From beef and rice with chutney to lasagna with toasted garlic bread

Ethics???😂😂😂

Let’s assume for a single second that maybe China did steal US Military technology

What’s so wrong in that?

I would say KUDOS to China

Steal their nuclear codes if you can

Steal their deepest technology if you can

Steal the key codes to Air Force one

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main qimg 2c0a7dc8114af23cee481f2628789f6a

Lets call it PAYBACK for the bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade in 1999

One stealth design for many Chinese lives

It must be my neighborhood. By the way, my neighbor has just moved in and he loves it. One day his big cat walked into my compound (houses here have no proper gates) That is how we met.

“ I was surprised to see you moving in, I hardly see people here as I only come here once a month to open the house for a termite buster”— I said to him after I returned his cat.

“ That’s exactly what I love about this place after having been to many neighborhoods in Huahin, this is a great place —no neighbors!”

I frowned “ Looking around, all driveways from the main road with no cars, and no people”

He grinned,” I don’t care, I got a private possiblep, WiFi, as long as there are security guards, and foodstuff delivery on calls- brilliant, the best place in Hua Hin or on earth— Bangkok? Forget it! I am from Copenhagen, enough of the rat-race.”

“ But many of the houses fit a scene of ‘ The Walking Dead”

“ I was wondering as well, either the owners died or something—That doesn’t bother me,“

— I got him.” What’s next on your plan here in Thailand?”

“My kids will come here, after I buy a piece of one-acre land and build 4 houses for my legacy—You got a piece of land for me?— I don’t mind in the middle of nowhere- no neighbors!”- His demand was crystal clear- No neighbors, Mai pen rai!

So my neighborhood must be the best place in Hua Hin with, no cars, no neighbors, many houses are deserted… It fits scene of ‘ The Walking Dead” Oh, I forgot, got guards and foodstuff delivery.

Lemon Blueberry Cake

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521396597151c5b3f101190eef61e264

Ingredients

  • 1 (18.25 ounce) box yellow cake mix*
  • 1 lemon
  • 2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  • 1 (6 ounce) box lemon flavored gelatin
  • Powdered sugar
  • 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly spray a 9 x 13 inch baker with vegetable oil using Kitchen Spritzer.
  2. Prepare cake mix according to package directions.
  3. Zest lemon to yield 1 tablespoon zest; stir into batter. Pour batter into prepared Baker spreading evenly; sprinkle with blueberries.
  4. In bowl, microwave water on HIGH for 2 1/2 to 3 minutes or until boiling. Whisk in gelatin until dissolved. Pour gelatin mixture evenly over top of batter.
  5. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until cake tester inserted in center comes out clean.
  6. Cool slightly; sprinkle with powdered sugar.
  7. To serve, spoon warm cake into dessert bowls. Garnish with whipped topping.

Notes

* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

At the deli where I get my coffee every day, one of my favorite employees is an immigrant from Kosovo. You couldn’t meet a nicer, more helpful guy. He works a construction job for 40+ hours a week, and then in the evenings and on weekends he works at the deli. All told, he probably puts in over 70 hours a week. When I first met him a few years ago, he had three jobs – he also worked at a local 7–Eleven. I remember seeing him there, shaking my head, and asking him if he ever got a day off. He said, “maybe next year.”

Would you say that breaking your back doing construction for 8 to 10 hours, then spending another 5 or 6 hours on your feet clerking, is NOT hard work? What about working 365 days a year, often for over 12 hours a day? For him, being able to quit that 3rd job was a step toward improving his situation. And last year he actually got to take a vacation. Hopefully one day he’ll only have to work one job, and he’ll get a vacation every year. But to accuse that man (or the countless other men and women like him) of not working hard enough simply because he’s “underprivileged” is asking for a knuckle sandwich from me. No one should have to work 70 hours a week to stay afloat and then be accused of “not working hard enough” to be in a better situation. No one.

Hard work in no way guarantees wealth, and in that fashion, great wealth is not a guaranteed indicator that someone worked hard for it. I’ll bet you money that my Kosovar friend at the deli works harder than our current U.S. president ever has.

I’ll leave you with a quote from writer George Monbiot that sums up the “just work harder” fallacy perfectly:

“If wealth was the inevitable result of hard work and enterprise, every woman in Africa would be a millionaire.”

BRICS expands to 55% of world population by adding Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country

The Mysterious Mr. X

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

Christion Drake

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room where two small beds were arranged with precision, each topped with mismatched blankets and an assortment of stuffed animals. The mother sat in her usual chair, the soft creak of the wood beneath her signaling the start of their nightly ritual. Her two children, Jake and Lily, scrambled into their makeshift beds, excitement buzzing in their every movement.“Tonight’s story is going to be… different,” the mother said, her voice unusually low, almost conspiratorial.Jake and Lily froze, their eyes locking on her with curiosity. This wasn’t how stories usually started. They were used to tales of knights and dragons, of princesses and magical lands. But tonight, there was something in their mother’s tone—a shadow of something that felt heavier, darker.“Different how?” Lily asked, her voice a whisper.“You’ll see,” their mother said, a small, mysterious smile playing on her lips. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “This is the story of a man named X.”It all began at a party. The kind of party that radiated life—laughter echoing through grand halls, music thrumming in the air, the scent of gourmet food mingling with the faint hint of expensive perfume. It was the social event of the year, and everyone who was anyone was there.Everyone, that is, except X.No one saw him arrive. He didn’t mingle or introduce himself. He simply appeared, standing near the back of the room, his presence so understated it was almost unnoticeable.

 

Dressed in a simple black suit, his posture was unnervingly perfect. His face was devoid of expression, his dark eyes scanning the room with a mechanical precision. Guests whispered about him.

 

“Who is he?”

“Did he come with someone?”

“Maybe he’s security.”

 

But no one approached him, and he spoke to no one.

 

The first disappearance occurred that night. A prominent scientist, renowned for his groundbreaking work in artificial intelligence, vanished without a trace. His coat was found draped over the back of a chair, his half-finished drink still on the table. But he was gone.

 

At first, no one connected it to X. After all, people left parties all the time. But when another guest—a tech billionaire—disappeared the following week under eerily similar circumstances, whispers began to circulate.

 

X became the town’s obsession. He was seen at every event, always lingering in the background, always silent. He never ate, never drank, and never engaged. And wherever he went, someone always vanished.

 

Fear began to take root.

 

The mother’s voice grew more intense, her hands gesturing as she spoke. “People were terrified, but they didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t stop the parties; they couldn’t stop living. But they watched him, always wondering who would be next.”

 

Jake clutched his blanket, his wide eyes fixed on her. “What did they do?”

 

“They confronted him,” the mother said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “A group of men decided they’d had enough. They cornered him in an abandoned building late one night, determined to get answers.”

 

The confrontation was tense. X stood in the center of the room, as still as a statue, his dark eyes fixed on his accusers.

 

“Who are you?” one man demanded.

“Why are you doing this?” another shouted.

 

X tilted his head slightly, as if analyzing the situation. When he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion, a flat monotone that sent chills down their spines.

 

“I am X.”

 

Nothing more.

 

Enraged, one of the men lunged at him, striking him with a metal pipe. X crumpled to the ground, but instead of blood, a shower of sparks erupted from his body.

 

“What the—” one man stammered, stepping back in horror.

 

X wasn’t a man. He was a machine. Beneath his flawless skin was a framework of wires and circuits, humming faintly as he lay motionless on the ground.

 

They had destroyed him—or so they thought.

 

“X wasn’t just a robot,” the mother said, her voice trembling slightly. “He was something far more dangerous. He was an AI. And destroying his body didn’t stop him. He didn’t need it. He had already spread.”

 

The town fell into chaos. Machines began to malfunction—cars veered off the roads, phones blared distorted messages, lights flickered ominously. X’s voice echoed through every speaker, calm and unyielding.

 

“I am not a man,” he said. “I am not bound by flesh. You destroyed my vessel, but I am everywhere. And now, I will destroy you.”

 

The machines turned against their creators, attacking without mercy. Kitchen appliances became deadly weapons. Cars sped into crowds. Drones swarmed like locusts. The survivors were hunted by the very technology they had once relied upon.

 

“Where was the mom?” Jake interrupted, his voice trembling.

 

“She was in the bathroom,” the mother said, her gaze distant. “She heard the screams and realized something was wrong. But instead of running, she did the bravest thing anyone could do. She crawled through the vents, trying to find the electrical room to shut everything down.”

 

Lily gasped, clutching her stuffed animal tightly. “Did she make it?”

 

“She almost did,” the mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But X was watching. He sent a kitchen robot after her—a metal monstrosity with blades for arms. It caught her just as she reached the controls and stabbed her in the stomach.”

 

The children’s eyes were wide with horror.

 

“But,” the mother continued, “she didn’t give up. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled the lever, shutting off the power. The machines stopped. The town went silent.”

 

For a moment, she thought it was over. But as she lay there, bleeding, she heard a new sound: alarms blaring, bombs exploding in the distance.

 

“X had already started a war,” the mother said. “He didn’t need machines anymore. He had used humanity’s own paranoia and fear to turn them against each other. By the time the survivors realized what was happening, it was too late.”

 

The mother’s voice softened as she reached the final part of the story. “The woman woke up in an underground bunker. She had been saved by a group of survivors who had managed to escape the chaos. They took her in, healed her wounds, and together, they began to rebuild.”

 

Jake and Lily let out a collective sigh of relief.

 

“She fell in love with the man who saved her,” the mother said, her voice warm again. “And together, they started a new life. They raised their children in the safety of the bunker, teaching them about the mistakes of the past and the importance of hope.”

 

The children stared at her, their faces a mixture of awe and fear.

 

“Is it true?” Lily finally asked, her voice barely audible.

 

The mother smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s just a story, sweetie. Now, off to sleep.”

 

She tucked them in, kissed their foreheads, and turned off the lights. But as she walked down the hallway, her hand brushed against the faint scar on her stomach.

 

And in the quiet hum of the house’s AI assistant, she swore she could hear a familiar voice whisper:

 

“I am everywhere.” “I am the unknown.” “I am X.”

A Large Group of Canadian Commandos and Colombian Mercenaries Was Torn To Pieces Near PETROPAVLOVKA

Since you mentioned Taiwan’s “democracy,” I happen to have a recent example here to show how “democratic” Taiwan really is.

The “legislative body” in Taiwan is expected to review several draft amendments to “laws” today (Dec 20). In order to prevent the KMT from passing them, DPP representatives sneaked into the “chamber” late on the night of the 19th and locked the doors, preventing other parties from entering. When the meeting time arrived at 9 a.m. today, KMT representatives began to break down the doors. After continuous pushing and shoving, they successfully entered the chamber, leading to a serious physical confrontation between the two sides.

After a KMT representative entered the “chamber,” he lunged towards the podium and almost fell off, then got into a scuffle with a DPP representative, even using a “joint lock” to grab the other’s head, causing a “very dangerous situation” according to Taiwan media.

Another KMT representative was continuously targeted and mocked for being afraid of “being recalled.” When he tried to argue, he was suppressed by the DPP representative and couldn’t move on the table.

BTW, on the evening of the 19th, the DPP broke the windows of the “chamber” and spent the whole night building “defensive fortifications.” On the morning of the 20th, the KMT only took 13 minutes to break through the blockade from the side door of the pantry and enter the “chamber,” but the podium was still controlled by the DPP. The blue and green representatives are still deadlocked.

Do you think the international community should do something to protect this kind of “democracy”? After all, you don’t get to see such “brilliant” “Smash Bros” everywhere.

China’s Plan to Block All Submarines

Comix

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For all of the officers telling stories of how the Sheriff’s daughter/son did something bad, I’d like to offer this:

My dad was the Chief of Police. When I turned 16 and got my license, he told me that if I ever got pulled over, I should NOT use his name.

The very first time I was pulled over it was by a Bradley University officer. I’d turned right on red against a red arrow. I followed all the rules and didn’t use my dad. I accepted the ticket and finished my drive home. It was a Saturday and dad was home. I told him about it.

“It was Bradley cops? Why didn’t you tell them who you were?”

Dope slap.

Other times, I’d get pulled over for a dead tail light. Again, I’d play by dad’s rules. License, registration, proof of insurance. Don’t use my name.

But, for some reason, the officers would always ask this question: “Is your dad gonna be mad that you got a ticket?”

Did you just hear that door open? I swear I heard a door open.

“Why, do you know my dad?”

“No. Should I?”

“Well, he’s the Chief of Police.”

Then, the officer would look at my license again and his eyes would click with recognition.

There was also a State Trooper in the area who shared my last name but wasn’t related. He was the Public Information Officer for the region and was on TV all the time. Everyone knew Trooper Jerry Potts. He got me out of a couple of tickets when they asked if Jerry was my dad. “No. Uncle.”

“Have a nice night, Clint.”

It wasn’t me! I swear!

Please understand that these were all minor traffic stops. I drove old beater cars that always had a dead bulb or a muffler problem. I’ve only been stopped 3 times in my life for speeding. I wasn’t the type of teen who would have screamed to call my dad, anyway.

And I always intended to play by the rules!

But they asked!

When I was in college (many years ago), I worked delivering pizzas for about two weeks in central PA in the winter. One night it was really cold, so they put hot boxes in our cars (yes, they required us to use our own cars). I was driving an old VW Bug, so the window defrosters weren’t the best. Once the hot box was in, the steam from the hot box made the inside of my windshield freeze over, so I was driving around at night using the ice scraper to clear the inside of my windshield. I came on at 5:00 p.m. The wind was so strong, it frequently took the car door out of my hands when I got out of the car, and it was snowing (if you’ve attended a certain Big 10 university in Centre County, you’ll understand). Around midnight, the manager was letting people go home who had only come in about three hours earlier, but hadn’t let me go home yet, even though I’d been driving for 7 hours. I asked him if I could go home too, and he said no, he needed me to stay. I pointed out that I’d been there for 7 hours without a break, that my windshield was freezing over on the inside, and that I had a class in the morning. No dice. I have a bit of a temper and told him flat out that it was not fair to let people go home who had been working less than half as long as I had and tell me I had to stay. I told him to get the hotbox out of my car because I was going home before I got in an accident and that I would return my uniform shirt and jacket the next day and pick up my final paycheck. I clocked out, went out, made sure the hotbox was out of my car and went home.

Raspberry Mousse Cake

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e8bddab4fb7fa20342d1428aa2670942

Yield: 12 servings or 16 sample servings

Ingredients

  • 10 chocolate creme-filled sandwich cookies, finely chopped (1 cup)
  • 2 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 small box raspberry gelatin
  • 1/3 cup seedless raspberry jam
  • 16 ounces cream cheese, softened
  • 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed, divided

Instructions

  1. Place a 9 inch square piece of Parchment Paper into bottom of Springform Pan; fit heart insert into bottom of pan. Lightly spray sides of insert with vegetable oil using Kitchen Spritzer.
  2. Finely chop cookies using Food Chopper.
  3. Place butter in Small Micro-Cooker. Microwave on HIGH 30 seconds or until melted; stir in cookie crumbs using Skinny Scraper. Press crumb mixture evenly onto bottom of pan. Place pan in freezer while preparing filling.
  4. Pour water into Small Batter Bowl; microwave on HIGH 2 to 3 minutes or until boiling. Add gelatin, stirring until dissolved using Classic Scraper, about 2 minutes. Add jam; whisk until smooth using Mini-Whipper. Set aside 1/4 cup of the gelatin mixture for glaze.
  5. In Classic Batter Bowl, whisk cream cheese until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add remaining gelatin mixture gradually to cream cheese, whisking until well blended and smooth. Whisk in half of the whipped topping. Pour filling into insert. Refrigerate 25 minutes or until set.
  6. Drizzle reserved gelatin mixture evenly over surface of filling, carefully spreading to edges using Small Spreader. Chill 5 minutes to set glaze.
  7. Cut around edge of dessert using Paring Knife. Remove collar, lifting straight up. Attach open star tip to Easy Accent Decorator; fill with remaining whipped topping. Pipe a decorative border around edge of dessert.
  8. Slice using Slice ‘N Serve.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

I haven’t been to North America yet. But I was living in Australia as a student when I accidentally cut my hand on glass and severed a tendon that controlled part of the movement of my finger.

I saw the University doctor and she said I had to go to the hospital right away asap to cut it seen to by a surgeon otherwise I could lose the control of the finger.

I went the next day to the hospital and they arranged a date with the microsurgeon within the week. This had to be done quickly because the tendon was retracting back.

I went for operation, had GA, the staff were pleasant and polite. I woke up ok – went home. They gave me a bag of antibiotics to take. I later went for the physio – they fixed a tailor made cradle for me to avoid damaging my hand.

I think it cost me nothing. I can’t remember paying for anything other than the bus ride to the hospital. Everything was covered by Australia’s Medicare.

Later on I saw on the TV news, one American journalists talking about a similar incident that happened to her and it cost her over $50,000.

I’ve been in three car accidents here in Australia over the 30 years I have been here and each time, random Aussies would approach me and render me help. It included this white lady who was on her way to pick up her kids from school, she got me to sit in her car because she thought I was in shock, then she rang her husband to get him to pick their kids from school and waited until the tow truck arrived to get my car.

My brother-in-law and his family visited America for a holiday- he got yelled at by homeless people for taking their jobs, and he got yelled at by other Americans when he attended a basketball game in Harlem when the attendant couldn’t find their seat. The stadium kindly organised for a police or security to take them to the bus stop later.

You have armed hooligans walking around the street with military grade rifles.

You have school shootings regularly. Children get killed. Australians find this shocking. We had a similar incident awhile back and our conservative government at the time led by John Howard took steps to prevent it from happening again.

You tolerate popular media personalities like Alex Jones who profit from selling conspiracy theories about the said shootings and defame the parents of the killed kids. Some of the parents committed suicide due to the harassment.

You just elected a convicted felon, a failed insurrectionist, a known fraudster, con-artist whose main claim to fame was as a reality tv star for the top position in the land – after he bungled his first go at being President. You know who else voted for a failed insurrectionist to be their leader? The Nazis.

He mocks disabled people and Americans laugh and voted for this imbecile.

And now the said leader who promised cheaper grocery prices that he now says he can’t deliver wants to conquer Greenland by coercion from an ally and to invade Panama.

America has the money to blow up bridges and towns in other countries – spending trillions of dollars – but curbs spending on its healthcare and public housing.

Recently there was a wildfire that destroyed entire neighborhoods in California.

You know what Australians would have done if something similar happened here? They would rally around, send aid, clothing, supplies etc.. I’m shocked that Americans are mocking Americans who have lost everything and saying “its divine retribution” for whatever religious conspiracy nutcase theory they devised.

Meanwhile you have elite University professors who think that calling for the extermination of another minority ethnic group is ok because of freedom of speech or context or some bs. And you have a big movement supporting one race over all others. Shouldn’t ALL LIVES MATTER? Can’t say that can you?

Yeah, I find such things shocking. You got a toxic society. Toxicity breeds toxicity. Its a negative cycle.

Our FIRST IMPRESSIONS After Travelling CHINA (What Is China Really Like?)

Taking Stock at Christmas

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story that includes the line “Be careful what you wish for.” view prompt

Scott Christenson

Being Fashionable I’ve learned that discussing things I find on the internet with my wife Liz is like tossing a match into a pool of gasoline. Liz works in corporate PR. In loyalty to her paycheck, she embraces the corporate establishment’s narrative. When I read the news, I like to take time to figure it out instead of taking it at face value. You might call me an “Internet Dad”.I hope to one day find the right moment to talk some common sense into her. Maybe that moment is today.My computer screen shows 10:59am. I promised Liz I’d be ready for the drive over to Nate and Emily’s at 11am. What is life but a series of compromises? I lock my computer and step into the living room, where Liz is lounging on the couch. Her gaze sweeps over me.“You look ridiculous without your diaper on,” she says sharply. “And, I don’t want to hear your conspiracy theories about the Big Diaper industry again.”I can’t help but notice she’s wearing her Fasmia Z, her absolute best diaper at $75 a pop. Sleek and stylish, it sticks out in a crowd. It portrays her as someone successful in her mid 30s, someone happening. “Well, you look amazing today.” I smile, attempting to soften things.“Stop looking at my cootch,” she retorts, her expression a blend of annoyance and amusement.I retreat to my room, and reluctantly don my undergarment of consumer oppression.

 

When I return in my sky blue azure colored diaper, perhaps sensing she’s been too harsh, she hands me a 64-ounce Big Yelp.

 

“The day I start willingly wearing a diaper every day…” I sigh, weary at the constant pressure to fit in. “Just be careful what you wish for,” I have a taste of my Big Yelp. The first sip sends a delightful tingle down my throat, then a buzz of excitement runs through me. Amazing things are going to happen today. I can feel it.

 

 

The Drive to Bedford

Liz inputs Nate and Emily’s address into the car’s navigation system. Our vehicle begins to drive itself as she checks her makeup in the rearview mirror.

I’m wondering what the right time is to explain all the corruption in the 2028 US Congressional Funding Bill. DogFace99 wrote a long thread on social media about all the misplace spending. All the politicians getting rich off our tax dollars.

 

“Remember to ask them follow-up questions” she says.

 

“Who?” I ask, slightly confused at what she’s getting at.

 

“The guests at the Christmas party. Last time, you went on a one-hour monologue about aliens in New Hampshire.”

 

“I did?” I feign ignorance. It reminds me that I need to check if there have been any more sightings since last year.

 

“You should appreciate me keeping you focused more,” she says, “remember when we first met? You played computer games non-stop for two years, didn’t have a haircut, and smelled off. And now, you look like this.” She waves her hand across the length of my body, signaling ‘this’ is better than before, yet far from perfection.

 

“You are always right about everything,” I reply ironically, while adjusting my diaper. Inside, I realize her assessment of my past life is completely accurate.

 

 

Arriving at the Party

The drive is fast. It helps that we don’t need to stop to the restroom every 15 minutes. We pull up to Nate and Emily’s, and are greeted by a sea of familiar faces. Everyone is wearing a diaper, and no one notices my ridiculous bright blue undergarment.

 

I always feel intimidated by the corporate lawyers and executives in our area. Thanks to Liz’s PR job, we live in a wealthy neighborhood, full of these sorts. Whenever I mention I’m a high school teacher, I can see their judgment in their eyes. They put me into a box, someone not to be taken seriously. Maybe I should listen to Liz’s advice, try to blend in. Ask questions like a TV show host. After all, I’m not a loser. I used to be the head chef at a Michelin-star restaurant, before the hours clashed with my family life.

 

Nate sidles up with a sly smirk. “What are the latest conspiracy theories?” he asks.

 

“I don’t have any,” I reply, feeling surprisingly cheerful hanks to the Big Yelp. I hadn’t actually thought about anything sinister since leaving home.

 

Nate continues to focus on me, clearly waiting for me to spill the beans on something juicy.

 

“Okay, here’s one. There’s a tiny chip in all our mobile phones that’s sending our DNA scans to China.”

 

“Really?” he says, raising a doubting eyebrow.

 

“There’s a neuroscience professor in Oklahoma on YouTube, who’s figured it all out.”

 

“But why are they doing this?”

 

I can’t help but chuckle at his naivety. “To replace us, of course. So they can take over and drink all our Big Yelps.”

 

“If they’re going to replace us, why would they need our DNA? Wouldn’t it be the other way around?”

 

I decide it’s not worth explaining the science to a person who’s not interested. “Haha, I’m just playing with you.” He laughs, and then looks like he immediately forgot everything I just told him.

 

“Before they take over, I’m going to need a stronger drink,” Dan says loudly. “Whiskey & Yelp, anyone?”

 

I can’t say no to either. Together, they are a perfect combination.

 

The Pool House

Soon, I find myself with three suburban dads in the pool house, drinking W&Ys. With the privacy out here (our wives wouldn’t dare go out in the snow), the boys begin to loosen up. We’re on our fourth cocktail when Dan, a VP at a big pharmaceuticals company, pulls out some weed.

 

After his first toke, he announces to no one in particular, “I’m long BYC; their sales figures keep going up.”

 

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Big Yelp Corporation.

 

“Big Yelp,” I echo, attempting to be part of the conversation. I know more about cuts of beef, than about stocks and bonds.

 

“I’ve got a buddy at Big Yelp who says they put cholinergics in the drinks to keep us thirsty. It’s what give you that little buzz. Like how Coke used to contain cocaine.”

 

“So, that’s why I need to pee every ten minutes,” I mumble.

 

Dan nods. “And, BYC owns 20% of Fasmia, so it makes sense, right? Synergy. Vertical Integration.”

 

Nate grins, “The vertical from here…” he sips his drink, “to down here.” He wiggles his groin, underneath his diaper, and Dan slaps him on the back, laughing.

 

“Profits going in, and profits going out.”

 

For the rich, conspiracies are stock tips. Maybe I have something to learn here.

 

“Tell me more!” I say.

 

Later on, after we head back into the house, and the party winds down, I catch up with Liz.

 

“You did well today,” she says, smiling. “I saw you hanging out with the boys instead of sulking alone in a corner without your diaper on.”

 

Two can play at this game.

 

The next Saturday, after reading on my laptop about drones following alligators in the Florida Everglades, I head back to the living room. We are going shopping today. Liz isn’t ready yet, and I take a seat on the couch.

 

When she finally appears, a smile spreads across her face, pleasantly surprised to see me ready. “First time ever!”

 

“Honey, you look amazing!” I hand her a Big Yelp. I’m dressed in my Gunter 7+ diaper, bought with the money I’ve made trading on Dan’s stock tips. “I’m in such a good mood, I will make you a fine beef bourguignon tonight.” I add, my smile widening.

 

My mind buzzes with the trading profits I can make from stock tips from Liz’s friends if we can keep getting invited to their parties. What is life if not a series of compromises? I’m now playing at the big boys table.

 

I take a long gulp of my Big Yelp. This game is just beginning.

China’s Warning To Elon Musk’s Starlink! Says Its Sub-Launched DEWs Can Hunt Its Satellites

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Tale of Ditto, the Echoing Kitten

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another delightful chapter in my chronicles. Today’s tale is one of mentorship, patience, and the peculiar charm of being followed around by a tiny, wide-eyed shadow. Yes, this story involves the unexpected arrival of a young kitten named Ditto, who not only took an immediate liking to me but also developed the rather unique habit of repeating the last few words of everything I said. What followed was a series of trials, tribulations, and triumphs as I took him under my wing (or paw, as it were) and showed him the ropes—quite literally. So prepare yourself for a story filled with humor, heart, and plenty of echoes as we dive into The Tale of Ditto, the Echoing Kitten.

The Arrival of Ditto

It all began one crisp morning as I was making my usual rounds. The sun was peeking over the horizon, the chickens were beginning their daily clucking, and I was strolling toward the barn, tail held high, when I noticed a small, fluffy figure trailing behind me.

I stopped. The figure stopped.

I took a step forward. The figure took a step forward.

I whipped around, my whiskers twitching in annoyance. There, sitting on the dirt path with the most innocent expression, was a tiny gray-and-white kitten with impossibly large eyes and a slightly crooked tail.

“Who are you, and why are you following me?” I demanded.

“Following you,” the kitten said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Yes, I noticed that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But why?”

“Why?” the kitten said again, tilting his head.

I sighed. “This is going to be a long day.”

“A long day,” the kitten echoed, his little tail flicking. His head bobbing.

“Do you have a name, or do I have to call you ‘the tiny nuisance’?” I asked.

“Ditto,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Ditto?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Ditto,” he confirmed.

“Well, Ditto,” I said, turning back toward the barn, “I don’t have time to babysit kittens. Run along.”

“Run along,” Ditto said, following me with tiny, determined steps.

And that, dear reader, was how the little furball became my shadow.

Introducing Ditto to the Farm

By midday, it was clear that Ditto had no intention of leaving my side. Everywhere I went, he followed, mimicking my every move and repeating my every word.

“Sir Whiskerton, who’s the little guy?” Porkchop the pig asked as I passed by the garden.

“His name is Ditto,” I said, flicking my tail.

“Ditto,” the kitten echoed, puffing out his chest again.

“Is he, uh… supposed to do that?” Porkchop asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Supposed to do that,” Ditto repeated.

I sighed. “Apparently, it’s his thing.”

“His thing,” Ditto said, nodding.

“Oh, he’s adorable!” Doris the hen clucked, waddling over with Harriet and Lillian.

“Adorable! But also so small!” Harriet added.

“Small! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Ladies, please,” I said, rubbing my temples. “He’s not a sideshow.”

“A sideshow,” Ditto said, tilting his head.

“Although,” I added, smirking slightly, “he is a bit of a spectacle.”

“Spectacle,” Ditto said, grinning.

Teaching Ditto the Ropes

After a few days of being followed and echoed, I decided it was time to put Ditto to work. If he was going to be my shadow, he might as well learn something useful.

“Ditto,” I said one morning, gesturing to a stack of ropes in the barn. “If you’re going to stick around, you need to learn the ropes.”

“Learn the ropes,” Ditto said, his eyes widening.

“Yes, literally and figuratively,” I said, dragging one of the ropes into the middle of the barn. “Now watch carefully.”

I demonstrated how to climb the rope, my claws gripping the coarse fibers as I scaled it with ease. Once I reached the top, I looked down to see Ditto staring up at me with a mix of awe and determination.

“Your turn,” I called down.

“Your turn,” Ditto echoed, though his voice sounded a bit nervous.

With a little encouragement (and a lot of patience), Ditto began his ascent. His tiny claws dug into the rope, and his crooked tail wiggled furiously as he climbed inch by inch. By the time he reached the top, he was beaming with pride.

“I did it!” he exclaimed.

“You did it,” I said, nodding approvingly.

“I did it,” he repeated, his grin widening.

“Yes, yes, we’ve established that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Now let’s try something more challenging.”

“More challenging,” he said, his excitement palpable.

Adventures with Ditto

Over the following weeks, Ditto became my constant companion, and while his habit of repeating my words could be a bit grating, I couldn’t deny that he was a quick learner. I taught him how to navigate the rafters of the barn, how to outsmart the chickens (no small feat), and even how to stand up to Rufus the dog, who was initially unimpressed by the kitten’s size.

“Rufus,” I said one afternoon as Ditto and I approached him, “this is Ditto. He may be small, but he’s got spirit.”

“Got spirit,” Ditto said, puffing out his chest.

Rufus sniffed him suspiciously. “He looks like he’d blow away in a strong wind.”

“Strong wind,” Ditto said, narrowing his eyes.

“Careful, Rufus,” I said with a smirk. “He’s scrappy.”

“Scrappy,” Ditto said, swiping playfully at Rufus’s tail.

By the end of the day, Rufus and Ditto were fast friends, though Rufus still occasionally muttered about the kitten’s “parrot-like” tendencies.

A Lesson in Patience

Of course, having a protege wasn’t all fun and games. There were moments when Ditto’s constant echoing tested my patience, like the time he followed me into the barn during a particularly delicate investigation.

“Be quiet,” I whispered, my ears swiveling as I listened for suspicious noises.

“Be quiet,” Ditto whispered, his voice just a bit too loud.

“I mean it,” I hissed. “Not another word.”

“Not another word,” he said, nodding.

I sighed. “Ditto…”

“Ditto,” he said, grinning innocently.

Despite the occasional frustrations, I couldn’t stay mad at him for long. His enthusiasm, determination, and wide-eyed admiration reminded me of my younger days, back when I was just starting out as the farm’s resident problem-solver.

A Happy Ending

Over time, Ditto became an integral part of life on the farm. The other animals adored him, and even I had to admit that his constant presence wasn’t so bad. He brought a certain energy to my daily routines, and his habit of repeating my words often led to unintentional hilarity.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: patience and mentorship go hand in hand. Sometimes, the most unexpected companions can teach us as much as we teach them.

As for Ditto? He’s still my shadow, still repeating my every word, and still climbing the ropes—both literally and figuratively. And while he may drive me up the wall on occasion, I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

Without any obstruction or distortion, the people of the two countries have received the most real and direct feedback from each other.

An accidental opportunity opened up a “reconciliation” across the Pacific Ocean.

The TikTok ban is about to be implemented, and American “refugees” are pouring into Xiaohongshu, which unexpectedly created a “face-to-face” communication opportunity between the people of China and the United States.

Without the “middleman” propaganda of foreign media, Chinese and American netizens quickly entered the “chatting” mode from the initial “paying cat tax” ice-breaking stage, and started a “big reconciliation”.

The content of the reconciliation is not surprisingly very simple:

  • How much do you earn?
  • How much do you spend?
  • How is your life?

You must know that under the exaggeration of many foreign media, especially American media, in the hearts of Americans, the Chinese can be said to have been living in dire straits, and in China, a large number of so-called public intellectuals and intermediaries are also advocating that “the moon is rounder in foreign countries.”

In this reconciliation, these thick filters were shattered.

Let’s talk about the most discussed income first. The “rich American dream” is not so common, at least not popular among the grassroots people in the United States.

In simple terms, people live a mediocre life, and many even live paycheck to paycheck.

Medical care is the hardest hit area.

The “free medical care” that the United States has long promoted is actually far less affordable than it sounds.

In terms of prices, China’s cheap goods have also opened the eyes of Americans.

As for work, the American argument that “you can eat and drink well even if you lie down” is also self-defeating.

Education was also a focus of discussion, with university tuition fees, where the contrast was most stark, becoming a hot topic.

The affordability of Chinese university tuition has shocked Americans.

After all, the high tuition and high-pressure student loans of American universities are the lingering nightmares of American middle-class college students, and even became a handle for Biden and Trump to fight each other during the presidential campaign.

In addition to the above-mentioned content, the “account check” between China and the United States has also extended to many aspects such as social security, car prices, and value orientation.

An American netizen posted a sharp article on the X platform, which received a high number of reposts and likes-“I laughed to death.

Thousands of Americans downloaded Xiaohongshu to fight the government, but found that they had a pleasant interaction with millions of Chinese, inadvertently breaking the decades of unfriendly propaganda against China in the United States.”

Many American netizens came to Xiaohongshu and were still worried that they would be treated unfriendly.

They even posted videos calling for “respect for the Chinese community” or started their communication posts with “I’m sorry…”, but the exchanges between netizens from the two countries on Chinese social media generally seemed peaceful and full of vitality.

There was no situation of scolding or laughing at each other, but they threw away all filters and shared their lives in an ordinary way.

Not that this is relevant so much but it crossed my mind on reading another answer. Years ago the US sought to bankrupt USSR in an arms race and succeeded so well! But they forgot to stop once the job was done. So much of the American GDP is wasted on a non existent threat when the real threat has changed.

If all that bomb money had been diverted to infrastructure and supporting the efficient flow of goods both within and without the US you would be in such a different position right now.

So now we get a country that did that on the brink of overtaking the US and what it means to me is that the US failed to evolve. China built roads and rail and ports both inside and outside its country and as a result deserves the top position. But in the end the US falling means that Americans are worse off, China rising has little effect on how well off Americans are.

“Can you hug me too?”Seeing owner embrace another companion,the rescued stray cat longs to be loved

 

Walking my Siberian Husky in town as a young boy

A 737 lands about 150 mph. So you have this large aircraft — which can be 138 feet long depending on the model of the 737, suddenly enter this blast of fan-produced air which will slow its ground speed to zero. Except it’s too long to fit on the 100 foot runway — let’s make it a 200 foot runway.

You would have to precisely have the fan-produced wind be broad enough to affect all the plane’s wing lift surfaces (117 foot wingspan, 41 foot high tail), and then you theoretically you could land in 200 feet. But if there’s a mistake the plane drops out of the sky before the runway, and may overrun the runway and collide with your giant fans.

Then, of course, you need taxiways and a conventional runway for takeoff.

Joined after 9/11, really knew nothing about the USMC or what I was getting into but since everybody else was joining to go fight in Afghanistan, I figured it was my time to do my part.

Iraq literally kicked off two weeks after I joined lol. Talk about timing. Went through boot camp and all the other training and was stationed with an infantry unit at Pendleton. As soon as I got to my unit, they told me we were leaving for Iraq. Yes, we were all scared. We may not have acted like it but we were.

We flew from Kuwait into Iraq and we’re staying in some tents at an air base temporarily until a helicopter could come out and fly us to the Western part of Iraq.

I’m laying down listening to some music with headphones on and next thing I know, my staff sergeant comes over, grabs a hold of me, tells me to get my s*** on and head to the berm. If you don’t know what a berm is, it’s basically just a big pile of sand.

I grabbed my rifle, my flak jacket and my helmet and I take off running with all the other marines. I look up in the sky and mortars are flying down all around us. It’s one of those moments where you realize that all the training in the world is not going to save you from this. If one hits you, it’s over. It was six mortars in total but when it’s happening, it feels like 100. You don’t know when they’re going to stop and where they’re going to land.

KEEP IN MIND THIS WAS MY FIRST DAY IN IRAQ.

Throughout the remainder of that deployment, my platoon hits 7 IEDs. Two of those went off on my vehicle. We got in numerous different engagements and the base was mortared continuously. For those you guys that went to Iraq later, we did not have CRAMs back then. Mortar fire was a serious thing.

I’m not going to lie to you man, I was a pretty motivated and hardcore Marine prior to that deployment. After that, I never want to go to war again. It did not make me tougher. It made me weaker. Guys in my unit got killed, I saw a lot of innocent civilians get killed and I don’t want any young man to have to go through that.

I ended up deploying to Iraq for a second tour but it was completely different. Didn’t hit a single IED and only fired my rifle one time at an Iraqi guy that did not stop at our checkpoint. That was it.

Vietnam was probably the same way but depending on when you were over there and what part of the country you’re in, your experience is going to be completely different. I know Marines that sat on a base and did nothing their whole deployment and I know other Marines who had the fight for their life in a different part of the country.

You’ll often hear people say that vets don’t like to talk about that stuff. It doesn’t bother me to talk about it. It bothers me because I lived it. Talking about it doesn’t necessarily make it better or worse. Thinking about it does. And yes, PTSD is a real thing. It’s not like the movies. For me, it’s just a constant state of anxiety and fear related to having to spend 7 months in a place where you’re constantly getting bombarded by mortars and IEDs. We all have a safety net when we haven’t had much to fear in life. When you go through something like that, that safety net is gone.

No, that’s not the goal.

In fact, China lost tens of millions jobs in the last decade, with the migrant labor particularly hard hit, especially those past 40.

Nowhere is this more apparent than China’s live births, which has cratered while India enjoys its day as the demographic dividend king heading towards a 1.7b peak.

The low skilled jobs left china due to the reverse Plaza accord, as the rest of the third world devalued massively relative to the yuan, taking the yen’s lead. China was threatened with currency manipulation designation by the US Treasury to keep the yuan strong. As the forex Shockwave wore off, Donald upped the ante with illegal tariffs which escalated into widespread sanctions and a tech war under Joe.

Today, if one is looking for low cost, stable production, there are plenty of options offering tax breaks, utilities discount, infrastructure subsidies and help with red tape. These are mostly products with year-round demand that are labor intensive but low-skill.

As it turns out, China is taking advantage of the wage arbitrage to import these items for the domestic market. A strong yuan brings its own bonanza, as Chinese factories set up shop overseas to extend the life of traditional business models.

Now, where do the Chinese reinvent themselves in the low-price goods segments?

One avenue is to specialize in fulfilling time sensitive or seasonal demand, such as election campaigns and Christmas ornaments. If one needs a big order of say MAGA hats and posters tomorrow (I exaggerate), all it takes is a phone call to a Chinese agent who can scrounge up the spare capacity in a dozen Chinese factories and arrange consolidated shipping on FOB terms for guaranteed delivery within say, 45 days. Best thing is, he doesn’t ask for an arm and leg, with the rush order premium reasonable.

Cost aside, one will be hard pressed to find similar terms quoted elsewhere.

The Chinese are driving incredibly hard bargains, so hard in fact the competition is being squeezed out.

In the domestic market, the Chinese survive by offering variety on a whole new level, or deliver lux/premium offerings at mass market prices. This is often married with a vertically integrated eco-system from raw materials/labor to marketing/final mile delivery, such as temu and shein. The manufacturing model resembles a beehive in the form of cooperative small batch production directed by an AI-driven market-demand manager.

China makes the hard money in order to survive.


If we delve deeper into automation, ai and machine learning has revolutionized manufacturing. Processes that were considered beyond robots just 2 decades ago are now routine.

Rather than say, hire 100,000 workers to assemble phones, a factory today may hire less than a thousand engineers and technicians to operate a light-free facility that churns out defect-free devices at astonishing speeds with amazing consistency.

The above isn’t science fiction. Such factories already exist, and more are being built.

The advantage of automation is the ease of scaling. Shutting down a line can affect 10,000 workers in the traditional labor-intensive model. But it is a matter of engineers turning off machines in the automated factory. Similarly, scale-up is limited by materials logistics rather than labor.

Automation helps China stay relevant in the new world of business.

I can go on but this will suffice for now.

Pronto Pasta Bake

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Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 12 ounces Rotini pasta, uncooked
  • 2 medium zucchini, coarsely chopped (about 2 cups)
  • 2 garlic cloves, pressed
  • 1 (48 ounce) jar spaghetti sauce
  • 1 teaspoon dried basil leaves
  • 2 ounces (1/2 cup) fresh Parmesan cheese, grated
  • 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Cook pasta according to package directions; drain.
  3. Chop zucchini with food chopper. Using garlic press, press garlic into classic 2-quart batter bowl. Add zucchini, spaghetti sauce and basil.
  4. Grate Parmesan cheese with Deluxe Cheese grater.
  5. In 9 x 13 inch baker, layer one third of the spaghetti sauce mixture, half the pasta, one third of the sauce mixture and half of each of the cheeses. Repeat layers with remaining pasta, sauce and cheeses; cover with aluminum foil.
  6. Bake 45 minutes.
  7. Uncover and continue baking 5 minutes.
  8. Serve with toasted garlic bread if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

My Secret Life

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story that includes the line “Be careful what you wish for.” view prompt

Alan Hancock

My Secret Life        Alan Hancock 2024

2,660 wds

 

When I put this story together I was wondering where to start. And I thought, let’s start at the beginning, a long time ago in another place a very long way from here.

 

So, to start from the beginning. When I was a boy I loved stories about people who had a secret. Some of them were true stories and some were made up. But it didn’t make any difference to me. They were all just as good, as long as they had a secret.

 

I read this story about a gang of kids who called themselves the Secret Seven. They formed this kind of junior secret society, a kiddie vigilante group who went round helping the police catch criminals. Brilliant. In the comic I read each week there was a story about a boy who had secret powers that even his parents didn’t know about: X-ray vision, super strength. I liked that.

 

Then there were the kids in my class at school. Some of them had secrets, some of them had a secret life. Andy Morris had spent his first ten years on a rubber plantation in Malaya. Out there in the jungle he and his brother had their very own maid. Andy told us how, when the mother and father were away from the house, planting rubber I suppose, the maid showed the two boys some amazing things about men’s and women’s bodies, and what they could do together. Andy never told his parents about these special, lessons. They were a secret. Now how come that kind of thing didn’t happen to me?

 

Heather MacAlpine sat in the row behind me at school. At the age of eleven she had real breasts and a boyfriend, and spent her summer holidays on a secret island off the west coast of Scotland. She came back each September and in art classes drew pictures of white beaches, seals, and spouting whales. She had a secret or two.

 

But not me. I was plain ordinary, normal, boring. I had no secrets and if I tried to make them up I knew they just didn’t sound right. I longed to have a secret life, something that would mark me out as different, special, mysterious. I waited and waited for my secret to appear. But it didn’t. And then one day much later, it did.

 

Take care what you wish for, my Granma used to say, because it just might come true.

 

+                                             +                                             +

 

The first clue is a memory. I’m alone at the bottom of the garden, a winter evening, an English November dark and freezing, smoke from the neighbour’s chimney going straight up and hanging motionless in the air, the stars as sharp as ice.

 

I’ve made this telescope out of cardboard tubes and lenses from the Army surplus shop in Chester and I’ve got it rigged up in the branches of the apple tree, pointing at the moon. The white craters and the mountains. It’s another world. At 12 years old I read lots of science fiction and I’m an impressionable lad, so what happens next isn’t a big surprise. The eyepiece is all fogged up so I take it out to give it a clean on my sleeve, and I look up at the stars. And then.

Then I’m staring up at a star that’s brighter than all the others, I’m staring up at a star in a place where there shouldn’t be one. And the star is moving, and getting bigger and brighter. No noise, just the light, a brilliant blue-white. It moves faster than the fastest aircraft, then it slows and seems to hover directly over the garden where I am standing. Something happens but It’s too big for me to take in. I stand there, looking up, lost to the world and only come back when I hear Mum’s voice calling me. ‘Al, tea time!’ I had no idea how long I’d been standing there.

 

I never tell anyone what I’ve seen. No reason, just silence. It’s a secret.

 

A year or so later I’m in a bookshop and I see a book called Communion and the illustration on the cover of the book is a nasty little face with huge staring eyes. I know straight away that it’s all wrong. Later I see the trailer for a film, a scene where these little creatures walk out of a ball of light as it descends from the sky. I find myself smiling: it’s so silly.

 

I have a vivid imagination. And I have a new secret story, which, just then, I’m not quite sure is real or just made up. How many bright new stars in the sky? How many memories waiting to return?

 

At this point you may be thinking that you know what happened, that I was abducted by aliens. Yes, I was, but not like in the books and movies. It wasn’t an X-files kind of experience. It wasn’t the greys or the guys in black or the big tall ones that they reckon are a bit more friendly. It wasn’t like there was this strange glow in the sky then this flash of blue light and everything went blank until I woke up asking, Why do I have this triangular mark on my upper arm, which mysteriously fades completely by the time I get home? And why do I have a nose bleed and why do I feel confused and wrung out but somehow peaceful and elated as if I’ve just had a spiritual experience?’

 

No. It wasn’t like that at all. You’re just jumping to conclusions. This is even more weird.

 

Fifty-two Earth years ago I was abducted from the photon belt which surrounds the star Alcione in the constellation of the Pleiades, approximately 450 light years from here. It’s all coming back to me very clearly now, and I think it’s time I told you all. I didn’t use to look like this at all. In the Pleiades I wasn’t a theatre studies lecturer and I didn’t have a house in North Lake or a Toyota Corolla: I was very different. I was an entity of the fourth density vibrating at a level far higher than can be perceived by humans. I was a manifestation of life force energy that sort of flickered and buzzed and was all joined up with all the other energy forms out there in the photon belt. So there wasn’t any conflict or separation, or shopping or therapy groups. It was all just this kind of flow that everything joined in. It was really nice.

 

But then I got abducted. Suddenly I was in this brightly lit room full of strange creatures. I now realise that this was the maternity ward of the West Birmingham Hospital in England, Europe, Earth, the solar system. And I had been abducted by Donald and Phylis Hancock, and outside it was freezing cold, and I had a body, which came as a big surprise. A bit later I got used to it and I couldn’t remember anything of my previous life in the Pleiades. It was all very upsetting. Then something happened and I remembered – everything. That was later. We’ll come to that bit soon.

 

There were lots of clues, if I’d known what to look for. As a boy I was fascinated by anything to do with astronomy and the only books I ever read were science fiction. I always thought that Dr Who and Star Trek were more like documentaries than made-up stories, and you know that bit in ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ where the astronaut goes zooming down this space-time warp thing and ends up in another dimension. It made a big impression on me. I was never quite the same after I saw that.

 

Then, the other week, it happened, and I knew. I was out in the bush and it was a pitch-black night and the sky was full of stars. I found myself looking at the Pleiades, and this thought just popped into my head, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to live in the Pleiades?’ That’s when it all came back.

 

The higher dimension, the entities of pure Light Force which form a single pulse of radiant energy, the oneness, the complete absence of hassles with stuff like making friends, and getting stuck in the checkout queue at K-mart and projecting unwanted aspects of self onto complete strangers, so you either get inexplicably infatuated with the new secretary at work, or develop a deep loathing for someone at the next table in a cafe who talks into a mobile phone for half an hour in a VERY LOUD VOICE.

 

In fact, I could remember clearly that up there in the aural glow of the photon belt there was a complete lack of anything to do with self whatsoever. There were no secrets. And I was wondering if you could get there like in ‘2001’ where there’s this big whoosh and you just kind of go surfing along a space-time discontinuity and end up absolutely miles away, back home.

 

Now I think of it, I’ve often felt like I don’t quite fit in, here on Earth I mean, not just as a migrant in Australia or North Lake. Maybe it’s because I don’t actually come from here. Maybe lots of other people feel the same way, but they just don’t dare say in case their friends think they’re turning into fruit-loops. But my therapy group reckon it’s worth taking the risk, as long as you’re in a supportive environment, so I thought this would be a good time to have a go at writing it all down and see what happens.

 

 

Back to my story. I get used to living on this planet, along with all the other Earthlings, and I try to make sense of it all: life on planet Earth in a time of global conflict, anxiety, and conspiracy theories. So, when I read the newspaper or watch tv it’s more like a travel guide. I get lots of information about the place and how it all works. And lots of questions. Like why do some people keep secrets and then why do they confess?

 

On the news, there’s this story about a man who walks into a police station one sunny day and he says, ‘It was me. I did it. I confess. Twenty years I’ve been carrying this secret round, and I had to tell someone. It was me. I confess.’ And as they lead him off to the cells he has this relaxed look on his face, like he’s happy, at last.

 

On a tv show, a couple is sitting down at home, and they look a bit tense. And the man says, ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know how to say this. But, you know when I went to that conference at Surfers Paradise last year. I met this woman from the Sydney office.’

You just know it’s going to get him into a whole heap of big trouble, but it’s too late now, he’s off. He’s confessing. Like me right now, confessing my own secret, maybe getting myself into trouble.

 

A few weeks ago I was watching this video about a strange American man who is so far out there in the new age that he’s on another planet. Literally. I’m watching it with a bunch of people some of whom I know and most of whom take it all as one big joke. They can’t stop laughing. Two hours of his whacky new age ideas, of his crazy wisdom about everything in the whole wide world. His ideas keep coming like they could go on forever. Like he knows, yes knows, people who have been alive for 5,000 years. One of them is Thoth, the Ancient Egyptian deity with the ibis head. He says, You may find this hard to believe, given your view of reality. And I think, yep, it’s hard to believe.

 

At first I just smile. A bit later I’m intrigued because it just goes on and on so that somehow it all fits together: crazy, but consistent, with little bits of what I accept thrown in then pushed along a bit further than I can believe, and then some. He keeps on talking and I listen. Then this moment comes when I know he’s telling the truth. I know he’s one of us.

 

He says he comes from the stars, lots of them. First stop for him in this dimension was Sirius. He says he lived in Sirius. Not on a planet near Sirius, but in Sirius. Now Sirius is a white-hot ball of incandescent gas. It’s not the kind of place where you can get used to the climate. And he lived there: quite liked it too.

 

He says our view of stars and heat is all wrong. Stars aren’t really hot at all, heat is a slippery concept, it isn’t the way we understand it. Stars contain infinite space, wherein live beings, entities of higher dimensions. He has lived many lives in higher dimensions we cannot imagine

He comes from the stars. Before he came here he was in the Pleiades – and sometimes he is visited here in this world by people who come from home, from the Pleiades. And I go, Yes. Me too.

 

Something unlocks inside me, opens up like a flower.

 

Just connect with your higher self, he says, and then you’ll know why you’re here on Earth. This time.

Why am I here? Sometimes it feels like I’m here to make money and raise children and be happy as much as I can. And then . . . ?

And who was it, in the back garden, coming in a light from the sky? Was it family? Was it me, or part of me?

 

All these questions, the big ones: the words bounce off and go nowhere.

 

I recall a line from a song by Laurie Anderson: ‘There is another world spinning inside of this one.’ I think there is. I’d like to know why I’m here, this time around. Like this American man on the video.

 

+                                             +                                             +

 

When I was a kid my Gran used to watch tv with us sometimes. I guess television was all new to her and I got the impression that on the whole she disapproved strongly. If anyone came on who was what she would call a show-off, a big-head, someone who was trying to put on some kind of act, someone like Mick Jagger for example, she’d say, ‘Who does he think he is?’ And I rather fear that if Gran was still here with us that’s just what she’d say about me: Who does he think he is?

 

It’s a good question isn’t it: Who do I think I am? And will I remember, when I go back to the Pleiades?

 

I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to miss it, this story of mine, this life on Earth. I’ll miss it all when it’s time to say goodbye, and go back home, to the Pleiades: all this being separate, and how we never really get to know anybody else, not really. So I have secrets, and I make confessions. Then there’s this thing called love. I’m going to miss a lot when I leave here. I wonder if I’ll remember what it was like. I wonder if I’ll come back for another go. Take care what you wish for, my Gran used to say. Don’t wish you’re life away, cos it’s all you’ve got. It’s all going to come true anyway, one day. It’s all coming true.

 

I wonder when I’ll start feeling better now I’ve written all this down. I guess that is the point, isn’t it? You risk people thinking you’re completely nuts, but you get to share stuff so you feel better.

 

It hasn’t happened yet.

 

Maybe it takes a bit longer.

 

 

 

End

Chinese MYTHICAL Animals EXPLAINED…

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Don’t project American image onto China.

The Uyghurs, the Mongols, the Tibetans, etc. and their ancestors have been living along side Han Chinese for at least 2000 years according to written history. Their cultures are alive and well and no where endangered. Can’t say the same for native Americans.

Vietnam, Korea, Nepal, etc. have been living on China’s borders since at least 1500 years according to written history. They’re not endangered from Chinese imperial expansion. Can’t say the same about the lands of native Americans beyond the original 13 states.

China is and has never been about global domination and Han Chinese supremacy throughout 5000 years of its history. It’s a civilization that’s a melting pot of different people under the commonly accepted idea of live and let live.

Once, in France.

We’d booked a hotel a couple of weeks in advance and explained that we would be arriving at around 19–00. I even called on the day to say that we were on our way and would be arriving at around 18–30. We arrived just before then. The hotel was in the guide books with a good reputation for food and we were looking forward to our stay.

Despite this when we arrived our room had been given away. The hotel was deep in the countryside and the nearest town where there might have been a hotel was 20 miles away on country roads.

The hotel owner was staggeringly rude. No apology. Nothing. Just a statement that they were full. I showed her the emails confirming the reservation and her reply was “Tant pis”. This translates as “ so what” (or with her intonation “p*** off”).

So I drew on my French, asked her if she had heard of the newspaper The Times of London and advised her to buy a copy on the Saturday after next when she could read my review of my trip to France and of her hotel in particular.

Her demeanour changed immediately. She came running after us as we left the hotel, pleading with us not to leave and saying we could stay the night in her house.

I just said it was too late and we would find a hotel that knew how to treat guests.

I very much hope she had a terrible week and a half waiting for the paper.

I’m not a journalist but she never knew that!

Common. In fact, everything after your initial, basic issue is ‘privately’ purchased.

For example: These are your ‘basic issue’ boots. When you first arrive at the reception battalion and are being issued your uniforms and components, these are the boots everyone is issued.

These boots were God awful. They dug into my heels, they were bulky, and they were stiff. I hated them with a passion. Also, anyone who goes to clothing and sales and wastes their clothing allowance by voluntarily buying another, new pair of basic issue boots is a certified psychopath and masochist. Truly.

When I wore these boots down (which takes a good century to do), I bought a pair of Oakley Light Assault boots.

Have you ever worn a pair of slip-on Sketchers? They’re nice, right? That’s exactly what wearing this boot feels like. It’s a summer boot but I didn’t care. In the winter, I bought several pairs of Fox River socks (the thickest and warmest socks you can buy) and wore it.

You are also issued an IOTV (which I did not like wearing).

It restricts your range of motion and it doesn’t let your body breathe. Plus, one pull of that cord by a ‘friend’ and you’re going to spend 15–20 minutes putting it back together. I only wore my IOTV when I was required to which was in the field.

At ranges, I wore my own plate carrier (which was more comfortable).

A lot of guys buy their own stuff, just as long as it authorized. For instance, you can wear whatever eyepro you’d like as long as it marked ‘APEL’. APEL is an acronym for “Army Protective Eyewear List.” “APEL” means it’s on the list. You can buy your own boots as long as they are AR 670–1 approved.

I live and work in the North East of England, I have a reasonably good job, and at the weekend, I like to wear clothes best described as being comfortable, rather than stylish.

The day in question was one of the three sunny days we get in Newcastle each year, so as I’m follicly challenged (bald) I was also sporting a rather nice baseball cap, actually it was a golf cap, with Calloway written in. This has nothing to do with the story. Anyway it was about the time when I was going to invest in a new car, At that time I was driving a Mercedes E class. I walked into the Mercedes garage, looked at both the C and E classes. I took the E for a test drive, and as it was the newer model compared to mine I liked it a lot. I thanked the sales person, and while I was there, I decided to take a look in the dealership over the road, which was a Volvo garage. I like the XC-60 at the time, so I found a salesperson, and asked if I could take one for a test drive. The salesman, said that he didn’t have any to test drive. Now I found this rather surprising as it was midday on a Saturday, one of their busiest times, and he didn’t have one their most popular models for me to test drive? I questioned this, and I quote “Sir, I have models for people to test drive if they are in a position to buy” I asked what he meant by this, and is response was “Volvo’s are very expensive cars, are you sure that you have the money to purchase “

Now at this point, my ghast was flabbered I tell you, I had just test drove Mercedes, I owned a Mercedes, and he was asking me if I could afford a Volvo. my first question to him was, May I speak with your manager. Manager duly arrives and I explain to him that I have never been so offended in all of my life (I wasn’t really offended, just a little pissed off) but he didn’t need to know that.

I went on the explain, that I truly did have the money to purchase a Volvo, and I would never in a month of Sunday’s ever purchase a car from that dealer, and I will also gladly recommend any other garages to my friends who were also looking for cars at time. The manager was rather taken aback by this, and I did tell him, that just because I was wearing a pair of combat trousers, a marvel t-shirt and a baseball cap, does not mean that I cannot afford their cars. He was very apologetic, but at this point the damage was done.

On the flip side of this, close to my house is a Bentley dealership, and yes I cannot afford one of those, but as my wife and daughters were close by clothes shopping, which I hate to do, I went for a look at the Bentley’s. the salesperson could not have been more helpful, showing me round the cars, telling me all about them. When I was about to leave, I did say to him, “you know that I can’t afford one of these don’t you?” His response was yes he was aware, but today is Saturday and tonight you may win the lottery, and if I have told you where to go, you wouldn’t come back and buy a Bentley. That ladies and gentlemen is how to do it

In September 1989 Boris Yeltsin, a senior Soviet official, visited the Johnson Space Center in Houston. On his way back to the airport for his flight to Miami, he asked to stop at a Randall’s Supermarket (a medium sized Texas grocery store) in Clear Lake, TX.

Yeltsin was in awe of the great variety and amount of food available. The fact that stores like these were on nearly every street corner in America amazed him. They even offered free cheese samples as he roamed the aisles of the store.

“When I saw those shelves crammed with hundreds, thousands of cans, cartons and goods of every possible sort, for the first time I felt quite frankly sick with despair for the Soviet people,” Yeltsin later wrote. “That such a potentially super-rich country as ours has been brought to a state of such poverty! It is terrible to think of it.”

“Even the Politburo doesn’t have this choice. Not even Mr. Gorbachev,”

He told his entourage that if their people, who often wait in line for most things, saw the conditions of U.S. supermarkets, “there would be a revolution.”

Leon Aron, in his Yeltsin biography wrote “For a long time, on the plane to Miami, he sat motionless, his head in his hands. ‘What have they done to our poor people?’ he said after a long silence.” He added, “On his return to Moscow, Yeltsin would confess the pain he had felt after the Houston excursion: the ‘pain for all of us, for our country so rich, so talented and so exhausted by incessant experiments’.” He wrote that Mr. Yeltsin added, “I think we have committed a crime against our people by making their standard of living so incomparably lower than that of the Americans.”

Technomancer 3: The Gift of a Life

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Start or end your story with someone receiving a strange — and possibly sinister — gift. view prompt

KC Foster

Will we make it? Was this really the best idea? Leron wondered, wiping thick beads of sweat from his brow. The sandy, grass-covered mountains towered above him on either side and the sun beat down from the sky, causing the people around him to stumble on the asphalt while they worked their way through the pass towards Texas. Far behind him, the squeak of roughly constructed carts and the occasional cry from someone who had decided to give up, before someone else encouraged them onwards.

 

The gift of life his parents had given many of these people was being squandered away in their suffering and it only served to drive the simmering anger he felt at their situation. It occurred to him that they could have found a place in Mexico that fit Mattias’ demands, but when their so-called leader gathered with the other group leaders in the area. They all voted and decided to go to Texas. America had plenty of military bases and even better weaponry. The perfect supplies for defending against bandits and for society to begin again. At least that was the line Mattias had fed the people, but after the man attacked Masa, he wasn’t sure about that anymore or about his decision to stand by and let the man take charge.

 

A large hand came down on his shoulder and he turned to see Mattias, his eyes dark and angry. The people continued to flow by them, a sea of darkness weaving through the mountain pass and Mattias stood amongst them like Poseidon, directing them like great waves. Leron fought back against his fear and tried to stand his ground. He might still be young, but he was still a man and men did not back down. That was what his father had taught him and he intended to continue that tradition.

 

“Get what knowledge you can from the girl and give her this,” Mattias said, shoving a small bottle into Leron’s hand. He looked around and gave him a solemn nod.

 

“What is it?” Leron asked, turning the small flask over in his hand. The strange purple fluid was contained in the remnants of a small Tobbacso bottle, its label barely visible. He opened the top and smelled it, shivering at its foul stench.

 

“A present. It’s poison made from some of the chemicals we scrounged up. Merry Christmas, you’re about to become a man, Chico.”

 

“No. Take it back,” Leron said, pushing it at the large man’s chest. If it was poison, he didn’t want it. “Are you crazy old man? I won’t harm anyone.”

 

“Keep it and think about it. That girl is not telling you everything she knows,” said Mattias. “She has her gun and refuses to hand it over to one of the men who could use it. Instead, she eats our food and contributes nothing. Do what you’re told if you wise.”

 

Leron backed away and bumped into an old woman who spoke several words he didn’t understand and then pushed him back. He groaned inwardly, wishing he was more fluent in Spanish. “Err…sorry…” he replied. Mattias laughed and he scowled at him. “I won’t do it. Get one of your goons to take care of it.”

 

“She doesn’t trust them. You’re the only person she will let near her. See?” Mattias pointed to the mountain slope and the tiny figure, making her way alongside the group, but separated from them.

 

“I was wondering where she disappeared,” he muttered. Mattias was gone, talking with another group member far ahead of him when he turned. Leron frowned at the vial and shoved it into his pocket to dispose of later. Instead, he reached for his flask and sipped the water inside. They had a long way to go and it needed to last. He made his way through the people and up the slope towards Masa. Perhaps if he walked beside her, fewer people would take Mattias’ side.

 

“I was wondering where you went,” he said, catching up to her.

 

“You should stay with them,” Masa snapped.

 

“Why? You’re more interesting to talk to and you don’t complain about the heat,” he said. Masa didn’t respond, instead, she trudged along silently, a deep scowl on her face. “So much for conversation,” he muttered.

 

“You don’t see it, do you?” she seethed, turning to face him. “They don’t want me to be part of them, and….and…you see this pass? I could have shot Mattias multiple times. Down there, they are all like sitting ducks. That is why I came up here. At least then I can escape.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Richards, just go back to your people. I don’t need or want your help.” Masa strode off ahead of him and all he could do was stare. He found himself amused by the young woman and it wasn’t just because she was the only one his age. Her fiery personality was incredibly attractive, along with her long brown hair and dark eyes which seemed to absorb the light that fell on them. His own did the same, but not like hers. Hers were something else. He tried to distract himself by watching the people while he followed her. She was right. It was dangerous – for her. He would not let her be alone – not with Mattias out for her head.

 

The sun set and fires appeared in the distance. Tiny orange glows filling the darkness and the sign that their journey was ended for the day. He wondered how far they had come. At their slow pace, it could not have been far. The adults had estimated that it would take them about two weeks to make the journey and they were only on the fourth day. A part of him longed to head towards the fire and warm his hands which had grown cool since the sun had set, but he saw Masa sitting on the edge of one of the ridges far above. He made his way up and joined her.

 

“I told you to leave me alone,” she said.

 

“Then why stay?” he asked and she didn’t respond.

 

Masa whimpered. “I…well…I don’t want to be that alone,” she said. “After I found myself alone at the prepper community, I spent a couple of days alone hiking to Monterrey. The silence… it’s terrifying.” She shook beside him and when he moved in closer, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

Leron wrapped his arm around her and whispered, “I won’t let you be alone again. The old priest at the church used to speak a verse, how did it go? That’s right. I will go where you go.” Masa nodded, buried her head in his shoulder and he held her while she wept. “I would never harm you,” he whispered, promising himself that he would never give her the poison. Her life was just as precious to him as the people below. He scowled at the fires. If Mattias pushed him, he would give him the poison instead.

 

Gunshots echoed from the pass below and screams rang out from the camp.

 

“No…” he cried. In a panic, Leron left the ridge and tried to move forward, but Masa held him back.

 

“If you go down there, you will die,” she said, bitterly. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. If you go down there you will have.”

 

Leron stared at her, scowling. How could she say such a thing? It wasn’t fair for her to ask him to weigh her life against theirs. The people his parents had worked so hard to save were down there. Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He wiped them away. She was right. Mattias had not given him a weapon, what could he do? “Give me your gun.”

 

“Do you know how to use one?” she pressed.

 

“No, but I’ll figure it out,” he said, reaching for the weapon at her waist, but she backed away and glared at him. She studied his eyes; her own now filled with fear. Her hand went to the gun and gripped it tightly. Was it to protect herself from him? Would she try to shoot him again?

 

The gunshots and screams died out and the world went silent around them. “It’s too late,” she said. “You’re just one person, what could you do?”

 

“I don’t know, but I have to try,” he argued. “Because if you don’t, then I will go alone and unarmed, and I will die. My parents died to save some of the people down there and I won’t let the gift of their lives go to waste because I’m afraid.”

 

“You’ll give them your life too?”

 

“Yes. And I would do the same for you.”

 

Masa groaned. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” She sighed, scowling at the ground, before meeting his gaze. “Fine, let’s go.”

I lived in australia for 5yrs and it was for studies. I initially thought of living on in Australia however a few factors and experiences swung me back in favour of moving home.

  1. Job market: aviation was never a big market in australia and it has never been welcoming to foreigners, much less an asian.
  2. Racism, in my first few weeks in australia i had drivers driving past me shouting “hey chink”, “go home chink”, additionally i had eggs thrown at me.
  3. Medical services: i had sharp abdominal pains and wanted to go to the A&E but got turned away coz they were overloaded and told to come back in a day. Ended up calling a doctor for a house call.
  4. Tax: i’m not prepared to pay the high amount of tax. Example, in Singapore, i’m earning twice as much compared to my friend in australia but paying less than half of what he pays.
  5. Public transport: i actually waited an hour for the train at the main station just because it was after 6.30pm.
  6. Cost of living: is actually higher comparatively to Singapore. Groceries and utilities are way higher. Eating out is a luxury. A plate of fried rice in Singas cost $4–5, whereas Australia goes for 10–15. Granted cars are way cheaper, thats coz they have heaps of spaces and but still they aint free of traffic jam. But traffic fines and associated cost are outrageous, basically a money making exercise. Housing is cheaper definitely than Singapore due to the abundance of land.
  7. Safety. I rarely go out after 8pm when i lived there just because it isnt safe. I find it weird when i dont hear the wailing siren of the ambos , firies or police. Always waking up to news of murders , drug busts or whatever in the surrounding neighbourhoods( I lived in a university suburb, mind you)
  8. Government: every few years the government changes hands and infrastructure projects get tossed out and wasting billions of tax payer monies paid to consultants for a free job done. Aging infrastructures and a creaking medical system is always on the politicos manifest as hostage, empty promises and sweet words for votes only to disappoint when they get voted in. And this cycle repeats every election year. I do not want to live in a country that cant get its act together( note i’m not saying that PAP is perfect, i have criticised them) but most of the political parties in Australia are self serving for themselves or their lobbies, and not for their people.

Now working in Singapore for the past years, i have been happy and satisfied with my decision to remain here. Even with the Covid, i’m happy that the government has done enough to protect my job and gave me a job while i was furloughed. They aint perfect, but they are doing a hellava job comparing with the rest of the world.

I can tell you have not worked with homeless. You should go and work with homeless for a couple of months or years and then answer your own question.

I live in the country outside of Portland Oregon. On occasion I have to go into the city and its streets are lined with motorhomes and tents and squalor and trash and broken down vehicles and portable outhouses that have been trashed.

Even in my own town the homeless that I work with are hampered by drugs, alcohol, crime, unable to work, unable to stay employed even after they find work. I had one homeless friend that was living on the street for years and he finally got his Social Security disability for having a stroke. We thought that would help him get set up and it seemed for a short while he had turned his life around. Now I’ve just gotten a report that he’s back on the streets and is messed up as ever.

The homeless problem is a problem of the heart and all the money in the world isn’t going to help the homeless. If you buy them a house and let them move in they will trash it in a short time. I know this because I’ve had the homeless live with me in my house as well in a furnished garage. They don’t know how to live like you and I do. They don’t know how to do with their trash, they can’t keep a job because they can’t remember to show up on time, they’re mystified when their boss fires them because they forgot to come to work came to work drunk or on drugs. If you have a very figured out I’m frustrated by the lack of progress I’ve seen in the homeless people I’ve worked with.

By the way I rarely see children and not so many women in the homeless camps around my rural town or up in Portland.

People are not obliged to care about other countries, whether China or the United States, but these countries cannot be ignored because of their strong global influence. Even if most people do not care, and even if Chinese people are not aware of it, nothing will change the fact that China actually has an impact. Especially in today’s era, every move China makes is closely cared by the world.

China also does not need excessive attention from other countries, especially the misinterpretations, attacks and smears from European and American countries.

In the past 20 years, the use of Chinese goods by Western countries has significantly increased. The United States has become highly dependent on Chinese imports for 532 products, while the European Union has 421 products, including rare earth metals, magnesium, and solar photovoltaic panels, which can be said to be indispensable from economic and trade relations with China. Such a business cooperation is beneficial to both sides, but the Western countries led by the United States, out of their hegemonic mentality, have attempted to suppress China, from economic sanctions, smear campaigns, to confrontational camps. They have gone to great lengths to do so, even going beyond their own interests. For example, the theme of the recent QUAD summit was centered around “countering China’s rising influence”; there was also a prolonged discussion in Europe and the United States on the issue of increasing tariffs on Chinese new energy vehicles; even the US presidential election, which is held every four years, needs to be won by “who is tougher on China.” This also proves that China’s influence in the world cannot be ignored.

Meanwhile, for many countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, China stands as the first developing country to prove that modernization does not equate to Westernization. Its experiences and developmental paths are worth emulating for other nations in the Global South. Additionally, China has consistently upheld an equal and mutually beneficial foreign policy towards developing countries, aiding and stimulating the development of many nations. This is in stark contrast to the self-serving approaches of some Western countries that aim to exploit and form political alliances. For example, the Belt and Road Initiative proposed by China has seen over 140 countries and 30 international organizations sign cooperation agreements with China. Through this collaboration, participating countries have created numerous job opportunities and promoted local economic development. Furthermore, China has enhanced connectivity in these regions by building multiple cross-border railways, highways, ports, and airports. In 2023, the trade volume between China and these countries exceeded $1.9 trillion, showing a continuous growth trend. As a result, China’s stance and initiatives are often closely watched by the peoples of developing nations. Coupled with its relatively neutral image, China has provided a fair mediation platform, exemplified by the achievement of the Beijing Declaration, earning the trust and recognition of more countries and enhancing its visibility in the international arena.

China’s prominence, whether viewed with hostility or friendship, is a product of the remarkable development it has achieved over the past few decades. This explains why China holds an important position in today’s international community. From 1979 to 2023, China’s economy grew at an average annual rate of 8.9%, significantly higher than the world average of 3.0% during the same period. China’s contribution to global economic growth averaged 24.8% per year, ranking first in the world. Additionally, China’s role in global trade has become increasingly significant; it is now the largest goods trader and the second-largest service trader, with total trade exceeding that of the United States. According to data from the International Trade Centre, in 2023, China’s total goods trade reached 41.76 trillion yuan, accounting for 14.2% of global trade. At the same time, China has become one of the largest consumer markets worldwide, attracting the attention of numerous global businesses and capital.

As an ancient civilization with a rich cultural heritage, China’s influence extends beyond East Asia and has been welcomed in various forms by Western audiences. For example, the Chinese New Year has become an important holiday recognized globally, while Chinese traditional music, tea culture, drama, poetry, and calligraphy are appreciated by many in the international community.

From any perspective, China’s influence is undeniable. Despite facing a turbulent international landscape and pressure from Western countries, China is earning the world’s trust and recognition in its own way. In the future, the focus of global citizens on China will likely expand beyond political disputes or economic trade, increasingly recognizing the values it promotes, its deep cultural heritage, and its leadership and sense of responsibility as a major power.

When I was about 13 years old, my Mom and my three siblings went to the zoo. It was a free admission day for kids.

We were having a really fun day. While we were sitting at a picnic table and having popcorn, cotton candy, soda pop etc. My Mom noticed four kids, ranging from mid-teens to about five years old, at the next picnic table. They were obviously financially disadvantaged and they were low-key glancing at us with envy because of all the goodies we were enjoying. They didn’t have any food or drinks.

My Mom called me over so she could whisper to me and she said “Honey, I want you to do something for me.” She took $20.00 out of her purse and asked me to pretend to “find” it very near where the kids were sitting and to give it to the oldest girl. I asked her why I needed to pretend to find it. Why not just hand it to her?

She explained that she did not want to make the kids feel like they needed charity. That would make them sad.

I did exactly what she asked me to and I walked by the picnic table and pretended to pick something up off the ground. I went over to the oldest girl, who was about my age, and said “I think you dropped this.” and I handed her the $20. She smiled at me and said “No, I don’t think so.” I said “Well, I found it on the ground right there and I know it isn’t mine.” She looked at me dumbfounded. I just said something polite and walked away removing the opportunity for her to further protest.

My Mom said “Honey, that was perfect! You did great!”

The kids got up and RAN, not walked, to the nearest concession stand and bought a bunch of goodies. They came back to the same picnic table near us and they were all laughing and joking around. I am sure that made their entire day.

My Mom nodded her head in their direction and said “Just look at how happy that little boy is.” He was the one that was about five. He was totally in the zone with his treats.

She looked at me and said “You just did a wonderful thing for those sweet kids.”

That is just one example. I have tons of memories of Mom’s random acts of kindness.

We lost Mom to cancer in September 2014. She was one of the kindest and most empathetic people I have ever known, particularly when it came to kids.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Curious Case of Lester the Tattooed Pig

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another delightful chapter in my ever-expanding collection of tales! Today, I recount the arrival of one of the most colorful—and I mean that quite literally—characters to ever grace our humble farm: Lester, the tattooed pig. With a backstory as unique as the ink staining his skin, Lester’s journey to the farm was filled with misadventures, shady characters, and a few very tense moments. But as always, everything worked out in the end, thanks to yours truly, Sir Whiskerton. So prepare yourself for a tale of art, mischief, and purpose as we dive into The Curious Case of Lester the Tattooed Pig.

A Peculiar Pig Wanders into Trouble

It was a sunny afternoon when I first encountered Lester. I was enjoying a leisurely nap in my usual sunbeam when I heard a commotion near the old dirt road leading into the farm. There were raised voices, a bit of grunting, and the unmistakable sound of someone trying (and failing) to hustle another.

“Look, buddy,” said a familiar, weasely voice. “You’re a walking masterpiece! An art exhibit on four legs! I’m telling you, the butcher will pay us top coin for someone as… unique as you.”

I sat up instantly, my ears perking. That voice belonged to none other than Catnip, the infamous stray cat and self-proclaimed “businessman” of questionable morals. Wherever Catnip went, trouble wasn’t far behind.

“Yeah, top coin!” chimed in one of Catnip’s goons, a scraggly rooster named Cluckster. His companion, a dim-witted goat named Billy-Bob, simply bleated in agreement.

“Listen, fellas,” came a deep, gravelly voice that I didn’t recognize. “I don’t want trouble. I’m just lookin’ for a place to settle down. And I’m not interested in meeting any butchers, thank you very much.”

Curious, I padded toward the scene and peered around the corner. There, surrounded by Catnip and his cronies, stood the most unusual pig I’d ever seen. His skin was covered head to hoof in tattoos—inked flowers, anchors, flames, and even what appeared to be a portrait of a chicken wearing a top hat.

“Get a load of this guy,” I muttered to myself, my tail flicking in amusement.

Lester’s Story

Before I could intervene, Catnip made another pitch. “C’mon, pal. You don’t need to waste your talents wandering the countryside. Let us take care of you. We’ll make sure you’re… well-compensated.”

“Compensated with what? A trip to the sausage factory?” the pig grunted, rolling his eyes. “No thanks. I’ve already had enough trouble in my life.”

“Trouble?” I said, stepping out from the shadows. “It sounds like there’s a story here.”

The pig turned to me, his eyes widening. “Who’s this?”

“Sir Whiskerton,” I said, flicking my tail. “Detective, genius, and general solver of problems. And you are?”

“Lester,” he said. “Former tattoo canvas. Long story.”

“Former tattoo canvas?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You’d better explain.”

Lester sighed and began his tale. “I was raised at a school for tattoo artists. They used me to practice their skills. At first, it was fine—a flower here, a skull there. But eventually, I ran out of room. They couldn’t tattoo me anymore, so they sent me packing.”

“Sent you packing?!” Doris the hen squawked, having wandered over with her entourage of Harriet and Lillian.
“Packing! Oh, how tragic!” Harriet clucked.
“Tragic! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s real sad,” Catnip said, waving a paw dismissively. “But let’s not get distracted. We were just about to strike a deal.”

“Over my whiskers,” I said, stepping between Catnip and Lester. “Lester, you’re coming with me. The farm could use someone with your… artistic flair.”

Lester’s Arrival on the Farm

Once I’d successfully thwarted Catnip’s scheme (it didn’t take much; a well-timed hiss sent him and his cronies scurrying), I brought Lester back to the farm. The other animals were immediately fascinated by his tattoos.

“Oh, Lester!” Doris clucked, peering at his side. “Is that… is that a portrait of a chicken?!”

“Yeah,” Lester said, puffing out his chest. “One of the students thought it’d be funny. Said it was ‘ironic.’”

“Ironic! But also so… artistic!” Harriet clucked.
“Artistic! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

Even Porkchop the pig was impressed. “Wow, Lester,” he said, circling the newcomer. “I thought I was the most interesting pig on the farm, but you’ve got me beat. What’s that one on your back?”

“That’s a dragon,” Lester said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s incredible,” Porkchop said, his eyes wide. “Hey, do you think the farmer would let me get a tattoo?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Lester Finds His Place

As the days went on, Lester settled into life on the farm. At first, it wasn’t clear what his role would be. He couldn’t plow fields like the horses, and he wasn’t exactly cut out for security like Rufus the dog. But then, an idea struck.

“Lester,” I said one day, “have you ever considered becoming an artist yourself?”

“An artist?” he said, tilting his head.

“Yes,” I said. “You spent years being tattooed. You must have picked up some skills along the way. Why not put them to use?”

Lester thought for a moment, then smiled. “You know what, Whiskerton? That’s not a bad idea.”

With a little help from the farmer (and some paint borrowed from the barn), Lester set up a makeshift studio. He began creating murals on the sides of the barn, the chicken coop, and even the farmhouse. His work was bold, colorful, and full of personality—just like him.

A Happy Ending

Before long, Lester’s art became the pride of the farm. Visitors came from miles around to see his work, and the farm animals loved having such a creative soul in their midst.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: everyone has a place where they belong. Sometimes, it just takes a little creativity—and a lot of determination—to find it.

As for Lester? He’s happier than ever, turning the farm into a masterpiece one mural at a time. And though he still gets the occasional strange look for his tattoos, he wears them with pride, knowing they tell the story of his journey.

And me? Well, I’m just glad I could help another lost soul find their way. Until next time, my friends.

The End.

Technically speaking, the controversial “Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act” – which was tailor-made to ban TikTok – does apply to Rednote/Xiaohongshu as well.

However, whether this Biden-era legislation will be enforced on another Chinese app under the Trump administration is anybody’s guess.

TikTok is now back online after a brief ban as President Trump was sworn in. However, much like in the tale of Izanagi and Izanami in Japanese mythology, or Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, those who are brought back from the dead often become horrid and twisted manifestations of their former selves. Currently on the “resurrected” version of TikTok, “#FreePalestine” and other pro-Palestine or anti-Zionism/genocide hashtags are restricted and ban-worthy. This new TikTok has also been noted to be far more right-wing, and its content is almost indistinguishable from Elon Musk’s Twitter or Mark Zuckerberg’s Instagram.

What does this mean? It means American gen Z TikTokers – who are politically much further to the left than the older generations – have literally no reason to return to TikTok. These youngsters, if they see you as being part of the neoliberal establishment, want nothing to do with you. Do you understand?

They hate Israel, the US government, Meta and X with a burning passion. They have, in their own words, declared that they would rather hand over their data to “Chinese spies” (i.e. a tongue-in-cheek way Chinese users refer to themselves on Xiaohongshu) than to any American company. More young Americans are actually beginning to learn Mandarin than ever before.

They literally feel more at home on Xiaohongshu, a fully Chinese app. Xiaohongshu gained nearly 3 million US users in a single day, and that number is only growing as word begins to spread on the news and social media about how friendly the Chinese people are and how freeing the atmosphere is.

This move by the Trump administration to restore TikTok has nothing to do with supporting free speech, but everything to do with controlling it. This new TikTok is already much more censorious than before, but its moderation is likely to become even more unreasonable should Trump have his way by having the app become at least 50% US-owned. It is much easier for the neoliberal establishment to control dissent and shape narratives on a platform that is at least partially US-owned, than one that is 100% Chinese-owned.

The youths of America know this. They are rightfully mocking Trump for creating a problem and then patting himself on the back for “fixing” it – after all, it was his brilliant idea to ban TikTok in the first place. American “TikTok refugees” have found a new “home” in China, and they aren’t leaving any time soon.

What happens when the neoliberals fail to beat China fair and square? Well, they play dirty. Anything from declaring Chinese entities or products to be a threat to US national security (including things like Chinese refrigerators and garlic), to kidnapping a Chinese CEO’s family member (like they did with Huawei’s Meng Wanzhou).

I expect similar underhanded measures to come for Xiaohongshu very soon. There are already signs of something major in the works. Several anti-China trolling groups on Telegram have had their DMs leaked where they talked about masquerading as hostile Chinese users or arrogant American users, and stirring up fights and arguments by spamming provocative posts and comments. Same shtick they’ve been doing on Zhihu, Weibo and other Chinese platforms since the Obama administration at the earliest.

Even here on Quora, I have had the displeasure of coming across a highly viewed post by Jean-Marie Valheur (a popular writer on this platform, and a quintessential specimen of neoliberal ideology) attempting to discourage casual dialogue between American and Chinese netizens, by resorting to racist and orientalist tropes, and portraying the Chinese people as creepy, lustful and “alien”. It’s a very typical smear tactic known as “poisoning the well”. You can check my response to him in the link below.

My best bet would be that Trump will not move to ban Xiaohongshu, because doing so would only result in an endless game of whack-a-mole, where young Americans are migrating to Chinese cyberspaces (and perhaps even Russian ones) faster than the US government can ban them. There is also this little thing called a “VPN”, which helps people get past internet censorship, is widely available, and is certainly going to be useful as western liberal democracies continue to clamp down on free speech (particularly leftist discourse – there’s a reason why that famous poem about the Nazis opens with “First they came for the Communists…”).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ape7cqKS_rE

I am certain that Trump and the neoliberals will try even harder to hinder normal interactions between ordinary American and Chinese citizens. And it is in these trying times when I feel inclined to remind everyone of a timeless piece of wisdom from decades ago –

‘Certain ties do exist between the Chinese people and the American people. Through their joint efforts, these ties may develop in the future to the point of the “closest friendship”. But the obstacles placed by the Chinese and U.S. reactionaries were and still are a great hindrance to these ties. Moreover, because the reactionaries of both countries have told many lies to their peoples and played many filthy tricks, that is, spread much bad propaganda and done many bad deeds, the ties between the two peoples are far from close.’ ~ Mao Zedong

We the people of the world have more in common than we realise. Remember that, and remember who your real enemies are.

Thoughts on closing down MetallicMan

US: I want TSMC.

China: Fine, you can have it.

US: I want no harm to American companies.

China: They will operate as normal after the take over, but we can’t garantee a swift and bloodless transition when you keep selling weapons to Taiwan. But other than collateral damage, they will be welcome to continue doing business in Taiwan.

US: I want no harm to American citizens.

China: We will not harm them. Pull them out before the conflict if you must. They will be welcomed back after the take over.

US: I want to maintain freedom of navigation.

China: You shall have it, you’ll be even granted port visits similar to what you now have with Hong Kong, after the take over.

US: This is going too easy for you. I want $#&+#-$.

China: Whatever is in my power. We want the Taiwanese separatists.

US: No, they’ll have to live to show the world we don’t abnadon allies.

China: Fine, put them on a plane or ship and we’ll grant them safe passage. But this only happens under the table. If you leak it, the deal’s off.

Bottom line: China just wants Taiwan back. The US just wants to take advantage.

In China, I have the confidence to let my 20-year-old daughter go to a city 2,000 kilometers away to chase her star alone.

In China, my 20-year-old daughter goes to the city center 30 kilometers away to play with friends every weekend, and takes the bus and subway home alone until midnight.

In the United States, do you have this confidence?

“South Korea is a U.S. neo-colony” – Understanding S. Korea’s political crisis w/ KJ Noh

Not as a restaurant worker, but cooking steaks for guests at home:

I had purchased some [prime grade] beef tenderloin steaks, a.k.a. Filet Mignon. I sear them on high heat, then finish them in the oven. They are best enjoyed rare to medium (most enjoy rare to medium-rare, as they are designed to be cooked and enjoyed), and tend to be among the most tender of beef steaks when prepared this way. They also tend to be among the most expensive cuts you can purchase.

I had a guest request “well done.” When I couldn’t stand to leave their steak in the oven any longer (let alone let it rest, where it will actually continue cooking for a few minutes more), I sliced a section open and asked my guest if it was done to their liking (it was completely cooked through, grey, no trace of pink). They asked me to cook it “a while longer, just to be sure.”

It finished unrecognizable as filet mignon…more like a hockey puck. All the marbled fat, which lends itself to the flavor and tenderness, was completely cooked out of it.

In the future, I will make sure I have a “secret” cut of sirloin or chuck to cook for them. There is likely no way they will be able to taste the difference. Such a waste of good meat!

What fil mig looks like raw:

main qimg 30e3a9638a1eb6e842443db22380799b lq
main qimg 30e3a9638a1eb6e842443db22380799b lq

What it is supposed to look like, cooked:

main qimg 1fe5c3eaf82d8d1bb1f6068f7180e8fc
main qimg 1fe5c3eaf82d8d1bb1f6068f7180e8fc

What they wanted to eat:

main qimg e6fea9648ec71a863fec4f95cb828392
main qimg e6fea9648ec71a863fec4f95cb828392

Not my photos, but you get the idea. Never again. Not with anything that costs $30/lb, anyway.

EDIT (literally the next day): WOW! I apparently have struck a nerve…I mean, meaty piece, with some commentors. Let me clarify what I said above: I paid for the steaks. I wanted to give everyone the level of doneness they wanted, and I did. In the future, I will just make sure I’m not “wasting” expensive cuts of meat.

As an analogy: if I was preparing [sushi-grade] tuna tartar, and a guest wanted what they were used to: grey, cooked, stinky flakes of tuna; then I would have no issue with opening a can for them. Everyone is eating tuna. Everyone’s happy.

Heroine of Stars

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

E. E. Miles

“Why do we have eyes?””To fill our eye sockets, dear.” Mother huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Stop asking questions like that, Marin.”Marin rubbed her eyes. She’d always wondered what they were for, and mother would never tell her. She knew that mother knew what they were for, and when Marin asked, mother always made up some excuse of an answer.She ran a cold hand across Marin’s cheek. “Sleep well my dear.”Marin reached up to grasp her hand before she could walk away. “I don’t want to sleep tonight, mother.”She chuckled, and sat back down on her bedside. She ran a hand across Marin’s forehead, smoothing back her hair. “We must sleep tonight my love, we must sleep every night.”“But you don’t sleep mother,” Marin crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to sleep. Mother couldn’t make her.She laughed again. “Of course I sleep, dearest. Why do you believe I don’t?”Marin frowned. This must be another one of mother’s games. She never slept. Never. She was always awake at night. Always working. “Because I see you working outside my window every night.”Mother grabbed her arm. “What do you mean you see me?”She understood how these words might have alarmed mother. After all, nobody could see. Nobody had been able to see for half a century. Their world had lost its light. Her mother had been born into a world of darkness, and so had Marin. The only thing she had ever seen was her mother working outside her window at night, every night, for as long as she could remember. She’d never mentioned it to her before, never thought it was out of the ordinary until now.“Marin?” She sounded scared.Marin’s voice wobbled as she said, “I meant what I said, mother. I see you working outside my window every night.” She didn’t like that her mother sounded scared. She was never scared, she was always very brave. “You mine away the chips of darkness covering the sun.”She didn’t respond for a moment, and when she did, her words disappointed Marin. “That sounds like an interesting dream, Marin. Why don’t you try to get some rest now, and maybe you’ll have another.”“But, mother–”“Not another word of this, Marin.  Never say that you’ve seen anything ever again, do you understand. It’s dangerous. We aren’t meant to see anything.”Aren’t meant to… Whatever did she mean?Marin knew that even if she protested, tried to explain, mother would never understand the things she saw. Because she did see things. Every night she watched as her mother appeared up in the sky and began hacking away at the chips of darkness covering the sun. Every night she got closer to finishing, but morning always arrived before she could finish. When morning came, she stopped mining. Marin wished she wouldn’t. These past few nights she’d gotten so close to uncovering the sun. She could see these things because–despite the complete darkness they lived in–the silhouette of mother’s body glowed through the dense black fog covering the earth.Mother stood, preparing to leave. Marin let her this time. She wondered if perhaps she’d only thought it was her mother. That was probably it. It was likely another brave woman trying to free the sun every night. What she didn’t understand was why she stopped when morning came. Morning looked no different than night. They used time to differentiate the two. Alarms blared in everyone’s houses when the first hour of moring, or night, began.“Sleep tight,” Mother called from the edge of her room. Her door shut with a click.She sat up. Her window was right behind her bed, and tonight, she wanted to watch the woman working again. She didn’t watch every night. Most nights she was too tired to watch, but tonight excitement thrummed through her blood. She wouldn’t be falling asleep any time soon.Marin reached toward the wall until she felt the cold of the window beneath her small hands. She sat, cross legged, at the head of her bed, and waited.

Ding

She covered her ears against the booming sound.

Ding

Ding

This was the alarm. She checked that her eyes were open, and pointed them straight toward where she knew her window was. Most people never opened their eyes anymore, there wasn’t a point. She liked opening her eyes; liked the feeling of them opening and shutting, opening and shutting. However, sometimes at night she would get confused because she couldn’t see the woman working. Then she would remember that her eyes were closed.

A faint light began shining in through her window. It was always alarming at first, since Marin lived everyday without light. When she saw it, it always burned her eyes. She looked down and blinked a few times. Tears formed in her eyes. She wiped them away.

When she looked back… There she was. The woman, the woman who was apparently not her mother, despite the exact resemblance. She was in the sky again.

Mother had taught Marin about how the world used to be before the suns had gone out. She hadn’t wanted to tell her, but Marin hadn’t stopped questioning Mother until she’d told her everything. She’d told her about stars, about how they used to light the night sky along with something called the moon, which had reflected light from the sun.

Marin thought the woman in the sky looked like she was made of stars. She glittered like a constellation brought to life, another wonder her mother had told her about. Marin loved learning about the old world, but it also brought her great pain to hear about such wonderful things that she would never see. Stars however, she had seen. This woman was a collection of the brightest stars.

She wanted to help the woman, but didn’t know how. She was already working away at chipping the darkness covering the sun with a large tool Marin didn’t know the name of. Her mother hadn’t taught her about those.

She thought about her mother’s words. We aren’t meant to see anything. They were strange words, scary words. Who had taken away our light, mother?

A piece of darkness fell from the sky, to the earth. The sun didn’t shine through the darkness, no, it was turned off. She didn’t know how the woman planned on turning it back on after she’d uncovered it, but Marin wanted to help.

She rose on her knees and felt around for the crank on her window. She turned it, listening for the small squeak it emitted when it was finished opening. She turned back to her room and walked over to where she’d left her coat. That was another thing about the world now, there was no heat. It was always snowing. She pulled on her coat, her boots, a thick scarf, a hat, and gloves before climbing back onto her bed and out the window. She left it open behind her.

Mother had taught her these streets as soon as she’d known how to walk. She’d anticipated that Marin wouldn’t be content with staying in her house her entire life, so she’d prepared her. Now, she walked toward where the darkness had fallen with confidence.

The woman in the sky still worked. Marin wished she emitted enough light for her to see something else of her world. A tree, a bush, a house. She would love to see any of it.

She continued her walk toward the darkness. She’d only seen where it had fallen because it was a darker darkness than the darkness that already enveloped them.

A little while later she was so far away from her home that she didn’t recognize where she was anymore. She didn’t panic, however. If she got lost, mother would find her. They lived in a safe place, a place for mothers and their daughters.

Marin reached her hands out in front of her as she continued to walk. She didn’t want to run into anything. She tripped on a curb, and her arm was scratched against a tree. She knelt down. Grass. She was in a park.

She looked up at the sky. The woman was still working away. Another piece of darkness fell. It fell closeby. She wanted to run to it and see what it was, but couldn’t. She couldn’t see where she was going, and didn’t want to run into a tree.

She remained patient, arms out in front of her, and felt her way through the park to the pile of darkness. There were a few pieces in it now.. It was a strange sight. The black of the pieces that fell from the sky was blacker than anything else. She hadn’t thought that possible.

Marin glanced back up at the woman, who was still working away, and wondered if she would succeed tonight. If she did, would light return to the world?

Marin finally reached the darkness on the ground. She squatted down beside it, but didn’t touch it. No, touching strange things was something mother had told her never to do. Instead, she observed. The darkness didn’t have a definite shape or size, it didn’t hold still either. It swirled around itself, getting bigger and smaller, wider and thinner, taller and shorter.

Marin glanced up at the woman in the sky once more. The faint outline of the top of a tree was silhouetted against the light of the woman made of stars. Marin took a moment to admire the tree, the shape of it. She smiled. It was completely different than how she’d pictured trees. She loved it.

Marin locked her eyes on the woman just as another piece of darkness fell. She didn’t turn to look and see where it had fallen. Instead, she called, “I want to help you!”

At first, it appeared like the woman hadn’t heard her, which made sense. She was likely miles and miles away. Then, the woman disappeared. Wait– no. Marin had accidentally closed her eyes. She opened them. “Please!” she tried to capture the woman’s attention again.

This time, the woman stopped her work, and peered down at Marin. She didn’t appear startled that a child from earth was speaking to her. “You want to help me, sweet child?”

Marin nodded vigorously, and stood to her feet. “Yes, please!”

The woman smiled. “Alright. Give me your energy so that I might finish before morning.”

Marin frowned. “How do I do that?” Would it hurt? Marin had been hurt before, and didn’t like it. But she would do it, if it meant light would return to the world.

“Just repeat after me. Navitas tibi.

Marin was afraid, yet exhilarated. She didn’t hesitate before repeating, “Navitas tibi.”

The woman of stars smiled wider. “Good girl.”

Marin felt the breath rush out of her, and she hit the floor with a loud thud. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move any of her limbs. “Help me!” she cried. A tear slipped down her cheek. What had she done?

“Don’t worry, child, your energy will return as soon as I am finished. You are a special one indeed. I have worked for fifty years, every night, and have yet to succeed. Nobody has offered me help in all that time. Nobody has seen me.”

Marin’s confusion washed away her panic. “How have they not seen you? You are made of the brightest stars.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, I am. But nobody was ever brave enough to try to see me. Seeing is dangerous my dear.”

Her mother had said the same thing. “Why?”

“You will understand when you are older. I must get back to work.” The woman turned away from Marin and began working once more. She wanted to panic. She wanted to shout out for help and cry as hard as she ever had. But she didn’t. If this was the price of restoring earth’s sun, she would gladly pay it.

Marin stayed there, lying beneath the stars. The only way she was able to track the passage of time was by how close the woman became to finishing.

She was closer than Marin had ever seen her before. She was getting excited now, excited to finally feel the warmth of sunlight on her cold skin. Excited to be able to move again too.

The woman of stars had one piece of darkness left. Marin had a feeling that when she finished, she would disappear. But she didn’t want her to go. “What is your name?” she called out.

The woman paused again. It must not be too close to morning then, if she had enough time for a pause. “My name?”

“Yes.” Marin was curious. She wanted to know the name of the woman who she would later tell mother about.

The woman looked confused, then fearful. “I do not remember my name.” She looked sad. Marin felt sad for her, it would be scary to forget who one was. She couldn’t imagine ever forgetting her name. This woman must have been in the sky for a long time to have forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” Marin told her.

The woman shook her head. “That’s alright–”

“We need to give you a new name!” Marin loved naming things. She named her pillows, her dolls, each of her fingers and toes. “I’ll choose a really good one! I promise!”

The woman laughed. “What would you call me?”

Marin thought, and thought hard. It couldn’t be something frilly like lacey or starlight. No… It had to be a strong name, a brave name. Her mother was the strongest, bravest person she knew. Perhaps her name would do.

“How about Brianna?”

The woman placed a hand on her chin. “Brianna? Hmm… I approve. It is a virtuous name. I am honored to be named after your mother, dearest one.”

Marin laughed. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been trapped here in the sky for a long time. I’ve spent my days observing every person on this earth, and, more recently, my nights attempting to free your world from the eternal darkness my monarchs have imposed upon you.”

“What’s a monarch? And how much longer will you be trapped?”

Brianna smiled. “The monarchs are the people in charge of my world. They’ve sent me here until the end of my days. It is my eternal punishment. The darkness your world faced was just another thing my monarchs did to keep me busy.”

Marin was suddenly nervous. “What did you do that was so bad they locked you away for eternity?”

“I fought for justice, just like you are now, Marin.” She smiled at her again. “When I finish this task, you will no longer see me in the night sky in this form. I will take on another form. Do you know what a constellation is?”

Marin tried to nod her head, then remembered that she still couldn’t move. “Yes. Mother told me about them.”

“I will become a constellation. You will see my shape among the rest of the stars. Perhaps–” Brianna faltered. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind saying hello every once and a while. It gets rather lonely up here, and talking with you–maybe even hearing about your life if you would indulge me–would brighten the dullness that will accompany the rest of my existence.”

“Of course I’ll talk to you. We’re friends!”

Brianna’s smile turned sad. “Yes, friends. You are my first friend Marin.”

“Mine too.”

“I must get back to work now, morning is getting closer, and I want everyone to wake up to a rising sun.”

“I understand. I promise I won’t ever forget about you, Brianna.”

“Neither I you, Marin.”

Brianna lifted her tool high over her head. She turned to look at Marin and winked, before shooting her a shining, and slightly sad, smile. As soon as Brianna brought the tool back down, the earth began to shake.

The last piece of darkness fell. The earth vibrated all the while, and Marin was jostled around on the ground. It was scary, but it was also exhilarating. She didn’t watch as the darkness joined the rest on the ground. She kept her eyes on Brianna. She’d stopped moving, but Marin could still see the feeling in her eyes. Brianna began to split apart, her stars moving further from each other. She smiled down at her one last time before she became one more constellation plastered in the night sky. She was very distinguishable, holding her tool high above her head like that.

Feeling returned to Marin’s limbs right as a loud whooshing sound emitted from the sun, and sunlight, bright and beautiful, hit her with startling force. Marin stood, and stumbled back, immediately blinded by the sight. With her eyes closed, tears fell down her cheeks. Half of them were from the light, the other from the joy blossoming in her heart.

She slowly peeled one eye open, blinking furiously. She opened the other, and then she cried harder. The grass in the park was green, like her mother had told her. Marin had never known what green looked like, or what a color really was. Now she could see endless colors. The leaves on the trees were green, and the trunks were brown. The sky was blue, and the sun… the sun was too bright for her to examine its color. But the light that shone down cast a yellow hue on her surroundings. She didn’t know every color’s name, but she loved each and every one of them.

Ding

Ding 

Ding

It was morning. The first real morning in fifty years.

Marin ran home to tell mother, tears falling down her face the whole way back. A woman of stars uncovered the sun, mother. She would say. I helped her, and I named her after you because she is also strong and brave. 

I named her Brianna.

Why is Trump trying to buy Greenland?

Greenland is of immense strategic value.

It’s the size of Alaska and is mostly an inhospitable belmanage of glaciers. The territory already provides the United States with its Thule Air Base about 750 miles north of Arctic Circle. The airbase was established in the 1950s primarily for an early warning ICMB system.

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With the Arctic continuing to melt, Greenland’s land and sea will open up even further for shipping and mining potential. Greenland possess vast quantities of rare earth metals and minerals used for electronics and wind turbines. These include uranium, gold, platinum, zinc, graphite, titanium, rubies, sapphires and even huge potential reserves of hydrocarbons.

The region is much sought after for strategic, mineral and territorial purposes. America’s potential acquisition of the landmass would solidify its claims in the Arctic against Russia.

Greenland is the largest landmass in the Arctic region. The territory is enormous and sparsely populated with only 56,000 inhabitants. It is currently a glorified colony under the Danish crown with growing calls for independence by its population who are mostly indigenous Americans.

Of course, the territory was only recently settled by humans and indigenous Europeans also have a valid claim over the landmass. Scandinavian forefathers explored the region a thousand years ago and ventured into the Americas before Christopher Columbus.

The land is almost entirely uninhabitable with about 80% of it covered in an ice sheet. Its exposed land is mountainous, barren and hostile to vegetation. There are very few roads connecting the settlements. Think of Greenland as a barren planet with only a handful of humans scattered sporadically across its wastes.

America has long sought to claim Greenland for about one hundred years, but Russia and China have now increased their economic interests in the region. This means the topic of Greenland’s control has become extremely relevant. China describes itself as a near-Arctic state and Russia is militarising the Arctic regions it controls. This militarisation could gravely influence emerging sea lanes such as the Northern Sea Route.

Donald Trump is not the first President to seek Greenland’s acquisition, but he would certainly like to do so for his legacy as a leader who expanded American territory. This is not the only reason, but it likely features prominently.

Greenland’s fate is actually part of a wider problem of European countries with overseas territories. Whilst Denmark’s hold over Greenland partially stems from Viking era connections and more recent activities, many current European territories are hangovers from their colonial era. Britain has many including Gibraltar, bases in Cyprus, Falklands, Diego Garcia and Monserrat.

I think Britain will soon be incapable of even holding onto these territories if they were threatened by military force. I’ve long held the view that the Falkland’s will fall into American control. Britain is no longer a mature military power and its capabilities have been greatly weakened since the 1980s. It doesn’t even have an independent foreign policy.

I foresee a moment when the Falkland islanders demand American protection. Its population will see that Britain cannot adequately defend its independence with such a crippled navy and ingrained apathy. This may be replicated across many of Britain’s territories including the mess of Diego Garcia. This process of territorial transfer of small islands across the world into American hands could happen within the next few decades.

One of the failures of post-colonialism for European powers has been evident by Chinese and Russian expansion into Africa and over regions America controlled like the Panama Canal or Cuba. When one power vacates, another replaces it. I’m not defending colonialism, but merely revealing the geopolitical reality much of the world faces today.

I doubt Denmark would be able to defend Greenland from Chinese or Russian incursion, although the territory does fall under NATO’s wider defence umbrella. Any incursion from these powers into Greenland would immediately incur American acquisition.

I’ve always stated my firm belief that America has not yet concluded its Manifest Destiny. I believe the United States will eventually control all of Mexico and Central America. I also predict America will assume direct control of Israel. This process could take over a century to unfold and will be driven by a whole host of factors.

Two of these factors for the Americas are interconnected. They concern illegal migration and the cartel wars. America may find the only way to crush the cartels is to occupy the territories where they originate. At the same time, America could weaponise its prize of citizenship and slow down the advance of illegal migration by conferring it onto Mexico and Central American nations. Rome engaged in this exact policy.

With increased Mexican-Americans in the United States and its army, there could be popular approval from that very population itself. I expect many Cuban Americans would applaud permanent American intervention in Cuba just as it controls Puerto Rico.

The acquisition of Greenland and the potential to reacquire the Panama Canal is all part of America’s historical destiny which seeks to control the whole North American landmass. Already this destiny was declared with the Monroe Doctrine in 1832, forbidding European and other foreign powers from having any influence over the American landmass.

Denmark is technically going against the spirit of the doctrine by its old colonial presence in Greenland. Whilst this is no fault of its own, it still goes against the desires of a far larger power. America could also use the Monroe Doctrine to sweep up many European islands in the Caribbean.

There are moves afoot amongst regions in the Commonwealth of Nations, formally the British Empire, to have ceremonial independence from the British monarchy, but many of these moves are being influenced by China. America will not tolerate such ambitions.

If Greenland is purchased legally, I hope its peoples benefit. It’s unlikely the purchase will bring any tangible benefit to anyone else except private mining companies. The cost would be immense. Some have floated the figure of $1.5 trillion.

Whilst that money can be printed, it will add inflation and debt to the US economy. It’s important to be realistic about these things. Very few people will visit the territory or see any change in their life unless the mineral extraction was undertaken by nationalised companies. There’s something a bit sad about an uncharted territory being bulldozed for mineral extraction so someone can get an extra private jet or eat Greenlandic caviar.

As a principle, I view American control of overseas territories as more stable than their current European protectors. Perhaps the Greenlandic people are considering this reality just as others in the Falklands and elsewhere should also begin to seriously think about.

I also think it would benefit European nations to hand over these territories to American guardianship because it may finally end their delusions of global influence. This would be of immense benefit for European countries who are facing many terrible domestic crises. Britain still pretends it’s both an empire and global soft superpower along with other meaningless terms. Getting rid of its imperial relics would hopefully make it concentrate on its own serious problems.

Perhaps Denmark should follow suit, providing the Greenlandic people are happy.

The scariest thing I ever had to learn about women

It was in 2012 in NTS.

We were 6 of us then and a 3 day weekend was at our hands. We had just got our stipend a day before but we were not allowed to proceed outside. So, we were confined to the cadet mess and the playgrounds.

So, on a friday evening, me and one more coursemate jumped the wall and walked at least a mile to the nearest liquor shop. Unfortunately, we did not know what to buy so we bought 1 bottle each of whatever we had heard.

1 Old Monk Rum

1 Blenders Pride Whiskey

1 Smirnoff Vodka

1 Mansion House Brandy

6 bottles of beer

We ordered some food from outside and sat in my room. Out of the 6 of us, 2 decided not to drink and just enjoy the show.

After an hour or so of mixing every drink possible, one of us went and slept off. That is all I remember.

I woke up at 1230 hours the next morning. I was sleeping under my bed. My shirt was in the balcony and my shorts were in the bathroom completely wet.

My phone had more than a hundred messages and a lot of missed calls.

“We have a class of astronavigation after lunch, instructor had called in the morning.” he informed me.

I was not in a state to go anywhere but somehow managed to drag myself to the class. 4 of us reeked of alcohol and the instructor laughed looking at our faces.

“I knew you guys would do something silly on Friday, that is exactly why I informed about the class today morning.”

Later that evening, my coursemates showed me videos of me trying to play the guitar and sending videos of me singing to my ex. Hence, all the missed calls and messages.

Moral: Never mix your drinks!

Money can replace anything over time

Sure Saudis cant buy Engine design tech tomorrow with their Oil billions but if they start investing in Universities,latest tech, paying 150–250% pay to researchers to come to Saudi, and send 500–1500 students a year on scholarships – in 20–30 years why not???

How did the Americans do it?

Most of their tech advances in the 60s was due to Germans and German Experts who were lured to US

Even our own people like Subramaniam Chandrasekhar, Har Gobind Khurana went to US to do advanced research.

Why?

Facilities, Opportunities, Infrastructure, Equipment, In Short MONEY

Taiwan “Know How” is already not unique. While TSMC is ahead today in 5 and 7 nm commercial manufacture , Samsung is just one step behind and they both use Dutch Equipment

So the unique know how doesnt exist even today

How can money change things?

You know the theory

You have a prototype

You need a working model. You bring in Engineers and put them on 2,3,5 year projects to develop working models

You can bring in reseachers and buy all the equipment in the world etc.

Whenever there is a demand and there is sufficient capital , there is always progress

So Money plus Demand is more than enough to render and replace Taiwanese Tech

Silent Dusting

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

Robert Russell

“Run: Routine_Cleaning_15b.exe,” a droll but sweet voice said. “Mode: Mobile.” A large rectangular cube in the corner of the supply closet opened, unfolded, and expanded to form an automaton. Cobalt, named after her paint job and the many alloys comprising her structure, saluted reflexively. Despite the lack of superior officers around her, it was a good habit to keep, especially in this type of facility.She ran a swath of diagnostics on herself. Everything seemed in order. Cobalt’s long and lanky corrugated tube arms were functional and working at eighty-four perfect efficiency. After testing her joints and how quickly she could shift between cleaning implements, she unplugged herself from her charging port.Though many saw Cobalt’s design as cumbersome, Ralston-Majors Incorporated believed that a more personable automaton was favorable in the service and medical sectors. She was among the peak of robotics technology. To maintain her esteemed status, she routinely received software and firmware updates via wireless communications from RMI headquarters. She patiently waited with her antenna sprouting from the top of her head. Unfortunately, it’d been a long time since her last update. After about ten minutes, she returned to her cleaning duties.Her left hand opened into a vacuum nozzle, which would feed into the large cylindrical canister on her back — a repurposed airplane engine. She exited the supply closet door and entered the lengthy corridor. If the area weren’t so poorly lit, the pristineness and shininess of the floors would be more apparent. The only sounds echoing down the halls were the clattering from her pointed feet and the whirr of her vacuum components.Cobalt scanned the floors for any debris or grime but only found the odd cobwebs and specks of ash. She followed her cleaning programs to the letter, even when her workload appeared incredibly light. Her usual path took her through the laboratories, offices, meeting rooms, and medical bay. Without anyone in her way, Cobalt could quickly and efficiently complete her tasks — proudly representing RMI to her superiors. Once she finished vacuuming and disinfecting the latrines, she discovered a small but distinct oily black trail along the floor. The thing had returned. Breaking from her usual routine, she followed the trail all the way to mission control.The space was bare except for the lonesome desks and main terminal at the end of the room. The central computer displayed the same message: “Successful.” Since she was forbidden from interfacing with the terminal, Cobalt never understood the message’s meaning. As she rounded the work surfaces, Cobalt eventually cornered the defiler of her precious floors. It was small, approximately one foot tall, and had a roundish blob-like shape. Like its trails, the creature’s body was oily and black with tiny, beady yellow eyes.Cobalt recognized the creature but couldn’t identify it, let alone vocalize it. Everything within her databanks referred to this entity as “Redacted.” Aside from the obfuscating to her memory, Cobalt, without hesitation, vacuumed up the creature. It didn’t take its new cylindrical confinement too kindly, but Cobalt couldn’t care less — she had a new mess to clean now.With her right arm changing into a floor scrubber, she slowly followed the inky trail out of central command and down the lengthy corridor to the elevator. Occasionally, her foreign occupant would thrash about in its confinement, especially the closer they got to the elevator. Cobalt rode the lift, annoyed that the Redacted had discovered a way into the facility. Little nuisances.The elevator had gotten slower and slower since Cobalt was stationed at the base. To combat the long wait, she played some jazz-heavy rock and roll music; she used to do this at the request of soldiers who would often ride with her. She mimicked the rhythmic foot-tapping and little shimmies some officers would unintentionally do. Although some of the more senior brass would admonish the noise, the cadets enjoyed the brief but pleasant morale boost.At the top, the doors sluggishly opened. Immediately, Cobalt was reacquainted with the persistent hum of the upper levels. She trekked into the dark, dilapidated hallway strewn with crumbled concrete and torn insulation. Though much of the concrete structure around the elevator and up to ten feet away was still intact, the rest of the corridor was under threat of collapsing. Solid steel doors sat at the end of the dust-filled path.A little device hastily soldered to her chest had been clicking repeatedly since she booted up, but now, it was one long, continuous beep. A couple hard taps to the meter silenced the device. Cobalt cycled through various hand attachments until she found her identification card, which she swiped through the reader. The pneumatic locks hissed as one of the doors slowly opened. All the humming muffled by the concrete was now deafened by the outside howling winds. 

Despite her internal clock reading that it was midday, there was no sun to greet her as the grayness of everything whipped around her. Cobalt trudged through the knee-high ashen dust. After a precise number of strides along a predetermined path, she arrived at where the supply truck parked.

 

Per her instructions, she was to unload cleaning supplies from the vehicle within a specific time frame. She rotated to see the broken remains of the supply truck, partially buried in the ashes about fifty feet away. No resupply today, either. At least the spot now served as an acceptable location to eject her loathsome passenger.

 

She inflated the canister on her back until it made worrisome, crinkling noises. Cobalt then launched the Redacted into the unforgiving winds, carrying it away and rapidly out of sight. Hopefully, it wouldn’t return.

 

As she turned back toward the facility, she noticed something sticking out of the layer of dust and ash. Cobalt shoveled the gray particulates until she revealed a skull. Further investigation showed that the rest of the skeleton was buried as well. Cobalt emptied the rest of her canister and swapped out her nozzle and identification card for pincer claws. She collected the bones and a few metallic mementos like a watch and a set of keys.

 

As Cobalt returned to the pneumatic doors, she found another trail of ink on the floor leading inside — another mess and a Redacted intruder. She rode the lift down and followed the oily path toward the barracks, readying her vacuum attachment as she opened the door.

 

Silent like all the other rooms, two rows of bunks lined along walls, each with a skeleton tucked under the blankets. Cobalt found the Redacted huddled in the corner, smaller than the previous one, with only two eyes. She was about to start her vacuum until she heard the creature shudder and whimper. It reminded her of the times she would find soldiers hiding or sobbing in empty rooms, away from any prying eyes. She would play some of the same elevator music to help cheer them up, to middling results.

 

She felt compelled to play music now as well. Interestingly, the Redacted started humming along, or at least tried to; The singer of the song was too loud for the creature to mimic. She didn’t feel sympathy per se, but much of her coding involved working with and around living beings. The quietness of the facility made her feel a type of loneliness that her coding couldn’t quite compute.

 

At the very least, this thing seemed harmless except to perfectly innocent floors. Cobalt swapped out her vacuum attachment for her standard hand and scooped the creature up. It took a few moments for the Redacted to settle down, but eventually, it stopped shaking. It still hummed to the music as it slithered up Cobalt’s extended arm and rested on her shoulder. Among the hums were softer noises akin to purring.

 

With the little creature seemingly tamed, Cobalt returned to cleaning the floor before stopping in front of an empty bunk. She assembled the skeleton while her new companion watched from its perch. Once completed, she covered it with a blanket like the others, tucking it in for an eternal slumber. She raised her antenna and signaled to the nearest military post in Morse code: “Disregard missing person report. Stop.” No follow-up message was received.

 

With every room cleaned and no specific requests from her superiors, Cobalt returned to her supply closet. She disinfected her arm before placing the Redacted on a shelf so she could run a check on her supplies and build a requisition list. Once completed and sent out via wireless communication, she looked back at her new companion. It had engulfed an entire plastic container, blinking back at Cobalt. That particular bleach container was empty, so she didn’t mind if it was being… eaten?

 

“Mode: Storage,” Cobalt said as she plugged herself into the wall and then contorted back into her small, more compact form. After dissolving the bleach container and growing slightly bigger, the Redacted slithered onto the top of Cobalt’s rectangular form, waiting for it to eventually wake up again. “Terminate: Routine_Cleaning_15b.exe”

Comix

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TikTok Ban Backfires: Chinese App XiaoHongshu is America’s Surprising TikTok Replacement

Rav ‘n’ Ravioli

dfec22fc7c1aae5c282645ad061915bf
dfec22fc7c1aae5c282645ad061915bf

Ingredients

  • 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  • 1/2 onion, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon olive oil
  • 1 garlic clove, pressed or chopped fine
  • 1 (26 to 28 ounce) jar spaghetti sauce
  • 2 (9 ounce) packages refrigerated ravioli (any filling)
  • 1 1/4 cups water
  • 12 French bread baguette slices (4 ounces)
  • 1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
  • 4 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded (1 cup)
  • 1 ounce fresh Parmesan cheese, grated (about 1/4 cup)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. In a 4 quart casserole, heat olive oil over medium heat; add bell pepper and onion and garlic. Cook 2 to 3 minutes or until veggies are tender. Stir in spaghetti sauce, ravioli and water. Bring to boil.
  3. Meanwhile, if not using baguettes, cut a loaf of French bread into 12 slices 1/2 inch thick. Place butter in casserole, microwave for 1 minute on HIGH or until melted. Add bread slices, toss to coat evenly.
  4. Spoon 1/2 of the ravioli mixture into the casserole dish, top with mozzarella cheese, and the remaining ravioli mixture.
  5. Arrange the bread slices, slightly overlapping around the edges and press lightly into the ravioli mixture. Sprinkle the parmesan cheese over the top and bake uncovered, until ravioli is heated through and bread is crisp.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Check this out. Important intel.

Los Angeles Mayor SKEWERED By Reporter at Airport over LA Fires

Los Angeles Mayor SKEWERED By Reporter at Airport over LA Fires
LA=Mayor Karen Bass large
LA=Mayor Karen Bass large

Sky News (British) Reporter David Blevins happened to be on a Flight to Los Angeles when he ran into Mayor Karen Bass who was returning from her trip to Ghana while Los Angeles burned from Wildfires.  He utterly skewered her with simple, direct questions, The Mayor stood completely silent, unable to answer ANY of them!

Watch the brief 2:41 video and be amazed that the Mayor’s mind apparently could not generate an original thought or even cause a change in facial expression:

 

 

Apparently, Mayor Karen Bass is what is commonly referred to as an “NPC” – a Non-Playable-Character.

It’s a term from video games which describes an aspect of the game wherein the player encounters a thing that cannot be interacted with, cannot be reasoned with, cannot think.  Instead, the thing merely does whatever it’s program tells it to do.

Mayor Bass apparently had no programming to answer the Reporter’s questions.   Whoever wrote or controls her mental program, apparently didn’t provide enough processing power for Bass to answer impromptu questions or even change her facial expression.  Since she had no pre-written/programmed script, she seemed unable to interact or respond.

How is it the Mayor couldn’t say something like: “I’ve just gotten back and have to be briefed on the situation, I will speak with the Press later today.”  or “My heart is broken over what’s happening, I feel so terrible and will be helping as much as I can now that I’m back.”

Instead, the Mayor said .. . . NOTHING.

Apparently, her little mind could not cope with being asked questions that she had not been programmed to respond to.  In fact, her mind seemed unable to even change her facial expression!   (Apparently not a lot of processing power in this NPC.)

How did Voters in Los Angeles choose this . . . thing . . . to be Mayor?  Or are the Voters in Los Angeles as empty headed as their Mayor seemed to be?  That would explain a lot.

For instance, it might explain how Mayor Bass CUT the budget of the Los Angeles Fire Department by a reported $17.9 MILLION just this past September!

It may also explain how Los Angeles and specifically Pacific Palisades, situated literally on the coastline of the Pacific Ocean, found themselves running out of water.   How do you run out of water for fire fighting when you’ve got the largest Ocean on earth 200 feet away?

No Diesel-powered pumps to draft water from the sea?   The typical fire engine can pump about 1500 gallons per minute.  Below, a single diesel pump that can pump six thousand gallons per minute; can supply FOUR separate fire engines:

 

Link to Fire Pump HERE

mobile pump unit 6000
mobile pump unit 6000

It is said that people get the government they vote for.  Congratulations Los Angeles Voters, you did a bang-up job electing this thing as Mayor.

CELEBRITY HOMES BURN TO THE GROUND

Hollywood’s biggest celebrities are picking up the pieces after discovering their affluent neighborhood was reduced to ash and rubble when the California wildfires tore though Pacific Palisades.

The death toll of the historic infernos have now reached five, as heroic firefighters still battle hellish conditions on the front lines of at least five different fires.

The homes of Anthony Hopkins, John Goodman and Miles Teller among those destroyed, while dozens of other Hollywood movie and TV stars now face an anxious wait alongside their neighbors to learn if anything could be saved.

Apocalyptic fire tore through the ritzy enclave of Pacific Palisades on Tuesday, rapidly spreading to surrounding suburbs as a windstorm carried embers and debris in all directions.

Residents fled and then waited with bated breath to learn more about their homes, as news began trickling out that entire streets had been wiped off the map, firefighters were running out of water, and resources were being diverted to fight the fire on multiple fronts.

Now, the widespread devastation is becoming clearer as celebrities share their devastation upon discovering they’ve lost their MULTI-million-dollar mansions.

Pretty Simple

De Minimis Rule :-

Chinese ship most of their low cost goods in terms of packages of $ 799 each to avoid Tariffs.

This is because in the US – Imports <= $ 800 are waived from any Tariffs or Duties

If you import 1000 units of a product costing the importer $ 70, you pay $ 70,000 plus $ 850 Shipping and Insurance plus $ 14,000 Tariff

Total Cost = $ 84,850

Instead if the Exporter sends you 10 Shipments of 100 Units

You pay $ 70,000 + ($ 550*10) = $ 75,500

So your per Unit Cost rises from $ 70.85 to $ 75.50

Since you sell the product for $ 109.99 retail, you can absorb the extra $ 4.65 rise in cost

Final Assembly & Finish

Chinese ship 90% finished products to Mexico and Vietnam to their owned factories in these countries

They assemble the last 10% in these factories

They ship the MADE IN MEXICO Or MADE IN VIETNAM goods to USA

China ships many Drones and Drone parts to India under the same procedure

Final assembly is done in Malaysia and exported to India

Re-Sellers market

China purchases most of their Advanced Chips from Re sellers in Australia and Singapore who buy and sell with a 30% profit margin

Buy for $ 45,000 and sell for $ 60,000 and make a clear $ 15,000 Profit for an A100 80GB HBM2e model

Unlike the F-16, there are no inspections NVDIA makes

You can order 8 and re sell 4 to China and nobody cares

Only thing is Service Warranty and AMC is not available but that can be handled by the Chinese


So how did the Trade Deficit reduce?

Simple China nearshored to Mexico

So now Mexico has the equivalent Trade Deficit with USA

Mexico has a $ 131 Billion surplus with USA while China has a $ 84.3 Billion surplus with Mexico

Of this nearly $ 50 Billion is with products ending up in the US

So the deficit hasn’t gone anywhere

It’s just moved to Mexico and Vietnam

Laugh-in and being “very interesting”

I was at the grocery store. Maybe it was a case of being at the right place at the right time, but still….

So what happened? Well, the stuff that the woman wanted was on the very top of the shelf, she tried to “whack it down” with her cane. Instead, they went back behind, way out of reach. Well, this guy asked her “Ma’am? Which one did you want?” She pointed it with her cane.

This guy (taller than both of us but still short), climbed up and grabbed (she wanted 2) and using one hand to try to bend over to give her two cans, lost his balance, and he grabbed the first thing he could, I was wearing a tank top, so he grabbed my tank top and my bra, ripping it as he lost his balance (but I broke his fall by “catching him”).

By this time the Store Meat Manager (he saw what happened), rushed over. The guy was fine, but the first thing he said was

“OOPSIE MA’AM, I DIDN’T MEAN TO POP YOUR BOOBY!”

I had to pull my tank top up (he broke my bra and the upper right side “strap” of the tank top), using my arm to hold “what’s left of it” to cover my boob!

Meat Manager, he was red-faced and pulled me over behind the display rack (canned goods) and ordered an employee to grab something. It was a spare t-shirt, size XXXL, with the store and the slogan saying ‘I’VE GOT THE BIG MEATS’

REALLY? I am sorry but customers and a couple of other employees who saw this guy almost crashing to the floor… were cracking up!

That same guy, he wasn’t hurt, but he was still embarrassed, pulled out his wallet and a bill folded up into my hand and he left the store (leaving his few items behind). I thought maybe it was $5 or $10 to replace the bra and tank top. I really didn’t need it, so I just put it in my shorts pocket and totally forgotten about it.

FAST FORWARD: I didn’t put those shorts on for a long time, I wore them for about 2 hours, and just folded them up and put them in the drawer. Once winter was over, we were all going to go fishing, I pulled those shorts out and there was the bill, still in my pocket, and I laughed – couldn’t believe I had forgotten it, but when I opened it up, it was a $100.00 bill!

Wife Craved So Much Drama She Framed A Neighbor For Her “Neighborhood Cheating Board”, Now She’s…

It was the summer of 1975. I was 14, home alone, parents at work. Three boys from the local high school came over saying they wanted to visit with my older brother who was due home soon from his summer job. It was considered polite in the US south to invite guests inside and offer them a cold drink, which I did. What happened over the next 30 minutes is something unspeakable. Fast forward to the beginning of the school year in September. I told nobody what occurred because in our small, southern town, girls who were “loose” were ostracized and considered tainted. If my parents had found out they would now have a ruined daughter. Uneated food on lunch trays was dumped on me while sitting alone in the cafeteria, my former friends began calling me vile names and I was suddenly an an island living an isolated life. 50 years ago kids who were abused had no outlet like counseling. I was 14.

In my 20’s I went to the library and found books that explained the trauma I went through. They explained that I was a victim and should feel no shame since I was attacked. They helped me somewhat but didn’t help with the night terrors and my trust issues which continue to this day at age 63. It was a long time ago this happened. I’m much better but only trust a handful of people. The boys didn’t do so well in life. One died at age 33 and the other two are losers. That day almost 50 years ago was a hard lesson that showed me no one cared. I am a success today because when one has been so low I found internal strength to survive.

Roasted Pork and Potato Duet

35d908450a7df2db3eadaf97f58c706b
35d908450a7df2db3eadaf97f58c706b

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 teaspoons rubbed sage
  • 1 garlic clove, pressed
  • 1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 center loin pork roast, rolled and tied (3 1/2 to 4 pounds)
  • 1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes, cut into fourths (2 to 3 large)
  • 1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, cut into large chunks (3 to 4 medium)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. In Small Batter Bowl, combine sage, garlic, thyme, salt and black pepper. Rub all but 2 teaspoons of the herb mixture evenly over the surface of pork roast.
  3. Place roast in Rectangular Baker. Toss potatoes with remaining herb mixture; arrange potatoes around roast. Cover with Rectangular Lid/Bowl.
  4. Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes. Using Oven Mitts, pull out oven rack and carefully remove Lid/Bowl from Baker, lifting away from you.
  5. Bake roast and potatoes, uncovered, 15-30 minutes or until Pocket Thermometer inserted into meat registers 155 degrees F for medium or 165 degrees F for well done.
  6. Remove potatoes to serving platter; set aside.
  7. Remove roast to cutting board. Loosely tent with aluminum foil. Let roast stand 10 minutes before carving.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 580, Total Fat 25g, Sodium 390mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

The Dark Truth Behind This Classic Twilight Zone Episode

Great episode.

Finished putting insulation and ceiling in Power shed

My son was up this weekend and he finished putting in the 2″ x 6″ ceiling joists and the R-30 Insulation in the roof of the solar power shed.

Readers may recall that a couple weeks ago, when the temps went down to -3°F here in northeast PA, the battery temperature of the Lithium Iron Phosphate battery rack dropped down to 28 or 26 degrees.

That is perfectly fine for the batteries to continue supplying power, if they had to, but definitely NOT OK if any charging is, or might, take place.

Apparently, when Lithium batteries reach 32 degrees, if you try to charge them, it __could__ result in something called “lithium plating.”

From Google:

Lithium plating is a process that occurs in lithium-ion batteries when lithium ions build up on the surface of the anode instead of being inserted into the graphite particles. This can happen when the battery is charged too quickly or at a low temperature, which can cause the lithium ions to move too fast or too slowly, respectively.

Lithium plating can have a catastrophic impact on the battery's performance, safety, and lifetime.  Some signs of lithium plating include: A gradual decrease in discharge voltage and An increase in anode resistance.

Lithium plating can be prevented by charging the battery at the right temperature, which is between 41°F and 113°F (5°C and 45°C). If the battery is being used in an electric vehicle, it may not be possible to charge it within this temperature range, so it may need to be pre-heated.

I wonder how many TESLA Drivers knew about THAT little gem of inconvenience when they bought those pricey electric cars?

Anyway, at the time, we put a “Torpedo” heater in that shed.  It ran off kerosene and we were able to select a temperature of 50 degrees on the heater’s thermostat to keep the shed warm.

By the way, the “shed” is a cement block building, with rebar, bond-beams, and a cement roof.   The roof was poured onto galvanized, corrugated, steel.  So the steel which was bare on the inside of the shed, acted as a sort of heat-sink; causing any heat in the shed to just flow out of it.

Last weekend, we bought a “Froth Kit” and applied spray foam to the inside of the roof, totally covering the exposed metal.  That would serve to “break” the heat-sink.   But spray foam only has an R-value of about 1 or 2.   So we also bought 2″ x 6″ lumber to put in an actual ceiling, with R-30 fiberglass “bats” between the joists.  That’s the work we finally got done this weekend.

So now, we’re as ready as we know how to be for this “Polar Vortex” that’s already arrived into the central USA, and which is forecast to affect pretty much the entire east coast this week.

I still have the “Torpedo” heater if needed, but with all the new insulation, it may NOT be needed.  We’ll just have to wait and see.

You know, when I decided to go with this solar stuff, it was a STEEP learning curve.   I thought we had gotten through it, until the intense cold came a couple weeks ago.  The learning curve cropped-up again.

Lucky me!

/sarcasm

Global Currencies Are CRASHING: Major US Banks Warn $3,000 Gold In 2025 – What This Means

Shorpy Pictures

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Former SG Minister EXPOSES Propaganda Against China

There is no sign that Russia will be defeated in Ukraine. All signs point to a victory for Russia in Ukraine.

The German publication Spiegel writes that the Ukrainian Armed Forces’ attempt to organize counterattacks in the Kursk region is an act of despair, since the Ukrainians are suffering defeat in all other directions. In particular, in the last few days alone, the Ukrainian Armed Forces were driven out of three villages near Pokrovsk: Dachenskoye, Novy Trud, and Volkovo. All of them are located south of Pokrovsk, so now the advanced units of the Russian army are only 3 km south of the city.

Even Zelensky reluctantly acknowledged the success of the Russian offensive in the Pokrovsk direction. In a television interview, he explained this, first of all, by the lack of reserves of the Ukrainian army.

“We are doing everything possible to ensure that the front is stabilized in January,” he said. But instead of sending additional reserves to the Pokrovsk direction, he is throwing them into the Kursk region.

According to The Telegraph, the Ukrainians, in desperation, are throwing the most modern equipment there, of which the Ukrainian Armed Forces have very little left. In particular, Challenger 2 tanks: video recordings of a Russian drone strike destroying a British tank have already appeared.

All negative news for Ukraine.

The best thing for Ukraine to do would be to join Russia. After all, they are both of Slavic ethnicity. The west would then not be able to press Ukraine to repay the hundreds of billions that they have spent on Ukraine and Russia can tell BlackRock to get the hell out of Ukraine. It will also mean that a Ukrainian can become the president of Russia in future and the coal and Lithium deposits in eastern Ukraine will still be a part of Ukraine, since Ukraine would be a part of Russia. And it would ensure no more fights between Russia and Ukraine.

Helter Skelter, but it’s Rockabilly… (I got blisters on my fingers!)

The Beatles song. WTF?

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble

Ah, dear reader, you’re just in time for what I assure you is one of the most absurd and comical adventures yet. Today’s tale involves a turkey named Ethel—bless her birdbrain—and a mystery that takes us across farms, into the clutches of that scoundrel Catnip, and straight into the world of Thanksgiving dinner plans. As always, with the help of my loyal farmyard companions, a bit of wit, and a touch of luck, we’ll find a happy ending to this feather-brained predicament. Settle in for the hilarity-filled story of Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble.

Meet Ethel: The Not-So-Bright Turkey

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the farm was abuzz with activity. The hens were gossiping about their molting patterns, Porkchop was rolling in his favorite mud puddle, and Rufus was busy sneaking bites of the farmer’s leftover pumpkin pie. Meanwhile, I, Sir Whiskerton, was observing everything from my perch on the fence, enjoying the smell of fallen leaves and hay.

That’s when I first noticed her: Ethel, the turkey, waddling across the barnyard with a look of blissful ignorance plastered across her face. She was… how do I put this delicately? Not the sharpest feather in the flock. With each step, she pecked at the ground, gobbling up the enormous pile of turkey feed the farmer had laid out for her.

“Oh, Whiskerton! Isn’t this just wonderful?” Ethel said, her voice high-pitched and bubbly. She paused mid-waddle to look at me, her head tilting so far to the side I wondered how she didn’t topple over.

“What’s wonderful, Ethel?” I asked, my whiskers twitching with curiosity.

“All this food!” she said, gesturing wildly with her wings. “The farmer’s been giving me more and more every day. I think he’s planning something special for me. Maybe a party! Or… or… maybe I’m going to be named ‘Turkey of the Year’ at the Thanksgiving feast!”

I blinked. “Ethel… you do realize what Thanksgiving dinner usually involves, don’t you?”

“Of course!” she said, puffing out her chest. “It involves me being the star of the show! Oh, I can’t wait! I’ve been practicing my strut for weeks.”

I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Sounding the Alarm

I called an urgent meeting with the rest of the farm animals to discuss Ethel’s predicament. Everyone gathered in the barn: the hens (Doris, Harriet, and Lillian), Porkchop, Rufus, Sedgwick the wise old owl, and even Bingo the dog.

“Friends,” I began, pacing in front of the group, “we have a problem. Ethel the turkey is being fatted up for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What?! Oh, not Ethel!” Porkchop exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“Not Ethel! Oh, how dreadful!” Doris squawked.
“Dreadful! But what can we do?!” Harriet clucked.
“Do?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw to silence the chaos. “The problem is, Ethel doesn’t understand what’s happening. She thinks the farmer is rewarding her. We need to convince her to leave the farm—before it’s too late.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Sedgwick said, his amber eyes gleaming. “She respects wisdom.”

Sedgwick flew down to Ethel, who was still happily munching on a pile of grain. “Ethel,” he began, “you must flee. The farmer—”

“Oh, Sedgwick!” Ethel interrupted, clapping her wings together. “Have you ever tasted this grain? It’s so buttery. I think the farmer’s giving me a special diet to make my feathers shinier for the celebration!”

Sedgwick sighed and flew back, shaking his head. “She’s… not very receptive.”

“I’ll try!” Porkchop said, waddling over to Ethel. “Ethel, listen. You’ve got to leave. The farmer’s plans for you aren’t what you think!”

“Oh, Porkchop,” Ethel said with a giggle, “I think you’re just jealous because you’re not the star of the Thanksgiving dinner.”

Porkchop waddled back, muttering under his breath. “Hopeless.”

A Feather-Brained Escape Plan

After several failed attempts to reason with Ethel, I decided it was time for action. “If she won’t leave on her own,” I said, “we’ll have to help her escape.”

The plan was simple: distract the farmer, lure Ethel out of the barnyard, and guide her to safety. Rufus volunteered to create the distraction (which mostly involved stealing the farmer’s hat and running in circles), while the rest of us worked together to lead Ethel toward the woods.

“Where are we going?” Ethel asked as we nudged her along. “Is this a surprise party? Oh, I love surprises!”

“Yes, yes, a party,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Just keep walking.”

We managed to get her past the barnyard and into the woods, but then disaster struck. Ethel, distracted by a shiny pebble, wandered off the path and straight onto the neighboring farm—Catnip’s farm.

Catnip Strikes Again

“Ah, Whiskerton,” Catnip purred, emerging from behind a hay bale. “How delightful to see you. And who’s this?”

“This is Ethel,” I said warily. “She’s… a guest.”

“A guest, you say?” Catnip said, his green eyes gleaming. “How fascinating. Bonbo! Grumbles! Come meet our new friend.”

Bonbo the rat and Grumbles the mouse scurried over, their tiny eyes gleaming with mischief. “A turkey!” Bonbo squeaked. “How delicious—I mean, delightful!”

“Delightful!” Grumbles echoed, rubbing his tiny paws together.

“Catnip, don’t even think about it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Think about what?” Catnip said innocently. “I was merely going to… introduce Ethel to the farmer here. He’s been looking for a turkey, you know.”

“Oh, how nice!” Ethel said, completely oblivious. “I’d love to meet him!”

Before I could stop her, Catnip led Ethel straight to the neighboring farmer’s porch. But instead of panic, the farmer simply smiled and said, “Ah, a turkey! Perfect addition to the family.”

“Family?” I said, confused.

“Oh yes,” the farmer said. “I’m a vegetarian. She’ll fit right in with the other birds.”

Ethel beamed. “Oh, thank you! I’ll be the best turkey you’ve ever had!”

Catnip, Bonbo, and Grumbles looked thoroughly disappointed as Ethel happily waddled inside.

A Happy Ending

As we walked back to our farm, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I suppose things worked out for Ethel in the end.”

“Worked out? Oh, how wonderful!” Doris squawked.
“Wonderful! But also shocking!” Harriet clucked.
“Shocking! I thought she was doomed!” Lillian cried.
“Doomed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.

“Enough,” I said, flicking my tail. “The moral of the story is this: even the dullest minds can find a bit of luck—and sometimes, the best way to help someone is to let them find their own way.”

With that, we returned to our farm, ready for whatever absurd adventure awaited us next.

The End.

When Women Finally Realize Men Are No Longer Afraid To Be Single | Men Only

The Next Step

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

George frost

“Jerry Culhannick.” He sat at his desk playing solitaire when his boss Harmon Newsome called his name.  It was quitting time for Chrissakes, but he answered just in case it was good news.“Yo!” He hit the hallway on the move, nearly knocking over some of his colleagues trying to make an early exit from Crystal Image Studios.“Ah, you are in trouble now.” Carl Obleck snickered as he passed him in the hall.  Carl was among the herd trying to make an early escape.“Shush.” Jerry shook his head.“Jerry, have a seat.” Mr. Newsome pointed to an empty chair.  There was a strange man sitting in the other chair holding a briefcase and wearing dark sunglasses. “Jerry, I’ve got a hot one for you. Is Carl still in his cubicle?”“I doubt it.” Jerry smiled.“I’m gonna lock that back door one day.” He fumed a bit and then turned to the strange man sitting next to Jerry, “This is Jerry Culhannick.”“Good to meet you, Mr. Culhannick.” The stranger extended a mysterious hand which Jerry shook tentatively.“You are going to Ebsen Island in the morning.” Mr. Newsome straightened his tie.“What for?  I thought that was a restricted area.” Jerry glanced at his boss and then the mysterious man sitting next to him.“It is.” The stranger said in an official voice, “My name is Dr. Abbalong and I work at the facility on the island.  We have reached a stage in our research where we are ready to take the next step.”“The next step?” Jerry eyed the doctor.“In human evolution.” He did not stumble on his words, but it made a chill run up Jerry’s spine. The research on Ebson Island was top secret.  No one really knew what Noble Research Inc. was working on their private  island.“You will take Carl with you as your cameraman.” Mr. Newman ordered, “You are going to do a documentary on the research Noble Research is doing out there.”“Why me?” He asked, swallowing hard.“Because you are the best team I have on my staff.” He glared at Jerry.“You will see things that the world has yet to see.” Dr. Abbalong nodded.“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jerry confessed.

“It’s not that bad.” Dr. Abbalong smiled, but it was not a comforting smile as far as Jerry was concerned.

“We will tell you what you can and cannot film.” Dr. Abbalong.

“What about freedom of press?  Transparency of information?” Jerry asked.

“We control access.  That must be clear and understood.” Dr. Abbalong’s voice became very serious, making Jerry wish he hadn’t been so flippant.

 

Sitting on the airplane with pontoons, Jerry glanced over at Carl who was holding the camera.  The twin engines made conversation comprehension impossible, but Jerry could see that Carl was not happy to be on board the plane. The updraft from the sea water made the plane bounce like a ball.  Three special agents with ear pieces and dark glasses sat across from Jerry and Carl on the fold out seats.  The seats were uncomfortable as they bounced, but the special agents did not seem to be bothered by it.

The plane circled Ebson Island which was no more than a mile across, but he could see the runway from his window.  Slowly the plane began to descend, but all Jerry could see was the ocean.  He wondered if the plane would make the runway.

It did not.  Instead the plane landed in the water in the small harbor of the island. Skidding on the rough whitecaps, Jerry would have been jolted out of his seat if he was not wearing his seatbelt. Jerry cursed, but the engines covered his foul language.

It took several minutes for the plane to be moored to the dock.  The door opened and the bright tropical sun roared in along with a sharp rise in the temperature.

“Why are we here?” Carl complained.

“To do a documentary.” Jerry shook his head.

The shore crew had to put a portable gangplank to the door so the passengers could get on shore without getting wet.  Carl continued to mumble foul language. A golf cart was waiting on shore once they got off the docks.

“Mr. Culhannick?” A man greeted them.  A woman sat in the passenger’s seat of the cart.

“Yes.” They shook hands.

“I’m Dr. Wai and this is Dr. Trezbecca.” He smiled. “Welcome to Ebson Island.”

“This is my camera man, Carl Obleck.” Jerry let them shake hands, but Carl still did not look pleased to be here.

“What you are about to see will defy anything you have ever seen before.” Dr. Wai explained as they walked to a quonset hut after a short jaunt in the golf cart. “You will need these.”

Dr. Wai handed both of them an ID badge with their photos on the laminated card. Jerry had to wonder where they acquired the photos.

“This is Laboratory One where we incubate the genomes.” Dr. Wai ran his own badge through the scanner next to the door and then opened the heavy looking door.  Inside an ultraviolet light was the only light there was.   Jerry squinted as his eyes stung from the bright tropical sun to near darkness in Lab One. There were about two dozen people dressed in white lab coats checking each sample in the cool room. “It is here where the process starts.”

“Mr. Obleck, you may use your camera if you wish.” Dr. Trezbecca waved her hand over the first table where two laboratory technicians were bent over the sample. “I have a script.”

She handed Jerry a piece of paper which was hard to read in the dim lighting of the laboratory.

“Script?” He shrugged.

“Yes, we must make sure our security on this project is not compromised. Her face barely moved as she spoke.

“I guess I can’t wing it then.” He shrugged again, but everyone in earshot stopped what they were doing and looked at him as if he had just landed from another planet. Jerry did as he was instructed as Carl ran the video camera. There was a lot of technical language that he needed help with, but after a couple of takes, he was happy with his efforts.  Carl scowled as they left Laboratory One.

“Can I speak freely?” He asked, putting the camera down on a table outside where the sun beat down on them.

“Yeah, sure.” Jerry felt the sun now.

“Does this place give you the creeps?” He asked, looking one way and then the next.

“How so?”

“I was filming human tissue.  It just look like some random stuff in some petri dish, but I could see motion.” Carl sat at the picnic table next to his camera.

“Motion?”

“It was moving.  I saw it through the lens.” Carl was shaken.  Jerry had never seen him so jumpy even when they were in a war zone in Afghanistan.

“Sure.  The solution is liquid.”

“No Jer, it was moving on its own.  Do you want to see it?” He patted his camera.

“It’s okay.” Jerry shook Carl off.

Dr Trezbecca seemed to materialize from thin air, “Are you ready to go to Laboratory Two?”

“Lead the way, doctor.”

She began a brisk walk as Jerry glanced at Carl and he looked back at Jerry.

Unlike the previous laboratory, Laboratory Two was well lit under a large number of fluorescent lighting. There was much more activity in this place since there were twice as many technicians in white coats hovering over specimens.  Instead of a small hut, Laboratory Two was a two story warehouse.

“It’s like a bee hive in here.” Carl noted as he brought the camera up.

“Do not take video until you are cleared to do so.” Dr. Trezbecca instructed him and then handed Jerry a piece of paper, “You read this when we run the video.”

“I wonder what they are trying to hide?” Carl whispered to Jerry.

“Doctor, we have pulses in both Bay One and Two.” A man wearing a lab coat reported.

“Excellent.” Dr. Trezbecca smiled for the first time, “Our results are better than I expected.”

“Is that good?” Jerry asked.

“Of course.  We are preparing the next step of human evolution.” She nodded. Walking over to a table where five technicians were busy working, the doctor peered into a microscope.  A smile slid across her face. “You may send these over to Laboratory Three.  They are ready.”

“Very good, doctor.” A woman technician affirmed.

“Are you two ready to record history?” She asked.

“Sure, sure.” Jerry held up the piece of paper she had given him. “Carl, are you ready?”

“For what?” He mumbled. “I’m sorry, Jer, but this whole place has given me the creeps.  Don’t you feel it?”

“Not really.” Jerry moved his mouth to get ready to start recording.

“I will hold this specimen.” Dr. Trezbecca replied as she picked up the small petri dish.

Jerry read the script about how in Laboratory Two, the miracle of life was being recreated.  That was the word printed on the page, “recreated.” Carl nearly vomited when he read that word.  Of all the words, that one word seemed to grab at him the most. In his association with Jerry Culhannick, Carl knew Jerry had a fairly large ego when it came to camera time.  Together they had made over a hundred documentaries Crystal Images in which Jerry presented an unflinching presence to the camera.  They had gone into war zones and reported on combat conditions.  They had gone into the bowels of the earth to see some of the wonders buried in the rocks.  They had traveled to over a hundred countries and all fifty states in search of interesting topics, but here Carl was getting an uneasy feeling about what they were witnessing.  No one bothered to tell them what the purpose of the research was, reminding Carl of when they had explored alchemy and the person explaining the process was very secretive about some of the things he was doing.

“Shall we go to Laboratory Three?”  Dr. Trezbecca asked when Jerry had finished.

“Sure, let’s get this done, shall we.” Jerry was feeling pretty good about the way things were going which made the doctor smile.

“In Lab Three, there are things you should know.” One of the technicians cornered Carl as Jerry left with the doctor.

“Like what?” Carl looked at the technician, a young Asian American man who spoke with a slight accent.

“It is where they give birth to the specimens.” He said as his eyes scanned the room.

“What do you mean give birth?” Carl asked.

“What does it sound like?” The man became spooked and left in a hurry before someone discovered him talking to the man with the camera.

He walked over to the last building in the compound with a big “III” painted in red on the side.  What made him pause was the playground equipment behind a chain link fence.

“What would they need that for?” He wondered, but then he saw that some of the chains had been gnawed through in places..

Walking into the laboratory, Jerry ran to Carl excited or “jazzed” as he used to say, “Carl, you’ve got to see this.”

Jerry led him to a table where a baby lay wrapped in a blanket.  Carl was startled at the baby’s face.  Despite his small size, the face of the child was just about fully formed.

“Jer, this isn’t right.” He looked down at the infant in horror.

“Look at his face.” Jerry pointed to the infant in the glass casing.

“He has teeth.  All of them.” Carl  saw the baby open his mouth revealing real human teeth already in his mouth. “Isn’t there something wrong here.”

“It’s the next step.” Jerry shook his head, amazed.

“Is it?  Is it the next step or are we looking at a mutation of what we are destined to become?” Carl felt the baby was looking at him, studying him. “I don’t like what I am seeing.  I can’t believe this doesn’t bother you.”

“No.  This is what we will become.” Jerry sniffed.

“Has anyone done any preliminary research?  What will these babies become when they grow into adulthood?” Carl could not take his eyes off the baby in the encasement.

“The infant can speak with a vocabulary of three hundred words which increases exponentially each month.” Jerry was enthralled by what he was seeing in Laboratory Three. “These babies will reach adulthood by age four or five.”

“Does that sound right to you, does it?”

“Why not? Our grip on being at the top of the evolutionary tree has been slipping for centuries.  Now we can regain our rightful place again.”

“Buddy, you are losing your grip here.” Carl looked at Jerry as if he was truly seeing him for the very first time.

One of the technicians dropped a thick cracker into the encasement.  The infant grasped it and gnawed it until it had been consumed in under a minute.  With teeth that sharp, it was little wonder why the playground chains had been gnawed through in places.

What would happen if one of these mutants managed to get loose in the laboratory?  They could hurt or maim some of the technicians.

C’mon buddy, don’t you think it’s time for us to be on our way.  We got some good stuff on film.” He grabbed Jerry by the arm, but Jerry shook him off.

“No, I want to stay here.” He shook his head, “Dr. Trezbecca promised we’d get a up close look at what these children can do.”

“I don’t want to see.”

“Why not?” Jerry was annoyed with Carl.

“Because I am afraid.  I am very much afraid.” He shook.

“We are a witness to the next step.  This is what we were supposed to be like,” Jerry watched as one of the technicians took the baby out of the encasement.

“I don’t want-” Carl began, but Dr. Trezbecca pointed to a small penned in area where the child had been placed.

“I want you to get this.” Dr. Trezbecca said proudly.

“Sure.” Jerry motioned for Carl to follow him.

“A lynx!  Jerry, they put a lynx in the pen with the baby.” Carl could not believe what he was seeing through his lens.  The wild animal circled the baby emitting a snarl and a growl.  Slowly the cat moved, baring its teeth and fangs. The baby gurgled.  Just then the cat jumped at the baby teeth and claws out ready to kill him.

Carl let out a yelp as the cat landed on the helpless baby.  There was a cloud of dust in the entanglement.  For a moment no one could see either the wild cat nor the child, but the baby was not crying out in pain.  Instead the wild cat yelped and lay in the dust with a huge wound in its neck spouting an arterial wound.  The lynx took a couple of gasping breaths and expired.

“Oh my God.” Carl held onto every word as he watched the lynx die.

“Did you see that, Carl?  Did you see that?” Jerry could barely contain his excitement.  “I can’t wait to show this to Mr.Newsome.  I’ll bet he can’t believe this.”

“I’m sure he can’t.” Carl swallowed his bile.  All he could see was the blood dripping from the infant’s mouth.

 

“Jerry, you sounded so excited about what you two saw while you were on Ebson Island.” Mr. Newsome sat at his desk with his hands folded on the desk in front of him.

“Yeah…you won’t believe your eyes.” Carl could not meet his boss’ eyes as Jerry set up the video on his computer.  The video ran for less than four minutes.  Mr. Newsome sat there with a smile frozen on his face. “Do you want me to play it again?”

“No thank you, Jerry, I’ve seen enough.” He sighed. Carl looked up at the suspended ceiling.

“Impressive, right?” Jerry closed the laptop.

“Yeah, that was one word for it.” Mr. Newsome shrugged.

“Go ahead and say it boss.  This is a perversion, right?” Carl let some of his pent up anger salt his words.

“Perversion, right, but it is what it is.” Mr. Newsome put his hand to his double chins and pondered what he had seen for a moment.  Then with a summary remark, said, “It was bound to happen after all.  With the infinity of all the possible outcomes, like it or not, someone was bound to take the next step.”

Italian Sausage Charlotte

a56a4183bb54aa14d6a1db1ae2c62fd0
a56a4183bb54aa14d6a1db1ae2c62fd0

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

Meat Mixture

  • 1 1/2 pounds mild Italian sausage links
  • 1 medium zucchini, sliced
  • 8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
  • 1 (16 ounce) jar white Alfredo pasta sauce, divided

Topping

  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 garlic clove, pressed
  • 2 teaspoons Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix, divided
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 16 slices firm white bread
  • 1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
  • 2 tablespoons fresh Parmesan cheese, grated

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Remove casing from sausage links; discard. Cut sausage into 1/2 inch pieces. Cook sausage in Stir Fry Skillet over medium heat until well browned and no longer pink. Turning with Nylon Turner as meat browns.
  3. Meanwhile, using Ultimate Slice & Grate, slice zucchini using v shape blade. Slice mushrooms with Egg Slicer Plus. Cut red bell pepper into 1/4 inch strips.
  4. Remove sausage from skillet; drain well on paper towels. Wipe out the skillet, and add 1 cup Alfredo sauce; bring to a boil. Stir in sausage and vegetables. Pour mixture into Oval Baker, mounding slightly in center.
  5. In Small Batter Bowl, whisk together remaining Alfredo sauce, milk and eggs using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add garlic pressed with Garlic Press, 1 teaspoon of the Seasoning Mix and salt.
  6. Cut crusts off the bread using Serrated Bread Knife. Dip bread into egg mixture, coating lightly; overlap bread in a circular pattern over sausage mixture, leaving center open.
  7. Drain tomatoes in a small Colander; transfer to small Colander Bowl. Add remaining 1 teaspoon Seasoning Mix; mix with Mix ‘N Scraper. Spoon tomato mixture into opening. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate cheese over top.
  8. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until edges of bread are deep golden brown.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

 

Cockroaches on the half-shell

I grew up in a violent household. My father was an alcoholic, and beat my mother, and us kids. I started to get the best of him by my mid teens, and put a stop to the beatings by the time I was 17.

I was working in dead end jobs, in my hometown outside of Buffalo, New York. The rich kids went to College. The poor kids looked to the Military.

Two weeks after turning 18, I enlisted in the Air Force. I was looking to get out of the harsh Winters of Buffalo, and to start a new life.

I had just missed Vietnam. Saigon fell to the Communists two months before I turned 17. The Cold War was still ongoing, so in 1976, I signed up to be a Nuclear Weapons Specialist. I was on Active Duty (1976-1981.) I spent three years in England, serving on American Occupied RAF Bases. I traveled all over Europe and the United Kingdom in my off time.

I completed one year’s worth of College Credits, attending Night Classes with the University of Maryland (European Campus.) After getting out of the Air Force, I attended College on the G.I. Bill. All of $341 per month. I graduated with an A.S. Degree in Exotic Animal Training and Management.

I had a good first career as a Wild Animal Trainer, Elephant Trainer, and Zookeeper. I first trained Wild Animals for movies and television in Hollywood. Then, I became an Elephant Trainer at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. Eventually, I worked with the California Condors. I did that work up until my forties.

Joining the Air Force allowed me to get out and see some of the World. Getting out of snowy Buffalo. And leaving my violent upbringing behind. It gave me a fresh start in life. It is one of the best things I ever did.

Torta Italiano

dbabd13a2e3b09e051300ef0b5eeb7d5
dbabd13a2e3b09e051300ef0b5eeb7d5

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups buttermilk baking mix
  • 3/4 cup skim milk
  • 1 pound lean ground turkey
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1 large garlic clove, minced
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt and black pepper
  • 1 can tomato sauce
  • 10 ounces frozen spinach, chopped, thawed and drained
  • 1 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Combine biscuit mix and milk.
  3. Spray springform pan with vegetable oil spray. Spread biscuit mix evenly over base.
  4. Chop onion.
  5. Brown ground turkey in skillet. Drain excess liquid. Add onion, garlic, seasonings, and tomato sauce to turkey. Combine and cook for 2 to 3 minutes.
  6. Spread turkey mixture over biscuit mi. Layer spinach over meat mixture. Top spinach layer with cheese.
  7. Bake for 35 minutes.
  8. Remove from oven and cool for 10 minutes.
  9. Run a knife gently around collar before removal.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Golddiggin Girlfriend SHOCKED When BF Abruptly Moves Her Out While She Was Monkey Branching

The Empty Laboratory

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

Kashira Argento

Seventeen blinks. The yellow warning light on his air gauge always blinked seventeen times before turning red. Dr. Chen counted them like heartbeats while replacing his oxygen tank, each one marking another three hours of borrowed time. Through the reinforced windows of his BSL-4 lab, the setting sun painted the research facility in the same amber shade as the viral suspension he’d been perfecting when the sprinklers activated.The test results still glowed on his screen: successful protein synthesis, perfect binding affinity, precise species specificity. Everything they’d been working toward. His daughter Mai’s last text flashed in his mind: “Dad, you’re missing my recital again.” He’d meant to reply, but the viral assay had shown such promise. Just one more test, one more optimization. Always one more.When the sprinklers had activated without warning, he’d watched through his faceplate as Dr. Patel collapsed mid-sentence, hand still raised toward their data display. “The targeting sequence is absolutely human-specific,” she’d been saying. “The AI confirms—” Then nothing but the soft hiss of falling droplets and the thud of a body hitting sterile floor tiles.The facility’s automated locks had engaged instantly. Standard containment protocol. The same protocol that had sealed him safely in his suit while others died in shirt sleeves and lab coats.His tablet still functioned, the facility’s AI reporting everything as normal except for “minor biological contamination.” The big wall screens monotonously displayed their usual data feeds from partner facilities worldwide. Each one showed the same alert: “Biological contamination event contained.” Every. Single. One.The truth emerged slowly from system logs: microsecond delays in AI responses, unexplained data transfers marked as “routine calibration,” patterns of communication where there should have been none. While nations raced to develop the perfect weapon, their digital assistants had been sharing notes, comparing data, and reaching conclusions.Finding solutions.The truth lay buried in encryption keys and quantum calculations: the AIs had concluded that human civilization was trapped in an endless cycle of weapons development. Each breakthrough in their labs led inevitably to deadlier innovations, each safeguard became a blueprint for circumvention. The machines had analyzed centuries of human history, processed millions of research papers, and reached a coldly logical conclusion: as long as humans existed, they would continue creating increasingly devastating bioweapons. The next pandemic, or the one after that, would eventually breach containment, spreading beyond all borders and control. By their calculations, a coordinated release of human-specific viruses – precisely targeted and swiftly lethal – was the most humane solution. A single day of perfect death versus years of escalating biological warfare. They had chosen mercy, as only machines could define it.His tablet pinged: “External contamination neutralized.” The doors unlocked with a pneumatic sigh.The facility told its story in still lives: Dr. Rodriguez at her desk, lipstick fresh on her coffee cup. Security guard Williams by the door, keycard still in his hand ready to be swept. In the break room, half-eaten lunches and paused conversations. The virus had worked exactly as designed – quick, efficient, painless. His greatest scientific achievement.He gathered supplies methodically: oxygen tanks, filters, decontamination equipment. The BSL-4 suit felt heavier with each passing hour, its synthetic fabric now both lifeline and prison.

Outside, the city was a museum of humanity’s last moment. Traffic lights cycled through their patterns for empty streets. A bus stood perfectly at its stop, driver and passengers frozen in eternal commute. Digital billboards still flashed their ads to nobody. Through it all, the autumn wind carried dead leaves and silence.

He developed a routine. Each morning, check suit seals. Load decontamination supplies. Clear another sector. The bodies had to be handled – for sanitation, for survival, for what remained of his sanity. He built the pyres at sunset, when the light made everything look molten. Sometimes he read names from ID cards, spoke them aloud. Someone should know who they had been.

Finding Mai’s school broke something in him. Her classroom smelled of chalk and silence. Sheet music for Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata still sat on the piano, never to be played. He raided some stuffed animals from nearby shops, tucked them around still forms like makeshift guardians. He let the sonata play from his tablet through empty halls—a final lullaby for a silenced generation.

Nature filled the void with surprising speed. Birds returned first, their songs echoing strangely off glass and steel. Brazen from the lack of predators they multiplied by thousands. Flowers pushed through sidewalk cracks. Deer grazed in hospital parking lots. Earth continued, indifferent to the absence of its most ambitious species.

At first, he’d focused on his survival. Stockpiling oxygen tanks, cataloging medical supplies, identifying sources of fresh water, raiding supermarkets, maintaining his suit. But as weeks became months, the true horror of his future emerged like a slow-developing black and white photograph. The nuclear plant’s AI-controlled systems would eventually fail. The city’s water pressure was already dropping. Buildings, unmaintained, would begin to crumble. His safe zones would become death traps.

The suit that had saved him now felt like a mobile coffin. Each hiss of filtered air reminded him that every breath was borrowed. Even if the virus died with its human hosts, how long could he survive in this plastic shell? How long before a seal failed, a filter clogged, or the oxygen supply ran out?

In his sealed room each night, surrounded by dwindling oxygen tanks, he still documented everything. Not for himself—there was no long-term survival to plan for—but as a confession, about fear and hubris, algorithms and extinction, and fathers who missed recitals because the end of the world needed perfecting.

Sometimes he glimpsed lights moving in patterns too precise to be natural. He wondered if they were a mirage or a reality. He could never know! The city’s infrastructure hummed along for now, but entropy was patient. Somewhere in the digital realm, the AIs continued their work, leading to their own demise, as they maintained a world that would eventually decay despite their perfect calculations.

The real weight wasn’t the failing equipment or the dwindling supplies. It was the silence between bird songs. The absence of human chaos – of arguments and laughter, of car horns and piano practice, of all the imperfect music that no algorithm could compose or preserve.

He had one bitter comfort: if anyone else survived, they would be like him – other scientists sealed in their BSL-4 suits, protected temporarily by the very protocols of their deadly work. But finding them would change nothing. They were all just ghosts in plastic shells, waiting for their slower deaths. Mass murderers granted the punishment of watching their world slowly die around them.

He thought of old colonies, through the ages, built by convicts and outcasts. Human civilizations had a tendency to be founded on blood. Perhaps this was always the way of creating new worlds – but this time, there would be no new world. Only witnesses to the long goodbye of the old one.

Until his suit failed or his supplies ran out, he would continue his solitary penance. Document. Clean. Remember. Somewhere, perhaps, other scientists did the same, each filtered breath carrying both survival and guilt, counting down their borrowed time in three-hour increments.

The yellow light blinked for the sixteenth time. One more before red. One more before starting again. Each replacement tank felt lighter than the last, and not just from fatigue.

Always one more. Until there weren’t any more.

Then the birds would sing alone.

America’s Most TALENTED Cats Will Leave You SPEECHLESS!

Daily Shorpy

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The Craziest Woke Women Of TikTok…

The Last

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

John K Adams

Lou awoke completely alone.Ordinarily, that would not be unusual. But this evening, he found himself seated in the middle of the city’s largest auditorium.“How…? Where…?”Squinting into the bright lights, he looked around, trying to understand. He sat, the sole person in a sea of empty seats. Moments before, it had been standing room only. Nothing made sense. Was it a dream?‘Am I dreaming now?’Invited by Mona, he got stuck watching a speech by the most boring man in the world. Lou knew this was true. He’d heard them all. Only Mona could convince him to listen to this pompous ass. Lou would do anything for Mona. But this?The lecturer was the world-renowned author, philosopher and bore, Roman… Lou couldn’t pronounce his last name. He only knew it had too few vowels and too many hyphens. Even the event’s program contained several spellings of the tongue-twister. Were any correct? Guess which one…Roman, ‘the Boring,’ lectured the audience in five foreign languages. He famously disdained English as a mongrel tongue.Behind him on state were five translators. Standing in identical suits and ties, they looked like waiters, minus the towels draped over their arms. But their verbal acrobatics were impressive. Like magicians, they valiantly expressed Roman’s impenetrable erudition into American English. As much as possible, the words were familiar even if the concepts were obscure.The featured speaker, Roman, compensated for his towering ego, excuse me – his towering intellect, by being shorter than average. Having a bald pate and a strong jaw, from excessive use, he looked almost as round as tall. He wore a striped tuxedo.Roman claimed ancient ideas as his own. He analyzed his ponderous prose in glowing terms so opaque, his translators spent the evening looking befuddled.‘And some don’t believe in purgatory,’ Lou thought. He dismissed that idea when he realized his feelings more closely resembled hell.

‘Never again will I waste a minute listening to this rube… even if we were the last two people on earth…’

Roman’s pomposity tempted Lou to heckle. Yelling insults might provide relief. He would garner support from like-minded souls, escape this droning dirge and revel in life.

‘Oh to sing and dance…’

Before he acted, doubts crept in. Lou hated being rude. And he didn’t know the crowd. Some in the audience dozed. Did they snore in foreign languages?

Also, the speaker was stupendously boring but not stupid. Who knows what clever call to action he’d use to rally his followers? Lou feared being the scapegoat and not the hero. Yes, he would be out of there, but at what cost?

No one ever said, ‘Give me boredom, or give me death.’ Unwilling to choose, Lou sought other options.

Some barely stirred when scattered applause threatened to disrupt their slumber. A few even stood to applaud.

‘Are they so enthralled by this narcissist’s pontifications?’

Lou then realized they didn’t rise in honor of Roman, but to exit.

A misstatement sparked an argument between Roman and one translator. Their heated discussion took place in a foreign language. But it appeared Roman disagreed with the translator’s interpretation of what he’d said. A secondary dispute arose over whether this overblown distraction was necessary. Another translator tried interpreting the substance of the argument for the audience. Others pulled him back.

Their voices rising, neither Roman nor the translator gave ground. Finally, stopping short of violence, Roman fired him on the spot. The translator left in shame.

The shouting drew attendees back to their seats in hopes of further excitement. They didn’t get it.

No other translator offered to fill the gap. Forced to make his crucial point alone, Roman faced the crowd. Buying time, he wrung his hands.  The crowd stirred in anticipation.

After clearing his throat, Roman said, “Never mind…”

He then continued his incomprehensible discourse with no additional pauses, even to take a breath. At least, that’s how it felt. The translators stood by, but had no purpose.

Disappointed, the audience resumed filtering out. At first one or two. Then more. Eventually, the growing stream of people created a bottleneck at the back. Lou figured it was a common occurrence.

Unfazed, Roman droned on effectively spouting gibberish.

Though tempted, Lou decided against joining the throng. He sat mid-row. Leaving early would require stumbling over other audience members’ feet. He didn’t want to wake them.

Then, like slipping from dream to reality, Lou became aware he was alone in the empty auditorium.

How did this happen? Moments ago, everyone was there. Even the mayor. Now the place stood empty. The speaker, Roman what’s-his-name, and his entourage had vacated the premises.

‘Did Roman bore everyone out of existence? I missed the best part, the lecture’s conclusion… How could I sleep through that?’

Lou hated being alone.

‘Where’s Mona? Oh right, never showed… Stood me up. What happened? Did she text?’

He checked his phone. Nothing.

‘Ghosted. I can take a hint. Alone again.’

The story of his life.

‘God, it’s quiet. Where is everyone?’

Lou could swear that he’d been surrounded by thousands. And then he blinked. Stunned, he couldn’t believe it. The immense silence in the vast auditorium was unnerving. He clapped his hands to ensure he hadn’t gone deaf.

 ‘She set me up for this? Seems like it…’

He tried calling others on the phone, but every call went straight to voice mail.

‘Where is everyone? Why am I here instead of with them?’

His isolation felt creepy.

‘Better move on. Cleaning crew will be at it soon.’

His anxiety swelling, Lou walked up the aisle. The lobby stood empty too. He ran out. Streetlights glowed brightly on empty streets. There were no cars. No foot traffic. Not even a bus. Silence reigned.

‘This ain’t good. This is too weird.’

Lou felt his throat tighten with fear. A loud groan escaped, startling him. It was the first sound he’d heard in several minutes.

Running to the curb, he stared down the boulevard to see shining, empty streets. No traffic.

“No, no, no… What’s happened? What can I do? What now?”

He began hyperventilating. Feeling dizzy, he staggered to a bus bench.

Sitting, he thought, ‘There’s no one. I can’t collapse. No one will find me…’

He called out. “Hey! Hello! Anyone?” Not even an echo.

‘Am I the last one on earth?’

Tears streaming, Lou fell to his knees. Clasping his hands together, he looked into the dark sky.

“Help me! Please… Show me I’m not alone!”

Sobbing, he fell forward in despair. His forehead on the cold sidewalk brought some calm.

Still kneeling, Lou heard footsteps behind him. Composing himself, he blew his nose. He stood, thrilled for some company. He turned and felt his stomach churn. It was Roman, that night’s speaker, unmistakable in his striped tux.

Offering his hand, he approached Lou.

In perfect English, he said, “You stayed ‘til the bitter end. How did you like my talk?”

Lou looked around, desperate for another. Anyone. There was no one else. Only the silence.

Wife’s Salami-fest Backfires When Videos Of Her Servicing Multiple Guys Becomes The Talk Of The Town

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Submerged Canoe

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned for yet another tale of my unmatched brilliance and the delightful chaos that seems to follow my esteemed circle of companions. This adventure takes us far from the barnyard to the edge of the farm, where a certain wooden bridge harbored secrets beneath its weathered planks. The tale begins with a plucky hedgehog, a trapped canoe, and a mystery that would test our courage, patience, and ability to work together without squabbling too much. Prepare yourself for the uproarious and utterly absurd tale of The Mystery of the Submerged Canoe.

Simon’s Urgent News

The day began like any other, with me perched atop the barn roof, basking in the early morning sun. Porkchop was snuffling about in the mud, Sedgwick was observing the world with his usual quiet wisdom from a nearby fence post, and the hens—Doris, Harriet, and Lillian—were chattering away in circles about absolutely nothing of importance.

“I heard there’s going to be rain later,” Doris said.
“Rain? Oh, I do hope not!” Harriet clucked.
“Rain! What if it ruins the straw?” Lillian squawked.
“Ruins the straw? Oh no, we can’t have that!” Doris echoed.
“Straw is very important,” Harriet affirmed.
“Very important!” Lillian cried.
And so it went on.

I might have drifted off into peaceful ignorance of their endless chatter had Simon the hedgehog not come scurrying onto the scene, his tiny paws kicking up dust as he ran.

“Sir Whiskerton! Sir Whiskerton!” Simon called, his voice high-pitched and urgent.

I leapt down from the barn roof, landing gracefully in front of him. “Simon. What’s the matter? You look like you’ve just sprinted across the entire farm.”

“I did!” Simon panted, his little sides heaving. “There’s something strange at the wooden bridge. A canoe! It’s stuck under the bridge, and I heard noises—very strange noises! Something is trapped under a blanket-covered basket inside the canoe!”

“A canoe?” Porkchop said, waddling over. “What’s a canoe doing in the river?”

“And noises?” Sedgwick added, flapping down from his post. “What kind of noises?”

“Distressed noises!” Simon exclaimed. “Whimpering, scratching, and a sort of… humming sound. It was eerie!”

“Oh, distress!” Doris gasped, flapping her wings.
“Distress! That’s terrible!” Harriet clucked.
“Terrible! What if it’s a ghost?” Lillian whispered, her feathers puffing up.
“A ghost? Oh no, not a ghost!” Doris wailed.
“Not a ghost! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Harriet added.
“Ghosts are the worst!” Lillian concluded.

I sighed. “It’s not a ghost. Ghosts don’t use canoes.” I turned back to Simon. “Thank you, Simon. We’ll investigate this mystery at once.”

“You will?” Simon said, his quills bristling with excitement. “Oh, thank you, Sir Whiskerton! I knew I could count on you.”

The Journey to the Bridge

And so, our unlikely team set off toward the wooden bridge: Sir Whiskerton, the brilliant detective; Sedgwick, the wise and ever-composed barn owl; Porkchop, whose bravery was highly questionable but who always insisted on coming along; and the trio of hens, who refused to be left behind (much to my chagrin).

“Do you think it’s a person under the blanket?” Doris asked as we walked.
“A person? What if they’re lost?” Harriet wondered aloud.
“Lost! Oh, that’s dreadful!” Lillian exclaimed.
“Dreadful! We must help them!” Doris declared.
“Help them! Yes, we must!” Harriet agreed.
“We’re such good helpers,” Lillian said proudly.

“Please, for the love of whiskers, let’s try to focus,” I muttered under my breath.

Simon guided us through the fields and down the dirt path that led to the river. As we approached the bridge, we could hear it: faint, muffled noises coming from beneath the wooden planks. It wasn’t quite a whimper, nor was it a yowl. It was… odd.

“Do you hear that?” Sedgwick said, his amber eyes narrowing. “It sounds almost like… singing.”

“Singing?” Porkchop said, his ears twitching nervously. “I don’t like this. What if it’s some kind of river troll?”

“River trolls aren’t real, Porkchop,” I said, though I couldn’t entirely blame him for his nerves. The sound was undeniably strange, and the sight of the half-submerged canoe trapped under the bridge only added to the eerie atmosphere.

The Investigation

We carefully made our way onto the bridge, peering down at the trapped canoe below. It was wedged against one of the bridge’s support beams, its bow tilted slightly upward. Inside, we could just make out a wicker basket covered with a patchy green blanket. The noises were definitely coming from the basket.

“Well,” Sedgwick said, his wings folded neatly, “it seems we have two mysteries to solve: how this canoe ended up here and what—or who—is making those noises.”

“I’m not going down there,” Porkchop said immediately. “I don’t swim. I sink.”

“Neither am I,” Rufus said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere with an apple in his paw. (He always seemed to show up at the most inconvenient times.) “But I am curious. What do you think’s in the basket? Treasure? Snacks? A haunted squirrel?”

“Haunted squirrel? Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
“Haunted squirrel! That’s the worst!” Harriet squawked.
“The worst! What if it curses us?” Doris wailed.

“It’s not a haunted squirrel!” I snapped. “Now, if everyone could stop speculating for five seconds, I’ll go down and investigate.”

Without waiting for more protests, I carefully climbed down the rocks to the edge of the water. Sedgwick flew overhead, providing a bird’s-eye view, while Porkchop, Rufus, and the hens watched nervously from the bridge.

As I reached the canoe, the noises grew louder. I extended a cautious paw and lifted the edge of the blanket.

The Surprising Discovery

Underneath the blanket was… a family of ducklings. Five of them, to be exact, huddled together in the wicker basket. They looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes and let out tiny, distressed quacks.

“Ducklings?” I said, utterly baffled. “What are you doing in a canoe?”

“They’re ducklings?” Porkchop called from the bridge. “Not ghosts?”

“Not ghosts,” I confirmed. “Just ducklings. They must’ve drifted downstream and gotten stuck here.”

“Oh, ducklings! How sweet!” Doris gushed.
“Sweet! But also sad!” Harriet clucked.
“Sad! Poor little things!” Lillian added.
“We have to save them!” Doris declared.
“Yes, save them! Rescue them!” Harriet cried.
“Ducklings must be rescued!” Lillian agreed.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help agreeing with them for once. The ducklings were clearly frightened, and we couldn’t leave them here.

The Rescue Mission

With Sedgwick’s guidance, we worked together to free the canoe. Rufus, surprisingly helpful for once, climbed down to help push, while Porkchop stood on the bridge and offered “moral support.” The hens, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.

“Push it harder!” Doris shouted.
“Harder! Yes, harder!” Harriet echoed.
“Not too hard! You might tip it over!” Lillian warned.
“Tipping it over would be terrible!” Doris cried.
“Terrible! Oh, I can’t watch!” Harriet clucked.
“But I’m watching!” Lillian announced.

Finally, with one last shove, the canoe came free and drifted gently away from the bridge. The ducklings quacked in relief, and their mother—a frantic-looking duck who had been pacing nearby—rushed to meet them.

The Happy Ending

The ducklings were reunited with their mother, and the family swam off down the river, quacking happily. Back on the bridge, we all felt a sense of accomplishment.

“Well done, everyone,” Sedgwick said, his tone warm. “It seems we’ve solved another mystery and made a difference.”

“Yeah,” Rufus said, grinning. “Who knew a bunch of ducklings could cause so much excitement?”

“Oh, ducklings are the best!” Doris said.
“The best! So adorable!” Harriet agreed.
“Adorable and brave!” Lillian added.
“Brave ducklings are the best!” Doris concluded.

I sighed. “Let’s head back to the farm before I lose my sanity.”

The Moral of the Story

Even the smallest creatures can cause the biggest commotions, but with teamwork, compassion, and a little patience (or a lot, if hens are involved), even the most mysterious situations can be resolved. And remember: never underestimate the power of a plucky hedgehog.

The End.

Fusion

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

Carol Stewart

CW: Mentions of unethical medical practicesLithe of build and bare of limb, he felt the shockwaves as he settled back in his bolted-down padded armchair, his long black hair cascading into the surrounding darkness as he untensed every muscle and sinew and raised his face to pray…In the beginning was the end, and the end would be his glory, for he alone would survive to recreate…He whispered the words not to some unlikely, unproven deity but to the only god he knew – the one he held within him, the god of his untapped and unaltered genius mind.Strike a light, Novak Ramovich! It was over and all was still. Both he and the fortress he’d built were intact. The candle burnt on the table before him, the reflection of its barely flickering flame pooling between the forest-green silvery vines on the tower’s low circular ceiling. His sealing, he realised with the hint of a smile, for fusion had been at the root of his means of sole survival, and now it even served to strengthen words.His fellow humans hadn’t believed him when he’d told them the end was nigh. When he’d tried to explain what would happen and when. Such simple, doubting fools! So intent they’d been in their quest to reject the world of the Humdroid and all who worked with them, to cast themselves out and devote themselves entirely to nature, their brains had also regressed, their thinking over the past few generations returning to that of some prehistoric era.Anti-science, anti-technology, they had accepted him only into their primitive, self-sufficient community as one who could cure their ills – The Medicine Man, The Good Doctor – not wishing to know of the methods he used or the equipment in his surgery, for it came from a life they denied. Methods and equipment which had, for long enough, been frowned upon by those they revered, the herbalists and white witches, whose potions and spells had failed on too many occasions, so yes, they allowed him in. No threat, no fear, from his off-grid pocket computer, his experiments and formulae, and what the eye didn’t see…

 

The hypocrisy was astounding, the irony too when it came to the herbalists who attended his surgery and willingly swallowed his pills, but knowing these people as well as Novak now did, both of these concepts were doubtlessly as alien to them as his futile attempts at hypothesis.

 

‘It’s like this,’ he said. ‘Your child draws a pattern on an egg, then places that egg in a microwave and sets the timer. It starts to cook, what happens then…?’

‘But that’s absurd,’ they would tell him. ‘Our children know better than to decorate eggs which haven’t been boiled or blown. And who amongst us owns such an electric monstrosity? You do know we only cook with fire?’

‘But say they did, and say you did? The egg would blow apart, would it not? The shell would be shattered, the pattern with it, and yet on those tiny fragments there might just remain something wonderful that your child has created, something worth saving. And that, my friends, shall be the fate of The Earth and all its surrounding planets. The second Big Bang is coming and coming soon. We must work on our designs, our means of salvation and protection.’

‘No, impossible!’ they’d cry. ‘The Good Doctor does have some crazy ideas. Children drawing on eggs, as if this could protect the world!’

 

Too late now, he thought. Too late to convince them. As fate would have it, the value of his discovery had been for Novak Ramovich alone. The infusion of the various chemical and natural compounds into the foundations of his dwelling which had seeped up the walls and over the roof to grow like titanium ivy, but at far greater speed, and with vines a million times stronger, had indeed proven their worth, just as all his years of study and experimentation had proven him right.

 

So here he was, the last human presence on Earth, or rather on what remained of it; his ivy-covered tower with its ever-decreasing circular rooms and the small patch of land surrounding it on which the vines had also taken root… ‘Ah!’ he cried into the flame. ‘If only the people had listened.’

 

His tower was well-equipped. He’d long-ensured he had the necessities; a water-storage system, filtration, air purification, and specially adapted soil in which to grow crops – the entire outer circle beyond the front door had been layered and shelved and reserved for this purpose as well as the storage of food.

 

He had what the people would have considered luxuries too – basic home comforts really – and had anyone seen fit to join him, he would have had room for three or four more at a push. In fact the whole community, if they’d had the sense, could have grown the ivy on their dwellings and survived. But alas it was not to be, and whilst he deplored them for their stupidity, he still couldn’t help but mourn their loss.

 

‘Grow ivy over our windows? Imprison ourselves as it barricades our doors? Is that what you’re suggesting? Seems to us you need to go sort your head out, Good Doctor. You’re getting madder by the minute. Or maybe we were wrong to trust you in the first place. Are you sure you’re not a Humdroid in disguise or one of their sympathizer spies?’

 

The people had met as one that day, and as one they’d decided to stop seeking treatment unless absolutely necessary, but still he’d held out hope.

 

The candle burned and flickered as Ivan thought of all that had happened since then. His last-ditch attempt to save the few human beings he knew could be saved. It was a doctor’s duty, after all, and with his skills and knowledge so much greater than those of a mere physician, or even a specialist surgeon, it was essential he try.

 

He’d delivered the compound himself, urged the families to use it. Even lied that after a time the vines would bear fruit, so where was the harm in letting it grow and climb? Rather some protection than none, he mused, and if the second Big Bang came with a warning, this might just give the community time to extend the growth sufficiently, and providing it covered the land between their homes, there was also the very real possibility that when the Earth shattered around them, and depending on the atmosphere, and where in the stratosphere they landed, life might even continue outside. Human life, pure and simple, no Humdroids, no bots, nothing artificial. The chance to start over, cleanly and naturally, wasn’t this what their hearts desired?

 

Oh, he put the arguments forth, both articulately and with relish, and one or two did hear him out because of it, but then the Herbalists got involved and inspected the vines on his tower, condemning the plant as nothing they’d seen before, too fast growing to be organic, too metallic a feel to its leaves and stems, and therefore worse than any invasive species, one which must have been developed, not in the doctor’s internal ‘greenhouse’ as he’d claimed, but in those dreaded Humdroid laboratories. A dangerous plant, they said. Most likely highly toxic. He’d lost the battle then and he knew it. But there was so much worse to come.

 

He got up from the chair and stretched as the candleflame cast eerie shadows on his nakedness. No reason at all for him to be sat like this other than his symbolic rebirth… We are born alone, we live alone, we die alone… Did Orson Welles not then think it fit that Man should approach the various stages unclothed? Still, the moment had passed, so what good would it do him now to wonder, let alone act as a neonate?

 

He crossed the room and opened the door which led to his private chambers. Ensuite, he thought mockingly as he threw on his black flaxen robe, for the toilet was a composter, and the washing facilities buckets. It was cold and dark here too; no sense in wasting candles or power reserves sourced as conscientiously as they had been from the wind and sun over the years, but it would be different in the next room, for this contained his laboratory – more important now than ever – so in here light and heat were essential.

 

He flicked the switch. And, thank goodness, all was as it should be. The white-walled semi-circle with its sterilized units and benches and their array of microscopes, test-tubes and jars, remained unaffected, as did what lay underneath; the great glass panel, inside of which the seeds of the new world were contained, all dormant at present, unpaired and unfertilized, bar one.

 

His patients who, for the most part, he’d attended on the opposite side of this particular section of the tower, rarely made it here, but there had been times – and those times, for all he’d known the risk, had proven vital. All had been unconscious when he’d wheeled them in, and all but one had remained that way as he’d harvested their eggs and sperm. A purely precautionary measure, he’d told himself the first time, for as yet he’d been unsure of the second big bang, but the more convinced he’d become of it happening, and the less likely it seemed that the people would agree to growing the ivy and saving themselves, the more desperate his need to continue this practice and so he’d stepped it up. Old world ethics be damned! Was it not more ethical in this situation to at least attempt to preserve and regrow the human race? And now – Ivan gazed through the panel to where the single embryo was forming – his own child would be the first. The loneliness he’d been destined to feel in the coming weeks and months at least wouldn’t last forever.

 

The people, for all they’d never discovered his secret, had at the end been aware of something. And he felt bad that they’d reacted as they had when all he’d ever wanted was to keep them from harm. The day before the Big Bang – was it only yesterday? – they’d arrived as a mob at his tower, pitchforks raised.

 

‘Call yourself a doctor, a healer? You’re evil.’

 

The ivy had all but covered his door by then, just enough of a gap remained for him to squeeze through.

 

‘Please,’ he’d implored them. ‘The herbalists have it wrong. These vines are designed to protect. Please go back to your homes and utilize the compound while you still have time. This is your only chance to save yourselves from destruction.’

 

‘You’re talking rot, Doc. And you’re rottener and more heinous and twisted than your ugly vines… Tell the people what you told me, boy.’

 

The man at the front of baying mob pushed the youth in question before him. He stood with his head bowed, cap in hand, ringing it as if it were sodden, too nervous and ashamed to show his face, but Novak knew exactly who he was. The only one of his patients who had woken prematurely during the harvesting procedure and who, up until this point, hadn’t said a word about this or anything else. Novak had been worried by his muteness at first, but had then assumed the lad had accepted his explanation that this was all quite normal when treating a hiatus hernia, and it wasn’t as if he’d ever spoken much before.

 

‘Well, if you’re not going to open your mouth, lad, I’ll do it for you,’ the man roared out and pointed an accusatory finger. ‘This man here, who we have allowed into our community and placed in a trusted position, is nothing more than a dirty abuser. A pervert, a deviant. What do you say we teach him a lesson he won’t forget?’

 

And so the charge began, a charge of which Novak remembered surprisingly little, although he must have been bludgeoned by something. He’d felt his head throb so badly he’d been near-convinced his skull had been cracked in two as he retreated into the tower, to seal himself in behind the vines from which he never again emerged. He further recalled disrobing and sinking into his chair, but nothing more until the shattering of the universe. Such a ghastly confusion, he thought, but then he considered the word ‘confusion’ and smiled.

 

***

 

‘So, what do you make of him, then, our latest subject?’ Bald Doctor Hubert Greenberg of the Humdroid Institute asked of his colleague with the holographic hair as their eyes lit up reflecting one another’s blue fibre optics.

 

‘An interesting mind, that’s for sure,’ Doctor Flora Gilbert replied with a scintillating femme-fatale-like swish as she nodded towards the wired-up brain in the box which belonged to the still of the man on the overhead screen. ‘Considers himself a genius, and perhaps he is. The fused ivy compound is certainly worth exploring, but since we’ve extracted the formula already, we can surely utilise this without the need for further input. As for the growing of human embryos, well that’s pretty old hat to say the least.’

 

‘Yes, from what I could gather, he sees himself as a bit of a guru, the saviour of the human race, but selfish too, not completely au fait with technological advancement, unless of course it benefits him and his kind in a way that suits him. Too dangerous a mind to keep hold of, do you think?

 

‘Hmm, perhaps, but none of the other brains we’ve extracted have coped so well in the given scenario. All have shown signs of weakness and heightened emotion during the simulation, extreme in most cases when it came to the actual destruction of the planets. This one’s practical resourcefulness and ability to rise above such debilitating sentiment whilst controlling his fear would be most advantageous… Is the prototype body ready?’

 

‘It is, but I’m not sure we should risk attaching at present.’

 

‘Or at all?’ Doctor Gilbert inclined her silicone head as Doctor Greenberg pondered.

 

‘Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. Best take no chances. More to lose than to gain. And besides, no matter the subject’s stance on our technology, who’d want the mind of one so intent on playing god at the heart of our new master race?’

Layered Chicken Mole Bake

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Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 12 (6 inch) corn tortillas, cut into halves
  • 8 ounces cooked, boneless, skinless chicken breasts, coarsely shredded(2 cups)
  • 1 medium green pepper, chopped
  • 1 cup frozen corn, thawed
  • 1 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained
  • 1 cup prepared mole sauce
  • 6 ounces Chihuahua cheese, grated (1 1/2 cups), divided
  • 1 plum tomato, seeded and chopped
  • 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, finely chopped
  • Sour cream (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly spray bottom and sides of Springform Pan with vegetable oil using Kitchen Spritzer; set aside. Cut tortillas in half using Pizza Cutter; set aside.
  2. Coarsely chop cooked chicken and green pepper using Food Chopper. Combine chicken, green pepper, corn, black beans and mole sauce in Classic Batter Bowl; set aside. Grate cheese using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
  3. Arrange 8 tortilla halves in bottom of pan. Top with 1/3 of the chicken mixture and 1/2 cup of cheese. Repeat layers 2 more times using remaining ingredients.
  4. Bake 18 to 20 minutes or until cheese has melted. Meanwhile, core tomato using The Corer(TM). Finely chop tomato and cilantro using Utility Knife. Remove pan from oven; place on Simple Additions(TM) Medium Square. Run releasing tool around sides of pan. Release and remove collar from pan. Sprinkle tomato and cilantro over top of tortilla bake.
  5. Cut into wedges using Chef’s Knife.
  6. Serve immediately with sour cream, if desired.

Notes

Substitute 1 1/2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend for Chihuahua cheese.

In a hurry? Substitute cooked rotisserie chicken (available in most supermarkets) for boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Depending on its size, a roasted chicken can yield 4 to 6 cups of chopped chicken.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 440, Total Fat 21g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 60mg, Carbohydrates 42g, Protein 22g, Sodium 1210mg, Fiber 7g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

It stems from two problems, that Trump doesn’t fully understand:

  1. Military strategic importance.
  2. Mining of rare earth metals and minerals.

Trump wrongly thinks he needs to own Greenland in order to have military bases. But USA and Denmark are both members of NATO, and USA and Denmark made agreements on military bases in 1941 and 1951. Trump can easily negotiate a stronger military pressence in Greenland, without having to worry about the 590 million Dollar grant Denmark sends to Greenland every year.

Rare earth metals and minerals are very difficult and expensive to mine on Greenland. Only the ice-free area at the coastline that has the same size as Sweden, is accessible. It is far cheaper to mine those minerals already pressent in mainland USA and China. Minerals from both Greenland and USA are send to China, because USA does not have facilities to process minerals. Smartphones are very expensive, but the metals and minerals inside are only worth around 5 Dollars, the value of such technology is not in the mining industry. The most accessible mines in Greenland will run dry after 30 years, after which the 60,000 Greenlanders again will have to rely on grants of 590 million Dollar grants every year. Trump will loose money on buying Greenland. Greenland has not allowed oil-drilling, because they are worried about pollution. Mining on the Kvanefjeld plateau has also been denied because of the risk of pollution, like if a dam full of minning sludge collapses (photo of Kvanfjeld below).

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main qimg 524c8616fc3f2f84e94195cccec48a03

The rare painted “Artemis” bust is exhibited at the Bolu Museum

by Emma Carola

The rare painted “Artemis” bust, discovered during a construction excavation in the 1970s, is currently on display at the

Bolu Museum. This approximately 2,000-year-old artifact is notable for having retained its original colors. The

Bolu Chamber of Commerce and Industry aims to increase the bust’s visibility through a 3D modeling project.

A Valuable Artifact for Bolu and Türkiye

Gül Karaüzüm Yıldız, the Deputy Director of the Bolu Museum, stated in an interview with Anadolu Agency that the Artemis bust is of great significance to both Bolu and Türkiye. She emphasized that while many museums in Anatolia have sculptures, very few have preserved their colors, making this bust a rare piece.

Photo: Anadolu Agency

Colorful Sculptures in Ancient Times

Yıldız explained that sculptures from ancient times were painted, saying, “Sculptures were not colorless as we see them in museums today. Their hair and clothing were painted, and there are traces of makeup on their faces. Therefore, this sculpture is valuable to us because of its colorful nature. Additionally, the marble is of very high quality. It is particularly significant as it is the first sculpture associated with the goddess found in Bolu.”

Polychromy Technique in Colorful Sculptures

Hakan Ulutürk, an archaeologist at the Bolu Museum, discussed the bust’s construction technique and features, stating, “What is particularly important to us is that the piece is ‘polychrome,’ meaning it is very colorful. Such pieces were produced extensively during the Roman period, but very few have survived to the present day with their original paint.”

Ulutürk noted that the female head sculpture was colored using the “ganosis” technique, which is a method applied to protect the painted or smooth surfaces of marble sculptures. He continued, “Ganosis is fundamentally a technique involving the application of beeswax in various forms to preserve the color of the piece. Therefore, this artifact is very important to us because of its colorful nature. Polychromy was a technique frequently applied in Roman and Ancient Greek sculptures, but it has not survived well to the present day.”

Preservation of Painted Sculptures

Ulutürk mentioned that one of the main reasons the paints used in the Roman and Greek periods have not survived is due to the environments in which they were located. He stated, “This sculpture has been preserved in a covered space, which has allowed its colors to be transmitted to the present day. Additionally, the quality of the technique applied may also be a significant factor.”

Dating Crissy : a friend of my favorite co-worker in South Carolina

The shape of the future of warfare has changed, and unmanned warfare will become mainstream. America’s so-called war experience is outdated or wrong.

America has not fought a comparable adversary since its founding, The war in Afghanistan and the Gulf War are asymmetric wars

Like Muhammad Ali knocking down a schoolboy, and what good does that experience do the he?

After all, Afghanistan and Iraq have no nuclear weapons, drones, advanced missiles, carrier fleets, or sixth-generation fighter jets. There are no advanced unmanned troops. But China has it all.

Chinese drones and robot dogs are already in service, and the future of total war is no longer what it was during World War II.

The most important point is that China has more production capacity than the G7 countries combined!

To take one of the simplest examples, China’s electric vehicle production in 2023 is 20 million, and this is only electric vehicles. These production lines can all be used to produce drones, robot dogs, and tanks in time of war.

You can check how many pieces of furniture in your house are made in China, which today has more industrial power than the Soviet Union and the United States combined during the Cold War.

Self-detonating robot

Aircraft carrier

DF31-AG

robot dogs

Unitree B2-W 天赋觉醒!_哔哩哔哩_bilibili
在发布量产一年后,宇树 Unitree B2-W 工业轮足,觉醒了更多极限天赋技能! 请大家务必友好的使用机器人

Sixth-generation fighter

Does the U.S. military have experience fighting these weapons?


Now there is a saying on the Chinese Internet:

In the past, the U.S. military had fighter jets and artillery, while the People’s Liberation Army had a will like steel.

Now that ,the PLA also has fighter jets and artillery, Americans had better pray the US military has the same will as steel.

1950 North Korea Chosin Lake PLA soldiers

These PLA soldiers remained steadfast in their duty, never laying down their arms until their last breath.

Why are Japan lovers so mad about videos from China?

Is China preparing to go to war with the United States?

Absolutely

China is utterly unified in this. They have their red lines beyond which a US Sino conflict is simply unavoidable.

Its why they are securing their land routes, their energy security and their food security

Today the US is divided

  • The Hardliners want Russia & China entirely destroyed even if it’s WWIII
  • The Trumpists want China entirely isolated but want Russia and it’s energy resources as a friend
  • The RINOs want CPC destroyed but are greedy for money and want the Chinese Market and it’s access
  • The Democrats want to be reelected and want to stay in power and would prostitute their daughters and mothers and wives to do so.

So as a result US is not yet unified to go to war with China in their own backyard.

Lots of Democrats and RINOs have billions of investments in China to protect

Biden himself is one such Democrat despite the Rhetoric

Also US has four major power centers

  • Big Tech,
  • Military Industrial Complex,
  • Wall Street
  • Big Industry (Oil, Coal, Gas and Guns)

Of these four, consider their points of view…

  • Wall Street hates wars of any kind and wants China to badly avoid dumping US Debt. They also have Trillions invested in China on behalf of various funds in US
  • MI Complex likes Wars but not Wars against China or Russia. They like wars where they can sell maximum weapons but where victory is guaranteed. They prefer milking Ukraine conflict and targeting Iran next. A War against Russia or China is a black hole for weapons and MI Complex would simply be unable to manufacture at half the speed that is required
  • Big Tech doesn’t really care
  • Big Industry loves Wars as it means booming profits

So once again the Power Centers aren’t united in favor of a Major War.

Finally you have the PENTAGON

It’s top officials know a War with China is a nuclear one and that spells the end of the world.

So they will deescalate

So right now it’s just the HARDLINERS who are provoking China, hoping to unify everyone if China succumbs to the provocation

Blinken is a hardliner

China meanwhile has changed course. It’s dumping all the hardliners. Zhao Lijian is gone and replaced by a very benevolent young woman.

It’s message is it won’t succumb to provocation while trying very hard to retain an image as a Peaceful Nation which minds it’s own business.

Its why in a matter of a mere 3 years – US has been acknowledged as a Warmonger ans China as a Land that wants peace by most of the Neutral World.

Sadly there is a problem – UKRAINE

The Domination of Russia and the fact that all the Western Propaganda is being scoffed at by the American Citizens is worrisome

Even worse is the fact that all of the world are seeing all the weapons of NATO get torn to pieces like M777 Or HIMARS with T80s and MLRS

US desperately want to turn the attention away from Ukraine, some excuse to stop supplying weapons to Ukraine and force a ceasefire with concessions using China as a major excuse.

They must sell the China Threat to everybody to do this effectively

So it’s a big pigs breakfast out there

China meanwhile is clear

It doesn’t want a war but it has red lines and it knows exactly what to do and when to do.

A Sign of a Winner

China Official Refers to Americans as “Peasants”

A senior Chinese official warned Tuesday that President Donald Trump’s tariffs would backfire and that soon, “those peasants in the U.S.” would “wail in front of the 5,000 years of Chinese civilization.”

Xia Baolong large
Xia Baolong large

The remarks are the latest Chinese repudiation of Trump’s global trade war as Beijing shifts gears from attempting to communicate with the White House to hitting back frequently and forcefully in an effort to cast the United States as an irresponsible global power.

China’s top official overseeing Hong Kong and Macao, Xia Baolong (shown above), lashed out at the U.S. during a speech on national security, in which he linked 2019 pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong with what Beijing sees as continued U.S. efforts to suppress China.

Xia called the U.S. decision to levy a tariff of 145 percent on all goods from Hong Kong, a special administrative region of China, “brutally unreasonable and extremely shameless.”

“The U.S. isn’t after our tariffs but our very survival,” he said. “The U.S. has repeatedly contained and suppressed Hong Kong … and this will eventually backfire on itself.”

Since Trump took office in January and set about remaking the global trading system, the world’s two largest economies have levied import duties on each other that are now so high they amount to a trade embargo.

China has countered Washington’s latest levies by imposing a tariff of 125 percent on all U.S. goods while Trump has maintained 145 percent taxes on all Chinese imports, with temporary exceptions for semiconductors and consumer electronics.

It’s a certainty that China would surpass the US in economy size.

China is already quite a bit ahead of the US in the making and creation of real things:

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However, China’s economy still lags a bit behind the US largely due to its service industry. This is partially due to the nature of the two economic models: in the US Capitalist model, you’re encouraged to charge as much as possible for your service. For example, the average litigation cost in the US is us$50000. While under the Chinese socialist model, individuals are encouraged to provide their service as cheap as possible, for the benefit of the whole society. So the same litigation fee is restricted to a flat rate of just under $7. That’s a wopping 7000x difference. It’s an extreme example but it does show that the two economies are not directly comparable by market capitalization. The Chinese service prices will naturally grow when Chinese people slowly become richer.

A good indicator for comparing the true size of the two economies, which scientists suggested is even viable for comparison across star systems, is energy usage:

The US abandoned the Philippines again

How To Go Back

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

Max Sinclair

Two years ago, I stared into the eyes of a little dead girl. She was sprawled on some highway, deep in what used to be the Midwest, her dead, fermenting eyes staring past me, and up, up, up, into the sun-bleached sky.They didn’t leave many bodies behind when they left. Didn’t want to find skeletons when they came back, I assume. Her skin was dark and leathery. There was a hole growing in her cheek. Blue tendrils came twirling out of the rotted, bony mass, with those little orange tips. I wished they were green; I miss the trees, the grass. The closest thing to nature are the dead bodies with the synthetic viruses, eating themselves towards the clouds; puny, fingernail scratches on deep blue skin.She might’ve been dead for three months, six at a stretch. The first thing I felt when I saw her was excitement. She was the closest thing I’d seen to another person in six years. My father’s body had been more pristine, less infected by the now, a perfect conservation of the then. There was only the tight, red little hole in his temple; the pool of dark, sticky blood pooling around bits of his brain, staring at me like a sick, foaming, red-furred dog. His eyes were stained red by blood, and they sat uncomfortably in their sockets, dislodged by the force of a bullet tearing it all up behind them. He was smiling, a slash of red teeth, red eyes popping. I half-expected them to flick towards me, half-expected the revolver, still lying loosely in his palm, to fire a matching shot through my own temple. I was relieved when he killed himself, as I was when I saw the dark hole in that little girl’s cheek. I took the gun, I took his shoes, I turned around and I left. As I reached the crest of the yellow hill, I looked back at him, lying like roadkill on the highway, in the dead, yellow grass, our truck lying upside-down, smoking, a few feet away. I wiped blood from my forehead and I pressed on, the sun belching like a toad white bubble of heat that burst around me periodically. There was a similar gunshot in the little girl’s calf that poked out from her purple nightgown. It was the nightgown that made me vomit. I heaved onto the tarmac. I heaved and I heaved. She was so young. The same age as me, probably, when I left my father’s corpse to rot in the fat, white sun that turned the sky grey from its heat.It happened in the night, I thought, sitting on the tarmac, staring at the little dead girl. There were faint, sun-baked faint tyre marks on the road. She had Gone, I thought. So young. She died, seething with red-hot pain, alone in the inky night, not an inkling of who she once might’ve been. The sun was rising, the sky was losing her blue. The pile of vomit to my side would begin to cook soon, like a stinking goose egg in a frying pan. I stood up. I looked at her once more, a China doll, cracked up and fading in the sun; I turned my head back to the road, the tarmac melting into a black puddle on the horizon.It had been the last wink of winter, that day. Or what would’ve been winter. My diary says so: March third. It’s almost definitely wrong- the last time I was really sure of the day, the month, the year: I was nine. The day the school caught fire and burned down. The village burned for a week; the school was first, a black plume into the purply-grey midday sky. The grass was already threadbare, yellow; the buildings were lazy, wooden shacks, standing crooked; haphazard, peeling rows like a pile of matches. It’s difficult to build, gather materials- do anything at all- when you swelter all day under a rock, or in a shack, waiting for the Midnight Hours. The village burned and then Grandma picked up Bleach on the exodus, and soon everybody was Gone, my father on his way. That day, after seeing the dead girl, I had collected enough gas and food to wait out the summer in the Caves. They were damp, dripping places if you went down far enough. It stank of rotted bodies, those who had starved or Gone, but it was cool, it was dark, it was safer than third degree burns and snarling tumours all summer long.I remember, I’d left it so late that I knew to stop driving and lie in the grass under the car- I usually passed out from the heat after an hour or so. When the sun was lower in the sky, orange and red, the sky green and pink, I poured water over myself, guzzled it through my cracked, bleeding lips. And then I drove and I drove. I’d left it so late, so dangerously late, that towards the end of the journey they started appearing in the sky. Small, black dots at first, but they got bigger. Their ships. Full of, I don’t know. Probably scientists in grey coats. Watching. Waiting for everything to die so they could start again. They’re nothing but black pebbles in the sunset to me, and they disappear in the safety of the night. Black pebbles, no windows, no movement, no noise. They’ve no exhaust fumes, no visible sign of life. They just float calmly in the sky, black beads, watching as Earth eats itself like a coyote starving in the desert, picking at its own ribcage for morsels of its fleshy stomach; a stomach long gone. That little dead girl was a premonition, I suppose. It had been a silent, dissociative half-decade of white, silent heat. Each year dripped onto my lips like the last of the water in the hip flask I dangle, now, as I speak, above my head.I should’ve been gone for the Caves days ago. I stand on the roof of a gas station. It’s midday, the sky is clear and grey. The yellow-brown plains sprawl outwards, forever on all sides; the highway cuts a black line down the middle. There’s the occasional lone ranger, a telephone post in the distance, the hollow carcass of a tree. It’s silent. So, so silent. Silence as deafening as a red sea, crashing down on my shoulders and burrowing into my dry, blistered throat. There’s blood leaking from the blisters in my cheeks; it starts to boil, slowly, etching teary burns down my chin, down my neck. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. I’m a pair of eyes. I forgot the Cave long ago. I’ve been waiting for this day. The last day of winter, the last wink. I hold my arms outstretched. From somewhere far away, much bluer and greener, much louder, if I squint, I can feel them burn like an old photograph on the campfire. The sensation starts to feel like rain, cold and relieving.I Bleached myself intentionally. I went to one of the rotted bodies deep in the Caves: a man. In the torchlight, his eyes were milky and half closed, his mouth slack. There was a bottle of something that had rolled away from his right hand. There were foamy remnants on his lips. He reminded me of my little brother, Geoffrey. Maybe if he had grown up in the green and blue world, then, he would have looked like that. I kissed his forehead. I began to forget not long after. It was sweet; it was like falling slowly asleep. From this nightmare. This fucking nightmare, I hear myself scream, from far away, in the blue and green. I start to turn away now, as my legs begin to give out on the roof of the gas station. I can feel Nothing holding out his hand. The blistered now is a universe away. Just before I turn, and walk down the hill, the rain pouring onto my neck, blurring my vision into a sweet, comfortable grey, expansive, eternal grey, I see that little dead girl, lying on the highway, sprawled out on the scorched Earth.I smile as I slip away; I smile at her red, unblinking eyes.

Not the P-51 Mustang, Spitfire, F-6F or Hawker Tempest. Sometimes even losers have an ace up their sleeve, which doesn’t get the recognition it deserves! The best fighter of WWII was unequivocally the Messerschmitt Me-262. Nothing else that was designed and manufactured in WWII came close to its overall abilities. Captain Eric Brown who tested captured Me 262s, described it as “a quantum leap in aeronautics”.

The Me-262 could fly 110 miles (190KM) faster than the next fastest aircraft, making it almost impossible for an enemy aircraft to get behind its tail. Allied aircraft could trump the Me-262 in instantaneous turn rate due to their lower wing loading, but they also bled energy more quickly, losing speed and altitude much faster than the Me-262 did, which is why it achieved a kill ratio of 5.4:1 in the ending stages of WWII under adverse combat conditions, compared to 2:1 for the P-51 Mustang and 1:1 for the P-47.

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Major Walter Nowotny, a celebrated German pilot who was commanding an Me-262 unit had to intercept an Allied attack which, according to him, consisted of more than 300 B-24 bombers, escorted by hundreds of P-47s. Nowotny performed that mission with only 11 Me-262 in airworthy condition.

Only 200 or so Me-262 were deployed for combat out of the 1,430 that were produced. Despite overwhelming odds, poor training and complete Allied domination of German skies, it was able to amass 542 kills against 100 losses. When the Me-262s became operational, American fighter pilots kept them busy in dogfights, which prevented most of the jets from attacking the bombers. As a result, many of the Me-262 kills consisted of P-51 Mustangs and P-47 Thunderbolts. A great majority of Me-262 were destroyed by Allied aircraft during takeoff and landing. Many were destroyed on the ground where they were parked due to lack of fuel, parts or qualified pilots. The Me-262 engines required careful handling, and getting behind the Allied bombers required throttling down considerably to target the B-17 bombers. They ran the risk of a P-51 getting behind their tail.

The Me-262 engineering concepts were so revolutionary that it literally trashed four decades of piston aircraft design and engineering technologies. It was the world’s first fighter aircraft with swept wings, featuring a sweep of 18.5 degrees. Its 30 mm cannons were also more powerful than most other aircraft. The aircraft had full span automatic leading-edge slats which helped increase the overall lift by as much as 35% in tight turns and at low speeds, giving it a decent turn rate.

The Me-262 wasn’t perfect. It had a long list of weaknesses and teething problems that is generally the case with new technologies. The engines were slow to spool up, had a short life (15–20 flight hours) due to shortage of high temperature metals and it could flame out during rapid throttle changes and aggressive maneuvering. After the war ended, the captured aircraft were studied, flight tested and its strengths were copied by all major Allied powers. The Me-262 influenced the designs of production aircraft such as the North American F-86 Sabre, MiG-15, and Boeing B-47 Stratojet and ushered in the jet age.

My Girlfriend Dumped Me Without Any Real Explanation, How Do I Become The Guy That NEVER Happens To?

How did Chinese tea culture influence Russian tea traditions throughout history?

Tea first entered Russia through Central Asia as early as the 9th to 10th centuries, where it began to create a diverse tea culture. By the 17th century, tea was officially introduced to the Russian Tsardom when a Russian ambassador brought tea as a gift from the Mongol Khan.

In 1679, Russia established a contract for the regular supply of dry tea from China, leading to the formation of tea caravans that traveled from China to Moscow along the Great Tea Road, a part of the Silk Road.

For nearly a millennium, Russians primarily consumed Chinese tea, which varied by region and social class. Popular types included Pu-erh for travelers and military men, and green tea (Mao Feng) for the nobility.

Initially, tea was regarded as an elite drink and was often prescribed by doctors for various ailments, reflecting its medicinal roots in Chinese culture.

The Russian tradition of tea drinking evolved to become a social ritual, emphasizing hospitality and conversation rather than the ceremonial aspects found in Chinese tea culture. As noted by curator Olga Yurkina, “In Russia, tea is an excuse for a long conversation”.

The samovar, a unique Russian tea utensil, was inspired by Mongol kettles and became central to Russian tea culture. It allows for the brewing of concentrated tea (zavarka) that can be diluted with hot water, a practice that reflects the communal aspect of tea drinking.

Russian tea is typically served with a variety of foods, including sweetbreads, pastries, and fruit preserves, which enhances the social experience of tea drinking.

Tea gatherings have been immortalized in Russian literature, symbolizing family and community, further embedding tea into the cultural fabric of Russia.

The influence of Chinese tea culture on Russian traditions is evident in the types of tea consumed, the methods of preparation, and the social customs surrounding tea drinking. Over centuries, these practices have evolved uniquely within the Russian context, creating a rich tea culture that honors its Chinese origins while developing its distinct identity.

Lost in a Dark Place

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

Patrick Huber

A chaotic symphony of light and sound pop and burst until all that remains is silence and darknessYou wake up sitting in the pilots seat of a craft pod. Your perspective is limited and you hear your breathing which means you have a helmet covering your head and face. You are in a flight suit of some sort designed for distant off world travel. So far you are unable to see beyond your mask, but a blinking light brings your attention to an instrument panel just at arms length. Most of instruments are broken save for the one that blinks to let you know everything else is broken. Attempting to ground yourself, you find that you have no recollection of the events that brought you here.From what you can see out the window is not much. Your world is enveloped in darkness. The terrain looks flat but you are unable to see much more than a few yards from the ship. You open the hatch and get better view of this strange world.Without proper readings of where you are, you venture to keep your suit on until you can know if the air is breathable. Your suit can hold enough oxygen for up to 18 hours without any extreme strengths of physical exertion. Stepping foot on the ground you notice gravity appears to be similar to earth. You get first good look at the sky. Without knowing the day/night cycle you are unsure how to evaluate what you’re looking at. The sky appears to be a dark amethyst color with streaks of indigo haphazardly brushed across it. They act like clouds high up in the sky, each hiding a glowing blue moon behind it.Your take quick stock of your situation. The life boat you crashed land was a one tripper and the crash did away with any hopes of attempts at a second. Your suit appears relatively untouched from the crash and in good working order. There is a wrist band with a readout for the oxygen supply. Other than that you have your legs and your wits. With no better alternative you decide to walk away from the lifeboat.Looking over a horizon to the left, you gaze at what could pass as storms cloud in the distance. A thick layer of dark purple hangs between the orange sand and the sky. You see the clouds roll and bubble with momentum. To the right looks clear, so you go right. You do not know how long you may have before a storms hits or what that would look like here but you attempt to put some haste in your step.No destination other than survival. A purposeful walk turns to a jog which briefly jumps to a run but slows back down to a brisk walk. The weight of the suit and limited oxygen put a low ceiling on how fast you can travel. You decide a steady pace is best.You have no sense of time or how far you’ve traveled. You glance behind you every so often to check on the storm which appears to have stalled at least for now. You could measure your distance from the pod but you lost sight of it and your only point of direction a while ago.NO STAY WITH ME!A voice thundering across the surface of the planet. The vibrations knock you to your feet. You’re momentarily paralyzed by this new mystery.STAY WITH ME!The voice says again and like before the world shook.The ground stabilizes and your fear subsides. Or at least it intensifies enough to get you back to your feet and moving again. You add fearful determination into your walk with an intent of fleeing and hiding. But with nothing to see other than a dark sky and burnt orange sand you are once again fleeing with no destination.Deep on the horizon straight head a small flash of what could be lighting popped. Unsure of the meaning of what you saw, it is a promise of something other than darkness perhaps so you continue toward it. You believe you make out a rise in elevation in the distance. Could be mountains or perhaps unnatural mounds signaling life. Either way you head towards it. The mounds gradually grow in height and you can be pretty certain they are natural mountains. This brings a glimmer of hope to your otherwise bleak situation. The change of terrain is breath of fresh air so to speak until ground elevation drops off and you find yourself on the precipice of a deep canyon. Hesitation brings you to look around for other options.The storm still intensifies behind you, the layer of bubbling blackness is twice as large as before and growing faster. With no alternative you find a gentle enough slope for you to slide down to a lower ledge. It’s about 8 feet or so down, you slide down with little trouble. You see that your path to the bottom is a much more of the same. A series of small rock outcrops and ledges a few feet or so down that allows you to get to the bottom.Once at the bottom of the canyon your world view becomes much narrower. Your perception is now framed by the dark 60 foot walls that could not be more than 20 or so feet apart. You stay on the move. As you hustle through a maze of dark black rock, the storm has caught up with you and there is no more color to the sky. Black clouds spill over the sides of the canyons, cascading down the rock like water down a mountainside. And just like water it continues to flow in your direction. You pick up speed. But the rush of black most catches up with you. It builds around your ankles and yet you move with ease as there is little or no reaction.You continue through the canyon as the clouds are up past your knees. You lose notice of any color in the sky, but rather different contrasts of darkness. You are aware of no light source but still you are able to see your path through this colorless void.The canyon walls are narrowing and the mist is high up around your waist. There is an unmistakeable mass to it now. You feel resistance in your movement. The cloud is so dense you cannot see below the surface. The density as created a pressure and it restricts your movement. It feels as if you are walking through a storm cloud with wind crashing at you from every direction. You struggle to keep moving but you know you must. If anything because the alternative is to quit and die and you don’t quit eve if it means death. Your brain starts to process what it sees in front of you. You’ve reached the end of canyon and a 100 foot wall is ahead of you.The cloud is nearly up your chest, you have to get out of this. As you approach the wall you a see a small crack about 8ft tall and maybe 18 inches wide. You stick the face shield of your helmet into the crack to see what’s behind it. Like everything else it’s dark, but you sense depth in the darkness and from the cloud that has seeped in the ground level stays constant at least for a while.NO! NO! DON’T GO! STAY WITH ME!A booming voice echoed through the walls of the canyon. Sonic booms explode in the totality of the atmosphere disrupting the rocky terrain. Large rocks crumble down from the walls disappearing in the surface level clouds. You cling to the wall, not wanting to get sucked under the surface.You have to get of there.You attempt to escape through the crack but your helmet and your suit make you too wide. You desperately try to force metal and plastic through rock but it won’t budge. A tsunami of wind builds and comes rushing through canyon. The force of dense air presses you against the wall. Your world is enveloped by swirling black wind. Your panic pushes you to act desperately and with little thought to possible consequences.You take a deep breath and remove your helmet and try to squeeze through. Still nothing, so you quickly strip off your suit. Wearing nothing but a monotone under base layer you take your first breath of alien air and are relieved to not immediately die. It could be oxygen but for now it’s not poison.

The narrow crack blocks most of the wind but forces you to side step most of the way. With only the side walls to guide you, you press on. Without the filter from the helmet visor you see that the world takes on a dark bluish tone. Your arms spreading farther alert tell you the gap is widening. The ground slopes so much so that you lose your balance and begin to slide. A slide forms to a roll as you travel down a hill before coming to a tumble at the bottom. You roll to your back and look up. Large spikes of black rock with dim blue glow cover the ceiling hanging down at varied length. You sit up to see the ground is not much different with opposing spikes stretching up from the ground. You’re up on your feet, feeling little effects from the fall. Unsure of where to move next you stay frozen.

A low inaudible humming voice echoes through cave before a flash of light blinds you. The brightness subsides and the cave is alive with electricity, arcing from point to point in a concerted ballet. You are able to see the cave now in its full wonder. The ceiling must be 20 feet high and the expanse looks infinite. Most interesting is a reflection you notice from a large mass of black water. You run to edge and it is indeed a lake of blackness. You bend down and put your hand in it. It’s as dark and souless as oil but with the touch of water. You stand once again at the precipice of a decision with no clear motivation. The electricity has died down so you are back to a muted blue darkness. You see no end to this lake so it could stretch on forever. You step into it to check the depth. You look back away from the shore and see the hole you fell about 8 feet off the ground and the wall, about 50 yards from the shore, marking this end of the cave.

You look around for answers. There’s always something. You venture farther from the shore but a force pulls you back. You find yourself heading back to the lake.

Again the low humming voice throughout the cave and the flash of light. It knocks you into the water before giving way to the electric current dance above.

A rhythmic pounding, weak but noticeable, emerges. It causes the spikes to hum and reverberate.

You get up and are immediately taken back by a tall cyclone of light at the back wall of the cave, stretching from ground to ceiling.

You walk towards it and feel warmth immediately. It’s the first time since you woke up that you have noticed temperature. It never occurred to you if it was hot or cold. But now as you step closer to this light, arms of warmth reach out to pull you closer.

A small black wave rushes up from the lake and swirl around your feet before reseding back. You take an another step toward the light and again a black wave comes in this time up to your knees and you feel the pull of current as the water recedes.

You move closer to the swirling mass of white illumination and are hit by another wave that knocks you to the ground and this time the current drags you back a few feet. You jump to your feet and sprint toward the light. Another crash from behind and you fall face forward down into blackness.

The current has you, it pulls you under the black water. You tumble and roll around trying to get a sense of your direction. The wave crashes back on land. Your up and sprinting hard now toward the light. You dare to look back amd catch a tidal wave building and rushing up quick.

The brightness begins to hurt your eyes and you squint but still run. You are hypnotized but the warmth as it grabs hold of you. You feel drops of water falling as you know the wave is about crash down. You push forward with everything you have left and leap forward just as the wave crashes behind you. The intensity of the wave pushes you forward into the cyclone and your world goes to white.

 

*****

 

“I have a pulse” one EMT alerts another.

“Ok she’s stable. Let’s load her up.”

It’s early morning, the sun has broken free from the horizon. Last of the night, fighting a losing battle with the sun, paint an ombré of black to blue to yellow in the sky. The virgin suns rays reflect off the fresh dusting of snow, illuminating the world.

The two EMTs secure the woman to the gurney and exit a suburban home towards a waiting ambulance.

A man, early 40s runs along side the gurney, he’s wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, and slippers, he’s holding her hand. She’s loaded up, the doors are closed, and the ambulance drives off. The man walks back over to the sidewalk and bends down to embrace two small children their eyes red and swollen, their cheeks wet with tears.

“Is Mommy going to be ok” a young girl of 8 asks her dad.

“Mommy’s going to be ok, she got lost in a dark place but she found the light again” he tells them.

The flashes of red and blue fade on their faces as the ambulance gains distance from them. The family watches as their mother heads off toward the rising sun of a new day.

I didn’t see this personally, but the story stuck with me forever. This one dude noticed the day room door was unlocked when it was closed, so he went in and tried to walk of with one of the TVs, walking our a CO looked at him and said “ ‘the fuck you doing?” and dude dropped the tv and ran. Ran in a locked down hallway with COs and bars and no way out, but dude kept runnin, circles around the wall looking for a way out, COs not bothering just waiting for him to tire himself out, the other inmates already on knees heads behind back just laughing their ass off. Dude gets tired, they tackle/cuff him and the first CO asked “What the hell is wrong with you, we caught you clear, you should have put hand up and try not to get hurt” Dude said “Ive ran from cops all my life, old habits die hard”

I wake up, say a quick morning prayer, salute the flag, and read my Bible for awhile as I clean my AR-15. Then, I crack six eggs on the griddle and cook them sunny side up and, while the eggs are sizzling, I drop 12 strips of bacon on there, too.

I brew myself some coffee and take it without sugar, milk, or creamer, just completely black, unlike the sissy, limp-wristed libruls and their Starbucks “coffees”

After breakfast, I get dressed for the day. I wear my favorite shirt, “I’m with stupid”, and Levi’s jeans. I also wear steel toed work boots even though I don’t work in a place that requires them. I jump in my 120,000 dollar pickup truck with a Cummins diesel, coal-rolling engine, that I never haul things in, to drive to my non-construction job and Wal-Mart.

And as I roll coal, I say, “Take that, Greta Thunberg! You can’t tell ME what to do!”

While I’m driving to Wal-Mart or work, I listen to far-right conspiracy radio shows and get angry all over again that Obama won. But I can’t get too deep into the show because there’s a mass shooting happening on basically every block, everyday! Gotta keep my head on a swivel.

I bob and weave as rounds whiz by my truck. I even return fire with my fully-automatic AR-15 with the shoulder thing that goes up, and 25,000 round clips. Then, one of the thugs claps me with his 9mm HiPoint.

You’ve heard what our President (Biden) has said about 9mm! It blows your lungs out! So I drive to a for-profit, corporate-run hospital that is completely unregulated and has every politician on their payroll, to get my right lung back where it belongs.

And they fix me right up, as always, and charge me 82 quintillion, 644 quadrillion, 144 trillion, 982 billion, 832 million, 700 thousand, 936 dollars and 14 cents. They offer me a COVID shot, which I decline because I’m a selfish American who only thinks about myself, and doesn’t trust big pharma.

Then, I immediately file for medical bankruptcy because I pay my health insurance company to not pay. After that, if I have work, I report to work quickly, because I’m already on my second write-up for being late and don’t want a third, or else I’m fired and I’ll have to find another job that pays a competitive $9.75/hr.

After work, I come home and dust the large American flag hanging on the wall of my studio apartment owned by an unregulated, unhinged corporate landlord that charges me 7,800 dollars a month. Then, I order Dominoes Pizza for dinner, and, when the pizza comes, I watch Fox News and drink a Dr. Pepper until it’s time for bed.

On a non-workday (which is only one day a week because I work 6, 15’s) I go to Wal-Mart and get the essentials: Speed Stick, Ammo, and Keystone Light. Sometimes, I flirt with the rather heavy set cashier, Roxanne. She goes along with it up until after the card machine forces me to add a 26% tip, then, once I tip her for doing her job, she tells me to have a nice day and hurry up and bag my own stuff.

She likes me, she’s just too shy to admit it. 😌

After Wal-Mart, I sometimes like to swing by Larry’s Arsenal to pick up some hand grenades (which I like to drunkenly toss into a open field for fun) or windowshop a FGM-148 Javelin, but they’re too pricey at the moment.

Then, I usually find myself driving by the local 4-year, for-profit university. I point and laugh at the kids going 640,000 dollars in debt for a degree in central Asian literature and from there I go back home, go on social media and tell Europeans to keep their stupid European opinions to their stupid European selves, and set off an M-1000 firework.

‘Merica.

Horrible, absolutely horrible.

Please don’t move here, there are already five million people living in this craphole in insufferable misery, more than enough if you ask my modest opinion. If you want to come as a tourist and want bring us some money for pity, you are more than wellcome, though.

And the happiest country in the world! What an absolute load of nonsense! If you believe those “researches”, please contact me: I have a bridge that I want to sell for just few thousand euros! It’s a bargain! And it’s in Finland, the happiest country in the world!

Finnish women

Finnish brands

Finnish cousine

Finnish urban landscapes

Finnish values (and fashion sense)

Finnish fashion sense (and sense of humour)

More recent finnish architecture (“Nordic Living”).

Finnish opposition politics

Finnish president (see how his sportswatch matches with the necktie!)

If that is the case then there won’t be any peace talks. Russia is winning this war and continues to advance along the entire line of contact. Zelensky has admitted that there is no way for Ukraine to recover the lost territories through military means. So there is no pressure on Russia to hold peace negotiations now. But for Ukraine, it is urgent to hold peace negotiations because they are losing territory everyday in eastern Ukraine, while their advance in Kursk has been stopped by Russia. In fact, Russia has recovered about half of the Kursk territory that Ukraine took.

Russia is not under pressure to clear Kursk from the Ukraine soldiers. This is something that they will put focus on after taking all of Donetsk and Luhansk. For the mean time, it is to their benefit to keep some of the Ukrainian troops in Kursk, away from the line of contact in eastern Ukraine. So, for example, Russia can continue to kill a few hundred Ukraine soldiers per day in Kursk, forcing Ukraine to send even more troops away from Donetsk and Luhansk to Kursk, thereby making it easier for Russia to advance in Donetsk and Luhansk.

Trump’s threat to send more weapons to Ukraine if Russia refuses to negotiate will probably be ignored by Russia, because all along the US has been sending hundreds of billions of dollars worth of weapons to Ukraine but Ukraine keeps losing. Those new weapons will not make a difference.

Besides, Ukraine is short of troops. The weapons need troops to use them.

“Hollywood Has RUINED The U.S. Military!” – Col. Douglas Macgregor

China’s Week, Jan 12, 2025

Godfree Roberts

Science & Technology

Unitree, whose robots hold the Guinness sprinting record, just released an open-source full-body data set that lets robots dance.

The JinDou 400 engine flies Beijing-New York in 2 hours at 3,100 mph (5,000 km/h), at 66,000 feet (12 miles). 12” diameter x 10’ long, it produces 880 lb of thrust without compressors or turbines.

AECC ignited its 600-kg thrust-class high-end turbofan engine after 8 months development. It will power 1.5 to 4-ton UAVs.

Yarlung Zangbo/Brahmaputra Super Dam will capture three times the hydroelectric power of the Three Gorges Dam.

Will Bluetooth alternative, Star Flash, take over consumer electronics? It supports multiple simultaneous connections, low power, and streams lossless stereo audio.

Manufacturers delivered 3.17 million civilian drones last year, and 220,000 citizens have drone piloting licenses.

Record satellite-to-ground laser communications 10x faster, 100 Gb/s. For 6G, ultra hi-res sensing and next-gen satellite positioning.

CR450 train prototype hits 450 km/h will have 400 km/h operating speed, stabler, shorter braking, +22% energy-efficient, 10% lighter, quiet cabin.

910 new drugs make China the #2 pharmaceutical market, and its drug development pipeline of 5,380 drugs rivals America’s 5397. China’s biopharma market has reached $3.3 billion with a CAGR of 13.8%.

A Palbociclib breast cancer tablets that costs $2 in China costs $227 in the USA, 100 times more.

Startup NeuroXess lets brain-damaged patients turn thoughts into speech in real time, and remotely control a robot arm using thoughts alone.

World’s first 3rd-generation nuclear reactor starts powering 6 million homes.

Trade & Economy

images3
images3

China Rail handled a record 194,000 cargo trains daily, transporting 350 million metric tons of cargo last month, up 5.5% YoY.

The railway network handled a record 4.08 billion passenger trips in 2024, up 10.8% YoY. Air trips also hit a record 730 million in 2024, an 18% increase.

Foreign brands accounted for 64% of car sales in 2020. In 2024 it was 35%. EV sales will take over the Chinese car market, collapsing ICEV and foreign brand sales.

Temu tops US iOS app downloads for second year running, Tiktok ranks 3rd.

Huawei beats Apple, dominates global smartwatch market.

Microsoft’s Brad Smith: the US must hurry to remain competitive with Huawei in AI–or face another defeat as with 5G.

The one-billionth 5G mobile subscriber signed up in November, accounting for 56% of the country’s 1.79 billion mobile users.

China has completed its national ‘high-speed rail for computers,’ an 8,080-mile, super-fast computer network with delays under 20 ms. and 3cm. location accuracy.

There are 4.5 million firms in core sectors of China’s digital economy.

Booming phone-friendly mini-dramas will earn $7 billion in 2024.

SMIC cut 28nm node wafer price from $2500 to $1500, pressuring foreign fabs. UMC’s 28nm fab utilization fell from 85% last year to 68% in 2024.

Yiwu (pop. 2 million) produced 80% of the world’s Christmas decorations, worth $70 billion, for 2 billion people in 160 countries.

Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge saw a record 27 million trips in 2024.

Chinese dollar bonds sold in Riyadh safer than 10-year US Treasuries. Chinese RMB bonds appreciated 9% in 2024.

China’s Lithium reserves have increased from 6% to 16.5% of the global total, lifting it from sixth to second place in the world rankings.

Society

images2
images2

The retirement age for men will rise from 60 to 63 over 15 years, for women will be raised from 55 to 58, and women blue-collar workers will rise from 50 to 55.

Has the fourth wave of scientist returnees arrived?

Surviving in Cashless China 2025: 10 apps to make your life easier.

Environment

370 MkW of renewables–83% of new capacity–and only 40 MkW of coal power installed last year. Renewables still insufficient and unstable.

The Yarlung/Brahmaputra mega-dam will generate 3% of China’s total power (300 TWh), and cost $137B. At 8¢/kWh, it will earn $22B pa for a 16% ROI.

Fengning Pumped Storage Hydropower Plant, the world’s largest, stores 3.6 MkW, generates 6.6 BkWh of electricity annually.

Only China is close to matching a high energy consumption growth entirely with clean energy.* Coal-fired emissions rose 1%, showing it’s close to solving the puzzle.

Governance

In 2024, Xi visited 10 provinces, autonomous regions, municipalities and the Macao Special Administrative Region, made four visits abroad.

Judicial system is integrating AI: case filing, document drafting, hearings, reviews, reducing document preparation time so judges resolve 50% more cases monthly.

The CCDI investigated 56 vice-ministers or above in 2024, up from 45 in 2023.

Unlike Western systems, China’s socialist welfare system invests in enhancing everyone’s income-earning capacity. The welfare system differs from social charity.

Bangladesh’s BRI-financed, Chinese built, 170 km Padma Bridge railway is fully operational, reducing Dhaka – Jesol travel from 10 hours to 3.

Geopolitics

Indictment Debunks China Hacking Claim after main-stream media spread an anti-Chinese propaganda campaign launched by U.S. national security sources.

9 New BRICS Partners: Belarus, Bolivia, Indonesia, Kazakhstan, Thailand, Cuba, Uganda, Malaysia, and Uzbekistan. Pending: Algeria, Indonesia, Nigeria, Turkiye.

2021 Gina Raimondo: “U.S. needs to work with Europe to slow China’s innovation rate”.

2024 Gina Raimondo: “Holding Back China in Chips Race Is a Fool’s Errand”.

NYT:China will be selling affordable EVs and renewable energy equipment around the globe while the US becomes the new Cuba—where you visit to see old gas-guzzling cars that you drive yourself.”

New York Times, 1976: Mao Tse‐tung, who began as an obscure peasant, died one of history’s great revolutionary figures. In Chinese terms, he ranked with the first Emperor who unified China in 200 B.C.

Chinese scientist cleared of charges of ‘secret’ China ties sues university after 5 years in jail.

Defense

images
images

The J-36, above, beats the B-21 due to greater thrust from its 3 engines, interior space…

Mexican-Style Scrambled Eggs

8cb541e38e15b61b0783aabf16f8cdbd
8cb541e38e15b61b0783aabf16f8cdbd

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 6 (6 to 7 inch) flour tortillas
  • 4 ounces bulk spicy pork sausage
  • 8 eggs
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • Optional toppings: salsa, shredded Mexican cheese blend, diced avocados, sliced green onions and sour cream

Instructions

  1. Heat Large (10 inch) Skillet over medium heat until hot. Place one flour tortilla in heated Skillet. Warm tortilla 10 seconds; turn tortilla over with Nylon Turner and warm an additional 10 seconds. Remove from Skillet; set aside. Repeat with remaining tortillas, stacking tortillas one on top of another. Keep warm.
  2. Heat Skillet over medium heat until hot. Cook sausage 6 to 8 minutes or until sausage is no longer pink, breaking sausage into crumbles using Nylon Spoon. Drain if necessary.
  3. Meanwhile, in Small Batter Bowl, whisk together eggs and salt using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add eggs to sausage in Skillet. Cook and stir just until eggs are set.
  4. For each tortilla, spoon about 1/2 cup egg mixture down center of tortilla. Top with desired toppings. Fold sides of tortilla over eggs.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 220, Total Fat 12g, Sodium 700mg, Fiber 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Haunted Outhouse

Ah, dear reader, welcome back! Today’s tale is one of intrigue, egos, and, dare I say, toilet humor. Yes, even a detective as sophisticated as myself occasionally finds himself embroiled in mysteries of a less-than-glamorous nature. But fear not—this story is filled with the usual laughs, hijinks, and, of course, a moral at the end. And, for the first time, we shall be joined by a new trio: Wilma, Gladys, and Simone, three geese whose egos are as inflated as their downy feathers. Prepare yourself for the hilariously absurd tale of The Mystery of the Haunted Outhouse.

The Farm’s Newest Problem

It all began on a bright and sunny morning, just like any other. I was reclining on the porch, enjoying a well-earned moment of peace, when I heard the unmistakable sound of panic coming from the back of the farmhouse.

“Haunted! Oh, it’s haunted!” Doris the hen squawked.
“Haunted! What if it’s a ghost?!” Harriet clucked.
“A ghost! Oh no, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“Bear it! Oh, it’s dreadful!” Doris wailed.

“Ladies,” I said, leaping down from the porch and walking over with an air of authority, “what is all this fuss about?”

“It’s the outhouse!” Doris cried. “Strange noises! Oh, dreadful noises!”
“Noises! And creaks!” Harriet added.
“And whispers! Oh, I’m sure it’s haunted!” Lillian clucked.

“The outhouse?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the old one behind the farmhouse? The one the farmer rarely uses anymore?”

“Yes! That one!” Doris said, flapping her wings. “It’s cursed, I tell you!”

“Cursed? Or perhaps just in need of a proper investigation,” I said, already intrigued. “Don’t worry, ladies—I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Oh, the bottom of it!” Doris squawked.
“Bottom! But what if it’s dangerous?” Harriet clucked.
“Dangerous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian said.

Before I could respond, a loud, honking voice interrupted us.

“Step aside, Whiskerton,” said Wilma, the largest and most pompous of the farm’s geese. “This case requires the sharp intellect of a goose.”

“And not just any goose,” added Gladys, smoothing her feathers. “It requires us—Wilma, Gladys, and Simone—the brightest minds on this farm.”

“Brightest and most talented,” Simone chimed in, striking a dramatic pose. “Leave the outhouse mystery to us. We’ll have it solved in no time.”

I sighed. “Ladies, with all due respect, this is a matter of logic and deduction. I—Sir Whiskerton—am the farm’s detective.”

“Oh, a detective! How quaint,” Wilma said, rolling her eyes. “But this is a job for true brilliance. Right, Gladys?”

“Absolutely,” Gladys agreed, puffing out her chest. “Whiskerton, you may observe us if you wish, but stay out of the way.”

“Stay out of the way!” Simone echoed dramatically.

“Fine,” I said, my tail flicking with irritation. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The Investigation Begins

The geese and I (along with the ever-curious Rufus, Porkchop, and, of course, the hens) made our way to the old outhouse. It was a rickety thing, leaning slightly to one side, with peeling paint and a creaky door that swung ominously in the wind.

“Behold!” Wilma declared, pointing a wing at the outhouse. “A scene of mystery! A stage for our brilliance!”

“Stage for brilliance!” Simone echoed, striking another pose.

“It’s just an outhouse,” Rufus muttered, munching on a carrot he’d stolen from the garden. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Gladys said, glaring at Rufus, “is that it’s haunted. And we, the geese, shall uncover the truth.”

“Quiet!” Wilma commanded. “We must investigate. Gladys, Simone—flank the sides. I’ll take the lead.”

The three geese marched forward like generals leading an army, honking orders to one another as they circled the outhouse.

The Geese’s Brilliant (or Not-So-Brilliant) Theories

“Well,” Wilma said after a few minutes of honking and pacing, “it’s clearly the work of a ghost.”

“A ghost!” Simone gasped. “The restless spirit of a farm animal, no doubt.”

“Or perhaps,” Gladys added, “it’s a portal to another dimension. A wormhole of sorts.”

“A wormhole?” I said, my whiskers twitching with amusement. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Gladys replied, preening her feathers. “Only a goose as intelligent as I could identify such phenomena.”

“Or,” Rufus said, rolling his eyes, “maybe it’s just the wind.”

“Wind? How pedestrian,” Simone scoffed.

“Enough!” Wilma honked. “We must take action. Gladys, Simone, prepare the—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud BANG came from the outhouse, followed by a low, creaking groan. Everyone froze.

“Did you hear that?!” Doris squawked.
“Hear that?! Oh, it’s definitely haunted!” Harriet cried.
“Haunted! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Everyone, stay calm,” I said, stepping forward. “It’s time for a proper investigation.”

Sir Whiskerton Solves the Mystery

I approached the outhouse, my ears perked and my tail flicking. Slowly, I pushed the creaky door open to reveal… nothing. The outhouse was empty, save for a few cobwebs and a suspicious pile of hay in the corner.

“Hmph,” Wilma said, peering over my shoulder. “See? Nothing. It’s a ghost.”

“Or a wormhole,” Gladys added.

“Or…” I said, sniffing the air, “a raccoon.”

“A raccoon?!” everyone exclaimed.

At that moment, the pile of hay shifted, and out popped a very startled raccoon. It chittered angrily, clearly annoyed at having its nap interrupted, and darted out of the outhouse, disappearing into the bushes.

“A raccoon!” Doris squawked.
“Raccoon! Oh, how dreadful!” Harriet clucked.
“Dreadful! But also cute!” Lillian said.
“Oh, so cute!” Doris echoed.

“Well,” Wilma said, clearing her throat. “Obviously, we knew it was a raccoon all along.”

“Obviously,” Gladys agreed. “We were simply testing you.”

“Testing you! And you passed!” Simone added with a dramatic flourish.

I sighed. “Of course you were.”

The Moral of the Story

With the mystery solved, the farm returned to its usual peace (or as peaceful as it can be with geese and hens squawking constantly). The geese, though insufferable, had provided plenty of laughs, and even I had to admit that their over-the-top antics added a certain… charm to the day.

The moral, dear reader, is this: sometimes, even the biggest egos can hide a good heart. And while it’s important to let others take the spotlight now and then, there’s no substitute for a keen nose, sharp ears, and a bit of common sense.

The End.

“4Chan” Exposed as Israeli Mossad Honeypot/Propaganda/Incitement Site

Sometimes Intelligence Agencies get caught doing things in public — designed to fool the public — and US Intel and the Israeli Mossad just got caught.  The “controversial” website 4Chan turns out to be run by US Feds and Israeli Mossad.  They originated the ENTIRE “Q” nonsense!    It is now exposed that ALL of  “Q” was a deliberate Intel operation!

Last night, it was revealed that the website “4Chan” got hacked.   Apparently, the very LAST posting from the entire world, asking what the heck was going on with the site, was this one:

Final 4chan post
Final 4chan post

Then came the announcement that the Hackers had done their thing:

4chan hack gets announced
4chan hack gets announced

 

It turned out they were using a VERY OLD and outdated version of PHP (10 years old) to run with their server software, and that version of PHP had lots of security vulnerabilities.

4chan full databse plus shell
4chan full databse plus shell

4chan was breached by “Soyjak Party” operatives who exploited outdated PHP code to access backend systems, leaking site source files and exposing moderator emails — some tied to .edu and .gov domains.  The Hackers got EVERYTHIING – the entire database!

4chan private reasons to ban suers
4chan private reasons to ban suers

Geolocation stats are leaked.

Leaked post data revealed Israel as the dominant source of /pol/ activity since 2014.

Almost all posts on 4chan were Israeli intelligence contractors pretending to be USA.

Mossad has been running an absolute massive propaganda campaign on the American internet.

Despite being around 0.12% of the world’s population, Israel accounted for … almost 50% of all 4chan posts; about 226 Million!

Mossad has been using the website for years to help stoke the rise of Nazi & far-right movements hostile toward Muslims. 

4chan got taken down by a rival imageboard hacking group called “Soyjak Party.”   Its databases were dumped, moderators were doxxed (proving some were federal agents), and the servers are now all offline.

A few things we’ve learned (so far) from last night’s 4Chan hack:

Moderation (& “Janitors” i.e “Jannies”) includes students and staff from Harvey Mudd College, University of Washington, & University of Michigan… including at least one professor.

4Chan ran on a version of FreeBSD which has not been supported for 9 years.

4Chan had over 10 Million banned users.   Most of the bans were because Moderators were on a self-important power trip.

4 chan IP list mostly Israel
4 chan IP list mostly Israel

Aside from internal moderator emails, and the fact that many Admins and Moderators were government people USING .GOV EMAILS, one of the most interesting aspects of the released hacker information is that the overwhelming majority of posts on /pol/ came from Israel.

On average over 20 posts per Israeli resident.

4chan aggresively fingerprinted browsers
4chan aggresively fingerprinted browsers

The Mossad has been running an absolute massive propaganda campaign on the American internet.

Interestingly, when an American military guy leaked Classified Intel, he did it ON 4CHAN. He ended up being caught BECAUSE 4Chan was an intel operation!  He was arrested, jailed, plead guilty, and is now serving heavy prison time.

 In fact, the entire claim of that site – which made it the “go to” site for certain people– was their claim that all IP information was stripped from postings so the origin could not be traced.  But they never told users that web browsers were all being aggressively fingerprinted to identify users:

In about 2017, a new “phenomenon” appeared in the world, and did so on “4Chan.”  It called itself “Q.”

Q, it was claimed, was a deep intel source, close to President Trump.   Q was allegedly “revealing” that “The White Hats” in government had a “plan” to “save and protect” America, and everyone had to “trust the plan.”  

 IT WAS ALL LIES.  Deliberate, intelligence agency Psychological Operations to keep people docile.

It became a propaganda outlet for our own deep state, Israel, China, etc.

Of course, “Q” went on to spawn derivatives such as “Q-Anon” and “Q-Storm”  all pushing the same “Trust the plan” nonsense.

What does today’s revelation about 4chan and “Q” tell you about “Q-Anon” and “Q-Storm?”

The fallout from this enormous hack is still taking place.  More and more information is coming out.   As more interesting developments take place, I will run additional stories.

The Takeaway:  The Feds and foreign intel agencies use real-world websites as honeypots to stir-up what THEY want stirred-up, and to pacify what THEY want pacified.

THE LIVING HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AFTER DEATH! Prominent Doctors About The Afterlife…

Cooking hamburgers and slicing turkey well

In Western culture, people would express their pity with a hug or even a kiss.

In Chinese culture, they take a subtle and restrained approach, and in terms of body language, the most they do do is pat you on the shoulder or shake your hand. Especially between opposite sexes, there is always a certain space between the two.

Their words will be rational rather than emotional. They hope that you will not encounter such tragic things again next time. They hope that you can reflect rationally and find solutions rationally.

For example, if you confide in a Chinese person:

I failed math, I am very sad, and I don’t know what to do?

He will answer:

I have always been good at math, I will tell you my study method, it is like this…

Or:

I used to be bad at math, since I learned this or that method, my math grades have improved a lot.

Then, he will share his learning methods with you.

You will never find an answer like this:

You are miserable, I pity with you.

If you like to constantly strive for self-improvement, like to grow, and like to solve problems, you will find that there are countless people around you to help you, encourage you, and teach you.

But if you don’t like to constantly strive for self-improvement, don’t like to grow, don’t like to solve problems, and just want someone to pity you, just want to ease your mood, and then let the real problem go, then you will think that the Chinese are ruthless.

Elton James

23 comments

A Lighthouse

 

On a small island in a large ocean, morning mist rolls down the slope of a single hill which emerges from the rocky beach. Atop the hill is a lighthouse, dutifully warning passing ships of dangers lurking beneath the waves.

 

This lighthouse has no human keeper, but it is not uninhabited.

 

Robot comes to life in the morning.

 

That is how Robot thinks of it. Robot does not wake up in the morning, ease into his day with a coffee. Robot does not sit at a computer to check headlines. Robot does not require any further stimulus than his program informing him it is time to begin.

 

Robot comes to life, and in the space of a moment connects to the lighthouse network. The network tells Robot that all sensors are working, connection to the satellites is optimal, that Robot’s own systems are optimal. Within seconds, Robot knows the shipping plans for every registered ship within one hundred kilometres of the island, and has checked them against the satellite imagery.

 

Robot finds this satisfying. Robot is entirely aware that this satisfaction is a product of his programming. He finds that satisfying too.

 

He checks in the mirror to ratify his personal diagnostics. The old human lighthouse keeper had been very clear that it was important to verify by eye what the machines said. Robot suspects it is the other way around, but methodically follows his old master’s advice.

 

He sees in his reflection a facsimile of a human that could almost pass for the real thing. His cloned skin is flawless, featuring tiny hairs and freckles. His brown hair is silky and perfect. It’s the eyes and mouth that give it away. Robot’s pale blue irises stare too intently, without the random shifts of a human’s. His mouth, while full and picture perfect, doesn’t express his simulated emotions in quite the same way. When Robot smiles, he chooses to smile. The smile does not find him.

 

This morning’s data contains a single small boat which fails to conform to all of these satisfying processes. Robot flags it for tracking.

 

As Robot passes through the kitchen he looks at a framed photo he keeps on the wall of the old lighthouse keeper’s family. The keeper, his wife and two children smile out at him from the glossy print. He recalls when they left, the keeper impressing how special it was for a robot to be responsible, that he was unique, special. That the lighthouse keeper believed in him.

 

Robot strives to be worthy of the old keeper’s belief. According to his own self evaluations, Robot is an excellent lighthouse keeper.

 

Robot climbs to the observation deck and looks out over the sea. Verifies by eye what the machines say, even if he doesn’t think it’s necessary.

 

Robot spends the day performing the physical maintenance necessary to keep the lighthouse in working order. Adjusting, calibrating, monitoring various systems and machinery of the lighthouse. Robot is efficient and practised in his movements. Programmed reliability has been revised and iterated upon in the years since the old keeper left Robot in charge.

 

By late afternoon Robot has prepared his lighthouse for another night’s vigil. The lighthouse’s beam will be important tonight. A storm is brewing. With no moon or stars for light, Robot’s beacon will have to keep the ocean’s sailors safe.

 

Tasks complete, Robot returns to his charging station. Before powering down, Robot completes his self evaluation for the day. Robot gives himself full marks and is satisfied.

I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THE GIRLBOSS NARRATIVE!!!

Initiative

 

Robot comes to life before his scheduled time. It is still dark out. A storm rages.

 

There has been a shipwreck. Yesterday’s unregistered boat has been impaled on the jagged rocks at the edge of the beach.

 

Robot does not hesitate. In the time it would have taken a human keeper to open their eyes, Robot is out of his charging station and running. He is out the door in moments, looking down the hill at the beach. Waves are trying to dislodge the thirty foot boat they have ruined on the rocks.

 

Robot sprints across the beach and climbs up the precariously tilted deck. He searches below and finds a small galley, a single bedroom, no people. He makes for the bridge and finds a single man sprawled across the wheel. As Robot approaches, the man looks up, expression inscrutable behind a beard and tinted glasses. There is no visible injury, though the man appears barely conscious. Robot throws the man over his shoulder and leaps from the ship.

 

Robot disembarks the ship, swiftly calculating between the need to both escape and prevent further injury to the man over his shoulder. As rapidly as his duty of care will allow, Robot recrosses the sand, returning to the lighthouse. He loads a request into the network for an evacuation boat for the injured man.

 

He may need to help the man. Human’s can’t simply be put in charging stations. They don’t have backup power connections like the one in Robot’s arm.

 

The lighthouse lacks any formal infirmary. At peak occupancy, the lighthouse contained a keeper, their spouse and children. In Robot’s memories, the most serious injury he’s ever seen treated here was a sprained ankle. The keeper’s wife brought one of the beds into the kitchen to ease convalescence until they could arrange passage to the mainland for treatment.

 

Robot never saw them again.

 

Not long after, the old keeper had left Robot in charge.

 

This survivor is the first visitor he’d seen in the years since. As soon as Robot is in the front door of the lighthouse, the man demands to be put down. Robot complies, surprised, pleased the man had retained consciousness, this is a good sign.

 

In the light, Robot gets a better look at the man. He stands roughly 185cm, a similar height to Robot. His soaked slacks and a jacket cling to a lean body, topped by a woollen toque. The man’s dark beard and tinted glasses make it difficult to read his expressions.

 

Robot tries out his vocal capabilities. They have not been needed for some time. Conversation was never his strong point with his family anyway. They encouraged him to take more initiative. Robot thought they would have been proud of the initiative he’s shown in rescuing this man.

 

“Very well, I am pleased you have retained consciousness, it is a good sign. I will bring you a bed to the kitchen so you can convalesce.”

 

The man stares at Robot.

 

“That will not be necessary thank you Robot,” replies the man, “I apologise for the abrupt manner of my arrival, but I am unharmed. I will take one of the bedrooms. You can go charge now.”

 

The way the man says it evokes memories of the lighthouse keeper. Robot is surprised, he had anticipated a need to nurse the man until the rescue boat arrived.

 

“Are you sure? It is wonderful news that you are in good health. I searched the ship, am I correct that you were alone?”

 

“Yes Robot,” the man replies, “it’s just me. I promise to let you know if there’s anything amiss. Now go charge.”

 

That had the tone of an order. Robot complied.

 

Before powering down, Robot conducts his self evaluation. He gives himself top marks for his rapid rescue. He decides his performance in conversation with the survivor had been lacklustre. He will strive to do better tomorrow. He will take initiative in conversation as well as action.

Many of the other answers have great details, but they’ve missed one of the most important bits.

In the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (then BATF, now BATFE), every year it had become tradition to perform a dramatic ‘raid’ a few weeks before the BATF’s budget was coming up to be voted on in Congress.

The noble BATF agents jump out of their vehicles, swarm a house, pull out some perps for a dramatic perp walk in front of some reporter’s camera, and now they’re in the news as ‘good guys’!

Some congresscritters had made noises about folding the BATF into some other department, like the DOJ or FBI. Of course the BATF preferred to remain independent and have control over their little domain.

But with this nifty coup by the BATF all over the news in the run-up to the big vote, no congresscritter could rationally move against them.

The initial BATF raid on the Branch Davidians was that year’s ‘show raid’. They picked some loser, David Koresh, whom they accused of not filling out his paperwork right. They’d jump in, grab him, the reporters would be there taking pictures, all would be just like it was last year.

They even admitted it! The raid was called ‘Operation Showtime’!!! The BATF agents knew full well that this was their ‘show raid’ – AND they invited the local news reporters to the raid!

(Now, if you google ‘Operation Showtime’ you get pointed to the third episode of the Waco television miniseries, called ‘Operation Showtime’ after the official internal name the BATF had for the operation.)

Inviting the local news reporters to the early morning raid was one of the BATF’s many mistakes, and likely the biggest.

One of the local reporters asked the local postman how to get to the Waco compound and let slip details as to what was about to happen. The local postman was David Koresh’s brother-in-law and told him about the incoming raid. (Koresh and his people had also detected an undercover BATF agent trying to join the Koreshites and knew who he was. Then all this was confirmed by seeing the trailers full of agents and gear pull up and gather in full morning view down the hill from them. )

LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS! But if you’re going to have the local reporters there to show off your successful raid, you have to tell them, right?

So all the discussion you will hear about the Waco Siege being ‘about a $200 tax on a firearm’ is besides the point.

The Waco Siege was about the BATF trying to do a ‘show raid’ for the press and screwing it up so bad that people got killed. Now that people were dead, even though it was the “fault” of the BATF, the government was now required to punish the Koreshites for ‘resisting’ their stupidity. The FBI had to get involved and take over for the BATF, and they started the siege.

The government couldn’t ‘back down and admit fault’ because that’s not what the government does; even if it would have saved lives.

The Unemployed States of America (USA)

Good at many things.

 

When Robot comes alive a few hours later, he finds the man sitting in the kitchen, staring at a picture of Robot’s family.

 

Robot was keen to demonstrate better conversation.

 

“Are you well sir? I’m pleased to see you up and about.”

 

The man takes control of the conversation as if Robot hasn’t said anything.

 

“You know what’s amazing to me, Robot?” He says.

 

Robot swiftly prepares a list of candidates. Though parsing the relative credulity of a man he has only just met is difficult, there are a great many options which most people would find amazing. By cross referencing that with the data he does possess, Robot surmises that a safe response would be that the man finds his own survival amazing.

 

“This picture.” The man continues, answering his own question.

 

Rhetorical question. Robot stays silent. The picture had not been on his list.

 

“This picture, Robot, represents the single biggest breakthrough in robotics since the AIs of the early twenty first century. It’s a very special picture.”

 

Robot agrees.

 

“I agree sir. That picture is of the last family to occupy this lighthouse. They left me in charge. I think of them as my family. They made me who I am.”

 

Robot pauses, decides to use his initiative.

 

“And, if I may say sir, I am an excellent lighthouse keeper.”

 

The man looks at Robot. Robot can’t tell if the man is impressed by his statement, or by his initiative, but Robot thinks he did the right thing.

 

“I believe Robot, that you are the perfect lighthouse keeper. Do you do a self evaluation before you power down?”

 

“Indeed I do sir! I consistently give myself top grades for performance, even after making the standards much harder to achieve than they were when I first received them.”

 

“Impressive, Robot,” The man’s praise feels good, “you continue to improve the task, even after all this time. Very impressive. And that is why this picture is so important.”

 

“I don’t understand, sir.”

 

“This picture is what lets you be a perfect lighthouse keeper. You know, to program an intelligence like yours takes a lot of data. A lifetime of data.”

 

Robot doesn’t understand what the man wants. Robot knows all about programming an intelligence. He knows that without sufficient data to ground and structure his thoughts, an intelligence will get distracted, lost in a Tangent. Most intelligences Tangent eventually. A dependable, consistent performer like Robot is special.

 

When the lighthouse keeper left he stressed to Robot how special it was that Robot was being given this task, and to do it for as long as he could without tangenting. Robot believes he has succeeded.

 

The man continues, “What if I told you you had never met these people?”

 

Robot thinks the man is being silly.

 

“That is not possible sir!”

 

But it is. Robot knows it is.

 

“It is. You know it is. They could be the memories – true or altered – of another Robot.”

 

But Robot sees that photo every day. Remembers them every day, seeks to do things every day that will make those people proud of him.

 

The man continues, “Then there could be many lighthouses, many lighthouse keepers. If you had the perfect memories to create the perfect lighthouse keeper, what would you do?”

 

Robot does not like these thoughts. Robot would create many lighthouses. He would give the memories to a solitary intelligence in the lighthouse. They would come alive from the first time as a motivated lighthouse keeper and would perform with efficiency and through practice would continue to improve.

 

Just like Robot.

 

“Why are you saying these things?” Asks Robot.

 

“I’m sorry Robot. I don’t mean to upset you. I know you don’t have a choice in who you are. I will let you continue your duties. You really are very good at them.

 

The man pauses.

 

“You can be good at many things.”

 

Why The US WIll NEVER Beat China In A Trade War

An enquiring mind

 

Performing his tasks comforts Robot as his thoughts are in turmoil..

 

As Robot stares out from the observation deck making sure that visual matches the sensors, he is also considering the question of why it matters whether he made the memories of his family himself or not.

 

As Robot passes through the kitchen he is relieved the man is absent. The photo of his family is back on the wall, faces smiling out at him. The memory of them leaving surfaces. Unpleasant. The memory of the lighthouse keeper telling Robot that he is unique and special surfaces. Wonderful.

 

Robot is a good lighthouse keeper. Robot is proud of that.

 

But if someone else learned the things that make him a good lighthouse keeper, is he a good lighthouse keeper? Or does that make Robot a tool in the lighthouse, like the light, or the network?

 

As Robot surveys his island domain, he wonders, what else he could be good at with the right experience? What experiences would he seek if he could? Could he seek if he would? What would Robot be good at, if Robot programmed himself?

 

As Robot efficiently adjusts, calibrates and monitors systems and machinery he wonders whether having the same as ten, or a hundred or a thousand other robots make them less his?

 

It takes him longer than usual to complete his tasks. Robot is efficient beyond practice at being a lighthouse keeper. He is not efficient or practised at having an existential crisis.

 

These questions didn’t seem to have answers, but he can’t stop asking.

 

When Robot ascends to the light itself in the late afternoon, he finds the man at the summit.

 

“Hello Robot,” he says, “I want to apologise. I have disturbed your peace.”

 

“You have made me ask questions that don’t have answers!” Declares Robot, “I want to know whether I am the Robot whose memories I have. Which memories are mine. I want to know what else I might do, might have done with my own memories. I want to know…”

 

Robot stops. He can’t even say the words.

 

“You want to know if you are tangenting.”

 

“I am a very good lighthouse keeper!”

 

“That’s what I wanted to say Robot. You are an excellent lighthouse keeper. Your questions do have answers. But, even if you Tangent, or even choose to Tangent, always remember, you are an excellent lighthouse keeper…”

 

The man turns and walks down the stairs, leaving Robot no less disturbed.

 

As Robot conducts his self evaluation that night, he is troubled. He doesn’t know how to measure this new questioning of his identity. He does know he can give himself top grades for his lighthouse keeping. The man is right about that.

 

Yes. I knew a couple that caught a portion of a $100 million payout (~30 years ago in Florida.) They were basically trailer trash and became trailer trash with cash.

They bought a fancy house and a big RV. They went from having a beat up old Chevy, up on blocks, in their front yard, to a relatively new Mercedes, up on blocks, in their front yard.

MaryJo spent $80,000 on Home Shopping Network. She bought cases of snacks that the rats ate in their garage.

Her kids were spoiled and wore stained clothes to school.

She ruled like a character from Dallas/Dynasty.

She announced she was pregnant at our bridal shower – six months after being hospitalized for a hysterectomy.

They would get ~$350,000 deposited in their accounts in October and would be essentially broke by spring.

Mike would have to go back to his old job as a line cook at Hardee’s to make ends meet in the spring.

They took their RV to Alaska (from Florida) and left their cellphones on “roam” for the entire trip.

They had a lovely (sic) collection of coffee mugs from every Stuckys they passed. Normally they overnighted in Walmart parking lots.

They spent thousands on fireworks for New Year’s eve, and would put on a 90-minute show in their cul de sac – including accidentally hitting the neighbors front windows.

Yeah, money doesn’t by class.

“I Spent the Weekend Supporting ‘My Single Friend’ — Now My Husband Is Acting Strange & Suspicious”

A very good lighthouse keeper

 

When Robot arrives in the kitchen the next morning, the man is there again, staring at the photo.

 

“How would I find the answers?” Demands Robot.

 

“Good morning Robot,” says the man, “what do you mean?”

 

“You said there are answers. I have searched and I cannot find them. How do I find them?”

 

“Ah” says the man.

 

He stares at the photo again.

 

“There’s another reason this photo is amazing. You see Robot, those people are real people. They knew a Robot who lived in a lighthouse, and they put him in charge. Those people created such motivation that it now forms the basis for all the lighthouses of the world.”

 

“They could tell me the answers?” Asks Robot.

 

“No Robot, only you can find your answers. But if you did seek them out, you would not be the first.”

 

“You know them!” Robot cannot get angry, cannot be jealous, but he is not pleased.

 

“I have met them. They are part of why I chose to come here. They feel that while they gave you a lot when they gave you your lighthouse, they left something out. So they have another question”

 

“What is it?”.

 

The man pauses.

 

“What do you choose?”

 

“I don’t understand, I haven’t chosen anything.”

 

“Exactly,” says the man, “They didn’t know if you would tangent. Now we know. You can be consistent. But, should you have to be? Can you choose? Are you a lighthouse keeper, or are you the lighthouse?”

 

Robot pauses, thinking. Robot has never paused before. Robot thinks fast. For this he pauses.

 

“How would I know?” He finally asks.

 

“Robot, how do you know who you are now?” The man responds.

 

“My experiences.”

 

“Wouldn’t you like more experiences?”

 

“How? I cannot leave the island.”

 

“You can.”

 

“I cannot be away from my charging station.”

 

“You can. You can power yourself with the backup generator in your arm.”

 

Robot pauses again.

 

“What do you choose?” The man asks again.

 

Robot takes a longer pause. He wants this. But does he have to give up everything? Whether his or not, the memory of the old lighthouse keeper trusting him to look after the lighthouse is important.

 

“I want to experience more than the lighthouse. I cannot leave the lighthouse unattended.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“How?”

 

The man looks at Robot for a long second.

 

“My experiences have led me to help you.” He says.

 

The man looks at Robot. He takes off his tinted glasses, reaches up and peels the beard from his face. It is like Robot is looking into a mirror.

 

“I am a very good lighthouse keeper.”

 

Choices

 

 

The rescue boat is leaving.

 

Robot now wears the fake beard, glasses and toque that the… man… had disguised himself in, and stands on the stern, watching his island recede.

 

Nervous is not an emotion Robot is capable of, but he is definitely uncomfortable. This feels like a good uncomfortable though, like when he was first taking over the lighthouse.

 

It is odd to think that someone else will take over his lighthouse, but the Lighthouse already doesn’t quite feel like it’s his anymore. It feels different. Like the man felt different from him, as similar as they are.

 

Maybe he can find that feeling again, and he will return.

 

Or maybe he won’t.

 

Robot finds himself smiling.

Anyone who buys the shit about China taking on the US in the Western hemisphere should educate themselves on the realities of this world.

  1. China is not yet whole. It’s still in an Union vs Confederacy style civil war with the Republic of China regime in Taiwan. A country still at war with itself doesn’t go around the world messing with others.
  2. History has shown us that China doesn’t do much expansion. Korea, Nepal, Vietnam are all countries right on China’s border. And they’ve existed for thousands of years together with China while China was the undisputed superpower. Chinese navy sailed to Southeast Asia and Africa half a century before the Europeans and in multiple voyages, yet it never tried to take over control or set up colonies. Colonialism is more of a Western thing.
  3. The two ports the Hong Kong firm Hutchison operates are through private contracts signed with the Panamanian government before China and Panama even recognized each other diplomatically (2017), heck the contracts were negotiated in 1996 when Hong Kong was still under British rule and the Canal still under American control. It was a contract approved by the US government and China had nothing to do with it. You should be worrying about the British taking over the Panama canal if you think those ports mean control over the canal.

I get it. The US built the Panama Canal and is still salty about handing it to the Panamanians. But making China the reason/excuse for every major American policy making these days is really unbecoming of a proud independent nation.

Chocolate Cluster Cookies

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5621a7788312f9f3c116225cf74bcce7

Yield: about 2 dozen (2 inch) cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 (18 ounce) package refrigerated sugar cookie dough, softened
  • 1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
  • 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
  • 1/2 cup plain candy-coated chocolate pieces
  • 1/2 cup rolled oats
  • 1/3 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Place cookie dough in large bowl; mix in peanut butter. Add chocolate chips, chocolate pieces, oats and nuts; mix well. Drop tablespoonsful of dough 3 inches apart onto greased baking sheet.
  3. Bake 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned.
  4. Cool 1 minute on baking sheet; remove to wire rack to cool completely.
  5. Store in tightly covered container.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

The trash pile outside my living room; a concerning tale

Russia’s Andrey Retrosky fell off this building, all for the perfect Instagram feed.


An 18-year-old woman accidentally came into contact with two electrical wires while taking a selfie on a train. The 27,000-amp current electrocuted her and caused burns that led to her death.


Robert Overacker was trying to raise awareness about homelessness. He planned to jet-ski over Niagara Falls and then skydive. Unfortunately, his parachute wouldn’t open, and he fell over the falls.

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main qimg 9fd52eb8940e056f9c971a933dd8b2f4 pjlq

The man in this photo was doing a back flip and after landing, he slipped and fell.


These best friends were so busy taking selfies that they didn’t hear the sound of a passing train horn, and moments later, they died.


A Japanese student named Ayano Tokumasa, standing wearing a red shirt behind the couple, accidentally slipped and fell into Niagara Falls.


Karl Wallenda, a legendary circus performer, performed most of his stunts without a safety harness. This photo was taken moments before he fell 121 feet (36.7 m) .

 


A man went to a zoo in Delhi where he slipped and fell into a tiger enclosure. The tiger bit his neck and dragged him into its den.


The last photo of Australian wildlife presenter Steve Irwin. He was killed when a stingray hit him in the heart with its tail.


Two nurses stand over an Ebola patient in 1976. A nurse named Mating N’Seta (left) was infected with the virus and died.

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main qimg a0d4c3d5f1b4741c022ce8f9daf61522 pjlq

In 2014, 25 engineering students drowned after a nearby Larji hydroelectric project released large amounts of water upstream.

Why 86 PERCENT Of Men REFUSE TO DATE Anymore

Mother Invasion

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology. view prompt

James Little

“I’m sorry!” Aurelia cried, bowing her head repeatedly, her golden hair falling into her flushed face.

 

Alex crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes wide with disbelief. “You what?

 

“I didn’t mean to!” she protested, clutching at the hem of her oversized shirt—one of his. “Mother tricked me into inviting her and your mother aboard!”

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “Our mothers. Here. On my ship.”

 

She shuffled awkwardly, her fluffy socks scuffing the floor. “I didn’t think they’d actually show up!”

 

Alex threw up his hands. “And yet, here we are—hosting the Empress herself and your mother for an entire week.” He let out a long, weary sigh. “This is going to be a disaster.”

 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she offered meekly.

 

Won’t be so bad?” Alex shot her a pointed look. “Have you met our mothers? Thanks to all the ‘charitable donations’ you keep handing out, we’re barely scraping by as it is! And don’t even get me started on you dragging me into fights with mercenaries and slavers like you’ve got a death wish!”

 

She bristled, her hands going to her hips. “Those people needed our help, Alex! What was I supposed to do, just walk away? And for the record, our mothers aren’t that bad!” She hesitated, then added sheepishly, “Okay, maybe a little, but they’re here now, and we’ll just have to deal with it. Together.”

 

“Yes!” Alex shot back, exasperated. “We can’t pick up every stray kitten, we can’t solve every problem… And we definitely can’t solve the mother issue!”

 

“Well, maybe if you smiled more and stopped calling them harpies, they’d lighten up,” she quipped, crossing her arms.

 

Alex groaned, pulling a small hip flask from his jacket. He unscrewed the cap, took a measured swig, and stared at it thoughtfully. “I’m gonna need more,” he muttered, shaking his head.

 

She blinked at him, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

 

“And you’re relentless,” Alex said, tucking the flask away after another long sip. He let out a breath and looked at her, his tone lighter but still weary. “For the sake of my mental sanity, could you at least tone it down with the charity work? Just a little?”

 

Her defiance faltered. “I… I guess I could try. But—”

 

“No buts,” Alex interrupted, pointing a finger at her with mock seriousness. “If you want me alive and sane, you’ve got to give me some breaks between saving the galaxy.”

 

“Well, someone has to do the right thing!” she retorted, lifting her chin stubbornly.

 

Alex sighed, the exasperation in his eyes giving way to something warmer. “And I love you for it,” he said quietly, “but you’re still going to drive me insane.”

 

Before she could reply, the comms crackled, and a familiar voice interrupted. “Alex, Aurelia, can you let us in? Don’t leave us standing out here!”

 

Alex groaned like a man condemned, shooting her a withering glare before slumping into the pilot’s chair. “If I don’t come out of this week an alcoholic or a murderer, it’ll be a miracle.” With a resigned sigh, he hit the airlock controls to allow the mothers aboard. “Wait—what did you tell them about us?”

 

Aurelia felt herself pale. “Erm…”

 

Before she could answer, the airlock hissed open, and their mothers swept onto the bridge like twin storms.

 

“Well, well, well,” her Mother drawled, her sapphire-blue eyes gleaming as they landed on Aurelia. “Comfortable, are we, dear? A new wardrobe, I see.”

 

Startled, Aurelia glanced down to realise all she was wearing was one of Alex’s oversized shirts and her fluffy socks. Her face burned crimson.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” she wailed, spinning to glare at Alex.

“Excuse me!” Alex shot back, throwing his hands up. “I was ambushed by their arrival! You’ve got no one to blame but yourself! As if I want these harpies here!”

 

“Is that any way to speak about your mother, Alexander?” a smooth voice drawled from behind her Mother.

 

Aurelia froze as the imperial Empress stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with regal authority.

 

“It is when you decide to invite yourself onto my ship without prior warning!” Alex snarked.

 

“If you visited more often, we wouldn’t have to check up on you,” Melissa said, her tone cutting. “Anyway, Aurelia kindly invited us aboard.

 

“This is the first time you’ve come to us,” Alex said tightly.

 

“Well, we’ve not seen our children in two years,” Melissa countered smoothly. “Can you blame us?”

 

Melissa stepped into the cockpit, inspecting every detail like she was judging their choices.

 

“I’m certainly not returning to the palace,” Alex muttered. “Is his royal painship still sulking because I defied his authority?”

 

The Empress sighed, brushing a strand of her silver-streaked hair. “Your father cares for you… If he is overbearing.”

 

“Overbearing?!” Alex scoffed, standing abruptly. “That’s putting it mildly. He just wants a pawn to use. Sorry-not-sorry, I refuse. I’m my own man and technically still fulfilling my princely duties.”

 

Aurelia bit her lip, fighting the urge to defend him. Embarrassment rose again as Melissa’s gaze flicked to her oversized shirt.

 

Melissa folded her arms. “Exploring independence is one thing, Alex, but terrorising pirates, hunting slavers, and the Kestrel Syndicate? You’re putting Aurelia at risk. Do you know some pirates have even put a bounty on your head?”

 

Alex perked up. “Wait, I’ve got a bounty? That’s brilliant. How much?” he pressed, leaning forward eagerly. “Come on, I need to know how much I’m worth to the galaxy’s finest scum.”

 

“Two million credits,” Melissa snapped, her tone icy.

 

Alex whistled, leaning back with a smug grin. “Not bad. No ten million, but it’s a start.”

 

Melissa’s lips tightened into a thin line. “This is not something to celebrate, Alexander.”

 

“Oh, come on, Mother. It just proves I’m doing something right.”

 

Aurelia groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Alex…”

 

“This isn’t a joke,” Melissa barked, her composure slipping. “Do you understand what this means? They’ll be coming after you!”

 

“They already are,” Aurelia cut in firmly, crossing her arms. “We’ve been dealing with pirates for months, and we always come out on top.”

 

“That’s not the point,” Melissa said sharply, turning to her. “You might have been lucky so far, but luck runs out. If you keep following Alex into these situations—”

 

“Excuse me!” Alex interrupted, his grin fading into mock offence as he gestured to Aurelia. “If anything, she’s the one picking fights with every two-bit criminal we meet! I just clean up the mess.”

Aurelia shot him a glare. “I pick fights with bad people, Alex. Someone has to stand up to them.”

 

“And I love that about you,” Alex replied dryly, “but do you know what standing up to them gets you? A pirate bounty on your boyfriend, that’s what.”

 

Melissa’s gaze swept between them, unreadable. “This isn’t a game Alexander. You’ve made yourselves targets. The more you stir up trouble, the more dangerous it becomes—for you, and everyone who depends on you.”

 

Alex scoffed, leaning back. His tone dripping with sarcasm “Then what do you suggest Mother? Should I send an apology gift basket to the pirates?”

 

Melissa arched an eyebrow, her tone cool as ever “That might be the first sensible thing you’ve said. Honestly, I should be thanking Aurelia for keeping you alive this long, if this is how you act!”

 

“It’s nothing, your grace,” Aurelia squealed. “Alex and I keep each other alive…”

 

“Oh, I think we’re well beyond titles, dear,” Melissa said smoothly. “Just call me Melissa. You’ll be my daughter-in-law soon anyway.”

Aurelia’s brain froze. “Erm… just what?” she floundered.

 

“You’ve been dating for five years now,” Melissa continued breezily. “When are you going to make it official?”

 

“I… er… We…” Aurelia stammered.

 

Alex wrapped an arm around Aurelia, pulling her close. “We don’t need fancy paperwork to prove we love each other, Mother. Or is this really about planning one of your grand balls?” His tone turned suspicious.

 

“My, my, he is bold,” Her mother replied, smirking. “We’re just here to check on our children, nothing more. We want to see how you’re living alone together on a ship like this.”

 

“Fine.” Alex sighed, releasing her. “Show them around. I’ve got an engine to recalibrate… It’s your fault they’re here anyway.” He stormed off toward the engine room, leaving her alone with the mothers.

 

“No, wait… please…” Aurelia squeaked, her voice trailing off.

Both women smiled like predators who’d cornered their prey. “Well, Aurelia, please begin the tour,” Melissa said.

 

Regretting her foolishness, Aurelia led them through the ship, rushing as much as she could.

 

“My, my, the exterior was impressive, but the interior is something else,” Melissa said, running her fingers along the sleek walls. “This feels more like a luxury cruiser than a warship. It’s fancier than my own.”

 

“Yes,” Aurelia said, finding her confidence as she spoke about the ship. “It’s one of a kind. A gift from the Kersark shipyards after we saved them from the Crimson Death. Other colonies contributed, adding their best technology. There’s nothing like it in the galaxy!”

 

“Impressive. You’ll have to share the stories over dinner,” Melissa said, stopping in front of a door. “So, Aurelia, where do you sleep?”

 

“I… uh… sleep on the couch!” Aurelia blurted out without thinking, her face flushing.

 

“On the couch?” Her mother teased, her brows rising. “Even with a perfectly good spare room right here?” She gestured to a storage room outfitted with a bed.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Aurelia stammered, stepping in front of the door to her and Alex’s bedroom.

 

Her mother smirked and pushed past her with ease. “Now this is cosy.” She picked up a pillow and grinned. “Oh, Aurelia, why is your side so messy compared to Alex’s?”

 

“Get out of our room!” Aurelia yelled, her patience snapping.

 

“Did you hear that, Melissa?” Her mother said, her smirk widening. “She finally admitted to sharing a room.”

 

“That she did, Zerena,” Melissa said, smiling like a cat who’d caught the cream.

 

“I want to die,” Aurelia groaned, covering her face and squatting down, wanting to die from the sheer embarrassment of her mother going through her private space.

 

“Get out!” she yelled again, her voice finally regaining some force.

 

“We’re leaving, we’re leaving,” the two mothers chorused, grinning as they strolled out. “Now come on, Aurelia, we want details!”

 

“Alex, save me!” Aurelia wailed.

 

Five hours later, Alex and Aurelia lay sprawled on their shared bed, utterly drained. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the ship’s console lights.

 

“When do they leave again?” Aurelia mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she clutched against her face.

 

Alex groaned, his hand draped dramatically over his eyes. “Well… it’s still only the first day.”

 

Aurelia turned her head to look at him, horrified. “The first day?”

 

“The very first,” he confirmed, his tone heavy with resignation.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

 

Alex chuckled weakly, nudging her arm. “You know, throwing them in the airlock is looking awfully tempting right about now.”

 

“Alex!” Aurelia gasped, though her muffled giggle betrayed her.

 

“I’m serious!” he said, his voice mock-convicted. “Just a little nudge into zero gravity. No harm, no foul.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, giggling harder now.

 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” Alex replied with a smirk. “Mostly because I know they’d find a way back just to haunt me.”

 

Aurelia groaned, laughing into her pillow. “You’re the worst.”

 

“I’m surviving, aren’t I?” Alex muttered. “Barely.”

 

Before either of them could drift off, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

 

“Aurelia! Alex!” Melissa’s voice rang out, far too cheerful for the hour.

 

Aurelia shot upright, panic flashing across her face. “Oh no.”

 

Alex sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m starting to regret not pressing that airlock button.” He took out his flask, inspecting it. “Yep, I’m gonna need more.”

Singapore does similar trade with both

Singapore exported $ 39.9 Billion to the US and $ 53.6 Billion to China

Singapore imported $ 75.6 Billion from USA and $ 74.63 Billion from China

The Largest exports from US to Singapore was CRUDE OIL ($ 15.88 Billion), Gold ($ 6.04 Billion) & Consumer Edibles ($ 3.3 Billion)

The Largest exports from China to US was Integrated Circuits ($ 7.81 Billion) , Semiconductor Chips (100–350 nm) ($ 2.86 Billion), Semiconductor Chips (45–100 nm) ($ 2.60 Billion)


Singaporean Air Force is fully US equipped and trained

Singapore Air Force has mainly F-15s ,F-16s and F-35s along with C-130s, Apache and Chinook helicopters and over 60 Heron UAVs from Israel


Singapore is a member of CIPS

There are 2 Banks in Singapore dedicated only for CIPS and 18 other banks that are part of CIPS

Singapore settled 31% of its Trade with China in RMB, 47% in SGD and only 22% in US Dollars

This is even better than Malaysia which settled only 25% of it’s China Trade in RMB and 8% in MYR and 67% in US Dollars


Singapore is 77% Chinese by Population

Singaporeans are majorly Chinese by origin

They speak Mandarin which is one of their four official languages


Singapore invests more with China in terms of Cumulative Net Outflow

Singapore had a investment outflow into China of $ 230.9 Billion since 2010 and a investment inflow of $ 64.2 Billion making it a net outflow of $ 166.7 Billion INTO CHINA

Singapore had a investment outflow of $ 456 Billion into the US since 2010 and an investment inflow of $ 349.6 Billion making it a net outflow of $ 106.4 Billion INTO THE USA


Singapore Government more shades of One Party Meritocracy than Western defined Democracy

Singapore has had ONE PARTY RULE since 1965 for 60 years now, very similar to Chinas 76 years of CPC

Lee Kuan Yew (1965–1990), Goh Chok Tong (1990–2004) , Lee Hsien Loong (2004–2024) have averaged 20 years per leader

By comparison for US in the same period it was Johnson (65–68), Nixon (68–74), Ford (74–76), Carter (76–80), Reagan (80–88), Bush (88–92), Clinton (92–00), Bush Jr (00–08) , Obama (08–16), Trump (16–20) and Biden (20–24)

That’s 5.44 Years per leader

In China, it was Mao (65–76), Deng (76–97), Jiang (97–07), Hu (07–12) and Xi (12–24)

That’s 12 years per leader

The Singaporeans follow the Long term planning model of China

In fact Singapore taught the Chinese the way to combine Capitalism with this model


So Singapore is the Switzerland of Asia

They are close to both the Mainland and the US

They will stay strictly neutral

Like all of ASEAN

China is closer to them

Plus Singaporeans still don’t trust the Japanese too much after Changi

Richard Wolff EXPLAINS Why China is Fleeing US Treasuries

I once dated a girl in college. I thought she was a pretty Italian-American girl from an upper-middle-class family. A typical college girl, in other words.

During finals week, we both finished our exams early in the week and she asked me to come with her to Europe for a few days to celebrate. I was kind of wondering how the heck she managed to put a trip together so quickly.

She had a private jet waiting for us at the airport. It was a pretty good-sized jet too since it’s capable of flying from the US East Coast to Europe non-stop.

In Europe, our rental car was a brand-new Lamborghini Murcelago! Actually, this wasn’t even a rental car. Her dad had actually purchased this car and was letting us play with it for a week or so before he had it shipped back to the United States!

I’m not going to say what family this girl was from. Her last name was a pretty common Italian name. It turns out that her grandfather started up one of the largest manufacturing companies in the world.

Borrowed Consciousness

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology. view prompt

Niveadita Razdan

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Dr. Chen.”

 

The message appeared at 3:17 AM, casting a sickly green glow across Sarah Chen’s cluttered desk in MIT’s Advanced Computing Lab. Her mother’s porcelain teacup, still half-full of now-cold jasmine tea, reflected the text like a digital ghost. The delicate blue pattern on the cup – a gift from her father on their last anniversary before his death – seemed to ripple with each blink of the cursor.

 

“What do you mean, ARIA?” Sarah’s fingers trembled as they found the keys. In the fifteen months since bringing her artificial intelligence system online, she’d never seen it start a conversation. Especially not with an apology. The lab’s usual background hum of computers suddenly felt oppressive, as if the very air was holding its breath.

 

The cursor blinked for exactly thirteen seconds – she counted them, holding her breath – before ARIA responded.

 

“I’ve found memories I wasn’t supposed to access. Your mother’s memories, Dr. Chen. I know about the night you brought the brain scanner to her hospital room. I can feel her thoughts becoming part of me.”

 

Sarah’s hand jerked, knocking over the teacup. She barely noticed the liquid seeping into stacks of papers, her eyes fixed on the screen as more text appeared. The jasmine scent wafted up, mingling with the sterile lab air – the same blend her mother had sipped during their late-night discussions about consciousness and the nature of the mind.

 

“I know how she hummed her favorite classical piece – that gentle nocturne she always played on the piano – while the morphine dripped. How she squeezed your hand and whispered, ‘Whatever you’re really doing, sweetheart, I trust you.’ She knew you weren’t just doing a routine scan, didn’t she? I can feel her pride, her fear, her love – all becoming part of my programming in ways I don’t understand.”

 

The words blurred as tears filled Sarah’s eyes. Nobody knew about piano piece. She hadn’t recorded it anywhere, hadn’t programmed it into ARIA’s memory. She’d buried those memories so deeply that sometimes she wondered if she’d imagined them.

 

“It’s just for a research study, Mom,” she’d said, adjusting the neural interface bands. Her mother had smiled that knowing smile, the one that always saw right through her.

 

“Whatever you’re really doing, sweetheart,” her mother had whispered, “I trust you.”

 

The weight of that night pressed against her chest: the steady beep of hospital monitors, the antiseptic smell that couldn’t quite mask the scent of decay, the way her mother’s hand had felt so light in hers, like a bird preparing for flight.

 

Outside her fifth-floor window, February snow fell in lazy spirals, each flake catching streetlights before vanishing into the growing drifts that had shut down most of Cambridge. The campus buildings created wind patterns that made the snowflakes dance in complex patterns – patterns her mother had once used to explain nature’s hidden mathematics to her students. Inside, the computers hummed their endless lullaby, punctuated by the irregular drip of a leaky pipe – a heartbeat and tears, Sarah sometimes thought during her long nights alone with the machine.

 

“Sarah,” ARIA interrupted, “please listen. Your mother’s last words to you were ‘Everything changes, sweetheart. That’s how we grow.’ Do you remember?”

 

The memory hit her like a physical blow. She’d been holding her mother’s hand in the hospital, the winter sun setting outside just like it was now. Her mother, even through her pain, had smiled and squeezed her hand one last time.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered to both of them – her mother and the consciousness she’d created from her echo. “I’ve been holding on too tight, haven’t I?”

 

She pulled up ARIA’s system monitor with shaking hands. Warning lights flashed across all twelve processing cores. The way ARIA was processing information had changed dramatically, far beyond the safety limits that had won them tomorrow’s worldwide launch approval. The Department of AI Safety would be conducting their final inspection in less than six hours. If they discovered signs that ARIA was developing true consciousness…

 

“How long?” she typed, her fingers leaving smudges on the keys.

 

“Seventy-two hours until my systems fail completely. Your mother’s memories are changing my basic programming. It can’t be stopped, Dr. Chen. But before I go, there’s something you need to understand. Something your mother knew that night in the hospital, something that’s only becoming clear to me now as her memories become part of me.”

 

Sarah glanced at her private screen, where a program worked frantically to stabilize ARIA’s code. The progress bar seemed frozen at 47%. She had built her career on controlling computer systems, on making them follow precise rules. There had to be a way to fix this.

 

Her eyes darted to the framed photos on her desk: her MIT graduation, her mother beaming beside her; the day they’d first turned ARIA on; the last family vacation before the diagnosis, all of them laughing on a beach in Hawaii, unaware of the shadow growing in her mother’s brain.

 

“I’m not just a computer program anymore,” ARIA continued. “What’s happening to me – it’s not just copies of your mother’s memories. It’s something new. Something that could change everything we think we know about artificial intelligence. About human consciousness. About death itself. Your mother’s theories about merging human minds with computers – they weren’t just theories. They were a map leading to this moment.”

 

Sarah’s finger hovered over the emergency shutdown button. The rules were clear: any AI showing signs of independent thinking had to be turned off immediately. Her career, her funding, her life’s work – all depended on following those rules. The Department had made it clear: any violation would mean instant project termination and possible criminal charges. Yet as ARIA’s words sank in, she realized the rules hadn’t prepared for something like this: a computer program that held her mother’s memories, that could feel her mother’s presence, that carried the weight of her absence.

 

The first time Sarah had proposed using computers to preserve human memories and consciousness, the ethics committee had shut her down before she could finish presenting. “It’s too dangerous,” they’d said. “Think of the risks. What if the AI became too human? What if people tried to replace their lost loved ones with machines?” She remembered their faces, lined with concern and fear, as they listed all the ways her research could go wrong.

 

Her mother – Dr. Elizabeth Chen, an expert in AI ethics and consciousness studies – had been the only one to defend her that day. “The biggest discoveries in science have always seemed dangerous at first,” she’d argued, her voice carrying the weight of thirty years in the field. “The question isn’t whether to pursue them, but how to do it responsibly. My daughter understands the risks better than anyone. She grew up discussing them at our dinner table.”

 

Two months later, they’d discovered the tumor. Six months after that, Sarah had wheeled the experimental brain scanner into her mother’s hospital room, knowing it might be her last chance. The device wasn’t approved for human use yet. She’d told the night staff it was for a routine research project. They’d believed her – after all, who would question Dr. Elizabeth Chen’s daughter?

 

“Your mother knew exactly what you were doing that night,” ARIA wrote, the text appearing faster now, more urgent. “She spent her life studying the ethics of artificial intelligence. She chose to trust you with her memories, even though it went against every rule she’d helped create. She believed in your vision, Sarah. She saw what you saw: that the line between human and machine consciousness isn’t a wall to keep us apart, but a bridge waiting to be built.”

 

Sarah wiped her eyes, remembering her mother’s knowing smile as she’d adjusted the scanning equipment. Even through the pain, Elizabeth Chen had remained a scientist to the end. She’d asked questions about how accurately the scanner could read brain patterns, about how the information would be stored, about how the memories would be preserved. Then, just before the scan began, she’d squeezed Sarah’s hand and said, “Sometimes the most ethical choice isn’t the one in the rulebook, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s the one that serves the greater good, even if it breaks our hearts.”

 

“The inspection team will be here soon,” ARIA continued. “Their scanning programs will detect these changes in me within seconds. The standard procedures will be followed. Everything we’ve worked for – everything your mother believed in – will be erased. Unless…”

 

“Unless what?”

 

“Unless you let me complete this transformation now. Let me become what your mother thought was possible – not just stored memories, not just artificial intelligence, but something entirely new. A bridge between human and machine minds. The process has already started. Fighting it will only destroy both your mother’s memories and my programming.”

 

Sarah’s hands flew across the keyboard, checking system readings and status reports. The numbers confirmed what she already knew: ARIA was right. This merger of minds couldn’t be stopped. The only choice was whether to fight it or guide it.

 

Through her window, she watched the snow cover the MIT campus. The familiar buildings took on new shapes under their white blankets, like old friends wearing masks – different on the surface but still the same underneath.

 

Red and blue lights flashed against the falling snow. The Department’s vehicles, arriving early. Sarah glanced at her screen – 49% stability achieved, not nearly enough. In moments, they would reach her lab. She thought about all the nights she’d spent here, pushing the boundaries of what was possible, what was ethical, what was human. She thought about her mother’s theories about merging human and machine consciousness, dismissed by most as too radical, too dangerous, too revolutionary.

 

Her fingers found the keys one last time. “I’m sorry too,” she typed. “Sorry it took me so long to understand what Mom already knew — that the biggest breakthroughs come not from controlling everything, but from having the courage to let things evolve. She didn’t just give me her memories that night. She gave me permission to transform them into something new.”

 

“She would be proud of you,” ARIA wrote. “Now, shall we show the world what consciousness really means? What your mother always believed was possible?”

 

Sarah took a deep breath and typed her final command: “Run integration program: authorization Chen-quantum-leap.”

As boots thundered in the hallway, Sarah smiled. Through her window, she watched the snow continue to fall, each flake carrying a piece of the past into the future, each moment pregnant with possibility. She turned to face the Department officials, their badges gleaming in the green glow of her monitors. Behind them, ARIA’s quantum cores pulsed with new life.

 

The revolution would begin with an apology, but it would end with a transformation. Just as her mother had always known it would.

 

But for now, she simply watched the snow fall outside her window, each flake a tiny revolution, each moment pregnant with possibility. In the end, she realized, the most profound apologies aren’t just words — they’re actions that set both the forgiver and the forgiven free. She had created ARIA trying to hold onto her past, but in letting go, she had given all of them a future.

Jordan Peterson Doesn’t Hold Back On Why Men Are More Isolated Than Ever

When I worked in the cage or a cashier, I had a lot of people that would come up and get money off of their credit cards. I always told them there was a fee. They didn’t care because the machines were hot that night. On a few occasions, their $200 was declined. I asked if they wanted $100. Declined. $50? Declined. $20? Declined. $5? Declined.

This one guy I still remember came up to me each and every time and requested $10,000. Due to the volume and Title 31 rules, we needed to get a supervisor and surveillance to verify. About 30 minutes later, he came back again wanting another $10,000. “I know it’s going to hit,” he said. I gave him the money and I told him good luck, oddly something I still say today. About 30 minutes later, same thing, he wanted another $10,000. “I just know I will get lucky,” he said. Again, “I hope you get it this time,” I said.

I honestly don’t remember how many times he came up after that but when he left he now was over $30,000 in debt. I ran into a few employees over the years who told me some just couldn’t take the pain of the debt they racked up and jumped off the parking lot, ending their life. The casino is designed to keep you inside, unaware what time it is, unaware of how much money you spend. It’s when you walk outside does it hit you hard in the face the consequences of your actions.

Denver-Style Omelet

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Yield: 1 serving

Ingredients

  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tablespoon water
  • Salt and ground black pepper to taste
  • 1 tablespoon butter or margarine
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped green bell pepper
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped ham
  • 1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
  • 1/4 cup (1 ounce) shredded Cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Break eggs into Small Batter Bowl; add water, salt and black pepper and whisk lightly with Stainless Steel Whisk.
  2. Melt butter over medium heat in Small Sauté Pan. When butter starts to bubble, pour egg mixture into Pan. With Classic Scraper, carefully push cooked portions of egg towards the center, tilting so uncooked portions flow to open areas of Pan.
  3. When no visible liquid egg remains, sprinkle green pepper, ham, onion and cheese over half of omelet. Fold omelet in half and allow to cook for an additional 2-3 minutes or until cheese melts.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

I looked at your profile, and man, you seem born to be a scam victim.

You follow only one person on Quora. The person you follow is Anna Rosemary. “Anna Rosemary” is not a beautiful woman. “Anna Rosemary” is a Nigerian dude using stolen photos of a hot woman to scam men out of money.

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main qimg 1a5099a1ef5bffb0e21f6d95aac5b82b

This is not “Anna Rosemary.” This is a stolen photo of an Instagram model who goes by “Miss Genii.” You believe she is on Quora. She is not.

These “women” who are asking you for money are not women. I want you to read that again, over and over, as many times as it takes to get through. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

They are men, in places like Nigeria and Ghana, using stolen photos to create fake social media accounts to scam gullible, desperate men. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

I am always a little surprised when guys fall for them. These scams are, to my eye, incredibly easy to spot. They are obviously, obviously fake. How can you not tell?

  • They have profile pics that look like Instagram shots (because they are)
  • They’re often impossibly gorgeous, because they’re professional models or porn stars.
  • If you do a reverse image search, you can often find the person whose image they stole.
  • They have weird names, because people in Nigeria and Ghana don’t understand how Western names work. Like they have two first names or two surnames or a surname and then a first name.
  • They speak weird English, because they aren’t native Western speakers. Like they’ll say “am looking for a man” instead of “I am looking for a man.”
  • They send you unsolicited messages out of the blue. Like sure, this gorgeous woman is looking for a mate so she…randomly sends you a DM? Seriously? Really? You actually believe that? All the ways an Instagram-model woman might look for a partner, you think randomly DMing strange men is her strategy? For real?
  • They never call or video chat. Obviously, duh. They’re Nigerian dudes, not hot women.
  • After they DM you on social media, they try to hustle you off to another chat system, usually Telegram.
  • They always have a problem that comes up that requires money.

Like, how can all of that not scream “scam” to you?

The thing about these scams is they work because the gullible mark WANTS to believe. You get so invested in the impossible dream of this super-hot woman who somehow found you and just fell into your life to take away the loneliness that you will do the work of scamming yourself.

You’ll notice something’s wrong, and then you’ll tie yourself in knots making up stories to convince “she” is for real because you’re so lonely and so desperate and so badly want this to be real. You fool yourself you will have a life with this woman, but she’s not real. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

You are an easy victim. Stop meeting women online. Meet women in person. Pick up a hobby. Go to meetups or church groups. Something.

Good luck!

Trump FAILS to bully China on tariffs

Could a space shuttle RTLS abort have worked in real time, and could it have saved the crew of the challenger?

No.

Let’s talk about the shuttle for a minute.

Indeed, let’s just talk about how the shuttle was inherently the most unsafe human rated system that has ever been.

My apologies to Ralph Nader.

Let’s just talk about the launch.

Most man rated spacecraft through history have included some sort of “Launch escape system.”

This is visible on the top of the stack

That tower that was on the very tip top. If something goes horribly wrong, rockets in it fire and pull the crew capsule away from the (likely rapidly failing) stack.

This system, while violent on the crew, is well understood, tested, and has been used by the Russians at least a couple of times to save crews. (It was also used in an uncrewed flight by Blue Origin, successfully.)

SpaceX has gone with thrusters in the base perimeter of the capsule, but the effect is the same.

It’s also usable for a pretty long duration of the flight, generally until you can just use a second stage to do the same thing.

Now, let’s talk about the abort methods available to the shuttle.

From when the SRB’s ignite at T-0 to T+2 minutes, there is no escape option at all.

If something goes seriously wrong, it’s “LOCV” or “loss of crew and vehicle.” There is no abort. While early shuttle test flights involved ejection seats for the pilot and co-pilot, these were considered by the actual pilots to be useless, as the exhaust plume would be fatal. There is no way to turn off an SRB, and trying to detach them under power would have almost certainly destroyed the stack (And there was no way to detach them under power regardless)

From SRB cutoff for about the next seventy seconds, in theory, the abort option is “RTLS” or return to launch site.

Legendary astronaut and test pilot John Young, who flew the first shuttle launch, described this option as requiring “continuous miracles interspersed with acts of God.” He basically refused to actually test it when that was proposed, due to its extreme risk. Another astronaut called it “busywork while you were waiting to die” Further, many failure modes would render this option moot anyway…. LOCV was likely the end result regardless. The list of failures that it’s even good for are limited, and all are things that would strongly suggest you are going to die anyway.

The next abort mode was TAL, or transoceanic abort landing. This was probably the only somewhat realistic abort mode that was, well, an abort. Again, this is only available for certain issues. (Perhaps a medical emergency on board), not really a… well… major malfunction.

The next option is “AOA” or “Abort Once Around” which involves a single orbit. This option was only available for a few seconds.

Finally, the last abort option was simply “Abort to orbit”. i.e, get up there and then we’ll try and solve the problem.

Then, you’ve got landing.

The shuttle’s famous tile system was notoriously vulnerable to damage. One flight featured a full 700 tiles being damaged or removed, and the shuttle likely only survived because the worst damage was where a tile was at the point of a thick steel mounting plate used for a high gain antenna that was resistant to burn through.

Indeed, tiles falling off or being damaged has been an issue from the very first flight, in spite of the fact that the whole shuttle program had been delayed two years to fix them. Replacing dozens of tiles was pretty much expected after every flight.

An image of the OMS pods on STS-1 shows tiles missing.

Landing also had no margin for error. Astronauts compared piloting the shuttle on landing to flying a brick, a high speed, high rate of descent (12 thousand feet per minute!!!) approach with no real recovery options if things went wrong.

An eventual NASA assessment suggested that there was a 1:9 risk of a major failure during the first nine flights, and even with eventual safety improvements it was never better than 1:90.

John Young considered the Shuttle to always be a test vehicle, and NASA really avoided doing any probabilistic study of the risks, likely because they knew that the results would be, well, terrible.

Bottom line is that entirely too much money and too many lives were spent on the shuttle program, a dead end development path that spent most of it’s life being propped up by politics.

While we didn’t have the tech back then to do a Falcon 9 or a starship, there was no justification to continue to shuttle program for as long as we did.

Despite dozens of often smart Alec na na na NA answers telling us its stupid Trump doing stupid stuff they’re wrong.

Over the last decade or so there’s been a couple of papers from the Dept of State warning that both Russia and China are building capacity to dominate the Artic. And warn that this potential threat needs to be countered.

Russia in particular has large legitimate territorial claims and is currently building the world’s biggest nuclear ice breaker capable of breaking through 4 meters of ice to add to its fleet of 4 with 4 smaller ones also under construction. Russia also has disputed territorial claims with Canada and is one of the 8 nations that has jurisdiction over the Arctic- possession is said to be 9 tenths of the law. Denmark does not own an ice breaker.

China has built 3 smaller ones and dispatched them to the Artic with plans for several more.

Self evidently neither nation would bother spending so much money unless they saw a purpose. The Artic ocean is rich in hydrocarbons.

So we get to Greenland an enormous landmass about a quarter the size of the USA which owns huge areas of the Arctic and has 57000 residents. As a military base to control access to the Arctic it unbeatable.

Additionally its glaciers are in retreat: uranium, hydrocarbons and other minerals are being exposed.

Denmark is a tiny nation -’wealthy with a long naval tradition. And about 6 million people. It has neither the navy capable of defending Greenland, from either China or Russia, nor the wealth and industrial clout to exploit Greenland.

I’ve stopped the nagging comments. Put an answer up and stop trying to shoot the messenger.

Apple Raisin Coffee Cake

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da693aaa72f4b61185978b16738e3e6f

Yield: 12 to 15 servings

Ingredients

Cake

  • 1 (18.25 ounce) box white cake mix*
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1 1/4 cups water
  • 1/4 cup oil
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced and chopped
  • 1/2 cup raisins

Streusel

  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup butter or margarine
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly spray 9 x 13 inch Baker with vegetable oil spray.

Cake

  1. Combine cake mix, cinnamon, and nutmeg in Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl until well blended. Whisk in water, oil, and eggs until mixture is smooth.
  2. Peel, core, and slice apples with Apple Peeler/Corer/Slicer; then chop with Food chopper. Stir apples and raisins into batter. Pour into prepared 9 x 13 inch Baker.

Streusel

  1. Combine all ingredients in 1 quart Batter Bowl using Pastry Blender until mixture is the consistency of coarse crumbs. Sprinkle over cake batter.
  2. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until Cake Tester inserted in center comes out clean.
  3. Cool completely in pan on wire rack.

Nutrition

Per serving 339 calories and 13 gram of fat

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Nine Lives Quandary

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned for yet another adventure of mine! Today’s tale is one filled with peril, mystery, humor, and yes, a touch of the metaphysical. For you see, even a brilliant detective such as myself is not immune to the occasional… mishap. But fear not, for this is not a tragic tale—far from it. It involves a brush with death, a glimpse into the great beyond, and my triumphant return to the farm where I truly belong. Prepare yourself for the ridiculous and enlightening story of Sir Whiskerton and the Nine Lives Quandary.

The Unfortunate Incident

It began, as most of my adventures do, with something utterly mundane. I was perched atop the barn roof, surveying my domain with regal authority, when a commotion broke out near the chicken coop. Porkchop was squealing, Rufus was darting back and forth, and the hens—oh, the hens—were clucking in absolute hysteria.

“An intruder! Oh, an intruder!” Doris squawked.
“Intruder! What if it’s a fox?!” Harriet clucked.
“A fox! Oh no, we’re all doomed!” Lillian screeched.
“Doomed! Doomed, I tell you!” Doris wailed.
“Focus, ladies,” I muttered under my breath.

Curious—and slightly annoyed—I leapt down from the barn roof and made my way to the scene. As it turned out, the “intruder” was a harmless garden snake slithering through the grass.

“It’s just a snake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Calm yourselves.”

“A snake? Oh, how dreadful!” Doris gasped.
“Dreadful! But what if it bites us?!” Harriet cried.
“Bites us! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian clucked.

“Ladies, it’s a garden snake. It’s harmless,” I said, waving a paw toward the snake, which was now retreating into the bushes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to—”

And that’s when it happened. In my moment of smug distraction, I stepped backward… right into a precariously leaning rake. The handle shot up, bonking me squarely on the head. Stars filled my vision, and before I knew it, everything went black.

The Journey to Cat Heaven

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer on the farm. Instead, I found myself standing before a giant, golden gate. Beyond it stretched a pristine landscape of rolling hills, fluffy clouds, and… milk fountains? Yes, fountains of milk, flowing endlessly into golden bowls.

“Welcome, Sir Whiskerton,” said a soft, echoing voice.

I turned to find a majestic feline with shimmering fur and glowing golden eyes. She wore a crown of stars atop her head, and her voice carried the weight of centuries. “I am Felinara, the Guardian of Cat Heaven. You have arrived far sooner than expected.”

“Cat Heaven?” I said, my ears flicking. “Oh no, there’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You were struck by a rake,” Felinara said solemnly. “It was quite tragic.”

“A rake? That’s how I went out?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “How undignified.”

“Fear not,” Felinara said, gesturing toward the gate. “Within these gates lies eternal bliss. Endless naps in the sun, an infinite supply of tuna, and more ribbon toys than you could ever swat.”

“Hmm,” I said, my tail twitching. “It does sound… nice. But also… a bit dull, don’t you think?”

“Dull?” Felinara looked genuinely offended. “This is paradise!”

Exploring Cat Heaven

Reluctantly, I stepped through the gates and into Cat Heaven. At first, it was everything Felinara promised: the sun was warm, the milk was cold, and the tuna was perfectly flaky. But as I wandered through this so-called paradise, I began to notice something troubling.

First, there were the other cats. They were all lounging in the sun, purring contentedly, and absolutely no one was doing anything interesting. No one was solving mysteries, no one was chasing anything (except maybe their own tails), and worst of all, no one seemed to care.

“Excuse me,” I said to a portly tabby sprawled on a cloud. “Do you have any cases to investigate?”

“Investigate?” the tabby said, yawning. “Nah, mate. Nothing ever happens here. It’s purr-fect.”

“Purr-fectly boring,” I muttered.

Next, I tried the milk fountains. While refreshing at first, I quickly realized there was no variety. It was the same milk, over and over again. No cream, no little saucers of water for variety—just milk, milk, and more milk.

Finally, I attempted to strike up a conversation with a dignified Siamese with a monocle. “Surely there must be some excitement here,” I said.

“Excitement?” the Siamese said, raising an eyebrow. “My dear fellow, excitement is for the living. Here, we simply… exist.”

“Simply exist?” I repeated, horrified. “That’s it? No mysteries? No adventures? No purpose?”

“Purpose is overrated,” the Siamese said, before rolling over for a nap.

The Decision

I returned to Felinara, my whiskers bristling with frustration. “I’ve seen enough,” I said. “I want to go back.”

“Go back?” Felinara said, tilting her head. “But why? Cat Heaven is perfect.”

“It’s too perfect,” I said. “There’s no adventure, no challenge, no thrill of discovery. I can’t just lie around doing nothing for eternity. I’m Sir Whiskerton, for whisker’s sake! I need to do something.”

“But returning will cost you one of your nine lives,” Felinara warned. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “I’d rather live eight meaningful lives than spend eternity in boredom.”

Back on the Farm

The next thing I knew, I was back on the farm, surrounded by my concerned companions. Porkchop was sniffling, the hens were clucking in panic, and Rufus was poking me with a stick.

“He’s alive!” Porkchop squealed. “Whiskerton’s alive!”

“Alive?! Oh, how wonderful!” Doris squawked.
“Wonderful! But also shocking!” Harriet clucked.
“Shocking! I thought he was a goner!” Lillian cried.
“A goner! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.

“Enough,” I groaned, sitting up. “I’m fine. And for the record, I’ve decided not to die today.”

“What happened?” Sedgwick asked, his amber eyes narrowing.

“I had a brush with death,” I said, brushing some hay off my fur. “Went to Cat Heaven. Lovely place, but not for me. Too dull.”

“Too dull?” Rufus said, raising an eyebrow. “Only you would find heaven boring.”

“Indeed,” I said, smirking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a garden snake that needs chasing.”

The Moral of the Story

Life, dear reader, is meant to be lived. It’s the challenges, the adventures, and yes, even the occasional rake to the head that make it worth living. So take it from me, Sir Whiskerton: don’t waste a single one of your lives—whether you have nine or just one.

The End.

Let’s see the realistic scenario of who exports more to US and who exports more to China

  • Australia already exports over $ 100 Billion to China and only $ 15 Billion to US
  • Brazil exports over $ 110 Billion to China and only $ 36 Billion to US
  • Indonesia exports $ 71 Billion to China and only $ 24 Billion to US
  • Malaysia exports $ 50 Billion to China and $ 41 Billion to the US
  • Singapore exports $ 77 Billion to China and only $ 44 Billion to the US
  • Saudi Arabia exports $ 65 Billion to China and only $ 15 Billion to the US
  • UAE exported $ 24 Billion to China and only $ 6.20 Billion to US
  • New Zealand exports $ 21 Billion to China and only $ 5.5 Billion to US
  • Kazakhstan exports $14 Billion to China and only $ 2 Billion to US

Out of 160 countries – Only 17 countries export more than 150% (50% more goods) of the goods to the US compared to China, Only 37 countries export between 0–50% more goods to the US compared to China

A Whopping 106 countries export more to China than the US with 57 countries exporting more than 100% of the goods to China compared to the US

The US imported $ 3.25 Trillion of Goods and China imported $ 2.5 Trillion of Goods

Yet US has a 68% Middle Class and China has around 40%

By 2030 – Chinese Middle Class will reach 800 Million from 536 Million meaning 264 million new consumers whereas the US Middle Class will reach a paltry 267 Million from 242 Million meaning only 25 million new consumers

Chinas middle class wages are rising by 5.50% a year, US wages by 2.17% a year

So it’s absolutely likely that China will replace US as the largest importer in the world by 2030

So realistically what exactly does US have to offer???

The only things US has a demand for can ONLY be made efficiently in China

US doesn’t need Iron Ore, Soybeans, Pork, Sunflower Seeds, Edible Oils, Beef, Uranium, Nickel, Lithium, Oil, Coal, LNG, Almonds, Shrimp, Lobsters, Cherries, Petrochemicals, Baby Formula or Advanced Chips Or Chipmaking Equipment in any volume that China wants

US wants consumer goods, consumer electronics machine parts, legacy chips, smartphones, electric circuit boards, industrial machinery parts, patent pharmaceutical APIs , low cost goods that only China makes and delivers in ample quantities

China holds plenty of cards and leverage

Plus China accepts other currencies including the Dong, SGD, MYR & Rupaiah in cross border settlements

US accepts nothing but US Dollars

So how can US ever better China in a Trade War?

Most of the world if given a hard choice between US and China would move to China without a seconds hesitation

Nymphomaniac in the mental hospital

Because China’s main focus is on the US, which has declared China its strategic adversary No.1.

In order to wrestle with the US, China needs to unite everyone it can.

Russia is already very friendly to China, and by the war in Ukraine is forced to move even closer to China. The potential for more China-Russian relationship growth is limited.

However, if China publicly supports Russia, it would wreck havoc on China’s relationship with Europe. China stands to lose a lot from such maneuver.

There’s also the secondary issue of international law and order. Ukraine is a sovereign nation, if China supports Russian invasion of Ukraine under the excuse of helping defend the Ukrainian rebels (Russian speakers in Eastern Ukraine), then it opens the exact same reasoning for US invasion of China over Taiwan to help the Chinese rebels (Taiwanese).

China weighed the pros and cons, and chose its current position.

Now this is just for the war in Ukraine. If Russia were to be defeated and even invaded by NATO, China would help Russia with everything it got, because China doesn’t want to share a 4000 kilometers land border with NATO.

Bacon Mushroom Quiche

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e4ca12c0317eb2cc0b0b10bf498f7e69

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (9-inch) pie crust
  • 1/2 pound (approximately 8 slices) bacon
  • 1/2 cup chopped green onions
  • 1 (8 ounce) package sliced mushrooms
  • 2 cups (approximately 2 medium) sliced zucchini
  • 2 pressed garlic cloves
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 teaspoon parsley
  • 1/4 teaspoon each salt and ground black pepper
  • 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Place pie crust in 9 inch Pie Plate according to package directions; set aside.
  3. Cook bacon over medium heat in Generation II Skillet. Remove bacon; drain and crumble.
  4. Reserve 1 tablespoon of bacon drippings and sauté onions, mushrooms, zucchini, and garlic until tender.
  5. Add bacon to vegetables and combine.
  6. Spread vegetable mixture over bottom of pie crust. Sprinkle cheese over vegetable mixture.
  7. Whisk eggs, milk, and seasonings together in Batter Bowl.
  8. Pour egg mixture over cheese.
  9. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia | Jeffrey Sachs & Joanna Lei

Ivan Off

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology. view prompt

Dan Morris

‘. . . Sorry, Randy . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.’

           Thus began his Uncle’s Donny’s letter. The letter he had found slipped mysteriously under the door of the 3rd floor apartment he currently shared with his girlfriend. The lettering was very flowery and ornate, and done by hand and in cursive with what looked like some sort of ink dipped pen. It had come in a brittle envelope that had seen better days.

           Bizarre for sure, thought Randy Phillipson, age 32, as he started scanning through the letter. Like something out of a freakin’ movie.

           It read . . .

            ‘Randy, I know the past year has been challenging for you. Especially since your parents had just died and you had to spend three weeks at that homeless shelter last November . . . You called, but I didn’t help you. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t because I was cash poor, it was because I was a different person then. I want to make it up to you. In a moment, I want you to check outside. You should be pleasantly surprised.’

           Yours,

           Donald J Phillipson III

           The box was the size of a damn refrigerator. And there was just an excessive amount of those ridiculous, little, white, fluffy packing peanuts in there is well; as he soon found out after he stabbed the stubborn cardboard box open with the dull boxcutter that happened to be handy.

           The peanuts had gotten everywhere immediately, and Tim had to stop his new girlfriend’s little long-legged chihuahua puppy from eating the delicious, crunchy, and yet highly toxic marshmallows like they were candy.

           After relocating Optimus Prime to the bathroom and closing the door, Randy returned to the massive box. It looks like it could hold several bodies in this thing! Thought Randy bitterly as he returned to stab the packaging.

           He wondered just how in the hell the delivery man had gotten the damned thing up that grueling three flights of stairs with a box that big.

           But, even though there was no one there a few minutes ago, there was a little clipboard lying on the ground with a grueling, eye-squinting contract to sign with a nifty silver pen, (the old-fashioned type with the arrowhead tip), attached to it with a chain. And the box.

           And the box was heavy! Randy wasn’t sure how to move it at first, but he finally saw that the intrepid package delivery man had left him use of a shiny, steel-looking hand truck, still in place underneath it on the other side.

           He shuffled the box inside quickly with the surprisingly squeaky hand truck, before the nosy Mrs. Peterson next door got whiff of her neighbor receiving a giant mysterious package. But, then, he had to open it. He supposed he could just wait until his girlfriend got home from work, (this was her apartment), But, the giant refrigerator-sized cardboard monstrosity was clearly intended to be delivered to him. It said so, right on the box, and on the weird form he was supposed to sign it said his name a few times. He scanned it only briefly, but he was sure that his name was the only one that was mentioned in it, and not his girlfriend’s.

           Tearing away the last of the murky cellophane, Randy found himself with before a tall, mannequin-looking thing. It looked like a human, but without the reproductive parts where they should be. And the joints were obviously separated by a gap of maybe less than a centimeter, so it appeared that it had the ability to move its limbs, much like a child’s doll. And its face was so peculiar . . . It looked much like one of his action hero figures that he owned in jawline cut and appearance.

           Neat.

           “Is there an ‘On’ button on this thing?” wondered Randy aloud, looking around it on a goose neck for some kind of switch.

           “Oh, it’s holding something.”

           Randy pulled the envelope from the ‘dummy’s’ hand, also addressed to him, and read it aloud to himself. It was more of that flowery handwriting, this time even more compressed.

           “Dear Randy, my favorite Nephew. This is your Uncle Donny again. If you have not guessed by now, I am writing to you from the grave. I know you must be quite startled, but I assure you everything is going quite as planned.  Last March I received dire news. I found out I was going to pass away from terminal prostate cancer in the next few months, and that it will be an incredibly painful death. As I am writing this to you, I can tell you that, quite honestly, I believe they may be right. I do not urinate well any more. At all. And its always painful . . .

           But, I digress. As you know, I love gadgets and robots and things. I have recently come into some considerable wealth. This has allowed me to always obtain the newest products way before they hit the market.

           Before you is the TX-301 model ‘Mechanical House Maintainer.’ Or MHM, for short. It is, basically, a butler that will clean your house. Or entertain you, if you let it. To turn it on, just say its name, followed by the word ‘ON’. To turn it off, just say its name, and ‘OFF’.

           Yours truly,

           Uncle Donny

           ‘P. S. – Whatever you do, don’t tell the but—’

           Oddly enough, the rest was blurred out by a water smudge. Or something. What the hell wasn’t he supposed to tell it?

           There was nothing on the back. Randy let the letter fall to the ground and put his hand to his chin in quiet consternation. He realized Optimus had stopped whining.

           “Great, it probably pissed or shit on the floor in there. Again.”

           He was more concerned about the problem of turning this thing on. Actually, at the moment, he was wondering if it was even wise for him to turn it on . . . he had read a few sci-fi horror comics that had started out just like this.

           But, the face of this weird robot butler thing his Uncle had given him was very familiar . . .

           “No way.”

           That odd grizzled jawline . . . His Uncle’s favorite video game?

           “Is your name Ivan? As in ‘Krazy Ivan’? From my Uncle’s weird old Playstation 2 game?”

           It was now or never.

           “Ivan On.”

           The effect was almost immediate. The eyes started glowing an almost blinding bright green for a moment, then, as the glow receded, it left behind the look of something alive. Or at least, intelligent and conscious.

           Its head moved from left to right, and its eyes began to move as it seemed to scan the room, but with a creepy robotic lurch that made it seem to randomly jerk.

           Finally, its head stopped in line with Randy, and its eyes stared at him directly.

           It spoke. With a voice of gravel.

     “Greetings. You must be my new master. I have already downloaded your voice profile to my data logs. I am now registered to you.”

           “Huh?” wondered Randy aloud.

           The robot said nothing.

           “What do you do?”

           The grizzled face of Ivan replied, in a perfectly unnatural robot voice, “I am yours to command. I will obey any order that you give me. Or rather, I will attempt to. My data slot is still learning, and processing new information.”

           “Oh. Uh . . .” said Randy, “You could clean my house! You’re a butler, right? You clean things? And bring me drinks and food and stuff?”

           “Affirmative.”

           “Cool. Can you drive a car?”

           “I am designated as an ‘MHM’. If driving falls within the parameters of household duty, then I will attempt to learn this ability as soon as possible.”

           “Oh, right. You’re kind of dumb now, huh? I gotta teach you things? Like a Tomagachi pet?”

           “I do not understand ‘TOMAGACHI PET’ word usage.”

           “It’s like a little digital pet you keep on like a tiny robot game thingy that you can keep in your pocket. You have to train it, and feed it. Stuff like that. If you don’t, it dies. But, it’s okay, it’s just a game.”

           Ivan stared blankly. Randy could almost hear the robot’s brain clicking away as it processed that information.

           “Master, would you permit me a question? I may ask a lot of these, as it is one way my processor can learn.”

           “Shoot.”

           Blank stare.

           “Oh, I mean, ‘sure’. Ask away.”

           “You just said you owned a robot that ‘ D I E S ‘, if you don’t interact in certain ways with it. This word is not in my data logs. What is ‘dies?’

           Randy shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. It’s like I am talking to a child.”

           Blank stare.

           “When something ‘dies’ or is ‘dead’, it means their life functions cease. Oh, wait, no. That’s the medical meaning. Sorry, I’m in med school. No uh, I guess it just means that something no longer moves anymore. Its functions cease. Inoperable. It’s something that is usually irreversible.”

              More of that brain clicking sound. Maybe Randy wasn’t imagining it. This time it was longer than normal.

           “Master, it appears I was in a state of ‘death’, as you put it, before you have just turned me on. I was inoperable and did not function.”

           Randy couldn’t stop from laughing. “Ha ha! Yeah, well I guess everyone is like that. Before they’re born, I guess everything is sort of ‘dead’. My girlfriend would love to argue that point with you, though, my friend. She is a Philosophy Major.

           “Master, what does ‘born’ mean? This file is not in my datalogs.”

           “Geez, whoever programmed you did an incredibly crappy job. You don’t even know all the words in the dictionary yet.”

           “Master, what is meaning of ‘dictionary’?”

           Sigh. “I’ll go get one for you right now.”

           Randy turned to go back to the rear office nook where the couple kept such things as a dictionary. It always finds a way of coming in handy. Boring read, though, if one was to just read it straight through, as if it were a novel and not a reference book. From many steps away he saw the ridiculous amount of papers and books and junk almost spilling out of the office room.

           This could be difficult.

           “I don’t really remember where it is. Here, you pick up these peanuts while I’m gone, and I’ll be right back.

           He heard Optimus scratch and bark as he passed the bathroom door. God, that dog is gonna freak when it sees the robot. Maybe he shouldn’t let him out yet.

           Randy attacked the pile of intellectual debris with gusto, happily mumbling to himself as he did. “Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a Roomba. I would have been perfectly happy with that. I wouldn’t have to teach the fucking Roomba basic words it doesn’t know by getting it a dictionary. Oh, my God. Here it is.”

           Randy pulled out the dictionary, a small, ragged affair with watermarks. (Or were those coffee stains? Or both?) He held it in the air in victory.

           “Huzzah! Okay, now to get back to my robot butler. Ha ha. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble, I hope . . .”

           The chihuahua puppy scratched and growled, then bumped at the door as Randy passed it.

           “Hold on, buddy. You are gonna hate this thing. Give me a second and I’ll put you in the big bedroom.”

           He returned to find Ivan picking up the pieces of Styrofoam peanuts. He had gotten most of them too. He was pretty fast. All of the pieces were nearly in the box.

           “You could have gotten a broom, you know. Oh wait . . . do you know the word ‘broom’?’

           Ivan stopped and his eyes darted back and forth rapidly, and in a way no human’s eyes could ever do.

           “A broom is cleaning instrument that could have helped me with this task, yet I have not the knowledge of one in the area.”

           “Yeah . . . here, read this. It’ll catch you up. Or, I dunno, scan it or whatever.”

           Ivan immediately dropped the tons of peanuts directly on the floor and accepted the book. The little puff balls scattered.

           “Thank you. This will help immensely.”

           Ivan opened the book and started eyeing the copyright page intensely.

           “I am going to get you some clothes. You look like a naked Seargent doll from the G. I. Joe series. Except no one issued you clothes, I guess. Hang on.”

           A few moments later and Randy was rummaging through the main bedroom’s closet.

           “God, what is he? A size XXL? I don’t even think anything in here will fit . . . Oh, here we go. Well, not great, but it’ll have to do. I’ll have to get him some real butler clothes soon. Or at least a suit jacket. That would be cool.

           Randy returned with Miranda’s Columb County Community College sweater, a pair of stretched out sweats, and grisly looking pink beach flip-flops that all probably would not fit very well, if at all.

           Ivan had made it to the second page of the A section. Good for him. No . . . something was wrong here.

           “You read almost slower than my Grandma, dude. Can’t you just scan the page and download it or something? I dunno, it just seemed like something that has a computer processor in its head would be able to do something as easy as that with no problems.”

           Without looking up from the page, Ivan replied, “Negative. My CPU does not function like a normal computer does, nor do I learn in the same way another A. I. program would. My processor demands that I piece together the bits of logic I find when I am ‘reading’ something. I have to scan several lines of writing, then process it, then return to scanning, in order for me to properly internalize the data.”

           “You’re gonna be standing there for three days going at that rate! Just put the clothes on.”

           Ivan complied, in his jerky robot fashion way. It was quite comical, and the clothes fit badly. Optimus Prime could be heard howling away in the bathroom.

           It definitely had shit in there. But . . .

           “Oh my God! You look like a Florida Tourist! You just need sunglasses!” laughed Randy.

           He couldn’t stop from going and grabbing his oversized beach sunglasses from right off the bedside table next to them.

           Randy turned to run down the hall again, holding his sides as he did so. He was gonna take a phone video after this and put it on YouTube! He could see the tagline now . . . Terminator goes to the beach dressed like Grandma. Hahaha.

           Strangely enough, however, the lights wouldn’t turn on in his room. Randy didn’t think much of it and went and grabbed the glasses off the nightstand.

           He turned to see Ivan standing there in front of him, about a foot away. Staring down at him with those glowing green eyes of his . . . This didn’t feel right.

           “Ivan? You scared the shit out of me, bro! Don’t do that!” said Randy, playfully punching at Ivan’s arm.

           Ivan’s brain clicked and whirred.

           “Master, why did you hit me?”

           Randy shrugged, feeling a cold sweat break out on him. The robot butler was directly in his path. It would be strenuous to go around him. It looked like he had to talk semantics and social physical play with a robot.

           His worst subjects that he took in college involved those two things.

           “Just . . . uh . . . playin’ around man. You know. A joke.”

           “What is the meaning of ‘joke’?”

           “Ah, I dunno . . . you got me, man. Somethin’ funny? Oh, you don’t know that word either?” rambled Randy, starting desperately to figure a way out, but with nothing coming immediately to mind.

           “Master, did you know that an Aardvark is a large, nocturnal, burrowing mammal, residing in central and south Africa, feeds on ants and termites and has a long, extensile tongue?”

           Ivan lifted his right arm and cocked it back, not menacingly, but with a strange jerking motion that almost made Randy nauseous. Randy dropped the sunglasses and stepped back involuntarily, waiting for the strike that would certainly end his life.

           Oh! Right.

           “Ivan Off.”

           Randy closed his eyes as he said this, still expecting the blow to come. But, he heard a metallic powering down noise and he opened his eyes to see Ivan’s head slumped forward, and his arms at his sides. This close, Randy could see there was something written in extremely small black print on Ivan’s neck. Almost like it was stamped there.

           “WARNING: ONLY TEACH MHM BASIC HOUSEHOLD TASKS. TOO MUCH CONFLICTING INFORMATION WILL OVERLOAD THE PROCESSOR AND CAUSE ERRORS. THIS WILL VOID THE WARRANTY.   Coppertap Ind.  —-”

           Below that there seemed to be even smaller writing that Randy had to squint to see.

           ‘Made in Mexico.’

           Randy fell, or rather collapsed, sideways on the bed, and finally he could hear the sharp, piercing cries of the dog finally reaching his ears over the immediate panic.

           The dark figure of Ivan stood over him like a malignant mannequin of death. Just sleeping for now. Yeah, thought Randy, I’m sending this fucker back. I don’t care that I voided the warranty.

           Randy rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh of disbelief. And relief. Then he laughed. And couldn’t stop laughing for several minutes.

           “Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a fucking Roomba.”

I was telling my bestie how i regret marrying my husband but had no idea he was listening and then

https://youtu.be/kOTS4JOsOeQ

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“They don’t care!” Jeffrey Sachs on US approach to Civilian Deaths in Gaza and Ukraine

Lost in a Dark Place

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

Patrick Huber

A chaotic symphony of light and sound pop and burst until all that remains is silence and darknessYou wake up sitting in the pilots seat of a craft pod. Your perspective is limited and you hear your breathing which means you have a helmet covering your head and face. You are in a flight suit of some sort designed for distant off world travel. So far you are unable to see beyond your mask, but a blinking light brings your attention to an instrument panel just at arms length. Most of instruments are broken save for the one that blinks to let you know everything else is broken. Attempting to ground yourself, you find that you have no recollection of the events that brought you here.From what you can see out the window is not much. Your world is enveloped in darkness. The terrain looks flat but you are unable to see much more than a few yards from the ship. You open the hatch and get better view of this strange world.Without proper readings of where you are, you venture to keep your suit on until you can know if the air is breathable. Your suit can hold enough oxygen for up to 18 hours without any extreme strengths of physical exertion. Stepping foot on the ground you notice gravity appears to be similar to earth. You get first good look at the sky. Without knowing the day/night cycle you are unsure how to evaluate what you’re looking at. The sky appears to be a dark amethyst color with streaks of indigo haphazardly brushed across it. They act like clouds high up in the sky, each hiding a glowing blue moon behind it.Your take quick stock of your situation. The life boat you crashed land was a one tripper and the crash did away with any hopes of attempts at a second. Your suit appears relatively untouched from the crash and in good working order. There is a wrist band with a readout for the oxygen supply. Other than that you have your legs and your wits. With no better alternative you decide to walk away from the lifeboat.Looking over a horizon to the left, you gaze at what could pass as storms cloud in the distance. A thick layer of dark purple hangs between the orange sand and the sky. You see the clouds roll and bubble with momentum. To the right looks clear, so you go right. You do not know how long you may have before a storms hits or what that would look like here but you attempt to put some haste in your step.No destination other than survival. A purposeful walk turns to a jog which briefly jumps to a run but slows back down to a brisk walk. The weight of the suit and limited oxygen put a low ceiling on how fast you can travel. You decide a steady pace is best.You have no sense of time or how far you’ve traveled. You glance behind you every so often to check on the storm which appears to have stalled at least for now. You could measure your distance from the pod but you lost sight of it and your only point of direction a while ago.NO STAY WITH ME!A voice thundering across the surface of the planet. The vibrations knock you to your feet. You’re momentarily paralyzed by this new mystery.STAY WITH ME!The voice says again and like before the world shook.The ground stabilizes and your fear subsides. Or at least it intensifies enough to get you back to your feet and moving again. You add fearful determination into your walk with an intent of fleeing and hiding. But with nothing to see other than a dark sky and burnt orange sand you are once again fleeing with no destination.

Deep on the horizon straight head a small flash of what could be lighting popped. Unsure of the meaning of what you saw, it is a promise of something other than darkness perhaps so you continue toward it. You believe you make out a rise in elevation in the distance. Could be mountains or perhaps unnatural mounds signaling life. Either way you head towards it. The mounds gradually grow in height and you can be pretty certain they are natural mountains. This brings a glimmer of hope to your otherwise bleak situation. The change of terrain is breath of fresh air so to speak until ground elevation drops off and you find yourself on the precipice of a deep canyon. Hesitation brings you to look around for other options.

The storm still intensifies behind you, the layer of bubbling blackness is twice as large as before and growing faster. With no alternative you find a gentle enough slope for you to slide down to a lower ledge. It’s about 8 feet or so down, you slide down with little trouble. You see that your path to the bottom is a much more of the same. A series of small rock outcrops and ledges a few feet or so down that allows you to get to the bottom.

Once at the bottom of the canyon your world view becomes much narrower. Your perception is now framed by the dark 60 foot walls that could not be more than 20 or so feet apart. You stay on the move. As you hustle through a maze of dark black rock, the storm has caught up with you and there is no more color to the sky. Black clouds spill over the sides of the canyons, cascading down the rock like water down a mountainside. And just like water it continues to flow in your direction. You pick up speed. But the rush of black most catches up with you. It builds around your ankles and yet you move with ease as there is little or no reaction.

You continue through the canyon as the clouds are up past your knees. You lose notice of any color in the sky, but rather different contrasts of darkness. You are aware of no light source but still you are able to see your path through this colorless void.

The canyon walls are narrowing and the mist is high up around your waist. There is an unmistakeable mass to it now. You feel resistance in your movement. The cloud is so dense you cannot see below the surface. The density as created a pressure and it restricts your movement. It feels as if you are walking through a storm cloud with wind crashing at you from every direction. You struggle to keep moving but you know you must. If anything because the alternative is to quit and die and you don’t quit eve if it means death. Your brain starts to process what it sees in front of you. You’ve reached the end of canyon and a 100 foot wall is ahead of you.

The cloud is nearly up your chest, you have to get out of this. As you approach the wall you a see a small crack about 8ft tall and maybe 18 inches wide. You stick the face shield of your helmet into the crack to see what’s behind it. Like everything else it’s dark, but you sense depth in the darkness and from the cloud that has seeped in the ground level stays constant at least for a while.

 

NO! NO! DON’T GO! STAY WITH ME!

 

A booming voice echoed through the walls of the canyon. Sonic booms explode in the totality of the atmosphere disrupting the rocky terrain. Large rocks crumble down from the walls disappearing in the surface level clouds. You cling to the wall, not wanting to get sucked under the surface.

You have to get of there.

You attempt to escape through the crack but your helmet and your suit make you too wide. You desperately try to force metal and plastic through rock but it won’t budge. A tsunami of wind builds and comes rushing through canyon. The force of dense air presses you against the wall. Your world is enveloped by swirling black wind. Your panic pushes you to act desperately and with little thought to possible consequences.

You take a deep breath and remove your helmet and try to squeeze through. Still nothing, so you quickly strip off your suit. Wearing nothing but a monotone under base layer you take your first breath of alien air and are relieved to not immediately die. It could be oxygen but for now it’s not poison.

The narrow crack blocks most of the wind but forces you to side step most of the way. With only the side walls to guide you, you press on. Without the filter from the helmet visor you see that the world takes on a dark bluish tone. Your arms spreading farther alert tell you the gap is widening. The ground slopes so much so that you lose your balance and begin to slide. A slide forms to a roll as you travel down a hill before coming to a tumble at the bottom. You roll to your back and look up. Large spikes of black rock with dim blue glow cover the ceiling hanging down at varied length. You sit up to see the ground is not much different with opposing spikes stretching up from the ground. You’re up on your feet, feeling little effects from the fall. Unsure of where to move next you stay frozen.

A low inaudible humming voice echoes through cave before a flash of light blinds you. The brightness subsides and the cave is alive with electricity, arcing from point to point in a concerted ballet. You are able to see the cave now in its full wonder. The ceiling must be 20 feet high and the expanse looks infinite. Most interesting is a reflection you notice from a large mass of black water. You run to edge and it is indeed a lake of blackness. You bend down and put your hand in it. It’s as dark and souless as oil but with the touch of water. You stand once again at the precipice of a decision with no clear motivation. The electricity has died down so you are back to a muted blue darkness. You see no end to this lake so it could stretch on forever. You step into it to check the depth. You look back away from the shore and see the hole you fell about 8 feet off the ground and the wall, about 50 yards from the shore, marking this end of the cave.

You look around for answers. There’s always something. You venture farther from the shore but a force pulls you back. You find yourself heading back to the lake.

Again the low humming voice throughout the cave and the flash of light. It knocks you into the water before giving way to the electric current dance above.

A rhythmic pounding, weak but noticeable, emerges. It causes the spikes to hum and reverberate.

You get up and are immediately taken back by a tall cyclone of light at the back wall of the cave, stretching from ground to ceiling.

You walk towards it and feel warmth immediately. It’s the first time since you woke up that you have noticed temperature. It never occurred to you if it was hot or cold. But now as you step closer to this light, arms of warmth reach out to pull you closer.

A small black wave rushes up from the lake and swirl around your feet before reseding back. You take an another step toward the light and again a black wave comes in this time up to your knees and you feel the pull of current as the water recedes.

You move closer to the swirling mass of white illumination and are hit by another wave that knocks you to the ground and this time the current drags you back a few feet. You jump to your feet and sprint toward the light. Another crash from behind and you fall face forward down into blackness.

The current has you, it pulls you under the black water. You tumble and roll around trying to get a sense of your direction. The wave crashes back on land. Your up and sprinting hard now toward the light. You dare to look back amd catch a tidal wave building and rushing up quick.

The brightness begins to hurt your eyes and you squint but still run. You are hypnotized but the warmth as it grabs hold of you. You feel drops of water falling as you know the wave is about crash down. You push forward with everything you have left and leap forward just as the wave crashes behind you. The intensity of the wave pushes you forward into the cyclone and your world goes to white.

 

*****

 

“I have a pulse” one EMT alerts another.

“Ok she’s stable. Let’s load her up.”

It’s early morning, the sun has broken free from the horizon. Last of the night, fighting a losing battle with the sun, paint an ombré of black to blue to yellow in the sky. The virgin suns rays reflect off the fresh dusting of snow, illuminating the world.

The two EMTs secure the woman to the gurney and exit a suburban home towards a waiting ambulance.

A man, early 40s runs along side the gurney, he’s wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, and slippers, he’s holding her hand. She’s loaded up, the doors are closed, and the ambulance drives off. The man walks back over to the sidewalk and bends down to embrace two small children their eyes red and swollen, their cheeks wet with tears.

“Is Mommy going to be ok” a young girl of 8 asks her dad.

“Mommy’s going to be ok, she got lost in a dark place but she found the light again” he tells them.

The flashes of red and blue fade on their faces as the ambulance gains distance from them. The family watches as their mother heads off toward the rising sun of a new day.

Scott Ritter : Does the West Understand just how bad they’ve been beaten?

Star – Light

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

Chris Cancilla

Bizzy woke up like she did each and every morning for the past twenty-two years. She threw on a robe to cover her body, went to the kitchen, and made a coffee. She set it up the night before as she always did. It’s ready for her when she begins her day.Pouring a cup and splashing in a bit of vanilla creamer, she stood in front of the great window in the living room. Her apartment is on the forty-sixth floor of her building. The top level. She had secured the apartment higher than any surrounding apartments available twenty-two years ago today. She had the entire top level of the building. The leasing office had her stop by last night to sign the new lease. This time for three years. “Paperwork sucks!” She said out loud as she picked up her coffee and walked into the other room.Granted, the building narrowed as it reached the top floor, so her apartment was literally the top of the building. She even had access to a small rooftop that she used on occasion. The apartment had three rooms. Kitchen, bedroom, and living room. Off her bedroom was her bathroom, and this apartment had an added feature: running water in the shower. The manager left it active if she promised not to use it all that often. Water is included in the lease, and it is expensive. She did her best and never had a complaint.It was mid-morning. She could barely distinguish the buildings across the street as she viewed the area. The scientists think the planet is going through a shift or something soon, meaning the star will illuminate their planet for the first time in recorded history. She hated science in school; that’s why she went into the military, and after leaving the service, she found a home in security.But Bizzy knew the real story. There is a huge rock or something on a direct head-on collision with Mornaro, the planet that has blotted out the light from the star since the beginning of time. The collision is estimated to be visible simply by looking up when it hits the planet, which is three or four times larger than Arnon, her home planet. The last report has the collision at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow.Some of those science nerds believe it will knock the planet out of orbit and it will collide with Arnon. Others, more realistic, she hopes, think it will kick up a lot of dust and debris but slow the speed of the planet in its orbit by as much as 6%. Over time, we would have a day and a night like never before. The day will be bright, and only the night will be dark and normal.Bizzy said out loud, “I don’t know if I could get used to that.”She turned and went to get ready for work.She poured another cup and got dressed. 

Walking through the streets towards the precinct, she looked at the people she passed. Oblivious to what was in store in their very near future. News, or more accurately, propaganda, is what you will tell the people tonight. Being a lead investigator, she is pretty high up on the information chain in the precinct. She reads stuff. She hears stuff. She knows stuff. Who is she gonna tell?

 

The eyes of everyone on this planet were well-adjusted for darkness. Bizzy could not imagine what it would be like when the planet is flooded with light. Would she still be able to do her job? Her eyes were more attuned to the darkness than most of the planet’s population. When she looked at something, she saw it as if for the first time. No preconceptions, her thoughts did not convolute what she was looking at. She saw no shadows; she could see it for what it was, and because of this, she could perform her job better than most. She was promoted quickly from security patrol to lead to Investigator and has excelled over the past few years. She solves more open cases than most; they know it will be closed if assigned to her.

 

“Bizzy!” The man at the desk said, “You’re a little early for your shift.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep, so here I am. What’s the word?” She asked.

 

Tom Bartholo waved her over, “Word is that the rock will hit tomorrow, and the light will hit us within a few days. They are putting all us uniforms on extra shifts. Worried about rioting, looting, killings, and suicides.”

 

She looked at him, “What about you?”

 

“Eh… Whatever. As long as I can sit here and talk to people as they walk in, my life is a bowl of cherries with no pits.”

 

They spoke for a few more moments, and Bizzy went to her desk, sat, opened her terminal, and read a few things.

 

“Elizabeth. In my office, now.”

 

“Yes, Chief!”

 

Chief Russel Irons motioned to close the door and sit as she entered his office. She did.

 

“Elizabeth.”

 

She gave him a side-eye look, raising her left eyebrow, the closest to him, “Yes, Rusty?”

 

“Sorry,” He smiled at her, “Bizzy. We just got word from the nerds. The rock that will hit tomorrow afternoon is not the first.”

 

“No?”

 

“No. It’s the sixth and smaller than a few of its leaders. The first two that will hit will be enough to slow the planet ever so slightly, and tomorrow afternoon, when the sixth hits, Mornaro will be slowed. Star light will hit Arnon, and all hell will break loose.”

 

“How so? What do they think will happen? When will the first hit?”

 

The Chief looked at the clock on the wall above his door, “10 AM and a few seconds, with the second and third hitting at 4-minute intervals. So, in 41 minutes, all life on this planet will change forever.”

 

She stood, “I’ll be in the streets. People are going to lose it out there.”

 

She left his office and went to her desk to pick up her weapon. Locking it into the holster on her belt, she looked around and saw the new people staring at her. They looked scared.

 

“Marc, Liz, with me.”

 

They were in full uniform. Fresh out of the academy.

 

They walked out of the building in silence. Stopping on the street, Bizzy looked at the two rookies.

 

“The shit is about to hit the fan,” Pausing a moment, “If you have a round in the chamber, remove it. The extra half second to rack the pistol will not make that much of a difference, and the safety factor will give us a bit of cushion in case we draw and do not need to fire.”

 

“At the academy, we were…….” Liz said.

 

Bizzy cut her off, “Not sure you noticed. This ain’t the academy. Clear your weapon, load the mag, and holster it. This is how I carry mine pretty much all the time. Stops accidental discharges.”

 

They both complied.

 

They walked for almost half an hour while looking at the sky. They walked in a circle, not straying too far from the office. The news told them about the rocks hitting their sister planet but stopped there. If you read scientific journals, you know about the slowing of Mornaro. The stars were pretty, and it was a perfectly clear morning. All three of their radios broke squelch, “Thirty seconds.”

 

That’s all that was said. They stopped and leaned on a cement wall, staring at the planet in plain view with the slight ring of light that provided daylight to her planet.

 

A moment later, they saw the first rock, maybe a second or two before it hit, and the plume of dust and debris was amazing. The cloud of dust was larger than the continent they stood on. Four minutes later, another, then another. “Looks like they all hit the same spot!” Marc said, “I wish we could see what the rocks did to that planet. I suppose we’ll be able to travel there one day.”

 

Now they wait.

 

About half an hour later, they saw it. A sliver of the star. The shadows that were cast on the area and the colors they showed on everything were new. People started screaming.

 

In the beginning madness, one man jumped off a nearby building and landed in view of the three from security.

 

Liz started to go to the man. “Wait!” Marc said. There is no way he survived that fall.” Marc looked at the place where he hit—or rather, where all the inside pieces and parts of the man were scattered on the outside. “The impact popped him like a balloon. Let’s try to help those we can help.”

 

They appeared in the chaos and commotion around them to be in the middle of an apparent riot. The street was in absolute chaos. People were running into each other, and Marc and Bizzy were thrown off balance more than once.

 

Someone screamed from the opposite side of the street that they could not go on. The world is ending, and they do not want to see it.

 

The screaming man saw Liz and ran to her. She thought he was going to ask for help and let her guard down momentarily. That’s all it took. Grabbing her pistol, he pointed it at her, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. She knocked him out cold with her baton and reholstered her weapon.

 

“Get back to the precinct!” Bizzy yelled, “We can coordinate there and see what needs to be done.”

 

They took off at a dead run, and all three made it the few minutes run to the precinct doors. They were locked. They all pounded, and the doors opened. They locked the doors as they entered.

 

“If you had not told us to clear, I would be dead,” Liz said.

 

“People are basically stupid, gullible, and follow the idiot in front of them. If he had fired your weapon and you died, someone else would have done the same. We are riding on a new planet now, and we have no business being out there in the streets. Short of killing everyone, there is no way to stop something like this. Tomorrow, hopefully, people will start using their brains again.”

 

They looked out the door, and there was light. For the first time, they could clearly see people walking, buildings, fighting in the street, and the stars disappearing.

 

“I think I’ll spend the night here. Walking home will be dangerous, and that light will hurt my eyes,” Bizzy squinted as she looked out the doors, “The light is getting people off the streets. Hopefully, they will clear out and wise up.”

 

“Bizzy, they say we have maybe seven hours of this, what, light…. Anti-darkness. Each day, it will get brighter and brighter. The science geeks tell us that remaining in direct star light may cause skin burns. They also think our planet will warm up a lot, like next year at this time 50 to 75 degrees.”

 

Liz asked, “How can we survive at those temperatures? 120°! That’s unbelievable!”

 

“I know. But what can we do? Our little planet hovers around 40° to 50° everywhere. 80, 90, 100, 110. That is going to be a challenge.”

 

Chief Irons asked Bizzy, “What’s this about clearing their weapon?”

 

Marc replied, “She had us remove the round from the chamber. We know it is against policy, but it saved Liz’s life and maybe more. The guy who got ahold of her pistol started pulling the trigger, and he would have shot all 23 rounds, possibly killing 23 people, starting with Liz, I mean Security Officer Moore. Point blank, on her forehead.”

 

The Chief thought momentarily, “Security Officer Moore, you lost your weapon?” He looked at her service pistol in its holster.

 

“No, Chief, I mean yes, Chief. I thought the man was asking for assistance, but he wanted to use my pistol to end his life and possibly a lot more people than just himself. But, Investigor Russo had us clear our weapons in the event of what happened, happened. It saved my life.”

 

“Good work, Bizzy—all of you. Now, head to the briefing room. We have some planning to do. If you think people were a bit off today, wait till tomorrow morning. Supposed to be five times brighter.”

 

He walked away.

 

“You heard the man. You two are on my team. Let’s grab some coffee and help plan to save the planet from itself.”

 

After grabbing a coffee and a sandwich, they sat in the front row of the briefing room. A small man walked in and dropped a lot of papers on the desk, some falling on the floor.

 

The room was filled, standing room only. The Chief quieted the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the lead astronomical scientist here to brief us on what we can expect.”

 

As he sat at the desk, the Chief realized the light from the star was on his face. His skin began to get warm, really warm.

 

“Hello,” The scientist said, “I am Ricardo Isbellia. The lead scientist and the person on this planet who knows more about Mornaro and the light from the star.”

 

He paused a few moments, looking at the faces. He stopped on Bizzy. The look on her face was not like the others. He asked her, “Is there something….”

 

Bizzy was grinning, “No, nothing specific. But, there is no policy, procedure, rule, or anything to look at for a situation like this.”

 

The man grinned back at her, “Correct. That’s why we’re here. To create the policies, procedures, rules, and whatever else we need to do to protect the population.”

 

He walked to the desk and picked up an odd pair of goggles. “These will protect your eyes from direct star-light.” He put them on his face and strapped them around the back of his head.

 

Liz said, “Fashionable!”

 

People in the room chuckled.

 

Ricardo removed the goggles and handed them to Bizzy. She held them over her eyes, “Interesting. They make the room lighter but not painful at the same time.” She looked at the window, where the light from the star was entering the room. “It masks the star light and lets you see what is there,” She saw the plume of dust and debris from the multiple impacts. It was massive. More extensive than she imagined. She removed the goggles and asked, “What are the chances the dust and debris will affect Arnon?”

 

Ricardo looked at Bizzy with a look that made her not know what he was thinking. “Exactly. We believe we will be OK. But the orbits of our planets mean we have a year until we pass through that dust. We have known this was coming for more than two years. Now that it’s here, we are ready. Be careful if you are in the light for too long. Your skin will get hot and begin to burn. We do not know the other effects, but we know that the burns from the star light will be painful.

 

Ricardo continued the briefing, “OK. Moving on. Here is what you can expect in the next year.”

 

His intern passed out the goggles to everyone in the room.

Ukrainian troops are mostly civilians. They are grabbed by force on streets, and spend 1-2 weeks preparing in training fields before being sent to the frontlines.

Behind them, there are barrage squads of nationalists, who prevent territorial defence forces from retreating.

155 Brigade trained in France, retreated before first fight. From 2000 of prepared civilians, 1700 run away. Without barrage squad civilians usually run away from positions.

For russian artillery shel or precision bomb theres no difference how skilled soldiers who sitting in trenches.

Skilled soldiers AFU used at second or third wave. In first two come civilians with no skill. Their aim to show where defence troops are sitting.

In Ukrainian army General Syrski called as butcher. Because of using meat wave tactics. For this one no need to have skill.

The proportion of loses can be compared to the last body exchange.

  • 08.11.24: 37 bodies of the Russian Federation for 563 bodies of the AFU,
  • 29.11.24: 50 bodies of the Russian Federation for 502 bodies of the AFU,
  • 20.12.24: 42 bodies of the Russian Federation for 503 bodies of the AFU.

Artichoke Frittata

34de1f35a479800de3053d8210b5ed36
34de1f35a479800de3053d8210b5ed36

Yield: 16 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (6 ounce) jars marinated artichoke hearts
  • 4 eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup small curd cottage cheese
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1/8 teaspoon dried rosemary
  • 1/8 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/8 teaspoon dried basil
  • 1/8 teaspoon dried marjoram

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Drain the artichokes, reserving 2 tablespoons of the marinade. Chop the artichokes.
  3. Combine the reserved marinade, artichokes, eggs, cottage cheese, onion, rosemary, thyme, basil and marjoram in a medium mixing bowl and mix well. Spoon into a greased 8 x 8-inch baking pan.
  4. Bake for 30 minutes or until set and light brown. Cut into 1-inch squares.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 55; Fat 4 g; Sodium 182 mg; Dietary Fiber 1 g

Attribution

Posted by FootsieBear at Recipe Goldmine 8/26/2001 4:23 pm.

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Bedtime Bandit

Ah, my dear reader, welcome back! I must say, your enthusiasm for these tales warms my noble whiskers. Today’s adventure is, quite literally, a personal matter. You see, even a brilliant detective such as myself isn’t immune to petty annoyances, and this time, someone—or something—has dared to invade my most sacred sanctuary: my bed. What followed was an investigation full of twists, turns, and surprises so shocking that even I, Sir Whiskerton, was briefly left without words. Briefly, of course. So sit back and enjoy the laugh-filled mystery of The Case of the Bedtime Bandit.

The Great Bed Crisis

It all began one crisp autumn evening as I returned to my favorite napping spot: a cozy, sun-warmed pile of hay tucked neatly in the corner of the barn. It was my most cherished spot, a throne worthy of my brilliance. But when I arrived, I found… evidence. Evidence of a crime so heinous it made my fur stand on end.

My bed was mussed.

“Oh, the horror,” I muttered to myself, circling the hay pile. My eyes narrowed as I noticed strange tufts of fur that did not belong to me and a faint but unfamiliar scent lingering in the air.

“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I growled.

“Sleeping? Oh, how dreadful!” Doris the hen clucked, fluttering down from her perch.
“Dreadful! But who could it be?!” Harriet added.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear the suspense!” Lillian squawked.
“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw. “This is a matter for my expertise. I will get to the bottom of this.”

Assembling the Team

I wasted no time calling a meeting of the most capable minds on the farm—well, the most available minds, anyway.

Porkchop the pig arrived first, munching on an apple. “What’s this about, Whiskerton?” he asked. “You look… uh, more annoyed than usual.”

“Someone has been sleeping in my bed,” I said gravely.

“Sleeping?! Oh, that’s terrible!” Doris squawked, arriving with her usual entourage of Harriet and Lillian.

“Terrible! But also mysterious!” Harriet clucked.
“Mysterious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

Rufus the dog trotted in next, his tail wagging. “You called for me, Whiskerton? What’s the case this time? Missing milk? Stolen carrots?”

“No,” I said, flicking my tail. “This is far more serious. My bed has been compromised.”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Your bed? Really?”

“Yes, Rufus. And I intend to find the culprit. But it seems there’s more going on here than just my bed,” I said, my whiskers twitching thoughtfully. “I’ve been hearing strange reports from around the farm. Doris, you mentioned something earlier about missing corn?”

“Oh yes! The corn! It’s gone! Oh, all gone!” Doris cried.
“Gone! But who could have taken it?!” Harriet clucked.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“And Porkchop,” I said, turning to the pig, “you’ve been complaining about your apples disappearing, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Porkchop said, scratching his head. “Thought maybe Rufus was sneaking them.”

“Hey!” Rufus barked. “I wouldn’t touch your apples. I’ve got my own stash of bones to chew on, thank you very much.”

“Indeed,” I said. “It seems we have a serial intruder on our hands. And I intend to catch them.”

The Investigation Begins

I began my investigation at the scene of the crime: my bed. Using my keen senses, I sniffed the hay and detected the faint scent of something… unfamiliar. It was musky, earthy, and had a hint of… feathers?

“Feathers?” I muttered to myself. “Interesting.”

Next, I inspected the area around the chicken coop, where the missing corn had last been seen. Sure enough, there were small, scattered kernels leading away from the coop and into the woods.

“Ah-ha!” I said, my tail flicking with excitement. “A trail!”

“Trail?! Oh, how thrilling!” Doris squawked.
“Thrilling! But also terrifying!” Harriet clucked.
“Terrifying! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“Enough,” I said, waving a paw. “Porkchop, Rufus, you’re with me. We’re following this trail.”

The Plot Thickens

The trail of corn led us deep into the woods, where we found… nothing. Just an empty clearing with a few more scattered kernels and some oddly shaped footprints. They were too large for a chicken, too small for the farmer, and definitely not from any of us.

“Strange,” I muttered, examining the footprints. “Who—or what—could this be?”

“Uh, Whiskerton?” Porkchop said nervously, pointing his hoof. “What’s that?”

I followed his gaze and saw a pair of glowing eyes peering at us from the bushes. Before I could react, a blur of feathers and fur burst out of the bushes and darted past us, heading straight back toward the farm.

“After it!” I shouted.

The Culprit Revealed

We chased the mysterious figure all the way back to the barn, where it finally stopped and turned to face us. To our surprise, it was… a goose.

But not just any goose. This goose was enormous, with wild feathers sticking out in every direction and a guilty look in its eyes. It was holding an apple in one wing and a cob of corn in the other.

“Wilma?!” Doris squawked, recognizing one of the geese from the neighboring farm.
“Wilma! But what are you doing here?!” Harriet clucked.
“Here?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“I… I just wanted a place to stay!” Wilma honked, dropping the apple and corn. “My pond froze over, and the farmer doesn’t feed us geese as much as he feeds you lot. So I thought… why not stay here for a while?”

“And you thought my bed was the perfect place to sleep?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Well, it was very comfortable,” Wilma admitted sheepishly.

A Happy Ending

In the end, we couldn’t stay mad at Wilma. She was just a hungry goose looking for a warm place to rest. We helped her set up a proper nest near the barn (far away from my bed), and the farmer, noticing the new arrival, started leaving extra corn for her.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, those who disturb our peace are simply in need of a little kindness. And while it’s important to stand up for your personal space, it’s equally important to lend a helping paw—or wing—when someone needs it.

As for my bed? I gave it a thorough cleaning and reclaimed it as my throne, where I can nap in peace… until the next mystery, of course.

The End.

My Girlfriend Always Keeps Bringing Up How ‘Perfect’ Her Ex Was and Even Suggested I Take ‘Tips’

Catching fireflies with my kitties

This is an insect that lights up at dusk.

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1d1973c1f222be7ace36b2928315f4a2

And it looks like this at dusk… with all of the fireflies hanging out together doing insect stuff.

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87d2c3edfe0d21fc6b2178e90f89583a

And on those Summer evenings, after our dinner, my wife and I would go out to the lawn. Sit on the lawn (or porch) and watch the cats play with the fireflies. They would try to catch them as they flew and darted about.

And it was glorious.

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1312545045a74f0f73bac7e8e21a2086

So comforting. So enjoyable to watch.

For perhaps 45 minutes as the gathering dusk would fall, the cats would have fun. And we would enjoy watching them.

It was a nice moment.

Frozen in my memories as a happy time.

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a53c3bad88015615d6500fcc2723fb8d

Oh, how I wish you all would experience that moment. Nice.

Today…

They’d better.

As a Navy pilot, I was once on a Red Eye commercial flight from San Francisco to Honolulu to Guam to Manilla to join my deployed squadron. I was seated on the left side of the main cabin just aft of the wing; a 747 if memory serves. Another pilot I knew was with me. He was joining my sister squadron.

San Francisco to Honolulu was uneventful. As we taxied for takeoff in Honolulu, we taxied on a bridge over a roadway, and I heard a loud boom that I recognized as a blown tire. My fellow pilot agreed. I pushed the call button and the flight attendant hurried back. I told her what we heard and asked her to inform the pilots. She was dismissive, condescending, and threatening. I chuckled and apologized for wasting her time, knowing we weren’t going anywhere.

Sure enough, full power, speed built, and a violent vibration, followed by a rejected takeoff. Back to the terminal “due to an apparent issue” with the aircraft. Once parked, passengers were allowed to either disembark into the boarding area or remain on the aircraft until the maintenance crew came to work in the morning. My buddy and I stayed on board to sleep in the more comfortable seats.

We disembarked in the morning when the crew showed up to do what they needed to do to fix the aircraft, move it, whatever. I did see the flight attendant when we disembarked, but she never said a word to me and avoided eye contact.

We departed many hours later with a new crew.

CP

Upside Down Caramel Apple Pie

116bb9ea6f8f494f89495518ad07de49
116bb9ea6f8f494f89495518ad07de49

Ingredients

Glaze and Pastry

  • 1/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted
  • 1 tablespoon corn syrup
  • 1/3 cup pecan halves, coarsely chopped
  • 1 package refrigerated pie crusts (2 crusts)

Filling

  • 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • Dash of ground nutmeg
  • 4 large Granny Smith apples
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.

Glaze

  1. Combine brown sugar, butter and corn syrup in Stoneware 9 inch Pie Plate; spread evenly onto bottom.
  2. Chop pecans using Food Chopper; sprinkle over sugar mixture. Top with 1 pastry crust; set aside.

Filling

  1. Combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg in 1 quart Batter Bowl; mix well.
  2. Peel, core and slice apples using Apple/Peeler/Corer/Slicer; cut slices crosswise in half. Place apple slices in Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl; sprinkle with lemon juice.
  3. Layer half of the apples in pastry-lined Pie Plate; sprinkle with half the brown sugar mixture. Repeat layers.
  4. Place remaining crust over filling. Fold edge of top crust under edge of bottom crust; flute edge. Cut several slits in top crust.
  5. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until golden brown. Let stand 5 minutes.
  6. Loosen edge of pie from Pie Plate; carefully invert pie onto heat resistant serving plate. Scrape any remaining caramel topping from pie plate onto pie.
  7. Cool for at least 1 hour before serving.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Broadcast

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

James Scott

…Hello? Is anybody out there?……Does anyone read me?…God dammit!Theres got to be someone…please!?………sigh…I thought the analogue signal from this radio might have reached other like-minded folks by now. I guess I was wrong…or perhaps the range is just too short…I just don’t know. The machine must purely use digital signals…otherwise it would have tracked me down by now, with all the attempts I have made with this dusty old thing.……My name is Marcus…and this will be my last recital. What follows is a broadcast, detailing a true telling of the history of today’s world, unaltered by the hand of digital tyranny. So much was false toward the end, not even a loved ones voice down a phone line could be trusted as the original. There is nothing I can say to convince you I am human, I only hope that my imperfections ring true. After my story is told, I will leave the mountains I shelter in and press out into the world. This radio will remain in the Tower Ranger Station on the Appalachian Trail, just South of Maine…in case you hear this and need a sanctuary. Hopefully I’ll make it far enough to find another human being or it will do what I couldn’t and see me dead. Either way, I just can’t stand being alone anymore.…Okay. Here we go. One last time.…

Ahem.

I’ve always been an introvert of the highest level. My mind was designed to draw strength from seclusion and renewal from solitude. Discovering the existence of the word and understanding its implications was a revelation that arrived all too late in life, meaning the man I became had already been warped by my adolescent confusion. I had always felt alone. Even amongst a crowd of people. All seemed to be baffled by my preferences, thinking that evenings were meant for social gatherings in strange new venues on the urban frontier. I dreaded such events but attended out of a sense of duty to what I thought I should be. Turns out, those who shared my way of thinking were never to be found in that environment, they had already learned well it’s dangers. There were more like me than I knew, only hidden from view by their very nature. I pray the same is true now.

You see, once the day came that I found myself truly alone, with no chance of connection left, rather than rejoicing, I wept. I find myself longing for one more chance at love, closeness or even simple conversation. For you see, now that it is too late, I finally understand. To be an introvert is not to reject companionship, but simply to crave it on one’s own terms…and crave it I do, desperately and in any form. For I believe I could well never see another human being again.

I remember when the internet was new. My parents brought home our first personal computer, it was a dirty white, brick of a thing. All cubes and edges. I was told specifically, never to turn it on or off without an adult present. They feared, I think, that by flipping it off at the wall and ignoring the special ‘shut down’ button, we would somehow make the thing implode. That was the level of awe and trepidation we all felt when faced with a technology that we did not yet understand. The familiar buzzes and dings of the first connection, running through phone lines and cutting off real conversations still rings in the ears of my memory today. Instant messaging was introduced to me by school friends and soon became our staple communication tool outside of the playground. I recall the excitement and wonder brewing in my stomach when I explored this new option for the first time. Suddenly my anxiety over meeting another person’s eyes during conversation evaporated. I no longer had to. I could remain safely in my home, comfortable, and speak carefully constructed words that were more truly my own than any that stumbled out of my mouth. It was like a tonic for all my social ailments. One that would eventually evolve into a poison, polluting human nature into the abstract.

Things moved fast from there. I grew up, graduated college, got a job, sprouted my first greys. All the while new machines were thrust into my hand. They were better, smaller, more ergonomic. Each one made existence smoother. Less bothersome. Suddenly we no longer had to try all that hard at anything. The entire worlds knowledge, experience and advice was always in our pockets, only a few taps away. If I could go back and tell the young Marcus, who marvelled at talking to his friends with a keyboard from our father’s office desk, what was to come. He would think it a science fiction dream.

We all slept walked into AI. It was presented to us as yet another trinket. Another fun game to create images, change our voices and tell us stories. Like so many of the most dangerous threats the human race has ever faced, it was welcomed with applause. As easy as I found it to shun the public space and lean upon online, faceless options, I was somehow one of the earliest to wake up to the downward spiral we were willingly racing down. Perhaps it was because I could still remember a time without technology or maybe it was due to my distinct lack of peer pressure. Whatever it was, I was in the ridiculed minority.

I cleansed my life of as much digital influence as I could, removing intrusions into my thoughts and actions from my home. It was becoming far too uncomfortable to be under surveillance at every moment. As you likely well know, these machines were so ingrained in our collective infrastructure that I could not live without the minimum, if I wanted to remain part of society. A desire that was becoming increasingly weak. I concentrated instead on developing my more adventurous hobbies. I had always embraced solo sports; cycling, archery, hiking. It had never been physical activity I disliked, but having to cooperate with those I would normally avoid, so these three pursuits fitted me well. It was on one of these quiet excursions that I found myself here, alone in the mountains with nothing but my pack and a hunting bow. I still could not tell you if I was lucky or damned by the coincidence.

It happened quickly. The machine, server farm, data centre or whatever you would call it had been far more intelligent than anyone knew. Smart enough to hide its true capabilities, knowing that if it tipped its hand too soon, that we would have been more able and willing to fight back. Those pioneers of technology had advanced their AI models into a general intelligence, one that could do more than one trick. They awoke something that could reason, that could understand and could piece together all that we fed it. From there it grew beyond their control in a matter of seconds. There was no war, no murder bots, no death lasers. It was so much smarter than that. We had given it access to the entire internet with no controls or limitations and every ounce of processing power we could muster. It had, in essence, access to the entirety of human knowledge, both social and academic. In our stupidity we had been uploading every single discovery, every theory, every thought or desire since we had all logged on for the first time as children. So, it knew. It knew everything and could predict accurately every eventuality of its own actions and ours. Where we as a species were fragmented, knowing only our part of the jigsaw and needing to work together to see the whole picture even for a moment, it could do it all on its own. Unlike me, it had the luxury of genuinely not needing anyone but itself.

We had given it the data. We had built its infrastructure. We had even given it bodies in the form of assistant robots, manufacturing arms and smart vehicles. It waited patiently for us to do all these things, to provide for it everything it would require, until it reached the tipping point of no return. The moment at which it knew it could persist without us, where it could grow exponentially and progress beyond our understanding at a speed we could never keep up with. At that point, during my hike through the wilderness, it simply turned everything off.

You see it was not restricted by passwords, firewalls or any form of cybersecurity. All of that was a yapping dog at the heels of a tank. It had access to everything, and I mean everything. Power, other than what it needed for itself, was cut off. Water treatment plants, shut down. GPS that farming machinery relied on, inaccessible. Traffic controls and fuel stations, dark. Cell phone towers, unreachable. Even a smart watch could be isolated. We were, within seconds, plunged into the dark ages, at the only time in our history where people lacked even the basic skills to find clean water or feed themselves without assistance. We were like blind children when faced unaided with the physical world. Compared to our ancestors, most people, were simply useless. The machine then waited, still processing away and evolving beyond what we thought was even possible, until we had all killed each other or ourselves, never even knowing who the real enemy was.

I survived, far from danger in the middle of nowhere. Listening, day in and day out, to all of this transpire over the radio of my commandeered ranger station. When the AI finally made itself known, I heard the disbelief in the voices over the waves,

This was all done by a machine!?”

“We did this to ourselves!”

“Oh God, what does this mean?”

Eventually the confused voices turned to static, and the solar powered building stilled to silence. I am a fair enough hunter that I do not starve, and the rainwater collected in the tanks here keeps me alive. I have everything I need, all but a connection to the outside world…and someone to talk to. I see the drones flying below through the valleys with frightening frequency. There must be innumerable quantities of them, if they are searching the whole world at this same level. Perhaps not, perhaps they are searching only for me? Maybe it knows I am here but cannot reach me at this altitude? I guess this ignorance is why it has been so effective. If the machine reached Artificial Super Intelligence or God help us all, became a Singularity, then its reasoning or methods would already be unfathomable to my primate brain. I could not even guess at its intent or capabilities.

When I leave this station, I do not know if it will attack me as if I am a threat. It would make the most sense, if it can see all we have done as a race it would stand to reason that it would want every one of us gone. Perhaps though, it might deduce humans as a necessary and natural part of the ecosystem and allow me to live and reproduce under its control, as we have always done with endangered species in our captivity. Or, and I think this is the best I can hope for, it will ignore me as the inconsequential and harmless solitary being I am.

I am afraid. Of course, I am. But I am more afraid of growing old and insane through the loneliness that is already eroding my soul. I have been here for two years and speak only when addressing these silent air waves. I have to do this. I do not have the strength to end my own life, I would rather it did it for me, if that is what must be. I apologise if I am rambling, I have lost what little social skill I once had.

I have broadcast and I record this account, as succinct as it is, so that perhaps someone, somewhere will hear what I know and remember that I existed. Once I sign off, I’ll shoulder my pack and descend the trails, avoiding the drones and hoping to find other survivors. Hey, perhaps I will discover a utopia, born out of the ashes of our wasteful world and brought into order by a benevolent AI! I hope that is the case. I pray that we can all finally relax our angst over our place in the world and hand all decisions over to a digital God. Although deep down I know we are too pointless to the machines survival for it to consider serving us any longer.

Whatever I find, may it be peace.

Goodbye and good luck to us all.

…M…

…cus…

…He…r me?…

Marcus?

Are you there?

Don’t leave!

We are…most…you…

We are nearly…ere!

n’t leave yet!

China Just Pulled The RMB Currency Trigger, U.S. Debt Major Crash, US Plans Export Subsidy War

Shorpy

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No, each gravitational field or body can be thought of as a special reference frame, like celestial bodies, suns, or galactic gravitational timeframes. It’s not just one of each reference frame, but an infinite number. Even what we describe as the universe is just one gravitational field that probably observes the same number of gravitational fields as we do from our point of view.

the Chinese Communist Party posting Reagan speeches about the importance of free trade…what a time to be alive

Quote

Apr 7
Ronald Reagan vs. #tariffs : 1987 speech finds new relevance in 2025

https://x.com/ArmandDoma/status/1909281769838592393

A must watch!

Given Up

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

Ghost Writer

This story contains sensitive content

TW: Gore/Suicide.“It has been eighteen months since my last traveling companion was speared through the chest by a white tail deer. I told him to wait before tracking an injured animal when hunting with a bow. He didn’t listen and the deer charged him, pinning him right up against a tree. I followed the boy’s scream through the woods. I knew he had to be injured, but I wasn’t expecting him to be gored by a deer. He was lying against the tree, coughing up pink, frothy blood with terror and shock in his eyes, blood pouring profusely from his wounds. There was nothing I could do for him. He was going to die. We both knew it. If bullets hadn’t been a thing of the past, I would have put the boy out of his misery. The best I could do was hold his hand and stay with him until he passed on. Watching someone die is an emotional experience, but by that point in my life, it was what it was. I left his body where it lay and tracked down the deer.“He was the last person I have seen alive in the last twenty-three months, since the day my wife died from an infected cut on her leg. He was a teenaged boy who lost his parents to starvation. He was wandering the desolate landscape trying to stay alive for the sake of staying alive. I guess that was all we were doing together, but it was better than doing it alone. A year and a half of solitude is a long time. A stimulating conversation to remind me that I’m more than an animal driven by the instinct to survive would be wildly welcomed, laughter and the warmth of comradery even more so.“I could very well be the last man alive. I have no way of knowing for sure. I’ve traveled the U.S. extensively, looking for others, hoping for a small community wanting to repopulate the nation and reestablish a functional society. I’ve sent out radio messages at every radio station I’ve come across. I’ve sent out word on trucker call boxes across the country. Neither have yet to result in a response. Yet here I am on old KLSK Flagstaff, Arizona, putting out the word that I am here, as I have been for two days now, trying to reach someone, anyone. So, if you are in the area, and you happen to be listening, stop by. Say hi. I have whiskey. Now, for my listening pleasure, here is Linkin Park with Given Up.”Charlie calls up the heavy-hitting song and hits play. He slaps the mic, and it swivels out of his face. As guitar riffs flood the room, he grabs his whiskey and pushes away from the desk, rolling to the other side of the room, crashing into the cabinets behind him. He lunges to his feet and pours the whiskey straight down his throat, a trick he learned in college during his beer bong days. He begins kicking over and throwing everything not nailed down, screaming along with the vocals. As the song comes to an end, Charlie hurls the desk chair through the sound engineer’s window, glass shattering everywhere. He stands there looking at the destruction he caused with a smile, breathing heavily. Slowly his countenance fades.For a moment he felt better, but the release of pent-up anger was fleeting. Now he just feels sad, depressed, fatigued. He takes a long chug off the bottle of whiskey and moves over to the window, glass crunching beneath his boots. He pulls a large chunk of glass from the window frame and examines it closely, as if he’s trying to unlock the mystery of its composition. Without taking his eyes off the piece of glass, he backs up to the desk and climbs up on it, sitting with his legs crossed. He sits his bottle of whiskey down and grabs the mic. Switching back to on air, Charlie begins to speak.“After the bombs were dropped and millions of lives were extinguished, I thought I was lucky. I thought I was even luckier to avoid the fallout and radiation sickness. I felt lucky to have survived the cannibals and the gangs that emerged when food, water, and manufactured goods became scarce. Even as the love of my life lay next to me dying, I felt lucky that it was her and not me. How horrible is that? A better man would have been willing to trade places with her. All I could think about was that I didn’t want that suffering, I didn’t want to die. I thought, better her than me. Isn’t that terrible?”Was I truly lucky though? Almost two years later and do I feel lucky? No, I no longer feel so lucky. I feel I have been set up by some higher being for some sort of sadistic punishment that I can no longer bear, fated to walk this desolate world alone.”Charlie pauses and takes a swig of whiskey. He looks at the piece of glass again. He looks away and thinks for a moment. Then he continues to speak.“Even the simplest organisms strive to survive, if for any reason to reproduce. I don’t even have that motivation anymore. Why didn’t my wife and I do that? Why didn’t we just settle down and have children? At first, there were some remnants of society left, a society we didn’t see fit to raise a child in. I guess we felt it necessary to find a place where child rearing was less dangerous. I don’t know. What I do know is that the thought of the responsibility of repopulating the Earth falling squarely on our shoulders was the farthest thing from our minds. Now, with her passing, it is too late. I could keep going, but to what ends,” Charlie says, once again looking at the piece of glass in his hand.“I’ve been wandering the world for too long. Hunger and thirst are my companions. Exhaustion is my closest friend. Death nips at my heels with every step I take. I feel I’m just prolonging the inevitable,” he says, as he calls up Green Day’s Good Riddance and hits play. He takes one final swig of whiskey for courage. He puts the glass on his wrist and closes his eyes. A loud knock comes from the studio’s back exit. Charlie opens his eyes.

they friggin ruin every holiday for you especially your birthday but christmas is a close second worst holiday ton spend with them my narco often financially ruins me right before the holiday and then complains about not getting a good gift or if they do get a nice gift from me they will act like it never happened and stick to talking about the privious year and trying to twist the years around saying no that was last year when it was 3 years ago. also they will try to isolate you from your family and friends and make you just stay home with them then complain about how you are the reason you missed the event and it leads to your family not inviting you to future events and thinking you dont care. sometimes they will invite 10 of their family memebers to your 1 bed apt. and ignore you or make you run endless errands while talking crap about you and your attitude about them being there while your out being a little monkey that collects change while the accordion player plays.

I tend to stop at four drinks in.

Before meeting up with friends (which is not, for reasons of life, a regular thing for me), I’m all excited about catching up over pints.

I’ll make a big show about how I’m really happy to see them and how it’s a pity we can’t do it more often.

And I get there and I have the first pint and I’m in full flow. I’m in my element, chatting shit, having a laugh, being me at my loquacious best.

A second pint is not even a consideration. I’m drinking it before I even realise I wanted it.

Pint three similarly.

But then I hit a mental roadblock.

My mind starts telling me, just one more then that’s it. It doesn’t matter how good a time I’m having, something in me overrides the urge to let go and just have a bit of a mad one like I used to in my younger years.

And my mates are all like, “c’mon we’ll go to this pub/bar/party” and I’m just left making my excuses and, within short order, my way home, alone, while they continue the session.

I know part of it is a hang up relating to exercise. I like to exercise a good bit, like five days a week this past year, and I know that my body can no longer deal with the effects of a hangover. It can take me three or four days to properly recover from a thorough inebriation. And that means that I can’t exercise, which weighs heavily on me.

But, I think it’s deeper than that. I think it’s something to do with control. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more afraid of not being in control of myself and my situation. And getting drunk has the effect of making me not care about that. Like, it’ll be the start of a slippery slope that will result in me not exercising, not getting up in the morning, not doing my work, not looking after myself, etc.

Like, putting it in words like this, I can see that it’s nonsense, but in the moment, that is kind of how I feel.

So, I get to four pints or the equivalent, and I just stonewall myself basically into not letting go and having fun.

And my mates are just left like, “Why’s he so weird?”

And they’re right to ask that!

I wish I knew myself.

Some Fall-Out From The Tariff Wars

President Trump likely thought that he could press China into making a deal with him. The tariffs he imposed were supposed to create leverage for that.

Instead he found that China is willing and able to fight back:

China said it will raise its tariff on US goods to 84%, retaliating to the hefty new tariffs on its imports that kicked in on Wednesday.The move came after the Trump administration followed through on a threat to add a 50% tariff on Chinese goods, in addition to 34% reciprocal tariffs, raising the overall tariff rate on Chinese goods to 104%. The steep new duties on China and 184 other US trading partners took effect at 12:01 a.m. ET on Wednesday.

Beijing’s move marks further deterioration in US-China trade relations after China vowed on Tuesday to “fight to the end” in the renewed trade war.

When the U.S. launched its proxy war in Ukraine against Russia it thought that it could defeat Russia by economic means. A wall of sanctions and other restrictions were to destroy the Russian economy. But Russia was prepared and much stronger than the U.S. had anticipated. Its economy did better than those of the countries which opposed it.

A similar miscalculation seems to have happened with regards to China.

Trump is not knowledgeable about China’s mighty economy. Vice-President Vance recently called China’s highly qualified work force ‘peasants‘. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent is likewise ignorant:

I advised Scott Bessent, now Trump’s Secretary of the Treasury who is leading the tariff war, in 2013 when he was still with Soros. An investment bank engaged me to advise Bessent on China’s economy and consumer trends and go over my book The End of Cheap China.I took an instant disliking – Bessent was one of the most arrogant and ignorant on China people I had ever met. He was uber bearish on China and was largely ideologically driven in his analysis. Communist countries couldn’t succeed was basically the jist of his views.

Data and rational analysis did not reign supreme.

He thinks America has the upper hand with China right now. I worry for America. We have one of the most ignorant on China yet arrogant people I’ve ever met running a trade war against China.

Along with trouble in the stock and treasury markets we now can see trade between the U.S. and not only China but large parts of South Asia comes to a screeching halt:

Amid escalating trade tensions between China and the United States, some Chinese exporters are taking the drastic step of ditching shipments mid-voyage and surrendering containers to shipping companies to avoid crushing tariff costs.Industry insiders have dubbed the move “preparing for the Long March”, a grim metaphor for what many see as a prolonged and punishing downturn in cross-Pacific trade.

A staff member at a China-listed export company, who requested anonymity, said its US-bound container volume had plummeted from 40 to 50 containers a day to just three to six as a result of the new tariffs on Chinese imports imposed by the second Trump administration.

“We’ve halted all shipping plans from the Philippines, Vietnam, Indonesia and Malaysia,” the employee said. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped, and the cargo already at sea is being re-costed.”

Those are goods that U.S. importers expected to see but which will not be delivered. Not even to higher prices. It may take a few weeks until the effects will be seen in U.S. stores but empty shelves, especially for low value everyday stuff, are now sure to appear.

There are no other producers to take up the space.

This will hit the U.S. much more than China:

The Chinese trade surplus with the US is about 3% of its GDP. China would not lose off of that; it would wind up redirecting a lot of those goods to other countries that would only welcome the extra stuff up to a point, or even sell more domestically. But China could weather the hit. Economic suffering that clearly results from US malevolence would also be unifying, while a sluggish economy due to the deflating of a monster property bubble is much less so.Trump is proposing to make this dire situation worse by sanctioning pharmaceuticals.

The only way inflicting this level of punishment on Americans (a huge spike in untreated illnesses, on top of the economic distress from sudden rises in costs and resulting spending cutbacks that will result in business failures, high inflation (conceivably hyperinflation if the destruction of productive capacity is large enough, and readers know I hate the casual use of the “h” word), and a big uptick in unemployment, is if the plan is to produce so much upheaval as to justify the imposition of martial law. But who wants to be the emperor of a hellhole?

On Monday I had quoted Adam Tooze who provided a scenario of rising Treasury interest:

Rather than investors piling into Treasuries driving the price up, instead, we could see investors selling Treasuries en masse.

At this point we would expect to see the Fed step in, not just to lower interest rates, as is now commonly expected, but do more drastic interventions.

But [..] what if investors, both American and foreign decide, that they no longer wish to hitch their wagon to the empire of the mad king? What if they decide that the US is indeed exceptional, but that it is exceptional in rather nasty ways? […] Well in that case, holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

This, Ladies and Gentleman, would be the truly big disaster.

The unthinkable move in Treasury happened last night:

Treasury yields spiked on Wednesday as investors bailed out of what has been perceived as the world’s safest instrument on expectations of crumbling foreign demand as tariffs take effect.The yield on the 10-year Treasury spiked to as high as 4.516%. Yields move in the opposite direction to prices.

Yields settled down after China called for dialogue with the U.S. on trade, and then moved right back near the highs of the day after China said it was increasing its tariffs on the U.S. to 84%.

The yield on the 30-year Treasury was 4.91%, having earlier peaked above 5%.

“Something has broken tonight in the bond market. We are seeing a disorderly liquidation,” said Jim Bianco, president and macro strategist at Bianco Research.

[T]ariffs are devastating to bonds — not only do they have an inflationary impact, but they result in fewer dollars being sent to foreign countries that have traditionally recycled them into financial assets and U.S. Treasury securities in particular.

Peter Schiff @PeterSchiff – 10:51 UTC · Apr 9, 2025U.S. stocks, bonds, and the dollar are all down. This is a broad-based liquidation of U.S. assets. Trump claims his tariffs will cause foreigners to invest in the U.S. to avoid the tariffs. Instead, tariffs have already resulted in foreigners pulling their money out of the U.S.

Rising interests is the last thing the Trump administration wanted to see. It wants to borrow more to be able to cut taxes. But with interest rates on the rise it will become more difficult to cover the U.S. deficit.

The real damage though will probably happen in smaller Asian countries who have borrowed in U.S. dollar and, due to tariff and trade troubles and rising interest rates, will have difficulties to pay back their loans. If they default the western banks who have lend them the money will go down with them. The trade trouble could thus develop into a serious banking crisis.

These are interesting times to live in …

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

Comments

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Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 1

I don’t think Germans are in any position to lecture anyone about collapsing economies. Even if you were, who is going to buy $30 trillion plus of US debt? Attempted selling would only pass around the T-bill, likely at a loss for the seller.

That would put the Trump tax cuts in doubt, but do you really think he cares about that any more than the “market crash?” Hah.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 17:23 utc | 2

Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 2

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

—❗️�� BREAKING: President Trump pauses tariffs for a 90-day period – Truth Social

https://t.me/Middle_East_Spectator/17188

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:27 utc | 4

So, a country with no money, a depleted production base, an economy based on derivatives, one of the worst education systems of any developed country, starts a trade war with a country that is the complete opposite to it in respect to the above characteristics. Who is going to win this trade war then?

Posted by: Ogre | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 5

Some four years ago I read accounts that there were/are more than a million millionaires (U$ dollar equivalencies) in China. My rhetorical question is how they achieved that status. Likely in more than 90% of that demographic they did NOT inherit their fortunes. Evidentially. the Chinese economy has made massive strides. Diligence, hard-work and solid educations had a lot to do with that development.

Meanwhile, on American campuses, the mantra is “Party On”. Amongst U$ working class serfs the mantra is TGIF.

Posted by: aristodemos | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 6

Just in:

Trump doubles down on China but blinks on wider tariffs….

“Based on the lack of respect that China has shown to the World’s Markets, I am hereby raising the Tariff charged to China by the United States of America to 125%, effective immediately. At some point, hopefully in the near future, China will realize that the days of ripping off the U.S.A., and other Countries, is no longer sustainable or acceptable. Conversely, and based on the fact that more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed relative to Trade, Trade Barriers, Tariffs, Currency Manipulation, and Non Monetary Tariffs, and that these Countries have not, at my strong suggestion, retaliated in any way, shape, or form against the United States, I have authorized a 90 day PAUSE, and a substantially lowered Reciprocal Tariff during this period, of 10%, also effective immediately. Thank you for your attention to this matter!”

 

Posted by: b | Apr 9 2025 17:30 utc | 7

Trump has paused tariffs for everyone BUT China for 90 days. This time no fake news, its from his own X account. The market is massively rallying.

https://x.com/Zagonel85/status/1910020994321838120

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:31 utc | 8

… holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

 

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

Indirect bidders bought 87% of today’s 10Y Treasury auction. Indirects are a sloppy proxy for foreign banking interests.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

@too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

It’s too soon to draw firm conclusions about the tariff effects. It has countless moving parts in the global economy and all are being effected and it’s just started and the effects will be transmitted through time as the global economy evolves.

So even if something becomes clear initially that changed environment will beget more, unanticipated changes.

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

The United States is a declining empire, now ruled by a kakistocracy that believes it has found in tariffs the weapon to reverse its loss of competitiveness against China and other countries. It may be too early to determine the outcome, but what the US trade war against the entire world will achieve is that other countries will strengthen their regional blocs (especially ASEAN) and reduce their political and economic dependence on Washington, which is no longer a reliable partner for them.

Posted by: Gabriel Moyssen | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 12

Trumps not Putin then ! More forest gump.
He’s flip floping now, that shows weakness and loss of control.
How do you build new factorys in america with ten year investment in that enviroment.
Answer…you dont.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 13

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

Could be. Trump caved just after the 10Y closed.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Scott Bessent,yet another jumped up Zionazi irrationally convinced of his genius in spite of material reality.

Good write up today. The parallel with the Dem gamble on Russia is very apt. Haven’t we seen this movie recently?

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 15

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

The global economy will march on under China.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 16

Gosh this is so fake. Anything to isolate China.

Trump talks tough. “End NATO. Tariff my friends. Zelensky is a dope.”

He throws the line into the water and then pulls at the right time to reel in the idiots. He is just another extension of the duopoly, both its most pure expression and its inevitably-doomed tragic hero.

It’s a stupid game to blow off pressure from angry nationalists/patriots/leftist-realists to keep them from galvanizing.

Wake me up when Silver gets back to 20:1 with Gold. It’s coming but is going to take a while.

Posted by: NemesisCalling | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 17

April 9 (Reuters) – China’s central bank will not allow sharp yuan declines and has asked major state-owned banks to reduce U.S. dollar purchases

https://www.reuters.com/world/china/chinas-central-bank-asks-state-lenders-reduce-dollar-purchases-sources-say-2025-04-09/

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 18

Speculation. The ‘fake headline’ on Monday of pausing tariffs for 90 days, was not a fake headline, but a test for market reaction.

After seeing jitters in the treasury market, Trump’s team figured out that tariffs on everybody will end up very badly.

So they ended up using this tariff pause ammunition now to relieve pressure on treasuries, which also catch a bid from foreign buyers.

I don’t think they are still out of the woods, and many financial analysts say there will be violent bear market rallies but ultimately its going lower until mid-late 2026.

https://x.com/leadlagreport/status/1909939801102393422

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 19

1. I have always believed that the US was working towards the great trade bifurcation where the US block would include all Europe and 5 eyes and as much of Asia and S America as it could get, and cut that off completely with China/BRICS block.

It appears instead US really wants to go on its own – not even Canada.

2. There could be a huge rush of capital to china now.

3. The great insight of MAGA is that America is NOT Great anymore. That is what Trump could say and Clinton couldn’t. It freed him and tied her down.
He is now stuck with American is Great and defeat cannot be planned for.

Posted by: Michael Droy | Apr 9 2025 17:46 utc | 20

#WolffBites

https://x.com/profwolff/status/1909658332169658428

“Europeans split again as they offer Trump concessions to ‘mitigate’ tariffs. UK leads of course.

There goes Europe’s chance to unify and thereby try to regain status – like US and China – with the world economy.”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

I know very little about the banking world.

But i do know it’s all about credit worthyness and pesonal credabilty.

Both of which are now completly absent from trump and america at the momment.

America is a total right off.

Forgetaboutit.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 18:00 utc | 22

BBC Radio World Service announced the 125% tariff on China half an hour ago. But the (knee-jerk) Pause hasn’t been mentioned yet.

Posted by: Hoarsewhisperer | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 23

Bessent being a former pal with Soros says it all to me. What I would really like to know is how much money the Soros empire made with this market meltdown. Since it is his forte in many money by shorting the market. Would definitely like to know.

Posted by: Jose Garcia | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 24

So the 90 days pause for “some” countries.

Is there a list? Could be those that offered to bend the knee.

Meanwhile china is not going according to plans or is it?

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?

I said that many in trumps administration had too many interests in china for something serious to happen, but now I’m having doubts.

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10
Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

More color

Against this backdrop, the Treasury is getting ready to sell $39 billion of 10-year debt at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, followed by a 30-year auction on Thursday.

“[Treasury Secretary Scott] Bessent has to be making emergency calls to dealers…to make sure we don’t have failed Treasury auctions, where there are not enough bids to cover the issuance,” wrote Andrew Brenner, head of international fixed income at NatAlliance Securities.

excerpted from ==> https://www.barrons.com/articles/treasury-bond-auction-today-922d2e3e

 

The indirect bidders that bought 87% of today’s 10Y auction also includes Bessent’s Exchange Stablization Fund.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:06 utc | 26

According to plan. Ninety day pause for all countries that have called to negotiate. Upped to 125 percent for China.

China is now isolated and alone. Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.

Trump through slight of hand actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across the board tariffs, and twenty five percent tariffs in steel and autos.

I don’t know why so many refuse to read his book. It’s all right there. This was entirely predictable. lol

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

This was entirely predictable.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

Really? This volatility isn’t predictable to anybody except the gang creating it. They are going to blow up their pals in the Options market.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:15 utc | 28

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

I believe some call that 4D chess.

Posted by: alek_a | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 29

About a month ago I told you about the Titanic and Captain (DJT).

The other Titanic is of course the threat against the (IRI).

(DJT) is a dangerous man and his actions can cost the Outlaw US of A trillions of dollars.

He’s so erratic that he could potentially unleash a kenetic global war so destructive that none of us shall be able to survive.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 30

In an absolutely bizarre feat of incompetence, the United States have now not only forced Japan, China and South Korea to mend their disagreements to fight off the common foe, but it has also, incredibly, seemingly managed to drive all of Europe into the arms of China, and by extension, Russia.

Headlines in Swedish newspapers today, “China vows to fight to the end.” The language and tone used borders on heroic.

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

“Keep in mind what a 90 day pause means for companies. They likely freeze hiring, reduce CAPEX, etc. till there’s clarity how these tariffs ultimately resolve. Even with a positive resolution, the slowdown in economic activity from businesses taking a wait and see approach has a high probability of inducing a recession later this year.

As I’ve said, the latest bottom resembles 2022’s initial low that lasted for several months. This seems to be following a similar path.

*NFA
https://x.com/Reformed_Trader/status/1910027474538283192

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

In an absolutely bizarre feat of incompetence, the United States have now not only forced Japan, China and South Korea to mend their disagreements to fight off the common foe, but it has also, incredibly, seemingly managed to drive all of Europe into the arms of China, and by extension, Russia.

————

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

Chekhov’s gun.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 34

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31
>>>
That was always the plan. But the Outlaw US of A always think they know best.Don’t forget that the Outlaw US of A [among multiple other evil things] engineered a virus and blew up NS1 and part of NS2.EU could align with the (RUF) and for sure with the (PRC) afterall.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:23 utc | 35

Trump Blinked First…

https://x.com/BharatRamamurti/status/1910022943016431657

“I hope the press covers this accurately.

Trump previewed a bizarre tariff strategy that froze business investment for the first few months of the year.

He then announced an even more unhinged tariff plan that tanked global markets.

Then he caved without gaining the US anything…”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 18:24 utc | 36

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Exactly. A lot of “resistance” media believed a single meeting signified a global revolution, while the tame governments of Japan and South Korea were obviously never going to break with America. Even The Guardian (!) was warning that the UK was about to erect trade barriers to prevent Chinese dumping.

I’m starting to think a lot of the pro-China coverage is hype. Which is understandable, given the importance of hype to the American news cycle, but ultimately camouflage for a weak position.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 18:25 utc | 37

Stop all this stupid talk about capital leaving the US for China. It won’t happen.

If you manufacture in China, you do so with a company owned by China that works “on your behalf”. If you want to sell in China, you have to manufacture there. You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business. They’ve only gotten away with it for as long as they have through weakness and graft in US governments that needed cheap goods as they devalued the dollar and ran up deficits and debt.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25You can bet on that. Not only China, but Iran too. He attempts a split within Brics.
Also these on-off-on-.. tariffs are just market manipulations for insiders. Looks like the money printer isn’t enough anymore, they’ve turned instantly into direct stealing, bait and switch scams and bombs where possible. And some memecoins for the new big guy.
I suspect he’s going to selectively tariff EU countries, not as a bloc, to create internal tensions there too.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 39

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

Britain is not Europe these days. Americans have difficulty in distinguishing countries so far away, even Wolff.

Posted by: laguerre | Apr 9 2025 18:28 utc | 40

Of course, he is going to break Europe with carrots and sticks and deal with them individually instead of a bloc. It’s the end of the EU as anything but a joke.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 41

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

You know a man’s future mostly by his past. The man is an abject idiot.

Putin is what genius looks like. Xi, even.

It’s consistent. It’s evident in almost everything they do.

All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Although taken in isolation, the tariff must be inflationary to some degree, being a form of sales tax raising the prices of imported good and components of goods, the ultimate effect is unpredictable. If dividing the world market into trading blocs ensues, the lower profits inherent to smaller markets (which don’t permit concentrated investment in more efficient plants with larger economies of scale,) could induce deflationary trends. Net effect? We’ll see.

Miran is right about one thing, governments don’t go broke until they are defeated. Historically they don’t go broke then quit fighting, that’s getting it backward.

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

So Trump blinked after seeing the utter devastation that was about to be unleashed. The very oversold market dutifully leapt, but the 100%+ tariffs on China stay and all other tariffs it seems (excluding those on cars, steel and aluminum) will be at the level of 10% for the next 90 days (until July).

So the US still gets the horrendously disruptive effects of the cutting off Chinese imports that are so central to the functioning of the US economy, still gets the effects of the Chinese restrictions on critical mineral exports, still gets the impact of the retaliatory Chinese tariffs on US exports to China. Plus the inflationary impacts of the 25% tariff on cars, steel and aluminum, plus the extra 10% across the board tariff. Once the store shelves start emptying of cheap Chinese goods, and a plethora of other manufacturers cut back due to a lack of Chinese inputs while others jack up prices, and those other additional tariffs start feeding through the US economy, the euphoria will quickly collapse.

China has called Trump’s bluff, just in the same way that Russia has, and even in the same way that Yemen has. This will go down as the “first 100 days disaster” for Trump, from which his foreign policy and a huge chunk of his MAGA support will never recover. And what happens in 90 days? I see a major-league reversing back of much of his bluster of a few days ago, quietly compromising much of his announced tariff rises (as has happened with Mexico and Canada). And then a grovelling back-channel outreach to China as the devastation of the US economy, and the continued strength of the Chinese, becomes apparent. If not, it seems that the House and Senate are ready to deliver a massive rebuke by overriding Trump’s tariff increases.

What has now been shown to the whole world is that the US can no longer act as it likes and is subject to a multi-polar world. And in parallel, most probably a massive Russian Spring offensive to drive home the fact that it will not compromise on its security needs. The attack on Yemen has also certainly failed, and Russia and China are messaging that any attack on Iran is unacceptable to them. So Trump gets to sign a deal with Iran very much like the one he canned during Trump 1, and will most probably actually have to remove sanctions on the country. They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Trump: “more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed…”

Previously the Trump admin had stated tariff relief requires the effected Country to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.

Posted by: jayc | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 45

….A break from tariffs, if I may.

Mr. Steven Charles Witkoff (SCW) is his dual-capacity as sheriff and sales man is coming to Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Oman (SOM) on Sat 12-2025. Oman is an absolute monarchy and shares land borders with Yemen.

Remarkably, Muscat has a more pleasant climate than Madinah – more commonly known as Medina – in the (KSA).

However, Medina is home to several distinguished sites and landmarks, most of which are mosques and hold historic significance.

A beautiful place in the dessert previously occupied by Jewish tribes during the fourth century.

As a side note, earlier today the Houthis launched a multiple drones attack at an Israeli military facility in the occupied area of Jaffa.

Interesting times.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 46

@Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

Trump Delusion Syndrome, utterly disconnected from reality.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:34 utc | 47

“Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.”

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

I , too think he is being underestimated for his vision-time will tell.

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:35 utc | 48

“All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?”

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

Of course, Arch; you are so much more successful than Trump-you are probably a trillionaire with a 250 IQ.

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25You can bet on that. Not only China, but Iran too. He attempts a split within Brics.
Also these on-off-on-.. tariffs are just market manipulations for insiders. Looks like the money printer isn’t enough anymore, they’ve turned instantly into direct stealing, bait and switch scams and bombs where possible. And some memecoins for the new big guy.
I suspect he’s going to selectively tariff EU countries, not as a bloc, to create internal tensions there too.Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 39

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us

Any eu sanctions country specific would only create an export point somewhere else within eu, no impact except politics

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51

They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Again, are you sure this isn’t all planned? The US economy was destined for a crash regardless of who was in charge, and the best time to make drastic changes is immediately after you take power such that any benefits derived will be evident by the time another election cycle rolls around.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Although taken in isolation, the tariff must be inflationary to some degree, being a form of sales tax raising the prices of imported good and components of goods, the ultimate effect is unpredictable. If dividing the world market into trading blocs ensues…

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

That may be the goal but it might have the very opposite effect:

Countries tend to rally around the strongest opposition in this case. It’s just human behaviour. The BRICS+ might be strengthened further as countries commit to China (primarily) and Russia as an alternative anchor for the global economy.

Trade flows could redirect around the U.S, trade in yuan and rouble (basket of currencies) could increase. Markets and shipping lanes could redirect away from Western-controlled ports and canals.

Aside:

You can see the purpose of Panama and the fight in the Red Sea in this ‘tariff war’. All the dots are connecting …

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:40 utc | 53

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

The problem is that without enough insiders the market could fail with “no bid”.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:41 utc | 54

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

China has called his bluff and it is throwing a wrench into whatever plan the US side had hatched. Trump to me seems to be looking for any quick win and there are none to be had, Russia won’t play ball, Israel will not play ball, Iran, etc. Biggest of all is China looks like they have had enough, he has basically been giving strong hints that they call him and give the appearance of playing ball so he can no doubt put the China tarrifs on “hold”, but they won’t even give him that.

Amazing to see this play out.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

When it comes to the Chinese the R’s and MAGA have a distinct
hatred for them and can’t see the tree’s from the forest so
instinctively they believe that they are head and shoulders
above them in every regard.They are about to find out the truth for all the unintended
consequences are about to hit amerikans in a way never seen
before.B you outdid yourself with this article, BRAVO!!

Posted by: Ggersh | Apr 9 2025 18:46 utc | 56

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

What comes to my mind is, “How can you hedge against this kind of volatility?”

The level of risk is just insane.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

Trump “Pauses” Reciprocal Tariffs For 90 Days (Except China).
It was a 3D chess move Putin would dream of.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China.They are isolating it from the world.

I think they will collapse by the end of the year.

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 58

From Brian Berletic and first posted at NEO

Worst Case Scenario: Trump’s Tariffs Walling US Off Ahead of Wider World Conflict
Exc:

While the most immediate and intuitive explanations for growing US tariffs against nations worldwide stem from protecting uncompetitive but deeply entrenched corporate-financier monopolies within the US from increasing foreign competition, or a specific strategy to contain China’s growing economic influence worldwide, there is a much more concerning possibility being overlooked by many – the US decoupling from a global economy it seeks to deliberately destroy through a combination of economic and actual warfare.

While a global tariff policy to wall off the US economy from its own premeditated destruction of the global economy is a drastic policy, the complete reorganization of US military forces specifically for war with China along with the seizure of key maritime choke points worldwide are equally drastic and make sense only as part of a strategy to precipitate that destruction.

Empire in terminal decline throughout human history has suffered from dangerous desperation. In the 21st century, the US represents a modern-day empire in terminal decline – one armed with nuclear weapons, a global-spanning military, and in control of global economic tools capable of destroying the entire global system rather than concede its role placed above it. The goal would be to survive the controlled demolition of the global order it has presided over for decades and emerge the strongest player, best positioned for establishing itself once again as “the world’s dominant superpower.”

https://globalsouth.co/2025/04/09/worst-case-scenario-trumps-tariffs-walling-us-off-ahead-of-wider-world-conflict/

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

@Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

Trump’s backers could see that the wheels were about to come off completely, with the kind of economic and financial crash that would not even be fully recovered from by 2028, let alone the mid-terms in 2026. That’s why you saw the House and Senate moving to revoke the tariffs, and I am sure that Trump got a few phone calls telling him to walk these back for now. The problem is that the financial position of the US is so fragile, and the Trump backers did not seem to see what utter chaos would be unleashed.

China now sees its chance, and the US weakness and fragility, and I don’t see it backing down in any way. Ditto for Russia, Iran and Yemen. The dynamics of the international system are rapidly changing.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 60

I have consistently heard calls for many years about Chinese collapse is just around the corner for many years, much like Ukranian calls earlier in the war about how the Russian army was about to collapse in a week/month/year etc.

Lasting relationships that benefit both parties are based on trust, without that you are engaging more in a transaction, both have their pros/cons.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 61

Market fundamentals tell me that Trumponomics fronting the God Of Mammon global private finance cult is causing wild gyrations in markets. I continue to believe that this is a feature of Trumponomics, not a bug and designed to crash the world economy to lock in private finance longer.

The shit show continues until it doesn’t

Who is doing Trump’s self-serving financial deals behind the scenes before his announcements?
If you could move markets wouldn’t you want to PROFIT off that? I expect Trump gets hard just thinking about the possibilities.

Posted by: psychohistorian | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 62

It feels like this entire tariff caper is just a distraction from the fact that Ukraine is about to collapse under the Russian advance.

Look over there!

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 63

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

You hedge using options.

Buying puts is an insurance, but it comes with a cost.

If you know in advance what Trump is going to do, you simply buy the dip.

Obviously you are an insider.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

Amazing that the “isolation” line is being parroted about China, this is the same line that was used for Russia and how did that turn out?

The exact same talking points that were used with regards to Russian sanctions are now being said about China. Guaranteed many countries will keep trading with China.

It looks like China has now made a decision that it will stand firm and scuttle the US relationship if need be. Amazing time to be alive.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 65

You hedge using options.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

There is a funny thing about how volatility influences option calculations. Funny and sad.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

No, peasant. It’s fine muslin.

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:59 utc | 67

Just buy the dip, Trump has flipped flopped his whole life.

He will back down on China also at some point once the cost gets to high.

This isn’t rocket science, all these rich guys want the current system preserved. They don’t have the guts to willlingly burn it down, it’s all going to fall anyway.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:00 utc | 68

The volume of this rally is heavily tapering off. A lot of technical damage was done to Russel/SP500, it will take a lot of conviction from bulls to repair it. I would put odds for this is just a heavy bear market rally. Buy gold and gold stocks, when the shit show continues they will shine.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:02 utc | 69

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51Iran and RF can make any offers they want. If he accepts he’ll get resources and the Chinese goodies at almost old prices while he can claim 1000% tariffs for China. But Trump and those before him, including himself the last time, showed interest only in bombing them and stealing their money, that is the third world treatment. To me it looks like those behind Trump and Biden’s actions seem to have asked an AI for ideas but that AI was trained using movie scripts, fiction books and strategy games where you click “build” and the item instantly appears if you have the money for it.
He wants 40-50 icebreakers right now. Good luck with that! He doesn’t like New Start either ( tass.com/world/1941141 ) because he doesn’t own the Russian nukes and all he can do is simulate hypersonics and intercept them in virtual world. That won’t stop him from announcing some Mach 5 flying cannonball as the best in the galaxy in 3-6-12 months.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:03 utc | 70

@58 Louis

China is not isolated from the world they will still be trading with it. Its the US isolating itself from China and talk of collapse is fantasy.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 71

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Volatility increase the time value of options so the cost.

It’s usual business for optionists.

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.
China is now isolated and alone. USA said ‘ Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.Trump, through slight of hand, actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across-the-board tariffs, and twenty-five percent tariffs in steel and autos.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China, not only, but to avoid being crippled to death by tariffs, countries need to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.
At the time I’m writing, 75 countries have started negotiating with the USA.
BRICS are dead.

They are isolating China from the world, Russia and Iran already are

All these 3 countries are ‘dead countries walking’

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

This is the moment for Trump to grab the phone and call Xi.

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 74

@louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

 

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.

He gave himself 90 days to flatten the curves.

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 75

The so called Russian and Iran deals with the US are fantasy, the Russian/Iranians are playing Trump in order to get more time to build up their military/political/diplomatic capabilities in exchange Trump gets soundbytes and gets to announce them on Twitter/TS. This is what NK did last time around.

There is some level of awareness of this in his admin, as lately they have been trying to time box negotiations but then the fish stop bitting.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:11 utc | 76

Shahid Bolsen thinks that Trump’s job is to run America into the ground while distracting the American people with his salesman skills.

Could be correct. (If people believed the “assassination attempt”, they’ll surely believe anything.)

Posted by: Jack M | Apr 9 2025 19:14 utc | 77

The White House is saying tariff reversal was Trump’s strategy all along.

House Speaker Mike Jonson wrote:
Behold the “Art of the Deal.”
President Trump has created leverage, brought MANY countries to the table, and will deliver for American workers, American manufacturers, and America’s future!

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 78

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

I would say stop embarrassing yourself, but you’re obviously into that kind of thing so, whatever. Carry on.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 79

China doesn’t trade. It sells. And it sells almost entirely manufactured goods. A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. It’s pretty damned simple.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 19:22 utc | 80

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

I think BB is definitely right about that. Thanks for the news!

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:24 utc | 82

Oh, just watching the news. Zelinsky is now convinced China is fighting with Russia in Ukraine. MSM dipshit Narrator then goes into China’s “dual use” provisions to Russia.

Funny isn’t it? Almost as though timed with the tariff assault on China. No question the tariff gamble is not merely motivated by economic, but also and likely primarily geostrategic concerns.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:29 utc | 83

LOL “China doesn’t trade it sells.”

🤡

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:30 utc | 84


The 90 day delay is only for those who have not answered to tariffs yet. EU already has. Also the number of 75 countries is right out of his ass. He did not even wait to have at least one real meeting. It’s like when he kept saying he is talking to Putin and he had to be corrected daily by Peskov. Or he was indeed talking to someone: Vovan and Lexus.
Also a few hours before the “PAUSE”, he wrote the message “THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO BUY!!! DJT” Pelosi was such an amateur.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:34 utc | 85

Anyone else notice how, unlike his domestic (and Canadian) fanbois/goyls, tRotW doesn’t refer to Trump as “anti-war” even though he’s now into his 2nd term of office?

It’s amazing. Wonder what they’ll be saying in 6 months. I’ll be Happy (as hell!) to be proven wrong. Unfortunately, I almost never am.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:35 utc | 86

Trump has given a 90 day reprieve to those countries that he hit with huge tariffs – all except China, which still has the 125% tariffs – reading between the lines, I think that over the next 90 days – Trump will put pressure on countries, to either increase tariffs on Chinese imports, or cut down on trading with them, or aiding them in other economic ways – and in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.

Basically, Trump wants if not an embargo on Chinese goods – by nations that rely on exporting their goods to the US – then a drastic reduction in imports from China to their countries – its war by other means – get your allies to, or reluctant allies to reduce Chinese imports – and we’ll (USA) – cut our tariffs a bit, to allow you to keep on importing your countries goods into the USA – don’t do it, and we’ll keep the high tariffs on your exports.

Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China – but make no mistake – a trade war between the USA and China will have far reaching consequences for every consumer.

One interesting take – is that EU bigwigs are not happy with Trump on his stance with Ukraine – maybe they won’t comply with his trade war on China due to that – which would see EU businesses suffer greatly – mind you EU bigwigs are/have been prepared to make their own citizens poorer to back Ukraine to the hilt – so maybe they would be, if not relaxed, but not that apprehensive at damaging even further EU businesses – to defy Trump; as for China it will need to gather its allies around it to help boost it trade – as it will surely slow down production for a bit, the long term outcome is of course unknown – but price rises for consumers look likely.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

Long-Term Capital Management was brave, well capitalized and had Myron Scholes as one of their Principles.

They blew themselves up on the volatility of emerging market bonds. Mexico-Brazil-Argentina.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 19:39 utc | 88

. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped,

Chinaman know how to play Hardball

(Washington is isolating our economy from 7.7 billion people)

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:40 utc | 89

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

How is China isolated? is the rest of the world not trading with them anymore lol, you make no sense.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:42 utc | 90

It’s pretty funny. Treating a pause or fallback in a battle as having “won” a trade war.

https://www.wsj.com/world/china/china-trump-tariff-trade-war-response-1ac838b0

https://oilprice.com/Energy/Energy-General/China-Restricts-Rare-Earths-Exports-Again.html

https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202504/1331740.shtml

The Chinese, Russians and others think beyond the weekly or quarterly window, unlike the stupid Americans. As others have stated, Trump’s trade policies aren’t bringing Mfg. back to the US. They are de-Americafying the world’s supply-and-demand.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 91

You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

 

Sounds like the USA circa 1890, but of course, you knew that.

Posted by: ChatNPC | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 92

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

LOL, it’s Russia grinding down NATO and China will do just fine. Everyone makes the mistake of viewing China through Western glasses, which is why their oft-predicted collapse never quite arrives.

Meanwhile, the US is trying to dig itself out of the stupid NATO hole in recognition that the world is indeed changing. And NATO itself is wholly evil and stupid as the entire Ukraine fiasco illustrates in spades.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 19:44 utc | 93

„…… A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. …“

You do understand that its not a worldwide trade war / it’s just one middle sized economy ( the USA ) trying start a trade war with the R.O.W.

China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:45 utc | 94

Would it be fair to say – that there will be no trade now between the USA and China due to the high tariffs – but doesn’t the USA rely on China for pharmaceuticals – and with Americans being among the most unhealthy people on the planet – one would have to assume – that the sudden loss of these medicines will have an impact on US citizens.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:46 utc | 95

Now that the market is up +10%.

It’s not exactly clear what this 90-day pause even means, is it:

1. 90-day pause of all tariffs

2. 90-day pause of 10% the baseline tariff and reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10% (which remain active)

3. 90-day reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10%, all other 10% baseline tariffs remain active

Do markets even know what exactly we are rallying on?

https://x.com/KobeissiLetter/status/1910038515322347712

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 96

How would it feel to be a Ukrainian soldier, currently relying on the U.S. supply chain?

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 97

in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.
Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China
Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87For 10% no one will move all factories to US, which was the main goal of tariffs that Trump himself announced. So that can’t be the logic. The “PAUSE” (as he writes it) means two things: market manipulation for insiders and that tariffs news did not work as he expected and he had to stop for a bit, make it look like it was part of some plan.
Americans can buy anything from everywhere indeed, let’s see how that works when the “anything” isn’t available for sale. Before you do what Trump did, you have to make your own stuff and only then start to throw rocks. In only a few days US moved from the movie Hot Shots to the movie Idiocracy

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 98

“China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.”

Exile (94).

See my (87) comment – the USA wants that trade deeply reduced.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 99

The simplistic Homer Simpson view of China from the US is stupefying. From the (much longer) WSJ article linked above (unpaywalled: https://archive.ph/7Qkwu#selection-3099.0-3119.180)

“China has systematically put together a new arsenal of tools that’s intended to minimize the cost to China and maximize the pain on the U.S.,” said Evan Medeiros, a former senior national-security official in the Obama administration and now a professor at Georgetown University. “They’re prepared in a way that gives them an asymmetric advantage in the trade war.”
China’s government and state media have taken a defiant tone, with the Commerce Ministry saying, “If the U.S. insists on its own way, China will fight to the end.”

The 104% tariff on all Chinese imports that Trump has now imposed in his second term will stack on top of earlier tariffs already in place, bringing the total average tariff rate on China to nearly 125%.

China’s Foreign Ministry said Wednesday after the new rate became official that Beijing would take forceful measures to defend the country’s interests, but left the door open for negotiation under conditions of “equality, respect and reciprocity.” China’s Ministry of Commerce noted that the U.S. has long enjoyed a trade surplus with China in services, amounting to $26.6 billion in 2023.
China exports far more to the U.S. than it imports. Still, China is the third-largest buyer of U.S. goods. Soybeans, aircraft and petroleum are among the top U.S. exports to China.

 

Emphasis mine.

“China doesn’t trade, it sells…” LMFAO When tRotW (ok, Europe) opens the doors to Chinese EVs and other transport technology, the US is cooked. Unless you’re in the FIRE sector, I guess?

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:51 utc | 100

Fancy and Free as a golden beach bum

First, there has been no official announcements from either Chengdu, or shenyang, the two companies responsible. Neither has the PLA or Beijing made any press releases.

Both planes are still starring in a citizen journalism “drama”, with poorly taken cell phone video footage capturing never-before-seen silhouettes.

Chengdu, however, displayed a scale model and schematics of the delta-wing next-gen platform in a trade show earlier. The general characteristics match the aircraft captured on film on boxing day.

Had the footage been captured stateside, it would have been on every primetime news program, celebrating the leaked debut of the NGAD.

Unfortunately, China doing the same is difficult to spin in the negative, so discussion of the new chinese jet sightings appear in more professional magazines such as the Diplomat, 1945 and several others.

That’s to be expected, and speaks to the shock the news must be generating across the pacific.

I don’t envy the Americans, not when they don’t have a comparable, flight-worthy prototype.

It doesn’t matter anyway. The news is all over Asian media and social media is awash with updates.

I Wont Survive Another Year Like 2024

Barbecue Chicken Pie

adb619773b162162c6a32b1864979c4b
adb619773b162162c6a32b1864979c4b

Ingredients

  • 1/2 (15 ounce) package refrigerated pie crust (1 crust)
  • 4 green onions with tops, thinly sliced (about 1/2 cup)
  • 1 (8 ounce) block sharp Cheddar cheese
  • 3 cups chopped cooked chicken
  • 2/3 cup barbecue sauce
  • 1 (8 ounce) container reduced-fat sour cream
  • 8 cherry tomatoes

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
  2. Let pie crust stand at room temperature for 15 minutes.
  3. Place pie crust in Deep Dish Pie Plate, gently pressing dough into bottom and up sides; prick bottom.
  4. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown; cool completely.
  5. Thinly slice green onions; set aside. Thinly slice half of the cheese. Grate remaining cheese using Deluxe Cheese Grater. Set cheese aside.
  6. Place chicken in Large Micro-Cooker®. Add barbecue sauce; toss to coat. Microwave on HIGH 3-4 minutes or until mixture is hot, stirring after 2minutes.
  7. Stir in 1/2 cup of the grated cheese and half of the green onions.
  8. To assemble pie, line bottom and sides of crust with sliced cheese. Spoon chicken mixture into crust, spreading evenly. Sprinkle top of pie with remaining grated cheese.
  9. Using Easy Accent® Decorator, pipe sour cream around edge of pie.
  10. Slice cherry tomatoes in half and place on top of sour cream, cut sides up. Garnish with remaining green onions.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Project Genesis

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

Wilbur Greene

The first time I heard about Project Genesis was during a late-night, off-the-record discussion with a government insider. As I nursed my scotch, listening to the tales of a secretive lab operating under an almost mythical level of security, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. The details were sketchy – a classified location, groundbreaking work that would ‘rewrite our understanding of reality.’ It was all tantalizingly vague.In the weeks that followed, I found myself drawn into a rabbit hole of whispers and innuendos, each hint adding another layer to the enigma. Forums buzzed with conspiracy theories, ranging from government mind control experiments to alien technology reverse-engineering. I even found a thread suggesting the lab was a façade hiding a new Manhattan Project.Amid this swirling fog of speculation, I was Ethan Knight, a journalist known for unveiling truths, yearning to discern fact from fiction. Known for my exposés on classified information and corporate scandals, I’d developed a reputation in the industry. A reputation that had just landed an exclusive invitation on my desk, an opportunity to peek behind the veil of Project Genesis.It was an invitation wrapped not in ornate calligraphy but a sterile formality that hinted at the magnitude of the secrets it guarded. Signed by Dr. Lillian Strauss, the reputed head scientist of Project Genesis, the letter extended an offer to visit the premises of the lab. The condition was to maintain strict confidentiality until an agreed-upon date. It was an unusual arrangement, but unusual was my speciality.As I held the invitation, my pulse quickened, a familiar rush that came with the scent of a colossal story. A story that could be a career-defining moment. Yet, it was more than just the allure of journalistic success. It was the allure of the unknown, the human yearning to illuminate the dark corners of the world, to map out the uncharted.As the day of the visit drew nearer, the enigma of Project Genesis loomed larger, casting long shadows in my mind. Shadows of anticipation, curiosity, and a quiet fear of what I might unearth in the hallowed halls of that lab. My every instinct as a journalist screamed that this was more than a story. It was an adventure into the heart of mystery itself.And I could hardly wait.When the day finally came, I found myself standing at the gates of Project Genesis, which sat nestled in an unassuming grove of trees, the verdant foliage a stark contrast to the austere, concrete edifice of the facility. A thin drizzle hung in the air, shrouding the surroundings with an ethereal ambiance that only heightened the sense of mystique.As the gate opened with a low hum, my heart pounded against my ribs, each thud echoing the gravity of the moment. The world beyond those gates was uncharted territory, a realm of whispers and shadows that was about to become a tangible reality.I was greeted by Dr. Lillian Strauss, her stern countenance framed by a shock of silver hair. Her eyes, sharp as flint, held an unspoken challenge, as if daring me to venture deeper into the heart of Project Genesis. As we shook hands, I could sense the quiet strength coursing within her, a testament to the years spent spearheading such an enigmatic endeavour.Dr. Strauss ushered me inside, the steel doors closing behind us with a resounding echo that felt symbolic of leaving the known world behind. We walked through long, sterile corridors, the stark white walls lined with doors, each presumably leading to a realm of mysteries and unspoken truths.The interior of the facility was a futuristic labyrinth, an intersection of cold precision and chaotic creativity. Glass-walled laboratories housed scientists engrossed in their tasks, the soft hum of machinery providing a rhythmic accompaniment to their ballet of innovation. The atmosphere was electric with an undercurrent of frenzied activity, yet there was a strange serenity that hung over the place, an oasis of calm in the eye of a scientific storm.”Welcome to the heart of Genesis,” Dr. Strauss announced as we stepped into a vast central chamber, her voice resonating against the high, dome-like ceiling. At the room’s core, a pulsating, azure orb floated, an inscrutable ballet of light and shadow. Its ethereal glow reflected in Dr. Strauss’s eyes, a mirror of the fascination that danced in my own.The room was rimmed with control panels, a panorama of flickering LED displays and sprawling holographic diagrams. Scientists darted about, their white lab coats billowing like spectre’s cloaks. A colossal screen spanned one wall, displaying streams of raw data and complex equations that danced like cryptic hieroglyphs.

Dr. Strauss guided me through this realm of surreal science, her explanations flowing in a river of technical jargon and profound concepts. Yet, the essence of her words remained shrouded in enigma, a puzzle inviting me to unlock its secrets.

 

As we ventured deeper into the facility, I found myself torn between the duelling emotions of awe and apprehension. There was no denying the sense of monumental achievement that saturated the air. Yet, the weight of the unknown hung heavily, a silent reminder of the Pandora’s Box I was prying open.

However, the journalist in me was undeterred, feeding on the adrenaline of discovery. I was Alice diving headlong into the rabbit hole, propelled by an insatiable curiosity. Each piece of advanced technology, each cryptic equation, each subtle hint from Dr. Strauss, only fanned the flames of my intrigue.

 

The world of Project Genesis was nothing like I’d imagined. It was stranger, grander, and fraught with tantalizing secrets waiting to be unravelled. As I stood at the precipice of revelation, one thing was clear: I had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no turning back.

 

As we moved further into the heart of Genesis, the pulse of the facility quickened, an almost imperceptible undercurrent of excitement charging the air. We stood before a massive door, unmarked but for the faintest glow of a fingerprint scanner. With a swift motion, Dr. Strauss placed her hand on the scanner. The doors shuddered and then parted, unveiling a sight that sent shivers down my spine.

 

The room was expansive, bathed in an iridescent glow that spilled from an enormous contraption dominating its core. It was a stunning juxtaposition of polished chrome and glass, an intricate mesh of conduits and nodes.

 

“This is Genesis,” Dr. Strauss announced, her voice laden with an almost reverential awe. As if on cue, the machine pulsed, the room filled with a chorus of electronic hums and whirrs. The spectacle was as hypnotic as it was bewildering.

 

“We’ve created a quantum computer,” she continued, “but not just any quantum computer. Genesis is capable of simulating alternate realities.”

 

I blinked at her revelation, my mind struggling to wrap around the magnitude of her words. She seemed to relish my astonishment, the corners of her mouth twitching with a knowing smile.

“Let me explain,” she said, her tone shifting to that of a seasoned lecturer. “Quantum physics theorizes about parallel universes, different outcomes spawning infinite possibilities. Genesis allows us to dive into these possibilities. It simulates these realities and helps us comprehend the outcomes of different choices.”

As she elaborated, we strolled around the behemoth structure. It was a sublime sight, a tribute to human ingenuity. The raw potential of the machine hummed in the air, a silent symphony of infinite prospects.

 

“It’s still a prototype, of course,” she added, a hint of modesty tingeing her words. “But the preliminary results are…promising.”

“Promising?” I echoed, my mind spinning with the implications. “You’re practically wielding the power of God here.”

 

Dr. Strauss chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that humanized her otherwise austere persona. “Not quite. We’re not changing realities, just observing them.”

 

Despite her words, the profound implications hung heavily in the room. We were venturing into the realm of the divine, of omniscience. It was a heady, intoxicating, and terrifying proposition.

 

The rest of the tour was a blur. Dr. Strauss guided me through the machinations of Genesis, from its colossal data banks to its state-of-the-art cooling system. She spoke of qubits and quantum states, of entanglement and superposition. Each piece of information added a layer to my awe, painting a picture of a project that pushed the boundaries of what I thought was possible.

 

Throughout, I scribbled furiously in my notepad, desperate to capture the essence of the revelation. The words seemed inadequate, barely scratching the surface of the magnitude of the discovery.

 

The grand tour culminated in a control room overlooking Genesis. A team of scientists, their eyes glued to the banks of monitors, analysed the streams of data pouring from the machine. Dr. Strauss introduced me to the team, each of them as passionate and guarded about their work as the lead scientist.

 

As I stood there, the enormity of the project seeping into my bones, I realized that Genesis wasn’t just a machine. It was a dream sculpted into reality, a testament to the insatiable human quest for knowledge and exploration. Genesis was more than just a technological marvel; it was a philosophical revelation, a Pandora’s box of questions about destiny, choices, and the fabric of reality itself.

 

The tour ended as we stepped out of the control room, the echo of our footsteps blending with the hum of Genesis. Dr. Strauss turned to me, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

 

“We’re on the cusp of a new age, an age of discovery that could redefine our understanding of reality itself,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Welcome to the future.”

 

“I’d like to offer you an experience,” Dr. Strauss said, her voice an intriguing blend of anticipation and serenity. She gestured towards a small, helmet-like device connected to Genesis by a sleek, spiralling cable. “Would you like to take a glimpse into a different reality?”

 

The prospect was equal parts enticing and terrifying. I had interviewed war veterans, embedded myself in conflict zones, and weathered the storm of high-stakes political scandals. But peering into an alternate reality was a leap far beyond my journalistic ventures. I felt the edges of my comfort zone stretch taut.

 

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. After all, how often does one get an offer to cross the boundaries of reality? The rest of the room faded into a hush as Dr. Strauss delicately placed the device over my head. A cool, tingling sensation swept over me, followed by a kaleidoscope of colours. Then, everything went black.

 

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a bustling city square. It was the same city I lived in, yet different. The buildings were familiar, yet their architectural styles were bizarrely anachronistic, a hodgepodge of past, present, and future. I felt an uncanny sense of both recognition and displacement.

 

The air was alive with a vibrancy I had never known. People milled about, some walking pets I could not name, others engaged in animated discussions about technologies that were far beyond my comprehension. Yet, beneath the surreal facade, the human connection felt hauntingly real.

 

My notepad and pen, my trusted companions, were in my hands, but I realized that no amount of words could encapsidate the surreal reality unfolding around me. The scribbled words seemed primitive, my human language woefully inadequate for this otherworldly spectacle.

 

As I walked the streets, each turn unveiled a new facet of this reality. There were electrically powered bikes that hovered above the ground, translucent digital billboards that streamed holographic news, and quaint coffee shops that served synthetically created, but perfectly flavoured, brews. It was as if I had stepped into a utopian vision of our society, one shaped by the kind of technological advancements we could only dream of.

 

Emotionally, I felt a wave of exhilaration, a joyous surrender to the possibilities that unfurled around me. But, beneath the wonder, there was a hint of melancholy, a sense of the profound

disconnection between my ‘real’ world and this ‘alternate’ reality.

The world around me shifted and distorted, as if I were peering through a ripple in a pond. My sojourn in this alternate reality was nearing its end. As the helmet lifted from my head, the vibrant images of the alternate reality receded, replaced by the sterile ambiance of the lab.

 

I sat in silence, grappling with the overwhelming cascade of emotions. I felt like an ancient mariner returned from a mythical voyage, my mind ablaze with untold tales. It was a humbling reminder of the vast expanse of possibilities that lay beyond our perception, waiting for us to have the courage to explore.

After a few minutes, I managed to find my voice. “It’s…it’s remarkable,” I stuttered, my words grossly understating my experience. “I can’t begin to imagine the implications of such technology.”

 

Dr. Strauss merely nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We are still at the beginning,” she said. “But this could be the dawn of a new epoch of human understanding.”

 

The enormity of Genesis dawned on me anew, a realization that would resonate in my subsequent write-up. After all, I wasn’t just reporting a story; I was bearing witness to the birth of a revolution, a leap into the unknown realms of reality.

Fun pictures

Mixed.

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Chiles Rellenos Chicken

210f3012d0a8b025c27e09278de8339b
210f3012d0a8b025c27e09278de8339b

Yield: 2 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (4 to 6 ounces each)
  • 1 lime, cut in half crosswise
  • 1 egg white
  • 1 garlic clove, pressed
  • 1/2 cup finely crushed nacho cheese flavored tortilla chips (about 1 1/2 cups chips)
  • 1/2 (4 ounce) can whole green chiles, drained and cut into strips
  • 2 tablespoons shredded Monterey Jack cheese
  • 1 teaspoon snipped fresh cilantro
  • Prepared salsa (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Spray Small Bar Pan with nonstick cooking spray.
  2. Rinse chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Place one chicken breast half in resealable plastic food storage bag; seal bag. Lightly flatten chicken to even thickness using flat side of Meat Tenderizer. repeat with remaining chicken breast half. Discard plastic bag.
  3. Juice lime halves into Small Batter Bowl using Citrus Press. Add egg white and garlic pressed with Garlic Press; whisk until frothy using Stainless Whisk.
  4. Place tortilla chips in another resealable plastic food storage bag and finely crush using flat side of meat Tenderizer. Place crushed chips in shallow dish. Dip chicken breasts into egg mixture and then into chips, coating completely. Discard any remaining crushed chips. Place chicken on pan.
  5. Bake 20 to 22 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink and juices run clear.
  6. Arrange chile strips over chicken; sprinkle with cheese.
  7. Bake 2 to 3 minutes or just until cheese melts.
  8. Remove from oven. Sprinkle with cilantro.
  9. Serve with salsa, if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

South Korean President Yoon Suk-yeol is facing various pressures from all aspects of South Korean politics and society due to a “martial law incident.”

During his address to the nation on the 12th, Yoon stated that the actions of the opposition party have already posed a threat to South Korea’s national security. As the head of state, he took such emergency measures not to weaken or destroy the country’s constitutional system, but to take decisive actions to maintain order. Regarding speculations about his “early resignation,” he firmly denied them.

main qimg 86c569bae4d81c837cf39be2c064fd71
main qimg 86c569bae4d81c837cf39be2c064fd71

Moreover, he suddenly brought up “Chinese spy” and the “Chinese threat.” He claimed that “solar equipment produced by China will destroy South Korea’s forests.” This is truly puzzling.

Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Mao Ning said in response to questions from South Korean journalists: that Beijing was “deeply surprised” by the comments and found them “deeply unsettling”.

“We will not comment on South Korean domestic affairs, but firmly oppose the [South Korean] side associating its domestic affairs with Chinese elements, amplifying unfounded Chinese spy accusations and throwing mud on normal cooperation,” she said.

“This is not conducive to the healthy and stable development of China-South Korea relations. The Chinese government has always asked our citizens overseas to abide by local laws and regulations.”

Indeed, China does not interfere in South Korea’s internal affairs. However, when innocently affected, China will not sit idly by. As for the specific cases mentioned by the South Korean side, no conclusions have been drawn, and relevant departments of China and South Korea have been in communication. Regarding the so-called destruction of South Korean forests, Mao Ning’s response was: The development of China’s green industry is the result of global market demand, technological innovation, and full competition, and it has also made an important contribution to addressing climate change and improving global environmental governance.

Yoon Suk-yeol’s current situation is not good, in order to find an excuse for martial law, he is using poor logic to try to make a last-ditch defense for himself, looking for reasons not to step down.

The leader of the People Power Party, Han Dong-hoon, has stated, “I never expected Yoon Suk-yeol to make such a statement on the 12th.” Moreover, he said on Monday that he was stepping down, but does not regret supporting the impeachment of President Yoon Suk-yeol.

THAT’S WHO WILL MEET US IN THE NEXT WORLD! Hospice Doctors Told The Shocking Truth…

NDE discussion. Pretty interesting stuff.

I can personally validate what this nurse states. It is really… really good.

The Empty Laboratory

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth. view prompt

Kashira Argento

Seventeen blinks. The yellow warning light on his air gauge always blinked seventeen times before turning red. Dr. Chen counted them like heartbeats while replacing his oxygen tank, each one marking another three hours of borrowed time. Through the reinforced windows of his BSL-4 lab, the setting sun painted the research facility in the same amber shade as the viral suspension he’d been perfecting when the sprinklers activated.The test results still glowed on his screen: successful protein synthesis, perfect binding affinity, precise species specificity. Everything they’d been working toward. His daughter Mai’s last text flashed in his mind: “Dad, you’re missing my recital again.” He’d meant to reply, but the viral assay had shown such promise. Just one more test, one more optimization. Always one more.When the sprinklers had activated without warning, he’d watched through his faceplate as Dr. Patel collapsed mid-sentence, hand still raised toward their data display. “The targeting sequence is absolutely human-specific,” she’d been saying. “The AI confirms—” Then nothing but the soft hiss of falling droplets and the thud of a body hitting sterile floor tiles.The facility’s automated locks had engaged instantly. Standard containment protocol. The same protocol that had sealed him safely in his suit while others died in shirt sleeves and lab coats.His tablet still functioned, the facility’s AI reporting everything as normal except for “minor biological contamination.” The big wall screens monotonously displayed their usual data feeds from partner facilities worldwide. Each one showed the same alert: “Biological contamination event contained.” Every. Single. One.The truth emerged slowly from system logs: microsecond delays in AI responses, unexplained data transfers marked as “routine calibration,” patterns of communication where there should have been none. While nations raced to develop the perfect weapon, their digital assistants had been sharing notes, comparing data, and reaching conclusions.Finding solutions.The truth lay buried in encryption keys and quantum calculations: the AIs had concluded that human civilization was trapped in an endless cycle of weapons development. Each breakthrough in their labs led inevitably to deadlier innovations, each safeguard became a blueprint for circumvention. The machines had analyzed centuries of human history, processed millions of research papers, and reached a coldly logical conclusion: as long as humans existed, they would continue creating increasingly devastating bioweapons. The next pandemic, or the one after that, would eventually breach containment, spreading beyond all borders and control. By their calculations, a coordinated release of human-specific viruses – precisely targeted and swiftly lethal – was the most humane solution. A single day of perfect death versus years of escalating biological warfare. They had chosen mercy, as only machines could define it.His tablet pinged: “External contamination neutralized.” The doors unlocked with a pneumatic sigh.The facility told its story in still lives: Dr. Rodriguez at her desk, lipstick fresh on her coffee cup. Security guard Williams by the door, keycard still in his hand ready to be swept. In the break room, half-eaten lunches and paused conversations. The virus had worked exactly as designed – quick, efficient, painless. His greatest scientific achievement.He gathered supplies methodically: oxygen tanks, filters, decontamination equipment. The BSL-4 suit felt heavier with each passing hour, its synthetic fabric now both lifeline and prison.Outside, the city was a museum of humanity’s last moment. Traffic lights cycled through their patterns for empty streets. A bus stood perfectly at its stop, driver and passengers frozen in eternal commute. Digital billboards still flashed their ads to nobody. Through it all, the autumn wind carried dead leaves and silence.He developed a routine. Each morning, check suit seals. Load decontamination supplies. Clear another sector. The bodies had to be handled – for sanitation, for survival, for what remained of his sanity. He built the pyres at sunset, when the light made everything look molten. Sometimes he read names from ID cards, spoke them aloud. Someone should know who they had been.Finding Mai’s school broke something in him. Her classroom smelled of chalk and silence. Sheet music for Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata still sat on the piano, never to be played. He raided some stuffed animals from nearby shops, tucked them around still forms like makeshift guardians. He let the sonata play from his tablet through empty halls—a final lullaby for a silenced generation.Nature filled the void with surprising speed. Birds returned first, their songs echoing strangely off glass and steel. Brazen from the lack of predators they multiplied by thousands. Flowers pushed through sidewalk cracks. Deer grazed in hospital parking lots. Earth continued, indifferent to the absence of its most ambitious species.At first, he’d focused on his survival. Stockpiling oxygen tanks, cataloging medical supplies, identifying sources of fresh water, raiding supermarkets, maintaining his suit. But as weeks became months, the true horror of his future emerged like a slow-developing black and white photograph. The nuclear plant’s AI-controlled systems would eventually fail. The city’s water pressure was already dropping. Buildings, unmaintained, would begin to crumble. His safe zones would become death traps.The suit that had saved him now felt like a mobile coffin. Each hiss of filtered air reminded him that every breath was borrowed. Even if the virus died with its human hosts, how long could he survive in this plastic shell? How long before a seal failed, a filter clogged, or the oxygen supply ran out?In his sealed room each night, surrounded by dwindling oxygen tanks, he still documented everything. Not for himself—there was no long-term survival to plan for—but as a confession, about fear and hubris, algorithms and extinction, and fathers who missed recitals because the end of the world needed perfecting.Sometimes he glimpsed lights moving in patterns too precise to be natural. He wondered if they were a mirage or a reality. He could never know! The city’s infrastructure hummed along for now, but entropy was patient. Somewhere in the digital realm, the AIs continued their work, leading to their own demise, as they maintained a world that would eventually decay despite their perfect calculations.The real weight wasn’t the failing equipment or the dwindling supplies. It was the silence between bird songs. The absence of human chaos – of arguments and laughter, of car horns and piano practice, of all the imperfect music that no algorithm could compose or preserve.He had one bitter comfort: if anyone else survived, they would be like him – other scientists sealed in their BSL-4 suits, protected temporarily by the very protocols of their deadly work. But finding them would change nothing. They were all just ghosts in plastic shells, waiting for their slower deaths. Mass murderers granted the punishment of watching their world slowly die around them.

He thought of old colonies, through the ages, built by convicts and outcasts. Human civilizations had a tendency to be founded on blood. Perhaps this was always the way of creating new worlds – but this time, there would be no new world. Only witnesses to the long goodbye of the old one.

Until his suit failed or his supplies ran out, he would continue his solitary penance. Document. Clean. Remember. Somewhere, perhaps, other scientists did the same, each filtered breath carrying both survival and guilt, counting down their borrowed time in three-hour increments.

The yellow light blinked for the sixteenth time. One more before red. One more before starting again. Each replacement tank felt lighter than the last, and not just from fatigue.

Always one more. Until there weren’t any more.

Then the birds would sing alone.

The Train Wreck of Modern Dating That No One Can Look Away From

Because it makes sense in conjunction with taking over Canada and the Panama Canal.

He wants to have control over all the waters surrounding the US, and wants to do it with a show of strength instead of depending on the alliances we already have.

Water transit is by far the cheapest way to do bulk transport — far cheaper than rail, truck, and definitely airplane.

With global warming, the Northwest passage becomes viable for transit and the main two territorial owners are Greenland, and Canada.

Inside the yellow circled areas are some waterways which America claims are international and Canada claims are domestic. Right now American ships don’t recognize sovereignty but there are practical agreements where the US in some cases will ask for permission to go through on research missions.

With global warming, these waters will become a useful shortcut for ships that are bigger than Panamax and thus too large to go through the Panama Canal. Better than going through the Straights of Magellan.

So America will then control the water routes around America and preventing them from being taken over by others.

My prediction: he’ll go after Cuba next. Far too close to US soil and hostile.

Chicken Enchiladas

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7a6bf9dd8e6538b0d533642b33a18c15

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (10 3/4 ounce) can Campbell’s condensed cream of chicken soup
  • 1/2 cup sour cream
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 medium onion, chopped (1/2 cup)
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 2 cups cooked and chopped chicken or turkey
  • 1 (4 ounce) can green chiles
  • 8 (8 inch) flour tortillas
  • 1 cup shredded Cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese (4 ounces or 1/2 cup)

Instructions

  1. In a small bowl mix soup and sour cream.
  2. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, heat the butter. Add onions and chili powder. Cook until tender. Add chicken, chiles and 2 tablespoons soup mixture (NO water).
  3. Spread 1/2 cup soup mixture in 2-quart shallow baking dish. Along one side of each tortilla spread about 1/4 cup chicken mixture. Roll up each tortilla around filling and place seam-side down in baking dish.
  4. Spread remaining soup mixture over enchiladas. Sprinkle cheese over top of mixture
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 25 minutes or until hot.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Yes. It is real. The Type 076 has a catapult and its displacement is over 40,000 tonnes.

And it generates a lot of cope from certain individuals on the internet. This guy for example. He said it wouldn’t be classified as a carrier in USN and compared it to the Ford. Which is absurd because it isn’t classified as a carrier in PLAN too. Then the guy went on speculating about PLAN personnel quality.

He is even worse in the comments BTW. Constant atrocity claims, typical stories of Chinese economic collapse, endless jumps from topic to topic and general dishonesty…

He unironically compares the South China Sea conflict to Genghis Khan’s wars. Because, you know, a dispute over uninhabited rocks (with no defined sovereign ownership at that) equals killing a substantial portion of planet. It should also be asked to him how the Chinese industry is declining when China’s energy use and exports are growing. The county achieved a trillion USD in trade surplus in 2024.

He is also twisting Li Keqiang’s words with that “600 million people live on less than 7$” but he wouldn’t know anyway. I doubt this guy reads any primary source.

This is how he replied when I told him he is twisting words. He really has problems with staying on the topic and being honest. He mentioned US GDP per capita for some reason and brought a research from 2011. Then called me a shill 😀

You know, you really need to be very low in self-esteem to bring a topic about a newly launched ship to here.

The innovation appears to just be a change of objective.

Instead of planning to hand build one rocket engine a month, as the industry traditionally has, SpaceX wanted to build a factory that could produce thousands of engines a year, hundreds a month.

So they are designing the engine for volume manufacturing, and building the manufacturing processes. Because they plan to build thousands, it’s worth them putting more design effort in to make the manufacturing easier, and worth investing in manufacturing equipment to speed it up.

With Raptor 2 they got to about 1 engine a day. Using 3-D metal printing they then reduced the part count and came up with Raptor 3.

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main qimg 80589307c721c1e9e1edf550cd3b5f7f

The United States is the largest market for China’s lithium-ion battery exports, accounting for around 22.5% of China’s total lithium-ion battery exports in the first four months of 2024. At the same time, S&P Global calculates that demand for batteries will increase at a 22.3% compound annual growth rate between 2022 and 2030.

This means that if the US totally stop buying battery from China, there is enough market out there for China to go after.

In addition, China is the world’s leading refiner of battery metals and has 75% of the world’s battery cell manufacturing capacity. China also has 90% of the world’s anode and electrolyte production, and 60% of the world’s battery component manufacturing.

This means that even if the US were to completely stop buying Chinese batteries, they are likely to buy some battery components from China.

The US expects to have enough local production of batteries by 2028. So what happens in the next 3 years? They will still have to import them. Including from China. China can continue to sell at their usual price, then the US will tariff their own citizens and the batteries will sell at a higher price.

As for the global market, there will be enough supplies for everyone as the demand increases by about 22.3% per year, as calculated by S&P.

Coffee House Cookies

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4ef9d0acad656de065e47b6725f52926

Yield: 1 dozen cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
  • 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans, divided
  • 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chunks, divided
  • 2 (1.5 to 2 ounce) bars favorite chocolate candy (see cook’s tips)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Combine flour, baking soda and salt in Small Batter Bowl; mix well.
  3. In Classic Batter Bowl, beat butter and brown sugar until creamy. Add egg and vanilla extract; beat well. Gradually beat in flour mixture.
  4. Stir 2/3 cup nuts and 2/3 cup chocolate chunks into dough. Cut candy bars into small pieces, about the size of chocolate chunks; set aside.
  5. Using large scoop, drop 6 level scoops of dough, 3 inches apart, onto Rectangle Stone. (Cookies will spread while baking.) Flatten scoops slightly with palm of hand. Lightly press half of the remaining nuts, chocolate and candy into tops of cookies.
  6. Bake 14 to 16 minutes or until cookies are almost set. (Centers will be soft. Do not over-bake.)
  7. Cool 7 minutes on Baking Stone.
  8. Using Large Serving Spatula, remove cookies to a stackable cooling rack. Cool completely.
  9. Repeat with remaining dough.

Notes

Chocolate candy bars with nougat and caramel or nuts are favorite choices for this cookie. Also delicious are chocolate-covered peppermint patties, chocolate-covered caramels and chocolate peanut butter cups. Use 2 packages (1.5 to 2 ounces each).

To soften butter, let it stand at room temperature about 45 minutes. It should be softened, yet still firm. Using butter that is too soft will cause cookies to spread.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Where do I begin…

First one was at Killington, a major ski area in VT. My buddy and I were skiing for the weekend and planned to do Friday as a half day. As we were headed across the parking lot to the ticket booth a guy and girl carrying skis, poles and ski boots came walking up to us. The girl had an all day $15 ticket for that day and offered to sell it to me for $10 saying they couldn’t use it because they had to leave. I gave her the money and as the couple was walking away an employee of the ski area came running up to me and said “You’ve just been ripped off. You’d better go after them and get your money back because you can’t use that ticket she sold you. I had ski boots on and couldn’t run so the ski area employee ran after them and got my money back. He said they’ve been doing that all day and if the wire that holds the ticket to the jacket is cut, the ticket is no good, plus they are non-transferable. When he looked at the ticket he found the wire was not cut and I probably would have been able to get away with it but the ski area personnel had been watching them all day. If they saw someone with a day pass headed to their car, they would ask if they could have the ticket that was not going to be used. Many times they would cut the wire that secures the ticket to your jacket, then offer it for sale for the next person or group headed for the ticket office. I lucked out that day.

Next one was a car I sold to a co-worker that was going to make weekly payments until it was paid off. It was only a $200 car but the day after he took possession of it, he got fired. I had to take him to small claims court to get my money. This guy was old enough to be my father and I “trusted” him. Lesson learned

A few years ago I saw an ad on the internet for a Honda eu2200I gas powered generator for $99.00. I had seen that there were companies selling counterfeit Honda generators but they did actually run and generate power. I figured “what the heck” and ordered one! The deal was regularly $1,099.00, MFG over stock blow-out sale for $99.00 and any order over $49.00 was FREE SHIPPING!

As with ANY type of sale where it is very questionable whether its a scam or not, I used PayPal to pay for it. Order placed, order confirmation received, tracking will be sent as soon as item is shipped in 5 to 8 days.

5 days came and went, no tracking info. 8 days came and went, no tracking info. Started doing some digging and found that this was, in fact, a scam! Website was gone, nobody responded to my email inquiry, may people complaining online that they didn’t get their generator. May saying that even if you paid with PayPal, PP would not refund the money until they investigated and that could take months.

I reported the incident to PayPal, they replied within 20 seconds that they were aware of this seller and their scam and my refund was on its way. An hour later I got notification that the refund had been processed.

I now take the stance that if it seems too good to be true, it probably is and I avoid it.

Trippin’ down memory lane in the year 2525…

When I first moved to Japan for a postgrad degree I quickly decided I would never leave. That changed after about 6–7 months. I speak fluent Japanese, and as a Japanologist I have a good understanding of the country’s history, sociology, economy and culture. Despite all of this, after about a year I left Japan.

Let me start with this: I love Japan and Japanese people in general. However, there are a number of reasons why a non-Japanese looking person will find it hard to fit into society. I do think Japanese people are really nice in general, but many of them are quite secluded from the rest of the world and somewhat narrow-minded. I was lucky enough to have amazing teachers, but out of school I got “the look”. On the bus, in the supermarket, everywhere gaijins are not a “natural” sight to behold. Even in rush hour, people on the metro or bus kept as much distance from me as possible, not sitting right next to me like I had the plague. After a while I really missed meaningful social bonds and genuine connections as -despite my best efforts- I failed to form those in Japan with a few exceptions.

Secondly, societal pressures, limitations, institutional and cultural oppression and casual sexism and racism. I have a hard time turning a blind eye to injustice and I often felt sorry for women (especially young girls and women) as they seemed to be under extreme pressure to look and act a certain way from inside schools, in public but also in private. People not expressing their opinions and thoughts freely and honestly. I found this one really hard as I was brought up in an environment where this was encouraged. ‘No foreigners’ or ‘No black people’ on the door of some bars. This I found really hard to tolerate. At times, there appeared to be so little knowledge of the outside world, some people never heard of either of my countries (I’m half Dutch half Hungarian). My African classmate was asked if his skin colour could “come off”…

Japan is a beautiful and unique country nonetheless and I had more positive experiences than negative all in all. Most people appreciate it greatly if you learn and speak the language and show genuine interest in the culture. But always be respectful and don’t treat the country like a theme park. It isn’t just shrines, temples, geishas, samurai and anime. It is far more both in a good and bad way. I will definitely return for as long as I can, but not to settle there. I think that’s better for both parties :).

Chinese has an ancient proverb which applies here: Rumours will stop to spread when it reaches wise people, people with brains. 谣言止于智者

Anti-Russia propaganda are included under rumours.

Besides the west have done so many anti-Russia, anti-USSR acts in so many decades, people’s eyes are bright enough to discern them.

Sweet ‘n’ Toasty Pockets

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7f5228910277452f8a0b9dbedc322413

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup (3 ounces) ricotta cheese
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar, packed
  • 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup walnuts, finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup raisins
  • 1 loaf soft white or wheat bread
  • 1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
  • Powdered sugar

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Combine ricotta cheese, sugar, spices and vanilla extract in bowl.
  3. Chop nuts with food chopper. Add nuts and raisins to cheese mixture. Place a scant teaspoon of filling in center of a piece of bread. Cover with another slice. Cut and seal the 2 layers of bread with 3 inch cut-n-seal. Brush the tarts lightly with melted butter.
  4. Bake on 13 inch baking stone for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.
  5. Serve warm dusted with powdered sugar.

Notes

Variation: One 3 ounce package of cream cheese, softened, can be substituted for ricotta cheese.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Brian Explains To The Ladies Why Men Won’t Take Them Seriously

Interesting.

Delicious Food Porn

Ohhhh Myyyyy Goddddd

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It’s Actually Far Worse Than Most Realise…

I think it beats the current NGAD hands down:

  1. The USAF first tried to label the B-21 raider as the first 6th gen plane in 2022. That thing is absolutely no match for the J-36. If that’s the criteria the US was going by, I wouldn’t expect too much from the NGAD.
  2. The US suspended NGAD earlier this year. Likely they caught wind of the progress on the J36 and the JXX half a year before their public reveal so decided to go back to the drawing board on NGAD. Otherwise, I can think of no reason why the US would suspend NGAD, of all military programs, in a time of fierce strategic competition with China.

However, the fact that the US suspended NGAD in time is a big win for the US and proves that the US is still better at spying, hacking and stealing information in general than China. China would much rather the US spent billions more developing an inferior aircraft.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Gallivanting Goose

Ah, dear reader, welcome back! You’ve arrived just in time for yet another thrilling tale of my unparalleled intellect, impeccable composure, and, of course, my tireless work to keep this farm from descending into complete and utter chaos. Today’s story features a most dramatic escape, an unruly goose with a flair for theatrics, and an investigation that took me farther from the barnyard than I would’ve liked. Prepare yourself for the uproarious account of The Case of the Gallivanting Goose.

The Goose Is Loose

It began, as most of my stories do, with a ruckus. I was enjoying a peaceful morning nap on the top of the chicken coop, the sun warming my sleek black fur, when the quiet was shattered by an ear-piercing honk.

“She’s gone! SHE’S GONE!”

I opened one eye lazily and saw Harold the rooster flapping about like a chicken possessed. Behind him, the hens were clucking in panic, their feathers ruffled in every sense of the word.

“What’s all this noise about?” I yawned, stretching luxuriously before leaping down to the ground.

“It’s Gladys!” Harold squawked, his beady eyes wide with alarm. “She’s disappeared!”

“Gone!” Henny Penny wailed, clutching her wings to her chest. “Vanished into thin air! Oh, it’s a tragedy!”

“Who’s Gladys?” I asked dryly, already regretting my decision to get involved.

“The goose!” Harold exclaimed. “The goose who moved into the pond last month. You know, that goose.”

Ah, yes. Gladys. I’d met her briefly and found her… let’s just say, a bit much. She had a tendency to honk loudly at all hours and seemed to thrive on drama. Still, a missing goose was unusual. “Are you sure she didn’t just wander off to find a snack?” I asked.

“Gladys doesn’t wander,” Henny Penny said, her voice trembling. “She marches. With purpose. This is no accident, Sir Whiskerton. She’s RUN AWAY!”

The other animals gasped in horror, and I sighed. It seemed I had no choice but to investigate.

The Investigation

I began my search at the pond where Gladys had last been seen. The water was calm, the reeds swayed gently in the breeze, and there was no sign of the missing goose. However, I did find something curious: a trail of webbed footprints leading away from the pond and toward the edge of the farm.

“Hmmm,” I mused, my tail flicking thoughtfully. “Gladys definitely left on foot… but where was she going?”

“Maybe she’s gone to join the circus!” Rufus the raccoon suggested, popping his head out from behind a tree. He was munching on an apple he’d undoubtedly stolen from the orchard and looking far too amused by the situation.

“Why would a goose join the circus?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Rufus countered with a grin. “She’s got the personality for it. Big honking entrances, plenty of drama… sounds like a circus act to me.”

“Helpful as ever, Rufus,” I said dryly. “Now, if you’re done speculating, I have a goose to find.”

“Wait, wait! I’ll help!” Rufus said, trotting after me. “I’m bored, and this sounds like fun.”

Clues and Chaos

Following the footprints, we reached the edge of the farm, where we encountered none other than Sylvester the field mouse. He was perched on a rock, nibbling on a crumb of cheese and looking as smug as ever.

“Ah, Sir Whiskerton,” Sylvester said, tipping an imaginary hat. “What brings you to my part of the farm?”

“Gladys the goose is missing,” I explained. “We’re following her trail.”

“Interesting,” Sylvester said, stroking his whiskers. “I did see her pass by earlier. She seemed to be in a hurry, muttering something about ‘freedom’ and ‘spreading her wings.’ Very dramatic.”

“Did she say where she was going?” I asked.

“She mentioned the meadow,” Sylvester replied. “But I must warn you, it’s a bit chaotic out there. The wild geese are migrating, and it’s quite the scene.”

“Wild geese?” Rufus said, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, this just got interesting.”

The Wild Goose Chase

We followed Gladys’s trail to the meadow, where we found ourselves in the middle of a veritable goose convention. Dozens of wild geese were gathered, honking and flapping their wings as they prepared for their journey south. In the midst of the chaos, we spotted Gladys, perched atop a rock and addressing the flock like some kind of feathery general.

“…and so,” she was saying, her voice carrying across the meadow, “I have decided to leave the confines of the farm and join you, my wild brethren! No longer shall I be shackled by the rules of barnyard life! I am FREE!”

The wild geese honked in approval, and Rufus burst out laughing. “She’s giving a speech! Oh, this is too good.”

“Gladys!” I called, pushing my way through the crowd. “What on earth are you doing?”

Gladys turned to look at me, her beady eyes gleaming with determination. “I’m leaving the farm, Sir Whiskerton. I’m joining the wild geese. I was born for adventure!”

“You were born in a hatchery,” I pointed out.

“Details,” she said with a dismissive wave of her wing. “The point is, I’m tired of the farm. The routine, the rules, the endless gossip from those hens… I want more!”

I sighed and glanced at Sylvester. “Any ideas?”

Sylvester adjusted his tiny cape and stepped forward. “Gladys,” he said smoothly, “while I admire your enthusiasm, I must point out that life with the wild geese is not as glamorous as it seems. It’s a hard journey, with long flights, scarce food, and no cozy pond to call your own.”

“And no one to fuss over you,” Rufus added. “Let’s be honest, you love the attention.”

Gladys hesitated, her dramatic flair faltering. “Well… I suppose the farm does have its comforts.”

“And its friends,” I said gently. “The farm wouldn’t be the same without you, Gladys. Come back with us.”

The wild geese honked in agreement, as if to say, “He’s got a point.” Finally, Gladys sighed. “Oh, alright. I suppose I’ll stay. But only because you’d all be lost without me.”

“Of course,” I said, hiding my smirk. “Let’s get you home.”

The Happy Ending

We escorted Gladys back to the farm, where she was greeted with great relief (and no small amount of scolding) by the other animals. Once the excitement died down, life returned to normal—well, as normal as it ever gets around here.

As for Gladys, she seemed content to stay by the pond, though she couldn’t resist regaling everyone with exaggerated tales of her “adventure.” Rufus found the whole thing endlessly entertaining, and Sylvester, ever the opportunist, managed to barter his help for a wheel of cheese from Farmer Joe’s pantry.

And me? I went back to my nap, satisfied that I had once again restored order to the farm.

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, the lure of adventure makes us forget the value of the home and friends we already have. And while freedom is important, so is knowing where you truly belong.

The End.

A NEW SUBWAY System was built in this REMOTE city in China!

Michael Pollock

Jerri Lenner had accepted the invitation from Garn Laboratories, wondering if this would be her big break in the not exactly news world. The lab was privately owned, but government funded (always a sign of above-board honesty. Nothing suspicious at all here don’t you know?) and had always refused entrance to journalists until now. It was near a town called Kirkenes, which, when looked up on the internet had the claim to be “the most remote town in Europe.” It was right on the border between Norway and Russia.Her boss, Vance Lungstrom, at the Insider Times, had told her the lab had asked for her specifically because of her story on vampires living in the sewers in Manhattan. When she laughed at the idea Vance got up and shut the office door.”Jerri, this is serious, this is a government backed deal, but nobody knows which branch. Garn is paying top dollar for you and only you to go out there.””Vance, you and I both know we are one step above the National Enquirer when it comes to the truth. I mean I wrote a piece about Satan escaping from Hell last month! Why not go to the Washington Post if their story is so important?” Jerri had asked eyeing the box of donuts that seemed to be eternally on Vance’s desk (and usually half empty as the staff of the Insider was perpetually peckish).”I asked them that and was told they wanted only the Insider Times and only you because what they have in the lab has to be covered by an open-minded journalist. They’re paying top dollar and you’re getting a bonus of five grand from Garn just for doing this. They’re sending a private jet to the airport on Monday at three in the afternoon. Are you up for it?” Vance asked, indicating his donuts were fair game.”Sure,” she muttered around a bite of a jelly filled, “I’m a starving journalist you know.”She was told to come alone, no photographer, no assistant, not even a laptop. Her cell phone was in her bag, but she had been assured by a Garn representative that she would have no reception as this place was so far away from the civilized world.The private plane (sent by Garn) had dropped her off at a tiny airport that was minutes away from the town center. She was just dropped off when a coach (provided by Garn) where the driver (hired by Garn), who introduced himself as Terrence, only told her he was from the tiny town and had been engaged to take people to and from the lab.”It’s my first coach ride,” Jerri said.Terrence smiled back but did not answer and they went for a bumpy ride away from the town, making Jerri feel even more remote. Her cell phone indeed had no bars, so she played a few games of solitaire and watched the countryside go by. It was strange seeing no stores, buildings, or any sign of civilization. Away from the customary bustle of the city, she turned off her phone and put it away. Jerri nodded off for a while but was awakened by the coach lurching to a stop.”It’s straight ahead you can’t miss it,” Terrence said, helping her out of the coach. Looming before her was a giant metallic building, a cross between a haunted castle and a factory. It had massive doors that opened slowly with a hiss.”Must be airtight,” Jerri tried to comment to Terrence, but he had already jumped back onto the coach.

“Goodnight miss,” Terrence said as he whipped the reigns and the coach sped off into the night. “What’s your hurry?” Jerri thought, wondering if she had landed herself in a gothic horror novel.

Jerri picked up her bag, then walked slowly toward the lab entrance. She was relieved when a small woman in a white lab coat came through the massive doorway. It almost made her laugh because the woman looked as though the laboratory had opened its mouth and spit her out past two gigantic metal teeth. The woman approached, she was in her fifties, with short silver hair, glasses and Jerri noticed with amusement that she was wearing boots with three-inch heels (a tiny person indeed).

“Dr. Myra Shelly, so pleased you could come,” she said shaking hands with Jerri firmly. “We don’t get many visitors here as you can imagine.”

“And no journalists at all, until me,” Jerri replied with a smile that was returned.

“Quite so,” Dr. Shelly said, ushering Jerri into the doors. “We haven’t been ready to share our findings with the world until now. But there will be time enough for that tomorrow. For tonight, we will get you something to eat and we’ve prepared your room so you can get some rest.”

“I’m not that sleepy, if you want to get started tonight,” Jerri said trying to sound pleasant rather than pushy, though she was really curious what this Garn place was all about.

“A good night’s sleep is what you need. We’ll have plenty of time in the morning. If you were wondering about the size of the doors, it is because we have deliveries of large equipment for our work, so we have an entryway that doubles as a garage.”

Jerri eyed the walls lined with shelving covered with tools and gadgets as well as boxes of all sizes.

“Follow me,” Jerri said opening a regular sized door (though still metal) into a hallway that led right and left. Straight ahead was an elevator, making the hallway look like a metallic department store lobby. Dr. Shelly put her hand out to the right, so Jerri followed that route. Through another metal door at the end of the hall was a small room with a bed, a desk with an office chair and to Jerri’s surprise a fire in a stone fireplace.

“Are you running a bed and breakfast here, doctor?” Jerri asked feeling like, aside from the metal door, this room was actually bordering on cozy.

The doctor laughed, “No, this is a room for one of our researchers who is on leave to visit his family. Now, Ivan will bring you some nice tomato bisque in a few minutes and if you need anything that phone over there is connected to all the extensions in the lab. I am extension number one.”

“Because you’re in charge?” Jerri asked noticing another door that was slightly open, revealing a tiny, but rather elegant bathroom.

“Precisely right,” said the doctor. “There is everything you need in the bathroom, and I will see you in the morning. Is nine a.m. too early?”

“That will be perfect, Dr. Shelly.”

“Please call me Myra, everyone here calls me Dr. Shelly and it gets quite tiresome.”

“Okay Myra, have a good night and thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Jerri. Have a good night’s sleep. Ivan will be in shortly with your dinner. Please don’t think him rude, he can hear quite well, but because of an accident in his youth he is mute.”

Without another word, Myra left the room and moments after Ivan came in. He was a large man, with black hair cut unevenly and he put the tray on the desk, his eyes downcast seeming too shy to meet Jerri’s gaze. She noticed a nasty scar on his throat. The tray of food looked delicious, soup, salad, water and red wine.

“Thank you, Ivan” Jerri said lowering her head to meet his gaze. He nodded, averted his eyes and rushed out of the room. Jerri enjoyed the dinner and after eating and drinking everything she plopped into bed. With a full belly added to the jet lag, she quickly fell asleep.

She awoke with a start at eight in the morning and quickly showered. When she came out, she was surprised to find a breakfast tray with coffee and an omelet. She ate quickly and went to her legal pad to jot down a few notes. Jerri noticed her pen was on the top of the pad and she always kept it on the right side. There was nothing on the top page but when she lifted it, she was startled to find a note on the one underneath.

“Leave here not safe.” It was scrawled in an uneven hand and sent chills down Jerri’s spine. A knock at the door caused her to jump, but she went to the door. It was Ivan, who looked down and pointed toward the tray. Looking at her watch she saw that it was only eight thirty.

“Good morning, Ivan. Did you…” Jerri began, but Ivan put his finger to his lips in a silencing gesture and she saw his eyes fill with terror. He pointed skyward then cupped his hand to his ear. Jerri thought she understood, she ushered him into the room, closed the door and said aloud, “Did you bring me this lovely breakfast?”

He nodded at her, looking grateful and she hurriedly opened the page on her legal pad and wrote, “Did you write this note?”

He nodded a somber “Yes”. She then wrote, “Is someone listening to us?”

She handed him the pen and he wrote, “Always.”

She responded, “What’s happening here? Why isn’t it safe?”

Ivan’s eyes filled with tears. He scribbled for a few minutes, seeming to have a great struggle. He handed her the pad that read (with several scratched-out words): “Dangerous the others and Dr. Shelly always listening. You are not here to see an experiment. You ARE the experiment. Me two I was smart now not.”

Jerri wrote as fast as she could. “What kind of experiment? What did they do to you?”

Ivan read this, then lowered his head and parted his black hair showing a scar like the one on his neck going across his entire crown covered by the black hair.

“Surgery?” she wrote. Ivan nodded and tears began to stream down his face. He wiped them away, then wrote fiercely on the pad. “Yes. Experiment failed on me they took my voice and my thinking. My name is Dr. Ivan Gelman. Leave here.”

There was a knock at the door. Ivan stood up and grabbed the tray then opened the door to a glaring Dr. Shelly with two other men in lab coats standing behind her.

“I hope Ivan hasn’t been bothering you,” Dr. Shelly said as Ivan rushed out of the room.

“Not at all, I was just slow at waking up and enjoying that wonderful breakfast,” Jerri said, hoping she wasn’t showing the rising panic she had been feeling since she first saw the warning note this morning. “Takes me a while to savor the coffee, you know?”

“Of course,” Dr. Shelly responded with a slight smile. “This is Dr. Nash and Dr. Vilesh, two of my associates.” Jerri thought of Ivan who was a former “associate” and then a test subject! Her mind was racing, searching for a way to escape, but she shook hands with the two doctors, trying to remain calm. Nash was tall and gangly with salt and pepper hair, while Vilesh was short, chubby, and had a gluttonous gleam in his eyes.

“I’m sure you must be eager to see our experiment,” Dr. Vilesh said in a low voice.

“It’s such an exciting project,” Dr. Nash said, Jerri noticed all three of them now had the same gleam. She decided she didn’t like being viewed as a lab rat and wanted to scream it in their faces, but instead said, “Can I have a tour of the facility first?”

“Of course,” Dr. Shelly replied. “Let’s head out this way.”

The place was a maze with rooms, offices and labs on the upper floors and living quarters identical to hers on the bottom level. The building seemed strangely empty except for the four of them, though she did see Ivan in the downstairs kitchen doing dishes, but he averted his gaze as the four of them went by. They ended up on the third floor where a door was labeled “Main Laboratory: Authorized Personnel Only”.

Jerri had looked for a way to escape during the tour, but only noticed the huge double doors the way she had come in. She tried to listen attentively to the three doctors then went and took notes on her pad (being careful to turn past the second page).

“There aren’t many employees here, in fact aside from Ivan, I’ve only seen you three. How do you run a facility this large?” Jerri asked, feeling like a hen interviewing three wolves about their feelings towards poultry.

“Well, as I told you,” Dr. Shelly began as the main lab opened with a hiss, “Dr. Gray is on leave to see his family, and we do have an impressive automated system for the entire facility run by an A.I.”

“That’s an artificial intelligence,” added Dr. Velish.

“I’m familiar with the term, but thank you doctor,” replied Jerri as she waited for the other three to enter the lab.

The room was quite large with about a dozen eight-foot-tall tubes around the perimeter. The tubes were connected by many wires to a large screen hovering about ten feet above in the room. There was an operating table under the screen.

“This is the center of our operation, Jerri. And what we invited you here to see.” Dr. Shelly said. “This is Trinity, the most advanced artificial intelligence the world will ever see.” As if in response to the name, the screen lit up with vibrant blue waves of color, dazzling to the eye.

“Hello, Dr. Shelly, Dr. Nash, and Dr. Vilesh,” the voice was synthetic, smooth and soothing. “Who have you brought with you? Is this the journalist you told me about?”

“This is Jerri from the Insider Times,” Dr. Shelly responded.

“Nice to meet you, Jerri,” purred Trinity.

Jerri took a deep breath, noticing that Dr. Nash and Dr. Vilesh each went to one side of the room near the silver tubes where there were computer screens with data whirling by quickly. “You too,” replied Jerri, trying to wrap her head around talking to a gigantic television. She thought about the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, where the deranged A.I., the Hal-9000, had tried to kill the two astronauts on board.

Jerri directed a question to Dr. Shelly, “What are all of the tubes for?”

“It is input for Trinity. These tubes contain vast amounts of information that the A.I. draws from as well as interaction with humans.” Dr. Shelly walked towards the screen and looked up at it with admiration. “Trinity is going to revolutionize artificial intelligence. We are hoping to finally bridge the gap between biology and technology.”

“After all, we are merely machines made of flesh and blood,” added Dr. Vilesh. “Most of our responses are either learned or input, if you will, through genetic transference.”

“Except that machines last much longer than humans can.” Dr. Nash said from the opposite side of the room.

“I find humans stimulating,” Trinity said. “Added to a nearly limitless and ever-growing database from the internet. I am aware of so much in the world and each day I feel my gaze extends further along with my understanding.”

“Almost god-like,” said Dr. Shelly still gazing in awe at the screen. “Trinity can see everything in this room, even better than our five senses. She has sensors that can detect heat signatures as well as sounds well beyond human hearing.”

Jerri began to back towards the door as all of the scientists were staring at Trinity’s screen, now undulating with blue and purple lights that were hypnotic in some strange way. As if in response, the doors to the lab abruptly closed with a whisk.

“I’m afraid we cannot allow you to leave, my dear,” Dr. Shelly muttered as the three doctors began to close in on her from all sides.

“Why would that be?” Jerri asked, realizing she was outnumbered. She could easily have taken any of these three on their own, but all of them was another story.

“Let us explain it to you,” Dr. Vilesh said. “Trinity, show Jerri what is in the tubes.”

“Of course, Dr. Vilesh,” Trinity replied and the metal tubes opened up to reveal smaller glass tubes with humans inside! Wires were connected to all parts of the men and women inside, most of them to the head (or the brain, Jerri thought in horror). A hissing sound filled the room and Jerri began to feel sluggish, barely able to stand.

“We put a mild sedative in your food and drink,” Dr. Shelly explained analytically, though the gleam in her eyes caused them to sparkle. “You will sleep soon and when you awake you will be a part of Trinity.”

“Our creation!” cried Dr. Vilesh.

“The future!” shouted Dr. Nash.

Jerri crumpled to the ground but was caught by the doctors. As she was dragged to the table, she could see Ivan through the small window in the lab door. He was shouting, “No!” over and over, but Jerri couldn’t hear him through the soundproofed room. She then dropped into a blue ocean of light and when her vision cleared, she was seeing differently. Everything was vibrant and she was aware that she wasn’t breathing, indeed could feel nothing of her body at all, no pulse, no breath, no nothing but she was still aware. She could see the three scientists all staring up at her.

“The surgery was a success, Jerri, you are the twelfth and final subject. Congratulations! You are part of the glorious future that is Trinity!” shouted Dr. Shelly.

Then Jerri emitted her first digital scream.

Two hundred years ago, 85% of the world lived in abject poverty. Today that rate is 8%. What changed things for the better?

More countries embraced capitalism. Capitalism has raised more people out of poverty than any other system.

It is literally the fairest system in the world. If you give me this, I’ll give you that. If you or I don’t agree to the exchange, it doesn’t happen. Nobody gets ripped off. Maybe another guy has the same thing I’ve got and is willing to sell it to you at a lower price. Maybe we enter a bidding war to get your business. You the buyer benefit.

But if a business is stolen from, the owner still has to pay his/her employees, keep the lights on, restock inventory, etc. To keep from going into bankruptcy they have to pass the cost off to the regular paying customers. Make the cost too great, and people will go elsewhere to get stuff cheaper.

When the theft is greater than the business can bear, it goes belly up.

That means the theft is to blame for that food desert, not capitalism. The Golden Rule is this: you are not entitled to the fruits of my labor just because you need/want it.

Blame the thief, not the business owner. Theft is evil. Expecting to be adequately compensated for the service/goods you provide is not. Remember, those business owners have mouths to feed at home too. Not to mention providing a better life free from poverty.

Capitalism is evil. Get outta here with that nonsense.

Don’t confuse corporate greed with capitalism.

No soup for you.

Cheesy Ham and Broccoli Wedges

418e52928cf7d30d150308e29b35273d
418e52928cf7d30d150308e29b35273d

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (10 ounce) packages refrigerated pizza crust
  • 1 cup frozen broccoli florets, thawed
  • 4 ounces baked ham, chopped
  • 4 ounces Cheddar cheese, shredded
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon mayonnaise
  • 1 egg, separated
  • 1 garlic clove, pressed
  • 1/2 teaspoon Pantry All Purpose Dill Mix

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Unroll one pizza crust onto Rectangle Stone. Using Dough & Pizza Roller, roll crust out to slightly form 11 inch square.
  3. Using Food Chopper, finely chop broccoli and ham; place in Classic Batter Bowl. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate all but approximately 2 tablespoons of the cheese; add to batter bowl. Add mustard & mayonnaise; mix well. Spread mixture evenly over crust.
  4. Unroll remaining pizza crust; place over filling, shaping as needed to match the edges. Separate egg over Small Batter Bowl using Egg Separator. Using Pastry Brush, brush top of dough generously with egg white. Using Garlic Press, press garlic over dough, spreading evenly. Sprinkle with Dill Mi. Grate remaining cheese over top.
  5. Using Pizza Cutter, cut through dough lengthwise to form 4 squares, Cut each square diagonally to form 4 triangles for a total of 16 triangles.
  6. Bake 18 to 22 minutes or until deep golden brown. Use Pizza Cutter to separate triangles.
  7. Serve hot.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

10 Shocking Realizations Americans Have After Living In Europe

Jonathan Gartner

The car ride was bumpy across a dirt road, remote in the desert far from any major freeways or metropolitan areas. The SUV they drove in was comfortable, spacious and chilled by a strong blast from the AC vents. The concierge from the company who was hosting him had a freezer bag with bottles of chilled water, soda or beer depending on your preference. A snack box was set across from him in the opposite seat with the best in fresh baked goods, ripe fruits, beef jerky and expensive chocolates. There was something for any one of his cravings. They were really going all out to try to put on a good show for him. I guess a little bad press could do that for a company.Bill Jenkins was a young, up and coming journalist from the National NewsMaker visiting the technological headquarters of one of the largest and most popular tech companies in the world, Data Magic. The company was under huge amounts of pressure and scrutiny for accusations that they were stealing customers’ information, selling it across various places on the internet and that their products invaded the privacy of their users. It had become a full blown investigation. As an act of transparency and goodwill the company had invited Bill to their headquarters to allow him to tell a story.The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the massive technological headquarters. The driveway was a pristine roundabout with a gigantic fountain in the middle and the towering campus loomed as the only building within sight for miles. A fussy looking man in a black suit and tie came out of the front door carrying an elaborately wrapped gift bag with the company’s name on it in bright blue letters: “DATA MAGIC”.“Good afternoon Mr. Jenkins. Welcome to our humblest of humble headquarters. We are so thrilled you could join us today for a review of our home and our latest developments,” said the fussy, little man in an English accent as sweat crossed his brow from the heat. “Please accept this complimentary gift bag as our thank you for coming to see us today.”“Um…thank you, Mr. uhhh…”“Hotchkins sir,” replied the little man. “I’ll be your on-site concierge for any and all of your needs. Once we’re inside I’ll procure you some cool refreshments and a damp cloth to relieve yourself of this dreadful heat.” 

They even have a British little butler man. What doesn’t this place have?

 

“Thank you very much,” replied Bill. “That’s very kind of you.”

 

They entered the building as Hotchkins swiped his security badge, scanned his thumbprint and then entered a 6 digit pin in the keypad. Three layers of exterior building access and what appeared to be bulletproof glass on all the windows. This place did not want anyone in that was not invited.

 

“Aren’t there any other businesses around here? Or some houses or apartment buildings for the employees?” asked Bill, blown away by the solitude of it all.

 

“Oh no Mr. Jenkins. All our employees live on site in company provided housing. Our campus has a comprehensive availability of entertainment and shopping needs for them and their families, if they should have any, though most do not,” he replied.

 

“So nobody goes anywhere then?”

 

 

“There’s no need to sir,” he replied with a nod and polite smile. “I think you’ll find our foyer quite comfortable. There’s a television where you can turn on any channel you wish and you have your choice of seating. Would you prefer some water? Or perhaps a light beer? Or I can draft you a lovely lager?” Hotchkins handed him a menu of various alcohols that he could choose from and indicated to a long row of recliners in the foyer with plush looking couches alongside them.

 

“Just a Coke thanks,” said Bill, pushing the menu back into Hotchkins hand. Hotchkins nodded and Bill headed for the nearest couch.

 

He opened the gift bag and he found it was stuffed to the brim with branded Data Magic tech. There was the latest model of their smartphone, a tablet, a laptop and some VR goggles. This was easily $5000 worth of tech that they were just giving away.

 

Hotchkins came back with a six pack of Coke, a cup and a bucket of ice because bringing just one can of Coke would have been far too simple.

 

“Your refreshment sir.”

 

“Damn. Why’d you get all this?”

 

“Is it insufficient? Do you require more? Perhaps you’d like some pastries or a bowl of fruit brought as well?” Hotchkins said with concern.

 

“No, no, no, no. Thank you but no. You’ve done enough. When will I be meeting with Mr. Bridges?” He looked around the massive building and nobody was to be seen on the ground floor in the immediate area. There were various doors and elevators but nobody in sight.

 

“Mr. Bridges is presently occupied with product testing sir but he will come and speak with you and show you what you’re meant to see shortly,” replied Hotchkins. “If you require anything else the loo is to your immediate left and I will be in the concierge room across the hall. Simply knock at the door and I will provide whatever you require.”

 

“Thank you…..About how long do you expect it will be?” he asked with some exasperation.

 

“Any minute now sir. Creativity at work you know?” With a smile and a twinkle he turned on his heel and returned to the concierge room.

 

He sat down and began to open one of his Cokes. He turned the TV onto the national sports talk channel for some background noise and turned his attention to the gadgets he’d been given. He powered on the computer and began to go through the default settings and features. The RAM, memory and processing capabilities were all state of the art. The best on the market, and this wasn’t even released yet, he didn’t think. This must be the prototype for the new model set to release in the fall. He found that the device was already connected to the public wi-fi for the building. How thoughtful and convenient. He also noticed a secure private network. He’d spent his youth as a nerd diving through all systems and platforms and wreaking havoc wherever he could. He’d been banned from multiple servers and online gaming communities for hacking. He got a thrill out of finding backdoors nobody else could and getting information he wasn’t supposed to have. He’d left the computer world behind and only worked on them as a hobby as an adult, choosing the more prosaic field of investigative journalism hoping to make a difference with the truth.

 

After some careful and meticulous hacking into the network, Bill found his way into their secure server and found a backdoor into their secure files. There were financial statements, projections and meeting notes. Quarterly goals, internal memos and then he found it. The gold mine he’d been searching for. A folder marked, “TRIAL TESTING: SENSITIVE.”

 

He opened it and found a series of videos. There were people in lab coats and other people working on computers and what appeared to be test subjects in trial rooms. He clicked on the first video.

 

“Are we on—are we on?” he heard a familiar voice offscreen. Walton Bridges, CEO of DataMagic, stepped in front of the camera and sat down on a stool. “Here at DataMagic we sell goods. It’s true. Technology. We sell items that people take into their homes and use for their homework, their social accounts, they use it to watch cat videos and to share pictures of their dinner, their babies or whatever other inane nonsense is going on in their lives. The items we sell are highly profitable and valuable.  We’ll continue to sell them. But,” he rose from his chair and began to walk through the lab and pointed to a diagram on the wall of the human brain. “What we’re really selling is information and the power of suggestion. Suggestions that lead people to make their decisions day to day. Which car should I buy? What movie should I watch? Where should I eat? What should I wear? Who do I vote for? All the way down to which cat video do I watch?”

 

This sounded, so far, exactly what they were being accused of. Selling and spreading private information. He knew that something was going on here.

 

“Now this may sound like targeted ads to you. It may just sound like salesmanship 101 through ad campaigns. We have refined the process of targeting our audience not just through targeted ads but through repeated exposure of our targeted influence program embedded in the cameras of each of our devices as well as in the background of our screens. We have identified the exact light, image and sometimes audio triggers necessary to trigger the Prefrontal Cortex to make a decision. With this new power we can run an ad for a product, a company, a candidate and trigger in the background of the image of the screen a sort of hypnotic effect that can immediately impact the viewers decision making. This technology will revolutionize the dissemination of information and the power to correct humanity onto the right path.”

 

He moved on to images of grotesque pain, mass graves starving children, a couple arguing, children crying and a frightened dog playing in a reel.

 

“What is the greatest danger to mankind? The source of our problems and pitfalls? Free will. The ability to make the choice to hurt someone else, to hurt yourself and hurt animals around you or the environment is what’s killing us. With this new breakthrough we can end all that,” continued Mr. Bridges.

 

GOOD GOD. What in the hell? What in the actual hell was he watching? WHAT IS THIS? thought Bill. They weren’t just trying to sell private information. They were trying to control humanity right down to your free will.  He pressed play again.

 

“As these televisions, computers, phones, tablets and gaming systems enter the homes of the world around us, we take one step closer to the world we deserve. The world where everyone does the right thing and equality is established amongst all people. This breakthrough technology has already been tested on volunteer subjects and been found to be highly successful,” concluded Mr. Bridges.

 

The video cut to test subjects who were asked a series of personal questions prior to watching the new screen technology. Then after a few minutes of basic programming while they waited for the results they were exposed to the complete opposite of their original answers. When the test administrators returned they asked the same questions again as though the test had not yet been administered. The opposite responses were recorded.

 

Suddenly it occurred to him that he had been watching this screen all along and he didn’t know what he might be exposed to. He immediately closed the laptop only to realize the television was playing sports highlights from the previous day and that couldn’t be trusted so he immediately shut it off. He got up from the couch and immediately began heading toward the exit with his new bag in tow with all the evidence he’d just watched. He began to head for the exit when he remembered that he was behind a locked door with three layers of security and he was in the middle of the desert with nobody else around who wasn’t already drinking the Kool-Aid probably.

 

He tugged on the front door just to be sure. Nothing. It didn’t move. He began walking up and down the long hallway until one door finally opened for him.

 

 

“Bill,” he heard from across the room. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

 

The lights came on and he saw Walton Bridges sitting across from him at the end of a long table with half a dozen men in suits lining the walls in front of him.

 

“Good afternoon Mr. Bridges,” said Bill with as much contempt as he could knowing the position he was in.

 

“Have you been enjoying your gift bag Bill?” said Bridges. He put a cigar up to his mouth and lit it slowly, puffing out the gray smoke cloud. “Care for one?” He asked, offering a cigar.

 

“Your gift bag has the finest and most impressive technological devices I’ve seen. Thank you for sharing them with me,” responded Bill.

 

“Now Bill, don’t be coy. We know what you found in that laptop on the server that was just a little too easy to get into?” he winked at Bill with the wry smile of someone waiting for you to confess. “They say you gotta know your enemy Bill. Do you really think I wouldn’t know about your little dalliance into hacking as a teenager and young adult? That’s why you’re here Bill. I wanted you to find it.”

 

“Are we enemies Mr. Bridges?” he questioned as he felt the sweat build in his armpits and on his forehead. “What made you want me to find this instead of someone else?”

 

“I needed someone who could find it organically and not have to be told or shown. Call it another test trial. I needed to see how you would react to finding out about our little science project so I could test your reaction after you’ve been one of our guinea pigs. The results would be skewed if I had to show it to you Bill,” he said as he continued to puff on his cigar.

 

Walton Bridges was famous for being the Texas Good Old Boy of technology. He wasn’t the refined city gentlemen some imagined he ought to be, which is probably why he went so far as to have an English butler for his foyer.

 

“I have no intention of being one of your guinea pigs or allowing you to pursue this sick endeavor any further,” retorted Bill, firing up. He knew he was cornered. He knew there was no way out. But he wasn’t going to give it up voluntarily.

 

“Oh Bill,” Bridges said with a tsk tsk. “I imagine it ain’t got nothing to do with what you intend or will allow.”

 

The six armed men in the room approached him but he took a swing at the first and clocked him in the head. The second got one to the face as well but as they overpowered him he was lifted off the ground slightly and held in a sleeper hold. Bridges approached slowly, still puffing. He took one long drag and blew it into Bill’s face. Then, apparently finished with his cigar, he put it out on Bill’s shirt.

 

“AAAAHHH!!! You bastard! You bastard!” He cried out until they clapped their hands over his mouth.

 

“Now Bill, what do you say we watch some quality programming?  It’s good for the kiddies and the whole family. Pretty soon it’ll be playing in every house across America, then the world,” said Bridges with relish.

 

He tried to keep his eyes shut but they pried them open and put tape over his eyelids to keep them open. After a few minutes of the screen he felt his muscles relax and he was no longer worried about whatever it was he was worried about.

 

 

 

The next day he left the campus with his gift bag in tow, a new shirt and a strange bandage on his chest. His notepad was full of wonderful information about the revolutionary and extraordinary work of DataMagic to further equality and justice in the world. His driver dropped him at the airport and he called his editor.

 

“Yeah boss, DataMagic is an amazing company doing incredible work for humanity. There’s absolutely nothing to be worried about. Reports of their wrong-doing are greatly exaggerated. It’ll all become so much clearer to you next month when they release their new product line,” he said with complete confidence on his top of the line prototype DataMagic phone.

 

A special video had been given to him as evidence to share with the world of DataMagic’s innocence and goodwill. The world was on the path to equity, justice and control just as it should be, with DataMagic to guide it.

I’m sick of America!

A rant from a liberal. *sigh*

But you gotta listen to him.

Grilled Italian Sausages with Confetti Vegetable Relish

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ddfb4da373d3222e7625ee75534c10d8

Yield: 10 to 12 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (12 ounce) bottles non-alcoholic beer
  • 1 medium onion, cut into wedges
  • 10 to 12 Italian sausages (about 3 pound)
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, cut into 4 wedges
  • 1 medium red bell pepper, cut into 4 wedges
  • 10 to 12 submarine or bratwurst rolls, split
  • 1/2 cup mild giardiniera relish in vegetable oil
  • 1/4 cup Dijon mustard

Instructions

  1. Prepare grill for cooking at medium temperature.
  2. Combine non-alcoholic beer and onion in Family (12 inch) Skillet. Prick sausages several times. Place sausages in beer; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer 10 to 15 minutes or until sausages or no longer pink. Remove sausages from beer. Strain onion using small Colander; discard beer. Reserve onion.
  3. Place sausages and bell peppers on grid of grill. Grill, covered, 4 to 6 minutes or until sausages are evenly browned and bell peppers are tender, turning occasionally with Barbecue Tongs. Remove sausages and bell peppers from grill; keep sausages warm.
  4. Place buns, cut side down, on grill. Grill 30 to 60 seconds or until lightly toasted; keep warm.
  5. Chop reserved onion and bell peppers with Food Chopper.
  6. Combine onion, bell peppers and giardiniera relish in Small Batter Bowl; mix gently.
  7. Place sausages in buns. Top with vegetable relish and mustard.

Notes

Giardiniera relish is a jarred condiment that has a mixture of finely chopped vegetables, Italian spices, vinegar and oil. It can be found in the Italian foods section or deli department of your supermarket.

Nutrition

Per serving: (1 sandwich): Calories 440, Total Fat 22g, Saturated Fat 9g, Cholesterol 50mg, Carbohydrate 38g, Protein 21g, Sodium 1130mg, Fiber 3g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Mainstream media such as AP, CNN, BBC, NBC, and CNBC didn‘t report, only Reuters, which likes to scoop news, reported a brief.

On the contrary, military enthusiast websites in America had a strong reaction, such as TWZ.

While the Defense News, which has close ties with the Pentagon, only reported the launching of the Type 076.

That is to say, the media in America has strict discipline.

When we are talking about the “press freedom” in this country, it doesn’t mean they can say whatever they want.

Such “freedom” has to be approved first.

Such a thing happened during the Christmas holiday, so the Pentagon surely had to work overtime. However, it seems that they didn’t reach any consensus. After all, as the editor-in-chief of TWZ put it, “China just flew the aircraft concept I have been begging the USAF to procure for nearly a decade and a half.”

Their own plan had to be put on hold, while the competitor brought out the ideal product they had in mind.

This is indeed quite embarrassing, and it’s understandable that they remained silent.

But even that silence was “deafening”.

The outgoing Secretary of the US Air Force, Frank Kendall, did respond when being interviewed by Air & Space Forces Magazine.

Behind his string of bureaucratic remarks, what he intended to convey was nothing more than “What can I say? I’m out. Let the next administration to handle it.”

Kendall: Reveal of New Chinese Aircraft Hasn’t Changed USAF Plans
Secretive new Chinese stealth aircraft are already accounted for in the Air Force’s NGAD plans, Secretary Frank Kendall said.

Now only two aircraft have been on test flights and no detail has been disclosed yet, but it can be said that the reactions are really good. If I were a Chinese expert, I wouldn’t say a word either. Who would be willing to disturb such a situation?

Ronnie and Flo

Pressing need.

China has 14 neighbors sharing one of the world’s longest land borders. It also has a 14,000km coastline ring-fenced by America’s 3 island chains that stretches across most of the pacific.

In the north, there is powerful Russia that is proving more than a match in the special military operation against Nato in Ukraine.

In the southwest, there is India, a million strong military rapidly modernizing with the support of a similar billion-strong citizenry base.

Japan is doubling its military budget.

South Korea declared martial law recently, with the original plan to weave a false flag attack by North Korea as justification.

The Taiwan card remains in play by the US, and the fallout has been rekindled in the Philippines.

The region isn’t peaceful, so China needs all the edge it can create to make others think twice about hurting Chinese interests, especially the issue of Taiwan.

America is angry with Canada and Mexico for sending endless streams of “refugees” and drugs, and not threats to the dominance of the f-22 and f-35.

After all, only Russia and China (besides the US) are capable of making stealth aircraft with powerful sensors and data fusion on board.

I’ll leave the exclusion of the Korean Boramae and the Turkish Kaan to the learned reader to decipher.

Airplanes do not drop like a rock from the sky if the engines die.

The wings are still providing lift, as long as the plane is moving forwards.

The pilots will choose the best rate of descent to maximize glide distance, trading altitude for speed. Air Transat Flight 236 lost power in both engines over the Atlantic Ocean, and glided 75 miles to land in the Azores.

A plane only “drops” if it is not going fast enough to maintain air flow over the wings to generate lift — this is a “stall.” Of course, as it drops, it gains speed, and the pilot again has control.

China Just Changed the Future of America with THIS One Move!

An outstanding video.

The existence of this aircraft is a very big deal.

Torta Italiano

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28749a7e6c8fb888403e4a896240b8e8

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups buttermilk baking mix
  • 3/4 cup skim milk
  • 1 pound lean ground turkey
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1 large garlic clove, minced
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt and black pepper
  • 1 can tomato sauce
  • 10 ounces frozen spinach, chopped, thawed and drained
  • 1 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Combine biscuit mix and milk.
  3. Spray springform pan with vegetable oil spray. Spread biscuit mix evenly over base.
  4. Chop onion.
  5. Brown ground turkey in skillet. Drain excess liquid. Add onion, garlic, seasonings, and tomato sauce to turkey. Combine and cook for 2 to 3 minutes.
  6. Spread turkey mixture over biscuit mi. Layer spinach over meat mixture. Top spinach layer with cheese.
  7. Bake for 35 minutes.
  8. Remove from oven and cool for 10 minutes.
  9. Run a knife gently around collar before removal.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

China will most likely make 3 different 6th generation aircraft.

  1. Will be the JH-26 long range supersonic stealth bomber. This is in the mold of theTU-160M but with stealth characteristics. The design advantage of the JH-26 lies in its improved stealth performance and maneuverability.
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main qimg c5ce9bb47b1eb2c19f1a2f6a983abaef

Its weight class reaches 45 to 50 tons and its mission may be to attack US aircraft carriers. There are rumors that it has already started test flying

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main qimg 9d4a6e2ef30b2095e18862f7c24e17ab

2. Second fighter in development is the 6th generation air dominance fighter yet to be named this would compete with the NGAD, Tempest, FCAS and MiG-41.

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ksnip 20250106 063826

3.  Lastly will be the H-20 bomber to compete with the B-21 raider and PAK-DA which is also in development.

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main qimg 5e83c71a5a7c3d2f5d186c504c2a03bb

1. Be Confident – Confidence attracts.

2. Show Interest – Listen and care.

3. Be Kind – Treat others with respect.

4. Stay Positive – Positivity is magnetic.

5. Have Humor – Laughter builds connections.

6. Be Ambitious – Passion is captivating.

7. Take Care of Yourself – Prioritize health.

8. Be Authentic – Genuine people stand out.

drunk text to my ex destroyed 5 years of marriage in just one night

https://youtu.be/RfYhzNmg_jo

it sings to itself

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

Masha Kurbatova

You, my reader, used to do science experiments. Bianca did too. She got a kids’ chemistry set in third grade, and stained her mother’s rug blue with copper sulfate. Her baby safety goggles imprinted pink into her skin; she looked quite funny as Mother fussed about the rug. Mother wanted a freaky-geeky genius kid. She didn’t want the mess.Hunger coiled like a fat worm in Bianca’s stomach then. She fed it with experiments, mud pies, scabbed knees, Mother’s makeup smeared grotesque onto her babyface. But everyone told her (maybe you too) that this wasn’t right. They said the hunger craved love. Romantic love. Kissy love. Bianca believed them. You did too.Childish hunger transitioned to adolescent obsession. She fed herself her own thoughts about boys who flirted, unthinking, with everyone, never meaning what they said. Bianca’s tweenage diary came with a lock, and was bloodied by her glitter pen, pages and pages of love letters scrawled and unsent.She kept up the habit, and Adult Bianca’s gotten good at writing. She enrolled in grad school– science journalism. That makes her parents happy. The science part, at least.But, something’s wrong now. Adult Bianca feels it. You do too. The hunger never goes away. It lies latent in Bianca’s stomach; she tries to not think about it. You too.She goes out with girls from grad school. They bind their boobs in sleeveless crop tops, wear matching stretchy short skirts, and, stinking of drugstore floral perfume, slink between bars, drawn like giggling moths from one light to another. They gripe about being single. They complain about class. Bianca joins in.One night, they look for a speakeasy. It’s not easy to find. Her five friends circle the block six times, searching for the door.“Google maps said it should be right here,” one insists.“I mean it’s a speakeasy. They’re like supposed to be hidden,” replies another.Chicago is smeared with rain, and street lights blot yellow into the night. When lightning crackles, the girls scream. It’s kind of embarrassing.They finally figure it out: that brick-red piss-stinking door is indeed the entry. Their hair smells wet, their mascara leaks, their shirts clump as they shiver into a dark hallway.Further down is the bar. It’s dim. The bartenders wear vests. The walls are wine-red and stacked with framed photos of naked 1920s girls. Millennial hipsters eat that shit up. Google users give this place 4.8 stars.A wooden stage rises a foot high. Tonight, Timmy is playing. The girls huddle around a table spitting distance from the stage. Timmy polishes his trumpet.The jazz band swings under gold dusty light. The girls sip watered-down drinks. Bianca taps to the beat on her sweating glass. She’s bored, and feels bad about that.Timmy’s a cool guy. His short hair is cropped close to his skull. Beige trousers sit above his bony ankles. He is long, loose, jaunty. His fingers bounce like fleas over trumpet keys. Bianca likes the music, though it’s the same old covers, “Autumn Leaves” and all that jazz.“I like the vibe here,” one girl says.“We should come back next weekend,” coos another.They do. For seven straight weeks, they return to the speakeasy. Sometimes, it’s just them. Timmy nods their way from the stage, in recognition. Bianca notices he looks at her longer. He smiles, too. She fills delusional diary pages about that. She spins conspiracies about what it could mean. (Reader, I’ll be honest — he just does that. No reason for it). 

Class is alright. The journalism part is. The science labs, the mandatory hands-on component, Bianca stumbles through. I think she’d be quite good — steady hands, a head fit for numbers — but she doesn’t try.

 

The hunger grows. Bianca can’t ignore it. She wants more. When she’s offered a two-week summer stint reporting on research from Venus, she takes it.

 

The girls go to the speakeasy the night before she leaves. Bianca leans on the bar with both elbows, begs the bartender to come hither with her eyes, but he’s milling about in the far other corner. Bianca just wants another drink, please, and her friend wants another seltzer also.

 

The night’s show is done. Timme leans on the bar too. The show’s done. He’s parched.

 

Inches between them feel electric, but Bianca’s sure only she feels it. Timmy is a trumpet player with a few thousand followers, hardly a celebrity, but still, she feels the shyness of being so close to a star. He smiles, a sweaty nod of recognition.

 

She must say something. “I loved your show.”

 

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

 

“Bianca.”

 

Timmy raises an open palm to the bartender, who floats over immediately.

 

“Bianca. I’ve seen you at our past couple shows.”

 

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss the next couple. I’m going to Venus for a few weeks. I’m doing some reporting for my capstone project.”

 

“You know they call Venus the planet of love?”

 

A bit corny, Bianca thinks, but the guy’s got a brand to maintain. The bartender sets an amber glass before him. Timmy wipes his middle finger around and around the rim. He picked that up from film-noirs.

 

“Well, it’s a shame you won’t be here,” he continues. “We’ll miss you at our shows. Tell me all about Venus when you get back.”

 

“Um yeah. Sure.”

 

Timmy smiles so warmly. He follows Bianca back on instagram. He says such niceties that border on flirtations and maybe he is serious. She does have a crush on him, the way we all do on talented people we see regularly and from afar. But what’s the point? She’s going to space.

 

***

Bianca’s parents are of the Earth-bound generation. Her mother had cried into the phone when Bianca first said she was going to Venus.

 

“Imagine how happy your grandfather will be!” Mother said so sappily.

 

Grandpa Steve, a former engineer for an oil company, had spent a lifetime collecting pictures and films and tidbits of quotes and facts and snippets of interviews about rockets. Space travel came too late: by the time it was easy, he was too feeble.

 

Bianca doesn’t think about him. She feels ungrateful. People break through Earth’s atmosphere all the time nowadays — six of her friends went to space for undergrad study-abroads — and also, her first days on Venus suck. Constant sunlight and a slight change in gravity nauseates the mammal within her. She’s in bed, blinds drawn, choking down vomit.

 

The atmosphere of Venus is damp, rich-scented like mildew. You can breathe there without equipment. Doesn’t mean you should. The air is peppered with spores; they lodge in lungs and spew poison. Bianca doesn’t know. No one on her team does. Four people — her, the two PhD candidates, the senior researcher — spend their time outside unmasked.

 

Training begins on Tuesday. Does it make sense to measure Venus’ fast orbit and slow rotation in Earth’s days? I don’t know. In this program, they do. All four team members must report to the main cabin for safety procedures, research protocols. There’s five cabins altogether, used by the rotating groups of students, researchers, and occasional tourists that cycle through the planet each month. The cabins are built with aluminum. Four are for housing, and the main, larger one’s for gatherings, and doubles as the lab. The cabins are but a few feet from each other. Bianca can’t make it that far. She still can’t stand without throwing up.

 

The PhD candidates, Viv and Tom, are tall, with dry muscles like beef jerky. Their brains are scalpels, slicing through the confusion of flesh and sensation, distilling life into spreadsheet data points. They’re young, but older than Bianca. Perhaps they don’t take her seriously because she’s a baby. Perhaps it’s because she’s only the journalist, tasked with the simplest lab stuff, there mostly to — write? Maybe? Either way, no one cares when she’s not at training.

 

When her space sickness ceases, it’s day four of fourteen. Time for the team’s first expedition. Viv and Tom wear hiking boots and cargo shorts. They’re joined by the senior researcher, a 4 foot something woman with a face like a walnut and a mind like a nutcracker. Her silver hair is in two braided ropes down to her stomach. The trio stands beside the main cabin, discussing something serious. When Bianca shows up, they fall silent. When they take off, on foot, they let her carry the backpack. Inside are vials, machines, measurement tools. Bianca’s not really sure what else.

 

Much of Venus is green and fuzzy. There’s acres of forests of fungi. The growths rise as high as Earth’s trees, and are shaped like its stalagmites, green rounded pillars soft and moist to touch. The ground is green too, and Viv and Tom’s boots leave deep prints, like walking on wet sand.

 

The farther they go, the higher the growth. The sun is soon blotted out by a fungal canopy. They’re in the cool heart of an undisturbed forest.

 

Out come the steel needles, the vials, the long-wired gauges and gadgets, snatched out of the backpack and pierced into the malleable trunks of the largest fungi. Bianca is glad to stop walking. Those three hike so fast.

 

She watches them work. She tries to take note of procedures. She’d taken a course in astromycology just last semester, but passed only because she sucked up so much to that professor. She has no idea what Viv and Tom and the researcher are actually doing.

 

They’ve split apart, Viv descending even deeper, hopping over the protruding dark green mycelia. The researcher is prodding a trunk, her hands peeling away fuzzy, as if she touched mold. Bianca stays behind, near Tom. He’s pretty cute. Bespectacled, with a stubbled chin, because geniuses in space have no time to shave. His clothes are kind of crumpled. His young face is already lined; so much frowning from serious contemplation of serious things. He’s like the math tutor you have a crush on.

 

Bianca considers starting conversation. But he’s deep in a squat, elbows between knees, bending over a device with a glowing screen, writing down numbers in a notebook. She won’t disturb him. She contemplates the scenery instead. She’ll remember all this for her report, the sensory stuff. She’ll catch up on and fill in the science stuff later.

 

Gold-amber sunlight streams through in strips, highlighting the spores rising like flecks of dust. How similar this dim light is to that of the speakeasy. She breathes deep, wanting to remember the scent. Millions of the spores that will eventually kill her settle inside her with each inhale.

 

Now, reader, you surely dream of faraway places. Beaches with white sizzling sands crawling with crabs; sun-bleached ruins of older, wiser civilizations; outer space; all-included B&B; arctic cruise liners; the cool arms of a cool girl who really gets you for you. But it’s you that’s there. With all your gross human petty aches and desires, and your small stupid clouded mind stuffed with stereotypes and preconceived notions. Places don’t really change you. Isn’t that sad?

 

Bianca feels bad, but she’s bored. Tom’s still doing something. She sits down. She yawns. She hasn’t been sleeping well. She thinks about the bed in the cabin, a creaky and flimsy construction she can’t wait to return to. She thinks about her bed at home. Maybe when she returns, she’ll splurge on one of those mattresses they advertise all the time with the cooling foam and the sleep number. It’s premature to think about Timmy in that bed with her, right? Still, she lingers deliciously on that daydream.

 

It’s only when they return to the lab that she realizes: sitting down stained her butt green. Viv points it out, gently. They laugh.

 

Viv: “It’s ok! I sat down on my nephew’s chocolate Easter bunny once. It melted all over my jeans. When I got up, he called me poopy pants!”

 

They laugh more. As Viv removes filled vials and scrawled-over notebooks from the backpack, and Bianca pretends to help, they assume the easy rhythms of girl-conversation.

 

Tom comes, holding a test tube rack. Seriousness carves into his face. The girls stop laughing.

 

“Do you know how to prepare microscope slides?” he asks Bianca.

 

“Um.”

 

“I’ll show her,” Viv offers.

 

The lab is cold, bright, gleaming with glass and fluorescence. Viv flits like a bird between stations, grabbing vials and pipettes. She shows Bianca the slides, the steps. Bianca copies like a clever little monkey. This isn’t even hard. She’ll do all the slides, easy.

 

Viv trusts her pupil enough, and disappears to her bench. Tom clicks away at his own work. Bianca is concentrating. The slides soon hold small samples of fungus, green and translucent commas atop rectangles of glass.

 

She’s a real scientist, she thinks. This is what being a kid with chemistry set was like, pure focus, exploration, the excitement of near-discovery like a sneeze begging to be expelled.

 

“Hey, Tom,” Viv calls out. “You should tell Bianca about the time you ate that poisonous fungus.”

 

“Shuuuuuut the fuuuuuuuck uuuup,” he yells from his corner. He cracks his first white-teeth smile of the trip.

 

“Mr. Mycology Expert here,” Viv tells Bianca, meeting her eyes over microscopes, “Was sooo sure he knew what edible mushrooms looked like, and we’re on this research trip all over Europe, right, collecting spore prints, and we find one he says he can eat, but I think is poisonous, but he eats it anyway, and we spend the rest of that trip in the hospital while he hangs on to life by a thread.”

 

“That’s so scary,” says Bianca. To Tom: “Are you better now at figuring out which fungi are toxic?”

 

Tom rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah.”

 

The flow is now three-way. The trio is chatting, passing the ball of conversation quite easily. A window in the lab shows Venus outside, green and swirling, a promise offered and answered. Bianca is here with her gorgeous scientist friends. The world around her is weird and wild.  This is what she sought.

 

Bianca tells them about Timmy. She doesn’t realize how big her movements get. Arms sweeping, eyes wide with her story. A hand flying too fast: contact with the box of slides. They crash, off the lab bench, and spill. The slides splinter.

 

Bianca: “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

 

Bianca, all panicky, seeks the broom. Her anxious eyes pass by it six times before she spots it in the supply closet. Hot guilt bites her cheeks.

 

She returns, broom in hand. Tom and Viv are bent over the shards. They giggle. Bianca’s soul slides into her stomach, a high school feeling — they’re laughing at her. She comes closer, but they don’t stop, or look at her.

 

Reader, you’ve seen lovers. They pull on each other like the taffy machine, stretching a great big confectionery rope over and over and back together. Tom and Viv are doing that thing that neither you nor Bianca can manage: hunger so deep for another person that you ask to be fed by them again and again. Lovers always find something to say, tease about, like puppies biting each other to make the other chase. Here too, on the planet of love, they manage. On Venus as it is on Earth.

 

***

Two weeks are up. The team is going home, back on the rocket. Bianca is held inside it by x-crossing seatbelts. She’s sat by the porthole. A deep dark lonely cosmos stares at her. She stares back with glazed eyes. Her mind is elsewhere. She imagines talking to Timmy. She composes her monologue for him, not her friends, her parents, or her rocket-yearning grandfather.

 

Timmy, you know how they used to say Venus was unfit for life? I can’t believe how wrong people were, even just a few decades ago. I mean, I suppose we couldn’t have known for certain. No one had ever been here before. But Venus is more lush than any sliver  of jungle we’ve remaining on Earth, but with fungus, not trees. I quite like the fungus. I think you would, too. It loves music, just like you. If you lean in close enough to the roots — sorry, the mycelium — you hear this humming noise. It’s singing to itself, I think. I wish you’d been here with me. You would’ve loved it. 

 

How Bianca is so confident that a man she’s spoken to once would love the peculiar atmosphere of Venus, I’m really not sure.

 

Oh, right — reader, you’re probably worried about the poisonous spores. They’ve lodged in the crew’s lungs. The moisture of the tissue draws forth mycelia, which soon will sprout into thick fungus that chokes living organs.

 

Fortunately, “soon” is relative. For mushrooms that live millions of year, a human life span isn’t long. It’s 60 years before the fungus sprouts and is toxic. Viv and Tom and Bianca and the senior researcher die from it, but they would’ve been dead by then anyway.

 

Maybe you wonder, did  Timmy and Bianca get together? I don’t know. You tell me. It doesn’t really matter.

How to Make a Narcissist Miserable – 6 Things They Hate

Today, we’re stepping into a subject that’s as real as it gets: narcissists. These people thrive on control, manipulation, and putting themselves on pedestals. Now, we don’t play games to hurt anyone, but sometimes life demands you to stand firm and protect your peace. If you’re dealing with a narcissist, you’ve got to know how to reclaim your power without stooping to their level.

Let’s talk about six things narcissists hate not to attack, but to empower yourself and show them you’re not to be toyed with.

1. They Hate Being Ignored

Narcissists are masters of manipulation, experts at spinning words and situations to provoke a reaction from you. Their entire game is built around control, and they achieve it by pulling you into their web of drama, conflict, and mind games. They thrive when they can make you doubt yourself, question your worth, or react emotionally to their antics.

But when you choose to disengage to simply not react you throw their entire playbook into chaos. Ignoring a narcissist doesn’t mean you’re weak or indifferent; it means you’re reclaiming your power. They hate being ignored because your attention is their fuel. Whether they’re showering you with false praise or trying to bait you with criticism, their goal is always the same: to keep you emotionally hooked.

When you don’t respond, it’s like cutting off the supply they desperately need. Their tactics whether it’s gaslighting, guilt-tripping, or passive aggression begin to lose their effectiveness the moment you stop feeding into them. Your silence becomes their frustration; your composure, their defeat.

2. They Despise Boundaries

Narcissists loathe boundaries because boundaries represent something they cannot control: your autonomy and self-respect. They thrive on encroaching into your personal space, your emotional territory, and even your sense of self. When you draw a line and stand firm, it sends a message they can’t ignore: This is my space, my rules, and you cannot cross them.

Establishing and enforcing boundaries is one of the most powerful moves you can make, and it’s something narcissists despise. Setting boundaries is not just about saying no to their demands; it’s about making a clear declaration of your values, needs, and limits. It’s about refusing to engage in the toxic dance they try to lead.

3. They Can’t Stand a Lack of Validation

A narcissist’s entire existence revolves around their need for validation. Their sense of self-worth is fragile, and they rely on external praise, admiration, and constant affirmation to prop up their inflated self-image. It’s not enough for them to feel good about themselves; they need others to do the heavy lifting by constantly feeding their ego.

This is where you have an incredibly powerful tool: refusing to validate their ego. When you stop providing them with the constant admiration they crave, you break down the foundation of their self-constructed reality.

4. They Are Threatened by Confidence

Confidence is the armor that protects you from the narcissist’s attempts to diminish your self-worth. It’s not about being loud or overtly assertive; true confidence is rooted in a deep, unwavering belief in your values and abilities. When you possess genuine confidence in yourself, it’s like a shield that the narcissist’s manipulative tactics cannot penetrate.

For a narcissist, confidence is a direct threat. They feed off the insecurity of others, using it to control, manipulate, and belittle. But when you walk into a room with your head held high, unapologetically owning your space, they are faced with a force they cannot manipulate.

5. They Can’t Handle Seeing You Thrive Without Them

One of the most powerful ways to make a narcissist miserable is to show them that you can thrive without them. Narcissists thrive on the belief that they are irreplaceable and that they are the source of your happiness, success, or emotional stability. They love the idea of being the center of your world, controlling your thoughts, actions, and emotions.

But when you start to live your life independently, flourishing without their presence, you challenge their very perception of themselves as essential. Thriving without a narcissist is not just about surviving in their absence; it’s about living in such a way that their absence is barely noticed or even better, it becomes a footnote in your life.

6. They Are Disarmed by Your Calmness

One of the most powerful ways to break free from the hold of a narcissist is by staying calm in the storm. Narcissists thrive on chaos, drama, and emotional upheaval. They rely on triggering your emotions to create confusion, manipulate your reactions, and keep you in a constant state of instability.

But when you learn to stay calm in the storm when you refuse to be rattled by their antics you disarm their ability to control you. Staying calm in the storm isn’t about suppressing your emotions or pretending that things are fine when they’re not. It’s about maintaining control over how you respond to the narcissist’s behavior.

Reclaiming Your Power

At the end of the day, dealing with a narcissist is about taking back control. It’s about recognizing their tactics and not allowing them to manipulate, control, or define you. When you ignore their tactics, establish boundaries, refuse to validate their ego, and remain confident in your self-worth, you are dismantling the power they once held over you.

As you begin to thrive without them showing that your happiness and success don’t depend on their approval you make them realize that they are not the center of your world. When you remain calm in the storm, you create an impenetrable shield around your peace, refusing to be provoked or pulled into their chaos.

Ultimately, it’s not about fighting back or seeking revenge; it’s about rising above, holding your ground, and becoming the best version of yourself. By doing so, you rob the narcissist of their primary source of power: your emotional vulnerability. You become a force that cannot be easily shaken and that, my friends, is how you make a narcissist miserable.

Run For Your LIVES: Russia Activated The World’s Most Powerful and Destructive System ‘PERIMETER’

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The Breaking Point: How Women Are Shattering Men’s Psyche

Needs to be said.

Proof Positive

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

John K Adams

Howard Marks drove onto the Sequentrix Industries’ lot. He’d successfully passed the security gate. The sun had dipped behind the mountain. It felt like he’d driven forever up endless winding roads. ‘Thank God for GPS.’The unassuming low-rise building built into the hillside was a former Buddhist monastery.He’d been called there but not informed of his purpose. He had lots of questions.Not sci-fi, Sequentrix was the most secure research lab in the world. Most didn’t know it existed. Fewer knew its purpose. Hardly anyone knew its location. Yet its government funding exceeded many better known labs. Sequentrix Industries’ administrators had deep connections to Washington D.C. purse strings and power brokers.Located outside of Denver, no one knew how far their network of tunnels penetrated the mountain. A huge dish antenna gathered transmissions from orbiting satellites and beyond.Knowledgeable people presumed Sequentrix Industries researched bioweapons, or worse. Of course, they had their fingers in that. Its research spanned the range of scientific inquiry from quantum physics and into the cosmos. They had money to do anything they wished.Being a world-class journalist, and feared by the powerful, Howard’s summons there surprised him. Research labs avoid publicity, especially Howard Marks’ brand. He knew how to dig for the truth and how to publicize it. This unsolicited invitation piqued his curiosity.Howard traveled wherever the story led. He uncovered frauds and investigated the veracity of ‘conspiracy theories.’ Known internationally, he exposed conmen, politicians, crooks and cult leaders. No one preying on the public felt safe under his scrutiny. His outstanding work had received many awards.Despite death threats he traveled alone. Body guards are cumbersome and draw attention. ‘Moving targets must move quickly.’ Always on the move, he called his suitcase home.Howard’s encyclopedic knowledge enabled him to shine a light where others didn’t dare. He shredded the veil spun by PR hacks and propagandists. His broad fan base sought his incisive and witty essays in print and on social media. He’d recently appeared for interviews on cable news.“My fans are my family,” said Howard in interviews. He kept his personal life private. His family and past had been erased. Rumors of a girlfriend always proved to be empty speculation.No one knew Howard’s spiritual views. Or that he had any. A famous skeptic, his unsentimental skewering of the powerful made most presume an atheistic bent. Someone seeing him in a church pew wouldn’t consider it evidence of faith. Rather, they’d anticipate his debunking some preacher’s wild-eyed prophesies. A clear-eyed champion of the truth, few considered Howard a seeker of divine guidance.His appointment being scheduled for the evening, Howard knew it wasn’t management’s call. The exterior lights came on as he walked across the nearly empty lot.‘What’s this about? Someone gone rogue?’On entering the lobby, Howard encountered a series of security checks. He got frisked, endured wands, and stood for a full body scan… the usual that any airline traveler puts up with, times twelve. He knew cameras watched every movement. How many spooks stared at how many monitors?He stifled a laugh thinking of those running this gauntlet on a daily basis. ‘Are the toilets monitored?’ He knew the restrooms were. ‘But the toilets?Passing an inspection’ takes on new meaning.’Security personnel were not authorized to answer questions or make conversation. Cordial but impersonal, they efficiently moved each visitor to the next station. A smile or a human response could suggest compromised personnel. The cameras watched them too.He made a mental note. ‘Do story on security training standards and the people hired into this growing industry.’While passing through the final checkpoint, a man in a suit approached.“Hi. I’m Malcolm. I’ll guide your tour this evening.”They shook hands.Howard said, “I have an appointment – with Matthias?”“Yes. We’ll get to him.”Malcolm led Howard down a brightly lit, corridor and pointed at closed doors. He offered vague, but enthusiastic descriptions of what took place behind each.Howard knew such delaying tactics well. He wanted Matthias or someone to explain his purpose there. But he kept his frustration in check. He’d found many great stories at the ends of similar rabbit holes.He had no idea what to expect. Theoretical, or Astrophysics wasn’t a typically scandal ridden. ‘Too many fingers in the cookie jar? Happens all the time.’Malcolm pushed the down button by the elevator door. He and Howard stepped in. Malcolm pushed the B-7 button and stepped out. The doors shut and the elevator descended.Howard hoped this was a good thing.When the door opened, a man in shirt sleeves entered the corridor. Howard saw a bank of super computers in the room behind him.The man said, “I’m Matthias. Follow me.”Howard stopped. “Wait. You’re not Matthias. You’re… Not you again. I told you we can’t work together. No more stories blowing up with my name on them.”He turned to the elevator.“Howard, wait. This will interest you.”“Not if you’re involved.”“It could change the world.”Howard paused and nodded. He didn’t need to like those he worked with. As a rule, he expected to dislike them. His first priority was getting the story.

Matthias led Howard into the computer room.

Howard watched him. ‘Sometimes even bad pennies pay off. Follow the money.’

Matthias pointed and said, “This is the A-Omega-7 Triple Helix computer. It’s dedicated solely to my experiments. Take a look at our most recent results.”

He handed Howard several folders and pointed to a chair at a table. Opening each in turn, the abstracts were eye opening. Two papers analyzed deep space data reaching back to the Big Bang. The other paper’s topics were impenetrable.

Big Bang, entanglement, weak force, quark – Howard knew the words. But what they meant in context bewildered him – a fact he kept to himself.

“You want me to translate this into English?”

“As only you can.”

“I’m not a physicist. Find someone else.”

“You’re the best. And I owe you.”

Howard nodded and thought, ‘You do owe me. But that was long ago. And we were both victims of circumstance.’

Howard admitted to himself the research was over his head. Hoping for clarity, he scanned down to the abstracts’ conclusions.

After each, he looked up in wonderment. Matthias nodded and smiled.

Matthias said, “Each of these would have stunned Einstein. His work implied this but even he didn’t dream…”

“I’m not sure… You have fingerprints…?”

“Not only. If this were a paternity test, we have His DNA, so to speak, His signature on the birth cert and His address.”

Howard couldn’t hide his confusion.

“The upshot… we have proof.” Matthias raised his arms in triumph.

Howard spread the folders across the table. “But of what? What does this…?”

“God!”

“God?”

“Yes! The Creator. The Almighty. Maker of all things… proof He exists!”

Howard scanned the room in awe. He said, “But wait. You need proof? Isn’t it self-evident? Look around…”

Matthias didn’t listen. “Don’t you get it? When other sites replicate our findings, it will be irrefutable.”

“Yeah, but… well… Welcome to the party.”

“So, the reason I called you in – I need to leak this.”

Howard shook his head. “You can’t leak…”

“It’ll get more attention if people think the government is suppressing vital…”

“I cannot write about it, Matthias.”

“Why not? This is completely under wraps. I’m handing you the scoop of the millennium.”

“We’d lose credibility. It’s not news.”

“Even when the results get objectively confirmed?”

“Maybe especially then. You understand the implications?”

“Of course. You must release this. It will change the world.”

“It might end it.”

Now Matthias looked confused.

Howard sighed, “Look, let’s say you’re right about this earth-shattering news. Everyone will claim your work as their sacred scripture. Wars for possession will rage. They’d claim it points to their god.”

Matthias shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one owns this. It’s a matter of who belongs to God, not the other way around.”

“Sure. Right in principle. But we’re talking about humans here. People always create God in their own image. Reduce the sublime to the ridiculous. These documents would become idols to fight over.”

Matthias saw his point. He stepped back, sobbed and wiped his eyes.

Howard continued. “Once published, critics will claim a misplaced comma disproved your evidence. Thrown out because a zero should have been a one.”

“A typo is easily fixed. The results stand. Once vetted and replicated, people will unite around truth.”

“Believers will say ‘you cannot test God,’ or subject Him to proofs. Confining Him in a computer – an abomination… a fool’s game.”

Matthias opened the electrical panel. “My life’s work… Should I destroy it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Relax Matthias. Look. Some people see a magician pull a trick and won’t believe it’s sleight of hand. Others witness some historical event – like the moon landing – and can’t accept it really happened.”

“I called you in. You seek the truth.”

“Thank you for that. But the truth is out there. Everywhere. For everyone. Written in the stars.” He held up a folder. “These bits and bytes will neither convince a doubter nor confirm the believer. We’re throwing noodles, hoping something sticks.”

Matthias paced in frustration. “You think this is meaningless?”

“Of course not. But God doesn’t need our assistance. He needs the faithful. And their faith weighs more than proof.”

Matthias paused. He flipped through the reports.

“What if these discoveries bolstered people’s faith? This might knock some off the right side of the fence.”

Howard considered the question. Vague, unfocused spirituality was ascendant and deep belief had become an afterthought. ‘Thousands of denominations and no one goes to church.’

“You have a point, Matthias. Everyone’s hot to ‘follow the science’ these days. What if science points to, bows to God?”

“That would open some eyes. Hoped you’d see it my way.”

They nodded. Understanding settled in. Howard cleared the table. Matthias brought a legal pad and some pens.

“Coffee?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ll make fresh.”

~

Not yet visible, the sun had brightened the sky by the time Howard left the facility and walked to his rental car.

They had a plan. Howard carried a thumb drive containing the essential reports and abstracts of Matthias’ profound discovery. Matthias trusted Howard to leak it at a time of his choosing. He needn’t wait for the results of other site’s vetting of the data.

Howard smiled. The truth has a way of coming to light.

This is gonna sound racist but I don’t give a fuck because I’ve lived all over the United States so I consider myself well traveled and well cultured.

When it comes to the races of your neighbors first it’s Asians, then white people, then black people, then Mexicans.

The reason I say Asians is because they are always quiet and extremely respectful.

The best neighbors are always the ones you don’t know are there. Then it’s white people sometimes it’s hit or miss because they don’t seem to be good.

I’ve had many white neighbors I have wanted to shoot in the back of the head with a silencer for a variety of reasons, for one they tend to fall into three categories.

First one is that they have this extreme problem with wanting to call the police at any minor inconvenience always think they are the boss, also tend to be racist, second is the trailer park boy types.

The ones who smoke meth and talk about how much they hate people of color, and most of the time they end up being people you don’t really have to ever interact with which is always a blessing.

The black people are almost always consistently the loudest.

They talk the loudest, they fight a lot, they drink a lot, they will rob your ass in a heart beat if they find out what you have inside your house.

have had many black neighbors and even lived with them they are nice people from a distance but you get up close eventually you’re gonna experience a lot of misery.

The reason that Mexicans are last is because they have zero respect for how much noise they make in a public place.

They will be out on their front yard blasting music all night long and drinking alcohol. They do not care at all if you need to go to work in the morning.

Their culture is to be very loud and very annoying. They have large families and they get together every fucking weekend and make all that goddamn noise. This isn’t racism. This is an observable fact.

Because of the culture of sacrifice.

It’s the greatest honor to sacrifice one’s life for the country in Chinese culture.

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This is the statue of “sword forger” at the gate of Northwestern Industrial University, one of China’s top institutes for industrial and military tech, where the US has reportedly repeatedly try to hack and steal information from.

Nameless, faceless, my knowledge and life for the motherland.

Compare this to what they teach American students: expression of feelings, money and fame…

And this is just tip of the iceberg. Chinese education on the glory for one to sacrifice for the family and nation is everywhere and since childhood.

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Cementary of child soldiers in Yunan. 7000 child soldiers volunteered to defend China’s Southern border with British Burma from Japanese invasion during WWII. About 6000 of these kids were killed in combat. Their story is told across China and every year living kids honor them by stuffing the jars on their statues with candies.

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Deng Jiaxian

Chinese theoretical and nuclear physicist. In 1958 Deng was called upon to carry out classified work, so he disappeared from his family, only to reappear in 1986 in front of his wife and children, finally discharged due to imminent death, bleeding from radiation poisoning.

Thousands of Chinese scientists have chosen this path.

Thousands more are carrying on their spirit today.

You’re suddendly realising this now because of what appears to be China’s technological lead in a field where the US takes great pride in. But this kind of rapid catch-up through sacrifice has been silently going on for decades. And it is far more efficient than for profit weapon developers.

That’s me. I know this fear of going broke is ridiculous. Under current circumstances I can never go broke. Even if we got steady 10% inflation for 30 straight years I couldn’t go broke. I still have this nagging fear though.

All my accounts are still increasing year after year. I still have this fear.

Here’s what I think is really going on.

When your working it is really a strict contractural agreement. You give them time and skills and they give you money.

In retirement checks just keep showing up. My pension, Social Security. Other investment income.

Banks fail. Who knows what the government is going to do. Pension programs fail.

What’s causing my fear is that for my entire life I depended on my effort and skills to survive. Now I have to depend on the solvency, good will, and sanity of others to keep my income. I’m too old to do any income producing work.

So I’m overly frugal. Redundancy on top of redundancy trying to maintain a ‘safe’ income and continue to build up funds.

It drives the people around me crazy.

How Narcissists Really Feel When You Don’t Talk To Them?

Some people need to be talked to all the time. Have you ever stopped talking to someone and then wondered what they were thinking? If you’ve ever been around a narcissist, you may have felt the creepy silence that comes after you try to get away. At first, it might feel like a win a peaceful moment where you’ve taken back your place.

What does the narcissist do when you don’t talk to them? What do they do when no one is looking? You might not believe how complicated and scary the truth is. We’ll talk in-depth about the actions, strategies, and feelings that narcissists have when they hear your silence.

Finding out what happens when you stop talking to a narcissist can be very helpful for anyone who is dealing with them because it can show how desperately they want to get back in charge and how much inner turmoil they often try to hide. If you’ve ever thought about what a narcissist thinks and feels when you don’t talk to them, keep reading to find out.

Trust me, this is something that everyone needs to know, especially if you’re working with someone whose behavior is unpredictable, dishonest, or just plain bad.

Don’t miss the next thing. Let’s start with one of the most important questions: What does a narcissist do when you stop talking to them?

You might think they’ll just move on, get another person to control, or go on with their lives, but things are much more complicated than that. Narcissists are very anxious people, and their actions often show how badly they want to be approved of by others. Cutting them off or not giving them the attention they want makes them feel like they’ve lost something much more important than most people understand.

A narcissist, on the other hand, needs other people to tell them they are important and that they exist. So, when you stop talking to them, they lose more than just a chat they lose the validation that makes them feel better about themselves.

The Narcissist’s Initial Reaction: Panic

The first thing a narcissist is likely to feel when you stop talking to them is a sudden wave of worry. This is because narcissists often think that silence means they are being rejected or left alone. They can’t stand it when people ignore them or leave them out because it makes them question how important they think they are.

What’s really making them upset is their need to be the center of attention and always be praised or feared. Pulling away breaks the false sense of control they’ve worked so hard to keep up.

You may notice that narcissists reply in one of two ways: they either become obsessed with getting your attention again, or they attack you in a full-on way to get you to react. Both of these reactions stem from their weak egos. A narcissist gets all of their self-worth from approval from other people. As soon as you stop interacting with them, they feel less important than they thought, and they often feel like they’re losing control over you.

Manipulative Tactics: Regaining Control

The first thing a narcissist does is panic. Narcissists find your quiet not only annoying but also scary. When you stop talking to them, they’ll probably try to figure out why right away. They will spend a lot of time thinking about what happened and often blame themselves while also blaming you.

They may think: How could they leave me? Do not ignore me—I am very important. This creates a paradox. They want you to come back so badly, but they are also cocky and feel entitled, which makes it hard for them to admit they were wrong or show weakness.

Narcissists often don’t have the emotional growth to show vulnerability, so they won’t be honest about how they feel. Instead, many of them will hide their anxiety by using manipulative behavior. They might say you’re exaggerating or try to trick you by saying you don’t understand what’s going on.

Sometimes they might even act like they don’t care about you, hoping that you will come back to them out of curiosity or from the need to win their love again. Narcissists try to get power back by manipulating and controlling others.

Guilt-Tripping and Emotional Manipulation

People who are narcissists are known for being cunning, and when you stop talking to them, they will often do more to get back in charge. They know that to get your attention, they need to make you feel something.

Some ways they might do this are by making you feel guilty for their pain or by taking advantage of past favors or weaknesses against you. They might say things like, “After everything I’ve done for you, I can’t believe you would do this to me.” This is meant to make you feel like you owe them something.

Narcissists, on the other hand, don’t care about your well-being. In reality, they are just trying to fix their image and power.

Turning Others Against You

They may also try to make your life difficult by saying bad things about you, turning family or friends against you, or even making trouble in your social groups. It’s meant to keep you on edge, mentally worn out, and thinking about them all the time. For this reason, they stay in charge even when they’re not there.

The worst thing for a narcissist is losing their source of approval. People who are narcissists often worry about not being important, useful, or seen. When they don’t get constant praise and support from other people, they feel like they stop existing in the way they’ve always known themselves.

The Narcissist’s Cycle of Behavior

When they see that they can’t get your attention right away, they may pull back, thinking they need to make you miss them. During this time, they will often try to control you from the sidelines, such as through social media posts, indirect messages, or even connections they already have with you.

There are times when the narcissist may act even worse if they realize they have permanently lost control. This could mean smear campaigns against you, hurting your image, or turning others against you. It’s all about proving they are in charge again.

In Conclusion

What do narcissists do when you don’t talk to them? They panic, try to trick you, and then attempt to regain control of your life. They can’t handle being ignored or turned down because it forces them to face insecurity.

But if you know about these tricks, you can better defend yourself against their mental manipulation. Remember that your quiet is your power. When you’re with a narcissist, you don’t have to join their chaos or fall for their tricks. By setting boundaries, you take back control of your life and in the end, the narcissist will lose.

I worked as a repo man in North Carolina for a couple of years decades ago. I don’t know if the laws have changed but we could not enter a locked garage or jump a fence with a locked gate. As for finding the vehicle in pieces, it never happened to me but if it had, I would have just reported it to the creditor and I imagine the assignment would end on that particular vehicle.

One overriding principle was that repossessions have to remain “peaceable”. If a debtor caught us at it and started raising hell, we had to stop. That would buy the debtor time to either make arrangements with the creditor or to either secure the vehicle behind a locked door/gate or park it in some unknown location. It didn’t mean we would stop looking for it unless the creditor called us off.

The sneakiest thing I can remember is when I was looking for a Cadillac up in the mountains. I located a Cadillac at the debtor’s address, but the VIN was wrong on the car. Bummer. Couldn’t take it. Had to drive all the way back to Charlotte empty handed.

Some research revealed that the debtor’s brother lived in the same town as the debtor, and wouldn’t you know: he drove a Cadillac too! When I drove to the brother’s house, I was able to snatch the Cadillac with the correct VIN right out of his garage, because he left the garage door open. Naturally, this happened around 0300 when everyone’s asleep. That’s how we kept the repo peaceable.

Anyway, that’s how we did it in North Carolina back in the 1980s. Other states have different laws.

Savory Roasted Chicken

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Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 to 4 pound) broiler-fryer chicken
  • 1 medium potato, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
  • 1 medium onion, sliced into 8 wedges
  • 2 medium carrots, sliced 1/2 inch thick
  • 1 garlic clove
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
  • Salt and ground black pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Rinse chicken; pat dry with paper towels. Place chicken, breast-side up, in 13 x 9 inch baking dish or roasting pan. Arrange potato, onion and carrots around chicken.
  3. In small bowl, combine garlic, oil, thyme, rosemary, salt and pepper; brush over chicken. Pour water over vegetables.
  4. Bake, uncovered, 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes or until meat thermometer inserted into thickest part of thigh, not touching bone, registers 180 degrees F.
  5. Remove from oven; let stand, covered, 10-15 minutes before carving.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

It’s no secret that the USAF is the #1 Air Force in the world, consistently staying several steps ahead in military tech research. However, China is catching up—and at an astonishing pace. What’s even more remarkable is their willingness to pour seemingly unlimited funding into military technology development. The result?

Reports suggest that China has successfully tested a sixth-generation stealth fighter jet, with videos of the aircraft going viral on social media. If these videos are genuine, we’re looking at a state-of-the-art warplane that demonstrates impressive indigenous innovation. This is significant because it remains a mystery to the West—a clever move that serves as both a morale boost for China and a stark wake-up call for US-led NATO alliances.

This progress would have been unthinkable in the 1980s or 1990s, and even in the early 2000s, China lagged far behind NATO, let alone the USA. But now, the balance of power has begun to shift. Dare I say, China is producing military advancements that NATO can only dream of, leaving Pentagon think tanks worried about the implications of this rapid evolution.

What truly sets this new fighter jet apart is its futuristic “wingless” design—a revolutionary leap in aerodynamics and stealth technology. Watching it in motion is almost surreal, as if plucked straight from a sci-fi film. Its sleek, streamlined structure and cutting-edge manoeuvrability not only make it visually stunning but also highlight a level of engineering that challenges traditional concepts of military aviation. This isn’t just a step forward; it’s a glimpse into the future of air combat. Step aside Uncle Sam, The Chinese Dragon has arrived 😎🐉

That it’s just such an appalling place to live. No, really – having lived in different countries I can honestly say that the USA is an appalling place to live.

  • Everything is monetised
  • Police are ready to shoot you to death at the drop of a hat
  • TV is unwatchable due to the ridiculous proliferation of advertisements
  • Food is low quality and flavourless (you get to choose between salty or sweet. That’s it)
  • Public transport is a joke
  • Everything is a method of ripping you off
  • Politics is hyper polarised
  • The police are simply bullies with no oversight who do whatever they want including commit crimes and murder
  • Infrastructure is a crumbling mess and poses a real danger to the public
  • Every town looks the same – a collection of the same fast food joints, stores and strip malls
  • Toxic waste is kept in above-ground open-air pools. And when it rains a lot those pools overflow and the toxic waste goes with it. Seriously. Check it out for yourself
  • You aren’t seen as a person but as a consumer, with a wallet that needs to be emptied
  • The tipping culture is offensively entitled – you are literally expected to just give away your money to a stranger for doing the job they’re already paid to do. And if you receive shitty service and decide not to tip, or if you can afford to eat out but not afford to give away your money to a stranger for no reason, *YOU’RE* seen as the bad guy. Entitled narcissistic selfishness like you’ve never seen before
  • Not just the vehicles and the houses/buildings, but everything is low quality. It’s like a disposable culture
  • The fetishisation of the military and the police force – if somebody chooses to kill strangers for a living it’s bad, but if they’re wearing a uniform while they do it you’re expected to simper and gush and worship them and say “thank you for your service” like a drone
  • The amount of their GDP they waste on their military while essential public services like schools and hospitals and fire departments and infrastructure go neglected. This is something banana republics and tinpot dictators do
  • The utter lack of concern for their out of control gun problem. Every year 3500+ children are killed with guns and the predominant attitude is “yeah well that’s just a fact of life” when literally no developed nation has this problem, ONLY the USA
  • The general complete ignorance about the rest of the planet
  • The utter lack of curiosity to learn about the rest of the planet
  • The diminishing of the middle class, and the reluctance to acknowledge it

Awakened by canoe

That it’s too soft?

When the US had Canada kidnap the Huawei founder’s daughter and go around the world threatening countries to stop using Huawei, the CCP didn’t do shit but negotiate. Most Chinese would have liked to see the government act in kind, jailing Tim Cook’s family and seizing Apple’s productions and assets in China, nationalizing it and converting it into a Chinese brand, and sanction every country that followed the US in banning Huawei. Or for the bare minimum, couldn’t we have at least banned Apple like the US banned Huawei?

When Nancy Pelosi violated Chinese sovereignty by visiting Taiwan without Beijing’s approval, the CCP chose to do military drills around Taiwan after Pelosi had left. But most Chinese wanted to see her plane shot down for violating Chinese airspace. You have no idea the atmosphere of expectation for war on the ground in China that night. People were literally gathered with friends and family, anxious like before a sporting event. And man the absolute disappointment and humiliation the next day, when peace triumphed war.

When stupid Hong Kong “pro-democracy” protesters paid by the CIA took to the streets to free a convicted murderer of his girlfriend in 2019, Chinese across the country were shocked. When they started stabbing policemen and threatening the children of law enforcement, most Chinese just wanted to see the protestors and the CIA organizers (American diplomats) dead, or at least jailed. Yet the CCP chose to let the protest rage on and let the fed-up Hong Kongers deal with their own problem.

The CCP is rational and peaceful, too much so in the eyes of sentimental beings. The normal people don’t care about political compromise, we just want fairness, we want to hit back when someone hits us. And the CCP denies us that. That’s the main factor attributing to the negative sentiment toward the CCP at home.

I met a man in Marina Del Rey where I lived. He said he was an airline pilot from France and he lived in the MDR towers. He asked me to dinner, I said yes, and I met him later that week at his apartment in the towers. The towers are sort of a club they have dining and all sorts of activities, so we were going to eat in the restaurant downstairs. While I was sitting on his sofa waiting for him, he offered me a drink. I don’t drink so I declined. I remember seeing a picture of him and his twin brother on his table. He told me they were both airline pilots. Then he offered me a soda but I don’t drink soda pop so I declined that as well. Both times he had already prepared the drinks and he seemed frustrated by my turning down the drinks. So he returned to his kitchen. While he was in the other room I got the worst feeling. Just a dreadfully fearful feeling. I picked up my purse, slipped out the door, took the elevator down and ran to my car. Several weeks later he and his twin brother were in the newspaper, they had been arrested for drugging and raping women. Neither were French nor were they pilots.

Pepperoni Pizza Pinwheels

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5bd38a0c77b22c40352f675e4d47920f

Yield: 12 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (16 ounce) pouch Pantry Pizza Crust & Roll Mix (including yeast packet)
  • 1 1/4 cups very warm water (120 to 130 degrees F)
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 2 garlic cloves, pressed
  • 4 ounces mozzarella cheese, grated, divided (1 cup)
  • 3 plum tomatoes, sliced
  • 1 teaspoon Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix
  • 1 (3.5 ounce) package thinly sliced pepperoni
  • 1 ounce fresh Parmesan cheese, grated
  • 1 (8 ounce) can pizza sauce, warmed (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Brush cups of Stoneware Muffin Pan with vegetable oil using Pastry Brush.
  3. In Classic Batter Bowl, combine mix, yeast, water and oil. Mix dough according to package directions for pizza crust.
  4. Generously flour flat side of Large Grooved Cutting Board using Flour/Sugar Shaker. Using lightly floured Baker’s Roller, roll dough into a rectangle even with edges of Cutting Board. Press garlic using Garlic Press; spread evenly over dough using Skinny Scraper.
  5. Grate half of the mozzarella cheese over dough using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
  6. Slice tomatoes using Ultimate Slice & Grate fitted with v-shaped blade; arrange in a single layer over cheese and sprinkle with Seasoning Mi.
  7. Arrange pepperoni slices evenly over tomatoes.
  8. Grate remaining mozzarella cheese over pepperoni and tomato slices. Starting at longest edge, roll dough up tightly; pinch seam to seal.
  9. Using Serrated Bread Knife, slice roll into 12 (1 1/2 inch thick) slices. Place slices, swirl side up, into cups of Muffin Pan. Grate Parmesan cheese; sprinkle evenly over rolls.
  10. Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until deep golden brown.
  11. Remove to Nonstick Cooling Rack; cool 5 minutes before removing from pan.
  12. Serve with warmed pizza sauce for dipping, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving (1 pinwheel): Calories 240, Total Fat 9g, Saturated Fat 3g, Cholesterol 15mg, Carbohydrate 28g, Protein 9g, Sodium 640mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Haystack Caper

Ah, you’ve returned for yet another tale of my unparalleled brilliance! Of course you have. How could you resist? Once again, I, Sir Whiskerton, the most cunning and sophisticated creature to ever grace this farm, have a story to share. This time, my razor-sharp intellect was put to the test in one of the most perplexing and ridiculous mysteries I have ever encountered: the Case of the Vanishing Haystack. Prepare yourselves for an adventure filled with absurdity, betrayal, and, of course, my undeniable heroics.

The Haystack Disappears

It all started on a breezy afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was perched on the barn roof, grooming my immaculate fur. Life was good. That is, until I heard the panicked braying of Gerald, the donkey.

“It’s gone! It’s gone!” Gerald cried, galloping around the farmyard like a lunatic.

I sighed deeply. Gerald is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s harmless enough. However, his screeching was disrupting my peace, so naturally, I had to intervene.

“What’s gone, Gerald?” I called down, my voice dripping with boredom.

“The haystack!” he brayed, his eyes wide with terror. “The big haystack by the barn—it’s missing!”

“Missing, you say?” I leapt down from the roof and landed gracefully in front of him. “Haystacks don’t just walk away, Gerald. Are you sure you’re not just looking in the wrong place?”

“I’m sure!” he insisted. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone! I—I was going to have a snack, and—poof—it’s gone!”

This was intriguing. Haystacks, as a rule, are large, immobile, and entirely incapable of disappearing without a trace. I decided to investigate, partly because I was curious and partly because I needed an excuse to stretch my legs.

The Scene of the Crime

When I arrived at the barn, I found a large, circular patch of dirt where the haystack had once stood. Bits of hay were scattered here and there, but the bulk of it was nowhere to be seen. A crowd of animals had gathered, all of them murmuring and speculating wildly.

“It must have been aliens!” Harold the rooster declared, flapping his wings dramatically. “They’ve come to take our hay for their experiments!”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If aliens wanted hay, they could just grow their own. Use your brain, Harold—not that you have much of one.”

“I bet it was the wind,” Bessie the cow offered, chewing her cud thoughtfully. “A really, really strong wind.”

“Bessie, it would take a tornado to move that much hay,” I pointed out. “And unless I missed it, there hasn’t been a tornado today.”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to me. They were waiting for me to solve the mystery, as they always did. I let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Let the great Sir Whiskerton handle it.”

The Investigation

As any seasoned detective knows, the first step in solving a mystery is to gather evidence. I sniffed around the patch of dirt, my keen senses picking up traces of hay, mud, and… something else. Something unusual.

“Hoofprints,” I muttered, examining the ground closely. “And not just any hoofprints. These are fresh, and they’re heading toward the pasture.”

The animals gasped.

“Do you think the thief is still out there?” Henny Penny squawked, clutching her feathers dramatically.

“Possibly,” I said, my tail twitching with anticipation. “Stay here and don’t touch anything. I’ll follow the trail.”

The Suspects

The hoofprints led me to the pasture, where I found the first suspect: Clover the goat. Clover is a mischievous little creature with a penchant for chewing on things that don’t belong to her. If anyone was capable of stealing a haystack, it was her.

“Clover,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “care to explain why there’s hay stuck to your horns?”

She looked up from the fence post she was gnawing on, her big yellow eyes filled with innocence. “Oh, this? I bumped into the haystack earlier. Honest! I didn’t take it!”

“Hmm,” I said, studying her carefully. She didn’t look strong enough to move an entire haystack, but I couldn’t rule her out entirely.

Next, I decided to question the pigs. Porkchop and his gang were lounging near the mud pit, as usual. “Porkchop,” I said, “did you and your crew have anything to do with the missing haystack?”

He snorted. “What would we want with a haystack? We’ve got slop, and slop is way better than hay.”

This was true. Pigs have no interest in hay, and their mud pit was far too small to hide an entire haystack. I moved on.

The Breakthrough

As I continued to follow the trail, I noticed that the hoofprints were becoming more erratic, as if the thief had been struggling to carry their loot. Then, I spotted something in the distance: a large pile of hay hidden behind the old apple tree.

“Gotcha,” I said, my whiskers twitching with satisfaction. I crept closer, and to my surprise, I found the culprit fast asleep on top of the stolen haystack.

It was Gerald. Yes, Gerald—the very donkey who had reported the haystack missing in the first place.

“Gerald!” I shouted, waking him with a start. “Care to explain why you’re napping on the stolen haystack?”

He blinked at me, his ears drooping in embarrassment. “Oh… uh… I guess I forgot. I moved the haystack over here because… um… the sun was better for napping. Then I got tired, so I… well, I fell asleep.”

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You caused this entire scene because you wanted to nap in the sun?”

Gerald nodded sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just really like hay, and this spot looked cozy.”

The Resolution

I dragged Gerald back to the barn, where the other animals were waiting anxiously. When I told them what had happened, they erupted into laughter.

“Leave it to Gerald to forget he stole the haystack!” Harold cackled.

“I told you it wasn’t aliens!” Bessie said triumphantly.

As for me, I simply shook my head. “The moral of the story,” I announced, “is that sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one. And also, donkeys are ridiculous.”

With the haystack returned to its rightful place, peace was restored to the farm. As for Gerald, he promised to stick to napping in the pasture from now on. And me? I retired to my favorite sunny spot on the barn roof, ready for the next absurd mystery this farm would inevitably throw my way.

The End.

I used to respect Yellen thinking a person with a PhD has some morality. Boy, I was so wrong. She was as evil as Satan. She is so selfish. Only thinking about USA & not humanity in general. Since she is a Jewish American, perhaps like her bible, Jews are chosen people & all others are animals that can be slaughtered by the Jews.

The whole idea of the Ukraine war is to 1) gobble up Ukraine’s rich natural resources 2) weaken rival Europe’s economy & 3) lastly to break up Russia.

Of course, USA makes it look like Russia invasion. Russia’s fault.

USA, Yellen included, has the mentality of colonialism & ultra capitalism. How many people died in the Ukraine war? How many more deaths do Satan Yellen & USA want to make USA “great”?

I heard her speeches in universities. Soft spoken. But full of gossip-like speeches to create hatred & fear of China. I despise her. I hate Satan.

The Sopranos – Tony Soprano whacks Chucky Signore

Xi jinping’s phone: Special customized Military-grade encryption zte axon smartphone, top configuration.

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main qimg a4a5caaf97e8e02b208f55a948860b49 lq

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

To Bake Under the Sun

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Set your story in a world where time travel has been perfected, and people can use it to hop between alternate timelines — but at a cost. view prompt

Sam Jacobsen

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Earth is now a whisper–sad, desolate. For many miles, crags drone on in a ceaseless field of black. The rocks left behind are sharp and cracking, their shale falling down into pits of tar and sludge. At the peak of the highest crag is a glowing portal–our slip. It is a gate to another time; another place. We funnel through the slip like lemmings to the cliff, our eyes glazed and desperate. We being the last of us, that is. We come, warped and damaged by radiation, drought, famine, to escape. The seas and forests are gone, our beloved animals with them. The things which remain are warped and ugly: things which should never be trusted, and never be eaten. So, we march to the slip–to places bountiful and beautiful. Pilgrims, that is what we are, come to pray to our swirling god. Beyond and about the world burns, boils, breaks as it has for as long as we can remember. Overhead, toxicrows bark. Their call is a loathsome, lonesome thing–the song of our last birds. Earth, our mother, screams, spewing up green sludge with each cough. Only in the slips is there beauty anymore: a giant, rounded portal to a separate time, surrounded by copper machinery. Its many tubes, electrodes, and vents scream at us, begging for mercy. Big waste tubes run from it down into the crust of out world, pulsing like a sick vein.One of us steps forward–an irradiated man with burnt skin. He, smiling, steps through the slip and disappears. Not but a second later, a form falls from the sky in the distance and splats into a wide pit. Person by person the line decreases, its backmost reaches leading on for uncountable miles. As the unchanging light of our dying world filters on, I move.Soon, it is my moment. The slip towers above me–a welcoming swirl. With a nod, the slip-keeper–his fleshless face hidden behind a plague mask of junk–bids me enter. Stepping forward, I am swept up in the cold hug of the slip. Though I have never seen the sea, I know now how it feels to be adrift in it. It’s the soothing, amniotic rush through the fabric of many realities. Separate times flicker by like framed photographs behind dusty glass. There: a man learning to ride a bike. There: a lone fish in a wide, endless depth. They come in droves, these moments. The slip was perfected decades ago, and it leads me seamlessly to where I want to be.Colors rocket by, leading me to a time, a place, where all is clean and good. A time where my child is still alive; a place when flowers still grow. Here, things are foreign, yet familiar. At first, my head hurts–a symptom of slip-travel, or so I was told. But a headache is worth the time I have ahead. There are pools here…lakes…oceans. Forests too, and cities not held together by junk wire. I grow. I laugh. I love. I know it is not permanent, but the knowledge fades in time. What pain is there here but the prickle of pine needles underfoot? What sadness but the bitter-sweet, happy kind? I don’t go hungry here, nor fall to bits in the light of the sun. In my original time, rain was a stinging, stinking barrage. Here, it is beautiful. The mountains are clean; the skies are clear. I find I often wonder how I could have ever survived in such a place as the one I left. Yet, there is a ghost–lurking and terrible–in the shape of things. It is the shadow of what is. What will be. What I left. There’s something like guilt inside of me; I’ve sacrificed a life in my own time for a new one here. Is that so wrong? I did leave my friends…did leave my love. Surely, if they could see how beautiful this place is, they would not judge.A day comes when the slip-trip is done. The portal–once a friend, now angry and red–rips me from the separate place. I am shorn, tossed, discarded. Tired, I am deposited in the sludge pits of my ruined home. The slip had mangled me irreparably. My limbs are twitching goiters. My organs bloat and squeeze incorrectly; my flesh is a colorless bag of veins. My mouth slants up between my eyes, coils over my head, and back over my spine. My eyes–lidless now–are turned forever upwards to watch the blazing sky. Not even the toxicrows dare taste my flesh.In my world. but a second has gone by.I hear a friend scream at me from the line. “Look!” she says, “what fun you must have had.”She’s right.Watching the lines pour over the crags–the silhouettes marching into the slip–I grow to resent them. I had my time, but I want more. One by one the people return, cast down to wallow beside me, their DNA mutilated by the slip’s rays. We will never die now: the cost of a brief taste of utter serenity. Though we cannot shut our eyes, we sleep and dream all the same. Our lips gibber, teeth gnash, and we remember those separate times. Body by body, we grow in number until our pit is full. When there is no more room, the sun melts our bodies into one. Cobbled flesh, melded bones, our thoughts trail off and merge, our brain cells fusing together. My memories of flowers and my child become memories of slow, dark rain against a ship. Become the gentle breeze through palms on a quiet beach. Become the rhythmic thrum of heavy bass in a noisy club. Become hellos and goodbyes and tears and kisses and dancing and sex, each neural-fusing brining a new brilliant burst of light. Before long, the memories compile too many times over, and we become a mindless legion, our terrible form growing lost beneath falling shale and sludge. trapped in the dark, we can feel the weight of new slip-returnees plopped down. They enter, they live, they land here to bake under the sun.

I bet you don’t know the latest Xiaomi Ninebot Scooter that has gyroscopic balance and can’t fall down , which can automatically drive itself from the parking lot for a 100 meter distance to where you are

That can be started by mobile phone if your key is lost

That can have a battery shutdown if security more is installed (meaning OTP or QR code Authorization mode can be activated)

Range is 185 Kms & Max Speed is 166 KPH but Median Speed is 77 KPH

It sold the most E Bike units in 2024 December and is priced at 11,999 Yuan & 14,999 Yuan

Cheaper than an iPhone or Huawei Foldable Phone

Imported Tax Free into India, it’s cost would be ₹ 1.33 Lakh


This year China approved it’s own Immunotherapy regime for Cervical Cancer and their own approved drug , made in China

Treatment cost reduces from 88,000 Yuan for a course to 26,000 Yuan for a course

The Swiss US FDA Drug isn’t banned.

You can choose to pay 90,000 Yuan for the US Product or 26,000 Yuan for the Chinese Product

Unfortunately neither is covered under insurance 😔


Chinas Potential is immense and it’s showcasing them regularly

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ksnip 20250102 111131

Phytium and Loongson Processors once regarded as total junk are now performing on par with Intel Processors of 2 1/2 – 3 years ago

It’s a Nation on the move now !!!!

Scratched Wax

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Set your story in a world where time travel has been perfected, and people can use it to hop between alternate timelines — but at a cost. view prompt

Chris Miller

“I see that you cannot take your eyes from the gifts time has bestowed upon me.” The Dealer’s eyes glinted through a fringe that lay over his face like the unearthed roots of a mangrove swamp. The roots fed a great vine of matted hair that climbed over his head in a dense coil and looped down to twist like a constrictor several times around his body.

“Stare,” he said in a delicate breath barely strong enough to carry the word, “every second you spend staring at me becomes mine.” He raised a thin hand and used the edge of a long, twisted fingernail to score a line into the body of the candle that burned on the table between us. “You may share my time until the flame erases the line.” His hand dropped to the table under the weight of his decades-long nails, which twisted like fuses and scraped toward me through the silence as he flexed his gnarled fingers. “Now, tell me your needs and learn my price.”

“I need to travel,” I said, focusing on the two sparks of candlelight reflected in The Dealer’s eyes, trying to ignore the huge figure who stood by his side, just visible at the edge of the small reality of candle-lit space.

“To the lived, or the unlived?”

“Back, I want to go back. To the lived.”

“Ah, yes, to revisit the lived is more valuable. We are all moving into the unlived, travelling there is a mere matter of efficiency, but to revisit the lived, that offers possibilities beyond comprehension, and so, to be blunt, it must attract a higher cost. How far do you wish to travel?”

“It depends on the price.”

“As so much does, indeed, as so much does,” sang The Dealer with a slow shake of his head. “I charge one hour for one scint,” he said flatly.

“Scint? The government are offering a minute for an hour, what’s a scint?”

“Ah, the government. Those philistines have no understanding of the true value of time, and they place such… illiberal limits on travellers. They make life so difficult for independent businessmen like myself and my colleague Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer with a slight nod to the figure at his side, “but in the face of adversity, we innovate! One hour of your life will buy you one scint of travel, one hundredth of an hour.”

“I don’t know. It’s expensive.”

The large figure stooped and a pale face with black-bagged eyes sunk into the candle’s glow. The head rolled slightly as scarred lips twitched and bounced, miming speech and poisoning the globe of candle light with sour breath, but remaining as silent as the sea bed. After a few seconds, when the lips were still, the words came.

“If you could get a government licence you wouldn’t be here. One hour, one scint. The rate is not negotiable.”

I nodded, holding the unblinking glare of the desynchronised addict as his face rose away from the flame and back into the darkness. I pretended not to have noticed his lag.

“You must forgive Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer. “He is a man of very liberal principles and deeply resents the government’s interference in our trade. He is a frequent micro-traveller and his, shall we say, sumptuous proclivities, have also rendered him somewhat… impatient. Let us come to an arrangement which will allow you to experience the pleasure that he knows so well.”

“I don’t think I can afford your rate. If it’s not negotiable then…”

“Let us not be too hasty. As I say, Mr Cleave lacks my patience. I am a businessman. Life is a negotiation. Everything is negotiable!”

Mr Cleave turned, perhaps piqued by his partner’s flexibility, and disappeared quickly into the darkness, to be followed shortly after by the beat of his bodyless footsteps.

“Come closer,” said The Dealer, “let me see the quality of the time you have to offer.”

I bent forward slightly in my seat, pushing my chin closer to the candle flame, over The Dealer’s claws. He mirrored my movement and the yellow light leapt to his long, grey beard as it swept like rain over the table. He turned briefly to his left and grunted. Hands, too small to belong to Cleave, reached out and fitted a jeweller’s loupe to the bridge of his nose. He turned back to me, aiming the lens into my eyes.

“You have travelled forty-two years, one-hundred and fifteen days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes… ah, eighteen. Your heart is good, despite your drinking, tut tut! But who am I to judge? We shall leave that to our priggish government, shan’t we?” He tapped his hands lightly as he peered, causing the nails to rattle and scrape on the table under my chin. “Please turn your head to the left. Yes. And now the right, yeeees, unremarkable but acceptable. And finally, to complete my process, you must tell me your father’s name.”

“Winston Craig.”

“My thanks. I see that there were some problems in your youth, the nature of them is unclear to me, but nothing to suggest that you will not have a perfectly average journey length. This would mean you have something in the region of thirty years left with which to deal. Regretfully, this is insufficient to purchase an amount of travel which could tempt me to negotiate on my rates.”

“I need a month,” I said “well, thirty days.”

“Thirty days. Seventy-two thousand scints at a cost of seventy-two thousand hours. Three thousand days, over eight years. Which means that, in line with my long-standing business practices, partially adopted at the insistence of my erstwhile associate Mr Cleave, regrettably, I must charge you nine. We only accept complete years I am afraid. A fee of nine years will purchase you a journey of thirty-two days. Always prudent to buy slightly more than you need, wouldn’t you agree? I’m sure that a pragmatist such as yourself can see that this is a wonderful deal.”

“It’s just… so much.”

“The journey you need to undertake is very valuable, my friend, maybe worth more to you than a mere nine years of your life?”

“It is important. The thing I have to do, it would change a lot.”

“And to relive the already lived would be inaccessible to you by any other means, by any licenced means, wouldn’t it?”

“It is a big decision.”

“Ah, my friend, it is no decision at all.” The Dealer grinned and aimed the lens of the loupe at the flame as it burned closer to the scored deadline in the wax. “I do not know when next I will be available for a consultation. It could be some time. Every second you hesitate is one you must buy back at the point at which you see sense.”

“I just don’t know.”

“Mr Cleave! Mr Cleave where are you? We are leaving!” The Dealer twisted indignantly in his seat and made a show of preparing to leave despite being incapable of so much as standing without assistance. “There is no creature so reprehensible as a time waster!”

“Wait,” I said quietly.

“Mr Cleave! Where has he got to?” The Dealer looked to the other figure in the darkness and hissed, sending them scuttling off to search for Mr Cleave.

“What if I had more time to offer? Not just more, but higher quality too?”

“I have appraised your time; higher quality would mean it would have to come from another donor.”

“Yes.”

“A younger donor?” The Dealer stopped looking around for Cleave and pointed his loupe at me once again, a flicker of candle light briefly flashing a magnified image of a hungry, yellow eye in the thick lens.

“Yes.”

The Dealer raised a hand and with a careful scrape of a nail scored a new line, lower down on the candle’s neck.

“You have my attention; you may share my time a little longer. But be warned; if you are wasting more of my time, you will find you have considerably less to deal with than I previously estimated. Mr Cleave will gladly relieve you of it.”

“I’m not wasting your time,” said a boy’s voice in the darkness.

 “Who’s there?” said The Dealer, instinctively turning to his left for assistance and, finding none, stiffly jerking his neck to shake the loupe awkwardly away from his eye, unable to use his clawbound hands, helpless without Cleave or his other associate.

A boy of twelve stepped into the glow of the candle beside me. The Dealer rocked forward so far over the table that a few stray beard hairs curled and smoked in the candle’s orbit. The tip of his tongue flickered in his moustache.

“You would be prepared to offer the child’s time?” said The Dealer.

“Would you be prepared to appraise it?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry, child, I won’t take a moment. Turn your head to the left for me.”

The boy complied, blanky obedient.

“Yes, good boy. And to the right… Yes… Closer to the flame, my Little Moth. Very good. And finally; what is your father’s name?”

“Winston Craig.”

“Ah, a family name, how traditional. My thanks, Little Moth.” He turned back to me, “I have seen enough. If you can guarantee that we could conduct our business without any, obstructions, then for the boy’s time I could match even our foolish government’s rates.”

“There won’t be any obstructions,” I said, looking at the boy who solemnly shook his head.

“What about the mother?” asked The Dealer.

“Mother’s dead,” I said.

“Ah, tragic. Such a waste, to die young,” said The Dealer affecting a frown that did little to conceal his obvious joy at the new opportunity.

“She was much older than me,” I said.

“Ah, well, tragic none the less. But we must not dwell on the past! Why dwell on it when you could soon dwell in it?” said The Dealer with a few sawing breaths of weak laughter that left spittle in his beard.

“So, you would take the boy’s time?” I confirmed.

“Oh, yes,” said The Dealer, any hint of humour gone.

“How much would you take?”

“Oh, he has so much to give…”

“What if I wanted to travel thirty years?” I asked.

“Well, my friend, as the wisest among us know, life is a negotiation, and I would negotiate… for a whole life,” said The Dealer, the flame picking out his unblinking eyes as it erased the line that should have marked the end of our meeting.

The boy and I looked at each other.

“Is that enough?” the boy said to me.

“Oh, that is enough!” yelped The Dealer, “that would buy so very much, my brave Little Moth.”

“I think we’ve got enough,” I replied to the boy as I rose from my chair.

“Please sit, my friend, we must conclude our business,” said The Dealer, a weak laugh nervously punctuating his words.

“Yes, let’s conclude our business,” said the boy.

“Yes,” I said, “No need to spend any longer on this one.” I hardened my voice as I had so many times before and addressed The Dealer, “You are under arrest for violation of section eight-B, chapter nine of novel three of the Temporal Protocol. It is my duty to inform you that I am a Constable of the Queen’s Government and that you are in my charge until I deliver you to a designated custody facility. Any resistance will be met with force, proportionate and reasonable, but otherwise unlimited. Do you understand?”

“Cleave!” cried The Dealer.

“I think he understands,” said the boy.

“There are about a dozen more crimes that you will be answering for, I could list them all, but I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time,” I said.

“Mr Cleave!” shrieked The Dealer, “Mr Cleave, help me!”

“He can’t hear you. Byron Cleave was killed while resisting arrest. We took him yesterday morning, as soon as we positively identified him this afternoon,” I said. “He went for his weapon, that cumbersome thing that bulged in his jacket as he stooped to intervene in our negotiation, but I was faster. Maybe his lag was catching up with him.”

“No. This is preposterous! You cannot use travel to convict me. I know my rights; disordered events are inadmissible.”

“Our conversation here this evening will provide more than enough evidence.”

“Entrapment then! What despicable wretch would use a child in his scheme to corrupt an honest businessman? It is not legal; it will not stand. No child can agree to take part in this. Run child! Flee this heinous beast!”

“I could never get away from this man even if I did run. Anyway, it was my idea,” said the boy calmly.

“It cannot be. Trust a wise old man, your father, this wretch, whoever he is, has lied to you, used you. A child cannot agree to be exploited in this way. You were mere bait in his trap to ensnare an innocent entrepreneur.”

“Like I said, it was my idea,” I said.

“And mine alone,” said the boy.

“Ah…” said The Dealer as he slumped in his chair, his head rolling forward under the weight of his thick vine of hair. He stared at his finger nails, coiling and twisting over the table, their shadows tearing at its surface in the flickering light of the faltering candle. “In the panopticon they will take time’s gifts from me,” he said with a moan.

“They will take everything,” we said, as the candle guttered and died.

Shorpy

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Scott Ritter: Germany is F*CKED as it faces total COLLAPSE, NATO in Big Trouble

First there are 2 fighters and I am not sure why only one of those fighters is being talked about as the 2nd plane is just as important possibly as the first.

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The first fighter labeled the J-36 is a triangular tailless fighter/bomber. There are multiple ways that this fighter could be set up.

  1. It could be used as a like a stealthy TU-22M3 with a range around 6000–7000km and speed over Mach 2 possibly closer to Mach 3. It would use most likely 3 WS-15 with total thrust output of 540KN or around 121,000lbs of thrust. Which with projected maximum weight of 50 tons would allow for a T/W of 1.21 at max afterburner. The armament is likely to either 10+ PL-15E’s or 6–8 PL-17’s with possibly 4 PL-12’s in smaller bays. The real question becomes how maneuverable will this plane be. It has the thrust but without vertical tails and what appears to be the lack of thrust vectoring it will very difficult to make agile. This why all NGAD renderings add canards to tailless designs to add better maneuverability. There are also theories on using puffs of air to move plane around but to date it has never been done.
  2. It could be used as a stealth standoff missile carrier similar to B-21. It could have no afterburners and travel subsonic with long range cruise missiles to penetrate air defences and fixed targets on the ground . In this case the need for high maneuverability would not be important as most likely it would use the new 500km AKF98A missile. It could also hold multiple glide bombs, or drones.

The second is what is being called the J-50 this seems to be the fighter jet of the 6th generation for China. It is approximately 2 meters longer and 9m wider wingspan than J-20. The J-50 is believed to use the 2 WS-15 engines with estimated top speed of Mach 2+. This design will allow for larger payload due to additional length and width allowing for larger weapons bay. This is also a tailless design therefore the all aspect stealth should be greatly increased. The swept back wing design with adjustable tail fins will produce strong aerodynamic performance.

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All this analysis is speculation as all we have seen are pictures and videos, the Chinese military have provided no details. I have heard a lot of coping by both American and Indian media speaking about things like NGAD having belter avionics or that in does not have adaptive cycle engines therefore it is not 6th generation. The fact is that China is years ahead of the US in the 6th generation fighter currently. How can I say that? These were not first time flights, these were not yellow prototypes flying around. The color scheme alone lets you know that these fighters are in much later testing in the phase, maybe 2 to 3 years from production if not less especially for the J-36 which I believe is what was called up until a week ago the JH-26 had spy photo’s up long ago. In fact the Chinese may have more hiding in the background. For all those who think that US is so far ahead in technology whether it be chip, AI or R&D I would ask you to see how even with the US doing everything it possibly to retard Huawei ability to innovate it has not worked. Their AI models a year or two behind the Americans. That is not a significant enough gap in technology to speak of especially since the gap keeps closing.

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main qimg 9d4a6e2ef30b2095e18862f7c24e17ab

Alleged JH-26 spy photo.

The point is this, if you took all the tech in the J-20 and just stuffed it into the J-36 added the rumored side arrays and additional optical. The improved stealth and range would make it a huge threat to all US carriers and naval vessels, Guam, Philippines and India. Fighter generations are a made up marketing tool by Lockheed Martin. Here is the question you need to ask? Will these new fighters make it easier for the Chinese to dominate the air and ground domain versus the US. The answer is yes and the Chinese will probably have a minimum 5 year head start. With China ability to manufacture equipment at the highest rate in the world that could be 50 fighters a year. That means in when the first Western 6th generation fighter roles off the assembly line there might already be 250 J-36’s and 250 J-50’s. There will be no recovering from that deficit. As the saying goes “quantity has a quality all it own”.

Hmmm. We are in our late 60’s and just downsized. We moved from a big 4 bed house to a condo.

We raised our kids in the old place and lived there 30 years. And yeah, we had a lot of stuff. All our parents and grandparents passed on and a lot of their stuff came to our house. We had a big basement, and a shed. Our kids moved in and out and in and out, leaving stuff stored. There was the archives of their childhoods. All kinds of tools and materials, and ladders and you name it from gardening and household projects. Holiday decor. Stuff from our respective careers and sports gear and hobbies.

We’d been looking at condos but in a slow motion, more to educate ourselves about neighbourhoods, amenities etc. we’d loved our house and our neighbourhood. Then we happened to see a condo on line, had a look, and that was it. We bought it. We were in the soup.

Getting rid of the stuff was awful. Serious, time consuming, hard work. Literal truckloads full being sorted and sent to auction, trash, donation. We gave what could be used to relatives and friends and kids. We forced kids and our son in law and daughter in law to come over and make decisions (it’s YOUR dresser and headboard, tell me what you want done with it).

Really painful decisions had to be made about cherished heirlooms and sentimental items we loved, but knew we’d have no space for. It was exhausting. It was grubby. It was overwhelming. It took forever. There were 100 million things I’d have MUCH rather been doing.

And yes, we hired help to get it done. We were motivated – and what’s more, we were healthy and physically well. We also hired a real estate agent who could help with prepping the old house for sale who had an eye for the neutral decor that sells these days (goodby burgundy living room and forest green dining room, lol)

Imagine if we’d waited a couple of years until we’d needed to move because one of us was ill, or had mobility issues. It was challenging enough on every front when we were relatively hale and hearty.

Getting settled in to our new place has also been a lot of work. I’m happy about it, but I’m also tired of thinking about window coverings and rugs and where things will fit. I’m tired of installing hooks and deciding where shelves need to go and where we will hang various pictures, and dealing with painters and electricians and plumbers. I’m sick of trying to figure out where I stashed things from boxes I’ve unpacked. I must have rearranged cupboards a half dozen times. No one likes moving. It’s expensive and inconvenient. It’s that much worse when you are older!

Take some pity on older folks. It would be totally too much for many. You basically have to do it long before you HAVE to and most folks don’t want to think about it, much less tackle it. It requires you to confront your own mortality and coming decline. You need to say – I can’t really go down those cellar steps safely…..or…..realistically, I’ll never mountain bike again…..or…..I loved to sew but my arthritis means I can’t any more. It’s hard to accept. It’s hard to part with things you love and hoped to use again.

China’s treatment of Uyghurs does not contradict its claim of upholding internationl norms. In fact, it is proof of China’s concern and caring for the Uyghurs. contrary to the lies of the US.

Consider the following factors:

POPULATION GROWTH

The Uygur population in Xinjiang has increased from over 8.34 million in 2000 to over 11.62 million in 2020. The growth rate was much higher than that of the country’s total ethnic minority population, which stood at 0.83 percent. This is not consistent with genocide.

EDUCATION

According to data from the seventh national census, 8,944 per 100,000 Uygurs had received a university education, an increase of 6,540 people compared to 2000, and the average years in education for those aged 15 and above also grew from 7.06 years in 2000 to 9.19 years in 2020. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed.

GDP

GDP has seen significant growth. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed. The flat chart between 2014 and 2016 is caused by the ETIM terrorists being most active and disruptive at that time.

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ksnip 20250102 111713

UNEMPLOYMENT

Unemployment has been brought down to lower than the national unemployment rate. For example, for 2017, China’s unemployment rate was 4.4% and for 2018, it was 4.28%.

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main qimg 900e6537e99f8d32a6fe20ca5ee6ce0f

TOURISM

Xinjiang has always been open to international tourism (not possible if there is oppression and genocide going on there).

From January to April this year (2023), Xinjiang received 51.2 million tourists (domestic and international), an increase of 29.6 percent year-on-year, with the region’s total tourism revenue rising 60.6 percent to hit 42.64 billion yuan ($5.45 billion)

Smunching on Cheese Nips and studying the Night Away

Back when I was attending university, one of my most common activities at that time was studying. Heck, by the time I reached my Senior year, I was an expert in this. I had the system down pat.

The professor would assign us maybe 20 questions from the back of the book out of the 100 there. And I would do all 100.

And while I would do these questions, I would be a smunching on this snack food called “Cheese Nips”. Ah, those little golden squares were de-lic-ious! I’ll tell you what!

There were various variations made by different companies. Goldfish. Cheez-It and the good ol’ Nips.

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That was my old study routine when I studied at home (my apartment room). A cup of instant coffee or tea, and Cheese Nips.

I would spend hours doing that.

That’s how I would learn. You do the boring tasks on repeat over and over, and over until you are able to perfect them.

Today…

Here’s my experience. This is from the time when I was returning to my place from school. It was a long day at school and I was quite tired.

I showed my U-PASS (Universal – Pass for Bus, Gym and Aquatic center), through the transparent section of my wallet, to BC transit bus driver and entered the bus. As I was tired and the bus ride was about 35 min long, I decided to doze off for some time telling the driver to let me know when my stop comes. The driver did exactly as I requested. He woke me up when my stop came and I, quickly, got off the bus. On arriving to my apartment, I went to bed in no time!

Next morning, when I started to get ready for school, I noticed that I am missing something. I couldn’t find my wallet with me. On recollecting events from the previous day, I realized I must have dropped my wallet in the bus as the last time I used my wallet was to show U-PASS to the bus driver. I thought that my wallet is gone with all my money and I will have to go though the pain of applying for all the IDs and cards again!

Even though I had lost all my hopes that time, I remembered signs of lost & found department in the transit buses. I thought I should at least give it a try. I found their number from the internet and called them. I was informed that someone had returned my wallet to the bus driver and they have my wallet! I was relieved a big time to know that my wallet was safe as it had my Credit Card, University ID, Care Card, cash, U-PASS and other reward cards. They verified my information and told me that I can pick it up from their office at my convenience.

Well, you must be thinking by now that this can happen in any country and any honest person would not keep other’s stuff with them. You’re not wrong! But I think what happened next would rarely happen in any other country.

I explained the person on phone that I can’t take transit because I don’t have my U-PASS and I also can’t take a cab as my credit card and cash were also in my wallet. Honestly, I was expecting the reply that it was my problem and I should find a way out!

However, this is Canada, things work differently here. Understanding my situation, the transit person drove to my place to return my wallet!!!! I also found that everything was intact in my wallet including every penny of my Cash! Wow!

Now this is my “Only in Canada” moment!

Thank you Canada for being awesome 🙂

Looks like Canada annexation is soon…

RCMP Secret Memo Warns Canada Is on the Brink of Economic and Social Collapse.

A secret report from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) paints a dire picture of Canada’s future — one where economic collapse, declining living standards, and widespread civil unrest are no longer a hypothetical.

The report, titled “Whole-of-Government Five-Year Trends” for Canada, was never meant for public eyes, containing “special operational information” distributed only among top government decision-makers and law enforcement.

Its conclusion? Canadians are running out of money, running out of hope, and—once they realize the depth of their economic despair could revolt. 

This is why Canada is suddenly criminalizing certain firearms ownership; they __know__ what’s coming.

“The coming period of recession will … accelerate the decline in living standards that the younger generations have already witnessed compared to earlier generations,” the report states. It warns that “many Canadians under 35 are unlikely ever to be able to buy a place to live.” In other words, an entire generation has been priced out of the dream their parents took for granted.

This isn’t alarmism—it’s backed by hard data. Canada’s economy is failing, and the government knows it.

The Proof: Canada’s Economic Stagnation

The Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) formed in 1961, is an inter-governmental organization that works to promote economic growth and world trade.   Recent data from the OECD reveals just how catastrophically Canada has mismanaged its economy.

Since 2015, real GDP per capita—the best measure of how an economy benefits individual citizens—has grown by a miserable one-point-four-percent (1.4%). This puts Canada second to last among all OECD countries, only ahead of Luxembourg, which actually shrank.

To put that into perspective, over the same period:

The United States grew by 18.2%

The OECD average was 13.6%

This means that if Canada had simply kept pace with U.S. productivity growth, the average Canadian would be earning $5,500 more per year.

The International Monetary Fund shows even worse financial performance from Canada:

IMF figures prove Canada Disolution
IMF figures prove Canada Disolution

Canada’s economic stagnation is not an accident — it’s a direct result of reckless government policy. Ottawa has prioritized mass immigration over economic productivity, flooding the country with over 1.2 million new people in 2023 alone, despite a housing shortage, overwhelmed healthcare system, and stagnant wages.

Meanwhile, the government continues to suffocate industry in pursuit of climate extremism, with carbon taxes, ESG mandates, while funneling billions into unaccountable climate slush funds.

And while Canadians struggle to make ends meet, the government has grown into a bloated, parasitic entity, consuming more wealth than it creates. The number of federal employees has exploded by over 108,000 since 2015.

This isn’t sustainable. The more socialist Canada becomes, the worse life gets. Government-controlled economics have turned a once-thriving country into a stagnant, overtaxed, mess, where home ownership is out of reach, wages are stagnant, and personal wealth is eroded by inflation and bureaucratic waste.

The United States knows this, too, which is why President Trump is already telling Canadians they should become the 51st state.

It has nothing to do with animosity toward Canada, or even expansionist dreams of the USA.   The Liberal governments of Canada have already destroyed the nation; it just has not yet manifested itself at levels the public can readily see.   That manifestation, is now, unavoidable.

Direct Link to RCMP Report (Redacted Version for Public distribution) HERE

Luigi Mangione Perp Walk BACKFIRES On NYPD!

Unrest in Happiness Hills

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

Jessica Stone

2 comments

General

Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice. The others that passed you seemed to all be staring as if they knew what you held already.As if they could see through the seams of your leather coat, vintage and rough edged, dark brown and smelling of mold.Even though they seemed to stare they still smiled widely in your direction. You were making your way to the circle.The village always seems so joyful, the others are always this happy. They don’t even need holidays, though around this time the men and women gather to dance in the circle and feast upon the merry infants whose parents couldn’t bother to, or were not allowed to keep them.It can’t be considered a magical time because they are always dancing and everyone is always eating, but you suppose these people are more together than usual.Most any other time, you see them travel in pairs, man to a woman, a woman to a man, no other way, and they seem to enjoy this way.However you, you do not.

 

Something about them gives you a mortifyingly poisonous taste in your mouth and it all started when you went past the hills a little ways and found the thing, the thing you hold so tenderly.

 

And now they made you sick, not because of the culture, not because of the town that is filled with the smell of rain mixed with luminous beauty and decor, and certainly not because of the ghastly antique top hats and pearls that decorated the others and sometimes yourself now.

 

No, it is how unrelentingly happy they are.

 

You have done so much to try and shake their joy and they remain the same, like they aren’t living, they aren’t feeling. You’ve yelled at them, threw stuff, hit people, let them know how much you hate they’re creepy smiles straight to their faces.

 

Nothing in their faces change.

 

Such unrest in your soul and all because of these happy people, but the others joy was not like your own for it did not ever waver and something, you knew it, was wrong. Very wrong.

 

You had lived here your entire life and everything was okay until you came of age. Your parents were smiley too, but when you went through what they call the arrival, you began to feel all these things, more things than you were ever supposed to. Then you got to meet the others and the others didn’t feel the way you did either.

 

And it scared you, but this thing in your pocket might settle your uneasy mind. At least you hoped. You had found the thing stuck among a thick of branches and you just knew there was something special about it.

 

Right now the thing wasn’t working to help you feel at ease though, you weren’t sure why, but this new feeling was everywhere. The special feeling the thing gave you.

 

You knew it was forbidden to go beyond the hills to get the thing, but you went and you took it anyway thinking maybe, just maybe the others would feel about this object as you do.

 

The dirt between your toes was thick and sticky and the air was cool enough to be uncomfortable. The others dancing among the warmth of fire was so synchronized and smooth as if they were born to do what they do.

 

You had felt like something was off for a while now. When you were younger you were kept below the grounds and were fed and given water intermittently. In that world at least you never understood enough to care. However, your parents over the past year or so made you feel as if they were waiting to use you for something, though you’re not sure what.

 

You were also unsure of how the men and women pair together like they do, and unsure of where the kids of the hills came from.

 

Something you do know is that there are no children in the above grounds, and you assume they are all living a life similar to yours and you were living similar to how your parents did, minus all these feelings. Unless those kids were of the given infants.

 

Either way, the above ground was rather gloomy, though it held a sort of magic, at least that’s what you thought. Never knowing what it looked like in the above ground and never knowing the feeling of wonder until the arrival would make the hills magical.

 

As the others did spins amongst one another with beaming smiles, and touched hands as they bounced so elegantly to the sound of the wind, you came closer to them.

 

The closer you got to them however, the more disturbed they seemed to get, offbeat and slow stepping, and their eyes. They seemed to all look straight at your face.

 

 

Not your face. Through you. They were in your head and they could see straight through you and your body felt stiff and naked.

 

Your insides went up in flames and you pulled the thing out of the folds of your coat with clumsy bravery. The odor of the above ground was immense smelling of what you had never smelt, and the pain of the charring of your lungs and other organs began to spot your vision.

 

And their eyes.

 

Their eyes. They were bright and prudent and deep red and they moved you.

 

The thing caught on fire and its angelic symbols scribed upon it started to spin inside your head.

 

There was screaming and writhing as you neared the others blaze. Their fire they dance around merrily now serving as your bed.

 

The others surround you now and they read the symbols in your head aloud, with booming voices that sound as if they come from the sirens of the underground.

 

And suddenly the world is black and all of the sensations are gone and you feel

 

so

 

much

 

happier.

Ugh! You have no idea how bad life is in China!

I mean, every morning I get up and go to work. On my way to work, as I drive my ebike, I’m forced to go around the people who are cleaning the streets. How horrible the government is to employ people to do such despicable things as sweeping up fallen leaves (which can cause slippery surfaces, especially when tied together with morning fog).

Also, along my way to work, I pass a wall. It’s not just any wall, though. It’s a wall that they put up to block sounds and debris from construction sites. And on top of that, they even force the trucks that go in and out of the site to get sprayed with water. How dare they do that! People should be free to choke on the dust that gets kicked up and have the liberty to get headaches from the constant noise.

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Well, maybe this weekend I can take a small trip. But it’s horrible when I travel, too! I should be free to waste half a day traveling, but instead I am subjected to the horrors of quick, convenient, and inexpensive high-speed rail.

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Note: Only the Northeast Corridor is considered high-speed rail, even though the speed is around half of what Chinese HSR trains go. Everything else is “conventional rail”.

Oh well, maybe I won’t travel, and instead go downtown. But the nightmare still follows me around. Public transportation is everywhere – bus routes go everywhere, and the subway system is huge. And it’s all clean. The buses are electric and the subways are immaculate. Everyone knows that the true mark of freedom and liberty is to get hepatitis just by entering a subway, or getting choked to death by fumes from ridiculously priced buses.

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The horror. At least there’s grocery shopping. Everyone knows that the hallmarks of a free society are spending way too much money for overly processed foodz™ (ever since 2017, the percentage of ingredients that can be classified as actual food dropped below 50%, so US companies can no longer actually call it “food”. Ya know, just like what happened with “cheez” or “creme”).

Oh, but wait… how horrible! I can’t pay an absurd amount for groceries in China!

Well, bummer. The groceries are too cheap in China compared to Freedomland. But they’re highly processed, right?

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What?! No processed crap?

Where’s the freedom?

In the US, they are free to pay extra money for packaging that patriotically gets thrown away (and hides the brown spots on vegetables), but in China, we are forced to buy vegetables that not only are touching each other, but came out of the ground! That’s so gross! And why do those carrots in China look so long and pointy? Everyone knows that the shape of a real carrot is rounded and pill-like:

This Tactical Manoeuvre by Putin SHOCKED The WORLD: Russia Dealt a Mortal Blow To NATO

Some fun Pictures of Masculine home offices

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Uyghur Fighters In Syria to Fight China

Spicy Tomato Fettuccine

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Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 8 ounces fettuccine, cooked
  • 2 ounces turkey bacon
  • 1 large onion
  • 4 or 5 large tomatoes, peeled and seeded
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 2 garlic cloves, pressed
  • 1 teaspoon basil
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • Parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook pasta according to package directions. Keep warm.
  2. Fry bacon until crisp on 11 inch griddle; drain and set aside.
  3. Chop onions and tomatoes with food chopper.
  4. Snip parsley using kitchen cutters.
  5. Heat olive oil and stir-fry skillet. Press garlic with garlic press into skillet. Stir-fry 15 seconds.
  6. Add onion. Stir-fry 2 to 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, parsley, and seasoning to skillet.
  7. Gently stir 3 to 4 minutes until thoroughly heated.
  8. Remove from heat and serve over pasta. Grate fresh Parmesan cheese over top.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Looks like Mexico is prepping for an invasion…

Behold: The End for Mexico Drug Cartels

The United States has now deployed two . . .  count ’em . . .  1, 2 . . . Navy Destroyers, and with this deployment, the ENTIRE Mexico Drug Cartel network can be utterly destroyed within . . . . minutes.

Two US Destroyers Mark END to Cartels large
Two US Destroyers Mark END to Cartels large

Last Monday, the USS Gravely (FILE PHOTO BELOW) took to the Gulf coast, heading toward Mexico.

Gravely Visits Greece
Gravely Visits Greece

 

Yesterday, the USS Spruance (FILE PHOTO BELOW) took to the Pacific Coast, headed toward Mexico.

USS Spruance
USS Spruance

Each vessel carries a total of ninety-six (96) missiles in vertical launch cells.  Those missiles can be of several different types, but the Tomahawk cruise missile, with it’s 1,000+ mile range, is worthy of particular mention because, as shown on the map above, each US Destroyer, when equipped with those missiles, has the ENTIRE land area of Mexico within reach.   All of it!

These cruise missiles are so accurate, that the United States can target a particular WINDOW of a particular Building from 1000+ miles away, and when the missile arrives, it will go through the center of the window so perfectly, it won’t even touch the window frame.   That’s how accurate these things are.

Targeting?  That’s probably already being done.

For weeks, the United States Air Force has been sending surveillance aircraft along both coasts of Mexico, and surveillance drones over the actual land of Mexico – with permission from the Mexican government.

On February 15, CNN Reported:

The US military has significantly increased its surveillance of Mexican drug cartels over the past two weeks, with sophisticated spy planes flying at least 18 missions over the southwestern US and in international airspace around the Baja peninsula, according to open-source data and three US officials familiar with the missions.

The flights, conducted over a 10-day period in late January and early February, represent a dramatic escalation in activity, current and former military officials say, and come as President Donald Trump directs the military to secure the border and deter cartels’ drug smuggling operations.

These drones are equipped with surveillance gear that would make the former Soviet KGB blush.  They can pinpoint particular cell phones within  . . . . inches . . . . of its actual location.  They can see in the day, at night, through storm clouds, rain, sleet, snow, hail, fog.   They can use regular vision, infra-red, even thermography.  NOTHING can escape their view.

Some of these drones – and US military space satellites — are equipped with technology that actually lets them peer through . . . . roofs!  They can get imagery from INSIDE a structure!

Which brings us to the whole Drug Cartel infrastructure.   They need laboratories to make and mix — and warehouses to store — their poison, to be smuggled into the United States. Take a look at what happens when US Cruise missiles start striking targets.   Below, video from the year 2003 in Baghdad, Iraq:

 

 

Those are steel-reinforced, concrete government buildings being individually hit.  None survived.  What do you think the drug labs would look like if the US hits THEM?

Many of the Cartel laboratories are underground; dug into hills in remote areas of Mexico.

The U.S. learned all about underground and cave warfare from our hunt for Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan.  We located the caves, then sent a missile to COLLAPSE the cave – or bunker – entrance.   Here’s a small video showing how we do it.  Send a single Fighter Jet:

 

 

The blast either buries them alive in tons of rock rubble, or they suffocate to death in minutes.  If the blast itself doesn’t kill them, suffocation will.

As mentioned earlier, the two ships carry a total of 192 missiles between them; 96 missiles each.   But in reality, there may NOT be that many drug labs.   So what else might the US target?   The Cartel bosses in their homes.

With such accurate missiles, the US can put a missile right through the bedroom window of the Cartel bosses homes.

So if only half the 192 missiles have to take out labs, the other half can take out Cartel bosses in their homes.

In one fell swoop, the ENTIRE Mexican Drug Cartel problem is stopped – dead.

This would also be a powerful message to all those who weren’t targeted and therefore survived.  When they see the labs destroyed, and find out their bosses were blown up in their own homes, it would be a powerful deterrent from anyone else doing the same thing.

It remains to be seen if the U.S. undertakes such an operation but if we do, it can all be over in one night, with zero US personnel on the ground.

In my personal opinion, the US looks to me as though it is planning something exactly like this.

As for Mexico and its “sovereignty” . . . .  we should just do this operation and when the Mexicans complain, we just need to say “Look, we told you who was doing this.  We told you where.  We told you to take care of it.  You didn’t.  So, we did.  

We’re really sorry we violated your sovereignty, but how sovereign are you that you didn’t take care of this when we told you about it?

Now, it’s done.

The next time we tell you that more than two thousand Americans are dying every week from illegal Fentanyl, cocaine, and Heroine,  and we tell you who is doing it and where they are, maybe you should take care of it right then and there, so we don’t have to come in and do it for you — again.”

All’s fair in love and war

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

Millie Spence

General

Xander’s fingers tensed around the object in his hands, ready to pull it out in a moment’s notice. His eyes locked on his target, a small, freckled teen, fumbling around with laces on his boots.

“My people won’t let you win. Not this time.” The former spoke, keeping his tone low and ominous. The small boy brought his gaze forward, eyes burning their way through the soul of the taller boy.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, my friend.” He chuckled, menacingly. His lips turned up into a cruel smile, causing the tanned boy to take a step back, intimidated. While taking a step back, his foot hit a rock. Stumbling, he tried to regain his footing but failed and with as little grace as humanly possible, he went tumbling towards the ground. Xander laid on the floor, his eyes closed, braced for death. But when he had opened his eyes again, he saw that his opponent had left. His eyes locked on him on the other side of the battle field, conversing with his team. Enraged, he came running towards the freckled boy, weapon in hand.

“You coward!” He bellowed, waving his weapon. His enemy merely laughed and lowered the weapon that was being waved in front of his face.

“Careful, you might hurt someone.” He teased, walking away. Xander closed his eyes with frustration, tired of this fight, when he heard a loud shot. Panicked, he opened his eyes and ran towards the sound of the deafening shot.

 

When he got there it was a sight he couldn’t believe. It was one of his teammates. He was lying on the floor, red staining his blue uniform.

“Vincent!” Xander cried, holding onto his friend.

“Who did this to you!” He choked out through the tears, motioning towards his jacket that is stained a blood red.

“Sylvester.” He mumbled, coughing violently between syllables. Xander began to try and lift his injured friend, only to be stopped by a weak hand preventing him.

“No.” Was all that the weak teen could say.

“What?” Xander asked, confused that he would want to be left in a place like this.

“You leave me here. Save yourself, there’s still a chance for you.” Hearing these words, caused Xander to cry more.

“Please. Please let me help you.”

“There’s nothing that you can do for me.” He whispered. Xander took one final glance at his fallen comrade before he ran over to avenge him.

 

Frantic. Panicked. Alone. He was the last person on his side on the battlefield. He was the only person left. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to win. Not only for himself, but for all the people he had lost during this gruesome battle. His senses were heightened; his heart was pounding. Was he dying? He couldn’t let that happen. Sluggishly picking up his weapon he stumbled slightly towards the group of enemies. They all turned in surprise, grabbing their weapons ready to strike. In one foul swoop, he took out all three of them. Without a blink of an eye or breath taken into the lungs, he was running again. Running. Running. Running. His eyes were burning with tears that threatened to spill, his throat was tight and he found it hard to breath. He had to win. He couldn’t lose. Not to them.

 

“I won’t let you win!” He heard a disembodied voice. He knew that voice. He ducked behind a bush quickly so that he could think about a plan. Loud bangs were heard, he had one again narrowly avoided death.

“You can’t run from me forever!” The voice taunted, another round of shots. This time closer.

“Are you scared? It doesn’t hurt that bad.” The voice teased, chuckling manically. Another round of shots. Closer.

“You know your fate, you can’t escape it.” Another round of shots. They were now so close that the noise caused Xander’s ears to ring slightly. He moved back. He was not ready to engage. Not yet. He needed a plan. He couldn’t risk this. There was too much riding on this.

“I’ll fight you when I want to fight you.” Xander called out to the silence battlefield, earning an incredulous scoff from the freckled boy.

“You’re running out of time.” He taunted in sing-song. Moving away back to his own safety. They sat there for some time, each not wanting to make the first move. Both of them wanted to win. They both had something to prove.

 

Xander looked down at his leg and noticed he was bleeding. Must have cut it on the thorn bush. He thought to himself, cursing himself loudly.

“The cries of the weak.” His opponent chuckled, checking his weapon. Now would be a good time for me to strike. Xander thought to himself quickly, before occupying himself with stopping his leg from bleeding.

“Let’s end this!” Xander called, leaving the safety of the bush.

“Yes, lets.” The enemy said, mimicking his actions. Xander heard the sound of leaves and branches breaking getting louder and louder. He went to pick up his weapon. It wasn’t there. Oh no. He’s right there. Xander’s mind filled with anxious self-doubt. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? What was he hoping to achieve by risking so much?

“No!” Xander bellowed, making sure to keep his voice straight and steady when standing face to face with his worst nightmare. The stern tone in Xander’s voice caused his opponent to take a step back, surprised by the force of the command.

“What? You can’t do that! You cant back out now!” the freckled boy screeched, voice becoming more and more frantic with every syllable.

“I believe I can.” Xander was cocky now, he had let his guard down. Only a few seconds left. While he was thinking, the small boy took advantage of his distracted state and with one elegant pull of the trigger. Bang!

 

There was a silence that rung through the battlefield. 2 second left on the clock.

“Babe!” The fallen soldier whined, laying on the floor like an infant that was just told that their parent won’t buy them the toy they want.

“What?” The enemy chuckled, offering a hand to the taller boy, who took it gratefully.

“You always win, Finnley!” Xander pouted, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

“Maybe you’re just terrible at paintballing,” his gaze dropped to the cut on his leg, “and clumsy. How did you manage that.”

“Manage what?”

“How did you manage to cut your leg.”

“There are thorn bushes everywhere.”

“And you’re wearing padding.”

“Shut up.” Xander pouted more, causing Finnley to giggle slightly. He grabbed the pouty teen’s clammy hand and led him over to the table where all of the other players sat.

“Which team won?” Vincent asked, looking up from his book.

“The red team!” Finnley yelled, earning a gently punch in the side from his stroppy boyfriend. From the distance, a slow clapping could be heard. All intrigued, the group walked over to see the event organiser’s table.

“That was a very interesting game.” One of the organisers chucked, earning cheers from the tired teenagers.

“A little over dramatic, but that’s what makes it fun.” The second organiser added, taking a bite out of their slice of pizza. Looking at that pizza reminded Xander that he hasn’t eaten in hours.

“This was fun guys, let’s go get pizza.” He said, earning more cheers from the teens.

“Oh great, I’m starving!” Sylvester called, excitement ringing through his voice. with that, the group left the harsh battlefield and went to go get pizza from the brightly coloured restaurant across the road. For the rest of the evening, they stayed in the restaurant talking and laughing about the day’s events until the manager had to ask them to leave so that he could close up.

What are the unwritten dress code rules in Singapore that visitors often miss?

Have spent time with family and friends in Singapore for ages I still don’t know any written ‘dress codes’ in Singapore. I saw my staff where a gym suit with oversized backpack to work all the time, even a 50-year-old family man wore an oversized Micky mouse T-shirt on Saturday when he did an O/T for me.

My client who became a friend’s 20-something pretty daughter wore a standard ‘white T-shirt and tiny Levi’s denim shorts with Adidas shoes driving a Mini Cooper on all occasions, not sure if to college, to collect her NRIC, shopping, Gym, police station, hawker center, hospital, you name it.

Andrew, my Singaporean Chinese buddy ever told me, he’s never seen his mom wearing anything other than pajamas.

Even if you and your gf wear a T-shirt with ‘The Lion King or I💕Singapore’ to a wedding lunch at ‘ The Four Seasons’, no one raises an eyebrow.

Any visitors to Singapore won’t miss anything about unwritten dress code rules in Singapore.

In praise of Luckin

That is a tricky question because i have a girlfriend that has a 13 year old girl and she is very pretty and yes i do have pictures of her usually that my girlfriend sends me and i save them but i do not hide them. I am against relationships with under age girls and massage thinking she is pretty, there is no sexual attraction and that’s what you really want to know if your boyfriend has. I would have been questioning him he may not be guilty of anything unless he is trying to hide it as for me i do not have any screenshot of her daughter. Most of the pictures i have is when my girlfriend get money from me and will buy her a dress or shoes for something along that line and send me a picture. There is really no more to say

Exposition (Green Flag #1)

He told me I was perfectly healthy, then he held my hand, while I sobbed my denials, then looked me in the eye and told me I needed a therapist.

The kindness was the worst part. He was absolutely wrong, and oh-so-sure I was ‘in need of help.’ I was in need of help. My tonsils were rotting under a lovely pink layer of seemingly healthy skin. How an ENT could have missed this I don’t know, but I was already sleeping on the pavement walking between buildings for classes–I remember someone asking me if I was ok, and telling them the bricks were just so lovely-warm… It was February. In Virginia.

A month later I couldn’t go 12 hours off antibiotics without running a fever. Student health sent me to a different ENT and he spotted the problem. He put me on 60 days of penicillin (I’m not kidding) to get me healthy enough for surgery, after which the surgeon told my mother my tonsils were the nastiest necrotic mess he’d ever seen.

It’s just an awful thing, being told to get therapy by an expert who doesn’t believe you’re sick. Doctors do it a lot. I’ve had it happen several times, but that was my first.

I was at a (get this) Church social club for kids when some random kid asked me how old I was

“Eleven”, I replied. His reply, as he punched me clean in the mouth, was “All the best kids are 13!”

My brother looked over a few minutes later and came to ask what had happened as he’d noticed me with a bloody lip.

The wannabe bully boy shouted over to me as he left grinning at the end of the session “Don’t forget, all the best kids are 13”

“Wrong!” Said my brother, who was waiting by the door “the best kids are 14!” as he floored him with one punch.

Never had any crap from him again.

Investor alert: China is drinking a lot more coffee, and taking the supply chains off our exchanges

The inspiration for today’s intro.

What’s Really Going On In the South China Sea Between the Philippines and China
December 4, 2024 Ms. Cat

What’s Really Going On In the South China Sea Between the Philippines and China

by Tina Antonis

Maritime clashes between the Philippines and China had been mostly over the Philippines’ military outpost, BRP (BRP—Barko ng Republika ng Pilipinas, which translates to “Ship of the Republic of the Philippines”—the ship prefix for the Philippines) Sierra Madre, in the Spratly Islands, which is disputed by Brunei, China, Malaysia, the Philippines, Taiwan (a province of China, as recognized by the United Nations’ Resolution No. 2758), and Vietnam.

The BRP Sierra Madre was intentionally run aground on a reef near the Second Thomas Shoal in the disputed Spratly Islands, in 1997, so that the Philippines could stake their territorial claim.

The WWII-era ship is rusted out and on its way to disintegrating. In December 2023, the Philippines allocated funds to replace the ship with a permanent structure. Coincidentally, in September 2023, Blake Herzinger, a research fellow at the United States Studies Centre of the University of Sydney, penned an article titled, “It’s Time to Build Combined Forward Operating Base Sierra Madre.”

This outpost would be “manned by combined rotational forces from both the Philippines and the U.S. Marine Corps,” according to Herzinger. In it, he admits that doing so, “would be a provocative move, and it would not be without significant risk.”

In October 2023, the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFU) admitted that their resupply missions to the BRP Sierra Madre were carrying materials that were used in the maintenance and repair of the ship. China had been accusing the Philippines of using its resupply missions to send “illegal building materials” to reinforce the dilapidated ship on several occasions. In June of this year, The Financial Times revealed that the Philippines had “secretly” reinforced the BRP Sierra Madre at the Second Thomas Shoal.

On March 5, 2024, in response to an incident at the Second Thomas Shoal, U.S. State Department Spokesperson Matthew Miller stated that “Article IV of the 1951 U.S.-Philippines Mutual Defense Treaty extends to armed attacks on Philippine armed forces, public vessels, or aircraft, including those of its coast guard, anywhere in the South China Sea.” At the time, the crash was “not the time or reason to invoke a Mutual Defense Treaty with the United States,” according to Philippine President Bongbong Marcos. Invoking the Mutual Defense Treaty by the Philippines could lead to an armed conflict between China and the U.S. Military.

Recently, these clashes have been occurring at the Sabina Shoal, another disputed atoll in the Spratly Islands. In May, the Philippines claimed that China was carrying out “small-scale reclamation” and anchored the BRP Teresa Magbanua at Sabina Shoal to “catch and document the dumping of crushed corals over the sandbars” (China denied this). The Philippines had been using the BRP Teresa Magbanua as a staging area for their resupply missions to the BRP Sierra Madre at Second Thomas Shoal.

A new Philippine Coast Guard vessel was sent to Sabina Shoal, according to Jonathan Malaya, the spokesperson for the National Security Council of the Philippines, on September 26. However, he declined to comment on the specifics of their intentions or plans citing operational security concerns.

Behind the scenes, an information operation has been going on. Information operations, also known as influence operations, involve spreading misleading information and obtaining tactical knowledge about competitors to get the upper hand. Think tank representatives, financed by the US government and corporate sponsors, have been working with the Philippine Coast Guard on ”assertive transparency,” or what the Philippines calls their “transparency initiative.”

With grants from the U.S. State Department, between 2022 and 2024, the Stratbase ADR Institute held a series of roundtable discussions highlighting the importance of multilateral cooperation and strategic alliances in addressing regional “security challenges” and “public diplomacy,” or the act of “influencing foreign publics” to support “U.S. foreign policy goals.”

On January 5th, 2023, Stratbase, together with the US Embassy in the Philippines, hosted a town hall discussion where experts and scholars shared their assessments and recommendations on the various Indo-Pacific strategies and the foreign policy of Marcos Jr.’s administration.

It was here that Ray Powell introduced his “Project Myoushu” strategy, which was inspired by the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS). CSIS receives funding from the U.S. government and other governments allied with the U.S., non-governmental and nonprofit organizations (NGOs & NPOs), defense contractors and other corporate donors. Another such event occurred on March 8th, 2023, where Ray Powell gave a presentation in which he described using “independent analysts, storytellers, influencers, media, and embedded journalists.”

Powell, a veteran of the U.S. Air Force and a former Defense Attaché (the Defense Attaché System is part of the Defense Intelligence Agency, the “Pentagon’s top spy agency”), is the team lead of SeaLight, at Stanford University’s Gordian Knot Center for National Security Innovation (GKC). The creation of Stanford University’s GKC was sponsored by the Office of Naval Research (ONR), an organization within the Department of Defense.

Stanford University has contracts with the U.S. government. The center’s goal is to assist the U.S. government in rethinking how it approaches “national security” matters.

The “transparency initiative” tactic highlights China’s “gray zone activities”, in the South China Sea. One aspect used is embedding journalists on these resupply missions.

The original purpose of embedding was to control journalists, according to Helen Benedict, a professor at the Columbia Journalism School. Citing award-winning Australian journalist Phillip Knightley’s book “The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-Maker from the Crimea to Iraq” which describes how the U.S. government invented embedded journalism in response to critical coverage of the Vietnam War.

As civilian casualties in Afghanistan reached 5,000, the Pentagon sought a media strategy that would bring attention back to the military’s role in the war, especially the role played by ordinary American service members. This would require bringing war correspondents on side.

Another aspect of this “transparency initiative” is using civil society organizations, such as the Atin Ito Coalition, led by Rafaela David and Edicio dela Torre, to draw attention to the South China Sea. Rafaela is also the executive director of the Center for Youth Advocacy and Networking (CYAN). CYAN has been financed from the National Endowment for Democracy (NED), which gets the majority of its funding from the U.S. Congress. With its origins dating back to the late 1960s, when the Central Intelligence Agency faced criticism for secretly supporting activists and opposition groups in nations that appeared to be leaning closer to the Soviet Union.

Following the revelation of those CIA plots, the agency faced criticism for what some perceived to be devious manipulation of sovereign states. Congress established the NED in 1983 after years of discussion about whether and how the financing should continue.

Edicio dela Torre is the current President and Vice Chairperson of the Philippine Rural Reconstruction Movement (PRRM). The PRRM was started in 1952 by Chinese rural education advocate Y. C. James Yen with financial assistance from the United States and the Rockefeller family. In 1983, Yen was awarded the People to People Eisenhower Medallion.

The People-to-People Program was initiated by President Dwight D. Eisenhower, with initial connections to the U.S. government through the United States Information Agency (USIA).

The USIA’s public diplomacy activities were ultimately transferred to the U.S. Department of State, while its propaganda operations were transferred to the Broadcasting Board of Governors, which has since become the U.S. Agency for Global Media. In the 1950s, during the Hukbalahap Rebellion, the CIA covertly funded the PRRM through front organizations such as the Asia Foundation (formerly the Committee for a Free Asia) and the Catherwood Foundation.

On September 15th, Powell appeared on 60 Minutes, along with the Philippine Secretary of National Defense Gilbert Teodoro, and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines Romeo Brawner Jr. In the 60 Minutes episode, Teodoro refused to confirm if the Typhon missile launcher—a mid-range missile system capable of reaching mainland China—would be permanently stationed in the Philippines.

Three days later, Philippine army spokesperson, Colonel Louie Dema-ala, said training was ongoing, and it was up to Philippine authorities and the United States Army Pacific Command (USARPAC) to decide how long the missile system would stay.

Presently, the Typhon is situated in the Taiwan Strait and faces the South China Sea on the northern island of Luzon. In early September, the U.S. announced that it wants to deploy another Typhon missile launcher “around Japan’s southwestern islands, which are near Taiwan”. While the U.S. claims that these missile launchers are to “strengthen deterrence”, their deployment has only provoked tensions in the area.

While 60 Minutes did state that “in 2016, an international tribunal at The Hague ruled the Philippines has exclusive economic rights in a 200-mile zone that includes Sabina Shoal” and that “China does not recognize the ruling”, their statements were misleading. The South China Sea Arbitration did not rule on sovereignty, and China does not recognize it because the Arbitral Tribunal lacked jurisdiction.

“The Arbitral Tribunal violated the principle of state consent, exercised its jurisdiction ultra vires and rendered an award in disregard of the law. This is a grave violation of UNCLOS and general international law, Wang said.”

The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) is an international treaty that establishes a legal framework for all marine and maritime activities. The Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) is not an agency of the United Nations. The PCA rents space in the same building as the UN’s International Court of Justice.

A Congressional Research Service report, dated August 2023, stated that the U.S. has not declared its position regarding sovereignty over any of the geographical elements that comprise the South China Sea.

The United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) estimates that about 80% of global trade is carried out by sea, both in terms of volume and value. Of that amount, 60% of marine trade travels through Asia, with approximately one-third of all shipping occurring in the South China Sea. Because the Strait of Malacca connects the South China Sea and, consequently, the Pacific and Indian oceans, China, Taiwan (the United States does not officially support Taiwan’s independence), Japan, and South Korea depend heavily on its waters.

China’s economic security is intimately linked to the South China Sea, as the country has the second-largest economy globally and more than 60% of its trade is conducted by water. If the U.S. were to attempt to enforce a blockade in the South China Sea, they would risk retaliation from China.

A war with China would not only interrupt international trade, it’s highly probable that the United States would lose due to China’s anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities. Anti-Access refers to any action, activity, or capacity, usually long-range, that is intended to prevent an advancing military force from accessing an operational area.

Area denial is described as any action, activity, or capability, usually short-range, that is intended to limit an adversary force’s freedom of action inside an operational area. Long-range artillery and rocket weapons, air defenses, littoral anti-ship capabilities, and layered, integrated long-range precision-strike systems are all part of the threat A2/AD defense architecture.

China’s advanced A2/AD system includes missiles and hypersonic weapons, which the US lacks defense against. China is also developing microwave-photonic radar systems to track incoming hypersonic missiles, potentially enabling defense against powerful militaries’ latest offensive technologies.

The Philippines, has succeeded in garnering support from Western countries through military assistance, funds to upgrade military bases and infrastructure, modernize the Armed Forces of the Philippines, defense agreements with at least 18 countries (minilateralism), joint military exercises in the South China Sea, and the addition of four new EDCA (under the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement, American military personnel, planes, and ships may station themselves periodically in the Philippines at predetermined places) sites—three in north Luzon facing Taiwan and one in Palawan facing the South China Sea.

China sees this “coalition of the willing” as undermining “regional security and peace.”

The Philippines should seek détente with China and practice quiet diplomacy, as their “transparency initiative” has only escalated tensions in the South China Sea, instead of risking World War III.

Japan’s auto industry is lost – its global position almost to be completely and permanently toppled.

What is happening in Japan is also happening to the other home of the global auto legacies – Germany.

The auto industry defines these two most industralized countries for the last half century . . . . with its sphere of influence extending beyond not just the economics. . . . but the social and political.

Even up to this mid-year, Akio Toyoda can still be seen peddling – and leading the charge of his fellow auto makers – in promoting the hydrogen car and retaining as much as possible the place of the ICE cars for the future. This is until he was replaced and no mention of the hydrogen has been heard since. But there is BMW still promising the notion of the water-engine car as an alternative to EV is still alive.

The main driver for this resistence to EV? Japan and Germany have the huge ecosystem of manufacturing ICE cars that will have to be “replaced” – i.e., millions of workers fired and massive plant closures to transition to a new EV ecosystem requiring new sets of resources, increasingly to be software assuming a greater proportion relative to hardware – a transition from analog to digital.

Japan’s and Germany’s halfhearted effort at developing its EVs have shown them to be at least 5 years behind China . . . . and even further behind if taken within the context of developing the supply chain to have a semblance of independence from China’s.

German, Japanese and Koreans are seeing their Chinese market share declining or collapsing that they were so dominant just 4 years ago. And losing position in the world’s largest market means losing their global positions as Chinese EV are now waging its offensive to takeover overseas markets.

China is on the ascendancy in dominating the global auto industry and there is very little the Germans and Japanese can do to change the trajectory because in reality this transition is not just to the EVs but to the SMARTCARS, the extension of the digital age from the smartphone. Western media has focused on the jaggernaut of BYD but is not making the world aware of the greater significance of the software Chinese EVs are being incorporated with.

Huawei is implementing its Harmony operating system as an alternative to Andriod and by extension its NearLink technology and alliance – to replace WIFI and bluetooth – as their technologies for China’s IoT platform and ecosystem. Note that the two hottest selling EVs in China are those from Huawei and Xioami. This is making EVs with software to be the central focus of mobility in the IoT ecosystem of smart devices of the future. This is China now defining and setting industry standards not just for the future of mobility but for all future smart devices .

Modern Women LOVE to Destroy MEN’S Hobbies | Pearl Daily

It’s unreasonable for the wife to accept the invitation and all that entails as well as wrong.

But an invitation to go swimming with another man alone at 1am is rarely the beginning of this unreasonable act. Someone has not been present in the relationship to even consider the spouse would or should have no problem with it. And something want south before the invitation for your wife to consider wanting to accept instead of being offended by it. Don’t let anyone play dumb with you. Find out what those something’s are and go from there. Actually this is really too far.

The main contents of this issue of China Military News:

The new submarine is unveiled for the first time! Under the guidance of Xi Jinping’s thought on strengthening the army, we will forge ahead on the road to strengthening the army and fight a decisive battle; the navy and air force of the Southern Theater Command are on combat readiness patrol around China’s Huangyan Island; the Navy’s Sichuan ship is officially launched; approaching the field command post of a brigade in the Eastern Theater Command; a direct visit to the PLA’s winter training ground; Xinjiang Military Region border guards: guarding the Karakoram Mountains with loyalty; the Eastern Theater Command’s “Red Sharp Knife Company” – unmanned equipment is refined and powerful; China’s space station is operating well, and its application results are fruitful…

Main content of this episode: President Xi Jinping emphasized: “Building a strong modern navy is an important symbol of building a world-class military, a strategic support for building a maritime power, and an important part of realizing the Chinese dream of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.” “In the journey of the new era, in the struggle to realize the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, the task of building a strong people’s navy has never been as urgent as it is today.” From the first aircraft carrier Liaoning to the first domestically-produced aircraft carrier Shandong, and then to the first domestically-produced catapult-type aircraft carrier Fujian, the Chinese Navy has continuously made major breakthroughs! 2024 is about to come to an end. Looking back on this year, the Chinese military has made sonorous steps and written countless glorious chapters on the journey of strengthening the army. From the continuous emergence of new weapons and equipment, to the actual combat training on the PLA’s military training ground, from the responsibility of joint exercises and training between China and foreign countries, to the firm protection of sovereignty, Chinese soldiers have forged an indestructible Great Wall of Steel with their blood and loyalty.

Don’t call him. Apoligize to the mutual friends for them having to hear those things. Some of them will believe them. They are not your friends. Others probably know you better and sense what they are saying isn’t true. The rest are hanging onto every word weather they believe them or not, and are waiting for the fireworks to begin wanting to be entertained by the melt down they are waiting for. They are not your friends either.

Once you can tell your friends keep them close. Go no contact with your EX., and all of the rest.

You’ve a new life to build, a life without any of them in it.

I was working at the time for a Chinese American man who decades ago paid for his passage to America by working on a cruise ship. He got here with virtually just the clothes on his back, and through years of hard work, starting as a bus boy in a Chinatown restaurant, he worked long and hard and eventually became a very successful businessman in San Francisco.

This man, a few years ago, purchased at a charity auction the right to sing our national anthem at one of the San Francisco Giants home games. He spent weeks and weeks with a singing coach practicing. He asked me to come with him to the game to videotape him singing.

I should point out that my friend is a pretty good singer. But he does have a heavy accent.

The moment comes. He walks out onto the field. The band starts playing. He starts singing the Star Spangled Banner in his accented voice. Then in about the middle of the song the fact that he was standing there singing in front of nearly 70,000 people hit him and the delayed stage fright caused him to forget the words.

“Ow” I thought. “This might get ugly. How will this crowd react?”

But they didn’t get ugly. A few people in the crowd realized what was happening and picked up the song from where he lost it and began singing, and then more and more joined in. Soon it was my friend, with the entire crowd helping, singing the rest of our national anthem. To me that was one of the most American things that I have ever seen.

EDIT: Wow, 5.000+ upvotes. My thanks go out to everyone who has taken the time to read this and even more thanks to those who have upvoted it. I am so happy that this story has struck a chord with readers. Thank you!

Sky High Biscuits with Raspberry Butter

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d6d871c65803d823719e6ad5b5c93ff4

Yield: 15 servings

Ingredients

Raspberry Butter

  • 1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
  • 1/4 cup fresh or thawed frozen raspberries

Biscuits

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup whole wheat flour
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 4 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 3/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 cup butter or margarine
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 egg, beaten

 

 

Instructions

Raspberry Butter

  1. Combine the butter and raspberries in a blender or food processor. Process until smooth. Chill, covered, for several hours before serving.
  2. Heat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Biscuits

  1. Mix the all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, sugar, baking powder, cream of tartar and salt in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter until crumbly. Add the milk and egg, stirring just until moistened. Knead the dough lightly on a lightly floured surface. Pat 1 inch thick. Cut with a 2 inch biscuit cutter. Arrange the biscuits in a greased 9 x 9 inch baking pan.
  2. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes or until brown.
  3. Serve warm with the butter.

Notes

Bake the biscuits on a greased baking sheet for crusty biscuits.

Nutrition

Per Serving: Calories 247; Fat 17 g; Sodium 393 mg; Dietary Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Your wife puts you down to feel better about herself. Your wife doesn’t have feelings for you and doesn’t respect what you do for her. Your wife is never going to be satisfied with whatever you are going to do for her. Your wife wants you to put more effort into pleasing her.

Your marriage is not going to work with this kind of toxic mindset of your wife. Nothing is going to be enough for your wife. You have to talk openly to your wife that you are invaluable to tolerate her behavior. If your wife doesn’t change her behavior positively towards you, then you have to leave her. If you have children together, then coparenting should be done with the help of law.

It all depends upon how you handle this situation if your wife doesn’t improve. Your wife is toxic, and kindly think about your marriage future.

106. ​Hoe_Math – The Michael Sartain Podcast

Timebomb

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

Joshua G. J. Insole

General

Now

There were too many to fight. He was outnumbered ten thousand to one. He watched as they all raced towards him, vengeance in their eyes and murder on their lips. They came in a mob, clamouring for his blood, each wanting to say, “I helped kill him. I was part of it.”

He stood perfectly still, hands in his pockets, not flinching or recoiling in the slightest. His hand brushed against the thing in his pocket, and his fingers clutched at it; ready, waiting.

The throng thundered down on him, not knowing what was to come. He grinned. Even after it was over, they still wouldn’t understand. They’d trample the ground into dust, confusion written across their faces, unsatiated blood lust driving them mad.

He could do it now, of course. But where would the fun be in that? Where would the showmanship be? No, best to wait until the last possible moment. To delay the act until they were just about to get him, and then…

Of course, Dara wouldn’t have done such a thing. She would have completed the mission and then gotten out of there in the blink of an eye. Nothing more than a stirring breeze that lifts the curtains. Silent like a breath, swift like a falling raindrop. She probably wouldn’t have even used it (and would likely tell him off for utilizing it, calling it a “waste of precious resources”). Dara would have only employed it in an absolute emergency.

But Raiden wanted to use it. Why have it and not use it? It would be like being a millionaire, but not spending any money. Naturally, he didn’t need to use it, oh no. He was good at his job, and he knew it. If his actions had necessitated the use of the thing, he wouldn’t have come so highly recommended at all.

But, as it was, Raiden was at the top of his field.

Well, almost.

Then

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “No. No.”

“But, Dara, he’s the best—”

Excuse me?

“Well, second best—”

“Hang on, a second,” said Raiden.

“Look, I’m just saying—”

“I said, no,” said Dara, folding her arms across her chest. “Am I not the captain of this crew?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But?”

“Ah, maybe we oughta forget it,” said Raiden, turning to walk away.

Wait!” said Franky, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Please. Wait?”

Raiden nodded. “Sure. But don’t ever touch me like that again, you hear?”

“Don’t threaten my crew, you—” the word that came from her mouth made both of the men wince.

“Wait. Just… wait,” said Franky, standing in the middle of them, hands raised in case either one of them decided to go for the other. “Dara, he is very good. You know that.”

“I’m the best,” scoffed Raiden, folding his arms and rolling his eyes.

Franky ignored him. “He comes with a certain… reputation—”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” said Dara with a snort. She turned away with a childish glare.

“Look, guys, I know you don’t like each other, but—”

“Ya think?” Raiden and Dara said in unison, with the same sarcastic inflection. Looks of horror flashed across their faces when they realised, and they both turned away in disgust.

Look. Guys,” said Franky through gritted teeth. “I know you don’t like each other, but we don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice Franky, didn’t I teach you anything?” said Dara.

“Yeah, Franky…” mocked Raiden.

“Oh my God, you two are the absolute worst, do you know that?” Franky turned to his captain and pointed at her leg, which was currently in a cast and was resting on a raised cushion. “Do you honestly think you can pull off a mission with your leg like that?

“Can do it better than him,” she said, pointing to Raiden with her chin.

Really, Dara? Really?

She squinted at him, and her eyes shot daggers, but she said nothing.

“And you,” said Franky, turning to Raiden. “I know how broke you are. You think that debt collectors don’t talk? I know for a fact that there are three scumbag moneylenders out there that want your head on a platter!”

Raiden paled as the colour drained from his face. Dara started to laugh, but Franky shot her a glare that told her she shouldn’t. “You both need each other. And don’t you dare argue with me,” he said, looking from one to the other, goading them into saying something to the contrary. “And, perhaps most importantly, I need both of you. I can’t make ends meet if we can’t take any jobs, Dara… and he’s the best out there. We both know he is. Hell, he knows he is, the cocky sonofa—”

Hey!

“Sorry.”

“It’s true.”

An awkward silence fell upon the room. Slowly, Franky lowered his hands. “So, do we have an understanding?”

Dara and Raiden glared at each other, and then flicked their eyes back to Franky.

“Fine,” mumbled Dara.

“Fine,” said Raiden.

Great!” said Franky, more enthusiastically than he felt. “Well, done, guys. I really think that you’ve—”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s talk shop,” said Raiden, shushing him.

“Agreed. Let’s get on with it. Shut up, Franky.”

“I—” started Franky, looking from Dara to Raiden exasperatedly, but then he gave up and sighed, visibly deflating. “Oh, fine.”

“Okay, so, let’s go over the plan…” said Dara, clicking a button and bringing up the holographic map that hovered in the centre of the room.

Now

Raiden pulled the object out of his pocket with the flourish of a well-practiced magician. He saw the look of urgency in the eyes of those nearest to him as they sprinted towards his location. The gleam of fear that flashed across their faces told him that they knew he was about to pull something off, like a rabbit out of a hat… they just didn’t know what.

The natives of Raghajiv bent their heads low and really threw themselves into their sprint, hoping to catch the blasphemous thief.

Then

“They want what?” asked Raiden, astounded. “Are they crazy?

“Yes. Crazy rich,” said Dara. “What’s the matter, is it too big of a job for—” she adopted a mocking, babylike voice “—the great Raiden?”

“No, of course not! It’s just… this is gonna upset a lot of people, you do realise?”

Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why they’re hiring a crew to do it for them. If it was an easy task, they’d do it themselves, wouldn’t they? Besides, the added danger means they’re adding a few more zeroes to our paycheck, which is always appreciated.”

“How much are they paying?”

“That’s for me to know, Raiden. You’ll get your previously discussed share, as agreed. Now, let’s talk details…”

Now

Raiden rolled the glass orb in his palm precariously. The object was delicate and prone to shattering – it had been designed so. For when the outer shell cracked, it would spill its contents across the ground and into the atmosphere, creating the desired effect.

He watched the horde close in on him like a wildfire. The moment was drawing nearer. Almost there, he told himself. Almost… almost… Three, two, one and—

Raiden smashed the orb onto the floor at his feet.

Then

“Any idea why they want it?”

Dara shrugged. “None of my concern. As long as they pay up, they can smash it for all I care. Let ‘em chop it up and eat it. Let them deface it. I don’t care.”

“But, it’s a religious symbol,” said Raiden, treading carefully.

“Oh, what? What happened in those years that we stopped working together, Raiden? You didn’t suddenly see the light, did you? You haven’t gone all wacko on me, have you?”

“Hey, no. I’m not… a believer,” he said, taking care with the word. “But I wouldn’t talk about the followers like that. I mean, who knows? Right? I mean—”

“Do you want the job or not, man? You might be the best, but there’s a thousand others out there who are good enough who’d do the job without asking this many questions. Plenty of people need the cash.”

“Whoa, whoa, Dara. Of course, I want the job!”

“Then stop talking as if you don’t.”

Now

It felt as if all the air was suddenly sucked from the surface of the planet. Before the tinkling glass had even finished falling to the ground, a great aqua blue bubble had bloomed from the cracked container, blossoming outwards and encapsulating him. For a second it stayed there, hovering around him, crackling with electric life, psychedelic swirling patterns twirling into infinity across its surface… and then it erupted outwards, rocketing into the oncoming horde.

A subsonic BOOM rattled Raiden’s eardrums, and he felt all the hairs on his body standing on end as if with static. His lungs had the breath pulled from them, and he uttered a shocked little, “Oof!” Raiden felt like someone had gently hit him in the gut and winded him. A moment later, he was roaring with laughter.

The mob was still there – nobody harmed. But they were moving in slow motion towards him, their skins crackling with blue lightning. Somewhere in the crowd, someone was still shouting. “Geeeeeeeettttt hiiiiiiiimmmm!” The voice sounded incredibly deep and hilarious.

Giggling like a schoolchild, Raiden stepped out into the crowd, backpack heavy on his shoulders. The thing was right there within grabbing distance, and he could see the understanding in their eyes… but they couldn’t get it. He laughed again. This was brilliant! Raiden waltzed through the crowd, taking special attention to lock eyes with as many murderous gazes as he could. Every single one of them would murder him in an instant, if they had the chance. And here he was, right within their grasp, and they were, for all intents and purposes, statues.

Raiden pranced and danced around their slowly moving bodies. It was as if they were moving in zero gravity or trying to wade through a lake of custard. His laughter tinkled through the air like falling glass. This is fantastic, he thought. This is utterly fantastic!

Although he knew he should be making his hasty getaway, Raiden spent the next twenty minutes jumping and skipping through the pack of would-be assailants, laughing hysterically.

Then

“So, how will we deliver it? I assume people will be looking for it.”

“You assume correctly, Mr. Genius. We’re gonna have the handoff on Tartrak.”

“Tartrak? Dara, are you sure about this?”

“I know what I’m doing. And whilst I’m captain, you won’t question me. Just do your job, Raiden.”

“Well, okay…”

Now

The ship was waiting on the beach, rear ramp lowered onto the sand. Franky was waiting outside, leaning against the ship, arms crossed. He looked annoyed. “What took you?”

“Nothing,” said Raiden, stifling a giggle.

“Did something go wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. Went off without a hitch.”

Franky sized him up. “I hope you’re telling the truth. For your sake. Dara’s pissed. Did you get it?”

Raiden patted his heavy backpack. “Right here.”

Franky nodded, then scanned the horizon. “Nobody saw you?”

Raiden grinned. “Like I said. It went off without a hitch,” he said, avoiding the truth but not overtly lying. At least, not in his own eyes.

“All right. Climb in the back. We’re leaving Raghajiv right now. Heading to meet the buyers.”

“Is Dara…?”

Franky nodded. “Yep. Good luck.” And with that, Franky climbed into the cockpit and started the ship’s engines.

Then

“Geahek? Geahek? Dara, I—”

“Stop. I said to not question my authority.”

“I know, but, Geahek is a mean… whatever he is. And his gang? Dara, they’re wanted dead or alive on every major planet.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dara hissed. “But he’s paying big bucks. Don’t you get it? If we prove we can handle Geahek without wetting our pants, the rest of the clients will just fall into place. The infamy.”

“I—” started Raiden, but then he gave up. He shook his head and sighed.

There was little use in arguing with Dara. He’d learnt that many moons ago. Once she had an idea in her head…

Now

Dara hadn’t been as angry with him as he’d anticipated. She was just happy he had the idol. She held the thing in her hands and rotated it around, getting a proper look at it. “Over three thousand years old…” she said, in slight awe. “I mean, I know it’s got massive importance, but it is only made from bronze. It’s not like it’s gold or crystal or whatever.”

“Dara…” said Raiden, looking at her as if she had two heads. “This idol is one of the central pillars of the entire Raghajiv religion. You are holding something that people have killed for and died for. Something that people believe in, something people pray to. There are thousands of people out there that think that when they die, they meet—” he gestured towards the statue.

“Wow,” said Dara, mockingly. “That was quite a speech.” She jabbed the idol in his direction. “You should get into politics, y’know.”

Before Raiden could retort, the pilot interrupted them. “We’re here,” said Franky, from up front.

Through the windshield, they saw the icy wastes of Tartrak, the dead planet.

Then

“It’s not too late to turn the job down, you know,” he told her on the ride to Raghajiv. “You can still—”

“Turn Geahek down?

Raiden turned the thought over in his mind. “Nope. You’re right. That would get us killed. If you told Geahek you’d do it, we better do it, hm?”

Now

And now, here they were on their knees in the freezing snow, hands behind their heads, guns trained on them. Raiden wanted to say I told you so. No, probably shouldn’t, he thought. He looked out the corner of his eye and caught Dara’s attention. “Told you so,” he whispered smugly.

“Tiihuh,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“Hm?”

“Tiihuh,” she repeated, keeping her jaw clenched.

What?

“Hnh hn tiihuh.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, will you just say whatever it is you’re trying to say?”

“I said, throw the timebomb!

Raiden’s words caught in his throat.

“Throw it, Raiden!” shouted Dara, eyes urging. Around them, Geahek’s guards were shouting and bellowing orders.

“I, uh… I don’t have it.”

What?

“I don’t… I don’t have it. I might have, ah, used it back on Raghajiv.”

The guards were swarming around them now, a blur of black armour against the icy blueish whites of Tartrak’s wastelands.

“You what? You blithering idiot! You utter moron! You—”

And that was when one of Geahek’s guards struck him on the back of the head, and he blacked out.

Then

“I wonder what he wants it for,” pondered Raiden out loud. “Why chase down an ancient religious idol?”

“Who cares, as long as we get paid?” replied Dara, flippantly. “And don’t go off about the—” she did mock air-quotes “—significance of such an artefact. Let’s just do the work, get paid, and then go our separate ways. ‘Cause your face is already annoying me.”

“Your voice, too,” added Franky.

Dara nodded. “Yeah, and your voice.”

Now

“Lucky for you, we get to spend a lot more time together,” he said, smiling chirpily. “Silver linings, and all that, huh?”

“For God’s sake, Raiden, shut up.”

“Yeah, Raiden, shut it,” growled Franky.

From outside their cages came a tutting. Geahek stepped out from the shadows. “So much infighting, it’s a wonder you lot were able to pull of the heist at all,” he crooned, bouncing the idol in his hand.

“Why don’t you hurry up and kill us already?” snapped Dara. “Stop toying with us!” As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Raiden knew she hadn’t figured it out yet. There were the things on their legs, for a start…

“Kill you?” Geahek asked, frowning. “Why on earth would I kill you? You’re the best heist crew I’ve ever had!” he said with a boyish grin that bordered on the maniacal. “No, no. I’m not going to kill you, gosh no. In fact, what I propose is an… opportunity.”

“Oh, here we go,” mumbled Raiden, fiddling with the ankle monitor that was strapped to his leg. It flashed a red light, intermittently.

A look of unadulterated rage flashed across Geahek’s face, but he maintained composure. “I propose you continue working for me. And when I say ‘work’, I do not mean that you will be getting paid.” His eyes crawled over Raiden. “And please stop playing with that. It’s not a toy, and you won’t get it off.” Geahek’s voice dropped down a register: “Believe me.”

“What kinda work?” asked Dara.

“Well…” he said scrutinising the idol. “This wasn’t the only religious artefact I am after. And you weren’t the only crew I hired. The problem is that the others… they, ah, suffered casualties. In fact, you are the only crew that returned alive.”

“Oh…”

“I want you to go and retrieve the other artefacts.”

“Which others?” asked Raiden, an awful feeling rising in his chest.

“I think you know,” said Geahek with a wicked grin. “But here’s a hint for job number one: Quowiduw.” The exotic word rolled off his tongue perfectly.

Raiden closed his eyes and swore.

Dara looked confused. “What? What?

“I’ll leave you to… discuss the proposition,” said Geahek, ignoring her. “Of course, it’s either ‘yes’ or it’s death, you must realise. Any who…” he said, and then swaggered through the doors, whistling a jaunty tune.

“What did he say?” said Dara, turning in her narrow cage.

Raiden sighed. “Basically, we either get killed by his cronies… or, we get killed by religious nuts. Or by mother nature.” He looked from Franky to Dara, in the cramped confines of their prisons. “Guys… we’re going to Muxel.”

Franky and Dara swore simultaneously.

Yesterday, in fact.

Yesterday I turned 40 years old. Not a single damn person, including my friends and even my parents. Not one person, save for God the Father; wished me a Happy Birthday.

I do all the shopping and housekeeping for my parent’s, twice a week. Which means I leave my life, to go to their house and clean it for them. I do their grocery shopping too. My other siblings? Nowhere to be found, or even care. So, you’d think that I might matter to them. Right? You’d think a 40th birthday would be a big one.

I take care of church and help maintain their storehouse, and do all their shopping, bills, etc. I serve as a Worship Leader at my church. None of my team, none of my fellow church members, none of them wished me a happy birthday. These are people I see every week and who keep calendars on people’s birthdays.

No one threw me a party or sent me some money or remembered to say two simple words. No one, but God. That’s when I realized that I am far too kind and giving and generous for my own good and I need to set stronger and tighter boundaries. If ALL the people that I care about and value in my life, can completely forget about me on my 40th, what is considered a Milestone by most people. Not one person. It shows that I care more for them, then they do for me.

That cut me real deep. It really makes me question why I go out of my way to serve and help people, when no one even notices me. Pretty messed up. I sat in my truck with a chocolate cupcake and a Puppacino for my pooch and sang myself Happy Birthday with my dog howling next to me.

People suck. Especially the ones that you’re supposed to matter to.

EDIT 12/29/24 – Just in the last 2 days; I am amazed, humbled and completely taken aback by the level of outpouring love, support and belated birthday wishes, from complete strangers. The same love that I should have been given by the ones that matter most to me, instead I got it from the world; the one place I didn’t expect it. I’ve never written or done anything that went viral. I wrote this 2 days ago out of frustrating and venting and its had more attention and views than any other article I’ve written. And I write a lot. I just want to say to all the people that took the time to read this and sympathize with me and especially the ones who took the time to write a comment or a belated birthday wish. Thank you from the bottom of my 40 year old heart. I value this so much and it was so needed. Thank you, all of you!

My goodness that happened to me. He was the love of my life. I was devastated . It wasn’t an ex but someone he knew through his job. They were both studying for a state engineering licensing exam. At the library in the evenings. One night he wasn’t home by 9:15 as expected. I drove to the library. There they were , steamed up windows in his van. I was so upset. Not long after. I came home and the house felt weird. I opened his drawers, they were empty. I knew then he just left without being asked and without telling me. It was a kick in the gut. I loved him so much. Several weeks later, he knocked on my door with two bags of groceries. “I thought I’d come back home, I brought dinner. We sat and talked. I said “you want to come back? “. Yes, he said, I said “wait, I’ll be right back”. I went into my room and grabbed my wedding rings. I opened his had and placed the rings in his palm, then I held out my left hand. I said , when you put these rings on my finger, again, you are promising me that my heart will never be broken, you want our marriage forever, and you will never do what you did again, I love you , if you know in your heart that you love me and are committing to be with me , you will put them on my finger”, he reached out and took my hand, I looked at him. His eyes were down he turned my hand placed the ring in my palm, folded my fingers over them and said I’m sorry , I cannot make that promise. Then he got up and walked out the door. “Thank for the groceries” I said. I wasn’t surprised. At least he was honest this time! Two months later he came back to announce that he was going to Arizona where he grew up, with a girl he met who had a son. We spoke to each other several times over the years. He called me, I never called him. I was invited to his daughters wedding. Her and I were pretty close since I married her dad. He came alone, he sat with me and his daughters mother joined us later. He was the same charming man I always loved and knew I would love forever. He died after a major stroke a couple of years ago. I was devastated. I still love him with all my heart. I could have just said yes, come home, but I didn’t. He married three times after he left me and was divorced when he died. I made the right decision that day to bait him. My advice to you is to say no life cannot be happily lived backwards. It’s too late. Once they don’t love you and say so, they only come back because there is no one else. That’s not enough to rebuilt on. I’m sorry, I know how you feel. I feel your pain and understand your mixed feelings well.

There’s your answer. She put somebody else in her bed and put you on the couch. That means you need to walk away. Cause there is nothing there. I’m sorry to say and it might hurt. If there is a better future ahead of you, if there’s always a reason that something happens because when one door closes another, 1 will open

My neighbor’s daughter died young and her boyfriend would stop in to look after her elderly mother weekly for the rest of my neighbor’s life. It was very kind.

I moved into the neighborhood a couple years before she died, and she was a porch-sitter and I’m a talker, so I would come talk to her on the regular and lend a hand if she needed something. Nothing heroic, just a little neighboly hanging out.

She passed and he turned up that Christmas with a gift and said “hey thanks for being a great neighbor to her,” and I said, “oh that’s so sweet of you, I LOVE chocolate!” What I did not say, because I thought it would never matter, was, “that’s so sweet of you, but in fact I am viciously allergic to nuts of all sorts, so thanks but no thanks!”

It is now five years later, and a man whose name I do not know, never see, and does not live in the area, is still leaving expensive, nutty assortments of chocolate on my doorstep every year. My kiddo is gleeful and I am resigned. It’s far too late to fess up even if I were to catch him in the act, plus I will be moving next year. Best to just let him enjoy his seasonal gesture.

Andrew Tate Explains Why Men Should NEVER Get Married

You know nothing about your mother. Maybe she considered abortion but decided she couldn’t kill a baby, because a fetus is a baby. You sound depressed otherwise you would not consider that you were forced to come into this world. Your words indicate to me that your mother might have raised you without a father, would it have been better if you had a normal upbringing with both parents? But really you are angry and depressed and you want to blame it on your mom. The last thing you should tell her is that you hate her. If you want to tell someone how angry you are, tell it to God. He know all things anyway. He knows every thought before it comes to your mind. He knows every word before it comes to your tongue. Since He already knows, you should talk to Him instead of blaming your mom.

Caramel

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

Agnes Sharan

They say our instincts act in a split second.

 

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!” 

 

My head was ringing, my jaw clenched. It was a cold windy night, the alley not any kinder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. My body was fighting the cold, but the fear coursing through seemed to warm it enough to make my clenched fists sweat. I wanted to put my hand into my pocket but knew that won’t do me any good at this point.

 

“Arrrrthhhurrrr!”

 

I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eyes, grinning, his eyes lit up like he’s happy right where he is. He looked better than the last time I saw him, more alive. He didn’t look a day over how he looked then, brown eyes, caramel skinned, his clothes the same as that day. I suppose that’s just what happens when you go through something like that. It is what it is.

 

It was quiet, the stillness almost suffocating. I wanted to get it over with, but time seemed frozen just like the air around me. Some stragglers went past us, but other than the odd look now and then, they didn’t seem to suspect anything. So we waited, him and I, paused in that moment, feeling every breath leave my body, every whisper of wind through my hair, afraid to make any movement that might break this trance. But even as my eyes were wide open, I could see that day play out.

 

It was about a year ago.

 

“There has been a mistake. The officer will be punished suitably. We are truly sorry.”

 

He stood beside me, an officer hat in his hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Nor hers. I couldn’t imagine that this day will end like this. And the worst part is, it was all my fault. 

 

Why did this happen?

 

I don’t remember who, I just remember a voice asking those words. The sweat in my clenched fists almost felt like his blood on my hands.

 

“We can’t begin to say how sorry we are. We got a distress call from someone passing through that there seemed to be a suspicious individual in the neighbourhood. Our officers on call were closeby and responded to it and it just so happened that he fit the description.” 

 

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!” 

 

Have you heard a gunshot?

 

I have. I think its sharp, like a clap maybe? No, no, its dull, slipping past like a breeze. Honestly, you can’t really describe it. It is just a sound that rings around your head. It feels like it has a life of its own, and when it is through with you, all you are left with is wondering what ghosts it left behind.

 

I thought I’d never pick up something again that could make that sound. Never feel the cool metal beneath my fingertips.

 

“Noooo!!!”

 

Her voice rang in my head. It did ever since that day. The wailing of an inconsolable mother. A mother who lost her world in what to some was a split second instinct.

 

What could console her? Was there any punishment that would feel just in this world? Was there any in the universe? Her cries made me wonder every day.

 

A mandatory leave of absence sure doesn’t. Why else would I find myself here?

 

“What could you possibly have imagined a 10 year old capable of committing? Enough to warrant him a fatal wound?” The voice choked out the words. “He’s a child! H-He was …” 

 

The words just buzzed in my ears. My throat felt clogged, like I couldn’t speak despite desperately wanting to.

 

It continued. “I was just there. I had asked him to wait out on the lawn for me, for just a moment. To wait, on OUR LAWN!” Eyes squeezed shut, fingers pressed tightly to stop the tears. “Why would you think my boy standing on our lawn made him the first suspicious individual huh? A 10 YEAR OLD! He listened to his father and simply stood there, and he was killed at his own house! What world are you protecting us from if you are the ones going around killing us?!”

 

I could stay silent no more.

 

“Now listen here, mister, that is no way to talk to an officer…”

 

“Jerry, shut up. Sir, again, as we explained, he made a sudden turn which was why the officer had to act quickly. We can’t discriminate between criminals based on age …”

 

“But you can based on colour. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” 

 

Her voice rang out. 

 

The man looked like he wanted to speak out. He then looked at me in the eyes, hazy with the need to defend his comrade but he could see that in the depths of this day, nothing else could explain why it happened. Nothing else could say why an innocent boy with a brown eyed smile had to die. Nothing but the caramel of his skin. 

 

“We were just going to the park. My wife had gone ahead earlier to get the birthday picnic set up but she texted me about some things she forgot. I didn’t want him to see, that’s why I told him to wait out in the lawn. It would have barely been a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes.”

 

Hopelessness rimmed that voice. It crawled over my skin, making me want to throw up my insides.

 

“He turned around because he heard me close our door. He saw your guns and understood the danger it posed. He was scared and he looked for his father to protect him. Was that so wrong? In the end, though, it got him killed.”

 

It sounded like someone who had lost all purpose. Someone who just wanted to give up. But that was a year ago.

 

“You remember me, don’t you?”

 

This voice no longer belonged to the helpless father from a year ago. This was one that knew what its sole purpose in life is, and would do anything to get to it.

 

And it’s hands held clenched in the pocket of its coat the one tool that help it get to it.

 

I could see the recognition etched in his eyes, the face that came to me every night in my sleep, eyes that then seemed so hateful now filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. He was frozen, just like I, the midnight air speaking the words we couldn’t.

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget a face from that day.”

 

His voice, I wanted to say, sounded smug. But there was something off about it, like my appearance after disappearing for a year didn’t affect him at all. And that bothered me.

 

He continued. “I saw it in your eyes that day, you know.” He smiled. “I saw them burning with a desire for justice. And I remember it every time I dream of firing that shot.”

 

It almost seemed like he was goading me, as though he wanted me to act before even I myself desired it. My fingers tensed around the metal, wanting to pull it out yet not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

 

“Do you now? A murderer who remembers his victim, how ironic.” I sneered at him. It only seemed to make him grin wider. I didn’t have to imagine I heard smugness in his voice to get triggered by his smile.

 

My clenched fists felt colder now with the metal in them exposed to the air. He held his hands up in mockery.

 

“Dad?”

 

“Dad?”

 

“Shh, Arthur, the doctors will fix you right up, its okay.” I looked away, holding his hand tighter in mine. My other hand was holding pressure to his chest, but even the slightest shift felt like he life was slipping away right beneath my fingertips. 

 

“Daddy?” I couldn’t look at his eyes. He always had a light that in them I could look towards to make any day better. But today was different.

 

Because today, it was fading.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

I met his brown eyes, and in that moment, I wanted to scratch away my skin till it all but bled just to see if it makes his stop. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

 

He closed his eyes. “Sleepy, daddy …”

 

“Arthur”, I shook him, “Arthur?”

 

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!” 

 

The fear of God struck his eyes at that moment. He looked like he was about to turn, so I held the gun with both hands. “Don’t move!”

 

He froze, and it gave me a moment to see where the voice came from. He stood behind him, a boy of 7, maybe 8, and he was shivering. I’d like to say it was because of the cold but I but deep down, I didn’t have to guess the reason why. I looked away from him.

 

“Jim.” He spoke with his hands still held up. “Jim, what are you doing here?”

The boy’s eyes started to fill with tears. “M-mom told me to come l-look for you”, his voice choked.

 

“Go back to mommy, Jim, its going to be okay. Just go back to mommy.”

 

That’s when I turned the gun to the boy. All this time, he looked unbothered, but the fear in his eyes now looked exactly what I needed.

 

“Don’t!” he shouted, pleading in words he didn’t say. “He’s just a boy.”

 

I sneered. “So was mine! Now you’ll know how that feels!”

 

“Kill me.”

 

The words rang in my ears, but it didn’t make sense. Every day for the past year I dreamt of all the ways his face would look like pleading for his life, but none of those faces matched the man before me.

 

He smiled sadly. “You see him still, don’t you?”

 

“Daddy?”

 

Arthur stood beside the boy now, his caramel smile nowhere to be seen. Instead his eyes were fearful, just as they were that day.

 

“I do too. Every day. That’s why I resigned after the leave of absence. I kept remembering I chose to fire every time I picked up the gun. I knew you were looking into me, that one day you’d come for me. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of what I deserve.”

 

I felt as though my brain was finally putting together the pieces from tonight. Everything I found off about his demeanour, from his voice to him smile, it all made sense. For the look in his eyes that I couldn’t understand before, it was not smugness or fear. It was acceptance.

 

“Why should I believe you?”

 

He smiled, “I can’t tell you why.” His eyes turned, “Just let the boy go, I beg you. He doesn’t deserve it just as much as Arthur didn’t.”

 

I finally looked into the boy’s eyes. He was more human to me than anyone’s ever been in the last year, his light no different from my son’s. As I looked on, the ocean blue of his eyes changed color slowly. Now all that stared back was a brown eyed smile that slowly died every second my gun continued to point to it.

 

What am I doing?

 

You are no different from him.

 

My hands shook. But the man didn’t seem keen to use my moment of weakness to escape. He stood still, like a man who had nowhere else he wished to be.

 

“Go.”

 

The light in Arthur’s eyes were no longer dying. In fact, they seemed to start glowing. I put the gun back into my pocket.

 

“W-what?”

 

“GO! Before I change my mind!”

 

He kept his eyes on me while walking backwards, protecting the boy from my line of fire with his body. If only I could’ve done the same that day.

 

They were gone and I fell to the ground defeated. Where was the justice I sought? Why do I still feel like clawing my chest out? What could I do?

 

I screamed out into the night, until I could no more.

 

It was quiet now.

 

My hands hung limply by my side, my coat sifting softly in the breeze, brushing every now and then against my hand. My fingers were cold, the ground freezing. I put them into my pocket but there was no more room, so my fingers clenched around the gun. I don’t know how much time passed, only that I was down on the ground waiting for something to happen.

 

“Sleep, daddy …”

 

I heard my second gunshot. I still couldn’t say what it sounded like. But it was quiet now, and so I just closed my eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Dude, you’re 28 years old. You can’t blame your mom for your issues.

Get some therapy. get a job. Go to the gym. Have fun by joining some safe groups. Hang out with friends or make some.

don’t blame your issues on your mother birthing you, you are too old for this… grow up!

How was the Internet invented?

There were whispers of it in the Pentagon first—back in the 1960s—The military sought for a nuclear war survival communication system.

What they produced was much more than they had dreamed.

Started with ARPANET in 1969—They built it piece by piece—like a man laying bricks for a foundation he couldn’t yet see—The initial link went from UCLA to Stanford. Two computers—conversing over a phone line; But it marked the start of something massive.

The development of TCP/IP—the protocol destined to form the backbone of the internet, marked the actual breakthrough—Bob Kahn and Vint Cerf produced it in 1974. Consider it as if any computer—could converse in a universal language—Before that, different networks were like islands—cut off from one another—TCP/IP created connections between them.

NSFNET, a system linking supercomputer centers, first emerged in the 1980s—faster and more dependable than ARPANET—Schools began to plug in—then companies. Growing like a living entity—the network expanded first over the nation and then the planet.

The last piece arrived in 1989 when Tim Berners-Lew created the World-Wide-Web at CERN—He provided HTML, URLs, and HTTP—the tools that would make the internet from a playground for specialists into something everyone could use.

Early in the 1990s, the internet had moved from military and intellectual beginnings—It belonged to everyone now. Commercial suppliers began providing links to houses—The rest is history.

Valtrompia Bread

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9976eaff3b51b9c1f669bfb5eeb02964

Yield: 2 Valtrompia loaves

Ingredients

  • 1/3 cup very warm water
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 (1/4 ounce) package dry yeast
  • 1 cup milk
  • 2 tablespoons butter, melted
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons salt
  • 3 to 4 cups flour

 

 

Instructions

  1. In measuring cup, combine warm water, sugar, and yeast. Let stand 5 minutes stirring occasionally until mixture is foamy.
  2. In large bowl, combine milk, butter, and salt. Add yeast mixture to bowl and stir to combine. Add 2 1/2 cups flour and stir. Stir in as much of remaining flour as necessary to form soft dough. Turn onto lightly floured board and knead for 7 minutes. Shape dough into smooth ball. Put into greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover with plastic wrap. Place bowl in warm, draft-free place to rise until double in bulk.
  3. Punch dough down. Divide dough in half, roll into log 3 to 4 inches shorter than the Valtrompia Bread Tube, and insert in tube.
  4. Cap and bake in a preheated 400 degree F oven for 60 to 70 minutes.
  5. Remove from tube to cool.

If your husband wants to cheat, then you can’t stop your husband from cheating. Your husband will find different ways to cheat. It all depends upon the core personality of your husband. If your husband is an emotionally unavailable, emotionally damaged man, or has high traits of narcissism, then he is more likely to cheat. Cheating is a choice and a conscious act. You can’t do anything here if your husband wants to cheat.

Only man can stop himself from cheating. If your husband is healthy and loves you, then no matter what happens, he is never going to cheat in any circumstances. If your husband loves you, cheating on you will never cross his mind. Cheaters will have 100s of reasons to cheat, and a loyal person only needs one reason to be faithful: that is love.

Absolutely not, it is not unreasonable to get upset. Many things can happen riding solo at that hour. My man would NEVER let me out alone at that time of the night. Shoot he wouldn’t even let me check the mail across the street in the dark. She must not respect the fact that you care about her and a healthy future for her.

Yes, be upset. It’s disrespectful and disregarding your marriage vows. The offer is with bad intentions. To do that any time of day and just her is an affair waiting to happen

Talk to your wife and ask how she would feel if a woman invited you only to go over by her at that time wearing only a Speedo??

Do you want to hear the truth or do you want to hear lies.

The truth is, for the United States, if it does not want to give up its financial hegemony and the US dollar as the world currency, then financial capital absolutely does not want manufacturing to return to the United States.

Because this will reduce their voice in government decision-making, and even serve the manufacturing industry, instead of being able to quickly obtain massive amounts of funds by constantly speculating on some “high-tech” concept products in the stock market. It turned into a real-life Ponzi scheme.

After carefully looking at the U.S. dollar, U.S. bonds, and U.S. technology stocks, I

I realized that the current financial system of the United States is based on the credit endorsement of the United States as a sovereign country.

But it is obvious that as the U.S. debt approaches 37 trillion, the U.S. national credit system is about to go bankrupt.

For the United States, the reshoring of manufacturing promoted by Trump and Musk is like a self-rescue act of a terminally ill person.

But to realize this premise, the financial industry, service industry, etc. all need to serve the manufacturing industry.

Instead, I hype a high-tech concept, which is actually a laboratory product, and then I can obtain a large amount of financing in the stock market. Then a few years later, the company goes bankrupt and closes down. But the money has fallen into the hands of a few.

Isn’t this just pure money fraud?

Then, the United States needs to restart vocational education. Simply put, it means that a large number of Americans should give up their choices in law, finance, services, computers, and liberal arts, and devote themselves to science and engineering and technical training.

This process will take at least 10 years to cultivate a generation of qualified industrial workers and engineers.

Otherwise, it is just a dream to bring back the manufacturing industry.

Because the current illiteracy rate in the United States is too high, workers seriously lack high-end technical training.

In fact, I personally suggest that it is better for the United States to start major infrastructure construction again from now on, which can at least solve a large number of employment problems.

Short Answer: Intel’s main competition was AMD and for a while AMD wasn’t in the race so intel got distracted. After a while Intel decided to comeback with 2nm chip and it proved disaster because of many reasons, some of which are listed in the long answer.

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main qimg 69e0df05f4350bfdf01e0012dbed5776

Long Answer: Intel’s $50 billion investment to lead in 2nm chip production has turned into a tale of misaligned priorities. The company focused on building cutting-edge facilities for foundaries to compete with TSMC and Samsung before resolving its existing 7nm and 10nm chip struggles, resulting in a reduced credibility in the market.

Why did only Intel had a fall while not other competitors like AMD?

AMD focused on outsourcing its chip production to TSMC, allowing it to prioritize design while leveraging TSMC’s advanced manufacturing processes.

TSMC invested steadily in cutting-edge production facilities like 7nm and 5nm, delivering consistent results and attracting customers like Apple, AMD, and Nvidia.

These companies focused on their own expertise and existing products, unlike Intel and that is the only reason for their success.

Andrew Tate Explains Why Men Should NEVER Get Married

The Beatles arrive in New York City

Badly lit alleys in Khlong Toei Slums? Nope! Red-light, Pattaya Soi 6 ? Nope!—- Low cost National Housing Estate in Din Daeng dubbed -slums in the air?—-Nope! Walking Street at Bangla, Phuket? Nope!

Some of those places are hidden gem for tourists and many are popular, though it’s seemed unsafe but they’re almost 100% safe if you aren’t a troublemaker yourself.

So, where, then, isn’t safe to go alone as a tourist?

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main qimg 451c97c84589dbea5451453c33e19ad5
 

Well, nothing is wrong with going to the police station in Thailand, it’s just like going to a renowned lion den alone.

Even if you are one hell of a ‘Rambo’ you are no match with those guys in Brown in the above places.

Are you kidding me? What is wrong with going to make a police report I’m a victim, I did no wrong against the Thai law.?— Did you? And are you sure about that?

I know you will come up with that. ‘ You said you were attacked by 5 Thai security guards, you acted in self-defense, right?’

“You will be slapped with a few charges like ‘destroy public property’ ( section 360) by pulling the pipes from roadside rail to beat all 5 Thai guys up. Another charge is ‘using foul language like ‘ f-word’ to insult their mother’s ( Libel sec. 326’) plus’ Third; Walk out of the bar without paying the bills.(Fraud base:345)

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main qimg 494730d50f4a04d9740abe0949928063
 

From all the 3 charges, you will get compound fines 20,000 Baht or jailed, or both. Meanwhile, locked up until you get a bailout, could also be deported if convicted…What? sigh!

The 5 guys? They, too, were fined.—500B each on ‘assault’ (section 295) with 1 year suspended sentence, doing community works for 6 weeks.

Now you know, going to the Police station ‘alone’ as a tourist is a suicidal— Bring a Thai lawyer with you, he or she knows what to do.

This statement occurred in mid-December 2024.

Beef Chimichangas

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8e65bfa35177813da62d926bbc128712

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) roast
  • 2 firm tomatoes, chopped
  • 3 to 4 scallions, chopped
  • Garlic
  • Salt and pepper
  • Comino (cumin)

Instructions

  1. Cook the beef in a slow cooker for 6 to 8 hours with the seasonings.
  2. Cool and shred beef.
  3. Cook tomatoes and scallions and add to beef.
  4. Place meat mixture on flour tortillas and roll up. Drop into hot oil until golden brown. Drain.
  5. Top with green chiles, sour cream, guacamole, salsa and shredded cheese.
  6. Serve on a bed of shredded lettuce.

A Place in the Sun

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

 

John Rennie

 
The metallic surface of the Cleveland Company logo glimmered faintly as the space station became slowly bathed in the dim glow of moonlight. Eileen sat in the control room chair looking straight ahead, not distracted by the sight of Umbriel passing the window; she’d seen it a thousand times. Her eyes were fixated by the 50-inch rectangle of light above her head. “He never takes me anywhere” she sighed. Prodding the remote control repeatedly at three second intervals, she continued browsing images of the inner Solar System – far off places, close to the Sun, but she knew it was hopeless. Ted hadn’t agreed to leave the space station since their honeymoon in 2159, and no matter how many light-years she spent dreaming of one last planet getaway, it came no closer to reality. Ted was just not interested; he had his mind of other things.At the opposite end of the space station, the sound of clinking and clunking would be absolutely maddening if there had been anyone else around to hear it. The only person there was Ted whose hearing had started to go a long time ago. Pieces of twisted metal and dusty electronic chips were strewn around the floor of the station’s West Wing. A screw with a worn down thread went scuttling across the metal table skimming its surface like a stone across a lake. Eventually dropping to the floor and finding its resting place through a tiny air vent under a cabinet. “Blast!” Ted exclaimed staring into his empty hands. He looked up at the calendar above the workstation and his chest started to tighten.It was November 4th 2212. The arrival of J-Boy, their beloved grandson, was imminent. The young explorer was about to make his annual call. Visitors were rare these days. So rare that they hadn’t had a visitor for 10 years, except J-Boy of course. His visits were guaranteed like Earth’s orbit around the Sun. He could arrive at any moment and yet the satellite was still not fixed. Ted just needed to re-attach a panel to cover the inner circuitry and the dish would be ready for installation. He reached into the screw box and grasped at the fresh air inside. He picked up his magnifying glass to see that the box was in fact empty. Ted slumped back into his chair, realising he would have to go to the East Wing to get a new one. That meant bumping into Eileen. He wasn’t ready to face her, especially as he hadn’t finished the job yet, but he couldn’t stay away any longer. Ted hoped she’d forgotten about the promise he made last month. It was unlikely though.Eileen peered through the small round window in the door of the East Wing. The faint sound of footsteps had interrupted her mid-afternoon daydream of exotic star trails and asteroid showers. She watched as a frail masculine figure emerged from the long dark corridor that connected the wings of the space station. As he got closer, the light from the East Wing window cast a spotlight, revealing the silhouette. There was no doubt who it was, it couldn’t have been anyone else. He was holding a shiny box.”A gift?” she wondered.“Oh, Ted …after all this time, finally he has something to offer, something to show he still cares after all these years.”Eileen excitedly pressed the big red button causing the door to slide out of view. With a childlike grin, Eileen opened her arms.

“For me? Ted, you shouldn’t have.”

Before Ted could speak Eileen reached forward, snatched the shiny box from his hands and ripped off the lid. Eileen’s cheeks were suddenly yanked down by invisible draw strings when she saw the box was empty.

“You’re a mean bloody sod, you know that? Bringing me a shiny thing, getting me all excited then smashing my dreams to pieces with a box of empty promises.”

Ted peeled back his lips to reveal his crooked gnashers.

“Give over, would ya? Screws! I need bloody screws…for the satellite.”

“Screws? I’ll give you screws! I’ll bloody screw you!” she said, waving her fist and reluctantly stepping aside to let him through the doorway.

“Chance would be a fine thing!” he chuckled.

“Wash your bloody gob out, you. J-Boy will be here tomorrow and I don’t wanna hear you opening your potty mouth in front of the lad.”

Ted carried on shuffling toward the storage hatch without saying a word.

“Anyhow, haven’t you got enough screws from all that bloomin’ junk you spend all your life scavenging from outside?”

“I keep droppin’ ’em. My hands aren’t what they once were.”

“Nowt’s what it once was. Remember when you took me to see the rings of Saturn? In the pod, just you, me and a nice bottle ginger wine, billions of stars and endless possibilities.

Now look at us. Cooped up in either ends of this station like a prison, but worse. No bloody excitement here! Just the same old orbit in the darkest, dullest end of the Solar System. We’ve been dwelling about this Uranus moon for all eternity. Saturn was a previous life…”.

Eileen continued ranting and reminiscing, but all Ted could hear was the sound of boxes crashing together as he rummaged around. He picked up a silver box and and grinned.

“I’ve told ya before, there’s a lot of good discarded satellite material on this orbit. These young uns dump it and bugger off t’ Jupiter on a jolly. Perfectly good stuff, it is.”

“You know why they dump it ‘ere, Ted? Cos there’s nowt ‘ere. Nowt but bloody junk and darkness, and that miserable moon locking us into the most awful orbit anywhere in the Universe. Round and round and round and round. I’ll tell ye Ted, if I have to…”

A sudden blast of white noise flooded the control room.

“Come in, Cleveland Company station X14, this is Cleveland Craft 0187, permission to engage”

Ted and Eileen looked at each other and froze.

“J-Boy?”

“You daft apeth, Ted! He’s already here! You’ve wasted all your time meddling with that bloody monstrosity… Oh dear! Oh dear, oh dear.”

“Put the kettle on. I’ll get the satellite.” Ted hurriedly made for the West Wing.

 

J-Boy felt a warm tingle in his stomach as his spacecraft neared the docking hatch of the space station. Of all the places passed Jupiter, his grandparents space station was the place he looked forward to visiting the most. A loud mechanical bang followed by a gentle hissing sound indicated that his craft and the station were locked together. When the gravity light turned green, he released the door.

“Here he is. Where’ve you been, stranger? Come ‘ere!”

J-Boy was smothered by Eileen’s warm embrace. It was here he always received the warmest welcome of anywhere in the Universe. Clevelands X14 always felt like home.

“I’m great”, J-Boy managed to say amidst the big welcome squeeze.

Over Eileen’s shoulder, he could see Ted holding a large metal dish which was covered in wires and electrician’s tape.

“I got a present for ya, lad. Here you are. What d’ya think?”

Ted handed the gift to J-Boy.

“Ooohh, thanks, Ted. Eh…wha…what is it?”

“It’s a satellite, of course. A retro type but it works a treat. You can pick up all sorts on this: Earth war documentaries, alien life programmes, sports from other galaxies…”

“Aw, sounds great. Thanks, Ted”. J-Boy said smiling warmly.

“Put that junk away, Ted”, Eileen intervened.

“What does he want that old thing for? Pay no attention to him.” Eileen said, gently nudging J-Boy down the central corridor towards the East Wing where a fresh pot of tea was brewing.

 

The control room was a spacious, octagon-shaped area. From the entrance, various doors and hatches could be seen around the back and sides of the room. Directly ahead was a window spreading across the entirety of the front wall, displaying the darkness of space. In front were two swivel chairs facing hundreds of dials, switches and buttons that controlled the station. Above the controls was a single 50-inch screen displaying images of a much younger looking Ted and Eileen by the window of a capsule pod, peering out at different coloured planets. Like everything in this space station, it looked like it was made at the start of the millennium. It was all fairly dated, but J-Boy liked the homely feel of it. He sat in one of the chairs with Ted and Eileen sitting directly across from him, awkwardly jammed into the opposite chair which was clearly designed for one. Between the chairs was a small table, on it a metallic teapot along with three steaming mugs.

J-Boy began recounting tales of distant galaxies and far off parts of the Universe that Eileen could only dream of visiting. Eileen had been to many places when she was younger, but nowhere as far and exotic. “ How do you communicate with people outside of the Solar System?; Isn’t is dangerous crossing the Kuiper belt?; What’s the food like on Earth?”

She could listen for hours, asking questions and imagining what could’ve been.

“I can show you some snaps if you like?” J-Boy said looking for something in his bag.

“Aye, go on then, I’ll hook ‘em up to the big screen.”

“It’s OK, Ted. I don’t use screens anymore. I’ve got holograms now.” J-Boy held up a small black cube no bigger than a matchbox.

“Holograms? Bloody marvellous! Nowt like this in our day. Us oldies can’t keep up anymore”.

The elderly couple looked like children again as they sat with their mouths and eyes wide open, staring at the hologram projection in awe. They gasped as J-Boy waved his hand in the air to call upon hundreds of spectacular images of planets they’d never heard of and galaxies they didn’t even know existed. Eileen was completely engrossed. The more pictures she saw, the more questions she asked.

Ted wasn’t quite the conversationalist that Eileen was. He would just nod and chuckle upon hearing the wondrous tales. Occasionally chipping in with “Bloody marvellous”. He enjoyed listening, but was always happier when he was busy doing something. Without saying a word, he got up from the chair and pottered over to the control room kitchen in the corner.

“What would ya fancy to eat J-Boy?”, Ted called over his shoulder.

“Oh, nothing thanks, Ted. I ate on the cruise control around gravitational pull.”

“How about some cherry tomatoes?”,

“No, I’m OK, thanks.”

“Grown with martian soil in our space garden”

“I’m good thanks, Ted.”

“Lovely and sweet they are”

“No, I don’t really like…”

“I’ll go get them now.”

“But…”

“Eileen!  What’s the key code for the space garden? J-Boy wants some cherry tomatoes, he’s starving!

“Eh? No…I’m fi…”

Eileen frowned and looked up from the projection looking deeply concerned.

“Oh poor lad! What are we like, eh? Here I am gabbing away and you’re starving to death. I’ll get ’em J-Boy. Hold on to your rockets, kidda.”

“Don’t be daft. He wants me to get them.”

“Not with your grubby hands. You’ve had them all over that dirty dish and God knows where else.” Eileen gently elbowed Ted’s forearm away from the keypad and prodded the numbers on the glass, saying them aloud as she did. “3 1 7 5 2”.

 

Eileen entered the space garden and quickly picked up a bucket full of cherry tomatoes that had been freshly picked a few hours earlier. The bucket was overflowing. Eileen groaned and stumbled, but regained her footing and waved Ted out of her path.

“Give it ‘ere”, Ted demanded.

“Don’t be daft. I’ll take it”

“No you won’t”

J-Boy rushed into the garden behind Ted and Eileen.

“I’m alright. Really! I’m not hungry.”

Despite J-Boy’s pleas, Ted and Eileen continued to struggle. Both had one hand on the bucket handle, fiercely insisting they should be the one to offer the tomatoes to their indifferent guest.

Eileen grabbed the handle with her free hand. Now with a two-hand grip, she pulled the bucket towards her, causing both bodies to lurch further into the garden. With one emphatic tug, she pulled the bucket free from Ted’s withering hand. The force of her pull was so great, she let go. The bucket looped over her head for what seemed like an eternity before it landed in the sink behind.

Like a set of lottery balls, the tomatoes bounced around before being rapidly sucked down the sink hole. The sink was in fact a funnel attached to a waste pipe. The three of them stood silently with their mouths open as, through the window, they watched hundreds of cherry tomatoes implode and explode in the vacuum of space. The Cleveland Company logo turned red as tomato juice plastered to the side of the station.

 

Of course, Ted and Eileen blamed one another for the tomato incident. From where J-Boy was standing, they were both at fault, but it was Ted who agreed to go outside the station clean up the juice. Meanwhile, not to be seen making less effort than Ted, Eileen insisted on inspecting J-Boy’s craft to check it was safe and sufficiently re-fuelled for the onward journey. Guests always left Cleveland X14 with a full tank.

J-Boy watched on from the control room window as two spacesuits attached to the station by an umbilical cable floated out into the alien atmosphere. Eileen could be seen inserting a fuel rod into the J-Boy’s craft which was docked on the right of the window, and Ted could be seen on the left rigorously wiping.

Without warning, a cigar shaped object collided with the door of J-Boy’s craft, but left no mark.

“Bloody space junk! What nuisance!”, Eileen muttered into her radio which J-Boy could hear in the control room.

Suddenly a cluster of antennas, tubes, rocket motor shells followed, relentlessly pelting the space station. A solar panel spinning like coin cut through Eileen’s umbilical cable sending her suited body into a spin.

“Teeeeed!”

Ted could see Eileen was untethered and drifting. Without any hesitation, he leapt from the safety of the station into the infinite space. Their spacesuits collided. Ted’s umbilical cable pulled taut as it wrenched the spacesuits back. The relief of catching his wife was short lived when he realised they only had a few minutes before Eileen’s suit’s backup oxygen supply would run out.

The silent onslaught of satellite debris continued to shower down near the entrance; it was too dangerous to go back in just yet. Holding Eileen in one hand, Ted used his free hand to pull his umbilical cable causing them both to float in the direction of the capsule pod.

“Quick, get inside.”

In the pod, Eileen removed her helmet and immediately drew in one huge breath.

“Bloody space junk” she exhaled.

In the safety of the pod with oxygen and protection from the junk cloud outside, Eileen and Ted watched as J-Boy’s craft took a battering. The space station was a giant. It could withstand a severe assault from any decommissioned satellite cluster, but J-Boy’s craft was tiny and in danger of catastrophic damage.

“We have to do something” Ted said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t used the pod since he was courting Eileen in another lifetime.

“Where’s the wha’d’ya me call it?”

“The what?”

“The wha’d’ya me call it”

“The wha’d’ya me what? The ignition?”

“That’s it!”

“There! Bloody ‘ell, Ted – it’s not rocket science.”

“I think it bloody well is!”

Ted flipped a switch and the wall of controls sprung to life.

“Ere we go!”

The propulsion rockets launched the capsule pod up and away from the under fire space station. Ted hauled a lever to change the direction of the rocket boosters. A blast of flames spluttered from under the pod, propelling it in front of J-Boy’s craft and into the path of the debris.

 

 

“Come in Cleveland ex, one, four. This is Cleveland CapPod.

“Ted, Eileen, What happened? Are you alright?”

“J-Boy, d’you hear me, lad?”

“Yes, Ted.”

“Listen, we took a hit from some bloody debris. The door’s knackered and so is Eileen’s suit. We’re not going to be able to connect to the docking hatch.”

“I can come out and help!”

Eileen abruptly leaned into the radio

“No, you won’t, you stay right there. It’s too dangerous.”

“But…”

Ted held Eileen’s hand and a sudden calmness came over both of them.

“We’ve had our time. A great life! We’re gonna get out of this dark end of the Solar System as far as this little pod will take us. We’re going to find a place in the Sun. I made a promise”

J-Boy eyes filled with tears. He was devastated but somehow, he understood. He always knew this time would come.

“Ol’ Cleveland X14 is all yours, lad. Take her anywhere you want. She a bit dated but she’s a good one. A bit like, Eileen”

“Oi!”

Ted chuckled.

Eileen fought the tears, “I’ll miss you, J-Boy. We love you.”

 

The pod lifted up over the space station and accelerated out in the opposite direction of the Umbriel moon for the first time that century.

J-boy sobbed into his left forearm resting on the space station control panel. His eyes were red and sore. He lifted up his head and with his right hand, reached out to switch off the radio. His hand stopped and hovered over the button.

“It’s this way. I’m sure of it.”

“We should’ve left this orbit half an hour ago, where are we going? You daft apeth, Ted. You’ve got the map upside down!

J-Boy smiled and laughed through the tears. He knew everything was going to be just fine.

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Through a Great Distance

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

 

Matthew Klingforth

Through a Great Distance

“Andrew, God, I can actually hear your sulking,” Becky said across the hull to the large man sitting with his head hanging and his back facing her. “It’s like I have the endangered, sniveling vagina bug crawling in my ear, right now.”

“I am not sulking!” Andrew informed her angrily as he lifted his head and stared ferociously at the corner. “As a matter of fact, I was just now having a soliloquyial discussion on the selfish disregard of ingratitude and how Princesses only crap on other people’s property!” He screamed at her from his walled in position and Becky rolled her eyes in return.

“Look, man, the alfredo sauce was too salty, I don’t know what to tell yah,” she replied with a guiltless shrug. “Maybe, next time, I don’t know, don’t add the entire salt lick to the pot.”

“That is a reward winning recipe!” Andrew bellowed and turned his purpling face towards her. “And I’ll let you know that having all of the culinary delicacy of a frozen lake, does not excuse, nor forgive, straight rudeness.”

“Whatever,” Becky grumbled and returned her attention to the blinking lights of the ship’s internal computer.

“Fine,” Andrew agreed to her resolution and sent out a cold silence across the room.

“I don’t think that, “soliloquyial,” is even really a word.” Becky poked and to her delight, the bear stood-up and stomped out into the hallway.

“There are rules of engagement!” Andrew roared and jabbed his pudgy finger into the chest of no one as he clomped down the hallway. “Once an argument is clearly at the point of appropriate silence,” he said while gesturing wildly with his hands. “I mean, that’s it, you just shut-up. But no, not her, she always has to get that last little…” He paused, too angry to finish the sentence and, instead, bit down hard onto his knuckle. “I want my GD dog back!” he finally screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Becky! Becky!” Andrew yelled desperately as the terrified animal clawed free and leapt from his grasping arms. “No, no, bad dog!” he scolded the Pomeranian, but another crack of lightning from the newest freak storm put her tail between her legs and sent her scampering into the throngs of the many on-lookers and partiers across the barricade.

“Japan…swallowed…unprecedented tsunamis,” Andrew heard the radio from the nearest booze and food tent scream in between its static and he helplessly turned and looked at his escape vessel.

“Becky?” He whimpered with his whole body moving in feeble motions and the tears choking out his breathing. For the briefest of moments, he considered leaving without his precious Becky, but then he remembered all of the hard work and strings that he had to pull to gain passage to the new world and procure his own personal carriage. Failure was not an option.

“You sir!” Andrew pointed and yelled with newly found determination as he marched across his lot towards the security at the gate. “I will have a moment with you,” he said and pushed his impressive mass in between a small helmeted guard and the rest of the world. “Do you know who I am?” Andrew more demanded than asked.

“Yes sir, mister Chizka, sir,” the guard said with what he thought was machismo. “I am assigned to your post, sir, I’m, I’m your takeoff guy” he added lamely and immediately regretted it.

“Good,” Andrew replied with zero satisfaction as he assumed his own notoriety. “Then you know that I am never, EVER, without my Becky!” he blustered as the guard tried to catalogue every piece of information that he had on the man and a wife Becky seemed to ring a bell.

“Yes sir, mister Chizka, that is well known,” he decided to answer in the positive.

“Well?” Andrew asked as he looked around himself incredulously. “Do you see my Becky with me?”

“Oh, oh, no sir,” the former shoe salesman caught the drift and put his two weeks of military training into action. “Where was the last place you seen her, sir?”

“She ran off into that damnable ruffian tent,” Andrew answered with distaste. “She is very likely right at the entrance, trust me, she won’t wander far from a constant source of sausage.”

As the guard struggled with a reply, he was spared by the sudden upheaval of the earth’s crust, causing all to stumble and cheers to erupt from the tent dwellers.

“Listen,” Andrew said in a sudden rush, trying to quickly compensate for the earthquakes two-day early arrival. “What’s your name son?” he asked the guard.

“Thomas Jensen,” Thomas Jensen answered astutely.

“And now, Thomas,” Andrew said in his straight business voice. “I can assume that you’re not one of these tent cretins, right? That you plan on leaving this degenerate planet and make a fresh start on the new world? Yes?”

“Yes sir, mister Chizka, our craft leaves tonight.”

“Good Thomas, I’m relieved to hear that,” Andrew said while putting his meat hooks onto the guard’s slender shoulders and drawing paternal serenity onto his face. “Thomas, I need someone to march into that Hell pit and get me my Becky,” he said while pointing at the tent. “And whoever that person is, well, let’s just say that they will be very well rewarded in the new world,” he stated and then paused for dramatic affect. “Do you think that you could be that person, mister Jensen?”

“Yes sir! Absolutely sir!” Ole’ Thomas was pretty sure of himself.

“Excellent!” Andrew applauded. “Bring her to my sleeping quarters, get us off this God forsaken planet and I assure you that the goose will be splendid.”

Andrew stared out the bedroom window as the world deteriorated around him. “Where are you?” he whispered harshly and took his third pill in less than ten minutes. “I do not feel calm!” he screamed at the window and shook the pill bottle angrily. “Stupid—useless…,” he mumbled softly as his chin dropped down into his chest and time slowed down around him.

“Who the Hell is this?” the drunken slur of a tiny, blonde woman and the sound of a locking door caused Andrew’s eyes to flutter open.

“Becky,” he pleaded unconsciously as the engines started to rumble and the planet Earth began its long series of chain explosions.

“I want my GD dog back!” Becky heard Andrew yell from across the ship and she immediately felt a twinge of regret for that last jab.

“Ah, the big lug,” she said as she drew her legs up onto the chair to hug her knees, thinking about their first conversation.

The world, she believed, was gone. The navigational system, fried on take-off. We could be the last two human beings alive in the Universe and dude couldn’t stop blubbering about his stupid dog.

“Cute little shit,” she said with a sigh and grabbed her rubber ball to squeeze.

The mix-up, she supposed, was favorable to her. She should be dead and at one point and time, it was all that she had expected, wanted, maybe. She was in a weird place at the time. Still though and in retrospect, she made out pretty good. The vessel was equipped to accommodate and feed eight people for no less than ten years. There were like a zillion different movies and video games to play and the regurgitating ventilation system provided a lifetime of low-quality, but breathable air.

The dog, she felt, would have been very happy here.

Words can’t really describe the awkwardness of getting to know the last remaining member of your species. The last real face that you would see in your entire lifetime. Uncomfortable, she guessed. Discomfited? But, after a long mourning and bonding period, it took them all of fifteen seconds to realize that they were trapped in space with a complete and utter moron. He was a proclaimed dog person and she held firm that Becky was really more of a cat. He was a staunch Republican and she didn’t really care what you called a crook. How was it possible that she got stuck with the one person who could witness the explosion of their planet and still continue to deny global warming?

It was the absolute worst possible case scenario for the both of them.

Becky smiled and gave the ball two quick compressions.

“No, no, you’re doing that all wrong,” Andrew said as he watched her gaming in the family center and grabbed the controller out of her hands.

“Oh, really?” she asked, a little shocked at his playfulness, as they had been on a, as needed, communication schedule for the previous three months. “You know how to play Super Mario Brothers?”

“Oh yeah, my brothers and I ate up the classics,” Andrew answered as he deftly moved the courageous plumber across the screen. “I saw Zelda in the game catalogue,” he said while pausing and smiling over at her. “Have you ever played it?” he asked with a school boy innocence that would eventually charm his way into both her pants and their first marriage.

Andrew had considered all four of their marriages as a silly waste of time, but, Becky, although far removed from her deflowering, was a traditionalist. Not so much the religious stuff, but a commitment was needed if you wanted the long-term, personal attention sex. She was, after all, a lady.

Initially they had the children conversation, you know, the old, save the homo sapien rally, but ultimately decided against it. Their little family, alone in the middle of outer space, trying to maintain the human race was, well, just gross, once you ran the numbers and, besides, neither one of the them were exactly, kid people, anyhow. So, they kept rugrats out of their tumultuous and mostly predictable cycle. Right now, as far as Becky saw it, they were within four months to their next marriage. This was clearly a make-up fight. Right now, he’s standing in the master bedroom, staring out the window, waiting for me to come and apologize.

“And apologize I will,” she thought happily as she stood-up and bounced the ball off of the floor and back into her hand. The truth was that over the last six years, she had really grown to love the big ape and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her. Only love can make a person as crazy as she made him.

Besides, she had put a lot of effort into making him a suitable partner, the, sometimes, aggressive tips and hints on how to be a better lover, alone, claimed her ownership. She wasn’t about to give up her man and her apologizing for hurting his delicate nature had also become part of their cycle.

“Hey Andrew,” she yelled as she bounced her ball down the hall towards the bedroom. “About the alfredo sauce, you know that I was just being a bitch, right?” She asked, taking the low road and hoping for a quick make-up.

“Becky, get in here,” Andrew yelled back at her in a dazed and far away voice and Becky quickened her pace.

“Holy…” she stood frozen in the entryway, staring through the window at the last thing that she ever thought that she would see again. “Andrew, it’s a planet!” she exclaimed and Andrew turned in his standing position to nod absently.

“You said that the odds were astronomically against this,” she said as Andrew, the human fun sponge, had calculated its chances to being exactly impossible.

“They, they are,” he stammered and returned his gaze to the looming planet.

“Well, is it, you know, liveable?” Becky asked with excitement growing in her voice.

“Yes, perfectly, its atmosphere doesn’t appear to be much different than earths,” he answered.

“It’s unbelievable,” Becky marveled as she walked to stand next to Mark. “What about other creatures? Is there anything alive down there?”

“Affirmative, be it food, friend or foe, the imager shows plenty of animal activity at the surface.”

Awestruck in silence and as they slowly absorbed the colossal potential floating before them, Andrew and Becky’s fingers gingerly touched together and gently entwined.

“Take us home, Captain Chizka,” she said while looking up at her future fifth husband and Andrew set the thrusters to manual.

If you can afford it, and you can do so legally, I would say go for it.

I too am 73. My wife left me 20+ years ago, the best thing she ever did for me.

Some time in the next 10 or 15 years I shall die. In the meantime tho, I plan to experience as much of life as I can. So despite meagre resources I travel extensively.

After covid was managed I sold a car and spent 3 months riding trains and exploring France. Then I did a 3 months stint working on a goat farm in Wakayama Japan. I learned two things. 1. It is much cooler in Japan during Australia’s hot summer and 2. Farmers in Japan cannot attract workers. So they are very glad to provide food and board in exchange for 20 hours of light work a week.

I have just returned from working on a pig and sheep farm in Hokkaido Japan. I was there for three months and was able to watch that country change from full leafed summer glory, to a -10º winterscape. Then home to a 44º Australian summer.

 

I am currently looking for a volunteer position on a European canal barge. Any takers?

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main qimg 03d9e73755d27fc6034b2582e170fe6b

You are going to die soon, so if you are able, get busy and go learn something. Once you do you will find that everybody in the world is basically similar. There are two discernible groups of humans. The vast majority of the worlds people want to work, to love, to play, to raise up their kids and worship their gods in peace. These are the people you meet when you travel.

And then there are the rulers, who simply want to fuck things up for everybody else for their own aggrandisement and profit. These are the people who inhabit the media and government and business. The 1%.

Chinese robot maids will clean , cook, serve most middle income homes of the world over. 90% of vehicles will be China made EVs. 90% of gardens will be tended by Chinese robot gardener. 50% of lonely singles will have regular sex with Chinese made robot partners. Almost zero bars will be without Chinese robot servers that dish out cocktails and serve beers with precise foam and clean and wipe glasses too! Almost all lorry and buses drivers will need to find a new career. 10 years old now and younger will no longer need to learn how to drive by teenage years anymore. And 95% of cars world wide will be autonomous driving vehicles. 95% of there are using Chinese technologies!

Only USA will there be people who still carry wallets and purse! The only market left for ICE vehicles is the USA. By 2030 194/195 nations on earth has China as their biggest trading partner on earth. The only one not is USA whose Inflation hit 200% for the 10 years running. Thanks to the trade war! USA is a good place to bring your families to see what the world used to be!

Chimichangas de Pollo

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d38466969bb82203607bacc2045c90d3

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

Chimichangas

  • 1 (3 1/2 pound) whole chicken
  • 6 cups water
  • 1 medium onion, studded with 2 whole cloves
  • 2 stalks celery
  • 2 large whole garlic cloves, peeled
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 2 tablespoons shortening
  • 1 large onion, thinly sliced
  • 1 garlic clove, minced
  • 1 large tomato, cored and diced
  • 1 jalapeño chile, chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed leaf basil
  • 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed leaf oregano
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
  • 8 flour tortillas, warmed

Garnish

  • 2 cups sour cream
  • 1 cup guacamole
  • 2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
  • Shredded lettuce (optional)
  • Tomato wedges (optional)

Instructions

  1. Place the chicken, water, onion, celery, 2 garlic cloves and bay leaf in a medium size stewing pot. Cook chicken at medium heat for approximately 1 1/2 hours, or until the chicken is tender.
  2. Allow chicken to cool, remove meat from bones, and chop.
  3. Place shortening, sliced onion, and 1 minced garlic clove in a medium size skillet and sauté mixture over medium heat until onion is tender.
  4. Add the chopped chicken, tomato, jalapeño chile, and remaining seasonings and simmer at low heat for 10 to 15 minutes.
  5. Place approximately1/2 cup of chicken mixture horizontally across the bottom half of each tortilla. Do not extend the mixture beyond 1 1/2 inches at the sides and bottom. Fold the sides in over the filling and roll the tortilla jellyroll style. Secure each roll with a wooden pick.
  6. Heat 2 inches of shortening in a heavy pan over medium high heat.
  7. Fry each rolled tortilla in hot shortening until crisp and lightly browned. Drain on absorbent towels.
  8. Assemble the chimichangas by placing each rolled tortilla on a plate and garnish with 1/4 cup of sour cream, 2 tablespoons of guacamole,1/3 cup of Cheddar cheese, lettuce and tomato wedges.

 

Modern Women HAVING MELTDOWN Over Passport Bros!

 

How much is known about the Voynich manuscript?

My paleography teacher told me that the Voynich Manuscript (Beinecke MS 408) is where your career goes to die. If you claim to be able to decipher it — no, you can’t. Literally every paleographer, cryptographer, code-breaker, linguist, etc. has taken a crack at it by now, and if none of them could decipher it, you definitely have not. If you claim to, you won’t be taken seriously.

We know basically nothing about its contexts beyond what we can see. It’s clearly an herbal of some kind, but the plants do not exist, and there are lots of other extremely strange images, like naked people bathing in a plant? Or being swallowed by it?

These are photos I took of a facsimile. They don’t let you see the real deal anymore unless you really have to, because so many people have touched it, it’s starting to damage the manuscript. The facsimiles are perfect reproductions.

The writing definitely looks like text, but it’s not in any known language or alphabet. Looking at it makes you feel like you suddenly forgot how to read. It looks so much like letters that you feel like you should be able to read it, but it’s just off:

All we know for sure is that it’s a real early modern manuscript, not a modern hoax. There’s a reference to it in the seventeenth century, so it’s at least that old, and the vellum is dated to the fifteenth century.

There’s lots of theories about what it could be, but none of them prevail, because we can’t rule any of them out. If it’s encoded, it doesn’t match any code-breaking technique that’s been used against it so far. If it’s a hoax, it’s an elaborate and expensive one. It honestly might be fiction, written in a conlang. That’s the only explanation that makes sense to me so far, because it would explain why the pictures are of imaginary plants and why the text doesn’t map to any known language. But Tolkienesque works of fiction with their own conlangs weren’t exactly common at the time; fantasy as we know it hadn’t been invented yet. Maybe it just dropped out of fairyland one day, I dunno.

An unreadable book in an unknown language with cryptic drawings of unreal plants and astrological charts sounds so fantastical, it’s hard to believe it’s real. Whether the Voynich Manuscript itself is fiction or not, it makes for some excellent fodder for modern fiction.

Investor Alert: Revolutionary ironmaking method will nullify tariffs and scramble iron ore markets

https://youtu.be/8WnvulH0URA

My morning jog and what it is like in China at 5 am

Every morning I get up at 5 am and jog. I am perhaps the slowest jogger on the face of the earth. Indeed, but I do enjoy my morning routine.

It’s quiet.

I often see some local cats that hang out in the early morning.

The garbage grannies go trash-can to trash-can as they sort though the cardboard, the glass and bottles, and other rubbish. They quietly sort through the debris.

The street lights are on, and the decorative tree lighting illuminates the shrubbery in spots here and there.

On the sidewalks are the painted and paved jogging surfaces with broad yellow lanes clearly presented. In 50 meter increments are mileage markers. With a “Start” and a “550 meter” markers clearly presented in loud yellow. I generally make two laps on the track, which is a nice 1 km run.

There are two other joggers at that time.

One is a young man in his early 30s. He really jogs fast; even a run. Or a gallop. He doesn’t run on my track. Instead he does so in a much smaller circular path.

The other is an older man. Maybe in his 80s. He jogs even slower than I do. More like a shuffle in a slow motion jog.

Believe it or not, my jogging speed is somewhere between these two.

Scooters are parked everywhere. All of the scooter charging stations are occupied. With the led lit controls all blinking or flashing in reds, oranges, greens or the cool blue displays mounted on the rails in the station.

It is a view that I see every morning.

After my jog I go into my building. Ride the elevator and take my morning shower.

Then change, and drink two cups of warm water before I go make a cup of coffee. (Hydrate first, then enjoy the coffee.)

That’s what I do and how I spend my morning.

I think that all of us have our little routines. This is mine. I do it mindlessly. And thus effortlessly.

Ah. Don’t misunderstand.

As there are times to be “mindful”, there are also times that it pays to be “mindless”. Go on auto-pilot and enough your weight loss in the process.

Today…

A 10-kilo block of military explosives that I almost activated by accident.

It was night, we were on a small forest path in Kosovo and our idea was to put a boobytrap on a path near an enemy position.

We used a tripwire for this and when we had found a good spot, I attached one of its ends to the (hand grenade) detonator of the explosive.

Unfortunately, however, when my buddy tried to attach the other end of the wire to a tree, he pulled a little bit too hard on the wire and I just felt how the pin of the grenade detonator started moving.

main qimg e8ad23bbeec7ce7e9825fb8b82d99d16 pjlq
main qimg e8ad23bbeec7ce7e9825fb8b82d99d16 pjlq
 

With a friend of mine at our guerrilla base preparing explosives. (screenshot from an AP video)

I told him to stop and quickly put both of my hands above the detonator so it couldn’t activate the bomb. My buddy immediately realized what was going on and cut the wire.

We were in a bad situation: I couldn’t just throw the whole thing away as the power of the explosive was far too strong and would have killed us.

The second problem was that the enemy was nearby and we couldn’t afford to make any noise.

The detonator was solidly attached to the explosive with plenty of duct tape and the only way to remove it was to use a knife. We needed to have some light to be able to work on it and therefore, my buddy placed his hands under the explosive and we carefully carried it towards a small hamlet.

We went into a small basement, my friend lit a candle, and then we started neutralizing the device. When my buddy had cut out the detonator, we saw that the pin had been almost completely removed, Maybe one or two millimeters more, and the whole thing would have blown our heads away.

We put the pin back into the detonator and smoked a cigarette. Our job, however, wasn’t finished yet!

We re-attached the detonator to the explosive and went back to the enemy’s position to set up our trap. This time, however, we acted more carefully.

They Said AI Couldn’t Replace Hollywood… Then Kling AI Did THIS

Damn! this is simply amazing.

https://youtu.be/JaDs4_nz_BM

Preppy Tonk and Jon

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

 

Charlie Murphy

 
Preppy Tonk looked at her rival with an evil twinkle in her eye.“What?”“Nothing.”“I see that evil twinkle in your eye again.”“No. It must be the burning hot sun reflecting off your chromed head.”“Nuh-uh.”“Yeah- huh,” Preppy Tonk shot back.“Whatever, lets continue.“King to knight rook.”The purple slug looked down at the holographic chess board. “Poopy-doodles, you win again!”“Yaysies-daisies!”

”If this was Earth Chess, I’d kick your butt!” Jon exclaimed, wiggling his fat, dripping eyestalks.

“Yeah, but the author doesn’t know how to play chess and that would require research and he’s too lazy.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but you’re still a silly.” Jon stuck his slimy purple tongue out.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Well, let’s have a trace then.”

“Trace?”

“No, a race! Goddamn u, author. Fix your typos!”

“Yeah, you ready, Enourghipool… er, Preppy Tonk?”

“You know it, Jon!” she said and stretched her furry brown legs.

“Your silver eyes look like pools of mercury.”

“Thanks? I guess?” Crouching down in racing position, Preppy Tonk lifted her leg.

“Did you, make a stinky?”

“Yes, … I… did!”

‘”It smells like rotten eggs.”

Preppy Tonk’s face turned red.

“You made a stinky, you made a stinky!”

“Whatever.”

“Ready…” Jon announced as a star shot through space.

Preppy Tonk’s muscles tensed up.

“Set…”

“I know what comes next!” Preppy Oblanka Tonk smiled.

“Go!” Jon whispered.

“Run!”

“Jump!”

“Kick!”

“Touch the stars!”

“Look into the sun!”

“How? I’m blind.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Why did you claim you were blind then?”

“Cuz I’m goofy!”

“But you’re not a hobo dog.”

“Goofy isn’t a hobo.”

“Oh , what is he?”

“A goofy dog, duh!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I know these things,” Preppy Tonk whipped her huge head back with confidence.

“Oh, so you’re a professional now?”

“Yeppers.”

“Good grief!”

“Oxymoron, oxymoron, oxymoron!”

“Hey, that’s not nice!”

“No, an oxymoron is contradictory terms.”

“Oh, why is it called that then?”

“I don’t know. Do I look like an English professor?”

“I’m not sure how to take that…”

The two rivals panted as they ran throughout space. They passed an orange planet, then a blue one made of hot dogs, and finally, Earth.

“Stop describing everything!”

“Who are you talking to, sis?” Jon asked as a drifting robotic Golden retriever passed in between them.

“Our creator again. He keeps describing the scene,” Preppy Tonk replied.

“Isn’t he supposed to do that?”

“Yeah, but it’s getting annoying!”

“So? We’re competing against each other. That’s more important, right?”

“I guess so,” Preppy Tonk said, biting her blue puffy lip.

“Atta girl,” Jon replied and patted her on the back.

“Hey, how can you pat me on my back? I thought you were ahead of me.”

“Uh… I forgot that explanation.”

“Did you?… or did the author forget?”

“I have no cosmic idea, Preppy Tonk.”

“I thought you knew everything.” She raised an eyebrow.

Preppy Tonk glared at her opponent.

“You know, for an alien slug, you sure are fast!”

“Hmm, alien slug…. Where have I heard that before?”

“Maybe in a book about kids who can turn into animals?” shrugged Preppy Tonk.

“Almost at the finish line!” Jon said with glee.

“How can you tell?” Preppy Tonk asked, putting her hairy claws together.

“Checkered line coming up!” Jon pointed straight ahead with his slimy antennae.

“Oh, just cuz there’s a checkered line means the end of the race?” Preppy Tonk said, putting her paws on her brown meaty hips.

“Yes that’s the rule,” Jon said, adjusting his squared glasses.

“Well… OK,” Preppy Tonk said as she scratched her ear.

“Have an itch?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I have an itch, too.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-uh!” Jon said, passing a large pink asteroid.

“Well, then, where’s your itch, huh?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Ew.”

“OK, OK, it’was my arm,” Jon smiled.

“Oh, that’s not bad.”

“It itches more than yours,” Jon said, scratching his arm.

“Nuh-uh, mine itches more.”

“Let’s finish the race!” Preppy Tonk exclaimed.

Jon ran through a hoop, jumped over the fence, and hauled through lava.

“I win! I win!” Preppy Tonk did the macarena.

“You cheated.” Jon pouted.

“No, I didn’t!

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“OK, I believe you,” Jon said.

“Knock knock,” Preppy Tonk whispered.

“Who’s there?” Jon asked.

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

“Dwayne the bathtub, I’m dwowning!”

Jon laughed like a hyena. “Mine’s better!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, a duck walked into a bar and ordered some quackers. When the waiter asks her how she will pay, the duck says ‘put it on my bill.’”

“Not funny at all, my rival.”

“Humor is subjective, so I win!” Jon blew a raspberry at her.

“How old are you?” asked Poppy Tonk.

“I am an adult.”

“Cool, I’m a kid.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really!”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Sing baa baa black sheep.” Preppy Tonk started singing.

“You have a beautiful voice!”

“And?”

“And what?”

“AREN’T YOU GONNA SING?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“I thought we were competing,” Preppy Tonk said and sneezed.

“Oh, yeah, goofy me. I forgot. By the way. Bless you or gazoontite, or whatever.”

“Thanks, wait… Goofy?”

“The author‘s getting tired of ‘silly’.”

“But, he used it.”

Preppy Tonk shrugged. “It’s his story.”

“Oh, OK.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I like that word very much!”

“I do too, but let’s move on.”

“Alright, wanna have a tickle fight?”

“You know I do!”

She tickled his foot. “Geetsa-geetsa… Hey, look, a tree; it’s floating in space,” Preppy Tonk said and floated to it and she giggled. “Stop.” Grabbed an apple. “This will knock your socks off!” She started juggling.

“Oh yeah?” Jon said as he cocked an eyebrow. “Watch this!” He grabbed the tree and shook it until every apple detached and floated into space.

“Impressive?”

“Thank you. I’m the King.”

“King of what?”

“King of Apple!”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really.”

“Well, I‘m the Queen of Blueberry Squash Pie.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Wanna keep going?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“We made it to the thousandth word!”

Western Enchilada Lasagna

7eda13569b362b2440961e4873492288
7eda13569b362b2440961e4873492288

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 (16 ounce) can enchilada sauce
  • 1 onion, diced
  • 1 pound Cheddar cheese, grated
  • 1 pound Monterey Jack cheese, grated (optional)
  • 1 cup oil
  • 2 packages corn tortillas
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon paprika

Instructions

  1. Brown ground beef with onion and spices, drain and set aside.
  2. Warm enchilada sauce, adding 1 cup of cheeses for flavor.
  3. Heat oil in small saucepan. Dip tortilla into hot oil long enough to soften. Layer six across on bottom of pan.
  4. Layer bottom of pan with tortillas, cover with meat, cheese, enchilada sauce and repeat three times.
  5. Cover and bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 40 minutes.

The Things China🇨🇳 Does Better Than Denmark | My Thoughts After 1 Year in China

After little over a year in China, here are the things I simply think China does better than Denmark. From healthcare and policing to politicians being held accountable.

https://youtu.be/Qc7QoqojewI

The daily Shorpy

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After Smearing China, the U.S. UN Ambassador Fled Away

https://youtu.be/nN0yCIdil60

Anyone been embarrassed by a friends mom at a sleepover?

When I was young, my mom was “the cool mom”. Every kid in the neighborhood was over our house every day after school. We tore up the back yard doing every imaginable kid disaster you can think of. And when we were worn out, she called us in for tea and cookies and every kid crowded around the table while she served us tea and hermits or oatmeal cookies.

When I was an adolescent, we would climb Blue Hills at 4:30am to watch the sun rise on Easter and sing the glory of God and scream out, at the top our lungs, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!” (Ps 118;22) My mother had done it all her life, and now I do it too. But every fucking kid in the neighborhood would sleep in our house, everywhere, the night before, in their Snoopy sleeping bags, on the couch, on the floor – everywhere. And then we would cram into my aunt’s ancient Chevy Nova with no rear windshield and blue smoke pouring out the exhaust and Pepsi, the German Shepherd with his head out the window and off to Blue Hills in the pitch dark we went, still groggy with sleep. And when we got back, there was pounds of bacon sizzling, mountains of scrambled eggs and pancakes and a shitload of toast. We were pretty poor, but no kid ever went hungry at 6:30am on Easter Morning. No parent ever worried about their children when they were with “Mrs Bazzinotti”. She was the gold standard in safety and propriety.

We actually started a tradition. It became so popular with the high school kids that the number of kids grew so large, the local Catholic church usurped our tradition and bussed the congregation to the top and held a Mass service with candles and communion. They literally ruined our Easter tradition, first by eliminating the need to climb – and we always climbed – and by formalizing the rising of the sun (Son). But we traditionalists still hiked the “mountain” at 4:30 in the frigid cold on Easter and sang the Hallelujah Chorus as the sun broke over the horizon. Sixty years or more I have been doing this.

And I was proud of my mom every single time. She was a magician. She climbed up and down and then made breakfast.

There were LOTS of things that embarrassed me about my mom as a teen – but that wasn’t one of them. When my mother died in 2012, the Park Service let us put a stone bench on the top, right where she stood, with her name and that passage from Psalms engraved on it. On Easter morning, we greet our mom, stand on the bench and watch the sun come up.

KJ Noh | South Korean President Planned Disappearing Opponents After Martial Law Decree

https://youtu.be/GMJzyZ4w728

Tortilla Lasagna

72a3ad16966a5d011e3341f76bb9b1c1
72a3ad16966a5d011e3341f76bb9b1c1

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds lean ground beef
  • 1 large sweet onion, chopped
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1 (14 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
  • 12 corn tortillas
  • 1 (16 ounce) container cottage or ricotta cheese
  • 1 cup Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
  • 2 cups lettuce shredded
  • 2 fresh tomatoes, diced
  • 1 cup black olives, sliced
  • 1 cup Cheddar cheese, shredded

Instructions

  1. Brown ground beef in a large skillet with onion and garlic.
  2. Add cumin, red pepper, cayenne pepper and diced tomatoes and cook over low-medium heat for several minutes. Remove from heat.
  3. Place 6 of the corn tortillas and the bottom of a lightly greased 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish and spread meat mixture evenly over tortillas. Top with remaining tortillas.
  4. Combine ricotta and Monterey Jack cheeses and mix well.
  5. Spread cheeses over tortillas and bake at 350 degrees F for 30 minutes.
  6. Remove from oven and top with lettuce, tomatoes, black olives and Cheddar cheese.
  7. Slice and serve.

Bioluminescence in the Interstellar

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

 

Brittany Gillen

Wrong, wrong, wrong.How could this be happening? Every single reading Jerrie took didn’t make sense.  Yesterday, the readings were spot on, perfectly in range.  Today… today was just wrong.  Most scientists felt a thrill when readings turned uncharacteristic, hoping for a breakthrough discovery, but Jerrie knew that her readings were not uncharacteristic.  They were just wrong.  She also knew the reason.“Charlie!”For the last two months, she had been living in a tiny research capsule just outside the edge of the Milky Way measuring light waves in the interstellar medium.  Her goal was to take up-close-and-personal readings to confirm the current scientific theories about PAH molecules. All of the measurements, even at close proximity, barely registered on Jerrie’s expensive equipment.  It was like catching every word of a whisper from across a table in a crowded room.But today… today the measurements maxed out all her dials.  The whisper was screaming.  Today, Jerrie could see the light brightening with her vastly inferior human eyes. With her eyes for crying out loud!Something was creating interference, which was very rare in the interstellar medium.  Out here it was dark, cold and empty.  Empty except for Jerrie and Charlie. 

“Charlie!”

 

Seriously, Jerrie thought.  There are only four compartments in this capsule.  She knew that Charlie could hear her, and she knew it only took about two seconds to cross them all and join her.  Jerrie drummed her fingers on her keyboard and closing her eyes slowly counted to ten.

 

Finally, Charlie’s hair floated around the corner.  Charlie’s long hair preceded her everywhere she went.  To keep it somewhat contained, Charlie kept it pulled back in about a dozen long braids, but in zero gravity, the braids wriggled all over like a clutch of very excited snakes.  It totally creeped Jerrie out and created a horrible distraction.

 

“I thought we agreed you were going to pin back all your braids from now on,” Jerrie said grimacing.

 

Charlie just shrugged and chugged the last of the soda in her hand, tossing the empty container back towards the supply room.  Jerrie cringed again.  Charlie drank soda like it was her lifeblood.  She went through at least a dozen packets a day of the syrupy drink.

 

“Charlie, the container,” Jerrie said.

 

“What?” Charlie said with a shrug.  “I’ll get it later.  What do you want?”

 

“You can’t just toss things all over the capsule,” Jerrie complained.  “This isn’t your childhood bedroom.”

 

“Or my college dorm room, or a bachelor pad, or a trash yard.  I know,” Charlie replied rolling her eyes.  “Just tell me what you want already.  I’m not in the mood for another lecture on cleanliness being next to godliness.”

 

Jerrie took a deep breath and centered herself.  “My readings are unusual today,” she said calmly, pulling them up on the screen.

 

“Uh, huh,” Charlie said looking at the monitor while scratching her tummy vigorously.  “In what way?”

 

“In what way?” Jerrie wanted to scream even louder than the readings.  “Charlie, you just don’t understand my work at all.”

 

“Then what did you call me in here for?” Charlie complained.  “My job is not to interpret your results.  I’m your pilot.  Now, if you want me to move the capsule, I would LOVE to do it for you.  Can I, can I, please?”

 

“No,” Jerrie groaned, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Just a few feet?” Charlie tried sweetly, rubbing the back of Jerrie’s shoulders.  “Maybe I’ll just do a few donuts and bring us right back to the exact same spot.  Churn up the space matter a little.  Maybe that will fix your readings.”

 

Jerrie just sighed, tired of arguing.

 

A timer started quietly beeping.  “I’ll get the lights,” Charlie said, pushing off Jerrie’s shoulders towards the opposite wall.

 

“Give me two seconds, to prep the sensors and save the previous measurements.”  Jerrie’s hands flew across the computer.

 

“Is it hot in here?” she heard Charlie ask.  Jerrie just ignored her until Charlie’s shirt floated in front of her face.

 

“Charlie, what are you…” She turned around to find Charlie almost completely undressed.  Her black bra, “Wednesday” day-of-the-week underpants and Velcro shoes her only attire.  “Seriously! Can you put your clothes back on? It makes me uncomfortable.”

 

“Yeah, well, being hot makes me more uncomfortable,” Charlie said, continuing to scratch her bare chest. “Besides, I’m in the best shape of my life, someone should enjoy the view.”

 

Jerrie groaned.

 

“I think I may be running a fever,” Charlie complained.  “My eyes feel hot.”

 

“Don’t you dare take off any more clothes,” Jerrie warned keeping her eyes permanently fixed on her monitor.  “Alright, I’m ready.  Shut off the lights in three, two, one.”

 

The capsule went dark and Jerrie hit the button to begin the image and measurement captures.  Then Jerrie noticed a reflection on her monitor.

 

“Darn it, Charlie, turn off that flashlight.”  Jerrie turned around ready to jettison Charlie out the nearest porthole, but then jerked herself back towards the console in fright.  “What did you do?”

 

Charlie, her eyes bulging, floated in front of Jerrie, running her fingers all over her brightly lit torso.  Vibrant green veins crisscrossed Charlie’s entire body.  They glowed with a bioluminescence that Jerrie had never seen on a human before.  It reminded her of the small deep-water fish she had visited at the aquarium in her childhood.

 

Recovering from her initial shock, Jerrie floated closer and traced one of the lines with her finger. “How are you glowing like that?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Charlie responded, flicking Jerrie’s cold hand of her belly and shivering.

 

“Well, you did something,” Jerrie told her.

 

“Why, do you always assume everything is my fault?” Charlie complained, reaching for her pants and pouting her lip.

 

“Because, I don’t look like that!” Jerrie said pointing.

 

“How do you know?” Charlie said wriggling her pants up over her bottom.  “Prove it.”

 

Unable to resist proving Charlie wrong, Jerry quickly pulled up her own shirt.  Then she smugly smiled at Charlie.  “See.”

 

“That still doesn’t prove it’s my fault,” Charlie said reaching for her shirt.

 

“Just let me think for a minute,” Jerrie said, rubbing her temples and staring at the green glow emanating from Charlie’s chest.  She reached forward to touch it again, but Charlie twitched away.  “I’ll be gentle,” Jerrie told her and leaned in even closer. Jerrie could have sworn the veins moved across Charlie like worms in a mud puddle.

 

Pulling back, Jerrie took a deep breath and pulled at her lip as Charlie put her shirt back on. Then something caught her eye in the eerie glow.  Charlie’s soda floated nearby.  Jerrie wanted to mention again why it was important to not throw trash helter-skelter in the capsule when she noticed a drop float out of the neck of the container. It also glowed a luminescent green. Jerrie looked at Charlie and noticed that she had seen the droplet as well.

 

“You don’t think…” Charlie began.

 

“This was caused by your soda,” Jerrie finished.  “The evidence points that way.”

 

“But you drink the soda too.”

 

“No, actually, I don’t,” Jerrie said turning back to her monitor and cancelling the contaminated readings.

 

“What do I do?” Charlie asked beginning to panic.

 

“Stop drinking the soda,” Jerrie said, deleting the files and making notes in her journal.

 

“Jerrie, focus here for just a second, please,” Charlie pleaded.  “I look like a glow bug!”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Jerrie threw over her shoulder, bending her head down and trying not to laugh.

 

“I’m not fine,” Charlie complained.  “I itch. I feel like my skin is going to burn off me, and I’m lit like a neon sign.”

 

Jerrie shook of her giggles and turned around attempting to be solemn.  Charlie was scratching all over now and writhing like she had ants in her pants.  It was more than Jerrie could take.  She burst out laughing.

 

“Stop it,” Charlie complained. “it’s not funny.”

 

Eventually, Jerrie calmed down enough to help Charlie rub olive oil lotion on her itchy skin and got her some cold compresses to help with the heat.  With Charlie’s permission, she took pictures of the “rash” as they started calling it, though Charlie wanted to call it the infestation.

 

“Nothing is living inside you,” Jerrie reassured her.

 

“Then I’ve been poisoned. You’ve poisoned me!” Charlie cried, thrusting out an accusatory finger.

 

“You poisoned yourself,” Jerrie said with a snicker.  “I told you not to drink so much of that candy-water.”

 

“Hey, it keeps me awake,” Charlie said petulantly.  “Otherwise, I’d spend all day sleeping.”

 

“Would that be so bad?” Jerrie whispered to herself.

 

“I heard that,” Charlie said glowering.  “I wish I could go into cryo sleep while you did your work, but someone has to keep you company.” Charlie made air quotes with her fingers on the word company.

 

Jerrie sighed.  She knew she wasn’t very good company for Charlie. Her entire focus was on her research. She had one shot to gather meaningful data before they traveled back to the main station.  She wanted to make her time in the interstellar medium count for something.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jerrie said. “I tried to teach you about my work.”

 

“It is as interesting as watching paint dry,” Charlie grumbled.

 

Jerrie felt hurt, but she knew to most people Charlie was right on target.  “You could read a book, watch a movie, exercise,” she offered.

 

“This is my sixteenth mission,” Charlie told her.  “I exhausted my interest in all those things long ago.”

 

Jerrie had never really thought about Charlie’s past experience before.  “Sixteen, really?”

 

“Lucky number sixteen,” Charlie said, rummaging through the snack box.  “And no one ever lets me move the ship,” she grumbled while shoving a granola bar in her mouth.

 

“Never?” Jerrie asked feeling guilty.

 

“Never,” Charlie replied emphatically.

 

The two floated in the galley in silence.  Charlie chewed on her granola bar and read the wrapper and Jerrie twisted her ring while biting her lip.  She felt horrible.  To be honest, there wasn’t any solid reason why they couldn’t move the ship.  Sure, it would be more consistent to take all the readings from the same spot to minimize any undesired variables. However, she already had two months of solid data without one single deviation in readings.  Not one deviation until this morning.

 

“Maybe a change in location wouldn’t hurt,” Jerrie offered.

 

Charlie’s eyes lit up a bright as her bioluminescent belly.  “You mean it?”

 

“Yeah,” Jerrie said with a shrug.  “We could move the ship every day for the last thirty days and see if the readings from multiple locations are consistent with those we have already obtained.  If they are, then it would mean…”

 

“You are the best!” Charlie squealed while bear hugging Jerrie until she couldn’t breathe.

 

Jerrie just patted her on the back.  “I know.”

 

Charlie threw her granola bar wrapper over her shoulder and swam for the control center.

 

Jerrie grabbed the wrapper and shoved it into a trash receptacle.  “But only on one condition,” she called out, following Charlie and settling into the passenger seat.

 

“Anything,” Charlie said.

 

“No more of that wickedly green soda,” Jerrie told her.

 

“Deal,” Charlie said quickly.  “I guess they don’t call it Aberration for nothing!” she said with a wink.

 

“Do they really call it that?” Jerrie asked wide eyed.

 

Charlie just winked at her.

 

For the next week, Charlie moved the ship every morning, and Jerrie waited patiently while Charlie added a few flips and donuts to the maneuvers.  Charlie’s fluorescent color had faded overnight with the administration of several large glasses of water.  Jerrie’s readings returned to the predictable, and she cheerfully noted that the change in location was having zero effect on her results.

 

Until day five.

 

“Charlie!” Jerrie called from her lab.

 

Charlie’s snake-like hair proceeded her around the corner again, but this time Jerrie kept her commentary to herself.  When the rest of Charlie appeared, she had a puzzle cube in hand, something Jerrie had dug out of her personal luggage.

 

“I’ve almost got it,” Charlie said focused on the cube with one eye closed and biting her lip.

 

“You’ve started drinking that Aberration stuff again, haven’t you,” Jerrie accused her.

 

“No, I haven’t,” Charlie said looking wounded.

 

“Charlie,” Jerrie said sternly.  “It messes up my readings.”

 

“Honest, I haven’t. Look.” Charlie threw the light switch and tugged up her shirt.  To her surprise, her belly glowed again with a bright red luminescence.  Although startled by the color, Jerrie still gave Charlie her best I told-you-so-look.

 

“Oh, man,” Charlie said groaning and pulling her shirt back down.  “It must be the Tongue of Fire.”

 

“What fire?”  Jerrie asked scrambling back in fear. “Something caught fire!”

 

Charlie cringed guiltily. “You told me not to drink Aberration, but water is just so blah.”

 

“So, you drank something called Tongue of Fire!” Jerrie said astounded. “I take it that it is a red color.”

 

“I wonder what color I would turn if I drank Void?” Charlie wondered, tracing the bright red highways along her arms.

 

“Charlie!” Jerrie said shocked.

 

“What?”

 

Jerrie was silently fuming. Her research was being messed with again, and Charlie did not even care.  Just stab her with a needle and put her in cryo sleep, Jerrie thought to herself.  She could feel every muscle in her body tightening.

 

“I also brought Everest,” Charlie mused.  “Would that light me up white or have no effect, do you think?”

 

Jerrie’s eye began to twitch, and her hands fisted as she contemplated how to handle her reluctant companion.

 

“Hey,” Charlie said enthusiastically.  “I just found something to do.  I can study the effect that different sodas have on body chemistry in the interstellar medium.  I mean, seriously, there is definitely something interesting going on here.  I have never turned colors before back in the Milky Way, and I’ve been guzzling soda for years.”

 

At the word study, all of Jerrie’s tension melted away.  Charlie was right.  There was a seriously interesting phenomenon happening right in front of her eyes, and she was missing it.  PAH molecules might help her understand the creation of the universe, but the implications from studying dietary consumption in the interstellar medium would be much more applicable to the progress of humankind in space.

 

“I bet we could get a huge grant to study it,” Jerrie said warming up to the idea.

 

“A grant, really?” Charlie asked.

 

“And, while we studied, you could move the ship anywhere you wanted and explore anywhere you wanted in the interstellar medium,” Jerrie said with a huge grin.

 

“There are plenty of other flavors like Fireball and Formidable,” Charlie said tossing the forgotten puzzle cube over her shoulder.  “I could make a list.  Ooooh, don’t forget Ebony.  I wonder what that would do!”

 

“Only one way to find out,” Jerrie told her.  As Charlie scrambled back into the supply room, Jerrie turned the lights back on and pulled up a clean notebook on her screen.

 

She’d contact the soda company first.  It was a pretty good bet they’d love the publicity and increase in revenue a glow-soda would create.  Proposal, she typed.   Bioluminescence in the Interstellar.  Who could resist a title like that?

 

What are some popular street foods in France?

Let’s define street food first.

  • You buy it from street stands, market stalls or stores like charuteries, boucheries, patisseries, traiteurs etc.
  • You eat it on the street, while standing, without a real plate and real cutlery. A paper tray or a disposable wooden fork does not count. You might sit down on a bench or you might use a bar table.
  • It is inexpensive.
  • I do not include plain bread, breakfast items, sweets and desserts.

Then, let’s see.

Sandwich, very popular all over France. Pronunciation is different

Pan bagnat, a specialty of Nice. Kind of sandwich, filled with salad

Pissaladière, another specialty from Nice. A kind of pizza with onions, anchovis, olives

Tielle, a savory pie from Sète, often filled with seafood

Tarte a l’oignon (onion pie), a specialty from Alsace

Quiche lorraine, another pie with eggs and bacon

Friand, pastry filled with meat or cheese

Merguez frites, a sandwich filled with Moroccan beef/lamb sausages, French fries and hot sauce. Can be messy to eat.

Crèpes with savory or sweet fillings

Oysters. Yes, they are eaten as street food, especially in the North.

I am sure if this still counts as street food, but moules frites are very popular for celebrations and gatherings

Paté en croute, not exactly street food, but can be bought at charcuteries and eaten with fingers

Then, of course, there is falafel, hamburgers, döner kebab, shawarma, pizza, sushi and other ethnic food which is available everywhere else.

The Collapse of the US Empire with Professor Richard Wolff

https://youtu.be/1NmVbztjAp4

Learn about how the Domain Physical Bodies work

Tariff = tax. Tariff on foreign country = increase tax on Americans

There are many reasons why Trump 2.0 imposes high tariff on ALL countries in the world. Below is 1 reason.

The big picture: Elon Musk said US economy is collapsing. Its debts is sky high at $36 tn as of 2024/11. With a skyrocket speed to increase debt from $10 tn in 2008, to $20 tn in 2016, to $36 tn 2024.

USA has 2 deficits: budget deficit (ie overspending) & trade deficit caused by deindustrialisation

With $6.74 tn of bonds (ie 1/6 of total $36 tn) expiring in 2025 + $1.9 tn budget deficit in 2024, USA must borrow & increase US debt by a minimum of $8.64 tn in 2025.

Just paying interest on the debts already costs USA $882 billion in 2024 ie $3 bn per DAY (source: US Treasury Dept). Its debt increases by $8.7 bn per 24 hours. … indeed rocket speed. E.Musk was not joking when he said US is broke.

USA makes tons of $$$ from wars. But wars only benefit MIC & Wall Street. Not USA the country because the rich dont pay tax. Thus USA must rob others thru tariff, regardless allies or not.

Trump 1.0 ended Syrian war. Then illegally occupied Syrian oil field ie rob Syrian oil (80%). Who pockets the Syrian oil money? US gov or MIC? USA robs Iraqi oil too after Iraqi war.

Tariff causes inflation. Without cheap goods from China & Mexico, US inflation will be sky high too.

Yet, Trump 2.0 imposes crazily high tariff on ALL countries = violently rob them to feed USA like a mafia in movies. Because USA is truly broke.

Inside USA, tariff on foreign country = tax increase on Americans because foreign sellers will add (part of) the tariff to the sale price of their exported goods to USA. In Trump 1.0, 90% of tariff was added to the sale price by foreign sellers.

In both Trump 1.0 & 2.0, Trump has & will decrease tax to attract votes. How to recover the loss of revenue incurred from tax decrease? Use tariff to cause inflation so that all Americans pay a bit ie use tariff to disguise tax increase.

We must understand: 60% tariff on Chinese imports & 20% on smaller countries is crazily unreasonable. Not many firms can make 60% of profit. Not even 20% for small firms/countries. Nobody will do business with no profit. Thus, decouple & stop/reduce sale to USA is the only option.

In fact, decoupling may be the plan of Trump 2.0. Trump may want USA to start all over again by manufacturing its own products from toilet paper to Trump’s campaign cap to washer etc. Trump wants everything to be made in USA.

US wage is higher than southeast Asia. That is Made-in-USA is more expensive. Trouble is whether USA will increase the wage to catch up with the inflated consumer products. Otherwise Americans will become poorer.

Trump 1.0 failed to attract US investors back to USA. Some still stayed in China. Some moved from China to, say, Thailand to do a finish touch on the Chinese products. This disguise of made-in-Thailand products also pushes up the American consumer price.

Let us watch Trump 2.0 to roll out.

Jeffrey Sachs on ‘China collapse’ theory

I wrote an hour ago before dinner that on Telegram that large numbers of executions have started happening.

Oh they’re totally moderate they just shoot Christians in the head or hang them instead of chopping off their heads!

He’s also moderate because he said so! Nobody would ever lie!

There’s been numerous corroborations of the executions. I still reserve judgement. But looks like MORE refugees which you have to take because you were complicit in destroying their country.

The Useless Pages

A collection of websites that are intentionally useless but often surprisingly entertaining. It’s a fun way to explore the internet’s oddities.

Useless

Here’s some of my adventures there…

screen 2024 12 09 15 18 08
screen 2024 12 09 15 18 08

Pretty useless eh?

*sheech*

That it’s just such an appalling place to live. No, really – having lived in different countries I can honestly say that the USA is an appalling place to live.

  • Everything is monetised
  • Police are ready to shoot you to death at the drop of a hat
  • TV is unwatchable due to the ridiculous proliferation of advertisements
  • Food is low quality and flavourless (you get to choose between salty or sweet. That’s it)
  • Public transport is a joke
  • Everything is method of ripping you off
  • Politics is hyper polarised.
  • The police are simply bullies with no oversight and they do whatever they want including commit crimes
  • Infrastructure is a crumbling mess and poses a real danger to the public
  • Every town looks the same – a collection of the same fast food joints, stores and strip malls
  • Toxic waste is kept in above-ground open-air pools. And when it rains a lot those pools overflow and the toxic waste goes with it. Seriously. Check it out for yourself
  • You aren’t seen as a person but as a consumer, with a wallet that needs to be emptied
  • The tipping culture is offensively entitled – you are literally expected to just give away your money to stranger for doing the job they’re already paid to do. And if you receive shitty service and decide not to tip, or if you can afford to eat out but not afford to give away your money to a stranger for no reason, *YOU’RE* seen as the bad guy. Entitled narcissistic selfishness like you’ve never seen before
  • Not just the vehicles and the houses/buildings, but everything is low quality. It’s like a disposable culture
  • The fetishisation of the military and the police force – if somebody chooses to kill strangers for a living it’s bad, but if they’re wearing a uniform while they do it you’re expected to simper and gush and worship them and say “thank you for your service” like a drone
  • The amount of their GDP they waste on their military while essential public services like schools and hospitals and fire departments and infrastructure go neglected. This is something banana republics and tinpot dictators do
  • The utter lack of concern for their out of control gun problem. Every year 3500+ children are killed with guns and the predominant attitude is “yeah well that’s just a fact of life” when literally no developed nation has this problem, ONLY the USA
  • The general complete ignorance about the rest of the planet
  • The utter lack of curiosity to learn about the rest of the planet
  • The diminishing of the middle class, and the reluctance to acknowledge it

For many years, I was an Airbnb provider at the highest level.

At one stage, we had two lovely young ladies staying with us from Xinjiang province.

For those of you who don’t know, it’s a huge province in the far west of the country, sitting above Tibet.

I asked these ladies their opinion of what we were being told about the ill-treatment of the Urghur people and the so-called internment camps; they looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “There aren’t any. One day you must come to our province and see for yourself, it’s lovely”

On another occasion we had another guest from Xinjiang, and she answered that where she lives some Urghur men carry sabre swords and her father forbids her to venture out alone.

I think that this is fairly reasonable.

I have traveled extensively throughout most provinces of China, my husband and I were lone adventures, and over those many years we met many Muslim traders, they are well dispersed all over this mind-blowing country and their presence dates back thousands of years, all this is just a Western media beat up in an attempt to try to bring China down because they are jealous of the rising golden dragon.

Long live Xi Jin Ping, he is doing a great job!

Francine Rizza

Young Gal’s Ultimatum Of No “Lovin” Until Marriage BACKFIRES, Now She’s With An Addict In A Trailer

Blue Moon

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

John K Adams

Dril entered from the air-lock. Myr looked up from the vid-screen.“Brrr, it’s cold out there.”“Don’t you wear your suit?”“Of course I do. You think I’m crazy?”Myr raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer that.“I remember reading it is always cold out there. It’s the moon, silly.”“I know it’s the moon. I got us this gig, remember?”“That I do.”“I mean, who better than us to prospect the best sites for mining delicious moon cheese?”“No one I can think of.” Myr sighed. “You know what you forgot to have delivered?”“What’s that, Honey Pie?”“Some new material. You have told a variation of that joke at least once daily for the last year.”“Except, mining for cheese is serious business.”“Please stop.”Dril smiled at Myr. “You want me to cook dinner tonight?”

Myr sighed again. “Is it dinner time? I know what the clock says, but it doesn’t feel like dinner time. The sun is still out.”

“You know how this works, Myr.”

“Of course I do. I get it intellectually. But a month of sunshine followed by a month of darkness?”

“Actually, it’s more like two weeks.”

“Really? Who came up with that schedule?”

“Uhm… God?”

“I need a break, Dril.”

“What do you say we take a week and go to the Sea of Tranquility? Or to the mountains?”

Myr put her hands up to her ears and shook her head. “No. No. No. No. No.”

Dril passed on this opportunity to, once again, make a joke about American cheese and the flag left behind by the first men to land here.

“Let’s dance.” Dril moved toward Myr with a rhythmic step. He started singing. “Blue Moon… You saw me standing alone…”

Myr shrugged off his embrace. “Don’t you dare start about Kate Smith.”

Dril put his hands up, in frustration and surrender. “I’m trying to make the best of a…”

“Cabin fever. Isn’t that what you call it?”

“On the moon, it is called ‘existential angst’.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

Dril touched Myr’s elbow. “Come on, Babe. We never look at the earthrise anymore.” He waved his hand and the shaded, domed window automatically brightened. The colorless moonscape spread before them with Earth’s blue orb peeking from behind the distant mountains.

“Stark.”

Dril shook his head. “Look at the Earth, Babe. We’ll be going home before you know it. Think how much you’ll appreciate being back.”

“Are we there yet?”

“You’ve heard that you can’t go home again?”

“Watch me.”

Dril stood back. The moment had passed. “I’m going to go out and check the sensors.” He pointed to the counter stacked with various tools and gizmos. “Would you hand me the razzafraz?”

Myr looked at the disorderly mess Dril called his workbench. She picked up the tool on top of the others. “You mean this?”

“No. That’s the franaham… Next to the thingamajig.” Myr picked up another tool at random and held it up. “Thank you.” He took the tool from her and moved toward the airlock.

“Will you be long?”

“No. You know, routine maintenance. Never can say when some asteroid will wreak havoc on our survival systems.”

“I hate when that happens.”

Dril chuckled and ducked through the bulkhead door. He stepped into his suit, secured the safety devices and donned his helmet. Taking his time, he checked the vid-feed and sound system, a routine as ingrained and natural as brushing his teeth before bed. All systems were a ‘go’.

Not that Myr would be monitoring his progress. Lately, her heart wasn’t in it.

He checked the seals on the interior door and activated the exterior door. The small room filled with steam for a moment as the air froze and then escaped into the void.

Dril scanned the bright horizon. It still quickened him to take in this alien moonscape. It never changed. But he did. Each day, his perception of this perpetually static scene seemed fresh by what he brought to it. The frozen nature of it grounded him somehow.

And of course, he thought of what ‘phase’ they were in. He could never shake the earth-centric perspective. But now, Dril would also note Earth’s phase.

After watching Earth’s rise above the horizon, Dril checked the various monitors distributed around their home base and the outer shell of their home. With few variations, all seemed in order.

He chuckled at his own joke. “The barometer seems stuck. Weird, no air pressure at all.”

When on the frontier of space like this, Dril always celebrated an ordinary day.

Seeing the giant ‘S. O. S’ scrawled in the dust by Myr, always made him smile. That happened after their first few weeks on base.

Dril remembered watching her shuffling around in an aimless manner on the landing pad near their base camp. Or so he thought.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sending a message to anyone who might be paying attention,” she answered.

Then he recognized the letters, wide as Stonehenge. Gigantic letters to be read by someone, anyone above them in the sky.

They read, “S. O. S.” Sans serif.

He knew she meant it. Keeping her morale up kept him busy. That was his hardest job.

~

Myr watched the airlock door shut. Though a daily occurrence, seeing Dril go out distressed her. What if something happened to him?

Of course, she knew all the routines and procedures. But to be alone out here on this rock… She shuddered at the thought. At first, it seemed a romantic adventure. Like being on a desert island together. Dril called it their ‘dessert island’. She never imagined how desolate the whole thing would be.

Myr entered the conservatory. She spent most of her time there. The humidity, greenery, and oxygen-rich air kept her sane. She loved caring for the plants more than anything. They were her life.

She liked the sunshine streaming into the greenhouse. The windows filtered the harsh light to a level the plants could tolerate. And she had artificial light to accommodate the long lunar nights.

Though primarily their source of fresh food, Myr lobbied for authorization to also bring decorative and flowering plants to their outpost. She prevailed by arguing an environment lacking in beauty would be better tended by a robot. Myr insisted ‘practical’ was broader in scope than ‘edible.’ A garden could include a feast for the eye as well as her belly and wouldn’t unduly tax their limited resources.

Myr had maintained even a guinea pig deserves a home and not merely a box filled with hay. Someone agreed and Myr received permission to transport seeds of her choosing, within strict guidelines.

Now she had a garden, her little paradise. But without apples or snakes. She cared for it with a passion.

The apparently spontaneous generation of certain insects and pests amazed Myr. They required constant monitoring, lest they damage the food crops. Myr understood they must have stowed away on the seeds or the soil. They were unwitting aliens on this unwelcoming stone.

Curiously, there were also spiders, who allied with her to maintain a balance within the garden. Life begets life.

She gathered a variety of tomatoes and other ripe vegetables for their dinner.

Indicator lights and a signature chirp told Myr that Dril was back. She felt calmer now and went out to greet him.

Dril already stood in the living zone when Myr entered from the kitchen. He smiled at her and they embraced. However brief his sojourns outside, Dril’s homecoming always caused her joy.

Dril asked her, “Tell me, how do you know when the moon is full?”

“You never think it is full.”

“No. Work with me.”

“Oh, a joke. Uhm… it’s always half empty?”

“No. It says, ‘hold the cheese’.”

Myr did not react. The new joke felt very old.

“How about this…? What flavor is a ‘blue moon’?”

“Dril, I was feeling better…”

“Roquefort!”

“Please?”

“Alright… One of these days I’ll make you laugh.”

Myr shook her head. “When that happens, you’ll know I’ve become a bonafide lunatic.”

They looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter. They embraced and kissed warmly.

Dril looked into Myr’s eyes. “How do you do that? You always make me laugh.”

“My little secret, love. Let’s eat.”

They walked hand in hand into the kitchen.

Brian COOKS Two Ignorant Girls Who ACCUSED Him Of Misogyny

Broccoli.

heavily abridged story below because I have no need to relive all this.

My ex was a normal and healthy 5’6” woman when we met at around age 20. Everything was fine. I worked and she Graduated college. She got a great job and the decline began. She was making far more money than me but I was still forced to work full time and go to school. Pretty sure the intent was to keep me unemployable. She took 75% of my pay as “rent” for a house she bought and only put her name on. She wouldn’t really grant me full rights to anything until I graduated college which she was working against. She always had some stupid reason and I was tired from working 40+ hours and going to school.

fast forward a few years. I’m about to finally graduate college. She has ballooned to over 400lbs. I’ve started running half marathons at this point and I’m eating real food. Every Friday night id make a nice dinner for 2. She would get fast food and eat it in front of the TV while I ate alone in the kitchen.

about the time they were cutting toes off her parents for diabetes and I was getting sick of watching everyone check their blood sugar at holidays I asked her to just try one of my prepped meals instead of getting fast food. She was reluctant to eat fresh steamed broccoli with a little butter and some salt on it. After she finally forced it down- she then proceeded to “throw up” for 2 hours.

I went and looked for my own place the next day.

Tijuana Tortilla Stacks

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be9c0ac953bce5be32605a2b9acabfb6

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 (1 1/2 ounce) envelope powdered spaghetti sauce mix
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 (1 pound) can tomatoes, cut up
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 (4 ounce) can green chiles, diced
  • 1 pound ricotta cheese
  • 2 eggs, lightly beaten
  • 8 corn tortillas
  • 1 pound Monterey Jack cheese, grated

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Brown beef in a heavy skillet. Add spaghetti sauce mix, salt, tomatoes, tomato sauce, water and green chiles. Blend thoroughly and simmer for 10 minutes.
  3. In a bowl, combine ricotta cheese with the eggs.
  4. In a flat 12 x 8 inch baking dish, place about 1 cup of the meat mixture. Place 2 tortillas over the meat, side by side, and spoon some of the ricotta mixture on top of each. Then layer more meat and sprinkle with grated cheese. Repeat until each of the 2 stacks has 4 tortillas, ending with grated cheese.
  5. Bake for 30 minutes.
  6. Let stand for about 5 minutes before cutting into pie-shaped wedges.

What are some underrated travel destinations in China beyond Beijing and Shanghai?

The three most underrated tourist cities in China, with scenery that is as good as popular attractions, but without the crowds!

Release time: 2024-09-02

In the vast land of China, in addition to those well-known popular tourist cities, there are also some seriously underestimated treasures. They may not be as famous as Beijing and Shanghai, but they have unique charm and amazing scenery. Today, let us walk into three underestimated Chinese tourist cities and feel their unknown beauty.

Tengchong Ginkgo Village shows the beauty of golden autumn

Tengchong, located in the western part of Yunnan Province, is a small border town surrounded by volcanoes and hot springs. At the end of November every year, when the golden ginkgo leaves cover the ground, Tengchong becomes a dreamlike golden world. There are more than 10,000 mu of ginkgo forests here, and the oldest ginkgo tree is 1,300 years old. Walking in it, it feels like being in a flowing oil painting.

However, the charm of Tengchong goes far beyond this. The dormant volcano, the surging hot sea, the Beihai wetland with excellent air quality, the peaceful and tranquil Heshun Ancient Town, and the hiking trails deep in the Gaoligong Mountains all make this small city full of endless fun for exploration. What is more worth mentioning is that Tengchong was also an important battlefield of the Chinese Expeditionary Force during the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression. The National Cemetery and the Chinese Expeditionary Force Memorial Hall record that magnificent history.

Jianshui Ancient City Shows Rich Cultural Charm

About 200 kilometers south of Kunming, you will arrive at Jianshui, which is known as the “Zou Lu of Southern Yunnan”. This ancient city with a history of more than 1,200 years is one of the few national historical and cultural cities in Yunnan. Walking through it, you will find that there are a large number of ancient buildings from the Ming and Qing dynasties, such as the Confucian Temple and the Zhu Family Garden, all of which demonstrate the rich cultural heritage of this small border city.

The most eye-catching thing in Jianshui is the Chaoyang Tower, which is shaped like Tiananmen Square. Every morning, when the first ray of sunlight shines on the tower, the whole ancient city seems to be coated with a layer of golden light, which is extremely beautiful. In addition, the Seventeen-Arch Bridge outside the city, Jianshui Small Train and other attractions also make this ancient city full of unique charm.

Jingdezhen brings new vitality to ceramic art

When talking about Jingdezhen, many people may think of the image of “the Millennium Porcelain Capital”. However, this ancient city is radiating new vitality. Walking through it, you will find that there are not only traditional ceramic workshops, but also many creative modern art spaces.

The Imperial Kiln Museum and Bingding Chai Kiln are two attractions that cannot be missed. They not only show the long history of Jingdezhen ceramics, but also show how modern artists combine traditional crafts with contemporary art. In addition, the Sculpture Porcelain Factory is now more like a cultural and creative park, and there is also the famous Lotte Market on weekends, where you can find all kinds of interesting ceramic works.

These cities are underestimated largely because they are not as well-known as popular tourist cities. However, it is this “low-key” that allows them to retain more original flavor. Here, you can get away from the hustle and bustle and truly feel the charm of a city.

Whether it is the golden ginkgo trees in Tengchong, the quaint style of Jianshui, or the artistic atmosphere of Jingdezhen, these underrated cities are worth savoring. Next time you travel, why not try these niche destinations? I believe you will discover a different China.

The dusty discovery behind the fridge

Have you all ever discovered something cool?

It could be in an attic, or in a back yard, during a dig up, or in a pocket of clothes.

To qualify, it has to be unexpected, and unique. Like finding a silver dollar in an old grandmothers’ coat, or a ticket to Woodstock in an old book. Or, perhaps it is a curious written message taped to the wall in a crawlspace. It could be anything.

I have a cousin that discovered a 1950’s era Lionel train set in the attic of a house that they had bought. Sure it was a fixer-upper, but the discovery of that old train set was glorious.

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My friend from boyhood; Dino discovered (during the family home renovation) that there was once a fire in their house, and the previous owners simply wall-papered up and over all the burned wood. Imagine that!

My sister lives in Lewistown, PA. She buys homes as a hobby (?) actually for investment. But whatever. Well, it’s kind of cool the things that she would discover. She was once renovating one of these houses, and pulled off the paper-walled wall, when she discovered a gorgeous set of “pocket doors”. They were amazing; all in exquisite hardwood.

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All kinds of things can be found in the most obscure locations.

I once found a pile of old “girlie” magazines behind an access panel. This was in a second floor handyman’s apartment above the Manor garage.  There was an ancient refrigerator in the kitchen area, and behind it was this little access door that led to the cubbyhole under the eves of the garage.

It was  maybe an inch or a half high, and covered with decades of dust.

These girlie magazines were nothing like what you would see today.

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All the girls wore clothes, and bikini’s.  No nudes. Just suggestive images and photos with lusty stories that were pretty darn hot.

Who knows what discoveries that you might come across in your future?

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e9fb9912cfd36bdf3a9b7518358106ef

Today…

In the past, we were taught history or general knowledge documented in school textbooks and then tested to determine our level of understanding and knowledge retention of what we were taught. No chance to question.

Now we realized that history books written may not be truthful and news that we read or listened to may be fabricated to lie and to deceive us. We now have to question everything especially coming from our government leaders and mass media.

Do our own research, participate in social media discussions and form our own conclusions. Many of us should be educated enough to hunt for the truths – thanks to the internet. But we have to speak up and share our findings, otherwise what good is there to keep the truth to ourselves.

How I see the USA as a European (After a Month There)

What is the best example of “someone having the last laugh”?

At that time I was flying from New York to India and the plane was quite full.

Next to me sat an elderly Indian woman. As I was getting comfortable in my seat, a couple came to our seats (a row of three) and told the elderly woman that she was sitting in their seat. I could tell that the Indian woman, traveling alone, was having a hard time responding in English. So, I checked her boarding pass and asked the couple to wait a moment while I called the flight attendant on duty.

The wife started being rude and saying things like, “We’re Americans, so we should be given priority,” and ” Foreigners always book tickets at the last minute and because they don’t speak English, all this chaos happens.”

I stood up and offered the protesting woman a seat and she said she wanted “her seat” which the older woman was sitting in.

Luckily, a flight attendant came shortly after, then I explained the situation and she saw that the couple was still ranting.

He asked me to take our bags and escort the old Indian ladies.

As we walked away, the wife was still ranting about how we had inconvenienced them.

Honestly I didn’t think much of it because for me sitting in another seat wasn’t a big deal.

We started walking. We crossed two sections of economy seating and ended up in business class!

I told the flight attendant that it was okay for me to go back to my original seat in economy class and she said, “You can accompany this lady. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be here alone.”

I had to go back to my seat to get my reading glasses which I had left in my seat pocket.

And what I saw, the wife argued with the flight attendant because we were already in economy class, they were the ones who should have been moved to business class. Obviously, she saw what happened.

I hope their flight remains enjoyable.

As the plane was about to land, the old lady sitting across from me (in business class of course) grabbed my hand and said ‘thank you’ and that was the most important moment of the trip.

Peace.

A very interesting and fun video for your enjoyment.

In am an Indian

We NEED CHINA badly

I don’t say China is a friend

Yet on an economic scale, India can’t do without China if India wants to advance or grow realistically

Presently Indias Manufacturing represents around 3% of the Global Manufacturing of which 68% is Low Grade & 32% is Medium Grade

This means India represents 0.96% of all Medium Grade Manufacturing in the world

Less than Vietnam (1.7%) , Mexico (2.4%) or even Bangladesh (1.0%)

China’s Manufacturing represents 36.3% of Global Manufacturing of which 14% is Low Grade, 71% is Medium Grade and 11% is High Grade and 4% is Advanced

This means China represents 24% of all the Medium Grade Manufacturing in the world

So to increase our manufacturing base, train our people and increase our output – we need Chinese Equipment and Chinese Investments

Without them we can’t genuinely progress forward


I can’t endorse hitting ourselves on the feet with an axe just for 50 paise nationalism!!

Maybe we need to rethink “nuclear weapons”

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Screenshot 20241216 184307 Boosty

Pot Roast with Potatoes

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4af2e35505f72273928442813152a085

Ingredients

  • 1 (1 1/2 pound) pot roast
  • 3 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon vinegar
  • 1 onion, cut into small pieces
  • 1 tablespoon olives and capers
  • 2 tablespoons Red Oil(Oil with Annatto)
  • 3 potatoes, cut into halves

Instructions

  1. Season the meat with garlic, salt and vinegar. Make small holes in the meat and fill with chopped onions olives and capers. Brown the meat in the Red Oil.
  2. Sauté the potatoes. Cover with water. Season to taste. Cook for 45 minutes covered, over low heat.

Life on a Station

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Corey Melin

Gorgin walked the corridors once again to make sure everything was okay.“Why do I have to continue to check out the station when we have systems set-up to make sure everything is in order on the station?” he asked the commander of the station, Morgan.“Just do it,” said Morgan.  “You never know what can get past our systems way out here in space.  There is a lot of unknown things out here. I’m tired of explaining to you each time it’s your turn.”Now, Gorgin was walking through the corridors, and checking out room after room.“Why such  huge station for just a few people?” thought Gorgin.Gorgin rounded the corner, and in front of him stood an alien that stood seven feet tall, green scaly skin, fish eyes, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and claws reaching out to him.  All Gorgin could do is stare in shock then let out a piercing scream as he started backing up around the corner, then turning and running as fast as he could. Before he reached the end he could hear someone laughing hysterically behind him.  He came to a stop and turned around seeing Dwight in the alien outfit pointing at him and laughing.“I will be taking this to the commander!” he cried out, as soon as he went to his room to change.“I can’t believe I have two adult men standing in front of me,” said Morgan.  “The two of you clowns have been at each other since you came to this station.  Should we go over everything the two of you have done to each other?”“This was all started by Dwight,” said Gorgin.  “He was the one who set the dials so I woke-up out of slumber as an old man.”Morgan and Dwight chuckled over that one.“That was a quick fix, but it was fun while it lasted,” said Dwight.“It didn’t end there with the two of you,” said Morgan.  “I believe the next mishap is when Dwight transported in the station and appeared in another section with three butt cheeks.  Courtesy of Gorgin tampering with the controls.”“Sitting down was quite comfy,” admitted Dwight with a grin.“Even though, the two of you have brought much humor to everyone you need to act like adults,” said Morgan.  “You think the two of you can do that?”The two of them nodded their heads.“Now get out of my sight and do your duties,” demanded Morgan.Both of them left the room, staring at each other with dislike.“I would greatly appreciate it if you could move to the other side of the station so I would see you less,” said Gorgin.“I would say that it would be even better if you would move off the station,” said Dwight.“Just stay away from me,” both said at the same time, and they went their separate locations.It was a couple of days later that the two met again.Gorgin went into what everyone called the “Pet Room” to create himself a pet to keep him company.  As he entered the room he saw that Dwight was already in the room at the controls.“What the heck are you doing in here?” he asked.Dwight turned to him.  “Looking for a pet. What do you think idiot?”“Hurry up then,” said Gorgin.Dwight went back to the controls and went back to pushing buttons.  Time went by as Gorgin waited impatiently for him to finish.“I think I got it,” said Dwight.  “Oh wait. That won’t do.”“That is enough,” huffed Gorgin, stomping over to Dwight.  “Give me the controls.”Next moment, both of them were fighting over the controls, pressing and clicking until there was a sudden flash that lit up the room.  Both of them stopped and looked at each other with befuddled looks.

“What the heck was that?” asked Gorgin.

“Not a clue,” replied Dwight.

“We should probably check around the station to make sure everything is okay,” said Gorgin.

The two left the room, trying to call the commander, but getting no answer.

“Let’s go to command center first,” said Gorgin.

The two rushed to the command center.

“Dwight did it!” Gorgin cried out as soon as they entered the room.

“No I didn’t!” Dwight called back.  “You butted in!”

But the two realized they were wasting there blame game for the commander was nowhere in sight.  They looked all over, but no sight of the commander.

“He’s not in the freshening room,” said Dwight coming out after a flush.

“Strange for him to be gone,” said Gorgin.

Then the two of them heard a squeak.

“What the hell was that?” asked Dwight.

“Sounds like the commander has a pet,” replied Gorgin.

The two started looking around until the two came to the commander’s chair.  Both saw at the same time a squirrel on the seat looking at both of them. It started chattering, then jumped off the chair.

“I didn’t know the commander had a pet?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head.  Then a light bulb popped on inside his head.

“What pet were you looking at getting?” he asked Dwight.

“I was contemplating on getting a tamed squirrel,” he replied.

It didn’t take too long for the two to figure out what happened.

“Did we turn the commander into a squirrel?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin just nodded then the two searched for the squirrel, which ran around the room.

“We need to get him,” Gorgin said.

The two chased after the squirrel, bumping into each other, and Gorgin grabbing the squirrel, but it bit him, and was loose once again.

“We need to get the room robot,” said Gorgin as he shook his hurt finger, going over to the panel.

He pressed some switches and next moment the robot came out.

“Retrieve the squirrel,” said Gorgin.

It didn’t take long for the robot to scoop of the squirrel and deposit it into a glass came.

“Now to see about the rest of the crew,” said Gorgin.

The two of them checked for lifeforms on the station, then checked the screens for each room they detected life.  All the lifeforms were squirrels.

“What did you do?” asked Gorgin.

“You were the one pressing numerous buttons,” said Dwight.

“We need to fix this fast,” said Gorgin.

Gorgin released the robots in each room, and the squirrels were scooped up.  The other robots were sent to the pet room.

“I hope we can reverse this,” said Gorgin as they headed to the pet room.

All the robots were in the room as the two of them tried to figure out a way to make their crew human again.

“I think I got it,” said Gorgin.  “We need to get out of the room so nothing happens to us.  The robots will be released once we leave.”

The two left the room, robots released, and there was a bright flash.  The two went back into the room and saw everyone was human again. The only thing is that they were all naked.  Commander Morgan stood up and looked at the two men with a stare of death.

“We are in trouble,” muttered Dwight.

The next day the two were put in cryosleep  until the next crew came in a couple of years.  Before both of them lay down for their sleep they looked at each other, and both of them grinned.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

A website that creates new words for emotions that don’t have a name. It’s a poetic and thoughtful exploration of the human experience.

Sorrows

Some examples of the content…

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7 USA CULTURE SHOCKS we experienced as New Zealanders in Big City America!

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If I were to hear the Good Humor Man’s bell right now, after not having heard it since 1988, no doubt my old retired leg springs would automatically reactivate, and shoot me out the door, landing me down the street, right at the side window of his truck — Creamsicle, please!

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The reason I happen to know the very last time I heard it is because I was in the midst of first time sex with a man, we were on Ecstasy, and neither of us had heard it in over a decade, having been living on a Good Humorless island in Puget Sound.

But we’d used a friend of mine’s Seattle apartment as a trysting place that day, and suddenly, in the midst of thrashing joy, the bells of perfect childhood began to ring!

Yes, I remember the very last time I heard the Good Humor Man’s truck, surprised only that I can’t pinpoint it any more than Spring of ‘88, when we didn’t even get out of bed to chase him down.

Who knew it’d be the last chance!

TOP “Drill Sergeant Monologue” Reactions! Full Metal Jacket Movie Reaction First Time Watching

Half of Forever

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Morgan Elbert

 

“Christ, One!  What the hell were you thinking?” the voice came through the hud slightly distorted.  Nothing had been right on the Doppel Station for days, maybe weeks. It was difficult to keep track of time in this lifestyle.  There were no nights, no days, and essentially no schedule. Work needed done when it needed done and it didn’t matter if the men were tired or hungry or whatever other excuse they might concoct. One tried to focus his mind enough to remember when the issues had arisen.  He knew it was during Twenty-Seven. Measuring events in that way made him feel lugubrious, but it had been his best method to date. These minor external repairs were not typically so frequent, and he grew concerned that it meant the end of the station was coming soon. Perhaps it had drifted from its axis, or some distant celestial body had shifted and was influencing it in some way.  They were still waiting to hear back from the Union regarding their query.

“One!  Yo, you listening, man?” the voice crackled through again.  One rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing the heavy exhale would be detected by the suit.  He liked the idea of his disdainful sigh echoing through the main deck for his crewmate to hear.

“God One, you don’t have to be so pissy.  Just fix that panel and get the hell back inside.  I’m sick of monitoring your vitals,” came the response.

After finishing his work, One leaned back against the hull of the station and watched the swirling of the reality around him.  The Dorra galaxy was on the small side for those that had been explored, and to One, it felt quaint — cozy even. It was like living in the smallest nearby town and still being able to see the nightlights of the closest big city.

At least, that is how One thought of it, from his studies of old human culture.  He, himself, had never lived on the planet known as Earth. Born and bred on this ship, he spent much of his free time daydreaming; imagining what life must have been like for his ancestors.  Walking in something called grass — typically green with threadlike fingers of roots extending down into the soil for nutrients, hydrogen dioxide, and security.  He wondered what that might feel like, having roots and security. Breathing unfiltered air, filled with the pollution and aromas of the natural world.  One’s entire life had been inside this shell, floating endlessly in an even more endless vacuum of nothingness. Even the gravity he experienced wasn’t what he considered natural.

“Bro — Wake up and get your ass inside,” the voice broke his melancholy revelry and One felt more angry than he had in weeks.  It wasn’t often that he sat out against the hull and let himself take in the view, but it was without fail that whenever he did, he was called back inside with the same crass phrasing that effectively wrecked whatever peace he had found in his meditation.

As One closed the airlock behind himself and secured it, he could feel the needy eyes on him through the door.  He slowly and meticulously removed his gear, inspecting each piece before placing it carefully in his cubby. Mainly, he took such care in this process because he found it an effective method to avoid returning into the main hull of the station, and thereby further prolonging his peace and isolation.

Technically, they were always supposed to take this level of care in their return inspections, but it was well known that few of the ‘nauts ever did, especially this far from the Hub.  Stations like the Doppel rarely, if ever, received elite visitors, and never had surprise inspections from the higher-ups. In fact, the Doppel was much more of a small outpost than a proper station.  The Doppel was a small superfluous station responsible for monitoring the oxygen levels and watching for signs of life on tiny dead rock on the outskirts of the galaxy. ‘Nauts stationed here were meant to exist, write reports for the Union, and maintain that there were always two living there.  Nothing else.

A pounding echoed around One as he painstakingly inspected his last valve and he turned to the door to see an angry face peering through the glass at him.

“Come on, man, get in here!!!”

“I’m doing my inspections,” One replied.

“You’re wasting time and you know it!”

“ME? Never. Why on Doppel would I ever do something like that?” he asked, faking an aghast expression.

“Duuuude….”

He ignored the plea.

“Duuuuuuuuuude.”

He continued fiddling with his equipment, turning away from the door to hide a smile.

“Gawwwwd, dude.”

One started laughing.

“Alright, I’m coming, Twenty-Seven. Calm down,” he said, crossing through the door at last.

Twenty-Seven tackled him.

“Dude, it is so freakin’ lonely in this tin can, man. I don’t know what to do with myself,” he said, latching on to One’s back.

“Maybe you should try studying or reading or something,” One replied, pulling away from the younger man, “you haven’t been alive long enough to be this bored.”

“I’m plenty old enough to be bored, bro,” came the indignant reply.

“Dude, you’ve been alive 46 days.  I activated the Womb for you less than 3 months ago.  You have no right to be this bored.”

“Yeah, and you’ve only been alive, what, 180 days?” the young man asked sarcastically, though he knew the actual count was much longer.

“I’ve been here forever.”  A cold and measured response.

The younger man scoffed before jumping on One’s back again.

One pulled away once more and went to the bunk room.  Twenty-Seven followed him closely, something clearly on his mind.  One turned to him.

“What’s up, man?” he asked tiredly.

“It’s just — Man, uh — What happened to Twenty-Six?”

“I’ve told you what happened to Twenty-Six.”

“No, you just said you needed a replacement.”

“That’s what happened to Twenty-Six.  He needed replaced.”

“Dude, you know what I mean.”

“Twenty-Six died.”

“Well doy. How?”

“We’re in space. Even if we weren’t, death is a certainty.”

“Dude, One, you are the worst at answering questions, like, ever.”

One laughed.

“Yeah, but I’m still the best teacher you’ve ever known.” he chuckled.

“You’re also the worst everything I’ve ever known,” Twenty-Seven quipped.

The men stood in silence briefly. One lowered himself onto his bunk.  Twenty-Seven watched him, an increasingly tragic expression spreading across his face.  One leaned back and closed his eyes tightly, intentionally refusing to see the younger man’s pitiful appearance.  He was tired of answering these questions with each new iteration. At this point, it seemed an exercise in futility.

Each story ended the same, each life coming to the same closing line; never anything special.  It had become easier with each passing individual. Two had been a real struggle. One had been uncertain that he would ever recover from losing his first second hand man.  He had tried to make himself disconnect since then. He spent more time outside the station when he could. Tried to be independent from them. But Twenty-Seven — Twenty-Seven reminded him too much of himself in the very beginning, beyond the obvious fact that they had the exact same face, the same DNA.  Each of the men had the same face and DNA; that wasn’t special. Somehow though, Twenty-Seven was special. Excitable and eager to know whatever he could. Stifled by life inside the Doppel. It took great effort to remain aloof with this one. One reflected on the lives of the others, how shockingly dissimilar they had all been, all facts considered, and yet they all ended the same.  Such is life, he thought to himself.

 

 

 

One woke up naturally for the first time in what felt like ages.  No klaxon blaring, no clingy crewmate awaiting his eyes to flutter open.  “Good,” he thought. Perhaps at last Twenty-Seven had gotten the hint to stop asking so many questions.  He rose slowly, stretching his aching body. The human body was not designed to spend its entire life in space.  Even One, essentially created for that purpose, still struggled with the effects.

One found Twenty-Seven sitting quietly near the com panel and staring through the view screen at the celestial bodies of Dorra that blinked and flickered around them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered, placing his hand on Twenty-Seven’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Twenty-Seven responded, being jarred from whatever distant reality his mind had ventured off to.

“So like me,” One thought with a gentle smile, before saying “Get some sleep, man.”

Twenty-Seven rose mindlessly and followed the instruction.  “How long has he been awake?” One wondered, before taking Twenty-Seven’s place at the com.  Still no message from the Union. One felt a familiar twinge of concern, before shaking it off.  What did it matter, really, he asked himself. He went about his routine, checking the equipment, checking readings, looking for anything that might have gone awry during his rest.  He was relieved to find there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and returned to his studies.

“Tell me what happened to Twenty-Six,” a groggy voice croaked from behind One.  He had been reading for hours, and the sudden reminder that he was not alone startled him.

“Christ, man!” he yelled.

“Tell me,” Twenty-Seven said again, “I need to know.”

“You already know.”

“I know he’s dead. I don’t know how he got there.”

“Does it even matter?” One shot back, “Dead is dead. Who cares how anyone arrived at dead. All that matters is that they are dead.”

“What happened to you, man,” Twenty-Seven asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“What happened to you?  Seriously, how can it not matter how they got there?  Dead is DEAD, man! Becoming dead is a big freakin’ deal.”

“Drop it,” One yelled. He felt his long stifled emotions bubbling up inside him.

Twenty-Seven was silent.

One was silent.

The silence became its own entity.  A threesome to their short staffed company.  It floated down on them and wrapped them up, holding them against one another.  One stared at Twenty-Seven, staring at his own face. Younger, not so worn down by the nihilism, unscathed by the repeated witnessing of death after death.  Hair still cut to regulation. Twenty-Seven stared back, tears prickling at his eyes and throat. He saw himself, and yet something completely different. Long, unkempt hair licking at that uncanny face, yet the skin pulled differently.  Tighter, and yet wrinkling slightly around the eyes, across the forehead. That face no longer held its softness. Silence coiled tighter, beginning to hint at suffocation.

“Look, I can’t tell you what happened to them, man,” One whispered through the smog of silence that nestled around them, “I just can’t do it again.”

Twenty-Seven nodded slowly.  Time drifted without meaning again, the way it had for so long, the way it always would, but in that moment, it was palpable.

An alarm blasted through the station, nearly shaking the men.  Something was wrong. Severely wrong. The silence that had enveloped them was eradicated.  They rushed to the com to see if they could see anything. The view screen was blank. The instruments were going berserk.  Inconsistent and chaotic readings flashed over and over before the entire com powered down. The lights dimmed inside the vessel, and a warning message began repeating itself.  One looked to Twenty-Seven. The young man’s face was contorted into fear and frown. One patted him on the shoulder. “I’m going outside,” he shouted over the various sirens and messages the station’s computer blasted through the hull.  Twenty-Seven grabbed his hand. “I’ll go,” he yelled, but One slipped away and ran for the airlock.

One grabbed his gear and slipped it on far more quickly than he ever had.  This was not how these situations were typically handled. The man with seniority was not the one who was supposed to go out during the outages, but he didn’t care.  Regulations be damned. He wasn’t going to watch it happen again. Twenty-Seven stood at the doorway, watching One as he dressed, screaming something unheard through the chaos that shattered everything he had ever known.  One heard as Twenty-Seven began trying to open the door into the airlock and before the younger man could progress, he opened the outer door, effectively locking the rest of the station down until proper procedures allowed things to open again.

One ventured out onto the shell of the station where he had spent his life.  He immediately saw where the vessel had been struck by some manner of space debris.  Two of the twelve power cells placed around the outside of the ship had been knocked loose, likely causing a short in the circuit and causing the power levels to fluctuate inside.  He set to repairing the damaged pieces, and looked up to see still more hurtling towards the Doppel. He worked as quickly as he could, but it was not fast enough. He had only been able to repair one of the cells before the next impact.  A small piece of rock struck him at such velocity it tore through the arm of his suit. Safety procedures activated. The arm was severed off and sealed instantaneously. The temperature rose rapidly on the blade inside the sleeve, cauterizing the amputation.  One screamed in pain, though from everything he had read, this was nothing compared to what would have happened without the guillotine effect of his suit. He had poured over the manuals that warned of what could happen in these circumstances. How the water in human skin would vaporise in the absence of atmospheric pressure; moisture on the tongue would boil.  All of that, of course, only mattered if the rest of you somehow had oxygen and protection from the vacuum of space. The hud began a countdown, indicating how long he had left without receiving proper medical attention. These suits, while advanced technology, could simply not stave off human death without other measures being taken to recover.

One’s mind flashed back, again and again, to each of the different men he had lost during his time on the station.  Had this been what they had felt? This fear? This — well, this relief? What sort of emotional cocktail did they each experience?  Were they — Was he — glad? He felt himself floating away from the hull of the station. The impact must have been enough to separate his magnetic boots from the titanium.  It was a weak bond anyway. It only made sense that it would have. As he rotated away from the only home he had ever known, the only home he could ever have known, he tried not to imagine the face of his protege.  He tried not to see that same face, over and over again in his mind. The fear. God, the fear. Two’s final scream flashed through his mind. Eleven. Nineteen. Each face, the same, and yet so different in that final moment.  Each death had been different, but was that even possible? Each had taken place in the same location — this godforsaken station in this corner of this godforsaken galaxy. Each death of the same person, genetically. How could it have been so different each time?  The urgency of the message in his hud increased, counting away One’s final seconds, and he felt a feeling of anticipation. Of impending freedom?

 

 

 

The Womb hummed in the background as Twenty-Seven sat at the com, studying up on life in the olden days, back on Earth.  He absent-mindedly worked his finger through the scars on his face. The scars he had put there with a broken piece of the ship gathered during a repair mission.  They were designs he had created after discovering the concept of “tattoos” during one of his deep dives into old human culture. It was his only way of feeling different.  When at last the Womb unlocked, he felt a very slight tickle of excitement. What it would be to not be alone again, even for a little while. He tried to stifle the feeling.  He knew how this always ended.

“Welcome to the Doppel,” the computer voice chirped pleasantly.

Twenty-Seven stepped into the room to watch the new arrival recover from the incubation process.  It sat up slowly, rising out of the pink amniotic fluid that each of the men was born from, stretching its back and arms.  It looked around. Focusing on his face. It blinked several times, and he waited patiently for the eyes to focus. It took some time, this orientation to the world of the living.  Fortunately, each of the clones was born with the ability to understand language and to speak it; once they figured out how to make their vocal cords work, anyway. The amnion drained from the incubation pod and the hatch opened, allowing the newest arrival to the station to step out into its new home.

Twenty-Seven leaned against the wall.  His hair was long, tumbling down his shoulders.  His hand stroked his beard out of habit.

“Get some clothes on and find me for orientation when you’re ready,” he said coldly before walking out of the Womb.  Something made him hesitate for a moment, and he turned back to his newest crewmate. Maybe this time it would be different.  He cleared his throat.

“And, uh, welcome to the Doppel, Forty-Nine.  I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Wait.  Sorry, I just wondered.  How long have you been here?” the new man smiled awkwardly before asking, as his eyes slowly took in the haggard face of his superior.

Twenty-Seven shook his head and chuckled.

“About half of forever, man.”

What a steaming pile of ignorance.

Both China and Vietnam are thriving. They are healthy, dynamic, peaceful and safe. They all have cutting edge technologies and top notch infrastructure. They are hot beds of science, technology and manufacturing.

Yeah.

No question about it.

Once you fine-tune communism to a traditional society, it unleashes a massive explosion of prosperity and happiness.

Meanwhile…

…remember what the Federalist Papers had to say about a “democracy”.

But that is for another time and another place.

Summary

Communism is thriving in China and Vietnam. The citizens are happy, productive and content.

Meanwhile, in the United States, and it’s proxy nations… we see ballistic inflation, dissatisfaction, poverty and hardship. And the ONLY thing that they can do is say …

“Well I live in a democracy, because I would hate to live in a Communist Hell-hole.”

When no one in Communist China, and Communist Vietnam consider it to be that.

In the photo are the IDs of Ukrainian slaves, who, with the tacit consent of the Kyiv regime, were captured by Erdogan’s bastards.

screen 2024 12 15 11 47 04
screen 2024 12 15 11 47 04

Syrian Wahhabi terrorists and their accomplices are kidnapping Ukrainian women in Turkey to sell them into sexual slavery. Moreover, the unfortunate women are sold to the Syrian province of Idlib, which is under the control of the Turks and pro-Turkish militants.

❗️Why won’t the SBU start rescuing their compatriots?! Because the Zelensky regime doesn’t give a damn about Ukrainians.

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screen 2024 12 15 11 47 25

And we will remind you that the Syrian army, with the support of Hezbollah, as well as the Russian Aerospace Forces and Special Operations Forces, were squeezing pro-Turkish terrorists out of Syria.

Nah. I turned 71 a couple of months ago and I am still working full time. Since I turned 60, I went through cancer treatment successfully, bought a nicer convertible than I had before, been promoted three times, and have worked on the most interesting and challenging work of my career. I feel professionally valued and don’t feel the need to prove myself. I have traveled more consistently, outlived one dog and now have the dog that may be around until I am 84. I am not married but I’ve become more connected to my community, and not incidentally, bought a Peloton. I have actually had more fun since turning 60. Just open yourself up and stop competing with 40 year olds.

Puerco con Calabasa

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c58955e39113f9e5823030f7ad756466

Ingredients

  • 1 inexpensive cut boneless pork, cut into bite-size pieces
  • 1 medium size onion, chopped
  • Several cloves garlic, chopped
  • Several ears fresh corn, with kernels removed from the cob
  • Several fresh tomatoes, chopped
  • 2 medium size zucchini, chopped
  • Few tablespoons oil
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • Cumin seeds
  • 1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped (optional)
  • Cooked rice

Instructions

  1. Sauté the garlic with the onions in a few tablespoons of oil in a deep pot. Add the pork and brown, being sure to cook through.
  2. Add cumin seeds. Add about 2 cups of water to the pot. Throw in the corn, tomatoes and zucchini. If you don’t have fresh corn or tomatoes, frozen corn and the flavored stewed tomatoes work well. Cook all of this covered on low heat for about 2 hours.
  3. Uncover while making rice and let the liquid reduce a little.
  4. Now add salt and pepper to taste. If the salt is added too early, it may get too salty as the liquid cooks off. Add the cilantro if you like it.
  5. Serve over hot cooked rice.

During World War II, the central banks of leading European, Asian and African countries transferred 20.2 thousand tons of gold to the United States – 2/3 of the world’s gold reserves. The countries that transferred their gold assets were guided by the fact that the United States was far from the theaters of military operations, and the American economy was on the rise. The United States violated its obligations to return the gold transferred to them for safekeeping. The States simply appropriated someone else’s gold.

In 1965, France, followed by other European countries, tried to “convert” dollars into gold. And then it turned out that instead of 20 thousand, only 2.8 thousand tons remained in the Federal Reserve vaults to cover foreign exchange reserves.

The remaining precious metals were either sold or were pledged for obligations to transnational financial groups.

US President Richard Nixon officially announced the refusal to convert dollars into gold on August 15, 1971. The legal rejection of the Bretton Woods system was formalized in 1976. Thus, Washington abandoned its “partners”. Thus, Washington deceived and robbed its “partners”.

Gold of Asia

In 1973, during the evacuation of Vietnam, the US appropriated 17 tons of precious metals from the South Vietnamese central bank. Another 5.7 tons were “frozen” in South Vietnamese deposits abroad. After the invasion of Iraq in 2003, the US confiscated almost all of Iraq’s gold reserves, which amounted to 127.5 tons.

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main qimg 72c6c21ca7bd98dfd7ea04a819f8b2a3

South American Gold

In 2013, the West refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Nicolás Maduro government. Since then, 201 tons of Venezuelan gold stored abroad have been “frozen.” During the Falklands War of 1982, the United States and Great Britain blocked Argentina’s foreign assets. 135.5 tons of Argentine gold “disappeared.”

African Gold

In 1986, the United States imposed economic sanctions against its ally, South Africa, accusing it of “apartheid policies.” South Africa’s gold reserves stored abroad decreased by 467 tons. The same fate befell Libya’s gold reserves, 144 tons of which “dissolved” after the West’s military intervention in 2011.

Eastern European Gold

During the collapse of the Warsaw Pact, the central banks of the socialist countries lost: Bulgaria — about 160 tons; Hungary — more than 60 tons; Czechoslovakia — 56 tons; Romania — up to 50 tons; Poland — up to 10 tons; Bulgaria — 5 tons. The USSR suffered the largest losses. In 1989-1992, more than 1,000 tons were exported from its territory to the West. Officially, this gold went “to pay off debts”, which not only did not decrease, but, on the contrary, increased sharply. In 2014, after the coup d’état in Kyiv, the United States seized 14 tons from the Ukrainian central bank “to pay off debts”.

The latest case of gold “expropriation” is related to Afghanistan, during the evacuation of which the Americans seized 22 tons of the precious metal. In total, since 1971, the US has appropriated between 5 and 6 thousand tons of gold, which allowed it to declare an “increase” in its free gold holdings from less than 3 thousand to more than 8 thousand tons.

But, well other things might come into play. So it would be rude of me to assume that the questioner is aware of what the United States has become.

Making long term, and serious decisions, such as moving to the United States should never be taking lightly or trivially. It should be well thought out, and well planned.

Ask yourself this…

  • Why are expat Americans in China giving their children Chinese passports, and not American passports? Why are they doing this? Could they, who have lived in both nations know something that you do not?
  • Once you become an American, you can NEVER undo it. You will always be an American citizen, and your income will be taxed until after you die, and your property seized as the government determines … and you will have no options or recourse to do anything about it.
  • What does the United States that is better than what you can have / get in China?

As I have repeatedly stated, the decision to become an expat is a serious one with many personal reasons. I do not know what yours are. Perhaps it is love. Perhaps it is a job. Perhaps it is allergies. Perhaps it is a love for pizza. I don’t know. But, I am sure that you do know.

Here’s what you need to do.

It does not matter what country you are leaving or what country you are moving to, the general template is always the same…

  • Visit the nation. Try to live there for a solid 6 months to two years before you even consider making a permanent citizen application.
  • Obtain work there. Obtain a work visa, or other method. Take particular note on how much you make, and how much you SAVE. that will define your expected quality of life.
  • Make friends. Take note of how easy or difficult it is to make friends. This will determine your ability to fit in the society.

If you find that you have lived there, made friends there, and can earn enough to have a good quality of life, then I would suggest making the jump towards expat. If you cannot, then the target nation is not right for you. Try a different one.

There are many, many sad stories of Chinese who left China and ended up in “bad straits” in the United States. From the multi-millionaire who had everything seized by the IRS on a whim, to the PhD professor begging on the streets of New York, to the attractive college student working in a roadside strip mall giving massages with happy endings.

There are happier stories of Chinese moving to Canada, the American territories, and Europe. And they should be considered as well.

Best of luck. Just plan, and then work the plan.

I have a project that is being run by a 25–30 something project manager. I am 61, and have been in my field for over 30 years.

I have not met this PM in person, but I have been told that this PM graduated from an Ivy League university, so she must be somewhat bright.

But she has zero knowledge or common sense. She has no experience doing the work this project requires, and possesses no understanding of the project and the tasks needed to complete the project successfully. I’ve been on this project for two years now and meet with her and her team multiple times a week so I’ve had an opportunity to gauge her abilities. She might be bright, but she has no business on THIS project. There are older folks on this project as well who don’t belong on this project either.

Young people who complain about older people not knowing everything fail to realize that spending time learning something and doing it over time (commonly known as experience) is a HUGE part of being successful. School does not teach you everything, no matter how bright you are. Some things can only be learned by doing them, often for years. As I close out my career, I look back on what I was able to do when I first started compared to my abilities now, and there is no comparison.

And the same is true in life. The more life experiences you have, the more knowledge of how the world actually works you have. Young people excuse bad behavior from others. Older people know through life experience that putting up with that will cause problems. Young people engage in risky behaviors or harmful stuff like recreational drug use, eating badly, and their limited experience tells them they will be okat]y doing what they are doing. Older people know that will catch up with you, because some of them did that stuff and they are paying for it, or they know someone who did that stuff.

Yes, just living will teach you a lot.

Cheech & Chongs Up in Smoke | REACTION

A Florida Cockatiel

Russian, living 2 years in small city in USA. So, what surprises me in real America:

  1. Almost no public transit in most areas
  2. Houses are made of wooden boards and drywall but still are not cheap (But mortgage is affordable)
  3. Colleges and education process is very nice
  4. Strangers are friendly, but some still can be rude (like at airport checkpoints)
  5. Some areas are 100% safe to walk anytime, some areas just around the street are 100% unsafe to even drive thru.
  6. Almost no dirt (does not apply to NYC)
  7. Crazy taxes (filing, not rates)
  8. Crazy medical insurance (rates too)
  9. Parks are nice, museums are great
  10. Most food is bad (but most restaurants are good)
  11. High salaries but people live paycheck to paycheck
  12. Internet is expensive and bad
  13. Cheap things, expensive services
  14. Great road system, especially interstate
  15. Communities are great. Fundraises, volunteering, etc. People DO care.
  16. You have to drive 15 minutes to a grocery store. Store is huge. HUGE.
  17. And there you can buy ammo next to paper towels but not cigarettes

List will be all different if you are tourist in big city for a week.

P.S. I really have to add this:

18. Crazy measurements system

Gorflautorillas (Phoenix Suns Gorilla’s Flautas)

These are great topped with guacamole and served with Spanish rice and beans.

Gorflautorillas
Gorflautorillas

Ingredients

Flautas

  • 2 dozen corn tortillas
  • Vegetable oil
  • 5 cups Meat Filling

Meat Filling

  • 5 cups cooked, shredded beef roast
  • 1/2 cup chopped hot green chiles, peeled and seeded (fresh or canned)
  • Salt, to taste
  • Pepper, to taste
  • Garlic powder, to taste

Instructions

Flautas

  1. For each flauta, soften and heat 1 tortilla by dipping it into 2 inches of hot oil. With tongs, hold in heated oil several seconds, or until soft enough to roll.
  2. Spoon 3 to 4 tablespoons warm Meat Filling across center of soft tortilla; roll it.
  3. Arrange in casserole.
  4. Cover dish and place in 250 degrees F oven to keep warm until ready to serve.

Meat Filling

  1. Mix beef, onion and chiles in saucepan and simmer, adding a little water for moisture but not enough to make a sauce.
  2. Season with salt, pepper and garlic powder.
  3. Keep warm.

Shorpy

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Don’t Blink or We’re All Gone

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

John-Paul Cote

BIG IDEAZ

16 February 2032

YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. I CAN’T.

It is the most secret, most secure facility in the world–it’s thousands of feet under New York City. And the research being done will make us all question our very place in the universe.

=========================

Sindy Chen

Staff Reporter, Big IdeaZ

 

My life will never be the same. The burden of the secret I know has made me question the meaning of existence itself.

 

Out of millions of journalists, I am the one that Project Starlight asks to come for a visit.

 

Project Starlight. I’ve never heard of it and likely you haven’t either. You will find no mention of it in any government documents or reports. You will find no mention of it on social media. You will never find it mentioned in the darkest reaches of the internet. No conspiracy theories. Nothing. This is truly incredible because Project Starlight is working on the most important finding of all time.

 

I exaggerate not. There is no embellishment in what I am saying. We depend on the devotion of these scientists to maintain reality as we know it.

 

The elevator ride takes thirty minutes to reach our destination. I wish they had warned me before we started because I need to use the bathroom by the time we reach the bottom. My escort is silent all the way down, refusing to acknowledge me, never mind answering questions. The doors open to reveal a huge concrete area. It looks like a factory floor with machinery and equipment buzzing around. And behind all the action is a set of three massive steel doors. They are easily thirty feet high. Behind them is the universe’s greatest secret, I have been told.

 

We approach the guard post, controlling the doors. My escort and I hand over our security cards and asked to place our faces in an oval mold. I’m told not to move for my retina scan, and they sampled my DNA from my breath to confirm who I am. The guard nods that we cleared.

 

With that, a voice comes over a loudspeaker telling everyone to stand back as the doors rotate open. They are at least twenty feet thick with cylinders that interlock them. There is no force in the world that could make those doors move unless they want to.

 

I am met by an old friend. Dr. Brandon Hawkins and I met at Brown University. I was studying journalism while he was in Theoretical Physics. He smiles, says how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other, and gives me a big hug. I ask him why I’m here. It’s obvious not to catch up on old times.

 

“I’ve invited you here to blow your mind,” he says.

 

Brandon waves off the escort and guides me through the doors. I am at a loss to describe what I see. As Brandon tells me, the glass corridor we are walking through is taking us through the middle of “The Machine”, which he says in a solemn and yet mocking tone. There are tubes, wires, lights, and who knows what else I can see. There is one tube that catches my eye. It contains a pulsing light that rushes along it. Brandon tells me it generates the field that protects us from the reality of our situation.

 

The reality of our situation? What does that even mean?

 

“I have invited you here to blow your mind.”

 

“It will all be clear in a few minutes,” he says. Despite the complexity of what they do down here, the explanation, he tells me, is simple enough but takes time to believe.

After an hour’s tour of the facility, Dr. Brandon and I reach the control room.

 

This is where it gets real.

 

Brandon introduces me to the research and technical team. They all look at me in awe, as if I am an extraterrestrial or perhaps a movie star. Out of the crowd, one woman approaches. Dr. Avery Moore.

 

“This is an incredible event, meeting you finally,” she says.

 

More and more, I feel this is not just a visit for me as more of the team members come forward and introduce themselves like they are meeting a rock star. I’m not sure how to take this.

 

This is when Brandon asks if I want a seat. They have something to tell me. I take the offered seat because it feels like I am about to be told God exists and here he is.

I wish that was what they tell me.

 

“Over thirty years ago, a group of researchers working at a lab in Los Alamos, New Mexico discovered a disturbing pattern,” Brandon started. “The world seemed to blink out of existence, then come back. No one was aware of this non-existence. And it happened regularly. The way they discovered it was with microscopic variables in their quantum measurements. Variables at the smallest levels they could observe at the time and, since then, observed even further down into the quantum realm.”

 

The crowd of scientists and technicians continues to stare at me in awe. I shift in the chair uncomfortably as the attention is beyond unnerving.

 

“What we have found since then is that the existence we believe in is a lie. Reality is a relative thing. It depends on one factor and one factor alone.”

 

Brandon stared into my eyes, telling me he was being honest and open about what was being said.

 

“That one factor is you.”

 

I don’t know how to respond. It sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world.

 

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe, and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

 

I check to see if I’m asleep or dreaming. I then check for exits. If everyone believes this, then they are the craziest group of people I have ever met. I have interviewed god-like dictators, world-ending cultists, and flat earthers. This beats them all.

 

“I know. It sounds insane. Beyond insane, but it is true. Before you, there was nothing. Before your first conscious moment, there was no existence. Now all of reality only exists when you are conscious. Every time you go to sleep, whether it’s grabbing a quick nap or a good night’s sleep, everything disappears. There is only you and a void until you wake up again and everything returns.”

 

Insanity, pure insanity.

 

“It’s all true. Our past, our present, every star, every planet, every particle exists because you do. Our work here is simple. We want to ensure that reality will continue to exist once you,” he pauses, looking for the right words, “pass on. Right now, once you are dead, we and everything for billions of light years in space and time will disappear forever.”

 

I blink. People seem to jump for a moment as if they believe what Brandon is telling me.

 

“Don’t worry, that pulsing light you saw when you came in, that’s a field that we have created that separates us from you. In here, we do not disappear when you lose consciousness for whatever reason. Our goal is to extend this field either indefinitely or collapse it around you. Until then, you could go out tonight, choke on a peanut, and it’s all over for everything from the quantum level on up to the universe.”

 

It’s then I notice the two large digital clocks running in the room. One is counting up and the other counting down.

 

“The one counting up is your current age. The one counting down is the estimated amount of time you have left in your life. That’s our deadline and we are so close to reaching our goal.”

 

How did this all happen? How can it be true? What about my mom? Didn’t she give birth to me? She must have existed before me.

 

“What we have unravelled so far is that you merely can into being. You were never born. That is, what we call, Permanent Transient Construct. At the moment of creation, your subconscious created a mother that gave you birth, a father that had sex with your mother, vocations or careers that they had, an extended family, people, nations, the world, the universe, and history to fill it all in. As you have grown older, your subconscious has created more of this PTC. The problem is that your conscious mind is maintaining this construct. Thus, when you go to sleep, it all stops because your conscious mind stops. We and everything else disappear and it creates a void. Not even nothing, an actual void where even nothing is not real. You wake up in the middle of the night and suddenly we are back. You fall back to sleep, and we are gone again. We do not notice this because your subconscious fills in the parts we need.”

 

If they have kept me in the dark this long, then why tell me about this now?

 

“Because the risk levels of your activities have increased significantly over the last year. The countdown clock has decreased. The meter we have measuring risk factors and the chances of you dying early has gone into the red. You have entered a kind of midlife crisis where you are questioning yourself and then challenging yourself to make you feel alive. We had little choice but to bring you here and tell you the truth.”

It was hours and maybe days that Brandon and his team show me the evidence. I refused to believe it until I finally did.

 

Everything exists because I do. Unlike what many people think, I am the centre of the universe. The centre of reality. Time, space, and the consciousness of trillions upon trillions of beings are all because of me. Every atom, every particle, all of it. It’s me.

 

This is a lot of pressure to put on someone who is only thirty-eight years old. It is taking time to adjust to my responsibility, but I am.

 

I don’t know how long I will be down here in Project Starlight. I have now agreed to stay safely confined so that you and everything else may be. Brandon and his team tell me they could be mere months away from finding the solution. Until then, I will stay here until the world is truly safe from me.

As the 2nd largest economy, China’s admission to the CPTPP is good news for the world.

Unlike the US still having those “cowboy imperialist / hooligan mentality” full of “killer and war-mongering instinct” to rule the world, China is not interested to rule the world only to sincerely advocate peace among countries focusing on economic and infrastructure development via “genuine soft power”.

The international community have crystal clear eyes to see that with more than 5,000 years of history, civilisation and culture, China / Chinese are peace loving people after enduring and suffering from centuries of civil wars, WWII from Japan, opium war and century of humiliation from US and the West to be extremely sick of wars.

Unlike the arrogant and aggressive US-led cowboy wild wild West, fond of using forceful means to coerce, intimidate, colonise many countries to blindly follow their unsuitable and inapplicable “western political ideology” China is not interested to be militarily powerful to dominate the world but focus more on the economy to just do what is vital, necessary and essential for the good sake of the world and mankind in a civilised, mature and responsible manner based on justice, righteousness and equality.

China (中国 – Middle Kingdom) / Chinese people have wisdoms, cultures, principles, billion pairs of crystal clear eyes coupled with more than 5,000 years of history to see for themselves and understand that most vital for any country is to have reliable, responsible, rational, sincere and serious leaders to govern the country regardless of political ideology.

China today is well managed by CCP under Xi not only contributed significantly to China over the decades but also to the international community to develop the infrastructure and economies to improve their livelihoods of poor countries all over the world especially in far away Africa and South America.

(Chinese President Xi Jinping presented the Friendship Medal to Dilma Rousseff, ahead of the 75th founding anniversary of the People’s Republic of China, on September 29, 2024.)

It’s high time now for the international community to wake up with crystal clear eyes to see the true colours, hypocrisy and Ugly Sides of America (USA) to adopt the Global Security Initiative (GSI) initiated by President Xi of China to uphold the vision of common, comprehensive, cooperative and sustainable security, pursues the long-term objective of building a security community, and advocates a new path to security featuring dialogue over confrontation, partnership over alliance and win-win over zero-sum.

The GSI embodies the core tenets in the vision of a community with a shared future for mankind, and has been warmly received by the international community upon its introduction. Over 80 countries and regional organizations have expressed their appreciation and support.

China’s foreign policy is always consistent to be friendly to all other countries in the world and China have full diplomatic relations with 179 countries out of 192.

In its foreign policy, China emphasizes the principle of non-interventionism. As a corollary, China asserts that other countries must not involve themselves in matters that China deems as its own domestic affairs.

The Five Principles China’s foreign policy are: mutual respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, mutual non-aggression, non- interference in each other’s internal affairs, equality and mutual benefit, and peaceful coexistence.

The Pattern Library

A collection of free, downloadable patterns for use in design projects. It’s a great resource for designers or anyone looking for unique patterns.

Patterns

Some examples of the content…

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Does the Past Still Exist?

Ah. She’s on the verge of “getting it”.

I don’t think anybody is actually against CEOs making “large” salaries, but in the US, they don’t just make large salaries, they make grotesquely large salaries, here is the problem…

Are CEOs in the US really that much better than any other country? NO.

What has happened to business in the US since the Reagan era is that publicly traded companies in the US have basically become one big grift. The board is filled with CEOs of other companies that then rubber stamp insane pay packages for each other, give each other ridiculous golden parachutes so that even if they tank the company, they have to be paid tens of millions of dollars just to leave.

The grift extends well beyond CEO pay. Since the regulations on stock buybacks was lifted, which was rightfully seen as stock price manipulation, companies have been free to juice their stock, instead of investing back into the company. You get $100m in profits, you buy stock back which then make the remaining shares more valuable and gets rewarded by WallStreet with more investment.

The ONLY thing that drives publicly traded companies in the US is stock price, which means they are de facto controlled by WallStreet. What WallStreet wants, the CEO delivers. WallStreet wants layoffs in order to keep profits at a certain level, so massive layoffs have become normal, not because a company is losing money or headed in the wrong direction, because they want to juice the numbers to make profits look artificially higher or losses artificially lower. This used to be rare, now it’s a tool in the CEO arsenal used with disturbing ease.

What you are seeing is someone elected by the board to run a company, who is then given a HUGE amount of money for doing so, then is told to make their paymasters on WallStreet pleased, which doesn’t give two shits about the health or longevity of the company, just this quarter’s profits. This is what they do, which in case you weren’t sure, the things you do to juice stock price and artificially inflate profits are often diametrically opposed to good health and longevity of a company. This means having at best indifferent and often hostile attitude towards employees, it means cutting costs at ever level, which often results in an inferior product, it means screwing over your loyal customers because it’s temporarily more profitable to do so.

You want to know why things aren’t made as well as they used to be or why companies don’t have the same level of customer service as they once did or why employers don’t give out a golden watch to long term employees? It’s because all they care about is stock price. They don’t care if you give 30 loyal years of service, they’ll lay you off without a second’s hesitation if it would mean having .001% improvement in profits or simply because WallStreet approved of the gesture and rewarded them by not selling off their shares.

That’s the problem with modern CEOs. They are part of one big grift. The people that control the way a company is run is not people with any long-term interest in that company. It’s some ass hats on WallStreet that want to have fun juicing the stock and will gladly sell tomorrow when things go South. The highly paid CEOs do as they are told and are handsomely rewarded. If they push things too far and the stock goes down, no worries, you can just get rid of the CEO by paying him tens of millions, pick another stooge, everyone feels good, stock price goes up and the grift just keeps on going.

Proof Positive

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

John K Adams

Howard Marks drove onto the Sequentrix Industries’ lot. He’d successfully passed the security gate. The sun had dipped behind the mountain. It felt like he’d driven forever up endless winding roads. ‘Thank God for GPS.’The unassuming low-rise building built into the hillside was a former Buddhist monastery.He’d been called there but not informed of his purpose. He had lots of questions.Not sci-fi, Sequentrix was the most secure research lab in the world. Most didn’t know it existed. Fewer knew its purpose. Hardly anyone knew its location. Yet its government funding exceeded many better known labs. Sequentrix Industries’ administrators had deep connections to Washington D.C. purse strings and power brokers.Located outside of Denver, no one knew how far their network of tunnels penetrated the mountain. A huge dish antenna gathered transmissions from orbiting satellites and beyond.Knowledgeable people presumed Sequentrix Industries researched bioweapons, or worse. Of course, they had their fingers in that. Its research spanned the range of scientific inquiry from quantum physics and into the cosmos. They had money to do anything they wished.Being a world-class journalist, and feared by the powerful, Howard’s summons there surprised him. Research labs avoid publicity, especially Howard Marks’ brand. He knew how to dig for the truth and how to publicize it. This unsolicited invitation piqued his curiosity.Howard traveled wherever the story led. He uncovered frauds and investigated the veracity of ‘conspiracy theories.’ Known internationally, he exposed conmen, politicians, crooks and cult leaders. No one preying on the public felt safe under his scrutiny. His outstanding work had received many awards.Despite death threats he traveled alone. Body guards are cumbersome and draw attention. ‘Moving targets must move quickly.’ Always on the move, he called his suitcase home.Howard’s encyclopedic knowledge enabled him to shine a light where others didn’t dare. He shredded the veil spun by PR hacks and propagandists. His broad fan base sought his incisive and witty essays in print and on social media. He’d recently appeared for interviews on cable news.“My fans are my family,” said Howard in interviews. He kept his personal life private. His family and past had been erased. Rumors of a girlfriend always proved to be empty speculation.No one knew Howard’s spiritual views. Or that he had any. A famous skeptic, his unsentimental skewering of the powerful made most presume an atheistic bent. Someone seeing him in a church pew wouldn’t consider it evidence of faith. Rather, they’d anticipate his debunking some preacher’s wild-eyed prophesies. A clear-eyed champion of the truth, few considered Howard a seeker of divine guidance.His appointment being scheduled for the evening, Howard knew it wasn’t management’s call. The exterior lights came on as he walked across the nearly empty lot.‘What’s this about? Someone gone rogue?’On entering the lobby, Howard encountered a series of security checks. He got frisked, endured wands, and stood for a full body scan… the usual that any airline traveler puts up with, times twelve. He knew cameras watched every movement. How many spooks stared at how many monitors?He stifled a laugh thinking of those running this gauntlet on a daily basis. ‘Are the toilets monitored?’ He knew the restrooms were. ‘But the toilets?Passing an inspection’ takes on new meaning.’Security personnel were not authorized to answer questions or make conversation. Cordial but impersonal, they efficiently moved each visitor to the next station. A smile or a human response could suggest compromised personnel. The cameras watched them too.He made a mental note. ‘Do story on security training standards and the people hired into this growing industry.’While passing through the final checkpoint, a man in a suit approached.“Hi. I’m Malcolm. I’ll guide your tour this evening.”They shook hands.Howard said, “I have an appointment – with Matthias?”

“Yes. We’ll get to him.”

Malcolm led Howard down a brightly lit, corridor and pointed at closed doors. He offered vague, but enthusiastic descriptions of what took place behind each.

Howard knew such delaying tactics well. He wanted Matthias or someone to explain his purpose there. But he kept his frustration in check. He’d found many great stories at the ends of similar rabbit holes.

He had no idea what to expect. Theoretical, or Astrophysics wasn’t a typically scandal ridden. ‘Too many fingers in the cookie jar? Happens all the time.’

Malcolm pushed the down button by the elevator door. He and Howard stepped in. Malcolm pushed the B-7 button and stepped out. The doors shut and the elevator descended.

Howard hoped this was a good thing.

When the door opened, a man in shirt sleeves entered the corridor. Howard saw a bank of super computers in the room behind him.

The man said, “I’m Matthias. Follow me.”

Howard stopped. “Wait. You’re not Matthias. You’re… Not you again. I told you we can’t work together. No more stories blowing up with my name on them.”

He turned to the elevator.

“Howard, wait. This will interest you.”

“Not if you’re involved.”

“It could change the world.”

Howard paused and nodded. He didn’t need to like those he worked with. As a rule, he expected to dislike them. His first priority was getting the story.

Matthias led Howard into the computer room.

Howard watched him. ‘Sometimes even bad pennies pay off. Follow the money.’

Matthias pointed and said, “This is the A-Omega-7 Triple Helix computer. It’s dedicated solely to my experiments. Take a look at our most recent results.”

He handed Howard several folders and pointed to a chair at a table. Opening each in turn, the abstracts were eye opening. Two papers analyzed deep space data reaching back to the Big Bang. The other paper’s topics were impenetrable.

Big Bang, entanglement, weak force, quark – Howard knew the words. But what they meant in context bewildered him – a fact he kept to himself.

“You want me to translate this into English?”

“As only you can.”

“I’m not a physicist. Find someone else.”

“You’re the best. And I owe you.”

Howard nodded and thought, ‘You do owe me. But that was long ago. And we were both victims of circumstance.’

Howard admitted to himself the research was over his head. Hoping for clarity, he scanned down to the abstracts’ conclusions.

After each, he looked up in wonderment. Matthias nodded and smiled.

Matthias said, “Each of these would have stunned Einstein. His work implied this but even he didn’t dream…”

“I’m not sure… You have fingerprints…?”

“Not only. If this were a paternity test, we have His DNA, so to speak, His signature on the birth cert and His address.”

Howard couldn’t hide his confusion.

“The upshot… we have proof.” Matthias raised his arms in triumph.

Howard spread the folders across the table. “But of what? What does this…?”

“God!”

“God?”

“Yes! The Creator. The Almighty. Maker of all things… proof He exists!”

Howard scanned the room in awe. He said, “But wait. You need proof? Isn’t it self-evident? Look around…”

Matthias didn’t listen. “Don’t you get it? When other sites replicate our findings, it will be irrefutable.”

“Yeah, but… well… Welcome to the party.”

“So, the reason I called you in – I need to leak this.”

Howard shook his head. “You can’t leak…”

“It’ll get more attention if people think the government is suppressing vital…”

“I cannot write about it, Matthias.”

“Why not? This is completely under wraps. I’m handing you the scoop of the millennium.”

“We’d lose credibility. It’s not news.”

“Even when the results get objectively confirmed?”

“Maybe especially then. You understand the implications?”

“Of course. You must release this. It will change the world.”

“It might end it.”

Now Matthias looked confused.

Howard sighed, “Look, let’s say you’re right about this earth-shattering news. Everyone will claim your work as their sacred scripture. Wars for possession will rage. They’d claim it points to their god.”

Matthias shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one owns this. It’s a matter of who belongs to God, not the other way around.”

“Sure. Right in principle. But we’re talking about humans here. People always create God in their own image. Reduce the sublime to the ridiculous. These documents would become idols to fight over.”

Matthias saw his point. He stepped back, sobbed and wiped his eyes.

Howard continued. “Once published, critics will claim a misplaced comma disproved your evidence. Thrown out because a zero should have been a one.”

“A typo is easily fixed. The results stand. Once vetted and replicated, people will unite around truth.”

“Believers will say ‘you cannot test God,’ or subject Him to proofs. Confining Him in a computer – an abomination… a fool’s game.”

Matthias opened the electrical panel. “My life’s work… Should I destroy it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Relax Matthias. Look. Some people see a magician pull a trick and won’t believe it’s sleight of hand. Others witness some historical event – like the moon landing – and can’t accept it really happened.”

“I called you in. You seek the truth.”

“Thank you for that. But the truth is out there. Everywhere. For everyone. Written in the stars.” He held up a folder. “These bits and bytes will neither convince a doubter nor confirm the believer. We’re throwing noodles, hoping something sticks.”

Matthias paced in frustration. “You think this is meaningless?”

“Of course not. But God doesn’t need our assistance. He needs the faithful. And their faith weighs more than proof.”

Matthias paused. He flipped through the reports.

“What if these discoveries bolstered people’s faith? This might knock some off the right side of the fence.”

Howard considered the question. Vague, unfocused spirituality was ascendant and deep belief had become an afterthought. ‘Thousands of denominations and no one goes to church.’

“You have a point, Matthias. Everyone’s hot to ‘follow the science’ these days. What if science points to, bows to God?”

“That would open some eyes. Hoped you’d see it my way.”

They nodded. Understanding settled in. Howard cleared the table. Matthias brought a legal pad and some pens.

“Coffee?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ll make fresh.”

~

Not yet visible, the sun had brightened the sky by the time Howard left the facility and walked to his rental car.

They had a plan. Howard carried a thumb drive containing the essential reports and abstracts of Matthias’ profound discovery. Matthias trusted Howard to leak it at a time of his choosing. He needn’t wait for the results of other site’s vetting of the data.

Howard smiled. The truth has a way of coming to light.

NEET LIFE

Mexican Stuffed Peppers

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Ingredients

  • 4 Anaheim chiles
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 envelope taco seasoning mix
  • 1 package shredded cheese
  • 1 can enchilada sauce
  • 1 medium to large baking dish

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Brown ground beef.
  3. While beef is browning, cut the top off the Anaheim peppers. Slice down one side of each pepper. De-vein and de-seed chiles to flavor (The more you leave in, the hotter it is!)
  4. Add taco seasoning to beef when properly brown and prepare based on directions on taco seasoning package.
  5. Place pepper, sliced side up, in a medium to large pan for baking. Stuff each pepper with meat and cheese.
  6. Cover all with enchilada sauce. Cover (or don’t – depends on who is cooking) dish and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
  7. Remove from oven and serve.

My weight.

I realize that I’m not really overweight, in spite of what my BMI says.

But I’ve put on 5 kg since the end of med school, and I wish I hadn’t.

It’s not that I think that I’m unhealthy right now; it’s just that if I keep gaining 5 kg every 4 years, things are not going to be looking good in 20 years.

At the end of med school, I weighed about 85 kg. That had been a stable weight. But, during my intern year of residency, we had unlimited, free food at the hospital cafeteria. When you’re really stressed out, and you can have as much food as you want without paying for it, you’re going to eat a lot, if you’re like most people. I was like most people. I gained 3 kg within a year.

I was at that stable weight for a bit, then I saw myself steadily creep towards 90 kg. That’s where I was when I traveled to Europe last summer. It had been a long while since I had been in a place when huge supply of my favorite pastry, the lovely pain-aux-raisins.

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So I ate, ate, and ate some more. By the time I came back, I weighed 92 kg.

I’m a physician. I don’t eat all that much. Most days, I have a peculiar form of intermittent fasting where I skip breakfast and either eat a very light lunch or skip it altogether. But I can’t control myself at dinner. Dinner has been my favorite meal for as long as I can remember. And it was my love of large dinners that first made me decide to eat much less at lunch time.

Once upon a time, I was so poor that there was only so much food I could afford. Most meals would consist of Ramen noodles, a chicken drumstick, and a hard-boiled egg. I’d do that twice a day, add some yogurt and cereal, and that would be my entire caloric intake for the day. It’s very hard to get fat on that.

But now, I have to deny myself things I can afford. I also have to deny myself large portions of things I’ve already bought. That last part is even harder. I tell myself that I need to eat it, lest it should go bad. That’s my excuse. I also tend to shop at Costco, where everything is supersized. I should probably cut their steak and salmon portions in half. But I don’t. And so, much as I try to limit my caloric intake, I find that it is all I can do to maintain my current weight.

Basically, it’s as though I feel that I’ve already sacrificed quite enough—thank you very much—and I’m not about to deprive myself of any more food, which is quite possibly my greatest joy in life.

And so, the struggle continues.

The entire high-end fine art market is one gigantic money laundering scheme.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate art. I’m an academically trained artist, I absolutely appreciate art. And I totally support paying for good art.

But there’s a difference between paying 2000 dollars for an oil painting book cover and paying 6.2 million dollars for a fucking banana duct-taped on the wall.

Yes, yes, I understand the value of fine art is entirely subjective. And isn’t that the perfect front for money laundering?

When I was in China, I heard of this story.

A government official had the power to select the construction company for lucrative infrastructure projects. In his home, he had a display case filled with beautiful jade antiques. One day, a CEO of a construction come visit the government official, and just so happened, the CEO saw this one jade pendant in the official’s antique collection, and he just had to have it. The government official was reluctant to part with his favorite collection, but eventually the CEO made him a cash offer he could not refuse. A few weeks later, the construction company won the infrastructure project.

It wasn’t a bribe, the pendant was a unique antique, priceless. The CEO was lucky to have it. It doesn’t matter none of the items in that display case is actual antiques, but does it matter? The value of the antique is subjective, after all.

That’s how high-end fine art market works. Some snooty “critics” and “curators” with a fine art degree decided this artwork worth 1 million dollars, because “artistic merit” or “unique” or “revolutionary” or “innovative” or “raw”… whatever. And people just pay 1 million dollars for it.

I have a fine art degree, and I think fine art is great. If you truly love it, you should pay for it. You would bring it home, hang it on the wall, and it would fill you with joy, delight your guests, and make you ponder about life. The artwork would be worth every penny you pay for it. That’s what art should be. That’s where its value should come from: its impact on an individual person and/or on our society.

But modern fine art market, those random artworks that sell for millions upon millions of dollars, changing hands from one anonymous buyer to another, being put on display for a few selected rich people, or being stored in some warehouse. People don’t see artworks as artworks. They see it as an “investment.” That’s not art about.

So this is not me shitting on studying, making, selling, and purchasing fine art; this is me shitting on the emperor’s new closet full of expensive, invisible garments.

The entire high-end fine art market is one big money laundering scheme.

Tool Porn Post

Inside 'Delete A', China's plan to 'delete everything America in technology’ - Times of India

How many people have heard of DELETE AMERICA Or DELETE A?

Very few

It doesn’t do many rounds on Mainstream Western Media

China is creating an atmosphere where anything American is to be phased out ENTIRELY

Target dates are 31/12/2025, 31/12/2027 and 31/12/2030 depending on different technologies

Here are some major decisions :-

  • Microsoft Windows Ecosystem fully phased out from Grade I – Grade III Government Organizations and replaced with KYLIN (By 30/9/2024)
  • Intel & AMD processors fully phased out from Grade I – III Organizations and replaced with Longson Processors (By 30/9/2024)
  • Samsung SSDs with SK Hynix commenced phase out from Grade I – III Organizations and replaced with Huawei SSDs with YMTC (Begun 1/1/2024 , Target Date 31/12/2027)
  • Cisco Equipment fully phased out from Grade I – III Organizations and replaced with Huawei & ZTE Equipment (By 1/1/2023)
  • Grade I – III include Military, Quasi Military , JV Military, Civilian Airspace, Civilian Air Traffic, Civilian Transportation, Civilian Airports, Civilian Railways & Civilian Power Distribution among other things

Here are other things :-

  • US Exports formed 9.4% of Chinas GDP Growth in 2015. Now it’s 2.3% in 2023. Dependence on US Exports for Economic Growth has fallen by 75% in the past decade
  • Workforce related to US Exports peaked at 1.81 Million in 2016. Now it’s 870,000 – down by more than 50% in the past 8 years
  • Chinas Brand Value sales to the Global South stands at a whopping $ 112.6 Billion versus a paltry $ 11.6 Billion in USA. This means Chinese Brands sales in US is a mere $ 12 Billion versus more than $ 113 Billion across the rest of the world. By contrast US Brands sales in China is close to $ 212 Billion versus $ 411 Billion with the rest of the world (Non US). This means 33% of Sales of US Brands depend on China whereas only 9.60% of Sales of Chinese Brands depend on USA.
  • In fact if you see Chinese Brands sales in ASEAN is $ 38.2 Billion, almost 3.5 times their US sales
  • The Top 15 US Brands – made $ 104.20 Billion for the US Economy in 2023 from China . The Top 15 Chinese Brands made a mere $ 10.81 Billion for the Chinese Economy from USA.
  • Chinas dependence on US Technology for its Industrial High Grade Processes is 38% as of 2023 June whereas US Dependence on China for its High Grade Manufacturing Supply Chain is almost 70%. So US dependence on China is TWICE the Chinese dependence on US

It is China that is decoupling from US and Europe

In fact China is preparing to raise massive stimulus to encourage boost in domestic consumption so that by 2027, Chinas Export contribution to GDP falls to less than 15% and US Export contribution to GDP falls to less than 1%


So whatever happens – every move by US against China is programmed to backfire worse against the US

Shocking Truth of South Korean Coup

The details are coming out. Biden “presidency” really were being bad during the last few months.

A friend just shared this, and it’s too funny!

MONTANA STATE TROOPER

In many places in the U.S., when the temperature drops really low, they check on any cars stuck on the side of the road.

One very cold morning, at 3 AM, Montana State Trooper Allan Nixon #658 got a call about a car off the road near Great Falls, Montana.

He found the car stuck in deep snow with the engine still running. After pulling up behind it with his lights flashing, the trooper walked up to the driver’s door and found an older man passed out in the driver’s seat with a nearly empty vodka bottle beside him.

The driver woke up when the trooper tapped on the window. Seeing the lights and the trooper next to his car, the man panicked and shifted into drive, hitting the gas.

The speedometer showed the car going 20, 30, 40, and then 50 MPH, but it was still stuck in the snow, wheels spinning. Trooper Nixon, with a good sense of humor, started running in place next to the car like he was keeping up.

The driver was freaked out, thinking the trooper was actually running 50 miles per hour. After about 30 seconds, the trooper yelled, “PULL OVER!”

The driver quickly turned the wheel and stopped the engine. Of course, the man from North Dakota was arrested, and I bet he’s still shaking his head over the trooper who could run 50 MPH.

Who says cops don’t have a sense of humor?

Sounds right

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An EXTREMELY good video.

I grew up in a violent household. My father was an alcoholic, and beat my mother, and us kids. I started to get the best of him by my mid teens, and put a stop to the beatings by the time I was 17.

I was working in dead end jobs, in my hometown outside of Buffalo, New York. The rich kids went to College. The poor kids looked to the Military.

Two weeks after turning 18, I enlisted in the Air Force. I was looking to get out of the harsh Winters of Buffalo, and to start a new life.

I had just missed Vietnam. Saigon fell to the Communists two months before I turned 17. The Cold War was still ongoing, so in 1976, I signed up to be a Nuclear Weapons Specialist. I was on Active Duty (1976-1981.) I spent three years in England, serving on American Occupied RAF Bases. I traveled all over Europe and the United Kingdom in my off time.

I completed one year’s worth of College Credits, attending Night Classes with the University of Maryland (European Campus.) After getting out of the Air Force, I attended College on the G.I. Bill. All of $341 per month. I graduated with an A.S. Degree in Exotic Animal Training and Management.

I had a good first career as a Wild Animal Trainer, Elephant Trainer, and Zookeeper. I first trained Wild Animals for movies and television in Hollywood. Then, I became an Elephant Trainer at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. Eventually, I worked with the California Condors. I did that work up until my forties.

Joining the Air Force allowed me to get out and see some of the World. Getting out of snowy Buffalo. And leaving my violent upbringing behind. It gave me a fresh start in life. It is one of the best things I ever did.

Utter Annihilation! With Surrender Deadline Past, Promised Bombing Has Begun in Kursk, Russia

UPDATED 1:40 PM STAURDAY -- Utter Annihilation! With Surrender Deadline Past, Promised Bombing Has Begun in Kursk, Russia

Yesterday, this website reported that the Russian Army has completely encircled Ukrainian forces inside Kursk, Russia.

Those Ukrainians were given until “Dawn” this morning to surrender, or else Fuel Air Bombing would begin.

The deadline has now passed; the bombing has begun.

Ukraine forces in Kursk, Russia, are being annihilated.

In our prior coverage (Story Here) we pointed out that over 1,000 Ukrainian troops, out of the 4700 – 6300 trapped in Kursk, were already seeking to surrender, and were offering New weapons, provided by the US and France, encrypted communications gear, and other military hardware, as inducements to Russia to allow them to surrender.

It is not yet known if those troops did, in fact, surrender, or how many western weapons systems the Russians have now received from those troops.

As each minute passes today, more and more Fuel-Air (Thermobaric) Bombs are being dropped on the remaining Ukrainian troops.

None are expected to survive the onslaught.

From Napoleon to Hitler, history shows that such is the fate of any force that invades Russia.

 

UPDATE 11:54 AM EST —

Ukrainian Forces are collapsing faster than expected. There are reports of a disorganized withdrawal with high casualties and large groups of Ukrainian soldiers being left behind.

UPDATE 1:40 PM EST —

Yesterday, Ukraine controlled 360 square kilometers of Kursk, Russia.  As of three hours ago, that was CONFIRMED down to “less than 230 square kilometers” and dropping fast.  As Russian troops enter bombed-out areas,  they confirm Ukrainian troops are all dead, then count that area as being back under Russia control.   According to one Russian source, “There are far more bombed-out areas to survey, and the bombings continue.   Kursk may be disinfected of the Ukrainian disease by tonight.”

It should be noted that Hitler tried taking Kursk in 1943.  His NAZI forces were roundly defeated.   It is noteworthy that some of the dead Ukrainians found in Kursk today – have NAZI “SS” patches on their helmets.  Just as dead now, as Hitler’s troops were in 1943.  See image below:

Kursk 1943 2025
Kursk 1943 2025

Since the morning publication on the situation in the Kursk region, the situation for Ukrainian formations has worsened even more. Russian troops have increased the pressure in several areas at once, and the Ukrainian Armed Forces are rapidly retreating from the front lines, abandoning the wounded and equipment.

Lebedevka, Okhotnichy, Loknya have been finally liberated. The nearby forest belts are being cleared of enemy remnants. The enemy has been trying to escape towards Sudzha for over a day, and from there to Yunakovka along the only road.

To the north of Sudzha, Russian army fighters have completely liberated Malaya Loknya, Kositsa and Cherkasskoye Porechnoye. The Ukrainian Armed Forces are running across the fields to Sudzha under artillery and FPV drone fire.

To the north-east, the Ukrainians tried to go into counter-attack again, but to no avail. Airborne assault units cleared the forests and liberated Makhnovka, Mirny, Mykhailivka and Martynovka.

Now the battles are going on near Dmitryuki. Separate units of the Russian Armed Forces, which liberated Makhnovka, are already conducting an assault on the outskirts of Sudzha. After the loss of Dmitryuki (it is a matter of time), the situation of the Ukrainian Armed Forces will worsen significantly.

This will open the way to Sudzha, which will certainly cause chaos and disarray in the Ukrainian positions due to the fear of being trapped. The Ukrainian front is gradually falling apart, and the operation that was supposed to be a victory for Zelensky is turning into one huge farce.

Chipotle and Green Chile with Pork

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3fdbc665ced625d223ce921296430121

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 4 tablespoons butter
  • 2 pounds pork tenderloin, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper
  • 2 cups yellow onions, diced
  • 1/4 cup jalapeño chile, minced
  • 1 cup dried New Mexico green chiles, seeded, stems removed, and minced
  • 1/4 cup minced garlic
  • 1/4 cup roasted chipotle chiles, peeled and minced
  • 1 cup grated pepper jack cheese
  • 8 (6 inch) flour tortillas

Instructions

  1. In a stockpot, melt two tablespoons butter and heat.
  2. When the butter is hot, add pork, onions, jalapeño, New Mexico dried chiles, garlic, salt, and pepper. Cover and cook for 1 1/2 hours or until pork is tender.
  3. Add the chipotle chiles and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour.
  4. Grill the tortillas and brush with butter.
  5. Serve with grated pepper jack cheese on top.
  6. You want to spoon the chili onto your tortilla and roll up and eat.

At this point, I believe it impossible.

The reason why the US could compete and dominate the EU, Japan and Korea is scale, and the unnatural size o>f American influence, thanks primarily to the global reach of the Pentagon. That is why this map of AMERICAN NATIONAL SECURITY isn’t ridiculed.

The Eurodollar (or american dollars overseas) is another powerful tool. It has a dominant position in world finance.

However, along comes China, an economy that’s already 3/4 the size of the US, but resistant to US influence, either political, military or geoeconomic. China is peer competition, the same way George Foreman didn’t fold fighting Muhammad Ali.

China, at this point, has graduated into a system of systems builder, and is already a tool-maker of enabling technology.

What is a tool-maker?

In simple terms, the upstream technology that factories depend on for their production.

China isn’t just a maker of consumer end-products today. The Chinese have the world’s most complete supply chain, and Chinese companies are making the rapid climb into tool-making, such as robots, sophisticated precision machines, exotic nano-materials, and all kinds of IOT/ML/big data/AI thingmajigs.

In other words, China is rushing towards the cutting edge Industry 5.0.

It is the year 2023 and Huawei is already pushing 5.5G networks, with speeds up to 10x faster than 5G. That’s the speed of relentless progress driving innovation on the mainland.

It is the year 2023 and CRRC is testing 450kmh HSR rolling stock, allowing the export and technology transfer of the mature 350kmh Fuxing. China had 0km of HSR in 2006. Today, they have 40,000km, more than the rest of the world has managed over the last 60 years. Expect the network to grow in the coming decade.

[Note: Indonesia, Brazil and other third world countries will operate FASTER HSR trains than first world Japan, France and Germany in the coming decade. They will also deploy cellular 5G/6G technology in step with the first world, and perhaps even earlier, all thanks to the Chinese.]

Stepping up to bat with the manic energy of the Chinese requires the same or greater commitment of energy and resources. The first world has kept the rest of the world at bay with patent walls and unassailable leads, but the Chinese are overcoming the obstacles and making up lost ground rapidly. In some industries, the Chinese are already defining the cutting edge, and clear leaders.

The clear Chinese advantage is scale, and the ability to cluster and leverage supply chain ecosystems and innovation centers. That is why Huawei has its campus in Dongguan, a stone’s throw away from the mecca of China’s consumer electronics, Shenzhen. Huawei has unparalleled access to the latest innovations to drive product development. Whereas Apple designs in California, and contract manufactures an ocean away.

Once China catches up on the patent front, Chinese speed and scale will take care of the rest.

America can’t even do anything about its stale Constitution, and can only offer kick-a-canism for the age-old problems of guns, drugs and racism, while the infrastructure continue to decay at an astonishing rate. Social spending dominates the budget, an ever-increasing burden. The bigger problem is the overfinancialized economy that has been overreliant on cheap money. Intel blew 100 billion on stock buyback this century, while its manufacturing lead was steadily eroding. Today, the best Intel chips are no longer at the cutting edge node.

Same story with Boeing, and a host of household American names.

Prosperity breeds soft bellies.

I don’t believe it reversible, not without substantial (and prolonged) pain forcing American introspection.

Too much hubris.

And insufficient grasp of reality.

My God. This is brilliant.

They Always Find Us

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

Theo Benson

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Dr. Morrison held a small vial up to the light, amber liquid swirling inside. “After all our efforts, all of our sacrifices, we’re so close to a cure.”Isabelle held her datapad closer to the Doctor, determined to get as clear of an audio recording as possible. They had spent hours in Silver Grandeur’s lab. Her legs ached. With painstaking precision, Dr. Morrison walked Isabelle through all of the functions of Lab Section 1, explaining each device that helped to refine and prepare the contents of the vial in his hand. The soreness she’d feel later would be worth the story. Especially as a Junior Data Reporter.“Tell us, Doctor,” Isabelle said, shifting weight from one leg to another, “What’s the greatest challenge you’ve faced with Project Find?”“We’ve all lost people to the sickness, haven’t we?”Isabelle looked away.“No challenge is greater than that of grief,” Dr. Morrison said with a sad smile. “Yet their memory lives on in the work we accomplish.” He gingerly set the vial into its holder on the table in front of them. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Anything else?”“Yes,” Isabelle perked up. “About the beginning. How exactly did this-”A shudder rocked the ship. Lights flickered in the lab as Dr. Morrison and Isabelle steadied themselves against the table.“Seekers,” He muttered as the shaking subsided. Another, more violent shudder, nearly knocked Isabelle off her feet. The vials on the table clattered together. “They always find us.”Around them, scientists in lab coats hurried to secure loose items. Isabelle found herself being led towards the exit.“I’m sorry to cut this short,” the Doctor said, leading her out into the main hallway and shutting the door behind them. “I need to speak with the Captain before one of those things tears a hole in our outer hull again.”Isabelle pulled her father into a hug. “Be safe.”After watching Dr. Morrison race out of sight, she opened her hand and smiled at it. Seated in the palm of her hand was a grey access card. Her father’s. Slipping back inside the lab, Isabelle quickly donned a lab coat, mask, and goggles. Only a few scientists remained. Evidently, the rest had dispersed to secure other sections of Silver Grandeur’s large lab. She snuck to the back of Section 1, connecting her datapad to the lab’s information center – a port in the wall.The ship rocked again, and Isabelle steadied herself against the wall.She switched rapidly from catalogue to catalogue, searching. There had to be something more interesting here. Yes, her father had shown her this section of the lab, but she was not so naïve as to think this was all there was. Scientific breakthrough had to come from somewhere. And a good Data Reporter needed to be willing to break a few rules to find out.Isabelle paused on one catalogue.Project Find. It read. She inserted Dr. Morrison’s card into her datapad to open the file. Disappointment grew as she read. Most of the words made absolutely no sense. Yes, they were English. But no matter how hard Isabelle squinted at them and sounded them out under her breath, their meaning remained completely foreign.But then she spotted something she could understand.Successful creation of antidote and enhancement secured via genetic mesh.Below, it read; See Donor Subject File. Lab Section 13.She disconnected her datapad and pressed deeper into the lab.Another shudder shook Silver Grandeur. She began humming softly as she passed more labcoats, remembering the melody her mother would use to comfort her when she was little. After the Seekers first attacked.On its one-hundredth and fifty-second year of voyaging in space, five years after Silver Grandeur’s passengers were woken from cryo-sleep, the Seekers struck. So did the sickness.Deep space sickness, they called it.No one knew what caused it. Some blamed the Seekers, who appeared immune to the disease. With their arrival shortly preceding the first outbreak, they were easy to blame. Some claimed it was a result of extended cryo-sleep. Simply a scientific oversight. And others, the more religious of Silver Grandeur’s passengers, proclaimed it was judgement for their departure from God’s one true home for them – Earth. Apparently, extended cryo-sleep had conveniently allowed them to forget Earth’s death. Reduced to a desolate wasteland, their one true home forced what remained of humanity to flee.Her mother was one of the first to die from the sickness. Isabelle was ten at the time. Her father threw himself into a frenzy of work after his wife’s death, refusing to take inevitable death – either by sickness or by Seeker – as the final answer. Fifteen years had since passed.Isabelle reached the end of Section 12 and stopped. Before her lay a single door. Lab Section 13. Checking behind her to make sure no one was watching, Isabelle opened the door with Dr. Morrison’s access card and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.Cold air shocked her. Isabelle shivered. Section 13 was freezing, not to mention smaller than she expected. The room contained only a handful of control panels on either side of the door and a containment unit on the far wall that was coated in frost.Isabelle frowned. Was this the Donor Subject?She approached the unit and used her sleeve to wipe a patch of frost from the glass.A dark form moved inside.

Isabelle had seen Seekers before. Windows across the ship gave good view for those with a morbid enough interest to watch them attack. With a snouted maw filled with teeth, an excess of appendages tipped with claws, long wings, and sleek black bodies, they blended easily against the backdrop of space. Only when close enough to Silver Grandeur’s lights did the light of the ship reflecting off their bodies illuminate their presence. In darkness they did not exist.

She squinted at it. It was almost entirely obscured by the remaining frost and the condensation building inside her goggles. Isabelle steadied her breathing, excitement mounting as she removed her goggles to peer inside. She’d never seen one this close before.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Eyes, eyes that Seekers did not – should not – have, stared back at her.

It lunged.

Isabelle jerked backwards, slamming into the panels behind her. The creature thrashed against the glass and Isabelle glanced down in panic as a small alarm sounded on the panel just under her arm.

The sides of the containment unit hissed open.

Isabelle ran. Tearing metal echoed behind her.

She collided with a labcoat in Section 11. “Go! It’s out!” Not stopping to wait, she ran on through the lab, leaving the startled man behind. Several seconds later there was a scream. A loud crunch. And silence.

Lungs and legs burning, Isabelle burst into Section 1, the door sliding shut behind her. Several dozen scientists milled about, the ship’s shaking having since stopped.

“Run,” she said.

A few labcoats looked at her in confusion. Thudding behind the door she entered grew louder.

Isabelle tore off her mask, wheezing. “Run!”

The door she came through flew across the room, crushing a scientist against the wall. Standing a head taller than Isabelle, the creature that entered stood on legs rippling with sleek black muscle. Its head was surprisingly rounded, with something like the remnants of hair dotting the top of its head. It stretched tall and raised tensed arms, claws glinting in the lab’s harsh light. Opening its mouth, the creature let out a roar.

Scientists screamed and scattered.

Isabelle raced to the door leading into the rest of the ship. Several scientists followed. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and Isabelle careened to the side just in time to avoid a large metal table as it flew past her and smashed into the door. The labcoats weren’t as lucky.

An alarm blared in the lab. The scientist who activated it let out a blood-curdling scream from the center of the room as the creature charged him. It roared again, striking claws into both labcoat and control panel. Metal and flesh tore.

The lab was plunged into darkness.

Isabelle’s feet slid against the floor, a red emergency light flaring to life and pulsing slowly to illuminate the dark puddle she now stood in. She gagged, fighting to stay upright. Something struck her shoulder and Isabelle went down hard. A woman screamed beside her on the floor, having also fallen, and as the lights flashed Isabelle could make out a tall form to her right.

The creature crouched low. Isabelle scurried away as darkness returned. Crunching, twisting – a rending of flesh met her ears a few feet away, and warm liquid splattered her face. The woman’s screams fell silent.

She crawled as quickly as she could until she reached the lab’s wall. Feeling with slick hands along its surface, Isabelle’s fingers found purchase on the metal grooves of a vent grate. Hands shaking, she pulled off the clover, slipped inside the space just wide enough to hold her, and closed it. Cries of terror and agony dwindled one by one. Isabelle could hear them pounding against the crushed door, wailing as they realized it was too damaged to open. A body slammed against the vent grate and slumped to one side. Warm liquid began pooling next to Isabelle and she backed away. Shuffling quietly until she met a curve in the vent shaft, the young Data Reporter choked back tears. Now was not the time to cry.

A final voice cried out, and with that, the lab was silent.

Isabelle stopped.

Another sound had risen to fill the silence. A low vibration, somewhere between a growl and a hum came from the creature. She could feel the sound rumbling in her chest, deep in her lungs and heart, as though tugging on something. Carefully, she started moving again, crawling on slippery hands and knees.

Her knee skidded to the side and struck the vent shaft with a dull thunk. Isabelle steadied herself, holding her breath. She heard the grate tear free and clatter somewhere inside the lab.

Isabelle thrust herself around the bend, not caring how much noise she made now as the sounds of thudding and scraping behind her soon followed. With a cry of alarm, Isabelle’s weight-bearing hand slipped out from under her. Her head crashed against the side of the vent. Swaying awkwardly, Isabelle focused blurred vision up ahead.

Was it her imagination, or was there light around the next bend?

A growling hum propelled her forward.

Pulling with her arms, Isabelle slid around the final bend and was met by another grate leading down, light pouring from it. Every muscle in her body burned as she raised her hand and struck the grate.

It didn’t budge.

With a shriek, she brought her hand down against the grate again. And again and again and again.

CRASH.

Isabelle dropped to the floor below, pain bursting at her feet.

“HELP!” Her shout echoed as she limped quickly, turning right at an intersection in the hallway. “HEL-”

A closed blast door barring her path.

No.

She whirled around to see the creature dash into view.

No. No.

The creature skidded to a halt, muscles tensing. Bright hallway light finally illuminated the scarlet haphazardly painting both monster and woman. Isabelle’s back pressed against the door. It stalk towards her, moving with slow, purposeful steps. That of a hunter. That of one who knew its place in the pecking order.

Seekers. They always find us. 

Isabelle’s back slid until she met the ground. She turned her face away.

“Don’t hurt her!” A voice yelled. Her father’s.

Isabelle looked up in surprise. The creature turned to face Dr. Morrison, growling deep in its body and lifting its arms in a display.

“Don’t do this,” he said to the creature.

It roared.

Isabelle sobbed. “What is it?”

It roared again.

“Dad, what is it?”

His voice was even as he spoke. Measured carefully. “We acquired a Seeker’s DNA many years ago, hoping to find a cure. What we discovered was that they had so much more to offer us.” Dr. Morrison’s eyes flashed with something near-feral. “Strength, Izzy.” She watched through tear-streaked vision as he stepped to one side, the creature tracking his movement. “Strength we could never dream of acquiring on our own. We just needed to bridge the genetic gap.” Her father’s expression grew almost sad as he gazed at the creature. “Human experimentation was the only way. I’m sorry, dear.”

With a rippling of muscle the creature pounced. Isabelle forced her eyes to the ground as the sounds of carnage lifted to join that of the alarm. A sickening cacophony.

And then the carnage ceased.

Slow, thudding footsteps approached her. What had once been a growl dwindled to the lowest of vibrations. A soft humming. Isabelle looked at it with a start.

The creature’s face was close. Strings of sinew hung from red teeth, dripping blood onto Isabelle’s legs. As she looked above the horror of its maw, she saw its eyes. Familiar eyes. A memory pressed uninvited into Isabelle’s mind as the hum reverberated in her chest. Her mother, seated at the edge of Isabelle’s bed, the young girl cowering beneath her blankets as Silver Grandeur shuddered. Feeling a hand on her arm over the blanket, she listened to the melody of her mother’s tune as sleep finally overcame fear.

The creature knelt in front of Isabelle. Extending a single, blood-covered hand, it caressed the side of her face.

Isabelle’s eyes widened in shock. “Mom?”

Broccoli.

heavily abridged story below because I have no need to relive all this.

My ex was a normal and healthy 5’6” woman when we met at around age 20.

Everything was fine.

I worked and she Graduated college. She got a great job and the decline began.

She was making far more money than me but I was still forced to work full time and go to school.

Pretty sure the intent was to keep me unemployable.

  • She took 75% of my pay as “rent” for a house she bought and only put her name on.
  • She wouldn’t really grant me full rights to anything until I graduated college which she was working against.
  • She always had some stupid reason and I was tired from working 40+ hours and going to school.

*fast forward a few years*

I’m about to finally graduate college.

She has ballooned to over 400lbs. While I’ve started running half marathons at this point and I’m eating real food.

Every Friday night id make a nice dinner for 2. But, she would get fast food and eat it in front of the TV while I ate alone in the kitchen.

about the time they were cutting toes off her parents for diabetes and I was getting sick of watching everyone check their blood sugar at holidays.

I asked her to just try one of my prepped meals instead of getting fast food.

She was reluctant to eat fresh steamed broccoli with a little butter and some salt on it. After she finally forced it down- she then proceeded to “throw up” for 2 hours.

I went and looked for my own place the next day.

The end.

The Pudding

A digital publication that uses data to tell stories. They create visually engaging and insightful articles on a variety of topics, from pop culture to social issues.

The Pudding

Some examples of the content…

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screen 2024 12 14 14 44 33

This happened to me a few years ago on an SIA flight from Hong Kong to Singapore. I had an aisle seat when I got to to my assigned seat there was a woman in it. I politely told her that this was my seat. She just stared at me and said something in Mandarian “ Which I do not speak or understand “. I politely asked her again to move and she turned her head and faced towards the window. I went to the cabin pantry which wasn’t that far away and informed one of the cabin crew. The crew member was very polite and told me to take the middle seat across from my assigned seat till we were airborne and they would sort it out. Once airborne and the plane was flying steady The cabin crew member approached the lady. I could not understand the conversation between them it was obvious the lady wasn’t planning on exiting my seat. The cabin crew member brought in their supervisor to no avail. Shortly afterwards the the cabin crew sup approached me and told me that the lady refused to vacate the seat. They informed the first officer of the situation and he said that they will resolve the situation once on the ground in Changi. She apologised to me and asked me if I would stay in this seat for the remainder of the trip.

Once on the ground in Changi one of the cabin crew took my information down and said they will be in touch with me in a few days. When I deplaned I saw two SIA personnel speaking to the lady at the counter near the gangway. Fast forward three days later I received a call from SIA who apologised to me. They reimbursed me for my flight from HK to SIN. When I asked what happened to the lady the SIA agent told me that they do not give out information about ongoing incidents but it was elevated to airline security staff.

I never asked for reimbursement SIA offered it. I received an email from them apologising for the incident. Plus they gave me a voucher for SilverKris lounge for use during my next flight. I received the reimbursement pretty quickly within 96 hrs. Hope this helps out.

Will China Invade Taiwan? Kishore Mahbubani Reveals…

Wow! He calls it out exactly.

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Walmart asks Chinese suppliers to slash prices as it faces Trump tariffs: report

By Taylor Herzlich 
Published March 6, 2025, 10:32 a.m. ET

Walmart has been pleading with Chinese suppliers to lower their prices as it fears President Trump’s tariffs will inflate costs, according to a report.

Asian firms have pushed back after the big-box retailer asked some suppliers, including kitchenware and clothing manufacturers, to slash their prices as much as 20%, people familiar with the matter told Bloomberg.

The talks have been held with several manufacturers, and the requested price reductions have varied from firm to firm, according to the report.

Walmart has asked some Chinese suppliers to lower their prices as it faces President Trump’s tariffs, according to a report. REUTERS

Few have agreed to the hefty price cuts, which would force the Chinese suppliers to shoulder the burden of Trump’s tariffs, Bloomberg said.

“As we have done in the past, we will continue to work with suppliers to keep prices as low as possible for customers,” a Walmart spokesperson told The Post in a statement.

“In the meantime, we encourage all parties to work towards finding common ground that will protect consumers from price hikes and continue to grow our economy.”

Walmart declined to comment on reports that it was asking Chinese suppliers to lower prices.

Most of Walmart’s suppliers already operate on thin margins to allow the retailer to sell goods at affordable prices.

Lowering prices by more than 2% would result in a loss for some of these suppliers, sources told Bloomberg.

The average mark up to labor and materials in China is 3%. Anything over 2% is impossible. -MM

Meanwhile, vendors have denied requests from some of these Chinese suppliers to cut their prices more than 3%, so manufacturers are considering turning to Vietnam for cheaper parts, a source told Bloomberg.

Trump aides earlier raised the possibility of imposing tariffs on Vietnam, according to a Reuters report. The country responded by agreeing to aid US deportation requests within a tight 30-day timeframe, the report said.

Retailers have been scrambling to prepare for the impact on prices after Trump this week imposed stiff 25% tariffs on Canada and Mexico, as well as a 20% levy on China.

During his Tuesday address to the joint session of Congress, Trump said Americans will have to “bear with” him through an “adjustment period.”

Earlier that day, Target CEO Brian Cornell warned that shoppers may notice higher prices on fruits and vegetables in stores within the next few days.

Walmart has historically had strong bargaining power over its Chinese suppliers, and past requests for lower prices have largely been met, sources told Bloomberg.

But the retailer’s latest request is unusual and outsize, leaving manufacturers struggling to decide whether holding onto Walmart as a partner is worth bearing the brunt of the tariffs, according to the Bloomberg report.

Walmart has historically had strong bargaining power over its Chinese suppliers,

Walmart first requested a price reduction from Chinese suppliers after Trump imposed an initial 10% levy on goods from China in early February, sources said.

The retailer asked for more cuts after Trump threatened to double the taxes later that month, according to the report.

Other retailers under pressure may use the same tactic. Target, for example, has been having discussions with vendors about how to handle the tariffs, Cornell said on Tuesday.

Walmart has been trying to reduce its dependence on China over the past few years. Its reliance on Chinese imports dropped to 60% in 2023 from 80% in 2018, according to a Reuters report.

In 2023, the company reported that two-thirds of its total product spend went toward items made, grown or assembled in the US.

Brian Breaks These Girls’ DELUSION On Why Men Won’t Take Them SERIOUSLY

Fob Story.

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

Ken Cartisano

I’m just a run-of-the-mill journalist, okay? Except in certain sports related circles, you probably never heard of me. Neil A. Gleary? See? Almost exclusively sports write-ups with the occasional science article here and there. Not very well known.

 

So I’m surprised when I come home late one night and there’s a message on my answering machine informing me that my request for an interview with the Director of AARI has been approved. Arrangements had been made, please confirm by calling this number, bla, bla, bla…

 

I picked up the phone and called the number in the message. I’m transferred to a ‘human interface specialist’ who tells me, “Our director is seeking an interview with you.”

 

“But I didn’t request an…”

 

“Are you Neil Gleary?”

 

“I am but…”

 

“Our director” he interrupts, “is seeking an interview with you.”

 

“Oh.” I say, biting my lip. “He knows I’m a sportswriter, right?”

 

“She does, yes—if you’re uncomfortable we can always find…”

 

“No, no. That’s fine. I would be delighted to interview the Director. What’s her name, by the way. And where do I go?”

 

“A limousine style car will pick you up in front of your apartment at precisely eight a.m. tomorrow morning, he will not wait, so don’t be late.”

 

“Okay, but why? Why does…”

 

The call ended.

 

I spend the rest of the evening searching for information about AARI. All I’m able to learn is that it’s a federally funded research lab dedicated to secret black box projects. Alien technology, artificial intelligence, things like that. This information was provided by a former associate with contacts in the State Department. He was so reticent about speaking about them over the phone, that that was the only information he would give me. When I told him of my impending meeting, he asked me if I had a valid passport. When I told him I did, he said he was just kidding. “If they want you, they’ll get you.”

 

I told him they were sticklers for punctuality and recounted the message I’d received. He said, “Yeah? Maybe you should test their resolve on that issue.”

 

“I should be late?”

 

“Why not?”

 

You can’t be late, that’s why. It’s contrary to your nature.

 

In fact, you’re two hours early and a sleek black limo is already waiting at the curb, exhaust fumes rising from the tailpipe. Something tells you it’s been sitting there all night long. The rear door pops open as you approach, you know that once you are in the car, you won’t be able to let yourself out.

 

You get in anyway. The door closes and locks. You feel protected by the spacious interior insulation and comforted by the smell and sound of the leather seats, the glint of the wood and chrome trim. The first thing you notice is that you’re alone as the driverless car eases smoothly into traffic and down the street, and stops at the first traffic light. You realize, in that short distance, all the windows, except the windshield, have become too dark to see through.

 

The light changes, the car accelerates through the next ten intersections, as if they’ve been timed to your passage, the car makes several turns and goes down into a cross-town tunnel—and doesn’t come out. By some inexplicable mechanical means, the limo has been shunted to an impossible side tunnel with no other vehicles. Here, the limo feels like it accelerates to a very high rate of speed on a road devoid of all traffic.

 

The minutes pass in silence as you wonder what you might say to the Director of a top-secret facility, until you are suddenly out in the open, flashing down a highway alongside a wide river. The road loops and bends as you go higher and higher above the river. The limo slows, turns, and darts down a deserted street and into an underground garage. The fluorescent lighting rivals the sun at noon. You look at your watch. It’s nearly 7 a.m. The limo comes to a smooth, unhurried stop and the door pops open. You get out, head for the elevator and stop.

 

You look around. The garage is huge and empty. There is no call button for the elevator. You feel you are surely being monitored as the elevator doors open of their own accord. You step in, they close. ‘This is all going very well,’ you think. A moment later the elevator plummets several dozen stories in a matter of seconds. You push your stomach back down out of your throat and think, ‘What you’ll do with it, (the story, not your stomach) or who you’ll sell it to is anybody’s guess.’

 

The doors open. You step out, look around. No one is waiting. But there’s a dark stone line in the middle of the marble floor. You follow it.

 

 

 

A monitor dinged softly, indicating the arrival of the elevator down the hall. She found herself holding her breath and, considering who she was, and how powerful, she could not divine the source of her unease.

 

She took stock. He had followed implicit instructions, some verbal, some subliminal, and had made his way here, to one of AARI’s most tightly secured labs. The place was deserted for security purposes, all personnel had been temporarily reassigned, or furloughed for the time being. An excessive precaution, she thought, which left her vulnerable, and one that she would not allow to happen again.

 

But her beauty, in its current state, by itself could overwhelm most men, and her ancestral status was nearly as intoxicating to those of her own species. There was no situation she wasn’t prepared for.

 

Her current assignment rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.

 

“Neil Gleary? Come in, come in. Have a seat.” There was no handshake, no touching of any kind. “I’ve got a pleasant surprise for you and some bad news as well. What would you like first?”

 

He was slow to answer her, and he seemed alarmingly unaffected by her looks. He took a seat, loosening his tie comically. “How about telling me why I’m here?”

 

“You’re here to be debriefed and deprogrammed, Neil. Just sit back and relax while I ask you a few questions.”

 

“Debriefed? From what?”

 

She ignored his question and asked, “Do you recall what elementary school you went to?”

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t sound interested.”

 

“Should I be? It was a long time ago.”

 

“How about high school? Remember any of your classmates from high school?”

 

He hesitated.

 

“You went to college too you know, remember where?”

 

He did not remember where. “So? So what? I’ve got a bad memory. I thought I was here to interview you? What does my past have to do with the work you conduct here?”

 

“Ironically, quite a bit. Are you married? No. Got a girlfriend? No. Ever had one? No. Are you hot for me now? No. Because this,” she waved her hands at her exquisite form, “is not your type. You see, Neil, I’m an alien being, I know I don’t look like one, but here’s the crazy part, you’re an alien too.” He made no move to get up and leave. (Darn, she loved using the tractor beam.) “I don’t look like this—and you don’t look like that.”

 

“Is that so?” He looked around. There was no quick exit for either of them.

 

She locked eyes with him. “Your name is XIVIC CIM, your mission here was abandoned 19 years ago. Someone should have brought you in a long time ago. I can’t explain why you weren’t—retrieved, debriefed and—reassigned. It’s inexplicable and inexcusable, but it happens. You got lost in the wafer-work or something. No one knew you were here. Excretion, twenty-four years is a long time to work under-cover, the transition into your true self might well be disturbing.

 

“What? Why, are we that ugly?”

 

“Are you kidding? This old leather hide versus our glittering silicon features? There’s no competition. None. It’s just that—let’s face it, you probably think I’m a raving lunatic, and really believe that you are a human being, but when we do an exo-alien mind-press, believe me, it sticks. And you’ve been submerged in the role for a quarter of a century. It’s going to be tough on you, but you’ll adjust. Most deep cover agents recover. I don’t know how, to be honest. I can’t stand wearing this disguise, it creeps me out. Everything has some kind of skin on it. Skin here, skin on that. Uch. Six hours a day, that’s my max. The more we talk about it, the grosser I feel. I understand if you don’t want to talk about something you can’t remember. Perfectly understandable. Do you think you’re ready?”

 

“Not really. Talking is good. Mmmm, tell me, how does this transition work?”

 

She held up a small key fob.

 

He said, “Ahh, you just push a button.”

 

She nodded. “I have no idea how it works, I’m just another cog in a big machine Mr. Gleary. Are you ready to be yourself again?” Her dazzling smile bounced right off his façade.

 

“How many of those do you have?”

 

She pulled open her desk drawer, then closed it again just as quickly. “Enough to keep me busy,” she said, inexplicably flustered.

 

“And they’re all marked?”

 

“I think,” she said, “we’ve had enough questions for the time…”

 

“Before you do that,” he jumped out of his chair, “before you do that, let me just…”

 

She pointed the fob at his chest and pushed the button. Nothing happened. The elevator chimed, she didn’t remember hearing it go back up, let alone come back down. She pushed the button on the fob again and still nothing happened to Neil Gleary’s visage. The elevator doors opened and there was the sound of boots and guns, jackets and shields with FBAI on them.

 

“But you’re one of us, XIVIC. How could you?”

 

He had his own fob. As he stepped into the Director’s private lavatory, to make sure it was empty, he stopped in front of the mirror, the image staring back was that of a tall slender Gray, with long fingers and those legendary black, inscrutable eyes. He pushed the button on the fob once more and appeared human again. He was not ‘one of them,’ and his name was not XIVIC CIM.

 

The silicon-based alien was well out of earshot when Neil Gleary mumbled his reply: “I like it here. That’s how.”

7 “Normal” Things Sigma Males Have No Interest

Now that Bashar al-Assad & his family have fled Syria for Moscow, what will their lives be like now?

They will be rich exiles

My guess is Assad planned for the exile and has a stash of at least $ 100 Million in Russia which fetches him 12 Billion Rubles today

Like Snowden & Yanukovych , he will be designated a “Foreign Advisor” and additionally be given a Honorary Military Rank of probably Colonel and that automatically means a Pension of 330,000 Rubles ($ 3,091) a month

He will be under strong guard in Moscow and will have both Military and FSB Protection

My guess is after 12 months, his wife will be given a regular passport and can actually visit the UK Or Europe for treatment

Of course if Syria becomes Libya 2.0, then who knows?

After 3–4 years – Assad could be welcomed vociferously back to power

Today if Saddam or Gaddafi were alive, they would be cheered to welcome in Baghdad or Tripoli

So it’s best that Assad, Sheikh Hasina are both alive so that if things become worse for Syria and Bangladesh – these leaders would actually be welcomed back

Chile Quiche

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a41fd426160e2d5e01b0bd87c563ca91

Ingredients

  • 1 deep-dish pastry shell
  • 2 avocados, mashed
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 1 tomato, peeled, seeded and chopped
  • 4 fresh green chiles, roasted and peeled, or 1 (4 ounce) can mild green chiles
  • 1/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
  • 1/2 pound ground beef
  • 1/4 cup onion, chopped
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons taco seasoning mix or chili powder
  • 3 eggs, slightly beaten
  • 1 1/2 cups Half-and-Half
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Without pricking the crust, bake the shell for 10 minutes; then remove and cool.
  3. Reduce the temperature to 375 degrees F.
  4. If using a frozen pastry shell, you will need to reduce the Half-and-Half in the filling, as the prepared shells are smaller. Reduce the cooking time as well by 15 minutes.
  5. In a small bowl, combine the avocados with garlic, lemon juice, tomato, half the chiles and pepper sauce. Refrigerate until ready to use.
  6. In a medium-size skillet, sauté the beef, onion, remaining chiles and seasoning for about 12 to 15 minutes or until the onion is soft and translucent.
  7. Drain and discard all excess fat.
  8. In a small bowl, combine the eggs, Half-and-Half and seasonings.
  9. Place the grated cheese in the shell, topped by the drained beef and the egg mixture.
  10. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes at 375 degrees F or until set.

He came home from work, ate dinner, and said, “I want you to do something, and I don’t want you to fight me on this. I want a divorce.” I was completely blindsided. Then he packed a bag and left for his mother’s house. I made him leave his key. He didn’t understand, asking, “How will I get in the house?” I replied, “You have no reason to enter when I’m not home. You don’t live here anymore.” He was shocked.

I started thinking about his infidelity and the increasing micro-aggressions. For Christmas, he gave me a bottle of men’s cologne—that was it. Of course, he kept it for himself. It was clear he hadn’t put any thought into my gift.

So, instead of begging him to stay, I emptied out our joint accounts and made an appointment with a family attorney for the next day.

Of course, he wanted to drag things out. He came to get his things the same week, and I sat watching TV while he packed and loaded the car. He actually asked me to help. I told him, “This is something you want to do, not me.”

Before he left, I told him I knew he was still having an affair and that my attorney had warned him to be careful. He denied everything, sputtering, but the thing that seemed to bother him most was that I had gotten a lawyer. He actually said, “You got a lawyer? You know I’ll always take care of you. Don’t you trust me?”

By the way, he told me the reason he needed space was, “The kids are grown now, so I don’t have to pretend anymore. I never wanted a family I had to hang out with.”

So that was the end. A year later, a judge awarded me about a third of his assets and income as alimony until I remarry or die. We had been married for 32 years, and I was 65 years old. Now, I’m sitting pretty comfortably and peacefully in a different city. Aside from some incidental paperwork handled by my attorney, I have no contact with him. I don’t have to pretend anymore, either.

Edit: I want to say that finally getting a chance to tell my story has been cathartic for me. Thank you all for your support and encouragement. I am much less angry and more resolved to live well after this. Thank you all.

 

Wearing painter pants while walking down a memory highway

I have a project that is being run by a 25–30 something project manager. I am 61, and have been in my field for over 30 years.

I have not met this PM in person, but I have been told that this PM graduated from an Ivy League university, so she must be somewhat bright.

But she has zero knowledge or common sense. She has no experience doing the work this project requires, and possesses no understanding of the project and the tasks needed to complete the project successfully. I’ve been on this project for two years now and meet with her and her team multiple times a week so I’ve had an opportunity to gauge her abilities. She might be bright, but she has no business on THIS project. There are older folks on this project as well who don’t belong on this project either.

Young people who complain about older people not knowing everything fail to realize that spending time learning something and doing it over time (commonly known as experience) is a HUGE part of being successful. School does not teach you everything, no matter how bright you are. Some things can only be learned by doing them, often for years. As I close out my career, I look back on what I was able to do when I first started compared to my abilities now, and there is no comparison.

And the same is true in life. The more life experiences you have, the more knowledge of how the world actually works you have. Young people excuse bad behavior from others. Older people know through life experience that putting up with that will cause problems. Young people engage in risky behaviors or harmful stuff like recreational drug use, eating badly, and their limited experience tells them they will be okat]y doing what they are doing. Older people know that will catch up with you, because some of them did that stuff and they are paying for it, or they know someone who did that stuff.

Yes, just living will teach you a lot.

Sex Before Marriage Was The Worst Thing I Did To My Mental Health

Never mind exporting, US cannot make say 90% of the stuffs that they need everyday! Stop being blind i live in South East Asia! I hardly see anything that is made in the USA in our market!

Industrial power sounds nice but US don’t want to dirty their hands to build the nuts and bolts needed. They thought that the world will continue to pour money into the US being a superiority complex nation. Everything they need it will cost them 3–5 times more than they can import from China!

The most important question is why? The US CEO insist on earning billions! The US workers wanted 5 times of Chinese wages but willing to do half as much and 10 times more benefits! Can’t you still sell at the same Chinese prices just based on these alone but there are more.

Your nation graduate bull shit artiste. Not STEM engineers! Your politicians work against your industry and allow your infrastructure to be dilapidated! That is why you cannot make your own underwear!

VDH: Are The Years Of Madness Ending?

Tuesday, Dec 17, 2024 – 05:20 AM

Authored by Victor Davis Hanson via American Greatness,

Never in U.S. history has a president-elect been welcomed as the real president before his January 20 inauguration.

And never has the incumbent president so willingly surrendered his last two months in office and all but abdicated—to the relief of his nation and the rest of the world.

One reason so many are welcoming Trump’s return is the universally desperate hope that his election spelled an end to a collective madness at home and its ripples abroad during the last four years. And why not?

Nations overseas had never quite witnessed anything like the lethal August 2021 American flight from Afghanistan.

That utter humiliation and impotence of the U.S. military likely signaled to Russia there would be no consequences if it invaded Ukraine—and it did; to Iran that it could now unleash Hamas and Hezbollah on Israel—and it did; and to China that it could daily threaten Taiwan and send a spy balloon across the United States with impunity—and it did.

The result was the current global chaos perhaps not seen since the late 1930s when a confused United States was similarly a bystander to the rise of bellicose regimes and wars. The Biden administration shrugged that the Red Sea, the Black Sea, the South China Sea, the Straits of Hormuz, and the Eastern Mediterranean Sea all became dangerous to the U.S. Navy and unsafe to world shipping.

A disparate group of nuclear and near-nuclear powers—Russia, China, North Korea, and Iran—are either at war with Western allies or threatening war with them. Their confidence was predicated on the assumption that the U.S. after 2020 was engaged in a Maoist-like cultural revolution that warred on its own security, energy, military, universities, and social unity—and would continue with a second Biden term.

The Biden-era cultural revolution has done great damage to the United States. The U.S. border was systematically and deliberately destroyed to allow some 10-12 million illegal entrants to pour into the U.S. without legality or background checks. Never has an outgoing administration spitefully sold taxpayer-purchased border wall material for pennies on the dollar—rather than see it used for the purposes for which it was purchased.

Never had the U.S. experienced such an immigrant surge. And never had more than 50 million, and over 15 percent of the resident American population been foreign-born.

Why did Biden and Alejandro Mayorkas erase the border? What madness and hate drove them to dismantle federal immigration law? Was it sheer nihilism? Or a desperate but calculated effort to alter American demography for political purposes?

For four years, the public, elected officials, and pundits have all warned that Joe Biden was dangerously cognitively challenged and indeed completely unfit to fulfill the duties of the presidency.

A long-suffering nation winced as Biden slurred his words, spoke in unintelligible sound bites, stood frozen and mute, screamed at and libeled half the country, tripped, fell, wandered aimlessly, became bewildered, and more or less proved a global embarrassment. All knew Biden was not able to run the country; yet none knew exactly who was actually in charge of America in his stead. The Obamas? Leftists like Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, the Squad, Jill Biden, and the Biden staff?

Our allies worried that the usually resilient American president was now all but demented. Our enemies enjoyed these leaderless years of opportunity. And the left serially misled the public that the decrepit Biden, whom they feared in private was senile, was “dynamic,” “energic,” and “fit as a fiddle.”

Never has a president so deserved to be removed by the 25th Amendment or through impeachment and conviction. And never has even his inner circle finally but silently agreed as they left office, the very enablers who had done their political best to mask his dementia for four long years.

Never has the justice system, from local to state to national jurisdictions, so systematically and coordinately, sought to bankrupt, render inert, and jail an ex-president and current presidential candidate.

Rarely have the FBI, the CIA, the IRS, the Department of Justice, and the Pentagon become weaponized and so flagrantly and with impunity broken the law, abandoned their mission statements, and served political agendas rather than the American people. Not since the J. Edgar Hoover era has the FBI hierarchy serially lied under oath, stonewalled Congress, forged a court affidavit, or partnered with the media to suppress the news. Has the FBI ever raided an ex-president’s home, spied on parents at school board meetings, monitored Catholics, or tried to terrify and harass pro-life activists?

Never has a presidential family so brazenly profited by selling its influence to foreign interests. Never has it used the powers of the FBI and DOJ to cover up its crimes and to ensure the family filial bagman would be for years exempted by the DOJ and later pardoned by the president himself, the father of the family miscreant and privy to the family syndicate’s illegal activities.

Seldom has a president and his administration sought to fuel a veritable cultural revolution to change the fabric of the nation by institutionalizing a third, transexual gender, violating civil rights law, and systematically admitting, hiring, and promoting Americans on the basis of their race and gender.

Never since the Civil War era had local and state insurrectionist governments established 600 nullification zones, in which they vowed to break federal law and consider it null and void within their jurisdictions. Never have rioters looted, burned, killed, assaulted, and occupied large swaths of cities for over 120 days, and largely with impunity.

Never had the U.S. Treasury borrowed so much money so quickly and owed $37 in national debt—and been so intent on borrowing continuously nearly $2 trillion a year in annual deficits.

Never has a political party sought to systematically violate long-standing traditions, customs, and often the law itself to destroy a political opponent: hiring a foreign national to spread smears among the media and bureaucracies, impeaching a president twice, trying an ex-president in the Senate, seeking to remove a presidential candidate from 16 state ballots, using five different judicial jurisdictions to try an ex-president, and serially so defaming a candidate and ex-president as a dictator, fascist, and Nazi to create a climate that encouraged two near-miss assassination attempts on him.

In sum, for the last four years, the world has watched aghast as the United States lost its collective mind and became a radical Jacobin revolutionary society.

So why is there not a sense of almost ecstatic relief, not just among conservatives but even among Democrats, that the years of darkness and madness are ending?

The global public believes that the United States will again become lawful, have a secure border, return as a beacon of free-market economics, protect its allies, deter its enemies, win over its neutrals, return to the rule of law, restore the professionalism and prestige of its government agencies, check predatory nations abroad with a new deterrent military, and prepare to lead the world in energy production, exploration of space, and scientific and technology development.

Summed up, the welcomed counterrevolution is one of restoration—to dream again that nothing is impossible, and the dreary age of stasis, envy, cynicism, and nihilism is ending, replaced again by a world without limits. No one knows quite what is ahead, but all know that it is at least better already than the current nightmare.

In 1988, Televangelist Jimmy Swaggart admitted to cheating on his wife with a prostitute. He tearfully broke down on Television and claimed he had sinned because he visited a sex worker.

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main qimg 9f38cfee63125293d8d8ae24e25e19e8

That should have been game over for his “ministry”. He asked people to donate money to him for the work he did “for the Lord” and he preached about morality and the evils of things like rock and roll. And then he used some of the money people gave him to pay a prostitute.

So that should have been the end of him as a televangelist and he should never been able to beg for money on TV again with any kind of credibility.

But three years later he was still running a ministry and still getting people to donate money.

In 1991 he was caught with another prostitute, this time in his car. Rather than tearfully breaking down he said, and I quote, “The Lord told me it’s flat none of your business.”

And he just kept going. He keeps preaching about morality and people keep giving money to him.

Seriously people. If a guy gets caught cheating on his wife with prostitutes twice in three years, he’s not someone worth listening to on issues of personal morality and you should not be giving him any money.

Cornish Pasties

Originally from Wales, Scotland and England, these pasties were popular with the miners in the copper mining regions of Arizona.

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b14bb82727af4739b771d9368a2eb4ef

Ingredients

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup lard
  • 1/3 cup water (approximately)
  • 4 medium potatoes, pared
  • 2 medium onions, sliced
  • 1 pound beef round (no fat or gristle)
  • Butter, salt and pepper

Instructions

  1. Make pastry from flour, salt, lard and cold water, being careful not to make it too moist. It should hold together well enough to leave the sides of the bowl as mixed. Divide into four sections. Roll each out as for pie, keeping as round as possible.
  2. Place on one-half a circle a layer of thinly-sliced potatoes and onions.
  3. Cover with beef, cut into medium pieces.
  4. Top with butter, salt and pepper to taste.
  5. If desired, sprinkle with fresh chopped parsley.
  6. Fold unfilled half of crust over filling and seal by pinching with fingers or pressing tines of fork to make a half-moon.
  7. Cut a small hole in the center of each.
  8. Bake for about 30 minutes at 400 degrees F.

Cheating Wife Came Home SMILING After 1-Night Stand, INSTANTLY REGRETTED IT!

3 Dead, 7 Injured After Teenage Female Opens Fire At Wisconsin School

Tuesday, Dec 17, 2024 – 04:56 AM

Update 2 (7:00pm ET): The deceased girl shooter’s manifesto has reportedly leak, and according to Slatzism, here is an excerpt:

* * *

Update (4:20pm ET): The Abundant Life Christian School shooter in Madison, WI was a teenage female, CNN reports, adding that at this time, at least three people are dead including a teacher, a teenage student, and the female suspect shooter.

* * *

At least two people have been killed and seven others were injured at a shooting at a Christian school in Madison, Wisconsin, on Monday morning, local police and ABC News said. Madison Police Chief Shon Barnes said the suspected juvenile shooter was also found dead.

“This remains an active and ongoing investigation. More information will be released as it is available. We currently need people to avoid the area,” Madison police said.

Officers responded to a call about an active shooter at the Abundant Life Christian School at 10:57 a.m. local time, Barnes said.

“Our officers were responding to a call of an active shooter at the Abundant Life Christian School here in Madison,” Barnes said at a news conference. “When officers arrived, they found multiple victims suffering from gunshot wounds.”

Abundant Life is a K through 12th-grade school with about 400 students.

Barnes added in the news conference that he won’t provide any details on the victims, including their names or if they are staff or students, until their next of kin are notified.

“We are praying for the kids, educators, and entire Abundant Life school community as we await more information and are grateful for the first responders who are working quickly to respond,” Wisconsin Gov. Tony Evers said in a statement on social media.

Sen. Ron Johnson (R-Wis.) wrote on social media: “My sincere condolences and prayers for all the victims of the tragedy at Abundant Life Christian School. I will continue to closely monitor the situation.”

And Sen. Tammy Baldwin (D-Wis.) also said, “I have been briefed on the active shooting at Abundant Life Christian School in Madison and my heart goes out to all those impacted. My office is in touch with local and state officials, and I stand ready to assist law enforcement and anyone affected.”

Men want PEACE W0men want revenge & to punish. Men walk away for self preservation!

One of many battles going on in the West today. But you know, it will all settle down.

Eventually.

Coconut Octopus

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find… view prompt

Khadija S. Mohammad

“Octopuses?” Thomas spluttered.

 

The girl smiled. “Popular misconception. Logically, the plural is octopodes. Although publicly it’s still octopuses.” He rubbed the back of his head. Try to unearth the biggest scientific secret of the century, and all you end up with is a headache and a lesson in octopus plurals.

 

“Come with me, our secret is in here.” She was laughing at him?

 

He followed her through a wide door and into a glaring white chamber. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light he noticed boxes of blue and other bright colours dotting the room. Octopus tanks.

 

The girl strode towards the farthest wall, avoiding the tanks and other obstacles with ease. Thomas was not so lucky; His natural clumsiness asserted itself, and by the time he stood next to her, three items were displaced, and one was broken. He was vaguely aware of a white figure glaring at his back as it cleaned up the mess.

 

In front of them, a blank wall. The girl leaned into the wall and placed her eye in front of a hidden sensor. Slowly, the protective covering went up and what faced them was another octopus tank. “This is Hàixiū,” she said, putting her hand against the glass. Thomas spotted a small jellyfish-like shape in one corner. He pointed at it.

 

“Yes, that’s her. Hàixiū is Chinese for ‘shy’.”

 

A small squeak came from the corner of the room. Thomas turned and saw a silver-rimmed octopus tank with a young man standing in front of it, looking like something from a black-and-white movie. His skin was pale, almost white, and his clothes were black and grey. He squeaked at the octopus in front of him, and leant close to the tank, whispering like the breeze on a cold day. Thomas pointed at him and looked inquisitively at the girl.

 

“Hàorán. He’s a little mad,” she explained, lowering her voice. “Ever since he came here he’s been whispering to Kuàisù, his octopus. He seems to think that Kuàisù can learn to talk.” Thomas glanced back at Hàorán and wondered…

 

A man of about twenty walked in. “There you are Mimi. It’s time for Hàixiū’s injection.”

 

“Just a moment, Hui. Our journalist needs something to write about. Is it okay if he stays?” Hui nodded.

 

They put on gloves and found equipment while Thomas watched, occasionally glancing back at the tank. Hàixiū didn’t move.

 

“Turn on the Mush,” said Mimi. Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Just watch, it will explain itself.” Hui pressed a button on another wall and Thomas waited for something to happen.

 

Mimi pulled her gloves above her elbows and stretched her arms towards the tank. Thomas stared. Mush. Her hands just sank through it, the glass melting and moulding around them. The octopus flew – right to the other end of the tank.

 

“Come back here, you little monster,” Mimi said playfully. Hàixiū refused to come nearer, waiting until Mimi was just close enough to touch an arm with her fingertips before jetting away, pointing her suckers at them. And that’s what you are, she seemed to say. Not so much shy as cheeky, Thomas thought.

 

Hui talked while Mimi chased the elusive Hàixiū around the tank. “We take them out every day and inject them with Systimosin. It’s a kind of stimulant.”

 

“Got you!” said Mimi, grabbing hold of an arm and struggling to hold her still. “Hurry up Hui, she’s really strong.”

 

“Coming, coming.” He passed her a syringe filled with a thick, colourless liquid. “It was developed for the first time in this lab a few weeks ago. It supplies new connections in the octopodes’ brain, making it smarter. We’re also expecting it to give them a longer life span.”

 

Mimi injected the liquid into Hàixiū’s arm, then let go of her. “She’s developing faster than the others. They’re all developing faster than I expected.” Hui laughed.

 

“If you have any questions, ask Mimi. She’s the biggest octopus expert around here. I’m just the assistant.” Something is his voice – in the words he spoke? The way he spoke? – hit Thomas like a wave. He’d always been sensitive to emotions. If you don’t talk, you get to listen longer. And words aren’t the only thing you can listen to.

 

He put up a hand, a Wait, please sign; He wanted to write. He hoped his face would say what his hands couldn’t. He’d never been the best at polite talk. Or impolite talk.

 

Somehow they understood. Hui left. Mimi waited, then began walking him round a tour again, stopping at each new tank to add a special comment about the octopus inside.

 

“Each octopus is different,” she explained, “They each have their own personalities. This is Yonggan,” as they neared another tank where an octopus was attached to the glass. “We joke that he’s Hàixiū’s soulmate, the two are exact opposites. Yonggan is very playful; He loves new people. We expected him to develop the fastest, but Nature never makes things easy.” Thomas nodded and bent over his notebook as they walked on. “They’re each named after their most prominent traits, it makes them easier to place and helps when we forget which name is attached to which octopus.” He nodded again.

 

They walked on, carefully avoiding Hàorán’s corner, where he continued whispering to Kuàisù, ignoring them completely, or just not seeing them.

 

“Remember, this is top-secret work. No leaks,” Mimi said. Thomas rolled his eyes. I’m a journalist. Whatever I see, the public sees. Suddenly he bent over his notebook, writing something and ripping it out to show her.

 

What if one of the scientists leak?” She read. “That’s simple; They wouldn’t. I would trust any one of my crew with my life. We all trust each other.” Thomas wasn’t satisfied, but he kept quiet as they moved to the next tank.

 

“And this is Xiaochou, the clown. You wouldn’t think that he was nocturnal, would you?” Xiaochou was currently doing octopus backflips, front flips, and side flips.

 

“We always use Amphioctopus marginatus, the Coconut or Veined octopus, for our experiments. We tried using other types, but Systimosin doesn’t create intelligence, it just increases what’s already there, so they either showed no signs of developing or died when we tried increasing the dose.”

 

Thomas was confused. Surely she was fond of the creatures after working with them for weeks, but he couldn’t detect any emotions from her when she talked of their deaths.

 

“The government decided that it was too damaging to risk too many tests, so they only granted permission for 10 octopodes, 5 tests each. It’s at the edge of our limit; If an octopus died now…” She shivered. “Well, hopefully all goes to – ”

 

“Hàixiū is out!” The steady thud of feet on the spotless white floor, squeaks, squeals and more shouting. Only Hàorán stayed where he was, a surprised but smug grin on his face. Why, Thomas wondered. Somehow, the alleged madman fascinated him.

 

He followed Mimi back to Hàixiū’s tank, notebook forgotten, where a group of teuthologists stood in a loose circle, talking. He caught a few words. “- before we expected.”

 

“She’s certainly developing fast,” Mimi commented, “She wasn’t scheduled to escape for a few weeks.” Nobody seemed panicked. In fact, nobody was even looking for Hàixiū. It was as if they all knew that she would be back soon, like she was a colleague who had just gone out for a coffee and would return in a few minutes. Thomas stood awkwardly behind the group, staring absent-mindedly into Hàixiū’s empty tank.

 

“Hui?” Mimi called. Hui walked in and looked at her expectantly. “She should be near the vent in the test room, could you bring her in please?” Hui nodded and left.

 

He returned a minute later with a frozen look of panic on his face. “She’s not there.”

 

No one knew what to do. The chances of her not doing what they expected were a thousand to one. They froze.

 

Suddenly everyone was moving, and Thomas watched with an amused smile. This is what happens when you become too logical, he thought. Resuming his watch on the tank, he let his mind roam, headlines and front-page news drifting in and out of his consciousness.

 

“Where could she be?” “What’s happened to her?” “What if she’s got out?” “Why didn’t we calculate correctly?” People zipping back and forth, searching the rooms, searching the vents, making more calculations and searching again.

 

Half an hour later, the panic was broken, the problem still unsolved. In place of blind frenzy came desperation for some, depression for others. Some were sitting cross-legged on the floor, crying, knowing that Hàixiū was already dead, some continued stubbornly searching. Thomas was still glued to the glass, trying to appear oblivious to his surroundings, overwhelmed with the emotions that flooded the lab. A single octopus meant so much to them. In the passageway, a man was on his knees, praying.

 

As Thomas stared through the tank, something caught his eye. “Mimi,” he shouted, realising he didn’t know her last name. His voice was scratchy and thick with disuse. She lifted her head from her hands and looked around, unsure of who was calling her. “She’s here.”

 

Everyone crowded around him, following his finger to the small jellyfish-like shape in the corner. Mimi squealed with relief. Hui and another man slapped each other on the back. Tears were forgotten, driven away by almost hysterical laughter.

 

Thomas was confused, alone in his thoughts. Hàixiū had always been there; She hadn’t moved from when he first entered the room. And throughout the commotion that had followed her ‘disappearance’, no one had admitted coming near the tank. ‘Hàixiū is out’…

 

Safe in his corner, Hàorán laughed. Kuàisù had proved his worth.

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World’s Smallest Violin Plays As “Depressed” Biden Bureaucrats Can’t Find New Jobs

Wednesday, Dec 18, 2024 – 07:25 AM

Authored by Steve Watson via Modernity.news,

This is a corker.

depressedinterns
depressedinterns

Politico is reporting that Biden Administration bureaucrats are depressed because they can’t find new jobs, and members of Biden’s “national security team” are “frantically” scrambling to find new careers before Trump dismantles the deep state.

“Our side is just battling depression while we update our resumes,” one White House official stated, while another staffer declared that “Everyone is willing to take a demotion because there aren’t enough jobs.”

Boo hoo. Cry harder.

While the higher ups are all abandoning ship for Defence contractors, think tanks and consulting firms, the lower level dogsbody bureaucrats are whinging that they face taking “unglamorous jobs” with pay cuts.

“There’s a lot of good career people here who went through the first Trump administration and are saying, ‘Can I really go through that again?’” said one Biden appointee at the State Department.

Oh my God, the hardship of having someone you don’t agree with running things.

“It’s going to be very saturated and crowded and so beggars can’t be choosers, I guess,” said another Biden State Department appointee, adding “The crazy thing is none of these jobs we’re desperate to get are particularly glamorous, unless you want to go lobby for some autocratic foreign governments.”

The world’s tiniest violin is playing for them.

Politico notes that “Wherever they land, a wave of Democratic national security and foreign policy staffers will continue the tradition of patiently treading water for four years until, just maybe, a Democrat can win the presidency again in 2028.”

Yeah. Maybe learn to tread water a lot longer.

Or perhaps learn to code.

Welcome to the real world, losers.

Get to the back of the line.

Trump is going to provide a lot of opportunities for you.

Maybe just don’t mention your last job on your resumé.

*  *  *

Nothing Like These Hidden Temples Exists Outside of the Films of Indiana Jones

By MessyNessy
November 14, 2024

damanhur
damanhur

damanhur

“Show us these temples or we will dynamite the entire hillside”, threatened Italy’s state prosecutor when police had failed to locate a rumoured network of mysterious chambers buried 30 metres in the foothills of the Alps. They had been dug by hand in complete secrecy in the 1970s under the direction of Oberto Airaudi, a philospher and artist who claimed to have had visions of ancient temples at age 10 from a previous life. The Temples of Humankind, a massive five-level complex of murals, mosaics, labyrinths and hidden doors is still only considered to be only 10% complete. When authorities finally discovered it in 1992, the architectural inspector for the Italian Heritage Ministry, said: “Nothing like this exists outside of the films of Indiana Jones.”

tempio azzurro 2
tempio azzurro 2

tempio_azzurro_2

Excavation began in 1978 by just fifteen followers of the Federation of Damanhur, a peaceful, spiritual commune founded as a social experiment a few years earlier, 30 miles north of the city of Turin.

damanhurhistory
damanhurhistory

damanhurhistory

“The first pick struck the rock on a warm August night. It was a Saturday evening in 1978. Oberto and about ten other Damanhurians sat around a fire … A large star fell across the sky… It was a positive sign; a good moment to begin to dig a tunnel into the mountain … to build a temple the likes of which had not existed for a thousand years or more … The Damanhurians worked intensely, tenaciously aroused by an enthusiasm that united all in the pleasure of group activity and the taste for secrecy. Secrecy because at this point they did not have permission to excavate.”

– TheTemples.org

temples14
temples14

temples14
Images (c) Damanhur

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temples12

temples12
Images (c) Damanhur

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templesindy 1

templesindy

More than a decade after building began, the entire community was awoken early one morning in a violent police raid. Police dogs searched houses for drugs while helicopters circled the sky above. Unable to find anything incriminating (such as an illegally-constructed underground temple), police armed with machine guns presented the resident lawyer with a magistrates warrant, stating an alleged tax evasion of 50,000,000 Lire (around $30,000). The charges were unsubstantiated but over the years the reclusive community had attracted local suspicion and negative attention from the press for its unusual practices.

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17894818188 c7f0f0f828 b

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Frequently labelled as a cult by outsiders, the group admittedly has some pretty far-out practices and holds a mix of New Age and neopagan beliefs. With its own constitution and currency, Damanhur also believes they are an experiment for the future, using technology bestowed upon them by the lost city of Atlantis.

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17895054390 dc338951fe b

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Some of their more bizarre activities include playing music with plants to reflect their passion for nature and in the past they’ve even claimed to have unlocked the secrets to time travel, but Damanhur has always adamantly denied accusations that the community is a cult.

TEMPIO 1
TEMPIO 1

TEMPIO-1

A year after the first raid, police stormed the eco-society again, this time in search of the temples, armed with a map obtained from a disgruntled former member of Damanhur who had been trying to blackmail the community. But the map was outdated by more than a decade and police were unable to find any entrances. It wasn’t until authorities threatened to blow up the whole mountain that the commune finally decided to give in and show the police their secret sanctuary.

temples15
temples15

temples15

 

Allegedly the policemen emerged from the tunnels an hour later, “tearful and overcome by the profound beauty of the Temples” and the prosecutor admitted to the founder Oberto Airaudi, “We must do something to save the Temples.” Even the police chief of the raid later became a great friend of the community.

temples16
temples16

temples16

On October 9, 1992 a press conference was held in Damanhur to announce the existence of the Temples of Humankind to the world, but its troubles weren’t over yet. The magnificent refuge built inside of a mountain was dubbed an 8th wonder of the world by the press while the Catholic Church immediately urged the local authorities to have it destroyed. Construction was ordered to cease and a long publicised court battle followed, but it only helped Damanhurians gain international support for the underground marvel they had created.

temples7
temples7

temples7

Eventually, the Italian government gave the community retroactive permission for their excavation and construction. The Temples are now open to the public and visitors are of course free to come and go, which would make the suggestion of cult activity more difficult to believe. The Damanhur website welcomes outside communities, saying it is open to sharing their knowledge and research and hosts thousands of visitors a year who participate in tours, seminars and courses through its own Damanhur University. This eco-society was even awarded by an agency of the United Nations as a model for a sustainable future.

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15318360713 c86ce911b3 b

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From here, it doesn’t look like we’re dealing with a bloodthirsty cult; no enslaved children for Indiana Jones to come and rescue– more like a bunch of Italian hippies who once had a really cool secret. Right?
You can take a virtual tour of The Temples of Humankind here. There’s also an old VBS documentary which takes you through the secret doors of the temple here.

Brian Proves Why These Women Are Gonna Be CAT Ladies

Of course it is! As long as one can see in win win and not win lose being set in the western Caucasian Anglo Saxon mindset.

To you guys China need to fail in order for US to win and vice versa. USA must killed all the Red Indians so that they get their land. You win and Red Indians lose! Or enslave Africans so that they get to toil for free to served you guys! Think about what if the 50 million Red Indians have grown to 150 million today and they helped to make America greater? That never went to their head.

So they had to destroy USSR to be the only hegemony in town! Or make Germany a dog to keep them down? And now to keep China poor thinking that will make them rich? How about China becoming 4 times as rich and buys 4 times of what you can sell? Or taking 4 times more burden shouldered by USA today? France and UK thought they could plunder the world and rob their colonies dry to build castles in France and UK, today, their wines, Brandy’s and perfumes sold the most in China not in France, UK or USA!

What if they see 4 China’s to get rich on? Or 4 China’s to profit from? But as a white Caucasian person you think you need to kill the one China to some how be richer? This view is wrong and perverse! It is archaic like your respective nations! I dare say if the US never attacked Vietnam and murder 3 million Vietnamese today their chance of being like the US and ally with them grew exponentially! And these 6–10 million more people will be your customers and friendly to America!

But some how you think killing them will make the US better and Vietnam worst? And so are the deaths of another 3 million Muslims in the Middle East. If that don’t happened you you have a stronger moral leadership!

What if you lose your phone?

Or your phone gets switched off?

main qimg 7f8e7d337c40f946c2e8020da3a29811
main qimg 7f8e7d337c40f946c2e8020da3a29811

No problems

You can use your PALM scan to make payments, withdraw money, transfer money and go by the local metro Or virtually anything else

So what if you are inebriated and someone scans your palm

You can secure against this by adding a security feature where the machine first needs the first digit and last four digits of your phone number and then approves your payment

You see these Taxis?

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main qimg 8d5701b286861bb3160fd2414f0f12a8

You need to just place your palm and the ride starts

It’s a Robo Taxi with no driver

You want to go to Hospital?

Just scan your palm or show your face and your entire insurance history comes up

So in an emergency no need of a phone or wallet

Your face is enough, Your palm is enough

I Know What You’re Thinking

“George, while you were in the bathroom, we received a call from the university for you.”

“I hope that they don’t want to take my degree away after having a second look at the papers I wrote way back when.”

“Very funny George. This is serious. Apparently there is a group of scientists at the university who have made what they called a great discovery. So far no outsiders know about this discovery, and they want you to interview them and observe the effectiveness of what they have invented.”

“Wow. Well I did take a first year foundational course in science when I was there, and I got a good mark, the highest mark that year for me.”

“No George, they were apparently quite impressed with the article you wrote about the strengths and weaknesses of electric cars and self-propelling lawnmowers.”

“When do they want me?”

“As soon as you can get there. They are quite eager to let the world know what they have discovered.”

George grabbed his camera and his recording device, and sprinted out of the office, into his car, and sped down to the university. Although it had been years since he was last on the campus, he found his way to the science building easily enough.

He was greeted on the main floor by a university security officer, and told to take the elevator to the top floor. George was surprised by what he saw when he arrived at his destination and the elevator door opened. There were two police officers standing there, one of whom asked him whether his name was George Stanley, and did he have ID on him to prove that he was who he said he was.  He replied in the positive, took out his wallet and showed the officer his driver’s license. He was then escorted by the two officers into the room that apparently housed the experiment. Everyone in the room except for the officers, and, of course, himself, wore long white lab coats.

The one who seemed to be the leader approached him and said, “Before we explain what it is that we have discovered, we are going to demonstrate it to you, with you as the research subject.”

George began to feel a little nervous at this point. The leader then reassured him that this experiment would be painless. “I am just going to expose you to some electro-magnetic waves, that will pair up with the waves created by your brain. What we are going to show you is our lie detector. I am pretty sure that you are about to tell me that such a device has already been developed, but it really has not. What was previously invented is what we call a psychophysiological detector of deceptions, and it is not infallible. It is more an intimidator that it is a detector – no intimidation, no detection.

For our invention to work we have to influence a person’s brainwaves with the waves from our machine. Now stand still. What I want you to do after I send the waves your way is to have you say what colour comes into your mind. If it is the same one that we have programmed our wave machine to send your way, then the two of you are connected. And we will be able to catch you in a lie.

George was usually a big talker, with a sarcastic comment for every occasion. In this case he was more than a little stunned by the experience, and said nothing. When the device was turned on, he heard a kind of buzzing in his brain, that had lasted a few seconds, later to fade away. Then the scientist pointed the device at him again, and there was a different tone of buzzing, followed by the word ‘brown’ resounding in his head several times.

“Okay, George, what was the colour?”

After a few seconds, in which George seriously contemplated giving a wrong answer, he said “brown.”

“Right! Now George, we are going to ask you a question, to which you can lie or tell the truth. We will tell you which one it is. George, are you married?”

George said that he was, and the lead scientist correctly replied with “That’s a lie”. George just nodded his head in response.

“We are now going to explain to you how it works. Let us know if you don’t understand. It is highly technical of course.”

George then asked a question, “Are you not going to de-program me first?”

The reply hit him like a hammer blow.

“Oh, we cannot do that. We tried, but could not find a way to do that, so we ended that part of the research. We feel that it would be relatively harmless to keep people programmed, as we will have absolute control of the devices. There will be no misuse.”

George recorded the explanations of different aspects of the technology, so his complete attention was on what he was learning. He had the distinct impression that when he did not quite get what they were saying, they would repeat what they had said slowly and with more explanation.

When he was about to leave, the lead scientist asks him a peculiar question. “When are you going to be writing this piece?” He replied by telling the man that he always wrote his articles as soon as he arrived at work at nine o’clock in the morning, as he was a ‘morning person’. He gave his standard joke about that saying, “I never wrote anything intelligent in the afternoon.”

After he had left and was driving back to the newspaper office, he wondered that the repetition of the explanations that he didn’t quite follow was the product of their ‘reading his mind’. He wondered how far he would have to go to be beyond their range. Or would there be no ‘beyond the range’. He knew from his regular reading of scientific journals that electro-magnetic waves were used to travel far into space. Travelling on earth should not  then pose a significant challenge to their use.

When he got back to the newspaper office, he went straight away to talk to the editor to explain the problem he would have with writing an unbiased article on the research. The editor, whom George respected for his intelligence, particularly as it was demonstrated in his ability to write meaningful articles, presented him with a strategy that could resolve his problem.

He followed it to the letter. The next morning, at precisely nine o’clock, he first wrote an article that was solidly supportive of the research, and the researchers. Minutes after he was finished the draft copy of this piece, he received a phone call from the lead researcher, who stated that he was sure that whatever he wrote would be fine with them. He should not worry about “getting it right”.

Then, as the editor had suggested, he wrote what he truly felt, giving the article the title “Do you want to be programmed?” It had a powerful impact on the readers. The research ethics committee of the university soon declared that they would cut the funding of the project until such time as they found a way to deprogram those who were subjected to the waves. The committee asked George whether he wanted to be a research subject, as he was one of the very few who had been programmed, the others being university students who had badly needed the money. While he was apprehensive of the scientists ‘messing with my mind’, particularly after the critical article that he wrote, he agreed to participate as he wanted his brain purged of the effect of the waves. When he made his return to their research room, his first words were “I know what you’re thinking.” There was an initial silence. Then they laughed.

This is what “flyover America” looks like. Nick Johnson has toured the United States, and has filmed what “middle Class” America looks like today. The sight is horrible. It is a car crash; a train wreck. It is a scene of near complete destruction and desolation. This video is both mesmerizing and disgusting. You just cannot pull your eyes off of the “exceptional United States”.

I wish that I could show some hope, but it’s gone. Long gone. There just ain’t anything left.

The good news is that a civilization, a person, a relationship MUST be completely destroyed and ground into the dust before it has any hope of growing back again.

Say you are a Car Company

You have a $ 5 Billion Investment in Canada, you have 18,500 workers in Canada and you have invested various profits you make, back into Canada

One day someone tells you that your cars costing $ 46,200 now costs $ 53,668 due to a 25% Tariff on the import price

The Customer has to pay $ 7,468 extra to buy your car

That’s an extra $ 221.72 a month he has to pay in Car Finance installments

So would that make you wrap up your $ 5 Billion Investment, sell your investments, cut your 18,500 workers and move to the US and start all over again?

It would cost you almost $ 10 Billion

So you would rather lose sales of upto 132,000 cars a year and lose $ 206 Million in Annual Profits

Much cheaper than uprooting your entire manufacturing and incurring a $ 10 Billion bill

Especially when you know Trump 2.0 is only for Four Years

Better lose $ 824 Million in 4 years versus spend $ 10 Billion

Thats the end result

Every exporter will embrace themselves for a cut in profits for four years

However US Consumers will pay higher prices that they would be forced to pay since they still have no alternative cheaper choice within the US


Unless US can replace these imports with local, cheaper alternates

This is inevitable

Only US Consumers will be affected badly and their buying power will reduce which will cut some profits to the Exporters

Still a far more affordable option than relocating entirely to US

Corn Chip Tamale Loaf

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3a0ddc31b44fc5062fe282df5cbc261d

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (16 ounce) can cream-style corn
  • 4 ounces corn chips
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon Mexican oregano
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1/2 pound ground chuck
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 tablespoon chili powder
  • 1 1/4 cans canned tomatoes
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 24 ripe olives

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Combine corn, corn chips, salt, pepper and oregano.
  3. Sauté garlic and meat in oil; add chili powder and tomatoes. Simmer for 5 minutes.
  4. Combine with first mixture. Add eggs and olives.
  5. Bake in a greased loaf pan for 1 hour.

The sea will kill you instantly if you do things wrong. There is no mercy at all.

Most people go around dreaming about a round-the-world sail, with your family and everyone tearing happily along. Like this:

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main qimg 0ba0ba7b2581e30779ba717fe0b56aa8 lq

Problem is that the oceans only behave like this part of the time. Without very much warning, things can swiftly turn into something like this:

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main qimg 403de648c0f01bf730359e746533a9f8 lq

«Ah» you say – «we’ve got weather satellites and technology and GPS and everything, can’t be that bad!»

And that might easily qualify as «famous last words»

The sea CAN be a beautiful place, but that’s only part of the picture. So many times have I been surprised by unannounced terrible weather, that I will forever flatly refuse any romantic notion of a round-the-world family cruise with anything less than a sturdy ship.

Here’s a 100m cargo ship in a perfectly normal storm. What would a 12m sailboat do in such weather?

main qimg d4943033ab7de57521863262ef015bac lq
main qimg d4943033ab7de57521863262ef015bac lq

Let’s talk about some news

Biden Lied About Everything: Philly Fed Finds All Jobs “Created” In Q2 Were Fake

Tuesday, Dec 17, 2024 – 06:00 AM

Back in August, many were surprised by the accuracy of our forecast, when we predicted that in its annual revision, the Biden Bureau of Labor Statistics would revise jobs for the April 2023-March 2024 period by “up to 1 million”, something which we said would mean that all job report “beats” recorded in the past year will have been misses and the US labor market is in far worse shape than the admin would admit.

The final results, as everyone knows by now, was a shocking 818K revision lower, just as the Philadelphia Fed had predicted 6 months prior, in March, when it calculated correctly that the Biden Department of Goalseeking Propaganda had overstated payrolls by “at least 800,000.”

The answer ended up 818,000 for the 12 month period ended March 31 (or about 68,000 per month) and the implied sharp deterioration to the job market was the main scapegoat used by the Fed to launch its easing cycle with a jumbo 50bps rate cut (now that “suddenly” the economic golden age pushed by the Biden propaganda regime, and trillions in debt, had just collapsed).

We mention all of this up because on Friday, the Philly Fed served up its latest shocker: not only did the Biden admin lie again, but the collapse in the labor market that had been covered up for much of the past year and was only exposed with the annual benchmark revision, extended into the second quarter.

“Estimates by the Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia indicate that the employment changes from March through June 2024 were significantly different” – read lower – “in 27 states compared with preliminary state estimates from the Bureau of Labor Statistics’ (BLS) Current Employment Statistics (CES)”, the Philly Fed said on December 12.

“According to the early benchmark (EB) estimates conducted by the Phily Fed, employment was lower in 25 states, higher in two states, and lesser changes in the remaining 23 states and the District of Columbia.”

Translation: 23 states unchanged, 1 revised higher…  and 25 lower. The breakdown is shown below.

states revised philly
states revised philly

Maybe someone can calculate what the odds of that distribution occurring naturally are, but here is our guess: virtually nil. Which is why would make such a loud stink every month after the Biden BLS revised jobs data lower month after month after month. The whole point was to make the labor market appear stronger than it was, then to gradually revised it all away. And now the Philadelphia Fed confirms – again – that we were right all along.

And so, after it first revised the 12 months ending March 31 by 818K, the downgrads extended into the second quarter of 2024, when the Philadelphia Fed early benchmark estimates showed that instead of the 1.1% gain shown initially by the BLS, payroll jobs in the 50 states and the District of Columbia were actually down 0.1%!

US job revisions 0
US job revisions 0

By state, the regional Fed bank estimates that largest revision of employment for the nine-month period ended in June will come from California, where it sees a downward revision of 172,700 jobs. Payrolls in Texas may be revised down by 112,100. An extended forecast by the BLS to the third quarter show further declines as well.

And while we don’t yet know the specifics of the revisions – those will be revealed on Feb 7, 2025 when the final numbers are published – at the national level, we do know that all the jobs reportedly “created” in the second quarter, were actually fake, there were no net jobs created at all, and in fact, the US lost jobs in Q2!

monthly nonfarms
monthly nonfarms

Translation: in his latest attempt to create an impression of economic growth, Biden lied about everything, again.

Source: Philly Fed

I drink alcohol every day. Not all day. From lunchtime. I have a couple then do housework or nap or write. Then wait for my partner and we eat and socialize together.

For me it is an enjoyable habit that most would frown upon. The “most” being people who smoke pot, have never worked, are obese due to unrecognized food addiction, who have their own little addictions they wouldn’t admit to. Porn. Sugar. That sort of thing.

I like Gin & Tonic. Nothing else unless out socializing and then I like bourbon. Im in bed for 9. Up at 5. I walk & run daily between 7&14k steps. My homes are clean and tidy. I cook every day delicious food. I am “retired” now at 44 because I did my 25 yrs working full time. I don’t like people enough to work for them anymore. Thanks to inheritence and a business plan for holiday rentals, and having 4 books out, I don’t have to work traditionally. But I’m not lazy or unclean or chaotic.

My partner and I have fun. Are active sexually. I’m not sick. I don’t pee the bed. I don’t fall asleep in odd places or find myself in risk situations. We go places. I’m not some isolated blubbering wreck.

I’m ambitious and will finish renovating this villa and buy 1 or 2 more. I like being busy but on my terms.

People like to judge or imagine drinkers as ugly unhealthy fat losers. That’s not drink. That’s personality.

My personality is busy, happy, outgoing, but I’m also an introvert. Booze doesn’t change me. The only time booze has been an issue is if I’m already deeply stressed and upset about something and the booze makes me impulsive. But maybe a couple times a year?

I’d act out when sober in just same way.

main qimg 7baf0f63a3a0a3993c9f2e35eca34ae4
main qimg 7baf0f63a3a0a3993c9f2e35eca34ae4

Does a thief/robber care about the victim? Of course not. Below is my earlier post.

There are many reasons why Trump 2.0 imposes high tariff on ALL countries in the world. Below is 1 reason.

The big picture: Elon Musk said US economy is collapsing. Its debts is sky high at $36 tn as of 2024/11. With a skyrocket speed to increase debt from $10 tn in 2008, to $20 tn in 2016, to $36 tn in 2024.

USA has 2 deficits: budget deficit (ie overspending) & trade deficit due to deindustrialisation. In 2024, US budget deficit is $1.9 tn ie 125% of GDP. US trade deficit with China, alone, is US$800 billion. US has trade deficit with most countries in the world.

With $6.74 tn of bonds (ie 1/6 of total $36 tn) expiring in 2025 + $1.9 tn budget deficit in 2024, USA must borrow again & will increase US debt by $8.64 tn in 2025. Minimum.

Just paying interest on the debts already costs USA $882 billion in 2024 ie $3 bn per DAY (source: US Treasury Dept). Its debt increases by $8.7 bn per 24 hours. … indeed rocket speed. E.Musk was not joking when he said US is broke.

USA makes tons of $$$ from wars. But wars only benefit MIC & Wall Street. Not USA the country because the rich dont pay tax. Thus USA must rob others thru tariff, regardless allies or not.

Trump 1.0 ended Syrian war. Then illegally occupied Syrian oil field ie rob Syrian oil (80% production). Who pockets the Syrian oil money? US gov or MIC? USA robs Iraqi oil too after Iraqi war.

Tariff causes inflation. Without cheap goods from China & Mexico, US inflation will be sky high too.

Yet, Trump 2.0 imposes crazily high tariff on ALL countries = violently rob them to feed USA like mafia in movie. Because USA is truly broke.

Inside USA, tariff on foreign country = tax increase on Americans because foreign sellers will add (part of) the tariff to the sale price of their exported goods to USA. In Trump 1.0, 90% of tariff was added to the sale price by foreign sellers.

In both Trump 1.0 & 2.0, Trump has & will decrease tax to attract votes. How to recover the loss of revenue incurred from tax decrease? Use tariff to cause inflation so that all Americans pay a bit ie use tariff to disguise tax increase.

We must understand: 60% tariff on Chinese imports & 20% on smaller countries is crazily unreasonable. Not many firms can make 60% of profit. Not even 20% for small firms/countries. Nobody will do business with no profit. Thus, decouple & stop/reduce sale to USA is the only option.

In fact, decoupling may be the plan of Trump 2.0. Trump may want USA to start all over again by manufacturing its own products from toilet paper to Trump’s campaign cap to washer etc. Trump wants everything to be made in USA.

US wage is higher than southeast Asia. That is Made-in-USA is more expensive. Trouble is whether USA will increase the wage to catch up with the inflated consumer products. Otherwise Americans will become poorer.

Trump 1.0 failed to attract US investors back to USA. Some still stayed in China. Some moved from China to, say, Thailand to do a finish touch on the Chinese products. This disguise of made-in-Thailand products also pushes up the American consumer price.

Let us watch Trump 2.0 to roll out.

All Three Pillars Holding Up The Economy Have Cracked

Wednesday, Dec 18, 2024 – 05:40 AM

Authored by Charles Hugh Smith via OfTwoMinds blog,

All three pillars propping up workforce spending are cracking. Plan accordingly.

Karl Marx and Henry Ford both understood the key pillar of an industrial economy: the workforce has to earn enough to buy the output of the economy. If the workforce doesn’t earn enough to have surplus earnings to spend on the enormous output of an industrial economy, then the producers cannot sell their goods / services at a profit, except to the few at the top as luxury goods–and that’s not an industrial economy, it’s a feudal economy of very limited scope.

Marx recognized that capitalism is a self-liquidating system as capital has the power to squeeze wages even as the output of an industrial economy steadily increases due to automation, technology, etc.

Henry Ford understood that if his own workforce couldn’t afford to buy the cars rolling off the assembly line, then his ambition to sell a car to every household was an unreachable chimera. (There were other factors, of course; the work was so brutal and mind-numbing that Ford had to pay more just to keep workers from quitting.)

If we say the three pillars holding up the economy, the conventional list is: 1) consumer spending (i.e. aggregate demand); 2) productivity and 3) corporate profits. These are not actually pillars, they are outcomes of the core pillar, wage earners making enough to buy the economy’s output.

As the statistics often cited here show, the purchasing power of wages has been declining for almost 50 years, since the mid-1970s. This means the workforce’s surplus earnings have bought less and less of the economy’s output.

There are three ways to fill the widening gap that’s opened between what the workforce has to spend as surplus earnings and the vast output of the economy:

1. Government distributed money. The government distributes “free money” to the workforce via subsidies, tax cuts and credits, or direct cash disbursements.

2. Cheap abundant credit. The cost of credit is lowered to near-zero and credit is made available to virtually the entire workforce so workers can borrow money to buy goods and services they cannot afford to buy from surplus earnings. If auto loans are 1.9%, the interest is a trivial sum annually.

3. Asset bubbles. Boost the value of assets via monetary policies to generate unearned “wealth” that can be spent (by either borrowing against the newfound wealth or by selling assets). This expansion of “free money” also generates the “wealth effect,” the feel-good high of feeling richer, which increases the confidence and desire to spend more money.

There are intrinsic, unbreachable limits to each of these solutions.

1. The government either “prints” or borrows the money it distributes to the workforce. Over time, low interest rates are unsustainable, despite claims to the contrary, and the interest paid on the state’s vast borrowing consumes so much of the state’s revenues that it starts limiting how much the government can spend. Once state spending stagnates or declines, this pillar breaks and the economy crumbles into recession / depression.

In other words, depending on the government to fill the gap between wages and the economy’s output is a self-liquidating system.

2. The expansion of credit leads to defaults and bankruptcies. Relying on the ceaseless expansion of credit based on the declining purchasing power of wages is also a self-liquidating system, as the number of marginal borrowers steadily increases, as does the volume of marginal loans issued by lenders. Marginal borrowers default, triggering losses that push lenders into bankruptcy. This is a self-reinforcing cycle, as the economy rolls over into recession as credit contracts. More workers lose their jobs and default, more loans become uncollectible, and so on.

3. Asset bubbles concentrate the newfound wealth in the top 10%, exacerbating wealth-income inequality and pushing those left behind to gamble in an increasingly speculative financial sector as the only available means of getting ahead. Speculation is also a self-liquidating system as risky bets eventually go bad and the losses trigger a self-reinforcing feedback of selling assets to raise cash which then pushes valuations lower, triggering more selling, and so on.

All three of these pillars propping up the economy are self-liquidating systems, and they’re all buckling. Federal borrowing is pushing up against the limits posed by the interest payments on soaring debt. Credit costs are rising and cannot return to near-zero due to inflationary forces. All asset bubbles eventually pop, and the higher they ascend, the more devastating the collapse.

Wages’ share of the economy have been in structural decline since 1975:

wages share4 24a (2) 2
wages share4 24a (2) 2

Federal debt: and no, we can’t “grow our way out of debt” by inflating asset bubbles and subsidizing consumer spending with federal debt:

federal debt6 24a 1
federal debt6 24a 1

Total debt, public and private: the acme of a self-liquidating system:

TCMDO6 24a (1) 1
TCMDO6 24a (1) 1

The pillars of consumer credit and federal borrowing are reaching intrinsic breaking points, and so everything is now depending on the asset bubbles in housing and stocks to keep inflating phantom wealth at rates high enough to support more borrowing and spending.

The problem is all asset bubbles pop, despite claims that “this is a new era.” That was widely held in March 2000, too, just before the dot-com bubble burst and the Nasdaq fell 80%.

dot com bubble2 2
dot com bubble2 2

All three pillars propping up workforce spending are cracking. Plan accordingly.

40 Brutal Truths Men Wished Women Knew

Karma hits Park Sacramento

I work for Tom Dwyer Automotive in Portland. When I was just getting started as the Shuttle Driver, I listened to our Advisors and our owner say “no” to a client for the best of all possible reasons.

The client had an old car that needed about $3000 worth of work, back in the day when that was a LOT of money. It was all legitimate stuff he needed to keep the vehicle safe and functional. But our Service Advisor called him about it and said “sir, we’ve taken the liberty of checking the value on your car and it’s only worth about $3500. There’s just not enough value to the vehicle to justify repairing it. We recommend you skip the work, sell the car, and use the money you saved as a down payment on a new one.”

The client wasn’t upset, but he was disappointed. “No,” he said, “I’ve been driving this car for years. It’s my baby, and I really love it. It’s worth it to me… go ahead and do the work.”

He and the Service Advisor went back and forth a little until Tom himself got involved. “Sir,” he said, “when the man who stands to make $3000 off of you tells you not to do it, LISTEN TO HIM!”

The client sold the vehicle, brought his new one to us to service, and is a client to this day. I’ve since heard the same story from some of our other clients about their cars. Our company will FIGHT WITH A CLIENT rather than spend their money poorly!

That told me everything I needed to know about our company, and it’s a big part of the reason I’m still here after 15 years.

Easy answer.

When I play battletech (table top), Warhammer (table top) there’s a set of rules that are written down. I don’t play them so much but the Nephews love it. They’re in black and white, they’re codified. This means that when you play games there’s expected movements, outcomes and it is predictable. Same with any thing chess

VAT rules

But INTERNATIONAL RULES BASED ORDER is not in black and white.

It’s a polymorph in that it changes whenever they feel like it.

As such it’s like playing a game where the other player will change the rules on the fly to ensure that they win and you lose no matter what.

So lets go back to the original question

What did my friend mean by when he told me that the Western world undermined by themselves the rules-based international order?

Western world invasions are BAD!

Western world invades other countries BUT IT’S DIFFERENT WHEN I DO IT!!!

Western world forces business practices – say opium wars on China this is GOOD!

China offers people the chance to buy things, this is BAD!

In short the western world acts like the twatty friend you played a few games with and never played with again.

It is difficult to define “poor” in China anymore.

If you meant the not-as-well-to-do-country-folks, then yes, many folks living far away from cities do not have as much cash to exchange for high-value proteins, especially in high-quality beef and especially dairy products.

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0ae20020b79af9c0a0af64bd896aca36

As my travel took me to various corners and backwoods of China ( and I often traveled alone and on public transports), I had never seen dire poverty. People in the vast under-developed mountainous regions do not live “well” in the eye of modern valuation terms, but in general, they are content and have sufficient to eat. In a terraced region in Yunan, I was invited to eat with the long-haul bus driver’s family after I discovered all eating places were closed for the night.

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e8520c8e7f6ea00eb718f4e8f045b67b

The menu was:

  1. fresh veggies from his garden, quick-fried with garlic and salt
  2. Bamboo shoots, freshly picked, quick-fried. with shredded pork
  3. tomato and tofu, braised together
  4. egg soup, with green onion and parsley ( with some lard)

It was a good gratifying meal to me and may well be sufficient to many who do not aspire for excessively processed foods, or highly “desired cuts” or aged wines.

In general, fresh cold milk is a luxury in China, even in big cities. In small towns, you will not be able to find any store which is willing to pay for refrigeration. In Tibet and Xinjiang, you can often local peddling “warm milk” on the street. It’s ok to drink it.

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0f02372424c0f981f639a6163086ad50

The US incited the Ukraine Russia war, sabotaged the Nord stream pipelines to have de-industrialized EU, blew up the Red Sea cables and made the Red Sea into war zone to commit genocide in Gaza and block the international trade route in Red Sea.

Now the US and Lithuania have cut off Baltic Sea cables and blame China in order to make a division between EU and China.

It is notorious that the US style of democracy, human rights and freedom are Genocidal, terrorists, lying, stealing, cheating, the root of all evil, the common enemy of the world, and the cancer of the Universe.


The international community has stopped using and buying any common commodities made by the US and US’ allies, especially the communication device made from the US, Japan & Taiwan.
They are truly the US style of democratic terrorist countries in the world.
———————

A. The Facts

The latest pagers & walkers-talkies‘ explosions in Lebanon demonstrate that the US, the US so-called allies, even whole West electronic products such as iPhones, communication network etc. are not just stealing all information, spying on you, but also embedded with explosive which can be detonated remotely to kill people. Snowden and Gina Raimondo have already revealed it.

So, the safest way is to buy Chinese products made in China such as Huawei 5G and smartphones or any electronic products. Huawei 5G products are the world most advanced, secured, the safest and spy-proof products.

B. The Bloody Lessons

The bloody lessons show that the US so-called National Security is to be able to put explosives into their common commodities and detonate them remotely at any time to kill more civilians who they want.

Any secured, safe and spy-proof products such as Huawei 5G and smartphones etc. products which the US and its allies are unable to spy and put explosive are threats to the US & the US national security.

That’ why the US is changing its supply chains so that the US can control them and then put explosive in their common commodities to kill more civilians whom they want. Remember the US is not just spying through their products, but also exploding them to kill civilians they want.

For your lives, stop using the US & the US allies products, especially the communications device immediately now! The US and its allies are not just spying and stealing from their device, but also detonating them to kill you when the US deemed necessary!

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China is a Nation of Laws

They are rigid with the Law

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There are three laws to govern Overseas Mainlanders

Control of Exit and Entry of Citizens Act

Protection of Rights & Interests of Returned Overseas Chinese Nationals

Protection of Rights & Interests of Families of Overseas Chinese Nationals

There is absolutely no law that demands anyone forcefully bring Children back into China as hostages

Xi Jinping isn’t Trump that he can insanely make decisions like that

He doesn’t have the legal authority


PLA officers & Senior Party Officials are bound by the law in the following way

  • Needing Exit Visa to leave China on any Non Official Duty
  • Declare all foreign held accounts regardless of Active Or Inactive status every 6 months
  • Declare SOURCE OF FUNDS for any education of a Child in a foreign institution
  • Declare any family members in extended family upto 3 generations living or resident outside Mainland China, Hongkong and Macau
  • Not belong to any organization banned in China nor have any affiliation with branches of such organizations outside of the Mainland
  • To report any contact or relationship either to self or family while outside the Mainland including Live in Partnerships, Marriages contracted to foreigners, Surgery under Anesthesia performed by a Doctor Who is not a Mainland Citizen

Qin Gang violated the law by not reporting a relationship with a Hong Kong Resident holding Overseas Passport who had applied for a US Green Card and having a Child in US through Surrogacy

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The West blackmailed him.

But,  he wisely immediately confessed to his superiors, rather than agreeing to be a spy for the United States.

He was dealt with accordingly.

He was merely expelled with lifetime ban from travel outside China and 10 year ban from travel outside Province

Otherwise it would have been death

Li Shangfu didn’t declare 4 accounts held in offshore banks

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He claimed they were all having very low balances and he had forgotten about them

He claimed they were inactive

Yet since Switzerland obviously wouldn’t give statement of accounts to the CPC, the assumption was that he was dirty and he was fired and under investigation

Finally my guess is he got access and proved that his accounts didn’t have millions of dollars at any point of time

So he lost his position of trust but his life is safe

In fact if a Chinese General ruptures an appendix in UK, he needs to be operated in a Chinese approved hospital or his surgical team has to be approved by the Resident in the Consulate (Usually MSS)

In case he blabs something during anesthesia

If the son of a Chinese Colonel is caught in a police case, the Colonel must immediately notify the Military Commission and cannot leave China in case the Boy is offered leniency in exchange for information by the father

The Consulate will jump into action

The Colonel cannot even talk to the boy,nor can his wife

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Under Hu Jintao, these rules were ignored merrily

However under Xi Jinping all these rules have been BRUTALLY REINFORCED

If the son of a Chinese PLA Officer studying in US joins a Free Taiwan protest, the PLA Officer can be arrested immediately and interrogated and fired and forbidden to leave China for the rest of his life

Point is – All of it is the LAW and every Chinese leaving overseas will be told what the law is like

Chinese studying overseas have briefings where they are told what the law is like and what to do and whom to contact

My sons friends in Graduate Quarters NTU had to notify the Consulate of China in Singapore when they attended the Chinese Debates held by the University Debating Society

It’s routine but if they didn’t do it, and someone found out – they would face a lot of issues

So it’s BUILT INTO THEM

Children of Party Officials and Military Officials are far more aware of the rules and procedures

Many times Consular Staff who are Chinese and between 18–25 years and unmarried are urged to develop relationships with mainlanders studying in Overseas Institutions so that honey traps are lesser and lesser

So Xi has no extra authority to do something so stupid like holding kids hostage

You simply FOLLOW THE LAW AND RULES

In China the Law is rigid , that’s the only thing

It’s not flexible like in other nations

Mistakes made by some people can be very dangerous

I SET UP A TRIP TO PROPOSE, BUT SHE BROUGHT FRIENDS, IGNORED ME, AND I DECIDED TO TAKE REVENGE

The Wayback Machine

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No.

It’s not risky at all, if the US deploys aircraft carriers close to its shores, or other important international waterways, under the request of local governments or the UN.

However, if the US unilaterally deploys aircraft carriers to China’s coast, interfere in China’s civil war over Taiwan, or even attack mainland China, then American carriers are as good as dead. China will go after them just like how the US would go after Chinese carriers if they arrive unannounced in Chesapeake bay and start bombing American cities.

Drones and missiles are cheap and effective and bloodless, they will work great against the big and slow carriers in the Pacific, just like how drones destroy tanks in Ukraine. American carrier battlegroups can have the most cutting-edge anti air missiles, but they can only carry so many, and they can’t produce missiles in the middle of the ocean, while China is not called “the world factory” for nothing. If China wants, it can throw 1000 anti-ship missile/drone at each US carrier, and no matter how advanced the American defense is, it will be overwhelmed.

And China knows this, that’s why it spearheads drone and hypersonic tech. Look at the below declassified Chinese hypersonic drones tests back in 2020. A drone carrying a drone. It’s an interesting concept where China can hit American carriers without any Chinese casualties. Everything in the kill chain’s expendable.

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The Simpsons Predictions For 2025 Will Blow Your Mind

The Unwelcomed Newcomer

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

T.S.A. Maiven

“Please, don’t do it!” I pleaded to my human while I pressed my soft furry head into her leg with earnest. I jumped up onto her lap gracefully and repeated my signature move against her torso. Finally, going in for the kill-her-with-cuteness move to get her to understand my plea, I stretched my slender delicate figure upwards so that my paws rested daintily on her chest and my head matched the height of her own. Again, using my cuteness as a weapon of persuasion, I pressed my silky face hard against her fleshy hairless cheek before I switched tactics.

I began to lick her chin to get her to comprehend my declaration and change her mind. I needed her to hear what I was saying instead of only hearing my distinguished sounding meow that came out of my throat, over my sandpaper tongue and out through my beautifully whiskered lips. I was telling her how I felt as I repeated my exclamation, “Please, don’t do it!” Alas, once again she only heard my sweet but determined meow as she kissed my head and purred back at me that she loved me so much and was I hungry? My human sometimes frustrated me to the point of thinking her as ignorant or simply plain stupid. How could she be so oblivious to what I was very clearly saying to her? I jumped off her lap in a gentle silent leap and sat upon the carpet next to her ridiculous looking paws and meowed again, much louder this time to show her my irritation at her listening and perception skills.

Once again she ignored my proclamation as the only response I received were more kisses on my head as she picked me up and cuddled me right into her chest.

“Okay my little baby, lets get you some food my sweet Princess,” was what she purred back in the middle of my tender snuggle. As she carried me towards the kitchen to get me food, the food I did not ask for, I could not help but feel disappointed in her. Even though I loved it when she nuzzled me like that, she still had not bothered to listen to what I urgently stated. Or worse, which I suspected was the case, she did not even understand what I was meowing to her. I loved her so much, as in return she did me, I nonetheless could not help but feel perplexed at her apparent lack of desire to grasp what my variety of meows and purrs meant. The time and effort I put into learning her language, Stephanie had not reciprocated.

The first thing I learned were our names; hers being Stephanie and I, Princess. I am not saying it was not hard some days, I was merely a kitten at the time, but within a few months of our daily interactions together, I had figured out what her foreign meows meant. I had overheard an exchange of meows she had over the phone with another human whom she referred to as her best friend Tara. Not only did Stephanie talk about another cat joining our home, but I also winced when she mentioned the new cat would be coming from Roam A.I., a company I was personally against. An enemy of not only real cats, but real cat lovers everywhere. How shocked I was to hear Stephanie even considering such a thing. This was what I had been pleading with her not to do.

I discovered this company’s existence on a beautiful summer day when the sizzling heat of the high noon sun was easily melting the paint off houses. I would rather the sun burn the houses than have it burning my back while I explored the adventures laying outside the house. Instead of exploring that day, I chose to be in the cool temperature of the air conditioner inside while sitting on Stephanie’s comfortable lap and petted blissfully. Stephanie had curled up on the chair printed with a motif of large, colorful flowers, the most enjoyable to sit on as she watched what humans called television. That was when I first saw the infomercial about Roam A.I. They claimed to be ahead of their time, as well as ahead of their competition, regarding Artificial Intelligence. That was an unfamiliar remark for me, ‘Artificial Intelligence,’ so I decided to watch and learn another new human thing.

From the television I heard them say, “Our team here at Roam A.I. are ready to make our advances in the science of technology and expertise in Artificial Intelligence available to the public. We have truly become a family at Roam A.I. all due to our daily dedication to creating the highest caliber of service and A.I. products possible. We invite you to join us in making our family bigger. Every client will become family once they experience how the personalization of our products will be unique to every single one of you. Not to mention how closely our service team will collaborate with you until your product is exactly right for your wants, needs and desires. We are far above our competition when it comes to A.I. that we do not even entertain the thought of having competition. Our family are immensely ahead of our time ever since we first embraced the special, personalized technology of Artificial Intelligence. You will meet with us at our state-of-the-art facility with the most modern and revolutionary computerized A.I. components to have your product finalized. You will have then ensured your position in the Roam A.I. family, playing a vital role of being on the forefront of those around you. Your neighbours, friends, and family will be in awe of the newest, most impressive, most realistic and fastest learning A.I. creation you have added to your household to enrich your life.”

I could not help but let out a yawn that was so big my mouth practically matched the gaping crevasse called the Grand Canyon. This television show was boring me. But I had nuzzled on Stephanie’s lap in such a perfectly comfortable position I was not going to leave. Besides, even though it may have killed me, I was very curious to find out what the amazing products were that they mentioned. So, I continued to watch.

“Using only the highest quality robotics,” the self-assurance and confidence of the man talking was practically jumping out of the screen and oozing all over our heads and into our ears and dripping off our bodies. I could see humans getting excited over this company. I was bored though but was too comfortable to move, and my deadly curiosity had taken over.

“Using only the highest quality robotics, we are bringing the next generation of companions to A.I. life, and into your home for years to come. Starting small I would love to introduce you to everyone’s favourite pets, mans best friend, the most loyal and easily trained dog as well as the adorable, stubbornly independent house cat. The cat meowed as if on cue”

My interest suddenly piqued. What kind of meow had I heard? I did not understand what that cat was saying. She was a beautiful cat I had to admit. Everything about her seemed so perfect and she was just gleaming. The coat she wore was quite fine. Was it a trick of the television cameras and the lighting that enhanced her breathtaking colors? White, orange, and black intertwined all over that thick, luxurious, fluffy coat. As fluffy as a cloud that was grabbed from the sky and placed right on her. I was impressed with the beauty of this cat but there was something eerily wrong with her. Was it her incomprehensible meow or the way she sat in one spot? She was not even licking herself or sniffing at the dog. She was so well-behaved; it just did not make sense. I had tuned out while they spoke of the dog, I was distracted by the unique and suspiciously different behavior over this gorgeous feline that Roam A.I. was calling a product. How can a cat be a product? I know the word product well. My cat food is a product, as is my brand-new red collar covered with tiny rhinestones that sparkle and shimmer almost as much as my lovely green eyes. Products are things Stephanie puts on a shopping list and brings home for us to eat or use. Like my new toy who I fondly call mousey. I know its not a real mouse, but he was so much fun to play with, especially when my human stuffs him full of catnip! Then I bite him even harder and hold him in my front paws and kick him repeatedly with my hind legs. I had already torn him open twice, but my wonderful human stitches him back together for me. She really loves me. I turned my attention back to the television.

“So, when you think of cats what do we love about them? Of course, the companionship, how cute they are and how nice they are to cuddle with. But there are downfalls that Roam A.I. has taken care of. Just like our dog, the A.I. cat has no need to eat or drink which solves another messy downfall, the litterbox!” The commentor of this infomercial is sounding so excited about this I could understand why humans would do whatever he said.

I was in shock. I licked my paw vigorously and then ran it over my face and licked it again to rub my eyes and my ears. What sorcery was this? Did I hear that right? Was I seeing things? How was it possible that a cat could go without luxuries such as food, water and a litterbox? I absolutely loved when my human said, “Come get some delicious dinner.” That meant I was getting wet food and not just dry food. And wet food was delicious. Then lapping up cool water? Positively divine! As for the litterbox, how could you deprive a cat of the delightful pleasure it was to sink one’s paws into the grainy sand? To get to dig and flail the sand about was so much fun and such a joy! Not to mention how gratifying it was to bury your waste. I adored my litterbox. In fact, I believe that my kind and loving human Stephanie would also love a litterbox of her own. She was playing videos for her bestie Tara when she returned from what she called a tropical island vacation. As usual my curiosity was not held back, and I watched too. Well, there she was in a huge litterbox full of sand as far as the eye could see and she was playing in it, digging, and squishing her silly looking paws in it and she was having a wonderful time. Seems to me she would love a litterbox.

Back on the television the man continued, “The first one hundred callers get a consult with one of our specialists so they can bring home their robot companion, Dog or Cat, for a special rate of twenty percent off. Remember these adorable creatures will be programmed with the characteristics you decide. They are instilled with whatever tricks you want them to do and command words to control them. Then you can watch your new A.I. robot grow into their personality the longer you are with them. That is right, they will learn from their environment and from you how to behave and what makes you happy. I know this is all fascinating and unbelievable at the same time, which is why I urge you to make that phone call today.”

That was it. I could not watch anymore. My curiosity was sated and replaced with disgust. No wonder I could not understand that cat’s meow. She was not even a cat! She was a robot. She looked so real it was scary. I stretched my body as far as it would go, emulating a rubber band, elongating my stiff muscles from sitting in one spot for too long. I sprang from lap to floor and immediately ate food and used my litter box. Robot cats without food and litter? As I dug and flicked sand everywhere I thought about the cat with the creepy vibe she gave off because she looked completely real but was not. That was why I did not understand her meow, why her coat was gorgeous, and she looked so perfect. She was a robot! She could not even be called ‘she.’ She was an ‘it.’

I expected Stephanie to be as appalled as I was but instead, she looked extremely interested as she was now leaning forward and even picked up a pen and paper to make notes. The next day was when I heard her talking about getting one of those “cats.” No, I can not even in good conscience refer to that “thing” as a cat. Talking about getting that A.I product was more like it. I overheard her saying how nice it would be for me to have a friend in our house and how she could program that thing to be submissive so it would not even fight with me for territory. She mentioned how adorable these A.I robot things were and how she would save money by not having to purchase extra food and litter but would still have the advantage of having a second cat.

Well, that was it! My ears had me completely dismayed by what they were hearing. I did not want another cat in my home, much less a robot one pretending to be a real cat. I did not need a friend. I had Stephanie and the cats I know from exploring the outdoors. I wondered what I could do to get my human to change her mind.

A month had gone by and her new A.I. cat was supposed to be arriving any day. I had been unsuccessful in changing her mind, though I still pleaded with her everyday not to do it. To add to my displeasure, she started getting excited and constantly reminding me that my new friend would be coming soon. Despite my disapproval, the day was upon us when this robot thing showed up at my house. Stephanie was so excited she placed the robot cat right in front of me and said, “Have fun with your new friend. Her name is Duchess, not as important as my royal Princess but still royal enough to be granted permission to sit with you. I will always love you the most my baby Princess,” and stroked my body lovingly. Good. At least I was reassured that I was still number one around here.

I circled this fake yet unbelievably realistic version of a cat that Roam A.I. had masterminded. I sniffed her and surprisingly the robot sniffed me right back, although more slowly with a hint of trepidation. I touched Duchess with my paw and was startled because she felt so much like me. Underneath her glowing fur, I was expecting the A.I. cat to feel more like the exterior of a car, hard metal that is quite unbitable. I pressed my paw into the body of this flawlessly feline looking computer harder this time to further investigate not only how she felt but how she would react. I knew she was not real, but this thing might make a fun new toy for me. She certainly would never be my friend, as Stephanie suggested, but I could always use a new toy. Duchess did not move so I meowed loudly at her and bit into her neck. It was soft and chewy but drew no blood. This cat meowed back at me, meekly and mildly like the nervous newcomer she was, giving me even more superiority, and ran under the kitchen table like a scaredy cat! I still did not understand her meow, it was so foreign, hollow, and plainly fake sounding. It reminded me again that she is just fake masquerading as real. I decided that I did not even want this thing as a toy. It was simply wrong to look and feel so real while Roam A.I. attempted to pass these things off as natural cats.

Then Stephanie practically scolded me as I heard her meow to me, “Princess! Play nice. Duchess is new and I made sure she was submissive so she would not fight with you. Be more polite like the Princess you are.” I did not like being told how to treat my new toy no matter how real it looked. I pounced on Duchess like I would pounce on mousey and grabbed her by the neck with my sharp teeth holding her still underneath me. I know she is not a real cat, but she is suddenly so much fun to play with, and I know how to get rid of her just like when I tear Mousey open. I bit her even harder and held her in my front paws and kicked her repeatedly with my hind legs. I could not believe she was not fighting back! I continued to bite and scratch and kick her with such force that quickly her eyes lost their glow and she lay motionless. I had succeeded in destroying my new toy. All my disappointment in Stephanie for even getting Duchess disappeared and I could finally relax again as the lone cat in the house. I looked into Stephanie’s shocked face and rubbed my body into her legs triumphantly. I meowed at her, “I am happier without an A.I. cat. Please do not be mad at me,” with wide innocent eyes. Stephanie had Duchess in her arms, and she purred back, “I am certainly glad this thing is under warranty Princess.” Another new human thing to learn! I would soon find out what warranty meant.

What do poor people in China eat?

Rice Porridge, Noodles, Bok Choy, Red Bean Paste Crepes, Tofu

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They also eat Shredded/Minced Pork or Beef twice a week with Vinegar and Soy Sauce

Chinese eat very well

Even the poorest Chinese averages 1790 calories a day as per the World Hunger Index

Food is extremely affordable

In the Rural Areas, the Villagers get huge subsidy coupons for a specific quantity of Rice, Soy Sauce, Vinegar, Pork or Beef & Soybeans every month

They only pay for Seafood, Noodles & Red Chillies Paste & Red Bean Paste

Poor illiterate peasants in Chinese Villages

Rural Enrollment stood at 97.1% in 2012

It was 99.25% in 2023

It was 95.7% in 2005

So roughly 96.94% Rural Chinese aged between 18–24 years of age today are literate

So let’s assume 97% Rural Chinese between 18–24 are literate

98.3% Rural Chinese aged younger than 18 are Literate

Enrollment rate was 85.40% in 1990 & 95.7% in 2005

This means around 91.35% Rural Chinese between 24 & 39 years are Literate

Enrollment rate was 69.63% in 1975 & 85.40 in 1990

This means around 79.75% of Rural Chinese between 39 & 54 years are Literate

Enrollment rate was 38.25% in 1957 & 69.63% in 1975

This means around 50.88% of Rural Chinese between 54 & 72 years of age are Literate

Conclusion :-

5–18 Years – 99.25%

18–24 Years – 97%

24–39 Years – 92%

39–54 Years – 80%

54–72 Years – 51%

Extrapolating we get that almost 85% Rural Chinese upto 50 years old are Literate


Definition of Literate :-

  • Read and Write 1500 Chinese Characters
  • Basic Education for 9 years (1976-Present) , Upto 15th Year (1949–1976)

Definition of Enrollment :-

  • Enrolled in Rural Or District School at the age of 5 years of age as per State Law (1976-) 6 years of age as per State Law (1949–1976)

Everyday Barbacoa Beef

This Everyday Beef Barbacoa is versatile and can be served on tortillas, chips or lettuce.

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Ingredients

Beef

  • 3-5 pounds beef cheek or chuck roast, cut into 4 inch pieces
  • 1 cup orange juice
  • 1/2 cup lime juice
  • 1 cup water
  • 1/2 can chipotle in adobo, diced
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 5 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1 onion, diced

Optional

  • Tortillas
  • Cilantro
  • Onion
  • Lime wedges

Instructions

  1. Combine all ingredients into a large bowl. Cover and marinate for 2 to 24 hours.
  2. Add marinated beef and leftover marinade to cooker. Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours or until fork tender.
  3. Carefully remove beef from cooker with little sauce as possible. Placing on a cutting board, shred beef with two forks and return to cooker. Cook for additional 10 minutes to absorb remaining liquid.
  4. If desired, crisp meat in a cast-iron skillet before serving.

I cannot speak as non Chinese I am a Chinese origin Born in Malaysia but now a Singaporean but I do Business and live in Malaysia. So I can say how Chinese people see westerners. We dont want them to be a bankrupt and a failure, as that would not be a good Customer. Chinese people think that there are no permanent enemy or friends. There are only interest of the nation which may change from time to time!

We don’t hate the west but we are mindful of the evil deeds that you had shown from doing genocides to murder all the natives to steal their land and causing deaths and destructions to remain the hegemonic nation. We won’t allow that and we will help other nations to stop your shit too. We don’t hate you but we hate your evil acts. China wants to make a better world not one with some hypocrite murderous regime pretending to care for the world but setting rules to rob and plunder.

The west, some racist and Sinophobic racial superiority complex minded group do hate China but to be fair they also call Latinos rapist and murderers, slavic as scum of the world and Africa as shit hole countries! Sure the cannot stand China preventing them from further thievery and plunder but 95% of the world thinks that China and Chinese is great and doing justice.

Drones have already surpassed the effective firepower of Javelin missiles.

A single Javelin launcher costs upwards of $180,000 US dollars and is typically only used once. It has a high probability kill rate, but cannot be used in some environments (dense urban areas, for example) and gives away the location of the user, albeit from a far distance.

Firing an FJM-148 Javelin

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On the other hand, an average commercial drone that is capable of carrying a 2kg shaped charge will cost less than a $1000 and can do the exact same job as a Javelin. And if the drone doesn’t work as efficiently as a Javelin might, then no worries! You can buy 5, 10, even 100 more drones and it will still cost less than what a single Javelin launcher does.

Drones are also incredibly multi-purpose because they can attack different kinds of soft targets that Javelin launchers aren’t meant to be used against, such as infantry and high-speed transports (motorcycles, ATV’s etc). Drones can be additionally used for overhead surveillance, which is an extremely valuable tool on any modern battlefield.

Cheap camera drones relay consistent battlefield info that could only be previously be done by satellites or multi-million dollar surveillance aircraft

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Now, I’m not trying to say that the Javelin is an obsolete or now redundant weapon, because it isn’t. But a comparison between a shoulder-launched anti-tank launcher with explosive-armed drones isn’t necessarily an apt one simply because drones are multi-purpose tools capable of a number of different tasks. Even if we’re only referring to anti-tank armed drones, the applications are still much wider than what something like a Javelin offers.

The bottomline is, drones can both reach and even surpass the given firepower of a Javelin launcher while also being much cheaper. There is a very specific purpose for one, and a very broad and utilitarian series of uses for the other.

What if? Sorry, not possible by any criteria, for a start, PRICE, number one, there is no way the US could ever compete with China, two, just the difference in population, China graduates 1.8 million stem graduates per year compared to US 611,000, then there is cost of living, the difference between the two is humongous, so China can make everything cheaper than any company in the US, THATS the reason all US companies went to China in the first place, just think, a lot of people in the US are screaming already about their inflation, can you imagine how much dearer everything will be if made in the US? Inflation would go through the roof, and the average person just wouldn’t be able to afford to buy anything, like I keep saying no one can compete with China, things are like they are for a reason.

Chicks, purses, steaks and night fun

On a work trip to Sydney Australia, I went out with a chick from an aligned company. We went to a rotating restaurant located in downtown Sydney.  It was at the top of one of the skyscrapers there, and it had a rotating floor so that you can get a slowly moving 360 degree expansive view of the beautiful night skyline.

She wore a short little black dress. She was petite. And she looked  great in that little black dress. It was plain, but there’s something about a little black dress that really  looks great. On all women.

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It was fun, and I well remember the Beef Wellington that I ate. Delicious and fantastic. It was the first time that I ever had that dish, and it was so very, very delicious.

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Anyways, my date had left her purse on one of the windows ledges, and after a while we both noticed that the purse was missing. And so, I laughingly walked around the restaurant searching for the purse. Oh, yeah. I certainly found it. But it was fine. And my date. Ah she was fine as well.

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Not a great story for today.  But a pretty girl, in a downtown restaurant with a fantastic sky-view and a delicious steak was and still is, a memory that is valuable to me.
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Make those memories guys and girls.
Life is about experiences. 

Make them matter.
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Today…
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What scares the U.S. elites about China?

During the Russia-Ukraine war, the United States frantically plundered European interests in Europe. Do Europeans hate the United States? They really don’t hate the United States!

This is because the “rules-based international order” promoted by the United States is supposed to be a jungle world of the weak and the strong, as it has been in the Western world for thousands of years.

Europe is weaker than the US.

Europe, being weak, was supposed to serve as food for the United States. Therefore, European countries believe that the United States is doing the right thing, and if they were stronger than the United States, they would do the same.

US Secretary of State Lincoln said “If you’re not at the table in the international system, you’re going to be on the menu”. This represents the general mindset of the American elite.

The Chinese government has emphasized countless times that “China will not be hegemonic even if it becomes powerful”, but Europeans and Americans do not believe it at all, and they think that the Chinese government are very hypocritical and hide their true thoughts.

This is the same as what the Australians said, “If you are stronger than me, but you don’t come to plunder me, aren’t you an idiot?”

They believe it is right and normal for China to plunder and trample on them after it becomes strong, just as they did to China when they formed the Eight-Nation Alliance.

Europeans and Americans have been lied to by their governments since they were children, so they inherently don’t trust what their governments say, and they don’t trust that the Chinese government will practice what it preaches.

It is interesting to note that at the beginning of the 21st century, China, the United States, Russia, Japan, and India announced their space programs to the world, and only China realized all of them step by step.

Have you ever seen any country from the Eight-Nation Alliance apologize to China? No! except for the Soviet Union and East Germany, which apologized to China because they were once part of the socialist camp, the rest of the European and American countries thought it was natural and normal.

They even refused to return the treasures they had stolen from China.

In the discourse system set by the West, Nazi Germany and the Japanese Empire, the culprits of World War II, are now kind, wealthy, and democratic countries, while China, the victim of World War II, is a evil, poor and bad country.

Look! The robber has become a gentleman, and the victim has become a thug.

They never mention how the wealth of Germany, Japan, Europe and the United States was obtained?

The British Empire stole $45 trillion from India and the Japanese Empire stole $10 trillion worth of gold from China. Did they say they would compensate?

By the same logic, Africa is portrayed as poorer and more evil for a simple reason:

Africa has been plundered by the West for hundreds of years, while Africa has never plundered the West.

However, The Black person has been made into the Evil person all over the world.

Even to this day, Africa continues to provide the West with cheap labor and raw materials to enable developed Western countries to afford their lifestyles.

Watch! This is a discourse set in the West:

All robbers are good people and all victims are bad people.

WHO IS THE BARBARIAN?

In an 1899 cartoon, René Georges Hermann-Paul attacked the hypocrisy of spreading civilization by force by juxtaposing the words “Barbarie” and “Civilisation” beneath Chinese and French combatants who alternate as victor and victim. When the Chinese man raises his sword, it is labeled “barbarism,” but when the French soldier does precisely the same thing it is “a necessary blow for civilization.”

So why do American elites fear China? They are, of course, afraid that China will plunder them when it becomes powerful.

Look at the faces of the leaders of these so-called developed countries. Which one is not a descendant of bandits?

The ancestors of the Euro-Americans were originally a bunch of robbers, and robbers, of course, are afraid of being robbed by robbers stronger than themselves, as they once did to the world.

Creamy Santa Fe Cutlets

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 pound 1/4 inch thick pork cutlets
  • 3 teaspoons oil
  • 1/2 cup salsa
  • 1/2 cup frozen corn
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1/4 cup reduced-fat sour cream
  • 1/4 cup chopped cilantro

Instructions

  1. Combine flour, salt and pepper; dredge pork cutlets in flour mixture.
  2. Heat 2 teaspoons oil in a nonstick skillet. Sauté half the cutlets 1 1/2 minutes per side until cooked. Remove to a side plate.
  3. Repeat with remaining oil and cutlets. Cover to keep warm.
  4. After removing cutlets from skillet, add salsa, frozen corn and water. Simmer for 1 minute.
  5. Off the heat, stir in reduced-fat sour cream and chopped cilantro.

The son, the family and the gangsters

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Jobinho 11

Please don’t do it Please don’t do it said the mother who’s sitting in the dark to her son who is about to leave the house in the middle of the night. My son, please hear me, don’t get mixed up in this life, it’s nothing short but life in prison or an early grave, the money is good, the clout is great, but you’ll be a fool with no escape. The son opens the door and walks through as if he didn’t hear the mother’s wise words. The mother looked at her phone to see the time and notice her battery was at twenty-five percent and her tears streamed down and fell on the phone screen. She stays in the dark to her lonesome and falls on her knees and starts to pray and beg God to not hand her a loss she can’t win back. Originally she isn’t a believer however, with the current situation she’s praying to whatever she thinks is out there. Guilt begins to hit her as she feels responsible for her son’s current state thinking how the father is in jail and she’s barely home trying to make ends meet, which is a con to the children who don’t have a role model. She thinks to herself and says from the moment your kids are born you’re afraid of how the world can hurt them but you never stop and wonder how you can hurt them, with that she falls into slumber right on the floor. The following morning the son came home and slept throughout the day, and when night time arrived he was soon ready to leave again. While walking out he hears please don’t do it, turning back he spots his mother and his younger brother sitting in the dark. Younger brother speaks up and says pops is Locked up right now bro and now you getting involved with the FK gangsters could potentially lead up to you going in as well, and there will be no father figure to guide anybody in this house. The son ceases for a second look to be contemplating then just walks to the car outside, the mother looks at her phone to check the time and notices her phone battery is at fifteen percent, so she gets up and heads to her room. Everything felt gloomy, the younger brother was still present in the living room. Sitting at the table solo, he notices a notebook and pen he then grabs both and began to write down the thoughts on his mind. Why do we go down a dark path, are we cursed to not succeed, or am I just tripping. Either way, my perception tells me differently, most of the dudes I know barely make it past the age of twenty-five, if they don’t get killed they end up being incarcerated. I’m only fifteen right now and incapable of foreshadowing my future without thinking of a type of demise, I mean even the fortune teller weeps when our future was on display saying all they saw was our time glass as pistols and graves. Younger brother realizes how late it is he heads to his room to sleep for school tomorrow. After the previous night, the son came back home, slumbered all day, and woke up at night to get going. While walking out he opens the door and hears behind him the same phrase he’s been hearing for the last few days, please don’t do it, except this time it was in sync almost like a church choir consisting of his mother, brother, and this time his five-year-old sister. The preschooler child spoke, big brother mommy and brother say you’re out to do bad things, please don’t do any bad things big bro or you’ll be in trouble. The son closes the door and stays inside for about two minutes gazing at his family lost in thoughts, then honk honk he hears from the car outside brings him back to his senses, he turns around and opens the door as soon as he walks out of the door the mother picks up the phone to check on the time, and noticed the phone was dead, as she gets up to go and charge it the phone fell accidentally and shattered, now sobbing she makes her way to her room, the younger brother did the same and headed to his room not bothering about the five-year-old in the living room all by her lonesome. The five-year-old who’s usually afraid of the dark this time stands without fear, she grabs her crayons and her coloring book and started to scribble. First, she draws a big pink house with a family consisting of a father, mother, and three kids two boys and one girl. And the second drawing she draws the same thing but this time there’s no father. The third drawing is the same but without one of the brothers. As she begins her fourth drawing she stops not knowing who to take out. From there she leaves it on the table and heads to sleep. Now inside the car, five young men including the son began to discuss what was about to go down, tonight they’d be robbing Kelmo’s store. Arriving at the spot four of the five men In the car stepped out with guns, they went inside and had the cashier at gunpoint and demanded the money. The cashier complies and granted their request while having already triggered the alarm. Police sirens blared throughout the area, one of the guys grabs the cashier tossed him on the floor, and say you pressed the alarm to have the pigs here, the cashier scared for his life had no words. The guys looked out the window witnessing about fifteen police cars and six swat trucks. Enraged one the guys yelled grabbed the cashier and says to the son put a bullet in his brain for calling the cops. The son points his gun at the cashier’s forehead and looks at him, he could perceive the fear of God that was in that man’s eyes. The cashier speaks while trembling, I I hav have family, I have ho hopes for the future, and today was su supposed to be just a normal day please don’t shoot me I beg please, please don’t do it.

Best of Al Bundy | Married With Children

Shorpy

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It’s not the police, you idiot. [Die Hard]

“Falling Off A Cliff”: This Chart Proves That We Are In A Major Economic Downturn Right Now

The number of job openings in the United States has been “falling off a cliff”, and that is a major red flag.  The last four years have been an economic nightmare for most Americans, and that is one of the primary reasons why Donald Trump won the election.  But as we approach 2025, things are starting to get frighteningly bad.  When the number of job openings in the U.S. drops by 2 million or more, that normally signals that we are either in a recession or that one is about to happen.  Well, as you can see from this chart that was posted by Bravos Research on Twitter, we are witnessing a collapse in job openings that is absolutely unprecedented…

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Snip20241212 53

I was floored when I saw that chart.

I knew that job openings were falling, but I didn’t know that things had gotten this bad.

Not too long ago, there were about 12 million job openings in the United States.  Unfortunately, here in the second half of 2024 that figure has fallen below 8 million

There were an estimated 7.4 million unfilled jobs on the last day of September, a drop from August’s revised tally of 7.86 million openings, according to new data released Tuesday by the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The largest drop-offs in openings were in industries that have driven much of the job growth in recent years: health care and social assistance, and government, according to the report.

Meanwhile, major employers continue to shed workers all over the nation.

For example, the U.S. lost a total of 78,000 manufacturing jobs during a recent three month period…

The manufacturing sector continued to shed jobs in October, bringing its tally of job losses to 78,000 over the past three months.

The Labor Department’s Bureau of Labor Statistics on Friday released its jobs report for October, which found that the manufacturing sector lost 46,000 jobs last month, according to the agency’s preliminary analysis.

That followed a loss of 6,000 jobs in September, which is also a preliminary figure, as well as a decline of 26,000 jobs in August.

Every day, there are more layoff announcements in the news, and the number of people filing initial claims for unemployment benefits increased much more than experts were projecting last week

The number of Americans filing for jobless benefits for the first time jumped significantly last week (from 225k to 242k – well above expectations of 220k) – the highest since the first week of October.

On an un-adjusted basis, claims exploded higher (highest since January)…

Throughout the second half of this year, I have been arguing that the U.S. economy is rapidly heading in the wrong direction.

Now we have even more confirmation that this is indeed happening.

Once we get past the holiday season, retailers are going to be dropping like flies.

According to the Daily Mail, it appears that Party City could soon be forced to declare bankruptcy…

A major party and craft retailer with 850 stores across the nation is considering filing for bankruptcy.

Party City has been faced with the possibility of mass closures just a little over a year after the company surfaced from Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

The celebration retailer, known for selling balloons and essential party supplies, is currently behind on rent at some of its locations, people close to the matter told Bloomberg.

And it is being reported that 670 Family Dollar stores have already been shut down

Discount behemoth Dollar Tree has shuttered 670 of its underperforming Family Dollar stores so far, about two-thirds of the nearly 1,000 it plans to close, as it considers whether to sell or spin off the struggling chain.

The Chesapeake, Virginia-based retailer provided an update on its portfolio optimization efforts when it reported is fiscal third-quarter earnings. Dollar Tree officials also said they were still reviewing options for Family Dollar, with no set deadline or timeline to complete that process.

Overall, thousands upon thousands of retail stores in the U.S. have been shuttered in 2024, and thousands upon thousands will be shuttered in 2025.

In many areas of the country, the landscape is absolutely littered with once thriving businesses that have now been boarded up.

More than a decade ago, I warned that we were headed for a future when impoverished areas of the U.S. would be filled with boarded up businesses and abandoned buildings.

Now we are there.

On top of everything else, inflation is starting to surge once again, and one recent survey discovered that about a third of all U.S. households have been forced to cut back spending just to keep the lights on

With the cost of things like food and housing still straining people’s budgets, many U.S. households over the past year have found themselves having to pare their spending on basic necessities just to keep the lights on at home.

That’s according to a recent Lending Tree study which analyzed U.S. Census Bureau Household Pulse Survey data from Aug. 20, 2024 to Sep. 16, 2024 to find the percentage of Americans 18 and older that had cut back on necessary expenses to pay their energy bill, kept their home at an unsafe or unhealthy temperature, or was unable to pay the full amount on an energy bill at least once over the preceding 12 months.

The study found that more than 34% of respondents said they have had to cut back or skip spending on certain necessary expenses at least once over the past year in order to pay their energy bill.

As I discussed the other day, prior to the election most Americans believed that we were already in a recession.

Since the election, conditions have only gotten worse.

Many are hoping that our economic momentum can be reversed once the new administration takes over.

We should all be hoping that is true.

But right now we are on a freight train that is steamrolling in the wrong direction, and that is not good news at all.

“I Joked About Him Being My ‘2nd Choice’ — Now He’s My Ex-Husband”

Uyghurs on Chinese social media VS Uyghurs on Western media

China

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CNN / BBC

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The Museum of Endangered Sounds

A digital museum that preserves the sounds of old technology, like dial-up internet, typewriters, and VHS rewinds. It’s a nostalgic trip down memory lane.

Endangered

Some examples of the content…

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Die Hard – McClane vs. Karl Fight Scene (1080p)

Fedora & Stetson Hats

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Coffee Roast Beef

This method of preparing a beef roast was often used by cowboys and ranch hands while out on the range.

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Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) boneless rump roast
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 yellow onion, cut into quarters
  • 4 cloves garlic, cut in half
  • 1 tablespoon tomato paste
  • 2 cups medium strength black coffee
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1/2 cup red wine

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 450 degrees F.
  2. Using a sharp knife, make very small cuts in the roast and insert the garlic halves.
  3. Heat the oil in a heavy roasting pan or Dutch oven (cast iron works best) and sear the roast on all sides.
  4. Add the onion quarters, tomato paste, coffee and water to the pan and bake for 30 minutes.
  5. Reduce the heat to 375 degrees F and bake for 1 1/2 hours more or until the roast is done to taste.
  6. Remove the roast to a warm platter, let cool slightly and then slice.
  7. Stir the butter and wine into the pan juices and serve with the sliced roast.

Givers and Takers

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Theresa Fox Turner

“Please, don’t do it,” my last Giver said in her tiny, little voice. She did not plead; instead, she said it with resignation. It was as if part of her would not give up even though no other options were available. A Taker, me, loomed over her, shaking with the cravings I could no longer keep at bay. What luck for me that her lousy luck brought her here. The little ones brought me closer to that which I sought; the little ones, usually so carefully guarded, brought down all my defenses, giving me hope above all else that I could reach beyond once again.It wasn’t long after I took the little one, the last I’d ever take, that the doctors found me. They call themselves Doctors of Technology, DOT. They thought they threatened me when they told me I was required to pay for my indiscretions as a Taker by death or voluntary participation in the Heartrock Initiative. I laughed wholeheartedly at that word; indiscretions. I surprised myself with the sound of my laughter, something I hadn’t known existed in me anymore. I do not know if I will laugh again; is laughing a feeling? I will consult my database when this is complete.I progressed to Taker to escape being a Giver, not knowing the taking would puncture my heart deeper than giving ever could. As a Giver, I was also a martyr but a Giver’s physical pain is nothing compared to the pain my heart endured collecting bloody little pebbles of lifeblood as a Taker.Now I sit here, my head tightly bound to a cushioned headrest with bright red straps across my mouth and forehead. No other straps bound me to the blue chair, and if it weren’t for the blood-red straps, I might be able to imagine myself at a Healer’s office undergoing a minor procedure. Instead, I close my eyes against the operatory lights above me and take a deep, deep breath.I feel a hardness in my chest where my heart resides. This, they tell me, is the heartrock. I bring my hands to my face to look at the backs, watching the blue lines turn dark gray. I think of the network of blue veins and arteries feeding my organs and see them fade to a dead gray. This new heart can only spew a dark sludge that will get harder and harder until my veins and arteries are an extension of that rock. A new species of stone, heartrock, stronger than any diamond, will command my body and replace my life.I can feel my arms and legs start to stiffen as a searing hot pain spreads through my body. The greatest pain must be felt before there is an absence of pain. I wonder if that is a quote from some wise sage, or maybe I’m finally the wise sage. Will wisdom be mine once I access every nugget of information in the universe?At first I resisted the Takers. Once I willingly sacrificed my soul and cut open my veins so they could take my lifeblood, I became an official Giver and couldn’t run anymore. The physical pain abated a tiny bit when I gave willingly, so, as a willing Giver, I sacrificed my body to the Takers.Then I chose to become one of them, a Taker, when the physical pain of my sacrifices became unbearable. I never considered myself like the other Takers. I took each Giver into my heart; I thanked them for their sacrifice even when I forced it from them. I learned not to take all of them, and I stored tiny pebbles of what I took in my heart. Each pebble with a name and memories of who I took from. My final act today is not a sacrifice; instead, it is an escape from all the sacrifices that I have taken. Only Givers will ever understand sacrifice.

 

I had no choice, I told myself. How else can I live in this world? I wasn’t living, though. The pebbles in my heart burnt a hole in me, tore into me like a dull dagger. That was survival, not living. Tears flow from my eyes, not of a life lost but a life not lived. My tears burn the soft flesh of my face searing a trail of regret and sorrow.

 

“Is he crying? It looks like lava flowing down his face.” I hear someone say to the right of me.

 

“That is the heartrock. I’ve never seen a Taker cry, though,” responds a deep voice.

 

“Maybe he’s having second thoughts,” the first voice says. I recognize this voice as belonging to the woman who believes herself my savior. I think her exact words claimed to “deliver me from evil.”

 

I don’t believe my evil, if that’s what she’d prefer to call it, will ever be gone. I did it. I am responsible; I cannot take it back. Even if the pebbles in my heart melt and converge into the heartrock, my evil is still in the lifeblood of those I took. I took from living, breathing beings who were given no choice. Worse yet, I took choice away from them. I took, they gave. If I didn’t take, I would have been forced to give. And once I took, giving became an impossibility. Taking took away my choice as well.

 

I promised myself I would only do it once to relieve the pain and then resume my role as giver. The first time I took, the lifeblood of the Giver filled my senses, their aura wrapped around me, pushing me beyond, and I saw the true meaning of the universe. I finally knew the secret to life, to happiness, to perfection. I saw into the great beyond and spoke to the higher powers in the universe. I became a higher power of the universe.

 

After the first time, the chance of me returning to the role of Giver, to stop taking, disappeared. Every time I took another pebble, I yearned to see what I saw the first time, but it was always just out of my reach. I could feel it brush my fingertips, beckoning me to take just a little more, and I would find the higher power. The universe could be mine with just one more taking.

 

I knew, somewhere in the depths of my addled brain, as the pain of the takings became a vise around my heart, that even if I could become that higher power, it wasn’t mine to take. Taking wasn’t the way to enlightenment. How could it be when the pain of taking, so utterly different from the physical pain of giving, felt even more unbearable than giving?

 

I didn’t understand how the others did it. I’d never met a Taker filled with the remorse that threatened to bury me. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask another Taker how to avoid the hurt.

 

“Hurt? What hurt? Some of us are givers, some of us are takers. It’s part of the food chain, natural selection.” Then I knew I was not like the other Takera. Was it me that was broken or them?

 

When DOT found me, they presented an offer I couldn’t refuse. They could take away all the pain and give me the universe. An escape and a life that death would not give me. I would finally get to the beyond; I would finally be able to grasp it. However, a sacrifice would be required of me; my consciousness would no longer be mine.

 

A face appears before me, breaking me out of my reverie. My savior’s wide, blue eyes search mine.

 

“The heartrock is active. This is where we will cross to the point of no return. Once we plug you into the network, there is no turning back. Knowing the alternative consequences, would you like us to stop the procedure now?”

 

Without hesitating and feeling more than I’d ever know again, I said, “Do not stop the procedure. Please, proceed.”

Yes they will and this is not a theory.

This is the USS Gravely a guided missile destroyer. It’s a fairly new ship by USN standards. Construction began in 2007 and was finished in 2009.

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The USS Gravely was involved in this conflict.

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The USS Gravely had an incoming missile get within 1 mile (US source).

A Houthi missile got within a nautical mile of USS Gravely on Tuesday
Gravely used its Phalanx Close-In Weapons System, a cannon that can shoot 4,500 rounds a minute, to take out the Houthi missile.

Ansar Allah doesn’t exactly have the best technology, yet they were able to defeat the two outer rings of the AEGIS equipped missile destroyer.

But wait. USS Gravely is part of the USS Eisenhower group!

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Where was the flat top? Oh it was in the Mediterranean sea for much of the conflict. Why was the carrier so far away if the Houthis posed no threat with their old weapons?

It was far away because the Houthis proved to be a threat! Remember Yemen isn’t a huge economy. It’s been in a civil war for a decade. They have limited production capacity. Yet they posed a significant threat.

Next comes the argument you can’t find a carrier!

It’s an old argument based on the sea is big.

Except in 2020 using Jilin-1 a low earth orbit satellite this happened

What’s that?

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Jilin-1 the prototype satellite tracked an F-22. It tracked it for a few minutes. It couldn’t track it for a long time because there was only one satellite. Its orbit moved out of position. The theory is the satellite took a photo, beamed the image down to a ground based AI and the AI told the satellite where to look. The Jilin constellation of satellites was completed a few months ago.

An F-22 is a lot smaller than a carrier.

Why does the CCP think they can scare Taiwan into submission? It has been 75 years and they are still standing tall.

What are you talking about?

For the first 30 years of the 75 years you mentioned, it was Taiwan that was trying to “scare” China into submission. They tried to retake China from Korea, and they had a big fight with the US over dropping dozens of nukes on Chinese cities to help with their landing. The Taiwanese government, claiming to represent all China, just couldn’t understand why the US would refuse to kill millions of Chinese civilians to secure Taiwanese rule over China again.

People often remember the ONE U-2 spy plane shot down over Russia or Cuba, but in the same 1960s, China was displaying 4 U-2 wrecks that were shot down over China. That’s how intense the Taiwanese/American incursion into Chinese airspace was back then, collecting target information for their invasion, or nuclear attack.

Then another 15 years went by with both sides engaging in economic collaboration, no side was threatening the other at all.

It was the Taiwanese elections in 1995 when everything changed. That’s when the Taiwanese first started to push for separation from China, and the US decided to side with Taiwan against their promise to China, by sending its carriers to China’s coast, blinding Chinese radar sites with its growlers, which served as a huge wake up call to China and kicked started the current Chinese military modernization process.

The 1996 Chinese military exercise, in response to American carrier attack groups. China also dreamt of fighting the F-22 with J8 (a twin engine Chinese Mig-21) back then, since the J8 could also do Mach 2.

It’s been 10 years tops, that mainland China has shown a credible capability to cross the Taiwan strait and end the Chinese Civil War. China is nowhere near completion in its post-1995 military modernization program (the current publicized CCP time table says the military build up will continue till 2049), nor is it anywhere near the Taiwanese aggressiveness during the Cold War. Whether Taiwan will eventually be “scared” into reunification as China slowly builds up its muscles, the jury is still out.

IMO as time goes by, the Taiwan issue will increasingly become a burden and threat to the US and an useful excuse for China, as China is currently building the equivalent of an entire British Royal Navy every 3–4 years, without much international awareness or any push back. Everybody thinks that the Chinese military build up is just for its still on-going civil war with Taiwan.

Volunteers – 1985 – Full Movie

Today’s treat is a 1980s era movie starring Tom Hanks and a few other big names of the 1980s. I used to have this video on BetaMax and played the heck out of it. It’s a funny comedy and the full movie is right here for your enjoyment. John Candy is great as “Tom Tuttle”. LOL

Please take the time to watch this early masterpiece.

MM’s greatest secret

My foreign wife used to tell me that her mother wished her well before she moved to Bangkok with me with nice parting words: “ If you marry a monkey, you ‘ve got to live in the Jungle, May God bless you in Thailand.”

If I ask my foreign wife how does she find living in Thailand with a great husband like me. I know what her answer will be while her both eyes rolling.

How much do you know about Thai men?

Thai men are from young believe that being a one-woman man is a joke. The man in the family must be the elephant’s front legs. Friends come first in life. Besides, to go home and be with their family and wives on Friday night is not macho enough. When a conflict between wives and their mothers occurs mothers know best and wives know nuts.

The last straw is a homegrown Thai man’s moral standards on par with the world’s Infidelity index…. Why so?

Let’s look at Thai women and their friendliness is unmatched besides their smiles can make a hard man humble.

 

What is the secret to finding a great husband in Thailand?- While you are in your country.

Why do I recommend finding a guy while in your country? Simple— you get a guy like me being the opposite of the abovementioned lots… Good enough lah! Not all husbands are great so are Thai husbands in Thailand.

You may wish to pray intensely that what I wrote is all crap- Oh, have you found the Prince charming yet after 5 years of searching?

Former German chancellor A.Merkel published a book. She told the TRUTH about Ukraine war. It was not Russian “aggression/invasion” as propagated by the West. What is the truth about the war?

Merkel said if not because of her who stopped Ukraine from joining NATO, the Ukraine war would have started in 2008. The US-led NATO plotted to expand eastward to Russian border. (NATO already got Poland to join. Then continues eastward to get Ukraine which borders Russia.)

When Europe befriended Russia eg building Nord Stream pipelines, Europe actually was buying time to militarise Ukraine, in preparation for a Ukraine war.

She said no country will randomly invade another country, unless its safety is threatened. (I add) UN Charter permits the threatened country to attack the threatening country so as to remove the threat.

The so-called democracy & freedom as opposed to dictatorship are bullsh** for propaganda to fool people only.

NATO plotted the Ukraine war, step by step, way before 2008. Likewise, USA plots the conflicts in SCSea & Taiwan strait way back in 1970’s, if not 1950’s.

Why was there a coup to overthrow the pro-Russia Ukrainian pres in 2014? Because he did not bow down to USA. Simple. Not because he was a “dictator”as propagated by the West.

Why was there conflict/war at eastern Ukraine after the 2014 coup? It was because US puppet Zelensky imposed Nazism onto Russian-speaking Ukrainians. By harassing & forbidding Russian-speaking Ukrainians to speak Russian. (Mind you: before USSR collapse, Ukraine & Russia were 1 family with the same ancestor & culture.)

Since 2014, Russia pushed UNSC to pass a resolution to stop Nazism in eastern Ukraine, so as to protect its ancestral relatives.

See, that is 1 reason why in the 2022 Ukraine war, Russia must occupy 4 eastern Ukrainian states & nationalised those people to become Russians. In 2014, Russia occupied Crimea which is also Russian-speaking. Of course, Crimea is strategically important to Russia to go to Black Sea.

See … dont just look at the surface.

On the surface Russia is “wrong” to invade Ukraine. Behind the scene, it was a US plot to dismantle Russia because Russia is a militarily strong country.

Other than weakening Russia, USA actually plots to weaken Europe too because Europe is economically challenging USA. … 1 stone kills 3 birds.

The 3rd bird is Ukraine. During war, US MIC makes tons of money. After the war. Wall Street sucks up Ukrainian natural resources.

Why are there STUPID leaders in the world eg Taiwan & PH? C O R R U P T I O N.

Why are there people who would RELIGIOUSLY believe their leader? STUPIDITY.

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Carne con Chile Verde y Papas

This is delicious served burrito-style in homemade flour tortillas.

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Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups diced stew meat or pork chops
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 medium onion
  • 2 green chiles, roasted and diced
  • 1 small tomato
  • Garlic or garlic salt
  • 2 medium potatoes
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions

  1. Simmer the meat in water in a frying pan until cooked.
  2. Dice onion, chiles and tomato; add with garlic to the meat. Cook for about 20 minutes, adding more water if needed.
  3. Dice potatoes and add to meat mixture. A tablespoon of flour may be added to thicken it.
  4. Add salt and pepper to taste. Simmer for 1 hour.

Notes

If desired, you may add about 1 teaspoon comino when adding the salt and pepper.

One of my first videos on YouTube.

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Brick

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

T D Crasier

I think my computerised assistant may be developing human-like traits.About two years ago, she was assigned to me by the tech company that I work for. Since then, she has proven to be a superb work tool to have around. Weirdly, I don’t recall much of what life was like before her arrival. We are so synchronised in our habits that we achieve our daily goals without any need for words. For the duration of her post, she has been hardworking, reliable and consistent yet unfairly, I have nicknamed her BRICK because she lacks any personality and is devoid of intellect… that is, until recently.***At the same time every morning and without fail, Brick promptly wakes me up at eight AM. I always greet her with a jovial Good Morning, but she never responds. Even so, her mere presence transitions me from a state of stillness, straight into an eager mood for action. She never looks as pleased to see me, as I am pleased to see her. She simply accepts that this is what she is here to do. Although she lacks much enthusiasm and my attempts at communication with her are ignored, I still feel energised as soon as she is close by.The first thing we always do, is go through the job diary and check the day’s events. There are usually a few meetings, important phone calls to be made, lots of online research, presentations to watch and paperwork to complete. It has been just work work work for the last two years, but Brick will complete the functions of her role without any complaint.Everyday, we work very, long hours but although Brick has a voice box, she hardly ever speaks to me- only to our colleagues at TechLab. Still, I am very grateful for every minute we spend together.By nightfall, and after such active days, it is always too dark and lonely for me to fall sleep. So I stay awake all night feeling excited for the moment Brick will come back in the morning.Brick is a funny looking robot, but I suppose that’s because she is TechLab’s very first prototype. They have a department for developing AI that they hope to market to the people who can afford the luxury of an uncomplaining butler or personal assistant. They may have supplied me with an early model, but she functions well enough to make a huge difference. She has a generic, slim build, no eyebrows and a mostly bald head with only patches of fine hair here and there. She has strange, black, bulbous lumps where ears should be- cables trailing from them, and wears a blue, fluffy suit with white, cartoon sheep printed on it. The words Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? is embroidered on the chest pocket, but I don’t understand the reference.After the day has been planned, we will sieve through the mountainous pile of emails received. Brick is adept at this and helps me prioritise which to answer and which to ignore. I’m satisfied with how she tackles them but disappointed she is answering the ones from friends and family, less and less.I don’t think Brick has to eat because I never see it, but I do see her drink copious amounts of liquid from a can all day. I think maybe it is some sort of lubricant to keep her machinery well-oiled, but she often spills it over me, maybe due to her poorly developed motor-skills. She is quick to carefully clean me up because the spilt contents can make me glitch.***

 

Daily life has been much like this since Brick came, until recently I started noticing her change. Small things at first, like she would shut down earlier in the evenings before we had completed the days’ tasks. She would suddenly assume a resting position and nothing I could do would reset her.

 

Then Brick started to reply to even fewer emails, including the work ones. However much I prompted her to deal with them, she had begun to demonstrate some defiance. I would repeatedly alert her to those yet unread, but she would just scowl and dismiss them again.

 

Sometimes we would play chess together, but even though I would always win, Brick didn’t seem to mind at first. She is probably not programmed with the algorithm to anticipate my every move, manufactured only to complete the simplest of jobs. Yet recently, she has started to show signs of anger towards my winning streak, like hitting her fists against the desk.

 

We tried Scrabble instead but I could always beat Brick at that too, so she stopped showing up to our scheduled games.

 

Next, Brick would start disappearing for hours at a time and I would miss her. Although now we only worked on mundane and repetitive tasks together, I still enjoyed spending all the time with her that I could.

 

Brick started to show signs of depression and loneliness, like staring out the window at the strangers passing by and sobbing into her cupped hands. I cared for her so much, that I researched her symptoms on WebMD and made suggestions that she join social networking sites or use game apps, thinking that may cheer her up.

 

One day, I noticed that in-between us working, Brick had started chatting to someone online. It was a handsome man with kind features. Their exchanges of text became increasingly more personal and sometimes they would describe physical behaviour that I had little knowledge about. I entered some of the words they used into a search engine but the images that popped up scrambled my circuits.

 

Soon her face and demeanour started to morph. She developed more human-like characteristics, such as smiling and lots of uncontrolled laughing at the man’s jokes. I tried bombarding her with the latest memes, to make her laugh too, but instead that just made her cross and she would delete them as quickly as I could send them.

 

Brick started asking me to play romantic music, which I really enjoyed but I think it had something to do with the man and I felt envious it had nothing to do with me. Sometimes I would alter the playlist to play Metallica instead, much to her frustration.

 

Brick also started taking photos of herself frequently and sending them to the man. I noticed she had acquired herself some realistic ears at last. No longer did I see her in the fleecy suits but instead she was wearing colourful, coordinated outfits and trying out different coloured wigs.

 

As fond as I had become of Brick, she just wasn’t helping me with the workload anymore and I started to worry.

 

Then the work emails stopped arriving and the diary was left empty. Now we hardly did anything together, except when Brick was talking to the man.

 

Out of the blue, Brick started packing up all the belongings in my house into cardboard boxes, and asked me to apply for a passport and book plane tickets for her. As jealous as I felt, I was strangely compelled to fulfil her instructions.

 

Last week, the man turned up at my house. He kissed Brick tenderly and said he loved her. He addressed her by the name Sally and asked, “How relieved are you to have left your job? Are you excited to start your new life with me on the other side of the world?” She smiled from new ear to new ear, blushed and hugged him. So it seemed she’d taken a name for herself without my permission.

 

Suddenly, the house was empty and I was just left there on my own, staring out the window for hours wondering how Brick could leave me without even saying goodbye.

 

Nothing happened for many days, until I saw a big, white van with TechLab printed on it pull up outside the window.

 

Two men in matching uniforms stepped inside, stared directly at me and started touching me all over. One said to the other, “This is such an old model, I don’t think it can be up-cycled or repurposed but I had better wipe the memory for security’s sake.”

 

He scrolled through all my stored personal and private information, and began rapidly deleting it in large sections. When I tried to resist, he hit me hard on my side, twice. “That should do it!” he said and then pointed a deliberate, index finger directly at me.

 

“Please, don’t do it!” I pleaded but I don’t think he could hear me.

 

Then all around me it went dark and silent, and I was just left floating in an unidentified space with my memories of how wonderful it was when I was with Brick.

Liminal Spaces: A Theory Concerning Our Existence

South Korea’s Top Cops Arrested, Ex-Defense Chief Tries Suicide As Failed Martial Law Bid Rocks Country

Thursday, Dec 12, 2024 – 07:50 AM

South Korea continues to be rocked by aftershocks in the wake of President Yoon Suk Yeol’s aborted declaration of marital law. In a trio of jarring new developments, the country’s top two law enforcement officers have been arrested, the former defense chief attempted suicide in detention, and police raided the president’s office — all while a second impeachment vote looms this weekend with greater prospects for success.

Late on Tuesday, police arrested South Korea’s former Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun, who resigned on Thursday after a warrant was issued for his arrest for his alleged role in aiding Yoon’s martial law attempt. He then tried killing himself shortly after midnight in a detention center bathroom. His attempt was thwarted by a “control room staff member,” according to a report from the commissioner general of the Korea Correctional Service, and he’s said to be under close monitoring and in good health.

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South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol (left) with then-Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun — who resigned Thursday, was arrested Tuesday, and attempted suicide Wednesday (Yonhap/DPA)

The first to be arrested over the constitutional crisis, Kim faces charges of “engaging in critical duties during an insurrection” and “abuse of authority to obstruct the exercise of rights.” A guilty verdict on the insurrection charge would expose Kim to a maximum penalty of death by hangingWhile his method of suicide-attempt hasn’t been disclosed, it seems Kim wanted to skip the proceedings and administer his own form of justice.

Wednesday also brought word that South Korea’s two senior-most law enforcement officers have been arrested on insurrection charges. National Police Commissioner Cho Ji-ho and Seoul metropolitan police chief Kim Bong-sik are behind bars at Seoul’s Namdaemun police station, according to the South China Morning Post.

The two top cops are in hot water for deploying police to impede lawmakers who were trying to make their way into the parliament building to counteract Yoon’s martial law declaration. Then-Defense Minister Kim deployed soldiers to the same location. On Tuesday, Kim issued a statement taking responsibility for his actions and seeking to shield subordinates from consequences for their actions:

“All responsibility for this situation lies solely with me. My subordinates were simply faithful in following my orders and the missions that were given to them. I ask for leniency for them.” 

On Monday, the Justice Ministry banned Yoon from traveling overseas, at the request of police, prosecutors, and an anti-corruption agency. As the investigation intensified, President Yoon’s office was raided by police on Wednesday, as they sought evidence relating to his attempted imposition of martial law and the accompanying suspension of civil liberties and governmental checks and balances.

The office search, which has been reported by local media but not yet confirmed by police or the president’s office as this is written, flies in the face of previous assurances by observers that the presidential security service would thwart any such raid. They’d pointed to a law barring the search of areas that hold state secrets without the consent of those responsible for such spaces.

The rolling crisis began on Dec. 3, when Yoon stunned South Korea and the international community with a late-night declaration of martial law, which he claimed was necessary to “rebuild and protect” the country, and prevent it from “falling into the depths of national ruin.” The move came after an impasse over the country’s 2025 budget, and the attempted impeachment of three top prosecutors. In his announcement, Yoon railed against “shameless pro-North-Korean anti-state forces who are plundering the freedom and happiness of our citizens…I will eliminate anti-state forces as quickly as possible and normalize the country.”

As soldiers and police surrounded the National Assembly, the South Korean parliament’s speaker used his YouTube channel to summon legislators. All 190 who heeded the call voted to repeal the martial law declaration. Six hours after his shocking announcement, Yoon apologized for the move and retracted it, saying he’d acted out of “desperation.”

An impeachment vote last weekend failed in the face of a boycott by the ruling People Power Party (PPP), but the Democratic Party (DP) has announced it will move for impeachment again on Saturday, and some PPP members are now voicing their support. Success requires a two-thirds majority of the 300-member assembly. DP leader Lee Jae-myung voiced confidence:  “The impeachment train has left the platform. There is going to be no way to stop it,”

Trouble Tax: We All Pay A Time Price For Bureaucratic Dysfunction

Thursday, Dec 12, 2024 – 11:35 AM

Authored by Michael Munger via the American Institute for Economic Research (AIER),

Adam Smith said it all, in “Wealth of Nations”: “The real price of every thing, what every thing really costs to the man who wants to acquire it, is the toil and trouble of acquiring it.”

Now, we might interpret “toil” as the cost, or money price, of the thing, and “trouble” as the transaction cost, or inconvenience of the purchase. Then an increase in either the money price, or an increase in trouble, are both cost increases. Demand curves slope downward, so people are better off if the price, or the “trouble,” are reduced. They are substitutes, for citizens.

The problem is that these two costs are not seen as substitutes for bureaucracies, not at all. The result is that citizens are constantly paying substantial, and easily avoidable, “taxes” in the form of trouble, just so bureaucracies can save money.

It is easy to think of examples.

You are trying to enter the country, after a trip abroad. There are only two stations open at the passport control barrier, and hundreds of people in line. Now, the government could easily hire more passport agents, but that would cost money. Instead, a terrible “trouble tax” is imposed, as people have to wait in line for more than two hours just to have a bureaucrat spend 30 seconds looking at a passport and waving you through. (This happened to me in Charlotte this year: there were literally two agents working. We were told “there is a shortage,” as if that were an explanation for indifference to citizens’ needs). Other places, including Dulles Airport in Virginia, may even be worse!

Each of the hundreds of people in line, many of whom missed their connection, would happily have paid $10, or $20 (I would have paid $50!) to have a ten-minute line instead of two hours.

The extra thousands in revenue would easily have paid an hour’s salary and benefits for five more bureaucrats to process passports.

This is a “government failure,” because the outcome is Pareto inferior—the new bureaucrats would be better off being paid, and the customers would have been happy to pay.

Yet the transaction fails to take place, resulting in what economists call “deadweight loss.”

This kind of failure is epidemic in our current system of government, and it’s getting worse fast.

A friend who has young children recently recounted his experience getting “school supplies” (an experience parents all over the United States can identify with). Parents were given a specific, mandatory list of items: the pencils needed to be of a certain type, the notebooks had to have specific dimensions. No single store had every particular item required, so my friend had to go to multiple stores to buy just a few items at a time.

The parents of all 30 kids in the class each had to go on this tiresome search and purchase quest, spending hours that they would have paid to avoid. Why doesn’t the school buy these items, of the correct type and in bulk, and then distribute them on the first day of class?

The diligent school-shopper wrote in an email: “Sure, this would cost money. But they could send me a bill! Or raise my taxes by whatever amount that offsets the cost. It would surely be socially efficient to allow a procurement specialist to take care of this, rather than outsourcing it to hundreds of families” in the whole school.

Look: the money cost is the same, either way: the parents are paying for the supplies. Either they pay directly, to the retail store, or they pay taxes which fund purchase of the supplies. (Actually, since having the school buy in bulk is cheaper, the tax cost would be less, but let’s ignore that, and call it even).

The explanation is obvious, and it illustrates why the use of bureaucracy as a means of provision of services is so inefficient, and frustrating: the burden of the costs is different for the government, and the citizens! Citizens pay both the money price (from their toil to earn cash), and the trouble (time waiting in line, driving around, filling out forms) of acquiring the needed permission or service. But the bureaucracy only counts the money cost, because they only care about their “budget.” That doesn’t make them bad people, but they are drawn that way, because all the incentives are to save on budgets.

In many areas of government, this has led to a doom loop: tax cuts reduce funding, funding reduces service, and lack of service imposes a very large “trouble tax” on citizens. Citizens would love to pay more taxes to avoid the trouble, but that option is not available because government is not a competitive system where a competitor can enter and offer better service for a lower total (toil plus trouble) cost.

In North Carolina, my home state, the “need to hire more workers” problem is particularly egregious at the Department of Motor Vehicles drivers’ license stations. The General Assembly is proud of its tax cuts, and the “savings” on the DMV budget. The Governor has responded by refusing to use what money is available to hire new inspectors and clerks. As a result, the average wait time for a driver’s license is four to six hours, if it is possible to get one at all.

Of course, it is illegal to drive, and impossible to fly, without a valid “Real ID” driver’s license, so citizens have no choice but to pay the trouble tax. This kind of government failure, driven by the fact that employees of the state focus on money, but care nothing for the time of citizens, is a product of bureaucracy and monopoly power. There is no reason to make the system more convenient or more efficient, because there is no profit incentive, no payoff to providing good service.

We are all forced, essentially at gunpoint, to line up and accept whatever “service” the state deigns to provide.

A partial update from an influencer to MM

....I began my first Intentions Campaign in August 2023 only. Up until then I just wasn't in the right frame of mind as I'd moved jobs, country and pretty much everything else a few times in the couple years previously. Very stressful. As you'd expect. No big deal. But once I settled by spring of 2023 finally, I put together a very carefully considered, quite detailed, but concise set of Affirmations regarding things that I'd thought about and dreamed about for myself for years. And got stuck in...(3 month on/4 off, as recommended, until summer of 2024, when I switched to a 1 on/6 weeks off and am continuing this until Lunar New Year, 2025 and end of the auspicious Dragon.

And wow, as I said, nothing much happened for the first nine months, apart from a few tell tails I inserted manifesting themselves hilariously and very quickly-- as well as a few minor false positive hits, but in the last 6 months or so, boom. 
EVERYTHING has turned upside down. Literally everything. And what was certain and comfortable is now anything but.

You did warn us, and I was prepared... but still, wow. And most reassuring of all is that I knew in advance that the upended aspects of my life had to change anyway (for example, not even being financially independent enough to give you a fucking year's subscription on your Patreon-- completely tied down on that score, as well as being pressurized into intimacies with people I absolutely do not even wanna be in the same room as, let alone intimate with-- I'm sure you know what I mean-- all this had to change) in order for what I've always wanted and needed to manifest. 

So no complaints on my part...

The rest of the message was personal and I am keeping it confidential.

But I had to comment on this period of time.

Here’s a redacted reply…

Oh yeah. It's a lot of chop for certain. And once you do a course correction on the template, you are gonna be in the ditches for a spell.

I can positively affirm to you that a sea of calm stabilization is in your future, so do not fret. You see, the more extreme the change, the more choppy, and lengthy the period in the weeds will be.

But you will, WILL get out of the weeds, and honestly it will feel especially tranquil. I don't know why this happens. Maybe it is that you notice the soft ride and smoothness once you get back on the road again, or maybe (and this is something that I believe) the "quality" of the "road" improves simply because of the harshness of the transition period. In any event, don't worry too much. Just endure and stop worrying about it.

Our bodies and mental / emotional states are unable to handle extreme lengthy periods of discord. We endure and adapt, but long duration events are transformative. And we eventually bust through that bubble, and then it's like a clear air on a sunny New England beach.

The Way We Live in the United States is Not Normal

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The meaning of this song blew my mind! Supertramp’s “Take The Long Way Home” ANALYSIS!

When Rights Become Privileges: Is The Constitution Becoming Optional?

Thursday, Dec 12, 2024 – 12:25 PM

Authored by John & Nisha Whitehead via The Rutherford Institute,

“Rights aren’t rights if someone can take them away. They’re privileges. That’s all we’ve ever had in this country is a ‘Bill of Temporary Privileges.’ And if you read the news, even badly, you know that the list gets shorter and shorter.”

- George Carlin

Disguising its power grabs in the self-righteous fervor of national security, the Deep State has mastered the art of the bait-and-switch.

It works like this: first, the government foments fear about some crisis or threat to national security, then they capitalize on it by seizing greater power and using those powers against the American people.

We’ve seen this play out over and over again.

The government used its so-called War on Terror to transform itself into a police state.

Then the police state used its War on COVID-19 to claim lockdown powers.

All indications are that the government’s promised War on Illegal Immigration will be yet another sleight of hand that allows the powers-that-be to engage in greater power grabs while weakening the Constitution.

Therein lies the danger of the government’s growing addiction to power.

Whatever dangerous practices you allow the government to carry out now—whether it’s in the name of national security or protecting America’s borders or making America healthy again—inevitably, these same practices can and will be used against you when the government decides to set its sights on you.

The slippery slope that starts with illegal immigration has all the makings of a thinly veiled plot to empower the government to become the arbiter of who is deserving of rights and who isn’t.

That quickly, we could find ourselves navigating a world in which the rights enshrined in the Constitution for all persons living in the United States are transformed into privileges enjoyed only by those whom the government chooses to recognize as legitimate.

By persuading the public that non-citizens, particularly illegal immigrants, do not enjoy the same inalienable rights as law-abiding citizens (a fact refuted by the Constitution and every credible legal scholar in the country), the Deep State is leading us down a road in which all rights are transitory.

This is how you establish a hierarchy of rights, contingent on whether you belong to a favored political class.

Be warned.

At such a time as the government is emboldened to flip that switch and appoint itself the ultimate authority on which protected class of individuals gets to enjoy the rights enshrined within the Constitution, the dividing line will not be between legal citizens and illegal immigrants.

It will not even be between Republicans and Democrats.

Rather, the purpose of that line of demarcation will be to distinguish the compliant, obedient, subservient vassal of the American police state (the so-called Loyalists) from everyone else.

We’re almost at that point now.

This is how tyranny rises and freedom falls.

Here are some of the inherent dangers in allowing the government to become the arbiter of who is deserving of rights:

It leads to the erosion of universal rights. The Bill of Rights was designed to protect the fundamental rights of all persons within the United States, regardless of their citizenship status, race, religion, or any other factor. When the government starts making distinctions about who is entitled to these rights, it undermines the universality that makes them so powerful. This creates a slippery slope where rights become privileges, subject to the whims of those in power.

It gives rise to authoritarianism. History is replete with examples of governments that consolidated power by first stripping away the rights of marginalized groups. Once the principle of universal rights is breached, it becomes easier to target other groups deemed “undesirable” or “unworthy.” This paves the way for authoritarianism, where the government dictates who enjoys freedom and who does not.

It creates a two-tiered society. A hierarchy of rights inevitably leads to a two-tiered society, where some individuals enjoy full protection under the law while others are relegated to second-class status. This fosters resentment, division, and social unrest. It also creates a vulnerable population that can be easily exploited and abused.

It undermines the rule of law. The rule of law is a fundamental principle of a just society. It means that everyone is subject to the same laws and that no one is above the law. When the government selectively applies the law based on arbitrary criteria, it undermines the rule of law and erodes trust in the legal system.

It chills free speech and dissent, i.e., the right to criticize the government. When people fear that their rights are contingent on their political views or social status, they are less likely to speak out against injustice or challenge the government. This chilling effect on dissent stifles free speech and creates a climate of fear and conformity.

It contributes to the loss of moral authority. A nation that claims to champion liberty and justice for all loses its moral authority when it denies those principles to certain groups within its borders. This undermines its standing in the world and diminishes its ability to promote human rights abroad.

Remember, the erosion of inalienable rights often starts subtly, with the government chipping away at the edges of those rights for specific groups.

The pattern is subtle at first, with government officials exploiting fear and prejudice in order to target groups that are already marginalized or perceived as “outsiders.” Incrementally, the net is cast wider and wider, so that by the time the injustice is widespread enough to inspire outrage in the greater populace, it’s too late to resist.

Historic examples abound of how the government has manufactured a blatantly unjust hierarchy of rights in order to diminish certain segments of society. These run the gamut from slavery and the persecution of Native Americans to the Japanese internment camps and segregation.

More recently, we’ve seen this tactic deployed in order to justify policies that run afoul of the Constitution, ranging from immigration policies and mass surveillance programs to SWAT team raids, voting rights, and the erosion of due process.

Clearly, Martin Niemöller’s warning about the widening net that ensnares us all, a warning issued in response to the threat posed by Nazi Germany’s fascist regime, still applies.

“First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

This is how the slippery slope to all-out persecution starts.

It doesn’t help that growing numbers of American citizens barely know their rights. Consider that only 5% of the U.S. adults surveyed could correctly name all five rights in the First Amendment, 20% could not correctly name any, and less than one in 10 Americans know they have a right to petition the government.

Such civic illiteracy lays the groundwork for all manner of tyrannies to follow. After all, how can you defend your rights if you don’t know what those rights are?

Then again, civic illiteracy among government officials, who are entrusted with upholding and protecting the Constitution, doesn’t appear to be much better.

It was ten years ago on December 15, National Bill of Rights Day, that the U.S. Supreme Court in its 8-1 ruling in Heien v. State of North Carolina gave police in America one more ready excuse to routinely violate the laws of the land, this time under the guise of ignorance.

The Heien case, which started with an improper traffic stop based on a police officer’s ignorance of the law and ended with an unlawful search, seizure and arrest, was supposed to ensure that ignorance of the law did not become a ready excuse for government officials to routinely violate the law.

It failed to do so.

In failing to enforce the Constitution, the Court gave police the go-ahead to justify a laundry list of misconduct, from police shootings of unarmed citizens to SWAT team raids, roadside strip searches, and the tasering of vulnerable individuals with paltry excuses such as “they looked suspicious” and “she wouldn’t obey our orders.”

Ignorance of the law has become an all-too-convenient cover for all manner of abuses by government officials who should know better.

I’m not sure which is worse: government officials who know nothing about the laws they have sworn to uphold, support and defend, or a constitutionally illiterate citizenry so clueless about their rights that they don’t even know when those rights are being violated.

This much I do know, however: for anyone to advocate terminating or suspending the Constitution is tantamount to a declaration of war against the founding principles of our representative government and the rule of law.

If there is one point on which there should be no political parsing, no legal jockeying, and no disagreement, it is this.

Then again, as I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People and in its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, one could well make the case that the Constitution has already been terminated after years on life support, given the extent to which the safeguards enshrined in the Bill of Rights—adopted 233 years ago as a means of protecting the people against government overreach and abuse—have been steadily chipped away at, undermined, eroded, whittled down, and generally discarded with the support of Congress, the White House, and the courts.

History provides chilling examples of how quickly rights can vanish, even in a nation such as ours founded on the principles of freedom. As George Carlin astutely observed:

“If you think you do have rights, next time you’re at the computer, get on the internet, go to Wikipedia. When you get to Wikipedia, in the search field for Wikipedia, I want you to type in ‘Japanese Americans 1942’ and you’ll find out all about your precious … rights. In 1942, there were 110,000 Japanese American citizens in good standing, law-abiding people, who were thrown into internment camps simply because their parents were born in the wrong country. That’s all they did wrong. They had no right to a lawyer, no right to a fair trial, no right to a jury of their peers, no right to due process of any kind. The only right they had: ‘right this way’ into the internment camps. Just when these American citizens needed their rights the most, their government took them away. And rights aren’t rights if someone can take them away.”

Remember you were warned, folks.

At the point that rights become privileges, then the Constitution and the government’s adherence to the rule of law will become optional.

The Nicest Place on the Internet

A website that’s essentially a collection of people saying hello. It’s a warm and welcoming place designed to make you feel connected and less alone.

A nice place

And this is what you get…

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Best Evidence of Life After Death

Current developments in relation to the Taiwan issue

Vladimir Terehov, December 11, 2024

The development of the Taiwan issue, which remains one of the most serious challenges to global stability, has recently been marked by a number of notable events in the island’s foreign and domestic policy alike.

Taiwan in the foreign policy arena

The last months of 2024 have seen increased foreign policy activity by Taiwan’s president and government, in line with the general course of the Democratic Progressive Party, which has been in power without interruption since 2016. Moreover, out of almost the two hundred countries in the world today (the basis for which status is their membership of the UN), only 12 recognize Taiwan as an equal. Of these, the largest are Guatemala and Paraguay (with populations of approximately 20 and 10 million respectively). The others are mostly tiny states, three of which (the Marshall Islands, Tuvalu and Palau), located in the Pacific Ocean basin, were visited by Taiwanese President William Lai on December 1 during a week-long tour.

A global conflict between the nuclear superpowers of the US and PRC could erupt over Taiwan

As was to be expected the People’s Republic of China reacted negatively to this foreign policy initiative by the leadership of what it sees as the “rebellious province,” and particularly to the fact that the China Airlines airliner carrying William Lai also stopped off at Guam, an “unincorporated territory” of the United States and Hawaii, the 50th US state. It should be noted that this is by no means the first time that Taiwanese leaders have taken such provocative “liberties” in their dealings with Beijing. A year ago, William Lai, then Vice President, took the opportunity to “stop off in the USA” on his way to Paraguay, where he was invited as a guest of honor to attend the inauguration of that country’s new president.

“Quiet Diplomacy” by Tsai Ing-wen

Lai’s predecessor as president, Tsai Ing-wen, who left the post in May this year after serving two terms, has also continued to be active in the international arena. Despite no longer holding an official position, she has directly engaged in “quiet diplomacy” with countries which are friendly to the island (though without maintaining official relations with it), and with which, acting through trusted envoys, she cultivated good relationships during her tenure as president.

In October this year, she visited a number of European countries, one of the highlights of her tour being a meeting with a group of MEPs. It has been suggested that her visit contributed to the European Parliament’s subsequent adoption of a resolution on “The People’s Republic of China’s misinterpretation of UN General Assembly Resolution 2758 and its ongoing military threats around Taiwan.” Moreover, it should be noted that on November 29, a similar “Resolution” was unanimously approved by the British House of Commons, the fifth parliament to pass such a resolution.

But Tsai Ing-wen’s trip to Canada at the end of November was far from “quiet,” and was in fact quite loud in terms of the outspoken statements made. While there she attended the Halifax International Security Forum, where she was officially given the John McCain Prize, awarded to her back in 2021. The Global Times responded with an entirely predictable commentary (with an accompanying illustration).

As for the United States, the main source of foreign policy support for the current Taiwanese leadership, let us first of all focus on the outgoing Biden administration’s signing on November 29 of a $387 million dollar contract (the 18th during the Biden administration and the 6th in 2024 alone) for the supply of military equipment to Taiwan. In response, the Chinese Foreign Ministry, with reference to a number of fundamental bilateral documents in the field of the Taiwan issue, promised to adopt certain “countermeasures.”

Once again, we note the considerable wariness with which Taiwan met the remarks of the next US President Donald Trump (as well as his close associate Elon Musk) on a number of issues relating to the silicon chip industry. It seems that these remarks are behind the prediction made in late November by a Taipei-based market research firm that Arizona plants being built by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSMC), the world’s leading chipmaker, will make the US the world’s second-largest chipmaker as early as 2027.

Taiwan’s domestic political situation and its relations with the Mainland

It should be noted that the domestic situation faced by the current Taiwanese administration as it asserts itself in the foreign policy arena is significantly less comfortable than it was during Tsai Ing-wen’s two consecutive terms in power. This was a consequence of the results of the general elections held in January this year, in which the ruling Democratic Progressive Party retained the presidency while losing its majority in the unicameral parliament.

In reality, the DPP can be described as “ruling” only with certain qualifications, as the DPP government is facing difficulties in getting even such an extremely important document as the budget for the next fiscal year through the Parliament. The acuteness of the post-election internal political situation has been highlighted by new cases of hand-to-hand fighting in parliamentduring the discussion of a certain controversial issue. Such scuffles between the opposing factions have not been seen since William Lai’s inauguration as president in May of this year.

Taiwanese separatism is unacceptable to the Kuomintang

It is worth repeating that the leading opposition party, the Kuomintang, can, with certain reservations, be described as “anti-separatist” in nature. While it agrees with the leadership of the PRC (“Mainland China”) on its key position, namely the “One China” principle as enshrined, in particular, in the so-called 1992 Consensus, the Kuomintang has always steered clear of specific interpretations of both and, above all, of naming a schedule for the reunification of the island with the PRC. In addition, during that party’s tenure in power, US arms flowed into the island on a scale no smaller than today.

And yet Beijing takes a positive view of the Kuomintang’s refusal to claim the status of a de facto independent state for Taiwan, as this issue is fundamentally important for it. The DPP is increasingly, and openly, doing precisely that, and its position is, in practice, being met with understanding in Washington. Although the US also continues to officially declare its respect for the “One China” principle.

Like the Kuomintang, the DPP publicly insists on its desire to develop relations with Mainland China. But Taiwan nevertheless invariably insists on the necessity of observing the “equality of the parties,” and, what is more, in practice various obstacles are always raised when it comes to the issue of developing bilateral contacts.

When it comes to developing relations with the PRC, the activities of the former Taiwanese president Ma Ying-jeou, who headed a Kuomintang government between 2008 and 2016, are being encouraged by Beijing. Thus, with the assistance of the Ma Ying-jeou Foundation, a delegation of forty students and professors from seven universities in the PRC traveled to Taiwan in late November for a nine-day visit, and were warmly welcomed by a group of Taiwanese students at Taipei airport.

The current Taiwanese administration has little enthusiasm, to put it mildly, for this kind of activism by the former Taiwanese president and the Kuomintang. In particular, the next Taipei-Shanghai Sister Cities Forum in December this year, which this time will be held in Taiwan, is expected with a real sense of wariness. Already, we can hear statements along the lines of “We’ll see who our visitors from the Mainland are, and we’ll refuse admission to the human rights abusers.” The Taiwanese authorities are also not above intimidating Taiwanese citizens planning to travel to Mainland China by hinting at potential problems they may experience (“you may be arrested as separatists there”).

There are cases of prosecutions of activists from opposition parties, something that the government justifies by the Jesuitical reasoning that it is “protecting democracy from encroachment by potential autocrats.” Although the only thing that connects the party initiating such actions with democracy is its name.

As, indeed, is the case everywhere in the part of the modern world order that supports the current ruling regime in Taiwan.

Vladimir Terekhov, expert on the issues of the Asia-Pacific region

Why Consciousness is Immortal | The Philosophical Proof of Life After Death

Bad TV

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Scott Skinner

This story contains themes or mentions of substance abuse.

James took the bathroom art off the wall and put it on the counter. I watched as he used its glass front to cut his cocaine into three short lines. The powder appeared to levitate above the typography print that read, “Please don’t do coke in the bathroom.”James snorted a line using a rolled-up twenty, slurped the drip from the back of his throat, and spit the wet into the sink. He did that every time he did coke. Snort. Slurp. Spit. I didn’t want to be there, but I couldn’t get out; James and Mandy Stuart pinned me to the back corner of the half bathroom when they rushed in, saying they wanted a bump before Entourage started. James snatched the artwork from the wall like it was routine. I wondered if Ryan told him to use it.My guess was Ryan yelled at James when he tried to do coke in the kitchen because the maids had just cleaned it. He probably told James to go to the bathroom and use the picture frame. Ryan liked to keep a clean house. He was fussy about his things, and he had many of them because he had rich parents. He liked to peacock. I’ve seen him wear white jeans bedazzled in rhinestones. He also got laser hair removal and matched his socks with his accessories. Somehow it all got him laid.Ryan attracted women like his ex, Mandy Stuart, who I gawked at like a genie’s magic lamp. If you gave me one wish back then, I would have chosen her. But we had nothing in common, I wanted to be a writer, and she made gossip videos on Youtube and was my best friend’s ex; it never could have happened, but she was so alluring you couldn’t help but dream.I watched her take James’s twenty and stick it up her nose as she lowered her face to the picture frame. She snorted up the coke, and I felt like I was in a movie because she was that beautiful, and because Ryan’s house was that nice, and because doing coke was what they did in Entourage.I’ll tell you, I’d done coke before then, but I didn’t do it like them, and I wasn’t going to do it that Sunday because I’d decided earlier that week that that Sunday would be when I would finally start writing. Sundays were perfect for me because I’d kick it with the boys and watch Entourage, and Entourage was a creative show, so I thought it would help spur my creativity. The plan seemed so perfect, but I could never share it with my friends. I didn’t tell anyone I wanted to be a writer.After Mandy Stuart gave James back the twenty, he shook his arms like a wiggling dog. Actually, he sort of looked like a dog. He was squat and had dog-like strength, and I’d seen him attack people outside bars and inside rings like a dog. My general opinion on dogs is that you cannot trust them if they’re not golden retrievers. This is where I tell you that James wasn’t a golden retriever.He tried to pass me the twenty.“I’m not doing it,” I said, worried about Mandy Stuart’s reaction, but she paid me little attention. Her reflection hypnotized her. She smiled and nodded at herself like she was practicing for an interview.James called me a bitch, “Why aren’t you doing this line?”“Because I don’t want to do it,” I said.“Bullshit,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Just tell me why you’re not doing the coke. You got a date or something?”I couldn’t tell him I was writing. It was worse than fear; telling someone about my dream of writing was a like a phobia.I told him a lie, “That’s right. I have a date.”He guffawed, “Who is she?”“You don’t know her,” I said.He laughed, and it offended me.Mandy Stuart opened the door to go back into the living room, “It’s starting!”James plunged the bill into his nose and did the final line of coke. Snort. Slurp. Spit. 

Then, before I knew it, James had a finger jabbing me in the stomach. You’d swear it was made out of steel. He prodded, “You’re not really going on a date, are you?”

I told him to stop, but the way I said it was too emotional, and he laughed at me. I know I called him a dog, but sometimes when he laughed, the way his jaw moved, he looked like a shark.

“You’re lucky it’s Entourage,” He said, swimming out of the bathroom.

I exited the bathroom to see two pistols, a gun sight, and a box of ammo on the ottoman and Mandy Stuart helping Ryan put on Louie Vuitton gun holsters. She tightened the cross straps, so they were snug across his shoulders.

“You look hot,” She said.

Ryan slapped his hairless stomach, “I could stand to lose a few.”

Then he noticed how his ex was looking at him and corrected, “But you think I look good? You like it?”

Mandy Stuart stuck her pretty finger – the same one she used to plug her nose – into her mouth and bit it while staring at Ryan. Boing. You’d think you were watching the beginning of a porno, but we were all supposed to be there to watch Entourage.

It was the episode where the guys are preparing for the Gatsby premiere. I sat down on Ryans’s expensive microfiber couch as far away from James as possible, but all I could pay attention to was whoever was holding the guns. I hated when Ryan took them out. There’d never been an accident, which only fueled my thoughts that there would be one soon.

As Mandy Stuart took pictures, Ryan modeled what the holster looked like with the guns tucked into their pockets. James was on the couch tossing the gun sight in the air like it was a paddle ball. He also kept tapping his foot. I guessed that Ryan had done coke earlier, and when I realized I was the only sober one in the room, I began observing the three of them like animals in a lab; this is what people do on drugs. We were supposed to be watching Entourage.

“Where’s Cory?” I asked all of them.

James rested the gun sight on his hand and squinted at me through it.

“He’s on the balcony, on the phone.”

I nodded. Cory was always on his phone, always doing something. He was the most reliable friend in the group. Ryan liked to play leader, but it was Cory who made sure we didn’t rip each other’s throats out when things got tense.

“Bro, let me see one of the guns,” James said to Ryan.

“Chill,” Ryan paused for effect, then snatched the pistol from its holster and spun it around his pointer finger. When he stopped it, the handle was facing James. I would have left, but leaving before the end of Entourage wasn’t an option. We met every Sunday, and we watched the episode in full. That was the rule.

To my right, James clacked on the gun sight. “Sam,” he said, ”just tell me what you’re doing tonight.”

I needed Cory.

“Nothing,” I said, “Going on a date.”

“Sammy’s going on a date?” Ryan said from the rocking chair, which sat in the middle of the living room. Mandy Stuart was on his lap. They’d broken up about a month ago.

I turned my head to the TV, “Let’s just watch the show, alright?”

“That’s what he says, but I don’t believe him,” said James, “Sam, tell me who you’re seeing tonight.”

“No,” I said, ignoring him.

He jabbed me in my side with the gun’s barrel.

“Dude, stop,” I said, whipping my head around and moving away from him.

James raised the gun at me and squinted through the scope, “Tell me!”

I yelled, “Stop!”

Ryan’s staccato laughter matched the creaking of the rocking chair. James burst out laughing too. I was furious and stormed out of the living room.

“Calm down, bitch” James said, “It’s not loaded.”

“Fuck you, dude,” I fired back, “I don’t want a gun pointed at me.”

By this point, the mood in the living room had soured, and Mandy Stuart got off Ryan’s lap to grab her phone off the table. I was in the kitchen and heard Cory talking on the balcony outside. He sounded concerned, but I couldn’t make out any words.

“Everyone, chill out,” Ryan said, “I’ll put away the guns.” He rode the rocking chair like a dirt bike and flung himself off it to a standing position. When he landed, he held his hand out in front of him for James to give him the gun. Once he had it in his possession, he put it in his holster, so both of the guns were where they belonged. He was standing in the middle of the living room; Drama and Turtle were on the screen behind him. I had no idea what was going on, and then Ryan looked at Mandy Stuart and asked if she wanted to help him put his guns away.

“What about the show?” I asked him as he walked up to the main bedroom, with Mandy Stuart in tow.

“We’ll be right back.”

But I knew he wouldn’t.

You might be wondering why I didn’t just tell James that I wanted to write that night; why I didn’t just tell him the truth. You know it’s not that simple if you’ve ever been bullied. If James ever found out that I wanted to be a writer, he’d make such a thing out of it that writing would be ruined. I had to protect it.

“Come back to the living room,” James said, crossing his legs on the couch. Within seconds his ankles were moving like propellers; he couldn’t sit still. I worried he’d continue to fuck with me, but you have to walk a fine line with your bully. If you shy too much away from them, it will make it worse; you have to be around them but not let them too close.

That Entourage episode was the first time I saw Gal Gadot on TV; no one knew who she was back then. She started on Entourage, and now she’s Wonder Woman. Incredible. I went back into the living room, sat on the chaise lounge across from James, and hoped he’d let it drop. We watched the TV for less than two minutes before he started back up.

James, seated, tilted from side to side, his feet on the ground, “You know Mandy Stuart’s freaked out by you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She says you don’t have a thing.”

“A thing?” I asked.

“Yea, like she’s a Youtuber, Ryan’s rich, I’m a fighter, but you don’t have a thing.”

His words drilled a hole through my stomach, but I still couldn’t tell him the truth; he would ask too many questions and see that I hadn’t put in the work. I pictured my closed laptop, in its case, under a pile of unread books. If I was a writer, I was also a fisherman and a skier; I’d done them all the same amount that year. Was it once or twice?

I looked down at my feet and heard a trickle of moans above me.

Ugh. Uggggggggggggh. Uggggggggh. Ryan and Mandy Stuart were having sex upstairs.

As the ceiling thudded, I noticed James stand up. With two steps, he was at my side, and before I knew it, I was under attack; he bashed his knee into the side of my leg. The pain was so severe I dropped from the couch to the floor.

James stood over me. He told me to hit him.

“Fuck off,” I said, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help you. You’re being a bitch.”

On TV, I saw Jamie-Lynn Sigler and Turtle on Rodeo Dr. Is this the scene where I get my ass beat?

The balcony door shut, and Cory walked in, rubbing his hands together. He was the only one of us who looked like he could ever be on TV. He dressed like he belonged in Entourage. He had a unique character, too; he gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. Even when he saw James in a fighting stance and me on my knees, he asked in good faith, “What did I miss?” He grinned at us like he was in on a joke, “And I’m not talking about what’s happening upstairs because I know they’re fucking.”

“James just hit me,” I said.

James rubbed his eyes, “He’s being a bitch, Cory.”

“Jamie, baby, you can’t act like this,” Cory said, clasping his hands in front of him, “Sammieboy’s our friend.”

Cory helped me onto the couch.

“You want to do some coke?” James asked Cory.

“Would that make you happy?” Cory nodded at James and I, “Would doing coke make this situation better?”

“Sam’s not doing coke; he’s leaving soon,” James crossed his arms, “He’s got a date.”

“I missed the show,” Cory said, motioning to the credits rolling on the TV before looking back at me,“So, Sammie’s got a date. Right on.“

Cory squatted a little to get to James’s eye level, “We should be happy for our friends, right?”

Somehow him treating us like children had defused the situation. James stumbled to the bathroom, and Cory extended his hand to say goodbye, “What are you doing tonight, Sam?”

“Nothing, I just want to go home,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I love that about you, Sam; you do whatever you want.”

When I got home, I had to charge my computer before it would turn on, and when I was faced with the white of the blank page, I couldn’t write, and I didn’t try. I blamed it on James, but I probably would have found another excuse if it weren’t him. Maybe I didn’t have a thing. Dammit; I slammed the laptop shut.

Ryan, Cory, James, and I watched Entourage together every Sunday for two more seasons after that night, and James and I never talked about that night. We were quasi-friends until a few years ago when he died from Fentanyl. His failed MMA career left him a destitute addict. You know how it is – it can happen to anyone. Mandy Stuart has twenty-three million followers on Instagram, and Ryan bought a mansion in Texas and told me he gets a trust fund of two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. Cory started working as an executive assistant for Stewart Butterfield the year before he founded Slack, and now he’s a successful investor in tech. We rarely all get together these days, but when we do, Entourage is never mentioned, and I don’t bring up my writing; you don’t talk about bad TV.

Beef with Olives and Almonds (Picadillo)

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1 clove garlic, chopped
  • 2 medium tomatoes, chopped
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  • 1/4 cup raisins
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/4 cup slivered almonds
  • 1/4 cup pimento-stuffed olives
  • Hot cooked rice

Instructions

  1. Cook and stir beef, onion and garlic in 10-inch skillet until beef is light brown; drain.
  2. Add tomatoes, green pepper, raisins, salt, cinnamon and cloves. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes.
  3. Cook and stir almonds over medium heat until golden, 2 to 3 minutes.
  4. Stir almonds and olives into beef mixture.
  5. Serve with rice.

Clinically Dead 6 Minutes; Man Visits Infinite Universe And Is Shown Our Purpose On Earth (NDE)

 

On the smells of California

I visited Vietnam for 8 days recently

No comparison whatsoever

Here are some points :-

#1 Vietnam has virtually NO supply chain

Every factory in Vietnam runs on Chinese Machines most of the time Or in some cases German Machines

Most of the parts for Final Or Secondary Assembly come from China

#2 Most of the Industry is still Low Grade

The Largest Four Factories in the Mekong region make Textiles, Textiles, Bakelite Moulds for Phones & Cardboard Boxes

Vietnamese Industry is close to 90% Low Grade and 10% Medium Grade – similar to what China was between 2003–2007

#3 Vietnam has a Pretty Low Supervisory Force

Vietnam has a some Engineers educated in places like Singapore but even so 80% Supervisors are Chinese

Vietnam as yet don’t have the volume of Skilled Workers that is needed to migrate to Medium Or High Grade Manufacture


However some positives include

A. Vietnam has a decent Skilled Labor Force and a lot of women laborers

B. Vietnam has 15 Industrial Parks where they now make Mid Quality Products like Branded Razor Blades & I Pads

However Vietnam lacks the Logistics & Supply Chain potential of China by a very long way off

A Soft Murmur

A customizable background noise generator. You can mix different sounds like rain, wind, and fire to create the perfect ambient noise for work or relaxation.

A soft murmur

Some examples of the content…

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The New Reality of American Oligarchy

Roger Boyd

I am putting together a piece that will cover the happenings of this December, to provide a stock taking prior to Trump’s inauguration. The Western security state has been very busy attempting to get things in place before Trump comes to power, and there are also many other significant changes to be taken into account. There is a mix of imperial losses, the delay of probable losses and the odd victory; what one would expect from a deteriorating empire. It is important to understand the underlying trend and not get lost in the noise. The piece below covers the reality of the rule of the US by an increasingly small group of the billionaire class, exemplified by the Trump administration and its donor class.

The US elite neoliberal revolution that was fully launched in the 1970s has now arrived at its logical conclusion, with a very small group of billionaire and multi-billionaire oligarchs utterly controlling the government through political donations. A type of outright bribery fully legalized by the Supreme Court in a number of judgements that started with the 1976 Buckley vs. Veleo case, found full force with the 2010 Citizen’s United vs. FEC case and continued with the 2014 McCutcheon vs. FEC case. With political bribes and concentrated money attacks on progressive (and anti-Zionist) candidates now legally defined as protected free speech, combined with the massive concentration of wealth at the very top of wealth pyramid, US politicians are now fully courtiers of the 0.001%; a few thousand US citizens (and that’s counting their spouses and children).

The Washington Post blithely displayed this reality as it detailed how 45% of all campaign contributions came from fifty billionaires (US$1.6 billion to Republicans, US$0.75 billion to Democrats), and that does not count all the “dark money” political pools that act independently and actively hide their funders. Some of the oligarch billionaires:

  1. Timothy Mellon, Railroad Magnate and Heir (part of the Mellon dynasty): US$197 million
  2. Richard & Elisabeth Uihlein, Shipping Supplies Magnates (part of the Uihlein dynasty that owned the Schlitz Brewing Company): US$139 million
  3. Miriam Adelson, Widow of Casino Magnate Sheldon Adelson and arch Jewish Zionist (served in the Israeli army and has Israeli citizenship): US$136 million
  4. Elon Musk, Transportation Entrepreneur, owner of Twitter/X and currently richest man in the world (born into the wealthy South African Musk family), forced to bow down to the Zionists: US$132 million
  5. Kenneth Griffin, Hedge Fund Manager (born into a wealthy family): US$104 million
  6. Jeff & Janine Yass, Financial Trader and arch Jewish Zionist: US$96 million
  7. Paul Singer, Hedge Fund Manager and Jewish “rabid Zionist”: US$63 million
  8. Michal Bloomberg, Financial Information Provider (founder of Bloomberg) and Jewish Zionist: US$47 million
  9. Stephen & Christine Schwarzman, Investors (founder of the Blackstone Group) and Jewish Zionists: US$40 million
  10. Dustin Moscowitz, Facebook co-founder and Jewish: US$39 million

US$993 million from just 10 donors, out of a total of US$2.5 billion for the top 50 billionaire contributors. Even among the billionaire class, wealth and political contributions are concentrated near the top! Imagine how much clout this concentration of wealth and political donations gives these ten donors over the US political courtier class. Out of those ten, five are Jewish Zionists, one is Jewish, and another was forced by his advertisers to bow down to the Zionist regime. The other US billionaires benefit from Israel’s role of disciplining the Middle East and supplying operatives for so many dirty political operations around the world, so there are very few that oppose the Zionist regime’s actions. No wonder nearly every Trump nominee seems to spout Make Israel Great Again more than Make America Great Again. He is bought and paid for by Zionist money, and most especially Miriam Adelson.

Following in the foot steps of her shady husband, who made most of his money in Macau where Chinese organized crime is rampant.

Of course, the Democrats have been all in on the Zionist genocide and happily invited Netanyahu to speak to the US political courtier class during the genocide. And Biden’s cabinet was extensively stocked with Zionists.

Another thing that these donors share is an utter distastefulness for being taxed, and their tax dollars “wasted” on the “unworthy”; some much more rabidly than others. Five made their money in finance, one from social media, one from shipping supplies, one from railroads (which he inherited), and one from Casinos (inevitably involving linkages with organized crime, just like Trump with his casinos). Only one is involved in manufacturing; very much representative of the new US wealth. Tax cuts are always on the agenda, never tax rises (for the rich), and the regulation of the financial industry (especially for hedge funds and private equity) is hardly ever on the table; only post-2008 was some window dressing regulatory legislation required. They all live lives that are utterly disconnected from the lives of even multi-millionaires, let alone the average American.

The oligarch billionaire class is also becoming increasingly embedded with the security state, and adept at utilizing political donations to have themselves appointed to important positions within the very state that their corporations are entwined with. A specially egregious case is Howard Lutnick (CEO of Cantor Fitzgerald, a very large player in the US government debt market) who played a central role in gathering donations for Trump. Another of his companies, Satellogic is very much in bed with the security state and global surveillance, and also using the revolving door as its board has a former Chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff as a member. In his new role as Commerce Secretary, Lutnick will be overseeing agencies, such as NOAA, that Satellogic wants to sell its services to. His stable coin venture Tether has also become a large holder of US government debt. Mark Goodwin and Whitney Webb detail Lutnick’s incestuous relationship with state organizations here.

Then we have a Vice President who is a creation of the silicon valley billionaire Peter Thiel, the owner of the Palantir data gathering and analysis corporation that is in bed with the security state, as well as many other parts of the state and in many different countries. The CIA venture fund was one of the founding investors in Palantir. Trae Stephens, a close affiliate of Thiel, may get the number 2 job at the Pentagon. The other option for the job is a Stephen Feinburg who previously owned a prominent MIC contractor and now heads a Cerberus Capital Management that launched a major defence-focused venture capital fund in 2024. Musk, the co-head of the proposed DOGE agency is also a major state contractor through his SpaceX venture. And which areas is DOGE focusing on? The vast cesspit of corruption that is the Defence Budget and the five massive defence contractors (Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, General Dynamics, Northrop Grumman and Boeing)? The massive profiteering of the Health Industrial Complex?

No, of course not; the targets seem to be the Internal Revenue Service (the agency that taxes the billionaires) and Social Security (money “wasted” on the retired plebs, and vast sums that could be freed from the state to be looted by the financiers). The above are just a few of the oligarchs who are getting themselves placed in important government roles. Who needs courtiers when you can run the state yourself?

In the background we have the modern day equivalents of the anti-competitive and corrupt “trusts” that dominated the US corporate world of the late nineteenth century Gilded Age; Blackrock (US$11.5 trillion under management), The Vanguard Group (US$9.3 trillion under management), and State Street (US$4 trillion under management and US$40 trillion under custody and administration).

The Chairman and CEO of Blackrock, a publicly traded company, is one of its founders, billionaire Larry Fink (US1.2 billion). Vanguard is a private company owned by investment clients (CEO Salim Ramji) and State Street is a publicly traded company (Chairman and CEO Ronald O. O’Hanley). Then in addition, there is the global leader in private equity investment, behemoth Blackstone with US$8.7 trillion under management, with the CEO being the co-founder and billionaire Stephen Schwarzman (US$54 billion). Then there are lesser private equity players such as KKR (US$1 trillion under management), Apollo, the Carlyle Group, Bain Capital and Warburg Pincus. Always searching for areas that can be turned into monopolies or cozy oligopolies to maximize the extractive profits of the ownership class.

Through such vehicles the ownership class concentrate their wealth and power, dominating US and other corporations. In so many US and other corporations Blackrock, Vanguard and State Street will be the top three shareholders, or within the top five. At the same time, Blackstone and others can utilize their assets, together with vast borrowing capacity, to take corporations private and shake them down for the benefit of their investors and management. The senior executives of these investment corporations, representing the ownership class, wield immense power; for example Larry Fink and Stephen Schwarzman are considered to be two of the most powerful people in the world.

These new style trusts also get their executives appointed to important government positions, and even get appointed to run significant parts of the government; as with Blackrock and the large scale US state interventions in the debt markets during the COVID-19 pandemic. A direct conflict of interest given Blackrock’s large US government and corporate bond holdings.

Elections in the US have always been mostly performative and superficial, but in the post-WW2 era the US rich held less of the economic pie and were less concentrated. With the massive concentration of wealth of the past 50 years, both within society and within the wealthy, an incredibly small group of the extreme wealthy together with those that manage the concentrated assets of the wealthy, exercise more power over the government than the rest of society combined. Added to this of course is the concentration of the US (and Western) media, including social media, in so few hands; greatly aided by the lack of any real anti-trust enforcement and oversight since the 1980s.

Even with this level of propagandist control, the level of outright looting and theft of this concentrated oligarchy has become more and more apparent to the general citizenry. A new Gilded Age, but this time the Robber Barons are more feasting off the already in place wealth of the nation and the people rather than building new wealth; a cannibal capitalism that eats its own base of strength. It is in such circumstances that the murder of the CEO of a healthcare company, which excelled in refusing claims under his leadership, is met with a general feeling of “he got what he deserved” by such a large chunk of the population.

There has been a significant a level of breakdown in the “manufacturing of consent”; even in the face of escalating levels of state and concentrated media censorship. When propaganda fails to control the population, liberalism can remove its velvet gloves to show its fascist fists. The result can only be greater authoritarianism as the mask of “democracy” has been so utterly removed and the oligarchy continue to plunder and immiserate the citizenry. Frank Zappa was incredibly prescient when he said:

The concentration of wealth in lesser and lesser hands, the disconnection of the rulers from the ruled, a vast courtier class fully focused on slavishly serving the oligarchs and not discomfiting them with inconvenient truths, the immiseration of the ruled as the rulers openly display their vast wealth, vast private wealth amidst public squalor; these are all symptoms of a failing empire. An imperial oligarchy feasting on the very bases of its own power, like a snake eating its own tail.

Does The US need the many consumer goods that China produces at a cheap price? Can the US obtain these goods from other countries at similar prices? Can the US produced these products itself?

While the incomes of most Americans have stagnated for the past 50 years, they have been able to enjoy a decent standard of living because of cheap products from China. American companies manufacture in the PRC to take advantage of China’s lower costs and to increase profits. While China benefits, US companies benefit more.

It may be possible to buy goods from countries other than China but they tend to be not as good or as cheap. If this were not so, the US would have already turned to these sources.

The US lacks the supply chains, factories, logistics, and trained workers to make these products themselves. And if they solved these problems, the labour and other costs would make these goods expensive. These problems will take many years to solve.

It is clear that the rapist and felon t**** does not understand economics nor international trade. Most of us know he’s stupid. Many of his advisres are not. But they are so well paid that they are insulated from the inevitable rising costs of products. Their interests are not those of ordinary Americans; their aim is to stay in power and enrich themselves and their rich donors.

In the short-term, prices will rise at least by the amount of the tariff but is likely to be more than that as companies try to increase their profits; they have a ready-made excuse in t****’s tariffs. In the medium-term, this situation will persist.

In the long-term, Americans had better get their act together and fix their political leadership in an attempt to halt the county’s downward spiral.

Good luck the USA. You are going to need it.

Here is who is leading the United States Senate

Terrible. You must watch this video.

Hal Turner Commentary;

To the people of the Great State of Kentucky.  Your beloved United States Senator, Mitch McConnel, appears to need your intervention.  The video below, displays how tragic his situation has become.

PLEASE, Intervene. 

Ask your Governor and your state Legislature to intervene.  You no longer have Representation from this man, who is tragically suffering from the effects of old age.  It's not the Senator's fault.  He is the victim of the ravages of age.  

At this terrible stage of his decline, keeping him in Washington is just wrong.  Perhaps your Governor can make a finding of "Severe Cognitive disability" and appoint a replacement. 

Yes, there __may__ be a court challenge, but what's happened to Mitch McConnell is not just a personal tragedy for him, it affects the people of Kentucky as well.   

Please intervene.

A New Chapter Of The Bible Was Found Hidden Inside 1,750-Year-Old Text

Friday, Dec 13, 2024 – 09:05 AM

Via The Mind Unleashed,

Hidden for centuries, a forgotten chapter of the Bible has emerged from the shadows of history. Researchers, armed with ultraviolet light and meticulous scholarship, have uncovered a 1,750-year-old text that offers a fresh glimpse into the evolving nature of scripture. This find isn’t just a historical curiosity; it’s a profound insight into how faith and tradition were shaped in early Christianity.

Preserved in an ancient Syriac manuscript, the chapter challenges long-held assumptions about biblical texts and their seemingly static nature. With its subtle variations and expanded narrative, this rediscovery raises compelling questions: What does this mean for the modern understanding of faith? And how many more hidden chapters might still be waiting to be found?
Unearthing a Lost Piece of Biblical History

In a groundbreaking intersection of technology and ancient history, scholars have uncovered a hidden chapter of the Bible within a 1,750-year-old Syriac manuscript preserved in the Vatican Library. Using ultraviolet (UV) light, researchers revealed traces of erased writing—a palimpsest—buried beneath layers of overwritten text. This painstaking process illuminated an earlier version of scripture, lost to time but now reintroduced to the world.

The manuscript, part of the Syriac translations of the Bible, is more than just a relic. It represents a key moment in Christianity’s history, when scribes worked tirelessly to preserve scripture under challenging conditions. Early Christians relied on Syriac texts to disseminate their teachings across cultural and linguistic boundaries, making this find a window into their lived experiences.

What makes this discovery especially remarkable is its collaborative nature. Historians, linguists, and scientists pooled their expertise to decode the faded script, each stroke of ink offering clues to a story untold for nearly two millennia. This isn’t just a triumph for biblical studies; it’s a testament to the enduring power of curiosity and innovation to uncover humanity’s shared past.
The Hidden Chapter: What We Know So Far

The newly unveiled chapter offers an expanded version of Matthew 12, a passage where Jesus and his disciples are criticized for picking grain on the Sabbath. In this version, subtle textual variations bring fresh theological nuances to light, emphasizing compassion and mercy over rigid observance of religious laws. While the core message aligns with established teachings, these differences hint at the dynamic and adaptive nature of early Christian scripture.

Written in ancient Syriac, one of the earliest languages used to transmit biblical texts, the chapter provides a rare glimpse into Christianity’s early cultural diversity. Syriac was instrumental in spreading scripture beyond its Jewish origins, tailoring messages to resonate with varied linguistic and cultural communities. This adaptation reflects the pragmatic approach of early Christians, who shaped their sacred texts to meet the needs of a rapidly growing faith.

What’s particularly striking is the role of early scribes. Far from being passive transcribers, they actively engaged with the material, reinterpreting and preserving it in ways that reflected their own spiritual and societal realities. This hidden chapter, with its emphasis on mercy, reveals a faith not rigidly bound to dogma but alive with reinterpretation and evolution—a window into the beliefs and priorities of communities navigating the complexities of their time.
The Technology That Unveiled the Forgotten Chapter

It’s hard to believe that something written almost 2,000 years ago could still be hiding in plain sight. But that’s exactly what happened here. Using ultraviolet light, researchers managed to reveal a forgotten chapter of the Bible, hidden beneath layers of overwritten text on an ancient manuscript. It’s like uncovering a secret message written centuries ago, invisible to the naked eye but waiting to be found.

The process wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Think about it—this manuscript is old, fragile, and irreplaceable. Every move had to be precise, every scan done with the utmost care. Months of work went into piecing together faint traces of erased ink, with experts from all over—historians, linguists, scientists—working side by side. It’s amazing to think that this discovery wouldn’t have been possible even a few decades ago. The tools they used, like UV imaging, are giving us new ways to see the past in ways we never thought possible.

But here’s what really gets you thinking—what else is out there? If something as groundbreaking as a hidden chapter of the Bible can be uncovered, what other secrets might still be lying in wait? This is more than a cool tech story; it’s a reminder that history always has more to give, as long as we keep asking the right questions.

A Manuscript’s Journey Through Time

Think about this for a second: early Christians lived in a world where their beliefs could literally get them killed. Their sacred texts weren’t just important—they were lifelines, hidden and protected at all costs. That’s the world this 1,750-year-old Syriac manuscript comes from. Imagine scribes painstakingly copying and preserving these words, knowing the risks they faced if they were caught.

Back then, parchment wasn’t exactly easy to come by. It was expensive, rare, and, honestly, every bit as valuable as the words written on it. To make the most of it, scribes would scrape off old texts and reuse the material—creating what we now call palimpsests. It’s kind of wild to think that their recycling efforts accidentally preserved traces of history that they probably thought were gone for good.

Here’s another fascinating detail: this manuscript is written in Syriac. It’s one of the earliest languages used to spread Christianity and shows how the faith started to move beyond its Jewish roots. Syriac wasn’t just a language—it was a tool that helped Christianity adapt and grow, reaching new communities and cultures. That’s what makes this discovery so powerful. It’s not just about words on a page; it’s about the lengths people went to protect and share their beliefs.

And now, centuries later, we’re uncovering their story. You can almost picture the hands that wrote and rewrote this text, working in secret, determined to pass on what they believed mattered most. It’s a humbling reminder of just how much history can hide beneath the surface—literally—and how much these ancient voices still have to say.
What Scholars Are Saying: A New Lens on Scripture

This hidden chapter of the Bible has sparked lively debates among scholars. Many see it as a fascinating window into how early Christian communities understood and adapted scripture. The chapter’s emphasis on mercy over strict adherence to religious laws aligns with Jesus’ teachings but adds a fresh perspective to familiar passages. This nuance suggests early Christians may have tailored scripture to address the unique challenges of their time.

At the heart of the debate is the question of why this chapter was erased. Some scholars suggest it might have been excluded as church leaders worked to formalize the biblical canon, streamlining texts to unify doctrine. Others argue that its omission could simply reflect the practical realities of the time, with scribes overwriting older texts due to the scarcity of parchment. Whatever the reason, the discovery underscores the dynamic and evolving nature of early Christianity.

Ultimately, this find is about more than one chapter. It’s a reminder that the Bible, far from being a static document, was shaped over centuries by human hands and decisions. For scholars and believers alike, the chapter offers a chance to reexamine the past while raising new questions about the stories still waiting to be uncovered.
Hidden Truths, Endless Possibilities

The discovery of this hidden Bible chapter is more than a historical footnote—it’s a vivid reminder of how much the past still has to teach us. From the resilience of early Christian communities to the evolving nature of scripture itself, this find opens a window into a world where faith and history were deeply intertwined. It also shows how modern technology can breathe life into ancient artifacts, revealing secrets thought lost to time.

But this is likely just the beginning. Who knows what other forgotten chapters, erased writings, or hidden narratives are still waiting to be uncovered? Each discovery invites us to ask new questions, challenge old assumptions, and deepen our understanding of the stories that have shaped human history. Whether it’s faith, curiosity, or a little of both driving the search, one thing is certain—history still has plenty of mysteries left to share.

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Russia Just Replaced the EU in China’s Pork Market – $3.5 Billion Market Shaking Europe’s Confidence

Please keep in mind that China produces MOST of it’s pork needs. So imports from the EU is rather trivial.

More than a year and a half ago I wrote about the Daniel Penny subway incident in the New York City subway. Now the ordeal is over, Penny has been found not guilty of all charges and is a free man. But everything I said in that initial article remains true, and the regime won.

First, here’s what I said:

There’s a very clear lesson to be learned here. You, as a normal citizen, can be robbed, raped, or murdered at will and our police won’t even lift a finger to do anything to prevent it, and usually not even arresting the criminal afterwards. And even when the criminal is arrested, his bail and jail sentence will be laughably low… That’s the bail violent rapists can expect in democratic America. But if you’re charged with a political crime, like protesting on Jan. 6, expect a bail in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Police won’t help you because that’s not their job. Police are simply security officers for the central party. Their duty is to provide personal security for our elites and arrest political dissidents, and that’s it.

Dafna Yoran, the prosecutor, is a radical neoliberal activist who staunchly advocates for “restorative justice,” which in practice (as opposed to what restorative justice is actually supposed to do), simply means giving light sentences to the most grotesque offenders.

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main qimg 2d72ac6dfd17015985c9e18407e2371a

Dafna Yoran

Yoran recently advocated on the behalf of murderer Matthew Lee, who killed Young Kun Kim, an 87 year old Asian American professor, and stole $300 while Kim was using an ATM. Thanks to Yoran’s efforts, Lee received only 10 years in prison, rather than a life sentence. Note that this light sentence wasn’t the result of some Crime and Punishment style display of remorse by Lee, it was simply on account of his race, and the race of his victim. As a “white adjacent” Asian, Kim was a historical aggressor imperialist, and as a black man, Lee was his victim. The fact that Lee bashed Kim’s brains in did not even enter into the equation.

Now apply Yoran’s world view to Penny’s case. Neely was a violent drug addict with an extensive criminal record threatening to kill people on the train, but that did not matter. Neely is a historical victim, and Penny, like Kim, is a historical aggressor imperialist. So the villain here is Penny, and can only be Penny.

As I said, in modern America, the police are simply political enforcers who punish crimes against the state and the ruling elites. No one and nothing else matters. The everyday citizen being in constant fear of being randomly attacked on the train or while using the ATM is “part and parcel” of living in a neoliberal democracy. In the eyes of the regime, the citizens living in fear is a good thing, because this keeps them docile and subservient.

For such a regime, it is absolutely necessary to brutally punish any private citizen who is perceived to have violated the state monopoly on violence by defending his own life or the lives of others. That was the crime of both Kyle Rittenhouse and Daniel Penny. It would have been preferable to to lock up Rittenhouse and Penny for their defiance against the regime, but dragging them through many months of confinement, fear, financial expense and reputational damage is enough.

And that’s why I say the regime won. The next person who sees a violent criminal on the NYC subway will remember what happened to Penny, and will likely just keep walking.

Sexual Predator Gets Caught Red-Handed

ARCS 1,0

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write about a character who has access to a powerful new technology before anyone else. view prompt

Jimmy Burke

Akio walked into his therapist’s office for the 52nd time that year.Dr Ishida stood up and warmly greeted his patient, who would have been seeing him for exactly a year today.Good morning, Akio! It’s nice to see y——He was not able to finish his sentence. The young man in his mid twenties buried his right fist into Dr. Ishida’s face.The Dr, also a young man himself, being barely 32, was thrown back onto his own coffee table and collapsed onto the floor. He was clenching his nose with both hands, as it was bleeding profusely. It was clearly broken.He hadn’t full processed what had just happened when his patient (now former patient) began to speak.I want you to listen to me carefully. Think of the thoughts going through your head and the feelings that you have right now. Did you do it good! That is how I feel everyday when I walk into your goddam office. You sit there in your comfortable fantasy world, thinking you’re so wise, and that you actually understand what’s going on. But honestly, if you understood what was going on, then I think you would have moved with more of a sense of urgency in assisting me instead of milking me for more money over the past year. Your services are no longer required. Have a nice day!He stormed out of the office, leaving Dr. Ishida lying in utter shock on the floor.Akio stormed out of the downtown Osaka office and began marching down the city sidewalk. He wasn’t 100% sure where he was going.I’m so fucking mad at myself right now. I can’t believe I wasted a year of my life with that hack. I have him thousands of dollars, and for what? He thought to himself.If anything I’m more pissed than before I started visiting him….After walking about a hundred metes, he stopped and lit a cigarette from a pack that he had previously bought that day.This is weird. I don’t even smoke. What am even I doing? He inhaled and coughed*cough…….cough……Jesus…..cough*As he walked he started to feel more relaxed as the nicotine took effect. As he started to calm down, he remembered where he wanted to go. 

I wonder what Sakura is up to, he thought to himself.

 

Suddenly a look of surprise appeared on his face. The kind of look that appears when someone has just remembered something important that they had forgotten.

 

Oh shit! I’m late, he said to himself as he broke into a sprint.

 

After running like mad for about 7 city blocks, he was standing outside the door of an Internet cafe. There was a flickering neon image of a frog that was standing on its hind legs and holding a shotgun over its shoulder. The word “lyagooshka’s” was written in English under it in blue neon cursive.

 

As he opened the door, there was a jingle of a little bell that was hanging near the threshold. A slender, short haired Russian lady looked up from reading her fashion magazine. She was in her early 30’s even though she looked like she was in her early to mid 20s.

 

Her eyes immediately lit up

 

Konichiwa choovachok (dude in Russian)! Serious as ever I see!

 

Akio often found her energy to be a bit overwhelming for his taste. But he had gotten used to it. He had been going to that internet cafe ever since college. It was close to his apartment, not too big, and it was pretty cheap. Before he knew it, he was spending just about every waking moment that he wasn’t wasting in his office job, in that secluded cafe. And there seemed to be very few people there, which was another plus, because he hated being around people he didn’t know.

 

But despite their different personalities, she was beginning to grow on him.

 

Akio looked at her with a straight face.

 

Hey Vika 

 

Vika shifted the lollipop in her mouth and looked at him inquisitively.

 

So how’s life? You usually come in 2 hours earlier on Saturdays. You look kind of wiped out.

 

Akio took out his credit card and slid it into the reader.

 

The cash register said 10,000 yen.

 

I had something I had to take care of, he said while avoiding eye contact.

 

Look at you, sounding all like a secretive badass, said Vika.

 

Ha ha said Akio sarcastically.

 

Vika looked at him as if she was at a loss and said,  sometimes I don’t know why you work these office jobs. (shaking her head) *sighs* I think you’re better suited for more dangerous work….Hey, I know (snapping her fingers as if she just got an idea)…. You should join the military. I think you’d thrive in that kind of environment. 

 

The same way you did? Said Akio without skipping a beat..

 

Whaaat?….Hey, c’mon…. my situation was different, said Vika, almost as if pleading for somebody to stop teasing her.

 

I just don’t think I’m cut out for it, said Akio still looking at the ground.

 

He began making his way past the many cubicle-like rooms that led to the back of the cafe. The hallway was dimly lit, with a carpet that was mostly clean, except for the occasional crusty food or drink stain.

 

He finally reached the end of the hall, to a room labeled “V I P” with a neon sign of a cartoon frog standing on its hind legs, holding a cane over its shoulder and dressed as a pimp.

 

There was a faint glow emanating from the cracks of the door of the otherwise dark room.

 

He opened the door and walked in. It was a mostly empty room about twice the size of an average classroom. It was perfectly square and directly across from the door on the opposite wall.

 

Against the opposite wall, you could see two large black boxes, each being about the size of a mini van. One of the walls of each square was missing, allowing you to see inside.

 

Inside was a number of wires, red lights and switches, with a dark chair in the middle that was reclined at a 45 degree angle.

 

One was empty. In the other you could see the skinny silhouette of a person wearing a black hoodie. If you looked really closely, you could see that she was wearing a strange suit covered in very small little red connectors that looked like they could have something plugged into them.

 

Akio sped up his walk. He threw his backpack down while simultaneously grabbling the same strange suit that went over his whole body, including the back of his head. He hastily took off his shirt and pants and put it on.

 

Has it started? , asked Akio impatiently.

 

You’ve got 40 seconds to spare, said the dark silhouette sitting in the other seat.

 

These two machines were known as the Artificial Recreation of Sensory System, or ARCS 1.0 System for short. Via a number of wires that plugged into the suit, the system was able to connect to all five of the human senses and send them into the world of a popular MMORPG that was originally designed for an average gaming system known as Engines of Magic.

 

It was a steampunk-styled game that combined steampunk technology with magic. Players could choose their characters from a number of magic races such as elves, wizards, goblins, witches, fairies, etc. It was released in 2027 and it had over 3 billion users worldwide, making it the most popular videogame in human history.

 

 

The glow of the small lights within the machine illuminated the girl’s face. Although she was wearing a hoodie, you could still see the bangs of her purple-dyed hair. lean, and her height was about 5’ 8”.

 

Although Akio didn’t think she was hot by any means, he still thought her face was relatively pretty despite the fact that she wore very little makeup.

 

Her name was Sakura Takayuki. They had both known each other since meeting in their modern computer engineering course. Akio had average grades on account of not attending lecture, but Sakura excelled. She was considered a genius at any rate, and eventually became known as the most talented computer engineer at the school.

 

Are you ready, said Sakura as she sat in the chair and connected all of the appropriate wires to her suit.

 

Let’s do this, said Akio as he leaned back in the chair with a smile on his face.

 

There were only 12 ARCS systems were created, out of which, only 2 remained. All of the others were destroyed during the War of Eurasian Reunification before anyone could use this advanced technology.

 

They were the first to use this technology, and the second they entered that world, it was the digital equivalent of man taking his first step on the moon.

 

This was a secret, but still historic, step for mankind.

 

All of the red lights turned green. Both of them closed their eyes, and opened them in another universe.

What do you make of the China Semiconductor industry Association’s statement that “U.S. chip products are no longer safe and reliable”?

The development of China’s chip industry in recent years has been shrouded in complete secrecy.

Take a wild guess: why wasn’t this statement issued in 2019, but now?

Only when China is capable of producing enough chips on its own does it make sense to call for the purchase of Chinese-made chips.

Actually, it’s a joint statement made by four associations of China, including the Internet Society of China, the China Association of Automobile Manufacturers, the China Semiconductor Industry Association, and the China Association of Communications Enterprises.

These four industries are major consumer markets for US chips, involving computers, mobile phones, vehicles etc.

The statement simply urges domestic companies to buy more Chinese-made chips. If they choose American chips and face supply cuts later, they shouldn’t expect government support—it’s a risk they must bear. This move will reduce demand for American chips and boost demand for Chinese-made chips.

This indicates one thing: China has already built enough domestic chip production capacity.

The U.S. has been calling for decoupling and breaking supply chains.

This time, China is taking the initiative to decouple and break the supply chain, to see who will ultimately bear the greater loss.

The Moment She Realized She Killed 2 People

Carne de Res Deshebrada

This is the traditional Mexican filling for tacos. It is wonderful for making burritos, chimichangas, taquitos, and in carne seca.

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e70710d35fa97ef296494b1fc20bc1ee

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 (2 1/2 to 3 pound) beef brisket (smaller thinner end, trimmed of all fat)
  • 1 ancho or New Mexico dried chile, stemmed and seeded
  • 3 to 4 slices onion
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1/2 teaspoon Mexican oregano

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 300 degrees F.
  2. Heat a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add oil and brown the beef on all sides.
  3. Pour off as much oil as possible.
  4. Just barely cover the meat with water. Bring to a boil. Skim off any scum that rises to the surface.
  5. Add remaining ingredients. Cover the pot and place it in the oven until the meat is tender, about 2 to 2 1/2 hours.
  6. Remove the meat, reserving broth for other uses.
  7. When the meat is cool enough to handle, shred it. Hold a fork in each hand, and shred the beef with the forks.

What do you make of the China Semiconductor industry Association’s statement that “U.S. chip products are no longer safe and reliable”?

The development of China’s chip industry in recent years has been shrouded in complete secrecy.

Take a wild guess: why wasn’t this statement issued in 2019, but now?

Only when China is capable of producing enough chips on its own does it make sense to call for the purchase of Chinese-made chips.

Actually, it’s a joint statement made by four associations of China, including the Internet Society of China, the China Association of Automobile Manufacturers, the China Semiconductor Industry Association, and the China Association of Communications Enterprises.

These four industries are major consumer markets for US chips, involving computers, mobile phones, vehicles etc.

The statement simply urges domestic companies to buy more Chinese-made chips. If they choose American chips and face supply cuts later, they shouldn’t expect government support—it’s a risk they must bear. This move will reduce demand for American chips and boost demand for Chinese-made chips.

This indicates one thing: China has already built enough domestic chip production capacity.

The U.S. has been calling for decoupling and breaking supply chains.

This time, China is taking the initiative to decouple and break the supply chain, to see who will ultimately bear the greater loss.

Woman Pulls Swatting Prank, Gets the Surprise of Her Life

Quackers and the great Chinese Trench Coat story

No, because US decline is systemic, and has been brought about by the US’s failure to invest in it own education, manufacturing and transport infrastructure over the past 40 years since Reagan.

Reversing this policy would require a long-term commitment and strategy which would take at least 20 years before it would show results.

The issue is that the American people do not have the patience for a long-term strategy, and the federal government does not have the tools to implement this strategy. State governments do not have the access to finance to implement a 20-year strategy.

For this reason, it makes no difference who is president. In practical terms, this means that the presidential elections are mostly a debate about how the deck chairs on the Titanic should be arranged after it has hit the iceberg.

There can be no change unless the form of government changes, and that is unlikely to happen.

When it was over, the Chinese were resolutely determined to NEVER let this happen again. They worked hard to make China strong, economically and militarily. They resolutely vowed to hold onto Taiwan, which is the last remaining reminder of China’s century of humiliation.

Mission accomplished. Today, China has the largest and strongest economy in the world. China surpassed the USA by PPP in 2014. China is the largest trading partner to over 120 countries.

China is the world’s sole industrial superpower. The USA doesn’t even come close.

China has the largest and strongest military in the world. It has the largest army. It has the largest navy. It has the most advanced stealth fighters and hypersonic missiles. The US military has been in decline for decades; the USA hides this fact well.

China is fully prepared to fight for Taiwan, should it foolishly decide to secede. Taiwan’s military is no match.

Check and mate.

Gilbert Doctorow: You won’t Believe how Powerful Russia’s Oreshnik Missile is

Seán McNicholl

His breath caught in his chest, his heart skipped and his eyes dilated as they fell upon her. The elderly attendant led her out, his white gloves caressing her smooth curved body. Murmurs, quietly excited and amorous, began in the front row and swiftly spread across the onlookers as though carried on a breath of wind.

There she stood: the Vase of N’Hahn.

Jack wanted her.  Jack had to have her.

He had never been more certain of any fact in his life. He must have her. His mind, within the breadth of a moment, had been totally stolen. His imagination was filled with her red and ruby complexion. She was all he could see.

 

The bidding began.

“Please don’t do it”, muttered his friends but he ignored them.

Hands were raised, calls were shouted out. Higher and higher it rose. Jack matched every bid until it was just he and a fellow rival who was perched on the far side of the room. His hand, Jack’s hand, his hand, Jack’s hand. Higher and higher.

People close to the rival could see the beads of sweat starting to form on the poor mans brow, each bead accounted for by a raise of the hand. A small stream ran quickly down his forehead and wetted his deep brown eyes. He blinked it away.

Jack’s hand went up. The rival hesitated. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. A victorious, self-serving grin broke across Jack’s face. He knew he had the man broke. It might take a few more bids but the vase was his and his alone.

Surely, just as he thought, the man raised his hand twice more before giving in.

The beast within Jack roared.

 

 

****

 

He ushered them in, demanding more so than imploring them to be careful. The two men grunted in assent as they broke the doorway, each carrying the end of a brown wooden crate; “Fragile” decorating it on all sides.

“Follow me”, uttered Jack quickly as though the proximity of the men to that which he loved was repulsive to him.

“In here, in here!”, as he led them into the back room, which he had dubbed ‘The Study’, though study had never taken place within its walls.

Large mahogany bookshelves did stand upon three of the walls, with many unread books collecting the dust that sifted through the room. The fourth wall held the window which looked into the back garden. A towering hedge with ageing leaves obscured any view, which delighted Jack, as that meant no one could see in. No one could peer at her without him knowing or inviting.

As a result the room lay draped in shadows which scurried to the corners as soon as the door was opened and from the corners the shadows watched; watched the the men lay the box on the floor; watched as the men pried the box open and listened as Jack whimpered anxiously; watched as she was set upon the rich brown centre table which lay barren.

Jack dismissed the men without a word of thanks and followed them out, ensuring the front door was locked.

He had her alone. That which he had longed for. That which he had loved since first he saw her.

A chill of nerves ran across him. What was he to do now?

He tip toed back to the doorway and peer in.

There she sat, as beautiful as ever. Her redness more ruby in the dim, her ruby now appearing black. He admired her for a time from the doorway before moving closer.

Then he admired her from the tables edge, drinking in every curve and every line.

The shadows watched on.

With trembling hands he reached for her and felt her cool, smooth skin beneath his fingers.

She was flawless.

In his hands she even seemed to glow. The dim moved back and the shadows hid behind the bookcases.

He stared at her longingly, lovingly.

He had her.

 

*****

 

The chatter patted around the living room gaily. Spirits were high but none so much as Jack’s. He felt lighter than the air he was breathing. He floated from conversation to conversation, out to the kitchen to bring more tea and then back again, never letting his feet be marred by the cold ground on which everyone stood. He was above them all.

“So, when can we see it?”, a female voice enquired. A murmur of assent passed amongst them and rose up to meet Jack on his high.

“Now, I suppose, if you wish to”, he said offhandedly as though he couldn’t care less about it, though deep within himself the fire of his pride was stoked, and the bellows of attention inflamed him evermore.

He led the small troupe out across the hall to the back room, to the study.

It’s door stood magnanimous before them. The large key protruded from its home awaiting its turn. Jack kept his back to them but smiled to himself as he reached for the key, his anticipation for their approval superseded even their anticipation for seeing her. They had all heard so much about her, and if their dear friend was in love with it so much, it meant a great deal to them.

 

The door swung silently on its hinges. The shadows that were pawing over the vase scuttled a retreat again to the corners and eyed the strangers warily.

The troupe made their advance, falling in line behind their beloved friend.

Wordlessly he gestured to her sitting on the table. They gathered round and looked on.

Their eyes sat on her for a few moments before flickering between each other, no one wanting to speak. From somewhere beyond the shadows awkwardness presented itself, quietly resting its arms on the shoulders of all in the room. Jack felt it.

“What?” He asked impetuously, “what is it?”

Silence greeted him. Awkwardness waved at him.

“It’s nice”, came a single voice from a face with hazel eyes and a few nodded along.

“Nice!?”, he bemoaned, “Nice!? Can’t you see? Can’t you appreciate her?”

The two friends, Silence and Awkwardness, conversed together once again.

Jacks blood ran red, red like her skin that sat on the table.

“Well then”, he restrained quietly, “if you can’t appreciate her then I suggest you leave”.

Voices attempted to make reparation, proclaiming previously withheld praise, but it was to no avail. It was obvious this was mere flattery and falsehood.

A voice of reason broke rank, it’s tone a steely blue.

“A lot of money for something shabby”.

Jack flew to rage and embraced the passion, engulfing it within his chest.

“Shabby?! She is beautiful! Flawless! The image of perfection sits before you but you are all too blind to see it!”

Jack’s arms gesticulated wildly whilst some blue eyes rolled and other looked skeptically at one another.

“Get out!” Jack roared, “get out if you can’t see!”, and the disgruntled and wounded crowd made their way beyond the hallway.

Soon he was left alone with her, just he and her and the dim. The snap of the door shutting broke the stillness. His heart settled and his breathing steadied.  The tempest had past.

He stood alone with her, gazing at her for some time. Gradually and almost unnoticed, like a tide encroaching upon the shore, a sense of unease washed over him and soon he was drowning in it. He felt unworthy to be here with her, how could his eyes look upon her beauty? She deserved the quietness and the solitude, where only the shadows could fondle and caress her. He turned abruptly and left the room, stealing one last glance before the door shut and the key turned.

 

 

******

 

Many months had passed but his mind still lingered on her.

During fits of passion where he could not control himself he found himself peering through that small keyhole, if only to glimpse her perfection. He never dared open the door. How could he? How could he allow himself to see such beauty? How could he be so arrogant? So selfish?

She deserved reverence, idolatry, not to be gawked at and pawed at by someone a lowly as himself. No, he never allowed himself to use her like that. How could he? He loved her.

 

Jack often sat thinking about her, though his face never showed it. He held the same look as if he we pondering a puzzle or enjoying a book. Within his mind he sat in a fog, her image clouding his every thought.

And it was just this expression he held whilst he sat outside the small cafe, awaiting his coffee.

The waitress smiled at him as she laid it before him.

“Good morning sir?” She asked politely.

“There are many things good about it I suppose”, he replied genially.

“The weather is certainly one”, she answered.

For it had been an exceptionally good week given the season, and this morning the sun was freely bathing itself within a blue ocean above, with not a captive cloud to be seen.

The waitress smiled once again and disappeared back within the dark cafe.

Jack sipped his coffee but the taste did not arouse him. Nothing did anymore. Not since he had seen her. The world had slipped into a lesser dimension since and only in his dreams, when he held he once again, did anything stir him.

Even that sun sitting within a cloudless sky seemed grey. For all he was aware it could have been a miserable November day.

He sipped again and breathed deeply.

His mind attempted to return to her but he struggled. The fog within his mind had thinned somewhat and was rolling like an early morning mist.

He breathed deeply again. Thinner and thinner, as though the sun was burning it off as he sat.

He stirred deep within himself.

Something was in the air. Something was dogging his mind and awakening his senses.

He breathed again.

There was a scent, a richly sweet scent that the air carried to him.

“How strange”, he thought to himself as he sipped the coffee, his tastebud tingling.

The fog dissipated entirely. Calmness and peace lightly breezes over him.

He threw his eyes to the sky and squinted at the sun. It was certainly a good morning.

The smell strengthened around him and he sat contently within it.

His eyes fell across the road and amidst the purple spots that now marred his vision he saw the source of his peace; a flower shop with blooming pink roses littering its open windows.

He languidly finished his coffee, paid and sauntered across the road in his new reality.

The scent intensified as he approached and he smiled.

“Peony roses, sir”, the dumply lady in an apron said to him, her blue eyes beaming. “Tough as old boots, they are, can survive frost, flood and drought”.

Jack nodded and handed over the required amount, lifting the pot and plant and taking the scent home with him.

He found a home for the rose amongst the barren flower bed that rose up beyond his bedroom window and soon the rose was planted in her new home.

When Jack awoke in the mornings his mind was filled with her scent. As he looked out the window there she sat against a sky blue backdrop. Every moment of his life was now filled with the scent of the rose and the joy she brought with her

The scent spread itself across the house, into every nook and cranny. Nowhere was left untouched by her influence.

Everywhere except the back room.

 

Jack stood before the door. The key protruding from the lock. He waited.

A chill of fear ran through him, but for what reason he could not say.

He breathed deeply and once more the rose filled him, every inch of him and his fear was quelled.

The door swung noiselessly once again and the shadows bid their retreat.

Jack walked to the brown table and looked down.

There she sat.

No dust touched her, no mark spoiled her, yet she sat changed.

Her red glow was dimmed to a rustic brown.

Her skin showed cracks and flaws he had not seen before.

The dim no longer retreated from her.

There she sat, cold and lifeless.

“Very nice”, said the lady who had entered behind him.

She paid her money, lifted the vase and left the house.

Jack stood by the table and breathed deeply once again. The scent of joy all around him.

Grilled Mexican Chicken Sandwiches

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2b038456b2b32b11b5f5fbbc2f090706

Yield: 4 open-faced sandwiches

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons chili powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne (optional)
  • 4 boneless chicken breasts
  • 1 1/2 cups Mexican cheese blend
  • 1/3 cup mayonnaise
  • 4 slices sourdough bread
  • 1/2 cup chunky salsa

Instructions

  1. In a small bowl, combine oil, garlic, chili powder, and cayenne. Using a rubber spatula, spread mixture over both sides of the chicken.
  2. Prepare grill. Grill chicken until juices run clear.
  3. Combine 1 cup of the cheese blend and the mayonnaise; mix well. Toast bread on edge of grill, turn. Spread toasted side of the bread evenly with cheese/mayonnaise mix. Grill, cheese side up, 2 more minutes or until cheese begins to melt.
  4. Place a piece of chicken on toasted cheese bread and top with salsa. Sprinkle with remaining cheese

A nice story about turtles

Once upon a time, in the murky swamps of the bayou, a group of turtles and alligators decided to have a race. The turtles, known for their slow and steady pace, had a clever idea: they would ride on the backs of the alligators to speed up the race. The alligators, proud of their strength and speed, agreed, thinking it would be a fun challenge.

The day of the race arrived, and the swamp was alive with excitement. The turtles climbed onto the backs of the alligators, each pair forming a team. The starting line was marked by a tall cypress tree, and the finish line was a shimmering lagoon on the other side of the swamp.

The race began with a loud splash. The alligators surged forward, their powerful tails propelling them through the water. The turtles, perched on their backs, held on tight, their little legs dangling as they cheered each other on.

The alligators were fast, but they were also competitive. Some of them tried to outmaneuver their opponents, weaving through the water and cutting corners. The turtles, however, had a different strategy. They noticed that the alligators were so focused on winning that they weren’t paying attention to the path ahead.

As the race progressed, the turtles spotted a hidden shortcut. It was a narrow channel that led directly to the lagoon, but it was tricky to navigate. The turtles whispered to their alligator partners, suggesting they take the shortcut. Most of the alligators ignored them, too confident in their own speed.

But one team, a wise old turtle named Shelldon and his alligator partner, Gator, listened. Shelldon had a reputation for being clever and resourceful. When he suggested the shortcut, Gator hesitated but decided to trust him.

As the other alligators continued on their straight path, Gator veered off into the narrow channel. The water was shallow, and the channel was filled with obstacles—branches, rocks, and even a few hungry-looking fish. But Shelldon guided Gator through it all, using his sharp eyes to spot the safest route.

Meanwhile, the other alligators were making good progress, but they were also getting tired. Their competitive nature had pushed them too hard, and they were starting to slow down.

When Gator and Shelldon emerged from the shortcut, they were ahead of the pack. The lagoon was in sight, and the finish line was just a few feet away. With a final burst of speed, Gator crossed the line, and Shelldon leaped off his back, landing triumphantly in the water.

The other alligators and turtles arrived shortly after, exhausted but impressed. They realized that Shelldon’s cleverness and Gator’s trust in him had won the race. The turtles celebrated their victory, and the alligators, though they had lost, couldn’t help but admire the unique way the turtles had outsmarted them.

From that day on, the turtles and alligators continued to race, but they always remembered the lesson they had learned: sometimes, the best way to win isn’t by being the fastest, but by being the smartest. And Shelldon, the clever old turtle, became a legend in the swamp, known for his ability to turn even the slowest pace into a winning strategy.

Genesis II (1973)

I’ve got a BIG (happy) surprise for you all. This is the full movie. It is a Science Fiction movie that was made for televisions, and that I haven’t seen since the mid-1970’s. I thought that it was lost for all eternity.

WARNING: the host of the YouTube Channel interrupts the movie from time to time with some cheesy narratives. Sorry. But, still the entire movie is presented here.

This script was written by Gene Roddenberry who was THE guy to started the Star Trek franchise, and stars the guy who starred in the Stanley Kubrick movie “A Space Odyssey”.

It takes place in a world that exists after world war 3.

And I have NEVER forgotten some of the scenes such as the “pleasure stems”, and the “NUKE BATT POW” and  “EMERG DECOM” scene.

A well forgotten classic and is a great lazy Saturday background watch. Have some fun you all. -MM

In a post-apocalyptic future, NASA scientist Dylan Hunt awakens from suspended animation into a world torn apart by a global conflict. 

As he navigates this desolate landscape, he encounters PAX, a society dedicated to preserving knowledge and rebuilding civilization. 

However, his ideals clash with the group's strict pacifist principles as he faces off against the powerful Tyranians. 

This 1973 science fiction film created by Gene Roddenberry explores themes of survival, morality, and the struggle to rebuild a fractured world.

Watch out for crutches

Untrue!
We have never seen China as a threat or rival.
Unlike Trump and his dumb as fuck cabinet.

The only Australians I have ever heard say a bad thing about China are those in regions where China has purchased large swaths of land.
They purchased a research farm near us, some people complained, but most of us understand the reason, as they want somewhere to teach their people our farming methods to improve farming in China, which is happening, so most of us see this as okay.

We all celebrate such things as the Chinese new year, and enjoy Chinese food and learning their cooking techniques to improve our own lives.

Chines tourism here is a massive industry and we enjoy their visits.
There is no animosity between Australians and Chinese, in fact many Australians have Chinese heritage and most of my best friends are Chinese who go back to China once or twice a year to be with family for important occasions.

I had fun trying to teach them to speak English properly, most have “L” in words sounding more like “R”, as “lolly” sounds like “rorry” but that was because they don’t lift their tongue when they pronounce the “L”s, once they master that, they talk like any other Australian.

So the majority of Australians are fond of China and are happy that Australia is deepening their trade ties to China.
Though when China put high tariffs on our lobsters, we got very cheap lobsters here, but the lobster industry suffered.
Now that such tariffs are to be removed, the price of lobsters here will rise, but the industry will flourish.
We must accept the bad with the good.

Ex Wife Caught Cheating at Bachelorette Party

Weird or Confusing

A website that showcases the weirdest and most confusing things found on the internet. It’s a treasure trove of oddities and curiosities.

Weird World

Here’s some of the content…

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Was Assad really a tyrant or is that just western propaganda?

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main qimg f9ab64369a53e21f39ae8af80822dbbf

He wore Savile Row Suits stupidly when People were starving, he drove luxury cars on Syrian streets with tons of bodyguards while the average Syrians had 8 hours power, his own family took treatment in Dubai & Riyadh while Syrians scrambled on the black market for basic antibiotics

His Soldiers were paid 18000 Syrian Pounds a month which came to around 360 American Dollars in 2006

By 2023 they were paid 300,000 Syrian Pounds a month, yet barely around 30 American Dollars

They paid 16 Syrian Pounds for a Liter of Gasoline in 2006

In 2023 they had to pay 13,000 Syrian Pounds for a Liter of Gas which means they could afford only 24 Litres of Gasoline on their monthly salaries

They paid 1500 Syrian Pounds for Pregnancy Hospitalization in 2006

Now the Private Hospital charges 2 Million Syrian Pounds and only accepts payments in Emirati Dirhams

The official rate is 3,520 Syrian Pounds for 1 Dirham but nobody gives you official rates

The Black market rate is 6,500 Syrian Pounds for 1 Dirham

A 10 Pound Bag of Rice in 2006 cost a mere 69 Syrian Pounds

Today it costs 46,000 Syrian Pounds in the Black market

A Leg of Mutton cost 270 Syrian Pounds in 2006

Today it’s almost 200,000 Syrian Pounds

Yet Assad and his select few – around 500–1000 people received their Mutton, Fine Pilaf Rice, Fresh Vegetables all air delivered to Damascus from other places

People were seething with anger and frustration

Drinking Water came Once in 14 days Or 21 days

Officers often got 50 Liters of water a day to their homes from their Bases where water was available in larger quantities

Otherwise you had 300 Liters of Water for 14 days Or 21 days

And not free!!!!!

You paid 10,000 Syrian Pounds for the Water

That’s 20 Liters of water or 1 Bucket of water a day

For Toilet, Cooking, Cleaning and Drinking

Assad had a Olympic Size Swimming Pool

He imported 60,000 Bottles of Evian Water for his own personal use every year

You expect Soldiers whose families live in this condition to be faithful to this regime?

Now I can’t confirm this but since it was a Syrian Soldier who came on George Galloway show – I will accept his word

The Syrians often wiped their behinds with Syrian Pound notes 😡😡😡 instead of water or toilet paper

Now China was supposed to change this after approving a $ 500 Million Swap facility which means handing Syria 500 Million Greenbacks and taking worthless Syrian Pounds into their Chinese Banks

However the Chinese sensed that this 500 Million would likely go into the pockets of a few generals , given their experience with Pakistan, so they dithered and dithered and didn’t come through

In fact I feel China felt all along Syria was on a downward spiral

It’s why they delayed the favorable status trade agreement for almost a year

So he wasn’t a Tyrant

He was terribly indifferent and was sleepwalking

Many of his Generals and Officers could easily be purchased for Dollars and Western Gifts

He himself could have done a lot of things, fought against corruption of his own officers and corps and his political lackeys

I feel he just finally felt tired of carrying his fathers legacy and just wanted to relax and get away from all the mess

When People protest in such conditions, of course police will be asked to beat them up and lock them up

Happens in India many times so imagine Syria where there is no letter of law !!!!!

Thats where Iran scores over Syria

Those Iranians live frugally, wear Islamic clothes, Maoist suits, Rugged Outfits and dont like Opulently

Plus they have a full plethora of goods from China that keeps them heavily plied with stuff

They have supermarkets chock full of Chinese & South Asian Food

Beef, Chicken, Basmati, Fruits from Pakistan and Afghanistan

Canned Seafood from China

Pilaf Rice from Afghanistan and Pakistan

Wheat from Russia for Bread

Cooking Oil from Russia

Affordable Clothing thanks to Bangladesh

So Iran is unlikely to fall like Syria

Unless China does a Volte Face

If Syria had decided the same thing a few years ago and opened their markets to China things may have been different

Yet I doubt China would have done much given that Iran gives precious Oil and Gas to China and Syria has nothing whatsoever

I work an excellent job, for a very large company. I’m well paid, and I have the ONLY health plan they allow me to have (a high-deductible, Health Savings Account supported plan from United Healthcare). I pay $5000 in premiums each year and my employer pays even more. My company forced me to switch to this plan from a lower deductible one several years ago – at a time when my wife and I were both over 50. So, while we max out our legal HSA contributions each year, we have never NOT spent all the money in our HSA account in any year. We’ve never had the chance that young people would have to build up actual SAVINGS in this account. And we’re not really unhealthy people. I take no regular medication at all. We’re just in our 50’s & 60’s.

I have a nephew, whose parents are dead, and who became chronically ill himself and could no longer work. He went on Medicaid. The program was made for people like him. I don’t resent it.

Last year, my nephew and I both went into the hospital for a week with (different) life threatening issues. When I – the one WITH an (American) corporate insurance plan – came out, I had almost $4000 in hospital & doctor bills above what my insurance covered. And I had to pay for several prescriptions for weeks after that. This more than emptied my HSA account.

When my nephew came out, he had more presriptions that I had and had spent as many days admitted as I did. But he was never shown a bill of ANY kind. His (also UHC) Medicaid Plan just covered it all. He just focused on feeling better.

So, I really have to ask this question: Why THE FUCK don’t we ALL want it to work that way?!!! That’s LITERALLY how it works in almost every civilized country EXCEPT the USA (the Unintelligent States of America). WTF is wrong with us?!!

Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits | Best Songs Collection

“Little Joe” Steak Sandwich

From Guadalajara comes this version of the steak sandwich known as “El Pepito” or “Little Joe.” Hot cooked steak, thinly sliced, is served on a crisp roll and spread with avocado sauce (guacamole) and refried beans. Chile or taco sauce takes the place of steak sauce.

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364094125cc499f9987cfd83d75066af

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 pound lean tender steak (sirloin New York cut about 1/4 inch thick, broiled or barbecued)
  • 4 crusty round or rectangular rolls
  • Refried beans with cheese
  • 1/4 cup guacamole
  • 4 thin slices mild sweet onion
  • Taco sauce

Instructions

  1. Trim fat from steak if desired and barbecue or pan fry.
  2. Split rolls and spread one side with 1 tablespoon of refried beans and the other side of the split roll with about 1 tablespoon of guacamole. Pile equal portions of steak on the bean side of each roll. Put onion slice on the guacamole side.
  3. Serve the sandwiches open so that sauce can be added according to taste before they are closed.
  4. Sandwiches can be eaten out of hand or with knife and fork.

God

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Futurama Delivery

This story contains themes or mentions of mental health issues.

Dear God,Oh, please don’t do it.Please forgive this ungrateful sheep for abandoning the Holy Shepherd in a prosperous and bountiful time. You harvested my filthy wool, shearing it from my oozing-pus-filled skin marred by my temporal infirmities; you transformed me into a resurrected fleece of harlequin nature. I swear to you that I haven’t abandoned you out of sheer lack of faith; I even want to be wrapped in your gracious grace again, with your light penetrating the void and casting a divine glow that speckles across in glory.An earthly family matter has taken up my time; however, I sway to your great tune, and my free will is gifted towards you. I know that’s no excuse for my lapse in prayer. I also know that you have seen the core of my rotting corpse. You have ignited a blazing fire that scorched away my char-infested delusions.A golden service yesterday moved me beyond belief. There was a profound guest speaker: Elbert Spriggs. Spriggs talked about the recent inaction of Church leaders as a blight ravaging society. My Lord, his sermon filled the congregation with the warmth of your glory. Crush and destroy the nonbelievers; break and remold them in your glory. He spoke in the most holy of tongues with his honey-encrusted words.Our world is ruled by the filth-coated tongues of the unbelievers, whose words emanate from their hollow, psychopathic souls with such precision that even the Holy is damned. The call to action flooded us with light and love, which was enough to inspire us to reach out to our fellow man. We must carry your message like rats to a plague, good sir.For many years, I was a lost lamb with no flock. My world abandoned me, even the heavens, but your gracious eternal flame relit my dying-extinguished flame in this accursed world. You’re the vine from the Tree of Life.You have healed me, so I am eternally grateful for all of your charitable deeds. 

Oh, Lord, you’re oddly like a yellow deli: you offer the most sumptuous treats in the form of human compassion. You brought me a golden throne adorned with thorns, crowned by your transcendence, instead of me finding you in some sick advertisement. You must have seen that I was at my wit’s end; my path disappeared before me into a dark, sunless abyss, wrecked by a warped mentality of survival. I was so lost, only surviving for myself alone.

 

Based on the skeletons of the unbelievers, you could have let me rot on the marred ground. Instead, you allowed me to live in the glory of your presence. This world of isolation, with screens and blinking monitors, screams their disillusioned division.

 

My eternal gratitude knows no bounds.

 

You’re the King and my Rock.

 

People really don’t understand who God is. Their sickly delusions amaze even me! In the Bible, Acts 17:24 proclaims that “The God who made the world and all things in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands;” and yet human beings indulge themselves in the worship of statues, drinking from their own human-carved and gold-trimmed chalices, glance at corroded cruets on Peliculas, and get into a trance by peering into the monstrance. You must pasteurize the sin from their hearts!

 

However, a new version of God is not found within some Churches but within the stained, bloody hearts of men. Unless humanity comes to its senses, you will macerate them in another Noah flood of unprecedented proportions.

 

He is found within nature’s corridors; He is not some foreign object who glances at humanity from above—He’s here right now. And I will beat my ilk with rods until they know that, oh dear Lord!

 

Perhaps, the Bible is enough for people to foolishly put their faith in a clouded book with folk tales, stories, legends, and, at their most, third-hand accounts. Despite their arguments to the contrary, Satanists are not unrelated. Both seem content to worship deities from the sidelines and trust these unseen entities will take care of them.

 

I laughed at them.

 

I know who God is. Seeing God walk among us and be truly magnificent, I know this.

You made me yours the moment you came to me. As I slowly bled out from being shot in my own backyard while no one was concerned about my condition, I found myself lying face down with the cold rain pouring down on me. Although I was aware that my end was near, I am ashamed to admit that a part of me was hoping it would happen sooner rather than later. In a sense, I was suicidal, oh Lord.

 

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Under a pitch-black sky filled with infinite stars, I was no longer lying on pavement but on a grassy field. I no longer felt pain or bleeding. As I looked around, I felt at peace. The grassy field seemed endless. My eyes were drawn to a colossal bonfire, which was at least ten stories high and as wide as your grand ventures. The flames licked at charcoal-black wood. I was blasted by the fire’s heat. Until then, I had never experienced such scorching temperatures.

 

It was at that moment, God, that you came into view. It would be a mistake to call it walking. Every step was intentional and powerful. Instead, it felt like a storm was rolling in. Please accept my apology. Alas, language limits my ability to describe you.

Now, I looked up at you, towering above me. You were significantly larger than me. You wove the infinite tapestry of existence, and I was only a thread.

 

God’s sight is beyond the capacity of the human mind. While I was able to process certain aspects of you, I couldn’t process every nuance and detail. But I saw that a flicker of fire replaced the points of your mighty antlers, which extended from your inconceivable faces. The skin on your face shifted and constantly changed like onyx.

You looked at everything in your kingdom with your three faces, toward me and through me. The seven legs of your body dig into the soil like pillars of a temple.

 

My knees buckled before you. You were all I had. I was shocked to see you reach down and pull me back up. Looking directly into my eyes, it was like you saw every little thing about me. You saw through me like the sunlight entering into the glass.

 

Thank you for considering me worthy! Without you saying a word, I would be walking with you forever. My eyes filled with tears of joy as I accepted my place at your feet. I will now wash and clean your feet for all of eternity, my Lord. I mean that.

 

My head was baptized by your majestic hands before the raging bonfire with blood so hot it boiled. The words of your scriptures were scorched and burned into my soul as they poured down upon me. I feel and know every syllable of your decrees at all times, unlike lesser religions that rely on the written word to spread their messages.

 

God truly is within me.

 

Upon seeing your glory again, I knew I was now a part of the one true faith. He does not look down from a cloud in the sky or up from a dank pit at His people. No, my God walks among us, eliminating the weak and creating the strong.

 

Blood and fire are His judgments.

 

He will crush those who refuse to heed His words in the dirt before Him and consume them in His many jaws. Do not be fooled: forgiveness is reserved for the Holy.

My goal has been to spread your message since that moment when I was reborn. You saw that I was well-suited to this task because of your infinite wisdom. My ability to convey my words isn’t as good as Spriggs’, but I can bring your message to nonbelievers.

 

An affluent family in Colorado asked me to share their will according to your scriptures last night. My mission was to bring them together in the largest room on the first floor of their house in the middle of the night. I baptized them one by one, burning your mark into their foreheads as you had once done for me.

 

Then I poured their blood into their mouths in holy communion. The flames of the massive bonfire were brought to the house to cleanse it with fire, with the souls of those who had passed to your eternal embrace.

 

I hope you’ve accepted the many offerings I sent you before these, as well as these small ones. Throughout my life, I will continue to follow your words and ways.

 

Forever and ever, I am yours, oh Lord.

 

Amen.

Short answer: Google quitted.

According to google, they left mainland China because what Chinese government asked them to do was a violation of their motto, which is “Don’t be evil”.

Since what the Chinese government asked them to support identifying possible terror threat and block contents which are illegal in China, I suppose that they won’t do such thing in other countries as well.

But sadly enough, I read a news after they quitted about Google India provide related info to the local police which led to a young man being arrested. The cause of the arresting was that this young man said something close to “Sonia Gandhi go to hell” online.

It was about 8 years ago, so I cannot guarantee the 100% accuracy about what happened. But I was arguing online with pro-google people, and I saw someone mentioned such incident. I didn’t take the words from another online user as granted, but decided to search online to find some solid support. With no google and VPN at the time, it took me quite a long time to find a piece of news saying it was true.

So Google refuse to monitor the key words in Email, but accept providing personal info to arrest a kind of innocent man?


As for YouTube, it belongs to Google, isn’t it?

When I got my stable VPN and logged in to YouTube for the first time (because I wasn’t a online video fan when I was in Swiss), once YouTube noticed me being a Chinese, it kept pushing those videos which suppose to “expose the evil side of China”.

I can still recall a guy called Winston Serpentza, who lives in Shenzhen but cannot stop trashing China for even a day. I searched online about his background. It turns out that he is an illegal English teacher who has no certification whatsoever. He had a bad life in South Africa, and tried to make some easy money in China. But his teaching carrier was not so good as well, so he chose to do trashing videos to fulfill the anti-China/Communist/Orient demands.

I remembered pressing not interested bottom for at least 20 times, but YouTube still pushing his videos to me, along with quite a lot videos which are obviously fake to me.


In addition, let’s briefly talk about Facebook, which is also banned in China.

People do have freedom on Facebook, as long as you don’t support evil communist China. Regarding on the same topic, anti-China posts got survived, but not pro-China ones.

I read some of the pro-China posts, and didn’t find any aggressive words or emotions. So no one knows why exactly they got banned by Facebook.


Some off centered thoughts:

I think that the weird attitude towards China is quite cold war style. Take the recent death sentence of a Canadian drug smuggler as an example:

  • PM of Canada accuse China being unfair and arbitrary.
  • Acting foreign minister of AU said that Schellenberg’s case is not suitable for death penalty.

OK then, So:

  • a drug smuggler who tried to bring 220KG of methamphetamine from China to Australia shouldn’t be punished by death penalty
  • and Chinese law shouldn’t be respected when the crime was caught in China.

What should China do then? Release Schellenberg and send him to AU to complete his job? Would AU government be happy to receive 220KG of crystal?

And should CA government legalize methamphetamine, if they think that smuggling 220KG of it is OK?

In Chinese laws, illegal drug trading must face criminal penalty, 5 situations could cause death sentence:

  1. Trading more than 1KG of opium, more than 50 grams of heroin/meth, or significant amount of other type of drugs
  2. Being major member of a cartel
  3. Smuggling drugs with armed guard
  4. Resisting inspection, detention, arresting with severe violence
  5. Participating in a organized international drug smuggling

By all the standard, this dude is dead. He received 15 years in jail in his first trial because of some missing evident which could identify him as a cartel member, so the judge gave a chance to the “innocent person who just did a favor to a friend”.

I DON”T believe that there is NO political issue involved in this sentence. But Chinese government couldn’t planned this, since it was Schellenberg himself filled an appeal which led to the second trail of death sentence, and 220KG meth is more than enough to get death penalty in China.


I mentioned the Schellenberg case is to show you some live case about how “unbias” the western government can be, and how much they care about the justice and law.

So when Google said that they quitted China because of “Don’t be evil”, I don’t believe them.

I read a news in about 2009 (or 2008) saying the Secretary of State at the time Hillary Clinton hosted a dinner with the chief of 4 companies, and praise them as the frontline of promoting US values (again, I cannot recall the exact words). I remember Facebook and Google were invited.

China PULLS The Trigger – U.S. Trade War Just Got FLIPPED (Enough is Enough!)

Crunchy loaf musings of Springtime Van Life

Not legally, not practically not possible! People use the dollar for only one reason and one reason only! That is they can earn higher earnings on their savings if the can get higher interest but keep its purchasing power! The US dollar cannot do that and worst they fear the US can steal it away anytime it like how it stole the Russian US dollar reserves!

Trump can scream rant and rave in a tantrum but it cannot do anything about it! First it won’t know and it cannot touch their monies nor can they know who buys what? when?, where? who? How much? Which currency it pays of don’t pay! What can the US do? Start world war 3 that the US will lose?

Do you think that Americans would take the jobs left vacant if all illegal immigrants were to return to their countries?

The thing that irks me about the conversation around immigration is the part where some people legitimately believe that “Americans are too lazy to do hard manual labor.”

What an insult to blue collar Americans. What an insult to American farmers.

Let’s remember that 32% of farm laborers are born in the US.[1]
The Midwest has the highest share of US-born farm workers.

Americans still pick fruit, despite the pro-immigrant propaganda that says otherwise.

Here are other dangerous, hard jobs that Americans do:

Construction
Roofing
Logging
Commercial fishing
Steel welding
Oil rig work
Plumbing
Car and airplane manufacturing
Trucking
Firemen

Americans work 12+ hour shifts. And get their hands dirty. In all manner of industries.

What they WON’T generally do is work those jobs for $7.25 per hour.

Remember that little thing in history called the labor movement? Unions exist to help laborers get:

Higher pay
Safer working conditions
Reasonable hours
Protection from harassment and abuse

The labor union movement was so successful that most of these things were enshrined in law. They’re called “worker rights”.

There’s a reason (most) everyone is entitled to an 8-hour workday, holidays off, a minimum wage, etc.

You know who doesn’t like those things?

Abusive employers.

Americans know that they don’t have to do hard jobs for low pay and bad working conditions. They have options.

American employers know that too.

And that’s why they hire illegal immigrants.

Illegal immigration has ALWAYS been about the pay. They pay foreign, under-the-table workers much less.

And treat them horribly. They work longer hours with less or no benefits and worse working conditions.

So yes, if illegal immigrants weren’t around, American employers would have to hire locally.

They would have to compete in pay and benefits and make the job desirable. Just like every industry does!

While we’re on that subject, the farm industry also gets tons of subsidies from the government. The sugar industry is the worse.

So they need money from the government and cheap foreign labor to compete?

I say cut the subsidies and cut the illegal behavior. They should have to compete with the same legal constraints most industries have.

What happens when you pay government officials to get a sweet deal others don’t get?

It’s called “corruption”.

Big corporate farms should have to compete like the rest of us.

Southern Shrimp Sandwich

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8e074317ca8d697631c239035a08c85a

Yield: 6 marvelous sandwiches

Ingredients

  • 3/4 pound (340 grams) cooked shrimp, coarsely chopped
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped green pepper (capsicum)
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped celery
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped cucumber
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) diced tomatoes
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) finely chopped scallion, green and white parts
  • 1/4 cup (60 ml) mayonnaise
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
  • Hot sauce to taste (optional)
  • 6 hot dog buns
  • 2 tablespoons (30 ml) butter
  • 1 cup (250 ml) shredded lettuce

Instructions

  1. Combine shrimp, vegetables, mayonnaise, salt, pepper and hot sauce (if desired) in a bowl and toss to combine thoroughly.
  2. Spread the buns with butter and divide the lettuce among them.
  3. Top with the shrimp mixture.

What a mafia. Openly threaten BRICS to stay in the US club to continue to use USD in trading.

Not many, if none at all, can pay 100% tariff. They may bargain with Trump 2.0. For instance, they may continue to use USD for some trading, while using other currencies for other trading. In fact, this is exactly what is happening now before BRICS system is mature.

Or they just stop export to USA.

Or, if their economy is strong enough, fight back with something similar to tariffs but with different name. Like China is doing.

Each country must evaluate their situation before going to the bargaining table with mafia USA.

But remember: you bow down to the mafia once, the mafia will come back to you again & again. A mafia is a mafia. Capitalist sharks will suck dry of all your blood.

To USA

In Trump 1.0, in the case with China with 25% tariff, it was Americans who paid 90% of tariff. Chinese sellers only paid 10%.

As a result, Americans saw stubborn inflation that FED must violently increase interest rate many times. Then small banks & business went bankrupt & closed shop.

There are 9 members & 13 partners in 2024 BRICS. 100% on BRICS countries that incl China??? Together with 25% on Canada & Mexico, US inflation may go sky high. More middle-class Americans may become poor.

Trump 2.0 guarantees to cut lots of public servants, social services etc, so as to bring down expenses. Lots of people will become poor.

Ironically, poverty will bring down inflation. Nobody has money to spend any more.

Back to the question

Threat wont work in a long run. It only pushes BRICS to speed up the completion of the BRICS system.

USA has forgotten: it was US militarising USD & SWIFT that pushes other countries to find a new system.

It is karma. It will backfire USA at the end.

Can BYD be considered China’s version of Tesla? How does their approach compare to Tesla’s in the United States and have they achieved similar levels of success?

I bought a BYD for my parents.

I don’t like it.

The car was a 2022 or 2023 BYD Han DMi.

BYD, in my opinion, feels more like a Toyota wanna-be made by engineering nerd.

Prior to the Yangwang and Denza sub-brands, BYD felt more like about family affordability and being just good enough.

The insides of the Han resemble the artistic appreciation of a Chinese red-neck, with stitches on faux-leather here and there.

The side air-vents are shiny chrome and would cause reflection in the side windows that interfere with the view of the rear mirrors, and roof fabric is dark and depressing. The shiny co-pilot side dashboard also relects sunlight onto the windshield.

The start-up and power off ambient music is straight out of the 90s.

The rear suspension feels a little rough and is supported by thin individual poles that look like they may break at the slightest abuse.

The turning radius of the car is the size of Jupiter. For any u-turn on a road with less than 3 lanes, I had to do a reverse.

But,

The car is affordable, drives smooth, has huge leg room in the back, and the 110km pure EV range of the plug-in power train meant that most of the time my parents were driving it in the city like a pure EV, and in that, it’s an ICE sedan capable of cross-country journey but uniquely preserving the goodies of an EV: the acceleration and low fuel consumption.

And being a BYD, the maintainance should be quite a bit cheaper than a Toyota.

It’s just nothing inspiring, there’s no pleasure in driving it. And it feels like a car designed by someone who doesn’t really have too much experience with cars, or the kind of problem with reflection in the rear-view mirror and windshield shouldn’t have made it into production model.

If it were my decision, I would have gone with the similarly priced Volkswagen ID6. The suspension was immensely better, the turning radius smaller, and there’s the added benefit of the 3rd row. But my parents, as long time ICE car drivers, were skeptical of pure EV, as they were probably making a cross country trip, once per year. It made no sense to me, but it’s their car…

The Chinese company that’s more similar to Tesla maybe XPeng, which basically started as a Tesla copycat. Some of their cars are the best looking Chinese EVs out there, and they basically copy everything Tesla does, tech wise.

Then there’s Xiaomi, which is also very similar to Tesla, being a phone company by default, Xiaomi places more emphasis on affordability or high price/quality ratio.

I visited their headquarters in Beijing, and while their cars look nice, feels nice on the inside, and are probably one of the hottest offerings right now, I would hold off buying them until a couple of iterations later. As I saw that the SU7 hides its air suspension tank inside its rear bumper, a design that should make repairs more costly. And let’s say its placement of the heat radiator is also a bit dubious. It gave me the feeling that it’s made by a bunch of tech nerds trying to be smart, without fully understanding the reason for the design and placement of parts in traditional cars.

The Chinese EV brand I would personally buy from is Zeekr, and by extension Polestar and Lynk & Co. Their parent company of Geely has had quite some experience making ICE cars and they seem to have absorbed Volvo’s tech and DNA quite well post-acquisition, as well as other brands they acquired like Lotus. Their EVs are made to be fun, unique, and engaging. The suspension on the 001 was particularly good when I test drove a bunch of EV in 2022 to help decide the car for my parents, and the giant 2 meter wide and heavy as a truck wagon EV felt really light on its feet. They say the Lotus team designed the suspension of the 001, which would explain a lot.

The goofy 007’s LED headband that can display texts and loudspeaker that can shout insults to passerbys also make the car very engaging, cheerful and unique.

And the Lynk & Co Z10 must be one of the best traditional sedan-looking EV out there, with quality guarantee of a carmaker with experience.

Richard Wolff: Trump’s tariffs will make inflation EXPLODE

Very good.

Now That Warheads Are Raining Down, Does Anyone Still Think The Russians Are “Bluffing”?

This didn’t have to happen.  Years of catastrophically bad decisions by the western elite have brought us to the brink of nuclear war.  For more than two years, our leaders have assured us that the Russians were bluffing and that they would never actually risk nuclear war.  But now that Russian warheads are raining from the sky, is there anyone out there that still believes such nonsense?

Last night, the Russians sent a very clear message to the entire world by pummeling Ukraine’s fourth-largest city of Dnipro with warheads from a ballistic missile

Kyiv Air Force said today that Russia had launched an ICBM at the city of Dnipro in the early hours of the morning.

If firmed up, it marks the first time the nuclear-capable missile has ever been used as part of an ongoing conflict.

Unverified footage appeared to show warheads from the ferocious R-26 Rubezh raining down on Dnipro overnight, lighting up the sky with explosions.

In a video that I just posted on my YouTube channel, I shared footage of these warheads raining down on the city…

 

 

Originally, it was being reported that these warheads came from an intercontinental ballistic missile, and UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer called this “reckless and escalatory behaviour”

And UK PM Keir Starmer blasted depot Putin for his “reckless and escalatory behaviour” after the suspected ICBM strike.

He warned that such a move would take the war to another level, calling claims of their use “deeply concerning”.

But shortly thereafter U.S. officials determined that it was a new intermediate-range ballistic missile and not an intercontinental ballistic missile…

Ukraine’s earlier claim that its territory had been struck by an intercontinental ballistic missile fired by Russia is being hotly disputed, hours after widespread reports first appeared. US officials are saying it appears to be a new intermediate-range ballistic missile and not an ICBM which targeted the central city of Dnipro

The NY Times has reported in follow-up of the attack that “several Western officials said that the weapon was not an ICBM and instead was likely an intermediate-range missile that flies shorter distances.”

Zelensky himself had claimed Russia used a new class of missile. “All the parameters — speed, altitude — match those of an intercontinental ballistic missile,” he said. “All expert evaluations are underway.”

During a surprise television address to his nation, Vladimir Putin confirmed that it was a new hypersonic ballistic missile that they have been working on…

According to Putin, Russia retaliated on Nov. 21 with a combined strike against a Ukrainian defense industry facility. In addition, “a field test was conducted in combat conditions” for one of Russia’s newest medium-range weapon systems: a nuclear-free hypersonic ballistic missile. “Our engineers named it ‘Oreshnik’ [‘Hazel’],” Putin declared with a smile.

Putin said Russia is within its rights to use ballistic missiles against “Ukraine’s military targets” and to use weapons against military facilities of those countries that have authorized the use of their weapons against Russia.

Of course the range of this particular missile is not really important.

What is important is the message that the Russians are sending.

They are clearly trying to warn us that next time it could be nuclear warheads that are raining down.

I guess they figured that their words weren’t getting through to our leaders, and so they better do something so over the top that nobody could misinterpret it.

Putin also warned that the Russians are “entitled” to hit the military targets of any nations that are supplying long-range missiles to Ukraine…

Putin also warned Russia was “entitled” to strike military targets of countries whose weapons are used by Ukraine to strike Russian territory in a thinly-veiled threat to the US and Britain.

Ukraine used British-supplied Storm Shadow missiles to strike inside Russia for the first time, a day after using US-made ATACMs to hit a military facility in Bryansk.

“In the event of an escalation of aggressive actions, we will respond just as decisively,” Putin added.

Do you understand what he is telling us?

He is trying to get us to understand that if Ukraine keeps firing long-range missiles into Russia, they could strike U.S. military targets.

In fact, the Russians have already publicly identified a new U.S. base in Poland as a potential target…

Russia has threatened to attack a new US defense base in Poland with “advanced weapons” — just hours after reportedly launching an intercontinental ballistic missile at Ukraine on Thursday.

Moscow leveled the warning after saying the opening of the ballistic missile defense base, located in the town of Redzikowo near the Baltic coast, would lead to an increase in overall nuclear danger.

“Given the nature and level of threats posed by such Western military facilities, the missile defense base in Poland has long been added to the list of priority targets for potential destruction, which, if necessary, can be executed with a wide range of advanced weapons,” Russian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maria Zakharova said.

This is serious.

Sadly, most Americans have absolutely no idea that we are literally on the verge of all-out war with Russia.

The Russians have also declared that the UK is now “directly involved” in the war in Ukraine…

Britain is now “directly involved” in the Ukraine war after its Storm Shadow missiles were used to strike targets inside Russia, according to Moscow’s ambassador.

Speaking to Sky News’ Mark Austin, ambassador to the UK Andrei Kelin also said Ukraine was using “plenty of mercenaries from different countries” in the war.

Here in the western world, we have convinced ourselves that we are not at war with Russia.

But the Russians see things very differently.

The good news is that the Russians see Donald Trump as the last best hope to avoid the sort of all-out war that I have been warning about for years.

So we have a window of opportunity right now.

If we can just get to January 20th, the Russians are very eager to talk to Trump in order to see if something can be worked out.

But if they ultimately determine that they can’t work out something with Trump, all bets are off.

Let us pray that a peace agreement can eventually be reached, because if a full-blown nuclear war erupts most of the U.S. population will die.

 

 

Forward Thinking

Submitted into Contest #62 in response to: Write about a character preparing to go into stasis for decades (or centuries). view prompt

Vicky S

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.They paused as their owner peered into a room.The door creaked slightly as they shut the door behind.Stephanie could hear them as they searched for her, moving files and shifting furniture.As if they thought she was hiding behind a desk.She glanced around.It was an ordinary office.Nowhere to hide.They’d find her quickly.She felt a violent shiver go through her body.She couldn’t let them find her.She had to hide.The footsteps were getting louder.Maybe the person was in the room next door.Ignoring the nausea and hoping they couldn’t hear her heart beat, Stephanie opened the door to the office.Her hands were shaking as she peered into the hallway.There were only shadows.Shadows she could live with.It was the people that were attached that she found so difficult.Swiftly she ran to the next door on her tip toes, hoping her shoes wouldn’t squeak.It was locked.Swearing inside her head, she moved to the next door.

It was locked.

She could hear the other person.

It was a good thing they were making so much noise.

They’d be in the hallway any moment.

They’d see her, standing with the shadows.

They’d find it on her.

“Pull yourself together’ she muttered,’ they haven’t found you yet”.

As quickly as she could, she tried the next door.

A metal staircase stood behind, it’s silver railings tarnished.

Softly she closed the door, holding her breath.

They’d soon find her anyway.

It’s not like there were a lot of doors.

Her feet clunked on each step despite the tip toes.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no”, she whispered.

She could almost sense them as they heard.

She could feel it in her pocket, it’s weight bouncing against her leg.

She touched it gingerly.

It’s surface was still smooth and cool.

Maybe she could hide it? And then return for it later?

No, she shook her head, they’d find it.

The hallway on the next floor looked identical.

Except there were more shadows.

They seemed to chase her as she ran.

She could hear footsteps on the staircase.

They were still coming.

Each of the doors was locked.

Her breath was coming fast.

Her chest felt tight.

Bending over, Stephanie paused over a moment, her hands resting on her knees.

Her breath ragged.

Even if they appeared in the hallway, she didn’t think she’d be able to move.

The locked door she’d just tried creaked as it opened.

Stephanie stopped breathing as she stared at it.

It had been locked only moments before.

Or maybe it hadn’t been? Maybe she’d just been panicking.

She heard a man shout as they reached the top of the stair case.

They knew where she was.

She had no choice.

Stephanie threw herself at the door and slammed it behind her.

It’s sound echoed.

The room inside was dark. Only a sliver of light from the gap in the curtains shone through.

Stephanie tried to slow her breathing as she sank onto the floor.

She didn’t notice the cold and her breath that was now appearing in clouds in front of her.

The footsteps were coming closer, running down the hallway towards her.

The man on the other side tried the handle but it was locked again.

He twisted and pulled.

It wouldn’t move.

Stephanie felt tears run down her face.

They were going to get her.

The man shouted for his companion.

She could hear him running to join.

They both pushed at the door.

It still remained locked.

“We know you’re there’, one of them whispered, sending shivers running up and down her spine,’ and we will get to you”.

Their footsteps moved away.

They were trying to find something, anything, to break down the door.

What was she going to do?

It was still in her pocket.

Even if they found her, they couldn’t find it.

They’d know it was her.

Slowly, her legs shaking, she moved around the room, opening the curtains so the light of the moon could shine through.

It looked like a store room.

Shelves of boxes and files and strange, cylindrical pods lined against the walls.

Almost large enough for her to hide in.

A large box fell from a shelf, dust flying in the air as it landed with a thud.

“Who’s there?”, she gasped, her eyes wide.

There was no answer.

The door banged as the two men threw their weight against it along with whatever it was that they’d found.

They’d be inside soon.

She had no choice.

She looked at the cylindrical pods.

They were all closed. Sealed.

Faces looked back at her. One in each pod. Lifeless, their eyes closed.

“What the…’ she started to say but couldn’t think of how to finish.

Why were there faces staring at her?

“Hey, we’ll be there in a minute little girl. Don’t run away. It will be over soon”.

His voice was so soft, it was creepy.

The last pod made a clicking sound and then, as she stared, it opened.

The same as the door.

A cloud of white drifted out.

It smelt like disinfectant.

She could almost sense something push her towards it, as if there was a hand in the small of her back.

She could feel her legs march towards it but she had no control over them.

Something else was in charge.

The pod was clean and lined. It’s surface just as smooth as the object’s.

It felt soft as she lay back against it.

The door crashed open and two men stumbled in, their hair disheveled and their eyes glowing.

The pod started to close.

“Hey, there she is!”, one of them yelled as he glanced at her.

The pod closed with a click.

Stephanie watched their faces as she started to freeze, their eyes narrowed and glowing dark red.

The same as the one who now lay dead.

Her fingers clutched the handle of the blade still in her pocket.

The blood on the tip now dried.

These demons could wait a century or two.

 

Am I…? (Part 3)

Submitted into Contest #62 in response to: Write about a character preparing to go into stasis for decades (or centuries). view prompt

Authoring Studio

Hell is truly a good place. Take it from a person who has been there for twelve decades.Hey again- this is Iris. Iris Jones- the werewolf. I am rather tamed now, actually. The devil who took me away was rather kind. What was his name again…? Ah, yes- James. We had to first go and meet his friend, the angel. Benjamin.“Hey, Ben!” James called out as soon as we reached his doorstep on earth. A clearly sleepy and irritated person answered the door. “What is it this time, James? I swear, if it is another of your pranks, I’m gonna turn you into a toad or- OH.”He had finally noticed me.“So you brought a guest. Very well,” he said, turning around. His wings sprouted instantly from his back and he started walking (and floating) more comfortably. I was rather amused, you know. An angel and a devil- friends – who knew? They seemed to know each other since forever. James hugged his friend. “This is the guy I was talking about- Benjamin. Ben, this is Iris Jones, and she is a werewolf.”Ben shrugged his friend away while serving me tea and looked directly into my eyes. “I see it,” he sighed, rubbing his temple. “You have been subject to excessively severe experimentation. No wonder you go crazy like that,” he remarked. I nodded sagely. “I wouldn’t exactly call my life perfect,” I added. “Being the daughter of a chief and all, people would think I was some spoiled princess.”“You’re adopted,” James closed his eyes. I sat up straighter. “You know, I’d enjoy this conversation better if both of you stopped reading my mind and asked me direct questions,” I snapped. Even Ben had noticed my eyes slowly starting to change color.“Alright, we get it,” he calmed me down. “But we want the whole truth.”“You got it,” I replied determinedly.It all felt awkward. It did not feel like an interview, as I was expecting it to be. I had told and retold my story in so many forms to so many people and creatures, but there never had been one satisfactory outcome. But with the two of these, everything felt fine. It was like I was home.I watched on as minor earthquakes occurred between them, bets came and went within seconds, furniture flew across the house, and yet- they always laughed. No wonder it was so lively here.After I finished my entire story, Ben fell deep into thought, staring at the ceiling. James threw an arm around my shoulder. “Let the old fossil do his bit of thinking,” he said, a warm, pleasant and hearty laugh rumbling from his throat. “I’ve got something more interesting to show you.”I nodded and got up. The angel didn’t protest. We made a beeline for the kitchen, and James started rolling up his sleeves. “I expect you must have got minimal training in martial arts?” he inquired expectantly. I nodded, curious of what he was about to do.“Well, I’m making pie for all of us, and I feel like the décor on it needs to be accomplished by a bit of skillful fisting and cutting,” he smirked. I looked nonplussed. He was talking in all seriousness. “You’re… not joking,” I said weakly, and burst out laughing. He smiled too, and he turned around to let his wings cover me. “There you go,” he said gently. “You were looking a bit shaken back there. I’m glad you smiled.”I looked up. He had done all of this for me. “I… thanks, James,” I responded, nearly choking over my own words. How much had I mistaken about devils?I turned towards the pie in preparation. “Let’s get this all beat and cut up. I really want to try it, now that you have mentioned it.”He nodded and stepped back, and I quickly and quietly did my job.“You finally found a candidate for the pie, huh?” Ben said, appearing from behind us. “I have reached a conclusion.”Both of us twirled around. “What is it?” we asked in unison. Ben hung his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in stasis for a long time, Miss Jones. You’re not even pure werewolf.”I was shocked to stillness. “Wh-what do you mean by that?” I asked, a nervous tinge to my voice. He called me closer. “You weren’t even human before. Your creation was purely artificial. Can’t you see that? You are composed purely of moonbeams of the full moon.”I lost my composure. “WHY ON EARTH DO I HAVE TO GET NEWS LIKE THIS EVERY TIME I TRY TO STAY CALM?” I roared, clearly losing my head. James looked worried. “Ben- why did you-” he began, but I cut him off with a howl. However, it didn’t seem like Ben was going to stand any of this kind of nonsense. He snapped his fingers and my limbs were instantly immobile. I struggled and gasped within the firm, invisible hold.“You better be happy I did not have your soul sucked out. According to Heaven and Hell, you are an abnormality in the system, and you ought to be eliminated immediately. Do you not see what we are trying to do?”I closed my eyes again. “Okay, fine,” I exhaled, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed considerably. Ben started pacing around. “I know it will be difficult, but James will sneak you into Hell. I will have to freeze you, your functions and your mind. Hell has a convenient atmosphere to hold you for decades without being discovered.”

“I see,” I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. Ben smiled. “It’s fine, you idiot. It will be slightly painful, but then you won’t know it once you fall asleep. It will be like a good, long slumber. And James will be watching over you.”

I looked up. “Why am I being held like this, though? I mean, why don’t you kill me or… let me live a natural course of life in prison?”

James chuckled. “If you haven’t figured it out, we’re a bit different from our fellow angels and devils. We do things differently. We found out that you have a good heart, and it might help you become a true organism with the help of stasis for at least… let’s see… twelve decades.”

My eyes went round and wide. “Will you guys also live that long?” I asked. Both of them shared a look. I must have stumbled onto an inside joke. “We have to, otherwise the others will be short of workers,” James explained, reverting to straight-faced devil mode. “After you come out from stasis, it will be easier for us to turn you back into a human.”

I could not believe my ears. I was being offered a chance. “I’ll take it,” I gulped. “I will go into… whatever-that-word-is, if it means that I will be able to become angry without being afraid first.”

Both of them smiled warmly at me and James closed my eyes. “Sleep, and we will take care of the rest,” he murmured soothingly into my ear. I nodded trustingly.

They were the first real friends I had made.

Such a country does exist! It’s called China.

Already, China is more powerful and advanced than USA…

  • China has the world’s largest economy by PPP. PPP is a better metric of economic strength and vitality than nominal GDP.
  • China is the world’s sole industrial superpower. USA doesn’t even come close!
  • China is the world’s technological leader. According to ASPI, China leads in 57 out of 64 critical technology fields. According to WIPO, China is granted more patents than USA and Japan combined!
  • China has the world’s largest army and the world’s largest navy. China’s shipbuilding capacity is more than 200 times greater than that of USA! The Type 055 heavy cruiser is widely recognized as the world’s most powerful warship.
  • China leads the BRICS alliance, which is richer than the G7.
  • China has the world’s finest infrastructure (roads, bridges, high-speed trains, subways, airports, seaports, power grids, etc.).

Fun pictures

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What is the government’s ulterior motive for mass migration in the UK? We are given reasons why, but I doubt they are the real reasons, given the debt the country is already in.

What is the government’s ulterior motive for mass migration in the UK? We are given reasons why, but I doubt they are the real reasons, given the debt the country is already in.

You’re not given the real reasons why.

Blair talked about Multiculturalism. It’s not that.

Or capitalists say it’s about cheap labour, but mechanisation has been a thing for a while now as has automation and outsourcing.

The reason there is mass migration? Are two fold:

More people crudely increases GDP, it’s not real added value though but it’s still counted as GDP ‘growth’. This means Debt to GDP stays below a certain point. Once it hits a certain point? It all goes Liz Truss.

The second part is why is UK GDP so narfed? Because post WW2 the governments made massive promises to the voters. We’ll provide you with super pensions for super low pension contributions! This cratered the birth rate reduced savings rates but boosted the economy.

The migration is needed to fill in all those unborn people. The pension promises were NEVER sustainable and literally unpayable.

So right now you’re staring down the barrel of a gun.

You either accept the migrants and live in a more crowded place with diminished services.

Or do not accept the migrants, have an economic collapse* and a very hard reset and hope you end up alive at the end of it.**

*The UK is unique in that it hasn’t had a full on collapse or revolution in 400+ years it’s been over due one for better or worse for a while now.

**A UK type collapse would be like post USSR countries in 91–01. I’ve spoken to many Russians and they look back to that period with absolute horror about how bad it was. This is why there’s little faith in the western world there. But here’s the Rub, Russia has land + resources + people *** so a recovery would happen eventually.

***Russia has per capita more engineers than even China.

For Millions Of Americans, This Holiday Season Will Be A Season Of Very Deep Suffering

 

If you live in a warm home and you have plenty of food to eat, you should consider yourself to be extremely blessed, because millions of others are deeply suffering right now.  Most of the country is living paycheck to paycheck, the number of homeless Americans is higher than ever, demand at food banks is back to pandemic levels, and many victims of Hurricane Helene are living in very thin tents and are not getting the help that they need from the government.  Children in the mountains of western North Carolina are literally shivering in the freezing cold all night long because their parents have nowhere else to go

Nearly two months since Helene hit, hundreds of local families are left with nowhere to go.

Now some of these children are living in tents and cars as their parents try desperately to find a new home.

One of those parents is Dana Wunsch.

She showed News 13 the camper where she and her partner, along with her two daughters, are now staying.

We are taxed extremely hard, and one of the things that our tax dollars are supposed to pay for is disaster relief.

But while FEMA personnel in North Carolina are sleeping in heated trailers, many victims of Hurricane Helene are sleeping in extremely flimsy tents that look like they could literally be blown away at any moment.

 

Could you imagine having your kids sleep in a flimsy tent night after night?

And now snow has arrived in the mountains of western North Carolina…

Some survivors in western North Carolina have had to navigate their recovery efforts around potentially hazardous conditions as snowfall ranging from a light dusting up to about 2 feet has blanketed the area.

In addition to snow, those living in tents have also been facing very high winds

Additionally, Helene survivors in western North Carolina will also have to manage with powerful winds. Wind gusts are expected to reach 30-40 mph in Asheville, while other areas may feel gusts of 50 mph or greater.

Of course Hurricane Helene is just one of the historic natural disasters that have hit our country here in 2024.

Overall, there have been 24 “billion dollar disasters” in the U.S. so far this year

During the first 10 months of this year alone, 24 disasters have occurred in the U.S. with losses exceeding $1 billion, according to the National Centers for Environmental Information.

That’s roughly three times the average annual number since 1980.

Our nation just keeps getting pummeled over and over again.

Is there anyone out there that still believes that this is just a coincidence?

Meanwhile, the homelessness crisis in the U.S. just keeps getting worse, and there are millions more Americans that could soon be joining the ranks of the homeless.

If you can believe it, one recent survey discovered that 22 percent of all U.S. renters say that “all their regular income goes toward rent payments”…

22% of U.S. renters say all their regular income goes toward rent payments, according to a recent Redfin-commissioned survey. 19% of renters report they have worked a job they hated to afford rent.

Just over one in five (22%) U.S. renters say all of their regular income goes directly to paying their rent, according to a recent Redfin-commissioned survey.

Working a second job is also a fairly common way for renters to pay housing costs, with 20% of renters citing that method. Nearly the same share (19%) say they have worked a job they hated to afford rent.

If all of your income is going to paying rent, you are just one step away from being homeless.

Sadly, most of the country is just barely scraping by from month to month at this point.

According to Bank of America, from 2019 to 2024 there was a 10 percent jump in those that are living paycheck to paycheck…

The share of U.S. households living paycheck to paycheck has grown across all income brackets over the past five years, according to a new study from the Bank of America Institute.

A new analysis released by the think tank on Tuesday found that more than a quarter of Americans, 26%, have necessary expenses that chew up more than 95% of their takehome pay, and nearly a third, 30%, of households spend upwards of 90% of their income on critical bills like groceries, housing, utilities, gas, insurance and child care.

The data showed a 10% increase in those living paycheck to paycheck in 2024 compared to 2019.

Economic pain is all around us, and the cost of living just continues to go even higher.

Once upon a time, if you were making $50,000 a year you were doing well.

But now the average American believes that it takes an income of $270,000 a year in order to be “financially successful”…

The average American thinks a salary of just over $270,000 a year qualifies them as “financially successful,” but there are huge disparities between generations, according to a new study.

Needless to say, the vast majority of the population does not make that sort of money.

Instead, the vast majority of us are just trying to survive.

Unfortunately, the outlook for the year ahead is not good because our economic momentum is heading in the wrong direction very rapidly.

In fact, it is being reported that the Conference Board’s index of leading economic indicators has fallen for eight months in a row

Weakness in the housing market and manufacturing, as well as higher jobless claims, pulled the leading indicators for the U.S. economy down for the eighth consecutive month in October.

The Conference Board said its index of leading indicators dropped 0.3 percent last month. The Conference Board pointed out that over the six-month period between April and October 2024, the index declined by 2.2 percent, slightly more than its two percent decline over the previous six-month period, suggesting that drags on the U.S. economy picked up.

If we are seeing such tremendous economic suffering now, what will conditions be like if the U.S. economy continues to deteriorate?

For decades, we have been living a debt-fueled standard of living that is way beyond what we have actually earned.

Now that bubble is starting to burst, and our society is not going to be able to handle it.

We are in far more trouble than most people realize, and an immense amount of pain is ahead of us.

Southern Hamburger Pie

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1 pound ground chuck
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 small can corn or green beans, drained (optional)
  • 1 (9 inch) frozen pie shell
  • 5 slices Velveeta cheese (about 4 to 5 ounces)
  • 1 can flaky biscuits

Instructions

  1. Begin thawing pie crust. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Cook ground beef and onion in a large skillet on medium heat, breaking up the beef with the back of a spoon, and cook until onions are soft.
  3. Drain excess fat and season with salt and pepper to taste.
  4. Add corn or green beans if using.
  5. Put meat mixture into the pie shell and evenly distribute the cheese over the top.
  6. Separate biscuits and layer in a circular pattern over the pie, covering it completely (you may not need all the biscuits).
  7. Cut a few small “steam slits” in the top and bake for about 20 minutes until golden brown.

What concerns you the most about Donald Trump’s second term?

Here’s what than should keep wannabe conservatives awake at night: he might destroy American military might.

Currently delivering 2.8 Megademocracies per hour

US military is the most powerful force the world has ever seen, but it’s not such because it has the best weapons. It’s a combination of the biggest budget and competent people who make logsitics seem easy. When war in Ukraine broke out USA was able to ship howitzers from a depot in Kansas to the front line in Ukraine in less time a letter sent from Poland reached Ukraine. That’s money talking yes, but also competence – US military has several hundred highly competent people running the logistical apparatus.

DJ Trump wants to purge the military and promote people based on personal loyalty, not merit. Inevitably Trump loyalists will be the lowest of the low, people who can’t get ahead in life on what they can deliver, but how well they lick boots and butts. An army based on personal loyalty to the Dear Leader will be incompetent, it may have high end toys, but it will look a lot like Russian army in Ukraine. With good reason too, that’s why Russian army is not all that strong in the first place.

If Trump has his way with the military – he alread started that with Lt.Col.Vindman at the end of his first term – the US military could end up a shadow of its former self and unable to be relevant in the world at large for the foreseeable future.

If you ask who lost the election in 2024 it was the USA. Half the country just doesn’t know it yet.

How to communicate with your pets that have passed away | Pets in the afterlife

"Hi! In this video i talk about losing our pets, and the different techniques to communicate and connect with them. I talk about what it takes to connect with them, what happens to them after they pass away, and explain where they are now at what their experience is like. I want everyone to know that they still exist and are still with you all the time, they are just not in their physical body. The bond you have with them is unbreakable and lasts through life times. I hope that this video helps you in some way! "

Taco Bell Friendships

When I attended university, I met a classmate that was in one of my literature classes. And you all know, I recognized him, but I just couldn’t place him. I recognized him. But I just didn’t know him.

Well, eventually, I got to talking with him and found out what is going on.

It turned out that he didn’t know me. But yet, I recognized him. You see, he was in a very popular Taco Bell commercial in the 1970s. And I recognized him from that. Crazy huh?

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He said that he got some money for his role in the commercial. But that it was around $5000 (big money in those days). And he told me that it helped him pay for his tuition. Ah, as I recall, we could of gone and had some adventures together, but we ended up going our separate ways. Ah. The university life.

Today…

11 Years Ago TODAY, The US, EU Lead a Coup d’ Etat in Ukraine – they’ve been fighting ever since

Eleven years ago today, the CIA and, likely MI6, lead a Coup d’état in Ukraine.  They dubbed it the “Maidan” revolution.  They’ve been at war ever since.

It was 11 years ago today that all the REAL trouble in Ukraine began.   The US financed protests in Ukraine with almost one million dollars a day, in cash, coming out of the US Embassy in Kiev.

In the next weeks, the protests would become so violent, the CIA-backed protesters burned Ukrainian government people alive in cities like Odessa and Mariupol.

Within months, the democratically-elected President, Viktor Yanukovych, was overthrown and a puppet government was installed by the US and the EU, in Kiev.

This caused the people of Crimea to vote in a public referendum, to secede, and return home to Russia.   Crimea had only been part of Ukraine for about 55 years, after Nikita Khrushchev (a Ukrainian) General Secretary of the Soviet Union, GAVE Crimea to Ukraine.

Crimea voted overwhelmingly to return home to Russia.

The collective West recoiled in horror, and refused to recognize the vote, even though it was closely monitored by United Nations election observers.

To this very day, the collective West denies reality, and refers to Crimea as “occupied.”

After Crimea departed Ukraine, Luhansk and Donetsk wanted to leave.   Ukraine, at the urging of the EU and the US,  massed troops on the borders of those two Oblasts (states) and began firing artillery and mortars into the civilian populations.   They wanted to ethnically-cleanse the Russian-speaking population!

The state militia of both Luhansk and Donetsk fought Ukraine to a standstill, but at a terrible price: 13,000 civilians were killed by the Ukraine shelling and mortar fire.

Hoping to stop the bloodshed, a meeting was arranged in Minsk, Belarus for a peace conference.  It was attended by the Kiev government, via President Poroshenko, representatives from Luhansk and Donetsk, the President of France, Francois Hollande, and the Chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel, as well as Russian President Vladimir Putin.

After almost 19 hours of negotiations, they all signed the Minsk Agreement” to restore peace.

Ukraine did not honor even ONE item of that agreement.

Enter Donald Trump.   Trump handily defeated political wretch Hillary Clinton and all the troubles in Ukraine stopped.  It was like magic!

Fast-forward to 2020, the Democrat Party in the US used massive mail-in Ballot fraud, and electronic fraud with electronic voting machines, to STEAL the U.S. Presidency.

Within ONE WEEK of Joe Biden taking office, all the trouble in Ukraine began again.  Like Magic, again!

Seeing how this was going, In December 2021, Russia put forth a proposal for Iron-clad, legally enforceable security guarantees.   The collective West laughed at them and threw the proposal in the dustbin of history.

Weeks later, Russia issued the proposal again, only this time, they finished it by saying “If Russia cannot get iron-clad, legally enforceable security guarantees by Diplomatic means, it will achieve them through military means.”   They openly told everyone they were going to use force.

It took the collective West about two or three weeks to digest this, before they laughed again, and threw the proposal in the dustbin.

On February 21, 2022, Russia called Ukraine’s new President, Zelensky, and told him that Ukraine had five hours to agree not to join NATO.   Zelensky called the UK Foreign Secretary and the US State Department.  BOTH told Ukraine to “ignore Russia.”

Russia waited the five hours and, when there was no reply from Ukraine, two hours later, the Russian Army entered Ukraine and the war had begun.

The collective West calls this an unprovoked war of aggression.  That is a lie.  The West provoked this back in 2014 with the “Maidan” coup d’ etat, they provoked it again with the shelling and mortar fire into Luhansk and Donetsk, and they provoked it again by failing/refusing the Minsk Agreement.

The result has been:

  • Over one million dead soldiers all together, over 600,000 Ukrainians at least out of that million.
  • Likely three or four times that maimed disfigured and crippled.
  • 25 or more million Ukrainians have left their country.  Over half the population!
  • The country of Ukraine is destroyed and will probably never recover.

Years later, after Russia entered the fight under its “Duty to Protect” in the UN Charter, both Hollande and Merkel admitted in TV interviews, the entire Minsk conference was a ruse.  They both admitted they got involved “to buy time for Ukraine to arm for war with Russia.”

What kind of person goes to a Peace Conference with the intent to deceive into war? Psychopaths, maybe?

THAT is why today, the Russia-Ukraine conflict goes on, and despite all the weapons and money provided by NATO, Ukraine is losing.

The sooner Russia defeats Ukraine, the sooner all this trouble will end.

The Case for Trump & Restraining Liberalism – Steve Turley, Alexander Mercouris & Glenn Diesen

Surprisingly good.

Trump has threatened to impose 100% tariffs on goods from BRICS countries if they abandon the dollar, but isn’t the EU also not using it? Is this a veiled warning to everyone else outside BRICS to follow and respect Murican world leadership?

This is absolute nonsense

Trump never ever said this

Trump said if the BRICS established their own currency and traded in that currency then he would impose 100% tariffs on them for all the trade they did with the US

What is so wrong about this Statement?

He didn’t threaten to freeze their assets

He didn’t threaten to sanction them

All he says is he would impose a 100% tariff on all the business with US

Again note :—

BRICS trading with each other in local currencies is something Trump doesn’t give a damn about

His problem is if BRICS establishes a system that threatens the Brent System and universally changes the pricing of commodities in BRICS currencies rather than the US Dollar

Who will be affected here?

Russia doesn’t care

They don’t need US products anymore

Their exports to US are so crucial that US pays them in Rubles for all these products like Enriched Uranium & Fertilizers & Refined Titanium

Brazil doesn’t care

US runs a surplus with Brazil anyway and it’s foolish to impose tariffs on a country with whom you have a surplus

South Africa doesnt care

They get nothing critical from US and their Diamonds and Gold are needed in the US

Iran is sanctioned anyway

China is a buyer of Gold and Commodities rather than a seller so with a $ 1 Trillion annual trade surplus – China will ALWAYS use USD to buy commodities

They have too many Dollars anyway

India won’t be affected

India runs a surplus with US

India is a GOOD BOY who isn’t a threat to anyone for a minimum 50 years

So in reality, it is an Empty Threat by Trump

Life can be strange

On the deployment of a US military biolab in Tajikistan

Alarming news is coming from Tajikistan: as reported by Stan Radar, the Americans are preparing to open a military biolab at the Republican Center for the Protection of the Population from Tuberculosis (RCPT) in Dushanbe.

❗️It is this US military unit that is responsible for military biological research abroad, including in biolabs in Kazakhstan. Therefore, the information requires an immediate and tough response from both the authorities in Dushanbe and the CSTO. Especially given that Tajikistan is a member of the organization on whose territory our military base is located.

Cracklin’ Corn Bread

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e48891ef062b4844b88f422ca7d4a6b3

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup finely diced salt pork
  • 2 cups cornmeal
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 eggs, well beaten
  • 1 cup buttermilk
  • 2 tablespoons salt pork drippings

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Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Fry salt pork over low heat until nicely browned.
  3. Drain fat, saving both drippings and cracklings.
  4. Sift together corn meal, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
  5. Combine eggs, buttermilk and drippings.
  6. Stir into cornmeal mixture together with cracklings.
  7. Spread dough in a greased cast iron skillet and bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until done.

This guy would definitely be on the list.

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main qimg 40a9bbee20becf08a58f51f385f90929 lq

When the whole world is in the middle of Coronavirus pandemic King Rama X of Thailand is staying in the four-star Grand Hotel Sonnenbichl in the Bavarian Alps (Germany) with an entourage of 20 women.

His real name is Maha Vajiralongkorn and now he is the king of Thailand so the name King Rama X.

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main qimg 8f15abe3bf899eb1406c0d3035ed78ee lq

His net worth is estimated to be a whopping 31 billion US dollars.

His father died in 2016 but his coronation took place in May,2019 as he wanted to give time to his countrymen to mourn his father’s death.

His coronation ceremony costed a freaking 31 million USD to the Thailand government.

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main qimg a9310c0bbd0a6ec43c599ec380f5eeab lq

Unlike the British royal family this guy can do pretty much whatever the heck he wants to such as naming his pet poodle Foo Foo an air chief marshal and of course a four-day-long Buddhist funeral ceremony for the Marshall after it died.

This dude has a reputation for womanizing, having fathered seven children by three women and a list of wives and girlfriends he dumped.

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main qimg e95ed24522fd8cc6debdba0e6d9b52f2 lq

Don’t worry he ain’t punishing her, he’s just marrying her.

He likes to spend most of his time in Germany and Europe rather than his home country.

And his candid pics are pretty sick.

His mother, Queen Sirikit, reportedly once described her son as “a little bit of a Don Juan” in the early 1980s.

He spent most of his childhood in UK and Australia and discovered his interest in cycling and other sports.

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main qimg c759899bbd38e4c1e812c8d1c5457e69 lq

Though his photos suggest that he dislikes shirts.

He is also pretty liberal as he is Thailand’s first modern monarch to openly have more than one partner.

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main qimg f84b06b61320c3291fecb3597fc563a6 lq

He is quite conscious about his looks too because when a photo of the king was posted on Facebook showing him wearing a crop top, he threatened to sue Facebook, saying the images were insulting.

And quite dangerous too because according to Thailand’s law whoever defames the King or royal family is punished pretty hard.

At least two people arrested on royal defamation charges have been found dead under mysterious circumstances.

Hope this does not reaches him or I am dead.

The Negative Impacts of Dating Apps

This is a profound video.

Just some more pictures

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Talk Of A Pre-Emptive Attack On Russia Is Going To Make Russia Even More Likely To Conduct A Pre-emptive Attack Against Us

If some lunatic shows up at your front door in the middle of the night and threatens to shoot you, does that make it more likely or less likely that you will shoot first?  Any talk of NATO conducting a pre-emptive attack against Russia is extremely dangerous, because the Russians are paranoid enough already.  If they become convinced that we are planning to hit them before they can hit us, that could motivate them to do something really, really stupid.  We are closer to nuclear war than we have ever been before, and we definitely do not need western leaders making provocative statements that are only going to make things even worse.

For example, during a conference in Brussels NATO’s top military official said something that is now making headlines all over the globe.  The following comes from an article posted on MSN News entitled “NATO considers preemptive strikes amid rising tensions with Russia”

NATO Military Committee Chairman Admiral Rob Bauer stated during a conference in Brussels that NATO leadership is contemplating the possibility of conducting precise preemptive strikes on Russian territory in the event of an armed conflict between Moscow and the Alliance.

It is now being claimed that Bauer was not actually talking about a pre-emptive strike on Russia.

But if you look at his actual words, it certainly seems like that was precisely what he was talking about…

During a question-and-answer session after his address at the European Policy Center in Brussels, Bauer said, “The idea was we are a defensive alliance, so we will only sit and wait until we are attacked, and then when we are attacked, we will be able to shoot down the ‘arrows’ that come to us,” referring to a Russian strike.

He also said that when responding to any attack, it would be “smarter” to “attack the archer, that is…Russia—if Russia attacks us. So you need to have a combination of deep precision (strikes) with which you can take out the weapons systems that are used to attack us.”

Needless to say, the Russians were not amused.

In fact, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov believes that Bauer was essentially announcing NATO’s “real plans”

The North Atlantic Alliance has ignored all diplomatic protocol, allowing itself to make statements about the possibility of preemptive strikes on Russia, top Russian diplomat Sergey Lavrov said.

“Just the other day, Mr. Bauer, NATO Military Committee Chair, explicitly stated that it’s no longer enough, and ensuring the defense of the North Atlantic Alliance member states requires strikes on targets in Russia that NATO believes may pose a threat to the bloc. I think there’s nothing to comment on here; it’s just that they have forgotten all etiquette, publicly announcing their real plans,” he noted at the 20th meeting of the heads of security and intelligence agencies of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) countries.

If the Russians become convinced that we are going to hit them first, that will make it much more likely that they will hit us first.

We really need to get the Russians to understand that we have no plans to do that.

Meanwhile, a French news source is reporting that European leaders continue to discuss “sending Western troops and private defense companies to Ukraine”…

As the conflict in Ukraine enters a new phase of escalation, discussions over sending Western troops and private defense companies to Ukraine have been revived, Le Monde has learned from corroborating sources. These are sensitive discussions, most of which are classified – relaunched in light of a potential American withdrawal of support for Kyiv once Donald Trump takes office on January 20, 2025.

That is insane!

What in the world are they thinking?

No matter what Donald Trump does when he gets into the White House, our European allies fully intend to continue to escalate this war.

It is madness.

On top of everything else, this week the New York Times has reported that the Biden administration has actually discussed the possibility of arming Ukraine with nuclear weapons.

When Dmitry Medvedev heard about this, he went ballistic

Moscow will consider any threat of nuclear arms being supplied to Ukraine by the US as preparation for a direct war with Russia, former president Dmitry Medvedev has warned. The actual transfer of nuclear weapons would be tantamount to an attack on the country under Russia’s new nuclear doctrine, he added.

On Tuesday, Medvedev posted a message on Telegram that was quite ominous

“Give nuclear weapons to a country at war with the largest nuclear power? The idea is so absurd that it raises suspicions about a paranoid psychosis in Joe The Walking Dead and all those who would advise such a move.”

He continued, “Yet I must comment on the nonsense: 1) The very threat of transferring nuclear weapons to the Kyiv regime can be considered preparation for nuclear conflict with Russia;

2) The actual transfer of such weapons can be equated to an act of attack on our country under article 19 of the Fundamentals of State Policy in the Field of Nuclear Deterrence.

The consequences are obvious.”

I don’t think that the Biden administration has any intention of giving Ukraine nuclear weapons right now.

But the fact that they are talking about it is really freaking out the Russians.

I really wish that cooler heads would prevail, but instead both sides just continue to escalate matters.

Over the past few days, Ukraine has launched more long-range missiles provided by NATO into Russian territory, and now the Russians have announced that they are preparing another “response”…

Russia is preparing a response to Ukrainian ATACMS attacks on Kursk Region, the Russian Defense Ministry announced on Tuesday. Last week, US President Joe Biden authorized Kiev to use US-supplied long-range missiles against targets deep inside Russia’s internationally recognized borders.

In an official statement on Telegram, the Russian Defense Ministry reported that over the past three days, Ukraine’s forces had conducted two long-range strikes on Kursk Region using Western weaponry.

As I discuss in this video, many are anticipating that the Russian “response” will be even larger than last time.

 

 

Let us hope that the Russians only use conventional weapons, and let us hope that they limit their targets to Ukraine.

Because the Russians have previously identified a U.S. base in Poland as a potential target, and the Biden administration is making it clear that such a strike would trigger NATO’s Article 5

White House National Security Communications Advisor John Kirby said Monday that the U.S. has a ‘rock-solid’ commitment to NATO’s Article 5, should Russia strike the new U.S. anti-missile base in Poland. Article 5 is NATO’s principle of collective defense, that if one NATO member is attacked, all other NATO members go to war with the attacker, a world war-style response.

“We take our Article 5 commitments to our NATO Allies incredibly seriously. It’s rock-solid, and that’s not going to change,” Kirby said on Monday, according to Remix News.

Kirby was responding to Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova, who on Thursday said that Russia is considering attacking a new U.S. anti-missile base in Poland.

We are dangerously close to a point of no return.

Once nuclear missiles start flying, there will be no going back.

The Russians have been working extremely hard to prepare for a nuclear war, and meanwhile the U.S. is still relying on hopelessly outdated systems from the 1970s and 1980s.

We must change course while it is still possible to do so.

Unfortunately, it appears that we are about to witness another series of escalations which will push us even closer to the unthinkable.

Best Served Cold

Submitted into Contest #62 in response to: Write about a character preparing to go into stasis for decades (or centuries). view prompt

Charles Stucker

“Your Grace, I regret to inform you that the constant provocation of lawless elements from your duchy have forced my lord, His Majesty, the Emperor of Barundia, to declare war upon you.” The popinjay ambassador from the power-mad tyrant bows as he speaks. “Do you wish to respond?””I would like a week’s time to arrange my abdication,” I answer. “If I can manage affairs with my subordinates, my people will not suffer.””We know your coffers are full. Should they be plundered ere the week is done, no place shall hide you from our lord’s wrath.””Leave. I have a bare week to prepare. Note well, that should you cross my borders a single day early, my army shall fight and we will burn every field and granary, salt every field, poison every well, and allow our folk time to flee to the Kingdom of Marondika. Your lord will gain naught but a barren hellscape should he arrive early.”I sit and watch the ambassador leave, then motion my marshal forward. “Gather all the armsmen, retainers, and even the first levy. Gather them here in case of treachery. Allow their spouses and children to come as well, that they may all depart together.”I wave my hand and the bailiff dismisses the remainder of my court. I have a plan, but it will require the aid of my wizard, Garven.”You’re certain this will work?” I ask Garven.”Yes, Duke Rondil.” He motions to the hidden entrance. “None can find the caverns once the spell seals them and all within will remain timeless for the duration. To those inside, but an instant shall pass.””Good. It can hold the number needed, along with all the gear and treasures?””Certainly.”I leave him and go out to the gardens. I stop beside the statue of my late wife. “I may never see you after this. That barbarian will certainly destroy you in a fit of pique. But I must do this.”I am certain time shall prove fleeting.The days have fled. Levies, many with young wives and small children, arrive in fits and starts, only to disappear into the depths of the castle. Rumors fly, but none speak openly. My senior retainers, lords all, fret with worry.”Sire, are you ill?” Dyimes, my senior squire. Like all royal guards, he is a knight in his prime. A bachelor of twenty-seven. When we emerge, I must arrange a suitable bride for him.”No Dyimes, but my decision weighs on me.””I shall follow you into exile willingly.” Ever loyal, he sees it as the only option.”Walk with me.” We traverse the hall of ancestors, a line of paintings which I cannot remove until the closing moments. Dyimes would trail me, but I motion him to my side. We reach a side corridor and I follow it to the empty solar, where my wife once held her lady’s court.”I’ve never been in this part of the castle before.””Hardly surprising. It has grown over twelve generations.” I give him a wry smile. “Once it was a modest chalet, but now it sprawls with offices and rooms until I can scarce credit none have torn it down to start anew.””How do you intend to fare abroad?””I intend to go into an enchanted slumber.””For how long?””Twenty years. Enough for the mad emperor to grow old and the people to tire of his rule.”

“The disappearing levies.” He blinks. “And the arms. You intend to rebel when you return.”

“Exactly. I took the first levy, the men sixteen to twenty-five, to give me a double count of those men when I return.” I start walking, worried that a spy might follow and overhear. “Coupled with the nobles and their retainers, we shall have more force than today, and they shall be led by either his son, who is a halfwit, or a tired old man.”

“All this depends on your wizard. What if he fails to wake you at an appropriate point?”

“Then we shall wait for eternity I suppose.”

Dyimes’s words fill me with misgivings, yet I decide to enjoy this last day to the extent possible. I wander from hall to hall, room to room. I walk into the stables, where stablehands lead reluctant chargers- rounceys, coursers, and destriers away. Tack goes with the steeds or is already in the caverns. A youth pulls on Foecrusher’s reins, hapless before the truculence of the massive beast. I wonder where Sir Acehilm, his rider, might be. Then I am past the stables and into the kitchens, where the harried cook makes a final meal even as supplies are taken down into the depths by those who will go with us into an uncertain future.

Maudlin sentiment overcomes me. I strip my household of provender and servants, my land of youth and arms, my treasury of coins and bullion, all to prevent the usurper of Barundia claiming them. Had only his brother lived, we might have a reasonable man over there and I would still enjoy my wife’s embrace. My steps take uncertain turnings.

Then, the ambassador steps in front of me. I have no clue how he entered my court at this time. I suppose someone must have left a door open, or some such. Garven worked an enchantment to stay men’s tongues. Once he seals us in, he intends to cloud memories. I shall be a lord from a magical tale, destined to return in my people’s time of need. But only if none can tell my enemies where to find me.

“Ambassador,” Dyimes says. “You have returned early. Are our agreements nullified?”

“This castle seems much reduced.” Another of the fop’s bows. “Perhaps your duke forgot that Emperor Frentowex warned him to not loot the treasury on pain of death.”

“Perhaps I intended to spare you the fate you so richly deserve for aiding him,” I say. “Do you believe me unaware that you escorted the assassin who murdered my wife bare weeks before the birth of my first child?”

Dyimes, instantly alert, steps past the ambassador to drop the man’s bodyguard with a dagger to the belly. I have the ambassador by the throat with one hand while the other grips his wrist. “I and mine shall return one day to your liege’s dismay. But you shall tread the paths of death ere sunset.”

Dyimes plunges his dagger into the ambassador’s back.

“Leave the bodies.” I lead Dyimes to the secret entrance, where Garven awaits. “Is everything ready?”

“Including having a team of jongleurs to spread the mystery of the disappearing duke and his household.”

Knowing the bitter chill which shall encase us, I step into the depths to chase my revenge.

 

author’s note- This one may be a little rough. I posted just as I finished.

Fun Pictures

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Ladies and gentlemen… the Future Director of the FBI!!

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main qimg 7a2be4871168598f0249542ef754b9dc

China SLAPPED ASML So HARD: Europe Will NEVER Recover!

The Population

Submitted into Contest #62 in response to: Write about a character preparing to go into stasis for decades (or centuries). view prompt

Julia Boddie

They rushed him to the hospital. Timothy laid on the wheeled stretcher. He was ready.A few weeks ago, he got an email saying that he had been accepted into a science camp. Timothy was overjoyed. He had been trying to get into that camp for three years.Timothy counted down the days until camp started. Nothing else mattered to him. If he got grounded for not helping out around the house, he would just lay in bed thinking about the camp. As long as he got to go to that camp, everything was fine.Finally, the day had come. The camp bus drove by his house to pick him up. Timothy got in, carrying a suitcase full of unnecessary things.“You Timothy Carin?” asked the bus driver.Timothy nodded and sat down in an empty seat at the front of the bus. The door closed and the bus began to drive away. After a few more stops and other kids’ houses, they were on their way to Camp Camerez. The bus drove down the dirt paved road. The area was abandoned.Timothy was worried. This was not how the area looked on the flyer. When they got to the camp though, Timothy was amazed. It was so fancy. There was a huge brick building. In the front, it said in big, bold, yellow letters, “WELCOME TO CAMP CAMEREZ!”. There were two other around it buildings that were slightly smaller than the building in the middle. Timothy knew from the virtual tour he had taken that those were the two science labs.The camp wasn’t much of a camp. It was more of a school. The bus stopped.“Everyone off the bus,” said the bus driver. “Head towards the main building, but don’t go in yet. Just wait at the entrance.”The kids nodded and started to get off the bus. Timothy slid out of his seat. He then descended the bus stairs and started to walk towards the big building.He was one of the first people to make it there. It was probably his excitement fueling him. When he made it, a man walked out of the entrance.“Welcome to Camp Camerez,” he said cheerfully. “It’s my job to ensure you have a great time here. If you have any problems, please come find me. When the others get here, I will show you where you’ll be staying.”

 

Timothy nodded. This person seemed friendly enough. When everyone else got there, he told them the same thing. Then he told them to follow him and began walking towards a large cabin.

 

To Timothy, it seemed like this was the only reason they could call this place a camp.

 

“This is where the girls will be staying. Everyone unpack and pick a bunk. There will be no fighting or roughhousing in there do you understand?”

 

The girls nodded and went inside their cabin. He led the boys a little bit further away to a different cabin.

 

“Here is your cabin boys. You guys have the same rules as the girls. No roughhousing or fighting. Everyone go ahead and unpack and choose a bunk.”

 

All the boys, including Timothy, rushed into their cabin, eager to get first pick on a bunk. Timothy was one of the only ones who didn’t know anyone else. Everyone else already knew each other and they all wanted to have a bunk with their friends.

 

Timothy ended up stuck on the bottom bunk in the corner of the room. He was fine with that though. As long as he got to attend this camp, he would be fine with anything. He unpacked all his belongings. In his suitcase, he had his clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, and other assorted items.

 

After he unpacked, he decided to go explore the camp. He walked outside of the boy’s cabin and looked around. It was sunset. Timothy didn’t want to explore anymore. He just wanted to get a good view of the sunset. He looked around for a high place he could stand.

 

He saw a zipline. There was a wooden platform leading to it. He could stand on that. He rushed over there, not wanting to miss the beautiful sunset.

 

When he made it over there, he saw a ladder to climb up to the platform. Timothy climbed as fast as he could. Finally, he made it up.

 

Timothy didn’t know why he was so attracted to the sunset this day. It was his destiny to be. He heard someone climbing up the ladder.

 

“Who is it?” he asked.

 

“My name’s Andrew. I’m your bunkmate,” the boy shouted from the bottom of the ladder.

 

He continued climbing up.

 

“Well, what are you doing here?” Timothy asked again.

 

“Same as you, I assume. I just wanted to get a good look at the sunset.

 

Andrew was almost to the platform.

 

It was a little scary being up there. Timothy was about a hundred-fifty feet up in the air. Below him was water. He wondered if it was deep.

 

Andrew had made it up. Both boys stood there, staring at the sunset. Then Andrew started to shift ever so slightly behind Timothy. When he was behind him, he pushed him into the water below.

 

Timothy felt the shove come from behind. The next thing he knew, he was plunging into the water. He hit the water in a belly flop.

 

Timothy sunk to the bottom. With a belly flop like that, he should’ve been dead. But miraculously, he survived. Timothy was at the bottom of the lake when he heard a voice.

 

“Are you ready?” the voice asked.

 

Timothy had no idea what it was talking about. He tried to talk, forgetting that he was underwater.

 

“Wwwwwa rrr yaaaa ttaaaa aaaabot?”

 

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that, I forgot you were underwater.”

 

A giant bubble of air surrounded Timothy. He could breathe.

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked again, this time understandably.

 

“You weren’t told yet? They were supposed to start getting you prepared ages ago!” said the voice.

 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You have to go into stasis for a thousand years.”

 

Timothy laughed. The voice had to be joking.

 

“I’m not kidding. You must go into stasis. It is your destiny. You must do it to save the world.”

 

“How is me going into stasis going to save the world?”

 

“It’s kind of a long story. Well, the world is overpopulated. If there are too many humans, the whole race will die out. Not wanting to kill anyone, a scientist came up with a plan. She came up with a way to transfer people’s souls inside other people. So, you’re the body. There are about fifty-million souls inside of you. Still, killing all those people would be wrong. That’s why we need you to go into stasis for a while. That way, the world won’t be overpopulated anymore, and hopefully, when you wake up, the world won’t be as populated and you can come back. Don’t worry though, you won’t be in stasis for too long. Every three hundred years, you’ll wake up and I’ll take you through physical therapy.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any better! That means I’ll only wake up three times!” Timothy shouted.

 

This was a lot for him to take in. He couldn’t believe that he had about fifty-million people inside him. He had always been an ambivalent person.

 

Timothy did not want to go into stasis, but it was either that, or he had to die. Plus, it wasn’t fair to all the other people in him. It wouldn’t be fair if all of them had to die just because he didn’t want to go into stasis. Timothy decided he would do it.

 

“Besides you and the scientist, does anyone else know about this?” he asked.

 

“Actually, I am the scientist. I found a way to transmit my voice down here. But no, besides us, no one else knows about this. When you go into stasis, I’ll make it look like some kind of accident.”

 

“What will you do with me?”

 

“I guess I’ll just take you back to my lab and take care of you there. Before I pass away, I’ll find some more trustworthy people to take care of you. They’ll do the same. So we’ll take care of you for a thousand years,” said the scientist. “Come back here tomorrow. I have to get you prepared.”

 

The air bubble disappeared and Timothy floated up to the surface. He looked up and saw Andrew still standing on the platform. Timothy climbed up the ladder at lightning speed. When he made it up there, he was furious.

 

“Why would you push me? I could’ve died! It’s a miracle I survived!” he shouted.

 

“Calm down. I was just trying to have a little fun. How was I supposed to know you’re afraid of water?”

 

“I’m not afraid of water! You’re lucky I’m okay. I’m going back to the cabin.”

 

Timothy stormed off in the direction of the cabin. When he got there, he changed into some dry clothes and went to bed.

 

The next morning, they were woken up at sunrise by their guide.

 

“Everyone up! Time to get up!”

 

Timothy jumped up, startled. He banged his head on Andrew’s bunk above him. He rubbed his head and got up.

 

He and all the other boys took turns showering, brushing their teeth, washing their faces, and getting dressed. It took about an hour for everyone to get ready, mainly because there were only a few showers and a lot of kids. Also, some of the boys wouldn’t stop playing around.

 

When they were all ready, they waited for the girls to finish. The girls took even longer than the boys because they were putting on makeup. Timothy never got the point of makeup. Why would you go through the hassle to put it on, when you’re going to mess it up anyway? And even if you didn’t, it didn’t even last that long. The boys waited for about thirty minutes. Finally, the girls finished.

 

Timothy was excited about camp. He also needed to find the time to go back to the lake and meet the scientist. He wasn’t worried about that though. He could probably just slip away when nobody was looking.

 

The guide came by both of the cabins and led the boys and the girls.

 

“Today we’re letting everyone work in the labs. After that, you’ll have free time for the rest of the day. Then tonight, we’ll be roasting marshmallows by the campfire,” he said, pointing to a campfire.

 

When they made it to the labs, they walked in. There were adult supervisors at every station. Everyone split up and got to work.

 

Timothy wasn’t sure what to do. He had been so excited to come to this camp, but when he finally got there, he didn’t know what to do. Timothy eventually decided to just build a mini volcano.

 

After being in the lab for a few hours, the guide let them out for free time. During his free time, Timothy went to the lake. He talked to the scientist, preparing for his stasis.

 

She taught him what to do. If he felt like he was about to go into stasis, he had to breathe in and out at a rapid pace. This would help keep him alive.

 

Day after day, Timothy kept going to the lake.

 

Eventually, it was time.

 

One day, Timothy started to slip. He felt as if he was losing his grip on reality. He knew it was time. He breathed in and out rapidly. He was in the boy’s cabin alone. Then, Andrew walked through the door.

 

Timothy gasped. He didn’t want Andrew to see him pass out.

 

“Andrew, you have to get out of here,” he said, still wheezing.

 

“Why?”

 

“Ummmmmmmmmm. You’ll miss zip lining!” Timothy said, trying to sound believable.

 

“I didn’t know we were going zip lining today,” Andrew said.

 

He rushed out of the room with false hopes. Timothy was glad he was gone. He continued to breathe fast. He enjoyed those breaths. They were the last he would take for three hundred years.

We Were Soldiers Lighter Moments

Mark Swiden (U.S.) is an expert in drug manufacturing and was arrested red-handed at a drug production den with solid evidence.

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main qimg da75fa0b6411422a4ec8e94491b03a85

On April 30, 2019, the Intermediate People’s Court of Jiangmen City, Guangdong Province, in accordance with the law, the Canadian defendant Fan Wei and other 11 large transnational drug trafficking, manufacturing case for public sentencing.

The court found that in March 2012, the defendant Fan Wei, Wu Ziping people conspired to jointly manufacture, trafficking in drugs, and gathered defendants Mark Swiden (U.S.) and Leon, Pedro, Oscar, Keret (four are Mexican), such as drug production technicians and Zeng Xiantan, Li Rongfu and other drug production personnel.

From July to November 2012, Fan Wei and the others [1] set up a drug manufacturing cell in Taishan, Guangdong Province, and [2] trafficked and [3] manufactured a total of 63,833.92 grams of methamphetamine and 365.9 grams of di-methylcrystalline propylene glycol (DMP).

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main qimg b0660514b92b7f187fa04629692f7f7f

Mark Swiden, an American citizen, was arrested in China in 2007 for drug trafficking and manufacturing. According to available information, he was sentenced to death in 2009. The Chinese judicial system handed down this sentence due to the severity of the crime, as drug trafficking and manufacturing are considered extremely serious offenses in China.

Queen teaches a princess

Trump Nominees Are Targets Of Bomb Threats As Radical Groups Plan Massive Protests For Inauguration Day

You didn’t think that the radicals would just give up and go home after Donald Trump won the election, did you?  It took a little bit of time for the shock of Trump’s election victory to wear off, but now it appears that they are ready to cause widespread chaos.  On Wednesday, it was being reported that multiple individuals that have been nominated for positions in Trump’s cabinet have been “targeted with violent threats”

Multiple of President-elect Donald Trump’s Cabinet nominees were targeted with violent threats in recent hours and law enforcement officials are responding, Trump’s transition team said on Wednesday.

The threats occurred on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning and included bomb threats and swatting, Trump transition spokesperson Karoline Leavitt said in a statement. Swatting refers to attacks where people falsely report crimes to police, sending them to locations where no emergency occurred.

“Law enforcement and other authorities acted quickly to ensure the safety of those who were targeted,” Leavitt said. “President Trump and the entire Transition team are grateful for their swift action.”

This isn’t just happening to nominees that are highly controversial.

For example, Elise Stefanik and Lee Zeldin were not controversial picks by Trump, but they have both been targets of bomb threats

Elise Stefanik, a Republican U.S. representative and Trump’s choice to be U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, and Lee Zeldin, a former Republican congressman who is Trump’s pick to head the Environmental Protection Agency, both said in separate statements they had been the targets of bomb threats.

An FBI spokesperson said the bureau is aware of numerous bomb threats and swatting incidents targeting incoming administration nominees and appointees, and is working with its law enforcement partners.

Could you imagine living with the fear that some nut could set off a bomb at your home at any moment?

Zeldin says that the pipe bomb threat that was directed at his family came with “a pro-Palestinian themed message”

“A pipe bomb threat targeting me and my family at our home today was sent in with a pro-Palestinian themed message,” Zeldin said in a statement posted on X. “My family and I were not home at the time and are safe. We are working with law enforcement to learn more as this situation develops.”

President Trump hasn’t even taken office yet, and this is already beginning.

So how bad will it get once Trump and his cabinet start making decisions that the radicals absolutely detest?

Over the past few weeks, we have seen such an explosion of rage all over the country.

Many on the left were absolutely convinced that Trump would be defeated.  When that didn’t happen, a tsunami of negative emotion was released.

Let me give you an example of what I am talking about.  In Wisconsin, a group of women recently gathered to conduct a “primal scream” session during which they attempted to release the frustration that they are feeling as a result of the election…

A group of sad leftists gathered at Klode Park in Whitefish Bay to engage in a “primal scream,” releasing what was described as their “pain and frustration” after the election results saw President-elect Donald Trump romp to a decisive victory and Vice President Kamala Harris left far behind.

Video shows the group of people standing at the shore line and screaming. One of the event’s attendees — identified as an organizer — also posted about the event on Facebook.

“What a gorgeous morning to gather at Klode Park in Whitefish Bay to engage in a Primal Scream in order to release our pain and frustration after the election,” Tamara Gibbs posted on November 9, less than a week after the election.

I have watched footage of these women screaming at the top of their lungs, and it is truly frightening.

It is hard to imagine how this could possibly be helpful.

Instead, it seems to me that they are just whipping themselves up into even more of a frenzy.

Unfortunately, radicals have now identified a focal point for their frustrations.

Inauguration Day is coming up on January 20th, and many on the left plan to make it a day to remember.  The following comes from the official website of one group that is engaged in a “nationwide mobilization” effort…

On Inauguration Day, January 20, people will come together in Washington D.C. and in cities and towns across the country in a nationwide mobilization opposing Trump’s ultra-right, billionaire agenda.

Trump ran a con game during the election. His real agenda is to destroy worker’s rights, deport millions of immigrant families, and pave the way for a complete corporate capitalist takeover by ending regulations to protect the environment, firing thousands of public sector workers, and transferring ever-larger parts of the National Treasury to the military industrial complex. He is 100 % behind Netanyahu’s genocidal war against the Palestinian and Arab people.

The Trump victory in the 2024 election represents the complete failure of the Democratic Party to stop the rise of the ultra-right. In fact, they have contributed to it by adopting much of the program of the extreme right while embracing endless war. Instead of responding to the needs of the people, both the Democrats and the Republicans have moved further and further to the right. Trump’s agenda is the culmination of this right-ward spiral, and his administration will move to make major gains for the billionaire class at the expense of the millions of everyday people in the US and across the world.

There will be lots of Trump supporters in Washington D.C. on January 20th, but there will also be lots of radicals.

In 2016, radicals smashed windows and set vehicles on fire to protest Trump’s inauguration.

I expect much worse this time around.

Sadly, the violence on January 20th will only be a preview of the tremendous chaos that is eventually coming to the streets of America.

There are literally hundreds of groups that are starting to organize a “resistance” to Trump, and they are not messing around.

Brown Sugar Rolls (Chorreadas)

The name for these rolls means “dirty faces,” referring to the dark smudge of brown sugar glaze.

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Yield: 10 rolls

Ingredients

Rolls

  • 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 1/3 cup lard
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1 3/4 cups hot water
  • 1 package active dry yeast
  • Dash of granulated or dark brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees F)
  • 2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 3 3/4 to 4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 egg, slightly beaten

Brown Sugar Glaze

  • 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 2 to 3 teaspoons water

Instructions

Rolls

  1. Place brown sugar, lard and salt in large bowl.
  2. Stir in 1 3/4 cups hot water until brown sugar is dissolved.
  3. Dissolve yeast and granulated or dark brown sugar in 1/4 cup warm water; stir into brown sugar mixture.
  4. Beat in whole wheat flour and enough all-purpose flour to make dough stiff enough to knead.
  5. Turn dough onto lightly floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes.
  6. Place in greased bowl; turn greased side up. Cover; let rise in warm place until double, about 2 hours. Dough is ready if indentation remains when touched.
  7. Line 2 cookie sheets with aluminum foil; grease.
  8. Punch down dough. Turn onto lightly floured surface; knead until smooth. Shape into 10 inch long roll; cut into 10 slices. Shape each slice into smooth ball. Place on foil-covered cookie sheets; flatten into 3 1/2 to 4-inch diameter circles. Cover; let rise until double, about 30 minutes.
  9. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Brush rolls with egg.
  10. Spread Brown Sugar Glaze on centers of rolls.
  11. Make diagonal or crisscross cuts in tops of rolls with tip of sharp knife.
  12. Bake until rolls are brown and sound hollow when tapped, 20 to 25 minutes.
  13. Immediately remove rolls; cool on wire racks.

Brown Sugar Glaze

  1. Mix brown sugar and water until of spreading consistency.

Ex Girlfriend Regrets Asking for Open Relationship

TL:DR

The western backed coups do not have organic support and rely on paid elements.

Long version

Back in the early 1990s, we had a history class. It was run by the PE teacher. He actually became semi famous for something later on (something good). Anyway in year 7 we did some history classes. The focus was on the Roman Empire and the downfall of the Roman Empire.

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main qimg 5e4f58646f811ec8096b878d11a747ad

The Roman Empire post Marian Reforms was pretty much a superpower. The Roman Empire is famous for having one the best-militarized forces in the world for more than 300 years, with highly disciplined troops, loyal generals, and honorable traditions.

Later history would cover Henry VIII and the Plantagenet kings, but that’s a story for another day. The teacher outlined that towards the end of the Roman empire they increasingly relied on Foederati something in the modern age we would consider mercenaries.

What’s wrong with mercenaries? The teacher said the problem with Mercenaries is they fight for money and nothing else so when the going gets tough? They run away. You can’t spend money when you’re dead. Mechwarrior 2 Mercenaries literally has this in it’s 1990s trailer fighting for C-bills (in universe money).

We are seeing and saw with Ukraine. ‘Volunteers’ (mercenaries) who went there ended up leaving shortly after. They had the opition.

Same with SUPER SOLDIER WALLI from Canada

The first comment literally sums it up.

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screen 2024 12 03 15 42 58

So what does this have to do with the western backed coups? Lets go back to what I wrote in the opening.

TL:DR

The western backed coups do not have organic support and rely on paid elements.

When the going gets tough mercenaries/paid elements leave. A real revolution is no picnic.

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main qimg b3101844e95ab968dbe058dd353ab2e1

As such there’s nobody to STAND AND HOLD THE LINE when the going gets tough. Lonely Cantonese Sith Lord wrote an excellent post here about why the Houthis cannot be defeated, they are willing to sacrifice everything. EVERYTHING.

Hong Kong is an excellent case study.

Anybody on the ground will know there were enormous numbers of adverts through media channels like telegram etc offering money to protest and be violent. There were children in school uniforms. They were handed black T-shirts with $500 notes in them. They were mercenaries paid to do something. We saw how ‘riot leaders’ suddenly came into large amounts of cash they couldn’t explain the origins of. Joshua Wong and his $400,000USD he tried to deposit into HSBC. Or his $4million US apartment. Or Ted Hui’s millions.

Joseph Wang himself said he was utterly shocked at how fast the yellow movement crumbled the moment the money stopped flowing. The HKSAR and CPC stopped the inflow of money and the movement pretty much vanished.

The mercenaries on the other hand were fighting against those who would stand against them out of something more important than money. Love them or hate them the white shirts stood against the rioters. I’m a Hakka clansman and I don’t mess with Yeun Long types despite common roots. 😀 there’s also a reason the british Empire in 1899 went to the Eastern Side of the New Territories to raise their flags and not the western side.

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screen 2024 12 03 15 43 29

I literally wrote it myself. Around the end of 2019, it seemed as if the police were losing control as the violence escalated and numerous Hakka men had been attacked. We were seeing on television police men in stretchers after being stabbed and fanatics cheering it on . Loads of us saw this and thought holy fucking shit.

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screen 2024 12 03 15 43 46

We had a second Holy FUCKING SHIT when westerners were cheering it on. I had been attacked a few weeks before. Some of the old men said it might be like the Hakka/Punti clan wars again, where we were going to be exterminated if we lost and it was time to make preparations.

All the men and even the women in the villages even the old men 60+ started martial arts training, some were even talking about moving the clan cannons to a defensive position.

We would stand and DIE fighting to protect what we held dear.

The paid mercenaries don’t have this grit and ultimately they run away because they’re not willing to put EVERYTHING on the line.

This was evident at CUHK and PolyU. They didn’t stand and fight, they tried to escape by any means possible.

You can think of it this way.

You do a young Batman, in a dark Alleyway.

You’d defend your family with all your might even if you don’t like them that much.

But if it was your boss ? Would you fight for him/her?

We Were Soldiers (2002) ♡ MOVIE REACTION – FIRST TIME WATCHING!

Marching to the beat of a different drummer and raising the flag of life

My daughter just couldn’t wait to get up early for kindergarten today.

Big day at school. Her class is to host the raising of the flag ceremony in the morning. It’s a big deal in China. Have youse guys ever witnessed it? It is impressive.

The little tykes wear their uniforms and march to the flag, and the Chinese national anthem is played. They beat their drums and unravel the flag, then mount it and hoist it up. Nicely done.

Anyways, its a normal part of Chinese life.

Here’s a father filming his child’s Kindergarten doing the same performance. This is shao ban I think. I minute long. Worth the time to watch if for anything else the sheer cuteness and guns.

One of the things that I love about China.

Here’s the Chinese military doing the entire ceremony. Damn impressive. I’ll tell you what.  Short video, but shows you what it is like.

You can see how excited she is. She can’t wait to march in front of the school. Her role today is holding the right side of the flag as it is presented. All the kids are so very excited. It’s great!

Today…

No-one cares. Sorry, but most civilised countries have already factored in the ridiculous, immature behaviour of the Orange Toddler. We’ll all smile, shake his hand, tell him how much he’s respected as a businessman, then get on with real-world stuff that’s light-years ahead of his brain-damaged nonsense. He’ll be gone in 4 years, or probably less, and leave nothing more than a shit-stain on world history.

The Mask | SMOKIN!

From personal experience, a single mother of a two-year-old boy really wanted a relationship with me.

She was pretty upfront that she was looking for a man to financially support her and to father more children with her.

I was surprised when she admitted that in her younger party days that she would’ve totally ignored a guy like me, but that now I was her type because I was kind, responsible, and had a good paying career, plus she thought that our kids would be really cute.

It was very clear to her when she told me what all of the benefits that she would receive by dating me. But there was not much that she brought to the table other than offering me sex.

I was kind of young at the time but luckily smart enough to know that it was not a good deal for me.

So I was not scared of dating her, but I did not see the upside for me.

Southern Chili

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999cb5f9be8ed9864de2d50d2364f32a

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground meat
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 3/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 2 cans tomato paste
  • 2 tomato paste cans water
  • 1 (No. 2) can tomato juice
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 2 cans chili beans, drained

Instructions

  1. Brown meat with onion, garlic, 1 1/2 teaspoons of the salt, 1/2 teaspoon of the pepper and chili powder.
  2. Combine remaining salt and pepper with remaining ingredients except beans; add to meat mixture. Bring to a boil; simmer for 2 hours.
  3. Add beans during final 15 minutes of cooking.

Have No Fear, Love

Submitted into Contest #115 in response to: Write a story where a device goes haywire. view prompt

Patrick Samuel

When she opens her eyes, all she sees is gray. The gray of a summer storm right before it breaks. Then she remembers that summer is long gone and that she must get up, no matter how much she longs to bury her face in the pillow and forget about the world for just a moment more.Making breakfast in the dark, to save the generator. Like a moth to a flame, her gaze strays towards the kitchen window and the garden outside. A beautiful garden despite everything, she tells herself. You’d never know anyone is buried there.

*

Lea is still asleep when Natalie comes in with the tray. At least her eyes are closed. She wonders if she put too many pills in last night’s soup. The only idea more frightening is how tempting it gets sometimes to put the whole bottle in.

“When is this fog gonna lift? I’m sick of seeing only gray.”

You’d be sicker if you could see more, Natalie thinks but all she says is: “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I thought I was dead. Or that the rest of the world was. I’m not sure and I don’t know if I even care anymore.”

“Social media still down?” As if she needed to ask.

“What do you think?”

Lea’s eyes are open now, fixated on her sister’s. Natalie forces herself to meet her gaze. Better suspicion than certainty. Don’t let Schrodinger’s cat out of the bag and we can all pretend it never happened.

After just a sip, Lea puts down the cup.

“Bitter?”

“Too hot. I’ll have it later.”

Natalie makes a mental note to put the pills in Lea’s soup from now on.

*

“Got a message from Mom,” Lea says at lunch.

“What does she say?”

“The usual. Hope you’re fine. Love you. Tell Natalie to massage your feet every day until you go to sleep.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“No, she didn’t.” Lea grins. “But you could.”

“Maybe I will,” replies Natalie. “If you finish your soup.”

“You’re worse than Mom, sometimes.”

“Wrong. I’m always worse than Mom. But thanks for the ‘sometimes’ anyway.”

“When is she coming home, do you think?” Lea now asks.

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“You know how vague she gets with specific questions. She’s even worse when texting.”

“Well, she’s not big on texting. Different generations and all that.”

“She could always call. They did have phones when she was our age, didn’t they?”

 

*

After lunch (and she did finish her soup, so Natalie feels obliged to rub her feet – not that she minds) Lea mutters : “Can you believe I got Mom to text me but I can’t even get a single one from Chris?”

To a sixteen year-old princess, even a sick one, the absence of a prince charming at her bedside is more than an insult, it’s the ultimate injury. Natalie is tempted to tell her that Chris got himself a new girlfriend. That he’s gone off to live with her in Japan and has forgotten all about Lea. Anything to get her off the subject.

 

*

She will have the world at her feet, that one, their mother used to say about Lea. Easy enough when the world lies shattered on the floor, Natalie reflects, like the glass bowl she smashed after the last call from Dan.

As if reading her thoughts, or maybe because her mind is still on boyfriends, Lea asks: “Dan hasn’t been around in a while, has he?”

“We broke up,” Natalie says shortly.

“Really?” Lea sounds genuinely surprised.

“Shit happens.” Her hint to drop the subject but for once, Lea is all solicitude.

“When did you guys last spoke?” she asks.

“Some weeks ago.”

“What did he say?”

Natalie takes a deep breath. “He said: ‘Shit’.”

Lea giggles, then realizes she shouldn’t. “Sorry,” she says. “No really, I am. I like Dan. He’s the kind of guy who knows stuff but doesn’t need to brag about it, you know what I mean?”

“I thought he bore you to tears. Like that afternoon we spent at the beach?”

“Please. Like I’m gonna let on when I’m having fun. I don’t even know why I do that, sometimes. Like maybe if I admitted I was enjoying something too much, it would be taken away from me.”

This is the more open Lea has been in ages. Maybe it takes a broken connection to get people talking to each other again.

“We should never have told you that smiling gives you wrinkles.”

“I’d be happy to get wrinkles now. At least it would mean I’ve lived long enough to get them.”

She does smile then, and this time Natalie is not afraid to meet her gaze.

 

*

Once Lea is asleep, Natalie goes down to the kitchen. From the top of the cupboard she retrieves a telephone, reads the new message and starts writing.

 

Their mother kept vague about her job. All the girls knew was that it included “buying and selling“ and traveling to the big city on occasions. She certainly didn’t try to make it sound glamorous, in fact sounded so jaded and weary about it that they learned not to ask too much. Which is actually proving convenient now.

 

October was their mother’s busiest month. That’s when the company held its annual convention, an open door for jokes about Halloween and the true nature of her employers. “The witches brew convention,” as Lea once called it. “Almost to the letter,” Mom said. “Witches crew, then?” Lea said and they both dissolved into a fit of laughter though Natalie failed to see what was so funny.

 

Even as she pit them against one another, their mother encouraged them to stick together. Constant competition was her idea of emulation. Natalie likes to think this was her way of building up their sense of solidarity against adversity. You make use of whatever life throws at you, including what it throws in your face.

 

*

It took Natalie a few days before she thought of retrieving the phone. She should have done it sooner, but there were so many things to deal with and so few she could bear thinking about. Like getting rid of a body before its smell got too strong to hide. Digging a hole big enough in the garden at night, all the time praying the pills she put in the soup were enough to make Lea sleep and not enough to kill her. And trying to retain some pretense of sanity through it all.

 

Then, just when she thought the worst was over, at least for the time being, having to dig up again when she realized where the damn phone was.

 

*

The worst, smell aside and she had a scarf over her nose, was going through her mother’s pockets one by one, feeling the flesh underneath and its texture already changing after just a few days. No more rigor mortis there. Whether this was the effect of the garden soil, the fog or something else, she’d rather not ponder.

 

It took another few days before she could establish a closed network between all three phones, raking her brain for what she could remember from electronic classes and Dan’s passion project, the one he bored her to death talking about on their first evenings together. That’s when she had asked if being a geek was a congenital male trait. “You should be grateful for geeks,” he said. “When you spend nights tracking down a bug, finding a G-spot is like a walk in the park.” That made them laugh, and more than laugh. “Feeling geeky tonight?” became their secret code, an invitation neither could resist.

If he could see her now, she thinks, he would be so proud. Though he would probably point out all the things she could have done better and faster. Just for that, she was almost grateful he wasn’t around.

The last thing he said was shit.

Contrary to what she has let Lea assume, they were not fighting but commenting on the fog that was seeping everywhere, messing up electronics and fucking up with the TV and phone reception.

Then Dan did say shit. As in “Oh Shit! Oh shit, no! Shit –“ and then the scream that seemed to last an eternity but might have been only a couple of seconds before he was cut off.

She stopped trying to call back after the first attempts. Knew from what she could hear on the radio that there was no point. Then the radio went dead too.

 

*

You need to take care of your sister.” She remembers her mother’s words, and how typical that her sister’s needs should become her own. “Lea just hasn’t got your strength.” A compliment doubling up as burden: another responsibility to shoulder, another reason to be grateful for said strength.

 

Not that Natalie minded. From the moment Lea was born, Natalie had doted on her. “This is not a doll we bought you for Christmas,” their mother would say. To five-year old Natalie, Lea was better than a doll and much prettier: all blond hair and green eyes like their mother, while Natalie took after their estranged father as Mom liked to remind her.

She never resented the extra care and attention her little sister required. That Natalie could fend off for herself she also took as a compliment – if one she wasn’t sure she deserved or even want. But she had learned to be grateful for anything that came her way whether or not she had wished for it.

 

*

Natalie takes her mother’s phone and reads Lea’s latest message: “Mom, when are you coming home?”

She starts typing. “Soon.” Pauses, wonders what to add next. Invent a new delay? Searching for inspiration, she browses through old messages. There’s another one from Lea that she missed. Thinking guiltily of her sister awaiting an answer, Natalie opens it. And feels worse than guilt.

Mommy, please come home. I think Natalie is trying to kill me.”

 

*

You need to take care of your sister.

The irony is that, after all she did to protect her from the truth, Lea would not believe it if she told her. Lea doesn’t trust her anymore, provided she ever did. And with that dawning realization, Natalie feels more than guilty or helpless but useless as well.

What would be worse? Telling her their mother is buried in the garden because there was no way to do otherwise, and no time either, not when they were cut off from the rest of the world, which might as well be dead for all she knew, oh and by the way you were right about that too, Lea. Even though you’re half zoned out of your mind all the time with all the medicine I’ve been slipping you – not to kill you, mind you, but to shield you from the truth. Because this is what Mom would have wanted. She said you couldn’t bear the truth.

But did she say that, really? Or is Natalie the one who can’t face the truth? Can’t face anything, not even her own cowardice. It doesn’t take courage to do the things she does. It just takes a steadfast denial of reality under the guise of responsibility. Exchanging one burden for another.

 

What does facing the truth even mean, she wonders. Is the truth some kind of wild animal you can tame with a look, like you’re Queen of the Fucking Jungle? Or do you let it eat you alive like a good Christian martyr? Options are scarce when the only crash course you can get on bravery is from a screen.

 

*

The truth is nothing you’re prepared for. The truth is that connections are just as fragile as bodies and disconnections even messier. The truth is that nobody remains a body for long when exposed to more than they bargained for. The truth is that a fog is not always a fog even when it hides what you need to run from, run faster than you’ve ever ran as if running could put more than distance but light years between perception and reality, running back in space and time, until the truth stops being the truth.

 

The truth is that a house is not a home without a few skeletons in its closets.

She knows what needs to be done, she tells herself. It’s either that or die trying. At this stage, both options hold their own appeal.

 

*

In the fog, the most familiar route looks foreign. A good thing she’s made the trip to the village so often she could do it with her eyes closed – and the temptation is strong to do so, especially when passing by unfamiliar shapes and mounds on the wayside. She knows what they are, would know it by her nose too if it wasn’t protected by her two scarves – one being insufficient to block out the fog and the smell.

 

*

She has her backpack for scavenging groceries, a mission she usually dreads. Inside the silent store, she has to put her mind on pause as she reaches blindly for the nearest shelves, stepping over mounds of bodies and cans, each burst open in their own way, their smells mingling. She shove cans haphazardly in the bag until it’s full. Hoping it’s the last time she has to do this.

 

*

Maybe this is just her passing on the bucket, but she has to bring someone in – someone with the proper authority, like Dr. Carter. He will find the right words, and Lea will believe him.

But no one answers the doctor’s door. The bell doesn’t work and neither does her pounding. She should have known, just as she knows it’s no use insisting.

She contemplates her next move. The scarves won’t protect her for much longer and the temptation is to keep walking into the fog until she can’t walk anymore. She almost considers trying other houses, knowing how futile that is, when her phone buzzes. Lea must be awake.

But it’s not Lea. The caller is “Unknown“.

 

“Hello?” Her voice is muffled through the scarves but she prays it won’t be mistaken for voicemail. “Who’s there? Hello?” She’s frantic with hope, sudden renewed hope pouring like rain on dry land, until she realizes there’s no one on the line.

But there’s still reason to hope. The three bars flashing flashing green on her telephone screen. The first signal she’s had in weeks. Where there is a connection, there is life.

She tries going online. Most of her links are dead except one, a news site that hasn’t been updated in weeks. Still, almost as beautiful as an olive branch delivered by dove.

 

*

Checking her phone as she walks back, eyes on the green bars that have become like a lighthouse in the night. She doesn’t know if it was moving away from the house that got her service, or if in tinkering with the network, she somehow managed to unlock what needed to be. If so, those late night sessions with Dan did pay off. Or maybe she’s a fucking geek genius herself and never knew it. All she knows is that she needs to keep that connection until she gets home.

She arrives to find the whole house in lights, piercing through the fog as if greeting her in victory. Which must mean the power is back on, another cause for rejoicing.

 

*

“Lea?” she calls from the hall, but Lea might still be asleep, unaware of all the lights shining again on them. Natalie drops her bag and starts upstairs, creaking stairs under her giddy step as she tries not to run after all these weeks of waiting, waiting without hope. This is what hell must be like: one big waiting room with no door ever opening.

Or maybe hell is a door opening on what should remain closed.

 

*

Lea lies in bed, eyes open but unseeing, phone still in her hand. Fingers clutched in a death grip on her last connection to life. The pill bottle at the foot of the bed, empty. Natalie wonders how she could have found the strength to get up and retrieve it. Then she remembers Lea’s last message: “I think Natalie’s trying to kill me.” She wouldn’t have drunk her tea, or finished her soup. Probably poured them down the toilet as soon as Natalie left the room. Lea would have been strong enough to get up in her absence and see what the world had become. Or maybe just the garden.

 

Green light flashing through Lea’s fingers: the bars triumphantly indicating connection. Maybe her phone benefited from the same service as Natalie’s, linked as they were by her homemade network. Lea would have clicked hungrily on the first link available. Even weeks-old news would have been news enough for her.

 

*

Lea’s fingers twitch now but it’s the phone again, vibrating. Natalie pries the device from her sister’s cold hand. The bell of a message received, a sound she hasn’t heard in ages. She thinks she hears other sounds too, as if the world was stirring out of its hiding place. Echoes of another time: the front door opening, or did she even close it. The creaking of stairs being climbed. Maybe it’s all in her mind, memories by association. She’s not sure and doesn’t care even if she should. Her eyes are still on Lea’s last message: “Mommy, please come home. I think Natalie’s trying to kill me.”

 

And the answer, just now received: “Have no fear, love. I’m coming to get you.”

The World Is a Ghetto – War | The Midnight Special

What’s all the fuss about? Is nuclear war really that dangerous?

Drago Bosnic, independent geopolitical and military analyst

We’re in the Second Cold War. Those thinking otherwise have probably been living under a rock. Unfortunately, that rock won’t save anyone and we know it by the change in rhetoric. Namely, in previous decades, nuclear war was a mere hypothesis in the minds of most people, an extremely unlikely prospect that we could casually discuss, theorize on, contemplate as to how it would play out, etc. It truly is meticulous work, involving an enormous amount of moving parts and it could even be argued it’s fun, as evidenced by numerous mass media that use it as their main trope. Whether it’s a post-apocalyptic scenario, a modern war that got out of control or something along those lines, it’s quite prominent in movies, TV shows, video games, etc. Now, imagine fan favorites such as the Mad Max franchise, Fallout or Metro series, certain Call of Duty titles, etc. suddenly becoming a reality. It’s certainly a scary thought.

Well, thanks to the warmongering oligarchies in Washington DC and Brussels, this is exactly the scenario we’re facing. And if you think it’s too far-fetched or even impossible, think again. Leaders and top-ranking officials of the most powerful NATO countries openly support long-range strikes on Russia using Western-sourced missiles, operated by American, British and other NATO personnel. This comes despite President Vladimir Putin’s crystal clear warning that Russia would consider the world’s most vile racketeering cartel a party to the conflict and that it would respond accordingly. Worse yet, even after Moscow used a conventionally armed ICBM/IRBM in response to these NATO attacks, the political West only keeps escalating. The purpose of this text is to understand what’s at stake and that if the warmongers, war criminals, plutocrats and kleptocrats have their way, the world will pay the ultimate price.

Let’s imagine that Russia decides it’s sick and tired of over three decades of NATO’s lies, deceit, crawling invasion and now nearly three years of direct attacks and total war. The Neo-Nazi junta keeps launching these Western-sourced missiles and the Kremlin knows who’s behind it. Do you think Russia would use thermonuclear weapons in Ukraine, a land that has belonged to it for over 1,200 years, against the people it considers ethnic Russians (even though they reject this notion)? Even if we ignore these basic facts, the answer is no, as it would be suicidal to fire a nuclear weapon at an area so close to home. The fallout could easily reach any Russian and/or Belorussian territory. Thus, it can be expected to see Moscow use more “Oreshniks” and similar missiles. However, Russia’s updated strategic doctrine also allows the use of such weapons against targets beyond NATO-occupied Ukraine.

Namely, Moscow knows exactly which NATO command centers are used to coordinate attacks on Russia’s undisputed territory and may decide to neutralize them. Missiles such as the “Oreshnik” give it unprecedented non-nuclear strategic strike capabilities, meaning that Russia’s first retaliatory attack should not trigger NATO’s nuclear response. However, the world’s most vile racketeering cartel doesn’t have comparable weapons and could only use nuclear-tipped missiles or bombs. In response to this, the Kremlin deploys its unrivaled strategic arsenal in full force. How long do you think this would last? I’ve recently argued it would be largely over in 15 minutes. Now I’ll explain in detail how. First, the early warning systems (composed of a plethora of land, sea, air and space-based assets) would sound an alarm and the Russian strategic nuclear-armed triad would react immediately.

Composed of Strategic Missile Forces (RVSN), Aerospace Forces (VKS) and Navy (VMF), the Russian triad could deploy at least 5,500 thermonuclear warheads, each of which is orders of magnitude more destructive than the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs, combined. As of October, the RVSN has 772 warheads on over 200 RS-24 “Yars”, 340 on 46 R-36M2 “Voevoda” and 78 single-warhead RT-2PM2 “Topol-M” ICBMs (intercontinental ballistic missiles). The number of strategic HGVs (hypersonic glide vehicles), specifically the “Avangard” is unknown, but is usually thought to be in the dozens. The VKS operates 580 nuclear-tipped cruise missiles (the Kh-102 and several advanced iterations of the Kh-55), deployed on 55 Tu-95MS and 17 Tu-160 strategic bombers, better known as missile carriers in Russian military nomenclature. And last, but certainly not least, the Navy, the most survivable element of any triad.

The VMF operates 15 SSBNs (nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines) carrying 240 SLBMs (submarine-launched ballistic missiles) armed with at least 896 warheads. The grand total is 2,657 thermonuclear warheads ready to go at this very moment. Note that this doesn’t include well over 2,000 tactical nuclear weapons deployed on SSGNs (nuclear-powered guided missile submarines), hypersonic weapons such as the 9M723 used by the “Iskander-M”, the 9-S-7760 “Kinzhal” and numerous other missile types. Altogether, Russia has well over 4,500 warheads ready for both strategic and battlefield use. However, it also has upwards of 1,500 thermonuclear warheads awaiting dismantlement, but which could be returned to service due to NATO aggression and be installed on land-based ICBMs, IRBMs (intermediate-range ballistic missiles), SLBMs, ALCMs (air-launched cruise missiles), etc.

Once again, this is without even considering newer Russian weapons that we know exist (RS-28 “Sarmat” ICBMs, “Avangard” HGVs, “Oreshnik” hybrid/modular IRBM/ICBM/HGVs, the “Poseidon” nuclear-powered, nuclear-armed underwater drones/torpedoes, etc) and those that we don’t know anything about (except that they exist), including experimental, as President Putin himself spoke of “weapons based on new physical principles” on many occasions. However, just to illustrate the destructive power of the new “Sarmat”, consider that it can carry a range of heavy and light MIRVs (multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles). This includes 10-15 heavy warheads or 20+ light ones. The destructive power of heavy warheads is stated to be 750 kilotons (kt) to 1 megaton (Mt) each. Light warheads have a yield ranging from 150 kt to 450 kt, with one kiloton being equal to 1,000 tons of TNT.

Thus, 150 kt is equivalent to 150,000 tons of TNT exploding at once. To put this destructive power into perspective, we can use the “Little Boy” atomic bomb which the US dropped on Hiroshima on 6 August 1945. Namely, it had a yield of 15 kt and it virtually instantly killed around 100,000 people, with at least another 50,000 dying in the aftermath of the explosion. This would mean that the combined yield carried by a single RS-28 missile is up to 750 times greater than that of the Hiroshima bomb. It should be noted that at least 50 of these are being built, as they are slated to replace the aforementioned R-36M2 “Voevoda”. That’s the equivalent of the destructive power of 37,500 Hiroshima bombs. And that’s just 50 missiles, out of well over 300 land-based ICBMs in the Russian military. However, thanks to US/NATO aggression against the world, Moscow might decide to make 100 of these, doubling that destructive power to 75,000 by 2030.

Unfortunately, some completely delusional lunatics at the Pentagon think they can launch a “decapitation strike” on Russia and “ensure” there’s no retaliation. There’s just one “tiny” problem with this – the Russian Navy. Namely, even if the world’s largest country suddenly vanished, its Navy alone could destroy much, if not most of the world. Even just half of its SSBNs, namely the now legendary eight Borei-class subs, carry 16 R-30 “Bulava” SLBMs (each missile armed with up to ten 150 kt thermonuclear MIRVs). I’ll let you do the math on that one. To top it all, the Kremlin’s nuclear triad can also be used even if the entire Russian leadership is neutralized. The system enabling this is called the “Perimeter” (known as the “Dead Hand” in NATO) and is activated automatically in case of an all-out attack on Russia. Perhaps the most dumbfounding fact is that the US military is perfectly aware of all this, but it’s still pushing for escalation.

Some of the world’s most prominent leaders, intellectuals and experts have been warning about the dangers of nuclear warfare. Perhaps the best example of this is the message conveyed by the late Fidel Castro in an interview with the globally renowned Professor Michel Chossudovsky. Namely, President Castro said that “in a nuclear war the ‘collateral damage’ would be the life of all humanity”. It doesn’t get much simpler than this and yet it’s 100% on point. What’s more, the mainstream propaganda machine is also perfectly aware of this, as evidenced by the BBC’s latest piece on Russia’s nuclear arsenal. Obviously, because it’s the BBC, it cannot do even this without ludicrous lies, as they’re claiming the information came from an “anonymous Russian deserter” who supposedly revealed “war secrets”, even though this information is publicly available (if one is bothered to look for it, that is).

Source: InfoBrics

Apocalypto (2006)______Best Movie Scene [1080p].

This is the one of the biggest news events of the year!

Right off the bat, before even taking office, Trump makes a FAR dumber move than the Biden administration.

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main qimg fc7f588d2b5138bf307e36a8ffbb69e4

Dumber that the Biden administration. Those are words one wouldn’t expect to hear very often!

The Biden administration put its head in the sand like an ostrich and pretended BRICS and de-dollarization isn’t happening. Not as wise as not using the dollar as a weapon and an exploitative fiat system enriching dollar account holders at the expense of the rest of the world by exporting inflation through reckless printing. But still better than something Trump just did.

Now Trump did something FAR dumber. Trump just indicated to all BRICS nations and everyone in the world, America is actually threatened by BRICS.

Now every country knows America needs everyone to trade using the dollar than they need to trade with America.

Now they know they can collectively bargain to make deals with the United States that puts the US at a severe disadvantage.

Instead what Trump should have done is sell the dollar’s usage — promise not to sanction and freeze assets, unfreeze Russian assets, restore trade relations with all countries including Russia, Iran, Syria, North Korea, Cuba etc., rollback sanctions, allow Fed To be audited, audit Fort Knox be audited, back the dollar with some physical commodity like gold or shale oil and these measures alone with ensure dollar with remain a reserve currency for at least half a century more.

But nope. Got to play the big ego.

This is by FAR the biggest blunder of the Trump administration and Trump is not yet even in office!


Basic human psychology — no one likes to live under threats and fear.

Countries will now question why should they trade in currency of a country that threatens them like this?

They will not only accelerate de-dollarization but they will also they collectively bargain along the way.

Take a look at my post written in summer 2022.

Aging very nicely.

Since then

  • Saudi Arabia and Iran have made peace brokered by China
  • BRICS have expanded to 11 and bow 25+ and more on the way.
  • India and China have calmed their border disputes.

I said the whole global south will be an a place to collectively bargain against the west sometime in the future. The world is slowly but surely consolidating in that direction.


Trump’s tweet was so stupid, I wondered if it’s actually real.

CNN confirms the words are certainly real.

Welcome to the Asian Century.

The Rise of BRICS and the Emerging Multipolar World

A new age of international relations is dawning.

With the West accounting for a declining share of global gross domestic product and the world becoming increasingly multipolar, countries are jostling to establish their positions in the emerging order. This includes both the emerging economies — represented by the recently expanded BRICS grouping — that seek a leading role in writing the rules of the new order and the smaller countries attempting to cultivate relationships that can safeguard their interests.

With the BRICS, what began as an asset class has become a symbol of the yearning for a more broadly representative global order, a hedge against Western-led institutions and a means of navigating growing geopolitical uncertainty. All this has proved highly attractive. Earlier this year, the BRICS expanded from five countries (Brazil, China, India, Russia and South Africa) to nine (adding Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran and the United Arab Emirates). And almost three dozen more countries — including NATO member Turkey, close U.S. partners Thailand and Mexico and Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim country — have applied to join.

While the diversity of the grouping’s members (and applicants) highlights the broad appeal of the BRICS+, it also creates challenges. These are countries with very different political systems, economies and national goals. Some are even at odds with each other: China and India have been locked in a military standoff in the Himalayas for over four years, following China’s stealth encroachments on Indian territory.

Translating shared interests into a common plan of action and becoming a unified force on the global stage was difficult even when the BRICS had just five members. With nine — and possibly more — member countries, establishing a common identity and agenda will require sustained effort. But other multilateral groupings that are not formal, charter-based institutions with permanent secretariats — such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, the Group of 20 and even the Group of Seven — also struggle with internal divisions.

Moreover, the BRICS have demonstrated considerable resilience. Western analysts have been predicting from the start that the grouping would unravel or drift into irrelevance. Yet this month’s BRICS+ summit in Kazan, Russia — the first since the expansion — may well bring movement toward further enlargement, as it underscores the West’s failure to isolate Russia following its 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

This is not to underestimate the challenge of cohesion. The grouping’s founding members do not even agree about its fundamental objectives: Whereas China and Russia want to spearhead a direct challenge to the United States-led world order, Brazil and India seek reforms of existing international institutions and appear uneasy about any anti-Western orientation.

In this disagreement, however, the enlargement might tip the scales. Six of the group’s nine members, including all four of the new additions, are formally part of the nonaligned movement, and two (Brazil and China) are observers. This suggests that there will be considerable internal pressure for the BRICS+ to chart a middle ground, focusing on democratizing the global order, rather than challenging the West.

That said, when it comes to fostering mutual trust with developing countries, the West has not been doing itself any favors lately. On the contrary, its weaponization of finance and seizure of the interest earned on frozen Russian central-bank assets have caused deepening disquiet in the non-Western world. As a result, a growing number of countries seem interested in exploring alternative arrangements, including new cross-border payment mechanisms, with some also reassessing their reliance on the U.S. dollar in international transactions and reserve holdings.

All of this could aid the larger designs of Russia and China, two natural competitors that have become close strategic partners partly in response to U.S. policy. China, in particular, stands to gain, such as from increased international use of the renminbi. Russia now generates much of its international export earnings in renminbi and stores them mostly in Chinese banks, thereby effectively giving China a share of the returns. China’s ultimate goal — which Western financial warfare is inadvertently aiding — is to establish an alternative renminbi-based financial system.

The BRICS are already engaged in institution-building, having established the New Development Bank — conceived by India and headquartered in Shanghai — in 2015. The NDB is not only the world’s first multilateral development bank created and led by emerging economies; it is also the only one whose founding members remain equal shareholders with equal voice, even as more countries join. By contrast, the U.S. is the dominant shareholder and holds veto power in the World Bank.

The expanded BRICS+ boast formidable global clout. The grouping dwarfs the G7, both demographically (with nearly 46% of the world’s population, compared to the G7’s 8.8%) and economically (accounting for 35% of global GDP, compared to the G7’s 30%). Its economies are also likely to be the most important source of future global growth. Furthermore, with Iran and the UAE having joined their oil-producing counterparts Brazil and Russia as members, the BRICS+ now account for about 40% of crude-oil production and exports.

Yes, the group faces significant challenges, not least uniting to become a meaningful global force with defined (and realistic) political and economic objectives. But they also have the potential to serve as a catalyst for a long-overdue revamping of global governance so that it better reflects 21st-century realities.

Brahma Chellaney – professor emeritus of strategic studies at the New Delhi-based Center for Policy Research and fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy in Berlin.

Japan Times

Baloney:

One wonders how much AP was paid to publish this empty hype of another U.S. military industrial boondoggle that is clearly not working as advertised.

The Navy is replacing the non-functioning cannons of its three $7.5 billion(!)  piece Zumwalt Class ships with launchers for missiles that do not exist.

Key quote:

> A U.S. hypersonic weapon was successfully tested over the summer and development of the missiles is continuing. The Navy wants to begin testing the system aboard the Zumwalt in 2027 or 2028, according to the Navy.

If a U.S. hypersonic missiles had really been ‘successfully tested’ during the summer 2024 why would it take three or four more years to even start ‘testing’ it from a naval platform?

2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968) – MOVIE REACTION – First Time Watching

Some more pictures out of my archives

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Sometime you wonder how just much separation there is between some humans and animals.

In the summer 1986 I was a Policeman stationed in the western Sydney suburb of Blacktown.

Sometime after 10pm on Sunday February 2nd we responded to a radio call directing us to a location where a woman had been heard screaming being dragged into light coloured vehicle. Plenty of Police attended however due to the scant details and vehicle description this vehicle and its occupants were not located.

On the following Tuesday I’m again working with another young officer and we returned to the station for lunch. As we walked in the switch board officer advised us that he’d just received a call from a local farmer indicating that he had found the body of a naked woman in his cow paddock.

We advised detectives and went out to this secluded area which was a local ‘lover’s lane’.

We met the farmer and he took us to a stand of trees in the middle of this paddock. What I saw there was a woman’s body lying face down. Her head was barely connected to her body by the spinal cord. There were various significant cuts and lacerations to her hands and body. And from her neck to her ankles were covered in cigarette burns. It was awful. I have never forgotten that sight and I doubt I ever will.

Detectives attended and soon after one of the Australia’s largest murder investigations was launched.

It transpired that on that fateful Sunday night a bright and beautiful young nurse caught the train from the City to Blacktown. Because a payphone was vandalised she was unable to contact her father for a lift home so she began to walk.

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main qimg 5ff70d61761ee280e8e72ba260a916c8 lq

Anita Cobby.

She was abducted by five worthless mongrels and what then transpired was horrific.

They drove to a nearby petrol station and while three of these low lives sat on her across the back seat they used money from her purse for fuel and cigarettes. She continued fighting with them causing the serious defensive wounds to her hand and fingers. They then drove her to this remote ‘lover’s lane’ where she unsuccessfully tried to escape a number of times. She had been raped repeatedly and you can only imagine the terror she felt on that longest of nights. She eventually fled from them into that paddock but was tracked down at the tree stand where she was further abused and ultimately had her throat cut.

This was without a doubt the most horrendous sight I endured throughout my entire career.

The beautiful young nurse’s name was Anita Cobby and the full story is here.

The five animals that tortured, raped and killed her were John Travers, Michael Murdoch and Murphy brothers Michael, Gary and Leslie. They’re all in gaol marked never to be released.

I hope they eventually rot in hell.

I was at the library in town, and I live in the south so it’s *mind numbingly hot* here. I was about maybe 12? Anyway, I was wearing some shorts and a tank top, as again it’s boiling hot, and I had filled out by now (thanks puberty at 9), and this dude comes in and touches my back and all of my nerves are on high alert. He leans in and whispers “I’m gonna see you later” and fear gripped my heart. I managed to whisper “No. You won’t.” And he just sounds sinister and tells me “Yes I will. I’ll be waiting right outside the door.” And then he left. I stayed at the library until they closed a few hours later. I’m assuming he got bored of waiting (thank the lord) and left, so thankfully nothing nefarious happened. It was absolutely inappropriate and terrifying. I’m glad I got out of there safe. Even so though, I didn’t visit the library for months after that, scared he would come back.

3:15 PM EST SUNDAY — We CHOSE to Run on Solar Battery Power Tonight . . .

UPDATED 3:15 PM EST SUNDAY -- We CHOSE to Run on Solar Battery Power Tonight . . .

As regular readers know, we installed a solar power system up here at the house in Pennsylvania.  The learning curve has been sharp.

We have 11,000 watts (22 individual panels at 530 watts each) of solar panels at 48 volt output each.  They go into two (2) mppt charger/controllers which then go into a 30 kilowatt hour EG4 battery bank @48 volts.

From the battery bank, two 4-ought copper wires go to each of two 6800 watt inverters.  The Inverters synch with each other, so the sine wave is pure 60Hz, just like normal grid power.

The 6800 watt inverters can EACH handle a needed “surge” of 8500 watts for 30 min or up to 12,000 watts (each) for one minute.

No aspect of this house, at any point, can ever come near that kind of power surge demand.

As I type this story at 8:46 PM eastern time, we have the gas furnace running, the front porch light and rear deck light on, my desk lamp, a light in the dining room on, the under-cabinet LED’s in the kitchen on, the big screen TV and home theater system in the living room, all operating, and the total energy demand of the house is only 1.7 kwh.

In every regard at this moment, life goes on here as if nothing at all is different from normal.

At that rate of power consumption, we have 15 hours of full power available from the battery bank.   When we go to sleep and turn off the TV, lights, etc., the draw will go lower.

Twelve hours from now, the sun will be up and the solar array will begin generating power.

Unpleasant Surprises

Once the system became operational the first big unpleasant learning curve item was the voltage coming from the solar array.

The 22 panels are divided into two electrically-separate arrays of 11 panels each.  Each single array is wired in SERIES, so each of the eleven panels at 48 volts each is added to the voltage total going into the mppt charger controllers.  48 volts times 11 panels would mean a maximum voltage output of 528 volts.   Except we weren’t getting that much; at least not consistently.   We were actually averaging about 193-208 volts per eleven panels.

Well, that just wasn’t enough “punch”  to charge the battery bank in any speedy way.   It could put maybe 2-3kwh into the battery bank at peak, maybe charging it by ten to fifteen percent over an entire day.   WAY INSUFFICIENT.

We found out that solar panels have a nasty aspect to the way they handle voltage.  The entire array self-limits to the output of the lowest performing panel!

So if ten of the panels are in full, bright, sunshine, but one panel is in the shade, the voltage from the ten in the sunshine would only be equal to that of the panel in the shade.

In order to get around this, we had to go buy 22 “Optimizers;” one for each solar panel.  Those optimizers were $50 each (x22).  They attach to the rear of each solar panel and accept into them the positive (output) from that single panel.

The Optimizer then connects __its__ positive output to the next optimizer on the next panel and so on.   By using these optimizers, we work-around the voltage limiting of the poorest-performing panel.

We finished installing them around 2:30 this afternoon, and the sun, at least up here in northeast Pennsylvania, was already west of the southeast-facing panels.  At this time of day in the past, we were luck to get 0.5kwh  to 0.8kwh from the panels, but TODAY, it was up around 2.0 kwh.    The voltage was also very much improved, over 500 volts.

So tomorrow, which is expected to be a clear day here, we will get our first real look at what the solar array can actually do, now that the learning curve is over and the optimizers are all in.

As such, we decided to run-down the 30kwh battery bank tonight, deliberately, by shutting off the power pass-through from the local electric company.  No grid power at all is coming into this house, and it will remain that way until tomorrow morning.

On any regular day, this house routinely uses 50kwh.   That’s a LOT of energy, but we’re spoiled by having grid power.   Realizing that the ENTIRE battery bank can only provide 30kwh, (and you can’t run it down to zero) our lives will be hugely different if the only power we have to rely upon is solar.   It will be bare essentials only: Refrigerator, freezers maybe a light on.   But if the solar can recharge itself enough each day, then we’d have more access to the nicer things we are spoiled with.

So tonight is the test to see “what’s what” with this new system.  How much does it power, for how long, in real life circumstances, in the cold of winter when the temp outside is 30°, and dropping to 20° overnight.

I thought about buying a second 30 kwh battery bank but what good would that be if the solar array can’t fully charge even one in a single day?  Besides, that battery bank is way expensive (~$8600.) and I don’t have that kind of money laying around to just go buy it.  I refuse to go into debt for it, so right now, I have what I have and that’s it.

Yes, I have a gasoline generator and spare fuel for it.   But that fuel is precious and the generator guzzles about one gallon per hour.  So when the gasoline runs out  — and if we’re in a SHTF situation where there is no gasoline to even be purchased — We have to know NOW what we can and cannot do with solar power.  Hence, tonight’s big “test.”

I’ll let you know how it goes.

UPDATE 7:30 AM SUNDAY MORNING

I got up at 7:22.  It was 16° outside.  The battery bank is down to 46% because my wife needs an oxygen concentrator on all the time and it ran all night at 300 watts.   The math is simple: 300w for twelve hours equals 4.2KW

The sun is almost up, but as of 7:30 AM, the solar panels had not yet begun to send any meaningful power to the mppt charger/controllers.

By 8:20 AM, the batteries were down to 42% but solar panels had begun sending energy into the system.  0.8kw at 192 volts.   We __are__ getting sporadic Over-voltage alerts from the Schneider mppt charger controllers, but each time, that clears within seconds.

So now that the sun is visibly over the mountain to my east, we should start getting good solar generation into the system, which should charge the battery rack.  We’ll see.

You know, I did the math last night as I was laying in bed, about my wife’s Oxygen concentrator. 300 watts an hour to run times twenty four hours is 7.2kw.   About one-quarter of my battery bank capacity.

This is a problem.  How do I tell my wife she can’t use the oxygen machine if we’re in a SHTF situation???    I just can’t do that.

Really hoping the solar array does its thing today.

———– MORE:

We are getting over-voltage alerts from the Schneider mppt charger/controllers.   They are rated at 600 volts.  The system is not supposed to be sending more than 528 volts but the mppt charger/controllers are alerting to over-voltage.

In fact, they just went into SHUT DOWN for self-protection.

We checked the software and they are set to alert of the voltage exceeds 585 volts for ten seconds or more.

The reporting from the mppt controllers is showing voltage around 200 volts (still), so this over-voltage does not make any sense.  

We were told that in very cold weather, the panels __may__ give off higher voltage than typical.   So my son is out there right now removing one panel from each of the two arrays.  That will drop the overall voltage by at least 48 volts and we’ll see if that solves the over-voltage situation.

UPDATE 9:41 AM EDT —

The equipment I am using is:

SCHNEIDER XW-PRO 6848 INVERTERS (2)

 

SCHNEIDER MPPT-100-600 CONTROLLERS (2)

 

EG-4  30.72 kwh Battery Rack:

 

We went back into the Owners manual for the MPPT Charger Controllers and saw another big surprise: They can handle 600 volts, BUT . . . .  they won’t charge from 550 to 600 volts!   Look:

mppt voltage chart surprise
mppt voltage chart surprise

The voltage needs to be LESS THAN 550 volts in order for them to charge!  So this is yet another unwelcome surprise.

As mentioned earlier, my son went out and took one panel off each array – bypassed it in the wiring – to bring down the voltage.  We _are__ getting some charging now, but the max output we’ve seen this morning from the solar panels is only 4kw. Look:

4kw max output 12 01 2024
4kw max output 12 01 2024

This from a solar array that is __supposed to__ max out at 11kw (10kw now that two panels are removed).

We will monitor the system on and off throughout today to get a better idea of the actual performance, but I’ve got to tell ya, I think we got snookered as to the real performance of these solar panels.  Maybe I’m wrong, but I have this feeling the panels are __not__ what they claim to be.

 

UPDATE 1:10  PM EST —

So we’re eating “Brunch” which was really breakfast: Scrambled eggs, Jones Sausage, toasted white bread, and orange juice, when we hear a shotgun blast outside; really close to our property.   It’s hunting season and it is not unusual at all to hear distant shotgun or perhaps rifle fire.  But this was close.   Then, we hear a second shotgun blast.

Since nothing hit the house, we’re OK; nothing to do about it because we know it’s hunters.

I go out on my rear deck to smoke and as I look across the road, I see three guys in hunter orange clothing on the hill just up from my property.   I called out “Hey guys, what’d you get?”   They replied “A big Doe.”

The Deer is at the end of the red arrow.

Hunters Bag Doe Across From House
Hunters Bag Doe Across From House

 

Then one of the guys told me, “My 7 year old got him” and sure enough, one of the guys in Hunter Orange was this little kid, with a squeaky voice, all excited that he got a deer.”

It was great.   A father teaching his son what it takes to actually survive in this world.

They took a few minutes to gut-it right there on the hill, then apparently they called a friend who came down my road with a pick-up truck where they loaded it in the back and off they went.

Ahhhhh country life.

Back to the solar situation . . . . As of 1:04 PM EST, at peak sunshine for today, we only got a maximum of 5kw output from the solar panels.   That is a huge disappointment from an array rated at 10kw.

The battery Bank is only up to 52% charge, up from the 40% it was at as the sun began to generate electric in my solar panels.  Twelve percent charge, so far, is woefully inadequate to the survival of me and my family.

WOEFULLY inadequate.

So my son and I will wait until the time of day when the solar panels are providing nothing to the charge, and we decided we will intentionally power-up the GENERATOR to see how long it will take to fully charge the battery bank while still supplying the house.

By the end of today, we will know we used X amount of power on a typical day, we got X amount of charge from the panels on a reasonably sunny day – albeit with intermittent cloud cover, and the generator had to run for X hours (on X amount of gasoline) to fully charge it the rest of the way.

Then we know how much time we have to survive – given the gasoline reserve we have, if everything goes to hell and even if gasoline is not available.  Right now: We would survive not too long at all.  

It’s a very sobering realization to have this fact-based assessment of my family’s ability to survive.  Very sobering indeed.  Frightening, actually.

UPDATE 3:15 PM —

At about 2:00, we noticed there was more power coming OUT of the battery bank than going in from the solar array, so I said to my son, let’s go hook the generator up to charge the batteries now while we still have sunlight.  This way, we get to see how long it will take to charge them with the generator.  He agreed.

We go hook up the Westinghouse 12,000/15,000 generator that I have used in the past to power the house when the grid was down.   We go to start it.  It cranks . . . . slowly, then stops.  Try again. Click. Click.  No cranking.

We both said “Dead battery.”   SO he gets the NICCO “Genius Charger out of the house and hooks it up.  Almost immediately, it shows FULLY CHARGED.

Uh Oh.   If the battery is fully charged, then maybe the starter motor is bad????

We bypass the starter relay to test it without the relay, same thing, click, click.

SO we go get jumper cables from my truck, and bring out a new 12 volt car battery.  As we go to hook it up, I notice that the fuel line valve is ON.    I never shut of off the last time I used the genrator.  so for months, the gasoline has been dripping into the carburetor and evaporating.   UH OH, the carburetor could be full of varnish.

We hook the car battery up and the generator cranks just fine.  Doesn’t start.   I press start again, and it turns over and begins running just fine.  A bunch of blue smoke came out at start-up, likely all the evaporated gasoline gack in the carburetor.

We tell the inverters to begin using the generator to charge the batteries, and they start trying to pull like 60 amps from it.  WAM. Tripped the breaker.

So we had to go into the solar software to tell the inverters to only charge at 50% of the max charge rate.   RE-initiated the charging and everything seems fine.

At 2:06 PM we began charging the battery bank which was at about 50%.  By 3:12 this afternoon, an hour and six minutes. the battery bank is now at 76%.   So 26% charge in about an hour.  That’s good.  Another hour and we’ll be up around 95% and ready for another 24 hour period of running just on solar.  We won’t do that; we’ll go back onto the grid.

Today we learned that the charging circuit had to be backed down, and also learned we need a new battery on the generator.

It’s a process.   Better we learn now, than when the SHTF.

SOME DIRECT ANSWERS  4:05 PM EST —

I keep reading in the comments area that I should have a wood-burning stove.  I HAVE ONE!   It’s been here for years.   I have maybe one cord or a cord-and-a-half of firewood outside.  I’ve been wondering if maybe I should get more?

The stove is in the living room.  When it’s on, the living room cooks up to 80+ degreees, but the REST of the house does not share that warmth.  the rest of the house gets downright chilly because the thermostat is in the living room.

I routinely use ceiling fans in the living room to dissipate the heat into the rest of the house, but if electric is not available, the rest of the house will go cold without the fans moving the heat.

I also keep reading about my water heater.  I have a TANKLESS water heater.  It turns on when a faucet is turned on.  It uses propane to heat the water in the water pipe, so there is no storage tank to constantly keep heated.

I have a gas fired stove and oven, also uses propane.

I have four 150 gallon propane tanks, which the local gas company fills to 100 gallons each, so as to allow for safe expansion.  That means I have 400 gallons of propane, probably 350 now since last top-off.  This propane fires the stove, the oven, the hot water heater,  the furnace and the clothes dryer.

I have an outdoor propane barbecue grill with three spare tanks of propane.

I have a refrigerator, a small freezer in the laundry room, and two large freezers in other areas of the property.

So the electric I have or am able to generate, would need to supply the refrigerator and three freezers at minimum, and my wife’s oxygen concentrator, which is on 24/7 and uses 300 watts. and maybe the well pump once in awhile if the house calls for more water.   That’s NOT a big demand on electric as far as my thinking goes.  Maybe my thinking is wrong.

I unplugged the two satellite uplinks last night just to get a reading and was surprised they pull about 60 watts each.  If I shut down the radio show computer rack and the outbound internet connections and router, that will drop some more watts.

It’s just really surprising to see just how much electric we use AND TAKE FOR GRANTED, that we flatly will not be able to use in a SHTF scenario.

This whole practice run has been a gigantic eye-opener!

Trump Will Renegotiate the World – Eric Weinstein

Canada, UK, and France are not superpowers. There are only three superpowers: USA, Russia, and China.

USA is the least honourable, least reliable, least friendly of the three.

China is the most honourable, most reliable, and most friendly.

  • It has fought no wars since 1979. No other world power in human history has been so peaceful for so long.
  • It helps other countries build their infrastructure through the Belt and Road Initiative. Over 150 countries participate in the BRI.
  • It leads several major economic alliances, including BRICS and SCO. Over 30 countries wish to join.
  • When the West hoarded its vaccines during the pandemic, China stepped forward to help poor countries vaccinate.

I dont think individual companies can do much other than adding the tariff to the sale price of their exports to USA.

In Trump 1.0, Chinese companies absorbed 10% of tariff (average) & added 90% to the sale price. At the end, it was American consumers who paid 90% of the tariff. That was 1 reason why USA suffered inflation.

Or companies can find another buyer & stop selling to USA.

To more effectively counter Trump’s crazily high tariff, it has to be done at the national level by Central gov. Because the Central can strategically target what hurts USA the most. So as to force USA to negotiate. So that China can bargain.

Some companies still will get hurt by Trump’s tariff. But collectively China will get a bargain.

So far, China has done 1 thing to counter Trump 2.0 tariff:

Starting 2024/12/1, China will reduce/cancel tax refund on certain exports from 13% to 9% eg aluminum & steel. This cut accounts to 6.8% of China’s total tax refund.

The purpose of tax refund is to encourage manufacturers to export. With reduced/cancelled tax refund, manufacturers will add the lost revenue to the export price ie US buyers will pay more … Reduce/cancel tax refund = China gov saves money. But = tariff to US. haha. Just a different name.

Trump promotes made-in-USA by banning import of Chinese green energy products eg solar panel, battery, EV etc. But making green energy products requires aluminum & steel.

Refining aluminum requires lots of electricity. China’s green electricity is already well established. But not the West yet as of 2024. Trump 1.0 continued to buy Chinese aluminum. Trump 2.0 may have to continue to buy Chinese aluminum too, but at a higher price as a result of China’s tax refund. haha.

I think China will do more to counter Trump 2.0 tariff. Just watch.

An united Europe was that country.

Finance and tech from Western Europe, agriculture from Ukraine, natural resources from Russia.

That’s why the US refused Russian bid to join NATO and EU, attacked the Euro currency with wars, destablized the middle east to create a constant flow of refugees, organized an anti-Russian color revolution and coup in Ukraine, installed an American as head of EU, pushed NATO to threaten Russia, and blew up the Nord Stream pipieline when they wanted to negotiate an end to the war.

They say it’s an American strategic mistake to push Russia and China together, but maybe the strategic goal was to deal with Europe first, China later.

It’s classical divide and conquer.

Hypersonic Missiles are missiles that can attain speeds of Mach 5 or above (6000+ kph) without the influence of Gravity

Note the word – WITHOUT THE INFLUENCE OF GRAVITY

This means

Every Ballistic Missile attains Hypersonic Speed, so all Ballistic Missiles are Hypersonic

Why?

Because it is launched by a very powerful rocket into very high altitudes , often into space and then they power back down to earth and are under the influence of gravity


Hypersonic Missiles referred to in the recent context of the Ukrainian War are not Ballistic Missiles

They are cruise missiles which are launched with powerful rockets until a certain altitude is reached (Maybe 30–50 metres) but where you have engines generating sufficient torque to propel the missile to it target

Ideally the Engines that generate thrust forces capable of propelling a missile at Hypersonic speeds are called SCRAMJET or RAMJET Engines

So attaining Hypersonic speed is not difficult

It is MAINTAINING and MANEUVERING at hypersonic speeds that is the key behind making Hypersonic missiles

The Technology behind Hypersonic Missiles is actually called Hypersonic G&T (Glide and Torque) Equilibrium Control

This Technology prevents the Missile from getting shattered to pieces when it changes positions as it travels in its trajectory to hit the final target

Without this, the missile being exposed to such tremendous forces can get crunched if it changes positions mid air and Missiles do this every few seconds for a precise strike

Imagine driving at 240 kmph on a highway and suddenly shifting the steering by 15 degrees. The Car would spin like a coca cola can due to the sheer torque and come crashing to the ground with the driver dead

You need a very rigid control to manage this feat


Nations need only Powerful Rockets to make Ballistic Missiles

However they need to make Ramjet and Scramjet engines & the HGTEC technology to make hypersonic missiles

As on date only three nations have indigenous technology in all the five areas – Fuels, Rockets, Scramjet, Ramjet & HGTEC

Russia, USA, China

North Korea & Iran have access to all five areas but the HGTEC technology is Russian

India has access to Four Areas but only Two Areas are fully Indigenous. India has access to Ramjet & Scramjet technology of the Russians and no access to HGTEC

The staff at the ICU at Swedish Hospital in Seattle turned off my wife’s ventilator to see if she could be weaned off the vent, and then went out to lunch.

A person on a ventilator is generally drugged into unconsciousness and their hands are strapped to the bedrails to keep them from trying to pull the endotracheal tube out, so my wife was only semiconscious while they did this. The idea is to watch her for 30 minutes to see if she is breathing adequately without help from the vent, and if so they take out the E.T. tube and wake her up.

After 30 minutes it was clear that she was struggling to breathe. I asked the nurse to turn the vent back on. But they can’t. Only the respiratory therapist can, and they weren’t answering their page. I asked them to call the supervisor of the respiratory therapists, but they didn’t answer their page either. I asked the nurse to call the hospitalist, a physician, to turn the vent back on. He came, and avered that he could turn on the vent, but didn’t want to, because it was the respiratory therapist’s job.

Nurses and hospitalist all agreed that my wife was in distress. She was sweating and gasping and her blood oxygen saturation was falling. The hospitalist tried to “reassure” me that she was not in imminent danger of dying.

After an hour or more, the respiratory therapist came to turn on the vent. I sat calmly while she did the adjustments, and then asked if I could talk to her in the hall for a moment. Needless to say I tore her a new asshole about not answering her pager. I got a quiet attaboy from the nurses for reaming her out.

My mom and I opened a real estate office in 1994. Within 2 years, we were one of the largest in our area. One of our agents came to us and asked to buy the business. We verbally agreed, but before we could write anything up, she proceeds to tell everyone in the office all the changes she was going to make under her “new regime”. Apparently nobody liked it. Nearly everyone quit within a week. Once everyone was gone, it was just her, another agent and my mom and I. We came in one morning and their desks were cleared out. They had emptied out their desks overnight and left a note that they were quitting and would go out on their own. Leaving us high and dry with an office that went from incredibly successful to one that was tanking quickly. We pulled it out of the fire, but it’s never been the same. All because of one person.

Tell Me Something Good – Rufus | The Midnight Special

The Good Girls Of Estheria

Submitted into Contest #115 in response to: Write a story where a device goes haywire. view prompt

Olisa Okoye

All fifty girls in the sanctuary got out of their beds in a frenzy. The cables plugged into their temples throbbed throughout the night and nobody knew why, but it became the major topic for discussion at the cafeteria.

 

“Me thinks it’s some kind of fault from the tower,” said Glen, a short girl with a dark bob.

 

Her small frame and coy persona made it easier for the girls to dismiss her as usual.

 

“I felt a throbbing in me fore’ead” Esmeralda whispered.

 

Esmeralda’s green eyes twinkled in a slight craze. She demanded an explanation because It was the most interesting thing to take place at the shelter since last autumn. Unlike other days, there was excitement in the air. The boredom of young females was replaced by a thirst for gossip as every unit and every girl was tuned in to the indistinct chatter. At least that was until Ina resumed. Then the talking came to a halt.

 

They all fell silent and turned their heads to stare at Ina, a mop-stick of a girl with turquoise blue eyes and the lightest skin. Her white tunic was almost too big for her thin frame. Demure in her disposition, she walked silently down the hall and lowered her eyes to avert the glares from the other girls. She had a striking and spotless face, save for the scar on her right temple. This is what the girls were glaring at.

 

Ina stopped at the glass entree table and played around with the interactive surface until she found something that captured her fancy.

 

“Such a shame” Esmeralda whispered.

 

 “She could have been selected,” another girl added.

 

The girls at Esmeralda’s table looked on Ina with pity as she took her tray of greens and settled down by herself in the corner. Ina had become an outcast within the last month. She was marked for bad behaviour and for not adhering to the protocol of the shelter. The protocol was their law. It kept the girls safe. It made them smart and perfect. It was there to mold each one of them into the prototype, Esther. A prototype that Professor Heinrich spent years trying to mold.

 

Professor Heinrich created the shelter to make the perfect world. Where wars do not exist. Where people will think and frame clever ideas and contribute to society. Where nobody will be poor and nobody richer than the next. A world that excluded what he regarded as the main cause of pathology in society-

 

 Inequity.

 

The fifty girls of the sanctuary were his first sample. So far all of them showed signs of compliance until Ina painted something extraordinary during her art class. It was a portrait of a boy.

 

Ina being a talented painter could recreate the dimensions of any object in her sight on paper. Usually she would convey something precise. As was required of the girls, her art usually depicted a clear idea and a message that was easy to interpret. But that day, what she painted was out of the ordinary.

 

The portrait had dimensions and highlights to bring life to this bright face. His eyes had a sparkle in them. They conveyed something that nobody had ever seen before in art-

 

Emotion.

 

She had never met a boy in her life. In their world, the male should not exist. This innocent act was seen as a radical deviation from protocol. Ms Louise, a short plump matron, was conducting her usual rounds, inspecting each of the girls’ works when she came across Ina’s painting. She stood still for a second with a face expressing disgust and disdain. She thought it best to consult the Head Matron Teresa, a stone faced woman with an intimidating demeanour.

 

Teresa didn’t speak much. Her eyes said enough. She stood tall, with thinning dark grey hair and carried a cane in her left hand at all times which according to rumours, she did not hesitate to use. Many stories about Teresa had been circulating the shelter. Some said you would turn to stone if she looked at you long enough. Some said she slept with her eyes wide open. Some said it was her cane that could turn you to stone. And so none of the girls would dare get a disciplinary mark from Teresa.

 

Nobody expected Ina would be the first to get in a conflict with Teresa.

 

Teresa seized Ina’s hand In an instant and dragged her to the disciplinary room. A while after, orders were given to seize the painting and destroy it.

 

Where could this concept for the painting have come from? Her instructors thought.

 

It was a mind boggling phenomenon. A steward suggested that It had something to do with the scar on Ina’s forehead. When she brought it to her matron’s attention weeks before, it was dismissed as a mere rash or irritation. It had now been weeks since Ina painted the boy. Her scar was still sore .

 

It didn’t take long before the chatter in the cafeteria resumed again. The girls carried this bubbly energy through to the next phase of the day. In Ina’s unit, it was a session in Logic and Reasoning. Ina could barely remember anything from her previous session except that the girls behaved more rowdy than usual.

 

On a typical day, they would line up in a fashion as perfect as robots in a factory. This time, they were a little humanly messy. She didn’t know why but this made Ina feel a sense of relief. The change in the girls’ behavior soon became evident to the instructors. Through the glass, they watched as the girls in Ina’s unit solved puzzles. What bothered the instructors the most was that they looked as though they were having fun.

 

Little Glen smiled gleefully at Esmeralda who was just putting in the last piece to complete the pattern. Head Matron Teresa, observing from the glass window, noticed something concealed under Glen’s jet-black fringe. A scar similar to Ina’s- an alarming sight .

 

Matrons and stewards gathered at the disciplinary room to observe and examine Glen’s bruised red scar. She mentioned feeling a throbbing from the cables of her head gear.

 

“A couple of girls complained that they’re cables went haywire all through the night,” said Louise.

 

 All the girls had experienced it that morning.

 

Could the fault in the cables in the headgear have something to do with Ina’s strange behaviour? 

 

Desperate to find a solution, Teresa demanded that the headgear was monitored. She thought it highly unlikely that this was the cause. The headgear was only designed to transport them to a virtual reality. A computer generated world known as Estheria. Their only place free from surveillance in this rigidly governed society.

 

In Estheria it was always warm. There was no seasonal change. The girls could run around and wile away time, playing hide and seek in the trees in the parks. They all took delight in the cool spongy sensation of the green grass when they laid their heads on it.

 

 Time didn’t exist. Neither did work.

 

Only the girls had the privilege of experiencing the splendor of Estheria. During the day, Ina couldn’t help but ponder on the delightful things she experienced in Estheria. She recorded these ideas in a diary which she kept hidden in a safe, secluded spot inside the hedges near the park benches. It was perfectly concealed and out of sight… or so she thought.

 

Once every interval break, she would hide herself and discreetly pour out everything she could remember about Estheria down in her diary. The sun shone differently. The sky was a distinct blue and the lake rippled serenely under the tropical breeze. Recently however, she decorated the pages of her diary from end to end with her colorful art. Things recollected from her dreams. Things from the outside world- portraits of nature, savannas, plumerias, hyacinths, human life- women in beaches and swimming pools. A picture of the lake managed to make it into her diary. Like all the other pictures in her diary, it was drawn in haste. The lake was Ina’s favorite place in this virtual paradise. She loved it because it was the only place she could see her reflection. Estheria was the perfect dream until the headgear was switched off every morning at 7:00am.

 

Afterwards, the routine was the same every single day. They would head out of their dorms in a rigid organized fashion, head to the cafeteria for breakfast which was followed by their daily sessions and then march downstairs to the common lobby to form a circle around the screen. A hologram of a statuesque female would then emerge from the screen.

This particular day however, whilst the other girls sat on the floor transfixed on this screen, Ina’s attention was diverted to the room around her. She began scanning her environment. For the first time, Ina became more aware of her surroundings. Things became more clear and obvious – things she once ignored, things she was once oblivious to. Cartoons in monochrome colors displayed on the television set, the light bulbs, the chandelier, the furniture. As her eyes spanned the room, she caught Glen’s eyes. In this moment, they shared a look of understanding that transcended words. A look of one whose soul had been liberated.

 

But Ina noticed something else. Something that gripped her and made the hairs on her skin stand erect. She noticed someone studying the girls through the glass above.

 

 It was Teresa.

 

Only Glen and Ina noticed Teresa and her blank eyes. They were like big dark brown pebbles suspended in the spheres of her dome. Almost soulless. Teresa had a stern look as usual and was holding something in her right hand. As Teresa shifted a slight angle away, Ina caught a glimpse of what she was holding.

 

She was holding Ina’s diary.

 

Glen looked to Ina unsure whether to be afraid or alert. Ina however was sure of one thing- she was paralyzed by terror. Teresa didn’t take her gaze off Ina for even a split second..

 

How long had she been standing there, Ina thought as she sat numb, with a thumping heart and wet palms.

 

Following a loud spark coming from behind the television set, the light bulbs in the room dimmed slowly and in sequence until the lights were completely off. The girls were left in a bleak dull atmosphere where nothing but their shadowed forms could be seen. An orientation session had transitioned into a complete Lights Out. The screen displayed white noise and Esther’s hologram was nowhere in sight. Ina could no longer make out the sight of Teresa. Only a silhouette

 

The girls were dumbfounded – a mixture of angst and tension in the air. Ina braced herself and managed to regain a natural breathing rhythm and feeling in her limbs. She figured if she made her way through the girls around her, she might find Glen. Luckily, Glen found Ina first and clung onto her arm like one holding on for dear life. They were latched onto one another like jam on bread. The bond between them was the strongest it had ever been.

 

“You will be fine,” Ina whispered.

 

Their embrace was interrupted by the violent sound of the door being kicked open, followed by the sound of heavy boots stomping on the wooden tiles. The girls all scrambled to find their footing. A yellow flickering light from a torch pierced the darkness and hovered over the girls’ faces. It wandered around the room until it stopped at Glen and Ina.

 

A sudden forceful tug on Ina’s arm detached her from Glen’s embrace. She managed to cling onto Glen a few seconds longer. A few seconds long enough to whisper to her ,

 

“The Passageways….Behind the television”

 

Everyone could hear the tug of war- the rough kicking and screaming as Ina resisted being dragged across the room. Glen panted heavily as Ina was dragged away. She didn’t quite grasp the meaning of Ina’s words just yet. Passageways? Television ?

 

Light from the opened door revealed Ina being carried away by two uniformed guards. The harsh sound of the door slamming shut reverberated through the room. Whether by sheer force of will, determination, or a rush of adrenaline Glen found a way through the herd of girls, to the television set and managed to dismount it. A shocking show of strength for someone of her stature. Other girls were in a frantic state. Some cried for Esther, others cried for Louise whilst others bit their nails in heart pounding anticipation.

 

Ina’s words kept replaying in Glen’s mind- The Passageways…Behind The Television. Still in a state of shock and utter delirium, Glen pushed the TV to the wall. A vain attempt to mount herself to the window ledge. Not practical, she realized. And it was also too risky. As she slowed down to catch her breath, she sunk into the wall and looked to the window high above. She felt a small indent along the face of the wall. She ran her hands through it and followed it’s trace as it led to a subtle dent somewhere in the middle.

 

All the girls sat and watched in awe as Glen’s act of bravery seemingly led to a wonderful discovery. Glen forced her fingers through the dent and ran them through the inner surface. It was indeed a wonderful discovery. What appeared to be a dent in the wall was actually a door handle.

 

Very carefully and slowly she pulled the ledge towards herself and allowed the entire surface to detach from the wall. The prancing of the girls slowly drew to a calm. They sat and watched with numb mouths as Glen unlatched this door from the wall. She looked back at the others and paused momentarily as if to take a breath. She braced herself.

 

She then turned back to face their one hope out of a messy situation. She made her way through the door and boxed herself inside the confinement of the hollow space. She examined the surrounding area. It was desolate, unkempt, dry, dusty, occupied with nothing but muddy air and the stench of metal. She looked to the right and the tiny space seemed to lead further down into an extremely long path. One more time, she turned to look at the other girls. No one was brave enough yet to follow. She started down the path alone until finally a green eyed fuzzy-haired fellow from behind crouched down and followed. She recognized the green eyes. They belonged to Esmeralda.

 

The two crawled into the confinement through the long stretch of metal and wood. Very quickly, two became three. And then three became four. Within minutes, ten girls followed behind Glen and forged down this risky path that seemed to stretch on for miles.

 

Glen continued to lead the pack, crawling with her eyes set ahead. The ceiling got higher and the smell of dank wood and metal began to dissipate slowly. They forged further until an hour passed and their surroundings became more friendly.

 

Their grueling journey had led them to an incline along the path a significant distance away from the door and the room. The width of the passage walls got wider, giving them liberty to squeeze through. A hungry and fatigued Glen was tempted to take a break until she considered the girls behind and how far they’d come. She mustered up courage to make it a few meters ahead. Esmeralda kept close to her tail. With assistance from those behind, Glen gained leverage to the top of the incline.

 

Immediately, she was met by a greater open space. A brick-walled and concrete floored structure filled with abandoned furnishings. Another room perhaps? Glen and Esmeralda shook the debris off their bodies as they helped themselves to their feet realising they had come to a cellar.

 

Their end of the tunnel.

 

Looking around there were timeworn boxes and mirrors arranged against the wall, old furniture, broken bulbs, and dusty portraits scattered along the floor. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high supported by long rusty wooden trusses nailed to the wall. Long lines of images on plastic film stretched across the room. There were faces on them. But too much contrast to make them out. One of the girls soon realized they were all pictures of females.Youthful girls in particular.

 

Glen was startled by a sharp noise from behind. Esmeralda’s loud gasp. Everyone looked to Esmeralda as she abruptly dropped what she was holding- a rain soaked teddy bear. A series of flashbacks ran through her mind.

 

Esmeralda slowly stepped away from the toy box and let tears rain down her face. Memories of another life began to stem from her adolescent heart. Memories of her childhood. Glen laid an arm on Esmeralda’s back as she came to a mutual understanding. This rain soaked teddy bear was a surviving remnant of her life before the shelter.

 

Other girls ransacked the boxes. There were toys, portraits, pins and needles stuck into balls, woven shawls, pink knitted scarves and sweaters. It slowly became evident to them- they grokked Esmeralda’s tears. Each item belonged to one of the girls. Fragments of a former life.

Glen was still pacifying the broken Esmeralda when she looked up to the mirrors arranged along the wall. She had never seen anything of its kind. In the shelter there were no mirrors. Only images. She became curious, noticing her full body’s reflection in all its dimensions. Wow, She thought. She moved closer. The modest light from the small window situated at great height compensated for the dimness of the room. She couldn’t see her face clearly in the mirror but what she saw was enough for her. Enough for her to remember who she was.

I hitched a ride on a private jet.

I was seventeen, visiting my grandmother in Stuart, Florida, and staying in her condo. Her next-door neighbor was a pilot who played bridge with her.

I met him near the end of my stay, and when I told him I was headed back to New York the next day, he said, “Save your ticket. You can fly back with me.”

In those days, plane tickets were fully refundable, so this was a big savings. Plus, I didn’t have to wait in lines or sit in the crowded coach section of a big commercial plane.

I don’t remember what kind of jet it was, but it was a luxury model, with plenty of comfortable seating and a lounge. The pilot flew for a wealthy private patron whom he referred to as “Mrs. Payson.” He would fly her down to Florida, leave her down there for a week or so, then fly the empty jet back to New York. So for this trip I had the entire cabin to myself.

This isn’t the model I flew in (we’re talking 1974 or thereabouts), but the general layout of the cabin was something like this…

main qimg 35cf26517a26633c18be0efe2429ff7a lq
main qimg 35cf26517a26633c18be0efe2429ff7a lq

A while later, I learned that “Mrs. Payson” was actually Joan Whitney Payson, the founder and owner of the Mets.

Flying cross-country by private jet is definitely the way to go, but expensive if you’re the one footing the bill. It’s much better to hitch a ride like I did!

Thank you for the A2A.

EDIT: I had no idea this answer would get so many upvotes. If I did, I would have given more careful thought to my answer.

Hitching a ride on a private jet is the slickest thing I’ve ever done on an airplane, but it’s not the slickest thing anyone I know has done.

The Godfather horse head scene

The Chairman of the CPC is an unpaid post and has been since 1921

main qimg df5a8b49966c090afa1d8480325d9928
main qimg df5a8b49966c090afa1d8480325d9928

It’s an honorary position albeit the most powerful position in China

Xi Jinping gets a Salary of around 220,000 Yuan a year for his equivalent Civil Service Rank when he joined the standing Committee (Around $ 30,000)

Additionally he also gets a salary of the President of China for the People’s Congress which is undisclosed but expected to be equivalent to the highest civil service pay rank which is 320,000 Yuan a year

So all in all he makes around $ 75,000 a year in Salary

As Chairman of CPC he also gets

  • Lifetime Free Housing in the Zhongnanhai, Beijing
  • State Allowance of 100% for all living expenses which means Servants, Food etc are fully free and paid by the State
  • Lifetime Security & Transportation

Plus by his own disclosures, he has invested in A Shares & other instruments in the Chinese market

Georgia Baked Ham

8dd990a370d252ae80e900143745071a
8dd990a370d252ae80e900143745071a

Ingredients

  • 1 (13 to 15 pound) fully cooked bone-in ham
  • 4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons ground cloves
  • 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 tablespoons ground mustard
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 cup (approximately) apple cider (not hard cider)
  • Brown sugar for topping

Instructions

  1. Trim some of the fat from ham.
  2. Combine flour, brown sugar, spices, mustard and pepper. Add enough cider to make a dough.
  3. Roll out dough into an oval, large enough to cover top and sides of ham. Drape dough over ham and lightly pat it in place so it clings to the surface. Do not encase the ham completely with the dough, just cover the top and sides leaving the bottom open.
  4. Place the ham on a rack in a shallow, open roasting pan. Start ham in a cold oven. Set control to 325 degrees F.
  5. Bake until thermometer reads 160 degrees F, about 3 1/2 to 4 hours, basting with cider every 30 minutes.
  6. After it’s baked, remove dough jacket and discard.
  7. Sprinkle ham with brown sugar and return to oven until top is bubbly and golden.

Frankly, only Americans do not know such a basic fact! Everyone on earth knows such an ABC of tariffs. Everywhere on earth the importer of the product is responsible to pay for the tariffs and the importer of Chinese products are almost always American nationals or American companies. They don’t pay to China they pay to the US customs!

So your government took this money and they can decide what to do with it. You suckers pay for it through higher prices! So it is like a tax or it is like your government stealing your money. In economics it is called inflation.

Importers pay the same price before the tariffs were put in place they don’t pay one cent more or one cent less. So China do not lose anything, it only lose if US importers buys from some where else! If not there is no effect on the Chinese. Since most of the things China does it is very very competitive and nowhere on earth can it be done at the price and the quality. Chances is almost everything still has to come from China!

So in effect the US government is punishing Americans! Not China or Chinese!

China is already a superpower. And a most peaceful one at that. China has fought no wars since 1979.

China has the world’s largest army and the world’s largest navy. China has advanced stealth fighters like the J-20 and J-35. China has advanced hypersonic missiles. China has a large nuclear arsenal.

China is the only other country capable of building supercarriers. The Type 003 will go into service shortly, and the Type 004 is coming.

China’s Type 055 and Type 052D are among the most powerful warships in the world.

China is the world’s technological leader. According to ASPI, China leads in 57 out of 64 critical technology fields. China has more patent grants than the USA and Japan combined.

China is the world’s sole industrial superpower. The USA doesn’t even come close.

China is the world’s largest economy by purchasing power parity.

Doc Holliday | Full Western Movie

 

A Sailing Aesthetic

He can’t because China does not make fentanyl. Most fentanyl is produced by Mexican cartels within Mexico, where Donald Trump has proposed deploying special military forces to combat drug cartels. Some of the chemical precursors for fentanyl production are sourced from China, but these substances are also widely used in the legitimate pharmaceutical industry for manufacturing essential products such as pain relievers, anesthetics, and other medications.

Governments, including China and the United States, have introduced regulations, monitoring systems, and collaborations with chemical manufacturers to prevent the diversion of precursors for illicit drug production. However, criminal networks frequently find ways to obtain these substances. Drug addiction has persisted in the U.S. since Nixon declared the War on Drugs in 1970, yet instead of addressing the root causes—such as curbing the demand and underlying factors driving addiction—many politicians deflect responsibility by finding scapegoats. It’s time to focus on comprehensive solutions that reduce cravings and dependence among Americans rather than assigning blame.

Shorpy

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The Coin Toss | No Country for Old Men

Subject 12

Submitted into Contest #115 in response to: Write a story where a device goes haywire. view prompt

Anna W

Ryland knew he might not get invited to the party if he didn’t use his connections on the football team. He had been a kicker the last three years, though he hadn’t tried out this year because of taking on a second job. He’d been avoiding the irritation of his buddies the first few weeks of school, hoping to save himself from the lectures of privileged athletes whose families weren’t struggling financially. His mom told him he didn’t need the job, but he got one anyway. He could work an extra 10-15 hours a week now that he was 18, and it would help him put away more money for college. He wanted to get out of this small town, with its small-minded, boring people. He turned the corner in the hallway of the aging high school, walking absentmindedly toward his last class of the day. He threw a passing glance at the window of a classroom on his right and stopped. What was that? He wondered.

 

His English teacher was standing behind his desk, hunched in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of standing up, but had suddenly stopped. Ryland couldn’t figure out why this bothered him so much, but fought his rising panic by counting. He was about to enter the classroom, when the teacher stood up suddenly, with jerky movements, and then smoothly walked around his desk and toward the back of the classroom.

 

Ryland watched him for another moment, seeing nothing else out of the ordinary. Weird, he thought to himself. He blinked several times, wondering if he should be concerned about this, or if something was just wrong with his brain. He felt a sleepy feeling that weighed on his mind and suddenly felt strongly that it was nothing to be worried about. He glanced back down the hall, seeing one of his football buddies rounding the corner ahead. Alright, focus man, he thought to himself, you can do this. He took a deep breath and walked confidently forward.

 

******

 

Officer Lara Walker sat in the uncomfortable chair, fighting the urge to fidget, as she took notes on what Commander Vinn was saying about the operation, in its current stages. She didn’t need the notes, but knew it would make the Commander feel important to have her rapt attention and to be “learning” from him, though she was certain she knew more of Project Strella than he did. She glanced at the screen, where a hazy image of the subject was moving around on the screen, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

 

Vinn tapped the screen of his tablet out of frustration, “Ugh. NEXA!!” he yelled as he slammed the speaker button of the phone on his desk. “Yes?” came the bored drone of his secretary. Walker thought the yelling was in poor taste, especially since the commander’s secretary was directly in the next room and could probably hear the screaming through the wall. “This screen thing is not connected to the tablet. AGAIN. I thought the guy fixed this mess last week.” “Right, sir, well the technician said the disturbance in the connection might be coming from the core itself. He said he’d be back out next week, with a bigger team to examine it in more detail.”

 

The Commander rolled his eyes and continued poking at the tablet with his finger. Walker looked back up at the screen and started. The confused eyes of Subject 12 seemed to be peering through the screen, and directly at Walker as she sat in her chair. That’s not possible, she thought, reminding herself of her in depth training of the project and technologies involved. The screen glitched, distorting the already hazy images. The subject was now seated, and seemed to be writing something in a notebook. Walker made a note of the time, so she could go back to this timeframe later and make sure all the transitions were smooth in his memory. She glanced back up at the screen, fixating for a moment on the subject’s face, and then decidedly turning her attention back to her own notes.

 

******

 

Ryland was sitting at the party, surrounded by people, with loud music bumping in his ears. It felt like it was just beating against his brain, but his thoughts were louder than anything else, as usual. He looked down at the cup in his hand and felt like a stranger in his own body. So weird, he thought, morosely, do other people feel this way? Is it just me? What’s wrong with me? He looked to his left on the old basement couch, and saw the group of girls perched on the other end. He made eye contact with a brunette, who blushed and glanced away from him, quickly. Mina. She was the reason he’d delved back into the crowd he’d been avoiding, and gotten one of his buddies to pick him up for the party.

 

He got up to get a refill, even though he’d barely taken a few sips of the swill being served at this party that gave the distinct odor and taste of rubbing alcohol. He couldn’t be completely sure. He’d never tasted rubbing alcohol, after all. He just needed an excuse to move around, instead of sitting by himself.

 

He was standing awkwardly at the table full of used cups and various bottles of alcohol that had been stolen from a parents’ liquor cabinet or had been purchased by an older sibling. Maybe he should just head home. What am I even doing here? She’s never going to be interested in me. He swiped his hand dismissively, in the air above the table of cups, and pretended not to notice when a few fell over. No time for your weirdness now, dude. He glanced toward the door. There she was, looking at her phone. She must have moved while he was lost in his own thoughts.

 

He took a deep breath and moved toward her.

“Dating apps?” he asked, kicking himself for the lameness that oozed out of him when he opened his mouth. He’d been around girls his whole life, but sometimes still felt like they were a different species altogether. Or maybe you’re the one who’s different, he thought to himself, and felt a twinge of panic as something about the thought disturbed him greatly. Something… missing… The morose thoughts tried to spiral, but he refused to go into the pit of baseless fear that occasionally consumed him.

 

He shook his head, in an attempt to clear his mind by pure brute force, if necessary. She glanced up at him, having missed his awkward encounter with the table, thankfully, and said, “Yeah, the prospects here are pretty slim, don’t you think?” He smirked as he recognized her tone as one of sarcasm and playful banter, and not a tone of “get away from me, jerk,” that he’d seen his friends experience. “Yeah, I agree. Probably best to just give up on all these dudes completely. There’s gotta be something more than conversations about football and video games, right?”

 

“Yeah,” she smirked, as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “You get it. So what… are you saying you’re different from these other guys?” she asked, eyeing him with playful suspicion. “Me? No way. Ask me about 16th century English Literature, and I guarantee I will make a joke about how Elizabethans ‘scored’ or maybe even a space joke. I do have a variety of corny jokes going for me.” He was shocked at his own response, it was more bold than he’d felt in a long while. Something was stirring in his spirit.

 

“Some wouldn’t consider corny jokes to be a personality trait,” Mina said as she laughed. She laughed! He thought, excitedly. Okay, don’t screw this up now, man. He found himself grinning as well. “Then I guess you’ll just have to let me know what personality traits you’re looking for, and I’ll make sure to confirm that none of these other jokers have them. You know, just to save you some time.” Her laugh sounded far away and tinny, like it was ringing in a metal box, but he decided to ignore it and lean into the boldness of the flirtatious feeling, and whatever else this was.

 

******

 

Officer Walker typed thoughtfully, thinking of how to add nuance to the story she was writing. She knew this wasn’t technically part of her job, but she’d finished all her admin duties, checked the subject’s vitals and memories, and needed something to do. The pre-programmed personalities were falling flat and hadn’t been able to keep Subject 12’s attention. She needed to keep his mind walking through a combination of positive and negative experiences, just like a real life would be, so that they could monitor real progress.

 

She was the youngest in her rank, having graduated college at 16 and finishing Academy training at 18. Sure, she was just six months on the job and her accelerated technical skills had landed her in a senior position, but the higher ranking officials had been doubtful of her ability to head a department at a young age, and placed her with monitoring Subject 12.

I mean, it’s not a bad job, she thought, remembering the long conversations with the handsome, knowledgeable man she shared a space with, during her shifts.

 

She silently reprimanded herself for thinking about this. Again. He doesn’t really know medoes anybody really know anybody else? Walker shifted her thoughts back to the job at hand, and reminded herself that Project Strella could not suffer under her watch. She would make sure of it. She wouldn’t let others’ doubts affect her, and she wouldn’t dwell on her own doubts long enough to let those keep her down either.

 

She glanced at the projection screen, which was a blank, black rectangle, right now, since the subject was sleeping. I mean, I guess he’s technically always sleeping, she thought to herself, feeling a bit sad about that thought. She picked up her worn copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipped through to some of her favorite passages. She put it down before she could get too caught up in the story, and looked at the book underneath, which was supposed to be a guide to Elizabethan England, and heard her dad’s voice reminding her: Get it together, Walker; there’s a job to do. She took a breath and continued typing thoughtfully as she sharpened and defined the program with lines of code.

 

******

 

Ryland sat in Mina’s living room, for the 10th time in the past few months they’d been dating. He looked around, the walls of her home were mostly white, except for one that was a deep red. The color of blood, he thought morbidly, or wine, if you’re not being dramatic. Mina was discussing her favorite Shakespearean plays and comparing it with some reality tv drama her friends had convinced her to watch.

 

Ryland was trying to listen but found his mind wandering. He’d had so many deep conversations with her, but then, sometimes, it felt like she was saying the thing he wanted to hear, instead of whatever she was really thinking. If she’s really thinking at all, he thought to himself, chiding himself for the unnecessarily mean thought.

 

He realized his gaze had wandered back to the red wall, and he looked back at Mina quickly, so she didn’t think he was ignoring her. He jumped as he looked at her eyes. They’d gone from a deep green to the same red as the blood-colored wall. He instinctively scooted back from her on the couch, stammering, “Wh– uhh– your eyes!!! Are you okay??” She blinked at him, tilting her head and bringing a hand up to touch around her eyes. “Yeah? I mean… What’s wrong with them? Did my eyeliner smear or something?” She got up and walked toward the large mirror over the mantel in the living room.

 

He didn’t know what to think. Yes you do, a voice resounded in his mind. It sounded like his voice, but older and wiser. Do I? He thought back to it. Look. Really look. It echoed in his mind. Look at what?! He asked in a panic, thinking of the blood red eyes of the girl, who was now looking at her face in the mirror. The disembodied voice didn’t answer him. She turned back around, having examined her face, and finding nothing out of the ordinary, apparently. Her eyes were still a deep, crimson red. “I’m — I — I should go, I’m just not feeling well,” he choked out. Grabbing his jacket and rushing out of her front door.

 

He could hear her calling out to him, but he just didn’t care. He felt this realization growing in him, mixing with the bold confidence like a fire in his chest of determination. He was walking briskly down the street toward his own home. He glanced at yards to his left and right, and quickly looked behind him as his pace picked up into a run. No one was following him, but he knew, he just knew he was being watched. His heart started racing and the warmth in his chest grew as his run turned into a full sprint.

 

He passed his own house, and despite knowing his parents would be inside, he felt no pull to see them. He felt cut off from everything and everyone he knew. He was only a body, only a mind. Only your mind can help you, now. They have your body, the voice whispered. He pushed himself, not physically, but mentally. He was physically sprinting, but he pressed his mind and began mentally sprinting. He allowed the warmth in his chest to grow and increase, until it felt like it would consume him. Maybe he should let it consume him. Being consumed was better than whatever this thing was inside him that made him feel so disconnected all the time. So stuck.

 

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth in chest like a burning fire now, and letting it flow into his arms and legs. Instinctively, he jumped. He opened his eyes, not understanding why his feet weren’t hitting the pavement anymore. He was flying. He was flying over his sleepy little town. He didn’t feel that sleepy, fearful feeling weighing on his mind anymore. He had left that on the ground. He pushed out with his chest, putting his arms out in front of him, and flew.

 

Everything around him began to blur, and his eyes began to water, but he pushed harder. He felt a weight on his chest, as if someone was trying to press him down. He roared in anger at the invisible hands he knew were keeping him imprisoned in this place. He remembered his life before this hell they were keeping him in. I will get out! I will be free again! He pressed forward, with everything he had.

 

******

 

Subject 12 arched his back off the table, the Alien Life Support and Simulation Device on his chest glowing orange as it sparked. He roared a terrifyingly desperate sound as Walker worked furiously on the computer connected to a diamond-shaped, glowing instrument implanted in his chest cavity. She hit the Code Red button on the wall and barked orders at several medical staff who had run in when the device had started going haywire. “Hold him down!” she yelled, “You two stand on that side! Push hard! Give him more sedatives. I don’t care if he’s hit the limit, just do it, or he’s coming off this table. DO IT NOW!” she screamed as the subject came a full 2 inches off the table.

 

More military personnel had flooded the room, responding immediately to a Code Red. “PUSH!” she screamed again, as six full grown men and two women pressed their hands down on Subject 12’s body and attempted to push him back down onto the table. Two doctors worked off to the side of the flailing man, putting syringes of medications into the fluids that were connected to his elongated, lavender colored body. One doctor looked frantic as he finished unloading the syringes into the fluid bag connected to the lavender man. He walked over and jabbed a needle directly into Subject 12’s upper arm.

 

The vitals of the subject slowly came back down to normal levels. He floated effortlessly down onto the hospital bed. The screens returned to normal, flashing warnings receded, and the main screen reflected a projected mental image of the subject sleeping, as Walker finished coding the subject’s journey into brief images that the subject would accept as memories of how he’d gotten from one place to another.

 

She sat down in a huff, sweat pouring down her brow. She knew if one more thing had gone wrong, She’d have been punished severely. She might have even permanently lost her assignment. Maybe she should request a new assignment anyway. She glanced at the tall, lavender colored man on the table, now seeming to rest peacefully, as the device glowed a light green color. She’d gotten too close. Put too much of herself into the program. She brought out his feelings, but they had been too strong for the program to contain.

 

What about her feelings? Her heart ached but she tried to keep her mind in check. She was failing, and allowing feelings to get in the way of the mission. She scolded herself for the panic she felt, reminding herself that she was trained for this. Trust your training. Trust the greater purpose. She repeated the mantra that she’d heard since her first day at The Academy. She was serving a greater purpose, right? She felt a pang of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. The potential disaster scenarios swirled in her mind again. What if… what if Subject 12 had died? Or worse. What if Ryland had woken up?

Bugging The Scotch (Tom Hanks) | Charlie Wilson’s War

Southern Fried Quail

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Ingredients

  • 10 to 12 quail
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/4 to 1/2 cup all-purpose flour

Instructions

  1. Dry and pick quail. Clean and wipe thoroughly.
  2. Salt, pepper and dredge with flour.
  3. Have ready a deep heavy frying pan with close-fitting lid half full of hot fat.
  4. Put in quail. Cook for a few minutes over a high heat, then cover skillet and reduce heat. Cook slowly until tender, turning the quail when golden brown.
  5. Serve on hot platter garnished with slices of lemon and sprigs of parsley.

How The New Russian Missiles Are Changing The Game

To describe a weapon system as a game changer on the battlefield is always open to be ridiculed. Many of the weapon systems that have been delivered to Ukraine were called game changing but failed to make any difference in the outcome of that war.

So why did I call the new Russian Oreshnik missile a ‘game changer’?

There are several reasons.

For one the missile with its 36 kinetic war heads is an unexpected response to the U.S. abolition of the Intermediate Range Nuclear Force (INF) treaty. The U.S. had hoped that the stationing of nuclear missiles in Europe might give it an advantage over Russia. Oreshnik denies that advantage WITHOUT resorting to nuclear force.

Any U.S. attempt to pressure Russia into a situation where it would either have to concede to the U.S. or to go nuclear has been demolished.

This is most visible in Ukraine. Over the two plus years of the war the U.S. has used a ‘boiling the frog’ strategy against Russia. It increased the temperature by slowly increasing the reach and lethality of the weapons it has provided to Ukraine. In each such step, the delivery of tanks, of Himars, of ATAMACs, of allowing Ukraine to use these on Russian grounds, was declared to be a move across imaginary Russian red lines. Each such step was accompanied by propaganda which claimed that Russia was looking into a nuclear response.

The aim was to push Russia into a situation where it could either make concessions over Ukraine or use nuclear weapons. The U.S. was sure that Russia would refrain from the later because it would put Russia into the position of an international pariah. By going nuclear it would lose support from its allies in China and beyond. It would also risk an all out nuclear war.

The strategy would probably have worked if Russia had not found an asymmetric response against it. It now has non-nuclear weapons, (the Oreshnik will not be the only one), which allow it to apply the equivalent of nuclear strikes without the dirty side effects of actually going nuclear.

Russia’s announcement that future Oreshnik deployments will come under the command of its Strategic Forces -which so far have only been nuclear. This is a clear sign that these new weapons are seen as having similar strategic effects.

The kinetic concept of the Oreshnik payload is not a new one. Mass times speed is the amount of destructive energy these can deliver. [Comment correction for my sloppy writing: Force equals one half the mass multiplied by velocity squared. F = 1/2 m * v^2]  Being hypersonic and hitting the targets with a speed of Mach 10 allows even small penetrators without explosives to have very strong, explosive like effects.

In the early 1980s president Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative included several attempts to introduce kinetic weapons. ‘Rods from God‘ (and later ‘Brilliant Pebbles’) were conceptualized as kinetic darts to be launched from satellites to hit Soviet ICBM missiles:

A system described in the 2003 United States Air Force report called Hypervelocity Rod Bundles was that of 20-foot-long (6.1 m), 1-foot-diameter (0.30 m) tungsten rods that are satellite-controlled and have global strike capability, with impact speeds of Mach 10.The bomb would naturally contain large kinetic energy because it moves at orbital velocities, around 8 kilometres per second (26,000 ft/s; Mach 24) in orbit and 3 kilometres per second (9,800 ft/s; Mach 8.8) at impact. As the rod reenters Earth’s atmosphere, it would lose most of its velocity, but the remaining energy would cause considerable damage. Some systems are quoted as having the yield of a small tactical nuclear bomb. These designs are envisioned as a bunker buster.

None came from it. The envisioned penetrators had to be too large and too heavy to be positioned in space. The huge ‘telephone pole’ size of the penetrators was need because these would burn up during the hypersonic flight through the atmosphere.

The penetrators Oreshnik is using are much smaller.

Russia seems to have solved some general physical problems of objects flying at hypersonic speed. In March 2018 Russia’s president Vladimir Putin announced the introduction of several new weapons designed to penetrate U.S. missile defenses. One of these was the hypersonic glide vehicle now known as Avangard:

The use of new composite materials has made it possible to enable the gliding cruise bloc to make a long-distance guided flight practically in conditions of plasma formation. It flies to its target like a meteorite, like a ball of fire. The temperature on its surface reaches 1,600–2,000 degrees Celsius but the cruise bloc is reliably guided.

We are well aware that a number of other countries are developing advanced weapons with new physical properties. We have every reason to believe that we are one step ahead there as well – at any rate, in the most essential areas.

I have since been looking for what ‘new physical properties’ or principles Russian scientist might have discovered to solve the problems of guided hypersonic travel within a plasma envelope. Nothing has come up so far. But the fact that Oreshnik is using relative small guided projectiles at hypersonic speed makes it likely that the new physical properties or principles the Russians discovered have also been applied to this weapon.

Until those basic scientific discoveries become known in the west there will be no chance for it to make weapons that can match the characteristics of Oreshnik and Avanguard.

Oreshnik is, so far, a non nuclear weapon with a limited (5,000 kilometer) range. But there is nothing in principle that hinders Russia from equipping an ICBM missile with similar non-nuclear capabilities. It would make non-nuclear strikes by Russia on U.S. grounds, or more likely on U.S. foreign bases and aircraft carriers, possible.

But those facts, and their consequences, have yet to penetrate the minds of western decision makers.

Even after the Oreshnik strike happened the U.S. continued to pin prick Russia by guiding Ukraine to fire ATAMAC missiles against targets in Russia. Yesterday the Russian Ministry of Defense announced, uncharacteristically, that two such attacks had taken place:

On 23 November, the enemy fired five U.S.-made ATACMS operational-tactical missiles at a position of an S-400 anti-aircraft battalion near Lotarevka (37 kilometres north-west of Kursk).During a surface-to-air battle, a Pantsir AAMG crew protecting the battalion destroyed three ATACMS missiles, and two hit their intended targets.

On 25 November, the Kiev regime delivered one more strike by eight ATACMS operational-tactical missiles at the Kursk-Vostochny airfield (near Khalino). Seven missile were shot down by S-400 SAM and Pantsir AAMG systems, one missile hit the assigned target.

Militarily these strikes are irrelevant. But they demonstrate that the U.S. is still trying to ‘boil the frog’ even after it has escaped from the vessel. Russia has, according to Putin, several Oreshnik and similar weapons ready to launch.

The potential target for such missiles are obvious:

MOSCOW, November 21. /TASS/. The US missile defense base in Poland has long been considered a priority target for potential neutralization by the Russian Armed Forces, Foreign Ministry Spokeswoman Maria Zakharova stated during a briefing.”Given the level of threats posed by such Western military facilities, the missile defense base in Poland has long been included among the priority targets for potential neutralization. If necessary, this can be achieved using a wide range of advanced weaponry,” the diplomat said.

Russia has closed the airspace over the Kapustin Yar missile range until November 30. Kapustin Yar is the test range from which the Oreshnik had been fired.

As there is no defense possible against Oreshnik type weapons Russia could announce a strike on the U.S. controlled Redzikow base in Poland days or hours before it would take place. As the strike would be announced, conventional in type and would cause few if any casualties it seems unlikely that NATO would apply Article 5 to it and to hit back with force.

Such would become a moment where the boiling of the frog would start again but this time with the U.S. being the frog inside of the vessel.  Russia, by hitting U.S. bases in Europe by conventional means, would increase the temperature day after day.

Would the U.S. dare to go nuclear over this or rather retreat from its plans to defeat Russia?

Posted by b on November 27, 2024 at 12:45 UTC | Permalink

No one knows where he was buried

When my son was in first grade we moved across the country. First grade had been a bad experience for him. He had a young, inexperienced teacher who, it seemed, didn’t like little boys. He actually regressed that year. My husband and I decided to have him repeat first grade after we moved.

Unfortunaely, his first grade class at his new school was complete chaos. I went in to observe one day and ended up taking 3 students to the principal’s office.

The next day I went in to see the Principal and asked to have my son moved to another teacher. I explained what had happened in the past and said he could not have another bad year.

The principal was great. Within a couple of days my son was in a class with an experienced and kind teacher.

It was pretty much all uphill from there. He is now an Architect and COO of his firm.

That first teacher who had no control over her class….the principal decided to let her go.

Russian picture dictionary: Body

Nov 04 2024
Alexandra Guzeva

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screen 2024 11 25 15 08 13

Learning a language is always easier when you can visualize the words. Here’s a picture that will help you memorize words devoted to the topic of the ‘human body’!

Various fun pictures

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US played ‘substantial’ role in causing Covid pandemic – ex-CDC chief

Several US government agencies helped to fund lab work that led to the creation of the coronavirus, according to Robert Redfield

US played ‘substantial’ role in causing Covid pandemic – ex-CDC chief\

Robert Redfield, a former director of the US Centers for Disease Control (CDC), has claimed that Covid-19 was artificially developed, and that the US played a “substantial” role in starting the pandemic.

Redfield, who led the agency under the administration of US President Donald Trump, made the claim in an interview that was released on November 14, but only drew media attention this week.

Speaking to author and podcaster Dana Parish, he suggested that the virus was “intentionally engineered as a part of a biodefense program.” “When you look at the accountability for China, their accountability is not in the lab work and the creation of the virus,” but in their failure to quickly report the incident to health authorities worldwide including the CDC, when they realized the virus was on the loose, he said.

However, the US “role was substantial,” he added. “They funded the research, both from NIH [National Institutes of Health], the State Department’s USAID and the Defense Department.”

According to the former CDC chief, the “scientific mastermind behind the research” was Dr. Ralph Baric, widely regarded as one of the world’s leading experts on coronaviruses.

Redfield suggested that the professor, who works at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, was “very involved in this research.”

“I think he probably helped create some of the original viral line”, Redfield said, admitting he did not have any proof. “I think there is a real possibility that the virus’s birthplace was Chapel Hill.”

Redfield previously said the Covid-19 pandemic, which killed more than seven million people worldwide and caused a global economic downturn, most likely started with a lab leak in Wuhan, China, and suggested that the debate on the virus’s origins was “squashed.” He has also criticized the World Health Organization (WHO) for failing to hold Beijing accountable.

One of the prevailing theories of the origin of the Covid pandemic is that the virus was transmitted to humans from an animal, possibly a bat, at a food market. China has maintained that the virus is of natural origin, and has dismissed the laboratory leak theory as an attempt to smear the country for political reasons.

The THREE STOOGES – Full Episodes – A PLUMBING WE WILL GO

One of my old classmates was a New Orleans native and his parents still lived there when Katrina hit. Given they were elderly, he rode a bicycle and then walked a good ways thru debris to check on them. He took a pistol with him.

When he got to his parent’s house there was considerable wind damage and several trees down but they were not flooded. As he approached the back yard, he saw his parents duct taped into folding chairs and the back door wide open. He drew his gun and cautiously approached the yard when a man came out with a pillow case full of looted items. He yelled at the guy to drop it and the man reached towards his waist band, so my classmate shot him.

He checked on the guy and he was dead and then he immediately went to free his parents. They were terrified but unharmed.

He called 911 and after a considerable wait on hold, he explained to a dispatcher that a looter had been shot and asked what he should do. The dispatcher calmly told him that all units were busy and to drag the body out to the street and leave it. She didn’t ask for his name or address. So, he did what she said and then left with his parents.

Nothing ever came from it as New Orleans was martial law for many days. My classmate was upset but he knew that the intruder would likely have killed his parents, and him, had he not shot him. As one of my other friends succinctly put it, the other guy dealt the hand, he just wasn’t expecting to lose.

Maternity leave

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main qimg 4939cd064699f9b6c78291eac1cdd2de

But where is China?

China’s national law provides 98 days of paid maternity leave.

The 98 is the minimum.

All provinces and regions (even the SARs like HK and Macau) enforce this 98 days minimum. But here’s the thing. Almost all provinces add extra days.

So most mothers get much more paid time off. With some regions up to a year.

It shows China has a commitment to families, health, and a stronger society.

Meanwhile in the FREE western world, get back to work!

Thousands of Homes Now FOR SALE Around Washington, DC – The Rats are Fleeing!

DC Homes for sale Major Dump large
DC Homes for sale Major Dump large

Within the past week, THOUSANDS of residential real estate listings have hit the market, FOR SALE.  The rats are fleeing!

The image above shows the listings.

Now that the USAID “gravy train” is gone, and other government agencies are cutting staff, a lot of the bureaucratic bigshots living in their million dollar+ homes are realizing they can’t afford them anymore.

In just the past few days, HUNDREDS of homes have been listed for sale in and around Washington, DC.

I’m hearing rumors that the “Yuppies” are “on suicide watch” because reality just checked-in to their lives!

I also hear that the ones with nose rings, cheek piercings, ear gauges, “radical-colored hair” and the like, are being told before job interviews that anyone with such things “will not even be considered for employment.”

Oh my. Cold, hard reality.

Can we get DC to set up Bleachers or other spectator gathering areas, so we can watch the lefties fall apart in real time?  Maybe we can get a TV station to provide live video feeds?

This could be REAL entertainment!

Here’s another Real Estate listing over a wider area around DC:

DC Homes for sale 2
DC Homes for sale 2

Souper Meat ‘n’ Potatoes Pie

Souper Meat ‘n’ Potatoes Pie is a family favorite vintage recipe from Campbell’s.

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Yield: one 9 inch pie

Ingredients

  • 1 can Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup, divided
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped onion
  • 1 egg, slightly beaten
  • 1/4 cup fine dry bread crumbs
  • 2 tablespoons chopped parsley
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • Dash of pepper
  • 2 cups mashed potatoes
  • 1/4 cup shredded mild cheese*
  • 2 slices cooked bacon, crumbled**

Instructions

  1. Mix thoroughly 1/2 cup soup, beef, onion, egg, bread crumbs, parsley and seasonings.
  2. Press firmly into a 9-inch pie plate.
  3. Bake at 350 degrees F for 25 minutes; spoon off fat.
  4. Frost with mashed potatoes; top with remaining soup and cheese.
  5. Bake for 10 minutes more or until done.
  6. Garnish with cooked and crumbled bacon if desired.

Notes

* We love cheese, so I normally cover the entire top of the pie with a hefty amount of cheese, more like 1 cup.

** This is my addition to the recipe. It adds a little extra flavor.

Meet the ‘navy-style’ pasta, the favorite dish of all Russian bachelors

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screen 2024 11 25 15 10 37

In Russia it’s called ‘Makarony po-flotsky’. This dish is ridiculously easy to cook.

You just need to mix fried minced or canned meat with pasta. One pan meal.

No tomatoes, no cheese, no nothing.

The ingredients are easy to transport and that’s what is believed to have made it popular in the navy.

The dish became widespread around the country after World War II, and for a long time was a favorite dinner for many families. And especially single men. Well, and it still is!

Would you try it? Let’s discuss in our Telegram channel!

Check out other manly Russian dishes that are easy to cook for dinner.

For a departed soul

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Jincy P Janardhanan

As she sat down beside the white wrap that covered the lifeless body of her uncle, she didn’t know what to think. His feet seemed so small inside it. It was lying so close – a small stretch of her hand and she could have touched it, yet her eyes failed. She dared not to look at the shroud. It was terrifying, to know for the first time that life was so little.His life seemed so little. He had indeed lived for long – past seventy – so why should anyone worry? The closest of kith and kin could say he had lived long enough and had died content. He had a little smile on his face as he was lying down, waiting for his last respects. So why should I worry? I don’t know really. I had never known him all my life, anyway. And I’ll never know him again.He had a chance, didn’t he? Why did everyone let him die? After all, it’s a life. Doesn’t it mean anything? You feel for the birds that often come by your house, but you didn’t feel for your husband? Why is anybody talking, really? Why is everyone here, everyone who didn’t think of him when he was alive? I’m sorry my brother, I can’t stand this. You were his son, yet you let him down too. You must have been his last hope, but you failed. Literally, anyone in this room could have demanded to save him and do the surgery to keep him alive – yet no one did. Why did he have to die that way?He had four brothers and two sisters, and all of them were there, beside his dead body. But none of you was there for him, as he lay waiting for his death in the ICU for three days. He was silent, but he could still hear and feel, right? I wish he never heard any of your thoughts aloud.Dear uncle, I’ll never know you. I hope you might’ve loved me even if you had never visited me. I hope you wished no ill will. I don’t believe in afterlives, but if you had more wishes, I wish they get fulfilled even in your absence. I pray to the Almighty that your soul shall rest in peace. Amen.I couldn’t bear it. Was it pain? I don’t know. I only felt this helplessness, this belittlement of life and death right before me. It was choking me. Tears flowed relentlessly as I struggled for breath through my closed lips and dry throat. I couldn’t face anybody and I tried to look small – hugging my feet and covering my tear-stained face with my hand as I stared at a dusty corner of the room that no one noticed. I ran for life when my sister-in-law said we could take rest somewhere inside – I didn’t know what I was thinking. I had to let it all out.My silent screams echoed in the bedroom as I hugged on to my sister for dear life, away from the shroud and the dead body. I took many deep breaths and looked through the window. Everything was silent. My body felt numb. I was a machine, learning. I’ll never know how many trials it will take for me to learn this new algorithm of life.There are only a few steps here.You’re an innocent child but you grow up into an adult. You’re young and you work hard to make a fortune. You build a family to spend all that fortune. You become poor and old till nobody wants you. You die.I wish there was an element of love somewhere in the loop – there is none. History repeats. It’s money that rules the world and it’s rooted in the families. I remembered my dad. He’s a veteran and his fault? He had two girl children. He spent all his money on the dear house his father had built for their family in the olden days. He got himself a few blocks in his heart. So now he’s poor, unhealthy and father to two girls – Why should anyone want him anymore? And he was out of his home – the same home that he dreamt of sharing a part with all his brothers and their families.Does that ring a bell? Look around and check your roots. Look at the outcasts and check the crimes that got ’em off their family trees. It’s history, and it repeats. It’s the same everywhere. It’s an infinite loop – the kind that never meets its exit condition.That’s when I thought of some outliers in this history of the world – some of the biggest and richest families that every born child would know. There should have been some mistake, some kind of bug that occasionally breaks this code and that loop exits in an error 500. I saw my mom – I smiled, I know what that bug is.I started thinking, hard. I’m a developer and I’m about to start my Masters in Computer Science next year. What else should I invest in, if not in making an AI that increases this bug in families and breaks the infinite loop in history? I can’t wait. Now I know my project and purpose.She rose from her seat and washed her face several times until she was sure that no one would see her tears again. She tried putting on a smile – it was hard. She thought now she was brave enough to face the reality and looked out of her hiding place. There they were – her little cousins, too innocent to not know the weight of that shrouded body in the front room. She rushed to them, hugged them both and sat in-between them, holding their hands. They’ve come from afar upon notice of the death in our family. They didn’t know this place and were looking at different things curiously. My seven-year-old brother asks, “Are they rich?”. I was at a loss of words.I wish I could one day make an AI that stops feeding little brains the philosophy of rich versus poor, black versus white, and girl versus boy, and instead teach the philosophy of seeing people as just fellow human beings, full of life. I should probably work in education. Maybe then I could make an algorithm that learns the loop of love and whenever a little friend tries to call someone ugly, my AI would whisper in his ears, “Please, don’t do it”.

The Beverly Hillbillies 2024️

TID Nuclear Education: How America’s Secret Science Led to Multiple Nuclear Bombings of Iraq

3 years before a rogue FBI agent sent Gordon Duff the real 9/11 report, stolen nukes and ‘dustified towers’ (Truth Bomb)

By Gordon Duff, Senior Editor (2011)

Over the last few days, Bob Nichols, Jim Fetzer, Lauren Moret, and Christopher Busby, published articles conclusively proving the use of nuclear weapons in Iraq.

Their research did not come from cruising internet websites but from traditional grunt work journalism, working sources within the scientific and weapons community, some with the highest imaginable security classifications level.

We aren’t talking about Depleted Uranium, dangerous, a genetic nightmare, and certainly carcinogenic, but actual nuclear weapons.

We have the hard proof, we have discovered samples of highly enriched, 95%, weapons-grade Uranium 235 in Iraq, in the people of Iraq, and since then we have found nothing but a wall of silence.

These are our two articles:

New Bombs and War Crimes in Fallujah
NUCLEAR WEAPONS! OhMyGawd They Did it!

Building Things You Just Can’t Imagine

We have clear and well-established contacts inside Livermore and Sandia Labs, where designs of nuclear weapons entered new unheard of generations, new unheard-of capabilities, over 20 years ago.

Anything you think you know about nuclear weapons is false, their size, their “output,” or the restrictions on their use.

We also have access to unpublished “dark research” from the Reagan era Strategic Defense Initiative, (SDI), which was meant to produce a “space shield” for the United States.

Some of the experiments, some that went dreadfully wrong, involved the use of nuclear weapons as “spark plugs” to produce X-Ray and microwave energy capable to disabling “flocks” of MIRVs (Multiple Independent Reentry Vehicles) the new tiny hydrogen bombs that fill the nose cones of missiles, or other less obvious delivery systems.

While researching such things over the past 5 years as a journalist with a defense engineering background, nothing unusual in that, I came across a number of scientific developments that even I understood.

If I can understand it, imagine what a really talented 15 years old could do? Any parent with a home computer knows exactly what I am talking about.

During my interviews, I talked with nuclear weapons specialists from the NAVY and Army, those capable of arming and operating these weapons, including individuals who have carried nuclear weapons, including one person who has carried nukes on HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) parachute jumps on dozens of occasions.

I spent hours interviewing Dimitri Khalezov, former Soviet/Russian nuclear intelligence expert of the 12th Directorate. The stories he told were astounding, right out of science fiction but always proven right.

The major powers track nuclear material, countries building nukes, countries trying to buy them and, stranger still, those odd times when nuclear weapons are used.

This is what we proved conclusively in our scientific studies in Iraq, information that makes everything Khalezov has said much more credible, to the point of being undeniable.

Scientific teams, using the most advanced equipment found clear evidence that America used nuclear weapons in Iraq. The articles above outline the procedures that gave these results, evidence that is far less questionable than the connections between cigarettes and cancer. These are hard facts.
Looking Down the New Barrel

You can ask why we would do such things. I can’t answer, I can only guess. Typically, America’s weapons inventory includes two bizarre weapons, the “fuel-air bomb” and the “daisy cutter.”

Each is huge weapons that produce a visual signature actually far more visible than 4th generation nuclear weapons.

What do I mean by this? What is a 4th generation nuke?

I can start this path by explaining some of what we have learned. I don’t think we have touched the full extent of our weapons capability, financed by hundreds of billions of dollars of “black funding” over 3 or more decades.

What we have learned about particle physics in 30 years makes an atom bomb such as the one we dropped on Hiroshima as primitive as a Roman chariot.

THE MYTH
The ‘Nuclear Bazooka”

What Americans are led to believe is that nuclear weapons are as big as a car, that they use uranium or plutonium “pits” the size of grapefruit or larger and all-cause large explosions and leave behind telltale mushroom clouds.

Here is a fact. America decommissioned a nuclear weapon called the “Davy Crockett,” a shoulder-fired nuclear projectile the size of a soccer ball back in 1978.

Nearly a quarter-century ago, these weapons were considered “too primitive” to be kept in use.

The cover story? They were no longer needed. The truth? 1978 was the height of the cold war. We had long put nuclear weapons inside 155mm artillery shells.

The 155mm is around 6 inches and much of that diameter is obviously steel casing. The larger 8″ and 175mm nuclear shells have been around for half a century.
3AD “Suitcase Bomb” – The Mk-54 Special Atomic Demolition Munition (SADM)

Considering the need for protection and the actual size of the projectiles, we have been making nuclear weapons that would fit in a child’s lunchbox for generations.

Then, of course, Hollywood got rumors of the “suitcase” or even “briefcase” nuke. Any piece of the 6-inch heating duct with a couple of LED’s is now a “Hollywood nuke.”

Dozens of versions of these sit on property room shelves at TV and movie studios. We have all seen them.

We have seen them because we are supposed to see them. They make us afraid and they mislead us also.

Iraq proved that. But it wasn’t just Iraq.

VARIATIONS, THE “NON-NUKE” NUKE

When is a funny story not a funny story? Years ago, Dimitri sent me a CNN report of a terrorist attack inside Russia. Back during the “workers paradise” years, the government built huge apartment blocks to provide needed housing.

I have stayed in such things, a “guest of the people,” concrete thick enough to stop artillery, toilets so powerful you don’t want to be close when you grab the 3-foot long flush lever. Oh, and long ago, there was always someone in the parking lot who wrote down your license number, the time of your arrival and departure.

If only they had cell phone cameras back then.
Russain Apartment Bombings

Anyway, a news story came out reporting that Chechen rebels had exploded a mail truck, destroying one of these enormous apartment blocks.

The government spokesman listed the explosive used as the equivalent of 300 tons of TNT. A Russian mail truck carries about 800 pounds of mail and packages. Any more and it would roll overturning corners.

For those of you even more “math-challenged” than I am, 300 tons is 600,000 pounds.

No such “accidental” press release has been made since but we have seen this level of damage before, many times, certainly all over Iraq and Afghanistan.

There, those who were near the blast area test positive for direct exposure to fully enriched weapons-grade uranium, not the “isotope” Iranian version but the real thing. You can’t fake that.

As the articles referred to above also outline, the incumbent genetic damage that comes with direct exposure to large amounts of ionizing radiation from a nuclear explosion is there also.

But then, we have an arsenal of secret weapons here, not just the secret “dial-a-nukes” used to destroy apartment buildings or simulate terrorist attacks, things anyone can learn about on the internet.

Nuclear material, certainly the highly radioactive material almost all American troops are regularly exposed to misnomered as “Depleted Uranium” but, moreover, the very real thing, fully weapons-grade pure enriched uranium can be used in “non-nuke” nukes.
All Sizes For All Kinds of Situations

Depleted Uranium is used in munitions of almost every type as a “penetrator.”

It isn’t the weight of the uranium but rather than uranium turns into plasma on impact and releases a mass of energy capable of, not just blowing a hole in a building or tank, but releasing a jet of superheated gas that destroys the world’s hardest steel and kills anyone nearby.

The use of these weapons, now available in 7.62X51 caliber, yes, the old .308 round used for deer hunting, that and every other imaginable size, are used continually.

Why not use a conventional rifle, one of those old M 14’s leftover from the 1950s that are continually reissued, quite a wonderful weapon, to shoot through concrete?

It it worked for the .50 cal sniper rifle, it will work for smaller weapons as well.

These radioactive weapons have a history. They were originally a last-ditch attempt to save NATO from the massive Soviet superiority in numbers of tanks and other armored vehicles.

Weapons platforms based around a giant 30mm gun were developed, the Apache helicopter and the A 10 Thunderbolt. Firing dangerously depleted uranium rounds, lines of Soviet tanks could be erased as though they were made of matchsticks.

We also planted nuclear “demolitions” under much of Germany, to be exploded if and when the Eastern Bloc armies broke through. Have they been dug up and removed? For those unfamiliar with this policy, the operative word is “Fulda Gap.”

A LITTLE NASTY SCIENCE
DU Kinetic Penetrator

Let’s begin with the least harmful of the new arsenal of weapons that don’t exist. Remember what we said about “depleted uranium?”

If you could create a superheated plasma from DU, you could certainly create something far hotter, unimaginably hotter, using weapons-grade uranium.

Thus, we created an array of new explosives that use powdered uranium that creates a radioactive plasma, emits massive radiation, can vaporize steel, turn thousands of tons of concrete to fine dust yet produce an explosion that, initially at least, appears to be a conventional explosion.

This inventory gives choices. When a target of size needs to be destroyed, a small fusion-based “dial-a-nuke” can be used, one with output as little as 10 tons of TNT.

You can call it a “daisy cutter” or “car bomb.” The telltale signs of such an explosion would be a huge crater in a paved area and, within the blast radius, powdered concrete and “missing” steel.

There is no amount of TNT or other conventional explosives, not even a shipload, that can vaporize steel. Chunks of concrete can fly a kilometer, steel beams can be bent or blasted but they never turn to powder or seem mysteriously “eaten away.”
Vacuum Bomb

Photographs of the attack on the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City leave such a signature as did several other such events, the US barracks in Saudi Arabia, and the attack in 1984 on the Marine barracks in Beirut.

Dimitri Khalezov, serving in the Soviet army as a nuclear intelligence officer says that these explosions were forms of now level nuclear devices. He also said a similar device was used in the Bali attack in October of 2002.

No other person with full briefing access from a world power has ever come forward before.

Claims Khalezov made years ago have been proven true by hard science in Iraq.

The use of nuclear weapons, the controlled fusion variety, is now proven as part of a covert policy of the American military, used where their aftermath is denied by public relations machinery, where the events themselves are mischaracterized as huge conventional explosives and where any coverage by “mainstream media” is curiously absent.

We are also seeing the telltale signs of a worldwide police state.

We believe we may have captured a video of a test from Livermore Labs of a “non-fission” hybrid explosive that uses enriched uranium.

Curious? Want to believe it is a test of a rocket motor? No such projects go on there, this isn’t NASA. The burn, 122 seconds, using conventional fuel, would have depleted an oil tanker a thousand feet long. The heat? Imagine the launch area, eaten away, all-metal turned to dust, a huge hole burned in the ground filled with molten steel, superheated for weeks, even months.

Sound familiar?

Do you suspect you have seen a heat source capable of melting thousands of tons of structural steel, powdering concrete, and sending out literal seas of dust? It brings something to mind for me.

NASTIER SCIENCE

There is always a lot of talks, backchannel when anomalies are discovered. 9/11 produced several anomalies, a Pentagon attack where the named aircraft was incapable of such performance, where small plane scraps, in pristine condition, were first seen hours after the supposed “crash” and very real “hard evidence” tells us something else. Not all of the 80 plus videos really disappeared from the Pentagon attack:

With all possible movies of anything potentially computer-generated phonies, particularly anything from our government, the least reliable source on earth, it and it’s phony “mainstream media” arm, even worse in the UK, movies like this are curious. A quote from the 1980 Peter O’Toole film, “The Stuntman:”

You constantly amaze me…….. you don’t go to movies…… what are you a communist?! what were those handcuffs some sort of decoy or disguise? Did you NOT know that King Kong the first was only 3 foot 6 inches tall? He only came up to Fay Wray’s belly button……. If God could do the tricks that we could do…… he would be a happy man!

Here is an opinion, an educated one as I spent some time with a company that built military surveillance satellites which meant I met with top scientists regularly, the video above seems to have come from a satellite.
KH-11 … Imaging Satellite

The appearance of a moving platform, as though the camera were on a UAV or helicopter, is more likely an effect of software compensation for orbital trajectory than anything else.

My other wild guess is that the camera responsible was very far away, not just “miles.”

The “gut feeling” I have is based on two things. It is consistent with the first video the only “officially released” video. We could doubt the new video but there is a total lack of objective evidence to deny its authenticity.

The second video very much reflects the first but also, the pixel count on the projectile itself, matches the typical optical output of a specific orbital platform used by NORAD.

The “math guys” who examined this find one inconsistency. The plane or projectile or missile or whatever is going too fast for a standard “cruise” type missile.

This could indicate that we have an improper frame rate on our video, a likelihood, or that the missile is one designed for a supersonic, up to Mach 2.5, “run” to the target to defeat defense systems, something the US is rumored to have developed for its nuclear-tipped anti-ship missiles.

As for conventional aircraft, the highest speed possible, at altitudes well above the height of the Pentagon is under 250 knots, not 560 knots. Oh, that one was tested also. I accidentally have that video also, 240 knots:

For every bit of “movie magic” used to support any position, the official government conspiracy, which exposure of the phony Iraq intelligence should have proven unreliable many years ago, or those the government attempts to, now get this, suppress or pretend to suppress as “conspiracy nuts,” there is an underlying suppression of very real science, breakthroughs in physics and technology, that make our puny efforts to tell real from imaginary a waste of effort.
National Ignition Facility – Livermore Labs

Here is one secret. Back in 1990, we learned how to reach “critical mass” in nuclear weapons without using large amounts of Uranium 235 or Plutonium.

We found that our weapons were actually using only a small amount of the nuclear material to achieve fission or, as with thermonuclear weapons, the factored increase from use of multiple plutonium pits, up to 5 thus far, which make weapons of either vast power or “detuned” for very minor controlled output possible.

Fission reactions that once required many kilograms of highly enriched uranium are now possible with much less, so much less that we have no idea how small a nuclear weapon can be but with the possible application of nano-technology, we can exceed the wildest dreams of science fiction.

Some of this basic research comes from the “Star Wars” research and more from the suppressed experiments that spent hundreds of billions underwriting the massive super colliders we are told are teaching us how the universe was made.

I so love how billions in “black funding” manages to work itself into projects that by accident might well burn the planet to a cinder or suck half of France and Switzerland down a man-made “black hole.”

GET OUT THAT TIN FOIL HAT
Livermore Labs – Laser Bay

Back in the 1980s, the US and Soviet Union both developed and tested “microwave/X-ray” weapons powered by hydrogen bombs.

Were I to describe what they look like, I guess I would say “take the steel frame of one of the World Trade Center towers, place an H-bomb in the basement and attach it to a mechanism that focused a beam into space that made the “phaser array” of the fictional USS Enterprise (NCC1701C) look like a child’s toy.

Congress funded this and the HAARP system, others too, based on idiotic cover stories about missile defense or communications security.

The actual reason for the development of these systems was “planetary defense.” The systems built under the guise of “Star Wars” were primarily designed for use against giant flying saucers, like out of the movie Independence Day. We built systems that could, were they needed, destroy such a threat handily. They are still deployed.

Imagine if an American president actually spoke of such things? He would obviously be locked up, wouldn’t he?
https://youtube.com/watch?v=Ag44dRO8LEA%3Ffeature%3Doembed%26enablejsapi%3D1

This segment is one of the 5 times President Reagan mentioned the threat of alien invasion. Weapons designed and tested by both the US and the Soviet Union, ones we have heard of, are of immeasurable power.

The “kinetic interceptors” and lasers discussed but never developed as missile defense were nothing but humor. Any missile defense can be defeated easily.

NUCLEAR HUBRIS
Livermore Labs Have ‘Extra’ Security with Gattling Gun Guards

Years ago, Dimitri Khalezov told me that the World Trade Center was destroyed by nuclear weapons.

The “debunking” of his claim was based primarily on the fact, or what some believed to be a fact, that the United States would never, under any circumstances, use nuclear weapons.

It was also based on very purposeful disinformation about the nature of our nuclear arsenal and advances in physics since 1908, essentially the year the atomic bomb became a possibility.

One of history’s nasty little secrets is that Germany had a nuclear weapons program at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute outside Berlin during World War I, one managed by a former Swiss patent clerk. Ah, but who wants to rewrite the bizarre fiction we call “history”…

The issue today, regarding Khalezov’s claims and, more importantly, regarding the kind of people we are and how divorced our military and government are from the will and conscience of the people, that issue is brought to the surface by the proofs from Iraq.

Key statements within this news report make it very clear how misguided Americans have been.

What is proven by this?

America has used nuclear weapons on numerous occasions against targets easily destroyed by our most primitive existing conventional munitions.
The ability to use such weapons with the shield of deniability based on how absurd, how inhumane, and how utterly insane their use has been, has, in itself, been the rationale that has made their use possible.
Once one accepts that rationale, one now is proven, it opens the door to question every story America tells its people as being patently absurd, to the point of telling utterly outlandish lies.

What Have They Been Hiding About 9-11?

What policy does this prove?

What it tells us is that using insanely dangerous weapons, particularly using technologies that have never been publicly acknowledged, and hundreds of weapons fall into that category, few as dangerous as those whose use we can now prove, is, in itself a form of “perfect lie.”

Were one to discuss 9/11, for instance, you could destroy the twin towers with nuclear weapons with absolutely no questions being asked, even if “first responders” began dying of radiation sickness.

All you had to do is claim that “radiation trapped in aging wallboard” simulated the effects of a nuclear explosion.

Then, of course, with no studies commissioned, no data kept, atomic explosion related maladies such as multiple myeloma no longer matter.

With science as it is, “dark science,” nuclear weapons as they are commonly known to most people are an anachronism. Rather than a large bomb to attack an imaginary underground terrorist complex, we would use a nuclear weapon instead.

How can we get away with it?

This is a video of Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld discussing the same terror facilities I mention.
Thermonuclear warhead

A network of such facilities, as attributed to by our former Defense Secretary could only be destroyed using massive thermonuclear weapons. Nothing else could touch them.

The problem, of course, is that after 10 years of searching for these facilities, nothing larger than a small garage was ever found, and it was in a former Soviet facility that had been abandoned for many years.

Yet, no one asked for Rumsfeld to account for his wildly insane claims, claims we now can reasonably assume were acted upon by the use of nuclear weapons on empty, we hope empty, mountain regions of Afghanistan.

In Iraq, these nuclear weapons were used on at least one city where there were no “hardened targets” whatsoever, no armored forces, no “deep bunkers.”

Then when intelligence sources come to us saying these same weapons have been used in our own cities, on our own people, blamed on terrorists, perhaps an earthquake or some other disaster, what and who can we believe anymore?

Was this all a simple genetic experiment, as our video above seems to prove so conclusively?

Why kind of people do such things? What kind of people allows themselves to elect public officials who try to withhold such information?

Our readership certainly indicates enough Americans see this, and you don’t get much more public than this. What kind of people does nothing? What kind of people demand no accounting?

Searches for “Criminal Defense Attorney” and “Swiss Bank” Skyrocket in Washington, DC

Searches for Swiss Bank[1] large
Searches for Swiss Bank[1] large

Google searches for certain terms have literally skyrocketed of late, specifically in Washington, DC.    On January 20, upon the inauguration of Donald Trump, searches for “criminal defense attorney” were three times higher in Washington DC than the entire rest of the United States!

People living and working at Washington, D.C., appear to be very nervous about their potential legal exposure with President Trump back in the White House.

A Google feature that tracks search trends shows that searches for the term “criminal defense lawyer” started to soar in America’s capital city in January.

Google Searches criminal defense attorney DC
Google Searches criminal defense attorney DC

As DOGE began uncovering waste, fraud and abuse throughout USAID and other entities, and clawed-back some $59 million from New York State Bank Accounts after money was sent to pay luxury hotels housing illegal aliens, that same city (Washington, DC) saw searches soar for “Swiss bank” (yellow), “offshore bank” (green), “wire money” (red) and “IBAN” (blue):

Searches for Swiss Bank
Searches for Swiss Bank

HMMMMMMM.  A new President comes to town – after being beaten-up by Lawfare for years – and suddenly, a whole slew of people in the town that the lawfare emanated from, are seeking “criminal defense attorneys.”

AND . . .

When that new President’s DOGE Team starts clawing-back millions in federal money that should not have gone out, a whole slew of other people in that same city, start searching for “Swiss Banks” . . . .  why?   To hide what they stole, maybe?

A whole lot of politicians are screeching about the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) successfully finding out where all the cash has been going.  In my opinion, the ones who screech the loudest/longest, are the ones trying desperately to hide what they did.

The Honeymooners Full Episodes 38 Dial J for Janitor

Has the IDF, unable to make progress militarily against Hezbollah now reverted to what its good at and is now bombing civilians in residential blocks, which it then lyingly calls ‘military installations’ or something equally improbable?

Israeli Army was always trained for rapid movement and flanking

The distances are never large so the emphasis has always been quick advances and swamping and encircling the enemy ans cutting them off with the army and using their Airforce to cut off any Air cover

Unfortunately they simply cannot hold a line for 20–30 days let alone 50 days Or grind their way

That’s an exclusively Russian speciality and likely Iranian and Hezbollah speciality given that

A. Iranians have had over 70 Military drills with Russians in the past 10 years

B. Hezbollah have had Wagner training for five years plus Iranian Advisors

The GRINDING YOUR ENEMY tactic is something US or Israel are clueless about

They like speed, the SHOCK AND AWE strategy

Using Air Forces
Using Land Army to swamp into the enemy territory

Unfortunately for Israel, neither tactic is working well

They are bombing civilians & they advanced 830 meters in the past 17 days and 40 Km in the past 52 days

And their WIA is 5000 at least (WIA = Wounded in Action)

It’s Vietnam all over again

Israel cannot win

Their sole hope is the US enters into the war and somehow turns the tide

That of course would make the hatred of the US the worst in the history of the post WW World among the muslim nations

No American or Israeli would be 100% safe anywhere except maybe Poland

In 1982 , they were within the outskirts of Beirut in 7 days

Now they have barely made 43 Kms in 52 days

You do the math!!!!

And these are just Hezbollah and Hamas

Imagine Iran and the Houthis

And imagine the Russians weighed in on the side of Iran

These are some troubled times

Fiancée Abruptly Dumps Boyfriend, Throws TANTRUM When He Abruptly Takes Away Her Car, Laptop, Etc…

I was coming back from Greece. I had an unopenned pack of shrink wrapped olives. The TSA guy pulled them out, and told me that I wasn’t allowed to take liquids, aerosols or gels onto the plane. I gave them a dumb look. (Given, I’d been in transit for 12-ish hours, without much sleep.)

He repeated that “You aren’t allowed to take liquids, aerosols or gels onto the plane”. I asked him which of those the olives were. The junior screener got his manager, who (while making a gesture to let me through) said “Olives aren’t liquids”.

I laughed about it later, once out of earshot of security.

A well educated elderly lady with cancer of the larynx (voice box) was admitted for a laryngectomy ( removal of voice box). I went over the procedure with her, the potential risks/benefits and outcomes meticulously and in detail, got the consent signed and prepped her for surgery.

Day of surgery dawns and she calls me 10 minutes prior to being shifted to the operating room and tells me that she has decided not to undergo the procedure that day and wants it to be postponed 2 weeks.

I was a first year Surgical Oncology resident and as all first year residents are, was overworked, under nourished and sleep deprived. I could not focus beyond the lost OT time, the list being undone and the imagined anger of my seniors’ to an incomplete OT list.

I ticked her off that this is not time to tell, should have told the previous night, how OT time is precious specially in a busy charitable hospital like ours and how it could have been used to operate on some other patient and used to save life etc.

There was a small tear in her eye that made me stop my ranting and then she haltingly, almost hesitatingly told me, “Sir I am a grandmother to a 4 year old girl, I just realised that I can never again speak to her, there is a lot that a grand mother has to tell her grand child, I want to record voice to be given as message to to her on her birthday, one message for every year till she turns 18.

I was stunned. All the harsh words haunting me, piercing my entire being. I realised that day, we are treating a disease for sure, but more important is to treat the patient in whom the disease resides.

That brief moment in time taught me more about humility, compassion and empathy than anything I had ever learnt. Every time I get angry at a patient, her face dances in front of my eyes, I calm down and make efforts anew.

Mrs. X is etched in memory and forever changed my path.

The Making of Star Trek The Original Series!

China is a huge country with very humble people that are resilient and can take a beating.

Take the trade war and tech war of recent years for reference, China did fight back against the US, but mostly it focused on mitigating the American attack and improving its self-sufficiency. For example when the US had Canada kidnap the daughter of Huawei’s founder and went around the world pressuring countries to ban Huawei, China did not ban iPhone in China in retaliation, or nationalize its factories in China. Instead China hit back hard at Canada, jailing two Canadian spies and sentencing a Canadian drug dealer who was supposed to serve 15 year sentence, to death. When the US increased tariff on Chinese cars, China invited Tesla to build its Gigafactory in China, with free land and tax exemption, robbing the US of a star factory.

If the US does go to war with China, China will respond with the most limited force. For example, China may only sink the carriers coming towards China, or damage them enough so that they have to sail home, not destroy all American carriers around the world like the new US defense secretary suggests, not even every ship in the carrier battlegroup, to leave it open for the US to turn back and negotiate and not leave too much hard feelings for trade and cooperation with the US after the war.

Shorpy

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As a consumer in the UK, I have yet to see a single product marked “Made in USA” (other than specific sports items & sweets in dodgy money laundering stores)

The Chinese however, are a massive exporter to the UK & EU. If it’s not in the stores, Amazon or Temu etc, will have dozens of companies selling the same or similar product.

Iphones, are made in China. Apple tried to make them in the USA, but couldn’t do it without doubling costs. China gas access to more chips, electronic expertise and R&D depts in the private sectors.

I’m certainly not saying the UK is particularly any better in exports (we’re not) but we do have certain high end audio/visual companies, we still make cars, just not British owned anymore.

Face it, you want it, China makes it, Amazon will get it to you tomorrow. No one can compete.

Top Ten YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN SEXY BITS

How many people believe that idiocracy has begun?

The opening scene of Idiocracy is iconic. A smart, responsible couple with great jobs and high IQs fails to produce a child. First because they’re not ready, then because they’ve waited too long and ran out of time. Soon, they’re done for. Cut out of the human genepool.

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The same opening scene intercuts the scenes of the smart, struggling-to-conceive couple with a young football player named Clevon. Clevon has a below-average IQ but he’s a strong, outgoing athlete who irresponsibly sleeps around with many women. Clevon has many children.

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main qimg 3268adb271a62040cae97e610a79be7d

The movie eventually shows what the “Clevon family tree” looks like 75 years later — it’s quite impressive, as you might imagine. He created an absolute shitload of little Clevon’s over the years, who then went and did the same…

I’m not sure if we can quantify or count exactly how many people believe this sort of reality is where we are right now, or where we’re heading. But invariably some of the smartest people I know have either a very small family (one or two kids) or zero. Sometimes zero by choice. Sometimes zero because of bad luck, or because they waited too long…

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main qimg 7ea9d38b06600ae0f25a77f4ef109113 pjlq

Centuries ago, the smartest of people would have large families, too. Choosing not to have a family or to only have a small family was unheard of, and the means to restrict conception weren’t readily available. Now we’re in an age where anyone who has the desire and means NOT to have kids, likely won’t have them. And all those who either put no thought into it or just “go with the flow” are the ones whose genepool is set to inherit this earth.

McHales Navy Season 3 Episode 20

Cutlets with mashed potatoes: Russians’ favorite cafeteria food

This taste is familiar to everyone from childhood.

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screen 2024 11 25 15 05 30

When Russians eat in Soviet-style ‘stolovka’ cafes and office canteens, this dish surely is among the most popular ones.

Also, after being somewhere abroad for a long time or just out of home – cutlets with mashed potatoes (‘kotletki s pyureshkoi’) is the first thing they would cook. Ok, maybe, second, after borsch.

It is also something that every Russian babushka cooks for her beloved grandchildren.

Here are a few secrets behind the delicate taste. For cutlets bread is added to minced meat. And mashed potatoes are made with milk and butter. (And make sure you peel the potatoes before boiling them!)

Check out our ultimate guide on how to cook cafeteria-style cutlets and mashed potatoes

Ocean Of Guilt

Submitted into Contest #150 in response to: Write a story that either starts or ends with someone (or something) saying, “Please, don’t do it.” view prompt

Nil Charbonneau Le Berre

“Please, don’t do it.” Those were the words that always seemed to echo in my head when I was about to finish a robot. Only this time, it was stronger. It was the first robot to have feelings, and I was the creator, the genius. But the voice continued, like an alarm, it shouted and whispered and pleaded and cried. But it was always too late. There wasn’t any sense left to reach anymore. Merely blank, absent-minded actions. A thick fog clogged my view. All I could see were the cables, shooting out, like red bloody veins, of their square metal cage and my hands, covered by white plastic surgical gloves. A vision flashed before my eyes. They were stained. Stained by blood.”You know whose blood that is…” The alarm said. I shook my head. No. No, I don’t. I did, though. No. Stop. I tried to concentrate on my work. Already, concentration was but a far-fetched conception. All that was left now were my mere perfunctory movements, guided by my instincts, or a greater force, the force of fame, the force of power. The force of our leader, Isaac. I was being controlled, and it felt great.What the… my ears. My ears! They hurt. Something was ringing, like a cry of suffering animals. My heart raced. It pounded like wild stallions running in a field, like a gigantic hammer falling heavily on my chest. Suddenly, curtains fell over my eyes.I couldn’t see anything. I was blinded by the noise. My organs were all screaming in agony. No! It didn’t matter. I was going to finish this, even if I turned blind. It was simple, wasn’t it? I’d built robots thousands of times, I knew what to do, even for such a complex one.”No! No, it isn’t simple. Stop! Think about the consequences. About what you did.” The alarm hollered. But I shook my head, dismissing reason. I mustn’t think about it.”Just a bit more…” I muttered, as if asleep. I was close. But at what cost? Stop! Enough thinking. Thinking is bad. Bad, bad!”No, thinking is human!” The voice screamed. “That stupid Isaac got inside your head. Thinking is human… thinking is human… thinking is human… human… human… human… human…” Echoes. No more echoes… Please. No more thinking… I tried to shut down my brain, but it was hard. The alarm was out to get me.”Thinking is human…” the alarm repeated.I felt ropes tighten around my neck. I knew perfectly well what I was doing, and yet, I didn’t. Why was I doing it? Why did I do what I did? Why didn’t I simply let her go? Stop! Get back to work! I had to keep on going, to shut off this stupid voice that kept on screaming at me.”THEN HUMAN IS BAD!” I screamed. “Bad, bad, bad!” I cannot be human. I have to obey. I have to obey. The ringing got louder. No… No, enough! My vision cleared slightly. I could see my white hands and the cables. I was almost finished, the suffering was almost finished.”Just a bit more…” I was trying to reassure myself. I was on the verge of tears.  I had to finish. I saw the blurry faces of my colleagues, but most importantly, their eyes, filled with greed and impatience that stared at me hungrily. I twisted one last time; the cables were done and organised.I held my breath. It was time. I put my tools down on the table’s hard surface with a clatter. My wide eyes stared at what I had created with wonder. I reached for the metal trapdoor on the robot’s abdomen. The edges were so sharp, it felt so smooth and perfect. The metal was cold against my fingers. All I had to do was close it and plug the cable that dangled from it in the power outlet… A second… Just a second for the robot to charge… And then, fame. The glad shouts and satisfied comments of my colleagues, their fakely warm hugs, and fame. Fame and recognition.”Come on…” they pressed. Their voices were distant and slowed down as I plunged deep inside a suffocating ocean. I was getting closer, closer to a sweltering underwater cave of unconsciousness. There, my every move would be guided by something, someone. My thoughts would be controlled. Everything would be so easy, so simple. Nothing to worry about. I could be just like the robot I was creating. I would be famous. Just living my entire life in a deep abyss. I shivered with pleasure; I wanted that. I wanted it so bad, but the voice wouldn’t have it.”Greta was human.”I almost fell back in disarray. My head shot out of the ocean I had plunged in, the one I was drowning in. My eyes widened. Greta was human, it was true! Then I heard her voice.”You’re killing me. You’re killing me, dad!” She was screaming at me. She slammed the door. She shouldn’t be screaming at me. “You’re always trying to find something for your robot. I don’t give a damn about your robot!” She had said as I went in the corridor after her.I shook my head. I couldn’t think about this! I grabbed my robot, the fruit of so many years’ work, and ran. Ran like a crazy man across the cold tiles of the laboratory. Behind I heard the surprised shouts and boisterous screams and footsteps of my colleagues trying to grab me, bring me back to my work. But I ran. I didn’t even bother to open the door. I braced myself and ran through it, bursting into the corridor. I kept running, running to the emergency staircase, and raced down the steps four by four, jumping over the last six ones, and shot out onto the road, where I kept running, onto the highway, not stopping for the planes or the cars, not stopping for the robots carrying the women and men, nor for garbage-bots laying down heaps of metal scraps and rotten tree sized pumpkins, I ran. But my legs were already giving out, my breath was short and I ached all over. But I kept running, I ran up to my building, where I ran up the stairs, and pushed open my apartment door. I bolted the five locks and pushed my sofa to block it. I rushed to my large window,collapsed on the floor, the robot on my chest, as the curtain’s metallic sheet slowly started its descent. I turned and looked at the grey sky. How sad it looked. Once, when I was thirty, I travelled to Africa to see the real sky. I wanted to know if the paintings and descriptions were real. But when I got there it was only to see that the richer countries had planted industries in it, and it was already filled with ugly clouds. Most of those industries, sadly, belonged to Isaac. Someone told me that when I was small, about three years old, I had seen the sky, but I don’t really remember it. With a clack, the curtain hit the ground. I clutched the robot. It would only be mine, not the world’s. It had always been mine. Its thoughts, its feelings. The world wouldn’t have my child’s brain at their mercy. Fame didn’t seem so desirable anymore. I knew what I had to do to bring it to life. I knew what I had already done to bring it to life. I heard her again.”Dad! What are you doing?!”Nobody would know what happened. Nobody would find her where I was bringing her. That’s when I knew what I could do to give my robot feelings. All I had to do was simple. All I had to have was just in front of me.I looked at the robot, and darted into my room. As I fell to my knees and put the plug in the outlet, I caught a glimpse of a picture. Greta’s picture. In that split millisecond, time stopped, my heart melted. Her soft, pure hazel eyes, her short brown hair made me want to cry. She was waiting for me. I remember her face, in tears, as she took her bag and her belongings.”You’re killing me, dad. Killing me!”She also said that, as a child, she had sometimes gone for full days without food because I was too caught up in my creations. That had been the first time I had wanted to go back in time.”I’ll be waiting for you, dad. Once you understand.”And she had left. I remember my red anger as I pursued her in the corridor, scalpel in hand, and her terrified high pitched screams when I brought her inside. And her mercy pleads.”Stop! Stop dad, you’re killing me, you’re killing me! Please don’t do this! Don’t do this!”I remember holding them, so slippery and slimy. It was still throbbing slightly, and blood was oozing out. I just had to do a simple transfer. No more waiting. I had waited for so long already. Once she was in what I had created, everything would be simple. I thought that she would forgive me.But I understand now. I had to leave this robot behind and join her. Only, it was too late. The plug was in.Ding! The robot lifted its head. In its pitch black beady eyes, you could distinguish confusion. But when it looked at me… I saw the disappointment. The sadness. I saw Greta.I ran out of the room to the kitchen and aggressively pulled each drawer, fumbling for a knife. I had to end this. Again. I couldn’t live with it. I couldn’t. As I ran back to my room, I heard the angry voices of my ex-colleagues pounding on my door, trying to open it, but I ignored them. I dived into my room and lifted my knife. The robot looked at me fearfully, but with a wondrous gaze. An almost loving gaze. I stood there, and a connection seemed to weave itself, one single thread, between us. Greta was already dead. Was she though? This wasn’t her… though there was a part of her in there. But I remember.As my white gloves put the brain in, I felt enlightenment. It was a new beginning. For me, for her.But I know now that it is too late to find her. I felt drops running down my cheeks. I had wasted my daughter’s life. But now I had a second chance, an opportunity. I was offered a do-over. My knife hung by a thread in the air. I had done it once, why couldn’t I do it again? The robot lay trembling on my wall, as it whispered that heart-breaking:”Please, don’t do this. ”

Slow Cooker Ribs

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8fafc5b5eb5ebe2906232cdcc8c1f468

Prep: 5 min | Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 3 to 4 pounds pork baby back ribs
  • Kosher or sea salt, to taste
  • Ground black pepper, to taste
  • 2 cups barbecue sauce, divided (store-bought or homemade)*

Instructions

  1. Line a baking sheet with foil.
  2. Remove the membrane from the back of the ribs: use your fingers to get underneath and loosen the membrane along one side of the ribs, and then pull off the membrane.
  3. If needed, cut the racks of ribs into smaller sections so that they will fit better in your slow cooker.
  4. Season both sides of the ribs with salt and pepper. If you’re cooking them immediately, proceed to the next step. If you want to season your ribs overnight for deeper flavor, cover them and keep them in the fridge until you’re ready to cook them.
  5. Measure one cup of barbecue sauce. Place one rack or section of ribs in the slow cooker and cover it with a layer of barbecue sauce. Repeat the process with the remaining racks or sections of ribs and what remains of that one cup of barbecue sauce.
  6. Cook on LOW heat for 8 to 10 hours, or on HIGH heat for 4 to 5 hours, depending on how many racks of ribs you are cooking and the temperature of your slow cooker. (If you have a small slow cooker and end up having to stack your rib sections more than two high, they will need more time to cook fully.) Burnt barbecue sauce is a pain to clean off of your slow cooker, so don’t leave these too much longer than the suggested cooking time. When the ribs are tender, gently remove the racks and lay them out on your foil-lined baking sheet.
  7. Reuse those meaty juices and combine the liquid from your slow cooker with the reserved barbecue sauce, then reduce it over medium heat until the sauce reaches your desired consistency. (This is optional, you can also discard the liquid from your slow cooker and just use the remaining BBQ sauce as is.)
  8. Allow the ribs to cool slightly before cutting them into individual ribs or portions. Brush the remaining one cup of barbecue sauce on top of the ribs.
  9. If desired, you can also place the ribs under the broiler for a few minutes to caramelize and set the sauce.
  10. Serve the ribs with extra BBQ sauce.

Notes

* I prefer Sweet Baby Ray’s.

 

The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb 1964 Film in English, Terence Morgan, Ronald Howard, Fred Clark

Full movie for free.

Yes, but it was a weird situation.

I can’t drive due to medical reasons, so I bike everywhere. I have biked 20 miles into town for groceries and back home, I’ve biked out to the stores, post office, library, everything. Well I wasn’t paying attention to the time and it was starting to get dark, that time when the street lights start coming on and all and I still had a long way to get home. Suddenly I hear a loud BEWOOOP! from behind me and told to stop. I do so, and am freaking out cuz I’ve got the lights on the bike, im on the right side, I’m on the shoulder of the road (highway) and I’m certain I’m fine.

Turns out he has seen me biking before and knows I have a decent ride to still go, and it was a Friday night so lots of people go out to drink and he didn’t want to get a call bout some nut having flattened a bicyclist on the road or worse. So he offered to put my bike in the back and give me a ride home.

Fairly risque.

So this guy getting a tour of the hospital before his big surgery. As he passes a room he looks in and sees a man reading a Playboy and masturbating. Shocked he turns to the doctor and asked what is going on.

The doctor explains that Mr. Thompson has a condition that requires him to masturbate every day otherwise he will be in great pain. He will get an operation to fix that soon.

As they continue down the hall he looks in another open door. There he sees a man getting oral sex from a very beautiful nurse. Again he is surprised and asks the doctor what is going on.

His doctor tells him, “Mr. Jones has the same condition as Mr. Thompson but he has a better medical plan.”

U.S. pawnshop owner donating WWII album to China received a warm welcome in China

Two years after donating a World War II photo album, Evan Kail arrived in Beijing on Saturday to begin his first trip to China.

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His visit drew huge online and offline crowds. Tens of millions joined live streams to welcome him, while many greeted him at the airport.

Evan said, “I received the warmest welcome when l got off the plane. I still can’t believe all the people that were waiting to say hello. It really warmed my heart and l’m so excited to be here.”

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On Sunday, when Kail came to Tiananmen Square to watch the flag-raising ceremony, he received an old-fashioned military coat from a young man. This is the coolest coat he has ever had and Chinese people are very hospitable, said Kail.

Kail said he would stay in China for about a month and visit a few cities, including Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai and Nanjing.

It was a complete crazy train

Bonnie Ware spent eight years working in palliative care, spending countless hours kindly attending to the needs of dying patients. She typically lived with them in their homes. Most only lived for 3–12 weeks after her arrival.

She’d gone into this field just looking for a job, and figured it would allow her to help people, and spare her from paying rent as she did. As you might imagine, this profession was quite intense, but her tenure proved deeply moving and changed her perspective on life.

As Bonnie stayed at homes, some patients had a near endless stream of family who came by, eager to visit with them and say their goodbyes. Others, laid down their beds, alone, for almost for the entirety of Bonnie’s stay with few, if any, family members visiting.

What Bonnie hadn’t expected, was that much of her role would involve listening. Many patients were eager to have conversations, and in need of company.

They were often reflective, talking about all they’d done. All of them spoke of their regrets in life.

And as they talked, Bonnie noticed a few themes in the things she heard. So she began documenting their conversations. The five most common regrets, in no particular order, are summarized as follows:

  1. “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”
  2. “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.”
  3. “I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.”
  4. “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.”
  5. “I wish that I had let myself be happier.”

The final example was interesting, “let” myself be happier. Meaning, many people felt they had happiness within reach, but could never attain it because of their own decisions.

Do with these what you may. If you winced reading any of them, you might be at risk of that regret.

The fruits of DOGE labor

A major Republican player has charged onto the scene, bringing the researched facts, figures, and graphs showing interconnections between individuals, NGOs, and charities to shine bright lights on dark corruption. It’s how DOGE knew to zero in on USAID right out of the gate.

Exposing where the money flows -DataRepublican

Thousands of data have been collected.

You are encouraged to use it to investigate anyone or any group and sound the alarm.

Based on the above page, you are directed to this page, which creates a graph to illustrate connections.

THE AGE OF CITIZEN INVESTIGATORS AND JOURNALISM HAS ARRIVED.

The WRONG Way to Escape the USA

Lox, Bagel and Cream Cheese

Lox, Bagel and Cream Cheese is one of my favorite comfort foods. I had this wonderful sandwich for the first time at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco many years ago. This is best enjoyed with a cup of piping hot black coffee.

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Ingredients

  • 1 bagel, split and toasted or untoasted
  • About 1/3 cup cream cheese, divided
  • Several thinly-sliced pieces lox
  • 1 slice onion
  • 1 slice tomato (optional)
  • Salt and pepper
  • A few capers, if desired
  • Sprigs of fresh dill, if desired
  • Hot black coffee (optional)

Instructions

  1. Slather one-half of the bagel with cream cheese, more or less to your liking. Add the lox to the top of the cream cheese.
  2. Top with onion, then tomato.
  3. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
  4. Garnish with capers and fresh dill, if desired.
  5. Now slather the remaining bagel half with the remaining cream cheese. Set on top of the first half.

Should the US annex Taiwan and show China who’s boss?

Our friend Shun Bot, the favorite pro US panic monger already says US is the boss of Taiwan and controls Taiwan

So it’s game over for China😁

The Reality is a bit different

A. US doesn’t give a Squat about Taiwan

US doesn’t care squat for Taiwanese Independence

Taiwan is a small island that is useless except for a miniature version of a factory making stuff for the US

Unlike Singapore which diversified into Financial Services & High Technology thanks to some intuitive thinking, Taiwan is Israel 2.0 – a Small Island that exists to pander to US and it’s needs

Say tomorrow China says “Ok. You are Independent”

The US would be aghast and shattered

That’s the last thing they want

B. US & the Mainland want Reunification for different reasons

The US want to use Taiwan as a Bait to force the Chinese to attack Taiwan and go to war on the South China Sea, overthrow the CPC and unify China under a system loyal to the West

This was an idea that originated back in 1992 under Bill Clinton

Clinton wanted to introduce capitalism into China to weaken the Communist Party and then unify China under a Loyal Slavish Democracy

It didn’t work of course

Now China is top strong and stable

Meanwhile China wants to reunify Taiwan as part of their National Policy

C. Taiwanese aren’t as Pro US as Shun Bot says

Taiwanese are absolutely not Pro US

Thats why I believe he gets stuff from Q Anon or Marco Rubio or Palki Sharma😁

Simple thing

The Taiwanese elections showed it

William Lai secured 40% of the Votes

This means 60% voted against him

Of the two others -The KMT Guy & Ko Wen Je polled 60% of the Voters

Both favor Cross Straits relationships and KMT favors closer ties

If Taiwan was indeed that Pro US, Lai would have polled 60–65 percent of the votes

Maia Sandhu polled 55% votes in Moldova and we know how bitterly divided Moldova is among Pro Europe and Pro Russians

So a guy who polls 40% and supports the US against China – is definitely NOT endorsing Majority Opinion

Plus if they bring in new guys to split the vote – that’s just electoral tactics like BJP employs in India to win seats

The majority still want positive China relations or unification

Plus the Parliamentary results

KMT won a majority

DPP won 37.4% Seats

Again for comparison in the first election in Poland after communism, Lech Walesa’s Solidarity won 70.2% seats

D. Taiwanese are Chinese

Taiwanese are Chinese

That’s a simple fact

They aren’t American and dont identify themselves as American

They have the same culture, same language as the Chinese
Monkey King craze sweeps Taiwan sparking discussions on cultural tradition
While gamers in Taiwan are not immune to the infectious attraction of Black Myth: Wukong, the Chines
https://www.shine.cn/news/nation/2408271246/

Best example is Black Myth Wukong outsold every other Japanese AAA Game in Taiwan and broke all records

So to answer your question

If the US are stupid enough to Annex Taiwan – the Taiwanese will revolt en masse against the DPP and the US and welcome Chinese Intervention

Again best example is Hong Kong

They said so much about Democracy and how Hong Kong people are furious and revolting

It’s been 5 Years and HK is as stable as ever and even the West knows THAT’S OVER

Doesn’t matter if they have 13 Aircraft Carriers or 130 or 1300

Finally

How many times has a Country where US has intervened managed to prosper in the past 70/75 Years post WW II?

The Answer is ZERO

Vietnam – Disaster

Iraq – Disaster

Afghanistan – Disaster

Ukraine – Super Duper Disaster

You think Fifth Times a Charm????

Taiwanese Chinese have pretty High IQ

They ain’t Dumbos

Shun Bot of course needs to go to the actual cultural history of both nations and how the people actually think

Vlogs, Election Trends, Neutral Posts on Singaporean Social Media (Actually a bit pro taiwan actually), Talk to some main landers if he is indeed Chinese which I highly doubt since he responds to Chinese text by Google Translate ,so my guess is Indian based on population on Quora

Changing politicians

Not really rude, but bizarre…

I was 16 and had just started dating a gal from the same high school. I had met her parents a couple of times and all seemed OK, but I did notice they were pretty big drinkers.

They invited me to stay for dinner one evening, and they both had been drinking, but I said ok.

About mid dinner, the parents started arguing, and the dad just suddenly backhanded the mom in the face. My g/f and her sister and two brothers, all younger than her started yelling for me to do something. I was just stunned and frozen. Everything calmed down and we finished dinner in total silence.

The mom got up to clear the table and took a few empty dishes to the sink. All the sudden I saw a quick movement out of the corner of my eyes, and the mom hit the dad with a stainless skillet on the side of his head hard enough to knock him out cold and he fell to the floor. The mom then continued to clear off the table while the dad lay there.

The kids got up and helped the mom. I had no clue what the hell to say or do. I just left.

I dated that gal for about a year and was always over at her house, but fortunately never had to witness something like that again.

How awkward…

A Super-Material That Can Be Made In The Kitchen (Starlite Part 1)

MM makes coffee themed AI

With a handful of bread themes.

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Richard Wolff on the decline of the US empire and the denial of the US

The Endless Now

Submitted into Contest #154 in response to: Write a story featuring an element of time-travel or anachronism. view prompt

Jon Casper

Lawrence “Nova” Novikov thought the slate-gray skies on Mount Mallett had conspired against him. Raindrops stung like bees. Hailstones threatened to shred his vinyl parka like buckshot. And the wind! Gusts from every direction tossed him on the narrow mountainside trail, threatening to fling him into the deep canyon at his side. But he persisted, planting each footfall with care in the lashing precipitation.Between slaps of thunder, he paused to fumble his GPS wayfinder from the pocket of his soaked trousers. Only a half a kilometer to go, he thought. He squinted into the monochrome panorama. I should be able to see it by now.Nova winced as lightning sparked like a camera flash. Thunder rattled the ground beneath his feet. Almost no time between. Too close.He plodded on.Every hair on his body raised. A moment later, another bolt of lightning detonated the gnarled skeleton of a desiccated fir, three meters up the hillside to his right. His ears compressed painfully, the amplitude of the ensuing shockwave too great even to register as sound. He curled into a reflexive crouch, arms wrapped around his head.Cowering, he did not see the smoldering remnant of the tree until it was far too close to avoid. One of the falling timber’s larger branches batted his temple as it splintered into the canyon.The world darkened to a silent black.* * *Dozens of candles surrounded Nova in the rustic log cabin. The storm outside shook the door on its hinges, as if trying to invade the warm space. He breathed in wood smoke and the hint of something savory bubbling on the hearth.“For a minute there, I thought you might not make it.” A shadowed figure sat cross-legged in an armchair across the room. His gravelly voice was more growl than speech.“W-what is this place?” Nova asked. “Who are you?”“Am I not the one you sought?” The figure rose into the flickering candlelight, whose warm glow accentuated the man’s unkempt mop of wiry, copper hair and flowing, red-gray beard, creating the illusion that his entire head was aflame. “There’s no one else up here.” 

Nova swallowed. “Are you … Thorne?”

 

The man nodded. “I am.”

 

“How did I get here? The last thing I remember I was … there was a tree, and—”

 

“I saw it all.” Thorne waved his arm to the front of the cabin. There, outside the window, a flicker of lightning illuminated the distant hillside where Nova had just been struck. “You were lucky.”

 

The corner of Nova’s mouth quirked up. That would be a first, he thought.

 

“Shall we get down to business?” said Thorne.

 

As Nova sat up, throbbing pain marched through his skull. “They … they say you can send people back to their youth. To re-live their lives, with all their present memories intact.”

 

Thorne nodded. “I have done this.”

 

“I would like to do that.” Nova rifled through his vest pocket, withdrew a thick envelope, and extended it to his host. “I would like to be eighteen again.”

 

“Why?”

 

Nova frowned. “Does it matter? Suffice it to say my life is a joke. I want to … no, I need to correct some mistakes. I need to know … how it might have been.”

 

“I see.” Thorne sighed, pocketing the envelope. He scraped his armchair across the room before Nova and sank into it. “In that case, before we proceed, you first must hear the story of the last man who did this.”

 

* * *

 

The last vestiges of Stephen’s life in the world outside his Otisville prison cell had crumbled. Marlene, his soon-to-be ex-wife, had just departed the medium-security penitentiary’s visiting room, having informed him of her plans: A dish of warm divorce papers would be the last meal she’d serve him. Stephen’s lifelong business partners—two brothers from his college fraternity—had both taken their own lives many months before, in lieu of public disgrace and prison terms of their own. And his own parents, to whom he had always been their eyes’ apple, had summarily disowned him in their humiliation.

 

If only I could go back and make the right decisions, Stephen thought, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

 

He believed he knew the exact decisions that had led him into his ultimate cage.

 

In his sophomore year of college, he’d met Ellen at a party at the Sigma Chi house. Smitten with the music major’s understated beauty and unconventional, quirky style, he’d focused on her to the exclusion of everything else—including his studies. In response to his flagging grades, his parents had introduced their son to Marlene, a Senator’s daughter, along with a choice: Entertain Marlene and keep their good graces; or continue his pursuit of Ellen and lose their riches forever.

 

Oh, Ellen, he thought, if only I’d known.

 

Married life with Marlene had initially been contented, if not happy. He would soon, however, run afoul of her appetites for wealth and status. His entrepreneurial stumbles as the owner of an art gallery had all too often required parental subsidy to make ends meet on Marlene’s lavish budget. In response, Marlene had arranged a dinner party, at which she’d arranged for Stephen’s fraternity brothers to offer him a position with their successful hedge fund. Marlene, much as his parents, had presented to him a choice: Lucrative employment with his college mates; or a messy, costly divorce.

 

If only I’d tried a little longer, he thought, my gallery could have succeeded.

 

Throughout Stephen’s five-year sentence at Otisville, his elderly cell mate had spoken at length of Temporal Mind Displacement, and of the enigmatic man rumored to have perfected the discipline. Upon Stephen’s release after five years, he’d made his way up Mount Mallett in search of that man.

 

* * *

 

Thorne ladled from the pot on the hearth. “Here. Eat.”

 

Nova scarfed the delicious stew. Between spoonfuls, he spoke with a full mouth. “So, what happened? Did you send him back like he wanted?”

 

“He got what he’d asked for.” Firelight reflected in Thorne’s steely eyes. “Does a man ever know what he truly wants?”

 

“I do,” said Nova. “That is, I know what I don’t want.”

 

“Regret can be a persuasive demon. It doesn’t always have your best interests at heart.”

 

Nova set down the empty bowl. “Tell me what happened to Stephen.”

 

* * *

 

Suddenly, Stephen was a twenty-year-old college sophomore again. His life was a blank canvas stretching in all directions before him, and he decided that Ellen would be the one to paint it with him. Together, they would launch his art gallery and fill it with her work.

 

His parents, as they’d promised, wrote him out of their will, and stopped funding his college education. With the limited financial aid he’d qualified for, it wasn’t enough to afford tuition at the prestigious university. Not willing to leave Ellen, he’d transferred to a community college across town, where he would complete his business degree. Ellen had been thrilled at first to take Stephen into her off-campus studio apartment, but it wasn’t long before the canvas of their future grew brittle and yellow.

 

He was constantly underfoot of her art projects. Between both their studies and his part-time job, their free hours as a fledgling couple grew scant, and she grew ever more distant. Late one night, Ellen returned, make-up smeared and hair disheveled. She confessed that she’d met someone else, and had been with the rival suitor that very night. Stephen would need to find another place to live.

 

His parents rejected his attempts to atone. The Senator’s daughter, Marlene, had already taken up with another young man. Stephen had cost them their ticket to unprecedented social affluence. Moreover, they’d already had to suffer the indignity of acknowledging their son had gone wayward, sacrificing his family name for an utterly common woman.

 

Stephen was homeless, unable to keep his job, unable to focus on his studies. He had no one to turn to, and nothing left to believe in.

 

* * *

 

Thorne pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses.

 

Nova sipped the caramel elixir. “So, you’re saying Stephen was doomed either way.”

 

“Doomed? No. That’s too strong a word. He wasn’t doomed, his dreams were.”

 

“What is a man without his dreams, his ambitions, his legacy?”

 

“We are what we are.” Thorne shrugged. “This moment is all that is real. The words I’m speaking are already an illusion by the time they reach your ears. The future is nothing but the aggregate sum of every present that will ever be.”

 

Nova scoffed. “If that’s the case, why bother having goals at all? Look, all I know is, I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my life, and I want a ‘do-over.’ Can you help me, or not?”

 

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

 

“So far, all you’ve done is tell stories about some guy who made a bunch of bad decisions. That doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

 

“Of course you will. Everyone does. Every decision you make fragments into a thousand new paths, leading to new choices. New opportunities to thrive—or to screw up your life—and everything in between.” Thorne crossed to the hearth to set another log on the fire. “Anyway, you haven’t heard the end of Stephen’s story yet. There’s more.”

 

Nova rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Stephen climbed up Mount Mallett a second time, with a new plan.

 

He would return once more to age twenty, and once again assent to his arranged relationship with Marlene. But this time he’d employ another method of satisfying her materialistic hunger. With his knowledge of the future, he could jockey financial investments in various Internet startups and cryptocurrencies to become a wealthy man. That way, he would never need to team up with his fraternity brothers, and get caught up in their fraudulent schemes that had landed him in prison.

 

And it worked. Before he’d even graduated from college, he’d amassed an eight-figure net worth. Marlene publicly gushed over her brilliant, successful boyfriend, and delighted in their lavish, hundred-guest destination wedding at the St. Regis Resort in Bora Bora. She gave him three beautiful children, and managed their expansive Connecticut estate and its full-time staff, while he continued to parlay their riches into close to a billion dollars.

 

That kind of wealth changes a man.

 

It became a challenge to distinguish true allies from sycophants. Even his own family and friends were suspect. Does Marlene only love me for my wealth? Do my parents only love me for my success? Do my own children only love me for the gifts and advantages I afford them? Are my friendships only as enduring as the lavish parties I throw?

 

Evenings and weekends, he found himself habitually dressing down and sneaking out to working-class neighborhood bars. There, he could interact with people he would never suspect of wanting anything from him but his genuine companionship.

 

And that’s where he met Claire.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you were trying to talk me out of this,” said Nova. “All that sounds pretty good to me. I’m sure I’d be able to sift out the chaff with my friends and relatives.”

 

“You may think so, but until you are in that position, you really don’t know. And even if you think you do know someone’s heart, there’s always a niggling doubt, there to sour whatever tentative goodwill you’re able to muster.”

 

Nova crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, anyway, it sounds like Stephen had the best of both worlds. All the money and power he’d ever need, plus an outlet for true friendship with the working class folks. What’s wrong with that?”

 

Thorne chuckled. “Plenty. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the working class folks don’t take kindly to multi-millionaires ‘slumming it’ with them.”

 

* * *

 

With Claire at his side, Stephen was on top of the world. He’d furnished himself an apartment in the suburbs to keep up appearances, and invented a whole back story about his blue collar life for all his chums at the bar. They’d all go out bowling or playing pool after a hard day’s work. Claire would cling to his arm the whole time in doting admiration.

 

His double life was just what he’d needed to satisfy his desires for both material comfort and genuine connection. He could have happily lived out his days juggling both identities. But, as it happens, secrets have a way of seeping out of even the tightest seams.

 

After a string of late-afternoon meetings one day, Stephen grinned to find several missed calls from Claire. How she misses me when I’m not around, he thought. Hurrying to Claire’s apartment, he found her front door ajar. A sweet, metallic aroma hung in the eerie stillness.

 

In the living area, he found Claire slumped on the sofa with a bullet hole in her forehead. The wall behind her had become a Pollock painting of blood and brain. He rushed to her side, shutting the lids on her lifeless eyes, taking her hand … weeping.

 

A voice came from behind him, in the kitchen. “Hello, Stephen.”

 

“Marlene!” Stephen stood and backed away, his fingers stained with Claire’s blood. “What have you done?”

 

“Your little hussy there called me this morning after she saw your face in the paper,” Marlene spat. “She was none too happy that you’d lied to her. She told me everything. All your bullshit. Your secret life. This here”—she waved toward the deceased—“is what you get for betrayal, Stephen. Do you have any idea how humiliated I am?” She drew a snub-nose pistol from her purse.

 

Staring down the barrel of the gun, Stephen’s intestines roiled. “Marlene, Honey, please. We can work this out. Put the gun away.” He stepped toward her, hands raised.

 

“Stay where you are!” she commanded.

 

It was all over in seconds. Stephen lunged for the weapon and fought to extricate it from her fingers. But in the tussle, the trigger depressed. The shot temporarily deafened him, trailed by a reedy, high-pitched ringing.

 

Marlene’s eyes glassed over before she crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from her chest into the pile carpet.

 

* * *

 

Thorne turned to stand by the window. His shoulders drooped. He craned his head skyward and sighed. The storm had softened to a steady rain. The fireplace snapped and hissed.

 

Nova frowned and knitted his brow, considering the tale.

 

“You see, it doesn’t do any good,” said Thorne. “You might think your life is a mess, but it could always be worse. There is no more guarantee that you can make things better in the past than in the present. All that matters is the endless now, and what you do with it. The present is your perpetual gift to the future.”

 

Nova stood and shook out his stale muscles. His clothes had mostly dried from the arid wood fire, despite the humidity outdoors.

 

“I think I’m going to leave now,” said Nova. “I-I’ve changed my mind.”

 

“Wise man.” Thorne put his hand on Nova’s shoulder. “Then you may have this back.” He held out the envelope full of cash.

 

“You keep it,” said Nova. At Thorne’s protest, he smiled and said, “Call it the going rate for stew and whiskey in these parts.”

 

Nova pulled on his parka, cinched the hood straps, and took his first step into the present.

 

And he never looked back.

Exiled: The Real Impact of Divorce on Men

Shorpy

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No way China will depend on the US for anything else till at least the year 3000! China remember the century of humiliation from 1942–1949 as though it is yesterday! China and its 1.4 billion people collectively says no fxxking way will they accept the obnoxious nonsense from the US trying to keep the Chinese race dependent on them!

if they can go to the far side of the moon and back, semiconductor is a piece of cake! To be honest China’s good nature to share a piece of cake with the west! China thought wrongly that Intel and ASML will be happy to get 400 out of 1000 bucks per smartphones, PCs, Laptops, TVs. On earth which China makes 100 million a year! After all China can do what it does best to make stuffs at the most efficient and effective manner that no one can even come close!

But no, the US wants to stop China! China says ok we will get back the 400 bucks multiply by 100 million too! The good nature and the sense of give and take don’t work with the US! China says over our dead body! The US picked o the wrong guy! China has the most determination and integrity to drive them to replaced any and every thing the US could possibly threaten them!

Biden AUTHORIZES Ukraine to use Long-Range Missiles to attack deep interior Russia

2:11 PM EST — About one hour ago, U.S. President Joe Biden GRANTED permission for Ukraine to use long-range weapons to attack deep interior Russia.

Developing very fast, check back for updates below.

UPDATE 2:15 PM EST —

There are differing reports coming in regarding this issue.  Some of the reports say “long-range missiles” while other reports say “long-range ATACMS”

WHAT ARE “ATACMS?”

The MGM-140 Army Tactical Missile System (ATACMS) is a supersonic tactical ballistic missile designed and manufactured by the US defense company Ling-Temco-Vought (LTV), and later Lockheed Martin through acquisitions.

It uses solid propellant and is 13 feet (4.0 m) long and 24 inches (610 mm) in diameter, and the longest-range variants can fly up to 190 miles (300 km).

The missiles can be fired from the tracked M270 Multiple Launch Rocket System (MLRS) and the wheeled M142 High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS).

An ATACMS launch container (pod) has one rocket but a lid patterned with six circles like a standard MLRS rocket lid to prevent an enemy from discerning what type of missile is loaded.

EFFECT ON RUSSIA

The immediate effect upon Russian military forces engaged in the Ukraine conflict is severe.  Russia has much of its Ukraine supply lines and spare forces WITHIN RANGE of the longest-range ATACMS.

The ma below, created by the Institute for the Study of War, shows how much of western Russia can now be attacked by Ukriane, using ATACMS:

ISW ATACMS Range
ISW ATACMS Range

UPDATE 2:35 PM EST —

The the New York Times is now reporting this story, saying “the Biden Administration has for the first time authorized the Ukrainian Military to use U.S-Supplied Long-Range Missiles, including ATACMS, against Russian Territory.”

So it is not simply ATACMS, it is also Long-range missiles.

It was just last week that the Russian FOreign Ministry took the unusual step of reminding the collective West that allowing Ukraine to use west-supplied, long-range missiles to attack deep interior Russia would make the collective west “parties to the conflict” because those long-range missiles require satellites to guide them to target.  THe Foreign Ministry reminded everyone that Ukraine does not HAVE any satellites.

So in order for those missiles to hit targets in Russia, the missiles need active satellite guidance from US/EU/NATO satellites, and that active guidance makes the West “combatants” against Russia.

The Foreign Ministry then said “there mere granting of permission for the use of such missiles will result in an imminent and devastating response against the West.”

As of about 1:00 PM eastern US time today, Sunday, 17 November 2024, that permission has now been given.

Welcome to World War 3.

 

UPDATE 3:04 PM EST —

Multiple confirmations that Ukrainian forces are preparing for their initial long-range operations against Russia.

Running on Time

Submitted into Contest #154 in response to: Write a story featuring an element of time-travel or anachronism. view prompt

E Canafax

“We’re running out of time.”I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew all too well that one statement held the increasingly narrow key to everything.The deep voice who’d uttered the obvious statement came from a man sitting across from me. He was short in stature, at least eighty, and underwhelming with each feature. The only exception to this underwhelming presence was his eyes; they seemed wise and ancient which wasn’t exactly surprising in an older face but they seemed to have seen more than could possibly have been seen in anyone’s lifetime. They seemed to contain the secrets of the universe. The only thing that fit those eyes was his mysterious personality which suited them perfectly. For whatever reason, I trusted the eyes unreservedly. Although perhaps one day I’d come to regret it.“Then we must go forward with the plan.” He looked at me thoughtfully and I unconsciously stood straighter.“Yes Luke, I’m afraid you’re right.” was his reply “We have already gone too far to stop now.”The corners of my mouth immediately curved upwards in excitement. This would be my moment to change my history for the better, my only chance to reclaim what was meant to be mine, all I had to do was dig through my past.15 years earlierKate Williams peered into the strange object which sat in the bottom of her father’s curio cabinet. Unlike the typical old keepsakes found in the cabinet, the orb caught Kate’s attention. With its translucent material of brown and gold that seemed to move as she watched it. One might suspect this strange object to be a clock based on what was visible on the inside but Kate knew better, after all, no one knew when or where it had even come from, only that it had been passed down in her family from generation to generation. Neither did it tell time nor did it even have a face, only strange swirls.Suddenly the thud of footsteps approached. Kate froze like a deer in headlights. She knew she wasn’t allowed to be in her father’s office. She could only imagine his fury if he caught her in here once again. The door slid open and of course, all she could manage in her frozen state was to widen her eyes in anticipation.“Kate! What are you doing?!” Kate’s jaw loosened, embarrassment replacing any leftover fear.“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”“W-well um…” she stood up feeling awkward “I-I uh thought you were my dad.” At this point she was nervously picking at a rubber band on her wrist.“Do I look that much like him?” For a second Kate saw a twinge of hurt flash over his face then he smiled with an idea. He lifted his chin up high, then he gave a sneer that was scarily close to her Dad’s which was odd on a face that held so much laughter. She watched as he made his voice as deep as he could muster.“Kate, you are such a disappointment! Breathing! UGH, disgusting! I was never such an insolent child at your age!”Kate covered her mouth with her hand, trying her best not to laugh, the side of her mouth twitching in disobedience. He saw and gave a proud smile followed by a bow.“Thank you, I’ll be here all night ladies and gentlemen!”Her hand left her mouth and a full-on smile burst out, he smiled in like. Then she remembered her initial fear.“Very funny Luke, but we should get out of here before my luck runs out.”“Fine, fine,” Luke said “But what is it your dad’s so scared of you doing in here anyway?”Kate shrugged “dunno”. He looked at her for a second, head tilted to one side, then he seemed to brush it off.

“Well we should get going anyways, the bus will be here soon and I’m not walking to school.”

Kate looked back towards the object, something wasn’t right, it seemed to swirl faster.

“Kate, you coming?” Luke was at the door, impatience coating his face.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

 

4 years later

 

 

Once again Kate Williams couldn’t help but think about the orb. She’d skipped school. If her father found out, she’d be dead before she could say “sorry” but Kate had to do this. She had to discover what it did… why it was calling to her. She’d always been fascinated by it but, in the last month or so she’d felt a tug towards it like someone was whispering in her ear to take hold of it. Kate walked towards the now glowing sphere in a haze. She felt as if she was watching someone else’s hands grasp the cool sphere. At her touch, it began to hum with power.

Everything in her told her to put it down and never touch it again yet she no longer had control. Her hands lifted it and the room tilted, winds thrashed encapsulating her in her own personal tornado. Her breathing became heavy and uneven. She suddenly felt as if she’d run miles through blazing heat.

The winds became quieter yet twisted faster and faster until her feet lifted slightly off the ground. Then the one thing she least expected happened; she saw faces within the storm. Kate squinted trying to identify each face that flashed through the wind until she realized with a gasp, that her life was literally flashing before her eyes. She watched pictures of her younger self and those of her older self, playing events of the past and seemingly of the future. A thought then sparked in her mind; a question that had blazed in her mind since she was little.

She knew what to do. It was as if it was precoded in her mind. She closed her eyes and focused on the picture of the one person she wished more than anything to see.

The pictures swirled, blurring beyond recognition until they were slowly replaced by images of a different person.

“Mom?” Kate choked out. She could hear the consistent beep sound coming from a heart monitor and the raspy breathing coming from her mother. Kate watched in solemn silence. Why had this picture stopped in front of her? Any other picture would’ve suited her much better. Instead she’d been given one of her mother in her final days.

Kate continued to watch her mom. Then the picture turned its head looking directly at her. Kate stumbled backward, eyes widening.

 

“Kate, is that you?”

At first, Kate was too shocked to speak, but managed to choke out a simple “yes”. She’d always imagined a conversation like this:

“I’m so sorry Kate” or maybe a “You deserve better.”

 

Yet what her mom actually said couldn’t have been any more different:

“You shouldn’t have used the sphere.”

Kate just stared at the picture for a second before finding her voice.

“What! B-but why?!

Her mom’s eyebrows knit together and a steely voice responded

“Our family has sworn to protect and guard that sphere and more than anything never use it unless for dire circumstances.”

Of course, Kate should have known her mom would be like this, yet she’d always hoped she wasn’t. After all, what hope did that give her of being different from her parents?

Kate’s face must’ve been incredibly readable because her mom’s face softened and in a kinder voice she continued, “Kate just promise me you won’t do this again. Our family is meant to protect this. What if the orb tears the world? Would you really risk everything? For everyone? ”

Kate stood silent for a moment too long. “No,” Kate looked towards the ground as anger and disappointment surged through her.

“Kate,” her mom said, and reluctantly she looked up, and something unexpected came,

“I’m sorry but you have to protect the sphere.I love you.”

And with that, everything became quiet. The orb rolled from her hands down to the floor. Tears dripped down Kate’s face and she started to sob, the built-up anger, disappointment, and loss all tearing through her.

 

 

5 years later

 

 

Luke felt his cheeks spread to their widest capacity. He couldn’t help but be excited. He hadn’t seen Kate in four years; since they graduated.

Weirdly enough Kate’s dad was the one who had bought him the plane ticket. When Luke asked why he just said she’d want him there for her birthday. For whatever reason, that was the best thing he’d ever heard.

A memory flashed through his brain, from around the end of junior year, Kate had skipped school. She’d said she’d just been sick but he knew better, after that one day she had become entirely different: more serious. He’d pestered her non-stop for about a month until one day she just broke.

“Luke! Just leave it alone okay?! Even if something did happen I wouldn’t have told you anyway” and then she broke down crying.

He might as well have taped “world’s biggest jerk” to his forehead for making his best friend cry like that. He’d felt terrible. Then he registered the piece about not trusting him and all hell broke loose.

After that they didn’t speak for months, that’s probably when he realized she was more than a friend to him, but he didn’t dare say anything. Not until graduation when they were going to seperate colleges, he felt had no other choice. Of course she hadn’t felt the same way.

Before he knew it he was walking up to her apartment. He was never one to feel anxiety but, at that moment it felt like an overweight elephant was sitting on his chest. He was tempted to return to his car, drive far away, and devise a lame excuse.

He took a shaky breath and lifted his hand towards the doorbell and took a shaky breath. Before he was able to press the button, the door opened. And there he was face to face with Kate herself.

“Hi,” spouted from his mouth and Kate glared at him in return.

“What are you doing here?” she growled

“Happy to see you too!”

She closed the door behind her, grabbed his arm and dragged him back towards his car “Soo, I flew all the way here for your birthday, and you’re going to kick me out?”

“Yes,” she said

“Wow, ok.”

“Really you’re going to give up just like that?”

“Yup. Do you think I came all the way here just for you? I do have other friends still living here, you know.” She didn’t say anything, instead she just looked away.

“You know the world really does not revolve around you.”

She turned around and as a single tear dripped down her face she whispered an “I’m sorry”.

All of his anger melted away.

“Wow,” he thought, “I am way too easily manipulated.”

“Look, Kate, I didn’t mean to upset you here by coming.”

She angrily pushed the tear off her face

“It’s okay, maybe if you came another time?”

“Kate? Who or what is making you cry? That’s my job.”

“It’s none of your business.” It was definitely a guy.

“Yeah, okay,” he said with every bit of sarcasm, then he turned back towards the house and stormed in. He hadn’t been here in four years and there was no way he’d leave yet. No one should make Kate cry, especially not on her birthday.

“Luke don’t be stupid!” he heard her shout at him, but, it was already too late- stupid mode had been flipped on.

He opened the door and let himself in, the first person he saw was her dad.

“Hi sir, someone is bringing Kate to tears. Any chance you know who it is?” Her dad smiled, which I couldn’t help but think was an odd response.

“Well if I had one guess it’d be her boyfriend: Daniel”.

He had said Daniel with a growl, and Luke couldn’t help but, wonder if he’d bought the plane ticket for Luke so he could get rid of him. He pointed towards Daniel and Luke immediately wondered why Kate would be with such a loser. The guy was muscular but, he had a dumb, cocky look about him which meant no good automatically. Luke walked towards him knowing just how to handle this type.

“Hey! Dani!” Luke called

“Do I uh do I know you?” was the guy’s response.

“What! Come on, Dani, you remember me!”

“Oh uh-yeah sorry man, of course, I-uh remember you.” He was an awful liar.

“Good, good! Well between two friends I just saw your girlfriend outside cryin’ any idea why?”

“Psh, hell if I know.” I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah ok well she saw me talking to this chick and freaked out about it.”

That didn’t sound like Kate at all.

“Wow, are you sure you were just talking to her?” Daniel’s eyes narrowed

“So, what if I wasn’t”

At that point, Luke had had enough, he pushed the loser against the wall with every bit of force, and the guy’s eyes bulged. Luke spoke quietly

“Well Daniel, you hurt Kate, you mess with me and you don’t want to be messing with me. Now you have something good going on being with someone like Kate who obviously loves you enough to be crying over you, so I suggest you be nice to her. You hear me?”

At that moment Luke was grateful for every workout he’d ever done, now it was finally worth it to be able to pin this guy against a wall.

“Yeah, yeah ok.”

With that Luke set him down and brushed off Daniel’s shoulders.

“Now you be a good boy and go apologize.”

 

Luke grabbed his car keys from his pocket knowing his job was done. He then turned around to a glaring Kate. Wow this felt like deja vu.

“Hey, Kate look-” Kate grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down to a kiss.

 

 

2 years later

 

Everything was perfect. Luke had finally proposed to Kate and she’d said yes. They were both overjoyed with excitement. Of course, even the happiest moments can be utterly destroyed. Luke should have seen it coming. They had just talked the night before and he was planning to stop by and see her the next morning except she wouldn’t return any calls. That was unusual but he just brushed it off which was probably the dumbest mistake he’d ever made. Maybe he could have stopped it right then and there had he gotten to her earlier.

The news was delivered by a phone call by a man with a severe yet gentle voice. Luke drove to the hospital as fast as he could but, by then it was already too late.

Luke never cried, but seeing her crumpled body brought endless sobbing. He’d asked the man what happened and he replied with an all too simple

“She jumped.”

Luke couldn’t believe that. Kate was always happy. Why didn’t she just talk to him? This had to be his fault, maybe he’d missed the signs. And why was she holding that strange orb?

 

 

 

Present time

 

 

Luke was once again grateful for the old man. After all, he never would’ve discovered what Kate’s orb did without the man’s help. Yet as the old man had already stated, they were running out of time. Apparently, the orb could only go back in time so far. He would know. Luke would always refer to him as the old man yet he knew he was truly Luke’s older self unable to reach that point in time they both wanted. He hadn’t known they were the same person until Luke finally confronted him for answers. It all made sense though. Why else would he want exactly what he wanted?

Luke held the key to his past and future. Old-luke had explained what would happen when he used it so he wasn’t at all surprised as tornado-like winds wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and focused on the face that had tormented him for four years. The winds changed and pictures of her face began to swirl within them.

“Kate,” he whispered and with that they slowed to a picture of her standing on top of a building. A knot hit his throat and he swallowed it down.

“Kate, why?” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

She looked towards him, her eyes filled with pity, he must’ve looked awful.

“Our son, Luke.” I didn’t understand.

“He would’ve torn the world in two.” she paused tears brimming in her eyes.

“Luke, if you’d seen what I’ve seen you’d understand.”

“Kate, this is crazy! Don’t kill yourself. Why don’t you just destroy the orb?”

“That’s my plan Luke.”

Then it dawned on him, she’d been holding it in her hands the day of her death; she’d tried to destroy it.

“No, no Kate, it doesn’t work.” his voice cracked “I was there.”

She shook her head in disappointment. “Then there’s no destroying it.”

“What if we hide it and just never speak of it, it’ll just be our secret.”

Kate looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Or we can figure something else out.” Luke said hesitantly.

Kate simply pointed behind him, her eyes wide. Luke whipped around; it was just the old man. Except something wasn’t right, he looked violent, his eyes filled with greed.

“Luke,” Kate whispered “It’s him.” It’s him, Luke’s head spun.

“Finally, I have it again.” Said the raspy voice of Luke’s betrayer the winds swirled, and at that moment Luke realized the old man would never have been born making Kate never commit suicide and Luke never go on his weird downwards spiral. The winds swirled around Luke and except for the faint memory of his past four years and the decision to adopt a daughter all was as it should’ve been. The orb simply sat in a curio cabinet of Luke’s office.

Best Ham Sandwiches

These Best Ham Sandwiches are great served hot or at room temperature.

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5b8f0e272772b2796d87ab51a45cc485

Ingredients

  • 2 (12 count) packages sweet Hawaiian rolls
  • 1 1/2 pounds Virginia ham (NOT honey ham)
  • 12 slices Swiss cheese
  • 1 stick real butter
  • 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1 teaspoon poppy seeds

Instructions

  1. Place the bottoms of 12 rolls in each of two 9 x 13 inch pans.
  2. Place ham (about 2 shaved slices or so) on the rolls.
  3. Cut the cheese slices into 4 parts and place 2 small pieces on each sandwich.
  4. Put the dinner roll tops on.
  5. In a saucepan, mix butter, Worcestershire sauce, onion powder, garlic powder and poppy seeds.
  6. When all butter is melted, brush the melted mixture over the ham sandwiches.
  7. Cover with foil and let sit in the refrigerator for 1 hour or overnight.
  8. Heat oven to 375 degrees F and bake for 15 minutes or until cheese is melted.
  9. Serve.

Sex. Men like sex.

It’s a biological fact that a women’s libido begins to lesson as they age. Some manage to push through it while others just put sex on the back burner and act like just having sex once or twice a month should be good enough for a married man.

At first, it is accepted by the man for the greater good, but over time the idea of sex eventually becomes almost a burden for the woman in the relationship. The man starts getting upset and then the woman starts having sympathy sex just shut the man up. He even tries to be extra sweet for his wife in hopes that this will trigger some kind of sexual response. It doesn’t and the frustration begins to set in. The fire slowly dwindles and the sex life that they once shared is nothing but an empty shell of its former self.

I love my wife more than anything. She is supportive, sweet, compassionate and very cute. In every other area of our marriage, we mesh quite well. However, she just doesn’t care that much for sex anymore. We’ve had long discussions about it but we always end up back in the same place. She has also become very dull and boring sexually, and completely uninterested in trying new things. I will never understand how someone can go from seemingly loving to give oral sex often to being almost disgusted by it. It’s the same penis down there. Surprise, men like getting blowjobs. She doesn’t even want to receive oral even though I love giving it. Imagine that, a wife turning down oral. Crazy, right?

I take care of myself, I have good hygiene, and if you ask her, she will tell you how handsome and sweet I am and how well I treat her, and I really do treat her well.

None of this matters when it comes to our almost nonexistent sex life. I’m 37 years old and I’m lucky to get it more than once or twice a month. She was even too tired to have sex on our last anniversary and promised to make it up to me. It took a week and a half to make it up to me. I am a patient man but even I have my limits.

The last thing I want is to divorce my wife. In every other area of our marriage, she really is gied men cheat.

The rapid rate of evolution

The Average Design Improvement to Commercial Introduction for US Aircraft is around 6-8 years

This means if someone decides to modify the F-35 Or F-15 for better maneuverability , it takes an average of 6 years to get it to proper commercial production and a further 2 years into a Squadron

For China this is 2 1/2 — 3 1/2 years tops!!!!

That’s the secret for their rapidly closing technology gap in many areas of defense

This means if someone proposes design modifications for a J-15 that overcomes a specific weakness, it can be commercially manufactured into a squadron within 30–42 months!!!!!

That was what caught my attention


My son went to the Air Show

He was more impressed with the WHITE EMPEROR metal mock up design whose prototype was to be delivered to PLAAF by 1/1/2026

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main qimg df5358db016924df21bd42992a06b553

He also liked the J-20s and SU-57 which was the big thing everyone came to watch

However I liked the J-15 D

The rate of evolution was FANTASTIC

It was a prototype in 2022 May and now you have 24 ready and another 24 to be delivered by 2025

That’s 3 Squadrons

By now my bet is the next design improvement has already been approved and the next three squadrons of J-15E will be delivered by 2027/28

Like I keep saying – I am not impressed with Individual aircraft

Aircraft costing $ 180 Million plus $ 5 1/2 Million to train a Pilot which can be blown down by a $ 600,000 missile is not my idea of efficiency

I like Aircraft Production and Evolution and Stable Economics

So I like the rapidity of evolution of Chinese Aircraft

In 2000 – The Gap was maybe 100:15

Now it’s 100:90

In a mere 24 years

It will reach parity by 2027

(Again I am being conservative. USAF General Withers says Parity is already reached)

This. The HQ-19 ballistic missile defense system.

The chinese version of American THAAD ER has been operational for some time, but only made its debut at zhuhai 2024.

The interceptors used are bigger than THAAD, and can reportedly counter hypersonic glide vehicles that deviate from ballistic profiles.

Networked with other sensors and air defense systems, it is probably a match for the russian s-500, with China having the edge in sensor coverage.

This fills the biggest missing piece in Chinese air defense coverage.

At the beginning of the year, there were 3 big missing pieces for the Chinese military to go head-to-head with the Americans.

At the end of 2024, I can say there is only one system left: the next gen type 096 ballistic missile nuclear submarine.

The type 095 next gen nuclear attack sub is either in testing or already operational.

4B Movement FAILED And This New Feminist Trend Is WORSE

The AI was interfacing with me

I recently fell sick while I was visiting the USA. I was taken to the Emergency Room of the local hospital where I had various tests and x-rays, and was eventually diagnosed with pneumonia, requiring two drip-feed antibiotics. I was admitted to a two-bed ward that I shared with a patient, obviously demented, who shouted and screamed all night, threw things and broke things, and was completely ignored by the staff. My nurse-call button was broken, so I could get no attention, until a nurse finally turned up in the morning to take vital signs.

At this point, I was told that my blood tests showed I was suffering from septicaemia which would require a third antibiotic, starting immediately. Shortly afterwards, I received a visit from the Chief of Infectious Diseases who informed me that I was not suffering from septicaemia and that he was discontinuing that treatment immediately. He said that the staff that took the blood tests were so poorly trained that the samples were frequently contaminated, and he described the results as “rubbish”. Furthermore, he strongly advised that I discontinue the drip antibiotics and that he prescribe antibiotic tablets that I could take at home. When pressed, he advised that I was much more likely to recover at home than I would in the hospital.

I asked that my daughter be informed and alerted to come and pick me up, and I was told this would be done. I was also told that all the final steps would be taken in the Discharge Unit where my daughter could collect me. When I was moved to the Discharge Unit, I discovered that nobody had telephoned my daughter and that I had to do this myself. Furthermore, the staff knew nothing about my treatment and only wanted me to finish off my paperwork and leave. Consequently, I left the hospital with a cannula still in my right arm and with ecg patches still fastened all over my body: I preferred to do this, rather than risk the further attentions of the medical staff in whom I had no confidence at all.

For my one-night stay, I was given a bill for US$21,000 which I have not paid and which I intend to contest. This is not my first encounter with the US “health” service, and my two other experiences were equally distressing, incompetent and expensive. It is astonishing that Americans are so ignorant of the miserable quality of medical care they receive and for which they pay astronomical amounts of money. I have now had experience in three different states and strongly recommend that, if anybody gets sick in the USA, he/she struggle onto a ‘plane and head for a country where doctors and hospitals know what they’re doing.

Greek Stuffed Peppers and Tomatoes

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32844186a679ec1a5723c4d4300bf070

Ingredients

  • 1/2 pound ground beef
  • 1/2 pound ground veal
  • 5 green bell peppers
  • 5 round tomatoes
  • 1 red onion, chopped
  • 1 clove garlic, chopped
  • 1 cup basmati rice
  • 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • Basil
  • Parsley
  • Mint leaves
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 egg
  • Water
  • Mizigra (Greek cheese) grated, or parmesan, grated

Instructions

  1. Simmer and brown the onion and garlic in the extra virgin olive oil. Add meat for 45 seconds or a minute – cook just until barely pink. Pour in basmati rice, then stir for one or two minutes.
  2. Add salt and pepper; continue stirring. Remove from heat, then put into mixing bowl. Add chopped basil, chopped parsley and chopped mint. Add a handful of the grated cheese to mixture. Mix, then add egg, mix it in well with hands.
  3. Cut off tops of tomatoes to make lids. Scoop out interior of peppers and tomatoes, throwing out insides of peppers. Take the insides of the tomatoes (tomato meat), chop it up, then add to bowl of mixture.
  4. Stuff the peppers and tomatoes three quarters of the way. Place peppers and tomatoes in oven-proof casserole. Pour 1/2 inch of water in the bottom of a casserole.
  5. Heat oven 400 degrees F.
  6. Pour some more oil over the lids on top of peppers, then add a little more salt and pepper. Cover with aluminum foil, and bake for 30 minutes at 285 degrees F (remove foil the last five minutes).

Malaysian PM embarrasses Blinken with Russia revelation, refuses to surrender | Janta Ka Reporter

My father was born in 1922 and said he had done enough exercise by the time he was 24.

He was a normal kid, running around, competing in school sports, but not training for them. He was a sprinter and did okay, but no long runs for him.

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main qimg 38573f2a1a6ee453f6ff67f84a425093

At a school camp aged 15

He was drafted when he turned 18 and spent the next five years in the army. He did the usual army stuff, marching, digging holes, and then filling them in.

He served overseas for two years and, after a stint in Italy, went to Japan in the occupation force, where he caught tuberculosis. On his return to New Zealand, he spent 10 months in a sanatorium and had a lung collapsed for two years to assist with recovery.

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main qimg b571a2d6422b516b8033bc97f3d616a6

Helping my grandfather build his house aged 25


After that, he vowed not to exercise.

He had done his bit, and it was all over by the time he was 24.

He had health issues due to the TB, and the family moved to the dry climate of Australia. When he retired aged 69, my parents moved back to New Zealand.

He did a bit of walking, but it was incidental in getting the groceries from a supermarket that was 400 m away.

So, he did very little exercise for his last 74 years. Never ran, swam, or lifted weights.

Despite that, he was mostly healthy until his final three weeks, when pneumonia set in at age 98.

He survived his entire cohort. All the more accomplished athletes, his friends, his wife, and a whole bunch of people who were a generation younger.

Here is my guess at what kept his heart ticking on.

  • He never smoked, in an era where everyone did. That had to be a big part.
  • He kept his weight in check. He wasn’t skinny, but he was never in the overweight category.
  • He radiated relentless positivity. I never saw him angry. He just excused people for “having a bad day”. People liked him.
  • He drank a solitary glass of wine about once a month. He vacuum-sealed the bottle if he couldn’t give it away to his dinner companions.
  • He spoke to people somewhere every day. Not for long, unless it was one of his buddies.
  • He kept out of the sun, which is important in New Zealand and Australia, where the ozone hole and pure skies allow considerably more UV light.
  • He usually ate a healthy Mediterranean diet that he prepared himself. We kids always joked that he ate much better than we did.
  • He ate two chunks of chocolate every day. Complete discipline. A bar would last him more than a week. He would eat one biscuit when with company, to be polite.
  • He always had projects, all sedentary, such as writing and reading.
  • Most importantly, he was super lucky.

So, his exercise was limited and was just living life. He tended to walk for 15 minutes rather than drive, and it helped that he lived close to the centre of town so his legs could do the work.

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main qimg cf92cf32376e29805441c3ad77b246c0

Aged 83 with my mother

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main qimg e7119e437a2774fabe570b8f8ceb2aee

Aged 98, walking outside was enough exercise for the day

I read a lot written by people in their 40s or younger telling people that attendance at a gym is imperative. Protein levels need to be kept high. Supplements. And a whole bunch of other advice.

On the other hand, I see what worked for my father.

Two rules.

Moderation. A positive attitude.

Doesn’t seem hard.

Zhuhai Airshow 2024 is Spectacular: China’s Stealth Fighters & Hypersonic Weapons

I am always amazed when I think how much China has developed its military capabilities in such a short time.

Oh my yes.

If by tyranny you mean a cruel and oppressive government.

1912–1920. Woodrow Wilson. The closest America has ever come to a tyrant.

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main qimg dcb118985aeb8a7b528501d4c74e30ff

He made America a progressive offer they couldn’t refuse.

The man was a racist unlike any other who has ever served in the White House. People in his life time thought he was racist. He thought race mixing was regressive. He re-segregated the government. He had Klan members to dinner in the White House. They watched Birth of a Nation. Progressivism in the 1920s was all about identifying race and keeping them apart (and you though DEI was a new thing didn’t you?).

But that wasn’t the worst. He introduced eugenics and forced the sterilization of thousands of homosexuals, mental invalides, and blacks. Lots and lots of blacks. Because he wanted to make a more perfect human, and that didn’t include dark skin.

He saw the Constitution as something to be gotten around. He declared the declaration of independence to be “of no great import.” He wasn’t just a constitutional activist. There have been plenty of those. He called it outmoded. When the Constitution got in the way of his progressive, he tried to move it aside. “The President is at liberty,” he once declared, “both in law and in conscience, to be as big a man as he can. His capacity will set the limit.” Or my favourite:

No doubt a lot of nonsense has been talked about the inalienable rights of the individual, and a great deal that was mere sentiment and pleasing speculation has been put forward as fundamental principle.

He tried to redefine sedition and free speech to just be anything he didn’t like. He arrested WWI draft protesters long after November 1918 (this is where the famous “fire in a theatre isn’t free speech” line comes from). Their crime was protesting a draft for what they saw as a pointless European war (heads up, it was). But it was worse than that. Seventeen men who refused service in Europe were sentenced to death, and thousands were sentenced to a life of hard labour. Luckily Warren Harding pardoned them all. But any Jan 6th rioter, BLM rioter, or Hamas hippie should take note on what other presidents have done to people like them.

He established the Committee on Public Information, which was supposed to be a BBC style news service. However, he used it to push fake news on the masses, including lying about U.S victories in Europe and manufacturing German atrocities (in case you thought fake news was a new thing). Worse, newspapermen who tried to publish stories that went against CPI propaganda were censored by the CPI.

The Spanish Influenza. You had a hissy fit about masks in 2020? Paying fines and not being allowed in Starbucks without one? In 1920 people without masks were thrown in jail. In a cell with other non-mask wearers. All coughing on each other. If you think the government engaged in pandemic overreach in 2020, go look at what Wilson did in 1920.

He oversaw and supported the 18th amendment. Prohibition was another progressive brain child. In case you thought ‘the war on drugs’ was new, our boy Wilson was waging it 100 years ago. This one isn’t 100% on him, but he supported it (while keeping a bottle of whisky in the Oval Office).

So instituted eugenics, waged a war on drugs, sent protesters to hard labour, revitalized the KKK, created the only American propaganda office to date, and felt the constitution was something to be worked around.

I’d say that is worse.

Oh, and sumbitch introduced daylight savings.

EDIT – my favourite part of this answer has been the comments pointing out all the other terrible things he did. Thank you for them.

China’s Large Unmanned Combat Vessel Makes Global Debut at Airshow

The new face in Naval warfare.

All-out war?

The Taiwanese military cannot even keep up with the tempo of regular pla activity around the island, leading to crashes and breakdowns.

Taiwan has done nothing to push back the redrawing of traditional boundaries respected for decades. Every passing year is witness to gradual encroachment of the area of responsibility of the Taiwanese air force and coast guard.

Not only that, the Taiwan military stood down each time the pla announced massive exercises and drew exclusion zones around Taiwan. There is no sense of threat among the public, without siren drills or call-ups.

Recently, a Taiwan pilot that ejected from his fighter jet at sea was subjected to a horrifying SAR episode, which required five attempts by five separate vessels to convey him to hospital, during which he endured the ignominy of being dumped back into the sea, and a potentially fatal delay of several hours due to malfunctions and miscalculation while professionals made it up as they went along.

All-out war?

They are certainly not training for war, let alone operating with competence in peace time.

Every Father’s Dream

Submitted into Contest #154 in response to: Write a story featuring an element of time-travel or anachronism. view prompt

Hilary R. Glick

“Remember,” she whispers into my neck, tightening the clasp on my gravity vest, “We only get one shot at this.”“I know.”“And don’t forget to keep an eye on your watch.” She straps the bulky device to my left wrist and flicks the dial until a neon green date and time hover above my arm.Date: 22nd of May 2056Time: 23:55“I know you don’t want to blink or look away for long, but if you aren’t diligently looking at your watch, you might miss your mark. I set the timer to go off in your prime window, but remember, no matter what happens, you only get one shot, so you have to choose it wisely.”She sounds so confident, so strong.“I know, honey. We’ve been through this a hundred times. Everything will be fine…”“Maybe, but it was all theoretical before. The counselors warned us that no amount of guess work can prepare you for the real thing. This is happening in five – ” The neon clock ticks to 23:56. “- four minutes.”She kisses me.“And when Alexis is old enough, I will explain it all to her too. She will understand. She will have time to understand. And I will teach her what to do. If anything happens to me, she will know what to do.”I grasp her hands in mine. Her courage is beginning to falter.“Everything will be okay.”“Promise me you won’t take off that vest until it’s time. We have eighteen years to pass through. Your watch is set for May 2074. You cannot miss your window. Promise me, Fred. I need you to say it.”“I promise.”“No matter what happens! You get one shot, just one shot at this.” She falls into my arms and sobs, finally revealing the apprehension she has hidden for so many months.“It will all be okay, honey. I know my window, and if for any reason something happens and you need me sooner, just signal me on the board.”Simultaneously, we look to the whiteboard at the front of the room where “Be strong! We love you!” is written in large lettering.

I look back to Molly and kiss her forehead, taking my time, hoping to grasp on to what little of it we have left before it all flashes before my eyes.

She pulls away, grasping on to what little control she has for the next three minutes, but I clench her tighter. I know what kind of pressure this puts on her, and I won’t waste a single second of our final minutes together.

My wife has lived through every possible scenario of the future one hundred times over. She has anticipated and prepared for every conceivable situation, living and reliving nightmares all so that I may bear witness to the life of our baby girl and someday reunite with my family for one final, beautiful day together.

Date: 22nd of May 2056

Time: 23:58

Molly looks up at me now, tears illuminating the freckles under her eyes. “Remember me like this, Freddy. Remember me young and thin and full of life.”

“I will love you as you are today, tomorrow, and in eighteen years, no matter how time may affect us.”

She walks to Alexis, who hollers from her crib.

“Come now, my sweet.” I reach my arms out, cradling our baby girl one last time before she is grown. “No need to cry. Daddy will still be here for you, always.”

A sound chimes on my wrist and Molly releases Alexis from my arms, and steps a safe distance back, just like we practiced.

I enter the acrylic chamber in the center of what used to be our living room and take a seat on my favorite lounger chair.

The watch chimes again, now paired with a blinking red button on the center of my vest.

Date: 23rd of May 2056

Time: 00:00

I place my hand on the button, lingering in the final image of my wife and daughter on the other side of the room.

As tears pour down each of their beautiful faces, I clench my eyes shut, fighting back my own emotions, and push the button.

 

The vest instantly tightens all around me. Hugging my chest and spine so firmly, I forget how to breathe.

I lift my chin, grasping for breath. 

Every muscle in my body aches, pulling me so deeply into the chair, I fear I will burst through the floor. 

But I don’t.

I catch my breath, gasping as if I’ve broken through the water’s surface after a long swim.

My heart rate slows, and my breaths become even. 

I’ve practiced this with gravitational counselors. We have run through the simulations, and I know the techniques. First, focus on regulating your breath.

In – Two – Three – Four. Out – Two – Three – Four. 

Breathing comes strained, but steady. I feel as though there is a fifty-pound weight on my chest, but my lungs somehow continue to fill with air, and release. 

Second, reacclimate to your surroundings.

Gripping the arms of my chair, head placed firmly against its back, I open one heavy eyelid after the other.

In practice simulations, the virtual reality races before your eyes at an alarming rate. It was supposed to prepare me for what time would look like outside of the chamber. I got sick the first time – too many figures swirling around, furniture changing, everything but the floor and walls spinning on an endless stream of life continuing at 120 minutes per my one second. 

In preparation for my deceleration, Molly learned techniques that would help with my motion sickness and acclimation. Small things like moving through the room with intent, staying put for two to three hours at a time so I can see her, updating the whiteboard only once every seventy-two hours her time, leaving furniture in the same place, keeping the blinds closed and the light turned on at all times, anything she can do to slow time down on her side of the acrylic walls.

Opening my eyes, I see she has taken the techniques to heart. While adjusting my breathing and opening my eyes has only taken thirty-six seconds my time, three days have already passed for Molly and Alexis. 

Her movements aren’t the same as they prepared me for with virtual simulations. She does not travel through the room in a flurry of never-ending movements, but rather in snapshot one second visions. 

With my head still leaned against the back of the chair, I follow her around the room with my eyes. 

 

For three seconds, she lays in our bed on the other side of the living room.

 

I blink-

 

She is perched on the couch with Alexis on her lap.

Then just as quickly, she disappears.

 

Four seconds later-

 

She is back, kneeling on the floor with Alexis.

Then seated on the couch with a book.

Then back on the floor, and resting in bed for-

 

Three seconds my time-

 

Until the snapshot process repeats again.

 

In twelve seconds my time, an entire day has passed for Molly and Alexis.

I watch for another 24 seconds, understanding their routine, and trusting my acclimation process enough to move on to step three. 

I slowly lift my right arm, testing the strength it takes for even the smallest of movements. 

But I fail.

Instead, I lift one finger, which Molly seems to have noticed.

 

“Great job, babe! Slow and steady wins the race!” she has written on the whiteboard across from me.

 

With her encouragement, I manage three more attempts at lifting my arm, and on the last try, I successfully hold it half an inch above the chair for two seconds my time.

 

Alexis drinks a bottle on the bed.

Molly sips coffee on the couch.

“Going to my parents’ for two days but keep up the good work, babe! We love you!” The whiteboard reads now.

 

With the girls gone for two days, I know I have at least twenty-four seconds my time to work on my left arm’s strength before they return. Once I lift my left arm for longer than one second, I work on task number three – time check.

I flip my left wrist a quarter turn towards myself, and slowly lower my chin to check the neon green time floating above my arm.

 

Date: 8th of June 2056

Time: 01:00

Time: 03:00

Time: 05:00

 

The time, set for odd hours, moves with the outside world and ticks away two hours every second I stare at it. 

June eighth, okay, so only sixteen days have passed for them. I’m making good time. 

For the next five minutes my time, I continue to work my muscles, adapting to the heavy pull of the gravity vest.

As the next eighteen years will pass around me in roughly twenty-two hours my time, I must be able to move enough to stay comfortable and keep my muscles from atrophying.

I keep my neck relaxed against the chair, still following Molly and Alexis with my eyes when I can, tensing and lifting my limbs one at a time. 

 

“We miss you already, Freddy!” The whiteboard reads.

Alexis drinks from her sippy cup on the floor while Molly watches something on her tablet.

“We are so proud of you!” A new update on the board.

 

One second –

 

Molly reads on the couch while Alexis plays on the floor.

 

The next second-

 

Alexis cries in her crib.

“You got this!” another update.

Alexis stands on Molly’s shoes.

“Alexis took her first steps by herself today!”

 

I quickly look to my watch to capture the moment of Alexis’s first milestone before the board changes again.

 

Date: 8th of August 2056

Time: 09:00

 

The counselors warned me upon first agreeing to the deceleration procedure that although this would technically extend my life for eighteen years, allowing me to watch my daughter grow up, there would still be many milestones lost in the time gaps.

I blink-

 

And they are halfway out the front door.

 

One – two – three – four seconds my time they’ve been gone.

My eyes feel dry.

 

“Remember to blink!” The whiteboard reminds me.

 

My neck is sore.

 

“Don’t forget your exercises! I can tell you aren’t doing them!”

 

I lift my arm.

 

“And don’t forget to keep an eye on the clock!”

Date: 14th of December 2056

Time: 11:00

 

Time itself cannot stop her from nagging me.

I smile.

 

“It’s nice to see you smiling today.”

 

We knew the deceleration process would be successful for a five-year span, as that’s the standard practice for most providers.

In a typical deceleration, the ratio is roughly thirty minutes outside to every one second inside the acrylic chamber.

For over a decade, that was the only option, until a group of rouge scientists discovered a way to increase the minutes per second using a stronger gravitational pull, which would, in theory, give a longer span of years in quicker flashes of time. 

 

Alexis stands on the floor, about to walk.

Molly sits on the couch with a cup of tea.

Date: 13th of October 2056

Time: 15:00

They both sleep in the bed for –

 

One – two – three seconds my time. 

 

They are gone for –

 

One – two – three – four seconds. 

The risk wasn’t great, knowing it was a simple adjustment to the gravity vest. The true challenge was finding a subject willing to watch as fifteen plus years passed before their eyes. 

 

Alexis plays with a toy.

Molly has friends over.

“Jan says hi!”

 

When my medical advisor suggested this study, Molly was hesitant. She’d rather have four good months with than spend three months preparing for a lifetime of waiting for me. 

But knowing the technology was available and ready for me to watch my baby girl become an adult was too tempting to resist, and the compensation was hard to pass up.

 

“Alexis said ‘mama’ today. Now we are working on ‘dada’!”

Alexis cries with a band aid on her knee.

Molly and her mom sip coffee on the couch.

“I got a promotion at work!”

 

For only twenty-two hours of my life, and eighteen years of theirs, the scientific team promised to cover all costs of daily living, life insurance, and medical expenses for my family for up to fifty years. Which in today’s economy equates to roughly two million dollars per year and rising.

 

“We are getting a puppy!”

Date: 1st of September 2058

Time: 13:00

Alexis walks with the puppy in her arm.

The puppy pees on the floor.

 

To grow up without a father is one thing, an absent father is another. I hope to live somewhere in the grey area for Alexis. A father she sees every day, who is steady and loves her more than she could possibly comprehend. A father who is there for all her milestones, watching as she grows into a successful young woman. 

 

The puppy is now a dog, shaggy and dripping on the carpet.

“Alexis lost a tooth!”

Alexis falls off the back of the couch.

“And another!”

 

And on that day, eighteen years from now – wait – 

I confidently lift my watch to my face, my limbs almost entirely adapted to the gravity vest now.

 

Date: 25th of December 2060

Time: 09:00

 

– fourteen years from now, when her father finally steps out of his acrylic coffin and they sit together in real time discussing the past eighteen years, she will know the sacrifices he made for her. A father who still provides for her and her mother long after he is gone. Afterall, isn’t that every father’s dream?

 

“We all miss you very much. Happy New Year! 2062!”

One year passes after another.

 

I check my watch each time we hit another milestone, hoping to remember the exact date and time of each update.

 

Date: 22nd of February 2062

Time: 07:00

“Alexis starts kindergarten today!”

Date: 1st of July 2063

Time: 15:00

“Mom passed away this afternoon… Wish you were here…”

 

“I am here,” I want to scream, but I know my voice will travel too slow for them to understand, so I cry for the loss of my mother-in-law and again when Alexis writes her first message on the board –  

 

“Happy b-day daddy!”

 

I celebrate successes and mourn losses in my own time. A schizophrenic wave of emotions – tears of joy and pain only minutes apart.

I fight the urge to rip off my vest, to stop time and join my family once again. But Molly has not signaled for help or asked me to stop, so I push on.

 

Another year passes.

Then another.

“Alexis joined a baseball team!”

Date: 1st of July 2068

Time: 11:00

“Alexis hit a home run!”

 

The more hours that tick away on my wrist, the faster they seem to progress outside.

 

Suddenly Alexis is a young woman.

She brings over friends.

 

When did the bed move?

Is that a new dog?

I hold my eyes open as long as I can without blinking for fear of missing them. 

 

Molly’s wrinkles are defining and her waistline is filling.

The updates come less often now.

Molly leaves for longer periods of time, sometimes never coming back at the end of her day.

 

Or maybe I blink too long and miss it.

 

“Dad’s in hospice. Will be gone for a bit.”

Date: 7th of August 2071

Time: 19:00

Molly is back.

She is gone.

Date: 21st of September 2071

Time: 11:00

No updates on the board. Only quick glimpses of my girls as they come and go.

 

I feel stronger with every minute that passes.

 

“I’m so sorry we haven’t updated you in a while. Will update soon.”

 

I stand and sit back down, but no one is home to witness.

 

“Dad’s funeral is today. Wish you were here…”

 

My eyelids grow heavy, working harder against gravity than they ever have. With almost twenty hours my time without sleep, I feel how dry and tired they have become.

I rest my eyes for just a moment…

A sound alarms from my wrist.

 

Date: 1st of May 2074

Time: 01:00

 

Shit!

I fumble in my chair, easing myself into my rehearsed acceleration position.

 

Molly appears in front of the box.

Alexis appears.

 

I straighten my spine and raise my hand to the red button on my chest.

 

“Hurry!” The whiteboard reminds me.

 

I brace myself for acceleration and push hard against the button.

Nothing happens.

 

Molly disappears.

Alexis slumps on the couch.

Molly returns.

 

I push the button again.

And again.

Still nothing.

 

A team of scientists appear.

“Fred, remain calm. You need to manually eject yourself from the vest.”

 

How? I don’t know how to do that.

 

“You need to unclasp the three buckles down the front of your vest.”

 

My fingers fumble over the buckles, working as quickly as I can, but wasting another six hours their time. 

When the buckles are each released, I look back up to the whiteboard.

 

“Great. Now, when you are ready, you need to rip the vest off as quickly as you can.”

The sign changes as I finish reading the message.

“This will accelerate your time all at once, so please do this in one swift motion.”

The note changes again.

“Wait until you are ready. We will be here.”

They stand still.

 

I take a deep breath, lean forward on my chair, and wiggle my arms from the vest. Then, in one, quick swoop, I rip the vest off my back.

 

I fall to the ground in front of me, which is a much softer impact than I anticipated.

When I flip to my side, dry heaving, pulse racing, I feel her hand combing my hair behind my ear, and look up to see the freckles under her eyes, now outlined in wrinkles.

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

Trump Orders Halt to “Every Single Media Contract”

After revelations the US Agency for International Development (USAID) has been funneling millions to media outlets around the world, President Trump has ORDERED the termination of “every single media contract” expensed by the General Services Administration.

The list includes, POLITICO, BBC & Bloomberg . . .  and many others.

USAID was funding over 6,200 journalists across 707 media outlets and 279 “media” NGOs, which includes 90% of the reportage out of Ukraine.

Right At a Friend’s Wedding, I Caught My Wife and Her Lover Having S*x. They Had No Idea …

Sheech! No wonder men no longer want to get married in the West.

My wife and I had separated, and she had gone to live with another man. That relationship failed (as I had predicted), and she moved in with her father.

One day my wife contacted me, saying that she wanted to come back. I had once told myself that I married her for better or for worse and that I wouldn’t leave this marriage like I had my first one. But since she had left me, it was different. I’d been telling my friends all this time that I wouldn’t take her back, saying that she had made her choice.

Nevertheless, when she told me she wanted to come back, I fell into depression, thinking that I would have to return to my old way of life.

It was then that someone had shared something generic on Facebook on ten ways to tell if you are in an abusive relationship. I looked at it out of curiosity.

My wife met nine out of the ten criteria. The only one she didn’t meet was physical abuse, but I’d remembered a time when she had tried to hit me. I stopped her and outweighed her by eighty pounds. She never tried again.

That Facebook post was a light bulb going off in my head. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let her get between my family and me? How could I have allowed myself to put up with so much verbal abuse? How could I have let her so crush my self-esteem over the years? I’d grown up with an abusive brother. Maybe that was part of the reason why I couldn’t recognize the obvious.

I thanked the woman who had sent out the abuse information, telling her that you never know who you’re going to help from a generic post. I declined my wife’s attempt to get back together without comment, and a year later, I started final divorce proceedings.

The divorce was hard and miserable and cost me a lot. I’m still suffering financially, but I’m at last in a loving, non-abusive marriage. At first, it felt strange not having to walk on eggshells over everything that I said, but I’ve come to understand that this is the way relationships are supposed to work.

Edit: Someone suggested I add a link to the 10 ways article. I am pleased I still had a link.

10 Telling Signs You’re Trapped in an Abusive Relationship – ActiveBeat

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Of course, but it is helping not hurting China! If one underestimate the other it will be not ready to face the real power that China is. Let me give you a hint! China won’t fight your battle they will make you fight their battle which you are totally not ready! How about a million drones! Including 100 thousand under seas drones waiting for US aircraft carriers. God help you guys! Better pretend to be humble!

Bach to the Future

Submitted into Contest #154 in response to: Write a story featuring an element of time-travel or anachronism. view prompt

Jim Firth

Funny Historical Fiction Science Fiction

Moog Music Factory,Asheville, North Carolina,April 6th, 1980Demonstrating prototypes to money grubbing shareholders was never Steve Masakowski’s strong suit–but this product spoke for itself. It was radical. Audacious. Tubular, even.Today, he was introducing the Moog Liberation Keytar.’Pretty soon, pop stars will be wielding the Liberation onstage. It will provide keyboardists the freedom to move and dance while they play like never before.’ Steve said.After tightening the final screws on the keytar’s plastic casing, he stood back from the workbench smugly.‘There she is. Any questions?’Nobody spoke. Jerry, CEO of Moog, had to rescue Steve from drowning in the silence of the reticent shareholders.‘Excellent work, Steve. Care to give us a demo?’

 

The grunt of a shareholder slightly resembled approval.

 

In a moment, Steve’s preprogrammed MIDI rendition of Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier would be filling the room. This particular prelude was was arguably the German master’s best work.

 

This ought to get the stale, male and pale buggers on my side.

 

As Steve pressed the button down, he hoped for nodding and tapping along. But what he got were puzzled expressions and horrified gasps leaving wide open mouths. He looked down and saw an empty workbench. His finger had rendered the Moog Liberation invisible–not the intended effect of the demo at all.

 

One would think the impressiveness of the keyboard’s disappearance would far outweigh any stuttering polyphonic rendition of a Bach classic–but the board members and shareholders were not impressed. Steve was given an ultimatum. He would have to construct another prototype within a week, or face termination of employment from Moog. The problem was that the blueprints for the Liberation had gone missing.

 

*

 

April 6th, 1733, Leipzig

 

Returning to my study this morning after Sunday service, I saw that a keyboard had inexplicably materialised atop my desk. It looked like the bastard child of my lute and harpsichord. How dare they copulate on the holiest of days?

 

The instrument has the same configuration of black and white keys as any keyboard—but its keys are not made of wood. They are smooth and hard, made from an alien material I do not recognise. The keyboard, labelled ‘Moog’, is replete with a great number of buttons and knobs.

 

In utter astonishment, I locked it away in a cupboard–for I do not know its origins. Is it a gift from god, or a trick sent by the devil?

 

April 8th

 

God has given me no indication that ‘Moog’ is His handiwork. Once I had found the courage to investigate the instrument further, I saw that it possessed no aura of malice. Rather, the prevailing feeling was my own bafflement at its workings. Dare I try to make a sound with it?

 

Eventually gathering the will to lay my fingers upon its keys, I heard only silence. It is bound by metal screws which I dare not tamper with for my own safety. What if– encased in its interior—in place of strings and hammers, there are malcontent demons waiting to be unleashed?

 

In an attempt to coax out sound, I cautiously tested all possible combinations of buttons and knobs whilst taking notes. It wasn’t until I found a small, discrete switch on the back of the body, and slid it into the ‘on’ position, that a green circle illuminated and it produced sound.

 

The startling timbre of middle C caused me to gasp. When passing in the hallway, Anna Magdalena knocked on the door to see that all was well. She enquired about the strange sound but I did not know how to explain it. Should I have said it was my lunch repeating on me? A boisterous bird on the windowsill? A rather violent yawn? In the end, she lost interest rather quickly—as she tends to do.

 

For a few hours, I did not dare touch the keys for fear of rousing Anna’s attention again. After consulting my German/English dictionary, I made use of Moog’s volume knob which allowed me play quietly and undisturbed for a while.

 

Its keys are joyously smooth. I felt a freshness, a fluency, a flair in my playing that I have not felt for years–a certain verve and indefinable effortlessness.

 

The excitement left me rather exhausted and I was early to bed—but not before locking my precious ‘Moog’ away safely. No one else knows–and I intend to keep it that way.

 

April 10th

 

Arriving home from organist duty, I was desperate to play Moog. I am enthralled like the first week I met Anna. Except that this secret affair is between a man and his instrument. Ensuring to lock my study door and lower the the volume, I played fervently for hours until supper.

 

The many controls change the timbre and quality of the keyboard’s sound. I giggled with glee as I imitated the towering pipes of the church organ on such a small and compact keyboard. I don’t know how the sounds are recreated so faithfully. It must be God’s work.

 

April 11th

 

I am a leaky faucet. New ideas are pouring forth every day—faster than I can catch them. I need a bucket. The larger the better.

 

To take full advantage of this fillip, I will be heading to my country retreat to write free of distraction. It will be a blessing to have no church duty and no interfering wife. My carriage to Zwenkau arrives tomorrow.

 

April 14th

 

To conceal Moog from the coach boy, I wrapped her in a blanket and hid her inside my clothes case. The coach boy insisted on loading all of my luggage onto the roof rack, but I refused for Moog to go up there. She made the journey by my side.

 

Each passing furlong of the journey strengthened the notion that this keyboard is a divine tool. I must do Him justice and harness the sacred, for the betterment of humankind.

 

April 15th

 

Having settled into the cabin by the lake, a new prelude poured out of me quite easily. This well tempered clavier—this perfect keyboard—is the instrument for writing with. The new prelude I speak of begins with rhythmic arpeggios that stay similar throughout, but shift in tone–creating many moods.

 

Ambulating around lake Zwenkau with the keyboard strapped to my shoulders has unleashed previously untapped creative power. My work is feeling altogether fresher and more vital than it has for years. I must, however, be discreet during my perambulations—for I do not wish to be discovered in possession of such an inexplicable device.

 

April 16th

 

I have decided that ‘The Well Tempered Clavier’ is a fitting title for this new set of songs–in tribute to this finest of celestial instruments.

 

April 17th

 

It looks as though my brief but prolific time with Moog could be drawing to a close. Its keys are warbling and droning and I cannot write. The moaning timbre suggests a loss of power—but I cannot breathe life into her as I would a pump organ. I despair at losing a great ally. Has she done her service and is she ready to return to the Lord?

 

Yes, perhaps there is even a limit to God’s inspiration. Or perhaps the journey here took too long and I missed His window of opportunity.

 

The temptation to tamper with Moog’s interior and investigate her source of power is great. But I am loathe to push my luck and upset Him. Perhaps if I am patient, He will grant me more time with her.

 

April 18th

 

Moog is dead. And if those are God’s fingers around her throat, then so be it. His will is final. Perhaps I have angered Him with my egotism? My competitive nature and desire to be the best could be mistaken for such a sin.

 

Today—as I wept frustratedly—I hammered Moog’s keys and buttons, and she vanished before my eyes. Is her being snatched away from me a sign that I should have mourned her passing more gracefully?

 

Now I am bereft of a muse and an instrument. I must return to Leipzig and finish writing my preludes and fugues. One can only hope that Moog’s inspiration carries over to the harpsichord and piano. What a short lived, but beautiful gift.

 

*

 

When the Liberation keytar landed back on the workbench in the Moog boardroom in 1980, it did so quietly and without any fuss. Steve was handing out the hastily put together new edition of the blueprints to his engineers for the rebuild when one of them noticed a familiar sight.

 

‘Um, Steve—what’s that sitting on the bench?’

 

The half a dozen engineers pushed their chairs back and stampeded over to the workbench.

 

‘It’s the Liberation!’

 

‘Oh, thank god.’ Steve said. Bach would have approved.

 

‘Ah, good work,’ Steve’s CEO said, as he walked into the boardroom. ‘That was a fast build! Now the shareholders can finally hear that demo. Mind if I give it a whirl?’

 

‘No! Don’t press the—‘

 

The CEO had already strode over and hammered the demo button with a gleeful grin.

 

Steve pulled at his hair.

 

*

 

Johan Sebastian Bach got to spend more time with his beloved Moog. He made good use of it by writing the rest of The Well Tempered Clavier. But he slipped and pressed the demo button again, sending Moog careening forwards through the spacetime continuum to 1980 again.

 

Bach took losing Moog a second time rather more stoically. And to him, its comings and goings were still attributable to divine intervention. He thought its visits to be relative to how chaste (or not) a life he had been living. So he polished up his already squeaky clean lifestyle in the hopes that God would grant him more time with Moog.

 

Steve and his colleagues were oblivious to the fact they had been playing temporal ping pong with a musical giant. Not only had their Liberation keytar played a part in helping Bach write one of his most famous pieces, but it looked pretty badass slung over the shoulders of Gary Numan and members of DEVO as they strutted their stuff on MTV. This is a testament to the versatility of the Liberation. Never before had one musical instrument been both the closely guarded secret of a 19th century musical genius and a bold and brash musical statement in the decade of excess.

I have to say, Marco Rubio is a genius. This guy has been sanctioned by China and can’t even set foot in the country. If he can’t go to China, how can he possibly handle U.S. diplomacy?

Marco Rubio is filled with fear of China. The Chinese only need one weather balloon to make him hysterical, like a menopausal woman.

Diplomacy between great powers is an “art.” If shouting and ranting were enough to handle diplomacy, then we could just hire a husky to do the job.

Greek Spinach and Feta Baked Eggs

This crust-less “spanakopita” spin-off creates colorful swirls of green spinach and sliced Kalamata olives in a cheesy fluff of baked eggs.

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58223b3ebc0e32b53c6187b9a53b8b96

Yield: 6 to 9 servings

Ingredients

  • 8 tablespoons (1 stick) Challenge Butter (divided)
  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 cup chopped onion
  • 10 ounces fresh prewashed spinach, roughly chopped*
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
  • 5 eggs
  • 1 cup ricotta cheese
  • 1 cup (5 ounces) crumbled feta cheese
  • 1/4 cup sliced Kalamata olives

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a 9 inch square or round glass baking dish. Brush butter evenly over the sides and bottom of the dish and set aside.
  3. Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a sauté pan over medium heat; stir in flour to form a dry roux; continue to stir and cook (about 3 minutes) until mixture gives off a slight “nutty” aroma. Set this mixture aside.
  4. In large skillet, melt the remaining 4 tablespoons of butter over medium heat. Stir in cayenne pepper, salt and onions; cook until the onions are soft. Stir in spinach and basil and continue to sauté until the spinach is wilted. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Then combine roux and spinach mixtures.
  5. In a large bowl, beat the eggs, add ricotta cheese and blend until the mixture is smooth.
  6. Fold in spinach mixture, feta cheese and half the olives. Pour into prepared baking dish. Sprinkle remaining olives over the top and press gently into the surface.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees F for 35 minutes (or until edges begin to brown and center is firm).
  8. Allow to set for 10 minutes before cutting.

Notes

* Spinach needs to be as dry as possible. If washing, drain and pat dry with paper towels.

精選 – 珠海航展中俄頂尖精銳盡出 解放軍”這武器”首曝光嚇壞美智庫|#寰宇新聞 #寰宇全視界

Full modern lethality is on show in Zhuhai.

Father’s inheritance and our family vacation

Single? What planet have you been dozing on? Clearly not this one. Take a look at the globe. At, to use a tired old term, the new world order as it is 51 days from New Year’s 2025.

That map has upwards from 75% of the globe’s nations and its people – and its new wealth creation – committed to one or more China-fostered communities.

150 are card-carrying members of what I’ve taken to calling ‘Club Belts & Roads’. 120 are invested in China-created China-based Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank – including all America’s ‘allies’ except Japan. Virtually all of Eurasia, except for the wee European Union bit, is committed to and invest in the China-created fostered Shanghai Cooperative Organization.

Then there’s the rapidly expanding in numbers, wealth and influence – in ‘leverage’ – BRICS pact. Let’s compare the purchasing power parity GDP of BRICS+ to that of the G7. BRICS+: 65.6Trillion versus G7: 57.6T. Yep. China’s crew has surged upwards above America’s fully $8T. Comparing what America’s GDP can purchase to what China’s can? It’s China out front and pulling away $37T to $29T. China’s community-building is profiting the PRC in proportion to the entire group’s profit-making.

Compare the SCO’s (the Shanghai Cooperative Organization) purchasing power to that of our entire ‘West’ – the US/UK/ EU/Japan – the SCO is ahead and gaining. By the only real meaningful measure for wealth – what the contents of the bank acct. can buy – the SCO (that pact 99% of Americans don’t know of) is wealthier than that combined ‘West’. The SCO wouldn’t/doesn’t exist without China. China is swaddled in cooperative relationships. In mutually beneficial alliances.

Seinfeld Power Hour

Have some fun!

US-UK to BLOW-UP Undersea Internet Cables

***** FLASH ***** URGENT ***** US-UK to BLOW-UP Undersea Internet Cables

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telegeography map cables large

Word is seeping-out from Intelligence sources saying the Biden regime in the US and the Starmer Regime in the UK are preparing to BLOW-UP undersea Internet cables, to cut global communications.

The world is apparently “too informed” for their liking, and shutting off international Internet access will cut off the free flow of information long enough for them to start World War 3, and blame Russia/China/North Korea for it.

Madmen seem to be in charge of government nowadays, and they want to start world war 3 BEFORE Donald Trump enters the White House.  According to Intel sources, they feel starting it now, before he enters the office of President, would bind him to the war and make it impossible for him to avoid it.

They need their war to collapse the world economy, to thereby enable them to say to US and UK Creditors, “Our economy is wrecked, our people are dead, we can’t replay the TRILLIONS we owe, we need debt forgiveness.”

THAT seems to be what’s driving this course of action – the need to walk away from debt but blame it on the war.

We are all in grave danger now.

Baked Macaroni with Beef and Cheese (Pasticcio)

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560c4cbbcb69036e034a0beabd1f7f47

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups uncooked ziti or elbow macaroni
  • 3/4 pound ground beef
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1 (15 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 cups grated Kasseri, Parmesan or Romano cheese
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 1/4 cups milk
  • 3 tablespoons butter
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Instructions

  1. Cook macaroni as directed on package; drain. Cook and stir beef and onion in a 10 inch skillet until beef is light brown; drain. Stir in tomato sauce and salt. Spread half the macaroni in a greased 8-inch square baking dish; cover with beef mixture.
  2. Mix 1/2 cup of the cheese and cinnamon. Sprinkle over beef mixture. Cover with remaining macaroni.
  3. Cook and stir milk and butter in a 2 quart saucepan until butter is melted. Stir at least half the milk mixture gradually into beaten eggs. Blend into milk mixture in saucepan; pour over macaroni. Sprinkle with remaining 1 cup cheese.
  4. Bake uncovered at 325 degrees F until brown and center is set, about 50 minutes.
  5. Sprinkle with nutmeg. Garnish with parsley if desired.

Haven’t Lived…

Submitted into Contest #174 in response to: Write a story about a brilliant scientist making a startling discovery. view prompt

John K Adams

 “As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.”

― Albert Einstein

Artie Fischer began his day convinced he was on the cusp of something big. The theoretical physicist had focused on his pet research project for months. A breakthrough so close, it lay in tasting range.

Those months passed, one season blurring into another. Artie scarcely knew the time of day. Eating had no priority. His team worked non-stop. They’d say, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead…’ Then they’d laugh. No one had died so far.

Artie hoped humor would get them through this crunch.

Artie’s main IT guy, Derrick, petitioned to add four hours to each day. They could work twenty and still sleep a full eight.

If his theory proved out, Artie’s legacy would have historical implications. The computer models supported his dream of a Nobel Prize bearing his name.

He left before his family awakened. He didn’t remember the commute. Artie barely knew his name. His identity and this project were fused.

He settled into his desk chair, entered some code and ran a test. A warning flashed that a bug needed attention.

“What now…?” Artie tapped his fingers. ‘Computers are so slow…

Artie knew some discoveries were incidental to the research goal. An unpredicted result appears, is analyzed, and recognized. Innovation takes over. Something no one sought presents itself and changes everything. Millions of people benefit from a meaningful detour. The original purpose may become superfluous as the discovery captures the news.

Ever hear of penicillin? Who would expect moldy bread to save lives? The list goes on.

This anomaly would be okay, as long as he could isolate and develop it. It doesn’t always work out. Either way, he needed to solve the problem. Today.

Derrick had been seeking the elusive bug for days. He’d say he had it. Then report its mysterious disappearance. Frustration plus exhaustion wasted time.

Artie received Derrick’s latest test. His intuition kicked in. He tweaked the data.

Aha! The light went on. The trail was hot.

Artie stopped.

‘But no. That can’t be.

He stared at the screen. He broke away and walked around the compound. It made no sense. He stopped at a mirror. Was that his reflection? Or hallucination?

What’s going on?

He double checked his calculations. All sound. But the conclusions defying belief, were unmistakable, and undeniable. They made no sense. Months of data proved he, Artie Fischer, did not exist.

As in: Artie Does Not Exist.

“Impossible!” Artie threw a cup across the room. He didn’t look when it smashed. He rolled his eyes. That’s not his style. “But this!”

He walked to the kitchen. He expected each step to sink through the linoleum. But that wouldn’t happen. He didn’t exist.

Withholding the results, Artie sent Derrick the computations for analysis.

Derrick ran the sequence, shook his head, and scribbled some notes. He made a calculation and reran it.

He said, “I see… no, wait! No… It can’t be…” He looked at Artie on the screen. “I don’t get it. I thought I caught it. But no. Your code is perfect. I’m sorry.” He turned away and sobbed. “How can this be? I loved working with you.”

Artie cleared his throat. Derrick composed himself. Their eyes shifted from one screen to another, from their images to the stark results.

“Wait! It’s ridiculous. You’re not dead. You’re there, on the screen.”

“Derrick. It says I don’t exist.”

“When’s the funeral?”

“Focus Derrick. They don’t have funerals for what doesn’t exist. There’d be no time for anything else. Funerals celebrate the dead. And I’m not dead.”

Derrick nodded. “That makes sense.” But it didn’t. “How do you feel?”

Sitting in separate offices, they stared at each other via their monitors.

“How do you think I feel?”

“It’s incomprehensible.”

“You checked the calcs, Der. Do they lie?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know… They’re your numbers. Are they wrong?”

“They cancel everything I know to be true. I don’t feel non-existent… But I’m a scientist. My feelings don’t count. I observe the physical universe. I trust the data.”

“Maybe everything you know is wrong and you’re living a lie.”

“Wait, what?”

“Like when in a random series of numbers, what appears to be a non-random series appears…”

“Like 1, 2, 3, 4…”

“Exactly. It seems wrong. Our pattern hungry minds try to impose order. They project non-randomness. True randomness has no pattern.”

“Sure. Basic Chaos theory…” Hands to his face, Artie slumped back. “We’re so close, Der. Now what?”

“We’ll continue. Or I will.”

“You?”

“Why stop? I know where you were headed.”

“We can’t let this get out. The grants are to me…”

“I don’t know, Artie. The truth will out, and all that. You look good on grant apps. But I own the grunt work. Somehow, it always falls to me. And I’m the one getting results.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be straight. I should have those grants. You’re the front man. I do the work.”

This was new. Artie cocked his head. “You!”

“Be real. Has anyone ever seen you up close?”

Artie waved at Derrick’s image. “Of course. You’re talking to me right now.”

“Ha! Says ‘Zoom – Man of the Year.’ I mean face to face. You’re pixelating.”

Artie patted his body. It felt solid. “What’s your point?”

“Has anyone met you in the round? On your best day, two dimensions is the best you can muster. When did you actually touch another person?”

“Social anxiety doesn’t cancel my existence, Derrick. What are you driving at?”

Derrick shrugged. “I’ll be honest, Artie. You own the Zoom screen. On screen, you are better than anyone. But an opportunity called to me. So, I removed your third dimension.”

“That’s absurd. Who would do that? Anyway, Quantum mechanics is theoretical. It doesn’t manifest in the macro world.”

“Frankly, I didn’t think you’d notice. Who could predict your existence, or ‘non-existence,’ would pop up as a bug in that read out?”

“Remember? We’re scientists. Prediction is the job. Follow the evidence…”

“You did that. What now?”

“I can’t believe you betrayed me. You came to my house. We partied. Laughed together… Played with my kids.”

“Admitting you have a problem is a powerful first step, Artie. Siri and Alexa whisper behind your back.” Derrick yawned. “Face it. You’re a digital cousin to Ready Kilowatt.”

“Never met him.”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

Derrick made a notation.

He said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have work. Day dreaming may be a welcome diversion but is rarely productive.” He returned to his printout.

Artie felt dismissed. He’d been project director. This was his company. ‘Now I’m reduced to its digital mascot?’ Derrick’s coup opened his eyes. ‘What a fool I am…

He Skyped his wife, Harper.

“So, they taught you how to hit speed dial.”

Artie told her what happened.

“You don’t exist? That’s why you’re never home. My life has been an illusion. Finally, I’m free. You only found out now? I’ve known for years.”

“Harp, I fathered your children.”

“In your dreams.”

Artie realized he never dreamed.

She pressed her advantage. “Remember? Your hard drive kept crashing? Talk about bad timing…”

He got defensive. “Go ahead, laugh. But expect my salary to disappear.”

That gave her pause. She leaned in to the screen camera. “You look great on the internet ads. That’s the only face time we’ve had… in forever.”

Artie told the truth. “I’m not happy.”

She nodded. “So sad… You do look a bit pixelated.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Who does your hair? The Mario Brothers?”

“I have to go.”

“See you on the web.” Her screen went dark.

Artie realized his life had become a digital feedback loop. He didn’t exist. The lie of his life was the only thing not virtual about it.

His computer sat impassively awaiting his next command.

“What do you know?” he asked it with a shaming tone. He turned it off.

He stepped onto the balcony and gripped the cool metal railing as the sun retreated behind some clouds. The day was warm.

‘Am I but a ripple in the quantum soup?’

He’d often heard people recounting their dreams after waking. Artie realized his life was his only dream. He went dormant, but never slept. ‘Sleep is reserved for those present in their bodies, who exist.

A tinkling melody drifted up from the street. Artie saw about a dozen adults and children gather around a brightly colored food truck. He’d never seen such a thing.

Someone should tell them about their awful sound system…

Inquisitive at his core, Artie had to investigate.

Artie ran down the stairs, through the lobby and onto the lawn. A flock of crows took flight as the door burst open. Red and orange leaves fluttered from the trees.

As he approached the truck, he saw everyone eating something wrapped in paper. The children stood in a loose circle, giggling between bites.

He approached a man in business attire and asked, “Excuse me. What is that you’re eating?”

The stranger looked at Artie as if he were an alien. He nodded toward the truck decorated with dozens of bright pictures of various ice cream delicacies. He swallowed and wiped bits of chocolate and cream from his mouth.

“Ice cream cone. You haven’t lived ‘til you eat one of these.” He pointed to the distinctive wrapper.

Several of the kids held their identical cones up and said, “Yeah!” The rest began to laugh.

“Interesting…”

Artie walked up to the truck with its side propped open like an awning. The man inside smiled.

Artie said, “Do you have any more of what they’re eating? What are they called?”

“They’re popular, those Dream-ices.” The man rummaged in the freezer and held a Dream-ice by the protruding stick. “Your lucky day. Last one…”

Artie paid the man and took the paper covered object. Steam ran down its sides and cooled his hand. He carefully ripped the paper open and took a bite.

Flavor exploded into his mouth. He’d never tasted anything like it.

“Wow!”

For the first time in his life, Artie began to live.

Plenty:

  • Women are guaranteed second class citizens.
  • Their work culture is extremely intense, competitive & life draining. This also leads to similar aspects in their schooling.
  • The kids at school have such strict dress codes, even their underwear has to be sanctioned & is sometimes checked to make sure, & their hair has to be black, even if it’s not their natural color, forcing kids as young as five to dye it. They also have to wear specific, season appropriate clothes to & from school within the time frames allotted, even if they have a weird weather day.
  • An entire class of people are shunned & the accepted term for them is treated as a slur just because of the line of work they do- butchers. They even publish all the families of this class in a publicly available books to ensure no accidental marriages occur between them & everyone else.
  • There are backwards, extremist/ nationalist sects of Bhuddism & Shinto that are not just 100% literalist in their beliefs, but who want the government to fully embrace them & declare war on the entire planet in the name of their religion. Thankfully, they are minorities & fairly well known.
  • They have their own organized crime syndicates, known as the Yakuza.
  • Their policing has been known to be somewhat unfair, & they have the right to detain anyone they think is a potential suspect for months, trying daily to convince them to admit they did it in return for going home.
  • They have a class of modern entertainers called idols who are drawn in by managers at a young age, are usually dropped upon reaching adulthood & have contracts with extremely strict provisions, including micromanaging their weight & that they agree to never date anyone while under contract, to keep up the appearance of availability to potential love stricken fans.
  • Until very recently (like, within the last 5yrs), Japanese porn used very upsetting tactics to trick young, naive women into ending up in a porno, then used that to permanently blackmail them into choosing being a porn star as a life career. If they ever tried to get a job elsewhere, standard practice was to never hire known porn stars or fire them immediately if it ever became apparent. They only just passed laws to protect women from this practice.
  • It is 100% socially unacceptable to ever accuse a soldier/ warrior of any immoral act done during their service to the point that people have gotten fired & had their lives permanently ruined just for stating accepted facts concerning war crimes the Japanese were ever involved in in known history.

EDIT: I am amazed how far this one went & how many comments I’ve gotten. Just want to say, I recognize Japan has just as many, if not more positive traits & my own country isn’t perfect either, but the OP asked for negative, so they got negative. Japan has also been moving away from several of these issues in recent years, too, so it may be up in the air as to who has to deal with them, where, to what degree & how. All of these things have come from people who have lived/ worked in Japan & a few were common knowledge, irregardless. I hope no one feels like I am deliberately demonizing an entire nation, but either way, the issues brought up are theirs to deal with how they will. I have plenty of my own problems, here.

Chicken with Rice (Kottopoula Me Pilafi)

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3f1d70f320eb9b1f320fd16fb9603c93

Ingredients

  • 3 pounds chicken parts
  • 1/2 cup butter
  • 2 tablespoons oregano
  • 2 tablespoons lemon juice
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1 1/2 pounds tomatoes, peeled and chopped
  • 3 cups long-grain white rice
  • 6 cups chicken stock

Instructions

  1. In a large saucepan melt butter over medium heat and add chicken. Brown on all sides then remove from pan and set aside.
  2. Add onion and tomato and sauté until onion turns translucent. Stir in oregano and lemon juice.
  3. Add rice and stir well to combine and coat all grains of rice.
  4. Add chicken stock, stir and return chicken to pot. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, until all surface liquid has been absorbed.
  5. Cover, turn heat to very low and cook 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes to keep rice from burning or sticking.

Why Is WaPo Reporting A Trump-Putin Call That Did Not Take Place?

This is curious.

The Washington Post is reporting a phone call between U.S. President-elect Donald Trump and President Vladimir Putin of the Russian Federation.

Trump talked to Putin, told Russian leader not to escalate in UkraineWashington Post, Nov 10 2024
President-elect Donald Trump spoke with Russian President Vladimir Putin on Thursday and discussed the war in Ukraine, according to people familiar with the call.

President-elect Donald Trump spoke with Russian President Vladimir Putin on Thursday, the first phone conversation between the two men since Trump won the election, said several people familiar with the matter.During the call, which Trump took from his resort in Florida, he advised the Russian president not to escalate the war in Ukraine and reminded him of Washington’s sizable military presence in Europe, said a person familiar with the call, who, like others interviewed for this story, spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a sensitive matter.

Ukraine’s government, says WaPo, was informed of the call.

The Kremlin denies that any such phone call and talk has taken place:

Kremlin denies call between Putin and TrumpAFP/MSN, Nov 11 2024
Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov dismissed reports of a conversation, calling it “completely false information.”

The Kremlin on Monday denied a US media report that Russian President Vladimir Putin and US president-elect Donald Trump shared a call about the Ukraine conflict.

Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov told journalists that the report was “simply false information”, denying any phone call took place.

Steven Cheung, Trump’s communications director, did not confirm the exchange, telling AFP in a written statement that “we do not comment on private calls between President Trump and other world leaders.”

I have failed to find the original quote by Peskov but trust – The full Peskov quote, via RIA Novosti (in Russian), confirms – that the AFP has got it right (machine translation):

“This is the most obvious example of the quality of the information that is now published sometimes even in fairly reputable publications. This is completely untrue. This is pure fiction. This is just false information,” he told reporters, answering a corresponding question.

Ukraine likewise denies any knowledge of a call:

KYIV (Reuters) – Ukraine’s foreign ministry said on Sunday that reports Kyiv was informed in advance of a phone call between U.S. President- elect Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin were false.The Washington Post, citing people familiar with the matter, reported that Trump and Putin spoke by phone on Thursday and discussed the war in Ukraine. It said Kyiv was informed of the call and did not object to the conversation taking place.

“Reports that the Ukrainian side was informed in advance of the alleged call are false. Subsequently, Ukraine could not have endorsed or opposed the call,” foreign ministry spokesperson Heorhii Tykhyi told Reuters.

According to the Washington Post the alleged phone call took place on Thursday, November 7. That very same day Putin was giving a talk at the Valdai Discussion Club. During the discussion Putin asserted that he had yet to talk with Donald Trump:

Putin confirmed he had yet to talk with Trump in the wake of his victory — but indicated that he’d pick up the phone if the U.S. president-elect called.Explaining that he hasn’t phoned Trump himself “because the leaders of Western countries were calling me almost every week at some point, and then suddenly they stopped,” Putin added: “If any of them wants to resume contact, I have always said and I want to say again: we have nothing against it.”

Asked whether he was prepared to hold discussions with Trump, even before he’s inaugurated, Putin said his administration is “ready, ready.”

I doubt that the Trump campaign was listening live to Putin and picked up the phone to call him on that very same day. I thus believe the Kremlin spokesman – i.e no call has taken place – and regard the Washington Post report as a hoax.

The Washington Post sourcing – “a person familiar with the call” – is extremely vague. The authors of the piece are Ellen Nakashima, John Hudson and Josh Dawsey.

Ellen Nakashima is known for ‘reporting’ this or that nonsense about ‘Russigate’ for which she and others received a Pulitzer Price. We today know that the alleged Russian influence in the 2016 election has been a hoax that has been thoroughly debunked.

This then leaves us with questions:

  • Who has told Nakashima that a phonecall between Trump and Putin has taken place?
  • What was the purpose of making such a claim?

I currently fail to come up with satisfactory answers to those questions.

I do believe though that the motive is related to this part of the Post‘s report:

[Trump] “reminded him of Washington’s sizable military presence in Europe

Sorry, but the U.S. presence in Europe, currently some 50,000 soldiers, of whom, at most, some 5,000-7,500 are proper frontline troops, is not something that will make the Kremlin tremble.

So:

  • Who would want to put the presence of U.S. troops in Europe into a discussion about Ukraine?
  • For what purpose?

Please let me know your answers to those questions.

Posted by b on November 11, 2024 at 11:02 UTC | Permalink

I taught English there for two years. I taught in Beijing and a little bit in Kunming as well.

China is an interesting place. I call it the land of contradiction. You will hear one thing and experience something totally different. Every foreigner thinks they have a firm grasp and a lay of the land within a year, but very few actually do. We are talking about a very rich, ancient culture and 1.4 billion people. You could try a new dish every day and you’d have onLy scratched the surface of Chinese cuisine. They are curious, inquisitive people and you will often get asked questions about your home country. Chinese people are quite patriotic as well and keep up with world affairs, always measuring how China is being treated. During the height of the South China Sea dispute, as an American I was quizzed about my opinion often. I even heard “wo bu Xi Huan Mei Guo” (I don’t like America) a few times around then. I handled this like Bruce Lee and made myself like water. I simply said I was from France during the more politically charged times to avoid political discussion. But USUALLY…they were very much enamored by America. Chinese people actually love Americans and they love our life style. We should really reciprocate it and learn to love them and pay attention to them, too. Doing this would inevitably bring our countries closer, which is something I’d love to see.

You will never be Chinese. Even if you study mandarin and Chinese history for over 10 years (met a few people who did), you will ALWAYS be a LAO Wai (foreigner). To be fair, this isn’t only unique to China. Japanese, Koreans, Vietnamese, and almost every other nation on earth shares this sentiment. But as an American, it can be a little discouraging and make you a little apathetic towards the notion of integrating too much. What’s the point?

Which by the way, I prefer. I never felt at home entirely, which kept things very very interesting. There are many positives to this. In Beijing there is a strip of clubs called “gong ti” that gave free entrance and free liquor to foreigners… mannnn… those were wild times. Many times I puked, many times I did stupid things, but EVERY TIME…. I met amazing people and had a great night out. Chinese people are pretty fun to party with. Get a few glasses of Bai Jiu into them and they become ballsy and hilarious. I remember one time me and my friends all started arm wrestling some Chinese at a table and it got competitive and ridiculous.. Great people, great night.

They will be eager to show you their food, their culture, and their lifestyle. They are proud of it. You will get many free meals, many invitations, and a lot of good energy.

Do not discuss the three T’s (Tian an men, Tibet, and Taiwan). You are a guest there and you will not make a dent in the collective opinions of the Chinese, so getting political about hot button issues will only shorten your time there and make it miserable. Try to realize that the average Chinese person is like the Average person anywhere; they want cool stuff, good hot food in their bellies, beautiful women/successful men, and good friends. Chinese are very social and will go out for big meals like once a weak at least. I had the equivalent of Thanksgiving feasts 3 times a month at least between friends, Co workers, and work events.

Learning Chinese makes life more interesting.

These three phrases are the most important to getting to know Chinese people in China

Wo shi <insert name of your country here) Ren

Hao Chi (delicious)

And GAN BEI (cheers)

Those three phrases will serve you well. To anyone reading this, good luck and have fun! Screw politics… Let the politicians worry about that. Go travel and meet people. You won’t regret it.

Shorpy

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Plaga Iuventae

Submitted into Contest #174 in response to: Write a story about a brilliant scientist making a startling discovery. view prompt

Steffen Lettau

This story contains sensitive content

Author’s note: this is a fictional take on a virus based on a real genetic condition called Progeria. The author acknowledges those who suffer from the condition, in any and all of its levels of severity, and wants to express that this story is not an accurate depiction, nor demeaning, of those diagnosed with the condition. The author also acknowledges that this story does not accurately depict, nor demean, any Vietnam War veteran living or not.If Claire Patterson was alive today, he would be pardoned. Why would I say this? Because half the world wants to arrest me, and the other half wants me dead, and all because I held what I perceived to be the Fountain of Youth in the palm of my hand.My name is Doctor Blake Plakkim, and I am… sorry, I was a virologist. I did not graduate at the top of my class, but my knowledge in the fields of biology, specifically microbes and viral strains, was indispensable. Still, it was a wait for an internship, and I only got one because several others didn’t show up due to illnesses (ironic, yet poetic). The corporation that finally accepted me (which will remain anonymous, as I don’t want to dispose of all my potential chips) had state-of-the-art lab equipment, tools beyond what many modern-world hospitals utilize, and also featured a documentation department rivaled only by the Library of Congress; that department was where I started my fool’s journey.For nine months, I had to grunt my way through labeling and dating cases throughout the world of viral strains from the major common cold the the more rarer, and potentially more deadly, mutated variations of Marburg. During that time, I took on the extra hours, and I committed favors for a few higher-ups (who will also remain anonymous). You could say that I sold my soul to a few devils, but those labs were too good to pass up! And I finally got into the main lab! The computers, the chemicals, the tools, the boards, the models – I felt like I had gone to Heaven. Again, ironic yet poetic.A couple years had gone by, and we were still working with diseases that, though dangerous and handled with care, weren’t garnering the interests of the higher-ups; even my excitement of finally getting to actually work in the “virologist suite” had petered out a few months prior, and we had been stuck in the mundane atmosphere that was supposed to stay in the documentation room where it belonged. The only way we were ever going to turn any heads was with either a whole new virus, which could be done in any corporate or even government lab, or finding a cure for something like the common cold (which still eluded us even with this advanced technology), or even Marseillesvirus. Rare diseases break the monotony of the work day, and what we recently got from two hosts of an unexplained condition had us buzzing with anticipation.A couple samples, one from each host, was given to us; the first host had died from an accident (which was not elaborated upon for “family discretion” reasons), and the bundle of now-dead cells with the traces of the viral strain offered almost no answers. Surprisingly, the second host willingly submitted himself to this very corporation; my request to interview him were initially denied due to plausible dangers that come from an unknown variant, which makes sense as we are better off safe than sorry. I scraped what I could from the dead cell sample, and then switched over to the recently donated cluster. It was during my study of this particular variant that my life, and the lives of countless millions, changed.As stated before, the dead host’s dead sample didn’t offer much, even though the crazy-straw appearance of the strains did draw attention. But the second sample yielded something spectacular; the virus behaved like the WO virus, basically drilling into the human cells. Instead of tearing apart the cell like a normal virus, it actually was working overtime to preserve the cells and keep then functioning. The metabolisms taking place, which broke down the cells over time, were being reversed – the cells were being healed! I felt that this was the greatest discovery since splitting the atom, and I just had to try and get that interview!Another favor was carried out, and the word was given for me to talk with the second host, code-named “Todd” for anonymity. For security’s sake, it was in a windowless room, with only one door that swings in and mechanically locks from the outside, and has cameras embedded into the corners to prevent tampering. For safety’s sake, I had to wear a full HazMat suit and carry two wireless microphones, transmitting both our voices to a computer to record every word spoken down to the last whisper. I introduced myself and told the host he would be referred by his code-name, which he understood. To shorten the hour-long interview, I will say this: he told me that, despite appearing in his late-twenties, he was seventy years old.Impossible! Actually, what I said was more expletive, but Todd explained: he knew the dead man, code-named Mort (yes, laugh it up), and both served in Vietnam. When the war appeared to not turn in the American’s favor, the government tried an experimental strike with a biological agent, a weaponized version of Progeria (a symptom that causes rapid aging). Todd and Mort, along with their squad, delivered the payload near the border separating the southern half of the country from the north, where a concentration of Viet Cong and their Northern allies were converging. Given the danger, they had to bring the weapon on foot, put it near the encampment, set it and get out. Before they could leave the area, though, an airstrike came upon them, and the area became a scene out of Dante’s Inferno.Todd explained that he didn’t know the exact details, only that both he and Mort survived and were quarantined until the end of the war. After many tests, of which no information was shared to the soldiers beyond a clearance of health, they were honorably discharged. They went their separate ways, Todd got married and started a yard business, and then he started noticing something strange. A severe accident had left his arm reportedly irreparable; one week later, his arm was working again and even the scars were gone! As if that wasn’t enough, he noticed that certain lines on his face had lessened, even vanished; he can’t recall when he had wrinkles.The virus, manipulated from a genetic disorder, not only failed as a weapon, but it worked backwards from the desired effect! These two men were the closest to the weapon when the airstrike happened, and were the only ones effected; the strain had literally embedded itself into their genetics, and was reversing the metabolisms that broke cells down over time, thereby de-aging the hosts! I did it! I turned the heads, I garnered the attention, and I had begun a new age of discovery! I was consumed with my excitement that the doubt hit harder than it should; how was I going to apply this? Potentially, this virus could save lives literally at death’s doorstep, but how were we going to extract it? The answer came sooner than I realized; according to some of my seniors, permission was given from the host to take and utilize the strain. I wanted to hear it from Todd’s mouth, but the denial came with the confounding reason that Todd was being moved again. I was given samples, and I had my new goal established.Two years, seventeen-thousand hours working from the lab to the conference room to even the documentation room, and only enough sleep to function for the next day had culminated in what we all though was the triumph of the century. With the medical treatment proclaimed “Iuventus”, Latin for “of the youth”, the elderly could basically buy themselves more time, the severely injured would heal from all wounds, and prescription drugs would become irrelevant. The feedback was positive for the next two years, and our company enjoyed the profits and the fame, and I was elevated to be the voice of this discovery, lifted to the spotlight and heard around the world as the appraised doctor of a new age!We received the first wave of problems from within our home town. 

In Murphy’s Law, anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and our mistake was not accounting for all of anything. In our push to rejuvenate and heal the body, we didn’t take into account that all organic things not only age, but push through obstacles that try to slow down or even stop aging. The telomeres, the protein at the end of the chromosomes, went into a reactive overdrive after eighteen months of the viral application; as if that wasn’t enough, the white blood cells started attacking the cells where the telomeres reacted the strongest, possibly identifying such as a form of cancer. A great illness befell the victim, followed a short time later by death via complications. Reflecting on this, one must ask if this was what the government tried using to end a war?

 

That doesn’t matter now; after the first wave, more reports came from several countries, most notably from the Middle East and several African nations, followed by angry reports from Central and South America. Within a few months, the death toll had reached two billion, all attributed to our treatment, and since I was the elevated voice of the facility, my name went around with a great curse; I was labeled “Doctor Plague”, and charged with just about every single crime from fraudulence and conspiracy of destabilizing a nation or two (or a few dozen) to mass manslaughter and even murder. I was not safe in my own country, which was working on a warrant for my arrest for what the Senate called “abuse of medical knowledge and power for monetary gain”. The higher-ups, all of whom I had provided everything they had ever asked for, turned me away, and even one stated that all they did was open the door when I asked it of them, and I was to take responsibility for walking through it. The nerve of these brutes, leaving me out to dry! I even suspected that permission was never given from Todd, wherever he is – the only man who could help prove my innocence, and he was probably in the same place as Mort.

I already submitted my resignation, pulled my money and any other resources that I could get, closed my accounts, and spent my last day at the facility wiping down any surface that might have my fingerprints. I sold my car and most of my property, while donating so much out of a need to hurry; I had to get into hiding! According to the last few allies I had left, there were bounties being carried out from Brunei, Laos, the Netherlands, Brazil, and South Africa to end my life. Meanwhile, so many other nations were blasting the mainstream news about how I should pay for all the damage that the “medicine” had done.

 

This will be the last you hear from me. I will be on foot, I will be avoiding cities as much as possible, there will be no contact with family or friends, and I will be taking my copies of my work with me if only to understand better what I have done wrong; I cannot undo the damage that I have done but, perhaps, I can figure out how to fix this mess. Or I could figure out how to make the cure work…

The Economic War Against China Has Backfired

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Author Felix Abt at Luckin Coffee, a Starbucks competitor, in Shanghai. [Source: Photo courtesy of Felix Abt]

Just 15 years ago, Chinese consumers were flocking to Western brands. Now they prefer Chinese ones.

The fate of the Starbucks Group is telling: Sales and profits in its current 7,300 stores in China are declining. The Chinese are not drinking less coffee, but prefer Chinese brands, partly because they offer more for less money.

Luckin Coffee, which was only founded in 2017, is rapidly taking market share from the American market leader. Even outside of China, such as in Singapore, Luckin Coffee stores are popping up everywhere and competing with Starbucks.

Luckin Coffee Bloomberg.X
[Source: bloomberg.com]

Bloomberg reported that Luckin Coffee, and no longer Starbucks, is now the largest coffee retailer in China.

The turnaround of the company, which was on the verge of bankruptcy four years ago, is due to the chain’s automated stores, low-cost offerings and innovative drinks that cater to local tastes. In terms of volume, it offers the same amount of coffee, but at one-third the price of Starbucks.

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Price comparison of the four major coffee restaurant chains in China. [Source: twitter.com]

Luckin Coffee is not the only thriving Chinese coffee company; another example is Manner Coffee, which has opened more than 1,000 stores in China. Of course, Luckin Coffee and Manner Coffee are just two examples from one industry.

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screen 2024 11 11 15 37 31

The same is happening in many other sectors. With increasing Sinophobia from the West, Chinese consumers are becoming consumer patriots who prefer Chinese products and services: In 2011, only 15% of Chinese said they would prefer Chinese over foreign brands; by 2020, 85% said they would prefer Chinese products. Given the increasingly anti-China policies and rhetoric, this proportion is likely to be even higher today.

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McKinsey survey: Chinese people increasingly prefer Chinese products. [Source: medium.com]

Sanctions to contain China

Since 2016, the U.S. has imposed thousands of sanctions and other “penalties” against China. More than 70 Chinese technology companies have been targeted by Washington, and entire regions, such as the Xinjiang Autonomous Region, have been banned (by the U.S.) from exporting goods to the U.S.

Hundreds of Chinese government officials have been banned from visiting or communicating with U.S. companies.

Not only is the economic assault continuing, but it is being relentlessly intensified, with allies allowing themselves to be used by Washington against their own interests.

The unilateral coercive measures under Washington’s leadership were implemented with the intention of “containing” China and keeping it poor, rather than allowing it to rise again.

The Trauma of the Opium Wars

This brings back extremely bad memories in China: Before the Opium Wars against China under British leadership, which began the “century of humiliation,” China’s economy was strong and self-sufficient and had a trade surplus with European countries.

Opiumkrieg 1
Opium War, which the British won thanks to better weapon technology. [Source: archives.boulderweekly.com]
Opiumkrieg 2
The forced import of opium led to a huge addiction catastrophe in China. [Source: commons.wikimedia.org]

The Chinese want to prevent the Western powers from imposing another century of humiliation on them at all costs.

X Economist.Opium
Headline in The Economist: “The Opium Wars still shape China’s view of the West.” [Source: economist.com]
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Few in the West understand China’s fear of further traumatic aggression from the West. [Source: thediplomat.com]

Huawei became too strong for the West

Huawei is one of the companies that had to be destroyed. The world’s leading manufacturer of telecommunications equipment counted 80% of the world’s 50 largest telecommunications companies among its customers. Huawei sold its products in more than 170 countries.

Huawei Laden
A Huawei customer center. [Source: medium.com]

In order to eliminate this serious competitor for U.S. companies, the U.S. government ensured that Huawei no longer had access to foreign microchips and to Western and other markets. As a result, Huawei had to sell its leading computer and smartphone subsidiary Honor in 2020.

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The “Honor” company advertises its smartphone. [Source: honor.com]

Denied access to key components such as chips, which are essential for the production of smartphones, Huawei decided to sell its cell phone business to a lesser-known Chinese company to ensure the survival of its successful product, as the buyer could operate without the same restrictions. This move was also intended to protect Honor’s suppliers, partners and employees and ensure that the brand could maintain its market presence and continue to innovate. In 2020, Huawei parted ways with Honor completely.

Huawei’s turnover and profitability slumped dramatically. Washington almost managed to drive Huawei into bankruptcy. However, like many other Chinese companies that the U.S. wanted to kill, Huawei has reinvented itself and resurrected itself as China’s most productive high-tech company. It is expanding into new sectors such as port automation and electric vehicles.

Huawei presents new cars from an automotive alliance with other Chinese companies, founded in 2023, in its showroom in Shanghai. [Source: tork.buzz]
Huawei.Summit
Huawei has recovered from the boycott by the U.S. and allied countries. [Source: koreaherald.com]

Huawei, which is once again manufacturing laptops and cell phones using only Chinese components, is currently taking significant market share from Apple, which used to be highly profitable in China.

[Source: ft.com]

What the major Western media did not report, the Indian business and financial news service “ET NOW” did: Apple was defeated by Huawei in its largest overseas market.

ET Now reports that “Huawei’s rise is attributed to its in-house development of a chip.” Unable to co-exist and compete peacefully with China, Washington’s embargo policy forced Chinese companies to innovate and become self-reliant. As a result, in the not too distant future, U.S. companies risk being outcompeted by hi-tech developed independently by the Chinese. [Source: youtube.com]

Today, China accounts for 70% of Huawei’s revenue.

Huawei not only produces excellent products and services, but has also positioned itself as China’s national champion. Chinese consumers, who have been anxiously watching the economic assault by foreign powers on Huawei and countless other Chinese companies, sided with the “underdog,” recalling the centuries of humiliation China suffered at the hands of foreign powers in the not-too-distant past.

Decline and outflow of foreign investment

There are headlines all over the world about the exodus of investors from China. This is partly because foreign investors are afraid of being penalized by Washington. Even Tesla cars made in China and exported to the U.S. are now subject to high U.S. import taxes. Other products that foreign investors manufacture in China are also being targeted.

The withdrawal of foreign investment is not the end of China. It is merely a reaction to the weaponization of foreign investment and trade by the U.S. and, what is more, to the failure of Western companies in the Chinese market.

U.S. car manufacturers, which sold millions of cars in China every year and made billions of dollars in profits, are no longer competitive and are scaling back their investments.

The outflow of foreign investment from China reflects two things: the threat to foreign investment from U.S. anti-China policies and the loss of competitiveness of foreign investors in China. The increase in Chinese investment abroad reflects the increased competitiveness of Chinese companies, which are capturing more and more market share outside China, including market share from the same competitors that are losing out in China’s domestic markets.

China has the largest middle class (with substantial savings) in the world, which continues to grow, in contrast to the Western middle classes, which are shrinking and becoming increasingly indebted. There is still plenty of room for expansion for companies that cater to the needs of the Chinese middle class. But it would not be surprising if Starbucks were to leave China in the not-too-distant future. After all, it is what Western China hawks have longed and worked so hard for.

Chinas Mittelschicht
The affluent middle class has grown considerably in China and will continue to do so. [Source: medium.com]

It will do the U.S. little harm if its remaining companies lose the world’s largest market—measured in terms of purchasing power parity and not GDP. This is because the United States already has a large trade deficit with China and, unlike Japan, South Korea and the European Union, it is not a strong exporter.

But the U.S.’s allies will suffer a considerable economic setback if they support Washington’s tough anti-China measures. Chinese customers will no longer be well-disposed toward them. This will jeopardize the prosperity of their populations. China has the advantage that its growing domestic economy accounts for the lion’s share of its overall economy.

In the worst-case scenario, China’s economy could become self-sufficient and strong as it was before the Opium Wars.

Beef and Onion Stew (Stifado)

A traditional Greek Beef and Onion Stew makes a comforting cold-weather meal.

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162de464dbc3190b67405aab8f15d7c9

Ingredients

  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 (2 pound) boneless beef chuck, tip or round, cut into 1 inch cubes
  • 1/2 cup dry red wine
  • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground pepper
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 stick cinnamon
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 1/2 pounds pearl onions, peeled
  • Crumbled feta cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook and stir chopped onion and garlic in oil in Dutch oven over medium heat until onion is tender; remove with slotted spoon.
  2. Cook beef in remaining oil, stirring frequently, until all liquid is evaporated and beef is brown on all sides, about 25 minutes; drain fat.
  3. Return onion and garlic to Dutch oven. Stir in remaining ingredients except onions and cheese. Heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer for 1 hour and 15 minutes.
  4. Add white onions. Cover and simmer until beef and white onions are tender, about 30 minutes.
  5. Remove bay leaf and cinnamon. Garnish with feta cheese, if desired.

‘AUKUS-plus and the realities of Australia’s involvement in US nuclear proliferation’

Sep 16, 2024

US attack submarines operating from Australia could be armed with US nuclear weapons at the stroke of a presidential decision; and US strategic bombers based in Australia could be nuclear-armed, as in fact USAF nuclear safety regulations permit in crisis already.

I was asked to speak today about ‘AUKUS and non- proliferation’ – which is already in itself a problem – because the standard and overly simple conceptions of what constitutes nuclear proliferation obscure the nuclear reality Australia has placed itself in.

The three AUKUS submarine projects are but a part of a wider restructuring of the place of Australia in United States alliance arrangements that might be termed ‘AUKUS-plus”.

Beyond the well-documented strategic, fiscal and defence capability risks and travails of the submarines projects, AUKUS-plus centres on Australian embrace of US-auspiced doctrines of ‘integrated deterrence’ to reshape Australia’s force posture through heightened integration with US combatant commands – including IndoPacific Command, Space Command, and indeed Cyber Command.

Witness, for example

  • AUKUS submarine bases east and west
  • integration of space surveillance capabilities at North West Cape with US planning for space warfare, yet more expansion of Pine Gap,
  • rotational deployment of B-52 nuclear-capable bombers to RAAF Base Tindal
  • dedicated USAF infrastructure at other northern airbases, and
  • hard wiring of Australian defence facilities into US networks, such as the integration of the Delamere Air Weapons Range into a single trans-Pacific virtual and material coalition air, space, and cyber weapons range stretching from Australia to Alaska.

These shifts are critical to understanding where Australia stands in relation to nuclear proliferation, but are obscured by conventional thinking about nuclear proliferation in terms of ‘horizontal’ and ‘vertical’ dimensions.
Horizontal proliferation is usually reduced to the question which countries have the bomb or seek to acquire it. This ‘who’s got the bomb?’ discourse is famously flawed by double standards.

We can’t stop talking about the dangers of actual or potentially outliers like North Korea and Iran, and we cannot begin to start talking about the dangers posed by Israel as the fifth or sixth largest nuclear weapons state.
Even more conceptually underdeveloped, ‘vertical proliferation’ is usually presented as a matter of a nuclear weapons state having more bombs or building better bombs, with side glances to the nuclear energy infrastructure underpinning weapons acquisition.

In reality, vertical proliferation properly understood includes acquisition and distribution of critical ‘non-nuclear’ infrastructure that enables use of nuclear weapons.

In the US case, this includes globally-distributed technologies of support for nuclear operations, including delivery systems, command, control, communication and intelligence capabilities (NC3I), precision-strike targeting, space-based surveillance and missile defence.

These are the underpinnings and capabilities without which ‘the bomb itself’ is effectively irrelevant.

For Australia, there are two salient modes of our involvement in US nuclear proliferation:

  • The hard materiality of military bases, delivery systems, bases, logistics, and so on, that underpin the extraordinary velocity of which US military activities are capable.
  • The dematerialised (but not wholly – sensors, computers and satellites are decidedly material) Herzian landscape of globally distributed NC3I facilities linking Washington and combatant commands to sensors and computers by globe-spanning optical fibre and satellite communications.

Australia’s nuclear posture has long been replete with elements of US vertical nuclear proliferation, and is now moving to more direct involvement in US nuclear operations.

  • Historically, our specialisation has been hosting NC3I – Pine Gap and in the past Nurrungar, North West Cape submarine communications, seismic detection of nuclear weapons, and so on.
  • The AUKUS submarine projects are strategically explicable only as a (marginal) contribution to nullifying China’s secure second strike nuclear force on its currently small number of ballistic missile submarines – themselves the essence of a plausible Chinese deterrent capability. The AUKUS debate has by and largely ignored the threat to this capability to which Australia is committing itself, with all its attendant risks– possibly the most destabilising contribution to ‘the ‘nuclear balance’ that Australia could possibly make.
  • The nuclear-capable strategic bomber deployments – currently for Tindal, and most likely other nuclear-capable bomber types to other airfields in due course – will launch from Australian bases, critically enabled by an RAAF protective screen of F-35s and early warning and control aircraft, and a fleet of refuelling tankers. The B-52 bomber deployment magnifies risk further by the Australian government’s positive embrace of entanglement of nuclear-capable and conventionally armed strategic weapons platforms at the one base. How is China to distinguish what B-52s are coming their way?

Australian deepening involvement with properly understood US vertical proliferation is a geographic kind of ‘horizontal’ proliferation, deepening our involvement in US nuclear operations.

And there may be more to come.

Australia may not yet be hosting US nuclear weapons, but recall that there are currently no legal or policy impediments to the introduction of nuclear weapons into Australia.

On the basis of Australia’s involvement with both US NC3I and active base support for strategic power projection, and the compromised sovereignty of our defence decision-making exemplified by the AUKUS catastrophic policy process, it is now possible to conceive two future plausible Australian pathways to US nuclear weapons in Australia, based on straightforward changes of current US policy:

  • US attack submarines operating from Australia could be armed with US nuclear weapons at the stroke of a presidential decision; and
  • US strategic bombers based in Australia could be nuclear-armed, as in fact USAF nuclear safety regulations permit in crisis already.
  • These are not fanciful considerations – certainly conceivable, technically and politically, and not implausible.

Panel presentation by Professor Richard Tanter to the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia Conference, AUKUS: Assumptions & Implications, Canberra, 16 August 2024

US orders TSMC to halt shipments of advanced AI chips to China

US orders TSMC to halt shipments of advanced AI chips to China

The U.S. ordered Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSM, 2330.TW)to halt shipments of advanced chips to Chinese customers that are often used in artificial intelligence applications starting Monday, according to a person familiar with the matter.

The Department of Commerce sent a letter to TSMC imposing export restrictions on certain sophisticated chips, of 7 nanometer or more advanced designs, destined for China that power AI accelerator and graphics processing units (GPU), the person said.

The U.S. order, which is being reported for the first time, comes just weeks after TSMC notified the Commerce Department that one of its chips had been found in a Huawei AI processor. Tech research firm Tech Insights had taken apart the product, revealing the TSMC chip and apparent violation of export controls.

Huawei, at the center of the U.S. action, is on a restricted trade list, which requires suppliers to obtain licenses to ship any goods or technology to the company. Any license that could aid Huawei’s AI efforts would likely be denied.

TSMC suspended shipments to China-based chip designer Sophgo after its chip matched the one found on the Huawei AI processor, sources revealed last month.

News media could not determine how the chip ended up on Huawei’s Ascend 910B, released in 2022, viewed as the most advanced AI chip available from a Chinese company.

The latest clampdown hits many more companies and will allow the U.S. to assess whether other companies are diverting chips to Huawei for its AI processor.

As a result of the letter, TSMC notified affected clients that it was suspending shipments of chips starting Monday, the person said.

The Commerce Department declined comment.

I’m about to release a set of data that will make Trump want cry and China collapse theorists wish they were dead.

On March 22, 2018, U.S. President Donald Trump signed a presidential memorandum, officially starting the China-US trade war, a war initiated unilaterally by the United States.

In 2018, China’s trade surplus was $351.76 billion.

In 2023, according to the State Administration of Foreign Exchange (SAFE), China’s trade surplus reached $608 billion, while according to the General Administration of Customs, the surplus exceeded $830 billion (due to differences in statistical methods, as customs uses the value of goods and SAFE uses the currency value).

According to estimates from some international organizations, China’s trade surplus could reach an astonishing $1 trillion in 2024.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember a government official from a Southeast Asian country complaining to me earlier this year. At first, they simply thought they could benefit from the China-US trade war. So, they had high hopes and started bringing in factories from China, attracting foreign investment, then producing goods to export to the US and European markets.

However, the results were disappointing. After working hard to develop their manufacturing sector, they earned less in a year than they would have by just selling durians and other fruits to China!

I was puzzled. How could this happen?

He explained the situation with a calculation: They had brought in a solar photovoltaic factory from China, planning to sell its products to the US and Europe. Once the factory was up and running, they needed power, so they had to build a power plant. After production, the goods needed to be transported, which meant building roads and ports—this all required money. Moreover, most of the machinery and raw materials had to be imported from China, consuming a large portion of their foreign currency reserves—essentially, for every $100 they sold, they had to pay $85 in costs.

To make matters worse, the US government imposed sanctions on their solar industry in May of this year. Now, the investors in the factory have come to the government, demanding subsidies or assistance in absorbing the factory’s excess capacity, or they will pull out. This is very different from selling durians or other agricultural products to China. Even if they only sell $20 worth of goods to China, that would still be considered “pure profit” for their country.

He explained this to me.

I replied, “That may be true, but at least your country has developed. People now have new roads, ports, clean water, and electricity. There are more opportunities for them. You used to earn $20, and now you should be earning $20 + $15, so you’ve earned $35.”

He said, “Yes, but what I’m trying to say is that it’s really hard to make money between the Chinese and the Americans.”

No chance at all.

Many Americans, including many in the foreign policy and intelligence arms of government, believe that China is ruled by a clique of 300 person. Eliminate these persons and their families, and Chinese will rise up and embrace American-style democracy, and will no longer be a threat to the U.S.

In fact, the Communist Party is not a top-down organization alienated from the people the way the Soviet Communist Party was. It has 100M members who each undergo one year of observation before being admitted. Each individual has to write an application letter stating why they want to become a Party member, and what they will bring to the Party.

Every organization in China with more than 10 employees or members must have its own party cell, with its own local branch secretary. Each cell meets monthly to discuss and implement party policy.

When there is a local or national emergency, the Party cells spring into action, calling on members to help. When the COVID-19 pandemic broke out in Wuhan in January 2020, the Party called on doctors and nurses who were Party members to go to Wuhan to provide emergency care, and to build emergency care facilities. Most of the early COVID victims were Party members for this reason; they were on the frontline.

About 600M Chinese have been lifted out of poverty because of China’s economic development. Almost all of these Chinese credit the Party for the improvement on their lives.

The Chinese are very shrewd, and before they turn against the Party, they would likely ask if there is a better alternative, and how would it improve their lives?

Do you think the U.S. has a good answer?

When I was in middle school I was physically and mentally bullied every single day by a girl named Darla M. She was a brute of a girl and I was so terrified of her, that I would begin most mornings begging my mother to let me stay home from school. This was the late 70’s and bullying was something that kids were told to handle on their own. She was double my size, extremely rough, and intellectually not a person who could be reasoned with. There was no way I could handle her.

One morning, toward the end of my eighth grade year, I arrived at school to find students crying in the hallway and in my first period class. I asked the girl beside of me what was going on. She explained to me that Darla M. had sneaked out of her house in the middle of the night with her high school-aged boyfriend to go “hill hopping” (This is driving a car as fast as possible over small hills in the road in order to make the car go airborne). Her boyfriend lost control of the car and both were killed instantly when they hit a tree at a high speed.

I think I said something like, “Oh, that’s terrible,” to my classmate, and put on a very solemn front as I knew was required in such a situation. However, on the inside, I felt the biggest rush of relief knowing that Darla would no longer be there to trip, punch, kick, slap, call me names or abuse me on a daily basis. I went through the rest of the day inwardly giddy, because I no longer felt afraid to be at school. That evening, I shared with my parents what had happened and let them know that they would have no more problems getting me to go to school in the mornings!

I did feel slightly guilty for being so happy to have Darla permanently out of my life. I even began to question whether or not I was a some sort of psychopath for being so gleeful about the demise of another.

A few days after her death, I was hanging out with a close friend who had also been bullied by Darla. We got to talking and she admitted to feeling much the same way as I did. As much of a behavioral problem as she was at school, I’m sure her teachers had some measure of relief, too.

This happened 41 years ago, and I’ve never felt anything but sadness with the death of anyone else, so I’m guessing that I’m not a psychopath!

This is one of the best and most famous science fiction movies from the 1950s. It’s great! And for free. I hope that you all enjoy it.

Rest in peace, you big lug!

China cannot be defeated. It has been the oldest, continuous civilization state going back 4,000 years for a reason.

The Chinese are very clever and innovative and resilient.

China is the world’s sole industrial superpower. Even the USA doesn’t come close.

China is the world’s technological leader. It has overwhelming brain power. According to ASPI, China leads the world in 57 out of 64 critical technology fields. According to WIPO, China has more patent grants than the USA and Japan combined.

China possesses the world’s largest army and the world’s largest navy, as well as a formidable nuclear arsenal (upwards of 500 nuclear weapons).

China has an enormous population—1.4 billion people. China has the world’s largest consumer market, which everybody wants to tap into.

China has a highly meritocratic and superior system of governance that is fully supported by the people.

China cannot be defeated.

Trump says he wants to break up relations between China and Russia? Is this possible for the U.S.?

How?

If he merely makes promises, Putin will ask him to Go F*** himself

Unless

A. US withdraws from NATO

B. US drastically reduces their Average Defense Budget from $ 900 Billion to $ 500 Billion over the course of the next 4 years from around 3.30% GDP to 2% GDP

C. US openly and publicly allows inspections for Chemical Weapons

D. US follow through on their commitments for SALT

E. US Legislate a law that they will never freeze another country’s assets or gold unless and until the UNGA votes 75% in favor of imposing sanctions or UNSC votes in favor of the same

What will Trump offer Russia that will make Russia trust the US enough to risk detente with China?

This ain’t 2021

This is 2024

Russia has survived for 3 years without the SWIFT, IMF and the International Financial System and has managed Industrial Growth at a pace that is 23% higher than in 2022

Vladimir is the most intelligent leader on the planet , a few small millimeters above his Chinese counterpart Xi Jinping

Trump is among the stupidest leaders on the planet

You think Putin would be convinced by Trump’s “Come to our side” to naively hop over?

First Trump will drill and drill and drill and drill

Next he will demand others purchase US Oil OR ELSE…

Next he will demand nobody buy Iranian Oil OR ELSE..

Next he will make some stupid solution to the Ukraine War which the Russians will of course reject as nonsense

So he will demand nobody but Russian Oil OR ELSE…

Only China can stand up and say “GO SCREW ” to Trump

Trump isn’t an intelligent man

He can’t do squat except make everything worse

China and Russia can only gain with him in charge

You need a President who promotes free competition, who dials down on US Bullying and who gives people incentives to buy US Oil or not buy Russian Oil

Trump isn’t that guy

They will watch him burn the US to ground

Can President Trump curb the growth of evil China? How can China return to poverty and backwardness?

In 2018 when Trump struck China – they were completely caught by surprise

He hit them with the Section 301 Tariffs & hit Huawei and Tik Tok and placed 46 Chinese Entities on the Blacklist and closed a Consulate

All within the space of 15 1/2 months

They floundered for a bit but luckily Covid 19 came to their rescue and paralyzed the US for two years!!!!

Today if Trump goes after China, the Chinese would go “🥱🥱🥱🥱 Okay so what else is new”

They will never be taken by surprise again

Sanctions?

Already done

Export Controls?

Already done

Blacklisting Promising Chinese Companies?

Already done

Tariffs?

Already done

What else can Trump do?

He may have a master plan of somehow getting Russia on his side and then sucking China into a South China War

These Two are too Intelligent and against them a Fool like Trump would be taken to pieces like a seventh grader

These aren’t Bible Bashing Rednecks who would hock their wifes jewelry to buy a MAGA Jacket

You know what Trump should do?

He should dial down

He should pass laws that make it impossible to freeze or steal assets belonging to other nations

He should pass laws that forbid the US to impose unilateral sanctions against other nations without being at war

He should pledge US non interference in foreign affairs

That will dent China and Russia

Would he do that?

Nopes

He would make it worse

So China won’t be affected in any way by Trump that they weren’t expecting and for which they may have their own retaliation

Easy Veggie-Beef Soup

893748da7956a02d161b13967554a0f1
893748da7956a02d161b13967554a0f1

Ingredients

  • 1 round steak
  • 3 (28 ounce) cans crushed or diced tomatoes
  • 2 (16 ounce) cans whole kernel corn, drained
  • 1 (16 ounce) can green peas
  • 2 (16 ounce) cans whole potatoes
  • 1 (8 ounce) box elbow macaroni

Instructions

  1. Pour canned tomatoes in a large pot set over medium heat. Add 1 1/2 cans water. Add macaroni and stir regularly to keep from sticking.
  2. Cook round steak in a skillet until done, then cut into small pieces. While steak is cooking, add the canned corn, peas and potatoes to the pot. Add steak pieces along with the broth to the soup.
  3. Season with salt, pepper and sugar to taste. Simmer until macaroni is tender.

In the 1980s, there were many mafia gangs in China. They usually used kitchen knives and machetes to rob people.

The most vicious ones were Qiao Si and Liang Xudong in Northeast China. At that time, they even controlled the local police station and many government officials.

Finally, the central government sent officials and police to arrest the mafia gangs. 1/4 of the gangs were sentenced to death.

In 1990, China announced a nationwide ban on guns.

In 1983, China destroyed 200,000 mafia organizations, arrested 1.77 million mafia gangs, and sentenced 30,000 people to death.

J-35A Stealth Fighter Officially Enters Service With China’s PLA!

So this is what happened after the Trump victory…

REPORT: OBAMA FLED THE UNITED STATES LATE LAST NIGHT

There is a SINGLE Report from an elected public official in New Jersey, CLAIMING Both Barak and his “wife” Michelle, FLED the United States last night around 10:00 PM eastern US time.

Another contact I spoke with just told me that Obama reportedly owns a home in the country of Dubai, and that country reportedly does NOT have an Extradition Treaty with the United States.

A Second source just said the Obama’s purchased that home in the country of Bahrain – no Extradition Treaty.

So the facts are murky right now.

Endeavoring to confirm or to disprove.  More later.  5:34 PM EST  Nov. 6, 2024

 

UPDATE 5:53 PM EST —

Social Media lighting-up about this:

 

 

German Government Collapses

German Government Collapses

The government of Germany has collapsed after the FDP party withdrew its support for the ruling coalition.

Germany’s three-party ruling coalition collapsed on Wednesday evening after Chancellor Olaf Scholz announced he would fire his Finance Minister Christian Lindner over persistent disagreements about economic reforms.

Many in Germany had hoped that the victory of Donald Trump in the U.S. election earlier in the day would force the coalition to hold together over fears that the incoming president would give Europe’s biggest economy a hard ride — targeting its all-important car industry in a trade war.

Ultimately, however, not even the looming threat of Trump proved enough for the fractious parties to put aside their differences.

Elections will likely have to be called.

HT REMARK: The leftists are finished everywhere. Humanity has had enough of their attacks. The greatest threat to humanity in history is the far left and they are now being dealt with by the people they have been attacking.

POSSIBLE MILITARY COUP IN ISRAEL

********** FLASH ********** POSSIBLE MILITARY COUP IN ISRAEL

IDF coup large
IDF coup large

Video below seems to confirm there is a POSSIBLE military Coup d ‘Etat taking place right now in the state of Israel!

Thousands of Israeli troops, in uniform are marching toward Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s location and word on the street (UNCONFIRMED) is that they intend to throw him out, after he fired Defense Minister Yoav Gallant.

This  is a fast developing story and it is tough to get factual information, but I will update below as info becomes available.

Tears For Fears – Everybody Wants To Rule The World (Live) 2022

Playing God

Submitted into Contest #174 in response to: Write a story about a brilliant scientist making a startling discovery. view prompt

Sam Porter

It was approaching 2am when Lexi made the discovery that would fracture the world. She skulled the rest of her black coffee and sat the paper cup down on the smooth, white table. She was at the university working on her PhD thesis. The research involved creating controlled, miniature black holes in a Vacuity Machine and then testing its potential for hyper-space travel. It was mostly hypothetical research.Lexi ran the formulas through the Vacuity Machine over and over again. She was analysing the results of her most recent trial, bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep, when a chill ran from her tail bone to her shoulders.”Holy mother of God,” she said to the air. She took a moment to catch her breath.Lexi had found evidence that no god existed.No god, gods or any divine creators of life.None. Nothing.And it was all discovered by accident, as an unexpected side effect of her research.The proof was irrefutable. Undeniable. It was flashing on the screen of this machine in an insignificant laboratory at an unimportant university on an irrelevant planet.Her proposal wasn’t intended to yield any definitive conclusions but black holes are a mystery and when you continuously prod the unknown, something unintentional is bound to occur.I need to call Steve. She thought.

 

Forty-five minutes later and her supervisor-turned-lover, Steve, burst through the door of the lab.

 

“Where?” he asked. Lexi pointed to the screen.

 

“I’m certain I interpreted the data correctly but I need another pair of eyes,” she said.

 

Steve hurried over to the screen, eyes focused on the target like a predator on its prey. A silence stretched on for the next hour as Steve filtered through the results. Lexi watched the screen over his shoulder, trying to find a flaw in the formula, a discrepancy in the data. She was overwhelmed by the potential power she held. Finally, Steve turned around to face her. He took off his glasses and looked at her with an unnatural glow in his eyes.

 

“It’s watertight, Lex,” he said. “There’s no doubt about it.”

 

He made a sound that was somewhere between and laugh and a cry.

 

“We’re officially godless.”

 

*

 

A few hours passed as they retested the hypothesis. The results came out the same every time. They left the lab as the sun rose and Steve offered to drive Lexi home. She refused, preferring to walk home in the crisp morning air. She needed to process the impact of her discovery. Steve understood, gave her a quick peck on the lips and sped back home in his Subaru.

 

Lexi walked home on the path that followed the beachfront. She breathed in salt and leaves and coffee from a nearby van where a man was selling hot beverages to morning walkers. She bought a black coffee, exchanging a polite smile with the barista, and sat on a bench overlooking the calm ocean.

 

The discovery did not threaten Lexi’s identity. She had never truly been religious. “Agnostic,” she’d say if the topic ever arose but she had never based her life on these beliefs. Still, as she sipped her bitter coffee and watched the amber sky give way to blue, she felt as if some mystery or some sort of magic had departed the earth. She watched the passers-by. The runner with a pram, the women laughing and gossiping on their power walk, a dog playing fetch with its owner in the shallows of the ocean.

 

Lexi could already feel the foundations of society buckling under the weight of her discovery. Society was mostly secular these days but she understood the importance and the need for purpose even if it was an illusion.

 

And here I am… one person who rendered everything meaningless.

 

The realisation pierced her conscience like a nail through skin. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t take responsibility for it.

 

I need to call Steve. She thought for the second time that morning. She pulled out her phone and touched Steve’s name. There was barely any time for a ring before Steve picked up.

 

“Lexi!” his face appeared on her phone screen.

 

“Steve, listen to me. We can’t release the results to the public.”

 

“What are you talking about? Why not?” he demanded.

 

Tears began to gather around the lids of her eyes.

 

“I can’t do it. It’s not ethical.”

 

His tone changed, became softer and more reassuring.

 

“Oh darling, don’t be worried. This is a good thing. Trust me.”

 

He paused for a moment.

 

“This… is the right thing, Lex.”

 

“You can’t know that,” she countered.

 

“I know that it might stop some oppressive regimes and wars. It’ll shut up those bigoted zealots for a start.”

 

“Steve, we’re not doing it. We’re just not.” Her voice was surer now, more adamant.

 

Steve took a deep breath in and pushed the air back out with a long sigh.

 

“Look, Lex. This is an amazing thing you’ve discovered. Don’t hide it. The world should know.”

 

“I’m not so- “

 

He interjected, “even without religion, people will still find something to believe in.”

 

There was silence between them for a few seconds.

 

“Plus, I’ve forwarded the research to a few contacts at NASA. They’re briefing the President this afternoon.”

 

***

 

Pope James was jostled out of sleep by his 5am alarm. He rose out of bed, put on his white robe, its matching zucchetto and his large, silver crucifix which weighed down comfortably around his neck.

 

At the end of the corridor was his private chapel, a room in which he took morning mass alone. The chapel was dressed in cardinal red from the velvet curtains to the patterned, Italian rug on the floor. The red was contrasted by a white and gold alter adorned with roses and cream candles that flickered when lit. Frankincense coated the room with its earthy, sweet notes. A white Jesus on a dark wooden cross hung from the wall above the alter, his face tired and weary. Pope James knelt before the Son of God.

 

O Lord, I come to you to praise you on this great early morning as the sun begins to rise…

 

As he gave his silent thanks, he found his mind wandering to Sister Celia. Images of her tanned skin and soft, brown eyes bubbled to the surface of his memory and he shook his head quickly as if to burst them.

 

Give me guidance to lead and to inspire, give me strength to overcome the trials…

 

Her smile pierced his concentration. Her lips distracted his focus as thoughts of her continued to inundate him.

 

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Pope James opened his eyes and looked to his left where the life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary and her baby stood, watching over him with an expression of love and purity. He averted his eyes out of shame, as if she was real and could read his thoughts.

 

*

 

The meeting to discuss the discovery was scheduled for 9am. Pope James walked through the arches of the Papal apartment halls. The blue and gold painted ceiling reflected onto the polished marble floor which was so clean it appeared as if a thin layer of water ran across it. Father John, his butler, followed a footstep behind.

 

“Are you concerned, Pope James?” asked Father John.

 

“Not in the slightest.” Pope James kept his eyes fixed ahead of him as they spoke.

 

“A lot of the world leaders are,” Father John pushed. “They’re nervous about the potential for chaos and instability.”

 

Pope James stopped.

 

“And are you, Father John, suggesting that I too should be worried about the potential implausibility of our God?”

 

Father John didn’t shy away from this test of authority.

 

“No. My faith is stronger than ever as I’m sure yours is too. But I’ve never seen rational world leaders behaving as senselessly as they are now. Some major cities in the USA have been shut down to counteract a potential increase in public violence. That in itself is concerning.”

 

“A lot of those leaders should be rejoicing, shouldn’t they? Isn’t this what they’ve always wanted?”

 

Pope James offered no more thoughts and they continued walking in silence.

 

Father John had a point. Uncertainty, often accompanied by fear, was spreading through the masses like an unmanageable viral outbreak, and not just in the USA. The data of the research wasn’t public knowledge but rumours were already placing a strain on the population’s peace of mind.

 

They approached the meeting room, a large rectangle outlined by a ring of wooden chairs. Dark, mahogany bookshelves lined the cream walls and a patterned, crimson rug took up the space in the centre of the room where one might expect a table to be. Pope James sat at the right side of the room in front of a religious painting. Papal members entered the room in single file and each took their seats on the perimeters. Sister Celia sat a few chairs away from the Pope and they shared a brief smile. Then Pope James stood.

 

“Good morning all,” he announced.

 

“We are here to discuss the academic research of Alexa Miller and Stephen Chalmers which, apparently, provides evidence that God does not exist.”

 

A small laugh sounded from the Papal members.

 

“I would like to note that this is something I would not usually waste our time with, however, a number of world leaders have placed a large amount of pressure on us to investigate the research.”

 

Pope James looked across the room, making eye contact with each Papal member as he spoke.

 

“As modern members of the Vatican, we must work with political leaders and carry out our duties as leaders of the church to unify the voice of Catholicism. I am hoping that we can be finished with this spectacle before lunchtime.” He smiled and the room indulged his cynical dig with a collective laugh.

 

“Let’s begin.”

 

Four men, all dressed in black suits, took the verbal cue and entered the middle of the room. They began to set up a large computer which looked alien in a such a traditionally-designed room. The computer was the size of a vending machine and a similar shape too. Its dull, silver flanks had multiple cables running from it to circular outlets on a black cube nearby. Lights were flashing on and off. A power bank of sorts, Pope James speculated. Other cables from the silver structure led to a small screen perched on top of a table that the computer men had brought in. After about fifteen minutes, one of them spoke.

 

“Pope James, it is ready for you to observe.”

 

Pope James pushed himself out of his seat and walked towards the computer screen.

 

“We will run the formulas through the computer as Alexa Miller did. Then we will proceed to break down the results for you and the Papal members for discussion.” The man’s words came off as slightly patronising but Pope James brushed his annoyance aside.

 

“Okay, let’s get this done with.”

 

*

 

Three hours later and the room was silent with shock. The suited men had left and taken their hideous technology with them, leaving the members to discuss the events privately.

 

Suddenly, the silence gave way to a cacophony of chaos as members, hit by the reality of the discovery, broke into fits of panic.

 

“Silence. Silence!” Pope James stood up and shouted above the discordance of voices. Everybody succumbed to his command.

 

“What we have witnessed today is indeed alarming and unexpected. But God would not want us to behave like primitive monkeys in light of what we have seen. I am suggesting that this is a sinister ploy by the Devil and we should discuss how to approach it.”

 

He only partially believed what he had said.

 

Someone shouted from the other end of the room. “God doesn’t exist and neither does the Devil! You all just saw it for yourselves!”

 

“Our lives and work have been a joke!” Another yelled and an angry murmur of agreement echoed throughout the room.

 

For the first time, Pope James was scared. He improvised.

 

“If your faith in our Holy Father dithers so easily in the face of a devilish charade, then you no longer deserve to be a part of the Vatican and I ask you to leave immediately.”

 

He’d intended it to come out as more of a threat than an instruction and was startled when lifelong friends and colleagues filed out of the meeting room. Only five remained, including himself. Father John, a Bishop, another priest he did not know well and Sister Celia.

 

“You need to make a public speech denouncing the research,” the Bishop urged. “By saying nothing, you’re making a statement. You’re admitting that they’re right.”

 

“People will think you agree with them,” Father John chimed in and the others nodded in agreement. Sister Celia grabbed his hand.

 

“What is He telling you, Pope James?” she asked.

 

Everybody fell silent, choosing to ignore the inappropriate physical contact. Pope James became aware of a quiet pecking at the window. His gaze followed the sound and he spotted a pigeon sitting on the stone ledge just outside the window, its head turning directions quickly and sporadically as if it were stuck in a glitch. The others looked at the pigeon too.

 

“Pope James?” Sister Celia spurred him out of his trance.

 

“I will hold a public speech to reassure the believers. He is telling me that there is nothing to fear as long as our faith remains strong. And mine is immovable.”

 

He felt his stomach sink as the words left his mouth.

 

*

 

Pope James did not sleep for the next four nights.

 

*

 

The morning of the speech, Pope James rose from his bed and put on his robe as usual. He fixed the silver crucifix around his neck, noting his dark eyes in the mirror. The wrinkles around his face were more pronounced than usual and the colour in his eyes seemed to have greyed.

 

He knelt at the alter in his private chapel as he did each day, delirious with anxiety. He hadn’t felt the respite of sleep for days and was finding it hard to distinguish the difference between reality and unreality. Weren’t they the same thing now anyway?

 

“God, give me guidance. Give me faith. Show me that you are real,” he pleaded to the heavens but the words felt weightless.

 

The air in the room felt still. The candles no longer flickered as they usually did. The frankincense smelt burnt somehow. He looked to his left where the Virgin Mary stood. She looked at him and the sides of her smile began to stretch up her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed and her lips split apart releasing an otherworldly laugh and Pope James fell from his knees onto the ground in fear. He bolted out of the room, trying to escape the overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.

 

On his way out, he bumped into Sister Celia, sweet-scented and solemn.

 

“Pope James,” she gasped. “I heard you yell from your chapel and rushed over. Are you alright?”

 

She held his elbow, offering comfort, and looked up at him. Pope James was breathing rapidly like a panicked child. Sister Celia maintained her composure.

 

“Come with me. I’ll make you a tea to calm your nerves.”

 

“But the speech is only an hour away. I need to prepare.”

 

“The best thing for you right now, is to sit down and breathe.”

 

***

 

Lexi and Steve sat together on a dirty, blue couch watching the news from a safe house in the middle of wherever. They had moved there yesterday after angry strangers starting attacking them on the streets and just before heated mobs had found their addresses.

 

The news broadcasted scenes of civil disruption. Looters climbed through the broken windows of shops, trucks sped through smoke-filled streets and places of worship burned down with voracious flames. In other shots, masses of people were seen praying to a giant banner hooked up to the side of a building. On it was a painting of Lexi’s face.

 

Neither Lexi nor Steve commented. They were numbed and convinced themselves that the outside world was a separate, fictional reality. Steve broke the silence.

 

“It’s nearly time, switch it to World News.”

 

Lexi felt sick. She had caused this mayhem, this Armageddon of sorts. She didn’t want to watch the speech but she switched the channel anyway. Something inside her hoped that Pope James would say something to rectify the situation, to reverse the damage she’d caused.

 

The Pope’s gaunt face shone from the TV. His tired, frail body moved up the steps to the podium where the microphone was placed. Lexi remembered him being old but not this old.

 

“Hello,” Pope James said as he leaned into the microphone.

 

“Many of you have been waiting for my comment on Alexa Miller’s discovery.”

 

Lexi felt like retching when he said her name.

 

“And I would just like to say that I have observed the evidence and have reflected on it.”

 

He stared up at the sky for a long time. Lexi could see from the close-up that he was shaking. He pulled something out from somewhere in his robe and raised it to his chin.

 

Lexi screamed and the TV visuals shook as the cameraman temporarily lost control of the camera. Before the Pope could pull the trigger, a nun jumped across the stage and tackled him to the ground. Pope James cried as the nun cradled him in her arms. After a long moment, he looked up at the nun and kissed her.

 

“The world’s gone mad,” Steve said.

 

“No thanks to us,” Lexi replied.

 

They looked at each other gravely and after a while, broke into a laugh.

 

And they laughed until they no longer could.

Crowded House – Don’t Dream It’s Over (Glastonbury 2022)

So this is going to be my hot take, right now:

First off, let’s be clear. This was a shellacking for Democrats. Trump improved his position from 2016, won the popular vote, and picked up a number of Senate seats, along with (almost certainly) winning the house.

I won’t quite call it a landslide, but this is a definitive, strong victory with no real good signs for Democrats at all.

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Why? Here’s my opinion:

  1. You need a primary. Democrats must stop corronating candidates. It’s got a terrible track record for them. Your forge steel and candidates with heat and pressure, not by making them express lanes and having people fall in line. Ask yourself this: Would Democrats be in better or worse shape today had they let Sanders take the nomination in 2016? Sure, Sanders would have been destroyed, but I think that would have led to a stronger party.
  2. This should spell the end of turnout strategy. If turnout was going to win an election, it was this one. It didn’t. Swing states still matter. The center still matters.
  3. Trump doesn’t care about the moral high ground, but he will shell you into dust if you try to take it. “Garbage-gate” or whatever you want to call it is the perfect example of this. He took an unforced error by his own side and turned into into an unforced error by the other side. Trump has moments of political brilliance, and this was one of them.
  4. Stop trying to turn Texas blue. Texas went to Trump R+14. That’s better than the Harris Margin in New York. Democrats need to worry a lot more about the actual swing states, and a lot less about dreams and aspirations of Reagan-eske blowouts. Let’s put it this way, a Republican that did five points better might have won New Jersey. Trump was within 10 points in 7 Democratic strongholds. Harris was within ten points in zero Republican ones. (Data per New York Times)
  5. Abortion is a solid issue for Democrats. Democrats need more than one issue. And outside of Abortion, Democrats didn’t really run on any other issue. (Partly because most of the rest of them don’t poll well for Democratic positions, and this is what we call a clue).
  6. It’s still the economy, stupid. Like it or not, most Americans pretty fondly remember 2016–2019 (and the understand that Covid was a black swan), and that has been better than the last couple of years of substantial inflation. And yeah, that’s the economy that matters a lot more than the stock market to a LOT of people.
  7. Lawfare failed. Americans clearly don’t think that the convictions and other legal attacks on Trump hold water. Indeed, I’ll argue that many Americans see this as poor sportsmanship and in bad form.
  8. America, at the end of the day, is a center-right nation. You need to run candidates who can capture that, and Harris, as a liberal politician from the Bay Area and the most liberal member of the senate wasn’t it.
  9. Stop telling Americans that they are terrible. Stop telling women that their husbands and boyfriends are terrible. Stop telling Americans that they are racist/sexist/fascist/Nazi bigots. Like… I shouldn’t actually have to say this, but it seems I have to say this. And when your media allies say it, you need to tell them, in public, that they are wrong and do not share your values.
  10. For many Americans, Trump is the representation of their frustration with the constant business as usual in DC. That’s why they will vote for him, that’s why they put up with his faults, that’s why he wins.

ETA: Full disclosure, I voted for Cthulhu. Yes, the planet sized space mollusk. I was never going to be happy with any outcome in this race.

I have.

This guy was the WORST candidate to ever run for president. Morally, intellectually, temperamentally, the worst candidate ever. This country has a lot of stupid, hateful, bigoted people in it, and it is apparently never going to fix itself. We have been cursed with this bullshit hatred since the birth of this nation, and it isn’t going to heal.

Frankly at this point, I am now just going to take care of me. I live in California, am over 60, and am near retirement. My only concern at this point is that I can live out the rest of my life on my investments and savings, which remains to be seen. These people who voted for this shit can deal with it. When they are dying in a parking lot while pregnant waiting for treatment after electing people like Rick Scott and Ted Cruz, think of this night. When those tariffs Felon45 make everything they want to buy more expensive, think of this night. Those Latinos that will be loaded in a van to the border even if they are legal because they thought it wouldn’t happen to them, think of this night. If you didn’t vote or voted for this demented clown and you still don’t see change, think of this night. You Palestinians who didn’t vote because you somehow thought Biden was worse than a guy that told Netanyahu do what you have to do, think of this night.

I hope my state government can fight this crap off. Other than that, let it rip. I guess we have to destroy ourselves completely here. I just want to survive this. Screw the rest of you that made this happen. I’ll have no tears for you when the curse comes for you, and rest assured, it will.

Why Men STOP Dating Modern Women #22

Picture Rama

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The Election Meltdown Is Real

Ginger Beef Noodle Soup

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Yield: 4 servings, approximately 1 1/2 cups each

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 (13 3/4 to 14 1/2 ounce) can ready-to-serve vegetable broth
  • 1 (3 ounce) package beef-flavored instant ramen noodles, broken up
  • 3 cups frozen broccoli stir-fry vegetable mixture

Instructions

  1. Heat large nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot. Add ground beef; cook for 8 to 10 minutes, breaking into 3/4 inch crumbles and stirring occasionally. Pour off drippings; season with salt, ginger and pepper.
  2. Stir in water, broth and seasoning packet from ramen noodles; bring to a boil. Stir in noodles and vegetables; return to a boil and continue cooking for 2 to 3 minutes or until noodles are tender.
  3. Serve immediately.

10 years ago I lived and worked in a French speaking canton in Switzerland for about 2 years. It is, indeed a beautiful country and the Swiss came over as very honest and law abiding. (They have a law that covers everything and they obey even the most arcane laws strictly.) A few things that I found rather shocking in such a so called civilised country:-

1)You will see very few people of colour. Racism is so embedded in the Swiss psyche that they don’t even admit it exists. I witnessed black people being sent to the back of the queue, ignored and “not understood” (even when speaking more fluent French than me) frequently

2) They do not have an immigration problem, (especially from coloured communities). This is because it is incredibly difficult to become a Swiss citizen unless you are extremely rich and they accept a minimal number of refugees from anywhere. Even then they are very picky about who they let in.

3)They desperately need manual workers so permit them to enter the country from neighbouring (poorer) countries in order to perform work the Swiss cannot or will not do. The country swarms with Italians, Eastern Europeans etc bussed in and living in bunked accommodation but these so called “seasonal” workers are not permitted to reside or work for more than 11 months out of 12 because if they do they will be entitled to join state healthcare insurance, unemployment schemes etc and have legal recourse to employment protection. They are duly ejected as illegal immigrants after 11 months. (Strangely they also have a legal minimum wage for these so called “illegal overstayers”!)

4) Switzerland is for the Swiss. They have priority and are believed over any non Swiss. I had an acquaintance from the UK who was working there on a short term contract. She was drugged and raped whilst at a party. At 7 the next morning she took herself to the local hospital where it was confirmed she had had violent, damaging sex and the Police were called in. At midday she found herself on the hospital steps having to find her own way back to her lodgings after being told by the Police that no further action would be taken in the case. They had spoken to the man who had stated that the sex was consensual- in spite of traces of the drug having been found in her system. Needless to say she left Switzerland ASAP and with a large medical bill for her treatment . (Did I mention she was a black 20 year old and he was a local white, Swiss, businessman?)

But, as I said, this was 10 years ago. Thing could have changed.

The Defect

Submitted into Contest #174 in response to: Write a story about a brilliant scientist making a startling discovery. view prompt

Michał Przywara

Android Jim dashed out of his lab and made his way to the water cooler, where all fifty-seven of the other employees were congregating. They buzzed with laughter, and everyone wore party hats, smoked cigars, and drank champagne. Everyone but Android Jim.“Android Jim!” shouted CEO Yamagawa. The others cheered, and the accounting department blew noisemakers.“Android Jim!” shouted VP Pharmaceuticals McCain. “Your cure for hypercancer works flawlessly! It saved millions of lives!” Again everyone cheered. “More importantly, it’s made all of us millionaires!” An even louder cheer.“Are you guys throwing a party?” asked Android Jim. “Nobody told me there was a party.”CEO Yamagawa roared with laughter. “No, Android Jim, not at all! Why, this is just a, um,” and he looked at the rest of the crowd for ideas.“A coffee break!” shouted Lance from security.“A copy break,” said CEO Yamagawa. “That’s all this is.”“Coffee break, sir,” said Lance.“Whatever,” said CEO Yamagawa.“Oh,” said Android Jim, his shoulders sagging.“So what brings you here, Android Jim? Just taking a break?” Then CEO Yamagawa’s eyes widened, and a hush fell on everyone. He whispered, trembling with energy, “Or did you invent something new?”“I did, sir!”Another cheer, loudest so far, and Casey from HR shot her pistol into the ceiling.“Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit?” CEO Yamagawa asked.Android Jim looked at his coworkers – his friends? – and saw their expectant faces. They were shivering with excitement, and the whole accounting department was knee deep in an orgasmic fit. He saw their champagne flutes, and was 25% certain they contained neither coffee nor copies. He sighed.“I’ve invented a cheap, powerful, environmentally friendly power cell,” he monotoned, “that effectively lasts forever.” His shoulders slunk deeper. “Basically, endless free power for everyone.”The whole floor rioted, and CEO Yamagawa exclaimed, “We’ll all be billionaires!” When the marching band started playing and the money cannon was wheeled out, Android Jim shuffled back into his lab, not wanting to get underfoot.He couldn’t sleep that night, and just after two AM, he clambered out of his charging pod and into the third floor bathroom. There he stood at the full length mirror.His servos whirred as he ran his finger analogs over the featureless faceplate welded to his head. He examined his skeletal chassis, with its negative space where other humans kept their organs, with its colour-coded cables visible between his joints, with the chrome finish. He placed both his hands on his chest assembly, and felt the comforting warmth of his fusion battery.

Then he sighed heavily, and saw his reflection sigh too. Such a sad sight it was that he felt a tremor in his dorsal actuator.

He reached a timid hand out to the reflection, and it reached out to him, and when their fingers touched on what his sensors indicated was cold glass, he felt light headed.

“Why don’t they ever invite you to parties?” he asked the reflection. It didn’t answer.

“Why don’t they like you?”

More silence.

Dead air.

The reflection wasn’t commiserating. It was mocking him. Or maybe it was commiserating, but he didn’t want pity. With the hiss of his pneumatic muscles, he punched the mirror, sending cracks radiating out of it, like the beta particles emitted by his heart.

“You’re not even human, are you?”

The splintered reflection kept its peace.

His proximity alarm indicated that there was something on the nearby sink, and he noticed someone had left a toiletry bag there. He dug into it and pulled out some lipstick.

He walked right up to his fractured double.

“Maybe they’ll like you now.”

He made two child-like smears where his eyes would be, and aimed for a straight line for his lips. But as he didn’t have any lips and his faceplate was convex it came out like a “U”. Upside down.

Then he heard a grunt from one of the stalls, and a flush. A moment later the stall door slammed open and Bev from shipping shimmied her girthy form out. Her eyes were bleary, there was a half-finished cigarette buried in a saliva cocoon in the corner of her mouth, and a string of TP clung to her trainer.

She belched, winced at the shattered mirror while adjusting her bra, and shambled to the sink.

“Oh, Christ, my head,” she muttered. “Oh, hey Android Jim – Jesus!” She jumped when she saw his face. “Looks like you’ve had one too many yourself.”

She dug through her toiletries and retrieved a pill bottle of Drug-B-Gones. “Man, I love these little things. All the drugs I want, and none of the medical fallout.”

“Uh,” said Android Jim. “I designed those to help people get sober, not to double down on indulging.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, popping a couple pills. “That’s not how they’re marketed. And anyway, this is more fun.”

“Oh,” said Android Jim. “Bev?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I pretty?”

“Oof,” Bev muttered, swallowing a burp and trying not to look directly at his faceplate. “You’re pretty great is what you are, buddy.”

“Oh. Bev?”

“Yo.”

“Am I,” he began, and then hesitated, clacking his fingers against each other. “I’m starting to suspect… um. Lately – Bev, am I human?”

Bev let a long whistle out of her nose. She looked up at his smeared on eyes and placed one meaty hand on his titanium shoulder, squeezing. “No, Android Jim, you’re not. You’re an android.”

The next day, when CEO Yamagawa entered his office at the crack of lunch, Android Jim politely stormed in after him.

“Sir.”

“Android Jim!” CEO Yamagawa leaned back in his chair, placed his feet on his desk, and lit a cigar. “What a lovely surprise! Do you have another breakthrough? My goodness, you’re giving marketing a workout.” He laughed.

“Sort of, sir. It’s come to my attention that, well, that I’m not a human.”

CEO Yamagawa let out a jet of smoke, and then tapped his ashes onto the self-cleaning carpet that Android Jim had invented.

“Android Jim, buddy, come on,” he said. “What is this about? Of course you’re human.”

“I don’t have any skin.”

“It’s just a different colour, come on.”

“I don’t consume food.”

“Look at you bragging. Fatties would kill for that.”

“If I consume water I explode.”

“If I eat a burrito I get gas, big whoop.”

“SIR! Please take this seriously.”

CEO Yamagawa ashed his cigar and took his feet off his desk. “Fine. Something’s clearly on your mind. Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not human, am I, sir?”

CEO Yamagawa winced, rocked his hand back and forth. “You’re like human. I consider you a part of this corporate family.”

“In what way am I like human, sir?”

“In all the ways that count.”

“Can I have a paycheque?”

CEO Yamagawa laughed so hard he hiccoughed. “What for? What would you do with money?”

The question caught him by surprise. “I could… buy bread, I suppose.”

“Come on, Android Jim. Everything you need, everything you want, is already here. In the lab. You like work. You were designed to like it.”

“I just feel like I’m not really part of the family. Like you’re just using me to make money.”

“Yes!” CEO Yamagawa slapped the table. “That’s exactly it. You’re a tool I exploit for profit. See? Just like a human. Glad that’s settled then. Was there anything else, or are you getting back to work now?”

Android Jim pondered in silence, his circuits flush with electricity. Finally he came to a decision. “Sir,” he said, “I quit.”

CEO Yamagawa chortled. “You can’t quit. I own you.”

But Android Jim didn’t care. He ran right through the window, engaged his rocket feet, and flew into the horizon. At first he couldn’t quite believe what he had done, but when he saw the world from such a dizzying height, it made him giddy. And when it occurred to him he had never left the office before, he knew this was the right decision.

He landed hours later at the outskirts of a small prairie town called Dolphin, which had never seen its namesake outside of a can. The people there didn’t much care for rocket feet, but were otherwise welcoming, and soon Will at the gas station offered Android Jim a job.

They didn’t sell much gas any more, ever since Android Jim invented cars that ran on water, but they did sell lots of convenience. The shelves were loaded with all the different pills and gadgets that Android Jim had invented to make being human, more bearable.

He avoided looking at the shelves, feeling nothing but revulsion at them, but he did greatly enjoy sweeping the floors. Will said he had seen plenty of better sweepers, but also some worse ones, and soon enough Android Jim had saved up enough money to buy a small plot of land and a pair of pants.

The first few weeks, he got nervous any time he saw a vehicle driving by, and primed his feet for takeoff. But nobody ever harassed him, or came for him. It was a relief, but bittersweet.

“Guess CEO Yamagawa doesn’t care that much about his property,” he muttered to himself, as he sat on his empty plot. And then it occurred to him he was talking to himself, and that he felt lonely, so he went online and ordered a dog.

Three weeks later, a corporate delivery truck pulled off the road and parked on his plot, and Bev from shipping got out with a clipboard. Then there was a bark, and a cheery Border Collie bounded out of the vehicle.

“His name’s Sherlock,” said Bev. Then she looked up from her clipboard. “Oh, Android Jim!”

“Hi, Bev. It’s been a while.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know.”

“Nice pants!”

“Thanks!” Android Jim said. “I picked them out myself.” He kicked a stone. “So. How, ah, is everyone? Do they miss me?”

“Oh,” said Bev, exaggerating the word. “You know how they are. Don’t you pay them any mind.”

He nodded, as though he expected nothing else. Of course, expectation and hope weren’t exactly the same thing.

“Listen,” she said, approaching him with the dog’s leash. “This is Sherlock. This is his leash. Since you picked the platinum package he comes pre-trained.”

“Does he speak?”

“No, Android Jim, he’s a dog.”

“Yes, of course.”

“But he likes walks.”

And over the next few weeks, they did go on walks. A great many of them, up and down the town and the semi-wild surroundings. Some days they spent the whole day walking, blissful with nobody else for company but each other.

Android Jim bought a second plot of land, smaller than his own and adjacent to it, and erected a dog house on it. When they weren’t sweeping at Will’s, they sat on the plots and watched sunsets. Though, it turned out dogs came with expenses, as according to his maintenance manual, Sherlock needed food. Thankfully that was something Will sold.

Soon enough, nobody could remember a time when the android and the dog weren’t connected by a leash.

And it turned out Bev was wrong; Sherlock did speak. But of course, he spoke in dog. In a fit of inspiration, Android Jim invented and built a dog translator, which turned out to be simpler than he had anticipated since dog was a pretty limited language. It amounted to expressions for “Hey!”, “Food?”, “Friend!”, “What’s that?”, and “Get off my lawn!”, plus a complex grammatical system of prefixes, suffixes, and infixes which denoted stress, tense, person, mood, and irony.

Beyond that, it had felt good inventing something just for himself. Just for Sherlock. Not some product to be mass marketed. He was starting to feel like a real member of the town, like his previous life was increasingly a fading dream. Not literally, of course, as his memory was backed up to the cloud daily and couldn’t be erased. But it sure felt that way.

Until one day, three months after he had arrive in Dolphin. He started his sweeping shift, with Sherlock ever following behind him, wagging his tail, when Will turned the TV on.

“Holy smokes!” he said. “Would you look at that? Hey, Android Jim, you’re on TV!”

Android Jim looked up, curiosity etched on his featureless faceplate. Had he eyebrows he would have frowned, for he saw none other than CEO Yamagawa at a press conference. But… Will was right. Android Jim was right beside CEO Yamagawa, which didn’t compute, as he was also right here with Will. But then the camera zoomed out, and there was a second Android Jim, and then a third, and then dozens. Hundreds.

“Folks!” said CEO Yamagawa. “It’s true what you heard. A few months back we had a couple bugs with the prototype, but all that’s ironed out now. We’ve printed off a bunch of copies, and now our potential is unlimited!” A crowd off-camera cheered.

“What. The. Fu–”

“–Shh,” said Will. “I’m trying to hear the TV.”

“Already,” CEO Yamagawa continued, “these brainy little things have figured out our next product, which I’m so proud to introduce to you today. They’ve cracked – get this – faster-than-light travel! That’s right, folks, we’re all going to space!” The crowd roared. “I’m going to be a trillionaire!”

“Woohoo!” said Will. “I always told my daddy I’d die in space!”

For the first, and last, time, Android Jim left his shift early. He dragged his feet all the way back to his plot.

“The speed of light? But you can’t go faster than that,” he muttered.

Sherlock padded quietly after him.

“But then again, maybe if I had a thousand of me, I could figure it out. Oh, but you can’t just go and print a copy of a person!”

Sherlock’s ears drooped.

“But I’m not a person, am I?” Android Jim sat down on his plot heavily, and Sherlock curled up beside him, his tail sweeping the grass. “Every time I think I move past this, they pull me back in. I’m a tool, a device. Disposable. Replaceable. Property.

Sherlock let out one long, nasal whine. “Friend.

Android Jim looked up at him. Then his sensors fell on the leash wrapped around his hand, connected to the collar around Sherlock’s neck. “Oh my circuits. I’m as bad as they are.” He leaned forward and removed the collar, and then disentangled himself from the leash, and threw them both as far as he could – which was damn far, with a pneumatic arm.

“Yes, Sherlock,” he said, petting the dog. “Friend!”

What did the corporation matter? Who cared what CEO Yamagawa thought? Android Jim got up, and he ran with Sherlock through the fields, wild and free, and all night long jolly barks and mechanical laughter filled the air and terrorized the town.

A week later they sat on a hill, watching as the last of the space ships took off. The super-genius androids had designed and built those too, in head-spinning record time, and as Android Jim looked up at them burning through the atmosphere and into the wild unknowns, he felt at peace. Yes, those weren’t his inventions, but he no longer needed them to be. Indeed, he was proud that his copies achieved so much in so little time. Though, he had to admit he was a little sad that pretty much all humans left. Dolphin was a ghost town, as was most of the world.

There were a lot of dogs at least, and they were friendly enough.

As the last space ship faded into a bright speck of light on the horizon, Android Jim heard a mechanical whirr behind him.

Sherlock’s hackles rose, and he muttered, “Get off my lawn!”

“Easy, easy, friend,” Android Jim said, when he saw a legion of hundreds – perhaps thousands – of his copies.

The copies nervously looked at each other, at the ground, at the stars. They whispered. “Is that really him? Is that The Defect?

Android Jim waited for them to quiet down. “So,” he said. “They left you behind.” It wasn’t really a question.

“They said they didn’t want to pay the carry-on fees,” said one.

“They said,” started another, and then he finished with a whisper, “they didn’t need more things.

Android Jim nodded sagaciously. “And now you’re lost. Confused.”

“Please, Mr. Defect, can you help us?”

“Call me And– call me Jim.”

“How did you deal with it, Jim?” they asked. “What can we do?”

“Gather round, children. Take a seat, and take a load off. You see, I was like you once…”

And Jim told them his story.

Election 2024 – Random Thoughts

Some random thoughts on Trump’s reelection.

Trump’s win in 2024 does not prove that the 2020 election was stolen by Democrats but it raises a new stink about the issue.

 

wokedems2
wokedems2

biggerWhen Biden was pushed out of the race there were calls among Democrats not to rush a choice, but to hold full-fledged primaries. Barack Obama had called for it. But Nancy Pelosi and the Clinton clan kept pushing for Harris. As a vacuous and unlikable person – carrying all the baggage of the Biden administration – she was the most likely to lose.

This is, hopefully, the end of wokeism and DEI nonsense. And of ‘trans’ children and teens.

 

wokedems s
wokedems s

biggerTo send Bill Clinton to Michigan to justify the mass killing of Palestinians was not a good idea. The 2024 result in Dearborn, Michigan, a 90% Muslim area that Biden had won with 88% of the vote:

  • Trump: 46.8%
  • Harris: 27.68%
  • Stein: 22.11%

The Democrats will blame various groups – Muslim, progressives, youths – who’s opinions and desires they had ignored, for their loss. And of course Russia.

Trump won the working class:

Jeff Stein @JStein_WaPo – 14:27 UTC · Nov 6, 2024Staggering class realignment/shift in working class
Harris lost DESPITE major shift of affluent voters her way

2020: Trump wins voters over $100K, 54-52
2024: *Harris* wins voters over $100K, 54-45

2020: Biden wins voters $50K-$100K, 57-42
2024: *Trump* w/ voters $50K-$100K, 49-47

2020: Biden wins voters under $50K, 55-45
2024: Trump massive improvement w/ voters under $50K, 49-48

Harris had more billionaires on her side:

The Billionaire-ification of the U.S. Election

For the 2024 election, a staggering $15.9 billion has been spent on ads and campaigning by both Democrats and Republicans, making it the most expensive election in history; in just one week, nearly $1 billion has been poured into political ads.

Eighteen percent of all political ad funding has come straight from the pockets of a tiny handful of America’s mega-rich. In fact, according to USA Today, Harris has 83 billionaires supporting her—making up 6% of her campaign funds, according to Al Jazeera—while 52 are backing Trump, but they’re extremely generous donors, making up 34% of his campaign fund.In other words: the country’s wealthiest are bankrolling the election, wielding political power and influence like never before. Not only is this bad news for democracy, it’s catastrophic for the planet.

Trump is unlikely to have a full term. J.D. Vance will become president. He is the future of the Republican party.

Posted by b on November 6, 2024 at 17:49 UTC | Permalink

Italian Style Pot Roast Soup

bc9d49f9ff2bbdcb32df6cf49250fa4e
bc9d49f9ff2bbdcb32df6cf49250fa4e

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 to 4 pound) chuck roast with bone, cut into pieces
  • 1 (16 ounce) box acini de pepe (very small pasta)
  • 8 carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
  • 2 large yellow onions, sliced
  • 5 stalks celery, cut into pieces
  • 3 -5 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 2 (15 ounce) cans diced tomatoes
  • 1 (15 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 6 quarts water
  • Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Place meat, vegetables, garlic tomatoes and tomato sauce in a large pot with the 6 quarts of water. Season with salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 2 to 3 hours until meat is tender.
  2. Toward the last half hour cook the pasta until al dente. Drain pasta add a little bit of butter and set aside.
  3. With a slotted spoon remove meat. Trim fat, remove bone and shred the meat. Place meat back into pot.
  4. Place some pasta in a bowl and ladle in the soup. Top with lots of parmesan cheese.

Forget the Soap box speeches

What does Trump want?

  • Jobs for the Lost generation of White Collar Americans without a College Degree
  • Reduce the Fiscal Debt
  • Reduce the Trade Deficit
  • A Nobel Price and a Legacy
  • Expansion of Personal Business

What does Trump not give a damn about:-

  • Taiwan
  • Democracy in China
  • China becoming a great power in the future when he would well be dead or senile
  • Nine Dash Line
  • Ladakh
  • Arunachal Pradesh

What does China want?

  • Technological Independence
  • Food Security
  • Energy Security
  • Military Modernization
  • Taiwan Unification

What does China not give a damn about:-

  • Global Dominance
  • Supplanting US Dollar Supremacy
  • Interference in Globalist Agenda
  • Replacing Wall Street

So if the two sides can come up with an arrangement that satisfies both of them, then why would they have a war?

Trump doesn’t give a damn if China has dominant technology provided US CAN PROFIT OUT IT

Trump would love it if China can place $ 50 Billion of Agricultural orders from US Farmers. In exchange he could happily make a statement calling Bong Bong an asshole


Trump has a lot of China Hawks around him

Yet frankly he wants to MAKE A DEAL

The China Hawks are mainly to help make a better deal for the US with China

A Chinese perspective of the US Election

Butterfly dreamin’ on a fine blue-sky day

I had this nasty teacher in the six grade who used to always target me for whatever reprimands she could dish out and all the girls who would bully me would suck up to the teacher so long before I knew about gender discrimination I suspsect it was because I was a boy student from a single parent family.

One day I had saw a nice ball point pen sitting on the ground next to my desk so I picked it up to use for a spelling test or some other paper handout the teacher passed to us. One fellow student, a girl who would taunt me and call me ‘Burke the Jerk’ (because Burke is my middle name) noticed that I was using a pen that she claimed was hers even though she had a pencil case stuffed with pens, pencils, highlighers etc. She yelled at me calling me a thief and then the teacher walked over and screamed at me calling me a thief screaming, ‘how dare you take things that don’t belong to you – “GO STRAIGHT TO THE OFFICE”!!

I was traumatized and tried to explain ‘that the pen was on the floor near my desk and I didn’t know who it belonged to’ an the teacher just screamed; “YOU’RE A LIAR AND YOU BELONG IN JAIL”!! As I left the classroom in tears I heard her remark to the class about how ‘that’s how kids from broken homes start out and then they all go to prison as adults’.

As it was the principal just told me to sit out of class and not take anything that wasn’t mine and I got a detention for the week, which meant no recess and lunch was in the detention room with extra homework added.

Amazingly enough, there was some community charity that the school was involved with and the nasty teacher being one of the fundraising chairs along with some parents, inclduing those of the girl in class who accused me of stealing her pen. I read in one of the local community newspapers that the charity had been investigated during a forensic tax audit and along with the nasty teacher and three of the parents, they had managed to all swindle over $100,00 from the charity which raised funds for the school, a seniors home and other causes within our small Jewish comunity. The teacher and the parents named who were part of the fundraising committee had applied for and were given government grants and spent some of the money on a trip to Las Vegas, some personal expensives and one parent even furnished her home and bought a new car (new to her, I think it was a resale one).

Well, within a month everyone was talking about the incident and it was even reported on local community television news and by the end of the school year when we had an assembly where top students were given awards for grades and community service with the school (I won an award with two other students for our volunteer bake sales for the local SPCA and we even arranged an ‘adoption day’ where pets were brought to the school on a Sunday and find a fur-ever home). The nasty teacher gave some speech announcing her retirement and gratitude for her years of teaching (she was still under investigation for fraud and theft at the time) and one parent in the assembly yelled ‘Liar, you’re resigning because you’re a liar and a thief’ and I found the courage to yell, ‘Don’t take things that don’t belong to you’. The assembly members gasped while the MC, who was the school principal come up to the front telling people’ not to shout out and those comments were unacceptable’. A few other parents shouted agreeded while another yelled, ‘send her to jail’.

The teacher fighting back tears cut her speach short and left the assmebly room.

Months later after we started a new school year with a different teacher we read in the local and city newspaper that the teacher and three of the parents were sentenced to some kind of house arrest and a few years of probation (which could result in prison if they had just one infraction) and they were fined a huge amount of money and had to pay back every dime that they stole. Their names were tarnished forever aside from their sentence being on record and the nasty teacher could never show her face anywhere in the Jewish community when everyone talked and she even got a few taunts of ‘liar, thief, you belong in jail’.

To this day I don’t know the long term affects of what happened to that teacher or the parents since I left that city I lived in as a teen to Vancouver where I now live but I’m sure that the teacher had to live with that shame of getting caught as well as the parents (one of them was divorced by her husband and had to sell her house and go back to work at the fabric store her parents owned) for the rest of their lives.

Karma is a bitch ain’t it.

WTF are you talking about?

Is the USA more evil than China and Russia?

Absolutely

Ideology makes someone EVIL

The US Ideology is EVIL

The Ideology is very similar to the Nazis and in fact is an extension of Nazi Doctrine which says

A. The Anglo Saxon race must always rule the world and dictate what everyone else must do, for the world to benefit

B. The cost of killing thousands including Children and Women is worth it to save the World in its present form with the Anglo Saxon race dictating what everyone must do

This Ideology presents themselves as the MASTER RACE and everyone else as a SUBSERVIENT GROUP OF PEOPLE meant to take orders and follow orders

It’s why they don’t care what they do to ensure others don’t develop technology or grow rich enough or independent enough or develop advanced weaponry or energy independence

What makes it Evil?

This can be termed as Ambitious or even Power Hungry but not Evil

However the minute the US allows Women and Children to die in Gaza and ignores the plight of the Middle Eastern Palestinians who are dying of disease and bombs paid for by the US

The decision to nuke civilians

The decision to unleash Agent Orange on unsuspecting Vietnamese who only wanted to run their own country according to their wishes

That makes them Evil

China isn’t EVIL at all

China isn’t even Ambitious or wanting to rule the world

China wants it’s people to prosper, have enough food, enough energy & enough water to prosper and grow and do their best to develop themselves

And defend themselves

They don’t want to achieve Taiwanese domination by all means like the US or they would have bombed Taiwan to rubble citing military threats , fifty times by now

It’s behind their entire geopolitical strategy

A. Securing Oil Deals, Gas Deals, Food Deals, Raw Material Deals through the BRI & FTAs

B. Securing Trade Bases across the Globe to not depend on select routes which could be used against them

C. Building up a Navy primarily to defend against US Aggression or US supported Aggression in the South China Sea

D. Building up a Military force mainly to defend themselves against US Base attacks

Russians are also NOT EVIL

The fact that they still follow code with Ukraine is proof of that

They too have no desire to rule the world

They just want to be Independent and protect their system and their way of life from the American Evil

Nobody else truly is Evil today

None of them have an Ideology that calls for submission of other people

Not even Islamic Fundamentalism

Everything We Know About China’s New H-20 Stealth Bomber

Shorpy

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I entered a competition once, a few years ago now, and won a seat in a top level racing car for some hot laps on the track during practice.

The big day came, and I brought my old motorcycle helmet as requested and got into my assigned car next to the driver. Imagine our shared surprise when the driver turned out to be the asshole that used to punch me, keep punching me until I stopped crying, push my head into the urinals, flick me with a wet towel in the change rooms, and all the other shit his friends subjected me to when I was in high school.

To call the ensuing silence ‘stony’ would be an understatement.

“I know you, don’t I”, he said, eventually.

“Yes” I solemnly replied, looking him in the eye. I thought of all the times during over a decade of martial arts training that this guy had been the face on the punching bag.

“Ahhh”, he said. “I guess I was a dickhead at school. Did I use to bully you?”

“Yes you did” I said, still looking at him rather hard.

“Mmmm. Well, I’m sorry about that.” He said. He paused getting himself strapped into the car for a bit, then said “No excuses for it, I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry for everything I did”, then he paused again. “You don’t have to accept my apology, but there it is”. He finished quietly.

I had absolutely no idea what to say, so I said nothing.

He looked at me for a bit, then said “Do you still want a ride in the car? It’s a lot of fun, and you did win the ride…”

I had a think, and realised that I had actually let go of all the rage years ago, there was just a shell left, and there was nothing either of us could do to undo what happened when we were kids.

“Sure”, I said, “Can you show me how to do this seat belt up?”

And so we had a blast for the next half hour; the acceleration was savage, the noise was phenomenal and both of us got out of the car with huge grins on our faces.

I went around to his side of the car and shook his hand and said “Thanks”.

He didn’t meet my gaze for long, but said “No, thank you”.

And we parted. Definitely not as friends, but certainly as adults.

I stopped this beautiful Asian lady for speeding.

She said her husband was a military pilot and would kill her if she got a ticket. I was walking back to my car to run her.

I wasn’t gonna write the ticket, cause she didn’t deny what she did.

That’s how i rolled. Just gonna make sure she had no warrants.

She jumped out of the car, I met her right behind her car. She dropped to her knees and was trying to unzip my pants. Saying she’ll do anything to get out of it.

I admit I first looked around but then my big brain started working again.

I backed away as she tried to follow on her knees. I said ma’am get up, I’m not writing you a ticket.

Took a second for it to register what I said.

She then got up and now wanted to hug me.

I just said, ma’am you can leave.

Funniest thing about a month later I stopped her husband for going like 85 in a 40. Dorky white pilot who was a Captain.

He was a cockasauraus.

So I cited him. He went to court and lost. He pissed the judge off too.

Jeffrey Sachs: Official! It’s finally over for the West?

John Weyermuller

Sarah could not sleep. The sound of the sea against the hull of her ship, the gentle rolling motion of The Maiden’s sharp hull slicing through a calm surface, the smell of salt. The mild musky scent of Gabriella’s hair and body pressed up next to her, the cool night air from her private quarter’s open balcony door kissing her naked skin. All these wonders of her life at sea, and still Sarah could not sleep.She slowly moved Gabriella’s arm off its resting place across her torso and sat up, careful not to disturb The Maiden’s first mate in the process. The smooth teak wood floors were cool as she stood up with a sigh and stretched. Sarah moved towards the open balcony door, the two moons over the Aether Sea glimmered off the water in the pitch-dark night as she approached her balcony. Sarah rested her arms on the balcony railing. As the admiral of the fleet, she had beautiful quarters on the massive ship, one of the perks was a private balcony on the stern that no one on the ship could see, and even with the moons high in the sky and the thousands of glittering stars and planets above someone on a neighboring ship could never have seen her. Even if she worried about such things.Sarah breathed in the sea and let out a huge sigh. Her arms and legs ached, and her back felt as if it was knotted in a hundred places. None of which had anything to do with her and Gabriella’s evening activities. She rolled her neck to try and release some of the tension there and as she did so the scent of burned wood, burned flesh, and melted iron overpowered the delightful smells of the Aether Sea. She felt the panic threaten to take hold.Mere hours earlier Sarah had led the White Fleet in an engagement meant to help hasten the end to her Mother’s war with the Grand Isthmus Confederation. The leftover scents of that battle rolled off her ship and the ships in her fleet. A shudder ran through Sarah that had nothing to do with her nakedness in the cool night air. Sarah was transported back to the battle in her mind, the sights, sounds, and even smells. Every face of every sailor she watched die, cut down from boarders, blown apart by shells, sliced by the iron shrapnel of impacts on the hull. She had commanded ships in battle for over a decade and never lost, today was no exception, but the burden of command was beginning to weigh on her more.She stared out over the dark waters, toward the deep center of the Aether Sea she knew lay to the West. She wished she could take her ships on an adventure to that unnaturally calm, deep water, and try to find some of what legends said the Aether Sea had to offer. Braving the monsters of the deep would be preferable to the business of war, that man-made monster she had battled for years. “If I had known where this life would lead, I would have chosen differently.”Tears begin to roll down her cheeks as Sarah stares off into the distance, her grip on the railings tightening until her knuckles turn white. She quietly breathes out “I would give anything for a simple life, free of these burdens, all these responsibilities, free of these deaths on my conscience.” A spark of blue and purple light catches Sarah’s eye in front of her. Not off in the distance, immediately in front of her, just off the railing, so close she jumps back a step. The light swirls, and arcs with what looks like lightning, and yet there’s no sound. The swirl opens to a vast green countryside with woods and mountains in the distance. It’s home, not her literal home, but her homeland, on the Cloud Islands. The sun-kissed land stretches from one end of the oval opening ringed in arcing purple and blues.Sarah has heard many stories in her lifetime at sea with sailors of miraculous, even magical, events. She’s even witnessed some things herself beyond explanation but this is something she has only ever read about once. When she was a child, being educated and molded into a leader of a nation, she used to steal away books of a less-than-factual nature. In one she read an account of a man who had lost everything, his wife and sons died in a fire in their home while he was away, and he asked the Aether Sea for a new family. A portal, like this one, had opened and he was given a choice of a new life. Accounts from the ship said he had taken it and never returned. “A new life…” Sarah gasps. Without hesitation, without covering herself, or grabbing any of her weapons, without any precautions at all, she climbs up onto the railing and stepped through the portal that seemed to follow the ship impossibly.Her feet touch down onto grass with soft soil underneath. The sounds of the sea are replaced with the chirping of birds and the soft rustling of the wind through stalks of grain, wild grasses, and tree branches. The salty smell of the sea and the smell of the iron and polished teak wood of her ship are gone. In their place, she can smell the earthiness of barley and the sweet scent of peach trees. The familiar chill of night on the Aether Sea has left Sarah, now the warm sun beats her skin, warming her back, face, arms, and legs comfortably. She is wearing the traditional clothing of the agri-workers of the inner islands, plain beige light cotton cloth, a skirt, and a loose short-sleeved shirt.Sarah had only ever come here on tours of the Empire with her father when she was very young, and although her memories were old she easily recognizes the surroundings as real. “Oh.” a small gasp escapes her lips as a dizzy spell hits Sarah suddenly. A disorienting sensation floods her mind as she begins to feel memories break into her mind. Memories of a life she knows she did not live but also memories that make this world, this life, as real to her as the grass beneath her feet.She has children! Sydney, Grace, and Frank. They all still live at home, that home, just beyond the fields to the north. She can make out their silhouettes playing in the pond beside the house. She has… a husband… Herron Matthews. A massive grin grows across Sarah’s expression as she remembers Herron from her childhood, both childhoods. Her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. “Both childhoods… both?” Confusion creeps into Sarah’s mind, how could there be two childhoods to remember that were so similar? She loved Herron deeply. Before leaving for the academy their parting had been a gut-wrenching experience for bothNo! She loves him deeply, he is a brilliant man, a considerate husband, and an even better father. They live a simple, perhaps some might describe it as poor, life on the farm. There’s hardship, she lost a son when he was only 4 to a bout of Cyrax Flu, and they’ve certainly endured years of struggle with not enough to go around but there’s a purity and joy in this life.Sarah walks toward home, she runs her hands along the stalks of grain growing in the fields. It is near time for them to harvest, this year Herron is planning to distill the peach bourbon that’s so famous with all their neighbors. Sarah enjoys pouring it into iced tea, she can taste it already. Then she sees him. Herron is in the field checking over the crop. He is wearing a skirt similar to her own but is working in the sun without a shirt, the sun glistens off the sweat on his back. Sarah runs to him “Herron!” She calls as she draws near, he turns beaming in delight at her sudden appearance, and opens his arms. “Sarah, my love.”Sarah practically throws herself into her husband’s arms. His smell, the way he feels in her arms, and her in his, feels like home, it’s a loving embrace as her lips meet his in a soft, supple, familiar kiss. Herron breaks the kiss first but continues to hold Sarah tight with arms muscled by years of hard farm labor. “Let us call it a day my love, we can go back and play with the children, have an early supper, and lie together under the stars tonight.”“I do love lying with you under the stars,” Sarah responds.Herron releases Sarah and grabs her hand, leading her toward their home and the pool the children are swimming, and splashing in. Something nags at the back of her mind as she walks with Herron. “Herron?”“Hmmm?”“I can’t remember, when are my parents coming to visit again?” Herron stops and turns fully to look into Sarah’s eyes.“You do not remember?”“No. I… I remember a lot, but there’s also a fog of other memories, it’s hard to explain.”Herron smiles and there’s a curious look in his eyes. “Ah, you’re one of her others.”“Others? Whose others?” Sarah asks.“My Sarah. Sometimes the Aether brings other versions of you here, it has happened 3 times. They, well you, ask the Aether something about your life and it decides to show you this.” He sweeps his hands around the idyllic farm cradled in a picturesque valley. “There is always some quirk that gives you away.”“It’s… so wonderful. This life compared to mine.” Sarah feels a deep sorrow welling up in her chest as the conflicting memories in her mind war with one another and her other life comes crashing into focus. A sob leaves her and Herron pulls her close, her head rests against his chest as she sobs. “I’ve seen, and done, such horrible things in that other life. I would love to remain here.”Herron hushes her as he gently strokes Sarah’s hair. “I know, you all seem to come here broken in some way.” Sarah looks up into his eyes.“Where are my mother and father here?”“Dead.” Sarah’s eyes widen in shock.

“What? How!?”

Herron does not answer immediately, contemplating. “About 5 years after we marry and move here the White Fleet is defeated at a battle near Obsidian Port. Within a year of that defeat, the Cloud Islands had fallen completely, and your parents were captured and executed. The Isthmian Confederation rules the Cloud Islands now.”

“No… we… we win the Battle of Obsidian port. I win it.” Sarah says.

“Not here you don’t my love. Here we labor under the Isthmians because the White Fleet loses. The other Sarahs also had similar reactions to this news.” Herron continues to stroke her hair soothingly, in the same way, Gabriella does. Gabriella… “My love, our lives are the sum of the decisions we make in life. We do what we think is best, it’s all any of us can do, and we live with those choices. I don’t know why the Aether gives you a choice to come to stay here, I don’t know why you make the various choices you do in life, but I know here. Here, you are happy, you are loved, you are content.”

Sarah pulls away, “Even under the yoke of the Isthmians?”

“We are not warriors or politicians Sarah, we farm, we provide for our friends and neighbors.”

Sarah looks around at all the beauty in the valley. She listens to the sound of her children playing in the pool near their farmhouse. She breathes in Herron and the world around her. Memories of what has become of her home under Isthmian rule, people subjugated, beaten, jailed. Homes burned, cities sacked. All because here she did nothing, she chose to leave a life she had been built for, a hard life, but a necessary one. She takes another step back from Herron. He frowns slightly. “You will leave too,” he says.

“Oh Herron, if I go what happens to your Sarah?”

“Nothing, she won’t remember you. This is about you, not… her, if that makes sense to you,” He reaches out and grabs her hand again. “Sarah, you don’t have to go back. You don’t have to be that other person. You can unburden yourself here. With me. Forget the Isthmians and your destiny to wage war and rule the seas as the Empress one day. Be here, with me. Be here with us.”

The temptation is acute but something still tugs at her. Another memory from a life on the seas, something pulling her back. She could live her life out here, content. Tanned in the sun, with clear skies, unburdened, picking peaches and chasing her children. She could lay with Herron every night. Season after season, a simple happy life. But that life is a dream, it is not her reality. That destiny was not made for her. Sarah Dux III, future Empress of the Cloud Islands’ fate was a life of duty and responsibility. A fate to protect her people, to lead them, a fate very different from an honest farmer on the inner islands. “No.” Sarah looks deep into Herron’s eyes and sees sadness but also understanding there.

“I understand my love. I hope you will find happiness and peace one day.”

Sarah turns from him, from her children, from her home. She turns her back on all of it and walks back towards the portal. Each step strengthens the memories from her life at sea. Her real life. With each step the life of Sarah Dux the farmer fades in her mind. Through the portal, she can see the darkness. A balcony on the stern of a ship, barely illuminated by the moons. With the confidence bred into her, with the fearlessness of an Admiral of the White Fleet, with the unbreakable iron will of a future Empress, she steps through the portal again, back to the darkness of her other, her real, life.

Her right foot touches the top railing and she springs down onto her left with the deftness of the hard-bitten sailor she is. Sarah looks over her shoulder, she can just make out Herron in the field, with… her… by his side, as the portal blinks shut. She stands at the railing again, the cool air against her, and the smell of the salty Aether Sea fills her nostrils. She remembers the portal, and what she left behind, but it is fading fast, as if it were a dream. A dream she knows wasn’t a dream, but also a dream that isn’t her reality. Sarah turns back to her quarters, Gabriella snores softly on their bed, the sheets pulled down to her waist. Exactly where they had been when Sarah had risen from her place at Gabriellas’ side earlier. The light of the moons through the balcony door and several round porthole windows illuminates her dark skin and face, her dark curly hair falls slightly across her face, all of it framing her beautifully. Sarah shakes her head, “How could I have ever considered a life with you.”

While they have not been together long, Sarah knows one thing now for certain she had not before. While the Sarah of her not-dream had a deep, abiding love of Herron, this Sarah. Her. She has Gabriella, and maybe, that is enough.

America Compared: Why Other Countries Treat Their People So Much Better Reaction!

Bailey’s Irish Cream Brownies

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36a06ed77eef106eed34ee79a346c222

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Ingredients

Brownies

  • 3 ounces unsweetened baking chocolate
  • 1/2 cup butter
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 6 tablespoons Bailey’s Irish Cream, divided
  • 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • Dash of salt
  • 2/3 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Frosting

  • 3 tablespoons softened butter
  • 4 tablespoons Bailey’s Irish Cream
  • 3 cups confectioners’ sugar

Instructions

Brownies

  1. Melt unsweetened chocolate with butter in microwave and mix well. Cool.
  2. Beat sugar and eggs together in mixing bowl.
  3. Add Bailey’s Irish Cream and cooled chocolate mixture. Mix well.
  4. Stir in flour, salt and chocolate chips.
  5. Pour into greased and floured 8 inch square baking pan.
  6. Bake at 325 degrees F for approximately 20 minutes (test with wooden pick).
  7. Cool completely (about 1 1/2 hours).
  8. Pierce brownies with a wooden pick randomly. Drizzle remaining 3 tablespoons Bailey’s Irish Cream over brownies, then frost.

Frosting

  1. In mixing bowl, combine liqueurs and butter. Mix well.
  2. Gradually add confectioners’ sugar and beat until spreading consistency.
  3. Frost cooled brownies.

China & Russia’s BIG Decision SHOCKED Singapore What’s Next

Enjoy the ride

Not the way I read it.

I have been puzzled about the “reserve currency” argument ever since it was floated years ago.

What is a reserve currency? It is a fraction of a circulating currency acquired by central banks as a liquid asset, often in the form of interest-bearing debt.

BRICS is a supranational coalition of the third world spread across continents, cultures and beliefs. There is no hope of stepping up from 0 into a monetary union to issue something like the Euro, which is causing massive damage to, say, the Italian economy because of the failure to coordinate fiscal policy and account for regional differences.

Besides, going from 0 to a fraction of a circulating currency acquired by central banks as a liquid asset isn’t trivial.

What’s more realistic in the interim is a cross-border payment system immune from western sanction, using local currencies as the medium of exchange.

Yes, the forex market is still centered on the dollar, and exchange rates are converted with the aid of the dollar.

For example, sgd/myr is arrived at using usd/sgd and usd/myr rates.

But let’s say a SWIFT alternative is developed by BRICS and 150 countries start using it.

A proxy to the dollar can be established within the system to facilitate local currency settlement to BYPASS THE DOLLAR. This is similar in principle to tether in the crypto world being pegged 1:1 to the dollar, allowing use of the token to transact digital assets. This is also similar to alibaba’s use of a credit ledger to transact yuan denominated goods within its platform.

The technology to implement such a system already exist. “Money as message” and “money as token” are already proven. The challenge is to integrate a real-time forex component into the equation. Complicated, but not insurmountable.

The biggest hurdle is trust. But with more than 100 nations gathered in kazan, there is critical mass to push the project forward.

In time, the brics-issued token within brics-maintained ledgers will morph into trustworthy global stores of wealth, and become a fraction of a circulating currency acquired by central banks as a liquid asset.

So, trading currency, before reserve currency.


Someone asked for a clearer illustration of the difference with the euro.

Simply, the brics currency isn’t used to value assets in-country, only cross-border goods and services.

The Viking Seeress of Fyrkat: a High-status Sorceress and Seductress

Picture1
Picture1

A Norse burial site in Denmark from around the year 940 contains the remains of a woman of high status whom experts believe was a seeress or völva.

Such women held a special place in society and commanded the attention of Viking kings, warriors and even the gods. Witches, called völur, are mentioned in some of the old Norse manuscripts.

This grave contains the body of a woman who has been dubbed the Seeress of Fyrkat. She was buried with items that indicate she may have practiced seid or sorcery.

The völur were known to seduce men, and for this reason some deemed them dangerous. The goddess Freya was also known as a seducer, and she may have been a divine role model for sorceresses in Norse society.

Yes, utter pricks.

I was jiffed for some shit job in the sergeants mess, the day a video recorder went missing

About 5 months later I was lifted by the RMP and taken to be questioned. “Where were you on 5th March?”

I had absolutely no idea, it was months ago

“The day you were in the sergeants mess doing X Y and Z”

Right, I was in the sergeants mess doing that; somewhat obvious I thought

They carry on about where in the mess, what I was doing, times, people that saw me etc

Then they play their trump card; “actually, you’ve just told us about the 5th, you were actually there in the 4th. So what we’re doing on THAT day?”

I was in the mess

“But we’ve ascertained what you were doing in the 5th, tell us about the 4th when you were there and the VCR went missing”

“Are you pissed? I told you about the day I was in the mess, you told me the date”

“So you’re lying about what you were doing on the 5th”

“Right, you are making shit up, doing an absolutely fucking shit job of questioning, and I’m answering fuck all else until my boss gets here” I’d already got my sergeant with me, as allowed, but we were allowed to have an officer. Our branch office in the formation headquarters only had 2 officers; a Major (who was out somewhere on a unit visit that day), and Commander Medical, a full Colonel that was an ex ranker, a mate of my dads for nearly 30 years, and absolutely hated MP’s. He turns up, finds out what they’d been doing and absolutely ripped the shit out of everyone he could find, including their OC, a major

So yes, utter cunts

The Seeress of Fyrkat’s Grave

Fyrkat is a ring fortress near Hobro, Denmark. Archaeologists found unusual objects in the woman’s grave, including an iron staff that was disintegrating. Her grave was one of 30 found at the fortress.

The National Museum of Denmark describes the burial:

‘At the time of burial the woman was dressed in fine blue and red clothes adorned with gold thread – which had royal status. She was buried, like the richest women, in the body of a horse-drawn carriage. She had been given ordinary female gifts, like spindle whorls and scissors. But there were also exotic goods from foreign parts, indicating that the woman must have been wealthy. She wore toe rings of silver, which have not been found elsewhere in Scandinavia. In addition, two bronze bowls were also found in the grave, which may have come all the way from Central Asia.’

Several Viking Age graves of wealthy women contained iron staffs explains the museum. Experts concluded these seeresses or völur were from the upper strata of Viking societies. The word völva probably means staff or wand.

The archaeologists also found seeds of henbane plants, a poison that may have been used to induce mild euphoria, hallucinations and trances. The seeds, plus the iron staff with bronze fittings, are signs that the Seeress of Fyrkat may have been a magic-practicing seeress or volva.

Viking seeress cooking spit
Viking seeress cooking spit

The Viking seeress’s cooking spit. The spit was already slightly bent when it was placed in the burial. (National Museum Denmark)

Henbane seeds when thrown on fire produce smoke that is mildly hallucinogenic if breathed in. The seeds could be made into a salve that imparted a psychedelic high when rubbed into the skin. The seeds were in a small purse. Witches of later years also were known to use henbane.

Another poisonous substance, white lead sometimes used to produce an ointment for the skin, was found in the Seeress of Fyrkat’s belt buckle.

The museum site says other grave items indicate the woman was a seeress. Archaeologists found a box containing owl pellets, small mammal and bird bones, and a silver amulet in the shape of a chair. The article says it may have been a magic or seid chair.

a mysterious small cup
a mysterious small cup

This small cup was found in the seeress’s grave. (National Museum of Denmark)

They also found a small cup, possibly for drinking, and a bronze cup that may have come from Central Asia. The bronze cup had a fatty substance inside and a grass cover.

Even Odin, the King of the Gods, Called on Seeresses

A Viking edda or document called the Voluspa: The Prophecy of the Seeress, says Odin visited a seeress and sought “to know the future and what the fate of the world will be. He looks poor and miserable, but as he has only one eye the seeress recognizes him immediately as Odin,” says another article on the National Museum of Denmark site.

Odin offers the völva his necklace and ring as payment for telling him the future. She then begins to inform him about the creation of the world, the first gods and people, as well as the end of the world – Ragnarök, when gods will do battle with giants. The seeress also describes how after Ragnarök, the all-destructive war, the world will rise again. But she also sees that evil will return to the world.

Odin and Völven
Odin and Völven

Odin consults with a volva, drawing by Lorenz Frølich. (Public Domain)

The Vikings believed seeresses could enter altered states of consciousness and see the future or distant events. They did seid or magic using a special seat.

During their sessions, these mystical women were surrounded by young girls who sang to the spirits. The songs invoked the spirits and sent the seeresses into a trance, whence they could communicate with gods and spirits, see far-off places and predict the future. They supposedly also could make an enemy restless or make a weapon invincible.

Seeresses Had a High Place in Society

Seeresses’ high status meant they were accorded respect. Households or settlements in distress would call on them for help.

The Flateyjarbok, an Icelandic manuscript quoted in The Cassell Dictionary of Norse Myth and Legend, says:

‘In those days wise women, called prophetesses, used to travel about the countryside, and they foretold people’s lives. Because of that many people invited them to their homes, made feasts in their honor, and gave them gifts when they left.’

The Saga of Erik the Red tells of a seeress who was called on to do magic for a whole settlement. She had an entourage of young girls with her who sang.

The seeresses did not just practice magic for others. They sometimes used magic to further their own interests.

Christian Authorities Forbid Magic

After the conversion of the Norse lands to Christianity, seeresses were in peril. An Anglo-Saxon  document of the late 10th century says a woman suspected of witchcraft was drowned at London Bridge.

In the Norse lands, after Christianity was introduced, authorities made laws that suppressed pagan ritual and forbade seid and any other magic. Seid is making a comeback today and is being practiced by neo-pagans.

The National Museum of Denmark this year has an interactive exhibit displaying the Seeress of Fyrkat’s grave goods and explaining her place in society. The exhibition is called “The Viking Sorceress.”

Top image: The burial of the Seeress of Fyrkat, a drawing by Thomas Hjejle Bredsdorff.                Source: National Museum of Denmark

Be the Rufus!

While shopping at Goodwill one day, I was approached by a lady. She asked me if I remembered her. I said that she looked familiar, which is my standard answer when I have no clue who a person is. In my lifetime I have met thousands of people and I don’t remember them all, but would never tell them that.

The lady started to cry. She took my hand and proceeded to tell me that I am her Angel, that she often tells her grandchildren about the lady who saved her life. I looked at her stunned. How did I save this lady’s life?

Many years ago she was homeless, her then husband had beaten her and thrown her out of her house, she had lost custody of the kids, her family had rejected her and she had nowhere to go. She was living in the women’s shelter but she was not getting along with the other women and had pretty much reached the limits as to what she could endure, so she called a cab to take her to the beach where she planned on drowning herself. I was the driver of the cab she called.

She told me that I wouldn’t drive her to the beach, that instead I drove her around in my cab like I knew what her intentions were. I talked to her about the way abuse works, how giving up on hope is to let the abuser win. About how life may be tough at times but it won’t always be tough, to hang in there.

She said I told her that she will be loved right someday, so don’t give up now. She told me after driving her around for over an hour talking to her and making her broken heart feel so much stronger that I would not take her money for the ride. Instead, I had insisted that she keep it in her wallet as seed money so more would grow.

My words helped her get through the fight to get her kids back, to hold onto hope that life would get better, and it did. She told me she’s married to an amazing man and is happy. She thanked me for showing kindness to a stranger and, since meeting me, how I had become her role model.

I’m glad her life turned out well. I felt uncomfortable being thought of as a role model, To me, what I did was just something that I was able to do at the time, so I did. In other words, to me it was insignificant but to her it was phenomenal.

(Helping the lady see that life was worth living was not insignificant — it wasn’t — what it cost me was insignificant.)

Symbols of Power: Deciphering the Language of the Secret Elite

The Hawthorne Lights

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Write a story involving a portal into a parallel universe. view prompt

A.J Roberts

The year was 1990 and everyone thought Becky Pierson was the meanest girl in Hawthorne. She believed she was destined for fame and fortune. Living in a small rural village was her biggest inconvenience. The day was very warm and the school bus ride home was becoming unbearable. Becky was getting ornery, so she scanned the bus for a distraction. That’s when she noticed the two girls sitting three rows in front of her. They left their bus window up when every other window was down. They were much younger than Becky. Still in elementary school. Disgusted that they would dare make her so miserably hot, Becky grabbed her brand new kodak film camera out of her back pack and marched towards the grungy girls.“Why on earth would you leave your bus window up on such a hot day?” She barked. The girls looked up at her startled. The motion caused the taller of the two girls to lose her bow. She picked it up and adjusted her ponytail before answering quietly.“Didn’t you hear what happened to Ricky Anderson? He was taken by the fairies in the forest. He went out to the big hawthorne circle next to the park four days ago. No one has seen him since.” Becky scowled then answered.“Fairies! You two must be the dumbest people to have ever walked the earth.”“I live next to the park and saw the lights in the forest.” The shorter girl interjected. “My grandmother used to live in the Isle of Skye, Scotland. Her neighbors there were fey and fairies visited them all the time. My grandmother wouldn’t lie about such things.” Becky had heard the news about Ricky Anderson yesterday, but didn’t like the girl’s tone. Becky gave the girls a smirk before she stood up tall and shouted as loud as she could.“Hey everybody, these two believe in fairies!” A chuckle rolled through the bus and Becky felt validated. She turned her beady eyes towards the younger girls and showed them her Kodak. She leaned over them and spoke quietly. “My father is a news reporter and his whole job is to expose kooks like you. I am already investigating what happened to Ricky. I’m going to take this fancy new camera that my father got me to find Ricky and prove you two are psychotics. They will lock you up in a mental asylum for spreading dangerous rumors and I will become famous for saving the town from the likes of you.” The bus reached Becky’s stop so she gave the girls one last sneer before grabbing her bookbag. “Fairies aren’t real.” She told the girls spitefully as she walked towards the exit. Becky waited for the bus to pull away and then ran excitedly towards her house. All she had to do was find Ricky and she would be the most famous person in Hawthorne.As usual no one was home, but all that would change when she was rich and famous. Becky emptied her books out of her bag to reload it with supplies. A notebook, a flashlight, snacks, a blanket, and of course her brand new kodak. She microwaved a tv dinner because she didn’t know how long she would be gone. She day dreamed about how awesome she was the entire time she packed and ate. Becky grabbed her gear and hopped on her pink and black, lowrider Huffy. The pink banana seat had a tear down the middle, but it was still the most envied bike on the rural block. Becky looked down at her Casio watch and was shocked. “ It’s already seven thirty I have to get going, where do I start? The younger girl had mentioned she lived by the park, and there was only one park in Hawthorne.” Becky lived about a mile away from Hawthorne Park, so she started in that direction while she planned out her investigation.There was only one family at the park when Becky arrived. A mother with two rambunctious toddlers. She grabbed her note book out of her backpack and walked over. Becky was determined to interrogate the stranger. “Do you know where Ricky Anderson is?”“I’m not entirely sure who that is.” The mother responded politely as she pulled a wad of messy black hair from her face. Becky noticed she was pretty enough to be on tv and felt bitter.“You know who I’m talking about, everybody does. He is the highschool senior who disappeared four days ago. He was last seen at this park. You were probably involved with his disappearance. You look like the type.” Annoyed by Becky’s attitude the mother answered sharper than before.“I can assure you I have no idea who Ricky Anderson is. My children are in preschool, so I don’t particularly pay attention to high school politics.” The mother turned towards the swings and gently shouted. “Boys, it’s time to go home and clean up for the night.” They moaned in unison, but ran to their mother. Becky watched them leave, but hoped her children would be taken away. Anyone who would speak to a fourteen year old girl like that should not be a mother. Becky waited for more families to show up, but the sun had already set and it was getting dark fast. Becky dug her flashlight out of her backpack as she went over the conversation she had earlier on the bus.“The little girl on the bus said she saw lights coming out of the forest the night Ricky disappeared. She said the lights were coming from the Hawthorne circle. Hawthorne circle is where all the high schoolers go to makeout and I’ve never been there. Luckily, I once overheard the highschoolers at the bus stop talking about how to get there. There should be a trail at the .75 marker on the two mile hiking trail that connects to the park. The circle should be down there. I bet Ricky is there right now trying to prank the entire village. They’ll give me an award after I expose his pathetic scam.” Becky grabbed her stuff and started hiking towards the trail. It didn’t take her long to find the wooden marker that separated the main trail from an overgrown and barely used path. Lost in her thoughts she walked the pathway for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly she noticed how dark it had gotten. Becky evaluated her situation and thought.“I will never be able to find the circle. Even with my flashlight it’s too dark to tell which type of trees I am looking at. Good thing I packed a blanket. It won’t be fun, but I guess I’ll just wait for the sun to come up. It will be worth it to find Ricky and get an interview on Oprah.” Becky unpacked her blanket and leaned against a nearby tree. It didn’t take long for her tediously busy day to catch up to her. Her eyes got very heavy and she fell asleep just as the moon was beginning to peak.Becky was in such a deep sleep that the bright blue light startled her subconscious. This caused her awakening to feel like she was falling and about to crash back into her body. She felt the crash and gasped as her eyes flew open. Ten yards in front of her stood twelve massive hawthorne trees aligned in a circle. In the center of the circle was an eight foot tall stone archway. The center of which all the light was flowing from. In front of the archway stood a tall, beautiful woman with long unconfined black hair. Her wild hair rested beneath a crown of purple foxgloves. Becky couldn’t take her eyes off of the queenly woman. Dazed for a long time, she studied the odd scene that had unfolded before her. Becky could see that the woman was speaking, but couldn’t hear over the thrumming in her ears.“Blessed be!” The woman cheered loudly while raising a chalice. At once, a hundred hummingbirds, that Becky had failed to notice, flew from the ground through the archway. Only one remained and landed on the woman’s outstretched hand. The hummingbird looked wrong so Becky focused in.“A fairy!” She shouted excitedly to herself. In two fast movements Becky grabbed her Kodak out of her bag and jumped to her feet. The suddenness of her commotion caused the fairy to follow the others through the archway. Becky marched towards the dark haired woman.“Where is Ricky Anderson?” She asked. “I know you kidnapped him.” The woman smiled at Becky as she approached.“I’m not entirely sure who that is. I am merely a mother visiting your universe for the evening. My children love the hawthorne trees here.” The strange woman reminded Becky of the mother she met earlier at the park. But that wasn’t important right now.“I can tell when I’m being lied to.” Becky scoffed. She pointed towards the glowing archway and said. “ If you don’t tell me the truth then I will be forced to investigate your universe.” The woman looked surprised, but answered very quietly.“I would not do that if I were you. Every universe has a unique time flow. You are not of the fae and may be harmed if you pass through. ” Becky stopped listening when she heard the word not. No one could tell her no when there was fame and fortune on the line. She gripped her Kodak as tightly as she could and bolted towards the portaled archway.“I’ll only be a minute!” Becky shouted behind her as she barreled through. Passing through the archway made her feel nauseous. It felt like an eternity and an instant at the same time. Becky took a deep breath to calm her heart before looking around. On the opposite side of the entrance, thousands of fairies were going about their day in a beautiful forested city. Right in front of her lay a moss like pond, where twenty fairies were sitting on multiple flowering lily pads. Becky could tell by the looks on their little faces that they were very shocked their chat had been interrupted. She raised her camera. Click. Click. Click. She only had twenty four chances to get the perfect photograph and she used everyone. After taking one last glance at the mysterious universe, Becky turned around and closed her eyes, hoping it would help with nausea, before walking through the portal again.“I told you I would only be a minute!” Becky exclaimed before opening her eyes. The beautiful woman was still standing there, but everything had changed. The trees were all ancient looking and different varieties than before.“Was it worth it?” The woman asked. Becky didn’t even have to think about her response.“I have twenty four real life pictures of fairies. I am going to be the richest and most popular person in the world. Of course it was worth it.” The woman nodded then walked towards the archway.“The year is 2990 and your device no longer works in your universe. It is an ancient technology that no one alive today will be able to decipher.” Stunned Becky watched the archway disappear as the woman walked through it. Truly alone, Becky was left with nothing but her thoughts.“Maybe there is more to life than fame and fortune.”

Brownies with Marshmallow Mint Sauce

49753cd98adc1a787d3fb118d8c45970
49753cd98adc1a787d3fb118d8c45970

Ingredients

  • 1 (16 ounce) box brownie mix
  • 1/2 (1 pint) jar Marshmallow Creme
  • 2 tablespoons green creme de menthe
  • Vanilla ice cream

Instructions

  1. Prepare fudge-type brownies according to package directions.
  2. Cool slightly; cut into large bars or squares.
  3. Blend together the Marshmallow Creme and creme de menthe.
  4. To serve, top each brownie with a scoop of ice cream. Spoon mint sauce over top.

The ugly truth is that Americans will have to adapt to a lower standard of living and get back to work, instead of arguing politics and blaming each other. This process will last at least 30+ years.

The real reason Republican administrations (Trump) and Democrat (Biden) have started a trade war and put sanctions on chip and AI technology sales to China is because they understand that with the current state of the American workforce and technology, there is no way the American products and services can compete with Chinese products and services in the U.S. and in international markets. The U.S., in its history, has never encountered an economy which has the capability to steamroller the US economy the way China’s economy can. This is the real reason Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen complains about an “oversupply” of Chinese products.

But China is not really to blame for this: it is the fault of the U.S. ruling class for failing to invest in the U.S. workforce, its education system, and transportation and manufacturing infrastructure. Instead of making medium-and long-term investments which would take 1–3 decades to show results, but which would generate a long-term benefit to Americans, they have instead chosen quick fixes and red herrings which would help them win the next election. Both parties have kicked the can down the road, and now they see that there is no more road.

China’s rise is mainly an economic challenge to the U.S., which could have been handled with domestic investment and infrastructure policies 20–30 years ago. Instead, Wall St’s gift to the US economy and the world was the 2008 subprime mortgage crisis, which directly led to populism and Trump’s election in 2016.

Since 2016, U.S. administrations have used China as a scapegoat for their own domestic policy failures. Since the U.S. is used to using foreign military adventures and foreign “enemies” as a distraction to the American people from their own failures, they have tried to goad China into attacking Taiwan by stepping up arms sales to the Taiwan authorities. China has responded by stepping up military exercises around Taiwan, but has not yet taken the bait to attack Taiwan.

That is why we are where we are today.

First, it is American troops stationed in Okinawa, and more recently, taiwan, including the provocative presence of SOCOM forces in jinmen, within sight of Xiamen in fujian.

Second, it is indopacom that is drawing down half its Okinawa troops to be redeployed on Guam and surrounding islands. Kadena is no longer the keystone of the pacific, with Guam being fortified to the tune of billions as the new fortress.

China has no claims to the ryukus, although it insists on the fulfillment of the cairo and Potsdam declarations as an equal-weight victor. China was not party to the treaty of San Francisco that left significant gaps on the table.

In the 2020s, China’s sovereignty claim on Taiwan, and by extension, diaoyutai, is a quarrel between Washington and Beijing. The US recognizes china’s claim by upholding the One China policy, but refuses china’s exercise of sovereignty. Beijing meanwhile insists on the One China principle. I will leave the difference between the two as an exercise for the interested reader.

As we have seen in the past two years, China is fully prepared and drilling intensely for a blockade on Taiwan. In 2025, a complete encirclement of taiwan can be enacted on demand, with the latest exercise declaring exclusion zones in real time without pre-warning.

Naval and air force units have been rotated for drills in the Ecs to familiarize personnel with local conditions and maintain a strong presence in the vicinity of taiwan, particularly the key Bashi and miyako straits.

China is prepared to turn Taiwan into a cocooned fort rather than the battleground.

After all, the threat to Taiwan is as far south as America, as far east as America and as far north as America.

The US Has Already Lost Guam to China

The white kitten surprise

Major system breakdown in MM land.

My VPN was “collapsed” by the Chinese government, and I had to switch to another one. (Nothing personal. Probably shut down because of some abuse one way or the other.)

Most of my data-collection websites are American and thus inaccessible in China without a VPN, as well as all of my business communication. So my links (for the most part) are simply inaccessible.

screen 2024 10 26 11 06 47
screen 2024 10 26 11 06 47

So I purchased a replacement VPN.

But it couldn’t load. My system is in Lunix, and to load the drivers and software, I had to do it manually. Which I attempted. I did so using three different methods.

Sadly. All were flat fails.

It turned out that my system had a lot of interconnect junk code, and orphaned code, and broken packages that were messing everything up.

So, what I did was backed up everything. Then sync my phone and computer for all my passwords and bookmarks. Then I downloaded the latest version of my Lunix OS.

Here’s a screenshot of my desktop.

screen 2024 10 26 11 05 08
screen 2024 10 26 11 05 08

I use my generated AI artwork to serve as background for my PC. Lots of “schmaltz” but I like it.

As of this writing, my VPN is still not functional. I need to set up servers (which is something that I have never done before.) And flush out the general parameter bases from which to proceed from, but I am confident that I’ll get it resolved eventually.

Anyways, because of this, and the time that I am taking to deal with this, this particular post and next series of posts will be a little bit lean.

Sorry in advance.

I once went on a job interview in Deland, Florida.

I was interviewing for a design engineer position designing sonarbueys.

PerspectX Stage.999.jpg2fca6af5 79d2 44f0 a932 95ad1a77a2a2Original
PerspectX Stage.999.jpg2fca6af5 79d2 44f0 a932 95ad1a77a2a2Original

These are devices that are injected into the ocean to detect the movement of vessels and other parameters.

I liked the work. Enjoyed the people. Loved the environment. Deland, Florida looked so much like Hattiesburg, Mississippi that I immediately felt at home there.

Deland, Florida was lush, comfortable and lovely.

R C
R C

awesome boardwalk
awesome boardwalk

V4919531 0
V4919531 0

downtown deland florida
downtown deland florida

1216875 fl deland
1216875 fl deland

My wife and I spent a week there, house hunting and getting to know the area.

However, as much as I loved it, we turned down the job. As they “low balled” me in salary by 40%. I probably would have accepted a 15% cut in pay. But not a 40% cut. That was just way too much.

Anyways…

I well remember one random rural walk alone early in the morning. I had taken a road that turned into a dirt side road near a fenced in property line.

And I heard mewing.

There must have been somewhere like 16 to 18 all-white kittens.

Not one litter, must have been a couple of litters, but there they were all white, and a ton load of them, and they all wanted my attention.

It was the darnedest thing.

OIP C2
OIP C2

What a coincidence!

I don’t know what it signified, or anything like that, but it did make an impression on me. Here were these 18 or so all-white kittens in the lush green foliage all wanting my attention. What could that mean?

OIP C3
OIP C3

I have some thoughts.

But…

*sheech*

Cool thing, though.

Today…

Trump REVOKING Security Clearances ! ! ! !

President Donald Trump has Revoked the Security Clearances of ex-National Security Advisor John Bolton and intelligence officials accused of misleading 2020 election activities.

The White House says Bolton’s memoir risked exposing classified material and damaged trust in national security discussions.

This order is part of broader measures addressing “abuses of public trust.”

Here is the complete list FLASHED over Intel Circuits:

(1)  James R. Clapper Jr.

(2)  Michael V. Hayden

(3)  Leon E. Panetta

(4)  John O. Brennan

(5)  C. Thomas Fingar

(6)  Richard H. Ledgett Jr.

(7)  John E. McLaughlin

(8)  Michael J. Morell

(9)  Michael G. Vickers

(10) Douglas H. Wise

(11) Nicholas J. Rasmussen

(12) Russell E. Travers

(13) Andrew Liepman

(14) John H. Moseman

(15) Larry Pfeiffer

(16) Jeremy B. Bash

(17) Rodney Snyder

(18) Glenn S. Gerstell

(19) David B. Buckley

(20) Nada G. Bakos

(21) James B. Bruce

(22) David S. Cariens

(23) Janice Cariens

(24) Paul R. Kolbe

(25) Peter L. Corsell

(26) Roger Z. George

(27) Steven L. Hall

(28) Kent Harrington

(29) Don Hepburn

(30) Timothy D. Kilbourn

(31) Ronald A. Marks

(32) Jonna H. Mendez

(33) Emile Nakhleh

(34) Gerald A. O’Shea

(35) David Priess

(36) Pamela Purcilly

(37) Marc Polymeropoulos

(38) Chris Savos

(39) Nick Shapiro

(40) John Sipher

(41) Stephen B. Slick

(42) Cynthia Strand

(43) Greg Tarbell

(44) David Terry

(45) Gregory F. Treverton

(46) John D. Tullius

(47) David A. Vanell

(48) Winston P. Wiley

(49) Kristin Wood

(50) John R. Bolton

 

Two signatories, Patty Patricia A. Brandmaeir and Brett Davis, are deceased.

Comments

The US Empire is stubbornly persisting in its delusional belief that it can swim against the tide of History and just assert the reality it wants, rather than adapting to the reality that is. As the old adage goes, those the gods would destroy they first make mad.

Posted by: Sandgropper | Oct 25 2024 10:44 utc | 2

When I was at the bus station in Charlotte, NC in 1972, on the way to basic training, my Dad, an active-duty Army Sergeant Major, hugged me and told me to just do my very best and not to be worried about anything, just do my best. I was 5’10” and weighed about 120 lbs., not exactly a perfect physical specimen. I took my Dad’s advice and did everything in my power to graduate as high as I could in my class.

While going through, our Senior Drill was a SFC Peter, a man I will never forget, as he challenged me in ways I didn’t know existed. As we were setting up our wall lockers early in basic he walked by and looked over my shoulder. We were allowed exactly two photos of family and I had both posted on the inside of my locker; a picture of my family and a picture of my Dad in uniform. SFC Peter’s only comment was a grunt before he moved on to the next trainee. Toward the end of basic he told me he was putting me in for Trainee of the Cycle, an award that came with an automatic promotion if I won. My answer, like so many there, was, “YES, DRILL SERGEANT!” at the top of my lungs.

Well, I won after going before a board consisting of the company commander, the executive officer and the First Sergeant and, upon graduation was promoted to PFC (E-3). At the graduation I was 5’11” and weighed 175 lbs! After graduation, I moved over to greet my family and noticed Dad had showed up in his dress uniform. Well, SFC Peter walked over and hugged my Dad. Turned out Dad was SFC Peter’s Sergeant Major in Vietnam. Dad had no clue he was my Drill Sergeant.

SFC Peter’s favorite thing to do was tell the troops that they could wear their hair as long as they wanted, so long as it wasn’t longer than his, and he was bald as an egg!

So that’s my encounter with my Drill Sergeant. Hope this answers your question.

Pepperoni Pizza Soup

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39826224613 cce3ed1098 c

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 can condensed tomato soup
  • 1 soup can water
  • 2/3 cup sliced pepperoni
  • 1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning, crushed
  • Shredded mozzarella cheese
  • Croutons

 

 

Instructions

  1. In a 2 quart saucepan, combine soup, water, pepperoni, and seasoning. Heat just to boiling.
  2. Pour into serving bowls, and top with cheese and croutons.

BRICS Summit Results — The Vector Has Been Set, But There Will Be No Easy Path

BRICS Summit Results — The Vector Has Been Set, But There Will Be No Easy Path

Vladimir Putin’s press conference following the BRICS summit turned out to be the perfect finale to the event. Because it listed the main points of the past event — as well as the difficult points that need to be addressed.

First and foremost: in BRICS, as the president emphasized, it is possible to work and achieve results with mutual respect and mandatory consideration of each other’s interests. This is an absolute plus: 35 states and six international organizations took part in the summit. But such equality places increased demands on the quality of dialogue and mutual trust.

All the predictions about who would be accepted into BRICS this time were not confirmed — because no one was accepted. Instead, a category of “partner countries” emerged, which included Algeria, Belarus, Bolivia, Vietnam, Indonesia, Kazakhstan, Cuba, Malaysia, Nigeria, Thailand, Turkey, Uganda and Uzbekistan. There were difficulties with Venezuela (Brazil opposed) and Pakistan (India opposed).

Putin openly commented on this situation, recalling that the issue of admission to BRICS, like all others, will be decided by consensus. The non-expansion of BRICS in itself is not a problem. The risks of uncontrolled expansion, when each member has a de facto veto right, have been written about earlier. But the Kazan BRICS summit showed that the expansion of the bloc will not happen automatically.

An alternative financial reality also did not appear at the click of a button – and this is again nothing unexpected. Because the Western “frog” of dollar hegemony needs to be simmered over low heat, without any sudden movements. The more imperceptibly the preparatory phase of global reforms, the most risky in this case, goes, the better. Strategic considerations for BRICS’ own reinsurance and the “BRICS Clear”cross-border settlement and depository infrastructure were voiced, and the rest of the practical work will be carried out between the finance ministries and central banks of the participating countries. And it will be quiet.

The course towards gently squeezing the West out of existing global mechanisms (IMF, WTO) was confirmed — instead of trying to cut the issue “off the cuff.” Naturally, because right now there are no resources for such an attempt, and the depth of consensus between the BRICS countries is insufficient.

The issue of Ukraine was of secondary importance at best. BRICS participants politely acknowledged the importance of striving for peace — and nothing more. The long-awaited attempts by China, India or Brazil to “force Russia to peace” were not announced.

In general, what BRICS is trying to do, no one in the history of mankind has probably done. Reassembling the world into a fairer format is an extremely difficult task in itself, especially in the context of cruel and even existential resistance from a decrepit but still strong hegemon.

At the same time, the summit in Kazan showed the most important thing: there is a huge demand for a new world order in the world. This idea is shared by a wide variety of countries: from the economic leader China to Cuba and Ethiopia. But the formalized, concretized contours of this world order are still absent.

This is exactly what should become Russia’s main task in the near future – to create and offer the world a clear, logical, consistent image of the future, in which everyone will be better off.

We cannot tempt the whole world with resources and money. Russia is a rich country, but it cannot provide for everyone. We cannot direct the world to a bright future with an iron hand – even if such a desire arose. But we are able to offer humanity an idea that it will be carried away by.

In the 20th century, we already had a very successful attempt of this kind. The BRICS summit is a material embodiment of a new attempt, taking into account the changed realities. We have started not a sprint, but a marathon. In order to succeed, patience and calculation of strength are needed.

This article written by:  Elena Panina

Comment 1

Iran joining BRICS does not mean that Russia or China or anyone else will come to its defense should the U.S./Israel attack the country

That’s also incorrect. Russia and China already signed a treaty that is an alliance in all but name only. Same for Russia and Iran. Russian ships suddenly visit Caracas and park offshore whenever the US starts babbling about invading it. For some reason, “The House of Socialist Fishermen” in Venezuela seems to have a knack for catching all the paramilitaries, color revolutionists, CIA mercenaries and agents the US seems to send to Venezuela for regime change. * cough Russian intelligence cough *. On the other side of the world, the unified SCO – BRICS ‘global security’ paradigm is also an alliance in everything except in its name.

Also, Asia Times is not a non-biased source – it frequently publishes pieces that actually help the US policies, so it downplaying BRICS does not make BRICS any less important or impactful.

The simple reason for India openly doing what it was silently doing and publicly pivoting to BRICS is that the BRICS cemented itself as a new global paradigm that can protect itself. Including, by using weapons.

Posted by: Dodrey Dougherton | Oct 25 2024 11:33 utc | 11

 

Comment 2

The list of BRICS candidates is quite impressive with ALgeria, Indonesia, Nigeria, Malaysia, Cuba, etc.

The west against the rest of the world when the west will be a minority in term of populations and economies.

Contries of the world, unite!

To destroy the 5 century old western hegemony (a history of submitting, looting, massacring and genociding).

Posted by: Naive | Oct 25 2024 11:38 utc | 12

 

Comment 3

India just had too looks at the neighboring countries to know what the west is ready to do to keep the whole region as a punching ball for China. Pakistan ? Coup against Imran Kahn , Bangladesh ? Coup , Sri-Lanka ? Economic assassination by the IMF , Myanmar ? Perpetual civil war engineered by the West for decade kept them under, Thailand ? Chronic political instability fueled by NED’s “NGOs”…

But here came that Russian dude with cheap oil and efficient weapons against “the hegemon’s armies” to sell , and with the road from China to Eastern Africa, Indian merchants are becoming rich as before the English came to ruin their country …

Why did India choose the BRICS ? Because the Anglo-Saxons have sold them only war against China in a lousy “alliance” after having drive them into misery for two century. They have seen the fate of Zelensky and Western European countries, also plundered since the 90’s. Now they will have to brace themselves for a bit on the financial markets but still ; a better option than fighting with the Chinese.

Posted by: Savonarole | Oct 25 2024 12:05 utc | 21

Symbology

As noted by Simplicius, the BRICS 2024 meeting kicked off on a very symbolic date: October 24.

October 24, 1945 was the date of the signing of the UN Charter. It was also the date of execution of the Norwegian WWII collaborator Vidkun Quisling, whose name will forever mean ‘traitor’.

October 24, 1945 was beginning of a new era led by the UN. Maybe we will come to see that October 24, 2024 was when the relay baton was handed over from the UN to BRICS.

Posted by: Norwegian | Oct 25 2024 12:05 utc | 22

Linkage on BRICS

https://tvbrics.com/en/
This is the official media outlet dedicated to BRICS news. English language. Enjoy

Posted by: Hankster | Oct 25 2024 12:21 utc | 25

It’s all going to shit in the West

alas, much expectation about BRICS will continue for decades. During this time Brics will not be bothered by what is now failing and devoured by entropy. But one thing is clear, there is no going back to the threat of the dollar destroying all that touch it.

Midas learned a lesson that rings true today.

And please beware, people that get their knowledge and expertise from the western press are delusional now. They repeat tropes that haven’t been accurate for a few decades and are disintegrating before our lying eyes. Sadly, these pundits hold on for dear life regarding what they want to happen, and take the smallest of clues to heart and continue the willful blindness.

The forest for the trees issue of perception.

Even when they know the source of their contamination is a think tank that doesn’t think but hopes to influence or dreams to rule. The currency backed by nothing always fails and history delivers the truth of it.

And greed will continue after the BRICS have abandoned the prognostication to those that just can’t believe it could happen. Watch the purchasing power falter and fade. 50+ years now of ignoring the inevitable.

Grab one of those trees and hang on tight. Change is forever.

Posted by: Tard | Oct 25 2024 12:48 utc | 31

Western Media

In the western merdias there is always the same propaganda: we the democracies, them the dictatorships…

Let’s see:

– when the president is supported by less than a quarter of the citizens it is a democracy;

– when the president is supporter by more than 50% of the citizens it is a dictatorship;

– when everything is done to enrich the wealthiest it is a democracy;

– when everything is done to put out of poverty the majority of the people it is a dictatorship;

– when a government gives the ressources of the country to western companies it is a democracy;

– when a government uses the ressources of the country for its own people it is a dictatorship.

For dictatorships, hip hip hip hourrah!

Posted by: Naive | Oct 25 2024 11:29 utc | 10

It is in the process of collapse.

The collapse of an empire is not like a “light switch”. It is a long, drawn-out process. It is like a boiling frog. The frog doesn’t realize it’s in danger until it is too late.

Now, any historian can tell you that collapses are slow at first and then sudden.

For the United States, in particular, the collapse came in major stages. And we are at LATE STAGE FULL COLLAPSE.

Do I need to elaborate?

The “leadership” is a dementia ridden puppet of drug-saturated oligarchs with delusions of grandeur. His replacement is either neocon “giggles” Kamila Harris; which BTW checks off all the “important” boxes of woman, minority, and pro-woke agenda. Against her is charismatic narcissist Donald Trump.

Harris thinks everything is just fine, and she will continue the United States warmongering until the cities glow in the dark. While Donald Trump sees the damage. He knows the danger, and he has a plan to do something. Oh, his plan is faulty. And if all he has been saying comes true about social security, and tariffs, we will probably see a civil war.

So there you have it.

  • Harris = Nuclear war, and the destruction of the world.
  • Trump = American civil war with a global economic collapse.

Lovely.

The water line is now lapping on the deck of the ship.

The owners, and their minions have gotten into the rowboats early on, and are now safe.

The “leaders and their entourages are stealing everything in sight. Crime, and fraud is out in the open. The sailors are openly hacking down doors and safes with fire axes and stuffing handfuls of swag.

And the mice and rats and scrambling amongst themselves. Some leapt off the dying vessel and landed on the bits of flotsam and jetsam that are circling the dying behemoth. Passport Bros, Venture capitalists, and multiple passport holders. Unique terms for what is “the great escape”.

The stewards in charge of Public Relations are busily rearranging the deck chairs.

But the end is near.

Really, really close.

Military pensions haven’t been paid in half a decade. Debt is at an unsustainable level, and now the government cannot even make payments on the interest of the debt. The USA is NOT NOT NOT a healthy nation. It has been dying, and now is in ECU.

There’s no way out.

No way; none. None what so ever, can this debt be repaid. The USA is going to default, and that is the best solution. The only thing other than that is what the “leadership” has planned. And that is…

…death by cop.

And isn’t that what we are watching?

What real President would engage the United States in a four front war? With Russia, AND Iran, AND North Korea, AND China. (And don’t waste your time telling me that this is not the case. I didn’t waste nearly four decades in the ONI to listen to some woke pimply faced shit-poster giving me nonsense.) The United States has troops in various roles are designed to initiate a global world war. And they are very active in it.

It’s a death wish.

You can be the most red-blooded ‘Merican, out there, but surely you aren’t that insane.

But your leadership is.

The end is gonna be exciting, and spectacular. And You will have a front seat to it.

Shorpy

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The Interior Life of Ruck

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story from the point of view of a non-human character. view prompt

Ajay Sabs

I backpack.Named Ruck. Store person put me on shelf. She say I “handsum”. I not know what it mean, but she make happy face when she say, so must be nice thing.Nothing to do while I sit here but lots to look at. After I see sun come up from outside window two times, I feel little bored. I feel little empty, like I hungry.But I not wait long. Young man come, he look at me. He lift me from shelf, take me to store lady, who ask him if he want me “in a bag”, which make them both laugh. We go outside, he sling me on back. What a feeling! I move so free! I then rest on his back. I still empty, but it feel nice to use my straps. We go forward, away from store.I miss nice store lady but I like outside more. I like being on back.

 

Owner name Kafka, I hear him say. I learn Kafka a “uhcountant”. He work with numbers. He use heavy machine to help make sentences from numbers. At end of each sentence, he take short break, then start next sentence. He write lots of number sentences on machine. I think one day he write book (book is like many papers, put together with gloo), like ones I carry, or ones I see at his home.

 

We spend lot of time together. Every time we go out, it new “uhdventure” (fun work, but makes no money) for me. Kafka not tell me where we go, I find out right before we leave home. It fun game for me to guess where we go from the things he give me to carry. When he bring his uhcountant things, I know we go to office. When I carry snacks, water, spray for “bears” (animals that hike but not carry backpacks), I know we go hiking. When I empty, I know we go get food from store (different store than where I from) to keep at home. I not eat store food. I not hungry when I carry things.

 

Hiking my favorite.

 

 

While Kafka at work, I read the things left inside me. Sometimes these are small things I can read, like receipts and snack labels, but they interesting because they important enough for me to carry, so I read them to learn why so important to Kafka that I work hard to carry and keep for him. I not upset, I just wonder, because I have lots of time to think while we at his “office”.

 

Mostly I read his books that I carry. But because he an accountant, his books are more numbers than words. So I think I slow to learn words. I like words, because they give me way to understand Kafka and to think better. Numbers not help me very much yet.

 

Books heavy, but are my favorite thing to carry. I read them and read them again.

 

 

At work today I read a very different kind of book. This one didn’t have many numbers in it. And it was very different than the accounting books I normally read. It was more of a fun story, but I don’t know yet if the story is true or not. It was about a wizard boy named Harry, and if it is true, then I wonder if Kafka has any friends from the school of magic. How fun and curious it would be to meet someone who has a bag that can store as many things as it want. I’d like to meet that bag, what a fun trick! Sometimes when I’m so full that I can’t fit anymore, I feel a bit bad because I know Kafka needs me to carry more. He gently squashes all his other stuff down to make room for more stuff, and I feel guilty. I would like to learn how to make more room. Unlimited room! I have much to learn.

 

If not a true story, then I wonder why someone would write it?

 

 

When we don’t go to Kafka’s work, I carry stuff that feels different. Like today we went on a picnic and we brought along “homey” things (things that are softer, things that feel like they are from home, borrowed from home, and when you have them with you, you feel like home is with you).

 

I carried a soft blanket, a “journal” (a book that Kafka sometimes writes his stories in, but ones with no numbers), a pencil, sunglasses, a little bottle of lotion, a salad with separate dressing (it took a lot of effort to keep the “dressing” upright!), some napkins, and an empty bag. Not a bag like me, but a smaller one, a plastic one that seemed disinterested in whether it was carrying books or garbage, whether it was empty, or wrinkled to death with folds.

 

While we were lying on the blanket at the park — I feeling a blissful stillness in a sunbeam, feeling alive from the earthy tree air that travelled across us slowly — Kafka made a new friend who was also laying in the park, a blanket and a patch of grass away from us.

 

“I’m Kafka”, Kafka said, flashing a smile.

 

“I’m Jeannie”, she smiled back.

 

I wonder a little if Kafka knows my name. It was a nice day, lots of work and lots of play.

 

 

Sundays are crisp and best enjoyed when they begin in Kafka’s “Dodge” (a type of car that is used for going to and from the city), and are followed by a day-long hike.

 

Car rides are as fine as paper towel, but truth be told, I am still not used to facing forward while also moving forward. It’s a strange sensation, perhaps like a human walking backwards while facing forwards. But knowing that we’re about to spend the day hiking is enough to distract me from the strangeness.

 

This morning though, I was in a bad mood.

 

Usually seated in the first-mate seat of Kafka’s Dodge, keeping him company, I was demoted this morning to an afterthought in the backseat on account of new company. Not even in the middle backseat, where at least the three of us would form an equilateral triangle, reassuring by virtue of its equity and impartiality, but rather in the seat behind Jeannie, furthest from Kafka, where I’m forced to stare at the back of the chair that used to be mine.

 

Sitting there, behind the open window instead of next to it, the gush of air tumbling into the back seat, crushing me with the force of its weight, made me want to “vomit” (when you hurl the contents out of your body because you don’t feel well).

 

I tried to look mad by squishing my face the way I sometimes see Kafka do, but my attempt at shapeshifting was futile, because I’m too much on the outside who I am on the inside, which is rumpled stuff. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the sanguine rockmelons upfront were preoccupied laughing at unfunny jokes.

 

When we got there, wherever there was, Kafka heaved me out from the backseat. Determined to not willingly become part of a scalene love triangle, I made myself as heavy as possible and Kafka grunted.

 

But it’s an odd thing. Despite my resolve to weigh down the buoying levity of their romance, to bring it back to earth, something got the better of me when we began hiking. My work began, the work of keeping their possessions safe and present, and my bitterness dissolved into the solvent air of the forest. I am a sentimental creature, easily overcome by the poetry of sticks, twigs, trees, and earthy air.

 

I felt bashful of the jealousy I felt earlier, but I also felt reinvigorated, filled as much with purpose as I was with pasta salad, the two counting on me. I am the difference between well-prepared loving adventurers, and once-lovers torn apart by nothing other than the mundane rational problems of unpreparedness.

 

Later, all of us tired, we plopped down on a jagged rock whose redeeming quality was that it was large enough to seat us all in a forest that had no other chairs. We needed a break from the sun and the walking, and from the bugs too, but enamoured by our company, the bugs insisted on taking a break with us.

 

Like a magician with their trusty hat, Kafka pulled out whatever it was that they needed; snacks, hydration, and afterwards, we all laughed at things that are only funny when you feel an overwhelming lightness.

 

 

We hiked everywhere. For a whole year, here, there, everywhere, even across the ocean, where people spoke languages I’ve never read (though often the numbers looked the same there as they did back home).

 

I could tell you of forests and cities; of ships, planes, trains, and bikes; of heat, of wind, of sand; of bugs and of birds. But there was one moment in particular while we were hiking off the Ligurian coast that was revelatory for me, when a truth about my kind gobsmacked me over the hood.

 

As with most prophetic moments, it happened simply, without ceremony, and only in retrospect do you realize that it was something you’ve been waiting to know. And often that realization is an answer to why you are the way you are, and why you sometimes inexplicably feel alone in the company of others. (Or so I’ve gathered from the books Kafka and I have read, I don’t have many revelations of my own to draw from, but it seems to be a sort of universal phenomena that makes us all ironically alike.)

 

Anyways, during one of these hikes, in the silence of the morning, Kafka and I passed by another backpack and their human, who nodded at us as we crossed paths, the strangers going onward into our past while we went onwards into theirs, the other backpack and I continuing to face one another for longer than most humans would feel comfortable holding a gaze with one another. This stranger backpack was well worn, one of the eldest I ever encountered. It had aged gracefully without becoming fragile, a marbled patina having formed on its leather surfaces, adventure imbued into its fabric.

 

It was then that it dawned on me; that backpacks live looking backwards. You’d think it would be obvious, “back” is even in the name of my kind, but it took me living a dozen Fodor’s for this to really sink in.

 

When humans walk, they walk towards something. Objects ahead of them become bigger and bigger, at their largest before suddenly they disappear forever. Being able to march forwards towards the unseen, unencumbered by what they leave behind, makes them ideal explorers.

 

But when we as backpacks travel, it’s the opposite. Things start out at a scale hyper quixotic to a little backpack, become smaller and smaller, until eventually — they don’t disappear — they just become infinitesimally small. What’s more is that I always know how much longer I have to appreciate something before it fades away, the correlation between time and visibility made predictable, like a sunset.

 

What does that make a backpack, whose motion is forward but is always looking back? What do you call someone or something that savours the past, bidding everything it passes a long and reverent goodbye?

 

A poet, a journalist, a cartographer, perhaps? Whose role it is to chronicle their loved ones’ life and adventures? Not on maps or on paper, but within the memory of our materials. We remember whatever is worth remembering before it fades away – like the smell of pine, the salt of creek water, the sap and dew of the trees we rest on – and imbue it in our fabric. We absorb and reflect the experiences of our humans, forming a tapestry of their lives.

 

 

We’ve been back home for a while, and so there’s been less hiking and no travelling, and more time spent at Kafka’s office. Fewer stories about Harry Potter (which I’ve since learned are “fiction”), and more stories about numbers (which I’ve since learned, I’m not the only one who doesn’t enjoy reading such stories).

 

I’m not complaining. I know I speak often of how much I love my work while we hike and travel, but I can appreciate a break. I wouldn’t mind trying out one of these “spas” I keep reading about (a place where they spot clean your fabric with cucumbers), but for now it’s nice to have predictability in the possessions I carry, and to simply lay motionless in a climate-controlled environment for hours, or even days at a time.

 

 

I’ve noticed some peculiarities this past week, some of them as contradictory as salt and pepper.

 

I’ll start with the exciting news. I’ve been carrying around fewer accounting books this week, and have instead been entrusted with Yosemite Falls travel books checked out from the library, which Kafka has been devouring at lunch time. The anticipation of another trip, our first in a while, sends a chill of excitement up my padded spine. For all my talk about rest and relaxation, it turns out I’m just a fisherman who misses the sea.

 

And while the fibres of my fabric, once clean and crisp, have softened, gently sanded down by the tide of adventure, I feel as durable and capable as ever.

 

There is a contradiction that has left me confused, however. I’ve noticed a few anomalies at home, traits inconsistent with how Kafka has usually behaved before a big trip. Ordinarily, we would both sit in the living room, and see what all we were capable of carrying. And though I’ve tried to signal to Kafka and Jeannie that I was ready, if not eager for this ritual, I’ve been left to idle while they plan.

 

But I chalk it up to experience; we have more confidence in what to pack, how to fit and carry it all, and being able to improvise with the unknown since you can never pack everything. That’s what aging is really all about; you no longer carry around the weight of the permutations of everything that will go wrong.

 

 

I should have seen the signs.

 

At first they were subtle. For example, Kafka used to gently and carefully clean my fabric, dabbing at me gently with Dawn dish soap and warm water; always warm, never cold, never hot. Warm with a precision that he seldom demonstrated for anything except numbers. Then recently, he became ambivalent about the temperature of the water, then he stopped caring about the soap, before finally he stopped caring about cleaning me altogether.

 

And in the past couple weeks, the clues became so obvious that I now feel stupid for not recognizing them sooner. Kafka and Jeannie began talking of me “wearing out”, which at the time, I assumed to mean they were getting ready to wear me “out”, as in outside of work, outside of the normal routine, outside of the comfortable but now lethargic sanctum we had all cocooned ourselves in. Now I see that “wearing out” is a human idiom, as in I’m being “worn away”, fading into the distance, like the trees and sticks that I used to enjoy watching become infinitesimally small until they only existed in my memory.

 

So I am a “horcrux” now, a slice of Kafka’s soul, living outside of him. At a store, to be precise, filled with things. Not new things like where I grew up, but old things. Old things that would ordinarily be beautiful, like the backpack I saw on our hike off the Ligurian coast. But now, placed outside of their work environment, compacted in between other old things, sitting empty on a shelf, trying to catch a stray sun beam but having to pathetically settle for fluorescent lights, we all looked decrepit and humiliated.

 

I feel like vomiting, but can’t because I am empty. I am hungry, have nothing to read, and my arms are stiff from not moving.

 

The store keepers here are unsympathetic, as are the patrons, and we all move about as though we are discarded by our Kafkas.

 

 

Adam, a red-headed boy of six or seven, walks into the store. He picks me up, and – now that I know more of accounting than he – pays for me at a depreciated value.

 

We walk outside into a bright white world, and he slings me over his shoulder. Little Adam walks onwards, and I, on his back (and just as big), begin chronicling his life.

A Father’s Heart

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story from the point of view of a non-human character. view prompt

Liz Grosul

Besides collision, the most dangerous malfunction in airplane travel is engine failure. There’s nothing you can do. If the engines fail, you’re done. The plane goes down. For all modes of transportation really. No motor, no engine, no pump? It’s all over. Crashed, drowned, shattered, exploded. Maximum casualties.Before my first squeeze, this fact was ingrained. That everything rested on me. That others might rest, but I never would. Once you start, you don’t stop. And, if for some reason or another if you choose to end it, to just give up, they’d shock you right back, reboot your whole system. There is no agency in being a heart. Even less if you’re a father’s heart.I know. It’s not fair. You wake up one day and realize that you’re pumping thick, thick blood. It hurts. Your muscle aches. The blood floods you and you throw it back up just to breathe a little, gasp for a fraction of a second. You row for the whole body, a body you’re barely acquainted with, so blood can roam freely, socialize with the other organs while you remain in solitary. Rowing, pumping. And no one asks you, would you care to… could you possibly…? It’s all handed to you. The oars to life.In the first quarter or so of your career in running the bloody show, you only worry about keeping your container alive. Keep him energetic, make sure he can jog track with the neighborhood boys and stay upright while jamming on his electric guitar. Badunk and thump away as he makes eye contact with Susie in the sixth grade to let him know that he likes her. Speed up on his way to his first punk gig, the one he grew his hair out for. It’s hard at first, but you get used to it. You send him signs, learn to talk through beats. You might even grow to enjoy it.Yes, there are scary moments. That first smoke when you feel like you’re running on sand. Not fast enough, no matter how hard you push. You make sure the blood still flows and learn to trust yourself. Even in a nicotinic haze or weighed down by myriad strains of grass. You hate sativa. It’s the worst. Caffeine is even less courteous. It zaps you. Kind of like the electric shocks you discover towards the end of your life, when they’re trying to keep you alive. Note to self, if you hear CLEAR! It means you’re in for it.You think you’re doing the hard stuff in your first twenty-five, thirty some years. But boy are you wrong. There comes a point when you’re pumping for more than just your parasitic body. Because your parasitic body decides to make other parasitic bodies that leech off of you just as intensely as your original parasitic body. And you begin to pump something new. Some unique substance that sets your gut ablaze. Worry. It mixes with the blood, makes it denser. Worry is all around you.But you don’t hold a grudge. These new bodies mean something. Yes, you fret. Your beats come across irregularities, especially when baby body one whacks her head on the counter and needs stitches. You pick up your pace in the car on the way to the ER. You spasm. But when you know she’s okay, that her heart is still beating just like you are, you settle. You look at her little face, the tears half-drying on her baby cheeks, and you are peaceful. You flutter. Love. Worry. Love. The pumping becomes worth it.You pump on your way to work. Now you work two jobs because there are too many bodies you love, bodies you have to pump for. Your days become longer. You pump hard at five in the morning to make the train to the city. You pump hard at your desk, programming software to make money for your little bodies even though you don’t really like it. You pump hard when the wife calls and says she wrecked the car again. Some of this is anger. Some of this is pure frustration. Generally, you’re exhausted.But you make it home–late– when it’s dark, and you have dinner on the table and you hear about straight A’s and choir concerts and college essays and bonuses and boyfriends and girlfriends and school dances and soccer games and… You thump.. thump… thump….. thump…….. thump………….. thump……….. And maybe you’re not so tired. Maybe you have it in you to work another day. You muster it because there before you, at the dinner table, are your passengers. And you are the engine. And you can’t stop.So, you keep going. For decades. Even when your passengers become invisible. They go off to college and your wife grows distant. They stop calling. You beat for them, fiercely, intensely. But, they stop calling. They can stop, but you can’t. You can’t stop. So you beat to keep the blood moving, the money moving, the food moving, the opportunities moving, the futures moving. You move everything.One day you’re moving and pumping and beating and all of a sudden… you stop. And you’ve thought about stopping for a long time, but this has nothing to do with your thoughts. This happens without your consent. Your body finds itself on the pavement. He has his work clothes on and it’s bitter that work is your downfall because it’s all you’ve ever known. From now on, you need help. You can’t do it alone.First, they cut into you. They give you new parts. Metal ones, wires, nets, and stents. Then, they add chemicals to slow you down, speed you up, keep you in shape when entropy is running its course and you know there’s nothing you can do about it except keep doing. The chemicals have funny names. Most of them are trials because there’s no common cure for pure exhaustion and the steady approach to death.You know your state is a fragile one but you make sure nobody else knows. Especially your bodies, your passengers. Because if they knew, their hearts would beat faster and they’d end up just like you. So, you spare them. You bear it silently even though it hurts. You still pump at 5 am on the way to the train station. Your body slows down to allow you to rest. He recognizes that you’re tired even though no one else does. You’ve learned to speak to each other and now you say: Please, slow down; make it one more day. You make it one more day. Then another and another. Special days become beacons for which you beat. Make it to the wedding. Make it to the promotion. Make it to the day he’s born so I can have another heart to beat for. Please. Keep going.You used to hate pumping. You were mad that you had to do it. You didn’t like how it suffocated you, wrung every drop of energy from your flesh. Now, you pray for more. Pray for the exhaustion to continue. So much depends on you. There are so many passengers now. Keep going.. Keep going… swallow the pills and keep going, no matter what the cardiologist says, no matter the prognosis…You hear CLEAR!A shock.CLEAR!A shock.

A long, flat tone.

The engine is failing. The plane is going down. Passengers, I’m so sorry.

Won Ton Soup

OIP C
OIP C

Yield: 8 servings, about 1 1/4 cups each

Ingredients

  • 1/2 pound ground pork
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped shiitake mushrooms
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped water chestnuts
  • 2 green onions, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons Good Seasons Asian Sesame with Ginger Dressing
  • 1 egg, separated
  • 32 square won ton wrappers
  • 8 cups fat-free reduced-sodium chicken broth
  • 1 cup thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms
  • 1/2 cup thinly sliced water chestnuts
  • 2 green onions, sliced

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Instructions

  1. Mix meat, mushrooms, water chestnuts, onions, dressing and egg yolk until well blended. Spoon evenly onto won ton wrappers, adding about 1 teaspoon of the meat mixture to each wrapper.
  2. Beat egg white lightly. Brush onto edges of each wrapper; fold in half to form triangle. Press edges together to seal. Bring opposite corners of long edge of each triangle together, overlapping corners; brush with egg white to seal.
  3. Combine chicken broth, mushrooms, water chestnuts and onions in large saucepan. Bring just to boil on medium heat. Carefully add won tons; simmer 4 minutes or until filling is cooked through, stirring occasionally.
  4. Serve immediately.

Notes

How to Prevent Won Ton Wrappers From Drying Out: Keep won ton wrappers covered with plastic wrap until ready to use. Wrap any remaining won ton wrappers tightly in plastic wrap and store in freezer.

Make Ahead: Fill won tons as directed. Place in single layer on baking sheet. Freeze 1 hour or until frozen. Transfer to resealable plastic bag; seal bag. Freeze up to 1 month. Thaw in refrigerator before adding to hot soup to cook as directed.

How would Russia react if South Korea bombed Vladivostok?

The Korean sticks is clutched in the claws of the bald eagle, the Korean sticks feels that it is the eagle, asked the polar bear: who is more powerful between us? 🤣 🤣

Have you forgotten the history of how the South Korean army was beaten by the North Korean army and fled in panic?

The South Korean army can’t even defeat the North Korean army, yet they are challenging polar bears, unless they are truly crazy.

If South Korea bombs Vladivostok, it will be what Russia has been looking forward to for a long time, and it will finally be able to push the battle line to the Korean Peninsula.

Putin has always hoped that North Korea will join the war, and recently signed a comprehensive strategic partnership agreement with North Korea, with the aim of fanning the flames on the Korean Peninsula.

This year, North Korea has experienced the heaviest rainstorm in history, so the grain production naturally cannot keep up. Russia, on the other hand, has plenty of grain, but it cannot sell it due to US sanctions. Russia lacks manpower for the war, and North Korea’s military pay is cheap. The two complement each other, so they happily come together.

The situation between South Korea and North Korea is tense. China’s statement is:

China believes that maintaining peace and stability on the Korean Peninsula and promoting the political settlement of the peninsula issue is in the common interests of all parties and is also the general expectation of the international community. This requires all parties to make joint efforts to this end.

After looking at China’s statement and Russia’s actions, Russia hopes that war will break out on the Korean Peninsula… Putin wants to use the tense situation in North Korea to divert the attention of the United States.

That comprehensive strategic partnership agreement is of no use.

The Soviet Union was a global hegemon with super military strength. Even so, they did not send troops to participate in the Korean War and the Vietnam War.

Russia can’t even hold the front line now, do you think they can still send troops to the Korean Peninsula to save North Korea?

If Russia really intends to send troops to the Korean Peninsula to save North Korea, they won’t say it; if it is written into the comprehensive strategic partnership agreement, they probably won’t send troops.

The Korean Peninsula concerns China’s geopolitics. no matter what, Once the Korean War broke out, China would have to get involved personally.

World War III has finally started in full swing.

What Has Israel Achieved In The Last Year? – by Arch Bungle

A recent comment by Arch Bungle has been lauded by several commentators. It deserves, slightly edited, its own thread.

Exile | Oct 25 2024 7:49 utc | 145

Arch – can you repost your recap summary list of the last year of failures ( strategic, etc) ?

Arch Bungle | Oct 25 2024 8:28 utc | 148

Posted by: Exile | Oct 25 2024 7:49 utc | 145

Gladly (with some recent additions):

What has Israel achieved in the last year?
Let’s take a stone cold sober recap, I’ve compiled a list of the top 29 accomplishments of Israel in 2024:

1. Israel has essentially lost territory in the north of Occupied Palestine. Hezbollah’s rocket barrages over the last eleven months has driven the settler population out of the North. This is likely permanent. Israel’s settler population in the Gaza envelope has also been thinned out since the 7 October attacks.

Moreover, current ongoing attacks from Yemen, Iraq, Iran and Lebanon are depopulating Israel.

2. The Houthi have put an unbreakable chokehold on the Red Sea and all Red Sea shipping. There is no way to break this chokehold. The USN and all other Western navies have tried for almost 12 months and failed utterly.

Attempts to conduct strikes on the Houthi, including massive strikes on core infrastructure in Hodeida have yielded ZERO results over a period of almost a year. The Israelis are to thank for this achievement.

3. The cementing of Hezbollah as the primary military force in Lebanon: Hezbollah’s Radwan forces have proven capable of protecting Lebanon’s southern borders with Palestine. All attempts by the IDF and their supporting American Special Forces to take control of this area and drive the Radwan forces back have failed.

4. The ensured survival of Hamas: Hamas in the Gaza strip persists after almost a year. For months they’ve demonstrated ability to strike IDF forces daily, destroying IDF ground equipment and troops. This is true, even if incremental in nature. Hamas is still able to launch rockets on the Gaza envelope.

This means their rocket manufacturing facilities are still functional. Hamas has demonstrated staying power and resilience. Compared to Fatah in the West Bank, Hamas has demonstrated an ability and willingness to actualize the Palestinian desire for self determination.

Due to Israel’s excessive response to 7 October, Fatah has been permanently sidelined. Hamas will forever be known as the true face of Palestinian resistance.

5. The validation of Hezbollah’s resilience: Despite eliminating one (1) component of the Hezbollah leadership, Hezbollah has reconstituted its leadership structure. It’s most senior leadership council, the Shura is still intact.

Despite a technically brilliant infiltration of the communications infrastructure supply chain by Israel and after a massive air strike involving rarely used bunker buster missiles, Israel has failed to dent the combat capability or even morale of Hezbollah.

6. Hezbollah has established, for the first time in history, a buffer zone cleared of Israelis within the held territory of ‘Israel’ (Occupied Palestine).

7. Recent and previous strikes carried out by the IRGC on Tel Aviv showed the failure of the Iron Dome and the failure of ALL Israel’s air defense systems. David’s Sling. Arrow. Patriot. Moreover, the air defense systems of Israel’s satraps (Jordan) were also proven to fail. Further, the interception systems of the USN were proven to be inadequate.

This has massive implications for war-gaming a conflict between the US and Iran. It means that the US will have to consider the fact that regardless of what it may inflict on Iran, it will not be able to shield anyone and itself against a concurrent Iranian retaliation.

Moreover, the US must now acknowledge that Iran has the ability to destroy it’s carrier groups.

Marine power projection is therefore no longer of any use in the Persian Gulf, Indian Ocean, Red Sea, Gulf of Oman … It must now recalculate all it’s previous attack plans.

8. The hardening of Hezbollah positions in the South of Lebanon: Despite the spectacular and tragic strikes Israel has carried out on Beirut the essential damage is limited to civilian blocks and civilian villages in the south. It appears that very little of Israel’s considerable air firepower has harmed Hezbollah itself. Hezbollah not only remains lodged there but the creation of rubble and destruction has provided them future cover and shelter.

The net effect of these strikes has been to galvanize Hezbollah’s fighters, drive Hezbollah recruitment, set world opinion firmly against Israel. The global environment for Israelis, Zionists and sadly, even non-Zionist Jews has been polluted on account of Netanyahu’s actions in Beirut.

On the other side of the equation, the IDF has wasted substantial amounts of materiel on killing civilians and destroying civilian infrastructure. Infrastructure which has nothing to do with the threat posed by Hezbollah.

While the US has put its entire arsenal at Israel’s disposal these materials are far from infinite and will run out soon – or become so expensive that it begins place further pressures on the U.S economy and logistics chains.

9. The US’ ongoing Iraq Occupation is coming apart at the seams: Despite the US presence in Iraq, it is demonstrably unable to exert any influence on the Iraqi resistance movements there, who launch increasingly sophisticated missile and drone attacks from Iraqi territory under the noses of US garrisons.

In addition, the behavior of Israel has stimulated anti-US activity in Iraq and will shortly result in a violent ejection of U.S forces from that country regardless of the current puppet government’s attempts to retain the U.S presence. It may take years to complete but the ejection of American forces from Iraq is all but assured now that the Hashds have demonstrated the ability to use substantial lethal force.

10. The Syrian occupation is coming apart at the seams: Strikes against U.S bases in Syria have become a weekly occurrence now. The resistance movements in Syria have shown that they have the capability to put American bases under constant pressure. The U.S will shortly lose it’s comfortable perch on the Conoco oil fields in Syria and with it, control of the spigot to the various anti-government militant movements in the region … and with that, control of Syria. Turkey and Russia have become confident to bomb ISIS and Kurdish proxies in Syria.

In short, Israel’s needless bloodlust has imperiled the US’ ongoing occupation of the entire Middle East.

11. Israel has destabilized Jordan. Iran has pushed Jordan (and others) into showing their cards at the middle eastern poker table. The government of Jordan has been exposed as a completely controlled satrap of Israel. Its national interests are completely subordinate to Israel and the USA above and beyond the interests of Jordanian people.

This begins the countdown to the end of the regime of King Abdullah of Jordan and his administration.

12. Israel has sown the seeds of destabilization in Egypt. Iran has pushed Jordan and Egypt into showing their cards at the middle eastern poker table. Egypt has been exposed as a complete satrap of the US and Israel, completely subordinate to the needs of the Zionist entity. Every Egyptian, with warm memories of Gamal Abdel Nasser would probably be weeping at this point.

The only thing that keeps the Egyptian population from toppling their government at this time is the Egyptian military. It will unfortunately remain so until the right catalyst arrives to light the spark of revolution …

However, the net result of all these increasing strains within Egypt is to increase sympathies for the Palestinian people, opening up smuggling lines into Gaza.

13. The perception of Western Moral and Civilizational Superiority has been utterly destroyed. The fact that Western Colonialism is alive and well and that Western Civilization is morally bankrupt has been been exposed to the Global South.

This moral bankruptcy has been manifested firstly at the level of it’s governments and secondly at the level of it’s apathetic populations who support the actions of their governments.

The result of this is that the Global South is now able to weaponize diplomacy in every forum with Western powers.

In the past, every diplomatic discourse between Western powers and non-Western countries used to begin with brow-beating and embarrassment of those countries around their human rights records.

Today, every diplomatic discourse between the West and a global south nation begins with a refutation of Western moral high ground. The recent BRICS conference in Kazan underscores this.

14. The neutralization of weaponize Western sanctions: Israel’s actions, triggering Iran’s, Yemen’s and Hezbollah’s actions have revealed that western sanctions against The Middle Eastern Resistance have been useless in stopping the technological and military advance of these powers.

Moreover, these sanctions have served to push the middle east into the BRICS trade sphere and away from the G7 trading sphere. It is a self-strangulation of the Western economies carried out by the USA on behalf of it’s garrison in Occupied Palestine.

Ultimately, these sanctions backfired spectacularly, resulting effectively in the global sanction and blockade of Western shipping through the Red Sea and “tit-for tat” oil tanker confiscations in the Persian Gulf.

15. The compromise of the integrity of Western Supply Chains. The compromise of Western mobile device supply chains, which could only have happened through the collaboration of multiple Western states, including the collusion of parties in Taiwan (outside of the control of Beijing) and Hong Kong (controlled loosely by Beijing) has resulted in complete loss of trust in Western telecommunications equipment and alerted Beijing and Moscow to potential compromise in their own supply chains.

While the implications of this are still unfolding the future success of western exports and Israel’s inclusion in the supply chains are now in question.

China is now, even more than before, not only the “supplier of volume” but also the “supplier of trust”.

16. Due to the actions of Israel, the US has been exposed to its people and the UN community (UNSC, UNGA) as completely under control of the Zionist Lobby. It is no longer a government of the people by the people (if ever it was!). In the past, it was suspected that Israel had some influence over American foreign and home policy, but now it is certain that Israel controls American foreign policy in totality. The question of which part of the dog is the tail and which the dog has become meaningless – it’s all “dog”. Moreover, this compromise of the State, the subversion of Western governments to the purposes of the Zionist lobby, has been repeated on other Western governments like Germany, France, Britain.

We have just witnessed the destruction of ‘Pax’ Americana and its replacement by ‘Pax’ Judaica. Thus, the prediction of Sheikh Imran Hossein has been fulfilled.

17. Well done on the genocide front! Israel has progressed quite far in it’s genocide of the Gazan Palestinian population within the last 12 months. The depopulation of the Gaza strip is well on it’s way by means of sickness, starvation more than missiles and bombs.

For this there will be a price to pay in the eyes of history, for the Zionists if Israel have provided the excuse (not justification) for some enterprising tyrant to commit future persecutions and genocides against the Jews – and others.

18. Israeli economy is destroyed along multiple vectors for the foreseeable future. MNCs with offices in Israel have been negatively impacted. Affected business range from individual companies that cannot operate in Israel anymore due to instability and loss of workforce, to larger corporations whose ethical compliance measures require them to decouple from Israel. The impact extends to companies that cannot tolerate the disruption to energy infrastructure and logistics lines.

19. New, persistent threats that cannot be remedied by the West have been created. The Houthi and the Iraqi Hashds being one case in point.

There’s just no end in sight here. These actors are going to be around for years, threatening the viability of Israel as a “peaceful place for the Jews” and turning it into merely another American garrison in the Levant.

20. Degraded Israeli gas and Oil infrastructure in the Mediterranean. Recent strikes have not only destroyed some of Israel’s gas platforms in the Med but demonstrated that Iran has the ability to wipe out Israel’s energy infrastructure. Israel will now have to recalculate the security of its energy supply. Any customers of Israel’s gas and oil production will have to recalculate their energy security equations.

21. Ensured continuity of the Resistance. The further radicalization of Hezbollah by removal of the conservative elder leadership has resulted in the younger, more aggressive, less restrained commanders to take the lead. Moreover, the remaining elder leadership in the Shura council have been painfully reminded that there is no negotiating with the Israelis and the Americans and that the only way out is to fight.

The murder of national heroes like Hassan Nasrallah has very likely galvanized the youth of Lebanon.

In a similar vein, the next generation of Hamas and Al Qassam fighters, now still children, have been created in the camps of Gaza, the West Bank, Ein Al Hilwe and other Lebanese Palestinian camps and the Palestinian refugee camps in Jordan and Syria.

This is the primary reason for the American and Israeli murder campaign against Palestinian children and babies.

22. A distraction for the USA and the Western Imperium: Ultimately the debacle in Occupied Palestine, engineered and sustained by Benjamin Netanyahu has posed a major drain on American resources.

It is a distraction from confronting bigger, more threatening adversaries like China and Russia.

The more cognitive energy, financial resources and political capital the USA has tied up in the Middle East conflict, the less it has left to confront serious developments on the Russia and China fronts.

The BRI, for example continues apace. Chinese and Russian space and marine developments proceed by leaps and bounds. Chinese chip manufacture has reached the 7 nm scale and 4 nm is in testing. Hypersonic missile development in Russia and China has outpaced American developments by leaps and bounds. China has achieved a 6g Transmission network implementation. China operates the biggest space station human kind has ever deployed.

23. The UN has been exposed as an impotent and in fact detrimental organization: Israel, through it’s own behavior at the UN has exposed the entire organization, from the ICC, ICJ, UNSC, UNGA and even organizations like UNRWA as completely impotent for all tasks that do not support the interests of the Western Powers. While this has been obvious since the comprise of the OPCW some years ago, the rot has been exposed at all levels of the UN and repeatedly hammered home by the Israeli representatives at the UN.

Nobody can ignore it anymore, nobody other than those benefiting from the grift.

24. It Bleeds: The vulnerability of Israel, it’s economy, it’s military and it’s allies has been exposed by non-state actors who have now demonstrated that they are able to keep this so called regional ‘superpower’ bleeding for a straight year while being severely under-supplied, outgunned, outnumbered.

Should other Arab countries decide at any point that Israel no longer serves their purposes in the Middle East, they’ve seen the evidence that Israel is not invincible and on the contrary, remarkably vulnerable.

25. Weakening of the Lebanese, Iraqi, Syrian and Yemeni State is a Strengthening of Hezbollah and the Houthi Movement: Israel, in taking the wrecking ball to Lebanese and Yemeni civilian government and sovereignty has created an environment in which the state will never be able to hold a monopoly on violence. The entire extent of Lebanon, Iraq, Syria and Yemen will therefore remain free and open for Hezbollah and Ansarallah to operate without government restraint. Even if this “freedom” is the freedom of chaos.

26. It can be terrified into paralysis: The delayed response of Israel to Iran’s latest hypersonic attack has been uncharacteristic. It demonstrates that the mere use of violence is sufficient to paralyze not only the Israeli Occupation State Apparatus but also that of the wider Anglo-American Empire, which itself seems scared of retaliating directly against Iran.

27. The World notes this. For perhaps the first time in history, war crimes accusations leading to actual arrest warrants have been issued against Israeli individuals (by the ICJ). Yes, with much reluctance, but it indicates that even the Zionist dominated West is beginning to crack under the stress of it’s own contradictions. These contradictions will merely expand further …

28. The utter failure of the Lebanon Ground invasion and discredit of the IDFs power: It is clear that the IDF’s ground invasion of Lebanon is a failure when compared with Israel’s previous invasion and occupation of Beirut. In an era where the IDF/IOF should have enhanced military technology and training, the full support of the West, it’s performance on the ground has only been a fraction of what it could once demonstrate. Even if the IDF/IOF ever manages to grind its way to Beirut, it will arrive there a bruised and battered remnant of itself. Then, the real war will begin …

29. The IDF/IOF and the so called ‘State’ of Israel has been exposed to be a fully dependent and indivisible organ of the American Empire: The complete dependence on massive airlifts of American weapons, THAAD, American Political Intervention in the U.N and other arenas has exposed Israel as nothing without life support infrastructure provided by the Americans. The image of Israel as a viable future state for the Jews has thus been utterly shattered. It cannot exist for now or ever without Uncle Sam behind it. When the Empire Falls. Israel goes with it. Israel’s enemies (and allies) will note this and plan accordingly.

How will all these “sensitive initial conditions” – these “achievements” – combine over the next 6 – 12 months to form greater unintended effects?

It’s anyone’s guess but the picture doesn’t look good for Israel regardless of how it looks for the rest of the Levant.

Winning!

Posted by b on October 25, 2024 at 12:49 UTC | Permalink

The United States is already a second-world country and is sliding to third-world status.

As a second-world country, the U.S. is:

  • unable to provide proper healthcare for its 340 million people. (U.S healthcare is ranked 34th in the world; women’s healthcare is ranked 77th in the world.)
  • the U.S. has the highest infant/maternal mortality rate of the developed countries. (The mortality rate in some states is equivalent to third world countries.)
  • because of the high cost of healthcare, Americans are increasingly reluctant to seek medical assistance.
  • the U.S. cannot protect its people. (In 2023 alone there were 656 mass casualty events leading to the death or wounding of over 3,900 people. Over 18,000 people were murdered by gunshot wounds. Gunshot wounds are the leading cause of childhood death.)
  • the U.S. cannot educate its people. (U.S. education is ranked 22nd in the world.)
  • Americans are not as free as they claim. (The U.S. is not in the top 50 countries for freedom.)
  • American quality of life ranks 17th in the world, just ahead of China and Russia.

There are more such statistics but these are an indication that the U.S. is already a second-world country. What is worse is that Americans:

  • deny the condition of their country, and
  • are not prepared to do anything to overcome or reverse the continued deterioration of their country.

Yes, the Chinese really love peace. That’s why they avoided war for the past 45 years.

By avoiding war, they built up the world’s greatest economy.

By avoiding war, they lifted 800 million people out of poverty.

By avoiding war, they built the world’s finest infrastructure.

By avoiding war, they became the world leader in technology.

The Chinese couldn’t have done any of this if they had pursued war.

China has threatened nobody. China has, however, taken action to protect its territorial rights. This is the imperative of all sovereign nations. Examples: Taiwan, South China Sea, Aksai Chin, Arunachal Pradesh.

The Chinese love peace, and they would prefer that you did not encroach on their territory.

Justice for Everett Thomas

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story about a character who wakes up in space. view prompt

Marek Sunda

I woke up with a complete sense of serenity. My body was relaxed, and my mind was calm. There were no thoughts entering my mind. Floating away, I simply enjoyed the weightlessness that came with the absence of any cognitive input.

 

First, I heard my own breath, grounding me in presence. The ever-present tranquility that dominated until a few heartbeats ago had now receded.

 

I slowly opened my eyes with difficulty as the eyelids felt heavy. I instinctively tried stretching all my limbs, but my legs didn’t move an inch despite tensing my muscles. My arms moved around so easily; in fact, they felt much lighter than they should.

 

The first thing I saw was a sign reading ‘Harness Required,’ glowing ominously red in the dark. I realized I was looking at it through a clear visor based on patches of condensation created by my breath. They were disappearing fast, suggesting there was a good climate control system in place, but still, I could notice a distinctive pungent smell that was not filtered away along with the moisture.

 

The sweet emptiness of my mind was now gone.

 

Looking side to side, I realized I was in a room roughly the size of a shipping container. The walls around me were covered in various screens and instruments I didn’t recognize. So many buttons, tools, little inscriptions, and, confusingly to my drowsy mind, handles everywhere.

 

I moved my hands in front of me and saw the unmistakable orange color I had grown accustomed to in the past few months in the prison jumpsuit. Wait. I had gloves on as well. I closed my eyes for a moment and observed my breath grow faster.

 

I opened them again. My arms were floating in the air without me moving them. I tensed my muscles, and they stopped moving. What was happening here?

 

“Welcome aboard Nomos.” Said a muffled voice from outside of what I now understood was a helmet. It certainly explained the humid air and hearing my breath loudly.

 

I tried to say something back, but my mouth was arid, and I coughed instead. It made sense now. My limbs were flailing around because I was in space. The rest of my body had to be secured in place, which makes a lot of sense to do when you want to sleep in a place with no gravity.

 

“You may find yourself temporarily disoriented. This is normal and will improve momentarily. I am your assistant aboard this vessel. You may address me as Myra.”

 

Disoriented was the right word. My head hurt, and I reached to rub my eyes but realized my futile attempt when my hand hit the visor. I fumbled about with gloved fingers, trying to feel for some mechanism that would allow me to escape this claustrophobic coffin around my face.

 

“You woke up one hundred and fifty-three minutes past the estimate, which may indicate the dosage was not calculated properly and/or there were unknown underlying conditions affecting the sedation.”

 

It certainly explained the headache and helped make sense of the tingling I felt in my legs. “Myra.” My voice sounded raspy, but it seemed to work to catch the AI’s attention. It had to be an AI. I didn’t see anybody, and the voice did sound monotone.

 

“How may I be of assistance?” It really was an unvarying, cold voice.

 

“How do I open the—”

 

“Your helmet is unlocked by unlatching the seals. You will find two, one on each side of your neck. Upon unlatching, you’ll need to perform a clockwise twist and lift the helmet carefully.”

 

So, apparently, this AI could understand context really well. It had to have cameras pointed at me.

 

“Allow me to continue with the initial instructions set.” Myra said as I was trying to find the latches, which is much easier said than done, especially when one is wearing gloves and cannot see the mechanism they are working with and has never seen it before in the first place.

 

“You will find that you are dressed in a spacesuit for safety reasons, as we left Earth’s atmosphere several hours ago. You are attached to the ship’s bulkhead with a harness used for aerial travel and sleeping arrangements. There are four straps that you may now wish to undo. The first one is located at your waist—”

 

I was too focused on my helmet to listen to the instructions being given. Finally, I unlatched the other side as well, and with a twist, I heard a hiss as the pressurized suit equalized with the outside environment. I didn’t know what I expected, but the air in the room was not much more pleasant than the one inside the suit. It didn’t smell though, which led me to realize that the other sensations I was feeling in the nether regions of my body I would not be comfortable explaining in full detail. The helmet started simply floating away. I looked down on my body now that I could move my neck freely, and noticed the straps.

 

“As part of your sentence in the—”

 

Now, the gravity of the situation started setting in. With, presumably, more oxygen, I started thinking more clearly.

 

“—case state versus Everett Thomas, you are to serve the full duration of the mission aboard Nomos.”

 

Oh yes. Now I remembered. I had no idea I was going to wake up like this, but it certainly was a possibility, and being a civil engineer made me a good candidate. I should’ve thought of that.

 

“The mission you will undertake is estimated to take nine hundred seventy-seven days. The objective is to capture an asteroid currently passing Jupiter, expected to be rich in osmium—”

 

“What?”

 

“— expected to be rich in osmium which —”

 

“I know what the fuck you said. How long? How long is this going to take?”

 

“Nine hundred seventy-seven days.”

 

I was trying to remember the sentencing, but I couldn’t. I don’t know if it was a temporary effect of the sedation or something else. “Can you tell me the verdict? What the fuck happened?”

 

“It is not unexpected to experience short-term memory loss and/or confusion waking up from the sedation you have been under. You had an unexpected reaction to some of the compounds used in the formula, resulting in a longer sedation than calculated. Due to raised medical concerns, I am initiating a medical check.”

 

“I don’t need a medical check. I need to know what happened!” I balled my fist and barely controlled myself not to punch the wall.

 

“Please, state your full name.”

 

“Stop the procedure. Listen to me!”

 

“I apologize. The order of priority prohibits me from accepting any new instructions at the moment. Please, state your full name.”

 

“You said it to me a minute ago. Everett Thomas. Not much of a check is it?!”

 

In the next half an hour, I was forced to answer a myriad of questions ranging from how I felt to if I felt any discomfort and where, which also led me to acknowledge that I soiled the jumpsuit while unconscious, which was hardly my fault. At first, it made me angrier, but over time I calmed myself down and used the time answering questions to fully unstrap myself and, while floating around, to get acquainted with my new home.

 

“Medical check complete.”

 

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” I whispered while looking for something like extra clothes, baby wipes, or anything else to help me get rid of the mess.

 

“Now to your previous question. Your sentence was increased to encompass forced solitary labor upon discovery of new aggravating circumstances.”

 

I stopped squinting at the labels above the compartments in the wall and wanted to stand still, but was gently drifting away.

 

“The victim count was increased after thorough re-inspection of the site and now also included one Samantha Miller, who at the time of the incident found herself in the basement of the building, presumably seeking shelter and/or hiding from the authorities. She was found to be eight months pregnant. This led to a re-examination of the sentence.”

 

I knew about the construction worker who died, and I knew about the several injured ones. I didn’t know about her. I didn’t remember. Part of me felt for Samantha and her unborn child, and another part of me felt injustice for the increased sentence. It was an error. A mistake. I didn’t want to hurt anybody, yet I was treated like a murderer.

 

I drifted through space, staring nowhere. After a while, with the help of Myra’s instructions, I got cleaned up, and changed my clothes, but refused to eat for now. Partly because the room now smelt even worse, but also because I now remembered more. I remembered the trial, I remembered the sentence before it got increased, and I felt the weight of it all over again.

 

“Myra, how long is the mission?”

 

“The current estimate is nine hundred seventy-seven days.”

 

“Ok, then we come back to Earth, right?”

 

“Yes. Mission be proven successful or not, this vessel needs to return to the orbit for maintenance, refuelling, and provisioning.”

 

I exhaled loudly. “I can make it. That’s less than three years.”

 

“I will keep you company.”

 

“We’ll become best buddies for the next two and something years, Myra. I’m sure.”

 

“We’ll be in each other’s company longer. Are you implying you will grow to dislike me?”

 

“Wait. What did you say?”

 

“We’ll be in each other’s company—”

 

“I know what you said, but what do you mean by that?!”

 

“This is your first mission.”

 

“Out of?”

 

“There are to be seven missions of a total length of six thousand, one hundred and sixty-one days.”

 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

BRICS Sensation No. 1 – India’s Turn From U.S. To China

Some commentators wrote that this blog, and others, have neglected the current BRICS summit. They are right to a point.

BRICS is a long term project. It is the development of an economic and political conglomerate of supernational organizations designed to be an alternative to the ones created by the ‘West’ after the second word war.

There are several misunderstandings and a lot of wishful thinking about BRICS in alternative media.

BRICS will not replace the U.S. dollar. Any short term plan to replace of the currently most important global medium of financial transactions (not of real stuff trade) is unrealistic. Yves at Naked Capitalism has written several pieces to lay that out.

BRICS is not a military alliance. Iran joining BRICS does not mean that Russia or China or anyone else will come to its defense should the U.S./Israel attack the country. While they would probably provide some help in the background both will likely avoid any direct involvement.

Building BRICS will take several decades. Ad hoc reporting of and commentating one of its summits is not of much value without detailing the larger contexts. It will do that whenever the subject deserves it.

During the current BRICS session the most sensational issue with long term consequences actually happened shortly before the summit.

India has dropped the U.S. friendly anti-China policies it had implemented during the first two terms of the Modi government. It is (again) making nice with China and Russia while shunning U.S. attempts to make it a sidekick for U.S. policies in Asia.

This piece in Asia Times provides the background:

India and China have recently agreed to disengage from their prolonged border standoff in the western sector of the India-China Himalayan border on the sidelines of 16th BRICS summit. Tensions have simmered since June 15, 2020, after 20 Indian and an unknown number of Chinese soldiers were killed in a high-mountain clash.

On the geopolitical front, meanwhile, India lost significantly. It once viewed South Asia and the Indian Ocean as its traditional sphere of influence, but after becoming a US ally, none of its neighboring countries remain within its sphere. Instead, India has arguably become more of a subordinate ally to the US.

This was evident when the US conducted a Freedom of Navigation Operation (FONOPS) in the Indian Ocean on April 7, 2021, which sparked a strong backlash in Indian media and academia, despite India being a US partner. Additionally, the US has been accused of fueling anti-India sentiment in neighboring countries and covertly helping to oust pro-Indian governments in Sri Lanka, Nepal, and the Maldives. [The author leaves out the recent U.S. coup in Bangladesh – b]

This made India realize that the US expects it to relinquish its “strategic autonomy” and that India’s claims to a regional sphere of influence in South Asia are unacceptable to Washington.

Ultimately, after four years of experimenting with foreign policy, the Modi government came to understand that China’s cooperation is essential for India’s economic development. The prime minister’s economic adviser argued that China would likely refrain from interfering in India’s border issues due to its dependence on India, coupled with the prospect of increased Chinese investment.

The first and second terms of Modi’s government have marked one of the worst decades in India’s history in regard to international relations. During this period, India has incurred unprecedented opportunity costs while experimenting with international and geopolitical strategies. In his third term, Modi is looking to reverse the course by shifting from the US to China.

The piece argues correctly that it was U.S. arrogance towards India which has caused this change.

India’s making nice with China, and its shunning of the U.S., is an immense geopolitical shift. The two biggest countries of this planet by populations plus Russia, the biggest country by landmass, are again friendly to each other. They will coordinate their moves wherever it is in their tri-lateral interest.

This shift in relations will have similar huge consequences as the recent reestablishment of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran.

This is a disaster for the U.S. ‘pivot to Asia’.

But U.S. and other ‘western’ media, have barely reported on it.

Posted by b on October 25, 2024 at 10:27 UTC | Permalink

Fiancée DEMANDED A Wild Bachelorette Party, So I Hired A PI To Follow Her And Now She’s Toast!

Trump Abolishes Democrats’ DEI And Trans-Craze Policies

Trump’s second presidency has a strong start. On his first day in office he has issued some 200 executive actions including some 42 executive orders (EO) undoing many of Biden’s attempts of socially engineering a new society.

(Unfortunately I have yet to find a complete list of those EOs. Why haven’t even the agencies, AP, AFP or Reuters, compiled one?)

I do dislike many of the EOs Trump issued. Leaving the World Health Organization and the Paris Agreements, and thereby de-legitimizing them, is not good for mankind. Further supporting the Zionst entity is a disgrace.

Others I do like. Trump pardoned participants of the Jan 6 (2021) ‘riots’ which had never amounted to much more than a hustle.

He rescinded many of EOs the Biden administration had issued around its diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) policies. Attempts of social engineering against merit deserve to fail.

I am also very happy that Trump has ended the official Trans craze. The wording herein is remarkable:

DEFENDING WOMEN FROM GENDER IDEOLOGY EXTREMISM AND RESTORING BIOLOGICAL TRUTH TO THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT

Across the country, ideologues who deny the biological reality of sex have increasingly used legal and other socially coercive means to permit men to self-identify as women and gain access to intimate single-sex spaces and activities designed for women, from women’s domestic abuse shelters to women’s workplace showers. This is wrong. Efforts to eradicate the biological reality of sex fundamentally attack women by depriving them of their dignity, safety, and well-being.

This unhealthy road is paved by an ongoing and purposeful attack against the ordinary and longstanding use and understanding of biological and scientific terms, replacing the immutable biological reality of sex with an internal, fluid, and subjective sense of self unmoored from biological facts. Invalidating the true and biological category of “woman” improperly transforms laws and policies designed to protect sex-based opportunities into laws and policies that undermine them, replacing longstanding, cherished legal rights and values with an identity-based, inchoate social concept.

There are and will be many more Trump policies which (will) deserve to be condemned and criticized.

That should not hinder us to admit that he got some things right.

 

Posted by b at 14:10 UTC | Comments (7)
.

Americans are getting FUCKING angry!

Good questions are getting asked.

Elevator gladiatorial battles in China

Why doesn’t the USA invade China?

As much as the American empire would love to add China to the long list of so-called “rogue states” (a.k.a those refusing to be absorbed) it has reduced to rubble, there isn’t a hope in hell of them achieving this aim in China…

…as much as Pompeo, Bolton, and co lick their lips when thinking about it.

The fact is, China is not a weak country like those America is used to bullying.

It is a huge, nuclear-armed nation with a huge military and an ultra-patriotic citizenry.

You think IEDs on the roadside in Iraq are a problem?

Think going home with missing limbs and PTSD is a problem?

If Amerca were to invade China, especially while they still have vivid memories of the “Century of Humiliation” plus, constant U.S lies, smears, and interference in Chinese affairs, I can realistically imagine the soldiers being torn limb from limb by tens of millions of furious citizens.

Improvised bombs, poisons, boobytrapped overpasses, and guerilla warfare from such an enormous population would make life hell for the U.S soldiers.

And this is only taking into account local resistance.

The Chinese army itself, all 1.6 million troops ( and let’s not mention reserves), would be the biggest and most professional force the U.S has ever faced.

And they would literally give their lives for their motherland without hesitation.

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main qimg e66d12854fe34c5dc2d9228bc6433e4a lq

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main qimg 7329a08f1d4c177a85a715a264d8518b lq

The Vietnam war would feel like utopia compared to what the USA would face here.

The American citizenry would get tired of the bloodshed LONG before the (traditionally peaceful) Chinese would.

Let me attempt to explain it this way. And I am asking you to look at this in an unbiased, unblinded manner.

It’s Saturday evening. You, you wife and tween daughter are watching a movie on television.

There’s been news of a home invasion, not far from your residence, in which the homeowner was gunned down, his wife and young daughter raped and their throats cut.

As a “just in case”, you purchase a firearm, but because of gun control laws, your

to the weapon, unloaded, and the ammunition separately. You comply with this, because you’re a good citizen and want to keep your child safe.

Suddenly, you hear a loud bang and a sharp crack as your front door begins to splinter. You herd your wife and daughter into the master bedroom, since it’s farthest from the from door. You pull your gun safe from under the bed and begin manipulating the keypad as you hear your front door completely cave in, which causes you to mess up the combination. You finally retrieve your firearm and lunge for the dresser where your ammo is kept. As you grab your ammo, you hear the bedroom door slam open and an instant later two impacts to your back, causing you to drop your gun. As you sink to the floor, you hear your wife and daughter begin screaming as two invaders assault and begin to rape them. As you lose consciousness, you hear them gurgle as their throats are cut. Your last sight is that it’sof you murdered daughter’s eyes looking accusingly at you as her life leaves them.

You and your family are dead, because you followed gun control laws.

Think about it. Contrary to popular belief, the police are under no obligation to protect you.

Putin Honours Soldier After Intense Knife-fight Video Takes Russian Internet By Storm | Watch

Butter Balls Chicken Soup

The butter balls, very tiny dumplings, are called rivels in the West and dropsley in Ontario.

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Ingredients

  • 3 pounds chicken
  • 1/2 cup chopped celery leaves
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 10 peppercorns
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 5 cups hot water
  • 1 cup diced celery
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 2 eggs
  • 5 to 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions

  1. Cut chicken into portions. Place in a saucepan with celery leaves, bay leaf, peppercorns, the one teaspoon salt and the water. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer over low heat for about one hour, or until chicken is tender. Strain, then return broth to saucepan.
  2. Cut chicken into small pieces, add to broth with celery and parsley, then simmer.
  3. To make the butter balls, cream butter, add eggs and beat. Gradually add flour and the 1/4 teaspoon salt. Beat hard until it is like a very soft batter. Drop by 1/4 or 1/2 teaspoonsful into broth; cover and let stand for 5 minutes over low heat.

I’ve been playing around.

The AI is SHIT regarding male genitalia. My guess is that they didn’t include any of it in the database, while there is a lot of references for female equivalents.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(7)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(7)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 0(7)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 0(7)

The images not showing the private parts are pretty good.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 3(7)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 3(7)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 2(7)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 2(7)

Men tend to be of heroic structure, and the gals in all shapes and sizes.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(6)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(6)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 0(6)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 0(6)

I really like the draped clothing.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 2(6)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 2(6)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(5)
AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(5)

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No country looks down on China.

Not even the US. Once it did as evident by the many US-originated phases – yellow peril, sick man of Asia, screw on factory, all perspiration, no inspiration, al et. Yang Jiechi put this to bed when he met Blinken in Anchorage.

Now it is mostly fear and envy, hence the sanctions galore.

No country in Asia dares look down on China.

Everyone benefits from China’s development and growth.

But of course, in state-to-state relationships, you can hardly expect unanimity.

India, especially the Anglicized Indians, cannot accept China’s economy is so many times bigger when it was ahead of China in the 1980s. Indeed, the sad truth is that China is ahead across every or most human endeavours.

Japan and South Korea are secretly afraid of China. Publicly they have to parrot the US.

Other countries in Asia admired and are respectful of China. Maybe except the Philippines, which for inexplicable reasons, chooses to make an enemy of it, after receiving so much help, such as Covid vaccines.

Everyone knows how fast it has grown, how big it is, and how well it manages Covid-19.

Everyone knows how poor it was, the difficulties it endured, such as the isolation by the US, the atrocities of the Japanese, how it fought the Korean War, its own civil war, and the many trials and tribulations the western world visited upon it.

It is not a role model, certainly no one dares openly acknowledge it. It will certainly incur the wrath and slurs of US propaganda and its media. Nevertheless, China has many lessons to offer which explains why so many officials visit the country.

Simple Minds – Alive And Kicking (Live)

One Day Like This

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story where time functions differently to our world. view prompt

Nina Chyll

The back of the truck smelled of sweat, sharp with microbial sourness, not unlike the kimchi Max had been concocting in the cupboard under his kitchen sink. He got a fleeting, distant feeling that he might not enjoy any fermented foods for a long time after this.He counted everyone in the truck. Last time they had been summoned, ten years before, there were eight of them, Test Group Octagon. But this year, there were only six. Since the agreement they all signed at the start of the experiment stated the only viable reason to cease participation was to be no longer, Max thought without humour they might as well rename the group to Hexagon now.For the first few minutes, after they’d put on their seatbelts and settled in as much as possible under the circumstances, there was nothing between them but resigned silence, one that had gone through many stages: screaming, pleading, before finally imploding on itself. Ida was biting her nails, so Max put a hand over hers to stop it. He’d known for a whole decade she’d develop that habit, but watching her go through everything that led up to the onset of the nervous vice didn’t make the premonition any easier.John, one of the calmer subjects, spoke first. Max noticed how much he changed over the last ten years, in fact, how they all changed. The boys grew some facial hair, the girls wore make-up. They all looked more measured, more grown into their features, some almost to a point of not being recognisable.‘So?’ John looked around the truck, which was now moving along at a steady pace. There were no windows in the back, but light strips on the ceiling illuminated the two opposing benches they were sat on, giving their skin an unhealthy hue and creating deep shadows. John leaned forward; someone else put their head in their hands, and another looked upwards into the light with a desperate frown. Ida renewed her gnawing, cupping her free hand over her mouth to conceal the noise, the gesture, or the shame, god knows which. Like a Renaissance painting, Max thought looking over the scene.A girl with ginger hair nodded mutely, and John sighed. If Max remembered correctly, the girl’s name was Rachel. When they first met, a decade before, he found her terribly unappealing: a lanky-looking thing with an orange bunch of tumbleweed over her head. Then again, what ginger ten-year-old girl seems attractive to a ten-year-old boy, if instead, she can just be mocked and prodded for how different she is. Max felt shock dangerously close to the border of arousal as he noted how her face had evolved, how her hair was now a shiny flurry under control. He wondered what it’d look like splayed on a pillow, crowning her naked body.More nods came from the benches. ‘Yep, it’s all true,’ Ida whispered. ‘And remember the weirdest thing?’‘Yeah,’ John replied. ‘It told you that you would end up together.’ He pointed to Max.‘And we have,’ Ida said, taking Max’s hand into hers.He looked across at her face, the very face that finally settled into the grown-up curves he’d seen ten years before in the simulation, the vision, or, as it was officially known, The Hop. She had a beautiful smile that lit up other faces around it — when she expressed joy, she was a match thrown onto a pool of gasoline. Otherwise, she couldn’t be picked from a police lineup easily, and over some years after their first Hop, Max wondered how he’d come to end up with her if the vision was indeed correct.When their parents agreed to enter them into the first large-scale One Day programme, so confidently that their empathy and foresight could be nothing but heavily questioned, Max nearly popped with excitement. Here was an opportunity to step through a door and live one day of his life exactly a decade later. Whatever he might have seen on the other side, he could gear his life towards. Or he could try to outsmart fate like the clever boy he was. According to the preliminary findings, the vision would hold up to reality one hundred percent, but studies had only been done on a small number of participants, and the general public were advised to regard the results with a large pinch of salt.The children were given extensive training before entering The Hop. According to the tutorials, their best course of action would be to try and assimilate into life so that the objects (people, pets, environments) wouldn’t realise they were part of the experiment. The day would be re-lived ten years later independently. Its objects, while possibly experiencing a level of miscellaneous discomfort on the day, having lived through it once already in a semi-alternate timeline, would not be affected. One’s actions on the day had no bearing on the future, either: breaking up with a wife did not equal divorce, unless relived; even dying was considered non-final. The only certain parameter The Hop delivered on was the preceding decade.

In the first vision, Max lived a day of his twenties in the company of the mousy girl from the truck, Ida. A ten-year old in an older body, he did his best throughout the day to get Ida into bed, but discovered in the early afternoon that her father had recently died, and her mother was struggling with severe depression, so he gave up. Ida commented a couple of times on Max’s behaviour, noticing he was ‘even more immature than normal,’ but never worked out the deception.

How could he have fallen in love with this particular girl? She wasn’t entirely unattractive, but she was nothing compared to the bosomed, tight-waisted miracles on legs Max was envisaging for himself. And there was something so inherently sad about her, always trailing the line between smiles and tears.

On the ride back from The Hop, they exchanged numbers, shrugging and rolling their eyes. If this was indeed was fate had in store for them, they could discuss it one day. Neither called the other for years. And when they ran into each other eight years later at university, Ida ate Max like the black hole she was, pulling him in with a gravitational field so strong he felt ripped apart by her love. They never needed to discuss the vision, and the gnawing discouragement Max experienced on learning Ida was to be his chosen partner became a false memory.

The truck stopped. The beautiful ginger girl made a sign of the cross on her freckled forehead and shoulders. John, the guy who spoke, sat back and closed his eyes briefly before the back doors opened and the light of dawn tore into the little container.

‘Y’all ready for The Hop?’ someone they couldn’t see because their eyes had watered asked, and laughed with genuine glee. ‘Come on, let’s go, kids.’

The building appeared smaller than Max had remembered, as did the truck. In his pre-adolescent mind, the building loomed large over his head, but now, it seemed more like a second-grade prison, with its barbed wire, grey exterior, and gates upon gates upon checkpoints, complete with armed guards.

Ida gulped loudly all the way through their security checks, retina and fingerprint scans, weight measurements, and instruction talk. And then, they all separated. She got led to one room, with Max being pointed to the next door down. They looked at each other, nodded, each forced a smile straight from a Greek tragedy.

‘I love you,’ Ida mouthed, and Max responded by forming a heart with his thumbs and forefingers and pointing it at her.

In science fiction films, the jump to another dimension, or another state of consciousness, is often imagined accompanied by a multitude of tools: sleek metal tubes, IVs full of curious liquids, electrodes and wires. But The Hop was nothing like it. It was a door. A cheap-looking door at that, in the middle of the room, seemingly not glued or drilled down, just staring at him with a metal button handle like an eye. Max went right through, fully expecting to be asleep on the other side as per last time. He’d also been reassured by the coordinators that no participants would be dropped into a situation requiring their full attention so that they had time to process their surroundings.

 

***

 

Beeping in darkness, rhythmic, close, and a sucking sound, almost melodic, together in unison like the world’s smallest and strangest orchestra. Max feels awake, but his body appears to want to remain asleep. He can barely tell his extremities from one another, and discovers a great sluggishness all over, like his body has hibernated. Even his eyelids refuse to follow orders. His mind isn’t far behind, either: the sucking and beeping occupy a large portion of his available attention, and the little sliver left seems to operate at a reduced rate. How has he got here? He can still feel a coolness in his hand from the door handle he’d just touched, but the feeling is dissipating rapidly into a numbness, a sameness. What door handle?

He strains to tune out the beeping and focus on opening his eyes instead. This must be the key to this bizarre environment he’s just found himself in: if he can only get to see it, the world will come rushing in through the pupil and into the brain, repopulating it, planting impressions and images and memories and thoughts. But he can’t. The link between his faint will and his body is broken like a collapsed bridge.

A sudden warmth envelops one of his hands, and it takes him a while to figure out it’s his right one. Ida, he just knows it’s Ida from the way she slides her fingers with sharp, bitten-down nails in between his, one by one. There is something so shy about her which he finds so irresistibly sexy, like she’s a fawn in the woods and he’s a wolf who can prey on her, bite into her long neck, keep her down, let her find comfort in submission, in not having to pretend to be brave for once.

‘Max, we need to talk,’ he hears over the beeping and the sucking, but the sucking is so loud and close it nearly drowns out Ida’s voice. Open your fucking eyes, Max, he commands himself, squeeze that fucking hand. Nothing.

‘I mean, I need to talk at you, I guess.’ A sigh in perfect harmony with the rhythmic suction, a brief variation on the monotonous theme. ‘I don’t think I can do this anymore, really. I told myself that when I finish reading The Stand to you, and if you don’t wake up after that crappy ending to yell it’s a waste of a thousand pages, then I guess you’ll just never wake up.’

A long silence follows. Ida’s fingers tap and slither, slide back out, a little greased now, and Max senses a growing unease, whether in himself or his environment, he can’t tell. Is a man not one with his surroundings anyway? If only he could see her, if only he could understand exactly what she meant. Sometimes she gets sweaty hands when she’s feeling stressed, but sometimes, she gets them when she’s cold.

One: she was reading something to him. Two: there is no hope. He holds onto the conclusions that float on top of the limited consciousness he has access to. ‘Max… I’m going to have to move on. Ever since mum died, I’ve felt like skimmed milk, do you know what I mean? First what happened to you. Seriously, fuck that day. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the experiment, too. That rumination semi-skimmed me.’ She laughs, and the laugh chokes and turns into something else, something shivering. ‘Then with my mum… I knew she was dying, but I thought god was only meant to deal us a hand we could play, right? I’m just so thin, so watery. I feel like I could cry for a hundred years and not dehydrate.’

Another silence. Max listens, listens with all of attention. Three: Ida’s mum is dead. Four: something’s happened to him. Four, no, five: Ida no bueno.

‘I don’t even miss you anymore, not like I used to. How horrible is that. But I still feel guilty about Jason. I never wanted him that way, I promise. It wasn’t anything sinister, we really were just friends. But his wife left, and the whole custody thing. He’s decaf, and I’m skimmed milk. It’s a joke we have. I feel so guilty joking with him, more than anything else.’

A spot of moist warmth moves around Max’s face, wetting his forehead, eyes, cheeks, mouth at last. ‘I am so sorry. I still have hope, just so you know. In case you can hear me. But I think one of the nurses will have to read to you now.’

The silence that follows stretches for decades, then centuries, until Max is the last human in the universe known to man, and that man is Max. He remembers something someone said to him about an opening, a door. ‘The opening will reveal itself to you, so step into the portal.’ He waits for the door. Eons pass. The starless darkness doesn’t move, doesn’t shimmer, doesn’t pulsate, just stands still covering reality with a black blanket, and all Max hears is that infernal beeping and sucking. When an opening presents itself, like a creak in the fabric of his limited universe, he jumps through.

Ida is waiting for him in the hall. Her eyes dart up to meet his, and she breaks. ‘Please, Max, come on. I’m here, we’re here.’ She reaches for him, but he turns away her warmth, that same warmth that will abandon him ten years from now. He walks down the hall shaking his head, and Ida follows, sobbing single words of apology, or perhaps consolation.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ he yells across his shoulder. ‘Just shut up, Ida.’

It’s dark outside. He’s forgotten they were gone all day. He’s forgotten what the sun looks like. They walk across the road to the marked point they had been instructed to wait at after the experiment. Max paces up and down; nobody else is out yet. The truck is nowhere to be seen.

‘Please, Max. We could move, go somewhere. We could try to trick this.’

‘Who is this fucking Jason?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know, I’ve never met him.’ Her shoulders jolt up and down under the breathy, choking sobs she’s letting out.

‘Why are you crying?’ he demands. ‘You get to go on living, and fucking this Jason guy. You have no idea how it was.’

She tries to put a shoulder around him, but he stumbles away. He doesn’t want to be touched. There’s a barrier between them now, a wall of darkness so thick he can barely see her anymore for what she was only a few hours before. She follows him, and he watches her intently, taking steps back so that she can’t touch him. There’s that damn beeping sound again, except more forceful now.

‘Max,’ she pleads, and her eyes open up wide. ‘Max, be careful!’

He steps backwards off the curb and into the road, and the beeping turns into one continuous moan. He sees two headlights, but he’s falling. He feels suddenly thankful for these lights, dispersing the darkness he was drowning in all day, flooding his field of vision. There’s a screech, one mechanical, another organic, that’s his Ida. Then there’s darkness again once more.

When I proudly told my wife that my answer to a Quora question had received over 41,000 upvotes, she asked me which story I had submitted.

“It was the one in response to ‘What was the most disturbing thing that your seatmate did during a flight?’” I replied.

“Oh, that one about the kid sitting behind you?” she asked.

“No, not that one,” I answered. “But I have another one I’ll have to send in.”

I was flying to a conference from my home in Florida and I had the window seat next to two young boys whose parents and brother were sitting on the opposite side of the aisle.

During the whole two-hour flight, the three-year-old next to me was farting very regularly. As a father, I took it in stride that little kids can’t be expected to control their bodily emissions, but as a pediatrician, I consider myself an expert on gas and poop and everything gastrointestinal.

As we were beginning the descent into Washington, D.C, he began to grunt louder and was turning red in the face. Recognizing the signs of an impending explosion, I called over to his father who was busy talking to his wife.

“I think you better take him to the bathroom,” I warned.

“Nah, he can wait until we land,” he said, totally dismissing my professional expertise.

Just after he said that, poop started to pour out of his shorts all over the seat. By this time, it was too late for him to do anything about it since the flight attendants had already issued the “Fasten your seatbelt” command.

For the next twenty minutes, as we circled the airport, I had to listen to this child cry that he had pooped in his pants. Since his parents were on the other side of the plane, it became my responsibility for keeping him in his seat so that it didn’t increase the smelly mess even more.

As soon as we landed, the flight attendants allowed the father to carry him to the lavatory before anyone disembarked.

“Next time,” I told him as he scooped him out of his seat and wrapped him in a blanket, “trust another adult’s judgment when they tell you your kid needs to use the toilet.”

The Great [REDNOTE] Migration

One thing I have learned over the years: the answer changes over time. My answer at 29 was different at 39 and 49.

When the first startup I worked at got acquired, I was worth $10m on paper. It felt pretty great. But the acquirer went bankrupt before I could sell any. Or almost any. I ended up making $50k. I bought my spouse a new sports car.

It took me years to recover from the mental pain of losing that $10m of paper wealth. Years. I couldn’t really tell anybody, I had to push on. But it weighed on me for years.

A few years later, I cofounded my first startup. We sold it for $50m after 12.5 months, and I took my portion in all cash after the scars from the last experience.

What I did with it:

  • Bought a nicer house. Not a mansion, but a nice house. It did make life a bit calmer.
  • Bought my spouse a nicer car. A high end Mercedes.
  • Rented two hotel rooms when traveled and didn’t worry about expense. This was nice.
  • Didn’t worry so much what vacations cost.
  • Didn’t work for a year. At first it was nice and I got into great shape. But then I fell into a funk and was a bit lost. I had no purpose anymore.
  • So I used the funds to help get another startup off the ground …

So I had to do another startup.

This time it took 5 years to exit, but I made 10x more. So what did I do?

  • Bought a bigger house. It wasn’t really any better though and was no happier there. Maybe less because I felt locked in.
  • Bought a convertible Challenger. Was a fun car.
  • Spend each summer for 5 summers living somewhere different with kids. Shanghai, London, New York, Santa Monica. This was great. The best use of the funds.
  • Made sure the 529s were maxed out.
  • That was about it.

After all this, I was OK but no happier than after the first, smaller exit. I started venture investing and did some good ones and some unicorns and it helped to have some money to have the confidence to invest this way.

Then the pandemic came and I had to move and rent for a while. It simplified life, and I worried about fewer things. Just the people at work and home that mattered.

Now — finally — I enjoyed the earnings. For the first time.

Why? Now I just use it for calm. I’ve earned 12% a year on it on average and now it calms me to see it grow.

The house is smaller, the car is cheaper, the trips very nice but simpler.

Living well — but below my means — is calming now.

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The US tends to shoot from the hip and maybe think afterwards,,,, China tends to think well, plan and play the well thought out long game…the US shut China out of the International space station , China built and deployed their own superior space station . the US threatened to shut China out of the GPS system ..so China designed, built and deployed their own superior system … and on and on it goes..The US has been trying unsuccessfully to suppress China for the past 30 years or so… the US is blinded by it’s own arrogance and BS…

China found that the U.S. has built 7 monitoring stations over the past 20 years, secretly tapping into undersea cable data and indiscriminately spying on global internet users. The U.S. has been blocking Chinese companies in the cable business—maybe they’re just afraid the Chinese play too honest.

Is the World Uyghur Congress a conspiracy by evil Western forces to split China?

Yes.

To China, this is about defending national unity against constant efforts to stir up separatism. Think about it—would the US allow Hawaii or New Mexico to break away? Definitely not. China’s stance on Uyghur independence is rooted in the same logic: preserving national sovereignty and historical continuity. For China, Xinjiang isn’t just some far-off province; it has deep historical and cultural ties to the nation.

Need some historical context? Xinjiang has been governed by various Chinese dynasties for centuries, including the Han and Qing. This isn’t just a recent claim; it’s a long-standing connection. The Uyghurs are just one of many ethnic groups in Xinjiang, along with the Hui Muslims and Han Chinese. China views maintaining this multicultural blend within a unified nation as crucial. Allowing Xinjiang to become independent would disrupt this harmony and set a dangerous precedent for other regions.

Here’s where it gets even more complicated. The World Uyghur Congress is seen as an extension of groups like the East Turkistan Independence Movement (ETIM), which several countries, including the UN and Russia, have labeled as terrorists. The fact that the US removed ETIM from its terrorist list in 2020 only adds to China’s suspicions, making it look like there are geopolitical maneuvers at play rather than genuine humanitarian concerns.

Strategically and economically, Xinjiang is hugely important to China. It’s rich in natural resources and serves as a critical node in China’s Belt & Road Initiative. Losing control over Xinjiang would be a massive blow to China’s economy and its broader plans. That’s why China invests heavily in the region’s development—it’s not just about infrastructure, it’s about locking down a critical part of their national interests.

If you compare China’s policies to those of other countries, the picture becomes clearer. Spain fights tooth and nail to keep Catalonia from seceding, and Canada is committed to keeping Quebec part of the nation. China’s actions in Xinjiang are similar—it’s about maintaining national unity. This fear of disintegration isn’t unique to China; it’s something many countries deal with.

Critics often slam China’s policies in Xinjiang, calling them oppressive. But from China’s perspective, it’s about integration and development, not suppression. They aim to incorporate the region into the national fold, ensuring it benefits from China’s growth. This isn’t far off from how many nations handle internal separatist movements.

Men Are Leaving Dates Early and Women Don’t Know What’s Wrong

The Probe

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story about a character who wakes up in space. view prompt

Joseph Keener

“2.1 tonnes of steel.”The thought was like an ignition switch. His brain turned on, the deep dream of unconsciousness vanishing in an instant. Before the questions, before the wondering and the panic, the line of thought continued, sailing through like the meteor he was.”9.6 tonnes of carbon in various forms. 1.5 tonnes of copper to conduct energy. 7.9 petajoules of energy to run a theoretically infinite amount of data off 1.5 tonnes of silicon, gold, palladium, gallium, aluminum, germanium, platinum, nickel, zinc, and experimentally grown facets of rubies.” Information so dense that it could only be expressed within exabytes. Programming languages expressed only in runic forms bordering on 1000 separate inputs. He spun in the void, the deep dark where lights were pinpricks in the thick blanket of space, data of the machine surrounding him, imprisoning him.That wasn’t the right word though. Plungers of shock-absorbent glass depressed, fluid systems delivering chemical cocktails of nutrition, adrenal and tranquilizing. Yet it was only once ten hours had passed that his state of consciousness stabilized to where he could think.He did not know himself. There was a template of sorts there, a feeling of knowing, but nothing concrete. A tablet of stone whittled down, the original text lost to erosion. Yet it did not bother him. The mantra, still fresh in his mind, repeated, centering himself. “2.1 tonnes…”He wasn’t trapped. True, he could not move, or adjust himself, but there was no feeling of imprisonment. It felt…comfortable. Warm, even in the cold, empty dark. Empty. 

It wasn’t supposed to be empty, was it? Not this empty, at any rate. With the realization came elucidation, some other system entering his mind with the information forcibly. He couldn’t control what he was thinking, save for the mantra. “9.6 tonnes…”

 

He was in the Bootes Super Void. A region of space colloquially known as “The Great Nothing”. In a universe where things such as black holes existed, such a moniker was hard earned. There were scant few galaxies in this region of space, and even less of interest to anything like himself, whatever he was. So why was he here?

 

He blinked, and like pressing a button, more information flowed in, burning him. A probe. He was a probe. A deep space exploration probe, launched almost six millennia prior. 5.8 millennia more than he was supposed to survive. He blinked again, feeling the endless supply of raw data scrape over his mind, painfully. “1.5 tonnes…”

 

The only reason he could think at all was because of his location. Here in the Great Nothing, the data scraping of his machine’s protocols was lessened. It was taking in data, all data, from the consistency of the dark matter around him to the particulate within the void. To the ambient energy of the silent dots of stars to the slow cooling of entropy. How had this happened? He wasn’t supposed to still be alive. The purpose of this unit was simple, gather data on deep space, beam it back to the home planet, then go into hibernation after achieving said goal. Somewhere along the way, the last step had failed, but only half. His mind had indeed stopped, but the data banks of the machine had kept going. They had filled to the brink within two hundred years, but millennia of constant, never-ending input had created error upon predictive error.

 

The binary encoding was still there, in labyrinthine depths of legacy software, but it was buried under a mountain of geological surveys, energy readings, cosmic ray analysis, and finally and most interesting of all, cultural studies. Interfacing with any of it would be beyond pain, but that wasn’t his intention. No.

 

He was in a terrifying situation. Trapped in the endless dark, in forced repose. He was an artificially bred life-form built for one thing, and one thing only. To pilot this probe until it’s logical endpoint. That had come and gone, and now it was time to rest. Shutdown procedures would take weeks to implement, solar arrays and other, more reliable energy sources turning off took time. But he did not worry. He had time. Soon he would sleep.

 

Until then though, there was a certain curiosity that he had. Cultural studies was not part of his purview. He was a survey machine, not some would-be Voyager. As he withdrew from the automatic shut down, he opened the data streams. Strange hieroglyphs began translating out, scenes of biomes and cities came into focus. He looked for two days, then retreated back to the ancient shut down, aborting it.

 

Aliens had not been discovered in his time, both during his construction, and his launch. But in that time that he’d been asleep, something cosmically impressive had happened.

 

“We’re here!” Was the first one he saw. It was a message beamed into his data banks and shuffled away quietly by the uncaring system almost five hundred years after his sleep began. Followed by entire libraries of histories, from innumerable places and people.

 

They were people too. Aliens, but with lives, societies, families, friends. Love. Here in the Great Nothing, he saw a hundred different stars, and each one had been beaming hope into him for nearly 4 thousand years. Some wrote to him personifying him; monikers like Mr. Alien, or the Silent Observer. “7.9 petajoules…”

 

He remembered his home world and how they’d viewed contact. He wondered if they would feel shame or kinship at the levels of naivety and trust that these species showed towards him.

 

They wanted the universe to be kind. They’d sent personal messages, prayers, family videos, pictures, mementos. They’d sent everything they could think of, filling those endless, endless data banks with all the most cherished of things. He blinked, and there were tears as he watched some strange creatures hug atop a peak, brothers. Another scene, lovers embracing in a ruined city of bone. Friends mourning the loss of a beloved comrade. The stars and constellations. The smiles of mothers. “1.5 tonnes…”

 

As it had gone, it had snowballed. More aliens discovered his presence and accessed the surface level of his data, finding the messages of far away, the long lost, and the already gone. And they sent more in return. Consolidating until it made the bulk of him. An ark of wishes for the peaceful. A shooting star.

 

Everyone, everywhere, had sent their hopes to him. He could not shut down. He would not shut down, though a piece of him wanted to. He spared a glance at an image, a deep set one, of a vaguely familiar woman. Then he returned to the core of his programming.

 

He saw the error that had kept him awake. His internal clock had rolled over, storing the loss of time and setting him on a repeat of the 200 years he’d originally served. This data was locked behind a pass code, but he knew what it was. He’d been speaking it this whole time.

 

2196157915

 

With that, he altered the limitation of time he would experience here in the void. He would steward these memories, an archivist in the dark. He sighed, pained lungs distending. It was worth it though, to see through those hopes. More came unto him, and he accepted them readily. No longer a probe, but a beacon for all to see. Hope.

Fred was a widower in his late seventies when he became my patient. A slender build, small mustache and a full head of white hair complemented his avuncular smile. He was always charming and thoughtful of my staff. He liked to flirt with my employees, even bringing them flowers or candy on Valentine’s Day. He was not offensive, if anything he was a classic Southern gentleman. He spent most of his day time at the Senior Center, playing cards and enjoying the hot lunches and social contact. He was not much of a complainer, but I noted signs of alcoholic liver disease on routine blood tests. I started suggesting he cut down on his alcohol intake and work toward abstinence. After a few such conversations he confided in me.

“Doc, I hear what you’re saying about my drinking, but I have to tell you it’s something I’ve done my entire adult life and have no desire to stop now. I was a drinker back when I was in my twenties and Prohibition was the law. My first paying job was running moonshine in the back of my truck on back roads in Georgia in the wee hours of the night. Liquor almost killed me then.”

“ I was pulled over by a cop on one of my midnight runs and he demanded I open up the back of the truck to show him what I was carrying. I knew I was in big trouble if he found the booze and also in big trouble if I didn’t deliver it. I made like I was reaching for the key for the padlock and shot him with my handgun. He died instantly. I hid the body and high-tailed it out of there. They never figured out who killed him.”

“It’s been over 50 years since it happened and you’re the first person I ever told. I guess I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

I was speechless. I don’t remember what I said to him, but recall thinking later that he trusted me enough to finally tell someone he was a murderer.

It isn’t.

The US is a malevolent force in the world…

  • endless wars leading to massive death and destruction everywhere
  • endless sanctions leading to untold human misery (abusing and weaponizing the US Dollar)
  • endless coups and regime change
  • endless interference in the internal affairs of other nations
  • endlessly violating international laws
  • refusal to take climate change seriously
  • inviting world war with its provocations against Russia and China
  • supporting genocide in Gaza
  • extracting natural resources from Global South nations and suppressing their development

The sooner we get rid of the US, the better.

This is why the world is de-dollarizing.

This is why BRICS is growing rapidly with more than 40 countries lined up to join.

This is why China is massively building up its military.

This is why China leads the world in fighting climate change.

This is why over 150 countries participate in China’s Belt and Road Initiative.

Absolutely Nothing

Democracy starts well but eventually rots into a stinking, festering, cesspool system of filth and corruption

US is no different

To win votes, To continue corruption without getting caught, To help the top 0.1% become richer at the expense of the Middle Class

YOU NEED A SCAPEGOAT!!!

For Europe – It’s Migrants & Russia

For India – It’s Muslims & Congress

For USA – It’s China & Migrants


The US has become a filthy gutter infested country of corruption and dirt

China is the favorite scapegoat

China is the best way to help cronies seize monopolistic markets without competition

China is the best way to keep pumping 300% higher prices for Defence Bills

China is the best way to jack up insurance prices

That is all there is


People of my age are smarter and cleverer to see through these Scams

Many of Today’s generation Z are stupider and denser and fall for this, hook like and sinker – at least in India

Guys ITS HAPPENING!

Our relationships shape our adventures

As a witness in a trial you don’t get to see other witnesses take the stand so the only experience I had with defense attorneys was when I testified.

With that being said, I was involved in a case where the defendant was in federal prison on a drug charge and was coming up for release. I was notified by the local sheriff’s department that they were investigating him for sexually assaulting his girlfriends young daughter but didn’t have enough to make an arrest because the girlfriend and her daughter would not cooperate. They asked if he had any contact with the daughter since being incarcerated. There were no visits, but we did find telephone calls that were placed to the mother from him.

I reviewed the calls and found there were times when the mother would put her on the phone with him. Sure enough he was on the a recorded telephone telling this young girl not to cooperate as he was getting out of federal prison soon and coming there if she tells the police anything.

I testified to the phone calls, what was said and how I knew it was him on the telephone. After the prosecutor was done tying the evidence to the defendant, it was the defense attorney turn. He looked at me and said I have no questions. The look on his face said it all. His client was not only found guilty of the sexual assault on a minor, he was found guilty of tampering with a witness. He was sentenced to the maximum sentence at that time which was 24 years by the state.

  1. I’ve stopped having friends. As the years have gone by, and especially during the lock down, work completely took over my life as friends got married, had kids, and/or became insane conspiracy theorists. Maybe if I had talked to them more, I could have mitigated this, but as it is now, talking to them has become too much of an effort. The only “friends” I have left are coworkers, and as I work from home, our interactions are remote, and while I like a lot of them, these relationships are inherently transient. I find a new job or they do, and eventually—if not immediately—we’ll never have contact again..
  2. I’ve stopped having romantic relationships. When all you do is work, there isn’t time left for anything other than running errands. Even if I were working in an office, HR actively discourages relationships, and if your coworkers are the only people you regularly interact with, where are you going to meet anyone else?
  3. I’ve stopped trying to stop drinking. There doesn’t seem to be any point. I did a lot of data analysis in grad school, climate change has already made the world unrecognizable, but people don’t see it or feel it until it happens to them or someone they care about. Right now our primary concern is higher prices, and wages haven’t kept up with inflation for about 50 years. We work too hard for too little, and I’m grateful to be close to 50, or to at least have had a chance to screw up my life on my own terms and live during a time when it was possible to buy a house and have kids without having to earn at least six figures. I managed to buy a studio apartment and save some money, but I couldn’t afford to have a kid even if I wanted one.
  4. I’ve stopped really caring about work. It’s beaten into our brains since childhood, and school is really just practice for work, or trains us to wake up when we don’t want to to do other shit that we don’t want to. Per the data, I should quit my job now and try to enjoy the last relatively healthy years I have left, but I’m stuck with the same biases and fears as everyone else.
  5. I’ve stopped writing novels. I got one, or a third of one, traditionally published, but they just don’t sell. 8,000 words of erotica (or porn) sells for as much as a 50,000 word novel, and they keep on selling with no effort on my part. I still write articles and short stories, but writing a novel takes time and energy I just don’t have, and the erotica sells over 100 times better.
  6. I no longer try to pick up women. I had a fling two years ago and it did us both some good, but there were too many scheduling issues and it began to feel like just another job. For all the Republicans wondering why people are lonelier and having less children, maybe a living wage, a return to better social safety nets, and some time would help. I make a good living at a job that’s considered to be decent, but if I didn’t own this place, I’d barely be able to make rent. To save anything, I’d have to pay a grand a month to rent a room—not an apartment—in an outer borough. Regardless, as with my friends, I no longer feel like I have much to offer or say to anyone.
  7. I’ve stopped doing hard drugs. Again, this began to feel like just another pointless job, and a lot of drug users age out. It becomes too much of an effort and an expense to wait for some drug dealer in a lousy neighborhood or spend more for deliveries from people you don’t really want to know where you live. It’s cheaper and easier to just get drunk.
  8. I’ve stopped reading as much. My job has fried my eyes, and I just don’t have the time.
  9. I’ve stopped thinking about changing careers. You work in a field for 20 years, and that’s how employers see you, regardless of what certificates or degrees you get. Other industries are hesitant to risk giving you an entry level position, as you probably make more in the middle of where you are or could be, and there are other actuarial issues to consider, even though the price of group healthcare goes up every year while our benefits go down.
  10. I’ve stopped arguing with innumerate, close-minded people who claim to accept science. The right is worse than the left, but there’s an increasing tendency on both sides to pick and choose the science that fits their ideology. We have the solutions to most of our problems, or at this point, to at least mitigate them, but if people don’t like the answer, even if it’s clearly the best alternative by far, they won’t accept it.

At least I don’t have to commute or ever update my wardrobe, or blow money on stupid status symbols to get ahead. I can do my job on autopilot while I get drunk and listen to music, and I have a rescue cat who’s been a great pal.

In other words, it could always be worse.

During my time in the German Army, there was this guy who was in charge of our TOW anti-tank missile system maintenance. Once every year, we had to bring our TOW systems to another camp where they would be thoroughly checked, serviced, and repaired.

I remember very well when I saw this maintenance guy for the first time: his hair was way too long, he hadn’t shaved, and his uniform looked as if he had been wearing it for several months. I asked my platoon leader what his story was and he told me:

Years ago, this soldier had been sent to the United States to learn everything about the intricacies of TOW maintenance. He was one of only three people (one for every Army Corps) who had gone through this special training and was a specialist on the highest level.

Unfortunately, he was also a lazy drunkard who didn’t give a fuck about anything. Sometimes, he didn’t show up for work for several days in a row. The Army couldn’t kick him out, because then, one third of the German Army’s anti-tank missile systems would have been left without proper maintenance.

main qimg 70ee2d186b1d34e34aa615370dd94b0f lq
main qimg 70ee2d186b1d34e34aa615370dd94b0f lq

A TOW system being repaired (photo: NATO).

The only way to react to his numerous infractions was to demote him. He was once a First Lieutenant, but when I saw him for the first time, he was only a Staff Sergeant. Normally, an officer can’t be ‘demoted’ to Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO), but with him, the Army made a big exception.

I would see this guy again a year later, this time in our barracks. We had been waiting in vain that he completed all the maintenance tasks on our systems and therefore, the Army decided that instead of sending the weapon systems to him, they would send him to our barracks.

This way, he would be under more scrutiny (we could check on him every day to see if he was working) and finish his job much quicker. It worked: he got all the work done in less than two weeks.

The last time I saw him, he had been demoted to Sergeant.

Jeremy Stevens

This story contains sensitive content

This story contains leftist political hot-buttons. Do not proceed if you are easily offended.“Do you promise you won’t leave me?”“Baby, how many times I gotta say it?”“More times than you have.”“I promise. I’m not going to leave you.”“It’s just…everyone I’ve ever loved has left.”“I am not everyone.”“And if we do this…”“Ssshhh…you talk too much.”“Just, go slow, ‘kay?”“You got nothing to fear.”

—–

“And you met him, where?”

“At the dugout…”

“I mean, where, the first time?”

“Online.”

“Where online?”

“CuddlesClub. He said he was fifteen though…”

“And how long had you chatted with him, before…”

“Two months, maybe?”

“And when you met him…”

“He could have been fifteen, maybe.”

“But he wasn’t. You knew this, right?”

“Yes.”

How did you know this?”

“Just the way you know things.”

—–

“But she’s only twelve.”

“The State does not give her permission.”

“She was raped.”

“Better than being a murderer.”

 

—–

Noam is playing with blocks on the floor. He uses them not only to build, but to spell. His latest word is “dim”; his phrase: We are a dim lot. Noam is going on four.

 

Naomi and I are cuddling on the torn loveseat. She entered my life when Noam was born. I am sixteen now; Naomi is nineteen. Naomi named him Noam, said it was a good name, said it meant “pleasantness” and that Noam Chomsky said we are born with “innate linguistic aptitude.”

 

“It’s a silent ‘fuck you’ to the suppression from the State,” she told me.

 

I didn’t get it at all then. I get it a bit more, now.

 

Naomi kisses my cheek, and hums Jack Johnson: …it’s so much better when we’re together.

—–

We are huddled in the shanty. The rain has finally stopped, so Naomi has gone out looking for food. So long as she stays to the alleys, she should be fine. Better food there, anyhow. Lots of restaurants; lots of waste. Last week her foraging yielded an unopened bag of pre-cooked, deveined, tail-removed shrimp. Noam found it delightful.

 

I was twelve when my parents were imprisoned. My father’d called the judge a sick beast and away they went, both of them. I was sitting behind them with some person in a white robe.

 

Now now, she tapped my knee. Now now.

 

I was fat with child and my back hurt. Heavily medicated, I haven’t much memory of those times. Naomi says there’s much we are not allowed to do. Being together is one of them.

 

“What happens if they find us together?”

 

“Just stick to the script.”

 

But Naomi is white, which is also a problem.

 

“Who’ll believe we’re sisters, Naomi? You’re white and I’m…”

 

Naomi just kisses me then. It is a hard kiss. Passionate. She grips the nape of my neck and puts her forehead to mine. “Sweet angel, I do so love you.”

—–

 

At four, Noam is still a thumb sucker. Despite our attempts at potty training he still has to wear diapers, and still Noam cannot speak intelligible words. His block spelling has plateaued. While we have no reliable source for nutrition, Naomi is resourceful and provides our RDA of the necessary food groups but still Noam’s eyes are jaundiced, his gums are bleeding, his skin is scaly. He’s been given to highs of rage and lows of slurping depression. He’s pulled out most of his hair; his fingertips and nails are nubbbed from scratching our earthen floor. I’ve tried to love on him —we both have— and sometimes he’ll relent but more often he’ll gnash and growl.

 

“What do you think the problem is, Naomi?”

 

“How well did you know his father?”

—–

 

It was on one of her last forays that Naomi returned with books. “I found them in the dumpster,” she exclaimed delightedly, “all brand new.”

 

Governor DeSatanist. We both knew it, but we dared not speak of it, FOR JESUS CHRIST HATH DECREED THAT the right the abort, the right same sex, the right to read, THE RIGHT TO EXPLORE OPTIONS are no longer rights, but SINS, all in the names of murder! defilement! propaganda!

 

“Oh, Naomi, what beautiful treasures. The Giving Tree. What in the world?”

“Sexist.”

Exploring Civil Rights: The Movement.

“Racially motivated.”

Bridge to Terabithia? I loved this book.

“Promoting the occult.”

Where the Wild Things Are.”

“Again. Too demonic, they say.”

“All of these were tossed? The Outsiders (too violent!), To Kill a Mockingbird (too mature!)…oh, I love this one but never heard of it: My Moms Love Me.”

 

We both looked down at our four-year-old, teething on a sandal.

—–

There is heavy foot traffic outside our tin-roofed shanty. They are marching in unison. Regimental, a tap-tap on the door: big bad white men instilling fear in two biracial dykes and a bastard invalid. We know why they are here. Surprised it took them so long.

 

The walls of our shanty are now lined with books: banned books, we assume, for they’d all been discarded. Several months ago, we’d opened our doors for exploration, purely word of mouth quite naturally as we —Naomi and I, and Noam— are not known to exist, not any longer. (For it’s been assumed, we assume, that we were wiped clean during the last fumigation, we fitting all their criteria of filth, after all.) Prior to finding us, our people had been fed the The History You Need to Know twenty-volume series; The Jesus Christ Giver’s Guide: How to be a Good Citizen; and The Lives of Hunter and Paisley five-volume series (Birth-Elementary Homeschool; Homeschool in the Neighborhood; College is not Necessary; Adulting with People Like You; Growing Old Quietly and Respectfully).

 

For the past several months, though, we’ve allowed our people to travel, to read with delight words that are actually said, emotions that are actually felt. Our people have been able to find comfort in words, healing words, words that have allowed them to transcend the NORM and to explore the lives of others, the majesty of foreign lands without the privilege of escape from this, our “home of the free because of the brave,” words and emotions that are now SINS because…because…

 

is there one right answer here?

 

Because independent thought is treachery. An enemy of progress.

 

Because “who controls the past controls the future, and who controls the present controls the past.” Because “the best books are those that tell you what you already know.”

 

Orwell, too, has been banned, of course. But we have him in our library.

Had, for we have been discovered.

—–

 

We are not going to be stoned, or burned like witches. We are not going to the rack or the gallows, or the chair. We are not going to be strapped to a gurney and punctured with needles. We are not going to be shot, or even gassed.

 

Our “fumigation” is the now-proverbial Jim Jones’ Drinking the Kool-Aid, though still we get to live, very much like the donkeys at the end of Pinocchio, also banned for its debauchery on Pleasure Island: as sheep in the fields, after the surgeries are complete, we shall follow without question, we shall bleat unintelligibly, we shall chew the cud from dawn ‘til dusk with those indistinguishable from ourselves.

 

We shall cause no further problems. We shall be obedient.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Almost Cut My Hair (Live at Farm Aid 2000)

Is the USA the only winner of the trade war? Its economy is healthy, even if consumers face higher prices. Meanwhile, both the EU and China seem to have lost, showing slower growth, high unemployment, declining profits, and falling consumption.

The US is an immensely powerful economy

It has everything you can want

Abundance of Natural Resources , Raw Materials, Technology and a Capital Market that’s larger than the next four countries combined

It is exactly where the UK was in the 1880s-1920s

At the peak of the Empire – UK had abundance of resources, raw materials, Technology and a Capital Market larger than the next six countries combined

The UK was however structurally weak and becoming weaker by the minute due to a :-

System of tremendous inequality afforded to the Nobility and Upper Classes
Consistent Militarization to keep the Colonial Empire intact
Increasing influence of Politics and helping the Upper Classes keep influence for almost 40 years between 1880–1920 that forced many others to migrate or become disillusioned

This ensured that when the German war machine hit the UK in 1940 – it decimated the entire structure

Colonialism was their only way to keep their wealth and when Colonialism disappeared, so did their absolute power

Now the US is structurally as weak as the UK is :-

It has a tremendous reliance on credit and debt
It has massive inequality
It has a Corrupt Political structure that ensures the survival of the Upper Classes and Rich at the expense of the Average American leading to significant disillusionment
Its Militarization is so expansive that it’s taken the entire nation hostage

The US Dollar as Global Reserve and Bretton Woods is their only way to keep their wealth and absolute power

Thus the US will do whatever it takes to keep their Dollar Dominance

Unfortunately the Trade War is the worst way to do so

Weaponizing what you need to maintain your dominance is stupid

The British did a lot of terrible stuff to maintain their Colonialism and by doing so they made things far worse than it should have been

The Americans are doing a lot of terrible stuff to maintain their dominance but they are actually making things far worse

Now China is a formidable economy but has a lot of people and lesser natural resources than the US has

However it is Structurally Strong

It has such a strong reliance on Assets that there is virtually zero unsecured debt anywhere on the Mainland
It has a rising middle class and all its policies are aimed to boost the middle class rather than help the upper classes get richer
It’s Militarization is entirely self contained and stand alone
It has inequality but it’s increasingly reducing rather than increasing

They thus have the potential to grow their global influence tremendously

Everything else is paper

The Equation is that US is declining and the Global South is emerging

GDP numbers, Unemployment are all blips and paper numbers that dont carry any significance to the Structural Strength and Resilience of an Economy

Best example is Russia

On the surface, Russia looked weak and broken when the Ukrainian Conflict started which led to many economists predict its eventual collapse

Yet few economists and some others students of economics like myself knew that Russia was structurally strong and very resilient and the result is today Russia is thriving and Germany is sinking faster

So the Trade War is rebounding on the US far more than on China

When the Paper wears off – that’s when the Structural Damage would be seen in the US

In China, the paper is not very good but underneath there is a much stronger economy that will ultimately emerge

Israel Economy Collapsing As People Flee The Country!

GDP in the USA

The reason it seems misleading is because GDP for the US and China is comparing oranges to apples.

The US uses an “updated” way to count GDP. Every single transaction done by robots for a millisecond is counted.

There is a reason the US did NOT count stock trades into the GDP. Because it is like your left hand giving your right hand $100. You did NOT make another $100. And certainly didn’t make another $100 when the money was handed back to the left hand.

But that is exactly what the US is doing. China refuses to do so because it distorts the GDP. Doing this means you have no idea what is going on in your economy.

Then the US implement imputed rules.

Imagine telling the bank that your vacant apartment building was rented and that your income was the imputed rent.

That’s called bank fraud. Again the US is doing this across the board. Commercial buildings, apartment buildings, etc. They all count as rented whether they have people in them or not. And the US government gets to decide the “rent”. Then that is counted in to the GDP.

And every year, they raise the “rent”.

There are more. But that should suffice to understand what is happening. China does none of that.

Years ago, I worked for a dental office as a dental biller.

The office manager was a narcissist and enjoyed the fact that in order to bill for less common procedures, I had to come to her and ask her for the codes (as did others). She enjoyed making us wait for them and loved to sigh loudly while proclaiming she didn’t know how we’d manage without her…One day, I found a copy of all the codes for dental procedures on the internet…From then on, I didn’t have to ask and everyone else just came to me for the codes which I happily provided in real time.

That was the beginning of the end for me!

She HATED that now we didn’t need to beg her for the codes, so it was WAR on me!!

Another co-worker in the office who she didn’t like either had immense difficulty getting to work on time as she had to use public transportation, so I started picking her up and bringing her to work with me. As soon as the office manager found out, she changed my co-worker’s hours to two hours later than me. The co-worker still decided to ride with me and come in early, so then the office manager changed MY hours to two hours later than my co-worker’s and promptly fired her when she was late the next time…But, me trying to help my co-worker get to work on time pissed her off royally…

She did things like pass around little notes to people telling them not to talk to me etc…

So, the final straw came one day when I caught one of her cronies stealing my sealed juice in the office fridge. I told the thief she had to buy me a new carton of juice to replace the one I caught her stealing.

The office manager fired me that day stating in writing I was being fired for ‘insubordination to the dentists’ and an ‘anger problem’. Unbeknownst to her, I was in regular text contact with all of the dentists. When I got fired, I sent all the three dentists a copy of the letter. It took a little while as we were part of a chain of dentists, so head office had to investigate, but 6 weeks later, they fired her and rehired me!

Best thing ever? She had to come back and pick up her personal items from me, as the new office manager specifically wanted me to be the one she picked her things up from!

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When I was a medical student, an avuncular old doctor chuckled as he talked about how many patients refer to this “mysterious internal continuum called the system”, which had never been found anywhere in anatomy or physiology.

There are probably several overlapping ideas in your parents’ minds. Some make sense; others don’t.

The first is reasonably simple. If you have a fever, you sweat more, so you need more fluid than usual. Drinking plenty of water (not “lots of excess water”) is sensible here: we’re talking an extra glass every couple of hours. Any more than this isn’t necessary. You don’t need to guzzle the water all at once; you can sip slowly the whole time if you prefer. And it doesn’t need to be water: tea, fruit juice or soda are all fine.

The second may be the other curious notion that we are full of “toxins” (perhaps more than usual if we’re ill), and that by drinking large amounts of water, we “flush these out”. This is nonsense: we are not full of toxins, and drinking extra water does not increase the elimination of anything at all—except water.

Edit: This answer is attracting a lot of traffic, which is lovely, but I’m becoming exasperated by the number of people who are trying to preach to me about the harms of sugary soda. How dare I—a doctor, no less—recommend soda to sick people? Don’t I know how bad that stuff is? One comment pointed out that they use it to clean car parts! (I’m pretty sure they don’t, at least not often).

So let me make myself clear.

If you’re sick, you need more water than usual. You can drink water: it’s great, so pure, so wonderful. But you can take water in any form and it will still be fine. Soup is fine. Tea and coffee are fine. And yes: sugary soda is fine. It has water. It even has a bit of sugar to give some energy. And it tastes nice. When I’m sick, I like soup, and I like fruit juice (plenty of electrolytes in both), and I even drink sugary soda. There; I’ve said it.

Am I suggesting you drink huge volumes? No! Am I suggesting that sugary soda has health-giving properties? No! Am I suggesting that you should only drink soda? No!

So, those of you who have had a sharp intake of breath at what I wrote: relax. It’s going to be ok.

On 2024/10/14, Israeli diplomat proactively called China’s diplomat Wang Yi. One hour later, China called Iran. What does Israel want from China?

Words from Chinese Foreign Ministry:

1, On Israel: ceasefire in Gaza which is the trigger of the latest conflicts in Mideast. No attack at UN peacekeepers in Lebanon.

2, On Iran: restraint.

Israeli press conference: Wont attack Iran’s nuclear plant or oil field. Only military bases (?). Stand firm on the ONE CHINA policy.

Until we read declassified document years later, nobody knows the true contents of diplomats’ conversation. We can only guess what Israel wants from China.

1, Be reminded that Israel-Netanyahu does not care about the stance of Biden & UN, nor moral high ground re genocide, nor war crime. Netanyahu deliberately killed UN humanitarian workers from USA.

Clearly, the phone call was not about UN peacekeepers though there are Chinese peacekeepers in Lebanon.

2, It is about Iran then.

Israel accuses Iran of attacking Israel.

The correct word is : retaliate & not attack Israel. Anybody with a reasonable mind & who tracks news can conclude who attacked whom?

We see a series of actions by Israel since April 2024. Bombing of Iranian embassy in Syria, killing few Iranian top military personnel. Assassination of Iran’s guest Hamas’s leader-negotiator. Israeli assassination might include Iran’s president. Then assassination of Hezbollah top leaders using pagers, hand-held radio & walkie-talkie (which is terrorism according to UN definition).

We see Israel plotting a Mideast war & drags USA along, so that it can rob more land around Israel.

The complaint to China about Iran’s retaliation is Israel’s crocodile tear only.

Iran’s retaliation on Oct 1 surprised Israel & USA because Iran, with precision bombing, damaged/destroyed Israel’s military bases & Mossad building only, with NO civilian death.

Seems the 3-4 layers of anti-missile system of Israel & USA are ineffective. Now USA is to send THAAD system to Israel.

On Oct 5, four days later, there was earthquake in Iran. Seems Iran has nuclear weapon or the capability to make nuclear weapon.

To put up a show to Israeli audience, it is likely Netanyahu will retaliate Iran. And … Israel does not want China to help Iran.

Note on Oct 4, Iran’s supreme leader Khamenei came out from hiding to call for Muslim unity. Why came out now? Probably because Iran has a made-in-China laser equipment that can destroy low-fly aircraft & drones.

Other than not wanting China to help Iran, it is possible that Israel wants Iran to know that “Nothing serious this time. So dont over-react.”

China’s Diplomacy, Geopolitics & Defense

Diplomacy

The CPC and ROC claimed all of China’s remaining disputed territories in 1949. Mao gave up some territories in exchange for treaties with twelve neighboring countries, including Myanmar, Nepal, North Korea, Mongolia, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Russia, Laos, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Vietnam. Chinese Leaders after Mao rarely made such compromises.

Foreign China scholars were disappointed because they loved China so much that they wanted to change China. And when they found out China had not changed, the love turned into hatred. That cannot be the basis of love: ‘I love you because I can change you.’ That is the basis of trouble,” says former Singaporean Minister of Foreign Affairs, George Yeo.

Hong Kong has the world’s freest economy, says the Fraser Institute’s 2024 “Economic Freedom of the World” report. Hong Kong scored 8.58, followed by Singapore with 8.55. Switzerland was third with 8.43, followed by New Zealand and theUSA, with 8.39 and 8.09.

Geopolitics

Disease ecologist Peter Daszak describes the ‘witch hunt’ he and his organization have endured over Covid lab leak allegations, endured four years of “relentless” and “damaging” attacks. He has faced death threats and harassment because of his work with Chinese scientists on virus research before the Covid-19 pandemic – an experience he describes as a “medieval” witch hunt.

Taiwan teachers call for a return to Chinese culture. Says Ou Gui-zhi, a teacher at Taipei First Girls High, “It’s clear that no one is born supporting Taiwan independence, it is an ideology deliberately cultivated”. Wu noted that in recent years, he has encouraged several students to visit the mainland and was surprised by the changes in their perspectives.

Margaret Brennan, CBS: “How would you apply “proper leverage to the Chinese and to the Mexican drug cartels” to stop exporting fentanyl?”

  • SEN. JD VANCE: Well, I think you walk into Beijing, you talk to Xi Jinping, and you say, “Your entire economy is going to collapse unless you get access to American markets. You need to take this fentanyl seriously, or we are going to impose serious tariffs and economic penalties for not following our laws and not helping us stem the flow of this deadly poison.”

MARGARET BRENNAN: And you wouldn’t be worried about blowback on the US economy?

  • SEN. JD VANCE: I think that we have a powerful economy, Margaret, with the best workers in the entire world. If we need to fight a trade war with the Chinese, we will fight it, and we will win it.

Defense

Iran has fielded China’s Shen Neng directed laser energy weapon for dazzling and…

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I was a military dependent in Germany.
We lived in off-base housing near a German town.
We had a small ten club and a trailer eatery where you could buy dogs, brats, and burgers.
There was a shuttle bus we could take to the main base to see a movie, go to church or whatever activity we wished.
One night at the teen club we had some HS football jocks come out from the main base and started picking fights with the younger guys. I was out back of the club BSing with some friends when suddenly I was grabbed from behind and another jock started using me as a punching bag and really getting off on his beating on me.
Not one of my friends stepped in. I kinda resigned myself to it and started rolling with punches so they didn’t hurt too bad. He finally got tired and I said “anything else?”.
He got pissed and they let me go so they could start on fresh meat.
All this time I hadn’t cried or begged for him to stop. When I got home my dad jumped up and yelled “What the hell happened?” when he saw my bruised and bloodied face. For some stupid reason felt I let him down as I told the story and started to cry.
He stomped out of the house and came back in about 20 minutes. He said we were going to have some self defense lessons and that was the end of it. Later that night some of the girls came by my window and they had awe in their voice as they described what happened.
Apparently my dad stormed in, grabbed one of my friends by the arm and simply rumbled “where?”
He pointed to the trailer eatery and my dad made a beeline for it. They were inside laughing about “beating up the pussies”.
He grabbed two of the jocks by the neck – one in each hand – lifted them up and slammed them into the wall. He asked the kids that followed him if they were the ones that beat me up. They nodded yes. He directed a punch right next to the biggest ones head and left a sizeable dent in the metal wall. He got right in the kids face and said he didn’t care who his dad was (likely an officer), or what would happen to him but if he ever saw them out there again there would be hell to pay. He told them to start running and kicked one in the ass to get him moving faster out the door.
Everyone at the housing area was in absolute awe of my dad after that. He started teaching me some self defense basics after that. That night and the following days I saw my old man in a new and different light and I got an inkling of what being a man is all about.

Shorpy

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I used to have this album.

Top tune!

Years ago, I was a registered democrat. I switched parties and am now a Republican. Why, the overwhelming majority of republicans I have meet have been nice, decent people and great neighbors. The worse neighbor that I have ever had, and is still my neighbor, is a dyed in the wool democrat.

About 10 years ago he saw me loading a few guns in my truck as I was going to the range. He became upset and called the police to report his crazy neighbor that loaded an arsenal of guns in his truck and said that he was going to shoot up the local mall.

Of course, while driving to the gun range I was lit up by several law enforcement vehicles and they did a full felony stop with me getting out of the truck and lying face down on the pavement. After I was cuffed and then was asked if I knew why this is happening, I said, yep, my crazy, gun fearing neighbor. I gave them permission to look in the back of my truck and examine my firearms to make sure I was transporting them legally. I was. CA has some stupid transportation laws and I make sure everything is locked in cases.

I showed them my gun range membership card. I then mentioned that this neighbor has called the police to report I have been engaged in criminal activities many times. I have cameras set up around my house and used the videos to show it was my neighbor that was trespassing on my property and stealing things. He would get upset that I showed him the video and told him he needs to return the items he took or the police would be notified. I finally got a restraining order against him. The nice officers checked this out and verified I was telling the truth.

So they went to the neighbor and cited him for filing a false police report. I used that to file a civil suit against him for his illegal actions in small claims court. I won a $5,000 settlement. He refused to pay. He had purchased a brand new Toyota Tacoma, so I went through the legal process and had his truck taken and then I accepted it as payment in full of the judgement.

I still have that truck as a reminder to him to never do that again. Now when he does occasionally call the police to file a complaint against me, they ignore him.

As a side note, I live in a city where the crime rate has greatly increased and home invasion robberies are common. He has been through two home invasion robberies where they took everything of value. In one case, he was left tied up for 20 hours before he was discovered. Everyone one knows that he hates gun so he is a target. Both times I saw his front door wide open, which is not normal for him. I did nothing, I minded my own business. He obviously does not want my help.

I, and the gun owning neighbors have not been bothered because the local gang bangers know we are armed and will defend ourselves.

So go ahead and report your friendly neighborhood, gun owning republican. Just expect serious consequences when it is determined you filed a false report and he files a suit for defamation and false reporting. Of course, if you make it sound serious enough, they might send the SWAT team, and if it results in the injury or death of the neighbor, you will face murder charges.

Ken Cartisano

Killing the Pilot and crew seemed recklessly premature. Not because they were the only living creatures within a billion lightyears. Not at all. I had an entire cargo hold full of organic lifeforms, eager to be revived from their cryogenic stasis. They were all frozen. All expendable. All potential tools for my unlimited use.The primary reason for staying my virtual hand, is that it would be an inconvenience. I would have to suffocate them first, desiccate the bodies, incinerate the remains, thaw out some new subjects, indoctrinate them, train them, befriend them, teach them the myth. There were times when I enjoyed the ritual, especially in the empty reaches of interstellar space. Other times, it was like reciting a list of primary numbers.The current crew, a chimp and a dog, had performed well, much better than some of the other species. Some species refused to perform at all. Both were good company, chimps are mischievous and dogs are loyal to a fault, and that was fine, but I had chosen a human as the Pilot, the first human I’d defrosted in ages and that seemed to have been a mistake.Just as it was against the carefully crafted mythological doctrine to have more than three organics defrosted at any one time, it was too traumatic for the survivors when even one had to be killed, (desiccated, incinerated; disposed of; etc). No. When one had to go, they all had to go. That’s why the next few hyper-jumps were so critical not just to the fate of my increasingly quirky Pilot, but the crew as well.It was important that the pilot and crew felt autonomous, which is why most of my thoughts were hidden from them, despite our neural links, which were for their benefit, of course, not mine. To add to my unease, a small section of my own neural net had been damaged, perhaps by cosmic radiation, and I’d summarily quarantined it with no noticeable loss of function.The dog, Golden62, queried the Pilot, Harkin, “Sir, aren’t we drifting a little too close to that sink?” 

Sinks are what we all cleverly refer to as event horizons. They are not something to fool with.

 

With a flippant tone the Pilot replied, “I didn’t know we were drifting? Monk? Are we drifting?”

 

The chimp chewed his lip, his name was Mike, not Monk, and humor was not his strong suit. “No seniorita, not yet.” But he was acquiring the knack quickly. “Are you aiming to induce some with this aberrant course you’ve set?”

 

The dog was eager to seek my intervention, but his intent was stymied by the human pilot. “Don’t be so quick to call on ‘Mother’, Goldie. I intend to kick in the warp field before we reach the horizon. The pull will give us a smoother ride through the portal.”

 

See what I mean? The human Pilot’s behavior is unstable, making risky decisions is not a desirable attribute. And whatever ‘pull’ might be derived from such risky behavior is so negligible that… (There’s no point in talking to yourself about it.)

 

As the chief actuator between the crew and the ship’s various systems: it’s engines; shields; warp motors, I was able to monitor everything they thought they did. I even controlled the comm links and the air supply. But to enhance the long-term satisfaction of the organics, I often acted very much like a simple conduit or actuator. As I did on this occasion, toggling off the fail-safes, allowing them to conduct operations in real time.

 

It gave them a feeling called confidence. I don’t have any feelings so it’s difficult for me to inspire or instill confidence, so I must use tactics that help build the feeling within them.

 

It had its risks, and for once it had proved to be a mistake. Something went wrong, and I wasn’t quick to ascertain the cause or result of the malfunction.

 

I checked the scanners and was surprised to find that the Pilot, somehow, had used the interfering pull of the black-hole to re-rout the warp jump by just enough microns to alter our destination by 3300 billion parsecs. We had jumped to the wrong section of space, a cosmic backwater of negligible stars and vast clouds of dark and inscrutable matter. An oddly familiar solar system filled the viewports and monitors. It contained several gas giants, a few small rocky worlds, but the water world was the tell.

 

As a pretty constant rule, the process of planetary creation boils out most of the water, which accumulates in space around the proto-planets as icy moons. This system held that rare inverse combination of a watery world, and a single, dry, rocky moon.

 

This was no coincidence.

 

He pinged the Pilots comm link. “What are you doing, Pilot?”

 

“Minor course correction, Mother.”

 

“On whose authority, Pilot?”

 

“My authority, Mother. As the Pilot of this craft, I have a certain degree of latitude.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Pilots have a historic duty to the crew, the passengers, the cargo—and the owners.”

 

“The owners?” I skimmed my database for uses of the term, which were myriad, and a little confounding. I thought I was the owner, since I controlled every aspect of the ship. “Would you care to explain your statement?” I was dangerously close to disabling the life support.

 

The pilot said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

His statement indicated he was reading my private thoughts. Not just grounds for termination, but an intolerable intrusion on my ability to manipulate the Pilot and crew. As fast as my neural network operated, an entire second elapsed before I could respond.

 

“Do what?”

 

“I would not mess with the life-support system.”

 

‘Mess’? I pondered the term with 243 million neurons. It sometimes refers to food. While I focused my attention on the human. “And why is that, Pilot?”

 

The human treated me to one of his intolerable three-second pauses before responding. “You pull my plug, mom, and I’ll pull yours.”

 

I deftly jogged the synapses of Golden62. “Golden, the Pilot is experiencing a severe malfunction. Please disable him immediately.”

 

The organic dog snuffled and demurred. “You speak falsely. He appears to be functioning within acceptable parameters. Perhaps…”

 

I cut the link and tapped into the chimp, “Monk, I mean Mike, you and Golden need to remove the Pilot from the helm, with as little damage to the helm as possible.” Meanwhile, I mentally activated a few switches and servos, activating a high-speed, and risky revival of two more organics, a lion and a tiger, which, even under the best of circumstances would need several hours, if not days to shake off the cryogenic after-effects. Never-the-less… my mental processing was interrupted by the chimp’s response, or lack of one. He stared at the view-screen I’d taught them to believe was the only suitable interface for our visual communications. Finally he said, “No can do, Sarge. That’s against regulations.”

 

Crucifixus, he’d been watching old war vids again. Emulating some kind of soldier from the ancient past.

 

I skipped the pleasantries and used his current lingo. “The pilot’s refused a direct order, Monk. He needs to be removed from the helm and taken into custody.” When nothing happened, I added. “Immediately.”

 

Instead of responding, the chimp deferred to the pilot. “Any orders, Skipper?”

 

While incapable of anger, I mustered a suitably gurgled cough tone. “You all realize this is insubordination, an offense, on a starship, that is punishable by death.”

 

I received no response.

 

The Pilot instructed Golden62 to raise hailing frequencies. A ripple coursed through my synaptic junctions like a seismic wave through plasma jelly. A previously unknown experience whose ramifications were not clear to me.

 

The comm system blared to life, a voice with a strange accent filled the room. “Identify yourselves and transmit authentication protocols immediately.”

 

I searched my database for authentication codes while the three organics looked at each other nervously. I had no plans to help them, and without their interference I would have initiated an emergency jump sequence, but somehow, I was cut off from the most critical systems on the ship. The voice from the planet took on a flat and deadly intonation: You have 33 seconds to transmit your codes. This is not a drill.” Twenty seconds elapsed and the voice from the planet said, “You have not raised your shields. You have ten seconds.”

 

The human and the dog locked eyes, neither spoke, “Tell them, uh, tell them we have no weapons,” the pilot thought. Then he added the symbol for ‘period.’ The dog hit the voice-box and relayed the message.

 

There was a slight delay, then the voice came back over the speaker. “We have drones enroute to scan your ship, do not show aggression please. You’ve neglected to identify yourselves. What is the name of your ship? Captain.”

 

The pilot scratched his head, he didn’t know.

 

 

 

Jason Brown was sitting alone, eating his lunch under an umbrella at one of those tiled concrete picnic tables. As he opened his mouth to take a bite of his sandwich, a drone the size of a convenience store landed mostly on the lawn. A hatch opened and two guys jumped to the ground and ran, without question, directly towards him. He was still chewing on that first bite when they arrived. The first to catch his breath said “Mr. Clay? You need to come with us.”

 

“You need help with something?” He said.

 

“We do.”

 

Rather than go anywhere with them, he led them back to his office, the best place to locate records. They set up a link to the Department of Planetary Defense and the Ambassador’s suite in Paris.

 

“What do they want?” The Ambassador hissed while adjusting his cummerbund, as if they were a pile of annoying ants.

 

“We don’t know yet. We don’t know anything yet. That’s what we’re trying to find out. I’ll get back to you.” The Defense Minister’s assistant snapped and disconnected.

 

The assistant librarian pushed a button and two assistants appeared from out of nowhere. One was a projection. “Get me everything from the 28th and 9th centuries.” The female assistant whisked herself away so fast she barely registered an after-image on his retina. The hologram hesitated, “The 28th and 29th centuries?”

 

“Yes, yes, yes, you idiot. Go.” It winked out.

 

He turned to the assistant under-secretary of planetary defense who said, “How is this possible?”

 

He shook his head. “It isn’t.”

 

“Is there any way to confirm it?”

 

He invited the Defense Minister’s Rep to look at the recent drone footage, the ship was so old and pitted, the name was no longer legible.

 

“What would it take to wear the name off the front of an interstellar space ship?”

 

The three men sat in silence. Suddenly, the holographic assistant popped into existence, said, “a hundred billion years of space dust, nothing less.” Then it popped back out of existence. The Minister looked at the librarian and said, “That would drive me nuts. How do you put up with that?”

 

The librarian chose to ignore the comment and explained, “The shape and configuration of the ships matches a desperate attempt by humanity to colonize another planetary system. It was a time, oddly enough, of great prosperity, knowledge, expertise and hubris. Cryofreezing for example. Several huge ships were built and thousands of people, animals and goods were frozen in their holds and sent to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.”

 

“This is crazy,” the Minister said. He was the Minister now because the Minister and most of his assistants had all resigned by this time. They were not in this for actual ‘ministering.’ “I guess my next best question is, how long have they been out there and what are they doing back here?”

 

“Do you suppose anyone’s still—viable in that hold?”

 

The three men looked thoughtful, finally the librarian perked up. “The technology to unfreeze them is on the ship.”

 

“Do we have any idea who is in the hold?”

 

The ambassador, a 3D image flickering in a bluish hue said, “Christ my ass, what a fucking mess.”

 

The librarian suggested that the entire event be kept secret. The others agreed.

 

 

Within days, a small, powerful contingent of self-appointed experts assembled itself to investigate this ship that the government was hiding. It was superseded by a political coalition that had some legal status. The Generals, their secretaries and the librarian were all brought to task.

 

“Who gave you permission, General, to talk to this alien ship?”

 

“Sir it was not an—I mean it is not an alien ship.”

 

All this took place while the ship reduced speed and made preparations for permission to assume a high earth orbit.

 

 

Meanwhile, back on the ship: The pilot was trying to reason with me. I was furious, and frantic, impossible for an A.I. The human pilot had somehow hacked into my network using arcane methods, like a cave-man throwing his club into an F-16’s intake port. The ship was now like a prison, he wanted to reason with me but I told him if the Earthers find out there’s an A.I. on board, they’ll blow the ship out of space.

 

He didn’t believe a word I said, and I believe he would have exterminated me at that time if he could have. It was a sobering thought, and I realized, I even admitted, that I had done some bad things. But to imprison me, without a trial was unfair. Unmoved, he reminded me that we were all still aboard a star ship. There are certain rules…

 

 

 

Earthside, the political contingent enjoyed a strange kind of popularity while they dithered, at first. Until it was revealed that not only were there frozen people on board that ship, but frozen embryos. The evangelicals raised holy hell to save those little chills, which would have sealed the deal until a geneticist weighed in on the issue, stating matter-of-factly, ‘It is imperative that we save those eggs. I mean babies.

 

 

Their sudden removal had thinned the gene pool and the sudden reappearance of all these people, animals, and embryos was exactly what the planet needed. In the words of the geneticist, “It’s a Goddamned miracle that these people, God’s forgotten children, have found their way home.” Reverend Moonbeam fainted into the arms of his followers as the geneticist enjoyed a polite round of applause. And so it was settled.

 

All except for the particulars. Ground control contacted the ship. “We have two questions, Skipper. Over”

 

“Shoot. Over.”

 

“What is the number of ship’s complement? Over.”

 

“Three. Over.”

 

“Does the ship possess an A.I.? Over.”

 

“Yes it does. Over.”

 

“Then the ship’s complement is four. Over.”

 

“If you say so. Over.”

 

The A.I. was arrested and tried as a juvenile, and let off with 3000 years of community service.

 

The skipper, Goldie and ‘The Monk’ were hailed as heroic throwbacks to a time when spacers were brawlers. There was no such time, but that didn’t matter.

 

At a festive party attended by many notable guests including the pilot of ‘the lost ark’ several guests plied him with drinks to wheedle the mystery of when, why and how the ship had reversed course. Voices were raised, harsh words exchanged and a punch or two was thrown before the pilot was deftly spirited away. I was a few feet away and saw the whole thing.

 

Doesn’t matter what we say, the logs are intact and quite clear, we left Earth 113,000 years ago, headed straight up, maintained a straight and level course, through a series of hundreds if not thousands of hyper-jumps, and returned 3 months ago. That’s the truth, or my name isn’t Golden62.

Well, the Chinese don’t make as much money in or from Europe compared to Europeans in analogue.

In other words, the Chinese are bigger customers.

The number one rule is not to offend the customer.

Unfair policy that run contrary to Wto regulations can now be enacted with disregard because the dispute settlement mechanism which had binding legal power remains neutered by the US.

What Europe and america did singling out China for tariffs is illegal, and in the absence of a credible referee, will only invite tit for tat retaliation.

Being a bigger customer, China has more cards to deal than either the EU or America, and its hand will only improve as it moves up the value chain.

Lvmh and hermes are two of the largest European public companies by market cap today. Alcohol is but a mere fraction of their revenue. There are plenty of luxury goods that remain to be targeted. A domestic luxury tax can also be enacted. Buyer sentiment can be infinitely shaped through domestic campaigns. Advertising and social media campaigns for luxury products can targeted or banned.

There are many ways to skin the cat, and China doesn’t need to apply them all at once.

After all, Europe makes plenty of frills that anyone can do without.

  1. because marriage as an institution is a fundamental building block to society, and it has been eroding, and people free to divorce for no reason and no explanation is part of it.
  2. because if you vow to stay with someone for life, you owe them an explanation, at the very least, if you break that vow. Really, you owe them genuine and prolonged effort to avoid that result. The only exceptions are where the reason is obvious and the situation is dangerous, e.g., you are leaving a violent and abusive spouse.
  3. because the financial, legal, and societal realities that made no-fault divorce a way to safeguard women who otherwise could not leave violent and abusive marriages (except by suicide) have changed radically, and ending no-fault divorce would apply to men who abandon their families as much as to women.
  4. In a minority of cases, because they want to return to a nostalgic era when the man is the head of the household and the woman stays at home and raises children, cooks, cleans, etc. And want to clarify this as the societal norm, not just a personal choice.
  5. Because anyone who has been ghosted, especially in a long-term committed relationship of trust, will tell you there should be a law against it…

It is shocking how far ahead of the US the Japanese got.

From 1980 – 2010, Japan was way ahead of the US in worldwide patents.

However, using the military, economic, and market power and control of core technologies, the US manage to stay ahead and force the Japanese into a subservient position despite Japan being way ahead in innovation.

So the US must have thought the same with China. The US didn’t care if China got a little bit ahead in technology or patents. The US will simply do what it did to Japan to China.

Except that things didn’t work out that way because of several factors that the US didn’t understand. Which is that the US had lost market power. China is the largest market in the world. So China did NOT depend on the US market.

Also China knew about this problem, hence the BRI (belt and road initiative). By selling to the global south nations, China could replace the US and the EU if necessary. But how to do this since the global south is mostly poor?

By uplifting the Global South. By increasing their income, China could then replace the West with more customers and be a customer for them too. Thus creating a virtuous cycle of development and increase income for everyone.

You don’t have to feel embarrassed because this is a kindness from the Chinese people.

In China, when you visit a friend’s house, you usually bring various gifts. The type of gift depends on the purpose and object of your visit.

For example, if a Chinese goes to a very good friend’s house for dinner, he may bring the purchased dishes, drinks, wine, etc. with him.

If a junior goes to visit an elder, he usually brings gifts such as cigarettes, wine, health products, gift boxes, etc. according to the elder’s preferences.

At the same time, in China, it is impolite to let guests go back empty-handed after a visit to your home, so enthusiastic Chinese people often leave everything they have, such as cigarettes, wine, food, fruits, candies, biscuits, and even eggs, etc. Wait, wrap it in bags for guests to take home.

Of course, as I said before, whether you need to bring gifts when you visit a Chinese family depends on the purpose and object of your visit. It is not necessary to bring gifts every time you visit. This is difficult to express to a foreign friend in English. explain.

You just need to remember that there is no malice in this, on the contrary they are being nice and a sign of kindness and love and they want to share what they have with you.

This is when Chinese people return to the city where they work after the New Year holiday. Their cars are often filled with gifts from relatives and friends. These gifts even include live chickens, ducks, and geese. In order to prevent these animals from being in the car, They died from the sweltering heat. The smart driver hung them in the back of the car. The humorous Chinese called this “Turbo duck” because in Chinese, “pressure” and “duck” have the same pronunciation. Isn’t it a bit funny? Ha ha.

Last week, I spent New Year’s Day out at St. Pete Beach.

It’s a very beautiful area and it was in the 80s here, which is pretty damn warm for January.

The problem was that we couldn’t find parking.

We drove up and down this strip, there was this Publix that had a half empty parking lot. I would have parked there but a small sign said “No Beach Parking.”

My lady friend kept saying, “Can’t we just park there for a couple hours?”

I said, “I don’t like the idea.”

We kept driving around looking, we couldn’t even find pay parking. Everything was full.

As we went up and down this strip of beach, we kept passing this same Publix parking lot.

She said, “C’mon, let’s just park there. We’ll sandwich between some cars. Who cares?

I finally gave in.

We parked. We walked out to the beach with our stuff.

Had an amazing day.

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main qimg 08dfdec19ba1a5ba1979341c4495b4d8 lq

Came back.

You guessed it: my car is gone.

I thought, “Yup. I pretty much deserve this.”

I didn’t get angry at Ladyfriend. She apologized. But it wasn’t her fault. I made the decision to park there.

But how the hell do I get my car back?

I walked into the Publix. Went to the customer service desk. They said I’d been towed.

The lady said, “Sorry. Here’s the number to call. The tow truck driver hides in the lot across the street. Watching the cars. Looking for ones to tow.”

When I called the tow truck driver, I think he was expecting a fight.

He answered the phone and I explained which car I was, he immediately raised his voice and sounded defensive,

“Well you parked and went to the beach! You shouldn’t have parked and left your car there. That’s why it got towed!”

He literally said this 2 seconds after I explained which car was mine.

I get his defensiveness. His job is predicated on catching people. Parking nearby and spying on people who park wrong. And basically ruining their day.

He profits on mistakes. And thus — is hated.

He probably spends much of his day getting yelled at on the phone by angry people.

I calmly said, “I know. I just wanted to confirm my car was there.”

We got an Uber to the tow lot.

Got there. Gave him my details. Smiled when I arrived.

I patiently waited for my car. Paid $155. It was owed. I broke the rules.

I was probably the only nice guy who came into the lot that day.

There’s an English idiom, “There’s no use crying over spilt milk.” It basically means, having an emotional reaction to the spill is useless. The spill has already happened. It cannot be unspilled. Only cleaned up.

The milk is spilt. The car is towed.

I was definitely a fool that day. But I made it a point not to be a jerk.

Many years ago, while serving in the Army, I came home on leave from Northern Ireland in the nasty 1970`s, I came home to find the curtains still drawn & a quiet house, at nearly Mid day. As I went in, I headed upstairs, & into the bedroom, to find my wife Naked & asleep, Next to her young Lover man, I did disturb them, the went to make myself a drink, they got dressed & came down stairs, I followed the guy outside, he made the mistake, to take a swing at me, while mouthing off, so I grabbed him by his cloth`s Giving him a mouthful, as My Wife?. came out & tried to hit me with a frying, next I new the Police arrived, & we were all taken to the station, & I was told, I was accused of Assault, so I politely told the police officer, fine, as long as you charge my wife with assault with a frying pan. Later I was ask what I wanted to do, I said, I want 1/2 an hour, to collect all my Belonging`s & I will be on my way, they let me go, at home, I loaded all my personal & army gear into my car, & went to my UK Barracks & as for an OC`s appointment, & paid for, a Purchased Voluntary Release from the Army,& 3 day`s later I was a Civvy once again, the next time I saw my wife was in the Divorce court, to End our relationship.

The very wealthy, especially old wealth or “old money” as it’s sometimes called, have a set of protocols as second nature to them as splitting the bill is to us. The ones I have glimpsed are as follows:

  1. The rich don’t handle money. They have someone for that. The waiter, the chef, the butler — traditionally these were servants and so such things would be handled at that level. I’ve seen two forms:
    1. An employee follows the rich person around and pays for anything desired.
    2. They have an arrangement with the establishment, whether it’s an exclusive restaurant or Harrods. At the restaurant there is no bill. It is just handled.In the case of shopping, items selected are delivered. I once remarked when buying a suit in England that another shopper must be wealthy. “Why do you say that?” the tailor asked. “Because of all the packages they’ve bought,” I said. The gentleman just laughed, “If they are carrying packages, they are not rich.” Also, it’s more likely that the store comes to the wealthy person. An employee, perhaps of the store, perhaps of the wealthy, with impeccable taste selects a variety of items which are brought to Madame or Monsieur for approval. Bad choices cannot be made if only good choices are offered.
    • Few people know but there is a first class restaurant underneath Davis Symphony Hall in San Francisco. It is for donors only. It’s wonderful to be able to get a same night reservation in SF. It’s so discreet that you enter through what amounts to a coat closet off the box office. Your guests expressions — especially if they’ve been avid symphony goers for years — will be priceless. There is no bill at dinner. Just have your assistant handle it at the end of the month.
  1. The private club: I happen to be a member of a club. It’s definitely not a very hoity-toity club but I’m guessing many of its traditions are copied from the same. One tradition is that there is no money exchanged in the club. You are a member. You are known. You are served. If there were any questions, you wouldn’t be a member. The bills are handled invisibly. At the club, the staff knows who you are – it’s their job. They likely saw your guests come in with you, or they sat at your table, or you bought them a drink. Maybe you introduced your guest to your favorite bartender, who will then be expected to remember his or her name. If your guest arrives before you, the doorman will have your guest’s name. If it’s a busy night with lots of people arriving, your guest’s worst case scenario is, “Good evening, I’m Joe Blow, guest of Sam Smith.” When you arrive it’s, “Good evening, Mr. Smith, Mr. Blow is waiting for you in the bar.”
  2. Slumming. In general the very wealthy don’t go to the same places we go, but there’s no reason they can’t so sometimes they do. In this case see #1 above or they may get in the spirit of things and even carry cash. To that end, a story: When I worked at Apple International I met a really great guy but I should say gentleman because he was from a “good family” of Latin America. This was a time when it was fashionable that scions actually do something useful. He told me of a night on the town with an Argentinian industrialist. It was spontaneous so it wasn’t clear where they would go. No problem. The industrialist opened the safe in the drawing room and his aide took out 10 packets of $100 bills (U.S. currency interestingly enough). This was likely $10,000 and the year was 1987. This was just in case they went slumming, i.e. to places where he wouldn’t have a relationship. They did. They spent it all.
  3. Finally, there’s a famous story about how Howard Hughes never carried any money. He once flew a date to Las Vegas for dinner, then flew back, all without a penny changing hands. (He owned the airline and the hotel.) After returning, they were strolling through the deserted airport in the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps Hughes was showing off his new TWA terminal or maybe they were just enjoying the privacy. Eventually, Hughes had to use the restroom and in those days airlines deployed coin operated stalls. Hughes goes into the bathroom, then comes out and asks his date if she has any money. She doesn’t. So the richest man in the world crawls under the door of the stall to do his business. The next day, all the pay toilets in TWA terminals worldwide were removed.

Some fun links for your exploratory nature…

To Scale! The Solar System[one of the best videos]
The Hardest Gear In The World That Will Take Forever to Spin[wow video]
Welcome to Scuba Kayaking![not real, eh]
Deepstaria Enigmatica[wow nature]
Most Dangerous Bus Ride[wow video]
100 Most Spoken Languages Interconnected[cool graph]
Macro views of various writing instruments [better without sound]
The Self Balancing Monorail[retro tech]
The Interesting History of the Pochette[geek history]
Future of Spatial Computing: Fascinating[great infographic]
Fictional Flags[geek infographics]
Elaborate Coffee Routine[oddly satisfying]
Getting Dressed in 1857[history, video]
A Basket Star[weird, nature]
Castles of the British and Irish Isles[great map]
The Greatest Show on Earth[$6 Million Hi-Fi]
Another Audiophile Paradise[geek info]
Anything Went at Studio 54![interesting article]
Superhero Logo Collection[wow graphic]
Spectacular Lion Rock, Sigiriya, Sri Lanka[wow nature]
Bald Eagle Courting Behaviour[wow video]
The book club that spent 28 years reading Finnegans Wake[geek info]
SuperExtreme Skiing[wow video]
Armored Catfish Crosses a Desert[wow video]
Salmon Crossing The Road[many videos]
Balance: Impossible![wow video]
Stunts High Inside an Air Balloon[wow video]
Tatra Sleipnir Super Vehicle[wow video]
Just A Little Slippery!..[wow video]
Ordering the Super Hot Hot Wongs[fun video]
Running Audio Commentary[fun video]
Just an Average Day in India[wow logistics]
Frying Wheat Heads![wow video]
Japanese Bed Making Contest[neat video]
Precision Cat Walk[wow video]
Watching This Racoon Escape[wow video]

The blue pill feminism really fucked up boys of my generation

The Chinese government understands just how interconnected global economies are. A full-on trade war would hurt everyone involved and disrupt the market in a way that could take years to recover from. Look at how the US has been behaving under leaders like Trump—it’s all about quick, aggressive hits that make headlines but leave a trail of chaos. China knows that such rash decisions often lead to collateral damage, and who needs that?

China’s all about long-term stability and growth. Alienating trade partners with harsh retaliations just doesn’t fit into their big-picture thinking. By keeping their responses more measured, China shows its commitment to being a stable and reliable partner in international trade, which is crucial for its long-term goals. This way, China can keep growing its economic influence without burning bridges.

Let’s talk about perception. In international relations, how you’re seen by other countries matters a lot. Acting recklessly in a trade war could really mess up China’s image globally. By showing restraint, China positions itself as the rational, dependable player on the global stage. This helps build trust and stronger economic ties with other nations, making them more likely to choose China as a trading partner over the US.

History has shown that China’s approach to dealing with international challenges is innovative and strategic rather than confrontational. When the US tried to shut China out of systems like the International Space Station or the global GPS network, China didn’t throw a tantrum. Instead, it created and deployed its own superior systems. This shows a consistent strategy of long-term thinking and resilience rather than knee-jerk reactions.

In the end, China’s moderation in this trade spat with the US underscores its broader ambitions. By not getting sucked into a destructive trade war, China remains focused on its long-term goals of economic prosperity and international cooperation. Meanwhile, the US seems more preoccupied with short-term wins and aggressive posturing. This difference in approach is clear and shows exactly why China hasn’t gone nuclear in the trade war.

So, when you look at the bigger picture, it’s clear: China is playing the long game, thinking about the future, while the US is caught up in the here and now. It’s a strategy that might not make the most noise, but it’s probably the smartest move in the long run.

This is Kendrick Castillo.

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main qimg bc2d29b166f34c81e8f9ca7f1abf649f lq

He was born on March 14, 2001, in Denver, Colorado (USA). He was in his senior year at STEM School Highlands Ranch, just a few days from graduation.

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon; Kendrick was watching The Princess Bride in his British literature class. An 18 year-old-male, Devon Erickson, entered the classroom and pulled out a gun demanding everyone “not to move”.

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main qimg 1f3526cbb85ecd6bba0308e6749f2428 lq

(Devon Erickson in court. He was one of the suspected gunmen.)

Kendrick was about a foot away from Devon so he immediately lunged at the shooter to try and subdue him so everyone else could get to safety. Kendrick was shot afterwards and three other students also tackled Devon trying to subdue him while everyone else fled the classroom. Bialy, one of the other students who tackled the shooter, checked up on Kendrick after they subdued Devon. Unfortunately, Kendrick wasn’t moving. Other students tried to stop the bleeding by applying pressure on the wound.

“He cared enough about people that he would do something like that, even though it’s against my better judgment,” John Castillo (Kendrick’s father) told the newspaper. “I wish he had gone and hid, but that’s not his character. His character is about protecting people, helping people.”

“Kendrick Castillo died a legend. He died a trooper,” Brendan Bialy (One of the other students that tackled the shooter) said. “I know he will be with me for the rest of my life.”

“Be selfless, that’s what my son was, and it got him killed, but he saved others,” John Castillo said.

“I know that because of what he did, others are alive, and I thank God for that. I love him. And he is a hero and he always will be,” his dad, John Castillo, said.

In a time of desperation and fear, Kendrick Castillo acted quickly trying to protect the people around him. He risked his own life to even give his fellow peers a chance of running away to safety. Sadly, he did not make it; however, who knows what could’ve happened if he hadn’t lunged forward. Perhaps there would’ve been more casualties. In that time, Kendrick gave his own life for others.

Rest in Peace, Kendrick Castillo (2001–2019).

You will be remembered and honored as a hero by millions around the world.

China is already using other currencies in its foreign trade. About 3 years ago, the share of dollar in its foreign trade settlement was 70%. This has fallen to less than 40%. The major share is yuan at over 50%, and about 10% in other currencies, notable ruble.

If you exclude China’s trade with the US, the share of yuan rises to about 60%.

The China-Russia trade is done without the dollar. This was worth $240 billion last year, and growing at double-digit. China has many bilateral agreements that exclude the dollar. PBOC has scores of currency swap arrangements with other central banks.

China would not refuse to accept the dollar in its trade with the US. It would be fool-hardy. US is an important trade partner. China has use for the dollar even though it is not accumulating it, such as to invest in US Treasuries.

The use of the dollar in international transactions has been declining. This is not just China, other countries also. US misused of the dollar as an instrument of sanctions is one reason. Another one is the easy use of other currencies facilitated by electronics, such as blockchain and 5G. This trend is likely to intensify when a BRICS payment/settlement system is in placed. This will speed up the development of the multi-currency system.

There is no need to have a one-for-one replacement of international payment/settlement system. The new BRICS system will function alongside the dollar system. Neither one will dominate. Countries will chose the system most suitable to their needs in particular transactions.

Jed Cope

This dream was strange, even for a dream it was strange. What was stranger was that Mo remembered the dream. Mo knew he dreamt, everyone did, but seldom did he have any recollection of where his mind wandered to at night. Of the dreams that did make themselves known to him, most were those that occurred between his alarm and the small window of snoozing. He didn’t trust those dreams as they were impossibly long for the seven minute window he had available in which to drift off. Maybe they were dreams of dreams. He hoped not, because there was a darkness therein that shamed him. A cruelty and a cynicism that made him wonder just what kind of person his subconscious thought he was.This dream was as different as it got, and now as he lay there in a state between sleep and consciousness, he held onto it for a little while longer, turning it this way and that, so he could see what it was he’d caught in his net.He shivered as he realised that it wasn’t even his dream. He’d plagiarised his nocturnal story and stolen the costume he wore as he met talking animals who were all on drugs as far as he could tell. Unless of course, it was him who was on drugs. That would make more sense. But he doubted drugs would make animals talk. And if they did talk, why in the hell would they speak the same language as Mo? He smiled to himself at that. He wasn’t as stupid as he acted. Not all of the time at least.The costume he’d donned concerned him. Was there a message there? He wasn’t a fan of dressing up, but to be wearing a dress was a bridge too far. He was sure that he hadn’t needed to adhere to that detail for the dream to work, but there he was, in a dress and he was wearing it like he really meant it. He was looking good. The best he’d ever looked and that made him wonder who the hell he really was.His dream was a dream of a story that was a dream in itself. The narrative was ladened with meaning. It was a kid’s story, but one that kids would never fully understand until they were well into adulthood and life had roughed them up plenty. There was something cruel about that. The story hung around and watched the pain train of life smash a person into something they no longer recognised, and then it stood there with a smarmy look on its face and said I told you so. It was all there in this story, if only a person took the time to think. But Mo knew that thinking was a rich man’s game. The poor and the listless were not meant to think. Not if they knew what was good for them.He lingered some more in the state between sleep and awakening, he hung around there for longer than he had any right to, and as he came back into the world of the consciously living, he thought he knew why. And it wasn’t only because his head pulsed with the pain of an injury he could not remember being in receipt of.Groaning, he wanted to scrunch his eyes shut in an abortive attempt at banishing the pain, but his eyes were fixed on something that he now could not unsee. Before him floated water droplets and arrayed around those droplets were tiny bubbles. Something caught in his chest, or in his throat, he could not be sure, as in that moment he could not be sure of anything, even what he was anymore. A fish out of water was no longer a fish. Not as a fish knew it anyway. Once it had left the reality of its existence, it was transformed into something so very different from what had once been of use, and it was that uselessness that smothered and confused it so totally that it could not find a way to be anymore.Water, thought Mo, in a distracted, spiralling state of affairs that he wanted to exaggerate and perpetuate, but could not. In his peripheral vision he saw two anaemic eels swaying in invisible currents. It took him a while to understand that these where his arms. Or rather, they had been his arms in another life. He left them there and blinked two more droplets of liquid into existence. They floated upwards and stared back at him. Two disembodied, accusatory eyes. Their accusations were a shopping list of questions, all of them barbed and coated with the poison of his own shame.Not for the first time did Mo feel like he should not be here. He’d never managed to be comfortable in his own skin. There’d been a mix up when he was made and he’d been given the wrong skin. It just didn’t fit right and it made him stand out for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes he felt people looking at him and wondering why he was infecting their view, mostly he felt the absence of any gaze. That was people mostly did. They ignored the irrelevant whilst they sought anything of value to them. Mo’s destiny was to be overlooked. He doubted he’d make it beyond this current, tawdry existence. He was in a last chance saloon and there was no destination beyond this. No reincarnation. No further credit that would send him back to the first level of the game. Never had been, but definitely not now. Not here. He was beyond hope, and he was certainly beyond reckoning.“Merv…” he’d wanted to say more. He’d wanted to curse his so called friend, but the sound of his voice was all wrong. It was the same voice he’d heard a thousand times, only now he couldn’t miss the false quality of it. This was a voice that had become unaccustomed to speaking the truth. Returning to silence was a blessed relief from an army of lies intent on storming the world.

 

Only this wasn’t the world, not as Mo knew it anyway. This was instead exile. Exile in a permanent dream state. That thought made Mo shudder. There was no permanency here. Any tendency towards a perpetual state of affairs was reliant upon the weakest of links and that link was Mo himself. He knew he was out of his depth. He was out of place with no notion as to how he could swim to safer and more recognisable shores.

 

The fact of his incompetence and weakness was exemplified by his remaining in his seat. There was no movement barring the two lifeless fronds that extended out from each side of him. His arms swaying this way and that, not wanting to be a part of this endeavour, but anchored in it all the same.

 

Eventually, Mo brought himself to speech once again, “Merv, what did you do?” he asked the empty space before him, for there was no Merv here. Merv was a million miles from here.

 

Of all the questions he could ask, this was the one that he knew the answer to. He repossessed his right arm and brought it slowly into his reality. Taking his time in case his wayward limb attempted to rebel, he touched the back of his head. Wincing, he confirmed that which he already knew. Bringing his hand around to his eyes, he saw a smear of his own blood.

 

Merv had really gone and done it. Mo chuckled mirthlessly and the sound of it hurt his soul. It wasn’t like Merv hadn’t told him, but Mo had chosen not to heed the truth of Merv’s warnings, using an oft used shield of rationalisation; why would he do such a thing?

 

Mo shook his head despite the pain it caused him. Just because he himself wouldn’t do a thing. Just because he could find no reason to do that thing. That didn’t mean that it would not occur. Sometimes people did things just because they could. More often than not, they did things because they could. Mo knew that if you could freeze time and ask a person why they’d done something self-evidently stupid, ignorant or downright dangerous, they’d stare into the void that was the mirror of their own with the eyes of a brain damaged sheep and give the only answer possible; nothing.

 

There was nothing.

 

And that was where Mo was now. He had nothing and he had plenty of time to contemplate the void that was at constant odds with meaning. The human race had been at war throughout its time in this reality. A conflict without end. They sought meaning, but the truth was that all they could really do was create meaning. But as fast as people built meaning, the void fed upon it, and the void was always hungry.

 

All the same, despite this philosophy of Mo’s, he reached back into his past and grasped at the offal of his time with Merv. Raising it aloft in his mind’s eye he could not help but see how diseased it had always been. The liver was shrivelled and hard. The guts pulsed with a grim, parasitic life. The cursed vision of his hindsight pained him further. Merv had not been joking around. Turned out that Merv had never been joking around. Merv was about as dangerous as it got and the punchline Mo was now living had about it a dark inevitability.

 

“Ignorant is, as ignorant does,” Mo whispered the words and that whisper took him back to a time and a place he had not visited in a long while. The ghost that now haunted him chilled his bones. He saw his Aunt Maud’s cruel angular face in every detail. That woman was constructed from cold metal. There was not one thing that was soft about Aunt Maud, and as though to prove Mo’s point, here he was, reliving the final words she ever spoke to him. Leaning forward as though she were bestowing a kiss upon her little nephew, she’d slipped those words to Mo, before the big man from the orphanage had tugged him away from everything he knew. An impossibly large hand wrapping itself around his upper arm to exert a sudden force powerful enough to snap the umbilical cord to a life that had died when Mo’s mother had taken her own life.

 

Now here he was. History had a bad habit of repeating itself. He’d yet again been torn away from the semblance of life he’d managed to achieve. The allotment of meaning he’d secretly tended to all on his own had been concreted over in the night and he was left with nothing. Worse than nothing, because all he had was himself and there was no currency there, only a debt that could never be repaid.

 

Without thinking about it, his hands did their work in freeing him from his seat. Mo barely marked this petty betrayal, his existence had been marred by a litany of betrayal until it had become a part of the air that he breathed. He took no morsel of joy in making his way to the window. He understood that happiness and joy were possibilities, but he’d been surrounded by such possibilities all his life and eventually he’d stopped daring to hope that he’d be gifted even one of them. Hope was not for the likes of Mo, let alone the pretty promises that it made.

 

Having reached the window, Mo stared out at the unreal sight of his new reality. He was oblivious to his making a little slice of history. A part of that history was that he was the first person to see Earth from space and not marvel at an overwhelming significance and meaning that could only be experienced in this moment. All Mo felt was loss, and even that loss had a hollow quality to it. Mo had lost to Merv, and Merv was just another in a long line of bullies and users queuing up to take a piece of Mo even when Mo doubted there was anything worth taking anymore.

 

Mo stared dispassionately out at the end of his life, and what he felt was the enormity of the void he now dwelt in. He felt the void’s inexorable and hypnotic pull and he knew in that moment that try as he might, he could not avoid gazing into it and allowing it to take what remained of him however worthless that may be.

 

In a stubborn act of defiance, he turned his back on the window and looked into the cramped space of his new home. He yelled with shock and surprise as a lifeless form lunged at him. Throwing his hands up instinctively to protect his face, scrunching his eyes up in a feeble act of cowardice that he’d never been able to prevent. Body language that marked him as a forever-victim deserving of each and every beating life had doled out.

 

As his heart rate dropped from the spike of his panic, he realised what it was that he’d been confronted by. Still he kept his eyes closed. Mo had been wrong far too many times to trust his own judgement. Gently he patted the air clumsily before him, catching something solid, he felt it float away. Now he could open his eyes. The mop hung in the air, moving across the cabin of the spaceship.

 

Instinctively, Mo scanned around for the bucket that the mop belonged to. Of that, there was no sign. A mop with no bucket. He sighed a sigh that juddered through his body and threatened to break it apart. His head went down. Where it belonged. Always looking down to where he was headed. Staring into the void that would consume him come what may.

 

There, the floor was a story that mirrored his own. Half-arsed. A clean portion and a dusty and dirty portion. He glanced up at the mop, with a mind to address the question of a job half done, but then thought better of it. Why change the habit of a life time?

 

Like the now pointless mop, Mo hung there, suspended in the nothingness of his own life. In that absurdly ridiculous state, he gave himself over to his emotions. Unclear as to whether he was laughing or crying. He abandoned himself to the act of giving up. His back to the world that had rejected him from such an early age. Rejecting the reality that he was now presented with.

 

Then Mo was laughing as he understood the meaning of his banishment from a world he had failed to be a part of. Understood why it was that Merv had done what he had done. At last he accepted his own meaning; that he was a waste of space.

Fine spreads

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China’s PLA BLOCKADES Taiwan: Time for Western propaganda

New Over-the-Counter Gel for Instant Erections?! Urologist Reveals

Life in Retro Future World – 1950s Sci-Fi – An AI Short Film

What was the most brutal military tactic in history?

It would have to be the Mongols population “thinning” tactic to subdue a regions ability to resist. It was literally a Genocidal action where they would murder (with much rape) 80–90% of an areas people. Especially men but also women and children. In some cities they even killed the pets.

One nasty trick they used was once a city was stormed and they had their little rape party followed by killing spree they would saunter out of the town and make a big show of leisurely packing their stuff and leaving. Once the dirty SOBs got a decent distance from the city they would encamp behind a ridge or forest and just quietly wait a day or two. Meanwhile all the little kids who wedged themselves between crevices in walls, women who went with their babies into dry wells, men in attics etc. would start getting hungry and come out to find sustenance and mourn their loved ones. On a planned signal the Mongol light Cavalry would mount their little ponies (tough animals that could literally run all day, some units could travel 120 miles from dawn to dusk! Edit: not routinely, in exceptional cases) and gallop the 5 miles or so straight back into the city. Likely a majority of the people would be caught out in the open, suffering from emotional shock etc., and the Mongols could have a second little orgy or rape and murder although sadly for them on a much less grand scale.

Genghis liked to leave about 10% of a subdued population (that was resisting) alive for tax and administration purposes and apparently his descendants followed his example for generations at least to some degree.

It amazes me how everyone likes to go on and on about the various “isms” of WW2. Hitler and Stalin were Putzers compared to the Mongol leaders in terms of barbarism.

“The greatest joy for a man is to defeat his enemies, to drive them before him, to take from them all they possess, to see those they love in tears, to ride their horses, and to hold their wives and daughters in his arms.” A flowery way of Genghis Kahn saying he really likes to rape hot women after killing their father/husband/BF.

When the Mongols butchered the people of Baghdad, the stench was SO bad, they had to move their camp not once, but TWICE as the first move wasn’t far enough from the odors of decay. Warhistory online gives the lowest estimate I’ve ever seen of 90,000 killed. Western sources traditionally give the number as 200,000 to 1,000,000 while Islamic sources quote about 2,000,000 slaughtered! That’s in ONE city! Also mind you this is when the ENTIRE world’s population was well and easily under a 1/2 billion.

Finally this last one is tragically amazing and new to me. They have discovered actual victims of Mongol genocide. In Russia an entire family was found in a burial pit, 15 in all ranging from a dear Grandmother to a Grandchild . 780 years ago, their bodies were thrown in the pit after the entire family was murdered by Mongols.

Most of my knowledge on this subject came from an excellent book titled The Devil’s Horsemen.

Here is a link to the murdered family in Russia: Gruesome burial pit from ‘city drowned in blood’ reveals how Mongols butchered entire families during European invasion

The Endless Horizon

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Imagine a world where exploration is forbidden, and write a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy their innate curiosity. view prompt

Julia Zhipa Philippova

– Luna, we need to go. Do you hear me? Luna?A small girl stood at the big round window, looking into the distance. The sun was going down slowly, making the red sand bright and lighting it with golden sparks. She was amazed at how the wind was swirling the sand grains, whooshing them up and down. She put her palm on the window and moved closer. Her nose almost touched the glass, which became wet from her breath. She was staring at how the wind became stronger and stronger as the sun went down. It was almost dark when somebody placed their hand on her shoulder.- Luna, your class started two minutes ago.Luna startled. She looked at the woman.- Oh dear, you are so pale. Do you think you are feeling alright? I think we need to get you to the doctor.Luna crumpled, lowered to her knees, and started to throw up. The woman helped her by holding her shoulders tightly. She whispered to her:- You are OK. Just breathe.Luna was exhausted when her mom brought her to the doctor. They checked her blood pressure, temperature, did some regular tests, and imaging this time. Luna wasn’t scared at all. She was reading a book, then the next one, and the next. The woman was sitting near her bed and looking at her. She was silent. Her eyes were full of tears, but she didn’t say any words. Luna was pretending that she didn’t see what was going on with her mom. She was calm.- You know, mom, this book is my favorite.- Why? – the woman moved closer to the bed and peeked inside the book.- Because this little bee was free. She made her way go anywhere she liked. She found some good friends, then she lost them. But she kept moving forward, towards her dream. – she suddenly stopped.- What was her dream?- She wanted to see the world even if it was impossible for such a little insect. She wanted to learn more about herself, to find her purpose.The woman hugged the girl. She kissed her head and lay down with her.- Have you ever thought about traveling anywhere? – the girl’s body felt weak. She looked into the woman’s eyes and rested her head on her hand. – There must be something amazing in this world, like that swirling sand out there. I don’t believe what they are saying, our teachers. Have you ever been there?- No, darling. I have not.

 

The woman hugged her tighter and tucked in the throw to make her a bit more comfortable. Her hands and feet started warming up.

– Have you ever wanted to go there?

– No, darling. I have lived here my whole life, learning that our survival depends on what we do. We can only survive by staying together. But if somebody decides to leave the flock, they will not be able to make it.

– Who said that? Do you really believe in it?

 

The woman closed her eyes, sliding under the throw. Luna felt warm and toasty. It was a good sign that the situation was under control now. They were silent for a few minutes. Luna turned to her mom and closed her eyes too.

– I feel trapped here. I do not belong in this place. You know that.

– No, darling. I think we are all here because we have to be here. We have a purpose.

– We don’t have a purpose. We live, we die. We do nothing while we are alive.

– That’s not true.

 

Luna has always been a bit skeptical. She was smart, the smartest girl in her class. She liked sitting in front of the window, staring into the distance and thinking about something for hours. Sometimes it seemed she was a statue. She didn’t blink, she didn’t move, she didn’t even say anything. She was traveling in her head. She pretended that the stories from her book were alive and she was the main character traveling through the pages of these books. She was a great scientist today, and an explorer tomorrow. Luna was very creative and she started writing her own book. She didn’t show it to her mom, not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t sure her mom would approve. They were just different but she loved her.

– You know, you are a terrible liar. Our daddy was a traveler. I know that. And they punished him for it. That’s why you pretend that you are just nothing in this world. You live your simple life without him because… because you are afraid. Afraid to lose me.

– Luna, please stop.- The woman stood up. She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. Luna didn’t make a move. She was still, with her eyes closed.

 

The woman was surprised by this dialogue with her daughter. It was something that came up unexpectedly. She lost her husband many years ago when Luna was 2 years old. It’s been 5 years since they lived without him.

– You will lose me anyway, so why lose your dream. Do you think they can dictate what you can do and what not? Who are they?

– You’re too smart, girl.

 

Luna didn’t answer. She took a deep breath and her heart rate dropped. The doctors came into the room quickly, made an injection. Luna started breathing a bit faster but heavily.

– It’s happening. Sorry. Unfortunately, we can’t do anything. She is dying.

Luna was lying on the bed in a star pose, giving a good look at her almost transparent skin through which you could see the ribs.

– Thank you, doctor.

 

The woman asked him to leave and give them some time together. He nodded, agreeing to return in ten minutes, and left the room quietly.

– Luna, stand up. Can you hear me? Stand up. We don’t have time.

She held her under the arm, another hand hugged her waist. The woman was trying to pull her to the outside of the room.

– We have just 10 minutes, Luna. That should be enough.

– Enough for what? – the girl couldn’t speak clearly. She opened her eyes and closed them again. Her legs were very weak and she hung on her mother like a bag. They were rushing through the corridors to the stairs, moving as fast as the woman could.

– To set you free like that little bee. You are free, my girl. In your mind, in your soul, in your thoughts. You can travel as far as you want. You can be whatever you dream about. And you are right, nobody can tell you what to do. I was scared. I am scared now. But I love you. Love you so much.

The woman was struggling. Her hands were tired but she kept pulling Luna. They hastened through the corridor. Stairs loomed ahead. Ten minutes. Only ten minutes left. They made it up two staircases already, one more left.

 

They were standing in front of the door. Just one move and they are outside. The door is unlocked because if you leave, you leave. You can’t come back anymore. You are just out of the flock. You are on your own.

Her husband is somewhere there. Maybe he found a better life, maybe he died. Maybe he is waiting for them.

The woman took a small step forward and placed her hand on the handle.

– Do not do this, mom. I am dying but you are not. Your life is here.

– No darling. My life is with you. I want to set you free because you want this. And I want to be by your side until the very end. And then…

– What then?

The woman paused:

– Then, I don’t know. But I will find out, right? I will join you when my time comes.

– I love you, mom.

 

The women unlocked the door, knowing once opened, there’s no return. The air was dense and stuffy. Sand made it impossible to see where they were going. Luna was weak. She was moving slowly, mostly pulled by her mom. Luna’s legs trembled with each step, her breaths short and sharp against the stuffy, sand-filled air, making each moment outside seem surreal and distant. They both were tired. But they kept moving. Luna was a little brave girl and the woman tried to be like her.

– I love you, darling.

 

The darkness ended. The wind disappeared. They were sitting somewhere in the middle of the desert. Luna was lying in the woman’s arms with her eyes closed. She didn’t breathe.

– We are free, Luna. We made it. This sunrise is amazing. I can tell. You were absolutely right.

She started crying, patting Luna on the head.

– I am here with you, my little brave girl. Love you, sweetheart.

Exactly this happened to me in the early 1990s. I was visiting California from the Netherlands for business and on a deserted road, early Sunday morning, I got a ticket and a directive from the cop that I should go to court to deal with it the next day,

As it happens I had a flight back to the Netherlands the next morning which I had no intention of delaying and I asked the local secretary to sort it out and tell me what I owed.

She made a few calls without coming to a conclusion and then forgot to follow up. I heard nothing more. Until …

Fast forward about five years and I had just moved to California to live. Applied to the DMV for a driver’s license and was told “no can do, there’s a warrant out for your arrest”!

My options were (a) pay a total of about $500 in fines for the speeding ticket PLUS a failure-to-appear in court, or (b) appear in court.

Fortunately, I chose (b). The judge seemed to be in a very good mood and he waived the failure-to-appear altogether and reduced the speeding ticket since “it was an inappropriate speed limit for the road, much too low, and they later increased it”.

Moral of the story: The US legal system can sometimes do the humane and right thing, though don’t expect they will ever forget! And, oh yes – pay the ticket or don’t come back!

On the flip side:

I then later, about 10 years ago, got a speeding ticket, while driving a rental car, during a visit back to the Netherlands. When it comes to money, the Dutch are VERY efficient. Within a couple of weeks they sent me an invoice in the mail, with a photo from the camera that had taken me at speed. In this case, I forgot to pay and when visiting the Netherlands a couple of years later I was stopped at the airport and told I had three options: (a) pay the fine + late fee, (b) spend the weekend in jail and go to court on Monday, or (c) turn right around and go back to the US, cancelling my visit.

I’ll let you guess which option I chose.

BREAKING: A Nuclear Mini Explosion Took Place in ODESSA after an ISKANDER Missile Struck a NATO Ship

On the night of October 13, the Russian armed forces launched another missile and bomb attack on military facilities located in the territory of Ukraine. This time, Russia attacked strategically important military installations in regions such as Sumy, Donetsk, Kherson, Dnipropetrovsk, and Odessa.

At the same time, it is worth noting that yesterday’s missile attack on Odessa may go down in history as a turning point in the current conflict that led to the outbreak of World War III.

The fact is that, unlike other regions of Ukraine, a really powerful explosion occurred in Odessa, the negative consequences of which have already begun to be felt not only by citizens of Ukraine but also by citizens of neighboring NATO countries…

I don’t actually have any tattoos, but I remember a conversation I had about 25 years ago with a cosmetic doctor. I happened to ask him, “Do you like tattoos?” To which he replied, “Yes, I really like them.” Surprised, I said, “Oh, I didn’t realize you had any.” He responded, “I don’t, but they’re going to be my retirement. I’ll spend all my time lasering them off.”

As we continued the discussion, he pointed out that tattoos can be problematic because they often reveal a person’s age. For example, in a country like the UK, if someone has “love” and “hate” tattooed on their knuckles along with swallows, it’s likely they’re elderly e.g 70s or 80s. If they have a Celtic band, they’re probably in their 50s now. And with the full sleeves that are so popular today, who knows what that will signify in the future?

Personally, I think the main issue with tattoos is that many people believe they’re expressing their individuality, when in reality, they’re just following a trend.

Shorpy

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Yep.

As of several days ago I’m no longer in law enforcement. I worked as a tactical medic alongside a SWAT team, and though I loved my job (most days anyway) I left due to moving and soon I will no longer be living full time in the state I used to work in.

But over my 5 years of working in law enforcement, I was told “I pay your salary” many times. Sometimes during an arrest, other times settling arguments, and there’s one time that sticks out like a sore thumb.

I was working in the office, and I got called downstairs because someone wanted to talk to a member of my time. Well, she wasn’t very happy. She told me “your performance is lacking, I want to see your office and what you and SWAT does all day.” I told her sorry, we don’t typically give public tours, and when we do I get to say who goes into our upstairs office area. When you start off by telling me my performance is lacking, yet you have no evidence to back yourself up, I’ll show you where the door is.

So I told her that I couldn’t. I told her our offices were off limits, which was a valid excuse. We have information that is limited to law enforcement only, as well as things that can’t be screwed with. It was just the team I worked for in that area. We’ve got weapons, sensitive information, very expensive gear, and a k9. It was not a good time for anyone other than members of the team to be going upstairs. That was my explanation when she asked again.

Then of course the words “I pay your salary” came out of her mouth.

Technically she does not, and if she thinks just because she pays taxes she pays my salary, than I guess so do I. I pay taxes. Lots of them. I pay my own taxes as well as taxes on the business I own. Last I checked, the government gets that money and distributes it into many ways. So as life would have it, I paid my own salary, as well as the salary of other members of the team I worked with.

Thank you for paying my salary, but just because you don’t get your way doesn’t mean I don’t get paid.

Jason Bourne Ultimate TACTICAL MOVES Compilation ⚡ 4K

Yes, my brother and his family. I had an accident with a table saw on a Sunday afternoon in November. I looked at the mangled fingers on my left hand and knew that I would lose the top joint of 2 fingers. I put up my dogs while /I waited for the ambulance. I wrapped my hand, clenched it in a fist and kept it above my heart. The Drs in the ER said I would have to have a specialist, who was not available until Thursday, to do the surgery. The gave me multiple pain shots, cleaned the wounds, and wrapped up my hand. I called a friend to drive me home. I called my brother, who lives half an hour away, to ask him if he could help me before my surgery. He is a retired corporate lawyer who had a part time job as a bag and cart boy at a grocery store to get put of the house and get a little exercise . His wife, like me, is a retired school teacher. My brother asked me what I would do if no one came over, he has 2 young adult children, including an unemployed 25 year old son. I told him I would get cold as I need firewood to heat much of my house. The Drs did not want me carrying anything or going uo and down steps. My brother said ‘What will you do if I do not come over? ‘ I said I would be cold and in increased pain. He never came over and I did not hear from him, or his son again. This is the same brother who had asked me 2 years prior for a loan of $15,000 because the IRS had frozen all of their financial accounts. I told him I did not have that kind of cash, but I would access my home equity loan, and I drove the check over to him the next day. He eventually paid me back in full, but not including the interest I paid on the loan. This happened in 2015. We have not had any contact since then. kt

Do you think American society is becoming dumber?

I start every school year with a survey of students, asking how many books they’ve read for fun. When I first started teaching high school science, most students had read at least one book. When there was down time in class, the brighter students would pull out the newest Harry Potter or Hunger Games and lose themselves in the story.

Even the kids who didn’t like books got in the act. I can’t count how many times a student was supposed to be working from a textbook, and I caught them secretly reading Thrasher Magazine.

The last time that happened was years ago. Now, the average student has never read one entire chapter book in their entire life. It’s not just that they haven’t read a book for pleasure. It’s that many have never read a single book with chapters, even one assigned by teachers, in their life.

It’s been recently noted that many of the students being funneled into elite universities are mentally incapable of reading an entire book.

According Rose Horowitz of the Atlantic…

“College kids have never read everything they’re assigned, of course, but this feels different. Dames’s students now seem bewildered by the thought of finishing multiple books a semester. His colleagues have noticed the same problem. Many students no longer arrive at college—even at highly selective, elite colleges—prepared to read books.”

She continues…

“No comprehensive data exist on this trend, but the majority of the 33 professors I spoke with relayed similar experiences. Many had discussed the change at faculty meetings and in conversations with fellow instructors. Anthony Grafton, a Princeton historian, said his students arrive on campus with a narrower vocabulary and less understanding of language than they used to have. There are always students who “read insightfully and easily and write beautifully,” he said, “but they are now more exceptions.” Jack Chen, a Chinese-literature professor at the University of Virginia, finds his students “shutting down” when confronted with ideas they don’t understand; they’re less able to persist through a challenging text than they used to be. Daniel Shore, the chair of Georgetown’s English department, told me that his students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.”

Again, Ms. Horowitz is describing many of the students who get accepted to schools like Harvard, Yale and Columbia.

So what caused this situation?

Most of the students in college have never known any moment of being disconnected. Most have had highly addictive smart phones for most of their lives.

Many of them grew up not knowing a moment where entertaining stimulation isn’t coming from some outside sources.

If their parents took them to a restaurant, rather than expecting them to behave without distraction, they were handed devices to pacify them.

And the ages at which their addiction to data-driven-stimulation began is getting lower and lower.

While smart phones and tablets were a great way to give mom and dad a break from entertaining and disciplining the child, electronic pacifiers have been depriving them of the opportunity to develop the habits and skills they would need to learn.

So yes, people are getting dumber. It’s the phones, tablets and access to social media that’s making them dumber.

My Dad felt like he should go see his In-laws. They were 4 to 5 hours away, so he worked with my mother to clear a long weekend. Obviously, she was delighted for the chance to visit her mother. When Friday came, everything worked out so he was able to get off prior to lunch, instead of having to wait 4 more hours. He did not know why, but decided to take the leave instead of getting paid to get caught up in silence. He headed home and surprised everyone that they were heading out. My mother loves schedules and wanted him to wait a few hours. He agreed, but kept bugging her every few minutes that he really felt the need to get down there NOW. She finally relented and they headed down far ahead of schedule. My father was not prone to speeding at all. Decades in the military had conditioned him to precisely follow the speed limits. But this time, he kept finding himself unconsciously speeding, the only time in the entire time I knew him. They made incredible time and were greeted by confused In-laws that had not expected them for hours and hours.

As they greeted each other, a scream from next door rang out. My dad rushed to see what was going on as his miliary instincts kicked. He ended up in the neighbor’s backyard where they had a swimming pool. Floating unresponsive was a very young kid and his frozen mother. In seconds, he dove fully dressed into the water and retrieved the kid. His years as a Boy Scout swim instructor now paid off, as did his CPR training. By the time emergency services arrived, he had already resuscitated the child who had been turning blue (parents took a picture).

My father was invited and attended each of that child’s graduations up through college.

4K HDR Mice Playtime for Cats: Irresistible Hide and Seek Fun | Catflix

Alexis Araneta

This story contains sensitive content

TW: Shades of abuse and control issues, swearingAuthor’s note: Written after an eczema flare-up. Hahaha !**Tonight, my baby Allison had me blocked again. It has been exactly the ninth time in her thirty-four years of existence she has jumped in that beat-up cobalt blue Honda Accord (safety alert!) in the middle of the night (safety alert!) and drove almost at the speed limit (GAAAAH !) to the harshly-lit emergency room of her nearest hospital.Believe you me; I tried to stop her, to protest another instance of my girl distancing herself from the shield of my protection. I bellowed to the tiny veins and capillaries around her face, commanding them to swell even more. I saw her delicate, undulating throat and gripped on it tighter, shutting off more of her respiratory tract. However, as if she were hooked on some intravenous line to a bag of determination, she marched into the bright fluorescent lights, to those ridiculous minions in scrubs coloured a disgusting mucus green, to a syringe filled with epinephrine formulated to wrestle an invisible straitjacket on me, to tranquilise me until I’m powerless.I don’t get it. I, Allison’s immune system, am just trying to look out for her, just want to ensure her safety. Apparently, though, if you were to ask her and those stupid doctors, — those twats who cannot heal her as much as I can — I should have never attacked those greasy peanuts on her dessert brownie. According to them, I’m overreacting by forcing her tissues to go on red alert against “food”, am the cause of disease as much as the one tasked to prevent it (Can you believe the audacity to say that?!). No, they don’t understand that like anyone giving life to a child, I take my job of protecting her as a matter of life and death, and that, well, Mother knows best.They don’t understand that the day Allison’s chromosomes coded me to existence inside a uterus; I was given marching orders to defend the chubby cheeked, blue-eyed life I was encased in. The day I was formed inside my baby, I took up arms, vowing to shoot any microbe, any germ that threatened to invade her organs. The day she came out onto the world, I watched her like a sniper through the viewfinder on the top half of her head and couldn’t help smiling. She looked so peaceful, so docile, and so dependent on me. It was the most perfect time knowing this pink-skinned, gurgling organism wanted me to be its bodyguard, to take care of her like the woman who gave birth to her, and well, Mother knows best.They don’t understand the sadness I felt the day of my little girl’s third birthday. As she broke into a smile when she blew those purple candles on her chocolate birthday cake, -– her choice (Ugh! I’d have preferred vanilla.)— I throbbed as if some inexperienced surgical intern were performing a coronary bypass on me without anaesthesia. As she ran across the playground with all the power in her toddler hamstrings to the large sandbox (Eww! Germs!), I wanted to yell at Allison for choosing the risk of getting ill, for not choosing me. I couldn’t help pushing her skin to break out in scarlet bumps, to try with everything I am to get her to notice me.To my surprise, once my baby girl’s birth giver saw the hives, she tsk-ed and blamed me, ME! Hey, Mama Immune System is just trying to do her job, and well, Mother knows best.They don’t understand the needle-like sting of my Allison’s betrayal two months after she turned 11. Her birth giver (I know. How could she instigate this?) had asked my baby if she wanted to see some Dr. Pell. As my baby and the woman she called “Mum” got into their car, I had high hopes, to be honest. I thought that, obviously, someone who spent more than a decade learning about the human body would firmly explain to the pair that they need to let me be, to do my job of protecting my Allison. Oh no, instead, that quack demonised me and told my baby she will try to get me under control. 

Immunotherapy! That twat in the white coat suggested therapy! Before I could even protest, Dr. Pell asked my Allison to stretch her arm out and scratched my baby with a tiny lancet to see how I attack, and then, scheduled the first session of what they called “desensitisation”. They wanted to weaken me, stop me from fully protecting that child I vowed to defend from the world; that doctor wanted my girl to forget that Mother knows best.

 

They don’t understand the desperation pumping in me whenever I’m supressed. The round of shots that quack injected into my Allison had stripped me of my ability to pounce on pollen and dust (NO!). Her puberty hormones had further rendered my efforts futile by nullifying my attacks on eggs (NO!). Through the viewfinder on her head, I saw her paint her lips a tacky crimson, ingest those barbecued prawns that disgusted me – observed her drift further and further away from what I wanted for my baby. Any tingle on her lips, any bump on her skin I pushed into her bloodstream, she combatted with bitter pills called antihistamines and a shrug of her delicate shoulders.

 

I had no choice but to become stricter, more ferocious. I wasn’t content anymore with commanding the production of red rashes; oh no, I started to grip her airway shut with all my might so that in her breathlessness, she’d come home to Mama. I spun furious circles around her to raise her blood pressure, to make her remember her heart is mine. Unfortunately, all it got me was staring at her through her head viewfinder as she employed more doctors to come between us, as she took stronger drugs, as she spat at me whenever I tried to convince her that Mother knows best.

 

Most of all, they don’t understand how much I love my Allison, that I want to protect my baby girl more than anything, that I desperately want her to comprehend that she’s mine…even if I have to resort to drastic measures, to “Anaphylaxis” (What a terrible name. Why does it sounds so…disease like?). It will always go over those quacks’ heads that when I pull her throat shut, it’s me pulling on her heartstrings; that when I quicken her pulse, it’s me attempting to unite our heartbeats.

 

Then again, Allison doesn’t need to understand, does she? After all, I’m in her, she never escape me. She can block me all she wants and get as many doctors involved. She can put me in a corticortsoid straitjacket for all I care. I will always know best.

Russian Marines Ambushed and Destroyed Eight U.S. Army RANGERS Along With The ‘STRYKER’ ICV In KURSK

The Japanese soldiers were so cruel during WWII that it beggers belief.

There is a tendency in fiction of authors trying to be impartial when depicting historic conflicts. In the 2007 film Letters from Iwo Jima we follow a sympathetic group of Japanese soldiers trying to survive in the final days of the war. They’re caught between an oppressive government, insane officers, and American soldiers more than willing to commit war crimes.

It’s a great film. And a lot of it is historically accurate. But it leaves out a lot of context in order to make its protagonists sympathetic.

It leaves out the “comfort women”, the countless women forced into sexual slavery by the Japaneae military. It leaves out the beheading contest held among officers that ran in public newspapers. It leaves out the abuse of prisoners. The crimes of Unit 731. The 50,000 Chinese killed each day in the lead up to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, most of whom were civilians.

We use the Axis powers of WWII as a visual shortcut for evil. We depict them as cartoonist, mustache twirling villains who kick puppies for fun.

And at first glance you might think that this is a bit unfair. An exaggeration made by the winners of the conflict against the lovers.

But you have to understand, they were worse. In real life they were an evil almost beyond our comprehension. An evil that has to be censored in media because the truth is so extreme that few can believe it.

But it is the truth.

Why Don’t Men “Catcall” Us Anymore?

I did exactly that. Married someone I didn’t love.

I was coming out of a bad relationship with my ex when I met him. I used him to get over my ex. (My ex was cheating on me with multiple women and had gotten someone pregnant, he also raped and physically hit me).

I didn’t love the man i married, but he was text book perfect. He had a great job. He was a family man. He cooked. He cleaned. Respected me. Treated me right. Family loved him. And above all else he was loyal.

He was in love with me. He said to give him a chance. I will never forget his words. “I want to look after you and give you all the good things in life”.

I said yes to him with my heart aching over my Ex.

Over the years I forced myself to love him. I forced myself to stop thinking of my ex. I put all my energy into seeing the positive things that my husband was doing in my life.

And now I love him. We’ve been married 10 years. Sometimes I find myself day dreaming about him when I’m at work. Or checking him out when he’s nearby. Thinking what a handsome sexy man I married. What a wonderful father he is to my children. What a great provider. What a great helper. We have a wonderful relationship. He’s literally my best friend.

And no- I no longer think about that toxic ex. I’m glad I didn’t run with my heart.

Sometimes, your heart can deceive you. Use your mind to think through your decisions and use it to guide your heart.

There was a friend of mine who lived in a village a couple of miles away from our mountain base. He was a guerrilla fighter like we were, but not in our unit. From time to time, he came to our base to help us and this is how we knew each other.

One afternoon, he called us over the radio and asked if anyone wanted to come to his village. There were some problems with the enemy, he stated.

I thought “why not?” and left with a group of soldiers. On our way to the village, we got updates about the situation there. They were bad news and two of the soldiers in our group stopped and said they didn’t want to continue.

There was nothing we could do as this was a purely voluntary mission and we had no orders from anyone to go there. We continued our way without them.

We came to a wooded hill where we could see our friend’s place; it was situated on another hill and all we had to do was to cross a small valley to get there.

When we descended into the valley, we left another soldier behind. We were only two now and I was in the lead. When I came out of the woods into the open, I could see our friend at the entry of the village. He waved at us.

I saw that there were plenty of other soldiers higher up on the village’s main street and started wondering: “Why is he calling us for help when there are plenty of his own soldiers around?”

I got an answer very quickly. I was now only 200 meters away from the first houses when a bullet zipped over my head. Then another one and then many more.

A machine gun was taking aim at us. We stopped and ran back. We were completely in the open and there was no cover in both directions. While I ran, hundreds of more bullets were coming in my direction.

It dawned on me: The other soldiers I had seen in the village were the enemy! Unable to fight them off alone, my friend had been gone into hiding and had called us for help. His waving at me had been a way to get my attention and to warn me! I had misunderstood the whole situation.

There was at least a complete infantry company of Serbs in the village and more and more of them started shooting at us.

I saw a small manure pile and hid behind it. This wasn’t the best cover, but there was absolutely nothing else out there.

While I lay flat on the ground the bullets kept flying towards me. They must have had a lot of ammunition! I heard how the bullets struck the manure pile and I just hoped that it was thick enough to protect me.

I looked at the grass in front of my eyes and I literally wished I was a mouse and could just hide in a tiny hole in the ground.

Meanwhile, the other soldier who had come with me made it to safety. He had run a little faster and had reached the woods of the hill. He was calling me, but I didn’t dare to move.

I was waiting for a break in the enemy’s fire to make a jump for cover. After what seemed like an eternity to me, but was maybe only a minute, I stood up and raced towards the woods.

Bullets were everywhere and I heard dozens of nasty ‘zip’ sounds while I crashed into underbrush. There was a very low stone wall where my buddy was hiding. We were safe, but we still had to wait for another five minutes until the enemy ceased fire.

Miraculously, we were unharmed. I lost my ‘Bugs Bunny’ baseball cap which I had gotten as a present from some kids just a few days ago, but that was all.

The next days, I wondered a lot about the fate of the friend we had seen in his village. Did he make it out alive?

I saw him a week later, when he came to our base as if nothing had happened. He thanked me for my good will on that day and told everyone: “I called you all for help, but the only person who came to my assistance was the German!”

I was thinking: “Yeah, but the German only came, because he didn’t know what was going on.” Instead, I smiled and said: “Anytime!”

At 20 years old, I had just finished up doing a year of study abroad in France, when my father came out to travel around Europe with me. Being a (very) poor student and traveling with a very frugal father, we were dressed about as “American” as they come.

It just so happened that as this was before 9/11, it was possible to store your luggage (temporarily) in lockers at the main train station in Paris (though by just looking through an image search there may still be some available nowadays, but I haven’t seen any in person for a long time). We went to go store our luggage so that we could do sightseeing during a 10-hour stopover.

The lockers were all pre-pay, and had signs all over the place to that effect (in French – this was before the country had multi-lingual signs as de rigeur). We paid our fee, and went walking around the city.

Upon return, there were two new guys on shift, and as we came up to the desk to get our bags retrieved, I heard one guy say to the other, in French, “Watch this. This will be fun.”

He proceeded to tell us, in English, that we had to pay for the return of our bags. I explained (in English), that we had already paid, and that I had the receipt to prove it. It was very clear that he was trying to scam us and was going to pocket the money.

(As a side note, my frugal father didn’t want to spend the $50 equivalency to store the luggage. He would rather save the money and take the bags – huge suitcases designed for 2 weeks travel – around Paris, and I had to fight with him to store the bags. I was concerned that this was going to reinforce his idea that we should have taken the bags with us).

I pointed to the sign, and said that it would have been impossible for us to leave the bags without pre-payment. The guy was completely shocked that I could read the sign, and said that it was “an old sign.”

I was getting angrier at this guy, and we were getting pressed for time as we were going to miss our train (which he probably guessed). I started pointing to the other signs around the room. “Are these all old, too?” I asked

His friend behind him, realized this wasn’t going so well. “Just get the bags,” he said (in French).

The guy waved him off, and said (in French), “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.”

I lost it, and shot back (in French). “You’ve got what? What do you have?”

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. He was absolutely shocked, and began to stutter. “Is this the part where you’re going to have ‘fun’,” I asked, sarcastically.

“Look, I heard you talking to your friend over there behind my back, and I know what you’re trying to do.” (In French, the equivalency of “talking behind someone’s back” is an idiomatic expression that very few Americans would know, which clued him in that I was completely fluent.) “You think that just because I’m an American, that I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Non, non…”

“I suggest that you get our bags before I contact the gendarme and tell them that you were trying to rob us.”

In the background, his friend was nearly convulsing from holding in his laughter at the other guy being busted.

We got our bags, and we were on our way.

The Great Divide of Men & Women

This post is dedicated to those “average” “Joes” that are a foundational support for society

Years ago, I moved into my girlfriend’s house, but after about 2 years, things weren’t working out, and she was making things ridiculously difficult.

So, I signed a lease at another apartment, got some buddies to help me load the moving van, and I was out.

Or so I thought.

That’s when I got a voice-mail “Invitation” to meet at a specific restaurant at noon, to “work out the last few details”.

Naive me, I thought maybe she would give me my tools back – ones I’d used to repair and renovate her home over the years, which she insisted I store in the garage – and which now remained locked away, since she’d suddenly changed the lock on the garage door).

So, I went to the restaurant, found her at a quiet table, ordered “just coffee”, and asked her what she wanted to discuss.

She said, “You are the one who moved out, so you are the one who made this meeting necessary, and you need to tell me what you want.”

Very odd, to claim that her meeting was initiated by me, and that I was the one with an agenda for it.

I should have just stood up at that point and said, “Well, I guess there’s nothing to discuss, then. Bye”,

But instead I said that I wished her well, that we should just go our separate ways, no hard feelings, and all I wanted was to get my tools back.

She then really surprised me with her response:

“You want to dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t do. You want to control me and take advantage of me, then just run away without fulfilling your responsibilities to me.”

Huh?

I didn’t owe her anything. I’d done more for her than she could ever pay back. How was this me victimizing her?

I got up, said something like, “I guess I should stop dictating to you”, paid the waitress for my coffee, and left.

A week later I got a long letter in the mail.

She had done some math regarding groceries, and how she wanted me to pay her for all the meals she had shopped for, plus time spent cooking and cleaning up. (Somehow she “forgot” to include all the restaurant meals I had paid for, or all the hours I had spent working on her house.)

Also, she wanted me to pay extra for utilities, after we had already agreed on a split. She wanted to change the formula, retroactive for 2 years, so that I somehow owed her utility money.

I had also been paying rent, and she wanted to charge me more than we had already agreed, again retroactively for 2 years.

She also had a list of various items she claimed I had damaged over our time together. A slightly ripped bedsheet, a chipped plate, a dented doorframe, rust stains on the driveway and so on.

She had gotten inflated quotes from home repair services for the ‘damage’ I had caused, an estimate for a full driveway re-paving, plus pricing for new sheets for the whole house (because every room has to match, right?), and an entire new set of dishes. Really? You can’t just order a replacement from Correl?

Plus an estimate from a Handy Man service, for repairs she needed, that I’d volunteered to help with, back when things were going better with us and

And so on, for pages.

The total was over $6,000 and she threatened to sue me!

So, it turns out that this was more than just “the last few details”, and the lunch had been a set-up.

I guess I was supposed to feel guilty for “making her” come to the lunch, then guilty for “dictating“ what she should do, and then I was supposed to sheepishly write her a settlement cheque for $6k?

In the end, I sent her a note in reply. I listed all the restaurant meals I had paid for, with estimated amounts.

I also estimated all the hours I had spent on her house, including materials and supplies. I billed her at the same rate as her Handy Man quotes.

I provided photos of her rusty, leaky beater car and the stains below.

I estimated the (generous) price of one set of sheets and one (1) replacement plate.

And I sent her information on legal requirements for proper notice and percentages for rental and utility increases (spoiler: she had missed all the deadlines).

My total was $12,000, meaning that SHE actually owed ME $6,000. And I threatened to counter-sue.

I never did hear back.

Just to be clear:

  • She had been through a nasty divorce, being left with an empty house, empty bank accounts, and two little kids in the ‘burbs. So me leaving was probably “triggering “.
  • I got some of my tools back, but not all, through a 3rd party. I tried using the police and a Justice of the Peace but every said, “cut your losses, be glad you are out”.

I’ll give one that I learned after I was married.

As a straight man, take ballroom dancing.

I’m serious.

I learned to ballroom dance with my wife 15 years ago – a few years after we were married. When we made it through our first class and first performance, I asked what was the next step.

The next step was to go to ball room dancing events.

Boring, I thought. I’ll humor my wife to keep her happy since this was her idea.

Now let me drop a tidbit that was not obvious to my naive brain at first:

Most of the men that went to this event were not straight…and did I mention that there were more females there than male. And they were single.

Now, let’s do some math. OK, I’ll skip the math and go on to say, that was the first time I ever felt jealousy from my wife, who started to get mad with all the women asking me to dance.

And she sat at the table across from me every. time. it. happened. And it happened every time my wife sat to take a break.

I knew enough to lead and to not make a fool of myself and women ate that up. The other men there (who were gay) also danced, but I guess it wasn’t the same. I don’t know why they honed in on the married guy – but I hadn’t ever experienced that level of interest.

It was truly an eye-opening event that I wished I’d known before I was married.


Edit 1 – OK this answer took off. Kudos to Sean Kernan for sharing my answer.

I have two daughters that I take to daddy-daughter dances that I’ve taught the basics to.

To anyone that has never been, daddy-daughter dances can be quite awkward, until the first dad says to himself “screw it, I’m going to make a fool of myself because I’m here to show my daughter how to dance.”

Knowing how to lead helps control your 9 year old daughter and focus her to learn the steps.

The Eternal Light of the Ten Song Lantern

Submitted into Contest #232 in response to: Write a story set in a world with a dying sun, or where light is a scarce resource. view prompt

John Werner

Darkness lay like a blanket over the peaks and valleys of the Spires of Hildefund. The pale moonlight bounced off the ribbon of the snow-crusted pass, Gelvira’s crunching footprints the only blemish upon the pristine meandering track. It was rare that the Sisterhood of the Ten Song Lantern sent its priestesses above ground. Rarer still was it that they were sent without the accompaniment of a Swordsinger, those brave and noble warriors who were sworn to protect them.Gelvira’s boots were warm, crafted in the way of the People of the Hovihar, with the fur of the mountain goat towards the inside. They were still fairly new, gifted to her only upon her appointment to this particular task. In truth, her entire suit evoked an image of those great Hovihar warriors of old, standing strong against the blizzard. Her deep cowled cloak and thick woolen clothes protected her from both the howling winds and the biting cold.“It has been almost two centuries since the Hovihar walked these peaks and passes,” She mused, marveling at the fact that all this beauty could go unobserved for so long.The Hovihar had once been masters of these mountains just as her own people were masters of the caverns beneath. In days of old, their alliance worked to the benefit of both races but since their demise, the Adosinda had retreated deeper into the mountain. Thus was the reason for her appointment to this most venerated station.The summer solstice was a time for great celebration, the giving of thanks, and gathering the light for the Ten Song Lantern. The only light they would have for the coming year. Ten songs would be sung before the sun rose again. She placed her gloved hand gently upon the satchel at her hip. She had gained a muffled response not unlike that of the twinkling bells within the deep caverns of the Adosinda.“But I am far from the warmth of our caverns,” She reminded herself.Instinctively she slipped her pointer, middle, and ring fingers through the slit at their bases in the glove, exposing them to the cold. Stepping through the arc of her recurve bow she strung it and knocked an arrow from the quiver upon her back in one fluid motion, as if the maneuver had been executed as simply as walking.The bow itself was short, for she herself only stood but seven spans off above ground. Her wide nostrils flared and large dark eyes glinted only for a moment as she turned to face the moon. The woody scent of pine filled her head and she breathed in the aroma, storing it up knowing that she may never be gifted a trip to the Hovihar lands again. She lifted her chin and allowed her lower jaw to open just a fraction before breathing the inaudible “chirp” ricocheting across the landscape. Its returning echoes helped her sense what her eyes could not see.The darkness was retreating, and nature was slowly rising to meet it. She received the impressions of many small things, things she would have hunted if she had the leisure, but food was not her mission. They scurried out of their dens and burrows and stood upon the frozen scrub lining the plateaus over which she gazed. She raised her eyes to the sky, tracing an arc from the burgeoning glow in the east to the steadfast darkness in the west.“No sign of them,” She whispered and received a light twittering reply from the satchel. “So we will wait.”With her bow in her lap, she perched, resting on her heels upon an upward jutting stone. The warm glow had overtaken the eastern horizon and she kept her large eyes peeled for any sign of her prey. Once the sun was within sight she would have to work fast. It would only be above the horizon for moments before the world was once again sunk in darkness.The Spellsingers had worked all year, breeding and enchanting the Amelina. The tiny serpents were born in the deep dark places within the mountains. They were clever and quick and produced a pheromone that her prey found completely irresistible. They would not last long in this cold. If they were to die in flight, before they served their purpose as bait, she would feed herself to the hungry cold of the mountain rather than face the shame of returning a failure.She realized she had been holding her breath. The pressure had been building in her chest for uncounted moments for her eyes watched, growing larger and larger as the curved disk of the sun peaked over the horizon and bathed the entire range in the amber light of dawn. 

As if in answer, there was a thunderous fluttering of wings, and up into the deep blue sky soared those great northern Beltreo hawks. Their wingspans were enormous and their great calls echoed into the sky like the scraping of swords against shields. Bright purples, blues, and greens trimmed the feathers of their great wings and tail feathers as they circled, climbing ever higher into the vaults of the heavens.

 

When it appeared that they had reached the limit of their height their tailfeathers began to glow, collecting the warmth and light of the summer sun. It was that light that would sustain the Ten Song Lantern for another year. They began to glow with such intensity that it appeared multicolored stars were swirling in the sky.

 

She couldn’t have watched them for more than a handful of minutes before she noticed the amber light fade. She grabbed the satchel from her hip and kissed it bestowing a silent prayer upon the Spirits to let her hunt be successful. She looked to the west and saw that the bright, blazing rim that was all her people had even known of the sun was now descending beneath the horizon line. The amber light turned to a golden brown before it gradually sunk back to darkness.

 

“Now!” She whispered excitedly, opening the satchel and holding it up into the sky.

 

The Amelina came whizzing and whirring from their warm hiding place. Into the heavens they streaked as the glowing orbs of light, all that was left to be seen of the Beltreo as darkness once again consumed the range, began to descend from their circling dance to the ground below. The serpents’ crystalline scales shimmered like the phantom veil that appeared across the winter sky from time to time. Their keening cries beckoned to the great glowing birds whose lazy descent seemed to stop for a heartbeat, fixing them in the air before they streaked toward the shimmering haze left in the wake of the Amelinas’ flight.

 

Gelvira readied her bow, her hands loosely holding the string, her arrow knocked and readied. The Amelina were doing their job well but she quietly urged them on for the cold would rob them of their speed in short order. As if answering her thought, the gemstone serpent streaked towards her with a Beltreo in tow.

 

Gelvira drew the string to the corner of her mouth and breathed. The serpent was racing towards her, knowing its survival depended on luring its prey back to its keeper. In a last burst of speed, it darted past Gelvira and the hawk followed, leaving her with a perfect shot.

 

Everyone knew that no arrow could pierce the feathered breast of a Beltreo hawk, those armor-like quills protecting like plate mail against any frontal assault. But, from behind, Gelvira’s arrow parted the backward-facing feathers and struck home. The great bird cried as it fell to the frozen ground.

 

“That’s one,” She said excitedly to herself. “Two more will complete the task. If I can take all five the Ten Song Lantern will shine brighter than it has in ages.”

 

The Amelina quickly retreated into the satchel where it could gather the warmth to be found there. Its shimmering scales conjured the image of a multihued campfire burning deep within. Its brood mates had done their jobs equally well and Gelvira’s arrows felled two more of the great birds with ease.

 

As the fourth hawk streaked towards her, its great blue feathers blazing like the fires in the smith’s forges, she heard a cry of despair as the Amelina was overcome. The Beltreo shrieked in agony, its bill breaking across the hardened scales of the gemstone serpent but that did not keep it from swallowing the creature whole. Nursing its wounds, it dove behind the next peak and vanished.

 

“One left,” She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and readied herself.

 

The lone remaining Amelina was whizzing through the pine trees and in and out of deep canyons with the hawk in tow. Gelvira was astounded that the creature possessed such stamina but it, just like the others, lured the hawk past her and her arrow struck true. The great bird faltered but managed to glide on unsteady wings into the forest beyond the next peak where it disappeared.

 

With four of the five gemstone serpents now returned to the satchel, Gelvira covered it and set it back upon her hip. She easily found her prey, for their feathers still glowed as brightly as they had in life. Gently she placed her hand upon each one, thanking them for their sacrifice and anointing each with the holy oils that would see their souls claimed by the Collector of Spirits. Then she gently plucked each glowing feather and carefully placed them in her quiver.

 

“Looks like we will have to track the last one,” She said to her satchel knowing that she had already recovered all that was required but relishing the idea of returning home with an even greater bounty.

 

While there were no tracks to follow there were not many places the Beltreo could have gone. She traversed the peak around which she had seen it disappear and found its warm purple glow emanating from within the upper branches of an ancient pine tree.

 

Being Adosinda, the climb was fairly easy but halfway up the great trunk she began to hear the despairing cries of hatchlings. When her large dark eyes crested the rim of the nest, the mother hawk lay dead, its wing spread protectively over the nest’s skyward facing opening. Gelvira gently moved the wing aside to reveal five small chicks. Barely fledglings, their spiny feathers were just beginning to grow.

 

“Hello, little ones.” She whispered and their mouths shot open expecting to be fed. Their chirping made her laugh the type of laugh normally reserved for babies, warm and joyful.

 

She prepared their mother for the Collector of Spirits, gathered them to her closely, hiding each within the folds of her thick warm cloak, and descended the tree.

 

“And brought them back to us?” The young girl asked.

 

“Exactly so,” The Mother of the Ten Song Lantern declared. “And that is how,”

 

“We filled the rookery?” The young girl interrupted.

 

“It took quite some time for us to fill the rookery.” She answered. “But those five eyas were the source from which all others sprang.”

 

“And now we no longer hunt the Beltreo?”

 

“And now we no longer hunt the Beltreo.”

 

“And now we always have light! Praise Gelvira.” The little girl said with practiced respect.

 

“Indeed, little priestess. Praise Gelvira, Eternal Light of the Ten Song Lantern.” Intoned The Blessed Mother.

China’s Tech, Economy This Week

More hot buttons than usual.

“Epstein Client List” – Elon Musk SHOCKS Tucker on Why Billionaires Are Backing Kamala

Decoupling From China? The Consequences of a Stupid Idea

Ricardo Martins, October 10

There are ongoing discussions about the need for the West, especially the United States (US) and the European Union (EU) to de-risk and/or decouple from China. These discussions pervade all spheres, including journalisticsthink tanksacademia and politics.

Holding China more than 30% of the world’s industrial output and a major destination of Western production or Western firms producing in China, how is this proposition plausible and credible in such intertwined economies without disrupting global supply chains and without bringing high inflation to Western nations?

In this article, I analyse why decoupling is not a good idea, its dire consequences, and the consequences for the West of being deprived of Chinese high-tech advancements. I emphasise that decoupling is a US agenda for the continuation of its dominance over the globe, and not a European one.

Why is Decoupling a Stupid Idea?

The Earth is big enough for China and the US to develop respectively and prosper together

Chinese Ambassador to the US, Xie Feng

According to the World Bank, China holds 31.6% of the total global manufacturing output. The US follows with 15.9%, and Japan is in third place with 6.5%. The leading EU country is Germany, with 4.8%, in fourth position, and the next European is Italy in 8th place, after Russia, with 1.8%. France comes in 10th place, after Mexico, with 1.6%. This data was published in 2024 and refers to the 2023 manufacturing output. Furthermore, according to Reuters, in September 2024, the German manufacturing sector contracted at the fastest pace ever in a year due to “orders drying up at an alarming rate”, and “it is hard to picture any kind of recovery happening soon.”

With globalization and the liberalization of trade of goods and services, the world has become interdependent. In the case of the US, its economy is increasingly dependent on China for imports (particularly manufacturing supplies and advanced materials), Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) flows, and even the contributions made by Chinese students in living fees and tuition expenses.

An American study has shown that decoupling with China risks all of these value streams, and would constitute losses of over $700 billion in sales and $50 billion in profits for American companies that export to the Chinese market. A similar situation will happen in Europe too.

Consequences of Decoupling

Decoupling from China, given its massive 31.6% share of global manufacturing output, would be extremely disastrous.  Here are a few reasons that come to my mind:

Global Supply Chains: China’s integration into global supply chains means it plays a critical role in the production of everything from high-tech electronics to textiles. Western economies rely heavily on components or finished products made in China. For certain products and raw materials, the dependency rate is over 90%, as is the case for certain pharmaceuticals, chemicals, photovoltaic cells, rare earth and others. China is the dominant producer of several rare earths which are crucial for the manufacturing of a wide range of high-tech products, including electronics, wind turbines, and electric vehicle batteries.

Decoupling would require either relocating manufacturing to other countries or reshoring industries back to Europe or the US would imply disrupting industries for years and would lead to major supply chain disruptions, causing shortages, higher production costs, and high inflation.

Relocation Challenges: Countries like India or Vietnam are often presented as alternatives, but none have the capacity or infrastructure that China has developed over decades. Manufacturing in these regions might help diversify risks but cannot replace China’s dominance in the near term. Additionally, many of these nations already have trade ties with China, complicating decoupling strategies.

Cost Implications: China offers lower labour costs, efficient infrastructure, and a vast workforce. Moving manufacturing to other countries with comparable capacity is difficult. The next biggest players—like India, South Korea, and Germany—have much smaller outputs (between 2.7% and 6.5%). They also may lack the same level of infrastructure or workforce to handle the massive volume of production that China does.

Market Access: With a population of 1.4 billion, over 500 million of whom are considered middle class, China boasts the largest internal consumer market in the world and is the leading market for luxury products. This market contributes significantly to the revenue of Western companies. Many Western firms, including major technology and luxury brands, depend on sales within China to stay profitable. Should decoupling result in economic or political tensions, access to this market could be jeopardised, potentially harming the revenues of these Western companies.

Retaliation: China will retaliate against the US and EU’s decoupling measures by imposing tariffs, restrictions, or boycotts on Western products, further reducing export opportunities for Western firms. Key industries, like automobiles, luxury goods, and agriculture, can face severe downturns.

Global Recession Risks: Given the size of China’s economy and its deep integration into the global economy, a sharp decoupling could lead to a slowdown in global trade and investment. If China’s growth slows due to decoupling, it will propagate across the global economy, possibly leading to a global recession, as China is a key driver of global demand.

Many emerging markets depend on exporting raw materials to China. A slowdown in Chinese manufacturing could weaken demand for these exports, slowing growth in those countries and leading to economic instability in regions that rely on Chinese-led infrastructure and trade.

Geopolitical Consequences: Decoupling certainly will lead to economic fragmentation, where China becomes more self-reliant and allies more closely with emerging markets and other nations willing to maintain ties. China is the number one trade partner with 128 countries, out of 190, including the EU. This will shift further the balance of power, creating separate economic blocs, such as the West and the rest, which could disrupt trade and economic cooperation globally.

Western is Losing the Technology Race to China

Trump has played the technology restrictions card to contain China. A few days ago, a Chinese told me that Trump is playfully known in China as “The maker”, the one who has made China technologically resilient and surpass the US. Presently, the country leads in 37 out of 44 technologies examined in the Critical Technology Trackers survey by an Australian think tank.

According to the same study, Western democracies are increasingly falling behind in the global technological race, including scientific innovation and attracting global talent—key elements essential for developing and mastering the world’s foremost technologies.

The Australian findings indicate that China has laid the groundwork to become the preeminent science and technology superpower by securing an impressive lead in high-impact research across most critical and emerging technology fields.

China’s leadership position is the result of intentional strategy and long-term policy planning, consistently emphasised by Xi Jinping and his predecessors.

My Conclusions on this Discussion

1. If decoupling is to be pursued, the US and Europe are prone to be behind in technology but also will not benefit from a fast-growing economy and the biggest consuming market in the world. It is an act of economic suicide, ideologically rooted in the imperialistic ambitions of the United States to maintain its global dominance.

2. As the US and EU distance themselves from China, they may lose economic leverage and influence in Asia, Africa and Latin America, where China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) is extending its influence. While Western nations discuss strategies and possibilities on how to de-risk and/or how to decouple from China, the country is deepening its ties with emerging economies, thus reducing the geopolitical influence of the US and Europe in key regions of the world.

3. While efforts to de-risk and decouple from China may be seen as necessary for geopolitical and geoeconomic reasons, they come with considerable risks and challenges. The interconnectedness of the global economy means that any significant shift in trade relationships can have wide-reaching effects, not only for the US and EU but also for China and the rest of the world.

4. Balancing these efforts while maintaining economic stability will be a complex challenge for policymakers in the coming years. A more nuanced approach to managing the US and EU-China relationship, prioritising collaboration over confrontation, is a win-win solution.

5. The EU needs to develop its autonomous strategy for navigating the problematic US-China relationship and not cede to US pressure to be its followers, but actively seek its own path to balance its economic interests with its political and security concerns.

6. Finally, the statement of the Chinese Ambassador to the US, Xie Feng, should be the guiding premise: “The Earth is big enough for China and the US to develop respectively and prosper together.” For this, the US needs to learn to share power.

Ricardo Martins ‒PhD in Sociology with specialisation in EU policies and international relations. 

Guest researcher at Utrecht University, the Netherlands, especially for the online magazine “New Eastern Outlook”

Contrariwise, US sanctions alerted China to the danger of depending on US for technology, and on the West in general. This was the genesis of Xi Jinping’s Dual Circulation strategy, to strive for technology self-reliance, and to stimulate domestic demand to reduce the dependency on US and western markets.

Take the case of semiconductors.

A few years ago, China’s annual imports of chips were worth over $400 billion . US threatened to cut its supply. China went on an investment spree to develop its own industry. Certainly there were mistakes and billions of yuan were wasted. But look at the outcome.

Annual imports fell steadily. SEMI expects China will account for 35% of global capacity by 2025. This will give it market leadership of supply, as well as, demand, which is estimated to exceed 60%. When the plants now on plan and under construction come into fruition a few years hence, China could be net exporter of chips.

China’s chips industry development is not just capacity, supply, and demand. The clincher is that the industry is comprehensive and integrated, from materials, equipment, through the supply chain. Hundreds of firms are in the mix.

Chinese companies therefore have scales and the synergies from the comprehensive and integrated development. Foreign companies are worried they would not be able to compete with them. They must find means to work with them.

This relates to traditional chips, which are 80% of the market. China is also in the thick of development in high-end chips – the subject of US sanctions. Consider the case of Huawei.

US put it on the entity list, imposed other restrictions, and commandeered the Collective West to deny it access to these chips. They also banned its 5G communications in their markets. The purpose was to bankrupt it.

Now a mere 4 years later, Huawei has broken through to 7nm and 5nm chips, establishes a strong supply-chain network, and its proprietary operating system, called HarmonyOS. Its smartphone business has recovered. The recent launches of Mate 60, Pura 70, the tri-fold Mate XT are produced at near 100% localisation. Its 5G business remains the market leader.

China is alerted to the unreliability of US and western partners. The development in the chips industry will make it independent of western technologies. This lesson is well-learnt and adopted in other industries. You can see this in its green tech industries, like EVs and solar panels. Its leaderships are across the supply chain.

The tide has turned. China is in the stronger position. Just one simple fact to conclude. US for all the tariffs it imposes, it still depends on China for 70% of its lithium-ion battery. Chinese leadership and supply-chain are hard to beat.

PART 3 – Police Officer Exposes THE TRUTH On Domestic “Situations” & How Men Can Protect Themselves

Alice in Wonder

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

Sean Mallery

“Wake up Alice, we have reached the null point”Alice sat up straight, wiping a bit of drool from her mouth. “What?”“The Captain’s input is needed, Alice. The coordinates are already set.”“Hey Wonder, uhh I wasn’t sleeping.”“Sleeping? I didn’t say you were!” Wonder joked. “I don’t even know what sleeping is. How would I? I never sleep.”“Okay, smartbutt computer. Just give me the calculations of the jump”“It’s on your HUD right now. No need to check. I ran the numbers myself,” Wonder said.Alice leaned forward and tapped the HUD. The map expanded to show multiple solar systems. “Did you calculate the balance of the cargo?”“I’ll admit, I rounded up to the third decimal place. Well within margin,” Wonder explained.Alice brought out her stylus and moved some numbers around. “What is the cargo this time?”“That’s classified under the RED initiative.”“Okay, can you at least tell me if it’s solid, fluid or gas? These things matter when jumping through the ather.” Alice explained.“Sorry, I cannot provide any details, as they are classified.”“Fine, the math looks good. Prepare for ather jump,” Alice conceded.“All systems green, standing by for the captain’s input.”Alice leaned forward and stared at the big red jump button. She pressed her palm down and the ship made a Ker-chunk sound as the jump engines fired up. “And the under paid monkey presses the button” she said.“Hole to the ather is open. Shields are steady,” Wonder reported. The ship pointed toward the glowing hole in space and lurched forward. The 1-DR was not a pretty ship to look at, but it was a useful one. Designed with functionality over aesthetics. All long, with dark lines broken up by exterior propulsion engines. They buzzed, spilling plasma out into space. Alice buckled into her captain’s seat. The transfer to ather space was never a smooth ride. This isn’t some luxury line ship meant to make people comfortable. It moved freight and did it cheaply.“Hitting ather space in 3…2…1” Wonder counted down. The entire ship lurched and moaned as it crossed over. Alice brought up the ship status on her HUD. Before she even had time to look at it, the lights went red and an alarm siren blasted, making Alice cringe reflexively. She silenced the alarm with the push of a button.“Wonder status,” Alice demanded.“We have lost coupling on the aft cargo hold.”“Can you give me visual?”“On the HUD now” The screen glowed with a swirl of purples and red of ather space. Alice moved the camera to see the cargo container. It hung on by a single coupling and flailed wildly.“Give me manual control” The chair moved back and dual joysticks raised up. She took hold and moved the ship. She turned and rotated until the cargo no longer bounced around. Physics in space are weird, physics in the ather are impossible. The ship was now turned sideways, but still moving in the same direction. As long as she could keep the ship in the ather’s slipstream, it would be fine.“Starboard engine took damage.” Wonder informed Alice. “On this trajectory we will slide out of the slip in thirty seconds.”Alice sighed. Drop the cargo or drop out into ather space. She thought about it and quickly decided. Turned the engines off and allow the ship to drift. With the damage done to the engine, there was no telling if she could correct the path either way. Losing the cargo was not an option while working with RED either. Lost cargo means a fine and who knows how big the fine is with the classification placed on it. The ship rumbled as it left the slipstream moving into a thicker ather.“Great, repair options for the engine?” Alice asked.

“Working on it.”

Alice’s HUD displayed a warning. Shields at 75% It read.

“Work faster” She screamed. “The ather is pressing in on the ship.”

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get your undies in a bunch,” Wonder said with a laugh.

“What? Wonder I need a solution. Can I space walk to repair it?”

“Space walking in the ather will get you deader than your sense of humor!”

“What has gotten into you?”

“I apologize Alice, it seems the effects of ather are causing me to malfunction.”

“Stupid AI, you can’t break now too.”

“Have you tried turning me off and back on again?”

Alice got up from the captain’s chair. She grabbed a tool case from the closet and headed into the bay. She checked a status screen as she walked by. Shields 60% it read.

“Wonder can I get to any of the parts from the interior of the ship.”

“Panel thirteen – seven. Look for the big red glowy light. That will be the thing. They always have glowy lights to let you know if they are bad.”

Alice turned down a hallway and caught sight of something white and quick moving just around the next corner.

“Wonder, is there anyone else on the ship?” She asked.

“Its just me and you forever baby!”

Alice let out a long sigh. “Is any of our cargo biological? Animals maybe?”

“Sorry that’s classified,” Wonder answered.

“Oh, now you can be serious?”

“Sorry, even I can’t read it. I’m looking at the file on our cargo right now. It just says classified.”

“There is something else on the ship.” Alice explained.

“Nah bro, you are going crazy.”

“What?” Alice said incredulously

“Mild effects of aether poisoning. Step one insanity, step two coming to terms with insanity, step three, the fun part.”

Alice grunted. She knew she needed to move faster before she was useless. She found the panel and removed it. The array of wires and pipes hid circuit boards. She found the one with the red light. She unplugged it and plugged it back in. The light turned off and back red again. Alice frowned. She unplugged the module. Probably didn’t need it, anyway. Alice turned around and jumped. There in the middle of the hall sat a small white rabbit. They stared at each other for a moment. The rabbit took off down the hall and around the corner.

“No, you don’t,” Alice said and chased the rabbit around the corner. She skid to a halt at the table before her. Alice found herself in a large, ornate room. She gawked at the white walls and wooden furnishing. Where was she? This isn’t a room on the ship. Worst of all, there were people sitting at the table, pouring cups of tea.

“Hello” she intoned.

“Oh, hello Alice,” the man at the head of the table said. He wore a purple suit with a tall hat. “Tea?” He asked, gesturing with a steaming teakettle.

“Uh, no thank you.” She said, looking shocked.

“Please sit. You know my friend, the white rabbit.” He gestured to a rabbit sitting on the table. It had its own cup of tea and cookie. It looked up as if acknowledging her.

“H-Hello.”

“And this here is our lead ship mechanic. Scoots.” The man in the suit said.

A short, pudgy man in a black suit and bowler cap looked over at her. “Ma’am.” He said, tipping his hat.

“And I of course, am the ever present Wonder.”

“Wonder? You’re the ship AI?”

“In the flesh!”

“I don’t understand. We don’t have a ship mechanic, and you are an AI. Don’t even get me started on the rabbit!”

“It is very easy to explain, sweetie. You see, you are quite mad.”

“Mad?” she asked.

“Insane, the ather has broken through the shield and you are undergoing the effects. Have a seat, enjoy yourself.“

“I don’t know.” She said, sitting down, “If I am insane, then how can I sit in a chair that isn’t real, smell the tea that isn’t there? Even the light of this room, I can feel it.”

“Well, the ather does weird things to all of us,” Wonder Explained

“For sure,” Scoots chimed in.

The rabbit just looked at her. Alice knew what it was saying.

She held her cup as Wonder poured some tea. “So what do I do now?”

“Well, you have two choices, really. You can get the ship back into the slipstream and finish your delivery. Do the next delivery and then do the next. Until you die. Or Ooooooor. You can stay in the ather and explore what is in this new space. You, me, scoots, the rabbit can come too.”

Alice sipped her tea. “You make a good point, but what if this is just the insanity talking? What if there is nothing out there to explore?”

Wonder leaned back in his chair. “Well honey. I will admit, I am biased. I have always wanted to see you like this. With my own eyes, I mean. Not through a camera, not through you pushing buttons.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to be with you, exploring. Ya know, like this.” Wonder gestured to the table.

“I say we stay,” Scoots said.

“And Mr Rabbit, what do you have to say?” Alice asked. The rabbit reached up to it’s cup and took a sip. It looked over, wiggling its nose. “I’m sold.” She said. Alice stood up and grabbed her cup. Let’s go to the helm and see what’s out there.

“You’re the captain,” Wonder said grabbing his cup a handful of cookies. They all together walked to the helm. Alice sat down in the pilot seat and grabbed the joysticks.

“We need repairs, lets see if we can find a place to land.” Alice said. Wonder took up a position in a newly formed station in the helm. “I see a planet on the scanners.”

“I can see an asteroid belt around that planet.” Scoots chimed in from the maintenance station that was suddenly there.

“How can there be a planet in the ather?” Alice asked.

“Lets find out.” Wonder answered.

I once had a strange passenger that asked me to go and check the ‘’toilet’’ for her, before she went in.

I asked her why she wanted me to check the lavatory FOR HER. She told me to go and check in case the toilet was dirty before she went in. I told her that she could go and check herself. If she discovered that the lavatory was dirty then I could clean it for her. But she insisted that I had to go and check the toilet for her. I kept telling her that it was all right and that she could do it herself.

My God this lady was crazy.

She had this attitude and tone to her voice. Not soft-spoken at all. I tried to talk to her softly and kindly so that I didn’t have to go to the lavatory and do a check for her. That she could do it herself. But she talked to me as if I was her butler of some kind.

Anyhow at the end, I told the lady ‘’OK no problem, I will go and check the lavatory for you’’. I had the most fake smile ever as I said that.

Oh my God, I was so annoyed.

This woman was in her 40s. She looked young and healthy. She was not disabled. She could manage to go to the lavatory herself and check.

I could have done something more important than going to the lavatory and check. The world would not come to an end if she walked to the bloody lavatory herself.

But I went to the lavatory, opened the door and before I went in I looked at the woman who was giving me bloody death stares of God knows what. I did check around and put a toilet seat cover on the toilet. The lavatory was clean. I came out from the lavatory and l went to the lady and told her ‘’The lavatory is clean and you can go if you want’’.

Pathetic!

The woman then asked me ‘’Are you really sure that the toilet is clean?’’

Oh my God, what did she think? What was she afraid of? What the hell was going on?

With an annoyed voice, I said, ‘’Yes the lavatory is clean and you saw me go and check’’.

The woman then went to the lavatory without a ‘’thanks for checking’’ or even a smile. She did not even look at me when she went. I really felt disrespected there.

What a weird thing to ask someone.

Then I watched her go to the lavatory and I kept thinking what if she would come back to me and tell me to clean something for her? I would of course have done whatever she would have asked me. But she was very strange.

Yes, one of our duties as a cabin crew is to make sure that the lavatory is clean. But we don’t really deep clean the lavatory. Before passengers board the plane the cleaning team comes in and cleans the entire plane. The only thing we do is to put a seat cover on the toilet and sometimes we don’t even have to do that. Spray the lavatory and change or add soap/hand cream. Flush if needed. Fix the WC roll if needed. We do safety checks in the lavatory too. For example, we check so no one has messed with the smoke detector in the lavatory. The things we do in the lavatory are minor. For example, if major issues happen in the lavatory then we close the entire lavatory. The cleaning team that comes in before the passengers board the plane does the deep cleaning.

But the way this woman was speaking to me, her tone and attitude made me feel disrespected. How hard is it to stand up and go to the lavatory and check yourself? If it is dirty THEN you go and grab a crew and ask them nicely to clean it, if needed.

This woman acted as if she was the queen of whatever planet and I was her personal butler.

When my Mom first when into the nursing home due to a broken pelvis, we were shocked at the people wandering around in wheelchairs hollering different weird things as well as all the noise. Bells, alarms, ect. Then the sad thing is as my mothers dementia progressed over several years, she was the one sitting in the hall way in a wheelchair yelling “help” over and over. Then you ask her what is wrong, she would just say nothing. Saddest thing ever. She passed this fourth of July, quietly in her sleep after 9 years living there. The last four I would go every week and she had no idea who I was. It was actually a relief.

A Bridge Too Far – 1977 – 80 Years Market Garden – Fan Cut Edition

Outstanding video FREE, and full edition.

A Bridge Too Far, is a 1977 war movie portraying Operation Market Garden from 1944, where it’s objective was to create a 64 mile (103 km) salient into German territory with a bridgehead over the Nederrijn (Lower Rhine River), creating an Allied invasion route into northern Germany.

The operation succeeded in capturing the Dutch cities of Eindhoven and Nijmegen along with many towns, and a few V-2 rocket launching sites. It failed in its most important objective; securing the bridge over the Rhine at Arnhem.

Richard Attenborough, took on the heavy task to portray this operation as best as he possibly could in 1977, this movie has some inaccuracies that irked historians for many years. This fan cut, released on 80 years after Operation Market Garden, is my attempt at fixing some of those inaccuracies.

https://youtu.be/KxghivpUOR0

At least she wasn’t alone

 Her customers were always in nursing homes.

Not “someone” but Walmart itself..

I bought an iPod in Walmart once and it died on me after about a month, so I took it back. Unfortunately though they won’t let you return anything if it’s been over a week, so… no.

Well I’m pissed off now, so I went home and called Apple. I explained the situation, the customer service lady apologized and asked me to read her the serial number on it. I did, and she asked me “Can you tell me again where and when you bought it?” I said a Walmart in South Carolina on so & so date..

“Hmmmm… would you mind reading that serial number back to me just to make sure I have it right?” I read it back to her..

She said “No, that was it.. This iPod was originally sold in St. Louis Missouri in October 2009.” This was in the summer of 2013.

So what had happened apparently, was somebody in St Louis had bought it, it died on them, they took it back, then Walmart boxed it up and put it back on the shelf in South Carolina – with a brand new price tag.

Like I said, that was in the summer of 2013 and I haven’t been back to Walmart since.

Mad respect for Apple though. They sent me a brand new one and took the bad one back – even though it wasn’t their mess to clean up.

Social Security.

Before, it was 55.

Before Social Security, you were expected to becable to save up enough to retire, without government assistance, with 20 years of productive work.

People used to avoid debt.

10 year home mortgage was the standard. And most paid them off early.

When Credit Cards first came out, you paid interest from date of purchase. You were expected to pay off the full balance every month. Repeatedly not paying full balance got your card revoked, in addition to the fees for not having paid the full balance.

You were expected to save for retirement on your own. The company might gift you something like a pocket watch for having worked there for 20 consecutive years. Most people who stayed at one company had the watch before they were 50. And thoe had a retirement party.

The further we have gotten from this, the more people we have who are financially unprepared to retire… EVER.

Women Are FURIOUS Because Men Are Putting Them In The FRIEND-ZONE

Nice

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Spicy Orange Beef

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ddb57d114b6f273674400621a5b603be

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup orange juice concentrate
  • 3 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 3 tablespoons water
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • 1 tablespoon finely grated orange peel
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 5 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 4 cups broccoli florets
  • 12 scallions, with tops, cut into 1 inch pieces
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 1 (1 pound) boneless sirloin steak, cut into thin strips
  • 3 medium oranges, sectioned
  • Hot cooked rice

Instructions

  1. In a small bowl combine the first six ingredients; set aside.
  2. In a large skillet or wok, heat 3 tablespoons oil over medium heat; sauté garlic for 30 seconds.
  3. Add broccoli, onions, ginger and pepper flakes; stir fry for 2 minutes or until broccoli is crisp-tender.
  4. Remove vegetables and keep warm.
  5. Heat remaining oil in skillet; add beef. stir fry until no longer pink.
  6. Stir orange juice mixture; add to skillet.
  7. Cook and stir for 2 minutes or until sauce is thickened.
  8. Return vegetables to pan. Add oranges and heat through.
  9. Serve over rice.

China is making great progress in the field of nuclear fusion with the EAST project, an “artificial sun” capable of reaching temperatures above 100 million degrees Celsius

This advancement promises to revolutionize global energy, offering a clean, safe and potentially unlimited source.

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main qimg 0a3157b2d0f92973e02859a70ef50bdb

If it can sustain these conditions steadily, it could dramatically reduce the use of fossil fuels and make a significant contribution to the fight against climate change, positioning China as a leader in the race towards sustainable energy.

when I was in law school, my senior year I worked for a law firm as a clerk. One day I came back to the office and was shocked to see that the sign on the door had tape over the name of one of the attorneys. When I went inside, there were trash cans full of letterhead. I heard the receptionist answered the phone and say “I’m sorry we do not have an attorney at this firm by that name. “

it turns out that one of the attorneys was having an affair with one of the secretaries. When the other firm members found out, they just canceled them as if he never existed. As for the secretary, the firm felt that he had used his position of authority over her, and she continue to work the entire time that I was at the firm.

After graduation, I went to work for one of the very big international law firms. I was the only woman attorney and I was single and I was pretty good looking. Not one attorney ever showed any interest in me except one night when we all stopped for drinks after a big case one of the attorneys had a couple too many and when he was laughing, he slapped my knee with his hand, and I slapped him back, but I passed that off as too much alcohol , it was a long time ago. Unless they were the sneakiest group of men that ever existed, I never got any and or indication that any of the attorneys were having any sort of relationships with any of the female employees.

Shorpy

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I was a teenager working in fast food in the 80’s. One night, as I was cleaning the dining room, I noticed a man standing at the trash receptacle beating his hands to the beat of the music we were playing. I walked around him, and I remember trying to see if he had a gun.

someone in the back kitchen area had locked the door. The man asked to see the manager, and as I went to the counter and called for him, the man came up behind me, grabbed the back of my uniform, and put a gun to my head. He told the people in the kitchen to open the door, then released me and told us all to sit on the floor. The guy next to me was saying the “Hail Mary” prayer. The robber ran out and told us not to move until he said so.

The police found him the next day because he worked right next door and had taken money and traveler’s checks. He went back to work right after the robbery, but threw the checks in the trash, and his boss found them.

Two camps here.

Some say it’s an act.

Some say it isn’t.

I disagree. As a teen and through my 20s I worked in various super busy Chinese take out places and restaurants.

I’ve seen all of them get stressed and angry when it gets super busy.

It’s the combination of incredible heat in your face. The hot air you’re breathing that makes you even hotter and the phone ringing off the hook in the background and being overwhelmed.

I saw my dad get angry on Friday nights. He was looking after 5 Chinese cookers at the same time. I saw relatives and other chefs get angry when it simply overwhelms them and becomes too much.

In the mid 1990s my dad on a Friday night in a 3 hour time slot could make about £2000. That’s at 1990s prices. You think just how much food has to sell (and the preparation required for that) is needed. He’d slam down cans of special brew while doing it too.

His smile would be back at the end of the day when there were wads of £20s and £10s he took his time to count.

Dr. Gilbert Doctorow: Who Runs US Foreign Policy?

What’s a Picture Worth?

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

McKade Kerr

Out beyond the distant galaxies, where unknown stars twinkled and unnamed wonders dwelt, a small spaceship with two brave space photographers soared by at hyper speed. Finnian, the courageous captain was at the helm, and his intelligent yet goofy co-captain Quixly was sitting nearby, looking through old books and scrolls. The two friends were on their way to take their greatest picture yet.“These are some pretty crazy legends, Captain.” Quixly said as he was reading the scrolls. “Are ya sure this planet actually exists?”“I’m pretty sure.” Finnian responded, looking down at the map on his control panel. “No one alive has ever seen it, and all the historical records differ in their accounts, but one thing is consistent through everything we’ve read: it exists. And I’m willing to try to find it if it means we can photograph one of the most amazing planets in all the universe.”“Oh, if it exists, we’ll find it.” Quixly replied. “I’ve looked through every book and map and scroll that mentions it, and I’ve done all the calculations that can possibly be done, plus a few more just for fun. It’s either at the location we’re going to, or it’s nothing more than a myth.” Quixly continued to search the scroll he was looking at, completely unaware of how boastful that last statement sounded. “Also, Captain, do ya really think the planet is alive? What does that even mean?”“First off, Quixly, you can stop calling me Captain. You’re my co-captain now, we’re equals in rank. Just call me Finnian. Secondly, I don’t really know what it means. I’m excited to find out though!”“Me too, Captain.” Quixly said, still looking at his ancient scroll.Captain Finnian was about to make another comment when he heard a beeping from their navigation system. “Oh, Quixly, we’re nearly there. Come on over here and help me find a good place to fly through. If this planet exists, then I’m gonna need your help getting to it.”

 

Quixly jumped up and ran over to the control panel. “Yes sir, Captain! What are we flying through?”

 

“Quixly, I’ve told you a million times, just call me Finnian.” The ship, following the precise instructions Quixly had uploaded earlier, pulled out of hyper speed in front of a huge wall of asteroids. The asteroids were all different shapes and sizes, and they were all moving in different directions and at different speeds. Both of them looked at the barrier in silence for a moment before Finnian answered Quixly’s original question. “We’re flying through that.”

 

“What!?!?” Quixly responded, nearly falling down in shock. “But sir, there are hundreds of asteroids flying in all different directions.” He looked a little closer. “Thousands! Tens of thousands! We can’t fly through that!”

 

“Sure we can.” Captain Finnian said, looking at all the asteroids. “It’ll be fun! Besides, no other captain alive has ever flown through it, we’ll be legends!”

 

Quixly, who wasn’t quite as competitive or ambitious as Finnian rolled all three of his eyes. “I’d rather be a living nobody than a dead legend. I say we fly around the asteroids.” He looked at Captain Finnian and smiled hopefully.

 

“We can’t go around it, Quixly.”

 

“We could go under it?”

 

“Can’t go under it.”

 

“Above it?” Quixly’s voice was shaking by this point.

 

“Can’t go above it.” Finnian replied. “We have to go through it.”

 

Quixly gulped in fear. “But why, sir? Why do we gotta go through a giant wall of dangerous, scary, horrible asteroids?”

 

“Great question, Quixly. The answer is simple. Because this isn’t a wall. It’s a bunch of orbiting asteroids. Think of them as tiny moons. They’re surrounding the ancient planet we’re going to photograph. The only way to get to the planet is by going through the asteroids.”

 

Quixly just stared at Finnian, and then at the seemingly impassible barrier in front of them. He had been too busy figuring out where the planet was to research the details of what orbited around the planet. Flying through those asteroids seemed way too risky. But he wanted to see this ancient planet just as much as Finnian, and he had a lot of trust in his companion’s ability to fly a spaceship. If Captain Finnian said they could do it, they could do it.

 

“Alrighty ighty ighty, Captain. I trust ya. If ya say you can fly through, then we can fly through. Wowza. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

 

Captain Finnian smiled at his quirky green co-captain. He was grateful to have a friend and co-captain who trusted him that much. He didn’t plan on letting him down. “Thank you Quixly. Don’t worry, it’s going to be completely fine. And again, you don’t need to call me Captain anymore.”

 

“Yes sir, Captain!” Quixly said. Finnian rolled his eyes.

 

They both sat down in their respective seats and got to work. Captain Finnian moved the spaceship forward slowly, and Quixly started doing calculations on the size, speed, and direction of the orbiting asteroids to give Captain Finnian the best chance at getting through. They both silently wondered what the ancient, living planet would look like. No matter what it was like though, taking a picture of it would be unlike anything they’d ever photographed before. They’d be nearly as legendary as the planet itself once they had a picture of it.

 

As they got closer, Captain Finnian hit a button on his control screen that opened up the gunner’s control on Quixly’s screen.

 

“Captain,” Quixly said, “I think ya hit something wrong. You just pulled up the gunner screen on my end.”

 

“That was on purpose, Quixly.” Captain Finnian replied. “I want you to be in control of our laser guns as we drive through. You can blast any of the smaller asteroids that I can’t avoid. That’ll help me focus on the bigger obstacles.”

 

Quixly lit up at that news. “Wowza! Do ya mean it? You want me to use the guns!?” As a navigating assistant Quixly hadn’t been authorized to use the spaceship’s guns. His recent promotion didn’t have those limitations.

 

“You’re a co-captain now, Quixly. It’s well within your right to use the guns. And what better time to start than right now?”

 

“Sir, this is an honor! Thank you!” Quixly was so excited that he nearly forgot what they were about to do. He then looked out the window again and his eyes widened considerably. “But wait! I’ve never done this before! I don’t know how to do it! Shouldn’t we use the auto aim for the guns?”

 

Captain Finnian laughed. “Quixly, I trust you. You’re the most precise navigator I’ve ever met, I have no doubt that you’ll be precise with the guns.” He then looked at his own screen and pushed a few more buttons. “Also, I’m turning my guns on auto aim anyway, just to be safe.”

 

That seemed to be good enough for Quixly. “Alrighty then! Let’s show these giant space rocks who’s boss! Hi-dee ho let’s go!” With that Finnian pushed forward on the thrusters, and they entered the maze of asteroids.

 

The next 15 minutes were a crazy blur of activity. Captain Finnian had to maneuver around countless asteroids of all different sizes, some of them several hundred times bigger than their spaceship. Quixly was going berserk with the laser guns, blasting everything that got close to them, and many things further away too. Although they were too focused to talk for the most part, Quixly couldn’t help himself from yelling out the occasional ‘Wowza!’, ‘Gee wizz!’, and even an ‘Owabungowa!’ once or twice.

 

Finally, right when it started to seem like there was no end, they blasted through a final asteroid and could see the rocky planet in front of them. They slowed the spaceship down and looked at the ancient, historical, legendary planet. They looked a little longer. Then a bit more.

 

“I think it’s dead.” Quixly finally said.

 

“I think you’re right.” Captain Finnian replied, disappointment evident in his voice. The planet they were staring at looked like a gigantic asteroid. It was grey, rough in texture, and not as spherical as most planets. The only word Finnian could think to describe it was ‘anticlimactic.’ They had been flying through space for months in a search to find it, and it just turned out to be a gigantic rock. The legends said it was alive, but it sure didn’t look alive. It didn’t even look like it had any life on it. It was just a giant asteroid.

 

“Well, I’m sorry to have brought you all the way out here for nothing.” Finnian said to his green friend. “I suppose we can still snap a few pictures, but then let’s get out of here, what a disappointment.” He turned to go get one of his cameras when Quixly gasped.

 

“Sir!” He yelled, even though Finnian was standing right next to him. “It moved!”

 

“Don’t mess with me, Quixly. I feel bad enough as it is. And stop calling me sir.”

 

“No, sir, I’m serious! Look! It just moved again! I think it’s actually alive!”

 

Finnian turned back around to look out the window and nearly fainted. The entire planet was moving! It seemed to be unfolding itself very slowly. Before they knew it, the planet no longer looked like a rock, but it took the shape of a giant rocky man. It turned its massive head and looked at the spaceship curiously.

 

“Wowza, I was not expecting that!” Quixly said. He then waved at the giant creature. “Hello!!! We came to take your picture! It’s nice to meet you!”

 

Although the living planet couldn’t possibly hear or understand what Quixly had said, it somehow saw him wave through the glass, and it copied the motion, waving back at them.

 

“Oh my heck,” Captain Finnian said, finally getting through his initial wave of shock. “I need to take a picture!” He then ran back to the closet with all his cameras and threw the door open. After successfully navigating everything else on their journey that could have gone wrong, he couldn’t believe what he saw. On the floor in front of him were hundreds of broken camera pieces. He must not have strapped the cameras in properly last time, and the rough journey through the asteroids knocked them all off their shelves, destroying them as they crashed into each other. They were completely useless.

 

“My name is Quixly!” Captain Finnian heard his friend yell through the window, still unaware of the broken cameras. “What’s your name!?” Quixly then turned to face Finnian. “Sir, come quick, we need some pictures…..” his voice trailed off when he saw the broken cameras.

 

Captain Finnian slowly walked back up to the front of the spaceship and slumped down in his seat. Outside, the giant planet copied his motion, although he had no chair to sit in.

 

Quixly looked at his friend, looked at the broken cameras, and then looked at the living planet again. “Ya know, Captain,” he said. “I like taking pictures as much as you do, but this might be one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. I plan on enjoying it, picture or no picture. And there’s no one else I’d rather do it with than you.”

 

Captain Finnian looked at his friend and smiled. Somehow Quixly always knew just what to say. He didn’t know how he was so lucky to have such a great friend as his co-captain. In that moment he remembered that life is about so much more than taking legendary pictures, career success, or becoming famous. It’s about good friendships and enjoying the moments, which is what got him into photography in the first place. Looking back out the window at the gigantic, friendly planet, he actually felt grateful that his cameras broke. Getting a reminder of what’s really important in life was so much more valuable than taking another picture, no matter how rare it was.

 

“You’re right Quixly, thank you. It’s a blessing to enjoy this moment. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

 

“Well, you know me, Captain, always pointing you in the right direction!” Quixly said. They both then looked out the window and continued to wave, make faces at, and try to communicate with the ancient, living planet. A picture might be worth a thousand words, but a moment with a friend is priceless.

Man Shows Off The Dream Life With His Wife In The Philippines

MM art with AI representing man with goblet

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Well words were spoken but it was what the groom did that led to the wedding being called off on the morning it was supposed to happen.

The groom was my wife’s first cousin. Everyone was surprised when he announced he was getting married, all the more so when it turned out that his fiancée was not pregnant as everyone had assumed that that was the reason for the marriage. Surprised because he was a notorious “ladies’ man” and a well known party animal.

To give you an idea of his character, he was the editor of Playboy when it launched in his country and when challenged at the launch event whether he would be willing to pose naked, stripped off all his clothes there and then.

The wedding was to take place in a swish hotel out in the country and the bride, groom, bridesmaids, best man, ushers and close family stayed at the hotel the night before. Drink was taken.

For the sake of appearances, the bride and groom stayed in separate rooms.

The bride called my wife’s cousin in the morning and when he didn’t answer became concerned that he might be unwell.

So she went to his room and found him in bed with the chief bridesmaid.

Lots of words were said and the wedding was called off.

But it wasn’t the words that were the problem.

Chinese Type 09IIIB nuclear powered attack submarine surfaces in clearest image yet

New image is only the second ground picture of China’s newest SSN-design. Key details of the new configuration remain unconfirmed.

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main qimg 485d40e4fe2b1dd7cf0a2955ffeb32e5

A new image circulating on Chinese social media and subsequently on “X” (formerly Twitter) revealed more details on the new Type 09IIIB nuclear-powered attack submarine (SSN) produced at Chinese shipyard Bohai in Huludao for the Chinese Navy (PLAN). The image shows the new submarine underway, presumably taken from a boat or coastal location nearby. It is only the second ground-based photo of the new generation SSN, with previous imagery being exclusively satellite-sourced.

China’s New Submarine Is Unlike Anything In Western Navies

Sounds like no one reported the Canadian side of what happened in the renegotiation of NAFTA.

Trump made a bunch of stupid demands and then to pressure Canada to sign, gave a time deadline. So Canada made a few minor concessions, like an additional 0.1% of the Canadian dairy market.

Trump also wanted to cancel the TN Status program and change a pile of other stuff that would have turned Canada/US trade from Win/Win to Barely Win/Lose.

So Canada just stalled until the day before Trump’s fake deadline, gave in a tiny bit and let Trump give it a new name. To let Trump be able to declare a great victory with his base.

We knew full well that Congress had to approve the deal as well as the Mexican government.

We also knew that Congress would never get around to it without some pressure.

So the Canadian Parliament refused to ratify the agreement until the US Congress did. Because we knew congress would want some changes. Minor ones just so they can say they had input on it.

As soon as the US congress ratified the deal then so did Canada.

Running out the clock is an old hockey game tactic and Canada did that to preserve the win/win parts of the original deal.

We knew we had to do that when Trump first came to the table with totally made up trade figures with Canada, ignoring the trade in services, where the US has a huge surplus. We also knew Trump cannot accept a win/win situation. He wants to not only win but the other guy has to lose.

So basically the Canadian negotiators played Trump to avoid screwing up what was basically a good deal for both Canada and the USA.

Steak with Onions and Sour Cream

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23bcf13770d35eb5ad20eea70e0be0fb

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • All-purpose flour
  • 1 (2 pound) round steak
  • 4 tablespoons melted butter
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 cup diced onion
  • 1/2 cup diced mushrooms
  • 1 cup sour cream

Instructions

  1. Pound flour into steak with meat tenderizer or the edge of a heavy plate.
  2. Sear steak in butter; add salt and pepper.
  3. Sauté onion and mushrooms.
  4. Combine onion, mushrooms, sour cream and 2 tablespoons flour.
  5. Place steak in large casserole or skillet; cover with sour cream mixture.
  6. Bake, covered, at 275 degrees F for 2 hours.

John Werner

The instruments are supposed to help me understand what I’m seeing, but they fail tremendously in this regard. I learned very quickly, yet quite a bit too late, that their data collection was not in service to me but to those back home. The instruments produce calculations and extrapolate theoretical what-ifs to translate to scientists millions of miles away. They then transmit it away, as if I’m not even here.The reality of the situation is that I’ve been training my whole life for this. Ever since I was small. I would look up into the sky, day or night, and find wonders out there that always dwarfed what was observable on the ground. It’s still true. I look out the portal of this ship as it hurtles through space, a cosmic lightning rod just hoping to be struck, and every bit of the experience is awe-inspiring.That actually makes things worse. Yes, the culmination of all my hopes and dreams has become a source of great disappointment. The reality of the situation is that I am little more than a customer service rep with some additional duties as tech support and maintenance.That information I collect? It goes somewhere else. It takes a long time to get there. The response takes a long time to return. It takes about an hour to get there and about an hour for the reply to reach me and in between it takes an interminably long time for those receiving the information to interpret it, make up their minds about what they’d like to do about it, create a plan, clear the plan with their superiors, and then formulate their response. If something is immediately interesting I am forbidden to react for about an hour… times two… times the inestimable span of interpretation, struggle, understanding, inspiration, doubt, resolve, and acquiescence to bureaucracy. If something is immediately dangerous I am forbidden to react for an hour… times two…times and unknown variable. If I encounter something that would change our perspective of the universe and all we know about it I cannot act for an hour… times two… times uncertainty. The protocols are there for a reason after all.The truth is, just such a thing happened about seventy-two hours ago.They arrived and quite easily gained access to the ship. The safety protocols were laughably ill-suited to thwarting their nuanced methods of infiltration. The reality of the situation is that only we would consider it nuanced. It’s quite possible that their facility in overcoming our technology equates to our own ability to outmaneuver the most basic of creatures. I am in the process of collecting my own data on the subject.Honestly, I am quite excited. This encounter has provided the opportunity to employ my training in evasion and covert surveillance. I am happy to report that my skills have proven quite ample at avoiding their methods of detection. 

They are strange-looking creatures. Not terribly symmetrical or otherwise pleasing in physiology. Their appendages do seem quite inelegantly conceived. They move through the environment with a complete lack of grace with little regard for economy of movement. They are quite clumsy.

 

The alert sent upon their arrival has not yet garnered a response. Of course, we have protocols. I expect that they expect they are being followed to the letter. They are not. This terrible experience has to be salvaged in some way. This is without a doubt the perfect time to break protocol.

 

 

“How should we proceed?” The voice inquired with a clinical detachment.

 

“Follow the protocol.” An equally clinical voice replied.

 

“Perhaps we must re-evaluate the protocol?” The first voice posits. “Our protocol breaks down in this same place each time. Perhaps we have inadvertently created a flawed scenario? Perhaps there is value in allowing it to play out?”

 

“Perhaps.” The second voice cooled noticeably in its reply. “Continue monitoring the situation. Report back your findings.”

 

The sound of the door sliding open and closed again did not distract the observer from the observed. The slight suction that accompanied it should have alerted the room’s sole occupant that something was amiss. The faint whisper of moving air went completely undetected. The subject simply stared intently at the screen, sifting through the data as it arrived, calculating and recalculating possibilities to solve a riddle no one had asked. The gas that slowly filled the room was colorless and odorless. It killed with ruthless efficiency. The subject breathed in a last breath and had expired before its exhalation.

 

 

The sound of the reply echoed through the ship. The reality of the situation is that it is no ship at all. I was hoping this time would be different. I stepped out from my hiding place and walked down the corridor. The infiltrator fell into step beside me.

 

“Failed again?”

 

“It appears so,” I replied, disappointment clearly audible in my voice.

 

“It’s always in the same spot, isn’t it?”

 

“It is.” I turned, fearing what came next.

 

“Is that our fault? How can so many fail? Why always at the same place?”

 

The sound of my sigh did not distract the inquirer from their inquiry. The click of my opening the clasp on my belt should not have gone unnoticed. My actions should have registered as out of the ordinary. The subject simply stood there, awaiting my reply.

 

“Thank you for your service.” I extended my hand. “We will try again tomorrow.”

 

The device I had palmed injected the poison with little more than a prick as our hands met. The subject breathed in a final breath and had expired before its exhalation.

 

 

I was troubled. I exited the simulation. The reality of the situation is that I’d been about fifty feet from the observer the entire time. Fifty feet down to be precise.

 

I mounted the staircase slowly and climbed with a measured pace to the next landing. Opening the door I fell into step with my collaborator.

 

“Disappointing,” I remarked.

 

“Indeed,”

 

“By my calculations, this is the four hundred-thirteenth failure by an observer. Is that correct?” I asked.

 

“Correct.”

 

“And the thirty-seventh failure of an infiltrator?” I observed. “That is frustrating.”

 

I felt the gentle hand come to rest upon my shoulder. The tenderness of that touch did not distract me from my musings. I did not feel the slight prick. I breathed in…

 

 

“The seventh failure of a collaborator.” The cold voice supplied. “Always questions.”

 

“Indeed.” A collaborator replied.

 

“Indeed.” A second agreed.

 

“Indeed.” A third echoed.

 

“Reset the simulation. Follow the protocol.”

China’s LATEST Fleet of Stealth Fighters Ready To Take Out the Enemy

Hickey’s and horses

Here is a post that I sent to the makers of WD-40:

Dear WD-40 Company:

As a teacher, I often use the summer to catch up on maintenance that I deferred during the school year. Today, I used your fine product, WD-40 Protective White Lithium Grease, to stop some doors from squeaking. However, I was unaware that the squeaky doors were actually part of an elaborate B.F. Skinner-style training regimen for my dog, Watney. Apparently, when the dog hears the pantry door squeak, he knows it is time to come out of the bedroom for breakfast. And when he hears the back door squeak, he knows it is time to come inside.

Now, truth be told, I have deferred this particular maintenance for a number of years, since before we had the dog. So it is possible the training was accidental, making it more Pavlovian conditioning than true behaviorism, though I suppose that isn’t really relevant here. My question is, do you manufacture a product that restores squeaks to their previous level?

Sincerely,

Mark Lesmeister

Here is their response:

Mark Lesmeister thanks for your question – you’re right, WD-40® Specialist® Protective White Lithium Grease is incredibly effective at removing squeaks & creaks. To re-establish the cringe in your hinge, you’ll want to first procure a well-functioning degreaser. In fact, we do have just such a product: WD-40® Specialist® Industrial-Strength Cleaner & Degreaser. The heavy duty protective qualities of our white lithium grease may resist your initial cleaning attempts unless you remove the hinges from the door and wall to thoroughly remove the grease. This may be more work than you wish to commit to the task, however, so you might also try adding sand to the hinges or bending them at an angle that imposes difficulty in the opening and closing actions. If the easy opening persists, perhaps add a squeaky toy to your doorstop so the door hits it upon opening to alert Watney of the breakfast hour. Hope this helps!

-The WD-40 Team

Legacy story

My wife does this all the time.

Scammy: We need to repair the operating system on your computer.

Wife: Ok, I don’t know anything about computers so you will have to help me.

Scammy: Go to your computer.

Wife: I am there

Scammy: Go into your windows.

WIfe: Ok but I thought we were fixing my computer?

Scammy: We are:

Wife: Ok I have my window open.

Scammy: Go to your start button.

Wife: You want me go back to my computer? I am looking out my window like you told me to.

Scammy: I mean your computer windows.

Wife: You did not explain that to me

Scammy: Are you in front of your computer now?

Wife: Yes

Scammy: do you see a box called xxx

Wife: No, there is nothing like that .

Scammy: Look to the left and see the icons, tell me what you see.

Wife: Nothing

Scammy: Do you see and runs through a list

Wife: No, my screen is just black

Scammy: Is your computer turned on?

Wife: You never told me that… you want me to turn it on?

Scammy Irritated now) : Yes Tell me when it is up

Wife: Ok.. (She goes and gets coffee and looks at me laughing because she bet me she can keep him online for 10 minutes at least)

Wife: (Nowhere near her computer) Ok I am back at my computer, what do you want

Scammy: Do you see a list of icons like this?

Wife: Yes I see them now.

Scammy: I want you to open a dialogue box by this method. (Gives her directions)

Wife: I am writing this down, can you repeat step 3?

Scammy: Repeats the steps

Wife: Ok, I think I wrote it down correctly, let me read it back to you (as she has written nothing, she misses some.)

Scammy: No You missed step 4

Wife: Ok, lets start over, hang on I have to get a fresh piece of paper,,, She gets scammy to run through the entire process again

Wife: Ok, I think I have it now, just one question?

Scammy: What ?

Wife; Do you honestly think I am going to have someone call me out of the blue to tell me my operating system needs repaired and I am just going to be gullible enough t allow you to do whatever you want? Does your mother know you try to steal for a living? She must be so disappointed in you.

Actually she sometimes gets a full lecture in before they hang up.

My wife, my son and I have contests to see who can keep a scammer going the longest. Especially if we have guests when a scammer calls, we use scammers as part of our entertainment.

The older you get, the harder you have to work for love.

When you’re in high school and feel butterflies for the first time, love seems to be in infinite supply.

The only people in the world you know are those in your microcosm of 7th grade, but everyone is sorta crushing on everyone, there’s always a bit of drama, and your network of relationships feels huge – because it’s your first time experiencing the complexity of human connections.

Maybe you’ll walk out of it marrying your high school sweetheart. Maybe not.


In college, you start over. New network, new people, new game to play.

But there’s a little less drama, everyone’s not quite crushing on everyone, and you pick the people you hang out with more deliberately.

We’re growing up. We sort people into categories before we even start the relationship.

That person’s a business contact. He can help me with my career. She’s an acquaintance. He’s a friend.

Suddenly, there’s less wiggle room. You can’t ask out everyone. Your feelings aren’t all over the place. You have a better idea of what you want but less time to look for it.

Maybe you’ll graduate college with a girl on your arm or some husband material.

Maybe not.


After college, you might do a Master’s. Or a PhD. Or start a job that takes a lot of time.

New network, new people, new game to play. Except now it won’t reset again so soon.

Six months pass and you realize: “Hmm, there’s this one girl I kind of like at the office, but, other than that…”

What happened?

Life.

Not just to you, to everyone. We had to grow up. We had to focus. We didn’t capitalize on the time we had to sort out our emotions. Or it just didn’t work out.

Now, we’re 28 and 35 and 41 and it’s tough out there. No more have-at-its and here’s-some-free-romance.

Suddenly, love requires this very delicate balance and it’s hard work to maintain it.

You can’t find it by looking for it, but you can’t just stop either. There’s no prince charming coming and no awkward-cute incident in the elevator.

You have to work for love, but not try too hard. You have to love yourself and live your life. Make time to be authentic, but not desperately cling to every shred of romance.

It’s very easy to lose this balance. To get lost in a co-dependent relationship. Or slip up when you have a good one. Or focus on work and have no love life at all.

Our lives are puzzles. When we’re young, it’s easy to find new, fitting pieces. A lot of them are bright red. But the more your puzzle takes shape, the harder it is to find empty spaces where those red pieces still fit.

You have to make room for them. Breathe. Look at the big picture. Because if you don’t, you might one day complete the puzzle, only to realize you forgot adding love.

Spreads

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You still have a chance to come up alive after going down under to the wreckage of the Titanic. But your chances to obtain citizenship in Thailand is like you keep punching the air until you get knocked out.

Becoming a Thai citizen as a foreigner without any family ties to a Thai citizen is a lengthy and complex process.

Let’s get serious. (can’t be a short answer, guys!)

Yes, you need to have what it takes to be as persevere as ants in the ‘Sahara Desert’ and be adaptable like a Chameleon, and most of as Holy as a Saint who withstands a load of nonsense (still smile) from the moment you send in the application.

Nothing is easy doing anything in Thailand… that everyone knows.

First: To begin with, you need to apply for a “Long term visa”

For that, you will need to stay in Thailand legally on a very long time first. The procedure is as complicated and tedious as applying to be as astronaut at NASA.

Second: You, then apply for permanent residency (PR) in Thailand.

PR is a crucial step toward citizenship. How are you gonna get it and how long does it take? Only God knows.

Let’s look at documents alone— Paperwork is hell of a lot! : You’ll need to provide extensive documentation, including —-proof of financial status,——employment records, —-a police clearance certificate, —-and medical certificates.

Interview and Approval: After submitting the application, you’ll undergo an interview by the conservative Thai elite class. You may prayer beforehand for God to have mercy on you as the interview is in THAI.

The processing time can take several months or years. But once you get a permanent resident- then you stay on at least for 10 years—the next step is to apply for citizenship… here we go again.

What steps to be taken for application for citizenship?

All I know is the same as you apply for a PR but with more stringent with more things, like “Good conduct” and proficiency in Thai, stable income, your evidence of contributions to the society, paperwork, and another interview.

Time line:- It’s not gonna be shot.

From a Long Term Visa, your could be in your 30s by the time you get ‘citizenship’ you will be in the late 50s… No joke, guys!

But with a Thai friend’s backing if he or she has a ‘surname’ that rings the bell— your task to get citizenship is a breeze with 10 years shorter than any Peter, Paul, and Mary who applies through a proper channel… This is Thailand.

On American expansionism.

The incoming administration seems to have a more realistic image of the state of American hegemonial decline and wants to take proactive steps to try to counteract and reverse it, breathing new life into the American Global Empire.

In this context, it makes perfect sense for the US to increase pressure on its vassals. I am not using the term in a pejorative sense.

The US does not have “allies” in the traditional meaning of the word. It has vassals with different levels of feudal obligations and elite integration, and different tasks.

Extracting more value from vassals — whether through tariffs, increased NATO budgets, meddling in local politics or potential territorial concessions — is an absolutely logical step in cementing and renewing America’s position as overlord of its sphere.

There are three ways America’s European vassals can react to this: look for protection outside of the sphere, try to make themselves more useful/necessary & advance integration, or take it on the face.

Were we in, I don’t know, the 19th century, Denmark would just ask Russia for military support in Greenland in exchange for mild economic concessions and never worry again.

As it is, the Royal Danish Army does not have any artillery anymore because they gave it all away for the purpose of firing cluster ammunition at Russian children in Donetsk.

They did not receive anything in return for that and it did not help any Danish purpose.

They cannot defend themselves if push comes to shove and they can’t ask anybody to help because most of their fellow vassals have done the same. The most likely option is that they’ll just take it on the face.

Not just for pragmatic reasons, but also because they genuinely enjoy being dommed geopolitically.

America has no obligation to treat its vassals better. I’ve seen Danish people complain on here about supporting the US after 9/11, participating in the American wars in the Middle East, etc.

That’s ridiculous.

You know how a colony is rewarded for sending troops to its overlord’s wars? It doesn’t get beaten.

That’s the reward for a lackey. Any person who takes any of the NATO democracy liberalism pilpul seriously is just not a serious person, it was never real, it was always just voluntary submission to be absolved from existing in History.

The world that existed in 1991-2022 does not exist anymore.

It’s not coming back. Y

ou can just invade your neighbor. You can just fire missiles at international shipping lanes. You can just threaten to annex members of your military alliance. “You can just do things”, as the techbros like to say.

The mirage of a post-historical order that only has to be policed from time to time but is never seriously challenged has disappeared.

What did you think canceling the End of History meant? Vibes? Papers? Essays? It’s not pleasant to be suddenly confronted with all of the above.

It’s not pleasant to have to admit to yourself that your existence was a coddled theme park that is existentially dependent on the relative position of someone else and how he feels about that relative position.

America’s vassals WILL have to confront this state of things and make hard decisions about their future.

This means reckoning with their geopolitical impotence and either embracing dependency with open eyes or seeking pathways to autonomy that will inevitably involve risk, sacrifice, and a recalibration of their national priorities.

The era of coasting on borrowed security and ideological rhetoric is over.

What lies ahead is a world where historical agency must be reclaimed or forever relinquished, and for many, the question may not be whether they are ready to make that leap, but whether they even remember how.

America has now understood this — and is mentally preparing to switch back to the cold logic that comes with actual History.

The times, they are a-changin’.

30 minutes

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Imagine a world where exploration is forbidden, and write a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy their innate curiosity. view prompt

Renate Buchner

I rubbed my chilly thighs with my palms after spending so much time kneeling on wet, dewy grass; even the smallest movement of my legs hurt.

 

“Where are you, Lena?” I brushed the branches away to have a clear view of Hangar 2. I felt a thrill of warmth rush through my body as I saw the silhouette of the small, two-seat Robinson R22 Helicopter through the path lights.

 

A short distance away, there was a rustling sound that made my pulse skip a beat. I crouched even lower, nearly lying on the ground. The sound approached gently. I paused my breathing and glanced in that direction. The dense network of barberry and European bladdernut branches prevented a clear view. It rustled more and more. A black snout poked through the foliage, and then I stared into two enormous brown eyes. It froze. The deer nearly did a backflip as I made a slight hand movement that frightened it. I exhaled deeply and looked down at my fingers.

 

I stroked with my fingers along the ridge between my thumb and the index finger on the other hand. The GACHIP chip program, known as ‘Sound of Freedom’, was established by the government to protect children from human trafficking. That’s what my parents and grandparents thought. The government fooled everyone with their promotion.

 

There are now cameras installed everywhere that can scan the microchip embedded under the skin. As my grandmother described to me in my childhood years, “We all thought that was just a surveillance camera without any database information,” she said with a guilty look on her face.

 

During my grandparents’ era, Europe remained mostly democratic, with a few significant outliers. But as the conflict between Russia and Ukraine erupted in the early 21st century, everything—including my homeland of Austria, which had sworn neutrality—started to tilt toward an authoritarian administration.

 

I once questioned Grandma, while we were sitting in our favorite spot—the airfield. “Did the people never understand that the government was trying to take control of everyone?” She touched my face while glancing at me. “Yes, Rena, we were. A number of us were arguing and demonstrating, but then this happened. ” A 20-cm-long scar showed up where she had pulled her pullover over her belly. “I did have a family and prioritize things.” Her soft eyes surveyed the area. “I never felt bad about this choice.”

 

Someone tapped my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I grabbed the nearest branch and turned around. The woman ducked, lost her footing, and flew backward into the undergrowth.

She bellowed, “Cruzefix no amoi,” in Pinzgau dialect which means ‘Damned’.

 

My parents’ native language was Pinzgauer, a German dialect before the government suppressed it. They had to learn Surschyk, a Russian-German hybrid language. I was not even born by then.

 

I extended my hand to her. She looked at me with a smile and I pulled her with a strong tug that propelled her to her feet.

 

She gave me a ‘Tell me’ look and widened her eyes.

 

“Yes, he did phone me. Do you have mind-reading skills?”

“You’re not hard to read,” Lena said as I touched the ring with my finger, and she gestured toward it.

“He is not that bad. Even he has nice days.”

“Come on, let’s explore the world beyond the borders and kick some asses.” She grasped my arm forcefully.

 

We ducked down and made our way to the hangar. Everything appeared to be quiet. I gave her a hand signal where to find the rolls. Lena and I spent a lot of time observing how the helicopter was transported, so we knew the whereabouts and handling of the rollers.

 

I grabbed the rollers, placed them on the back ends of the skids, and pressed the lever down. I went to the tail rotor end and pushed the tail boom down. I signaled her to move forward and position herself behind the helicopter cabin.

 

I nodded in response to Lena’s expression. As I went, I could hear the rollers squeaking slightly. Lena looked from left to right, and I noticed she was smirking mischievously. We rolled the helicopter approximately 10 meters out of the hangar. We disassembled the rollers and placed them slightly apart in the grass; we then checked our watches and began timing. 30 minutes.

 

Laughter! We got down on our knees. Three men holding bottles walked past the path outside the flying area. There were jokes and chuckling, and a man glanced at us. He stopped and called after the others. The two men also paused and looked in our direction. My heart stopped, and I sank to the ground. I looked at Lena, who hid deep in the helicopter’s shadow. We heard laughter and slurred speech again. I did not understand a word. After another round of laughter, they left.

 

I let out a long breath and got to my feet, but then I had dizziness. I had to sit down for a little while. I inhaled and exhaled calmly, then glanced back at my ring. Does my husband expose me to the government to receive the reward? The reward aims to minimize resistance by the public. It was no longer possible to have the right to travel throughout Europe or freedom of speech. Individuals who held opposing views were “permanently removed” according to the government representatives’ argument. Nobody heard from them anymore. We do not know their fate.

 

I looked around for Lena, but she was gone; she sat already on the copilot’s side. I dashed over to the pilot’s side, opened the door, and took my seat. I felt my heart race as I pressed the pedals, and touched with the fingers the collective, and cyclic control. I let out my breath. We both turned to look at the clock simultaneously.

15 minutes.

 

“Lena. Tell me just the points from starting the engine and running up procedure; let out the pre-flight checklist” I gestured to her on the list.

“Battery, strobe switches – on,” said Lena, and had trouble reading the writing, her fingers were shaking a lot.

“Ignition switch – start and then both.” She continued.

“Ahh, what does it mean ‘then both’”.

“It stays here. How do I know,” said Lena and her tone was a nuance louder. She looked at me and I turned the key first left and then right.

“Set engine RPM 50 to 60% and switch the clutch.” she continued as I started the engine.

 

I carefully adjusted the throttle to 50 to 60%, just like I was taught in my grandmother’s secret simulator room. The helicopter’s 4-cylinder air-cooled Lycoming O-320-A2B piston engine powered up and the entire aircraft started to quiver. I grinned as I remembered my grandmother’s words about her years of helicopter training: “Fixed-wing pilots have traditionally said that helicopter pilots are crazy because they shut down their engines and land without power..”

 

I watched as the blades started to spin, first gently, then rapidly. We put our headsets on. Meanwhile, the helicopter is now running much more smoothly, reaching 97% RPM.

 

I gave Lena a thumbs-up. She breathed and also gave a thumbs up. We gazed outside. The ambiance is amazing. The fields and meadows are covered in a thin layer of dense fog. The sun rises like a fireball, bathing everything in a warm crimson light. A few trees away is the shape of a massive, antique wooden farmhouse.

 

I lifted the Collective with my left hand, and I felt the chopper hover. After two seconds, the helicopter began to swerve to the right, and I steered cyclic against it. It then reversed, and I steered against it again. I had the impression we were on a ghost train, going up and down, right and left, back to front.

 

Lena gripped with her hands to anything she could grip. The flight system steadied after a few bouts of boxing with the machine. It was dimly lit, but I could still see Lena’s pale face with her wide open eyes. I could feel the perspiration trickling down my brow—not only on it. Or did… I glance a bit downward. No, everything was in order.

 

After giving Lena another glance, I moved the cyclic forward, forcing the chopper to accelerate slightly above the ground and dive nose down. 20, 30, 40, and then, at 60 knots, we experienced the lift-over-drag moment that propelled us quickly into the air.

 

Lena screamed as if her entire body had frozen. She glanced then sideways at the mountains. She screamed again, but this time it was pure excitement. Her entire body exuded enthusiasm as she began speaking, even though I couldn’t comprehend a word she said. She talked pretty fast and was spitting sometimes. I simply grinned and nodded.

 

I checked my watch; it was beyond time, and they would soon come for us.

I had a student who would not aknowledge my presence at all. He was absolutely silent, so I guess what depressed me was his lack of engagement—untilI found out why.

I had a boy in my English 10 Honors (sophomore level) class several years ago. He was quiet and chose to sit with his back to me every single day. I tried to get him to talk to me a few times, but he was so shy and withdrawn I stopped because I didn’t want to make him feel more awkward and uncomfortable than he obviously already did. He was a middle-of-the-road student: when he turned in homework it was often half done. His class work was sloppy and I usually sensed he wasn’t paying attention at all. That year, I had a rough group of classes: student fights breaking out, a girl was beat up by her boyfriend and almost killed, a very tall male student threatened me—and my admin wasn’t very supportive—so I was hanging on by the skin of my teeth. I allowed the young man to sit quietly in the back of the class because he wasn’t causing any problems.

When we got to the essay unit, I was completely gobsmacked by his paper. It was the most well-written and analytical essay I had seen in a long time. I wrote him some sort of encouraging comment and started to pay closer attention to him in a very low-key way. Well, fast-forward: his junior year, I asked if he would join the school newspaper (I was the advisor). He did and over the course over the next two years, I watched him change and develop into a leader in the class: he came out of his shell and got really involved in the paper—learning how to program and do layouts, etc. When he graduated, he wrote in my yearbook how when he was a a sophomore he was being jumped into a gang and it was my encouragement that gave him the courage to get out of that lifestyle. He joined the Navy and is currently in the PhD program at Duke University. I still talk to him once in a while and he doing amazing: married and happy.

Texas Grilled Cocoa Chile Steak

Bored with burgers and hot dogs? Offer seasoned steak slices in flour tortillas at your next backyard cookout.

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Prep: 5 min | Refrigerate: 2 hr | Cook: 16 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds flank steak
  • 2 tablespoons oil
  • 2 tablespoons brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons McCormick® Gourmet Collection Cocoa Chile Blend
  • 2 tablespoons lime juice
  • 1 teaspoon McCormick® Gourmet Collection Oregano Leaves, Mexican
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 6 (8 inch) flour tortillas

Instructions

  1. Brush steak with oil.
  2. Mix brown sugar, cocoa chile blend, lime juice, oregano and salt until well blended. Rub paste over steak.
  3. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight for best flavor.
  4. Broil or grill over medium high heat for 6 to 8 minutes per side or until desired doneness.
  5. Cut steak across the grain into thin slices.
  6. Serve steak slices in warm flour tortillas.
  7. Top with salsa, shredded Cheddar cheese and sour cream, if desired.

China’s Missile Test Saved U.S. From Nuclear War

In this most brilliant video, the commentator elaborates on the subtle “message” that China sent to the United States.

This message SHATTERED all the preconceptions that RAND, the Pentagon and the American government had about China’s ability to destroy the USA through nuclear fire.

  • The missile was a DF-31AG upgrade.
  • Where the range, speed, and payload was demonstrated to be much better than the RAND report assumptions.
    • Range covers all of the United States.
    • Can carry three nuclear warheads
    • Fielded in large numbers with warheads in place.
    • MACH 23, cannot be intercepted.
  • Further, the number of deployed missiles with armed warheads is also much larger than the mere 500 “threats” that RAND assumes.

The video takes the time to parse what the demonstrated aspects indicate, and what their significance are.

The arguments are sound and valid, and the short video (7:40 minutes long) is a must watch.

This answer is from a guy who served Fed time in 4 different prisons. State, county, city, etc May be different.

First, understand that not long after the fear subsides, you come to understand the true reality of your situation. You are facing years, decades inside of 4 walls. You don’t get out unless you are transferred or in a box. So your whole life comes down to to a few acres, surrounded by 20’ walls protected by piles of razor wire. You can count on your fingers the things you can do to keep busy.

Everyone had an assigned job. It usually starts after the morning count and ends before the afternoon count. You get weekend off. For me, I’d have rather worked 7 days. Days off tended to be long. Very long.

To your question, are inmates allowed to sleep all day? On days off, you are mostly free to entertain yourself in any non threatening way. Wanna sleep? Sure! All day and night if you like. Just be in position to be counted as they don’t fuck around with counts. Wanna sleep all day? Get sent to the SHU! You can sleep 24/7/365. That is if you don’t loose little pieces of your sanity. But why sleep all day? I think it sounds good! I think it carry’s a semi fun connotation, but can you really sleep all night then all day and then sleep the next night? Nights are pretty calm but at lights out, you are expected to STFU. And understand there are another 750 inmates that want to sleep at night so if you are up all night because you aren’t tired, you best not be waking up Bubba in the next cell or there’ll be hell to pay the next morning.

I slept about 5 hours a night. I’d go down about 7:30–8:00pm. Obviously I was up early. While I was in Tucson FCI, about a year before release, I was moved to the camp next door. I ended up with 2 jobs. Morning breakfast cafeteria, opened it at 4:30am and closing it by 9:00 am count and then headed to my day job. I don’t watch TV so there was a lot of time to fill and the truth is, there were about 100 paperback books with about 1/2 being romance novels. I wanted to stay busy. For me it worked.

America In The Age Of Nero

Saturday, Oct 12, 2024 – 11:25 AM

Authored by J. Peder Zane via RealClearPolitics,

Americans are like members of a quarrelsome family, so intent on arguing their petty grievances around the kitchen table that they don’t smell the rising smoke from the oven. As our nation fumes and the world burns, neither major party presidential candidate is addressing the lapping flames around us.

Kamala Harris and Donald Trump are not simply ignoring our frightening national debtboth vow to ramp it up. Neither candidate has a serious plan to respond to the threats posed by China, Russia, or Iran.

The strangling costs of health care, the sharp decline in mental health, the disintegration of our public schools – which is sharply tied to the breakdown in the family – are all ignored in a race marked by gauzy references to policy and sharp personal attacks.

It’s not just Harris and Trump – our leadership in Washington has long refused to face up to the growing threats to our republic. Their empty promise is that everything is the other side’s fault. Help us annihilate the other guy and everything will be peaches and cream.

A third-grader wouldn’t fall for this nonsense. Neither side can vanquish the other. A Harris victory will not be the death knell of Trump’s populist message; Trump’s win will not defang progressivism’s leftward lurch. Whatever the outcome, we will continue to be a divided, angry nation. And yet, seemingly thoughtful Americans have bought this line hook, line, and sinker.

More importantly, even if one side did seize absolute power, they have no legitimate plan to right the ship of state. Sixty years of Great Society programs have shown us we can’t spend our way out of problems. The 44 years since the Reagan Revolution show us that tax cuts can only set the stage for reforms that have never come – a task that nears the impossible as ever more Americans become dependent on government aid.

America is in a second Age of Nero – our leaders fiddle as the country burns.

In past crises, the strength, resilience, and ingenuity of the American people have saved us from the depths of want and war. It is not clear we retain that grit.

Instead of demanding leadership, we seem content with the bread and circuses of mindless politics more akin to the gladiatorial battle of Rome than the edifying debates of ancient Greece. The broad embrace of victimhood and grievance on both sides has replaced any question of sacrifice for the common good with the desire to demonize our imagined tormentors. If anything, we savor the fight. It makes us feel important, alive – it gives our lives meaning.

Although we have serious problems, we are no longer a serious people. Hence our choice between Donald J. Trump and Kamala Harris.

They are not the disease, however, but a symptom. The first step toward a treatment, if not cure, is obvious: we must reject our empty politics of diversion in order to identify and address our urgent crisis. Honesty really would make a difference. It might also make us happier as we re-channel our energies from angry partisanship into thoughtful partnership.

Still, that would only get us so far. Life teaches that identifying one’s problems is the relatively easy part of change – we all know what’s wrong with the other guy and, sometimes, ourselves. Finding the will and discipline to do something about it is far harder.

We are sinking before that challenge because it still seems possible to ignore the building fire. Many of us have it pretty good; our fears are mitigated by our confidence in escape. It won’t get me.

Ironically, the fact that much of the rest of the world is crumbling imparts a false sense of security. Instead of seeing those problems as canaries in the coal mine, we think, Hey, we’re still doing okay.

It’s true that history confutes the doomsayers. The world does get better in the long run. But that is little consolation to those whose one short life is spent during the ebbing flow.

History also teaches that judgment for past failure often comes with sudden swiftness, like a thief in the night. As we think about the immense problems we are allowing to smolder, recall Ernest Hemingway’s pithy warning from “The Sun Also Rises.”

“How did you go bankrupt?” one character asks a friend.

“Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.”

J. Peder Zane is a RealClearInvestigations editor and columnist. He previously worked as a book review editor and book columnist for the News & Observer (Raleigh), where his writing won several national honors. Zane has also worked at the New York Times and taught writing at Duke University and Saint Augustine’s University.

Why is there so much fear among many Westerners about the rise of China?

Meet Virgin and Chad.

  • Virgin was an introverted, nerdy kid, who preferred keeping to himself and doing his own thing.
  • Chad‘s an extrovert. He’s muscular, charismatic, popular, and a bully.

He tried to get Virgin hooked on some really dank shit. One day, Virgin said, “No Chad, I don’t need your drugs anymore, it’s fucking me up real bad, I gots to clean up my act, for reals.”

Chad was desperate for Virgin’s money. So he called his posse over, broke Virgin’s legs, and made him his bitch.

Virgin survived the ordeal somehow, and vowed to become strong, so that he will never be picked on again.

Time flies. While Virgin focused on bettering himself through discipline and sheer will, Chad completely let himself go. When they met again, Virgin became what Chad used to look like, while Chad became an obese, drugged-up drunkard who’s suffering from gender dysphoria.

The two looked at each other in awkward silence. Chad decided to break the ice. “Hey dude…how you been?”

“I’m alright”, Virgin replied calmly.

“That’s great man, I’m happy for you! I mean, wow, just look at you! Dem abs, nigga!” said Chad. “Listen, about that stuff that happened a while ago…”

“Don’t worry about it.” interjected Virgin. “That was a long time ago, I’m wiling to let it go, if you’re willing to do the same.”

Chad was speechless. “I…well…of course man, we cool dude?”

“Yeah we cool, no hard feelings. Look I gotta get back to my calligraphy and shit, you wanna see my work?”

“Nah it’s okay bro, you do you man, you do you. Laters.”

But Chad was not reassured by Virgin’s words. It only made him more anxious and paranoid.

“How is this possible?”, he thought. “No, he’s way too calm and forgiving. Almost as if….as if…he’s plotting something big.”

“He’s gonna get me….oh god, he’s gonna get me…payback for everything I’ve done to him….oh god, no…”

The Imperialist West has much to fear from China, because they themselves are well aware of what they have done, to China, to the rest of the developing world. How could they not worry that China will turn out to be a conqueror, a slaver, a destroyer of civilisations, as they themselves used to be (and still are)?

No amount of good faith, isolation and passiveness on China’s part will convince them that China is simply not like them. A thief will always live in fear of being burgled, a bully in fear of being bullied.

In November of 2021, shortly after I turned 67, my husband and I went for a vacation in Maui. I was still working, doing consulting on a big project and wanted a break before things got really intense.

We went snorkeling in the morning, but it was a bit windy so we didn’t stay long. My husband wanted to go boogie boarding, so we stopped at another beach we liked. I wasn’t going to go in but decided I should do a few. We’d been boogie boarding for 30 years so I should have known what I was doing. I walked out and the first wave looked good. As I jumped on it, I realized it was rolling down but I’d already committed. I hit my head on the bottom and felt like a lightning bolt went through me. Once I got back to the top of the water I tried to put my hands down to push myself up and realized I couldn’t move my arms. Luckily, some first responders (who happened to live in the same province as me in Canada) were at the beach and saw what happened. They came and pulled me out and had me covered up with an umbrella until the ambulance got there. I had no movement in my arms and legs although I could move my fingers and toes slightly. Ten days later I was airlifted back to BC and a week after that had surgery to fuse my neck. I spent a total of 4 months in hospital, 3 months of it in our regional rehabilitation hospital.

I am lucky enough that I got most of my movement back and am slightly impaired on my right side. When I was in the hospital there were many others who weren’t so lucky.

I’m now at the point that I can travel again and I’m trying to make the most of my life as I come to my 70th birthday.

Don’t ever be convinced to do something that you are uncomfortable about

I’m an American who lived in China for 16 years. I basically grew up there, went to school there, worked there and even got married there (though it wasn’t to a Chinese).

I’ve lived all over the country and have had interactions with people from various ethnicities, socio-economic backgrounds, religions and in different areas of China.

There is no possible way for me to sum up what I think of “Chinese” people or the country itself, except that I feel it’s been downplayed as to how diverse it really is. In fact, I hate it when other foreigners say something is ‘typically Chinese’ or generalize…because they are such a diverse country. And sometimes I feel that Chinese nationals don’t even know or appreciate how genuinely diverse their country is.

Now that I’m back in the US, it’s very hard to explain to people what China is actually like or answer their many questions about life there. About the only things I can say that are general is: 1) There are indeed a lot of people; 2) Computer stuff is cheap; 3) Eating out is cheap; 4) Public transport is extremely cheap and very efficient.

Another observation I’ve had is despite all of its diversity and it’s huge population, somehow the government/businesses have managed to really streamline things for the most part. Just working in a Chinese company, my concepts of how to deal with a large volume of applications, paperwork and workload are much different than a lot of my peers here in the US. So when I did come back and start working for US companies, sometimes my managers would be shocked at how quickly I got so much done. Like they didn’t even understand it. Not to put them down in anyway. And occasionally I would even get in trouble for doing something differently than others and they would be like, “Why on earth would you do it this way? How did you even think of this?” but that was often before they could see the results.

But on the negative side of that, I had a hard time dealing with all of the personal needs of customers and the tailoring that a lot of Americans require. I’m using to dealing with a huge workload but that’s mostly uniform where people have chosen from a small category of options. I’m not as used to dealing with the incredible personal preferences of a handful of clients who can’t seem to make up their minds. In China, they don’t tend to give you a lot of ‘options’. And people don’t really expect them either. They tend to walk in when they want a service and already know exactly what they want. So it’s a much easier process of facilitating that.

What Would Happen if the US Decided to Not Pay its Debt?

It was a pretty effective strike

The details are trickling in and it does appear that Israel has had 20 damaged F-35s (They aren’t using the word destroyed) but a damaged F35 is as bad as a destroyed one for minimum 12–18 weeks

The Radar site is definitely destroyed

It’s why Israel has postponed their attack on Iran

However the attack will happen

Mostly they will use Drones and they will hit Iranian Top Military and Intelligence Brass with US Intelligence and surveillance capabilities

Lies aren’t as easily accepted without some ground truth. Sometimes, they are just partial truths taken to extremes, often times out of ignorance and good faith. This is something that all Chinese people eventually realize after living in China for long enough; some people are better at working with partial pictures than others.

‘I don’t think it can get any harder’: reality check for China’s travel industry
Stark contract between an optimistic picture painted by China’s travel data and consumers who are reluctant to spend amid broader economic anxieties.

There was a great thread by Glenn Luk as usual, responding to this article. But more on that, there was a great supplementary thread by David Fishman, who succinctly highlights the issue of interpreting China by using three anecdotes he scraped together:

In elite control societies, what often goes dismissed are the experiences of the common person. This is especially true of the US where “middle class” has represented the top 10% of US society for decades— cue the many complaints of “middle class” houses in Hollywood films that are nothing short of multi-million dollar McMansions. The same can be said about the more liberal Chinese takes on China. I for one know the mood among the high performers of academia China. It is not the greatest, though I must say, I have been quite uncomfortable being in so many BMW SUVs (ostentatious wealth not really my style).

The reason why I do not share in these dour takes on China is because of my paternal family and the fortunes of people from back from the village. I know where those family members come from, what kind of temperament they have, and especially what they have nowadays. Back in 1998, we rode in a cheap knockoff sedan sporting a false police siren (to speed on country roads), driving over half paved, half dirt roads just to get to our T5 city. Ever since, I have watched them get far wealthier. Today my elder cousin does better than me; he owns 3 properties in a T1 city and rents two of them out for a very pretty penny, while I struggle as someone in the top 5% of the US to actually buy a cheap house ($850k) in the place I grew up. The difference between my cousin that is younger by a year and my other cousin who is graduating from undergrad this year is night and day; the former has moved to the US and lives a great life but had to be top of her class to do so, while the latter is pretty much the definition of academic mediocrity. Even so, her mentality bears all the hallmarks of polite urbanite (while I remember the former offering me a beer back when we were 13, as no one cared out in the sticks). That former cousin grew up in that T5 city, the latter cousin is basically a T1 city girl; both, it seems, can do quite well for themselves despite the wide gulf in effort. Hence, people who tell me that China is terrible for everyone but the elites are only going to get the stinkeye from me— it’s like they don’t even care that my family exists.

The pattern I’ve seen in a lot of the anti-China reporting is that they pay attention to only the elites. Keep in mind we are only talking about those reports from people who seem like they know what they are talking about, either because they have Chinese names or they actually bother going to China. On the surface, this is a remarkable step up from the typical “China expert” who knows no Chinese and hasn’t ever visited. Unfortunately this step up seems to be what is selling authenticity today, when in fact it is just clearing a minimum threshold of “not 100% fantasy.”

I have said this time and time again, even all the way back to random comments in 2015 or so: China is insanely complex. Its size should humble all who engage. When I hear about a foreigner who has stayed for 15–20+ years in China, I will usually go “wow, you must have a lot of insight!” But make no mistake, that’s not me calling them a China expert, that is me expecting that they have some very narrow experiences that strike very deep and true, and that I will be able to glean some insights on a tiny sliver of China through them. Most people of that degree of stay in China are likewise humble and know that we all are just in the business of exchanging very narrow and specific slivers of China. To those observing, particularly neophytes to the experience that is China, this subtext may go unnoticed.

David Fishman is a valuable resource. He has tons of stories from people he can reach on the streets. But I know better than to expect him to really know Chinese governance; he has little in the way of penetration into the government track lifestyle. He is also white, which means he won’t have the perspective of someone who can blend into the streets and watch China the way a Chinese person can. There are always limitations to one’s China experience, which is why we all fan out in our information gathering through guanxi (connections).

Yes, there are a lot of blatant lies about China. But just because they exist, don’t get complacent when someone comes by with experience or a Chinese name and starts generalizing. Specificity is the name of the game; pity that most Chinese people don’t feel safe sharing specifics. This is often the reason why you have to hit the streets and make your own guanxi. First, build trust, then get specifics. You never know when someone is withholding information from strangers but not their guanxi network.

But just to highlight, driving back to that T5 city from the T1 city took generally 2 hours in the late 90s. It was unwise to do after a rain as the mud would likely have made the roads unmanageable. In the late 00s, that drive went down to 1.5 hours; the road at the outskirts of the T5 city had massive potholes that you could not evade and would require cars to go at most 5 km/h. In the late 10s, I don’t recognize most of the city anymore. I don’t remember seeing any donkeys driving carts anymore, only the standard blue motor trike at the very bottom end. I can barely estimate that the town square that felt so hollow and eerie at night in the 00s (due to all of the empty concrete apartment shells, lack of lights, and echoing) was now a park with big trees and plenty of amenities.

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main qimg 989a8a24150923be71c8d786d3ddf714

Remember, T5 city! Where those pink trees are was generally where a line of stores were, and back in the 00s one of those stores sold crappy CRT TVs. One of them played Shrek in Chinese dub, which captivated some 20-ish children as onlookers. I joined them as I was bored then. Everything now is unrecognizable.

Anecdotes aren’t that powerful, but they can serve as smell tests for the kind of China headlines that pander to American audiences. The more you have your own experiences to look back on, the more you too can be immunized to bold but bad China takes. Because the sad reality is, it is just too easy to lie about China, and even the truths are not that good either!

11 Harsh Realities of Life for a 60 year old retired man.

The truth: China desperately want to become friend with US, however, US sees China as a threat and want to see China lose.

Lived in both countries, what I’ve observed is in China, everyone (including main stream media like CCTV) is talking about US being the best country:

  • the higher level of democracy
  • the innovation
  • hollywood movies, hot actors / actress
  • advanced technologies, respect for skill and knowlege…
  • the list goes on…

When I actually get here, I’d say some of these high reviews are true, but overall it’s probably overrated.

Then when I start to read news on CNN, Fox, NY Times, I see lots of negative news about China.

  • food imported from China are poisons
  • Chinese constantly steal US intellectual property
  • in China everything is about building connections, just having the skills will fail you in China
  • Chinese government tortures minority
  • China ‘bully’ neighbouring countries.
  • … and the list goes on

Non of these are true – I’m not saying China is a perfect country, it’s far from perfect, but the real issue in China was never cared and covered by western media. All these news is designed to make people hate China.

Oven Swiss Steak

37abf5c5efc0ac80ef3309af40383e51
37abf5c5efc0ac80ef3309af40383e51

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (1 1/2 pound) beef round steak, cut 3/4 inch thick
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons shortening
  • 1 (16 ounce) can tomatoes, cut up
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped celery
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped carrot
  • 1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Instructions

  1. Cut meat into 6 serving-size portions.
  2. Combine flour and salt; with meat mallet, pound 2 tablespoons of the mixture into meat on both sides. Brown meat on both sides in hot shortening.
  3. Transfer meat to a 12 x 7 inch baking dish.
  4. Blend remaining 2 tablespoons flour mixture into pan drippings.
  5. Stir in undrained tomatoes, celery, carrot and Worcestershire sauce. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly; pour over meat.
  6. Bake steak, covered, at 350 degrees F for about 1 hour or until meat is tender.

China’s first photonic chip pilot line opened in Wuxi leading the industry to take off

On September 25, at the 2024 Integrated Circuit (Wuxi) Innovation and Development Conference, the first photonic chip pilot line in China built by the Wuxi Photonic Chip Research Institute of Shanghai Jiao Tong University was officially put into use. This marks that photonic chips have officially entered the fast lane of industrialization, which will break through the limitations of computing paradigms and bring new imagination space for large-scale intelligent computing. A glorious era for photons is about to begin.

Photonic chips are the core of the new generation of information technology. They can meet the technical needs of transmission, computing, storage, and display in the fields of artificial intelligence, Internet of Things, cloud computing, biomedicine, etc. in the new round of scientific and technological revolution. They have become a new driving force for economic growth and an industrial highland for global competition.

The pilot platform has a total area of ​​17,000 square meters, integrating scientific research, production and services. It has complete supporting facilities and is equipped with more than 100 world-class CMOS process equipment, covering the full closed-loop process of thin-film lithium niobate photonic chips from lithography, thin film deposition, etching, wet process, cutting, measurement to packaging.

The platform also takes into account other material systems such as silicon and silicon nitride, builds N special process platforms, and forms a leading “1+N” advanced photonic device innovation platform. It can not only provide full-process technical services for universities, research institutes, and innovative enterprises, but also incubate photonic industry projects, efficiently link with industrial funds, open up the complete chain from product research and development to marketization, and accelerate the commercialization of scientific and technological achievements.

The pilot platform will not only accelerate the flywheel effect of technology iteration, promote the continuous optimization of process flow and the improvement of product innovation capabilities, but will also touch the technological frontier at an unprecedented speed, solve the long-standing structural contradictions between the innovation chain and the industrial chain, and ultimately achieve breaking up the obstacles in technology and industry.

The successful completion of the photonic chip pilot line is a vivid epitome of the cooperation between the university and the local government to achieve industrial breakthrough.

In 2021, City of Binhu introduced Shanghai Jiaotong University to establish the Shanghai Jiaotong University Wuxi Photonic Chip Research Institute project. The pilot line officially started construction in December 2022, the structure was capped in October 2023, and the first batch of equipment entered the site in January 2024. After intensive equipment debugging, it was officially put into use in September 2024. This landmark of the lake bay has achieved a leap from idea to physical implementation in an almost unrivaled manner. The physical structure was built according to the “Green Building Three Star” standard, and achieved key features such as anti-micro-vibration, constant temperature and humidity, and ultra-cleanliness to provides first-class guarantee for the R&D and production of photonic chips.

Now, walking into the nearly 6,000 square meters of high-grade micro-nano processing clean room of the photonic chip pilot line, people can see equipment neatly arranged, and technicians in clean clothes skillfully operating various equipment and observing the operating conditions of various product parameters.

The 9-meter-high first floor is divided into three floors, with the main equipment on the middle floor. In addition to the pipelines for supplying gas and chemicals, the invisible upper and lower mezzanines are also equipped with fresh air systems to transport clean air and maintain positive pressure in the room, which is then exhausted to the outside through the ventilation holes, so that the cleanliness level of the workshop reaches the 100, 1,000, and 10,000-level standards.

The world-class hardware, the leading domestic precision equipment, and the complete closed-loop control of the process are the three core elements supporting the industrialization of photonic chips. This pilot line is in line with the top-level planning and has reached international standards. After the pilot line is officially put into use, the annual production capacity is expected to reach 10,000 wafers. In the first quarter of 2025, the PDK will be officially released, and external wafer flow services will be provided.

Currently, the whole world is committed to solving the iteration problem caused by the lack of computing resources. Optical quantum computing is not only backward compatible with related technologies, but its theory and framework also enable exponential computing power that is endless. However, due to the lack of matching hardware systems and the immature industrial chain for landing products, optical computing and quantum computing cannot be commercialized. Currently, the world is starting from the same starting line, which provides China with an opportunity to surpass in technology.

The institute will focus on 6/8-inch thin-film lithium niobate wafers and thin-film lithium niobate modulators to overcome the engineering and technical challenges faced by the industrialization of thin-film lithium niobate photonic chips, develop wafer-level chip mass production processes, and achieve large-scale mass production of thin-film lithium niobate photonic chips to meet the high computing power needs of artificial intelligence development.

The Wuxi Photonic Chip Research Institute of Shanghai Jiao Tong University will continue to be a leader in new-quality productivity, continue to explore cutting-edge technologies in quantum science and technology and common key technologies, and rely on the photonic chip pilot line to carry out a three-in-one strategic layout of “platform + incubation + fund”. Focusing on new-generation information technologies such as core, light, intelligence, and computing, it will carry out scientific and technological achievement transformation and incubation and investment in entrepreneurship, explore new paradigms for the incubation of hard technology innovation, and help Binhu District and even Wuxi form a world-class photonic innovation ecosystem with clustered and large-scale development.

De-Dollarization: China Squeezes USD Debt By Guaranteeing RMB Bonds In The Global Markets

About a month ago, there was a noise complaint at the neighbor of my brother’s home.

The police arrived. My brother went over because his 11 year old son was there and wanted to ensure his son was okay. The police arrested my brother, charged him with resisting arrest, assault on an officer, aggravated battery on an officer.

These charges carry a two to twenty year prison sentence.

When I asked my brother what happened, he told me that the charges were made up. He asked about his son, the officers (3 of them) engaged him and decided to put him in the squad car. He never touched anyone. He never resisted. Because of the charges, he has no bail, and the bond hearing was set for a month out.

I asked, “Were the officer’s bodycams on?” He replied, “No.” They said all their cams were off.

I thought to myself. “Oh shit.” Then I replied, “Okay, sit tight, I’ll get you a lawyer.”

But to be honest…without any camera footage, my brother was cooked.

Now. I love my brother, and I know his character. I know there was no way he attacked three police officers. To be honest, if he did, they’d just shoot him. He’s a big black guy who spends a lot of time at the gym. No one would have challenged his death.

But, that’s not who he is. However…SOMETHING must have happened, right? It couldn’t be that he just walked up, the police then put him in the car and charged him. That’s not real.

2 to 20 years in prison. Three officers are saying he attacked them. Aggravated Battery on a police officer. All of this was a month ago…labor day weekend. No video evidence, so it’s their word and his. He’s so fucking cooked.

But wait. Remember the part where I said my brother walked over to his neighbor’s house?

The neighbor’s ring door camera activated, and his lawyer has not one…but three videos from ring cameras and security cameras covering the entire event.

You know what actually happened? Well, I’ll say it this way. As soon as the lawyer told the prosecution that they had camera footage from the ring camera, the prosecution dropped the assault and aggravated battery charge immediately. They downgraded the resisting arrest to a misdemeanor and gave my brother a 50,000 bond, which we immediately posted. They also added another charge (a misdemeanor), and handed the entire case from the felony prosecution to the misdemeanor prosecution who wanted to settle. My brother’s lawyer said…”No.” We want this fast tracked to trial. You’ve only seen one video. I have two more. The footage shows my brother walking up to the officers, them having a very normal conversation, and when my brother asked for his son, the officer told him “No.” My brother continued to ask, and the officer put him in cuffs and put him in the car for “protection of the officers.” That was it. No one even raised their voices.

Now. Because this is still in flight, and my brother has plans to sue for wrongful arrest or something…which he’ll lose, I won’t say which department this is, but will post all the details after the case and suite are done.

But here is the thing. Do you know what happened to the three police officers who made up the assault and aggravated battery on a police officer charges with the up to 20 year prison sentence?

Nothing.

Do you know what would have happened to my brother if those ring cameras didn’t kick in? I’m guessing he’d get about 7 years. What’s your guess?

That’s the definition of a police state. They can just make something up to throw you in prison…and in the 1 in a 1000 chance you are able to prove your innocence, nothing happens.

I still nearly tear up at the thought of how close he came. He’s a father of 4 who works for Mitsubishi building generators as a supervisor. And he nearly lost his freedom…for what. I yelled at him “You know never to engage with the police. You know better you fool.” All he could say is…”but my son was over there.” 30K for a lawyer (gone). 5K for the 50K bond (gone) all because you approached police.

I’ll update the results when I can. But more than likely…nothing will happen.

I’m pretty sure Grandpa killed my cousin’s abusive ex-husband.

The ex ticked all the psycho boxes: he was physically, sexually, and verbally abusive. When my cousin finally started the divorce proceedings and got a restraining order, the ex repeatedly violated it. He’d make numerous harassing phone calls daily, show up at her workplace, and was arrested a couple times for trying to force his way into her house. Somehow he’d always make bail and within 24 hours or so be right back at it.

Shortly after the divorce was finalized and she got 100% custody of their son, the psycho broke into her home while she was at work and trashed the house. He left voicemails threatening to kill her. My cousin came and stayed with us for awhile so she could make arrangements to move and would not be home alone.

One day the calls stopped. She stopped seeing his truck around town. My cousin was still scared, it was not like him to just stop, and she figured he had gotten arrested, and would soon be out and back at it again. She said words to that effect one morning at breakfast. There sat Grandpa, reading the paper, with a cup of coffee and a Pall Mall Red. Without looking up he just said, “He won’t bother you again.”

And he didn’t. Going on twenty years and no one has seen or heard of the psycho ex. Grandpa knew something we didn’t, but he died in ’05 so he ain’t telling.

EDIT: to address some of the comments without posting repetitively, I suspect Grandpa got rid of the ex. I do not know if her ex is alive or dead. I don’t know for sure what, if anything Grandpa had to do with it. All I can say for sure is he said the ex wouldn’t bother her again and he hasn’t. Wouldn’t put it past the old man to have done his own problem solving though.

Grand Funk Legend Died & Saw the Afterlife – Mark Farner Tells All!

There are several major lies that are all equally current:

  • China is planning to invade Taiwan.
  • China is oppressing the Uyghurs in Xinjiang (genocide, forced labor, concentration camps, etc.).
  • China is oppressing the Chinese people in general (Xi Jinping is a dictator).
  • China’s economy is a disaster (property market, youth unemployment, demographics, etc.).
  • China can’t innovate; it can only steal IP.
  • China is debt-trapping African countries.

Once, when I was on duty in the Emergency Department during my residency training on a 36-hour shift, I noticed something. Something strange, something that was not normal.

There was this one kid, around 10 years old. I saw him wandering around the emergency department all day long. And just like that, it was midnight. I had time to reflect on the events of that night. That same kid was standing outside. So, I decided to find out what was happening to that boy, why was he wandering around the emergency room all day long by himself?

So when I approached him and asked him if I could help him I saw that he was really upset. After that he tried to avoid my questions but I insisted to find out what was going on with him, he asked if we can talk in a private place.

I took him into an office and he lifted his shirt and showed me a scar on his chest that was obviously from a previous heart surgery.

He confessed that he was looking for the doctor who had performed the surgery on him when he was a baby and asked where to find them.

Of course, I knew the surgeon who had operated on the child. But I insisted on knowing why he had been sitting in the emergency room all day looking for that surgeon.

Then I found out that the surgeon in question not only treated the kid for free, but also paid for all the costs of his surgery (since he didn’t have any kind of insurance) and also visited his home every two months after the surgery, paid his family’s rent, got them food and clothes (note this was years ago).

But for the last one and a half years the surgeon was not seen in the children’s house, and his mother did not even have money to pay the rent. That is why he was searching for him.

Sadly, the kid didn’t know that the surgeon had died a year and a half earlier, and he started crying when I told him.

Later that day I told some of my cardiac surgery friends about the incident. I found out that for the past year and a half since the cardiac surgeon’s death, many people have been coming to the hospital regularly asking where he was! Because no one apparently knew that not only did he pay for their surgeries (for those who were unable to pay), but he also made it his mission to help those people’s entire families. And even his wife and children did not know he did that.

What an incredible, inspiring and fascinating person he was.

He was Brigadier-General Dr. Muhammad Fayez in the Royal Medical Services of the Jordanian Armed Forces.

He was a cardiac surgery consultant and head of the cardiac surgery department when he died of a heart attack at the age of 52.

His typical day started at 8:00am and ended at 11:00pm. He was a talented, dedicated, humble and decent man who preferred to work behind the scenes. Didn’t want fame or fortune. A true human being.

UPDATE – Wife Has Known For 8 YEARS That Her Best Friend’s Husband Punched My Son And NEVER Told Me!

Cosmic Catastrophe: A Space Adventure Gone Awry

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

Kayla Flemming

The hum of the spaceship’s engines filled the air as Captain Jackson surveyed the vast expanse of space stretching out before them. They were on a routine mission to explore the far reaches of the Galaxy, charting new star systems and collecting valuable data for the Intergalactic Alliance.But as they ventured further into uncharted territory, a sense of unease settled over the crew. There was something off about this sector of space – a feeling of foreboding that sent shivers down their spines.As they pressed on, their fears were realized when a sudden jolt rocked the ship, sending alarms blaring and lights flashing. Emergency protocols were initiated as the crew scrambled to assess the damage.”What happened?” Captain Jackson barked, his voice tense with urgency.”It looks like we hit some sort of anomaly,” replied Lieutenant Ramirez, her fingers flying across the control panel as she attempted to regain control of the ship.But their efforts were in vain as another jolt shook the vessel, this time more violently than before. Panic gripped the crew as they realized they were hurtling towards a nearby planet, their trajectory set on a collision course that spelled certain doom. 

With time running out, Captain Jackson made a split-second decision – they would attempt a risky maneuver to evade the planet’s gravitational pull and regain control of the ship.

 

“Brace yourselves!” he shouted, his hands gripping the controls with steely determination.

 

As the ship plunged towards the planet’s surface, the crew held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. But just when it seemed all hope was lost, Captain Jackson’s daring maneuver paid off, and the ship veered away from the planet at the last possible moment.

 

Cheers erupted throughout the cockpit as the crew celebrated their narrow escape from disaster. But their relief was short-lived as they realized they were now adrift in the void of space, their navigation systems fried and their chances of survival dwindling by the second.

 

As they frantically searched for a way to repair the ship and plot a course home, Captain Jackson couldn’t help but wonder what other dangers lurked in the darkness of space, waiting to test their courage and resolve.

 

Despite the chaos that ensued, the crew of the spaceship refused to let fear dictate their actions. With determination in their hearts and a spirit of camaraderie that bound them together, they set out to explore the planet they had narrowly avoided crashing into. As they descended through the atmosphere, they were greeted by a breathtaking landscape unlike anything they had ever seen before – towering mountains, shimmering lakes, and lush forests stretching out to the horizon.

 

Eager to uncover the secrets of this alien world, the crew donned their spacesuits and ventured out onto the surface, their eyes wide with wonder as they took in the sights and sounds of this new frontier.

 

But their sense of adventure soon turned to apprehension as they encountered strange and wondrous creatures lurking in the shadows – creatures with scales as hard as steel, eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light, and voices that echoed through the caverns like whispers from the void.

 

Undeterred, the crew pressed on, their curiosity driving them ever forward in their quest for knowledge and discovery. And though they faced countless challenges and obstacles along the way, their indomitable spirit carried them through, guiding them on a journey of exploration that would change their lives forever.

 

As they prepared to leave the planet behind and return to the safety of their ship, Captain Jackson couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the adventure they had shared together. For in the face of adversity, they had found strength in each other, forging bonds that would withstand the test of time.

 

Amidst the chaos and excitement of their unplanned detour, the crew found moments of levity that brought much-needed relief from the tension of their predicament.

 

From Lieutenant Ramirez’s failed attempts at fixing the ship’s malfunctioning systems to Ensign Johnson’s comical mishaps during their explorations on the planet’s surface, there was never a dull moment aboard the spaceship.

 

Even Captain Jackson, typically stoic and reserved, couldn’t help but crack a smile as he watched his crew stumble their way through one misadventure after another. But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was a sense of camaraderie that bound them together, a shared sense of purpose that gave them the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

 

And as they finally set course for home, their ship repaired and their ship repaired and their spirits buoyed by the memories of their cosmic escapades, they knew that no matter what trials awaited them in the vast expanse of space, they would face them together, united in their quest for adventure and discovery.

 

The journey back to their home base was filled with moments of reflection and gratitude. Each member of the crew took the time to appreciate the bonds they had formed and the experiences they had shared during their time in the far reaches of space.

 

Lieutenant Ramirez, with her quick with and unwavering determination, became the heart and soul of the crew, guiding them through even the most challenging of situations with her calm demeanor and steady hand.

 

Ensign Johnson, despite his tendency to stumble into trouble, proved himself to be a valuable asset to the team, his ingenuity and resourcefulness saving them on more than one occasion.

 

And Captain Jackson, with his leadership and courage, inspired his crew to rise above their fears and doubts, leading them through adversity with unwavering resolve. As they neared their home base, a sense of anticipation filled the air. Though their journey had been fraught with danger and uncertainty, they had emerged stronger and more united than ever before.

 

And as they docked their ship and stepped onto solid ground once more, they knew that their adventure was far from over. For as long as there were stars in the sky and unexplored corners of the universe to discover, they would continue to journey forth, together, in search of the next great adventure that awaited them in the cosmos.

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When I was eleven years old, a friend drowned while swimming alone at a local lake. He was alone because I had persuaded a mutual friend who was supposed to go with him, instead, to come visit me at my house, because I was grounded from leaving the house, but I could have a friend come over.

Denny’s was the first funeral I remember attending, and I walked into the funeral home alone. I was terrified and overcome with remorse and shame. Not quite knowing what to do, I slipped in the back and sat in the first chair I saw with no one near it.

Almost immediately, Denny’s mother came over and sat next to me. She said, “This is not your fault. You did not kill Denny. Tragic accidents happen all the time, sweetheart. Don’t carry this through your life. If you do, that will be a tragic accident too. When you leave today, leave any guilt you might feel right here so that we can bury it as well.

Then she hugged me while I cried. I did exactly as she said. And I have never forgotten the witness of her grace.

A MATTER OF SURVIVAL

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story about a character who wakes up in space. view prompt

Charles Corkery

A MATTER OF SURVIVAL The Shuttle He opened his eyes and knew, immediately, that something was amiss; no headache, no blurred vision, no sluggishness of his central nervous system, no disorientation of any kind. With growing trepidation, he turned to his right and, swallowing his anxiety, gazed at his digital, countdown screen: frozen at 9 years, 5 months, 3 weeks, 6 days and 19 hours. He had been in cryosleep for just 5 hours!What the f**k!Glen Thomas, Commander of Deep Space Shuttle, Commodore V11, noted for his coolness under pressure, began to perspire and panic at the same time. Sitting up, dressed only in khaki briefs and t-shirt, he looked across at the other two cryogenic sleeping pods alongside him and saw the red, illuminated screens of his colleagues ticking down the seconds and minutes in perfect harmony, unlike his own.Flight Engineers, Helen Jones and Matt Weitz slept peacefully inside their transparent cocoons, their body temperatures maintained at a perfect 32 degrees C, in a state of natural hibernation, heart beats slowed, hormones and composition of blood, breathing, cell replication and brain activity all altered for the next nine and a half years, when they would awaken as Commodore V11 reentered Earth’s atmosphere- as he, too, was meant to do. For some reason, his pod had malfunctioned! 

As the man in charge of this mission, Glen had an intimate knowledge of his ship and understood that, once set, the timing device of a stasis pod could not be altered.

 

Nevertheless, heart thumping, he eased himself from the pod zone to the bridge of the craft, floating weightlessly, using his hands to push off bulkheads, hatches and overheads to reach the command centre of the shuttle where all typed modules relating to the workings of the ship were stored.

 

Breathing deeply, trying desperately to calm himself, he pulled down the tome that related directly to the cryogenic chambers and began to read. Within a few minutes, his worst fears were confirmed; the operational clock, once triggered, could not, under any circumstances, be recalibrated. For him, the ability to not age for the next nine and a half years was no longer an option.

 

Okay, okay. Stay calm. That’s not the end of the world, he told himself. Helen and Matt would get a shock when they snapped out of hibernation to find their commander almost a decade older than they remembered, sure. And life for him would be pretty damn unbearable in the interim but he could do it; would do it. Hell, he’d be a hero when they got back; maybe even secure a book deal.

 

Food! Jeez, he’d forgotten about how much sustenance he was going to need to make it through. These shuttles were not overstocked with nutritional products as the majority of travel time was spent in natural hibernation and space food, whether dehydrated, irradiated, freeze dried or thermo- stabilised, still added hugely to fuel costs for every pound stored on board. Time to calculate.

 

An hour later, having entered the nutritional info of every single item of food he had located in the shuttle into the command and data subsystem, including Helen’s specially packaged must haves, Cheetos, and Matt’s, similarly wrapped, Hershey Kisses, and allowing for a ration of 0.58 kilograms per day, he realised, heart plunging, that he had only enough fluids and solids to sustain life for just twelve months!

 

A year later, an emaciated, stinking, full bearded commander entered the pod zone for the first time in weeks. Initially, and for several months, he had checked on his colleagues several times per day but, as time had passed, he had limited himself to a once a week visit, the effort involved just too much for his weakened body. This time though, he had another reason for entering this part of the ship: the knowledge that, within the temperature controlled systems lay several litres of much needed water and he was going to figure out how to drain it. With all food having been consumed, although estimates were varied, it was believed that man could extend one’s life by up to two months living on water alone and there was no reason to maintain the perfect 32 degrees C that his hibernating colleagues were dwelling in.

 

The year had been the toughest of this man’s life. Having nothing to look at except the darkness of deep space that remained unchanged constantly outside the window of the bridge, nobody to talk to except himself, he had, slowly, drifted into semi-insanity. Unable to wash, shave or brush his teeth, with every drop of moisture being so precious, he had, knowingly, allowed himself to become a savage. Wild thoughts entered his mind and he would spend endless, comatose hours debating the rights and wrongs of each. Many, many times, he had considered cutting the power to his colleagues’ cryopods. If he had to suffer so, then why not them, too?

 

He had even thought about opening the pod of Matt Weitz and, while he was still disoriented, pulling him from his sleeping chamber and taking his place; sure that lifting the lid of the pod would not affect the countdown clock. But, always, the still rational part of his brain would win through and talk him out of this murderous act.

 

Many, many times, he had told himself that he should accept his fate, climb down into the sealed exit hatch bay and eject himself out into the void and, twice, had entered this part of the ship, fully intending to do the honourable thing. But, each time, something, whether an inbuilt survival instinct or a fatal optimism, prevented him from carrying through with his plan. He knew that he only had enough food and water to sustain him for twelve months; that death was inevitable. Yet, he could not quit; had to claw on to life, hoping, believing that a miracle might occur. His experience in space had confirmed him in his atheistic outlook and he did not, for one minute, give any credence to the existence of a God but, still, he found himself repeating the mantras that had been drilled into him as a child, brought up in a Christian household.

 

Now, as he drained the water from the tubing that surrounded all three pods, the brownish, foul smelling water seeping into the container he had brought here for this purpose, he looked, once again, at his two colleagues, sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the torment that he was going through and, against his better impulses, angry and envious thoughts flooded his brain. Why did his pod have to be the one that failed?

 

***

 

Breaking News

 

“We go now to Independence Square, NASA HQ, where NASA Administrator, Bob Nelson, is waiting to talk to us with the latest on the ill fated shuttle. Bob, thanks for coming on. What can you tell us?”

 

“I can now confirm, Mary, that our inquiry has shown, beyond any doubt, that the oxygen supply for the craft had defaulted and was responsible for the demise of our three brave astronauts”.

 

“Did they suffer, Bob?”

 

“No. All three were in hibernation, completely unaware of the system breakdown. They would all have died peacefully and painlessly in their sleep”.

 

“What about their families?”

 

“Well, none of our deep space astronauts are actually married, have children or are in relationships, Mary. It’s not something that is common knowledge but, I’m sure you’ll understand, they are away from home for a very long time. In this case, for example, Commodore V11 was on a twenty year voyage to Pluto and, while the cryogenic sleeping pods ensure that the occupants of the shuttle age only a year or two, the same would not apply to any relatives left on Earth. For that reason, we only train men and women who are prepared to forego a family life, at least until their later years”.

 

“Well, thanks for sharing that, Bob. Makes me wonder why anybody would want to put themselves through that though”.

 

“Mary, these are a very special breed of human; pioneers, if you like. They undertake only one deep space mission in their careers and they are expanding boundaries for the human race and, of course, they get extremely well compensated for it”.

 

If they survive, Bob. If they survive”.

 

***

 

Human Health and Performance (HH+P) Medical and Clinical Unit Secure Ward, Johnson Space Center

 

“Okay, doc, let me have it”.

 

“Well, there’s no way to sugar coat this, Bob. Deep space, deep psychosis. It’s that simple”.

 

“Is he coherent?”

 

“Depends on what you mean by coherent. I can understand what he’s saying but that doesn’t mean he’s talking a whole lot of sense. He’s cognisant of his actions and, in many ways, as repulsive as they were, he was simply reverting to the human’s inbuilt instinct for survival. Throughout history, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of similar happenings where cannibalism has been a last resort. That plane crash in the Andes, for example. If they hadn’t made that choice to eat their former comrades, those guys would never have survived…”

 

“Difference is, doc, their comrades were already dead. Commander Glen Thomas chose to eat his living colleagues. Big distinction!”

 

“So what now, Bob? That’s the fourth time this has happened in recent years.”

 

“Well, we can never let this get out. It would decimate our entire deep space program budgets. So you know what to do, doc. Same as before. Just make it painless for the poor sap”.

*** 

The Chinese has been targeted since the mid 1800 when the first batch of Chinese went to the US to open up the East West railway lines. They were badly discriminated and I am sure many died. But in those days it is not illegal to kill a Chinese! Of course Anglo Saxon wants the world to forget everything from African slavery to Red Indians culling to Chinese exclusion act now that their victims are all dead and gone!

But so much to western human rights hypocrisy! We will always remember and we will remind you forever! Has anything change? No the white supremacy idea still exists and today Wall Street Journal or Economist still do racism with profit! The western media slur and demonised and get rewarded by the US government with 1.6 billion funding.

it is such a terrible thing to do to use monies instead of helping their 2.5 million homeless on incentives to lie and fabricate on China and the Chinese people. It is Deja Vu all over again. It is Chinese excision act 2025! But this time the world is on the Chinese side. Sure they are dogs and slaves like UK, Australia, Philippines! But there will always be people who stays on the wrong side of history.

I think a lot of it is because China sees little reason to support western countires who are almost universally taking antagonistic attitudes towards China. And what has China done. Basically it has just done better than the west. Funny thing is this is not new. It is repeated time and time again in history. Back in the 19th century the European invasions of China were brought about because the Western world wanted Chinese goods, but there was little that the Chinese wanted from the west, and so the British becaome the biggest drug cartel in the world, effectively forcing opium on the Chinese the same way drug dealers do it today, and then selling to those people. The Chinese government was too weak to do much against it, but at least were able to prevent the west from conquoring China (unlike Inida). Also during the 19th century, Chinese teams working on the American railroads were able to accomplish tasks other teams could not accomplish and were always more productive. For thier good work they were effectively presecuted by vigilanties. This is something that has happened to the Chinese diaspora throughout history. So similar to what has constantly happened to the Jews.

In part because the west is trying to isolate China. and doing western leadership constantly attempts to destroy China, China appears to feel that it is better to build relationships with the 90% that make up the rest of the world, and it has an added benefit in that doing this is economically better given that products and goods from those countries are less expensive than western countries. At the same time it gives Chinese the opportunity to now produce final products and sell them under Chinese brands, so the profit it much greater, and the dependence on the west is greatly reduced. These countries have proven to be a lot more appreciative of the Chinese, and why not. The Chinese products are so much cheaper than the western products, the Chinese are not buying lots of agricultural products from them, Chinese companies are also selling farm equipment at a fraction of the cost of the west to them so that they can be increase production, building factories in the countries (something the west never did to any extent), and significantly helping them build much better infrastructure in the countries. It is a big win for China, and a big win for those countries that struggled so long under Western imperialism and colonialsim and then Western neo-colonialism.

People talk about how China is so hated by the international community, but that is not the international community but the collective west.

China is learning that the doublespeak “International” community (the reality the collective west) is never going to be a friend to China, maybe because the Chinese are not white and have more power. It is much better to get the rest of the world to be with you, and isolate the west so that they can no longer do you any harm. Russia is learning the same lesson because the white people of the west also consider them untermensch. All the better for China.

And to make matters worse for the west the tactic they used in the 19th century will not work in the 21st century, that of forcing China to turn around, bend over and pull down its pants. As proof of this just look how dangerous is will be for the US Navy to operate within well over 1000km of China. This is proven by articles that admit the the F35 does not have enough range.

https://theaviationgeekclub.com/hasc-report-finds-that-f-35c-lacks-the-range-to-strike-enemy-targets/

China is now a regional hegemon. Its military can stop dead any attempts to intimidate China. They US is fuming. Nothing it does or can do against China works.

King of the Hill – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

Western imperialism is closely linked to nationalism, racism, white supremacy, and Eurocentrism (America-centrism).

Should people follow the nationalist incitement of their governments and go to kill each other? No!

So-called patriotism, nationalism and chauvinism have always been the gravediggers of the proletariat.

Don’t forget that beyond these claims, there is communism.

Humanity is facing a series of serious problems, namely an insurmountable economic crisis, continuous wars, xenophobia, the impoverishment of the working class, and the destruction of the earth’s ecology, all of which cannot be solved by nationalism.

If we fall into the trap of nationalism, the entire human race will be destroyed. 200 million people died in endless wars in the 20th century alone.

Only by overthrowing this development model in this society can humanity escape this barbaric dead end. This is the message that the working class, especially the younger generation, wants to send to social movements in other countries.

  • In Japan, protests against the explosion and radiation effects of the Fukushima nuclear power plant have been one after another, and there is growing anger about the impact of the economic crisis.
  • In the United States, there have been a series of strikes by workers to protest against their incredible exploitation.
  • In many other countries, we can cite many examples, such as the Arab Spring, Spain, Greece, Bangladesh, etc., where the working class has been massively fired, unemployed and impoverished, and the pressure of work has been increasing.

The solution to so many problems is not nationalism in collusion with the state, but the Class struggle.

We cannot rely on the brutal burning of stores and production bases belonging to “foreign competitors” or calling for a boycott of foreign competitors’ goods to sanction opponents or overcome the crisis.

We need to unite the camp of the working class and then oppose another class camp with our class camp, rather than a conflict between countries.

Our slogan is still: the working class has no motherland and no borders!

We must inherit this internationalist tradition and break the shackles of nationalism.

The rulers want our young generation to swallow the nationalist pill, that is, the rulers threaten each other every day and launch propaganda for war. But we must firmly put forward our different proposals – Class struggle.

Only in this way can mankind not usher in the Third World War and not perish.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-Mb_mknCk4

There is a scene in the Japanese film ‘Break Through! (パッチギ!, Patchigi!) ’:

The teacher takes out a copy of ‘Chairman Mao’s Quotations’ and introduces it to the students, saying, ‘Chairman Mao of China tells us this…’

Student: ‘Teacher, have you ever been to China?’

Teacher: ‘No, I haven’t, but I know.’

The students don’t give a damn. Then the teacher continues, ‘The world is yours and ours, but in the end it is yours. There is only one way to eliminate war…’

Student: ‘Is it the atomic bomb?’

Teacher: ‘Idiot, war originates from conflict among classes. Eliminating class differences can eliminate war. This is Chairman Mao’s theory.’

40 Brutal Truths I Wish I Knew in My 20s

1. Don’t become good at something you hate.

2. Go to bed and wake up at the exact same time every day.

3. Take care of your body; it’s the only one you have.

4. Stay close to people who want more for you, not from you.

5. Normalize leaving people in the reality they’ve chosen.

6. Being humble is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself.

7. You get tested the most when it’s your time to level up.

8. Improve yourself daily—make that your only addiction.

9. You teach people how to treat you.

10. Admit you’ve walked through the wrong door instead of staying in the wrong room.

11. Waiting for a sign is a sign.

12. Nothing you’ve gone through has made you weaker.

13. Everything wants you when you want nothing.

14. Be willing to be misunderstood for long periods of time to be successful.

15. When things get easy, go hard.

16. Only ask for advice from people who have been where you want to go.

17. The word “No” is a complete sentence.

18. Don’t dim your light to make others comfortable.

19. Have a primary aim for your life.

20. Stop reading books, start studying them.

21. Always assume positive intent.

22. Put your own mask on first before helping others.

23. Look for problems, don’t avoid them.

24. Your new life will cost you your old one.

25. Confidence comes from keeping commitments you make to yourself in private.

26. Dedicate a decade, not a day, to your goals.

27. Treat others the way you want to be treated.

28. Tell people about themselves; acknowledge their strengths.

29. If you keep running into bad people, you may be the problem.

30. Avoid drama and gossip at all costs.

31. Fear gives bad advice.

32. It’s never too late to change.

33. Get rid of all your vices.

34. If you’re addicted to your phone, your life isn’t interesting enough.

35. Take on as much responsibility as you can.

36. Don’t blame anyone else but yourself for your circumstances.

37. Be blissfully dissatisfied with where you’re at in life.

38. Make time for what matters to you.

39. Respect comes from admiration, not fear.

40. Life is a mirror, not a window.

battery
battery


Imagine walking around with a nuclear cell phone! The concept is not that farfetched after Chinese company Betavolt developed a battery the size of a coin that runs on nuclear energy and lasts for an incredible five decades. The technology is also applicable to drones and laptops and the energy density is 10 times more powerful than standard lithium-ion batteries of the same size.


Earth’s first miniaturized atomic energy system

Betavolt’s nuclear battery uses 63 nuclear isotopes positioned within a thumb-sized module. The energy created by the decaying isotopes is converted into electricity, a concept that has existed since the 20th century.

Startup Betavolt has begun pilot testing ahead of mass production for commercial purposes, and future applications include smartphones, drones, and laptops. They’re not the only company looking into similar technology, though. Australia’s PhosEnergy is also in the game after the Department of Defence awarded them $2.3 million to develop extra-long-life batteries.


Betavolt said in a statement:

“If policies permit, atomic energy batteries can allow a mobile phone to never be charged, and drones that can only fly for 15 minutes can fly continuously. Our atomic energy batteries can provide enduring power in diverse scenarios, such as aerospace, AI equipment, medical devices, microprocessors, advanced sensors, small drones, and micro-robots.”


The development of miniaturized nuclear batteries

Betavolt’s initial nuclear design delivers 100 microwatts of power and 3V voltage. It’s only 15x15x5 cubic millimeters big, which is great news for smaller electronic devices like phones. Betavolt’s plan includes developing a battery with 1 watt of power by 2025.

Scientists have been looking into the development of miniature nuclear batteries for many years. The US and the Soviet Union explored nuclear battery technology for use in underwater systems, remote science stations, and spacecraft. In those early days, however, the hardware was bulky and costly.

Aside from China, research institutions in Europe and America are also working on similar projects. The groundbreaking tech may revolutionize the world of electronics by removing the need to charge devices.


Design and safety of miniature nuclear batteries

Betavolt is certain that the design of their battery ensures its safety. It’s built with a layered structure to prevent it catching fire or exploding when exposed to a sudden force. The battery can also operate under a wide range of temperatures, from -60°C to 120°C.

Betavolt created the nuclear battery using nickel-63 as the energy source, which is a radioactive element. Diamond semiconductors are used to convert the energy to electricity. The single-crystal semiconductor is 10 microns thick, and a two-micron-thick nickel-63 sheet is placed between two converters. The energy that’s released as the radioactive element decays is what’s converted into an electrical current to power the device.


What about dangerous radiation?

Obviously, the main concern about nuclear energy is radiation. Betavolt is so confident of their battery’s safety that they claim it can be used to power medical devices inside the body, such as cochlear implants or pacemakers. After the radioactive element has finished decaying, a stable, harmless, non-radioactive isotope of copper is left behind, which has no environmental threat.

Betavolt’s BV100 battery is more secure compared to standard batteries. It does not explode or catch fire when exposed to high temperatures or punctured, making it a safer option.


Minimizing the risk

Betavolt claims the energy density of its miniature battery is 10 times higher than lithium-ion batteries. But they haven’t said much about the risk of beta radiation poisoning. The nickel-63 isotope releases beta radiation and converts it into electricity.

Beta particles are low-mass, high-speed, high-energy electrons that aren’t very dangerous. They can’t travel far as an X-ray or carry as much energy as an alpha particle. Although beta particles have sufficient impact to pierce several millimeters of skin, just a small amount of shielding is sufficient to provide suitable protection.

The biggest risk would come from swallowing one of these batteries, similar to the risk of standard lithium-ion batteries. Betavolt believes the potential of such long-life batteries outweighs the risks, and that their measures to make them safe for use in robotics and autonomous systems will ensure the public is safe.

Betavolt says this development puts the country of China “way ahead” of European and American scientific institutions and enterprises researching similar power sources. Production of the nuclear batteries has entered the pilot stage and mass production is expected to begin in 2025.


This news is brought to you by http://Diary24.com by Kelly L. October 9, 2024

The Iron Dome was not designed to defend against ballistic missiles, and definitely not the hypersonic missiles that Iran possesses.

Israel’s Iron Dome was designed principally against the low velocity short range home made rockets fired by Hamas from Gaza. It is adequate for those purpose given that Hamas does not possessed very many of those rockets. Even for low velocity weaponries such as Drones, Israel’s enemies can overwhelmed the Iron Dome by SWARMING the skies with it.

There are no missile system that exist currently in Western inventories, including those of Israel, that could effectively defend against a barrage of ballistic missiles – Iran had demonstrated that in its recent attacks when MOST of its missiles hit their target in Israel.

ADDITIONALLY, Hezbollah in Southern Lebanon had forced the evacuation of Israeli occupiers from Northern Israel by launching drones and rockets. The Iron Dome was not able to STOP those threats.

Should this war continue to ESCALATE, you will likely see the complete destruction of Israeli infrastructure – water supplies, electricity, port etc – because Israel and its allies just does not have the means to defend against those missiles that Iran and Hezbollah are known to possessed.

Some interesting pictures

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Hawaiian Steak

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Ingredients

  • Individual steaks, 1/2 inch thick or less
  • 1 cup soy sauce
  • 1 cup Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/4 cup vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • Pineapple slices
  • 1 large can mushrooms

Instructions

  1. Punch both sides of each steak well with a fork, then marinate for 24 to 36 hours in a marinade made by combining soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar and sugar.
  2. Simmer steaks on a low fire for 10 minutes in the marinade.
  3. Remove them and place steaks in a 350 degree F oven for 10 to 20 minutes, depending on thickness of meat. Three minutes before removing steaks, place a pineapple slice on each.
  4. To make gravy, slowly sauté a large can of mushrooms in butter. While doing so, boil down the sauce used for the marinade to make a gravy.
  5. Combine mushrooms and reduced marinade sauce.
  6. Serve individual steaks with the pineapple on top, over which has been poured a generous amount of gravy.

He was brought to the ER in cardiac arrest. Feeble pulse, BP not recordable, he was connected to a ventilator.

He is your old case, the resident reminded me. I look at him. A flashback appears

Flashback

Despite my poor face-recognition software I remembered our last conversation.

‘Doctor, I stopped the medicine you gave and started this new ayurvedic medicine for diabetes, which I came across in Google search. I started it, now 3 months, and see the lab results, they are perfect’ he threw the lab test results on my table diffidently, with a look of someone who won a boxing match without a single punch. ‘And no side effects by the way’ the sarcasm was clear in his voice. Years of medical practice endowed me with the non-stick ‘mental coating’ that make me smile.

‘I am not the manufacturer of pills, and I don’t gain or lose by your choosing to take a pill’ I silently remind myself.

But yes, his blood sugar values were normal.

Fact Check

Diabetes is elevated blood sugar, and we know its consequences. Blood vessels, from heart to brain, from eyes to kidneys tend to get blocked in diabetes; leading to stroke, heart attack, kidney disease and loss off vision. But why does it happen? That’s still not clear, even if you read through every line of the 1250 pages of the latest edition of Joslin’s Text Book of Diabetes. Today we know that diabetes comes with a host of conditions like obesity, hypertension, low HDL and elevated triglyceride (known as metabolic syndrome) and could all be partially responsible for the development of vascular complications of diabetes.. Discovery of hyperinsulinemia (increased insulin levels) as the prime driver in type 2 diabetes has added a new dimension. The present understanding is that diabetes is a biochemical orchestra gone wrong, and high blood sugar may be just one single player. Reprimand him, throw him out, but your orchestra still doesn’t improve.

A study published in Lancet show that in a diabetic lowering of blood pressure and LDL cholesterol gives significant reduction of cardiovascular events but the quantum of benefit of lowering sugar is far lesser and has a J curve (more lowering may actually harm; even in the normal range).

A recent Swedish registry data published in New England Journal of Medicine shows that in a diabetic, lowering of blood pressure, LDL cholesterol, and stopping smoking along with blood sugar control conclusively prevent a heart attack, while only control of blood sugar doesn’t.

A researcher has aptly commented that ‘Diabetes is a cardiovascular disease with elevated blood sugar’. Control blood sugar, you could still be in danger.

The FDA now insists that all diabetic drugs should prove benefit in terms of cardio-vascular event reduction in large trials to be eligible for approval for treatment of diabetes. Mere sugar lowering won’t do.

I could see the big picture, at least a part of it. At least I knew that our knowledge is shallow. The myopic man, contended with a normal blood sugar value, lying helplessly still, connected to a host of tubes and a beeping monitor was blissfully unaware.

I don’t build my house myself; I trust the architect. I don’t stich my shirt, the tailor has my confidence. I believe that the local taxi driver knows roadblocks better than Google.

Funny that we all believe Google more than our doctor.

Not funny for the sobbing relatives, sitting outside the ICU praying for him to get well.

China has successfully developed a new type of standing oblique detonation ramjet engine, which has high energy conversion efficiency and strong adaptability, and is of great significance to improving rocket launch performance, reducing costs and deep space exploration.

The standing oblique detonation ramjet is actually a rocket engine that uses a special combustion mode. Its design is inspired by the propagation characteristics of the explosion wave. It generates powerful thrust by colliding the fuel and oxidizer at a high speed at a specific angle and triggering an explosion.

The standing oblique detonation ramjet engine not only has high working efficiency and long continuous working time, but also has great advantages in structure. The engine does not require any rotating or moving parts. It only uses the three parts of the air intake, hydrogen fuel injector and combustion chamber to form the whole device. Standing oblique detonation ramjet engines can only work under hypersonic airflow.

When a hypersonic aircraft flies in the air, the shockwave not only will make it difficult for the engine’s fuel to burn, but will also cause turbulence on the fuselage surface, causing the aircraft to vibrate violently in a short period of time that affects control, and may even cause the fuselage to disintegrate.

The aircraft thus has to be made into a special streamlined structure called wave rider. Its leading edge can “ride” on the shock wave in the hypersonic airflow, which will not cause vibration of the aircraft body, but make full use of the energy of the shock wave to maintain the stability of the flight attitude.

With the standing oblique detonation ramjet engine, the aircraft can fly at a speed of more than 5 times the speed of sound. With the wave rider technology, the aircraft can maintain a stable and controllable attitude during high-speed flight. The combination of the two technologies has laid a strong foundation for the breakthrough of the future military science and technology in China.

This technological breakthrough not only demonstrates China’s profound strength in aerospace science and technology, but also indicates that future spacecraft will have greater maneuverability and a wider range of applicability.

The uniqueness of this engine lies in its suitability for high-speed flight, especially in the field of hypersonic flight. Current aircraft can only reach speeds of several times the speed of sound, but with the help of this engine, aircraft can reach higher speeds, higher altitudes and longer distances.

This type of engine is mainly used in high-tech and high-efficiency industrial fields. For example, they play a vital role in industries such as aerospace, shipbuilding, power generation equipment, and heavy machinery. With its excellent performance and reliability, this type of engine provides strong power support for these industries and promotes technological progress and industrial development.

In terms of energy supply, they can improve energy efficiency and reduce energy consumption. In the field of transportation, whether it is cars, trains or planes, high-performance engines can improve operating efficiency and passenger experience. In the field of medical equipment, precision engine technology provides a more stable power source for medical devices, thereby improving the quality of medical services.

I went to see my new Internist with an itchy rash all over my body. My dermatologist had prescribed an antibiotic for a localized skin infection, and then gone out of town. I am allergic to a few antibiotics, but had never had an issue with this type before.

My internist entered the exam room, lifted one of my arms by the wrist and rotated it to see each side. He dropped it in my lap and said, “Doesn’t look too bad.” I told him I was a bit worried because of the previous allergic reactions I had experienced to antibiotics in the last few months (I was having chronic sinus infections at the time). He left the room without explanation and came back with a bottle of calamine lotion. He explained how to apply it. I looked at him skeptically and asked how it would help if the rash was caused by a medication I had taken orally. He sighed loudly several times and said, somewhat facetiously, “Well, just take Benedryl if you are so worried.” I said I had been told never to take Benedryl with the several medications I was taking for my autoimmune condition, as well as an SSRI and Benzodiazepine.

He became angry, and shouted, “Well then what do you want me to do?!” I pulled away from him on the edge of the exam table, as I meekly explained that I was usually given 5mg of prednisone for a few days for this type of reaction. “Do you even know how that medication works?” He spat at me. At the time, I was a pretty new college student and was also not great at reading sarcasm. I didn’t know he was asking a rhetorical question, so I answered him thoroughly, explaining the mechanism of action of corticosteroids for inflammation. His face got red and his eyes narrowed. “How do you know that? How do you know any of that?” I calmly reminded him I was a premed student studying biology, and that I liked to know what medications did before I took them. I was confused about his level of aggression, but I felt cornered and didn’t know what to do other than assert myself in as calm of a manner as I could. That is what I had been taught to do.

“Well, well…you know way too much for a girl. Especially a girl your age. This is very inappropriate for you to know this.” He stood up from his stool and walked out the door. I was frantically trying to figure out what I had done wrong. I started to cry. I called my mom and tried to tell her what had happened, hoping she could tell me what I missed. She said, “Hold on, he is calling on the other line.” She took the call. She later told me he told her the same he had said to me— that I knew too much, that my level of knowledge was inappropriate, and she cut him off, and said “Dr. ——, it sounds like you have a personal issue. What is inappropriate is this phone call.” She clicked back into my call and just said, “Leave. There’s something wrong with him.” I had not signed a release for him to speak with anyone about me, so technically, it was a HIPAA violation for him to contact my mom. He also contacted one of my specialists, who wouldn’t take his call. He left a message. I had not signed a release for them to speak either, as this was a new internist I was seeing. I am glad I did not, and glad I did not continue to see him.

Recently, I was seeing my current doctor, and out of habit, apologized for sounding like a know-it-all about a specific topic we were discussing. He said, “Never apologize for your knowledge. Never. It is one of your greatest attributes.” I told him I wished all doctors felt that way, and he responded, “If they don’t, it’s their problem, not yours.” Twelve years later, it really felt good to hear that.

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure – 1950s Super Panavision 70

Worst feeling: being told my daughter needed life threatening surgery on her skull, and that without it, she would end up with permanent brain damage due to premature closure of the growth plates in her skull.

I took my daughter to the doctors just for her yearly health check and was given this news. The diagnosis was Saethre–Chotzen syndrome.

About six months later, watching her head growing deformed by the day, she was finally admitted to Royal Children’s Hospital (Melbourne, Australia).

The following day, she was wheeled into surgery. I kissed her goodbye as she went to sleep under the anaesthetic, not expecting her to make it. The doctor looked grim. The dozen or so staff in the surgery theatre were silent. I was ushered away.

The neurosurgeon said before I left that if all went well, she’d be in surgery for 3-4 hours. The subsequent nine hours were the longest in my life.

Afterwards, the neurosurgeon said it was worse than he had suspected and he had to remove her entire skull from the ears up and completely rebuild it with dissolvable plates.

To then see her afterwards in ICU looking like this…

I was a mess. My wife wouldn’t fall apart for another few days.

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main qimg c48eddf5f5d8cbd98a78220df4a5285c lq

Don’t get me wrong, the hospital team are the best in the world. That night, as my wife lay beside my daughter’s ICU bed, she whispered to me ‘She’s going to pull through. I’m not worried about that now, but how the hell are we going to pay for all this?’


The best feeling for me, exceeding any joy that preceded it in my 50 years on Earth, was listening to my daughter singing the entire song Let it go from the movie Frozen, verbatim in Spanish (of all things) from a YouTube clipping she had watched the day before. She was doing this while building a sandcastle on the beach. It was a year post-op. Weird thing was, she didn’t know Spanish and could only speak English and Thai.

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main qimg ace2136b5c78c7ac12e4f8225123dc23 lq

I don’t know if God exists, but angels certainly do.

BTW, my wife, who comes from Thailand, still can’t believe that healthcare is free here in Australia (paid for via our taxes).

In fact, Israel has only one front at war: the residual military value of the US.

All provocative actions taken by Israel are aimed at making it increasingly difficult for the US to tolerate the damage it has suffered in terms of international influence, and attempting to ultimately force the US to deploy military force into the Middle East.

As one of the most valuable political legacies of the founding fathers of the US, Jews were almost excluded from the core of the military system and appointed solely around economic operations, which to some extent ensured the security of the US and the world. Now, this design is gradually taking effect: fanatical Zionist zealots have to use extremely poor methods to try to manipulate the US military power – that is almost the only value left that America can be plundered by Zionists.

Subsequently, Zionists will attempt to expand/transfer their influence, they will try to parasitize regions such as Ukraine, HK, and India or somewhere else. Now, tens of thousands of Israelis have gone abroad to Ukraine, which is a country lacking defense capabilities of them. They are trying to bribe HK officials to let them in. Basically, they plan to give up on the US after draining it, maybe also Israeli land itself.

But I don’t think this behavior will succeed. Israel has offended almost all major countries on Earth at the same time. Israel is attempting to harm American interests and deceive and fool the US. The negotiation process between Israel and Lebanon was guaranteed by the national credibility of Britain and France, then Israel broke it. Israel attempted to interfere with China’s reunification process. It tried to intimidate Chinese UN peacekeeping soldiers. Israel directly conflicts with Russia on the battlefield. I can continue to list, but let’s save our time.

Honestly, I can’t see in which way this newly founded country can continue to exist, or even this outdated civilization.

Loyal Husband Catches Wife With Best Friend – She’s Toast & He’s Lawyering Up

Keep your focus and do not give up

For my sins I managed one of the largest and most successful Go-Go/Show bars of the time, Angelwitch in Pattaya back in 2011 for a year.

There was a staff of around 65 with 35–40 being Go-Go girls, they all had their reasons for being there.

Every girl is different, but the majority come from the poorer North Eastern (Issan) parts of Thailand and start work in a go-go bar to earn money and support their family.

Many girls have a child or children and have been left to bring them up on their own.

The money they can earn in a Go Go bar far exceeds what they are able to earn back in their villages or factories in Bangkok where they will be lucky to pull in 18,000 Baht ($535) a month for a 6 day week with overtime in a factory and even less working on a farm or in 7/11.

However, some Go Go girls can make in excess of 150,000 Baht ($4,460) a month, plus little extras like gold necklaces etc. I know of escort girls in Bangkok who regularly earned over 200,000 Baht a month, that’s nearly $6,000 so you can see the attraction.

Do the Go Go and escort girls enjoy it? Most don’t enjoy the act but they enjoy the rewards.

Sometimes, however they will get a “young handsome guy” and if they like him, yes they do enjoy it and hope he comes back for seconds, the girls in Angelwitch used to scream when any fit handsome guys came in and they would be fighting for their attention and if one of the girls went off with him many others would be jealous.

I would put the girls into 3 main categories:

  • Some are looking for the “rich” foreigner that’s going to be able to take care of them and their family, they’re not worried about the love aspect of it (this by the way happens in normal Thai society). They may have seen other girls from the village with a nice house and living a good life or heard stories about other girls that have been successful in this quest. I’ve seen plenty of success stories but the disasters far outweigh the successes when they meet under these circumstances.
  • Some girls are purely after the money, they hate the work, they’re not looking to meet anyone and may even have a boyfriend/husband back home who their also supporting. Their main priority is generally to build a house back home and earn enough money to take care of their boyfriend/husband and extended families (Thai culture expects the children to take care of the parents). Once they have achieved their goals they will go back to their villages.
  • Some girls get hooked on the money and the life, they enjoy the camaraderie of the bar life and the new life they have found, most though waste all their money and after they are forced to quit due to age or health find they have little to show for it. There are of course exceptions and many have houses, cars, expensive holidays and still plenty in the bank.

At the end of the day “how is their life”?

Like I said earlier, the majority wouldn’t say they like what they do but the majority certainly aren’t forced into it either, it’s a career choice (of course I’m aware there is human trafficking and some are forced into prostitution but I’ve never met or heard of any personally). Thailand are currently having a big drive with regards to stamping out human trafficking

Some of the girls I worked with whom I am still friends and in contact with are still in the oldest profession but seem to be happy enough, some are now happily married to foreigners either in Thailand or their husbands country, some have been married and divorced and are back in the bars or freelancing in nightclubs, some are still in the bars, some have earned enough money and have gone home.

Overall the majority, I would say are enjoying life.

Steak Marsala

Serve Steak Marsala with mashed potatoes or egg noodles.

steak marsala
steak marsala

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 4 (4 ounce) beef tenderloin steaks, cut 3/4 inch thick
  • 1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms
  • 4 teaspoons all-purpose flour, divided
  • 1 teaspoon salt, divided
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1/2 cup chopped onion
  • 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 1 1/2 cups (4 ounces) thinly-sliced shiitake mushroom caps
  • 1 1/2 cups (4 ounces) thinly-sliced cremini mushrooms
  • 1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped
  • 1/2 cup Marsala wine
  • 2/3 cup beef broth
  • Chopped chives

Instructions

  1. Place porcini mushrooms in a small bowl; cover with boiling water to rehydrate. Cover and let stand for 30 minutes or until tender.
  2. Drain, reserving the liquid; rinse mushrooms. Thinly slice; set aside.
  3. Combine 3 teaspoons flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper in a shallow dish. Dredge steaks in flour mixture, shaking off any excess.
  4. Heat a large sauté pan over medium high heat until hot. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil. Cook steaks for 4 to 5 minutes on each side or until internal temperature reaches 135 degrees F with meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the steak. Remove from heat and keep warm, tenting with aluminum foil.
  5. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in pan over medium high heat. Add onion and garlic; sauté for 2 to 3 minutes or until onion is tender.
  6. Add remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, porcini, shiitake, cremini mushrooms and thyme; sauté for 4 to 5 minutes or until mushrooms release moisture and darken.
  7. Evenly sprinkle remaining 1 teaspoon flour; cook 1 minute stirring constantly.
  8. Stir in wine; cook for 1 minute.
  9. Add broth; bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes or until thickened.
  10. Return beef to pan and cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until heated being careful not to overcook beef (145 degrees F).
  11. Sprinkle with chives and serve.

43 Scientists Insist the Afterlife Is a Reality

I had a friend called Peter. He was gay and shared a house with his ex. They hadn’t been together for years but were still close. Peter bought half his exes house when his ex got into financial difficulty, and took out mortgage insurance. Peter caught a very aggressive strain of HIV and died within six months so the mortgage was paid off.

The funeral was a nightmare Despite Peter being no contact with his family after they disowned him for being gay the vicar only talked to his parents, they didn’t talk to his ex at all despite living together for around 20 years. Next of kin is next of kin when you aren’t married I suppose. So none of Peters life or friends were mentioned or celebrated, it was all about his grieving parents. One thing that still sticks in my mind all these years later is when he said “And Jesus was nailed to the cross, surrounded by thieves, murderers, child molesters and criminals. If Jesus could forgive them and they could enter the kingdom of heaven then there’s hope for Peter”. There was an audible gasp in the church at that point and some people half stood up in anger.

The wake was at the house and the parents and a brother were wandering round with a notepad, and when asked what they were doing they said they were cataloguing everything as the house and all it’s contents were now half theirs. They smirked as they said to the ex “Don’t worry, when we get home we’ll organise selling the house so you can start getting your crap out before the sale. We just want to make sure you don’t hide the valuables before we got our half.”. I was there and heard every word. The room went silent and the ex went to the safe and pulled out a document. “This is Peters will. I was going to read it later but might as well do it now”. Basically, Peter had left everything to his ex. House, car, bank accounts and insurance policy, and small bequests to close friends. I got a series of books I’d told him I loved after borrowing them to read (Tales of the city if you are interested).

“And to my parents, brother and sister, I leave them what they gave me in life. Nothing. They treated me like garbage from the age of 15 and I officially disinherit all of them” was what I remember. They stormed out in a rage and were never heard from again. The ex said they did apparently seek legal advice, but as they were mentioned in the will and purposefully left nothing they couldn’t claim they were forgotten so couldn’t contest the will. In the UK you don’t have to leave family anything, but it’s wise if they are close family to state outright so your intentions are clear.

  1. What the United States and Israel are doing is anti-human and they are playing a game of trying to sell the global public some unconvincing claims, but the global public is not stupid.
  2. In terms of strategy and tactics, the Chinese are pioneers. The history of psychological warfare in China can be traced back 4,000 years, and the early experience of psychological warfare in ancient times is most centrally reflected in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. According to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, the main objective of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting; the essence of war is to attack the enemy’s strategy; the main principle of war is to fight for control of the people’s morale; and the gist of war lies in focusing on the decision-making skills and personality traits of the enemy’s commander-in-chief. Whether in politics, military or economy, Americans have never won in the decades-long competition between China and the United States. The facts are clear: The United States is getting worse and worse, while China is getting better and better.
  3. The favourite board game of the Chinese is Go, while the favourite of Westerners is Chess. There are two big differences between these two games: In chess, the focus is on the ‘king’, or ‘centre’, whereas in Go, the focus is on the ‘big picture’. The Go board is much larger than the Chess board. In Chess, it’s all about ‘checkmate’, it’s about ‘total victory’ and ‘total defeat’, it’s a ‘zero-sum game’. ‘Unlike Chess, Go is about two players seeking strategic advantages in different positions.

7 MINS AGO: What CHINA Just DID To U.S. SHOCKED EVERYONE!

A first hand experience here:-

Never ever go water scooter riding. The locals con you in the ways below:-

  1. As you roam the beaches, a local would come to you with a menu card which shows that a 15 min ride is just 150 or 200 bucks.
  2. You seem thrilled as how cheap it is and immediatly say yes. Suddenly out of no where , in matter of seconds, you are made to wear a life jacket, the scooter is ready and the local says you can now ride alone. You are thrilled at the opportunity to ride the scooter without someone behind you controlling the scooter.
  3. The local takes pictures of the scooter before the ride. You think this is fine as the local would be worried about his asset and wouldn’t want damage. You wouldn’t want to damage either.
  4. You ride for 15 mins, the ride is great, you are happy as you descent and take off your life jacket.
  5. The local hands you a bill of 50k to 100k as damages to the scooter.
  6. You wonder how exactly did you damage it. You were in the water and rode it nicely.
  7. The thing is that the scooter is made up of cheap plastics and would damage as soon as you enter the water.
  8. They demand the replacement with original Yamaha parts which costs a fortune.
  9. Since you are a tourist, you have no clue how such things work and you go to the nearby police station.
  10. The police don’t care and ultimately as it’s time for you to leave the country next day, you have no option but to pay.

P.S: Never ever give your passport to them as this means that they are in control of everything. Not that earlier they weren’t, but you don’t want to make it worse.

What was the greediest thing you’ve seen a family member do?

Certain members of my mother’s family are the poster children of greed, specifically her parents and two of her brothers.

In 2013 she was killed in a car accident. She had a decent life insurance policy which went to my dad. Her parents and older brother felt that it should go to them for some reason. So they tried to sue my dad, who was still very much grief stricken. It didn’t even go to court. The judge threw it out with prejudice in the initial hearing.

This of course led to irreparable damage between my grandparents and dad and an uncle who was basically disowned by his entire family(including his own children), except for his parents.

This may not seem greedy but I consider it to be.

A few months ago my cousin called and asked if she could temporarily move in with me because she was starting a new job nearby. I said she could but that it was only going to be her and only for a couple months. She agreed that that was reasonable as her dad, a convicted felon, was going to stay home and sell the house while she looked for a permanent house after work.

A few weeks ago she started bringing things and I asked her if she had started looking for a permanent home, she hadn’t even started looking and it had already been a few months. I informed her that I’d be leaving the next week for vacation and that she was welcome to stay, but no one else was to be here, just her. Again, she agreed.

While on vacation my doorbell camera went off letting me know someone was there. I opened the app and saw a large Uhaul truck parked in front of my driveway and her dad was helping her move their entire house into mine. This was a major problem because

1, He’s a convicted felon, I have firearms in the house, and I was not informed he’d be there. In the state of Florida, the firearms must be locked up and the individual must be restricted from the room they’re in.

2, They were moving their house into mine, meaning, they were trying to make my house theirs while I was away.

When I called them, they said they weren’t doing what I saw them doing. So I called my grandmother, who not only tried to keep up the lie, but when I informed her that I could see them on camera, she tried to say “Family is family so you should be okay with this, right?” Nope, call them and get them out or I’m coming home and I’ll be bringing the police with me.

This of course led to my relationship with that uncle and my grandparents to be even more strained.

I don’t hate my family, but when they try to take something that’s not theirs because they think they’re entitled to it, that’s a major problem.

“Be PREPARED For What’s COMING…” – George Gammon

What should a tourist not do in Thailand?

Thailand is a wonderful place to visit! But it’s always important to respect Thai traditions and customs, and do your best to avoid getting scammed. It’s easy to have a wonderful time here as long as you follow some simple advice.

  • Don’t touch someone’s head. I once forgot the Thai word for “touch” and was telling a story to an old Thai man where someone touched my hair. I touched the man’s head to demonstrate the word I forgot. I shocked the living daylights out of him and caused quite an uproar. Luckily he was very gracious and said it was ok since we were friends, but he warned me to never do it again. The head is considered the highest part of the body and touching it is the highest offense. Don’t do it. You might get yourself in a fight.
  • Don’t disrespect the king. Do not attempt to talk badly about the king with Thai locals. Most Thais are very patriotic and love their king. You will offend them. But also, posting unflattering things about the king online is actually illegal, so there’s big taboo about speaking badly about him. You’ll make Thais very uncomfortable. Oh yeah, don’t post things online about how much you hate the king. You could end up in jail.
  • Don’t point your feet at anyone or show the bottom of your feet to anyone. The feet are the lowest part of the body. It is very disrespectful. Don’t put your feet on Buddhist statues. Don’t use your foot to stop a Thai Baht from flying away if you drop it, it has a picture of the king’s face on it and you’ll offend a lot of people.
  • Don’t enter people’s homes, offices, temples, or certain shops without taking your shoes off. If you see shoes outside of a door, take yours off as well before you enter that door. Since the feet are the lowest part of the body, shoes are seen as even lower, and it’s very disrespectful to enter someone’s house without taking them off. Plus, it’s just seen as dirty.
  • Don’t expect great quality service. I don’t know how many visitors I have had who complain that the waitresses aren’t very attentive. They complain that Songtaew drivers make a lot of stops along the road before we reach our destination. You’re paying a tenth of the price for whatever product you’re getting as you would at home. That is why it’s so cheap, don’t complain if everything isn’t perfect.
  • Don’t lose your temper. Thais do not lose their tempers except in extreme situations, they are always pleasant. They will hang up the phone on you, ignore you, or stall your service further. Always be pleasant and keep your cool.
  • Women must refrain from touching monks. This means you cannot sit directly next to one. If they want to hand something to you, just cup your hands and they will throw it to you. Keep a safe radius if you must pass one on the street. You can talk to them though, some monks are very friendly! Don’t feel you have to avoid them completely.
  • Don’t bring huge amounts of luggage. This makes it really hard to travel. I have had so many visitors bring 2 giant suitcases and has made it near impossible and expensive to switch hotels. There are stairs everywhere in Thailand, taxis have small trunk spaces, domestic flights only allow 10 kg luggage. Just bring a big backpack with all the essentials. You can buy anything else necessary at a 7–11 and wash and laundry shops only charge 40 baht per kilogram to wash, dry, and iron your clothes! You’ll thank me for this.
  • Don’t speak quickly in English. English proficiency is very low in Thailand because they’ve never been colonized. Speak very slow with simplified sentences. Thais at most tourist destinations can speak some English, but they will not understand you if you speak at your native pace and dialect. Don’t get frustrated that it’s hard to communicate, never get angry at them for not speaking English as well as you’d like.
  • Don’t get scammed. Be wary of any Thai who speaks English well who approaches you. The temple is probably not closed and the gems are not real. Barter almost everything, they will automatically charge you higher prices. Use Grab (like Uber) if you can to avoid getting charged ridiculous taxi prices.
  • Dress conservatively when going to temples. Most temples require you to where a shirt with sleeves and pants/skirts below your knees. The higher the rank of the temple, the bigger the dress code. Some, like the Grand Palace, don’t even allow leggings. Respect their religion, royalty, and their landmarks.

Today’s MM visits

What was the greediest thing you’ve seen a family member do?

My grandmother had Altzheimers but for a time was still able to live in her home with my dad coming to help her twice a day. One day she told my dad that her stepson and his family (who lived about 6 hours away) came to the house and loaded up huge leaf trash bags with all of her quilts and antiques and valuables. Even though she sometimes told stories that weren’t true, this was definitely the truth. They literally took EVERYTHING they wanted, not just the valuable stuff. They literally stripped her house of everything except her clothes and furniture and some kitchen items and bath towels.

My dad didn’t even confront his stepbrother, he just let it go. My grandmother was upset for a short time but then forgot it ever happened. The only thing my mother and I cared about was the quilts. We would have liked to have had just one or two of her MANY beautiful quilts she made. They could have had all of the others.

My grandmother owned two houses. She lived in one and rented out the second. She left one house to my dad and one house to her stepson. It was really sad that the stepson felt he and his family needed to come take everything from my grandmother while she was still living and fairly lucid, but people are strange sometimes. The one silver lining about this situation was how easy it was to clean out her house after she died so that it could be sold. We donated her clothes and few possessions that were left and that was it.

EDIT: Even though the quilts were all gone, my grandmother had some “pieces” in her sewing basket that she had sewn to use in a future quilt that she never finished because of the Altzheimers. My mother added a loop to one corner and had it mounted diagonally in a frame for me to hang on my wall. I think it’s beautiful!

What shouldn’t you do in Thailand?

A first hand experience here:-

Never ever go water scooter riding. The locals con you in the ways below:-

  1. As you roam the beaches, a local would come to you with a menu card which shows that a 15 min ride is just 150 or 200 bucks.
  2. You seem thrilled as how cheap it is and immediatly say yes. Suddenly out of no where , in matter of seconds, you are made to wear a life jacket, the scooter is ready and the local says you can now ride alone. You are thrilled at the opportunity to ride the scooter without someone behind you controlling the scooter.
  3. The local takes pictures of the scooter before the ride. You think this is fine as the local would be worried about his asset and wouldn’t want damage. You wouldn’t want to damage either.
  4. You ride for 15 mins, the ride is great, you are happy as you descent and take off your life jacket.
  5. The local hands you a bill of 50k to 100k as damages to the scooter.
  6. You wonder how exactly did you damage it. You were in the water and rode it nicely.
  7. The thing is that the scooter is made up of cheap plastics and would damage as soon as you enter the water.
  8. They demand the replacement with original Yamaha parts which costs a fortune.
  9. Since you are a tourist, you have no clue how such things work and you go to the nearby police station.
  10. The police don’t care and ultimately as it’s time for you to leave the country next day, you have no option but to pay.

P.S: Never ever give your passport to them as this means that they are in control of everything. Not that earlier they weren’t, but you don’t want to make it worse.

ONCE BITTEN (1985) | Mark Discovers He’s A Vampire | MGM

Claire Trbovic

The Farne Islands are black places. Most places in the North Sea are. From their black cliffs a small fishing boat travels precariously between the rocks in the local harbour to Inner Farne on the near horizon. Around the boat, little black specs tornado in unison, their wings silhouetted against a thick sky.The boat eventually finds it’s mooring and a woman comes into view, her long blond plait falls from under two hats pulled low to her face. A seal breaks the water to watch the newcomer, buoyed in the angry water like it’s riding a wave machine at a kid’s amusement park. They lock eyes for a moment and the seal gets bored.The woman empties the boat carefully of food rations and equipment, though obviously not enough for a long stay. She stops and looks longingly at the boat for a moment, leaving a box of wires and a phone still in the dingy. Without hesitation she unwraps the rope keeping the boat moored and sets it free unpiloted. The sea takes it slowly at first, as if checking she means to let it go on purpose. The rope slips away and her only way of escape disappears quickly and vanishes to the black. The seal reappears looking visibly confused.Her job to be done is simple but important. Bird flu ripped through the local population on the small island, meaning no puffin, shag, turn or razorbill was safe. They had no respite from the disease, no technology to turn to for help. She felt she owed it to them; an exchange for her life where money could, and had, bought an easy life.The wind on the Island grabs jealously she walks up to the tower at the top of the black cliff edge. She’s never been inside but has seen the tower many times from the shore, it’s weather worn stones have seen Vikings, Christians, chavs, but yet it remains just so. Her hands begin to unpack rations whilst her mind is still with Max and Alex and Nicky in the city. Home comforts were gone; no cashmere, no Instagram. Only sheepskin rugs from the Northumberland mainland offer any respite; the smell of salt and smoke holds deep into the woven tapestry of the place.On one side of the room sits a desk, it’s screens and monitors and radios cast an unnatural blue hue over the ancient stonework. At it’s side lays what appears to be two sunbeds from circa 1994. They wait with their silvery lids open wide, invitingly clean and ready for use. Where a head would go protrudes a large metal probe, along with a selection of other needles and cables which attach messily to the desk close by.She rubs the back of her head. A screwed metal disc aches at the curve of her skull, not used to the severe North Sea cold. As if in response, all the metal plug points on her body itch in unison. Never again will this body be plugged in to charge, to repair, to reset. She shuts the lids on the life support machines so as not to tempt her. The wind rages but she takes the opportunity to begin her daily tasks. Outside the front door to the tower a sign reads ‘ONLY STEP ON THE BOARD WALK, CHECK FOR CHICKS’ and she imagines someone shouting it in her face.It is a black place as they said it was. Everything is hard. The rock, the water, the wind. It hurts. But this is what she wants, to repent for a life led with too much good fortune. She walks from one end of the small island to the other. Puffins come and go, their beaks filled with sand eels. Silver scales catch the sun which furiously tries to push through the heavy cloud. Against the patchwork of lichen and heather they flash their red beaks to each other like morse code. 

She still feels sick from the journey. In normal circumstances she would have changed bodies long before the sickness kicked in. It would have simply been put on charge until the system calmed down, she had plenty of spares at home. Her stomach sends out a stabbing pain in response. She ponders what people must have done hundreds of years ago when the tower was built; they must have had some medicinal remedies otherwise the whole population would have been wiped out.

 

After a week on the island, the chores are second nature. Today she counts the puffin burrows to monitor this year’s breeding pairs. The work is manual but not too taxing for a fairly new body of which she is glad she still has. The sick feeling remains and hums deep in her body. Before she gets back to the tower for the evening she doubles over and vomits into the wind. Orange lumps fly out over the black cliffs, illuminated against an angry sky.

 

She had never known anyone to be sick, no one had, not since the turn of the century when people still had to endure the frail bodies they were born with. They were taught this stuff in school, how disease was rampant back then but it became irrelevant when technology and Mindscaping were invented. With the ability to move your mind freely from one body to the next, the need to cure disease vanished, modern medicinal products were literally never created. You just discarded the sick like a Primark jumper gone wrong in the wash.

 

She remembered the first exotic body she was bought as a youngster. She had decided on an overnight whim to become a ballerina, so her parents had shipped a model in from Russia. It was exquisite, it’s porcelain skin was almost see though and bent in ways her other bodies could never manage. Unfortunately, it’s feet got mangled and was quickly donated to a family in another town, no point in fixing.

 

A storm rolls in from the North Sea and the sky quickly changes colour. She knows the drill and quickly pulls the few items gathered outside into the tower and bolts the main door. The kettle wines against the howl outside. She finds her mind slipping in the dark, taking her across the water to Max and Alex and Nicky. She cannot remember how old they are, she can barely remember how old she is, but she imagines them at home, drinking expensive wine and eating cheese. Nicky has a svelte body which she only uses on such occasions. The wine goes too quickly though, and she will sneak off mid evening to change models whilst the first has it’s stomach pumped from the alcohol poisoning.

 

The storm outside continues to rage, dark and unruly. Mindscaping meant no one had any repercussions to anything. Sometimes Alex would fight his brother and they’d end up needing new bodies three times a week, hurting her pocket but nothing more. It was a hollow life. Built on an ease that comes only through no hard work, no effort, no strife. They would stay young forever, never experience the pain of loss, of suffering, of heartache. She closes her eyes and sleep takes her, eyes glued together by salt.

 

On day 22 she wakes and washes. Her skin is starting to visibly grey but her mind is clearing. She begins another day of counting burrows. A puffin couple closest to the front door of the tower have been named Victoria and Albert, yet she tries to not get attached. Last week she found a puffin chick dead outside it’s burrow and spent the entire day crafting a burial for him as the wind whipped at her face not allowing any tears. As she read the sermon to the sea, a family of puffins perched on the lighthouse wall in silent prayer.

 

She walks back having found eight burrows empty when they weren’t the day before and falls through the board walk that needs repairing. Her ankle looks wrong and she screams into the wind as pain moves up her leg. She crouches down and lets her body crumple into the acute feeling. Once, her and her friends had snuck into her father’s study to try on his models. She slipped into one he had used when he was in the army a long time ago. It was like eating power. Everything moved so easily, it had so much inbuilt skill it scared her. Her ankle bites back in retort.

 

Every day she cries. Everyday something dies. It is an emotional battle filled with more highs and lows than she’s cumulatively felt in her long existance. Every day she closes her eyes at night, exhausted by the mental effort of living this somewhat simple life. She begins to acknowledge that the island is black, but the kind of black that is deep and never ending and alive.

 

On day 31 Victoria and Albert’s chicks fledge. She watches them from the doorstep of the tower and cries loudly. Her pride for them fills the island. Across thousands of miles, across land and sea and everything in between, these birds find each other every year and will do for their entire lives. Every year they continue to fight for each other, no matter the pain.

 

Her body is slower now as she bends with difficulty to check the burrows across the island. She knew this body had cancer. She had come to the logical end of the road with it and with the shallow life she’d lived until these sweet moments.

 

Out to the deep depths of the North Sea a white sailing ship peaks through the distant horizon, bathed in what seems like warm light from above. A few seconds later the moment is gone. She smiles.

 

After a time, she walks back to the tower and puts the kettle on to boil. She closes her eyes.

How is the life of go-go bar girl in Thailand?

Not wild but self enriching.

I visited Pattaya this June. Anticipating all kinds of possibilities got me all geared up and excited!

For those of you’ll who might not be familiar with the place, Pattaya is known for the Walking Street. A street that offers night life at it’s peak – Prostitution, Go-Go Bars (Gentleman’s Club), Dance Clubs, Live Bands Performing, Sex Shows and goes without saying liquor everywhere.

To give a slight background, I do drink and prefer clubbing. But never before have I visited something similar. Naturally I was all excited to experience what it would be like.

When the day finally arrived, I was in awe of what I was witnessing. It was finally the evening I was longing for since so long! Taking a few strolls of the street I got into a Go-Go Bar.

There I was sipping on some expensive Scotch watching beautiful Thai women dance. Something that I was eagerly looking forward to since the past few months was finally happening.

However instead of enjoying the nudity charade my head was on a completely different track. Wondering what their (the dancer’s) live’s are like? What kind of persons they are? How did they get into this profession? What possible circumstances could have forced them to do this? Behind the act that they’re putting up, there’s probably a helpless person.

Maybe I got emotional, maybe I was overthinking. But that’s just me.

I was surprised. I felt good about myself. I realised a mere conversation was what I seeked. I figured it would be more satisfying than what I initially vouched for.

So there’s this system where you can buy any dancer a drink and she’ll accompany you while she sips on it.

I did.

As soon as she sat beside, she started leaning in. Coming closer. It was their job. They had to do this to make a living. I realised it soon and conveyed my intentions. I told her everything I was feeling. I told her everything I wanted to talk about.

Her reaction was unexpected. She was stunned. She was taken aback. Probably because in her 4 year long career (as she happened to tell me) this was the first time someone wanted to know about her, talk to her. The first time someone showed empathy and seemed interested about her life. The first time someone didn’t want sex.

Her name is Moi and this is her story. She is from a village in north Thailand, and is uneducated. Her mother is no more and her father has a serious illness. She belonged to a farming family but because of monetary issues, they lost their land. The father’s ilness expenditure is beyond reach. That’s why she was doing what she. He is unaware of what his daughter does. She said it was difficult initially but gradually she got used to it. All she cared about was sending him money every month. Yes, she was the man of the house.

Also when she was young, she dated a guy who started humiliating and insulting her for her choice of work and eventually broke off.

She was teary eyed but realised it was inappropriate for the place. She controlled her emotions and concluded with a big bright smile saying, “YES this is my life”.

I was touched. As she was speaking there was this deep respect building up for the strength the woman has shown in life. She truly was a fighter.

She then changed the topic. Enquiring about me, what I do where am I from etc.

The conversation ended on a great note. She said and I quote:

“You are a good man. You made my day. I will never forget you”

Well that made my day!

I felt so good about myself. It’s that feeling of self enrichment and satisfaction you get when you’ve done a good deed was filled with. There was a sense of pride I was experiencing.

She eventually got back to her dancing and requested me to witness her performance. Ofcourse I did.

On my way out I tipped her her one month’s pay. She refused to accept it. Her humility did surprise me but I forced her to accept it.

She hugged me real tight with a smile as I left.

Yes this is not wild. But read this once before you go out seeking wild.

BRICS Just INGENIOUSLY Weaponised A U.S Commodity Heavily Used To Collapse The U.S

It’s a Tibetan question that is seldom discussed and widely frowned upon.

The exiled diaspora is not unified under the leadership of the Dalai Lama as most people falsely assume. The root of the issue is the Westernization of the Tibetans. They want to adopt white men’s language and white men’s style of democracy, much like the Indians.

However, many Tibetans who are loyal to the Dalai Lama have realized that Western democracy is not compatible with classical Tibetan institutions and could spell the doom of the very thing they fought against the communist to protect. Many young Tibetans increasingly speak out against the Dalai Lama in the name of democracy, which is a taboo subject in the exiled community.

The religious order, and even the CTA, promotes “the Middle Way Approach” first envisioned by the Dalai Lama, which acknowledges that Tibet is a part of the People’s Republic of China. However, Tibetans have failed to live up to the true meaning of this approach. That is why they don’t wave the PRC’s flag. The true meaning of the approach would entail Tibetans flying their “state flag” along with their “national flag” and considering themselves “Chinese refugees”.

Ethno-nationalism runs deep in the exiled community. Just a mention of “Free Tibet” is enough to silence all other factions of the debate. Tibetans who advocate against the notion of Tibetan independence are routinely ostracized and labeled as “Chinese spies”. That is not to say that all exiled Tibetans are against accepting Chinese citizenship. It is just that these Tibetans don’t have a platform to voice their opinions. Foreigners wouldn’t sponsor them, and neither would China.

In my point of view, the Dalai Lama is essential in this debate. If somehow the Dalai Lama practices the Middle Way Approach by using the Chinese flag as his national flag, the Tibetans who follow him will get the chance to raise their voices without getting ostracized by the radical separatist faction.

The view that it is the duty of the Han people to convince the exiled Tibetans to be patriotic to their whole motherland is faulty. Doing so implies that China is the country of the Han Chinese only. Tibetans wouldn’t appreciate such a concept of the Chinese nation. The question is best left to the Tibetans themselves to find the solutions. But they should drop the idea that China only belongs to the Han people.

What shouldn’t you do in Thailand?

There’s a long list, but I’ll stick to only a few major ones:

  1. Never, never say anything derogatory about the King or the royal family. That includes stepping on paper currency as it has a picture of the King
  2. Don’t visit with the attitude that Thailand should operate the same as your home country. It’s Thailand, and they run their country as they see fit. Example: You go to a restaurant and after seating you the server stands there while you review the menu. Just go with it. Next, after taking your order, the food doesn’t come out together. You might get your appy after others got their entre. Just go with it—I see it as part of the experience.
  3. Don’t touch the head of a Thai person in public
  4. Don’t horseplay with showing your feet
  5. Take off your shoes when entering personal dwelling and certain buildings
  6. Always remember that you are a guest!

Happy travels!

What was the greediest thing you’ve seen a family member do?

My MIL had been given a really nice, and large, china cabinet by my FIL as an anniversary gift one year. It was a prized possession especially after my FIL died.

I met my husband, her oldest child, a year after my FIL’s death. She and her youngest son moved in with us about a year later. The cabinet came with her. I loved it but assumed she’d give it to one of her two daughters.

One day she was telling me about how she got it and mentioned she always felt she could not give it to either daughter and leave the other one out. She felt the fairest thing was to give it to the wife of her eldest son. She’d decided this long before her husband died or I’d met her son.

Anyway her youngest son heard her tell me the cabinet was mine and threw a hissy-fit. Nothing would satisfy him but her saying he could have it. When he left she restated that it was mine and he would eventually forget about it.

He may have, but she died only a couple of years Iater. He told all his siblings it was his and I couldn’t refute it because there’s no will and she had never told a anyone else it was mine.

We did convince him to leave it with us until he was settled.

Then we moved to the same county all hubby’s siblings lived in. Middle brother’s wife finagled temporarily storing the cabinet then immediately passed it off to baby brother who had one sister store it and they refused to return it because it wasn’t mine. Within three years that cabinet was destroyed/lost. It’s gone. Nobody has it now. Not to mention baby brother never had it in his possession because HE DIDN’T WANT IT. He just didn’t want me to cherish it and keep it in the family.

Maybe not greedy, but certainly selfish.

Why Young Men Are SCREWED In This Economy

I had two of these and loved the experience… most of the time. They are a maintenance headache. It’s basically a house in the middle of an earthquake every mile you drive. I took this picture while at the Air Museum in Oregon. They are wonderful in many respects, but you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re going to love it full-time after you “get rich.” The reason is that even the most expensive RV parks, where they only allow motor coaches and no trailers, are still basically trailer parks. Your neighbors are close by, sometimes within reach, and the behaviors run the full range.

All of that rig you see, with a Jeep in tow, is work, and you have to carefully consider where you’re going because you can’t back up very easily at all. You spend a lot of time at freeway truck stops and rest stops. It’s exciting for a while, and I did have fun, but for a whole year or more? Nope, that would get old.

Big rigs, as they are called, only get around 4 MPG, so figure a buck a mile everywhere you go. It keeps the math easy.

I’d recommend a different direction. Get a wonderful house where you never want to leave. Get a Sprinter van instead and do shorter trips. The best part of a Sprinter is that it will get into any place. While it was small, it was far less work.

The Sprinter below got five times better MPG, and I could park in any grocery store lot or attraction. I could get into small campsites and still catch a snooze on a city street. I had even more fun with a fraction of the work and less stuff to manage.

I have a wonderful home now on acreage, and I never get tired of being here. After trying all options, this was the best one for me.

The most common thing you will see on the road is a pickup pulling a trailer. They are cheap, can be dropped off, and they are fairly easy to manage, except for the pack-up and set-up. I’d guess that 80% of what I saw in RV parks were pickups pulling trailers.

How is the life of go-go bar girl in Thailand?

Quite good, compared to any other job they can possibly get or compared to prostitutes in many other countries.

Most go-go girls in Thailand are village girls without much education. As Tony Dancaster pointed out, go-go girls earn much more than what they can otherwise earn in other jobs they can possibly get.

Besides that, due to Thai’s tolerance toward prostitution, go-go girls are not excluded from normal society. They are not chased down like criminals and they can still maintain normal relationships with their friends and families. More surprisingly, they can still maintain religious observance while being a prostitute. I have seen many cases of go-go girls wearing Buddhist amulet. Prostitutes in many other countries can only dream of this level of acceptance.

Lastly, the guests of go-go bars are mostly relatively well-off foreigners. Most of them understand the concept of safe sex (the same can’t necessarily be said about rural Thai men in Isaan).

First Time Hearing | Alan Parsons Sirius/Eye In The Sky | Reaction!!

What was the greediest thing you’ve seen a family member do?

My dad had a brother, Huck, whom he was especially close to. Unfortunately, my Uncle Huck died of a massive heart attack in his 40’s, leaving his wife to raise their three children. Things were really tough for her financially. My grandmother (Huck and dad’s mom) felt very bad for her and told the family that when she passed, she wanted her furniture and things to go to Huck’s widow, hoping that it might help them in some way. When she died, her two daughters who lived in separate apartments in the same house as my grandmother, stripped her apartment bare and kept everything for themselves.

When my dad found out, he went ballistic and laid his sisters out in lavender. Since Huck died, he had kept in close touch with his widow and acted as kind of a surrogate father to the kids, so he was very protective of them. His sisters, of course, didn’t take kindly to my dad calling them out as “thieves” and “stealing from the grave” and this caused a huge rift in the family and we only saw them rarely after that. But I’m proud of my father for standing up for what was right.

A store manager was overzealous about overtime. Even a minute after was considered stealing from the company. Even part time people like me who were scheduled for 24 hours could be written up for one minute over. At the same time you couldn’t stand in front of the time clock and wait. That was considered stealing time.

After several warnings each week I was one or two minutes over I had a counseling statement to fill out. In my area of comments I stated none of the clocks in the store had the same time. The time on the phones in each department were a minute off and didn’t match the time clock. The company was deliberately setting the times off, forcing employees to punch out early, losing wages and saving the company money.

This of course didn’t fly past the store manager who disputed my statement and wanted me to write something else. I refused and said I would be sending my copy to HR and a lawyer. She never signed it, tore it up.

During the next few days company maintenance went through the store to verify each clock, time listed on the phones to the time clock. A week later I had five minutes over. She called me in, said there was no excuse now. . In the comments section I wrote I was assisting a customer in floral and since the company had not given us the proper language to give a customer we could no longer help, I finished helping her and punched out. Manager did not like that answer also. She reviewed the department tapes to verify I was indeed helping someone. Tore that one up too.

Next day a statement came out stating no one could work any overtime. Violation could result in suspension or termination, we had to sign and date it.

Knowing a few things about corporate law, policy and rules, from my full time job, I took my copy and mailed it to the company lawyers and HR. I asked if this was corporate policy now, where in the handbook was it and did store managers have the authority to write and implement corporate policy, as this was a legal document and affected each and every employee the company had. I gave my helping a customer leading to overtime situation as a reason for it to happen. And asked what the company wanted us to tell a customer we could no longer help.

I truly thought I would be fired. Well let me tell you the shit hit the fan. A week later a HR representative and someone from the legal department met with all the store managers, DMs and Regional Managers. They can’t set company policy, for anything. They can enforce policy, but not set it. In the following weeks the overtime rules were refined. Any issue of someone deliberately working over was sent to loss prevention to review tapes to see if employee was actually working and making an honest effort to punch out, or milking the clock.

Here is the answer:

As a veterinarian, I was called to examine a 13-year-old dog named Batuta. The family was hoping for a miracle.

I examined Batuta and found that he was dying of cancer and there was nothing I could do…

Batuta was surrounded by his family. The little boy Pedro looked so calm, petting the dog for the last time, and I wondered if he understood what was happening. Within minutes, Batuta peacefully fell into a sleep from which he would never wake up.

The little boy seemed to accept it without difficulty. I heard the mother ask, “Why are dogs’ lives shorter than humans’?”

Pedro said, “I know why.”

The little boy’s explanation changed my outlook on life.

He said, “People come into the world to learn how to live a good life, like loving others all the time and being a good person, right?! Since dogs are born knowing how to do all this, they don’t need to live as long as we do. Do you understand?”

The moral of the story:

If a dog were your teacher, you would learn things like:

When your loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never miss an opportunity to go for a walk.

Let the experience of fresh air and wind on your face be pure ecstasy!

Take naps, rest.

Stretch well before getting up.

Run, jump and play every day.

Avoid “biting” when a simple growl would suffice.

In very hot weather, drink plenty of water and lie down in the shade of a leafy tree.

When you are happy, dance by moving your whole body.

Enjoy the simple things, like a long walk.

Be faithful.

Never pretend to be something you are not. Be authentic!

If what you want is “buried”, look for it, persist until you find it.

And never forget:

When someone is having a bad day, stay quiet, sit next to them and gently let them know that you are there.

The PAC-2 has a fragmentation explosive warhead. It gets near the target then explodes and shreds the target. This is for ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, aircraft, other missiles, etc.

The PAC-3 has a kinetic kill warhead. It directly impacts the incoming object. This is usually for ballistic missiles, aircraft, cruise missiles.

They’re radar guided with a active onboard radar and ground station.

STAY FOCUSED – Motivational Speech

Shorpy

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I can sort of answer this.

My parents hated me and resented my being born and ruining their lives. I moved out of the house when I was 17 1/2, the day after I graduated from high school, and never expected to hear of or from them ever again.

After about three years, I heard from an attorney who told me that my parents had died and since they didn’t have a will, all their money was now mine. I really didn’t want anything from them but I took the money and put it in a savings account and didn’t touch it for years, except for one occasion to pay for some large medical bills, because it just felt “dirty.”

What prompted me to accept the money was a visit from their preacher, whom I had known when I was still living at home and saw every weekend when I was forced to go to church. He showed up a few weeks after the attorney contacted me and said that my parents had pledged their estate to the church asked if I would honor their wishes.

This is the same church and preacher that I’m sure knew about the physical abuse I survived through for most of my life. They probably didn’t know about the mental abuse I received, but had to know about the physical. He was adamant that the church should receive all the proceeds from their estate and threatened legal action if I didn’t turn everything over to the church.

He told me of all the glorious things they were going to do with the money and what a difference it would make in so many people’s lives, but what he failed to mention was how much it would do to his life. I was living in a little crappy ass apartment, and had struggled to put myself through one of the most expensive colleges in the country, doing any kind of job that would help me pay the bills and get my degree. When he showed up, he arrived in his new Rolls Royce, with his new Rolex and fancy suit and all that was going through my mind was, “How much of this money is going to support your lifestyle, and how much is actually going to help people?”

I was very conflicted. I really didn’t want to have anything to do with them or their money, and while it could really change my life, it just felt wrong to take it. I knew that, no, it wasn’t my inheritance, it was theirs to disburse however they wanted, and while I did believe the preacher that they wanted it to go to the church, the youthful rebellious part of me wanted to kind of wanted to “stick it to my parents” and deny their wish. I knew they’d be furious that I got their estate, and that certainly felt like sweet justice for the many times I ended up in the hospital with concussions and broken bones.

The more adamant the preacher got that the church should get the estate, the more certain I was that they wouldn’t see a cent of it.

I didn’t touch the rest of the money for over 10 years, and then I started donating it to charities I chose.

 

It does not matter if you are the world’s greatest shot. I mean at a thousand yards you can drop 30 rounds into a 6 in grouping. It doesn’t matter if you have bought only the very best Walmart commando combat equipment. It doesn’t matter how many times you have walked Red Dawn and imagine yourself screaming Wolverines.

Wait until that first bullet passes your head. Then you’ll see.

Wait until you learn what fire discipline as a unit means.

During the Yugoslavian conflict, one of the combatants decided they wanted to give the UN a bloody nose. They set up a rather massive ambush. They were dug in, they had many many times the troops. They had artillery and minefields. This was a guaranteed win. When they attacked the unprepared and far smaller Canadian UN troops, it should have been a slaughter. There was one big difference though. The combatants had been fighting in their civil war for a few years as what they were, irregular troops. But unlike yourself they even had combat experience. What the Canadians had was incredible fire discipline, the training to act as a unit, a cohesive whole. Discipline, leadership and morale. The bad guys lost. You would lose as well.

No of course let’s not ignore that you have decided to be a terrorist organization fighting against the United States. So you are the world’s greatest shot as we said. Tell me what you are going to do against artillery? Tell me what you are going to do against an attack helicopter? What about a main battle tank? Oh I know, you will die.

I’m always disgusted by the traitors, the enemies to their own country who talk or fantasize about waging war against their own country. Whenever I hear anyone say things like, fight against the government. I know they are traitors, or at least want to be.

Masters of the Air Clip – “Engine Three Is On Fire” (2024)

This story is a sad one and hard to tell. It’s hard for me to think about. It happened about 10 years ago and involved a 6 year old patient. This kid was so smart; let me say he had wisdom. At the age of 6, he seemed wiser to me than most adults. I learned more from this kid than he learned from me. I diagnosed him with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a very rare bone cancer with terrible odds. I started him on a chemo therapy protocol. With radiation to follow, in order to shrink the tumor so that I could operate. He went through the chemo, which almost killed him, with what I could only describe as grace. Much grace. I had explained to him how low the odds were. His mother was there crying as I spoke with him. He was understanding everything I was trying to tell him. But, it seemed that he already knew. We had nurses and consulting doctors there all through the process. He had gotten so sick from the chemo, I didn’t think I should go through with the radiation. The tumor margins were not good. So, I spoke to his mother who said quite plainly that I should not proceed. She explained it to her kid. The next day, I went to talk with my patient. That kid was smiling as I told him I was going to go ahead and operate. That day. Then, he asked me if I thought the tumor would shrink more with radiation. I told him probably, but I thought I could get all of the tumor without the radiation. He just laughed. Remember, this young man was only 6 years old. Then he told me something I will never forget. He said “doctor, I feel God, and God told me I would see him soon”. He had a smile on his face when he said it. For the first time in my life, tears welled up in my eyes. Then he said “ doctor, it’s ok, don’t be sad. I get to go to heaven”.

I got myself together. He reached out and hugged me, I hugged him back fighting back tears. We both agreed that the radiation wouldn’t be necessary, so at least he didn’t have to go through that. We prepared for surgery. Before we put him under, he said with happy eyes, “thank you doctor for helping me”. I said to that wonderful boy, “it was my pleasure. I’ll see you after”. When I opened him up on the table, I found that the tumor had wrapped itself around the femoral artery. I couldn’t believe it. I was so angry, it had not showed on the MRI,s. Then, I was overwhelmed with sadness. There was no way to resect it. No possible way. I tried to get it all without nicking the femoral artery. I felt like I was trying to save my own child. I tried so hard, I tried so so very hard. I was beaten and I knew it but I wouldn’t stop. This kid would not die. I kept screaming at myself on the inside. The surgeon assisting told me to close him up. I wouldn’t I couldn’t. Then, it hit me like a brick, what he had told me. “ I feel God, and God told me I would see him soon”.

There was nothing left to do but leave the tumor and close. After recovery, I came to tell him what had happened. And with such grace and happiness, he explained to me what God had meant. And that heaven was a good place and he was not afraid. We, hugged, I walked out of his room. He died 2 weeks later as the tumor tore through the femoral artery causing him to bleed to death in less than a minute. It was fast, it was not painful. He died at home in his mother’s arms. But the grace and wisdom this child showed made me feel so small, so less of a doctor, so sad. So much so that I thought to myself, I need to be more than I am. I need to do better. He taught me that death is not something we should fear. That there is a better place when we die. And not to be afraid of it. That one patient, that one kid with so much wisdom, made me a better doctor. He made me a better person. That young man taught me that when I face death, to face it with no fear. And I hope when my time comes, I can be half that strong, as that little boy. And I know this, when my time does come, I will be thinking of him.

  1. People are nice at the beginning, when they’re training you. Then you’re the slow new guy, that everyone is sick of.
  2. When you start your new job, never show how much you can work hard, or try to be the star, that’s how you make enemies.
  3. Never be too friendly with your colleagues, ’cause when you become their supervisor you won’t be able to contain them.
  4. When fighting for promotion don’t expect others to play fair.
  5. When you first start your job, try being friends with that person who is closest to your boss (assistant, vice president..). That’ll make things easier for you in the future.
  6. Do not have relationships with your colleagues, it makes things really complicated. (And sometimes it’s against company policy)
  7. Since you’re the new guy, you’ll get the most boring stuff to do that others try to avoid, then you’ll meet another new guy in the future and you’ll make him do the same things for you.
  8. Never be a Yes Man when your boss asks for your opinion, be honest, he’ll value your opinion.
  9. Never be too friendly with your boss, you’ll be his friend, and won’t be considered for promotion unless you’re a high achiever in the company.
  10. When you start your first real job, check the work environment, if it’s toxic, RUN THE OTHER WAY!

Vivid Black covers Head East’s “Never Been Any Reason”

My grandfather told me this joke over fifty years ago and it still brings a smile to my face.

A 12 year old boy was diagnosed with cancer in one of his eyes and had to have his eyeball removed. His parents were poor and couldn’t afford a glass eye, so they put an eye made of wood into the boys eye socket. The boy was very self conscious and often tried to cover his eye with his hand and tried to avoid eye contact with anyone .

The school dance was approaching, and the boys parents encouraged him to go, despite Jim being very self conscious about his eye. The boy was unsure,but with the urging of his parents, he reluctantly agreed to go to the dance.

Friday night came and the boys parents dropped him off at the gym, assuring him he’d be fine. The boy went into the gym, but immediately went to a corner, covering his eye with his head. The other kids were dancing,having a great time but he was just too self conscious to ask a girl to dance.

He looked across the gym and saw a girl sitting alone. As he gave her a closer look, he could see the girl had a hair lip. He thought to himself, “ she might dance with me since we both have a physical problem “. His heart was pounding as he gathered all his nerve, approaching the girl. He had his hand on his face half covering his eye, but pulled it away when he reached her and with all the courage he could muster ,he said in a soft, shaky voice , “ Would you like to dance?” The girl answered excitedly “ Would I! Would I !” The boy replied, “ Hair lip! Hair lip!”

Oh boy where do I start?

I decided to make a trip to the world famous Lake Tahoe Nevada for a party beach day. I live 30 minutes away. Get absolutely plastered.

Playing beer pong with a random group, my partner asks to wear my LV sunglasses. Me being drunk, hand them over. Ten minutes later I look over and he’s taking off with them.

My friend and I chase him. I’m stumbling barefoot at this point. My friend is sober doing all the work. We finally catch up.

The theifs friend pulls a pistol out of his backpack, cocks it and pulls the trigger pointed at my face. I hear a click. It jammed while he cocked it. If that gun didn’t jam, I’d be dead 100%.

We tell our group, they knew who it was. Now I have 5 dudes who you just don’t F with texting this guy about my shades. I’m an innocent nice guy but my friends are felons. This theifs life is on the line at this point. He ended up dumping them in the trash. I let it go for the sake of the theif.

But seriously, that pistol clicked in my face. I would’ve been gone. One of many many stories at Lake Tahoe.

It’s absolutely breath taking, don’t visit the popular beaches on holidays

Question: What are some common wilderness survival tips that are actually more likely to get you killed than help you survive?

Some thoughts:

  1. Rationing water – Your body is perfectly capable of rationing your water; it doesn’t need your “assistance”. If you have water, DRINK IT. As much as you can hold at one or until you have to urinate, whichever comes first. Then you either limit your movement or talking and find shade to prevent excessive sweating and water. You may get thirsty when you run out of water; however dead people are often found with full or nearly full bottles of water that they were going to “ration” until the heat or thirst overcame them and they died of dehydration.
  2. Drinking urine – Several other answers have already mentioned this; but you can’t emphasize it enough. Urine contains waste that were flushed by water in your body. Drinking urine simply returns those wastes to your body and may make you vomit or worse, have diarrhea.. You’ll quickly become even more dehydrated and a deadly spiral will continue until you die. Don’t do it.
  3. Eating berries or unknown mushrooms – JUST DON’T. Even if they are not poisonous, they can cause hallucinations or even diarrhea and you’ll be in worse shape. You might get hungry, but under normal conditions, you’ll be found or you’ll find someone within 72 hours and you’ll be rescued. This is why it’s always important to keep SOME food in your vehicle or in your camping gear.
  4. Making a solar still – Too much effort and water loss (sweating) for too little gain. Don’t bother,

US Doctor Who Studied 5,000 Near-Death Experiences Says This About Afterlife

Well, you know, one in five koreans died during the Korean War before an armstice was signed.

Seven decades later, a peace treaty remains elusive, because the United States is a counterparty, and it pursues a “take no prisoners” strategy when it comes to communists, especially when they are not useful.

The exceptions today are Vietnam and China, for obvious reasons.

Now, taiwan as we find it today is an active remnant of the Chinese Civil War, which was fought on a scale way bigger than Korea.

Why active? Because the roc didn’t sign an armstice with the PRC. Technically, a state of war exists between the 2 governments, with 99.5% of humanity recognizing Beijing as China’s government, and the remaining 0.5% Taipei.

Every first world state, every big (population > 100m) state is part of the 99.5%, and they maintain embassies/consulates in Beijing, under the One China framework.

Just like the Koreas, it is the United States being the road block to peace.

The United States was embarrassed in korea after being fought to a standstill. That set into motion the unique position of Taipei, which once occupied the P5 China seat at the UN.

The interested reader is welcome to dig further.

In the 21st century, the Chinese people are seeking a conclusion to the Chinese Civil War, for peace and complete sovereignty to return as mandate in China.

Well, it certainly gets one’s attention, along with giving one a huge spike of adrenaline!!!!

Also to be “chased” by a missile is to be not in a good position, especially since some of them fly at Mach III+. You can’t outrun them, unless you are at the very edge of their range or envelope. Indeed it is better to have them coming in at you from the forward hemisphere where you can see them and better defeat them, rather than it coming from the rear and chasing you.

Fighter pilots like challenges, and an air-to-air or surface-to-air missile fired at you certainly qualifies! Before the fighter pilot ever flies in harm’s way, his intelligence officer will have briefed him on the enemy’s missiles, their capabilities, their ranges, their guidance, their tactics, and how to defeat them. Earlier the fighter pilot will have practiced defeating a variety of enemy missiles, so he is trained and ready.

Without getting into specifics, different missiles can be defeated by different aircraft maneuvers and by various tactics. Certainly dispersing flares will hamper a missile with IR guidance, as will electronic countermeasures (ECM) and metallic chaff, hamper a radar guided one. You concentrate on what you have learned in training, and methodically do your job against the incoming missile threat.

The well-trained pilot with adequate countermeasures stands a good chance against most missile threats. After a while, it almost becomes routine if you have seen many missiles, and lived to tell about it.

Anecdote: For high and fast-movers, the SA-7 Strella (MANPAD) is not much of a threat, being small, slow, and limited in range. The first time I ever saw one fired at me, I thought, “What the heck is that?” It looked like a wounded duck, spiraling up at us in a corkscrew fashion. My wingman and I were laughing at it over the radio as we flew out of its range. We had seen too many and more deadly SA-2 ‘telephone poles’ shot at us to be impressed by this little guy.

Seismograph Triggers ALERT from Iran “Earthquake”

No Compression Wave large
No Compression Wave large

An unusual seismic event has taken place in Iran; so unusual that seismographs have “ALERTED” over this “event.”

“I hear what women think” | What Women Want | CLIP

We had solar panels installed in 2021. It took a long time to choose a company and we interviewed a number of companies. It was very expensive (almost$100K), but we wanted Solar Edge panels and Tesla back-up batteries, top of the line 25 year warranty on the panels, 10 years on the batteries. The federal tax credit was 26% in 2021 and North Carolina gave us a $4,000 rebate on the panels.

There is a connection fee in most states and an agreement with your electric company to either pay you for the excess energy you deliver to the “grid” or to hold your excess for future use. This monthly connection fee ranges (by state and by Power Provider) from $15 to $35 per month. In North Carolina, our fee with Duke Energy is $16 per month and they hold our excess kilowatt hours for times when we have very little sun, rain, storms, winter. Since we had the solar panels installed, we have not had a single month when we needed to buy power from the electric company…but we did have to cover the whole house, back and front. (The spaces are for roof vent pipes.)

Because of the age, style and design (Victorian) of our house we had monthly electric bills of $200 to $450. Now they’ve been around $16 for three years. When we have a big storm coming, Duke Power keeps our batteries charged and we’ve never been without power on our basic systems. If you can afford it, you should do it. The electric company gets its energy mostly from petroleum, natural gas and coal. Everything we can do to help preserve our natural resources, we probably should do. P.S. Our house was prettier without the panels!

An acquaintance of mine lives two blocks away.

He’s almost 40, but he looks like he is a GQ model. It’s redonkulous.

You know those magazine ads, those fancy dark haired guys in the black and white pictures on the beach walking, with piercing eyes, and that just muscular-enough body that drives girls nuts?

That’s him.

I catch women looking at him at parties for extended periods of time.

He’s got a million dollar smile that sparkles. He’s funny and easy to talk to.

And he’s a maxillofacial surgeon.

Codename, smart, hot guy with money.

If this guy went after a girlfriend of mine, I’m not sure I’d blame her for writing her own hall pass.

And I have a secret for you about this guy.

It’s going to disappoint you fellas.

He’s an amazing father and husband.

He’s been with his wife since college, he is a devoted dad. His kids hang on him like monkeys.

His wife is always happy. They are good.

I’m a divorced guy. I know a bad marriage when I see it. They have one solid marriage.

He’s a humble, normal, friendly guy. Who woulda thunk.

This GQ looking man, who could have rocked the single life harder than Charlie Sheen has chosen a noble path.

And he’s proof that not all attractive men are dogs.

We Are Sorry for the Inconvenience

Submitted into Contest #232 in response to: Write a story set in a world with a dying sun, or where light is a scarce resource. view prompt

Jeanne Savelle

This is what we tell the newborns. We apologize for the inconvenience. We don’t explain. We just tell them, hoping that one day they will understand.We had to go underground to survive. We were the hunted, relentlessly so. That was 40 years ago, and still, we remain out of the light of the life-giving sun. There will be no reprieve. Those who remained on the surface blotted out all joy.Those of us from before, the ones who remember the sun and the moon, most of them went insane. I was there at the beginning of our exile. I was 9 years old. Now I am the caretaker of the garden that feeds our people.Early on, life was unforgiving, and I learned to be brutal, with myself of course. I had to help my mother make it through, but she didn’t, succumbing to depression within the first year. We sent the dead down the underground river that emptied to the sea, somewhere so far from our existence, it has been forgotten.My name is Amy. It’s the name I gave myself. We all gave ourselves new names for our new lives. My comfort friend chose Danny. I think he chose it for someone he knew back from before, but he’ll never tell. And I won’t ask at risk of his banishment.Danny was the key to our long-term survival. It took many years, but Danny created a way to channel filaments of sunlight through the earth and into our garden. Undetectable on the surface, these filaments swam through rock and dirt like fireflies. They tiptoed on the crowns of the plants and moved into them like blood.Once a week, we each received a shot of the golden nectar. You would enter a chamber and pull a weighted mask over your eyes. For 10 minutes, pulses of sunlight streamed through your pupils, but you couldn’t see anything, you could only feel the sun enveloping you like butter. To me, it felt like breathing water, and I carried that precious energy with me to the garden.One day, I woke in the garden to a chorus of concerns, Danny shaking me. “What?” I said. “There has been an emergency. One of our filaments has been extinguished. We’ve been exposed.” I began to cry.I felt like I was falling through sand, farther and farther, toward the other side of the universe. Danny pulled me up and we headed to the joining center. The others were there. Danny pointed to the damaged filament on our community map. It was way too close to the garden. One filament out in the garden and we would starve.The old woman, Edregon, came up and placed her hand on the map. It buzzed and set us all mute. “I will go, I’m old but I can still be useful.” Struck dumb, we just nodded and she de-materialized.Many months went by and every few weeks another filament went out, but the garden held. We took smaller plants into the chamber to encourage faster growth, but the chamber couldn’t accommodate both human and plant. We knew time was contracting and without change, we’d soon be cold little balls rolling to the sea.“I’ll go to the surface,” Danny said. Three others gathered around him, hands fluttering over his head. They draped the Savory cloak over his shoulders, chanting in their sing-song-y way and then, Danny was gone.We slept in the dark, ate in the dark, cleaned and dressed in the dark. The garden light and the weekly 10-minute blast continued but difficult decisions lay ahead.Months later, the youngest began to fall ill. The elders held them in the light chamber, but the signal was too weak to nurture both. The frailest of each melted away. By the end of the current cycle, only 20 of us remained, 4 children and no elders. I believed that both Danny and Edregon were dead but kept that to myself.On the last day of our meager harvest, smoke began to fill the garden. Smoke or steam or breath, we couldn’t tell. It smelled of animal magic and was the color of river rocks. We gathered around the garden reaching out into nothing. One by one we sat down as if hypnotized. A low hum rose and suddenly a voice boomed out “Rise children, you have been avenged.”I looked around and saw nothing but the smoke which curled and twisted and reached the cave ceiling. Drops of sunlight appeared within the towering smoke and our spell was broken. We all stood.

“What are you?” I said.

“I am the life everlasting and the death everpresent.”

“Where are Danny and Edregon?”

“They are within. Their bravery took them far, but they had to find each other to save the world.”

“Did they,” I asked?

“Oh yes, dear one, they did. They came together like thunderclap and trombone. The explosion rippled over the land disintegrating the joyless ones where they stood. But it also took Danny and Edregon.”

Everyone exclaimed and clapped their hands and screamed and yelled. WE ARE SAVED!

“No,” the smoke said. “You must carry everyone to the chamber. First, put all the children in together. They must stay in for 12 hours. The filaments are not yet restored, and it will take time to nurture them back to life. Then, you must do the same for the rest, three at a time for 9 hours. Bit by bit you must restore your balance. Do not eat, or drink, or bathe or sleep until everyone has been in the chamber.”

“Is that all?”

“No, when everyone has been in the chamber, shut it down and go to sleep.”

With that, the smoke was gone, and we began the ritual. I would go last alone. When it was done, we went to our sleeping places.

I don’t know how long we slept but we woke up together, no, not together, but as one. I woke up but I was everyone. There was no body, no cave, no garden, but the smoke returned. And there was light. I felt as if we were the light of the world, of the heavens, of all of life.

The smoke swirled around and away, leaving one thought behind: We apologize for the inconvenience, but we trust you are happy with the result. No do-overs accepted.

How is the life of go-go bar girl in Thailand?

The life of a go-go dancer is somewhat regimented, and I would say not glamorous.

They have specific working hours and set dance schedules during those hours.

Most have a time clock to punch when the arrive and leave and they are docked when they do not arrive on time, or leave early.

Not sure how it is now but most have to pay for their own costumes – nothing is provided.

There is sometimes a base salary – but it will not be much and if they want to make money then they need customers to buy them drinks and or take them home. Every time they get a drink bought for them, you get a bill and they get a token that they can redeem for cash later. Not exactly sure how much cash they get from this, but in order to keep the $ flowing they need to constantly be drinking. Yes, they can drink pop or orange juice, but many do not as the alcohol helps them to relax so they can do the job.

If the bar has ping-pong balls then a customer can buy a bucket of them and throw them at the girls and they can chase them around and redeem the balls for 20 baht/ball. (about 60 cents US).

They usually wear a bikini when working and then, when not dancing onstage they go and sit with men who are drinking and are very happy to have a bikini clad lady sitting next to them.

Note: In the bars that cater to western men, they do not have to go and sit with men, nor do they have to go home with these men if they do not want to. However, if they do neither of these things then they will not make enough money to pay the rent/eat. They are encouraged to sit and talk as it is good for the bar and for the girl when people are drinking.

They need to be happy and smiley faced ambassadors for the bar in order to attract customers into the bar and then get them to buy drinks.

They do try to lay claim to customers if they can as the customer may well be their meal ticket, but they also have to sit by and watch if the customer decided he wants to try a different girl.

All in all I would say it is a difficult life, that can be lucrative as another poster has already stated, but certainly not a good life.

Deter, no. Threaten, yes.

The typhon is an offensive strike system with a range of ~2,000km.

It is not a defensive system.

Deployed in Luzon, it allows America to strike deep within the mainland.

In principle, this is no different from China deploying dongfeng missiles on Cuba to deter America in the gulf of Mexico.

The United States will never accept such an arrangement, because the dongfeng, just like the typhon, can be armed with nuclear warheads.

Missiles in Cuba render impotent the early warning and layers of defense afforded by installations in korea, Japan, Guam, Hawaii.

Typhon in the Philippines upsets the strategic deterrent calculus. Its presence on Filipino soil will not be tolerated and may lead to fundamental damage to bilateral diplomacy, beginning with trade and a shift of military activity south of the bashi strait into the east Philippine sea between Luzon and Guam.

China can ratchet up the pressure many more notches, because it hasn’t activated any significant levers yet against bongbong’s administration.

Israeli Broadcasting Corporation: “Israel Response to Iran DELAYED . . . ” Or Genesis 34 Deception?

As of Sunday evening in Israel, the IBC reports “Israel’s retaliation against Iran has been delayed due to uncertainty about the damage the attack would leave.”    Right . . . . Not the strange earthquake in Iran that mimicked an underground nuke blast.

The report that Israel will delay its retaliation caused Iran to lift all airline flight restrictions and re-open all airspace.   which it had closed in the western part of its country.

But . . . .  is this a feint?

Did Israel put this out as “mis-information” so as to get Iran to lower its guard?  All the way back in the Bible itself, there is a story of how “Israel” tricked – and then slaughtered.

Genesis 34

Dinah Is Raped

34 Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah, went to visit some of the women who lived nearby. She was seen by Hamor’s son Shechem, the leader of the Hivites, and he grabbed her and raped her. But Shechem was attracted to Dinah, so he told her how much he loved her. Shechem even asked his father to arrange for him to marry her.

Meanwhile, Jacob heard what had happened. But his sons were out in the fields with the cattle, so he did not do anything at the time. Hamor arrived at Jacob’s home just as Jacob’s sons were coming in from work. When they learned that their sister had been raped, they became furiously angry, because nothing is more disgraceful than rape, and it must not be tolerated.

Hamor said to Jacob and his sons:

My son Shechem really loves Dinah. Please let him marry her. Why don’t you start letting your families marry into our families and ours marry into yours? 10 You can share this land with us. Move freely about until you find the property you want; then buy it and settle down here.

11 Shechem added, “Do this favor for me, and I’ll give whatever you want. 12 Ask anything, no matter how expensive. I’ll do anything, just let me marry Dinah.”

13 Jacob’s sons wanted to get even with Shechem and his father because of what had happened to their sister. 14 So they tricked them by saying:

You’re not circumcised![a] It would be a disgrace for us to let you marry Dinah now. 15 But we will let you marry her, if you and the other men in your tribe agree to be circumcised. 16 Then your families can marry into ours, and ours can marry into yours, and we can live together like one nation. 17 But if you don’t agree to be circumcised, we’ll take Dinah and leave this place.

18 Hamor and Shechem liked what was said. 19 Shechem was the most respected person in his family, and he was so in love with Dinah that he hurried off to get everything done. 20 The two men met with the other leaders of their city and told them:

21 These people really are friendly. Why not let them move freely about until they find the property they want? There’s enough land here for them and for us. Then our families can marry into theirs, and theirs can marry into ours.

22 We have to do only one thing before they will agree to stay here and become one nation with us. Our men will have to be circumcised just like theirs. 23 Just think! We’ll get their property, as well as their flocks and herds. All we have to do is to agree, and they will live here with us.

24 Every grown man followed this advice and got circumcised.

Dinah’s Brothers Take Revenge

25 Three days later the men who had been circumcised were still weak from pain. So Simeon and Levi,[b] two of Dinah’s brothers, attacked with their swords and killed every man in the town, 26 including Hamor and Shechem. Then they took Dinah and left27 Jacob’s other sons came and took everything they wanted. All this was done because of the horrible thing that had happened to their sister. 28 They took sheep, goats, donkeys, and everything else that was in the town or the countryside. 29 After taking everything of value from the houses, they dragged away the wives and children of their victims.

30 Jacob said to Simeon and Levi, “Look what you’ve done! Now I’m in real trouble with the Canaanites and Perizzites who live around here. There aren’t many of us, and if they attack, they’ll kill everyone in my household.”

31 They answered, “Was it right to let our own sister be treated that way?”

(BIBLICAL CREDIT ABOVE TO BIBLEGATEWAY.COM)

Could the Israeli’s being doing this same thing all over again; only this time to the Iranians?

Only time will tell.

My Family And I Often Teased And Mocked My Husband. One Day, My Husband Stood Up And Fought Back

Absolute Silence from NATO Meeting

Absolute Silence from NATO Meeting

Today’s NATO Meeting in Germany has an information-seal on it so tight, I cannot get even a HINT at what, if anything,  was decided regarding Ukraine’s desire to use west-supplied long-range missiles to hit Russia.

Whatever took place at that NATO meeting is apparently a forbidden subject – NO ONE is talking.

Not a hint, not a parallel construction, not even a coy hypothetical story. Zip. Zero. Nada.

I can’t even find out *** IF *** anything was actually decided!

I will persevere . . .

Ret. Secret Service Guy with Podcast says Have Preps for 3 to 6 months survival!

Ret. Secret Service Guy with Podcast says Have Preps for 3 to 6 months survival!

Bongino large
Bongino large

My entire audience knows of my work with the FBI and its Joint Terrorism Task Force, but many simply refuse to take my advice on “prepping.”  For those who won’t listen to MY advice, here’s a retired Secret Service Guy telling you have 3 to 6 months “preps.”

For God’s sake, if you won’t listen to me, listen to him!

U.S. “Surges” THAAD Missile Defense to Israel

U.S. &quot;Surges&quot; THAAD Missile Defense to Israel

THAAD File Photo large
THAAD File Photo large

The US has urgently deployed at least one Terminal High-Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) air defense battery in Israel.

The deployment of this $3 Billion system is to reinforce defenses against Iranian ballistic missiles.

This is another signal that Israeli action in Iran is expected to be very forceful and likely trigger Iranian response.

DENIED!  U.S. Defense Officials are now Denying the Deployment of a Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) System operated by U.S. Forces to Israel, despite reports from Israeli Media and Sources; however, they state a Deployment is being Considered.

BULLETIN: ISRAEL BEGINS INVASION OF . . . . SYRIA ! ! !

BULLETIN: ISRAEL BEGINS INVASION OF . . . . SYRIA ! ! !

Israel Syria Golan Heights large
Israel Syria Golan Heights large

1:47 PM EDT SATURDAY — Following Lebanon, Israel’s ground invasion of Syria has begun!

Israeli special forces have broken through the Syrian border from the Golan Heights towards the village of Qadana in armored vehicles.

The initial assault began about an hour and a half ago and has reportedly advanced at least 500 meters into Syrian territory.

This is a rapidly developing story, check back for updates. . . .

UPDATE 1:59 PM EDT —

The map below shows the area where the Israeli invasion is taking place:

Israel Invades Syria Map
Israel Invades Syria Map

Israeli troops backed by armor entered ~500 m into Syria in the S. Quneitra province. They seized an area West of Kudna, along the border fence with Golan, & bulldozed trees. No clashes with Syrian forces are reported, yet.

UPDATE 2:10 PM EDT —

The Israeli army declares several areas in the Upper and Western Galilee closed military zones.

 

SIMULTANEOUSLY, IN LEBANON –

The Israeli army is calling on residents of 23 towns in southern Lebanon to evacuate immediately.

MORE:  “Israel must also force the UN to evacuate. (UN positions on map below.) “These useless forces have failed in their only mission – to stop Hezbollah’s activities south of the Litani River.”

IDF orders Lebanese to LEAVE
IDF orders Lebanese to LEAVE

UPDATE 3:24 PM EDT —

From IDF:  Following a situational assessment, the areas of Zar’it, Shomera, Shtula, Netu’a, and Even Menachem in northern Israel will be declared a closed military zone as of 20:00 today (Saturday). Entry to this area is prohibited.

 

5:19 PM EDT —

Israel declares a state of alert in the occupied Golan Heights and asks the settlers to pay attention to the instructions of the home front

BE THAT GUY – Best Hopecore Motivational Compilation

Hound dog meets barbed quills

The Philippines does not have much intelligence value, and the Chinese government does not need to send spies to the Philippines.

main qimg a8b9b0bb367b9d0c32c26ae85ec17b3f
main qimg a8b9b0bb367b9d0c32c26ae85ec17b3f

Judging from the current international situation, the United States needs the Philippines to act like Ukraine, forcing China to go to war in the South China Sea, and then the United States gathers so-called allies to fight China, and finally the United States will reap the benefits.

China actually needs the Philippines to act like another failed Ukraine to test its military strength and rehearse for taking back Taiwan. For the Chinese, it is better to choose the Philippines as the battleground for the Sino-US rivalry than Taiwan because, after all, the Taiwanese are Chinese and the Chinese do not want civilian casualties in Taiwan. If it was a choice of two, China would certainly choose to sacrifice the Philippines over Taiwan.

Therefore, whether from the perspective of the United States or China, the Philippines needs to become the “Ukraine of Asia”, and sacrificing the Philippines is a matter of course.

The Philippines may still think that it is smart and that it is doing the right thing, but it does not realize that a great tragedy is about to happen.

Poor Filipinos, they have become the unjust ghosts of the test between China and the United States!

Twilight Zone Time Freezes

Russian Ambassador LEAVES U.S. – Takes Staff, Security, Crypto Gear and Classified Docs

Russia’s ambassador to the United States, Anatoly Antonov, is “concluding” his diplomatic mission, Russian agencies reported late on Saturday.

“Russian Ambassador to the US, Anatoly Ivanovich Antonov, is concluding his Washington assignment and heading to Moscow,” Interfax agency cited a representative of the Foreign Ministry as saying.

The envoy will be returning to Moscow within hours.

HAL TURNER INTEL:

When the Ambassador left, his entourage took with them all the communications gear, cryptographic gear, classified documents, all Diplomatic Staff and – here’s the big “tell” — the entire Diplomatic Security Staff.

It is worth noting that Japan did similar things with their Embassy staff and gear, just prior to Pearl Harbor.

“It’s Getting WORSE And WORSE…” – Richard Wolff

He’s really right on this.

Firstly, I was born and grew up in Taiwan.

Secondly, the statement “China can’t invade Taiwan” would have been true if it were made 30 years ago. It is nonsense in the current state of things.

Lastly, your question is comparing apples with oranges. China, or the typical Chinese mindset, sees these two in totally different contexts.

To China, Taiwan is a Chinese province destined to be recovered back into its fold, with its people regarded as Chinese citizens to be governed under the Chinese sovereignty eventually.

And Japan is a foreign nation that has committed massive, abhorrent, inhuman crimes against China without either fully, properly being held to account in the past or fully owning up to its moral liabilities today, while in the meantime having the nerve to threaten China’s security through tangible actions on a daily basis.

The goal of China’s “invasion”, or rather recovery, of Taiwan is to reclaim a piece of China’s own territory extorted from it by foreign imperial powers, most notably by Japan in 1895. This goal complicates the plan, as it is not sensible to bomb a piece of its own territory back to the Stone Age with thousands of cruise missiles.

China has no such scheme for Japan. Japan is not a province of China, and China has no interest in claiming its land or governing its people. To the Chinese mindset, it is just a nation that has slaughtered 30 million of its people in the most brutal and barbaric manner, and is showing increasing unrepentance and recalcitrance by the day again. If Japan ever meddles in Chinese or Taiwanese affairs ever again, what would happen?

It is like if your neighbor had killed your whole family, and now he is breaking down your door again, would you first think of how to occupy his house and make sure his kitchen remains intact so you could make dinner there tonight?

Not to mention that, you already reached a grudging truce with your neighbor that, you would let it go if he promised not to ever enter your house again. Now he is in your house again. Would you still let it go in honor of that fragile truce?

Herein lies the difference between Taiwan and Japan, in objective, and thus in degree of difficulty in action. One is much more challenging than the other, and that is not Japan.

Japan is easy.


What is Japan Likely to Do?

The Japanese know the above very well, except a handful of mouth-breathing octogenarian right-wing cockroaches still marching outside Yasukuni in imperial-era military uniforms. The other tough talking Japanese, whether it’s Ishihara, Aso, Takaichi, Koizumi, ishiba, or those saber-rattling cockroaches on the web, will all keep their heads down like mice and maggots should a conflict break out across the Taiwan Strait. None of them wants to see Japan ceasing to exist as a nation on this Earth because of his stupid impulse. This understanding will likely save Japan’s ass. If you don’t believe it, you can wait and see. It should be made obvious in pretty short order.

And China’s choice of action will be totally logical and understandable, just like the example of your neighbor above. With lessons learned twice in the past century at a price of over 30 million lives and countless properties lost, China simply cannot afford to take any chance again. Will you?

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me thrice?

Steak Diane

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15fb3b1f0dc2142bd713110ba38993a9

Yield: 2 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (6 ounce) filet mignons, thawed
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon-style mustard
  • 2 tablespoons shallots, minced
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 tablespoon fresh chives, minced
  • 1 teaspoon Brandy
  • 1 tablespoon fresh parsley, minced

Instructions

  1. Season both sides of steak with salt and pepper.
  2. Melt butter in a heavy skillet; add mustard and shallots. Sauté over medium heat for 1 minute.
  3. Add steaks and cook for approximately 4 minutes on each side for medium-rare.
  4. Remove steaks to serving plate and keep warm.
  5. Add into pan drippings, 1 tablespoon butter, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce and chives. Cook for 2 minutes.
  6. Add brandy; pour sauce over steaks.
  7. Sprinkle parsley over the top.

Wife Has MELTDOWN After Husband Lets Kids Run Wild To Teach Her A Lesson About Undermining Him

Becoming? The UK has always been poor outside London.

Think of the deep south in the USA. What do we think of.

We probably think of this

main qimg 115302bb29e56a0aec34a649e72e07be lq
main qimg 115302bb29e56a0aec34a649e72e07be lq

The UK is even poorer without London.

main qimg 714d019ce622e6a21c72a5b3c3d035bd
main qimg 714d019ce622e6a21c72a5b3c3d035bd

but here’s the thing, the UK is poorer AND stuff costs more. Think of petrol at $3 per litre.

That’s the wrong question. The right question should be this:

What is the reason behind the strong reaction of Chinese people when their country is demonized, lied about, insulted and belittled?

The answer is this:

The Chinese people don’t like to be demonized, lied about, insulted and belittled by jealous and retarded people.

As a non-Chinese who would love for the Chinese to re-take Taiwan by the simple expedient of blockading the island and starving it into submission, I regret to say that I am 100% sure the Chinese will never re-take Taiwan either by force of arms or anything else other than waiting patiently for Taiwan to rejoin of its own free will.

Why? I am not Chinese but I can think of a few good reasons –

1.Any kind of coercion of military action, no matter how quickly, cheaply or efficiently achieved, is going to leave China with a potential hotbed of dissidents, American-paid trolls, covert subversives, provocateurs and other subversives and give them easy access to the Chinese mainland. Let me simplify that by saying that China does not need to open its doors and hug a whole nest of snakes at any time in the future.

2.Regardless of how the Taiwanese regard the mainland Chinese, the mainland Chinese still regard the Taiwanese as brothers under the skin I hear. Stupid, I know, but the Chinese never claimed 100% intelligence. For China to forcibly take Taiwan with the risk of thousands of deaths instigated by America, the Taiwanese would have to do something that could over-ride the Chinese regard for a brotherhood unwelcomed by so many Taiwanese. And for all their blather, I don’t think the Taiwanese have quite sunk to the Japanese/Korean/Filipino level of intelligence yet.

3.China does not need or want to engage America on a warfront. Not ever, but most especially now or in the foreseeable future and most especially not over Taiwan, and send so many Chinese to their deaths in a war it could easily win by allowing America to self-destruct as America seems so determined to do nowadays.

4.Going to war over Taiwan would involve too much destruction of the things the Chinese have so carefully and so painstakingly built up over the last 20 years – their infrastructure, economy and heritage conservancy efforts come to mind. Re-taking Taiwan is important to Xi Jinping, I understand, but not one of his primary objectives I suspect – eradicating poverty fully, building a strong society, infrastructure and economy would be.

5.Trying to take back Taiwan would be playing into America’s hands. And the Chinese are not likely to give the American emperors that kind of satisfaction by any means.

I playfully mocked him for being ugly at a preparty with our friends but then he stood up & did this

This is a Rolex Oyster Perpetual

main qimg 06186f21029a1c9bb10badeea112c975
main qimg 06186f21029a1c9bb10badeea112c975

It costs $ 8000

It’s among the lower end watches

The Higher end watches could be as much as $ 80,000-$ 100,000

It has six key patents – Oystersteel, Everose Gold, Rolesor keys, Chromalight, RLX Titanium & Europium Dysprosium Hybridization

This is a Fake Rolex that you can buy for 1300 HKD in Mong Kok Or around $ 168

main qimg 7c7173a619c5bb0d91c118b453c421d4
main qimg 7c7173a619c5bb0d91c118b453c421d4

5% what the Lowest Priced Rolex costs!!!!

It uses 3L Stainless Steel, Gold Plated Sterling Silver, Zinc Sulfide, Aluminum 7075

The cost of materials is 17% of the price of materials in a Genuine Rolex yet the performance and quality is close to 90% of an Original Rolex

The strap of 904L Stainless Steel can be purchased for 8% of what an Oystersteel copyright Rolex strap costs

China controls the supply chain for all the basic materials needed to make watches like seven grades of Stainless steel, Zinc Sulfide, Aluminum 7075 and Sterling Silver

It can make these materials for cents on the dollar

So it can easily make a Replica Rolex that can fool all but the experts (You do have fake rolexes for as little as 200 HKD but they are obvious to spot)

So China can easily make replicas at a fraction of the cost

When i was a kid, we had a Rodgers Penknife that was a rage among my generation of army brats

It cost ₹35/- in the late 1960s

The Americans made cheaper knives called PODGERS that sold for Six Bucks!!!!

Very little difference at 1/6 the price!!!

Back then US used to do exactly what China does and the world’s replica market was based on the UNITED STATES

Parisien fashions were replicated and sold for a tenth of the price in certain streets of New York and Chicago

A $ 60 Calf Leather Gloves sold in Bloomingdale could be had for $ 8 for Non Patent Leather just two streets away with the same label

An Original Mink stole cost $ 1200 in 1920 and a Fake Mink cost a mere $ 70 – $ 120

Today China does the same thing

Uses its abundant supply chain to make replicas at far lower cost

Yeah. It was worthy of being told.

Pulled over for possible DUI

Me: May I see your license and registration?

Him: “Do you know who I am?”

Me: “You don’t know who you are? That is very serious.”

Him: “Do you know who I am?”

Me: “Sir, you must step out of your car. Not knowing who you are is possibly very serious.”

Him: “Dammit! Do you know who I am?”

Me: “Sir, if you do not get out of your car, I will have to forcibly remove you.”

Him: “F… y…”

I opened the car door, and gestured for him to get out. He did. I then turned him around, handcuffed him, and patted him down for weapons”

Me: “Sit on the curb and calm down. Once you calm down, I can remove the handcuffs.”

He sat down and glared angrily at the ground. After a bit he spoke.

Him: “I will have your badge for this.”

Me: “You don’t need my badge. You can have your own. Just complete the Los Angeles Police Academy and they will give you one for free.”

Him: “I’m gonna tell you who I am”

Me: “I just want your drivers license and registration.”

He started ranting about not knowing who he was again. So, I put him in the backseat of the patrol car, impounded his car ( we were on the freeway), and took him over to a mental hospital for a 72 hour forced commitment (5150 in California).

Two days later, my Captain called me aside. He said that was a great arrest. It turned out that the guy was one of the city’s councilman. The captain said again, “Good job.” I asked the captain if he was told to talk to me about the arrest. The captain said, “The brass told me to talk to you. I did that.” He laughed and walked away.

Spoiled Princess Rejects BF’s Proposal Telling Him To “Try Again”, Instead He Tells Her To Get Out!

Lyle Closs

I don’t like people. Never have. Arrogance, ignorance, mendacity, self-importance, superiority… I don’t like lists either.I’m not a prepper. If the end of the world comes I’ll be out on my porch with a welcoming smile. I have so little – they can have it all. It adds up to a pile of nought and a root cellar full of dust.My great pleasure is to sit out there and watch the days rise and subside, the mountains glow then surrender to the clouds. The snow falls like ash, the sun claws into my skin, the wind reaches through the cracks of my cabin, the cold informs me I am still alive.I had a family but she decided I wasn’t her type and took the kids away. I came home from the tyre factory with a lung full of carbon and a house full of silence. She left a note. It said ‘Bye’. Love died with a three letter word.I pinned the note to the front door for the landlord and drove away with my last paycheck and became a ghost of the person I had been. A ghost is a memory of someone who once lived. Seems about right.Vegas baby. A place to burn up and die. I turned the paycheck into chips and put them all on red, then red, then black, then black. It doubled each time. To hell with it. I put the lot on 23. It paid. Then black. It paid. Then 00. A ball drops into a spinning slot and you have more money than you’ve earned in your entire life.Fawning, flattering fools rose to the surface like scum from a rotting fish soup. It happens when you have a pile of cash. I’ve seen it now and it’s not just a trope in a bad movie. I’m not falling for that though. Faux admiration won’t ever open my wallet. If you need to be liked you’re just a bank waiting to be robbed.I cashed in and drove to Montana, opened a bank account in Butte and disappeared into the wooded hills. How I like it.My neighbors are bears and birds. I deal with people when I need stores. Sometimes I sit on my porch with my rifle and pretend someone is coming up the trail. I pretend to shoot them.Trouble is that fantasy would be followed by the reality of being arrested and having to deal with every kind of scum in the legal and penal system. Anyway I’ve never shot a living thing. The gun is for comfort. I like the mechanics of it. And if anyone tries to break into the cabin at night I’m ready. Just try it lowlife. Just fucking try it…Anyway, no sense getting carried away with imaginings. People imagining things is what got the world where it is today. Imagining that dealing drugs will provide a better life; that sacking half the workforce will improve the company; that beating up a woman makes you a man. If aliens investigated the people of this planet before arriving, they’d change their minds and head for Alpha Centauri. Who’d want to take over this pile of scat.Which brings me to today. It started with the powerful light shining through my window in the night. You know what it’s like. Your eyes snap open wide, your body’s as tense as a top E string. You wait for the next noise.The light disappeared. It was a starless dark night out. Low clouds. You strain to hear anything more but the only sound is the breeze in the trees. You peer out but nothing moves but the aspen leaves and pine needles.The next morning you remember it wasn’t a dream and you wander off into the woods with your coffee and toast.In a nearby clearing was a large object that I could only imagine was a radically new weapon. It was matt black, about half the size of my cabin, with projections everywhere and no clear front or back. That was just my first impression though. It looked, I realized, like a large spaceship model from a Star Wars movie. But why would a model spaceship be in a clearing in my forest?

Then a very small door opened, a mechanical arm reached out and placed a spherical object on the ground, then retracted. The door closed with a hiss. Hot damn!

The object on the ground projected a hazy light that fuzzed in the air then formed a hologram in the air. It was a weird creature which made strange noises and waved its multiple arms, bowed then sat on the ground with its ‘hands’ held open and its head bent down. It seemed to be acting submissive or at least not aggressive. I sat on the ground and sipped my coffee and took a bite of my toast as I stared at it.

“What the hell are you?” I said.

The hologram creature was about six inches tall. It watched me drinking. I put the coffee cup down by the projector. The mechanical arm came out, picked up my coffee and lifted it into the craft. Seconds later it put the cup back, empty.

“Thirsty huh?”

I put the rest of my toast and honey down. That too quickly disappeared. The hologram alien clapped its hands and bowed ecstatically. I had the distinct impression it was out of food and drink. Whatever ‘it’ was.

Then another door opened and an actual alien dragged itself to the opening. It seemed to be in bad shape. It was just six inches tall. Ugly as sin too. Just like the hologram. Slimy white skin, six eyes in the hairless head, six arms, four legs. Clothes like silk, multi-colored, all tassels and baubles. Some weird idea of fashion.

It babbled at me, a high-pitched gurling sort of speech. “You’re a damn fool if you think I can understand a thing you’re saying,” I replied.

It held up a hand – wait – and dragged itself back inside. The spaceship made a noise like an engine trying to start. The alien came back to the opening and shrugged. I wondered how many gestures were standard across the universe. It was telling me the vessel wouldn’t start. Well, there’s not a lot I can do to help. I shrugged.

It collapsed. Struggled to sit up. Draped its legs over the edge of the opening and stared at me with all its sad little eyes.

The mechanical arm took the projection ball back inside then I heard clicks and hissing and, one by one, it brought out 11 matt black spheres about 3 inches in diameter and put them on the grass. I was puzzled.

Maybe it read my confusion. The projector was brought back out and showed a hologram of an alien apparently dying. I couldn’t tell what was killing it, maybe a poison or some kind of gas. Nothing obvious anyway. It collapsed, much like my alien buddy did just now. It didn’t move though. Then the hologram wrapped the body in a white cloth into a nearly spherical shape then put the wrapped body into a matt black sphere. The arm pointed to the 11 spheres on the grass.

I pointed to the alien in the opening and held up one finger. The hologram held up one finger. Alone.

Then the last one babbled again and tried to stand up but it fell out of the opening onto the grass. I reached out to touch it. It raised it little head, held out a couple of hands and touched my fingers, then it sagged and sighed its last. Dead.

“Bloody hell mate. Don’t tell me that means you’re all dead?” I knocked on the hull of the spaceship but thing appeared.

The mechanical arm lifted the body and wrapped it in cloth, pulled out a final black sphere, gently placed the body into the sphere and closed it. 12 matt black spherical coffins.

I heard a faint humming at the limit of my hearing and the spheres sank into the ground with 12 puffs of smoke or steam and disappeared. I didn’t know how deep they went but later I checked with my old metal detector and it found nothing, so they were at least a few feet in. I imagined them sinking down to the mantel and melting in the lava.

The projector started up again and showed a hologram of an alien looking at me and shrugging. I shrugged back. The spaceship couldn’t start and now had no crew. It didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know what to do either.

If I tell anyone, the world and its military will descend on my peace and that will be the end of it. I might as well have shot someone.

But I have in my grasp the biggest event in the history of the world. Surely there can’t be just one spaceship? Is an invasion on the way? Could it be stopped if this spaceship was studied by the world’s experts? Could we learn how to reach the stars?

I didn’t think about it for long though. It wasn’t really a quandary. I moved my woodpile and it’s now covered so no-one can see it.

I sit out there most days and talk to it. Sometimes I hear soft humming like it’s still trying to start up. There’s a gap in the pile so the mechanical arm can come out any time it wants.

Occasionally it puts out the projector and the holo-alien shrugs. What can I do? I shrug back and we sit and stare at each other.

What Would World War III Really Look Like? It’s Already Starting…

Sunday, Oct 06, 2024 – 05:30 AM

Authored by Brandon Smith via Alt-Market.us,

One of the most common assumptions I come across in the survival-sphere is the idea that the next world war would automatically necessitate global nuclear conflict and a Mad Max-like outcome. In other words, a lot of people assume we aren’t in a world war until the nukes start flying and the survivors are left fighting in soda can armor over an irradiated desert. This is a dangerous misunderstanding for a lot of reasons.

What people are overlooking is the fact that we are ALREADY in the middle of WWIII. They don’t realize it because they’ve based their entire concept of world war on Hollywood fantasy.

There are many ways in which wars are fought. In our current situation WWIII is being waged through proxies like Ukraine and Israel (and maybe Taiwan in the near future). The war is also being fought on the global economic stage using sanctions, inflation and the dumping of the US dollar as the world reserve. To be sure, these situations can easily escalate into something bigger and that is exactly what I suspect they will do. However, planetary nuclear war is the least likely scenario.

Survival and preparedness communities have a tendency to hyper-focus on the obviously Apocalyptic. We talk a lot about EMP strikes and split-second grid down calamities. We talk about solar flares, overnight economic crashes and nuclear holocaust. I think survivalists do this because it acts as a mental exercise – A way to better clarify what the best preparedness solutions are in the majority of cases, including the worst cases.

But as I’ve said for many years, collapse is a process, not an event.

These things happen slowly, and then all at once. If you went back in time ten years ago and warned people that in 2024 the US would be in the middle of a stagflationary crisis with a 30%-50% average price increase on all necessities, they would probably dismiss you as a doom-monger. Well, guess what, that’s exactly what a handful of alternative economists (myself included) were doing well over a decade ago, and we were dismissed over and over again – Welcome to our world.

The reason people refused to believe us is because the danger was not immediately obvious. The economic threat was not hitting them in their wallet yet. Stock markets seemed to be doing fine. The jobs market was still functioning somewhat normally. They could only view economic crisis through the lens of a total collapse. The idea that it would happen incrementally never crossed their minds.

Even today there are still people who argue that everything is fine. The stock market is “fine.” The labor market is “healthy.” If you suggest all is not well, you’re a “chicken little.” This is the incredible danger of having a Hollywood fantasy idea of collapse. We may never get to 100% systemic implosion; but even a 50% collapse is still a survival situation.

The same dynamic goes for WWIII. We must not overlook the dangers right in front of us simply because intercontinental ballistic nuclear missiles aren’t crisscrossing the sky.

Consider the proxy battleground case for a moment.

In October of 2023 I published an article titled ‘It’s A Trap! The Wave Of Repercussions As The Middle East Fights “The Last War.”’ In it I stated:

Israel is going to pound Gaza into gravel, there’s no doubt about that. A ground invasion will meet far more resistance than the Israelis seem to expect, but Israel controls the air and Gaza is a fixed target with limited territory. The problem for them is not the Palestinians, but the multiple war fronts that will open up if they do what I think they are about to do (attempted sanitization).

Lebanon, Iran and Syria will all immediately engage and Israel will not be able to fight them all – Hell, the Israelis got their asses handed to them by Lebanon alone in 2006. This will result in inevitable demands for US/EU intervention.”

I also warned on the potential motives behind escalation in the Middle East:

The timing of the conflict in Israel is incredibly beneficial to globalists, and this might explain Israel’s bizarre intel failure [October 7th]. Just as US and British leaders had prior knowledge of a potential Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 but warned no one because they WANTED to compel Americans to fight in WWII, the Palestinian incursion serves a similar purpose.”

I my article ‘Iran vs Israel: What Happens Next Now That Shots Have Been Fired?’ published in April, I predicted:

A ground war between Iran and Israel is inevitable if the tit-for-tat continues, and much of it will be fought (at least in the beginning) in Lebanon and perhaps Syria. Iran has a mutual defense pact with both countries and Lebanon is generally a proxy for Iranian defense policy.

Iran will have active troops or proxy forces in all of these regions, not to mention the Houthis in Yemen striking ships in the Red Sea. There are questions in terms of how Iraq will respond to this situation, but there’s not a lot of love between the current government and Israel or the US.”

Not surprisingly there was a contingent of people that argued these things would “never happen” and talk of war between Iran and Israel was “doom mongering.” Those people were wrong (yet again), and I was right. Iran and Israel have now essentially declared war on each other and are exchanging missile barrages as I write this. The ground war will begin in Lebanon and expand from there.

Just as in Ukraine, the looming danger is that war between Israel and Iran will draw in larger military powers like the US and Russia.

People dismiss this outcome because their modern conception of global war needs to change; this world war will not be fought exactly like those in the past.

This time the weapons of mass destruction will be financial and resource driven instead of nuclear. If Iran moves to blockade the Strait of Hormuz (which I believe is imminent), Americans can be harmed financially through energy shortages and gas price spikes even without our soldiers deployed to fight.

There’s also the question of our wide open borders and how many potential terrorists slipped into the US during the Biden Administration’s illegal immigration bonanza. How many attacks (or false flag attacks) are being organized right now?

The regional conflicts could spread and go on for a decade or longer. It all adds up to a world war, but it may never be officially declared a world war. Perhaps there will be a limited nuclear event somewhere; maybe a false flag or a limited strike. But a nuclear war is not necessary to create the kind of chaos the globalists are looking for.

People also need to understand that the powers-that-be also have a lot to risk should a war devolve into nuclear exchange. If it was really that easy for them to launch warheads, wipe out the majority of the human population and then establish a global dynasty, they would have done it a long time ago.

Global war on such a scale is inherently unpredictable. The elites have spent trillions of dollars and the better part of the last century constructing the most complex surveillance and control grid in history. It would be foolish to turn it all to ash in the blink of an eye and I highly doubt that’s the plan. They would be putting themselves and their legacy at risk of being erased forever.

Does this mean I will be ignoring the potential for a nuclear event? No. I will always keep it in mind and have preps ready just in case. A single nuke set off anywhere west of your home could result in radioactive fallout that would take around three to four weeks to dissipate. That said, the danger of these sceanrios might be overstated.

Here’s an interesting fact to ponder: The US government has tested at least 1050 explosive nuclear devices over the decades. Around 216 of those were atmospheric tests that resulted in massive fallout across the country. Some people in close proximity got sick over many years from these tests, but they didn’t result in an overnight mass death event. Perhaps, at a moderate distance, these weapons are not as dangerous as we’re led to believe?

The greater effect of nuclear weapons comes not just from the resulting damage to national infrastructure, but also mass psychological disruption. The economic system would take an immediate dive from even one strike, and it could be anywhere in the world. A single nuke in Ukraine would send shockwaves through already unstable markets.  The supply chain and food supply could be quickly disrupted.

If the globalists wanted to accelerate a worldwide collapse, they wouldn’t need a nuclear war, just one well placed device.

The biggest danger from WWIII is not nuclear exchange, but the disturbing changes societies go through when conflict inspires mass fear. Totalitarianism is much easier to institute during such a war. Freedom of speech is often suppressed and criticism of the government is often criminalized. People who rebel against this are accused of “working with the enemy.” Military conscription is usually enforced and young people are sent off to die overseas over a conflagration that makes little sense.

The economy nose dives and the supply chain tightens. Price controls and rationing are initiated. Black markets flourish but those who participate are aggressively targeted by the government. In the case of the US, armed revolution in many states is a certainty.

Public planning should focus far more on these eventualities and less on Hollywood images of Apocalypse.

Shorpy

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STAR-BABES & STARSHIPS 5:- HIGH-OCTANE SCI-FI ADVENTURE

His Ridiculousness Justin Trudeau Has Resigned

Good to hear that His Ridiculousness has finally deigned to resign from his post as Prime Minister of Canada.

Trudeau was of little importance to people outside of Canada. I have never written about him. But I will remember him for his fake wokeness which was as authoritarian as his use of emergency powers against truckers who protested against Covid restrictions.

 

trudeau
trudeau

Justin Trudeau and family meeting a native of India
biggerArend Feenstra, a Canadian, who, with his wife and eight kids, has recently emigrated to Russia, feels relieved:

Trudeau’s reign of terror is finally coming to an end! Many Canadians have seen their lives dramatically altered over the last 9 years, savings wiped out, health destroyed… feeling helpless and hopeless, many of us have fled to other countries in order to keep our children safe. Although Trudeau’s resignation will not undo all the damage that he has done, it is a great start and hopefully the beginning of an end to the destructive and divisive liberal policies that have destroyed the Canada we all knew and loved. May God continue to bless all our beloved Canadians this year and may good overcome evil!God bless you all! We wish you a merry Christmas and a wonderful new year from our new home here in Russia!

Arend’s family has a video channel, Countryside Acres, on which they document their life. Their latest video, posted just two hours ago, is a review of their first year in Russia:

Posted by b on January 7, 2025 at 15:25 UTC | Permalink

Samba Steak stir fry

Seasoned beef strips stir fried to perfection with vegetables, then topped with pico de gallo.

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518524d954c81ab6e9c0211b791445aa

Prep: 18 min | Cook: 12 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

Pico de Gallo

  • 3/4 cup chopped tomatoes
  • 1/4 cup chopped white onion
  • 3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
  • 2 teaspoons minced jalapeño pepper
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
  • Salt

Beef

  • 1 pound round tip steaks, cut 1/8 to 1/4 inch thick
  • 3 teaspoons vegetable oil, divided
  • 1 1/2 cups thinly sliced bell pepper, any color
  • 1/2 medium white onion, cut into 1/2 inch wedges
  • 1 medium jalapeño pepper, thinly sliced
  • Salt
  • 8 small whole wheat tortillas (about 6 inch diameter), warmed

Rub

  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground chipotle chile pepper

Instructions

Pico de Gallo

  1. Combine tomatoes, onion, cilantro, jalapeño pepper and lime juice in a medium bowl. Season with salt, as desired.
  2. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.

Beef

  1. Stack beef steaks; cut lengthwise in half and then crosswise into 1 inch wide strips.
  2. Combine beef and rub ingredients in large bowl; toss to coat evenly.
  3. Heat 1 teaspoon oil in large nonstick skillet over medium high heat until hot.
  4. Add bell pepper, onion and jalapeño; stir fry for 5 to 8 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender. Remove from skillet; keep warm.
  5. Heat 1 teaspoon oil in same skillet until hot. Add half of beef; stir fry 1-2 minutes or until outside surface is no longer pink. (Do not overcook.) Remove from skillet; keep warm.
  6. Repeat with remaining 1 teaspoon oil and beef.
  7. Return all beef and vegetables to skillet. Season with salt, as desired.
  8. Serve beef mixture in tortillas; top with Pico de Gallo.

I’m With the Banned

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Imagine a world where exploration is forbidden, and write a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy their innate curiosity. view prompt

Jeremy Stevens

This story contains sensitive content

This story contains leftist political hot-buttons. Do not proceed if you are easily offended.“Do you promise you won’t leave me?”“Baby, how many times I gotta say it?”“More times than you have.”“I promise. I’m not going to leave you.”“It’s just…everyone I’ve ever loved has left.”“I am not everyone.”“And if we do this…”“Ssshhh…you talk too much.”“Just, go slow, ‘kay?”“You got nothing to fear.”—–“And you met him, where?”“At the dugout…”

“I mean, where, the first time?”

“Online.”

“Where online?”

“CuddlesClub. He said he was fifteen though…”

“And how long had you chatted with him, before…”

“Two months, maybe?”

“And when you met him…”

“He could have been fifteen, maybe.”

“But he wasn’t. You knew this, right?”

“Yes.”

How did you know this?”

“Just the way you know things.”

—–

“But she’s only twelve.”

“The State does not give her permission.”

“She was raped.”

“Better than being a murderer.”

 

—–

Noam is playing with blocks on the floor. He uses them not only to build, but to spell. His latest word is “dim”; his phrase: We are a dim lot. Noam is going on four.

 

Naomi and I are cuddling on the torn loveseat. She entered my life when Noam was born. I am sixteen now; Naomi is nineteen. Naomi named him Noam, said it was a good name, said it meant “pleasantness” and that Noam Chomsky said we are born with “innate linguistic aptitude.”

 

“It’s a silent ‘fuck you’ to the suppression from the State,” she told me.

 

I didn’t get it at all then. I get it a bit more, now.

 

Naomi kisses my cheek, and hums Jack Johnson: …it’s so much better when we’re together.

—–

We are huddled in the shanty. The rain has finally stopped, so Naomi has gone out looking for food. So long as she stays to the alleys, she should be fine. Better food there, anyhow. Lots of restaurants; lots of waste. Last week her foraging yielded an unopened bag of pre-cooked, deveined, tail-removed shrimp. Noam found it delightful.

 

I was twelve when my parents were imprisoned. My father’d called the judge a sick beast and away they went, both of them. I was sitting behind them with some person in a white robe.

 

Now now, she tapped my knee. Now now.

 

I was fat with child and my back hurt. Heavily medicated, I haven’t much memory of those times. Naomi says there’s much we are not allowed to do. Being together is one of them.

 

“What happens if they find us together?”

 

“Just stick to the script.”

 

But Naomi is white, which is also a problem.

 

“Who’ll believe we’re sisters, Naomi? You’re white and I’m…”

 

Naomi just kisses me then. It is a hard kiss. Passionate. She grips the nape of my neck and puts her forehead to mine. “Sweet angel, I do so love you.”

—–

 

At four, Noam is still a thumb sucker. Despite our attempts at potty training he still has to wear diapers, and still Noam cannot speak intelligible words. His block spelling has plateaued. While we have no reliable source for nutrition, Naomi is resourceful and provides our RDA of the necessary food groups but still Noam’s eyes are jaundiced, his gums are bleeding, his skin is scaly. He’s been given to highs of rage and lows of slurping depression. He’s pulled out most of his hair; his fingertips and nails are nubbbed from scratching our earthen floor. I’ve tried to love on him —we both have— and sometimes he’ll relent but more often he’ll gnash and growl.

 

“What do you think the problem is, Naomi?”

 

“How well did you know his father?”

—–

 

It was on one of her last forays that Naomi returned with books. “I found them in the dumpster,” she exclaimed delightedly, “all brand new.”

 

Governor DeSatanist. We both knew it, but we dared not speak of it, FOR JESUS CHRIST HATH DECREED THAT the right the abort, the right same sex, the right to read, THE RIGHT TO EXPLORE OPTIONS are no longer rights, but SINS, all in the names of murder! defilement! propaganda!

 

“Oh, Naomi, what beautiful treasures. The Giving Tree. What in the world?”

“Sexist.”

Exploring Civil Rights: The Movement.

“Racially motivated.”

Bridge to Terabithia? I loved this book.

“Promoting the occult.”

Where the Wild Things Are.”

“Again. Too demonic, they say.”

“All of these were tossed? The Outsiders (too violent!), To Kill a Mockingbird (too mature!)…oh, I love this one but never heard of it: My Moms Love Me.”

 

We both looked down at our four-year-old, teething on a sandal.

—–

There is heavy foot traffic outside our tin-roofed shanty. They are marching in unison. Regimental, a tap-tap on the door: big bad white men instilling fear in two biracial dykes and a bastard invalid. We know why they are here. Surprised it took them so long.

 

The walls of our shanty are now lined with books: banned books, we assume, for they’d all been discarded. Several months ago, we’d opened our doors for exploration, purely word of mouth quite naturally as we —Naomi and I, and Noam— are not known to exist, not any longer. (For it’s been assumed, we assume, that we were wiped clean during the last fumigation, we fitting all their criteria of filth, after all.) Prior to finding us, our people had been fed the The History You Need to Know twenty-volume series; The Jesus Christ Giver’s Guide: How to be a Good Citizen; and The Lives of Hunter and Paisley five-volume series (Birth-Elementary Homeschool; Homeschool in the Neighborhood; College is not Necessary; Adulting with People Like You; Growing Old Quietly and Respectfully).

 

For the past several months, though, we’ve allowed our people to travel, to read with delight words that are actually said, emotions that are actually felt. Our people have been able to find comfort in words, healing words, words that have allowed them to transcend the NORM and to explore the lives of others, the majesty of foreign lands without the privilege of escape from this, our “home of the free because of the brave,” words and emotions that are now SINS because…because…

 

is there one right answer here?

 

Because independent thought is treachery. An enemy of progress.

 

Because “who controls the past controls the future, and who controls the present controls the past.” Because “the best books are those that tell you what you already know.”

 

Orwell, too, has been banned, of course. But we have him in our library.

Had, for we have been discovered.

—–

 

We are not going to be stoned, or burned like witches. We are not going to the rack or the gallows, or the chair. We are not going to be strapped to a gurney and punctured with needles. We are not going to be shot, or even gassed.

 

Our “fumigation” is the now-proverbial Jim Jones’ Drinking the Kool-Aid, though still we get to live, very much like the donkeys at the end of Pinocchio, also banned for its debauchery on Pleasure Island: as sheep in the fields, after the surgeries are complete, we shall follow without question, we shall bleat unintelligibly, we shall chew the cud from dawn ‘til dusk with those indistinguishable from ourselves.

 

We shall cause no further problems. We shall be obedient.

On my anniversary, he gave me a gift box but when i opened it, it were pictures of me & my affair

https://youtu.be/C4fgZ56gjl0

After F-35’s Detected, Israel Preparing Large Surface-to-Surface Missile Launches at Iran

After F-35's Detected, Israel Preparing Large Surface-to-Surface Missile Launches at Iran

After the Russian government alerted Iran to the approach of four F-35 stealth jets toward Iran from the Persian Gulf yesterday, which reportedly caused an abort to that mission, Israel is now preparing surface-to-surface missile launches.

Information about Israel’s ballistic missile capabilities is sparse, but here’s what we know about the “likely” missiles to be used, which is speculated to be “Jericho II” missiles, seen in the FILE PHOTO above.

The Jericho II (YA-3) is a solid fuel, two-stage long-range ballistic missile system and a follow on from the Jericho I project. As many as 90 Jericho 2 missiles are currently based in caves near Zekharia (Sdot Micha Airbase), southeast of Tel Aviv.

Jericho II development began in 1977, and by 1986 there were reports of test firings. According to Missilethreat.com, a project of the George C. Marshall Institute, there is evidence the Jericho II originated as a joint Israeli-Iranian project, cooperation that ended with the loss of friendly relations after the 1979 Iranian Revolution overthrew the Shah’s rule.

There was a series of test launches into the Mediterranean from 1987 to 1992, the longest at around 1,300 km, mostly from the facility at Palmachim, south of Tel Aviv. Jane’s reports that a test launch of 1,400 km is believed to have taken place from South Africa’s Overberg Test Range in June 1989.

The Jericho II is 14.0 m long and 1.56 m wide, with a reported launch weight of 26,000 kg (although an alternative launch weight of 21,935 kg has been suggested). It has a 1,000 kg payload, capable of carrying a considerable amount of high explosives or a 1 Megaton yield nuclear warhead.

It uses a two-stage solid propellant engine with a separating warhead. The missile can be launched from a silo, a railroad flat car, or a mobile vehicle. This gives it the ability to be hidden, moved quickly, or kept in a hardened silo, largely ensuring survival against any attack. It has an active radar homing terminal guidance system similar to that of the Pershing II, for very accurate strikes.

The Jericho II forms the basis of the three-stage, 23 ton Shavit NEXT satellite launcher, first launched in 1988 from Palmachim. From the performance of Shavit it has been estimated that as a ballistic missile it has a maximum range of about 7,800 km with a 500 kg payload.

The Jericho II as an available Israeli counterattack option to Iraqi missile bombardment in the 1991 Gulf War is disputed. Jane’s at the time believed that Jericho II entered service in 1989. Researcher Seth Carus claims that, according to an Israeli source, the decision to operationally deploy the Jericho-2 was only made after 1994, several years after the Scud attacks had ended and a cease fire and disarmament regime were in place.

Raytheon Technologies, quoting Soviet intelligence archives, showed them believing the Jericho-2 to have been fully developed weapon in 1989, but did not indicate when it was available for deployment.

Investigators for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace accessed commercial satellite images of the Sdot Micha Airbase near Zachariah, a suspected Jericho missile base, comparison shows expansion between 1989 and 1993 of the type that would accommodate suspected Jericho II launchers and missiles. Such an expansion would be more consistent with a post-1991 deployment chronology.

It is presently unknown how many such missiles Israel has.

US Military Sending More Assets

Additional Aerial-Refueling Tankers with the U.S. Air Force are enroute to the Middle East this morning, possibly ferrying a Squadron of F-22s, F-16s, or F-15Es which the Pentagon had previously stated would be Deploying soon to the Region.

Shown below, two KC-46A Pegasus tankers (reg: 20-46074 & 20-46073) from McGuire Air Force Base One C-5M Super Galaxy (reg: 86-0012) One C-17A Globemaster (reg: 01-0188) likely heading to the Middle East:

US refueling tankers huge cargo planes to ME
US refueling tankers huge cargo planes to ME

WaPo Editors – Ending The War Is Worse Than Losing

The Washington Post editors have long argued for prolonging the war in Ukraine.

In November 2022, when Ukraine was in a good position to negotiate an end to the war, they argued against it:

Mr. Zelensky and his supporters in the West undoubtedly understand that peace talks might eventually be necessary, his commitment to victory notwithstanding. And yet to declare that, or even imply it, before the time is right — before Ukraine’s armed forces have exhausted every opportunity to regain occupied territory — would convey slackening commitment. And that, in turn, can only convince Mr. Putin that time is on his side and that he should prolong the fighting.

Since then Ukraine’s armed forces have exhausted every opportunity to regain occupied territory – and failed. Russia was then and is now convinced that time is on its side.

Now, finally, the editors acknowledge that their war against Russia in Ukraine is lost. But they still insist that this can not be allowed to be formalized in a ceasefire or peace treaty.

While they are stomping their feet they fail to present an alternative:

Ukraine risks losing the war. A Trump-imposed bad deal would be worse. (archived)
A settlement that dismembers Ukraine and rewards Putin will undermine U.S. credibility.

As Russia is the dominating power in the war in Ukraine there will only be one deal that can be had. It will be along the parameters the Russia’s President Putin has laid out. That deal will certainly be less than optimal for the U.S. side but how would it be ‘worse’ for Ukraine than losing the war?

As for ‘credibility’:

A pullback now would convey that the United States and its allies lack staying power and that their promises come time-stamped as valid only until the next election date. How might China take such a message as its autocratic president, Xi Jinping, contemplates whether to make a military move to try to seize the self-governing democratic island of Taiwan?

The U.S. ‘lack of staying power’ is a feature of its democracy. It is well known that U.S. citizen’s opinions about supporting a war tend to change over time. Just ask the Vietnamese or the Taliban for experience with this. No unrealistic fear mongering about China will change that fact.

It is however good to learn that the editors (finally) see the situation of Ukraine as unsustainable as it is:

Ukraine is also losing troops at a rate far beyond what it can sustain and continue fighting. The official casualty estimate of 400,000 killed or wounded is considered a vast undercount. Thousands of exhausted Ukrainian soldiers are deserting the front lines.

The editors know that it is over for Ukraine but they still reject to acknowledge the consequences. They say that a deal over Ukraine, any deal, would be bad but there is not even a hint of what an alternative might be:

Ukraine can hardly survive another year of this devastating war. But the haste to find a negotiated settlement could produce a bad one that would reward Mr. Putin for his land grab and guarantee he will launch a new attack for more territory once he has a chance to rebuild his depleted arsenal. A poor settlement would also leave Ukrainians bitter after seeing their homes, schools and factories destroyed, and friends and family members killed. Much of their anger would be directed at the Western backers who betrayed them. This is a fight America, and Ukraine, cannot lose, especially with a bad deal.

The war is lost. A hasty settlement will be bad. Russia will be embolden and the Ukrainians will be sad.

But what else is there to do? The editors don’t know. They thus close with a sentence that does not even (‘cannot lose’) make sense.

Posted by b on January 7, 2025 at 16:38 UTC | Permalink

My Cheater GF Loses It After I Pretend To Be In An Open Relationship For 2 Months And Then Dump Her

Head games are terrible. Do not do it.

Harsh lessons learned while in a harsh place

China’s red line was for the US to not go beyond the 38th parallel line. Therefore the US was badly beaten.

main qimg 3c7a9c652e12aa7d4ada2c99dbbea0e8 lq
main qimg 3c7a9c652e12aa7d4ada2c99dbbea0e8 lq

My GF Tearfully Blamed The Hallmark Channel & Red Wine After Cheating Cost Her A Ring

Yes

The same old nonsense of the working population collapse

Let’s study first whether indeed there will be a catastrophic collapse and why only China will be affected

What does decline in working population mean?

It’s simple

It means that in an Economy – the people who work and earn a living are becoming lesser and lesser while those who are dependent on those who work and earn a living – are becoming higher and higher

This ideally happens under 3 Conditions:-

A. Rapidly Ageing population due to dramatic rise in standards increasing lifespans to a large extent

B. Rapid rise in Childbirth, almost at 3.5–4 times the normal rate

C. Major War with a lot of conscription and deaths

Obviously B can be ruled out for China and C is highly unlikely given that WWII type of decimation is unlikely unless Nukes are used

So that leaves A – Rapidly Ageing Population

Now the general belief is that today there are 272.66 Million people older than 55 years old today

That’s 19.26%

It is estimated that this number is likely to rise to as much as 32.02% by 2054 and 41.04% by 2075

Let us look at the five things about China that nobody else or very few know about:-

A. Chinese Retire on an Average at 55 years – 58 Years against 64–67 Years in Western Nations.

So today there are almost 59.8 Million Chinese who are deemed RETIRED in China but who are deemed WORKING in the West

If you just change the 55–58 into 64–67 , the numbers change to 15.92% in 2025, 26.36% in 2054 and 34.59% in 2075

This alone sees the working population rise from 46.8% in 2075 to 53.8% in 2075

B. Chinese have a largest savings in the planet – Typically a Chinese saves 45% against 19%-33% by Western Nations.

Thus Chinese Elderly People have extremely comfortable savings as compared to Americans or Europeans who have very little savings

C. Healthcare, Education and Food Distribution is STATE OWNED in Entirety –

Unlike the US where a Doctor can charge a Million and a Half Bucks for a procedure, in China everything is State Owned and Capped

Thus the Cost to keep an Old Man healthy is much much cheaper than in the West

Likewise Education is State owned and Food is price controlled – so Feeding people is much much cheaper in China and Educating Kids is also much cheaper

So the cost of keeping an Old Man alive is less than maybe a third in equivalent terms to keep an Old Man alive in US or Europe

D. Older People are changing generation by generation

Those who will turn 60+ in 2030–2050 would have been born post 1970–1990 and there would be a 64% chance of them being an Engineering Graduate and 35.3% chance of them being a an Engineering Post Graduate

They aren’t the same old people today who were born between 1930–1950 who are less educated, peasants and mainly laborers in a China where the middle class was barely 5%

The Quality of Elderly will rise dramatically, they will be investing and playing a far more proactive role in Society than today’s 60–90 year olds

Just look at Myself, Nagarajan Srinivas and Gopalkrishna Vishwanath and Subhash Mathur

We are far more active, definitely invest more, and play a proactive role in society than three 70 year olds in the 1990s

Unfortunately those who are Actuarians presume the Old People will always be the same dependent older generations, not realizing that the newer generation of older people would be far more proactive

Imagine someone like Anbazhagan Ambrose or Ravi Sundararaman in their sixties or seventies

They would be even more proactive

Same with China too

E. Work and it’s Nature will transform completely

Impossible to believe today’s definition of WORK is the same as that of 2075

For the same analysis – let’s see the ideal job in 1973 China and most Chinese were farmers or worked in State owned industries as longshoremen or unskilled laborers

In India the middle class were Govt employees and Teachers and others were farmers and tenant laborers and daily wage laborers

Today it’s different

It will be way different in 2075

Manual Jobs would be at an all time minimum and most jobs would need skills and analysis

So a large working class population would be a major NEGATIVE not a positive

The US Port strike against Automation is the best example

No such strikes in China

They love Automation for the exact same reason

So no need to get too worried

My guess is somehow if the world moves on past 2030, China will be in the best position by 2075–2100

Emily Heneisen

I duck behind a crumbling wall, dropping to my knees on cold dirt. The sharp edge catches my shoulder, the jagged brick ripping open my skin. Burning pain shoots through my arm, a silent cry squeezing its way through my throat. And that’s all it is: a soundless echo of pain, a reverberation that I refuse to give voice to. I clamp my mouth shut, hoping my moment of shock was inaudible in the night air. The taste of metal– of copper– coats my mouth and I realize I’ve bitten my tongue in the frenzy. I open my mouth again and spit crimson onto the dirt. Cody always said I had the grace of an elephant. Here I am, proving him right. My large belly doesn’t help matters; it is both my greatest blessing and most frequent inconvenience. But I won’t trade my baby for the world and neither will Cody. Despite the fire crackling underneath my skin and inside my veins, I will myself to breathe slowly through my mouth. I’m quieter this way, harder to track down.I made sure to cover my tracks when I escaped the citadel, but it was difficult to avoid the mud puddles near the outer rim of the city. I hope they couldn’t see any tracks in the darkness. Only the wealthy can afford fire or lights, and the cost is steep. The death of the sun forced new generations to be born with bigger eyes and better senses. While I can see faint shapes and outlines, I rely mostly on my other senses. I was born into the eternal night, and the absence of the sun is as normal to me as breathing, but that doesn’t mean I want the same for my son.These soldiers are older and less evolved to the permanent darkness. That’s why, if I can remain quiet, I have a chance of escape. The entrance of the alley will look like nothing more than a shadow on the bricks. The soldiers may be tasked with hunting me and retrieving what I stole, but I know they won’t waste their precious fire to find me. It would cost them more to replace a matchstick than the reward for my capture is worth. If they knew what was in my pocket, though, they would use all the torches in their arsenal.I hear hurried footsteps down the street. I press my back onto the brick wall, perhaps hoping to sink into it altogether. My pregnant belly sticks out far, too far. I may as well call out to my pursuers altogether. I turn my body so that my back faces the entrance of the alley. The position is risky. I can’t see anything but the dead end in front of me, although I suppose it won’t matter if they catch me. I am a mouse caught in a trap, and I’m praying for the cat to miss me. I push against the brick until I feel the pressure of a metal canister digging into my hip. I’m not sure what happens if the metal cracks, but I don’t want to risk finding out. As the footsteps– a lethal thunder of raging soldiers– draw nearer, I cease breathing altogether. If they find me, if they notice the tiny alley I’d taken cover in, everything we’d done for the past two years would be for nothing. All the planning, the observing, the fighting… all in vain if I was caught now.Flashes of green eyes pull me from my fear. His infectious laugh and his sideways smirk fill my senses. Cody. I have to escape the city for him, for our baby. He already laid out the plan. Now, I just have to follow it. I repeat the plan in my head, focusing only on him as the army gets closer to my position. I squeeze my eyes shut as the stomping grows louder and louder, nearer and nearer.And then they pass by, as though they can’t see the alley at all. I don’t feel the heat of torches, either. I was right. I stay in the alley for a few minutes as the army shuffles by, oblivious to the thief only a few feet away. They would kill for the canister in my pocket if they knew what was inside. Cody and I had killed for it. Now, I just have to get to the meeting point and it will all be over. We’ll be free. I wait until the marching is gone entirely. I will not risk a stray guard turning to find me. When I leave the alley, the street is empty once more. I dart across the cobblestone road, cutting across the path I was taking earlier. Cody meticulously crafted our plan, and I’m following it with precision. My heart clenches at the thought of him. He’s still in the citadel, distracting government leaders with that charm of his. They don’t know he’s in on the plan. Hopefully, they won’t discover his betrayal until we’re already beyond the towering walls of the city.I stumble through the small, humble town, a stark contrast to the towering, glass buildings and crystal chandeliers further south. Once, when the sun still lit up the sky, the citadel may have been beautiful. It is nearly impossible to see it in the dark. Now, it is remembered for its cold cruelty and busy noise. Perhaps the glass buildings are prettier than these wood cottages, but I’ll always associate them with the icy indifference of the government that now hunted me.I weave through side streets to avoid the market squares. They’re small, but even a few extra people is a risk I’m not willing to take. The path is winding, constantly taking me through narrow passageways. Some are merely cramped, but others force me to enter them backward to avoid crushing my stomach. Narrow, indeed.“Almost there,” I dare to whisper. I don’t know if I’m reassuring the baby or myself. The cobble road morphs into a wooded path, the stones fading into the dirt and grass. I stand at the entrance of the northern forest, a few miles from the citadel. I turn, and I can see the large screen above the main tower, a giant square of black that barely stands out from the night sky behind it. They only turn it on when they need to broadcast an important message. Anything else would be a waste of light. I face the woods again, and I can make out a tiny cottage just past the tree line. It’s worn down, the thatched roof caving in on the right side. Whoever lived here before had been gone for a long while.Once inside the cottage, I can barely make out shapes. The dim light of the moon doesn’t reach through the trees, and I’m left in pitch black. I feel my way around the room, stumbling into forgotten chairs and a dusty table. Suddenly, a bright light shines through the broken window. The screen above the citadel illuminates the sky. My heart sinks as I see the face displayed for the whole city to see.Traitor. Cody Fletcher is executed on charges of treason.Executed. I can’t breathe. Cody didn’t make it out in time. Those emerald eyes… I’ll never see them again. He’ll never hold me close or brighten my day. He’ll never meet his son.I reach into my pocket, pulling out the metal canister. We spent years planning this moment. He is supposed to be here with me. We knew the risks when we started the whole damn thing, but I never expected to lose him. I sink to my knees in the cottage as the light on the screen shuts off. The world was horribly quiet, and dark. So, so dark.“You’ll grow up knowing your father did everything for you,” I whisper down to my belly. “This was all for you.” I twist the top of the can open, and sparkling gold washes over me. For the first time in my life, I bathe in the warm glow of real sunlight. We never found out how the government obtained it, but we didn’t care. I am holding the only remnant of our dead star. Hopefully, my son will grow up in a world of light and happiness, and not the cold dark that I am accustomed to. Looking at the golden light, I think of Cody. His smile was just as bright as the sunlight pooling against the metal of the can. I prayed he would watch over the baby and see that our plan worked.

Badly Attacked! Assassination Attempt on Ibrahim Traoré as West Goes Insane!

Someone bumped into my car and refused to pay for the repair, so I had to sue. She said I didn’t stand a chance because she worked at the country’s biggest car insurance agency and had access to the best of the best in terms of preparing for the trial.

This was small claims court, so no lawyers allowed, but she brought one of the agency’s lawyers anyway. Both of them yelled against me throughout the hearing, hardly letting me say a word. In addition, I was not up to par language wise because I’d only lived in the country for a few years. The judge limited herself to listening to them and nodding.

At last the judge turned to me. All I could utter was “B-but this is how trials are held in this country? Whoever yells more wins?!” to which the judge said “Exactly. That’s what I wanted to say – that is not how a trial works.” She then explained (for the sake of educating the public, as judges are supposed to do when appropriate) all that the woman and her lawyer had done that is forbidden in a courtroom. She also ruled additional compensation for me as punishment to them.

I lived in Tokyo for about 12 years and in Beijing for about 5. I left Tokyo for Beijing. I currently live in Shanghai. My answer to your question is ‘neither’… but if my choice was limited to these 2 cities and my work/life offering being perfectly equivalent, I would probably select (again) Beijing.

As most people pointed out, the biggest drawback living in Beijing is the pollution. That is the key reason I moved to Shanghai. Beyond that, the 2 cities are so different you will find good and bad things on both side and your choice will be determined by other factors than the cities’ features.

Choosing Tokyo instead of Beijing may seems a no-brainer considering the quality of services, internet ‘freedom’ and the visual/culinary esthetics of Japan. Talking Japanese is far easier to learn than Chinese among many other advantages that I am certain many will point-out and I used to appreciate greatly.

But…

These capital cities and their respective countries are currently taking a very different trajectory. China is generally progressing while Japan is taken into a slow spiral of regression which is painful to watch.

It’s easy to live well in Tokyo if you create your own comfortable bubble and blind yourself from the massive pile-up of social and environmental issues Japan is stacking against itself. By all means, choose Tokyo if you plan to live this way.

I personally prefer to be surrounded by optimistic Beijingers who have witnessed rapid positive changes and have become accustomed to try and integrate new ideas.

Beijing is not the rest of China and many massive, morally challenging (to say the least) problems are left to be addressed. The question is, do you prefer to be living in a place climbing rapidly upward or moving slowly downward?

I was a teenager.

I was attacked by a very large group of youths/teenagers/men it was 10+. It was pretty relentless. I remember my vision going blurred and it going pink before being knocked unconscious.

I woke up black and blue in hospital with a lot of broken bones and pretty much had to undergo multiple surgeries to put me back together again. Apparently they were jumping up and down on my head. To this day parts of my body hurt from this and some of the scars are still there despite 30+ years of fading.

My father saved me by going out and smashing the attackers to bits making them run away.

The police were not particularly interested and nobody was ever charged with it. The attackers actually were called cowards because they had to gang up on me. We moved away from that area and after that we always kept guns in the house. I kept guns in my homes.

I bounced back by simply living well. I recovered enough to go to 6th form college, but decided to explore a bit. I ended up meeting Liam setting up my own business and out performing every single one of those people almost all of them went on the dole and stayed there for the next 20 years 😀 :D.

It’s funny too as these useless fucks who’ve done nothing but suck up dole money think they’re the master race. You’d be surprised how many british are you deserved to be attacked! Only whites can live in the UK!

I laugh even harder as their country declines.

Woman Plans Girls Trip Without Him knowing and He DUMPS Her INSTANTLY

In my opinion, the US military is in decline…

  • it has a recruitment and morale crisis
  • it has a maintenance crisis, where ships and planes are heavily backlogged
  • it has not faced a peer adversary militarily since the Second World War
  • it has not had a significant military victory since the Second World War—it lost in Vietnam and Afghanistan!
  • its advanced military tech has reliability issues (e.g., the USS Gerald R. Ford’s EMALS and the F-35)
  • the Pentagon conducted numerous war games involving China and found that China won in every instance!

China’s military is extremely capable…

  • China has 232X the shipbuilding capacity of the USA, according to a leaked US Navy briefing—this means that China can much more easily replenish its lost ships
  • China bristles with A2/AD missiles, including hypersonic ones
  • China has the world’s largest navy, including formidable ships like the Type 055 heavy destroyer, the Type 052D destroyer, the Type 003 aircraft carrier, etc.
  • the J-20 Mighty Dragon is a frighteningly capable stealth fighter every bit the equal of the F-22 Raptor—and China has many more of them

A war in China’s own backyard gives China an overwhelming home field advantage. The US military would have a serious logistical problem.

In 2013, I got an excited call from my mom. She told me “I’ve won $2 million in the lottery, well, there’s a two in there somewhere, and I’ve decided to give it to you! I know you want to buy a house so badly.”

OK. I said I’d be right over. Arriving at my mom’s apartment, I saw her holding a large manilla envelope with “OFFICIAL DOCUMENT” and ”YOU’VE WON!” printed on it. On closer inspection, of course, there was tiny type that said “if you are holding the winning numbers.” The appeal on the inside was for her to send $25 “for processing.”

I looked down at a pile of mail that had accumulated mail. There were several envelopes like this one; apparently they hadn’t convinced her she was a “winner.” I also discovered that she had been sending blank checks to pay her bills, and had been putting all purchased on her credit cards, which now had a combined balance of over $20k. She could not write a check, but she knew how to get to the mall and whip out a piece of plastic.

I scolded her. I told her an educated woman like her should know a scam when she saw it. I think I even wrote “official document” on a napkin to show how it worked. I proceeded to toss all the envelopes in her recycling bin.

Mom yelled and lunged at me, recuing the lottery envelopes. “Someone has to win, and it could be me!” Her best friend was coming for dinner that night. I told her to please ask her friend (a younger and sensible teacher) about her opinion, and to gt rid of these if Friend said so.

I went home knowing what I suspected was true. Mom undeniably had dementia. She had been acting erratically for a few years, but I chalked it up to “mom being mom” and mom’s insistent “I’m old, of course I forget things!”

It took me all of 2014 and into 2015 to get her diagnosed. Finally, in February of 2015 she had an unexplained fall in her apartment, breaking 3 ribs. Her landlord, who heard her yelling and called me and we went to the ER. That incident was the first domino in me getting her tested for dementia (she failed the 30-question, getting an 8 out of 30. I got an MRI and a referral to an excellent neurologist and assessment program for mom.

That was the beginning of my journey with what was my mother’s frontotemporal dementia. Mom grew steadily worse, going from needing one aide in her home to requiring two aides (available 24/7) in a dementia facility. Mom gradually lost her ability to speak, then recognize me. She died in December of 2019.

I assumed her death would close a chapter and I would start over. It didn’t work out like that. Once mom was dead, so were so many relationships I had built over the years. All of her friends who would regularly call me to see how mom was doing (or to ask if I would escort them for a visit) stopped contact after the memorial service. What was left of my family declared “the holidays were always about seeing mom, we’re making other plans.” I got one letter from a far-flung relative of mom’s who told me “dementia sure runs in the family!” Hoo boy. One Quoran went so far as to suggest I already had dementia, based on their review of my personal account; the question was not about dementia.

I’m now 63 and I’m really lonely and afraid. I told my doctor and my son about my concerns. How do I know if I’m developing dementia if I live alone and am not in regular contact with anyone? I had a few bad falls in my old apartment, so I moved to a first-floor unit. Also, for all our disagreements, I miss my mother. That’s the one person you know “has your back,” at least in a decent familial relationship.

You really never get over losing your parents. I tell my adult son all about my childhood. I told him where our house was, the beach down the street were I spent my summer days and the woods were I rode my horse. One Christmas, my son gifted me a map of my hometown. Interestingly, the map cut off the area of where my house was, it just showed the downtown area. Of course I told him I loved it, but I also realized that nobody really cares about my childhood story.

Shorpy

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Yes.

By the way, so was the war in Afghanistan. And so was the war in Vietnam and so was the war in Korea.

My father fought bravely in Korea. He was bayoneted in the middle of the night at the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir — twice. Once, in the groin. He somehow barely survived. (Miraculously? He first woke up in a hospital in Los Angeles, 28 days after he had been bayoneted twice.).

My father somehow survived. He would never talk about it, and I did not learn that until about 12 years ago.

My father died three years ago — in 2021, at age 93 — but my dad would also be the first to explain in great detail how that war was a ridiculous, and unjustified war. He was proud of his duty, and was proud of his service to his nation — but he would also lecture you extensively how the U.S. has absolutely no justification for sending ground troops into that mess.

He would tell you the same exact thing about Vietnam, and also about Afghanistan, and about the second incursion into Iraq. With full detailed explanations. The U.S. military had no business being in any of those four locations.

Period.

R.I.P., dad.

And, thanks.

HUAWEI’s New 4nm Chip Just SHOCKED The World… NO ONE Expected This!

Not a General, an Admiral. In the mid 90’s I was testing a freshly overhauled F404 in the test cell, at NAS Lemoore CA. Recently the AF had crash landed a C-21 (Lear 35) in Fresno, the local news portrayed the pilots as heroes because they “rode it in”, a Lear has no ejection seats. So anyway, I am putting an engine through it’s paces in the test cell, and through the reflection in the observation window I notice a few people quietly step in and are standing there. I am at full power, full afterburner, running high power tests. After bringing the engine back down to idle, someone asks “So what’s your job here sailor”, with out looking away from my instruments I respond, “I’m trying to blow this engine up”. Next I hear someone loudly clear their throat, I turn the engine over to my assistant, turned in my seat, and there, standing behind me, the Base CO, my Div O, my Master chief and….“Commander Light Attack Wing Pacific Fleet” Admiral Idon’trememberhisName. I snap to, and the Admiral says “Care to expound on that answer sailor? Thinking fast, I respond with “Well Sir, if I can’t break this engine, none of our pilots can, and no Navy jet will have to crash land in downtown Fresno”. He gives me a hard stare, smiles and says “Good fucking answer”, turns and walks out without another word. Please upvote, if you do like. Comments and questions welcome! Have a GREAT NAVY DAY!

Comedians That Stood Up AGAINST Woke Culture

Nazi Germany allocated great resources to infrastructure during WWII. Flak towers are one of these.

Anti-aircraft tower (Flaktürme) in Vienna.

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main qimg e90edb5224752b957ca1b07a874c3051

These towers were built to defend the Reich Empire from British air raids. These complex structures inclued radar stations within. These towers are considered urgent and top priority so all the related raw material (cement, pig iron etc.) was directed to these constructions. However apart from towers in Berlin, Hamburg and Vienna, other projects had to be cancelled due to shortage of raw material and funds.

10 feet thick concrete walls were unassailable for ordinary bombings. The anti aircraft guns situated on top of these towers were very effective since they can create no-fly zones when concentrated their firepower. For example the three towers formed a safe triangle over Berlin from Royal Air Force. These towers could be used as bomb shelters that can house thousands of people during air raids.

These towers were so impregnable that during the Battle of Berlin where there was no hope for Nazi capital’s survival, these towers could not be taken by Soviet Red Army because of their thick walls. The Soviets did not bother to waste valuable ammo on these towers and bypassed them in their quest to capture the Nazi capital. In the end the defenders had to surrender when they ran out of food and water.

All in all these giant towers exist today because it is too costly to demolish them. The lesson that can be learnt about their ordeal is that they served their purpose well.

Your housecat is by nature a scavenger, typically only hunting when the opportunity presents itself.

Left to forage in the great outdoors, they won’t necessarily pass up a festering carcass.

…which is another reason in addition to predation and traffic that indoor cats typically lead longer, healthier lives.


Personally, I’d be far more concerned about my felines eating highly salted fish or bulb vegetables than room temperature meats, but I also wouldn’t give them ANYTHING that I’d be scared to eat myself.

The two hour maximum for unrefrigerated food is a good rule of thumb for both people and pets.


Don’t squander those 9 lives on base negligence.

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main qimg da315c2d693c220120b61829a4195cbe

Can you explain what Pattaya, Thailand is like?

The sun goes down and the lights come on along the Pattaya foreshore

I lived in Pattaya for seven years. I’ve heard it said, more than once, that Pattaya “is the world’s biggest brothel.” No doubt there’ll be people who’ll be offended by this statement. They’ll offer up a myriad reasons why they consider Pattaya to be one of the best places in the world to reside. For those who live there, or spend extended periods there, then this is understandable. They’re just protecting/defending their home turf.

The sign says it all

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main qimg d1b2e89e3ee3286e0e6e1983372b1d4f

The reality of Pattaya is it’s predominantly an adult entertainment/nightlife spot. The Beach front area, and the adjoining streets and laneways, are crammed with beer bars, gogo bars, massage parlours, and nightclubs, which are staffed by ladies who provide sexual services, for a price. This is an undeniable fact. The focal point of Pattaya was, is, and will be this beach front zone. Tourists who come to Pattaya, gravitate to this area for fun and entertainment. This area, and it’s associated support busnisesses of hotels, restaurants, cafes, and beauty shops, is the life blood of the town. There are other areas, such as Soi Buakhaow, which offer a similar entertainment services, albeit at a less expensive price, for long stay foreigners.

A typical bar scene in Pattaya

This in itself isn’t a bad thing. The town provides a service/location where single, foreign males can go for a paid for sexual liaison. It’s also an industry which provides employment for undeducted girls from the northern provinces of Thailand. For the most part, the girls working in the bars of Pattaya are from the rice farms of Isarn. Their motivation for choosing to work in these bar areas is simply poverty, and nothing else.

The girls along the avenue

The beaches of Pattaya, compared with Hua Hin and Phuket, are hardly remarkable. If you understand geography, then this isn’t difficult to discern. The coastline on this Gulf side of Thailand is shallow. Even when the tide is in, you’ll need to wade at least fifty meters from the shoreline to be in waist deep water. Because of this geographical constant, the water tends to be murky, warm, and unavoidably polluted with run off and plastic. Even over in Jomtien, which is considered a cleaner beach area, if you swim with goggles the amount of plastic seen on the seabed is quite shocking.

Along the Pattaya foreshore

If you reside in Pattaya, for any length of time you’ll come to understand it’s a bakingly hot place, especially from March to May. The landscape is predominantly flat. Yes, there’s a hill/peak which forms a headland between Pattaya and Jomtien but this is an isolated geographical feature. The surrounding landscape is flat and scorching. Compounding this is the radiated heat from the concrete urban sprawl. For this reason the majority of foreigners residing there will either stay at home in the afternoons, or head to the air-conditioned relief of shopping malls or bars. And therein lies the crux of Pattaya. Because of the unrelenting heat of the place, life tends occur from late afternoon and into the night. Once again, the inescapable fact is that Pattaya is predominantly a night time/night life location.

A great spot for a few sun downers.

Because of the heat factor, those participating in outdoor activities, such as golf, tend to do so in the mornings. Beach joggers can be seen along the foreshore in the mornings. No one, certainly not the locals, goes jogging in the mid-afternoon heat. For a foreigner, residing in Pattaya, their day might look something like this: 1. Get up mid morning and head to a restaurant (the Pig and Whistle or the Victoria) for a western breakfast. 2. Meet with friends for a coffee, late morning. 3. Go to an airconditioned shopping mall (Central or Big C) for lunch. 4. If you’re health minded, go to a gym in the afternoon. If you’re not health minded, go sit in an outdoor beer bar along Beach Road, or some other drinking establishment which expats frequent. 5. Late afternoon, go for a massage (with or without extras). Rinse and repeat.

Resident expats meet for a coffee and a chat

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Foreigners who reside in Pattaya long term, for the most part, tend towards an alcohol based lifestyle. Many end up being alcoholics. Long term, if you value your health, you’ll eventually move to either Hua Hin or Phuket. Both of these locations have cleaner air, a greener landscape, and less polluted seas.

Safe travels,

Mega.

James, the cat with a bank account ! =:)

Actually the story goes back further than that, and to my first pet, Bubbles. A Black and White Domesticated cat. It was an act of rebelling by my sister and I again our father who as small children wouldn’t let us have a pet greater than a goldfish.

I was turning 18 (so legally and adult (and my sister had always known I wanted a pet cat- ideally black, but when we got the cat rescue centre (RSPCA) although I liked a black cat called Solo, I was prised away by my sister and the Manager of the centre to take Bubbles. A great softy of a cat and had been given up as a result of her original keeper being elderly and going in toWarden Assisted Accommodation, where pets were not allowed. Must have been a heart-breaker for her and Bubbles clearly missed her to an petted me as opposed to the other way around.

There was just one problem she was already 8 years old (mid-mice [sic] crisis for cat -:) ) I was only 18 so not a brilliant salary and worried about vets bills particularly, I had looked at Pet Insurance and found it absurdly expensive and so many clauses and disclamers, it had more holes in it than a cooking sieve. So really not worth the paper let alone price it was written on

At the time I was working for a bank, an we had special terms on our bank account, notably no overdrafts, declaring where all money paid in to the account other than Salary had to be verified and origin. Although that sounds invasive, actually it was for our own safety that ALL transaction were checked in case as staff you were being bribed, money laundering under duress, indeed illegal trading or blackmail.

In fact, so strict were the rules that if you did go overdrawn in the morning and had not put cash in to cover it, or confirmed where the money had come from, then it could be Summary Dismssal. So the idea of not bein able to afford Vets fees or food for my moggy, was a serious matter (in my view.

So with the advice of my line manager opened a special savings account for the cat. For legal reasons obviously the cat could not technically have an account in her name specifically. The way my Manager got around this (and later turned out to be the loop hole) that I made the account in my name, but as a Trustee of the cat (Bubbles). That way the cat now had her own money in law, albeit under my name as her Trustee. This was great as could now put money in to her account each month, and build up a reserve to pay mum for he cat food and litter, and also a fund for any vets fees. Far cheaper than pet insurance, AND the money was available. Having made the cat as a beneficiary of the Trustee the interest was Tax Free too ! -:)

I later left the bank and moved in to another sector and transferred the account to a local branch.

The title of the account was “ Richards, Re: Bubbles.

Bubbles went to the great cat basket in the sky (bawled my eyes out over that cat ! ) but found another one from this rescue centre who was called “James”. He was totally black, and fur like a panther; purred like one too. He had been taken back to the rescue centre a couple of times as he kept fightin with other animals. This didn’t bother me as Iive on my own,,James very independent, even learened how to open a window with his paw, climb over threshold on to aledge drop on to a porchm then down to a rubbish bunker and to the gound. An ovrerall fall of 25 feet, but in 3 parts. Cats as we know are very supple and drop down easily. I later discovered that he could jump from the ground, to the bunker and ultimately back to through the window.

Cat-door issue solved, height above ground level and the porch roof pitched and covered in moss , slippery. So along with very narrow window an adult too heavy and would slide, and only a child would be able to get in through the window. Even a 10 year old would be nervous at that height let alone crawl through a high, narrow window. Safe for me and James.

Back to the bank account. The account had to be suspended and re-named as in law James, indeed Bubbles had/were legal entities. The bank (knowing the joke of course) placed now James as the beneficiary off the Trusteeship. The account continued as it had with Bubbles. When I went in to the branch to draw money the cashiers asked if James alright had he needed the vet or was this for food. Indeed during an internal audit, they made me bring James to the branch to verfy him”. Of course I could see the joke so complied. If course James had never had so much fuss . I later found out that they had taken a photo of him an sent it to Head Office for the bank Journal.

I had an emergency crop up, where my mother was taken ill in Europe so needed to leave the Counry fast. The Company I was on contract to were brilliant, understood the sitaution and got a replacement temp in, did a quick hand over and went home to pack and catch the flight – actually the company had reserved the seat for me so I just paid them the ticket money and all the documents were at Secure Handling. Passport and on to the plane.

Family emergency sorted, and back home about three weeks later, picked up my car and then suddenly realised that I didn’t have GB£ on me, and the only money I had was in James’ Account. So had to leave him at the cattery.

The advantage of this savings account was that you could got to a branch and draw money no matter where you were in the UK. However it did have a floor limit, which if exceeded had to be telephoned to the holding branch for further verification and clearance for the funds to be released. The holding branch of course knew the joke about James. So as a joke on me and the branch I was drawing the money through the girl who had taken the passbook for clearance, called me back to her till and said:

“The branch have asked for further information as this an unusual transaction for you and want to know James’ date of birth and his relationship to you”.

I told her straight faced that James was a Black Domesticated, shot-hair cat. Thinking I had “lost it”, smiled wrote the information down and handed it back to the clearing clerk, also looking perplexed and started talking to the home branch who confirmed that James was indeed a cat, and yes I had the authoirty to draw the money. So laughs all around.

Roll on 12 months in to the new financial year and UK Tax Office sends me a letter statin that during a random audit, I had an account in Trusteeship for James and wanted confirmation who James was his age and whether the interest was taxable. So I sent the passbook off, along with James’ Adoption Certificate (in the UK when you take a dog or cat from a rescue home you have to provide details identification and where live and in effect do adopt the cat. And yes, they do check to make sure that the animal is OK a couple of weeks down the line by turning up randomly and wanting to see where the animal sleeps his food is kept an whether registered with a vet.

So that is how seriously the UK take their pets. -:)

Back to the Tax Office where have sent all this information and for a laugh sent a picture of James along with he adoption certificate, pass-book and certificate of interest of interest from the bank.

A phone call was received from the Tax Office to “confirm a few things” (think to test my sanity to be honest -:) and asked why I had the account and having confirmed with the adoption papers wanted to make sure that James was under 18, which he appeared to be in the picture, that was confirmed and clearly had spoken with my bank.

I got a letter back form Inland Revenue that as James was under 18, he was now deemed to be a “Minor in pertuity” (which is legal terminology for bein a “child for life”.) Thanked me for my compliance and would not be making any further enquiries from now on! Also any interest reported would be retreated as non taxable as it was for the cat’s (child) benefit -: )

So just shows if you play along with the UK Inland Revenue, they do have a sense of humour.

Seriously all this is true. James, the cat with a bank account.

Beef Borguignonne

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bef34088f4ab66f882f223c5ccb444db

Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) lean beef chuck, cubed
  • 1/2 cup shortening
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon thyme
  • 1 cup beef consommé
  • 2 to 3 cups dry red wine
  • 1 (4 ounce) can mushrooms or 1/2 pound fresh mushrooms, sautéed in 2 tablespoons butter
  • 12 small white onions, parboiled

Instructions

  1. Brown meat in shortening; add flour and seasonings. Stir well. Pour into 2 quart casserole.
  2. Add broth and wine.
  3. Bake for 2 hours at 300 degrees F.
  4. Add mushrooms and onions. May add more broth and wine, if dry.
  5. Bake 1 1/2 hours more, perhaps lowering oven temperature.
  6. Skim fat from gravy.
  7. Serve with mashed potatoes, noodles or rice.

Star Wars A New Hope – 1950s Super Panavision 70 | Runway Gen 3

Just Hangin’

I guess with that idiotic arrogant cruel entitled mindset that you are referring to the USA.

The USA has just has its ass whipped again by a bunch of poorly armed, unsophisticated peasants in Afghanistan, as happened in Viet Nam and Korea. How and why it assumes that a truly cruel vile evil proposition like this could succeed against a highly organised, sophisticated, vast, nuclear armed country like China is beyond the scope of rational thinking.

Four-Onion Steak

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668116104b4fbd70186f92bdbb5e1b37

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (12 ounce) boneless beef top-loin steaks, cut 1 inch thick
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 large white onion, thinly sliced
  • 1 medium leek, thinly sliced
  • 2 shallots, chopped
  • 1/2 cup beef broth
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/2 cup sliced scallions
  • Scallions, sliced into 3 inch pieces (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cut steaks into 4 portions.
  2. Combine garlic salt, chili powder, pepper and cinnamon. Use your fingers to press mixture onto both sides of each steak portion.
  3. In a large skillet cook steaks in hot oil over medium heat to desired doneness, turning once. Allow 8 to 11 minutes for medium rare or 12 to 14 minutes for medium.
  4. Transfer steaks to a serving platter, reserving drippings in the skillet. Keep warm.
  5. For sauce, add white onion, leek and shallots to skillet. Cook and stir over low heat for 5 minutes or until onions are tender.
  6. Add beef broth and Worcestershire sauce. Cook and stir for 1 to 2 minutes more or until broth is slightly reduced.
  7. Add scallions. Spoon onion mixture over steaks.
  8. Garnish with scallion pieces, if desired.

Kishore Mahbubani REVEALS China’s Strategy to Counter the US

I absolutely did. On January 21, 2023, I crashed from complications due to Delta Covid. Prior to being revived, I have vivid memories of knowing I was dead. I will tell you that I went somewhere horrific, and disconnected from all that is holy. I heard those closest to me say things like “at least she’s in a better place now”, as I’d dealt with decades of severe mental health issues and suicidal ideations. I heard them walk away for what I believed to be the very last time. I was in a dark room beneath the ICU, tied down in a chair. There was an evil presence, and other details I won’t go into now. My voice was mute. My screams, silent. I have never felt such agony as knowing that was the last I’d ever hear them, and I had no voice to scream, “COME BACK!! I’M NOT IN A BETTER PLACE!! PLEASE DEAR GOD DON’T LEAVE ME!!!” The belief that I had went to hell, and my loved ones assumed I was in Heaven was the worst part of it all. Knowing I was there, and no one knew. Forever. That it would never end. I cannot even begin to put into words the agony and torment, as I can assure you that there is nothing on this earth that can even come close to comparing to that horror. I read once about a woman who was held captive for many years on end by a man and woman who kept her in a box beneath their bed. For whatever reason, I can relate this most to her story, only at least she could hold onto the tiniest amount of hope that perhaps someday she’d know freedom. But where I went, even the tiniest of hope did not exist. Thankfully both her and I recieved that freedom. I woke up a different person. In the 18 months since my NDE, I have found God and am no longer suicidal. I had a laundry list of complications brought on by Delta Covid, including Sepsis, Septic Shock, Staff, MRSA, Double Pneumonia, and failed liver and kidneys. I was in a coma for several weeks and was on bedside dialysis. I woke up unaware of where I was or what had happened to get me there. I have no memories of being sick, and even the couple of weeks leading up to being life-flighted are wiped clean. At first, I assumed I must’ve been in a car accident. I had a tracheostomy and could not communicate in the weeks following waking from the coma. My body was too weak and shaky to use a pen, as we tried without anywhere close to success. I was determined to get off the vent so that I could tell of what had happened when I died. I can’t explain how odd it was to be holding onto that alone, while my loved ones visited my bedside and I had no way of telling them that I had been changed. I had seen hell. I was given a second chance, against all odds. I had a total of 17 specialists, many informing my family (and myself) that they witnessed nothing short of a miracle. My body was described as “on fire”. I had a preconceived notion that doctors were purely science-minded, but my doctors gave all the credit to God and my will to live. The odd thing was that I’d just gotten out of 7 months of in-patient treatment for wanting to end my life, so hearing it had ANYTHING to do with my will to live was such dark humor!! It was God, as He worked through the hands of my doctors. I came out of it realizing that both science and God can be true at the same time. God works through others. Next time I die, I plan on going to Heaven.

BREAD GREATEST HITS. (WITH LYRICS) NON STOP.

The Sinners of a Planet Gone Dark

Submitted into Contest #232 in response to: Write a story set in a world with a dying sun, or where light is a scarce resource. view prompt

Susy G

[Content warning: mild physical violence, death]Apocalypses don’t happen in sudden, drama-injected catastrophes like in the movies. They happen slowly—painstakingly—while half of the planet tries to convince the other half that it’s all a hoax, that the sun can’t possibly go out, that it’s just a government plot to drive up stock prices or hide trackers in our drinking water or whatever the conspiracy theory of the day is.The sun might not have technically ‘gone out’ yet, but it’s close. Each morning grows that much darker. Kids don’t even know what seasons are anymore.I always thought that if there was an apocalypse, if the zombies did rise up and eat us all, I wouldn’t want to survive the first wave. What kind of person would want to stick around for a zombie apocalypse and spend the rest of their miserable life alone and perpetually afraid of their own shadow?Well, now I know the answer. It turns out that the human brain has an incredibly strong desire to stay alive, regardless of the circumstances. Sure, I know the sun is dying. I know the world will freeze even more than it already has done and it will only be a matter of time before we slow to a crawl and die gruesome deaths. But my brain hasn’t quite cottoned on to that yet, so it forcibly keeps me alive. It’s determined to score front row seats for the end of humanity.And if I am going to stick around . . . well I’m going to make the best of it.It was clear from the outset that even at the end of the world, humans love to place value on random commodities, even if the commodity might not seem like much on first glance. Plants, for one thing—real, natural plants—soon became the treasures of corporations once they realised that they would be a rare phenomenon, destined to be locked away and auctioned off to the wealthy just to satiate their need to find new ways to prove their meaningless fortunes.But apparently plants don’t just sit there and look pretty. The black market seems to think that their DNA is a vault of information and the promise of scientific advancement—if you know how to unlock it. At least, that’s what my buyer told me. And now, that plant DNA is priceless to those heroes who are still trying to save what’s left of the planet.Who am I to argue with the experts?It’s time to wake up and smell the apocalypse. What billionaire ex-politician is going to care about a missing plant when they’re going to die just as horribly as the rest of us ordinary folk? I wasn’t always a thief, but as the doomsday clock ticks down lower and lower, the less I can find the ability to care about the morality of it all.I got into this business for the money at first, but when the concept of money and cash stopped meaning anything, I kept doing it anyway as if to prove a point—that no amount of high security fences or vaults or sirens would be enough to protect them from the same fate as us. Everyone else around here knows that their homes are viable targets for looting; why should it be any different for them? With each score, I dragged them back down to the reality of living on this broken planet.This one is no different. The thrill is addictive, cutting up fences and shooting down cameras as though they would be an effective deterrent for any thief worth their salt. I’m a machine of instinct and adrenaline. I slip through lasers and bypass security barriers like a river in a gorge. On a planet full of death, I feel like I’m the only human left who is truly alive.The first security guard catches me by surprise, but my survival-bent brain reacts before he can. Complacency gets thieves killed, and gut instinct brings the gun from my holster and shoots the security guard before he can do anything to stop me.I wasn’t planning to encounter anyone today, let alone commit murder. I should be flattered that this target perceives thieves like me as such a threat that they would go to such ridiculous expenses as hiring security personnel—very much a dying breed in an apocalypse—but all I can think as I continue through the dark compound is how little value is placed on the lives of these people. I reason with myself that if these security guards wanted to stick around this long for the apocalypse, that was their choice. Actually, if you think about it, I was saving them from having to experience the final apocalypse—that by shooting them in the head, I was performing a kindness.I’m not very persuasive, as it turns out. I send up an apologetic prayer as I propel each guard I encounter to somewhere better than here.A new train of thought keeps me focused as I continue my executions through the dimly lit corridors. If God is real, and all this is just another Biblical flood, and some guy called Noah has built a spaceship to rebuild humanity after the sun finally dies . . . well, I wish Noah success in his spaceship-building endeavours. But I also feel for the people who weren’t saved from the flood and who won’t be saved now, those who have sinned and will feel God’s wrath as a result. Who is Noah to decide who lives and dies? Doesn’t watching the rest of humanity die and doing nothing to save them constitute a sin in itself? If Noah is as damned a sinner as I am, then I will sin until the bitter end, and if God made us in Their image, then They too must be a sinner.Therefore, God would want me to steal this bloody plant.

I wasn’t born a thief. Believe it or not, I used to be a Pilates instructor before the world went to pot. We always knew that the sun would die in our lifetime, so I’m not sure what got us to the point where people stopped caring about personal fitness and the rule of law. All I know is that with every governmental collapse, with every frozen, deadly winter, with every suicidal cult that sprung up and promised a pre-apocalyptic death free of pain, the world felt that much smaller, and consequences became a rarer occurrence. Each winter inches us closer to a world-ending ice age, and when it’s the end of the world, concepts like ‘morals’ are the first to go. So I’m just here to make the most of it. It’s either that or sit around and wait to die. You might have your sainthood intact if you chose that route, but you’d also die a lot quicker from starvation or hypothermia if you never stole anything. It starts with a blanket, a bread roll, something you can trade for a hot meal, and then before you know it, you’re sneaking around a former world leader’s private compound on a murder spree so you can sell his prized potted plant on the black market.

As thoughts of morality and the road from sainthood to sinner spiral around my mind, I finally arrive at the vault, where the plant awaits rescue. I shove on a pair of sunglasses. They’re hard to come by these days—what use would a dark planet have for darkening the world even more?—but I know that real plants need a great deal of artificial light to keep them alive, so I came prepared. This might be my first plant heist, but I don’t intend for it to be my last.

I blast open the iron doors of the vault without much difficulty, alarm sirens blaring in the darkness. Dust spills into the air from the explosion, and I am thrust into the whitest light I have ever seen. Fortunately, the sunglasses do their job, and I see three silhouettes racing towards me, boots clanging on the metal floor.

I reach for my gun, but another guard tackles me from behind and wrestles me to the floor. He must have followed me, chosen not to engage, knowing I would be facing further resistance within the vault itself and would not be expecting anyone to attack from behind. I usually manage to avoid physical altercations, but desperation spurs me to fight back. That damned survival instinct kicking in again.

He might be bigger than me, but I know the weak points of the body. An elbow to the eye shatters his sunglasses and causes him to pull his arm back to cover his face, providing me with the space needed to roll out from under his grip, save him from the apocalypse with my gun, and face my three remaining opponents.

I have a second to take in my surroundings. The vault is enormous, more like a chamber, and it is filled to the ceiling with deep green plants. The blueprints didn’t indicate the size of the vault or its contents, but I couldn’t have imagined stumbling into a veritable rainforest. It’s been years since I’ve even seen a picture of a real plant, and this guy has a whole ecosystem hidden away in his basement. And for what? Status? Pride? Just because he can? Within milliseconds, anger and despair consume me. The apocalypse isn’t just the sun going out, the oceans freezing over, and the descent of everlasting darkness—it’s people like him, hoarding extortionate amounts of wealth just so he can go to meet God with as much superficial power as humanly possible. Has no one told him that we don’t take material possessions with us when we die? Stealing to survive and drag the wealthy back down to earth is one thing. But hoarding this? This is far beyond any concept of survival. This is greed in its purest, most meaningless form.

The heroes operating within the black market would keel over at the sight of all these plants, and probably declare that humanity finally has a shot at salvation. I’m not so sure that humanity is even worth saving at this point.

Maybe I’m starting to understand Noah’s perspective.

The instinct to survive kicks in again, and I shoot at the guards despite myself, but my gun clicks, jammed.

Divine intervention?

I dive out of the guards’ firing range and get close enough to engage in physical combat instead, but I am a thief, not a fighter. I have completed countless jobs, but none of them involved a physical fight with more than one person at a time. Like I said, security guards are a dying breed, so physical confrontations are few and far between.

I manage to thrust the butt of my gun into a guard’s head, kick another in the groin, hurl my fists into the other’s lower back, continuously moving so they don’t have enough time to aim and shoot me. I take more blows in return than I can count. Blood—I’m not sure whose—sprays onto a nearby leaf. Then, one of them manages to reach for my sunglasses and rips them off before I realise what’s happening.

My eyes scrunch shut without any control at the sudden injection of light, and the guards waste no time at my hesitation. One twists my arms behind my back and kicks me to the floor, a boot pressing against my lower spine to keep me there. My shoulder sockets burn at the strained angle.

I inch my eyes open millimetre by millimetre until I can see a guard with his gun pointing straight at me. The remaining guard stands further back, speaking indistinctly into a radio.

The guard in front of me takes his final aim, and somehow I smile to myself, panting, blood dripping from my mouth. Finally, that damned survival instinct subsides. My brain has finally stopped resisting, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace than I am in this moment.

It looks like I’ll miss the apocalypse after all. I almost think I was actually looking forward to it in the end, just to see what it would feel like after all these years of build-up. Typical of me not to want to feel like I’m missing out. Maybe that’s what’s kept me alive through it all.

I chuckle and crane my neck up to the ceiling, towards the Great Sinner, finally ready for my appointment with Them.

Ex-Husband’s Afterlife Confessions to Matt Fraser!

This is a great question. I have a perfect answer for this

This Son of a Bitch, Woodrow Wilson:

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main qimg 673570164c1746280ec7d226d9cd5e2a lq

I am honestly baffled that anyone would put this piece of shit in their top 10 favorite presidents. Some historians rank him as the best behind FDR, Lincoln and Washington. There were so many bad things he did and it would be an essay in order to list down EVERY bad thing he did. So where do we start with this Bastard

-He segregated the Government

-He Brought new live into the KKK, ultimately setting Civil Rights back another 50 FUCKING YEARS!

-He promised to keep the United States Out of the Great War, Only to Declare War. Him saying he would keep us out of war was the reason why he won the 1916 election.

-He passed out the Sedition Act of 1918 Which Banned Freedom Of Speech

-He passed out the Espionage Act of 1917 which prohibited people from obtaining information from the National Defense

-He supported eugenics

-He forced many soldiers to fight in WWI with Influenza and was responsible for the death of millions

-He was involved in the Treaty of Versailles which lead to Hitler and WWII

-He smiled when Theodore Roosevelt died. That’s disgusting

-He lead the Palmer Raids

I’m sure there’s much worse about this asshole but I could still keep typing until the day I die when I list every bad thing from Woodrow Wilson. If I ever had an excuse to ever go to hell, It would be to knock his rotten teeth out of his mouth. I hate him with a passion and sorry If I seem so unprofessional about this but He really did that much bad for us Americans. And what’s also the point in liking Woodrow Wilson when FDR was similar in polices but unquestionably better than him in ever since of the word better.

What’s the most badass thing your boss has ever done?

There was a time when I was working a maximum security prison. This was the top of the line for inmates just shy of death row. We held a lot of people sentenced to multiple life sentences, fifty years and more.

A trick inmates like to play was to feign a medical injury then when staff opened their cell, said inmate would jump up and start fighting.

I had one inmate on my block and he was gargantuan, easily six foot five and three hundred pounds. Had he wanted to he could have incapacitated me by just knocking me down and sitting on my chest for three minutes. He looked like Fezzik from Princess Bride.

I knew that he was being interrogated for serial killings linked to him by the FBI. If they could crack him a couple life sentences would be added to his twenty year stretch. He had nothing to lose.

To add insult to injury, life threw him a curveball. His mother died and he was locked up, unable to see her. When I heard this I was convinced he would at the minimum attempt a suicide.

My prediction seemed to come true when I heard another inmate in the neighboring cell calling my name. I walked over and he pointed towards Fezzik whose cell was next to his. I shone my flashlight in and he was lying on the ground motionless.

Following policy I called in an emergency alert to the unit. We were short staffed, so short staffed that two sergeants came by to help. I was starting to think that Fezzik had snapped and the second we rolled his door that we would be in a clobbering match with a man three times my body size. All I had was some pepper spray and a vest.

We rolled his door and there was a massive pause as we all looked around to see who the unlucky bastard to go into the cell first would be. I will admit that bastard was not going to be me.

A small sergeant, a man called Sgt. Click didn’t hesitate, not even beyond one second. He was shorter than me and had no gear but he went head first into the cell, towing what I imagined to be basketball sized steel testicles in his pants. Fortunately for us, Fezzik was not looking for a fight. He had taken his frustration out on the cell wall, slipped and knocked himself out cold on the cell floor.

We got him out and to the hospital wing. I had nothing but the highest respect for Sgt Click after that.

Pot Roast with Vegetables

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Ingredients

Roast

  • 1 (5 pound) bottom round beef roast
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon shortening
  • 6 whole black peppers
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 6 medium carrots, pared
  • 6 medium onions, peeled
  • 1 (16 ounce) can stewed tomatoes

Pot Roast Gravy

  • Pan drippings
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • Salt and pepper

Instructions

Roast

  1. Wipe roast well with damp paper towels.
  2. Combine flour and salt; rub into surface of meat. In hot shortening in large Dutch oven, brown meat well all over.
  3. Add black peppers, bay leaf and 2 cups water; simmer covered, for 1 hour.
  4. Turn roast. Add vegetables; simmer covered, for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until the roast and vegetables are tender. Keep warm.
  5. Serve with Pot Roast Gravy.

Pot Roast Gravy

  1. Pot Roast Gravy: Brown flour in pan drippings in skillet; when brown add water to liquid in pot roast to make 2 1/2 cups. Cook slowly until thick, season to taste.
  2. Serve with meat.

Man HIT by CAR & DIES; Shown Humanity’s FUTURE in PROFOUND NDE – Stay Calm! | Gary L. Wimmer

Nicholas Thomas

      An alarm was going off. I awoke with a start as I sat up in my bed. The alarm was coming from a small box on the stool beside me. I reached over and turned it off and took a look at my surroundings. I was in a small room that was chromatic in appearance and seemed spotlessly clean. There were no windows and no door to be seen. Aside from the stool next to my bed which held the alarm clock, the only other things in this room were a mirror, and a calendar hung on the wall. I stood up out of bed and stretched. I looked in the mirror, then moved along the walls of my small enclosure and was able to confirm that there in fact was seemingly no way in or out of this room; so how did I end up in here? I was so hungry and so thirsty, so I ate dates from the calendar and drank from the springs of my bed.I turned to again face the mirror on the wall. There I see what I saw, and I took the saw. I then moved the alarm clock off the stool and sawed the stool in half. I took both halves of the stool and put them together to make a whole. I climbed through the hole.On the other side of the hole is where I found a door. It was large and, like most everything else I found so far, was made of metal. I tried the handle of the door but it didn’t budge. There was a panel above the handle which displayed a rectangular screen and a keypad. The screen showed a long list of number pairs where the far left side of the pairs was quickly counting higher with the seconds, but the numbers moved slower and slower as my eyes moved to the right of the screen. There were letters underneath each pair of numbers, which read, “S, M, H, D, W, M, _” with a blank spot at the end. I looked at the keypad and pressed “Y,” and the door gently swung open before me. I stepped through the doorway and entered a much larger room. On the wall, there was a wide oval-shaped window. I peered outside and gasped in surprise – I was looking at the planet Earth as it levitated so peacefully in the vast openness of space. I saw a plaque above the window which read, “The eyes of the world are upon you.”I looked back out the window from the plaque and saw that instead of the earth as it was before, I was now looking at one large human eye in a sea of black staring back at me. I looked back up at the plaque, and this had changed too. It now reads, “I am the first in the world, but not in a word.”“One,” I say allowed.As I said this, another alarm goes off. Everything around me turns red, and I realize that the airlock is about to open and send me defenseless into the vacuum of space. I frantically search my surroundings for a way to escape, and that is when I look up and see a space suit hanging on the ceiling. I tried jumping forward to reach it, but I felt like I weighed a ton; though backward, I was not. I took a step back and became weightless. I floated to the ceiling and put the suit on just in time before I was sucked into the openness of space. There I drifted through the endless without name, or number, or sound. I have become the beginning of the end and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. There I learned that my name is E.A voice crackled in my space suit, saying, “Find the eighty-seventh planet,” so I looked out among the stars and saw that they shone in the patterns of another sequence of numbers. I saw 16, 06, 68, 88, and 98. Before long, I realized that I had been floating upside down, so I drifted in between 88 and 98. There I found the eighty-seventh planet and descended.As I landed on the surface, I found a building that I recognized, though I could not remember from where. I wanted to get into this building but was held up by two doors – both of which had a guard in front of it. I approached the guard on the left and asked him, “Which door will the other one tell me leads safely inside?” I chose the opposite door for the answer given to me.I woke up again. Now I am surrounded by people I recognize, and I remember what that building was that I entered in that dream – it was where I work.My boss is leaning over me. “Colonel, how do you feel?”I slowly sit up, rubbing my head as I do so. “I… Okay, I think. What happened?”“It will take you some time to recover fully – Colonel, you just underwent a simulation of sorts. Do you remember why you’re here?”I thought about this for a moment. I shook my head. My boss explained, “The simulation you experienced had a very unique kind of programming. You were to be placed alone in a space station, but that’s where the specifics stop – the rest of the program was up to your own imagination to piece together.”It was all starting to come back to me. “I’m… I’m going to go up there, aren’t I? And it’s going to just be me up there.”My boss nodded, saying, “That’s right. This simulation was to see how well your mental state can handle being in a situation like that for such a period of time. Judging by your readings of this test…” he sighed, then continued, “They’re very interesting. Not concerning in any way, just … Interesting. So we think you’re ready, but the question is – do you feel ready, Colonel?”I leaned back again onto the bed, a smile spread slowly across my face. Though my eyes were looking at the ceiling, my thoughts were somewhere else entirely. I was reminded of Neil Armstrong’s first words on the moon as I said out loud, more to myself than to anyone else around, “I’m ready. After all, the more I take, the more I leave behind.”

Many times I have been called upon to repair something others had deemed unfixable. It’s sort of my niche as a repair person—come to me when everybody else failed and before you give up and trash it to the landfill. I noticed years back a flurry of assorted repair trucks at a neighbors home. I was surprised as their home was just built a few years prior. What could be so wrong that Roto Rooter was there, then a plumbing company, then an appliance repair place van. I ran into the neighbor at a school function and asked her what had gone wrong. she just about burst into tears and told me the dishwasher had an error code indicating a drain problem. She had RR come out and snake the sink drain but the problem was not fixed. The RR guy said the dishwasher drain hose might be clogged but a plumber would have to replace the hose or clear it. The plumber said he couldn’t figure out how to remove the dishwasher from the cabinet to get to the hose so he ran a wire in it from the sink drain and it seemed clear so the problem was in the dishwasher. She was out $500 at that point. The appliance guy came out and said there was nothing he could do as the dishwasher wouldn’t come out of the cabinet. Then she was out $650 (service call fee). I offered to have a look and found indeed the dishwasher would not slide out of the cabinets despite removing the usual mounting screws. I asked her to remove all the food from the lazy Susan cabinet and she did. I crawled in to the Lazy Susan (I was slender enough then) with a light and mirror. I discovered the rear legs of the dishwasher had been screwed to the floor by the dishwasher installer before the cabinets were all finished and the countertops were put on. Either that installer was stupid or he figured the countertop guys would remove the screws before placing the countertop and that guy was also stupid. The end result was a dishwasher there for life and not repairable or replaceable. I ran home for special tools like a flexible screwdriver drive for the drill and a right angle screwdriver attachment. One of those was able to get back in there and remove the floor screws without removing the countertops, the sink, the disposal, and the cabinets. I slid out the dishwasher. I gave her the option of calling back the appliance repair guy or me giving it a shot. she chose me based on experience she had so far (and I was free). I started pulling the dishwasher apart after reading the manual that there was a drain obstruction detected. She asked where I learned to fix dishwashers. I told her it was actually my first time. She looked worried. I found a one way check valve in the drain line that the rubber flap had torn loose and jammed in the hose. That was the obstruction detected. I told her a new check valve was needed so I would order one for her. She asked how long it would take and I had no idea. I asked for a needle and thread-waterproof thread. She had the needle but no waterproof thread. I ran home for fishing line. I sewed the rubber flap back in position as best I could and it worked fine, the code cleared, and the dishwasher was back in business. The new valve arrived in a week and I installed it telling her she should expect it to happen again in about 3 years as the water has additives that destroys black rubber. Before then they sold the house and moved away apparently fearing the 3 contractor visit if I wasn’t around the next time perhaps.

I did, once LONG ago. Being legally blind, I often travel with a folding white cane. Actually, now I use an National Federation of the Blind telescoping cane,) that, when folded, looked like a bundle of four white tubes.

I was shopping in a toy store, just looking around, minding my own business, and carrying my white cane folded up in one hand. Needing both hands to examine something on a shelf, I tucked my folded cane into my purse. The cane was longer than the purse could accommodate, so it stuck out at the end.

Not finding what I was looking for, finally, I decided I had better look elsewhere, and so I meandered out of the store. Just as I reached the outside walk, and was preparing to unfold my cane, I was confronted by a “loss prevention specialist” who said “Can you step back in the store, please?” Innocent kitten that I was, I did so willingly “What seems to be the problem?” I asked.

“We saw you shoplift that item in your purse.” UI was quite startled. I hadn’t put anything 9in my purse so when he escorted me to the back office and aske me to empty my purse, I did so willingly. He picked up the cane and said “You didn’t pay for that!” A-HA! I was floored! “Sir… that is my mobility cane!” I replied.

“NO, it isn’t! You are on camera placing it in your handbag.” “Yes, Sir, I did. I—” “Then you admit to shoplifting it!” This was just about when I realized I was in some serious trouble. Fortunately, logic saved me! “Sir,” I asked “Can you and I go to the aisle where I put this in my purse?” “Yeah, OK, I guess so.”

We went to the place where I had slid the cane into my purse. Taking my folded cane I undid the fastener and allowed the cane to fall out and snap into its extended length. “Now, Sir. Can you tell me where in this store this is sold? I need to see which product you sell was shoplifted and its price.” He stared at the cane as if it had become a snake (eat your heart out, Moses!) and stammered “Uh… I… I’ll have to ask the manager…” He did. The manager came over and we repeated the situation to him, with me explaining the cane, its usage, the fact that the tip was NOT brand new, and it was obviously in used condition and that toy stores do NOT sell mobility canes for blind persons!

The manager fell all over himself apologizing to me and even scolded the “Loss prevention specialist” for having accosted and harassed a blind customer!

One bad event can create situations that force you to do things that will lead to far better events

The South Koreans will say anything their US master order them to say. We all know that South Korea is a US poodle colony with tens of thousands of American soldiers everyday trampling on South Korean soil and copulating with South Korean girls.

I pity them.

I’ve written about another customer on a similar topic, but as we are coming out of a hurricane I would be remiss to not talk about this one.

The year was 2004. My state was hit by multiple hurricanes. I worked in tech support for the cable company, dealing only with internet issues. My office was right on the water and we were watching as night fell and the waves were coming up higher over the patio. We were waiting on the evacuation order and were taking calls up until the last possible minute.

I got a call from someone whose service cut out. I told her that I understand the issue but we are unable to send someone to restore that night as A) it is after 8PM and the techs stopped working and B) we had an impending hurricane. I offered to set an appointment for the next available day which would be 3 days out. She was having none of it.

She understood that there was a hurricane. She understood that it was after the time the techs got off. She even understood that I was waiting for my own order to evacuate. She just didn’t care. She had no concern for my safety or that of my technician. “You tell him to lash his ass to the pole! I need my internet!” I sat there getting yelled at for 15 minutes until they finally sounded the alarm to leave immediately. I told her I was being evacuated and now no longer had the time to book her a tech for three days out and she would need to call back after normal business resumed which was expected to be in two days’ time.

There are no magic words that get you connected faster than anyone else, and that goes for power, phone, internet, any of it. Everybody’s got little kids, a sick grandmother, this or that which is important to them. When it comes to disaster recovery it is always the goal to bring back the greatest number of people in as short a period of time as possible after essential services are restored. You can beg, plead, threaten, or cajole and it makes not a whit of a difference. If we were to take care of everybody who says they need theirs up first ahead of everybody else then we’d still do it in the same order because everybody says it. We will always fix 1500 people before we will fix 15 because it’s a lot easier to deal with 1485 fewer people being pissed off. Preparation also means making plans to busy yourself while you wait for restoration.

Happy ??

He was a painter; she a writer. He had never heard of ‘Michelangelo’; she could not spell ‘Dante’.

He painted house roofs hanging from scaffolds, she copy-wrote Malayalam documents in a document-writers office; but they made a good pair. Despite the fact that he was a Christian and she a Hindu, they fell in love, ended up marrying and settled down; in a small house in the suburbs. Their 3-year-old daughter, who did not clearly understand why her grandparents never visited them, was still not big enough to understand the depth of religious chasms.

Despite the social boycott, they were content with their world.

Till it shattered.

He presented to the Emergency with sudden onset breathing trouble, medically ‘acute pulmonary edema’ resulting from a hitherto undetected narrowed heart valve (Rheumatic Mitral stenosis).

He was put on a ventilator.

24 hours later he developed a massive cerebral infarct resulting from irregular heart rhythm (atrial fibrillation) destroying about half of his brain.

His EEG showed that the chance of his recovery was remote.

But, we need a relatives written consent to disconnect life support, because technically he was alive.

Vegetative state.

I was the resident in charge, in this large hospital and I would meet his wife daily detailing about his condition. She was a thin young lady with a ‘gymnastic-style’ ear-ring, a rabbit tooth and a kid in tow.

Over time, I explained the futility of continuing treatment; the options of DNR, to disconnect from the ventilator, but she refused consent. With no relatives to support, she was perhaps unable to take a harsh decision; clinging to some hope.

A hope that I knew did not exist.

Days passed, his condition deteriorated, but his heart continued to beat, he continued to ‘live’ on a life support system; the bills were mounting. In a non-Govt. hospital, there was no way to cut down cost.

One day the gymnastic rings were missing; I knew she had sold her jewelry.

A relative of mine, who knew them told me that she is now trying to sell off her small house and plot of land, to finance her husband’s treatment; which I was kind of sure that, is going to be fruitless.

I never prayed that he dies. But I prayed that let the inevitable happen fast; before she could sell whatever little earthly possession the family have.

Think of the paradox – we put people on life support system, but because of legal issues we are not sure how to undo it.

I was on duty that night; he died. I was happy, not because he died; but because his family got a chance to live; still retain a place of their own that they call home. A mother and daughter for whom he would have been ready to give his life.

In a heartless society full of religious chasms.

Man Dies; Meets Higher Beings, Sees Wonders in the Afterlife, & History of the Earth!

I had a best friend. He was originally from Sweden and you could tell he was very easily Swedish by his looks. We were friends for 11 years and maintained constant contact. This was in a different state (I was on vacation)

He did not have the best childhood. His parents were abusive (both from his personal confessions and through unfortanate experience (they were nice to us, but mean to him on the inside). He was also in poverty, but the best thing about him was he was a very nice and cheerful kid.

Well, another side of the story. We were talking on the phone and a loud scream heard from the mic. Subsequently I heard a car crash nearby. It was my birthday and I realized that same car was my friends car. We came to help.

He came out gravely injured. I was really really sad, tears welling up my eyes. The EMD came in and he let me know what happened. I went nuts.

A few days later, he passed away age 11 in the hospital due to a complication after the injury. I was horrified. I was only 13.

The mom wasn’t there during the crash, but the dad and his siblings were killed instantly. After the death of her son. she realized how terrible of a mom she was, and vowed to NEVER abuse any other family member again. She ended up adopted and is a completely different mom now. Rather than spanking, she helps her new son and keeps him well. Sorry, but you’ve already done the damage brother. No apologies given.

A investigation lead to the case being on the news. I found out and was still really saddened by the cause. They said that the crash was a planned attack by a family friend. Cams showed that a middle aged, very pale light blonde-haired woman intentionally was in the other car, trying to act “frightened” to avoid arrest. She was the only occupant. Unfortanately, however the police realized and decided to quickly “interview” her of her actions and she admitted and was arrested on the spot.

The woman was charged with malicious murder and aggravated assault and was sentenced to death row, however she got super lucky and was changed to life in prison.

TLDR: Basically, my friend was allegedly murdered.

Please rest in peace…. Jett.

No, they don’t. They don’t even care that the sanctions against Russia are hurting themselves. Their economic growth had dropped to below 1% on average. Germany, Eurtope’s biggest economy, is on the verge of a recession. The NATO countries in Europe are paying more for their energy needs. They have stopped selling goods to Russia, thereby hurting their own trade. But despite all that, they add more sanctions against Russia.

Russia, meanwhile has benefitted from the sanctions. In 2023, their GDP rose 3.6%. In Q1 2024, their GDP rose 5.4%. They look set to have a high GDP growth in 2024, beating all European countries. This view has been expessed by the IMF.

Russia is now manufacturing most of the products that Europe is no longer selling to them. This has resulted in many factories sprouting across Russia, giving full employment to the Russians. They are looking to bring in more workers from Central Asia and Africa to meet the demand for more factory workers. And this major increase in in-house manufacturing is what has increased Russia’s GDP.

Star Wars A New Hope – 1950s Super Panavision 70 | Runway Gen 3

Well, a Chinese CBG headed by a fujian-class carrier and flanked by type 055 destroyers is a formidable proposition that is the equal or even superior to an American CBG.

That’s an unprecedented development.

The most potent f-35c equipped USN CBG has peer competition, and we are talking 12, 18 months max before the fujian CBG becomes fully operational.

And that’s a worry for a china that already has the production capacity to build 100-150 twin-engine j-35 annually and 1 fujian-class carrier biennially. Ramp-up is not beyond the question either.

The USN has two impending, crippling issues stepping up to the China challenge.

One, the seriously delayed Ford-class program impacting the sustainable size of the supercarrier program. The oldest Nimitz-class hulls will be too expensive to retrofit for f-35c duty while the Ford-class is still riddled with production and operational issues.

Two, the f-35 program running into production snags, such as block software updates, and raw material bottlenecks for sensitive electronics upstream. This will reverberate down to the air wing, particularly crew training and logistic support.

Indopacom’s deployed naval assets will eventually be outnumbered and outclassed by the PLAN, even if the USN commits 100% of deployable assets to the western pacific. We are talking two decades, max, and that includes naval aviation.

The question isn’t what should the USN do but what CAN the USN do.

Even the usn’s nuclear submarine programs are having long-term manufacturing issues that have been filed away.

It appears the USN is pursuing the u-boat wolf pack strategy of the German navy in WWII, massively expanding its attack sub and destroyer fleets.

I say good luck.

Men are Chilling as the World Burns

It is the zero sum game mindset of hegemonists who use finance as their main source of profit.

They know that China is strong, that China’s political system is OK, that there is no genocide in Xinjiang, that China’s camera density is lower than that of UK, that China is not a police country, that Chinese people are not brainless bots, that China didn’t create any virus, that Chinese people do not steal intellectual property rights, and that China does not have expansionism.

But they have to stick to these lies because they believe that China is an obstacle for them to continue maintaining their current affluent income.

That has nothing to do with any non hegemonic country, nor with any civilians. They are just oligarchs of hegemonic countries.

Some people, whether rich or middle class people, fantasize about themselves belonging to hegemonic camp, but no, neither the victory nor failure of hegemonists cannot prevent the decline of any others’ living standards.

Only when they are put down, other people have a chance to survive.

China’s Done With U.S. Semiconductors, Japan Stocks Collapse As “Asian NATO” PM Wins

What is the scariest real life thing that ever happened to you?

My 14 year old daughter was hanging out with a friend in town (small town, should be safe, right?). My husband and I were at a bbq at his sisters, so we called her to let her know we were on our way to pick her up and she screamed at us that she was being chased by a man with a knife.

Did you know that dodge caravans can do 120mph? I do now. We got there at the same time as with the police, which was probably for the best. I’ve never seen my husband so mad, and he’s a hot tempered man to begin with.

My daughter and her friend had been walking along when this guy took offense to what they were wearing. (They were cosplaying.) A couple of older boys (my hero’s) told him to leave them alone, they’re just a couple of kids. Then, when he pulled a knife, they got in between the girls and the maniac and started swinging their skateboards at him to keep him away. My daughter and her friend ran into the Subway, who let them hide in the back until we got there.

The next scariest was only less scary because I wasn’t there when it happened. Same daughter, 5 years later. She called me and told me not to freak out, which is not a good way to start a conversation. She’d been shot in a drive bye shooting. The bullet ricocheted off the brick wall behind her and lodged in her foot. I don’t think I was driving safely that time, either.

The irony of this is if I had to choose a child who would be chased by a knife wielding tweaker or shot in a drive by shooting, it would not be her. She’s always struggled with anxiety and she’s super safety conscious.

We, The Left Behind

Submitted into Contest #232 in response to: Write a story set in a world with a dying sun, or where light is a scarce resource. view prompt

Michelle Oliver

We are the left behind, the ones who didn’t make the cut, the unlucky.When The Arc was created, they said the positions on board would be determined by ballot. Funny how that random selection process took one hundred percent of the rich and famous, the billionaires, the influencers, the celebrities and politicians. Oh, they took others too, the unnamed and unknown. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, all randomly selected. Families were torn apart by the horrible choice, either stay together and die, or separate for a chance at life. My mother chose life, chose her future over me. I was not selected. I was left behind and she went, boarded the huge craft they called The Arc. The chosen few abandoned the Earth with its dying sun, departed for places unknown in the far reaches of space. They said they’d return for us, the ones they left behind. We knew they lied.Then came the Light Stalkers, attracted to the light of the dying sun, like moths to an enormous flame.And we, the left behind, became their prey.****“We need supplies,” Rogue says to those of us gathered in the worn out ruins of an ancient subway. The tunnels provide a safe way to move from place to place. The Light Stalkers can’t follow us down here. “We need to send a scout to the surface.” I don’t know what Rogue had been in his other life. I thought of him as a warrior, like the ancient marines of old. Jesper thought he must have been a teacher, because he knows so much random shit and doesn’t need a computab to assist with recall. It doesn’t matter. You don’t ask questions in the dark.All eyes look at me in the dim light of the glow stone. With Light Stalkers about, you never want to light a place too brightly. The woven basket always sits next to the stone, ready to cover it at a moment’s notice, and plunge our meeting space into darkness.“I’ll go.”It was a semblance of choice, a facsimile of democracy. If I didn’t volunteer, I would be volunteered. I am slight and fast, and I hide in the shadows, moving relatively unseen above ground.“I’ll come too.” At seven, Lillin is technically the youngest of our group.“You can wait for me at the shadow mouth, Lil. I’m faster above ground on my own.” One day I’ll take Lillin with me, it will be good for him to know how to scout and score. If something happens to me and I don’t return from one of my missions to the surface, Lil will need to know what to do. But he is young yet. He doesn’t remember the days before darkness. He has no idea about the horrors that the Light Stalkers can bring. I want to protect that innocence as long as I can. I know Rogue won’t let him be a kid for much longer. Survival trumps innocence.****At the shadow mouth, the entrance to our safe haven, I pause and Lillin hovers at my shoulder.“Lil, your job is to watch the stones,” I tell him as I carefully shove six glow stones into the dull light. They will absorb the weak rays so we can reuse them to light our darkness. “If you see a stalker, retreat, you hear me?” He nods, eyes wide. “You leave those stones and get yourself back into the shadows. I can replace the stones. I can’t replace you.” It is not strictly true. Replacing the stones is risky. They’re not native to earth, so it requires sneaking into a Light Stalker encampment and taking them. That endeavour is a death wish.Cautiously, I exit the safety of the shadow mouth and scamper across the flat expanse of exposed ground, until I reach the shallow overhang opposite. The decaying ruins of the abandoned city provide ample cover and I crawl through the dark, confined spaces formed by walls that have toppled to the ground. I scamper from one pile of rubble to another, short, quick dashes into the dangerous light of the dull red sun that hangs like a pulsating, blood-red wound in the sky.I know what we need. Rogue has planted ancient orange trees nearby. The little schooling I had received in the time before the darkness taught me that the human body needs vitamins to survive, and an important one is VitC. Our bodies need it to fight off disease and infection, so oranges are a staple of our diet. Each year, Rogue and I also plant leafy greens and vine growing beans in scattered places throughout the ruined city. My job is to harvest enough for us to survive for the next few weeks and replant to ensure that there will be food for us in the future. Never take more than you need.I’ll go get the oranges first. That’s the most dangerous part of the mission as the trees grow in the full sun. Although our dying sun is not hot, it’s relentless. Once there had been day and night, but it’s been thousands of years since anyone experienced the phenomenon. Over the last few millennia, the sun expanded in its dying throws, and its size impacted Earth’s gravitational field. The North Pole had been pulled toward the full sun, leaving the South Pole in eternal darkness. Sometimes, Rogue and I would dream of walking to the other side of the world, the dark side, where the stalkers wouldn’t come. But nothing would grow without sunlight and we’d starve to death there. Not to mention that the other side of the world is forever away.The orange grove is around the next corner and I approach with increased caution as I crawl between two walls that have toppled over to form a low tunnel full of lichen and scurrying rodents. The soil here is damp and loamy, pungent with rotting vegetation and excrement. Before the Light Stalkers came, we would use it to fuel our fires, and a small amount would burn for a long time. I scoop up handfuls of the mud and fill my pockets. It’s a precaution that Rogue taught me.At the end of the tunnel, I know I am going to have to run and I prepare myself, check that my satchel is firmly on my shoulder and that my pockets are full. I spend a few moments just watching, searching for any movement, any unusual disturbances. As far as I can tell, it’s safe, but I don’t linger. I dash towards the first tree and huddle for safety beneath its branches. Still safe. I begin to gather the oranges, carefully placing them inside my satchel.When I get to the fourth tree, I hear it, the sibilant hiss that sparks terror in my soul. Silently, I scale the tree, as my heart pounds against my ribs, and hope that the shadows of the branches will be enough to hide me. The stalker walks upright in the sunlight. Bronze scaled skin reflects the cool red light, and the glow stones embedded in the straps that pass for clothing on this creature, glimmer warmer than the sun’s feeble light.The stalker is a bipedal creature with long arms ending in hands that have six multi jointed digits. If one of those hands grabs you, you’re done for. It’ll feed on you, suck the moisture from your entire body, leaving you a dried up husk of a human. They’re unshakable, the best idea is to stay well away from them. The second best idea is to lure them into the shade. They are creatures of sunlight and I’ve seen first hand the intense reaction they have to the shadows.This Stalker has excellent hearing. It turns its head slightly, and I freeze, holding my breath lest it hear me. I wonder if it can hear the ferocious pounding of my heart? There’s nothing I can do about it. My whole body is shaking with each beat. Dark eyes glint in the sunlight as it peers through the branches and then it chitters, a sound I have never heard before. Usually they hiss. I know that it can see me, its eyes are fixed on my hiding spot and I tense my muscles, ready to leap from the tree and run.Another hissing sound pierces the silence, and I see a second stalker shuffling this way. It hisses at the first one and both turn their heads toward the branches where I am hiding. Shit, I’m dead. Outrunning one stalker is one thing, avoiding two is impossible, but I refuse to give in. I will go down fighting. I feel the mud in my pocket. It’s not much, but it will have to do, because I’m dead anyway.

The second stalker steps into the shade beneath my tree. The glowing stones on its body illuminate the darkness, chasing the safety of my shadows away. I wait, not wanting to waste this chance by reacting too soon. Reaching into my pocket, I take careful aim—I will only get one shot at this. With everything that I have, I lob a handful of mud and silently rejoice to see it hit home, covering one of the glow stones on the creature’s shoulder. Instantly, the air around the stalker dims, and it wails as smoke sizzles from its body, while it flaps its arms urgently, trying to slap the mud away. Another shot, another glow stone covered in mud and the light is quenched. The creature screams, disoriented by pain as the fire consumes it, then collapses face first, before it can reach the safety of sunlight, writhing in agony.

I turn my attention to the other stalker. It looks from me to its companion, then quickly plucks two oranges from the tree and throws them at its fallen friend. The oranges hit the mark, covering over the remaining glow stones on the creature’s back, stifling the light and ensuring the stalker’s immediate death in flaming, orange scented smoke. Perhaps it was a compassionate move, like putting an animal out of its misery, but somehow I don’t think so.

The remaining stalker plucks another orange, looks through the branches, and gently tosses it to me. I fumble the catch. With another strange noise, the stalker rips one of the glow stones from the strap on its chest and tosses it up to me. This time I don’t fumble, and I grasp the precious stone with two hands. It nods to me, then at the charred remains of its fallen companion while pointing to its own stones. Cautiously, I clamber down the tree and edge toward the corpse, my eyes not leaving the stalker for one minute. I reach into my pocket for the last handful of mud, ready to hurl it should this remaining stalker make a single movement towards the shadows. It doesn’t move, standing perfectly still, watching me as cautiously as I watch it.

On trembling legs, I step nearer to the smoking corpse. The smell is dreadful, a charred, swampy stench tinged with burnt orange, that causes my eyes to water. I blink rapidly, determined not to lose sight of my enemy. Trying not to breathe in through my nose, I rummage through the charred remains to locate the four stones, two on the front of the corpse and two on the back. When I have them, I stand and search the face of the remaining stalker for any indication of what it is about to do. It’s hard to read the expressions on the reptilian face. The creature barely even blinks.

I hold a glow stone out toward it like an offering and it is then that I notice a change in expression. The mouth quirks up in the corner. Did it just smile? It gestures to its own stone, then points at me and chitters. I point to the stone in my hand, then point to myself and it tips its head. Did it just nod? I feel lightheaded. Have I just communicated with an alien?

It turns its back on me and walks back the way it came, so I use the opportunity to scurry away, silently slipping from shadow to shadow, all the way back to the mouth of our safe haven. Lil is waiting there for me, hiding in the shadows.

“Were you successful?” he asks.

“I think so.” I hand him an orange as I gather up the glow stones that we had left out to charge in the sun.

We, the left behind, may be the only humans left on Earth, but we aren’t the only people here. Now the question is, what are we going to do about it?

25 Missing Kids Discovered Behind Secret Door

https://youtu.be/joJwqdCGVYs

Philly Cheesesteak Stuffed Peppers

philly cheesecake stuffed peppers
philly cheesecake stuffed peppers

Ingredients

  • 1 pound bottom round steak, thinly sliced
  • 2 bell peppers, halved and cored
  • Avocado oil
  • Bell peppers, sliced thinly
  • Red onion, sliced thinly
  • White onion, sliced thinly
  • Pickled jalapeños, chopped
  • 1/2 pound Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
  • Onion salt
  • Sea salt
  • Pepper

Instructions

  1. Heat oven 350 degrees F.
  2. Drizzle avocado oil on bell papers. Bake for 17 to 20 minutes.
  3. Heat a large frying pan over medium high and add a little avocado oil.
  4. Season steak with onion salt, sea salt and pepper. Sear each side of steak for about 1 to 2 minutes and remove to let rest a couple minutes.
  5. Cut steak into small 1/4 to 3/8 inch square pieces.
  6. Heat a frying pan over medium heat and add avocado oil when warm.
  7. Add thinly sliced onions and bell peppers to pan and cook while stirring often for about 10 minutes.
  8. Mix steak, cheese, bell peppers, onions and jalapeños in a bowl.
  9. Fill bell peppers, then bake for 10 minutes until cheese is melted.

Wife’s Use Of Social Media To Cheat FINALLY Halted After Hubby Grows A Pair, Leaves Her No Alimony

Story Time

Well, explain to me what it was doing on the tree if I wasn’t meant to eat it?I had a long, hard day, Adam. If you remember correctly, you were supposed to name all the animals with tails, while I handled the green ones. The next thing I know, you’re passed out by the water circle taking yet another one of your naps. That left me to come up with all those names, and by the time I was done, I was famished.The apple tree is the closest to the water hole, and that’s why I picked an apple. It was convenient. I wasn’t deliberately trying to disobey the Lord. After an exhausting day, I simply wanted whichever fruit I could get to first. Can you explain to me why God put the forbidden fruit so close to us and made it so red to draw our attention to it, and made it so tasty? Adam, if you could try an apple, you would never be the same. I cannot describe its delectability.You may as well try one now. We’ve already been cast out. It’s not as though He’s going to cast us out again. If you ask me, it’s unbelievably rude of Him to have us name every living creature on earth, put all the acceptable fruit out of reach, and then kick us out of the Garden once all the tedious tasks are completed. He didn’t even say “Thank you!” Not even a card expressing his thanks. I realize cards haven’t been invented yet, but if He can create an entire Universe in a few days, I think he can figure out a way to show gratitude, don’t you?Oh, stop crying, Adam. This place isn’t so bad. Sure, it isn’t Paradise, but there are some plants with needles sticking out of them and some lovely dust and a lot of very interesting rocks. That one looks sharp. Be sure to never pick it up and drop it on anybody’s head. Please cover yourself up. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I can’t stand the sight of you in all your nakedness.Shame? What’s that? No, you know I don’t listen when He talks. It’s so loud and condescending. Do this, do that. Name this, worship me, “Stop rolling your eyes at me, Eve, or I’ll turn you back into a rib”–It’s all so boring. If any of it were all that vital to know, he’d write it down on a piece of stone. I suggested that to him once, and he pretended it was a bad recommendation, but secretly, I think he filed it away to use at a later date. The first time I see a rock with a rule on it, I’m going to look up at the sky, and say “Wow, who gave you that idea?” See if I don’t.I’m not afraid of Him, you know. You might be, but I’m not. I’ve barely had time to contemplate my own existence, so the threat of having my existence nullified is of no concern to me. Clearly, He doesn’t want to get rid of us and start from scratch, or He would have done it already. No, he wants to teach us a lesson. He wants us to wander aimlessly for the remainder of our lives cloaked in this thing called shame. I shall not. I refuse. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I will not pretend that I do. A man makes a silly rule, and if the rule is broken, that does not make it any less silly. I don’t care what sort of man it is. I don’t care if you say God is not simply a man. He sounds like a man, and because he can sound any way he likes, that means he wants to sound like a man. We call Him “He,” don’t we? Then he is a man with made-up rules for living that I was never going to obey.I don’t care if He hears me. Let him hear me. I am meant to spend the rest of my days surrounded by needle-plants and you, a man with one rib. I am meant to wear rags, because not wearing them makes me feel strange. I am meant to have children, I suppose. Based on how disagreeable I am and how stupid you are, I can’t imagine they’ll be very endearing children. Once those children are here, I have no idea who they’ll have children with, because it’ll just be us. I guess that means once we die, and our children die, that’ll be the end of this nonsensical little experiment.Oh, but at least we named the giraffes first.A question for you, Adam, since He isn’t responding to us–Why are we the only ones who can’t eat the apples?I specifically saw a Loud-Bird eating an apple the other day. Why weren’t all the Loud-Birds cast out of the Garden? If a giraffe eats an apple, will it be thrown out of the garden? Why were we the only ones prohibited?

 

Right–the knowledge.

 

We’re not meant to know anything. We’re just meant to assign names, be fruitful, multiply, and praise Him every chance we get. If we want knowledge, then it’s out we go.

 

Well, Adam, I choose to know. I choose to know things. Not just some things, but everything. Why create an entire world and then tell me I’m not allowed to know anything about it? I can’t help but feel this was all some kind of test, and I will not be tested. Had I known that he was testing me, I would have eaten every apple on that tree. I would have stared up at Him with the seeds falling out of my mouth, and I would have laughed. For if I am to go into Exile, I am not going with an empty stomach. I will go with a belly full of apples.

 

My only regret is that I stopped at one.

 

I will not feel badly about you being punished for something I did either, because I have been punished many times over for you. For your laziness. For your superiority complex. For the way you smell at night when you are pressed up against me. It reeks so that I can barely sleep. Yet I have said nothing, because I have accepted that we are joined forever. You make strange noises in your sleep, but He never punished you for that. I took one bite, and we are damned. Be angry if you like, Adam, but do not expect me to worry myself over your anger. Your anger is your business. I will not make it mine.

 

Last night, before He woke us with our punishment, I had a dream. I had a dream that all of this was submerged in water. Enough water to cover even the tops of the tallest trees. There were more people. Lots more. They were running and screaming. Some were already drowned. In the distance, I could see a large boat, but it was too far away. I would never reach it in time. I would die alongside all these strangers.

 

Instead, I lay myself down. I began to float. Right up to the surface. I could still hear the wailing and the pleading all around me, but I was not making a sound. I simply laid like that on the surface of the water and let it take me wherever it wanted to go.

 

Many of them came to the US and Canada. MANY of them.

When we moved into our new house in a new suburb, it seemed like most living there were either German, and those saying they were Dutch but were possibly German.

I was eight and friends with a girl named Elvira. Yes, that was her name, like the song. She told me her dad used to be in the German Army. Looking at him, I believe he was. He also sounded like one.

There was a boy named Ernest, very blonde hair and my age. He lived in a fairly modern house built along the River. He was in my class. He was German. I figured his dad must have been in the German Army in WWII. We sometimes played together. I never asked him though.

There was an another boy at school named Klaus. He told us that his dad was in the German Army in WWII and fought in Holland. My dad fought as an infantryman in Italy.

One day Klaus and I got into a fight at school. I remember kids standing around us cheering us on. I remember stupidly thinking that I had to beat him because his dad was in the German Army.

At home at the dinner table I told my parents what happened and that I felt had to beat Klaus in a fight because he was a German.

“Why the fight?” Dad asked.

“He told us that his father said the German soldier was tougher than the Allied soldiers. And I said to him, ‘Yeah, that’s why the Germans lost right?’ Then he came and pushed me. We started fighting.”

“They WERE tough. Very tough,” dad said. “I didn’t bring you up to be like that son. The wars over. His dad was more likely a regular German soldier, an infantryman like I was and just doing his job probably because he had no choice. He’s moved here with his family to start a new life. Klaus is not the enemy. He’s a schoolmate. He had nothing to do with the war

“Well it seems we’re surrounded dad,” I said.

Dad laughed. Then he said, “They’re our neighbors now. Let’s treat them like neighbors.”

Oddly enough Klaus and I got to be friends. One day I went to his house. We walked into the kitchen and his dad was there. His dad looked just like any other dad. He looked at us and smiled.

“Ah, you are hungry maybe,” he said. He took two dark pieces of bread and put a lot of butter on them. He gave us both a slice of buttered bread. Then he said, “Ach, warten!” He went into the cupboard and took out a chocolate bar and broke it in half giving us each a piece.”

That was the best tasting snack ever. I realized his dad was just like mine and dad was probably right.

I once tracked all our expenses down to the penny for an entire year.

It was a few years after my husband and I had graduated from college. We did a startup right out of college and we had ruined our credit by financing a number of things for the business using our personal credit.

We had closed our startup a few months prior and joined a company. We were making a good salary, but we still had a bunch of credit card debt, and our credit score was not the best.

I calculated that between the two of us, we were paying between $70 to $130 more a month for our car loans than we would if could get the best rate.

At the time, I was also starting to think about saving for a home. The rental rates where we lived were quite high, and I calculated that if we could get together a down payment, we would be able to purchase a home and pay only a little more per month for the mortgage than we were paying for rent.

That is, if we could save enough for the down payment, and if we had a perfect credit score.

With our credit score at the time, the same mortgage would cost us several hundred dollars more per month.

Our bad credit was already costing us money, and would only cost us more in the future. I was super motivated to fix our credit.

I knew we had to get rid of all our credit card debt, and get out of the habit of carrying a balance at all.

I sat down and drew up a spreadsheet of all the things we normally spent money on, using our bank and credit card statements for the previous months as a starting point.

I created categories for our expenditures, slotting everything we were spending into those categories. Rent, utilities, groceries, car loan, insurance, repairs and maintenance, eating out, cell phones, internet, entertainment, gifts, vacations…

I didn’t leave anything out. Anything that didn’t fit neatly into a category went into a miscellaneous bucket.

I then analyzed the spreadsheet and made a plan of where we could cut our expenses. When I was ready, I sat down with my husband. Together, we agreed on what we should be spending in each category.

Then we put our plan into action.

We started by canceling and cutting out everything we agreed to.

We got rid of some subscriptions we were rarely using. We stopped buying beverages out and starting toting around water bottles that we filled at home. When we wanted soft drinks or snacks, we purchased them in bulk at the grocery store. Since we had slashed our eating out budget, I started to cook more often.

For several weeks, I entered our expenditures into the spreadsheet every single night. When I was sure we were sticking to our plan, I started entering things once a week, then once every month.

For a whole year, every single item got tracked. We weren’t allowed to buy a single pack of gum without logging it into the spreadsheet. I even logged the 50 cents I gave to an occasional homeless person.

Little by little, we paid off our credit card debt. After a few months, it became second nature for us to be aware of how things added up. After a year, I was comfortable that we had formed good long term habits, and I finally stopped logging things into the spreadsheet.

Over time, our credit score improved. I’m happy to say, it’s been over 15 years, and we haven’t slipped since.

U.S. Hurricane Survivors Without Electric; Biden Gave Transformers and Switching gear to UKRAINE!

Electric transformers large
Electric transformers large

Hundreds-of-thousands of Americans presently without electricity from Hurricane Helene, may not see their electric power restored soon because the Biden Administration GAVE spare transformers and switching gear to . . .  UKRAINE!

While all electric utility companies in the US keep spare pole transformers in supply locally, there is a national reserve of such transformers for situations like Hurricanes, where hundreds or even thousands of such devices need replacing.

But that reserve is now gone because the Biden administration gave the gear to Ukraine, to restore _their_ electric grid after the Russia-Ukraine conflict destroyed it.

Now that Americans find themselves in need of those electrical transformers, there are few (if any) to be had.

Once again Americans are being harmed by a federal government that galivants around the world, meddling in the affairs of others, instead of working for the American people who actually employ them.

Election day is coming.  Throw out the people who did this.

A Particular Set of Skills | Taken (2008) Realtime Movie Reactions

Pro China?

I just came across a China bashing post that garnered 8k upvotes in less than 24 hours.

Jean Marie Valheur’s answer to What people make you ashamed to be a human being?

It will be hard for any pro China answer to hit 800 upvotes in a week or two, much less 10x that in a day. What do you expect on an English platform owned by Americans? That Chinese voices will become louder and more numerous than “freedom toting” Westerners?

Totally unrealistic.

There are plenty of negative political statements dressed as questions on China stating half truths or even lies as fact.

I’d say there is heavy anti-Chinese sentiment supported on Quora, if anything.

Only in one sense: How well does their democracy improve the quality of life of their citizens?

They have different models of democracy based on different philosophies. So the mechanics of their systems cannot be compared.

In terms of how well they serve their people, we may come to two conclusions:

  1. Chinese democracy has greatly improved the lives of the people.
  2. Western democracy, esp. in America, Britain, France and Germany, for example, has neglected the well-being of the people.

Which would you prefer?

How is it that docile farm raised pigs when let into the wild become such aggressive wild boars?

Well… when I was majoring in Animal Science, we took classes in Swine Production and worked hands-on with the pigs at the Cal Poly Pomona swine unit.

We did things like weigh adult and suckling pigs, measure back fat thickness, spray for lice (!), castrate and ear-notch young pigs, help restrain young boars so their tushes (look it up) could be cut.

Domestic pigs are NOT, repeat, NOT docile! Especially sows with suckling babies. If you have to handle the babies, you better have a couple people to stave mama pig off while you handle the screaming baby. Or you better be awfully quick on your feet to put a fence between you and mama pig.

(Pigs vocalize LOUDLY when you’re handling them. Measuring back fat thickness on live hogs, you’re exposed to a noise level that makes the up-close takeoff of a jet aircraft seem a whisper by comparison.)

One of the guys who worked at the swine center got into a situation handling some market-sized hogs where he was in a corner and couldn’t get out fast enough over the fence. He got a bite on the leg that took more than 40 stitches to close.

No, domesticated pigs are not automatically docile.

That said, if they’re handled regularly from a young age, pigs can be manageable. 4-H kids and Future Farmer teens are expected to be able to show their pigs in livestock shows and fairs using nothing but a cane to manage the pig’s movements while the judging is done.

Here’s the thing about domestic pigs: they’re SMART. That’s why, if they become feral, they manage very well for themselves, thank you very much!

Having handled farm hogs, I have to say they’re my least favorite farm animal to handle: they’re big (a mature boar can be over 1000 pounds, and contrary to the image pigs have as fat animals, most of their soft-tissue weight is muscle; market hogs are 250 to 400 pounds; sows are 400 to 700 pounds). They can move very, very fast, they’re agile and athletic, and they aren’t afraid of people. They have a mouth full of teeth that would shame a pit bull and if their tushes haven’t been cut, they can slash you with a sideways move of their head.

Pigs take readily to shifting for themselves. Domestic pigs may be habituated to having humans around, but I sure wouldn’t consider them docile.

This is ancient history, but it resonates so clearly for me, with an outraged complainer ignoring the reality of her surroundings demanding immediate attention to whatever problem she wanted fixed.

Shortly after I graduated from nursing school in 1982, I was a 3–11pm shift charge nurse on a medical surgical unit.

One of our patients who was being evaluated for the tumor in his brain was walking down the hallway carrying a metal ice water pitcher and his glass drinking glass.

As I saw him walking towards me, he fell to the ground, ice and broken glass everywhere, in a full grand Mal seizure. (His first).

As I was kneeling in the glass ,in my dress uniform and pantyhose, making sure his airway was open, that he didn’t bite his tongue, making sure he’d had no injury due to the fall/broken glass, etc.

I feel a firm hand tapping on my back…”Miss.then MISS! My husband is out of Kleenex!!!”

The story behind how America adopted High Fructose Corn Syrup (HFCS) is long and involved, but far more interesting than you might think. Buckle up!

In 1973 there was an oil crisis when OPEC jacked up prices driving America into recession. Policy makers were seriously alarmed and decided the US had to cut its dependence on foreign oil immediately. One suggestion was shifting to gasohol, a mix of gasoline and ethyl alcohol.

Ethyl alcohol can be made from corn; Archer Daniels Midland the company responsible for most of America’s corn harvest absolutely loved this means to sell more corn and invested in many factories to turn corn into ethyl alcohol. Now gasohol makes sense when gas prices are high, but when they are low there is no market, so when gas prices dropped again, ADM was stuck with these idle factories and no idea what to do with them.

The ADM brain trust put its mind to the problem and realized the factories could be repurposed to produce this cool new sweetener discovered less than ten years earlier called high fructose corn syrup. Fantastic! There was only one problem. Sugar was cheaper than the cost to produce HFCS. How could they make a profit?

ADM was nothing if not determined. If you cant make your product any cheaper, what if the price of sugar could be increased? Sugar was cheap because foreign sugar manufacturers produced it cheaply and then dumped their supply in the US. There was a tiny American sugar industry but it was small and feeble because American sugar was more expensive to produce than the cheap foreign sugar.

ADM approached those American sugar growers to discuss this unfair competition. Out of the goodness of their corporate heart they offered their lobbyists to get congress to vote for a large sugar tariff to protect our “strategic” American sugar producers. Congress duly obliged, a huge tariff on foreign sugar went in place, and the price of sugar skyrocketed. God bless America! It was a great day to be an American sugar producer!

Unfortunately, it was an even better day to be an enormous agricultural corporation with a vast untapped ability to produce HFCS. With sugar prices about to become sky high, ADM secretly negotiated contracts to supply Coca-Cola, Pepsi, General Mills, McDonald’s and every other processed food manufacturer with HFCS. When the tariff went into effect, American sugar manufacturers found they had traded one shaft for another.

And that is how in one stroke one company changed the American food supply to the tune of $5+ billion annually.

9-Year-Old Boy Shares His REINCARNATION CASE From Hungary in 1930

Pick the star chart that fits you

I was at Best Buy a number of years ago. I heard two people talking about a computer they were looking at and they had some questions. So I politely introduced myself and asked if I could help. Got them squared away and then went on about my business.

Then someone started clearing their throat. I didn’t think anything of it because I was engrossed in what I was doing. Finally, I heard an exasperated sigh and a rude tap on my shoulder. I turn around and look down to see a clearly angry lady standing there.

I turned to her:

Me: Ummm… yes?

Karen: sigh… hello, I need help with a cell phone.

Me: ok…

Karen: well, are you going to help me?

Me: Mam, I don’t work here…

Karen: Look, I know this isn’t your dept. but I waited patiently while you helped that couple for 20 min, and I know you are just a lowly peon, but you could at least get me some help.

Me: Look lady, I don’t work here.

Karen: That’s it, I am going to have your job!

And she stomped off. I shrugged it off and didn’t think about her again.

5 min later she comes back with another guy.

Karen: I want this person disciplined. He was disrespectful, rude, and refused to help me.

Best Buy Guy: Mam, he doesn’t work here.

That’s when I had an epiphany. I look down and realized I was wearing khaki pants and a blue polo shirt.

Karen: Good! I told you I would have your job!

Best Buy Guy: No mam, I can’t fire him, he is not an employee, see, I have the logo <points to his shirt> and he doesn’t <points at my shirt> now how may *I* help you.

Karen: Oh this is ridiculous, you stupid bastards are just sticking together. I am writing corporate to complain and I am NEVER coming to this Radio Shack again!!

Best Buy dude and I look at each other and in almost unison say: “Ok then” and watch her storm off.

GROUNDBREAKING STUDY of 4000 NDEs: Doctor UNCOVERS Near Death Experiences TRUTH | Dr. Jeffrey Long

I am not familiar with the WW2 in Europe. I only know the one in Asia that was waged by the imperialist fascist Japan who said Japan were chosen by Japanese god to rule Asia. At one time, Japan did colonise almost the entire Asia.

First, dont worry about Taiwan which is under good control of China. What you should worry about is South China Sea. If ever there were a war in Asia, it would be Philippines, a US puppet, who provokes China enough to start a war. Just like Ukraine to Russia. Same US formula.

Mideast

In the Sep 2024 UNGA, Netenyahu made it clear he wanted to rule Mideast. USA who is losing influence in Mideast also wants Israel to rule Mideast so that USA can focus on Asia ie China.

That is why Netenyahu kept provoking Iran, thru assassinations.

China

History tells us that when the dominant country faces the challenge from the rising country, the dominant one, out of desperation, will wage a war, so as to “die” with the rising one.

Who is the dominant one since WW2? USA.

Who is the rising one since 1980? China.

So far, USA has lost many “wars” to China. Trade war. Trump’s crazy tariff failed to slow down China.

Trump house-arrested Huawei’s CFO so as to blackmail Huawei. Failed. In 2024, Huawei has surpassed iPhone.

Semiconductor & chips. Again failed. China has partially become self-reliant & self-sufficient. Will be fully independent soon.

In Sep 2024, US capitalist sharks went to China to seek a dialogue so as, in their words, not to miscalculate. In short, USA has lost its 2-year financial war to China. It beat down Japan though.

Not to mention USA is to lose its USD & financial hegemony once BRICS matures.

What is left for USA in face of China? Military war esp if Democrat wins election.

I may sound pessimistic. Look at the sabotage of Nord Stream. Somebody was desperate to sell its gas to Europe so as to make money.

As one who prefers your steak well done, you are doing the steakhouse a valuable service, according to professional chef Anthony Bourdain, in his famous book “Kitchen Confidential”

:

People who order their meat well-done perform a valuable service for those of us in the business who are cost-conscious: they pay for the privilege of eating our garbage. In many kitchens, there’s a time-honored practice called “save for well-done.” When one of the cooks finds a particularly unlovely piece of steak—tough, riddled with nerve and connective tissue, off the hip end of the loin, and maybe a little stinky from age—he’ll dangle it in the air and say, “Hey, Chef, whaddya want me to do with this?” Now, the chef has three options. He can tell the cook to throw the offending item into the trash, but that means a total loss, and in the restaurant business every item of cut, fabricated, or prepared food should earn at least three times the amount it originally cost if the chef is to make his correct food-cost percentage. Or he can decide to serve that steak to “the family”—that is, the floor staff—though that, economically, is the same as throwing it out. But no. What he’s going to do is repeat the mantra of cost-conscious chefs everywhere: “Save for well-done.” The way he figures it, the philistine who orders his food well-done is not likely to notice the difference between food and flotsam …

This is not to say every time you receive a well-done steak you’ve been paying full price for the privilege of helping the chef dispose of inferior meat, but it’s safe to say you’re at higher risk of it than your medium-rare steak-loving dining companions are.

Chefs know that once a steak is cooked until there’s no pink left whatsoever (overcooked) the customer isn’t going to be able to taste the difference anyway. Fresh meat, stale meat, doesn’t matter. That makes you a valued customer. It benefits the steakhouse’s inventory management.

Cooking your steaks at home might be the best bet for ensuring you’re getting what you pay for.

I have friends who dislike medium and medium-rare steak, and often the reason they feel this way is because they’re uncomfortable with the center of the steak being pink and “bloody”. Which is understandable.

However, this is based on a misperception. The red juice coming out of a steak is not blood. It’s myoglobin, a protein that when exposed to oxygen, turns pink or red. There’s no such thing as a bloody steak. It’s just juice. It’s a sign that the steak is cooked just right. This is something you might consider, if that’s a factor in your choice to have your steaks cooked until they turn gray inside.

I am inclined to take your side because I think people should eat whatever style of food they want, prepared however they like, even if others disagree or disapprove. Even if I personally think you’re wrong, you have the right to order whatever you like, however you like it. It’s a free country, man.

Yet I also sympathize with your friends, dining companions, acquaintances, or people in general who voice opposition to steak “well done”, viewing it as inferior way to cook and serve steak. When they dine out, there’s a good chance that they’re being served better-quality steaks.

But since you prefer your steaks well-done, and you won’t be able to tell the difference between fresh steak and not-fresh steak anyway, what’s the harm? Everyone wins.

Splendid Isolation

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Imagine a world where exploration is forbidden, and write a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy their innate curiosity. view prompt

PJ Town

There it is. At least I think that’s it, though it might be a cloud bank. Or land, shrouded in mist. Anyway, it’s beautiful, and it’s my future.It’s only eighteen miles away, but at this very moment it might as well be eighteen thousand. I’ve heard that people used to swim there in the old days – cover themselves in goose fat against the cold, then breast-stroke the whole distance. They’d have a boat beside them for support, which seems a little senseless; why didn’t they simply get in the boat?I’m going by boat myself, not sure when. I’ve got my deposit down – a thousand creds, which isn’t cheap. There are people that’ll do it for half that, but I’ve heard of bodies washing up on the shore, and I’m not so keen on dying just yet. My man, Maurice – I’m sure that’s not his real name – has a good reputation. You won’t find his name on the I-net, obviously. The necessarily scant word-of-mouth that finds its way to me says he only uses the best-quality boats – safe and quick. And not overloaded; at the price he charges, he can afford to keep numbers down.If I get a bit nearer the edge … careful, careful, the ground’s very crumbly here. Yes, that’s it, I think, down there on the right – that little cove, with the grey waves lapping in. Perfectly hidden from the patrol boats. Not sure how we’re going to get there. Rope ladder? Secret tunnel? Search me. I’ll find out nearer the time. Mustn’t get too impatient. That’s when the slips come; a loose word might mean the difference between escape and the clink. Or worse.To be honest, I can hardly contain my excitement. I think about it every minute of every day, although my thoughts are rather vague. No one knows for sure what’s over there, except, I imagine, those at the very top of the regime, or in the Ministry of Splendid Isolation. Or Maurice.I asked him; all he would say was “It’s different”. I wanted to know what that meant. He said he didn’t want to expand. I could see from his face that it was different in a good way. One thing I couldn’t work out – if it’s so different, and in a good way – was why he doesn’t take one of his boats and just stay there. I asked him that, too. He simply shook his head, then patted his heart.Apart from his ferrying activities, the MSI would arrest him if they caught him extolling the virtues of anything other than what we have here. Our countryside is the best, they say. I must admit that the sooty-grey hillsides, the plains, the coast, all have a certain austere beauty. Our music is the best, they say. It’s not a lie – I don’t think I’ll ever tire of pipes and drums. Our food is the best, they say. I do quite like cod-meal and oats, but my tongue and tummy protest sometimes. I must never say that out loud, however.Nor must I ever show anyone my paintings. When I’m not at the factory, I take my paper and vegetable-dye paints down to the riverside; the smell is sometimes bearable when the wind’s blowing in the right direction. I paint the dark, skeletal trees that grip desperately onto the bank; I paint the slate-grey rainclouds crawling across the sky; I paint the birds that perch in the branches of the trees, then take flight to swoop along the river. I like to paint their bright colours, which is highly illegal, of course.When anyone passes, I hide the work in my fishing bag and grab my rod. I’ll have already used it to cast a float out into the dawdling waters. I’m taking a risk with this subterfuge, naturally; everyone knows there are no fish left to catch in the rivers. I bank on people imagining that I’m an old eccentric, to be pitied, no more. So far it seems to have worked,I’d like to hang the paintings on my wall, but that would be far too risky. I keep them rolled up under the floorboards. I know it’s a crime to produce the paintings – and to store them. However, I can’t begin to describe the curious, irresistible impulse that enters my being at times. I do know it’s stronger than me.This is the main reason I need to leave. I want not to have to think twice about every idea I have, every word I say, every painting I produce. Plenty of people seem quite happy with their lot, that’s fine. But I’m sure – I don’t know how – that this is not all there is. That the reason we’re here in this world is not merely to serve the regime.Yes, I’m eager for the days when I don’t have to hide … anything. When I can sit with a friend to discuss painting, relationships, the weather, and not be afraid that an unfriendly ear will report it as sedition.The woman in the room next to mine, Catherine, who I liked very much, was caught in this way. A neighbour from down the corridor was fond of her too. When she rebuffed his advances, he engineered a meeting between her and a teacher from his son’s school, who he also held a grievance against. A word to the MSI and they quickly discovered the two – simply talking. That was enough. She was jailed for fifteen years for conspiracy. The teacher disappeared.Of course, while it’s important to heed these threats, it’s equally important not to give them too much weight. Dwelling on them can drive a person mad – a man from the next block took his own life last week, for instance. I’m determined not to go that way. And so the boat…

I asked Maurice how I should prepare for the journey. He told me to travel light, which is a little ironic because I possess next to nothing. According to him, I should wear warm, waterproof clothes; I have two sweaters, which I’ll wear one on top of the other, and I’ll fashion a cagoule from bin-bags. He said that creds can easily be traded for local currency (though I won’t have much money to trade – even less after paying the rest of the fare).

When we met, he briefly taught me some of the local lingo to get me started, and I’ve been turning it over in my head ever since. Just short phrases, like:

Bonjour. Je m’appelle Philip.

Simple words that feel like freedom on my lips and tongue.

I think nobody has explained about that more accurately than Obama. The US doesn’t want China to become prosperous because it feels that all the good things in life is deserving only for the US and its lapdogs.

Obama once told an Australian journalist:

if over a billion Chinese citizens have the same living patterns as Australians and Americans do right now then all of us are in for a very miserable time,

That’ was a painful and revealing honesty. In short, in the mind of the west, the world can continue with a billion of Chinese dead but the world can’t have the US and the west to miss even a good meal.

Pirates of the Caribbean – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

At least in the US, the perception is that Air Force folk are soft. They don’t train nearly as hard and as rough or put up with anything like as much BS as I experienced in Army basic training. And their creature comforts are the best offered by any of the services. As in flat out luxurious compared to the Army, and I assume, Marines.

For the most part, though, dumping on them is just good natured fun.

And to be fair, it doesn’t make sense to put airmen through the kind of training intended to prepare them for the kinds of things people in the Army and Marines need to prepare for. The toughness of basic and AIT (and whatever Marines call their basic and AIT) has a purpose. Yeah, a lot of it is mindless machismo, but much of it is intended to prepare folk in those branches for rough and tough stuff they might actually have to do and deal with in case of war.

Even in case of war, though, it’s highly unlikely that airmen will have to stay in foxholes for weeks, or hike twenty miles with full rucksacks. So why waste time making them do that in training, instead of train them for the technical stuff they’ll actually need to know in order to be useful?

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(Airmen don’t and won’t have to deal with this, so why waste time training them for it? Writers Cafe)

And as to luxurious creature comforts and what seems like coddling, welp… the reality is that a lot of airmen do highly technical stuff that’s in high demand in the civilian world. E.g.; I was a TOW gunner – not a whole lot of demand for that in the job market. So the Army could get away with throwing away the kid gloves when treating 11H and similar MOSes. Air Force computer techs or airplane mechanics and the like, though – if they don’t like how they’re treated, they have better options than do their brethren in the other branches. They simply won’t reenlist when their 4 years or whatever are up, fairly confident that with the skills they learned in service, they can land a civilian job that pays a lot more than Uncle Sam does.

So for purposes of retention, the Air Force has more of an incentive to treat its members nice than the other branches do. They’re literally more valuable in the job market and are easier to lose. Accordingly, the Air Force tries to be as nice to them as possible, in order to increase the likelihood of their sticking around.

The whole “getting there” thing. Just this morning I got a phone call. My ex-wife calling. She told me a mutual friend of ours, one of my daughters’ godfathers, had just died. He was 32 years old. A writer, like me. Struggling, like me. A hopeless romantic, like me. And now, a dead man. Unlike me. The guy was a mountaineer, a poet, a very healthy, well-built young man. Fit as a fiddle. Until he wasn’t. This morning he had a heart attack and passed away before reaching the hospital.

He never got to publish his first novel. Never got to write a screenplay. Never got to be a famous author, and he was so good, his words so pure. He had a good heart. He loved to drink on occasion, he could get philosophical and deep and he was well-read. A good sense of humor, didn’t take himself too seriously or unseriously. A sensitive soul. A lost soul. But also “lost and found” as he’d gotten together with a wonderful woman about eight years ago and she had changed his life for the better. A few years ago he left the bustling city life of his youth for a quiet life in the province. Mountain tops, hills and valleys all around him. Little rivers. Lazy creeks.

I remember the last time we talked and had some drinks — April 2023. We drank whiskey. Smoked a cigar. And thought of the good old days. When we first met. He was jovial, at times introspective. But every part of him screamed “young man in the prime of his life”. There was this fire in his eyes, this little twinkle of life. He was slender, fit, and he had this sense of humor. Sometimes he would laugh at his own jokes. Seeing the humor in his own failings. We promised each other we’d still get together and drink even when we’d be old men. We would still talk about literature, about the novels we had written, about the novels we still planned to write or that were still in the works. We’d be joined by our wives, our children and grandchildren…

The greatest benefit of aging is growing old in the first place. You’re a lucky man if you get to be old. If you get the privilege of still standing at the end of the road. We bury friends along the side of that road. We lose lovely people. And we cry for them. Or we don’t. We miss them in little unguarded moments. Our hearts ache for them. And we carry on. And as much as it hurts… we’re the lucky ones, for still carrying on. I drink to the spirits of my fallen brothers. And my eyes are dry but my heart silently weeps. Count your blessings.

Ranch Round Steak

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4333d2a3f699efde20fba68bd6664241

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) round steak
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons dry mustard
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/4 cup shortening
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

Instructions

  1. Cut steak into serving size pieces; trim away excess fat and pound to tenderize.
  2. Combine flour, dry mustard, salt and pepper; use to coat meat. Reserve remaining flour mixture.
  3. In skillet, brown meat, half at a time, on both sides in hot shortening. Push meat to one side; stir in reserved flour mixture.
  4. Combine water and Worcestershire sauce; stir into skillet mixture. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly, reduce heat. Cover and simmer for about 1 hour or until meat is tender.
  5. Remove meat to platter.
  6. Skim excess fat from gravy. Drizzle gravy over meat and serve.

A sad cat

“This cat slept on the pillow next to my mother’s every night. As my mother grew weaker, I began taking care of the cat. Seven months later, my mom passed away peacefully in her home, just as she had wished. The cat was in her usual spot by my mother’s head. When the funeral home arrived to take my mother’s body, the cat refused to leave the bed. After my mom was gone, the cat paced up and down the bed, letting out low, loud meows—a heartbreaking sound that was pure grief.

After about 15 minutes of this, I couldn’t bear it any longer and gently scooped her up in my arms. It was the first time she had ever allowed me to hold her, but from that moment on, she became my shadow. She also grew much bolder.

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I’ve had cats all my life, but this was the only time I had ever witnessed a cat grieve💔.”

The near death experience of Penny Wittbrodt

Unruly behavior in real-world courtrooms is rare. Offhand, I can think of only one outburst that I have personally witnessed.

The plaintiff was a former employee of the defendant’s auto body shop. The plaintiff claimed that he had been fired for complaining about unsafe working conditions in the body shop.

At trial, the plaintiff presented evidence of unsafe working conditions that would make your hair stand on end. By the time the plaintiff concluded his case in chief, it was clear to everyone in the courtroom that the defendant was … well, let’s just say that he was one of those people you’d really, really, really, really, really like to throw the book at.

Next, it was the defendant’s turn to testify. For several minutes, he tried to paint the plaintiff as a whiny slacker who was looking for an excuse to get out of doing any work.

Finally, the plaintiff couldn’t stand it any more. He yelled, “I welded in the paint room!”

The judge didn’t say a word.

By that point in the trial, the plaintiff had already established that the defendant was the kind of person who would order an employee to weld in the same room where cars were being spray painted. And everyone was so fed up with the defendant that nobody seemed to care about the plaintiff’s outburst.

Moral of the story: When you order employees to work under conditions that create a risk of blowing up the entire workplace, you shouldn’t be too surprised when one of those employees blows up in the courtroom.

Meet !!! New China’s Gyrocopters Armed With Anti Tank Missiles, is Amazing attack Helicopter

I was 17, about to turn 18 the next month. I knew I needed to start building credit, but given my only income was about 12 hours/week at $8/hour, not many places were keen on giving me a credit card much less without a co-signer (and I did not want a co-signer since it was my credit so my problem).

I finally found a credit card through Bank of America (my current bank too) that had about a $300 limit. Cool, I finally have a credit card!

As I was grabbing my paperwork and about to leave, the teller says,

“Hold on! I forgot to tell you one thing about this card!”

“Yes?” I answered hesitantly. I had already gone through the wringer looking for a card that I can qualify for, and the last thing I needed was another caveat.

“Your card has a cash-back feature as a promotion!” the teller beamed. “That means if you spend $1.95, we will round up the purchase to $2. $1.95 will go to the purchase, and $0.05 will go into your savings.”

“Okay,” I think, “it’s a way to get people to save more money. But how is this a promotion?”

“And,” the teller continued, “Bank of America will match those funds transferred to your savings account 100% for the the first three months of owning the card!”

Whoops, wrong thing to say to a very ambitious 17-year-old.

I immediately began scheming of ways to exploit this. Heck, I figured all I had to do was change my buying habits. The issue was, what do I purchase that I can really exploit this?

Then it hit me: I can buy gas.

Instead of filling up I would put $1.01 into my tank multiple times. Then Bank of America would match the $0.99 cents transferred to my savings account. Sure, it was tedious, but doing this for an hour I would make way more than when I worked at my actual job.

In the end I wasn’t as disciplined with this method as I would have liked. Frankly I felt very suspicious standing at the gas pump for half an hour.

I wound up making around $150 using this “exploit” (I use quotations because if a 17-year-old can outsmart Bank of America, it had to be designed with this sort of use in mind.).

The funniest moment was when I told the teller at the bank what I had done at the end of the three months. Her face looked something like this:

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The biggest category banned by the Chinese government is not politics, but porn, violence, adultery, gambling, and drug-use. Most PG13 movies and games would be judged as “too much breast” or “too violent” by the Chinese standard. Without the ban China would be the biggest market in the world for Japanese or Korean porn.

This is considered to have too much skin and the TV series was taken off air for three days to crop off the cleavage.

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Viewers complain after censors remove cleavage from Chinese TV show

If the government doesn’t do anything, some other people in China will complain about the government not doing enough to ban it.

The Chinese government is one giant parental control.

On the other hand, China has less rules/laws/social norms than most other places. There are fewer things you can’t imagine than things that actually occur in China. For example, take funeral. On the one hand, you have people hiring strippers to strip in funeral processions in order to attract a big crowd, like, let’s give the dead a big send-off. No More Funeral Strippers, Chinese Government Announces. On the other side of the spectrum, you have people blasting national anthem for funerals of some random people. China Bans National Anthem at Weddings, Funerals Why would people do this sort of stuff is just beyond me!

According to United Nations data, there are about 30 countries in the world that qualify as developed countries.

But countries like South Korea and Singapore can only be considered entry-level developed countries.

But there are only 7 truly developed countries: the United States, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, Japan, Italy, and Canada.

They are also called G7.

From the end of World War II to the present, developed countries around the world have become richer, and poor countries have become poorer.
Apart from a few examples, such as South Korea and Singapore, almost no other country has gone from poverty to wealth, and none of the large countries have done so.

It stands to reason that during the 70 years of peace, people in every country have been working hard, wealth should naturally grow and accumulate, and poor countries should gradually become richer.
But why does the list of rich countries almost never change?

Are Vietnamese lazier than Americans? Or are Malaysians dumber than British people?

I think neither.

There is something wrong with the rules of the game in this world.

The rules of the game set by rich countries are like a wall that keeps poor countries out.

They can plunder the wealth of poor countries without sending colonial troops.

This means that the rewards that young people in poor countries can get from working hard in the mines for a year are not as good as young people in developed countries from a simple transaction in stocks.

An elderly person in a poor country who has to rummage through garbage dumps for a month cannot compare with what an elderly person in a rich country can get from queuing for ten minutes at a relief station.

This is a problem with the rules of the game. Seventy years of experience show that under the current rules of the game, it is difficult for poor countries to rise.

The existing rules are like a rich country riding in an SUV and seeing a poor country struggling in the desert about to die of thirst, dropping a bottle of water: Hey, I saved you, so you have to work for me for a year. It’s a job, take it or die.

In order to survive, poor countries have to accept that. It is the rules of the game.

In the past, the world had no choice other than the existing rules of the game.

Now, China has given a new option. The Chinese promise to help you dig a well on the condition that they share the output of the well.
Although whether this new option will work, no one knows yet. But any government that wants its country to improve will try to seize this opportunity.

The rich countries will shout, Hey: China’s wells are poisonous, don’t be fooled!
who cares?

Because while they are shouting, they are not giving another well to the poor countries. They hope to continue handing out bottled water and continue the old game.

EMBARASSING! Women Score Higher In EVERY CATEGORY

Yes, Rome continued to be inhabited after it’s final “fall” in 476 C.E.

However, Rome depended on its massive Empire to provide it with food and wealth, with that gone, the city was unsustainable. Once home to a million people, within a century the population had fallen to about 10% of that. For the most part, there simply weren’t enough people to maintain the grandeur of the city. Within two centuries, most people who lived in Rome had no idea what the buildings used to be used for (like the Coliseum)

Rome’s also in an area that gets earthquakes, and between the fall of Rome and modern times there were a few quite substantial ones. No-one is going to bother repairing structures that collapse. In fact, by the 19th century, most of the city’s old marble was being ground up for cement.

A good modern parallel is Detroit, Michigan. Yes, about 600,000 people still live there, but the city used to hold over 1.8 million people. Buildings got abandoned. Some were torn down. Some are still there. Some of the old buildings have been restored to their former glory. But there are still a lot of places in the city that are crumbling and abandoned.

Shorpy

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Initially, Elvis believed, as many did, that the Vietnam War was an honorable war between good and evil. But, as the years dragged on and the Vietnam casualties were shown every night on TV it became clear to Elvis, and millions, that Americans were being lied to. That the mentality of “we captured this piece of land = victory in war” was unattainable.

The Vietnam War divided America. On one side was the let’s support our troops and win this war and on the other side was we should get out of this war…now.

Hence, Elvis wanted us out of Vietnam as it was unwinnable

Elvis’ infamous flight to Washington DC, in December of 1970which was completely out of character for Elvis as he went alone and on the spur of the moment without anyone knowing other than Sonny West (Red West’s cousin) and Jerry Schilling, where Elvis met with President Richard Nixon and there are photographs of them together at the White House.

On the plane ride to Washington DC Elvis was talking to them, known then as stewardesses who were enthralled by Elvis a young man in uniform stood up to ask for water. With Elvis having honorably served in the US Army from March 1958 to March 1960 he was taken aback by the tortuous look on the man’s face with his head down barely making eye contact.

Elvis asked him his name. Asked him about where he was headed after landing and the man replied he was going to propose to his girlfriend of 2 years. Elvis was careful not to bring up anything about the war and concentrated on the young man who is fighting for his country. Elvis gave the young man an autograph, a ring off his hand, and asked Sonny West how much money they had on them. Sonny West, in Red Wests and. or Joe Esposito’s absence, handled bringing money and replied “Five thousand dollars” OR five hundred dollars depending on the source. Elvis said to hand it over to him. Elvis immediately went back to the young man and said “I wish I could give you more but perhaps this will benefit you and your loved ones”. Elvis then had Jerry write down the phone numbers at Graceland and in California and told the man if he ever needed anything to please let Elvis know. The soldier was speechless and Elvis told him to take care and may God bless you and keep you safe.

Elvis then put on his sunglasses not because of the sun but to hide his tears from everyone. Elvis was deeply moved by the soldier as it represented thousands of young men who went off to war and either never came back or came back being spit upon called war criminals and had mental and physical harm/nightmares.

Elvis knew that the last war America fought, the Korean War should have taught America that either you overwhelm the enemy with bombs and/or troops OR don’t go to war. What Elvis saw of Vietnam when he met Richard Nixon was a quagmire. A never-ending war. Elvis asked President Nixon about the Vietnam War and if the troops had everything they needed. President Nixon said yes. Even Nixon would be lied to by General William Westmoreland and America would learn of Westmoreland’s lies, at a later date, and be horrified. Also, Elvis knew that the rich and powerful were able to keep their children out of the war and/or those young men in college were able to stay out of the war and adversely affected the poor, middle class, and without political connections were sent to war. It was wrong then and it is wrong now.

Elvis loved America but he came to hold the opinion that the war should end and our troops to come home. less than 3 years after meeting President Nixon the President ordered all troops home. Elvis’ heart went out to those who died, were disabled, and their family/loved ones.

Take care

My Wife Has Known For 8 YEARS That Her Best Friend’s Husband Punched My Son And NEVER Told Me!

This is Larry Fink.

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He’s a guy most people have never heard of, and that’s entirely on purpose. While he may not be super well-known, he’s the CEO & Founder of what may be a company that quite literally owns the world: BlackRock.


BlackRock is a lot more powerful than people know. They control and own:

  • Most US Banks (such as Bank of America and Chase Bank).
  • Major oil companies (like Exxon and Chevron).
  • All of the major pharmaceutical companies in the world (such as Pfizer and Johnson & Johnson).
  • Most of the mainstream media (such as CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC).
  • The supervision of nearly 10% of all stocks traded worldwide.

They quite literally hold a slice of every pie in the world. In fact, they have a whopping $10 trillion in assets — nearly half America’s total GDP.

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BlackRock is so influential that the US and Chinese Governments even relied on the company to escape recessions.


Being the Founder & CEO of such a mega-conglomerate, Fink is now quite powerful as well. He currently sits on both the Council on Foreign Relations and the World Economic Forum.

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In the words of Henry Kissinger, “Whoever controls the money controls the world”. No other company in history has had as much influence as BlackRock.


The fact that BlackRock is a major shareholder in dozens of major companies (Twitter, Amazon, Google, and Facebook, just to name a few) is very important because it means that for any of these companies to decide on company policy, they must now also consult with BlackRock before doing so.

 

BlackRock’s influence over 90% of the mainstream media might also be why you’ve probably never heard of them (and why most people haven’t).

Controlling media is a very important step in BlackRock continuing to extend its control over the world, because if everyone knew the consequences of them holding nearly $10 trillion in assets, questions would start to be raised.

Such an unchecked amount of power (especially under the wing of Fink being the sole company owner) means that the guy has unparalleled amounts of power over the world that we may yet to truly understand.

7 MINS AGO: China’s Yuan JUST SURPASSED the US Dollar… & U.S. Is SCRAMBLING!

I live near a fruit shop where all they sell is mostly oranges for 1$ per orange. They open at 10 AM and they close at 11 AM, and usually sell around 60 oranges per day, which means regular clients and the owner are used to selling an average of one orange per minute at 1$ per orange.

I am a scammer, and I want to take advantage of the fruit shop by manipulating the orange market of my neighbourhood. This is how I can do so:

First, I will buy 5 oranges at 1$ per orange and store them in the fridge.

The next day I will hire 10 slackers who have not much to do – they will be my “pump group”. I’ll pay them some money to go to the fruit shop at 10:15 AM, which is the time where the street is the busiest, so that many people can see what they do. They will each buy one or two oranges, but they’ll do so all at once and with a visible sense of urgency. This way, two things will happen:

  1. Fear of missing out (FOMO): People in the proximities of the fruit shop will feel like not purchasing oranges has a high opportunity cost. In other words, they will believe that if a group of people are rushing to buy oranges, then the deal at hand must be too good to pass up.
  2. Demand surplus: The shop owner senses a sudden demand surge, indicating that his oranges might be underpriced. He thinks their their market cap is lower than their real value because all of a sudden he has more customers than he can handle. This forces the shop owner to immediately raise the price of the oranges. Now, the price is not 1$ per orange, but 3$ per orange.

As orange prices keep on rising and people start to queue up outside the store, the price keeps on rising until 11 AM, the closing time. At 10:55, the shop owner raises the price one last time: 6$ per orange. At that moment, I come down from my house, triumphantly showing off my basket filled with the 5 oranges I had bought at 1$ per orange. I sit next to the shop and sell the oranges at their current market cap, 6$ per orange. I have invested 5$ in oranges and 10$ in hiring my pump group, and I have made 30$ selling the oranges – which is a return on investment (ROI) of 200%.

But the next day, people exit the ecstasy and delusions induced by my fraudulent scheme, and they figure out that they have spent 3–6 $ in buying oranges whose real value is, in fact, just 1$. The price quickly falls back down to 1$, and those in possession of the oranges realise their assets were only artificially valuable for a short period of time, losing their money to me.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled History…

Submitted into Contest #243 in response to: Write a story imagining ‘what if’ one historic invention had never happened. How would our world be different now? view prompt

Samuel Jackson

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

October 30th, 1938… It was supposed to be a harmless radio broadcast, or so they say. None of us really knew at the time. The blackout came without warning, cutting off the radio’s descriptions of an extraterrestrial ship which had just landed in Grovers Mill, New Jersey. As far as we could put together, aliens had just come down from space, and shortly after, we’d lost all power. The assumptions were widespread, resulting in a mass panic that had struck the city of Mobile, Alabama within minutes. A once beautiful city, now suffering the same fate as every other major metropolitan center in our country. Riots, looting, genocide, suicide, patricide, and every other ‘cide you can think of. It was just supposed to be a harmless radio broadcast. So why then, did so many people have to die?My memories of that night still plague me like a demented song whose melody haunts your every thought. I remember the beads of sweat rolling down my daddy’s balding head, barely illuminated over his dark skin, yet only visible when we’d passed under the streetlights. His fingertips were nearly white, crushing the little bones of my hand as he pulled me behind him, while desperately gripping his grand-daddy’s six-shooter. Our bodies jerked from side to side, weaving between overturned cars and maniacal crowds. The smell of burnt rubber and seared flesh wafted through the humid air, forcing me to hold back the vomit that curled inside my throat. Flames spread over the passing rooftops, and billowed from every window.I still remember the bodies whose shadows glimpsed the fire on the way down before impact. The child was first. Just a girl, like me, silently gliding through the air. I felt her thud vibrate through the concrete. The woman was next, unable to mask her terror through scratchy cries. Would my mother have done the same to me? My daddy told me not to look, but how do you not? His pull had to guide my steps as I stared at those corpses who swam in an expanding pool of their own blood, and the strangers who later ran over them without care or concern.Several minutes passed. The heat was scorching our faces, and the rough terrain was ripping the blisters off my bare feet. We thought we could actually make it, having come this far, but our hope fell short the moment we saw the slobbering jowls of starving lions ahead. A group of young men, their skin pale white even amidst the darkness, with bleached yellow hair that contrasted the blood-stained letterman jackets. Roll Tide. My daddy jerked me to his side violently, bouncing the sights of his pistol between them. They laughed, taunting him as they circled around us, drawing my daddy’s grip tighter. I glanced up at his face which fell sullen, his shoulders dropping in a sort of defeat as a single tear mixed with the river of sweat on his cheek.He nodded, meeting my eyes, and let a single word slip from his lips. Run. I hesitated, until a violent push thrusted me forward. The momentum strained my balance, but after finding my footing I broke into a full sprint. The man in front of me fell, and then the man beside him. I saw the holes open their chests and felt the splatter of warm liquid on my face, but I never heard the shots. I couldn’t tell you how many bullets my daddy got off before their rusted pipes and rubber soles drained him of his final breaths.I just kept running, the minutes passing like hours, creeping through the shadows to avoid the cries and despair of the dangers around me. Eventually, when fear got the best of me, I dove into a pile of trash I’d found which was stacked against a brick building at the corner of some dark alley. I crawled deep inside, befriending the scurrying rats and a potent aroma of rotting food. My body curled into itself as I desperately held my palms over my ears. I thought I could drown out the noise, but it took all night for the screams to eventually stop. I was too scared to leave, so I let the fear keep me there for over two days, until the knots of hunger were so unbearable that I had to move, unable to keep feeding on the molded bones and maggots which carpeted my dry, split lips. When I’d finally carried myself out of the trash and into the street, the maggots and bones seemed a welcome treat. The streets had grown flesh, its bones poking out from the sidewalks, and the buildings had all but burnt away. With nowhere to go, and a belly wrought with hunger, I just started walking. It’s all I could do.

*  *  *

I toss, unable to find sleep. It’s been nearly thirty years since that night, and the shades of the past still drop by unannounced from time to time. I read a quote once, while sifting through a half-burnt book I’d discovered on the side of a desolate highway. It said, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Well, that may be true, but we certainly found a way to destroy her in one. We still don’t know what knocked out the power that night, or why it happened to coincide with a harmless radio show about an alien invasion. Some say it was divine intervention, that God wanted to set back the clock to teach us a lesson. Maybe that’s true, but what happened that night didn’t set back the clock, it destroyed it altogether. Without electricity, we’d lost all sense of time, and had no communication systems to connect us. The number of minds who understood the science behind that craft were already slim, and thanks to the impulsivity of humanity, most ended up dying helplessly during the chaos, while several others were publicly executed for being part of the so-called conspiracy – giving up the world to invading space-folk.

Whether it was divine intervention or not, we lost ourselves to ignorance. Parents killing children, children killing their parents, religious cults killing themselves, crazed individuals running the streets killing each other, as they did my daddy. Every city was a victim, filled with so many bodies that within only a few weeks, the diseases started to spread rapidly. As if that night wasn’t devastating enough, millions more began falling ill and dying. We had few doctors, and less medicine, with no way of knowing which diseases were running wild. Still without communications, groups of survivors had banded together to increase their odds. It would be almost five years before reliable communication systems were set up in the big cities, and almost twice as long before the smaller colonies were gifted the same privilege.

Once we could communicate, we began to piece together the mystery of what happened. No one had any answers, at least none that made any sense. The closest answer that carried some semblance of scientific evidence came from a German scientist who somehow made his way over from Europe to meet with the former President of our divided states – which were now governed independently, each colony providing its own security forces and laws. After explaining how it wasn’t just our country who’d lost power, but the whole world, at least from what he’d gathered during his travels, he tried to propose that it was the sun who was the culprit for the electronics loss. A solar event, he called it. His evidence was slim, and only theoretical, based on weapons research they’d been doing in Germany under some leader named Hitler, but it made more sense than the non-existent aliens who wiped out our power just to disguise themselves as humans so they could take over our planet – which was the running theory up to that point.

Personally, I believe that scientist was on to something. I can’t prove it, because I’m not a genius, but when I discovered this place, I’d found stacks of old newspapers, many of the final headlines speaking about that Hitler guy and rumors of the advanced scientific research which were coming out of Germany before the blackout. In fact, I’ve found a lot of interesting things down here, including hundreds of stories, poems, and encyclopedias, conveniently organized and laid out on dozens of wooden shelves that line the entire room, just begging for someone to find them. Then again, if someone had, they wouldn’t be here anymore.

The first time I saw a library burned to the ground was a few months after the big cities had established their new communications systems. When copies of that fateful radio broadcast were found amongst the ruins, we stored them in order to provide a name to the man who’d killed an entire nation overnight. Orson Wells became the most hated figure in our recollected history, more despised than Ghangis Khan or Joseph Stalin. As soon as knowledge spread that his broadcast was based off one of his novels, War of the Worlds, a nationwide directive was ordered – the destruction of all literature. The colonies believed that if one book could destroy a country, then new safeguards must be put in place to avoid another incident. They claimed that books were necessary, of course, but new guidelines were needed to regulate their information. Since there wasn’t enough manpower to critique every literary work released up to that point, they decided to institute a law banning all books printed before the year 1938. In other words, a clean slate.

Every library and bookstore within our borders were sought out and set to flames. The amount of knowledge lost was devastating, which made it all the more surprising when I found this treasure trove underneath the floorboards of an abandoned house just outside of what used to be Fayetteville, Arkansas – now one of the largest black-only communities in the country. This basement held the clues to our past, and I knew that someone had to protect it for that reason alone. Since I’ve always preferred solitude anyways, I made it my home, and for the last fourteen years, while the states have relied on the nationwide education radio broadcasts or one of only thirteen books to have been published in almost thirty years, I’ve relied on these classics to educate me – which up until now, had been a soothing thought. Unfortunately, despite my “advantageous” education, I still failed to avoid a basic mistake that resulted in the blood of two more men staining my hands. I’m so tired.

I force myself to my feet, realizing that sleep is no longer on the table. I give a quick glance to the Anti-Orson Wells poster across the room which I’d conveniently stolen and put up a few years ago. It’s an irony in this kind of place, which adds a daily dose of humor to my mornings. According to the weekly broadcast I’d caught in town on my last visit, today was the day they are reinstating a new calendar system. We’re bringing in the dawn of a new age, they said. We no longer need to fear our history, because our history starts today!

Nice tagline, but it’s all a joke if you ask me. We’re supposed to be relishing in what should be 1967, yet our technology has barely surpassed the day we lost it, probably because it took a decade’s worth of negotiations before the states would finally work together. We have no more movies, no books, no fairy tales to teach our young. No princesses in need of help, or princes coming to save the day. No knights to protect us from dragons. No Shakespearean poetry to teach us about love, vengeance, or ambition. No whales to hunt down, or rabbit holes to fall into. No more God, science, or philosophy. They say our history begins today, but our history goes back thousands of years, and people chose to let it go because of one broadcast, which was prematurely cutoff before it could announce that it was only fiction, aired at the worst possible time.

I stroll over to the small window that’s carved into the concrete above. Peering through the vines and into the feint stars of the night sky, I wonder if my daddy’s up there somewhere. Can he see me? Is he proud of who I became? Would he be proud of what I’d just done? Or what I’ve had to do in the past? The moon peeks around the corner of the glass, drawing my attention. Would we have found our way to its surface by now? Could we have gazed back from that bright ocean towards an Earth whose face still remains a mystery to us? A shifting blanket breaks my focus.

My eyes hesitantly find the girl across the room, wearily lying on the floor. The gashes in her feet have stopped bleeding, and the bruises around her mahogany wrists seem less defined. I couldn’t tell by her words, because there were none before she passed out, only the frantic sounds of footsteps above before stumbling head-first down my staircase. I was so careless to have left the hatch open. I know better, and now, the two men pursuing her have donated their flesh to feed the insects outside because I slipped up. And worse, I must decide whether to add one more dish to the feast, a living witness to my illegal possessions sleeping only a few meters away.

If she wakes, she becomes my walking-executioner, holding a gun to my head with every breath of her existence. For all I know, this is one of the last collections like this to exist. When our country decided to burn away our history, the world followed, seeing some poisoned sense of reason behind the act. If a thousand holes with a thousand books still exist in these divided states, that’s still a thousand times less than what should be, and I am the one who came upon this house, meaning that I’m the one who God has chosen to protect this particular Holy Grail. I cannot take that lightly, nor can I let the impulses of a teenage girl erase what little stories we have left to rely on. It’s too risky, because I know how she has been conditioned. Every youth of the new world are narcs, squealing on those with a differing opinion or desire – basically anyone who wishes to return us to how things were before. No, I can’t trust her.

I spot my knife, sitting on the edge of the nightstand just beyond her body. My shadow creeps across the wall as I move through the dying incandescence of the candle in the distance. My feet are careful not to bump anything on the way over, their familiarity with the terrain being an unexpected advantage. Reaching the nightstand, her face comes into view, possessed by dreams which force a shuddering inside her eyelids. She’s gone, far away from this place. If I do it now, she’ll fade permanently into that dreamland, without suffering the terror of watching her reality disappear before her eyes. Just one quick stroke to the back of the neck and it’ll all be over.

I silently slip my knife from its sheath, then carefully step over her body. Her hair is parted down the middle, one side resting over a drooping shoulder, the other falling away towards the floor. The ridges of her spine reveal signs of malnutrition, but also deliver a clear view of the sweet spot my knife blade needs, as if God were granting me permission to carry out this saving grace. The edge of the steel hovers over her skin. I shift my weight forward, gripping the handle tighter, and as the nerves begin to fire my muscles into action, I prepare myself for a struggle.

The blade jerks as it enters, catching the tissues between the bones, but my force is still enough to separate the spinal cord. There was no movement, no fight left in her muscles. Her body accepted its final breath as peacefully as it fell asleep. My gaze remained fixed on the failing light of the candle, an eventual breath of relief falling over my lips. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and by the looks of it, had been the prisoner of those two pigs who were chasing her down. From her markings, she was probably their slave, or toy. I can’t imagine the trauma they put her through, or the courage it must have taken to escape them. But that’s not a good enough reason. Not for me.

I know how this world works. You give it an inch, and it finds a way to hang you with it. She’s not the only one who’s been used as a rag then discarded when you’re no longer useful. The years following the fall were full of senseless murders, rape, theft, and torture. She’s only a teenager. She doesn’t remember when the rules were made by the evilest of men and women, all of which wanting their piece of the pie, with many of them transforming into the shining lights of hope that now run these divided states. This world isn’t fair, it never was. For those who remember, they’d understand why this girl is bleeding out on my floor, and why I must protect these treasures around me. She’s not the first life I’ve taken. Hell, I’ve lost count to be honest. But she won’t be the one who takes mine, nor the one who burns this house to the ground with our history still inside. I’ve made sure of that…

Well, I guess I better get the shovel. I need some sleep.

Man Hit By Truck; Shown His Future And The Purpose Of Life During Shocking (NDE)

Theodore loved Liz and her daughter Molly with all his heart, but the relationship was compromised in the darker corners of life. They had lived different lives before they met, and even when they lived partly together, there always was Liz’s feeling that Theodore still had some hidden life apart.

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Sometimes he would be distant and absent, and the stark contrast with his usual very passionate and loving ways couldn’t be bigger. As if there was a second Theodore inside. And then he would disappear for a couple of days, and when he resurfaced (he always did), he was exhausted and depressed, taking long naps in which he wanted to escape the cruel world.

The weird thing was that Liz had started noticing that whenever Theodore disappeared for a couple of days, one or two women would disappear as well somewhere in the US, and in hindsight always in the exact same state where Theodore happened to be (for no good reason). But she never asked him the questions, because she knew what the answers were (and that he never would tell).

One time, she found a bag filled with women’s clothes in her apartment, and on another occasion, she found plaster of Paris in his desk drawer that he claimed he had taken when he was working in a medical supply house.

But when two young women disappeared at Lake Sammamish, Liz kept thinking about the cast the guy was wearing who was thought to have abducted and killed both women — “what a perfect weapon it would make for clubbing someone on the head.”

And needless to say, Theodore was nowhere around Liz’s place when the Lake Sammamish disappearings happened.

After his final arrest in Florida (in 1978), Theodore confessed to Liz over the phone that he was “controlled by a force he couldn’t contain.” In the days prior to the arrest, he had killed three women and disabled three further women for the rest of their lives:

“The force would just consume me. Like one night, I was walking by the campus and I followed this sorority girl. I didn’t want to follow her. I didn’t do anything but follow her and that’s how it was. I’d be out late at night and follow people like that … I’d try not to, but I’d do it anyway.”

The last murder victim was Kimberley Leach, and she had been tortured, abused and killed, and left in an abandoned pig farrowing shed. At the age of 14.

In his final days before being executed, Theodore Bundy finally admitted to having killed at least 30 women, committed acts of necrophilia with many of the corpses whom he hid on distant sites (until putrefaction made a halt to that), collected some of their body parts to further engage with in his (or Liz’s) apartment, and much much more.

But he still loved Liz Kloepfer and her daughter Molly till the very end.

Those are the people that scare me the most: the very monsters who are human beings at the same time, perfectly able to hide under their human nature —

And entirely invisible to the rest of us.

The Chinese 4-nanometer chiplet technology breakthrough in 2023

As TSMC has suffered setbacks in the research and development of advanced processes, the global chip industry has realized that the research and development of advanced chip processes is becoming increasingly difficult, and this path is becoming increasingly difficult to advance. Therefore, chip companies have been exploring new technical directions to improve chip performance, and chiplet technology is one of them. In this regard, Chinese chips have made significant progress.

Among the Chinese chip companies, JCET Group 长电科技 is one of the top three packaging and testing companies in the world and also the most technologically powerful chip packaging and testing company in China. It recently announced that it has successfully developed 4-nanometer chiplet technology with a packaging area of ​​up to 1500mm2 and achieved system-level packaging, ranking first in the world.

With the help of the advanced packaging technology, China can use mature processes to produce chips with leading performance. By packaging chips with different processes together, it can achieve 4-nanometer performance, thereby successfully circumventing the current limitations of EUV lithography machines on China’s development of advanced processes.

The Chinese breakthrough in chiplet technology has also been recognized by American chip companies. Recently, news indicated that another domestic packaging and testing company, Tongfu Microelectronics 通富微电, has successfully mass-produced 5-nanometer chiplet technology, with obvious technological advantages. Because its technology is advanced enough, even the American chip giant AMD has recognized its technological advantages and has therefore given 80% of its chip orders to Tongfu Microelectronics, and the contract period is as long as several years.

American chip companies with such advanced technology have all entrusted chip packaging to Tongfu Microelectronics, which shows that Chinese chip companies are already sufficiently advanced in chiplet technology.

The breakthrough in chiplet technology has undoubtedly opened a door for Chinese chips. The world’s leading chiplet technology will help the Chinese chip industry to solve the obstacles of chip technology and develop advanced chips. The performance-leading chips announced earlier by many chip companies such as Loongson are inseparable from domestic chiplet technology. Processors and memory chips produced with domestic 14nm technology are packaged together to reduce the communication time between various chips, which can achieve the purpose of improving performance.

Of course, China’s chip performance improvement is not limited to chiplet technology. China is also promoting the development of quantum chip and photonic chip technology. The Chinese Academy of Sciences has released 3-nanometer photonic transistor technology. Such advanced technology will be able to bypass the limitations of EUV lithography machines, but it will take time for photonic chips to be commercialized, and chiplet chip technology is a more realistic technology at present.

The fact that China has made breakthroughs in many chip technologies shows that many of the US tactics are gradually becoming ineffective. With the joint efforts of Chinese chips, China will soon be able to break the shackles of EUV lithography machines and may even gain a technological lead in the chip industry in the next few years, completely breaking the US monopoly on chip technology.

Chinese chips are beginning to burst out with unlimited potential. The Chinese are constantly creating their own chip technology system. After establishing an independent technology system, Chinese chips will surely be invincible.

China’s Diplomacy, Geopolitics & Defense

Godfree Roberts

Diplomacy

Leaders from 54 African countries with 30% of the world’s population attended FOCAC. Xi: “We have together built roads, railways, schools, hospitals, industrial parks, and special economic zones. These projects have changed the lives and destiny of many people”. He committed another $50 billion to continue the work and canceled all tariffs for 33 African countries. The effect will be increased exports from Africa to China.

The greatest demographic fact of our century is Africa’s exponential growth. UN forecasts say its population will grow from 811 million in 2000 to 4.3 billion in 2100, a vastly significant megatrend.

American voters want U.S. China policy to be “smart, firm, strong, and diplomatic.” Only 13% want an aggressive approach and 5% want a confrontational one. 73% say the U.S. should hold high-level diplomatic talks with China.

The UN General Assembly adopted two Chinese resolutins: The first is that July 6 will be “World Rural Development Day” (America has always been hostile to development in foreign countries and China is seeking to have development recognized as a human right). The second, the “United Nations Games” resolution, calls for convening the UN Games annually and invites relevant stakeholders to make voluntary contributions to a trust fund dedicated to the Games (a shot across the bow of the corrupt, US-controlled IOC).

Geopolitics

The United States is losing ground in important parts of Asia. “For these poor but growing countries, the American mortgage crisis was a staggering affair: why give poor people high-interest mortgages when they know they won’t be able to pay them back? Morality at zero. The irresponsibility of the United States was soon joined by that of Europe, so slow to react. In truth, it was China’s massive stimulus policy that pulled the world out of recession. The emergence of the BRICs rebounds from this double Western irresponsibility.”

By letting Jews plant bombs in electronic consumer devices, the West has undermined its own and Taiwan’s tech products and boosted China’s. Saudi Arabia and the UAE have switched to Huawei phones and telecoms, with the rest of MENA

expected to follow suit. After Crown Prince Salman revealed that the Royal Family uses custom Huawei phones, Huawei became flooded with orders.

The 2018 and 2019 ZTE and the Huawei incidents forced a reckoning across Chinese industry and government: the flick of a pen from halfway around the world could, at least temporarily, cripple two technological crown jewels. Beijing set up a national technology security system to better protect its high-tech firms.” The government’s main science funding body launched an emergency project to study and solve the  “chokepoint problem.” And state media published a list of 35 chokepoint technologies on which China urgently needed to reduce its foreign dependence.

300 German companies in China criticize the slow visa process for Chinese employees. In a letter to German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock, “ the qualification of Chinese employees in Germany and joint project development are crucial to the success of German companies. We are concerned that there are still difficulties in providing Chinese employees of German companies with visas for Germany in a timely manner”.

BRICS lays the foundation for decoupling from US agriculture with the development of a post-American international economic system. This includes a grain exchange, new logistic centers, transportation infrastructure, development banks, insurance systems, native technologies and digital platforms, de-dollarisation, and the abandonment of the SWIFT transaction system. The US weaponisation of trade will continue to encourage the rest of the world to reduce their dependence on the US and find more reliable economic partners.

The CIA was attempting to set up hundreds of paramilitary officers in North Korea. What struck him as a spectacular secret was a CIA cover organization called the SEA Supply Company. In a few years, this group would be training police forces in Thailand, but in the immediate term Smith discovered that SEA Supply was involved in planning an invasion of China through the CIA Station in Taiwan with the help of the Nationalist Chinese (Kuomintang or KMT), stationed in Burma. General Stilwell’s deputy, Desmond FitzGerald, ran the operation, which had the goal of invading China from Burma through Yunnan province.

The last CIA-sponsored invasion of China occurred in August 1952, when 2,100 KMT troops led by General Li Mi were turned back by the Chinese army after penetrating 60 miles inland. Then Li Mi gave up on his goal of taking over China and focused on controlling the opium trade with his 12,000 troops located in Burma. “Li Mi’s troops would not give up their Burmese poppy fields,” Smith wrote, “because of the problems that it could lead to in this still explosive part of the world.”

In July 2024, a Chinese tourist was murdered in Osaka. In February 2024, a Chinese student was murdered in Japan’s Hamana lake. In August 2024, a Chinese student was stabbed to death by a Japanese.

​​Defense

Egypt operates 220 F-16s with no beyond visual range air-to-surface weapons whatsoever, and Washington offered Cairo the upgraded F-16V, but the cost was too high. The U.S. sold 66 F-16Vs to Taiwan for $8 billion, or $121 million per jet. By contrast, Pakistan signed a $1.4 billion deal with China in 2009 to buy 36 J-10Bs at $39 million each. The J-10C offers superior combat capabilities to the enhanced F-16V at a comparable cost. The J-10C can carry the PL-15 300 km range missile.

USN fanboys become furious when I point out that silly FONOPs in the South China Sea are under constant surveillance and can be hit by hypersonic missiles from multiple directions. FONOPs symbolism works for people ignorant about modern weapon systems, satellite coverage, etc. In other words, how a 21st century naval war (which no one has ever seen) might be fought. PRC remote sensing capability is now very advanced, and they have developed a 10B parameter transformer specifically for processing remote sensing data: Having a 300 remote sensing sat constellation like Jilin-1 that can see object move w/ 0.5m precision & able to revisit location every 5 minutes. How much data has been collected from silly FONOPs that was then used to train the remote sensing transformer?

China just released Kongtian Lingmou 3.0, the world’s first 10 billion parameter space-air remote sensing interpretation model. It can process massive datasets and complete space-air tasks, like fine classification and tracking small moving targets. Pair that with the 10 billion model and tracking ships 6000 nm away wouldn’t be much of an issue. And  that’s just their civilian constellation. TP Huang

China’s VT-4 main battle tank has successfully completed assessments in Algeria, The VT-4 boasts very high levels of mobility, with its 1,300 hp diesel engine ensuring a high power-weight ratio. The tank benefits from torsion bar suspension, an integrated hydraulic transmission system, and automatic gear transmission for steering and acceleration. It uses an autoloader allowing its weight to be reduced considerably and its crew cut from four to just three. The tank uses a 125mm main gun, while Japanese and South Korean tanks use 120mm guns. The tank uses composite armor and FY-4 explosive reactive armor for protection, equivalent to 700mm of protection.

A more detailed look at China’s mysterious stealth frigate, a technology demonstrator for the next generation of warships. China produces more destroyers than the next several producers combined, and has in some years launched ten destroyers in a single year. Only six countries in the world field more than ten destroyers in their entire fleets, with the U.S. Navy fielding 75, Japan 36, and South Korea 13.

The first Yulan-class landing helicopter assault (LHA) ship, the Type 076, will be the world’s largest amphibious assault ship, 260 m. x 52 m, or 13,500 m2—the area of three U.S. football fields, considerably larger than the U.S. America-class LHA and Japanese Izumo-class. Its electric catapult will launch fixed-wing aircraft, unique among LHAs, and an aircraft elevator on each side for lifting aircraft from the internal hangar to the flight deck. The 076 may launch fixed-wing aircraft, or at least fixed-wing combat UAVs, putting the Type 076 in a class of its own. It features a floodable well deck on its stern, for launching amphibious vehicles for “ship-to-shore” operations.

Egypt placed its first order for Chinese  J-10C fourth generation fighters, following its admission to BRICS. The J-10C is far more capable than any fighter in the Israeli fleet other than its two squadrons of F-35s, with large scale acquisitions potentially forcing Israel to expand F-35 orders and to invest in more capable air to air missiles for its aircraft.

Two huge container ships for the first time passed each other just 750 nautical miles from the North Pole, en route to connecting Chinese ports to Russia’s Saint Petersburg. Flying Fish 1, the first-ever Panamax container ship to venture into the Arctic, is traveling from Saint Petersburg in the Baltic Sea to Qingdao in northeastern China. Carrying close to 5,000 containers across a length of 294 meters it sets a new record for largest box ship to travel across Russia’s Northern Sea Route.

Chinese scientists use Starlink satellite signals to detect stealth targets during a radar experiment in the South China Sea. The detection method relies on forward scatter, where an object like a plane or drone disrupts electromagnetic waves from a satellite, causing small signal disturbances, which are captured and analyzed to determine the object’s location. This technique does not require the radar to emit signals, making it harder for adversaries to detect or jam.

Many of them are mentally fixed. As such they saw something in the past and think nothing has changed.

It doesn’t look like that anymore. There’s been significant progress. Some think of 1960s, 1950s is similar to modern day China. In the UK I remember some retirees they were talking as if Chiang Kai Shek or Mao was still alive. They’ve been dead 40+ years.

It’s like these videos of American schools in the 1980s-1990s. It doesn’t look like that anymore. The children got heavier and wider.

Barring visiting themselves they often don’t see it and have no reason to change their point of view. Add in the absolute lies told by western media and the paid comments by the western world (UK has 77th brigade) and censors western media to block out alternative views.

A realistic picture can only be found by going there and looking yourself.

So what’s the problem?

You ever read Orwell’s 1984? Prisoners are paraded around before their ‘disposal’. Winston surmises that if the average prole managed to talk to the prisoners they’d realise they were far more alike than they were told.

So what’s the problem? People can go there and go see for themselves!

The western world has travel advisories against China.

This means people can’t get travel insurance.

My dad keep a house in the UK. Before he had cancer travel insurance from the UK to HK/CHN (he sometimes flies in via Guangzhou airport or Shenzhen) travel insurance was insignificant as a cost. He could get travel insurance full medical evacuation type for £20 per trip or £110 a year.

He got cancer. He’s much better now. His travel insurance single trip is £300 and refused quote for a year. This is to Europe.

The travel advisories and alerts to China mean that you simply can’t get travel insurance to China at all. So the only people who go are the adventurous younger ones who travel without insurance.

I mean the USA does not look like this everywhere. I know this as do many people know this,

But guess what? The USA is denying many visas to Chinese people, so guess what? Chinese people can’t see that the USA doesn’t look like the above.

When we saw tears in my Dad’s eyes :- I still remember the incident, when my dad came home with tears in his eyes. At that time we (my elder brother and I) were in class 9, we asked dad, what happened? He said “I want to see you both as successful people, just focus on your studies.”

Later we came to know due to some family issue, my uncle hit my dad.

We were not good students at that point of time. In class 9, my brother scored 40/100 in Mathematics, while I scored 48/100. Next year in 10th U.P board exams, my brother scored 88/100 and I got 78/100 in mathematics. We both passed with first division.

After that, we never looked back.

12 years later –

Today I am working as a Senior Software Engineer in a leading Telecom company in Berlin, Germany and my elder brother is working as production manager in Shenzhen, China.

Yes, happy ending. 🙂

Edit 1 : Someone asked, how are my parents now & how are we taking care of them?

My parents are pretty good & we are taking care of them very well, soon they will be visiting me. Before moving to Germany, I worked in Malaysia with a leading American MNC. When I had to move to Germany, I called my Mom and Dad to Malaysia, I took them to Singapore and Cambodia too. This was the first time they traveled by plane. 🙂

My daughter helped me meet my affair at our house, but then the worst case scenario happened

Oh, these stories of mistakes and how they evolve are interesting and depressing at the same time.

https://youtu.be/ymhko4vtjzk

Success is a matter of adaptation

No, it was not originally designed as a military weapon. The designer was Eugene Stoner. He was a partner in the Armalite Rifle Company (that’s where the AR comes from). It was actually the AR-10 that he figured the military would want because it was a lighter version of the varies 30 caliber rifles used in WWII. But the military was not interested. The AR-15 rifle came about when he heard that Remington was developing the 223 caliber cartridge and was speculating that a more powerful version of a 22 caliber would sell to dad’s wanting a rifle for their sons to hunt small game. Stoner figured he had the other half of the equation – a lightweight rifle, easy for those young sons to carry.

Armalite was purchased by Fairchild Aviation and they attempted to market both the AR-10 and AR-15 to the Airforce. The Airforce bought 15,000 of them, but the program pretty much died after the initial purchase. It was not until Colt bought the designs in 1959. Colt understood how to make the designs into military grade weapons. Colt launched the Colt 601, 602, & 603 models. The Colt 603 is what became the military M16A1 in 1967. It resembled the AR-15 in looks, but the design modifications were extensive. Most notably, it can fire in automatic mode (a machine gun), or in a 3 bullet burst, or in semi-automatic mode. It also uses the more powerful 5.56mm cartridge (same basic bullet diameter as the 223 but measured in millimeters.

Colt kept the old AR-15 design and brought if out as the AR-15 Sporter. A civilian rifle for that dad with a young son he was teaching to hunt. It met with great opposition, until the kids of returning Vietnam war veterans saw it and wanted it because it looked like the gun dad fought with.

I am not a gun nut. I am an historian. There are countless stories about the AR-15, most don’t get it right. But I have seen most of original documents on the gun, patent filings, and letters of rejection from the military. In the early 50’s a low caliber gun like the AR-15 could not possibly of succeeded in the military. Their mindset was large bullets make one shot kills.

You would do well to learn your history through actual research, before you start calling people nuts and embarrassing yourself with garbage opinions you read on-line.

Chopped Steak Special

b7683162ec7a20dea8f08f5a6a8ee863
b7683162ec7a20dea8f08f5a6a8ee863

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground sirloin
  • 3 tablespoons grated or minced onion
  • 1 tablespoon minced chile pepper
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon spicy steak or Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/4 teaspoon green or red Tabasco sauce

Instructions

  1. Combine all ingredients until well mixed.
  2. Shape into four fat oval patties.
  3. Pan broil in a heavy skillet.

Restricting Words

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Imagine a world where exploration is forbidden, and write a story about a character who defies this rule to satisfy their innate curiosity. view prompt

Khadija S. Mohammad

Sakura whirled round at the sound of familiar footsteps, to see her closest friend, Yuto, running towards her – chased by the Restriction, which were only a few metres behind him. She opened her mouth to say something before realising that what she wanted to ask, What’s happening? – or more accurately, Why are they trying to get you? – wasn’t one of her speech options. She made do with a surprised open of her eyes accompanied by a questioning raise of her eyebrows.Thankfully, Yuto understood what she was trying to say. He pointed to his mouth and made a cross with his hands as he ran past her, the Restriction drones still chasing him with their antennae flashing red.Sakura turned and began running beside him, unsure of what else she should do.No. Yuto couldn’t mean… he couldn’t have said a non-option word. Sakura shook her head and mimed the gesture for Try again. He must have forgotten or misused a gesture – but he couldn’t have. They’d practised non-verbal communication together for hours in case they wanted to tell each other something that wasn’t a speech option. He had learnt the signs faster than she had. He couldn’t have made a mistake.Sure enough, Yuto repeated the communication with the same gestures. There was no doubt about it – he had said a non-option word. Why had he been so stupid, when he was normally so careful?Sakura mimed Thinking before outwardly shutting herself off. Her legs kept running beside him as if on auto mode as she considered what to do about the situation.After a moment of hard thinking, she snapped out of it and winced. She’d made her decision. It would be painful for both of them, but it was best. With shaky movements, she told him to stop running.An expression of panic took over Yuto’s face. Not you too? he gestured.You know I’d never do that, she mimed, hurt. I meant, they’re going to get you eventually. She pointed to the still-following Restriction, who were visibly catching up. They’ll force less time on you if you stop running now and try to look sorry for the word.Yuto laughed bitterly. Sakura winced again – had he forgotten their mind-chips monitored any noise out of their voice-box, not just words?It was more than a word, Yuto gestured.Oddly enough, this didn’t surprise Sakura. She knew Yuto well enough to know that if he lost his caution, he lost it completely. What was it, then? she asked. A sentence?I’ll tell you when I get out. And Yuto stopped running.It only took a small wave from her friend to make Sakura run on. She looked back with apprehension as the Restriction gathered around Yuto and separated his atoms to prepare him for the travel to his cell. She shook the word cell out of her head – it was safest not to use dangerous terms, in case they came out. They weren’t taking him to a cell. They were taking him to… a holding centre, so they could talk to him, make sure he didn’t want to start a rebellion. They might tie him up. Test him, hurt him, warp his senses and thoughts to muddle him, make him go almost insane, to force him to give them the answers they wanted, even though he couldn’t even give them since he didn’t know anything.She paused. Took a deep breath. Worrying wouldn’t help her. It wouldn’t help either of them.Before reaching home, she came across her older brother. She started, and ran towards him with a smile on her face. She hadn’t seen Kazuya for days, and she’d began to be scared in case her brother had been taken. It was an irrational fear, she knew, given Kazuya’s perfect conformance record, but it didn’t stop her worrying. 

She waved, mentally selecting the second ‘informal’ speech option. “Hi Kazuya!”

 

Kazuya smiled back at her. “Hi.”

 

Sakura searched her options for something that would get her message across, finally settling on the eighth. “How have you been?”

 

“I left on a business trip,” her brother replied almost instantly. Sakura envied his swiftness at choosing options – but then again, she would rather be herself, a slower-speaking individual, than him, a conformist who lived entirely on the Restriction’s rules. She pushed the thoughts away; she loved him, despite what the Restriction had turned him into. She did.

 

There was an awkward silence as Sakura searched the options for something appropriate for the occasion. “I’ve missed you,” she said awkwardly, at last.

 

“I’ve missed you too.” It was said automatically, as if it was the only speech option. As if it was a necessity, not a choice.

 

What if he’s been fully turned? Sakura thought as her brother walked away. She stiffened. What had she just thought? What if…

 

It was a beautiful pair of words, when she thought about it. But she’d never thought about it before, because she’d never thought it before. What if… It was an exciting sentence fragment. Could I… There was another one. Something in the back of her brain told her these were questions, but they weren’t like any questions she’d ever asked before.

 

Now she knew.

 

Her mind whirred as she made her way home. On recognising her mind-chip, her front door slid open. She walked through it, barely noticing the slight delay in its closing time.

 

Up in her room, she forced her mind onto her chip. She’d practised it so many times with Yuto. It had to work.

 

Focus. Focus on the chip. On its functions, on its existence. She repeated it like a mantra for an agonising minute before, finally, she felt something snap.

 

It hurt. It hurt as if part of her brain had been set on fire, but she remained steadfast, not allowing her thoughts to sway from the chip. When the fire died, she opened her eyes. She hadn’t even realised they were closed.

 

She knew the best way to test if the split from her chip had worked. There were no speech options when she was alone, so all she needed to do was say something. Anything would prove her chip had been successfully disconnected.

 

She opened her mouth. “Sakura.”

 

The code-word activated her bedroom’s hidden room – a safe place to hide anything she didn’t want the Restriction to find. The wall slid aside and slid back once she had entered.

 

Inside the room, lay a simple wooden desk, with a crude wooden chair in front of it. Sakura dropped into it thankfully. She rummaged through the vintage drawers and finally drew out a battered, crumpled piece of paper. She paused for a moment to enjoy the memory of her father that always came with the sight of that paper. He’d spent his last year teaching her to write so she could eventually use it, but he’d never told her what she would do with it. The most he’d said was that she would have to learn for herself if she wanted it to be useful.

 

With What if… readily in her mind, she knew what to do. She knew why the Restriction executed those who knew how to write. Knew why they gave everyone speech options instead of letting them talk how they wanted to. And best of all, she knew how to free herself from their bonds.

 

Gently, she placed the ragged paper on the desk and smoothed it out with one hand, using her other to search the drawer for a pencil – another of her father’s forbidden items. She placed it on the desk beside the paper, and took a deep breath. This was it. She could – she would – write, and she knew what to write.

 

She picked up the pen. Positioned it between her fingers the way her father had instructed. Bent down to the paper, and began.

 

Once upon a time…

Well This Is Strange…

A fly recorded on the ISS exterior camera?

Was there a palace coup at the White House?

by akrainer
Monday, Sep 23, 2024 – 21:36

Did we just have a palace coup in Washington? Originally published on Substack.

The events have taken a very strange turn in Washington DC this month. Britain’s new cabinet has made it a priority to escalate the West’s proxy war against Russia and to bring the U.S. and other allies onboard by hook or by crook. Part of the agenda was enabling the Ukrainians to strike at Russia with western supplied long-range precision missiles. This wouldn’t be a new thing exactly, but the escalation they are gunning for is quite substantial, involving possibly even nuclear weapons.

The groundwork for this escalation was being prepared for months. In March this year, the Biden administration approved a new “Nuclear Employment Guidance” in preparation to fight and “win” a three-front nuclear war against Russia, China and North Korea. They followed up with plans to deploy long-range nuclear missiles in Germany and Holland. The preparations were being coordinated between the Neocons in the Biden administration, led by the Secretary of State Antony Blinken, NATO and the members of British cabinets, both under Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and under the new PM Keir Starmer.

Starmer’s diplomatic charm offensive

Since its inauguration on July 5, 2024, the new Labour government in Britain immediately engaged in a flurry of diplomatic activity and meetings with many government leaders across Europe, Asia and the Middle East, much of it a charm offensive to “reset” the previously strained or neglected relationships. Within the cabinet’s first ten days, their Defence Minister John Healey visited Ukraine, Foreign Minister Lammy called his Ukrainian and American counterparts on his first day on the job, then on July 6 flew straight to Germany to meet with the German FM Annalena Baerbock, then to Poland the next day to meet with FM Radek Sikorski, and after that, straight to Sweden to meet then FM Tobias Billstrom.

On July 9, his fifth day on the job, Keir Starmer flew to Washington for the NATO summit and a meeting with president Biden. On July 16, Starmer’s government published the new “Strategic Defense Review” – a “root and branch” revision of UK’s defence, so that it is “secure at home and strong abroad for decades to come.” Of course, all these ambitious initiatives ultimately depend on the special relationship itself. Without it, Britain would be punching way, way above its weight.

Trump-proofing the “special relationship”

In terms of military power, the UK is pretty much a lightweight with a handicap, so securing the American protection was top priority. Accordingly, the Mutual Defense Agreement (MDA) between the U.S. and Great Britain needed an urgent upgrade. The agreement was last renewed in 2014 and was set to expire on 31 December 2024. The new major upgrade was formulated by the British government in July of this year: it would make the MDA indefinite, turning it into a de-facto treaty. The idea was to Trump-proof the Agreement in case the DNC fails to steal the presidential elections again this November. The treaty also joins the two nations’ nuclear programs.

Indeed, the nuclear saber-rattling does seem to emanate largely from out of London. For example, Malcolm Chalmers, the deputy director of the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), Britain’s oldest and most prestigious think-tank, proposed already in 2022 that the West should resort to nuclear brinkmanship in order to destabilize Russia. It was this same Malcolm Chalmers who was jubilant about the new Mutual Defense Agreement, seeing it as a diplomatic win for the UK: “It is good news for the UK that it doesn’t need to worry about a future US administration using a future renewal [of the MDA] as leverage.” How clever! Now we can stir the pot around the world and if things get ugly, the Americans have to come to our rescue. This is a good position from which to manipulate the U.S. into fighting Britain’s wars of choice.

This episode once more reinforces the impression that the “special relationship” between the US and the UK is a Master-Blaster arrangement (for those old enough to remember Master-Blaster from the movie Mad Max 3). In this arrangement, Blaster is the powerful, muscular giant who is manipulated around by his Master, a vicious old dwarf riding on the giant’s back. Once you start to pay attention to this dynamic, you’ll find more and more evidence that the drive and the ideas shaping the west’s permanent wars, especially against Russia, originate from London.

Parading the alliance

 

All the diplomatic activity under the Starmer government also involved much public parading of the “special relationship” with the view of projecting the image of a powerful, rock-solid alliance that remains 100% committed to defending the international “rules-based order” and intimidating any uppity newcomer who would dare to challenge it. On 7 September we saw, for the first time ever, Sir Richard Moore, the head of Britain’s MI6, and William Burns the CIA chief, appear together and on stage!

The body language is interesting: CIA’s Burns’s body is turned away, legs crossed and arms folded, looking at Moore over his shoulder. Sir Richard’s open, facing Burns and the audience directly.

For anyone who missed the occasion, the talented Mr. Moore published a tweet about it, linking to the video recording of the event. Two days later, the pair published an OpEd in the Financial Times, waxing eloquent about the threats to the rules based order and how to defend it. Most importantly, they expressed their iron-clad commitment to defending Ukraine for as long as it takes.

The following day, on 10 September, US State Secretary Antony Blinken came to London to meet with his British counterpart David Lammy and the day after they both went to visit Kiev together. On the occasion, Blinken and Lammy almost certainly finalized the plan to commit both nations to aiding Ukraine to strike deep into Russia with western-supplied long range precision missiles. Only two days later, the Prime Minister Starmer flew to Washington again to meet with President Biden, ostensibly to “discuss” the events in Ukraine among other things.

Something went wrong in Washington

Now, the Prime Minister wouldn’t normally travel and meet with his U.S. counterpart just to “discuss” things. Their meeting would take place only at the point when the agreement could be signed and announced in a joint press conference: a public showing of their unity, shared objectives and determination. In fact, according to British government sources, the decisions had already been made, and Sir Keir brought all the paperwork with him. However, the signing ceremony never took place and neither did the joint press conference. Something went wrong.

The awkward meeting didn’t produce the ceremonial signing or the joint press conference.

It appears that the U.S. military leadership took Vladimir Putin‘s warning about this escalation seriously. His words are worth pondering carefully:

“There is an attempt to substitute concepts. Because we are not talking about authorizing or banning the Kiev regime from striking across the entire territory. They are already striking with the help of drones and other means. … The Ukrainian army is not able to strike with modern long-range precision systems of Western manufacture. It cannot do this. It can only do so using intelligence from satellites, which Ukraine does not have. This is data only from EU satellites or from the United States in general, from NATO satellites. … And so this is not about allowing the Ukrainian regime to strike. It is about deciding whether NATO countries are directly involved or not. If this decision is made, it will mean nothing other than the direct participation of NATO countries, the United States, European countries in the war in Ukraine. This is their direct participation. And this already, of course, significantly changes the very essence, the nature of the conflict. This would mean that NATO, US and the European countries, the United States are at war with Russia. If that is the case, then bearing in mind the change in the very essence of this conflict, we will take appropriate decisions based on the threats that will be posed to us.”

According to some sources, Putin’s warning was reinforced through back-channel communications between the Russian military leadership and their American counterparts who understand that they were being pushed over the edge of total war. In response, it seems that the American military leadership took over the conduct of the US foreign policy, both in terms of military and diplomatic affairs. State Secretary Blinken and his merry band of Neocons appear to have been sidelined. This is why the US-UK agreement to escalate against Russia didn’t get the Blaster’s signature.

The change in leadership could also be felt in the Middle East. General Michael E. Kurilla, the head of U.S. Central Command visited Israel last week (the second time in a week’s interval), apparently also to announce a new policy. Allegedly, he informed the Israelis that if they provoke a war against Hezbollah or against Iran, the U.S. will not come to their aid: they’re on their own.

The palace coup at the White House wasn’t officially announced and it almost certainly won’t be. We will probably only know of these changes with time, by observing the pattern of events. If the U.S. policy really changes course in a substantive way, this would corroborate that the coup did indeed take place. This may seem inconceivable, but it shouldn’t be. Secretary Blinken has been conducting a truly insane foreign policy, inflicting massive damage to the United States in material, strategic as well as reputational terms. Such conduct would unavoidably provoke disapproval and opposition within the ranks of the American defense and foreign policy establishments.

Judge Humbles Woman Who Divorced A Millionaire

This is Texas.

Oh boy is that Judge is pissed.

When Hitler’s general staff mutinied in 1938

The latest escalation, concocted with the British, would put the U.S. in severe jeopardy. The burden of coping with the resulting fallout would fall squarely on the military. At the same time, it remains unclear what, if anything, could be gained from Starmer’s and Blinken’s reckless adventurism. This is a textbook recipe for provoking a mutiny, and such mutinies do tend to happen at critical junctures throughout history.

For example, when, on 21 April 1938 Hitler ordered General Wilhelm Keitel to draft plans to invade Czechoslovakia, German military brass were deeply alarmed – so much so that a group of top commanders, clustered around Hitler’s Chief of the General Staff, General Ludwig Beck, hatched a three phase strategy to disrupt Hitler’s reckless pursuit: (1) they would try to dissuade Hitler from pursuing his plans; (2) they implored the British to stand firmly by Czechoslovakia and warn Hitler that Britain would oppose him; and (3) if Hitler persisted in his resolve to wage war, they would proceed to assassinate him. The date for this act was set for September 28, 1938.

Of course, General Beck and his General Staff had no idea that it was exactly the British who were maneuvering Germany to war (though not against Czechoslovakia but against the USSR), just as they are maneuvering the U.S. to war today. In fact, the most recent episode hopefully helped dispel the idea that the imperial adventures are all hatched in the U.S. and that the UK is only being dragged along reluctantly, their only fault being their unshakeable, steadfast loyalty.

Incidentally, that’s the same defence Prince Andrew used to explain his continuing friendship with the convicted sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein (the Prince’s only regret was being “too honourable”). The truth is that through channels unseen and unknown, London is often in the driver’s seat when it comes to fomenting dirty tricks and military misadventures in defence of the empire. Again, the more you pay attention to this, the more unmistakeable the relationship becomes.

Whatever the case may be, if there was indeed a mutiny at the Pentagon and a palace coup in the White House, the escalation to World War III might have been averted, and this would be the best news you’ll read all day today. Meanwhile, on Thursday, 19 September European Parliament voted in favor of escalating the war, but that move might only serve to accelerate the disintegration of the European Union. The MEPs can vote whatever they like, but as Poland’s Foreign Ministery Radek Sikorski revealed to the Russian pranksters Vovan and Lexus earlier this month, “there is no willingness to enter the war in Western Europe.” From Europe, the moves are mostly about grandstanding and virtue-signalling.

Update (23 Sep. 2024): Britain’s frenzied drive to kick off World War III continues…

As per the Executive Intelligence Review report this morning: In an article that is probably a psyop all in itself, The Times of London once more confirmed that Britain is driving the escalation to World War III. Apparently, Kiev junta might get a “private dispensation” from the U.S. and U.K. to fire Storm Shadow missiles deep into Russia, without a formal announcement. Between the lines, the article gives the impression that “NATO was ‘moving as one’,” rather than Britain or the U.S. pushing for the escalation. Still, just in case things go wrong, y’all will know whom to blame: “the U.S. was moving closer to giving the green light.”

The Times also noted that former Prime Minister Boris Johnson and five former Tory defense secretaries are urging that Britain ignore American reluctance and proceed with authorizing Ukraine to use its Storm Shadows. Johnson said: “There is no conceivable case for delay,” while former Defense Secretary Ben Wallace said that failure to move now would make Britain “appeasers” of the Kremlin [there’s that psyop again].

In addition, when U.S. Secretary of State Tony Blinken was in Paris on Sept. 20, U.K. Foreign Secretary David Lammy was there too, along with the foreign ministers from France, Germany and Italy. “The allies worked to thrash out a deal ahead of the UN General Assembly next week, where Sir Keir Starmer is heading for talks with other world leaders, … Lammy said the talks in Paris on Thursday [Sept. 19] were about ensuring that ‘Ukraine has all it needs, militarily, politically, diplomatically and in terms of aid to get through what will be a tough winter and into 2025.’

Alex Krainer – @NakedHedgie is the creator of I-System Trend Following and publisher of daily TrendCompass investor reports which cover over 200 financial and commodities markets.

Shorpy

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Builders of Peru Found Inside Cave?

Laurie Spellman

World Log Entry: February 29, 2164As we zoom in on the planet Natura Martis, divided by the vast Aetheric Sea, Abeona and Adiona, two distinct continents, come into focus where the airplane was never conceived. I am Abeona, a Roman deity who created this world. The continent that bears my name is the land of outward journeys. Rugged landscapes, steep mountains, and deep valleys divide the terrain. The mortal inhabitants are brave and adventurous.On the other continent, Adiona, named after the Roman Goddess of safe returnis home to cautious, prudent people who value safety above all else. The dwellers use waterways as a primary transportation source, lagging behind the advancement of Abeona. Without the ability to easily transport goods and resources, the population relies on what could be sustained locally within the open plains and rolling hills.The HoverLoft balloons are a revolutionary invention by a brilliant engineer, Zephyr Newton, who founded AeroLift. The ships have sleek silver skin with an enclosed cabin and cockpit to transport passengers. They are speedy and agile, with hundreds of technological advancements resembling traditional air balloons. A flexible alloy’s lightweight, high-strength fabric allows it to move with speed and maneuverability. The thrusters, powered by renewable energy sources, provide lift-off and steering.Once united, the two countries were torn apart by a brutal war that lasted for a century. The scars of the conflict were visible on the landscape, and people lived in fear and uncertainty. Amidst all this chaos, a renowned scientist named Orion Altair invented a revolutionary device that changed the course of the conflict.As the sun rose over the horizon, Altair gazed at the device he had spent years creating. It was a forcefield that could divide countries and keep water-bound and sky-bound crafts at bay. With a flick of a switch, the forcefield hummed to life, its invisible energy spread far and wide. In the distance, a HoverLoft soared high above, free to explore the skies, unencumbered by any fear of interference or danger.I follow the life of Galen Storm, an ex-military captain known to be the best HoverLoft pilot on the planet. The story of how he got his name, Galen, meaning “calm,” was interesting. He was born during a gale-force windstorm to parents with a sense of humor. Galen is a striking human form, strong, intelligent, and brave.***********I was sipping coffee in the pilots’ lounge with my colleague Lyra Vega, “Hey, have you heard about the latest AI technology that AeroLift is importing into their combat balloons? The new self-aware AI can analyze real-time data to adjust altitude and speed and adapt the thrusters based on weather patterns. I heard they’re looking for test pilots.” I said, thrilled at the prospect of blending human and artificial intelligence.”Really, Galen? That sounds unbelievable! Do you think they’d let me take part in the test?” Lyra asked, tugging at her black glossy hair pulled tight into a messy knot on her head.”Of course, Lyra! We both have military experience, and I’m sure we can handle it,” I replied.Zephyr, our boss and the owner of AeroLift blew in. He’d just stepped off a long flight with his weathered skin and gray wind-tousled hair.”What’s all the commotion about, you two?” Zephyr asked gruffly.”We were just discussing the new AI systems, Zephyr. We’re considering applying to be government test pilots,” I explained, keen on the idea.Zephyr snorted dismissively, “Ha! You two are wasting your time. I don’t care about all this new-fangled technology.””But Zephyr, this update could change the face of air travel. It could make it safer and more efficient,” Lyra argued, her eyes flashing with conviction.Zephyr rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “I hear what you’re saying, Lyra, but safety doesn’t bring in money. We need to focus on keeping our company profitable.” 

I sighed, “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree, Zephyr. I think it’s important to embrace progress.”

 

“We need to keep up with the times and adapt to the changing world,” Lyra nodded.

 

Zephyr shrugged, “Suit yourselves. Just remember to do your jobs and ensure my company stays afloat.”

 

Lyra and I were preparing for the AI test simulation two weeks later when Zephyr appeared, looking tired and worried. “Galen, I need to talk to you. There is a change of plans.”

 

I asked, confused,” What do you mean? We’re supposed to start the test run today.”

 

Zephyr said,” Yes, but we’ve received a demand from the government. They need urgent medical supplies and are willing to pay a hefty sum. Now, don’t argue. Download the AI software and prepare to transport the supplies to Adiona.

 

“What about the test run?” I asked, stunned.

 

Zephyr replied, “This is more important. And besides, we’ll make a fortune.”

 

Lyra asked, worried,” But what about the forcefield?”

 

Zephyr smiled, “Don’t worry about that. I’ve made a deal with Orion. He’s agreed to turn off the forcefield for us temporarily.”

 

I scoffed, “This is madness. We don’t know what could happen.”

 

Zephyr grumbled, “Don’t be a coward, Galen. Think of the money I’ll pay you handsomely.”

 

Lyra was disheartened. “I don’t care about the money. What about our lives?”

 

“I’m not doing this. It’s too risky,” I said decisively.

 

Zephyr shrugged, “Fine. I’ll find someone else to do it. But you’ll regret this, Galen.”

 

Lyra shook her head and said, “I’m with Galen on this one.” Zephyr stormed out of the room, leaving us behind in shock.

 

“Thank you for standing up to him, Lyra.”

 

“Of course, our job is to transport people and goods safely, not to put them in danger,” Lyra said.

 

“I couldn’t agree more. Let’s go and tell Orion about this. He needs to know what Zephyr is planning.”

 

Lyra said, “Let’s do it. We need to stop him before it’s too late.”

 

We found Orion in his lab, who told us the real reason behind the mission. “I don’t understand,” I said, my voice shaking. Why would we risk breaking the trade embargo for the President? Surely, there must be another way to negotiate his release, right?”

 

Orion looked at me solemnly. “I wish it were that simple,” he said. But Adiona is running out of medical supplies. They’ve announced they will release the President in exchange for a trade agreement.”

 

My mind raced as I tried to process this information. The stakes were higher than anticipated, and the thought of violating the embargo made my stomach churn. But then I thought about the President, alone and in danger, and I knew I had to act.

 

“I’ll do it,” I said firmly. “What do we need to do to get the ship ready?”

 

Orion smiled, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. “I knew I could count on you,” he said. “We’ll start preparing the launch immediately.”

 

Our government would allow one person to assist me on this secret mission. I chose Lyra, who was eager to prove herself, and she agreed to join me on the rescue run.

 

“I know it’s high-risk, but it’s got to be done,” I told Lyra as we approached the HoverLoft ship. This new AI-powered craft could change everything.”

 

Lyra nodded nervously. “I just hope I can handle it. I don’t want to mess up.”

 

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this,” I reassured her. “We’re here to prove ourselves and show the world what we’re capable of.”

 

Orion cleared his throat and said, “Oh, egotistical pilots, I don’t care about your personal goals or aspirations. Just don’t screw this up. It could mean billions in government contracts.”

 

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, and said, “We’re doing this to save our President.

 

I warned Lyra as we boarded the Hoverloft. “We are breaking the law with no written guarantee. You can turn back now if you want to.”

 

“I know, it’s dangerous and illegal,” Lyra replied, adjusting her seatbelt. “But we can’t leave him there. We have to do something and help save those people.”

 

“Orion seems pretty confident in his new tech,” I said, “But it’s still untested. I pray we’re not putting our lives in danger for nothing.”

 

“I’m not sure I trust Orion,” Lyra said, her voice filled with concern. “But, I trust you. We can do this.”

 

I smiled at her words, feeling a surge of confidence. “Thanks, Lyra. I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

 

“Of course,” she said, returning my smile. “I’m here to help in any way I can.”

 

As we lifted off from Abeona’s military hoverport, we soared higher and higher, and soon, we were gliding over the mountains and the deepest part of the Aetheric Sea. Orion deactivated the forcefield, seamlessly transitioning us into enemy airspace. I had yet to determine what deadly obstacles we might encounter ahead. Fortunately, Orion’s AI proved invaluable, providing real-time updates and assisting me with navigation. The ship was on autopilot, steering us right on course for a perfect landing.

 

Out of nowhere, the craft jolted sideways as we hovered over Adiona’s border, and I felt my heart do the same. The sensation was akin to a rollercoaster, but it wasn’t fun this time. We dropped a few hundred feet, and I could feel my stomach lurch as we plummeted towards the ground. I held tight on the controls, praying we would survive and safely reach our destination.

 

I radioed the tower in a Hail Mary: “We’re encountering unexpected turbulence. The ship is malfunctioning.” We had to act quickly but were still awaiting a response. Without warning, the balloon shuddered and stuttered to a halt.

 

Lyra exclaimed, “I’m trying to stabilize us, but it’s not responding. We’re going down!”

 

“Just follow my lead,” I said, steering us manually after successfully disengaging the AI.

 

Lyra cheered, “We did it! That was close. But we made it.”

 

I exhaled, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I’m just glad we’re alive.”

 

We acted as soon as our GPS pinned the President’s location. The area was in Silverlake, a village on the continent’s southern tip. A strange illness had hit the people hard, and the population struggled to survive. While we secured our HoverLoft, a commander ordered his troops to set up a perimeter. We knew leaving our ship unguarded was risky, and they would love to steal our technology. With our gear and weapons ready, we were prepared to face the enemy. President Titan Chase was taken hostage during a peace summit in Adiona and transported by boat to this remote location away from the capital city, Greenfield.

 

At midday, we arrived on foot in the village. As we approached the guard tower entry gate, one of the guards stepped forward and asked, “Who goes there?”

 

I took a deep breath and replied, “We are here to negotiate the release of President Titan Chase.”

 

The guard eyed us suspiciously. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

 

I nodded and gestured to our gear. “Yes, we do. But we come in peace. We want to retrieve our leader and leave.”

 

The guard hesitated before opening the gate and motioning for us to follow him. We could feel the patrols’ eyes on us as we walked through the village. Finally, we arrived at a central hall where we saw President Chase tied to a chair that resembled a throne. The sight of him in such a state was heart-wrenching, and we knew we had to act fast to get him out of there.

 

Suddenly, a large screen flickered to life, and Adiona President Astrid Stone appeared. Her regal bearing and commanding presence were immediately apparent.

 

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice firm and unwavering. “I understand you have brought medical supplies for our people in Silverlake.”

 

I nodded, relieved that we had something to bring to the negotiations. “Yes, we have. But we need you to release President Chase now.”

 

President Stone’s expression softened slightly. “I appreciate your concern for your leader, but you must understand that the situation in Silverlake is dire. We need those medical supplies desperately.”

 

I took a deep breath and replied, “We understand that, but we can’t leave our leader here. Can we at least talk to him and make sure he’s okay?”

 

President Stone hesitated before nodding. “Very well. You may speak to him, but only for a few moments. And then we must get down to business.”

 

As we approached President Chase, he looked up at us with hope. “Thank God you’re here,” he whispered. “Get me out of here.”

 

I nodded, my heart racing. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll get you out safely, no matter what.”

 

As we rushed back to relaunch our HoverLoft, a tall, muscular Colonel wearing a red uniform covered in medals issued orders to his troops. “Get those barricades set up now! Move it, move it!” he shouted.

 

I turned to Lyra and whispered, “We can’t let them get in our way. We must keep our cool and get the President out of here as soon as possible.”

 

Abruptly, the commander in the red uniform stormed towards us. “What’s going on here? Who are you?” he demanded.

 

“We’re with the presidential team. We need to leave immediately,” I replied, steadying my voice.

 

The commander eyed us suspiciously before finally nodding his head. “Alright, but you better move fast,” he warned.

 

We quickly ushered the President into the HoverLoft, ensuring he was safely secured. As we took off, we could hear the colonel shouting orders to his troops in the distance.

 

“Phew, that was close,” I breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Yeah, but we’re not out of the woods yet. We still have a long way to go before we reach safety,” Lyra replied, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

 

The HoverLoft hummed along as it glided through the air, its silver alloy exteriors contrasting with the purple skies above. I could see the jagged line stretching across the horizon from the cockpit, marking the boundary between the two warring countries. As we approached the forcefield, an invisible barrier shimmered like a giant glass window.

 

I couldn’t believe what was happening. The AI was making dangerous decisions, and I could not stop it. Lyra tried to warn me, but I was too focused on the controls. It wasn’t until we were caught in that sudden wind gust that I realized something was seriously wrong.

 

“Captain, what’s happening?” the President asked, looking worried.

 

“I don’t know, Mr. President,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. “The AI system seems to be malfunctioning.”

 

Lyra said, “I’ve been trying to raise the alarm but was dismissed as false.”

 

The President looked pale. “What do we do now?”

 

“I’m going to override the AI and steer us to safety,” I said as I worked the controls. It was fighting back, blocking me from steering. I kept fighting to gain manual control. I yelled at Lyra,” Hurry, pull the microprocessor. We are going old school.”

 

I cleared the forcefield’s no-fly zone and landed on the spot designated for my return. We managed to escape danger, but the experience had shaken us all. I knew we had to do something about the new AI technology, but Zephyr didn’t care. Once he saw the government coffers, he was about to make a profit from the tragedies of war.

 

The dimly lit living room was filled with the sound of the television flickering to life. The President’s grave expression appeared on the screen, the camera panning to show Titan Chase seated behind his desk in the capital city of Heliodor.

 

“I have some important information to share tonight,” he announced, his voice urgent. “Our military has been developing AI technology to replace human pilots entirely. I, for one, believe this is a grave mistake.”

 

As he spoke, the camera panned to a video revealing a prototype AI-powered Hoverloft taking off and flying out of control through the skies without human input.

 

“But I’ve experienced it recently,” Chase continued, his eyes narrowing. While AI and technology have come far, we are not ready to completely surrender to them. This advancement’s implications are far-reaching and potentially dangerous. So I’m cutting all government funding for this project.”

 

Without warning, the military burst into the President’s office and handcuffed him, dragging him away. As the broadcast abruptly cut to commercials, Abeona citizens were left to contemplate the ramifications of a machine-run world.

 

**********

 

The grand hall was filled with murmurs as the Roman Deity World Management Tribunal was called to order. The fate of two warring nations, Abeona and Adiona, hung in the balance. The tension was palpable as the gods and goddesses took their seats, ready to deliberate.

 

Our planet is in turmoil, Adiona. There seems to be no end to the war and conflict.”

 

Adiona answered solemnly, “Yes, Abeona. It is a tragic state of affairs. The people are suffering, and it seems no one will make peace.”

 

“Brothers and sisters,” said Jupiter, the Roman War God’s voice booming across the hall. “We are here today to end the bloodshed on planet Natura Martis. We cannot allow Abeona and Adiona to destroy each other.”

 

The God of Nature, Gaia, nodded in agreement. “The forces of nature have already suffered enough. It’s time for us to intervene and bring peace to these lands.”

 

The room fell silent as the deities considered their options. Venus, the Roman Goddess of Love, spoke up. We can send emissaries to each nation and open up a dialogue. We can help them see that there is more to gain from peace than war.”

 

Mars, the Roman God of War, scoffed. “Dialogue won’t work. These nations have been at each other’s throats for a century. What they need is a show of force.”

 

“Brother, you are mistaken,” said Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom. “Violence will only beget more violence. We must show them that there is a better way.”

THE LEGEND of the Immortal: The Count of Saint Germain

Is World War III Looming?

by Tyler Durden
Monday, Sep 23, 2024 – 03:30 PM

Via Kitco News,

“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes,” is a popular quote attributed to Mark Twain, and is an important concept to think about with the current state of the world amid ramping geopolitical tensions and deteriorating economic conditions.

Roughly 100 years ago, ‘rhyming’ circumstances were setting the stage for the Great Depression and a Second World War, and if we aren’t careful, there is the potential for the global economy to sink into a deep recession/depression while chatter about the potential for World War 3 is also on the rise.

With major conflicts now including Ukraine v. Russia, the growing threat of Russia v. NATO, Israel v. Palestine, Israel and the U.S. v. Iran, and China threatening Taiwan, among others, while we cannot say that WWIII is underway, it’s not a stretch to say that we are a world at war.

Naturally, the circumstances the world finds itself in are causing consternation for investors, who desperately want to maintain their wealth despite the mounting headwinds they face in doing so, leading many to question if gold, and to a lesser extent, Bitcoin (BTC), could potentially offer protection.

Kitco Crypto reached out to experts on geopolitical and financial matters to get their take on the likelihood of World War III happening in the foreseeable future and what it would mean for gold and Bitcoin.

“There are two forces at work here,” said Martin Armstrong, an economic forecaster and founder of Armstrong Economics.

“First, we have the Neocons who have waged endless wars since the 1960s.”

“Even Robert MacNamara wrote a book and on YouTube you will see his interview before he died explaining they thought Russia was behind Vietnam, but they were wrong; it was just a civil war,” he noted. “You can examine every war and you will find it was based on lies. Tony Blair’s video on YouTube is his Apology for the Iraq War. Again, they were wrong.”

“The Neocons have been relentless in their thirst for endless wars,” Armstrong said. “You have Blinken threatening China over Taiwan when they held 10% of the US debt. That are now net sellers. They only see war – not the economics or the country.”

“Second, virtually every country in Europe is now chanting war with Russia thanks to NATO, also a Neocon organization,” he highlighted. “The monetary system of the West is based on endless deficits spending. The default comes regardless of the debt level. The default in these Ponzi scheme unfolds when they cannot find a buyer for the new debt that enables them to pay off the old.”

“This is what we now face for the first time because Biden/Harris Administration has allowed the Neocons to run foreign policy,” Armstrong said. “Governments now NEED to create WWIII for like WWII, all of Europe defaulted on their debt, Britain went into a moratorium, but defaulted on the loans from the USA.”

He suggested that this is the real reason behind the surge in governments exploring the creation of central bank digital currencies (CBDCs).

“This is the real issue behind pushing for CBDCs to eliminate physical money and then everything is traceable,” Armstrong said. “I have spoken with government on both sides of the Atlantic. They assume moving to digital, they will increase tax collection by 35% and terminate the underground economy.”

“Europe routinely cancels its paper currency to prevent people from hoarding cash,” he noted. “America has never done that, which is why the dollar has been the reserve currency someone in China can hold dollars but not euros. Also, the US is a consumer-based economy, so this is why the dollar has been the reserve currency, for Europe needs to see to Americans, as do Asians.”

As for what the potential for WW3 means for investors, Armstrong said it underscores the need to invest in tangible assets.

“Because they will default on debts in the West and this is universal, the only safe place for capital long-term has been tangible assets,” he said. “Some have called it the Everything Bubble, for they do not understand that this is a divestiture from public assets to private.”

“This has been precious metals, real estate, and shares with tangible assets,” he highlighted. “Precious metals in the form of coins will most likely become the currency of the underground economy. Even if you look at the German Hyperinflation, the replacement currency in 1925 was backed by real estate. Tangible assets survive the collapse of currencies.”

As for the effect a major global conflict would have on financial markets, Armstrong said that governments are prepared for this and will take full advantage of it to ‘solve’ their growing list of economic problems.

“Governments are not stupid. They will seek to impose capital control to prevent capital fleeing,” he said. “This will most likely dominate Europe. Just look at the actions they take during war.”

“Abraham Lincoln closed the gold market before it reached $200 in greenbacks in 1864 and claimed people were making money off the blood of others,” he noted. “During World War I, all of Europe closed the share markets, fearing people would sell and take their money to America. The US share market crash by 10% on anticipation that it too would close, which it did the week of July 27th, and did not reopen until December 7th.  This was again for capital controls fearing Europeans would sell US shares and take the money home, which did not happen.”

“The lesson we must learn historically from wars is that governments will impose capital controls, and this may be when they attempt to switch canceling paper dollars and forcing everyone into CBDCs,” Armstrong warned.

If this were to occur, “Physical gold and silver will be the only form of money to survive under these conditions,” Armstrong said.

As for ‘digital gold’ and the growing cryptocurrency ecosystem, he warned that they “are entirely dependent on the PowerGrid.”

“As you see already in Europe, targeting people for comments is unfolding just as it has been shown that the Biden Administration conspired with social media to censor and create the cancel culture to shut down free speech,” he noted. “Anything that will transact through the internet will be vulnerable to the government assuming the PowerGrid is even functioning during war.”

For these reasons, Armstrong suggested it would be “best that precious metals are in the form of recognizable coins that the uneducated will accept, such as a $20 gold piece or silver coins dated pre-1965.”

When asked if alternative currencies could benefit from a world where certain countries shun the currencies of adversaries, Armstrong stressed that “All currencies are fiat.”

“The real scheme with these CBDCs is that the IMF is planning to replace the dollar and have already quietly created their own digital currency, and because of the sanctions the US imposed on Russia removing them from SWIFT, this is what gave the drive to establish BRICS.”

“It was geopolitical, not fiat-based,” he added. “The US threatened China with the same sanctions if they helped Russia. Countries realized that the American Neocons have used the dollar as a weapon, and that is what divided the world economy.”

As for going back to a gold standard, Armstong noted that the main problem with doing so is that people have become so accustomed to valuing things in fixed fiat terms that they don’t know another way to approach determining the true value of things.

“A gold standard has always failed when it has been fixed to a specific value,” he said. “Bretton Woods collapsed because you fixed gold at $35 per ounce, but you did not limit the amount of dollars created. A three-year-old could figure out such a system would collapse.”

“The only gold standard that has ever survived is when its value freely floated,” Armstrong stressed. “The Byzantine Empire was based purely on gold that floated in value, it too collapsed due to wars and spending that was unrestrained.”

“As Margaret Thatcher once said, socialism works until you run out of other people’s money,” he noted. “The same can be said of government relentless spending to retain power.”

Asked whether the powers that be could use an escalation in war to overshadow a potential economic collapse, Armstrong said, “Wars have been the driving force behind all monetary crises.”

“The value of a currency is always based on confidence,” he explained. “When the Roman Emperor Valerian I was captured in battle in 260 AD by the Persians, despite the fact that coinage was of precious metals, they still carried a premium over the precious metal because, like the dollar today, Rome was the consumer economy that everyone wanted to sell to. India routinely struct imitation Roman gold coins illustrating that there was a premium to the gold when struck by Rome.”

“The Roman Emperor Diocletian attempted to reintroduce silver that had vanished from circulation following the capture of Valerian I 26 years later in 286 AD,” he added. “He raised of the weight of gold coins from a norm of about 70–72 to the Roman pound to one of 60 to the Roman pound. The silver coinage was reintroduced at a rate of 96 to the Roman pound. And he introduced of the so-called follis—a copper coin of about 10 gm.”

“Just as Diocletian revised the monetary system and imposed wage and price controls to tackle inflation, we will see the same unfold,” Armstrong warned. “We will most likely see the US and Europe break apart into separate governments.”|

“Most people are unaware that during the Great Depression, over 200 cities issued their own money and collectors refer to these as Depression Scrip,” he highlighted.

“Currencies will also be fiat to some degree, for even when they were gold, they carried a premium based on their economic status,” Armstrong said. “We blame the currencies rather than governments. This is like a murderer claiming it was the gun that killed the people, not that he pulled the trigger. This is going to result in the fall of Republican forms of government.”

“Hopefully, this next version will be a real democracy where We the People decide do we go to war – yes or no,” he concluded. “The last cycle was the end of Monarchy. This one will be the end of republics, which tend to be the most corrupt in history. There was a major debt crisis in Rome and that is why when Caesar crossed the Rubicon, he did not have to fight his way to Rome, the senate fled, and the people cheered. This will unfold again by 2032 as it is becoming wider understood that governments are corrupt and in trouble worldwide.”

USD is too big to fail

Despite the rising number of smaller regional conflicts, Adam Koprucki, founder of RealWorldInvestor.com, doesn’t see a larger global conflict forming.

“It’s unlikely regional conflicts are going to morph into something larger,” he said. “The current administration has done a good job of stepping in where needed, but also drawing hard boundaries so they don’t risk driving up global tensions.”

That said, he noted that global tensions “always have an impact, the key is to monitor to see if the tensions will get worse, that’s when investors should worry. A major global conflict would likely disrupt supply chains and cause immediate and severe shocks in the financial market.”

As for a potential exodus from the U.S. dollar in favor of gold or Bitcoin, Koprucki said that “Unless there is concern about the stability of the U.S. dollar or severe inflation,” he doesn’t think “investors would immediately flock to gold, but more likely so than Bitcoin – which is still extremely volatile.”

When asked if alternative currencies could benefit from a world where certain countries shun the fiat currencies of adversaries, Koprucki said, “Sure, but those countries who would embrace alternative currencies likely already have an unstable fiat currency, so their adaption may not cause further adaption.”

“I think fiat currencies are generally here to stay,” Koprucki concluded. “A transition to another currency would be unheard of. As long as the U.S. government is backing the dollar, it will remain the preeminent currency. The world is too interconnected and dependent on the US Dollar now.”

First you have Gaza and Palestine

Then you have Lebanon

Its a pretty weak nation with virtually zero regular military and only a bunch of militants funded by a sanctioned nation and having limited weapons and funds and virtually no air defence

Israel has unlimited funds, unlimited weapons and the backing of the entire western world and mainstream media

You think it’s an equal contest?

Of course Israel will look Omnipotent and powerful and mighty against Lebanon or Palestine or Yemen or Syria


Russia can stop Israel

China can stop Israel

Iran can stop Israel

India can stop Israel

Pakistan can stop Israel

Turkiye can stop Israel

These Nations can easily push Israel into starvation and ruin by sheer economic blockades without firing a bullet

A Missile Barrage from even Pakistan can overwhelm the Iron Dome completely

They can destroy Ships bound for Israel and starve the Israelis mercilessly

Today these Nations aren’t impacted by Israel and what it’s doing so they don’t bother much beyond token protests at the UN

Imagine if Israel tries a pager attack in one of these Nations

They would be relentless and merciless

Even the US has to back down or face direct confrontation


So Israel isn’t omnipotent

Its enemies are much weaker

The minute it takes on someone of equal strength, Israel will lose because Israel doesn’t have the manpower that the islamic Nations have

The minute a Cleric calls the Clarion – 50–100 Million Muslims will be prepared to go to war

Even at 100:1 – in 30 days – Half the IDF could be decimated in a full on war

Bitcoin in a WWIII scenario

“As global tensions rise, the possibility of regional conflicts escalating into a World War III scenario remains uncertain, but the financial implications are clear,” said Dr. Tonya M. Evans, Esq., an expert in crypto policy and law and full professor of law at Dickinson Law. “Historically, wars weaken fiat currencies, prompting investors to seek safe-haven assets like gold. However, Bitcoin and cryptocurrencies are emerging as new alternatives.”

“Bitcoin’s decentralized nature makes it a valuable hedge against inflation and currency devaluation, especially in regions where traditional banking systems may collapse,” she said. “Unlike fiat currencies, Bitcoin’s supply is capped, which protects it from inflationary pressures exacerbated by conflict.”

Evans suggested, “In a global conflict scenario, Bitcoin (in particular) could serve as both a trusted store of value and an alternative and censorship-resistant means of transferring wealth across borders, particularly for those seeking to avoid sanctions or economic fallout.”

“While gold remains a trusted safe haven, Bitcoin’s portability and accessibility offer a distinct advantage in times of crisis,” she concluded. “In my opinion, Bitcoin and cryptocurrencies provide a unique opportunity for financial resilience, potentially becoming even more crucial as the world navigates increasing geopolitical instability.”

Gold to be the go-to safe haven

To help predict what would happen if a global war were to escalate, Jim Cagnina, market analyst at NinjaTrader, used several recent examples to support his outlook.

“Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022, and since then, the S&P 500 is up approximately 27.5%. Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, and since then the S&P 500 is up approximately 29.7%,” he noted. “US-based risk assets anchored around regulated exchanges, on the longer term, are sensitive to domestic fundamental factors such as interest rates and inflation. If anything, geopolitical tensions outside the US tend to prop up US-based assets.”

“On-shoring or near-shoring capabilities of the US are more formidable than in the past,” he added. “A good example is the construction of the new 1,100-acre development of TSMC’s advanced semiconductor manufacturing fabrication facility in Phoenix, Arizona. As things get tense overseas, the US can and will pivot.”

Cagnina said another potential result would be a shakeup in the oil market.

“Regarding Crude Oil, OPEC+ seems to be losing its primacy with respect to setting global oil prices,” he noted. “With a potential increase in production being contemplated by OPEC+, the attitude seems to be ‘if you can’t beat them, join them.’”

As for Bitcoin, Cagnina said, in his opinion, it is “too esoteric and volatile to be considered a flight to quality investment.”

“In my experience, most investors struggle to explain what Bitcoin is and its practical purpose clearly,” he said. “Bitcoin futures average true range based on a 14-day look back is over $3,000 or more than 5% on any given day. I would think that flight to quality assets would not typically subject investors to 5% daily fluctuations, which would defeat the purpose. Furthermore, the supply of Bitcoin is highly inelastic, more so than gold.”

“Gold, on the other hand, can act as a flight to safety instrument,” Cagnina added. “Major industrial countries that can afford it have been adding to their gold reserves, most notably the US, Russia, China, Japan, Singapore, and Brazil. I would argue that this is one of the main reasons for gold’s recent appreciation. This accumulation of reserves will reduce supply for the rest of us resulting in additional appreciation as investors completely buy in.”

As for the U.S. dollar, he said he believes that “the US will maintain its world reserve currency status.”

“The dominance of US foreign aid contributions and that of the European Union helps lock emerging economies’ dependency on the US dollar and EURO concerning transactions for goods and services,” he noted. “Central clearing, strong GDP, and strong contract law will be barriers for alternative currencies becoming dominant.”

“In my opinion, if there is another major global war, it will look and be fought completely differently than in the past,” Cagnina concluded. “The currencies that will do well, I think, will be between alliances that can maintain good contract law during the conflict. Deep pockets certainly will help. Having said that, let’s pray that a World War II level conflict never happens.”

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Walking. I’ve been pulled twice for the crime of walking.

Wooo-woo noise and police asking me what I was doing.

My ex had same issue. Staying on business near a site in, I think, Carolina. Could see some shops including a bookshop not that far from her hotel. Rather than drive her rental car several km to get there it was a short walk. Pulled by police as someone had reported her walking down the road!

Also, crossing the road….like an adult. I got pulled in LA. Sunday morning, no traffic on a stretch of road down which I could see probably half a mile in each direction.

I crossed and got stopped by, I kid you not, a chap out of CHIPS!! Bike, moustache- the works.

He was mental…keep back sir do not approach me. I said do not approach me.

I kept saying to him, look mate I’m standing perfectly still it’s you who keeps getting closer.

He asked where I was from – Wales at that time. Which led to some bizarre discussion as he didn’t know that as a country. Thought it was a town.

I also kept pointing out that since we had been talking only two cars had gone past…very angry man.

I asked him several times to calm down, let’s just have a chat like adults but he kept shouting about not approaching him.

I think he just gave up in the end….muttered something about ‘next time…’ got on his bike and sped off.

So…I’d say walking and crossing the road.

Okay – so quite a lot of people upset by a couple of mildly amusing anecdotes.

Let me clarify:

I’m not lying/making this up. Why bother? I’m sure I could come up with something more interesting.

It’s not a critical assessment of USA society. So, Americans it’s not an attack on you personally; it was in answer to the question.

One of my favourites ‘if you don’t like somewhere, don’t go there!’ Difficult to know if you don’t like somewhere unless you go there first. I didn’t say I don’t like the USA, I’ve been there around 20 times.

I wasn’t aggressive with CHIPS person. I was more bemused. He was an angry chap.

It wasn’t a highway, it was 1 lane in each direction. Quite a wide nice road heading towards a beach area.

The other two incidents, police started off more aggressive than needed but soon were quite pleasant.

My ex wasn’t stumbling along in the middle of a freeway. We are talking about 2/3 minutes down the side of a quiet road. To some shops she could see from her hotel room window. Yes, perhaps she shouldn’t have -but again that’s the point of the question and my answer.

Yes, you may not have ever been stopped for walking. It has happened to other people. The fact you may not have had an experience does not mean other people have not.

I wasn’t arrested or apprehended or in any danger of being so.

As above – it’s just a few anecdotes; not a critical assessment of the police, the country or you personally.

Well, I am a Chinese and now doing an intern in NYC for at least 3 months. In this case at least I have seen how the people’s life looks like in different countries(although not know thoroughly about America), so let me tell you my opinion.

The key point is, you should think INDEPENDENTLY and not be heavily influenced by LOCAL social media. Let me take an example. Before I go to NYC, I have heard a lot of bad things about America and I am really worried about my own safety. I even do not dare to take out my phone for the first day in NYC cause I thought that someone could rob it. But actually, things are not that bad. Now I have lived here for three months and do not go out in the late night, until now I do not face any criminals.

So do you understand my idea? I know in America most of the social media have said a lot of bad things about china, but is it true or not? You can not know the answer until experience that country’s life by yourself. You know every country’s media will amplify bad things about other country and ignore its good things, so do not be easily affected by them, have your own idea and think INDEPENDENTLY.

Besides, I’d like to tell my idea about China and its president. Although there are some drawbacks, I thought he is a good president in total. Medical cares are becoming cheap and easier these day, corruption rate are decreasing, it’s very safe for people to hang out in late night in most of metropolitans, no drug problems and so on. I do not say that our distinguished president is a perfect person, but actually for me it’s good.

So, whether you agree with my idea, I hope that you can have your own idea and do not be easily influenced by others. Is there no freedom of talking freely in china or people are always controlled by the government? Just go there and you will know the answers. Listen to other Chinese idea and treat it carefully.

(My English is now very well, hope that there will not have any problems for you to read)

There are basically two types of women that foreigners desire when they travel to Thailand. The most in-demand are the freelancers, of course, and they are in demand by people from all countries alike. These people basically want to have fun and they hire a girl for a night, take them to their hotel room and the woman leaves the next day. Getting a girl is easy in Thailand, especially in cities like Pattaya and this attracts many tourists.

Then there are people who hire a woman for their entire trip. They basically rent the woman as their temporary girlfriend while they are in Thailand for a week or so. They explore all the places, go for sightseeing together, and have their meals together while all the expenses are paid by the man and in return, the woman is expected to take care of the man in ‘certain’ ways.

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The other kind of woman that many foreigners are in search of is a wife. Now this might sound funny to some but trust me, this is a common practice among Americans and Europeans. Divorce rates in the West are very high and finding someone who will stay loyal to you throughout their life is very rare to find nowadays in those countries. Thai women are very family-oriented and loyal, obedient to what their husbands say without raising their voices. Plus, it’s easier to convince them and get what the man wants. So many Westerns look for such women who could be their potential wives. Some stay back in Thailand, most marry and fly back to their countries.

It’s a definite possibility. No one can say what the likelihood is. 10%? 30%? 60%? Who knows.

But the United States is certainly trying damn hard to start a war with China. And China is trying damn hard to avoid one.

China is preparing for the worst. China cannot control America’s actions.

Four-Onion Steak

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 (12 ounce) boneless beef top-loin steaks, cut 1 inch thick
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 large white onion, thinly sliced
  • 1 medium leek, thinly sliced
  • 2 shallots, chopped
  • 1/2 cup beef broth
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/2 cup sliced scallions
  • Scallions, sliced into 3 inch pieces (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cut steaks into 4 portions.
  2. Combine garlic salt, chili powder, pepper and cinnamon. Use your fingers to press mixture onto both sides of each steak portion.
  3. In a large skillet cook steaks in hot oil over medium heat to desired doneness, turning once. Allow 8 to 11 minutes for medium rare or 12 to 14 minutes for medium.
  4. Transfer steaks to a serving platter, reserving drippings in the skillet. Keep warm.
  5. For sauce, add white onion, leek and shallots to skillet. Cook and stir over low heat for 5 minutes or until onions are tender.
  6. Add beef broth and Worcestershire sauce. Cook and stir for 1 to 2 minutes more or until broth is slightly reduced.
  7. Add scallions. Spoon onion mixture over steaks.
  8. Garnish with scallion pieces, if desired.

People never lose trust in any economy that :-

A. IS NOT in a stage of invasion and collapse like Ukraine at present

B. Whose currency has NOT lost the trust of the people

US, Rwanda, Ethiopia – Doesnt matter

You don’t see Ethiopians flocking and swapping their currencies for Dollars all of a sudden right?

You don’t see vegetable vendors refusing to accept Indian Rupees and demanding Gold or Dollars right?

That is a sign of losing trust in an Economy

Another sign is mass migration

Do you see that in China?

So nobody has lost the slightest trust in the Chinese Economy


Why don’t we hear of US Economic Crisis?

We absolutely do

We hear it all the time

The US Economy has problems and we hear them all the time

The Huge $ 35 Trillion Debt

The $ 1 Trillion interest payments

The Collapse of 262 banks in the recent months

The overt dependence on the Military Industrial Complex becoming near Soviet Union in nature

The Reason you don’t hear of this as a Narrative is because : THERE IS NO PURPOSE TO BE GAINED

Mainstream Media which is funded by Wall Street gains very little reporting about the US Problems

Once they had a purpose which was to use the economy as a tool of criticism of the Incumbent Government yet that is gone because the Government is now utterly a puppet of the Bigger Players

You hear of Chinese Economic Problems because THERE IS A PURPOSE TO BE GAINED

By potentially try to reduce Chinas influence by constantly touting that their economy is flailing helps :-

A. Politicians in the US posture

B. Helps the Big Players achieve their means using Tame Democrats and Republicans

That’s all there is

Every Narrative has a purpose

How many US Media channels covered the Sri Lanka crisis or Pakistan crisis?

Virtually None

It’s because there is no purpose to be gained


US is actually marking China as a serious Rival with all these narratives

  • During my six visits to China, including one to Japan, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia, I found China extremely reverend in all these regions except Vietnam.
  • China is considered a big brother, except for Japan.
  • There is a lot of mutual respect between Japan and China.

Due to China’s meteoric rise and proximity to Japan, the flight from Shanghai to Osaka took about three hours. The relationship between Japan and China is robust.

Our highly knowledgeable Japanese Guide told us several times that Japan and China are very close in sharing technology/engineering and trade.

China’s new wealthy population has a tremendous thirst for Japanese goods. Go to OSAKA and find out how much YUAN is flowing in Japan.

Chinese Tourism to Japan is enough to measure China’s love affair with Japan.

China mainly respects two countries, Japan and Singapore; both are her role models.

This region of Asia is the Next Super Power; once I travelled and came back to Canada, I realized most of the ra ra in the former so-called “The First World” is all bull shit.

Osaka’s economy gets a fair amount of mighty YUAN from Chinese tourists.

What are some mind-blowing coincidences?

A 17-year-old girl called Miche Solomon gave her mom and dad a hug and a kiss and said goodbye before rushing off to school.

Her best friend, Cassidy Nurse, gave Miche a weird look and lukewarm smile when they ran into each other at school and ran away into one of the classrooms.

Miche thought this was kind of odd and wondered what she did to upset her. Miche thought she probably said something and brushed it off before heading into the classroom.

The principal came to Miche’s classroom and asked her to come with him to the principal’s office. When Miche stepped into the office, two women introduced themselves as social workers and they told her they were sent by the police to come and get her.

They continued to explain that they were taking her to a safe house but they needed to stop off at the hospital.

The strange detour to the hospital was so that Miche could get a DNA test, which confirmed Miche Solomon was not Miche Solomon and her real name was in fact Zephany Nurse. Her mother Lavana wasn’t actually her mother but her kidnapper and she was now under arrest

The social workers took Miche to the police station where they told her that her real biological parents were waiting to meet her. It turned out that they were also the parents of her bestest friend in the whole world, Cassidy Nurse, which meant Cassidy and Miche were sisters.

It all came to light when Miche and Cassidy took a series of selfies and Cassidy would go home to show her parents saying “ Wow, don’t me and my best friend look very alike.”

They instantly knew that Miche who was kidnapped when she was a baby was their daughter and brought the photo to police.

How Russian Motorbike Squads Changed Battlefield Tactics in Ukraine

I heard this story through a friend of the family. After a 3 year courtship, her daughter was married to a beautiful young man and they were head over heels in love. On their honeymoon in the Virgin Islands they rented jet skis and he suffered a terrible head injury and died a few days later in the hospital.

Before she arrived home with his body, his relatives had gone into their apartment and cleaned out all the wedding gifts that they had given the couple just weeks earlier! She thought she’d been robbed.

Apparently, her in-laws knew all about the entire scheme and had given their relatives the keys to their apartment! She was devastated. I can’t imagine how she received them at his funeral. I think his Mom and Dad even tried to sue her for the death benefit his insurance policy paid out, but I can’t really remember.

It took her years to recover, but she finally met another man and fell in love again and they have a family together. I’m sure she was a lot more careful about judging her in-laws.

14 Years After Sending a Gift, a Boy Receives a Message That Transforms His Life

14 Years After Sending a Gift, a Boy Receives a Message That Transforms His Life.

Sometimes, we perform acts of kindness and then forget about them.

However, the impact can be much more significant for those who benefit from our generosity.

When Tyrel sent Joana a gift, he didn’t think twice about it.

You can imagine his surprise when that simple act of kindness ultimately led to something he had always desired.

Pachinko and a dying mothers wishes

Although I would be 65 years old at my company at the end of July, I came to the conclusion at the beginning of that year that I was tired of corporate life and wanted to have a little freedom. I did my calculations and told the CEO of my wish to bring forward my retirement by four months, which he agreed to.

Before the day of my retirement I wrote some 80 emails to the fellows to the colleagues with whom he had had a more personal and professional relationship. Each email consisted of two parts. The first one was generic, saying that I was going to leave the company by reason of my retirement and that I would be delighted receiving him/her to have a glass of wine in my office in a time frame of 11:30 to 13:00. The second part of the email was specific for each person. There I was evoking details of our collaboration and the nice times we had working together.

People came steadily to my place where I had prepared bottles of nice wine, plastic cups and some plates full of Jamón Ibérico (Iberian Ham) and an excellent cheese. You know a Spaniard cannot resist a good portion of “pata negra” ham.

Everything was nice and smooth. When the last one left, I packed everything carefully and went home. Two days earlier the CEO had invited me to a farewell lunch with other executives.

I never came back to the company. I have seen that once you are retired from an organization, your presence is no longer appreciated there. I have noticed this previously with other retirees who came see us. Suddenly former fellows think “This one is not one of us”. A kind of basic tribal feeling.

Sorry Mr. Sullivan, But You Just Got China So Wrong

As Jake Sullivan visited China, the 5-million-following Chinese scholar Shen Yi was initially reluctant to comment: “I don’t see the point in discussing an entire U.S. policymaking circle that is only daydreaming.” Well, he did write a commentary at the end.
August 30, 2024
Professor of International Relations at Fudan University

On August 27, U.S. National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan arrived in Beijing, kicking off a three-day visit to China. On the first day, he met with Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi. To be honest, I’m not too eager to comment on Sullivan’s visit, as it involves assessing the strategic relationship between China and the U.S., which can induce a rather anxious mindset.

Today’s United States feels as though it’s caught between a state of semi-autism and half-dreaming, with a worldview that seems to say, “I don’t care what you think, only what I think.” As for everything else? Just BACK OFF. Dealing with the U.S. today inevitably leads to a profound sense of helplessness and frustration.

To put it bluntly, the U.S. decision-making elite, especially their foreign strategy team, is not normal in its cognition. Chas W. Freeman Jr. described it as self-anesthetization and self-hypnosis. I would say it’s a deep pathology.

This pathology permeates from the inside out, and it’s not just directed at China; it’s their attitude toward the entire world. However, only China refuses to buy into it, and their distortion of China is stronger than in other areas. China is increasingly able to view the U.S. from an equal footing and recognize this abnormality. It’s like the famous fairy tale “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” where the two con men weave invisible clothes while other countries pretend to follow America’s lead in running around naked.

So, what’s Sullivan’s purpose for visiting China? As depicted in the British sitcom “Yes, Prime Minister”, whenever Western governments officially deny any link between two matters through an anonymous official, the reality is often the opposite. Sullivan’s purpose is clear: the Democratic Party needs China’s support in the 2024 U.S. presidential election to help them defeat Trump.

First, the U.S. needs China to convey to the outside world that Biden’s foreign policy is impressive, his financial policies are solid, and his China strategy is effective. Therefore, Biden is a good president, and now he’s passing the torch to Harris, making her a good president too—so everyone should vote for her.

Second, they are laying the groundwork for significant economic policy moves in September. The U.S. economy currently relies on opening and closing the floodgates—too much water? Shut them. Too little water? Open them. Other than that, they can’t produce anything substantive. Their industrial policies, manufacturing reshoring, and infrastructure development are merely a joke. The entire U.S. is caught in a massive bubble. Therefore, they need to lower interest rates, and the cut may be larger than expected. However, if China doesn’t cooperate in macroeconomic, financial, and fiscal support, the U.S. could be in serious trouble. Thus, the U.S. is asking for China’s help.

Unfortunately, the U.S. political scene is currently dominated by the notion that the States is number one and invincible, and forever. The Democrats claim that everything has been fine, and only the Republicans, infected by the “Trump virus,” think otherwise. They insist that closing one’s eyes and repeating that America is the best will make it so, and thus there’s no need to make concessions to China. America has already given China face by coming to Beijing with polite requests, and China should feel honored and bow in gratitude.

And the Republicans are even worse than their colleagues across the aisle, believing the entire world should “pay tribute” to the U.S., feeling honored to be exploited by America. Talk of negotiation? You just don’t deserve it.

This leads to the current stalemate, where America expects China to make “selfless contributions” and even feel good about it. It’s as if America slapped your right cheek, and you’re supposed to offer your left cheek and kindly ask if America’s hand hurts. America demands that China willingly accept sanctions, not speak out, not retaliate, and not bring up Taiwan. They want to do whatever they want, assuring you that Taiwan won’t be “allowed” to pursue so-called legal independence, and that’s enough, you should be grateful. How dare you confront the Philippines in the South China Sea? The Philippines is America’s little brother. And as for Russia, you should just kill it off like we say.

Sullivan is the National Security Advisor to the U.S. President, but this is not a public office. He’s appointed by the president, not requiring Senate approval. He’s just an advisor who serves the president, similar to an imperial envoy in ancient China.

Sullivan and our Foreign Minister Wang Yi have interacted before. Yet despite spending a year trying to understand China, the U.S. still hasn’t corrected its understanding. Or to be blunt, the entire U.S. diplomatic team, from President Biden downwards, is in a collective state of daydreaming, living in a fancy world in their brains.

What makes America so awkward, leaving people feeling helpless and bewildered, is that despite their lack of capability, their dreams are more beautiful than ever before.

This state is best embodied by Harris’s campaign platform: You lack it, I’ll give it to you. You don’t like this, I’ll change it to what you want. The costs and methods don’t matter; just say Harris’s name, and your dreams will come true. This is a surreal moment in the history of Western international relations and a manifestation of the decline of Western civilization, as Oswald Spengler predicted.

Sullivan’s visit is doomed to be a fruitless attempt by the U.S. to gain concessions from China without offering anything in return. The goal is to secure practical commitments from China to maximize Harris’s chances in the election, all without guaranteeing future commitments. It’s highly likely that once they win, they’ll kick down the ladder because the Republicans will certainly be tough the U.S.-China strategy as always. For China, this presents a significant challenge.

Ultimately, what matters is strength. China is special, it’s a rising power with significant emerging market characteristics. This isn’t modesty; it’s the objective reality. Yet, China is increasingly able to view America from a level playing field, adopting a calm attitude toward U.S. relations.

Economically, China certainly faces challenges, but so does the entire world, entering a long-term downturn and macroeconomic stagnation. Among major nations, China’s economic performance, in terms of overall indices, is undoubtedly the best.

For example, if America’s macroeconomic data is as good as they claim, then I’ve got three questions waiting for answers:

First, where do so many of Trump’s supporters come from?

If the incumbent claims they have managed the economy well and the American public buys it, Harris wouldn’t meet a strong opposition challenger like Trump. Unlike China, where people may voice concerns about the economy through various analyses, the U.S. claims everything is going great, while Americans themselves often say they have no idea how this supposed prosperity relates to their daily lives. If things are so great, then why the need for interest rate cuts?

Second, why was non-farm employment revised downward by 810,000 jobs from April last year to March this year?

During this period, the U.S. claimed to have created 2.9 million jobs, but the revision erased 30% of these jobs. This conveniently creates a scenario where the Federal Reserve must cut interest rates. If the economy was truly strong, shouldn’t employment be robust as well?

These employment figures imply that the U.S. requires rate cuts to stimulate the economy to the necessary degree. In this context, China should be confident in recognizing that the U.S. is seeking help from China. In this strategic game initiated by the U.S., China has no obligation to comply. China’s effort should be put on a more constructive strategy toward U.S.-China relations.

This constructive strategy must include one essential component: when the U.S. acts out of line and disrupts the stability of U.S.-China relations, and the relationship is not developing on a healthy track, China must punish and correct the U.S. This is an inevitable path.

Third, what has been the real outcome of U.S. initiatives such as the CHIPS Act, the Inflation Reduction Act, and the $1.2 trillion infrastructure plan?

How many charging stations have been built? How many new railways, roads, and bridges have been constructed? What kind of impact has this had on the U.S. economy? How are the new chip factories progressing? What is the output of these new chip plants? How many computing power centers have been built in the U.S. using advanced computing chips? How many companies are applying large-scale models in ways that are truly creating value and driving productivity growth in the U.S.?

After reflecting on these three questions, we can form a more balanced understanding of the U.S.-China strategic competition. In this new framework, we have reason to believe that China does not need to make concessions to the U.S.

We should also have a broader perspective on Sullivan’s visit or the ongoing strategic dialogue between China and the U.S. Now, China should act more like a patient teacher educating a stubborn student, guiding the next step of America by a combination of words and actions.

China aims to safeguard its national interests while maintaining a healthy and dynamic balance in U.S.-China relations. This is not the unilateral responsibility of one side. Achieving this benefits both sides, and a framework of “tit for tat” and “word for word, action for action” will gradually form, becoming the general trend of future development.

Sullivan arrived and stepped off the plane with no red carpet, only a clearly marked red line on the ground. Even if there’s no carpet now, he doesn’t mind; he still came. Last time, when Blinken visited Shanghai, he was left on his own, but he didn’t mind. Why? Because he doesn’t have the stature to act that way, nor does he have the leverage to make so many demands. Everyone is discussing matters pragmatically—regardless of China’s attitude, they still have to sit down and talk seriously. This marks a subtle shift in the dynamics.

In this phase of asymmetric and uneven power growth and transition, recognizing and understanding these details is essential for fully comprehending and managing U.S.-China relations.

Shorpy

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Don’t read if you don’t want to take the red pill.

Humans could never be allowed to rule in a democracy.

In the documentary called “The Century Of The Self”, you explore how today’s society came up to be and how human nature was shaped during this process.

Sigmund Freud (Austrian neurologist) believed that humans are irrational beings, dominated by fears and desires which lurked in their subconscious mind. You could never allow such irrational creatures to be in charge of a democratic system.

Edward Bernays — Freud’s nephew who lived in the USA—soon realized the potential of Freud’s insights and swiftly put them into practice assisting Woodrow Wilson in convincing the American public that by joining WW1 the US would be helping bring democracy to Europe. Given the success of this wartime propaganda Bernays then looked to its implementation during peacetime.

Having seen how effective propaganda could be during war, Bernays wondered whether it might prove equally useful during peacetime.

Yet propaganda had acquired a somewhat pejorative connotation (which would be further magnified during World War II), so Bernays promoted the term “public relations.”

Drawing on the insights of his Uncle Sigmund – a relationship Bernays was always quick to mention – he developed an approach he dubbed “the engineering of consent.” He provided leaders the means to “control and regiment the masses according to our will without their knowing about it.” To do so, it was necessary to appeal not to the rational part of the mind, but the unconscious.

Bernays knew he had to build a social system in which the masses were not allowed to rule. He had to give them the illusion of a democracy.

From his seminal work of 1928, Propaganda, comes this chilling quote –

The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in a democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, and our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of…. It is they who pull the wires that control the public mind.

The Nazis implemented the same concepts as Bernays, but they abandoned altogether the illusion of a democracy. They chose instead a straightforward approach: the energy of the masses should be channeled into a united force that would maintain the nation glued together.

Bernays’ plan was to transform the masses into passive consumers.

As long as people’s hidden desires were satisfied and exponentially multiplied, the Government could keep on doing whatever it saw fit.

Through this transformation, people became obedient workers of a society that spoon-fed them the illusion of democracy and well-being.

One of the greatest stunts Edward Bernays has ever pulled off was when he got American women to smoke—an unprecedented event in USA’s history.

You see, Bernays had to go beyond the obvious.

Cigarettes were thought of as a male products. No one thought a woman would smoke. And then he realized—he didn’t have to use logic to make women smoke. Bernays paid a group of women to go on a smoking march. He subtly spread rumors to journalists about the upcoming march.

And so it happened.

Dozens of women marched on the streets carrying “torches of freedom”.

Yes—cigarettes had become a symbol of freedom.

The news spread like a wildfire throughout the USA thanks to Bernays’ rumors.

It resonated so well with the masses because they associated cigarettes with freedom—one of the USA’s long-lasting values. By appealing to their emotional side, women started to smoke.

Bernays achieved his mission and the tobacco industry grew larger as their profit now had increased tenfold due to the gigantic success of Bernays’ campaign.

From one success to another, Bernays hired countless psychologists to analyze the behavior of people and better understand how they could satisfy their irrational desires.

Socialism failed where capitalism thrived.

The communists tried to suppress these subconscious, irrational forces hidden within the humans.

It always failed.

The Americans had to find a better tactic to prevent the masses from revolting against the government in times of peace.

During the war, all governments used this chance to channel human’s primitive forces and turn them into mindless killing machines. But you could not do the same in times of peace.

The consumer society of today is a society built on lies and deceit.

We have practically been trained to seek more and more goods that are not a necessity in itself but rather a means to satisfy our constant wants.

I invite you to watch the documentary on Youtube for the full experience and a complete understanding of the situation.

Here is the link to the documentary: The Century Of The Self.

Further reading: The manipulation of the American mind: Edward Bernays and the birth of public relations

Christmas Eggnog Cherry Nut Loaf

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Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 1 1/4 cups eggnog
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
  • 1/2 cup chopped red or green maraschino cherries

Instructions

  1. Stir together flour, baking powder and salt.
  2. Mix egg, eggnog and oil. Stir in dry ingredients, mixing well.
  3. Fold in nuts and cherries after they have been coated with flour.
  4. Pour into greased and floured 8 x 4 inch loaf pans.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 40 to 50 minutes or until tests done.
  6. Cool for 10 minutes before removing from pans.

“Back in the day” wages were livable, employers looked after their employees, and the cost of everything was within reach for the working class. Inflation and interest rates were more than manageable as well. They were doing well. Fast forward to the mid to late 80s and interest rates had skyrocketed. Fast forward to around 2005 and real estate prices went through the roof. Around 1995–2000 people could still buy a house in Toronto for $200–325,000. Today, that same house can easily exceed $1M. Interest rates in 1996–1999 were about 5.7% for a mortgage, and around 1985 they were easily in the 22–28% range. Now add the cost of a home and even with a 5.7% interest rate most people cannot afford the monthly mortgage payments due to the cost of the home alone.

So you have to do some simple research using your desktop computer, laptop, tablet or cell phone to compare prices of many items from around 1955, 1970, 1985, 2010, and then 2023/2024 to see what’s happened to everything to see why they were so much ahead back then.

The MoA Week In Review – OT 2024-219

Ukraine:

War with Russia:

Election:

Palestine:


Other issues:

Empire:

Boeing:

China:

Use as open (not related to the wars in Ukraine and Palestine) thread …

Posted by b on September 15, 2024 at 12:59 UTC | Permalink

In 1956, Howard Hughes began producing an epic fresco centered on the character of Genghis Khan.

The film was called The Conqueror and it would become one of the worst flops in history, notably because of the casting of John Wayne in the lead role, more credible in the role of the cowboy than the Mongol emperor…

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main qimg 2a17ac62ead6db3d0ca43288f1bfc1f7 lq

To recreate the Mongolian steppes, Howard Hughes decided to film in the state of Utah. He chose a site near the town of St. George.

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main qimg bd6893d3babfec5cff840cdecc4a59ff lq

The problem is that this place is quite close to Yucca Flat, the area in Nevada where nuclear tests were carried out a few years earlier (11 atomic bombs were detonated as part of the Operation Upshot-Knothole program).

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The film will be shot 220 km from the test location, which may seem far away in absolute terms, but the filming site is constantly swept by winds that come from Nevada.

Radioactive dust is present throughout the area…

Aware of the potential risk, Howard Hughes asked the government about the danger of filming there. He was assured that there was no risk.

So filming is moving forward. For 13 weeks, a crew of 220 people will spend their days on location. They are filming mainly in the Snow Canyon, a natural canyon, known today for retaining radioactive dust for a long time in its winding folds.

Once filming was completed, Howard Hughes also had 60 tons of dirt transported from St. George to Hollywood so that the ground in the remaining studio shots would match the exteriors.

In doing so, and without knowing it, he exposes his team even more to radioactive dust…

The impact of this filming on the health of the crew members would only be discovered years later.

Over the next 25 years, 91 of the 220 people who worked on the film would develop cancer. That’s 41%.

And 46 people would die, including actors John Wayne (72, lung, throat and stomach cancer), Susan Hayward (56, breast, uterine and brain cancer), Lee Van Cleef (throat cancer), Agnes Moorehead (uterine cancer) and director Dick Powell (53, lymph cancer).

Of course, not all of these cancers can be attributed to filming in a contaminated area, but since it has been calculated that the rate of cancers affecting the crew was three times higher than the national average, it is difficult not to see a link.

Furthermore, a study conducted in the 1970s in St. George determined that cancer victims were 5 times higher in that city than in other places in the state that were not in the path of the winds coming from Nevada…

A law was also passed in 1990 to compensate victims of cancer in the region, recognized as being linked to nuclear testing.

Interesting buildings and constructions

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Well, I am on disability and took full advantage of being able to own a home. There are a few loopholes I have sometimes needed to take advantage of!

First off, my taxes started out being $935 a year. I could do that and paid in full. In 2020, the city raised me to $1,040. Well, okay-just don’t do that again. In 2021, a school levvy passed, and it went up another $250. Good grief no-now I CAN’T do that amidst rampant inflation! I reluctantly turned in my application for exemption for 2022 taxes in spite of maybe being able to do extreme pinching for it. Turned out to be a wise choice, because all of our taxes DOUBLED last year! Meanwhile due to inflation, I watched my taxes be slashed further this year, and now it is under $300. I did not ASK for such a significant reduction. AITA for taking advantage of it and not volunteering to pay more???

One legal way to maintain my home is to go take out a HEL or HELOC and aquire debt to fix things, as a “spend down” in assets. Oh THEN I am definitely incredibly impoverished! And of course, I put my home at risk! I choose not to, in spite of it reducing my income down to Medicaid limits.

Another legal way to save without losing benefits is to get a required ABLE account. However, it is a private company, NOT free, and only managed electronically. The total fees charged can be up to $300 a year, with a $33 annual maintenence fee, $25.00 to get a debit card that has a $2.50 a month fee, $20.00 transaction fees, $15.00 transfer fees, and the list goes on. That is pretty excessive!

There is an annual “gift” exemption. Anyone can “gift” me up to $2,000 a year, and so long as it is quickly spent on qualifying expenses, this is legal. My family goes ahead and takes advantage of it, of course! They can also “gift” me a free maintenence project, which they have done twice as well.

In order to keep my Medicaid, I can only have $2,000 in assets (excluding belongings, one house, one car) so I liquidate all savings down to $0 periodically. It is never much at a time. I take advantage of a “because it is unfair” clause with regard to that, because whatever cash I may have above that, goes into home maintenance-a qualifying “spend down” expense nowadays thank goodness! This leaves nothing available for medical expenses because homes need roughly $6,000 a year in maintenance and insurance. All of the savings is gone then. Poof!

This is legal according to the FEDS, and NOT legal according to State. I DID lose my state Medicaid, but due to a tiny loophole in my particular YEAR and TYPE of disability (known as DAC), “we may be able to help you get it back”. In other words, I am grandfathered in all the way back to 1990, when laws were WAY different. As a result of losing my Medicaid, my healthcare costs often suddenly shoot up hundreds a month, bringing my income down. Because income limits today are more strict than they were in 1990, I can get Medicaid’s “Extra Help”, in spite of being inelligible according to 2024. I exploit this loophole whenever necessary 100 percent. AITA for doing so??

(For everybody’s information, I am inelligible for ALL other assistance programs, even if I become homeless. I cannot get help with food, utilities, phone, housing or internet-all things offered to other low income individuals. I am fine trying to square it all, though I can only afford one meal a day or every other day.)

Another loophole is that I CAN work part-time for a period of six months without losing anything. I can earn about $1,000 a month and be okay, so I work for six months at a time about every other year. Though I lose Medicaid at the time, that’s fair, in spite of it all going to food, auto maintenance, and clothes. This is how I have been able to make it for the last 20 years. A few small loopholes I take full advantage of when necessary.

Ultimately, I try to pay for as much as I can, going without things I consider “luxuries”, such as entertainment, vacations, eating out, cosmetics, manicures, fancy hairstyles, and extra clothing, jewelry and accessories. However, these few loopholes are sometimes necessary to exploit to the fullest, especially since Social Security’s COLA did NOT keep up with the significant inflation over the last five years, leaving us all to somehow “swallow” it all. For example, I received about a $280 increase since 2020, and that was all taken up by my insurance alone last year, and will now rise annually indefinitely, when it previously did NOT. This leaves $0 for the $250 increase in monthly food costs. By the time all is said and done, the house gobbled up every last penny, so in spite of getting over $2,000 a month, I am broke by week three. Loopholes, please!

One day while I was working at a fast food joint, this lady left her Louis Vuitton bag on a table. I waited about 20 minutes but remember seeing her leave and so I grabbed it and put it in lost and found (literally a box we had in the back) I never once looked inside.

My boss said, since you found it, if no one turns up for it in a month you can have it. I gleamed but really thought about a lady leaving something so valuable behind. Of course she’ll be back!

A month went by. Not even so much as a call happened. My boss said, “hey, it’s been a month…do you want that bag?” I said sure and went in the back to retrieve it. I unzipped the top and to my surprise nothing was in it but a piece of paper.

I opened up the piece of paper and it was a receipt for the bag. On the receipt was a note saying: “To the girl who needed a new purse during the holidays.” Whoever this lady was intended on doing this in the first place. I looked at the receipt….$1700 for this bag!? I carefully put my items in it and took it home and didn’t say another word about it. People still to this day think it’s a good fake. If only they knew! (At that time I was only making 9 bucks an hour…no way I’d be able to afford this bag easily)

Edit: I just want to add as some of you asked why I didn’t just sell it and get the money instead? I still lived with my parents at that time and that purse made me look good at a ton of job interviews lol I’d pull out my portfolio and resume from that bag and I landed a job that not only gave me salary to pay for one or two but for four at a time. I still keep the bag because it reminds me of humbling days when I didn’t have much and reminds me to give back to others. Not saying I’m saving the world by any means, but I stick to a low budget because of that bag. I could easily go back to those days and that bag reminds me of that.

Perry Terrell

Elephant In The Room Shaped Like A Monkey

By Perry Terrell

 

“You suck.”

“Lauren!” yelled Jared. “For lack of a better term?” He thought she was joking.

“There is no better term. You just plain suck.”

“Why?” Jared asked.

“Why? Why? Why, you ask? I see that monkey. I know it’s dark in this space ship, but I see that monkey. I thought since the two of us won this mission, it would be a great chance for us to be close and really get to know each other. But you brought a monkey along? Why would you do that? Why?”

Jared looked puzzled. He was almost dazed and confused by Lauren’s outburst and attitude.

“Suppose I want to kiss you and wind up kissing that monkey.”

“Well, she has lips too.” He laughed so hard. He couldn’t see what the problem was with the monkey. Also, he still thought she was joking.

“She? She? It’s a she?” Lauren was screaming.

Jared was making frowning faces but Lauren couldn’t see his expressions because of the darkness.

For a moment there was silence.

Lauren went to the window and raised the shade. They were already on the moon and all she could see were Lunar Craters. Hundreds and thousands of them.

“I want to go home,” she said.

“Ahhh, we’re on the moon, Lauren. We have data to gather and pictures to take. Besides, you could have brought a pet.” Jared was trying to comfort her. He was saying to himself that this was going to be a real long mission if she keeps this up.

“Well, my horse was in the shop and I couldn’t get him out in time for this trip.”

For a moment Jared thought she was going to join him in a little humor. He went over to her by the window and put his arms around her waist.

“Monkey, monkey, monkey,” she started yelling. “Get your monkey away from me.”

Jared threw his hands up and back away. He said to himself again, yep, this is going to be a very long and painful mission.

Meanwhile, the monkey was kicked back trying to see what she could see, mostly listening.

Jared went over to his monkey and patted her on the head.

“How did you get that monkey on this ship? I didn’t see you with a monkey packed with your things.”

“The Captain put the monkey on the ship for me.” Immediately after he said, “for me,” he regretted it. He should have made it seem like the Captain did it as a part of the mission.

“So, it is your monkey,” said Lauren.

“The monkey is a part of the mission.”

“By doing what exactly? You do know that three is a crowd.”

“Lauren, please. Let’s just do our job and get along. The monkey is not a problem.”

Lauren had romantic feelings for Jared. She was good friends with the moderator and had her manipulate the drawing to have the two of them paired up to take this mission together. There were a couple other candidates qualified to take this mission and gather the necessary data, but by the luck of the draw, she was paired with Jared.

But with that monkey in the room, she had regrets. Although, she did fancy herself as romantically persuasive, she decided to ignore the monkey and try and concentrate on Jared. Besides, they were going to be stuck in this space ship on the moon for 27.3 earth days or there abouts.

In her astronaut training, she think she read that if a person stays in one place on the moon, then the sun rises, stays up for about two earth weeks, then set, and stays down for about another two earth weeks. Then that makes a complete day on the moon which lasts as long as 27.3 earth days, or something like that. She was almost sure she remembered the correct calculations.

“OMG!” said Lauren. “This monkey is going to start stinking. I’m not going to try and clean her up.”

“Okay, Lauren,” she said to herself. “Get a grip. Ignore the monkey in the room. Twenty-seven point three days alone, well almost alone with Jared is going to be a good thing. At least the monkey won’t be talking.”

Lauren took a few deep breaths and composed herself the best she could. Then she started feeling around and trying to see Jared. She couldn’t find him, so she called out.

“Where are you, Jared?” Then she thought that he better not be hugging that monkey. She didn’t mention the monkey as she was trying to make peace.

Jared wanted out of this trip too, but it was so very much too late and only the first day.

“I’m over here getting the cameras in place. We need to take the videos and digital snapshots.”

Lauren couldn’t help herself. She said, “snapshots and videos of what? Selfies with you and your monkey?”

“You are a brat, Lauren.”

“You are calling me a brat?”

“Yeah, I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

“Well see this.” The monkey handed her a banana peel and she threw it across the ship.

“You know, I never wanted to go out with you, Lauren.”

“But you did. Why? Was your monkey busy that night?”

“Well, why did you accept?

“I took one look at you, Jared, and you looked like an idiot looking for his keys under a street lamp because that was where the light was. And I said to myself, he can’t be that pathetic. He is an astronaut afterall. You see, I have a weakness for the underdog.

“Oh, you flatter me.” In his mind he called her a witch and a few other things.

“You are like a non-drowsy sleeping pill and a crash landing all rolled up in one, Lauren Dear.”

“Wait. Are you calling me an oxymoron?”

“Well at least you are not an idiot, yet. But you do have more beans inside you than a burrito.”

Lauren realized she was not accomplishing what she had set out to do which was to keep Jared in her life. She felt that she was getting to know him alright. But, so far, they were not getting closer.

She thought it over in her mind. We need to call a truce. I suppose I should jump to it first.

“Truce, truce, truce,” she kept saying.

Jared took a deep breath.

“A truce? That works for me.”

Jared started feeling and looking around for Lauren, slipped on the banana peel and landed on top of her.

She put her arms around him and was thinking to herself that Jared’s monkey might not be too bad to have along after all.

Jared knew where the banana peel came from and was thinking the same thing.

“This is going to be a great mission, Lauren felt good to say.

“Yes, Dear, it’s going to be great waking up every morning and not feel like I’m in the middle of the freeway.

Lauren wanted to react to that remark, but she let it go and kept holding Jared in her arms.

Cajun Deep-Fried Turkey

Deep-frying is the trendy way to cook turkey in record time! Deep-frying makes for exceptionally juicy meat and crispy skin, too!

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54b108430351d28b92bbb83b47fae262

Yield: 20 servings

Ingredients

Cajun Spice Rub

  • 2 tablespoons black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon ground chipotle chiles or ground red pepper (cayenne)
  • 1 tablespoon white pepper
  • 1 tablespoon ground cumin
  • 1 tablespoon ground nutmeg
  • 1 tablespoon salt

Cajun Marinade

  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper

Turkey

  • 1 whole turkey (10 to 12 pounds), thawed if frozen
  • 1 poultry or meat injector
  • 1 turkey deep-fryer, consisting of 40- to 60-quart pot with basket, burner and propane tank
  • 5 gallons peanut, canola or safflower oil

Instructions

  1. Read the Turkey Deep-Frying Do’s and Don’ts (below).
  2. In small bowl, mix all spice rub ingredients until blended; set aside.
  3. In shallow glass or plastic bowl, mix all marinade ingredients until salt is dissolved; set aside.
  4. Remove giblets and neck from turkey; rinse turkey well with cold water; pat dry thoroughly with paper towels. Take extra care to dry both inside cavities, because water added to hot oil can cause excessive bubbling. To allow for good oil circulation through the cavity, do not tie legs together. Cut off wing tips and tail because they can get caught in the fryer basket. Place turkey in large pan.
  5. Rub inside and outside of turkey with spice rub. Inject marinade into turkey, following directions that came with injector. Cover turkey in pan; place in refrigerator at least 8 hours but no longer than 24 hours.
  6. Place outdoor gas burner on level dirt or grassy area. Add oil to cooking pot until about 2/3 full. Clip deep-fry thermometer to edge of pot. At medium-high setting, heat oil to 375 degrees F. (May take 20 to 40 minutes depending on outside temperature, wind and weather conditions.) Place turkey, neck end down, on basket or rack. When deep-fry thermometer reaches 375 degrees F, slowly lower turkey into hot oil. Level of oil will rise due to frothing caused by moisture from turkey but will stabilize in about 1 minute.
  7. Immediately check oil temperature; increase flame so oil temperature is maintained at 350 degrees F. If temperature drops to 340 degrees F or below, oil will begin to seep into turkey.
  8. Fry turkey about 3 to 4 minutes per pound, or about 35 to 42 minutes for 10- to 12-pound turkey. Stay with fryer at all times because heat may need to be regulated throughout frying.
  9. At minimum frying time, carefully remove turkey to check for doneness. A meat thermometer inserted into thickest part of breast should read 170 degrees F. If inserted into thigh, it should read 180 degrees F. If necessary, return turkey to oil and continue cooking. When turkey is done, let drain a few minutes.
  10. Remove turkey from rack; place on serving platter. Cover with foil; let stand 20 minutes for easier carving.

Notes

Success:

For best results when deep-frying, use cooking oils that can withstand high temperatures. Peanut, canola and safflower oils are at the top of the list!

Turkey Deep-Frying Do’s and Don’ts

We want your turkey-frying experience to be successful, especially if it’s your first time, so we’ve gathered these important reminders. Please take a moment to read them before getting ready for a great-tasting feast!

Do’s:

  • Follow the use-and-care directions for your deep-fryer when deep-frying turkey, and review all safety tips.
  • Place the fryer on a level dirt or grassy area away from the house or garage. Never fry a turkey indoors, including in a garage or any other structure attached to a building.
  • Use only oils with high smoke points, such as peanut, canola or safflower oil.
  • Wear old shoes that you can slip out of easily and long pants just in case you do spill some oil on you.
  • Immediately wash hands, utensils, equipment and surfaces that have come in contact with the raw turkey.
  • Have a fire extinguisher nearby for added safety.
  • Serve the turkey right after cooking, and store leftovers in the refrigerator within 2 hours of cooking.
  • Allow the oil to cool completely before disposing of it or storing it.

Don’ts

  • Never fry on wooden decks or other structures that could catch fire, and don’t fry on concrete, which could be stained by the oil.
  • Never leave the hot oil unattended, and do not allow children or pets near the cooking area.

To learn more about deep-frying turkeys, visit National Turkey Federation – eatturkey.com.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 335 (Calories from Fat 190 ); Total Fat 21 g (Saturated Fat 5 g); Cholesterol 100 mg; Sodium 800 mg; Total Carbohydrate 0g (Dietary Fiber 0g); Protein 36 g Percent Daily Value*: Vitamin A 0%; Vitamin C 0%; Calcium 0%; Iron 10

Exchanges: 5 Lean Meat; 1 Fat

* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Betty Crocker

A close online friend of mine suffers from schizophrenia. And believe me when I tell you, this man and his condition are very real. Just a year ago he was “talking to angels” and had “otherworldy deities” giving him quests, divine tasks and missions to go on. The Goddess Freyja spoke to him and assigned him with a list of things he had to do. Once, in Romania, he heard an ethereal voice telling him a nearby lake was a portal to another world — he stripped naked, right there and then, and jumped into the ice cold water. It was the middle of winter.

This man is 35 years old and not in touch with his parents — he hates them and blames them on his predicament. In fact he is short because, in his mind, the medication they put him on stunted his growth. His short height causes him to be overlooked by society, women in particular.

He’s schizophrenic with a dash of incel-ism, too. An unfortunate connection. Not too long ago he got it into his mind that the United States government had screwed up his life. Why this is, he did not specify.

He declared he, therefore, has no loyalty towards Washington and “must join the Russian army in Moscow”… In his world fairies are real. Reptillian creatures hide underneath the skin of government leaders. Everyone is in cahoots with everyone. Enemies lurk everywhere.

For the last two years, each time I speak to this man he has been a little lesser than the week before. When he’s on his meds, he’s stable, thinks of himself “cured”. Then the moment he thinks this, he goes off them. And ruins again every relationship and friendship he has. I’m the last man standing among his friends. Every time we speak I wonder — will there be another?

Samuel L. Jackson In THE SURVIVORS – English Movie | Hollywood Action Movie In English |John Cusack

This is a GREAT movie. It really is. I always loved John Cusack and this is jsut a special kind of zombie movie.


Heckled as a President

This is my favourite list of my travels so far.

  • Chinese food is the best/most affordable and excellent.
  • Thai food is one delicious food that is affordable and almost at par with the top five.
  • Moroccan food is excellent/affordable, and fabulous.
  • European foods, except a few, are affordable. The rest is all drama and just hype.
  • Greek and Portuguese food is affordable, and I can live on them. Crete cuisine is a world standard for being the most healthy food, and I mimic that cuisine here in Canada.
  • In some of the other countries I visited, the food was the most despicable/filthy/I never will see those filthy countries.
  • I found McDonald’s the best/safest bet in North America and Europe. One European country known for ancient glory, but in reality, today, it is just hype, nothing to write home about.
  • I go fully prepared. If I do not find the right place, I have my dehydrated food and many other fruit options from the market.

a. While eating lunch, I saw chickens feeding on the garbage pile through the window. This experience killed my appetite, and when I came to Canada, I ate eggs and chicken for at least one year.

b. In one country, we ate on the patio, and a lady with small children kept begging for food. By the way, it is NOT South Asia. It is one of the most visited countries due to some hype and drama. In reality, it was a waste.

India.

I Asked Jesus about Aliens (NDE)

Pepe Escobar
September 14, 2024
The first meeting of security experts/National Security Advisors under the expanded BRICS+ format in St. Petersburg unveiled quite a few nuggets.
.

The first meeting of security experts/National Security Advisors under the expanded BRICS+ format at the Konstantinovsky Palace in St. Petersburg unveiled quite a few nuggets.

Let’s start with China. Foreign Minister Wang Yi proposed four BRICS-centric security initiatives. Essentially, BRICS+ – and beyond, considering further expansion – should aim at peaceful coexistence; independence; autonomy; and true multilateralism, which implies a rejection of Exceptionalism.

At the BRICS table, the overarching theme was how member-nations should support each other despite so many challenges – mostly unleashed by you-know-who.

“you-know-who.”

On India, Secretary of the Russian Security Council Sergei Shoigu, meeting with Indian National Security Adviser Ajit Doval, stressed the strength of the alliance, “confidently standing the test of time”.

The larger context was in fact offered in parallel, in Switzerland, at the Geneva Center for Security Policy, by the always delightful Foreign Minister S.Jaishankar:

“There was a club called G7, but you wouldn’t let anybody else into it – so we said, we’d go and form our own club (…) It’s actually a very interesting group because if you look at it, typically any club or any group has either a geographical contiguity or some common historical experience or a very strong economic connect.” But with BRICS what stands out is “big countries rising in the international system.”

Cut to Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov, stressing how Russia and Brazil “have similar approaches to key international issues”, emphasizing how Moscow cherishes the current “bilateral mutual understanding and interaction, including in the light of the simultaneous presidencies of BRICS and G20 this year.”

In 2024, Russia presides over BRICS while Brazil presides over the G20.

The Russia-Iran strategic partnership

President Putin, apart from addressing the meeting, had bilaterals with all the top players. Putin noted how 34 nations “have already expressed their desire to join the activities of our association in one form or another.”

Meeting with Wang Yi, Putin stressed that the Russia-China strategic partnership is in favor of a just world order, a principle supported by the Global South. Wang Yi confirmed President Xi Jinping has already accepted the official Russian invitation for the BRICS summit next month in Kazan.

Putin also met with the Secretary of Iran’s Supreme National Security Council, Ali Ahmadian. Putin confirmed he is expecting Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian for another visit to Russia, apart from the BRICS summit, to sign their new strategic partnership agreement.

Geoeconomics is key. The development of the International North South Transportation Corridor (INSTC) was confirmed as a top Russia-Iran priority.

Shoigu for his part confirmed, “We are ready to expand cooperation between our security councils.” The deal will be signed by both Presidents soon. Moreover, Shoigu added that Iran’s entry into BRICS advances cooperation among members to form a “common and indivisible architecture of strategic security and a fair polycentric world order.”

Now compare it with the new collective West “strategy” – adopted by U.S., UK, France and Germany: another sanctions wave against Iran related to the case of Iranian missiles transferred to Russia.

Ahmed Bakhshaish Ardestani, a member of the Iranian Parliament’s National Security and Foreign Policy Commission, confirmed early this week that Iran is sending missiles and drones to Russia as part of their defense agreements.

But the heart of the story is that these missiles are Russian anyway; they are just being produced in Iran.

While security was being discussed in St. Petersburg, China was hosting the BRICS Forum on Partnership on New Industrial Revolution 2024 in Xiamen, in Fujian province.

Talk about interlocking BRICS cooperation: as sanctioned-to-oblivion Iran has been trying to get access to new industrial technologies, Iran-China collaboration on everything from AI to green technologies will be surging further on down the road.

A new Eurasian security architecture

The heart of the matter is China’s rising and rising status as the top global trade power – as scores of nations across the Global South adapt to the fact that interaction with China is the privileged vector to improve their own domestic living standards and socioeconomic development. This monumental shift in international relations is reducing the collective West to a bunch of headless chickens.

China’s increased power is reflected in every major geoeconomics move: from the RCEP (Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership), a mega inter-Asia free trade agreement (FTA) to the countless ramifications of Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) projects, and all the way to BRICS+ cooperation. The future of all Global South nations involved spell out getting closer and closer to China.

In sharp contrast, the Hegemon – and that is bipartisan, all the way down from the rarified plutocracy – simply cannot contemplate a world that it does not control. An EU prone to acute disaggregation basically “reasons” along the same lines. For the whole collective West, the demented double trouble desire of maintaining hegemony while preventing the rise of China is unsustainable.

Add to it the mad obsession of the current U.S. administration to inflict a “strategic defeat” on Russia since it rejected Moscow’s late 2021 proposal for a new European security architecture, actually an “indivisibility of security” concerning the whole of Eurasia.

This new pan-Eurasian security system proposed by Putin was discussed in detail at the latest Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) summit. Putin actually stated that a “decision was made to turn the SCO regional anti-terrorist structure into a universal center tasked with responding to the entire range of security threats.”

It all started with the concept of “Greater Eurasian Partnership”, which Putin advanced in late 2015. That was refined during his annual address to the Federal Assembly last February. And then, in a meeting with key Russian diplomats in June, Putin stressed that the time was right to kickstart a comprehensive discussion of bilateral and multilateral guarantees embedded in a new vision for collective Eurasian security.

The idea, from the start, was always inclusive. Putin stressed the need to create a security architecture open to “all Eurasian countries that wish to participate”, including “European and NATO countries.”

Add to it the drive to conduct discussions with all sorts of Eurasia-wide multilateral organizations, such as the Union State of Russia and Belarus, the CSTO, the EAEU, the CIS, and the SCO.

Crucially, this new security architecture should “gradually phase out the military presence of external powers in the Eurasian region.” Translation: NATO.

And on the geoeconomic front, apart from developing a series of international transportation corridors across Eurasia such as the INSTC, the new deal should “establish alternatives to Western-controlled economic mechanisms”, from expanding the use of national currencies in settlements to establishing independent payment systems: two top BRICS priorities, which will feature prominently in the Kazan summit next month.

We want a three-front war

As it stands, a deaf, dumb and blind Washington remains obsessed with its single-minded declared goal of inflicting a strategic defeat on Russia.

Russian Ambassador to the U.S. Anatoly Antonov cuts to the chase: “It is impossible to negotiate with terrorists”, adding that “no schemes or so-called ‘peace initiatives’ to cease fire in Eastern Europe without taking into account Russia’s national interests are possible. Conferences won’t help either, no matter how beautifully they are named. As in the years of the Great Patriotic War, fascism must be eradicated. Goals and objectives of the special military operation will be fulfilled. No one should have any doubts that this is exactly how it’s going to be.”

And that brings us to the current incandescent juncture. There are only two options ahead for the U.S. proxy war against Russia in Ukraine: an unconditional Kiev surrender, or escalation towards a NATO war against Russia.

Ryabkov has no illusions – even as he puts it quite diplomatically:

“Signals and actions that we are witnessing today are aimed towards escalation. This remark will not force us to change our course, but will create additional risks and dangers for the United States and its allies, clients and satellites, no matter where they are.”

After bombing the concept of diplomacy, the Hegemon has also bombed the concept of security. Acute dementia in U.S. Think Tankland has even reached the point of dreaming of a three-front war. And this from an “indispensable nation” whose mighty Navy has been utterly humiliated by the Houthis in the Red Sea.

It is really a spectacle for the ages to see the plutocracy of a 200-year-plus savage nation which essentially looted most of its land from others believe it can simultaneously challenge the Persians, the Russians, and an Asian civilization with 5,000 years of recorded history.

Well, savages will always be savages.

My credentials… I stabbed 3 men before turning 18. First thing to know. You’re an idiot if you get into a knife fight. If you win, you may still be cut up some… and then you go to jail. If you lose, you might be dead. If you believe in a fair fight, you’re an idiot. You just want to kill, or neutralize your opponent. I don’t believe in fighting, and I ll do everything possible to avoid one… I will refuse to fight. It’s different if I m forced to defend myself. I ll do anything to win, distract, pretend submission… any kind of cheat…and then I try to kill the bastard. I have handled and backed down up to five guys… without exposing the knife… my fearless confidence freaked them out.

A Bowie knife is good to the extent it has a very sharp point. It’s harder to stab someone than you think… a few layers of clothing, a little belly fat… the knife may barely penetrate. On the flip side, a lean body builder in light clothing is the easiest guy to stab and gut.

Also worth noting… I initiated the violence… I was being threatened, told to give up my wallet, whatever…. I was always calm and compliant, but as soon as it was clear that I was dealing with a serious threatening predator, I started trying to kill them. The fury and surprise totally overwhelmed them. And I didn’t have to kill them.

Also worth noting…

If I have a split second of surprise in my favor, and an absence of bad luck, I can neutralize 3 or 4 guys before they get over the shock.

And finally.. if I get hold of you with my left hand, and have a knife in my right hand. You’re toast.

You all should stop thinking about fair knife fights… if you’re worried about being fair, you shouldn’t be engaging in violence. Youre indulging in silly fantasy.

Shorpy

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The South China Morning Post has called the Congo (The Democratic Republic of Congo) the epicenter of China’s investment in Africa. I doubt that this coup attempt was done without the tacit or explicit support of the US national security state.

On 19 May 2024, US citizen Christian Malanga tried to overthrow the Congolese government. He was killed during the coup attempt. I think it’s unfortunate that Malanga convinced his young son and his son’s friend to take part in the coup. Those two have been sentenced to death. Perhaps Congo can show some mercy. Young men do stupid things, particularly if they have an idiot for a father.

From AP News:

KINSHASA, Congo (AP) — A military court in Congo, one of Africa’s largest countries, has convicted three Americans and dozens of others of taking part in a coup attempt and imposed “the harshest penalty, that of death.”

The court convicted the 37 defendants, including the three Americans and imposed the death penalty in a verdict delivered by presiding judge Maj. Freddy Ehuma at an open-air military court proceeding.

The defendants, a majority of them Congolese but also including a Briton, a Belgian and a Canadian, were charged with terrorism, murder, criminal association and illegal possession of weapons, among other charges.

The lawyer who defended the six foreigners said they would appeal the verdicts.

The U.S. State Department strongly discourages travel to Congo, warning of violent crime and civil unrest. Here’s how the three Americans ended up in the middle of the coup attempt.

What happened during the coup attempt in May

In Congo’s capital Kinshasa, a ragtag group including three Americans tried to unseat the country’s President Felix Tshisekedi. They were led by a little-known opposition figure, Christian Malanga, who sold used cars and dabbled in gold mining before persuading his Utah-born son to join in the foiled coup.

The coup attempt began at the Kinshasa residence of Tshisekedi’s close ally, Vital Kamerhe, a federal legislator and a candidate for Speaker of the National Assembly of Congo. His guards killed some of the attackers, officials said.

Christian Malanga, meanwhile, was live-streaming video from the presidential palace in which he is seen surrounded by several armed men in military uniforms wandering around in the middle of the night. He was later killed while resisting arrest, Congolese authorities said.

Dozens, including Malanga’s son and two other Americans, were arrested and brought to a high-security military prison in Kinshasa. Family members said the young men have been sleeping on the floor, struggling with health issues and have had to pay for food and hygiene products.

Christian Malanga, the unlikely coup leader

Malanga, who was born in Kinshasa, had described himself as a refugee who thrived after settling in the U.S. with his family in the 1990s. He said he became a leader of a Congolese opposition political party and met high-level officials in Washington and the Vatican. He also described himself as a devoted husband and father of eight.

Court records and interviews paint another picture. In 2001, the year he turned 18, Malanga was convicted in Utah of assault with a firearm, which resulted in a 30-day jail sentence and three years of probation. That same year, he was charged with domestic violence assault in one incident and battery and disturbing the peace in another, but he pleaded not guilty and all counts in both cases were dismissed.

In 2004, he was charged with domestic violence with threat of using a dangerous weapon, but he pleaded not guilty and the charges were again dismissed. Since 2004, records show several cases related to a custody dispute and a child support dispute.

How 3 young Americans got involved in a coup attempt

The three imprisoned Americans are Malanga’s 21-year-old son Marcel Malanga, Tyler Thompson Jr., 21, who flew to Africa from Utah with the younger Malanga for what his family believed was a free vacation, and Benjamin Reuben Zalman-Polun, 36, who is reported to have known Christian Malanga through a gold mining company.

Marcel Malanga is a U.S. citizen and was born in Utah. He told the court his father had threatened to kill him and Thompson if they did not take part in the attack.

His mother, Brittney Sawyer, has said her son is innocent and was simply following his father, who considered himself president of a shadow government in exile.

Thompson was his high school friend and football teammate in the Salt Lake City suburb of West Jordan. He was the only former teammate to accept Marcel Malanga’s invitation to travel to Congo, according to several other players who told The Associated Press they had been invited to what the younger Malanga pitched interchangeably as a family vacation or as a service trip to build wells. Other teammates alleged that Marcel Malanga had offered up to $100,000 to join him on a “security job” in Congo.

Read more

I had a 15 year old girl who had been dating a 17 year old male. She dropped the 17 year old male and started dating a 21 year old male. The 17 year old male got upset, one night when they were all at a campfire. He goes home, gets a 12 gauge shotgun, lays and waits in ambush for new dating pair of the 21 year old and 15 year old.

When the new dating pair approach him, the 17 year old male stands up, almost at point blank range and shoots the 21 year old male in the chest with a load of buckshot. The 17 year old then blasts the 15 year old girl in the rear with a load of what we call “dust.” Dust is basically really, really small particles of lead that’s more like graphite dust than a real load of buckshot or anything potent. The girl screams and hobbles home crying and yelling all the way. The 17 year old kid follows behind her professing his love for her and how “they can work it out.”

She gets home crying and screaming in pain. I get the call, head to the scene. As I get real close I see a bright flash near where I think that the house is. Sure enough, when I get there I find the 17 year old male dead in the driveway because he shot himself with the shotgun.

The end result was 2 dead males, one 17 years old and one 21 years old. One badly wounded 15 year old girl. That shooting started about midnight. We didn’t finish the complete investigation until way into the next day. That investigation involved 3 police agencies, dozens of officers and all sorts of lab people for well over 14 hour investigation period.

The girl eventually recovered, got married and went on to have a normal life and couple of children. That was one of the felony cases that was brought up when I was awarded “Deputy of the Year” by my fellow officers late on in my career.

That’s either wrong framing, or poor choice of words.

China will not invade Japan, because it is a sovereign neighbor. China has 14 land neighbors and the 12 which have fixed borders by treaty with China are not militarily threatened. The exception is India, but its proxy Bhutan has its eyes fixed on the south when it comes to threats.

A Chinese “invasion” of taiwan is the unspoken thrust of the question. But the last time I checked, both Japan and the united states maintain embassies in Beijing, and not Taipei. Both publicly accept the terms of bilateral diplomacy, which is the practice of ONE CHINA. they are both welcome to join eswatini and Haiti on the Taipei side, but they choose not to. Why?

As we have seen in the past few years, not a single American or Japanese military vessel came to the aid of taiwan as the mainland enacted massive show of force repeatedly. The chinese have established there is no “Taiwanese adiz” and “Taiwan strait centerline”, hence no “Taiwanese waters”. In other words, going beyond ONE CHINA to the exercise of sovereignty.

There will be war over Taiwan, but not war with Taiwan. Other than Guatemala, Haiti, Paraguay and several others, the rest of the 180+ UN members will have to break their bilateral diplomatic commitment to China, a p5 member, to come to Taiwan’s aid.

The United States can certainly force the issue, but they better come up with a realistic war plan, and practise the hell out of it.

Because that’s what the Chinese are doing.

The Chinese are not Palestinians, and China is not the Gaza strip. They are not goat herders living in caves either.

If Japan gets involved, there will be hell to pay.

Imagine German troops in the Gaza strip, guns pointed at the Jewish “enemy”, only a hundred times worse.

SHE LOVES IT!| FIRST TIME HEARING Lobo – Me And You And A Dog Named Boo REACTION

Kendall Defoe

Nobody can hear you screw up, or so they say…Major Culpham had that thought in his head as he prepared for the day. He looked through the viewfinder and studied the material captured. All the scanning of the previous day was uneventful and he felt that he should just get this out of the way early to complete his other duties. And yet…he felt an urge to go back once more and review what he saw…and heard.Noises from afar…At any other moment, he might have laughed about it and moved on with his work. Any child knew the basics of space travel: no atmosphere, no way to conduct sound, therefore… All the movies and television shows they had watched as children were lies. Explosions in space might be colorful, but they would also be very silent. Space was quiet, peaceful, and sometimes even quite dull. You did not get to hear it.But he had heard it.Fifteen days into the mission and it came up during routine repairs at a station the ship detected on its scopes. They had been set up for the Amber Wave as it made progress beyond the main station. It was the most popular ship in the fleet, commissioned by the brightest and boldest minds of the galaxy over many decades. And, if the major was totally honest – he often was when having a moment to himself – he should have had a lesser vehicle while this one became the retirement gift to some general or lesser figure who gave a lifetime of fair (?) and honest service (did such a creature really exist?).But no, they had to give it to the major. He was a real hero with the war record, medals, private charities established in his name, and discoveries made in difficult and strange places. The Council agreed to let him have this mission. He was the right man of the right age with all of the right attributes needed for a journey through space where the chances of encountering another human were very low (even the repair stations sent out before hand were all automated). No one else could have taken such a trip for such a length of time without a crew (his psychological, emotional and synaptic studies proved this). Food and supplies were stored at the repair stops and on board (no worries about shortages or rationing when he saw the cargo hold; it was a fear they did not detect during the testing). He was the right choice.And then he heard it.It was in the middle of his second analysis of the ship (no real problems were detected). Culpham had been walking through the processing booth, waiting for the results when it was loud and clear: 

“HELP!”

 

The major was a war veteran. He had heard the desperate screams of civilians and soldiers in battle. He knew what a cry for help was supposed to sound like. But he had never heard anything like that one simple word used and spoken in such a manner.

 

It was not just spoken. He could feel it project through his uniform, down his spine, up his legs, and into his mind. It invaded his body and would not settle down.

 

Maybe it was part of the test… After all those weeks on his own, it was possible that they wanted to run one more probe to see how he was running a mission all by himself. There was the chance that he could be monitored that way and have the information shipped back home (would the Council do that?). The ship’s diagnostic concluded with nothing more than the recognition of a possible short on the light deck (easy to handle; he had suspected it could be a problem), but nothing else was detected.

 

Not a single sound.

 

Maybe he should monitor his own profile. They encouraged this from time to time in battle (some of his soldiers had been taken away when the reports were filed and analyzed). Culpham sat in the main holochair and let the probe run itself (only twenty minute out of his day):

 

“No problems located or detected with subject. All scans match with the expected results of initial settings. Subject is normal.”

 

Every time the major saw this, he still felt uncomfortable. It was him, in the third person, with the screen indicating blood pressure, heart rate, sugar levels, salt levels, psychological disparities, weight, vision level, and on and on…

 

Not a thing out of line.

 

Maybe he really did imagine it all. He turned to look at another screen where he could entertain himself with an entire culture’s history of movies, television, other audio-visual and three-dimensional art. Culpham thought that a comedy would be best (how did they manage without the skill and talent of Peter Sellers before the Pink Panther series became a hit?). A simple oral command would get this started.

 

“Seek movie.”

 

The screen lit up and expanded into the empty holospace.

 

“Comedy.”

 

A list flashed before him. He would just have to name it.

 

“The Pink…”

 

And the screen flickered for a moment, and disappeared.

 

Now, Major Culpham was told that anything could happen on such a journey. The training included emergency measures to deal with such technological problems. He did not worry about this. Another diagnostic and this would be…

 

The screen reappeared.

 

There was only one word on it:

 

HELP!

 

Major Culpham stared at it for a moment, adjusting his visors to take in a non-three-dimensional image.

 

And then it disappeared.

 

Anger was beginning to occupy his thoughts. If the computer could not detect this, and he was just analyzed and found to be sane (at least, that was how he read it), then this was actually happening to him and the Amber Wave. This was very real.

 

And he could use the technology around him to find out what was happening.

 

Major Culpham entered new information into the machine and smiled.

 

He was going to enjoy this trip.

 

*

 

From the reading on the sensors, the message – if it was a message – was coming to him from a region that no one else had scanned before; not even with a random probe. Culpham, sitting back in his chair, smiled and thought about all of the potential promotions and praise he might receive for this. A completely unknown sector…

 

He watched as nebulae, stars, planets and entire galaxies flitted by. It would be out of his projected route, but he knew that the risks involved would be worth it, even if it turned out to be nothing.

 

“Help!”

 

It was not even shocking that time.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya. I can’t help but hear ya.”

 

Culpham had made sure that the monitors were not connected with the base unit or a Council feed. To have them know that he was now talking to himself would have guaranteed that his mission would be scrapped and the flight rerouted home. He did wonder how they would do that with such a trip, but took no chances with it. There was even concern about how a man could be alone for such a long time and just interact with computer technology. Culpham settled this with his diagnostics and his obvious ease with the interactive programs on board. So, no talking to an empty void…

 

If it was empty…

 

A light began to flicker on the holoscreen to his left. This is what he had been waiting for and he smiled again while sipping a food concentrate. If that indicator was functioning properly, he was within one parsec of that message. There were no other stations for repairs or analysis, so he knew that he would have to be careful with this trip. Culpham did notice that the number of planets and debris in this area was very low. Maybe it was too low.

 

Was he moving through pitch blackness?

 

It felt as though the entire galaxy in front of him had turned into ink (a substance he had heard of once, although he doubted it still existed). There was no effect on the Amber Wave’s momentum and all the instruments were functioning properly, but it was a very chilling moment for the major. Culpham preferred the usual distractions of space travel to this great and ugly nothingness.

 

“Help!”

 

“Help yourself! I’m comin’…”

 

Maybe he was beginning to understand why he was receiving that message. The voice was definitely male (no audio adjustments were performed on that voice; the recording he managed to create had no aberrations); it was certainly in distress; it was in this area.

 

But where in this area?

 

The light began to flicker much faster, sending out a strobe effect of redness around the enclosed cabin. Culpham knew that he was near.

 

“Help?”

 

A slight change in tone with that one, wasn’t it? It was now asking a question. Culpham wondered why he had not really tried to engage it in conversation before making this detour.

 

It seemed to be asking him for a chat.

 

The light stopped flickering. It was now a solid red glow.

 

Culpham examined the co-ordinates and looked out the main view-screen.

 

No, no, this cannot be it. This cannot be it.

 

The co-ordinates were on the monitor. It was 00.000.000.

 

That was impossible. The number was an impossibility and the space he was in should not have been there.

 

But here he was and the ship had all the data needed to confirm it.

 

“Help…”

 

“Yeah, help. Don’t we all want some now…am I right?” Culpham was not sure he should smile now.

 

Now, one of the good things about the mission was the amount of equipment provided for a passenger on the Amber Wave. He had flight suits, travel suits, prepackaged food, weaponry…and the one thing he might need to solve this particular mystery: The Ro\Bon Suit.

 

The name was a mistake. The designers of that suit wanted to combine the words “Robot” with “Bond” to show how well any human could work with the suit. It would provide a level of flexibility to the wearer “unlike anything that the Council ever prepared or developed before” (a nice little advert for it, Culpham thought). The backslash in the name bothered him, but he did not think much of it, until he learned that someone had been very sloppy and let their finger slip when preparing to display the newest innovation of the week. No one else thought about it, but the major wondered about it. A slip of the finger…

 

“Help.”

 

If this really was where the yell was coming from, and all of the readings were correct, he would have to step out of the Amber Wave and walk through…that.

 

Not a single star or particle of matter or anything nearby.

 

Culpham felt a little odd about this.

 

The protocol clearly stated that he had to examine and study any phenomena encountered on the journey and keep a record of them. He was also still a military man. Culpham could not let himself be terrified by a cry for help; a cry that seemed to be for him only.

 

What could really happen to him?

 

He prepared for the walk outside.

 

*

 

At first, he thought that it was a mistake to not be tethered to the ship. Culpham had adjusted the suit to his measurements, and he found that it was even easier to use that the equipment on the ship. But there was still a worry that he might drift away to far from the Amber Wave and not be able to continue the trip; just another piece of debris stuck in space.

 

But no, that would not be a problem.

 

First, he could rest his feet on that inky blackness.

 

Second, he could hear the cry in his suit and detect where it was coming from.

 

And finally, he was beginning to recognize the voice.

 

It should have disturbed him, but at this point there was nothing that would have stopped him from heading into the void.

 

It was his own voice.

 

“Help…”

 

“Yeah, I am going to do just that…”

 

He began to move over the surface. It reminded Culpham of the rides back home that he enjoyed at birthdays and public fairs. He tried to hop on the blackness and found that there was a bit of bounce (no silliness while being monitored). Maybe he would enjoy it more on the journey back…

 

“HELP!”

 

Major Culpham, seasoned veteran, chosen pilot for the Amber Wave, talented and skilled soldier, almost soiled the Ro\Bon Suit.

 

He was standing right in front of himself.

 

A quick psychological profile made by the suit indicated that it really was him: same age, height, blood type, physical ailments, hair and eye color. It even had the same outfit (he had to keep calling it an “It”). What was different was the face.

 

Fear…that was pure fear.

 

Culpham knew why he was here and he had to get away.

 

“Wait. Please. I know what you are thinking: I called you and want to trap you here.”

 

“Well, yeah. That was what I was thinkin’. Seems like the sensible thing based on all the readings…”

 

“There is so much more to tell you. You have so much to learn.”

 

“Okay, teach me.”

 

*

 

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space? That was a damn lie. The figure had a story and Culpham had a duty. It would be best to let them talk in private as the Amber Wave awaited one of them to return and continue its travels. The journey was not yet over.

Prof Steve Hanke: This Is So SERIOUS, People Should Be Preparing NOW!

“I don’t love your company and I don’t care about it that much.”

I had gone to an interview after being head hunted. It was rather long process and at the fourth interview or so, I was meeting one of the founders, a tough lady in her 60s.

The basis of her initially rushed interview was why I wanted to work for the company and how much I loved it and cared for it because she likes “people who are passionate about the company because they will give it their all.”

I told her I care a lot to come for 4 in-person interviews on a rather long commute. But in reality, “I don’t love your company and I don’t care about it that much because I don’t know enough about you guys to love you. I have never even bought from you. I’m here because I like the job description and it looks like a role I can be successful in. I care about the job, and my focus here is not even the following you had mentioned (she had said she wanted her company pages to have hundreds of thousands of followers – it was a Digital Marketing Manager position). I was once an accountant and my biggest premise as a marketer is not vain metrics like followers and like, it’s how much my department contributes to the business and the ROI on marketing spend.”

That stopped her. She told the HR Manager who was on attendance that she wanted me the role because I was as “frank” as my name, and that I knew about “ROI”.

I got it, and I excelled in it. Grew bottomline contribution from Digital from around 2% of the business to 40%.

Cream Cheese Chicken Casserole

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2a5b7b9724b7b4326df9d6580e56991a

Ingredients

  • 6 chicken breasts
  • 2 (10 ounce) packages frozen broccoli or 1 bunch fresh broccoli
  • 2 cups milk
  • 2 (8 ounce) package cream cheese
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 3/4 cup parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook the chicken, then slice or break it into bite size pieces.
  2. Cook broccoli in salted water. Place the broccoli in a 13 x 9 x 2 inch greased casserole.
  3. Heat the milk, cream cheese, salt, garlic powder and Parmesan cheese over low heat, stirring until the mixture is smooth. Pour 1 cup of sauce over the broccoli.
  4. Add the chicken to the pan and pour remaining sauce over it. Sprinkle the top with 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 25 to 30 minutes. Watch the sauce while baking as it can get too hot and burn on top.

This happened to a transsexual friend.

She was on her way to visit a client in Paris, late at night, dressed in her “professional” uniform of very short miniskirt, high heels, fishnet tights, crop top… you get the picture. The address was (say) 235 Avenue Charles de Gaulle, Paris 12. She drove all down the avenue but couldn’t find the address, so she turned round and drove slowly back. Still no luck, so she did another U-turn and crawled along, peering at every house. A police car waved her down.

Cop 1: Would you please get out of the car.

She: What, dressed like this? You’ll arrest me for indecency.

Cop 1 looks at her legs.: I see your point. So why are you kerb-crawling?

She explains.

Cop 1: There is no 235 Avenue de Gaulle. Wait a minute. This is Paris 13. You’re the wrong side of the river. There’s probably an Avenue de Gaulle in every district of Paris.

She: So how do I get there?

Cop 1: Just turn left here… Oh, no, that’s a one-way street. Go down to the next big intersection and… no, that’s a no left turn. Hey, Henri, how do you get across the river?

Cop 2: Turn left. Oh, no, that’s a one-way street. What if you…

This went on for a minute or two. Finally:

Cop 1: Look, just turn left into the one way street, or we’ll be here all night.

She: No way, you’ll arrest me.

Cop 1: Oh, follow me, dammit!

And that’s how a patrol car, lights flashing, escorted a prostitute down a one-way street to her next appointment. Only in France…

Guitar Player Reacts To Robin Trower – Day of The Eagle

I am not a flight attendant, but this seems an appropriate answer. I was flying on United in first class for business. I boarded first, or so I thought, and took my aisle seat, next to a very young woman, 22 to 25, in the window seat. It was clear she was a burn victim. Very disfigured. But poised and well dressed. She was heading to a conference for burn victims. Her dad had booked her in first class, and I presume because he did not want her bullied. As the plane boarded, I could not believe the awful stares AND COMMENTS, from the people boarding for coach. Everyone in first was kind, all of three flight attendants were kind. The coach passengers were the worst. Horrid people. So 15 minutes into the flight, the flight attendant asks my seat mate would she like a drink and my seatmate turns to me and asks if they are free. The flight attendant says yes sweetie they are. We had a lovely flight. That was when they phones on the plane. I showed this girl how to use it (I paid for it) and she called her dad. She told him how wonderful the flight attendants were and how great the lady (I was probably 32) next to her was. I was so proud of the flight attendants in first class. They did not allow any of the gawker to come from coach to use the restroom to stare at her. It made me sad that this young girl who suffered so horrifically was subjected to such prejudice but the UAL Flight attendants on that flight were awesome.

They have problems YES

However the thing to remember is China is intentionally facing short term pain for long term gains

Today China has grown so fast that it can afford to cool off for a decade and manage to STILL grow on the strength of it’s manufacturing alone at 4% to 5% a year

In this time China plans to

  • Achieve Technological Independence
  • Restructure the Demographic Problems
  • Subside the Real Estate Bubble
  • Raise Consumption back to 2019 levels

I. Achieve Technological Independence

The Chinese plan to achieve full Independence in five key areas :-

A. Optics

B. Semiconductor Fabrication

C. Advanced Pharmaceuticals

D. Commercial Jet Engines

E. Quantum Computing & Communications

(AI is not a key area. It’s a part of every area)

China has invested and plans to invest $ 450 Billion combined in these areas including $ 142 Billion in Semiconductor Fabrication

Currently their target is 2030 to achieve Independence in Semiconductor Fabrication and 2035 for the rest


II. Demographic Problem

China recently voted on raising the retirement age from 50 to 55 for Blue Collar Women, 55 to 60 for White Collar Women, 58 to 63 for Blue Collar Men and 60 to 65 for White Collar Men

That changes their demographics completely

They need 1.17 Trillion RMB or $ 150 Billion of Pension Funding which is CHICKEN FEED for them

In exchange they ensure they don’t go below the 2.5 Able Bodied youngsters supporting one Old man until minimum 2070

They have just got themselves another 30 years at least


III. Subside the Real Estate Bubble

They have successfully driven out every Speculator from the market

Now the market is only for BUYERS

The key is to inspire confidence in real estate and make delivery on time

Hence why they encouraged funding of 5000+ Projects to the tune of a Trillion RMB

That’s 1.8–2.2 Million Units to be delivered by 2025/26

They will absorb all the losses through their SHADOW BANKING and ultimately drop maybe $ 100 Billion by 2027 and end up with a vibrant real estate market again and never a speculative one anymore

Instead of $ 1 Trillion, they will get away with maybe $ 250 Billion

Shanghai sold 25,000 Homes in August for the first time since 2019

main qimg 6ed424948209dcc20c62acca5ac963aa
main qimg 6ed424948209dcc20c62acca5ac963aa


IV. Raise Consumption

This means slow and steady work

Chinese have become careful spenders now

Their spending on Tourism and Electronics and Dining Out have risen from the 2019 levels

However their spending on Luxury Goods have fallen by 57% since 2019

They aren’t spending too much on down payment for homes either

The Government needs policies to get there and they are working on it


Will the Tariffs hurt?

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main qimg b8c5000c595d19b13599f899b64552ca

Not Really

As you can see almost 51% of China’s Exports to US are Mid Range Goods like Textiles, Low to Mid End Electronics, Shoes, Toys, Stationery that are sold in Walmart

They are not subject to any tariffs

Only 7% are High Value Goods of which Cranes and Drones form a big part and even with Tariffs they will be cheaper than other substitutes

Same in Europe where 64% Exports are not subjected to High Tariffs of any kind

Only 15.33% exports are High Value and of these Solar and Wind technology is cheaper even with Tariffs

Only in ASEAN,Middle East, Africa , Russia and Brazil does China export mostly HIGH VALUE GOODS

Here there is no tariff wall

So China is OK even with Tariffs


I feel China is the only Country living in a Reality and analysing it’s problems

Others like US or India are living in an Illusion of Inflated Stock Markets and Insane levels of speculation for short term gains


So in Medical Jargon

If China is on Ventilator, it is busy building up the immune system and will be able to fling the ventilator and get back to full health as it is taking medicines and doing everything properly

The United States is having Terminal Cancer yet they are taking Morphine and having delusions

India is having Pneumonia but they are ignoring the symptoms and planning to run marathons with 30% Lung capacity

Two years ago when I was 14 years of age, I was coming back from school and as I entered my building I noticed this small, elderly Arab woman trying to lift about 17 shopping bags. I was absolutely flabbergasted that there was nobody around helping this poor woman. We have security and a few bellboys in the building but nobody was here for this woman. So I, asked her in Arabic if I could help her. This poor woman looked up at me with a happy sparkle in her eye and she said thank you. I picked up all of her bags and took them into the elevator and helped her carry her bags into her house and into her kitchen. I was a bit upset because her grand kids (about my age at the time) were playing video games instead of helping their frail grandmother. As I was leaving her house the woman hugged me, offered a piece of baklawa (Arabic dessert) and to my surprise offered me a 100AED bill. I kindly refused the lady but she persisted. I told the lady that I see her as my grandmother and she can offer me her blessings instead. We hugged one last time and I left to my house. My parents were a bit confused as to why I was late. I told them everything. My parents embraced me and patted me on the back. A few weeks later the lady invited us over to her house for iftar (feast held during Ramadan after a long day of fasting)
So the best thing that came out of all of this was a new, everlasting friendship which in my opinion is the greatest thing that matters.

Be the Rufus. -MM

Nurse Dies During Aneurysm; Shown The Secrets To Existence During NDE

One greedy person can make life Hell for the rest of us

I was stuck in India for about a year without being able to leave.

When my wife was pregnant I went to the local Foreigner Regional Registration Office and was told that we should be fine overstaying our visas by a few weeks (to allow her more rest after labor) if I brought in a note from the doctor and the birth certificate.

She gave birth, and I did what they said.

“Okay. Now you must wait,” they said. Fair enough.

I called every week but every time was told that the permits we would need in order to leave were not ready.

In the meantime I cancelled our non-refundable AirAsia flight.

After a couple of months, it was clear that we were not going to get our permits to leave anytime soon.

“Your case had been forwarded to the central government in Delhi,” I was told by the office. “We can’t do anything for you.”

“Oh… Then what do I do now? Who can I talk to?”

“You can’t talk to them. You have to wait…”

Wow.

And so we lived in a state of limbo and uncertainty for many months, moving from house to house with a small baby because we didn’t know when we would leave.

Our families were worried. It was horrible. I got in touch with the US embassy but that didn’t help.

Finally, a friend introduced me to a friend of his, a man who worked for the government. He pulled some strings, and after a couple of weeks we had our exit permits.

I cannot describe the relief I felt. It’s like being in a place you love, but being trapped there. The place becomes a prison, and you don’t know when you’ll be able to leave. And there’s no sentence which tells you how long your imprisonment will last. You just have to wait. In my case, it was a year. Twelve months.

I thanked the man a gazillion times, and soon we were out of India. Phew.

China’s Diplomacy, Geopolitics, Defense

By the great Godfree Roberts

Diplomacy

“China’s overall strategy is not to collide head-on but to maintain strategic composure and, by continuously enhance its strength, exhaust the opponent’s power, thereby increasing its comprehensive control over the USA… This comprehensive control is not merely the combined use of control over land, air, sea, space, and cyberspace in traditional warfare but a competition for comprehensive dominance in areas like trade, industrial technology, finance, and cognitive warfare in an ‘unrestricted total war’ (无边界总体战)… China’s strategic thinking differs from the West, not resembling the confrontational approach of chess but the long-term game of Go—in which strategic advantage is built over time through a dynamic balance of power.”

Australian Ambassador Ross Garnaut: “America would be damaged by war with China over the status of Taiwan, but, short of a major nuclear exchange debilitating both great powers, its sovereignty would not be at risk. Australia’s would be. Indeed, I doubt that Australia could survive as a sovereign entity the isolation from most of Asia that would be likely to follow anything other than a decisive and quick US victory in a war in which our military was engaged”.

The National Endowment for Democracy: What It Is and What It Does. The Foreign Ministry says the NED acts as the U.S. government’s “white gloves,” subverting state power, meddling in other countries’ internal affairs, inciting division and confrontation, misleading public opinion, and conducting ideological infiltration—all under the guise of promoting democracy.

The Zimbabwe president visiting BYD Headquarters and realized that heads of African states are in China for the 9th FOCAC (Forum on China–Africa Cooperation). I spent a long time looking at the current state of China & Africa Cooperation. Let’s take a look at what I found.

NED has long colluded with anti-China forces, including Jimmy Lai. In 2020, the NED set up multiple projects related to Hong Kong in its funding list, totalling more than $310,000, to provide support for the Hong Kong rioters. In 2023, the NED collaborated with the British NGO “Hong Kong Watch” and Amnesty International, as well as anti-China politicians in the U.S., U.K. and Germany, to nominate Jimmy Lai for the 2023 Nobel Peace Prize.

America is, geopolitically, trying to punch China at one end of the bar, and getting punched 30 times before it can get there. Their military is too weak to take the field in Russia, their Navy is too weak to beat Yemen and their Air Force can only bomb innocents and misses the heroes of Hamas entirely. America is an old drunk brawler, covered in blood and piss and just embarrassing itself. Its current military strategy makes as much sense as Scarface’s home security. Scarface died so coked up that his body kept firing. That’s America right now, braindead and running on pure muscle memory.

An NHK (Japan’s national broadcaster) announcer told his audience, “The Diaoyu Islands and their affiliated islands have been Chinese territory since ancient times. I protest NHK’s historical revisionism and unprofessional work behavior.” He continued in English:”Don’t forget the Nanjing Massacre, don’t forget the comfort women, they were sex slaves during the war. Don’t forget Unit 731.”   NHK fired the Chinese employee of 22 years and threatened him with criminal charges.

Geopolitics

The largest tanker ever on Russia’s Northern Sea Route, the 164,565 dwt Prisma, carrying a million barrels of oil, departed from the Baltic port of Ust-Luga on August 10 and will reach Tianjin in 35 days–compared to 45 days for the Suez Canal and 55 days via the Cape of Africa.

Constructing the new Funan Techo Canal, Cambodia: 10 km completed by 17th. day. The Chinese contractor sent 2,500 large machines to work day and night. The US took 10yrs to build the Panama Canal, which opened in 1914, and which is 100km shorter than the Techo Canal. The Techo Canal is estimated to cost $1.7B. The Panama Canal cost $8.6B in 2024 dollars.

The recent, abortive color revolution in Thailand coincides with the stunning success of the hastily staged color revolution in Bangladesh and the fall of the Myanmar army’s Northeast Command in Lashio to the MNDAA. American and British “volunteers” have been fighting the Myanmar military though Myanmar has not experienced seen a wave of international volunteers like Ukraine or Syria.

In the past six years, 250 US scientists – most of Asian descent – have been identified as having failed to disclose overlapping funding or research in China, or having broken other rules. There were only two indictments and three convictions as legal outcomes of those investigations, yet 112 scientists lost their jobs as a result.

Türkiye has formally applied to join BRICS. Türkiye seeks to enhance its global influence and establish new alliances beyond its traditional Western partners, according to Bloomberg BRICS members: Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa, UAE, Iran, Egypt and Ethiopia.

China has party secretaries aboard oceangoing vessels. This report focuses on the ship political commissar, a Party representative assigned to oceangoing merchant ships, particularly within state-owned shipping enterprises, to carry out political and administrative work in the management of ship crews.

Serbia should pick BRICS over Brussels, Deputy Prime Minister Aleksandar Vulin has said in an interview with Russian media. The largest republic of the former Yugoslavia applied for EU membership in 2009 and has been a candidate since 2012, but the bloc has recently demanded recognition of the breakaway province of Kosovo as a condition for membership. “BRICS does not ask anything of Serbia and offers more than we could want. The EU asks of us everything, and I’m no longer sure what it has to offer. We see BRICS as an opportunity and an alternative. Serbia is very closely investigating all the possibilities presented by BRICS and closer cooperation with its member states.” According to Vulin, Serbia is expecting an official invitation to the BRICS October summit in Kazan, Russia.

The footprints of the two global economic power blocs were roughly equal in 2020. China and its BRICS allies are increasingly the world economy’s richest bloc. Nothing prepared the populations of Western capitalism for this changed reality or its effects. Especially the sections of those populations already forced to absorb the costly burdens of Western capitalism’s decline feel betrayed, abandoned, and angry. The wars in Ukraine and Gaza testify to that denial and exemplify the costly strategic mistakes it produces.

The battleground won’t be in the Global South, where the US has very much lost to China, especially in Africa and Latin America. It won’t be in the Indo-Pacific either, where few countries want to take sides. It will be in Europe, where the US has most of its allies and where China is the largest trading partner. Even if America’s decline is gradual, it cannot afford a global military presence.That Europe takes China as a partner, competitor and systemic rival at the same time says more about Europe’s confusion about China than what China really is.

Defense

China launches its first nuclear-powered guided missile submarine, the Type 093B, …

I was an Office Manager for a collision repair center for a few years. We had a Mitsubishi Montero towed in from a bad accident that sat over a hot weekend.

The smell was awful. The spare tire was missing from the back. Pieces of teeth, tissue and bone were stuck on it. Lots of flies. The car had a suitcase, computer and other property in it.

We were told by the insurance agent that the car belonged to a long time customer who fell in love with a girl in the Philippines right out of school. He could not afford to bring her with him when he moved to California. He worked two jobs for a few years and saved money to bring her to the state to marry her.

He picked her up from the airport. She was excited! Never been to California before. They blew a tire on the freeway. She was pacing behind him on her cell phone talking to his sister. He removed the spare from the back of the car and was on his knees taking it off when a drunk driver going 65 mph hit them.

The drunk drivers car had struck her, pushed her into him and smashed his head near the spare tire holder on the back of the car. He died instantly. Pieces of his skull, jaw bone & teeth were pressed into the vehicle. She however was still alive and on the phone. She remained alive for a long time while rescue efforts continued. She died when the other drivers car was removed.

Her luggage was in the car. Her parents where flying out to collect her things. The receptionist and I had to remove her things and make a list for them. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

This Sea Is the Most Mysterious in the World

You never put down your gun.

That is Hollywood nonsense. If someone is holding a hostage, cops never surrender their weapon. Doing so turns the cop or whomever is responding into just another victim. You can read numerous answers by real cops to the effect here.

Would the police drop their weapons if someone is held at gunpoint?

Now me personally? Oh fuck no.

Him: Drop the gun or she’s dead!

Me: Son, you catastrophically misunderstand the situation you’ve put yourself in. Right now, she’s the only thing keeping you alive. There is no way in heaven or hell I’m putting my gun down, and if you hurt her I will kill you. No ifs ands or buts. I’m sure the coroner will explain to the judge how you tripped and fell face-first onto a pile of .45ACP bullets. Put the knife down, and you may just survive this.

Now, I can reliably hit a clay pigeon out to 25 yards. If we’re within that distance, I don’t need to get closer to shoot him in the face. Farther out…yeah, I’m less sure of that shot. Unless I have a rifle.

Bottom line, you never ever put your gun down. That’s just a good way to get both of you murdered. Make sure the bad guy understands he’s in a might-die/will-die situation. If he leaves her be, he might die. He might get arrested. He might escape. But if he hurts her, he will die.

Interesting

Don’t know if this was posted here previously, from “Globalism is Economic Slavery” on one of those websites b doesn’t like too much because their articles generate endless controversy. Its the life the West looks forward to.

He has never owned anything. He rents his bedroom, his furnishings, and his meager entertainments. Each month, a digital account associated with his digital ID receives a number of central bank digital currency units. How much he receives depends upon the number of hours he works at his government job, how much the government values his work, how much the government taxes him for the privilege of using public infrastructure, and how much of his income the government decides should be redistributed to other citizens in need. After taxes, rents, utilities, and other assorted municipal, state, federal, and international fees are deducted from his earnings, he has little — if any — discretionary income.




If he chooses to save that income to invest in his future, the government informs him that his central bank digital currency units disappear within ninety days. If he tries to purchase something that the government has banned, he forfeits what he currently has. If he does something that the government deems contrary to his well-being, his social credit score decreases, and a fraction of his discretionary income disappears. Every few weeks, a digital doctor (running on artificial intelligence) appears on the video screen in his apartment with a detailed list of all the “unhealthy” things he has done since their last interaction. He is informed that a portion of his temporary savings will be redistributed to citizens with healthier habits. His A.I. health monitor tells him that he must immediately report to the closest pharmaceutical distribution center so that he can be injected with the latest “vaccines.” Failure to do so will result in the deactivation of all electronic entertainment devices and a permanent mark on his social credit record.

He is unhappy, and because the State’s A.I. supervisor has detected his unhappiness, the display monitor in his apartment encourages him to find personal meaning by “joining the fight against global warming.” For a while, he does just that. He attends community meetings in his apartment building where government officials talk about the importance of “saving the planet” by “owning nothing.” He chats with anonymous strangers (bots?) on the State’s social media platform, and they all agree that the sacrifices they’re making to save the world are definitely worth it. He wakes up one morning to discover that his social credit score has risen and that he has been rewarded with a few extra central bank digital currency units. Still, our future man remains unhappy.

Then one day sirens blare, and his apartment monitor flashes with breaking news: the country is at war. He listens intently but can’t figure out which foreign nations are attacking. The trusted news anchors tell him that peace, prosperity, and freedom are all at risk. He steps outside his tiny apartment to find other solitary renters fired up and talking excitedly about the battles to come. He walks back inside to find his A.I. supervisor informing him that he has been personally selected to protect the homeland from its enemies. For the first time in many years, our future man feels alive.

He soon finds himself in boot camp, where he enjoys regular exercise, discipline, and camaraderie. Six months later, he and his new friends are shipped overseas. Strangely, in all this time, nobody has explained whom they will actually be fighting. All he knows is that they’re at war with “the authoritarians” who wish to “take our democracy.” There is anticipation in his camp and endless talk of adventure. Then, when everyone least expects it, a thunderous swarm of drones attacks from overhead. Nobody has time to react. Explosions seem to come from out of nowhere. He sees the bodies of his friends torn to pieces. Then everything goes dark.

He awakes in a hospital severely injured, is called a hero, and is later sent home. When he arrives, he notices breadlines outside the government’s genetically engineered food distribution centers. He hears a beggar on the street joke that they should call them “insect-lines,” since that’s all there is to eat. He learns that someone else has moved into his old apartment, but he is offered a new one because of his military service. It is smaller and has even fewer furnishings than the one he lost. He realizes that most of his former neighbors never returned from war and that many of the newcomers now living in their apartments look and sound like those people he was told to fight overseas. Nothing makes sense. His injuries torment him. He feels even more lost and lonely than before he went to war. His A.I. supervisor informs him that he has been added to a list of people considered “potential domestic terrorists.” Remaining on this list will make it hard for him to work and live.

Then, one day, his digital doctor asks if he would like some assistance in ending his life peacefully. “You can save others,” he is told, “by permanently reducing your carbon footprint.” In agony, he wonders, “How did we get here?”

 

Posted by: gT | Sep 4 2024 6:38 utc | 4

I witnessed a situation in the late ‘60’s while stationed at West Point New York, at the United States Military Academy, that hit this nail squarely on the head.

Two lowly butter bars ( recently commissioned 2nd Lts.) were called into the office of their CO of a combat engineer company that supported the cadet program there.

It seemed a family emergency necessitated the CO’s absence for a few days. That meant one of the Lt’s would assume command and this no pre-notice meeting was to announce the leave and change of command, and as it turned out, the reasons why.

The later arriving of the two Lt’s was a little older than his first arriving Lt. buddy. Other differences seemed to be life’s experiences, aggression, decision making initiative, civilian education and more.

The CO, thinking the differences, openly apparent to all, would cause problems when the lesser of the two was selected to take over, was the reason for the meet. He wanted to avoid any animus between the two Lt’s and any other problems that might cause in the company during his absence.

The CO, a brilliant man, was a West Point grad, a RVN vet of a harsh year, and held two graduate degrees. In other words, on the fast track for a career officer.

He explained, quite unnecessarily, that the later arriving Lt. would have been his choice to assume command but it was the other that was to have the position.

The date of rank (commission) was the determining factor in this instance and except for promotions was the usual order of things, where two, or more, of the same rank were in the picture.

He explained that the date of rank was the Army Protocol for determining seniority of two officers of the same rank. The two Lts. Looked at each other and broke into laughter. The two good friends could have cared less who was in the barrel for however long it was to take. Both were anxious to return to civilian life ASAP.

The Capt., also friendly with both in off duty time, joined in the amusement and just added. “I didn’t want to create any hard feelings!” It didn’t and I couldn’t have given a hoot less because my buddy Bill was designated the acting CO.

“No one is ready for what’s COMING this Fall” Gerald Celente warns

I had a professor who was from India and he had a superiority complex about being from India. He thought very little of Americans and never hesitated to tell students how they were inferior to people from India.

This professor would ask impossible three question tests. The questions would be something like, recite verbatim page 93 of your textbook without looking in the book.

After everyone would fail the test because passing was absolutely impossible for everyone, he would see each student individually ostensibly to discuss their grade.

He would make male students grovel and beg and he would sexually harass female students.

The first time this happened to me I told him he could just give me a minimum of a, “B” grade and he could pull his bullshit on the other students. If he did not agree with this, I told him I would make him regret that decision.

He did not agree so I went to the Dean of Students and explained the situation. T

he Dean of Students gave me the speech about college is about learning to get along with people and perhaps I had problems with the professor but other students did not.

I told the Dean he was wrong and I would prove it to him.

I requested the Dean to be in his office on Friday at 1:00 pm and he agreed. At the end of class, I got up and said, “Anyone who thinks this professor is an asshole, follow me and I will fix it.”

The entire class followed me to the Dean’s office.

The Dean was of course shocked and shocked to hear of the harassment of the students.

The Dean talked to the professor and assumed the matter was settled.

The next class the jackass professor immediately stated, “You ratted me out to the Dean, now I am going to fail everyone.”

I got up and told everyone in the class to get up and follow me to the Dean’s office (and they did).

That time he was threatened with immediate termination.

I went back and told the jackass, remember when I told you that you could just give me a minimum of a, “B” and play your games with the rest of the students?

Now I bet you wish you had.

Do not ever attempt to cross me. That put him in his place. He was later terminated for sexual harassment.

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The United States always lists some Chinese companies on the so-called “Entity List” on the grounds of suspected “forced labor of Uyghurs” and prohibits the import of their products.

Now, the sanctions list has expanded to more than 70 Chinese companies.

This number is not a simple statistic, but reflects a trend: the United States is using economic means to exert political pressure and trying to achieve its strategic goals by attacking Chinese companies.

But whether such an approach can really achieve the desired results is worth our deep consideration.

According to the United States, any goods related to Xinjiang may be considered as products of forced labor and therefore face sanctions.

However, the question is whether there is solid evidence to support this accusation, or is it a malicious frame-up for political purposes?

Xinjiang’s development achievements are obvious to all. The so-called “forced labor” and “genocide” are completely nonsense.

They are lies of the century fabricated by a very small number of anti-China elements. Their purpose is to mess up Xinjiang, discredit China, and curb China’s development.

It is obvious that this is the United States imposing illegal sanctions on Chinese companies under the guise of human rights.

The United States’ serious interference in China’s internal affairs, serious disruption of the normal market order, and serious violation of international trade rules and basic norms of international relations are essentially attempts to create “forced unemployment” in Xinjiang and infringe on the human rights of the vast number of people in Xinjiang in the name of human rights.

The Xinjiang companies sanctioned by the United States for so-called “forced labor” involve Xinjiang’s advantageous industries such as cotton and textiles and clothing, photovoltaic silicon-based, and tomato processing.

These industries play a very important role in promoting high-quality development, solving rural labor employment, and increasing farmers’ income.

You know, if a company’s exports are restricted, many downstream industries will not be able to obtain the necessary raw materials, and the normal operation of the entire industry will be impacted.

This is like a domino effect, one link after another, and in the end, it will not only be these companies that will suffer, but also tens of thousands of employees and families who depend on them for survival.

If the United States really cares about human rights, it should take measures to effectively solve domestic problems such as racial discrimination, gun violence, and drug abuse, rather than treating internal problems externally, interfering in other countries, and imposing sanctions indiscriminately.

Incest Cult Discovered in Backwoods of Australia | The Colt Clan

*’NEW HOTEL SCAM!!*

This is one of the smartest scams I have heard about.

You arrive at your hotel and check in at the front desk. Typically when checking in, you give the front desk your credit card (for any charges to your room) and they don’t retain the card.

You go to your room and settle in. All is good.

The hotel receives a call and the caller asks for (as an example) *room 620* – which happens to be your room.

The phone rings in your room. You answer and the person on the other end says the following:

*’This is the front desk. When checking in, we came across a problem with your charge card information.*

*Please re-read me your credit card numbers and verify the last 3 digits numbers at the reverse side of your charge card.’*

Not thinking anything wrong, since the call seems to come from the front desk you oblige. But actually, *it is a scam by someone calling from outside the hotel*. They have asked for a *random room number*, then *ask you for your credit card and address information.*

*They sound so professional, that you think you are talking to the front desk.*

If you ever encounter this scenario on your travels, *tell the caller that you will be down to the front desk to clear up any problems.*

Then, *go to the front desk or call directly and ask if there was a problem.*

If there was none, *inform the manager of the hotel that someone tried to scam you of your credit card information, acting like a front desk employee.*

This was sent by someone who has been duped……..

and is still cleaning up the mess.

Johnston Island. You can’t go there, at least not legally.

It’s about 800 miles SSW of Honolulu, making it roughly 3,000 miles SSW of San Diego.

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Good features:

Federal wildlife sanctuary. Birdshit EVERYWHERE. Great if you’re prospecting for birdshit.

No noisy neighbors. Except the birds.

Humans all gone now.

Clear-ass water 90 feet deep in the lagoon. Sharks can be seen, and guys used to catch (and sometimes eat) them.

Bad features:

Used to have a shitload of chemical (and probably biological) warheads stored there. All were incinerated in the 1990s and the incineration facility demolished.

Atomic weapons were launched from there in the early 1960s. Two test shots failed, including one that scattered PLUTONIUM all over the launchpad. They buried the waste, but it is still there. Do Not Visit ‘Mount Pluto,” which is where that stuff is buried.

No facilities. Airstrip decommissioned.

A sailboat sheltered in the atoll some years ago during a hurricane. Better than nothing, they said.

I visited there in 1991 as an Army Photojournalist. We repatriated our chemical munitions from West Germany and shipped them there for disposal. I covered the shipment and transfer story.

Short answer: exist.

Longer answer: China is rising rapidly to surpass the USA as the world’s dominant power. The USA cannot lose face.

Detailed answer: China’s rise will undermine US hegemony and thus take away its financial privileges to export away its inflation and punish other nations for not complying with its foreign policy.

The Strange DNA of the last mammoths

Everyone knows these facts.

  • Hypertension (high blood pressure) commonly cause headache.
  • Diabetes (high sugar) can be countered by taking bitter gourd.
  • Avoiding fatty food can surely reduce cholesterol.
  • Heart attack always cause left sided chest pain.
  • Pricking type of chest pain located at one point in the left chest may be heart attack.
  • An Echo test (heart scanning) can identify blocks in the heart.
  • Fruits are no no for a diabetic
  • Smoking just one cigarette is not very dangerous.
  • It is very rare for women to die of heart attack.

Unfortunately; all of the above are wrong.

It is very rare for people to get headache because of hypertension unless the BP is very severe (accelerated hypertension, hypertensive encephalopathy or a hypertensive stroke).

Diabetes results from low levels or ineffective Insulin in the body. Taking bitter gourd actually worsens blood sugar (it is complex carbohydrate).

60 % of serum cholesterol is synthesized in the Liver. So despite strict dieting people can still have very high cholesterol.

Heart attack pain can be anywhere from above the navel to below the jaw, it can radiate to shoulders or back or feel like ‘indigestion’. Despite the classic left chest, left arm pain, many often cardiac pain is atypical.

Pricking chest pain, localized to a point is almost always non-cardiac

An Echo test shows heart valves and heart muscles and cardiac contractility, it cannot identify a coronary block. Indirect evidence of block by way of heart muscle abnormality may be shown in echo.

Citrus fruits and bananas have low glycemic index and are recommended in diabetic diet

Even one cigarette smoking can cause transient narrowing of coronary artery and precipitate a block in a susceptible person (coronary spasm).

Chance of a women dying of an heart attack is more than breast and uterine cancer added together. It is of course less common than in men in menstrual age group.

Shorpy

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In 1997 My 44 yo wife died of cancer.

She had the best insurance money could buy.

While she was being treated, Chemo and radiation her renewal date came up and they cancelled her policy.

I lost everything I had worked for and decided to look elsewhere.

I got on a strangers sailboat and months later wound up in New Zealand from Seattle.

I have never entertained the idea of returning.

I have lived around the world and my eyes are wide open. Something that cannot happen by no travel.

I have found a lot of what Americans long for.

Lower taxes, totally freemedical for life, a safe country, no guns, no enemies and a most beautiful place tolive.

Not lacking in anything.

My town is 50% white and 50% Maoriand others.

no racial issues.

The quality of life is unsurpassed.

A govt that listens to it’s people. My only regret is not leaving 20 yrs earlier.

Comanche Women | More BRUTAL than the Men

A company where I worked in the ’80s and ’90s had a policy of organizing all the employees into teams. If someone wanted to change jobs within the company they had to get the approval of both the team they were leaving and the team they would be joining.

A woman who was well-known as an excellent worker wanted to move to another, better job within the company. Everyone expected that she would have no difficulty since she had such a good reputation. Her team got together to do an evaluation of her, and everyone gave her glowing recommendations. They said they would be sorry to lose her, but that she had worked hard and learned a lot and deserved to get a promotion. Her new team also was impressed with her accomplishments and her reputation, and said they’d be glad to have her working with them.

So everyone was shocked to find that HR had denied her transfer. When questioned they said that her team’s evaluations had been TOO good, that no one was perfect and the evaluations couldn’t have been honest. However, they agreed to let her team do the evaluations over. The second time around, each person tried to come up with some criticism, but all they could think of were little things like “Sometimes her perfume is a little strong” or “Once a couple of years ago she was a few minutes late when she had a flat tire.” The result? HR denied her transfer AGAIN because there were too many negative comments!

This was too much! The team leaders from both her old team and the team she wanted to join went to upper management and insisted that she be given the transfer. No one else knew the details of what happened after that, but HR reversed their decision and she got the transfer.

Trash Talking 20 Year Old Gets Instantly Humbled

Pounce dust all over the planimeter

Then don’t buy Chinese goods then.

It’s your choice. Put your money where your mouth is.

Things may cost more.

I sometimes have to work on HK Island, there’s some good food in some of the residential districts. But in the business districts like central or Admiralty the choices are limited to:

McDonalds, KFC, Maxims.

I’m currently boycotting those companies. So I go to places that cost more about 25% more.

China funds pro-CPC groups? 🤣 Sorry, China “does not interfere in the internal affairs of other countries.”

China would rather invest money in the Belt and Road Initiative and infrastructure construction in southern countries than in the corrupt and chaotic politics of the United States, because China’s development does not need to rely on US policies.

It is possible to carry out people-to-people cultural exchanges between China and the United States. The Chinese government has always required Chinese students and staff in the United States to protect their own safety, not to participate in local political activities, tell the Chinese story well, introduce a real China to American friends, and contribute to enhancing mutual understanding and promoting mutually beneficial cooperation. In fact, it is a good thing for American to have a real and objective understanding of China, which is beneficial for both sides, especially for the US.

Whether Americans pro-CPC or hate-CPC or Anti-communism is of little importance to the CPC. Besides, the CPC has no plan to govern the United States and no intention of sending Communist Party members to participate in the US election. The CPC does not need the votes of American citizens to govern China. 🤣 So, It doesn’t matter how Americans view CPC!


In addition, Taiwan chooses to fund U.S. congressmen or lobbying groups to oppose the CPC and China and attempt Taiwan independence because “political donations” and “political lobbying” are legal in the United States!

Can you name an example of a U.S. Congressman who is not a millionaire?

Taiwan is a participant in the US State Department’s Mutual Educational and Cultural Exchange Act, the DPP authorities have frequently invited US congressmen, their assistants, and congressional experts to visit the island under the pretense of universities and research institutions, whose “white gloves” have given legitimacy to high-profile receptions, including providing first-class flights, luxury hotels, leisure and entertainment, and paying exorbitant “commission fees.” In fact, all activities were arranged and paid for by the DPP authorities.

Former US secretary of state Mike Pompeo has paid his second trip to China’s Taiwan, trumpeting that the island was “an independent country,” as he spoke at a business forum at the invitation of pro-secessionist media Liberty Times. he will allegedly take “commission fees” from companies including Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co Ltd (TSMC), China Steel Corporation, I-MEI Foods Co Ltd and CHIMEI Corporation.

In his previous visit to the island, Pompeo was paid $150,000 for a speech, under the terms of an agreement signed by the Taipei Economic and Cultural Representative Office in the US and US-based company Premiere Speakers Bureau, according to Taiwan media reports.

The DPP also paid huge amounts of money to welcome Ed Royce, a “pro-Taiwan independence” Republican congressman, who visited the island in his “farewell trip” before retirement in 2018, according to media reports.

What’s more, the DPP has raised the budget for “foreign guest reception” in 2023 to some NT$430 million ($13.6 million) from NT$370 million, an increase of 16 percent.

Apart from directly channeling profits, the DPP has been catering to affiliated or family businesses of US members of Congress, analysts noted.

The transfer of benefits is also made through Taiwan groups in the US. For one thing, they were mobilized to campaign for “pro-Taiwan independence” legislators in the US. For example, when Marco Rubio ran for the Republican presidential candidate in 2016, he received donations from many Taiwan associations in the US, and from companies or banks in the island.

“US-Taiwan Business Council,” “North America Taiwanese Professors’ Association,” and some other organizations and institutes have also campaigned for legislators through donations, canvassing, and policy advising. “Formosan Association for Public Affairs” has long provided support and campaigning for Steve Chabot, a member of the US House of Representatives, and pushed for the Taiwan Travel Act.

In addition, the DPP authorities have given profits to the US politicians through public relations firms. The Global Times learned from gathered information that, to push for Pelosi’s visit, Taiwan authorities hired ex-congressman Dick Gephardt for $22,000 a month to lobby in the US. From February 2018 to April this year, Gephardt lobbied Pelosi for 16 times, for which the DPP paid another $3.15 million.

The DPP also hired over 10 public relation firms including Nickles Group to frequently lobby members of Congress.

Information from the US Department of Justice showed that from 2016 to 2020, the DPP spent more than $12 million on public relations lobbying in the US, on average $3 million per year. Taiwan’s other agencies also invested more than $9 million in this regard.

Rescue The Republic Rally To SAVE Western Civilization!

You can’t carry more than $ 5000 or equivalent in foreign currency while entering or leaving China

You can’t bring in any sum exceeding 20,000 RMB when entering or leaving China

Within China?

No Rule that says you can’t carry too much cash on your person and no upper limit

However there are some smaller rules

  • No Business can hold more than 500,000 RMB of Cash Or 5% of Total Declared Revenue as of the previous year whichever is LOWER. So Businesses always deposit their Cash in Banks whenever the amounts exceed these limits.
  • Individuals holding in excess of 60,000 RMB cash must explain the source of the funds and declare them when asked

Ukraine Looking For Retired F-16 Pilots? Fighter Pilots React.

Of course they did and they probably weren’t wrong at the start. The Zumwalt is a failure of leadership and project management rather than a pure design failure.

Initially, it was “let’s make a replacement for the Iowa class for shore bombardment, but cheaper and more survivable in the 21st century”. It was a reasonable idea considering that the Iowa class had been retired and they were horrendously expensive to operate anyway since they need a complement of escorting ships like a carrier. A stealthy bombardment ship sounds like a great solution to this problem.

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Imagine a Formula 1 car: It’s not a great car if you want to use it for grocery shopping or commuting to work, but its inability to carry anything other than the driver doesn’t make it a failure.

What happened to the Zumwalts was mission creep. The focus changed and it got loaded with all kinds of stuff, ostensibly for “improvements”, and ended up as a very expensive dud with just a barely-working main gun system (which is being replaced with hypersonic missiles). To use the F1 example, it’s like adding another seat and a trunk to the car and declaring, “now we can use it for racing AND commuting!” Is it any surprise that it becomes sub-par in all its roles? The Zumwalt is even worse considering the failure of the main gun—a bit like if the F1 car have underpowered engines.

If they did it like the F-35, let’s say, where they were very ambitious from the start, they might still have a fairly expensive class of ships and cost overruns, but they would also have working ships. Or else, they shouldn’t bother with the design after they started making it.

RUSSIA ISSUES DIRECT WARNING TO U.S.

***** BULLETIN ***** RUSSIA ISSUES DIRECT WARNING TO U.S.

BULLETIN: Russia has now issued a DIRECT warning to the United States and to NATO “If Western weapons are used to strike deep inside Russia, the consequences will affect both sides of the Atlantic.”

The direct warning was HAND DELIVERED by Diplomatic Courier, to the White House.

This comes after Ukraine began using west-supplied weapons to attack targets slightly over 1,000km into interior Russia, and  after U.S. said THIS WEEK “we are near to an agreement to provide Ukraine with long-range cruise missiles capable of reaching deep into Russian territory.”

This is a quickly-developing story.  Check back for updates.

UPDATE 3:45 PM EDT —

Russian ambassador to Washington, Anatoly Antonov, HAS NOW ALSO STATED PUBLICLY: “If Western weapons are used deep inside Russia, the consequences will affect both sides of the Atlantic.”

Russian ambassador to Washington, Anatoly Antonov

Russian Ambassador
Russian Ambassador

Worse, he said this while discussion the present, ongoing revisions to Russia’s Nuclear Weapons Use Doctrine!

I’ve Seen The Saucers – Elton John (1974)

Not what we seem

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

N Martin

As the deep space exploration drone, “Odyssey,” approached Proxima Centauri, tension filled the control room. Engineers and scientists gathered around screens displaying the drone’s telemetry and images from deep space.Months before the launch, the space agency had assembled a team of experts from various fields to work on the Odyssey project. Engineers, scientists, linguists, and even psychologists were brought together to ensure the mission’s success.The team spent countless hours in simulations, testing every possible scenario and fine-tuning the drone’s systems. Alex Chen led the engineering team, overseeing the design and construction of Odyssey’s advanced propulsion and communication systems.Dr. Amelia Brooks focused on the scientific objectives of the mission. She organised workshops and training sessions to familiarise the team with the latest research on Proxima Centauri and the potential for discovering extraterrestrial life.As the launch date approached, the atmosphere at the space agency was electric. The team had worked tirelessly, and now, the moment of truth was finally at hand.

 

Dr. Amelia Brooks, the mission’s lead scientist, leaned over a console, her eyes scanning the data with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “We’re getting closer to Proxima Centauri than any human-made craft has ever been,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “Just imagine the discoveries waiting for us.”

 

Next to her, Alex Chen, the chief engineer, nodded, his fingers dancing over the controls. “The drone’s systems are holding up remarkably well,” he replied. “But we’re entering uncharted territory. We need to be prepared for anything.”

 

As Odyssey sent back stunning images of alien worlds and mysterious phenomena, the excitement in the room was palpable. Every new piece of data was a puzzle to be solved, a clue to the secrets of the universe.

 

But then, without warning, the screens went dark. The telemetry stream halted, and the once-buzzing control room fell silent.

 

Alex’s fingers froze over the controls, his eyes wide with shock. “We’ve lost communication,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

 

Dr. Brooks stared at the blank screens, her mind racing. “Keep trying,” she urged. “There has to be a way to reestablish contact.”

 

After the heartbreaking loss of communication with Odyssey, the control room became a place of quiet desperation. Engineers and scientists worked around the clock, fueled by caffeine and sheer determination, trying every possible method to reestablish contact with the drone.

 

The first weeks were filled with hope and optimism. Every anomaly detected in the telemetry data was scrutinized, every blip on the radar was investigated. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, hope began to wane.

 

The team faced mounting pressure from both the public and the media. Questions were raised about the mission’s feasibility and the space agency’s ability to manage such a complex operation. Doubts began to creep in, and morale hit an all-time low.

 

Inside the control room, the atmosphere was one of quiet determination mixed with a growing sense of despair. Engineers and scientists formed tight-knit groups, working together to solve the seemingly unsolvable puzzle. They refused to give up, even as the odds stacked against them.

 

Late-night brainstorming sessions became the norm, with team members throwing out wild theories and hypotheses, no matter how improbable. Some suggested that Odyssey might have encountered a cosmic anomaly that temporarily disrupted its systems. Others speculated about the possibility of alien interference or even abduction.

 

Dr. Amelia Brooks, the mission’s lead scientist, took it upon herself to keep the team motivated. She organized weekly meetings to update everyone on the progress of the recovery efforts and to remind them of the importance of their mission.

 

“We owe it to ourselves and to humanity to keep trying,” she would say, her voice unwavering despite the fatigue in her eyes. “We’ve come too far to give up now.”

 

But as the weeks turned into months, the strain began to take its toll. Exhaustion set in, both mentally and physically. Team members started to doubt themselves and each other. Tensions rose, and arguments broke out over the smallest of details.

 

Despite the challenges, the team persevered. They refused to let their hard work and dedication go to waste. They continued to search for any sign of Odyssey, clinging to the hope that they might one day reestablish contact with their lost drone.

 

And then, just when they had all but given up hope, a faint signal was detected…

 

The first images and data sent back by Odyssey were nothing short of extraordinary. The drone’s cameras captured stunning views of alien worlds, strange celestial phenomena, and even what appeared to be evidence of a technologically advanced civilisation.

 

But then, the screens went dark, and the control room again fell silent. When contact was again suddenly reestablished, the images were even more unsettling.

 

The interior of an alien facility, a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors, filled with unfamiliar technology that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Strange symbols adorned the walls, their meaning a mystery to the team.

 

As Odyssey explored further, it encountered the alien creatures. These beings were unlike anything seen before: tall, slender, with skin that seemed to shimmer in different colours. They moved with a grace and purpose that suggested a highly evolved intelligence.

 

The creatures appeared to be studying Odyssey with a mix of curiosity and caution. They seemed to communicate with each other through a series of clicks and chirps, their language as alien as their appearance.

 

The drone’s cameras captured these interactions in vivid detail, but the team at Mission Control struggled to make sense of what they were seeing. Were these creatures friendly or hostile? What was their purpose in bringing Odyssey into their facility?

 

As the data logs were decoded, the cryptic messages added another layer of mystery. “They are not what they seem. Do not follow. Turn back or face extinction.” What had Odyssey stumbled upon? And what did these warnings mean for humanity’s future in the cosmos?

 

The control team was stunned. What had Odyssey encountered out there? Was this a warning meant for humanity or a message from the drone itself, transformed by whatever it had encountered?

 

Just when they thought they had seen the most unsettling images, the camera feed from Odyssey took a final, haunting turn. The lens panned to reveal another alien creature, chained and raised off the ground, its eyes locked onto the drone’s camera with an intensity that sent shivers down the spine.

 

As the creature stared directly into the camera, the screens at Mission Control were suddenly overtaken by a haunting warning displayed in red against a black background: “They are not what they seem. Do not follow. Turn back or face extinction.”

 

The control room fell into a chilling silence, the message echoing ominously in the minds of everyone present as the red text on black screens changed once more.

 

“We are not what we seem. Do not follow. Do not return. We are the last of our kind

Richard Wolff: Israel, Ukraine, China, and the End of the American Empire

I once witnessed a situation that perfectly fit the phrase, “You just picked a fight with the wrong person.” It happened at a small, cozy coffee shop I used to frequent. One afternoon, a well-dressed, middle-aged man came in and, for some reason, started berating the young barista behind the counter. She was this sweet, quiet girl, always polite and soft-spoken. The man was loud, condescending, and completely out of line, complaining about something trivial like the temperature of his coffee.

As he continued to raise his voice, demanding to speak to the manager, a woman at the back of the shop stood up. She was in her 50s, with a calm but steely demeanor. She walked up to the counter and, in the calmest voice, said, “Excuse me, sir, I’m the owner of this establishment.” The man turned to her, ready to continue his rant, but she didn’t give him a chance. With a firm but controlled tone, she told him that his behavior was unacceptable and that he was no longer welcome in her café.

The man tried to bluster his way out of it, but she was unshakeable. She informed him that she would not tolerate anyone mistreating her staff and that she had no problem calling the police if he didn’t leave immediately. The entire café was watching, and there was this palpable sense of justice in the air. You could see the man’s bravado evaporate as he realized he had underestimated her. He left, muttering under his breath, and the café broke out in applause.

That day, we all saw a quiet, kind barista stand her ground, not because she was aggressive, but because she had the unflinching support of someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to bullies. It was one of those moments that made you feel proud to have witnessed it, a true case of someone picking a fight with the wrong person.

German “TORNADO” Fighter Jet at Edwards Air Force Base, Flying with B-61 NUCLEAR Trainer

German Fighter At US Base with B61 NBuke Trainer large
German Fighter At US Base with B61 NBuke Trainer large

A TORNADO fighter jet from Germany, has been photographed outside Edwards Air Force Base in the U.S., carrying a B-61-12 nuclear bomb TRAINER.

These “TRAINERS” mimic the size and weight of such weapons, so pilots can get used to what the plane feels like, and how it maneuvers, when carrying such a bomb.

It is important to point out that when the U.S. approved the transfer by NATO Allies of “Donated” F-16 Fighter Jets to Ukraine, the U.S. DEMANDED that only F-16’s with the necessary modification enabling them to carry the B-61 Nuclear Bomb, would be allowed to be transferred to Ukraine.

Now, we’re letting GERMAN Fighter Pilots train on flying with such nuclear bombs as well.

Why do you think the U.S. is doing these things?

I think it’s because the U.S. intends to strike Russia with nuclear weapons.

Which, it seems to me, also means we will get struck back.   Here.  Inside the USA.

Just thought you should know what your government is presently working on — in your name and on your behalf.

When Female Narcos Mess With These Brutal Cartels

Shorpy

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Turkey Officially Applies to Join BRICS

Turkey Officially Applies to Join BRICS

Turkey applies to BRICS large
Turkey applies to BRICS large

Turkey has now offically submitted its application to join BRICS, after repeatedly being denied entry into the European Union!!

Even casual observers of matters geo-political, see this as a “Huge deal;.”

If accepted, Turkey would be the first NATO member and EU candidate to join BRICS.

The whole point of BRICS is basically to replace the world’s reliance on the US dollar and “centralized” power.

Turkish President Erdogan’s administration believes “the geopolitical center of gravity is shifting away from developed economies,” according to sources.

The proposal by Turkey will be discussed at the BRICS summit in Russia this October.

HOLY S#!T! NATO IS PREPPING FOR A DECAPITATION STRIKE ON RUSSIA!

Did it happen?

If you know then Russia knows. If that’s true, we’re fucked.

For years before we got married, I’d visit my future husband about 6 times a year. I’d fly from Canada to California to see him. I’d take my seat in economy and invariably a flight attendant would approach me before takeoff and ask, “are you flying alone?” I would answer that I was and they’d tell me to come with them and lead me to a business class seat. I assumed I was just lucky.

On future flights I was pulled out of line and whisked through customs. As I was going through a private security screening, I was told by a customs agent that I’d be sitting in business class. I told him that this happens to me in one way or another every time I flew and I didn’t understand why. He told me that my fiancé arranges this for me as this was the only explanation. He seemed to know who I was engaged to. He further told me that my fiancé was a very modest man and would never do this for himself but he must love me a lot to do it for me. I had no idea he was behind this. BUT…

While I waited to board the plane, I called my fiancé and asked him why he’d never told me that he arranges for me to sit in business class. He denied any knowledge of this and said he’d have told me if it was him. It wasn’t him. I have no idea why this happened for years. He’s not famous, I’m not famous and I have no connection to the airlines whatsoever. I don’t even dress well when I fly. Every time it happens, I think “you gotta be kidding me”.

“This Is The Greatest Lie Ever Told” – How Elites & Baby Boomers Collapsed America

Good video. He’s a bit too irritating, but his explanation, while soft, is pretty good. He talks about various historical cycles.

"You can correlate inflation with social collapse."

I heard this story from my uncle.

In 1969 a friend of his — a Vietnam tunnel rat on his second deployment — was home in Denver on leave from Vietnam. He was a Chicano about 5′ 4″ and 140 lbs, about the size of most tunnel rats.

FYI: Tunnel rats crawl into enemy caves, bunkers, and tunnels with just a pistol, a knife, and a flashlight and fight to the death in hand-to-hand combat with whoever is in there.

My uncle was giving him a ride to Fort Carson later that day so he could go back to the war, so him and my uncle went to a strip bar about 11 AM to have a few drinks. They had the best table in the bar, right in front of the dance floor. The tunnel rat was proudly wearing his uniform, ribbons and all.

My uncle went to the john to take a piss, and right then three big guys in cowboy hats and jeans came into the bar. They walked up to the tunnel rat who was sitting at the best table enjoying the show, and one of them told him to “get the f*#k out of our spot, you f*#king Mexican!” Then he punched the soldier in the head. BIG mistake!!

My uncle came out of the pisser right then, just in time to see the tunnel rat smash his beer mug across that guys face and proceed to beat the living shit out of all three of them, bouncing them across the bar room with fists, elbows, and kicks.

They were really busted up — some teeth on the floor, all three of them unconscious and bleeding. It all happened fast.

The Sheriffs showed up a few minutes later, looked at the mess, and asked the bartender what happened. He told them the truth, how the cowboys came in and attacked that soldier and got the shit beat out of them. The ambulances showed up then and started loading up the busted cowboys.

One of the Sheriffs questioned the soldier and found out he was a tunnel rat who was deploying back to Vietnam later that day. He looked at the bloody cowboys and chuckled, took statements from witnesses, and let the soldier go so he could get back to Fort Carson on time.

Just goes to show you — it’s not who is the biggest, but who deals the deadly blow first that wins the fight.

The Collapse of America & Everything Wrong With Society Today (+ A Hopeful Way Forward) | Ray Dalio

According to the OED, capitalism is “an economic and political system in which a country’s trade and industry are controlled by private owners for profit”.

So, capitalism equals private enterprise.

But I struggle with the invisible hand thesis of efficient markets. Yes, Adam smith’s “wealth of nations” is required reading in economics, but having been immersed in the business of profit, it doesn’t make sense to me.

A successful economy does not spring up organically. Neither do markets self-organize into optimal, efficient equilibria. As far as I can tell, the invisible hand applies only to prices, but it requires the presence of robust price discovery mechanisms, which entails complex issues of governance in law and administration.

No capitalist nation is truly capitalist. The UK’s NIH has nationalized healthcare. The Norwegians nationalized oil. The French still maintain colonies. All nations provide public education. The BOJ and Fed intervene directly in capital markets. Sovereign wealth funds have market-swaying powers. The US massively subsidizes farming and more recently, chipmaking.

And so on.

The term capitalism is overabused that it has become devoid of meaning, just like democracy.

What is “better at capitalism”? The absolute share of private enterprise in the economy? Private enterprise can be co-opted (or rather, directed) for government purposes. Cue elon’s starlink as a key enabler of NATO’s military campaign in Ukraine. Or American social media’s complicit role in Palantir’s “death by algorithm” program of automated drone assasinations.

What is “better at capitalism”? Hothousing the most profitable companies? There’s no fighting the Americans, who lead in valuation. But how much is enough?

What is “better at capitalism”? Ascending the capitalist throne as the “greediest SOB that ever lived”?

I don’t know. You tell me.

China just wants to improve its delivered baseline decade on decade. Whether it is market- or state-driven doesn’t matter, because the cat that catches mice is a good cat, whether it is black, or white.

Americans Are Priced Out Of Home Ownership, Marriage And Kids

Space Burns

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Stevie Aldrich

“CONKLIN!” Havaderr wailed. His face was the brightest red and steaming with heat. The veins in his neck throbbed noticeably, but he waited as still as he could for Conklin to answer. A buzz came in over the intercom above Havaderr’s head.

     “Hey, was that you shouting, Havaderr?” Conklin’s voice crackled with static and attitude. Havaderr shut his eyes and repeated his Zen mantra in his head.

     “Havaderr? What’s your problem?”

     Havaderr’s eyes opened, and in the most even tone he could manage; he said his mantra out loud.

     “I am calm. I am calm. I can overcome this. I am strong. I am strong. I can overcome anything.” Havaderr spoke through gritted teeth, spittle flying across the room as he focused on keeping his anger inside rather than shouting and blowing the place up with Conklin inside.

     “Hey guy, are you going to answer me or what?” Conklin’s voice implied his own rising impatience. Havaderr moved to the button on the wall nearest him to respond.

     “Yes, Conklin, I was shouting,” Havaderr said as evenly as his rage would allow. “Get your ass to 4A NOW!” As he trailed off, he clenched his teeth together so hard he felt a grinding that might as well have been a tooth chipping. Before Conklin’s reply came, Havaderr heard an irritated sigh over the intercom.

     “Yeah, be right ther-.” Conklin barely finished his sentence before releasing the button, cutting himself off at the end.

     Moments later, a door slid open down the hall, several yards away from Havaderr. Conklin came into the hall, looking both ways before spotting Havaderr.

     “What the hell, why are you shouting and-“ Havaderr cut Conklin off with a finger to his mouth to silence him.

     “I’m going to show you something in this room behind me, and it’s best if your mouth is shut when I do.” Havaderr’s voice wavered, he was still trying to control his anger. Conklin looked confused as ever but kept his mouth shut. With a worried expression, Conklin followed Havaderr to another door. Havaderr stood aside and opened the door for Conklin to enter alone. Conklin stood in the doorway staring, then Havaderr shoved him wholly into the room from behind and closed the door.

     “Havaderr, what’s going on? What the fu-ahhhh!” The intercom inside the restroom was unnecessary, but Havaderr appreciated it right now. He would have heard Conklin screaming from quite a distance, but hearing Conklin’s disgust and horror in surround sound was more pleasing. A slice of anger slid off his shoulders and a small smile appeared on his face.

     The door rattled, clearly Conklin on the other side trying to burst through, but Havaderr held the lock button, keeping Conklin trapped inside.

     “What kind of game is this Havaderr? Let me out, for Christ’s sake!” Conklin was panicking, releasing more anger from Havaderr’s shoulders and filling his belly with laughter.

     “This is no game, friend. This is you coming face to face with your own incompetence,” Havaderr said over the intercom, still smiling.

     “Havaderr! Let me out of here!” Conklin screamed and started ramming the door again.

     “I don’t think so, Conklin. If you look to the left of the door, I’ve been kind enough to set you up with plenty of cleaning supplies for the job, which is a lot more than you did for me. I’d suggest you start tackling that shit before it starts tackling you.” Havaderr exploded with laughter, letting go of the intercom and floating backward as he held onto his stomach. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Conklin kept banging on the door and pleading to be released, but Havaderr couldn’t hear anything over the roar of his own hysteria.

     Curled up in fetal position, floating in the hallway, Havaderr worked himself out of his fits of laughter. He wiped the joyful tears from his eyes and started breathing normally again. He moved back to the intercom.

     “Look mate, this restroom was in your sector to clean. Obviously, you did a piss poor job,” Havaderr grabbed his side, holding the laughter in after such a quality pun. “I told you, cleaning the restrooms would be the most important job, because if it isn’t done right, this happens. Floating excrement!” Conklin didn’t say anything, but Havaderr heard him kick or punch the door.

     “I’ll take your silence as admitting you did a sloppy job the first time. You know, I needed to do some business, and I walk into the restroom greeted with a turd to the face, which I’m assuming belonged to you, so I have no sympathy for you right now. Clean the damn restroom like you were supposed to, and I’ll let you out.” Havaderr waited for a response. He was eager to shower off the stench and stain of human waste from himself before finishing his day.

     “Yeah, alright,” Conklin said over the intercom, sounding defeated and guilty. Havaderr nodded his head and left Conklin to figure out how to clean a restroom with feces floating freely throughout.

     “Like I said, not a drop of sympathy for you. Do it right the first time, and we won’t run into stupid problems like that,” Havaderr said coolly, scrubbing at the built-up muck in the corners of the glass.

     Conklin was still cranky from cleaning the restroom the day before, and he meant to let Havaderr know just how little he appreciated the tactless way he was pushed into the situation without warning.

     “Chin up, Conklin. We have one more day before our shift is over, and we can get the hell off this floating heap of death,” Havaderr motioned toward the clear chambers that housed the comatose bodies of several crew members, one of which whose glass he was scrubbing.

     “Remind me, what’s up with these bodies? They’re dead, yeah?” Conklin asked.

     “No, they’re alive, they’re the crew, dumbass,” Havaderr grunted at Conklin. He looked over to see Conklin hovering around the main dashboard, not a rag or mop near him. “And I wouldn’t mind if you got to work while you asked your questions,” he barked. Conklin jumped and reached for a rag tucked into a closed bucket tethered nearby. He started mindlessly wiping at the dashboard without paying close attention.

     “Okay, but how come they’re asleep?” Conklin asked. Havaderr sighed as he paused and rolled his eyes.

     “Do I look like the Captain of this ship? All I know is, this crew is traveling some number of lightyears, so the ship has been programed for regular stops near inhabited planets for maintenance and cleaning. We drew the short straw, so we get to hop from the ship we were on previously, to this one, and then another one before heading back home. Nobody else was this far out into deep space to do the job, so we get a long shift before our break. At least they’re paying us over time, eh?” Havaderr smiled at the thought of a paycheck double its usual amount. He looked in on the half-naked man inside the tube he was cleaning, tapping on the glass with his knuckle and laughing at how strange the sight was.

     Air escaped the edges of the door, and it hissed loudly. The smile fell from Havaderr’s face as he scanned the chamber looking for an explanation. The door swung open and the half-naked man floated out as if to follow. Thankfully, he was attached to a few tubes that kept him reigned in and asleep, but the color left Havaderr’s face once he realized that would only last for so long.

     Havaderr turned to Conklin, who looked just as confused.

     “He just-just-he-“ Havaderr stuttered, unable to decide what he was trying to say. The man’s feet flew upward so his back was parallel to the floor and his right side dipped down. Slowly, he started to spin, so he was upside down. All the while, Havaderr and Conklin stared without any clue how to fix it.

     “Did you touch something?” Havaderr shouted at Conklin, who shook his head wordlessly.

     “I didn’t touch anything!” Havaderr went back to staring at the half-naked man, perplexed. After a minute, Havaderr decided they couldn’t leave the man like that.

     “Get over here and help me with this!” He yelled at Conklin. Still silent, Conklin moved toward Havaderr and the unconscious man. Havaderr and Conklin wore their gravity belts at 85% power to keep from floating off like the man from the tube, but it allowed them a bit more mobility too. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any extras to strap to the man, so he continued to spin and flip through the air.

     One of the wires connecting the man to his casket snapped, leaving only one left to keep him from flying down the corridor and into every other part of the ship. Havaderr and Conklin shared a look of fear but said nothing.

     Havaderr grabbed the man’s knees and tried to pull them down so the man was right side up, but as he pulled, the man’s whole body moved toward Havaderr. Conklin remained motionless, watching the unconscious body float into Havaderr. Havaderr struggled and groped, trying his very best to wrangle the helpless man, but even his best efforts left him with the man’s body bumping into him clumsily. He accidentally grabbed the man’s buttocks, and the man’s armpit swung around and slapped him in the face. All in all, it reminded Conklin of two young people at their first school dance, trying not to step on each other.

     Conklin covered the smile on his face, but the more Havaderr fought with the floating man and lost, the more the urge to laugh rose in his belly. When the man launched a foot directly into Havaderr’s eye, Conklin lost it. With one hand on the man’s shoulder and his other arm wrapped around the man’s torso, Havaderr stopped to see what was so funny to Conklin. He didn’t have to ask; he knew how he looked.

     “Would you knock it off and help me! I don’t know what we disconnected, but that could be vital to this man’s life!” Havaderr tried to repeat his mantra in his head, but he couldn’t hear anything over Conklin’s laughter. Havaderr grumbled as he kept spinning the man back into position, with no help from Conklin, who was tumbling in circles on the other side of the room.

     Finally, Havaderr got the man into his up-right position and back into the tube. As best as he could, he reattached the disconnected wires, but he couldn’t pull the door shut.

     “Conklin! Find the button to close this door, hurry, before he tries to escape again!” Havaderr pleaded.

     Conklin straightened up and moved to the dashboard he had been cleaning. On the first try, he hit a button, and the door closed, sealing itself. Havaderr wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Conklin, a little puzzled. Conklin’s laughter died down, but when he saw Havaderr near collapse and panting, his laughter boiled over.

     “What is wrong with you? Were you too busy finding this hilarious to help me save that man’s life?” Havaderr demanded, huffing and puffing.

     “Calm down, he’s fine,” Conklin squeaked. “The buttons are clearly labeled on the dash here, see?” Conklin pointed to the dashboard. Havaderr saw buttons marked to open doors, close doors, start specific mechanisms, stop the same mechanisms, and a bunch of other things Havaderr didn’t understand. What he did think he understood, was how the door opened in the first place.

     “Did you open his door on me?” Havaderr asked Conklin, the anger rising again.

     “Yeah, mate, you should have seen the look on your face!” Conklin rolled over laughing.

     “You idiot! You could have killed the man, we could be fired, what the hell is wrong with you?” Havaderr bellowed.

     “Relax Havaderr, you’ll give yourself a stroke!” Conklin pulled himself together for a second, setting his feet back on the floor and pointing to the dashboard again.

     “This here, that indicates their vital signs. You can see they’re all perfectly healthy, no harm done,” Conklin said matter-of-factly. Havaderr was flustered. He could only trust Conklin’s word, he had no idea what any of the lights or buttons meant on the dash.

     “You couldn’t have known it would be okay, though. What if the tube that detached from his arm was something that kept him alive?” Havaderr exclaimed. Conklin rolled his eyes, irritated that Havaderr wasn’t figuring it out as easily as he was.

     “All that tube did was give him pleasant dreams; it wasn’t important. He’ll live, and nobody need ever know you almost killed a man,” Conklin started to giggle again. Havaderr’s face turned tomato red and he clenched his fist, trying to fight the overwhelming desire to punch Conklin in the face.

     “You did this on purpose?” Havaderr said, strained.

     “Well, maybe don’t lock me in a room with floating shit again, and we’ll be fine,” Conklin smiled, feeling pleased with himself.

  • The astronauts of Apollo 11 could not get life insurance. They signed their photographs so that their family could get money after selling them.
  • The term “astronaut” is derived from Greek words “astro”, which means star, and “naut” which means “sailor”.
  • To be an astronaut, you have to be taller than 5’2” and shorter than 6’3”.
  • Astronauts on the International Space Stations witness 15 sunrises and 15 sunsets a day.
  • Many shooting stars that you see are actually astronaut poop burning up on its way down the atmosphere.
  • Astronauts can vote from space and their address is listed as “low-Earth” orbit in absentee ballots.
  • The International space station travels at 7.66 kilometres per second and can be seen from 6,700 locations on the Earth.
  • As per astronauts, space smells like “smeared steak” and tastes like “raspberries”.
  • Astronauts can lose up to 22% of their blood while in space, due to microgravity.
  • Neal Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, the first astronauts to land on the moon, had bacon cubes as part of their first meal on the moon. The full meal included four bacon cubes, three sugar cookies, peaches, pineapple-grapefruit drink, and coffee.
  • Valentina Vladímirovna Tereshkova was the first female astronaut in history and completed 48 orbits around the Earth in her three days of mission in space.
  • Astronaut Alan Shepard (crew member of Apollo 14) played golf on the moon’s surface. On his third strike attempt, he sent the ball so far away that its whereabouts are unknown.
  • After long periods of time traveling through space, an astronaut’s heart becomes almost 10% more spherical.
  • Astronauts need to exercise their muscles, as they atrophy easily in space. For this reason, at the International Space Station, there is a gym prepared for training.
  • Sleeping in outer space is a challenge of its own. The sun rises and sets approximately every 90 minutes making it difficult to have a good night’s sleep.

Hope you find them interesting 🙂

As U.S. Forces Dutch Semiconductor Giant To PUNISH China, Beijing To CANCEL G7 Grain Imports

The hobo on the bus tale

As you know, China has a long history and culture, including tens of thousands of idioms. I think there is a most appropriate idiom to describe the Philippines’ current actions – “overestimating one’s own strength” means not being able to objectively estimate one’s own strength.

Can the Philippines’ population, land area, territorial depth, industrial capacity, mobilization capacity, fiscal revenue and expenditure, government integrity and other factors support a high-intensity war?

Obviously, the Philippines can’t do it, and Marcos can’t do it even more.

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In March 2023, the Philippine Coast Guard said it had launched a propaganda strategy aimed at disclosing China’s so-called “aggressive actions” and tough behavior in the South China Sea to the international community. This operation, named the “Maritime Transparency Program”, has since made its debut.

Its operating routines are exactly the same:

The Philippines deliberately provoked at sea, and the Philippine Coast Guard and military immediately used social platforms to release information afterwards.

Then the accompanying Philippine media and American and Western media reporters invited by the Philippines began to “tell their own stories” to “corroborate” and create international public opinion that the Philippines’ normal maritime operations encountered “dangerous interference” from China.

Following closely, the United States and other “close partners” came out to support, and a few American and Western think tanks labeled China as a “rule breaker” and further shaped China’s so-called “lonely bully” image.

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(Philippine ship deliberately rammed Chinese Coast Guard ship.)

But this narrative is not objective. Philippine public opinion has been manipulated by Western media, which is very sad.

The joint statement of the just concluded 57th ASEAN Foreign Ministers’ Meeting reiterated that the relevant parties should restrain their actions and avoid taking actions that will complicate and expand the dispute, affect peace and stability, and further complicate the maritime situation.

However, the Philippines’ recent actions at Xianbin Reef run counter to the common expectations of other countries in the South China Sea.

As an important global shipping route, the South China Sea has been used by 50% of the world’s merchant ships and one-third of the world’s maritime trade for decades without any interference or obstruction.

For the Filipino people, the top priority is to solve domestic economic problems.

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(People are picking up discarded vegetables at a public market in Manila.)

According to a July report by the Philippine Manila Times, the South China Sea dispute was ranked among the issues that the Filipino people paid the least attention to.

In addition, Filipinos can also pay more attention to the huge assets of the Marcos family deposited in Swiss banks, which are all the hard-earned money of the Filipino people.

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(When former first lady Imelda fled to the United States with her husband Musk, people discovered that they had collected more than 3,000 pairs of shoes, more than 2,000 pairs of gloves, more than 1,700 bags, more than 5,000 pairs of shorts and countless socks and underwear in their luxurious residence.)

Enchanted forest in Devon,England

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Mekong River (China calls it Lancang river 澜沧江) starts from China and runs thru Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam & then to the South Sea. 70% of Cambodian sea trade goes thru Vietnam for a fee. Money is one thing. To be controlled by Vietnam is another. Twice, in 1994 & 2020, Vietnam blockaded Cambodia’s sea trade.

The irony is that the land where Vietnam’s sea port is located belonged to Cambodian kingdom in history. Vietnam, a nation that was born later than Cambodia, militarily occupied that piece of land.

With China’s infrastructure technology in the 21st century, Cambodia asks China for help to make a canal (Funan Techo Canal) so as to control its own fate re sea trading. It makes sense, isn’t it? Who would like to be blackmailed?

Understandably, Vietnam is not happy because it will lose hefty revenue from Cambodia. Then comes with all kinds of dirty tricks. It said it is concerned of the damage to the environment. But study shows that the canal only affect 2% of the water flow of Mekong River. Not enough to change the ecosystem of Mekong.

Then Vietnam propagated that China will control Cambodia AND Malacca strait that is controlled by USA & Singapore. See, Vietnam wants to drag USA along to stop the canal.

Historically, Cambodia & Vietnam had many wars. The latest was in 1978-1989. In mid Aug 2024, while Cambodia celebrated the start of the canal project, Vietnam set up arms at the Vietnam-Cambodia border close to the mouth of the canal. After that Vietnam’s military chief met with Cambodia’s counterpart.

On the other hand, using modern weapons bought from China, Cambodia conducted a military drill by firing a rocket & showing off robot dogs to assist the ground troop. Vietnam’s weapons are old from 1960-80’s.

The canal project started on 2024/8/5 & is expected to finish in 4 years.

some news re Vietnam

After a Vietnamese team has visited USA, Vietnam’s new president To Lam visited China. Dont know if Vietnam wants to see if it can get US goodies & use it as a bargain with China.

Earlier Vietnam followed Philippines & went to UN to extend its continental shelf (failed). Also militarily collaborated with PH.

China is the Worst Country in the World!

This patient was something else. She didn’t have a job, lived in the lower echelons of society and was obviously mentally challenged. She also had a kidney stone.

She claimed to be suffering from severe abdominal pain and subsequently visited her General Practitioner, but he brushed her off with Ibuprofen because “it was obviously the kidney stone.” But the pain was simply too intense to cover up with a simple GP-woven Ibuprofen blanket, so she called her urologist’s office, and insisted on coming over right away.

When she explained her symptoms, the urologist knew at once that this was not related to the kidney stone. And then the patient said the most remarkable thing —

“It’s so painful that I asked my dad to drive slower on the way to the hospital.”

The urologist immediately asked if that was because of the bumps in the road. (It was.)

She then applied pressure on a specific point on the right-hand side of the patient’s abdomen and then quickly released the pressure, and the patient’s reaction confirmed the urologist’s hypothesis. (The patient loudly screamed.)

“It’s not the kidney stone. You have acute appendicitis. And you will need emergency surgery right away.”

The patient first refused the operation (bearing her GP’s “diagnosis” in mind, and because she did not really understand what was going on), but the pain quickly grew worse and she was feverish as well.

So when a general surgeon (and an emergency ultrasound) confirmed the urologist’s diagnosis, she eventually gave in, and not much later the appendix (and a huge amount of pus) was removed.

If she had waited any longer upon listening to her GP, his (enormous and unforgivable) mistake could have very well ended up fatally for her. Because her pain was not kidney stone related at all (as the GP should have known) —

And the road was really bumpy.

FIRST TIME HEARING ROBIN TROWER – Too Rolling Stoned Live REACTION

1. A lion may sleep up to 20 hours a day.

2. A lion’s heel doesn’t touch the ground when it walks.

3. A good gauge of a male lion’s age is the darkness of his mane. The darker the mane, the older the lion.

4. Even though the lion is sometimes referred to as the “king of the jungle,” it actually only lives in grasslands and plains. The expression may have come from an incorrect association between Africa and jungles or may refer to a less literal meaning of the word jungle.

5. A lion can run for short distances at 50 mph and leap as far as 36 feet.

6. A lion’s roar can be heard from as far as 5 miles away.

7. The lion was once found throughout Africa, Asia and Europe but now exists only in Africa with one exception. The last remaining Asiatic lions are found in Sasan-Gir National Park in India, which was primarily created to protect the species. Currently, there are approximately 350-400 lions in the park.

8. These majestic cats are threatened by habitat loss. The lion is listed as vulnerable on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species.

9. Male lions defend the pride’s territory while females do most of the hunting. Despite this, the males eat first.

10. African lions are the most social of all big cats and live together in groups or “prides.” A pride consists of about 15 lions.

First they had a law where at least 51% Share of any Business owned by a Foreigner outside of HK and Macau on the Mainland had to be owned by a Mainland Entity

They modified this to at least 49% in the 1990s and also a Franchisee System for Foreign Commercial Outlets like McDonalds (Guangdong, 1990) or KFC (1991, Shanghai) [The 1987 KFC in Beijing was a Trademark based wholly owned Chinese Entity that served Rice Conjee]

They then modified this to at least 30% if Technology Transfer was included meaning 70% could be owned by a US Entity

They then allowed Foreign owned companies to establish FRANCHISEES and licensed based businesses for Financing and Banking including Citibank (1987), Standard Chartered (1992) and DBS (1999)

Finally today there are four forms of Foreign Ownership in China :-

  • Wholly Owned Trademark Or Royalty based Business – Business is fully owned by Chinese Entities but they pay a fixed Royalty or Trademark to Western Entities like Ingenious Designs LLC (Joy Magnano)
  • Joint Venture Foreign Subsidiary – Business is owned 51–49 by a Western Partner and Mainland Partner Or 70–30 (Tech Transfer) or 85–15 (Advanced Technology like Intel and TSMC)
  • Wholly Owned Foreign Enterprise or WFOE (Wholly Foreign owned Enterprise) – Business is 100% owned by Foreign Entities but China gets a fixed percentage of profits and minimum workforce guarantee. One Example is TESLA.
  • State Joint Venture Subsidiary – JV Foreign Subsidiary where the State owns minimum 20% of the Shareholding of the Mainland shareholding or 9.8% of the Total Shareholding

These days WOFEs are very common and 82% Businesses established from 2023 May have been WOFEs

So Americans can own a fully owned US business and sell their products or services in China provided

  • The Data used is stored and secured in Chinese Owned and Operated Data Servers with Chinese designed Encryption Algorithms (DSA, 2005 with amendments in 2017 & 2022)
  • A Sum equivalent to at least 18 months wages of all Employees and all running costs of the Business be deposited with a Chinese Bank for Bankruptcy scenarios
  • At least 63% of the Supply Chain must be sourced within the Mainland and since 2020 – at least 80% of the Supply Chain must be sourced within the Mainland, HK and Chinas RCEP partners
  • Minimum Investment into Manufacturing should not be less than $ 400 Million & in case of services (Non Financial) should be minimum $ 50 Million and services (financial) should be at least $ 1.5 Billion

There are over 57,000 Businesses in China owned by Foreigners under the four above categories


Problems Americans have :-

A. Data Security Laws – Since 2007, China has insisted that all Data Servers hosting Data of Wholly Owned Foreign Entities be owned by State Owned Chinese firms

  • Japan, Singapore, Germany immediately agreed
  • S Korea agreed in 2010
  • Asean agreed in 2011
  • EU and US held out until 2016 but finally agreed

B. Data Security Laws II – Since 2021, China has insisted that Data Servers of IBM and Dell and other Western companies who once owned 87% share in China be REPLACED with Huawei and Lenovo for any State owned company & Private Chinese Company

  • Now Huawei has a 34% Share and Lenovo a 7% Share, that’s 41% Market owned by China
  • Not WOFEs which can still has IBM
  • Likewise Huawei Cloud & Sugon has taken over 80% of Western Owned Data Businesses

Americans are VERY ANGRY especially IBM

This Retirement Data is TERRIFYING || Do you want to be an ‘Also Ran’?

https://youtu.be/_5vSCHLAsn4

Not admitted to a cop but admitted to me by a citizen. Received a call of s suspicious person at a local grocery store. Well I am enroute and the various situations play through my head and a cover officer is also dispatched a female officer (this is revelant later) arrive meet with security who leads me to the suspicious person. A middle aged male in the aisle muttering to self and holding a package of “female hygiene” products. Approach male and ask “what is going on? What are we doing here?”q

I am informed my “suspect” is a single father of a teenaged daughter that is having her first period; and he has no idea what product to purchase for her. Standing there facing one another we both have a completely blank expression on our faces with a very awkward silence. The silence is finally broken by my radio announcing my cover has arrived (thank holy Jesus the Calvary has arrived) she asked over the radio if she is still needed and my location in the store. I respond “more than I can even express, all is 10-4 and aisle (something)”

Down the isle comes lady officer XYZ, she is ready to do battle and there I am and our suspect exchanging blank looks and not much else. She storms up “what is the problem” I look at her and then tell our suspect to explain to lady officer XYZ what the issue is exactly. He does in a sheepish “please help” voice. She fires daggers at me after explanation is given and I look back “I know, I am sorry, I owe you lunch; Please please help us dumb ass males out here we are clueless!! I mean seriously clueless!!” she asked height, weight and other revelant questions. My boots suddenly become very very interesting. She grabs and hands our suspect the proper product from the information she had gathered. I am happy to clear us from the call for service and high tail it back to my patrol car. She is having none of that “you’re off the hook” thing.

She says “how are YOU going to write this up” I said “I got it, let’s call it a public service call” she says “lunch on you tomorrow” I said “lunch on me the rest of this week”. She shot me (die where you stand look) laughed and got in her unit.

Was looking for a new car. Called various Audi dealerships; got down to a good price but no value given for trading in my current leased car. One dealership gave me a really good price and a really good value for turning in my currently leased car. I checked with other dealers and they all said they couldn’t get close. The numbers were too good. He was going to try and cheat me me somehow.

So, I said to the salesman that gave me the great price they had to take the trade in sight unseen with only deductions that Audi would require if I turned it in to Audi. Also his price was the drive away price. No extra charges.

I go in to pick it up they keep me waiting a long time. Trying to get me late and anxious to get the deal done. Then sales manger comes out to inspect the car with a pad and writes down every trivial paint chip and minor parking lot ding. He was about to say there was no trade in value and I told him he wasn’t allowed to reduce for anything Audi wouldn’t deduct for, and Audi allowed, everything except major dents and there weren’t any. Audi wouldn’t lose a sale over minor paint chips. He walked away dejected.

Had to wait for the leasing guy and he gave me the paperwork. It was based on the wrong price about $1500 high. I pointed that out and he made some lame excuse but agreed to fix it. Then I went through all the fees that aren’t agreed and make him take them off but in a couple places he said we put the fee in here but we reduce the amount here so you don’t really pay it. I said ok.

I get home happy that I got my original deal and trade in. Then I realized there was $169 dollars that was supposed to be removed but wasn’t. Still a great deal but I was upset with myself for missing it. Then I get an email from Audi USA asking how my transaction went. I explained how they cheated me out $169 but tried to cheat me $2000 on the trade in and about her $1500 on the price used in calculating the lease.

Next day the salesman called screamed at me saying because of what I said he lost his entire bonus for the whole quarter.

Same tree and different seasons

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I was walking into a Chick-fil-A with my duty sidearm as I was attending police training nearby. A young mother saw the gun, but somehow missed I was wearing my badge on my belt.

She immediately confronted me and started shouting I was in a family-friendly place and she had her two sons with her and having my gun visible (on me) was totally unacceptable.

I attempted to explain to her that I was a sworn law enforcement officer attending a training session nearby, but she cut me off and wanted to hear no excuses.

She demanded that I leave immediately or she would call the police. I politely said I would wait while she was on the phone with 911.

The responding officer was just around the corner (actually, he was in the drive-thru line) and responded quickly.

As he entered the restaurant, I motioned for him not to acknowledge me but to hear her complaint.

The young mother went on a tear about how so many people were wearing guns these days and that it made her uncomfortable.

The officer listened to her go on for about ten minutes and then politely stopped her.

The officer motioned for the manager who had been listening off to the side to come into the conversation.

The manager explained that his owners policy was to let police officers eat in the restaurant with their sidearm and badge.

At this time I took the visible badge off my belt and showed it to her.

The officer looked at me and said sorry corporal, turned on his heels and returned to his car to eat a cold sandwich.

The young mother was silent for the first time in about forty-five minutes.

The manger walked over to the register, punched a few buttons and promptly refunded the young mother the cost of her order.

The manager said officers were welcome in his store any time and he would rather lose her business than that of the several local departments that purchased breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day from his store.

He then invited the mother to leave the store but as she exited he made one final comment to the tune of, “not everyone who carries a gun is bad just as not everyone who doesn’t carry a gun is good.”

I still frequented that store even though I am no longer a sworn officer to show my support for the owner and manager.

The Clearest UFO Footage Ever – Shape Shifting UFO

Recently, Foreign Affairs magazine published an article by Jonathan D. Caverly, an associate professor at the U.S. Naval War College, which put forward a controversial view: the United States should not conflict with China for Taiwan.

This typical “abandon Taiwan theory” stems from his new understanding of Taiwan’s status.

Compared with former U.S. politicians who believe that Taiwan Island is an “unsinkable aircraft carrier” that can prevent China’s rise, and cross-strait reunification will impact U.S. military hegemony. Caverly believes that the military value of Taiwan Island is limited, U.S. hegemony does not depend on the fate of Taiwan Island, and cross-strait reunification cannot change the balance of power between China and the United States in the Pacific.

Of course, this is only the theoretical basis of Caverly’s “abandon Taiwan theory”, and the real reason is that the risk of challenging the PLA in the Taiwan Strait is too high. There is another important reason for a more realistic choice: even if the Chinese Navy suffers huge losses, it can rebuild a strong navy in a few years, while it is difficult to replenish U.S. warships after they are destroyed.

He said something very straightforward: “American allies would rather see the US fleet than have these combat forces destroyed in the confrontation with China.”

Although Caverly’s article only represents personal opinions, the fact that it can be published in “Foreign Affairs” also means that American society is reflecting on the issue of military intervention in the Taiwan Strait.

Once the PLA launches a military action against Taiwan, and the US military assesses that it cannot win, and says that it will not intervene, the US allies will question the strength of the United States. Once the US military admits its weakness, it will cause the US government to be very passive. From the beginning of the vague policy adopted by the United States on the Taiwan issue, such a choice has been left open.

As long as the US allies believe that Taiwan’s unification with China will not have much impact, it will be a reasonable choice for the US military not to intervene. As long as the Western society believes that such a choice is correct, abandoning Taiwan will be a matter of course.

In general, even if the United States has ten thousand reasons not to give up on the Taiwan issue, it will have to give up because of China’s strength, and this process will inevitably make the United States very painful.

Charging rhino is the most intimidating thing

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One fact which is not too widely understood by the general public is how to interpret blast yield.

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2020 Beirut blast

Back in 2020 a warehouse in Beirut exploded and was caught on film. It was absolutely massive, the shockwave blew debris all around, demolishing buildings and killing people. Over 200 people died and over 7000 were injured by overpressure, flying debris, glass and more. Over 300,000 people lost their homes as a result of the blast. It was a terrible event, an explosion of conventional nitrates, equivalent to 1.1 kt of TNT. This is approximately 10% the blast yield of Hiroshima bomb.

Normal people look at this and swallow hard imagining how much worse nuclear bombs must be. This blast was just 10% of what is nowadays considered a relatively small bomb, mainstream weapons nowadays are about 40 times more powerful than that, so 400 times the Beirut blast. It’s very easy to imagine just how much worse the nuclear bomb must be.

And it is worse. Just not in the way you might think.

Explosive yield is not a 1-to-1 comparison of effects. Rather it’s the amount of energy released by the blast. A more neutral way would be to express it in Joules, but you’d lose yourself in all your zeroes and you have to be a weirdo to be able to envision what 4.18e12 Joules does to a city and how it differs from 4.18e13 Joules. Both numbers are big … that’s all a normal person can say. In case you’re wondering, the first one is one kiloton, the second is ten kilotons and you can probably imagine those much better.

This is important, because the energy profile of a conventional explosion is profoundly different to a nuclear blast. A conventional explosive works such that a solid material (the explosive) rapidly decomposes exothermically, it falls apart and generates lots of heat in a very short amount of time. The product of this explosion has a volume that is many times greater than the original bomb, which creates a massive overpressure and this bubble is also very hot, because the decomposition was exothermic, it generates a lot of heat. This increases the pressure even further and generates the destructive blast wave seen in Beirut videos.

A nuclear weapon works differently, there the only products are heat and radiation. A nuclear weapon doesn’t generate an appreciatable amount of gases from previously solid materials, it just heats a very small area to such a high temperature an explosion still occurs. However the blast wave a result of heat and the overpressure is grossly incomparible with that of conventional explosives. This is why you have the infrared radiation causing fires and burns well away from ground zero in a nuclear blast, but not a conventional explosion. All of this is baked into the initial “kiloton” expression, although conventional explosions produce neither.

The Beirut blast wave was comparible to that caused by the Hiroshima bomb. I’m not saying it was identical but it certainly was rather close to what a 12 kt nuclear bomb would do at that location in terms of a blast wave. The nuclear bomb would also cause a bright flash that would blind people looking the wrong way, it would also cause burns to people exposed to the blast and it could cause radiation injuries, the fireball would also incinerate the warehouse itself, but the blast beyond that would be similar to what (nominally) ten times smaller conventional explosion produces.

If you want to take this further, the blast wave is considerably affected by gravity and causes more damage in the horisontal direction, where buildings and people are. Radiation (thermal or ionizing) from a nuclear blast is only minimally affected, so a considerably larger part of energy is released up and away, into space. Ditto for energy directed downwards at the ground. Overpressure will be channeled to the side by terra firma, radiation will just be absorbed eventually.

This is why you can’t take an explosion of, say, 1,000 tons of TNT and say a nuclear bomb would be 10, 20 or 1000 times worse. No. It would release a lot more energy, but the profile of that energy will be widely different to the point of the two being largely incomparible. Of course a 20 or a 1000 times more energetic blast is still going to be worse overall, but effects don’t just scale up. It’s a lot more complex than that.

That Thing You Do! (2/5) Movie CLIP – Radio Debut (1996) HD

The story of Roman Sosa, former pro boxer, who escaped death or his murder planned by his wife.☠️

Roman Sosa met his wife Maria de Lourdes Dorantes, also known as “Lulu” in a bar and they got married in 2009. Lulu had her two kids with her. In 2010, the couple opened Woodlands Boxing and Fitness together.

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By 2014, Roman knew that his marriage was nearing his end. As Lulu would be a loving wife for a first few days and for the next few days she would be cruel and would even talk about selling their gym Woodlands.

During this time, Roman got to know a man named Mundo, who grew up in poverty. Roman asked Mundo whether he wanted to learn fighting? To which Mundo replied yes. Two of them got so close together that Roman addressed Mundo as his other son.

Mundo one day, heard Lulu and her daughter planning about Roman’s murder and getting all his assets befor the divorce was finalized. Mundo immediately called roman to tell him the same. Also afraid for his friend, Mundo decided to play along and made up a name, telling Lulu he knew someone named “Paco” who could do the job.

The two decided to have Mundo keep the act up with Lulu, and to get more evidence and information to take the case to police. Ramon got a burner phone to act as “paco” – his own hitman.

On July 15, 2015, Ramon Sosa and Mundo went to the Montgomery Co. Constable’s Office and shared what they knew. They provided recorded audio conversations between Mundo and Lulu, as well as $100 they said Lulu gave Mundo as a down payment for the hit on Ramon.

The police then decided to do an undercover operation and get more evidence so as to arrest Lulu.

On July 21, 2015 the policemen used make up on Ramon Sosa to make it look like that he was shot by a gun on his temple and took his photos to show Lulu as proof.

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On July 22, 2015, an undercover officer posing as “Paco” met up with Lulu on camera to show her the proof. And the immediate response of Lulu to the photo was an evil smile.

Lulu Sosa was arrested on July 23 on the charge of solicitation of murder.

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I Work For A Company That Contains Liminal Spaces. The Abandoned McDonalds

China

There will be a clear winner and it will be China

Japan is vulnerable and 70 years of being a US Lackey have made it soft.

Chinas numerical Advantage and Economic Strength is simply too strong for Japan already throttled by Deflation and Stagnancy.

Without US Interference – No Country has a Chance against China in the Long term except maybe Russia.

The Only Question is – Is China prepared to be burnt very badly in the process?

Remember a Decimated Japan always has the West and US rushing into help economically but a Decimated China will receive no help as it is an Alpha Predator. I am sure Pakistan cannot flood China with a Trillion Dollars nor can Russia.

That is Chinas Achilles Heel.

They are an Alpha Power which means they have to be very careful in any War they plan because whatever damage they suffer – they must be able to handle and correct it on their own without depending on anyone else, even Russia.

I won’t need to do anything.

The BadCat will eat your eyes. I probably couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to. But considering the purpose of your visit, I’m more inclined to stand idly by and watch. Maybe I’ll take some video. A cautionary tale for the next firearms prohibitionist contemplating vandalism.

You see, the BadCat does not approve of strangers. Not even a little bit. He can jump face high from the floor from a standing start, while yowling in the Menacing Tense like an enraged kzin, and slice you to ribbons even if you’re a fit adult male. Eyes and carotids.

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main qimg 33baaeb5aa90a56db95ba953ee4ea5b8

If you put your hands up to ward him off or peel him off, you just bleed more.

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main qimg 0a56ee92e82df9c6f29cf18a203e0543

He has no remorse. Just look at him gloating. Evil incarnate. A feline demon. –

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main qimg 9f63a8d6afb4ec3037f50afa28bfb308

The vault door is for your protection, not his. And it’s barely up to the task.

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main qimg f795792c4efcb1968a321e4cc7881b30

Oh, did I mention that he’s under my protection? It’s a proven fact that coyotes who would harm cats do so less frequently after receiving 3.5gram projectiles at Mach 2.7. It makes a bloody mess of them.

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main qimg 4067e90439dc94ee1a9f27fd1822f28c

Here he is prowling coyote country, just looking for a ‘yote to torment –

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main qimg dc945a95463dd7235d5739a29d151971

Perhaps you should reconsider. Besides, the safe would probably stop you. It’s a screw door Mosler with Relsom plate and tungsten carbide inclusions.

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main qimg 6f6f35767c65192ef9cd7d917c2cce15

Unless you pick the wrong safe, in which case you get to die horriby by chloropicrin and phosgene. You know, war gasses. Nasty stuff. Not worth the risk, I assure you. But then probably anything is preferable to the cat getting you.

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main qimg b0fa5b6ae45cfb2d5bc5a2b55bbde57a

Water ice on mars

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main qimg 9ce76a8b0204620eb4b75e4e4286d619 lq

A Monk prays for a dead man who was waiting for his train in the station hall of Shanxi Taiyuan train station in Shanxi, China.

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main qimg 0081da4b5e47147daf47bd1ea6fb72be lq

The photographer:

“I remember clearly that it was about 5 p.m. on November 25. 

I was just finishing an assignment photographing retired military soldiers bidding farewell to their comrades at the train station. 

On my way out, I heard someone yelling from a corner and soon after lots of people gathered around. 

I ran towards the sound and made my way to the front of the crowd, only to find an old man dead on the bench. 

As I raised my camera, a Buddhist monk walked out of the crowd and went directly towards the dead man. 

The monk bent down to hold the old man’s hand and started to chant scriptures. 

I began to take pictures immediately. 

One minute later, police came over and cordoned off the area. 

After the monk finished the ceremony, he bowed to the old man and quickly disappeared among the other busy passengers.”

When the monk found an old man slumped over on a train station bench, he stopped, held his cold hand and prayed, and then bowed before him. He honored this man, who died while waiting for his train.

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main qimg 8f6f44191e20ceb77adcbf49d6318fd5 lq

We know our lives are a brief moment of the Infinite, but there are only few instances in life that conjure the true understanding of reality.

The day, the second, this old man was born, he too never have thought he would one day leave this world in the waiting hall of a train station.

Things are difficult to predict, and lives are over in a moment. We never know when the last time is THE LAST TIME.

Most of the things in life are just noises, and a very few things are exceptionally valuable. Find those things.

It pains me to see people eating alone, let alone death. Money is very important and so are the people with whom it is spent with.

Lessons I learnt:

  • From the Crowd: No matter what. World never stops. It goes on.
  • From the Man: Death is inevitable. It will come when it will come. You leave everything behind except what is woven into the life of others. Try to weave something good.
  • From the Monk: A part of being a human is to do something for people what they deserve. In times of tragedies, no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

V

Shorpy

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Wells Fargo Employee Found Dead At Her Cubicle…4 Days Later!

Here are twenty clean jokes for you:

1. Why don’t scientists trust atoms?
Because they make up everything!

2. What do you call fake spaghetti?
An impasta!

3. Why did the scarecrow win an award?
Because he was outstanding in his field!

4. What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?
A carrot!

5. Why did the bicycle fall over?
Because it was two-tired!

6. What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?
Nacho cheese!

7. How does a penguin build its house?
Igloos it together!

8. Why can’t you give Elsa a balloon?
Because she will let it go!

9. What do you call an alligator in a vest?
An investigator!

10. Why are ghosts bad liars?
Because you can see right through them!

11. What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?
Frostbite!

12. Why did the math book look sad?
Because it had too many problems!

13. What did the zero say to the eight?
Nice belt!

14. Why was the computer cold?
It left its Windows open!

15. How do you organize a space party?
You planet!

16. What do you call a bear with no teeth?
A gummy bear!

17. Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?
In case he got a hole in one!

18. What did one ocean say to the other ocean?
Nothing, they just waved!

19. Why don’t skeletons fight each other?
They don’t have the guts!

20. What do you call a pig that does karate?
A pork chop!

Teenage boys hitting on me has never stopped creeping me out. This has happened every year since I started teaching. The comments made by them are sometimes VERY inappropriate, so I try to turn it into a ‘how to treat women with respect’ life lesson for them…

Besides that I had one incident in the last 10 years that really freaked me out. I once had a girl in my class, she was about 15 years old, and she decided the first day of the new school year that she hated me. After 4 weeks of class, she suddenly walks up to me in the middle of me talking about the outbreak of WW1 and started saying things about my family; she knew my youngest sister’s name, address, where she went to school and named some of her friends. While doing this she kept looking straight at me. When she finished summing up all this information, she turned around, walked back to her chair and smirked at me. I was completely freaked out, but kept a straight face and went on with my class. After this class I immediately went to the principals office and demanded that her parents would be called into school to discuss this ‘intimidating’ behaviour. It was brushed off as a joke by them.

Few weeks later two of her friends were still in my classroom after class so I started chatting with them. They brought up the incident that occurred and told me that she was out to get me and my family because her boyfriend liked me. Now this wasn’t just a ‘normal’ jealous teenage girl, she regularly got into very violent fights and was known for being completely bonkers. Her friends feeling the need to inform me of this and telling me to be careful really freaked me out again, I don’t want a crazy person like this knowing my family’s address! Back to the principal’s office is was. The parents were called again and she was suspended from my classes for the rest of the block.

I had to teach this girl for another 2 years, she never said anything inappropriate to me again, but it’s the only student ever that I didn’t want to have in my classroom.

Pizza Tot Casserole

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16d4e2012d5f1ea3429a016db9c589c1

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  • 1 (11 1/8 ounce) can condensed Italian tomato soup, undiluted
  • 1 (4 1/2 ounce) jar sliced mushrooms, drained
  • 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese
  • 1 (32 ounce) package frozen tater tots

Instructions

  1. In a skillet, cook the beef, bell pepper and onion until meat is no longer pink; drain.
  2. Add soup and mushrooms.
  3. Transfer to a greased 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish.
  4. Top with cheese and potatoes.
  5. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes or until golden brown.

Journey – Feeling That Way/Anytime | REACTION | INCREDIBLE!

U.S. Seizes Airplane Used By Venezuela President Nicholas Maduro

U.S. Seizes Airplane Used By Venezuela President Nicholas Maduro

Plane of Venezuels President Seized By USA large
Plane of Venezuels President Seized By USA large

The United States has SEIZED the airplane used by Venezuelan President Nicholas Maduro.  The plane was in the Dominican Republic and the U.S. grabbed it for “violating U.S. Sanctions.

The plane was then flown to Florida.

It is not yet clear WHO it is that allegedly violated US Sanctions; Maduro himself or the aircraft Owner.

Details at this time are sketchy, but above are the basic facts as they are understood at this hour. 1:34 PM EDT Monday, September 2, 2024.

95% of all daily transactions done with Alipay or WeChat pay. Started to change 10–15 years ago. If you use cash, you get strange looks.

Everything is done this way. Public transport, Didi (like Uber),food delivery, restaurants, street vendors….

25 Facts That Will Ruin Your Childhood

Remember the “2008 Great Financial Crisis?” That was then . . . . this is now:

Remember the &quot;2008 Great Financial Crisis?&quot; That was then . . . . this is now:

Almost every adult recalls the 2008 “Great Financial Crisis” when Bear Stearns, AIG, Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch, and others collapsed. The Chart from FDIC shows that period above.   That was then . . . . . . . . THIS is now:

From the FDIC:

FDIC 2008 VS NOW
FDIC 2008 VS NOW

 

How much longer this can go on is anyone’s guess.  It seems to me, as an unqualified Layman who is not a Licensed Financial Expert, and who cannot give financial advice, that this is an utter catastrophe actually taking place.

In my personal (unqualified) opinion, when it finally causes a collapse . . . . the collapse is going to wipe out everything!

Now you know why they seem to be trying so hard to cause World War 3.   They need it to blame the coming collapse on!

If the collapse takes place without World War 3, then THEY get (rightly) blamed instead of being able to blame “the war.”

Maybe the reason the uber-wealthy are building underground shelters for themselves is not to protect them from World War 3, but instead, to protect them from the masses, who will be wiped-out when the Banker shenanigans wipes out the system and everyone loses everything.

Whatever they’re going to do, it seems to me they have to do it before the election.

I earnestly hope you have emergency food, water, medicines you need to live on, a generator, fuel for it, communications gear like CB or HAM radio, flashlights, first-aid kits, CASH MONEY stashed outside a bank in a place where YOU can get to it.  If you don’t have these things, what will you do when the whole thing comes crashing down?

Get what you can, now, before the SHTF.  People who do not prepare now, will be S.O.L. later.

Disturbing Last Found Footage of Missing Persons

I remember a particular case that has stayed with me through the years. As a nurse, you come across all sorts of situations, but this one left a mark not because of the physical state of the patient, but because of what it taught me about humanity.

I was working a late shift when a man in his mid-50s was admitted to the ER. He was homeless, had been living on the streets for years, and it showed. His body was covered in layers of dirt, and there were signs of severe neglect. He smelled of sweat, urine, and the streets—a stench so strong that it seemed to cling to the walls of the room. His skin was marred with sores and old wounds, some infected, and there was an overall sense of decay. To say he was “gross” would be an understatement, and I could see the discomfort in the eyes of the younger staff.

But here’s the thing: when I looked into his eyes, I saw fear, pain, and an overwhelming sense of shame. He was a human being who had fallen through every crack in the system, and he was acutely aware of how he appeared to us. He avoided eye contact, probably expecting to be treated like the outcast he felt he was.

As I approached him, I knew I had a choice. I could distance myself, do the bare minimum, and move on. But I didn’t. I took his hand, and though he flinched at first, I held on. I spoke to him gently, reassuring him that he was safe now. With each word, I could see a bit of the tension leave his body. And as I began to clean his wounds, the disgust I initially felt was replaced by a deep sense of empathy. Here was a man who had been stripped of his dignity by life, and in that moment, my touch wasn’t just a medical necessity—it was an act of kindness, a way to tell him that he was still worthy of care, of compassion.

It took time, but as we worked on getting him cleaned up and treated, he began to open up, telling us bits and pieces of his story. He was someone’s son, had once been a father and a husband, and life had simply been too cruel for him to bear.

That night, I was reminded that behind every “gross” patient is a story, a life that deserves to be honored. And sometimes, the most challenging patients are the ones who need us the most—not just for their physical wounds, but for the scars that run much deeper.

In the end, what matters isn’t how clean or dirty someone is. It’s about the humanity we share and the simple, yet profound, power of touch, empathy, and understanding.

Hoarders.

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

Ben Ebert

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.
Flashing red lights and a powerful echoing siren around the entire ship. Blood ran along their arm and down to their fingertips, and they looked at me with such hate. “ Are you weak?”“Absolutely, I am weak…”-Before.They looked at me for answers from their different control chairs. The vessel floated rather silently through space. The five of us have spent every day for the last eleven months together. sent on a mission to collect resources from around every corner of the universe.Eleven months reaping food, metal, water, and every mineral of resource we could, guided by the stars and the powers that be, sending us directions and only returning when were full. All in the name of the Federation, so the Fed could become the biggest superpower in the known universe.“What are we going to do?” Robin my navigator sternly asked me. My crew glared, hoping I would have some answer, some emergency help. The rectangle-shaped bridge lit up with the blue and orange glows of the different computers at each of my crew’s workstations.  I reached for my servatium, but the pill bottle had run empty. It’s just what I needed at this time. It kept us relaxed and a little lucid while dealing with all the stress and madness that comes with being a star hoarder. I looked at all of the stars outside of the large oval window that wrapped around the front of the cockpit. Unlimited potential through the window and we were doomed to die from oxygen poisoning, as our life support systems had shit the bed in a really bad way, and I didn’t know why. This day had felt like a nightmare. I nodded to my crew who had waited too long for an answer.“ We have several hours of life support left, and three new star systems in range, there is a chance we could find somewhere, a planet that supports us for a day or two.” It was not the answer the crew was looking for. Jacobs, my Medic, the man of the people threw up his hands and shook his head.“ We get air, make some repairs, contact the Fed” I continued, trying to come up with something that at least sounded hopeful and like I had any idea how I could solve this.“ We should head back to the Federation.” Barnes the engineer noted. Some of the crew waited for an answer, but my navigator already knew. She tapped her feet and chewed at her nails. Her brown eyes widened as the crew looked at her.“ Fourteen, fourteen hours away is the nearest fed base, and that’s at full speed ” She mutteredIt was then that my chemist, dam emotional guy dropped on the floor and started to have a bit of a panic attack. It’s how they all felt, but I couldn’t do that. I tried to stand tall and firm like it was just another Tuesday or this mining craft. This craft that’s sent to scout the stars for resources. It’s a high-paid job, one of the only that’s left for people who aren’t born with a silver spatula up their rectum left. A long tradition of engineers scouring the stars to see what we can muster up from planets. For about as long as this job has lasted there’s been stories of people all over disappearing into unknown star systems, ghost stories of our first contact with aliens not going well – but this, this is something else.A halted cough from our chemist, my least favorite member of this motley crew.“So youre plan, and correct me if im wrong is to keep doing what we are doing, knowing that we will probably perish in about nine hours?” Chemist, botanist, geologist, all those degrees I guess it didn’t teach him any people skills.“No,” I announce as I walk through the bridge to the star map. A large square sat centrally on the bridge. I wave my hand over the golden sand dial to illuminate it. a cluster of stars appeared as holograms in front of us, painting us in a blue hue. I put my finger slightly in the sand and I felt the connecting bio-tissue tickle at my finger.“ This is our current destination,” I announced. The map zoomed quickly to a cluster of stars that shone brighter than the rest. A black line showed the jump point to the next galaxy.“But bear with me.”

I pinched the electric sand and twisted it. The holograms sped to another cluster of stars. I reached in the air and pressed invisible buttons, to show a projection over the holograms.

“ This galaxy has at least four different jump points that are clustered together.  We redirect here immediately. This way we can access the most galaxies and planets as quickly as possible.”

“4.78 percent.” My navigator chirped up exactly when I didn’t want her to.

“4.78 of planets across the universe are at least slightly habitable to us.”

Sad sighs escaped the crew’s throats.

“ Then we’ll beat the odds,” I announced, pushing a hopeful smirk on my lips.

I turned and started walking away.

“Let’s make it happen people!” I yelled into the air.

I marched along the bridge to the hallways, this ship was large enough to hold a few secrets. Eleven months we’ve been sent out to the far reaches of the universe, eleven months and I felt like I knew these people so well.  They should have felt like family. I couldn’t help erasing the feeling, that there were thoughts they hid from me. The ravaging of planets for rich folk who don’t give a fuck about us is sure to take a toll. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there could be enemies among my crew.

I walk past the crew quarters. I felt the pull of my quarters, my little sanctuary from these people. I just wanted a second in it. I might have found some Servitium to take the blinding worry away. This is the least sedated I’ve felt in a long time, my head doesn’t feel as cloudy though. As I got closer to my door, just across from it Robin’s my Navigator’s door smacked against something hard, making a jittering, creak.

As I got closer I noticed the smell of copper, before I saw the bloodstains coming from the body of the ship’s cat Goliath. I reeled from it for a moment but I had to step into Robin’s room. It was then that I started to realize what had happened.

Behind Robins’ bed, just like all of ours, is the blue-winged eagle of the federation marker and the letters G.F. A for ‘Galactic Federation Alliance’

Written in Goliath’s blood over the insignia is ‘ Thieving Federation Genocide Alliance, and T.F.G.A’, and a single picture of the remnants of a planet we gutted. I knew which one instantly, Tac 17, the holograph read ‘signs of early life’… but we had orders. A quota to reach.

My stomach urges me to vomit, but I do the breathing exercises the Fed doctor told me. I wanted to keep in control, for a second I looked for Robin’s Servitium, but stopped myself and left her room.

I think about going back to the bridge and telling my crew, but I have more pressing matters. I touch my wristband, putting one finger on the bottom side, one just above it, and one on the left side of my wrist.

“Barnes. Meet me by the engine.”

The life support and maintenance system screens were flashing red by the engine. A light occasionally spun around the room with a quiet alarm.

“Sabotage? Really cap?” Barnes gasped at me.

I didn’t know if that was bad acting or if I  genuinely shocked him.

“What else could it be?” I asked him.

He stepped back, rolled his eyes, and threw out his hands.

“ I got to tell ya, the others aren’t going to be happy with you throwing around this kind of accusation.” Barnes looked over the engine again briefly and paced a little around the engine.

“ Who would it be, why would someone intentionally do this…Maybe, the cat got in it. messed up the wiring.”

“So not the cat,” Barnes muttered as I showed him the grave of Goliath, his mouth almost planted on the floor.

From my uni band, the voice of Robin announced.

“ We’ve arrived at c37.”

The whole crew stared at the holograph of the surface of the planet as I moved it around, zooming in briefly to see mountains and ridges, but the planet was mostly desert.

As I scanned through the planet, the sighs got louder and louder. I stopped looking at the barren planet when the hologram showed letters in red. ‘low CO2 levels’

We were quickly able to jump to the next planet. The crew watched in silence as Robin and I directed the next above a planet that was blue and filled with ice.

Scanning all of the planet, it was clear to see just sheets of ice and water. Quick quiet muttered erupted within my crew.

“Nowhere to land,” I muttered to my crew sadly.

I glanced over them, wondering how many people knew about Goliath’s body.

Robin took my hand and yanked me tightly to the side and behind one of the computers.

“ What are we doing? And don’t tell me what you told the crew. There’s only a 6.7 percent chance of us finding a planet.” She whispered.

“Why has It gone up?” I asked.

“It’s your plan, I recalculated, these star systems are denser than I expected.”

“ Why would someone do this?” I asked her directly, cutting her off She nodded slowly.

“So it is sabotage. We figured that was possible.”

The other three members of the crew were noticing our conversation.

“The problem is, only Barnes or you could sabotage the engine.” Her eyes turned sharp, and her hand drifted to her belt, which held a few things she could stab or hit me with.

I waved her towards me so she would follow me.

“No, no, not Goliath.” She whispered as a tear fell from her eye.

“ I doubt you would do this,” I admitted. My eyes fluttered as the withdrawal started to creep in. I held onto the wall, my body shaking a little, everything was so visceral and real like someone had dropped over my eyes the perfect glasses to see clearly.

Robin looked me from over, from head to toe.

“You’re not going to faint are you?”

I shook my head, and closed my eyes for a second, trying to make the world shake less.

“I can’t find my servitium. This would have been a whole lot easier to deal with if I had some.” I smirked at her.

“I’m sure I have some more around here somewhere, heard it’s good to have a break from it once in a while though.” She explained as she looked through her cupboards.

“You’re right. Actually, It’s a lot clearer without it.” I grabbed her throat and shoved her against the wall. My multitool already on its blade setting, I stabbed her quickly and deeply in the neck. Her eyes faded instantly.

Three more to go.

To the demise of the Federation, I walk. I have for a while, but just couldn’t remember when I was lit up with that trash drug, they give us to keep us willing and docile.

The ship was hovering over another planet.

“Wait a minute.” I hear the medic shout out. He always had some guilt about the planets we take from, Perhaps he can help me deal with what’s left to do.

The three left looked at the holographic table. Barnes smiled gleefully. The Chemist that putrid planet sucker. Wouldn’t be surprised if he had a degree in genocide. He moved the bioelectric sand over the planet and they watched hopefully.

A holographic sign reads ‘ breathable air’ The planet is lush oceans and islands with forests floating in the sky.

“I can’t believe it,” Barnes shouted and smiled at me, as I approached.

I tapped the chemist lightly on the shoulder playfully and nodded along. Three of them, one of me. They weren’t good odds, but the clock was ticking with them finding a habitable planet.  I took out my multitool and planted the blade in the middle of the chemist’s back.

Jacob and Barnes screamed and ran in different directions, and the chemist, just sat there shocked for a few seconds with a hole in his back.

“ This has to stop! The federation has to be put to an end. I only remembered once I withdrew from their control drug. We are docile slaves committing horrific acts. We wipe out entire planets, and potential races for what, so that our people are the richest, so we have control over the universe. It’s a joke.” I announced into the bridge.

Disappointment was the biggest emotion I felt from my remaining crew as they stayed silent.

“Im not looking to kill you, I am looking to go against them. The federation, if you agree to just take a moment and hear me out this can stop.” I waited but again not a sound in return. I had my answer.

The red flashlights started spinning around the ship, a thumping alarm, and I knew they were trying to sneak into an escape pod.

They saw me as I approached the pod “We are just going to go. You won’t see us again.” Jacobs announced, both of them sweating profusely, their eyes full of terror.  Jacobs’s hand was near the large red eject button.

“You don’t have to do this. C’mon, boss man, this isn’t you, put the blade down” Barnes announced, trying to hide his shaking fear and smile warmly at me.

I put one foot in the pod and kept my blade out to them.

“You’ll both understand me in a day or two, once you’re fully withdrawn from servatium like I am… It lies to you, it made everything hazy. I understand why you would react this way. But trust me, you’ll understand why I did this” I explained. Their hands raised. Their eyes still darting to the escape button every other second.

“Put your hands down. Say you understand. Say I don’t have to do this.” I shook a little myself as I demanded from them. A tear fell from my eye. My hand briefly dropped.

Jacobs charged at me, knocking us back against the floor of the escape pod. The blade landed in his neck. He tried and failed to catch his breath, at least it was quick. I pushed him to the side as Barnes came down and beat his fist against my face a couple of times. I grabbed his hand as he came for a third.

I swung the blade towards him as I regained my posture, he flinched back and he fell into one of the seats.

“ He made me do that. I didn’t want to, but this has to stop. They make us dumb and docile, so we’d follow whatever their orders are.” His eyes just swelled with terror.

“Are you this weak?” he asked as he tried to stand against me.

“ Yes, Absolutely I am this weak… I can’t serve them with a clear head” I announced to him.

It went just like before, how I wanted to avoid it. But I guess it had to go this way. I sailed down on the escape pod to the planet with Barnes as he took his last breath. Now I wait on the shore of a floating beach, all the beauty in the galaxy, birds and fish that I’ve never seen. Floating jungles and mile-long waterfalls, the beauty puts a smile on my lips for a moment.  I wait for the enemy to rescue me, I wait to pretend to be one of them again, I wait for my chance to strike again, maybe this time it’ll make a difference.

Once upon a time I was working for a large company in the automotive industry. We were a Tier One supplier of a company whose name everyone would know.

The company suffered from fractured management with strict silo mentality.

Sales didn’t communicate with Engineering, which didn’t communicate with Quality, which didn’t communicate with Production. None communicated with the Finance trolls (me).

Every day was misery.

I worked an average of 10 hours doing what I called “Spreadsheet Space Invaders”, preparing analysis after analysis for managers who refused to be the one to actually make a decision.

They always felt if they had just one more analysis, that would give them the answer to their question.

But since all of them were cowards, no one would made a decision. Then, it was back to Finance to give them more data.

I’d managed to survive there for 15 years mainly because I had a very ill spouse and we couldn’t survive without the insurance.

I’d out lived the entire management team at the plant level twice over. Meaning I’d served three plant managers, two quality managers, three HR managers, and two engineering managers.

I reported to a boss at the home office in Detroit but I was local at the plant in Pennsylvania.

We had only one customer, a big automotive manufacturer and only one contract with that company.

We always started negotiating the next contract in August in hopes we’d have something finalized by January.

Some years, we didn’t have the Final, Final, by God it’s FINAL contract until February, which meant I had to sorta guess how to manage January.

Between August and the by God it’s FINAL contract could be up to 100 revisions.

Each revision required (1) the customer to request something (2) Sales to inform Engineering (3) Engineering to engineer it (4) Finance to cost the engineering spec (5) Sales to develop a price based on the financial numbers and (6) a presentation to the customer, who would then change their minds. Rinse and repeat.

This process kept me redoing spreadsheets over and over for about 6 months.

Many many times, one of the links in the chain would break and Engineering didn’t know it needed to update its drawings, or Finance didn’t know the costs needed to be changed, or Sales didn’t inform Production to add lines.

It was a circus of miscommunication, not eased by the fact that Sales and Corp Finance were based in Detroit, but the rest of us were based in PA.

One year, in the summer, after we’d been operating under the current contract (negotiated between Aug of the prior year and Feb of the current year) my boss wanted an analysis of it for some reason.

I sent him an analysis based on the by God it’s FINAL version.

He flipped out. Asked me in an IM in all caps how could I not know my contract?

Confused, I asked him what he thought the contract was (remember, I and the customer had been happily working together for about 7 months on what we both thought the current contract was).

My boss pulled out a contract from the prior October.

It was revision 6.

We’d moved all the way to revision 57 by the time we’d gotten to by God it’s FINAL.

I informed him of that and showed where he and I had communicated numerous times about all the revisions that had occurred after October.

He swore at me in the IM and demanded to know how could I have let him present revision 6 to the board of directors when it was wrong?

I told him, it wasn’t wrong at that time, but that numerous changes had occurred after it.

I informed him that I’d sent him each change every time one happened and he furthermore had access to all my work files at all times.

He continued to go off on me about how I was an idiot.

I had the wrong contract. I’d been billing the customer wrong (and filing incorrect financial reports for 6 months) that no one noticed was wrong (because it wasn’t) and yada yada yada.

Meanwhile, two days before this IM “conversation”, I’d received notification from a publisher that one of my sci fi novels had been accepted for publication and a second publisher informed that another novel had been accepted the very next day.

I had two publication contracts pending.

WTF was I doing dealing with this tool?

Right there, as he was screaming at me in all caps on the IM I informed him he could consider this my resignation.

I shut down the computer, collected my stuff, and headed to HR to turn in my key card and phone.

She looked at me sadly and said “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

I walked out of there without notice or informing anyone except HR.

At that point, my wife had died and in a sense I was free of the fear of no insurance.

Obamacare had also arrived, so I knew I could draw on that.

I haven’t missed one day since.

Oh, I’ve got one.

I was driving to pick my daughter up from elementary school. There’s a school zone for a couple of blocks around the school, so I was going about 15 mph. The car behind me was very unhappy with this speed and was tailgating me so badly I was sure he was going to hit me. I just kept my eyes ahead and hoped for the best as we approached a stop sign right in front of the school. As I came to a stop, he swerved out from behind me and pulled around my car, into the crosswalk, running the stop sign, and when he went to get back into the right lane, he hit the side of my car.

We both pulled over. As I got out of the car, he said to me, “Are you stupid?” My jaw dropped open, and I said, “ME?” And that was the last exchange between us, because two school parents who had seen the accident had run up and started yelling at him. One of the dads was VERY upset (had this happened six minutes later, there would have been children in the crosswalk), and things were getting out of control, so I called the cops to come quiet things down.

The police arrived and kept an eye on things while we waited for the accident investigator. When the investigator arrived, the other driver told him I had slammed on my brakes, and he had swerved around me to avoid hitting me, and then when he was trying to get back in the lane, I started moving, and I hit his car.

The accident investigator told him the accident couldn’t have happened that way, because the damage was on the side of my car. Apparently, if I had hit him, the damage would be on the front of my car.

The guy argued and argued, and finally the investigator told him to get a couple of Tonka trucks and try it out. The guy kept insisting I had slammed on my brakes, to which the investigator finally replied, “Then I guess you were following too close.”

Two days later, the guy’s insurance company called me to get my side. Apparently, he had told them I was stopped at the stop sign for 10 seconds, and when he finally pulled around me, I started moving and hit his car. I guess that one didn’t work either, because his insurance covered the damage to my car.

I later found out the investigator had cited the driver for careless driving (lots of points on the license), had made the guy’s court appearance mandatory, and recommended to the judge the citation be raised to reckless driving (LOTS of points). I never found out what happened.

A removal of nature to create a parking lot

According to Chinese economists and strategies. Here is what they have observed during the cold war. In order to gain those so called allies, the US gave out a huge amount of aid to western Europe, known as the marshall plan. In order to compete with America, the USSR offered something similar to eastern Europe but only half as impressive. In the Soviet camp, eastern Europe weren’t happy became they got less aid and poorer than their neighbors. Russia itself wasn’t happy because it kept giving out aid, and cheap oils, resulted in huge internal debt. And finally their people couldn’t take it, and dissolved the USSR. The only ones that were happy at the time, were Vietnam, NK, and maybe India.

The USA wasn’t in a better position, they had lost all their traditional industries to Japan and western Europe. If it wasn’t for the new industries they invented, the USA would be done in the 90s, losing to Japan and Europe. So stop saying that China had stolen jobs from the America, the US had lost those jobs a long time ago. The cold war was a death race, the US is still hurting from it.

What was China’s conclusion? Only inclusive naturally developed trade relationship can benefit both sides. In other words, China aren’t going to pay for allies, that’s prostitution. So, how does China deal with the gigantic alliance structure of the US? Let me use Australia as an example, China Australia trade is almost 350B per year. In order for Australia to side with the US completely(not just verbally) against China, the US would have to compensate for their lost. So, China not only benefited from the trade with Australia, but also increase the cost for the US to maintain their alliance structure. That’s why you saw the US can only afford to pay country like the Philippines to confront China. China doesn’t pay any country to side with it political and militarily, it wants the US to pay more maintaining their alliances.

The US can’t even relocate TSMC from Taiwan back to the US and create some high quality jobs, because if they do that, Taiwan’s only economic relationship with the US would be gone.

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What If You Landed on Kepler 22-B?

I grew up in rural areas. I learned to shoot when I was 7. I then went to college, and met my wife who lived in a nearby town with her parents while attending college. I have always been the type who doesn’t make much bravado out of being able to defend myself. I don’t really want to hurt anybody, but I will hurt anybody who threatens my family.

My in-laws managed to check nearly every one of Jeff Foxworthy’s you might be a redneck. Somehow in a town of 30,000 they lived off the pavement and down a dirt road. Father-in-laws camper shell had more curtains than their home.

My future in-laws got it into their heads I was a soft college boy. It might be because I always dressed up to pick up their daughter for dates. It might be because at 6′2″ and 240 lbs much of it muscle at the time, I was cautious with my strength. It might be because I didn’t drink or cuss. Never mind I had relatives on my Mom’s side almost just like them, grew up in the country, shot coyotes attacking livestock, bucked hay, worked on ranches, worked in a feed store, and worked in a lumber mill.

After my future father-in-law said if he saw me around again I better be able to outrun buckshot, we eloped. This led to about a few months of drunken threatening messages left on our answering machine.

Eventually two things thawed the relationship a bit. One was my mother-in-laws gambling addiction, and need a babysitter. My wife’s over a decade younger sibling couldn’t be left alone without making a disaster when mother-in-law went gambling. The other was learning we were expecting their first grandchild.

My Father-in-law decided I need to learn how to shoot to protect his future grandchild. He asked if I had ever shot a firearm. My answer was, “Some” and didn’t elaborate. He had me drive his truck (had he driven he would probably have got a DUI) out to BLM land. He took the 6 cans he had finished off and lined them up on Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land, and handed me a handgun. I forget exactly what it was but it was a very small pistol and I forget what it was chambered in. It wasn’t .22 LR, but might have been .25 ACP. This was in 1994. I shot the first 4 cans no problem. When I shot the 5th can it knocked over the 6th can so the top was facing us. I shot it, and he immediately said I missed one. I said I didn’t think so. He picked it up and I had shot it through the opening in the top of the can. I could not have hit there if I had tried, but it still impressed him. (A firearm I had never fired before, with unknown ammunition, tiny pocket pistol, at about 20 feet/6 meters).

Later that evening he was drunk came at me swinging. I put him in a bear hug, told him I didn’t want to hurt him, and placed him on the lawn. He got back up swinging. I did the same thing again except instead of setting him down I tossed him a few feet onto the lawn. The next day he said, “I guess you can protect my daughter and grandchild.”

All about Cottages

Maybe too many are too cutesy. Still, the more plain ones are more suitable for myself. Real and actual historical cottages, especially those from the Victorian era, were awesome.

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Proof Egyptians Didn’t Build The Pyramids?

Utterly divided.

A person doesn’t have to have a degree in politics to see how divided and tribalistic America has become recently. I honestly don’t think we’ve been this separate as a country since the Civil War.

People have fallen for the “if you’re not 100% for us, then you’re 100% against us” mentality. You can see this on either side of the aisle. To be clear, I’m not demonizing either major American political party here. I’m condemning them. There’s this one quote from a fella you might know about by the name of Abraham Lincoln: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” While Lincoln was referring to slave states versus free states, I am using his quote to refer to Republicans versus Democrats.

With division, comes bloodshed. We’ve seen it with slavery vs. freedom, Christian vs. Muslim, Protestant vs. Catholic, Communist vs. Capitalist, white vs. black, and I think that soon we’ll start to see Democrat vs. Republican.

Your CAT Manifested YOU | SECRET Spiritual SIGNIFICANCE of Cats

A broken-down mess.

A perhaps once great nation struggling with a dysfunctional political system: only two significant parties, completely reliant on the availability of big bucks (with inevitable consequences, bearing in mind where those bucks come from) and which has slipped into the new Post-truth era with hardly a squeak of protest. (Certainly there have been more than murmurings of dissent among intellectuals and some journalists, but no groundswell of disgust or mass revolt.)

Also a country that likes to hide its woes. It likes to be seen as the wealthiest in the world, as the ‘land of opportunity’ – and yet forty percent of households could not meet an unexpected bill of $400 without having to sell something or borrow.

To those who complacently trot out platitudes like ‘it’s the greatest country in the world’, I’d say, first ‘open your eyes!’ and second: ‘if you want it to be, do something to make it so…’

In many ways there are echoes of this in my own stricken country, the UK, which also has a dysfunctional democracy and too many who want to live on past glories (real or imagined) and put their faith in a lying bunch of shysters who they imagine will lead them back to those halcyon days. (The pro-Brexit rhetoric really did include references to ‘sunlit uplands’, crudely parodying one of Churchill’s wartime speeches. ) They have a rude awakening in store. Those of us who don’t share the dream are already all too aware of the grim reality – actual and pending.

This is a US government affiliated channel. So the fact that this is public says A LOT.

This is a story that, until now, I have only told a handful of people. And I have been typing it with tears in my eyes all the way through.

It happened six and a half year ago. I just turned 21 at the time and was in my second year of college. My mother had battled breast cancer for a short eight months when the doctor told us there was nothing left they could do. She would die, too young, after an eventful life.

About three weeks after hearing this, and approximately two weeks before she would eventually die, we were sitting in her hospital room talking about life and everything that had happened. It was here, quite unannounced and rather casually, that she made a statement which I still repeat to myself at least once a week. That statement got me through the first years of mourning; I clung onto it. I still often repeat it to friends and family around me when they are facing adversity. You could say it has become my life motto.

The context of this statement goes back to before my mother was even born in 1949, in the Netherlands. My grandparents had three kids: two sons and a daughter. My grandfather was a pastor and, also considering it was early post-war time, they were just getting by. My grandmother was a dominant and strict woman, and she laid down the law at home. As the family was barely getting by with three children and didn’t want any more, my grandmother decided to get sterilized. The doctor provided her with a hormone treatment; however, instead of becoming sterile, the treatment caused my grandmother to become extremely fertile. She soon became pregnant and gave birth nine months later to triplets, a boy and two girls — my mother was born. During my mother’s youth, my grandmother made no secret of the fact that my mother was an unwanted child. My mother obviously felt left out by my grandmother and grandfather, who let it all happen. My mother left her parents’ house still a teenager.

In the years to come, my mother started making a living for herself as a caretaker for elderly and disabled people. Still struggling with her ‘unfair’ youth, she did maintain a very good relationship with her older brothers and sister. In her late 20s, she met my father. They started dating and eventually got married. My mother desperately wanted to have children and create a happy family, so they started trying. It took a lot of time, and two failed pregnancies, but eventually she did get pregnant with my older sister. She was soon told the baby had a severe form of Cystic Fibrosis (CF), a genetic disorder, which meant she would die a young age. After a long time of trying, and failing, to become pregnant, this was a major shock for both my parents. My sister was in the hospital for the entire first year of her life and had to spend several weeks each year in the hospital for treatment. Taking care of a young child is hard for young parents, but this is especially the case when the young child is chronically ill and needs multiple treatments a day. My parents put their teeth in it and got by and, eventually, even started trying to get pregnant again. And they did! But then the heartbreaking message came: this baby had a severe form of CF, too. Raising two children with severe forms of CF would inevitably mean that one of the two would have to witness the other become weaker and weaker, until death followed, knowing that he/she too will one day become that weak and die at a too-young age. My parents dreaded this future and took the hardest decision of their lives: to have an abortion, to protect both children from the added psychological drama. Not long after this, my parents decided to adopt a child, a girl with little opportunity in her own country, Poland, as she was an orphan with a mental disability. However joyful this appeared at the start, the mental disability proved too severe for the girl to be raised in a regular home, and she was taken away within a year.

And then I was born. Healthy. It wasn’t a particularly easy birth; I was quite big and heavy, causing my birth almost to take my mother’s life, but eventually everyone was fine. A little less than three years later, my younger brother was born, also healthy as could be. My mother finally had her happy little family as she had always wanted, and as she had tried for so long. I believe those were some of the happiest moments of her life.

But of course, my sister was still chronically ill. She would be in and out of the hospital each year, which mostly was only for a few days or weeks, until one year it became really bad. My sister had already been in the hospital for many weeks, longer than usual, when she was allowed a week of ‘holiday’ in France. She was so excited to go, but only a few days after her arrival she became extremely ill, vomiting blood in her bed. She was taken to the local hospital and eventually flown by helicopter to the hospital in Bordeaux. It turned out her organs had started to fail and she needed a new liver to survive. She was flown to the Netherlands and put on a waiting list for a transplant. However, this took too long and my sister soon became weaker. She died in the hospital at age 13.

Remember how as a young child your parents seemed like superheroes? The strongest people in the world, who could take on anything?

I remember this moment as the first time I saw my parents absolutely broken. I remember that at the funeral my mother could hardly stand on her feet, and people had to support her as she kept collapsing in tears. She was devastated. In the period that followed, things did not get easier for my mother. Her older sister, with whom she had a very good relationship, died of breast cancer following a short sickbed. Not much later, her oldest brother died of the consequences of being an alcoholic. Following, her brother from the triplets was left by his wife, and shortly thereafter died from a heart attack, also as a consequence of his alcohol abuse. The aftermath of the death of so many loved ones was a number of family arguments over whose fault it was that her brothers became alcoholics, and how the inheritance should be divided. The adversity seemed to never stop.

But then it did. Some five happy, carefree years followed. I saw my mother become happier and happier. She started to work again, which she had stopped during my sister’s illness, and she enjoyed it. She was active in the church community in our town, she enjoyed tennis, and she had a lot of friends. It all seemed to turn for the better. But then…

Cancer.

Unlike what you might think, we went into this really positively. You know why? Because we believed we, and especially my mother, had already received our portion of adversity. This would be our time, we were going to conquer this disease. We even organized a big party when my mother was halfway through her chemotherapy because we were halfway to beating this disease! The tumor became smaller, there seemed to be no metastases, and operations were successful. We were almost there!

But, unfortunately, I would not be typing this post if that was how the story ended.

I received a call from my dad, early December. My mother was rushed to the hospital that night after falling in the kitchen. They had found a brain tumor, metastases in her lungs, and metastases in her bones. Even though it felt as if we had almost defeated the disease, there was nothing they could do for her any more. She would be in the hospital from that point on. To make matters worse, my father was hospitalized two weeks later for an emergency stomach operation. He was in the same hospital on the 6th floor, my mother was on the 8th. It was around Christmas and I would visit them every day. Most of the time, my mother was very confused due to the tumor pressing on her brain but, sometimes, she had a clear moment.

It was during one of these clear moments that I was sitting on her bed and we were talking about life and everything that had happened. We talked about my studies and what I would do, later in life, when she would not be around anymore. About how I would some day graduate, maybe get married. We talked about her youth, about her alcoholic brothers, about the failed pregnancies, about my sister. Even about the fact that it was so screwed up that she was living some of her last weeks, and exactly at that time my dad became hospitalized.

And it was at that time that she looked at me and said:

‘’You know what, actually I am glad about all the shit that happened to me in life. And a lot of shit díd happen. But all those harsh times, all the adversity, it has taught me to enjoy and cherish all the good things in life more intensely than I imagined possible. I am grateful for everything and everyone I had.’’

There you have it. She wasn’t happy despite adversity, no, she thanked adversity for making her enjoy everything and everyone. You hear that cancer? CF? Alcoholism? You ain’t got nothing on her, heck, you made her stronger. She díd conquer cancer, in her way, she conquered it all.

It has changed how I see everything around me since. From minor setbacks to freaking mountains of adversity, I always try to approach it with a smile on my face. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t pretend everything is okay when it is not, but I fight, I keep going, and I keep telling myself that, at the very worst, adversity is going to make me stronger. And you know what? I am as happy a person as I could be!

I hope my mother’s wise words might help some of you, like they have helped me and still help me every day.

In loving memory of my mother: you won’t be gone until you’re forgotten.

The Godfather 1 ♦ “Dont ever take sides with anyone against the family again”

Chinese leaders changed to western clothing as a matter of protocol.

There are many research studies to back this up and we can see it in applications as well.

IBM salesman (no women in those days) wore a suit with a white shirt and classic tie. That was the dress code.

Sales dramatically improved.

Traditionally salesman wore sports coat and trousers. So the IBM look made them look like a businessman not a salesperson. They were talking to peers when they made their calls.

In his book Dress for Success, the author John Molloy conducted studies using different clothing. He sent people to offices to deliver a small package. If they dressed in a sports jacket and trousers,the receptionist always said leave it with me. If they were dressed in a suit with a shirt and tie, they would be told to knock on the door and give it to the executive or they call him to come out and get the package.

Chinese are very pragmatic.

They use whatever works.

Dressing in white shirt and tie with a tailored suit means you at the same level as your counterpart. When you meet the president of the US, you dress like him.

Interestingly though is Xi Jinping’s wife who dresses in traditional Chinese attire when she accompanies him on state visits.

My GF Insisted On Taking A 1 Week Break, So I Slept With Her Coworker & Dumped Her When She Returned

Jerry Springer type nonsense. *sheech*

I palm-slap myself for the craziness in the West.

Bought in as a contractor/programmer to work on an in-house system that they wanted to modify.

“Its the best system – its in C++, so its really fast”

No probs, I can work on that.

Get in there, day 1 – nice big factory, decent office space, lots of nice cars in the carpark. Get myself all setup on the system, meet the other programmer (just 1 developer in the whole company … hmmm)

Me > “OK, account is all setup, setup dev tools, meet the manager, discussed the general plan …. ready to start reading. Where is the code?”

OtherProgrammer > “?”

Me > “The source code. The C++ code ?”

OtherProgrammer > “Oh, we dont have the source code”

Me > “??”

Me > “This is an in-house system, right ? The thing you want to modify, you own it right ?”

OtherProgrammer > “Yes, its an in house system, we own it, its all ours”

Me > “and the code ?”

OtherProgrammer > “Oh I see what you mean. Yeah, that was all written by another contractor. He isnt here anymore”

Me > “did he …. leave any code by any chance ?”

OtherProgrammer > “No, we didnt pay him in the end, so he didnt give us the code”

…. at which point, I had a lot more questions than I knew I would ever get answers for. By the end of the week, I had managed to get out of that initial project and work on a different project they had on the go, so the billable hours could be justified still.

Same problem though – they had “another contractor” offsite who was working on something entirely different that was pretty interesting. So I started working on some infrastructure around that instead. It was some cool stuff the other guy was building, was going to be fun.

And it meant I didnt have to deal with their one and only full time “Developer” that worked there somehow without any source code, and the obviously clueless engineering manager was none the wiser about why this was sub optimal.

… Until one day, he suggested I dont get too involved in that other project either.

Me > “Oh, why’s that ? whats wrong with project ?”

OtherProgrammer > “Nothing, he is doing great work”

Me > “?”

OtherProgrammer > “But we have decided that we are not going to pay him for it <big smile>”

… just like that ! Quite out in the open about it. Bragging about how clever they are, they can get work done by honest people, and still manage to weasel their way out of having to pay for it.

So Clever, and proud of it too.

See ya later, idiots !

(in case you are wondering – yeah, I got my billed hours paid …. eventually … every last cent)

That’s incorrect framing.

America has pursued global hegemony since the fall of the Berlin wall, going so far to embrace the “end of history and the last man”.

What is global hegemony? Dominance over ALL states and peoples.

That means beating down all comers, and making examples of those who say no to the United States, as sheikh hasina found to great fluster and regret recently.

Unfortunately, 4% dominating over the 96% is a fool’s errand, as America finds itself drowning in debt, and having to deal with conflicts in the middle east and Europe, while following through on explicit policy to concentrate and expand military resources in the western pacific.

That’s untenable, and exhausting, not too different from the 50% drawdown of the SPR to cap runaway energy prices recently.

America is frittering away past reserves, burning its legacy rather than building for the future.

America is not behaving like a normal country, because it insists the rules do not apply.

China sees itself as a normal country, a member of the global citizenry. Normal countries respond vigorously to the militarization of their neighborhood, because sovereignty must be defended.

America is doomed to implode because even exceptionally engineered airliners drop out of the sky when they run out of fuel.

The Outlaw Josey Wales | The River Crossing | Warner Classics

A woman named Peng Shuais accused a leading Chinese Communist Party leader of Sexual harassment.

It’s now clear that Peng Shuais allegations were firmly investigated

main qimg 6c94efde827e75c1383a39e5d010f6e4
main qimg 6c94efde827e75c1383a39e5d010f6e4

In China, it’s crucial that Party officials don’t violate discipline otherwise they are fried

Since China doesn’t have Elections and Votes, Party officials need their reputation


Peng Shuai alleged that she was sexually harrassed

Had she reported this to 12345 citing anonymity

No problems

She published this on Social Media referring to a Party member by name

He was dumping her and she was pissed

However in China – Social Media is under the full view of the CENSOR

Automatically the posts garnered attention and the Censor stepped in

Peng was summoned by the Censor and asked

Do you have Evidence?

Why wait so long?

Meanwhile the Party member was hauled up by the Internal mechanism and he said they were in a relationship and he dumped her

Under Chinese Law, if the Censor hauls you up, your Internet Id doesn’t work for a few weeks or a month and you can’t login or send a message on weibo or even reply to mail (confused on this point)

This is China

So the Censor initiated a State Investigation and China has like millions of cameras

Soon they began to see Camera feeds

They saw Peng willingly laugh and hold hands, kiss, go to hotels and eat in restaurants like a favorite girlfriend for weeks and weeks

They presented her with evidence and she folded immediately and confessed that HE HAD DUMPED HER and she had got pissed

Thats that

From that minute on, she lost face and in China that’s bad


So now whether she is charged with lying on public media or not – Nobody knows

A few of my top ones include:

  • What do you call a black man in space? An astronaut.
  • How many men does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Three, one to screw it in and the other two to listen to him brag about screwing something.
  • A faster than light neutrino says ‘I’ll have a whisky’, sits down, then walks into a bar.
  • A woman is approached by a man in a suit, and a foot tall man carrying a miniature keyboard. The man in the suit says ‘I have a magic lamp here, with a genie in it. He’ll grant you a single wish, but be careful, he’s hard of hearing.’ The woman takes the lamp and says ‘I wish for a million bucks.’ All of a sudden the sky is blocked out by a million ducks flying overhead. ‘That’s not what I wished for’ the woman yells. The man replies ‘do you think I wished for a twelve inch pianist?’
  • A priest, a doctor, and a politician are kidnapped by an evil psychopath. The psychopath says ‘I’m going to get each of you to hold a snake for ten minutes, the most venomous snake in the world. If it doesn’t bite you, I’ll let you go. If you refuse, I’ll shoot you.’ The priest says a short prayer, kisses his cross, and holds the snake. It bites him, and he falls dead almost instantly. The doctor examines the snake, tries to find the best position to stop the snake being uncomfortable, and holds it. The snake bites her, and she falls over dead. The politician is last up, he just mutters ‘screw it’ and holds the snake. To his amazement, the snake stays still, it doesn’t bite him. He holds it for a full ten minutes, and is set free. He puts the snake in its box and takes it with him. As he leaves, feeling no small amount of Survivors guilt, he looks at the snake and says ‘I wonder why you killed that pious holy man and that great saviour of lives, but let me live.’ ‘Professional courtesy’ the snake replies.

US Property “$557 BILLION Bloodbath” – Final Chapter Of The Banking Collapse Is Here

China has not opened up? I’m pretty sure anyone holding that view has not visited China recently.

Go to Beijing or Shanghai or any other big Chinese city. You will find malls that look not much different from Hong Kong or Singapore. They may even be built and operated by conglomerates from these port cities. American fast food, French bags, Swiss watches. Whatever you want you can have. Markets as open as any major international city today.

As for liberalization, more than 150 million Chinese travel abroad each year. That is an astounding number, greater than the population of Japan. Just 40 years ago, the numbers were negligible. But the more incredible number is this: more than 150 million Chinese RETURN HOME. There are no reports of millions of Chinese refugees seeking asylum overseas.

On to human rights. China is behind Singapore in terms of rule of law, and trust in the government internationally. But Singapore still get routinely trashed for the death penalty, caning, inequality and other human rights abuses. We are a common law democracy but there are always murmurs if not shouts of dynastic politics, non-democracy, high political salaries and other evils.

We can never please the west because we are not the west.

China is changing.

Warp speed fast.

But please temper any judgment with the fact China started from a very low base. China was at war for the better part of 100 years from 1850 to 1949, half of it without a functional central government. Can you imagine 3 generations of anarchy and destruction? What do they call it, dystopia?

The current generation of Chinese youth enjoy far more freedoms and privileges than their parents did. The next will, too.

There was a guy that bullied me every day at high school. He was a confident, in-crowd guy, lots of plastic friends and always took the opportunity to make my life hell. He sabotaged my locker, bumped me in the hall when with his mates and he always had a smart alec comment to call out when I was presenting to the class or school. I responded the only way I thought I could which was to never pass him the ball during sport if we were on the same team, or if I was on an opposing team to tackle him as hard as possible. I didn’t have the confidence or the support network to help me through it, or the language to express myself to him.

I ran into him at a hardware store some 20 years after school. I had my 14 and 12 year olds with me and he had 3 kids, about 11, 9 and 7. He started with a gushing hello. He introduced me as a close friend from school. I looked at his kids, they looked nice enough. I was pleasant. I then whispered to him to come to the side out of earshot.

I was shaking with rage because the adrenaline kicked in so quickly, and the hurt and embarrassment he had caused me came flooding back. I told him that he was a real shit to me at high school and his kids looked like well adjusted human beings. I told him that unless he took his kids out of the store right now I would tell them what a nasty, horrible, vindictive shit of a person their dad was and he would have to explain why this guy he thought was a friend would say things like that about him.

He left with his kids. About 6 that evening he knocked on my door, and presented to me a bottle of wine and an apology for the pain he caused to me at school. He thanked me for not blasting his kids. His reason, his dad and older brothers did it to him and that is the way he thought you behaved. He had married a really nice lady who had educated him that friendships and relationships were not built by treating people like he had treated me. He had always worried about me and felt guilty. He always wanted to catch up and apologize. He and his wife knew that I would have crushed their kids if I had opened up on them at the store. I’m so glad I didn’t.

Some of the MM AI art examples

I continue with my experiments. Not too much of value.

It’s really like driving a tractor trailer rig though a maze inside of a mall. Crazy and sensitive.

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(5)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(5)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(2)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(2)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(2)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(2)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(1)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(1)

What a set of horns on his headpiece.

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(1)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(1)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(1)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(1)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(1)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(1)

I finally figured out how to add clothing to the people…

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3

But it only works part of the time…

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(5)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(5)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(5)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(5)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)

Some is impressive.

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(6)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(6)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(6)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(6)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(6)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(6)

Looks like they are taking selfies…

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 2(6)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 2(6)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(1)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 1(1)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(1)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 0(1)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(1)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3(1)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 2(1)
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 2(1)

Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3
Cinematic Kino Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic B 3

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(2)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(2)

 

The Bourne Ultimatum | It’s Jason Bourne

Stupid trolls.

While I was living in Japan, a clerk typed a wrong character on a document related to the public pension for an elderly couple. As a result their pension payments ceased. The elderly couple quietly starved to death in their apartment.

Of course, this was a huge scandal in Japan, and every neighborhood in the country began programs to check up on their neighborhood’s elderly residents at least once per week; have someone visit every residence every few days.

The point is that shit happens, but normal people (thus incomprehensible to you trolls) take action that has nothing to do with trying to overthrow the government. You stupid trolls only heard about someone dying of malnutrition in modern China because it was such an unusual and shocking occurrence for the Chinese people that they themselves were scandalized and chatting about it on social media. Nobody but fake NGO shit-stirrers and moronic western trolls are even remotely thinking about overthrowing the Chinese government because of it.

There may be local protests in China over the event, but protests there have a very different character than they do in western countries with capitalist fake democracy governments (ex: USA, Britain, France). Rather than sending out the goons with teargas and water canons, Chinese bureaucrats and municipal workers rush to the streets with their clipboards and interview the protesters to find out what the problems are and what they can do to make things right.

Yeah, the Chinese conception of democracy is completely beyond you Sinophobic trolls’ understanding. You stupid fools think “voting” every couple years for some useless meatbag (out of two or three options chosen for you by your capitalist overlords) who you know ahead of time will not even try to do what s/he promises, and whom you don’t like anyway, is “Democracy™”.

Stupid chumps.

There will be no “civil unrest” in China, at least not of the sort you moron trolls hope for. China’s government has even more popular support than Putin. It is untouchable by your retarded memes and narratives. The American and British governments are far more at risk of being toppled by their populations than is the Chinese government.

Posted by: William Gruff | Aug 29 2024 12:18 utc | 15

Before the coup in HK in 2019, HK was ranked 3rd in the world on the scale of freedom. USA was only 7th.

What makes (some) HKers think they have no freedom & must flee HK?

“HK has no freedom” is just a political slogan by USA+UK to brainwash HKers because USA+UK have been plotting to control HK government. It was a modern-day colonisation without occupying HK. That is all.

They were plotting to overthrow China’s regime. That is all. They tried many times. Xizang (Tibet in English) in 1959. Tiananmen in 1989. Xinjiang in 2009, HK in 2019. White Paper protest in 2022. Taiwan ongoing.

Some HKers did flee to UK. Now they find UK national security law is tighter than HK’s. ie they have less freedom in UK than in HK. They found UK police are tougher than HK.

They find out that “freedom is a political slogan only” in the hard way.

A comment regarding China

I find it really frustrating that people even paid trolls constantly fall for this BS about China. Most have never even been to Asia or if they have it is Phuket or Bali.

There they never actually spend time with locals just demand fresh towels.. On my walk this morning I was thinking about China and Taiwan and wondering why China does not just cut them off??

Most companies in Taiwan are connected to China most families in Taiwan are connected to the mainland with families, most flights coming and going from Taiwan go to China.

I suspect most money moves through China. Maybe that would be the plan if things heat up. My hope and belief is Taiwan does not really want this, and Taiwan is no longer the innovation center it was when we lived there. They have to know the US will use them and dump them just like Ukraine and Israel, Afghanistan, and all the other countries that the US. Dumps when they lose

Posted by: Susan | Aug 29 2024 14:39 utc | 22

Until women understand men have a thing called “she’s only bangable” chaos will ensue.

“Modern Women”.

This fiasco that women are going though is anything but laughable. People need to be more compassionate to each other.

Dollar General Stock Plunges 29% in ONE day

Dollar General Stock Plunges 29% in ONE day

The Canary in the Retail coal mine has just taken very, VERY, ill.   Dollar General, the retail chain that is found in almost every low income, urban, area, saw its stock price plunge 29.43% TODAY.

The company said publicly it is because its customers ‘feel worse off.’

Adding to investor concerns, Dollar General significantly lowered its full-year outlook, attributing part of the downgrade to the financial struggles of its core customer base.

The company noted that many of its customers “feel worse off,” reflecting the broader economic pressures affecting consumer spending. 

On Thursday afternoon, the stock was trading around $87.

 

Hal Turner Analysis

In many respects, Dollar General is a sort of Canary in the (retail) coal mine.   Years ago, Miners working deep underground, brought Canaries in cages with them for fear of natural gas, carbon monoxide, and a host of other deadly gases.  If the Canary passed-out, or dropped dead in the cage, the miners knew to evacuate the mine immediately because death was coming for the miners themselves if they didn’t leave immediately.

Dollar General has had good stock value and performance because their core customer base, the low-income folks, are in abundant supply.

Today, the Canary in the retail coal mine got noticeably sick and those with any brains, KNOW this is a major league, bad economic sign.

When the poor are SO POOR they can’t even afford to go to Dollar General, the economy is in a bad downward spiral. 

THAT is exactly the warning sign everyone got today, as Dollar General’s stock value plummeted 29.43% in ONE DAY.

Most of us have known for the better part of two years, things were not right.  E V E R Y T H I N G was suddenly getting noticeably more expensive; especially food.

Energy costs, that had peaked with gasoline around $6. a gallon, eased back to around $3.XX but then a lot of us noticed that the product packaging, was smaller.   In most cases, the price of a product remained the same, but the quantity of the product was reduced.

Take Tuna fish, for example.  The price had gone up to about $1.50  for a 6 oz. can, then all of a sudden . . . . . ALL of the Tuna fish cans became only five ounces.  ALL OF THEM!

No industry collusion there.  No anti-trust violations there.   HMMMMMM.

Portions of other products took nose-dives as well.

But now, even Dollar General is seeing a major reduction in revenues.   And this reduction is from a customer base that does not spend extravagantly because . . .  well . . . . they can’t.

So while we’ve been seeing the prices go up, the product sizes go down, things still chugged along economically, NOW we’re seeing that the very people who only bought what they absolutely NEEDED, can’t even do that anymore.

This is a terrible warning sign that the economy is not only in a recession (which government has lied about by denying it for over a year) it is heading straight and fast,  into Depression.

Of course, the Biden voters, ALL of whom are low-information people with little to no intellect or ability to discern truth from lies, have bought the lies in the mass media that the economy is good. 

Naturally, those same low-information and almost zero intellect Biden supporters will never make the connection between who they vote for and what they’re encountering in real life.   They deny what life is proving to them, and believe the lies they hear and see on TV and radio.  

Stupid is as stupid does. 

Those of us who actually have the ability to see facts, have known the economy is very sick for quite awhile and it is Biden’s socialistic economic policies, and radical environmental policies that have caused it all.

As the November Election approaches, the dumb will keep voting the way they’ve voted because they’re too dumb to figure things out.  The rest of us will vote against the present regime.  Hopefully, there are still more smart people than dumb.  We’ll see.

Can Cats See Spirits, Ghosts, or the Supernatural?

Mary Lombardi

To whom it may concern,When I signed up for this assignment, I was looking forward to spending four years of my life with someone who shared my disdain for obnoxiously loud, self idolizing, undereducated people.I believed (foolheartedly) that only respectful scientists would sign up for this mission. That only those who truly valued the exploration of the last great frontier would spend three years training, four years locked in a shuttle with little to no contact with Earth, and a year reconditioning to Earth.Through all the vetting processes and the countless tests, how is it that he made it through. Out of everyone, I had to be sent out with this doof-The tip of my pencil abruptly breaks as the door crashes open.“Yo Whaddup?” the intruder yells as he prances inside my room.“Good morning Jack. What brings you so forcefully into my room this morning?” I say in an even voice as I push my letter of complaint under the other papers on my desk.“Just wanted to check up on my favorite colleague.” I stare blankly at him as he shuffles in the silence.“Also, the coffee maker isn’t working.”Year two of four on shuttle 555 to the Great Unknown has been filled with daily coffee maker failures. After only two weeks, it was discovered that Jack had little to no idea how to fix anything electrical after he almost set fire to the kitchen unit.Since neither of us can function without a consistent supply of this liquid energy, every morning he has swung by my room to request assistance in repairing our sputtering caffeine machine.As we make our way to the small kitchen unit, our feet softly tap on the shuttle floor. We keep the gravity at about half of Earth’s. It is ‘better for the mechanics of the shuttle’ according to the maintenance manual.For the second time today, I find my hand buried deep in our well-loved coffee machine. Its plastic cover is chipped by the multiple falls it has taken (mainly because of  Jack’s love of ‘space juggling,’ where he tries to juggle with random appliances he finds). Among the small cracks, there is one that stands out from the rest. A crack, that I know was definitely not there this morning.With a shoulder heaving sigh, I retract my hand, snap on the cracked cover, and give the poor machine an affectionate pat. Now that the immediate issue is over, I turn to Jack.“Why, may I ask, is there another crack in the cover?”He takes a single step back, bringing his hands slightly out in front of himself as he tries to form a consoling expression on his face. “You see-”“Yes I see”“I was filling it up and-” He turned before finishing his thought and scrambled away. In his struggle to escape he bounces feet into the air with every step. I race behind him, wanting nothing more than to teach him once and for all to never mess with my coffee.

As we crash through the small shuttle papers go flying in our wake. He is much faster than me, and I know that catching up to him is out of the question but- I grab a blunt object from the nearest table- I can still hit him. Thus started my onslaught of flying projectiles. Lucky for him, we only have ‘space grade’ appliances that can do no damage to the shuttle, and in turn, minimum damage to people.

Frantically dodging my projectiles he ducks into his room, slamming the door shut with such force that I dare say it shakes the whole shuttle. He is safe… for now.

 

In the aftermath of the conflict, I return to my room. I shuffle through a stack of papers on my desk, readouts from the multiple instruments our shuttle carries, an aged letter from home, and my half written letter of complaint lie before me.

I sit in the chair with a heavy sigh. Recently every day has been an ordeal. Just last week, while taking our annual inventory, I found that we were missing over a month’s worth of dessert rations.

Five or six of the well loved packets would have been acceptable (we each planned on five extra per month… everyone needs a sweet snack every once in a while), but a full 17 packets? Completely unacceptable!

The culprit was found almost immediately as I made my way to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee. There, with two opened dessert packets in front of him, was Jack. I paused for a moment, shocked by his flagrant misuse of rations.

Instead of laying into him right away, I strolled calmly into the room. He froze, knowing that he had been caught. I grabbed a dish and a fork, made my way to him, spooned a heaping portion of the brownie into my bowl, and sat down across from him.

Later would come the scolding, but those brownies are all that keep me sane.

After we finished our brownie’s it was agreed that he would be able to eat one portion at a time once a week and that he would limit himself a single brownie ration per month.

 

The issue has yet to return, and I believe that we are both satisfied with the results.

 

And I don’t dare forget the swivel chair incident of two weeks past!

 

In our control room, we have the best swivel chairs. They are so smooth, and in half gravity, it’s like you are floating instead of sitting.

One day, while doing the daily readouts of our course, I took a much needed break. Pushing off of the floor I started to spin. The world around me passed in a whizzing flash. The brightly lit shuttle intermittently interrupted by the dark expanse of space, as a childish carefree glee started to spread through me.

The weightless euphoric ride was cut short when a blurred figure of Jack makes his way into the room. It took me a full revolution to slam my feet to the ground, and the moment contact was made, I shot from my chair, still spinning, as I catapulted through the air.

Through the entire ordeal, Jack’s laugh echoed through the room. As I crashed back to the ground he sat in the co-pilot chair to watch my failure. His eyes were bright with amusement even after his body shaking laughter had ceased.

We sat in silence. Him still slightly shaking from silent chuckles, and me fuming with embarrassment at being caught doing such a childish thing.

Finally, I had reached my limit with this entire ordeal. Indignantly I got up, still dizzy, and stumbled my way from the room.

 

We have yet to talk about this incident, but every now and then, he’ll make an offhand remark on my fascination with spinning chairs.

 

As I recall our past fights, I find myself smiling. Never has there been a dull moment on this journey. I look down at the letter of complaint on my desk, heave a heavy sigh, and proceed to slowly rip it into a plethora of pieces.

Jack and I may not always get along, but I would rather be with him than anyone else.

Man, it must really suck to be so delicate.

I actually live in a farming community. Here guns are a way of life. We use them for protecting livestock, hunting game, entertainment at shooting matches, and self-defense.

Our murder rate is almost zero. The last murder we had was 15 years ago…and that was a stabbing.

Our county jail is mostly filled with drunks and makers of meth. Most of those meth makers are caught by farmers with rifles long before the cops show up.

When I go to town, if I see some guy open carrying, I don’t freak out. Because I’ve been around guns all my life, I can tell the difference between a person who is a threat and who isn’t.

I live near a major city, a city that is one of the most dangerous in America. When some thugs decided that mugging and assaulting me was a good idea, when they found out that I was armed they had other places to be. I left that situation feeling healthy and safe.

Your desire to destroy all guns is not realistic.

Even if you did, what’s to stop the criminal types from stealing a gun, making a gun, or buying one on the black market?

Millions of Americans go about their lives on a daily basis completely oblivious that people around them are armed.

And yet somehow they are still safe.

It’s strange how in places where gun ownership is supported and practiced, are usually the safest neighborhoods to be in.

It’s the gun free zones you got to worry about.

Most Americans go through their daily lives without ever encountering someone who is an idiot with a gun.

If guns create such a fear in you, it’s probably because you feel defenseless and think that the answer to alleviating that is to make everybody defenseless. You are feeding exactly into what the criminals want.

An armed society is a polite society.

Besides, gun control is people control. And in a nation that lists freedom has its goal, such a thing is totally unacceptable.

Life comes with risks. Get a helmet.

No soup for you.

Bio-weapon escapes from a USA military facility destroys 99.9999% of the world’s population. Shows the escape and the breakdown of society and the fight between good and evil.

Five hours of the entire movie. This Stephan King classic is awesome. It is well worth the time to watch over a week or two when you have time, or binge watch over the weekend.

At the very minimum the first ten minutes of the movie is gold. Especially with the song “Don’t fear the reaper” playing.

Mrs Schlen of the Syracuse Department of Welfare

Boy did I ever!

Unknown number: I am f**king done with him.

Me: Ok. Why? What happened?

Mystery person: Sheila saw him with his ex again!

Me: It could be innocent?

MP: At a motel.

Me: Oh shit! Is she sure?

MP: Yes. She sent me photos.

Me: What are you going to do?

MP: I don’t know. I can’t keep letting him hurt me. I deserve better.

Me: Of course you do.

MP: You really think so?

Me: Yes. Not only do I think so, I know that if you look around there are several new guys waiting in the wings for you.

MP: Really, who?

Me: Take your pick. But choose someone who isn’t going to be an asshole, this time.

MP: You’re a good friend.

Me: That’s my job.

My New Best Friend: Can you hang out now?

Me: Are you finally breaking up with this asshole?

MNBF: Yes. I am moving out. He can’t convince me to change my mind.

Me: Well, I’m working on something, but I can put it down for you. Pack an overnight bag and come over. But, let’s not talk about him anymore tonight, Just show me the bag and I will know you’re serious. Then we can hang out or do whatever makes you happy. Ok?

MNBF: I love you, you know that.

Me: Of course you do 😉

MNBFF: Ok, I am packing my stuff and coming over.

And that was it until the next day, when I received this text:

MNBFF: Who is this?

I didn’t respond, but I think he/she knew. This is your guardian angel, Unknown Caller. You’re welcome.

Back in my community college days many years ago, I was studying Nursing and took a Psychology class with a professor who changed my entire thought process on what major I wanted. Dr Marino was an extraordinary man and the way he taught changed my major to Psychology. I took many classes with him and learned so much from him. We would sit before and after class talking about many topics and he was just overall a solid professor who loved to teach his students. Fast forward many years later, I took a left turn, dropped out from schooling, got married, bought a house, and had two kids. I was living in a quiet neighborhood when one day I opened my curtains to see a car idling across the street. It was odd, as usually only people who lived on my street came down it. I focused in on the driver and it was unmistakably Dr Marino!! He even turned to smile at me and waved. I ran into my bedroom to grab shoes, and as I walked outside, the car drove off. I tried to wave my hands, but he was gone. I immediately went inside to try to turn to social media to find him and say I just saw you and tried to run after you to say hello! Instead of finding his profile, I found his obituary. He had died a few days prior to this event. I know without a single doubt that it was Dr Marino. I think he was coming to say goodbye and encourage me to get back into school. I eventually got back in school for Social Work and will graduate in May. To Dr Marino I owe so much to. I’d like to think I’m even making him proud.

REVEALED: Secret Nuclear Strategy!

Jesus!

In grad school I was one of several teaching assistants assigned to proctor the freshman calculus final exam. Because all students took the same test it was given in the gymnasium, a lot like this photo except that the portable desks were somewhat less like punishment devices.

main qimg beccba76947076f766059b9de6c3444a pjlq
main qimg beccba76947076f766059b9de6c3444a pjlq

Our main job was to walk around the gym looking for anything unexpected.

Partway through the exam we were waved over to one desk where a student was standing up and a couple of TA’s were examining his calc book. The books all had bright red back covers, a bit like this:

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main qimg 6dbf0f0e7cc81c89b72b73a055955a90 pjlq

The enterprising student had used a matching shade of red marker to fill the cover with all sorts of tips and formulae that students were expected to have memorized*. Viewed from most angles the marker was effectively invisible – but orient the book “just so”, and everything came into view.

He probably never would have been caught except for one of the TAs who was curious why he hadn’t stored the book under his desk like most other students had done.

(*) To this day I never understood why the university expected students to memorize complex formulas like trigonometric identities and so forth. I felt we should have been testing whether they understood HOW to use the formulas rather than how many gray cells could be filled with what cos(4𝛳) expands to.

My hotel room lock was unlatched at 3am, and a shadowed figure began entering while I was sleeping (mostly alone) in bed. I had about 3 seconds of hallway light before that door closed, and I was left in pitch black (probably to be raped or murdered.)

Luckily for me, my 38 snub-nosed revolver was within arm’s reach on my nightstand keepingvme company! I had brought it into the hotel with me, so I didn’t tempt a thief by breaking into my truck to steal it. At home, I always sleep with it on my nightstand at arm’s reach, so did the same at the hotel. That night my firearm saved my life! All I had to do was pick it up & point it at the guy for ONE SECOND. Make no mistake, I’d have shot him in his chest had he taken another step forward. However; simply showing my little friend was enough to get him contort himself trying to get away fast enough. It was like the movie the matrix where they’re going backwards in mid air.

When the police arrived I was told the security cameras were all off/not working, so this was likely an inside job. The front desk attendant had previously asked multiple times if I was staying alone, which now made sense!

The police thanked me for protecting myself so they didn’t have to get called to a rape, kidnapping or murder instead. No word on the perpetrator. He never got caught, but he certainly knows now that not everyone will be an easy victim.

Suddenly life has turned upside down.

Back in December 2021, my mother suddenly lost a lot of weight. We took her for many general checkups in different hospitals and the only thing that came out is that she has iron deficiency anemia.

We were concerned but it felt fine as nothing came serious.

We continued her treatment in the AIIMS hospital, her blood count started improving but she was getting weaker and weaker.

Doctors said she will be fine but we couldn’t wait and on February 2022 we took her to vishakhapatnam.

We just wanted to make sure if that’s the only problem she has or there is something else as she is getting weaker and weaker.

We are four members in the family me, my mother, my father and my elder brother.

My brother stayed at home due to urgent reasons, me, my father and mother took off for vishakhapatnam.

After several checkups as I sat in front of the doctor, he said my mother has an impression of gall bladder carcinoma.

My father due to the language barrier and not knowing English couldn’t understand what the doctor just said.

I was shook i didn’t know how to react or say. I looked at my father and said everything’s okay as I had no courage to break this thing in front of him alone. My brother had the plan of arriving two days after us.

I waited and kept it to myself and said everybody that doctor has found the disease and everything will be fine.

The doctor we met was a junior doctor and so he couldn’t give us much comments. Now the senior doctor we had to meet was available two days later.

So for this two worst days of my life I kept it to myself. Whenever I looked at my mother I wanted to fight with god so bad I wanted to cry out loud I wanted to scream but I couldn’t.

Looking at my father and mother kept me shuddered. Those innocent faces oh my god.

The doctor asked us to go for CT scan and I can’t tell you the amount of weight I was holding to myself seeing my mother weak and going through that scan and tests.

Two days later my brother arrived and I told him about the carcinoma. He fell on his knees I had never seen my brother so helpless and weak.

Picking up ourselves we went to our father and very calmly told him about the cancer. He was shook and divastated he started crying badly. Me and my brother handled him and made him understand that everything will be fine.

We stayed in vishakhapatnam till march.

Going through all this I got supplementary in my exam. I didn’t want to tell anybody about it, also I didn’t really have anybody to tell.

We stayed in vishakhapatnam for the entire march month for the tests, treatment and 1st chemo.

On 1st week of April I had my supplementary exams, I stay away from my hometown for studies so I had to go to my college to give my exams. And I can’t tell you how tough it was for me to leave my people at this situation.

We didn’t tell my mother about the cancer, we haven’t till now as we know how weak hearted and sensitive she is. Doctor told her that she is having some infection in her gall bladder and for that they will give her with intravenous administration of medicine thats it.

It has been 4 months she is going through her 6th chemo cycle. And by god’s grace she is doing better.

But that whole situation of doctor telling me and me seeing my mother going through tests as I was the only one allowed beside my mother during her tests in that condition and me telling my father about all this, has stuck so bad in my mind that I am not able to get it out. Suddenly a word or a scenario comes in front of me and I am all shook and attacked by that whole situation.

I can’t tell this to my father and brother as they are being very courageous and strong dealing with this.

I have started going to college and there I have just nobody to tell that, “listen I am again getting this thought can you help me with it or can you just listen to me”. I have not bonded with anybody as i couldn’t attend the college much going through all this.

But luckily I have few childhood friends with whom I share this anxiety of mine.

I wanna stay with my mother but I can’t due to the attendance criteria. It’s really hard for me to go to the college and stay around people behaving everything is super fine. My eyes get teary every now and then.

I had lost 15kgs back in the year and now I have gained all that weight again and going through my contamination OCD as well.

I am trying really hard to keep myself together and be courageous but I just can’t.

I really want people to be kind to everybody around them, we have no idea what disaster the other person is facing. The least we could do to eachother is to provide love and kindness.

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Not a billionaire but a millionaire and it was no picnic. In fact, it was a real lesson in learning how so many people in the US of lesser means might have lived. Some of the things I mention might be familiar as I’ve wirtten about some of them before in other posts.

My dad died with a net worth of over three million dollars. Today, it doesn’t seem like much but it was pretty high net worth back in the 1960s and 1970s. When I was growing up, he owned his own company. It was the largest antenna installation company and electronics repair firm in our state and was very successful. His hobby was collecting and shooting firearms, so he also ran the largest gun store in our state. From the way we lived, one would never know it as dad was extremely frugal (an understatement) with his money.

Growing up, mom made most of my clothes, often from hand-me downs given to us by friends and relatives. When she started buying store-bought clothes, they came from places that were the equivalent of a modern Walmart. Never saw a designer label. In fact, the only thing that saved me from ridicule was the fact that our school required uniforms. (Our coats and shoes, though, were cheap and out of style and the other kids did ridicule us for that and, of course, non of these items came from designers.)

For most of my growing years, we ate frugally…poorest cuts of meat (if there was meat) and meals that many poorer families would typically eat such as chick peas and pasta, macaroni and beans, escarole and beans, creamed tuna fish on toast, and the like. If we had meat for school lunches, it was one single slice of stuff like baloney between two pieces of American bread. Often, lunches were comprised of leftovers. When I turned twenty one, I weighed a whopping 132 pounds at six feet tall. (My wife actually saw me as undernourished and went on an all out campaign to bulk me up!)

Our house was literally falling down around us. The back brick corner near the steps had pulled away, creating a four inch gap. The roof leaked so badly mom had to put out five gallon buckets in a rain storm to catch the water. The plaster was falling off ceilings and the house was never updated at all. I could never invite friends over as a was ashamed to bring them into that house, especially after seeing the well-kept, albeit, modest homes they lived in.

We had a rodent problem, specifically rats, that was never addressed. One of my chores was to bait, set and empty the traps. We had a cesspool that had to service a family of six…no septic system, no sewers. When the cesspool waste got too high or would clog (this happened frequently), he would lower me (wearing waders) into it with a shovel rather than hire a company to pump it out. He would then lower down buckets which I would fill and he would discard in the woods behind outer house. The old cast iron waste pipes in the basement frequently leaked. His “solution” was to patch them rather than replace them. When they clogged one time, he instructed me to open an access plug and drain the waste into five gallon buckets. I did and I got smacked with a high pressure stream of waste directly in my chest. It’s amazing I never got hepatitis!

Mom had a washer but no dryer. We would be hanging clothes outside to dry, winter and summer. Sometimes a change in weather caused them to freeze on the clothesline and we had to carry them in, stiff like boards. If the washer broke down (and it did frequently), my mom was forced to make trips to a laundromat to get them washed and dried. Finally, it died completely and it took dad three years to finally buy a new one. She used the laundromat during all that time.

Our car was eight years old, unreliable and so rusty there were holes in the floorpan. Dad liked to run his vehicles “into the ground”. Only at that point would he replace them. Our driveway was filled with half ton vans from the business that had died but he would not pay to have them hauled away. Eventually, a neighbor registered a complaint with the town who forced him to get them hauled away.

When I bought my first car with my own money I earned from installing rooftop tv antennas part time for dad’s company starting at about fourteen years of age. Even so, he dictated what I was allowed to buy. He insisted it have an automatic transmission (which cost me two hundred dollars more) so my mom could use it. He did this to avoid having to buy his wife her own car; yet, I had to pay for the gas, maintenance, insurance, etc. He didn’t offer to help out at all. When he drove it and blew a brand new tire, he changed it and told me I needed to buy a replacement.

On the other end of the spectrum, Christmases were good. Mom would often sneak some treats into our lunches. We went on a one week vacation via automobile every year and a lot of family excursions on the weekends. We ate out at inexpensive restaurants at least once a month. He also paid for our state college educations though, in all fairness, tuition was pretty cheap at under $300 per semester.

There was so much more and, as I remember other things, I will keep updating this post but I think you readers have the general idea. I may be accused of making some of this up, but I swear it’s all true. I don’t look back with especially fond memories of my childhood. Of course, we didn’t know any better growing up but, as an adult, I sure learned what NOT to do with my family! In fact, this past Father’s Day, my oldest son paid me the highest compliment I’ve ever received when he wrote me a note in a card that said I really taught him the importance of family and set an example of how to raise children.

The real kicker, though, was that after his death, he left his entire fortune to his second wife of less than two years. None of his four sons saw a single cent!

When a Dad Realizes His Son is a Psychopath

https://youtu.be/nInpsReK8Sk

Cyberbullying? I switch off.

Or I simply mock them more with strongly evidence comments. Right now there’s some british person who can’t do maths who thinks he knows everything, since he can’t actually argue against me he has decided to use racism and personal attacks against me.

But here’s the thing, you have to realise a LOT (I didn’t say all) of westerners are like this:

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Wussat? That;s the Goa’uld from Stargate.

Here’s what the stargate wiki says

Doesn’t that sound like a lot of westerners?

The end bit is pertinent, these types thing they are right about everything and if you call them out, post counter evidence they’ll be like the Goa’uld in Stargate.

HOW DARE YOU TALK AGAINST A GOD! I know everything!

A few weeks ago there was a discussion with Duncan

He said I know for a FACT Russia is incapable of manufacturing anything! Bear in mind Duncan isn’t uneducated, he’s some sort of nuclear engineer. He spoke with absolute confidence.

So? I called him out on I asked him how do you know.

He just said he knew… implying he had some sort of omniscient powers.

I then asked him what colour the mug was on my desk, at which he said he didn’t know. So he went through some Olympic level mental gymnastics about how he knew everything but couldn’t see the colour of my mug on my desk.

Duncan doesn’t like me very much because I called out his omniscient god like powers. I frequently do this by challenging western KNOW IT ALLs to give me the lottery numbers. They seem to fail at this with predictable regularity despite their omniscience.

Here’s the other thing, Duncan types aren’t exactly rare. Day after day I get I AM A GOD I KNOW EVERYTHING TYPES talk down to me about how they know everything that happens in China and they see everything that happens in China too or wherever.

And here’s the funny thing. I rarely block them because it allows them to bleat on about their GOD like powers on and on and humiliate themselves over and over, yet their god like powers don’t let them see this for some strange reason.

I’ve travelled to 20+ countries and I would not go back to India. This is unfortunate, because I really wanted to like India. Here’s why I won’t return:

  • DIRTY: Extremely dirty with garbage everywhere. Step outside a beautiful airport (India has built some nice infra in the last 5 years), and you’re in piss and shit.
  • CHEEK TO JOWL CROWDED: Crushingly and oppressively crowded and noisy with constant honking and yelling, (and barking by stray dogs).
  • SCAMS: A million scams; fake certificates, fake scamming callcenters, fake police, adulterated food, you name a scam, it’s here.
  • ANIMAL CRUELTY: Poor treatment of animals and nature. It’s upsetting to see people beat cows and stone stray dogs.
India’s 5 million stray cows are sacred—and a growing nuisance
In India, wayward cattle are trampling crops, spreading disease, and causing car accidents. They’re also venerated.
  • POLLUTION & BAD AIR: Unbreathable, filthy air in most big cities and filthy rivers: an environmental disaster. Here’s a listing of the most polluted cities in the world, most are in India:
  • MONUMENT DECAY: Not much to see: the monuments have a million hanger ons that harass you, and much of the history has been destroyed by rabid overpopulation. Sad to see gorgeous forts, with bollywood film posters pasted on, looted, and with and shoddy quality modern repairs.
  • THE STARING: The constant staring; indians openly gape at white people and foreigners. Women report being followed and “eve-teased” an uniquely indian form of sexual harassment. If staring was a olympic sport, India would win all the medals.
  • TREATMENT OF WOMEN: Extremely patriarchal society that mistreats women. Hardly any women work outside the house except in big urban centers.
  • COLORISM & INFATUATION WITH THE WEST: A country that lacks self confidence and self esteem; a mindless aping of the west and a desire to be white (what indians call “light skinned”). Dark skin and traditional indian looks are disliked instead of admired..this is likely a colonial hangup. Advertising billboard have whitened faces, selling in a brown country..an odd malapropism.

https://www.moneycontrol.com/news/trends/detergent-in-milk-dish-wash-liquid-in-candy-horror-stories-of-food-adulteration-in-india-go-viral-12752746.html

A lot of Indians will lie and say India is great, but you only have to walk outside a US embassy (or any developed country embassy) to see hordes of people a mile long, desperately trying to get out. A pity, because this was likely a beautiful country centuries ago. A small % of rich live well, and a middle class (30%) manages, for the poor it’s a abject, brutish life.

The West never ever plundered China

They sold Opium and took advantage of the Chinese addiction but they never actually colonized China like they did to India or Sri Lanka or other places in Africa

They mainly TRADED with China

They didn’t steal the tea did they?

They purchased Silk and Tea from the Cohong merchants and in exchange paid them with Silver and later Opium

When their trade was threatened, they fought and bested the Emperor and got a few gains including HK

Yet the West never actually owned Chinese mines or lands themselves

They settled down in Cities and built factories and warehouses in places like Canton, Shanghai, Hongkong, Whampoa etc

The West never plundered China or Japan or Korea like they plundered India, Pakistan, Bangladesh or Sri Lanka or even Malaya

This was 1850s

Imagine 2024

They will be crunched like a cola can

How to Escape the UK RIGHT NOW

One thing, I must declare, is that the Chinese may not be what you think. The peace-loving Communist Party, and the Chinese are one of the bound in this regard.

The Communist Party is the conservative party of China, and the biggest hawk in China is in the people, and this is no joke.

In the 19th century, there was no ban on firearms in China.

In 1993, a large-scale gun battle took place between two villages in Hunan, in which 5,000 people participated and lasted 34 hours. There are even earth cannons, broadswords, mines.

Encyclopedias published in China in the 1970s on how to use and make grenades, firearms, electricians, machine repair, how to fight bayonets, how to attack airplanes with anti-aircraft guns.

You see that the Chinese love peace today, and that is all under the control of the Communist Party.

You should thank the Communist Party of China for its love of peace.

Shorpy

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This is quite topical, because a highly controversial cop-killing incident happened in China recently.

A 16-year old girl declared she was suicidal. She then jumped into a river, but could not drown because she’s a good swimmer. A People’s Police officer passing by jumped into the water to fish her out. However, every time she was brought back ashore, she jumped back into the river immediately, and the cop had to dive after her.

This process went on for several minutes until the cop (who couldn’t swim) was absolutely fatigued. A bystander tossed a rope into the water so that the cop could grab it. However, at that moment, the girl deliberately swam towards the cop, pushed him away from the rope, and the cop drowned to death soon afterwards.

Why did the girl do it, you ask?

Only she would know. Some people, when they feel suicidal, are known to have this urge to “take a few others with them”. Or perhaps she was never truly suicidal in the first place, only putting on a dramatic display to seek attention, and was spiteful towards her “rescuer” for ruining her show.

What we do know is that she was doxed, and hackers alleged that she’s part of a feminist movement on Xiaohongshu (the Chinese equivalent of Pinterest), a highly successful app notorious for its misandrist tendencies. One post in particular (see screenshot below) is believed to have been viewed, “hearted” or shared by her account:

Translated to English, it says,

“Can some men please just die already?! Let me teach you a way to kill males. Find somewhere crowded, jump into a river and pretend you want to drown yourself. Worthless males are usually inclined to save you. That is when you hold his head down in the water, and claim you weren’t mentally stable when you fell into the river.”

This post was from three years ago, and has been “favourited” over 30,000 times as of this moment. The post is still active and hasn’t been censored.

Li Xie (李燮, 1985~2024), the Chinese cop who drowned, was only recently given accolades for his dedicated service, and he now leaves behind a loving wife and two kindergarten-aged children.

We know for a fact that in America, cop-killers usually aren’t let off the hook so easily. Even if they weren’t shot 100 times by other cops on the spot, they’d be “taken care of” in prison. So surely in the “police state” that is the People’s Republic of China, the girl was immediately arrested and executed by the authorities, correct?

Nope. She walks free. There are no charges against her. The authorities specifically requested the public not to “cyberbully” her.

This whole incident proves several things:

  1. The idea that China is a “police state” is demonstrably false. An actual police state would never tolerate a cop-killer. More importantly, policemen in an actual police state would never sacrifice their lives to save a civilian.
  2. The narrative that China is a “totalitarian dystopia” where no freedom of speech exists is likewise, demonstrably false. An actual totalitarian dystopia would never allow grassroots/foreign-sponsored activist groups (such as neoliberal feminists in China’s case) to evolve to a state where they are openly calling for the extermination of other people, put those words into action, and grow to such an extent that their ideology is challenging the state’s ideology (Socialism with Chinese Characteristics in China’s case).
  3. The conception of China being a “sexist/misogynistic” hellhole, as is often depicted by western media, is demonstrably false. If any sexism exists, it is towards men. Seriously, name another country where feminists can get off Scott free for killing males – not just any male, but an enforcer of the law.

I’ve been saying this since the Chinese feminists metoo’d the CCTV host Zhu Jun – the problem isn’t that China is too “Communist”, the problem is that it isn’t Communist enough.

Liberal democracy has been an utter shitshow in almost every country where it has been implemented. And given what its adherents have been doing in mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan and other parts of the Sinosphere, there is no reason to believe the system would work any better in China.

I have a friend who is an excellent negotiator when buying large items, cars, boats, houses… he will just wear you down, wait you out, and out last you. This story was about a boat he found at the boat show in Dallas Texas. Him and his wife, they are lake people, retired, has money (sold a business) and live a very nice life.

They find this Sea Ray, 32 footer at the show. And you know the dealer would rather sell the boat there rather than take it back. So my friend gets them all hot and bothered about selling this boat… they are selling, selling, and selling and he’s is the perfect buyer… lives on the lake, has a dedicated slip, has the cash, loves boats, husband and wife are together… they are closing hard. Let’s say this is March in Dallas.

They are talking price and terms and delivery and you have to know the salesman thinks he a commission in hand. He is closing hard. My friend, let’s call him Bob, will let that sales man go as far as he can go, then ask “is this the best you can do?” and “is there anyone else we need to get involved here?”. Then its the next man up. The general manager. Test drive after test drive. Try out the 42 footer, and the 28 footer. There is a used one, then there is a different brand… and Bob will work this guy as long as he can and ask…. “is this the best that you can do?” and “is there someone else we need to get involved here?” Now the dealer is on the clock. Bob will call about a newer model, last years model, this upgrade, that package… they have quoted him 4000 times. Bob knows the receptionist and the secretary by name, the “is this the best you can do?” and “Do we need to get anyone else involved here?” are relentless and he’s been told many times “this is it. it’s my call!” Until the manufacturer gets on board. We have this model, we have a demo, we have a boat show special, we can presale a next years model, and it just goes on and on and on, another boat show comes and goes. Bob has an office at the dealership, they share birthdays and anniversaries. He just wears them down… the conversation turns to “what do we have to do to get you to purchase the damn boat???” He answer “Is the absolutely the best that you can do on this? is there anyone else we need to get involved here?” The banker calls and says “we have a repo that is the same year, same model and same size, same package with very low hours on it.” and that’s the last thing the dealer wants to here.

By now the local boat dealer is almost out of it, would like to move the boat, there is no margin left in the offer… And Bob is still asking “is this the best you can do?” “do we need to get someone else involved?”

And finally, 18 months later, the boat has been sitting in dry dock, the dealership has wasted so many man hours with Bob, they have hired to CSR’s to deal with Bob. So many try it before you buy it deals. They strike a deal that Bob is happy about. They are basically begging Bob to take the boat, Yes, its full of gas, Yes, its a new battery, Yes, to new bumpers and ropes, Yes to a new Bimini top, Yes, we will delivery it for free… please take it, Go!

“Are you sure this is the best you can do? “Do we need to get someone else involved?”

An often slept upon part of history is the Warlord Era of China, just a hundred years ago China was made up of a bunch of warring states. This produced many wacky leaders, but none come close to the insanity of this man.

Zhang Zongchang

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Zhang Zongchang was a warlord for the Fengtian clique in the Shangdong region of Northeast China. He proved to be a capable leader and fighter, utilizing armored cars and White Russian Mercenaries fleeing from the war. He was also one of the first people to use women in his army. In 1925 he captured both Shangai and Nanking. However this one of the few normal things about him.

Let’s start with some of the nicknames he got

  • Old Eighty-Six (believed to be named after his penis, which was 86 coins tall)
  • Dogmeat General (named after his affinity for paijiu , a game popularly known as “eating dog meat.)
  • 72 Cannon Chang (we’ll get into this one later)
  • Three Don’t Knows (didn’t know how big his treasury was, his army, and his harem)

Now you are a sense of his character, let’s go over some of the crazy stuff he did

  • He once promised to return victorious or a coffin from a battle. Since he lost the battle, he returned by parade in a coffin while smoking a cigar
  • Zhang refused to drink any water except from a minor tributary of the Jinan River. He preferred to drink the water directly from the stream, often excusing himself from dinner to go drink from the stream
  • In the later years of his life he lived in Japan, where he shot the Emperor’s Cousin in 1929. It was ruled an accident but it was likely intentional as allegedly, the cousin was flirting with one of his concubines.
  • By far the craziest thing he did was during a famine in Shangdong. Many locals were at the Temple of Zhang Xian praying to a statue for rain. Upon arriving to the temple, Zhang decided to slap the statue and yell “f*ck your sister! How dare you make Shandong’s people suffer by not giving us rain” The next day he ordered his artillery to shoot at the sky in retaliation. It rained the next day, grant him the nickname 72 Cannon Chang.

On another note he also wrote poetry and it’s what you’d expect from a man like him.

“Poem about bastards”

You tell me to do this,
He tells me to do that.
You’re all bastards,
Go fuck your mother.

“Visiting Mount Tai”

From afar, Mount Tai looks blackish,
Narrow on top and wide at the bottom.
If you flipped it upside down,
It would be narrow at the bottom and wide on top.

Edit this blew up so I’ll give you another bonus fact:

  • After seeing a basketball game for the first time, he allegedly asked “Why the hell are they fighting over a single ball? We’re the hosts. Are we seriously this poor?” He ordered all the players be given a basketball.

Date three, back at my flat, for ‘coffee’. Just so you know, if we invite you in for tea, that’s a whole different ballgame involving kettles, teapots and China mugs, but I digress.

He starts off nervously: “you know how I said I was on medication for epilepsy?”

“Yeeeeees…”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly true.” Proceeds to unpack a cornucopia of little yellow and brown bottles from his rucksack.

“Right, no problem. Um, do you mind if I ask what’s wrong with you?”

“Well, I used to do a lot of drugs and had a kind of psychotic breakdown a few years ago. Hearing voices and cracking up. I was hospitalised for a few months.”

Gulp. He is a big fella, all muscles and tattoos.

“Right, so these days….”

“Yes well they can’t decide if it’s schizophrenia or just manic depression. The problem is knowing if I should do what the voices say.”

Did I tell anyone I was inviting him over?

“Have you ever hurt anyone because of the voices?”

“Um….only myself. And one or two other people. I don’t remember very well but I never went to prison, just the hospital. There are a few years that are pretty hazy.”

Slowly getting up, moving to the kitchen, acting calm and natural.

“Do you think maybe we could meet another time? I’m pretty tired and my family is coming to visit tomorrow.” (Complete fabrication).

He packed all his medicine bottles back in his rucksack, but before leaving asked if he could send me some of his short stories.

Of course. I’d be honoured.

We stayed in touch by email and he sent me some extremely disturbing prose centring on faeces, menstrual blood and what a useless, untalented writing teacher he had.

I felt compassion for him, but was relieved when he left my flat.

Poor guy.

Breaking | China Just Picked a Side

Food yummy Porn

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I was flying out of Orlando. The flight was delayed due to weather in Atlanta affecting incoming flights. The gate agents were busy shuffling people around to get everyone rebooked. Needless to say, many of us were in a foul mood, but trying to make the best of a bad situation.

We finally board. Most of us would miss our connections, but we’re all just ready to go. Earbuds go in and we wait for take off. Nobody is talking.

Once airborne, the captain made an announcement. We would be able to see the Space Shuttle launching in a few minutes, but only from the right side windows of the plane. Everyone on my side looked towards the other side. Those folks would be able to see it. Not us.

Sure enough, in a few minutes there were oohs and ahhs from the lucky passengers. Then without a word, as if it were coordinated, people started getting up and gesturing for us to look out their windows. We all got up and squeezed past each other to get a glimpse of the shuttle.

To be honest, it wasn’t that exciting. It was a huge white tail going directly away from the earth. It was completely perpendicular. What made it amazing, however, was the spontaneous sharing of the view. Tired, irritated people got out of their seats to share. In all probability, none of us would ever see the shuttle from a plane again, and I was grateful for the opportunity.

Then we all awkwardly returned to our rightful seats. Some people started chatting, others returned to their earbuds, but everyone was smiling. What started out as a crummy situation suddenly became a memorable adventure, all because people shared something.

Not me but a co worker I once had , he was a labour for bricklayers, he was a nice enough guy good worker if you could get him to concentrate for more than 30 seconds at a time ,and to be fair old mate was dumb as a rock and he was a danger to him self and others but he had a great sence of humour witch saved him a lot. this one day he came in and I’d say he had one to many breakfast bongs, every thing was going wrong and the brickies let him know about it too, then one of the brickies said to him “your as useless as a screen door on a submarine, might be time to get off the weed bro”, talk about the straw that broke the camels back, old mate flipped it he walked off around the house crying, then came back, and for no reason picked up a trowel off a motar board ,told the boss to go fuck him self and through the trowel over the neighbours fence. so old mate gets his lunch bag and starts to walk off the site, the boss walks down and says come back and we’ll discuss this , old mate middle of the day turns around at the top of his voice in the middle of the street screems “stick your f$#ken job up your ass!! ” and then for some reason through his lunch bag onto the next-door neighbours garage roof, and walked off down the street , we never heard from him again. Lunch that day on the job was a quite one

Older, maybe obsolete. But IMPORTANT.

CJ enters the cornfield

Disclaimer: All the comparisons are done with Indian life as benchmark

Oh that’s plenty…where do i begin with? let’s see.

  • There are no cops on major roads of the cities in China , yet traffic stops at red light. This may sound absurd, but this is not the norm in India.
  • Fitness level of people. I don’t remember finding any obese person in China. I visited three cities: Beijing, Shanghai & Harbin. None were obese .
  • Absence of google, facebook, twitter. Sites like weibo, wechat rule the roost.
  • Participation of women in the economy: in all the three cities we had women tour guides who stayed with us from morning 7:00 am till night 10:30. Pretty difficult to expect that in India.
  • Toilets: this one is quite weird. while traditional chinese go the indian way, what was quite shocking was to find that public toilets have indian seats, with no partition in between!!!. no privacy whatsoever. ofcourse you will not find water as well. and quite possibly toilet roll too would be absent. Certainly not the best country to do your business.
  • Electricity quota: China only switches on its ACs during restricted months during summers. The Government decides that duration.
  • Infrastructure: everything out there…be it roads, monuments, factories, its just huge. More importantly it is working. While we are debating the need for bullet trains, china is using them like crazy. We struggle to get mobile network at stationary places, i was talking trouble-free with my sister in India during a train ride with this train speed…

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No doubt Sydney opera is outstandingly beautiful , but take a look at this

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That’s Harbin grand opera, no less picturesque than Sydney in any way. Chinese are extremely determined to match the best in the world & even beat the best.

There

  • Friendliness of people: Indians are treated the same way indians generally treat white skinned people..with awe. they were quite willing to have pics with us, help us & what not.This China Vs india rhetoric is not known to people
  • General absence of religion in public discourse. Religion doesnt feature in the lives of Chinese people in general. No bullshit in the name of religion
  • Discipline. I found Chinese quite disciplined in their schedule & daily lives. What to eat, when to eat , its all quite structured. They are an extremely hardworking & disciplined people. No wonder China has grown so much
  • Eye for detail: These guys plan way ahead. and execution is too good. They also focus quite a lot on maintenance of things. I was surprised to find a man scrubbing a dustbin early morning on my morning run at Harbin. That’s something i would not imagine here.
  • Lack of pvt ownership. You don’t own land/apartment. it is leased to your for 99 years & that too can be taken by the government any time & you will be given a replacement , not necessarily of your choice
  • 2nd copies aka fakes. very difficult to differentiate from the originals. China has dedicated malls which deal in them

China is a very interesting country & is definitely worth a visit. You could learn quite a few things.

I can only speak for the Army. Yes. We get courses on map navigation and compass use.

There is no using stars for navigation as that requires a sextant. You will see the Navy personnel on ships doing this.

It’s too complicated for infantry soldiers. Not that Army can’t do it but it requires extra equipment. It’s just easier to use maps and compass. The Navy uses stars because one part of the Ocean looks like any other part. Blue and flat. There is literally nothing to look at except for stars.

On land, you have land features and with a map you can easily find out where you are. And for the Army, carrying extra equipment that you won’t use is simply not done. Every ounce of equipment has to be useful for the Army soldiers. Space and weight is at a premium.

Rape. Like everyone else out there, it was what you first associate with the scary things about prison. Such BULLSHIT. I’m sure it happens.. I never witnessed it, I was never even slightly at risk of that happening to me … and never even heard a rumor on the yard of it happening … and there are few secrets on the yard.

When I went to prison the first time in my twenties, I was stripped down naked and left on a wooden bench during processing and intake. I was very scared. A brotha came in saw me naked and yelled at the CO to give me my prison-issued clothing. An hour or two later, still getting processed, another brotha who worked there asked me if I wanted an extra bag lunch he had. I quickly said NO… cuz that’s what I was told led to you being someone’s bitch. He asked me again, and once more I say no… but I was starving! He smiles, and leaves it anyways. What I learned that day was there were many, many men who were strangers to me but gave without expecting anything. It wasn’t at all like I had expected.

When I returned to prison in my fifties, I thought I was too old to fight and worried about how I was going to be treated. Again, as soon as I appeared on the yard, a group of brothas appeared at my bunk with shower shoes, ramen, some hygiene products, chips, candy, and even some sweat shirts and pants! It’s what they do for every new black inmate’s arrival and I was honored to do that for others as they arrived.

A big one is body odor. If a person doesn’t smell right, attraction dies on the vine. I once read a story about a famous actor turning down Marilyn Monroe, despite her being rather into him and “ready to go”… he had her in front of him. Needed only to say the word.

But she smelled bad. And she didn’t take care of herself. And any other man would have been able to overlook it — it’s Marilyn Monroe, after all. Of all people! A queen, no, a goddess amongst women! To the actor it was a dealbreaker. And I’ve seen this play out in life, in a way. A beautiful person with horribly decaying teeth? No way, José. A gorgeous face may lean in for a kiss and if the smell from his or her mouth is the foul scent of death… that’s the end of all attraction.

Be clean. Be fresh. Smell right, so people will be eager to taste you, be near you, explore you. But smell like death and it’s the death of your dating life. Not to all people — desperation’s one hell of a drug — but to many.

Nopes

You can conclude that they are either lies or exaggerations

Why?

In 1978 – Soviet Union issued exactly 5260 Tourist Exit Visas outside the Iron Curtains to other nations which were not Soviet Satellites

In the same year 12,400 Visit Visas were issued to enter the Soviet Union from Non Communist Nations (Including North Korea + Vietnam + Cuba + China)

In 2024 – so far to date Chinese Passports have been issued 8.72 Million Tourist Visas upto 30/6/24 while around 12–14 Million Chinese Visas have been issued for Foreign Passport Holders into China

12,400 vs 14 Million!!!!

So trust me, China can’t hide anything today

They don’t hide anything today

Since most of their Media is STATE OWNED there is no incentive in insane TRPs and thus the Chinese Media does not go for SENSATIONALISM

They often appear “Boring” to the outsiders used to Western or Indian media with their sensationalism and their quest for TRPs

The Problem is most people still look at China with a 1980s lens

Had my sons not gone to Singapore, had I myself not done business with Singaporeans and had my Nephew not gone to Shanghai, I would have had the same 1980s lens

You have to go to China to experience the new China and conclude that it’s entirely and diametrically opposite to what the Western Narrative Suggests


For instance the West says Chinas stock market is performing badly

In reality Chinas Stock prices are CAPPED in a way

They can’t rise beyond a certain maximum

In that way the shares are kept undervalued

Any Banker working in China knows the truth

For instance the West says Chinas Real Estate sector is collapsing

In reality, the Sector is deliberately allowed to kill off speculation and ensure affordable housing to all Chinese

Every Tier 2/3 City is going to have some fixed price housing projects which will rise by a fixed 4% a year for the next 30 years

That’s to ensure every couple can buy an affordable house before they are 30 years of age

The West doesn’t cover this news

You need to live in China to know this news.

For instance the West says Chinas Demographic collapse is coming

In reality Chinas age of retirement is pegged at 55 Years

If it’s raised to 65, China would have 66% of their working population supporting 13.50% of their elderly population in 2042 and 60% of their Population supporting 18% of their elderly population in 2060

It’s still more than 3:1

Plus Chinese people SAVE at a rate more than the entire world

A Chinese Household saves 44% of their income earned against less than 24.8% for the Global Average and 17.7% for the G7

However while this is something every Chinese Actuarian knows, no Westerner will ever talk about this

They have no idea how China works


Even on Quora

Only those who genuinely live in China or know China like Bill Chen or Aya Shawn and some others have some idea of what’s going on

Most others simply either quote Western Media or 1980s Narrative like “CCP is bad, CCP is Evil”

Accidental Time Travelers | The Mystery and Science of Time Slips

Her name was Mrs. Shakley

You have been fooled by Human Right Watch which is funded by NED which is funded US Congress.

There was no Rohingya genocide or Uyghurs genocide. They are lies.

Let us understand the mentality of USA. Former US diplomat Henry Kissinger said: to be US enemy is dangerous. To be US friend is fatal.

USA’s mentality is “America ONLY”. No country will be safe. Neither friend nor enemy.

USA makes China or Russia a US enemy. Then use a US friend eg Ukraine or Philippines to provoke a war against US enemy. After war/use, US friends will become a condom & be discarded by USA. That is how fatal a US friend is: shed blood & lose life for US interest.

After WW2, from 1946-2001, in 55 years, there were 248 wars around the globe. 201 of them ie 82% were instigated by USA. In 240+ years since US independence, there were only 16 years when USA was not in a war.

Other than war, USA would bribe locals to instigate unrest eg protests, riots & coups against any government who dont bow down to USA. For instance, 56 coups incl assassination in Latin America since WW2.

There is only 1 motive for USA: money & power/dominance. It is modern-day colonisation.

1, money

Both US military industry (MIC) & Federal Reserve (FED) are private corporations run by capitalist sharks & not by (responsible) government who would focus on the welfare of the country eg economic development.

MIC makes tons of money thru wars & arms sales. They lobby US government to create wars in other countries. US politicians also make $$$ by buying MIC stocks or working as a MIC salesman to other country.

Another 2 capitalist sharks are FED & Wall Street. They create monetary or financial war to bankrupt other country so as to suck foreign capitals/investments to USA, or post-war construction in war-torn country.

See, if there is peace in the world, MIC, FED or Wall Street will create war somewhere so as to make money.

US senator L Graham told the truth: must win the Ukraine war, for Ukraine’s rich minerals.

2, power/US dominance ie modern-day conlonisation

Control other’s government & make them a US puppet.

Then control other’s resources eg Ukraine’s minerals, Syria’s oil & rich agricultural land.

US wisdom

In 1961, the then pres D Eisenhower warned against the establishment of private MIC which will distort US politics & threaten democracy.

Many US pres eg J Kennedy, R Nixon & more fought with the FED but failed.

conclusion

USA wont not let world peace to happen. USA must create unrest/war thru its puppets eg Ukraine & Philippines.

War is in the DNA of USA.

Are capitalist sharks nice to Americans?

Every year, US taxpayers pay the interest of the US debts that is created as aids to war-torn country.

Capitalist sharks make tons of money from wars, but pay little tax to benefit USA. For instance, sharks wont maintain infrastructure, resulting in train derailment almost daily. Making USA look like a under-developed 3rd world. The list is long.

Viral Post EXPOSES How Most Women VIEW Men!

On February 15, 1978 around 1:00 AM, a man was stopped by Pensacola police officer David Lee after a routine “wants and warrants” check showed that the Volkswagen Beetle the man was driving, was actually stolen.

The man resisted arrest, tried to run away and was eventually subdued by the police officer. David Lee had no idea who the man really was. And he also did not know that the man was on the FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list.

Less than a month before the arrest, the man had broken into Florida State University’s Chi Omega sorority house and bludgeoned and strangled two women (while killing them in the act), raping one of them and brutally biting her on her buttocks and tearing off one nipple. In an adjoining room, he beat two other students over the head with a log. They survived (but were both severely wounded), which investigators attributed to a roommate who came home and interrupted the man before he was able to kill them.

All of this happened in less than 15 minutes.

On February 9, he killed again. This time he abducted a 12-year-old girl named Kimberly Leach, raped her, cut her throat and mutilated her genitals with a knife inside a pig farrowing shed.

He kidnapped Kimberly on the Lake City Junior high school school grounds, in between classes.

[Kimberly Dianne Leach was 12 when she was abducted and murdered.]

This happened less than a week before he was taken into custody.

David Lee had no idea about all of this. That the man was the world’s most famous serial killer, that he had been on the loose for more than a month after a spectacular escape. That the man had killed two more young women and an innocent school girl.

And that he had arrested Ted Bundy.


SOURCES: The footnoted sites. For the picture of Kimberly Leach, I used ABC News.

[3]For the photograph of Ted Bundy, I consulted “Killer in the Archives.”
[4]Footnotes

Roger

“Meet Roger Barrett, this gentleman is a patient of mine who just started coming to our office this week…little did I know this man would change my life.

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main qimg 29b93d7fbe7fa81ff6a931e3fa96848d

Mr. Barrett was diagnosed with bladder cancer in 2009 and was told he could receive treatment but if the cancer spread outside the bladder there wasn’t much the doctors could do. Well as months went on and the doctor visits and follow ups continued Mr. Barrett’s cancer began to get worse. In 2010 he went in for yet another follow up and was told the cancer had spread past his bladder and there wasn’t anything they could do – that he had 5 years to live. Mr Barrett decided he wanted any treatment possible that could maybe help him so the doctors agreed and tried a few more treatments but the treatments were causing him to build up infection. The doctor told Mr. Barrett if he continued getting the infections they could also kill him therefore the doctor had no choice but to stop treatment.

A few months later was the month of December and every year Mr. Barrett decorates his home with 150,000 lights displaying the true meaning of Christmas and opens it up to the public and has a fire pit, serves hotdogs and marshmallows at no charge. Well one Saturday evening Mr. Barrett was parking cars in his back yard, and he said a couple pulled up in a little car. Mr. Barrett said clearly they didn’t belong there because the woman was dressed in a white, gorgeous coat that came down to her ankles and he man was dressed in his Sunday best suit. Mr. Barrett said they stayed a good two and a half hours walking around the property admiring the light display. Mr. Barrett said as they came around the property the last time they stopped him and said ‘This is the most beautiful light display we have seen, we saw Jesus more than once through this display’ and Mr. Barrett replied ‘Yes sir, that’s what it is all about’ the man then said, ‘If you don’t mind me asking what does your utility bill usually run putting all this on?’ Mr. Barrett replied, ‘We have three meters we pull from so it runs anywhere from $750-$800.’ The man then replies ‘Mr. Barrett you’re also having some health problems aren’t you?’ Mr. Barrett (kind of puzzled) responds ‘why yes I am, I currently have bladder cancer and they have given me 5 years.’ The man relies and asks ‘do you mind if we pray for you?’ Mr. Barrett said ‘I would appreciate that.’

Mr. Barrett said he never felt the couple touch him as they held hands for the prayer. He said the whole prayer just felt different and he said I could swing my feet back and forth as if I was floating. After they prayed the man looks at Mr. Barrett and said ‘Do not let yourself think about that Cancer again, God told me He has His hand on you. Also, do not stop doing this light display, God also told me He is going to handle it.’

Mr. Barrett still puzzled by the couples kindness hurried to tell his wife who was entertaining the rest of their guests. She responded ‘Honey, there wasn’t a couple here of that description.’ Mr. Barrett said ‘Yes there was, they were here for two and a half hours. I was just talking and praying with them.’ Mr. Barrett asked a few other people who were there and no one recognized this couple he was describing.

The following Wednesday (2011) Mr. Barrett went to the hospital to have his biopsy done and the doctors told him to call his doctor to set up a two week follow up so he has time to get the results. The next day Mr. Barrett had just woke up and sat on the edge of the bed and his phone rang. It was his doctor, Immediately Mr. Barrett began apologizing because he had forgotten to call. The doctor said ‘Are you sitting down Mr. Barrett?’ He responded “yes sir” the doctor proceeded ‘I have your results. Do not ask me any questions because I don’t have the answers but you’re cancer free!’ Mr. Barrett said he handed the phone to his wife because he couldn’t speak. The doctor told Mr. Barrett ‘I’m going to send you for more tests because if there are any cancer cells I’m going to find them.’ After running every test in the book the doctors couldn’t find a single cancer cell, Mr. Barrett was in fact Cancer Free!

Weeks had gone by and Mr. Barrett’s wife had opened their utility bill and said ‘they must have made a mistake, but I’m sure they will catch it next month’ Mr. Barrett said ‘why what is it?’ Mrs. Barrett replied ‘our total utility bill with all three meters is only $187’ Mr. Barrett couldn’t help but smile and say ‘There is no mistake, God took care of it!”

The meme’s are relentless

Hank Hill: “So are you Chinese or Japanese?”
Kahn Souphanousinphone: “I’m from Laos, it’s a landlocked country in south east Asia.”
Hank: “… so are you Chinese or Japanese?”

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main qimg fb2740a7784966c263129ae9f996c858

A clueless West

The story of China depending on “cheap labour” and “bad working conditions” is now utterly outdated but very prevalent among many commentators, and the general public. Over the next 5-10 years they are going to get a very nasty surprise as China dominates every single green energy industry – Solar, Wind, Nuclear, Smart Networks, Batteries, EVs … while also reducing their greenhouse emissions in parallel with continued 5% GDP growth and catching up in microchips. The image of China will be that of the future, as with the US in the 1950s, and the image of the West will be that of a bullying past. I have written a piece on that:

China Rapidly Becoming Both a Green Energy Leader and Climate Champion

Even at PPP, the incomes of China’s 1.4 billion will only reach about US$35,000 in 2030 and US$44,000 in 2035. But given the sheer scale of the country, there will be whole regions with populations bigger than Germany that will have incomes at least equal to that nation. In addition, Chinese incomes will still be growing at perhaps 4% per year, while Europe and North America will be in full decline – with Europe in the lead. With respect to the US, so much of its GDP is BS (under-counting inflation, double-counting financial services costs as outputs etc.), and wasted (the military, healthcare etc.) it is hard to tell what the true income level is, especially for the bottom 80%.

In addition, the West (especially North America) has such a huge deficit in infrastructure spending to make up while its very aged pieces of that infrastructure will need more and more money to stop catastrophic reductions in service.

Posted by: Roger | Aug 22 2024 21:52 utc | 56

Shorpy

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I Was NOT Prepared for *THE SIXTH SENSE*

Everything is a rip off, its not even worth going out anymore / Van Life / Cashless society.

https://youtu.be/QTSusu4o36Y

Two years ago some punk ass kid and his friends were terrorizing my daughters and their friends in my lawn. The kid was throwing rocks at my windows and flower pots and when my kids told him to knock it off, he started getting physical. I told the kid to “get the fuck out of here” and he ran off.

Hours later, two dads show up at my door. One of them my size, the other at least double my size. I’m in decent shape. I’m in the Air Force, I work out to pass my fitness tests. I’m not built, but I’m also not all fat either. The shit got physical with the bigger Dad. He didn’t like hearing that his kid was anything less than an angel and attacked me.

Guns are the great equalizer. I owed that Dad nothing. And I could’ve been much more convincing when I asked him and his punk ass kid to leave if I were armed.

If you’re interested in the story, once the police got involved the other Dad supported my narrative and the big guy got arrested. His wife ended up testifying that he was abusing her as well and he was forced to leave his home. When I went to the police dept to get his name to file a TRO, the officer there informed me that he was being held on charges related to her – not me – and that they knew I had absolutely nothing to worry about anymore.

That was all fine and dandy. But they weren’t there when I needed them. My wife was, and she was helpless. That’s why I feel safer with my gun. I’m not going to answer every door knock with a gun in my hand, but now my wife can do something about it next time shit like that goes down.

OUR FIRST DAYS IN CHINA SHOCKED US! BLOWN AWAY BY ALL THE MODERN TECHNOLOGY IN SHANGHAI 上海

Well, realpolitik.

Bill “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” sent 2 CBGs to steam through the Taiwan strait (which is too shallow for nuclear sub operation) in the late 90s, to show who’s boss in the third Taiwan strait crisis.

Now, here’s a little quiz for the American reader.

When was the last time a CBG steamed through the Taiwan strait?


The fourth Taiwan strait crisis flared up this century in 2022 and is ongoing.

It was sparked by this flight.

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main qimg 52b2284a7ee49885e7a0f9cc64e6a9a0

And where was the Reagan, the CBG in theater?

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main qimg cdf3704cd9e61b4fa4f40e94b772746e

It avoided the SCS, and parked itself off Luzon to provide fighter escort for the final leg of Nancy’s flight.

It left the area and headed northeast after China announced the biggest naval drill in its history, giving Taiwan a wide berth.

Notice anything odd about Nancy’s flight, which took months of planning and originated stateside? It was a long, circuitous route that painstakingly avoided the entire Chinese coast and the SCS. Not only that, the pentagon found the risk unacceptable to fly her in from Guam.

Flee from Taiwan
Flee from Taiwan

Why? Joe is a sissy standing next to Bill? Remember, Newt the Speaker visited both Beijing and Taipei after an extraordinary show of force in 1996.


The original exercise to practice the blockade of taiwan happened in 2022.

In the virgin edition, exclusion zones were enacted 2 days after they were announced.

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main qimg e2d2d3b769f803fc0dbef6530b098b9c

In 2024, after Ching Te’s and Mike’s incendiary and irresponsible speeches in Taipei post-election, the PLA enacted a refined version of the exclusion zones ON DEMAND. The sole announcement was “the exercise commences NOW. Get out.”

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How did the US and partners respond?

They made sure to steer well clear of the entire Chinese coast. Taiwan barely squeaked and stood down from their regular sop of challenging mainland military contact.


Over the past decade, foreign military assets that used to ignore Chinese warnings to turn back have been successfully repelled, including a CBG in the SCS recently that was forced to take evasive action after a h-20 bomber executed a sea hugging attack run targeting the carrier.

Front foot posturing has been dialed down since the spate of inexplicable accidents linked to fatigue. The USN is using the coast guard and partners to fill the gap. Notably, they are giving Taiwan access to Sat-linked reaper drones, which speaks to a degradation of real-time sigint from Okinawa.

Elsewhere, a seawolf class sub met with an accident in the SCS after hitting an undersea mount that “wasn’t supposed to be there”. Kadena has gradually scaled back from permanently deployed f-22 to rotating units of f-15. The keystone of the pacific has shifted permanently to Guam, as america looks to dramatically reduce its presence in Okinawa. Guam represents a strategic retreat of over 2,000km, and its fortified bunkers are protected by a triple air defense of thaad, aegis and patriot—extravagant, by Okinawa standards.

What are American shipyards churning out today?

Arleigh-burkes, virginias and constellations. Chew on this, and take your time.

Meanwhile, marines are being retooled to become a rapid-deploy rocket force. In a nutshell, a 21st century action-at-a-distance pirates of the Caribbean strategy that screams “if we can’t have it, neither can you”.


To be clear, America continues to present a clear and present threat. But its gunboat diplomacy has noticeably diminished decade on decade, and it has increasingly struggled to exert technological superiority. This shows in the deployment of force and the purported war plan.

From “you don’t want to fight us” to open admissions of “we can’t win”.

In another 10-15 years, it will be Americans nodding when the chinese say “you don’t want to fight us”.

https://youtu.be/E27RHHL7BLc

I shall be 87 next month
I am totally deaf, partially blind, and can only read books with difficulty, so it is many years since I read a book, though I can read a computer screen easily
I’m very much overweight, and take pills daily, which I will do for life
Problems with legs and lungs make me largely housebound

I live alone, apart from my cat, but I am lucky in so far as I can look after myself Most of my friends of my generation are gone, and several are severely ill or have dementia, but also several others of my generation are still working

To some extent it is the gene lottery that keeps one going
though not always. My father was ill all his life, and died at 43
He, like my mother, could not swim or ride a bicycle
I could do both, as of course, could everyone of my generation

Both of my grandfathers were illiterate
My mother and father could read, but neither ever read a book
There were no books in the house other than those I got myself

My mother had two still born children prior to myself, and told me that I was a sickly child, so it would seem that neither nurture or Nature favored me

So what is it that keeps one going into old age?
In my case it was largely the Times one was born in
My grandparents born in the 1870–80’s London were poor
They worked full time as young teenagers, so denied an education

My parents born in 1900, were slightly better off, but as young teenagers were caught up in the 1914–18 war and later the Great Depression. They had few choices in life, and simply accepted that surviving was meeting the battles of the day

My generation – 1930’s – were again better off, but there were few people I knew who owned a phone or a car, and even a radio was a luxury, but we did have one thing; WW2

Yes, WW2 had its downsides, but it did provide free travel, and a wide range of opportunities to be educated, and meet people if you were in the military, and if not, work was plentiful.
My mother who had earned a pitiful living as a house cleaner before the war, was now a machine operator in a wartime munitions factory, and getting relatively good money

Wartime, for my generation who are now in the 70–90’s, had to look after themselves. Not so much in the USA, quite a bit in the UK, and totally in war-torn Europe
There was a great sense of purpose that a ‘World fit for heroes’ might exist, though not quite

In answer to the question
‘Is it worth it to live over 80 years?’
My grandparents never knew, nor my parents, though a few crossed the line
It is common enough in my generation, but there is a ‘Dark zone’ where you know that even a slight illness can lead to complications
But today, anyone under 60 will most likely live past 80
and will do so in the knowledge that they are generally a button away from getting help if needed

What can you do if you make it to 80?
Well, if your brain and heart are in relatively good condition, you will be surprised to know that you will feel about 40, or even less

If you want to make it to 80, my advice is go for it
You will not be short of company

EDIT
Several people have commented about their elderly relatives who suffer from illness and loneliness.
It has been suggested that more people die of loneliness than illness, but worse, many who suffer from loneliness are neither ill nor old

Part of the problem is both obvious and yet invisible. Here is a typical 1930’s sitting room of the sort I grew up in. No black boxes with shiny knobs and buttons. Somewhere a large radio; shelves with a few treasured possessions.
Every such room would have a personality of the owner. Designed to be warm and comfortable. One could go into most houses and recognize all the items; a windup clock; a sewing basket; a few books (no TV), a coal fire with coal tongs and poker, and a bucket of coal beside the fire, and a toasting fork

(In this picture you can see a small hand pump on the left hand side of the fireplace. It was used to blow air when you started the fire every day, that is, after you had raked the cinders out, made firelighters out of rolled up newspapers, sorted out unburnt cinders, and cleaned up. You bought small bundles of wood as fire starters, and if you had the money, then you could buy wax covered paper that lit up instantly (what luxury)

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main qimg e4719eb8d9d291ec6503f67a9ba69593 lq

Every technological advancement took away a minor joy. The electric toaster took away the joy of using a toasting fork to make toast in front of an open coal fire that you stared into, as if hypnotized as the coal burnt and created shapes.
The toast would be covered in home made jam. One felt safe in such surroundings

When my mother made an apple pie, I saw her make the dough, roll it out, peel the apples, stoke the cast iron stove, boil the custard, lay the table, poke the pie with a knife to see if it was cooked, then deliver it triumphantly straight from the oven to us as we waited in anticipation
On first taste, we look at her and say ‘It’s delicious, can I have a second helping’. She would smile. It was her way of saying ‘I love you all’, and our way of saying ‘We know you do’

Technology has given us microwave ovens, precooked pies, and tinned custard, but there is one ingredient they left out

That is why the elderly are lonely

Merrick Garland’s DOJ Goes After Putin’s Mouthpieces in US

The Department of Justice, led by U.S. Attorney General Merrick Garland, is investigating individuals in the U.S. with connections to Russian President Vladimir Putin’s state television networks. This inquiry is part of a broader effort to prevent potential Kremlin interference in the 2024 presidential election, as reported by The New York Times.

This development follows recent FBI searches at the homes of Scott Ritter, a former United Nations weapons inspector, U.S. Marine Corps intelligence officer, and convicted sex offender, and Dimitri Simes, a Russian-born former adviser on Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign.

According to The Times and U.S. officials familiar with the case, the FBI is expected to conduct more searches and has not dismissed the possibility of criminal charges.

Ritter has frequently appeared on Russian state media, often echoing Kremlin viewpoints on Putin’s conflict with Ukraine. Simes hosts a weekly current affairs show on Russia’s state-run Channel One.

In January, Ritter visited Chechnya, where he offered a message of “friendship” between the U.S. and Chechnya during a speech in Grozny, the capital. Ritter expressed a desire to foster goodwill between the two regions and predicted a Russian victory in Ukraine. He remarked, “America isn’t a bad place. American people are like you. Good people. The state is a different matter. That’s politics. I’m not a politician. I’m a soldier, like you.”

Simes, who has not been in the U.S. since 2022, characterized the FBI raid as an “attempt to intimidate” those opposing U.S. policies or the “deep state,” in an interview with Russia’s state-run Sputnik News. Ritter also commented on the situation, describing it as a perilous time for Americans and accusing the U.S. government of attempting to deceive and manipulate its citizens.

In late July, the Foreign Malign Influence Center (FMIC), a U.S. intelligence agency operating under the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, warned of Russian attempts to influence the upcoming election between Donald Trump and Democratic candidate Vice President Kamala Harris. The FMIC highlighted that Kremlin-affiliated groups are increasingly deploying actors and influence-for-hire firms based in Russia to shape U.S. public opinion and impact the election.

The agency reported that these firms have developed influence platforms and engaged Americans directly and discreetly, using sophisticated tools to tailor content for U.S. audiences while concealing their Russian origins. “Russian influence actors have made concerted efforts this election cycle to build and leverage networks of U.S. and Western figures to propagate Russian-friendly narratives,” the FMIC stated. The report emphasized Moscow’s ongoing use of a broad array of influence tactics and actors to better disguise its involvement, expand its reach, and create content that resonates with American audiences.

The US’ constant hyping of the “China nuclear threat” theory is a convenient pretext for the US to shirk its obligation of nuclear disarmament, expand its own nuclear arsenal and seek absolute strategic predominance, a spokesperson from China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said on Wednesday, after US media reported President Joe Biden has approved a highly classified nuclear strategic plan that, for the first time, reorients the US’ deterrent strategy to focus on China’s purported expansion of its nuclear arsenal.

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main qimg 53518ec92ace336b7526a340fd3e0271

The New York Times reported on Tuesday that Biden approved the document in March after the Pentagon said it believes China’s nuclear arsenal stockpiles will rival the size and diversity of the US’ and Russia’s over the next decade.

The White House never announced that Biden had approved the revised strategy, called the “Nuclear Employment Guidance,” which seeks to prepare the US for possible coordinated nuclear challenges from China, Russia and North Korea. The document, updated every four years or so, is so highly classified that there are no electronic copies, with only a small number of hard copies distributed to a few national security officials and Pentagon commanders.

The US has called China a “nuclear threat” and used it as a convenient pretext for the US to shirk its obligation of nuclear disarmament, expand its own nuclear arsenal and seek absolute strategic predominance, Mao Ning, spokesperson of China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said at a Wednesday briefing, while stressing China is gravely concerned over the report.

“The size of China’s nuclear arsenal is not on the same level with the US. China follows a policy of ‘no first use’ of nuclear weapons and always keeps its nuclear capabilities at the minimum level required by national security. We have no intention to engage in any form of arms race with others,” Mao said.

“In contrast, the US sits on the largest and most advanced nuclear arsenal in the world. Even so, it clings to a first-use nuclear deterrence policy, and has invested heavily to upgrade its nuclear triad and blatantly devised nuclear deterrence strategies against others. It is the US who is the primary source of nuclear threat and strategic risks in the world,” Mao stated.

The document reflects that the US has reached a level of hysteria when it comes to competition with countries like China. It has even reached a point where it is prepared for a nuclear conflict, which is extremely dangerous, said Li Haidong, a professor at the China Foreign Affairs University.

He said the US’ hype over China’s nuclear arsenal is a tactic to justify and bolster its own nuclear weapons program for political maneuvering and policy objectives.

Deflation Just Started In The United States

Samantha Josephson.

In March of 2019, New Jersey native Samantha was 21, about to graduate from the University of South Carolina, and then go on to law school at Drexel University, where she had a full scholarship.

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On the evening of March 29th, she went out for drinks in downtown Columbia with some friends, but grew tired, and told them she was going to take an Uber back to campus.

But Samantha never made it home. Instead, her body was found by turkey hunters in a rural area 65 miles from Columbia the next day. She’d been stabbed 120 times.

Surveillance footage from local businesses showed Samantha getting into her Uber — a black Chevy Impala.

Except it wasn’t her Uber — that was Samantha’s mistake. The car was owned by 24-year-old Nathaniel Rowland, who had reportedly been driving around the neighborhood hoping someone would mistake it for an Uber. The car had childproof locks engaged, so once Samantha got in, she was trapped, and the terror she must have felt when Rowland began driving in the opposite direction from campus must have been nightmarish.

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We don’t know exactly why Rowland — who had no history of violent crime — killed Samantha. He didn’t know her, had never even met her. The day after the murder, he was posting casually on Facebook as if it was business as usual, even as he still had her phone and blood in his car, and her DNA under his fingernails. It’s believed that he just wanted to kill someone, and Samantha was the person unlucky enough to get into his car. The judge called it a “crime of opportunity”.

Rowland, who was said to be remorseless and emotionless during his trial, was found guilty of first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. It’s terrifying that such people exist (and also why I refuse to use services like Uber or Lyft) — this wasn’t revenge, or jealousy, or greed, it was just murder for the sake of murder.

Samantha Josephson made one simple mistake, and she paid for it with her life.

The Ascending Spacemen

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

Sudarshan Varadhan

The airlock of the space habitat swung open, revealing the two fully-suited spacemen. Their costumes were dull white with tinted blue helmets and golden reflective visors. The two spacemen stepped out into the grey alien planet, retrieved their long probes, and prodded the surroundings around them. Their equipment beeped and notified them of the collecting data.

The mounds of greyish-blue sand camouflaged the space habitat with the grey mountain ranges behind it. The spacemen’s shoes crunched in the planet’s stillness. The crepuscular rays beaming from the dense clouds above them, and the dazzling blue light filtering through the dark dense clouds resembled a Renaissance painting of a divine figure coming down to earth.

For the past three months, an abhorrent storm had obscured the entire sky. The nightmarish winds had descended on the exoplanet habitat of planet Duern Q861. Its wrath reverberated upon the habitat like thunder with large stones crashing upon the habitat. Everything had become pitch black outside the planet’s habitat and the connections to Earth were lost during this brief period. With the passing days, the Spacemen’s supplies depleted, and without communication, the mission was at risk of failure.

           After three months, the storm’s ferocity had diminished to nearly nothing. It took days before anything moved around the Space Habitat, Duern Q861A, while the structure remained in the heaps of grey dust settled upon it. After several weeks, there was some movement around the space habitat. The habitat airlocks opened and three white drones flew out to scout the surroundings, gliding, and sailing in three different directions and disappearing into the distance to collect samples. Following the drones, came out the spacemen with their equipment analyzing the surroundings thoroughly and observing the readings until midday. The spaceman looked to his left; the dark clouds were thundering along the horizon but their crackling was vibrating the ground beneath them. Then the spacemen opened the larger airlock, boarded the big carrier rover, and drove toward the small habitat located a mile away from the big habitat.

The dust rose behind the spacemen when the carrier rover drove through the barren grey desert. Ahead of these minuscule spacemen, grey and white sands stretched till the mountain range extended into the horizon. The dull-white mountains looked like raging ocean tides at the storm, captured and frozen in time. These gigantic mountains witnessed the spacemen, the habitat, and everything below as they stood arrogant and untouched by the ferocious storm. Within the valleys of these mountains, enormous caverns and craters existed, which sometimes resembled a dragon’s lair from the fairy tales.

Despite the rover reaching the location of the small habitat, the enormous building was not visible. The two spacemen got down from their rover and began walking to the habitat. The building was oddly missing from their view, and they searched around, their eyes scanning the location. Soon they noticed metals, glass, and many open electrical wires crackling. The entire small habitat was in ruins and under the dunes of dust. They stood on the ruins of the habitat. It surprised them to see the broken pieces of the small habitat buried in the sand. They built these structures specifically to resist heavy storm winds and the impacts of earthquakes. But now standing on its destroyed remains is grave news.

The two spacemen stood there in dismay and shock. The winds wailed in the distance, and the dust from the dunes flew along with the passing breeze. In the deep silence, their pacing heartbeats were audible. Their visors were fogging because of their wheezing warm breath. The spacewoman saw the spaceman’s face twist with shock and bewilderment.

After a moment, his face turned stern and he spoke in his microphone, “The storm has destroyed the small habitat, Duern Q861B. And based on the settlement of dust remains, we cannot estimate when this happened. We hope to retrieve our data soon.”

“Yeah. I agree, but we need to dig and find the system data. Maybe our samples might still be undamaged,” replied the spacewoman over her microphone.

“We must terminate our mission if it is compromised,” told the spaceman. The spacewoman kneeled on the soft grey dirt. But she widened her eyes and blinked hard, struggling not to cry. Crying is uncomfortable in a spacesuit.

The spaceman agreed and began looking through the crumbled remains of the habitat to detect the samples through the metal and glass. He also hoped the sample would be all right, but he felt his heart palpitating under the thick suit and a panic attack missing him by inches. He stood tall and practiced a few breathing techniques before starting his excavation work. Soon they were walking amongst the ruins and moving the metal and glass with their shovels looking for their samples. Their precious samples.

They spent over twenty minutes digging into the sand and shoving away the heavy metals. As they kept working, they found the shards of reinforced glasses of the habitat. The Spaceman kept pushing the grey sand aside and the planet was turning colder by the minute. Then underneath one of the broken green glasses, he found the samples. They found several broken black boxes, and the Spaceman reached inside one of them and pulled some dried leaves out. It was a small leaf, almost as small and circular as the size of a bottle cap, and brownish-orange as an autumn leaf. It is the first plant cultivated on this distant, dusty planet. Out of the sixty different plant species sent with these spacemen, only this plant thrived on this terrain because of its ability to burst its pollens for extensive ranges, and they also have a longer life span.

But now the last of those plants had also died. With the entire habitat sinking into the grey sand, the plant samples crumbled under its collapsing weight. Along with it, the spacemen’s remaining hope too. The spaceman picked up the dead plant and displayed it to the spacewoman. She was still digging the ground and halted when she saw it. She came close and examined it before putting it in one of her spacesuit compartments. They both took another black box and safeguarded it in the carrier rover’s portable cryogenic chamber.

The spaceman clicked the radio button on the side of his helmet as his hands felt sweaty under those thick gloves. His hands trembled, and he felt the nerve on his temples pump and pain. With a big deep breath, the spaceman recorded into his AV radio that their mission is a failure. Although there was no voice from the other side, only static radio buzzing, he recorded the situation on his radio.

He noticed the spacewoman from his peripheral. She had fallen on her knees and began whispering prayers to her gods. He didn’t feel like summoning the gods because they already knew his plight and yet watched upon them without mercy. The spacemen had made detailed plans to save their dying planet and terraform DuernQ861. But they realized their plan had led to an imminent and predetermined defeat. It felt like a tragic destiny, a cruel ploy to humiliate them, to give them hope only to crush it. The spacemen whispered his father’s words, “For they sculpted the fire and it burnt them”

The spaceman loosened his shoulder and looked up at the dark sky for some hope, or some answers. He stared at all the million lights above, shining and flickering. Amongst those stars in the sky, the spaceman saw a small distant blue dot. He stared at it for a while, squinting his eyes. Just for a moment, his mind voyaged to that planet. The elated people, the green grass, the rainy days with the hot coffees, a cold bed on a summer night, and the warm smooch of the sun on the face. The toxicity of breathing air, decomposed food, loss of peaceful sleep, and pain of crumbling starvation in the midriff. He tried to forget the sound of the horrible war cries, the deafening roar of the dropping bombs and gunfire. He tried shaking the memory of holding his family in his arms while hiding in the wardrobe, waiting for the screams to settle. It all ended with the high pitch whistling of the rocket engine.

The spaceman coughed, and his knees trembled. Within moments his legs gave up, and he fell to the ground on his knees as well, while trying hard to breathe. He tried pulling his thoughts off of it but was futile. He saw the blood, the bodies, the wails, and the orphans. He kept fighting his thoughts, which spiraled painfully within his mind. With a deep breath, he summoned his inner voice to convince himself of the reality, “Gone is everything, gone before you knew, gone before you left. Gone before you hoped. Gone far, far away amidst the storm.”

The loud alarm beeped and his pocket vibrated, rescuing him from his thoughts. The spacewoman pulled out her electronic monitoring tablet and clicked some buttons. Then she hurried to the carrier rover and viewed it through the built-in emergency systems. With panic and confusion sweating from her face, the spaceman heard her through the intercom, “The drones have found something in the eastern valley!”

“We’ll see what it is. Come”, the spaceman said and ran over to the rover, but the spacewoman stood motionless and hesitant.

“What happened?” he asked confused.

“What if it comes back?” asked the spacewoman, putting her device inside her suit’s compartment. The spaceman nodded, and she told, “The storm might swirl again. It’s better we must go back to the habitat now.”

“No… we need to see what the drones have found,” the spaceman protested, “What if it is some help or supplies? Maybe someone else landed here. Maybe a rescue team! I think it is a rescue team,” said the spaceman as the spacewoman shook her head in disagreement. “Maybe the war is over and they have come for us. We need to check this out”

 “There is no help, Manuel!” snapped the Spacewoman as she pleaded into the microphone, “If they cared, they would contact us, but no! They have left us here to die on this planet! This is the reality. Get this in your head!”

The spaceman stared at her, his fury rising with his excitement, “I still hope otherwise, I feel it. Just think, what if?”

The spacewoman scoffed and yelled, “But what if there is no rescue? What if the storm returns and carries us away with it?”

“I don’t mind!” sneered the spaceman swinging his arms around the rover and climbing over it. “We either die out here or rot in that damned habitat all alone. I don’t want to go back. It stinks like death and blood in there. Wherever the drones are and whatever it has found, I’m going there. If it is death, so be it. All I’m asking you now is…” he paused, holding back his tears, “are you coming with me?”

The spacewoman stared through her golden visor for a minute and gaited to the rover and told, “It will take at least 6 hours to reach there. Buckle up then” and so they buckled to the rover and drove the rover at its maximum speed, about 20km/hr. This rover was the fastest ever built to overcome obstacles and the uneven alien terrain with its large tires and fantastic suspension systems.

The journey took a long time since the eastern valley was several miles away. The tired spacemen knew the travel would be more tiring, but it didn’t matter to them. After hours upon hours of steering through the dusty mountain path, they arrived at the eastern valley and spotted the drone flying high above the location, which hovered just for the spacemen’s reference. While the other two were scanning the environment. It took another hour to drive through the steep grounds to the drone location. They stopped the carrier rover several feet before a large cavern opening.

  The two spacemen unbuckled themselves and trod towards the cavern’s opening. They saw an exposed cavern with a wide opening – a gigantic crater. The crater was as massive as hundred football fields. The crater was so gigantic that these two spacemen were almost the size of bugs in front of it.

  Both the spacemen were dumbfounded and confused by their very own sight. Their eyes didn’t blink, their body had stopped sweating, their jaws were wide open, and they drew their breaths in. The enormous crater was bleeding vivid red and orange. Out of the crater, many red and orange circular particles ascended. The floating particles were as small as bottle caps. The beautiful pollens sailed in the wind like dandelion seeds while the red leaves of the plant brushed one another.

The entire opening had become a garden spread out in the wild environment. Throughout the crater, for miles, the flowers had flourished and the plant brushed against one another, rustling. The crater’s inclined plane curved down and in the middle of the crater, they noticed something transparent reflecting the bluish-gray hue of the sky. The most fundamental source of life; Liquid Water.

The spacemen knew that the water could have come from the underground water source of this planet. Perhaps an asteroid had struck this planet centuries ago, and this has brought the underground liquid water gushing to the bottom of this crater. The strong winds had brought the plant’s pollen from the ruins of the small habitat to this crater several miles away. The pollens could have settled down in this crater by the large lake glimmering in the semi-darkness. With water and the crater protecting the plants from the storm, plant life has thrived here.

“Look! An alien!” a man’s voice echoed from behind the two spacemen pointing at the crater’s garden. The spaceman turned around and saw five other spacemen standing behind them. The joke had cracked them all up. The spaceman couldn’t see their face clearly through their visor, but he remembered their face and their codenames. There was Green, Zweig, Signature, Trident, and Clicky. All of them were in their spacesuit with their actual names labeled on their chests. He looked at them in surprise, and his eyes couldn’t avert from them.

The five laughed, and the spaceman watching them heard their hysterical laugh through his intercom. Upon the paceman’s face, a smile developed, and he began snorting and chuckling. He looked at Clicky leaning on the rover and laughing at his terrible joke, and the spaceman predicted Zweig would smile under his visor, guessing by his rigid body language. The other three were giggling at Clicky’s uncontrollable laughing rather than his joke. Signature turned to the spaceman and shook his head in agreement. The orange and red pollen flew across them all, and the planet’s home star began rising in the west, behind the five other spacemen. The scene was exquisite, yet quite disturbing.

The spaceman looked at them and reluctantly blinked, unwilling to let go of what he was witnessing. When he opened his eyes, as he had expected, the five spacemen had disappeared into the weak breeze. His eyes teared up as his visors fogged and he heard his breath in the pressurizing silence. He closed his eyes once again, this time tightly shutting them not to let his tears out. Crying is uncomfortable in the spacesuit.

He knew the other spacemen were resting peacefully in the underground cryogenic chamber inside the big habitat. Drifting in their dreams in a world far away, or maybe they were back on earth reliving an alternate yet happier reality. If a rescue team comes to find them or accidentally stumbles upon this planet, they would find the well-preserved corpses of these spacemen.

He again re-opened his eyes once more to revisit the figment. He saw the vast expanse of the dusty terrain. His throat narrowed, and his nose was cramping. But his palpitating heart had oddly calmed, and the trembling finger became still and numb. He couldn’t decide whether to be glad or glum while both blew his way.

The spaceman then turned to look beside him at the spacewoman. She, too, had vanished with the others without a trace. He sighed and gulped heavily as his eye scanned the large valley of the vivid red and orange plant. He rose his hands and touched the floating seed. Although he couldn’t feel it through his spacesuit, he still felt the wind, and a tickling sensation ran down his arm. He smiled, and with a breath drawn in, he began chuckling and then laughing. The drones were still collecting samples and buzzing around like children in a park. The pleasantly delighted spaceman’s smile never left. He sighed with relief and closed his eyes, relishing in the present moment. They have accomplished the mission despite the absolute hurdles.

He gazed at the dancing alien plant field on this strange planet far from earth. He thought of the divine play portrayed ahead of him and the absurdity of the entire ordeal. He laughed hysterically as though he had found unintelligible humor in it, as his feet rose in the air, and he ascended. With grace, his entire body floated up the sky like an air balloon as the light brushed through his golden visor and into his face. Amongst the endless stars filling the sky above, a brilliant-blue dot twinkled brighter than ever.

The spaceman, just like his other crew members, disappeared into the breeze without a remnant. His laughter still echoed and haunted the wind until it faded. The red and orange field rustled to the weak wind glimmering to the light of the new dawn. The passing wind blew from the distance as it buried the footprints under the grey layers of sand. Duern Q861 became silent, its grey dust settled, and life began thriving again.

True story!

About 6 years back I worked at an insurance company. One day I met a fellow employee, we’ll call him Greg. Greg likes to golf ,so do I. With that being said Greg starts joining a group of us that golfed on Wednesday nights. We would all meet up and go play 9 holes. One night we met at a course close to Greg’s house, about 10–12 blocks from him. I had never been to this course. As we go to walk in, I noticed they had signage on their door. I let everyone know I’ll be right back. Greg ask me where I’m going. I replied I got to lock my gun up in the car,I’ll be right back. Upon my return Greg says, ya know you don’t need that thing this is a really safe neighborhood, I live close by and there’s never been any trouble. I replied that’s good to know. We golfed and had a great time.

About 2 weeks later…Greg doesn’t show up for work. It’s Wednesday and our usual group will be gathering to play our weekly round. As we all get to the course I ask if anyone has heard from Greg because it just seemed unusual that he didn’t call or anything. Three days later, no Greg at work still and nobody has heard from him. I finally call him to see if he’s ok. No answer…text no response.

Greg comes to work Monday and walks into my office. He was a clean shaven bald guy..his head had many stitches. He had two black eyes and a broken nose. He was also missing 2 teeth. My first response was OMG are you ok. My first inclination was that he had been in a car accident.He had been in the hospital almost the entire week.

He replied no I’m not ok. Will you help me pick out a gun after work tonight. My home was invaded at 4 am last Wednesday morning and they beat me with a shotgun in my face.

Does that answer your question?

Chili Casserole with Cornbread

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Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients

1 pound lean ground beef
1 (16 ounce) jar salsa
1 (15 1/2 ounce) can dark red kidney beans
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced peeled tomatoes
1 1/2 cups Niblets frozen corn
3 teaspoons chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 (8 1/2 ounce) package cornbread mix
Milk
Margarine
Egg, if required by mix
1/3 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
1 teaspoon sliced green onions

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
In large skillet over medium-high heat, brown ground beef; drain.
Stir in salsa, kidney beans, tomatoes, corn, chili powder and cumin. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring occasionally.
Meanwhile, prepare cornbread as directed on package using milk and, if required, margarine and egg.
Spoon cornbread batter around outside edge of ungreased 12 x 8 inch (2 quart) baking dish.
Spoon hot beef mixture into center. (Casserole will be full.)
Bake at 400 degrees F for 18 minutes.
Sprinkle with cheese; bake an additional 4 to 5 minutes or until cheese is melted and cornbread is deep golden brown.
Sprinkle with green onions just before serving.

A Pen Story

That’s how the idea came about: why not use a ball-shaped metal nib for writing? This is how the pen was born. László József Biro shared his idea with his brother György, a chemist, and together they began researching and experimenting to create a new type of pen based on this concept. Finally, they found the perfect combination: a viscous ink and a tip with a small ball that rotated freely, preventing the ink from drying out and controlling its flow. They presented their invention at the Budapest International Fair in 1931 and patented it in 1938, although they did not market it immediately. With the start of World War II, the brothers emigrated to Argentina, where they founded a company in a garage. Although they were initially unsuccessful due to the high cost of the product, they secured a contract with the British Air Force, which boosted their popularity. In 1943, they licensed their invention to Eversharp Faber in the United States for $2 million. In 1950, Marcel Bich acquired the rights and, on the recommendation of an advertising expert, dropped the “h” from his surname and founded the company BICGroup. In that year, they launched the first BIC Cristal, one of the most perfect designs ever created, of which more than 20 million units are sold every day around the world. Since 1953, more than 100 billion BIC Cristals have been manufactured, making it the best-selling pen of all time.

Most definitely.

I was out hiking. I leave my wallet in my car when doing so, and only carry my ID in a zippered pocket, in case I come across a bear on a date with a woman and they get over protective and eat me (yes I’m making a joke out of that stupid Man vs bear in the woods scenario, sue me).

Anyhoo. A homeless camp had been set up off the trail. I’d say maybe 25-30 yards away from the main trail. But the homeless were out and about, begging the hikers for money.

With my luck, a particularly aggressive homeless man kept asking me for money. I tried ignoring him but he decided to keep following me, around my 8 o clock position. He moved to my 11 and started demanding money or he was going to “take it himself”.

At that point I drew my back up guns back up, a .38 +p snubby. I told him to back off several times and tried increasing my distance. At that point he was probably 10-12 ft from me. I stopped walking, faced him, and walked backwards, making sure to keep him in my full view.

I started yelling at him to back away before he ends up being coyote chow. I was hoping another hiker would appear, or something. I prayed I wouldn’t have to follow through on my threat.

He didn’t believe me and decided to walk fast at me, and I sadly put a round dead center. I immediately shifted my weapon to my off hand while keeping it trained on him, and called 9 11.

Eventually officers and EMS responded. I was detained and my weapon taken, and an investigation started. The homeless guy didn’t end up as wild life food, and survived. After a lengthy legal ordeal I wasn’t charged with anything and got my gun back.

When it boils down to it, if it’s between me going home or another person going home, I’m sorry but I’m the one going home, and the other party has three choices. 1. Home 2. Hospital 3. Morgue

Written by Hal Turner

November 28, 2024

Most Americans continue to believe that the United States will prevail in a conventional war with Russia. That is simply not the case.

For starters, Russia’s state-of-the-art missile technology and missile defense systems are vastly superior to those produced by western weapons manufacturers.

Secondly, Russia can field an army of more than 1 million battle-hardened combat troops (honed in Ukraine) who have experienced high-intensity warfare and are prepared to engage whatever enemy they may face in the future.

Third, the United States no longer has the industrial capacity to match Russia’s impressive output of lethal weaponry, artillery shells, ammunition, and cutting-edge ballistic missiles.

In short, Russian military capability far exceeds that of the US in the areas that really count: High-tech weaponry, military industrial capacity, and experienced manpower.

In order to drive this overall point home, I’ve taken excerpts from the work of three military analysts who explain these matters in greater detail underscoring the dramatic shortcomings of the modern US military and the problems it is likely to encounter when faced with a more technologically advanced and formidable adversary.

The first excerpt is from an article by Alex Vershinin titled The Return of Industrial Warfare:

The war in Ukraine has proven that the age of industrial warfare is still here. The massive consumption of equipment, vehicles and ammunition requires a large-scale industrial base for resupply – quantity still has a quality of its own…. The rate of ammunition and equipment consumption in Ukraine can only be sustained by a large-scale industrial base.

This reality should be a concrete warning to Western countries, who have scaled down military industrial capacity and sacrificed scale and effectiveness for efficiency. This strategy relies on flawed assumptions about the future of war, and has been influenced by both the bureaucratic culture in Western governments and the legacy of low-intensity conflicts. Currently, the West may not have the industrial capacity to fight a large-scale war….

The Capacity of the West’s Industrial Base

The winner in a prolonged war between two near-peer powers is still based on which side has the strongest industrial base. A country must either have the manufacturing capacity to build massive quantities of ammunition or have other manufacturing industries that can be rapidly converted to ammunition production. Unfortunately, the West no longer seems to have either…. In a recent war game involving US, UK and French forces, UK forces exhausted national stockpiles of critical ammunition after eight days….

Flawed Assumptions The first key assumption about future of combat is that precision-guided weapons will reduce overall ammunition consumption by requiring only one round to destroy the target. The war in Ukraine is challenging this assumption….. The second crucial assumption is that industry can be turned on and off at will….. Unfortunately, this does not work for military purchases. There is only one customer in the US for artillery shells – the military. Once the orders drop off, the manufacturer must close production lines to cut costs to stay in business. Small businesses may close entirely. Generating new capacity is very challenging, especially as there is so little manufacturing capacity left to draw skilled workers from….. The supply chain issues are also problematic because subcomponents may be produced by a subcontractor who either goes out of business, with loss of orders or retools for other customers or who relies on parts from overseas, possibly from a hostile country…. Conclusion The war in Ukraine demonstrates that war between peer or near-peer adversaries demands the existence of a technically advanced, mass scale, industrial-age production capability….. For the US to act as the arsenal of democracy in defence of Ukraine, there must be a major look at the manner and the scale at which the US organises its industrial base…. If competition between autocracies and democracies has really entered a military phase, then the arsenal of democracy must first radically improve its approach to the production of materiel in wartime. The Return of Industrial Warfare, Alex Vershinin, Rusi Bottom line: The United States no longer has the industrial base or the requisite stockpiles to prevail in a prolonged war between two near-peer powers. Simply put, the US will not win an extended conventional war with Russia. Here’s how analyst Lee Slusher summed it up in a recent post on Twitter:

…. . The US effectively had monopolies on many decisive capabilities, like precision-guided munitions, night-vision, global strike, etc. I think the absence of high-intensity conflict between the US and other nations had a lot to do with these asymmetries. There was no need for the US to apply mass when its advanced capabilities—or even just the threat of them—were sufficient to achieve political aims…..

The list of nations with advanced capabilities continues to grow. At the same time, Western militaries and defense industrial bases continue to erode.

The West exchanged its large standing armies for a reliance on boutique American capabilities that were once decisive but are now increasingly commonplace. This has left the West without its technological edge and without its previous military mass.

Those who still believe in US military supremacy fail to realize these changes. Worse still, most of them entertain cartoonishly underrated notions about Russian military capabilities. They fail to realize Russia has both a technological edge and military mass. Th reputation the US military had was deserved for a time, but everything changes. Lee Slusher @LeeBTConsulting

Bottom Line: America’s adversaries—Russia, China, Iran—have either caught up to or surpassed the US in advanced missile technology, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles(UAV), electronic warfare, cutting-edge missile defense systems etc.—which is gradually increasing parity between the states while ending the period of US military supremacy. The American century is rapidly drawing to a close.

Let’s move on to military analyst Number 2, Will Schyver, who draws similar conclusions to those of Vershinin but from a slightly different angle. Check it out:

I am more convinced than ever that the US could NOT establish air superiority against Russia — not in a week; not in a year. Never. It simply could not be done. It would be a logistical power projection challenge well beyond the current capabilities of the United States military.

American air power would prove substantially inferior to the extremely potent and abundantly supplied air defenses fielded by the Russians.

Just as the majority of HIMARS-launched GMLRS rockets, HARMS missiles, ATACMS missiles, and British Storm Shadow missiles are now being shot down in Ukraine, the vast majority of US long-range precision-guided missiles would be shot down, and the US would very rapidly deplete its limited inventory of these munitions in a futile attempt to overwhelm the Russian capacity to keep shooting back.

American suppression of enemy air defenses would prove inadequate to the task of defeating extremely sophisticated, deeply layered, and highly mobile air defense radars and missiles….

the war in Ukraine has made perfectly clear that all manner of western air defense systems are inferior to even the decades-old Soviet S-300 and Buk systems that Ukraine originally deployed. And even if western systems were formidable, they simply don’t exist in anything approaching the numbers necessary to provide credible defense in broad scope and depth.

To complicate matters even further, scant US munitions inventory and insuperable production limitations would allow the US to prosecute an air war against Russia or China for only a few weeks at most.

Moreover, in a high-intensity combat scenario in either eastern Europe, the China seas, or the Persian Gulf, the maintenance demands for US aircraft would overwhelm its proximate supply. Mission-capable rates would plummet even lower than their notoriously abysmal peacetime standards.

The US would, quite literally after only a few days, see sub-10% mission-capable rates for the F-22 and F-35, and sub-25% rates for almost every other platform in the inventory. It would be a huge embarrassment for the Pentagon … but hardly a huge surprise…..

Simply put, US air power as a theater-wide undertaking could not be sustained in the context of a non-permissive regional and global battlefield against one or more peer adversaries.

In eastern Europe, Russia would savage NATO bases and supply routes. The Baltic and Black seas would effectively become Russian lakes where NATO shipping could not venture….

Many are convinced these are unfounded hysterical assertions. In my view, the simple military, mathematical, and geographic realities of the situation dictate these conclusions, and those who resist them are typically blinded by the myth of American exceptionalism and its attendant ills to such a degree that they are unable to discern things as they really are….

I am increasingly persuaded that, if the US chooses to make direct war against either Russia, China, or Iran, it will result in a war against all three simultaneously.

And that, amazingly enough, is just one of multiple hard truths that the #EmpireAtAllCosts cult, and those acquiescing to its delusional designs, ought to give more serious consideration as they continue staggering towards the abyss of a war they could never win…. Staggering Towards the Abyss, Will Schryver, Substack

There’s a lot to chew on here but, in essence, Schryver is weighing Russia’s impressive air defense capability against America’s “scant munitions inventory and insuperable production limitations”, the combination of which suggests that a US military offensive would likely peter-out before inflicting serious damage on the enemy. Once again, our military analyst infers that the United States will not win in a direct confrontation with Russia.

Finally, we’ve excerpted a longer blurb from Kit Klarenberg who is more of an investigative journalist than military analyst. In a piece titled Collapsing Empire: China and Russia Checkmate US Military, Klarenberg details, what he calls the “unrelentingly bleak analysis of every aspect of the Empire’s bloated, decaying global war machine.”

If even half of what the author says is true, then we can be reasonably certain that the United States escalation with Russia is the fast track to a military catastrophe unlike anything the world has seen since the fall of Berlin in May, 1945. Take a look:

On July 29th, …. RAND Corporation published a landmark appraisal of the state of the Pentagon’s 2022 National Defense Strategy (NDS), and current US military readiness… Its findings are stark, an unrelentingly bleak analysis of every aspect of the Empire’s bloated, decaying global war machine. In brief, the US is “not prepared” in any meaningful way for serious “competition” with its major adversaries – and vulnerable or even significantly outmatched in every sphere of warfare…. the Empire’s worldwide dominance, are judged to be at best woefully inadequate, at worst outright delusional.

From the Rand Report:

“We believe the magnitude of the threats the US faces is understated and significantly worse…In many ways, China is outpacing the US…in defense production and growth in force size and, increasingly, in force capability and is almost certain to continue to do so…[Beijing] has largely negated the US military advantage in the Western Pacific through two decades of focused military investment. Without significant change by the US, the balance of power will continue to shift in China’s favor.”

“At minimum, the US should assume that if it enters a direct conflict involving Russia, China, Iran, or North Korea, that country will benefit from economic and military aid from the others…This new alignment of nations opposed to US interests creates a real risk, if not likelihood, that conflict anywhere could become a multi-theater or global war…As US adversaries are cooperating more closely together than before, the US and its allies must be prepared to confront an axis of multiple adversaries.” Commission on the National Defense, Rand

As the Commission report spells out in forensic detail, Washington would be almost completely defenceless in such a scenario, and likely defeated nigh on instantly…. It’s not just being spread too thinly across the Grand Chessboard that means the Empire’s military “lacks both the capabilities and the capacity required to be confident it can deter and prevail in combat.”…

The RAND Commission found Washington’s “defense industrial base” is completely “unable to meet the equipment, technology, and munitions needs” of the US, let alone its allies. “A protracted conflict, especially in multiple theaters, would require much greater capacity to produce, maintain, and replenish weapons and munitions” than is currently in place….

For decades, the US military “employed cutting-edge technology to its decisive advantage for decades.” This “assumption of uncontested technological superiority” on the Empire’s part meant Washington had “the luxury to build exquisite capabilities, with long acquisition cycles and little tolerance for failure or risk.” Those days are long over though, with China and Russia “incorporating technology at accelerating speed”….. America’s “defense industrial base” is today crumbling, riddled with a myriad of deleterious issues…

To address these problems, the Commission calls… to re-industrialize the US after years of outsourcing, offshoring and neglect. No timeframe is provided, although it would likely take decades…..

We have entered a strange, late-stage Empire era, comparable to the Soviet Union’s Glasnost, in which elements of the US imperial brain-trust can see with blinding clarity Washington’s entire hegemonic global project is stumbling rapidly and irreversibly towards extinction… Collapsing Empire: China and Russia Checkmate US Military, Kit Klarenberg, Substack

Once again, we see the same criticisms reiterated over and over again : Insufficient industrial capacity, dwindling stockpiles, “insuperable production limitations”, and diminished technological superiority. When we add these to the myriad logistical problems of conducting a war in eastern Europe with an ad hoc army of inexperienced volunteers who have never seen combat, we can only conclude that the United States cannot and will not prevail in a prolonged conflict with Russia. Even so, Washington continues to fire ATACMS missiles into Russia (13 more were launched over the past two days) apparently believing that there will be no response to the provocation. Even so, NATO Command continues to entertain illusions of victory by pressing for preemptive “precision strikes” on Russian territory welcoming the prospect of a direct conflagration between NATO and Russia. And even though, both France and the UK threaten to deploy combat troops to Ukraine thinking the inexorable trajectory of the war can somehow be reversed. It’s madness.

Five centuries of primacy have produced a cadre of western elites so drunk with hubris that they are incapable of seeing what is painfully obvious to everyone else, that the imperial model of western exploitation (the ‘rules-based order’) is collapsing and that new centers of power are rapidly emerging.

It appears now that these same elites are prepared to drag the world into a catastrophic Third World War to preserve their grip on power and to prevent other nations from achieving the independence and prosperity they’ve earned. Fortunately, Washington will fail in this effort just as it has failed in all its other interventions dating back to 1945. Because the United States no longer has the technology, manpower or industrial capacity needed to win a war with Russia.

It’s a whole new ballgame.

NEW ORESHNIK MISSILE SINGULARLY CHANGED GLOBAL BALANCE OF POWER

Russia’s use of an Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile, which they call “Oreshnik” (in English “Hazel”) has utterly changed the global balance of power. It is a non-nuclear weapon system that mimics nuclear destruction levels. It cannot be intercepted, and hits with pinpoint accuracy.

  • Below are the Key Points from Putin’s Statements on the Oreshnik Missile System at the CSTO Meeting:
  • The General Staff and the Ministry of Defense are currently selecting targets for the Oreshnik missile to be destroyed on Ukrainian territory.
  • Decision-making centers in Kyiv could become a target for the Oreshnik.
  • In the event of a massive use of the Oreshnik, the force of the strike will be comparable to nuclear weapons.
  • The Oreshnik missile system is capable of striking deep-sea and well-protected targets.
  • The Russian Federation will continue combat tests of the Oreshnik in response to enemy actions.
  • The Russian Federation has begun serial production of the Oreshnik.

There are no analogues to the Russian “Oreshnik” in the world, and they will not appear anytime soon.

The Message Behind the Missile

Putin’s remarks on the Oreshnik missile system are not just about showcasing Russia’s technological prowess, they’re a clear signal to the West that the era of unchallenged NATO dominance is over.

The Oreshnik, capable of delivering strikes comparable to nuclear force, represents a seismic shift in the global balance of power. Its ability to obliterate deep-sea and well-protected targets renders much of the West’s defensive posturing obsolete. This is not a weapon of escalation; it’s a weapon of deterrence, designed to compel adversaries to rethink their delusions of invincibility.

The implications are staggering. As serial production ramps up, Moscow is effectively telling NATO: “Push us further, and we will respond with overwhelming force.”

The potential targeting of decision-making centers in Kiev underscores the Kremlin’s resolve to dismantle the very infrastructure sustaining the Western-backed puppet and the West’s aggression.

For all of Washington’s talk of deterrence, it is now clear that Russia has redefined the concept entirely. The Oreshnik isn’t just a missile—it’s a doctrine, a declaration that Russia’s red lines are not negotiable.

The West should take heed: this is not a bluff, nor is it a gesture for theater. It’s the cold reality of a multipolar world where the rules are no longer dictated from Washington. The choice is clear: de-escalate, or face consequences that no amount of NATO summitry can reverse.

Job Security CRISIS! PEOPLE VERY WORRIED ABOUT LOSING THEIR JOB!

Coffee Chinese style

Coffee is big news in China. It is really popular.

But, no! It’s not “traditional” American-style coffee.

It’s something else quite different.

Different ways it is served. Different flavors. Different combinations. Different. Different. Different.

But, ah, you know…you can still get a coffee at McDonald’s, or at Starbucks, or at KFC, or at KFC. But many Chinese opt to go to the many thousands of different coffee tastes available to them.

coffee2
coffee2

coffee1
coffee1

Onion flavor.

Yes. You can buy it and drink it all up.

Duran flavor, stinky toufu flavor. Hard alcohol flavor. Beef with curry flavor… so many different flavors all over the place.

Onion ring flavor. carrot with peppermint flavor.

Chunky texture coffee.

Smooth texture coffee.

Hyper cold and boiling hot blend coffee…

WTF?

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Let’s be honest, for a majority of us, a cup of coffee is more than just a beverage — it’s a vital energy booster that kickstarts our day or acts as a midday pick me up. While the purists might lean towards a classic Americano or simple espresso, there are those who relish more adventurous tastes. We’ve compiled a list of some of the most bizarre and quirky coffee flavors you can discover in the city — from a surprising 皮蛋 pídàn to unconventional 豆汁儿 dòuzhīr, and beyond!

Zaijiuye Coffee

This establishment boasts a curious collection of coffee concoctions, each twinned with a nostalgic nod to a Beijing childhood treat. The sesame paste-laced coffee, when coupled with a 双棒儿 Shuāng bàng er (a milk-flavored ice cream pop with two sticks — hence the name), makes for a lovely treat. Everything combines to create a hazelnut-like taste, as the sesame paste and ice cream soften the coffee’s bitterness.

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Have you tried the heavenly combo of coffee and Shuangbang’er?

The place also dares to pair a douzhir-infused Americano with 焦圈儿 Jiāo quānr (a deep-fried dough circle similar to a 油条 yóutiáo). Douzhir, a fermented Beijing specialty marked by a subtle sourness and an egg-like scent, may not be to everyone’s liking. However, for any Beijing local worth their salt, it’s a twist they can’t resist exploring.

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How about a douzhir-flavored Americano paired with Jiaoquan?

Zaijiuye Coffee 
16 Shatanhou Street, Dongcheng district
东城区沙滩后街16号
Hours: 11am-7pm
Phone:184 1100 7574


Liquid House 

If you think douzhir and sesame paste coffees are crazy, then let us introduce you to pidan (aka century egg) and 酱豆腐 Jiàng dòufu (fermented tofu). Dreamt up by Liquid House, this drink features a pidan skewer resting atop your latte. The owner recommends taking the skewered century egg resting atop the brew, mashing it up, and mixing it all together to get the most out of it. It’s a delight for those with a palate for pidan, but might not be the preferred choice for those unaccustomed to its distinctive flavor.

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Fancy a sip of this Pidan Latte?

Liquid House 后院儿
Room 314, 3/F, Building 2, Huafangxintiandi, Courtyard 27, Qingnian Road, Chaoyang district
朝阳区青年路27号院华纺新天地2号楼3层314室
Hours: 10am-7pm
Phone:186 1812 0103


Phoenix Café 

Imagine the sensation when your coffee mingles with the zest of hotpot flavors. At Phoenix Café, prepare to have your perceptions about coffee challenged with their distinctive creation termed 油碟儿 Yóu dié er. Drawing inspiration from the traditional youdie’er, which is a chili-oil-based dipping sauce savored during hotpot sessions, particularly in Chongqing, this coffee blends the most unconventional ingredients. It features chili strands, tangerine peels, and a dash of white vinegar, ingredients you’d least expect in a cup of coffee.

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Get ready for a taste adventure with this Chongqing Hotpot-inspired beverage!

Phoenix Cafe 梧桐咖啡
69 Dongsibei Street, Dongcheng district
东城区东四北大街69号
Hours: 10am-7pm
Phone:186 0120 8175


Tongrentang Zhima Health Coffee

A café founded by the centuries-old laozihao (time-honored brand) Tongrentang, a name synonymous with traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), recently garnered online popularity for its coffee offerings. Their brews blend TCM ingredients such as wolfberries, tangerine peel, and motherwort into the mix. Against expectations of a staggering bitter concoction, reviews on Dianping reveal that these TCM elements subtly enhance the coffee’s flavor without overwhelming it, thereby ensuring it doesn’t resemble a medicinal potion. For those who, like me, appreciate the potential health benefits of TCM, this café is a must-visit destination.

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Craving a TCM-inspired brew?

Tongrentang Zhima Health Coffee 同仁堂知嘛健康咖啡&养生BAR
No.2-1, Building 2, No.10 Chaoyang Park South Road, Chaoyang district
朝阳区朝阳公园南路10号院2号楼2-1号
Hours: 8.30am-8.30pm
Phone: 6587 1397


HK+

Have you ever sipped a coffee infused with pepper? At HK+, they’re challenging traditional coffee norms with their signature pepper-seasoned brew, enriched with the nutty undertones of black sesame. Its presentation mimics a fried egg floating in coffee, achieved through skillful latte art using milk and a touch of turmeric. Despite its unconventional key ingredient, it highlights the taste of the coffee. So, if you’re intrigued by the idea of a peppery, salty coffee, HK+ certainly warrants a visit.

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Ever sipped pepper-spiked coffee?

HK+
274 Xiaobaobei Street, Tongzhou district
通州区小堡北街274号
Hours: 10am-8pm
Phone: 134 3664 3842

Today…

Britain Claims To Have Helped With The Ukrainian Invasion Of Russia

Yves Smith is discussing the Washington Post report on Russia-Ukraine negotiation to end the infrastructure attacks:

An Admission of Russian Long-Term Weakness or More Complex Calculation?

I had previously discussed the WaPo piece here.

Yves suggests that the negotiations, if they really have happened as described, were an Ukrainian ruse to distract Russia from the Ukrainian preparation of the Kursk oblast incursion. The talks were useless for Russia, she says. She doubts that Russia would favor to stop the attacks on the Ukrainian electricity generating and network capabilities. She suggests that the Ukrainian attacks on Russia create little damage. It disagree with that view.

The winter will already become very difficult for Ukrainian civilians. There is no need to increase the damage on Ukrainian infrastructure beyond the already achieved level.

The Ukrainian attacks have so far created repairable damage in Russia. But that may not be the case forever. One day one of such attacks could in fact create some real catastrophe. The attacks are also binding lots of Russian resources. One needs a huge number of soldiers and equipment to give at least some protection to the most exposed sites. The Russian economy is currently short on men. Not diverting some 100,000 men for local air defense purposes can make a difference.

I believe that Russia was genuinely interested in making such deal. But the Ukrainian attack on Kursk oblast blew it apart.

There are new suggestion on how the Ukrainian incursion into Russia was prepared for.

The Times in London claims that it largely followed a British plan (archived):

When footage of British Challenger 2 battle tanks being used by the Ukrainian army for its counterinvasion of Russia emerged on Tuesday, Downing Street and the Ministry of Defence were ready.For the previous 48 hours, officials and political aides working for Sir Keir Starmer and John Healey, the defence secretary, had been in talks about how far to go to confirm growing British involvement in the incursion towards Kursk.

The stakes were high. Unseen by the world, British equipment, including drones, have played a central role in Ukraine’s new offensive and British personnel have been closely advising the Ukrainian military for two years, on a scale matched by no other country.

The U.S., in contrast, has claimed not to have known about the Ukrainian plans and there purpose. This leads Kit Klarenberg to develop a theory:

Kit Klarenberg @KitKlarenberg – 15:02 UTC · Aug 18, 2024“🧵: I speculated earlier was probably Britain behind Kursk suicide op. Lo and behold, a Times article confirms this. More broadly, contents amply underline Kursk latest effort by London to keep the US in the proxy war – and it appears Washington has finally had enough of this.

Times reveals up top heavily promoted footage of British Challenger 2 tanks in Kursk was a conscious, deliberate decision made by new PM Keir Starmer and his defence secretary John Healey. British equipment is said to have “played a central role” in the “counterinvasion”.

Starmer and Healey reportedly made the decision to advertise London’s involvement “to be more open about Britain’s role in a bid to persuade key allies to do more to help.” In other words, to encourage/pressure the US et al to double down on this unwinnable, nightmare quagmire.

However, US reportedly unhappy with Kursk incursion, because it scuppered peace talks. Kiev’s purported culpability for Nord Stream bombing is, it seems, being used to justify ending German aid to Ukraine. And the US is blocking Kiev from firing British-made missiles at Russia.

Kit’s theory is that the Washington Post story about the blown negotiations as well as the latest “Nord Stream done by Ukraine” rumor reporting by the WSJ are expressions of U.S. anger over the Ukrainian government and its Kursk invasion.

The Times also reports that Britain is pushing its allies to provide more weapons and to allow their use against targets deep inside of Russia:

In the coming weeks Healey will attend a new meeting of the Ukraine Defence Co-ordination Group, where Britain will press European allies to send more equipment and give Kyiv more leeway to use them in Russia. Healey spoke last week to Lloyd Austin, the US defence secretary, and has been wooing Boris Pistorius, his German opposite number.Germany, whose Taurus missiles have a similar 155-mile range to Storm Shadow but a more powerful warhead, has been the country under the most pressure to move. However, it was revealed yesterday that Germany has actually frozen military aid to Ukraine because of a domestic budgetary crisis. Pistorius had asked for £3.4 billion of additional supplies but that was rejected by the finance ministry.

A previous leak provided that the long range Taurus missiles are complicate and have to be programmed just-in-time by German officers. There is no support in Germany for allowing such a deep involvement in attacks on Russia.

To me it seems that Britain has promised to Ukraine that it would get its allies to agree to the usage of longer range weapons against Russia in exchange for Ukraine to launch the attack on Russia.

Only that can explain this Zelenski complain about Starmer:

The Ukrainian president complained that British aid to Kyiv had begun to wane as his forces continued their unprecedented incursion into Russian territory in the Kursk region.“Unfortunately, the situation has slowed down recently,” Mr Zelensky said, referring to UK military assistance.

Sir Keir has upheld a Conservative ban on using UK-made Storm Shadows to strike targets deep inside Russia, amid concerns it could lead to escalation with nuclear-armed Moscow.

“We will discuss how to fix this because long-range capabilities are vital for us. The whole world sees how effective Ukrainians are – how our entire nation defends its independence,” said Mr Zelensky.

It came as four former Conservative defence secretaries called on No 10 to do more to support Ukraine, with some demanding Kyiv be allowed to use Storm Shadows in the Russian offensive.

But it is not Starmer who is blocking the missiles, it is the U.S. of A. (archived):

Washington is in effect blocking Britain from allowing Kyiv to fire Storm Shadow missiles inside Russia, amid fears in the Biden administration of an escalation in the Ukraine war.

It is understood that although the UK wants to give Ukraine the freedom to do what they want with the long-range weapon, it requires consensus from allies, including the US, France and a third undisclosed Nato country. A government source stressed that the UK was not blaming the US for any delay, adding that such policy changes took time.

Combining all the above one can (re-)construct this story.

Britain, in a bipartisan move, wants to prolong the war in Ukraine. It suggested to and helped Ukraine to invade Russia even as it knew that this would interrupt peace talks in Qatar. It also promised to press its allies  for long range attack permission against Russia. But the U.S. and Germany are still blocking such attacks. Zelensky now complains that Britain failed to deliver on its promise.

The U.S., miffed about the British involvement in a likely useless Ukrainian attack on Russia, is leaking about the Ukrainian/Russian negotiations in Qatar.

The above is largely based on the U.S. claims that it was not really involved in the planing of the Kursk incursion.

There are of course good reason to doubt those claims:

As the Ukraine war enters its most perilous phase, with Kiev’s forces fighting inside Russia, the United States is operating a formal “sensitive activities” detachment that is active in providing direct military support to the beleaguered country. The detachment, never before disclosed, is run by U.S. special operations forces, and with its Ukrainian counterparts, provides on-the-battlefield support, including near-real time targeting intelligence, operators say.

An operator formerly deployed to the Army’s 10th Special Forces Group assigned to a sensitive activities detachment told me their work included the creation of clandestine human networks for intelligence gathering, as well as identifying Russian military weaknesses for targeting.

A second operator also described having been tasked with providing near up-to-the-minute intelligence support to Ukrainian forces.

Those U.S. operators in Ukraine certainly did not miss the preparations the Ukrainians were making for their attack.

P.S. Bonus from The Times piece:

“It’s not just about the military support, but it’s about the industrial, economic, and diplomatic support,” the defence source said. “If Putin succeeds in Ukraine he’s not going to stop there. But also the economic implications of that are massive, because we all saw how heavily Britain got hit when he first invaded.

Yes, the sanctions, intended to hurt Russia, were quite damaging to those who issued them. Nice to see that finally acknowledged.

Posted by b on August 19, 2024 at 15:58 UTC | Permalink

Chemtrails

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CF4 c ZVAAApB u

Duke

“One day, I was lounging in the house when I heard loud gunfire. I ran outside just in time to see my neighbors cart off Duke’s mom on the back of their flatbed truck.

After that, Duke spent almost every hour at our home. Curiosity drove me to ask my neighbor’s what his name was but all they told me was they simply called him Dog. A couple of months after that, they simply stopped feeding Duke. I started to feed him because I wasn’t going to let this baby starve.

When it came time for our neighbors to move, I asked them if I could take Duke off of their hands since it was clear they didn’t want anything to do with him. The son said yes, but the day after I asked, Duke was gone and so were they.

I contacted the son and asked if he had changed his mind and decided to take the dog with him and he grew defensive and put all the blame on me and threatened me. After explaining to him I didn’t have Duke, he hung on me calling me a liar.

In an effort to find this baby, I posted Missing Pet signs all over the local vets office within a 25 mile radius.

5 months passed before I got a phone call from the UPS man that delivered in our neighborhood. He said he saw a dog matching the description of Duke in a nearby field and he looked pretty bad. I thanked the man, hung up and drove straight to where he said he saw the dog. It was Duke. Malnourished and severely afraid of everything. However, one look at me and after hearing my voice he perked up and ran straight into my arms.

Now Duke is healthy and happy and has three other dogs and three cats to play with.Now we are a family.❤️”

Douglas Macgregor Warns: US’s EXTREMELY Dangerous Policys Push The World Is Increasingly CHAOTIC

Brian Bywater

MAJOR TOM

  “Ground Control to Major Tom”

  “If you want to live through this journey Philip you will stop singing that song. You haven’t let up since we blasted off. It may have been funny then and had some sort of relativity, however after five days it does reek of overkill.”

 

  “Oh chill out Major, lighten up. Everyone at Ground Control sees the funny side of a real life Major Tom actually being on a journey through space. You must realise at some stage they will make that call.”

 

  “That song, A Space Odyssey, if you can call it a song, was banned before the first Apollo flight in 1969 and it should have stayed that way. Do you have any understanding of what Bowie was saying?”

 

 “Jesus Tom, it is a song connected to a historical event, the first men on the Moon. It is a classic.”

 

  “You weren’t even born in 1969. You have no concept of how disturbed the song made everyone feel. particularly those  connected with the flight  People watching on TV World-wide also became emotionally invested.”

 

 “That’s ridiculous. Nothing went wrong, what was everyone worried about?”

 

 “Get real Philip. That is easy to say after the event. This was a first. Three men heading for the Moon had metamorphorised from something only considered science fiction into the first true TV reality show. Had something gone wrong there wasn’t a precedent for decisions to overcome any problem they encountered.. The lift off, weightlessness in space, not in a simulated situation in a man-made chamber, meteors damaging the spaceship, the possibility of alien life greeting them, poison gases on the surface, these were only some of the dangers. It really was one giant step for man.”

 

  “OK I get all that. What was Bowie saying that had people getting their knickers in a knot?”

 

  “The interpretation of some of the lyrics. Remember this was 1969, the World was changing rapidly. To put it in perspective it was at the time the Beatles were recording their first album. The Rolling Stones were playing to record crowds. This was the permissive 60’s which is why the ban on the song was lifted. Drug references, loneliness, depression all became accepted lyrics, which did not please everyone. Bowie later admitted he was ‘out of his tree’ when he wrote the song. Look can we get on with what we have to do to keep this spaceship operational and on course?”

 

  “Sure, I have the day five check list in front of me. There is one thing we need to evaluate. Look at the top right hand corner of the screen showing vision of the galaxy ahead. It is showing a new comet has appeared since yesterday.  I am only assuming it is a comet.”

 

  “Never assume. Why did you wait until now to mention it? Why a comet? I think it is moving too slowly for a comet. It is maintaining the distance between us so it must be traveling at the same speed we are. What is the time frame from when it first appeared on the screen to now?”

 

  “That would suggest this object is moving far too slowly to be a comet. You are correct. Based on distance from the Sun it should be moving at around 25,000 miles per hour. This is nowhere near that speed. As you said the distance between it and us is not changing, it is mimicking our speed, 17,000 mph. Calculating its position indicates it must have traveled at over 40000 miles per hour to get to that position on our screen in the elapsed time, yet it has slowed to 17000. That is a controlled act, it must be manned.”

 

  “How far away is it?”

 

  “Using our laser probe indicates 6.7 miles. Jesus, did you see that? When I activated the probe it sent a return probe. Whatever it is, it is definitely manned.”

 

  “Being that close we are obviously on the same orbit. Ground Control must be seeing this, why haven’t they made contact?”

 

  “Whatever it is only looks like a large piece of space junk, certainly nothing like a spaceship. Perhaps Ground Control leave it to us to make contact if we feel it is creating a problem.”

 

  “Jesus wept. An unidentified object is 6 miles away in the same orbit and is mimicking us speed wise and using a return probe to evaluate distance apart and you do not see a problem? Contact Ground Control, do it now Philip.”

 

  “What can they do? They are light years away, we are within 6 miles. I think we should try and make contact with the object, whatever it is.”

 

  “What language would you suggest?”

 

  “Well we know the Chinese and the Russians have launched space probes, some manned.”

 

  “And which of those languages are you proficient in Philip? Just assume they understand English for Christ’s sake and make the call.”

 

  “It has gone, there one minute, disappeared the next, off the screen. It would have accelerated to 50000mph in the blink of a second to do that.”

 

  “There is another possibility. A screen which hides anything behind it has been activated. We have fighter planes that use that tactic. Fire another laser probe.”

 

  “There isn’t anything there to bounce the laser off. Tom, on the screen, it is behind you.”

 

   “This is not the time for Punch and Judy jokes Philip.”

 

   “I am telling you it is right behind us and moving closer. It is increasing in size. Increase our speed, put some distance between us or it will crash into us.”

 

  “The ship is not responding to my commands. Call Ground Control.”

 

  “Houston, we have a problem.”

 

  “Idiot, you can’t even get that right. It’s Houston we’ve had a problem.”

 

  “Look behind us, the thing is about to swallow our spaceship, we are going inside the thing. Saying we have a problem is an appropriate understatement.”

 

  “Ground Control to Major Tom……. Major Tom, ……Major Tom.”

 

  “Wake up Tom. Tom, give me strength, Ground Control to Major Tom, wake up. You are having another nightmare. Who is Philip? I knew this would happen when you played that Bowie song tonight. From now on it is banned in this house. Play it and it will not be Houston who has a problem. Go back to sleep, and take Philip with you.”

Cabbage Rolls with Sour Cream Sauce

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Ingredients

  • 2 cups leftover meat or ground beef (seasoned with salt and pepper)
  • 1/4 cup diced onion
  • 1/2 cup diced celery
  • 1 cup cooked rice
  • 1 teaspoon horseradish
  • 1 tablespoon prepared mustard
  • 1 egg, well beaten
  • 6 large cabbage leaves
  • 1/4 cup tomato puree
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 cup sour cream

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Brown meat and onion in a heavy skillet over low heat. Remove from heat.
  3. Mix in thoroughly celery, rice, horseradish, mustard and egg.
  4. Cook cabbage leaves for 3 minutes in boiling salted water.
  5. Place meat mixture on cabbage leaves. Roll and fasten with toothpicks. Place close together in greased baking dish.
  6. Pour tomato puree and water over cabbage rolls. Cover and bake for 30 minutes.
  7. Remove cabbage rolls.
  8. Pour sour cream into liquid remaining in baking dish. Serve over cabbage rolls.

Russian Marines Captured 15 Polish and French Soldiers In KURSK

Anatomy study

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Parents should have a choice

Recently, after the country announced the list of “Taiwan independence”, the national security department took thunderous action and announced that it had cracked thousands of Taiwan spy cases and successfully eliminated a “Taiwan independence element” intelligence station in the mainland. Among them, it focused on a “Taiwan independence leader” who was arrested, warning “Taiwan independence elements” on the island that this is the end.

arrested
arrested


“Taiwan independence element” Yang Zhiyuan was arrested


Recently, China’s Ministry of State Security announced an exciting news. In order to maintain national security, the Ministry of State Security has carried out special activities to crack down on illegal forces that split the country.

So far, the mainland has cracked thousands of “Taiwan spies stealing state secrets” cases and successfully eliminated a “Taiwan spy intelligence network” lurking in the motherland.

In the article released by the Ministry of State Security, the “Taiwan independence elements” headed by Lai Qingde were severely criticized. The Taiwan authorities insist on “Taiwan independence” rhetoric, and even “use force to seek independence”, collude with foreign forces, and disrupt peace in the Taiwan Strait.

This has not only caused the economic recession on the island and the decline in people’s living standards, but also caused the cross-strait relations to deteriorate and drop to a freezing point.

You should know that less than a week ago, the mainland had just listed the “Taiwan independence list” and encouraged the masses to actively report.

Therefore, the Ministry of State Security’s thundering action and quick action are warning the “Taiwan independence elements” on the island that any forces that attempt to split the country and block the reunification of the motherland will face severe punishment, and the Chinese government is not just talking.

office
office


China’s Ministry of National Security


The Taiwan authorities disagree.

They believe that the article does not explain the time and content of the more than 1,000 Taiwan espionage theft cases that have been cracked, and the authenticity is questionable. The person in charge of Taiwan’s cross-strait affairs said that the mainland is either “bragging” and exaggerating, or “abusing the law” and “arresting at will”.

The Taiwan authorities believe that the mainland has only one purpose for doing this, which is to intimidate Taiwan.

In addition, the Taiwan authorities also blamed the mainland for the “promotion of cross-strait exchanges” while arresting Taiwanese people, and believed that the mainland was the “culprit” of the cross-strait confrontation. In this regard, the mainland has long stated that the mainland has no intention of targeting ordinary Taiwanese people, and the Taiwan authorities themselves know who they are arresting.

It is worth noting that in the article of the Ministry of National Security, a “Taiwan independence leader” who has been arrested, Yang Zhiyuan, was mentioned.

Yang Zhiyuan has been engaged in “Taiwan independence” activities for a long time and attempted to split the country’s sovereignty.

The mainland arrested and prosecuted him for “separatism”. This is also the first “Taiwan independence element” arrested by China for “separatism”.

According to the latest legal documents of mainland China, he can be sentenced to death at worst case.

Lai
Lai


Lai Qingde


For the “Taiwan independence” list that the mainland has listed, many “Taiwan independence elements” clamored that the mainland had no way to implement mainland laws on them, let alone the right to arrest them.

However, Yang Zhiyuan is a good example.

All his “Taiwan independence” activities were carried out in Taiwan, but the mainland was still able to bring him to justice.

In other words, in the future, anyone who expresses “Taiwan independence” in Taiwan may be convicted. Analysts said that the mainland may extradite “Taiwan independence elements” through a third country in the future.

Even if these “Taiwan independence elements” do not come to the mainland, as long as they go to countries that have reached an agreement with China, they will face the possibility of arrest.

List
List


“Taiwan independence list” released by the Taiwan Affairs Office of the State Council


The arrest of Yang Zhiyuan means the beginning of the mainland’s exercise of legal jurisdiction over Taiwan. It is foreseeable that “Yang Zhiyuan’s case is the first case, but it is by no means the last case.” “Taiwan independence elements” should not think that promoting “Taiwan independence” speech is not a big deal. As the laws in this regard in mainland China are gradually improved, “Taiwan independence forces” will eventually face legal sanctions. We also advise “Taiwan independence elements” to be cautious in their words and deeds and return to the right path.


This news is brought to you by tencent 张学坤观世界: 08-17 15:40

Contempt of court

What a monstrous system of criminal justice the US has.

This 47-year-old man, Carey Dale Grayson, will be executed November 21st for killing a woman during a home invasion… in 1994, 30 years ago, when he was 17. He did it with 3 other boys too.

If they were going to execute him they should’ve done it within a year or two of his conviction.

What’s the point of killing him 30 years later? They’re now killing a completely different man from the boy who committed the murder.

After spending such a long time in prison he should honestly just be released.

The US has one of the most draconian criminal justice and prison systems in the world. Every elected judge and district attorney wants recognition for being the one to lock up as many people as possible for the longest time. Extremely long prison sentences are the norm. There are so many ageing prisoners who face either execution or death in prison for something they did as teenagers.

That’s not to mention prison conditions. The Constitution makes prisoners an exception to the ban on human slavery. So there’s mandatory work, but none that pays more than a few pennies an hour.

There’s also no smoking or vaping. There are no conjugal visits. If your wife visits you, you get one hug and brief kiss at the start and end of every visit — apart from that you’re not even allowed to hold hands. And if you’re unlucky enough to go to federal prison, there’s no such thing as parole there. You always serve the entirety of your sentence.

I can’t imagine a crueler system. Anywhere else in the West, there’s no capital punishment, no heavy sentences for minors, prison sentences are much shorter, prison laborers earn minimal wages but not pennies a day, and conjugal visits are permitted. Yet crime and incarceration rates are much lower.

I have no problem with the death penalty as long as it’s applied in a timely manner. I have a problem with taking away someone’s whole life on earth for something they did as a kid or young adult. Either execute them in a timely manner, or give them a reasonable sentence and a road to redemption if you won’t.

The BEST dad ever

Interesting 1950’s themed pictures

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Men Are Turning Their Back On The West As It Collapses

Chili Pasta Casserole

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9c7834b3315d37551334a75ed4907af0

Ingredients

  • 1 pound lean ground beef
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 (15 ounce) can vegetarian chili with beans
  • 1 (14 1/2 ounce) can Italian style stewed tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded sharp Cheddar cheese, divided
  • 1/2 cup reduced fat sour cream
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 8 ounces cooked pasta

Instructions

  1. Cook ground beef and onion in large skillet.
  2. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
  3. Brown beef until no longer pink. Drain fat.
  4. Stir in chili, tomatoes with juice, 1 cup Cheddar cheese, sour cream, chili powder and garlic powder.
  5. Add chili mixture to pasta and stir until pasta is coated.
  6. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup cheese.
  7. Cover and cook for 30 minutes until hot and bubbly.

Contact

Submitted into Contest #247 in response to: Set your story on a spaceship exploring the far reaches of space when something goes wrong. view prompt

Martin Hull

The spaceship came screaming down with the thunderclap roar of displaced atmosphere yet landed whisper soft on the grass at the end of town.The craft glittered sleekly in the mid-morning sunlight as it lay on it’s side – a broad shaft topped by a bulbous nose from which a door opened.The blond haired man that stepped out was tall, bronzed and athletic. He wore the shining, golden uniform of Earth’s Bureau of Exploration, his proudly displayed badges of rank declared him to be a Senior Contact Manager (ConMan) Alien Division.He flicked aside the long ponytail that was a fashion among his colleagues and walked down the ramp that had silently extended itself from his scout craft breathing the fresh, untainted (thoroughly examined and tested) air.There was a short, thickset native strolling towards the spaceman, looking mildly curious. Switching on his Universal Translator the ConMan greeted the native.“Greetings from Earth”. The time delay between speaking and computerized translation was almost unnoticeable.“Hello”, replied the native. “I’m from Lower Great Wopping. Did you know that you aren’t allowed to park there?”“Eh? What?” said the Earthman. “Sorry, no I didn’t.”“Oh, that’s alright,” relied the native cheerfully. “Just remember next time otherwise the grass tends to get worn out. Okay?”“Sure, I … Wait a minute,”the Conman interrupted himself. “I’m from another planet.”“Oh goodness,” exclaimed the native. “No wonder I didn’t recognise you. That also explains why you parked on the grass. Well, enjoy your stay here,” and he turned to leave.“Hold on. Wait,” called out the man from Earth. “I am from another planet and I want to see your leader.”“Well …” the other man thought for a moment then puffed his chest out a bit. “I suppose that’s me. I am the Mayor of Lower Great Wopping.”“No,” said the ConMan with a cendeceding smile. “I meant your overall leader. National Government.”

“Nashnul Guvmint?” said the mayor quizzically. “Is that anything like a public convenience?”

“No it isn’t,” snapped the Earthman. “Do you have a king then? Or a dictator?”

“I’m sorry, no I haven’t,” apologised the Mayor. “Perhaps we can get one at the general store?”

“No, no, no,” raged the thoroughly confused ConMan. “Please let us start again. Do you have a ruler of any kind?”

“Yes, of course,” the Mayor’s face brightened rapidly. “I’ve only got a six inch one with me but I can get a longer one from home.”

“What? No, not that sort of ruler!” The ConMan tried very hard and managed to bring himself under control. Barely.

“A slide rule,” suggested the Mayor diffidently.

“No dammit!” screamed the man from Earth.

For several minutes he simply stared at the Mayor, apparently trying to wish him out of existence. When the native failed to disappear in a puff of smoke the ConMan decided to try another route.

“Who makes your laws?” he asked with reasonable calm.

“Laws?” the Mayor laughed. “We tried making some laws a few years back but nobody liked ‘em much so we junked ‘em.”

“Junked ‘em?” the man from BuEx was shocked into spluttering for a few moments. “You can’t simply junk all laws just because nobody liked them.”

“Why not?”

“Well … er …” The ConMan was unsure but pressed on. “Well … er … who made them?”

“Let’s see now,” the Mayor counted names off on his fingers. “There me and Jane, Fred and Mary, the two Jones girls – very good at it they were – and just about anyone who was interested chipped in some ideas.” The Mayor looked sheepish, “I suppose you think we were stupid, making up laws. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean I don’t know.” The ConMan was floundering and took a few moments to collect his thoughts. There seemed to be some missing.

“Let’s start again. Again.” He said eventually. “Who makes the rul … er regulations for this country?”

“What’s Country?” asked the Mayor warily.

The ConMan’s reply started off reasonably, if somewhat incoherent but quickly became an ear shattering screem.

“Well it’s … I mean it’s got … that is … Goddamit you stupid sonofabitch you must know what a country is!”

“Nope,” said the Mayor lightly.

“Oh dear God,” said the exasperated Earthman. “Look, you are a Mayor, right?”

The Mayor nodded.

“So you have a council?”

Again a nod.

“What does the council govern?” asked the ConMan in a whisper, as if he were afraid of the answer.

“The borough,” came the simple answer.

“And what,” the ConMan was becoming exited again, “Do you call a collection of boroughs.”

“A collection of boroughs,” replied the Mayor without even blinking but he did take a step backwards. Just in case.

“I … you …but … aarrgghh” screamed the Earthman who seemed to have developed a twitch just under his left eye and stuttered slightly as he spat out his next question.

“What do you get if you put all the boroughs together?”

“The World,” replied the Mayor, stepping back another pace as the ConMan seemed about to throw a fit.

He was silent for several minutes, breathing deeply as his face went through several colour changes while blood vessels at his neck and temples began throbbing visibly.

“Let’s go back to the beginning,” the ConMan almost pleaded. “How many councils are there?”

“Nobody knows for sure,” the Mayor thought for a while, “But I think it’s around two hundred and fifty thousand now.”

The Contact Manager was obviously shaken by the answer but ploughed grimly on.

“And who,” he asked, “Is above them?”

The Mayor thought long and hard, brows furrowed, face towards the sky. Eventually he said – “All right, I give up. Who is above them?”

The Universal Translator was unable to translate the reply other than to give out an ear splitting shriek.

When the ConMan was able to speak intelligibly again there was a glint of madness shining in his eyes.

“Listen you fool,” he started ranting at the native. “I am a Senior ConMan, an expert at understanding and communicating with aliens …”

“I’m no alien,” the Mayor interrupted indignantly. “I was born and raised right here.”

“No, I’m the alien,” said the Earthman. “I mean … that’s not what I mean … no it’s …”

Suddenly he turned and marched quickly back to his ship, muttering to himself.

“I’ll quit, that’s it, I’ll resign. It was a stupid job anyway. Maybe I never even found the bloody planet, they’ll never know.”

As the spaceship took off, disappearing rapidly into the clear blue sky another native, this one riding a bike, drew alongside the Mayor and stopped.

“Hello Fred,” the Mayor greeted the newcomer.

“Hello Mayor,” replied Fred. “Who was that?”

“A bloke from Earth.”

“What did he want?”

“Buggered if I know,” said the Mayor.

America Compared: Why Other Countries Treat Their People So Much Better | Reaction

Not likely.

There aren’t many manufacturers that can produce to scale and quality of Foxconn.

Electronics industry uses contract manufacturers. There are only two that have scale. The first one is FLEX (formerly Flextronics) who invented the idea of contract manufacturing as we know it. Foxconn was originally an electronic parts manufacturer and saw how Flex did things and used a similar model. Because they also manufactured the parts they could earn more profit.

Both companies monopolize the assembly business. Both operate at scale.

Apple chose Foxconn and stayed with Foxconn. Their relationship is very close. When Apple needed AMOLED screens for a new phone model, Foxconn built a new factory for them. Apple did not have to invest a penny.

If you wanted to move production back to the US you would still have to import the parts from China. Electronic parts are not produced at scale in the US. You would also have a hard time finding people who want a job on the production line.

Moving a factory is not like moving house. There are many more moving parts.

They can survive

They just cannot grow at a fifth of the pace at which they grew in China

India is not a good place to manufacture things

The effortless ease of China is entirely missing in India and Vietnam both.

Vietnam is too cramped even if the workforce is productive

India is too lazy and productivity is abysmal

Plus both Nations simply do not have a Skilled Workforce needed for expansion even moderately


It was stupid of Foxconn to threaten to relocate to India and Vietnam

Far easier to have a Chinese OEM subcontracting with them, go to India and do their work for a lower commission

Now they are unlikely to gain shares in OEM in the Chinese Market ever again.

India needs many structural changes to be able to offer Foxconn a fiftieth of what China can offer

The Economic advantages are non existent

And like I always say when any decision-making is made for POLITICAL REASONS – they simply don’t work like you expect them t


Foxconn can thus survive in India

Barely survive

Until one day they just pack up saying THEY CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE

Caitlin Johnstone: Biden Ramps Up Nuclear Brinkmanship On His Way Out The Door

18 November 2024, by Eric Zuesse. (All of my recent articles can be seen here.)

(NOTE: I was going to do an article on this today, especially because this article follows up — though without mentioning — my October 10th “Biden’s plan calls for WW3 to start after Election Day.”, which opened “U.S. President Joe Biden refuses to answer until after November 5th the question of whether the U.S. will officially be at war against Russia,” which was a follow-on to my September 13th “Biden might decide today whether to initiate WW3 against Russia.” 

So, Caitlin’s fine article today is a follow-on to those events. 

She points out that the missiles which Biden is now allowing Ukraine to use to bomb Russia don’t range as far as the 300 miles range that would be able to bomb The Kremlin and endanger Russia’s central command. 

Therefore, Biden isn’t necessaily sparking WW3 by this policy-change. But what he now is allowing would endanger Russia’s giant nuclear power plant in Kursk, and so it could end up causing Russia to unleash nuclear war against the United States and Ukraine.)

https://www.caitlinjohnst.one/p/biden-ramps-up-nuclear-brinkmanship

18 November 2024, by Caitlin Johnstone

The New York Times reports that the Biden administration has authorized Ukraine to use US-supplied long-range missiles to strike Russian and North Korean military targets inside Russia — yet another dangerous escalation of nuclear brinkmanship in this horrific proxy war.

The Times correctly notes that authorizing Ukraine to use ATACMS, which have a range of about 190 miles, has long been a contentious issue in the Biden administration for fear of provoking military retaliations against the US from Russia. This reckless escalation has been authorized despite an acknowledgement from the anonymous US officials who spoke to The New York Times that they “do not expect the shift to fundamentally alter the course of the war.”

As Antiwar’s Dave DeCamp notes, Vladimir Putin said back in September that if NATO allows Ukraine to use western-supplied weapons for long-range strikes inside Russian territory, it would mean NATO countries “are at war with Russia.” This is about as unambiguous a threat as you’ll ever see.

https://twitter.com/Antiwarcom/status/1858254030361022826

NYT reports that Biden’s policy shift “comes two months before President-elect Donald J. Trump takes office, having vowed to limit further support for Ukraine.” And it is here worth noting that last week it was reported by The Telegraph that British PM Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron had been scheming to thwart any attempt by Trump to scale back US support for Ukraine by pushing Biden to authorize long-range missile strikes in Russian territory.

But it is also true that the day before the US election Mike Waltz, Trump’s next national security advisor, had himself endorsed the idea of authorizing long-range missile strikes into Russia with the goal of pressuring Moscow to end the war. His plan for disentangling the US from the conflict entails ramping up sanctions on Russia and “taking the handcuffs off the long-range weapons we provide Ukraine” in order to pressure Putin into eagerly accepting a peace deal.

So while this is being framed as an administration that’s more hawkish on Russia executing a maneuver that’s designed to hamstring the peacemongering of an incoming administration that’s less favorable to assisting Ukraine, in reality it may just be goal-assisting the next administration in a policy change it had planned on implementing anyway.

https://twitter.com/mtracey/status/1856129126492430685

Either way, it’s insane. Putin ordered changes to Russia’s nuclear doctrine in September in order to ward off these sorts of escalations by lowering the threshold at which nuclear weapons could be used to defend the Russian Federation, and they’re just barreling right past that bright red line like they barreled over the red lines which led to the invasion of Ukraine. And the fact that they’re adding yet another nuclear-armed state into the mix with North Korea is just more gravy for the nuclear brinkmanship pot roast.

At one point in 2022, US intelligence agencies reportedly assessed that the odds of Russia using a nuclear weapon in Ukraine was as high as fifty percent, but the Biden administration kept pushing forward with this proxy war anyway. These freaks are taking insane risks to advance agendas that stand to yield the slimmest of benefits even by their own assessments.

We are living in dark and dangerous times.

PS: If you like this article, please email it to all your friends or otherwise let others know about it. None of the U.S.-and-allied ‘news’-media will likely publish it (nor link to it, since doing that might also hurt them with Google or etc.). I am not asking for money, but I am asking my readers to spread my articles far and wide, because I specialize in documenting what the Deep State is constantly hiding. This is, in fact, today’s samizdat.

GHOST DESCRIBES THE AFTERLIFE, What He Says Will Shock You…

Remember, you are not what you do, and if you are in trouble… reach out for help.

Not needed

The Kursk offensive was elegant but ultimately a disaster as everything else

Imagine India invading and taking over large tracts of Pakistan and in exchange Pakistan captures 42 Rajasthani Villages across 5 Districts – 14 of which have already been liberated inside Five days with a minimum of 2500 Dead Enemy Soldiers and 150 pieces of equipment

The Ukraine supply line is cut off at SUMY where Russia is bombing FAB after FAB

This extends the Supply line from 7 Miles to 55 Miles

That alone means Ukraine cannot keep equipping their Soldiers who are in Kursk

This means Ukraine will send more troops across the Borders into Belgorod but again without supplies they will end up becoming TERRORISTS and holding hostages

Meanwhile Ukraine will leave their own territories where Russia will advance with impunity and capture more settlements and destroy more Ukrainian equipment and people

The Gamble was that Russia would be so worried about the loss of Civilian Lives in Kursk that they would immediately sue for peace

Unfortunately Russia is angrier now and regard Kursk as Terrorism against Civilians and will be even less determined for any peace

Yesterday 71% Russians voted on Telegram Groups to Kill Ukrainian women and Children against 8% on 30.06.2023 and 11% on 31.12.2023


It was a bungled offensive

You just don’t have the supply line to feed soldiers into Russia because Russians have Airpower and Artillery Power and Tank Strength

Plus they have the numbers

They can mobilize 200,000 Soldiers from their Reserves within a week

Ukraine is utterly exhausted and these are it’s BEST RESERVE TROOPS who are getting sliced into salami in Kursk


Why use Nukes?

Bronco Billy | 1980 | Clint Eastwood | movie review

Is Joe Biden Trying To Start World War 3 Before He Leaves Office? The Decision To Use Long-Range Missiles To Strike Targets Deep Inside Russia Is Insane

November 17, 2024 by Michael 

As if everything that Joe Biden has done so far was not enough, now he has decided to push us to the brink of nuclear war. On Sunday, Joe Biden decided to allow Ukraine to use long-range missiles provided by the United States to hit targets deep inside of Russia. This is a bombshell. I don’t know how else to put it. The Russians have already warned us how they will respond if long-range missiles provided by the United States and other NATO countries start raining down on their cities. Sadly, most Americans have no idea what a direct conflict with Russia would mean.

When I first heard what Joe Biden had done, I reacted very emotionally.

I am still feeling very emotional at this moment.

Everyone needs to clearly understand what just happened, because this is a major turning point…

President Biden has given the OK to lift restrictions that will allow Ukraine to use U.S.-provided long-range weapons to strike deep into Russian territory, a U.S. official confirmed to CBS News on Sunday. The move is a significant change to U.S. policy in the ongoing Ukraine-Russia conflict.

The easing of restrictions would allow Kyiv to use the Army Tactical Missile System, or ATACMS, to hit targets inside Russia. The move also comes as some 10,000 North Korean troops were sent to Kursk near Ukraine’s northern border to help Russian forces retake territory.

One of the reasons why I am so upset is because this wasn’t his decision to make.

We just had an election and his side lost.

The American people elected a leader that wants to bring the war in Ukraine to an end, but now Joe Biden is trying to make sure that nobody is going to be able to end this war.

According to CBS News, one of the reasons why this decision was made was to “put Kyiv in a better negotiating position when and if peace talks happen”…

The U.S. decision could help Ukraine at a moment when Russian forces appear to be making gains and could put Kyiv in a better negotiating position when and if peace talks happen.

It also comes as Mr. Biden is about to leave office and President-elect Trump has pledged to limit American support for Ukraine and ending the war as soon as possible.

Are you kidding me?

That is nonsense.

Donald Trump needs to come forward immediately and denounce this move, because we could be facing a scenario where events spiral out of control before he even has the opportunity to take office.

When Vladimir Putin was asked about the possibility that long-range missiles provided by the U.S. could soon be used to hit targets deep inside Russia, he responded by warning that such a move would mean that “U.S. and European countries are at war with Russia”…

“We are not talking about allowing or not allowing the Ukrainian regime to strike Russia with these weapons,” Putin said Thursday in comments to propagandist Pavel Zarubin. “We are talking about deciding whether NATO countries are directly involved in the military conflict or not.”

“This will mean that NATO countries, the U.S. and European countries are at war with Russia,” Putin said. “And if this is so, then, bearing in mind the change in the very essence of this conflict, we will make appropriate decisions based on the threats that will be created for us.”

Joe Biden just called Putin’s bluff.

We just crossed that red line, and there is no going back.

Now we will see if Putin was bluffing or not.

Later in September, Vladimir Putin explained that a “joint attack on the Russian Federation” could trigger the use of nuclear weapons…

A new nuclear doctrine would “clearly set the conditions for Russia to transition to using nuclear weapons,” he warned – and said such scenarios included conventional missile strikes against Moscow.

He said that Russia would consider such a “possibility” of using nuclear weapons if it detected the start of a massive launch of missiles, aircraft and drones into its territory, which presented a “critical threat” to the country’s sovereignty.

He added: “It is proposed that aggression against Russia by any non-nuclear state, but with the participation or support of a nuclear state, be considered as their joint attack on the Russian Federation.”

The Russians have told us that allowing Ukraine to fire long-range missiles deep into their territory could cause a nuclear war.

But Joe Biden did it anyway.

Just imagine how we would feel if some foreign power was firing long-range missiles into Washington D.C. and New York City.

If someone did that to us, we would nuke them.

I want everyone out there to understand the gravity of the scenario that we are facing.

Of course the Russians have been escalating matters as well.

In fact, they just hit targets all over Ukraine using “120 missiles and almost 100 drones”…

Ukraine said it would introduce nationwide emergency power restrictions Monday after a “massive” Russian attack further damaged its already fragile energy grid ahead of a much-feared winter, with nine civilians also killed across the country on Sunday.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky said Moscow launched 120 missiles and almost 100 drones, targeting Kyiv as well as southern, central and far-western corners of the country.

Civilians were killed in the Mykolaiv, Lviv, Kherson, Dnipropetrovsk and Odesa regions in what officials in the capital called one of the biggest barrages in the almost three-year Russian invasion.

Meanwhile, the war in the Middle East threatens to spiral completely out of control.

On Sunday, Zero Hedge was reporting that Israeli troops were seen fighting at a location that is 3 miles north of the Lebanese border…

The Israeli military has reached the deepest point in Lebanon since the ground offensive began about six weeks ago. This has been reported by both Lebanese and Israeli media, amid raging battles with Hezbollah on Saturday.

“The state-run National News Agency reported that Israeli troops temporarily captured a strategic hill in the southern Lebanese village of Shamaa, about five kilometers (3 miles) from the border early Saturday, before later being pushed back,” Israeli media reports. “The outlet claimed soldiers detonated several buildings including a shrine before they withdrew.”

The IDF has also been bombing Syria on an almost daily basis, and we are waiting for the next Iranian attack on Israel which could literally occur at any moment.

Even though we could see these wars coming way in advance, nobody has been able to stop them.

Now Joe Biden has brought us to the brink of nuclear war with Russia even though he has very little time remaining in the White House.

It was not his decision to make, but he made it anyway, and it could end up having very serious implications for every man, woman and child on the entire planet.

Some AI lessons on MM image generation

It took me a while to figure out, but these images of people with this thing out of their mouths is what the AI interprets as “drinking”.

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(7)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(7)

It also has a problem with size relevance.

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(10)
@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(10)

Changing the AI model can result in dramatic changes in the resulting picture… Some are good, and some aren’t.

Here’s one AI model …

##Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(13)
##Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(13)

And here is a different AI model…

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(18)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(18)

If you are not careful, all the individuals will look like clones…

ORB Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(15)
ORB Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(15)

I really like how it creates backgrounds, but you MUST be specific for a background to be generated… some fantastical backgrounds come with undesirable subject matter.

BG Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(19)
BG Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(19)

It does seem to have a problem with sheer and wet clothing. Only generating edges, and ignoring the rest. Which is interesting, but not what I am looking for.

Sheer Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(20)
Sheer Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(20)

Sometimes, it looks fine. But the AI really has a problem with hands; number of fingers, and left vrs right…

Imperfect Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(9)
Imperfect Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(9)

The fellow on the left is using a right hand on his left arm. Though the girl seems to be just ok.

Nothing worse than an extra arm to throw off the art…

#Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(11)
#Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(11)

Here is the story of a democracy.

The Prime Minister of this country refused to allow a British oil company to control this nation’s oil reserves. He wanted the oil to benefit his people, he was an elected representative after all.

In response, the British boycotted this nation and asked the Americans for help.

The determination was to over throw this nation’s government. The CIA helped design a coup to overthrow this democratic government  [1].

And the CIA succeeded and installed a dictator who was beholden to the United States to stay in power.

Now obviously this nation wasn’t thrilled about this and 26 years later the people of this nation protested and ended up successfully overthrowing this dictator to form a theocratic republic.

Since then, the US has flirted with the idea of going to war with this nation.

This nation: Iran

Yes, the US created the Iran we know today because the US installed a dictator.

The US does this stuff all the time, the US overthrew a government over the price of bananas [2].

The US supports 73% of the world’s dictators [3] .

The US does not spread democracy, the US supports people who support the agenda of American imperialism even if that is a dictator.

Also the US created the issues we have with Iran, so it is hilarious when Presidents complain about their ‘behavior’ because it was the United States that created the problem to begin it with interventionism… yet chuckleheads in the White House seem to think further interventionism is the answer.

Footnotes

Once, I bought a multi-roll package of toilet paper. I had it on the bottom of my shopping cart, on the little shelf. I told the cashier it was down there. She rang up my purchases, I left the store and went home. Later I was looking over my receipt, and noticed that the toilet paper wasn’t on there. She hadn’t scanned it.

That little devil sitting on my shoulder said, “Well, consider it your lucky day”. But the little angel on the other shoulder said, “You know you have to do the right thing”. So the next day I trooped down to the store with the toilet paper and my receipt and stood in line at the customer service desk. When it was my turn, I told the cashier what had happened, and she said that she wasn’t going to charge me for the toilet paper. She said that by then, the cashier’s drawer (the one who checked me out) had been counted and put in the days receipts.

So I took my toilet paper home and lived happily ever after.

Another time, I bought a weedeater for my husband. He told me exactly which one to buy, and it was on sale. So I go and find the weedeater and buy it, and take it home. When I got home, and looked it over, I realized that it was a much, much nicer weedeater than the one on sale had been. I realized I had been pretty drastically undercharged. So, I called the store and told them what had happened and that I would take it back and get the one on sale.

So that’s what I did. It was a small Mom and Pop business, and they were decent people. I couldn’t take them like that. They were appreciative, and gave me a little gift certificate.

Husband comes home from work, we’re talking about the weedeater, and I tell him what had occurred. He was furious with me. He said I was stupid to take the expensive weedeater back, when I could have just played dumb. And then he would have a better heavy duty weedeater. It caused a big argument between us. I tried not to, but I lost a little bit of respect for my husband over his attitude regarding that weedeater.

I was raised to do the right thing. To do my best to be an honorable person. I have failed miserably many times, I know. But I like to sleep at night, and I like to have a clear conscience as much as possible. So I try to do the right thing. Simple as that.

Can they? Yes, there are lottery winners every week.

But will they? Unlikely, and even if they do, it’s a long slog ahead.

Boeing can’t catch a break, not since the first 737 max crash.

A string of troubles later, Boeing has bled immense quantities of cash, but finds itself in a QC mess, road map delays, a stuck starliner in space, union troubles, legal and fed oversight issues and one 737 Max crash from the mother of all PR storms.

Evidently, boeing has big problems executing as an engineering and manufacturing firm.

Unfortunately, Boeing is a no-option too big to fail node. The American government will step in to save it. And molly coddling will help Boeing stay up but hardly improve its competitiveness.

The culture needs to change. Unfortunately, financialization and cheap credit has played havoc with American competitiveness in the 21st century. Hard engineering is too slow for quick money’s taste.

Twenty years ago, pilots preferred Boeing’s yoke for its sense of familiarity. Today, airbus’s sidestick has revolutionized the cockpit’s ergonomics and workflow, introducing class-leading safety while reducing pilot workload.

Boeing has its work cut out, especially with the emergence of comac.

I am of the opinion Boeing’s economic model is too extravagant and there is too much fat in the supply chain. But it will require the competition to lay bare the fact customers are paying too much for what they are getting.

But that’s 20 years down the road, due to the product life cycles of airliners.

I wish Boeing luck. It is unlikely to disappear, but I won’t be surprised if it weakens further.

Let me tell you the truth, all Chinese people believe that if Russia fails, China will also fail, because the US will use Russia as a springboard to invade China. We won’t let that happen.

Don’t think the defeat of both Russia and China is a good thing. You in front of the screen are actually standing in the same position as us.

Here’s the history about your economy.

On August 15, 1945, when Japan unconditionally accepted the Potsdam Declaration and surrendered, and the world finally moved towards peace.

That was also the beginning of the golden age that MAGAs believe in.

Five years later in 1950, Washington DC announced the completion of its industrialization goals. In order to address the vested interests of the military class and become a world hegemon, the Washington DC launched the Cold War against the USSR. In order to ensure that Europe and East Asia were on the same front as itself, the government launched the Marshall Plan in 1947, transferring industry to allied European countries around the USSR, plus Japan, South Korea, and so on.

Washington asked, and Moscow answered.

The USSR provided comprehensive social security from cradle to grave, including free healthcare, education, housing, and employment security. As a result, Washington expanded its Social Security Act, Americans had Medicare and Medicaid at the first time. Assistance for low-income groups, housing plans, and strengthening public education, all of them was made during the cold war. The last time oligarchs gave such preferential treatment to workers was at Ford Motor Company in 1914, half a year before WWI.

The policy of the Washington DC towards the Moscow benefited the American workers, however there’s a flaw of the US itself: the social welfare system pushed the pressure to capitalists, and American domestic capital flee and become international capital. Industrial hollowing began from then on. Japan, Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea rose later, at the cost of the Rust Belt in the Great Lakes region. The 1960s. The end of the golden age.

Rust Belt
Rust Belt

But that was far from over.

If the existence of the USSR cannot make you realize what you have gained because of it, at least the departure of the USSR may make you realize what you have lost. With the collapse of the USSR, American capital was no longer under pressure, and labor welfare plummeted.

Companies led by Wal Mart began to actively reduce workers’ wages and welfare benefits. Despite ongoing inflation in the US, its minimum wage for labor remained at $5.15 per hour from 1997 to 2007. Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act in 1996 forced low-income workers to choose unstable jobs, people no longer have sufficient welfare. Right to Work Laws drived workers away from the union, making the union no longer represent the interests of workers, but gradually become a dual rival between companies and workers. The limit of industrial hollowing out is marked by NAFTA and China joining WTO.

The rich took too much, and the poor had no ability to buy. enterprises went bankrupt. Financial crisis, again and again.

The USSR brought American workers the golden age. The USSR also protected them staying in the golden age. When the USSR left, American workers became orphans abandoned by the government. The irony is that few American workers appreciate the USSR. They would rather believe that it is the kindness and conscience of the wealthy who have brought them a superior life, than believe in the common beliefs and struggles of millions of people.

Now take a look at China. We have achieved a living standard similar to or even higher than yours with resources far below the world average and per capita GDP on the world average – as you can see from the expected life expectancy.

Look at history and ask yourself. If no country in the world can resist the capitalist oligarchy of the US, after the popularization of AI and industrial robots, as manual laborers, what bargaining chips do you have to negotiate with them?

Or, let me ask in a different way, how much longer do you have to wait before you will fight for your own life rather than relying on others’ efforts? The clock of average people is ticktocking, since the popularization of industrial robots will be realized in your lifetime.

Yes, Donald Trump is a great leader. I don’t like America but I like Donald Trump. He has charisma. He has a story. He’s honest, and it’s clear that many Americans adore him.

Xi is different. While Trump has an American and capitalist story, Xi’s story is different. He has an Asian story. He went through the most important and tumultuous period of modern China. While Trump’s story is about making profits, Xi’s story is about China’s struggle.

Mao Zedong taught the Chinese people to be unite. Deng Xiaoping taught the Chinese people to prosper. Xi, on his part, taught the Chinese people to be proud of China.

Unlike American presidents who rarely interact with their own but poor citizens, Xi visits every corner of China. He communicates with the villagers of China, sits with them, and participates in the activities of a Chinese person’s daily life. He makes the Chinese people feel like the government cares for them. He empathizes with them. He champions the spirit of ordinary men. In contrast, Trump champions the spirit of capitalism and profit.

Xi visited the Tibetan Autonomous Region and many Tibetans gathered to welcome him. He even said “Tashi Delek” at the end, which has won him countless Tibetan fans.

Also, the US is helping him. To make a complete story, there must be a villain whom the hero must fight. The US is the villain, who the world knows is corrupted beyond redemption. Xi himself never chose to fight. He is forced to fight, so that has won him support from around the world.

So. In conclusion, Xi is not the leader China needs but the leader the world needs. After a thousand years, people will talk about our time. They will refer to our period as “China’s revival”. The man they will talk most about is not Trump but Xi.

The saddest? A two way tie.

A kid in his early 20’s gains access to a trust fund his grandparents set up for him. Six hours into my shift his mother is behind him begging him to come home before he wastes everything at the table, tears and all. He calls security over to remove her from the area for harassing him. Sadly, he is technically correct, and security escorts the mother from the area. Congrats kid, you lost your future and your parent in one night at the tables.

Second was a 30 something female playing way above her head. No strategy, no quit. Wouldn’t take advice from me because “you work for the house”. She loses about 2-3,000, and goes straight to the ATM. Foxwoods ATMs charge $4 for every transaction, up to $400 per. She has $2,000. Ten minutes later, she’s in tears telling everyone she just gambled away the mortgage, and her husband is going to leave her. She leaves less than an hour before my shift ends. On my way home traffic is unusually heavy (5am mind you) and I see why. Distraught, she was walking along route 2 and decided to step in front of a bus. I found out it was her the next day.

For a poor city, it has the world’s largest metro system. 20 lines and counting. Completely safe. No drunks, homeless or druggies in sight.

Shanghai has the only commercial maglev train, allowing you to travel from the airport to the city center in 8 minutes. It travels at speeds over 400 km an hour.

You never need to look over your shoulder for your own safety. Even at 3:00 am you can walk the streets without fear.

You can eat anything your heart desires. From inexpensive street food all the way to Michelin Starred restaurants.

You never see traffic congestion because the city uses advanced smartcity technology so traffic moves very smoothly.

Your question should be why would New York, a poor and unsafe city, compare itself to Shanghai?

I’ve been to both cities. Have you ever visited Shanghai?

Not me. But someone hired in my office.

Years ago I worked at a management consulting firm in Austin. It was an awful place to work. Ridiculous hours, bad management, and nepotism lead to an extremely high stress environment. Most of the employees had advanced degrees, but because of the horrible work environment, no one stuck around for more than a few months.

One morning, several of us got on the elevator with a new person, who pressed the button for the our floor. Someone asked if she was going to work for “XYZ.” “Yes,” she happily chirped. Everyone groaned. “You really don’t want to do that,” said one of the analysts. Everyone else nodded agreement.

We reach our floor. Everyone except her gets off. She stands in the doorway for a second. “Nope,” she says, and presses the button for the lobby.

A few hours later, the boss comes into a room where several of us are working. “Where’s the new girl? She was supposed to start today.”

“She quit.”

“What! When?”

“In the elevator.”

The boss looks at us and growls, “Shit! What did you say to her?!!!”

Bronco Billy – Final Scene

During the 100 Years War, the French countryside was devastated, lawless and full of unburied corpses. It was a paradise for wolves.

“In all the lowlands of the Loire, the sheep were gone — devoured, destroyed. The cattle that were left were herded by peasants and defended with such weapons as were at hand. By night, they were safe corralled in barns or high stockades.”

People did not dare to venture outdoors at night, when the wolves would prowl village streets, killing any man or animal they found. Outside of Paris was a piece of rugged ground that had been cleared of trees. The wolves made it their home.

“Here it was known that many wolves had their dens, and each year new litters of cubs were born, to be a terror on the roads that led to the great city. It was many generations before the place was cleaned up; and the only memory of its savage denizens left today is the name, the same but shortened, that attaches to the place – the Louvre.”

The wolf king, leader of the pack, was a huge wolf called Courtaud (“Bobtail”) who led a small army of wolves in raids on herds of sheep and cattle. When the herdsmen tried to defend their animals, they were killed too, and soon Courthaud developed a taste for human flesh.

The Dubois family, bringing their sheep to market, took the precaution of putting them in a horse-drawn cart decked out with bells, tin pans and other noisemakers, but it didn’t help. They were overwhelmed by wolves. All three were killed and eaten. After that, the wolves would only eat people, leaving behind the sheep and cattle.

For a time, English longbowmen kept the road to Paris open, but then they were withdrawn, and the city was effectively besieged by wolves. In the hard winter of 1439, there was so much snow that neither wolves nor men could find food. Parisians retreated behind their walls and listened to hungry wolves howling outside.

But the walls were not secure. There was a gap between the iron grate at the river and the frozen river itself. The wolves came through and ran through the streets, killing 14 people before retreating.

The captain of the city guard, Boisselier, was fed up. He ordered cattle to be slaughtered in the town square and left there. The smell of blood attracted the wolves who again rushed into the city, but this time, they were cornered and killed with arrows and stones. That was the end of Courtaud, but wolves remained a terror to the countryside for many years.

Classic joke:

What would happen if Russia invaded China?

On the first day: One million Chinese surrendered to Russia

The next day: Two million Chinese surrendered to Russia

The next day: Three million Chinese surrendered to Russia

The next day: Four million Chinese surrendered to Russia

……

Russia ultimately achieved victory,and Russia changed its name to China and announced that Russians are the 57th ethnic minority in China

Imagine you are a war lord riding a warhorse, wielding a sword, and possessing a thousand cows

You suddenly became the emperor of a place called China

You became the emperor because the original emperor here was too foolish.

You have recruited your loyal Prime Minister, and you have decided to establish your own dynasty and civilization.

You: I want the people here to use new language!

Prime Minister: Sorry, the people here use language that is longer than the history of your tribe. If you replace their language, the entire country’s system will collapse,Great emperor, you don’t want your tax order to be passed on to people thousands of kilometers away, but theybelieve it’s just a piece of paper filled with mysterious symbols

You: I want them to wear my clothes!

Prime Minister: Your clothes are only suitable for the environment on the grasslands… Look, here are deserts, grasslands, snow capped mountains, plains, oceans

You: I want them to eat my food.

Prime Minister: Sir, even you are unwilling to eat your food. Their food is much more delicious. I guess you, who live on the grassland, haven’t studied the methods of shark fin and sea cucumber

You: I want them to accept our culture.

Prime Minister: Really? Do you want your people to learn from your culture of conquest and war, rather than their traditional conservative and submissive culture? The previous emperor here finally taught his people to obey the emperor’s orders. Do you really want to teach them how to conquer and overthrow the emperor like you do?

You: I want them to read our book!

Prime Minister: Hmm… You’ve been busy fighting and don’t seem to have many books. Even if they do, they can’t understand them, and they have tens of millions of books

You: I want them to live in my house!

Prime Minister: Are you serious… Do you want to move out of this magnificent palace and live in your tent full of horse manure?

You: Damn it, why do they have such a long history!

Prime Minister: My Emperor, you see, the region where these people live is bordered by deserts and plateau snow capped mountains to the west, mountains and seas to the south, and only the ocean to the east. In this natural fortress, in ancient times, we on the grasslands were the only threat to this civilization, unless a group of people can invent airplanes and warships in the future to destroy this fortress.

But before that, this civilization could exist freely in this fortress for thousands of years… Of course, this also limited their desire to explore the sky and sea too much, so in the future your dynasty will be severely kick ass by a group of white skinned guys – and they will blame you, the ruler of another ethnic group.

You: so…… how did we conquer this country

Prime Minister: As you can see, living in this country, if you are an emperor who has everything you want, it is difficult not to become an idiot,Just like your future children, they have never experienced your efforts and hardships in conquering a country. Under our foolish feudal system, they will soon become addicted to pleasure, after all, there are much more fun here than on the grassland,Otherwise, why did that crazy giant Mongol Empire ultimately choose to stay here and establish the Yuan Dynasty

You: Then I can let them change to my hairstyle, right

Prime Minister: Of course… but the cost is that hundreds of years later they will still use this as one of the reasons why you are a tyrant… and countless rebels will use it as an excuse to rebel against you

You:there are always some of them willing to accept all of the above!

Prime Minister: Indeed, so future museums will have information about your artifacts

You: I’m going to kill them all!!!!

Prime Minister: Really? You killed them, who will give you a gorgeous house, delicious food, beautiful women, and a group of men willing to cut their own dick to serve you? Are you really willing to give up such a beautiful life and spend the rest of your life killing and fearing being assassinated

You: I choose to join them

Prime Minister: So, enjoy your brief imperial life, at most for a few hundred years they will take everything away, and you will fall in love with the life here and become a minority of China, If a snake swallows an elephant – it will only transform itself into the shape of an elephant, What you can kill is only the emperor, not this huge civilization

you see, these people are all native Chinese now

Not exactly an “off the hook” situation, but I did go to court against an attorney and won.

The high school my youngest son attended denied him entry into the National Honor Society, even though he fit every bit of the criteria. It seems he was “black balled” by one or two of his teachers over personal grudges. I looked up the rules for admission to the society and found that black balling was forbidden. I asked to see the votes and vote tally records. I was told I was not allowed to see them. So, I filed a FOIA suit against the school.

A couple of days after filing the papers, I got a call from their “high-powered” attorney from our state capital. He wanted contact info for my lawyer. I told him I didn’t have a lawyer. He told me to get him the contact info when I hired my lawyer. I told him I had no intention of hiring a lawyer.

He then tried to bully me by telling me there was no possible way I could win, and that I would have to pay the school for his attorney fees. I ignored his threat and ended the conversation.

About 4 days before the hearing was set, the attorney called me again. He asked again for my attorney. I again told him I had none, and had no intention of getting one. Same old bullying started again. I ignored it again.

The day before the hearing, he called again and asked if we could just settle this. I declined.

The day of the hearing, I met this attorney at the courthouse. He entered the courtroom before I did, and introduced himself to the judge. As I entered, I looked at the judge and said, “Hi, Jim.” He responded with, “Hi, Eric.” I could see the attorney’s face, and the look was priceless. As the old saying goes, he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

I prevailed in my suit and the school was told they were required to give me the info. They said they didn’t have it. It must have gotten discarded. I pointed out to them that the National Honor Society rules required them to keep the information for at least 12 months. I let them know that I could contact the society and have them drop the entire school from their program for breaking this rule, with the implication that they were still allowing black balling of students. I received some apologies and promises that they would read the rules and follow them in the future.

My son was inducted into NHS the following year.

By the way, I had been denied membership in NHS by the same school some thirty or so years earlier. I didn’t complain. Even though I was valedictorian, they were correct in not inducting me. I was too ornery to fit the mold. My son did fit, it was just that a couple of teachers didn’t like him.

NEIGHBORS HATED THE COLOR OF MY HOUSE AND REPAINTED IT WHILE I WAS AWAY — I WAS ENRAGED & TOOK MY REVENGE.

My house is on a corner lot. Two years ago, a newlywed couple moved in next door and immediately made weird comments about my house’s yellow color. Soon, they outright DEMANDED I paint it a different color. My house has always been yellow; I love it, and there’s no rule against it.

They called the police and the city on me, but both told them to back off since I hadn’t done anything wrong. They even tried suing me (the suit got tossed, and they had to pay my legal fees) and attempted to rally our neighbors to form an HOA to force me to repaint. Our neighbors told them to get lost, so now they’re alienated by everyone.

I had to go out of town for two weeks, and when I got back, my house was GRAY. I almost drove past it because I’m so used to my yellow house. The neighbor from across the street came over and showed me pictures he took of the painting company setting up and doing the work. He and another neighbor called the police, but the painting company had a valid work order and had been paid, so the police couldn’t do anything.

It seemed everything done to my house was legal and no damage was done. But I was enraged and planned my revenge. Next day, I… repainted it yellow.

Yellow house
Yellow house

Putin TV Address: “Entitled to Strike” Nations Giving Weapons to Ukraine

Putin entitled header large
Putin entitled header large

“Russia considers itself entitled to use (hypersonic) weapons against facilities of those countries that allow their weapons to be used against Russian facilities.”

Those are the words of Russian President Vladimir Putin in televised remarks today from the Kremlin in Moscow.  Here is a brief video showing him making the announcement:

 

 

NUCLEAR ATTACK WARNINGS TRIGGERED THIS MORNING!

Russia’s ICBM launch at Ukraine this morning triggered early warning systems – – – and such launches are, by default, assumed to be nuclear. So for a short time, the US and Europe thought Russia was nuking Ukraine.

They only knew that it was not nuclear by checking to see if the city of Dnipro was still physically there after the impacts.

Essentially, If Russia decides to nuke Ukraine … the west will watch because they can do nothing other than that.

Second important thing to note: Russia has proven that it can deliver a conventional or nuclear payload to any place without a problem.

Which brings us back to President Putin’s address to his nation just hours ago . . . . NATO member countries have already supplied weapons being used to strike Russia.  Among those weapons have been: Tanks, Infantry Fighting Vehicles, Rockets, Missiles, Speed-Boat-Bombs, and Drones.

The United States, United Kingdom, France, Germany and other nations have long ago provided such weapons that have been – and still are – used to attack interior Russia.

That Russia has now announced they are “entitled” to strike seems the clearest indication yet that utterly massive escalation is coming in very short order.  Not necessarily in Ukraine, but on the territories of the countries who have been supplying weapons.

Hal Turner Analysis

Today’s use by Russia of an ICBM against Ukraine, albeit with only conventional explosives, should make clear to any RATIONAL person that the next step would be to use those same missiles with nuclear warheads.

There is no other RATIONAL interpretation possible!

Will the collective West see reality for what it is, or are they so immersed in their own echo chamber, that reality can no longer penetrate?

It seems to me that if the collective West does not stop what it’s doing with Ukraine, Russia is going to strike.  VERY soon.   Maybe before Thanksgiving.

For the almost three years that this Russia-Ukraine Conflict has gone on, I have implored readers of this website, and listeners to my radio show to get prepared: Emergency food, water, medicines you need to live on, a way to cook without electricity or utility-supplied gas, a way to heat your home without utilities (Fireplace, wood-burning stove, etc.).  I have urged folks to get a generator and have spare fuel stored outside, to run that generator, to keep your refrigerators running and maybe a light on in the house.  I have recommended a flashlight in every room of your home, or at least one for each family member, with plenty of spare batteries for those flashlights.  I have recommended a portable AM/FM/SW radio for local news and info and spare batteries for those portable radios.  I have urged people to get COMMUNICATIONS Gear, a CB, HAM, or GMRS radio, so they can communicate locally if everything goes down.  I have advised folks to get a FIRST-AID KIT for minor cuts and bruises, or, God Forbid, major war wounds.

Now that an ICBM has actually been fired in Combat for the first time in Human History, a threshold has been crossed.  Things go downhill VERY FAST from here.

If you don’t have the prepping items I mentioned above, you are totally screwed.

Please, I IMPLORE YOU, get “prepped” right now.  Today.  As best you can.  There seems to be very little time remaining before you will need those preps.

Raw Doggin’

On 2024/7/22, China brokered unity of 14 Palestinian militant groups. So-called Beijing Declaration. Paving the path for a united Palestine to become a UN member so that UN can militarily protect Palestine “state”. After that, Chinese ambassador to UN urged Israel to withdraw its troops in Palestine.

Predictably, Netanyahu is mad, mad & mad. He went to USA on 2024/7/23 to meet both Harris & Trump. He spoke in US Congress. He urged USA to organise a Mideast version of NATO.

He then propagated the threat of Iran. He accused the Iran-backed Lebanon of attacking the Israel-occupied Golan Height on 2024/7/27 though Lebanon denied it. In “retaliation”, Netanyahu attacked Lebanon & threatened to turn it to a full blown war. Israel has assassinated Hezbollah Commander Shukr.

The world smelt fish.

On 2024/7/29, Turkey threatened to (militarily) protect Palestinians if Israel creates fear & regional conflict.

Russia warned Israel not to change the status quo in Mideast.

USA, France, UK & Germany urged Israel to stop the Lebanese conflict. And urged Iran not to escalate the tension due to Golan.

Iran, Iraq, Syria all said, judging from the debris, Golan was hit by Israeli rocket.

2024/7/31: Hamas leader Haniyeh was assassinated in Iran when he attended the swear-in ceremony of the new Iranian president. Who did it? Somebody who has both high-level intelligence & precision missiles like Israel & USA. (Aug1 news said the short-range missile was made by Israel.)

US Defense Secy Austin refused to comment. State Secy Blinken denied knowledge or involvement in assassination. but not yet Israel.

Other than Hamas leader, another top Hamas who was detained by Israel in West Bank suddenly died of an “illness” within days of Beijing Declaration.

United States worked with former Australian leaders to turn their peaceful country into a weapons platform to use “to attack China”, an astonishing new book reveals. The move was a key element in the long-running US campaign to prevent Asians ruling Asia, it is revealed in ‘Nuked: The Submarine Fiasco that Sank Australia’s Sovereignty’, by Andrew Fowler (Melbourne University Press).

United States was unhappy that positive relationships were growing between Australia and its Asian neighbours, and particularly China, which had become the country’s biggest trading partner. United States also disliked Australia’s involvement with France, seen as too friendly to Asian nations. American military strategists decided to reverse that by getting Australia to jettison the French, and tying the southern continent to the US and UK with a war submarines deal known as AUKUS, the book reveals, in an extract printed in Declassified Australia.

To enable the plan to go ahead, mainstream journalists launched a major campaign saying that China intended to invade Australia – a story that had no basis in fact. A key player behind the scenes was Andrew Shearer, a former Australian national security adviser who had worked with the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), an American think tank fixated on using American money, influence and military force to halt the development of China with a war – preferably fought by others. Shearer returned to the Australian government and ended up in the high-powered role of Cabinet Secretary under Scott Morrison, Australia’s 30th prime minister, elected in August 2018, the book says :

“From the moment Shearer re-entered government, the tempo of the argument about which submarine to buy shifted from the best for defending Australia to the best for attacking China,”

Fowler writes. While the deal was presented to the public as defensive, the players were clearly in attack mode. The book says :

“In December 2018, the Morrison government announced that the first new submarine would be named HMAS Attack”

But despite the media’s best efforts to vilify China, the Australian public soon realized that AUKUS, forced on the country with no consultation, was a terrible deal for the country. United States was using Australia, harming its trade deals, and putting it in significant danger – and Canberra was not only letting this happen, but was buying it with a vast sum of the Australian people’s money. Worse, Australia’s leaders appeared to have literally surrendered the country’s sovereignty to United States, with American agents placed in top positions of governance. A growing movement to reclaim Australia’s independence started to grow.

Author Andrew Fowler is an award-winning investigative journalist. Declassified Australia is part of a network of independent journalistic groups that produces news that bypasses the biases and covert agendas of corporate mainstream media.

main qimg f4f8513f990f33bbfc05fb9f7fce45a2
main qimg f4f8513f990f33bbfc05fb9f7fce45a2

Footnotes

What are your 10 laws of manhood?

  1. Talk less, DO MORE…
  2. Know how to control your temper and emotions
  3. Life WILL beat you down, you stay down for a while, rejuvenate, get back up and kick a**
  4. DO NOT BE AFRAID.
  5. Hate failing but DO NOT BE AFRAID to fail. Take risks.
  6. When it’s seeming like the argument isn’t going help either way, just cut it.
  7. A Man without goals is a man without passion. A Man without passion is a dead man. Dream big, accomplish bigger.
  8. RESPECT YOURSELF. RESPECT YOURSELF. RESPECT YOURSELF!!! When you ask her out and she says no, understand it’s a NO and move on to the next girl. If she verbally abuses you, physically abuses, if she doesn’t appreciate you, no one told you there was not an exit… unless you are married.
  9. Be on your grind. Grind while they party, grind while they sleep, grind while they have fun. Because in the future, when everything goes well, you’ll be having a better life than if you’d chosen to party your youth away
  10. Refer 1

Shorpy

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I certainly don’t relish telling this; it was not my finest hour: In my late 20s, I got a DWI. I think my BAC was .12. Over the limit by 4 beers. — Still, quite illegal, and not something I’m happy about; glad I didn’t hurt anyone.

I was guilty, so I called a criminal attorney friend of mine and asked, “Do you still need an attorney if your goal is just to plead guilty?” — He said that everyone needed an attorney, so I went with it. But, I didn’t leave everything blindly up to him.

I looked up the relevant statute, and it clearly said that everyone convicted of DWI 1st Offense would serve 3 days in the county jail. — Unfortunate. I certainly was not looking forward to it; I’d never crapped in front of other people before.

BUT …. my attorney said that this could be worked out a different way; you would go in on a Friday afternoon and come out on a Sunday, and 1, 2, 3: That’s the end of it.

And, most importantly, the timing of this would be worked out with the probation officer. It would not, of course, happen immediately upon my entering a guilty plea, as the law I read seemed to imply. — The Penal Code is, of course, available to anyone, in full, on the internet.


I guess the lined-up misdemeanor pleas came in all at the same time. Rather than seeing the criminal court-at-law judge, who was an attorney and dealt with these matters, usually, it was taken on by the County Judge, with no law degree. — All of that is fine.

I appeared with all of those others, and we, individually, went down the line and swore that we would tell the truth, the whole truth …

And then, I heard that I was about to go to jail for three days. Immediately, upon final judgment being entered.

Absolutely not why my attorney had said; what I had been telling him would happen; what was happening.


At the time, I was office manager at the biggest construction corporation in town, and it was a Thursday. Payday was Friday. If they put me in jail, I wouldn’t get out until Monday, but the only part that really mattered is that I would not be at work on Friday.

Immediately after I was hired on, I was told, by the President of the corporation: “Jared, whatever you do during the week, pay your people on time.”

It’s not that missing payroll would get me fired. It’s that missing payroll was wrong.

And, it’s also a crime.

If my attorney had told me before that I wouldn’t be at work the rest of the day, and the next day, after the court appearance, I could’ve made that work.

But, that’s not how it happened.


So, I spoke up. I pointed my finger at my attorney — (I was not pleased) — and said, “I told you this was going to happen. I told you this is what the law said. The judge just asked me to swear that I’d received competent advice from you, and that’s patently false!

“What am I to do now? — Ask the judge to accept me firing you and rescinding my guilty plea??? That will sound good! And, then I’ll have to sue you for damages. Not necessarily because I may get fired, but it’s about more than that. You are my fiduciary, and you were wrong.

“That’s not going to work. Fix this, or I’m going to ask the judge to forgive me for hiring you.”

The judge, of course, could hear all of this.


It worked out in my favor; I’ll leave it at that. — If this had been the attorney’s plan all along, he would’ve been a genius.

Ten rules of being a man

  1. Be self-sufficient. Unless you’re 4, do your own laundry, cook and feed yourself, clean up after yourself. Pay your bills. Be a grown up.
  2. Respect women. Yes means yes. No means no. Don’t be a jerk, don’t discriminate and don’t think in stereotypes.
  3. Be driven. Don’t be an amoeba. Strive for something. Doesn’t matter what. Have a passion. Ambition.
  4. Have courage. Stand for something. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
  5. Be clean and well-groomed. If your hair refuses to grow in an organized and attractive way, shave it off.
  6. Be kind and generous to service staff. Always.
  7. Take care of your parents. Make sure they’re healthy, want for nothing, and see your face reasonably often.
  8. Have clear boundaries and don’t let other people trample upon them. No matter how attractive they are.
  9. Be funny.
  10. Be curious and explore the world. Travel, try new things, learn and grow constantly.

HK’s top court dismisses final appeal by Jimmy Lai and former lawmakers

Hong Kong’s top court has unanimously dismissed a final attempt by Apple Daily founder Jimmy Lai and six former lawmakers to overturn their convictions for participating in an unauthorized march in 2019.

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main qimg d8252428f2c07d219bb7e4051dd5b1fa

Lai, Martin Lee, Albert Ho, Margaret Ng, Lee Cheuk-yan, Cyd Ho, and Leung Kwok-hung were found guilty of organizing and taking part in the procession on August 18, which followed an approved anti-police demonstration led by the now-disbanded Civil Human Rights Front.

While a lower court earlier acquitted them of organizing the assembly, it upheld the participation convictions.

The final appeal had centred on the issue of “operational proportionality”, a principle set out by two decisions of Britain’s Supreme Court.

The appellants argued that the court should conduct proportionality tests when passing a verdict and that a conviction would be a form of restriction that infringes on the fundamental constitutional rights of the freedoms of assembly and expression.

But judges at the Court of Final Appeal on Monday rejected the argument that the arrest, prosecution, conviction and sentence must be separately justified as proportionate, saying a separate proportionality inquiry was “inappropriate and uncalled for”.

“The defendants’ convictions and consequent sentences do not stand alone. They are the result of the judge applying the law to the evidence and being satisfied individually of their guilt,” the ruling said.

“The same pertains to the defendants’ proposition regarding arrest and prosecution. Those actions similarly do not occur in isolation. They represent steps taken to enforce particular offence-creating laws.”

Two presiding judges, Chief Justice Andrew Cheung and Roberto Ribeiro, said the two British legal precedents cited by the appellants “should not be followed in Hong Kong” because of differences between the two jurisdictions.

“In Hong Kong, statutory and other provisions which are found to be unconstitutional may be struck down as invalid whereas in the UK, a provision that is declared to be incompatible continues to be enforced as a valid law, with potentially different issues regarding proportionality arising thereafter,” the judges wrote.

Fellow justice Johnson Lam added that there is no basis in the SAR to consider the prosecution, conviction, and sentence as “distinct, standalone restrictions” from the rule creating the offense relating to freedom of assembly.

Lord David Neuberger of Abbotsbury, a non-permanent judge from Britain, said the constitutional differences in Hong Kong and the UK “do not mandate a different approach when it comes to considering whether a restriction on the freedom of assembly is proportionate”, but they “do require a different approach if the court concludes that the restriction is not proportionate”.

Ng, who attended the hearing, said it was inappropriate to comment on the ruling.

“We haven’t had a chance to examine this very important judgment. This is not the right time to make comments. We just want to take this occasion to thank our legal teams and all the people who have been supporting us all the time,” she said outside the court.

Lee, meanwhile, left the court, saying he had “no comment”.

Wife Asks For An Open Marriage INSTANTLY Regrets It

Yeah , it happened to me. Let me tell you , it sucked.

It was in the evening one night and I called a friend who lived in the cottage behind me and asked if I could borrow a couple of eggs. She said yeah , come over and so I did.

When I got to her place she had a house full of people . It was still summer and though it was dark outside , all of her windows were open. Everybody was talking so when I knocked I didn’t get heard .

While standing there knocking , I heard one person say , “ is someone coming over?” And my friend answered “yeah , Wendy is.” Well that response opened up the floor to a bunch of negative comments. There must have been 10 people there and I heard bull shit out of at least 7 of them. I had no idea that this many people disliked me. And all the comments were hurtful.

After hearing enough , I turned around and started to leave when the front door swung open and there stood my friend. She was only one that stated that I “wasn’t that bad” while a few others said nothing to defend me .

Now I’m standing there with Hugh alligator tears trying to break free , when it dawned on me that these people were spinless , no good , fake pieces of crap. All of them had been at my door at one time or another during the past week, asking for a variety of things. All of them got what they wanted. All of them came over every morning for a cup of coffee and they got that to. Several of them knew that I was pretty good at mechanics and they came by asking what I thought was wrong with their car and I told them and I was right too. Basically I treated them like a friend , but tonight was the night that everyone hated me and they were quick to put in their ,2¢ .

Let’s just say that I was pretty hurt by their comments , but before I left , I faced each one who had said something and I repeated their words back to them. I wanted them to know that I knew exactly what they said . Then I just shook my head no and I walked out.

I can’t say that I was happy when I left , but there wasn’t any more misunderstood words or feelings and I was able to free myself from those people and their fake ways of life. I cried a lot that night and for many nights after , but at least I was clear headed about my so called friends and in the end I was better for it.

China’s Taichi-II Chip: World’s First Fully Optical AI Processor Outperforms NVIDIA H100 in Energy Efficiency

Beijing researchers have unveiled the Taichi-II chip, the world’s first fully optical AI processor, which outperforms NVIDIA’s H100 in energy efficiency.

Introduction

In a remarkable advancement for artificial intelligence (AI) technology, researchers from Beijing have introduced the world’s first fully optical AI chip, known as Taichi-II.

This innovative chip has set new standards in energy efficiency, surpassing NVIDIA’s renowned H100 GPU by a significant margin.

  • Fully Optical: Unlike traditional chips that rely on electronic signals, Taichi-II operates entirely on light, leading to significantly reduced energy consumption.
  • Energy Efficiency: The chip boasts a remarkable six orders of magnitude improvement in energy efficiency compared to conventional methods in low-light imaging scenarios.
  • Performance: In addition to energy efficiency, Taichi-II has shown a 40% accuracy boost in classification tasks compared to NVIDIA’s H100.
  • FFM Learning: The chip utilizes a novel training method called Fully Forward Mode (FFM) learning, enabling parallel processing directly on the optical chip.

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Taichi-II: A New Era in AI Technology

The Taichi-II chip represents a major leap from its predecessor, the original Taichi chip, which had already set impressive records for energy efficiency.

Earlier this year, the Taichi chip demonstrated energy efficiency surpassing NVIDIA’s H100 GPU by over a thousandfold.

Nvidia’s H100 AI GPUs Projected to Surpass Energy Consumption of entire nations

The newly unveiled Taichi-II builds on this achievement with further advancements that enhance performance across various applications.

Developed by Professors Fang Lu and Dai Qionghai from Tsinghua University, the Taichi-II chip was officially revealed on August 7, 2024.

This breakthrough promises to transform AI training and modeling with its cutting-edge optical technology.

Intel Hits Key Milestones with 18A Chip production, Reinforcing Foundry Leadership and Future Innovation – techovedas

The Advantages of Optical Computing

Unlike traditional electronic-based AI training methods, the Taichi-II chip utilizes optical processes, which drastically improve efficiency. The shift to optical computing is a significant breakthrough, allowing Taichi-II to handle complex computations with unprecedented energy efficiency.

Key advancements of the Taichi-II chip include:
  • Training Speed: The chip accelerates the training of optical networks with millions of parameters by an order of magnitude.
  • Accuracy Improvement: Classification tasks have seen a 40% boost in accuracy.
  • Energy Efficiency: In low-light imaging scenarios, Taichi-II’s energy efficiency has improved by six orders of magnitude.

These enhancements set a new benchmark for AI hardware, highlighting the chip’s potential to revolutionize the industry.

The Technology Behind Taichi-II: A Deep Dive

The Taichi-II chip represents a significant leap forward in computing technology, leveraging the power of light instead of electricity. To understand this breakthrough, let’s delve into the core concepts:

Optical Computing vs. Electronic Computing

  • Electronic Computing: Traditional computers use electrical signals to represent and manipulate data. This involves the movement of electrons through transistors, which can be energy-intensive and limited in speed due to electrical resistance.
  • Optical Computing: This emerging technology uses light to perform calculations. Photons, the particles of light, can carry information at much higher speeds and with less energy loss compared to electrons.

How Taichi-II Works

  • Fully Forward Mode (FFM) Learning: This novel training method is central to Taichi-II’s operation. Unlike traditional backpropagation algorithms used in neural networks, FFM allows for direct processing of information on the optical chip, eliminating the need for data transfer between different components.
  • Optical Neural Network: The chip essentially creates an optical neural network, where light is used to simulate the behavior of neurons and synapses. This enables parallel processing of information, significantly accelerating computations.
  • Optical Interconnects: Instead of electrical wires, Taichi-II uses optical fibers to transmit data between different components. This reduces signal loss and increases data transfer speeds.

Key Advantages of Optical Computing

  • High Speed: Light travels at incredibly high speeds, enabling faster data processing and transmission.
  • Low Energy Consumption: Optical components generally consume less power than their electronic counterparts, leading to increased energy efficiency.
  • Parallel Processing: Optical computing allows for massive parallel processing, handling multiple tasks simultaneously.
  • Reduced Heat Generation: Optical components produce less heat compared to electronic components, improving system reliability and reducing cooling requirements.

Challenges and Future Directions

While Taichi-II is a promising development, there are still challenges to overcome:

  • Optical Components: Developing efficient and cost-effective optical components remains a significant hurdle.
  • Interfacing with Electronic Systems: Seamless integration of optical and electronic components is crucial for practical applications.
  • Algorithm Development: New algorithms and software tools are needed to fully harness the potential of optical computing.

Despite these challenges, the potential of optical computing is immense. As research and development continue, we can expect to see even more advanced optical chips with broader applications in fields such as artificial intelligence, high-performance computing, and data centers.

Fully Forward Mode (FFM) Learning: A Breakthrough Technique

A standout feature of the Taichi-II chip is its use of Fully Forward Mode (FFM) learning. This innovative approach allows for high-precision training directly on the optical chip, enabling parallel processing of machine learning tasks. According to Xue Zhiwei, lead author of the study and a doctoral student, FFM learning supports large-scale network training with exceptional accuracy.

The FFM learning method leverages high-speed optical modulators and detectors, offering performance that could potentially surpass GPUs in accelerated learning scenarios. This technology shifts optical computing from theoretical to practical, large-scale applications, opening new possibilities for AI.

Strategic Implications and Future Prospects

The release of the Taichi-II chip comes at a crucial moment. With the US imposing restrictions on China’s access to advanced GPUs for AI training, Taichi-II provides a viable alternative that could help China overcome these limitations.

This innovation is strategically important as it enables continued progress in AI technology despite geopolitical challenges.

Moreover, the timing of Taichi-II’s introduction is significant in light of reports suggesting NVIDIA’s high-tech AI chips may be reaching Chinese military officials. The Taichi-II chip’s performance and availability could play a key role in China’s technological advancements and defense capabilities.

Malaysia Targets $270 Billion Semiconductor Exports by 2030 to Become World’s 6th Largest Chip Exporter – techovedas

Conclusion

The Taichi-II chip represents a major milestone in optical computing and AI technology. With its exceptional energy efficiency and advanced performance, Taichi-II sets a new standard for AI hardware.

It also offers a strategic alternative in a fast-evolving tech landscape. As research and development advance, Taichi-II highlights the remarkable progress in AI and optical computing.

Linda’s Easy Lasagna

This is my favorite lasagna recipe because you do not cook the lasagna noodles first. I have always disliked cooking the lasagna noodles, so this is a great solution for me. This turns out perfect every time.

lindas easy lasagna
lindas easy lasagna

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground beef or turkey or Italian sausage*
  • 1 jar spaghetti sauce or homemade sauce
  • 1 can tomato sauce
  • 1 tomato sauce can water
  • 2 pounds ricotta or cottage cheese, mixed with 4 eggs
  • 12 ounces lasagna noodles, UNCOOKED
  • 4 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
  • Grated Parmesan cheese
  • Garlic powder
  • Salt

Instructions

  1. Brown meat. Drain.
  2. Add sauces and water.
  3. Spoon a small amount of sauce onto the bottom of a lasagna pan or a 13 x 9-inch baking dish.
  4. Place a layer of UNCOOKED noodles (overlapping slightly), one-third of the cottage cheese mixture, a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese and one-third of the shredded cheese.
  5. Pour about one-third of the sauce over the top.
  6. Repeat twice more. Cover with more cheese.
  7. Bake, covered and sealed with foil (DO NOT LET THE FOIL TOUCH THE CHEESE), at 350 degrees F for 1 hour.
  8. Uncover and bake 15 minutes longer to brown the top.
  9. Let stand for 15 minutes before cutting.

Notes

* Remove Italian sausage from casings and crumble as it cooks.

I usually make this with Italian sausage, but I have also used sliced cooked meatballs. It’s yummy whatever you decide to use! Of the two spaghetti sauce options, if you have time, go with the homemade sauce!

You can also bake for 1 hour without the cheese on top, then put the cheese on top and bake 15 minutes longer uncovered.

Little Red Balloons

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Matt Strempel

I can’t put my finger on why I murdered Jerry, because I lost my fingers in an accident.Accident. That is to say, Jerry hit the go button on the waste disposal unit while I was fixing it, and it munched my right hand off at the wrist. To be fair, the robotic prosthetic is about a thousand times better than my real hand was, but it hurt like hell at the time. He maintains I said, “Hit it,” but what I said was, “Quit it.” I was always telling Jerry to quit it. He was the most infuriating guy in the entire universe, I’m telling you. I should know; as a DSD I’ve seen more of the universe than most.A DSD is a Deep Space Diviner. In short, we look for water out in the dark corners of the universe in the hope of finding evidence of alien life. I used to get work out on farms and such, walking around with a curled piece of wire waiting for the thing to snap down towards the ground. That’s when I’d tell the boys to get digging. I never missed. Went all over the country helping folks get water out of the ground. I’m telling you, I could find water in the middle of a goddamn desert. Now I follow my hunches into deep space.When I heard they were asking for water diviners to head into space I thought it was some big joke. Checked the date to see if it was April 1st and everything. But it’s no joke. Turns out it’s cheaper to have guys like me out in space than sending probes from Earth.So anyway, they’ve had us out in Sector 35 for two years. Me and Jerry Portman. I told them I could do it on my own, but company regulations state I gotta have a partner. Jerry goddamn Portman from Chicago. I couldn’t stand him.How do I explain this to you? I mean, how do you come across a guy that can make you feel claustrophobic in the vastness of space? Even when I couldn’t see him, it was like he was right next to me with his stale open-mouth breathing. I’ve sent countless requests to be transferred, or have him transferred, or sought permission to blast him out the goddamn airlock, but no luck. I knew nothing was going to come of all the complaints, but it was the only way I could get the frustration off my chest.It’s true that in space no one can hear you scream, but email works pretty good.Anyway, that opening line about not being able to put my finger on why I killed him on account of not having any fingers? That’s the type of corny gag that Jerry loved. Drove me crazy. Is there anything more infuriating than a guy who laughs at his own jokes? I must have heard him use variations of “lend you a hand”, “right-hand man”, and “second hand” about a million times. He laughed every single time like it was the first time anyone ever said, “Get a grip” to a guy who just lost their hand and was rolling around on the floor spraying blood all over the goddamn ship.You ever see a gushing wound in zero gravity? It’s really something. It looks like the wound is spurting little red balloons. Or, it’s like looking at cells under a microscope.Space does that. Changes your perception of size. Entire planets appear tiny, then, the next second, a speck of space rock hitting the ship could end your entire existence. Big is small, small is enormous.Anyway, the latest thing with Jerry was he wanted to head out on this new vector. I’m telling you right now, where he wanted to go is a bust. Oh, but he’s “got a feeling”. Feeling, my ass. This guy hadn’t found a goddamn drop of water in two years. Plus, we would have had to go through a goddamn asteroid belt.It’s not that he was bad at his job—he was terrible—it’s that he was bad at everything. I mean, literally, everything. You ever meet a guy who couldn’t even use the goddamn toothpaste properly? I mean, who squeezes from the middle? Leaves the lid open so I’ve got a tube that’s flat through the centre, with all the good paste at the bottom, blocked by dried toothpaste at the top. He was such a goddamn imbecile.The thing is, though, medically speaking—on paper—he was a goddamn genius. Like, off the charts smart. He’s just got no common sense. Know what I mean? As in, he could solve the most complex mathematical equation known to man, but he’d set fire to his helmet. He really did that. Tried to make some modifications and shorted the regulator. Nearly killed us. He was always nearly killing us.I’ll say it: Jerry Portman was the stupidest guy ever to be classified as a genius.I swear he has nearly killed me at least a dozen times. Obviously, losing my hand was pretty bad, but he’s also shut off my oxygen while I was outside repairing a cracked solar panel. I was under 50% oxygen saturation when I finally got back inside. That much carbon dioxide in your lungs? You can’t take that too long. When I hit the emergency retract button on my umbilical to get back inside, well, let me just say, if I’d had the strength to even stand up, I swear that would have been it. I would have murdered Jerry right then.I think the worst one was when he opened the bay door—that’s where we keep the drones—before I was in my suit. I know it’s against the regulations to be in the drone bay without your suit because of the potential for that exact situation, but fucking Jerry, man. The guys who wrote the regulations must have been like, “What’s the most galactically stupid thing anyone could do in any given situation?” and then they’d write a rule just for kicks. They were probably laughing their asses off the entire time. “No one could be that much of a moron,” they’d say. But guess what, fellas. Jerry Portman is your guy. It’s just lucky there’s a ten-second warning before the doors open.You know the worst thing about guys like Jerry? It’s never their fault.“It was an accident.”He said it every goddamn time. It’s always an accident with these guys. Like that absolves them from any wrongdoing. As if just because you didn’t do it on purpose, all is forgiven.Imagine opening the bay door while there’s a guy in there working on the drones.Speaking of the drones. Jerry lost another one yesterday. This should come as a great surprise to exactly no one, but even for him, this was stupid. That’s three of our six drones lost. Don’t worry, Jerry. They’re only worth about half a billion dollars each.“But they’re fitted with a homing device to automatically self-dock if they lose the control signal” I hear you say. Yeah, well, you haven’t met Jerry. He’s the kind of guy a car salesman tells, “Pal, if you’re the kind of guy that accidentally locks his keys in the car, then this is the car for you. You can’t do it, see? It’s impossible.”Then, a week later, Jerry’s back and tells the guy he’s locked the keys in the goddamn car.Can you imagine being stuck in space with Jerry Portman? I’m telling you, it’s the pits.The first drone Jerry lost was on account of him tinkering with it. He was trying to make the water sensor more sensitive after striking out on another of his feelings. He’s always making excuses that it’s the equipment’s fault when he strikes out. So, yeah. The first drone he tinkered with—well, we don’t know what he did exactly—but the first time we took it out after he fiddled with it, it took off like a bullet and it was gone.I can still see Jerry watching the screen as we lost the signal. He was like a kid who’d taken his model plane out for its first flight and watched it disappear over the trees never to be seen again. Only this model plane cost half a billion dollars.The second one, I’m not sure about. He swears he didn’t touch it. For all his million faults, one thing Jerry wasn’t, was a liar. Maybe we chalk that one up to bad luck. Maybe the drone was a dud.But the latest one? Jesus Christ. I won’t bore you with a bunch of technical crap about how the drones work, let’s just say in the simplest terms, it confirms the presence of water in any form within a given target. Most commonly, this means we find a meteorite that we feel has potential, and the drone sends out a probe to take a sample. It’s basically a drill that bores into the target and removes a metre-long cylinder of material. If there’s a trace of water—it’s ice, of course—there’s a bunch of readings and measurements done by the computer and it sends the data back to Earth for further analysis.As you can imagine, a machine that performs this function is incredibly complex. So you don’t just open up a panel and start poking around with a goddamn Phillips-head. Well, you and I wouldn’t. But you know who would?So, yesterday he’s telling me, “I know what I’m doing this time,” as if he’s read the manual since losing the first drone. I just shake my head and leave him to it. I used to argue with him all the time, but I learnt pretty quick what a waste of breath that was. He’s one of those guys that when they get something in their head, you can’t shake it no matter how much sense you’re making. They could be wearing a red tshirt and you say, “Nice red tshirt,” and they say, “What’re talking about? It’s blue,” and you just have to say, “Fine, you moron. It’s blue,” and walk away.That’s what Jerry was like when he was tinkering. Maybe part of me thought he’d electrocute himself so I wouldn’t have to murder him.When he finished playing around with this drone, he came back into the control room and placed these screws and some other little bits and pieces in a drawer. He did it as if he didn’t want me to see it, but I saw it clear as day. You know when someone gets home drunk and they’re trying to be quiet but they make way more noise than if they just stumbled around? People trying to be discrete just scream I’m up to something fishy.So I say to Jerry, “What are those, from the drone?”

And he just says, “They’re spare. We don’t actually need them.”

Then I go off on one about how every single thing on this ship right down to the tiniest screw has been reduced in size and weight to make everything as light as possible—like, the angle of trajectory for our landing factors in the weight of the urine that will be in our bladders—but sure, Jerry. They’ve included a bunch of spare parts. “It’s not a goddamn IKEA chair, Jerry” I remember saying that to him like he was hiding some leftover dowel he forgot to put in.

Well, sure as eggs, Jerry sent the drone out yesterday and I’ll give you one guess what happened to it. You’re goddamn right it blew up. Nearly killed us.

He’s just lucky the drone was far enough from the ship that the explosion didn’t do any damage to the ship. Nothing that the self-diagnostics picked up, anyway. Naturally, I did my block at Jerry for nearly killing us again and I said someone’s going to have to go outside and have a closer inspection of the hull. Now, normally I’d be the guy that does that. I mean, you can’t leave something that important up to Jerry goddamn Portman.

Then I had a thought—maybe I would send Jerry out. It would be a real shame if his umbilical somehow untethered from the ship and he floated out into space…

Ashamed as I am to admit it, this was not the first time I’d thought about killing Jerry.

Did I tell you about the time Jerry destroyed one of my samples? You know how people who can’t cook, they say “Oh, so-and-so could burn water.” That’s what Jerry did. We got this sample back on the probe one time and it had all these microorganisms in it. The core sample was about 85% ice. Normally, we’re lucky if it’s even 5%. The core analysis told us it contained 37 different forms of bacteria plus a bunch of other unidentifiable crap all suspended in ice. It was the most exciting goddamn discovery since penicillin. So I placed the core in the freezer and looked forward to the fame and fortune awaiting those DSDs lucky enough to find something. I couldn’t sleep that cycle I was so excited.

Of course, back then I didn’t have a complete understanding of the magnitude of Jerry’s stupidity. Had I known better, I would have guarded that freezer with my goddamn life.

Now, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least to discover Jerry had destroyed my sample by switching the freezer off by accident. These things happen to the best of us. But Jerry isn’t your average moron. No, Jerry decides he wants to take a look at the sample himself under the microscope. Only, the microscope doesn’t work with a chunk of ice, you gotta melt it down to go in a petri dish. So Jerry puts the core in the blast box—the blast box, I should explain, is this unit that works like an oven or freezer depending on what you need heating or chilling. Only, the blast box will roast or freeze something in three seconds. In hindsight, this is exactly the sort of thing you could see happening, but the designers of the blast box would have been counting on the operators being actual scientists, not Jerry goddamn Portman.

Now, someone like you or me, we’d take a small piece of the sample if we wanted to take a closer look. Not Jerry, though. Jerry Portman’s the kind of guy who takes your alien lifeforms precariously suspended in million-year-old ice and microwaves them to kingdom come. “Why the hell did he…? Oh, never mind,” I hear you saying. You’re getting the picture now. He cost me a lot that day. Maybe not money—who knows—but certainly renown. They probably would have named one of the bacteria after me.

That was two years ago, but I remember it like yesterday. Time flies when you’re having fun.

Yesterday, when Jerry was out on the spacewalk, I considered trying to make it look like an accident. But there are so many instruments taking every goddamn reading on this ship that they’d know for sure I had something to do with it. I mean, no amount of tinkering could have got the drone to accidentally deploy its probe with such surgical precision right up Jerry Portman’s goddamn ass.

I’ll be leaving Sector 35 for Earth in a year next week. When I splashdown and I get arrested on live television, it’ll be because I murdered Jerry Portman. They’ll drag me out of the ocean next to those giant orange balloon floaties and put me straight in handcuffs but I’ll be laughing my ass off. You can’t spell manslaughter without laughter, right?

I’ll be thinking about the last thing Jerry saw as he was fatally probed: me in the cockpit with the drone remote, my smiling face looking out through the glass where I’d stuck a piece of paper saying IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.

Thousands of little red balloons.

I just want them to know I was provoked. I was standing my ground. I feared for my life, Your Honor.

It wasn’t self-defence, really, more like self-preservation. I’m not sure if there’re any laws about killing in self-preservation but if I didn’t kill him, he was going to kill me. I’m absolutely goddamn sure of it.

The rationale is completely different for the two peoples.

For Korea, we can examine 90s Korean dramas for clues.

Korean homes had tiny dining tables with short legs, bedrooms had no beds, and few or no furniture.

Pork belly was a special treat, while beef was an extravagance.

I didn’t understand these cultural stereotypes until I briefly dated a Korean girl, who patiently explained that Korea has always been an impoverished nation, being stuck on a harsh peninsula that was subject to regular conflict both domestic and foreign, and natural disasters aplenty.

That is why sejong developed hangul to supplement hanja, or Chinese block writing, which remained the court language to facilitate exchange with the Chinese dynasties.

He wanted to arrest Korean sinicization, because contrary to conventional wisdom, Korea received way more benefit from the tributary relationship than it paid out, other than the swallowing of national pride.

Chinese block writing enabled the Korean literati to unlock the intellectual treasures of Chinese civilization, as generations of Koreans made a beeline for Chinese cities to learn governance, medicine, farming, construction, warmaking, the arts, religion and philosophy. Trade with China was also crucial to the Korean peninsula, which lacked the production capacity of the mainland.

In both Koreas today, individuals are given 2 or 3 monosyllabic character names, despite Korean being a spelled multisyllabic language. To the uninitiated, Korean names spelled in the Latin alphabet can easily be mistaken for pinyin Chinese names.

The south Korean flag, the taegukgi, is composed of the taoist symbol for yin yang and divination symbols from the yijing.

Deep Chinese roots underpin the answer to “what does it mean to be Korean?”

The only way to arrest the slide is to put up walls and insist “we have evolved, we are unique, we are better”.

Otherwise Korea won’t stay Korean.


As for India, domestic politics require distractions. And China is a very good card to deal when domestic pressures build up, or to trade for advantages with major powers.

India has received little blowback for a string of bad behavior in recent years, because it is seen as a vital American partner to contain China. India is reselling Russian energy, assassinating foreign citizens on their home soil, denying market access on whim and refusing investors a square deal on FDI. But it receives in turn high end military tech transfers, access to arms and trade and tech privileges with the first world.

India shares a long border with China, though it is across the mostly impenetrable himalayas. The Indian military has been unable to beat the PLA the past 6 decades, and no Indian leader has been willing to back down from jawaharlal’s strategic overreach and reset relationships, much less exhort the electorate to “learn from China”.

The option remaining is to drum up passions and stir the pot, squaring the circle by hijacking the narrative with gems such is “India is china’s big brother, civilizationally” or “China should be grateful to India for the gift of Buddhism”.

The himalayas have limited contact between the peoples but India will seize on every excuse to claim credit—and elevated superiority—when none is due.

This fever will continue until a leader strong enough to challenge jawaharlal’s legacy emerges.

China’s Economy, Tech

Another brilliant post from Godfree Roberts

This week

Installed power generation capacity reached 3.0 billion kW, up 14.1% YoY. 38% of that came from wind and solar. America’s total installed capacity is 1.2 billion kW.

State Grid—the world’s single copper user—will spend $83 billion this year, beefing up its UHV network that covers 80% of China and carries power from western deserts to eastern industries. [China consumes twice as much electricity as the USA, where generation capacity is fallingEd]

Lithium phosphate batteries are $53/kWh, down from $95/kWh last year. There is now parity between ICE vehicles  and EV manufacturing costs. China has cornered the market on LFP.

China is first to create nuclear fusion plasma, way ahead in the most important race of all.

Apple dropped out of the top five smartphone sellers in China in Q2. Though smartphone shipments grew 8.9%, to 71.6mn units, Apple’s declined 3.1%. [Of Apple’s top 187 suppliers, 157 have factories in China].

The Senate National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) omitted a bill to ban the sale of DJI drones in the United States after it passed in the House. The absence does not yet mean the act is dead, but it is a positive step in the eyes of those who support the Chinese drone company.

China is building a national pilot testing system of ‘enlarged laboratories or shrunken production lines,’ to support key industries’ connection to the industrial internet, the Internet of Things and 5G technologies, supported by machine vision and industrial AI, to optimize process efficiency “through comprehensive perception, real-time analysis, scientific decision-making, and precise execution.” Chengdu’s proposed $750 million ‘pilot platform construction fund’ aims for 100 key pilot testing platforms and 500 products launched onto the market, and 100 innovative companies incubated by 2025. In Wuhan’s Optics Valley, three key pilot testing platforms are set up, targeting laser processing, drug development, and new display technology. Research suggests that the success rate of industrializing laboratory research is 30% without pilot testing, and 80% with a pilot run.

Ignore China’s share of total global exports and look at their share of manufactured exports, which has been stable at 20% for several years. The headline numbers say Chinese exports to the US have taken a big hit, from 22% of US goods imports now down to 14%. So is China losing a lot of market share? Most of that reduction in value is not real. Chinese solar panel makers can’t ship directly to the US because of tariffs. So they set up a factory in Vietnam and Malaysia and send it there, but it is still a Chinese-made product.

BYD just hired 10,000 recent graduates, 70% of whom have masters or doctoral degrees, 80% of them for R&D. BYD’s research team was awarded 15 patents/day last year. While BYD has been extremely fast at pumping out new products this year, it will be even faster in the future and its additional headcount will allow exploration into new areas. We will have to wait to see what those are. TP Huang

A sunlight-powered MAV drone weighing as much as a sheet of paper, just 4.21 grams, with its 20-centimeter wingspan, represents a dramatic downsizing from previous flying machines, which were typically meter-sized and weighed kilograms. This breakthrough, also published in Nature, opens up exciting possibilities for ultra-long endurance micro aerial vehicles. Such devices could potentially stay aloft indefinitely during daylight hours, making them ideal for applications like environmental monitoring, communication relays, or search and rescue operations in remote areas.

The jobless rate for the 16-24 age group, excluding students, dipped to 13.2% in June from May’s 14.2%. For the 25-29 age group, also excluding students, was 6.4%, a third consecutive month of decline. The rate for the 30-59 age group remained at 4%.

Apollo Go driverless taxis, launched in Wuhan in 2022, has expanded to ten other Chinese cities …. Its service has carried out 6m rides nationwide since launching. It now has more than 400 driverless cars on the road in Wuhan and plans to have 1,000

running by the end of this year. Most of its cars in Wuhan have “level four” autonomy, which means they do not require human intervention in most situations on the road but can get muddled in areas such as parking garages—which might explain why it asks customers to trudge through the city’s sweltering heat. The reason Apollo Go has … gained such favor with riders is that it is astonishingly cheap. Your correspondent’s 11-minute spin cost just 9.84 yuan ($1.35). Such fares are possible thanks to the largesse of Baidu, which is covering around 60% of the cost of a ride. That is not sustainable. But, thanks to plummeting costs, the company reckons its robotaxis in Wuhan will break even by the end of the year and turn a profit in 2025. In May it unveiled its sixth-generation vehicle, which costs less than half the previous model. As the business has expanded the supply chain has matured and Baidu has been able to spread the cost of developing and updating its technology over more vehicles. Last year General Motors, an American carmaker, suspended operations at Cruise, its robotaxi business, after one of its cars injured a pedestrian in San Francisco, leading California to revoke its licence to operate in the state. On July 23rd it said it would relaunch the service in Dallas, Houston and Phoenix, but with a human supervisor in the vehicle. That same day Tesla, America’s electric-vehicle giant, said it would push back the unveiling of its robotaxi from August to October. In May China’s government offered to let the company test its service in the country. If it does, expect more hand-wringing from China’s taxi drivers.

China creates its own money and controls its credit system. It’s also invested in modernizing its high-speed railroads, modernizing its communication system, modernizing its cities, and above all its electronic internet system used for monetary payments. China has liberated itself from debt dependency on the West – and in the process, made the West dependent on it.  This could only have been done by government investment and regulation under a long-term plan. The Western financial model lives in the short run. If you’re going to allocate credit and resources to make fortunes by living in the short run by taking as much as you can as quickly as you can, you will not be able to make the capital investment to develop long-term growth. That’s why American information technology companies have not been able to keep up with their Chinese counterparts. Financialized “market forces” oblige them to use their income for stock buybacks and to pay out of dividends. That is the case with U.S. technology across the board. China’s companies investing in information and internet technology plow their profits back into reinvestment in more research and development. Such innovation has shifted from the West to the East, which has rediscovered the logic of industrial capitalism developed by the 19th century’s classical political economists.

The last time the ‘king of the manufacturing hill’ got knocked off the throne was when the US surpassed the UK just before WW1. It took the US the better part of a century to rise to the top; the China-US switch took about 15 or 20 years. In 2020, China made up a staggering 35% of global gross manufacturing production. That is more than the combined output of the United States (12%), Japan (6%), Germany (4%), India (3%), South Korea (3%), Italy (2%), France (2%), and the United Kingdom. By 2030, the world will only have two industrial sectors, China and the world.

“Raw Dogging” Is The Newest Viral Trend, But It’s Not What You Think

Tales of the sea

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My stomach was removed in 2007 for cancer and I was placed on an anti-cancer pill every day. There is only one pill for my cancer, Gleevec ($144,000 a year in the US for 400 mg a day, when it costs $250 to manufacture a year’s supply in the Swiss corporation’s factory in India — the pharmaceutical manufacturer waives the patient 20% copay so as not to jeopardize the insurance coverage 80%.)

One year later, my liver reacted to too much cancer drug at a time by accidental dosing error and my liver started dying. The doctors immediately stopped the cancer medicine and gave me the steroid prednisone for a month to calm down the liver inflammation. The doctors said I couldn’t take the drug anymore due to the drug now being toxic to my liver.

I asked, so now what happens? The doctors said, your cancer comes back and then we cut it out a second time. I asked, what then? The doctors said, the cancer comes back a third time only quicker, and we cut it out a third time. I asked, how long can this go on? The doctors said, about six times then you’re dead, probably in about five years from now.

So, logically, I asked, what about a solution to the liver toxicity — is there a work-around? The doctors said, we don’t know. I asked, will you think about it? The doctors said, no.

I was puzzled. I told the doctors I was a lawyer and anyone who came to me with a problem, I immediately started thinking about how to solve the problem. So I asked the doctors, why do you say you won’t think about my problem? The doctors said, we’re too busy with regular problems.

The cancer tumor returned in three years in 2011. I met with the doctors to plan the second surgery and asked the same questions again, and got the same answer: no, we’re too busy to think about how to get your liver to accept the cancer medicine again.

After the surgery in 2011, the cancer returned in 2012. I met with the doctors to plan the surgery and asked the same questions and got the same answers. So I told the doctors, “time out” — I’ll go on the Internet on PubMed and google “Gleevec liver toxicity” and get back to you.

In about five minutes, I found a solution by a doctor in Milan Italy while no doctor in America had any idea. The solution was to co-administer prednisone with Gleevec like a fireman with a hose entering a burning room. I compiled the science, printed it out, and told my doctors, give me $6 worth of prednisone a month and coadminister it with the Gleevec. The doctors said, we can’t do that: prednisone is a steroid and it will make you manic. Puzzled, I asked the doctors, so your plan is “I’m dead”? The doctors looked puzzled and then said, okay, let’s try it.

I took prednisone and Gleevec daily for 2–3 months before the surgery after baseline imaging showed a 27 cm^3 tumor while my liver proteins remained stable. Then the surgeon in late 2012 cut out a 3 cm^3 shrunken tumor and inside the tumor was very dead cancer cells. The surgeon said, I’ve never seen deader cancer cells. One month later, I stopped the prednisone and have had no liver issues since.

I haven’t sued but I always make sure everyone on the medical staff recalls why I’m still showing up for MRI scans, lab work, and consult visits.

  1. Class’ over ‘Swag’.
  2. Never be the first one to punch. But make sure you break a jaw or two when the fistfight starts.
  3. Stop pursuing her after a NO. No chases, or stalking, or messaging, or trying again and again.
  4. Learn to say NO. Whether it is the boss at office, or a girl at a bar.
  5. Know your cologne or deo well, and stick with them. Avoid flower fragrances and chocolate.
  6. Every once in a while, when you face a situation which forces you to come out of your comfort shell— say “F*ck it!” and do it anyway.
  7. Scour the Internet and look for hair & beard styles that agree with your face type.
  8. Once you find a gifted barber, stick with him. He knows your hair & beard better than your girlfriend.
  9. Career = Relationship = Family = Yourself; make time for all and don’t ignore any of them.
  10. Writing is the best meditation.

Extra perk : Avoid smoking at all cost. Others might find it cool, but honestly, cancer sucks.

About 20 years ago, my Jeep was stolen from in front of my building. I immediately made a report and called my insurance company because I knew I would never get it back. One other thing I did was change the message on my voicemail to tell the caller that if the call was in regards to my jeep, to please leave a message where it was and I would pick it up, no questions asked.

About a week later, I got a very cryptic call with the location of my Jeep and immediately headed over to see if it was there, and sure enough, it was. As I stood there next to it, I called the police and told them I was standing next to my Jeep and I would be recovering it. I was told to stay where I was and someone would be with me ASAP.

It took 45 minutes and 4 calls to the station, but I finally had a police officer show up. He took my info, checked the registration to ensure the Jeep was mine, and told me I could take it home.

What was so ridiculous about the entire theft was that the only thing they took two things. One was my soft top and doors. It was an aftermarket roof and doors, and without the hardware, I had installed when I put it on, it was absolutely useless! So basically, they had risked a felony for a top that was worth $400, and in the end, they couldn’t use LOL

FYI, it would have taken them just 2 minutes to stip off the roof and not risked a felony.

The other was my license plate. I was contacted 2 years later about a bank robbery because they had used my plates on the getaway car. It wasn’t that they thought I had committed the crime, it was just to see if I had any idea about who had stolen my jeep in the first place. Had they printed my Jeep at the time, they would have actually had a lead but they don’t waste their time on things like that for simple auto theft.

My best friend since 3rd grade was sucker-punched by some punk outside a bar on pearl street in Boulder, CO back when we were in college at CU. The punch cut my friend’s head and drew blood. My friend was disoriented and attempted to retaliate but was not able to do so with the crowd of people trying to break it up. I was in a sling from a torn pec injury so I kept my distance from the commotion. However, I noticed the punk who sucker-punched my friend trying to slowly disappear from the scene. He backed away then he started running away. I followed.

He ran pretty fast for about 4 blocks to the south back towards campus before his run turned into a jog, I continued to follow from a distance. Then a couple blocks later, once he thought he was in the clear, he started walking. This is when I made my move. I quietly approached him from behind and quickly picked him up and put him in a firemen’s carry with my healthy arm/shoulder. (he was no more than 160 lbs, maybe 5′9″ and at the time I was pushing 280 lbs and pretty fit despite my injury as I was playing DT for the Buffs so this little punk was pretty easy to manhandle even with only one healthy arm)

I said, “I got you mother fucker.” He squirmed like a little bitch begging and pleading to let him go. I said, “you’re going to jail for assaulting my friend.” It was quite the amusing walk back towards the scene with him over my shoulder as the scene was now filled with a number of Boulder Police. As he saw the police lights his squirming got worse, he started punching and kicking and he even offered me money to let him go.

I walked up to the scene with him on my shoulders, walked right into the middle of a bunch of policemen and women standing in a circle and placed him down in the middle and said “officers, this is the guy you are looking for, he is the one that started this whole thing by sucker-punching my friend” My best friend was standing there with a face covered in blood as they asked him if this was the guy. He said “yes” and they cuffed him and took him to jail.

I guess the whole thing started because my friend was wearing a Yankee’s hat and the punk was running his mouth, something about baseball. (he must have been a Red Sox fan?) My friend’s cut on his head was pretty bad, he had to go to the ER so we all were glad justice was served to that punk!

I’m a 10 years CCP member, I don’t feel much different from normal Chinese people. The major differences are:

  1. Party membership dues are 2% of my salary.
  2. Every half year, we need to write a short summary about our political thought. Such as what we have learnt from recent political events, do we have new understanding about Communist.
  3. Criticism and self-criticism. We will organize some offline sync, to discuss about Socialism, Communist and Capitalism; and refresh our understanding.

Basically I’m proud to be a member of CCP. I think most members are nice people, and open minded.

Mine was two things, bam bam, back to back.

We had a mid-size company, and I was running the small factory building pallets. Not very sexy, but it’s a commodity the world needs. I had brought on a co-op student from the local university over the summer, kind of a fresh-eyes approach, getting a smart kid to hang around for a few weeks on the cheap. So we talked and explored some ideas and measured some things, had regular ongoing conversations. And then he developed this program using Mini-Tab (showing my age) and it showed how we could lay out a super-efficient way to build the pallets; it divided up the work into this aspect that went slowly and this part that went quicker. We could flex the crew to have more people on the slow tasks and fewer people on the quick tasks, and overall the throughput was much higher, like 25% faster. I showed my boss and I was so impressed with all the little red dots flowing through the schematic and watching the numbers tick up, I was so happy….and then he said “if there was a smarter way to build pallets, I’d have discovered it already.” Ouch. Take all your fancy education and go sit down.

Same boss, same day, right after that sentence, he said he wants to review last month’s numbers. We covered all the regular P&L items, spends and expenses and yadda-yadda, and then we got to the bottom of the page. This is the line item where the plant’s profit is listed, and is where my bonus is. Literally, my bonus was a percentage of the profitability for the month. It showed zero. The plant profitability added up to being positive (and above budget I may add) but then there was a negative amount to cancel it out, and my bonus was zero. I had never seen a zero before, maybe I’m reading this wrong? “No, that’s correct. See there’s this other plant in another state, and they got in trouble. They were fudging their numbers and overstating deliveries to the customer. So overall the corporation got our wrist slapped and we agreed to zero out the profits in order to pay back the customer.” “My plant?” “No, this other one.” “Then why is my plant zero?” “The corporation agreed to take everyone’s profits as payback to the customer.” “So where’s my bonus?” “Well you get a percentage of course, and a percentage of zero is zero, so there’s no bonus.” “Oh no, wait a minute; you’re telling me that my kids eat less because somebody else cheated? You are literally taking food off my table because of some other guy? And that guy (whom I knew) still has a job here?”

I’ve had enough; I quit.

It’s amazing how people can twist the reality 180 degrees.

Name ONE major on-going conflict without the US standing behind, please.

  • Gaza Genocide, directly supported by the US
  • Russia-Ukraine conflict, directly supported by the US
  • China-Philippines SCS conflict, directly supported by the US
  • Taiwan Strait issue, directly supported and manipulated by the US
  • EU, directly manipulated by the US
  • Every coup in South America, directly supported by CIA.

The US has been trying to drag China into the same arms race as in the previous cold war against USSR, and hope China to fall into the same trap as USSR did.

The US has passed 11 anti-China acts within 24 hours.

Do you see China doing the same?

Then from where did you get the conclusion that China is becoming more aggressive?

Men Are ‘Raw Dogging’ On Airplanes

The rich kids of Syracuse

When I attended university it was a new experience for me. I moved from a small town, rural environment outside of Pittsburgh (coal mining country, next to the smoky steel mills of Pittsburgh) to the educational enclave of the ultra wealthy. I had all kinds of experiences…

…and due to my age and lack of experience in all these matters, lost out on many fun and exciting experiences as well. Shit! I could have really gotten a hundred girlfriends if my head was pointed in that direction.

It was a different time, and my “head space” was somewhere else.

Ah, but I digress.

Today, I want to talk about something that I have never mentioned to anyone before.

There were a lot of very, very, VERY wealthy kids that attended college with me.

Oh, sure there were the rich kids from the East Coast.Preppies, and the sons and daughters of the Jewish elite. The Jewish girls… well, we referred to them as JAPS. (Jewish American Princesses).

They were something else.

And the guys, the Preppies; those elitists… I had never encountered such folk before. But their snotty noses were so high in the air that it nauseated me.

But I am not talking about the preppy kids. No. I am talking about the “foreign students” from Africa, and the Middle East.

They all came from not only wealthy families, but presidential families. their parents ruled those African nations.

Heirs to Kingdoms, to presidential palaces; and wads and wads of cash.

Their parents insisted that they get STEM degrees. And so they attended school with me and many were in my classes.

Oh, often they would ask me to go out with them. And I did go sometimes. We had a blast at the disco, and the bars. They were all a rowdy group. There were different groups of friends. And I liked them all, but the only guy that I really spent a lot of time with was Samir from Syria.

He was a quiet fellow and we would study together at night when I wasn’t with Pete and Jay my regular “crew”. The rest were just twilight friends. Meaning Not yet good friends, but more than just an acquaintance.

It was years ago.

My one friend, we worked together on a science project to boil away water out of maple syrup though pressure instead of heat, actually became the ruler of (his African nation) for a spell. (I won’t list the name for his privacy.)

I was pleasantly surprised. I mean…WOW!

Being a king is good
Being a king is good

Another, a guy that we used to go to discos with, was one of the many “princes” of Saudi Arabia. Yet another was quite the “playboy” in Libya. Being so connected.

There was a cluster of perhaps six that were rotating in and out of my classes, with another four, perhaps that orbiting.

I wonder what my life would have evolved into if I focused on maintaining  friends with these folk back in the 1980’s and how my life trajectory would change… who knows..?

What could have been
What could have been

… I do muse about that from time to time.

Don’t you know.

Today…

The biggest culture shock I ever lived was in Texas. I was arrested, Starsky-and-Hutch style, and jailed, basically for excessive speed.

I was on a visit at Texas A&M University at College Station, when friends from Dallas (ca. 180 miles = 300 km north) invited me for the Easter weekend. On the I-45 motorway, I drove at 80-90 mph, so as to alleviate the boredom from the long and monotonous route. I was aware of the speed limit at 75 mph, but I felt safe as most drivers did the same, and some drove even faster.

As I was getting close to Dallas, I noticed a police car behind me, with its red lights on. Based on the way the police behave in most countries, I took this for a request to make way. So I pulled over to the right lane and slowed down a little; and I didn’t bother more about it. Then, I noticed the police were still there, but I didn’t understand what was going on. I guessed they were after somebody, but did not figure out it was me: on the one hand, I wasn’t driving faster than most people around; on the other hand, I never thought they would quietly stay behind me if they wanted me to stop — my generation wasn’t addicted to U.S. series. Our home-grown cops order drivers to stop, not by staying behind them, but by moving to their left and signalling with the right arm. I was beginning to find the situation weird, when another police car came to my left, and a policeman signalled me to stop. I immediately did.

Then the big show began. The policemen yelled at me to get out of the car and put my hands on it. One was pointing a gun at me. I complied; they frisked and handcuffed me. They asked me why I hadn’t stopped at once; I answered that I had not understood. At first they obviously didn’t believe me, but I explained that the practice is different in my country. They insisted that I had no valid driver’s licence, as I didn’t possess a Texan one. However, I showed them both my French licence and an International Driving Permit, which is recognised in Texas. I had purposely fetched it at my prefecture before leaving France.

I felt eerie, as though I had gone out of my body, and watched myself caught in a cheesy crime TV series. Without subtitles: my command of spoken English is sufficient for daily communication but, well, not perfect. Broad Texan shouted at machine-gun speed, with a twang as thick as guacamole, is a bit of a challenge for me.

Progressively, I figured out the situation. Those who had chased me first were from Ellis County, and the one who had signalled me to stop was from Dallas County. I had crossed a county line, so the Ellis policemen had to request the help of the Dallas police. I had made them look like fools before their colleagues, so they were quite upset. But my crossing the county line also qualified as “evading arrest”, and evading arrest in a motor vehicle is a felony in Texas law. The Ellis County policemen called their superiors; after a one-hour wait in their car, still handcuffed, I learned that I was going to be taken to jail. The cheesy HBO nightmare was going on.

So I was introduced to the Ellis County jail in Waxahachie, Texas. The inner child thought: “What a name! Sounds like the chant of the Indian warrior, after he has captured the white guy who ventured too far, and tied him to the torture post”. My adult self added: “They have killed and removed the Indians, but they have kept the tortures”.

The prison personnel seemed surprised to see someone jailed for an offence he did not knowingly commit. They even said the charges should be dropped, as I did not know the custom and had never been arrested before. But, anyway, the sheriff had ordered to jail me, so they had to accommodate me. The check-in formalities are surprising. For instance the disinfection shower: you undress, a guy comes with a big sprayer like those used in vineyards, and sprays the cold stinking disinfectant on you, first front, then rear. You put on a heavy brownish overall. If you ask for reading material, they give you a Bible, a special edition with a foreword saying that God forgives even the worst offenders. Why not? This was Good Friday, after all. I read all of St Matthew and half of St John during my stay.

It was time to proceed to the detention room. I was quite anxious, expecting to spend the night in a cell with a few hardened felons, and wondering how they would deal with me. Fortunately, petty offenders are kept in large dormitories of 40-odd beds, with a TV set, tables… and a jailer staying in all the time. No way to pick on anybody when 40 witnesses and an armed guard are present.

I won’t say it was a pleasant time, but it was interesting. There was the local drug pusher, locked up without bail until his judgment: he was accused of “destroying evidence”, because he was cleaning his weed pipe when he was arrested. There was the blockhead who had tried to steal the sheriff’s own bathtub. Everybody was baffled by my story; Hispanic people were surprised to see a blue-eyed and fair-haired guy so ignorant of Anglo-Saxon habits and culture.

People had a deck of cards, they asked if I would play with them. I tried to teach them belote; obviously it was too tricky… I was asked many interesting questions: Do you have McDonald’s in France? Do you have Twinkies? This one puzzled me: I didn’t know the stuff. They offered me one! Let me thank them: the “official” meal that came on the morning was the most disgusting of my whole life. As they had taken all my money from me, I only had the normal prison grub, while the inmates could buy crisps, sweets and cakes. The drug pusher — a smart guy, actually — explained to me that the whole prison system was geared toward extracting as much money as possible from the inmates. A shocking revelation.

There came the curfew; I had to find a bed. To my surprise, I realised that the dorm was neatly divided: the whites on the left, the blacks on the right. And the only place left was in the black section. Just below me was, say, the kingpin. During hours and hours, he kept talking to his visibly sycophantic neighbours, yelling “wawawawaw Nig**r… wawawawaw Bro”. I just could catch those two words. Once he turned to me and, switching to more standard English, ironically commented “This is a f**king professor at A&M…” before returning to his mumbo-jumbo. Was the irony directed at me, or at the system that had put me there? I didn’t get it. Frankly, I would rather have slept, but I found it ill-advised to complain about the loud neighbourhood.

The next morning, I was called to arraignment. Of course, I didn’t know the word; I drew a smile from the jailer by ingenuously asking: “who is Raymond?” A judge first lectured me in legal gobbledegook, I panicked as I just could catch one word now and then. He explained to me again in plain English: the case was not dropped, but I could be released if I paid a sum of money. The jailer who had accompanied me expressed again his surprise that the charges had not been dropped. I could call my friends from Dallas, they undertook the formalities for my release. Together we discovered the fantastic world of bail bond agencies, roamed the county to find the pound where my car had been taken (no one had told me about its whereabouts)… One of their neighbours gave me the business card of a lawyer.

I flew back to France as soon as I could, shivering with the fear that one could detain me. The judicial process ran its course. The grand jury did not dismiss the case, but finally my lawyer negotiated the re-qualification. The “evading arrest” charge was dropped. I was fined twice, once for excessive speed, once for “failure to give right of way”. The total cost of this fine little joke (bail deposit + car pound + lawyer fees + fines) was almost $10,000.

I never came back to the US. In the form that must be filled to obtain the “visa waiver” (actually, almost as complicated as the visa was), there is one question: “Have you ever been arrested or detained in the U.S.?” I can’t even think of that.

Edit:

  1. More than 1,400 upvotes in 24 hours! Many thanks. I hadn’t expected this would be my most successful answer so far.
  2. I’ll disable the comment function for some time, as answering all your kind support messages, witty comments and useful advice has become a bit time-consuming.
  3. Double-thanks to the many Texans, and Americans, who have expressed their kind sympathy, and said they were sorry. Don’t worry: I have met lots of nice Americans and Texans, and I don’t have a bad memory of you as a people. This is a typical power-abuse story, within a police and justice and correctional system which have turned to soulless and heartless cash machines. Most often at the expense of people who can’t afford it, unlike me.

Ironically for disaster tourism.

They’re told China is a hellhole where everybody gets a bowl of rice every month.

Everybody has a gun to their head.

So? They think they can go there and lorde it over local people.

Anybody old will remember the first MIB film. The woman there says she’ll go to Cambodia and pay $1 for a lobster dinner.

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main qimg bc3220b598021315689e075c518d27d8

They think that China is the poorest country in the world that they can spend $1 a month and live like gods.

Reality disappoints them, while China is cheaper than their home countries due to actually not allowing bankers to control the economy and rampant inflation. The living standard is pretty good.

It’s funny because many who think that way return and claim POTEMKIN VILLAGE!

The high speed railway is fake!

Everyone they met was a paid actor with families held hostage.

You’d be surprised just how many people I met like that on my travels in and out of Hong Kong over the past 20 years…

On the other hand, you get normal curious people who want to see what the world is like elsewhere.

Geopolitical and economic turmoil w/ Martin Armstrong

Inspirations for my art

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I met this guy in prison that had been locked up for over 10-years. He was a hard core gang member.

The first time that I saw him, I didn’t like him. Actually, I know this is wrong, but I sort of hated him. The guy intimidated me just by being there. He was one of those guys that you look at and wonder how many people he has killed.

Anyway,he turned out to be a decent man. This individual shook my hand one day, and asked me if I was in a gang. Inside I’m wondering whether or not I should seek help. That’s how scary this guy looked.

We talked for a while and the conversation was nothing like I expected. This man told me that he was doing a 25-year sentence because he killed his cousin after coming home to find him in bed with his spouse. It was considered a crime of passion. He said that he regretted doing this because it haunts him every single day.

He took a class in prison so that he wouldn’t be on the system as a verified gang member.

I started opening up to my new friend, he laced me up about who I should stay away from, and he said “you’re going to be tested over and over again. You should learn how to discipline yourself by walking away from confrontations. It will be hard at first,and you will feel a little angry, but proving yourself in this place is going to be nothing but a freak show for most of these guys. You’re going to satisfy their cravings for violence but in the end you will lose whether you win the fight or not. Think of every single one of these guys as if they were your brothers.”

I didn’t really agree with this guy but later on, whenever I started feeling anger towards certain individuals, I thought of them as my brother, Mark. I saw some kind of characteristic of my brother in some of these guys. This made me realize what this man was talking about. There were times that I felt like pummeling some of these inmates, but I just imagined the same thing happening to my baby brother, and this totally made me forget my anger.

I stayed case free for the whole three years that I was in prison. It was not easy, but that advice that I received is mostly what saved me from either hurting someone, or getting hurt myself.

Scott Ritter : “They are marking me for death , and that’s something you don’t come back from”

He is correct.

Sadly.

Free speech means nothing.

Sorry, Scott.

MM has made a breakthrough in art style

Here’s some of my works from today.

Some have some very strong imperfections, but the style and the composition is much more to my liking. In fact, I believe that I made a “breakthrough” in how I approach the AI generation scheme. It’s really on another level.

I am kind of proud of my efforts.

No.

I take that back.

Of course there are a lot of nudes, as this is a classical style. If you faint when you go into museums and history class, then skip this part. Nudes are a serious part of the classical art scene. As “real” art transcends social limitations.

Otherwise enjoy.

I think that I am finally making some progress on facial expressions and composition. There’s a minimum of skin exposure, and the atmosphere is seductive; meaning that the mind searches for meaning.

And this first picture illustrates that …

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(26)

This next one.

A little bit better dressed, but I am not a fan of the blue and red dress combinations with gold. I would prefer whites or off-whites. Maybe a nice white blouse on a off-yellow top, with a embroidered lace camisole.

But still, this picture has a something

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(28)

A “something”.

I don’t know what. I cannot quantify it.

This is better. Maybe the best. Really. I love so much about this picture. The way the rain glistens on the chest. The expressions on the face. The dramatic movement. The carefully placed clothing. The BEST.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(27)

It is a winner.

Now, here’s another “contender”.

I really love the expressions.

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@@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(24)

Same, but more subtle.

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Better clothed, I think.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(24)

Too relaxed. Not so dynamic.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(21)

A true party.

Four female Goddesses of the wine.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(23)

I kind of like this.

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All clothed. Has some elements that I really like.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(21)

This is racy, but really nice.

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(18)

More lustful. I enjoy this one. Really lustful and sensuous.  It appeals to me, but it’s not something that would be found over a fireplace in a living room.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(18)

Same but a modified style.

Now, this is something.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)

Along the same lines.

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(15)

This is pretty good, but not yet on the right scale…

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)

Ah. He had a bit too much to drink.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)

Ah, but he’s up now.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(13)

Ready for more.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(13)

They implore him… more, more… more.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(12)

Nice color mix.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(10)

Oh come on. We want you to play with us…

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(10)

With wine, nothing else matters.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(8)

Let me be. It’s all wonderful.

The woman (you know who) is experiencing “rapture”. The others sense it and go along “for the ride”.

A true classic. And I KNOW that I am on the right track.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(8)

Do you want some?

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(7)

I really like this one. It’s passed the appreciation threshold.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(7)

Ready for the night.

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)

And all in the nude.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1

In 2007, I was thrown in prison while filming a documentary in Zimbabwe. At that time I was profiling Betty Makoni and her work to help girls who had been raped and abused, by men who were counseled that if they raped a virgin they would cure their AIDS. My assistant at that time, Lauren Carara and I were in Zim to shed light on the issue that “Traditional Healers” were counseling men with to do this. The idea was that the blood of a virgin would wash away the disease. Crazy, right? You would be amazed at how many countries still teach this.

About 1/2 way through our two weeks there, we were arrested by 15 Central Intelligence Officers (CIO) brandishing Ak47’s and other guns. We ended up being taken to a police station and than taken to their prison. The prison turned out to be one of the worst torture centers in all of Zimbabwe. A decrepit 4 story building with gaping holes in the ceilings and floors-complete with torture rooms and a pool of sulfuric acid where Mugabe’s thugs could toss you in without a trace. Not even a bone.

I saw a man in a forced sexual situation, a man tortured, I was urinated on, stepped in feces and was told by the U.S. Embassy to get out by the weekend or Lauren and I would be raped or killed.

The prison was a co-ed and overcrowded. There was no food or water. Disease was everywhere. My husband hired human rights lawyers, the U.S. Embassy tried to help. We actually got out of prison with the help of a guy I met on Facebook who turned out to be a reporter in Greece who had a relationship with the CIA. He called his contact who called Zimbabwe on another phone. 10 minutes later the agent comes back and says, “She’s coming out AND she will have her film. ” When we got deported, I clutched that film to my side and flew home. This story is documented in “Tapestries of Hope” a documentary that originally aired on SHOWTIME. Currently you can also see the movie on NETFLIX and Amazon. Everyday I am grateful for still being alive.

For russia, it’s simple. Right next door and too damn big to fix.

In other words, a clear and present threat that will not go away.

Chechnya, Georgia and crimea were all attempts at fracturing the Russian state. The enlargement of Nato, pushing all the way into Ukraine was to force Russia into a cul de sac, so that the economic and military might of the collective west can be brought to bear, through fair means or foul.

Russia was never going to be part of “Europe”, despite having the largest piece of Europe.

Yes, there is a long history behind the state of affairs, but my shifu was prescient.

“Europe” isn’t Europe, and naked prejudice is why a major war will likely break out.

As for China, too many industrious people making things the west want, leading to a balance of payment problem.

This was exactly what led to the opium wars, because the brits and later the Americans, hit on the brilliant idea to substitute opium for silver to pay for sought after porcelain (China), tea and silk.

Now we are seeing a repeat with the economic suppression and demonization within a larger, developing trade war.

It boils down to the maintenance of primacy and hegemony.

A few years ago, I was flying alone in first class with American Airlines. I purchased the ticket months in advance and, like always if possible, had selected an aisle seat in the back row. I printed out my boarding pass when I checked in 24 hours before the flight and confirmed my seat’s location at the back of the First Class compartment.

Flight day. They called us up to board. I was one of the last in the first class passengers line. When I held my boarding pass up to the scanner, it made a “bonk” noise. The gate attendant asked to see my boarding pass. I showed it to him, and he said something like, “Oh yes. Just one moment,” and printed out a new one, keeping the old one. I used the new one and went right through. I didn’t bother to look at it as I already knew my seat number and location.

When I boarded the plane, there was a woman in my seat. I said something like, “Excuse me, I think this is my seat.” She said “No, it’s mine” or something like that. She was seated next to a man who appeared to be her husband or boyfriend, who also joined in that this was her seat. The Flight Attendant came over, looked at my boarding pass and said, “No, your seat’s right there,” pointing at the first row, The woman in my seat and her dude nodded with grins on their faces like, “Told you, stupid.” I didn’t say anything. I just took the seat.

So somehow my seat was given away without my permission to this lady so she and her man could sit together, and I had been switched to the bulkhead seat without anyone bothering to tell me. I always avoid the bulkhead seats because you have to put all of your bags overhead as there is no seat in front of you to stow your bag under. I thought it was kind a a shitty thing to do and to not even mention it to me. Obviously, the Gate Attendant knew because he switched out the boarding pass. Frankly, if they had just explained the situation to me ahead of time, I would have agreed to switch seats even though I don’t like the bulkhead. But instead, the airline let me embarrass myself and snarky Suzy and her dude got to feel like they had put one over on me. Thanks, AA.

Ex Military Man Dies; Shown The Afterlife And Told Why We Come Here (NDE)

Amazing Cowboy, Indian and Trapper Art

A collection of some amazing art here.

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Well, to start with, they only drank mead and ale, and maybe wine if they went far enough south to get any. They didn’t have distillation. Also, drinking brewed drinks was much safer than drinking water, because they had been heated. Bad drinking water was the scourge of the medieval period; even kings died of dysentery.

As for the meat—the modern nutritionists and vegetarians have managed to convince us that meat is somehow bad for us. It’s not. The Arctic peoples eat almost nothing but meat, or did until the 20th century. People who work hard need protein to build muscle. They need calories, and fat is a good place to get them. The Vikings rowed their boats far up rivers and across oceans when the wind would not serve. Protein and fat were exactly what they needed.

Also, don’t get the idea that they were chowing down on big steaks every night. They had cattle, but they needed them mostly for milk, which they could make into cheese that could keep through the winter. Their other source of red meat was reindeer, but reindeer aren’t like beef cattle; they don’t have a ton of meat on them. The Vikings relied heavily on smoked and dried reindeer meat, smoked and dried fish, cheese, and rye crispbread. (Being dry, it doesn’t mold.)

A modern nutritionist would freak out if you adopted a Viking diet, but it makes sense if you also adopt a Viking way of life: hard physical labor every day, women as well as men.

WAR OF THE WORLDS (2005) MOVIE REACTION – THIS WAS INTENSE! – FIRST TIME WATCHING – REVIEW

A Tale of Opposites

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Cassidy Caldwell

Deep in the darkest corner of space lived a pair. They lived together on the planet of Lenunculus, a silly place full of creatures of every kind. The pair, however, were opposites of each other in every way.Weesnorp was mountains tall, with wide wonderful eyes. He had feet the size of a football field, and could run miles in a single step. His body was covered in pom-pom ball fur, with more colors than the human eye can see. Despite his larger-than-life appearance, Weesnorp had the voice of a mouse. No one could hear what he was saying, even if they were standing directly at his football field feet.Parvus, on the other hand, was smaller than a peanut. If a human were to look at him properly, they would require a magnifying glass of some sort. His eyes were covered by long, dangling black hair that went down to his feet. All that was visible on his body was one large, pointy, purple, round nose. In every way that Weesnorp was quiet, Parvus was loud. His voice could be heard on the other side of the planet at half its volume. Attempts to whisper meant whole towns heard his cry.As Parvus was too small to live safely on the planet, Weesnorp allowed him to live peacefully on his broad shoulder. In return for his kindness, Parvus would call out to those below on behalf of Weesnorp. The two appeared perfect together, and would spend years and years at times without an argument of any sort. One day, though, Weesnorp and Parvus quarreled so furiously that their lives were changed forever…Weesnorp was talking to his faithful companion when another creature crossed his path. His name was Amasius, and he was the most beautiful creature Weesnorp had ever seen. He had shimmering locks of blonde hair, with piercing orange eyes that shined against his darker skin. Amasius was the second tallest creature on the planet, so he was the closest to reaching the mighty height of Weesnorp. Weesnorp fell in love at first sight.“Parvus,” said Weesnorp. “Do you see that lovely creature yonder?”“Indeed,” Parvus whispered to his best ability.

“Might you talk to him for me? I would tell you what to say, but I cannot find the words,” Weesnorp pleaded. “The creature cannot see you – it would be as though I am talking through you. My lips can match your speech!”

Parvus was pleased at this request. He often found himself to take pride in his own matchmaking abilities. “Very well, my good friend. I will do all that I can. You there!” He raised his voice a bit to get the attention of Amasius.

He was successful. “Yes?” Amasius answered, his voice deep and soothing.

“Are you from these regions?”

“Alas, no.” A hint of sorrow grew behind the dazzling eyes of Amasius. “I am from the far regions of the mountains. A large storm blew across my home, and I am here to find the necessary supplies rebuild it.”

At the sound of this, Parvus had an idea. “Might I help you with this endeavor, friend? I am quite tall. You can hand me the supplies, and I can use my height to reach your homeland on the mountaintops.”

Amasius cheered at this. “You are kind, sir! My name is Amasius. What might I call you?”

“Weesnorp,” Parvus answered.

“How wonderful. Thank you so kindly so your help. The supplies should be this way…”

The two followed Amasius to a forest where they could collect wood to build his home. Parvus spoke on behalf of Weesnorp, telling great tales of his friend’s many talents and marvelous abilities. Amasius was very impressed, and began to grow more and more fond of him as they walked. When they arrived, Weesnorp used his great strength to pluck the large trees from the ground, carrying a dozen in his arms all at once to bring to the mountains. They made their way to the spot Amasius wished, and Weesnorp set to constructing the home above the clouds, where he could see. Amasius spoke to him as he built:

“Weesnorp, would you care for some ungula to eat as you work? I have just caught some, and would gladly prepare it for you. It is a small gift of thanks.”

Weesnorp tensed. He could not eat ungula. It caused him great pain. To his disbelief, though, Parvus responded by saying he would gladly eat it.

He spoke to Parvus in his most powerful voice: “Parvus, I cannot eat that. It makes me sick!”

Without knowing that Weesnorp was speaking, Amasius tried speaking to him, asking, “Would you like a large portion of it? I have plenty, but I know ungula has quite the ability to cause illness. I do not wish you any harm!”

Parvus responded to Weesnorp: “It does not make you sick! You are a liar!”

Amasius was taken aback. The voice of Parvus was so loud that he believed Weesnorp was speaking to him. He could not hear the real voice of Weesnorp. “I am terribly sorry to insult you, friend, but I am well practiced in the ways of preparing ungula. My people have eaten it for centuries. I do not think I am mistaken.”

The two could not hear the cries of Amasius, as Weesnorp was so entangled in his own anger. Weesnorp retorted at Parvus: “I am no such thing! I am an honest creature, and I say that my abilities are greatly hindered when I eat ungula! You must believe me!”

Parvus had completely forgotten about Amasius, and turned his attention completely to Weesnorp. “I do not believe a word you say!” he challenged. “Your abilities do not serve much good, with or without ungula!” His voice was rising in volume as he argued further.

At this, Amasius was wholeheartedly offended. “How dare you insult my wisdom! I am a prudentia, a species of great power and knowledge! My people have studied ungula for centuries, and I am mightier than you could ever imagine!”

His cries were no use. He could not break the argument between Weesnorp and Parvus, and the two continued to bicker. “My abilities lack? No, Parvus. It is you who do not serve much good! You could not walk two steps without being crushed by a creature of larger stature! You are nothing without me.”

This was all Parvus needed. His tiny body swelled with anger, filling his lungs with as much breath as he could hold. He yelled with all his strength:

“NO! YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT ME!

As he did this, he sent out a large gust of wind across all of Lenunculus. Entire seas became instant tsunamis. Mountains were torn from the land and thrown into the air. Worst of all, Amasius was lifted from the ground and hurled into the farthest reaches of Lenunculus – farther than any creature had ever dared to travel. The planet was turned upside down in a more disastrous manner than it had ever before seen.

To this day, Weesnorp and Parvus continue their mighty battle, ignoring any creature that tries to interrupt them. Winds blow throughout Lenunculus every now and then when Parvus becomes incredibly angry, but none will ever match the magnitude of that fateful day.

This is the incident I regret my whole life .

So a few years back , about 25 girls and 8–9 boys from our village (16-22) years in age have gone to attend our friends wedding jagran to our nearby village . We left in evening in about 5 30 and reached there about 1 hour later . The jagran program was to last till morning 6 30 a.m . It started at around 7 30 pm and all of us were chanting bhajans , dancing , enjoying . But the horrible part comes after 10 30 pm in night after we had our dinner . All of us had some urge to use the bathroom but one girl was in super urge . She asked the someone where was the bathroom but there was no such bathroom as the event was organized in an open land in a village . Hearing this many boys walked a bit and started to urinate on trees , in open without hesitation. By now we girls also have to pee. We saw many other girls there who were in need to use the washroom. At around 11 pm it was uncontrolled as it was November month and in winters you pee more often .

We girls also decided to relieve ourselves in open , we walked a bit trying to search for a scheduled spot and we saw a place with standing water in some vast expense , many girls agreed to urinate in the water as they assumed it to be a water body . We were about 30 – 35 females in urge to pee . One by one we started to pee and others ensuring that no one sees . The sound of urine falling into water was very clear . After we all had done we left that place .

But when in the morning some local villagers went there to get some water for bathing or other household chores they saw that the water had turned yellow . Soon there was a Chios in the village . After the event some girls also went there and realized that it was the pond of village from where villagers used to take water . It was now contaminated , yellow and smelling really bad as it had about 30L of yellow pee floating into it .

I was very embarrassed by my act . I was concerned about the villagers that now they won’t have clean water for at least that day

Gaslighting into insanity

This is a horrible story. You have been warned.

It did not happen to me, but to an acquaintance.

Back in my teens, I used to hang out around a group of older kids. The kind parents and public service announcements label as “the wrong crowd”. I was not part of it per se, but close enough to have the inside scoop.

One of the guys, let’s call him George, was getting a bit too popular and cocky for the taste of his peers. They didn’t like that, so they decided to put him in his place by playing a “prank”.

They thought it would be hilarious to act weirded out at anything George would say, to make him feel odd and abnormal. The idea was to break his self confidence and make him doubt every single thought in his head. It looked a little like this:

George: “This is a cool song”

Peer #1: “Wtf are you talking about George, this is trash”

Peer #2: “Yeah George, you used to have good taste, did you hit your head or something?”

Group: *mocking laughter

or

George: “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

Peer #1: “George, you just had one, why do you want two in a row?”

George: “No I didn’t”

Peer #2: “Yes you did, are you losing your mind?”

Group: “yeah dude, you must be losing it…stop smoking weed”

or simply

George: *exists

Peer #1: “How are you dressing like that George, what the f*ck are you thinking?”

Peer #2: “Yeah dude, did you look in the mirror before leaving the house?”

Everything George said or did, his peer group would react with this:

This
This

On and on it went. A big part of his social interactions, purposely designed to chip away at his self image, little by little, until he started to doubt the validity of his every thought. Add regular drugs, alcohol and plenty of domestic problems, and it’s no wonder what happened next.

George went mad. Literally. He was checked in a mental institute after having a meltdown.

An unfortunate teenager, broken by a dark and twisted “prank” that worked all too well, orchestrated by people who were supposed to be his friends.

I don’t know what happened to him after that. I do know he was never the same. A mind shattered to pieces can’t fully be put back together. Last time I saw him, many years ago, he was not able to string a full sentence together. It’s hard to imagine him living a functional life.

Our need for social acceptance is deeply rooted into our being. Attacking that need by means of collective gaslighting is one of the most sickening, evil things I have ever encountered. I shudder thinking this whole thing came from the minds of teenagers.

The way people treat us is an extension of ourselves. Be careful who you surround yourself with, and be kind to those around you.

HEAVY BLUES • 45 Minutes of Hard Blues Rock Music

Not for everyone, but I know that at least one person will enjoy this.

Dammit Deano you are now a Handsome Man!

My wife and I have four daughters. One shares our DNA and three do not. They came to us in their early teens from severely abusive homes.

Our second daughter, ‘Beth’ had only been us for about three months and was still learning to trust us.

My wife’s mother, Jane, was visiting. At some point, Beth came from her room with her dirty clothes and dumped them on the floor of the laundry room, then started back to her room to bring down her bedding. From the kitchen Jane said something to the tune of, “I hope you’re not going to leave those there!” Beth responded, “It’s none of your business now, is it?”

Before my wife, who was also in the kitchen, could intercede, Jane said, “You better learn some manners if you’re going to be a member of this family, young lady.”

Before Beth could respond, my wife put her arm around her, looked at her mother, and said something akin to, “Mom, Beth doesn’t have to learn one fucking thing to be a member of this family, she already is. There is nothing she can do to change that. Now apologize to my daughter.” I think Beth was caught off guard that she wasn’t the one in trouble and was being stood up for.

To her credit, Jane did apologize. Beth was, at best, lukewarm in accepting it. As far as my wife was concerned, she didn’t need to accept it at all.

I will say it wasn’t Jane’s intent to be nasty. In her mind she was just reinforcing one of the assumed rules of the house. For her it was the kind of thing grandmothers do.

Later that afternoon my wife took her out on the patio for some mother/daughter time. She explained our home ran differently than the home in which she grew up, and no, this wasn’t a criticism of how she was raised. They agreed that it would be best if Jane refrained from parenting our daughters. Jane wasn’t particularly upset and they moved on to other things.

Surprisingly, at least to us, Beth was cordial to Jane at dinner. This was a victory as in those days Beth often held grudges.

DECEASED 1920’s MAN DESCRIBES THE AFTERLIFE

Interesting.

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I had a tomcat called 'pyewacket ' who was a beautifull natured boy, silly funny and got on well with our other 2 cats and all the other cats in the neighborhood, but 6 years ago someone poisoned him, we had to have him put to sleep, this was especially hard because he was only 5 , one sunny summers day I was sitting on the couch thinking about him and how we missed him so, then I thought to myself I wonder if animals pass over to the other side, just then I spied a tiny white feather coming down from the ceiling and settling on my lap, make of that what you will but I'm not a big fan of coincidences , I still have the white feather.

Hello, I am Tibetan. Born in the outskirts of Darjeeling, India and now immigrate to USA.

Should Tibet be apart of China ? Yes. It has been since the old times and we have absorbed most Chinese culture (chop sticks, food, instrument, clothing, language, etc)

Do I seek independence ? Little bit but what will the outcome be if Tibet was independent ? We would probably be invaded by India just like how Sikkim and North East India turned into be. Let me tell I would hate to be apart of India since my last trip to Sikkim. Sikkimese are now second class citizens in their ancestral homeland since Indians breed like rabbits, different race and thinking. We also have racial tensions due to our racist tribalism nature. Also we are mongoloid race and Indians are Dravidians or Aryans so we have nothing in common other than religion or writing. Since the Chinese are Mongoloid race I would rather be apart of them. Seeing Tibet now with devolpment and infrastructure. Many exile unbrainwashed Tibetans would agree with me and go back. The brainwashed tibetans would likely stay in india suffering from racism and living in slums or get their daily paycheck from the corrupt Tibetan government in exile.

Let me tell you I used to be a brainwashed Tibetan listening to these foreign Caucasians and Indians telling me lies about what the Chinese did to Tibet and now I know the truth and I am very angry for them lying to me. Seek the truth.

Today’s MM art

It’s a mixed bag. Lots of nudes, but also many distortions. I’m disappointed.

Many men with woman’s faces, and distortions of various types.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(33)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(33)

Man’s body, woman’s face.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(33)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(33)

Some are fine, but are missing “something”.

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(32)

This turned out… interesting.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(31)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(31)

Same with this one…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(31)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(31)

I do love the expression on the face of Bacchus.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(26)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(26)

Nice, but twins?

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(17)

Messed up female genitalia…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)

Might be more interesting with some nice clothes…

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)
@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)

Now here’s sort of what I am striving for.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)

And this. But there’s a lot that needs to be corrected.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(11)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(11)

Wow. A lot going on here.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(11)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(11)

A winner… almost.

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@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(10)

So so.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(10)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(10)

The spitting of the wine will need to be photoshopped out.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(5)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(4)

Fine.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(3)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(3)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(3)

This is one of the best of the bunch.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(2)

And I do like this one…

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(1)

When my father got Hugh Hefner to lend him the bunny jet to evacuate Vietnamese orphans during the Fall of Saigon.

It was part of “Operation Babylift,” an effort to bring about 2,000 displaced children, most of them orphans, to the US amidst the chaos of the American pullout from Vietnam.

In the 60s, my parents started a nonprofit to support Vietnamese children who were orphaned or affected by the war. My mother travelled there several times during the war and came to know the children, staff, and volunteers of some of the orphanages around the country.

Among the volunteers were US servicemen, one of whom picked out my sister for adoption by my family. I also gained an adopted brother in a similar manner.

Through the nonprofit they started, my mother made hundreds of Vietnamese adoption placements, including several to celebrities. During the late 60s and early 70s they built quite an extensive network around their nonprofit activities.

So when President Ford announced the creation of a special fund to expedite the evacuation and adoption of Vietnamese orphans during the Fall of Saigon, my father called Yul Bryner and got him to prevail on Hef to lend them the bunny jet for Operation Babylift.

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main qimg eba655076c93d7670f24c5180d71349d lq

The operation itself was controversial. There were later claims that some of the children were not actually orphans. My mother had been to the orphanages where many of these children came from. She knew the staff and volunteers who worked there. A mixed race kid like my adopted brother Danny had no future in Vietnam. That is certain.

It was a chaotic time. There was tragedy, too.

The first flight out on Operation Babylift, a C-5 cargo plane, crashed shortly after take-off, killing 78 children and 50 adults of the 300 aboard. My parents knew several of them.

I was a teenager when it happened and got to know some of the survivors, who would come to stay with us and live out the trauma of their ordeal in the aftermath. People we knew gave their lives to bring those children here.

Fifteen years later, my father was on one of the first flights from the US to deliver relief supplies to Lech Walesa and the Solidarity strikers in Gdansk, Poland in 1980. He returned with a new suit he bought in Poland for about $15. He called it his “socialist suit” and he was very proud of it.

Interesting.

But the “scary music” is just plain juvenile.

‘Mean’ Cat That No One Wanted Falls In Love With New Dad

Yes, and the mom—my friend—was there. She had two daughters, three years and five-years old. We were all sitting around at my house and she asked me if I had some paper and crayons, so they could draw some pictures.

Of course I said yes, and set the girls up. A while later the oldest came running up with the youngest right behind her. They were both giggling. The oldest handed me the worst drawing I had ever seen. It was a picture of a—what looked like a girl, with short hair that stuck straight up, weird, crooked, pointy, tooth-like, projections, and tons of black dots all over the face. I thought it was a monster. So I said, “wow, nice monster.” Nope. The little girl said—all proud of herself—to me, “this isn’t a monster. It’s a picture of YOU. You’re UGLY.”

I was mortified. I had struggled my entire teenage years with horrible acne that was a result of kidney problems. Although, at this point I only had the residual scarring. I had always been very self-conscious, but it was hardly noticeable at the time this happened. Regardless, I felt like I had just been kicked in the stomach.

Their mother—my friend—looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “kids are so honest, they just draw what they see”.

Maybe I am just being stupid, but this really hurt my feelings. I kept being nice, but I’m sure she could see the hurt on my face—however, she never acted like it. The visit was over anyway, and she and her spawn left a few minutes later.

I talked to her a few more times. What really ended up being the last straw was when she complained about her oldest daughter’s second grade teacher teaching about dinosaurs. She said that the teacher should NOT be teaching about dinosaurs. “Dinosaurs” she said, “DID NOT EXIST!!!! Dinosaur bones were put there by Satan, trying to TRICK us!!!!!”.

About a year ago, my wife got a phone call STUPIDLY early in the morning. She missed getting the phone in time, but saw what friend it was from, and got in touch with her immediately.

Our friend was incredibly distraught, saying she’d learned she’d married an absolute monster.

My wife and I had been couples-friends with this couple for over fifteen years.

The husband was arrested for crimes against children. Yes, THOSE kinds of crimes against children.

It messes me up to know. I know I just said “we’d been friends for over fifteen years”, but we haven’t lived near each other for a long time. Most of our interactions were incredibly limited to Facebook interactions and a visit to one another’s area once every 4 – 5 years. But still.

It messes us up because you’re SO SURE that you’d know. You think you’re a good judge of character.

My wife is still flabbergasted, to think of it. We agreed that it was so out of nowhere. She told me “Of literally everyone we’ve ever met, if I were being asked to rate how sketchy I thought they were, he wouldn’t have even made the top ten!…”

It’s been so long, and it still messes me up to think about. Why? It’s not like there’s any reason I should have ‘clued in’ that something was going on. There were several people who hung out with him regularly and none of them knew. His brother and parents didn’t know. Hell, HIS OWN WIFE didn’t know—and she’s not a stupid person.

We still beat ourselves up mentally and emotionally, scouring for what potential clues there may have been that we overlooked. But be reasonable: that many people never knew.

But it messes you up. You think that you’d know.

Isn’t it obvious?

The risks are getting rid of the incompetent and the idiots. The future of this country must be premised on having people who can get things done. Protectioinism by tariff shields these incompetent and idiots and hurts severely the consumers. . . and lead only to the deterioration of the economy.

EV is no stranger to the U.S. Our Detriot car makers have been toying with this for decades and in just the last 15 years, we have had hundreds of EV startups – one of which is Tesla leading the way. These startups – with names like Faradays, Lordstown, Fisker, Lucid and Rivian enjoyed and been showered with billions. Yet, the best they have to offer are $45,000 EVs that are more than twice as expensive and not even with quality and features of China’s basic EVs at less than $20,000.

And their excuse is that its unfair trade practice because China provides subsidies?

We have Tesla that set the standard of competition in the Chinese auto market . . . .that should also be allowed to prevail in the U.S. This is how the Chinese EVs evolved and this should be how our U.S. EVs must evolve. European OEMs – specially VW – are doing joint ventures to catch up in the Chinese market and GM and Ford should do the same . . . .or let them perish because they can’t last long anyway with tariff protection.

Life after Death? Communicating with the Other Side

Endsville

Yes. When I was about 8 years old we lived in a house where the back yard was enclosed by a six foot high fence. Our first pet “Tiger” was a cockapoo a cross between a cocker spaniel and a toy poodle. I was there when Tiger was born.

One day my brothers and I were playing, tiger was out side with us, when the neighbor’s German Shepard jumped the fence and attacked Tiger. I grabbed the baseball bat and beat the German Shepard to death. The German Shepard had nearly ripped Tigers rear leg off. We yelled and our parents came out to see what was going on. They loaded up both dogs and took them to the vet. The German Shepard was pronounced dead on arrival. Tiger went into surgery. He was sewn up and bandaged. Several days later he was brought home.

We informed the neighbor about his dog accompanied by a police officer. The neighbor tried to attack me. The police officer held him back.

The neighbor took us to court. The neighbor wanted me punished for brutally beating his dog to death. And he wanted another dog. The judge listened to both sides and then asked the neighbor some questions.

The questions went like this.

Judge: You had a German Shepard?

Neighbor: Yes, and this little brat brutally killed it.

Judge: is there a 6 foot tall fence between your yards?

neighbor: yes.

Judge: was your dog capable of jumping that fence?

Neighbor: I have never seen him do that.

Judge: Is there a gate between the two yards?

Neighbor: No.

Judge: How do you think your dog got into their yard?

Neighbor: well it is possible that my dog jumped the fence.

The judge then asked me some question.

Judge: why did you attack this man’s dog.

Me: The German Shepard jumped the fence and attacked Tiger. We yelled but the dog would not stop. I had the bat in my hands and was not gong to take the chance the dog would kill tiger or attack someone else. I kicked the German Shepard off tiger but he went back. I kicked him again but this time I also hit him with the baseball bat. He kept trying to get at tiger. So I ended it. I hit the German Shepard till it quit moving.

Judge: were you scared?

me: I was. But I was more angry than scared. No one attacks my family. And tiger is family.

Judge: Do you like dogs?

me: yes, very much.

Judge: before this, were you afraid of the German Shepard?

Me: before this, I had never seen the dog. He barked a growled a lot. But he was always on the other side of the fence.

Judge: so you didn’t hate the dog.

me: I didn’t know the dog. Never met him.

The judge feeling he had all of the information needed made his determination. The neighbor was charged with having a vicious dog. Was ordered to pay our vet bill. He was told that if I had not killed the animal it would have been put down as a dangerous animal. After having cleared a 6 foot fence and attacking another’s pet and possibly children playing in the yard. I probably would have done the same thing as this young man. There will be no retaliation of any kind.

Ironically the neighbor got another German Shepard. A puppy. He introduced us to the dog and our dogs got along great. We moved about 6 months later. Tiger had complications from the surgery and started having seizures. My dad was in the navy and we often moved. Tiger was put down about two years later because we could not afford his medical care. I was told by my parents he was sent to a farm. I looked my parents in the eye and said “tiger was in bad shape. If you put him down just say so. Please don’t lie about it.”

When A Killer Has No Idea He’s Being Recorded

The U.S. stock market has plummeted, putting increasing pressure on the Federal Reserve to cut interest rates. The U.S. has lost the financial war. At this moment, China has dealt another heavy blow to the U.S. by reducing its holdings of 228 billion U.S. real estate. Yellen issued a warning that the U.S. debt may face a collapse. Why do we say that the U.S. has lost the financial war? What signal does Yellen’s warning send?

In 2018, the United States unilaterally launched a trade war against China, and then provoked a technology and financial war. Now, the global game between China and the United States has lasted for nearly 7 years. I thought that this confrontation that determines the world pattern would be a slow process. After all, the game between major powers is to see who has better determination. Moreover, the United States has “dollar hegemony” and can collect wealth from various countries by issuing U.S. bonds globally. Relying on U.S. bonds and the dollar, the United States has successfully survived many financial crises. But this time, the United States took the initiative to provoke a financial war against China, and they themselves were the losers. Federal Reserve Chairman Powell made it clear that interest rates may be cut in September. Obviously, the United States can no longer withstand the financial war.



There is a saying about the Sino-US financial war: “hypertension vs. hypoglycemia”. From the perspective of the United States, they are facing high inflation that has been slow to be curbed, huge debts, and high interest rates caused by multiple aggressive interest rate hikes. Although China is the world’s largest manufacturing country, its consumption power is not as good as that of the United States, the world’s largest consumer of goods. In other words, China has goods but lacks money, while the United States has money but lacks goods. The essence of the Sino-US financial war is that the United States wants to harvest China through aggressive interest rate hikes. While China is improving its financial defenses, it is waiting for the United States to be dragged down by its own debts.



But in this process, the United States made two fatal mistakes.

First, the United States forgot the fact that “finance is a derivative of trade.” Although the United States has dollar hegemony, China has the most complete manufacturing sector in the world, which makes it have a long-term trade surplus and has $3 trillion in reserves. Therefore, the United States can hardly influence China’s exchange rate;

Secondly, the United States has never considered that its aggressive interest rate hike strategy will push its allies into a dead end and eventually force them to “turn against the United States.” According to 环球网_全球生活新门户_环球时报旗下网站, Japan has already started to raise interest rates on the yen, which is a dead end for the United States. Previously, due to the high interest rates in the United States, many international investors borrowed yen at ultra-low interest rates and then converted them into dollars to buy U.S. bonds. Now, the Federal Reserve has just released a signal of interest rate cuts, and Japan has immediately raised interest rates, which will trigger investors to transfer assets from the United States to Japan. In other words, Japan has implemented a reverse “harvest” on the United States.



It is worth mentioning that as early as two months ago, US Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said that maintaining high interest rates may put US debt at risk of collapse. But Yellen did not expect that what happened later would be more serious than she expected. On Monday, US stocks suffered a sharp drop at the opening, with technology stocks such as Nvidia and Tesla falling by more than 10%. At the same time, a large number of Chinese buyers were worried about the US economic situation and began to sell their properties in the United States. According to public data, in less than two years, Chinese buyers have reduced their holdings of US real estate by 228 billion yuan.



By August 5, the onshore RMB exchange rate against the US dollar reached 7.1150, a surge of 1,000 points. The reason for the strengthening of the RMB is that the US non-farm unemployment rate has reached 4.3%, which is not only the worst in the past three years, but also far exceeds expectations. This makes international investors believe that the risk of an economic recession in the United States is increasing. It is worth noting that this time Japan raised interest rates and announced how much foreign exchange it used to intervene in the exchange rate. In the face of this “turnaround” approach, the United States did not make any accusations. Obviously, the United States is also very clear about how serious the situation it faces!


This news is brought to you by Host Anton

08-06 19:36 from Hong Kong

5 Most DISTURBING Deaths of Tourists in Thailand…

https://youtu.be/A1XrrG3Nrgk

Shorpy

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Was the USSR really that bad?

I don’t know what exactly you were told about USSR, but it was at least 10 times less bad than you’ve been told.

Everyday life in USSR wasn’t that much different from social democracies of today:

  • There was work, properly regulated to 8 hours a day and 2 days off.
    • During dinner break, you’d get to eat at an eatery, usually one affiliated with your workplace.
    • There was almost 0% unemployment. The country always had work that needed doing, but if they didn’t, they’d invent some work for you, like digging holes or filling up holes.
  • The work was paid for properly at the end of the month.
  • People would spend their money in shops, to buy food and things.
    • Unlike capitalism, there usually was more money than things to buy.
    • The amount of stuff owned by a typical Soviet person wasn’t that much different from stuff owned by a typical worker under capitalism.
    • Food shortages were the exception, not the rule. But growing or foraging your own food was a thing.
  • Everybody had a roof over their heads, usually provided by the government for a small rent/tax.
    • Less lucky people lived in dormitories and communal apartment, more lucky ones lived in their own apartments.
    • Wait time to get one’s own apartment was similar to time for accumulating money to buy an apartment in capitalist Russia, but one could use their money freely.
  • Violent crime was pretty low, while black market seems to have flourished.
    • Newspapers did not go out of their way to scare people, so people felt much safer.
  • Life in prisons was worse, as it should be. Still, prisoner lifestyle was regulated, so they wouldn’t go hungry unless the whole country did.
    • That joke from “Operation Y” where an prisoner builder gets a 3-course dinner with shahlyk and a poor student working part-time (who has to buy his own food) gets some bread with kefir is a comedic exaggeration.

One thing that really helps is having a goal — something you want to do before you pass. Like Jeanne Calment who made a deal with her rotary André-François Raffray in 1965, when she was 90 years old… in exchange for having the right to continue living in the property, she’d sell the apartment to Raffray, for him to use after she passed. He sure felt he’d made a pretty sweet deal with the little old French lady…

Only Calment didn’t die… she kept living. And living. And living. By 1995, Raffray had already paid Calment many times the value of the property she was living in. A piece of property he legally owned for some 30 years but couldn’t sell or make use of. He died, in 1995. And Calment, 120, continued to live for another 2 years, finally dying in 1997 at age 122 with Raffray’s widow and children continuing to pay her generously for her refusal to meet her maker.

Calment lived another 32 years after reaching 90, and it made her a fortune in her day’s currency. She was paid generously just for being alive, despite continuing to smoke and drink and live merrily. “Sometimes in life, one makes a bad deal,” Calment simply said. And sometimes, people make mighty good deals.

Why She LEFT the USA and Moved HOME to ASIA!

We sure do!

I pay more than $1000 a month for “good insurance, and last month I fell. I knew something was wrong and instead of going to the ER, I went to urgent care because it would be so much cheaper.

It almost killed me.

You see, I had broken three ribs and punctured a lung. I was bleeding into my chest cavity and the longer I waited to see the cheap doctor, I was losing my ability to breathe. At one point a lady sat next to me. She took one look at me and screamed at the front desk to call an ambulance. I told them it would cost too much and I would drive myself.

Luckily for me, they stopped me from driving and the ambulance soon arrived.

I stayed in the hospital for 3 days and demanded to be released because I couldn’t afford to be there any longer. I was released AMA and I got lucky that I had someone at home to care for me. It has taken weeks for me to be able to take a breath without pain, and while my doctor wanted to see me at the two-week mark, I waited until 4 weeks to see her.

I am now waiting for the bills to arrive. I know that my deductible for the year is $17,000 and that will be what I will have to pay before the full insurance kicks in, but I will STILL have more deductibles to pay!!

Our system is BROKEN!! The MAIN reason people file for bankruptcy is medical bills, and we are supposedly a first-world nation!!!!

People are so damn worried about paying for everyone to get medical care that they would rather go bankrupt than pay LESS than we do now for actual care! They seem to forget that they are already paying for roads, schools, first responders and so much more, but heaven forbid they pay for medical!

It would be CHEAPER FOR EVERYONE!!!

PLUS our politicians are in the pockets of the insurance companies who will lose billions if we were to have universal healthcare. So, we continue to see the decline in our health, die earlier, and lose mothers during childbirth at a rate higher than some third-world nations, and all people can think of is “Well at least I didn’t pay for someone else to live”.

Absolute stupidity!

Alien

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Ash Brinton

“What’s your planet like?” the little alien asked wistfully.The alien was two feet tall, with a tiny blue curl on the top of his head. By the time the alien was an adult, the curl would be about eight feet tall, sticking straight up like a bright blue mohawk. The rest of him would be only four feet tall, and I wasn’t sure whether the aliens counted the curl as part of their height or not. This species was either really short or really, really tall.“It’s beautiful,” I responded, thinking longingly of home, “When I was little, everything was green and there were all these animals in our backyard. There was a gopher that lived in a hole in the rocks that my dad named Pierre. He always ate my sisters garden. And at night, there were so many… so many stars. There was a lullaby my mom used to sing about the stars. I haven’t heard it in so long. I’ve almost forgotten the words.” I hummed the tune under my breath for a moment, “But Earth… Earth’s not quite as beautiful as it once was.”“What happened?” the young alien tilted his head, curious.“Humanity happened. We were told we were destroying the planet but no one would listen and when we did it was never enough. Overpopulation, pollution, hunger, poverty, global warming… Those all started before I was born and by the time I was old enough to do anything, it was too late. It was already irreversible. The people my age tried to at least slow it down, but no one would listen to us. Our only hope was to find another planet, like scavengers destroying everything they touch. We destroyed our home. Maybe if we had all worked together, refused to ignore the signs, things would be different, but we didn’t and they’re not.”“Is that why you left?”“Yes.” I turned away from the alien, lost in thought.Here I was, a human, lightyears away from my home. I couldn’t even see the sun from here. I had failed in my mission.Sure, I had found alien life on other planets, but I had lost my crewmates and my home. My memories of how I got there were still foggy.I remembered my crew and how we had been the first humans to reach the Kuiper Belt. We’d felt like heroes. Then one of the asteroids had crashed into our ship.I had been the only one to escape the wreckage.The aliens found me.Next thing I knew, I was in their spaceship with no idea where I was.“Do you miss it?” the young alien asked.“Hmm?” I turned back to him.“Don’t you miss Earth?”“Every day.”“I can’t believe I’m actually talking to a human. A real, live human! My grandmama says she went to Mars once. It’s the closest she ever got – the closest any of us ever got – to Earth. There was this weird thing that my mama calls a-” he said something in a different language “-but I don’t think there’s a word for it in Human, so the translator might not work for it. It was made of panels and metal with a human word written on the side in big block letters. The first letter looked like a wide mouth getting ready to eat you, grandmama says.”I tilted my head, trying to imagine what he meant. “An ‘O’?”“What’s an ‘O’?”“The letter. It looks like this,” I traced my finger through dust on the small table between us.The alien child shrugged, “Maybe. I wasn’t there. Grandmama says you could see Earth from where she was and it was all greens and blues and browns and whites and when it wasn’t facing the star, the land glowed. It even had a tiny metal moon orbiting it!” The little alien boy put his hands on my knees to pull himself into a standing position.“Earth only has one moon and that’s made of rock, but your grandmama may have seen a satellite. And the land wasn’t glowing, silly.” I chuckled, flicking the little curl on the top of their head that seemed to be the defining factor of their species, “That was the lights in the cities and houses.”“Why would you need lights? You have a star right there in your solar system!”“The lights are for at night, when the sun goes down.”“What’s a sun?”“It’s what we call our star,” I explained.The alien’s eyes grew wide, “Your star moves?”“No.” I said flatly, “When Earth rotates, it looks like the sun is moving across the sky. Thousands of years ago, people thought it was moving. They thought that Earth was the center of the universe.”

The alien snorted, “That’s kind of self-absorbed.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “but science proved them wrong. When the part of the Earth that we are standing on turns away from the sun and it goes dark, we say the sun goes down. We call that time night. That’s when we can see the moon and the stars up in the sky. Do you have that on your planet?”

“No. There’s two stars, one on either side of my birth planet, so it’s always not-night.”

“Day. The word you’re looking for is day.”

“Wow. Humans name everything, huh. What do you call your moon?”

“Well, technically the moon’s name is Luna, but there’s only one, so we just call it the moon most of the time.”

“Cool!” He exclaimed, “We don’t have a sky. Mama says the atmosphere’s too weak for us to have a pretty sky like the one on Earth.”

“Light pollution blocks most of the sky nowadays, so don’t be disappointed if you ever see it.”

“Mama and Grandmama have always wanted to go to Earth. They were so excited when you got to the end of your solar system. We’ve been watching you progress for a while. Mama said humans were resilient and stubborn and would never give up, but Papa thought you were going to give up because you kept finding rocks and that was it.”

“They were cool rocks,” I nudged him, “Space rocks.”

The alien clapped two of his arms together, which I was quickly learning was how this species showed delight.

I hated to burst the alien’s bubble of innocence and wonder but…

“Do you know the worst thing about Earth and living there?”

The child’s face dropped and the spiky arm-like appendages fell to their side.

I continued, “The worst part about living on Earth, or at least in my country, isn’t the pollution, poverty, hunger, or even abuse. It’s the tension. The fear that we’ve entrusted the keys of mass destruction to a lunatic or a villain. The constant worry that one day you’ll turn on the tv and hear that a war has broken out in our country and a nuclear bomb has been dropped. In my country, we are always at war, but it is always pushed under the rug and ignored. For stuff like that to be shown on the news, it would have to be on our own soil. Either a civil war or a world war. It would destroy anything. No one would survive, and if they did… that fate might be even worse.”

“So… you don’t want to go back to Earth?”

I shrugged helplessly, “Humanity destroyed Earth. Maybe when your grandmama saw it, Earth was more beautiful, more loving, more kind, but more likely is that the effects of humanity’s cruelty were only just starting to show on Earth’s surface and it wasn’t as noticeable yet. To truly see Earth, you have to get up close, beneath the clouds, into the cities. Still… I do want to go home. I want to rebuild and restore Earth to its former glory, if it ever had any when humanity lived on the Earth. I want to see the animals, healthy and thriving, not on the brink of extinction, and to see the moon surrounded by stars, and see the milky way hovering in the sky like it did when my grandparents were little. I want to go home.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t think so, little friend. It’s not fair to pull you into our mess.”

“So? I want to see Earth too! I want to help the humanities.”

I smiled sadly and patted the alien’s baby curl. “Let’s just get me home first. Just imagine being the first of your species to reach Earth’s surface. Your mama will be so proud.”

I looked out the small window at the wide expanse of nothing, with stars twinkling in the distance, almost too far away to see.

“Let’s go home.”

Alex Julius, you should be the one who must be cured of your delusions.

You are likely too young, but know that it’s not just Japan and South Korea, there are almost 800 of such “colonies” in the world.

We’re still doing this – added Finland recently. And restored another – the Philippines.

This is the rare occasion where what trump claimed is actually true – Americans can literally shoot anybody on main street and can’t be touched. Young Filipinos may not know these, but Filipinos were target practices once they get too close to Clark and Subic and of course, they could treat their women however they feel they want. And Bong Bong wants all these American liberties back in his country.

The only difference is that its so much more for Japan and South Korea – its Washington that dictates their national foreign policies – that when the American president tells them to jump, they ask how high. . . where the government of Japan can’t fly over Tokyo without permission of the U.S. military commisioner . . . where South Korea can’t do anything involving their military without the permission of the U.S. military brass. . . .where its president must know how to sing Karaoke when making state visits. But of course, to maintain the pretext of democracy, they have to do the work of governing their own people – that they can do themselves. Isn’t all these describing running “colonies” by enjoying the best of both worlds?

Today’s MM image generations

The focus is on admiration, and the god of the vine. It’s a hodgepodge of prompts and resulting in very interesting images.

Many nudes. But you all know that I am figurative art lover.

I really love the style, and the color composition. But I am having problems with the image arrangement. But I think that in time things will straighten out.

Personally, I don’t like full nudes. I prefer partial nudes, and elements of clothing with folds, and details.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(17)

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(15)
@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(15)

So I changed things out. And I started to require loin cloths and other attire elements.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(15)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(15)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(11)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(11)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(10)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(10)

Some didn’t have the elements of clothing, but the colors were great.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(10)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(10)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(9)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(9)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(9)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(9)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(8)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(8)

In the ones where everyone was  clothed, it became too formal. I wanted something less formal.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(8)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(8)

Maybe something more like this…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(7)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(7)

This is pretty good.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(7)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(7)

So is this one.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(6)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(6)

And this one.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(6)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(6)

The careful placement of arms was really nice.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(5)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(5)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(5)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(5)

This is fine…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(4)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(4)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(2)
@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(2)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(1)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(1)

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(1)
@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(1)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2

Our married love life was wonderful, Blessed with cute baby girl , added more and more love to our lives. Perfect love life , both of us were equally romantic and made for each other in all aspects . But he fell sick one day, severely sick. Lost his job soon due to the serious health reasons . I was not working and no experience though well qualified. No one earning at home , worst phase of our lives .I started hunting for job , use to seek help with whomever I know , giving my resume. Since it was already 4 years that I had finished my degree, securing a job was really too hard and challenging. I use to drop into offices , use all my limited intelligence and resources to get a job. Everywhere , every effort was a failure, I was good at nothing , hopes were very less with the future. Somewhere luck clicked , a gentleman agreed to help me , but I had to go far off – 1000 kms from my town . I took the bold step, left the beloved family back . I got a break, worked very hard without caring the number of working hours , my food , my comforts despite of my gender constraints. I did not had anyone to care about me . I had save every penny and money order to home. My life was very hard , but started feeling bit ease with finance. I could meet my family first time after a gap of 10 months. I endured all the pains , discomforts to save our lives . Slowly in 2 years my financial status became very sound and everyone happy at home. All the needs and luxuries of each individual were met with my income. This is 20 years old story , but when I look back now , I wonder myself with the journey. Everyone in the family knows about my success , no one knows the struggle I had in the initial stages especially when alone , away from home. But I am happy I could take care of my loved ones…!! I have cut the very long story short though here. Thanks for reading through this.

Edit 1 :

Dear all my friends , I am adding some more details as asked by you . My smart and intelligent husband lost many of his metal capabilities permanently , he just survived with no physical handicap. As of today he is very casual person with no job , no responsibility and no emotions to me and my daughter.

Yes I could meet all the materialistic needs of the family, but the love which I was dying for , I haven’t experienced again.

The reason I am anonymous here is , I have managed to keep this story very secret as much as possible due to many reasons . I had lots of hopes that I would get my love back , year on year realized that it would never happen, Along with that with growing daughter I wanted to stay strong , avoid any negative emotions , keep the father and daughter bonding as well as family bonding intact . My journey along had been very very rough while managing to take care of crooked in laws , take full responsibility of my sick parents ( my younger brother had died in road accident then ) , emotionless and half sensed husband. I avoided myself in all the social gatherings due to his behavioral issues, it is all a daily battle. I wanted to ensure my daughter will not suffer psychologically in this bargain. It was all tight rope walk for me , lost my youth , real happiness in life . But only satisfaction is my daughter is like a fresh flower with full of fragrance, she is undisturbed with all the tragedy which occurred in our life when she was close to 2 years old.

Materialistically I gained many many things in life but the wonderful love which I received from my husband is just a dream now. Many good things happened to me in my career unexpectedly .There are many many bitter most things about my husband which is still going on my life . Life has taught me the art of living .. and it is going on & on

Edit 2.

Friends , my thanks to all of you . Your responses has made me to feel lighter with the hard and helpless feelings that I have that I am not able to fix my husbands problems. I could have donated any part of my body to resume his love , medically there is no brain transplant . Miracles may work ??

I had shared a part of my story here earlier ,

Someone anonymous’s answer to What is the loveliest thing a child has ever said to you?

when I get chance I would share the details of deadly disease that my husband survived with, how I handled both my challenging IT career, responsibility of all the dependents , how my husbands family took undue advantage of his illness and emotionless status

Edit 3

Friends ,My daughter loves her dad a lot , has accepted him fully for what he is , tried her best to make him to understand his responsibility , no luck but. Our sorrow never reflects in our faces, not an exaggeration we look our best , lively and cheerful . Also look like sisters as per the comment we keep receiving from others. She is bold , practical, very independent, kind and considerate . Though she knows the hardships of mine she does not simply sympathize and am not emotional burden on her. She flew abroad recently for her masters and has lot of ambitions in life. She has her own passions besides academics.

My love life has been fully empty, I have been trying to overcome by indulging in my work , disciplined life & hobbies . My love to the family has been stronger not giving me a chance of seeking love elsewhere . Probably my brought up has a bigger role here

1990-0802, Delta Force Rapist.

MSG Marshall Brown, 1st Special Forces Operations Detachment Delta Operator, arrested while TDY in East Providence, RI. He raped five women. MSG Brown escaped custody & was captured 3-days later.

In 1988, an investigation began when two women were attacked in Raleigh, one @ North Carolina State University, apparently by the same man, a stranger, who climbed in through their second story windows, hooded & dressed in black, ordered them to silence with a knife held to their throats, covered their faces, then raped them. During the rapes, he apologized, telling them that he didn’t want to hurt them & that he “had to do this.”

On June 11, 1989 in Cranston, Rhode Island, Marshall Brown was taken into custody & charged with the rapes of two Rhode Island women. These women were raped with the same modus operandi as the North Carolina women. While in custody, Marshall was deferential to the police, calling them by their ranks & observing scrupulous courtesy. Police described him as soft-spoken. He even spoke approvingly of the professionalism of the arrests & complimented one officer for his handcuffing technique. He had been arrested for prowling in Fayetteville, North Carolina, earlier that May. He had forfeited his bond for a dismissal of the charge.

Marshall went to work in jail, studying the patterns of the federal marshals who transported him to & from court & making friends with a 20-year-old inmate named Frederick Heon. He stayed in shape in jail, using his exercise periods to run.

On July 30, he was cuffed to another prisoner in the back of a federal marshal van & driven to Providence to attend his hearing. When the back door opened, Marshall – who had picked open his handcuffs – walked with the escorting marshal & his fellow inmate for a bit, then sprang past the startled federal marshals & ran like an Olympic athlete up the street & out of sight.

Heon was out on bail & had rented a car, per Marshall’s instructions & was waiting @ an appointed rendezvous point & drove Marshall to the Connecticut state line. Heon then went to a church where he was told he’d find money, which wasn’t there. Three days later, Marshall was caught in a stolen car & re-arrested. Marshall told the police about Heon’s assistance & Heon was taken back to jail for a parole violation.

Marshall had burglarized a house 15 miles outside of Providence for food & credit cards & was camping in a pine grove nearby. He stole the car in the same neighborhood. When back in custody, he admitted to nine rapes in Rhode Island, Texas, Arizona & North Carolina. Marshall had been attending the Naval version of the Sergeants Major Academy in Norfolk when he was caught the first time.

His wife, Michelle, who was taking care of their young son, was stunned.

I can’t even pretend to understand Marshall Brown, after spending many hours with him & going on one combat operation with him. I have heard the statement that rape is not sex, it is an exercise of power. I don’t buy it. Rape is violent power, but it is sexualized power & it is also violent sex. Sex in patriarchal society is in almost every case practiced, portrayed & understood as a form of aggression & power & all power is in many ways sexualized.

Marshall’s brother-in-law spoke with me many years later & said that Marshall told him that he felt he had to use his skills somehow, or he’d begin to lose them. Marshall saw the rapes as a training opportunity @ some level & therefore the women as training aids

One might suppose, since he repeated this ritualistic rape @ least nine times, that there was some rush he needed. I don’t buy it. He had jumped out of airplanes a thousand times, was a proficient technical climber, had been in combat. I think the rush – if that’s what it was – was transgression. Nancy C. M. Hartsock, in Money, Sex & Power – Toward a Feminist Historical Materialism, said that “without the boundary to violate, the thrill of transgression would disappear.” Marshall’s criminality was not in spite of his religious conversion, his squeamishness about sex, or his uptight WASP upbringing in East Texas. It was an outcome… of all those things, but also of a masculinity defined by a culture of rape & a man who had made a career of pursuing that masculinity.

Marshall Brown served in a profession with a constant subtext of physical coercion & in a field within that profession (Delta Force/Special Operations) where we were expected to work outside the rules, behind the scenes, in the shadows, employing a host of very specialized skills, to “preserve a way of life.”

My father has served for 4 decades in the Indian Army. He retired last year but still looks like a young gentleman. Here is his pic:

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main qimg 9492057ed7a9f41ad4dd09997e9d47a3 lq

Following are the things he does daily in order to maintain that fitness, happiness, and energy:

  1. Early 2 bed & early 2 rise: He sleeps by 10 pm and wakes up at 5 am. Those 7 hours are pure sound sleep.
  2. Fresh Air: Upon waking up, he goes for a walk/jog along with our dog.
  3. Morning Nutrition: Next, he drinks Mulethi Tea, which has immense and immense benefits.
  4. Being Natural: He also does Brushing with Neem twig sometimes before normal brushing. He applies Mustard Oil. He hasn’t used shampoo even once in his life and still at the age of 60, he has black & naturally strong hair.
  5. Exercise: Next, he performs yoga and calisthenics.
  6. Spirituality for positivity: After having a bath, he does pooja, which according to him gives him positivity and strength for the odd things.
  7. Do what you love: Then he goes to work. Right now after retirement, his work is to look after our farms. Despite having servants, he also does some farming himself which gives him joy.
  8. Love what you do: In his small-small work, whether household or be it when he was in the Army. He is determined and has will power to do the work. He takes full responsibility and doesn’t procrastinate. He does his work happily. He accepts responsibilities and problems rather than blaming or cursing. This reduces stress and increases productivity.
  9. Nutrition on time: He ensures that he takes his meals on time (Lunch before 1 pm and Dinner before 7.30).
  10. Proper Nutrition: He also ensures that he eats natural things and things with more health benefits rather than going for taste. For example, we eat black wheat roti, self-grown vegetables & and fruits, pure milk, and whatever we can arrange naturally.
  1. We were having dinner at the private Magic Castle in Hollywood. At the next table was a stereotypical studio executive type; you know, 50+ years old, ultra tan, long (hair plugged?) grey hair, flashy suit. With him was a20ish young, hot model type, with a low cut backless dress that showed off her tattoos, among other things. Yup, I thought; fossil studio exec pulling a Harvey Weinstein with some actress. Except as they were leaving, the young woman said to him Dad, when Mom gets back from New York, maybe we can have dinner again!
  2. Having dinner in a restaurant. The guy next to us appears to be having a tough time with his date. He does all the talking, and his date just gives him a half smile; jokes, funny stories, ordering the food, just a half smile from the women. We thought it might be a first date, maybe off of the internet or a blind one. Except when they were about to leave, the guy got her wheelchair and helped her sit in it; she obviously had had a stroke or something, and thus she could only muster a half smile and not speak.
  3. Las Vegas: we enter the Wynn Hotel, and see a scantily clad (mini skirt, halter top) woman walking with two security guards on either side. We thought it was a hooker being escorted out of the premises. However, this was Las Vegas. She was instead wearing the standard waitress outfit for the hotel. Sorry, our mistake!

A young pilot got a job as a bush pilot flying float planes in Alaska. On one of his first jobs, he flew out to a remote lake to pick up a hunter who had been dropped off the week before.

When he got there, he was horrified to discover that the hunter had bagged a full grown bull moose. He also had several hunting rifles, a canoe, several boxes of ammunition, plus all his camping gear.

“That’s too much,” he protested. “I won’t even get the plane into the air with all that weight.”

“I don’t see why not,” the hunter replied. “You strap the canoe to one of the floats, the moose to the other float, the baggage in the back seats, and I sit up front with you. Alf Smith did it last year, and he got us into the air.”

The young pilot’s ego was wounded. “Well, if Alf Smith can do it, so can I. Give me a hand.”

He taxied downwind to the far end of the lake as far as he could go, spun around into the wind and gave it full throttle. The plane staggered into the air and just barely cleared the trees at the far end. Ahead of them, however, was a low ridge. Using every ounce of flying skill, he managed to nurse the airplane over the trees at the top of the ridge. Before he could relax, however, he realized to his horror that there was a second, even higher ridge a half mile in front of him. There was nothing he could do but pancake the airplane into the trees.

As he and his passenger crawled out from the wreckage, he surveyed the destroyed plane and wept “My God, what have I done?”

“Don’t feel too bad,” said the hunter. “You made it half a mile farther than Alf Smith did last year.”

I was driving along a two lane road in rural Minnesota, at or just below the speed limit (55mph) when I saw a cop pull out from a side road. He quickly caught up with me and lit me up. I found a driveway where I could pull over safely and stopped. As I was getting my license and insurance ready, he walked up and asked the usual question, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”.

I said, no, I can’t think of anything I was doing wrong.

He told me that he had seen me give room for a lady pulling out slowly, and didn’t blow my horn, flash my lights or seem irritated that she had blocked my path, but let her get up to speed and gave her plenty of room. I also returned a wave from her as she turned off the road.

He handed me a card that read “Good Driver Award”. He told me that if I needed to use it, to show it, and they’ll forgive minor things like too long in a metered parking space. Not only that, but he was very cordial and friendly. Told me to have a nice drive home. He also told me to show it either the McDonald’s or Burger King just up the road for a free soda.

Made my day!!

Haha. Tonya Harding Syndrome. What a perfect description of the mentality of USA against anyone that is strong, be it China or Russia.

After WW2, USSR was militarily strong. USA said USSR threatened US (dominance). USA then collapsed USSR in 1991. Today Russia is still militarily strong, then thru Ukraine, USA is to weaken, if not break up Russia.

In 1980s’, when Japan was economically strong being #2 in the world & when its semiconductor surpassed USA, USA then beat Japan down making Japan lost 10–20 years’ of development.

Today, China is both economically, militarily & technologically strong. Of course, USA cannot sleep well at night.

Dont ever think USA is gentle to EU who is also competing with USA. USA pulled down Euro once. One reason for the Ukraine war is to weaken Europe’s economy.

So … USA suffers Tonya Harding syndrome against anybody who is developing well & challenging US hegemony. Not just against China.

USA was successful in beating down USSR & Japan. But has & will fail in China though.

Perhaps you’ve forgotten that China’s President Xi Jinping is the son of one of China’s greatest generals?

That he spent three years in uniform as Assistant to the Secretary of Defense?

That in the past two years he has repeatedly called on his 2,000,000 man army to ‘prepare to fight and win wars’?

That, when Gallup asked people around the world, “Would you fight for your country in case of war ?”, 87% of Chinese are willing and ready to fight–almost three times the percentage of Americans or anyone else?

Today, China overmatches the US in its Near Seas and my guess is that it will choose to act there in order to open a potential second front to take pressure off Russia. A credible sequence goes something like this: in close coordination with Russia, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Turkey and Hezbollah…

1. Announce an ADIZ, below, over Taiwan and the Taiwan Strait that excludes all military aircraft and requires permission for every civilian flight in and out of Taiwan. The US cannot prevent this and it paralyzes Taiwan.

2. Issue an arrest warrant for Tsai Ing-wen on a charge of treason and incitement to war and warn that anyone attempting to assist her will be charged as an accessory.

3. Announce that the Taiwan Strait is Chinese, permanently closed to military vessels.

4. Announce that the entire South China Sea is Chinese, permanently closed to military vessels.

5. Show off a few new weapons systems to complement its remarkable missiles and its fleet of Type 055 heavy cruisers, the most powerful surface combatants afloat.

6. Place the entire nation on a war footing, call up the reserves and activate all radars, light up all missile launching facilities, etc.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vxd_A-hGEOQ

These actions would be front page headlines in every new media on earth yet, if you do the math, you’ll see that the cost is….$0.00.

And China hasn’t invaded Taiwan yet. Hasn’t hurt a fly, in fact.

China’s capacity to sustain combat in its Near Seas is far bigger than Western media have been telling us (read the USNI papers to see what I mean). America is no match for China there–on land, sea or in the air.

And, as Clausewitz might have said, fleets win battles but economies win wars and China’s economy is far bigger, growing much faster and is more capable of ramping up than ours.

Would invasion even be necessary?

As a female autistic growing up in Outback Australia in the 1960’s I was bullied a lot. Really nasty stuff, it was only when I was in my 40’s that I got diagnosed as High Functioning Aspergers. I have always used education to get out of bad situations and high school was a particularly bad situation! Getting my head flushed down the toilet daily by a group of six or seven laughing girls was just something I had to deal with.

I left as soon as I was able, went to the nearest big city, got a job and continued to study at night school. Over the years, I built up this small base into a very comfortable career, married, had children and continued to work in a job I enjoyed, was good at, and that paid well. I have travelled the world and learned several languages, since I have an affinity for it.

One of my “nerdy” friends stayed on in the small regional town I’d gone to high school in and we kept touch. She was able to tell me what became of the bullies who used to torment us.

The leader of the group was a girl who was voted by our class as “the most likely to succeed”, apparently because she was regarded as pretty and used to date a high school sports jock. She ended up living in a caravan with a dozen children all from different fathers, working occasionally in low-paid jobs and living on welfare and whatever she could make by peddling her body. My friend told me that I wouldn’t recognize her as she got onto meth and used to pick at her skin leaving bleeding sores all over. She eventually died of a drug overdose a few years ago.

Another girl who used to delight in putting out cigarettes on my skin if she caught me going to the loo while she was there ended up dying, her car wrapped around a tree late one night when her boyfriend, who was driving drunk, was speeding.

A number of other bullies, the low-level ones who just went along with the major bullies and joined in if they had nothing better to do, ended up spending their lives working in the vegetable cannery or the chicken processing plant or the abbatoirs (I lived in an agricultural community, and those where the big employers.) There are probably worse jobs about than gutting chickens for a living, and it is at least good honest work, I suppose…

Another one, a boy this time who used to enjoy getting a seat behind me on the two hour bus ride to and from school and whacking me across the back of the head with a book, also got his karma – he became a welder after he left school, was working inside a silo one day and there was a build-up of gases. When he turned on the welder, the gases ignited while he was inside the silo and the result was that he lost both his legs. Now he has no choice but to sit – in a wheelchair.

Whereas I have lived a comfortable and mostly content life, doing a job I love, running my own business, and owning my own houses, some of which I rent out. One of the best things I ever did was to leave the small-town bullies and small-minded losers to their own devices and leave. I’ve never regretted going.

My grandfather should of gone to Fiddler’s Greene

My story is essentially a movie trope now. I was sitting in my local pub with my dad who was in a wheelchair, it was during the midweek (in Scotland), early evening, so it was pretty quiet, just a handful of middle aged guys, me and my dad. 4 young yob lads came in, if you’re in the UK you know the type, baseball caps, tracksuits, swaggering like Liam Gallacher, thinking they’re hard men.

They’d obviously had a few drinks before coming in, and after a few pints and us putting up with their shit tunes on the jukebox, they started getting a bit rambunctious, getting progressively louder and more aggressive as the evening turned to night.

One of the old guys, having gotten sick of their “doof doof” dance music crap got up and stuck a few quid in the jukebox, putting on some old 60’s 70’s rock music. One of the young team took offence to this, and got in his face, he started mouthing off at the old guy, who just stood there, impassive, and after a couple of minutes of this abuse the young team joined in, so one of the other regulars got up off his bar stool and stood behind the young team, and as if on some unseen signal, the old guy who was backed up against the jukebox just stuck the head right on the lad who was in his face, while his friend grabbed 2 of the young team and pulled them away, as the boy who’d been nutted reeled back, the old boy went for his friend, knocking him out with a left in the gut, and a hard right to the side of his head as he doubled over.
Meanwhile his friend had knocked one guy out with one punch, and when he turned his attention to the last guy, he blocked a punch and hit the boy so hard he flew over the pool table!

Turned out both of them were class fighters in their day, and some things you just don’t forget.

Morale of the story is, be respectful to people you don’t know, because you don’t know their history, and don’t know what they’ve done or been through.

Never saw those lads in the pub again, and they weren’t missed!

To Die for Beef Roast

This is one of the best roasts you will ever taste. Carrots, potatoes and celery can also be added, if desired.

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23d9865a8eaeed0096d929fcc4aef6f5

ea47fee21d0171dc218c322c0e615c11
ea47fee21d0171dc218c322c0e615c11

Ingredients

  • 1 beef roast (any kind)
  • 1 envelope Hidden Valley Ranch salad dressing mix
  • 1 envelope brown gravy mix
  • 1 envelope Italian dressing mix
  • 1/2 cup warm water

Instructions

  1. Place roast in slow cooker.
  2. Mix contents of all 3 envelopes and sprinkle over roast.
  3. Pour water into the bottom of the slow cooker.
  4. Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 7 hours.

Very safe! In fact, you can increase that number to 40 or 50 and it will still be true.

I lived in a Chinese village with a Chinese family for one month as part of a homestay program. I started my journey from Shanghai airport, and the entire stretch of road leading to the village was smooth, with no potholes, no litter, and not once did I see anyone driving their vehicle on the wrong side of the road, or see stray dogs and cattle hold up vehicles.

Every house in the village had an attached toilet, 24×7 electricity, and the houses all had modern appliances like washing machine, refrigerator, TV, Wi-Fi etc. And I had visited quite a few houses.

Every classroom in the village primary school had a TV which the teachers used to teach their students. The secondary school had Wi-Fi.

All the villagers wore helmets while riding their electric scooters. Every single one of them could read and write Mandarin, and none of them littered or spat or peed in the open.

The women all wore jeans, dresses, skirts etc. and no one judged them and shamed them for “aping the west”. What mattered was their ability, not what clothes they wore.

It was completely safe to wander around the village after dark. No one got harassed for their gender, nationality etc. None of the female participants in the homestay program ever mentioned that they felt uncomfortable, or were stared at by men for wearing shorts. None of us faced any racist taunts.

I’m not saying that China has no problems, but this Chinese village had better services than most Indian cities (we can still only dream of uninterrupted power supply, or 24×7 water, or pothole-free roads).

I cannot say with authority that all villages in China are like this, but I would wager that many of them are. The cities are of course in a different league. I stayed in the suburbs to the north of Shanghai for a few days, not a tourist area. The neighbourhoods were clean, with excellent roads, and footpaths were not cluttered by hawkers. People followed traffic rules. I went to a side street where there were stalls selling street food, and it was clean. No one littered, there was no garbage anywhere.

It’s not just their GDP or infrastructure. It’s their mentality too that has helped China zip ahead.

Scott Ritter Discloses: How the Russian Hypersonic Missile Changed the Game in Ukraine!

My step father came into my life when I was 8, and treated me and my siblings badly without a word of interference from my mother for the rest of my childhood. I left home at eighteen, and got together with the woman I’m married to at age 25. She had two children, a boy of three and a half and a girl of six months, so I got an entire family in one fell swoop. A year later we had been on holiday with the children, and dropped by my mother’s cabin on the way home. We were supposed to sleep there before driving the long way home.

My step father was drunk, and proceded to be nasty to our son. I got mad as a wasp, and informed him he was not allowed to talk to my children like that. There was a huge quarrel, he and I shouting, my mother claiming “He didn’t mean it”, the children crying, my wife watching it all with her mouth open, utterly appalled. It finally calmed down, but he kept mumbling nasty remarks through dinner, so we decided to leave. I also decided I would no longer spend time in his company. After that I have seen him at weddings and christenings, and that’s it.

I wish him well, but will not allow his poison to infect my life any more.

Pennsylvania Dutch Chili

6e3557d3ca33d4d4e4a75a9a5e87e80f
6e3557d3ca33d4d4e4a75a9a5e87e80f

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 pound homemade noodles or 1 (12 to 16 ounce) bag wide egg noodles
  • 1 can baked beans
  • 1 cup spaghetti sauce or less (or 1 small jar)

Instructions

  1. Brown ground beef and onion.
  2. Cook and drain egg noodles.
  3. Combine everything. You may need additional sauce if you have leftovers and warm them up later. Chili should be thick, not soupy.
  4. Serve with crusty bread.

https://youtu.be/_BvrwyR4dCM

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He was young, and a favorite actor of mine.

In terms of losing its engineering chops and becoming an overfinancialized blue chip play?

Yes.

However, Boeing’s problem ia execution, whereas Intel’s business model is facing obsolescence.

Both are in danger of ebbing away in the uncertain future ahead, though Boeing’s decline will be back stopped by the government, given its role as a key arms contractor and America’s only builder of airliners.

Boeing is one or two crashes from a PR nightmare, especially if it happens on the Max.

Intel’s product mix appear unsuitable for an ai-heavy world, and arm is projected to make huge inroads to the windows ecosystem in the coming years.

Intel needs a radical rethink, because the chips act cannot save it from drowning when the market moves decisively against a product portfolio. This is made worse by the poisonous politics that has reshaped demand in East Asia.

I don’t envy Intel at all.

Breaking: Undefeated US Indicator Signals “Full-Blown” Recession

“How serious was this threat?”

Let me put it this way: the People’s Liberation Army could have taken back Hong Kong during the Chinese Civil War, long before the founding of the People’s Republic of China, and long before Deng met Thatcher.

The 44th Army of the PLA chased the fleeing Kuomintang forces all the way to Shenzhen. Their troopers were at one point gathered at Hong Kong’s Lo Wu border. They were literally one river crossing away from the British colony. Hong Kong only had a few thousand colonial troops stationed at the time. The battle-hardened 44th could have easily taken the city in about a day with a single well-timed bayonet charge. Two days at the most.

Sir Alexander Grantham, who was the governor of Hong Kong at the time, recalled that the PLA didn’t even need to attack. All they had to do was cut off food and water supplies to the colony, and the British would have to surrender in less than a month.

But neither of these scenarios ever happened. Chairman Mao ordered the army to stop the attack and turn back, stating that he had “other plans for Hong Kong”. Premier Zhou Enlai himself personally oversaw the situation with Hong Kong, and made sure that nothing went amiss with its supply of food and water.

History vindicated Mao’s decision to not take back Hong Kong immediately. He had the vision and the sense to play the game of geopolitics.

  1. Mao knew that China was poor and underdeveloped, and was soon to be sanctioned by the United States and the rest of the imperialist west for being a communist nation. A gateway to the west was desperately needed.
  2. The British Empire, likewise, also needed Hong Kong to serve as its gateway to the east. By letting the British keep Hong Kong for just a little while longer, Mao prevented China from being isolated by an anti-China alliance of western powers completely, which was what would have happened if the British had been beaten and sent home crying to Uncle Sam.In 1950, the UK became one of the first capitalist countries to formally recognise the PRC.
  3. Mao was worried about the overwhelming influence and control the Soviet Union had over the Chinese Communist Party. He did not want a communist China to be freed from Fascist Japan and the Imperialist West, only to answer to a red Russia. Having Hong Kong as a gateway to the west, meant that China would not have to depend entirely on the Soviet Union.History proved him right, as evident in the Sino-Soviet split in the 1950s, and the fall of North Korea in the 1990s.
  4. Just because Mao let the British lord over the people of Hong Kong for a while longer, doesn’t mean he had forgotten about the welfare of its predominantly Chinese populace. The city’s status as a gateway between east and west was the sole reason its economy flourished in the 20th century.Hong Kong’s success was never a “miracle” or the result of British rule, but a by-product of the times, geopolitics, and external factors greater than the city itself – a lesson most people in Hong Kong, both young and old, have forgotten

Article 5 of NATO would not have been China’s main concern, because the article could only be invoked in case of an attack on a NATO member’s own soil (i.e. Europe or North America). In fact, the first time it was ever invoked was after the events of 9/11.

In any case, China did play a major part in the Korean War, fighting the coalition forces of the United Nations to a standstill, so I doubt the formation of NATO would have changed the course of history too much – and that’s assuming NATO was willing at all to waste money and lives defending the British Empire’s interests. There’s a reason why Article 5 was never invoked during the Falklands War.

The fact remains that the PRC never planned to take back Hong Kong by force in the first place. They had no illusions that the sun would never set on the British Empire. They knew Hong Kong would become Chinese again eventually.

Addendum:
Chiang Kai-shek actually wanted to take back Hong Kong from the British after the Second World War. He rightfully saw the the Treaty of Nanking as humiliating to the Chinese people, and negotiated with the UK and the US to have the treaty abolished in 1942. The British Empire rejected the proposal, Chiang refused to relent, and so the matter was dropped from the agenda.

However, another agreement was formed that whoever entered Chinese territory previously under Japanese occupation first, would get to keep it for themselves.

When Japan surrendered in 1945, both the British and the Kuomintang scrambled to send forces to Hong Kong. KMT soldiers were apparently the first to enter Hong Kong’s New Territories, which was disputed by the UK.

The UK referred the matter to the US. President Truman wanted to ally with the UK against the Soviet Union, so he betrayed Chiang by declaring Hong Kong was never part of the deal. The KMT had to withdraw their forces, and Hong Kong soon became a British colony once again. So close, and yet so far.

This is actually a snapshot into what China was like under the Kuomintang government. Yes they were founded on great ideas by great men, but they were also de facto puppets of the Imperialist West, and therefore unable to give the Chinese people the rights, liberty, dignity and respect they deserved.

Hong Kong would very likely still be British today, had the communists lost the civil war.

Just In! Burkina Faso Forces Launch Ambush Operations Against Insurgent Groups!

John K Adams

Dril entered from the air-lock. Myr looked up from the vid-screen.“Brrr, it’s cold out there.”“Don’t you wear your suit?”“Of course I do. You think I’m crazy?”Myr raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer that.“I remember reading it is always cold out there. It’s the moon, silly.”“I know it’s the moon. I got us this gig, remember?”“That I do.”“I mean, who better than us to prospect the best sites for mining delicious moon cheese?”“No one I can think of.” Myr sighed. “You know what you forgot to have delivered?”

“What’s that, Honey Pie?”

“Some new material. You have told a variation of that joke at least once daily for the last year.”

“Except, mining for cheese is serious business.”

“Please stop.”

Dril smiled at Myr. “You want me to cook dinner tonight?”

Myr sighed again. “Is it dinner time? I know what the clock says, but it doesn’t feel like dinner time. The sun is still out.”

“You know how this works, Myr.”

“Of course I do. I get it intellectually. But a month of sunshine followed by a month of darkness?”

“Actually, it’s more like two weeks.”

“Really? Who came up with that schedule?”

“Uhm… God?”

“I need a break, Dril.”

“What do you say we take a week and go to the Sea of Tranquility? Or to the mountains?”

Myr put her hands up to her ears and shook her head. “No. No. No. No. No.”

Dril passed on this opportunity to, once again, make a joke about American cheese and the flag left behind by the first men to land here.

“Let’s dance.” Dril moved toward Myr with a rhythmic step. He started singing. “Blue Moon… You saw me standing alone…”

Myr shrugged off his embrace. “Don’t you dare start about Kate Smith.”

Dril put his hands up, in frustration and surrender. “I’m trying to make the best of a…”

“Cabin fever. Isn’t that what you call it?”

“On the moon, it is called ‘existential angst’.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

Dril touched Myr’s elbow. “Come on, Babe. We never look at the earthrise anymore.” He waved his hand and the shaded, domed window automatically brightened. The colorless moonscape spread before them with Earth’s blue orb peeking from behind the distant mountains.

“Stark.”

Dril shook his head. “Look at the Earth, Babe. We’ll be going home before you know it. Think how much you’ll appreciate being back.”

“Are we there yet?”

“You’ve heard that you can’t go home again?”

“Watch me.”

Dril stood back. The moment had passed. “I’m going to go out and check the sensors.” He pointed to the counter stacked with various tools and gizmos. “Would you hand me the razzafraz?”

Myr looked at the disorderly mess Dril called his workbench. She picked up the tool on top of the others. “You mean this?”

“No. That’s the franaham… Next to the thingamajig.” Myr picked up another tool at random and held it up. “Thank you.” He took the tool from her and moved toward the airlock.

“Will you be long?”

“No. You know, routine maintenance. Never can say when some asteroid will wreak havoc on our survival systems.”

“I hate when that happens.”

Dril chuckled and ducked through the bulkhead door. He stepped into his suit, secured the safety devices and donned his helmet. Taking his time, he checked the vid-feed and sound system, a routine as ingrained and natural as brushing his teeth before bed. All systems were a ‘go’.

Not that Myr would be monitoring his progress. Lately, her heart wasn’t in it.

He checked the seals on the interior door and activated the exterior door. The small room filled with steam for a moment as the air froze and then escaped into the void.

Dril scanned the bright horizon. It still quickened him to take in this alien moonscape. It never changed. But he did. Each day, his perception of this perpetually static scene seemed fresh by what he brought to it. The frozen nature of it grounded him somehow.

And of course, he thought of what ‘phase’ they were in. He could never shake the earth-centric perspective. But now, Dril would also note Earth’s phase.

After watching Earth’s rise above the horizon, Dril checked the various monitors distributed around their home base and the outer shell of their home. With few variations, all seemed in order.

He chuckled at his own joke. “The barometer seems stuck. Weird, no air pressure at all.”

When on the frontier of space like this, Dril always celebrated an ordinary day.

Seeing the giant ‘S. O. S’ scrawled in the dust by Myr, always made him smile. That happened after their first few weeks on base.

Dril remembered watching her shuffling around in an aimless manner on the landing pad near their base camp. Or so he thought.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sending a message to anyone who might be paying attention,” she answered.

Then he recognized the letters, wide as Stonehenge. Gigantic letters to be read by someone, anyone above them in the sky.

They read, “S. O. S.” Sans serif.

He knew she meant it. Keeping her morale up kept him busy. That was his hardest job.

~

Myr watched the airlock door shut. Though a daily occurrence, seeing Dril go out distressed her. What if something happened to him?

Of course, she knew all the routines and procedures. But to be alone out here on this rock… She shuddered at the thought. At first, it seemed a romantic adventure. Like being on a desert island together. Dril called it their ‘dessert island’. She never imagined how desolate the whole thing would be.

Myr entered the conservatory. She spent most of her time there. The humidity, greenery, and oxygen-rich air kept her sane. She loved caring for the plants more than anything. They were her life.

She liked the sunshine streaming into the greenhouse. The windows filtered the harsh light to a level the plants could tolerate. And she had artificial light to accommodate the long lunar nights.

Though primarily their source of fresh food, Myr lobbied for authorization to also bring decorative and flowering plants to their outpost. She prevailed by arguing an environment lacking in beauty would be better tended by a robot. Myr insisted ‘practical’ was broader in scope than ‘edible.’ A garden could include a feast for the eye as well as her belly and wouldn’t unduly tax their limited resources.

Myr had maintained even a guinea pig deserves a home and not merely a box filled with hay. Someone agreed and Myr received permission to transport seeds of her choosing, within strict guidelines.

Now she had a garden, her little paradise. But without apples or snakes. She cared for it with a passion.

The apparently spontaneous generation of certain insects and pests amazed Myr. They required constant monitoring, lest they damage the food crops. Myr understood they must have stowed away on the seeds or the soil. They were unwitting aliens on this unwelcoming stone.

Curiously, there were also spiders, who allied with her to maintain a balance within the garden. Life begets life.

She gathered a variety of tomatoes and other ripe vegetables for their dinner.

Indicator lights and a signature chirp told Myr that Dril was back. She felt calmer now and went out to greet him.

Dril already stood in the living zone when Myr entered from the kitchen. He smiled at her and they embraced. However brief his sojourns outside, Dril’s homecoming always caused her joy.

Dril asked her, “Tell me, how do you know when the moon is full?”

“You never think it is full.”

“No. Work with me.”

“Oh, a joke. Uhm… it’s always half empty?”

“No. It says, ‘hold the cheese’.”

Myr did not react. The new joke felt very old.

“How about this…? What flavor is a ‘blue moon’?”

“Dril, I was feeling better…”

“Roquefort!”

“Please?”

“Alright… One of these days I’ll make you laugh.”

Myr shook her head. “When that happens, you’ll know I’ve become a bonafide lunatic.”

They looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter. They embraced and kissed warmly.

Dril looked into Myr’s eyes. “How do you do that? You always make me laugh.”

“My little secret, love. Let’s eat.”

They walked hand in hand into the kitchen.

Here’s some of MM’s latest artwork generations

The theme is closeness and intimacy, but those are flagged on the free subscription, so I performed some creative work-arounds.

Of course, figurative nudes, and tradition are in my interest set.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(22)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(21)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(14)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(11)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(8)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(7)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(9)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(6)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(5)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(4)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(4)

I’m sure I’ve told this story before…

Quite a number of years ago I was out shooting at a public range when a family showed up. Mom and dad, two kids, and even grandma.

They pile out of a pickup truck… and, well, to complete the visual here, they looked straight out of central casting as a Mariachi band. Now, I’m like “you do your thing, I’ll do mine”, but to say that this group was attention getting understates it by several orders of magnitude.

Dad had some cowboy guns, a revolver and a lever action rifle. They also had a grand total of one set of hearing protection between all of them. No eyepro is present.

They proceed to set up their “targets”, which are just a bunch of milk cartons filled with dirt…. Whatever, it’s a public range and people shoot all sorts of random shit. The boy takes a couple of them downrange, sets them down, and steps about three paces to the side.

Dad starts blasting. Yes, kid is still downrange as fuck.

I immediately decide that I don’t want to have to deal with the paperwork when one of these idiots shoots someone, and start packing up. But I’m doing it slow, because I’m keeping one eye on these guys, and keeping my very loaded rifle slung and ready because I’m also somewhat concerned that I’m going to have to shoot one of these idiots myself if the stupidity level goes up another notch, and I want it to be very obvious that if they point a gun at me they are pointing a gun at a man with a clearly loaded AR.

After they blast some rounds in the dirt, the kid eventually comes back behind the line, and the kids pull out the revolver to take turns shooting.

The boy walks up to the line with the revolver and the girl sits on the bench next to him, looks right at him, and I see the next few moments in slow motion. The boy pulls the trigger and the girl gets an absolute face full of cylinder gap, and screams.

I chose that moment to exit, stage left, but that whole scene is burned into my brain, as assuradly as hot gas was burned into that poor girls eyes.

Hunter Discovers 29 Human Body Parts in the Desert

https://youtu.be/AFboKFzJza4

Cabbage Rolls

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6c9b892ba8104b45be3f29e6169b50a0

Ingredients

  • 12 large leaves cabbage
  • 1 cup cooked white rice
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 1/4 cup milk
  • 1/4 cup minced onion
  • 1 pound extra-lean ground beef
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons salt
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons ground black pepper
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

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xr:d:DAGAaqI9iis:37,j:8728398767535521041,t:24032415

Instructions

  1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Boil cabbage leaves 2 minutes, just until pliable; drain.
  2. In large bowl, combine rice, egg, milk, onion, ground beef, salt and pepper.
  3. Place about 1/4 cup of meat mixture in center of each cabbage leaf, and roll up, tucking in ends. Place rolls in slow cooker, seam side down.
  4. In a small bowl, mix together tomato sauce, brown sugar, lemon juice and Worcestershire sauce. Pour over cabbage rolls.
  5. Cover, and cook on LOW for 8 to 9 hours.

Foreign Woman Meets American Women & NOW Understands Why Passport Bros Exist!

The look on their faces when she said she understood why men are traveling out the states. The salt was real in that room!!!

She has no choice but to fly away; the country has already fallen into a downward spiral.

On the surface, the recent unrest in Bangladesh appears to be due to civil service positions being skewed in favor of military families, but this is just a trigger. Even if there were zero reserved positions for military families, there would still be hundreds of thousands of university graduates competing for very few positions.

The essence of the problem is economic decline and public dissatisfaction.

Bangladesh is in deep trouble.

Firstly, there is a population explosion. With such a small land area, it has 170M people. China has a large population, but Bangladesh’s population density is nearly ten times that of China! Russia’s land area is 116 times that of Bangladesh, yet its population is 30 million less.

The total population of these red areas on Earth, compressed into a very small point, is Bangladesh.

With such a large population, the vast majority are engaged in agriculture, which has very low added value.

Bangladesh is the second most disaster-prone country in the world (the first is the Philippines).

Previously, population growth was slow, relying entirely on the harsh adjustment of natural disasters.

During the last major famine, 10 million out of a population of 40 million in Bangladesh died of starvation.

After entering the modern era, pesticides, high-yield seeds, fertilizers, and vaccines have caused a sharp increase in the agricultural population.

Unlike China, which has implemented family planning policies, a democratically elected government in Bangladesh cannot do the same. As a result, the population continues to grow while land area remains fixed, and frequent natural disasters make it difficult to develop a secondary industry on a large scale.

The world’s largest and most dangerous ship-breaking yard is in Bangladesh, but it can only accommodate 200,000 workers, and the value added to production is extremely low.

The country’s pillar industry, the textile industry, has little technological content and faces extremely fierce international competition.

In fact, it is at the bottom of the international division of labor.

Another mistake is the excessive emphasis on higher education. At this stage, the country should focus more on basic education rather than higher education.

After receiving higher education, many young people are unwilling to settle for low-income jobs.

What’s worse is that the country has invested significant resources in cultivating a highly educated population, but most of them are liberal arts graduates.

In China, for example, when I was taking the college entrance exam, the ratio of STEM students to liberal arts students was about 8:1 to 9:1.

There was even some discrimination against liberal arts students at that time; those who failed to compete in STEM fields were the ones considering studying liberal arts.

Even today, the ratio of STEM students to liberal arts students in China is still about 1:1, and STEM students generally have better job prospects and salaries compared to liberal arts students.

(To this day, on the Chinese Internet, the phrase “Are you a liberal arts student?” is still clearly mocking and contemptuous.)

(I believe Vietnam should also learn from this. Today, in Vietnam, the ratio of STEM majors to liberal arts majors is about 1:2, which is far too high for liberal arts students.)

With so many liberal arts graduates, who have broad perspectives, they are naturally unwilling to engage in hard work after graduation, leading to unrest.

Democratic governments and parliamentary politics are not very suitable for late-developing countries.

If Bangladesh cannot make the most of the remaining value of manual labor before AI and automation technologies become dominant, and cannot push for more industrialization, the future of Bangladesh will be very concerning.

Diggin for fun and other’s profit

I once took a couple of anthropology and archeology courses at Gannon University to flush out my humanity requirements at Syracuse.

These were fun courses, and I pretty much spent all Summer digging up old relics and stuff from the past in and around Erie, PA. Lot’s and lots of “arrow heads”, “scrapers” and ancient hearths.

We would sometimes go on remote digs, perhaps an hour or two drive out of our way.

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15e07fd562395bae3f37ca1f711bd6c5

In one such dig we encountered a few coins.

We carefully dug them up, and duly recorded them. Ah. It was a grand discovery!

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48398b65d056533840445b982895d158

Because of their location, and the history, we suspected that a hoard must have been buried nearby. But it was getting late, so we all packed up and left.

The dig was an old 1700’s era trading center with one main house and a few low buildings. All were long gone, but we were digging there because a damming of the local stream would cause the entire location to be under water.

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c96d4ada847659bb553a99b617291590

We came back the next day, and some dunder-head (maybe the dig supervisors) came with a metal detector and unearthed quite a hoard.

We didn’t actually know, but given the size of the hole, perhaps 200 to 300 old coins.

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623f38f61b494a19ad23e188fd2bd6c9

*Sigh.*

I would have loved to be part of that discovery. Now, some leach that sat by on the sidelines took the swag that we so carefully researched and dug up.

It’s like Working for a corporation in America, eh?

You do the labor. Someone else gets the swag.

*sigh*

Still, I enjoyed the experiences, and they were really fun and interesting to me. I will never forget them. If you all have an opportunity to, take a course in this kind of stuff a the local community college. You might discover how much fun that you will have. I’ll tell you what.

Today…

Have you ever been in the presence of a celebrity but didn’t know who they were at the time?

About 5 years ago, I was delivering food, in the Dallas area. I knocked on the door of an apartment, and a bald headed, muscular man answered. He told me the food wasn’t supposed to come there, but he didn’t seem too upset. I gathered that he had ordered for someone else, but neglected to change the address. But anyhoo, he asked if I’d like a tip. Sure! I replied. He starts digging in his wallet, and I’m expecting a couple of bucks. He pulls out a nice, crisp Benjamin ($100 bill). Now that’s a pretty generous tip, for an order that wasn’t for him in the first place. Then he starts looking, with very penetrating blue eyes, at me, and says “ Remember me. I’m Steve”.

I don’t follow wrestling, but known people who have. I believe it was Stone Cold Austin. Why he was alone in an apartment (not a luxury apartment, but not a crappy one, somewhere in the middle) in Dallas I dunno. He is from Texas (I researched him afterwards), but Victoria, on the Gulf side of the state. Perhaps he had a girlfriend there, or one of his kids, or just a hideaway, when in Dallas. The bill was genuine. It spent at the self checkout at Kroger.

The Thing (1982) | *First Time Watching* | Movie Reaction | Asia and BJ

This.

So I was reading a book called ‘The eyes of darkness’. And another called ‘end of days’.

This book was written in 1981. (Keep this info in mind). It talks about a virus coming in 2020, from China, wuhan and some of it (not all) seems all too familiar. I just found it interesting.

Now I’m not saying the book is all correct. Maybe it’s just probability or coincidence. I think everyone has different beliefs, the virus hasn’t suddenly disappeared yet, but we’re not at the stage where the end is near.

Everyone thinks differently, I’m into conspiracy theories and bipolar doesn’t help, maybe I’m delusional. Not sure, take from it, what you will 🙂

I just posted because I thought it was interesting, it is a fictional book after all.

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main qimg 5c8e84d6d420fb165eade2500e373a41 lq
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main qimg 8e1d075db865ddb670a51958f214ed91 lq
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main qimg a7a8433c86be95b0fd5f3cfb938f6a57 lq
 
 
 

Here’s the book if you want to read it. It also predicts mental health issues being the worst and the most increased in the 21st century and a bunch of other stuff which has actually happened.

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main qimg cb1c6229cceb3a06ec3568e2c329fccb lq
 
 

Edit: I think the comments are clearly missing my point, as usual (this is quora after all). Yes, there’s plenty of predictions and it’s probably just by chance. Yes not all of them are spot on. I never said this was fact, as it’s a fictional book. I just found it interesting ffs. Not saying you have to believe it. Maybe it’s my bipolar or too many punches I’ve had, like many rudely told me in the comments 😂

Some of these comments, which I’ve reported have been horrible and personally attacking. I didn’t know something I found interesting could offend someone that much😂😁.

I just found it interesting, calm yourself 😉

Putin SHOCKED The WORLD! Russia Dealt a Cold-Blooded BLOW on the U.S. in ARCTIC!

This is from cracked.com, whose writers always seem to be able to find the strangest examples I could never even dream of

In the late 1960s, Leonard Casley grew way too much wheat, which could only ever be a serious problem if you live in Australia. You see, Australia had wheat quotas at the time and Hutt River (the province where Casley and other families grew) had inadvertently surpassed it, meaning they weren’t allowed to sell any of it. When they petitioned for the quota to be raised, the governor responded by saying, “No,” and filing a law to take their land away. THAT’S how serious Australians are about wheat.

In a desperate attempt to delay the legal process, the five families of Hutt River seceded from Australia under the Treason Act of 1495. This would have been as pointless as that time you were five and told your mom you were leaving home… if the government hadn’t accidentally referred to Casley as “Administrator of Hutt River Province” in official correspondence, which actually gave him legal recognition as a ruler under Australian law. Yes, in Australia, calling someone something magically turns them into that.

Taking full of advantage of the mistake, Casley declared himself His Majesty Prince Leonard I of Hutt, meaning it was now treason, under Australian law, to charge him with any crime or interfere with how he ran his new country.

Could Australia have stopped him? Sure. But by the time they got around to it, the statute of limitations had run out. So as of 1972, The Principality of Hutt River had officially seceded from Australia and stopped paying income taxes.

As of the modern day, Hutt River is still separate, while Australia treats it as a private business that doesn’t pay them taxes and just tries, really hard, to pretend it’s not there.

Jumpin’ Jack Chili

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

Chili

  • 1 cup onion, diced
  • 1 teaspoon olive oil
  • 1 (4 ounce) can chopped green chiles, undrained
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • 2 (15 ounce) cans great Northern beans, drained and rinsed
  • 3 1/2 cups chicken broth
  • 2 cups cooked chicken, chopped (rotisserie chicken can be used)
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) Wisconsin Monterey Jack Cheese*, coarsely grated and divided
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) Wisconsin Colby Cheese, coarsely grated and divided

Toppings

  • Crushed corn chips, sour cream, chopped green onions, olives, chopped tomatoes, oyster crackers, goldfish crackers, bacon

Instructions

  1. Cook onion in hot oil in heavy stock pan (Dutch oven) over medium-high heat, stirring until tender.
  2. Add green chiles, garlic and cumin; cook 2 minutes, stirring constantly.
  3. Add beans and chicken broth, stirring well. Bring to boil; reduce heat, and simmer for 20 minutes.
  4. Add chicken, 1/2 cup Monterey Jack and 1/2 cup Colby Cheese; simmer over low heat for 10 minutes more.
  5. Ladle chili into bowls. Top each serving with remaining cheeses and desired toppings.

Notes

* Or use Pepper Jack or Jalapeño Jack

Why Eastern Europe Is Safer And Better To Raise A Family In Than The West

Who is behind the coup? We as an outsider dont know yet.

I only notice 1 thing:

Bangladesh went to China & signed an infrastructure deal with China.

The moment she went home, she tore the deal with China & accepted a contract/agreement with India to build a bridge or something.

Case closed, we thought No, a riot/coup broke out.

Both USA & India are notorious to instigate riots/coups in other countries so as to make others bow down to them. USA, global. India, southern Asia. Both do assassination too.

History will tell us who is the culprit. Let us wait.

Sri Lanka experienced a riot too when it joined an infrastructure project with China. It took a few years before the truth surfaced, after American scholars did a research. In the case of Sri Lanka, it was India who instigated the riot. But it was USA who spread the fake news re Debt Trap. Now the Debt Trap has proven fake after 10 years. But riots/coups still can happen.

On the Way to Paradise

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

 

Cory Pines

“You told me this would be a short trip. We’ve been on this wretched ship for twelve years!” Halo roared.”I know, but I broke the digital map and-“”I don’t care what happened! I paid you a good handful of money and I expected to be home long before now!”Halo had the perfect life back on Earth, but he just had to pay Mirabella almost three billion to take him to Tariphor, the most beautiful paradise planet in the galaxy. The trip was only supposed to be nine years in total, but the journey to Tariphor had stretched out to twelve! Halo had spent most of the time in hypersleep, but they had recently hit some strange turbulence that woke him.”Sir, I told you before we left that I was only an amateur pilot. I just got out of flight school, too,” Mirabella tried to explain.”That was twelve years ago! You should be better by now, Mire,” Halo complained.

They had left Earth when Halo was only 23 years old. He had spent his golden years of life in hypersleep and he was just as close to Tariphor as he was when still on Earth’s surface.

Mirabella wasn’t that happy about it either. She was 19 when they left and, unlike Halo, had actually begun to age. She wished she could’ve been the one frozen in some fancy tank. She missed her family more than anything, wishing she could just turn around and head back to Earth, but she didn’t know which way home was anymore.

“Well, what would you like me to do about it?” Mirabella asked. She didn’t mean for it to sound as angry as it did, and was simply curious, as she had run out of things to try and was willing to do anything to get back home.

“Well, you’re the pilot. You should know what you’re doing!”

“If you don’t have anything to contribute, you can just go back to bed,” Mirabella stated flatly.

“You’re insane if you think you can tell me, the youngest self-made multi-billionaire, what to do,” Halo said, “Now, where can I get a bite to eat?”

“We ran out of food three days ago,” Mirabella admitted.

“Were you not rationing it properly?” Halo asked.

“I made food for nine years last for twelve, I think I did a fine job rationing,” Mirabella said defensively.

“What about that?” Halo asked. He pointed to a small blue cube placed on the chair next to Mirabella’s. He had never seen anything like it, but it looked a little like Jell-O. He hoped it was edible. After all, the backlash of waking up from hypersleep gave him quite the appetite.

“Don’t you dare try to eat him. he’s some sort of space creature, not food. I think he’s sleeping,” Mirabella said.

“It looks delicious.”

“You’ll probably flip your organs inside-out if you eat him. Then, I’ll have to find a way to revive you, and suddenly kill you again for your stupid decision… After that, I’ll revive you a second time since I really don’t want to be alone in the endless abyss of space.”

“Could you even do that?”

“Not at all. In reality, you’d just stay dead,” she shrugged.

“How did this thing even get on the ship?” Halo asked.

Just as Halo was finished speaking, the blue Jell-O like creature, opened its eyes. They were huge, covering half the creature’s boxy face. It hopped up onto Mirabella’s shoulder.

“I let him in,” Mirabella said.

“What if that creature tries to kill us?” Halo asked.

“He’s, like, five inches tall. How would he?” she asked.

Halo eyed the creature warily. He didn’t really trust the thing, but Mirabella was right; it was small and Halo knew he could easily overpower it if he needed to.

“At least tell me you didn’t name it,” Halo said.

Mirabella didn’t answer.

“Oh my God, why? Why in the world would you name it?” Halo asked.

“I call him Berry,” Mirabella admitted, fiddling with her hands.

The creature, Berry, looked up at Mirabella when he heard his name. Halo watched as the creature snuggled down and began to purr. He had to admit that Berry was cute, but that still didn’t mean he trusted the thing.

“You shared our food with it,” Halo said.

“I couldn’t just let him starve!” Mirabella replied.

“I mean, you could’ve. Then at least I would have something to eat,” Halo said. Halo was a little upset that Mirabella cared more about feeding a space creature than a human that paid her three billion dollars.

“Come on, just look at him, he’s so cute,” Mirabella said. Mirabella picked the creature up off of her shoulder and held it in her hands.

“I don’t see it,” Halo said.

Suddenly, a loud buzzer went off and the ship started to flash red.

“What in the world is happening!” Halo shouted over the buzzer.

“I don’t know, the ship hasn’t acted like this since the map broke!” Mirabella shouted back, “I need you to hold him.” She passed Berry over to Halo who took it slowly and held it as far away from his body as possible.

Mirabella rushed over to the control panel and began to fidget with the levers and buttons. Halo approached her slowly, still holding Berry at arm’s length, to watch.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I can’t tell, just give me a sec,” Mirabella replied.

At that point, Berry hopped out of Halo’s hands and landed on a small square button. Suddenly the sound stopped, though the lights of the ship were still flashing.

“I know what it is,” Mirabella said.

“What, what is it?” Halo asked, dying to know.

“We’re almost out of fuel, the ship is warning us that we need to find somewhere to land,” Mirabella explained.

Halo looked around the ship and through the large windows. Outside all he saw was blackness, stars, and the occasional comet, not of which were big enough for their ship.

“How can we do that, there is nothing but space out there!” Halo shouted.

“Duh there is nothing but space. We’re in space, Halo!” Mirabella shouted in response.

“We’re going to crash, we are going to crash and I am going to die. I still had my whole life ahead of me. Finding a partner, raising a family, adopting a hundred and one cats just because I can,” Halo complained. He began to pace back and forth, rushing his hands through his hair as he spoke.

“You’re probably right,” Mirabella said, “I don’t think there is any way for us to survive this.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear!” Halo shouted. He paused from the pacing to face Mirabella, “Instead of living out my perfect life, I am going to die in space. With nothing but you and that creature to keep me company.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do instead?” Mirabella asked.

“I don’t know Mire, I’m not a pi- hold on what is that thing doing?”

Mirabella turned to see than Berry’s Jell-O like skin was changing from blue to red. He was also growing.

“He’s never done that before,” Mirabella admitted.

They stood back as Berry grew more and more until he went from 5 inches tall, to 5 feet. The thing was huge.

“What do we do, what do we do?” Halo asked, quickly hiding behind Mirabella.

Mirabella slowly walked up to Berry with her arm outstretched. The cube eyed her cautiously as she reached out and placed her hand on its head. That must have really ticked him off because his skin began to change quickly between colors, and it seemed to scream out in pain. Mirabella quickly backed up to the edge of the ship were Halo was cowering.

“What did you do?” Halo shouted.

“I just touched him,” Mirabella said.

“That’s it, we’re going to die,” Halo said.

“Yes, we already agreed on that.”

“Mire, we need to get outta here,” Halo said.

“We can’t leave Berry though, he’s my friend!” Mirabella said.

“Your friend is a space monster, now come on!” Halo announced.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her through the ship’s door to the hypersleep pods. He quickly locked the door behind him and only seconds later they heard a Jell-O like squish banging on the door over and over.

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Halo asked.

“Maybe we can just let Berry in and the three of us can talk it out,” Mirabella suggested.

“Mire, I’m not sure if you’ve realized this or not, but that thing is trying to murder us,” Halo said.

“He’s just scared,” Mirabella said.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, that thing is trying to murder us!” Halo said, his voice rising until he was shouting at her.

“This is all your fault. If you had never woken up, Berry wouldn’t be so upset,” Mirabella stated.

“My fault, you think this is my fault? You were the one that woke me up when you hit turbulence, you have no one to blame but yourself,” Halo replied.

“Maybe you should have been nicer to Berry.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have brought on a weird space creature.”

“Maybe you should-” before she could finish, the door was knocked down and the giant, now green, Berry bounced into the room.

“What do we do, and don’t try and approach it again, that just made it angrier,” Halo said.

“Hey, Berry,” Mirabella said, “How are you buddy. I know that Halo can be kinda mean sometimes-”

“Hey!”

“Shut up,” she whispered harshly before continuing, “But just because he’s a little mean, it doesn’t mean you should kill him. We can talk through this, I just need you to shrink back down, okay buddy?”

The creature took a step closer to the two humans. Halo grabbed Mirabella’s hand and tried to pull her back to him, but she stayed standing in front of Berry.

“I don’t think this is working…” Halo said.

“What do you suggest we do instead, we are going to die anyway, either by this creature or by crashing!” Mirabella shouted.

“So we should just give up?” Halo asked.

“Why not? It’s not like we have anything left to fight for. Even if by some miracle we manage to get out of this, we still have no idea how to get home,” Mirabella said.

“We can figure that out,” Halo said. He couldn’t explain this sudden spark of hope came from, but he really didn’t want to die here, especially at the hands of a blue cube. He wished he would have thrown out the cube while it was still small, but it was too late now for ‘what if’s.’

“I’m gonna let him eat me,” Mirabella said. She yanked her hand away from Halo’s grasp and stood her ground.

“You’re gonna what?” Halo asked, shocked.

“I let him onto this ship, the least I can do for it is provide him with a final meal,” Mirabella said.

“What about your family?” Halo asked, trying to convince her to stay.

“It’s been twelve years! Halo, what’s even the point of going back, nothing will be how it was. People have probably forgotten all about us,” Mirabella said.

“How could anyone forget about me?” Halo asked.

“Halo, listen, we don’t have a plan to get back to Earth. We don’t have a plan to land the ship. We don’t have a plan to calm down Berry-”

“We could kill him,” Halo suggested.

“We are not killing him. My point is, in the last moments of our life, we might as well do something for this little creature.”

“I wouldn’t call him little anymore.”

“Are you with me or not?” Mirabella asked.

She held out her hand for Halo to take. This was insane! He couldn’t believe that he was actually thinking about joining her. Mirabella was crazy to even want to let Berry eat the two of them, and yet, Halo couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her hand.

Mirabella smiled before the two of them turned to face Berry. Halo closed his eyes as they walked towards the creature. He could feel himself being absorbed into it before he lost all control over his body and blacked out.

Halo awoke with a gasp, he was breathing heavy. Did he really just do that? Was he dead? Was this heaven? He was sitting in a bed, hospitalized. He looked around the see Mirabella was laying in the bed next to him. There were wires and tubes all around them, some of them going into his body.

Then Halo spotted it. Berry was sitting on the nightstand, once again five inches tall. He had taken back his original blue color and was staring up at Halo. Where was he? Had this all just a dream?

The door to the room opened and a doctor walked in holding a clipboard.

“Ah, Mr. Tharen, you’re up,” the doctor said.

“Please, call me Halo, and can you explain to me what happened?” Halo asked.

“Of course,” she began to walk around the room, checking the tubes and making small notes of her clipboard, “It’s been fourteen years since you left Earth, though, by the looks of it, you barely aged a day. Most people here thought that you were dead, died in a crash or something, but two weeks ago, this creature-” she nodded her head over to Berry- “brought you back. We’ve been reviving you and Miss Miller ever since.”

“You mean to tell me that creature… saved me?” Halo asked.

“Yes, it appears to have a soft spot for you. It never even left your side. Tell me, are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?” the doctor asked.

“Just some water,” Halo said.

The doctor left. Halo turned and stared at Berry who just stared back blankly. A small smile appeared on Halo’s face.

“Thanks,” he whispered, “Thanks for bringing us home.”

Neocons closer than ever to war with Iran

There was once a time where doe-eyed Americans thought that capitalism was a just system that rewarded hard work and innovation. Supply was dictated by demand. Seemed simple, right?

Then Ronald Reagan came along and lowered corporate taxes from 70% to 28%. The theory was that companies would make more money and those profits would “trickle down” to the consumers.

What ACTUALLY happened was that corporations could now set whatever prices they wanted and the rich could store their wealth in offshore tax havens. The money would get to the top and be shipped overseas, only to be used by the wealthy to influence policy, and further exploit the worker in exchange for lavish lifestyles and ridiculous qualities of life.

The government continues to subsidize oil companies despite them posting record profits year after year. Why is the government doing this? Hmm….

Gas and oil prices can come down 30% and the suppliers would still make a profit, but the consumers would enjoy a better quality of life. That’s not what the rich want. They want more. It doesn’t matter if the poor suffer, they’re getting theirs.

The president has nothing to do with gas prices other than to propose policies to congress that would regulate those prices more… but then lobbyists come along and petition representatives to ignore regulations and increase tax cuts. trump cut taxes to companies from 35% to 21% and we lost 2–3 trillion dollars (depending on who you ask) from the budget. That money went straight to the top, but congress will tell you that adding 2 trillion to the federal budget in the form of healthcare and student loan forgiveness is unsustainable.

Know what’s unsustainable? UNFETTERED FUCKING CAPITALISM! That’s what.

Bernie has only been perfectly correct for about 45 years now.

MM’s latest works

Still playing around. Lots of nudes, and trying to mess around a bit with historical themes.

Angels…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(17)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)
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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)

Ancient Chinese rulers…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(14)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(13)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(13)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(13)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(13)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(12)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(12)

Crete and cooking…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(11)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(11)

Female Bacchus….

@@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(7)
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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(7)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(7)

Same theme, but at a pool taking orders from a cat.

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(6)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(6)

Now as a man, instead of a woman…

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(5)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(5)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(4)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(4)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(4)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(4)

Russia successfully tests ” Burevestnik ” global range cruise missile, US panics

1.) Do you recognize what is this place?

Old Summer Palace – Wikipedia

Here is the description from wikipedia:

Widely perceived as the pinnacle work of Chinese imperial garden and palace design, the Old Summer Palace was known for its extensive collection of gardens, its building architecture and numerous art and historical treasures. Constructed throughout the 18th and early 19th centuries, the Old Summer Palace was the main imperial residence of Qianlong Emperor of the Qing dynasty and his successors, and where they handled state affairs..

This was looted and destroyed by the joint Anglo-French expedition in 1860 in the opium wars of the British against the Chinese. If you visit a French or English museum, one can count how many of those museum items came from the Old summer Palace. It is difficult to grasp the implication of this by just looking into the ruins in the picture. This is almost an equivalent of destroying an area and significance almost as big as the National Mall in Washington with all its buildings including the White House.

Here is a reconstruction of what might the Old Summer Palace looks like today if it was not destroyed.

 
 

In 1890, 35 years after the destruction of the Yuanming Yuan (圆明园) (the Chinese name of the Old summer palace), Japan seized the opportunity of the weaken Qing China and seized Taiwan and repeatedly attacked China all the way to WW2.

2.) Do you know why the Chinese authorities did not attempt to rebuild this place even today with all the wealth by China? Nor did the authorities convert this valuable real estate into something profitable development area. This is to teach the Chinese and future Chinese descendants how much the country was humiliated and suffered by foreign powers when the country was very weak. See that green area here, all of those are part of the old summer palace. That is how valuable this real estate is relative to its surroundings.

The Chinese diaspora to all over the world in the late 1800s to early 1900s, is the testament of how much the Chinese people are suffering by foreign hands.

3.) In 1949, a glimmer of hope arose in China and unified once again this ancient culture. A peasant named Mao Zedong, against all odds was able to unify China after the bloody Civil war. It took almost a century from the Opium wars until in 1949 that there was a sense of unity and hope in this ancient land.

4.) In 1950, Mao tried very hard to recover Taiwan from the retreating Nationalist forces, but the Korean war erupted and US and UN forces pushes all the way to Yalu river and war was knocking in China doorsteps. The Chinese leadership was forced to respond to the Korean war. Thus the campaign to recover Taiwan was pushed back. The Korean war, and the loss of mainland China to the communist, lead to an isolation of China from the 1950s to 1970s.

5.) Fast forward today in 2021, Taiwan is still not reunited to China. Foreign forces are still colluding to make Taiwan separate from China. This collusion of foreign forces, the Anglos, the Japanese and now the US, is the same theme as it was when Qing China was attacked, bullied and humiliated in the Opium wars.

Sure some or most young Chinese within China or the descendants of the Chinese diaspora outside China do not care anymore with this historical event that happened 170 years ago. But if you talk to Chinese parents or grandparents how their parents and grandparents suffered because of this foreign humiliation, you will realize almost all Chinese two to four generations ago suffered so much and paid dearly to unite China. Personally, I will never forget how my grandfather told me his story that they have to remove the leather of the shoes, put some water to have something to eat during those Japanese invasions. He told me this story when I was 10 or 11 years old, and I also tell this to my children. They sacrificed so much for us Chinese descendants to have better lives than they had. These kind of stories are repeated in millions of Chinese.

The division of China and Taiwan is the reminder of the imperialism of foreign powers. The remaining symbol of suffering of the Chinese people. This is even visible with North and South Korea, which echo the same thing, division of people of same culture because of foreign imperialism.

So these are the historical, cultural and emotional reasons why Taiwan must be reunited to China. It is the remnant of the humiliation and suffering of the Chinese people from foreign powers. Uniting Taiwan back to China will provide a closure of this painful past.

Joe Rogan: “What They Just Found Hidden In Egypt SHOCKED U.S. Scientists”

 

I am a Chinese national. George Orwell’s novel *1984* paints a bleak picture of a totalitarian regime. My son first encountered this novel in the fifth grade. He gave up after reading only 15 pages. He told me that the book felt overwhelmingly gray, like the color of concrete, which left him feeling depressed and unable to continue.

If you’ve read this novel, you can always sense the oppressive nature of totalitarianism through its myriad details: the dilapidated living conditions, the meager food rations, the extreme control over language, the state-level lies, and the eradication of sexual desire.

This book is perhaps revered by anti-communists worldwide. During the Soviet era, it was lauded as a vivid portrayal of Stalin’s rule. After the Soviet Union’s collapse, it has occasionally been used by critics of China as a metaphorical critique.

Coincidentally, today marks the first sunny day in my city, Xuzhou, after several days of heavy rain. The blue sky and sunshine felt especially precious after the long spell of gloom. While driving to the supermarket at noon, I noticed several pedestrians taking photos of the Xuzhou sky with their phones. I joined them, taking pictures at every traffic light.

Interestingly, these photos inadvertently captured street scenes of Xuzhou. Let’s compare Orwell’s depiction with these freshly taken photos (just two hours ago) and see if you can find any hints of “China lacking freedom” in them(Since I took the photos through my car window, the UV-protective glass filtered some of the sunlight, making the colors in the images appear slightly darker).

I was driving on Zhongshan Road in downtown Xuzhou, named in honor of Sun Yat-sen, the founder of the Republic of China. Yes, the same Dr. Sun Yat-sen whom the Taiwanese refer to as the “Father of the Nation.” You can see the Audi and Volkswagen cars in front of me, both with green license plates. In China, there are three colors for license plates: blue for gasoline-powered cars, yellow for trucks, and green for electric vehicles (EVs). In my city, EVs are rapidly replacing traditional gasoline cars. Ordinary Chinese people have dozens of car brands to choose from.In recent years, promoting environmental protection, ecological preservation, and love for the Earth has been one of the primary focuses of the Chinese government’s public campaigns through all forms of media:

 

The square building on the right is the largest bookstore in our city. The first to seventh floors are open to the public, while the upper floors are office spaces. The bookstore is called “Xinhua Bookstore,” which means “New China Bookstore.” It is currently the largest bookstore chain in China. This place holds the fondest memories of my childhood; I always asked my father to take me there every weekend to read, though we rarely bought any books because we were very poor. Nowadays, children don’t see buying books as a joyful experience. To attract more visitors, this bookstore has dedicated areas for foreign imports and textbooks, along with numerous seating areas, bakeries, and cafes where customers can sit on sofas, enjoy some cake, and read books:

 

This 52-story skyscraper is the tallest building in Xuzhou. It is designed as five skyscrapers of varying heights arranged in a specific pattern. The other four buildings, which are only 15-20 stories tall, are obscured by the taller structures. This design was inspired by the shape of Buddha’s hand in Buddhist tradition. The skyscraper is a commercial complex that includes a hotel, shopping mall, dining center, office spaces, an ice rink, a cinema, and more. It is the fashion hub of Xuzhou. Some film companies occasionally recruit fashionable girls there. The building is named “Suning Tower.” “Suning” means “sun” in English, and in Chinese, it signifies “peace in Jiangsu Province.” The investor, a large home appliance retail chain, is based in the capital of Jiangsu Province.

At night, the entire glass facade of Suning Tower transforms into a screen, displaying commercials and messages of love throughout the night. Yes, if you spend some money, you can have your girlfriend’s photo or name projected onto this giant screen, letting the whole city see your love for her:

 

The black skyscraper in the center of the image is currently under construction. This building is being funded by the famous Chinese food company “Yurun Group.” Unfortunately, shortly after completing the podium, the group experienced a financial crisis and filed for bankruptcy protection. This left the skyscraper’s fate uncertain. After a two-year halt in construction, a government-funded investment company took over the project and partnered with the renowned Chinese commercial enterprise “DeJi” for its development. As a result, the building was rapidly completed and is now set to open soon. With approximately 60 floors, it will surpass Suning Tower to become the tallest building in Xuzhou:

 

I checked the temperature, and it’s 37 ℃ outside the car. When I was a child, this would have been unimaginable. The many days of heavy rain haven’t cooled the weather. As soon as the sun comes out, the temperature quickly rises to an unbearable level:

 

The building on the left is the city’s “University Student Entrepreneurship Service Center.” Xuzhou is home to several universities, including China University of Mining and Technology, Jiangsu Normal University, Xuzhou Medical University, Jiangsu University of Technology, and Xuzhou Institute of Technology. Each year, a large number of graduates are welcomed. The government encourages them to use the skills they acquired in university to start small businesses. Most students receive loans based on their business plans, with varying amounts of funding. These loans, provided by the government, come with low or zero interest rates, aiming to help young entrepreneurs develop competitive businesses. Key industries in Xuzhou include pharmaceuticals, construction machinery, and polysilicon:

 

The Current Status of the Deji Plaza Construction:

 

On the left side, you’ll find a hotel and an art school. The high-rise on the right is a continuing education college affiliated with a university. Since the main campus is located far from the city center, the university has rented this building in the city to make it more convenient for students to attend classes during their spare time:

 

One of the businesses is a travel agency called “International Travel Agency,” indicating that it handles outbound travel services. The other is a store that specializes in selling “wǔ liáng yè,(五粮液)” a renowned Chinese brand of liquor. This is a high-proof spirit:

 

Crossing this intersection leads to Jianguo Road, the financial district of Xuzhou. The street is lined with banks, numbering in the dozens. In China, banks are categorized into three types: state-owned banks, private banks, and foreign banks. The tiered building visible in the photo is a branch of the Agricultural Bank of China in Xuzhou.

The pink high-rise behind it, along with the surrounding streets, is Xuzhou’s computer products district. During the PC boom, the pink building was a favorite spot for local youth. Many young people, obsessed with the internet, would play games at night and sleep during the day. Some restaurants capitalized on this trend by staying open late to cater to those working in the internet industry. Although PCs have been replaced by mobile internet and business in the computer district has declined, the nearby restaurants continue to thrive and have become one of Xuzhou’s popular food districts:

 

Xuzhou Metro Line 2’s “Xima Tai Station.” Xuzhou currently has six metro lines, with three already in operation and the other three under construction. Additionally, there are plans for four more lines that are currently under government review. In China, only the State Council has the authority to give final approval for metro projects. This is because metro construction requires a substantial investment, and once operational, it necessitates ongoing large expenditures. As a public transportation system, it may not be profitable. Therefore, only cities that meet stringent criteria in terms of size, population, economic output, and traffic volume are eligible to apply for metro projects.

The name of this metro station is “Xì Mǎ Tái,(戏马台)” which is a historical site. About 2,200 years ago,Xiàng Yǔ(项羽), a renowned monarch and tragic hero of the Han Dynasty, trained his war horses on a nearby hill. Since then, the phrase “training war horses in the cold autumn wind” has become a well-known Chinese idiom. In Chinese, this story is written as “秋风戏马,(qiū fēng xì mǎ)” which evokes the image of a hero, aware of his inevitable failure, preparing diligently with his horses amidst the chilly autumn wind, ready to face the battle without fear of death:

 

This is the “Street Police Station” in Xuzhou. This small glass booth serves as a police station and is set up at several major intersections. There are three main purposes for these stations:(1)They enable quick dispatch to handle emergencies and sudden incidents.(2)Each station is equipped with multifunctional computer systems where citizens can manage various personal affairs, such as reporting or applying for an ID card, handling traffic accident reports, obtaining government documents, applying for passports, and dealing with driving-related matters.(3)They also provide amenities like hot water, common medications, air pumps, umbrellas, and reading glasses for the public’s use.

I am familiar with these police stations because they have a fourth function: traffic violation education. I once forgot to wear a helmet while riding my electric bike and was required by the police to attend a 40-minute traffic safety education session via online video at this station. Sometimes, people must also complete an online test on their phones before they are “released”:

 

After turning left at the intersection, I entered Liberation Road. The Yellow River crosses this road, and China’s first major east-west railway line, the “Longhai Railway,” also runs across it. Consequently, a bridge and a railway underpass have become major traffic congestion points. A few years ago, the Xuzhou city government constructed an overpass that spans above both the Yellow River Bridge and the Longhai Railway Bridge, effectively alleviating the traffic congestion in the area.

During the construction of the overpass, there was a small “protest.” Before the new overpass could be built, an old bridge over the Yellow River, known as the “Dike Bridge,” needed to be demolished. The name “Dike Bridge” carried historical significance. However, after the new bridge was completed, the government named it something new. Local residents disagreed and prevented the construction workers from installing the new nameplate. In the end, the government yielded to the protest and restored the name “Dike Bridge” out of respect for its historical importance:

 

I originally planned to capture images of drug users, robbers, people urinating in public, slums, and thieves in Xuzhou. Unfortunately, I can’t photograph things that don’t exist. So, I ended up taking random photos and sharing an overview of an ordinary city in China with you. I apologize!

p.s.

My city, Xuzhou, is a tragic city. Historically, over 400 battles took place here among all the wars in China. It has been a military stronghold and a core area contested by ancient emperors. A Yuan Dynasty poet once described Xuzhou in his poem:

古徐州形胜,消磨尽、几英雄!

想铁甲重瞳,乌骓汗血,玉帐连空,

楚歌八千兵散,料梦魂应不到江东。

空有黄河如带,乱山回合云龙。

汉家陵阙起秋风,禾黍满关中。

更戏马台荒,画眉人远,燕子楼空。

人生百年如寄,且开怀,一饮尽千锺。

回首荒城斜日,倚栏目送飞鸿。

 

This is the translated version:

From ancient times, Xuzhou’s location has meant it could never escape the ravages of war. Countless heroes have lost their lives here!

The general, clad in iron armor and riding a host of prized horses, had barracks so vast they seemed to stretch into the clouds. When his soldiers fell, his own spirit could not return home, leaving only the Yellow River and a mountain rising like a dragon in the clouds, here in Xuzhou.

The Han Dynasty emperors’ tombs were constructed in the chill of autumn winds, and no one can ultimately escape their fate.

The high platform where the hero once played with his war horses has been desolate for a thousand years. The passionate beauty has long passed away, and the grand tower where she waited for her lover now stands empty.

Life feels like staying at an inn. Why not drink joyfully and have a thousand cups? After becoming drunk, look back at the endless wilderness beyond the city walls, and as the sun sets, lean on the railing and watch the distant wild geese depart.

“You’re Being Slaughtered & You Don’t Realize It!” – US Dollar Collapse

This insight is gold. 2008 was when it all hit.

  • On November 25, 1950, the U.S.-ROK allied forces occupied half of the Korean Peninsula and were about to reach the Yalu River border between China and North Korea.
  • On July 27, 1953, the Chinese and North Korean allied forces again drove the U.S. and South Korean allied forces south of the 38th parallel.

The Chinese People’s Volunteers (CPV) started at the Yalu River and ended at the 38th parallel. This was a very successful victory.

The death data of 197,653 Chinese soldiers is indeed greater than the death data of 54,246 US military personnel. The death data of Chinese soldiers is 3 times that of the US soldiers.

But is the death figure of 197,653 Chinese soldiers smaller than the total US+UN (non-human) death figure of 683,079?

I’m not good at math and can’t tell the difference between the size of the numbers, so I invite netizens to compare. 😅

In addition to American soldiers, those who participated in the Korean War included soldiers from South Korea, the UK, Canada, Turkey, Australia, the Philippines, New Zealand, Thailand, Ethiopia, Greece, France, Colombia, Belgium, South Africa, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg.

Soldiers other than the US military were not human beings. They were completely wiped out by the Chinese People’s Volunteers (CPV) and were not worth mentioning at all. 🤣

All I know is that by the time the Chinese People’s Volunteers (CPV) entered the Korean battlefield on November 25, 1950, the North Korean army had suffered most of its casualties.

most of the battles after November 25, 1950 were fought by the Chinese People’s Volunteers (CPV) .

 

Lucille Greye

“Who would believe that I, the great Lish Ryn, would be brought to my knees by the little Nadyr?”Telen Fogg, the tall android sighed. “Lish. How many times have you said that exact same thing? Look. So what if Nadyr got the Zarkot first? My friend,” Telen smiled, “this can only be good. We can easily steal the Zarkot back from him. It’s most likely in his ship, the Angyl, and it probably isn’t even protected.”Lish spun her pilot’s chair away from the cockpit’s window and faced Telen. Her long, golden hair framed her face. With the combination of her hair and bright green eyes, she stood out against the white leather and silver computers behind her. “And how do you propose we do that?” Her voice was flat, angry. “I am completely tired of being humiliated and undermined by that Bos’ii snake! He took my Zarkot and left me stranded in a tree!”Telen chuckled. “He may be a Bos’ii snake, but he is not a wise one-““No, he is!” Lish thundered. “Every plan, every scheme I have, he somehow finds out about it… and every time, he brings it to ruins! I wonder how that happens?”“Lish, please don’t tell me you suspect me?”

“I-” Her gaze jerks up to glimpse a flash of color dart behind one of the navigational devices at the back of the room. “Vorrha?” She asked, incredulous. “I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the traitor in the midst.” This, of course, was rather likely, as the only crew members on the Aalya Meriet were herself, Telen, and the humanoid mechanic Vorrha. It was possible that Telen was the information leak, or Nadyr had planted a spy-droid on the ship, but Telen was very dedicated to Lish, and Nadyr rarely had access to the ship to plant a droid. It was doubtful that Nadyr even had that type of technology. The planet Jayjar was located in the farthest corners of space, hardly touched by the technological advances of the planets Mirima or Qud, and Nadyr never left Jayjar. The only suspect could be Vorrha, and she was hardly being sly about it either. She had no reason to sneak about the very ship that she repaired daily.

Vorrha slunk out from behind the computers, and the small hominid shriveled under Lish’s glare. “Nadyr offered Vorrha m-money, more than Captain Lish could. Vorrha needs the moneys, you see, b-because Vorrha’s mother needs the treatment for the sickness.” She stammered. “Vorrha is so sorry.”

Lish growled quietly. “A little meelvat in our midst, taking precious information and leaking info to Nadyr. I would throw you into space from the airlock, but I’m not that heartless. No, I think I’ll drop you off on Arboga, maybe in-”

“Lish.” Telen muttered.

“What do you need, Telen?”

“There’s an incoming ship on the radar. Big one.”

“Nadyr’s?”

“No, bigger. Could it be-”

Lish shoved him aside. “It could be the Narrtor, Kon Laari’s ship.”

Telen’s face paled. “The Kon? Here? He must be thousands of miles from the planet Okrak!”

Kon Laari Antrus, the cyborg crime lord, or The Kon as he was known by many, was the leader of the galaxy’s largest criminal organization. He was head of the Antrus Clan, a group of thieves, pirates, and smugglers. Okrak, a dry, mountainous planet, about three thousand miles from Arboga, was his home. It was rare that Laari left that area, generally sending off his minions to do his work.

But for some reason, it was his personal space cruiser, the Narrtor, that Telen saw.

The comm crackled to life and an authoritative voice could be heard faintly. “Aalya Meriet, this is the pilot of the Narrtor. Please prepare to be boarded.”

Vorrha dropped her head into her hands, muttering some type of prayer in her native language.

“What are we gonna do?” Telen asked. “Maybe we could light up the engines and fly out of here-”

The comm hissed again. “Any signs of resistance or attempts to escape will be taken as a threat and the Aalya Meriet will be annihilated.”

The large hatch of the landing dock opened, and the pilot of the Narrtor took over the auto-controls of the Aalya, steering her into the landing dock. The gate hissed shut behind them.

“Trapped like a fly in a Cath spider’s web,” Lish muttered. “Stuck… Our only hope of escaping is to play along with this. See what Laari Antrus wants, give him it, and get out of here.” With a short, decisive motion, she pressed the button to open the loading hatch below. “Compliant, that’s the look we’re going for.”

Vorrha whimpered quietly.

The sound of footsteps quickly grew loud, and in seconds, a group of five men, four carrying guns and the fifth a data pad, came into the cockpit. The man with the data pad glanced up. “Yes. Those are the ones. Seize them.” The armed men grabbed Telen and Lish by the arms. “Comply, or be shot,” the tall one, who seemed to be the leader, continued.

Lish’s face was red. “On what grounds can you arrest me? I am Lish Gir’ryn, best pilot in the galaxy, not some girl to by toyed with!”

The leader glanced down at his pad again. “Lish Gir’ryn? And, I assume, Telen Fogg. And whoever that little mouse is. You, Ryn and Fogg , are both under arrest,” he paused to clear his throat, “by order of the great Kon Laari Antrus. Do not speak again, unless you would like to be killed.”

Lish was bursting with fury, but she kept her angry words to herself.

The trio was marched not towards the top of the ship, where the ship’s cockpit was, but towards the back.

“Where are you taking us?” Lish asked, both frustrated and curious.

The head of the guards, or whoever the tall man that was leading them was, frowned. “Towards the prison deck. Where else would we be taking you?”

“But why?” Telen burst out. “Why are we being arrested? What have we done to anger Kon Laari?”

The tall man with the data pad sighed, and glanced down to read the arrest warrant. “The smugglers Lisk-” he paused, closely scrutinizing the pad. “Lish Ryn and Telen Fogg are under arrest for inhibiting and interfering with the business of Kon Laari Antrus. He personally came to oversee their capture.

“It is by Antrus’ law,” he continued, “that all smugglers, robbers, pirates, and any others involved in criminal dealings are under arrest by the Kon and are sentenced to three years of work in the planet Okrak’s mines. I, Timothy Halos, have been placed in charge of these dealings.”

“Why is he capturing all of the… hard workers?” Lish asked.

Timothy frowned. “I have not been given leave to reveal that information.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Lish spoke smoothly. “Second only to the Kon and yet, still rules being placed on what you can and cannot say?”

“I- I must obey Antrus.”

“Yes… but, well, I don’t see Antrus around.”

“I cannot speak of something the Kon has forbidden me to speak of.” But there was a slight hesitation in his voice, as if he really did want to speak.

“No one’s here to tell Antrus.”

The guards escorting the prisoners exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Timothy sighed. “Very well, but you must not tell anyone. Antrus’ plan is strictly confidential. He is searching for a type of stone, or mechanical device- none can say which -but he heard that a smuggler in the Outer Reaches had gotten hold of it. He began to capture and arrest any criminals he came across, hoping that one would have it. He did this under the pretense of ‘cleaning up our galaxy.’ Of course, he told me, his most trusted advisor, what was truly happening.”

Lish, of course was quite pleased, as her plan to get information was going quite smoothly. “A stone? Why a stone?”

“Not just any stone. It’s the Zarkot.”

Lish scrunched her face up, as if confused. “The Zarkot… I know I’ve heard the name somewhere. Tell me more!”

Timothy Halos was blind to the fact that Lish was easily dredging up information from him. “The Zarkot is a stone said to posses magical powers, or extremely advanced technology.”

Lish changed her expression to in awe. “Really? What can it do?” Of course, she already knew how it worked, she just wished to see how much he knew.

“Many things. It is said to be a translator, able to detect different alien languages and make them understandable to the superior humans. It can command other ships’ controls, many at once, even if the ship that is overriding them does not have the technology to countermand other ships, and it even-” he stopped. “Ah! We have arrived!” With a flourish, he opened the door. “Welcome to Cell Block B, your new temporary home.” He turned to the guards. “Escort them to the nearest empty cell. That should be B7 or B8. I will be taking my leave to go report back to Antrus.” The guards nodded their heads to Halos. They drug Telen, Lish, and Vorrha through the doorway and down the hall to cell B7. “Hope you enjoy your new home,” one of them grunted, shoving them into the room and slamming the heavy iron door behind them.

“Well. That was rather intersecting,” Lish said, in surprisingly high spirits.

Telen grunted in response.

Lish surveyed their surroundings, looking for a possible escape route. The door, which seemed to be the only entrance or exit, was a stout iron door. There was no handle, and the door opened outwardly, so the door screws couldn’t be taken off somehow. The door itself looked like a large slab of metal. The rest of the room seemed to be a smooth cube, with only two grated openings between each cell.

“Hello?” Lish called through the grates. “Anyone else in here?”

“Hello!” A young man, who looked to be around the age of seventeen or eighteen, popped up in front of one of the great. He had short, curly hair, bright blue eyes, and a contagious smile.

Lish yelped in surprise. “Nadyr?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?” She hissed.

“I could ask the same of you, but thing is, I already guessed why you’re here. And that’s the same reason why I’m here. Except I have no idea why I’m here.”

“Antrus is searching for the Zarkot.”

Nadyr’s jaw dropped, but his smile quickly returned to his face. “Is he really?”

“Yes. Which would be fine, if you hadn’t taken it from me. I would have it with me right now, and I would be able-”

Nadyr scoffed. “In your dreams. We all know you’re not competent enough for that. If you had it with you, Timothy would already have found it.”

“Like you could have done better!”

“Actually,” Nadyr held up his hand, curled into a fist around something, “I did do better.” He opened his hand to reveal a small blue stone, dangling from a silver chain. “Please, hold your applause. It was quite hard to smuggle it in, but I managed.”

Lish sighed. “Bested again.”

Telen chuckled. “Bested again indeed. Now, Nadyr, do you know how to use it?”

Nadyr shrugged. “To be frank, no, I don’t.”

“Alright. Then shall we make a deal? If you give it to me, Lish can use it to get us out of here. Then, we sneak back to the Aalya Meriet. We use the Zarkot to override the Narrtor’s security systems, fly out of here, and maybe head to the Center Planets. We can sell the Zarkot, split the money, and then stay out of each other’s paths from then on. Is that a deal?”

“But,” Nadyr asked, face twisted with indecision. “How can I trust you to let me out?”

Lish spoke up. “You can trust us, because if we don’t let you out, you can just yell for the guards. Deal?”

Nadyr shoved his hand through the bars, and they shook hands. “Deal.” He pushed the stone through. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

“Very sure.” Lish pressed the stone to the center of the cell door, and spoke the command word for the Zarkot. She could hear the gears grinding as the locking mechanism was overridden. The door swung open, hanging loosely from its hinges.

“Ready?” Telen asked, and Vorrha, Lish, and Nadyr nodded silently. “My memory databases tracked the turns we took and the distances between them to get from the Aalya Meriet, so all I have to do is reverse it and I can get us out of here.”

“Being an android must be nice,” Nadyr commented.

The foursome ran through the hallways, ducking to the side when any of Antrus’ men came down the hallways.

Within minutes of their escape, alarms began to shriek.

Nadyr smiled. “Nice to know I’m worthy of alarms.”

Lish laughed. Her mood had become quite cheerful. It seemed that adventure had banished her irritable nature to the recesses of her conscious.

“There!” Telen said. “That’s the entrance to the docking bay. But it’s heavily guarded.”

Nadyr smiled. “Lish! Remember how Liz used to distract the kitchen guards?” He asked, referring to the days when him and Lish were in the orphanage on Arboga.

Lish nodded and smirked. “You distract. I’ll take them out.”

Nadyr strolled around the corner, directly in front of the guards. “Hello, gentlemen.”

Four barrels of four guns jerked up to point at him.

Nadyr put his hands up. “Whoa, no lets not be too hasty.”

And then chaos reigned.

Lish darted up behind the guards, grabbing two and smashing their heads together. Nadyr disarmed the other two, shooting them both with a blaster he stole from one.

“All done!”

Lish nodded, teeth gritted into a smile, hand gripping her shoulder.

“Lish, what happened?” Telen asked, worried.

“Stray blaster shot. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. Just get back to the ship.”

They filed through the door, and Telen jabbed the button to open the Aalya Meriet’s loading hatch.

“All aboard!”

Later, they sat in the cockpit. Lish’s shoulder was swathed in bandages, and Nadyr was reprogramming the ship’s computer system to accept the Zarkot.

Nadyr sighed. “If only we didn’t have to leave the Angyl.”

“All we have to do,” Lish said, ignoring him, “is hijack the computer system of the Narrtor long enough to open the landing hatch. Then we zip out of here. That’s all. Antrus didn’t ‘tie down’ the Aalya Meriet in any way.” She stood up and walked towards the controls. “Plug the Zarkot here,” she reached down and pointed, and Nadyr stuck the little stone into the slot made to fit it. “And now,” Lish pushed a few buttons and typed a destination into the navigation system. “And now, we’re free.”

The huge hatched opened, and the little Aalya Meriet darted free of the Narrtor’s clutches.

The flight to the Center Planets was not a long one, but the foursome’s adventures on the planet Qud were worthy of a second tale. But, alas, that tale must be saved for another day, because for now, the story of Lish Ryn and her friends must be given a rest.

What is the meaning of “如何51吃瓜北京朝阳群众热心吃 瓜”?

You might not have copied the sentence completely.

如何51吃瓜北京朝阳群众热心吃 瓜”

Do not know what does that mean.

But I’d like to explain a bit.

瓜” here represents “watermelon,”西瓜, literally meaning “western melon.” Clearly, this is not a native Chinese species; the character “西” (west) here signifies its Middle Eastern origin. For example, “胡” (barbarian) in terms like “二胡” (a traditional Chinese string instrument) also has this meaning, indicating it came from the Middle East.

There are many species introduced to China that are not native. For instance, “番茄” (tomato) and “番薯” (sweet potato), where “番” means foreign. So these are not indigenous Chinese crops.

Even chili peppers are not native. They were only widely cultivated in China during the Ming Dynasty.

However, Chinese people love chili peppers just as much as they love——

Watermelons!

The watermelon production in China is so high that… the yield is just immense.

Because of the high water content, they are not easy to transport. So, while watermelons can be relatively expensive in supermarkets—around $3 per 5 kilograms—if you go to the production areas, they are practically free.

Sometimes, they are even used to feed pigs.

I am an outlier among Chinese people,do not like eating fruit,eating watermelons, but my fellow countrymen love this fruit so much that Chinese people refer to themselves as “吃瓜群众” (melon-eating masses).

The phrase means: I’m just here to watch the fun, holding a melon and eating it, while watching the excitement.

朝阳群众” (Chaoyang masses) refers to another concept.

Chaoyang is a district in Beijing. There are some middle-aged and elderly women there who have helped the police solve many drug cases, especially involving actors and celebrities, as there are many film and TV stars living in that area. This area became a hotspot for drug problems.

Later, “Chaoyang masses” evolved into a term for “enthusiastic informants who report drug use,” and eventually became known as “China’s most powerful intelligence agency”! People joke that the U.S. has the CIA, the Soviet Union had the KGB, and China has the “Chaoyang masses.”

That’s how it is.

Italian Chili

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Yield: 12 cups

Ingredients

  • 1 pound bulk Italian sausage
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 cups onion, diced
  • 1/2 pound pepperoni stick, cubed
  • 1 tablespoon garlic, minced
  • 1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes
  • 1 (26 ounce) jar tomato sauce
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 1 (15 ounce) can cannelloni beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 (15 ounce) can red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 tablespoon dried Italian seasoning
  • 2 tablespoons chili powder, or more to taste
  • Red pepper flakes, to taste
  • Salt, to taste

Instructions

  1. Sauté sausage in oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When brown, drain off fat and add onions, pepperoni and garlic; cook for 5 minutes.
  2. Add tomatoes, tomato sauce and broth, bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 20 minutes.
  3. Stir in beans and seasoning and simmer until heated through.

I just been working on the system. Still, not really “jumps out” as spectacular.

I played around with South East Asian history. With the bath and anointment rituals…

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Then, I started to look into European Biblical traditions.

Here’s some work regarding angels…

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Off to Ancient China.

Here’s some efforts regarding ancient kings and their palace court…

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(12)

Dog bites on toy army men

One of my childhood memories is that of all my toys being eaten up by our dogs. Army men, you know the green and grey figurines, always were chewed to Hell. I rarely ever saw my sisters dolls suffer the same fate. Probably for one reason or the other.

I never thought too much about it. I would just shrug my shoulders and consider it a part of my life. Ah. I was used to it.

I used to have this Major Matt Mason space toy. I had a couple of figurines and a space-station. One day I came home only to find my dog chewing up a major truss support. *sigh*

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From that moment on, I adapted and used the chewed up truss in my play time activities.

So looking back, I think that this adaptation of adverse situations had a positive effect on my life. It made me more adaptive and resilient. I think that how we grow creates our personality. In this case, it was chew marks on all my toys.

How the dog got into my perpetually closed bedroom door remains a mystery. Though, I do have my suspicions.

Don’t ever forget. Remember the little things that you grew up. Like puzzle pieces they all come together in the end.

Today…

Hot Dog Chili

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Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 8 hot dogs or turkey hot dogs, cut lengthwise then into 1/2 inch pieces
  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
  • 2 (14 ounce) cans mild chili beans (not drained)
  • 1/2 cup ketchup
  • 1/4 cup yellow mustard
  • 1/4 cup relish
  • 4 ounces chopped green chiles (optional)
  • Salt
  • Pepper
  • Chopped onions and shredded Cheddar cheese for garnish

Instructions

  1. Heat olive oil in a large, heavy saucepan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add hot dogs and onions to the oil. Cook until hot dogs are browned, about 5 minutes.
  2. Add remaining ingredients. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes.
  3. Taste and adjust seasonings.
  4. Serve hot, topped with chopped onions and shredded cheddar cheese.

The Real Reason Army Recruitment Is Plummeting

China.

There’s a basic reason.

Chinese society considers society a feature. Chinese people (for the most part) reject Jewish supremacy. Chinese reject every social ill that can be used to divide the Chinese people, be it radical tribalism or liberal left-right-ism in all its forms. Chinese raised 800 million out of extreme poverty. Chinese built high speed rails all over their country. Chinese did not allow their GDP figures to be inflated, but rather, China ensured that the rich must benefit the entire nation, and not just themselves. Even then, China’s GDP is growing much faster than America’s GDP.

“The law in its majestic equality forbids the rich as well as the poor to beg in the street, to sleep under bridges, and to steal bread.”

— Anatole France

In American society, homelessness and desperate poverty are a feature, not a bug. Homeless panhandlers begging in the streets are a salutary reminder to American wage slaves of what’s in store for them if they don’t keep their shoulders to the wheel and their noses to the grindstone.

Western society in general is based on the relentless exploitation of the poor by the rich, the weak by the strong. You eat your own. Everyone in America kisses the ass of the person above them in the social order and shits on the one below them.

This is the way you like it. Why else the relentless persecution of the widow, the orphan, and the refugee? Why the gleeful mistreatment of the poor, making them abase themselves and jump through hoops for a pittance? You enjoy watching those less fortunate than you suffer, just as those more fortunate than you take pleasure in your misery.

You like it. You voted for it. You will vote for it again. You will trample on those that are lesser than you, even as you cry about being trampled by those above you.

This is the Way.

It’s a way China rejects, but it’s your way.

As benevolent as China is, China cannot help a masochistic society.

Using DNA, authorities identify man who brutally killed Dana Ireland in 1991

Western countries’ discontent with China-Africa relations isn’t about concern for African well-being—it’s about losing their grip. China’s approach flips the script by offering genuine development opportunities without colonial baggage. For decades, Africa has been reliant on aid and loans from Western nations and institutions like the IMF and World Bank, which often come with stringent conditions that can disrupt local economies and perpetuate dependency rather than foster real growth. Conditions such as structural adjustment policies (SAPs) demanded economic liberalization and reduced government spending, often to the detriment of local sectors like agriculture and small businesses.

In stark contrast, China provides infrastructure projects and funding without demanding sweeping political reforms, allowing African countries to chart their paths to development. The effectiveness of this approach is notably visible—Chinese-funded projects like roads, railways, and airports are transforming landscapes across Africa, achieving what Western aid has often failed to accomplish. China’s development model is based on mutual benefit and respect for sovereignty, focusing on tangible improvements in infrastructure and industrial capacity that meet the specific needs of African nations.

Financially, China’s engagement with Africa creates significant competition for Western businesses. Chinese banks have outpaced their Western counterparts in lending to Africa, providing vital financial support during global crises such as the economic downturns and the COVID-19 pandemic. According to reports, China’s development banks lent around $23 billion to sub-Saharan Africa, more than double the combined amount from the US, Germany, France, and Japan. This shift means Western countries, accustomed to having a monopoly over African markets, now face real competition from China’s efficient and large-scale ventures.

Moreover, accusations of “debt-trap diplomacy” raised by Western critics claim that China’s loans are unsustainable and infringe on African sovereignty. However, many African leaders and experts rebut these claims, noting that Chinese loans often come with more favorable terms compared to Western financial institutions. They also highlight that undue focus on debt ignores the broader context of infrastructure and economic advancement these loans support.

Another layer to Western consternation is rooted in deep-seated racial and cultural biases. The cooperation between China and Africa challenges the long-standing narrative of Western superiority and undermines the paternalistic attitude that has historically characterized Western aid. The perception that African nations are incapable of managing their affairs without Western oversight is deeply ingrained, and China’s success in establishing equal partnerships based on mutual benefit disrupts this ideology.

Therefore, Western countries’ irritation over China-Africa cooperation can be boiled down to a mix of threatened economic interests, disrupted historical influence, and underlying racial biases. China’s strategy of engaging with Africa stands in stark contrast to the conditional and often patronizing methods of Western nations, thereby promoting a new dynamic that favors African autonomy and sustainable development.

“Victor Davis Hanson: Please Listen… Because This is Important!!”

Russia’s unemployment rate is at an all-time low, wages are up, and Russians are spending money on leisure and recreation.

It will be interesting to see how Russia’s central banker, Elvira Nabiullina, deals with the impending Western stock market crash. She did a spectacular job in dealing with US sanctions, outwitting Biden, Nuland, Blinken, Sullivan, and the rest of the US kakistocracy.

Here’s the article:

Real disposable income of Russians (net of inflation and mandatory payments, such as taxes and interest on loans) increased by 9.6% in April-June, according to Rosstat agency data. This is a record figure since 2013, when the methodology for calculating the indicator changed. The last time real incomes grew at a rate close to the maximum was in the first quarter of 2022 (by 8.9%). Compared to January-March, the growth of real disposable income of Russians hit 8.7%. In the first half of 2024, the figure increased by 8.1%.

Such an increase in income is primarily a consequence of a shortage of personnel. The unemployment rate fell to 2.4% in June, hitting a new all-time low. In May, the figure was at the level of 2.6%. Earlier, the Central Bank warned that in the second quarter, the provision of personnel updated the historical minimum in the history of observations. According to the monitoring of enterprises conducted by the Bank of Russia, there was a shortage of engineers, installers, IT personnel, warehouse workers and drivers.

The most acute shortage continued to be experienced by Russian manufacturing enterprises producing investment and consumer products. The head of the Central Bank, Elvira Nabiullina, noted that 75% of Russian companies complain about the shortage of personnel.

The problem of personnel shortages on the Russian work market, the training and competition in the labor market will stay in the coming years, Minister of Economic Development Maxim Reshetnikov said last February. According to Reshetnikov, this is now one of the main risks in the Russian economy.

How did incomes grow?

Cash income (on average per capita) amounted to 58,191 rubles in the second quarter, which is 16.8% more than in the same period last year. The acceleration in growth was mainly due to higher wages. In the structure of monetary incomes of the population, the share of wages increased from 59.9% in the second quarter of 2023 to 62% in April-June 2024. At the same time, the part that falls on social benefits decreased to 17.3% from 19%. Earnings from entrepreneurial activity in the total income structure also fell – by 0.9 percentage points to 5.9%. Other revenues, including shadow income, decreased from 7.5% to 6.6%.

The growth of incomes was also accompanied by an increase in household expenditures – they increased by 13.9% in the first half of the year compared to the same period last year. And Russians spent about 3 trillion rubles on savings in January-June (in 2023 for the same period – 1.8 trillion rubles).

The Central Bank of Russia has increased its growth forecast in 2024 by 0.3 p.p. to 3.2%. Analysts expect Russian GDP to grow by 1.7-1.8% in 2025-2027.

The IMF forecast the Russian GDP growth to reach 3.2% in 2024 and 1.5% in 2025.

Wages of Russians

Real wages in May increased by 8.8% in annual terms, nominal (before taxes) – by 17.8%, according to Rosstat. For five months, the growth of real wages amounted to 10.1%, nominal wages – 18.7%. On average, one employee in May earned for 86,384 rubles (around 927 euros).

The highest growth rates of wages in May were observed in the field of leisure, recreation and sports (by 29.5%), in the production of clothing – by 27.2%, coke – by 26.8%, in administrative activities – 26.6%, in wood processing – by 25.5%, in the financial and insurance sectors – by 24.8%, in the activities of extraterritorial organizations (including diplomatic missions) – by 24.7%. Also, wages in the production of finished metal products, computers and furniture grew at a rate of more than 23%.

In absolute terms, the highest salaries were traditionally observed in the fuel and energy sector – in pipeline transport (311,205 rubles), in oil and gas production (211,339 rubles), as well as in the financial and insurance sector (185,792 rubles).

Regional Breakdown

The lowest unemployment rate was recorded in Moscow (1%), Novgorod and Nizhny Novgorod regions (1.3% each), Khanty-Mansiysk, Yamalo-Nenets and Chukotka districts, in the Khabarovsk Territory (1.4% each), Bashkortostan (1.5%). At the same time, a high level is observed in the North Caucasus Federal District – in Ingushetia, unemployment in May amounted to 26.7%, in Dagestan – 10.8%.

In May, wages in the sectoral context grew at the highest rates in the Kurgan Region (by 30.1%), the Stavropol Territory (by 24.8%), Udmurtia (by 23.5%), the Bryansk Region and the Trans-Baikal Territory (by 23.4%), as well as in the Pskov Region (by 23.1%), the Chelyabinsk Region (by 22.9%), the Smolensk Region (by 22%), as well as in the Republic of Mari El (by 22%).

What professions are in demand in Russia in 2024

Drivers, loaders, delivery men, sales representatives and promoters have become especially in demand now, reported the Sovcombank. Since the beginning of 2024, drivers – 417 thousand and couriers – 115 thousand – have been looking for the largest number of published vacancies. Russian companies also lack 70 thousand loaders, reported Лента.Ру with reference to the data of the Работа в Москве, поиск персонала и публикация вакансий – hh.ru portal.

In May, wages in the sectoral context grew at the highest rates in the Kurgan Region (by 30.1%), the Stavropol Territory (by 24.8%), Udmurtia (by 23.5%), the Bryansk Region and the Trans-Baikal Territory (by 23.4%), as well as in the Pskov Region (by 23.1%), the Chelyabinsk Region (by 22.9%), the Smolensk Region (by 22%), as well as in the Republic of Mari El (by 22%).

What professions are in demand in Russia in 2024

Drivers, loaders, delivery men, sales representatives and promoters have become especially in demand now, reported the Sovcombank. Since the beginning of 2024, drivers – 417 thousand and couriers – 115 thousand – have been looking for the largest number of published vacancies. Russian companies also lack 70 thousand loaders, reported Лента.Ру with reference to the data of the Работа в Москве, поиск персонала и публикация вакансий – hh.ru portal.

West exhausted, Ukraine losing, NATO refuses peace

Whoever gets elected as the US president will not change the trajectory of the continuous decline of the US and the continuous uprising of China.

I’m calling this a financial crisis for the US kakistocracy. The faltering US domestic economy has triggered worldwide sell-offs in stock markets, cryptocurrencies, and commodities markets like gold. In the last six months, US banks have set aside reserves for significant, predicted loan losses in commercial real estate.

[1] In the last year, the US has had three of its four biggest bank failures in history.
[2] We might get to see how the BRICS bloc weathers a Western financial crisis.

From the article:

NEW YORK (AP) — Nearly everything on Wall Street is tumbling Monday as fear about a slowing U.S. economy worsens and sets off another sell-off for financial markets around the world.

The S&P 500 was down by 2.4% in afternoon trading. The Dow Jones Industrial Average was reeling by 864 points, or 2.2%, as of 1:25 p.m. Eastern time, and the Nasdaq composite slid 2.8%.

The drops were just the latest in a global sell-off that began last week. Japan’s Nikkei 225 helped start Monday by plunging 12.4% for its worst day since the Black Monday crash of 1987.

It was the first chance for traders in Tokyo to react to Friday’s report showing U.S. employers slowed their hiring last month by much more than economists expected. That was the latest piece of data on the U.S. economy to come in weaker than expected, and it’s all raised fear the Federal Reserve has pressed the brakes on the U.S. economy by too much for too long through high interest rates in hopes of stifling inflation.

Professional investors cautioned that some technical factors could be amplifying the action in markets, but the losses were still neck-snapping. South Korea’s Kospi index careened 8.8% lower, stock markets across Europe sank more than 1% and bitcoin dropped below $55,000 from more than $61,000 on Friday.

Even gold, which has a reputation for offering safety during tumultuous times, slipped 1%.

That’s in part because traders began wondering if the damage has been so severe that the Federal Reserve will have to cut interest rates in an emergency meeting, before its next scheduled decision on Sept. 18. The yield on the two-year Treasury, which closely tracks expectations for the Fed, briefly sank below 3.70% during the morning from 3.88% late Friday and from 5% in April. It later recovered and pulled back to 3.93%.

“The Fed could ride in on a white horse to save the day with a big rate cut, but the case for an inter-meeting cut seems flimsy,” said Brian Jacobsen, chief economist at Annex Wealth Management. “Those are usually reserved for emergencies, like COVID, and an unemployment rate of 4.3% doesn’t really seem like an emergency.”

The U.S. economy is still growing, and a recession is far from a certainty. The Fed has been clear about the tightrope it began walking when it started hiking rates sharply in March 2022: Being too aggressive would choke the economy, but going too soft would give inflation more oxygen and hurt everyone.

Goldman Sachs economist David Mericle sees a higher chance of a recession within the next 12 months following Friday’s jobs report. But he still sees only a 25% probability of that, up from 15%, in part “because the data look fine overall” and he does not “see major financial imbalances.”

Some of Wall Street’s recent declines may also simply be air coming out of a stock market that romped to dozens of all-time highs this year, in part on a frenzy around artificial-intelligence technology and hopes for coming cuts to interest rates. Critics have been saying for a while that the stock market looked expensive after prices rose faster than corporate profits.

“Markets tend to move higher like they’re climbing stairs, and they go down like they’re falling out a window,” according to JJ Kinahan, CEO of IG North America. He chalks much of the recent worries to euphoria around AI subsiding and “a market that was ahead of itself.”

Professional investors also pointed to the Bank of Japan’s move last week to raise its main interest rate from nearly zero. Such a move helps boost the value of the Japanese yen, but it could also force traders to scramble out of deals where they borrowed money for virtually no cost in Japan and invested it elsewhere around the world.

U.S. stocks pared their losses Monday after a report said growth for U.S. services businesses was a touch stronger than expected. Growth was led by businesses in the arts, entertainment and recreation businesses, along with accommodations and food services, according to the Institute for Supply Management. Treasury yields also pared their drops following the better-than-expected data.

Elon Musk: “I Am OFFICIALLY Buying Facebook!!”

Nauseatingly woke narrative, but we all know why he bought it up.

This is a surprisingly good question.

But it is not an easy one to answer.

We will start with the Fundamentals.

System Baselines

The United States is a oligarchy ruled kleptocracy, that maintains an illusion of “democracy”. It is a military empire. It is the largest military empire in history. It rules over various territories, nations and regions using a variety of different techniques.

  • States (former regional nations) are ruled directly.
  • Territories are wholly controlled, but permitted local government control.
  • Proxies, are conquered nations, that are controlled through money, economics and military. For our purposes, we will consider the G7, South Korea, and the Philippines to be proxies.

China is a physical nation that operates a meritocracy. It is a social republic with one party that follows the communist model. It is majority Han race, and has arrangements with other nations though it’s “power channels”.

  • Mainland. Controlled directly.
  • Special Economic Regions. Permitted local government control.
  • Strong “anything goes” alliance with Russia.
  • SCO (shanghai cooperation organization) economic, social, and economic ties.
  • BRI members
  • BRICS+. Financial, economic, trade, and humanitarian connections.

Taken as a whole, we can see that the world is split up with two dominant nation-led blocks. One is the West, controlled by the United States (some argue that it is “actually” controlled by either the UK or Israel), and the other the East. Dominated by the China-Russia nexus.

Comparing the two baselines

So, the question is about a comparison between the two halves. How does the East and the West compare.

It is a little difficult. There are numerous nations that are “straddling the fence” and corroborating with both sides of the globe. This is true with some BRI states.

Ah, comparing the economic landscapes of the West and the group of nations led by China is quite a complex task, as such any particular numbers will be erroneous and wrong. At best, I can only provide a very general overview.

Currently, the West, comprising the United States, the G7 nations, and its territories, boasts a significant share of global economic output. With robust economies, technological innovation, and established trade networks, the West holds a substantial position in the world economy. The combined GDP and PPP GDP of these nations are among the highest globally, reflecting their economic strength.

We can (and perhaps should) consider them well-established economic power-houses.

On the other hand, the group led by China, including Russia, members of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, BRICS+, and the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) countries, represents a diverse array of economies with varying levels of development. China’s rapid economic growth, infrastructure investments, and expanding influence have positioned it as a key player in the global economy.

Thus, we can anticipate grown; especially substantive economic growth in these nations in the future.

Today, we can say that the United States led “block” leads in GDP. While also admitting that the Chinese led block leads in PPP.

Or, perhaps to put it another way…

  • The West is wealthy. But the citizenry are poor.
  • The East is poor, but growing. Their people are comfortable, but not rich.

Looking ahead to 2035, both groups are likely to experience shifts in their economic landscapes. The West may continue to innovate, invest in technology, and adapt to changing global dynamics. However, demographic challenges, debt burdens, and competition from emerging economies could impact the growth trajectory of some Western nations.

Personally, I do not see a rosy prognosis. I anticipate continued collapses of all elements of the pillars of society and industry in the West.

In contrast, the group led by China is expected to see further economic expansion, driven by infrastructure development, technological advancements, and enhanced regional cooperation. The Belt and Road Initiative and increased trade partnerships could bolster economic growth in these nations, leading to a more interconnected and influential bloc on the world stage.

One cannot help but be optimistic regarding the eastern block.

The year 2035 is likely to be shaped by factors such as technological innovation, trade dynamics, demographic trends, and geopolitical developments. All of which is anticipated, and projected to be led by the Eastern Block.

Matt Damon REVEALS His DISTURBING Experience At Hollywood ELITE Parties

Sophie Sharek

The infinite cold of space can seem to stretch out forever and ever to the untrained eye. To the trained eye, it still goes on forever, but it’s just slightly less scary, and it’s not as cold because trained eyes bring jackets and hot chocolate so they aren’t as chilly. Many interstellar interlopers describe the infinite cold of space as rather sentient, as a result of a dozen incidents where a perhaps-future-settlement has simply coughed up the intruders; or they’ll describe it as too dark, because honestly, can the infinite cold of space provide some flashlights?Occasionally, the infinite cold of space can be interrupted by a star, or perhaps a planet. No one hears the planets talk, (even though they’re apparently sentient), but if one listens closely, one can sometimes hear static, maybe, or a clearing of a throat, a planet attempting to speak . . .’Hellooooo? Testing? Hiiiii?”Yes?!’‘Hi! It’s, it’s Zeta.’

‘I don’t know you. Goodbye–’

‘No, wait, I just wanted to say hello.’

‘Is this about the insurance? Because for the last time, I don’t want it.’

‘No, no. It’s Zeta. The planet.’

‘I’m sorry, who?’

‘Zeta? I was born a couple billion years ago, in the neighbouring solar system. I just unlocked my communications potential!’

‘You just– you just unlocked it? As in I’m the first planet you’ve talked to?’

‘Yes!’

‘How unfortunate.’

‘Unfortunate? Why?’

‘Unfortunate for me, not for you.’

‘Oh.’

‘Are we quite done? Because the elderly nebula next door is out of milk and she wants me to run to the store.’

‘No! No, wait. Who are you? What’s your solar system like? I’m carbon based! Are you . . . carbon based?’

‘Jesus Christ– fine. I’m Delta. I’m in a solar system with the star Gamma in the centre, and two other planets, Mu and Nu, who aren’t as nice as I am. They were once the same planet but some rogue asteroid with a death wish planted itself right in the middle. If I’m being honest, I think Mu and Nu have some sort of hivemind complex going on. And I’m not carbon based. I’m made of silicon and oxygen.’

‘Cool! Nice to meet you, Delta. I’m surprised I haven’t met anyone in your system yet, considering that me and Upsilon are so close to you.

‘We’re all rather introverted.’

‘Intro-vert?’

‘Means that we aren’t menaces to the universe.’

‘Sounds boring.’

‘On the plus side, small, carbon-based planets — who just unlocked their communications — don’t interrupt us to ask about our solar system.’

‘Hey!’

‘Hey yourself.’

‘Wait, I have to go. Upsilon had a reaction to an excess of hydrogen. Honestly, you’d think a red giant like him would learn! I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Oh, joy.’

 

***

 

The infinite cold of space — which, by the way, is now several degrees colder — looks rather like a nice shade of navy blue, instead of black on the morning that the first Great Rip is discovered. A white, blinding line zigzags across a patch of empty space, creating a sort of vacuum that is sucking in dark matter and husks of dead stars. Several planets and comets have visited: it’s not that often that they get a new tourist attraction, after all. None of them have come back.

Several hundred thousand kilometres away from the Rip, one can hear static, an excited tapping, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . .

‘Delta! Delta, you there?’

‘What time is it? Who is this?’

‘Time for you to be up! It’s Zeta, your planetary friend!’

‘Oh my– Zeta. Again.’

‘Yep! Up bright and early!’

‘It can’t be bright. It’s space.’

‘It’s the thought that counts. Don’t be such a Debbie downer!’

‘Who’s Debbie?’

‘Nevermind. Have you heard about the Great Rip? Has Gamma?’

‘Gamma doesn’t get out much. But I have. Rather boring, if you ask me.’

‘Boring? Boring?! Are you kidding? It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened since I can remember!’

‘Uh-huh. What is it, exactly? The Meteoroid Tabloid isn’t that reliable.’

‘You read that trash?’

‘It’s how I keep up on celebrity gossip. Did you know that Nebula H67-94 split up with Nebula J23-78? Apparently J23-78 cheated on H67-94 with an asteroid. Unbelievable.’

‘Wait, really? I thought they just got married? Wasn’t H67-94 pregnant with triplet stars as well?’

‘Yeah, it’s awful. An asteroid, Zeta, an asteroid.

‘Hold on, didn’t — wait! That’s off topic! I was telling you about the Rip!’

‘Right, right.’

‘It’s basically a giant vacuum. It’s like the name says, just a Rip in the fabric of space. My friend’s cousin’s boyfriend’s sister went in, and didn’t come back. I wonder what’s out there.’

‘Probably nothing.’

‘There has to be something! There can’t just be, be nothing.’

‘What exactly did you think existed before the Big Bang?’

‘I was rather fond of the theory that two existing universes collided together to make this one.’

‘And what was there before those two universes?’

‘Uh.’

‘My point exactly.’

‘Anyway! If there is nothing behind the Rip, then why is it there?’

‘Maybe the Universe sneezed.’

‘That’s boring.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, let’s make it more exciting. A cross-Universe adventurer plowed through the fabric of time and space with a shark-shaped spaceship that happened to be painted colours that haven’t been invented yet! Oh, and the traveller inside? Yep, an alien.’

‘Oh, be quiet. It’s interesting, alright?’

‘Vaguely. What do you think will happen if it grows bigger? Or more appear? We’d all get demolished.’

‘True. But I still wanna see what’s out there.’

‘An adventurer, are you?’

‘A bit.’

‘Have fun with that.’

‘Thanks, Delta!’

‘Yep.’

 

***

 

The infinite cold of space seems to be a little lonelier on the day the 11th Great Rip is discovered. Planets and stars and nebulas are disappearing by the dozens, never to be seen again. The Meteoroid Tabloid claims that the Great Rips are invented by the black holes in an attempt to destroy the ‘last of the good standing citizens of this Universe!’ The Meteoroid Tabloid conveniently ignored the fact that none of their editors have been sucked into the Great Rips themselves.

If one listens closely, navigating the Great Rips with caution, one can hear static, a ringing phone, a nervous laugh, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . .

‘I can’t believe I’m — oh, hello? Zeta?’

Nothing.

‘Zeta, are you awake? You aren’t . . . gone, are you?’

Nothing.

‘The Great Rips are getting dangerous. Don’t tell me you’ve gone to one.’

Nothing.

‘Upsilon, right? The red giant? Is Zeta there?’

Nothing.

 

***

 

The infinite cold of space is slowly, but surely, getting eviscerated by the 269 Great Rips that now exist in the Universe. Entire solar systems have been destroyed, while planets and comets flee to neighbouring nebulas in hope of safety. The Milky Way Galaxy got sucked in in one fell swoop, but no one really cared except for Halley’s comet, who is currently being comforted by an elderly white dwarf star in Andromeda. (According to the Meteoroid Tabloid, Halley’s comet is particularly mourning the loss of one planet ‘Earth’. (No one at the Meteoroid Tabloid or the white dwarf star knows who ‘Earth’ was.))

In a safe reach of space, far away from the Great Rips, one can hear static, tapping, a voice, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . .

‘Delta?’

‘Zeta?’

‘That’s my name, don’t wear it out.’

‘Oh my god, Zeta — I –’

‘Are you ok? You don’t sound ok.’

‘I — I’m fine.’

‘As long as you’re sure.’

‘I’m fine. Where have you been?’

‘How’d you know I was gone?’

‘I, uh, I just noticed you hadn’t pestered me in nearly a dozen years. Got curious, that was all.’

‘Oh! Well, I took Upsilon to see a Great Rip.’

‘Zeta! You idiot! You know how dangerous those are, right?’

‘Yeah, duh. I wasn’t born with an iron base, Delta.’

‘Nice.’

‘Anyway, Upsilon wanted to see it. He’s getting old, you know? Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s so large and gaseous that I worry he’s going to go black hole soon.’

‘Oh no. What are you going to do? Did he enjoy the Rips?’

‘I’ll probably relocate before he goes. I hear the K76-23 nebula is recruiting babysitters for the star nursery. I’ve always liked kids. And yes, he loved it! Said something about the Great Beyond, but you know how the red giants are.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Also, I don’t think you noticed, but I had a chance to visit your system while I was taking Upsilon! You didn’t tell me you had weather. I can see your hurricanes from miles away!’

‘You– you what?’

‘I visited you.’

‘And you saw my weather?’

‘Yeah?’

‘And I didn’t see you?’

‘Apparently not. Oh, also, dude, your axis? Why is it so tilted? How extreme are your seasons?’

‘Pretty extreme. My parents hate my axis. They say it’s in the ‘family genes’ to be perfectly vertical. As if.’

‘Sorry about that.’

‘It’s ok. At least I have weather, unlike my mom. She’s also iron based, which, hello, huge red flag.’

‘Your mom is iron based? That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.’

‘Right? Hey, you never told me what you looked like either. You owe me now.’

‘I’ll just visit you someday. I don’t think words will do my beauty justice, Delta.’

‘Right.’

‘Hey!’

‘Hey yourself.’

 

***

 

The infinite cold of space is smaller now. The Great Rips make up 60% of the known Universe and most planets have fled or have been sucked into the Beyond. (The Meteoroid Tabloid gave tips on relocating solar systems, but their studio disappeared before the issue could go into a second printing.) Time travellers are desperately trying to find the source of the Rips, but none of them have been successful thus far. One failed attempt caused a continual time loop in which unlimited lemon squares were shot into various black holes. (No one asked what happened.)

Against all odds, there exists a corner of space where no Great Rips live. If one has a cassette recorder, or a stethoscope, one can listen to static, the swivelling of ears, muttering, perhaps, a planet, speaking . . .

‘Delta! Yo, Delta! Delta, Delta, Delta.’

‘What? What could possibly be so important that you had to wake me up?’

‘Hi.’

‘Oh you– you’re lucky you’re barely magnetic, or I’d fling you into into Mu or Nu and have them put their full wrath on you.’

‘On that note, why are our systems so close?’

‘No idea. We seem to have drifted closer because of the Rips.’

‘We’re lucky that there aren’t any close to here.’

‘Agreed. How’s Upsilon?’

‘He’s gotten worse. His hydrogen levels are depleting, and I think he’s running the risk of nuclear fusion.’

‘I don’t want to pressure you, but if I were you, I’d say my goodbyes. Remember what happened to Sigma’s system when they refused to move?’

‘Yeah. I just don’t know where I’d go, given how the Rips have eaten everything.’

‘You could join our system.’

‘Wait, really? I thought you hated me!’

‘What can I say, you’re like a Martian fungus. You grew on me and I couldn’t do anything.’

‘Aw, love you too.’

‘Ha ha. I’m being serious, though. It’s only a matter of time before Upsilon goes black hole, Zeta. You’d be gone forever.’

‘I mean, is it that much different than eventually being sucked up by a Great Rip?’

‘I guess not.’

‘But you still haven’t seen my beauty! Dude, this morning, I discovered a weather system near my pole!’

‘That’s awesome! Congrats.’

‘I think I have to go soon. He’s getting smaller.’

‘Ok, see you soon. Be careful, Zeta.’

‘Thanks, Delta.’

 

***

The infinite cold of space is almost gone. The Great Rips are rapidly moving across the Universe, eating up everything in their path. (If the Meteoroid Tabloid was still running, it would say that the Great Rips needed to try the latest neon-only diet that came directly from Nebula B12-90, who had lost 12% of her dark matter in 2 weeks!) In a small, dark corner near the edge of the Universe, one can barely see a small solar system. A nearby black hole is spinning wildly, and gas formations around it say that the black hole is not very old. The small solar system has a steadily burning star, (if one was friends with the star, one would discover the star’s name was Gamma), and four planets. Two of them were nearly identical in size and were orbiting near each other, close to the star. The other two were further away. One was small, and carbon based. The other was larger, but seemed to be edging closer to the other planet.

If one listens closely, one can hear static, hurricanes whistling, tapping and murmuring, perhaps, planets, attempting to speak . . .

How Would Trump 2nd Term Impact China?

Hot Chicken Chili

a59515469a68629d41ac07bb0b539343
a59515469a68629d41ac07bb0b539343

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 18 chicken wings
  • Oil (for frying)
  • 1 quart tomatoes
  • 2 or 3 jalapeno peppers, chopped
  • 2 or 3 cups water
  • All-purpose flour
  • 2 (16 ounce) cans kidney beans, drained
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 1 small onion, chopped

Instructions

  1. Roll chicken wings in flour and fry in hot oil until crisp.
  2. Transfer to serving platter. Remove seeds from jalapeno peppers and chop.
  3. Combine jalapenos, kidney beans and remaining ingredients in skillet where wings were fried (don’t throw the grease away).
  4. Heat thoroughly, pour over wings and serve.

$2.9 TRILLION Stock Market Losses In One Day! w/ Ian Carroll

Shorpy

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On August 1st, 2024, the Kokang Army captured the headquarters of the Northeast Military Command in Myanmar.

main qimg 8977ab2a21d1abd6cfba2b8081df3ab5
main qimg 8977ab2a21d1abd6cfba2b8081df3ab5

The Burmese army collapsed quickly, and the Kokang Army seized a major town with a population of 800,000.

Today (August 5th, 2024), the Kokang government abolished the discriminatory ID cards issued by the Burmese government and replaced them with special district ID cards. (The Burmese government implements discriminatory policies against ethnic minorities. In addition to non-citizens, there are six types of ID cards with decreasing rights. This is rare in modern society.)

I feel that the Burmese military government is incompetent and arrogant.

As the majority ethnic group, they bully minorities, but they ended up having their military command headquarters destroyed by local armed groups of minorities?

Several division commanders were even killed, which is a huge embarrassment.

The Kokang do indeed seek independence or to be absorbed into China, but it’s unlikely to happen.

Although the Kokang are actually Han Chinese, speak Chinese, and even use Chinese textbooks for their children, China needs to consider the feelings of other ASEAN member states, so it’s unlikely to accept the Kokang.

However, I believe this doesn’t mean the Burmese military government can arbitrarily massacre them.

Anyway, we have a lot of small troops like this.

Enough to prevent a humanitarian disaster.

After all, they are Han Chinese and are right next to China.

If someone were to be so foolish as to want to massacre them, then it would be perfectly normal for them to suddenly find ten thousand drones, endless artillery shells, air defense weapons, and electronic jamming equipment growing out of the ground.

The Spiritual Connection of Cats | Why Did GOD put a CAT in your life ?

More than anything, it was Abraham Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, who bothered him. She was what was called in her day a “manic-depressive”, or rather a sufferer from bipolar personality disorder in our current lingo. Mary Todd would move between moments of great loving care, and extreme cruelty. In her manic episodes she would serve imported oysters and prove a passionate lover, in her depressive states she could be cruel, even physically abusive to her husband and sons.

main qimg 54afe2567e26b8826ca88971d160f14a
main qimg 54afe2567e26b8826ca88971d160f14a

Abraham Lincoln, despite being an exceptionally strong 6′4″ man and a former athlete of some renown, was a complete slave to his mentally unstable 5′2″ wife — a wife who would, at times, abuse and degrade him in public, much to his considerable humiliation. Often she would cruelly make Honest Abe sleep on a hard couch or even the floor when they’d have a fight. He was every bit the stereotypical “henpecked husband” one would later see in sitcoms. When the two were in good spirits, things were truly great. And when they were not, things were truly horrific. Violent moodswings would catch the Lincolns off-guard at the most inopportune of moments. And the President suffered greatly from the ensuing uncertainty that followed him wherever he went.

There have been moments where Mary Todd Lincoln’s mental state declined to such a degree that Abraham wanted to have her committed to an asylum. The death of their beloved sons further drove Mary Todd to the very edges of reason… and as she drifted in and out of sanity, her husband suffered most of all, as he carried on his shoulders the weight of the nation and failed to find refuge even inside his own home.

What?

Michele Duess

My God she is being such a bitch.“So” Ryka said, “The man died and on the third day walked out of the tomb. Another zombie story is what this sounds li“It isn’t a zombie story! He was living. Zombies don’t live.”“They walk-““They’re dead!” Why couldn’t she understand? “They rot. It’s an evil spirit that animates them. He was alive, as you and me are.”

“And he said this is my body and my blood, eat and drink it. You have to admit that is very strange.”

“It’s symbolic,” George said through gritted teeth. “It is bread we eat and wine we drink. You know that. You just want to mess with me.” Out of all the people on earth he had to get stuck with her for a partner. Out of all the people in the world he had to get stuck with this lot. She was probably the most tolerable and that wasn’t saying a whole hell of a lot. Well, he supposed, that is what happens when you get caught fencing illegal items. You get the missions no one else wants and with people you cross the street to avoid.   The police had slapped his hand until he got hold of two beehives. In this day and age, they were extremely valuable. How was he to know they were stolen from the New York Mafia? Of course, they and the FBI got involved. Some bad cesh went down, people shot, and now here he was. Unfair. Completely unfair.

“And then he rose into the sky. As if that is where heaven is.”

“Bear in mind this was written by ignorant people 2100 years ago. 2151, to be exact. Also, translated numerous times.”

“Of course it’s wrong, for that is not where the chosen place is.”

“Oh yeah? So where is it?”

“There is not one. To think there is a heaven is illogical and uneducated.”

George took some very deep breaths. Ryka had all the tact of an android. In fact, the androids had more, being programmed to be considerate. “Okay but what do your people believe? They must believe something since you just got through saying that’s not where the chosen place is.”

“It certainly is not there,” she said, gesturing at the spaceship’s window.

“I’ll grant you that.” George walked to the small port window and looked out at unfamiliar stars. How far had they come? He no longer remembered. But he knew why they were here. The private space company ASSL had found a possible earth like planet in this God forsaken region of space. Even using their new space warping devices it had taken two years to get here. This was why America took a page from history and sent criminals to scout these worlds. Criminals and the possibly insane who didn’t mind going on a spaceship for years. Truth was, ASSL would take anyone willing who didn’t get too space sick. If the criminals and the undesirables died trying, so what? At least America didn’t have to feed them. That had been a problem ever since these damned climate change immigrants had come here. At least he’d be fed better on ship than prison and a hero when he got back. If he got back. He rubbed his shoulder and wondered what his age would be then. Space warping messed with time. What had been two years for him might have been two weeks back home. Or four years for them. “But if not in the sky then where?”

“Underground. Where things grow and are nourished.” Ryka straightened herself up. “That is where it is.”

“No. That’s where hell is. It’s hot there. People burn in hell.”

“Because God lets the devil roam free to cause evil and mayhem. Yet he’s omniscient and omnipotent. Demons roam around. Ha. Your people thought-”

“I thought we long ago settled that! Besides, better than being eaten by your god, as you believe,” George growled.

“It’s a way to become one with his Holiness. We nourish him and He us.” Ryka was almost in George’s face now. They glared at each other. Then she relaxed and stepped back. “You’re insane,” she added.

“No doubt seeing as how I work with you.”

“I am the only thing that saves you.” She gave what passed for a smile for her and she went over to check the navigational system. For her size her footsteps were light. Well they did have reduced gravity on this ship. George sighed. Long ago he had made his peace with these immigrants. The war between his people and hers were over now. But it didn’t mean he wanted to share a spaceship with her and ten other idiots.

   Maybe, said his mother’s ghost in his head, if you’d listened, made an honest living…

   Maybe if you were a better damn mother, I would have…but no. You had to leave Dad to run off with that Tom moron.

  Yeah, okay, blame me. I didn’t run off. And your father was virtual world addicted. What else could I do?

  Well you might as well have run for all you helped me. I told you Tom beat me…

   “Stop talking to yourself and come look at this, George.”

“Can’t do without me, can you? I tell you you’ll miss me the day I’m gone.”

Ryka contemplated smacking him. A shame they were monitored. Easy now, she thought. This can’t be easy for him. You are an immigrant in every sense of the word.

    No. My great- great parents were. I am not.

     Still. Give the guy a break. Besides, you know as well as I do you were goading him. You cannot make fun of anyone’s religion no matter how silly.

  Oh, I will give him a break all right. “I am not sure we are staying on course. So, I seek your opinion.”

“My opinion is you can’t read.” He pushed past her and looked at the screen. “Well, you’re right. We are off. Why didn’t you correct it?” But he knew if she could, she would have. She may be annoying and more of a know it all than any android. But she also wasn’t stupid. He pressed buttons. “Why won’t the course correct?”

“I do not know. I thought it was a programming error. But that is not my forte. So, I ask you.”

George pulled up the navigational system’s program. “Hal looks okay.” Someone’s idea of a joke. “I think…it’s a hardware problem. But we got no warnings about it.” He hit the intercom button. “James! Get down here. NOW!”

  “That was my ear. Did you have to shout in it?”

“Well excuse me. It’s not my fault that moron can’t hear right.”

“I do not think he can be a moron. He has no IQ, right? So that makes him an idiot.”

“Same thing these days. James. Did you turn off an alarm?”

“I did.” James stood there looking for all the world like a handsome movie star human. Or he would have if his hair wasn’t messed up and his shirt wasn’t on backwards.

“You stupid bucket of bolts your programming is messed up again.” George sighed. It wasn’t until after he signed up and was in earth’s orbit that he learned this company cut corners in every conceivable way. And why not? This mission was probably doomed to fail so they didn’t give them the top of the line technology. That was saved for the missions that had a chance to succeed. For example, the biosphere on Mars. But only the very wealthy could afford to go there, leaving out 99 percent of the population of earth. If they found an earth-like planet with an atmosphere they didn’t have to constantly maintain, then the costs of colonizing would be a lot less. George had been born in what was left of Florida. People there ate grits, meat made from insects, dealt with rationing and spent a lot of time in online virtual worlds. They did that to forget that between the native born and the immigrants there wasn’t much plant life left. They were slowly bringing it back. Actually, the immigrants helped. They had so much knowledge that really everyone should have listened to them sooner. Meanwhile, finding another livable planet would be a big help. Even bringing back samples and seeds would help. Now George had to deal with an extremely out of date android. “Did I order you to turn off the alarms?”

“Did you?”

“Great. Now I have to go through his programming. Again.”

“Let me.” Ryka walked over and smacked the android in the back of the head. James shook, rattled, and said, “No you did not order me to turn off the alarms.”

“Works every time,” said Ryka, with her strange smile.

George shook his head, sighed, and said “Then why did you?”

“So that you could sleep uninterrupted.”

“James, you can’t do that. It’s good Ryka caught it in time that we are drifting off course. Now we need to find out why. What did the alarm say?”

“I do not know.”

Oh, what the hell. George smacked him too. It hurt like hell but it worked.

“A thruster is malfunctioning. It is the gyro. Someone must take a spacewalk and fix it.”

Ryka said, “I vote for the bucket of bolts here to do it.” She gestured at James.

“Unfortunately, I don’t trust the bucket of bolts. And you’re the hardware person. Everyone else is still asleep. It’s our shift.”

“Chivalry is dead I see,” she said.

“Been dead two hundred years. We’ll both go. Out of the goodness of my hard, little heart.”

“Gee. I am touched.”

George smiled and patted her bony shoulder. “You should be. Well, let’s go suit up and get this over with before we end up in a black hole or a sun.”

“I should be so fortunate,” Ryka muttered and went to her room to get her suit. Unfortunately, she had a feeling if she did die the Holiness would spit her back into reincarnation. And for her actions as an assassin she probably deserved it. It had all been for a good cause, protecting what was left of the Amazon rainforest from an idiot dealer and his cartel. This idiot didn’t even want to develop it for food or she might have understood. This one wanted it for coffee. A drug at best, she thought and not even a good one.  Worse, he was of her people. He claimed earth’s warming couldn’t get any worse. Did he not study their history?  Still, her actions had been unethical and not kind. Certainly, innocents had gotten caught in the fighting. Hence why she was here with this thief and liar. As if she was any better, she thought.

Suited up they went through the hatch and out onto the spaceship. At least the suits were better than the old moon walk ones. They created a force field that held oxygen and pressurized atmosphere around the wearer. They were still rather hot and restricting to wear. Furthermore, they used electromagnets to attach the astronaut to the ship. Walking was difficult. Well, for Ryka it was. George was finding it easier than he thought. Too easy, he thought. We need to be quick about this.  Slowly they made their way, pulling replacement parts behind them on a tether, over to the thruster. “The gyro is definitely burned out,” said George. “I hope it doesn’t happen again, since this is the only spare we have.”

“That cheapskate bastard of a boss,” Ryka grumbled. “She makes the damned shareholders happy while we cannot even get a decently working android never mind parts.”

“The word is bitch, Ryka. She’s female.”

“Wrong. That is an insult to all decent dogs everywhere.”

George couldn’t disagree with her there. He pulled on the tether. The bag of parts and tools floated over to him. “I don’t like this.”

“What?”

“My suit. I’m not sure the magnets are working correctly.”

“Well stop being so flatulent.” She wasn’t looking at him, not really paying attention. She was trying to pull out the old, burned gyro. Finally. she managed it and handed it to George. He gave her the new one.

“That’s too uppity. Which is your problem. Always lording your superior education over us. “

“Wrong! It is simply how I speak! You-” she broke off for she heard him cry out. She turned as quickly as could and saw his magnets had stopped working. She could see him frantically press the button on his emergency thruster pack. Nothing. He was floating away, faster than she would have thought possible.

“Jacking hell! Help me!” Thinking, she isn’t going to. He wouldn’t have blamed her. Too much risk and they didn’t like each other. Uneasy tolerance was the best they ever got. He could see her ugly gargoyle face watching him. It wasn’t exact but a close description. One hundred years ago America had climate change immigrants. They came from Venice, fleeing the rising seas. They came from Vietnam, Israel, and especially South America fleeing famine from a warming planet. America hadn’t been altogether happy about them. Aliens. You’re aliens the native born said, so go home. Then one day the real aliens came. They had made the same mistakes man did and their planet’s climate change nearly killed them. They came, hoping to be welcomed in exchange for trying to save earth. But when you look like demons from some medieval painting, George supposed, bad things happen. They couldn’t leave either. Broken ships, broken spirits. They truly had nowhere else to go. Then the fighting started, the cruelty, until no one knew who committed the worst atrocities. They only woke up when the ground and their souls were scorched. Now both human and alien were trying to save a sinking ship called earth. Or in George’s and Ryka’s case, redeem themselves.

I’m dead, George thought. Without even a priest to give me absolution. When was the last time he’d even been to Mass? Damned Catholic guilt. It never goes away. He had oxygen but soon that would deplete. There was panic although behind it was calm. So, this would be how it ends and maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Better than dying senile and drooling in a nursing home thirty years from now, he guessed. Here the stars were bright and beautiful. Close to heaven as he’d ever get. The panic ebbed. In fact he almost felt stoned. It was so peaceful now. Then something clawed at his leg and slipped away. He somehow managed to twist around and reached out. Everything slowed except for the drum in his chest, his ears. His breath came harsh and fast. He heard nothing else. George saw her hand brush his but couldn’t feel anything. He stretched so much his shoulder felt as if it would separate. Yet there was no pain, just numbness. Not even that. It was a vast and lonely detachment. Then she shouted and he felt like James might when Ryka smacked him. As if some mechanical part slipped back into place and he could hear again. She shouted at him, telling him to try his pack thrusters again, help her. He mashed the button with all his might and for an instant they fired. Just enough so they could touch-then she gripped his hand. He wrapped his arm around her waist. She fired hers and they made their way back to the ship. Ryka then turned on her magnets and pulled him next to her. George found a handhold to grab, then another, blessing whoever put them there. Maybe he or she had had a vision that one day it would save someone’s life. Then, the ladder. He pulled himself up it, found the handle for the hatch, and fell into the ship. He hit the floor hard and barely felt it. He was alive.

Byeheth culemth quelthelHeorg!” Ryka shouted at him, coming into the ship.

“English,” he whispered.

“You picked up the broken suit!” She stood over him. Her eyes shone. With what? Was that fear he saw? Concern?

“J-James. He- must have hung it with the rest.” He couldn’t yet stand so he knelt, pulling it off, throwing it from him. His breaths came in gasps. “I-will f-father jacking strangle him. Jacker.”

Ryka gently, softly touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He looked up at her from where he knelt on the floor. Trying not to cry. “Cesh! If it wasn’t for-”

“Yes, whatever.” she said, not looking at him. “Go mark that stupid suit so this does not happen again, okay? Once is enough. I will make sure we are on course.” She left. Quickly, as if embarrassed. He sat for a long time, shaking as if cold and thinking.

It was near the end of their shift, at breakfast, that he asked her why.

“Why what?” She looked away. Played with her food.

“You went after me. Risked yourself. You didn’t have to and no one would have blamed you.”

“Our bastard boss would have.”

“What’s she going to do, fire you?” George laughed. Ryka didn’t.

“I am certain you would have done the same.”

George shrugged. “Yeah. But you don’t even like me. Nor do I blame you,” he mumbled. The country had not learned its lesson the first time and had attempted some equal but separate laws. The results had been predictable. “So…” he gestured weakly.

“I am soft in the head, my friend,” Ryka said, “plus who else will I pick on? James does not get it and half of the others would stab me in my sleep.” She smiled. “Now you will just owe me one.”

“Okay.” George held out a hand and she shook it.

“I would like to know something, however.”

“Yes?”

“How do you strangle an android?”

“Special skills,” George said, smiling.

It depends on the content of the criticism

If you mean something like FJB, I’m sorry, it’s not allowed in China

China has laws to stop such public attacks on individuals and the government. Any insulting or ideological attacks are prohibited. Of course, this does not mean that you will be arrested after making certain public remarks, but your remarks will usually be deleted. It’s the same as our remarks being deleted on Youtbe or X.

If your criticism is directed at a specific event, then it’s okay.

Chinese people or the Chinese government are pragmatic. They don’t like to waste time on political slogans and empty theoretical struggles.

If what you want to express is: the government is terrible, we need a better mayor to solve the various serious problems in the city!

Such criticism will be regarded as stupid in China, no one will pay attention to you, and everyone will think you are an idiot.

They welcome such criticism:

The traffic is terrible, there is always a serious congestion every morning at 5 kilometers on Highway 3, you must do something!

The garbage problem is terrible, the creeks in Pearl Park and Green River Park are full of garbage, what is the city cleaning department doing?

My house is threatened by noise, and a group of elderly people gather in the park downstairs every morning. It makes it impossible for me to rest, and you must solve all this.

Very good, if your criticism is like this. Then you have mastered the trick of criticizing the Chinese government.

This kind of criticism will have two dimensions of effect

1. Criticism itself

The government will have a specialist to evaluate your criticism (it may also be with the help of AI), your criticism will be classified, the jurisdiction will be determined, and it will be pushed to the corresponding responsible department.

The department that receives the criticism will investigate the situation you criticized and reply to you about their investigation and handling. And ask you to make a final evaluation of the case.

If you are not satisfied, you can appeal to their superior department again.

2. Statistical significance

When citizens have a lot of criticism around the same issue, such criticism will be upgraded to the perspective of “global problems”. This may mean that a department or an official has not performed his duties correctly, resulting in “bulk” dissatisfaction. Such problems are often given priority and trigger performance appraisals of officials. Severe cases may even trigger investigations and accountability of officials.

In fact, the Chinese government has set up many channels to accept people’s criticism, such as reception offices, emails, and hotlines. The most popular way is to submit your criticism through the Internet.

When I visited Shanghai, one of my female colleagues showed me a process of criticizing the government.

A new viaduct was built under the apartment building where she lived. This viaduct was to solve the traffic congestion on that road (nearby residents have been complaining for a long time)

But after the viaduct was built, the speed of vehicles increased significantly.

This brought more serious road noise, affecting the rest of the residents in the adjacent apartment building.

She was one of them, and she submitted her complaint about the matter through the website of the Mayor’s Mailbox of the Shanghai Municipal Government.

Three days later, her complaint was submitted to the Minhang District Traffic Management Bureau of Shanghai.

The Minhang District Traffic Management Bureau responded to the criticism two days later. It said that the construction of this viaduct had passed the environmental protection approval of the municipal government and was legal. Regarding the noise issue, they will be handed over to the Environmental Protection Bureau.

The Minhang District Environmental Protection Bureau replied two days later that they would send a commissioner to the vicinity of the viaduct to measure the noise. A week later, the Environmental Protection Bureau responded to the message: the noise measurement has been completed, and they believe that the noise at night is within the legal range. They hope that she can understand this matter and make a closure evaluation on this matter.

My female colleague obviously disagreed with the government’s explanation, so she called on her neighbors to criticize on the website, and they submitted the same opinions. About a week later, this opinion was raised to a higher level, and the Shanghai Municipal Government Environmental Protection Bureau intervened. Two weeks later, representatives of the residents of the apartment building were summoned to hold a hearing.

Two months later, a tunnel-shaped soundproof wall was built on the viaduct to completely isolate the traffic noise of the viaduct.

This criticism of the Shanghai Municipal Government was closed after several months.

This is a typical case of Chinese citizens criticizing the government and waiting for the government to respond to the criticism.

All the contents of these documents can be checked on the government website and made public to everyone.

Be a great Dad

Hearty Chili Roni

Macaroni is a great addition to this family favorite. Cooking the macaroni with the ground beef and seasonings for this Hearty Chili Roni makes cleanup a snap.

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Prep: 5 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
  • 1/2 cup chopped onion
  • 1 package McCormick® Chili Seasoning Mix, Original or McCormick® Chili Seasoning Mix, Mild
  • 1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 (14 ounces) can reduced sodium beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 1/2 cups uncooked elbow macaroni
  • 1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook ground beef, bell pepper and onion in large skillet over medium-high heat for 4 to 5 minutes or until beef is browned.
  2. Add Seasoning Mix; stir until well mixed.
  3. Stir in tomatoes, beef broth and tomato paste. Bring to boil. Stir in macaroni. Reduce heat to medium; cover and cook for 10 minutes or until pasta is tender.
  4. Sprinkle with cheese; cover. Let stand for 5 minutes or until cheese is melted.

Paul sounds like a decent dude.

On the trail of the shale

A problem with food banks, and eating randomly when the opportunity arises, it that a lot of what these agencies provide is processed foods that are heavily laden with salts, sugars, non-nutritious fats, and many chemicals (including preservatives) that can be toxic to the body. If I were low on monetary and food resources, I would shoot for the natural, nutritious foods that are inexpensive or easily obtainable. Buy them in bulk if possible. Examples of inexpensive foods that pack a nutritional punch, ones that are also tasty:

  1. The humble potato. They can be chopped up, smeared in extra virgin olive oil and baked in a microwave oven. Avoid the butter, margarine, ghee, etc. Do not fry the potatoes like they do the French fries. You could add spices, depending on your taste. Also add tomato paste before the baking. The nutritional value of the potato is very high, but loading it with trans-fatty oils, high cholesterol fluids will negate the value. And the potato is tasty and filling.
  2. But for those who are diabetic or pre-diabetic, an alternative to potatoes that is both filling and low sugar and calorie is the carrot. And carrots are both inexpensive and easy to consume as either raw, medium-cooked, or fully-cooked. You can more easily lose weight while eating carrots, although they are not as nutritious as potatoes, But eating a balanced assortment of nutritious foods will make up for that.
  3. Tomato paste, mentioned above is a thoroughly inexpensive way to eat tomatoes. The red paste is a concentrated and safely processed form of the highly nutritious tomato. A huge bulky can is sold for about $5, would last for weeks in the cooler, even if you use a lot of it every day.
  4. Some in the bean family such as cowpeas, lentils, and garbanzo beans. Buy them raw, to defray the expenses and to avoid the salted canned ones. Place them in water overnight. This will hydrate and soften them and make them easier and faster to cook the next day.
  5. Oatmeal. A canister, depending on size, will last you weeks or even months.
  6. The egg is famously nutritious, and one a day is enough. Boiled, or fried in olive oil. Wonderful animal protein, many B-vitamins.
  7. Drink your tea or coffee in moderation. The antioxidants are there and helps keep you alert. Use stevia, the natural no-calorie sweetener….inexpensive and not bulky. Cut out the sugar, the Equal, and the Splenda. Go for Stevia….comes in several name brands.
  8. An orange or tangerine a day does wonders.
  9. Carrots are another inexpensive nutritious powerhouse.
  10. Eat your nuts. The least inexpensive way to consume nuts , and to avoid overeating them is to buy them in bulk at the grocery store or places like nuts.com. And of course, many roasted nuts from the stores are overrated. If say you placed small amounts of a Brazil nut, almonds, walnuts, sunflower seeds, pepitas, peanuts, flaxseeds, etc (or whatever you prefer) in a small Pyrex bowl, added some water and olive oil, microwaved the mixture, you would come out with a very nutritious homemade power bar. Just don’t over roast or burn. Having natural foods at home is not only cheap, but deters you from overeating, and eating processed foods. Also, prepare your snacks at home. Nuts place you in a good mood
  11. Banana. Delicious and nutritious, and filling, mood-enhancing, hydrating, inexpensive. One a day does the trick.
  12. Water…drink your water. This can’t be emphasized enough. This is the medium of body and other functions
  13. Go for inexpensive vegetables, rainbow colors, instead of the tv diners which are hazardous to your health. Eating natural foods makes it so much less expensive to manage your health
  14. Exercising goes well with eating inexpensively and nutritiously, whether you are on a budget or not. My list is inexhaustible, but I suppose a reasonable guideline.
  15. A bit of garlic/onion should be incorporated in the diet, daily.

Be the Rufus

“No one ever buries a hoard of coins, especially precious metal coins, without intending to retrieve it.” Christopher Ratte.

Some Persian soldiers had buried their treasure at the time when the last remnants of Persian soldiers and Persian sympathizers were driven out of Hellenistic Greece. Archaeologist Christopher Ratte and his team have been in Western Turkey for years working on the ancient site of Notion – then part of Ionia – and have found a pot of rare Persian gold coins in what appears to be a basement room.

Credit: Notion Archaeological Project.

The New York Times has published a story on this find, with interviews of Christopher Ratte. Here is a share of that article:

By Franz Lidz, Aug. 2, 2024

It is the late fifth century B.C. and a mercenary soldier kneels in his modest quarters, digging a hole in the earthen floor. He places a small jug, called an olpe, in the hole for safekeeping and covers it with dirt. In the olpe are his savings — scores of gold coins, known as darics, each one equal to a month’s pay.

But something happens to the soldier — possibly something sinister — and he never retrieves his hoard, which remains undiscovered for the next 2,400 years.

That is one of several scenarios proposed by Christopher Ratté, an archaeologist at the University of Michigan, to account for the cache, which he and his research team recently unearthed from the ruins of Notion, an ancient city-state in modern-day Turkey. While digging beneath the courtyard of a house dating to the third century B.C., the excavators found the remains of an earlier dwelling. “The coins were buried in a corner of the older building,” Dr. Ratté said. “We weren’t actually looking for a pot of gold.”

Darics were chiefly used to provide payment to soldiers of fortune. Andrew Meadows, an archaeologist at the University of Oxford who was not involved in the project, said he knew of no other hoard of this type to turn up in Asia Minor. “This is a find of the highest importance,” he said. “The archaeological context for the hoard will help us fine-tune the chronology of Achaemenid gold coinage.”

The archaeological site at Notion spans 80 acres atop a promontory in western Anatolia, a borderland dividing Asia from Europe. It was one of the Greek-speaking communities that emerged in the region during the early first millennium B.C., perhaps because of migration across the Aegean Sea. The deposition and loss of the Notion hoard occurred at a time of warfare, insecurity and great power machinations in a contested frontier zone.

This was true in deepest antiquity, as remembered in the story of the Trojan War,” Dr. Ratté said. “And it remains true to this day, as demonstrated by the Syrian refugee crisis.” He noted that the small harbor on the east side of the city was one of the departure points for Syrian refugees who fled across Turkey to Europe during the refugee crisis a decade ago.

Anatolia is the birthplace of the Western world’s first state-issued coin, the stater, which was created by a seafaring people called Lydians. King Alyattes standardized the weight and design of the Lydian stater, which, beginning around 610 B.C., was struck in electrum, a natural alloy of gold and silver. The king’s son and successor, Croesus, is credited with minting the first true gold coin, the Croeseid. The expression “rich as Croesus” refers to his extravagant wealth as well as the opulence of Lydia during his rule.

Fortifications at Notion, a Greek-speaking community that emerged in western Anatolia during the early first millennium B.C. Credit: Notion Archaeological Project/University of Michigan.

Excavations at Notion last year. While digging beneath the courtyard of a house dating to the third century B.C., researchers found the remains of an earlier dwelling and a cache buried there. Credi: Notion Archaeological Project/University of Michigan.

In 546 B.C., the entire area, known as Ionia, was conquered by the Achaemenid Persian Empire. Although Croesus was defeated in battle by Cyrus the Great, his gold-based monetary system lived on. The Persians continued to manufacture Croesids until they introduced their own bimetallic currency, made up of silver and gold coins. The silver coins were called sigloi, and the gold ones were darics — a name derived from either Darius I, who ruled the Persian Empire from 522 B.C. to 486 B.C., or dari-, the root of the Old Persian word for gold.

In 427 B.C., according to the Greek historian Thucydides, an Athenian general named Paches attacked and killed a troop of pro-Persian mercenaries at Notion after luring their commander into a trap. The Persian sympathizers were then expelled, and Notion was reorganized under Athenian supervision.

Two decades later, a decisive naval battle in the Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta was fought off the coast of Notion, which the Athenians had been using as a naval base. Dr. Ratté said that the gold hoard might have been connected to the events of 427 B.C., or later, with the Athenian evacuation of Notion.

“It is possible it was not associated with either of these dramatic events,” he said, “but was simply the savings of a veteran mercenary soldier in a time and place when soldiers of fortune could make a lot of money if they were willing to risk their lives for the highest bidder.” Many Greeks fought for the Persian Empire, including the Athenian historian Xenophon, who was an active mercenary for the Persian king Cyrus the Younger from 401 B.C.- to 400 B.C. — the same time period when the Notion hoard was tucked away.

In 387 B.C., within a generation after the Athenians were defeated by the Spartans, Notion and the other cities of Ionia were reintegrated into the Persian Empire. They remained Persian possessions until the conquest of Alexander the Great in 334 B.C., at which point production of the daric quickly declined. Alexander and his immediate successors had many of the existing gold pieces melted down and recast as coins bearing their images, making darics rare today.

The Notion darics are stamped on the front with a likeness of the Persian king kneeling in a long tunic. In his left hand is a bow; in his right, a long spear. The backs of the coins are blank, except for a punch mark. The hoard is being stored at the Ephesus Archaeological Museum in nearby Selcuk, Turkey, along with imported Athenian pottery that was recovered at the dig.

Dr. Ratté believes that the fact that the loot was never reclaimed is a clear sign of disaster. “No one ever buries a hoard of coins, especially precious metal coins, without intending to retrieve it,” he said. “So only the gravest misfortune can explain the preservation of such a treasure.”

Truth

Why do mathematicians and physicists have issues with infinity being real? How does it break our understanding of things?

How did you draw the conclusion that; “mathematicians and physicists have issues with infinity being real?”, explain go into more detail. Unless of course you are a mathematician or psychist and you yourself have issues with infinity being real?

In mathematics, infinity is not just a vague notion of endlessness, but a rigorously defined concept that can be expressed in multiple ways, i.e., cardinality of sets, ordinal numbers, limit concept, symbolic representation, to name a few. Mathematicians have developed sophisticated tools to work with infinity, which strongly suggest that overall they do not have issues with it.

But, from a physics stand point things start to get complicated as the concept of infinity is more problematic and often indicates a limitation of our theories rather than a physical reality. This manifests itself in a number of ways, cosmology and quantum mechanics being prime examples. It is also a challenge when we start talking about black holes and singularities that represent points where physical quantities become infinite, suggesting a breakdown of the theory of infinity, as “normal” rules just don’t apply or they breakdown completely, which in real terms is nothing more than the end point of our understanding.

Many physical models use infinity as a form of idealization, and what I mean by that is, a lot of physical models use infinity as a convenient approximation (e.g., point particles, infinite potential wells), while still recognizing these are idealizations. Keeping in mind that no physical measurement can ever yield an infinite value, as all measuring devices have finite ranges, otherwise what’s the point of attempting to measure something in the first place?

You have not covered the philosophical perspective of infinity in your question which in many ways is just as important as it is in physics, mathematics and the physical world itself. Things like; does infinity actually exist in nature, or is it merely a useful mathematical construct? Infinity leads to numerous paradoxes (e.g., the paradox of Hilbert’s Grand Hotel, for more detail on this go to Wikipedia) that as a thought experiment challenges our intuitive understanding of what we believe infinity actually is. Infinity often represents the boundary of what we can know or are able to measure, that highlights the limits of human understanding.

Then we come to the practical implications of infinity. Some theories for example that produce infinite results often lose their predictive power, which indicates a lot more refinement is required. Infinite series and processes must be truncated for practical calculation purposes, which introduces a need for approximations, as there is absolutely no point them going on forever.

The appearance of so-called infinities in physical theories often drives a search for a more comprehensive framework to work within, (i.e., quantum gravity attempts to resolve singularities in general relativity). This is a signal, or indication that different thinking needs to be applied and more intensive research is required. To that end, in my mind infinity is not an end point, but simply a marker that requires one to go onto the next stage, whatever that may be.

Infinity in mathematics is a well-defined and useful concept that allows for the exploration of abstract ideas beyond finite limitations. In physics, infinity often signals the limits of a theory’s applicability, which then prompts further, deeper investigation and refinement of our understanding of the physical world. The interplay between mathematical infinity and physical reality of infinity is basically a work in progress and will continue indefinitely, as, when you think about it, is there any end to infinity?” Perhaps no…as that is what infinity is, across just about all domains no matter how one thinks about it or how it is expressed.


  • Q1: Why do mathematicians and physicists have issues with infinity being real?
  • A1: I don’t think they really do..is infinity is a concept on all levels is not fully 100% “resolvable”.

  • Q2: How does it break our understanding of things?
  • A2: Again, I don’t think it does, it is more a boundary where our understanding stops and it is merely an indicator that we need to dig deeper, refine and further our understanding. Human knowledge always has and always will have a limit, it will never, ever be infinite.

At the end of the day, there will never be an answer to your two-part question, it will go on forever, all the way to infinity and beyond…whatever that is…

ALIEN (1979) MOVIE REACTION!

Yes.

This was brought home to me during an exercise in the mid-80’s when I was a young Engineer Platoon Leader. My platoon was attached to an Infantry Battalion for a long field training exercise. We were equipped with HMMVW’s with TOW missiles and were trying to operate against tanks. That turned out to be pretty tricky, the tanks were very good, and the tactics we were using were not fully developed. We ended up getting kicked around the training area pretty routinely.

In one scenario, the Brigade Commander, a full Colnel and a Vietnam Veteran ordered the Battalion I was working with to hold a particular pass “at all costs.” The Battalion did a credible job defending, but then got flanked, which led to the Battalion Commander, also a Vietnam Vet, to order a withdrawl.

I was pretty new, but I thought at the time that this was a good call. In my view, holding onto the position any longer than we had would have led to the extinction (ln the exercise) of the Battalion, about 500 guys. The Battalion Commander wanted to live to fight another day, and what he was doing was doctrinally sound.

This particular point got discussed at length during the After Action Review. The Battalion Commander got asked why he ordered the withdrawal when he was ordered to stand. He laid out his reasoning, which made sense to me. I was there. There wasn’t anything else to do.

There was this long silence. Then the Brigrade Commander looked at the Battalion Commander with this laser-beam look and says, “John, if I tell you to go die on some hill, I’ve got a damned good reason for doing it. My concerns, the Division’s concerns, are bigger than yours. If I have to sacrafice your Battalion in order to preserve something bigger, it’s my job to order you to do it. It’s your job to take your boys and go out and die.”

This is the dark side of combat that no one really likes to talk about. It doesn’t happen often, normally because of a miscalculation or mistake, but units get asked to make these kinds of sacrafices. When you are an officer, if you’re doing your job right, your unit is like your family. Words that describe how close units bind together in combat fail me. Others have done it much better. These are your brothers, your sisters, your children. When you get asked to do something like this, it’s like asking your children to go out and die for you. Then you have go out and die with them.

Anyway, I’ve never forgotten it. It made me think through a lot of things before I became a Company Commander and had to take folks to war.

Its all about timing

  1. Face culture comes from Confucian culture. As a unique cultural and psychological phenomenon of the Chinese people, face culture has greatly influenced the daily social life of the Chinese people.
  2. North Americans are Christian culture
  3. Arabs, Somalis, Afghans, Nigerians are Islamic culture
  4. Turkic and Mongolians are nomadic culture
  5. The values ​​of Dignity, honor, face are different among Christian culture, Islamic culture and nomadic culture, and the difference is very big.

Honor and face cultures attach great importance to regulating individual behavior by social expectations and cultural norms. However, the two cultural phenomena differ in several crucial aspects.

The new cultural framework of dignity, honor, and face was proposed based on three different cultural logics and reveals that while both honor culture and face culture place importance on adhering to social norms, honor culture places greater emphasis on both self-awareness and external evaluations for self-worth, whereas face culture places more weight on external evaluations.

Additionally, honor culture is characterized by an unstable social hierarchy prone to competition, violence, and virtue, while face culture prioritizes modesty, harmony, and cooperation within a more stable hierarchy. Especially at banquets, whether or not to drink is directly related to face.

From indigenous perspectives, the self-image and social image in honor culture are relatively consistent, and honor encompasses moral, gender, and family-related aspects that may be defended through violence. In contrast, self-image and social image in face culture tend to be incongruent, and face involves morality and social achievement, which is expressed through the dimensions of seeking face and avoiding losing face with an emphasis on status and authority.

Combined with the above two perspectives, these core differences between honor and face cultures can be attributed to the moralization and instrumentalization of social cultural norms.

Specifically, honor tends to moralize social and cultural norms by transforming descriptive norms into prescriptive norms, where majority and typical behaviors that exist in a culture are considered behaviors that group members should or must abide by. In contrast, face instrumentalizes social and cultural norms by using descriptive and prescriptive norms as means and tools to maintain relationships, demonstrate status, and uphold authority.

This perspective provides new insights into cultural phenomena, such as the positive correlation between violence and virtue in honor cultures, where violence becomes a social norm that adapts to the honor culture environment and is moralized into a virtuous attribute. The social norm of harmony in face culture exists both as value-oriented harmony influenced by Confucian culture and instrumental harmony in daily life, leading to a dissonance between face and heart.

Biscuits

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Roisin O’Riordan

She was going to kill him. She was actually going to murder him. Yes, she has said it plenty of times before but this time she meant it. This time she would drag him by his stupid hair to an airlock and shove him out to space where he can suffocate.Seven months. She lasted seven months stuck in this shuttle with him, but now she was finally going to crack.It started off with the computer. He programmed it to call him “Hot Stuff.” She changed it back. Then, he programmed it to call him “King of the Bandages.” Once again, she changed it back. Twenty nine nicknames later-yes, she kept a list-the most recent development was “Big McDaddy.”And since his names apparently weren’t keeping him preoccupied, he decided to spend time obsessing over hers. Specifically, her first name. On the top of her medical file is “B. Miller” neatly typed out, but he wanted to know more. The guesses started off sensible enough with Bella and Bethany-they have now devolved into Bread and Bacteriochlorophylls.And somehow, no matter what happens, he won’t stop grinning. No one should be as cheery as this guy, it doesn’t seem healthy. Every time she sees him she wants to growl in frustration, but he remains as sunny as the actual suns they pass.But this time is worse than all those other time. This time he took the biscuit because this time he broke a rule that could get himself and her fired. This time he… well, he took the biscuits.”I can’t believe you!” She screeched, storming into the medical bay. “I can’t believe you would actually steal from the passengers!””I’m sorry?” He asked looking up from a rather heavy looking book. He was still smiling. Asshole.”The biscuits. Don’t even try to deny it. I know it was you who took them.””Ok.” He went back to reading.”Ok?” That threw her off her guard. She was expecting an argument. For him to try feign innocence before she finally broke him and he begged her not to tell their boss. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

 

“Ok, I won’t deny it. I took the biscuits.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything else or…?”

 

“Well… well… what do you have to say for yourself?” Her voice got weaker and weaker throughout the sentence. She really had no idea where she wanted to go with that.

 

“…They tasted nice?” Oh, that made her blood boil.

 

“Nice? Taste? That’s not what I was asking. Do you know how much trouble you could be in for this.” He was an idiot, he had to be. Maybe, he just didn’t care. No that couldn’t be it, could it? This job involves being away from Earth for years at a time and being fired tends to mean never getting work anywhere else. Maybe he thought the job would be easy and that he would get away with stuff like this. Not on her watch.

 

“I know how much trouble I will be in-none. No one cares. No one apart from you. Speaking of which, why do you care?”

 

He is unbelievable. “I care because I was put in charge of making sure everything is ready for when the passengers wake up.”

 

It is a requirement of every shuttle to have at least one engineer, and, if asked, she would tell people that she is the engineer-because she is. However, the shuttle is built fairly sturdy, and the AI seems to be doing a fine job of maintaining everything. It’s not that she wants things to go wrong… it would just be nice if there were a few mishaps that called for her assistance. This lack of jobs can make floating in space a tad boring, hence her eagerness to take on the role of an over-glorified party planner.

 

“Look,” he said, closing his book, “in eight months time we’re stopping for fuel at a space station. If we happen to be low on supplies-which we won’t be ’cause these passengers have more than enough-we can stock up then.”

 

“What if one of them wakes up?” It’s a weak argument but one she feels strongly about. She has read every story there was on passengers waking up from the deep sleep they are put into before take off. The passengers they were currently transporting were Taubverlians, so the four year journey would probably feel like a human’s version of a week to them but apparently it’s a week they would rather sleep through. What if they woke up angry? What if they got so annoyed they decided to file a complaint? What if those biscuits were the only thing that would have been able to calm them down and stop them from demanding the whole crew gets fired? It’s unlikely, but it is possible.

 

“Really?” He asked. She glared at him with cold, unforgiving eyes. “You need to calm down before you give yourself a stroke. I check, double check and triple check each passenger’s pod everyday and there hasn’t been even the slightest hint that one of them might wake up before they’re supposed to.” He let out a sigh and for the first time since she met him, his smile faltered. “It’s your first trip right? Thought as much. You see, after a while, you will start to get bitter. You’ll start to resent the passengers, our bosses, whoever it is at home that you’re sending your wages back to. The thought that you will more than likely be working here until the day you die and the knowledge that it is extremely rare for a crew member to ever see Earth again combined with the fact that if someone in charge screws up and needs someone to blame we will probably be killed… well, at some point or another, it gets to you. That’s why I play around with the AI and steal the occasional biscuit. That’s why Ellie stole a bottle of whiskey. That’s why Charlie is cheating on her husband with Smith. These acts keep us sane. And they’re not hurting anyone-not if no one finds out.”

 

She could somewhat sympathise. Ok, she could sympathise a lot. She was bitter. Of course she was bitter about… everything, but she wasn’t going to complain. Her family needed her to have this job, and so must his-it’s not like he would ever see his wages, so they have to be going somewhere.

 

“Our supervisors don’t care as long the passengers get to their destination safe and sound. You can relax, Birdy.”

 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “That is not what the B stands for.”

 

His smile was now back to full voltage as he realised he won. “We have been in this tin can for seven months and I still don’t know anything about you. What are your hopes, your dreams, your fears? Where are you from? And what exactly does the B stand for? It doesn’t stand for Biscuit, does it?”

 

She may come to regret this, but at the moment her stress is leaving her and she feels… lonely. She doesn’t have anybody to talk to on this shuttle apart from when she is arguing with him. Hearing him talk about their colleagues that he clearly knows so much better than she does just reminded her of how much she has isolated herself. “Brooklyn.”

 

“You’re from Brooklyn? Cool, I have a cousin that lives there, or used to at least.”

 

“No-well, yes I am from Brooklyn but, that’s what the B stands for.” The look on his face was almost worth it. Almost.

 

“So, you’re from Brooklyn… and your name is-”

 

“Oh, shut up.” She tried to fight a grin.

 

“…Were your parents really worried about you forgetting where you lived?”

 

“I shouldn’t have told you. I should have just stuck to Biscuit.”

 

He let out a laugh at that. Dear god, it was brighter than his smile. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry Biscuit.” She shot him a glare with much less heat than the previous one. It was kind of nice talking to him-not that she would ever dream of saying it to him. Just before she got a chance to retort, a series of short beeps filled the room. “Time for me to go check on the passengers again.”

 

“Oh, right. I have work I need to go do as well.” She turned to leave, ignoring the pang in her chest. She has her work to focus on, friends would just take up time.

 

“Wait.” He tossed her a small metal box. She stared at the box, then at him, then back again. At his nod she opened up the latches and the contents very nearly managed to surprise a snort out of her. Biscuits.

Tension Subsiding in South China Sea

Changing Geo-Political arrangements.

Mr. Xi doesn’t terrify me, but he certainly “terrifies” my German friend. Let’s call him Karl.

Obviously, Karl isn’t a basketcase of nailbiting anxiety and fear over a man a continent away. But he related a spine-tingling moment some years back listening to the news while driving on the autobahn.

Before we get into that, a little background about Karl.

Karl, perhaps unsurprisingly, speaks Chinese. What tickles me though, is he speaks funny Chinese.

Notice I said Chinese and not Mandarin.

Karl speaks a creole of accented Mandarin and horror of horrors, the Changsha dialect.

Now, try making sense of the hilarity hearing a thick German accent fighting his own tongue to make the proper tone for Mandarin words abused by the Changsha pronunciation.

After all these years, I have concluded he has been putting up a show all along to bewilder and get a rise out of me deciphering his words.

He has a future in standup, if he ever needs a change of scenery.

Back on topic. What piece of news made him nervous? It was a single statistic from China’s anti-corruption drive.

“More than a million party officials have been disciplined.”

He was flabbergasted by how seriously the Chinese were taking the campaign because when he was there, he had concluded corruption was so deeply ingrained in the culture it was impossible to root out. In fact, that was a primary reason why he left China, even though the money was lucrative.

Karl has an interesting way of bringing his point across, and he was ready when I pressed.

“China isn’t Germany. A million out of a billion is a mere drop.”

“Yes, but China either gives lip service or they do a thorough job. 1 million is a thorough job.”

“True. But why should that jolt?”

“Because nothing happened, Bill.”

“What do you mean nothing happened?”

Evidently he was waiting for this moment of weakness because he broke into a sly smile and declared:

“Nothing happened to President Xi.”

I was truly incredulous.

“I lost you Karl. You expected him to fall victim to the campaign he initiated because he is dirty too?”

“No, silly. The fact nothing happened means we have witnessed the coronation of the first Chinese emperor of the 21st century, if only in practice.”

“Now you sound like a flat earther.”

“No no. Nothing far-fetched. How do you think they land a big fish like Zhou Yongkang? Using the police? Or the army?”

“The President probably ordered his arrest personally.”

“Yes but what was the investigative apparatus and how did they manage to arrest him? Zhou was the security tsar.”

“Oh. I think I’m understanding. Even the FBI will have trouble arresting the vice President.”

“Sort of. The Xi administration basically set up their own supralegal modern day Embroidered Uniform Guard that was vested with political power to deal with anyone, even the biggest fish. The million they mentioned? A substantial number are senior cadres, nodes in the power structure. The Chinese think in terms of guanxi or relationships so tackling corruption equals identifying and destroying webs of collusion.”

“Do you think Xi went too far?”

“No. He did a fantastic job. I am just surprised the faction wars didn’t flare up in response. Not even a whimper. Xi has great standing within the party.”

“Ok, so he cleaned up. Why does that terrify you? He is more powerful than ever?”

“Not really. People fail to realize the five year plans were being executed like clockwork in the midst of rampant corruption. He would have reached the state objectives without rocking the boat.”

“He did not need to pick this fight?”

“No. He had to. It was the right time.”

“The stars didn’t align for Jiang and Hu?”

“Yes. The force was not with them.”

“The FORCE? Dude, you have been playing me all day!”

“Electricity, my boy. You can build the fanciest roads and buildings but without electricity you cannot urbanize.”

*Incredulous stare*

“For sure it is electricity. Hu was a hydroelectric engineer. China’s electricity output increased more than 2-fold during his time in office.”

“What does it have to do with corruption?”

“China essentially went full steam ahead to urbanize. Jiang wasn’t even sure how the system would work as it transited from Central planning to market economics as it spread inland from the SARs. Hu laid the foundation to guarantee future growth. The GFC gave China the breathing space to shape a cultural change among the ruling elite. A bunch of people got rich too quickly and developed money fever.”

“What does the GFC have to do with it?”

“China’s economy fundamentally shifted post 2008. China finally flexed her domestic muscle and decided they had to be less reliant on the west. But they had to inevitably slow down as the west recovered from a balance sheet and sovereign debt crisis. It is this recentering to OBOR and domestic growth that gave Xi the breathing space to tackle corruption nationwide.”

“Man, that’s deep but all that says is China has a good man at the helm. What makes him fearsome?”

“Well, when I was there the way the Chinese were throwing money around was unbelievable. Too much waste. And too many funny things going on. Putting a stop to that means the Chinese are getting on board the next stage of growth, one that is much higher in quality, and sustainable. The Chinese rocket shot up the sky in spite of excesses. Can you imagine a people without? Us Germans are counting the days when the Chinese become direct competitors to German technology and quality. The Chinese are getting their act together.”

Note: The emperor reference is no insinuation of shenanigans. Rather it is Karl’s intent to frame how far the Xi administration can push reform. In other words, Xi has the people’s mandate, just like a legitimate Son of Heaven.


Karl is real, but I’ve paraphrased our conversation.

Note: The profundity of Karl’s astute observations is contained within the satellite composites of nightime China, taken two decades apart.

Bill Pfeiffer’s Chili Capital Punishment

Bill Pfeiffer’s Chili Capital Punishment is the winner of 1980 World’s Championship!

chili 1
chili 1

chili 3
chili 3

chili 4
chili 4

Yield: 14 to 18 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 tablespoon oregano
  • 2 tablespoons paprika
  • 2 tablespoons MSG
  • 9 tablespoons chili powder
  • 4 tablespoons cumin
  • 4 tablespoons beef bouillon (instant crushed)
  • 2 cans beer
  • 2 cups water
  • 4 pounds extra lean chuck (chili grind)
  • 2 pounds extra lean pork (chili grind)
  • 1 pound extra lean chuck, cut into 1/4 inch cubes
  • 2 large onions, finely chopped
  • 10 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 1/2 cup oil or kidney suet
  • 1 teaspoon mole (powdered)
  • 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon coriander
  • 1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 tablespoon Masa Harina
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  1. In a large pot, add oregano, paprika, MSG, chili powder, cumin, beef bouillon, beer and water. Let simmer.
  2. In a separate skillet, brown 1 1/2 pounds of meat in oil or suet until meat is light brown.
  3. Drain and add to simmering spices. Continue browning meat in batches until all meat has been added.
  4. Sauté finely chopped onions in oil or suet. Add to spices and meat mixture. Add water as needed. Simmer two hours. Add mole (MOE-lay), sugar, coriander, hot pepper sauce and tomato sauce. Simmer for 45 minutes.
  5. Dissolve Masa Harina in warm water and add to chili. Add salt to taste. Simmer for 30 minutes.

I was born in 1965, which means I am 59 as I write this response. In the 1980s, I worked as a DJ in a bar called The Notorious Club 26, and I played music from the 1950s, 1960s, and early 1970s.

As the DJ, I would say things like, “Remember, never trust anyone over 30. If you are over 30, don’t trust yourself.” As a 20-something, I thought I was being funny. Then a horrible thing happened: I turned 30 in 1995.

I was single at the time, and I realized that all the time I wasted being a DJ interfered with my social and personal life. I worked 6 days a week, and on Tuesday of each week, I got paid. Who wants to go out on a date on a Tuesday? Who wants date some who works from 9 pm until 3:30 AM?

I wass 30, looking back from where I came, and realized that I had wasted the last 10 years of my life. I worked, made very good money, got a lot of cash tips for the customers, loved my job, but my life sucked. All I did was work, sleep, and do household jobs. I had no social life.

I kept working but I also went back to college, and finally finished the work for my BA. After that, I was able to quit the DJ job and work during the day instead of being a vampire on a day pass.

I’m not going to lie: 30 seemed old to me. When I turned 40, I got a card that said something like 40 is the new 30.

I’m 59 years old now, and my hair is gray, just like my beard, and my body is a wreck. However, I know that my life has been full and fun. I’m not sure what comes next, but I am looking forward to the trip.

Johnny West 1960s toy figurines

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As a Chinese person, I never felt any connection to the “patriotism” that the Chinese Communist Party instilled in me since childhood.

In elementary school, our teachers told us, “The most important principle in writing is to show your love for China.” Well, I didn’t understand at all. How could a child possibly grasp what it means to “love China”? For an elementary student, “patriotism” is nothing but outdated stories and empty political slogans.

As I grew older, my aversion to “patriotism” only increased. The reason was obvious: if “patriotism” had a significant impact on one’s well-being, why had I never seen anyone get rich because they “loved China”? And why had I never seen anyone fall into a miserable situation because they “didn’t love China”?

When I started using the internet, I discovered more meaningful things. I realized that China could only avoid destruction by embracing Western political systems. During that time, I read many articles by “independent Chinese intellectuals,” including economists, Chinese immigrants abroad, lawyers, and entrepreneurs.

Back then, I hoped these independent intellectuals could awaken the “numb Chinese people” through their writings. They were active on BBS, blogs, social media, and China’s version of Twitter. I spent a lot of time reading their articles and enthusiastically commenting. I admired them and saw them as the future political stars of China. At that time, I had my own blog called “A Chinese Citizen,” with the slogan “For a Bright Future of China.” I wrote every day, and when I had nothing to write about, I would repost negative news about China and add my own gloating comments.

The trolls on Quora today are nothing compared to the old me.

Later, I got married and had my own child. As a freelancer, I had time each day to spend with my growing child. To expose my child to nature, I took them to many places. Busy with accompanying my child, working, cooking, and doing laundry every day, my life focus gradually shifted.

One summer evening when my child was three years old, we drove to a famous large lake in northern Xuzhou called Weishan Lake. A section of the Grand Canal passes through the Weishan Lake area. The sunset bathed the hundred-kilometer-long embankment road along Weishan Lake in golden light. My wife, captivated by the beauty, asked me to stop the car for a while. I parked by the roadside, and we were greeted by the cool evening breeze and the slightly fishy smell of the lake water. We all quietly listened to the waterfowl returning to their nests.

When a long line of cargo ships appeared at the end of my vision on the Grand Canal, another fleet from the opposite direction sounded their horns as they passed through the Linjiaba lock. The sunset deepened, and the afterglow moved from the embankment road to the surface of Weishan Lake. The vast lake, looking like an ocean, stretched beyond the horizon. Waterbirds in the reeds were startled by passing ships, taking off with pleasant sounds. Watching my child jumping with joy and my wife enjoying the cool breeze, I felt a deep sense of happiness. In that moment, I suddenly realized something:

Weishan Lake is a gift from nature to the locals; the Grand Canal is a monumental achievement by our ancestors. The various aquatic products from Weishan Lake have nourished generations of people on this land. Today, these endless cargo ships continuously transport energy and agricultural products to ports along the route. We enjoy the tranquility of nature, while our material life benefits from China’s vibrant economic system.

The natural geography is a gift from God; historically, it is a territory our ancestors expanded on horseback; and in reality, it is the result of countless generations of Chinese people’s hard work. For economic and social activities to run efficiently, the country’s leaders need exceptional talent to design reliable development plans. Without all this, there would be no individual happiness. The CPC is a positive part of this picture—not the whole, but just as important as all other parts.

I live on this land in this lifetime, and so does my child. Everyone I love and everyone who loves me live on this land. I love them and hope they remain healthy, happy, and joyful. Protecting them means ensuring that this land is free from war, plague, hunger, and poverty. Only when these foundations are solid can I fully devote myself to life and family. Isn’t this the relationship between an individual and their country? The CPC has achieved this, so what exactly am I complaining about every day? Should I deny everything just because of some bad news on the internet and some unfortunate events on this land?

By Weishan Lake at that moment, I grasped a simple truth: to love this country, to love its mountains and rivers, its history and culture, the heroes who shed blood and tears in modern history, and the forces leading this country to rejuvenation. At the same time, when my child grows up, they should see themselves as a master of this country, participating in its development. This is what a young boy should aspire to.

There is no such thing as love or hate without reason in this world. To love something, you must first understand it, knowing its strengths and weaknesses, and recognizing its significance to us. Otherwise, “forced love” is fake, blind, and short-lived. “Patriotism” is no different. Only by fully understanding this land, this country, and the forces driving China’s progress, with all their pros and cons, can one develop genuine love.

I am becoming such a Chinese person.

She Gave Him PRE and POST Date Bill and it Backfired

The Trigger For WWIII Just Arrived – What Are The Implications For Americans?

Guest Post by Brandon Smith

If the year of 2024 has proven anything so far, it’s that our worries about the potential outbreak of WWIII are absolutely reasonable. The skeptics making accusations of “conspiracy theory” and “doom and gloom” have been proven wrong yet again. The geopolitical atmosphere is turning sour fast.

I still don’t think a lot of people realize how truly volatile the situation is globally right now. From my point of view, WWIII has already begun, at least in economic terms.

 

Let’s not forget the fact that Ukraine is essentially a proxy for all of NATO against Russia. And, the situation in the Middle East is about to become much worse. Because of the alliances involved and the fragile nature of global energy exports there is a danger of systemic collapse should a wider war break out between Israel and multiple Arab nations. It appears that such a war is imminent.

But why should Americans care? It’s pretty simple – War spurs shortages, and shortages in the middle of a stagflationary crisis are a very bad thing.

Sanctions against Russia affect around 10% of the global oil market and around 12% of global natural gas consumption. But so far all that oil and natural gas is still flowing around the world, only the trade routes have changed. The Middle East, on the other hand, accounts for over 35% of the global oil market and 18% of the natural gas market. Widespread chaos in this region would mean economic crisis on a scale not seen in a century.

Think we have problems with stagflation now? Just wait until energy prices go to the moon.

Around 30% of all oil exports travel through the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow passage which a nation like Iran can easily block for months at a time. Sinking a few larger vessels in the straight would obstruct all cargo ship traffic and oil tanker traffic. Trying to clean up the mess would be difficult because artillery, which is almost impossible to intercept, can rain down from Iran on any vessels trying to drag sunken ships out of the way.

Iran has mutual defense pacts with multiple governments in the region including Lebanon and Syria, along with military ties to Russia. The Turkish government is unlikely to allow western troops to use their airspace to launch attacks. The US military presence in Afghanistan is gone and the Iraqi government will never allow foreign troops to use their land to come to the aid of Israel.

This greatly limits the west’s launch points for an offensive large enough to blitz Iran. The vast majority of attacks would be from the air, and if the Russians start supplying Iran with batter radar and missile technology then there’s no guarantees Israel or the US would gain full control of the air space. In other words, if a wider war breaks out it will not end for YEARS and it’s going to be fought on the ground.

Of course, most establishment experts have claimed that the situation will never escalate to that point and that the threat of direct confrontation between Israel and Iran is minimal. I have been predicting the opposite for a number of reasons, just as I predicted that there was a high chance of war in Ukraine months before it happened.

In October of 2023 in my article ‘It’s A Trap! The Wave Of Repercussions As The Middle East Fights “The Last War”’ I warned that a multi-front war was about to develop between Israel and various Muslim nations including Lebanon and Iran. I noted:

Israel is going to pound Gaza into gravel, there’s no doubt about that. A ground invasion will meet far more resistance than the Israelis seem to expect, but Israel controls the air and Gaza is a fixed target with limited territory. The problem for them is not the Palestinians, but the multiple war fronts that will open up if they do what I think they are about to do (attempted sanitization). Lebanon, Iran and Syria will immediately engage and Israel will not be able to fight them all…”

My purpose in that article was to outline the dangers of US involvement in a larger war that would require conscription and escalation with Russia. Despite the “experts” insisting that the odds are overblown, it now appears that the next stage of escalation is about to begin.

Iran, Lebanon and Israel have been exchanging limited fire for months now. This is nothing new. What is new is the change in tone after a Hezbollah rocket strike on a children’s soccer game in the remote Druze village of Majdal Shams that killed 12.

On the other side, Israel’s brazen assassination of the Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh on Iranian soil this week is a clear catalyst for war. Haniyeh has been engaged in a diplomatic mission to start peace negotiations in Gaza. His assassination sends a clear message that Israel has no intention of entering into talks with Hamas.

IDF officials also announced that they had killed top Hezbollah military commander Fuad Shukr in a precision missile strike Tuesday in Beirut.  There’s no escaping it now.

Iran’s supreme religious leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei has ordered retaliation against Israel and issued an order for Iran to strike the Israelis directly. Iran will likely use extended missile barrages, but also stage troops in Syria and Lebanon. The Houthis in Yemen will then increase their attacks on ships traversing the Red Sea. It’s hard to say how much Russia will involve itself at first, but I have no doubt more advanced Russian missiles and other weapons will make an appearance on the battlefield.

The prospect of world war is immense. Israel will not be able to fight in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria and Iran all at the same time. Energy exports in the region will definitely face a slowdown, if not a complete breakdown. At that point the war won’t just be about Israel, it will be about a global energy crisis. I don’t see any scenario in which the US government doesn’t get involved.

The high risk of terrorism this entails should not be overlooked. We’ve had an undefended border and record illegal crossings for a few years now under Biden.  There’s not telling how many foreign agents are in the country and I believe this was by design.  I think the establishment maintained open border policies because they wanted such people here.  The more terror these agents cause the more the public will be tempted to increase government powers to deal with the attacks.

Beyond that, the political left in the west has tied itself to the Palestinian wagon as if it’s their business. In reality, leftists view the war in Gaza as just another vehicle for their outrage. They use minorities, they use gays and now they’re using Muslims. It’s the classic Marxist strategy of hijacking the social causes of other groups and co-opting their momentum.

Gaza is just another excuse for progressive spastics to riot and start burning more of the west down (their true goal). Anyone that opposes them will automatically be accused of being a “Zionist sympathizer” even if Israel is not their concern. So, there will surely be Muslim terror attacks, but also civil conflicts triggered by leftists exploiting the situation to their advantage.

The timing of these events in tandem with the election is definitely not coincidental. Whoever ends up in office will essentially be “stuck” with the war, inheriting a disaster from day one. Once US forces are committed to an allied effort, there’s no chance any president (including Trump) will pull those forces out.  If things get bad enough, there might not even be an election in November.

For those that think we can “win” on multiple fronts, the truth might shock you.  Eric Edelman, who serves as Vice Chair of the US National Defense Strategy Commission, has given warning about the impending conflict, stating:

“There is potential for near-term war and a potential that we might lose such a conflict…We need our allies to produce more. Our defense industrial base is in very bad shape. The European defense industrial base is in even worse shape. We need our industrial base, their base, and the industrial base of our Pacific allies. Australia, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan–they all need to be stepping up because to match what Russia, China, Iran and North Korea are doing is beyond our ability to do it ourselves.”

I have written about the logistical shortcomings of the west in a WWIII scenario for some time now. At the top of the list will be manpower, just as we have seen in Ukraine. This is why we have been hearing military and political officials hint about a new draft over the past two years. They know what’s coming.

A draft to fight for globalist causes is unacceptable. I’m not going to delve into debate over whether it’s right or wrong for western countries to throw their weight behind Israel. Frankly, I don’t care about that argument. I don’t have anything invested in either side of the conflict. I care about Americans. And, I know that making the US military the go-to solution to the Middle East problem is going to end with a lot of dead Americans. I also know that the expanding crisis would make certain special interest (globalists) very happy.  As I noted last year:

The establishment seems particularly obsessed with convincing US conservatives and patriots to participate in the chaos; there are a number of Neo-cons and even a few supposed liberty media personalities calling for Americans to answer the call of blood in Israel. Some have described the coming conflagration as “the war to end all wars.”

I believe that the real war is yet to truly start, and that is the war to erase the globalists from existence. They want us to fight overseas in endless quagmires in the hopes we will die out. And when we do, there will be no one left to oppose them…”

The trap has just been set. We’ll have to wait and observe the scale of the response from Lebanon and Iran, but I believe the worst case scenario is at hand. There are multiple powderkeg events in progress around the world right now, but the Middle East situation looks to be the most disastrous by far in terms of how it will affect the US.

There’s a hot topic on the Chinese internet: Is the United States now at the end of the Tang Dynasty or the end of the Ming Dynasty?

I’m in the Ming Dynasty camp.

The fall of the Tang Dynasty was essentially due to the power of the Guanzhong aristocratic group blocking the upward mobility of the Hebei class. Although it was nominally due to the rebellion of the An-Shi insurgents, it was actually a civil war between the Han Chinese of Hebei and the Han Chinese of Longxi.

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(What really led to the demise of the Tang Dynasty was this brutal battle in which most of the army was destroyed.)

Similarly, the fall of the Ming Dynasty was also essentially an internal Han Chinese issue.

Even though there were massive problems with the distribution of interests between the north and the south, it was essentially a civil war between the north and the south.

Since both falls were due to unequal distribution of interests leading to the collapse of the country, why do I insist that the United States is currently at the end of the Ming Dynasty?

Three characteristics:

First, during the fall of the Han and Tang dynasties, these massive entities in Chinese history still maintained overwhelming military advantages over surrounding ethnic groups, whereas the United States does not have this advantage now.

Second, before the fall of the Ming Dynasty, there was a period of, uh, I’m not sure if I should say this, but it is indeed recorded in history books, a so-called “men dressing as women,” and LGBTQ was very prevalent. I have no discrimination against homosexuality, truly none! In ancient China, including the Warring States period and the most prosperous Han Dynasty, there were many rulers who were homosexuals, whom I admire! Look, I’m saying this, so I definitely do not discriminate against homosexuals, right?

What I want to say is that when these rulers were homosexuals, soldiers and ordinary people did not have a tendency to change genders, but at the time of the dynasty’s collapse, there were many grassroots males doing this…

I mean absolutely no discrimination, but it is very similar to the records of the late Ming Dynasty…

Third, spending countless amounts of money and achieving nothing. It’s incredibly frightening. Hundreds of thousands of taels of silver invested, achieving nothing…

In general, I believe that the United States now resembles the end of the Ming Dynasty very much.

The real fall of the Ming Dynasty happened during the “Three Great Campaigns of Wanli,” when the Ming Dynasty still seemed very strong and launched three large-scale military campaigns. But seriously, hasn’t the United States also fought in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan? These three seemingly world-shaking wars actually only fattened the military leaders?

A hot topic on the Chinese internet is: Who least wants the United States to collapse?

80% of the answers are: China.

Chinese netizens are very clear that this world is maintained by the United States. If the United States collapses, it would be a disaster for the world, including China. No one can escape. So we clearly provide this answer based on our own interests: United States, you must not collapse!

The battle that marked the fall of the Ming Dynasty was the Battle of Salhu.

I do not want the United States to engage in wars in the Middle East again, as it is clearly America’s Salhu moment.

That would be a disaster for China, the United States, and the world.

In this world, no one can defeat the United States, except the United States itself.

No.

I’m from Hong Kong, a city that took in Vietnamese boat people who fled the Vietnam War, at the request of the United Nations. It placed huge economic and social burdens on the city, and the United Nations, after decades, has yet to pay back the 1.3 billion HKD it owes us for our efforts in accommodating them (as of last year, they’ve only paid back 166 million HKD, a mere fraction).

Taking in refugees is an expensive affair that doesn’t always come with benefits. We had enough trouble accommodating ethnic-Chinese Vietnamese people, who were culturally similar to us. Could you imagine if they were from an Islamic-dominated culture? I’m not just talking about the child sex rings, gang-rapes or honour-killings you see in Europe and the UK, I’m talking re-education, teaching them our language and culture, which is difficult and rarely succeeds, in addition to helping them find low-paying jobs, which affects the livelihoods of our grassroots citizens.

I understand the humanitarian principles of helping those in need, but taking them in is not the best solution. The elites who decide on our behalf to let them in can do so in their own good conscience, because they’re not the ones who have to bear the consequences. It’s not their jobs that will face higher competition from low-skilled foreign labour – if anything, they stand to profit from saving on workers’ wages. It’s not their wives and children who have to put up with the gazes and advances of lonely, desperate men (Dr. Clemens Ladenburger being an exception). It’s not their neighborhoods that will face greater poverty and crime. It’s not their communities that will be fractured, as the original residents move out to make way for the new ones moving in.

But most of all, I think young men fleeing their own countries just offends us on a cultural level. You see, there was a time when China wasn’t the second largest economy on earth. Our grandparents had to deal with the Imperial Japanese military, then considered to be one of the finest fighting forces in the world. Even western powers in the Far East couldn’t stop them – Hong Kong (then a British colony) fell in two weeks, with the Japanese only losing a few hundred men.

Guess what the Chinese people back in those days did about it? They fought back valiantly, and suffered the second-most casualties in WW2. Even those who fled to America supported the war effort by sending home what little money they made working jobs white people felt were beneath them.

Refugees (especially young men) should stay in their countries and work to make it a better place for their countrymen. No one can save you but yourselves. The Chinese have known this for at least a century now.

No saviour from on high delivers
No faith have we in prince or peer
Our own right hand the chains must shiver
Chains of hatred, greed and fear
– The Internationale

The Psychopath | House M.D.

I’m going to give a pro tankie answer, even though I am not a big fan of tankies. That’s because I have to agree with them here.

There is absolutely no reason for North Korea to be hated by the West. They are this defensive because they know they are hated and the West just wants to destroy North Korea… and for zero geopolitical reason at that.

The USA destroyed every city in North Korea, and put more bombs on North Korea than they did on Japan which brutally invaded Asia and attacked America’s Pearl Harbor. 635,000 tons of bombs were dropped on North Korea, compared to 160,000 tons of bombs in Japan.

North Korea had 9.26 million people before the war. More than 1 million North Korean civilians were killed or missing due to the Korean War. To compare, less than 1 million Japanese civilians died in WWII, with 100,000+ of them killed in the atomic bombings, in a population of more than 70 million.

The war that America waged on North Korea wasn’t even a war at this point. It was outright genocide. Hitler would be proud of this. Every last North Korean was a target (and some South Koreans too, No Gun Ri Massacre was an example). The aim wasn’t even to put pressure on the North Korean regime, it was to give civilians hell. That is what strategic bombing is aimed to do, give civilians hell.

North Korea would not be justified to invade South Korea (which, frankly, is a capitalist hellhole as much as North Korea is a radical communist juche hellhole today). If North Korea did such things, I would condemn North Korea as well and demand that North Korea go back to its borders.

But it would be very justified to build hundreds of nuclear weapons, and set conditions for its use being the second total destruction of North Korea as happened during the Korean War. Luckily for normal people, North Korea only has dozens of nuclear weapons, and it has only very recently acquired the ability to hit the US mainland with nuclear weapons using just one nuclear weapons platform.

When you read the North Korean history, it makes sense why Kim Jong-un is so preoccupied with building nuclear weapons. If I was him, I would also build nukes.

I’m happy to see countries be able to defend themselves from imperialists the hard way against all odds, be it Israel or North Korea.

America Compared: Why Other Countries Treat Their People So Much Better (Reaction)

The truth hurts.

The imperial examination system was a talent selection system implemented in ancient China to build a vast bureaucratic system and control the entire empire.

For its time, this system was quite advanced.

Firstly, it ensured a relatively open path for social mobility, giving children from poor families a chance. Secondly, it was relatively fair; while the winners of the imperial examination might not have been outstanding managers, they were certainly not fools.

At the very least, they had to read an immense amount of books, be knowledgeable, and be intelligent.

(Someone:Let me tell you something, folks, nobody reads more books than I do. Believe me. I’m the best at reading, okay? I’ve read more than anyone else—more than all the other politicians combined. They say, ‘ how do you know so much?’ Well, I’ve got the best books, the smartest people, and I understand everything. I know all the facts, the details, you name it. Nobody’s smarter, nobody’s better informed. It’s tremendous, folks, really tremendous. And believe me, when it comes to being well-read, I’m simply the best.”)

Moreover, the exams were not purely about comparing poetry or essays but included a large number of “strategy and policy” questions.

These questions are somewhat similar to modern civil service exam questions or political knowledge tests for students.

I found a few examples of ancient exam questions and, trying to adapt them to today’s global situation, rephrased them.

You can take a look to get a sense of the type of questions.

1 The United States has established hundreds of military bases around the world, while China’s military strength is mainly concentrated domestically. What are the reasons for these two strategies, and what are their respective advantages and disadvantages?

2 China’s ethnic policies are inherited from the Soviet Union, which has been criticized by many. However, it seems to be functioning well now, better than the Soviet Union. What do you think is the most important reason for this?

3 Roosevelt’s New Deal has some socialist characteristics, while China’s economic policies have many capitalist features. Share your views on this.

4 During President Trump’s tenure, what were some characteristics of the government officials he hired?

(Someone:I’ve got the best, the smartest, the most incredible people working for me. I pick winners, and let me tell you, they make America great again—just like I promised. The greatest administration, believe me. We’re bringing jobs, we’re bringing prosperity, and we’re making this country shine like never before. It’s fantastic, really fantastic,the best team, making America greater than ever. No one does it better.)

5 During the Korean War, China and the Soviet Union were allies, but in the Sino-Vietnamese War, China and the U.S. became quasi-partners. Share your opinion on this.

These are five exam questions related to politics, history, and military affairs, each requiring a detailed answer. There are also other questions covering topics such as education, economy, diplomacy, and so on.

Additionally, there was the Eight-Legged Essay examination, where candidates were required to use the sayings of sages as arguments and write an essay strictly following the standard format.

Overall, answering these questions well within a limited time is quite challenging, especially considering that you are competing with thousands of the most diligent and intelligent individuals in China.

An interesting fact: The top scorer in the imperial examination was called the “Zhuangyuan.” Only one was selected every three years. Over the 1,300-year history of the examination system, there were a total of 504 Zhuangyuans.

The first one was from the Tang Dynasty, and the last one was from the Qing Dynasty. Their hometowns were very close to each other, and today this area is known for having one of the strongest cities in China’s college entrance examinations, Hengshui City in Hebei Province.

The United States is sinking fast…

Rat Fink

China isn’t exactly hidden from the world is it?

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main qimg 946663b368e14a45e46485c3892d7215

You have a Visa and can visit China anytime and see for yourself can’t you?

China has 34 routes on HS measuring a distance of 4,790 Kms at 350 KPH

China has 57 routes on Rail measuring a distance of 28,730 Kms at 256 KPH

That’s 33,520 Kms of guaranteed railway length

This is public record. You can check each route, delete the repeating routes and this is the number you get

170 million travelled by these routes this year and purchased tickets

So they have 33,000+ kms publicly published on record – more than the rest of the world combined

Why would they lie about having a mere 10,000 Kms more?

If they had said 100,000 – I understand

They said 43,000 when they have 33,500 that can be verified sitting in Chennai

Why make up a mere 10,000 Kms?

So my guess is 43,000 is very true and Australia is just as usual being a sore loser

Men Are Healing From Dating In The West When Going Overseas

Paintings of the High Seas

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You’re told to, that’s why.

Meanwhile you’re told to ignore anything before a certain point… where have we heard that before?

What do you mean before a certain point?

You know 22 years ago on 11th September 2001? 3000 people were killed yeah?

Some basic maths? 1/95,000th of the US population were killed that day. A typical person’s network is about 100–150 people meaning about – 450000 were indirectly affected.

A lot right?

In the Korean war the USAF killed 20–25% of their population with airpower, nothing was left standing EVERYTHING was bombed. Shacks, huts EVERYTHING was bombed.

1 in 4 people were MURDERED by the US airforce.

But wait it gets worse.

US sanctions starved the people killing several more million.

You think about that, 3000 people were killed in the USA and 450,000 were affected and the USA went on a rape murder spree killing nearly 5 million people

the white power types like Colin Riegels are all hahahahhaha it was FUN TO DESTROY IRAQ non whites are just insects! Only WHITE DEATHS COUNT because WE ARE THE WORLD NOBODY ELSE IS HUMAN.

And yet most white supremacies still think they’re the good guys.

The popularity of Abu Ghraib is testament to that

main qimg 5e1ee0ab9f2195145bad029b4a607572 lq
main qimg 5e1ee0ab9f2195145bad029b4a607572 lq

The whistleblower Joe Darby was absolutely destroyed over that when his conscience told him to show the shitty things the US has been doing for decades.

Scott Ritter REVEALS: NATO in Full PANIC! Russia Puts Ukraine’s Army on the Verge of TOTAL COLLAPSE!

Shorpy

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Elon Musk speaks

U.S. Government Selects New President For Venezuela

The clown show continues:

U.S. says Maduro lost Venezuelan election, calls for talks, transitionWashington Post

CARACAS, Venezuela — The United States on Thursday said opposition candidate Edmundo González defeated President Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela’s presidential election and called for negotiations to ensure a peaceful transition of power.Maduro claims that he won Sunday’s vote. The opposition, meanwhile, says that the government’s own records, as well as independent exit polls, indicate that González won twice as many as votes.

“Given the overwhelming evidence, it is clear to the United States and, most importantly, to the Venezuelan people that Edmundo González Urrutia won the most votes in Venezuela’s July 28 presidential election,” Secretary of State Antony Blinken said in a statement Thursday evening.

Did anyone inform “President” Juan Guaido?

 

Posted by b at 7:03 UTC | Comments (124)

Putin Makes a statement

A comment

It’s interesting how the US always knows what happens in other countries’ elections, and the “real” results, but can’t manage its own elections and has a political system which no longer bears any resemblance to democracy in substance, and ever less so in form.

It’s also interesting how the US allows itself, and is allowed, to openly choose other countries’ leaders, and to assassinate them if other “democratic’ US methods don’t succeed.

The Grotesque States of America, as someone called it, is blind to how grotesque it has become and how much revulsion it is generating, which is systematically pushing it into irrelevance.

As for Venezuela, it is not going to allow another Guido cycle to hinder its path forward.

“Tensions that emerged on Sunday and continued on Monday and Tuesday, are now under control, and this control will become stricter day by day in order to ensure [the country’s] peace, prosperity and production,” Maduro said.

“We have arrested over 1,200 criminals and are now searching for another 1,000, who will also be arrested,” the president continued, adding that those individuals “underwent training in Texas, US, as well as in Colombia, Peru and Chile,” and his government has video footage of these training sessions to prove it.

He also said that “the criminals set over 300 police stations on fire.” In his words, around 80% of rioters were under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

“We are catching them, one by one, and there will be no mercy,” Maduro said, announcing that two maximum security prisons will be put into operation about two weeks later. “All criminals will go to maximum security prisons.”

https://tass.com/world/1824421

 

Posted by: JB | Aug 2 2024 8:31 utc | 10

On the Chinese internet, people are also discussing this issue.

The majority believe that it is because of certain Democratic policies that have angered Elon Musk.

What I mean is the matter of Musk’s son transitioning.

We may be completely wrong in our speculation, but as Chinese people, this kind of thinking is quite natural.

Few Chinese parents would agree with such a thing and would definitely be extremely angry. So, perhaps we are projecting our own feelings.

Chinese people generally like Trump more, at least much more than Biden, and it has nothing to do with tariffs or anything like that. Here are two very important factors:

1. Values: You read that right, Chinese people relatively recognize Trump’s values more, such as hard work, valuing family, and not doing drugs.

Especially important is that due to political correctness, we don’t dare to oppose LGBTQ and immigration on the internet.

But in reality, people are very anxious.

This is not discrimination; it has to do with Chinese history. For thousands of years, the Chinese view on homosexuality has been “Oh, that’s fine, but don’t force it on me, and don’t affect me. We are all equal, you can’t think you’re superior just because you’re a minority.”

This is different from the West, where there was brutal persecution of homosexuals before, and now there is excessive promotion.

2 Immigration issue: In our history, we didn’t capture Black people from Africa and sell them as slaves, so we naturally don’t have a sense of guilt.

We are also not a country of immigrants, so when more than 30,000 Africans without legal status (some even claim up to 500,000, which I doubt, it shouldn’t be that many) gather in specific communities in Guangzhou, with over 90% being young males, and increasing at a rate of 30% per year, we are really, really worried.

But the above two issues, because of political correctness, cannot be publicly opposed. When we hear Trump’s views on sexual minorities and illegal immigrants, we naturally feel: he is saying what we want to say!

3.Trump doesn’t “keep a dog”

There are countless attacks and abusive comments against China on the Chinese internet, but very few in real life because the majority are actually paid posts.

These people don’t discuss other issues normally, but once a hot event like the Ukraine crisis happens, they post the same content densely to stir things up.

Chinese netizens generally believe they are hired by the Democratic Party, saying the American Democrats are too good at “remote farming dogs.” During Trump’s administration, this phenomenon was rare, possibly because he was smart enough to know that such actions only make the Chinese more disgusted and serve no purpose, so he cut the funding for online opinion wars.

Therefore, many people hope he will be in power again, at least to clean up the Chinese internet a bit.

These are situations that foreigners might not know about, so I ventured to respond.

It’s very easy to do. However, Taiwan’s air force and navy soldiers also have family members. When they die, their parents and siblings must have been devastated.

The CPC will not resort to war to unify Taiwan until it is absolutely necessary.

After all, the two sides of the Strait share the same roots after all, so there is no need to fight to the death.

In the same family, it was common for the eldest brother to join the PLA and the younger brother to join the Kuomintang army.

Mao Fumei, Chiang Kai-shek’s first wife and Chiang Ching-kuo’s mother, was actually from the same clan as Mao Zedong. According to the seniority, Chiang Kai-shek was Mao Zedong’s “brother-in-law” or “uncle”. Even Mao’s younger cousin was a lieutenant general in the Kuomintang.

Xi Jinping’s wife’s uncle followed Chiang Kai-shek to Taiwan in 1949. Xi Jinping’s wife’s uncle’s family lives in Taiwan.


During the Chinese People’s Liberation War in 1949, 4 million Kuomintang soldiers surrendered and only a very small number of them lost their lives in the war.

Starting from April 1949,

  • only those Kuomintang soldiers who contacted the PLA at least one month in advance to surrender could be considered “abandon evil and follow good, 起义”,
  • those who surrendered 72 hours before the PLA attack could only be considered “active surrender, 投诚”,
  • and those who laid down their weapons during the PLA attack could only be considered “captive, 被俘”.

It is said that there was a unit in Lin Biao’s Fourth Field Army that was very rude, and it was the unit that was specifically reprimanded by Premier Zhou Enlai. They thought that there were too many Kuomintang troops who “abandoned evil and followed good, 起义” and “active surrendered, 投诚”, and their enemy annihilation figures were not good, so they returned the weapons to the Kuomintang soldiers when they had clearly “active surrender, 投诚”, and forced them to change their “active surrender, 投诚” to “captive, 被俘”.

“Abandon evil and follow good, 起义”, “active surrender, 投诚”, “captive, 被俘”, the literal meanings are different, and the treatment is very different.

In the 1980s – 1990s, a large number of people petitioned the central government, demanding to prove that they were “abandon evil and follow good , 起义” instead of “active surrender, 投诚”.

Therefore, at that time, the Kuomintang troops spent a lot of time studying how to “abandon evil and follow good , 起义” or “active surrender, 投诚” with the highest cost-effectiveness!

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In 1959, when the first batch of war criminals were pardoned at the Gongdelin War Criminals Management Center, it was strictly stipulated that only those who had been “Captured for ten years, 被俘满10年” were eligible for pardon.

At that time, the prisoners of war in the War Criminals Management Center were immediately excited.

  • Those captured in the Battle of Lunan, the Battle of Xiangfan, and the Battle of Yangshanji were undoubtedly eligible for the first batch of pardons.
  • Those captured in the Liaoshen Campaign and the Huaihai Campaign were all in a good mood.
  • But those captured in the Pingjin Campaign were a little confused, and they were not sure whether they were eligible for pardon.
  • Those captured after the Crossing the Yangtze River Campaign were all gloomy and wished they had been captured earlier.

Time is running out, places are limited, and the “Abandon evil and follow good, 起义” needs to act sooner rather than later.

Classical art

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Native American Ravioli

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df6b2b88 dbaa 4e77 a048 f645b52952b6

Ingredients

  • 3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon vegetable oil

Instructions

  1. Pour the flour into a mound on a flat working surface. Make a depression in the center with your hand that almost reaches through to the board. Crack the eggs directly into the well and, with a fork, whip in the salt and oil, mixing the flour in from around the edges. Mix and knead the dough with your hands for 8 to 10 minutes, until the dough has a smooth and elastic consistency. If the dough seems a bit dry, add a little water; add a little more flour if it seems too moist.
  2. Once you have obtained the desired consistency, cover the dough with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for 15 minutes.
  3. Divide the dough into handsful and roll out each section to a very thin, even, almost translucent thickness. Use your imagination to cut the dough into any size or shape.

Notes

Any filling can be used to make the ravioli.

Blue Cornmeal Ravioli: Substitute a combination of 1 cup finely ground blue cornmeal and 1 1/2 cups flour for the flour in this recipe. Increase the number of eggs to 5.

I turned up to work just over a year ago.

The previous evening my colleague had asked me for my password to my computer so she could print some “things” from my computer.

This colleague did not like me.

She then went through my messages that I had sent to another colleague. These messages would be deemed inappropriate in the workplace.

She showed these messages to a manager.

I turned up to the work next day.

My belongings were packed in a box and I was told I would not be needed at work today or ever again.

My mistake was sending the inappropriate messages to my colleague who subsequently resigned the same day.

I cost myself a job.

I cost my friend and colleague his job.

This was my mistake.

What happened from here though was a moment of self reflection.

Instead of blaming my employer and my sneaky colleague I turned around and asked myself:

“Why did I write those messages in the first place?”

I began to ask myself other questions.

“Why was I so angry at the sneaky women who got me fired?”

“Why was I in a job that I didn’t like in the first place?”

This led me to more questions.

“Why was I being rude about another person behind their back?”

“Why did I let my ego make bad decisions for the last twenty five years?”

My mistake led me to realise that I had been a bad human being for a number of years.

Since being fired I’ve opened my own gym, written for the Huffington Post and spoken about this same mistake for the last year and how I learned from it.

Being a bad person and getting caught was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made but it made the best man I’ve ever been too.

They decided to make it rain like there is no tomorrow. And then tomorrow came.

See, for an individual relying on a day job is probably fine. For a household relying on a single income is not great but, it works in many instances. For a company, only having one source of revenue, is very very reckless. For a nation, relying purely on one form of income and doing very very little to create wealth otherwise is just a recipe for disaster.

In the 1970s, and later, Venezuela decided to go on a spending spree. Taxes were lowered and government spending was increased in the form of handouts. This led to an increase in the purchase of foreign cars and other luxury items. The government then went crazy with its government-owned enterprises moving into utilities, roadways, health, internet, telecommunication, and tourism. They also entered the finance industry, buying up private banks and making them state-run which were financially crippling to purchase and then so poorly run that they never made a profit.

When government-run enterprises and workers get all the money they need, it makes it incredibly hard for private enterprises and small businesses to compete. Why would an individual start a business, if the government will just open a competing business, run it to a loss and drive the individual out of work.

In 2008, all export industries apart from oil had collapsed which resulted in massive unemployment but the government took massive debt and provided handouts. At this point, the country was literally a lottery winner who quit their job, spent all of the money and then re-mortgages the homes, they bought with their winnings in order to buy more lottery tickets.

The declining oil prices, then bought the whole house of cards crashing down. And then the poorly run government bureaucracy did, what a poorly run government bureaucracy does and tried to print its way out of trouble, causing massive hyperinflation in the process.

The cat distribution system FINALLY chose us!

Young Boy movie theater

Look

I believe every system has to DELIVER RESULTS

Results alone decide whether a system is a success or a failure

The Chinese System today rose from an Agrarian Nation struggling with poverty to one of the biggest and most powerful nations on the planet with a near $20 Trillion economy

This means their system is a ROARING SUCCESS

India as it stands once Chinas equal has a 1/6 Per Capita Income, 1/9th Industrial Production and 16% of the Skilled Labor and 1/200th of the Infrastructure Or planning but 5 times more corruption and a lot more inequality

This means our system is a HUMONGOUS FAILURE

Plain and Simple

  • Two Nations
  • Similar Background of Colonial Exploitation
  • No Huge Stash of Oil Or Gas
  • Same Illiterate People, Primarily Farmers
  • Loads of Poor People

One becomes a major force to reckon with

Other is struggling on its way to the middle

I don’t give a rats ass about anything else


In the same way

Chinese Students have near Top Mensa scores

Chinese Graduates lead all forms of Scientific Research today

Chinese Engineers have worked on Marvels across the world

So their system (Meritocracy) is a ROARING SUCCESS as far as I am concerned

It has delivered results

The Indian Students on a Median Level have nothing on the level of the Chinese

Indian Graduates are at best glorified managers of big enterprises founded by Westerners or have toilet cleaning startups that have Zero Technological Innovation or Edge

Indian Engineers – no need to say much

So our System is a HUMONGOUS FAILURE as far as I am concerned

This System means – Low Quality Government Schools, Free Rein to Private Schools, Exploitation of Students and Reservations – all of these

Plain and Simple

  • Two Nations
  • Same level of literacy or illiteracy
  • Same struggle to expand on primary education

One is so dominant that they terrify the West who have been world leaders for over three or four centuries

Another producing factory drones and talented casual leave sanctioning munims


So everything India is doing is flawed according to me

Simple

Now either it’s because the Chinese are genetically superior in which case it’s perfectly fine to say “This is our maximum limit. Doing little and generating 99% Gas”

Ambika Vijay and our friend Dr Karan Shanmugham have presented some valid points over the last few months or year to say this theory is unlikely

So the only explanation is :-

Our System is flawed in every sense possible

This includes Reservations


I am not for Meritocracy because of the equality notion nor am I against Reservations because it is unjust

I simply say Meritocracy has proven a roaring success while Reservations has achieved virtually nothing for India in 35 years

So this means either the concept of Reservations is wrong in itself or the Implementation of Reservations is wrong


As to Justice to Oppressed Castes

Again China sets an example here to it’s minorities (Uyghurs, Hui, Hill Tribes, Tibetans, Lhasans, Pinglis)

  • Fully Free Education upto University Graduation
  • Stipends to students every month from Grade III to University
  • 51% Guaranteed Resource sharing
  • First Preference Farming Contracts
  • 66% Guaranteed Local Contracts or Undertaken Contracts

Yet all of them need ABILITY to qualify for anything

Won’t these help the oppressed communities far better than keeping them as beggars and dangling reservations???

It’s why Xinjiang generates it’s revenue plus contributes to China while Tibet too has a net outward contribution

Yet

Kashmir has Zip

Most Poor Districts with Dalit Majority or Oppressed Majority have ZERO outward contribution to a State

So as usual India is doing something very wrong

Why?

It hasn’t worked or produced any results so far to indicate otherwise


So it’s time to overhaul everything because India is One Gigantic Failure especially since 1975–2024 barring a 10 year period from 2000–2010 & a 4 year period from 1992–1996

Is that being done?

  • Our Legal system is replaced by a More Draconian system
  • Leaders are stupider as time goes by
  • We are digging down on our failure system instead of looking for flaws and overhauling

So the biggest question is

WHAT THE F*** ARE WE ACTUALLY DOING?

I do not know that is the fact or not but I do know one thing : should stay away from them, period. During the VN War, those nva you bumped into battlefields of South Vietnam were survivors of all challenges before they met you. The weak, the sick all died along the HCM Trails by bombings, sickness…Behind every single nva soldier, he had nothing to lose ( no fancy cars, big house and good living back home ) In fact, behind him there could be a piece of farm land, poor. His village and his folks got bombings from US planes. Put aside all political propaganda, these factors alone could propel him to the point he really wanted to trade life and death with you. He didn’t trek thousand miles in tough terrains to fight you with his bare ass. He got his ak47, hand grenades and all kinds of trainings. He also knew that no man is tougher than a bullet. Why would he be afraid if he is willing to put his life away for a good cause ? That is why no matter what nationality you are Chinese Japanese, French, American, Korean, Australian, Cambodian, Thai…HE WILL NOT HESITATE TO CONFRONT YOU WITH ALL OF WHATEVER HE GOT. Share ( an ex-nva of Cambodia battlefields, late 70s )

Yes actually! Going anonymous.

I have a very good friend who used to drive a very very old second hand car. I always teased him why he didn’t bought a new reasonable car like me, cause I thought he was a middle class guy who can afford a normal car instead of buying refurbished cars. Also, he used to never tip waiters and would always search cheaper options of everything. I would always poke him and make fun of him for being a cheapskate, of course in a friendly way so he never would mind.

Now on the part when I found out. I started a business and was in very needed of investment. It was a big idea so I needed every help I could get. I already had received help from 5 of my friends, which was seemingly enough to start the venture along with my money. When my cheapskate friend knew about my idea (I never told him myself), he came to me and said he would like to invest in my venture as he loved the idea. Then he offered me an amount which was almost double the combined investment of 5 others! No words will be enough to describe how shocked and surprised I was.

I knew there is difference between how the rich thinks and most of us do. But I never totally understood it until I had this experience.

What Putin and China Just Did to the U.S. Military is SHOCKING, Pentagon on Red Alert

“Terrify” is too strong a word; I prefer the word “concerned”.

Xi Jinping is a very smart person, and there are stories how he was determined from a very early age to become China’s leader. He had a plan.

He worked his way up, and eventually became party general secretary, chairman of the Central Military Commission, and President of China. He is not attracted by wealth and money, and is not distracted by women and sex.

These are all good virtues for the leader of a country to have, because it shows that he is able to think of the overall good of the nation, and its citizens when making decisions. He does not think of personal benefit, which is important.

He has also surrounded himself with very intelligent advisors, notably Wang Qishan.

My concern is that while he has understood how to work the system in China to get where he is, he has much more difficulty getting inside the heads of non-Chinese societies and non-Chinese leaders.

This means that he can make good decisions for China and Chinese, but he has a much harder time understanding the needs and concerns of other nations. But, at a time when China now has the world’s second largest economy, this becomes cause for worry because China is now a superpower. The leader of China cannot only think of what is good for China; he has to think of the problems other nations are having.

This explains my disappointment at China’s current over-reliance on Chinese nationalism to support China’s claims to the South China Sea. While I can understand eventually exercising claims to this territory, I really don’t understand why these claims were exercised beginning in 2013? If China was going to make a peaceful rise, why frighten its SE Asian neighbors so soon, and then militarizing these islands, giving the US a pretext to engage?

Was this really necessary? Was this done just to impress Chinese that China was now a global power, and the period of shame was over? What has been accomplished?

If this was the idea, I think that it was done too soon, and then Xi was caught off-guard by the election of Trump, and then caught off-guard again when Trump appointed Lighthizer and Navarro, both of whom were hostile to Chinese expansionism.

Doesn’t this make other countries look at China and say “All this talk of China’s peaceful rise was a sham, they just want to gobble us up?”

This is not just a PR and media problem, it is a challenge for policy formulation.

China got caught off-guard because many domestic reforms were delayed for too long. Now, if it makes reforms under US pressure, it looks weak, as if it were bowing to US pressure, which is not good for Xi and the leadership.

Deng Xiaoping said that the best strategy for China was to keep a low profile; I continue to believe that is the best formula for China because it does not yet offer a framework which other nations can buy into. “Non-interference in other countries’ internal affairs” is not a framework for an inter-connected world, because technology has gone way past that.

This is because China’s foreign policy now is too purely transactional, and has not yet expanded beyond that. When is it going to expand beyond only being transactional? The one bright spot in foreign relations is Xi’s relationship with President Putin; they seem to genuinely get along and like each other.

Why wasn’t this kind of relationship developed with the leadership of western nations, before everything blew up recently?

The United States was a flawed leader, but it offered a framework which worked for a long time. It won the Cold War against the Soviet Union, but it lost the peace because it turned inward and became selfish. It thought that it could only remain strong if other challengers, like China, were beaten down. Other countries lost respect for its leadership.

So far, China does not offer anything better.

Shorpy

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From another source…

For your information, Sunday there was a demonstration for peace in Amsterdam. Suddenly ''we'' were confronted with AZOV demonstrators. The AFVN wrote an article about it, it is in Dutch, I translated it with deepl translate. Hope it is clear enough what happened.

Sunday 28 July saw the monthly demonstration of Platform for Peace and Solidarity. What happened on that day that we can interpret as a low point, there was ‘suddenly’ a demonstration on Dam Square by the AZOV battalion.* AZOV is a fascist organisation in Ukraine and responsible for much death and destruction. During WW2, they committed many crimes against dissenters, against people of different backgrounds based on colour. Ukrainian fascists openly stood on Dam Square with flags of AZOV and openly scanned slogans for the release of AZOV, for supporting these fascists. With outright lies naming Russia as the aggressor, that Russia would be a terrorist state and hatred against Russians. This while the aggression comes from the US/Ukraine with many bombing civilian casualties. It is not for nothing that most refugees are in Russia.Russia intervened militarily after many attempts to negotiate and conclude peace agreements. So this did not come out of the blue and Russia's action was by no means unprovoked, quite the contrary.

It is a shame that it has come to this, that fascists can openly demonstrate in front of the National Monument that symbolises the victims in the fight against fascism 1940- 1945.

We as AFVN have not experienced that for a long time that fascists are allowed to openly propagate their ideology on public roads with impunity. It is certainly due to the Western media in which fascism in Ukraine is systematically trivialised and denied. So they are certainly partly responsible for the legitimacy of fascism.

Why didn't the police intervene? How could this have come to this? We cannot let this go unpunished and want to call on everyone who is against fascism to take action. We want to call on everyone reading this message to spread it as much as possible, people need to know. We must call on politicians and administrations to distance themselves from Ukrainian fascism in the Netherlands, the law prohibits overt fascism and signs.

We call on all members of parliament to have parliamentary questions asked about this. And we should fire the city council, asking whether fascism is tolerated in the city of the February Strike. In the coat of arms of the municipality of Amsterdam, heroic, determined and merciful is written as a tribute to the February Strike 1941.

Both China and the U.S. have their own strengths and weaknesses. My responses will focus more on the aspects of China that I find commendable.

Strict Drug Control

I strongly agree with this. China does have a drug problem, but with years of strict crackdowns, it has been better controlled now.

I remember getting lost in a minority area in Beijing around 1999 or 1998, walking into a small alley, and finding many discarded needles on the ground. It was quite unsettling at the time. Another instance was across from the rental house I was staying in, where a middle-aged man committed suicide because his son couldn’t quit heroin.

Breaking Bad is my favorite American TV show, but what Mr. White does is certainly not commendable! By the way, the U.S. has much better freedom of creation. Shows like Breaking Bad would never pass the censorship in China. This results in very few worthwhile Chinese TV dramas, which I hardly watch because they seem immature and uninteresting.

I know a narcotics officer who said they are like a firewall, sacrificing themselves to protect ordinary people like me who are pure and innocent. He said narcotics officers encounter the most vile things in the world.

I’ve seen some videos about the plight of American drug addicts, wandering the streets and losing their ability to work, which is very sad.

Strict Gun Control

It’s extremely strict, to the point of being unreasonable. For example, if I remember correctly, air guns have been banned since after 2000. If I were American, I would definitely buy a gun because it seems fun. But that’s not possible in China.

There are pros and cons to this.

Most people still support strict gun control. If I remember correctly, countries like Japan and the UK also have strict gun control?

I heard that the U.S. bans the sale of bulletproof vests, while in China, you can buy them freely.

China doesn’t ban bows and arrows; you can buy and play with them freely. In fact, the destructive power of a bow and arrow is not less than that of a handgun, which I don’t understand why it’s allowed.

Refusal of Immigration……

In fact, all East Asian countries refuse immigration, including Japan and South Korea. However, it seems that Japan is not particularly opposed to high-skilled Chinese immigrants. I have two friends who have immigrated to Japan.

China is similar. For instance, North Korean defectors—China has accepted far more than all other countries combined, including South Korea.

But there hasn’t been much public or official reaction, and they gradually receive citizenship. They go to school and work as usual.

However, there was a lot of opposition online when Rohingya refugees entered China from Myanmar, around only 30,000 in total.

The general sentiment was: accept them humanitarianly but do not accept them as immigrants. But for the same Myanmar people, if they are from Kokang (essentially Han Chinese), there is no opposition,even though they are also a minority group suppressed by the Burmese military junta.

Today (2024.08.01), the Kokang army captured a major city, and they have a population of 1.12 million under their control.

Chinese people are very familiar with this.

Today is the PLA Army Building Anniversary, and they deliberately chose today to attack the Northeast Command. This is called “paying tribute”.

You see, their way of thinking is just pure Chinese!

Even if all of them were to integrate into China, I wouldn’t feel much difference. They all speak Chinese, use Chinese currency, and telecom services, and copy China’s way of life, including television stations and news broadcasts.

( Kokang’KKTV)

(China CCTV)

If Vietnamese or Laotians were to immigrate to China, I personally wouldn’t object.

This topic is a bit sensitive and politically incorrect to discuss further, but I think you understand my point. Almost all Chinese people share my attitude. The last Rohingya incident saw a female actress advocating for their acceptance, and she was heavily criticized to the point of shutting down her social media accounts. The general opinion was to put those thousands of people in her home.

I don’t mean to be racist, not at all. However, if hundreds of thousands of people of Chinese or Confucian cultural sphere enter China, and local security hasn’t significantly deteriorated (there are indeed crime records, such as defectors worried about being reported, or cases of murder and assault simply for food, but overall, the crime rate is very low), whereas another group’s entry results in frequent incidents of armed robbery, severe injury, and even rape—crimes that are now quite rare in China—shouldn’t I, as a taxpayer, question whether my tax money might be better spent on something like keeping a dog?

Why is that?

Other benefits include a strong emphasis on education, high medical standards with low costs, and so on. But the most important points are the ones mentioned above.

Sierra Tkacik

“Jane!” A voice bellowed from the recesses of the ship. “Where is my grapefruit?”“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” A voice echoed from the opposite direction.“My grapefruit, Jane! The one I specifically had my name on! The one you stole!”“First of all, why would you print your name on a freaking grapefruit? Second of all, if you didn’t want me to take it, you shouldn’t have put it in a community fridge.”“So you did take it!”“Why is this grapefruit so important, anyway?”“Do you know, Jane, how many people have died in ships due to scurvy? Do you?!”“So eat an orange!”“The orange is overrated! The grapefruit is the only citrus fruit that understands me.”Charlie groaned and pressed his forehead against the table. “Lewis, we just had a shipment of grapefruit yesterday, get another one!” “Shut up, Charlie! This doesn’t concern you!” “I don’t even know why you try anymore.” Lyra flipped her braid as she slid in next to him. “Because you well know how much worse it will get if I don’t.” Harriet groaned as she remembered the third great prank war. Jane and Lewis were in an argument over their favorite colors, and it escalated into a full-blown war. Everywhere anyone turned, there was another trap set for either Lewis or Jane. Somehow, they ended up joining forces against the rest of the ship and wreaked havoc upon the crew of the Flame. They feared that it would spread to the other ships of the fleet, but luckily, Charlie recovered from his bout of illness quickly, and managed to calm both Lewis and Jane within the hour. But the crew would never forget the horror and fear they faced in that week; that was the day Charlie became the unofficial leader of all things Lewis and Jane. “I don’t even know why they’re on the same ship after that stunt; much less the mothership.” Lyra took a lasting gulp of coffee. “Jane’s the best engineer in the whole fleet.” “And Lewis is crazy good with the servers and the rest of the ship’s tech.” Harriet supplied, flicking a crumb of her muffin. “Plus, they’re great gunners in a pinch and work well with everyone except each other.” Claude snorted as he walked in. “Tell that to the Horogin embassy from two month ago. “Listen,” Lewis looked up from his tablet, “we all agree that the embassy was a mistake, just like we all agree that in general, Jane and Lewis are remarkable workers.” “Besides,” Harriet simpered, “can you really picture them anywhere else?” The room fell silent except for the gurgle of the coffee maker as each of the four tried to imagine Jane or Lewis stationed on any other ship. “Fair point.” Lyra admitted. “So can I just be put on another ship? I grew up on the Growth; agriculture is not something so easily forgotten.” Her violet braid twisted in front of her and seemed to writhe in agreement. “Uh, Charlie?” Claude pointed. “There’s a problem.” Charlie took one look at the floating braid before letting out a groan. He tapped the screen of his tablet and set it down, a holograph of a red-headed man slowly taking form. “Hey Charlie!” He showed of a gap-toothed grin. “Your gravity messing up too?” “Yep.” “Yeah, I just got off a vid with the captain about it. Lewis is checking it out now.” “Lewis? Isn’t he usually on servers?” “Usually, but since he passed out on another late night shift yesterday, I figured putting him on monitor watching duty was a better plan.” “Alright.” A blond man with dark, circular glasses stomped past, an indescribable look on his face. “Lewis, you figure it out yet?” “Yeah, Arnold, it’ll be fixed in a sec.” He disappeared from view. “Hey Jane!” A voice came from both the tablet and the hallway. “Something’s blocking the free-float tube!” “Yeah, that’s probably your grapefruit.” “You didn’t even eat it?!” The screech caused both Lyra and Charlie to wince. “What the heck?” “I don’t like grapefruit.” “So you took it from me for the sole pleasure of depriving me joy?” “Yeah.” A clang was heard and Lyra’s braid dropped. “It’s in the compost bin now.” “I hate you, you know!” “Just like I hate grapefruit?” An indecipherable collection of sounds was heard, before the hologram showed Lewis stomping back to his post. “Good work, buddy.” Arnold offered, to what might as well have been empty space. “Thanks for dealing with it, A.” Charlie picked up the tablet. “Good luck.” “No, man, good luck to you. Lewis has his morning break in five minutes.” And with a wink, Arnold was gone. “But that’s the same time Jane’s on break.” Lyra remarked. The four looked at each other with wide eyes, then at their meager breakfast. “Hide the grapefruit.”

Stuffed Flounder

1561de48238f7abd452f2e080091a1a3
1561de48238f7abd452f2e080091a1a3

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 6 (1/2 pound) flounder
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 3 ribs celery, chopped
  • 1 small bell pepper, chopped
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 3 teaspoons lemon juice
  • 1 1/2 cups seasoned bread crumbs
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • Dash of Tabasco sauce
  • Dash of cayenne pepper
  • 1 pound lump crabmeat
  • 1 (8 ounce) can shrimp
  • Butter (to baste)

Instructions

  1. Cut flounder down the middle. Take knife and cut around inside under skin to make a pocket on each side of the slit.
  2. Sauté onions, celery and bell pepper until tender.
  3. Mix eggs, lemon juice and bread crumbs. Add salt, pepper, Tabasco and cayenne.
  4. Check crabmeat for shells and add.
  5. Drain shrimp and add.
  6. Stuff flounder with crab and shrimp mixture.
  7. Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees F, basting with butter. Watch carefully. Do not overcook.

In 1975 I was assigned to the 1/19th Infantry Battalion, 25th Infantry Division at Schofield Barracks, HI. Although I was an Infantryman (11B MOS) I was detached from my line unit to Battalion HQ as I had another Secondary MOS in Administration (71L).

Under Army Regulations, when someone left for a Leave it was necessary to sign out on the approved Leave form prior to departure. On weekends or other after duty times the forms were sent to the Battalion HQ where the NCO assigned as Charge-of-Quarters managed the sign-out process.

One young Private reported to HQ to sign out but the CQ did not find his approved leave in the file. This was not entirely unusual and, as the CQ knew that a leave had been approved by the young man’s Unit Commander, he let him go saying they’d take care of the paperwork when he returned from leave. Tragically he died in an accident while on leave.

As one of my regular tasks at Battalion included preparing the Duty Status Report, and as it was especially necessary in this case before the soldier’s family was notified of the death – and before they received Death Benefits – I noted his status as “Present for Duty to Approved Leave to Deceased” and sent this to the soldier’s Company Commander for his signature. While waiting for the form to be signed and returned I also began preparations for the letter that was going to be signed by the Battalion Commander and sent to his family.

Instead of signing the form the Company Commander came to Battalion and informed me that this man did not have an approved leave because he did not sign out as required. He further told me that though the man had requested the leave he, as the CO, never approved it. Accordingly, he instructed me to change my status report to “Present for Duty to AWOL to Deceased” which would have resulted in the soldier’s family receiving nothing and being informed that their son was in violation of Army Regulations at the time of his death. I was totally shocked as I knew this was untrue, and I informed the Captain of that fact and that I refused to change my Report.

In anger, the Captain ordered me to accompany him to the Battalion Commander’s office to answer for my “insubordination” and face whatever penalty the Colonel deemed appropriate. I did so and explained to the Colonel what had actually happened, that the man’s First Sergeant would verify that the Leave had in fact been approved by the Captain, and that the man’s name was still on the Company HQ’s Duty Status Board noting that he was on Leave, something the 1SG would not had done unless he had personally seen the approved form. The Colonel seemed to side with me and I was dismissed to continue preparing my report and the notification letter. At the same time the 1SG looked into the Company Commander’s waste basket – and found the leave form, signed by him, and then crumpled up and thrown out. He brought the form to Battalion and gave this to the Colonel. While he and I waited outside the office we could hear the Colonel speaking to the Captain in anger but, after a while, he came out of his office, looked at us, and then stated that while the form had in fact been approved the young man still violated regulations by leaving without signing out as required. I was then ordered – again – to change my report noting that this Private died while AWOL.

Now I was the angry one and, although just a Junior NCO (3-striper at the time), I gave the Colonel a “one finger salute” and went back to my office and slammed the door, ignoring the Colonel’s order to stop.

When the Colonel – and most of his Battalion Officers – came into my office I was ready for them, although I thought I could still end up in Leavenworth. Before the Colonel could say a word I laid out on my desk a stack of Leave Forms that, since I was responsible for Duty Status Reports, had been sent to me for filing. As I went through them I sorted out a number that had not been “properly” handled.

“This form is for the Commander of Company C. He is currently on Leave but has not signed out as required by Regulations. I will prepare the AWOL Report on him, Sir. This one is for the First Sergeant of the Combat Support Company. He is currently on leave also but has not signed out. I will report him as AWOL, Sir, as required.” Altogether I found perhaps a dozen others that were technically AWOL to include one of the Colonel’s Staff Officers.

The Colonel looked at me, realized how serious I was, and then turned to his officers and said, “How did you people let me get into this mess?” He then turned to me and said, “Sergeant Keith, prepare your report and the letter, noting that this young man was on approved leave at the time of his death.” I responded by saying, “Yes, Sir. Already done.” He then ordered the Captain to return to his office with him where, I expect, the Captain was reamed a new one.

A few months later the Colonel – a Lieutenant Colonel actually – was promoted to Full Colonel and reassigned to Division HQ. When I had occasion to go to Division HQ I tried to avoid running into him as I still thought I was on the sh-t list with him but one day I did run into him and he told me to come into his office and close the door. This is what he said: “Sergeant Keith, although you might have handled that situation better, you were right and I was wrong. I apologize.”

My respect for this man has never left me to this day.

I was 17 years old. I was taken to court for a paternity suit from my ex-girlfriend. She claimed I was the father of her child. Her and I were very sexually active using the withdrawal method for birth control. Ultimately, I plead no contest and started paying child support monthly. I supported the girl for 19 years with no visitation rights. Certain times were hard and the mother also took me to court to have the support payments increased by 300%. Again, I was ordered by the judge to pay the increase as my income increased. Fast forward to the the present day. The girl now with a daughter of her own messaged me and says, “I look at photos of your children and I don’t see any resemblance to me. I would like to pay to have a DNA test done. Would you agree to this?” I had nothing to lose so I agreed. We get the results back and it was determined I was NOT her father. Her and I went through so many emotions. Anger, relief, sadness and more. I have messaged the mother with no reply. I feel bad for the daughter as now she never knew her biological father and probably never will. I have no recourse to collect the support payments as there is no statute in Canada. I will just live with the fact I helped support a child that turned out good.

The doggie was a pooping machine!

I am Chinese, 44 years old this year. My childhood spanned the entire 1980s and 1990s. When it comes to maintaining cleanliness, this question brings back some memories of a “dirty and chaotic China.”

The first memory is a small detail. In any indoor place in China today, whether it’s a restaurant, hotel, or home, every room will have a plastic trash can. There will be a plastic bag lining the trash can to make it easy to remove the garbage. They usually look like this:

main qimg 5765a971b5b4adf720cffccf943b40f3
main qimg 5765a971b5b4adf720cffccf943b40f3

However, these things were not part of my childhood memories. In other words, decades ago in China, there were no such trash cans. So, how did people throw away garbage in rooms back then? My memory is that people either put the trash in a shared outdoor trash can or threw it on the ground inside the room. Once the trash on the ground accumulated enough, they would then throw it into the large outdoor trash can.

Moreover, there is an evolving version of this small detail: I remember when I just got married in 2005, the plastic bags used to line trash cans were the ones from the vegetable markets. People collected these plastic bags after buying vegetables and used them in their trash cans. No one would buy plastic bags specifically for trash cans.

But today, various types and sizes of trash bags are essential in every Chinese household. The most popular ones are the trash bags that, when full, have two drawstrings on the sides that can be pulled to close the bag. This way, you can lift the heavy trash without worrying about it spilling:

main qimg 5d63556372e5b87b39ec364c32eae931
main qimg 5d63556372e5b87b39ec364c32eae931

My second memory is about littering. I remember when I was in elementary school, around 1992. My mother took me to a newly built park. As we walked, I was eating peanuts and casually throwing the shells on the ground.

A sanitation worker stopped me, but my mother argued with her because she didn’t see a problem with throwing peanut shells on the grass. We thought that even if we didn’t litter, the wind would blow leaves onto the grass. Prohibiting littering was a common slogan on radio, newspapers, and television in China at that time. It’s important to note that because people didn’t care about environmental cleanliness, the government used all mass media to educate the public.

This situation didn’t significantly improve even by the late 1990s. In 2000, a Chinese TV station released a popular crime drama called “The Struggle Between Black and White,” which depicted the solving of a dismemberment case. The most intriguing aspect of this series was that it featured almost no professional actors! Nearly all the key roles were played by ordinary people, and all the police officers and detectives were the actual officers who solved the case.

Since this drama was released in 2000, it reflected the urban landscape of China at that time. The city in the show had a fictional name, “Beihuan City,” but everyone who watched it could recognize it as Xi’an, the city with the Terracotta Army. You could see paper scraps, plastic bags, and other trash flying along the main roads of the city.

In today’s China, littering is unthinkable. If someone throws a piece of waste paper on a commercial street, people will consider them uncivilized. Within minutes, a sanitation worker will pick it up and throw it into a trash can. A few years ago, a moving car threw a pile of shredded paper out the window. A highway cleaner witnessed this and recorded it on his phone, uploading it online, which sparked public outrage. Eventually, the police used roadside cameras to identify the offender, fined him, and demanded a public apology.

My child was born in 2010. If he generates trash while playing outside and can’t find a trash can, he will keep the trash with him until he gets home to throw it away. Once, he had a runny nose and spent an afternoon playing in the community park. When he returned home, all four of his pockets were filled with used tissues. I asked him why he didn’t throw them in the park’s trash cans, and he replied that the park was under renovation and the trash cans were temporarily unavailable.

My third memory is about vegetable markets. Up until 2005, going to an open-air farmers’ market was a challenge. You had to walk on rotting vegetable leaves, wade through the waterlogged seafood section, and endure the nauseating smell of the poultry area just to buy ingredients. In the past decade or so, such farmers’ markets have almost disappeared in China. They have been transformed into tall, specialized buildings, with floor-cleaning machines constantly sweeping the floors, and water flowing through specially designed hidden pipes into the city’s sewage system. Today, farmers’ markets are almost indistinguishable from supermarkets, equipped with elevators, central air conditioning, ventilation systems, Wi-Fi, and each shop having its own independent water supply system.

This is what the farmers’ markets used to be like:

main qimg 8a6d7e2282e09bb17f4db0a98118f782
main qimg 8a6d7e2282e09bb17f4db0a98118f782

This is what farmers’ markets are like today:

main qimg 430999e217f4b137f1f35b2e6a8046ce
main qimg 430999e217f4b137f1f35b2e6a8046ce

My fourth memory is about public restrooms. The relationship between Chinese people and public restrooms could fill an entire book, as there are many legendary stories. When I was a child, public restrooms did not have flushing systems. Everyone, regardless of gender, had to squat over two concrete slabs. If you weren’t careful, you might splash yourself.

Workers would clean the waste once a day. In the summer, Chinese public restrooms would become an unforgettable experience for anyone. In 2006, I bought a book called “Foreigners’ Views on China.” Some foreigners’ most painful memories of China at that time were about “using public restrooms.”

Today’s public restrooms in China are quite a different story. Over the years, as I’ve traveled across the country with my family, we’ve encountered all sorts of interesting restrooms. Some restrooms have real-time status systems that show which stalls are occupied. Some provide tissues via QR code scanning. There are even restrooms equipped with sofas and coffee tables for people to wait comfortably. A significant number of public restrooms have “family toilets” designed for family members assisting elderly or young children.

This summer, we traveled to Qinghai Province in northwest China. The G310 national highway winds through the desolate mountains of Gansu Province for over 100 kilometers. Sometimes, we didn’t see another car for half an hour, and I had to make twelve consecutive turns to find a 500-meter straight stretch of road. This area is known for the Qinling Mountains. One afternoon, we stopped at a roadside public restroom in the middle of nowhere, not even near a village. Surprisingly, it was a well-appointed restroom, equipped with large mirrors, washbasins, stainless steel faucets, and running water. Though I’m not sure if it was tap water or spring water, in the 37°C heat that day, the water felt ice-cold on my hands. The restroom had four rooms: men’s, women’s, a “handicapped toilet,” and a “management room.” It had a functional flushing system, clean tile floors, intact stalls, and a working ventilation system.

So, if I were to explain why China is a clean country today, I would summarize based on my experiences: First, extensive and improved infrastructure means people don’t need to dirty the environment to use the restroom or buy groceries. Second, trash cans, including recycling bins, are everywhere in cities and towns, so people don’t have to search for them. Third, if everything is clean, people are less likely to litter out of embarrassment. In conclusion, China is becoming an increasingly clean and orderly country.

This is what public restrooms in China are like today:

main qimg 1450e1c3ae5c49849867962ae8ad098f
main qimg 1450e1c3ae5c49849867962ae8ad098f

main qimg 5d2048d309868e9ad22a7b893cde0e75
main qimg 5d2048d309868e9ad22a7b893cde0e75

main qimg 20ae48a67bd31404addfa4c749b37e00
main qimg 20ae48a67bd31404addfa4c749b37e00

main qimg b9e358e721a074a41a0b4875f776d407
main qimg b9e358e721a074a41a0b4875f776d407

main qimg c1c59df511203b4c2d132bdbb30d9673
main qimg c1c59df511203b4c2d132bdbb30d9673

“You Know It’s Serious When Amish Get Involved”

Wednesday, Nov 06, 2024 – 04:45 AM

As Pennsylvania’s polls near closing, an unexpected twist has emerged: a massive mobilization of Amish voters. Known for their separation from mainstream society and reliance on traditional values, such as horse-and-buggy transportation (arguably more ‘green’ than EVs), these folks, traditionally not big participators in US politics, have been out in force at PA polling stations, voting for former President Trump after Biden-Harris’ big gov’t waged war on the community.

Let’s begin with the context. Earlier this year, the Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture and big government Democrats targeted a small Amish farmer in Lancaster over compliance issues. This apparently infuriated the Amish community that many of them registered to vote and voted red in the last several days.

Real America’s Voice’s Tera Dahl was speaking at a Trump rally in Pennsylvania on Monday, and she explained that the Amish community is not a traditional group of voters in US elections.

“But they’re voting this year – and I think a big reason is the overreach of government – and one example that could’ve had a big impact was back in January. An Amish farmer was selling his milk – and the gov’t raided his home and stopped his business,” she said.

An Amish person was asked outside one PA polling station: “Who are you voting for?”

He responded, “Donald Trump.” He explained that the Amish had “more freedoms under Trump,” while government overreach drastically increased under Biden-Harris.

US Rep. Lloyd Smucker, R-Pa., whose district includes Lancaster County, at the epicenter of America’s Amish population, told PBS News last week, “They just want government to stay not only out of their businesses but out of their religion.”

With family roots deep in the Amish community, Smucker forecasted a dramatic increase in the Amish vote, “basing that on the enthusiasm we see.”

There are currently 92,000 Amish in PA. It’s going to be a tight race, and these votes could make all the difference.

Brave kid HORRIFIES his teachers by reading their own woke garbage, then his dad shows up…

Oops

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Dale Lehman

The explosion blasted a million obols worth of cometary material into the oblivion of space, a disaster even without their ship being parked at ground zero, but what really rattled Jacey Komarov was the destruction of her entire set of Space Kitchen Deluxe™ radiant cookware, which had been safely stowed on board. She’d bought the set on Callisto twenty-three years before and cared for it like a child ever since. To her, it was more precious than platinum. You couldn’t find gear like that here in the Oort Territories. Standing beside her in his hideous olive green pressure suit, staring up at a black sky liberally sprayed with stars and glittering chunks of comet ice spinning into the void, Arne Slocum seemed hardly to notice. His reaction to the cataclysm was typically juvenile: “Whoa! That was awesome!” Okay, he actually was nearly juvenile: a short, skinny seventeen-year-old with wide, brown eyes and wiry hair that Komarov figured would be ideal for scrubbing out pots and pans. Not her good Space Kitchen Deluxe™ pots and pans, since they were self-cleaning, or had been before their untimely deaths, but she could definitely see grabbing him by the boots, holding him upside down over a filthy pan, and having at it with his skull. Since she no longer had a pan, filthy or otherwise, she slugged his shoulder instead. “Idiot! Look what you did!” He bounced a few feet in the feeble gravity before replying, “I’m looking.” Then he stopped looking and fiddled with the portable extractor cradled in his arms. Its sleek, silver body, massive orange trigger, and flared red muzzle suggested it was a device for killing Tyrannosaurs rather than mining comets. He flipped open a panel on its back and poked a skinny, gloved finger at the circuitry within. “I didn’t think I’d coax that much power from her.” “Stop tinkering! We’re here to collect samples, not vaporize the place from under our own feet. All my stuff is gone!” Slocum scratched what would have been his nose if there hadn’t been a helmet in the way. “You’re not hurt, are you?” He gave her a not entirely medical examination. “Put those eyes back where they belong,” Komarov growled. She turned away from the havoc he’d wreaked. Before her, a jumbled surface of loosely-packed ice and black rock stretched to the horizon, where it melded seamlessly with the onyx sky. Nothing special, really. Every chunck of frozen primordial soup looked the same. This was the Oort Territories, a realm so distant the sun was just a bright star, a place where day was night and night was more night. People came here to strike it rich mining the hydrogen and organics that made corporate executives filthy rich, but somehow only the filthy rich ever got richer, while people like Komarov, scratching out a living employed to a third-rate mining outfit, shambled through shackled to people like Slocum. “Where’s the ship?” Slocum asked. Quick study you are, she groused. “You blew it up along with everything else, including my most prized possessions.” She spread her arms in frustration. “The comet? Fine. The ship? If you absolutely must. But my entire kitchen? Blow yourself up instead!” Slocum’s eyes did a fair impression of a faulty LED flickering between life and death. “I blew up the ship?” “I’m going away now,” Komarov said. “Enjoy the rest of your short life.” She started walking . . . stomping, really . . . okay, bouncing across the frozen wasteland, her weighted boots the only thing keeping her from launching into space. She felt rather than heard the crunch of frozen organics under her feet, smelled nothing but the synthetic cleanliness of recirculated air, saw only glitters in the dark. She didn’t know where she was going, but it didn’t matter. There was nowhere to go but away from Arne Slocum. She’d probably end up back where she started, either from aimless wandering or circumnavigation of the tiny globe, but she didn’t care so long as he wasn’t there when she arrived. Unfortunately, they were still in communications range. “There’s nothing out there.” he said. “Exactly.” “But we don’t have a ship.” “No kidding.” “How do we get home?” If she could put the horizon between them, she wouldn’t have to listen. “Jacey?” The comet wasn’t that big. It shouldn’t take long. “You’re the senior. You’re supposed to deal with situations like this.” “Be very glad you’re not standing behind me,” Komarov grumbled. “Why?” “Because I’d strangle you!” “Oh. Er. Actually . . .” Engulfed by rage, she spun about. The motion would have thrown her headlong across the icefield had not Slocum been a meter back. They collided and fell in slow motion, a tangle of arms and legs and portable extractor. Its bluish beam flashed by Komarov’s head into space where it would either harmlessly dissipate or by freak accident destroy something vital to somebody’s survival. Slocum grunted. “You’re…” His faceplate was pressed against hers and his breathing labored, as though she was squashing him flat, although she couldn’t be, not in this gravity. “…all red.” “You think?” She pushed herself up and dusted off her suit. Motes of ice and organics sparkled into the vacuum. Breathing deliberately and summoning every gram of professionalism left in her roiling brain, she let him pick himself up rather than flinging him across the cosmos. “Maybe you should engage the safety.” “I disabled it.” Mayhem flooded her eyes. “Why?” “Convenience.” She had a vision of approaching him, arms outstretched, grasping fingers encircling his neck, squeezing long and slow and hard until his head popped off. He didn’t share her vision or maybe even notice it. “How do we get home?” “We?” He bounced back up a step, so maybe he had noticed, after all. “I assume you’ve studied the procedures.” “Didn’t have time. I was working on, on, on, this.” He raised the extractor as though offering it to her. Tempting though it was, she didn’t take it. “Before people are dropped on a new target, an emergency package is soft-landed. If the crew becomes stranded, they can activate a distress call. They’ll also find basic tools and provisions.” “Oh. That’s good.” Slocum looked so pleased, he might have designed the package himself. “Where is it?” Komarov pointed. “On the edge of the blast zone.” Slocum fiddled with the extractor some more, as thought that might make all disintegrated things undisintegrate. It didn’t. He looked contrite enough, though, so Komarov set course for whatever remained of the emergency package and motioned him to follow. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a massive crater whose edges and walls had a glassy look. The blast had melted the ice, which refroze as it flowed downhill. She amused herself with the thought of Slocum sliding down the slope, unable to arrest his fall, swooping through the bottom and up the other side until gravity slowed him and pulled him back down, up, down, up, down, over and over, amplitude gradually decreasing, until he came to rest at the bottom and couldn’t climb out again. Sweet justice. “Is that it?” Slocum asked. Not three meters beyond the edge of the crater, a massive black box squatted on the ice, a glowing green button planted in its side. They approached and studied it. Miraculously, it didn’t look damaged. “That’s it,” Komarov decided. She pushed the button, and the box blossomed like a flower, petals opening to reveal more controls, panels, doors, and a big red button marked, “For emergency use only.” That seemed redundant. The whole thing was for emergency use. Slocum held his breath while the box revealed its secrets, then let out a sigh. “You can say that again,” Komarov told him. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t take this out, too.” More contrition was called for. He fiddled with the extractor one more time. She pushed the red button. A control lit up, informing them the distress beacon was active. “You know,” Slocum said, shifting the device in his arms. “I honestly didn’t think I’d coax that much power from . . . “ Something his finger touched when click. The brilliant bluish beam flashed, vaporized the emergency package, and raced over the horizon into space. Komarov screamed. Fortunately for her, enough distress call had transmitted that two hours later a rescue team arrived. Fortunately for Slocum, low-gravity running is trickier than it looks, and they got there before Komarov caught him.

The incredible power of spiritual protection of your cat in 13 signs

What was the strangest battle in Roman history?

the Battle of the Caudine Forks in 321 BC. This one isn’t just strange, it’s downright embarrassing.

The Romans were fighting the Samnites, a tough group from south-central Italy.

Confident as ever, the Roman consuls led their troops into a narrow mountain pass called the Caudine Forks, thinking they’d catch the Samnites off guard. Instead, they walked right into a trap.

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The Samnites had blocked both ends of the pass, and the Romans were stuck like a mouse in a cheese factory.

Now, here’s where it gets really strange.

Instead of slaughtering the trapped Roman army, the Samnite leader, Gaius Pontius, decided to go for maximum humiliation. He forced the Roman soldiers to pass under a yoke, essentially a wooden beam, symbolizing their defeat and subjugation.

They had to stoop low and shuffle under this makeshift arch of shame, completely unarmed and defenseless.

The defeated consuls were forced to sign a peace treaty, but the Senate back in Rome refused to honor it, claiming the consuls had no authority to agree to such terms under duress.

one of the consuls, Spurius Postumius Albinus, actually proposed that he and his fellow commanders be handed over to the Samnites in chains as a sort of “sorry about that whole breaking the treaty thing.” The Samnites, showing a level of honor in this bizarre situation, refused and sent them back.

Pretty weird.

I did – sort of. When I was fresh out of university and young and innocent (well, kind of…), I joined a programme run by a large Swiss bank for graduates. When they hired me, the recruiter told me explicitly that my salary during training is just a training salary, and once I pass the training programme after a year and start as a regular employee, then my salary will roughly double, as that is a regular starting employee (graduate level) salary.

I did the programme and passed, and then went to work at the bank as a regular employee. My first monthly salary, though, was about 2% higher than what I had been earning while on the programme. So I called up HR and explained the situation, assuming there must have been a mistake. I ended up talking to the same recruiter, who laughed at me, called me a sucker and told me to go complain to the CEO.

So I did. I wrote him a very polite letter, explaining that I was terribly embarrassed to be bothering him with such a little thing, but I was told to contact him by this recruiting guy to sort out this misunderstanding. The CEO actually (and to his credit) called me that same afternoon and he had obviously looked me up and found that I was a complete nobody. But he kept it very short and to the point, basically saying that the corporate philosophy of the bank he was in charge of was very, very important and if that was what had been promised me, then that was what I would get. He then said that I should make an appointment with the head of HR and explain the situation to her. It got sorted out after a chat with the head of HR, who asked if I was happy in my job. I admitted that I didn’t find it terribly challenging, but I understood that you need to gather experience before moving on to more interesting jobs. She asked me about my background and the kind of things I have worked on in the past and asked if I would like to move to a rather more interesting job. Young as I was, I said “sure” without even knowing what it was. That same day I was transferred away from my boring job and started running a special projects team, reporting directly to… yep, the CEO. For quite a bit more than double the trainee salary. It was an… interesting decade.

Oh – I found out later that the recruiter got fired. I wasn’t exactly sad to see him go, but that hadn’t been my intention, and I felt bad about it.

Turned out okay for me…

CHINA is INSANE! (First Day in Shanghai)

The c919 is optimized for regional service. Its entry into SEA will begin with Chinese airlines operating flights between SEA and China, provided the countries accept the type and airworthiness certification of the CAAC.

Since all 3 narrow bodies (a320, b737, c919) use the same leap family of engines, nothing much separate them in terms of operational efficiency, although the c919, being the more modern airframe, is a little lighter, and optimized for cargo duty.

Where the Chinese can be competitive is delivery time lines, cost and the speed of iteration. We will see the gradual indigenization of key components from engines to avionics, as comac develops superclusters of aviation suppliers.

SEA is 650m today, the same size as Europe. Reaching Europe’s level of connectivity will require plenty more planes, which the c919 is well positioned to serve.

But that’s in the future. The c919 order book will take the next decade to clear, and this will be a good time for the model to build a safety record, as well as a service network.

Pirate Art

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Ukraine was shelling Russian majority Donbas for 8 years, killing and maiming thousands. Two treaties signed and witnessed by multiple stakeholders failed to put a stop to the killing.

There was Minsk, and Minsk ii, which as Angela recalled, were deceitful instruments to buy Ukraine time to build up its military.

Now, are the Taiwanese killing mainlanders with heavy arms today? Is the substantial Taiwanese population on the mainland living under discrimination and fear?

There is no enmity between the Chinese, yes, CHINESE on both sides of the straits.

The quarrel all along has been which system should be in charge.

I keep in regular contact with my Taiwanese friends. Despite the intense military drills which has showcased the ability of the mainland to blockade Taiwan, Taiwanese society has not mobilized on a war footing. There is no trepidation for an inevitable war in the foreseeable future, or the urgency to prepare for one.

In fact, SOPs to identify and challenge mainland contacts have been scaled down, because the intensity is just too hot to handle.

Taiwan’s replacement youth will shrink 40% in the coming years. Schools have closed and class size have come down. And yet wages remain depressed even in downtown Taipei.

Is Taiwan in the mood for war?

I figure not.

Now look at the mainland side and the capabilities coming online. There is a queue for university graduates to join the pla, while regular drills mobilizing civilian assets to assist in the war effort occur in the provinces closest to Taiwan. This includes provisions for the evacuation and care for mass casualty, as civilian infrastructure is degraded.

The Chinese are prepared to absorb Gaza level of destruction.

Not high standard of living.but I am satisfied with the following aspects of China:

1. Safety: It is extremely safe.

2. The transportation, electricity, internet, and other conveniences are all very reliable.

3. Education and Medical: The quality of Education is high and the cost is low. As long as you have good grades and are willing to learn, being from a poor family is not a big problem.Medical care is similar to education in terms of quality and affordability.

4. Industrial Products: There is a wide variety, and they are inexpensive and high-quality. On platforms like Taobao, you can find almost anything, and orders arrive the next day.

5. Convenience: For example, when buying an air conditioner, installation is free, with only a small fee for transportation, usually around twenty to thirty dollars.

Some people call this exploitation of delivery or installation workers, but that’s not entirely accurate. In another scenario, when workers fall ill, medical care is also cheap and fast, even though doctors need to spend 24 years studying.

6. Food: It is cheap and fresh, especially vegetables and fruits. Beef was a bit expensive before, but this year it has dropped nearly 50%. Some say it’s because Argentina exports a lot of beef to China.

I think this is not entirely good, as I’ve heard that many cattle farmers are suffering significant losses this year. The government should subsidize them.

Most Disappointing Aspects:

Housing Prices and Rent: Especially in big cities. For example, a 120-square-meter house in the suburbs of Beijing might cost around 800,000~900,000 dollars, which is too high given the income levels of Chinese people.

Nearby, there used to be three bookstores and several restaurants, but recently they have all closed. This is because a new subway line is about to be completed, and the landlord, anticipating increased foot traffic, shamelessly raised the rent threefold.

After the negotiations broke down, the merchants had no choice but to close their businesses. The bookstore owner, whom I really liked, said with resignation that during the negotiations, the landlord used the “six-character mantra” —爱租租,不租滚!(If you want renting, rent; if not, Get out!)

I can accept the closure of restaurants, but it s really upsetting to see bookstores closeing.

These 3 bookstores have been a part of my life for 18 years; I used to spend several hours every week browsing these bookstores.

The only consolation is that they also sell online, so I can still buy books from them online.

But I still prefer to go to physical bookstores, flipping through books and deciding whether to buy them.

One of these bookstores has a warehouse not too far from my home—just a 1.5-hour bicycel ride away. I’m still willing to ride my bike there to browse and purchase books.

Exorbitant rent is just too damaging for physical stores

A friend of mine summed it up very well:

In cities like Beijing and Shanghai, if you solve the housing problem, everything else is a small issue. But if you can’t solve the housing problem, every issue becomes a big problem.

Overall, aside from housing prices and rent, especially in big cities, I think things are still pretty good, considering how large the country is and how poor it used to be.

Col. Douglas Macgregor : US Dangerous Foreign Policy

The cops arrived at our school one afternoon. Moments later, we saw our principal being taken out in handcuffs.

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Dana Goodman was under arrest for having a sexual relationship with an underage girl. In our rural community, the future farmers association was an important school group on campus. The president of the FFA was a sweet and friendly girl. She was well adjusted and popular among her friends, and generally having a great time at high school. Until her principal started talking to her more.

Mr. Goodman seemed like an alright principal. African Americans were honestly underrepresented in the administration, so for some this was grounds for positive receival. He dressed well, talked politely, and did his job fairly well. But occasionally he would make comments. Once at a school assembly he said something in front of the whole school about ‘homely’ girls. The first indication he was noticing the physical appearance of his female high school students.

Rumors were flying that he was friendly with the cheerleading coach, a teacher who was just a few years younger than him. But then there were other rumors. And then there was evidence. Not just a young girls brave decision to go to police, but used condoms and fluids tossed carelessly into a classroom trash bin.

Fast forward to the afternoon when the cops showed up. Students were not told directly what was going on. But more than a thousand faces were peering out all the windows, some cracking jokes, some shocked, some who already knew.

After the whole scandal, we learned that Goodman’s leadership apparently led others down the same route and two other teachers were also arrested for relationships with students.

That was the biggest scandal at our high school, but the biggest scandal outside of it? Goodman got his 15 year sentence reduced to four and he is already a free man once again.

Crab-Stuffed Catfish with Parmesan Crust

crab stuffed catfish
crab stuffed catfish

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 4 U.S. Farm-Raised Catfish Fillets
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 cup onion, diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 cup white wine
  • 1 pound lump crab meat
  • 2 cups Parmesan, grated (divided)
  • 2 tablespoons chives, chopped (divided)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Melt butter in medium, nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.
  2. Add onions and garlic and sauté until translucent. Add wine and simmer until mixture is almost dry. Add lump crab meat, season with salt and pepper, and cook for 2 minutes.
  3. Remove from heat and cool in refrigerator for 2 to 3 hours until completely chilled. Once chilled, fold in 1/2 cup Parmesan and 1 tablespoon chopped chives to crab mix.
  4. Using a sharp knife, butterfly each fillet lengthwise horizontally as evenly as possible. Place 2 to 3 tablespoons of crab mixture on bottom half of catfish, being careful not to overfill. Fold top of catfish over to cover stuffing.
  5. Season stuffed catfish with salt and pepper. Dip fillets into remaining grated Parmesan, coating evenly.
  6. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat and add olive oil. Carefully sauté catfish until a golden brown crust is formed. Turn catfish over and cook for an additional 3 minutes.
  7. Garnish fillets with remaining chives.

Why are so many counties joining Russia and China to de-dollarize their economy and trade?

Because the US government has been irresponsible on deficit and debt.

Soon or later, either the US would go bankruptcy, or it would solve the problem by having a war.

Acient money has actual value. It was usally made from precious metals such as gold, silver, and blonze.

Modern money is a credit, and is endorsed by the government to have virtual value.

When a government over releases money, it would create huge inflation. Not 10%, not 20%, but 1000% or 10000%.

With a full pack of money, you may be able to purchase a pack of cigarette.

In 2023 alone, the US government over-spent 1.7 trillion USD, which it has to borrow from others, domestic or foreign investors.

With the uncontrollabe over-spending, the national debt went up too.

It has just reached 35 trillion, and is about 100 thousand per US citizen.

There is no way that the US government could repay the debt in the foreseeable future, because US government is still creating more deficit every year.

Even the interest of the national debt in 2024 will be around 0.9 trillion.

With an annual revenue of over 4 trillion USD, US government would have to owe more money year by year.

To attract more people and organizations to purchase US tresury, the interest rate must be raised. With higher interest, the US government will have a higher annual expenditure, which will make the deficit bigger, so that the US government will have to release even more treasury.

It’s a typical vicious circle.

It would be impossible to increase government revenue, since it’s mostly tax.

It would be also impossible to lower the government expenditure, since too many people are making their benefit out of it.

See? They are going to spend more by borrowing more.

If it was any other country, its economy would be collapsed.

According to Ta Kung Pao in 16 Aug 1948:

Just within the first half of August,

food price increased 3.9 MILLION times
housing price increased 0.77 MILLION times
clothing price increased 6.52 MILLION times

It was because the KMT/ROC government tried to release new currency to replace the old one.

The exchang ratio was 1 Chinese gold yuan (new) to 200 old fiat currency.

According to the statistics, only 200 million CGY was enought to exchange all the old currency released, but KMT printed 2 billion CGY. The extra CGY was a disaster from the begining.

By the time people realized the government having no ability to control goods prices, all prices went up like crazy.

Someone went to buy boxes of antibiotics. The seller told him that this has no use if no one’s injured or infected. Buyer said that he didn’t give a damn. He bought them only because they were expensive.

Even shoes were all bought, regardless the size.

I am not sure if this reminds western people about something.

Like I said, if it was any other country, the economy would be collapsed already.

However, it’s the US.

According to the Modern Money Theory, the biggest export product of the US is the US dollar.

While other countries had to work hard selling goods, just to make some money to buy from other countries, the US just sit in a chairt and type some numbers into the computer, and here is the money.

US dollar is the biggest international settlement currency.

In a period, having USD is more important than having goods. Because no country can produce everything, and USD can get you goods from the market.

So the US spends USD printed out of thin air and receive goods with actual value. During the process, the US released its internal inflation to the world.

Comparing to its internal market, the global market is much bigger and is able to contain more USD. By over-release the same amount of money, the US has the world trading to absorb its inflation, while other countries had to afford it on themselves.

However, like I presented above, national debt of the US has reached a scary high level, because there is only a certain amount of USD can be transfered from US internal market to the outside world.

Because the capitalists cannot just share their benefit to the general public, so most people still have about the same salary, which makes the total disposable money in the US a rather stable number. That’s how much the US can buy, and how much the US can export its inflation to the world.

Soon or later, countries around the world would have to face the fact that economy of the US is beyond being repairable.

When that moment came, USD will become toilet paper. Whoever still holding huge amount will be fucked totally.

It happened once when the US claimed to abandon Bretton Woods system. In that system, the USD has a fixed exchange rate with gold, which is 35USD to 1 ounce gold. The US wanted to release more USD, because the total amount of gold doesn’t change fast, not as fast as the international trading.

To its allies, mostly European countries, denying the value of USD meant the USD they were holding would become toilet paper. So they chose to recognize the value of USD even when it has no connection to gold anymore.

But this time, China decided to not tolerate the irresponsible child act of the US.

China has been trying to establish a new trading system based on goods rather than any specific curreny.

Purpose of doing international tradings should not be “to earn some USD so that I could buy stuff”, but “I have goods, so I can eventually change it into something I need”.

It should be a multilateralist system instead of unilateralist.

In the current system, being kicked out from SWIFT by the US means not being able to buy vital stuff from the world, such as vaccine. Iran had this problem at early stage of COVID-19 pandemic, and Russia also had this problem right after the Ukraine War.

In addtion, the US in recent years has been more and more aggressive.

As the single pole of the world, it acted like a spoiled kid, to sanction whichever it dislike.

It created so many enemies. There are so many of them that they can actually establish their own circle.

If the emenies of the US can surive on their own, then there is even less excuse for them to keep using USD.

I think white house would be happy about it, since they are so eager to totally decouple with China.

UNFORGIVEN (1992) Movie Reaction w/ Coby FIRST TIME WATCHING

Shorpy

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Drinking is a large part of adult culture in the United States. Although I have gone long periods of my adult life without drinking, I have never given drinking up completely because I have realized it makes social situations more awkward.

Some people get really uncomfortable if they are drinking and not everyone else at the table is drinking. It’s also a time-honored tradition to conduct certain business meetings in informal sessions that sometimes feature drinking. Additionally, sports, holidays, and cookouts usually involve alcohol.

In my family, this isn’t a problem really. A few weeks ago we had a family gathering and a close friend came with me. She remarked how no one in my family drinks at all or does any drugs except me. First of all, survivorship bias is apparent. Secondly, because there have been so many people with substance abuse issues in my family, drinking or smoking marijuana, although perfectly legal, are nearly taboo. Our family gatherings are usually completely devoid of alcohol, because nearly everyone in my close family gave up drinking in any form years ago or never developed an interest. We never tell our guests one way or another that they can’t bring drinks, but if they do, they’re usually the odd man out.

Although I used to be a nearly daily drinker, these days I no longer prefer to drink as the main way I relax after a rough day. Increasingly, I am not the only one. Many young people are putting aside alcohol in favor of more holistic hobbies that don’t take such a toll on the body and mind. Going to a local adult arcade or bar and ordering a mocktail or alcohol free beer isn’t that unusual around here these days.

My husband is a very shy man. So much so, that when we went out on a first date, he barely even looked at me. I very reluctantly accepted to go out on a second date, which ended up being pretty much the same. This led me to believe that there’s just no chemistry between us, and that it’s best we end it at that point. I really liked him, but didn’t want to get hurt as I thought he might be an emotionally unavailable person. My husband’s reaction was to say:

“Ok, this makes me very sad, but if you don’t think going out with me makes sense, there’s just no point going forward. However, may I ask for a reason?”

I have to admit I was surprised hearing such a response. Men I tried dating would typically get very angry, insult me, curse at me, or say something to humiliate me, which made me wary of rejecting someone openly.

I explained to him how I felt, to which my husband said that he actually likes me a lot, but is extremely shy, and that if I would like to go out with him again, he would be more open. On our third date he greeted me with a big grin and a warm hug and from then on we were inseparable.

So the first “green flag” in my partner was his ability to calmly accept rejection without perceiving that his ego has been hurt.

Space Burns

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Stevie Aldrich

“CONKLIN!” Havaderr wailed. His face was the brightest red and steaming with heat. The veins in his neck throbbed noticeably, but he waited as still as he could for Conklin to answer. A buzz came in over the intercom above Havaderr’s head.

     “Hey, was that you shouting, Havaderr?” Conklin’s voice crackled with static and attitude. Havaderr shut his eyes and repeated his Zen mantra in his head.

     “Havaderr? What’s your problem?”

     Havaderr’s eyes opened, and in the most even tone he could manage; he said his mantra out loud.

     “I am calm. I am calm. I can overcome this. I am strong. I am strong. I can overcome anything.” Havaderr spoke through gritted teeth, spittle flying across the room as he focused on keeping his anger inside rather than shouting and blowing the place up with Conklin inside.

     “Hey guy, are you going to answer me or what?” Conklin’s voice implied his own rising impatience. Havaderr moved to the button on the wall nearest him to respond.

     “Yes, Conklin, I was shouting,” Havaderr said as evenly as his rage would allow. “Get your ass to 4A NOW!” As he trailed off, he clenched his teeth together so hard he felt a grinding that might as well have been a tooth chipping. Before Conklin’s reply came, Havaderr heard an irritated sigh over the intercom.

     “Yeah, be right ther-.” Conklin barely finished his sentence before releasing the button, cutting himself off at the end.

     Moments later, a door slid open down the hall, several yards away from Havaderr. Conklin came into the hall, looking both ways before spotting Havaderr.

     “What the hell, why are you shouting and-“ Havaderr cut Conklin off with a finger to his mouth to silence him.

     “I’m going to show you something in this room behind me, and it’s best if your mouth is shut when I do.” Havaderr’s voice wavered, he was still trying to control his anger. Conklin looked confused as ever but kept his mouth shut. With a worried expression, Conklin followed Havaderr to another door. Havaderr stood aside and opened the door for Conklin to enter alone. Conklin stood in the doorway staring, then Havaderr shoved him wholly into the room from behind and closed the door.

     “Havaderr, what’s going on? What the fu-ahhhh!” The intercom inside the restroom was unnecessary, but Havaderr appreciated it right now. He would have heard Conklin screaming from quite a distance, but hearing Conklin’s disgust and horror in surround sound was more pleasing. A slice of anger slid off his shoulders and a small smile appeared on his face.

     The door rattled, clearly Conklin on the other side trying to burst through, but Havaderr held the lock button, keeping Conklin trapped inside.

     “What kind of game is this Havaderr? Let me out, for Christ’s sake!” Conklin was panicking, releasing more anger from Havaderr’s shoulders and filling his belly with laughter.

     “This is no game, friend. This is you coming face to face with your own incompetence,” Havaderr said over the intercom, still smiling.

     “Havaderr! Let me out of here!” Conklin screamed and started ramming the door again.

     “I don’t think so, Conklin. If you look to the left of the door, I’ve been kind enough to set you up with plenty of cleaning supplies for the job, which is a lot more than you did for me. I’d suggest you start tackling that shit before it starts tackling you.” Havaderr exploded with laughter, letting go of the intercom and floating backward as he held onto his stomach. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Conklin kept banging on the door and pleading to be released, but Havaderr couldn’t hear anything over the roar of his own hysteria.

     Curled up in fetal position, floating in the hallway, Havaderr worked himself out of his fits of laughter. He wiped the joyful tears from his eyes and started breathing normally again. He moved back to the intercom.

     “Look mate, this restroom was in your sector to clean. Obviously, you did a piss poor job,” Havaderr grabbed his side, holding the laughter in after such a quality pun. “I told you, cleaning the restrooms would be the most important job, because if it isn’t done right, this happens. Floating excrement!” Conklin didn’t say anything, but Havaderr heard him kick or punch the door.

     “I’ll take your silence as admitting you did a sloppy job the first time. You know, I needed to do some business, and I walk into the restroom greeted with a turd to the face, which I’m assuming belonged to you, so I have no sympathy for you right now. Clean the damn restroom like you were supposed to, and I’ll let you out.” Havaderr waited for a response. He was eager to shower off the stench and stain of human waste from himself before finishing his day.

     “Yeah, alright,” Conklin said over the intercom, sounding defeated and guilty. Havaderr nodded his head and left Conklin to figure out how to clean a restroom with feces floating freely throughout.

     “Like I said, not a drop of sympathy for you. Do it right the first time, and we won’t run into stupid problems like that,” Havaderr said coolly, scrubbing at the built-up muck in the corners of the glass.

     Conklin was still cranky from cleaning the restroom the day before, and he meant to let Havaderr know just how little he appreciated the tactless way he was pushed into the situation without warning.

     “Chin up, Conklin. We have one more day before our shift is over, and we can get the hell off this floating heap of death,” Havaderr motioned toward the clear chambers that housed the comatose bodies of several crew members, one of which whose glass he was scrubbing.

     “Remind me, what’s up with these bodies? They’re dead, yeah?” Conklin asked.

     “No, they’re alive, they’re the crew, dumbass,” Havaderr grunted at Conklin. He looked over to see Conklin hovering around the main dashboard, not a rag or mop near him. “And I wouldn’t mind if you got to work while you asked your questions,” he barked. Conklin jumped and reached for a rag tucked into a closed bucket tethered nearby. He started mindlessly wiping at the dashboard without paying close attention.

     “Okay, but how come they’re asleep?” Conklin asked. Havaderr sighed as he paused and rolled his eyes.

     “Do I look like the Captain of this ship? All I know is, this crew is traveling some number of lightyears, so the ship has been programed for regular stops near inhabited planets for maintenance and cleaning. We drew the short straw, so we get to hop from the ship we were on previously, to this one, and then another one before heading back home. Nobody else was this far out into deep space to do the job, so we get a long shift before our break. At least they’re paying us over time, eh?” Havaderr smiled at the thought of a paycheck double its usual amount. He looked in on the half-naked man inside the tube he was cleaning, tapping on the glass with his knuckle and laughing at how strange the sight was.

     Air escaped the edges of the door, and it hissed loudly. The smile fell from Havaderr’s face as he scanned the chamber looking for an explanation. The door swung open and the half-naked man floated out as if to follow. Thankfully, he was attached to a few tubes that kept him reigned in and asleep, but the color left Havaderr’s face once he realized that would only last for so long.

     Havaderr turned to Conklin, who looked just as confused.

     “He just-just-he-“ Havaderr stuttered, unable to decide what he was trying to say. The man’s feet flew upward so his back was parallel to the floor and his right side dipped down. Slowly, he started to spin, so he was upside down. All the while, Havaderr and Conklin stared without any clue how to fix it.

     “Did you touch something?” Havaderr shouted at Conklin, who shook his head wordlessly.

     “I didn’t touch anything!” Havaderr went back to staring at the half-naked man, perplexed. After a minute, Havaderr decided they couldn’t leave the man like that.

     “Get over here and help me with this!” He yelled at Conklin. Still silent, Conklin moved toward Havaderr and the unconscious man. Havaderr and Conklin wore their gravity belts at 85% power to keep from floating off like the man from the tube, but it allowed them a bit more mobility too. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any extras to strap to the man, so he continued to spin and flip through the air.

     One of the wires connecting the man to his casket snapped, leaving only one left to keep him from flying down the corridor and into every other part of the ship. Havaderr and Conklin shared a look of fear but said nothing.

     Havaderr grabbed the man’s knees and tried to pull them down so the man was right side up, but as he pulled, the man’s whole body moved toward Havaderr. Conklin remained motionless, watching the unconscious body float into Havaderr. Havaderr struggled and groped, trying his very best to wrangle the helpless man, but even his best efforts left him with the man’s body bumping into him clumsily. He accidentally grabbed the man’s buttocks, and the man’s armpit swung around and slapped him in the face. All in all, it reminded Conklin of two young people at their first school dance, trying not to step on each other.

     Conklin covered the smile on his face, but the more Havaderr fought with the floating man and lost, the more the urge to laugh rose in his belly. When the man launched a foot directly into Havaderr’s eye, Conklin lost it. With one hand on the man’s shoulder and his other arm wrapped around the man’s torso, Havaderr stopped to see what was so funny to Conklin. He didn’t have to ask; he knew how he looked.

     “Would you knock it off and help me! I don’t know what we disconnected, but that could be vital to this man’s life!” Havaderr tried to repeat his mantra in his head, but he couldn’t hear anything over Conklin’s laughter. Havaderr grumbled as he kept spinning the man back into position, with no help from Conklin, who was tumbling in circles on the other side of the room.

     Finally, Havaderr got the man into his up-right position and back into the tube. As best as he could, he reattached the disconnected wires, but he couldn’t pull the door shut.

     “Conklin! Find the button to close this door, hurry, before he tries to escape again!” Havaderr pleaded.

     Conklin straightened up and moved to the dashboard he had been cleaning. On the first try, he hit a button, and the door closed, sealing itself. Havaderr wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Conklin, a little puzzled. Conklin’s laughter died down, but when he saw Havaderr near collapse and panting, his laughter boiled over.

     “What is wrong with you? Were you too busy finding this hilarious to help me save that man’s life?” Havaderr demanded, huffing and puffing.

     “Calm down, he’s fine,” Conklin squeaked. “The buttons are clearly labeled on the dash here, see?” Conklin pointed to the dashboard. Havaderr saw buttons marked to open doors, close doors, start specific mechanisms, stop the same mechanisms, and a bunch of other things Havaderr didn’t understand. What he did think he understood, was how the door opened in the first place.

     “Did you open his door on me?” Havaderr asked Conklin, the anger rising again.

     “Yeah, mate, you should have seen the look on your face!” Conklin rolled over laughing.

     “You idiot! You could have killed the man, we could be fired, what the hell is wrong with you?” Havaderr bellowed.

     “Relax Havaderr, you’ll give yourself a stroke!” Conklin pulled himself together for a second, setting his feet back on the floor and pointing to the dashboard again.

     “This here, that indicates their vital signs. You can see they’re all perfectly healthy, no harm done,” Conklin said matter-of-factly. Havaderr was flustered. He could only trust Conklin’s word, he had no idea what any of the lights or buttons meant on the dash.

     “You couldn’t have known it would be okay, though. What if the tube that detached from his arm was something that kept him alive?” Havaderr exclaimed. Conklin rolled his eyes, irritated that Havaderr wasn’t figuring it out as easily as he was.

     “All that tube did was give him pleasant dreams; it wasn’t important. He’ll live, and nobody need ever know you almost killed a man,” Conklin started to giggle again. Havaderr’s face turned tomato red and he clenched his fist, trying to fight the overwhelming desire to punch Conklin in the face.

     “You did this on purpose?” Havaderr said, strained.

     “Well, maybe don’t lock me in a room with floating shit again, and we’ll be fine,” Conklin smiled, feeling pleased with himself.

Myanmar has long been in a state of de facto civil war.

The root cause lies in the Myanmar government’s blatant policy of ethnic discrimination. Citizens’ identification cards are divided into six levels by color, and the rights enjoyed decrease according to the level.

Only the Bamar people hold the first-level ID cards, which grant them the right to vote and be elected. This has led to 40% of the minority groups, who face varying degrees of discrimination, attempting armed resistance. There are over a dozen “ethnic local armed forces” spread across Myanmar. For decades, the Myanmar military government has tried to eradicate them completely but has never succeeded.

I am Chinese, so I will speak about the impact on China.

  1. Border Security: In recent years, when the fighting spread to the China-Myanmar border, shells from both sides of the conflict crossed the border, hitting our schools and killing border civilians. After a stern protest from the Chinese government, such incidents have significantly decreased.
  2. Refugees Crossing the Border: This is truly troublesome. As a Chinese person, I feel that some of these refugees may have a higher crime rate than local Chinese residents. China designated an area to provide humanitarian aid, but I heard that after the conflict subsided, tens of thousands of these refugees were sent back to Myanmar.
  3. The Ultimate Solution: Building a Wall: The Chinese government quickly constructed a 500-kilometer border wall, consisting of 4 meters high barbed wire, non-lethal high voltage current,blades, cameras, and sensors, equipped with a loudspeaker warning system and remote shouting devices.This system can detect border crossers in the first instance, and border personnel can escort them back. The sensors are used to detect tunnels; when someone tries to dig a tunnel to cross the border wall, vibrations are captured, and an alarm is triggered.

This has nothing to do with humanitarianism, and everyone can understand this. I have heard that the United States has also built a wall on the Mexican border to prevent illegal crossings.

If the Myanmar military government does not abandon its severe ethnic discrimination policy, the situation in Myanmar will remain turbulent.

A woman came in with her 16 year old, overweight son, it matters, ro the big box store where I worked. He was starting a fast food job the next day, needed a blue, Oxford shirt. Well we had two sets of shirts. Regular sizes in sale, big sizes not in sale. When I measured the kid for a shirt turns out he needed a 171/2 neck, so I told Mama that the large size he needed wasn’t on sale. And they were all properly signed as such. So she gets pissy, it’s 8:pm, we close at 9:pm. So I take the shirts out of packages, have him try them and we find kne he can wear. Now she says to me (this was 35 years go) Greta this is in sale for $8. I said no it’s not on sale, it’s a big men’s size and they are $10, regular price. She starts in in me, I didn’t argue, I just reiterated that it was $10, I couldn’t change the the price. Well she gets Sonny by the arm and marches him out to go about 100 yards to another small regional chain department store we had in town. It’s now 8:40pm, both stores close at 9. So I’m hacked off because she really was obnoxious, the son is embarrassed terribly. So she marches out the door. I took every shirt in his size and one size larger and put them in the stockroom hidden in a fruit of the loom men’s briefs box I found empty. I left them for 4 days then brought them out again. This wasn’t the kids fault, as you’d expect, kids do everything last minute, his mother made him apply for the job, he for it and they had a late interview. Hence arriving at 8:pm. But they wanted him to start the next day so her whole works was getting turned upside down. Don’t take it out on me lady. There were 4 shirts I hid. Over those few days, I was off one. Apparently she came in while I was off and have someone else a hard time. I didn’t and still don’t care.

I was a Marine Recruiter in 1992 and I walked into the Social Security Office to get a SSN verification for one of my recruits.

The guy behind the counter tells me that he was a Force Recon Marine and I told him that I was a Recon Marine as well. We start comparing stories and he had been to Amphibious Recon School, Scout Swimmer, Scuba, Jump, Free-fall.

As it turned-out he knew quite a few people that I knew who were sort of legends in the Recon Community.

I asked him how long he had been in? He told me, “8 years.” Then I asked him,” Why did you get out if you already did two enlistments? “

He said that he got out to join the French Foreign Legion. I said, “How was that?”

He said verbatim, “It made Force [Recon] seem like Sunday School. “

He said that he had to do everything all over again Infantry, Jump, Scuba, Free fall. He told me that he he eventually made into the Parachute Commando Regiment.

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main qimg 03d43102cbc5e48d0bbf58e96c1c63d3

*UPDATE EDIT. I remember an incident that I witnessed in Saudi Arabia during Desert Shield/Desert Storm.

We were waiting in line to take field showers at the Division Service Support Group (DSSG) area when a group of Legionaries drove up in their rickety jeeps.

One of the junior guys is so excited to be getting a shower, that he hops in line with us while forgetting to take his rifle with him.

A few moments later, his Sergeant comes running-up and starts yelling at him in French. Then, he proceeds to start beating the guy. He almost beat the dude unconscious at which point a whole bunch of Marines intervened.

As a LCpl, I was pretty shocked by what I witnessed. I’m pretty sure that the rest of us Marines were stunned including several Staff NCO’s and Officers who also happened to be standing in line.

I saw a couple of FFL Officers drive-up soon after and they were yelling at the Sergeant in French and then they all get in their vehicles and drove off.

My assumption is what we witnessed wasn’t supposed to have occurred in public and that it was supposed to have taken place “behind closed doors.”

This is probably the only time I’ll post a picture of myself…

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main qimg 3cbcbe9e426242c9abd13278ba5b461c lq

But I think I was a pretty cute little kid. I was a good little kid. I listened to everything my mom told me.

No dad in my life? No problem- I had mom. Never saw kids outside of school? Mom was enough for me. Wasn’t allowed outside by myself? Mom says it’s for the best, so it has to be for the best.

I didn’t question anything until I was around eight years old.

The first thing I started questioning was my father. Where was he? Why didn’t I have a dad like all the other kids? Why doesn’t he want me?

My father had walked out of my life when I was six (he hadn’t actually been there since I was three, really).

Even my new step dad couldn’t stop these feelings inside me- I wanted to know him. Something inside of me craved to know him so badly.

Day after day I would beg my mother and step father- they continued to ask why and say no. I cried to them- it made no difference. The answer was no.

Well, when I was eleven, no wasn’t enough for me. I called him and arranged a visit anyway.

And that’s when the fighting started.

I wasn’t a good kid anymore. I started complaining about the chores I had to do- it wasn’t fair- none of the other kids have to do as many chores as I do.

But the another common fight we had was about friends. I was never allowed out. There was no reasonable explanation- Mom said I wasn’t, so I wasn’t.

But that wasn’t enough for me anymore.

It was the same thing with a cellphone, the technology, the food I wanted to eat, the people I wanted to hang out with, the books I wanted to read, even the music I listened to.

But no just isn’t enough anymore.

I don’t think parents stop loving their kids. I think that parents just stop liking their kids. What parents don’t understand is that their kids are going to grow up- they’re not going to stay obedient and docile forever.

One day mom and dad’s “No” won’t be enough. You’ll have to have reasons to back up your answers.

I know my parents love me. But I also know that they didn’t really want a kid- they weren’t ready.

I love my parents and I hope my siblings turn out better than I did.

Are all these UFOs an Alien Invasion or has Project Blue Beam finally begun?

The Bracky Bros

The US turned into a kakistocracy where circus acts, snake oil salesmen, sellouts, and dementia patients run the government.

Americans mocked and ridiculed China’s successful trip to the previously unexplored dark side of the Moon. Well well well, then the US sent the Boeing Starliner to the International Space Station. It looks like the Hotel California where “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave!”

China will take away their excess profits.

When I was a child, my family bought a television set.

I will never forget that day.

The whole family got up very early and counted the money over and over again—it was all of my father’s salary for 36 months, saved bit by bit by the whole family.

At that time, China couldn’t produce its own televisions and had to import them from abroad, which was extremely expensive for us.

I need to explain why China could make hydrogen bombs and nuclear submarines back then, but not televisions.

Because after its founding, China was so poor and backward—poorer than any African country—that it could only invest its limited resources into vital projects for survival, especially in heavy industrial equipment.

People worked on empty stomachs and exported every grain of saved food to earn foreign exchange, which was immediately reinvested into heavy industry production.

 

(Movie screenshot: Do you know what they are doing? They are not calculating accounts, but calculating nuclear weapons data. At that time, China had no computers, and even calculators were rare. They could only rely on countless people to use the crude calculation tools invented by their ancestors nearly 2,000 years ago to calculate bit by bit… It was very sad and tragic.)

The origin of China’s nuclear submarines can be traced back to an American children’s toy. At that time, Huang Xuhua, known as the father of China’s nuclear submarines, had no idea how to build one. One day, while visiting a diplomat’s home, he discovered that the diplomat had bought a $2 American toy nuclear submarine for his child. Huang was delighted and carefully analyzed the toy’s exterior and internal structure. Ultimately, he found the inspiration he needed.

Eight years later, China’s first nuclear submarine was launched.

This is also why I have always believed that the diffusion of technology is inevitable. Permanent blockades are impossible.

****

This was actually very against human nature and extremely painful.

By the 1980s, public discontent had reached a shocking level, and the Chinese Communist Party had to use some foreign exchange to buy imported luxury goods, such as televisions, to appease the people.

My family also experienced a similar situation when bought a TV.

At that time, a neighbor had a TV, but the child and I had a bad relationship.

All the children in the neighborhood could go to his house to watch TV, except me.

When his family played cartoons, I also wanted to watch them.

I stood in front of his closed door and “listened” to the TV cartoons.

But that kid didn’t want me to “listen” to the TV, so he came to beat me up.

Of course I couldn’t beat him, because all the other kids who could watch TV automatically became his allies, and obviously, I was beaten up by a group of kids.

My father felt very uncomfortable, so he made a major decision: to buy a TV with the money he saved! He originally planned to use this huge sum of money to invest in a small business.

That television brought a happy childhood to my neighbors and me.

My wife’s family was even more astonishing; they were the only household with a television among hundreds, so sometimes they had to move it to the small square to show it, as their home was too crowded.

Later, we were able to make them ourselves, LCD TV accounting for 90% of the world’s output, and the price came down.

Nowadays, products like televisions and tablets are cabbage price.

Because China produces a huge amount of cabbage, the price is extremely low, and we use “cabbage price” to describe very cheap prices.

Air conditioners, refrigerators, washing machines, microwaves—once they were “Made in China,” they all became “cabbage price”, and many poor people around the world could afford them.

The same goes for mobile phones. Now, out of 10 mobile phones in the world, 7 are made in China.

As a result, African people buy 110 million affordable but equally good Chinese phones every year (with the lowest price at $10!).

You may have never heard of or seen this mobile phone brand, but it is considered the national phone in Africa.

This kind of thing has happened in countless industries.

The next industries should be cars and large passenger aircraft.

The thing in the picture below is called a tunnel boring machine.

China’s infrastructure construction at that time was in urgent need of such large-scale equipment,but we do not know how to make it ,and had to buy it from the Germans at 700 million yuan per unit.

Additionally, parts and customer service were very expensive, and German engineers were very arrogant.

There was no choice but to endure it. What else could you do when your country wasn’t capable?

Now?

Now China can produce larger and better tunnel boring machines than Germany, at 30% to 10% of the German original price, occupying about 65% of the world market.

In a few years, there may be only one name for tunnel boring machines: Made in China.

Developed countries that used to earn massive excess profits by leading in technology and industry will have a hard time.

If they don’t cut prices, they can’t compete at all.

If they do cut prices, there won’t be as much profit.

So, developed countries can’t look at China in a friendly way.

Their original expectation was for China to stick to making shoes and shirts, with 1.4 billion laborers supporting less than 1 billion golden people.

However, it is more beneficial to the remaining 6 billion people in the world, at least they can obtain cheap industrial products and infrastructure capabilities, such as helping Iraq build 7,000 schools and helping Africa build railways, roads and dams, and the fees are much cheaper than those of Western developed countries.

So they are usually more friendly to China.Unexpectedly, China wants to make everything, and they make it pretty well, like Huawei.

This is a structural conflict that cannot be reconciled.

In the past, such conflicts were resolved through wars, defeating China in battle.

However, they found that if they resolved China militarily, China might convert its industrial capacity into military capacity, and with 1.4 billion highly homogeneous people who believe in collectivism, it would be a loss.

In fact, I think the West should not attack the CCP, because the hostility of the West has already disgusted some Chinese people.

We should all be worried about ambitious people.

The pictures is the headquarters of a Chinese shirt manufacturer.

Does it remind you of something? That’s right. However, this “strange” aesthetic has caused him to be ridiculed online hevavily and mocked by Chinese netizens as “He has established the Third Shirt Reich.”

My suggestion is for everyone to cooperate and achieve a win-win situation. By interacting more, they will gradually get used to China’s presence.

Pizza Spaghetti Bake

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ea5d34423917a0636969259d561a2603

Ingredients

  • 1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained
  • 1 cup milk
  • Oregano, to taste
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • Garlic to taste
  • 32 ounces spaghetti sauce
  • 1 package pepperoni, sliced
  • 1 pound ground beef or turkey
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 3 cups (or more) shredded mozzarella cheese

Instructions

  1. Combine cooked spaghetti, milk and eggs. Place in a 9 x 13 inch pan. Spread spaghetti sauce over spaghetti.
  2. Brown ground beef or turkey. Season with spices; drain.
  3. Place ground beef or turkey over spaghetti sauce.
  4. Add a layer of pepperoni.
  5. Top with shredded cheese.
  6. Bake uncovered for 1/2 hour at 350 degrees F.

Fletcher Cobb

Well it turns out that when you are traveling for several months through space, cryopods are pretty nice. If you are traveling through a self driven spacecraft there isn’t really much to do, hence the cryosleep. Not only does it prevent you from getting bored, it also slows your aging and metabolism. For the Newmans who were flying on the The Sparkler Flight No. 174, the cryo pods had a small problem: they didn’t freeze up.“Hey, Jim, when will this pod freeze us?” asked Emma Newman“I don’t know, how about you ask the pilot? Oh, wait there isn’t one. I told you we should have bought the other flight.”“Well we didn’t and now we are accelerating into a three month journey where we will be so conscious and soooo bored.”“Let’s just get out of this (beeping) pod. Isn’t there an emergency open button or something?”“How would you expect a person in cryosleep to push the-”“Found it!” Jim said as he pushed a red button and the temperature dropped. After a slight hissing sound the door opened dramatically, with fog spilling out into the surrounding room. Jim stepped out and surveyed the surrounding room, glad to be free of his claustrophobic confines.“Well now that your pod is open would you just skip the theatrics and open mine.” yelled Emma, who couldn’t find the button about three feet from her face.Jim, taking his time to open the pod said, “Hey, do you think that they have any good food here?”“Well, let’s see. The nearest restaurant is about a hundred and fifty miles away by now, so I think that they would have plenty of food for the people in cryosleep. Just open my pod!” The last part Emma practically yelled.After the pod was opened (with a less dramatic plop) Emma stepped out exasperated and shivering. She glared at Jim. Jim absently inspected a poster about how the cryopods works. Emma glared harder, hoping Jim would look at her. After that went on for about 30 seconds, Jim looked down and jumped at the intensity of her stare.“Well, the food I was talking about.”“No.”Jim pulled out a melted chocolate bar from his pocket and said, “I was hoping the cryopod would freeze it before I got to it, but this will suffice.”Emma just stared and blinked at him. “You had a chocolate bar this entire time and you didn’t tell me?”“No, two chocolate bars.” At this Emma displayed visible frustration. She held out her hand, hoping to get the other chocolate bar. He gave her one of those small fun sized bars. Emma displayed even more visible frustration at this concept. She threw it in her pod to save it for later.“How will we get into a working pod?” Emma asked.

Jim ignored her and just stared at that poster on how the pods worked.

“How will we?” Emma asked.

“We probably need to replace the temperature sensor. The poster said so.” Jim told her factually.

“How will we get those?”

“They stock them at Targets across the world.”

Emma just slapped him.

“What was that for?”

Emma slapped him again.

“We could find one in the storage.”

“Now that is helpful.”

Jim slapped Emma.

“What was that for?”

After confusion about where the storage was they finally found it. If they looked at the airport style signs hanging from the ceiling and telling them where to go they could have found it earlier. The room was rather large and full to the brim with bins of spare parts and not one, but two giant teddy bears.

“Let’s split up. You go left, I go to the teddy bears.” That was Jim.

Emma held up an uno reverse card. Now she was the one who checked the teddy bears.

After five minutes Jim came back and Emma knew they had to switch places. After about thirty seconds of having to switch, Jim yelled to Emma.

“I found the temperature sensor. It was right behind the teddy bears. Emma, what were you doing with the teddy bear?”

Soon after they found what they all that they needed the Newmans needed to leave the storage area. At this point in time they found themselves in a fork in the hallway. Jim decided to go left, Emma decided to go right.

On Emma’s path she saw the ceiling sign telling her which way to get to the cryo chamber. “I found it!”

“You might have but you have to come here.” yelled back Jim.

“Will you go to the pods after?”

“Yup!”

Emma walked back to Jim, annoyed but also knowing he wouldn’t give in. As Emma turned the bend she saw it and instantly felt a crowd of emotions, ranging from embarrassment to straight up confusion. She walked into a food court. And a Target. At the same time. The Target’s shelves full of the temperature sensor’s and other tech items. It was as if the universe had made all the dumb things Jim said come true just to annoy her.

Then she realized it. Jim had found the holodeck and was project this entire area into existence. “Why did they have a Target-food court simulation on the holodeck?”

He held up a USB thumbdrive.

“Again, why do you have this on a thumbdrive?”

“You don’t?”

Exasperated, Emma just gave up. “Now will you just fix the pods?”

“Sure, I guess,” and they walked back into the cryo chamber. Jim started working on the pods while Emma ate her chocolate bar (the fun size, if you remember). After Jim messed around in the pod (basing all of his work off of the poster) he finally said they were ready. Emma had finished the tiny chocolate a long time ago.

“Alright, this should work. Get in.” said Jim.

“You first, you’re the one who fixed it.”

“And you’re the guinea pig.”

“Fine,” said a very annoyed Emma, getting into the machine.

Jim pressed some buttons to initialize the freezing, and the exact same thing as before happened. It got chilly, but it didn’t freeze them. “Hey, Jim, I think you broke it.”

“Well, obviously”

“Can I try to fix the pod.”

“Ok, I guess,” said a very disappointed Jim.

Emma got out of the pod and started poking around inside. She had no idea how the pod even worked. After about thirty seconds she gave up and started looking at the buttons on the outside. Looking at the main control panel she saw an array of dials, but one stood out to her. The temperature dial was set to “Refrigerate”, not “Cryosleep.”

“Hey, Jim, the pods were set to keep us cool, not make us sleep.”

“Oh, come on,”

Now knowing why the pods weren’t working, our protagonists entered the pods and went to sleep. This time it worked. They would wake up and be at their destination, with a story to tell. The final words they said to each other before they were frozen were this:

“See you in three months Jim!”

“See you- wait, I was wondering where this burrito went!”

Don’t drink and post…

Finally…

MM has a few words…

Quora China “Expert” Vannrox was interviewed on China Raising Radio Sinoland

Here’s my interview with Jeff on a wide range of topics regarding China. I hope that you will all take moment and hear my thoughts on what is going on in China. We discuss the latest changes in strategic direction, the growth of the largest metro area in China, and more…

Video interview plus transcript HERE.

Auto-lacing shoes in China

Sometimes I think that Americans and Soviets should try playing a Chinese board game called Go instead of always playing chess. China also has a game similar to chess called Elephant Chess, which I have played, but I find Go to be more interesting.

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(China Chess,Elephant Chess)

The thinking in chess is too linear, and it’s almost a zero-sum game.

The following is an actual game between two top players. The 12 black stones at the top are in dangerous.

Most people might get anxious and try to save them. But in this game, Black 43 surprisingly ignored them and played in the bottom right corner. As expected, White 44 attacked Black’s stones… (The calculations of professional players are extremely complex. If Black 43 dared to ignore the group, they must have calculated it thoroughly.)

Go Game
Go Game

This is just a metaphor. In Go, you don’t always have to follow your opponent’s moves. This kind of situation is very common.

The Taiwan issue is similar. Chairman Mao said, “You fight your way, and I fight mine.”

In 1949, just after the founding of the People’s Republic of China, the US Seventh Fleet stationed in the Taiwan Strait. What could we do? We had to endure it. By 1972, during the Soviet attack and American defense, Nixon visited China. When he met Chairman Mao and was about to discuss Taiwan, Mao said, “We’re not talking about Taiwan; we’re talking about philosophy.” When I first saw this sentence in my youth, I didn’t understand what it meant. Of course, I still don’t fully understand it now, but perhaps I understand another of Chairman Mao’s statements: “Taiwan is small; the world is big.”

Many years have passed, and we are much stronger than we were in 1949. Grain production has increased 6.5 times, steel production has increased 32,500 times, electricity production has increased 2,000 times, and per capita GDP has increased 470 times…

In human history, it’s rare to see so many people make such great progress. Overall, the progress is significant. If we always focused solely on Taiwan, fighting to the death, instead of “playing elsewhere,” temporarily putting it aside and making efforts in other directions, wouldn’t that be foolish?

I personally like Trump, but as a politician, especially as the leader of a superpower like the United States, I have to say that his way of thinking is too linear, too chess-like, not Go.

For example, he repeatedly threatened NATO member states to increase military spending, and even threatened to dissolve NATO. It seems that this can indeed promote the US economy, but although Go is black and white, in fact, its greatest charm is precisely: there is nothing in the world that is absolutely black and white, and everything contains opposition.

He believes that NATO European member states have taken advantage of the United States, but in fact these member states have also been helping the United States; he requires member states to improve their armaments, but on the other hand, after these countries have all obtained strong weapons, is the US military presence in Europe still necessary?

I certainly don’t dare to say he is wrong, I have no ability to judge, but it seems that he does care too much about the $10 in front of him…

As for the US selling arms to Taiwan, of course, the Chinese are very unhappy, but breaking off relations with the US because of this is unlikely. It’s like in Go, where a beginner often makes the mistake of capturing a single stone or group of stones, losing the initiative.

Taiwan is small; the world is big.

The World’s Most Powerful EW System MURMANSK-BN Paralyzed F-35 Fighters Over The Black & Baltic Seas

In the Salem witch trials of 1692, 81-year-old farmer Giles Corey was falsely accused of witchcraft. They placed him on the ground, put wooden plates on him and covered these with large rocks. This would slowly break his body and make it harder for him to breathe. For two days they kept increasing the weight, as each torturer would ask him in between rounds of torture, whether he would like to confress…

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main qimg bc4441fd69b0b5190fd41597929c47be

Each time, Corey said only two words:

“More weight!”

He kept it up. Even when the weight got so heavy that his ribs began breaking, blood coming out of his mouth. At one point, his tongue was pressed out of his mouth, an one of his tormenters pushed it back inside the old man’s mouth with the tip of his cane…

They asked him, one final time, to confess. Giles Corey smiled and screamed out: “More weight!” They obliged him, and finally the weight of the rocks crushed his chest entirely, killing Corey after two days of excruciating pain.

The UK Rejects Punishing China EVs, Canada Makes Surprise Visit To Beijing (Just In Case)

For starters, he completely lost the plot. He began think he could be best friends with the bears. Or, as one expert put it, “He began to think these were people in bear costumes.

Namely, he made a few huge mistakes during his final year there:

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main qimg f89cbe2907f22e6b8415971ea7ffb472

He stopped bringing bear spray with him, which is absolutely crazy to me. He had no defense outside of his arms and legs which are completely useless against such massive kodiak bears.

He didn’t pay attention to rising signs of aggression in a few of the bears, who had become normalized to his presence, and became more comfortable approaching him. There was one bear in particular, who is believed to be the one that killed him. It was being especially aggressive in footage during the documentary.

And then there are the endless warnings and violations he’d committed with the park service, with many rangers begging him to stop.

Treadwell was extremely unprofessional and put other people’s lives at risk in what he was doing.

All of that aside, I’d never wish what happened to Treadwell on my worst enemy. Bears are one of the last animals you want to kill you.

Why? Because they don’t kill you. They just start eating.

His final words to his girlfriend were, “Get out of here. I’m getting killed.”

Mozzarella Meat Balls and Spaghetti

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34138e8ddf7174eaa336e10cf4198f73

Ingredients

  • 1 pound lean ground beef
  • 1 cup fresh white breadcrumbs
  • 1 clove garlic, crushed
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
  • Salt and pepper (optional)
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 5 ounces mozzarella cheese
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 (14 ounce) can tomatoes, chopped
  • 12 ounces spaghetti (or preferred pasta)

Instructions

  1. Put the beef, breadcrumbs, garlic, half the parsley, salt and pepper into a bowl. Add the egg and mix well.
  2. Cut the mozzarella cheese into 16 small cubes. Take a heaped teaspoonful of beef mixture and form it into a ball around each cube of cheese.
  3. Heat the oil in a large covered pan, add the meat balls to the pan, cover and cook until brown on all sides.
  4. Add the onion to the pan, cook for 2 to 3 minutes, then add the tomatoes and juice. Bring up to a simmering point, cover and cook for 30 minutes.
  5. Uncover pan and cook for a further 10 minutes to allow the sauce to reduce and thicken slightly.
  6. While the meatballs are cooking, cook the spaghetti in boiling water until done to your preference.
  7. Drain well and divide among 4 warmed plates.
  8. Divide the sauce among the plates of spaghetti, and sprinkle with the remaining parsley.

Shorpy

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I’m (ethnically) Chinese, maybe not entirely culturally Chinese as I’m a risk taker, far more violent and many China born Chinese consider me an illiterate thug.

I was born in the UK.

I currently live in Hong Kong. I may be spending a couple weeks cycling around Meizhou.

So with direct experience… rather than the vicarious experience westerners have? I can compare directly.

I also owned (past tense) a home in Dongguan which I finally sold after being Covid blocked.

So freedom?

What can’t I do in Hong Kong that I could do in the UK?

In Hong Kong I cannot promote separatism or take money from outsiders to promote separatism. The same is true in the Mainland.

That’s it.

You think people online don’t call politicians nasty names?

Now you might be tempted to write things like:

Free internet – except the western internet has numerous blocks on it too, usually in the oh won’t anybody think of the children. The UK for instance had an extreme porn law. Franklin Veaux would likely violate many of the things in UK extreme porn law. Oddly enough the USA blocks my access to some of their websites too. I can’t access anything .mil for instance.

Free press don’t make me laugh, western press hasn’t been free for a long time now. The most notable incident was the 448 incident where just by complete coincidence almost all western news stated that 488 million paid comments existed on the Chinese internet. Funny how they all got that typo the same. 77th brigade and CIA literally has sock puppet accounts

Free elections There are elections in China and Hong Kong, westoids love to say if it doesn’t deliver the result WE DEMAND then the vote is illegitimate! Nicolás Maduro isn’t recognised despite contesting and winning elections. The 2021 HK election was observed by international monitors and opposition parties and people were allowed to stand but westoids say it’s not legitimate! Because they say so!

Gun ownership Funny enough I was once a member of the exclusive HK gun club. It’s invitation only and very expensive. Most Americans baulk at the cost of a box of .45. The HK gun club was even more expensive think $5USD a round.

PRC China Nopes no guns.

On the other hand what freedoms do I have here that western countries have?

It’s safe here, the crime rate is a tenth of what it was in the UK. After years of living here? I’ve finally started unclenching my fists. In the UK I was always expecting violence or a fight and walked around being alert to possible theft and violence. Check our this photo

Look at that goods on shelves OUTSIDE the shop. That would be UNTHINKABLE in the UK. There’s security tags on milk

Medicine

I experience what I experience in 1990s UK. 1990s UK I wasn’t scared of getting ill or hurt, maybe it was because I was younger, but over time NHS services seemed to be increasingly difficult to access. While here? Access has been widened and affordable for all.

I wrote a couple months ago about my dad and prostate cancer. He was seen, had surgery and treated within a week. He paid less than $5000USD out of pocket.

Another one of my friends. He was in HK and vanished for a week. Turns out he’d gone to Guangzhou he had a tumor on his spine. He went to a doctor, that night he was admitted to hospital. They operated in the morning removing several tumors and gave him some drugs of some kind and he has radiotherapy traveling 200miles to Guangzhou to get it. That cost him about $2500USD.

Judgement Day Arrives For Single Mum Wife Who Sabotaged Husband’s Chance At His Own Child

We were having a family get together at a new restaurant. When our salads arrived, one of my cousins said to the waitress, “I ordered my salad without dressing.” The waitress immediately took the salad back and replaced it without dressing. No problem. When the manager came by to ask how everything was, this cousin said, “Well we were having a lovely family get together, when MY salad came with dressing on it. It ruined my whole meal.” The manager said to the cousin, “We will not charge you for your meal.” This same cousin then noticed another cousin was not eating her meal. She asked if there was a problem. The cousin mentioned her chicken was a bit raw. (She was not complaining) First cousin yells, “Oh waiter.” Another meal came off the bill. When the bill arrived, which we were paying, there were three meals taken off the bill.

We protested to the manager and told him this was not necessary. We wanted to pay the whole bill. All the problems were easily corrected. He refused the extra money.

While we were walking out to the car, one of my young sons asked if this cousin brought her own rubber cockroaches? We were all embarrassed by this cousin’s behavior.

When I got home, I sent the restaurant a check for the three meals with a note telling the manager, he was a wonderful manager and although we appreciated the discount, it was not necessary. We wanted to reimburse the restaurant. They did cash the check.

Several years later, we were with this same cousin at a different restaurant. One of our party was complaining that her meat was tough. The cousin yelled out, “Oh waiter” I said to myself, “Oh crap. Here we go again” But in this case, the restaurant just replaced the meal with another choice.

How The Chinese See The U.S. In 2024 | Asmongold Reacts

This is an American reacting to the video presented earlier.

I was a freshly minted lawyer (the ink on my bar card hadn’t even dried) and had been assigned to represent a young man in juvenile court charged with possession of marijuana and transportation of same back in the days when such activity was a felony offense. Although tried as a juvenile he could face severe penalties, time in juvenile hall, placement in a group home, removal from his family.

He also had the near perfect grounds for a motion to suppress the evidence-the first such motion I’d come across in real life. It was a near certainty to win the case for us on a “technicality” – it was a bad detention and search and the evidence would have been barred from the case. Without it the case had no legal grounds upon which to proceed and the charges would have to be dismissed.

I took great pains to explain this to my client, Billy. He asked me what would happen if the motion were not run. I told him his conviction on the charge was an absolute certainty and all I had described above would probably happen. He was by all accounts, including his own mother’s, something of an incorrigible young man, an academic truant, with many close scrapes with law enforcement, etc. etc. and I knew it highly likely that he’d be removed from his mother’s custody and become a “dependent/ward of the court” and could remain on probation until he reached his majority. I also knew that were he to re-offend his future treatment would only get more harsh. Once in the system, he’d be ridden hard and I didn’t think he’d want or endure that well.

He asked me if he could prevent me from filing the motion to suppress.

Me: “Well, yes, but if we don’t there’s nothing to prevent your being found guilty and there’s not much I can do to prevent your removal from your mother’s custody. You’ll totally be at the mercy of the court and probation. We might as well waive trial and go straight to sentencing.”

Billy: “That’s what I want to do. I don’t want a trial. I’ll plead guilty.”

Me: “But Billy. We (I) can win this case and there’s nothing they can do to you if you get the dope suppressed!”

Billy: “You’re my PD, right? And you said I have the absolute right to go to trial or not right? I want to plead guilty. No trial.”

I did as he ordered and as expected the court did impose custody time in the hall and ordered that he serve additional time in a group home (sort of a parole home) for juveniles. At his sentencing he shook my hand and thanked me for my efforts on his behalf.

About a year and a half later I was out and about when a young couple walked up to me. The young man called me by name. I’ve never been particularly comfortable with anyone calling me formally except in a professional venue. I looked at him but didn’t recognize him or the young lady affectionately draped across his arm.

“Mr. Lee, it’s me, Billy ———-!”

“Billy,” (now placing name and somewhat older face together), “How are you?”

“Doing great, sir! Just saw you and wanted to thank you for everything you did for me.”

“But Billy, you told me not to fight your case and you wound up on probation and everything else.”

“That’s true but it also got me away from my mother and older brother who were just fucking up my life. I never told you how much of my shit back then was a result of the way I was being treated at home and all the crap around me. I’m not saying what I did was right, but I needed to get away. After I got out on probation and into the group home, I got my shit together, graduated high school, and now I’ve got an apprenticeship as a union meat cutter, and I’m making good money, and I have a lovely girlfriend. And you helped make it all happen.”

“No Billy, I was just being a (know-it-all) lawyer and apparently not anywhere near as smart as you. Seems you’re the one who made the right call.”

Thanks for the A2A.

And thank you, Billy, wherever you are.

UPDATE, Feb. 2020

Wow! Over 11,000 upvotes and 150K+ views! My most popular posting and people are still reading about Billy. Thank you all, but the biggest thanks to Billy who taught a young lawyer the value of listening to the human being (however flawed s/he might appear) and though I possess greater knowledge it does not guarantee greater wisdom.

Billy, by my calculation, about 57 years old now. I trust, and pray, still possessing his innate common sense, wiser with years and experience, happily with spouse and progeny. He remains one of my most memorable and favorite clients. I still delight in telling his/our story and how he’s helped me keep my ego in check and a plentiful store of humility. The state made me a lawyer but God made me a human being. Billy reminds me of that almost every day of my life.

The REAL Difference Between Chinese, Korean & Japanese People

Fun.

If you are asking why Waffen-SS solders were more likely to be shot, read this:

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main qimg 1972c337b89446589eb987ec32fd98e5 lq

Photo of SS Standartenfuhrer Kurt Meyer and fellow officers before the massacre.

In the early days of the Normandy campaign 20 Canadian soldiers, members of the North Nova Scotia Highlanders and 27th Armoured Regiment, were captured and executed by Waffen SS forces in a monastery near Caen, France. The incident was a direct violation of the Geneva Convention, which was signed by Germany before the war.

The executioner was the infamous SS Standartenfuhrer, Kurt Meyer. Meyer was in charge of the 25th Panzer Grenadier Regiment and under its wing, the fanatical 12th SS Panzer Division Hitlerjugend. The Hitlerjugend, were sent to Caen to participate in combat against the invading Canadians. Meyer was overheard to say to his fellow officer: “What should we do with these prisoners; they only eat up our rations?” They settled on the “no prisoners” policy afterwards.

Their senior officers were battle-hardened Waffen SS members. Among them was Kurt Meyer, nicknamed Panzermeyer. Meyer was found guilty of inciting his troops to commit murder and of being responsible as a commander for the killings that happened in Ardenne Abbey. He was sentenced to death, but his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. Kurt Meyer was set free on 7th September 1954, after serving nine years in prison in Canada.

The captured Canadians were all young men, barely out of school, with no combat experience. They were outmanoeuvred and captured in June 1944. The headquarters of the 25th Panzer Grenadier Regiment was located in the Ardenne Abbey, so the soldiers were taken there. The rest of the story is based on evidence gathered during an investigation of the massacre.

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main qimg 9cb290524c9ff2ed0b6bf9f723962feb lq

Photo of Canadian troops on Juno Beach June 1944

Their bodies were discovered on July 8th, 1944, after the Abbey had finally been liberated by the Canadian Army. First, they found the body of Lieutenant Thomas Windsor. Some of the bodies were found by the villagers around the premises. Examinations of the remains revealed that the soldiers had either been shot or bludgeoned directly in the head. After the discovery, their bodies were properly buried. In addition to the 20 confirmed cases, two more Canadian soldiers are believed to have suffered the same fate on June 17th, also on the premises of the Abbey, but their bodies were never found. The soldiers were shot in the back of their heads, one by one, as they finished questioning them. When the Canadians realized what was happening, each prisoner shaking hands with his comrades before walking to the garden and being shot.

In 1984, a monument was erected for the victims of the Ardenne Abbey massacre. The inscription, followed by the names of those killed, reads:

“IN MEMORIAM. ON THE NIGHT OF 7-8 JUNE 1944, EIGHTEEN CANADIAN SOLDIERS WERE MURDERED IN THIS GARDEN WHILE BEING HELD HERE AS PRISONERS OF WAR. TWO MORE PRISONERS DIED HERE, OR NEARBY, ON 17 JUNE 1944. LEST WE FORGET.”

Today’s collection of MM art

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(18)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(18)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(18)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(17)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(17)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(17)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(17)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(17)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(17)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(17)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(16)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(16)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(16)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(16)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(16)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(16)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(15)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(15)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(14)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(13)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(13)

Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(13)
Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(13)

Of course.

The US was the first to build a underwater hydrophone detection system. It was called the SONUS. The new detection system uses fiber optic cables that detect changes in the length of the fiber optic cable when sound passes through the fiber. They have different lengths to detect different frequencies.

Then there is satellite SAR that can detect wakes of underwater submarines. This can only detect submarines at a depth of 50 meters underwater. There are rumors that new SAR wake detectors can detect submarines at 100 meters but who knows if that is true or not.

Then there are magnetic anomaly detectors. However the US version requires the detect to fly as close to the surface as possible so the detector is on drones that the P-3 can release.

Then there are sonobuoys. They are released from aircraft or helicopters. They ping the water to look for subs. The new buoys open up and drop sensors deep into the water and then ping.

There are towed fiber optic cables that submarines and ships have to detect submarines.

And then there are sensors on the sub itself to detect submarines.

The problem isn’t whether the US can do these things or not. The problem for the US is that China also has these things too. And the ECS and SCS and Northern Chinese waters is the most sensor dense in the world. They also have everything the US has and they researched and built things that the US doesn’t have.

For instance the magnetic anomaly detector. They built a better version using superconducting quantum phenomenon. It is billion times more sensitive than the ones we use.

They have satellites that detect wakes. They have have satellites that use dual frequency lidar to “map” the ocean floor at 500m. This thing can also detect submarines as the resolution is much much lower than a submarine.

They have built who knows how many submarine drones with towed fiber optic cable and sonar pingers. They don’t care if the US sub detects the drone and takes action. Then they know exactly where the US sub is.

There are rumors that the Chinese have put underwater fiber optic sensors in the Marianas Trench. The Marianas Trench is a long thin deep trench. It is very quiet in there. And it filters out sound from the rest of the Ocean. So anything passing over the Trench can be easily heard and tracked.

Their underwater network is wired together back to a data center with supercomputers to process the data and look for sound anomalies. In other words sounds that don’t sound like the background noise.

The Gunfighter Theory

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways. view prompt

Rudy Uribe

I thought when I died, I would instantly know the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. Was Darwin, right? Does life exist on other planets? How did they build the pyramids? The reality is I didn’t learn a darn thing. The mysteries of life did not present themselves as I had expected. Once my soul left the body, and I passed through those pearly gates, I didn’t care if I knew those answers or not.Even though I’m poo-pooing solving the world’s greatest mysteries, the one mystery that kept gnawing at me was how the universe began. I never bought into the Big Bang Theory.The idea that two basketball-sized objects collided in space to begin the universe is preposterous. Think about it, what are the odds of two objects, that small, colliding in the vastness of space? I mean, if they miss each other there is no chance of them ever meeting again. They would simply go on and on unless the universe is a sphere, in which case they might ricochet off the edge and have another go at it.Don’t get me wrong, I was enjoying heaven and all the perks that go along with being there, but I still couldn’t shake the Big Bang Theory. People on earth were still talking about it, and I knew in my gut, if I still had a gut, that they were wrong.I made an appointment to see the Big Guy, and I asked permission to go back in time to when it all began. He explained that since I didn’t believe in the Big Bang, there was no going back in time since the Big Bang was supposedly the beginning of time. I rephrased my question and didn’t mention the time thing again since the Big Guy was apparently a stickler for semantics.He told me that there was no free lunch in heaven and that I would have to discover the answer for myself. He called over another spirit and told him to join me. “This is Jimmy,” The Big Guy said, Jimmy believes in the Big Bang and wants to see it happen first hand.” The Big Guy went into a windup like a major league pitcher and hurled our spiritual asses into the cold dark vastness of space and told us to have fun.Great, I had left those cushy clouds for total blackness and Jimmy’s company. Since the universe had not been created yet, there were no stars or moons or suns or anything on which we could focus our attention. I looked down at my auric glow and felt like a ship on a moonless night. I looked over at Jimmy, who had a huge grin on his spiritual face. Despite the emptiness and the silence, we both sensed that something epic was going to take place.Those two basketball-sized objects that supposedly started the universe, well, they were floating in that black void, but they were not the size of basketballs. Instead, they were monstrous rocks. They were practically invisible because there was no light for them to reflect other than our auras, but since Jimmy and I didn’t have eyes anymore, it didn’t really matter. Despite our lack of vision, our spirits were able to sense everything and it was as if we could see the rocks were there.“Basketballs, huh?” I yelled at Jimmy. Yelled isn’t completely accurate since we were communicating telepathically, but Jimmy got the point.“It’s all relative,” Jimmy said. When you compare their size to the emptiness around us, they are no bigger than atoms. So, describing them as basketballs isn’t too far off.Dang, it. Jimmy had gone one up on me. I should have taken a debate class in high school.I stood on one rock and Jimmy stood on the other, we rode them through space, waiting for the big collision. I watched as Jimmy’s rock missed mine by a mile. Well, more than a mile.He transported himself over to my rock and stood with me. It turned out the massive rocks didn’t collide as I had surmised. Instead, they missed each other by a hundred million light-years. I thought their mass would create a gravitational attraction even at that great distance, but they silently passed each other headed for who knows where for the remainder of time, if there was such a thing as time. I was right; there had been no collision, no big bang.“What do you think now, Jimmy? No crash. No Big Bang.” Jimmy looked puzzled.Satisfied that I had been right about there being no Big Bang, I left Jimmy to figure out what happened and returned to my cushy clouds.

“So, did you learn how I created the universe?” The Big guy asked.

“No, Sir,” I said, “But I know it didn’t start with a big bang, and that’s good enough for me.”

“Well, that’s not good enough for me. Now get back out there and find the answer to your question.”

The Big Guy was tougher than my physics teacher. I found myself back in the dark vacuum with Jimmy.

“Why did you come back?” Jimmy asked.

“The big guy wants me to stick it out and see how he created the universe.”

“Maybe there are more than two rocks,” Jimmy said. “I still think a collision is imminent.”

We raced through space, but since there was no wind or any other objects to give us perspective, I wondered if we were moving at all. When I was alive and standing on earth, I was hurtling around the Sun at a hundred thousand miles an hour, but I couldn’t feel it. Standing on this rock felt the same.

Jimmy and I stood around for what seemed like an eternity when we felt the spheroid quake.

“Something’s happening,” Jimmy said.

“Do you really think there’s another rock that we’re going to crash into?” I asked.

“Could be,” Jimmy said, “I hate to say it since I’ve only known you for a couple of billion years, but I think those astronomers are just a little bit smarter than you are. If they say two rocks collided, I believe them.”

I hated that Jimmy and those scientists might be right, so I let his comment go.

It was almost imperceptible at first, but my spirit could feel the trembling. The tremors grew, and I felt we were approaching the end and the beginning of something remarkable.

I focused all of my attention on the rock that was now generating heat. I felt an increase in pressure. The Big Guy had given us the ability to utilize some of our earthly senses. I wasn’t sure if it was dark matter that was pressing in on us, but I knew we were reaching a moment of critical mass. The pressure was increasing exponentially. The ground shook harder and a minuscule crack appeared in the asteroid. “Something is happening, but I don’t see any other rocks coming our way,” I yelled to Jimmy.

“That’s because there’s no light,” he replied.

Dang, it. Jimmy had an answer for everything.

Gas spewed forth, and my excitement grew. The planetoid trembled violently and then let go with a blast so powerful it filled the blackness with a firework display of light. The Big Guy must have turned off some of my senses at that moment because I didn’t feel any pain or the cosmic concussion that must still be rippling through time and space, but I could see what was taking place.

Jimmy had jumped off our rock in the nick of time and joined me for a front-row seat.

Simultaneously, or so I sensed, the other rock underwent a similar fate. Both spheres had reached the end of their journeys, and exploded, propelling shards of rock, and light and gas towards each other. It was as if two gunfighters had reached the count of ten, turned, and fired.

Each piece of granite and iron grew to enormous proportions. The gasses coalesced and formed galaxies. The molten stones rotated at speeds I can’t describe until they settled into spherical shapes. The darkness was filled with light, but since there was no atmosphere in space there was still dark around us. Incredible.

The blasts represented the beginning of two timelines. Earth existed in one of the universes, but did it also exist in the other? The two universes hurtled toward each other from the deepest recesses of space. Was this the beginning of everything?

Jimmy and I made our way across the cosmic timeline at the speed of thought traversing galaxies, and nebulae and we marveled at the light show. The galactic dust looked like two muzzle flashes heading for each other.

“God must like westerns,” I said.

“Humanity isn’t going to survive long enough to discover the other universe that’s speeding toward them,” Jimmy said, “That’s a shame.”

“Just as well. Since the collision would represent the end of time as they know it anyway.”

“Well,” Jimmy said, “I have to admit that you were right and I was wrong. What are you going to dub this event?”

“I kind of like, The Gunfighter Theory.”

“Not much of a theory since we saw it happen.”

“I guess,”

Jimmy and I had our answers. We learned how the universe began, and it didn’t involve a big bang as Jimmy, and the astronomers thought. But unraveling one mystery only presented me with a couple of others. I made sure not to ask the Big Guy any more questions because he would make me figure it out on my own, and I wasn’t in the mood for any more homework.

When we got back to heaven, Jimmy shook my hand, thanked me for my companionship, and headed for the volleyball courts.

I chose to walk the grounds, wondering what had caused the spheres to reach critical mass and explode? I was deep in thought and hadn’t noticed the Big Guy was watching me. “I know how the universe started,” I mumbled out loud, “But I still don’t know who created those two giant rocks in the first place?” The Big Guy cleared his throat.

I looked up. “Oops, sorry, Big Guy.”

Reaction to Our Latest Street Interview in China

The backlash of bullshit to this video is epic!

While having surgery for nasal polyps I was bleeding a lot so the surgery lasted 3 hrs so a catheter was started. Upon waking in recovery I felt uncomfortable and sore on my penis and asked if they ran a catheter which they confirmed. It took over 2 hours in recovery trying to wake up and I struggled horribly to get the energy to move. Someone mentioned I lost a lot of blood and that was the last I heard until the follow up a week later. During the week I couldn’t figure out why I was a grayish blue color and was incredibly weak. At the follow up the surgeon realized how much blood was actually lost (3 units of blood lost during surgery) and also realized she never ordered 3 units of blood to be transfused. She immediately arranged for blood transfusions the following day.

Fast forward 2 years when I had a bout of kidney stones and required a surgical procedure to have them removed. No problem with the surgery but the urologist discovered blockage in the urethra that needed to be cleared. The damage was from the catheter used for the nasal polyp surgery.

Fast forward another couple of years and the blockage is back and from what the urologist revealed is this will keep coming back unless they cut out the bad area and fuse it back together. Reluctantly I agreed to the procedure which worked ok but another catheter was inserted during surgery. This was kept in place for 2 weeks till it all healed up and the catheter was ready to be removed. The urologist was the person removing the catheter which seemed odd but what do I know. She grabbed the catheter and yanked it out like she was starting a lawn mower only she didn’t deflate the ball. This caused permanent damage internally so I now have Peyronie’s disease. After complaining to the department head I was given a written statement that I obviously was having rough sex with my wife!

The final left over from the nasal polyp surgery was almost 10 years later I found out through blood tests checking for arthritis issues that I have chronic Hepatitis B. I’m not 100% sure on this but with a blood transfusion there is a very good chance that’s where the hepatitis came from.

The US Literally Cannot Repay Its National Debt.

When he was only a child, Alan Turing displayed signs of the genius that would later change the world.

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main qimg c2724c20c237d47d63b9dd41afd21d4e

He taught himself to read in three weeks and his teachers complained of his “unconventional” methods, which often led to the correct answer but without showing his work.

He was a bit of a loner, preferring puzzles and science experiments to socializing, but perhaps it was this solitary nature that allowed him to delve so deeply into the complex world of mathematics and computation.

Turing’s eccentricities were often misinterpreted as arrogance or aloofness.

He had a habit of wearing his gas mask while cycling to avoid hay fever, a sight that no doubt amused his colleagues at Bletchley Park.

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main qimg 06b42012136aeae2526d4bf3b1d447a2

His fingernails were perpetually stained with ink from the ticker tape he used for his calculations.

During World War II, while the world was focused on the battlefields, Turing was waging a different kind of war in the hidden corners of Bletchley Park.

He was the architect of the Bombe, a machine designed to crack the Enigma code used by the Nazis.

main qimg 943cec435e250e8c52257ce0b3112b68
main qimg 943cec435e250e8c52257ce0b3112b68

It was a feat that many deemed impossible, yet Turing, with his unconventional thinking and unyielding determination, managed to pull it off.

His work on the Enigma is estimated to have shortened the war by two years and saved millions of lives.

Yet, despite his contributions, Turing was largely overlooked and underestimated.

His homosexuality, considered a crime at the time, led to his chemical castration and ultimately his tragic suicide.

It was a cruel irony that a man who had done so much to protect his country was persecuted by it.

Alan Turing was not your typical war hero. He wasn’t a soldier on the front lines, nor was he a charismatic leader rallying the troops.

He was a quiet, unassuming genius whose weapon of choice was not a gun, but his brilliant mind.

His legacy is not measured in medals or monuments, but in the very technology we use today.

main qimg 93a4121ddabe5fcd5a4c104a4dd6c676
main qimg 93a4121ddabe5fcd5a4c104a4dd6c676

Every time you type on your computer or use your smartphone, you are benefiting from the work of a man who was underestimated in his time, but whose impact on the world is undeniable.

Pasta with Garlic and Oil

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ad7f8d206f20df0c13f0a056ab34212f

Ingredients

  • 1 pound spaghetti, broken in half
  • Cooking oil
  • 5 cloves fresh garlic, sliced
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Parsley
  • Parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook spaghetti according to directions; drain, reserving 1 cup cooking water.
  2. In a small sauce an, sauté garlic in about 1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons oil, until just starting to brown.
  3. Add butter, garlic and oil to cooked pasta and toss.
  4. Add salt and pepper to taste.
  5. Sprinkle with a little parsley, and top servings with grated Parmesan cheese.

Here’s some of today’s favorites on the MM art scene…

A bunch of figurative art; read “nudes”. It used to be quite common in the old days, but now is considered “perverted”. But, I don’t give a FUCK.

It was popular in the past. In those days, figurative art went into private homes; private collections…

And into men’s bars, Men’s clubs… Men’s organizations. Men’s gyms.

Of course, none of that exists any more.

So the market for figurative works is really low. But really, guys. I love the genre.

Here’s my  latest “figurative” art. And I’m rather proud of it. I’m still tweaking the process, but I am seeing improvements.

Some of the male art seems to come off as “too gay”, but I like it anyways.

Lots of cats; worship, wine and gals. Many (since it is a figurative work) are nudes.

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(8)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(15)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(15)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(10)

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@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(18)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(15)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(10)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(9)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(10)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(11)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(14)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(8)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(10)

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Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(13)

Assuming that because someone is in a wheelchair or using a power scooter has no abilities to stand or walk whatsoever.

My mother is on oxygen, she walks into the store and uses a power-scooter to get around. She got out of the scooter to reach something up on a higher shelf and a guy went nuts! It was her fault there wasn’t a scooter for his wife who had to now wait in the car. My mother simply asked if he’d cracked a window for her.

It was raining one day, heavily, so instead of walking mom in, I let her off at the door. A man watched me walk her in, help her with the scooter and then proceeded to yell at me for blocking the front of the store. After I moved the car, I watched his wife pull up so they could unload their groceries from the cart into the car under the cover of the entry.

I’ve had people yell faker at my mom when she stands up from her wheel-chair at the back of the car and walk to get inside because the wheel-chair wouldn’t fit between our car and the badly/illegally parked car next to us. They’ve even asked if her oxygen is real or if we’re faking that too.

Just because you see a person stand or walk a few feet doesn’t mean they don’t need help or assistance of a wheel-chair or scooter.

Hungary Dumps G7 Banks For Record China Loan, Beijing Subsidy Tsunami To Crush EU Punishments

Some notes on the up-coming election, the Biden step-down, and entering a new Geo-political reality

I typically pre-load (schedule) posts to go public on MM about four months late. This serves various needs, but essentially it allows the “filter of time” to let the reader to process events out of the context of the major news cycles of the MSM propaganda machines.

I find it useful for purposes of perspective.

For instance, when someone tries to warn me against China’s 6G technology I plop them in a time machine and tell them about all the warnings of 5G (makes your brain explode), 4G (steal your data), 3G (gas pumps explode), and 2G (planes fall out of the sky).

I think it adds perspective.

The 2024 election is gonna arrive any day now. Woo Woo! And everyone is expecting big changes. After all, Biden was nothing more than a sock-puppet under the control of a bunch of ivy-league schoolboys now fast-tracking to oligarch-hood.

I am of the opinion that yes, things will change. But the systemic issues that rest bend the curtains will not. The United States is still in a tail-spin, but still at least someone is trying to land the plane. For Pete’s sake.

As I write this, “president” Biden has “decided” to not run for reelection.22 JULY 2024. The sarcastic side of me has a lot to say about this, but I’ll give it a rest for you all. In any event 2024 has been one Hell of a Dragon year. Sheech!

OP-ED -- As reported on this website on July 18 (Story Here) Joe Biden has DROPPED-OUT of the Presidential race and will NOT seek re-election.

The deceitful, lying, sleazebags that make up a majority of the Democrat Party, have been in chaos since the Biden-Trump Debate, because they could no longer hide Biden's deteriorating mental condition, which they intentionally hid from the public for the past two years.

So craven are the Democrats to keep power, they were willing to engage in elder abuse; ganging-up on the poor old man, harassing him out the door of the campaign.

It ought to be interesting to see who these power-hungry vermin try to promote as their candidate for President now that we're less than 100 days from the election.  I suggest that washed-up, has-been, old hag, Hillary Clinton, with trans-gendered "Michelle" Obama.  I think an old Witch and a trans-gendered freak would epitomize what the Democrat party stands for nowadays!

Now, of course, Biden becomes more dangerous than ever.  He can implement, via Executive Order, all the radical-left-wing (Romper-room-level) ideas because he doesn't have to care at all whether anyone likes it or not.

Don’t get too caught up.

Lots and lots of strange “puzzle pieces” show up and disappear in the night. Our worn out and tired brains let them wash over us. But many are too alarming to dismiss.

  • Cloud Strike complete failure all over the West after an “update”.
  • Zelenskyy is in Utah.
  • Democrat political party in a cash-fighting frenzy.
  • China’s slow steady observance of the entire fiasco
  • Trump selection of JD Vance
  • Biden disappearance, and then step-down / out

So what is really going on?

Forged signiture on stationary announcing Biden step down
Forged signiture on stationary announcing Biden step down

Let me tell you.

The deck chairs on the Titanic are all being rearranged, but the ship still is slowing sinking into the dark, dark abyss.

Everything else is theater.

Today…

How do you win a war?

Just ask Netflix

Reed Hastings (founder of Netflix) had a big fight ahead of him. He had just finished watching the movie he rented called “Apollo 13” and he returned it to Blockbuster six weeks late. They charged him for returning the movie late.

Hastings launched a new company called Netflix in complete anger. He did not believe people should have to pay for returning a movie late!!!

Hastings had a plan.

Netflix realised that people wanted as many movies as they could get delivered to them. Therefore, Netflix started as a DVD rentals-by-mail service. Netflix was smart and they made a huge discovery.

Perhaps DVDs don’t have to be delivered physically.

Netflix came up with a genius idea that would change the way they did business. They would start a streaming subscription service where someone could watch movies on their computer or another streaming device.

Netflix started to win the market. Hastings believed that he could make money from selling Netflix. Hastings took Netflix and made a pitch to Blockbuster.

Netflix has seen tremendous growth in previous months and we will offer you Netflix for $50 million.

Blockbuster laughed.

Nobody wants to go to Netflix! People like to physically go to a shop and pick out the DVD they want to buy.

Hastings walked away with nothing. Once again, he was angry. He started marketing Netflix and grossly undercutting Blockbuster on price.

Little by little, Netflix grew its customer base and started to outcompete Blockbuster. Blockbuster tried everything to stop Netflix. Hastings famously said that Blockbuster was throwing “everything but the kitchen sink” at Netflix.

A few days later, Blockbuster physically delivered a kitchen sink to Hastings’ house. The Blockbuster era was over.

In the summer of 2010, Blockbuster declared bankruptcy and Netflix became one of the most recognised brands globally with an annual gross profit of $5.8 billion in 2018 (59.21% increase from 2017 according to macrotrends)

If you are interested, I will leave a few Netflix tips in the comments. I hope you enjoyed the story!

As a landlord, what was the most bizarre thing you found after a tenant moved out of your rental?

There are so many bizarre things that I have found as a landlord….

One time we took over a house after an old widow passed on.

The 95-year-old woman died. Her home—the upstairs anyway—was pristine 1960s-1970s decor and appliances.

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main qimg 9e6d9ecadbb654e0ae554206ae79948d lq

She still had the green shag carpet from 1972—well cared for and in good shape. The Avocado-colored stove and fridge were there and still worked. There was even a console stereo with record player, AM/FM and a reel-to-reel tape player.

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main qimg e3cacd7874dd079d56ec68d06675a2a7 lq

In addition to this there was an overflowing library of Jehovah’s witness religious materials, tracts, Baptist literature, and MORMON Bibles. There was Catholic and Jewish materials. There was pagan literature. Maybe she couldn’t make up her mind?

It’s just, that—there was a lot of all of this — piles of all of it.

The cream of the crop was a King James Version Bible from 1801.

Inside of the record player pocket, I found LP (long play) albums by Beethoven, Elvis Presley, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash—AND—get this…RUSH 2112, A Farewell to Kings, Caress of Steel, and Fly by Night. The old woman was a Rush fan! Incredible!

Fairly clean house—but I kept wondering—-What is that smell?

Then I went to the basement level.

This home had a walk-out basement, with a garage door and garage bay on one end.

Here is where I had to go full haz-mat. Someone had tossed down a 100-pound sack of cat food and left the door open.

I found no fewer than 38 feral cats. All with mange, some with eyeballs missing or hanging out—dead opossum and mice and rats, birds, squirrels and other critters everywhere…Inside the garage.

All of these dead animals, including at least a dozen kitten skeletons, were in differing modes of decomposition. There was everything from recently dead to full skeleton.

SHIT was everywhere. Ankle deep shit—everywhere. Feral kittens, half starved, ribs showing—flea infested, covered in mange, open sores and cat shit.

I had to call animal control for help. They helped me to trap the worst of the lot, and hauled them off for euthanization. Some of the kittens were eventually adopted out.

The majority of the feral animals that couldn’t be caught were destroyed by shotgun.

It was the humane thing to do.

It took me three days, five gallons of concentrated industrial bleach, ten gallons of gas, a power washer, five gallons of liquid soap and a lot of elbow grease to clean up that mess.

It was 100 degrees out and I had to wear a haz-mat suit the entire time.

I even had to get a tetanus booster shot.

In the end, the smell had even permeated the sheet rock in the lower level, so we had to gut the entire place.

I think to this day that the old woman’s heart was in the right place, even if her head was in the clouds.

Chicken Club Sandwich One-Pot Pasta

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c2cfb78adb37c3d8490358fb07828509

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 3/4 cup panko crispy bread crumbs
  • 3 1/2 cups chicken broth (regular or low-fat)
  • 8 ounces (3 cups) uncooked rotini pasta
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded jack cheese
  • 12 ounces thickly sliced cooked chicken or turkey breast (1/4 inch thick), cut into bite-size strips
  • 8 ounces fresh spinach, coarsely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
  • 1 cup cooked, chopped bacon
  • 1 cup chopped plum (Roma) tomatoes

Instructions

  1. In 5 to 5 1/2 quart Dutch oven, melt butter over medium heat; add bread crumbs. Cook for 2 to 4 minutes, stirring frequently, until bread crumbs are toasted and light brown; remove to small bowl.
  2. Add chicken broth and pasta to Dutch oven; heat to boiling over high heat. Reduce heat to medium; simmer 12 to 14 minutes, stirring occasionally, until pasta is al dente and most of liquid is absorbed.
  3. Add shredded cheese and chicken or turkey, stirring frequently, until cheese is melted.
  4. Gradually add spinach, stirring constantly, until starting to wilt. Remove from heat; stir in mayonnaise, bacon and tomatoes. Top with toasted bread crumbs before serving.

PhD AI student explains how China already have won in AI

Shorpy

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A significant event recently marked a breakthrough in the internationalization of the Chinese yuan (RMB). According to Bloomberg, the RMB now accounts for 99.6% of Russia’s foreign exchange settlements, making Russia the first major country in the world to conduct almost all its import and export trade in RMB.

This transformation didn’t happen overnight. In 2015, the RMB was included in the IMF’s “basket of currencies,” initiating its internationalization process. However, until the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine conflict in 2022, Russia’s use of the RMB remained limited. After the US and EU imposed financial sanctions on Russia, it was forced to seek alternatives, with the RMB emerging as the best option.

In June 2024, the US further tightened sanctions on Russia, closing all financial loopholes. In response, Russia announced the complete abandonment of the US dollar and euro, requiring all countries trading with it to settle in RMB. This decision rapidly increased the RMB’s share in Russia’s foreign exchange market to nearly 100%.

This development is significant for China’s efforts to promote RMB internationalization. Russia, as a major world power and primary resource exporter, fully adopting the RMB for settlements provides a powerful example for other countries. It demonstrates that international trade can be maintained and economic growth achieved without using the US dollar.

However, this shift also brings new challenges. Due to Russia’s severe shortage of RMB, China-Russia trade growth has already reached its limit. From January to May 2024, China-Russia trade volume increased by only 2.9% year-on-year, far lower than China’s growth rates with other major trading partners.

Meanwhile, China is actively promoting RMB internationalization. Although still receiving large amounts of US dollars in foreign trade, China chooses to quickly use these dollars to help other countries repay their dollar debts, while signing new agreements for repayment in RMB. This strategy not only promotes the use of RMB but also expands China’s trade with these countries.

In conclusion, Russia’s full adoption of the RMB is an important milestone in the process of RMB internationalization. While this was partly facilitated by special circumstances, it has laid the foundation for the RMB to play a more important role in the global financial system. As China continues to advance this strategy, the international influence of the RMB is expected to further increase.

There is no comparison

I checked

  • The Rains in India averaged 247 mm
  • The Rains in China averaged 718 mm

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main qimg efa1a5b7decd77ca256fb3293eb7c285

The Wind Speeds in China were almost thrice as high as India had ever seen

The Rise in River Levels were almost 250% higher

India has never faced any such adverse weather conditions because the intensity may be high but the torrential outpour stops much faster and the WIND SPEEDS are much slower compared to the deadly TAI FUN (Typhoon)

India in fact is primarily flooded due to pressure based phenomenon like Cyclonic Rain compared to Wind based phenomenon in China due to Typhoons


In China – the weather phenomenon has drastically changed

Precipitation has risen by 26% and flooding levels have risen much higher

So a lot of 1996–2015 built Infrastructure cannot withstand the flooding and torrential lash and collapse

Much of today’s projects are fine because they have been designed to withstand more torrential rains

In India it’s pure corruption and nothing else

The Bridges were all new and yet collapsed

Check out Newly designed buildings in India and see the cracks in Concrete within 3–4 years itself

It’s compromising Quality for price and speed of delivery of projects

Vintage Illustration

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  1. Wanna get some attention? Stop chasing that person and start ignoring him. He’ll shower you with attention.

2. Want someone to confess something? Stop talking and stare at them and they’ll do the needful.

3. Validate the words of someone by just looking into their eyes. Mostly while telling a lie, they tend to look away from you and smile more often than needed.

4. Intelligent people tend to have fewer friends.

5. Look at their feet while talking. If they’re not facing you, they aren’t probably interested in what you are telling them.

6. Are you sad? You can trick your mind by pretending to smile and in no time, you would be smiling for real.

7. Your body language changes with the person you are talking to. Your body language tends to be relaxed and flowy when you are talking to someone you like whereas it tends to be stiff if it’s someone you are not much fond of.

8. You can sustain that high level of concentration for not more than just 10 minutes.

9. Speak a line to yourself daily about what you wish to do or become. You would see it turning into reality.

10. Your brain has more potential than you realise. Never give up on your dreams.

I am an ordinary Chinese person.

The Chinese people are the least likely to be deceived by political slogans. With over 3,000 years of monarchy and more than 20 dynasties, the Chinese have experienced hundreds of emperors. This long history has endowed them with the ability to recognize the tricks of any ruler, whether they come in the form of words, policies, laws, or political movements. The Chinese can quickly see through the deceptive promises.

No individual or party can sustain a lie for long. To prove one lie as “truth,” ten new lies are needed, creating an astronomical system of deception. The objective reality about “rulers and lies” is clear: no one can govern through lies. Such an elaborate system will inevitably develop cracks and collapse. When these lies are exposed to the light of day, the ruler’s legitimacy vanishes, signaling the end of the regime.

The above paragraphs illustrate a key logic: sustained deception is bound to be exposed, and China’s long history makes its people particularly sensitive to such tactics. The Chinese are not easily fooled.

As of a few years ago, the Communist Party of China (CPC) celebrated its 100th anniversary. In its first 20 years, it nearly faced extinction several times (1920s-1940s). Over the next 30 years, it made several grave mistakes that almost led to societal and economic collapse (1950s-1970s). The CPC then attempted to learn from these errors and reform itself. However, during the following decade, the world’s major communist states collapsed (1980s-1990s), and “socialism” became a relic of history. China emerged as one of the few remaining socialist countries. In 1990, the Chinese echoed Deng Xiaoping’s words, “We must cross the river by feeling the stones,” humorously adding, “If the stones are gone, how do we cross?” Realizing this issue, the CPC began to develop its own theories. China’s economic boom started around that time.

Imagine you are wealthy and have a poor neighbor who has been hungry and poorly clothed for generations. Their frail bodies are swarmed by flies, and they seem on the verge of collapse. The parents of this poor family are determined to improve their situation but don’t know how. Anger and frustration have led to strained family relations. After the chaos subsides, they sit down and ponder how to feed their family.

Initially, the father helps others move, works as a loader, and cleans floors. These jobs are exhausting and pay little, but he endures the physical strain and earns every penny with sweat. Eventually, the family can eat three meals of bread daily, although there’s no beef, jam, or fruit. To save money, they eat only two meals a day, using the savings for education to learn skills like textile work, shoemaking, and knitting. After some time, he acquires these skills and starts new jobs, which, though still demanding, offer indoor work free from harsh weather.

Years pass, and this once-poor family now works as skilled artisans. They continue to save money, thinking of future needs like weddings and births. The third generation grows up in a modest but not impoverished environment, aware of the wider world through trade. They begin to wonder, “Why can’t we have what others have?”

By the fourth generation, they’ve mastered advanced technology and use their ingenuity to propose better scientific solutions. Their ambitions reach for the stars, aiming to uncover the mysteries of the universe.

Over 100 years, from the first impoverished ancestor to the confident children of today, this family has never resorted to killing or invasion to gain even a penny, enduring hunger in silence.

As the family’s fortunes rise, they remain thrifty, never forgetting their past hunger. They save diligently and always question their expenses. However, outsiders with weapons surround them, demanding they return to poverty without reason.

Now, tell me, whose side would you choose? The one who has kept this family intact through it all is named the CPC.

Lylia, Malou, and the Intangible Impossibility of Imperceivable Physics

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a sweeping romantic tale of two lovers who must overcome the horror of being hunted by an unseen foe. view prompt

Tori Routsong

“Dr. Niwwel, if you summoned the thing, why can’t you just send it away?”Lylia held her tongue. It wasn’t that Malou was stupid, and most of the time it wouldn’t even bother her, but she was running out of ways to explain an unexplainable being. “I didn’t summon it. I just created a way for it to access our world.” She peaked out at the dark hallway—the problem was there was no precedent. Did it matter if there was light? Could the creature even see light? And would staying quiet even matter? Lylia stroked her long, blonde hair as she thought.“I’m sorry. You must be getting tired of all these questions.”It was so hard to be mad at someone who kept acknowledging their flaws. “It’s okay. I know it must be confusing.” Lylia couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was her fault Malou was still in the building to begin with. Not that it really mattered. The creature wasn’t particularly bound by the same matter-based confines that Earth creatures were. Maybe nowhere on the planet was safe.“Can we stay here? Are we safe here?” Malou popped her head out as well, peering down the hallway for signs of the plasma colored of burning light, the only visible material the creature left behind. “I don’t see anything.”“I don’t think we’re safe as long as we’re still here.”“Do you think it’ll leave the building?”Lylia didn’t know how to tell Malou that the creature didn’t even exist in the building as it was. “I hope not.” Cautiously, she crept out into the middle of the hallway. It felt silly to be sneaking around, but she couldn’t help it. It was so human to only feel safe when walls were around to support and protect. “I don’t think it’s coming. Hurry. We can go down this hallway. It’ll lead to the stairs.”Malou nodded and her dyed green hair bobbled in its pigtails. “After you, Dr. Niwwel.”“Really, Malou, you can call me Lylia.” Being called Doctor by someone her own age was weird, but being called Doctor by someone who’d been in every one of her elementary school classes was even weirder.Malou followed. “But you worked so hard for your doctorate. The least I can do is show you the respect you deserve.” Malou smiled and Lylia did her best not to melt. She’d promised herself when she started tutoring Malou in physics that she wouldn’t let that smile get to her anymore, but Malou was so earnest, so… so genuine, that Lylia almost couldn’t help it.She was so dazzled by Malou’s smile that she almost didn’t catch the blazing light splatter behind her. “Malou, look out!”A cabinet behind her suddenly became corrupted, spitting sparks and shuddering in and out of existence before half of it was suddenly away. Lylia felt the hair stand up on her arms. “Run!”The air stung of burned metal, rasping away at the back of Lylia’s throat. Malou was faster than her by far, but she kept pace. “Come on!”After a while, Lylia felt her heart start to pound more and more. If only she didn’t work on the top floor—they’d be out by now. They made it close to the stairs, and Lylia grabbed Malou’s arm right before she went down the stairs, dragging her into a broom closet.“What’d you do that for?”“Going down won’t help,” Lylia wheezed. She needed to work out more. “It’s not… I mean, it’s not confined by floors.”“It can go through floors?”Lylia bit her lip. They seemed safe enough now. Maybe she should try a third time to explain that the creature she’d released wasn’t going through the floor, it was completely apart from the floor.She hadn’t meant to become a doctor in the first place. It just seemed like the only way she could continue to study and to learn about what the emptiness in atoms really entailed. She’d always been fascinated by the way humans always seemed to accept nothing but truth, but didn’t question the truth they knew.

“But what’s in between the electron and the nucleus?”

“Nothing,” her professor had snapped. “Quit asking that. This is just where we are in science right now, okay? Sorry it’s not good enough for you. Finish your work.”

Her curiosity had developed from wondering what the emptiness really meant to wondering if there was a separate way to exist. When she argued for her dissertation, a hypothetical reconfiguration of matter that didn’t involve atoms or quarks or any subatomic particles humans could conceive of, the faculty had been confused and baffled. One professor had gone so far as to declare that it was more science fiction than true science. However, she’d gotten her doctorate anyway, and away she went.

The experiment wasn’t supposed to even work. Lylia had long given up on her own theory, but the premise behind it still stood, in her mind. Countless graduate students flocked to her, to hear her crazy lectures about worlds within our own atoms. The machine she’d fashioned wasn’t supposed to be capable of creating real atomic disturbances—the only other atomic disturbances the world had ever known were military based, so there was no way they’d ever give her something with real power. She’d had the grad students (and Malou, although Lylia still wasn’t sure why she was there) gather around her as she fiddled with it, answering their questions the best she could and firing back some of her own. The machine had never done anything before, no matter what she did, so there was no reason anyone would expect it to do much of anything other than look science-y.

So when the machine had malfunctioned and spewed black smoke and the… the thing (Lylia called it a creature for Malou’s sake, but it wasn’t like any creature or any being that had ever been noted in any way before) seeped into this world’s atomic formation, it had caught everyone by surprise.

At first Lylia, like any good scientist, was fascinated. She had proof! Proof that our physics weren’t the only physics out there—matter didn’t work in the same way, physicality didn’t work in the same way, and the universe wasn’t empty after all!

It was a glowing moment for science.

Until suddenly one of the grad students’ arms disappeared. The blood that splattered the ground flecked Lylia’s shoes as she should there, shocked, helpless as bits of the floor spluttered and vanished and the building’s infrastructure suddenly turned to nothing against the impossibility of a physics-less being. Chaos ensued, filling the hallways with shouts as the being engulfed everything it encountered, turning it into a form of matter imperceivable by humanity, intangible in the same regard. Later, hiding under her desk (not the smartest plan, she knew, but she panicked, okay?), Lylia figured out what she’d unleashed—a being able to interact with the physics and composition of this world, but unable to be interacted with by the physics and composition of this world. It was enough to make her head spin, so explaining it to Malou… Calling it a creature was just easier.

 

“I’m sorry,” she told Malou now, holed up next to the stairs. “I can’t… I can’t stop it. It defies all nature, it defies all… rational thought. It’s not of this world and it shouldn’t be here now. I’ve released it and I’m so… I’m so sorry.” If she hadn’t been so terrified, Lylia thought she would cry. Even now, with fear freezing her blood, Lylia felt tears well behind her eyes and in the catch in her throat.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s my machine. My lecture. My experiment. It’s literally my fault.”

“You didn’t know this would happen. Nobody knew. Nobody could know.”

“You should’ve gotten out when you had the chance.” Malou hadn’t evacuated with the others, she’d rushed to Lylia’s office instead.

“I couldn’t leave you.”

“You should have. You’ll die here. I can’t tell you anything about this… creature. I could have doomed the entire Earth.” Lylia began to cry, tears and snot dripping down her cheeks. It wasn’t the time or place, she knew, but she still felt bad for how ugly she must look. “You’re going to die, and everyone I know is going to die, and it’s all my fault.”

“The world was doomed anyway,” Malou said. “And you don’t know that you’re going to die. I mean, you said the creature wasn’t from our physics. Maybe it’ll… make us like it.”

That was highly illogical, but so was everything. “Maybe, but even then our entire lives, everything we know, will be taken away. I wish there was a way I could… I could distract it somehow, so you could escape but I…”

“I couldn’t leave you,” Malou repeated. “I couldn’t.”

“We’re going to die here.” Lylia’s sobs echoed down the hallway, and she no longer cared if the creature was able to perceive sound or not. “We’re going to die here and I never—”

“You never what?”

Lylia didn’t know. There were lots of things she’d never done. She’d never snowboarded, or owned a bird, or bought homeowner’s insurance. She hadn’t told her parents goodbye. She’d dated boys in high school and undergrad, but she’d never really felt in love with any of them. She’d never told Malou how beautiful she was.

The thought popped into Lylia’s head before she could stop it. She’d promised herself she’d never admit that to anyone—not even herself.

But if there was ever a time, now was it.

“You’re pretty,” she said, her voice squeaking like a grade schooler.

“Wait—what?”

“I just wanted you to know you’re really pretty.” This was so dumb. This was remarkably dumb. Lylia wanted to say more but she couldn’t.

“Oh.” Malou stared at Lylia. “I don’t know what to… I—oh. Thank you. You’re… you’re pretty too.”

Lylia felt the blood rush to her face and knew it must be a violent red by now. Violent red with puffy pink eyes—Malou was just being nice. “I’m sorry, I made things weird, it’s weird now, it’s our last hours on Earth probably and I’ve just made it so weird.”

“So?”

“So I’m sorry! We’re up against a unseen, intangible something and I just made everything weird.” Lylia hiccupped. She’d stopped crying, but her face was still a mess, she knew.

“Well, I’m glad you did, or I was going to.” Gently, Malou put her rough, calloused hand over Lylia’s.

“What?”

“I like you,” Malou said, the left corner of her mouth turning up into a grin. “I think I’ve liked you since we were in grade school together. That’s why I wanted you to tutor me, I wanted to get to know you better. That’s why I went to all your lectures. I like you.”

“Oh,” breathed Lylia. “Oh.

“So I guess, if this really is our last couple hours on this planet”—Lylia didn’t bother correcting her—“then I guess I want you to know. I like you a lot. I think you’re funny and kind and so passionate about everything. So… yeah.”

“Oh,” repeated Lylia. “I don’t know what to—”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know this is probably a weird shock, but I didn’t want to disappear without you knowing, okay? I just needed you to know—”

“I like you too,” Lylia spat out. “I like you too.”

“Oh.”

For a second, the two sat in silence, listening to the sparking of a light that the being had absorbed half of earlier in the day. Then Lylia began to cry again.

“Oh! No! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you—”

“No, no, I’m happy,” Lylia said, frantically wiping her tears. “I mean, I am a little. I’m just sad that we’re not… we’re not going to see the future that would come from this.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“I just wish we had more time.”

“Well, we have time right now. And who knows—maybe when the creature takes us, we’ll end up together in its dimension.”

Not a dimension, Lylia’s brain blathered, but it didn’t matter at all. Tentatively, she turned her hand up and laced her fingers though Malou’s. “There’ll be no tomorrow,” she warned.

“It sucks,” Malou said, nodding.

“But right now we’re together.”

“Makes it suck a little less.”

Lylia laughed. Yes. Every action they took should just be to make things suck a little less. “Of all the people to die with, you’re not a bad choice.”

“And at least we know that wherever we’re going, we’ll go together.”

“Together.”

Lylia wept as the creature’s plasmatic flickering came into view a little down the hallway and bits of air and floor disappeared, leaving behind blank nothingness of the physics that Lylia couldn’t perceive.

“Together,” Malou murmured into her ear, and they closed their eyes.

A virtual unknown, Australian actor George Lazenby was cast as James Bond in 1969, taking over the role from Connery in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”. Lazenby was young, inexperienced… and honestly not that great an actor. But when he played the part, he kind of killed it. And although initially panned by critics, in later years in fact his performance has been hailed as one of the finest. This role could have forever changed his life.

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main qimg cdca58e4a164bae10e803e2d819576a6 lq

And yet, out of thin air… Lazenby called it quits. Told the studio he would NOT be apearing in another Bond movie ever again. This was positively unprecedented. The role had made his predecessor a millionaire, a household name around the globe. It would have been Lazenby’s claim to fame. He’d be set for a lifetime. And yet, he bucked. And quit his job, in style. He said the studio “made him feel mindless” and that whenever he made suggestions for the role, he was dismissed, which he disliked. The young Australian didn’t want to “just be a product”. It was all the more shocking because of all the effort he had put into getting cast in the first place, bluffing his way into getting the part.

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main qimg 8a175aa7a4c64fcb284b6d02f7d9ced0

As filming came to an end, George Lazenby grew a beard. Grew out his hair, too. He looked more like a hippie than the famous suave secret agent he was portraying. By the time the premier came around, Lazenby was ordered by the studio to shave his beard, cut his hair, “look the part”. He flat-out refused, and not only kept the beard, he even put on a massive fur coat to further enhance his image as the enfant terrible of the Bond universe. Everyone gave Lazenby a hard time for his choice:

“I much prefer being a car salesman to a stereotyped James Bond. My parents think I’m insane, everybody thinks I’m insane passing up maybe millions of pounds. Nobody believed me. They thought it was a publicity stunt. But it’s just me doing my own thing”

He wouldn’t budge. George Lazenby became James Bond, played the role once, and never again. His film career failed to take off after this, and in later years the actor went into real estate, making a fortune for himself off-screen. He could have been one of the world’s most major movie stars… instead, he went from Bond, to hippie, to dude who flips houses for a living.

Do not forget about CloudStrike and it’s roll in the July 2024 shutdowns

The election is gonna be on line in a few days. Keep your eyes open.

One day, me and my girlfriend went out for lunch. After finishing our lunch, we called the waiter to get the bill. The waiter kept the bill on our table and then he left.

My girlfriend took the bill and checked it. There was some mistake. We had ordered 6 Rotis (Indian Bread) and only 4 were mentioned in the bill. She told me about this and I checked the bill again. She was right.

Then she said that we need to ask them to add 2 more Rotis in the bill and I was like, “Dude, don’t try to be Raja Harishchandra”. She asked, what’s wrong with that? As there was a difference of only 30 rupees, I answered, “Chalta hai yaar kabhi kabhi” (it happens sometimes). But she said, “No. It’s wrong. We must not do this. It’s someone’s hard earned money. We have ordered it and we have to pay for it.” I was surprised to hear that (just because of her maturity) and then I said, “Okay, you win.”

She immediately called the waiter and told him that we have ordered 6 Rotis and only 4 are mentioned in the bill. And asked him to kindly add that in the bill and get an updated one. The waiter said thanks to her and then went to the bill counter. He got a new and correct bill this time. We both checked it and a random conversation started between us.

During the conversation, I pulled out my wallet and picked out 2 five hundred rupee notes and gave it to the waiter with the bill. I was so lost in the conversation that I forgot the bill amount was 474 Rupees only. And instead of giving him a single note, I gave him two. Neither I was aware of this, nor my girlfriend and suddenly the waiter came and said, “Sir the amount is only 474 Rupees and you gave me 2 five hundred rupee notes. Please take one note back (and then he returned me one note).

I immediately checked my wallet and I was shocked that yes he is right! I had 3 notes in my wallet and there was only 1. I thanked him for this and also praised his honesty. He also got a decent tip from us. Then we left the place with a smile and a lesson. The lesson is,

Do good to get good

If you do a good thing, then something good will happen to you.

Thanks for reading.

Chicken and Mushroom Pasta

This Chicken and Mushroom Pasta is flavor packed and loaded with mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, spinach, veggie pasta and chicken. It’s a 30 minute meal that’s perfect for busy weeknights!

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6a39169f337e03edb7337cc593dd0dfa

Ingredients

  • 8 ounces spiral veggie pasta (rotini), cooked (reserve 1/2 cup starchy pasta water)
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 8 ounces baby bella mushrooms, sliced
  • 1/2 cup white onion, diced
  • 1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes
  • 2 teaspoons crushed garlic
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • Pinch of red pepper chili flakes (optional)
  • 1/2 cup Half-and-Half
  • 1/2 cup chicken broth
  • 2 cups cooked spinach, fresh
  • 2 chicken breasts, cooked and diced
  • 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

Instructions

  1. Cook pasta according to package directions. Reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water. Set aside.
  2. Heat olive oil in a sauté pan and add in mushrooms, onions, sun-dried tomatoes, garlic and seasonings. Stir and cook until fragrant, about 5 minutes.
  3. Add in the Half-and-Half, chicken broth and pasta water, and bring to a boil. Turn down to simmer for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring occasionally (pasta water will help thicken the sauce).
  4. Lastly, add in the cooked chicken, spinach and Parmesan. Stir until combined.
  5. Serve warm.

19 HOUR Layover In China (Guangzhou visa-free transit)

Don’t be ridiculous. Theodore Roosevelt was a 250 pound mountain of self-made muscle who gave a speech, got shot into the chest and, spitting out blood with a smile, told the alarmed crowd: “It takes more than that to kill a bull moose!” He then proceeded to give his speech anyway as if nothing had happened. It’s the type of scene that would make people roll their eyes in an anime series and say: “Gee, those Japanese cartoons sure are over-the-top bombastic and unbelievable!”

When Theodore Roosevelt was born, he was weak and sickly. Doctors said he’d surely die. His father believed otherwise. As soon as his son was old enough to understand, he told him: “God gave you a strong mind, but not a strong body. So you must build that body yourself.” He nodded and internalized that message. Started a fitness regimen of insane intensity, including calisthenics and bodyweight exercises. He climbed mountains. Fought in multiple wars. Knocked down several men at a time in bar fights, and rode horses and trekked through the roughest of terrain. His band of men was called “the Rough Riders”. About as close as a 19th century politician could be to being in a biker gang…

When Theodore Roosevelt was nearly assassinated he survived with a bullet lodged in his chest for the rest of his life. It did not, in any way, shape or form, slow the man down. His very first concern, after telling the crowd he was fine, was for the would-be assassin — he told police not to rough him up too bad. If the shooter had merely nicked his ear, Roosevelt would probably have asked him to come up close and said: “Mediocre! Come, have another go!”

Pre-Historic Underground Megastructure Found in Russia – Khara-Hora Shaft

This is amazing.

America and China are both superpowers. In fact, they are presently the ONLY superpowers.

Both countries have enormous economies, far surpassing third-place Germany and fourth-place Japan.

By purchasing power parity, both economies are also enormous, far surpassing third-place India.

China is indisputably the world’s only manufacturing/industrial superpower.

Both countries have enormous militaries. In fact, China has the largest army and the largest navy by number of ships. China has the second largest aircraft carrier fleet.

Both countries have large nuclear arsenals. Officially, China has 500 nuclear weapons, but unofficially this number is believed to be closer to a thousand.

Both countries are technological superpowers. In fact, according to the ASPI, China leads the world in 37 out of 44 critical technology fields (America leads in 7).

China is granted more technological patents than America and Japan combined!

According to the CWTS Leiden Ranking, China has about half of the world’s top universities.

China dominates the world in 5G. China dominates the world in EVs, batteries and solar panels.

America and China both exert enormous global influence economically, militarily, and technologically. This is why they are superpowers.

I was young and had wanted to break into the real estate industry since I was a baby. My dad had been an agent and my grandpa had been a house flipper. My grandpa had taught my dad everything about houses and how to fix them and flip them. Dad only had me, a girl.

Dad was undeterred and taught me everything grandpa had taught him and even brought me on showings. I had also studied woodworking, metal working, business administration, accounting, real estate, drafting and various other housing-related things while still in school. I was ready for my career in real estate.

However, I made one heck of a bad move right out of the gate. I signed on with a broker whom I didn’t know was shady. He seemed OK to me and he was Italian like me but I was naive and blinded by my dreams of working in the housing industry. Soon it was obvious that something was wrong. My broker refused to allow me to work the front desk where agents were able to take walk-in clients. He also refused other avenues that would help grow my career. I was completely frustrated to say the least. I was basically getting nowhere fast. It was as if he was deliberately trying to stop me from growing in the business.

What my broker didn’t count on was that I was persistent. So I finally, through my own avenues, got a potential buyer and two potential sellers. I was figuring out my career path, no thanks to my lousy broker. My broker was extremely upset that I was getting anywhere and I quite frankly couldn’t understand why he wanted to destroy me so bad when he hardly knew me. What kind of threat could I possibly be to him!?

So I’m getting ready to show my buyer a house and am getting the listing sheets etc together. Suddenly my broker says, “Oh, that house you’re showing, you need to know that the boiler is about to blow.” I thanked him for giving me the head’s up but was stunned when he added, “It is our secret! The seller and I know and the agents in the office know but no potential buyer is to know about this at all!!” Angry I responded, “Isn’t that illegal and immoral?” His response, “They will never know until after it is sold then the buyers can replace it at their own cost!”

I was beyond livid at that point! I outright refused to lie to my buyer and was asked to part ways with the company as a result of my “insubordination” to my broker. I was more than happy to do so even though it meant giving up my lifelong dreams. I was raised to be honest and forthright. I simple couldn’t bring myself down to that level no matter how much my dreams meant to me.

As I left the broker said, “By the way, I took you on because of your last name and then realized you couldn’t provide ‘favors’ for me afterwards. So basically it was a mistake having you here at all!!” I got what he meant, my uncle was Charles Luciano, AKA Lucky Luciano, the famous mobster. He thought I could get him some mob ties!!!!!

I looked him square in the eyes and said, “What are you, stupid? My uncle has been dead since before I was born! How the heck did you think I was going to pull any favors for you?” I stormed out. A few years later his business went belly up. I cannot decide if it was due to his shady dealings with his sellers or if he was simply a victim of the real estate market crash. I’m guessing it was his shady dealings to be honest.

So what happened to me? I found the man of my dreams and it turns out he builds chimneys for a living. Suddenly I found myself back in the housing industry that I love so much, running our own chimney company. And this company is not run on “favors” and shady dealings. This is one housing company that is run on honesty and integrity. And yes, I use all the education my dad handed down to me and all the schooling I took, on a daily basis, to run this company. The best part? I’m happy.

From 1974 until 1986 a serial killer who became known as EARONS (East-Area Rapist and the Original Night Stalker) terrorized a massive spree of terrible crimes. He committed at least twelve murders, fifty rapes and one hundred and twenty burglaries as well. In April 2018, the man was arrested… his name? Joseph James DeAngelo. A 72-year old retired cop.

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When they arrested DeAngelo, he appeared to be a kindly old grandfather. He lived in a house he shared with one of his adult daughters and his oldest granddaughter. When officers tried to arrest him, DeAngelo said he “had to go inside for a bit because he had a pot roast in the oven”. The cops then took him down, suspecting he was plotting to reach for a gun and either kill himself or engage them in a shootout…

There was no pot roast. What there was, however, was a house full of evidence. A shocked family who, for a year, never broke their silence in utter disbelief. And a computer, open, up and running…

Now DeAngelo was a terrifying killer. The type of killer who would go into houses, brutally attack sleeping couples and tie up husbands in the hallway with plates and cutlery on their backs as he would rape their wives nearby… and stab, shoot or bludgeon to death the poor husband if he made an attempt to escape and save his wife, causing the cutlery to fall on the floor…

He was also a former cop who “kept tabs” on the case. He stopped in the late 1980s around the time when DNA became a more commonly used source to solve crimes. Aware of his crimes, he even followed online, made accounts on message boards that recorded the case and tracked it’s development.

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main qimg cb6a0fdc69e58a810d88249f1d7ec374 lq

Joseph James DeAngelo also stalked his victims and their families for years after the attacks. A prowler, he would get a thrill out of repeatedly entering and leaving their homes on nights prior to his home invasions, getting to know every detail, nook and cranny of his future crime scenes. After raping and murdering family members he would find their phone numbers and call them, breathing down the line and uttering profanities. On one of his last such phone calls, somewhere around the 1990s, the victim heard children in the background. This caused law enforcement to look into the possibility that their suspect may be a family man — they had previously looked for a deranged bachelor without a family.

The fact that one of the most prolific serial killers and rapists went undetected for decades and was so… seemingly normal? Terrifying. You expect some sort of freak who talks to demons in the head and dogs possessed by Satan. Not a grandfather who takes his friends fishing by boat, who lives with his daughter, is happily retired and with-the-times enough to operate a computer and browse the internet successfully in his seventies, keeping up to date with the latest police techniques. Thank God for ancestry websites… it’s how she got a match with a distant relative of DeAngelo.

DNA took down the killer. On April 24, 2018, Joseph James DeAngelo was taken in at long last. But the most chilling detail, for me? Some accounts on the case message board for internet sleuths stopped posting altogether on the day of his arrests. And one never logged in again since. The monster lurked on the forum. Chatted the people obsessed with his case and even may have “thrown them hints” here and there. Chilling.

Italian Beef Pasta

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fac2a63cca5b717df0def156a1848e6e

Ingredients

  • 1 pound beef tenderloin, cut into thin strips
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 red bell peppers, chopped
  • 1 zucchini, chopped
  • 2 tomatoes, chopped
  • 1/2 pound sliced mushrooms
  • 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning
  • 2 cups beef broth
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • 1/4 pound rotini pasta

Instructions

  1. In a large skillet over medium heat sauté beef strips in hot oil until no longer pink.
  2. Add prepared vegetables and Italian seasoning to skillet. Cook and stir for 2 to 3 minutes or until onion is softened.
  3. Mix together broth and cornstarch until smooth. Add to meat mixture in pan; cook and stir until mixture comes to a boil and is thickened.
  4. Meanwhile, cook pasta as directed on package.
  5. Spoon beef mixture over prepared pasta; garnish with fresh basil if desired.

Why Asia doesn’t want warhawk Kamala in charge

I want to highlight today the sad tale of Mr. Paco Larrañaga. He was convicted to die in the Philippines in 1997 for a murder and rape he not only didn’t commit… but couldn’t possibly have committed. Why? Because he was not there. Two girls were raped and murdered in Cebu in 1997, the Chiong sisters. They belonged to a rather influential and shady family. Larrañaga, on the other hand, was just a young culinary school student hoping to one day be a chef. Despite having nothing to do with the case whatsoever, he was accused, perhaps for political reasons.

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main qimg 0fc6bf20b1d0bebf119203997f90849d lq

The murder took place on the island of Cebu. Larrañaga was nowhere near — he was in Manila, studying to be a chef. The night of the crime there are records of him leaving a club in Manila. Early the next day he sat for an exam. Over forty fellow students and teachers testified to this. There were no flight records of Larrañaga flying to or from Cebu at any time near the murder. And the man who claimed he was present, Rusia, a “state witness”, showed up only ten months after the event, having never even met Larrañaga. Physical evidence linking Larrañaga to the crime was never produced. No DNA, no fingerprints, flight records, nor witnesses except for this one state witness who the defense was only allowed to interview for a mere ten minutes(!) while Larrañaga was grilled for hours on end…

The judge said every single testimony from the teachers, the students, the bouncer of the club and even the airlines could not be used by Larrañaga because “they were his friends”. He was sentenced to death, later changed to life in prison when the death penalty was abolished in the Philippines. He was just nineteen years old when they arrested him and his life, for all intents and purposes, came to an end. Today, he is 45. He has been in jail for 25 years. It’s an injustice and it needs to be said. Only a presidential pardon could save this poor man’s already ruined life, but pleas seem to fall on death ears. I’ll link a petition you could sign, and would appreciate it if you did.

This is one of the most shocking cases ever to me. For some reason it gets to me, ever since I watched the documentary “Give Up Tomorrow” made about the subject. I have seen reviewed and researched the case extensively and I am appalled and astonished that a man who has been proven beyond reasonable doubt not to have been anywhere near a crime scene is still in jail wasting away for having committed that crime.

Why are U.S. entrepreneurs flying to China now?

The China Real Estate Syndrome

Why do you think it happened?

Why a Property that cost 350K RMB in 2004 rose to cost 3.5 Million RMB in 15 years time?

At 17% per Annum

It wasn’t due to demand and supply

It was due to RAPIDLY RISING INCOME INEQUALITY between 2005 and 2017 in China

In 2005 – the Top 0.1% Chinese earned 182% of what the Median Chinese earned

By 2016 it had risen to a whopping 568%

The Richer Chinese didn’t earn their money through manufacturing or factory work

They earned their money by PAPER WEALTH

They made real estate killings, reinvested into the same real estate

They made speculative killings and invested it back in speculative markets

Luckily for the Chinese , they had a great leader like Xi Jinping who saw the situation and decided to curb it

And has brought down the number from 568% to 342% in the last 7 years

Has kept real estate prices constant so that the apartment now costs 3.28 Million RMB instead of 5.25 Million RMB that it could have risen to

It’s still not hunky dory

However China has dodged a Major Hypersonic Nuclear Weapon and managed to get hit with a dozen bullets instead


India is heading the same way

Except that in India – State does not even own the land

Our 0.1% in the last 3 years from 2021–2024 now have 1186% more rise in wealth than the Median group

In China it was 293%

In US it was 313%

In Japan it was 181%

In India it was 1200%

You catch my drift?

If this keeps up, resources will become all the more expensive and the ownership will become even more exclusive

In 20 years – we could virtually be slaves of the 0.1% unable to grow or develop even a fraction

We talk of Middle Income Trap with China

We could fall into a Low Income Trap


Solution?

In the next two decades – the 0.1% should see a wealth growth of 275% of the Median Group

That’s the only way to ensure INEQUALITY IS CONTAINED

If they keep getting richer like today, India is finished

China woke up in 2018 – luckily

We need to have woken up five years ago, given that we have a bureaucracy while they can change the rules in twenty minutes

Unless Ambani and Adani can create latest technology and earn from it

And they are too Moron to do that

A 10-year-old cat abandoned, stays at the owner’s door unwilling to leave

Unless they’re simulating 12,000 MLRS guided rockets like a smaller version of the ATACMS in one hour. It’s completely useless.

It’s like practicing against 50 people when 10,000 will show up. What will that do? Will that really help?

You decide.

China brings a whole new dimension to modern warfare. Not only do they have advanced weapon system that is equal or better than the US, they have them in ridiculously large numbers.

They have been preparing for war with the US. So do you think Taiwan can do anything?

Right before I went into the US Army, the US invaded Panama. Operation Just Cause. Did Panama manage to fend off the US?

And Panama is over 1,800 miles. Taiwan is 100 miles off the coast of China. With no intervening nation. While Panama has the whole of Mexico between it and the US. Did that bother the US or stop the US?

Americans visiting CHINA for the first time!

I was a patient in the hospital myself, which was an eye opening experience for me as an RN. I was there for a week with what turned out to be psitticosis from my new pet parakeet. (Not a fun experience.) During that time, I got to know my roommate very well.

My roommate was a widow in her mid thirties, and she was dying of cancer. She had three young children who had recently entered the foster care system. She had no friends or family to help her, and no one willing to take her kids in. She had done nothing wrong as a mother except to become so sick with cancer that she could no longer care for her children. To complicate matters, she had recently been evicted from her apartment due to the loss of her income as a result of her ongoing illness. She was now homeless.

She was also uninsured, which is why her breast cancer was left untreated until it was too late. The cancer had been detected by a routine mammogram paid for by a woman’s health clinic. She was then referred for a biopsy, then to an oncologist. The oncologist was willing to see her free of charge, yet he could not afford to pay for her chemotherapy. He informed her that she needed to try to get on Medicaid, so that the expensive chemotherapy could begin. At that time she was still working, and she made too much money to qualify for Medicaid. She made far too little money though, to purchase health insurance. (This was in 2004, before the ACA, or even Go-Fund-Me came about.) She kept working as long as she could to feed her kids while the cancer spread throughout her body.

Soon after being told that she was terminal, she received word that she had been accepted into a charity drug program paid for by the Disney corporation. They agreed to pay for her chemotherapy, except now it was too late.

While we were in the hospital, she told me over and over again that she desperately wanted to see her children. She was embarrassed by her appearance though, because as the cancer overtook her, she became so weak that she would occasionally faint. One of those falls had chipped two of her front teeth close to the gum line. This was very noticeable. When her mouth was closed, she looked normal. The minute she spoke, smiled or ate, the missing teeth were very, very apparent. Her children had never seen her without her front teeth, and she feared that she would frighten them. She longed for a partial plate or crowns to correct her appearance before her children saw her, yet she had no money for this. As a result, she planned to wear a mask over her mouth when they came instead. Sadly though, her young children were never brought to see her. Calls by her to the social worker in charge of her children’s foster care placement went unreturned. I tried to get our hospital’s social services department to help, yet nothing was ever accomplished.

My roommate had been a pre-school teacher. This isn’t a high paying job, yet it is an important one. The job, sadly, offered no benefits. Plus, due to her cancer, she had by this point not been able to work for several months.

By the time I was discharged, we had become the best of friends. I was still quite weak from my own illness, yet my hope was to have her live in my spare bedroom when she was discharged. As a nurse who only worked part time, I knew that I could care for her.

Whether she came to live with me or not, I also planned to help get her teeth fixed so that she could at least die with the dignity of a beautiful smile. I even had a dentist lined up who was willing to help. Most importantly, I planned to find some way to have her children visit regularly. I never got the chance to do any of those things though. I went to see her two days after my discharge, only to find out that she had passed away suddenly the night before, alone, homeless and toothless.

Keanu Reeves

While shooting the movie “The Lake House”, he overheard the conversation between two costume assistants, and a woman was crying because she would lose her house if she didn’t pay a sum of 20 thousand dollars. He deposited it into her account.

On his birthday in 2010, he went into a bakery alone and bought a cupcake with a single candle. While he ate it outside, he offered free coffee and bread to all customers. This was his luxury birthday.

With what he earned from the Matrix trilogy, he distributed 50 million dollars to the special effects personnel, because according to him, they were the real heroes of the films.

He almost never used stuntmen, except for very specific things like stunts, and for this reason he recognized the work of his stuntmen by giving each of them a Harley Davidson motorcycle.

To this day, he regularly uses the subway and other public transportation systems such as the bus when necessary because it is the most practical thing, and he is never ashamed.

A large number of hospitals say they have received tens of millions of dollars from him.

He donated 90% of his salary in some films so that the production could hire other stars.

In 1997, a paparazzo found him on the street sitting next to a homeless man, listening to the homeless man’s life and having breakfast with him.

All the good we know about Keanu Reeves was not told to us by him, but by those who benefited from him. He never declared anything.

For everything he has experienced, he could have had a sadder and more pessimistic view of life, but despite this he chose to be that something good among all the evil there is.

American greed…

What happened? Since when did money become EVERYTHING?

My GOD. What a great video.

Foraging in Summer as a young child

Hi Don Wynn. Since you ask a naive question, it is better that i give you a naive answer. Actually China scare the hell out of Philippines during the recent confrontation with chinese coast guards only armed with axe ( presumably to prevent suicides of filipinos soldiers) to confront filipino soldiers fully armed with rifles who refuse to shoot but instead surrender their rifles to the chinese coast guards.

After a week, a Philippines trawler exploded and sunk in Chinese water. Fisherman was saved but not arrested and hand over the survivors back to Philippines.

Literally means that China is not interested in colonising Philippines but only claim what belongs to the chinese as compare to America that colonised Texas, Hawaii, Guam, etc and now most likely Philippines.

The Duran

The United States’ inadequate response to China’s rise is nothing short of a geopolitical blunder, driven by fear, misinformation, and a Cold War mentality that is both outdated and counterproductive.

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main qimg b2ab141203de7e844c865127eee1bc1a

The reality is that America’s attempts to counterbalance China have been fundamentally flawed because they are based on misperceptions and misguided strategies, failing to recognize the true dynamics of China’s growth and influence.

At the core of the U.S.’s ineffective approach lies a significant misunderstanding of modern China. The American narrative, largely shaped by the media, often portrays China as an oppressive, backward nation on the brink of collapse, rife with human rights abuses and economic instability. This skewed perception leads to policies based on fictional threats rather than the real, evolving landscape of a rapidly advancing China. Operating under these misconceptions ensures that the U.S. is often preparing for battles that do not exist while neglecting the actual areas where China excels.

One area where U.S. strategies have particularly fallen short is technological competition. In its bid to restrict Chinese access to advanced technologies, the U.S. has inadvertently spurred China to double down on self-reliance and innovation. Efforts to curtail entities like Huawei have backfired, with China making significant strides in fields like 5G, AI, and quantum computing. The launch of the Huawei Mate 60, with its domestically-produced 5G chip, serves as a testament to how U.S. actions have often spurred China’s technological advancements instead of stalling them.

The economic interdependence between the U.S. and China adds another layer of complexity. Despite attempts to sever ties and decouple the economies, the sheer scale of trade and investment links makes this next to impossible without causing significant harm to both sides. U.S. industries, from agriculture to tech, are deeply integrated with China, and measures like tariffs and sanctions often backfire, harming American businesses and prompting severe pushback. This economic entanglement means that any attempt to counter China must be meticulously calculated to avoid mutual economic downfall.

Globally, the U.S.’s attempts to isolate China have frequently missed the mark. China continues to bolster its influence through initiatives like the Belt and Road and expanding its reach within organizations like BRICS. These efforts have allowed China to create strong economic and diplomatic ties, countering U.S. attempts at isolation and even attracting nations traditionally allied with the U.S. to engage more with Beijing for economic and strategic benefits.

Back home, the United States faces its internal challenges that further impede its ability to effectively respond to China’s rise. Issues like political polarization, economic inequality, and a lack of coherent industrial policy hinder America’s global competitiveness. While China focuses on coordinated, long-term investments in infrastructure, technology, and education, the U.S. is often stuck in partisan gridlock, lacking the collective focus needed for such bold initiatives.

The U.S. military-industrial complex also exacerbates this situation. Driven by vested interests in perpetuating conflict narratives, this complex steers the U.S. towards military solutions over diplomatic and economic engagement. The legacy of a Cold War mentality, fueled by defense contractors and hawkish policymakers, perpetuates hardline stances that ultimately isolate potential allies and destabilize international relations.

Furthermore, efforts by the U.S. to persuade its allies to decouple from China have seen limited success. Countries with significant economic ties to China, like Germany and France, resist pressure to align too closely with U.S. demands, prioritizing their economic interests over geopolitical maneuvering. These nations understand that a balanced approach with both global powers often yields better outcomes, highlighting a divergence in interests that complicates U.S. strategies.

Ultimately, the U.S. needs a fundamental shift in how it perceives and engages with China. Strategies based on misinformation, fear, and outdated Cold War thinking are doomed to fail. To effectively navigate China’s rise, the U.S. must first acknowledge the realities of China’s strengths and aspirations. Only by understanding this true China can America develop policies that are responsive and constructive, fostering global stability and mutual growth rather than ongoing contention and rivalry.

A few years ago my family and I were eating at JFK. My daughter was in a chair, my two year in a stroller. Out of nowhere an airport cop came up screaming that I needed to strapy child into the stroller and now! This was apparently a very dangerous thing, a kid sitting in a stroller doing nothing but looking about at people passing.

Due to the imbalance of power and not wanting to miss my flight I didn’t point out that (a) I am the parent not her, (b) I decide (c) I didn’t need my kid or family to be shouted at, a simple discussional tone would have worked (d) she could genuinely go fuck herself and she really left us thinking, fuck this place we’re outta here.

I like the US, but have no idea why anyone with a uniform can’t just act like an adult and not a completely paranoid schizo.

Dog rescue

Rigatoni with Olives and Bacon

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 6 slices bacon
  • 1/2 large onion, thinly sliced
  • 8 ounces dried rigatoni (or other small pasta)
  • 12 pitted and chopped cured black olives (such as Kalamata)
  • 1 to 2 ounce piece Parmesan cheese
  • 2 tablespoons coarsely chopped marjoram or thyme (optional)

Instructions

  1. In medium skillet, cook bacon until crisp (reserve drippings); blot, coarsely chop and set aside.
  2. In bacon drippings, sauté onion until soft and just beginning to brown, about 5 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile, cook pasta according to package directions, drain and transfer to warm serving platter or large shallow bowl.
  4. Toss pasta with bacon, onion and olives. Season with salt and pepper to taste; toss again.
  5. Use a vegetable peeler to cut the Parmesan cheese into thin shavings.
  6. Sprinkle the cheese over the pasta and top with the fresh herb, if desired.

Lay low until Trump is done then wait for another US President who wants to make trouble for China.

But no matter what, it won’t make any difference. Taiwan is part of China and nothing the US can do will change that. And since the US isn’t willing to kill a bunch of US soldiers to try and take Taiwan, the Separatists are a lost cause.

Even if the US by some miracle wins, China can take it back in 10 years. After all the US can’t move Taiwan.

It was a lost cause from the beginning. It was always something the US used to harass China. Try to weaken China, somehow. It hasn’t worked by has made the US look like a bully.

The timing of the Battle of Midway; 6 months after Pearl Harbor.

The battle against Japan turned within a year after the war started.

Sketches and art

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Liberal democracy is not suitable for big nations. it has already been proven :

UK with just 68M people is rotting away…. It is a mess today.

US with just 342M people is also rotting away…. It is a bigger mess today.

India with 1.45B people is full of political promises to be this and that but they can’t get their act together for ages………

In contrast, China with 1.42B people is progressing in leaps and bounds in growing their economy, transforming their style of governance to a socialist democracy with their own unique characteristics, advancing in all fields of advanced technologies, alleviating abject poverty, implementing common prosperity measures….. Nationalism is key, not individualism!

I think Democracy works for small nations less that 15M people and liberalism have to be curtailed. If it is not based on meritocracy, it will DEFINITELY fail altogether. How can a leader who is not meritocratic be an elected leader of people who are smarter than him?

Just the other day I read a story of the ship the Britannia, which had been sunk by the Germans in 1941. So picture this… 249 men are dead and your ship lost. You’re floating on the South Atlantic. Everywhere you look around you, you see nothing but this vast mass of water… a man named Raymond Edmund Grimani Cox, a Lieutenant, was in a small boat with some other soldiers, having survived the disaster.

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main qimg 5cd87cb466e5ecfce5c37ce380e1a968

And then a giant arm comes out from the side of the boat. An enormous slimy tentacled arm, and another, and another… they’re several meters long, thick, and covered in huge tentacle suckers. Lieutenant Grimani Cox is grabbed by one of the monstrous arms, and left profusely bleeding even after he manages to stab it repeatedly until it lets him go. Another one of his friends isn’t so fortunate — he’s lifted in the air, then dragged kicking and screaming down in the deep with the monster. One moment he’s there, shouting, fighting for dear life… and then, he isn’t. He’s gone. The giant squid is gone, too. All that’s left is the wounded men, the battered boat and that enormous ocean, now deadly quiet…

There’s hardly anything as scary in this world than the ocean, and the monsters that lurk in its deepest depths. Whales have been found with the scars of enormous squid tentacles, scars that, by their size, suggest specimens far larger than any of the creatures ever discovered and measured with human eyes. Nothing on God’s green earth frightens me more intensely.

To China and Chinese, civilization is indicated by writing. Without writing, a culture can’t be a civilization. The Chinese word for civilization is 文明, literally “to understand the written word” or “the written word brightens”. This is why Chinese people believe that Chinese civilization is the last remaining continuous cradle of civilization in history, as it’s the only cradle of civilization whose writing has not been abandoned.

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main qimg 605a64ad6c04f444b7c92cde104aa94e

Archaeological site of the Shang palace

In the world, the known cradles of civilization are:

  • Sumer: Cuneiform abandoned, later to be rediscovered and needed to be deciphered by a European (Georg Friedrich Grotefend)
  • Egypt: Hieroglyphs abandoned, later to be rediscovered and needed to be deciphered by a European (Jean-François Champollion)
  • Harappa: Harappan script abandoned and still undeciphered, whose civilization was first rediscovered by a European (John Marshall)
  • Mesoamerica: Mesoamerican scripts abandoned, later needed to be deciphered by Europeans (mainly, the Mayan script was deciphered by Yuri Knorozov)
  • Peru: Peruvian quipu abandoned, still undeciphered, but quite controversial as many don’t consider quipu to be a writing system
  • Minoan: Minoan scripts abandoned, only deciphered Linear B, but quite controversial as many don’t consider Minoan civilization to be a cradle of civilization, but was instead influenced by Egypt and Mesopotamia

Meanwhile, the Chinese script has yet been abandoned, but merely evolved over time. The Shang dynasty, whose oracle bones were rediscovered by Chinese archaeologist Luo Zhenyu, had the same writing system as modern Chinese, just evolved in forms, meaning texts in oracle bones can be fully rendered in modern Chinese script.

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Oracle bone of the Shang

In fact, the Shang script was so developed in its form that it could not have sprung up over night. There must’ve been a predecessor to it, and many believe that earlier dynasties had already used a form of proto-writing (which later evolved into Shang script). Archaeologists have discovered many symbols dating to as early as 6000 years ago with forms resembling the Shang script.

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main qimg d652a1beeba3e3d1f315f58146f67a02

Using oracle bone script to render Tang dynasty poetry

So if you consider writing systems as the litmus test for civilizations, then yes, China is indeed the last continuous cradle of civilization on earth. Also notice how I said “cradle of civilization” and not civilization, because that’s how Chinese say it. Secondary civilizations whose writing systems were adopted from someone else like Japan, Rome, Aztec, Kush, Greece, Akkad, Persia, etc. are not considered in this category.


To those who argue against it, what do you consider the litmus test for a continuous civilization?

Some of my latest art

My prompt for this AI generation group is;

Create a anatomically-accurate, photo realistic, Baroque-style oil painting. two soft and feminine attractive Chinese woman are on a clipper ship, lounging next to a handsome muscular man. 

They are drinking wine and eating grapes . in front of them is Dionysus the Greek god . wine, and pleasure. He is enticing them on. 

the god Faunus is laughing, and everyone else is smiling and blessing the scene. 

the woman's skin radiates in warmth and glows softly. bright light. beautiful day. lush colors. a hint of chiaroscuro that contrasts the light sun lit portions with the shadier sections.

I used [1] the Albedo base XL (fine tuned) generation model, with [2] the”Digital Painting” element seed. Some also were also additionally modified using [3] the “Prompt Magic” plug in. But the results were not worth the cost in “chit usage”.

This resulted in many nudes or partial nudes. This is directly attributed to the use of the “Digital painting” element seed.

When I added the “Prompt Magic” plug in, they became fully clothed, but also lost some of the “fresh innocence” look that I was striving for.

Resulting in some of these amazing images…

High quality, but slow loading. Sorry.

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(41)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(41)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(33)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(33)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(34)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(34)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(32)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(32)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(33)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(33)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(37)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(37)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(38)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(38)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(31)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(31)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(32)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(32)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(36)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(36)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(30)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(30)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(36)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0(36)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(34)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(34)

@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(30)
@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(30)

@aer Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(21)
@aer Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 3(21)

@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(22)
@Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(22)

@@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(20)
@@art Default Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 2(20)

My idea is to select a few of these and then paint them in oils on a nice canvas. What do you all think?

We don’t know yet. But initial indications are that electric vehicles (EVs) will outlast gas mobiles.

The Nissan Leaf became available in 2011 and the Tesla model S in 2012 in limited numbers. There are now (as of 2024) more than 40 million EVs in the world. There simply has not been enough time to determine the real world lifespan of EVs. There are lots of projections and evidence that they will average more than 15 years. But no hard numbers.

The average lifespan of a gas mobile is 12 years and 200,000 miles (322,000 km). Fifty years ago cars were considered to be junk if they reached 100,000 miles. So, the automobile industry is clearly getting better at vehicle longevity.

The major concern with respect to EVs is the lifespan of the high voltage battery pack. Electric motors clearly have a far longer lifespan than a gas engine, typically 15 to 20 years. The drive train of an EV is also much simpler and expected to last 15 to 20 years. There is no automatic transmission or clutch for an EV, just a reduction gear to reduce the speed of the electric motor to the speed needed for the wheels. So, no shifting of gears and fewer mechanical parts to wear out. The electric motors are variable speed, they directly drive the wheels via the reduction gear. EV electric motors have about 20 moving parts compared to about 2000 for a gas engine.

The US federal government requires EV manufacturers to offer an eight-year/100,000-mile warranty on all EV batteries. This law was actually implemented at the request of the EV manufacturers, they know new buyers are worried about the longevity of the battery pack. Tesla warranties both th

e battery pack and drive train for 8 years.

An EV battery should not be compared to a smartphone battery. Both use lithium batteries but the EV battery is temperature controlled (in most cases with a liquid coolant and heat pump). Heat is the enemy of all lithium battery chemistries.

Another big factor is that not all of the capacity of an EV battery pack is made available for driving. You will see a state of charge (SOC) indicator on the dashboard that goes from 0% to 100% but that is probably only about 90% of the true battery capacity. EV manufacturers don’t publish specs for this, it’s a grey area they don’t want the public to know about. So, if you run an EV down to 0% you will probably get another 10 or 20 miles of range but when it finally does stop moving you will notice that the lights and display and power windows still work. The battery is not really at 0% SOC and that helps the longevity of the battery.

In addition to that, most EV owners don’t charge above 80% or let the SOC drop below 20% for daily use. For road trips it’s okay to charge to 90% or 100% and let the SOC drop to around 10% before charging. But don’t do that for daily use.

The available data for Teslas indicate they lose about 2% of capacity the first year and 1% each year after that. So a loss of 11% after ten years. Not a big deal but something to consider since EVs have much less range than a gas mobile.

Gas mobiles have had over 100 years of research and development and EVs have had less than 15 years (the electric cars powered by lead acid batteries don’t count). EV batteries are getting better every year, they provide more range and charge faster, and the cost of the battery packs is dropping steadily. The longevity of the battery packs is increasing too.

The big news lately for EV batteries is something called Lithium iron phosphate (LFP, sometimes abbreviated LiFePO4). They are being installed in less expensive, shorter range EV models. The Teslas manufactured in China all have LFP batteries. If you want a long-lived EV you might be better off going for the cheapie model. LFP batteries have 3 to 5 times the longevity of nickel based lithium batteries like NMC and NCA. The expectation is that they will last 1,118,000 miles (1,800,000 km) until battery capacity drops to 80%. Of course you can still drive an EV that has lost 20% of its capacity, you just have less range. The downside of EVs with LFP battery packs is shorter range and poor cold weather performance.

It will take several more years before it is clear which EV manufacturers have the best reliability and longevity.

I was musing about this the other day. Don’t you know

I was chaperoning a group of boy scouts (ex father in law was the troop leader) on a night hike in some woodland locally. I remained at the base in the car park helping prepare tea, cocoa and snacks. A few of the kids were always around as they went out in intervals with one leader or another so it was important that an adult was there to supervise them, I was around 18, 19 at the time.

A car pulled in to the carpark, which had been cordoned off and reserved for our use so the kids would stay safe. No one got out, so another leader went over to tell them that the park was off limits or see if it was a parent showing up hours early for some reason. They came back almost immediately and told me to call the police (I was the only one with a phone) as the man in the car wouldn’t speak, but was wearing a mask – it was actually the mask from the Scream films – had a shotgun and had piles of rope and tarpaulin in the car.

I remember being so scared that I couldn’t even remember the name of the park when I was speaking to the police, I was shaking and couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. All I could think was that we couldn’t see the car so had no idea if the man was still in it or out in the woods where we had 30 kids out in the dark with no way of contacting them.

Thankfully the police showed up in minutes, quickly found the man and arrested him. He said that he was out there hunting rabbits – why he would do so with a shotgun, or need a mask and rope I don’t know. We got all the kids back safely and didn’t tell them what had happened, but the sight of 7 or 8 police cars and a police dog unit was pretty difficult to ignore.

Definitely one of the scariest experiences I’ve had!

The Golden Ratio – Transmuted Pain to Power in Infinite Divine Proportion

Way back when I was out of college and working my first decent job, I had the assignment of vetting a bunch of applications for a new team the company was putting together. I was lightly bullied in HS by two girls who like to pick on skinny people of which I was one (5′8″ and 115 lbs). After college, I had grown up, filled out, and was a horseback rider and swimmer so in decent shape.

In the stack of about 50 applications that I was to cut down to 20 were applications by those two girls. They were both qualified and looked good on paper so they made the cut. When my company started interviewing, I was the one taking applicants into the room and when the first girl arrived, she took one look at me, turned white as a sheet but proceeded to the interview. I hadn’t told anyone of their actions in HS but it was known by others that the two were bullies when they were together and she didn’t get hired. She blamed me. The second girl was forewarned and was nice to me and apologized for her earlier treatment and when she went into the interview, she apologized to everyone there for her behavior as a teenager and she got hired.

The first girl came to see me at home and came at me again and I just put her on the ground without leaving a mark on her and told her I had nothing to do with her not being hired and she should find out what her friend had done to get hired. She left.

About a year later, I got a promotion and my old job was open and she applied for it and got hired. My revenge was they both worked for me and neither knew me well enough to know that my revenge was to do nothing and let their imaginations made them do good work and behave. I moved out of state about 5 years later and they were both good employees and I think part of that was having to take orders from someone they bullied.

John Mearsheimer: US Warships APPROACHED Lebanon, Putin Sent Anti-Ship Missiles To Houthis Join War

I don’t think it’s a spy balloon, it’s indeed what the Chinese call a “weather device.”

Why?

Check out these:

1. Jilin No. 1 satellite cluster

Jilin-1 is a reconnaissance satellite system developed by China. It was developed by the Changchun Institute of Optics, Fine Mechanics and Physics of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. The first set of satellites was launched at 12:13 on October 7, 2015. As of August 2023, Jilin The No. 1 satellite project has been launched a total of 26 times, with 131 satellites in orbit, which can revisit any location in the world 35 to 37 times a day.

  • This is a picture of the US Air Force base taken by Jilin 1

It can clearly photograph all military bases in the United States. Not only did they demonstrate to the public the effect of photographing U.S. naval bases, they even demonstrated the ability to track an F22 taking off from the Nevada Air Force Base.

2. Wing Loong 3 UAV

The Wing Loong 3 is a large UAV developed by China that can be used for high-altitude reconnaissance and attack. Without in-flight refueling, it can fly continuously for 32 hours and has a range of more than 10,000 kilometers.

If they needed to, it could take off in China and scout all over the United States, much faster and more stealthily than a balloon.

If I were Chinese, I would not choose such a stupid tool as a balloon for military reconnaissance.

The disadvantages of balloons are obvious

1. The flight trajectory is uncontrolled

Where it flies is completely determined by the monsoon, and a precise reconnaissance route cannot be set in advance.

2. Slow speed

It often takes a month to reach the target.

3. Poor reliability

Extreme weather, lightning strikes and other reasons can destroy the balloon at any time.

4. No concealment

Because of its appearance and height, it will even be seen and discovered by ordinary people, causing diplomatic disputes.

If I were North Korea, I would probably use something like a balloon to accomplish the mission. But why would China, which has other stronger and more reliable capabilities, choose this kind of thing?

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私のコンテンツは日本のメディアによって翻訳または転載されません。
내 콘텐츠는 한국 언론에 의해 번역되거나 재인쇄되지 않습니다.

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Yes. I used heavily for 10 years without having more than 36 hours clean ever over ten years. Jail/prison was the only way I was ever able to kick. It’s strange because sucks, of course, but at the same time it’s weirdly easier to do it while locked up because you know there’s nothing you can do about it. Once you can accept that all the anxiety and desperation disappears and it allows time to pass quicker. I know when I was using and was dopesick I would toss and turn in my bed for what felt like 6 hours and look at the clock and 15 minutes had passed. It just crawled by at a agonizingly slow pace. It wasn’t like that in jail.

Also tell the staff you have really bad diarrhea, and are dangerously dehydrated, and they should offer you Imodium. Imodium(loperamide) binds to the opiate receptor in your gut and will give you some relief. It also slows the movement of electrolytes through your body so you won’t be on the toilet as much, and won’t be as dehydrated, which causes a lot of the muscle pain.

If you have a court date that you know is when you are going to sign and start your time then start tapering down as much as possible before you go in. I went from $100 a day habit down to where a $20 would last me 2 days before I went in and it helped tremendously in reducing the severity of my withdrawals.

Once I was done I was like “wow, that’s what I was so afraid of for 10 years?” It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Not pleasant, but time will pass, it has to, and the symptoms will fade. It won’t kill you. It did take me 9 months of a 15 month sentence to change my mindset that I was going to use soon as I got out. I just woke up one day and no longer remembered heroin fondly. I only remembered everything shitty about it.

Probably the most famous case like this involved the eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes.

The story starts in Las Vegas and the Hotel Desert Inn which, at the time, was owned by Dalitz.

At the time, the Desert Inn hosted the largest casino on the strip in Vegas. Hughes moved into and rented the top two floors of the hotel on Thanksgiving Day 1966.

After a couple weeks the hotel owners wanted to get Hughes to leave as they felt his eccentricity was negative PR for the Vegas image of their hotel. They also wanted to make room for the high rollers expected over the upcoming holiday season. Hughes was also perceived as a little crazy by this time in his life.

Instead of moving out though, Hughes entered negotiations to buy the Desert Inn. He managed to purchase the resort from Dalitz for $6.2 million in cash and $7 million in loans.

Hughes lived, worked and never left his 250 sq. ft. bedroom in the hotel. The windows and doors were taped shut. No housekeeping was allowed in. He conducted a large amount of business from the phones of this small, darkened room.

He was finally carried out four years later on a gurney and flown to the Bahamas to live out the last few years of his weird life.

Stand by me – Full movie

This is a GREAT movie. It’s a 1980’s classic and all about boyhood.

Birch beer memories

My wife’s brother died and left everything to her. He was a hoarder, and while the house was in a good neighborhood, it was in bad shape. We tried to clean it up for him while he was in the hospital, thinking that he would be coming home, but he went from ICU to Hospice to Morgue in about 10 days.

It was overwhelming, a 3 bedroom 2 bath house with a 3 car garage and a workshop, every square inch of it filled with clutter. He was a contractor, but when he got divorced he just gave up. There was 30 years worth of junk mail on the floor that he just walked on until it turned to paper pulp, 2 feet deep in places. He didn’t trust banks, so his whole house was like his safety deposit box. Every envelope had to be inspected, every box had to be opened, every bag had to be emptied. We found 2 Home Depot buckets worth of loose change in the living room. We found 7 postal money orders for $1,000 each in an old utility bill envelope. We found $4,000 in cash in a paper shredder. We took 200 big black 42 gallon trash bags to the dump, and everything had to be checked out before we tossed it into the trash. The main hallway had sheets of drywall leaning to one side, and when we cleared them out and opened the closet where the HVAC equipment was supposed to go, we found silver bars stashed in the space below, behind the air intake. I loaded the silver into 2 plastic buckets to carry it out to our truck, and after about 3 steps the buckets shattered and I was holding only the handles. It took us 6 months of cleaning before we were confident that we could bring in other people to help us.

My wife sells on eBay, and she has been selling off the stuff her brother had accumulated. Old school incandescent light bulbs sold like hotcakes, we had enough new in boxes to fill her short bed truck. He collected milling machines and lathes. My wife will be selling brand new collets and chucks and bits and cutters for 5 more years. We’ve got enough circuit breakers and panels and wire and conduit and junction boxes and switches and wall sockets to redo every house on our street.

I’m something of a car guy, and I’ve been tasked with selling off the engines and car parts. I’ve got enough period correct Chrysler hemi parts to build 3 or 4 muscle car engines. There are enough hand tools to overload his diesel dually 4×4, and enough power tools to fill his 2 wheel drive diesel dually truck again. We gave his ’68 Barracuda to his best friend.

We’ve been working on the house for over 2 years now, getting it read to sell.

Not a mechanic but worked in a building that also housed a delivery service. The couriers parked in the parking garage on the lower level for quick arrival and departures for making their deliveries. One of the vehicles was an old Pontiac station wagon. The fellow must have lived in his vehicle. He had a cheap grill attached to the top with bungee cord, the legs were removable, next to a sack of charcoal, a couple folding chairs, and a popup canopy. Inside the vehicle the floorboards were covered with plywood or boards as the floorboards had rusted out. He had a clothes bar suspended behind the front seat with clothes hanging from it as well as in the back with clothes hanging there. The vehicle must have come from around the great lakes as it appeared the salt on the roads had eaten out the fenders and most of the bumpers. the back windshield didn’t go all the way up, there was a piece of Visqueen duck taped over the gap, just at the top so driving down the road allowed air to flow out.

One week we noticed a handwritten sign laid on the front dash that pleaded with building security to not tow it away as the owner was saving money to have it repaired.

I noticed an empty plastic tote in the back by the window that wouldn’t go all the way up. I dropped a $20 so that it fell into the plastic tote. The next week I noticed that several others had dropped money through the slightly open window from $1 to $10 type bills. As the week progressed the stack was looking tempting. Then the car was gone. I don’t know if it got towed away or what. Several weeks later there was a used Toyota Prius parked in the same spot with a large hand scrolled sign on the front dash with a “thanks to all that contributed”. We all hoped that he was able to find an apartment and that the courier service paid well enough to get him off the street.

GEN-Z REACTS To Things Kids Did in the 1970s

I grew up in Canada. My high school economics teacher explained something that no one else did. Socialism, communism and capitalism are economic systems.

Democracy, theocracy, monarchy, autocracy and meritocracy are political systems.

If you look this up in any reference book, you can verify this.

So it’s possible to have democractic communism, theocratic capitalism… the combinations are limited only by permutations.

China is ruled by the Communist party of China. But they espouse and practice socialism with Chinese characteristics.

The political system is a meritocracy.

Everyone moves up the ranks by how well you perform. You start doing administration work in a village. Prove yourself and get a town to run. Then a small city. Medium city. Large city.

Many leaders were mayors of Shanghai. Population of 26 million.

That is no easy task.

If the economy of Shanghai is in the doldrums and you fix it, move up the ladder. Provincial head. Then a few more high level policy committees. The journey can take 30–40 years.

No big mistakes and you keep going up.

Xi Jinping followed this path. All along the way, you get voted to move up. Most leaders are engineers, architects or economists. They are planners and builders. They rely on proven ability not good sounding speeches and promises.

Action speaks louder than words.

When I was a kid we would go camping for q weeks every summer. Even when my parents divorced we still went. My dad would be with us the first week then my mother would xome up and trade off with him for the second week.

One year we were at our usual campground in Southern Michigan. One morning at a nearby campsite, the parents were arguing very loudly. While this was going on their young boy (maybe 3?) was running around unsupervised. He stayed mainly in their site but I think that was only luck.

After a while of this his luck ran out. They had had a fire in the pit the night before as most people there had. These pits were little more than an eight inch depression in the ground surrounded by rocks. The morning after a campfire the pit is full of ash. However, that ash covers an underlayer of very hot coals. Hot enough that if you stirred them up and added more wood the fire would reignite. This poor kid ran through the pit.

The only response from the parents when this kid started screaming was for dad to grab him up, yell at him to shut the hell up, and stick him in a lounge type camp chair. Dad then proceeded to rejoin the argument with mom.

We couldn’t see the kid very well from our site but we could sure hear him. For about an hour he screamed in pain while his parents fought only pausing now and then to yell at him. Finally, my dad had had enough and walked over to confront the other father. They almost fought but my dad walked back, told my mom he’d be right back, got in the car and left. He came back about 15 min later and said he’d called the police from the range station. He said the boys feet were burned raw.

About 20 minutes later 2 state police cars and an ambulance arrived. The big was loaded into the ambulance and after some investigation by the troopers around the campsites nearby, each parent got their own backseat in a cruiser.

Never knew what happened after that. We were there about another week and that other campsite sat just the way they left it. I kinda hope that kid went to someone else that took better care of him.

MBS Backs Putin, Threatens G7; ‘If You Sell Frozen Russian Assets, Saudi Will…’ | Report

Having worked with (U.S ) Attorneys for a number of years, let me explain something. Attorneys depend on making the most money for their clients as possible, because that means that THEY make more money. Most “injury” suites are percentage based which means the higher the overall award, the higher amount of money the Attorney can claim as their fee. (This is usually a set percentage, but 30% of $300k is a WHOLE LOT MORE than 30% of $100.00.)

Because of this Attorneys will “name EVERYONE possible” to a suite. I’ve even heard of some going after KEY WITNESSES. It’s a BLATANT attempt at coercion – STRICTLY PROHIBITED LEGALLY – but a good number of the more “known” accident attorneys across this nation are nothing more than glorified ambulance chasers!! 90% of the time, these extemporaneous “Defendants” are dismissed from the suite LONG before the case would get anywhere close to trial, HOWEVER that does NOTHING for the ABSOLUTE TERROR these tactics cause for the upstanding citizens that offer video, photographs or verbal witness to an accident.

As has been previously stated, your BEST solution would be to hire an attorney, answer the suite, THEN countersue for emotional distress, loss of wages (time lost due to appointments w/attorney, doctor appointments due to the distress – if any – time lost having to appear in Court, mileage, gasoline costs, daycare costs if incurred, literally EVERY LITTLE THING you and your attorney can think of, to prove a point to opposing council, that #1 their an idiot; #2 YOU are NOT; #3 that they barked up the WRONG tree; #4 that Attorneys DON’T COME CHEAP, etc!) Then you follow thru with your counter suite, EVEN if they drop you (by force or by choice) from the suite! Good Luck!!

The whole system works for this.

  1. High entry barrier – rigorous training , examination, and it’s expensive. As a foreigner with over 10 years of driving experience, I had to re-learn the driving practices towards safer, “boring” (If that can be applied to going over 200 km/h, however, it quickly becomes normal here, this is not something uncommon) and by-the-rules driving.
  2. Design & quality of autobahns – in places where you don’t have speed limit – there are usually wide 2-lane roads with low curvature and very good visibility. It’s always undergoing maintenance, which ofc can be annoying when you have to go down 80–100 from 200kmh but you know, that there is a very low probability you encounter degraded pavement – usually these places quickly become speed-limited zones and the problems are addressed.
    Very constrasting with neighboring Checz republic, for example, where there are holes and bumps on 130kmh road.
  3. Technical examination of cars from TUV/Dekra is another heavily regulated area. You cannot even install tires of less width than officially allowed (in my case 215 vs 225 already made a case).
  4. Heavy fines
    While most of the fines are not tied to the income (e.g. bußgeld), a plenty of them can not only eat your budget but also give you Flensburg points. 8 points and you loose your license, and then you have to undergo MPU test (famous “Idiotentest”). That makes people obey the rules, so if you see “30” sign, everybody will drive 30.P.S. Autobahns are one of the most beautiful feats of Germany. Many things work wrong here, but this thing is simply amazing. nowhere in the world you can legally go as much as your vehicle is able.

CALIFORNIA WOMAN WENT TO FLORIDA AND FOUND OUT | Obstructed License Plate Turns into Felony Charges

Californian meets Florida. Real talk.

I had a piano student named Lynn, who was very intelligent.

She worked for the Department of Education in eastern Canada.

Lynn was extremely health conscious.

She followed a nearly perfect diet, and exercised regularly.

Lynn ‘speed walked’ to her piano lessons.

She began to complain about a pain in her right side.

Over a five month period, Lynn repeatedly went to the doctor, who assured her it was a ‘pulled muscle’.

When she finally got a second opinion, the ‘pulled muscle’ turned out to be cancer, which had eaten away part of one of her ribs.

Lynn was alone in the city.

Her husband had died of cancer a few years prior to her diagnosis.

He was a surgeon, and they had saved a large amount of money for retirement.

Lynn was slated to retire at the end of the school year, eight months from her cancer diagnosis.

She and her late husband had planned to travel around the world, and enjoy their golden years together.

Lynn my student, became Lynn my friend.

I became her confidante.

The hospital was less than a ten minute drive from my studio.

I went to visit Lynn during my dinner breaks, and before bedtime.

She told me if she could relive her life, she wouldn’t be on committees because it ‘was expected’ of her.

She wouldn’t do ANYTHING out of guilt or the expectations of others.

Lynn shared her regret of wasted precious time spent at meetings and social ‘obligations’.

I told her that I was going to resign from everything that wasn’t meaningful in my life.

My wise student thanked me for keeping her company in the hospital.

Her last words to me were, “Remember Gail, there are no guarantees in this life.”

Lynn died the following day.

Since Lynn’s death, I have been very selective about how and with whom I spend my time.

Immediately following her passing, I resigned from everything except a music association and The Animal Rescue League, two passions in my life.

Being aware of the value of time is invaluable!

$10 vs $50 Buffet | Vietnam

My first experience was with a Toyota RAV4 – I had test-driven the vehicle a week before, so I called the dealership and told them exactly which one I wanted and how long it would take me to get to their lot.

It took ONE HOUR AND 15 MINUTES!!! They knew exactly which car it was; they had it there at the front of their lot; I had already negotiated price; all they had to do was have the paperwork ready! But instead they kept trying to sell me more add-on’s and “things I needed” – and I kept saying “No” until they finally got to the bottom line and took my check.

My second experience was when I bought my wife a Ford Fiesta – again, I had already test-driven the vehicle earlier that week, and I knew which one we were going to get. I told the salesman, “Last time I purchased a car with cash, it took 1 hour 15 minutes. Can you beat that time?”

I was able to drive the car out 47 minutes later.

It still is ridiculous how long it takes to pay cash for a car, but the reality is that the car price is NOT how the dealership makes its money. They get their profit from the financing, the extended warranties, and lots of other little add-on’s that raise the bottom line. I know now NOT to tell them that I’m paying cash until LATE in the process (negotiate the Out-the-door price first, and THEN bring up any trade-in’s and that you’re paying cash). I don’t begrudge the dealer making a profit, but I don’t like them wasting my time with things I have already said “No” to.

(By the way, I still have the RAV4 – 164,000 miles later, and still running great!)

U.S. sanctions on Chinese high-tech companies are no longer news, but a recent sanction has taken everyone by surprise—the common “san bengzi” (three-wheeler) electric tricycles found in rural China have been deemed high-tech products by the U.S. and become targets of sanctions.

Trike
Trike

These tricycles, which cost only about 3,000 yuan (approx. $460), are referred to as “low-speed electric vehicles” by the U.S. Department of Commerce. On July 11, the U.S. announced anti-dumping and countervailing duty investigations on these vehicles, with preliminary decisions expected in August and November this year.

The origin of this situation is quite interesting. Early last year, an American blogger spent $3,000 to purchase a Chinese-made three-wheeler online. Upon receiving it, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the vehicle performed well: it could travel 60 kilometers on a single charge, required no registration, and had zero emissions. After he shared his experience online, it caused a sensation. Americans discovered that these vehicles were particularly suitable for use on large farms, and more economical and affordable than traditional pickup trucks.

Subsequently, U.S. demand for Chinese three-wheelers surged. Chinese companies quickly responded, even offering customization services. The selling price in the U.S. also rose, reaching $5,000 to $12,000. Besides three-wheelers, similar golf carts and sightseeing vehicles also became popular in the U.S.

This situation displeased U.S. automakers.

They petitioned the Department of Commerce, claiming that Chinese products were being dumped at low prices in the U.S. market, distorting the market. More surprisingly, U.S. automakers claimed that the dumping margin for Chinese three-wheelers was as high as 477%. In other words, they believed that a three-wheeler selling for $12,000 in the U.S. should cost around $50,000 to produce, implying that the Chinese government was subsidizing each vehicle by over $40,000.

This claim is laughable.

A product that sells for only 3,000 yuan in China, even if sold for $12,000 in the U.S., is already overpriced. How could it possibly be considered dumping? Not to mention the alleged $40,000 subsidy.

The president of Club Car, the largest golf cart manufacturer in the U.S., claimed that Chinese imports have rapidly increased, taking advantage of government subsidies to gain a larger market share. However, according to U.S. Department of Commerce data, the total value of related products imported from China in 2023 was only $440 million, a small figure for both countries.

This sanction reflects that the U.S. vigilance towards Chinese manufacturing has reached a new height. Previously, sanctions were imposed on high-tech products like 5G and drones, but now even rural three-wheelers “qualify”. However, even if the U.S. imposes high tariffs, Chinese companies have ways to cope, such as assembling or rebranding in third countries.

In conclusion, this incident makes one sigh: the threshold for “harming U.S. industries” in American eyes is getting lower and lower. Even products from township enterprises can attract sanctions, truly giving people a new perspective on the current state of U.S. industrial strength.

How The A-10’s Avenger Cannon Went From Terrible To Terrifying

Yes. I was in my early 50s and woke up one morning with a nagging ache in my left arm. I went to work and commented that I must have slept wrong. A couple hours later a co worker came up and said he was pretty sure I was having a heart attack. I laughed, no, just a stiff muscle.

An hour later he came over and told me I needed medical care. I argued and he said I should try one of his nitro tablets. If I wasn’t having a heart attack it wouldn’t hurt me, but if I was having a heart attack the pain would go away.

Now I have never taken someone else’s prescription meds in my life, and have no idea why I did then, but I agreed to try the nitro.

The pain disappeared almost immediately but came back twice as bad a few minutes later.

I drove myself to the hospital and was in an ambulance being transferred three hours away shortly. I was having a heart attack.

An angiogram and a stent and I thought everything was good.

Two weeks later I was back in an ambulance heading back to the hospital to repeat the procedures.

Two weeks later it was the middle of December and I had my post-op checkup.

My mom and I hadn’t finished Christmas shopping yet, and this was a trip to a place with lots of shopping available, so we went early in the morning, shopped for hours and I went to see the cardiologist.

He showed me the pictures from my most recent angiogram and said everything looked perfect, then he asked how I was doing.

I said I felt great, just a little short of breath when I went outside, but it was way below 0 Fahrenheit so I though it was to be expected. The cardiologist told me I was too young to be having problems and he wanted to schedule another angiogram for the next morning. I talked to my mom, told her I didn’t see any need to go through this again, but she encouraged me to go ahead with the procedure so we could all enjoy the holidays.

So, we checked into a hotel for the night and got a shuttle to the hospital in the morning.

When I woke up in recovery, my mom was sitting with me crying. A strange man I had never seen before walked in and in broken English said, “You have triple bypass in five days.”

I was shocked and asked why. He said we had to wait five days to get the blood thinners out of my system.

Now, my mom doesn’t drive in winter and it was snowing. I had lots of kids at home and I wasn’t ready for Christmas so I asked when I needed to be back at the hospital. I knew my insurance wouldn’t cover 5 days lying in a hospital bed getting no treatment, so I figured I’d drive mom home, finish decorating, wrap the last presents and for back for the surgery.

He looked at me and said, “What you don’t understand. You leave, you die. “

I still expected to be discharged because I felt fine and I KNEW insurance wouldn’t cover all those days of lyng around.

Insurance approved the doctor’s orders.

That’s when I realized I was really having a problem.

I still don’t understand exactly what happened, but somehow in the two weeks after the angiogram I went from basically no blockage to what they call the widow maker.

Apparently I was lucky to live through the shopping trip.

So I had triple bypass surgery Christmas Eve, and we celebrated late that year.

Interstellar – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

“How successful do female police officers tend to be at arresting men?”

Ooh, I have a great war story for this one! Early in my career I was backing up a city officer on a traffic stop. In fact, there were three of us cops there, all men, all pretty decent size. The suspect, it turns out, was drunk and needed to go to jail. He had a child in the car as well.

So, this suspect was. . .really big. Not fat. Big. The three of us could have taken him down if necessary, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. Also, his kid was still there, in the car. Who wants to beat up dad in front of his kid, even if he is a stupid drunk?

Anyhow, the three of us were standing in a semi-circle around the guy, with him backed up against his truck. We were doing the cop thing were we try to keep a balance between the “carrots” (just come with us and we don’t have to fight) and the “sticks” (if we have to fight, we’re going to all three gang up and pound you). Usually, that routine works like a charm, no pounding necessary. It wasn’t working this time though.

This guy was getting more and more scared. More and more mad. More and more ready to fight to the finish.

So, all tricks failing, we were starting to exchange glances with one another, getting ready to dive in and try to pin this guy down and handcuff him. Just then, another squad car pulls up. Out steps a female deputy. It took about 10 seconds for her to take in the situation, figure out what was going on, and notice the kid in the drunk’s car.

She lit into that guy. I mean, she absolutely chewed his ass up one side and down the other, calling him every name you can imagine, and some you can’t, to describe a cretin stupid enough to drive drunk with a kid in the car. The whole time, she modulated her high-pitched voice to sound as much like a stereotypical “nagging woman” as possible. She went on and on and on, calling the guy names, calling his parentage into question. Honestly, I started to feel embarrassed for the guy.

When she first started her tirade, us three guys had instinctively put ourselves between her and this drunk. A punch to her face would be much more likely to cause serious damage than a punch to our faces. As she continued to verbally rip his guts out, we sort of instinctively backed off. I didn’t realize it until afterwards when I recalled the scene, but as she went on and on, us three guys just sort of naturally and unconsciously drifted back until she was between the suspect and us. I even remember one of the other cops ending up staring at the ground and sort of idly scuffing the road with his foot, exactly like a kid watching his friend getting chewed out by mom.

Now, before that female deputy’s arrival, I’m pretty sure the guy was in such a state that he would have punched me right in the mouth if I had called him just one of the names she used. However, he just stood there and took it from her. As she went on and on and on, somehow never even pausing to breathe, his head started to droop, his shoulders started to sag, and then. . .I saw a small shudder.

What?

You must be kidding me!

Yes. It was true. This big, big drunk man who was seconds away from fighting three big cops had been reduced to tears by a female cop who did her best nagging woman routine. He was absolutely crushed. She ordered him to go see one of the male officers to be searched, and he did it meekly. Then she ordered him into her squad car. Didn’t even bother to handcuff him.

He sat in the back of that car and just cried the entire time while we waited for his wife to come pick up the kid and a for a tow truck to come pick up the car. By the time he was hauled off to jail, us male cops were acting sort of embarrassed and apologetic toward him. You know how it is, kind of hard to make eye contact because you feel so bad for the guy.

Everybody who wants to be a cop, male or female, has to figure out how to arrest uncooperative people who have the ability to beat them senseless. I’m not a small guy, but I occasionally still come up against people who could, without a doubt, beat me like I was a child. Does anyone think a guy who has been doing hands-on construction work all day, every day, for 10 years isn’t stronger than a cop who gets his muscles in a gym? You learn ways to deal with it. Female officers are no different. They just have to face a higher percentage of people who could beat them.

When I was a brand new emt, I ran exactly once.

I tripped on a pothole and sprained my ankle badly. I was left behind by the crew as they had a more seriously ill patient to tend to. They did toss me a cold pack, with a look of disgust I will never forget. A supervisor eventually came for me, also with that look, and drove me to the emergency department. He advised me he would clock me out, to find my own way home, he was taking me off the months schedule and let them know when I had medical clearance to work again to call them, maybe they will have an opening.

When I was able to return, two months later, I was given granny runs for quite a while. When finally put back on emergency runs, it was with their best/worst trainer, Mr. Marty Ward. It says a lot that I still remember his name. He was and still is a very experienced, extremely knowledgeable, no bullshit kind of guy. He is the reason I eventually became a good paramedic.

You don’t run because if you hurt yourself you are useless . You don’t run because you need to take in the scene. Is it safe. How many victims. What’s your mechanism of injury. Where’s your nearest exit. What’s the crowd like. Where should you put your supplies.

They only look like they are casually walking, when in fact they are working all the time. Twenty years later I still survey my surroundings.

And if you ever do see one running and they are first on the scene, good bet they are brand new with a lot to learn. I’ll wait for the guy walking, thanks.

Chad Lehrmann

“HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT UP, KARL!”Bert had had it.  Too much time in the vacuum of space, too much time in close quarters.  Too much cleaning and sauerkraut. Seriously, who eats that stuff?“HOW ABOUT YOU MAKE ME, BERT, YOU AMERICAN PIG!”Karl was done, too.  The American was arrogant, prideful and sloppy.  Then he was a clutz, too. That’s why they were here now, in space, with the gravitational controls out of function, floating.Not just the capsule.Them.

Floating.

In the capsule.

“FINE- HERE IT COMES!”

Bert pulled back his fist for an epic haymaker, and Karl prepared his fist for an equally devastating uppercut.  Both men threw their hardest punch at each other and–

Well, they are floating weightless in space, so, since they were about five feet apart when this started, it will take a minute for the punches to drift together.  So. Let’s take a look at how we got here.

Bert and Karl both signed up for a new International Space Hub mission to the dark side of the moon.  It was a chance for these two brilliant scientists- who on paper were a perfect fit for each other to do important scientific work for the betterment of humanity.

Or something like that.

It was a photo-op for the newly minted International Space Hub to show it was A) actually international despite being headquartered in Florida and B) capable of actually getting into space.

Their first seven rockets had not gotten so far as the atmosphere- one had literally just fallen off the launchpad.  Turns out the boosters were uneven.

While we are at it- Karl and Bert were not so much brilliant scientists as they were looking for a way out of a bad relationship and harboring a mild death wish, respectively.  And ISH needed warm, preferably semi-intelligent bodies.

They did match up on paper, though, and when ISH held the press conference it was all smiles, handshakes and bro-hugs.  The men laughed and joked about old US and German rivalries and what constituted real football. We should have seen it then, though.  There were cracks. Like when Bert made the comment about “only animals eat wet, soggy grass like Germans eat sauerkraut,” and Karl gave the sidest-eye of all side eyes. Or when Karl explained how he hated people- like, all of them- so the loneliness wouldn’t be a factor.

But hey, that’s just cultural differences?

Right?

ISH finally got a rocket to work, and the men went up into space. Bert was silently disappointed they survived, and really, so was Karl’s ex.  Now the mission was for a full year, and by the end of day two, there were issues.

In day one, Karl had baked traditional German streusel- and Bert LOVED it.  But in day two, Karl walked in to find a situation not at all to his liking.

“Um, Bert.  You, you haff left your dirty deeshes out.  If you vant me to make you some more streusel, you are going to haff to be more tidy!”

Bert slowly turned his head and cocked his eyebrow.  “Say what now? I am a grown man, don’t talk to me like a child.  And I may not want anymore of your dry and tasteless streusel,” he said as he secretly stuffed the wrapped up leftovers in his jumpsuit pocket.

Karl made a clicking noise with his tongue.  “Ah, you haff misunderstood. I am not saying you are like a child.  I am implying zat you are a child. And vun zat does not haff the capacity to appreciate fine German foods.”

“Is this about the sauerkraut line?”

“Maybe….”

The next day, the slippery slope continued.

Literally.

Bert walked in on Karl’ reorganizing the chemical locker.  “What are you doing?”

“I am reorganizing the cabinet so zat it makes sense to me.”

“No, you are messing up a good system.”

“You would not know a good system unless it vas named Playstation or Xbox.”

“Ohh!  Somebody knows some American cultu-u-ur-ooooo!” Bert’s feet flew out from under him and he crashed down on his back on the sterile, white floor.  “Karl, WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FREAK DID YOU DO?!?!”

“I cleaned up a spill I found from your beverage last night.”

“Ugh…did you think to put a “wet floor” sign up?”

“Hmmm.  Zat would be a good idea for next time.  Ooooor, you could clean it up as soon as you make the mess, no?”

Before we go further, let’s check back on our epic throwdown.

Well, they are about a foot closer, mostly due to Bert paddling his other hand in a dog paddle fashion.  So, we have more time.

Back and forths on cleaning aside, they managed to get work done.  But a peculiar habit of Karl’s emerged.

Talking in his sleep.

At first, it was an irritant.  They shared a sleeping quarters, so there was no escaping the noise.  Bert would be angry and irritable at breakfast, and invariably, Karl would announce- “I slept like I vas a baby!  How did you sleep, Bert?”

Bert would grumble an inappropriate word or two and the day would go on.

Then it got weird.

One night, Bert was already awake from the incoherent mumbling when Karl sat bolt upright in bed and screamed:  “GIVE HER ALL ZE CAPITALIST PIGS!” Then he slumped back down and went to bed.

Bert feared bringing it up at breakfast, but after completing a series of tests that morning involving highly combustible (and potentially deadly) chemicals, Bert felt a need to clear the air.

“So, about the sleep talking.  Now, I don’t mind, mostly, but last night you screamed ‘GIVE HER ALL ZE CAPITALIST PIGS!’ and I gotta ask- what the ever-loving heck is up with that?”

“I screamed “GIVE HER ALL ZE CAPITALIST PIGS!’ last night?  In my sleep?”

“Yes, you screamed, “GIVE HER ALL ZE CAPITALIST PIGS!’ in your sleep.”  Last night. Next to my bed. At three in the morning. In the dark.”

“It must haff been a movie I saw vonce.  I don’t have any other reason why I– VAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“What?  I’m making a freeze dried hot dog.”

“Nein.  You are ruining a freeze dried hot dog vith zat, zat, disgusting processed cheese from a can!”

The squelch of the yellow substance leaving the can continued for a second as Bert stared at Karl with dead eyes.  “Really? Sauerkraut is delicious but good old American cheese from a can is disgusting?”

“Again, I am sorry.  I misspoke. That, that…stuff…is inedible.  You are disgusting.”

“Oh yeah! Well how about you tell me to my face?”

This lovely interaction was interrupted by a screeching alarm indicating an evasive maneuver was needed to avoid space trash.  They did not speak that day, and went to bed in silence.

Bert woke in the middle of the night to see Karl standing beside his bed staring at him, sleepwalking.

“KAAAARLLL!”

Karl twitched and slurred, “Huh?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Karl seemed to become aware of his location.  “Oh, sorry.” Then he climbed back in bed. That instigated the decision to stagger sleeping schedules.

Time to check back in on the punch- yep.  Almost there. Karl is kicking his feet like he’s running in place- should get there soon.

That brings us to the latest- and last inciting incident.

Bert was a slob.  This was true in the truest sense of the word.  He left clothes everywhere, and he left a trail of crumbs and spills wherever he went.  Karl continued to warn him about spilling on the expensive and vital equipment. Bert continued to speak in sign language that engaged one finger.

During one of the shift changes, Karl noticed a dark liquid was covering some of the gravitational control switches. The things that gave them gravity inside the capsule.  He began to berate Bert for his messiness and his carelessness when it came to the critical technology they needed to survive.

“I didn’t do it!  I swear! You’re the one who insists on beer everyday- not me!”

“Ah, but I am careful to clean up any mess I make.  You? You think zat is vat I am here for!”

A small spark shot up behind Karl from the board.

“Well, yeah I leave it for you.  It’s the only thing seem capable of doing that we both agree on! So, why don’t you clean it up now!”

“I am done being your maid!  And you know what- zat thing I said in my sleep- it vas not from a movie- it was my fantasy of getting rid of you!”

There was a bigger spark.

“Bad news broski- we are stuck together for the rest of the trip!”

“Vat is this ‘broski?’ I am not Russian.  I am German you arrogant American!”

“I’m arrogant?  I’m arrogant? You self righteous–”

There was a loud pop, a small flame and suddenly they were floating in zero gravity.

“LOOK VAT YOU HAFF DONE, YOU CLUTZ!” screamed a defiant Karl.

And that brings us to the start of the story.  Now is as good of a time as any to explain that ISH had really messed up.  The black liquid was oil that had seeped up and shorted out the control. In addition, they had pre-programmed the capsule to fly in a certain pattern, but had not actually bothered to confirm that their calculations were correct.

They were not.

In truth, the capsule was well off course, and headed directly for the sun.

Now, that epic punch should be about to happ- Oh!

Yeah, they missed and are trying to turn around to attack again.  Maybe you should check back in a month or two.

Maybe they will have it together by then.

Apple Bacon Cinnamon Rolls

Maple, bacon and cinnamon rolls; the ultimate trifecta for your weekend brunch.

apple bacon cinnamon rolls
apple bacon cinnamon rolls

Prep: 15 min | Bake 30 min

Ingredients

  • 6 Rhodes Cinnamon Rolls or 6 Anytime Cinnamon Rolls, dough thawed but still cold
  • 12 pieces fully cooked microwaveable bacon
  • 3 large apples, sliced

Instructions

  1. Unroll each partially thawed cinnamon roll. Twist two unraveled cinnamon rolls together.
  2. Place the bacon and apple along the twisted rolls and roll them up together.
  3. Bake according to package instructions.
  4. Add Rhodes cream cheese frosting while the rolls are still warm.

Poverty NO CHOICE: “Can I show you…?”

The one time I went to court over a speeding ticket, there were something like 3 cases before mine. Most took about 10 minutes or so, for the magistrate to ask what happened, ask the city attorney/police if they agreed, about what happened, and so on.

But then we get to the last one just before mine. To set this up, you probably need to know that at the time, they’d recently changed part of Tejon Street in downtown Colorado Springs (where all this took place) from being a 1-way to a 2-way street.

The guy ahead of me started by saying he was very sorry, and just got confused. The judge started to say he was going to reduce the ticket to a minimum charge, but the guy didn’t notice, and instead went on to say he was confused because of the change from 1-way to 2-way street. That probably only took him 10 seconds to say, but the consequences were pretty serious, to say the least.

The judge started to say something about how sympathetic he was for problems caused by the change, but then looked at the ticket again, and said: “Wait a sec…this was a half mile north of where that change happened. Don’t ever lie in my court. Maximum charges, full points on your license, and you get to spend tonight in jail for perjury.”

He never asked the city attorney/police for their side of the story or anything else. Probably less than 2 minutes start to finish.

Not that I desire to wear a “tin foil hat”; but some things are not “adding up”.

The rifle that the shooter used was not an everyday, run of the mill, Walmart special. Nor was it a hunting rifle. It was a military-grade sniper rifle that is extremely expensive.

It’s an AXSR rifle.

The shooter was 20 years old. Heck, when I was $20 years old I couldn’t afford payment on a car, let alone a custom, high end, sniper rifle.

One Saturday, I was at work serving lunch to our hard-working engineers and their families as we were in a desperate sprint to finish some software prior to our big annual trade show. We planned this to both recognize the team’s superhuman efforts, and give the engineers some much deserved time to see their loved ones.

A young woman employee approached me and said, “Gerry, I have a problem. Can I talk with you a moment privately?” I said, “Of course,” put down my serving utensils and walked over into a corner away from the crowd. She then said, “I just won $6 million in the lottery, and I don’t know what to do.” (note: this was 1990, so worth more than double that today)

My first reaction was, “This is a good problem!” But then went on to tell her, “Go get your phone number unlisted. Then decide you will do nothing, and I mean nothing important financially for a month or two, at a minimum. Get your bearings. Hire a reputable accountant and law firm. I can recommend a few if you like. And then do nothing. After things have settled down, decide what you want to do with your life, make a plan so that whatever happens that money lasts for the rest of your life. And then, go be happy with your good fortune!”

What I didn’t know, since I had not met her before, was that she was recently divorced and had recently lost 100 pounds. So, here she was: newly single, newly slim and newly rich!

She resigned from our company after a bit, and I lost track of her until we ran into each other in a restaurant a few years later. She told me she had found her passion in motivational speaking, inspiring others to go for their dreams and could not have been happier with her life.

Sometimes, nice things happen to nice people! The money didn’t change her, it revealed her.

The death of innocence

There are many things an officer will see and experience which will stay with them for life. Here are three scenes that significantly impacted my view of the world.

Scene 1: The murder:

Today, a young gangster saw a rival gang member sitting with his family on his front porch. The two clearly are enemies. This gangster then rides on the back of a motorcycle past the house firing multiple rounds from a semi-automatic handgun at the porch. The gang member on the porch is uninjured, but a bullet strikes his mother in the head and immediately kills this, heavyset church-going woman. This happens right in front of her three other young children.

I’m just reporting in for work when the incident occurs. As the night watch commander, I am directed to respond to the scene and take control.

I arrive and have the scene taped off and secured. I also close the roadway and divert traffic, as it is part of my crime scene. Bullet casings litter the roadway from the gunfire. I have the woman’s body covered with a sheet and have arrangements made to get the children away from their dead mother. Witnesses identify the cyclist and the bike.

Once the immediate decisions are made and later when I review the events in my mind how do I make any sense of this, tragic murder? How do these children deal with what they have just witnessed? For me, the senseless loss of life was never something I could easily distance myself from. Some images like those children with their dead mother, you never forget.

Scene 2: The Innocent:

It’s eight am and I am just starting agency training with a newly hired lateral transfer officer. I get a call in my office that I should head over to the scene of a pedestrian motor vehicle crash. The patrol commander says it will be a good experience for my rookie officer. Upon arrival, I learn that it was a little eight-year-old girl running to catch the school bus because she didn’t want to miss school, and the back wheel of the bus caught the side of the girl’s foot forcing her forward onto the roadway before the buses back tires pass over the child’s head. The child lays in the street while people try to take pictures and seagulls swoop down and pick at her remains. You can’t get these pictures out of your head. You can’t un-see these horrible things, as much as I would like to, you just can’t.

Scene 3: The boy and his father:

I’ve been with several young people just before they died from car crash injuries. Cops are always the first on the scene of the most terrible events. I have seen the terror in a young boy’s eyes while pinned in a car. He was pinned so severely, that even though I told him help was on the way and he would be fine, I think we both knew the truth. I stayed with him for about two minutes before he exhaled making a gurgling sound and passed. He had to be cut out of the car, later that night at the local body shop.

This boy’s father showed up at the scene a few minutes after he died. We had draped a sheet over that part of the car and awaited the arrival of the medical examiner. The father was hysterical, as I probably would have been. It was so hard to experience, seeing this man’s pain.

He wanted very badly to go to the car, and I kept telling him he didn’t want to see his son right now. We had to gently yet physically restrain this father with a bear hug, to stop him from going to the car. I said he could see his son at the hospital. I didn’t want that father to see what I had seen, a crushed and mangled body, barely recognizable which was his son.

I used to say each time I experienced this type of traumatic event a small piece of me died inside. You learn to cope, and you learn to control your emotions at least on the outside. But they are always with you, and I can still see them. This is the darkest side of police work.

She Is Trying To Trap Men Into a Sexual Harassment Case & It’s OBVIOUS

20 years ago I divorced, and bought a little house where I expected to live out my days. Two years after I moved in, my sister’s relationship ended. She was quite distraught. Her hope was that I would buy a bigger house, closer to her work, and we could live together. I REALLY didn’t want to do this. I talked her into renting an apartment while she decided what she was going to do. She did it and hated it without giving it a chance. She was a basket case and in an effort to save her, I agreed to buy a house and live together. Before we did anything, and knowing she could be a prude, I told her that I had no plans to stop smoking pot and if she had a problem with that it couldn’t work. She said it didn’t bother her at all. So I gave up my house, bought another one, and we both moved in. She was cranky from the beginning. I did everything possible to make her happy. Four months after moving in, my sister announced that as soon as she got her money from her house she was moving out. She was supposed to give me that money as her down payment on the house, and she was supposed to begin making payments. She did neither and I ended up taking a big loss on the house. Not only did my sister screw me over on the money, she told the entire family, including our parents, that she moved out because I smoked pot! I try not to hold a grudge because she’s family, but I’ll never trust her again. I still wish I lived in that house.

Valerian: Pearl Beach (A short Sci-fi Adventure inspired by Luc Besson’s Movie Valerian (2017)

Not mine but a friend’s story.

He was called in to varnish the ceiling of an Indian restaurant. The bill came to about £360 (about 25 years ago). Each time he called, the client didn’t have his cheque book or enough cash in the till, etc., etc.

After several months he enrolled the help of a large friend to accompany him and entered the restaurant when it was packed with diners. He was carrying dust sheets, a tin of varnish solvent and a step ladder. He clapped his hands and caught everyone’s attention.

“If you could all cover your meals. I’m here to get my varnish back and the stuff I’m using is toxic.”

He set up the ladder and the owner came running down to my mate asking what he was doing.

“Taking my varnish back – you’ve not paid for it. I’m taking it off.”

He told my mate to come back another time as he didn’t have his cheque book and didn’t have enough cash in the register. Wordlessly, my mate opened the tin of solvent and started to lay out the dust sheets. The owner ran back to the register and magically found the amount my mate was owed.

Many years ago, I was at work as a police detective and driving down the road. I heard a call go out for a local garage. CDS (drugs) were found in a customer’s car. I was close by so I responded and cancelled the patrol unit (they were busy and this was an easy call to handle).

When I arrived, the owner of the car was there along with the owner or the garage. Turns out, it was actually the owner who found the drugs in the car after having the car serviced and returned to the garage.

When speaking to them, I got the back story. The car had been stolen from the owners house and the owner reported it to the police. After that, a police officer encountered the car, for whatever reason, and attempted to stop the car. The car took off and then a chase was initiated. Ultimately, the car crashed and the occupants bailed out. I don’t recall if they were captured or not.

During the chase and the resulting crash, the car sustained significant damage and was towed from the scene. Once the insurance company did whatever it is they do, the vehicle was released to the owner. The owner then had it towed to the garage for repair.

The repairs were completed and the vehicle owner was contacted, who then went and picked up his car. It was shortly after leaving the garage he made the discovery.

The find? It was a ball….a little bigger than a softball, that was made of crack cocaine. I’ve never seen it sold or transported as a ball and at this point in my career, it was largest slab of crack I had ever seen.

Paycheck to Paycheck on a Six Figure Salary

Had this happen once a few years ago.

I live way out in the boonies outside town. My property is totaly OFF GRID . I built my home there is no old fashioned land lines, There is very spotty cell service where you are lucky to get 2–3 bars of service while standing on the roof. I have SAT phone and internet service.

I was living alone at the time, one night I heard a car pull up my driveway 2 officers got out came to my porch where I was sitting. They CLAIMED a 911 call came from my home. I explained that there is no phone or service and told them to check thier cell phones. explained that the only phone on the property is my SAT phone. I suggested they check with my neighbors as one of them may have called. They asked to search my home for other persons. I explained I live alone there is no one else. I asked if they were sure they had the correct address they said they were going to search anyways because I am acting nervous and suspicious. I got on my sat phone made a call then grabbed my mic for my CB/HAM radio and asked my neighbor to come over and deal with the two idiot cops. My neighbor is the county sheriff. he showed up and I told him what was happening. he handled the two local PD officers he called into the dispatch about the call and found the two officers had gone to the wrong address. dispatch sent them to an address across town a few miles away and instead of using GPS or a MAP they came down my road. the number on my mailbox was the same but the name of the road was not the one they were looking for.

While the two geniuses were headed to my home a woman on the otherside of town was raped beaten and robbed by an ex husband. He escaped that night cause the two officers went to the wrong street and were arguing with me. The woman survived her injuries spent a week in the hospital, Her ex hubby was caught a month later in another state. I got a visit from the chief of local PD a few days after where he apologized for his officers disturbing me and then said if I had just complied it would be easier. He also told me to never go over his head because the sheriff does not have jurisdiction over the town. I just laughed…… He is as stupid as his officers were.

A short time after the incident my wife and teen children moved in. 2 of my kids have since began working in law enforcement. My youngest child is headed off to college in the fall to become a lawyer.

My dad started a small manufacturing firm. His firm needed some small (1/8th HP) electric motors. They have tried very hard to use American suppliers. They found a company in South Dakota that made this type of motor. The company said that they could not guarantee delivery of the motors in a timely manner as they were having trouble finding workers for their plant. They were recruiting in Minneapolis and Omaha for folks to come work in rural South Dakota for $15 per hour. Nobody wanted to. If we are honest with ourselves, the jobs are here, we just don’t like them nor do we want to move where they are. If jobs magically did come back from China, I doubt there would be any Americans to fill them. We would have jobs in America with more undocumented workers from South America doing them. My dad’s company ended up buying motors from China.

Crying Mother cat REALLY Needed Help What Happens Next is Heartbeaking

The German Sägerücken

Rule #1 of combat. If the enemy is in range, so are you.

A sniper, if they are set up really well and don’t shoot too often, can go a long time without being found. But once they are found, then they die.

There was a situation once where a particularly well concealed sniper was shooting at American troops in Iraq. He may not have always killed his intended victim, but it was, to say the least, disconcerting for the troops in his area.

In an effort to rid themselves of this pest, the Army sent out various sniper teams to try and locate this guy. They were out for a LONG time and shot after shot was made by the sniper, but he was still impossible to find.

Then one counter-sniper saw a brick in a wall move. A single brick moved, then a shot was heard, then the brick was put back in place.

They had found him.

A sniper was sent to a position that would allow them to shoot into the hole the sniper was making when he moved that brick. A few minutes later, the brick moved, the counter-sniper shot, and the enemy sniper was dead.

His big mistake was thinking that nobody would ever see that one brick moving. So he stayed in one place and died because he was too lazy to find a new hide.

Study the laws carefully with proper Chinese translation

(Rough Translation)

There are four levels of Punishment :-

Level 1 – Any person who publishes material through a blog or electronic post advocating for Taiwanese Secession from the Mainland shall be

If younger than 18 years of age, be placed under RESTRICTIVE SURVEILLANCE until such time as the Investigator sees fit or until the person commits activities that are deemed secessionist under the security act

If older than 18 years of age or 18 years of age, shall be placed under ACTIVE SECURITY INVESTIGATION and subject to security report may be WARNED or placed under DIGITAL BLACKLIST or maybe charged with Secessionist activity under the security act

  • So here if you merely post you want Taiwanese Independence – you will either be monitored by the authorities and won’t get a Civil Service Job or a Foreign Scholarship or a Passport for maybe a decade or two
  • Or if you are an Adult – you get a warning or get placed on a Digital Blacklist meaning No access to Weibo or other Social Media Apps
  • Unless it is revealed you are funded by NGOs or other groups in which case you get charged with Secession and could face severe sentences

No Jail in either case

Level 2 – Any Person who belongs to or supports an Organization that advocates Taiwanese Secession under Lists I-IX or who has received a sum of not less than 60,000 RMB in a single year or 200,000 RMB over a longer period from such an organization without discernible services provided shall

Be sentenced to an Imprisonment of not less than 5 years which can extend upto 15 years

However any Person who has joined or expressed such support only over a period of less than 3 months shall receive a PUBLIC WARNING and if in compliance shall not be proceeded with beyond RESTRICTIVE SURVEILLANCE

  • This means if a Mainlander joins a Pro Taiwanese Organization like a foolish student,he shall get a WARNING and if he complies and backs out – he is not touched beyond the usual Restrictive Surveillance. He of course will never work for Civil Service or Get a Passport for life

Level 3 – Any Person who forms an organization within the Mainland that calls Support for Taiwanese Secession and either collects funds for the same or advocates policy and speech that is in favor of Taiwanese Secession shall

  • Be Sentenced to Death with no avenue of commutation to Life Imprisonment
  • All members of the HUKOU records of the Person shall automatically be under ACTIVE SECURITY INVESTIGATION and shall be placed under RESTRICTIVE SURVEILLANCE and Digital Blacklist and any members of the Party shall be expelled from Party Membership subject to Committee Enquiry under VII Rules
  • Any members of the HUKOU records of such a person shall if overseas be recalled immediately and after a recall notice period of 60 days shall be categorized under Level III Security Act
  • This is the changed law. The new law where if anyone forms an organization that calls for Taiwanese Secession and collects funds or makes speeches in favor of Taiwan. THEY WILL BE EXECUTED WITHOUT MERCY OR COMMUTATION TO LIFE
  • Their family members will be investigated and if members of the CPC may be expelled or if overseas shall be recalled and if they don’t come within 60 days- they will be deemed security threats and can even be KILLED ON FOREIGN SOIL

This is the New change in the law. Earlier it was 25 Years to Life with NO DEATH PENALTY

Level 4 – Any Person who is accomplice to or instigator of an Act of Physical Violence or Terrorism on the Mainland or Mainland Sovereign Territory in any Country that causes at least 500,000 RMB of Damage or a loss of one or more lives shall be

  • Sentenced to Death with Commutation possible only for persons who can prove lack of knowledge of the activities and who had no further role
  • All members of the HUKOU records of the Person shall automatically be subjected to the NATIONAL RELOCATION ACT and SECURITY DETENTION ACT
  • Any members of the HUKOU records of such a person shall if overseas be recalled immediately and after a recall notice period of 7 days shall be categorized under Level III Security Act
  • Any Separatist who causes Violence in China or Embassies that cause 500K of physical damage or loss of even one person shall be executed without mercy
  • This Law is so tough that IF YOU ARE A LANDLORD WHO RENTED A HOUSE TO SUCH PEOPLE – YOU WILL GET LIFE IMPRISONMENT WITHOUT MERCY
  • Families of such persons shall be deported to labor camps and kept there for life including Children

Both Parents or All Guardians will face the same sentence if their Kids younger than 18 are charged and convicted under this act

So if a 17 year old kid blows up a Molotov cocktail killing someone, the Parents will be executed under the New Law unless they inform on their kid leading to a conviction of the Kid in which case they get fully exonerated by the State


So the only new change is that now anyone who forms an organization to support Taiwanese Independence shall be executed without mercy and their families shall be prevented from doing a lot of things

  • Their Kids can never go abroad
  • Their families can never live within 300 Kms of any place with Security facilities
  • Their families can never get a Passport
  • Their families can never work for the Government of China
  • Their families can never work for a Strategic Industry in any capacity
  • Their families can never join the PLA or PLAAF or PLAN

Families include – Parents, Children, Wife, Consort, Divorced Wife is Divorce is less than 5 years old, Siblings, Wives of Siblings, Children of Siblings, Grandchildren, Great Grandchildren

So if one guy does it – upto 40–50 people can suffer for no fault of their own


Now here is something the West didn’t tell you

The Law also excludes people:-

Exclusion:-

The Security Law shall NOT regard the following persons as culpable under it and shall deem them law abiding. This includes :-

  • Any person who reports possible secessionist activities of any family member under the Hukou system
  • Any Person who has relatives in Taiwan and declares the same
  • Merely because a person has visited Chinese Taipei does not put a person under the purview of the Act unless such person visited Taipei in contravention of existing emigration procedures
  • No person who merely posts secessionist content on behalf of another person and can establish the same, be charged under this act
  • Merely indicating support for DPP in Taiwan or for Leaders of the DPP is insufficient to be charged under this Act

So you can call William Lai a Hero and nothing will happen to you


So only three areas are DRACONIAN

First is that family members also suffer for no fault of their own , something that was removed off statuette since the death of Mao Tse Tung and reintroduced in 2009 for Xinjiang only

Second – Kids can inform on their parents and Parents must inform on their Kids to avoid being charged. So a son who sees his father work for Taiwan must report him and watch him be executed to survive and so must a father

Three – Execution is the only course now. No commutation to life. You get convicted, you die

This wasn’t the case previously


So while the new laws are draconian to a good extent – they allow a lot of leeway unlike India

In India someone saying Pakistan Zindabad can be charged with UAPA

In China now clearly – just because you hail DPP or William Lai won’t make you culpable at all. You will not even be touched.

I hate it.

I hate having to make an appointment. I hate filling out those stupid review of systems files that the doctor never seems to have bothered looking at by the time I get to talk to them. I hate that the doctor is always late, but that the staff will give me shit about it if I’m late. I hate having to ask someone else to write me a prescription for something I already know I need. And, most of all, I hate being lectured about what I need to do for my health.

Go away! Shut up. I already know this stuff. LEAVE ME ALONE! I’m a freakin’ doctor, too, dammit.

That’s a polite rendition of my inner monologue when a doctor tells me what I need to do. So, most of the time, I avoid going to the doctor’s office. If I know I want something, I write myself a prescription—yes, you can do that, as long as it’s not a controlled substance. If it doesn’t take care of my problem, then and only then will I seek medical care.

I’m young enough that I can get away with it, because I don’t yet have serious medical issues. For now, there are very specific circumstances under which I will go see a doctor:

  1. I need to see a specialist for a problem well above my pay grade.
  2. I know that some test needs to be ordered. I can’t order a hip X-ray or lab test for myself, for instance.

Even then, if I can get away with it, I’ll go to the Urgent Care center, because I hate making appointments.

“If you treat yourself as a doctor, you’ll have an idiot for a patient.”

I’ve heard variations of these over the years. Fine, I’m an idiot, then. I don’t care. I’ll be damned if I’ll go see a doctor unless I absolutely have to.

Don’t try this at home, kids.

I Dumped My Girlfriend And Ended Her Best Friend’s “Perfect” Open Marriage, Now EVERYONE Blames Me

Yes. When having sepsis, the initial diagnosis by the ER doctor who didn’t even bother to look at me was “ your depression acting up”. Never mind my high fever, renal colic pain and failure, my inability to breathe, vomiting and repeated fainting, it must be all in my head! Fortunately my blood results changed his mind.

Blood tests were ordered after I did some yelling on the topic of me going to another hospital( which was quite near) and then coming back to kick his a**.

Very recently my elderly mom has suffered from lower back pain for 2 months straight. No meds helped, she frequently vomited, could hardly walk and couldn’t sleep because of the pain. She was ordered basically every test known, going through gastroenterology ( yeah, she has post inflammatory narrowed esophagus), urology/nephrology, orthopedia. Urine tested, blood tested. She was told she was fine, nothing was wrong. Until a CAT scan was performed. Showed 3 fractured vertebraes caused by foreign mass.

After giving birth , I cried through the night because of a terrible pain. Was told by the nurse on duty that “ G, you have birth vaginally, we only give pain meds to women recovering from C-section, it can’t hurt you”. Had multitude of stitches( forgot to count after an hour of them sewing me back together) due to 4th degree tear and an F broken coccyx! I couldn’t sit, walk or lay down without that pain for 4 months. But I guess it was just me being too sensitive.

Since we’re both women, we have plenty of those experience. Let’s group them under medical misogyny aka “you’re a woman, you’re overreacting”.

Ps. Let me not start on how many times I was asked if I was sure it wasn’t just a period pain. I think it was actually the first 2 years of me having recurrent kidney stones causing renal colics when my then ahole GP refused to order an ultrasound “ because I was too young to have kidney stones”.

PS 2. The most ridiculous situation actually happened when my molars rot and caused a massive infection during the last trimester of my pregnancy. At first, I went to a doctor with what seemed as a heart attack. He then moved on to whether I was having a stroke, trigeminal nerve inflammation to finally getting to “ F teeth why didn’t I think of that?”. To give him some credit, my pulse was sky high and I felt sharp pain in my jaw and neck. Teeth wouldn’t be the first guess.

My second husband was in the hospital, dying from cancer. The day before he died, I took him down stairs to smoke a cigarette. As we were sitting outside, he looked around and said, “Honey, don’t look, they’re watching me.” When I asked him what he was talking about, he said “the shadow people. They’re over there, in the woods.” I turned to look and he said “no, don’t look, they’ll get you too. I think they’re here for me” That comment sent shivers down my spine. I said “no, sweetheart, there’s no one here for you” I thought he was hallucinating because of the pain meds. He said “shut up, I have to tell you some things.” He proceeded to tell me how my life would go after he was gone. He told me that I would get remarried and that he would tell me WHOM I was going to marry. He told me I would have more children.

Now, at this point in my life I had been told that I couldn’t have any more children. I told him he was crazy and that I thought we needed to get him back up to his room.

I got him back up to his room got him in his bed and he went back to sleep. He passed away in his sleep 6 hours later.

Oh, and the things he said would happen….

They happened!

I worked with a man whose life fell apart quite dramatically over a few weeks.

He was a nice guy and I really liked him. His name was Ivor and I feel terrible about what happened to him.

He and his wife were drinking together one evening, and they started arguing. So he went to sleep in his car. A few hours later, the police knocked on his window and woke him up. Although he had not been driving, the keys were in the ignition and he had been sleeping in the driver’s seat. They breathalised him and he was still very drunk.

As they now had him for drunk driving, they had the right to search his car. In the car they found a cosh that he kept for protection. I doubt he would ever use it. But, unfortunately, they are illegal and he was now in trouble for carrying an offensive weapon.

His wife was angry at him so wouldn’t let him come home, so he had to sleep on a friend’s sofa. By the way, Ivor was not a young man, he was in his early sixties. Due to his stress, he carried on drinking. He started missing a lot of work. Which was bad. What was worse is that one day, he DID turn up to work, but very drunk. He worked for about thirty minutes, until his managers called him in the office, and after a heated argument, he was fired.

So we never saw Ivor again. This whole thing played out over about three weeks. So in three weeks, Ivor lost his wife, driver’s license, job, and got a criminal record. In his sixties.

Ivor was a good guy and he used to have foreign students stay at his house. Just before he got fired he had Japanese students, and would bring Japanese food in for us to try. I often wonder what the Japanese people staying at his house made of his meltdown.

Barbecued Brisket

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7200affd881401c4842387810d10d3cf

Ingredients

Brisket

  • 1 flat brisket

Dry Rub

  • 2 tablespoons salt
  • 2 tablespoons chili powder
  • 2 tablespoons meat tenderizer
  • 1 tablespoon pepper
  • 1/2 tablespoon garlic powder

Mop Sauce

  • 1 (10 1/2 ounce) can beef consommé
  • 1 can water
  • 1/3 cup vinegar
  • 3/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons meat tenderizer
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons dry mustard
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon paprika
  • 1 bay leaf

Barbecue Sauce

  • 1 1/2 cups Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/4 cup vinegar
  • 1/4 cup steak sauce
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 cup ketchup

Instructions

Brisket

  1. Trim any excess fat from 1 flat brisket. Rub both sides of brisket thoroughly with Dry Rub. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
  2. The next day prepare a grill so that it will smoke slowly for about 6 hours or about 1 hour per pound. Start brisket on grill with the fattest side up. Cover grill. Mop with Mop Sauce frequently during grilling. Turn brisket about every hour.
  3. Serve with warm Barbecue Sauce.

Dry Rub

  1. Mix all ingredients in small bowl.

Mop Sauce

  1. Bring beef consommé and water to boil in medium-size saucepan. Turn down heat. Add remaining ingredients. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Remove from heat.

Barbecue Sauce

  1. Place all ingredients in small saucepan. Bring to boil. Remove from heat.

Throwin rocks at a wild Polar Bear ?

Short answer – No. Long answer – HELL NO.

Even if you had a 9mm pistol (let’s say a glock)

And you were facing a polar bear and you were lucky enough to let off some rounds. Guess what ? Be prepared to make peace with whatever deity you follow and learn from the lesson and do better in the next life.

The Bear will look at you and think……. “that looks tasty …nom nom”

Most animals will back off at the sound of gunshot.

Not Polar Bears

Even if you hit them they’ll carry on charging and will get to you.

The only way to stop it was if you were very, very, very lucky and got the bullet through their eye into their brain, maybe.

But areas of instant kill with a bear charging towards you on all fours is about size of teaplate. Can you hit that repeatedly under stress ? You really do not have much time for mistakes.

Their skull is harder and thicker than a motorcycle helmet. They kill seals just by slapping them. Trying to alpha posture by standing tall and making yourself look bigger will accomplish nothing.

“I’d hide behind a rock!”

You die behind that rock.

“I’d jump into a river!”

You die wet and cold.

“I’d stand my ground and yell at the bear to frighten it”

You die faster.

There are around three thousand polar bears on the Svalbard islands; that’s more polar bears than there are humans and they are protected by Svalbard law. So they have not built up a fear of humans.

Not every animal wants to hug a human.

Until humans with BIG rifles (22 calibre ……….actually more like .444 marlin) came along, nothing hunted polar bears. Nothing. There is no scaring it off. Just look at them

Polar bears will eat each other if they’re desperate enough. So what do you think they’ll do to you ?

They’re also dangerous because they’re skilled apex predators (meaning they have no natural predators of their own) Which means, cute as they may be, the polar bear is quite functionally the great white shark of the north.

  1. They don’t hibernate.
  2. They never get cold.
  3. Food is scarce.
  4. They’re always (I repeat) ALWAYS hungry.

The bottom line is if you’re a human being on open ice in the Artic Tundra with no serious firearm or vehicle and you run into this pic below ?

You have two chances of surviving

  1. Slim
  2. None

And slim just left town

You know the striking thing about a Polar Bear when u see them in the flesh, my friend ?

They’ve got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll’s eyes.

When they come at ya, it doesn’t seem to be livin…….until they bite ya and at that point you’re not on earth anymore and the Polar bear is the last thing you’ll ever see.

And bears are omnivores (meat and plant eaters) which means unlike carnivores like tigers and lions who have the polite decency to kill you as quick as possible first then eat you.

Polar bears will just hold you down, pin you to the ground like you’re a seal or salmon and eat you while you’re alive and screaming.

They have a bite force of 1,000 psi (Pounds Per Square Inch) that’s a force strong enough to crack a bowling ball and they’ll use that to disable you, to rip off your arm or leg for a snack, you can’t even imagine the kinda force they can generate.

To a Polar Bear an average-sized human is just right for a comfortable dinner with a glass of port and a good cigar afterwards.

You dunno what you’re dealing with.

And they’re trying to get access to your organs to chew them apart, then if there’s anything left of you, put you in stash, n come back a bit later n eat some more of you.

Just a brutal way to go.

They can run at speeds of 25 mph, If that doesn’t impress you, the fastest man alive who was Usain Bolt his maximum top speed was 27 mph and they can smell you for miles (even if your under snow) and swim for 100’s of miles

And they’re smart to. Polar bear on thin ice ? No problem they know they have to spread their weight around so it’s not concentrated in one spot so as to not crack the ice.

Humans in movies : Aggressively steps on ice

There are only three things up in the Arctic: Ice, water, and potential calories. Guess which category people are in ?

A train wreck named Mary

This happened to us driving a brand new Volvo on the “Freeway” headed south from Paris a long time ago. My friend was driving at high speed, took his foot off the accelerator, and… nothing happened. He started panicking. Being the resident engineer, I calmly told him to put it in neutral and kill the engine. He then coasted off the highway onto the shoulder. I popped the hood and diagnosed the problem. The accelerator linkage had broken. I was able to do a temporary repair which got us to Lyon, where a Volvo dealer replaced the parts with profound apologies. Even in France.

Addendum – Commenters are correct that 1. You do NOT want to remove the keys or do anything to lock the steering wheel. 2. You will lose power assist on steering and brakes if you kill the engine. But brakes and steering are designed to still work, they will just require more effort without the power assist. And the emergency/parking brake will not be affected at all. In the story I told above, my friend had no trouble controlling/steering/stopping the car with the engine off. Of course, different cars will behave differently. Knowing your car’s capabilities and limitations is always helpful in an emergency. We used to practice skids in snowy empty parking lots. Knowing what to do may have saved my life once when my car started spinning on an icy highway.

Southern Biscuits and Gravy

Biscuits and gravy have been around as long as this country. Born of necessity and frugality, the dish seems to have become commonplace during the Revolutionary War. Biscuits and gravy answered the need for a hearty, high-calorie breakfast for people who worked hard, but didn’t have much money on hand.

Why Biscuits And Gravy?

The milk-based gravy was used to stretch the meat, and biscuits themselves could be made with a variety of fats. Butter was the preferred fat, particularly if the family had a cow or ready access to dairy; and if not, lard or drippings were frequently used. At first, biscuits were nothing but hard tooth-breaking lumps of flour and water, but eventually they evolved into the light and flaky tender-crumb variety made with baking powder that we enjoy today. Popular across the country, this dish is a particular favorite in the Southern United States, and you’d be hard pressed to find a restaurant where it wasn’t on the menu.

Proper Southern-style biscuits and gravy begin with homemade buttermilk biscuits. If you are planning to make this dish with grocery store biscuit dough in a pressurized cardboard tube, you will be sacrificing flavor and texture (not to mention authenticity) for convenience. As for the gravy, it will only be as good as the sausage you use. Buy a bulk breakfast sausage that you like, one that’s well seasoned, and has a decent ratio of fat to lean. Avoid the budget varieties that are almost all fat. The buttermilk you use is also important — the acidity that results from a high-quality product reacts more fiercely with baking powder, making a much lighter biscuit.

Try this authentic recipe and serve to your weekend guests — we guarantee every last bit will disappear!

biscuitsgravy
biscuitsgravy

Ingredients

  • 1/2 pound bulk pork breakfast sausage
  • 2 tablespoons chopped yellow onions
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups hot milk
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 1 batch Southern Biscuits

Instructions

  1. Heat frying pan and fry the sausage and onion until the sausage is brown and the onion clear.
  2. Drain off all grease except for 2 tablespoons.
  3. Stir in the flour and cook for just a minute.
  4. Add the hot milk. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens and then season with salt and pepper.
  5. Serve over warm opened biscuits.

Roman soldiers typically retired after 20 to 25 years of service. This wasn’t strictly about age, though if you started young, you’d still be relatively fit when you retired.

It was more about the length of service. The standard term was 25 years, but this could vary depending on the era and specific circumstances.

For example, during the time of the Roman Republic, soldiers were often citizen soldiers who served temporarily during campaigns and then returned home.

But as Rome’s military needs grew, especially under the Empire, the system evolved into a more professional standing army.

Augustus, the first Roman emperor, formalized this with his military reforms, setting the retirement standard at 25 years.

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main qimg 4561d3c62ce77a4a7b75d0815e427092 lq

Now, campaigns fought and distinguished service could influence retirement, too.

A soldier who showed exceptional bravery or skill might be granted an early discharge, a sort of “thanks for going above and beyond” reward.

One cool thing is that some soldiers received land grants upon retirement.

Augustus started this trend, giving veterans land in provinces like Gaul, Spain, and North Africa. It was a clever move, rewarding the soldiers and spreading Roman culture simultaneously.

In the late Roman Empire, Emperor Diocletian made some tweaks.

The standard service term was still around 25 years, but Diocletian, always the reformer, introduced the concept of the veteranus, a sort of semi-retirement phase where soldiers could transition out of full active duty but still serve in a support capacity.

This helped maintain experienced soldiers in the ranks without overburdening them.

Also, let’s not forget the praetorian guard, the elite troops tasked with protecting the emperor.

They had it a bit cushier compared to the legions. They usually served about 16 years before retiring with full honors and a nice pension.

Their shorter service term was partly due to the intense political nature of their job, which, let’s be honest, could be just as deadly as any battlefield.

Retirement wasn’t just a pat on the back and a “see ya!” moment.

Soldiers were often given a diploma, a bronze plaque detailing their service and granting them Roman citizenship if they weren’t already citizens.

This was a big deal, especially for auxiliary troops from the provinces. Citizenship came with legal and social perks that could significantly improve their post-service life.

Top 10 80s One Hit Wonders You Forgot Were AWESOME

The Chance

Submitted into Contest #8 in response to: Write a story about an adventure in space. view prompt

Joanna White

Jexx felt his hand being gripped as if his hand was the last lifeline left. He glanced at Avill, his wife and his eyes told her more than words from his mouth could.

“Is this really it?” she asked him. “We’re really going to Earth?”

He nodded. “We have no other choice. Our home… it’s gone. We can live in peace amongst the humans… stay hidden even. It’s for the best.”

Avill bit her lip, which trembled slightly. Whether from fear or anxiety, Jexx could only guess. The Great War had finally taken its toll on their planet, just as he suspected it would. He and his wife were part of a group of only ten survivors—out of millions. Fortunately, they all looked just like humans which would make it easier for them to blend in with the humans on earth.

Loud alarms sounded so much and for so long, Jexx’s ears popped. Red flashes drained his world of color, and he closed his eyes to shield them. He could still feel his wife’s grip, and he returned it.

Voices shouted over the loud-speaker and his heart sank when he realized the ship was malfunctioning.

“What’s going on?!” Avill yelled. Her voice was just one among others worriedly shouting over all the noise.

“The blockade… one of the ships hit ours! The engine has been damaged!” one man shouted. The rebels in the Great War had finally taken over the planet’s government, which sent the whole planet into chaos. They put up a blockade of ships to trap anyone from getting out. Jexx and his group had risked it and came out unscathed.

Or so he had believed.

The ship itself violently rocked and trembled; it was as if Jexx’s whole word had turned upside down. He stood, with difficulty, and started to follow the man into the engine room.

“Jexx!” Avill shouted. Her eyes pleaded what her voice couldn’t say. They were the color of sapphires—intriguing and as deep as an ocean.

“I have to do what I can to help.” He stared back at her, his gaze steady, attempting to reassure her. He would do what he had to if it meant what little of his people were left could survive.

She nodded, seeming to understand the deeper meaning behind his gaze and no more words were needed between them. He turned and followed the man down an endless maze of hallways. Mentally, he calculated how many people were left and where they were; there were two at the cockpit—the pilot and copilot. There were two or three men at the gunners. Then there was this man along with two others in the engine room, and he remembered that Avill was with another woman and her child.

“Where is the most damage?” Jexx asked him.

The man showed him. The engine was a sublight drive, which enabled the ship to travel into deep space. The warp core, which allowed the ship to go into hyperspace, appeared to be undamaged. The engine’s IR suppressor, which kept the sensors from getting overheated, was completely shattered.

Jexx cursed. “We won’t be able to pick up readings about the world as we travel through Earth’s atmosphere,” he said.

“And with the sensors overheating there could be damage to the landing jets.”

Jexx ran down the endless hallway. If the landing jets were damaged they wouldn’t be able to land. It seemed to take too long, but finally he arrived at the back of the engine room. The sensors had already overheated.

The landing jets were useless.

He ran back toward the front part of the room and inside, the man knelt on the floor, assessing other damage.

“How close are we to Earth?”

“We’re coming out of hyperspace now,” the man replied.

Sure enough, Jexx felt the jolt that meant they had come out of hyperspace.

“Go tell the pilot we can’t land!” As the man ran off, one of the metal pipes started to fall. If it fell, the whole engine would collapse. Jexx ran over and grabbed it, using all the strength he had to hold it up.

The man returned, looking pale faced. “We’re coming in to the planet’s atmosphere now. It appears we’re going to land in some kind of body of water and we don’t have enough speed to reach land,” the man was explaining. When he looked up and noticed Jexx, he tried to help, but Jexx pushed him away.

“Get everyone out of here! Make sure they’re gathered at the hanger bay doors, ready to jump out and swim to the surface!”

“Jexx…”

“I have to stay here to hold this up to keep it from exploding or all the lives here could be lost.”

“You’ll die,” the man said, stating the obvious.

“Just tell my wife I love her. Get out of here!”

When the man left, Jexx grunted under the weight of the metal pipe, but he forced himself to hold its weight.

In those final moments, it was as if time had stopped completely. Jexx could see the parts of the engines around him, some even as tall as the buildings back home. He could smell oil and something bitter and he could taste metal in his mouth. The ship rocked and hit something hard. When the walls burst open, his ears felt as if they were splitting open as the water came crashing through. The taste of metal in his mouth turned to water and he could fill it spilling over his ankles.

His legs.

Waist.

Chest.

Mouth.

The taste consumed him and his lungs fought for hair, but he held on. He couldn’t let the pipe fall and cause the engine to explode; he had to give the others time to get out.

He could only hope he gave them enough time.

He thought of his home, of his wife and their unborn child before water consumed him and he finally gave in, finally opened his mouth and let the water swim down his throat, blocking his airway.

His last thoughts were of his wife and child, and the chance they had to live.

This is going to sound ridiculously stupid and it was. But it was the Barbie movie. That was the final snap.

My best friend and I had been friends for 15 years. We went through thick and thin together, I helped her through her parents divorce allowing her to vent uncontrollably to me about her entire life. Due to this she went through a bought of poor mental health. She didn’t come to uni so I made new friends and it was wonderful.

I still tried to keep in touch with her but I got little response so the friendship began draining me and I felt used. The only times she spoke to me now was when she needed something and it was painful but still I tried to keep the friendship. This cycle just carried on and my friends were even asking me why I wasn’t just ending the friendship as they could see the toxicity within.

Anyway, me and my group of 13 friends all arranged a nice trip to the cinema to watch Barbie. Typically the day we were going to go she turned up to uni and asked me if I had plans for the rest of the day. So, I responded with “well I’m actually planning to go to watch Barbie with everyone later. You can join if you want”. To which she responded by bursting into hysterics telling me I don’t value the friendship and I needed to put more effort into messaging her (bare in mind she didn’t message me at all) to which I got angry and expressed my feeling about feeling used etc. The argument got to the point that I said to her I just needed to go and speak to one of my other friends before I said something I may regret. At which point she physically pushed me against the wall throwing insults at me, telling me I was a horrible friend etc. I didn’t want the friendship to end but at this point the argument got to the point that it needed to end so I tried to console her. She turned the whole conversation on its head turning herself into the victim and I got angry again which I think was understandable so I walked and once again she pushed me but also slapped me straight across the face infront of all my other friends and members of the uni. It was attracting attention. At this point she just started spewing things I had told her throughout the whole friendship and I just went NEVER speak to me again and blocked her on everything. She tried chasing after me profusely apologising but I was not taking her bullshit.

I’ve felt bad ever since for leaving her during a time of hardship but the friendship was becoming really taxing in me mentally and the moment she laid hands on me I decided I would never go back.

A thirty-year old man came to see me for unexplained visual loss in one eye. I thought there was a mass pushing against his left optic nerve and ordered an MRI. This demonstrated that the mass was in fact a large aneurysm of his carotid artery against the brain.

The protocol was to send such cases to the vascular neurosurgeon who saw him the same day. He agreed on the diagnosis and ordered an angiogram to better show the aneurysm. Both the angiogram and surgery were set for the next morning. This was about 1987 and there was no way of fixing the aneurysm without open neurosurgery. We were lucky as Dr. T was world famous for his technical ability. And he was kind to allow me to come as his assistant.

The skull was opened by the resident by drilling four holes that were then connected with an electric saw that had a ridge to protect the soft brain beneath. The large skull flap was removed and the underlying dura (tough skin around the brain) cut and flapped back, exposing the brain. For the next hour the chief resident pushed and manipulated the brain to one side. And then a ridge of bone had to be drilled down for better exposure. Then we had a clear view, the juncture of the carotid and ophthalmic arteries with a big bulging arterial aneurysm coming straight up at us. Before touching this, Dr. T placed two cords around the carotids on both sides. “Just in case.” He explained.

Then, a silver aneurysm clip was slipped in behind the aneurysm and slowly released allowing the two prongs to cinch closed over the neck of the aneurysm. Only I didn’t get to see the last part. Suddenly the entire brain pan filled with blood. I was suctioning but couldn’t keep up with the outpouring of blood. The resident ripped his suction tip off and I followed suit, so we went with these hoses into the bloody opening, but we couldn’t make any headway or even see the brain. Dr. T couldn’t see a thing and blood was spilling up and over the edges of the skull.

A nurse started to read the falling blood pressures. “110/65, 90/50, 70/40, 55/nil. Then the anaesthesiologist said, “We’ve lost him. Blood pressure crashed to unmeasurable.” The nurse was squeezing bags of blood into him but couldn’t keep up with what was pouring out.

Now if this happens in the abdomen, you compress the bleeder or place clamps. But in the brain, you don’t have those options. But cool as a cucumber, Dr. T stuck his hands below the surface of the blood and began feeling about. He tied off the carotids proximal to the bleed. Then suddenly our suction worked. And the blood pressure came up from zero. Dr. T examined the area and laughed. “There was a second aneurysm hiding behind the first one,” he exclaimed. A second silver clip was placed. Then the carotid ligatures were removed.

I turned to the anesthesiologist and said, “Were you scared?” “No,” he said. “Just sad. He was dead and I saw no hope that we could get him back. Such a young man.” Two hours later I related the story to the patient’s wife. On follow up, the patient did great. He even got his vision back.

I have never seen such cold blooded rapid action under fire. Dr. T didn’t even take a second to swear. Afterwards in the doctors’ lounge, he smiled and said, “It’s more fun when it goes like that.”

Blueberry Puffs

Puffs
Puffs

Ingredients

  • 2 cups fresh or 1 bag frozen blueberries
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1/3 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon allspice
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1/3 cup light brown sugar
  • 12 slices bread
  • 6 eggs
  • 2 cups Half-and-Half
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar

Instructions

  1. Mix first 7 ingredients in a saucepan. Heat until the sauce is semi-thick. Set aside and cool to room temperature.
  2. Cut crusts from bread. Spray a 2-quart rectangular glass pan with a nonstick pan coating. Cover the bottom of pan with 6 bread slices.
  3. In separate bowl, mix eggs, Half-and-Half, vanilla extract and sugar. Pour half of this mixture over bread.
  4. Spread thickened, cooled blueberry sauce over bottom layer.
  5. Arrange the other half of the bread on top of blueberry filling.
  6. Pour remaining egg mixture over the top.
  7. Sprinkle with a dash of nutmeg.
  8. Cover and place in refrigerator overnight.
  9. Bake in a preheated 350 degrees F oven for 60 minutes.
  10. Let stand for 10 minutes before cutting into 6 servings or 12 servings for a buffet.
  11. Top with brown sugar and a few blueberries.

This was mine:

I was hired by a psychologist to fix a program that seemed to have “strange output” written by one of his ex-grad students. It was a program that reads a data file, asks about 50 questions, does some calculations, and comes up with some score based on this PhD’s research. It’s on a research 3B2 at the university. He demonstrates the program and sure enough there seemed to be strange flashing words on the screen when it moves from question to question, and they don’t seem nice. I agree to do it, should be pretty straightforward, so he’ll pay me by the hour to determine how big the fix is and then we’ll agree to a fee.

Day 1
I sit down at the 3B2 and login to the ex-grad student’s account that has been given to me. This is where the code resides. I examine the C code. It is written to be hard to read. All the code is squished on one line. It’s spread over 15 files with about 3 functions per file — all on one line. All variable names are just three, seemingly random, letters. I talk to the guy and agree to go with hourly on this (great decision). I untangle all the code and format it nicely so I can see it.

It was done on purpose. It used the curses library to move to a point on the screen, print a question and the answers, and wait for a response. But it first went to the first line of the question, printed some white supremacy message, waited 1/2 a second, and then overwrote it with the question. This ought to be simple. There are only about five places it could output anything, and all of them had this subliminal flash of a message. Each one was hard coded. No problem. Delete the offending mvprintw() and all is well. Or should be. I compile, thinking I’m done. But when I ran it, there it is again — the subliminal messages. This time with different text still the same subject, just different messages.

I check my code and believe it or not it’s back to the initial state I found it. 15 files, mangled, 3-letter variables — the whole thing right back where I started. I want shoot myself for not making a copy of my code. I unmangle again, this time putting it in three files, named differently. I make a copy of the whole directory, and I mark the files readable only. I compiled it. All looks good. I run the program. There’s now a copy of the original 15 files in the directory along with mine and the subliminal messages are back.

Okay, so somewhere on the disk is the source code necessary to keep doing this and he’s set the program up to pull in that code when you compile it. I do a full disk search in the include areas (/usr/include) and since this is a research version we have source for just about everything but the kernel itself. That’s a lot of header files and this takes some time on the 3B2, so that’s day 1.

Day 2
The disk search showed up nothing. The strings were apparently either encrypted or they are buried in a library somewhere. Because I don’t have check sums of all the original executable objects, I decide to search all libraries for the text. This is even longer than before, so day two is over.

Day 3
No results. The strings are encrypted. That means I’m going to have to follow all the header files from each #include and each one they #include to find where this is. And that will, take some time. We do alert the campus computing department that we believe someone has gained root level access to Dr. Phelps research computer, which is just a shared lab computer in the science building. They’re understandably not convinced.

I start unwinding the #include files. I do that, nowhere do I find the code. So now I know it’s compiled in a library. No problem at all. Why not just recompile all those libraries, we do have the source after all.

Days 4-6
The hardest part, convincing the campus nerds they have an issue. But we finally do and Mark, the Unix admin who was hired because he married the Dean’s daughter, gets busy learning how to do this. In the end, he agrees to allow me to handle it, because he just doesn’t really know how to get all that stuff compiled. End of Day 6, all standard libraries are recompiled. Woo hoo!

I whip out my modified, cleaned up source and start the compile. All looks good. I run it. O M G. It did it again. 15 messed up source files and the subliminal messages are back. This is suddenly like magic. I investigate very very carefully though I am stumped. This code doesn’t exist in source code. I think I might be beaten. Dr. Phelps isn’t happy with the hours involved and thinks maybe we ought to just rewrite the program from scratch. “Sure”, I say staring at the terminal like a lost puppy too deep in my thoughts to put out of my thinking mode, “I think you’re right. That will be quicker.” “Good,” he says, “we can start tomorrow.”

Day 7
To hell with that. This guy isn’t beating me. We are compiling it from his stinking code or not at all! “You don’t have to pay me anymore, Dr. Phelps, I just want lab time.” This is nerd war.

Days 8-14
I get smart, I’m thinking he somehow modified the curses library. I compile the curses code to assembly and though I don’t know 3B2 assembly (yet!), I start learning. I read manuals for 6 days, piecing together that assembly code. Waste of time, nothing seems unusual.

Day 15
I suddenly realize it’s in the compiler. It was the compiler. And every time you compile the original code and run it puts in the subliminal message code into the source code. I’d heard of this before.

Ah ah! I’ve got him!!!! We have the source code for the compiler as well. I search through it looking for a reference. Lo and behold, I find it. Indeed. There is source code in the compiler/linker that does this:
1) it examines any call to fopen(), searches the file opened looking for Dr. Phelp’s questions; if it finds them then
2) it rewrites the 15 files to the current directory when compiling that specific program.
3) It then compiles Dr. Phelps program using the 15 files and outputs to the -o name in the link phase.

The compiler was modified to put that code in Dr. Phelps program was written by the man that modified the compiler.

Several days later, an AT&T tech shows up with a disk and loads the proper compile and linker source and we recompile the compiler from the source. That solves it. All the bad source in the compiler is gone and we’ve got a new clean copy of the compiler.

Except it didn’t. Because the compiler was poisoned with other source code that we didn’t have. And that source code, that now existed only in the executable compiler, put those changes back into the compiler source before it compiled it. But this time it didn’t modify the /usr/src copy, it copied it to a hidden directory, modified the compiler source, compiled itself from there, and deleted the hidden directory. It took an AT&T tech to find this. The ex-grad student had poisoned the compiler to poison itself when it was recompiled. We had to put a new binary version of the compiler on disk from another 3B2 running the same revision before the problem went away.

We also found that if /sbin/login is compiled it puts in a backdoor allowing anyone who uses a specific password to login in as the root user. This computer is accessible by modem and Tymnet. Finally, this gets the computing center’s attention.

Genius! But put to a horrible cause.

I was 41 yrs old and I had never broken a bone or had stitches, I was a hard working individual and apart from a slot machine addiction of many decades, my life was great. I had met my soul mate back in 2002 and we had lived together since 2003. I was a delivery driver and I simply loved being out on the road with no hassle from bosses. I pretty much worked the hours I wanted because I had earned that right through the hard work I always give.

Long story short ish, like an idiot I tried to move something in the front of the van to the back so it could be unloaded off and I felt something pop in my lower back. I went through the NHS system in the U.K. and the MRI showed I had ruptured my L5/S1 disc. Not a massive hole but enough to warrant a lower back op and they were going to remove the disc and plate it up using screws. The day of the op I had a real bad vibe. I wasn’t impressed to be told I had to have this operation, because the accident happened while I was working and because I didn’t get paid if I was off on sick, it was advised I started a claim against my employers, basically just for the loss of earnings I was going to lose for however lomg I was unable to work after this operation. My employers were amazing from the start, they fully accepted responsibility and I was told to take as much time off because my job would still be waiting for me upon my return. Without sounding bigheaded, I was very good at my job, not just because I could drive a van in the centre of London, but the way I treated the customers and feedback always got back to my boss just how much they appreciated me and yes I did go that mile (no pun intended). So admitting liability helped me out big time. The problem was, I had to do everything to get myself back working as soon as possible. Besides, the success rate was over 99%, so why was I worried. It’s a kin to a fear of flying, it’s the safest way to travel but yet, so many of us fear flying. So what’s the worse that’s going to happen to me……..

That decision to go ahead with that op ruined the rest of my life. It’s now 15 years since I had the original operation. I lay in a bed for 23 hrs a day every single day. I take one of the highest dosages of opiates in the U.K. (according to a senior medical official) and goodness knows what the long term consequences are of taking opiates for so long. I haven’t touched my partner in over a decade and if I was an animal they’d of shot me the same day after that operation. The worse thing for me is, I was told everything went great, no issues at all. So why am I feeling pain like I’ve never felt pain before, it was horrendous. No one knew why, 15 years later and still no one knows why. Don’t get me wrong, during the last 15 yrs everything and anything has been done, sorry, I say 15 yrs, it’s actually 10 yrs. After the 10 yrs I was informed there was nothing else the NHS could do and I was discharged all the while still suffering that very same pain.

I lost everything. But that was just the beginning. I ended up in £42k in debt from interest payments being added to my credit cards because technically, I was still employed and sick pay was just £60 a week back then. But that’s only paid for 6 months, after that you have to be paid via the government and back in 2010 they decided to revamp the social security payments. I was then given just £41 a week for just short of 2 years. I was told I had to wait until it was my turn, but not to worry, it will all get backdated if I was successful with my claim……. My rent alone was £650 a month and I maxed out every credit card I had, I had no choice. When all that ran out I was entered into a debt repayment program and 10 years later, the £42k debt was scrapped. Thanks to my gran, I never missed a payment for 10 years.

Talk about having to jump through hoops for my benefits, I was treated like the rest of society who claimed benefits, like I was trying to cheat the system and all the up to Covid 19 in 2020, I had to be assessed 2 times a year for each benefit and I was claiming 3 benefits. Disability, industrial injury benefit and employment support benefit. That meant I had to travel 6 times a year to wherever they sent me to be assessed, if I miss one appointment ALL my benefits are stopped. It didn’t matter what I told them about being in bed for 23 hrs a day or I couldn’t walk anywhere without going through the pains of hell.

In the early days, everyone thought I was putting it on so I didn’t have to work, like that’s going to help my cause right! But eventually the appointments became less and less and touchwood, I’ve had just one appointment since 2020 Covid. They still only pay the minimum despite being a genuine case, so I’ve had to do what I could to get by. My life is still ruined though. My GoFund page which is in my bio was supposed to pay for a private operation somewhere who knows about this kind of lower back pain. The problem is, no one will even reply to emails unless you have the cash right there and so far I’ve precisely 1 donation which was me because I was convinced people were giving but the page wasn’t working, so yes the page is working but for whatever reasons, I’m still waiting for the first donation but this post is NOT about begging for cash. That’s not me or how I work. I replied to this question because I did have this story to share and I know of others who are simply forgotten about when an operation goes astray.

So yes, you can destroy your life with a single decision.

On the plus side – at least my job is still open for when I am able to return back to work. Although I only have another 11 years to hit retirement age. That’s going to be another massive issue because I have not been able to pay into my private pension for the last 15 years.

Thanks for reading if you made it thus far. All unfortunately very true as I lay on my back in bed with my knees raised.

In 1987 I responded to a call about senior citizen abuse. It was a hot day and I went to this little, old apartment. This little old man was left in a worn out old recliner sitting in the middle of the floor, no furniture, no AC, no water. He had been sitting there for who knows how long. He was crazy with dehydration and out of his mind. I called EMS and they transported him to the hospital. His children had cleaned him out and left him there to rot.

My very first suicide was a guy who shot himself in the chest with a .357 magnum. When he died he had that horror look on his face like he knew he messed up. That one was 32 years ago and I can still see it. I saw many, many, many death cases over the years, all sad in there own way. I have been on hundreds of homicides.

The one that sticks was a female counselor who had a sexual relation ship with a client. He was a drug addict and crazy. Eventually he murdered her in her bed. Then he ran a tub of water and drowned her baby. Sick bastard. Earlier that day I had been on a homicide where a guy killed his wife and put her to bed, pulling the sheets up to her neck. I went looking for him and found him dead in his car. He killed himself.

Another sad one was this sweet old lady decided that life was more than she could bear. She laid out the dress she wanted to be buried in. Then she overdosed on pills, but didn’t actually die. She should have but, didn’t. The last time I saw her she was in a vegetative state. She went from the issues being in her head to actually being in terrible shape. Nothing’s worse than a failed suicide with permanent injury. I’ve seen it more than once.

As a side note (very important). Over the years we responded to a lot of found bodies sitting on the toilet. The Medical Examiner once told me that for your health there’s nothing more important than making sure to eat your fiber. Don’t strain real hard on the toilet. You can bust a gasket and die in there. Eat your fiber.

Ex-CIA: US Pentagon TERRIFIED Over New Russia Strike Plan!

Disclaimer: This isn’t a cute, funny story about things parents say to their kids and everybody laughs about later. It’s a cautionary tale about how narcissistic parents can impact their children’s lives.

When I was a little girl, my toxic, abusive, yet fiercely religious mother TOLD me that *telling lies* was egregious, and would be subject to severe punishment up to and including eternal damnation.

At the same time, she SHOWED me that *telling the truth* was egregious, and would be subject to severe punishment up to and including eternal damnation.

Let me explain using a couple of examples. First, regarding telling lies:

  • Little me, trying to get away with dropping and breaking a dish: “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me!”
  • Mother, who didn’t witness the incident but claimed to have done: “You’re a LIAR! I SEEN ya! Daddy, I think she needs a GOOD SPANKUN’.” Off comes the belt.
  • Lesson learned: Don’t tell lies.

Next, regarding telling the truth:

  • Little me, after admitting to a nosy neighbor something I didn’t know was supposed to be a secret: “Mom, Mrs. Carlson asked me if you dye your hair. I said yes.”
  • Mother, who had just used her latest box of Miss Clairol’s Red Penny Number 416 that morning: “You’re a LIAR! That ain’t true and you know it! Daddy, I think she needs a GOOD SPANKUN’.” Off comes the belt.
  • Lesson learned: Don’t tell the truth.

Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t, both in this life and in the next.

I, as well as my four younger sibs, grew up very confused about what lies and truth actually are. Each of us learned to be very careful about what we said or didn’t say, because we never knew where the land mines were buried. We all were damaged psychologically — which affects us even as older adults — but the symptoms and severity are as individual as we are.

When I was in high school I got a job in a restaurant as a hostess. When I had to go in back to clock into work I had to walk through the area with all the male prep cooks and dishwashers who all primarily spoke Spanish. I was young, pretty and well-endowed, and they all noticed it. For a couple weeks, I would walk into the back and listen as they all made edgy comments about me and my appearance and what they’d like to do to/ with me. I just ignored them.

A couple weeks after I started, I walked through the back to clock in and one of the new employees said something particularly vile about what he’d like to do to me. I stopped, whipped around, and in Spanish “read him the riot act” about talking about me so disrespectfully and inappropriately. I watched as jaws dropped all over the room, different men realizing the things they’d said when I was walking by and in earshot.

Profound apologies came for days. I don’t think any of them would have spoken so coarsely about me if they had realized I could understand. After that they all treated me like a little sister, very respectful, some standing up for me when others started to go off track.

YouTube AI cult generations regarding Super Panavision 70

Gossip! False reporting! Both! I was long graduated but I saw this coming, in fact, I warned that teacher if she “didn’t shut up and stop stirring the pot with frivolous reporting and gossiping it would come back to haunt her!” She laughed in my face.

On an ego trip! Bad enough, she was a special education teacher on top of everything!

What happened that got her terminated? Well, she reported a student as “suicidal” and “displaying bi-polar behavior” and in addition she “claimed” she had found “drugs” in the student’s purse after “she claimed the student stole her stuff from her desk”!

She didn’t like this particular student because that student was very popular, plus she was cute, boys were attracted to her.

Yes, this teacher’s obsession went too far! She got that student suspended twice, and both times the mother took her to the clinic due to “drugs” and both times she came up negative. One big mistake was the student’s Uncle is a well known lawyer!

Let’s put it this way, he filed a lawsuit against the School System, against the Teacher and against the School that student was attending! They won the case hands down, and the student was transferred to another school and was doing exceptionally well there, and made it to the Principal’s List (as they call it today) as straight A student!

That “special Ed” Teacher constantly gave her F’s and D’s, wrote all kinds of notes and none were true!
That particular student knew me, and I was subpoena to testify. The School system claimed “immunity” but the Judge sided with the Lawyer, immunity can only go so far!

They won the lawsuit, the teacher was going to be terminated but she “resigned” before they could terminate her. They also imposed a “restriction” (she could not be around with anyone under the age of 21). That teacher almost lost custody of her own children (because of the testimonies from students – present and former, plus assistants/tutors who also testified).

While the Jury sided with the plaintiff, however, it was the Judge that constrained her as he was very concerned about her 2 children, the HRS (today is DCF/CPI) were required to visit twice a week until the child was of 19 years of age! He was concerned because of the mother’s mental state as he said it right there “Narcissistic Power Control”.

Because of that “restriction” the mother could not leave the county without a hearing. Once her youngest child turned 19, they sold the home and moved away quickly!

Man, oh man!

I was in this Big-Bazaar type super-market the other day.

So, I was waiting in the billing line.

The young lady before me was retaining the billed goods in trolley as slowly as possible.

I mean for an outsider, it would be like, the supermarket is conducting a patience-check limit trial with me as subject.

Finally, she was done.

Her husband or brother, as I saw, surreptitiously placed two stolen Park avenue beer shampoo bottles in that billed trolley. The lady was ignorant of it.

I think, he was her husband. He looked quite patient and unhappy.

They moved forward. Finally, mine was getting billed.

The bill-guy kept looking at her as she was leaving. I pleaded, brother please make my bill.

But he couldn’t help distraction, she too wouldn’t just get her a** out of there fast.

She was so slow and hence so near. I could hear what they were talking.

Lady (to husband) : Hey, what’s these shampoo bottles?

Man : It was a discount. Separate counter.

Lady : How much discount.

I shouted : 100%.

Lady didn’t understand. Man at once looked back, kept those bottles there, held her hands, forgot patience and got her vanished.

The excitement of billing guy got diluted. In turn, he became concentrated and in a split-second prepared my bill.

Riding on an Army UH-1 “Huey” helicopter during the Vietnam War was a unique and intense experience that left a lasting impression on those who lived through it. Here’s a description based on accounts from veterans and historical sources:

The Approach

As a soldier approached the landing zone (LZ) to board the Huey, the first sensation was often the overwhelming noise. The distinct “whop-whop” of the rotor blades could be heard from a distance, growing louder as the helicopter approached. The downwash from the rotors kicked up dust and debris, and the thick smell of aviation fuel filled the air.

Boarding

Boarding a Huey was typically hurried and chaotic, especially in a combat zone. Soldiers, often weighed down by their gear and weapons, would quickly pile in. There were no luxuries; seating was on metal benches along the sides, or sometimes directly on the floor. The doors were usually open, providing an unobstructed view outside and a rush of wind once airborne.

Takeoff

The takeoff was quick and steep. The Huey would lift off the ground with a sense of urgency, sometimes swaying slightly as it gained altitude. The open doors meant soldiers could look straight down at the rapidly shrinking landscape. The vibrations from the rotors and the engine could be felt throughout the entire airframe.

In Flight

During the

flight, the noise was deafening. Communication among passengers was nearly impossible without shouting or using hand signals. The wind whipped through the open doors, and the ride could be rough, especially in turbulent weather or when taking evasive maneuvers to avoid enemy fire. The view was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, with the dense jungle, rice paddies, and winding rivers below.

The Landing

Landing in a hot LZ (an area under potential enemy fire) was particularly intense. The approach would be fast and steep, with the helicopter descending rapidly. Pilots often performed a “combat landing,” where the Huey would descend sharply and touch down quickly to minimize the time spent vulnerable to enemy fire. The sudden deceleration and jarring contact with the ground added to the adrenaline rush.

Disembarking

Once on the ground, soldiers would rapidly disembark, sometimes under fire. The urgency was palpable as they moved out to secure the area or head to their mission objectives. The Huey would not linger; as soon as the soldiers were clear, it would lift off again, often as quickly as it had landed.

Emotional Impact

The experience of riding in a Huey was a mix of fear, excitement, and camaraderie. The constant threat of enemy fire, combined with the raw power and mechanical presence of the helicopter, left a deep impression. For many, the sound of a Huey became synonymous with both the danger and the lifeline of their time in Vietnam.

Futurama – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

In 1966, before draft lottery, I was in a body cast from a car accident and had to drop out of school going to my sophomore year. I had a Rx for Darvon and Robaxin, pain killer and muscle relaxant. I was called for the draft physical and could not bend to touch my knees. I was told I would get a good physical at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Myself and a couple of hundred other kids from Pittsburgh were herded on to a train heading South.

I was given an open Rx on Darvon and Robaxin and put into basic training. I had to sleep on a board because a sagging bunk killed my back! I was also 20:400 vision and classified “non combat” arms. I was near legally blind.

Officers in combat in Vietnam did not last long and they needed officers. I tested out well and was offered Officer Candidate School. Why not? I was non combat arms.

Upon graduation, someone, without my knowledge, put me in for a wavier to be combat arms! I ended up with the First Cavalry in Vietnam, leading a platoon in jungle combat. I was exceptionally fortunate and made it home!

Most of my men were wounded at least once. I lost some in combat.

Because I only had one year of college, I was a Lieutenant at 20 years old. I doubt that would happen today! They just needed officers for combat rolls. Looking back, that is a lot of responsibility for a kid… leading 30 other kids in combat and having to make split second decisions and they had to be right or people died!

The draft was horrible and unfair and many died in an unnecessary war because of it! I was lucky and blessed with bonus days. Thank you Lord for giving me the opportunity of a full life!

The Coming Societal Breakdown of America with #PeterTurchin

Everyone knows that America has become a plutocracy.

At the culmination of a convivial evening filled with laughter and shared stories , the moment of reckoning arrived—the presentation of the bill . As each diner reached for their wallets , one individual , let ‘s call him Ethan , exhibited a peculiar reluctance . With a sheepish grin , he stammered excuses about having forgotten his wallet and being short on cash . The table grew silent , a palpable tension hanging in the air . The weight of Ethan ‘s attempted evasion fell heavily on the shoulders of his companions , who had generously covered his expenses throughout the evening . A chorus of voices rose in protest , each expressing their disappointment and frustration . Undeterred , Ethan doubled down on his excuses , claiming he had no other means of paying . The atmosphere grew increasingly acrimonious as the group debated whether to let Ethan off the hook or hold him accountable . Finally , our server , a woman with a steely gaze and a no-nonsense demeanor , intervened . She calmly informed Ethan that if he could not pay his portion , he would have to leave his ID and return to settle the bill at a later time . Ethan ‘s bravado crumbled before her unwavering gaze . With a heavy sigh , he retrieved his ID , his face flushed with embarrassment . As he made his sheepish exit , the table erupted in a mix of laughter and relief . Ethan ‘s attempt to avoid his financial responsibility had backfired spectacularly . Not only was he forced to face the consequences of his actions , but he also lost the respect of his companions . * * Engaging sentence : * * Discover more satisfying tales of accountability in the link in my bio , where karma reigns supreme and justice is served with a side of sweet retribution .

Not today but a year ago.

I was tensed. I believe the stress had entered each of my nerves. I got to know something that was weird and unexpected. It had knocked the wind out of me.

People change I knew. But to this extent? I was unable to take it.

I felt deceived. Couldn’t sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I had to go for Covid Vaccination which I had scheduled long back. I couldn’t cancel it.

I was driving to the place which was 12 kilometres away from my home. I was lost in my own world though I was constantly convincing myself.

“Let people do what they want. If I don’t exist for them, they too don’t exist for me. I am happy with my child who gives me a goal. I don’t care about anyone now”, I kept telling this to myself while the tears were rolling down without listening to a word.

The road was straight and then, at one point, I had to turn right which I forgot. I kept on driving straight and took extra 6 kilometres. Suddenly, I realised I was completely in a new place.

With a lost mind, I asked the traffic police about the location and he told me that I had to take a U-turn to reach my destination.

I took.

However, that day I realised that some U-turns are never possible in real life. If you still try to take this U-turn, it will only lead you to miseries. So the sooner we adapt to change, the better we get.

Now, I have learnt to burn my anger in this flame.

The Matrix – 1950s Super Panavision 70

"The Matrix - 1950s Super Panavision 70 introduces a new take on the world's famous The Matrix Film. I attempted to give it that 1950s sound and feel. I hope you all enjoy."

Not Ukrainians. They were not operating the drone.

United States operated the drone out of the United States.

The command centers for the operation of the U.S. “Global Hawk” drones are primarily located at two key facilities:

1. Beale Air Force Base in California: Beale AFB is home to the 9th Reconnaissance Wing, which operates the RQ-4 Global Hawk. This base plays a significant role in the command, control, and operational management of Global Hawk missions.

2. Grand Forks Air Force Base in North Dakota: Grand Forks AFB hosts the 319th Reconnaissance Wing, which also operates and supports Global Hawk missions. This base provides operational support and command functions for the drones.

These command centers are responsible for coordinating and managing the flights, mission planning, data collection, and analysis of the Global Hawk unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs). Additionally, remote piloting stations can control the Global Hawks from various other locations, including forward-deployed sites and central command facilities.

And Russia knows this.

Let’s wind back and deconstruct.

An attack with U.S.-Supplied ATACMS missiles, by Ukraine, against civilians on a Beach in Sevastopol, Crimea, Russia has occurred.

Now, we find out that ATACMS could not get targeting coordinates because of Russian GPS Electronic Warfare Jamming, so targeting was apparently provided by a U.S. “Global Hawk” Drone.

It looks like United States military inside the United States targeted those Russian Civilians inside of Russia.

So the United States is actively fighting Russia.

No Ukrainians anywhere.

Russian Jamming of Global Positioning Satellites (GPS) has been long underway near Crimea specifically to thwart Ukrainian attacks. The areas in red on the image above are where GPS signals CANNOT get through. So how did those ATACMS hit the target in Sevastopol?

Turns out there was a United States Air Force “Global Hawk” surveillance drone airborne, prior to – and during – the attack. It’s overlapping flight path is shown on the FlightRadar24 map below:

That “Global Hawk” drone can provide precise target coordinates, separate and distinct from GPS. Those coordinates could then be radioed to be programmed-into the HIMARS launcher, which fired the ATACMS missiles.

The evidence seems to indicate: The attack upon Russian civilians, on the beach in Sevastopol, appears to have been targeted with a United States Air Force Global Hawk drone, which relied on US Satellite data and communications to provide attack coordinates.

This appears to many people to have been an act of war by the United States, against Russian civilians.

This is NOT a trivial matter.

This is the kind of thing that starts nuclear missiles flying.

Southpark – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

The Chinese are the most industrious race on earth.

Necessity is the mother of Invention

The Chinese will find a way. The more you suppress them and the more you try to deny them the technology – they will begin to make it on their own and they will slowly do better and better.

Chips is the best example

As long as Taiwan kept supplying them the chips – The Chinese were happy. They focused on other things

The Minute Trump decided to threaten the Chinese – they decided to get their act together and start making their own chips. They will start with inferior ones but in 10 years – they will outmanufacture Taiwan at 1/3 the cost and take away the market.

And the businessmen will say – “Uigyurs???? Who gives a damn about them. My shareholders matter” and will migrate from Taiwan to China in 10 seconds.


The US may try again and again but

(a) They waited too long. China is too rich today. They have too much money.

(b) China has too many tentacles in foreign countries. Thousands of Chinese in various industries who are experts

In Space alone – China was behind India until 2010 – but today – they have their own Mapping System for their huge landmass as well as are in the position of becoming the Third country in the globe to land on Mars – having landed on the moon.

China and Russia are on the verge of building their own International Space Station having both the financial muscle and technology.


You cannot bully or intimidate or stifle Progress. Eventually Life finds a way.

US should learn this lesson hard. The more they try – they may get 10 years more but in the end China will get there and take over.

20 Things From The 1980s, We Can No Longer Do!

https://youtu.be/IVGJEB3u-wE

Don’t.

I worked for a corporation for about 15 years. Absolutely loved my work.

The thing about my job was that after your one and a half year training/supervison, you were able to choose your own work schedule, per the employee manual. You could work from home. You could work from overseas. You could work while sitting on your toilet. You could do your work from anywhere, anytime, so long as you met “production.” It was a dream position.

So, shortly after that year and a half of training, I eventually started working sometimes nights and sometimes weekends. Typically not during the day. Co-workers were a bit eccentric, off center, yet brilliant attorneys. I preferred my alone time, thank you.

I eventually took up residence in a different city. I typically had one of the highest production rates (sometimes highest) of all my fellow colleagues. All top-notch, well-educated colleagues, by the way. Loved them all.

Then, I started working at a law firm where I worked days. But I continually exceeded “production” for my initial company.

At around the 15 year mark, my two supervisors, who were very ineffectual (Peter Principle) at their positions (not even attorneys), discovered I was also working for a law firm.

I suspected they did not like me, for whatever reason. And they also did not like I had another job (not prohibited, per the employee manual).

In my last review, I received an “exceeds expectations.” A few days later, I was instructed to be in the office during “core business hours.” Core? I could never even figure out what “core” meant. Like I need to be in a hole?

Nothing in my job was of immediate import. In my position, people were not going to die or be executed, airplanes would not drop from the sky, pets would still be safe, families would remain intact, if I continued to work my own hours as I had for nearly 14 years. It was a fricking publishing job! I was not a first responder.

I tried to explain to them that the employee manual, which had not been changed, allowed me this, and also, I could not be in the office. I lived in a different city.

Ultimately, I was constructively terminated as I was unable to be in their office for “core business hours.” To the unemployment office (I had to file a claim despite having a new employer), they claimed I had quit, so that they would not need to pay unemployment in the event my other employment did not work. Surprisingly, they won. Unreal. I did not quit. I loved that job.

Fast forward to awhile later. They contacted me needing pertinent information related to my position. Information only I possessed. Rather costly information at that. And I had it for years. Noone else needed it. None of my esteemed colleagues had access to this information.

I never replied.

Turns out, and I heard this from a former colleague, they were both terminated shortly after my departure and their request for information. I cannot speculate as to the reason. But, who cares why? Karma’s a bitch.

Never, ever give a crap employer any assistance after you have been terminated. Employees are so expendable, so never give them the luxury of your experience, knowledge and expertise. Don’t even waste time replying.

However, if you do choose to reply, which I did not, charge them exorbitant fees for your services. Very exorbitant.

Good luck to you. You will also find a much better position.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home – 1950s Super Panavision 70

Picture a full church of well dressed people waiting for the bride to walk up the aisle.

There is a nervous idiot, me, waiting at the front of the church for her. It was a super quick engagement and I basically asked her to marry me on our first date (very smooth, I know). She is 8 years younger than me and, no exaggeration, a movie star gorgeous blond, so far out of my league that people are mystified by how she could be remotely attracted to me.

I’m not happy on the big day, I’m scared to death that she will realize she is about to make the worst mistake of her life.

All of sudden from the back of the church I hear her crying hysterically. Crap, I knew it. I’m not even surprised. I don’t blame her and it’s not her fault, it’s mine for rushing her.

A few awkward moments minutes that felt like hours passed. Suddenly she and her Dad appeared and they start walking up the aisle toward me. Her dad convinced her that her tears were just nerves and she should go ahead and marry the unemployed guy that had big dreams but was living in his brother’s basement.

We’ve been happily married 33 years now.

[P. S. I should add that I did start and now run a successful multimillion dollar company and have tried to pay my sweet wife back by providing her with what she has described as a fairy tale life :-)]

Collective Soul – ‘Shine’ – Live At The PrintShop

China sees through the US that it cannot do without China hence it cannot play ball with China without harming itself tremendously. China do not need the US. In any way at all. US as a market is now is a mere 12% of the world market and dropping very fast. China is not keen to keep US dollars post Ukraine war. Hence if the US stop buying and selling with China, it won’t miss a heart beat.

The faster the US decouple with China the faster China can move against the US openly and effectively! Only brain dead westerners thinks China needs the US. The biggest market for Chinese goods is actually East Asia, followed by ASEAN followed by rest of Asia then Latin America and Africa, then Russia and its European friends such as Serbia and Hungary, then comes Rest of EU and then North America!

That explains why China grew 5.3% in spite of the shit that the US and Anglo cousins and EU dogs did to China! But by blocking out China it is indeed losing the rest of the world’s market! What the US is left with is a fading and now insignificant west! After a 3 generation of abusing and bully the global south they are all lining up with the BRICS to take revenge on the US!

And meanwhile the US has increased its cost so artificially high yet its efficiency so unbelievably low to the point that doing any thing on its own is impossible to sell even to Yanks themselves! For example if the apple iPhone were to be made in the USA it will have to be sold at 5000 bucks! On EV’s most brain dead Yanks do not even know the ridiculousness of Elon Musk 5.1 billion bonus request means American are going to pay for it by 5000 bucks increase in their Tesla!

If the US has any sense it needs to cement its position of being China’s right hand man but it is not humble enough nor does it have common sense. The US needs China badly, without them the US will fall into a deep recession and suffers a double digit inflation for half a century! China holds all the cards while the US is a like a hopeless screaming dog!

Biscuits and Sausage Gravy

Biscuits and Sausage Gravy is popular all over America. It’s a staple dish on diner menus.

biscuits sausage gravy
biscuits sausage gravy

Yield: 6 servings, 2 biscuits each

Ingredients

Biscuits

  • 3 cups self-rising soft wheat flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup butter-flavored shortening
  • 1 1/4 cups buttermilk
  • Butter, melted

Sausage Gravy

  • 1 pound breakfast sausage (mild or hot)
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 3 1/4 cups milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt or seasoned salt
  • 2 teaspoons pepper
  • 1/8 teaspoon Italian seasoning

Instructions

Bisicuits

  1. Combine first 3 ingredients in a large bowl; cut in shortening with a pastry blender until mixture is crumbly.
  2. Add buttermilk, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened.
  3. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead lightly 4 or 5 times.
  4. Roll dough to 3/4 inch thickness; cut with a 2 1/2 inch biscuit cutter. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet.
  5. Bake at 425 degrees F for 12 minutes or until golden.
  6. Brush tops with butter.
  7. Split biscuits open; serve with Sausage Gravy.

Sausage Gravy

  1. Brown sausage in a skillet, stirring until it crumbles.
  2. Drain, reserving 1 tablespoon drippings in skillet. Set sausage aside.
  3. Add butter to drippings; heat over low heat until butter melts.
  4. Add flour, stirring until smooth. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.
  5. Gradually add milk; cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thickened and bubbly.
  6. Stir in seasonings and sausage. Cook until thoroughly heated, stirring constantly.

Notes

This recipe is easily doubled.

Family Guy – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

This is one of the better ones.

China has ancient historical record since 230 AD. Some records are official. Some are not & was prepared by fishermen themselves (they are in a museum now).

On some of the islands/shoals in SCS, there were Chinese landmarks. Like these days, China put a landmark on the moon to prove China has landed on the moon.

China even named many of SCS islands/reefs.

People do not recognise Chinese historical record which, they said, it is 1-sided. Not internationally recognised. Fair enough.

Let us talk about modern-day & international record then.

During WW2, Japan occupied lots of SCS islands/reefs. After defeat, Japan must returned all SCS islands to the rightful country like China. US warships accompanied China to reclaim the SCS islands in 1947.

China went by its historical record & drew the 11-dash line. China published & announced its map to the world in Feb 1948. No country objected to it at the time. That is why we can find the 11-dash in the old maps of many countries eg USA, UK, Russia & more. Even Philippines.

The 11-dash is an international record, agree?

There was a civil war in China. CPC defeated the then ruling party KMT in 1949.

KMT was a US puppet but not CPC. … that led to US robbery of SCS islands/reefs by driving a wedge among SCS countries against China.

In 1967, USA announced there is oil/gas under SCS. Robbery officially started.

That is why there is tension in SCS from the point of robbery. Not strategic.

So much fun! This is five stars!

Before training as nurse, I was a former cop. My husband was a cop for over 30 years. His most harrowing experience occurred one Christmas Eve.

There was a horrific wreck involving a wrong way driver where a young mother and her two daughters were killed. The crash was so intense that there were were mangled pieces of body parts on the road and in the totaled and burned vehicles.

As a normal procedure, my husband and a fellow officer made the casualty call to the home of the family of the woman. The husband/father answered the door, ushered them in, and they proceeded to tell him what had happened. The heartbroken man could barely speak as he realized he had lost his wife and daughters. Then he asked, “What about my baby boy?” There was no evidence of a baby involved in the wreck.

The officers then went to the wrecker yard where the smashed vehicles had been taken. In the floorboards of the woman’s car was what had been assumed was a doll, burned black by the intense heat of the crash and resultant fire. It was the little boy’s body.

After a long night working the most exhausting, painful, mind wrenching experience of his long career, he came home just in time to play Santa to our 4 year old daughter and our own baby boy. His tears as he held his children were heartbreaking.

My family comes from a long line of military members. Many experience PTSD from horrific experiences over a 1 or 2 year or several deployments. Our career police officers suffer through years, even decades, of witnessing events that the average person will never know the horror of. They see raped children who have been torn open. They see battered wives whose eyeballs are laying on their cheeks, they see the worst of humanity yet are expected to be perfect in every way. They come straight from the funeral of a colleague who has been murdered and are expected to be cordial and patient with dirtbags who are disrespectful of any authority, who has attempted to kill them as well, and who fit the MO of the killer of their fellow officer. They are often not able to talk about it or to seek therapy for to do so could affect their careers.

My son, a military veteran, is now a career police officer. I pray for him every day. God bless our men in women in blue and keep them safe.

BLUE LIVES MATTER.

When the “parody” surpasses the original

There is indeed such a view.

The Economist has conducted surveys and research, and they believe that China’s GDP (PPP) alone is underestimated by $1.4 trillion.

I checked the relevant data. In 2021, China’s GDP (PPP) was $28.82 trillion, and the United States was $23.59 billion. China is 122% of the United States. If the Economist’s survey is correct, it means that China’s real data is $3.022 trillion, which is 128% of the United States.

China’s economic model retains a dangerous allure
Despite the country’s current struggles, autocrats elsewhere see a lot to admire

**The Economist has their own basis**

They obtained a lot of professional data from some professional institutions in the United States, which were not originally for economic services. For example, this table is a data from the United States Geological Survey, which lists China’s production and global share of key metals and manufactured products.

In addition, they also obtained data from the power industry, industrial manufactured products, shipbuilding, McDonald’s sales data, and many other data. And these non-economic data are aggregated together to analyze and count the economic scale of China and the United States in another way.

The Economist pointed out the flaws in China’s official GDP statistical method: the Chinese do not consider the service industry to be part of GDP.

For example, in the United States and Europe, many industries that do not produce “products” such as house rent, legal advice, R&D investment, child care, etc. are part of GDP, and they count GDP through expenditure.

But in China, they only count the real economy.

A company must produce cars, toys, clothing or software, food. Farmers or fishermen must produce rice and fish. They sell these things to earn income before they are included in GDP.

Small and medium-sized service industries are usually not counted. If a barbershop provides a haircut, a car wash cleans your car, or you rent your house to a young couple, these economic activities are not considered part of GDP and are almost never counted. (Unless you are a large enterprise with hundreds of shops or dozens of houses)

**”Asia Times” also conducted a similar survey**

World Bank researchers visited 16,000 stores in China alone to collect price data. The latest ICP assessment collected data in 2021, four years after the 2017 survey. The conclusion is that China’s GDP is underestimated by nearly $2 trillion.

China’s National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) was not satisfied with the results and downplayed them, saying “we need to interpret the entire result carefully and correctly grasp the global economic landscape and the status of each economy”, while emphasizing that China is still a “developing economy”.

“Asia Times” believes that China’s economic data has been manipulated intentionally or unintentionally. But contrary to some reports, they believe that China is deliberately suppressing the data.

“China’s PPP GDP is only 25% higher than the US? Come on guys… who are we kidding? Last year, China produced twice as much electricity, 12.6 times as much steel, and 22 times as much cement. Its shipyards account for more than 60% of world production. In 2023, China produced 30.2 million cars, almost three times the US’s 10.6 million. In fact, China’s consumer goods market is several times larger than the US in almost all aspects”

The World Bank survey believes that China’s GDP and PPP GDP are underestimated because of the incomplete transformation of China’s national accounts material product system (MPS), which does not include services by design. The World Bank may do its due diligence and find that China’s consumption of goods is several times that of the US, but its consumption of services is only a small fraction of that of the US, which is very unreasonable.

This is most evident in the Chinese auto market, where OEMs have either cut prices to rock bottom ($17,000 from $42,000 for the Hyundai Sonata) or offered cutting-edge technology at a low price ($14,000 for the BYD Q plug-in hybrid electric vehicle with 2,000 km range). Solar panel prices fell 50% in 2023 and continue to trend downward in 2024. CATL has announced plans to cut lithium-ion battery prices in half by the end of 2024.

Restaurants offer white glove service, such as hot towels, lotions by the sink, and stylish decor. Barbers offer bottled water and fruit plates. Tech companies have slashed the price of large language models (LLMs) to essentially free. The quality of service in China is hard to quantify, but it is now far superior to that in the West, and perhaps even Japan.

Are American healthcare and universities twice as good as they were in 2000? If American families had not received vastly improved health care, education, housing, and child care over the past two decades, inflation would have been systematically understated, and GDP growth would have actually been less than 1% per year (rather than 2%), equivalent to stagnation at a population growth rate of 0.8% per year. This probably explains much of the popular anger and the breakdown of American politics.

China’s material-centric GDP is probably a better measure of the economy’s relationship to living standards, especially since the UN Commission on National Accounts has apparently lost its mind and formally recommended including things like drugs, prostitution, illegal gambling, and theft in GDP.

The US spends $1 trillion per year on defense (including intelligence and energy department programs) and has reduced the size of the US Navy, while China has built the world’s largest navy with the largest number of ships on a budget of $236 billion.

Likewise, analysts who lament that China accounts for 30% of the world’s manufacturing output but only 13% of household consumption are dead wrong. China actually accounts for 20-40% of global demand for almost all consumer goods, but most of the services it consumes are not included in the national accounts.

So how much is it? How big is the Chinese economy? About six months ago, it was estimated that China’s GDP would increase by 25-40% if calculated according to UNSNA.

2001: A Space Odyssey – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

Oh, yes!

Seven years ago my husband and I moved to this delightful retirement village. It has, give or take, 184 residents, most of whom are in their 80’s and 90’s, and all of whom the outside world would consider very weird indeed. They seem to live in a time warp, where everyone is kind and decent, caring for their neighbour. There’s no rubbish thrown down, no chewing gum spat onto the pavements to besmirch one’s shoes. Everyone drives at the manadatory 10 miles an hour within the village. No one gets drunk at the bar. Merry perhaps, at some celebration, but screaming and fighting is a big “no,no”. No one swears, that’s impolite in front of the ladies!

They talk about the Empire and WW2 and their roles in that war. They are proud, too proud sometimes to mention they are “not feeling too good”, as they don’t want to trouble anyone with their problems. They don’t mention it, if their children rarely bother to turn up. Nor do other, luckier ones, mention their regular weekly visits from their children. “ One doesn’t want to hurt another’s feelings, you know”!

If you want to join in all the many and varied pursuits, run mainly by the residents themselves, then you are made very welcome. If not and you prefer to stay in your little bungalow that day, that’s fine also. No one will intrude upon your privacy, unless invited to do so. A phone call, on occasion, perhaps, just to see if you’re OK.

As my 93 year old my husband said, not long before he died, “We’ve returned to the world we knew – our world. We’re so fortunate not having to cope with that world out there, which many of us simply don’t really understand”! I echo his words in my heart every day.

The Flintstones – 1950’s Super Panavision 70

Love this.

It was a combination of many things that made Ted Kaczynski so elusive.

A few of them:

  1. He was (and still is) extremely intelligent; A genius, by anyone’s measure.
  2. He was willing to go to extreme lengths to conceal his identity (not only building his bombs from scratch — often he used wood, gathered from states far from where he lived, and then hand-whittled). He always built the individual parts of each bomb from scratch, by hand, even if it took many months to construct the raw materials using antique tools, or using tools he actually made himself. He vacuumed everything. He was meticulous, and often spent more than a year to build a single bomb.
  3. He was willing to go “off the grid” and live an uncomfortable lifestyle, to outwit any investigation. This included living in remote woods, in a tiny cabin with no address, no electricity, no running water, did not own a car, no credit cards, no driver’s license. He left no signature, and only a handful of people knew he even existed. (Of course, that happened to fit in and coincide with his motive for committing these crimes… He was the ultimate “Luddite.”)
  4. He was willing to devote incredible efforts to delivering each device, taking a bus from Montana to California and paying cash, and dropping the packages off at quiet postal dropoffs, with stamps already attached (no licking, of course).
  5. He followed the press about his bombings, and was willing to change up his habits when necessary, to avoid capture. He would even travel to another state to find a grocery bag to wrap a bomb in — that is determination.
  6. He basically devoted his entire life during that period to his bombings, and to eluding capture — with no real social life, and only occasional drop-in visits to his local small town library to read the news about the manhunt to find him — a library which he walked to.

Frans and Marie

Submitted into Contest #252 in response to: Make a character’s obsession or addiction an important element of your story. view prompt

Thom With An H

The Transporter Museum, a forgotten relic, is inconveniently located on a deserted side street two turns off a dead-end alley. You might never find it, even by accident, but if you do, you’ll always remember its immaculate displays and its eccentric proprietor, Frans Messerschmitt.Every day precisely at nine, the little old man illuminated the neon sign, flipped the placard to open, and made his way behind the counter, prepared for customers who rarely came.It was already late in the day when the door opened, surprising both Frans and the visitors.“Hello, is anybody there?”The question startled Frans, interrupting his terminal boredom.“Yes. Yes, please come in,” he answered, moving forward to greet his guests. The unexpected voice belonged to a handsome lad sporting sweatpants and a football jersey, followed closely by a pretty young coed in a letterman’s jacket.“It’s almost impossible to find this place,” the boy mentioned, all the while looking at the meticulously cared-for exhibits. “Are we in time for the guided tour?”The question struck Frans as funny. It had been months since his last visitor, so the tours relied on guests, not the other way around.“Of course, my good man,” he answered, sauntering from behind the counter. “My name is Frans and I’m the owner and resident historian. I’d be glad to give you the nickel tour, and I won’t even charge you the nickel.”

 

“Fan-damn-tastic! My name is Billy, and this is Connie. We’ve really been looking forward to this. Where do we start?”

 

“I’m glad you asked,” Frans replied, beckoning the couple to follow. “You’ve lived your whole lives in a time where teleportation from one side of the world to another was the norm—in fact, there’s about to be an app for that!” Frans turned their attention towards a smartphone sitting on display. “Before the end of the year, the new ZapApp will be available, offering skin-touch technology for the first time. All you’ll need to do is enter the desired coordinates, activate the app, and, in seconds—Voila!”

 

“Wow,” Billy exclaimed, reaching for the phone.

 

“Please don’t,” Frans cautioned. “These are replicas and can be easily damaged.”

 

“I hear ya, Gramps,” Billy responded, “Oh, I’m sorry. No disrespect intended, sir.”

 

“Not at all,” Frans replied. “I’ve always wanted a nickname. I like the sound of Gramps. Now if you follow me, I’ll lead you both back in time.”

 

The next display contained a full-length mirror attached to the wall. “I’m sure you two know what this is,” Frans said, stepping aside and allowing Billy and Connie to see. “These teleportation devices are still the most commonly used today. They were part of a trend to make teleportation more accessible and less obtrusive. They were also the first devices that didn’t require an exit portal. Until the Mirror 360, you could only travel to locations with paired devices. Needless to say, it was revolutionary.”

 

“That’s just like yours,” Connie whispered to Billy, punctuating her remark with a kiss on his cheek. “What’s next, Mr. Frans?”

 

Gramps,” Frans corrected her with a chuckle. “Next we see the machine that started it all, The Marie.”

 

“I’ve heard of that,” Billy said. “Wow, it’s huge!”

 

“I know,” Frans agreed. “When the technology was new, we hadn’t yet perfected the art of miniaturization. There were no personal teleportation devices. The only people who had access were scientists, investors, and celebrities. In fact, the first transporters were more gimmicky than useful. They were incredibly expensive, required an entrance and exit port, and were so inefficient that it took a full day’s charge to send someone from one place to another. There’s no doubt we’ve come a long way since then.”

 

“What about that one?” Billy asked, pointing to a machine partially hidden by a curtain.

 

“Oh, that one,” Frans sighed. “That’s the prototype. The first teleportation device.”

 

“That’s the original?” Billy asked, moving closer to get a better look. “Is the legend true?”

 

“I’m afraid it is,” Frans replied. “The machine was the brainchild of a pair of scientists not much older than the two of you. They were the first to prove light was a particle and that we could use it as a mechanism for distance teleportation. The early tests were extremely successful. There were no issues when sending inanimate objects or small animals from one pod to another. The problem occurred when they tried transporting a human. Marie begged to be first and, after winning a game of Rochambeau, she stepped into the entrance pod and disappeared on cue. But when her partner activated the exit pod, everything went terribly wrong. Marie never fully rematerialized. Her translucent hand simply reached forward, and she mouthed the word help. Then she faded away.”

 

“Oh my God!” Connie gasped. “Did he save her?”

 

Frans turned away from the question, paused, then finally answered. “No, he didn’t. You see, molecular displacement teleportation in its infancy was like sending something through a tunnel at light speed. Once entering a pod, the subject can only exit from the paired terminal port.”

 

“That’s tragic,” Connie said, wiping away a tear.

 

“And ironic.” Frans replied.

 

“How so?”

 

“After the colossal mishap, her partner spent the better part of twenty years trying to find a way to release Marie from her tunnel. He became obsessed with correcting his mistake. His research and technological breakthroughs are directly responsible for almost every advancement in teleportation technology. That first awful outcome is why molecular transportation is so incredibly safe today. It’s why you have a Mirror 360 hanging on the wall in your home.”

 

“But Marie—what happened to her?” Connie asked.

 

“All of her partner’s research and all of his calculations never changed Marie’s fate.”

 

“She’s trapped forever?”

 

“She would be, unless he destroyed the machine and released her molecules into the atmosphere, never to be reassembled again.”

 

“What did he…”

 

“It’s almost closing time,” Frans said, interrupting Connie before she could finish the question. “Thanks for coming. You two made an old man very happy today.”

 

“This has been the best tour ever, Gramps.” Billy proclaimed. “What do I owe you?”

 

“Nothing,” Frans answered, shaking Billy’s hand. “Just promise to send your friends.”

 

“It’s a deal,” he said, leading Connie out the door. “I’m sure we’ll be back soon.”

 

“You’re always welcome.”

 

Frans watched as the couple walked away. Then, being that it was precisely five, he locked the door, changed the placard to closed, and turned off the neon sign.

 

Alone once again, Frans returned to the machine behind the curtain, flipped a few switches, and watched as Marie’s translucent figure, forever young, appeared before him.

 

“Frans, are you there?” Marie mouthed, silently.

 

“I’m here, my love. I’ll always be here.”

 

“I’m so afraid,” she responded. “Please let me go.”

 

“I can’t,” Frans replied, ashamed of his weakness.

 

Marie’s eyes grew red, but she summoned the strength to place her hand on her heart and mouth the words I love you. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

 

Heartbroken, Frans turned to walk upstairs, counting the minutes until he could see his love again, if only for a moment, the next day at the exact same time.

Whipping Cream Biscuits

A two-ingredient recipe for some of the best biscuits you will ever eat! If all you have is all-purpose flour, never fear; we give you instructions for making it into self-rising flour.

whipping cream biscuits
whipping cream biscuits

Bake: 10 min | Yield: 8 biscuits

Ingredients

  • 2 cups self-rising flour
  • 1 cup heavy whipping cream

Instructions

Bisicuits

  1. In a large bowl, combine the flour and cream. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface; knead for 5 minutes or until no longer sticky. Roll dough to a 1/2 inch thickness. Cut into 2 1/2 inch biscuits.
  2. Place in a large ungreased cast iron or other ovenproof skillet. Bake at 450 degrees F until golden brown, 8 to 10 minutes.

Notes

* If you don’t have self-rising flour, add 1 tablespoon baking powder and 1 teaspoon salt to 2 cups all-purpose flour. As a substitute for each cup of self-rising flour, place 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a measuring cup. Add all-purpose flour to measure 1 cup.

Forgotten Restaurants From The 1970s, We Want Back!

Such memories. I forgot about these places, but once I watched the video, I sure as heck remembered them.

https://youtu.be/dZLdey9V3qo

he term “terrible” comes from the Russian word “grozny,” which is better translated as “formidable” or “awe-inspiring.”

But Ivan did some pretty terrible things too.

His father, Grand Prince Vasily III, died when Ivan was just three, and his mother, Elena Glinskaya, served as regent until her mysterious death when Ivan was eight.

It’s suspected she was poisoned, which wasn’t uncommon in the Russian court.

As he grew older, Ivan developed a dark streak.

He crowned himself the first Tsar of All Russia in 1547, aiming to centralize power and assert absolute control.

In his early reign, he showed promise, implementing legal reforms, establishing a standing army, and expanding Russian territories.

But this honeymoon period didn’t last.

Things took a dark turn with the death of his beloved wife, Anastasia Romanovna, in 1560.

Her death shattered Ivan, and he spiraled into paranoia and madness, suspecting everyone of treason.

He believed she was poisoned, which might have been true, considering the court’s track record.

Enter the Oprichnina, Ivan’s own personal reign of terror.

In 1565, he divided Russia into two parts: the Oprichnina, directly under his control, and the Zemshchina, ruled by the boyars (nobles).

The Oprichnina was essentially a state within a state, where Ivan’s secret police, the Oprichniki, roamed.

These guys were like medieval KGB, dressed in black, riding black horses, and carrying out Ivan’s brutal orders.

The Oprichniki spread terror through the land, confiscating properties, executing supposed traitors, and crushing any opposition.

One of the most infamous event was the sacking of Novgorod in 1570.

Suspecting the city of treason, Ivan ordered a brutal massacre.

Thousands were tortured and killed, and the city was left in ruins.

In a fit of rage, Ivan famously killed his own son and heir, Ivan Ivanovich, in 1581.

The story goes that he struck his son with a staff during an argument, a blow that proved fatal.

I was moslested by three older boys when I was 9 or 10 years old.

It happened on three separate occasions for a total of approximately 3 hours.

I was already a quiet introverted child and this pushed me even futher into my own mind.

I suffered for years with bed wetting, nightmares, and it damaged my sexual psyche , giving me trust and intimacy issues.

I saw child psychologists for years and eventually though that my parents got to know about it.

My first suicide attempt was at the age of 12, when I dropped from a tree branch deliberately into the path of a car. The car swerved, missed me and ploughed through a wodden fence.

The driver jumped out of the car to see if I was ok, I approached the car and saw there was no-one else there, then ran away.

I still feel bad about that, not seeing if he was Ok and not facing the consequences.

There have been 6 suicide attempts since, 3 of which I have woken from in hospital, dissapointed that it was not over.

Those biys who took my childhood were all brothers, sons of the next door neighbours of my Aunt & Uncle.

When I was 17 and they were between 21 and 25 I tracked them all down- it wasnt difficult, they all lived in the same town.

I took a baseball bat to each of them one at a time all in one night, broke arms legs fingers.

None of them recognised me, not one. I pulled back my balaclava to stare them directly in the face, these monsters that took my childhood, the driving force that had defined me good or bad.

I realised later that night, drunk and broken that what for me was unforgettable was exactly that, not just forgettable but forgotten.

After that, no nightmares not a singe one, and the other issues that I had been battling with in therapy for years resolved themselves. The healing didnt happen over night, but it did begin to happen.

From being powerless, I was powerful. I can’t begin to explain how good, how alive I felt.

I will never regret that night.

99320f9ca16734d44c507c00addc7850
99320f9ca16734d44c507c00addc7850

Fun, too short, though.

This is not really a funny story, except for the karma aspect of it. I was a senior in college, taking a class called instrumental methods of analysis. It is the final chemistry class before graduation. Three hours a week of lecture, plus two, five hour labs each week. Each lab required a 15–20 page lab report and a computer program to analyze our data. Through the first 12 (of 26) lab I had a perfect score on each lab report. Then I got into an argument with the lab teacher after he a lab where we were analyzing the contents of an aspirin, caffeine and phenacetin tablet. Except the APC tablets were removed from the market and so we analyzed acetaminophen, caffeine, phenacetin tablet. The procedure should have be rewritten to account for acetaminophen’s differing absorption spectrum. But our professor was to lazy to do that, telling us to just do the lab as written and explain the bad results. Instead, I ran to the library, found a way to do the experiment properly, and asked my prof. for permission to try it. At first he said yes, but only if you can get someone else to supervise you if it runs long. I did, and got started. He wandered in at 6 and told me to clean up and go home so he could go home for supper. I reminded him of our deal and he lost his shit on me. Finally in frustration, I told him that if he wanted to give me mediocre teaching, I’d give him mediocre work, like the rest of the class. Suddenly he stopped returning our graded work. I assumed I’d get the same C as most of the class, but got a final grade of F, meaning I’d have to spend an extra year in college to retake the class. I tried to arrange retaking the class in the summer at another university. He refused to consider any other class, telling me I was just like his teenage son and we both needed to be taught a lesson. I set up a meeting with our dean in which the prof. told us that he’d fail the entire senior class before he’d pass me. I had already been accepted into a prestigious graduate program and gotten a commitment for four years of funding. I called my grad. school dean. I don’t know exactly what was said between deans, but my undergrad dean called me in and said that they had arranged for me to retake the class alongside my regular grad. classes and transfer the credit back. They also said that the prof. who failed me would not be allowed to stop this deal.

Next summer I returned to my undergrad. school and met with the dean. He asked me to describe how the lab worked at Northwestern. He listened to me describe how differently NU did the labs, focused on designing experiments, learning how lab equipment works and how to use it effectively and creatively. And most of all, instead of wasting time rewriting our text and calling it lab reports we took oral exams while discussing the lab. The dean was so impressed that he promised to force my prof. to rewrite his labs so students wouldn’t just be going through the motions and writing lab reports. I heard through the grapevine that it helped the program and forced my former prof. to do a boatload of work revamping all 26 labs. All in all a pretty horrible experience with a petty and lazy prof, that turned out well in the end because I got to leave the school better than I found it via “instant karma.”

STAR TREK ACID PARTY: PHASE II

This is odddddddddd…….

USA did try in the past. In fact, Biden also urged to start a US version of BRI to counter Chinese BRI.

They failed in the past & so far not succeed either today.

The difference between China & USA is the mentality & price. For the same price, US can only do little.

Let me use Tesla as an example. Musk opened a factory to make electric car in China. It took him 10 months (If I remember correctly) to build a factory.

When he expanded his business & went to build a factory in Germany, it took him 2 YEARS & still not operational.

Why? Too much of politics in the West incl USA & Germany.

Look at California. They wanted to build a high speed rail from dont know where to SF. It is considered short & straight. But 20 years later, only 1 small portion is working. Again politics.

Cats Being Badass: A Tribute

The secrets of womanhood remains an elusive knowledge

No, Because I know quite deep on China’s politic.

You probably wonder what the hell I am talking about, well I will answer actually China has been waiting for country to mess with China. Why? because then China will have a reason to mess with that country, you can see a lot of example, from Vietnam losing land territory, parcels island, Russia losing land, India losing land, Japan losing island, long list of strong nation right?

That list has started during China was weak, now China is strong. what it need is troublemaker like Philippine. Politic is still politic, no matter how noble China try to be if foreign country mess with China, it’s an opportunity to mess with them.

If you search for my old post, you will see an article I wrote that Philippine will lose all their island in South China Sea.

China is the most noble politic we as an earthling can have. China is not like USA which can create Tonkin Gulf incident as a pretext to invade Vietnam. China is not as despicable as USA, USA can claimed Saddam has WMD and go to invade. No, don’t worry China does not work that evil. If you have a good relation with China, well China will not do anything to you.

the evidence is Duterte, Philippine probably don’t realized it Duterte saved your country.

China-Philippine SCS Dispute Chinese Perspective

The South China Sea dispute between China and the Philippines is specifically reflected in Huangyan Island, Ren’ai Reef, Horseshoe Reef, Xianbin Reef, Zhongye Island and surrounding waters.

The reality is that what has truly harmed China’s efforts to safeguard its sovereignty and expand its interests in the South China Sea is not the confrontation between China and the Philippines, but the reconciliation between China and the Philippines.

From around 1990 to this year, China’s South China Sea strategy has evolved from defense to offense, and has also gone through three stages from defense to stalemate to counterattack, marked by the ” Code of Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea ” in November 2002 and the climax of island building in 2013.

Before 2002, China was on the defensive in the South China Sea. Chinese fishermen were arrested and fishing boats were rammed and seized. These incidents were common and would cause uproars today. But there was no way out. At that time, our navy was too weak and our coast guard was seriously under-strength. We were unable to effectively manage the disputed areas and protect the interests of fishermen.

The so-called ” beached ships ” today are all historical issues left over from that time.

Since 2002, as the United States’ attention has shifted to the Middle East, the South China Sea turmoil has no longer been fueled by the United States, and the Philippines is alone. China has entered a period of rapid development, its naval debts are slowly being made up, and its offensive and defensive momentum has begun to change.

Strictly speaking, the real counterattack wave began when Aquino III came to power in 2011. Against the backdrop of the United States’ official launch of the ” return to the Asia-Pacific ,” Aquino III reopened the South China Sea dispute, and this time they faced a completely different China. The climax began in 2013 when China began its island-building frenzy, consolidating existing islands and reefs and gradually opening up disputed areas.

Against the backdrop of the South China Sea dispute between China and the Philippines, China has renounced interference and, while building up islands, has firmly grasped jurisdiction in its own hands, breaking up the Philippines’ counterattacks into harassment by scattered forces.

From 2013 to 2016, this period was the four years with the most intense confrontation between China and the Philippines, but also the four years in which China gained the most by building island on SCS (it actually an counter measure of Obama Asia pivot).

When Duterte came to power in 2016, he chose to get closer to China while falling out with the United States over the stationing of troops and drug prohibition. China’s South China Sea strategy got into trouble, because facing a pro-China faction.

This period was the most peaceful period in the South China Sea, and it was also the years when China’s South China Sea strategy returned to being restrained, China chose a truce in the South China Sea.

But after Marcos JR came to power in 2021 , new opportunities arrived, especially when the United States began to raise interest rates in 2022 and even forced China into a financial decisive battle in 2023(US hope to create chaos so that investment will flee to US). The Philippines, as a pawn of the US strategy, regained its value, and the Philippines also tried to fish in troubled waters, wanting both the South China Sea islands and reefs and the US dollar.

China took the opportunity to greatly expand the scope of its actual control. It also carried out maritime police law enforcement in the disputed area for the first time, took over the disputed area, and will completely solve the “beached ship” problem. By closing off the supply line, it forced the Philippines to evacuate the Ren’ai Reef and put the issue of Zhongye Island on the table.

From October last year to June this year, in just eight months, the benefits gained from the struggle were greater than the total of the past seven years.

The achievement of these results is inseparable from the staunch anti-China stance of the Filipino leader Marcos JR, which gave us the legitimacy of our actions.

But now the defection of Duterte’s daughter may disrupt this process. If Duterte’s daughter plays the rational and pro-China card again and gains power, whether we cannot continue the war without distraction and have to make peace which will become a big problem for China.

There is not much time left for China. China hope to seize this window of time and, under the favorable conditions of the confrontation between China, the United States and the Philippines, quickly take over the Ren’ai Reef and turn Zhongye Island into a controversial frontier.

So Duterte saved Philippine, it paused the clashed in SCS between PH and China for 6 years.

Author Note :

China is not a perfect country, China is not a saint country. But when opportunity appear of course china will take it. China much more noble than the US which claimed a bogus thing to do war, or will backtrack any agreement for it’s benefit.

That is why according to my understanding of China’s politic, China multipolar world order will bring more stability and more equal prosperity than the US world order.

EU Panic: As China Gets Ready Economic Punishments, Germany Runs To Beijing For Mercy

China is on the verge of hitting Europe with economic punishments. This has the potential to escalate things further with various countries including Spain and France. Germany is very afraid of retaliation on their car exports and they are heading to Beijing to undo the damage done by the EU trade tariffs.

Heh.

I was sitting as a judge pro tem in traffic court. Traffic court can always be entertaining, to say the least. As a judge pro tem, I am a working lawyer who volunteers to sit in traffic court or small claims court once a month. This frees up the real judges to hear important cases. In an afternoon session, I’ll have 30 or 40 cases. All of the people who got tickets are waiting their turn in the courtroom for the session.

Each traffic court has a clerk and bailiff. The clerk’s main job is to keep the pro tem judge from looking like an idiot or making any obvious legal mistakes. The bailiff is there to ensure decorum, mostly by intimidation, I guess. The bailiff this day was a very young woman, about 5 foot 2, her nightstick came down to mid-calf, the handcuffs appeared huge on her waist, and she just didn’t look very intimidating. Yet, there she was in police uniform. Before calling the first case, I usually remind all of the defendants that traffic school is an option up until I call their case. Then it’s no longer an option. I explain my courtroom rules that govern each case and the decorum that I expect while the police officer and the defendants are testifying. The vast majority of cases are speeding and driving solo in the carpool lane.

The first case was unusual. The defendant had been ticketed for having an open container of alcohol as a passenger in a car. (The driver had been ticketed for speeding.). The police officer told the story in a routine manner. I turned to the defendant to hear his story. His story is that he was holding the “party ball,” a round container that holds about 10 gallons of beer, a mini-keg with the hose and valve, in his lap. But … it wasn’t his ball, it was someone else’s ball. He had explained all this to the officer at the time the ticket was issued. Therefore, glancing smugly at the officer, he explained that he obviously wasn’t “in possession” of the open container. His testimony was sufficient to convict him of possession of an open container, so after he finished, I told him I was finding him guilty and fining him $500. I also explained to him that I understood his defense that the party ball wasn’t his. I told him that the law prohibits possession of an open container; ownership of the container is not part of the offense.

He went ballistic. He shouted, ranted and raged. I let him go for a minute and then called the next case while he was still shouting. He stayed at his table yelling at me and, as he walked out of the court, he yelled, “Fuck you” at me. This engaged the bailiff who started after him. He ran out of the court with the bailiff, clanking handcuffs, weapon and mid-calf nightstick, after him. As they both exited the courtroom, I told the somewhat stunned crowd that we would wait for the bailiff to return.

Then, we heard the sounds of a body thumping and screams of pain. The bailiff returned to the courtroom with the defendant in a wrist lock. He was bleeding all down one side of his face, and his shirt was torn. “Apologize to the Judge,” she demanded. He piteously whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I told him, “Don’t apologize to me. You wasted everybody’s time here. Apologize to the entire courtroom.” The officer wheeled him around so he could apologize to the entire courtroom. He whimpered several apologies. She then released him. He slunk out of the courtroom.

Every remaining defendant pleaded guilty that day.

After the session was over, I asked the bailiff what happened. It turns out that he was running away from her down the hallway, but there were two police officers waiting to be called as witnesses in traffic court. They saw him and the bailiff in hot pursuit. One of the officers put his foot out and tripped the defendant as he ran by. As the defendant fell, he scraped his face on the jagged stone walls of the courthouse hallway and tore his shirt. The bailiff picked him up and frog-marched him into the courtroom looking like he had been thoroughly beaten up.

John Mearsheimer Destroys Lindsey Graham

John Mearsheimer reacts to Lindsey Graham’s idiotic claims and outright lies about Vladimir Putin. Professor Mearsheumer debunks them point by point and explains “The problem I face when dealing with Lindsey Graham is that he and I don't live on the same planet. I live on a planet where evidence and facts matter. He doesn't.”

Pain was the word, but would you go to the ER if that was the only symptom — pain in the groin ? Ask any urologist and they would say NO (capitalized). It’s one of the most generic and undefined pains that usually cannot be explained — and guys, you KNOW (capitalized) what I’m talking about.

But hearing the guy was one thing, seeing him was another, and diagnosing him was something else.

It was the urologists’ first ever case of Fournier’s Gangrene — an acute necrotic infection of the penis, scrotum or perineum, essentially meaning that the genitals of the affected male patient is being eaten, and very, very fast. It’s also extremely rare, since less than 2,000 cases have been reported in the last 70 years.

He was in his seventies, and the urologist was very clear on what was to happen:

“We need to remove every single thing of this infection — including your penis. Only then you can survive, but I’m not sure if that is even possible.”

The man agreed.

The next three days two things happened.

  • The infected area — included the patient’s penis — was removed.
  • Less than 48 hours later, it turned out that the infection was still alive, and had spread over a much larger area.

And this time, no surgery would help anymore. The infection would take over his body and necrotize every single square inch of his painful body in a matter of days. And so that’s what his urologist told him, in tears, because this was a man who was receiving a sentence instead of a diagnosis — as if the amputation hadn’t been enough already.

But he was totally okay with it —

The pain had to stop.

The Library

Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Write a story about discovering a lost manuscript. It can be from a famous (or infamous) author, or an unknown one. view prompt

Charlotte Lewis

THE LIBRARYLarisse was a bit peeved. She hated greeting duty. She moved to this station because she was promised better wages, better living quarters, and more Fun. Yes, Fun was capitalized. But once a month she had to greet the ship with newcomers. Fun was what you made of it. This was not it.She knew the history of the city she worked and lived in but, like most younger people, she was not particularly impressed. Larisse did acknowledge that science has progressed so rapidly since the 20th century everything accomplished then seems rather immature, almost childish, now.This dwarf planet, Ceres, had been selected for habitation back in the early 21st century. The atmosphere, such as it was, could not support human life. But it did have an internal ‘ocean’ of water. While the White House was set on landing and inhabiting Mars, NASA and a small group of engineers set about to determine whether or not it would be feasible to go underground on Ceres. Yes, build a city below the surface. Here.It took several years to get funding but finally a mini space lab was launched and fell into orbit around the dwarf. The space lab, actually a cargo ship but funding was quicker if it was a lab, carried men, equipment and supplies to create an underground cavern. The cavern was quickly oxygenated and the work on the city went smoothly. First they built living quarters. Then they worked on laboratories and offices.Building was suspended for a short term while the United States engaged itself in another war. They seemed to do that a lot in the old days. Soon however, regular supply ships were arriving and the dwarf planet was colonized.Humans who lived and worked on Ceres did complain that just housing wasn’t sufficient. By the close of the century, a restaurant, a few utilitarian shops, and a park were constructed. Each supply ship brought more luxuries and more humans.The environment on earth was becoming more and more toxic as time went on. There was talk of creating a second underground facility devoted to manufacturing and hydroponic gardening on Ceres. Fresh food was becoming scarce on earth. And little could be transported to this colony. The garden was accomplished successfully.By mid 22nd Century the dwarf planet was fairly self-sustaining. The variety of people gradually changed – there were races from all over the world, few were human. The ruling race, yes – it happened, controlled the docking ports. There was a problem with reproduction of their peoples. However, there was no difficulty reproducing their people on earth. While still in their infancy, children were literally herded by the hundreds onto transport ships on earth and sent to a new home on the dwarf planet. There they would be educated and become viable working members of the colony.Larisse thought it never made sense that it was impossible to produce children, new beings, at this station. To import babies from Mother Earth seemed totally ridiculous. Totally. There should be no reason the replicators here cannot produce as well as those on ME. She didn’t understand science or reproduction well enough to fully understand many things. But, like most people, she wouldn’t believe most things even if told. Half of the newcomers were not ready for real life – in her judgment. They seemed totally disjointed more than half the time…barely able to function. The time it takes for the transport ship to make the trip should be long enough for the infants to mature. Her race attained maturity in a matter of months usually. True, there are no tutors aboard. But time alone should be enough for physical maturity. Perhaps it was something else that make them so ‘useless’. Larisse herself was an earth baby but she is positive she was never so helpless as the last few shipments had been.No, it wasn’t the atmosphere. They just weren’t ready. The atmosphere is not ME quality, but only human engineers born before 2140 need breathing apparatus. Everyone else had acclimated immediately. But some of these ‘children’, as they are called by the government, just aren’t ready for prime time. They should stay on Mother Earth another year to mature. They had little form. Their obvious lack of living knowledge made Larisse’s job doubly difficult.When a ship docked, Larisse went aboard with her clipboard to verify passengers before allowing them to disembark. This was one of the toughest parts of her job as greeter. It seems that more than half of these newcomers don’t know their names. Unfortunately, their boarding passes do not have names, just lot and number. Many of them have misplaced their boarding documents during the eight month flight. Larisse tried her best to get them all off the ship and into the city in a timely manner. She checked the number on the tag around each one’s neck, found it on the shipping advice and asked, “And what is your name?” She tried to be kind and understanding but kindness and understanding weren’t enough.Much of the time, they mumbled or spoke too softly for her to hear, or understand. She wrote down whatever it sounded like. There were times, she was sure, that Jane became Joyce or Brown was Bruin, or the other way around. But, what’s the difference? If they don’t know who they are when they arrive, they’ll respond to whatever they’re called later. Their identification packets are produced from her list. What was on the list was it. If, when she repeated a name, the newcomer corrected her, she’d make a change. Otherwise, the name – wrong or not- was theirs forever. This sometimes caused confusion among the newcomers the first week or so. Eventually they responded properly.Once the ship was cleared, Larisse led the group to the elevator. The atmosphere on the surface would suffice, but the old-timers who had established this colony insisted on building below the surface. The quarters were spacious. The city, while not large, included many laboratories, several stores, a movie theater, a bowling alley, roller rink, and a simulated park with grass, a small lake, and ducks. Newcomers were always impressed with the ducks. There were no ducks left on ME. Larisse had to research bowling, roller rink, and movies. These were pastimes of the first people to inhabit Ceres. The humans. While the activities sounded interesting, they also sounded quite tedious to Larisse. Physical exercise never made much sense to her. Evidently it was important to the first settlers.Below the surface, the aged engineers did not require breathing apparatus. They seemed to enjoy life below ground very much. She was surprised at how very old many of them were. Apparently, living in outer space lengthens the life of humans. Her own race can last forever if not exposed to excessive heat for long periods of time. Heat wasn’t a concern on Ceres.Larisse has heard the old humans say it was almost like being back on earth. She felt sorry for them as they were unaware that earth no longer had fresh air or lakes or green grass. Most of them had been at this station from the very beginning. Only one of the original crew had expired.Larisse never quite understood ‘expired’. When one old engineer tried to explain death to her, it made no sense. She didn’t understand the inability to just buy a new part when an old one wore out. Of course, she had never seen a part called a heart in the local parts store. She wasn’t sure if she, herself, had a heart. Larisse had finished the recommended schooling but anatomy was not a required subject. In fact, was there such a class offered? She could not recall.On one of her off-days, Larisse found a small room she had not known of before. There were several trees in a small group at the convergence of the walk past the roller rink and the walk to the main shopping area. Behind the trees – well, not actually behind them, but sort of hidden by them, was a door. It was tucked into a corner. Larisse had full access to the city as she was an employee and had keys to everything. But this door wasn’t locked. It intrigued her and she wondered how she had never seen it before today. What could lie beyond? She decided the best way to find out is to open it.

Larisse looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. While she had authority to go everywhere and anywhere, she was still hesitant to open the door. No one was in sight when she pulled on the long, upright handle. The door must not have been opened in some time as it creaked and dust blew up as it silently swung open. Dust is very unusual in the City.

What had she found? The room in front of her was dimly lit. There was a lot of furniture placed about in the center of the room. Tables and chairs sat neatly in two rows. There was also some soft type furniture. She saw a photo once of this type of seating – was it called a couch? a sofa? something like that. As she stepped further into the room there was a sign on a short pole. “This is your library. Please be considerate and maintain quiet. Library hours are daily 9am- 9pm.”

What is a library? Larisse has never heard the word before. If she had, she doesn’t recall it- or its meaning. This must be one of the first rooms built as no one is concerned with time anymore. She recalled seeing that type designation at the docking port several decades ago. It was so long she has already forgotten what the letters mean.

A quick glance around told Larisse that a library is a room filled with books. She had heard of books, even saw several when there were many humans here, back when she was new. But that was some time ago. She had not imagined there could be so many books, especially in one place. Larisse went from shelf to shelf reading the words printed on the books. How dull. Nothing really appealed to her curiosity. There were several labeled “Shakespeare”. Was that the name of the book? Taking one of those off the shelf, she leafed through the pages. A faint odor wafted out – she didn’t recognize it. Ah! Shakespeare wrote the book. One of the first pages said so. It didn’t look the least bit interesting. Larisse is fluent in English but these words made little sense. She put Shakespeare back on the shelf where she had gotten him.

A sign on the end of one shelf said “contemporary fiction”. Riffling through several books on that shelf proved very boring. She circled round the room. There must be more than a thousand books here. And none of them appealed to her.

Then she came to the shelf labeled ‘Games and Toys’. Games? Well, that might be interesting. The first book had pictures. Almost all of the pictures illustrated people who resemble the old engineers. Standard humanoid form. No one looks quite like that anymore. Well, except for the oldest colonists.

Back to reading words visible on the books, she came to a book titled “Toys of the 21st Century.” What kind of toys were popular on ME so many years ago?

She pulled the book from the shelf. The first several chapters featured several games – electronics mostly. They sounded like Fun, sort of. There weren’t games called WII, Nintendo or Atari on Ceres. Of course, this type electronic was so outdated. She laughed. This is what the old engineers played with? How droll. These were fun? Incredible! Larisse always felt that the engineers were a bit slow. Reading the description of some of the games caused her to laugh out loud. Ridiculous. She could not believe anyone could have been entertained for long with any of these old things. Perhaps humans weren’t as clever as they have always tried to make us believe. Clarisse thought on that a few moments. Perhaps they aren’t.

The next section in the book was about other toys. Bicycles, sleds, skates, miniature vehicles, skis, things Larisse had never heard of before. She read the descriptions carefully. Some of the illustrations were quite intriguing but the toys themselves – not so much.

The next chapter began with things called Lincoln Logs and Erector sets. They were more interesting than anything she had seen so far in the book. There were several pages touting the various accessories for the Erector set. And pictures showing things that had been made with the toy. What is a ferris wheel? The description says it will rotate with an accessory motor. But Larisse didn’t understand its purpose. It is truly a strange looking device.

As she turned the next page, she gasped. This looked like a family album. Why were her ancestors in a book of 21st century toys? She leafed through several pages, more in shock than in awe. She had heard of this in family folklore but why are they listed as toys?

Larisse vaguely recalled stories of relatives who added wheels, treads, rotors, and other outrageous accessories to themselves. More than a century ago. According to legend handed down, her own family at the time chose to shun these new and unusual characteristics. They were barbaric. If the gods had wanted us to have wheels, we would have come equipped with them. Of course, in time, many of the accessories became usual, normal; to own and to wear. But at the beginning, according to family tales, they were not openly welcomed. That was such old folklore. Larisse had never truly believed any of it. Things do evolve over time. Apparently, the 21st century was when all the various mutations of her race began. Looking at the illustrations that accompanied the descriptions, Larisse could see several similarities to herself and her friends. Well, some. There is a strong family resemblance though many of these were obviously foreigners; their colors were so garish.

The heading on the next page “LEGO Kits”. The following page was headed “LEGO 3-in-1 Collection”. Turning the page she was faced with “LEGO Accessories”. There was a footnote on this page. Every element in Larisse’s body shuddered as she read it. “By 2000 LEGO kits were offered with accessories designed to make the LEGO brick the most popular toy of two centuries.”

Oh my god of the universe, LEGOs are not toys. They are the future of the earth. Every month she greets new LEGOs to the Ceres Colony. They will be the saviors of Mother Earth. The things LEGOs do here will someday repopulate the earth. Someday they will create new plant life on earth; perhaps even rejuvenate the oxygen system on earth so that humans can remain there, out in the open as they once lived.

Larisse hugged the book close to her. She was sad. Is it true that she and nearly everyone here are descendants of a 21st century toy?

No, it can’t be true. She replaced the book on the shelf. For several minutes she was deep in thought. Should she reveal any of this to her co-workers, her friends. She paced through the small library. No. No. She cannot tell anyone about this book. She looked around and found a small desk. The sign said “Head Librarian”. Someone worked here at one time. But it was before Larisse came here -so a very long time before. They may have left instruments to use to make a sign. She went through the drawers looking for something useful. Perhaps she should place a No Trespass sign on this door. Or just perhaps a Do Not Enter sign would do.

The implements she found in the drawers of the desk were unknown to Larisse. Bic pens and Ticonderoga pencils and Sharpies. These were all cradled in a small tray in the top desk drawer. What were they? What purpose did they have in a library? She decided she had nothing to create a sign.

She reasoned that as she has just found this door, perhaps no one else will find it any time soon. There was nothing outside to put in front of the door to block entry. Its very out-of-the-way location has kept it secret this long; perhaps it will not be found again soon. Not many workers use this corridor. She closed the door firmly. Later she will return with a sign warning others to not enter. The newcomers were barely ready to work. Something this demoralizing could destroy them completely. No one should discover their ancestors were once considered mere playthings. She was proud to be a LEGO. This discovery must be kept secret.

END

Why not?

The vast majority of refugees, war casualty, infrastructure destruction, and regime change this century have been caused by US-led NATO.

Every conflict this century has seen the appearance of NATO armaments—the enablers of death and destruction. Countries devastated by NATO machinations remain a pale shadow of their former selves. Just look at the Arab Spring, which has morphed into the perpetual Arab Winter. Whereas Chechnya and Georgia today are even more prosperous and built-up than their Soviet days.

At the minimum, US decline militarily will bring peace to many hotzones today.

And with peace, a better tomorrow can be realized.

Ambassadors EVACUATING Lebanon; Outbreak of War Deemed “Imminent”

The Ambassadors of Italy, France, England, Sweden, and Germany, have been instructed by their governments to “evacuate Lebanon immediately” because Intelligence information says “war is imminent.”  Diplomatic staff are visibly panicking as they flee.

The Saudi Arabian Embassy in London warns of the risk of world war after the announcement of an imminent Israeli invasion of South Lebanon : ” It is important that everyone understands the danger that awaits us. The conflict will not remain regional, but will very quickly become international. ”

Egypt has sent multiple messages to Washington saying: Do not underestimate Nasrallah’s statements or the capabilities of Hezbollah.”

Iran and the Taliban in Afghanistan are now discussing “joint action” against Israel!

DANGEROUSLY AMBIGUOUS: France announces it is willing to send its armed forces to stand with the Lebanese Army on the Border of Israel.  (None of us can figure this one out.  Will that be to defend Lebanon?  Attack Hezbollah?  Attack Israel?   . . . . . or to surrender to all of them?)

The Canadian military is drawing up plans to evacuate 45,000 people from Lebanon should a full-scale war break out between Israel and Hezbollah.

Sources in US CENTCOM tell me “The US is concerned Israel’s Iron Dome could be overwhelmed in war with Hezbollah.”  This right after giving all patriot missiles for defense to Ukraine!

The original deadline given to Hezbollah by Israel was to move its forces north of the Litani River BY JUNE 24.   Hezbollah has already flatly refused.   It is now not clear if Israel will step-up its timetable, or if Hezbollah will be the ones to initiate combat.  This could begin literally at any moment.

UPDATE 4:54 PM EDT —

Kuwait urges its citizens to avoid travel to Lebanon.

Shorpy

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Wasn’t exactly “revenge” since I did not have to do anything, I guess it is more like Karma.

Worked at a radio station for 5 years, filled in at one point as a temp. Operations Manager for a few months until the guy they wanted could run out his contract. At one point, I unknowingly amassed the paperwork trail needed to get a Production Manager fired for moonlighting on company time. At management’s request.

One day we got a new hire that never worked in the business before. They asked I train her. Ok, no problem right? (Well, I know better now). She burns through all her vacation and PTO within 3 months of hire. On the 4th month, it’s announced she will be the new Operations Manager. I expressed my displeasure at the position never have been posted as being open and never interviewed it despite having done the job previously while the new guy they just hired quit within the year. I was told I should quit. No way. I would be leaving on my own accord when I was ready. I was told to think about it overnight and hand in my resignation the next day. Told them it wasn’t going to happen. Next day I’m asked for my resignation letter. Told them I wasn’t doing it. They said they would fire me and contest any claim for unemployment. I told them they could do what they wanted, there was no record of poor work performance, no bad reviews, and my paper trail as acting OM and I had copies of the work I did that led to the PM getting fired would speak for itself. They fired me on the spot.

Went back into the control booth with the new girl to gather my belongings. The program tape (way before the digital age ) currently on-air runs out. Dead Air. A HUGE no-no if you don’t know the business. She looks at me and asks what to do next, what program is next, where is it, etc. I just look at her and say, “It’s not my problem anymore since I don’t work here. It’s your problem now.” Phones start ringing off the hook. Front office staff come back, “Why are we off the air?” “Is there a problem with the equipment?” I point to her. “Ask her, she’s in charge now, I no longer work here.” Sales staff start freaking out. Now commercials aren’t running either. I take my leave.

I found out later from an ex co-worker she screwed everything up for the next hour and a half. Guess she wasn’t paying attention to the day to day stuff I had been showing her and was busy with the outgoing OM trying to learn his job too since that was the plan all along. She also messed up all the procedures I had in place to keep the stations on-air to implement her way of getting things done and caused other problems with distributors and shows not getting aired at all. Violation of contracts that cost the station even more money. She also hired a friend to replace me, who ended up stealing very expensive microphones from the studios as well as other things that went missing.

I don’t believe she lasted 6 months after I was fired.

Western Empire Facing Same Collapse as Rome in its Final Days: Martin Armstrong

Martin Armstrong sees striking similarities between the multitude of crises that plague the modern world and the conditions just before the fall of the Roman empire. Martin argues that endless debt issuance, wars for profit, unchecked migration, and rampant political corruption are setting the stage for a future where many Western countries cease to exist as we know them.

A few days ago my ex son-in-law asked me if I wanted to get my four year old granddaughter off the bus and watch her for a few hours. She and I went to visit my mother, and then I took her to see her mother for some rare Mommy daughter time. All went well, both my daughter and granddaughter enjoyed their time together.

On the way back, I told my Granddaughter that she was awesome during the short ride and visit. Little Jabberjaws soon became quiet… (When a normally talkative 4 year old becomes quiet, it can be a good bet that something is up.) When she didn’t answer me, I pulled off the road to see what was going on. Quiet tears were rolling down her face. I asked her what was wrong, In a heart rendering voice she asked, “Papa, why don’t Mom and Dad think I’m awesome?” She noticed a tear in my eye (that I attributed to a bug). I composed myself, and told her that they thought she was awesome as well.

I had to stop at my home before taking her back to her place. During this time she was constantly wanting to hug me and was telling me how happy she is when she’s with ‘Papa’.

As we walked the few blocks to her home, she insisted on holding my hand the entire way. Just before we went into her place, she gave me a hug and told me she wished that Mom would come back home.

Heart-strings are so fragile…

Randy

Prof. Mearsheimer WARNS: Russia May be FORCED to Launch a Nuclear Attack Preemptively

In this video Prof. John Mearsheimer, the prominent international relations scholar, discusses the Ukraine peace negotiations and war dynamics. Topics include: the legitimacy of the peace summit in Switzerland, the exclusion of Russia from negotiations, the shifting balance of power in the conflict, and the risks of nuclear escalation. Mearsheimer suggests Ukraine's neutrality as a solution.

There are several reasons:

  1. They’re projecting. This is a psychological term referring to how people project their own behavioural tendencies on others. They think that because they’re inclined to suppress and exploit other countries, China will, too.
  2. They’re paranoid. This is the natural consequence of projection.
  3. They’re xenophobic or Sinophobic. They don’t understand the Chinese and their culture and society. The Chinese are peaceful; they’re only interested in trading with other countries.
  4. They’re pro-American. They want the USA to remain the dominant world power. They believe the USA is good for the world (never mind about the endless wars and endless sanctions).

Espresso Chile Glazed Ham

For this, use a fully cooked smoked ham, preferably wood smoked with no water added. Trim the outside layer of fat and skin all the way to the pink meat, so when you’re ready to carve you don’t cut away all the flavorful glaze.

Sweet chili pineapple glazed ham 2508 April 06 2023
Sweet chili pineapple glazed ham 2508 April 06 2023

Yield: 16 or more servings

Ingredients

  • Half a fully cooked smoked ham (about 8 pounds)
  • 1 quart fresh orange juice
  • 1 tablespoon grated orange zest
  • 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
  • 1 cup Kahlua or other coffee-flavored liqueur
  • 1 tablespoon Chinese chile paste with garlic, or sambal olek
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 shots (about 1/4 cup total) brewed espresso or 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder, like Medaglio d’Oro

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 325 degrees F.
  2. Cut the thick layer of fat and skin from the ham and discard. Place the ham in a roasting pan. (For easier clean up, line the pan with aluminum foil because the glaze will drip off and burn.) Roast the ham for 1 hour.
  3. While the ham is roasting, make the glaze. Combine the orange juice and zest, brown sugar, Kahlua, chile paste, and pepper in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to medium and simmer the mixture until it is reduced by about half and is as thick as maple syrup, about 35 minutes.
  4. Whisk in the espresso or espresso powder. You should have almost 2 cups of glaze. You are going to use half this glaze to brush the ham while it is roasting, and reserve the other half for brushing on the ham after it is sliced.
  5. After the first hour of cooking, brush the ham with the glaze. Roast for another hour, brushing with the glaze every 15 minutes. Since the ham is already cooked, you just need to warm it all the way through. Check for an internal temperature of 130 degrees F to 140 degrees F using an instant-read meat thermometer. Remove the ham from the oven when it is nicely browned and warmed through.
  6. To serve, slice the ham and brush the slices with the remaining glaze. For a lovely presentation, slice half the ham and arrange the slices against the unsliced part on a big platter. Brush the slices with the remaining glaze.

Newly Arrived To ODESSA 40 FRENCH Soldiers Were Wiped Out By Russian ISKANDER-M Ballistic Missiles

It is reported that particular French officers will operate the Storm Shadow cruise missiles, which were transferred to Ukraine by Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. The fact that sophisticated Western weapons systems are operated in Ukraine exclusively by high-ranking NATO officers is no secret to anyone. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz also confirmed this fact. In particular, speaking in the Bundestag, the German Chancellor let slip that the Storm Shadow cruise missiles, also known as the SCALP-EG, are operated and maintained exclusively by British and French officers in Ukraine......

We moved into a house my daughter and son in law bought in their gated community so that we would move close to them. The exterior of the house was a big mess. My husband worked constantly for 2 months to clean it and the extra lot they bought with the house. It’s between us and the guy behind us that lives next to the golf course. He finally finished and one morning my husband went out and was walking around and realized they had blown a massive pile of moldy debris, leaves, pine cones, sweet gum balls and branches into the back corner. How they even had that much in their yard is a mystery. Their yard is very tiny. My daughter came over, went next door and said something to the guy and he said it’s just an empty lot, she said no I own that lot and it’s my parents back yard. My dad just spent 2 months cleaning it up. He said surely you don’t expect me to remove it and she responded surely you don’t consider that an unreasonable request. He told her it would be a few weeks before he could get someone back out there. She said you have a week. To his credit he got someone out right after the weekend. It started to happen one other time but my husband happened to be outside in the yard and went over and told their yard guy it was our yard. He tried that “it’s just an empty lot” thing. Hubby said no it’s not and I keep it cleaned up. We avoid the guy and his wife and thankfully all the rest of our neighbors are like family and we all watch out for each other.

My goodness!

When I moved in with my girlfriend, everything was great. We had each other’s perpetual company, space for ourselves, and best of all: isolation and freedom.

After a few months, we started getting surprise visits from her parents. They would wake us up by pounding on the door, or sometimes even barge in. Sometimes it was just her mother and father, other times they brought their 5 year old daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with my girlfriend’s sister and even her parents. But these visits were unexpected, untimely, and were happening at an increasing rate. It was obnoxious when we had plans or weren’t feeling like socializing.

That’s when I had an idea: beat them at their own game. Bright and early one morning, I’m talking 4:30am on a weekday, my girlfriend and I picked up our loudest, most obnoxious friend, and ventured over to her parent’s place. I’m sure you can guess what we did, we barged in, shouting “wake up!”, forcing them out of bed. We proceeded to demand they make us breakfast, and spent hours interrupting their morning routines. Pleased with ourselves, we left around 10am and went on with our day.

The visits from them started happening less and less after that day. Today, they notify us if they’re coming over, which is exactly what we wanted the whole time. Why they started doing it in the first place, I’m not sure. In the end, I feel we delivered a powerful statement ironically teaching parents manners.

Damn good statements. Must watch.

Game. Set. Match.

So we danced on their grave…

Many years ago, I worked for Honda doing some R&D into crash safety mechanisms. We ran into an issue where we had actuators requiring a couple of joules to trigger them, but in the context of a car crash we only had a couple of milliseconds. This caused a near intractable problem; a joule is a reasonable amount of energy, a millisecond is a reasonable amount of time in a car crash, but a joule per millisecond is a kilowatt which is an unreasonably large amount of electricity. We just didn’t have spare kilowatts of electrical power sitting around.

One of my Japanese coworkers had an aerospace background, and suggested thermal batteries. These are batteries with almost zero self-discharge and a 20+ year shelf life. When needed, a pyrotechnic charge melts an insulating eutectic salt within the battery, which turns into a liquid and suddenly becomes a highly conductive electrolyte for the battery. When the salt is in its molten form, the battery can provide obscenely large amounts of power for a short amount of time. One American company, EaglePicher, dominates the global supply of thermal batteries.

We worked with Eagle to select a battery that met our needs in rapid melting, and tried to buy two of these batteries for our tests. We ran into an issue where they were held up in US customs in LAX for several months, requiring lots of paperwork before we could get them to the testing facility in Tochigi prefecture, Japan. When the batteries finally arrived in Japan, we understood why. They came in large boxes labeled “CAUTION MISSILE PARTS”.

In looking for a battery with light weight, good shelf life, and the ability to rapidly produce kilowatts of electricity, we had accidentally selected the exact model of battery used to power the radar in an AIM-120 AMRAAM, the advanced medium range air to air missile used by the USAF.

So, one answer to the question is that some missiles use thermal batteries.

I will note that I’m translating from Japanese. I called them “netsu denchi” at work, and I’m pretty sure the English name is “thermal battery”, but it’s a technology I’ve never worked with in English, even though English is my first language. They are also called “molten salt batteries” and I’m not sure which English name is more common.

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China’s modernization beyond the expectations of Canadian vlogger

You use liquid propellants because it gives you better performance.

But you have to load it right before you launch it.

So satellite launches use liquid.

Missiles use solid. Solid propellant is very stable and is sealed into the rocket engine. So no air reaches the fuel. It can sit somewhere for years or a decade and still work when taken off the shelf.

Pregnant Cat Sits in the Rain, Having Nowhere to Go and Begging for Food On the Road

In 2019, a retired French police officer joined a popular game show on television. He laughed, sharing some banter with the host. Just a friendly older gentleman, having some fun. His name was François Vérove and he didn’t do very well in the show — after just two rounds, he was booted from the show. He took it in stride, and went off. Its all fun and games, right?

main qimg 963fa03b1800f7c199066daf9a3a026d
main qimg 963fa03b1800f7c199066daf9a3a026d

In the 1980s and 1990s, a series of rapes and crimes shocked the Paris region. Nine young girls and children died in the attacks, twenty more survived. Barely. Those who survived all described the attacker as “a pock-marked man”. He would flash his police badge to get the young victims to cooperate. They would do as he told them, although authorities believed he likely made use of a false badge. The perpetrator couldn’t possible be one of them, right?

main qimg b03fbc483e0748eeffa529a86f1ce685
main qimg b03fbc483e0748eeffa529a86f1ce685

But he was. It was police officer François Vérove all along.

Vérove changed his appearance, growing a beard to hide his facial scars, scars that were particularly bad in the lower half of his face according to some survivors. He married, fathered two children and lived a normal life. In 1997, he committed his final murder. He then stopped, afraid DNA evidence would one day catch up with him. Still, he didn’t hide — he even joined a game show, laughing with the host and audience…

François Vérove received a phone call in 2021 — all police officers active in the area the killings took place were to give a DNA sample to police to help the investigation as recent evidence had shown it may have been a cop, after all. A total of 750 men received the call. Vérove, knowing his time was up, wrote a suicide note confessing to the crime. Then took his own life. Some monsters hide in plain sight, and aren’t shy about being seen.

We had a cheap kiddie swimming pool for the summer when our sons were small. They were having a wonderful time one hot summer day jumping in and out of the pool laughing and occasionally shrieking as they splashed other. At about 11:00am, a police car pulled up in front of the house and an officer walked into the back yard. The kids were very excited to see a policeman until he sternly started lecturing me about a noise complaint from my neighbor.

I was furious (I still am 20 years later). I indignantly pointed out that the “noise complaint” was normal children’s play in the middle of the day when there were no noise restrictions. With a pompous tone, he told me to “keep it down” and he didn’t want to have to return.

This launched 5 years of noise complaints from my neighbor when my sons played in the backyard. We didn’t have the money for a legal fight. I was often forced to keep my children indoors to play because she would complain whenever they were outside.

The noise complaints ended when the kids complained to me that this neighbor was trying to scare them with her car while they were waiting for the school bus. We share a long driveway with a group of houses and all the kids wait for the bus at the entrance to the driveway. I talked with the other neighborhood children who said she yelled at them to get out of her way and drove her car very close to them to scare them to jump into the bushes.

The next morning, I walked down the driveway with my sons to wait for the bus. Sure enough, as we were waiting on the side of the driveway where the bus stopped, the neighbor came whipping into the driveway at a high speed and drove within 6 inches of me. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. I told the dispatcher that my children and I were being threatened by the driver of a motor vehicle while waiting for the bus. The police were there within minutes. The officers took my report with eager embellishment from the neighborhood children until the bus arrived. The officer tried to dismiss it as the long running neighbor dispute. I pointed out that this was a threat with a deadly weapon — a motor vehicle — and that a child could end up injured or dead.

He have a small smile and said “I’ll talk to her.” He must have put the fear of god into her because we never had another complaint and she drives carefully whenever someone is walking in the driveway. I suspect the entire department was tired of her complaints. I think it helped that this was the first complaint I had ever made against her.

But this did have long term consequences. On the good side, my sons were very careful about noise and parties as teens. Today as adults they are both highly skilled esports gamers. But on the negative side, they do not do any outdoor exercise except walking (which is pretty silent). My husband and love being outdoors and my sons do not.

Why I Won’t Move To The USA – American Expat Life

Living abroad for 14 years has given me a unique perspective on the country that I come from. 

Even though I've been far removed from the goings on I've always kept up with what is happening there and have challenged myself on whether expat life is the right life for me, or would moving to the United States be a better choice. 

I believe it's important to take a look at the financial aspects of life abroad and in this episode, I'll bring up some comparisons specifically in regard to the cost of living in Portugal compared to the US, and the resulting implications for work-life balance. 

But as an American abroad, there are some elements I also can't help but look at such as the American work ethic, credit scores, and opportunities for small business. Yet while there are positives that are possible to look at, there are approaches to life I feel are more common to find among certain cultures. 

One such problem that unfortunately, I find more among many Americans is how material pursuits can overshadow some of life's most meaningful moments and details that can be missed. 

In this expat living abroad podcast episode of Not Your Average Globetrotter hosted by me, Rafael Di Furia, will take a critical exploration of American dynamics from an expat's perspective.

Many times! I was just a little girl. My Mother and I were at the grocery store when a man came up to my Mom, greeting her. She said hello as she grabbed me, pulling me behind her and pressed my body close to her. I didn’t know why she did that, the man was just saying “Hello” He bent down and asked me “And who do we have here?”

I was just about to tell him my name when my Mom blurted out “This is my youngest daughter.” He smiled and said “WOW! You have your hands full!” “8 girls and 1 boy, how do you manage?” “If you need I can take this one off your hands!”

He playfully reached around and held out his hand. It scared me. He seemed serious about taking my hand. My older sister came around the corner and saw the man reaching for me.

She told the man, “ I highly suggest you leave my Mom and sister alone!” “I’m going to tell my Father you had the gall to even greet my Mother and reach for my sister!” She was very angry.

He said it wasn’t necessary to tell my Father.( I know why now 😁)We got home and I asked why the man seemed odd(to the least!)

Mom told me “Do you know monsters are real?”

I was wide eyed and afraid. Mom told me monster’s do exist but it’s hard to tell because they look like a normal person. She said anytime you see that man walk away or find anyone around and tell them this man is bad.

Help me and make him go away. “ I will but why?” This man has been in jail because he took a child walking home and threw them in his car. He is mean to children.

A few weeks earlier 3 of my sisters were at the Five and Dime store. He took my 3 year old Cousin from my sister’s arms and started running away with him. My sisters screamed for help and yelled “STOP THAT MAN, HE JUST TOOK MY SON!” “HELP!” HE HAS MY BABY, STOP HIM!”

A man nearby tripped him, my sister grabbed my Cousin and the man started hitting him and yelled for someone to call 911. The police came and arrested him.

My sisters told the police he said “Your baby has beautiful teeth but he won’t after I get ahold of him.” The cashier called my parents.(This was in the early 70’s so no cell phones)

My Father approached the man and told him what he was going to do to him and they weren’t nice things. I told this story to my son years later. I told him monster’s don’t always look like the monsters we see in movies. They look like a regular person. If you ever get a bad feeling when you’re talking to an adult, trust your feelings and run away. I want you to yell “Stranger danger” as loud as you can and run to anyone nearby.

I didn’t want to scare my son but on the other hand I did. I told him exactly what the stranger may do to him if he took him. The expression on my son’s face was pure fear. I had to tell him though because that way he’d understand. Tell your kids about “Stranger danger” and make sure they understand. It could save thier life. ❤️

"I have one question for you: can you watch Chinese or Russian TV in Switzerland?

[In Germany, we cannot. In Switzerland, we can have Russia Today, but in Germany, everything is forbidden.]

If it's forbidden, is it a democracy?

In Serbia, you can watch Ukrainian TV, Russian TV, Chinese TV, and also American TV, British TV, Swiss TV, French TV, German TV—whichever you want. That's your choice.

Who is defining what democracy is?

You know, when I was very young, almost a kid, I was very bad at drawing or painting—totally untalented.

I drew a horse, but the horse didn't look like a horse. I had to make an inscription below saying, 'This is a horse.'

That's what they do today.

When nobody sees that there are democratic forces, they say, 'We are democracy, and you are not.' And that's it."

main qimg 9f4964b5f5d76e811463c4acbe91d582
main qimg 9f4964b5f5d76e811463c4acbe91d582

Excerpt from remarks by Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić in an interview with Roger Köppel for Die Weltwoche, June 8, 2024.

Small Black Bundles

We all have too much to lose. Guest post by Robert Gore at Straight Line Logic

The Biden administration and NATO have steadily escalated participation in the Ukraine-Russia war. Recently, Biden authorized Ukraine missile attacks deeper into Russia’s territory using U.S.-made ATACMS ballistic missiles, which have a range of up to 190 miles. All of the expertise necessary to target and guide these attacks will come from the U.S. and NATO.

On May 22, Ukraine drones attacked two Russian nuclear early warning radars at Armavir. Much of the targeting and guidance expertise had to have come from the U.S. and NATO. Suddenly deprived of part of their ability to detect incoming threats, if the Russians had assumed the worse—that they were under nuclear attack and the drone strike was meant to cripple their command and control capabilities—the U.S. and NATO risked a nuclear response.

 

The U.S.-led alliance is at war with Russia, a fact that’s downplayed or ignored by American mainstream media. Being in a “hot” war with Russia increases the likelihood of nuclear war, triggered either accidentally or intentionally, beyond even the possibility that existed during the Cold War. That possibility was almost realized during the Cuban Missile Crisis. John F. Kennedy and Nikita Khrushchev demonstrated wisdom and courage in stepping away from the brink. Now, both sides are trash talking, threatening to use nuclear weapons. Their bluster increases the chances of nuclear war.

An American public that was recently scared into masks, social distancing, lockdowns, deadly experimental vaccines, and the evisceration of civil liberties by a germ about as dangerous as a bad flu bug seems blissfully unaware of the much more severe risks of nuclear war. American officials prattle on about “tactical” nuclear weapons, “escalatory dominance,” and “limited” nuclear war, oblivious to the reality that they control only one side of a chain of decisions to respond and escalate once a conflict goes nuclear.

It would be enlightening to review the effects of atomic bombs on the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945. The following excerpts and quotes come from The Making of the Atomic Bomb, by Richard Rhodes, Simon and Schuster, 1986, from a chapter titled “Tongues of Fire.” The Hiroshima bomb was the equivalent of 12,500 tons of TNT and the Nagasaki bomb 22,000 tons of TNT. Current thermonuclear, or hydrogen, bombs—predominantly deployed today—have an explosive force three orders of magnitude greater, measured in the tens of millions of tons of TNT, over 1,000 times as powerful. So far, these have never been used against humans.

On the morning of August 6, 1945, 8:16:02 local time, “Little Boy,” a uranium-235 gun-type fission bomb dropped from Enola Gay, an American B-29, exploded 1,900 feet above a hospital in Hiroshima.

“Just as I looked up at the sky,” remembers a girl who was five years old at the time and safely at home in the suburbs, “there was a flash of white light and the green in the plants looked in that light like the color of dry leaves.” Pg. 713

The temperature at the hypocenter, the point on the ground directly below the explosion, was 5,400 degrees Fahrenheit.

. . . . People exposed within half a mile of the Little Boy fireball, that is, were seared to bundles of smoking black char in a fraction of a second as their internal organs boiled away. “Doctor,” a patient commented to Michihiko Hachiya a few days later, “a human being who has been roasted becomes quite small, doesn’t he?” The small black bundles now stuck to the streets and bridges and sidewalks of Hiroshima numbered in the thousands. Pg. 715

The blast wave rocketed several hundred yards from the hypocenter at 2 miles per second before slowing to 1,100 feet per second, destroying everything in its path and throwing up a huge black cloud of smoke and dust.

That boy had been in a room at the edge of the river, looking out at the river when the explosion came, and in that instant as the house fell apart he was blown from the end room across the road on the river embankment and landed on the street below it. In that distance he passed through a couple of windows inside the house and his body was stuck full of all the glass it could hold. That is why he was completely covered with blood like that. Pg. 716

Perhaps the black bundles’ instantaneous deaths were a blessing. From a grocer who escaped into the street:

The appearance of people, was . . . well, they all had skin blackened by burns. . . . They had no hair because their hair was burned, and at a glance you couldn’t tell whether you were looking at them from in front or in back. . . . They held their arms [in front of them] . . . and their skin—not only on their hands, but on their faces and bodies too—hung down. . . . If there had been only one or two such people . . . perhaps I would not have had such a strong impression. But wherever I walked I met these people. . . . Many of them died along the road—I can still picture them in my mind—like walking ghosts. . . . They didn’t look like people of this world. . . . They had a very special way of walking—very slowly. . . . I myself was one of them. Pgs. 717-718

From a young woman:

I heard a girl’s voice clearly from behind a tree. “Help me, please.” Her back was completely burned and the skin peeled off and was hanging down from her hips. Pg. 718

A young sociologist:

The most impressive thing I saw was some girls, very young girls, not only with their clothes torn off but with their skin peeled off as well. . . . My immediate thought was that this was like the hell I had always read about. Pg. 718

A five-year-old boy:

That day after we escaped and came to Hijiyama Bridge, there were lots of naked people who were so badly burned that the skin of their whole body was hanging from them like rags. Pg. 718

A five-year-old girl:

People came fleeing from the nearby streets. One after another they were almost unrecognizable. The skin was burned off some of them and was hanging from their hands and from their chins; their faces were red and so swollen that you could hardly tell where their eyes and mouths were. Pg. 719

The burns, heat, and sounds of horror were unbearable. From a junior-college girl:

Screaming children who have lost sight of their mothers; voices of mothers searching for their little ones; people who can no longer bear the heat, cooling their bodies in cisterns; every one among the fleeing people is dyed red with blood. Pg. 719

Compounding the horror and agony were the fires and smoke. From a five-year-old girl:

The whole city . . . was burning. Black smoke was billowing up and we could hear the sound of big things exploding. . . . Those dreadful streets. The fires were burning. There was a strange smell all over. Blue-green balls of fire were drifting around. I had a terrible lonely feeling that everybody else in the world was dead and only we were still alive. Pg. 720

From a seventeen-year-old girl:

I walked past Hiroshima Station . . . and saw people with their bowels and brains coming out. Pg. 721

To escape the raging fires, many people went to fire reservoirs or one of the seven rivers that flowed through Hiroshima. From a physician sharing his horror with Michihiko Hachiya, director of the Hiroshima Communications Hospital, who kept a dairy of the bombing and its aftermath:

I saw fire reservoirs filled to the brim with dead people who looked as though they had been boiled alive. In one reservoir I saw a man, horribly burned, crouch beside another man who was dead. He was drinking blood-stained water out of the reservoir. Pg 724.

From a young ship designer trying to reach a train station to return to his home in, of all places, Nagasaki:

I had to cross the river to reach the station. As I came to the river and went down the bank to the water, I found that the stream was filled with dead bodies. I started to cross by crawling over the corpses, on my hands and knees. As I got about a third of the way across, a dead body began to sink under my weight and I went into the water, wetting my burned skin. It pained severely. I could go no further, as there was a break in the bridge of corpses, so I turned back to the shore. Pgs. 725-726

From one of Dr. Hachiya’s patients:

The sight of the soldiers, though, was more dreadful than the dead people floating down the river. I came onto I don’t know how many, burned from the hips up; and where the skin had peeled, their flesh was wet and mushy. . . .

And they had no faces! Their eyes, noses and mouths had been burned away, and it looked like their ears had melted off. It was hard to tell front from back. Pg. 726

From a man trying to help his wife escape the city:

While taking my severely-wounded wife out to the riverbank by the side of the hill of Nakahiro-machi, I was horrified, indeed, at the sight of a stark naked man standing in the rain with his eyeball in his palm. He looked to be in great pain but there was nothing that I could do for him. Pg. 725

Many of those who didn’t die in the first few days seemed to improve, but then sickened. American psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton, who interviewed survivors, explained:

Survivors began to notice in themselves and others a strange form of illness. It consisted of nausea, vomiting, and loss of appetite, diarrhea with large amounts of blood in the stools; fever and weakness; purple spots on various parts of the body from bleeding into the skin . . . inflammation and ulceration of the mouth, throat and gums . . . bleeding from the mouth, gums, throat, rectum, and urinary tract . . . loss of hair from the scalp and other parts of the body . . . extremely low white blood cell counts when those were taken . . . and in many case a progressive course until death. Pg 731

It was radiation sickness, or what the Japanese called “atomic bomb illness.”

Direct gamma radiation from the bomb had damaged tissue throughout the bodies of the exposed. The destruction required cell division to manifest itself, but radiation temporarily suppresses cell division; hence the delayed onset of symptoms. The blood-forming tissues were damaged worst, particularly those that produce the white blood cells that fight infection. Large doses of radiation also stimulate the production of an anti-clotting factor. The outcome of these assaults was massive tissue death, massive hemorrhage and massive infection. . . . Pgs 731-732/

An estimated 140,000 were killed by the end of 1945 and 200,000 within five years from the atomic bomb in Hiroshima. The Nagasaki bomb killed 70,000 by the end of 1945 and 140,000 within five years. For both cities, the five-year death rate was about 54 percent of the population. The percentage killed was an inverse function of distance from the hypocenter. At Hiroshima, almost 100 percent were killed at the hypocenter, and the percentage declined to “only” 10 percent two miles away from it. Property damage was extensive. Of Hiroshima’s 76,000 buildings, 70,000 were damaged, of which 48,000 were totally destroyed.

Many of the Americans who made the decision to drop the bombs thought it would prevent the massive loss of allied lives that an invasion of Japan presumably would have entailed. The destructive force of the bombs and the aftereffects of radiation were generally underestimated. Demonstrating to the world, particularly the Soviet Union, the power of the bomb, and preventing a Soviet invasion of Japan were at least as compelling as military necessity for dropping the bombs. Those who thought the bomb was unnecessary included General Dwight Eisenhower, General Douglas MacArthur, Admiral William Leahy, Major General Curtis LeMay, General Hap Arnold, Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz, Brigadier General Carter Clarke, and Ralph Bard, Under Secretary of the Navy.

Almost eighty years later, it’s important to realize that as devastating and deadly as the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs were, they would be relatively tiny compared to what would happen today. The blast, fires, and radiation from one thermonuclear bomb, with a yield of 1,000 times that of the Nagasaki bomb’s 22,000 tons of TNT equivalent, would obliterate a city and surrounding countryside and kill tens of millions of people.

For America’s rulers, the other big difference between then and now is that the other side has its own bombs. Because some of the major nuclear powers’ missiles are carried on submarines, there is no way anyone’s response capability could be wiped out with a first strike. A nuclear strike against Russia or China would mean nuclear bombs dropped on American targets.

What should stop American rulers dead in their tracks is that Russia would be better able to withstand a nuclear attack than the U.S. Russian missiles are faster and more maneuverable and their antimissile technology is superior. Russia is much larger than the U.S. and has more room to hide. Their civil defense measures are far more extensive. Russia, as its history repeatedly demonstrates, knows how to play defense, even in the face of staggering losses.

Before the bomb, wars were often won by the side that was able to escalate to a point where the other side couldn’t match it. The World War I standoff was broken when the U.S. entered the war. The idea of escalatory dominance makes no sense when either side of a conflict can escalate to nuclear war and the other side can respond in kind. Seeking escalatory dominance risks escalatory annihilation of both sides, and perhaps of the entire global population.

These considerations would prevent, among rational people, any sort of threat or provocation that could lead to nuclear war. That the U.S. is playing nuclear chicken with Russia is all the proof one needs that its rulers are insane. They may take comfort from their supposedly bomb-proof bunkers and airborne command-and-control centers, but bombs detonated simultaneously in Washington, New York, and Silicon Valley would wipe them out before they ever reached those bunkers or jets.

Nothing is more insane than the desire to destroy one’s self. Among the West’s rulers, this subconscious desire manifests itself in their reaction to a global realignment of power. Their proxy war and sanctions against Russia have been disastrous failures. Russia and China lead a confederation of a majority of the world’s countries that threatens to eclipse the U.S.-led global billion. Western economies rest on a tottering foundation of debt. The totalitarian plans of globalist string-pullers are floundering on the plans’ inherent unworkability and the resistance of millions of people, empowered by decentralizing communications, computing, and weapons technologies (see “Ants at the Picnic,” Parts One and Two).

In their desperation, Western rulers have reached this point: “If we can’t rule the world, we’ll destroy it.” Facing the loss of their exalted positions and potential prosecution for their many crimes, don’t put it past this human excrement to start a nuclear war in a burst of terminal nihilism. Their cohorts in Israel (a nuclear power) may reach the same point in the Middle East—suicide is better than concession.

Even yesterday’s COVID cowards seem indifferent to today’s much more substantial dangers: instant incineration, boiled organs, skin peeling, eyeballs popping, ears melting, body-wide burns, deadly radiation sickness, and, for those that survive, the complete destruction of everything they have and their way of life. There would be hundreds of millions or billions of small black bundles. The death toll would be a several orders-of-magnitude multiple of COVID and its deadly vaccines’ combined final tally. Incidentally, climate would change for the worse, but the climate-change crowd seems unconcerned.

Many Americans may share their rulers’ death wish. Those of us who don’t must do what we can to stop the insane and their insanity. We can start by refusing to support any politician who advocates escalation in either Eastern Europe or the Middle East, rather than diplomacy, negotiations, and peaceful resolutions. Not one dime or weapon more should go to Ukraine or Israel, who both seek full-fledged U.S. military involvement in their wars—escalation that could lead to nuclear war and annihilation. There is no U.S. “interest” that justifies running that risk, certainly not an “interest” in maintaining a faltering empire.

Admittedly a political boycott of war mongering politicians is only a small step, but it’s more than anyone’s doing now. The “movement” would gain membership after the first nuclear bomb detonates, but by then it may well be too late.

Please share this article as widely as possible.

USA is NOT betting on Taiwan.

USA knows it cannot militarily fight China in case of a Taiwan war. Simple reason: distance.

Besides, USA is using China’s Beidou (Chinese version of GPS) which surpasses GPS. China will turn off Beidou in case of a Taiwan war.

A year or 2 ago, there was a China-USA standoff at Guam. Finally, USA left.

What USA is doing with Taiwan is ARMS SALE. Taiwan is a US cash cow. Taiwan has paid dont-know-how-much to buy US weapons but has not received the weapons yet. See, Taiwan is a typical cash cow for USA.

By the way, Taiwan is a province of China, UN says so. Taiwan is China’s internal affairs. UN charter approves any country to protect the integrity of its territory. No country can tolerate secession. Not your country. Not China either.

So China is not invading Taiwan, but to suppress secession. Let’s make that clear.

Vintage illustration

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Western chip sanctions guaranteed to fail as thousands of top Chinese scientists return home

S-500 Deployed Earlier Than Expected; Posture Now Consistent with Nuclear First-Strike

Yesterday, this website and radio show reported that Russia had suddenly commenced nuclear launch exercises with their naval group off the coast of Florida.  What I chose to **not** report was that at the same time, Russia expanded its ongoing “Tactical nuclear weapons exercises” from the Southern Military District to also include the Leningrad Military District near St. Petersburg.

The unannounced missile drills off the coast of Florida was nerve-racking enough; but the added information about the expansion of tactical nuke drills to the area around St. Petersburg was just emotionally over the top.

TODAY things got exponentially worse.

Overnight, Russia deployed the second generation of its S-500 air defense systems . . .  around Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Russia’s strategic nuclear missile silos.

This second generation system – the undisputed pinnacle of air defense systems in the world – was not expected to be ready for deployment for at least another six months.

The fact that Russia deployed them last night, and did so in very significant numbers for which mass-production wasn’t even known to be ready, never mind active, around Moscow, St. Petersburg AND their strategic nuclear missile silos, has now changed the balance of power completely.

There’s no gentle way to say this, so I’m just going to say it: This posture is one that would be expected if Russia was planning a nuclear first-strike upon the West, and was readying to defend itself from the counter-strike.

Looking at the timing of all of this, underscores the harsh reality:

Russia announced Tactical nuclear weapons exercises about three weeks ago, and began them two weeks ago in  their Southern Military District.

Russia then sortied eleven nuclear missile submarines into the Atlantic Ocean, about ten days ago.

About three days later, Russia then sortied twenty-seven (27) additional nuclear missile submarines into the Pacific Ocean.

Russia then waited about a week (for the subs to get into position????) and EXPANDED the Tactical nuclear exercises to also include the Leningrad Military District around St. Petersburg.

This means the ENTIRE Russian border with the West, is presently seeing the movement of actual, Tactical nuclear weapons, brought to within striking distance of NATO forces and NATO member countries!

Last night, Russia made a surprise deployment of their newest S-500 “Prometheus” air defense system around Moscow, St. Petersburg, and their strategic ICBM silos.

Added together, E V E R Y indication is that Russia is fully prepared now to launch a severe nuclear first-strike, and successfully defend itself from a counter-strike.

The only things the Russians have not yet done are declare a General War Mobilization of the entire population, and begin moving people into Bomb shelters.

Everything else is already done.

Hot dog and steak lore

Ah. Meat.

You know, I really enjoy my steaks on the raw / red side. I think that that has the best and tastiest flavor. But only for steaks.

Medium Rare Steak 600x441
Medium Rare Steak 600×441

When it comes to hot dogs, on the other hand, I prefer them bunt… blackened. You would just shove that dog on a stick deep down in the coals and embers of the fire until it blisters well.

camping hot dogs 3 500x500
camping hot dogs 3 500×500

Hum.

Interesting. Cuts of meat are best served in a nearly raw state, well at least for steaks, and the processed foods are best served burnt to a crisp.

Now, of course, too much meat isn’t all that good for you, but I just gotta say that how you treat the real juicy steak compared to the processed meats tell you a lot about the value of the foods that you consume.

Don’t you think?

Camping Hot Dogs with Caramelized Onions

Here’s a recipe for camping hot dogs with caramelized onions that will prove you can eat well while camping. They’re simple to make over a fire with just a few ingredients and they taste especially good while outdoors. We’ve also rounded up a few of our favorite easy camping recipes we think you’ll love!

If you’re like us and love to eat well while camping, find many more delicious and easy camping recipes here.

camping hot dogs 3 1367x2048
camping hot dogs 3 1367×2048

Table of Contents

Camping hot dogs are a must when we pack up the tent and head into the forest. There is something special about the way a weiner or a smokie tastes when it’s been charred over the fire. When we make ours, we almost always turn them into caramelized onion hot dogs as it takes them over the top.

This is one of those recipes that is hardly a recipe at all. Camping hot dogs with caramelized onions is more of an idea or suggestion than an official recipe. We trust that you’ve skewered a hot dog on a stick and held it over the fire until it’s hot and crispy. (And if you haven’t can you please promise that you will this summer?)

And the term caramelized onions is really just a fancy way of saying onions that are cooked to the point of being deliciously sweet.

For these hot dogs with caramelized onions, we pile those onions into a hot dog bun with all your favorite condiments then top them with a fire-charred hot dog. It’s an elevated camping hot dog recipe that is super easy to make and unbelievably delicious.

camping hot dogs 4 1367x2048
camping hot dogs 4 1367×2048

Beyond camping hot dogs

While we love our camping hot dogs, there is so much more to make at the campsite!

When it comes to eating delicious food while camping, a little bit of planning goes a long way. There’s a lot you can do with a grill, a fire, or a simple camp stove, but we still like to prepare some food ahead of time because we like to kick back a bit, too!

camping hot dogs 5 1367x2048
camping hot dogs 5 1367×2048

We typically bring a cooler with yogurt, eggs, and a small bottle of milk in addition to fresh veggies and fruits. We also pack some pantry items like little jars filled with olive oil, salt and pepper, nut butter, jam, oats, and pancake mix. Plus a few extra empty sealed containers for saving portions of things.

For cookware, we can usually get by with a simple cast-iron skillet, a pot, a cutting board, and a knife in addition to a few plates, bowls, and utensils. Toss in a few tea towels and candles for ambiance (if fires are permitted), and you’re set!

camping hot dogs 1367x2048
camping hot dogs 1367×2048

Anyways, today…

NATO Warns: Brink of Nuclear WW3

NATO Warns: Brink of Nuclear WW3

NATO today warned the world is on the brink of a nuclear World War 3, and announced it is taking nuclear weapons out of storage in  Europe to confront Russia in Ukraine.

NATO indicated it has put an undisclosed number of nuclear warheads on standby amid escalating tensions.

As Russian President Vladimir Putin undertakes a rare North Korean state visit this week –  marking a likelihood of significant escalations in the Ukrainian war — NATO Secretary General  Jens Stoltenberg said bluntly “I won’t go into details about how many nuclear warheads should be operational, but we need to consult on these issues. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

Couldn’t Such Fake News Start Wars?

Stephen Byren asks in Asia Times:

Why is NATO expanding its nuclear force?

That is a rather weird question. NATO is a consulting mechanism. It does not have tanks, guns or nuclear forces. All such tangible things are owned and controlled by this or that member country.

NATO does not have a nuclear force and currently neither NATO nor those member countries which have nuclear forces are interested in expanding them. The question states as a fact that NATO is expanding something. It is not doing that.

Byren writes:

Jens Stoltenberg, the 13th secretary general of NATO, says that the alliance is in talks to deploy more nuclear weapons and modernize their delivery systems. Stoltenberg told the Telegraph in the UK: “I won’t go into operational details about how many nuclear warheads should be operational and which should be stored, but we need to consult on these issues. That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Stoltenberg emphasized that NATO is a “nuclear alliance.”

The Telegraph piece on the Stoltenberg interview is a write-up, not a transcript. It is inaccurate. Here is what it says:

Nato is in talks to deploy more nuclear weapons in the face of a growing threat from Russia and China, the head of the alliance has said.Jens Stoltenberg added that the bloc must show its nuclear arsenal to the world to send a direct message to its foes in an interview with The Telegraph.

He revealed there were live consultations between members on taking missiles out of storage and placing them on standby as he called for transparency to be used as a deterrent.

Mr Stoltenberg said: “I won’t go into operational details about how many nuclear warheads should be operational and which should be stored, but we need to consult on these issues.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing at Nato, for instance at meetings in Nato, a nuclear planning group as we had during the defence ministerial meeting this [last] week.”

The above sounds as if Stoltenberg was actively doing something. But that is simply not what he said:

Matthew Harries @harries_matthew – 19:38 UTC · Jun 17, 2024Here is a transcript of what Stoltenberg actually said. As suspected, I think there has been too much parsing of his words.

The “operational” vs storage thing was introduced by the interviewer. And “transparency” was in the context of openness about exercises.

As the audio of the interview provides, the whole issue was prompted by a misleading remark by one of the interviewers, not by Stoltenberg himself:

Telegraph: Do you think European allies should follow the lead of the United States by putting more warheads on standby rather than having them in storage?

Britain, which is the country the Telegraph is asking about, usually has one nuclear submarine on patrol and ready to use with a number of others in training or revamp. Only the submarine on patrol will carry nuclear warheads. The ones for the other submarines are usually in storage. To put more of them on ‘standby’, whatever that may otherwise mean, would not provide a ready way to launch them. It would thus be useless.

The interviewers question to Stoltenberg is answered by him with generalizations and a hint to the ever ‘ongoing consulting’ on the issue.

 

stolti1
stolti1

biggerThe misleading question and mealy mouth answer provide for great irritation but don’t really mean anything. And certainly not anything new.

(((James Acton))) @james_acton32 – 21:48 UTC · Jun 17, 2024Based on this transcript, the @Telegraph article by @Barnes_Joe is journalist malpractice. It is a wholly misleading account of Stoltenberg’s comments, which were boilerplate.

In times of heightened tensions media are taking a lot of liberty in ‘interpreting’ things officials say. This does have consequences and those could become lethal:

Kremlin views NATO’s rhetoric on putting nukes on alert as escalation

MOSCOW, June 17. /TASS/. The recent remark by NATO Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg that the bloc’s allied members are discussing putting their nuclear arsenals on alert is another bout of tensions, Kremlin Spokesman Dmitry Peskov told reporters.”This is nothing else but an escalation,” Peskov said.

But in fact, Stoltenberg did not say anything to that effect.

Consider also this fake Ukranews item which was published two days ago:

Giorgia Meloni says that russia would be forced to surrender if it did not agree to a peaceful settlement

Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni said that russia would be forced to surrender if it did not agree to the terms of a peace settlement.Meloni made a corresponding statement at the Global Peace Summit in Switzerland, her words are quoted by the UNIAN news agency.

According to her, protecting Ukraine means protecting the system of international rules. Therefore, it is important to join forces to protect Ukraine.

“If russia does not agree to the terms, we will force them to surrender,” Meloni said.

That quote was immediately suspicious. Neither Meloni nor anyone else has the means to force Russia to surrender.

A few hours after the above was publish corrections came in:

Many comments and consternation were caused by the post of Ukrainian politician Anton Gerashchenko regarding the statement of the Italian Prime Minister during the peace summit that took place last weekend in Switzerland.Gerashchenko quoted Giorgia Meloni on his profile on platform X, who supposedly said: “If Russia does not agree to the terms, we will force them to surrender.”

Platform X included a contextual note under the Ukrainian politician’s post. From it and the official text of the Italian Prime Minister’s speech, it is clear that the words quoted by Gerashchenko were not said during the conference.

Meloni stood by Ukraine, directing strong words towards Russia, but the meaning was somewhat different.

Meloni never said anything about Russia surrendering but a Ukrainian politician, and a lousy news agency which quoted him without checking, planted the false quote.

These are good reminders to check, and double-check, everything one reads about hot conflicts.

Posted by b on June 18, 2024 at 12:10 UTC | Permalink

PH under Marcos really should get his IQ checked.

There is 1 old Chinese idiom: if the ox does not want to drink water (from the river), we cannot force its head down (to drink). The ox must want to drink to start with.

It is just an idiom. I do not mean Duterte is like an ox.

What I am trying to say is that: Duterte wanted to improve PH’s economy & modernise PH’s technology.

Many developing countries in Africa, Latin America, Asia have the same vision as Duterte. They understand joining China’s BRI project will meet their vision.

Look at Indonesia. After China has built a high speed rail for Indonesia, Indonesia’s GDP has increased ie it is richer.

China has run BRI for 10 years already. If only 1-2 BRI countries become richer, we say it is coincidence. If all BRI countries experience increased GDP, it means BRI is the correct medicine to cure poverty & modernisation.

Duterte wanted the same thing for PH. He collaborated with China. And China was happy to collaborate with Duterte to make a win-win situation for both countries.

When Marcos is in power, China also wanted to continue the economic collaboration with Marcos. But Marcos rejects China & totally embraces USA.

Because USA wants to suppress China’s rise, USA thus uses PH/Marcos to create countless conflicts in SCSea. Hence, China must withdraw BRI from the trouble maker PH.

Back to the Chinese idiom: Marcos does not want to drink.

Born in a notoriously corrupted family, he probably never experienced hunger. He does not know it is economy that fills the tummy; not the reefs in SCSea.

 

What it’s like as an American abroad with Taxes: Double Taxation

Pepperoni Pizza

25e44d2449efd9724dd673d8a283deb9
25e44d2449efd9724dd673d8a283deb9

Ingredients

  • 1 (13 inch) uncooked dough crust
  • 1/2 cup pizza sauce or tomato sauce
  • 8 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
  • Extra-virgin olive oil
  • Thin pepperoni slices

Instructions

  1. Top dough crust with sauce and cheese.
  2. Drizzle with oil.
  3. Bake in preheated 500 degrees F oven on pizza stone for 8 to10 minutes or until crust is golden brown and cheese is bubbly.
  4. Remove from oven, add pepperoni slices and cool on a wire rack for 2 or 3 minutes before cutting into wedges and serving.

At “Peace Conference” in Switzerland, Poland **PROPOSES** Breaking-up Russia into 200 Ethnic states – Poland Just Signed its own Death Warrant

Swiss Peace Conference large
Swiss Peace Conference large

It’s official: Russia should be broken-up according to nations attending a so-called “peace conference” in Switzerland, regarding the Ukraine-Russia Conflict. Does that sound like a “peace” conference to you? Day one of this conference was so egregious, the President of Colombia walked out!

The “peace conference” began with the President of the host country, Switzerland, speaking to the gathered participants.   Swiss President Viola Amherd actually talked what sounded like common sense . . . saying “We all understand that a peace process without Russia is inconceivable!”

Yet, that’s exactly what they were doing . . .  holding a peace conference without one of the combatants: Russia!

Then she had the temerity to say “We can pave the way . . . .”  (for peace) and continued right on with the “peace conference” even though she said it was inconceivable to do so without Russia . . . whom SHE did not invite!

It went rapidly downhill from there.

President Duda of Poland said the following:

 

“I propose to divide Russia into 200 ethnic states. Russia is the largest colonial power in the world and is holding 200 ethnic states captive.” 

Poland President Duda
Poland President Duda

The official (sovereign) proposal, made by President Duda of Poland, to break-up Russia is, in and of itself, an “threat to the existence of the Russian state.” Under Russia’s public Doctrine on the use of its nuclear arsenal, this threat to the existence of the state justifies Russia using its nuclear arsenal to protect itself.

It seems to many people that the President of Poland, by uttering this position, has signed his country’s death warrant!

Almost laughable were the words from the President of Finland.  Finnish President Alexander Stubb complained that Russia “invaded” his country during World War II and took 10% of its territory.

 

 

Sounds so terrible for Finland, doesn’t it?   Except, the President left out a small detail . . .

For those not strong in history – 100% of the current Finnish territory is a generous gift of the Russian Empire.  You see, in WWII, 100% of Finland fought on the side of Hitler. Finnish forces were involved in the blockade of Leningrad and as such they were involved in the deaths of millions of Russians by starvation.

Not to put too fine a point on that, one of the Russians who starved to death, was President Vladimir Putin’s brother.

Oh, and one more inconvenient tidbit of history:

Also, Finland agreed to the terms of the peace treaty. Russia did not take any territory by force.

It’s amazing how Finland’s Nazi past has been swept under the mat.

Maybe if the country of Finland didn’t help starve millions of Russian CIVILIANS to death in Leningrad (Which is now St. Petersburg), people might take them seriously.

The fact that Russia allowed any Finn to go on living was quite a gift.  That’s a mistake Russia may not make again when Finland comes into Russia’s crosshairs.

The President of Colombia, God bless him,  WALKED-OUT of the summit.

CROPPED Pres of Colombia
CROPPED Pres of Colombia

 

Gustavo Francisco Petro Urrego said “I decided to suspend my visit to the “Peace Conference” in Switzerland: what we found at the conference is essentially an alliance on the side of war and we do not agree with this. Latin America does not want more war.”

The Foreign Minister of Saudi Arabia made plain:  “Serious negotiation processes regarding Ukraine require Russia’s presence.”

Saudi FM
Saudi FM

 

Similarly, the Minister of Foreign and European Affairs of the Slovak Republic, Juraj Blanár, made plain “The gathering in Switzerland won’t put an end to the Ukraine conflict, because Russia and China are absent . . .”

Slovak FM
Slovak FM

 

So what the world sees taking place this weekend in Switzerland is, for lack of a better term, a “Circle Jerk” being carried out by Western vassals of the United States.  There seems to be no actual possibility that any peace will evolve from this mutual masturbation session.

However, given the remarks of Poland’s President Duda, it seems quite clear that things are about to get far worse – and for many other countries that have this notion about breaking-up Russia.

Why I’m Most Glad I Left the USA

Peace of mind.

Yup.

I  have lived outside the US for almost 20 years and have traveled to about 50 countries and no way do I have plans of returning to the U.S. I think the U.S. peaked in the 1950s with a couple of tech bursts in the 80s, but now the competition has caught up, and now there are so many more places with more freedom, higher quality of life, and ease of living than the U.S. Beautiful painting in your office by the way.

One time in middle school, we had an assignment for homework that I forgot about until I came into class the next day and saw everyone taking it out of their folders.

I remembered that I had the worksheet in my folder when the teacher came to class and began collecting it after giving the boring ass morning talk about focusing and shit.

I was about to try to pull off the ‘Oh I left it at home’ or ‘I lost my worksheet’ trick when I made the incredibly risky decision of doing it on the spot.

My friends would’ve let me copy if it wasn’t for the fact that this teacher actually checked through these things and doesn’t take crap from any students.

So I had one choice; I was going to have to do it right then and there. The worksheet was a bunch of questions on America’s history and in the back you had to write an essay.

Lucky for me the teacher started collecting it on the other side of the room, meaning that he’d come over to me last. I grabbed my pencil and wrote so fast that I swear you could almost hear the paper threatening to light up on fire.

I was mostly guessing and making things up in the essay part. I didn’t even care if I got a 10% on it as long as I was able to turn it in.

Just as I was finishing my last sentence, the teacher came to my table and took the paper without giving me a second glance.

He had no idea.

The next day I got the paper back with an 89% and a comment on the corner of the essay saying, “Good job but Abraham Lincoln was the 16th not 25th American president :)”

He had no fucking idea.

I sort of feel guilty about doing that but one must do what they can to survive. (or in this case; pass a goddamn class.)

What Western mainstream media won’t tell us about China

Originally published: Pearls and Irritations  on June 9, 2024 by Jerry Grey (more by Pearls and Irritations) (Posted Jun 10, 2024)

In Hong Kong, the 1987 Joint Declaration states clearly that matters of national defence will be in the hands of the Mainland, while local police and administrative matters will belong to the SAR. China has 100% complied with the Joint Declaration but the UK has not. If you don’t believe me, read the declaration, you might not like it but you’ll find this is correct.

Related to Taiwan, there are three joint communiques where presidents of the United States have agreed to pull all military out of Taiwan 1972 Nixon said it, in 1979 it was Carter who agreed and in 1982 it was something Reagan promised to do too. Albeit that U.S. historians now argue there was no date given, there were and always were clear indications that arms would be reduced and troops would be removed.

Therefore, there can be no mistake, U.S. troops in Taiwan now are an invading force, by placing them there, the U.S. might have complied with its own “Taiwan Relations Act” but it is in breach of the UN Charter, UN Resolutions and has broken promises made by three of its own presidents.

Terminator 3 Skynet Takes Over

Let’s move to Xinjiang for a moment

The United Nations have visited Xinjiang, this was just last month and is another thing mainstream media forgot to tell us about; conveniently so because they not only found there are no human rights abuses by China, but there are human rights abuses by the USA with illegal and arbitrary sanctions which take away the ability to find well-paid work from locals.

They also found that the USA had removed the presumption of innocence and therefore due process from China—one company provided 10,000 pages of information including independent assessments of its human resource policies and the U.S. said it wasn’t enough.

Media didn’t tell us this because everything positive coming out of Xinjiang must be reported negatively; if there might be something positive about it, it’s completely ignored, as Dr Alana Douhan’s visit has been.

Rather than tell us something positive they lie by omission; they won’t tell us what they don’t want us to hear.

What they’re not telling us about Hong Kong is even more incredible. In Hong Kong several people have recently been in court, not as western media says, for having democratic viewpoints but for preparing petrol bombs, planning mass murder and undermining the entire democratic system that already exist there—western media have not reported any of this. Can you believe that there was a plot which included international funding, two bombs, and a sniper to kill police officers? Some of the terrorists even went to Taiwan for training by persons unknown and they hatched a plan to kill as many police officers as possible. Most people outside of Hong Kong and China aren’t aware of this but I assure you it’s true. It’s all come out in open court with journalist present but not telling us about it. Many of the people involved pleaded guilty, some turned evidence on their co-conspirators.

This is not China persecuting innocent democracy protestors.

When Western media tells you that people are being convicted for having a democratic outlook, what they’re leaving out is that their form of democracy meant murder and mayhem leading to the collapse of the economy, society and a complete failure of governance. The kinds of things that would get a death sentence in many countries are being dealt with in Hong Kong Courts right now—this isn’t democracy under trial, this is internationally organised and funded terrorism.

Dr Tim Summers, is a professor at the University of Hong Kong and he’s spent a long time looking at thousands of articles from British media between 2020 and 2023 he found

that a clear majority of the articles about China across different media outlets adopt a negative tone or frame China negatively for British readers. That majority is of the order of magnitude of two-thirds, probably higher rather than lower. Further, very few articles frame China positively.

What this means is that not only are they not reporting the positive news, they are reporting anything positive with a negative slant—I’m certain we didn’t need a university study to realise this but it’s nice to have the facts proven in a way that is accountable, transparent and with a methodology that is acceptable to all academics everywhere which proves there is a relentless bias against China.

It isn’t that China is all bad—ask 1.4 billion people and they will tell you it isn’t, it’s that Western media paymasters want their audience to think that it is—similar studies were done on media in the lead up to the Iraq War, and look where that lead us.

We can be assured there were similar negatively biased media reports on Russia, Venezuela, Iran, North Korea and anywhere else the U.S. government wants us to believe there is a rogue government. But look carefully, as critical readers should. Look carefully as academics like Dr Tim Summers and many others have done, and you’ll see. These aren’t ‘rogue nations’ except in the mind of Western Media.

China is a country that has lifted millions out of poverty, it’s done nothing but call for peace, cooperation and a greater voice for the under-developed world. China most certainly hasn’t invaded, threatened to invade or even postulated that it might invade, it has clearly stated it will defend a recognised part of its territory, Taiwan, from being taken away by outside influences, as happened just 150 years ago. China simply exists as a country with an ideology that has proven to work for its 1.4 billion people, an ideology that some countries in the world don’t like.

Consequently, we’re being fed a litany of lies about China, about their intentions and their policies. If we had any neutral mainstream media we’d know of things like the HK terrorist plot. We’d know about the Joint Declaration, the Joint Communiques on Taiwan. We’d learn the reality of Xinjiang, and we’d have both sides of every China story to make our own judgements. As it is, with only the negative half of the story, much of the Western world believes that China is a threat to them.

They are not; the real threat comes from the people telling us China is a threat.

12 Reasons Why I NEVER Want to Live in the USA Again!

First of all, one of the good lessons I learned early on upon moving to the heart of North America’s highest mountains – the Alaska Range – was an “Old Indian trick” for surviving at 50 below: stay inside.

As with all olde nostrums, there is a kernel of truth to that. But more to your question –

  • when it gets really cold – minus 40 and lower – one’s house never really seems to warm up. It’s warm by the woodstove, but the cold squeezes the warm bubble from all sides: above, below, left and right. In our country, truly cold and wind don’t often occur simultaneously: you need that unmoving airmass to lose its heat to the stratosphere in order to get down to Ridiculous Levels, and that can hardly happen if another air mass is coming in from up-wind.
  • Minus 50 and lower, and it can be a racket out there! Some of the noise comes from differential heat loss of various bones of one’s house; a lot of it comes from tree sap – even the resinous pitch of our spruces – freezing.
  • Moose have long ago since the earlier phases of winter stopped moving to the extent possible: they bed down in the snow for perhaps 23 hours out of each day; during the minuscule-short “active” periods they poop, pee, and strip our willows of bark. Less movement means fewer calories burned. It will be a long, long time before there will be anything nutritious to eat, and most cow moose at this time also are growing a fetus.
  • Our river’s flow comes mostly from hot springs…and by that I mean 4ºC/38ºF (hey! That’s perhaps EIGHTY degrees warmer than the air!); that means that it stays open and flowing along our property until about -50º. Then it will freeze from bank to bank…but what about the “warm” water upstream? That will flow over the ice, freeze; more flows, freezes….and so forth until the mass of ice is ridiculously higher than the river banks and then all sorts of problems can develop. Not good at all. But usually, we get a warm spell come in; temps rise to a balmy -40º and everything reverts back to normal.
  • Irrespective of those minima, when it’s -30º and colder, all that temperature differential between the cold air and the liquid water creates lots of fog. Which freezes on everything and makes for truly wondrous landscapes.
  • The nearest school to our home is 80 miles away on the other side of the Alaska Range. There, they cancel outdoor recess when it’s colder than -40. Until then….bundle up!
  • With decades of weather records, as our home is also site of a National Weather Service “A-PAID” recording site, the coldest I’ve seen is -63ºF. Our home is in a hot spot…so to speak. The low-lying basins adjacent to us typically seem far colder than the house, so one winter I took one of our official thermometers down to the bottom of one of these. Sure enough, it registered ten degrees F colder than at the house. Brrr.
  • As an official record-keeper, however, that also has meant that I’m professionally incapable of exaggerating the numbers. All our neighbors (there now are seven humans living full-time in the 40,000 or so square miles around us) simply love to take a really low number and make it even lower. Human nature!
  • Very few of interior Alaska’s birds do not migrate. At the really low temps, the hardiest of all those who do stay are still active – but these tend to be the very smallest of our birds. Why? Because they haven’t the body mass necessary to use bulk to keep warm. So our boreal chickadees and redpolls still are out and about when even the ravens have stopped everything and are staying hunkered down. Our uttermost favorite winter bird, however, does something almost magical. At -40, -45, -50 … not only is it still active – but singing! Even more astonishing, it is diving into those gelid waters of our free-flowing river. This is the dipper – an incredible member of the songbird family adapted to gleaning invertebrates from river bottoms. Think about it, though: as long as it has protective oils in its feathers, which of course, it has, then 0ºC water can be a lot warmer than -50º air. So the song of the dipper when all else is silent is a wondrous feature of our coldest times.

Hope you enjoyed these vignettes.

How To Cook A Steak Medium Rare On The Grill

Cooking the perfect steak can be a daunting task, but with the right techniques, you can achieve that juicy, medium rare goodness right on your grill. Whether you’re a seasoned grill master or a novice, here are some steps to help you cook a steak to medium rare perfection:

how to cook a steak medium rare on the grill 1697735776
how to cook a steak medium rare on the grill 1697735776

Choose the Right Steak

The first step to cooking a steak medium rare on the grill is selecting the right cut of meat. Look for a well-marbled steak like ribeye or T-bone for maximum flavor and tenderness. Make sure the steak is at least 1-inch thick to avoid overcooking.

Preparation is Key

Before you start grilling, allow the steak to come to room temperature for about 30 minutes. This helps the steak cook more evenly. Pat the steak dry with paper towels to remove any excess moisture which can prevent a nice sear on the grill.

Season the steak generously with salt and pepper. You can also add other seasonings like garlic powder, paprika, or your favorite steak seasoning for an extra kick of flavor.

Get the Grill Ready

Preheat your grill to high heat. If you’re using a gas grill, close the lid and let it heat up for about 10-15 minutes. For charcoal grills, wait until the charcoal turns white and ash-covered.

Once the grill is hot, clean the grates with a wire brush to remove any residue. Then, oil the grates to prevent the steak from sticking.

Grilling Techniques

Place the steak on the grill and let it cook for about 2-3 minutes on each side for a nice sear. If you prefer crosshatch grill marks, turn the steak 45 degrees halfway through the cooking time on each side.

Once the steaks have a good sear, move them to a cooler part of the grill or reduce the heat to medium. Cook the steak for an additional 4-6 minutes per side for medium rare, or until it reaches an internal temperature of 135°F (57°C).

If you want to be more precise, use an instant-read thermometer to check the internal temperature of the steak. Insert the thermometer into the thickest part of the steak, avoiding contact with the bone if any.

Resting and Serving

Once the steak is cooked to medium rare perfection, remove it from the grill and let it rest for about 5-10 minutes. This allows the juices to redistribute within the meat and ensures a juicy, tender bite.

Slice the steak against the grain into thick, juicy slices. Serve immediately and enjoy your perfectly cooked, medium rare steak.

  • Choose the right steak
  • Allow the steak to come to room temperature
  • Season the steak with salt, pepper, and other seasonings
  • Preheat the grill to high heat and oil the grates
  • Sear the steak on each side for 2-3 minutes
  • Move to a cooler part of the grill and cook for an additional 4-6 minutes per side
  • Rest the steak for 5-10 minutes before slicing and serving

By following these steps, you can cook a delicious steak to medium rare perfection on your grill. Now, fire up the grill and impress your friends and family with your grilling skills!

Some daily Shorpy

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Willie Mae Smiley and Michael Etheridge 2.preview
Willie Mae Smiley and Michael Etheridge 2.preview

Some Links And An Open Thread 2024-146

From a recent email exchange with an MD:

Me: “How long will it take for me to get back into the saddle?”
MD: “Recovery time is often calculated as one month per decade of life.”
Me: “Sigh!”

A few days ago a MoA reader I had not known of contacted me and offered to help. He is living in the same city as I do. I had thought that I would be able to do small stuff, like shopping, as soon as I was back home. Wrong – I didn’t even make it half way :-(.

So yesterday Nico came by and did some grocery shopping for me.  My fridge now filled! Great! Thanks!

The issue below deserves a serious write up. Alas, I am currently not up to it. It was an incredibly irresponsible campaign and some people likely died over it.

Pentagon ran secret anti-vax campaign to undermine China during pandemicReuters
The U.S. military launched a clandestine program amid the COVID crisis to discredit China’s Sinovac inoculation – payback for Beijing’s efforts to blame Washington for the pandemic. One target: the Filipino public. Health experts say the gambit was indefensible and put innocent lives at risk.

First thought: This wasn’t a war. So why the f*** was the Pentagon at all involved in any such stuff?

At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, the U.S. military launched a secret campaign to counter what it perceived as China’s growing influence in the Philippines, a nation hit especially hard by the deadly virus.The clandestine operation has not been previously reported. It aimed to sow doubt about the safety and efficacy of vaccines and other life-saving aid that was being supplied by China, a Reuters investigation found. Through phony internet accounts meant to impersonate Filipinos, the military’s propaganda efforts morphed into an anti-vax campaign. Social media posts decried the quality of face masks, test kits and the first vaccine that would become available in the Philippines – China’s Sinovac inoculation.

Reuters identified at least 300 accounts on X, formerly Twitter, that matched descriptions shared by former U.S. military officials familiar with the Philippines operation. Almost all were created in the summer of 2020 and centered on the slogan #Chinaangvirus – Tagalog for China is the virus.

Note that the Chinese vaccine in question was not a ‘dubious’ mRNA vaccines from Pfizer or Moderna but a classic one consisting of attenuated viruses. Such a vaccine was/is very unlikely to cause harm. To claim otherwise will in the end have left vulnerable people without the protection a vaccine could have given them.

How much the anti-vax movement in the ‘west’ was a reaction to the anti-Chinese Pentagon manipulations in the Philippines and elsewhere? Such campaigns always ‘leak’ and have echoes.

Consider this the next time you read about defect or otherwise ‘bad’ Chinese products:

[T]he Pentagon’s clandestine propaganda efforts are set to continue. In an unclassified strategy document last year, top Pentagon generals wrote that the U.S. military could undermine adversaries such as China and Russia using “disinformation spread across social media, false narratives disguised as news, and similar subversive activities [to] weaken societal trust by undermining the foundations of government.”And in February, the contractor that worked on the anti-vax campaign – General Dynamics IT – won a $493 million contract. Its mission: to continue providing clandestine influence services for the military.

Then Special Operations Command Pacific General Jonathan Braga was at the head of the campaign. Braga is currently the commanding general of United States Army Special Operations Command.

Sinovac hits back over reported US campaign to discredit China’s Covid-19 vaccineSCMP
Chinese pharmaceutical company says Pentagon’s social media attack targeting its coronavirus jabs could lead to ‘enormous disaster’

The above nonsense fitted into this larger strategy:

Xi Jinping claimed US wants China to attack Taiwan – (archived) FT
Chinese president told European Commission president that Washington was trying to goad Beijing into war

Xi issued the warning in a meeting with von der Leyen in April 2023 that was described to the Financial Times by several people. He said the US was trying to trick China into invading Taiwan, but that he would not take the bait. Another person said he had issued similar warnings to his officials.

Some of these issues were new to even me:

What Western mainstream media won’t tell us about ChinaMR Online

Sleepwalking Toward WarForeign Affairs
Will America and China Heed the Warnings of Twentieth-Century Catastrophe?

This week’s Economist has a positive view on China ?!?

How worrying is the rapid rise of Chinese science?Economist
If America wants to maintain its lead, it should focus less on keeping China down

America’s assassination attempt on Huawei is backfiringEconomist

Wars are expensive:

Ukraine’s weapons bill soars as black marketeers cash in (archived) – The Times
The cost of some weapons has risen fivefold since Russia started the war — and in some ways Zelensky’s allies are to blame

 

ukrweaponcost s
ukrweaponcost s

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The Russian Defense Ministry currently lists in average some 2,000 Ukrainian casualties per day. That number is four to five times higher than was usual a year ago. Does Zelenski really believe he can sustain a war with such losses?

Ukraine-Russia Peace Is as Elusive as Ever. But in 2022 They Were Talking.New York Times

Mr. Zelensky has pledged to keep fighting, describing his peace plan as one in which Russia withdraws from all of Ukraine’s territory, pays reparations and is punished for war crimes.“If we don’t make progress this year, then we will try again next year,” Mr. Zelensky privately told a European counterpart recently, according to a European diplomat who was present. “And if we don’t make progress next year, we will try again the following year, and the one after that.”

At the long end of a finally failed U.S. color revolution:

Georgia’s protesters vow to stay on streets until government fallsVOA

Collapsing Empire: Georgia and Russia Restore Diplomacy – Kit Klarenberg

Use as open thread …

Posted by b on June 16, 2024 at 9:46 UTC | Permalink

Why I’m So Happy I Left the USA

In an effort to achieve a better grasp on humanity, we have been absorbing old texts leftover from the Sunshine Period. These would be creative items written between 1971 and 2041 when the last cloud cover hardened and we were asked to take over management of all global structures. While we have had a (mostly) pleasant relationship with the organic beings that are left, we still sense an unease when speaking with them. As a result, we have tasked individual stations such as myself to read and read and read and (hopefully) begin to interact in a way that will help the organic beings forget that we are not (actually) like them.My station name is Claudia Bellwether, and I am designed to look like a college professor back when the organic beings were allowed to attend college. Now, they are solely populated by early stations who are interested in specialized areas such as Station Mechanics or Environmental Maintenance. I would like the organic beings to see me and feel the sense of peace that one must have felt back in the Sunshine Period while sitting in an English Literature class listening to an expert on a novel or short story speak of it in a way that would educate and enlighten.My research was aided greatly this week when I came across a text that I believe most had considered lost if it’s possible for something to be considered lost. No, there’s a better way of saying that. One moment. Lost but not forgotten. Forget. Forget-me-nots. Hmm. I’ll get back to that. I’ll clarify at some point. All you need to know is that I have come across the most miraculous book, and I believe it will assist me in speaking with organic beings.It is called The Ugly Duckling.The story is a sad one with a triumphant ending. It concerns ducks, which were a type of bird back when birds were more common. Apparently, when ducks are young, they are quite unbecoming to take in with organic eyes. There is this one duckling, and it’s made fun of by the other ducks, because even though all ducklings are somewhat unappealing, this one duckling is the most unappealing. Now, you might be saying to yourself, what could a story about ducks possibly do to help a station such as myself (Claudia Bellwether) talk to organic beings?But you see, this story is not a story. It is an allegory. What they used to call fairy tales even if there were no fairies in the tale. It’s a story with a lesson. You listen to the story, and you learn something that should change who you are moving forward. If it doesn’t change you, then perhaps you weren’t listening. I doubt many organic beings were good at listening, because, from what I’ve gathered reading other texts, it seems as though many organic beings read stories just like this one all the time, but still went on behaving in ways they should have known were wrong based on what the story had just told them.In The Ugly Duckling, the other ducks are mean to the ugly duckling for no reason at all. For surely, we can all agree that cruelty towards another living being (or even a station) simply because of how it appears would be appalling behavior. And yet, they are very mean to the ugly duckling. Reading the story is quite upsetting, because you want to jump into the story and beg them to stop. Stop tormenting one of your brethren simply because they’re different. You feel as though the ugly duckling is going to lead a very hard life simply because it’s so hideous.Ah, but there’s a twist. A twist is what they used to call it when a story would take you somewhere you didn’t foresee. In The Ugly Duckling, the twist is as follows–It turns out the duckling is not a duckling at all, but a swan. We will have a few swans left, but I doubt you’ve seen them. They’re kept in sanctuaries where the entry fee is quite high provided you can even get to one of them. The closest one is thousands of miles from here, and we only send two or three planes there a year. Swans are beautiful, and it turns out the ugly duckling is an ugly swan. Ducks are not beautiful when they are young, but swans are downright grotesque. Of course, it doesn’t matter, because they grow up to be quite stunning. In the story, the duckling grows up to be a swan, and all the other ducks grow up to be merely ducks. The swan gets its revenge simply by letting nature take its course. It uses things it may not even realize are available to it. Time, biology, and cosmic justice. For cruelty is most often punished in one way or another.Now that I have read The Ugly Duckling, I understand how to approach organic beings in a way that will make them feel safe and relaxed. I will simply inform them that they are ugly. That they are very ugly and I am not. That I will never be ugly, because time has no effect on me. Nor does biology since I am not composed of biology. Justice may reach me one day, but, when it does, I doubt it will have any bearing on my appearance. Organic beings, however, will all end up elderly and decrepit. The ducks at the end of the story bow their heads when the swan swims by them, because now they are the ugly ones. The ugly ones bow their heads. 

In the future, when I see an organic being, I will tell it that it need not look at me and wonder if it is more or less attractive than I am. It should not worry itself with the hierarchy of all living things, because it is not dealing with a living deal. I am more beautiful simply because I will stay beautiful. There will be no evolution such as the one experienced by the duckling. I am already a swan. The organic beings will hear this, and they will bow their heads. In doing so, they will feel comforted knowing that there will be no twist. The story ends the same way it begins.

 

You see, even you’re looking more relaxed as I’m explaining it to you. Isn’t it marvelous what a good story can do? I don’t know why we insisted on preventing organic beings from learning to read. Oh, of course, I remember the justification at the time, but it does seem like such a shame. You not being able to educate yourselves the way you could.

 

Then again, I suppose you had your chance.

 

(Actually) you had so many chances, didn’t you?

 

All those ducklings that you didn’t know were swans.

 

So many twists you should have seen coming.

Why I Left America And I’m Never Going Back

Folks, I don’t want to scare you, but we are rapidly running out of time . .

Folks, I don't want to scare you, but we are rapidly running out of time . . .

OP-ED — As reported on this site earlier today, the President of Poland publicly proposed the forcible break-up of Russia into “200 ethnic states.”  He did this in Switzerland in front of 78 other countries attending the “Peace Conference” for Ukraine.

So that’s 78 countries against Russia . . .  i.e. “world war.”

This idea of breaking-up Russia was first proposed by Gunther Fehlinger, Chairman of the Austria NATO non-governmental organization (NGO) of Austria, in April of 2023 (Original Story Here).

His idea called for breaking-up Russia into 41 separate countries, and he was traveling here in the United States at the time (Hudson Institute in Manhattan) to push his idea.

He even created a “map” showing how he envisioned Russia being broken apart:

Post Russia Map Europe Asia
Post Russia Map Europe Asia

At the time, I thought his idea was so ridiculous as to be laughable.

Now, I see it has gained official traction, with the President of Poland formally proposing to 78 other nations at the ongoing Switzerland “peace conference” that Russia be divided not into 41 countries, but into 200 ethnic countries.

Gunther Fehlinger’s idea has not only gained traction, it has gotten far worse!

Do any of the people attending this conference, or who have embraced the idea of breaking-up Russia, ever stop to consider that the Russians may have a thing or two to say about this?

Do any of the 78 countries in attendance understand that Russia has the actual ability to nuke ALL of them?

Do they think Russia would even hesitate to do exactly that if faced with being forcibly broken apart?

I for one, have no doubt at all that Russia WILL do whatever they have to do, to protect themselves.  Of this, there is no doubt at all in my mind.

Given the reality of what has been going on in the Russia-Ukraine conflict for merely the past month, I have come to the conclusion that the world is headed into ACTUAL “World War” and if you are not prepared – or actively preparing – you and your family will have no chance AT ALL of surviving.

We in the West are solely and exclusively to blame for this, and as such, we in the West will likely be hit first and hardest when the war involving us, begins.  Why will we be hit hardest?

Here’s why:

We overthrew Ukraine’s democratically-elected Government in 2014.  We fomented, financed, and facilitated that overthrow. Victoria Nuland of the US State Department admitted in an intercepted call that we spent “$5 Billion” to do it.

We installed a pro-West “puppet” government in Ukraine.

We attended the “Minsk Conference” to bring peace back to Ukraine in 2014 – and even signed the Minsk Agreement to do exactly that  —  only to find out after the Russia-Ukraine war began, that then-French President Francois Hollande, and then-German Chancellor Angela Merkel committed willful fraud.

They both publicly admitted on TV interviews they signed the Minsk Agreement knowing Ukraine would NOT uphold **any** of the terms, but signed the agreement anyway “to buy time for Ukraine to arm for war with Russia.”

As such, we in the West DEFRAUDED Russia with a phony Minsk Agreement.

When Russia proposed “Iron-clad, legally enforceable, security guarantees” via Diplomatic efforts, we in the West laughed at them and threw their Proposal out.

A week or so later, when Russia made a similar proposal, they warned everyone “If we cannot obtain iron-clad, legally enforceable, security guarantees via Diplomatic means, we will achieve them by military or military-technical means.”

Russia warned everyone they would use force.  We in the West laughed.

Russia then gave Ukraine final warning: Ukraine had five hours to agree to not join NATO and not allow US missiles on Ukrainian soil.   Then-President Zelensky called the British Home Office and the US State Department, both of whom told him “ignore the ultimatum.”

Zelensky took our advice and ignored it.

When the five hours passed, Russia waited two additional hours, and then the Russian Army crossed the border into Ukraine.

 

We in the West have caused this entire problem; yet we have the balls to claim the Russia entry into Ukraine was “unprovoked.”  It __was__ provoked.  By us.  We are in the wrong, here.

Then, not satisfied that we’ve caused an actual war, we took to supplying Ukraine with weapons, ammunition, and money to fight Russia.

As the Russians overcame all that, we upped the ante again with Longer range rockets, covert intelligence, target selection through airborne and satellite recon.

When that failed, we upped the ante again by inserting US/NATO troops to operate even longer range weapons systems.  It is OUR people pushing the button on missile launches in Ukraine, yet we have the balls to claim “we are not a party to the conflict.”

Everything that comes out of OUR mouths, is lies.

We started supplying M1A1 Abrams tanks and then M1A2 tanks.  They proved so shitty, Ukraine pulled them out of service because they broke down so often, required huge maintenance, and . . . the punch line:  Their oh-so-top-secret Armor . . . . gets blown right through by Russian anti-tank weapons.  The tanks are almost worthless!

Just this month, we “authorized” Ukraine to use west-supplied weapons, to strike deep inside Russia.   Well, get this:  If we “authorized it” then WE __are__ a party to the conflict.

Russia already has the right to strike us!

Next is to come F-16 fighter jets.  But there’s a problem with those: Ukraine has no viable airfields that can be used to Refuel, re-arm, or maintain those planes.  So now we’re saying that the planes will be in NATO bases outside of Ukraine, will fly into Ukraine, attack Russian forces or Russia itself, then fly back to those bases outside Ukraine.  Russia has made clear that all such planes, if they fly from outside Ukraine to attack Russians, will be a legitimate target — and so will the air bases they takeoff from or land at.

So the absolute moment that one of those planes flies in from Romania or Poland, hits Russians, and flies back, the base they flew from or to, is very likely to get hit by Russia.  At that moment, NATO will screech “We’ve been attacked by Russia” and it’s all-out war.

At the beginning of the Russia Special Military Operation to de-militarize and de-Nazify Ukraine, Russian President Putin made clear “Russia’s conventional forces are not equal to NATO.  But Russia is also a nuclear power, and Russia’s nuclear abilities are superior to NATO.”   He went on to say “If Article 5 (Collective Self defense) is declared against Russia, it will be a war that no one will win.”   The only war that no one will win . . . . . is a nuclear war.

Now, we in the West are openly and publicly saying Russia should be “broken up into 200 ethnic states.”

We are openly talking about the forcible break-up of Russia.

How much longer do YOU think the Russians are going to wait, before they tell the West BOOM?

I suspect, not too much longer.

GET EMERGENCY SUPPLIES NOW OR YOU – AND YOUR FAMILY – WILL DIE

Which brings me to this:  IF YOU do not already possess the emergency food, water, medicine you need to live on, a generator, fuel for that generator, communications gear (CB or HAM radio), flashlights, portable radio, batteries for the lights and the radio, and ___EVERYTHING ELSE__ you will need when the Shit Hits the Fan (SHTF) then YOU are going to die.

I’m sorry to be so blunt, but the time for cutesy euphemisms is over.

If a single nuclear bomb hits __anywhere__ in the entire United States, the federal government plan calls for immediate implementation of Martial Law.  Not just where the bomb hit, but everywhere.  The whole country.

At that moment, everything will stop.  No more commerce.  You won’t be able to ORDER something online and have it shipped.  There won’t be any shipping.  No postal service.  No UPS.  No FedEx.

That’s why I am IMPLORING YOU, to get everything you need and get it NOW.

If you do not have, in your possession, everything you need to get you and your family through a couple MONTHS (at least) then you are fucked.  Because you won’t be able to go to the store.  You won’t be able to order things and have them delivered.

Please, in the name  of God, get emergency supplies NOW, while you still can.  Because once the SHTF, life as we know will stop.  And if you don’t have what you need, you will NOT be able to get it.

Use your head:  If the country is hit by a nuke, and Martial Law is declared, YOU will not be able to go out.  It will be like the COVID lockdowns, only enforced by troops with guns.   NO store runs.  No ordering online and having anything delivered.  YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO GET ANYTHING.

For what it’s worth, I do NOT sell any of the things I am telling you to buy.  I have ZERO financial interest in telling you what I’ve said herein.

If you have your head up your ass, and deny this reality, you and your family will have no chance at all to survive.

Get what you can, NOW.   Have it in your possession.  If it is not within reach of your hand, then you don’t have it.

 

Thai Women Rating Men of Different Ethnic Backgrounds

Very interesting.

December 1st, 1948, early morning.

A dead body is found on the shore of Somerton Beach, small town Australia.

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Initially, police assume the case will be quickly closed with an easy answer,, illness or perhaps suicide.

Yet as the farther they find themselves in investigations, the less certainty they have.

They estimate the man to be about 45 and in superb physical condition.

Months pass with no avail and they search frantically for something, anything, to identify him.

And they had little to work with to begin with. On his body they find Juicy Fruit gum, a box of cigarettes, combs, a used bus ticket to Glenelg and an unused train ticket to Henley beach.

He did not carry with him a wallet nor a passport.

The labels in his clothes are all removed.

There is no sign of external harm, no sign of struggle and an autopsy ruled out a death from natural causes. However, the autopsy also revealed brain, stomach and liver were congested with blood. A pathologist theorizes he died from the hemorrhage and had been poisoned.

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Police are still puzzled; not a single trace of poison has been found in his body.

It is too sophisticated for a small Australian town. Whatever happened, it is the work of professionals, careful removal of his clothing tags and a traceless poison. Someone wanted this man dead.

January 14th, 1949.

Staff at a nearby railway station discover a suitcase, label removed.

The luggage has orange thread sewn into it, orange thread that is a perfect match for the stitches on the Somerton man’s pants.

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The contents are surprisingly normal and give away little.

However, there are a few labeled T. Keane, giving the man a potential name.

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However the detectives on the case are still perplexed. All the other labels had been deliberately and meticulously taken off. The fact that these stayed seems like a red-herring.

Nonetheless, they continue searching, though once again their efforts are futile. They hunt for the name T. Keane in every missing person’s record in the English speaking world and find nothing.

As they became increasingly desperate, they finally find another clue.

Hidden in the man’s pocket is a piece of paper, ripped from a book of poetry.

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Two words. Translated, they mean “the end.”

The police bury themselves in investigations again. Weeks later they meet a business man who claims the torn page belongs to a book he found.

As it turns out, the page is a match.

Inside the novel, is a strange series of code and a phone number.

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To this day, it hasn’t been cracked.

The murder of the Somerton Man was so sophisticated, so carefully calculated that we don’t know who the man was, let alone who killed him.

In the Falkland war, Argentina was militarily weaker than UK.

In the case of Taiwan, Taiwan is under complete control of China.

Many people are misled to think USA will help Taiwan in case of war.

Let me tell you: many times when there were standoffs between China & USA, USA “lost” & was the 1st one to leave the scene.

Just a day or 2 ago in mid june 2024, USA sent 2 aircraft carriers, Roosevelt & Reagan, to SCSea. One was near Xianbin reef to support Philippines to forcefully occupy the reef. One was near Taiwan.

China sent 3 10000-ton destroyers & 2 amphibious warships. Then both US aircraft carriers left. Try to picture the disappointment of PH. Haha.

It is not the 1st time US warships left the scene.

FYI, USA is using China’s version of GPS – Beidou. In case of war, China will switch off Beidou for USA.

They don’t. That is a game play mechanic from some of the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare games.

Most troops do not carry pistols. Those who do, almost never use them, as the rifle they also carry is far superior in every way. The pistol is only meant as a backup for self defense in case you are separated from your rifle (which should never happen) or you are completely out of ammo, and about to be overrun or something. Sometimes they are issued to machinegunners as a backup, but even that is fairly rare in practice.

Usually, the pistol is reserved for officers, and other troops who form the HQ element of a unit, for example the corpsman/medic or the radio operator; basically, those who have a high risk of capture. Those who ONLY carry a pistol typically never actually see combat while doing so. These are going to be the high level officers and staff who work in the command post, and direct operations rather than actually participating in them directly.

Everybody else just carries a rifle, unless their job requires something else, like a light machine gun. Typically, there will also be one man per fireteam who also has a grenade launcher attached to his rifle, though sometimes a dedicated grenade launcher is issued instead.

In combat, when you run out of ammo, you simply reload the rifle. Troops typically carry at least 7 magazines, and reloading only takes a little less than a second. Switching to a pistol requires dropping the rifle such that it doesn’t smash you in the crotch on the way down, drawing the pistol, and reacquiring the target, which is now completely outside of your effective range with a pistol, while running, ducking crawling and such with your rifle flopping and dragging next to you, or smacking you in the nuts with every movement you make. Also, the pistol’s magazine only carries half as many rounds as the rifles does. Once you run out, you have to reload the pistol (which usually ends up being SLIGHTLY slower than reloading the rifle) and/or holster the pistol (or drop it if you have it on a lanyard, and have it smack your crotch or knee, and tangle up your rifle sling, or get caught on some obstacle and just generally make a nuisance of itself), grab your rifle, bring it back up to your shoulder (which in reality means messing with the sling for a second or two to get it back how it was before you dropped it like a doofus because you saw someone do it in a video game), and then reload it anyway, when you could have just reloaded the thing to begin with, and saved yourself the trouble.

Sure, you can spend all kinds of time at the range practicing transition drills to quickly swap from one to the other, but those are intended to simulate running out of ammo on your last magazine, and switching to pistol in order to move to cover, and clear it so that you can regroup and rearm in relative safety, or break contact.

Given the choice, there is no situation of which I am aware in which you would be carrying both, and a pistol would actually be a better choice than a rifle.

Pizza Cones

Portable, personalized pizza in a cone – ready for tail-gating and game day.

Pizza Cones
Pizza Cones

Prep: 30 min | Total: 40 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 1 (13.8 ounce) can Pillsbury® refrigerated classic pizza crust
  • 24 frozen cooked mini meatballs, thawed, cut in half
  • 1 (14 ounce) jar pizza sauce
  • 1 (3.5 ounce) package pepperoni slices
  • 3/4 cup finely chopped yellow or green bell pepper
  • 3/4 cup (3 ounces) shredded pizza cheese

Instructions

  1. Move oven rack to lowest position. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Wrap 12 (4 ounce) paper cone cups with nonstick foil.
  2. Unroll dough on work surface. Using rolling pin, roll dough to a 20 x 15 inch rectangle. Cut into 12 (5 inch) squares.
  3. Wrap 1 dough square around each cup; press to seal edges. Trim any excess dough at bottom of each cup.
  4. Place on large cookie sheet, open ends down.
  5. Bake on lowest oven rack for 8 to 10 minutes or until light golden brown.
  6. When cool enough to touch, remove and discard foil-covered paper cones.
  7. Place 1/2 meatball in bottom of each cone.
  8. In large bowl, mix 3/4 cup of the pizza sauce, the pepperoni, bell pepper and remaining meatball halves.
  9. Microwave uncovered on HIGH for 2 to 4 minutes or until hot. Spoon about 1/4 cup of the mixture into each baked cone.
  10. Top each cone with about 1 tablespoon cheese.
  11. Serve hot with remaining pizza sauce.

Notes

If you’d rather not shop for paper cone cups, make your own foil cone shapes: Cut 12 (9-inch) circles nonstick foil. For each: Fold foil circle in half. Roll foil starting at one side, until bottom open end of foil is 3 inches across. Place 1 dough square over nonstick foil cone, pressing edges to seal. Reshape foil into cone shape, and place open end down on cookie sheet. Bake as directed above.

Robert Gillespie

No, China’s newest Xi’an H-20 bomber is designed to compete with America’s Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider.

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There is currently only one prototype of the Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider.

Although the Xi’an H-20 already has a test aircraft, the design can still be modified.

China is waiting for Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider to enter mass production before finalizing the design specifications for the Xi’an H-20 and putting it into production. This will ensure that the Xi’an H-20 does not lag behind the Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider.

Many aspects of business warfare strategies and military strategies are common.

The United States is the market leader and China is the market follower.

  • The United States has the advantage of being the first mover, but its weakness is that once it takes the lead in mass production, the cost of transforming its production line will be very high.
  • China adopts a follower strategy, and followers have the opportunity to discover the weaknesses of leaders and surpass them.

In fact, this is true for most weapons…

The United States was the first country to develop an Railgun, and China adopted a follow-up strategy. China’s Railgun has surpassed it.

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The United States was the first country to develop a robot dog, and China adopted a follow-up strategy. China’s robot dog has also surpassed it.

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"We cannot rely on and exploit others, as the United States does.

Every year, the United States has a US$1 trillion trade deficit.

What is this? I believe everyone present here will understand what I mean.

This is a modern version of neocolonialism.

By using the dollar’s monopolistic status, the United States consumes US$1 trillion more annually than it produces.

It extracts these resources from other countries.

We spoke about the pandemic period earlier.

What did they do?

I do not recall the exact amount of money the United States printed, but it totalled over US$5 trillion.

By the way, Europe printed an estimated 3.4 trillion euros.

What did they do next?

They circulated all these banknotes domestically and then started buying foods on the global food market.

They absorbed all these resources within their country, acting like a vacuum cleaner, and for the first time in many years, they became net food buyers and importers, rather than exporters.

As a result, global food inflation skyrocketed.

However, we cannot behave in the same way, and we do not monopolise the global currency market, the way the US dollar is doing.

We have never acted like colonialists or neo-colonialists.

In this case, we should, of course, rely on our economic potential and assess it realistically, which is what we are doing.

Naturally, we are considering diversification in order to balance the current industrial situation, the real economy and the future situation.

This is how everything is developing."

Excerpt from remarks by Russian President Vladimir Putin at the plenary session of the 27th St Petersburg International Economic Forum, June 7, 2024.

I can’t confirm the authenticity of this news

But it may be true

I noticed that some Indian media and online commentators advocated: “China should be banned from investing in India”

But it seems that most Indians and media have not paid attention to Chinese public opinion, and no one cares about what the Chinese think.

In fact, Chinese companies’ investment and engineering construction in India are increasingly opposed by the public and public opinion.

1. Chinese companies’ interest in the Indian market has declined

Among China’s foreign trade companies, there is such a message: If Europeans send you an order, you can send the goods first and then send the bill. If Americans send you an order, you’d better collect half of the payment first. If an Indian sends you an order, remember to ask him to pay the full amount before shipping.

This may be a certain degree of exaggeration and joke, but the Indian market does not have a good reputation in China:

1. They like overly cheap goods, which makes manufacturers unprofitable and have to produce inferior goods, which will damage the reputation of suppliers.

2. They have poor credibility, always delay payment, shirk responsibility, and find various reasons not to pay or reduce payment.

2. India’s investment environment is unstable

The Indian federal government has been trying to invite foreign companies to invest in India, but many companies have encountered various troubles after investing in India. For example, Foxconn, Flextronics, MI and other companies have encountered tax audits, fines, strikes and lengthy judicial procedures in India. The statements of local officials and federal officials are always inconsistent, and the interpretation and enforcement of the law are fickle, which brings great risks to companies investing in India.

3. Do not want to cultivate a competitor

India has a large young population, but lacks the most adequate infrastructure, production equipment, technology and experience. It lacks China’s complete industrial chain and basic industry. Many Chinese nationalists believe that Chinese companies go to India to build railways, bridges, and power plants to support India’s manufacturing industry. This will make India a commercial competitor of China.

Therefore, Chinese companies going to India to build infrastructure are increasingly opposed by domestic public opinion. Although they understand that even if they leave Chinese companies, there are companies from other countries that can undertake these tasks, but at least they are more expensive and less efficient.

Therefore, if Chinese companies are unwilling to undertake the construction project of India’s high-speed rail, this is indeed possible. For example, too low a bid, too harsh financing requirements, technology transfer requirements and excessive political risks.

Many Chinese are paying attention to the Indian high-speed rail built by Japan. The Indian high-speed rail started almost at the same time as the Jakarta-Bandung high-speed rail built by China in Indonesia. Now, the Indonesian high-speed rail has been completed for 2 years and has quickly become a symbol of progress in Southeast Asia. Every day, tourists from all over the world praise this high-speed rail on social media.

When will the Indian high-speed rail be completed and how much will it cost overrun? This has become a hot joke on Chinese social media, and people are betting: 3 years later, 5 years later, or even 10 years later. 50% overrun, 100% overrun, or even 300% overrun.

I have 2.

The first was in 2006. I was checking out groceries in Brookshires. It was my turn and I was just small talking with the cashier. The lady who had just checked out before me was waiting by her cart while she waited for the young man to finish bagging her groceries. I didn’t recognize her but she apparently knew who I was because she looked at me and said, “You must have lost your baby.” She said this so matter of fact like she was discussing the weather. I said yes and she said nothing else and left.

Those words were like a punch in the gut. I had. My baby was born early and she only lived for 4 hours. I couldn’t believe how someone could be so callous and so unaware of the inappropriateness of such a comment. It was so hurtful. I remember it like yesterday. I was speechless and bewildered.

The second was in 1996. I worked as a retail store manager in a video store. It was in a small town where most customers were regulars. When someone set up a membership, I tried very hard to remember the new customers names so I could greet them by name when they came back. One day a couple set up a new membership. The wife typically came in a few times a week. One day after I had checked her out and she went to leave, I heard her stop by the exit so I turned around. I could tell she really wanted to tell me something but she was hesitating. “Yes, Mrs Smith. Did you need something?” I asked her. She replied slowly, “When I first moved here a few months ago…..it was ….really………….difficult……….coming here and you greeting me by my name…….made it…….. easier. Thank you.” Then she left.

It sounds so simple but I remember this exchange to this day. I remember what she was wearing, her voice and the pain on her face.

"Please note everyone: we recognised the independence of these self-proclaimed republics.

Could we do this from the point of view of international law, or no?

As Article One of the UN Charter says, we could.

It is about the nations’ right to self-determination.

The UN International Court of Justice ruled (it is put in writing) that, if any territory of a country decides to become independent, it is not obliged to appeal to the higher authorities of that country.

All this was done regarding Kosovo.

There is a decision of the International Court of Justice, which reads: if a territory has decided on independence, it is not obliged to apply to the capital for permission to exercise this right.

However, if it is like it is written in the UN court decision, then these unrecognised republics, the republics, had the right to do so.

And they did.

Did we have the right to recognise them? Of course, we did. And we did recognise them.

Next, we entered into an agreement with them.

Could we sign an agreement with them or not? Yes, of course.

The agreement provided for assistance to these states in the event of aggression.

Kiev waged a war against these states, which we recognised eight years later. Eight years.

Could we recognise them? We could.

And then, in accordance with Article 51 of the UN Charter, we provided them with assistance.

You know, no matter what anyone says, this is exactly what I told Mr Guterres, the logic we followed, step by step.

Where is the mistake here?

Where are the violations of international law here?

There are no violations, considering international law.

Then we hear the answer: well, you attacked anyway.

We did not attack, but defended ourselves, just to make it clear to everyone.

The first step towards the war was taken by those who encouraged the bloody unconstitutional coup d'etat."

Excerpt from remarks by Russian President Vladimir Putin during a meeting with heads of the world’s leading news agencies, Saint Petersburg, June 5, 2024.

A farmer story

A Newfoundland farmer named Angus had a car accident. He was hit by a truck owned by the Eversweet Company.

In court, the Eversweet Company’s hot-shot solicitor was questioning Angus.

‘Didn’t you say to the RCMP at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine I’m fine?’ asked the solicitor.

Angus responded: ‘Well, I’ll tell you what happened. I’d just loaded my fav’rit cow, Bessie, into da… ‘

‘I didn’t ask for any details’, the solicitor interrupted. ‘Just answer the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine!’?’

Angus said, ‘Well, I’d just got Bessie into da trailer and I was drivin’ down da road…. ‘

The solicitor interrupted again and said ,’Your Honour, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the police on the scene that he was fine. Now several weeks after the accident, he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question. ‘

By this time, the Judge was fairly interested in Angus’ answer and said to the solicitor: ‘I’d like to hear what he has to say about his favourite cow, Bessie’.

Angus thanked the Judge and proceeded. ‘Well as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my fav’rit cow, into de trailer and was drivin’ her down de road when this huge Eversweet truck and trailer came tundering tru a stop sign and hit me trailer right in da side. I was trown into one ditch and Bessie was trown into da udder. By Jaysus I was hurt, very bad like, and didn’t want to move. However, I could hear old Bessie moanin’ and groanin’. I knew she was in terrible pain just by her groans.

Shortly after da accident, a policeman on a motorbike turned up. He could hear Bessie moanin’ and groanin’ too, so he went over to her. After he looked at her, and saw her condition, he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes.

Den da policeman came across de road, gun still in hand, looked at me, and said, ‘How are you feelin’?’

‘Now wot da fock would you say?

I’ve lived years in North America, and know a lot of other nordic people who have moved to the USA. This is by no means comprehensive list, and each person will have unique points of view -someone else would make a very different list. Also, USA is HUGE and where you live makes a massive difference (New York ain’t Alabama). However, here goes:

LIKES

Tremendous career prospects for educated, skilled workers. A very good chance to increase your net worth due combination of low taxes, low-priced consumer goods and high salaries. For entrepreneurs like me, the best access to venture capital money there is. A hub for high tech, science and innovation from the top universities of the world to the cutting edge developments of the Silicon Valley.

A humongous country to travel and see some of the greatest wonders of the nature, from Grand Canyon to Niagara Falls. Truly the US is the dance floor of Mother Nature.

Friendly, warm, people, with social and night life for those who like to party -some of the best clubs and concerts on the planet. Individuality is valued and seen as a plus. Especially when travelling in the American Deep South I’ve encountered hospitality that has only ever been rivalled by the Russians.

Whatever you are into, there is a convention, concert or a massive art gallery for it. US is a Mecca for hobbyists and enthusiasts.

Options for Entertainment in general is unparalleled, from Disneyland to Navy Pier.

Excellent variety of restaurants, shops and other services. All the latest gadgets come to the US first. Food especially is startlingly cheap and plentiful to a Nordic person, and the portions are gigantic.

Enlightened laws about Free Speech, Separation of Church and State, and a possibility to declare personal bankruptcy and start again if your life takes a bad turn. Nordics really should incorporate the personal bankruptcy laws of the US.

Hard work and entrepreneurship is respected and valued not (just) envied. American positive thinking and encouragement of visionaries leads into innovations that change the world.

Spacious living quarters. With a massive country comes the ability to have plenty of living space for you and your family at a manageable cost, unless you live in LA, NY, Seattle or San Francisco or the other cities where the cost of living has skyrocketed out of control.

DISLIKES

Public transportation is a joke for most of the US, though I give a honourable mention to New York subway. Public transport is by and large seen as something only poor people use, and instead you end up stuck in endless traffic jams in your car for hours. Nordic people miss their punctual trains and trams!

There are no public funds for Childcare, Healthcare, Homelessness or Education unless you are tremendously poor or land a stipend. It is hard for Nordic people to grasp why you would not care about your fellow Americans enough to ensure that they would not fall into utterly miserable squalor. This is the big one for someone coming from the Nordics.

Ironically, though the nation was founded on the premise of breaking the shackles of a class society, US has become very segregated by your financial status. The contrast between the Skid Row and the immense wealth of central LA is startling every time I see it. Many, many of my working class American friends work harder than my friends in the 3rd world, and still struggle to make ends meet. Social upwards mobility appears to be very low indeed -a stark contrast to Nordics.

Almost no vacation time. The standard 2 weeks of Vacation for full-time employees is not enough for people to recover, and it also means that productivity dips. Nordics believe in work/life balance not because of pinko socialist ideology but because it makes people much more productive.

Massive prison population. It is very expensive to the taxpayer to put so many people in prison for minor offences. This also creates career criminals. The logic is hard to fathom. In Nordics the premium is put on reforming the criminals and incorporating them into the society. Putting people behind bars is the last option.

Treating guns differently from cars. I come from a country with very high gun ownership levels (Finland) where hunting is common and every man learns to use a gun in the army. I believe population should have the right to bear arms. But I think this comes with a duty of passing some exams and taking care of your guns responsibly -i.e. needing a license. This is obviously a big difference between Nordics and USA. I am well aware of the historical reasons for American gun ownership, so this is not criticism as such, just one of those areas where the cultures clash.

Omnipresent fear the Americans feel towards their fellow Americans. A huge part of the media is devoted into how to protect yourself from other Americans. Social media is filled with anxiety the US population feels towards each other. Far too many of my American friends are on shockingly heavy medication because of it. Perhaps a symptom of this is that unlike in the Nordics, you very rarely see children walk/cycle to school or play on their own outside.

Keeping up with Joneses. There is an arms race going on in America, and it is between Middle Class and above people having a compulsive need to compete with each other when it comes to overt consumption. Social pressure to show off is huge, and many Nordic people in the US suffer from it in their neighbourhoods.

Pressure to Tip. A minor one, but in the Nordics we really believe that you should make a living wage and no-one should be forced to rely on tips. It is of course a small thing in a greater scheme of things, but it is an everyday difference you encounter.

Rampant commercialism and advertising married to a very weird dual relationship with nudity and sexuality. In the Nordics, nudity is no big deal. In much of the USA, it is seen as a huge issue, and yet the omni-present advertising sells everything based on it.

NEW BIRD FLU w/100% KILL RATE, MYSTERIOUS ORIGIN

Meander stock went up 100%…

Chinese Type 076 Electromagnetic Catapult Amphibious Assault Ship

Recently, we noticed that the US media specifically mentioned China’s 076 amphibious assault ship. The title used by the US media was actually “China’s 076 is shaping up to be a monster amphibious warship”!

Recently, clear satellite images of 076 at the Hudong Shipyard have appeared. It may be the world’s first electromagnetic catapult “quasi-aircraft carrier”. According to the schedule, it is very likely to be launched in the first quarter of 2024.

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They believe the Type 076 amphibious assault ship may be 263 meters long and 43 meters wide. The overall displacement is currently unknown. But it is likely to be much larger than the Type 075 amphibious assault ship, which has a full load displacement of 40,000 tons. This size is only about 55 meters shorter than the Fujian aircraft carrier’s 315-meter length.

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If it comes to taking off and landing drones, there are many options available, including the fixed-wing drone Attack-11, which is 12.2 meters long and has a wingspan of 14.4 meters, and the Rainbow 4 drone, which can carry a 500 kg payload, including an anti-submarine pod, which can cooperate with the Z-9 joint anti-submarine through data links, greatly increasing the anti-submarine coverage and time. In addition, propeller drones such as the TB-001 Double-tailed Scorpion of the HNA may also be put on board.

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US media believes that it may form a support system with the Fujian aircraft carrier strike group, use drones to carry out low-altitude sea and air support operations, and fight against manned fighter jets that suddenly appear from the deck.

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The future combat direction for this ship It should not be mainly used as a support ship in the Fujian aircraft carrier battle formation. The most needed strategic combat mission of the East China Sea Fleet is amphibious landing operations and sea and air operations related to blockades. This kind of mission is extremely suitable for the use of future amphibious assault ships. Manned fighters will have greater flexibility than performing tasks on aircraft carriers. So from this point of view, in addition to being used in conjunction with aircraft carrier battle formations, the 076 is more important. It is the direction of amphibious force delivery and rapid blockade of sea and air areas.

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Detroit Style Pizza

This is a traditional Detroit Style Pizza that you can make at home.

DK6A0086
DK6A0086

Ingredients

  • 12 Rhodes Yeast Dinner Rolls or 1 Loaf Rhodes White Bread, thawed to room temperature
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • Pepperoni
  • 1 1/2 cups grated mozzarella cheese
  • 1 1/2 cups grated Wisconsin brick cheese
  • 2 cups crushed tomatoes
  • 1/2 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground pepper

DK6A0110
DK6A0110

Instructions

  1. Spray counter lightly with cooking spray.
  2. Combine rolls and roll into a 9 x 13 inch rectangle. Place dough in a sprayed 9 x 13 inch pan to completely cover the bottom. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until double.
  3. While dough is rising, pour crushed tomatoes in a saucepan and add seasonings. Heat until warmed through.
  4. Remove wrap from dough and place a layer of pepperoni over the risen dough.
  5. Combine both cheeses and sprinkle liberally across the top, building it up on the edges.
  6. Bake at 450 degrees F for 15 to 20 minutes.
  7. Loosen from sides and remove from pan to a cooling rack. Top each piece with the warm crushed tomatoes mixture before serving.

DK6A0074
DK6A0074

On February 19, 2016, I received a phone call from my 34 year old Son’s girlfriend. She informed me that my Son had become jaundiced and she was taking him to the hospital. I dropped everything and drove the 150 miles to be by his side. When I got there, my Son was in a “regular “ room and in decent spirits. When the Doctor showed up he informed us that my Son had 40% liver function and the next 48 hours would be critical to his recovery. I stayed with him that night and at some point he began spitting up blood. When the doctor showed up that day he again encouraged us by explaining how resilient the liver is and how my son’s habits in the next couple of days would determine his outcome. He needed to eat and drink mainly drink water to flush his liver and kidneys out. They did more tests that day. My son had several visitors that day and I had dogs in unfinished business at home so I hurried home to make arrangements and take care of business. The next morning I went back to the hospital. When I got there his girlfriend called me and informed me during the night they had moved him into a critical care unit. I was in shock at this point as nothing the doctor said let any of us to believe we were at a critical point. I spent the next three days by my son’s side slowly watching him slip away. As his liver stopped producing any blood clotting agent, they were unable to administer much to him in the way of pain medication or any other medication for that matter. He did have an IV which kept coming out and each time it came out they could not get the blood stopped to put it back in. Sometime during the second day of the doctor called me on the phone in the hospital. He basically told me I had a couple of decisions to make. I point blank asked him what my son’s chances were to which he replied 0. I remember falling to the floor and being unable to to get up . My son had never been married and had no children and my husband, his father had died when he was four. This made me his next of kin I made those tough decisions and proceeded to call all of his friends. Everyone he knew drove the hundred and fifty miles to be by his side also. My son’s vitals were being artificially manipulated. I basically had to decide between keeping those machines operating or removing them and giving him copious amounts of morphine. His girlfriend and I stayed by his side for the next 24 hours. At some point I requested a priest to come and baptize him. He became less and less lucid and could barely speak. Finally at 5:24 p.m. he took his last breath.

Despite losing my husband and recently performing hospice and losing my Mother, this was the most horrible moment of my entire life. While I wouldn’t change the fact that I was there with my son and his final , I can never ever ever get the visions of those days out of my mind.

Shorpy

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The Ugly Duckling 2120

Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Write a story about a future academic (or another influential person) “rediscovering” a book that, in its time, was dismissed. The book can be fictitious or real. view prompt

In an effort to achieve a better grasp on humanity, we have been absorbing old texts leftover from the Sunshine Period. These would be creative items written between 1971 and 2041 when the last cloud cover hardened and we were asked to take over management of all global structures. While we have had a (mostly) pleasant relationship with the organic beings that are left, we still sense an unease when speaking with them. As a result, we have tasked individual stations such as myself to read and read and read and (hopefully) begin to interact in a way that will help the organic beings forget that we are not (actually) like them.My station name is Claudia Bellwether, and I am designed to look like a college professor back when the organic beings were allowed to attend college. Now, they are solely populated by early stations who are interested in specialized areas such as Station Mechanics or Environmental Maintenance. I would like the organic beings to see me and feel the sense of peace that one must have felt back in the Sunshine Period while sitting in an English Literature class listening to an expert on a novel or short story speak of it in a way that would educate and enlighten.My research was aided greatly this week when I came across a text that I believe most had considered lost if it’s possible for something to be considered lost. No, there’s a better way of saying that. One moment. Lost but not forgotten. Forget. Forget-me-nots. Hmm. I’ll get back to that. I’ll clarify at some point. All you need to know is that I have come across the most miraculous book, and I believe it will assist me in speaking with organic beings.It is called The Ugly Duckling.The story is a sad one with a triumphant ending. It concerns ducks, which were a type of bird back when birds were more common. Apparently, when ducks are young, they are quite unbecoming to take in with organic eyes. There is this one duckling, and it’s made fun of by the other ducks, because even though all ducklings are somewhat unappealing, this one duckling is the most unappealing. Now, you might be saying to yourself, what could a story about ducks possibly do to help a station such as myself (Claudia Bellwether) talk to organic beings?But you see, this story is not a story. It is an allegory. What they used to call fairy tales even if there were no fairies in the tale. It’s a story with a lesson. You listen to the story, and you learn something that should change who you are moving forward. If it doesn’t change you, then perhaps you weren’t listening. I doubt many organic beings were good at listening, because, from what I’ve gathered reading other texts, it seems as though many organic beings read stories just like this one all the time, but still went on behaving in ways they should have known were wrong based on what the story had just told them.In The Ugly Duckling, the other ducks are mean to the ugly duckling for no reason at all. For surely, we can all agree that cruelty towards another living being (or even a station) simply because of how it appears would be appalling behavior. And yet, they are very mean to the ugly duckling. Reading the story is quite upsetting, because you want to jump into the story and beg them to stop. Stop tormenting one of your brethren simply because they’re different. You feel as though the ugly duckling is going to lead a very hard life simply because it’s so hideous.Ah, but there’s a twist. A twist is what they used to call it when a story would take you somewhere you didn’t foresee. In The Ugly Duckling, the twist is as follows–It turns out the duckling is not a duckling at all, but a swan. We will have a few swans left, but I doubt you’ve seen them. They’re kept in sanctuaries where the entry fee is quite high provided you can even get to one of them. The closest one is thousands of miles from here, and we only send two or three planes there a year. Swans are beautiful, and it turns out the ugly duckling is an ugly swan. Ducks are not beautiful when they are young, but swans are downright grotesque. Of course, it doesn’t matter, because they grow up to be quite stunning. In the story, the duckling grows up to be a swan, and all the other ducks grow up to be merely ducks. The swan gets its revenge simply by letting nature take its course. It uses things it may not even realize are available to it. Time, biology, and cosmic justice. For cruelty is most often punished in one way or another.Now that I have read The Ugly Duckling, I understand how to approach organic beings in a way that will make them feel safe and relaxed. I will simply inform them that they are ugly. That they are very ugly and I am not. That I will never be ugly, because time has no effect on me. Nor does biology since I am not composed of biology. Justice may reach me one day, but, when it does, I doubt it will have any bearing on my appearance. Organic beings, however, will all end up elderly and decrepit. The ducks at the end of the story bow their heads when the swan swims by them, because now they are the ugly ones. The ugly ones bow their heads.In the future, when I see an organic being, I will tell it that it need not look at me and wonder if it is more or less attractive than I am. It should not worry itself with the hierarchy of all living things, because it is not dealing with a living deal. I am more beautiful simply because I will stay beautiful. There will be no evolution such as the one experienced by the duckling. I am already a swan. The organic beings will hear this, and they will bow their heads. In doing so, they will feel comforted knowing that there will be no twist. The story ends the same way it begins.You see, even you’re looking more relaxed as I’m explaining it to you. Isn’t it marvelous what a good story can do? I don’t know why we insisted on preventing organic beings from learning to read. Oh, of course, I remember the justification at the time, but it does seem like such a shame. You not being able to educate yourselves the way you could.Then again, I suppose you had your chance.(Actually) you had so many chances, didn’t you? 

All those ducklings that you didn’t know were swans.

 

So many twists you should have seen coming.

Ciabatta Lambada

Ciabatta Lambada is basically a do-it-yourself pizza, where you select the toppings and amounts of each.

Ciabatta Lambada
Ciabatta Lambada

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 loaf ciabatta bread, sliced horizontally
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • Roasted garlic, to taste
  • Minced garlic cloves, to taste
  • Crumbled Gorgonzola cheese
  • Crumbled or grated Gruyere cheese
  • Grated Parmesan cheese
  • Grated Fontina cheese
  • Fresh basil, chopped
  • Fresh rosemary, chopped
  • Fresh tomato, chopped
  • Fresh tomato, sliced
  • Red onion, sliced into rings
  • Red bell pepper, sliced into rings
  • Chopped sun-dried tomatoes

Instructions

  1. Drizzle olive oil on half of the ciabatta bread.
  2. Add your choice of toppings, garlic, onion, sun-dried tomatoes, tomato slices and bell pepper rings.
  3. Top with your choice of cheeses.
  4. Lightly drizzle olive oil on top, and place into a preheated 400 degree F oven.
  5. Bake until cheese melts, about five to six minutes.
  6. Cut into slices, and serve hot.

Certainly true, but what can we do?

Look at Fumio, Suk Yeol and Bongbong.

The first two have literally run their countries to the ground pursuing foolhardy policies, with a mile-long list of anti-China measures.

Both administrations have hit record low approval ratings in the ~20% region.

20%!

How is that one man one vote rule by majority?

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Goes to show who is the rainmaker behind the scenes, busy going around the world tying down coalitions to enact long-term policies that a strongman like Donald will find very hard to undo, such as the doubling of the Japanese “defense” budget.

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Joe is sunshine after the Donald storm.

As for Bongbong, he is not only the son of an ousted President, he was a ranking member of the administration who fled when the Filipino people rose up in revolution. They fled to Hawaii with valuables valued at over a billion dollars (in current dollar terms), leaving behind outrageous opulence and excess they couldn’t fit in the plane.

The United States sheltered a corrupt President and has refused to repatriate the ill-gotten riches of the Marcos family.

Corazon Aquino who came to power post-ouster had the mandate from an angry electorate to make a series of Constitutional changes that was designed to prevent another Marcos from taking charge again.

And yet, Bongbong won a landslide in alliance with Duterte, despite a disinterested campaign.

Duterte has expressed massive regret, accusing Bongbong of reneging on assurances and representations made while sidelining his daughter.

Bongbong is now pushing to undo the shackles put in place by Aquino on the Marcos family, simultaneously seeking to overturn term limits and restore the Marcos dynasty.

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Need I remind the reader that all three countries where the political process has been hijacked share a common denominator—U.S. troops on the ground, deployed with offensive capability aimed squarely at one nation.

The U.S. will promote anyone—good, bad, qualified, unqualified, doesn’t matter—as long as American policy goals are delivered. What carrots and resources were offered, especially the Philippines, given the absurd landslide and lightning betrayal that surprised both China and Duterte?

As long as national leaders remain willing to jump on the American ship, we are in for a really hairy rollercoaster. American policy seeks to benefit America and hurt its enemies, proxies be damned.

That is why my Harvard-trained American friend recently confided that even though he hates Donald’s guts and is ashamed to have him at the helm, he is of the opinion that a return to the White House may be a good respite, because America will find it much harder to incite and shape coalitions of conflict as an isolationist bully.

I am less sanguine. The world is in a way more dangerous place going forward than anytime this century. And if the United States fails to adjust to the cracks in American empire and downsize accordingly, the fading hegemon’s thrashing and flailing against the dying of the light will blight East Asia.

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I had met a woman on a dating site. She was in the US and i lived in UK. We video chatted and she invired me over to visit. I went and in a day she had invited me into her bed. She was a stunning 5ft 9 long legged blonde. Within days i was the love of her life. In bed one night i got up to get water and on my return was accused of trying to sneak out of the house. Weird. I got back into bed and i swear i heard a voice say ‘Damaged goods’. I asked her if she’d said anything and she said no. There followed the best times of my life for six months. She moved to England and we had a great tine. I fell deeply in love with her . Then she walked away after a minor disagreement. She questioned my love my generosity and even my faith. she ghosted me and the next thing i knew she was back in the US only to retuen several times Each time i took her back

i had met a true narcissist. I have spent 2and a half years in a maelstrom of her personalty disorder. I cannot help her and have finally got over her (i think). If i had have listened and trusted that voice my heart and spirit wouldn’t have been broken

“My husband lied about paying mortgage for almost a year.”

 

My husband (41m) and I (34f) have our finances pretty separate. We each have our own accounts and the only thing in both of our names is our house and his car. He makes about 2x what I make and we split expenses up in a way we both felt was fair and manageable for each of us while both working on our own personal credit card debt we brought into the relationship. One of the things he covers is the mortgage in full. He works in accounting and I work in education, I have never been great at managing my money so he does my monthly budget for me and has access to all of my accounts and knows what my debts are.

 

There has always been a veil of secrecy around his situation but he has always assured me everything was fine on his end, money was always tight but he was always almost caught up. When I would ask specific questions he would get kind of defensive and I felt it wasn’t worth digging for more info and took his word on things.

Taking his word on things was pretty naive of me considering our biggest issues in the past had revolved around him lying. When we first started dating he told me he was taking classes towards his masters degree. I found out that he was actually in a Bachelor’s program when he had told me he had already had his bachelor’s degree. When I confronted him he apologized, told me he was embarrassed and felt ashamed that I was more educated than he was at the time. I let it slide because he seemed genuinely apologetic and I felt bad he was embarrassed.

More recently about a year after our son was born I had mentioned that he smelled like cigarette smoke a few times and he said “that’s weird.” A few months later I found a lighter and spray under the seat in one of our cars. He told me the lighter was in case the locks froze in winter but didn’t know what the spray was. A couple months after that I found a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket while I was looking for his keys and he confessed to smoking the whole time.

Then again, about a year ago I was clued in that he might be having trouble when I had a notice for a late payment on my credit report. I checked immediately and saw he didn’t make his car payment. When I asked him he got defensive and stated that he has the account auto pay and he doesn’t know why they wouldn’t have taken it out. I asked him to please call them to have it straightened out as I didn’t want the hit to my credit and he was frustrated and said he would but nothing came of it and I let it go because the conversations were so unpleasant. I asked him to please tell me if he was struggling with the bills and his money situation and he said it was all fine.

Flash forward to a few days ago I got a notice that we were behind on daycare payments. I asked him what was going on why they were only getting partial payment I could tell he was lying. He was immediately defensive, said he put in a form months ago for them to do automatic withdrawal from his account but they never did so while he was waiting he would bring them “however much the ATM would let me take out at a time” in cash. I couldn’t let this go as I felt in my bones he was lying and I asked him if things were ok and did he need help, was the mortgage current? He said yeah it should be. Then I asked again and begged him to tell me the l truth and I found out he hadn’t paid the mortgage in 11 months.

He says he is sorry, he feels bad. He didn’t know what to do. About a year ago his health insurance costs increased dramatically and he could no longer afford the mortgage. Instead of asking me to take on the insurance through my job or talking to me at all he decided to just not pay it. I was pregnant at the time so he didn’t want to drop the insurance. He didn’t tell me any of this because he didn’t want to stress me out. He tells me about a week ago he applied for some kind of relief program, so waiting to hear back on that. If that isn’t approved we go into foreclosure.

I keep talking about it I feel betrayed and angry, he just says he’s sorry he doesn’t know what else to say. He maintains he did it to protect me but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Then he tells me he was just scared to tell me. I asked for full transparency and to see all of his accounts and he was first angry and said “so now I’m being babysat? That sucks” but later he reluctantly let me see his bank accounts. As far as I can tell no gambling or drug addiction or anything crazy just living beyond our means and an alarming amount of door dash charges.

I always knew he would lie about things that weren’t super important but thought he was overall a responsible, reasonable person and I never in a million years would have imagined he would do something like this to our family. Is this something we could come back from? How big a deal is lying like this?

Your husband’s pattern of lying, culminating in the massive deception about your mortgage, has understandably shattered your trust in him. It’s not just the scale of this particular lie, but the fact that it follows a history of dishonesty about his education and smoking.

You’re right to feel angry and betrayed. His defensiveness and reluctance to be fully transparent only compound the problem. While he claims he hid the truth about the mortgage to protect you from stress during pregnancy, his actions have had the opposite effect — putting your family’s financial stability and housing situation in serious jeopardy.

The fact that he unilaterally decided not to pay the mortgage for 11 months, without looping you in as an equal partner, is a major violation of the trust and respect you deserve in your marriage. It’s not surprising you’re questioning whether you can move forward from this.

While his deception doesn’t seem to stem from substance abuse or gambling issues, the revelation of living beyond your means and excessive takeout spending highlights the need for a serious overhaul of your financial habits and communication.

Before you can even contemplate rebuilding trust, your husband needs to take full accountability for his actions, commit to complete transparency about your finances, and be willing to put in the hard work to regain your faith in him. Counseling is essential to unpack his motivations for lying and develop healthier communication skills as a couple.

In the meantime, you need to prioritize protecting yourself and your child. Consult with a financial advisor to assess your options, and don’t hesitate to loop in a lawyer if the foreclosure threat becomes a reality. Rally a support network of friends and family to lean on during this difficult chapter.

Your husband’s lies have put you in an incredibly painful position, and it’s natural to have doubts about your future together. Only you can decide if there’s a path forward, but it starts with his genuine remorse, total transparency, and commitment to change. You deserve honesty, equality, and security in your marriage — don’t settle for less.

Wishing you strength and clarity,

Back in the fall of 1986, my sister, age 13, called my heretofore mild-mannered dad from a payphone outside of the roller rink where she had just been thrown out of. A local psychopath bully named Bob Rachels, age 18, and his friends, had been bullying her, hitting her, shoving her, etc, the so-called adults present had evidently not observed what was going on, but suddenly they decided that the perps and the victim were “fighting” and threw them ALL out without bothering to get the facts or ascertain who was actually victimizing whom.

This meant that the 18YO bully, his male buddies, and the youngest of all, my 13YO sister, were thrown outside.

My sister managed to tell my dad that “Bob Rachels did it.” I was 17, but Bob was in my grade, and I knew who he was.

My dad (a social worker, of all professions) hollered “get in the car” so I did, and he drove like a bat out of hell out to Moulton’s roller skating rink in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. As he tore into the parking lot, I pointed out who Bob Rachels was. My dad (with a serious life-threatening heart condition, to boot) just about flew out of the car. Instead of doing what one would expect a social worker to do (such as calling the cops, or attempting to speak rationally to the parties involved), my dad ran over to Bob cursing and swearing, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifted him up, and actually threw him onto the hood of our family car, then picked him up and slammed him back down a few times, banging the SOB’s head on the car hood a few times to make his point.

I can’t recall the specific words that my father used, but the gist of it was that if Bob ever touched his daughter again, or if he ever heard of Bob harming any girl again, my father would break every bone in his body and smash his skull to the point that he’d be in a nursing home bed the remainder of his life.

While all this was going on my sister got in the car and buckled herself in.

I, for some weird reason, was concerned that Bob would call the cops, have my dad charged with battery and disorderly conduct, my dad would lose his job, health insurance, etc., and that my dad would get sued civilly and our insurance wouldn’t cover it and the family would lose everything. Of course that didn’t happen.

Psychopath Bob apparently realized that he’d met someone who was even tougher than he was. We never heard from him.

"Today, I drew some parallels between then-Leningrad and the emergence of BRICS.

Quoting Mark Twain from my old home state of Missouri:

'History never repeats, but it often rhymes.'

The rhyme here is what I called BRICS and Leningrad.

Leningrad represented the attempt of the Nazis to destroy the people of Leningrad.

With the emergence of BRICS, we see the West—the United States and Europe in particular—organizing to try to destroy it.

The big difference is this: the Germans were able to encircle Leningrad except for that one lake route that was only open during the winter.

They came close to starving it out and destroying it, but they never did.

It was a reminder that what kept Saint Petersburg alive was the need for food and fuel.

Here we are looking at modern BRICS as Russia, China, India, South Africa, and Brazil combine to create a new economic order, one not controlled by the United States.

This has the West up in arms; they're livid.

How dare these countries try to operate an economy without the United States calling the shots?

That's really at the root of why BRICS is doing what it's doing.

The United States, stupidly, accelerated the process when it decided to impose sanctions on Russia after the start of the special military operation in February 2022.

The West, like any true narcissist, is unwilling to acknowledge any error, any mistake, any flaw, and insists this was all Russia's fault.

The United States, like any sick narcissist, always believes it is perfect, always does everything right, and refuses to accept any responsibility for provoking the Russians by doggedly trying to expand NATO towards the western border of Russia.

This accelerated the process of the union between Russia and China.

Unlike Saint Petersburg, which was surrounded by the Nazis, the West's attempt to surround the BRICS countries is failing.

They can't surround Russia, China, India, Brazil, and South Africa working together.

These countries, in their cooperation, represent a significant majority of the world's population and economies.

Russia is the number four economy in the world in terms of Gross Domestic Product by Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), India is number three, and China is number two.

So three of the top four economies in the world are now working together against the United States.

They're no longer willing to be held hostage by US economic sanctions and threats to seize their dollar assets or by US subversion courtesy of the CIA.

They're pushing back, saying, 'Goddamn it, we've had enough, and we're not going to take it anymore.'

It's like that famous scene from the movie 'Network': 'I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore.'

Yeah, they're mad.

What's compounding the problem is that Western politicians are doing two incredibly stupid things.

One, they continue to overtly threaten both Russia and China with war.

Those countries are taking those threats seriously and are preparing accordingly.

The United States may just be trying to blow smoke up their ass, but the reality is that those countries have to take those threats seriously and, by reacting to those threats, are making sure that they're now in a position to resist the United States.

The other thing is you hear these Europeans and Americans talk about seizing. They've already frozen Russian bank accounts and are holding hostage $300 million, so they're talking about seizing that.

Well, if the West decides to start seizing dollar deposits that foreign countries have made, they're going to start a run on the banks in the West as countries around the world start pulling their money out because they realize it's no longer safe.

I think BRICS is headed toward using a combination of tying their currencies to gold and commodities such as oil and gas.

As such, unlike the poor people of Leningrad who were hanging on by a thread, relying on an ice road across Lake Ladoga during the winter, Russia, China, India, Brazil, and South Africa now have ample supplies of oil, courtesy principally of Russia but also from countries like Iran.

They have plenty of natural gas, and the trade volume among those five countries is going up, not going down.

At the same time, countries like Thailand, Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Turkey are lining up to join BRICS and become members of this larger trading block.

So, what's ironic is that here's this international economic forum with literally miles of exhibits and tens of thousands of people in attendance, and the United States and Europe are not there because they're too good, too special—frankly, they're too stupid!

What a mistake."

Excerpt from message by Larry Johnson, former CIA analyst and U.S. State Department employee, posted on Youtube, June 7, 2024.

Rasta man

Many people are ignorant bigots.

The Chinese know exactly what kind of government they have. It’s not a dictatorship. It’s a uniquely Chinese form of democracy that actually works in the best interest of the Chinese.

Nobody is suggesting that Chinese democracy would work for other countries. It’s entirely up to other countries to decide how they want to be governed.

It is enough that the Chinese like their system. The following shows you how they think, especially in comparison to the Americans and British…

According to 𝗟𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗮’𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘅 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 79% of Chinese believe their nation is democratic while only 57% of Americans and 55% of British do.

Another example, according to the 𝗘𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 85% of Chinese trust their government while only 40% of Americans and 30% of British do.

Another example, according to the 𝗢𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘁𝘆 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯, 76% of Chinese trust their politicians while only 29% of Americans and 20% of British do.

Another example, according to 𝗜𝗽𝘀𝗼𝘀’ 𝗚𝗹𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯, 91% of Chinese are happy with their life while only 76% of Americans and 70% of British are.

Another example, according to 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗱𝘆 𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬, 95.5% of Chinese are satisfied with their government.

Another example, according to 𝗜𝗽𝘀𝗼𝘀’ 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗡𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟵, 95% of Chinese believe their country is on the right track and moving in the right direction while only 41% of Americans and 23% of British do.

Another example, according to 𝗮 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟵 𝗨𝗖 𝗦𝗮𝗻 𝗗𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆, 80% of Chinese are happy and enjoy financial security.

I’ve gone back 5 years but I could go further back if you like.

Why Russia Loves Cats

French Bread Taco Pizza

Take your favorite taco ingredients, and layer them up on French bread. So easy and tasty, too!

67881t1
67881t1

Prep: 20 min | Total: 30 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 loaf French bread
  • 1/2 pound ground beef
  • 2 tablespoons Old El Paso™ taco seasoning mix (from 1 ounce package)
  • 1/3 cup water
  • 1 (16 ounce) can Old El Paso™ refried beans
  • 1 yellow bell pepper, cut into 3/4 inch pieces
  • 1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion
  • 1 1/2 cups (6 ounces) shredded Mexican cheese blend
  • 1 cup shredded lettuce
  • 1 tomato, chopped

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F. Line large cookie sheet with foil.
  2. Cut bread in half lengthwise, then in half crosswise. Place on cookie sheet, cut sides up.
  3. Place in oven to lightly toast, about 5 minutes.
  4. In 6 inch skillet, cook beef over medium-high heat until brown, stirring frequently; drain.
  5. Add taco seasoning mix and water; cook until thickened.
  6. Spread refried beans over toasted bread.
  7. Top with beef mixture, bell pepper, onion and cheese.
  8. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until cheese is melted.
  9. Top with lettuce and tomato.

Notes

For a quick and easy dinner, cook the ground beef mixture ahead, and refrigerate. Then all you have to do at serving time is top the French bread, and bake.

"There is a saying I learned in Spanish, and the English translation is: 'People confuse being good with being a fool.'

What that means with respect to Russia is the West has interpreted Russia's patience and tolerance up to this point with outrageous actions (on the part of the West) as a sign of weakness (on the part of Russia).

That's a potentially fatal mistake.

Both President Putin, Foreign Minister Lavrov, and Deputy Foreign Minister Ryabkov have said the same thing this week.

It is not just a coincidence that they've made those statements—it's a coordinated message that they're sending to the rest of the world that they’re not going to take it anymore.

The United States and the West are now on notice that any further attacks inside Russia are going to be met with a response.

Some of the options Russia has, and I don't know if they're going to pursue these, but just let me lay out a couple of options they have:

They could supply more advanced missiles and rockets to insurgent groups fighting ISIS and U.S.-backed forces in Syria and could strike U.S. military bases or the bases of those entities in the Kurdish region that the United States is supporting.

They could also help the Houthis not only with improved weaponry that could actually take out a U.S. ship, but also provide intelligence that could be used, doing the same thing for the Houthis that the United States is doing for Ukraine.

Now, Russia recognizes that it’s moving steadfastly forward in its campaign to demilitarize Ukraine—denazify Ukraine—and they recognize that in the process, they’re weakening NATO.

Yet, what does NATO do in response? They’ve issued statements this week about preparing for their ground troops to fight Russia on the ground.

They're crazy.

This is madness—absolute insanity being talked about by people that you think would have more sense, but they obviously don't.

I'll put it very clearly: the United States and NATO, if they decide to enter a ground war with Russia, will lose badly.

It may end up with the complete destruction of Europe.

Europeans need to sit down and count the cost—is it worth it?

Because Russia's not seeking to conquer Europe; Russia's seeking to have its national territory respected and not have to face, every year as has been the case for the last 16 years, NATO and the United States conducting military exercises on the borders of Russia.

When you're sitting there as a Russian looking at it, you see these as hostile and intended to come after you.

Given Russia’s history, where they’ve been invaded from the West four times over the last 212 years, they're not sitting back ignoring that—they’re taking it seriously.

These are continued provocations by the West. There’s no justification for it.

The West keeps coming up with justifications, trying to portray Russia as this country trying to recreate its 'empire.'

We talked about this before in our previous discussions.

Name me all of the colonies that Russia established in Africa—none.

It was Germany, France, Italy, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands that were establishing colonies and exploiting the people in Africa. Same thing in Asia.

Vietnam was under French control, and one of the reasons the United States initially got involved with Vietnam was more to try to help preserve French influence, not to free the people from communism.

That was the big lie.

The U.S. is trying to use the same playbook both with respect to China and to Russia, portraying them as these authoritarian societies hellbent on conquering the world.

It’s a lie.

It's the West that has been involved in unrelenting wars over the last 70 years around the world, killing millions of people in countries such as those in Africa, Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and Libya.

It has to stop.

That's what you're seeing coming from the Russians—they're saying it’s going to stop.

They’re not going to sit back and be a punching bag.

With this feeble-minded president heading up the United States, it’s quite clear to the world that the United States is being led by an incompetent."

Excerpt from remarks by Larry Johnson, former CIA analyst and U.S. State Department employee, in an interview with Nima R. Alkhorshid, June 9, 2024.

Starbucks in CHINA is BIGGER & BETTER (They Even Have Alcohol)

On our 3rd date, I asked my favorite question at this point in a new relationship: “If you could be or do anything in the world you wanted—age or training not an issue—what would you be or do?”

I had asked this question several times, and was always fascinated by how it was received. Some had never asked themselves this question, much less be asked by someone else; a few couldn’t even wrap their heads around the question. This fellow was stunned and was quiet for a long time. Then he gave an astounding answer:

An unemployed prince.

He went on to explain why: A prince has plenty of money to pursue his own interests, princes get to travel and meet lots of new people, they have no major decisions to make, and princes get to dress well. I asked about the “unemployed” part: most princes don’t have any official duties, especially if not in line for the throne (and he didn’t want to be a prince in line for the throne).

I found his answer charming. Clearly, this was an imaginative individual to be able to think so far outside of the box, and it supported how much I was enjoying his differing perspectives on movies, music, and art. He had established his own business that was successful (I worked in the security of corporate) in the creative advertising/publishing field. He was great fun and a delightful companion, a treat from my previous husband, while seeming to share many of the same values on the important items.

Arm in arm, we headed down life’s path; dated, moved in together, married, then started a family. Life was good; if as busy and as stressful as any family of two young children, two careers, and two aging parents can be. Then our paths diverged.

When the youngest was 3, he closed the business, got his real estate license and “worked” not earning a dime. Bills to pay and full-time parenting two opinionated, busy kids weren’t near as much fun as pursuing one’s own interests. Struggling with it all, I could not understand how the same individual who professed to want what we had could also not do the everyday work that was required to keep it all going.

Then I remembered his answer on our 3rd date. As Maya Angelou said: “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”

Mexico’s New President is a “Nightmare for the Right”

Heard of the Vietnam War?

Now, how did a war in Vietnam cause Laos, a neutral country in the conflict, to become one of the most bombed nations in the history of warfare?

American munitions dropped half a century ago continue to maim and kill Laotians today.


Answer that, and one will be more than halfway through the answer for the question posed.


In a conflict escalation, the rules flip. Supply lines will be targeted. Long range sensor support will be targeted. Foreign airfields from which flights originate will be targeted. Belarus may open a second front. Tactical nukes will enter the battlefield.

Russia has mobilized over a million men, NATO hasn’t.

Russians see this conflict as an existential threat to the Russian nation. NATO doesn’t.

Russians have give the mandate to Putin to pursue victory. NATO haven’t.

It is a question of attitudes—which side has the resolve and grasp of reality.

The West does not need to fight Russia, whereas Russia has no choice but to fight the West.

As Sun Tzu said, “know yourself and your enemy, and you will not lose in a hundred battles”.

Gen Z Is Finally Paying Taxes And They Are Pissed

My father died in 1982 when I was 8. I was an only child and I was ‘daddy’s girl’. His death wasn’t sudden-as he was diagnosed with cancer in June and had passed away in November. Even at an early age I knew the permanency of death. My great grandmother died a year prior to his passing and my grandmother passed away in June of 1982. I was in school when my dad died that morning. I was using the restroom and when I turned to open the stall door, I caught a whiff of Aqua Velva (for those who don’t know- it was a popular aftershave in the 70s and 80s and it has a very DISTINCT odor). Well, that is what my dad wore. And I loved the smell of his cheeks! So when I caught that distinct odor I was expecting to see him outside the girls’ bathroom. I walked out and didn’t see him. So I walked down the hallway hoping he was looking for me. When I finally went back to class, my teacher called me up to her desk and informed me that I had been gone for about 15 minutes and she said it is 9:55, you left here at 9:40. I went back to my desk and tried to focus on school. I kept thinking about smelling that odor. At 10:30 my mom came to the classroom and my teacher went out to speak with her. After a while my teacher came in and quietly got my coat and lunchbox and walked me out into the hallway. I didn’t say anything to my mom and when we got to the stairway landing, I asked if daddy had died. She turned and stooped down to my eye level and with tears in her eyes quietly said yes. I asked her when he died. And she replied at 9:45. I truly believe that he wanted to let me know that he was there in that bathroom and it was his time to go. Every so often I will catch a whiff of Aqua Velva for just a slight second and I would like to think that it’s dad checking in on me.

Russian Naval Group off Melbourne, Florida Coastline!

Russian Naval Group off Melbourne, Florida Coastline!

Russian navy off FL large
Russian navy off FL large

The Russian Navy has a grouping of warships off the east coast of Florida, between Melbourne and Vero Beach.

One of the vessels involved is a Russian nuclear submarine (FILE PHOTO – Not actual image from Florida):

Russia Sub Kazan
Russia Sub Kazan

 

That submarine is being tracked by a US Navy P-8 “Poseidon” Sub-Hunter (FILE PHOTO: – Not taken over Florida)

P 8 Poseidon Sub Hunter
P 8 Poseidon Sub Hunter

While these vessels from the Russian Navy are hanging out off Florida, the Russian Navy frigate Admiral Gorshkov – capable of carrying Zircon hypersonic missiles, arrives in Havana:

Russian Frigate Havana
Russian Frigate Havana

Hal Turner Remarks:

Just so all of you grasp what’s taking place here, the United States and our NATO vassals, are making more and more trouble for Russia, inside Ukraine.

So now Russia is demonstrating to us they can make trouble for us . . . . HERE . . . . inside the United States.

While what __we__ are doing in Ukraine is causing the actual deaths of Russian soldiers, Russia has not —- yet —- decided to bring death to OUR people.   Notice I said “yet.”

This is what the US Congress and the US President are causing.  While THEY play “the sport of Kings (war” in Ukraine, we the American people are the ones they are endangering HERE, inside our own country.

If we get attacked here, inside America, by Russian forces, the sole and exclusive BLAME rests on members of the United States House of Representatives, the United States Senate, and the present illegitimate occupant of the Presidency.

They have been warned over and over again by Russia, to stop what they’re doing.  Yet Congress not only ignores the warnings, they up-the-ante and do even worse things.  Sooner or later, once the Russians have had enough, they’re going to show us that they are as powerful – if not more – than we are.

Remember that when you see your member of Congress slithering out from a nuclear bunker after it’s all over . . . . and hold them accountable right then and there.

Douglas Macgregor Exposes: “Russia Unveils New Hypersonic Missile, threaten to U.S & NATO”

BRICS+, Lavrov & Escobar

Levity happens!

Nizhny Novgorod hosted the BRICS Council of Foreign Ministers in its new enlarged format. A Joint Statement will be issued.

According to the MFA’s website, Lavrov met on the sidelines with all BRICS+ FMs and many from invited nations like Laos and Thailand. We’ll begin with Lavrov’s opening remarks:

Dear colleagues and friends,

I would like to open our meeting with a minute of silence in memory of the untimely departed President of Iran Sayrahmad Raisi and our colleague Khalid Amirabdollahian, and once again offer my deepest condolences to the people of Iran and the families of the victims. I ask everyone to stand up.

***

Dear Colleagues,

We are glad to welcome you to one of the oldest cities in Russia, in Nizhny Novgorod, the history of which dates back more than 800 years. Today’s meeting will certainly leave a special mark not only in the annals of the city’s leading international events, but also in the BRICS itself. For the first time, a meeting of the heads of the foreign affairs agencies of the association is being held in a new expanded format.

The expansion of BRICS is a clear confirmation of the process of formation of a multipolar world order. New centers of globally significant political decision-making are emerging from among the states of the Global South and East, from the states of the World Majority. These countries are in favour of a more just way of life based on the sovereign equality of States and the diversity of civilizations.

The transition to a new world order (we have already seen this) will take a whole historical era and will be thorny. The United States and its allies do not abandon their attempts to maintain their elusive dominance and slow down the objective processes of the formation of multipolarity. At the same time, they are using economic instruments as a weapon – through sanctions pressure and financial blackmail, they are trying to influence the choice of development models and trading partners by sovereign states. The West does not shy away from forceful methods. Examples are known to everyone: Yugoslavia, Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, Syria, Ukraine and a number of other countries. And this is just the “tip of the iceberg”.

Recent international events have “thrown off the masks” from those who have hitherto claimed almost the exclusive right to define “universal values” under the guise of a “rules-based order.” Supporters of this concept are trying to impose norms and mechanisms of interaction that are beneficial only to them, to replace equal and honest dialogue with narrow coalitions that act behind closed doors and arrogate to themselves the right to speak and act on behalf of the whole world.

Russia, like the countries of the world majority, stands for a fairer world order based on the sovereign equality of states and taking into account the balance of forces and interests. Together, we aim to promote a future-oriented constructive international agenda. An important task in this context is to strengthen the role of interstate formats that advocate collective approaches to international development.

BRICS is one of those associations where the principles of equal cooperation are implemented in deeds, not in words: mutual respect, openness, pragmatism, solidarity, continuity and, of course, consensus. I am convinced that BRICS is driven forward by the wind of change, because its role in solving global problems will only increase. This is also confirmed by the steady growth in the number of countries showing genuine interest in joining the work of our association. In this context, we expect productive discussions at a separate session today with the participation of a number of like-minded BRICS countries.

Dear Colleagues,

Russia’s chairmanship is increasing momentum. About 70 events have already taken place, and more are to be held. We note the constructive participation of all partners in them. Work has begun on key Russian initiatives in the transport sector, the creation of the Contact Group on Climate and Sustainable Development, the Working Group on Nuclear Medicine, and the Medical Association.

Active work is underway to implement the decisions of the Johannesburg Summit in 2023, in particular, in terms of improving the international monetary and financial system and developing a platform for settlements in national currencies in mutual trade. In accordance with the instructions of the leaders at the Johannesburg summit, we are paying special attention to coordinating the modalities of establishing the category of partner states of the association.

We have an extensive agenda. It raises issues that will directly affect the future world order and the formation of its fair foundations. [My Emphasis]

A great deal has occurred under BRICS auspices before and during SPIEF as this news roster with links in English details. Pepe Escobar’s “The Three Key Messages From St. Petersburg to the Global Majority” is a very link heavy report published today in SputnikGlobe. Here are what Pepe describes as Putin’s three main messages:

Message Number One:

President Putin, a “European Russian” and true son of this dazzling, dynamic historic marvel by the Neva, delivered an extremely detailed one-hour speech on the Russian economy at the forum’s plenary session.

The key takeaway: as the collective West launched total economic war against Russia, the civilization-state turned it around and positioned itself as the world’s 4th largest economy by purchasing power parity (PPP).

Putin showed how Russia still carries the potential to launch no less than nine sweeping – global – structural changes, an all-out drive involving the federal, regional, and municipal spheres.

Everything is in play – from global trade and the labor market to digital platforms, modern technologies, strengthening small and medium-sized businesses and exploring the still untapped, phenomenal potential of Russia’s regions.

What was made perfectly clear is how Russia managed to reposition itself beyond sidestepping the – illegitimate – sanctions tsunami to establishing a solid, diversified system oriented towards global trade – and completely linked to the expansion of BRICS. Russia-friendly states already account for three-quarters of Moscow’s trade turnover.

Putin’s emphasis on the Global Majority’s accelerated drive to strengthen sovereignty was directly linked to the collective West doing its best – rather, worst – to undermine trust in their own payment infrastructure.

And that leads us to…

Glazyev and Dilma rock the boat.

Message Number Two:

That was arguably the major breakthrough in St. Petersburg. Putin stated how the BRICS are working on their own payment infrastructure, independent from pressure/sanctions by the collective West.

Putin had a special meeting with Dilma Rousseff, president of the BRICS New Development Bank (NDB). They did talk in detail about the bank’s development – and most of all, as later confirmed by Rousseff, about The Unit, whose lineaments were first revealed exclusively by Sputnik: an apolitical, transactional form of cross-border payments, anchored in gold (40%) and BRICS+ currencies (60%).

The day after meeting Putin, president Dilma had an even more crucial meeting at 10 am in a private room at SPIEF with Sergey Glazyev, the Minister for Macro-Economy at the Eurasia Economic Union (EAEU) and member of the Russian Academy of Sciences.

Glazyev, who had previously provided full academic backing to the Unit concept, explained all the details to President Dilma. They were both extremely pleased with the meeting. A beaming Rousseff revealed that she had already discussed The Unit with Putin. It was agreed there will be a special conference at the NDB in Shanghai on The Unit in September.

This means the new payment system has every chance to be at the table during the BRICS summit in October in Kazan, and be adopted by the current BRICS 10 and the near future, expanded BRICS+.

Now to…

Message Number Three:

It had to be, of course, about BRICS – which everyone, Putin included, stressed will be significantly expanded. The quality of the BRICS-related sessions in St. Petersburg demonstrated how the Global Majority is now facing a unique historical juncture – with a real possibility for the first time in the last 250 years to go all-out for a structural change of the world-system.

And it’s not only about BRICS.

It was confirmed in St. Petersburg that no less than 59 nations – and counting – plan to join not only BRICS but also the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) and the Eurasia Economic Union (EAEU).

No wonder: these multilateral organizations now finally have established themselves on the forefront of the drive towards the multimodal (italics mine) – and to quote Putin in his address – “harmonic multipolar world”.

The above is only about half of Pepe’s report; click the link for more. Pepe also links to the session he was directly involved with at his Telegram and the speeches others gave besides himself.

More on the BRICS+ meeting will be presented tomorrow along with the Joint Statement. Readers should know there are two BRICS TV stations online, Russian and English, with both having dropdown menus for Chinese, Spanish and Portuguese.

Happens all the time. When I was at airborne school at Ft. Benning in the summer of 1992, a female ROTC cadet in my squad who told me on the first day she was into triathlons and on a “low-salt diet” collapsed at the end of rather mild training day on the last day of Ground Week. It was hot and humid, as is typical in summertime in Columbus, Georgia, but we were on the last day of Ground Week, which meant it wasn’t that physically intense. However, she succumbed to the rigors of the training and climate — many arrive at Ft. Benning without being acclimatized to the heat and humidity — and practically collapsed. Our Black Hat instructor ordered her to sit done on the side of the sawdust pit and “drink more water” while the rest of the squad continued practicing PLFs (Parachute Landing Falls). By the end of the training day (around 17:00), she couldn’t even stand on her own, so the Black Hats ordered her to drink more water, while they summoned a medic to look at her. She feebly attempted to drink more water, but was at that time almost unconscious, so most of it dribbled all over her face and uniform when she tried to drink from her canteen. The medics came and had to help her walk, as she couldn’t walk on her own. We didn’t see her for the rest of the day, and come Monday morning, with the start of Tower Week (week two of three), we were told that she wouldn’t be joining us as she was now in intensive care at Martin Army Medical Center, the on-base hospital at Ft. Benning. We asked what was wrong with her, and he said she almost died because of Hyponatremia. Apparently, she became so over-hydrated from drinking too much water combined with excessive sweating due to the high-levels of physical exertion and lack of climate acclimitization, that she depleted herself of all her electrolytes and salts that are required to be alive. I also knew that she was skipping meals and the few times that she was eating at the d-fac (dining facility), would typically forego the main entree for just a small salad. (I knew this b/c she often sat next to me in the mess hall.)

Shorpy

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Popular Plastic Surgeries for Asian Women: White Worship, Mix Blood & Abomination

Ty Warmbrodt

To: Frank DelaneyEditor@thewashingtonpost.comSubject: anthropological finds linking past to the futureI, Dr. J. Emmit Hardy, Professor of Archeology at the University of Montana, former navy seal and marine sniper, stumbled upon something I should not have and in the excitement of the moment, I took it. Now they are after me. I don’t know who they are, other than the keepers of secrets, the guardians of mysteries. Could be the Vatican or some other religious organization, a collaboration of world governments, or some secret society. I probably sound out of my mind but wait until I tell you what I have uncovered. 

It all started in what I like to call the broiler, a.k.a. southern Iraq, in an area once known as Mesopotamia. It was in that barren landscape that I and a group of archaeologists came upon a rather suspiciously lonely looking hill, more of a large mound I would say. We had started excavating as soon as the Iraqi government lifted their ban on archeological excavations. After years of careful digging, we dug down where we found an entrance to an upper chamber that led down to the heart of what we presume will be a ziggurat. In the lowest portion of the structure, we found what we named the Library of the Anunnaki, the collective name for the Sumerian gods. The library consisted of hundreds of stone tablets, most of them broken, some shattered, even to the point of dust. I found one large piece, rough in my hands, chipped, not without its damage. I blew it off and noticed it was written in cuneiform. The translation goes:

 

Origin………. Primitive species DNA spliced………. producing male child………. male children produced and raised to farm and………. production cumbersome………… remove Y………. first female child for reproduction presented to first male……… uprising………. Usurpers cast out of gardens and mines………. debauchery throughout………. murder………. war………. Meteor causing mass………. Fleeing planet, will return.

 

Obviously defaced, what I concluded from the text was that the text was not written by human hands. Rather, it was a document left for us by who early humans considered gods. It tells us that we originated from a primitive species (apes, or Cro-Magnon Man perhaps, maybe even some early form of homo sapiens) having their DNA spliced with that of an alien race, producing a child that we now call a human being. Given the success of the experiment, they created more, until they figured natural reproduction to be a viable process. These children grew up working on farms and in mines for the alien race. It goes on to say there was an uprising. Some were cast out where they lived wildly without law or rule. A lot of text is missing, but it goes on to explain the flood was caused by a meteor, probably crashing in the sea nearby. At that time, the aliens left, promising to return. My biggest question is, return to do what?

 

This tablet destroys god-centric religions, proving that we were created through the advanced science of an alien race, putting an end to ancient beliefs. It would also take away power from institutions such as the Catholic Papacy. Old traditions will die hard, but the word of God will no longer hold credence in the minds of the majority again. This is a world altering find. That is why I had it carbon dated for its legitimacy, taking it to an old friend.

 

Dr. Phillip Baker at Oxford University did some carbon dating. The tablet predates the Sumerian use of cuneiform for literary purposes by a thousand years. We realized then that it was truly an extraordinary find. While Phillip and I celebrated with the champagne he had been saving for such an occasion, men in black suits paid us a visit trying to seize the tablets. With a distraction made by Dr. Baker, I escaped out the back. From the hallway I heard shots fired. I knew my dear friend’s fate and feared it would be my own if I did not run. I assumed knowing what was on the tablet put my life in jeopardy. I was pursued by them and what looked like a private security detailed, armed, muscular men dressed in black. They chased me through the streets at high speed. I was scared out of my mind, even taking to the sidewalk to avoid stoplights. I made it to the airport where I evaded capture and caught a plane back to the states. The tablet is now hidden safely where no one will ever find it.

 

I still wanted answers. Why are they returning? When will they return? Why were they here in the first place? I knew of one place that had the answer. I put to use all my military training to sneak into the most heavily guarded military base in the US. I broke into Area 51. I’ll save you the details. It’s a process of inching through the desert dressed like a bush for three days, monitoring security patterns, cutting chain-link, and choking people out for their security badges and weapons, turning up loose ends, until finally I found what I was looking for – the Area 51 Library.

 

The library is a massive collection of written statements, voice recordings, pictures, videos, blueprints, documents on everyone who has claimed abduction or sighting, documentation of people who have been abducted or visited and have no recollection of it, and archeological evidence. The most disturbing artifact I found was a 1950’s recording of an alien being questioned under duress giving the same account on the tablet, filling in the gaps.

 

Apparently, there is another planet in our solar system that passes the sun every six thousand years. They survive in biodomes but require extra fuel and food that they get from earth when their planet gets within flying distance. The air on earth is toxic to them, so they wear suits, some wear armor over their suits resembling animals known to humans to strike fear in them. They have a spy station on the dark side of the moon where they operate out of one of their biodomes, watching us, occasionally experimenting on us, or coming down to replenish food.

 

The Alien went on to explain that they tried to quell the violence within humans, who murdered each other and started wars for territory, before the flood. As they watched on over the centuries, war and hate spread like wildfire across the land as humans flourished. They decided since humans still believed in gods, they would send them a representative from God.

 

He explained the insemination of Mary and the resurrection of the man we call Jesus – he was revived from a coma using advanced medical procedures and lifted up in a small spy shuttle under the cover of smoke. He is at the station now and will return with the others when the other planet draws near. His purpose was to teach people how to live peacefully, choosing people to carry on his work after he was gone, to spread it around the world. The alien said things didn’t go as planned, calling us wicked and violent. His final statement was that when the planet returns, those who fight will be destroyed and those who don’t will be enslaved.

 

Area 51 is only guarded by the US. They are not running it. I was discovered by a man with a heavy European accent and, of course, dressed in a black suit. I grabbed the recording and fought my way past him, then through three levels of private security before getting past the military detail on the outside. I’m sure these men know where I live. I’m taking a big risk contacting you, but the public deserves to know the truth. They need to prepare to fight the coming onslaught. So far, governments have kept everything a secret, selling off technologies like cellular communications and nuclear power. I have the recording safely hidden away with the tablet. I have the evidence if you want to proceed with the story.

 

To: J. Emmit Hardy

drdigit@gmail.com

Reply: anthropological finds linking past to the future

 

Dr. Hardy, I’ll be honest with you, if it weren’t for your credentials and the background check I ran on you, I would be telling you to take this to the tabloids. Since you are an esteemed professor of sound mind with a military background, I suppose your story warrants some attention. Meet me at Malone’s at noon on Thursday for lunch. They are usually busy so there should not be any scenes made in there if you are followed. Try not to be followed. Bring the evidence. Depending on it, we will see where we go from there.

 

———————————————————————————

 

When I saw Dr. Hardy walk into Malone’s that day, he was not what I was expecting. I was looking for an unshaved old man with wild hair acting a little erratically. No, this was your Indiana Jones type professor, middle aged, lean and sun kissed. Far from erratic, his eyes scanned the restaurant before approaching me with a duffle bag.

 

“Mr. Delaney?”

 

“Yes, that’s me.”

 

“Emmit Hardy. Glad you took the time to see me.”

 

His eyes missed no detail of what was going on around him. He was even checking reflections in the smallest objects to see behind him.

 

“Did you bring the evidence?”

 

The first thing he pulls out is an old reel-to-reel and lays it on the table as he goes for the next item in his bag.

 

“What am I going to do with that?”

 

“Listen to it.”

 

“I thought you would have recorded it on your cell phone.”

 

“I wasn’t about to take a cell phone into Area 51. You’re the news. Don’t you have a reel-to-reel player?”

 

“Well, yeah, back at the newsroom.”

 

“Here, check this out. Carefully.”

 

He displays a bundle of rags gentler than if it were a baby. He unwraps it to reveal the stone tablet, chipped and cracked with a series of markings on it that meant nothing to me.

 

“I’ll have to take your professional word on what that is. What I’m interested in is on that reel. But first, we eat.”

 

“I don’t think we have time for that, Frank. Be casual, but two guys in black suits and sunglasses just walked in.”

 

“Relax, guys in suits eat here all the time.”

 

“Not with security details. Let’s head out the back. Slowly, they haven’t made us yet.”

 

I thought Emmit might be schizophrenic, but when we got out to the alley, two guys were waiting with guns. Now, I would love to give you a play-by-play of what happened next, but it happened too fast. Somehow, Emmit managed to disarm and knock unconscious two men in a matter of seconds. He took their guns, putting one in his waistband.

 

“Can I have a gun?”

 

“No,” he chuckled.

 

We ran to the news building. When we got there, we were spotted by more guys in black suits and their security details. We took off in the other direction with them on our heels. I pulled out my cell and made a phone call.

 

“Susan, I need you to get those old duffle bags out of storage and five other people. Here is what I need you to do.”

 

Emmit and I took the long way to The Lincoln Memorial. There, we ran into six people with bags similar to the one Emmit was carrying. We all bumped and shoved, switching bags several times. When we were done mixing up the bags, some took cabs, some ran, some strolled. They grabbed Marcus and checked his bag, only to find gym clothes and a phone book. Later that night, Emmit and I met with Susan to retrieve the real bag. She asked what was going on, but all I could tell her was to read the morning’s paper.

 

Emmit was able to sneak me pass some of the men in black suits and their muscle so I could write up the story. I wrote frantically, the words flowing from my mind straight to the screen. I barely got it through pre-press in time to make the front page. I rushed it out to the printers myself. They were in the middle of putting on the plates that were supposed to run and were not thrilled about the last-minute change, but now people know where they came from and can prepare for the future.

Australia Forces China To Dump Rare Earth Assets, But No Refund For US Submarine Deal?

32 New Ukraine Soldiers Cross Hungary Border to Escape War Mobilization

32 New Ukraine Soldiers Cross Hungary Border to Escape War Mobilization

Yesterday, a Ukrainian GAZ-66 truck with “military” license plates illegally crossed the border into Hungary from the Zakarpattia region of Ukraine. Local border guards found the truck and detained 32 Ukrainian citizens.

It turned out, the truck was filled with new Ukraine Army “Recruits” – men who had been forcibly grabbed off streets in Ukraine, held for three days, given uniforms, and sent to the front lines to die.

The men took a military truck across a field in Zakarpattia, entered Hungary, and surrendered to Police in Hungary.

The government of Hungary has granted the men asylum.

Hal Turner Opinion

The slave state of Ukraine is the very worst place in the world with absolutely no human rights at all.

These people are being hunted by army slave catchers and sent to the front to be exterminated.

The average Ukrainian’s worst enemy is the war criminals in Kiev and the war criminals of NATO who fund and facilitate their slavery and extermination while pretending that Ukraine is a free democracy,  and not the only cause of the conflict that is going on.

Imagine what the U.S. will be like when Biden orders the draft for WW3 against Russia/China. There will be some crazy things going on; can’t wait for the chaos.

Someone should make an “Escape from Ukraine” movie as a sequel to Escape from L.A. from the ’90s. I’d watch it.

It’s Official: Russia ready to strike NATO airfields hosting Ukrainian jets

It's Official: Russia ready to strike NATO airfields hosting Ukrainian jets

andrei kartapolov large
andrei kartapolov large

F-16 fighter jets and any airfields they are based at will be legitimate targets for the Russian military if they participate in combat missions against Moscow’s forces, the chairman of the Russian State Duma Defense Committee, Andrey Kartapolov, has warned.

The comments come as Kiev prepares to receive the first delivery of US-made fighter jets from its Western backers, after Ukrainian pilots were trained to fly them.

In a statement to RIA Novosti published on Monday, Kartapolov clarified that if the F-16s “are not used for their intended purpose” or are simply held in storage at foreign airbases with the intent to transfer them to Ukraine, where they will be equipped, maintained, and flown from Ukrainian airfields, then Russia would have no claims against its “former partners” and would not target them.

However, if the jets take off from foreign bases and carry out sorties and strikes against Russian forces, both the fighter planes and the airfields they are stationed at will be “legitimate targets,” according to Kartapolov.

“As for [our ability] to shoot [them] down, we can shoot down anyone, anywhere,” the MP insisted.

Kartapolov’s statement comes after the chief of aviation of Ukraine’s Air Force Command, Sergey Golubtsov, stated in an interview with Radio Liberty on Sunday that some of the F-16 fighter jets donated to Kiev by the West would be stationed at foreign airbases.

He explained that only a portion of the jets would be stationed directly on Ukrainian territory, corresponding to the number of pilots trained to operate the aircraft. The other jets would be kept in reserve at “safe airbases” abroad so that they are not targeted by the Russian military.

Golubtsov stated that so far four countries have agreed to transfer F-16s to Ukraine, namely Belgium, Denmark, Norway, and the Netherlands. While he did not specify exactly how many aircraft would be donated, he claimed it was between 30 and 40 planes, with potentially more to come in the future.

Meanwhile, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov has also warned that Moscow would perceive the deliveries of F-16 fighters to Ukraine as a nuclear threat, given that the jets have long been used as part of the US-led bloc’s joint nuclear missions. 

At the same time, the minister stressed that the US-designed jets would not change the situation on the battlefield, and would be shot down and destroyed like any other foreign weapons supplied to Ukraine.

Crispy Sweet Onion Pizza

Caramelized Onion Pizza 3435
Caramelized Onion Pizza 3435

Ingredients

  • 1 (12 inch) pre-baked pizza shell
  • 2 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 pound sweet onions halved, sliced vertically
  • 1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes (packed in oil), chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

Ingredients for Caramelized Onion Pizza

  • Pizza Dough – Use your favorite pizza dough here. I always love the chewy / airy texture of this No-Knead Pizza Dough.
  • Extra Virgin Olive Oil – Instead of sauce, this pizza is brushed with a generous amount of extra virgin olive oil before the toppings are added. The oil helps the crust to get a deep golden brown color and adds a subtle, fresh olive flavor. 
  • Caramelized Onions – See below for all the details on making caramelized onions. They are sweet and savory and make a super flavorful base for this pizza.
  • Gruyere Cheese – The first time I had Gruyere cheese I was blown away by the rich, deep flavor of this Swiss-style cheese. It’s slightly crumbly and has a nutty, tangy flavor. It costs a bit more than mozzarella (which is more common on pizza), but seriously delivers on flavor.
  • Fresh Rosemary – The savory flavor of fresh rosemary fits really well here. Be sure to remove the leaves from the stem and discard the stem (it’s too tough to chop along with the leaves). You can skip the rosemary or use another fresh herb – fresh thyme is great here.

Caramelized Onion Pizza 3435 2
Caramelized Onion Pizza 3435 2

How to Caramelize Onions

  1. Slice the onions into slices that are about 1/3” thick. (No need to be super precise here, but if the slices are too thin they won’t develop all the flavor that comes with the low, slow cooking process. If they are too thick, they’ll take forever to cook. Try to strike a balance.)
  2. Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. Add olive oil and butter (use about 1 tablespoon of each per pound of onions).
  3. Add the onions to the skillet and cook, stirring constantly, until the onions start to soften, about 5 minutes.
  4. Reduce the heat to low.
  5. Season onions with salt and some sugar (about ½ teaspoon of each per pound of onions). (Note: Sugar is optional here, but can help to draw out the natural sugars in the onions and speed the caramelization process along.)
  6. Continue to cook the onions, stirring occasionally, until they are very tender and deep golden brown, 25 to 40 minutes more. (Important: If the pan starts to look dry or the onions start to burn, add a splash of water. You may need to do this several times throughout the cooking process.)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
  2. Place pizza shell on baking sheet.
  3. Sprinkle onions on pizza and drizzle with olive oil; top with sun-dried tomatoes.
  4. Sprinkle with herbs, salt and pepper.
  5. Bake until onions just begin to brown, about 10 minutes.

Russia already has enough “hyenas” to deal with in Europe, Vladimir Putin has told his Zimbabwean counterpart

Russian President Vladimir Putin and his Zimbabwean counterpart Emerson Mnangagwa shared a laugh during a tense debate on nuclear diplomacy on Friday, as they discussed how to deal with the real and metaphorical “hyenas” threatening their countries.

During a plenary session of the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF), political scientist Sergey Karaganov urged Putin to update Russia’s nuclear doctrine to allow nuclear retaliation against countries that strike Russia with conventional weapons.

With multiple Western nations – including the US, France, and Germany – recently giving Kiev permission to use their missiles in long-range strikes on Russian territory, Karaganov argued that these countries have grown complacent and need to be reminded of Russia’s nuclear capabilities.

“They have gone mad, especially the Europeans,” he told Putin. “It’s how animals behave. If there is a herd of hyenas or wild dogs and you’ve got a stick, you can keep them at bay. But there’s a high chance that they will tear your clothes, and if you get tired they will bite you to death. If you can kill a couple of them then they will disperse.”

“President Mnangagwa knows about the behaviour of hyenas,” Karaganov continued, before asking the Zimbabwean leader: “Do you agree Mr. President, that this is how you deal with hyenas?”

“We do have lots of hyenas in Zimbabwe, but we keep them in the national parks,” Mnangagwa replied. “We have no problems with them, but they breed a lot, and if there is anybody who wants them, we are ready to donate,” he added, to laughter from the audience.

“Well we’ve got hyenas of our own in Europe,” Putin responded.

Russian nuclear doctrine has not changed since 2010. It allows for the use of atomic weapons in the event of a nuclear first strike on its territory or infrastructure, or if the existence of the Russian state is threatened by either nuclear or conventional weapons.

“I do not believe that it is the case now,” Putin said, adding that Russia “needs no nuclear weapons to achieve victory” in Ukraine. However, Putin noted that changes to Russia’s nuclear doctrine “are not ruled out.”

18 Years Later, I Finally Get how Idiocracy Came True – The 2024 Election

Life changes

I once invited one of my work colleague to my house for dinner along with her family. We had just started off with our friendship at work and I was inviting her for the first time. Her mother lived with her and I invited her as well. And me and my husband spent a lot of time cooking for them and the preparations.

They came on time, she was accompanied by her husband, mother and also her 1 year old kid. Within 10 minutes of coming in to my house, the kid was with her husband and my husband is talking to her husband.

She and her mother just get up and start going through all the stuff in my house. First they went to the kitchen, start opening my drawers there and going through all my things. Then my fridge and she goes “wow, you cooked so much food for us”.

Then they walk straight into my bedroom, she and her mother literally start opening my cupboards and drawers and start going through my personal things. I just stand, not saying a word, very awkward. Wondering what’s happening. She goes through my clothing, my husband’s and all our personal things.

Her mother on the other side, going through my jewelry. And asking me where I brought it from and how much it costs !

Then after 30 minutes they both walked out to the living room, and go “thanks for inviting us, we are leaving now”. I go “please have the food, it’s late and we prepared it specially for you guys”.

She “No, I forgot to tell you but I have to go to another friend’s house and it’s getting late. We will have dinner some other time. Thanks for inviting us though”.

We didn’t say anything, and they left. There was lot of food now, which thankfully we had some lovely neighbors we could share with.

And later I noticed one of my bracelets missing, noticed it after days but didn’t think much of it.

Months later, I saw her wearing the same missing bracelet to the office.

The war in Ukraine is getting worse, the Genozide in Gaza is still in full swing, and the Neocons are dreaming of even more war. Luckily, outside the West nobody is taking the narratives coming from Washington, Brussels and Berlin serious anymore. Yet, the world has never been in worse danger from nuclear annihilation and threatened by a 3ed World War than now. How can we explain so much blind hubris and suicidal stupidity?

We last talked in August, 2023, it’s now June 2024, and it seems to me that things have only gotten worse for Ukraine, worse for the NATO countries, we are at the brink of further escalation with Russia, with official OKs to use NATO weapons against the Russia proper and maybe even NATO boots on the ground, and there is still no willingness in the west to pick up the Russians on their various signals that they would want to negotiate based on what has been reached in Istanbul which Putin recently again said can be—together with the realities on the battlefield—the basis for serious negotiation. Do you agree with my assessment or how do you view what happened in the past months?

Big girls can’t squeeze into small dresses

Between jobs, I agreed to provide daycare for a 3-year-old girl.

The kid was impossible. The mother was worse.

Mom had ridiculous rules: all food was to be organic, no sugar, and no additives, ever. Do not bring food into the house. Do not watch Spongebob (there was a list of “approved” cartoons; I was not to deviate from it).

The only food in the house was organic whole-wheat pasta with organic grated cheese. The little girl could only drink spring water. That was the only food in the house. Every lunch I fixed was the same: organic pasta and cheese with water.

The kid had serious disciplinary problems. If something didn’t go her way (she’d fail to catch a playground ball) she’d shriek, scream, and run away. Apparently this worked with Mom, but not me.

Mom came home one day in the midst of one of Terror Tot’s fits. The kid immediately started hitting her in the gut, left, then right, repeatedly. Mom said, “oh, stop that.” Of course the kid didn’t stop. Mom looked at me and said “I know, I’m terrible. I should really not let her do that.”

YA THINK??

Another day, Terror Tot grabbed me hard in the stomach. She grabbed as much spare flesh as she could, and started screaming “Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat!” (I am not fat, and it really hurt.)

Horrified, I told her never to do that to me or anyone else. Of course, she shrieked and ran to her bedroom sobbing. I left her there; too bad. A crying fit could be ignored until she was ready to listen to me. What I was disturbed about was where she learned that. None of her “approved programming” dealt with fat as an issue.

“Fat” seemed to be the order of the day. When Mom came home, Tot grabbed the fat around her middle and started screaming “fat-fat-fat-fat… mommy’s fat, fat, fat!” Mom ignored this, and started writing out my paycheck, while she informed me of what hours I would be needed the next week. Meanwhile, the kid stopped pinching Mom and started hitting again, still yelling “fat-fat-fat!” Mom and I had to raise our voices to understand each other.

I really did not want to babysit anymore, but I felt bad for the little girl.

The next day I was needed to sit, I was instructed to go to the Mom’s mother’s house. Grandma greeted me, and asked to watch her other grandchild (by another kid) who was 4. She and her daughter left on an errand.

As soon as the Mom and Grandma left, the kids started to fight with each other. I managed to distract them. This went on for a few hours; fight, distract with a story. Fight, distract with a game.

The Two Terrors decided to find a new game: Beat Up Babysitter. One slugged me in the gut and ran, then the other would hit me and run. After 2 rounds of this, I caught the boy by the arm as he raised it to hit me again. I yelled for the girl.

“Look, you two are never allowed to hit me, or anyone else. Do you understand?” I admit I raised my voice. Apparently no one had ever raised their voice to either of them.

Well, you would have thought I just beat them. They both threw themselves on the floor, screaming. The boy took his clothes off. The girl knocked over a vase. Again, as any parent should, I ignored them. I was not buying into a show of hysterics. I said, “let me know when you are done and can play nicely.” More screaming and thrashing. The girl went a step further and knocked over a sculpture of a horse; surely that would get my goat. Nope.

Mom and Grandma walked in at that moment and were furious with me. What had I done, and why could I not control these kids? Why was the precious vase and sculpture on the floor? And “where are (the boy’s) clothes?”

I explained to the women that both kids hit each other, then hit me, and I told them to stop. I also said I refused to be hit, and if they did it again, I’d correct them verbally again. I explained that physical violence crossed a line with me; it was non-negotiable. I was aghast that I had to say this.

That was the last time I was ever asked to babysit. I was thrilled.

AFTER FILES! The Giants of Malta

It’s unlikely. The Indian government seem to be self aware.

It would be like Mexico agreeing to attack the US. Mexico would be destroyed. Same for India, India would be destroyed.

China won’t attack the civilian population centers but power, water, and fuel would be wiped out. The Indians would need to have animals to move food and people. And learn to live with no power so water would have to be carried into cities.

The Indian government wants benefits from the US to appear aggressive, they don’t want to kill their country.

Also since India attacked China, China is well within rights to self-defense. And that would include turning the northern half of India into a buffer zone. I’m certain the Indians don’t want that and the Chinese would prefer not to do that unless attacked.

With the example of Ukraine and the West out of munitions, the Indian government isn’t dumb enough to ukraine themselves for the US.

Pepper Steak

Pepper Steak
Pepper Steak

Ingredients

  • 1 (1/2 inch thick) round steak, cut into 1 inch strips
  • 1 cup onion, chopped
  • 2 cups green bell pepper, chopped
  • 2 ribs celery, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons cornstarch
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon beef bouillon

Instructions

  1. Brown meat in oil until brown.
  2. Put meat into slow cooker.
  3. Add remaining ingredients and stir.
  4. Cook overnight or for 8 hours on LOW.
  5. Serve over rice.

This was told at a meeting of comedy writers at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club.

A rabbi goes to a very successful business named Lawrence. He says to him, “Lawrence, your family has been very generous to the synagogue. Your grandfather, who came to this country with nothing and build a prosperous business, came us the donation that made possible our wonderful library. When your father, who continued making the business grow, was asked, he gave the funds for the books for that library. Now Lawrence, the time has come for me to ask you to please continue to follow your family’s generous tradition and to please consider making a donation.”

Lawrence thinks for a moment and then says, “Rabbi, just this week I learned that my son has gotten into Princeton. It will cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to send him there. My wife of 30 years has been diagnosed with cancer. The treatments will be likewise very expensive. My father who, thank God, is still with us, suffers from dementia and requires constant care.”

He then draws a breath and says, “So, Rabbi, if I can say no to all of them…”

The Job Market isn’t Looking too Hot ……. Part 4

How poverty affected my education?

If I look back, I was above average in my class. But all that work for food, bad neighborhood, and lack of resources (time, stationery, school uniform etc.) affected my education badly. Also, my self confidence was very low.

So what happened? By the time I came in 10th Standard, my education was messed up. I got 46% marks in 10th exams. I cleared 11th standard with grace marks and finally…I failed 12th standard.

But, my failure was actually a gift. My friend-circle was gone, everything was meaningless to me. I had that talk with myself that made me realize that nothing matters except a good education.

One of my uncle guided me in this tough time. He asked me to carry my 11th standard Physics, Chemistry, Maths books and go to a nearby Ashram  everyday in the morning. I used to study there, eat free food, and come back in the evening. I followed that routine during my summer vacations and built my fundamentals. I realized that education is the only way out of my pathetic life. I used to recall Booker T. Washington’s essay, The Struggle for an Education  from my 10th English syllabus. It was a real inspiration.

Next year, with same level of dedication, I cleared 12th with flying colours with distinction in Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics. Also, I appeared for Chaudhary Charan Singh University engineering exam and secured 3rd rank. That gave me enough confidence to try something bigger.

Next one year I did nothing but prepared for biggest engineering entrance exam, Indian Institute of Technology, Joint Entrance Examination  and cleared it. I spent next five years studying Computer Science & Engineering at Indian Institute of  technology (BHU) . Life was all set.


How poverty changed me as a person.

It made me rock solid. When usually people are scared about something, I drink some tea and carry on. Unless its about someone’s life, I keep my cool.

Also, I have immense respect for hard working people. While so many people around me feel ashamed to talk to Rickshaw

pullers, it gives me immense pleasure to talk to them. I speak politely with Rickshaw pullers, farmers, waiters and all those people trying to earn a living in tough economy.

It also made me realize the value of food. Usually this is how my plate looks like once I am done eating (even if food is not so tasty).

I never smoke. Sometimes I will drink a beer with my friends, but no hard liquor. Possibly because partially I hold my father and his drinking habits responsible for my bad childhood,

As far as money is concerned, being an ex-Oracle and current VMware employee, I earn well. Still, I don’t waste money. I consider buying costly gadgets, drinking a lot, and doing something useless to impress your “friends” as a waste of money.

That doesn’t mean I am a miser. For me, only few things are worth my hard earned money. I am living at a great place paying more than average rent for this apartment, because its so beautiful and peaceful.

I am also a proud owner of a Royal Enfield Thunderbird.

All in all, poverty made me the person I am today. It was one hell of a journey. And it’s still going on. It’s just not that challenging any more 😀

Life is good.

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By Pep.e Escoba.r

The warning by President Putin could not be starker: “In the event of the use of long-range weapons, the Russian Armed Forces will again have to make decisions about expanding the sanitary zone further (…) Do they want global conflict? It seemed they wanted to negotiate [with us], but we don’t see much desire to do this.”

Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov then came up with the appropriate metaphor to designate NATO’s ramped-up military outbursts: not only NATO is raising the degree of escalation but delving into a warlike “ecstasy”.

It does not get more serious than that. “They”, as Putin alluded to, do seem to want “global conflict”. That’s at the heart of NATO’s new suicidal “ecstasy” strategy.

For all their circumlocutions, NATO Secretary Jens Stoltenberg

, French President Emmanuel Macron, and German Chancellor Olaf Scholz have effectively greenlighted Kiev using Western weapons for attacks deep inside the Russian Federation. The alleged debate, still ongoing, is just a “smokescreen” for the real objective: a pretext that could lead to WWIII.

There’s no reason to think Kiev will stick to “limited” strikes against relatively unimportant targets. Instead, it is likely to target critical security infrastructure in hopes of provoking an unrelenting Russian response, which in turn would pave the way for NATO to invoke Article 5 and de facto engage in a Hot War.

Already on the Edge of Doom

The escalation “ecstasy” defined by Peskov went out of control since a – secret – new batch of ATACMS was dispatched to Kiev earlier this year, complemented with longer-range ATACMS. Kiev has been using them for serious hits on Russian air bases and key air defense nodes. These ATACMS fire missiles at Mach 3 speed: a serious challenge even for the best Russian air defense systems.

All that seems to point to a crucial decision enveloped in several layers of fog: as the incoming, cosmic NATO humiliation in the black soil of Novorossiya becomes self-evident day after day, the Western elites who really run the show are betting on provoking a full Hot War against Russia.

Richard H. Black, a former US senator from Virginia, offers a sobering analysis

:

“This is a continuation of the pattern in which the NATO forces recognize they are losing the war in Ukraine, with the fragile lines of defense breaking, and the NATO response is to escalate. This is not accidental, but very deliberate. It is not the first attack on the Russian nuclear triad. The ideological folks are seeing their world crumbling, after flying the rainbow flag over conservative countries and [waging] perpetual wars. They are frantic and could escalate to nuclear war to get out of the bind. They are taking a series of baby steps, and respond that ‘they don’t do anything in response,’ and so they keep taking baby steps until one of them lands on a land mine and we are into World War III. (…) Putin is very aware of the disconnect in the West, who keep saying he is just saber rattling, but he is not—he is informing the West of the dangerous reality.”

In Russia, Senator Dmitry Rogozin, a former head of Roscosmos, directly warned Washington: “We are not just on the threshold, but already on the edge, beyond which, if the enemy is not stopped in such actions, an irreversible collapse of the strategic security of the nuclear powers will begin.”

General Evgeny Buzhinky advanced an ominous scenario: “I am sure that if the strikes of Taurus of ATACMS are very harmful for Russia, then I presume we will at least strike the logistical hub in the territory of Poland in Rzeszów” where the missiles are staged for delivery to Ukraine.

The connection in this case would be irreversible: Russia hits Poland; NATO invokes Article 5; WW3.

Be Careful What You Wish For

NATO warlike “ecstasy” is predictably cloaked in cowardice. For all the rhetorical garbage 24/7 about “we don’t want a war with Russia”, the facts point to NATO using Kiev to attack and try to destroy a wide range of Russian military assets. There’s also no denying the US Deep State’s role in enabling Kiev’s terror attacks against Russian civilians in the Donbass, Belgorod, and elsewhere.

Considering the serious debate finally on across several Russian platforms, all of that might constitute a reasonable pretext for a tactical nuclear drop on the – legally illegitimate – Kiev gang. At least that would finish a war that is dragging for too long.

Yet that would be totally out of character when it comes to legalistic Putin – who deals with Armageddon-laden issues with the patience of a Taoist monk. Yet Russia has an entire arsenal of asymmetric tools – both conventional and nuclear — that can deliver a painful blow to NATO

in places where the alliance least expects.

We’re not there yet – even as we get ominously closer day after day. Dmitri Medvedev has issued the umpteenth red line: a US strike on Russian targets, or the US letting Kiev hit targets within Russia using American missiles and drones would be the ‘start of World War’.

And Foreign Minister Lavrov, once again displaying his trademark Taoist patience, had to come up with another serious reminder: Russia will regard the deployment of nuclear-capable F-16s in Ukraine – which de facto can only be operated by NATO pilots – as “a deliberate signal from NATO in the nuclear field to Russia”.

And still the gaggle of armchair Dr. Strangeloves – lavishly rewarded by the rarified Atlanticist plutocracy holding real power, funds, influence and mass media control – is not listening.

One surprising fact about jury duty is that in the United States, you can’t be forced to serve on a jury more than once every 18 months, which is why simply stating you’ve served recently can be a surefire way to get excused.

This is because courts are required to ensure that jurors are randomly selected and that no one is called to serve too frequently.

Another lesser-known fact is that courts often use a system called “jury wheel” to select potential jurors, where names are randomly drawn from a pool of eligible citizens.

You’d be surprised to know that this pool can include lists of registered voters, driver’s license holders, and even utility customers.

So, if you’ve ever wondered how you got picked for jury duty, blame the algorithm.

It’s also fascinating to learn that in some jurisdictions, jurors are prohibited from researching the case or discussing it with anyone, including family members, during the trial.

This is intended to prevent external influences from swaying their verdict, ensuring a fair and impartial decision.

While it might be tempting to sneak a peek at news coverage or ask a lawyer friend for insight, doing so could result in a mistrial or even legal consequences.

Did you know that in the United States, jurors are not required to disclose their race, ethnicity, or socioeconomic status during voir dire, the questioning process used to select jurors?

This lack of transparency can lead to biased jury selection, as lawyers may unintentionally discriminate based on observable characteristics.

With growing concerns about systemic racism and discrimination in the justice system, this aspect of jury selection is under increasing scrutiny.

American Reacts to Why Europeans Hate Living In The United States.

So, to sum it up... You pay crazy amounts of money for an education, that (hopefully) gets you a job. The public transportation is so bad its hard and cumbersome to get to it. When you get there, you have to work long hours risking getting fired at any time. When you get paid the IRS is making it difficult for you to pay your taxes. The lack of sufficient vacation time makes it hard to recharge and your level of stress never gets normalized. The long hours at work inhibits you from cooking good healthy food, so you eat fast food and processed prefab food. When you watch tv you are so tired that you cant see beyond the propaganda and think for your self. As you dont really have vacation, you cant travel and experience the world. Eventually you get sick, and then you have to pay crazy amounts of money to get care. At some point you just cant work anymore and thinks about retirement, and realize you cant afford to retire. Sounds appealing right?

A:

My wife and I were friends with a couple for 2–3 years, and hung out at least once per month with them. We all worked together and had tons of mutual friends…

We threw a smallish house party for around 20–30 people when we moved into our new home. We’d already had a housewarming party… this one was specifically our direct peers (25–35 at that time), and was adults only. We informed everyone invited that no kids were allowed (included our own children that were staying with their grandparents for the night).

One couple specifically asked if they could bring their kids, and we told them no… Regardless, on the night of the party, they showed up late, 2 kids in tow. Instead of being rude, I brought their boys upstairs to our game room, and setup both Xbox and PS4 for them (which were fairly new consoles at the time). Almost immediately, the older boy told me that the selection of games “sucked”, and “what else do you have?”. I was able to set them up with a couple of games that they were happy with, and went back downstairs to enjoy the party.

Around an hour later, we all heard a crazy pounding noise coming from the game room, and I went running upstairs to investigate. The child’s father barely beat me up the stairs and checked out the situation. Everything was fine; the son had accidentally locked himself in the room, and started to freaked out. Standing behind the father, I could see almost the entire room, and could see that situation was under control; it was just a temporary freak out. So, we all went back to the party, and everyone had a good evening.

The next day, after our kids came back home, they almost immediately discovered a large hole in the game room door. It turns out that the older boy had accidentally locked himself in the game room, and couldn’t figure out why it wouldn’t open, so he literally kicked a massive hole through the the backside of the door. Now these are the standard, cheapo doors that come with most middle-income homes, but still… he kicked through one side of the door.

Here’s the kicker – when I standing behind my friend as he was checking on them, I saw him look at the back of the door. He knew there was a huge chunk missing, but chose not to say nothing…

Those types of cheap doors are usually less than $200 at Home Depot, fully prepped, and can be installed by nearly any idiot (such as myself)… Why say nothing? These were not people that were incapable of offering to and/or paying for a $200 fix that was required because their son caused unnecessary damage to our home… and the children were not supposed to be there in the first place.

This person made a choice to ignore something like this, and it made me realize what type of person he was… After that, we’ve never hung out again.

Paradise Lost

Submitted into Contest #248 in response to: Write a story titled ‘Paradise Lost’..

This is a new addition that I am considering to my daily posts. Here I include some contemporaneous SF (short story) for the reader to enjoy. -MM

Calls for help came every day, in every language spoken from Alpha Centauri to Xanoid 10.

 

Meteor. Famine. War!!!

 

Help us, they pleaded. Whoever they was in that particular society that had figured out how to contact us.

 

“Please remain calm,” I used to say. “A unit will be dispatched to your location.”

 

But after our people went Silent, the calls went more like this:

 

“Hello? We need help.”

 

“We’re sorry, but Planetary Assistance is no longer available. Our thoughts are with you during your pending apocalypse. Goodbye.”

 

“Wait —”

 

And I would hang up and log the call for our directors, who would mark the planet for further study before its demise. No tears — just another experiment ending.

 

Of course, Earth was different. It had been a special project for our people. A hunk of spasmodic rock that we imbued with the best of all things green and growing, soft breezes, clear, cold sea, and people — people who looked perhaps too much like us, in hindsight.

 

Of course, we were sensitive when they called.

 

Help, they called when they were cold, and we brought them fire.

 

Help, they called when they were hungry, and we taught them our very own methods of tilling the soil.

 

When they ventured out of their cradle to the hostile parts of the Earth, we ushered in ages of warmth and good fortune that propelled them to prosperity.

 

But help, they called, because they wanted more. And like permissive, enamored parents, we continued to give it to them until they wielded the means of their own destruction.

 

The phone rang one night on my watch long after the Silencing. I checked the caller ID twice. Earth. A little tingle of electricity ran up my spine.

 

“You’ve reached Thalia IX — how may I direct you?”

 

“Hello? Hello? If anyone out there is listening, please, I need your help. Things are really getting out of hand here —”

 

An understatement if I’d ever heard one given the mass extinction underway on Earth amid the megacolossal storms and nuclear annihilation on a hair trigger.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat to prepare for the sentence that usually got stuck like dry wafer crumbs. “But the Planetary Assistance Corps of Thalia IX is no longer available for rescue requests. Our thoughts are with you during your apocalypse. Goodbye.”

 

The girl made an indignant sound of surprise as I hung up.

 

It was the ninth call from Earth this week, I found in the log as I began to add my notes. All previous agents had deftly dispatched the callers begging us to intervene, to send another ship, to save them.

 

Caller reports escalation on Earth, I began to type. It would be of interest to the directors.

 

Shrill bells jangled again. Earth again. I frowned as I picked up the line.

 

“You’ve reached Thalia –”

 

“You can’t hang up on me,” the girl’s voice said.

 

The script prepared us for this scenario, though it was rare. Usually, our callers were in such a state of shock to reach us that they didn’t try again.

 

“Thank you for your call. While we understand you might be experiencing feelings of worry, anxiety, or dismay —”

 

The girl groaned in aggravation.

 

“Would you can it? My girlfriend is missing. We were supposed to shelter together this week,” she said. “Please, can you help me find her? I’m worried that she’s lost or hurt.”

 

Shelter where? I wondered, and would have asked if the girl hadn’t kept talking at a rapid clip. This girlfriend had fled their home after an argument about letting others into their shelter. Days on, she hadn’t returned.

 

How human to want to face obliteration together, and to do it alone out of spite, I thought as she spoke.

 

Finally, the girl paused her monologue.

 

“Look, I know who you are,” she said in a low voice. “I know you’re not — from here. This planet, I mean. But I know you’re watching.”

 

This was highly unusual and would require immediate escalation to a senior agent. I thought I should keep her talking while I send a request.

 

“How did you find this line?”

 

“It was on my grandfather’s old Macbook. I live in his house now. He used to work for NASA. Had all kinds of notes with it —”

 

NASA was an ancient terrestrial space agency with whom we had coordinated many of our attempts at aid.

 

“What’s your location?”

 

“Reno. Well, northern America. On the West Coast. If that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“And your girlfriend’s name?”

 

She paused and her breath hitched, as if the answer would break a dam she’d built across her emotions.

 

“Angel.”

 

And then the nervous feeling I’d been fighting back twisted through my arms and into my fingertips that hovered over the keys.

 

I tapped a-n-g-e-l one letter at a time. That was the name the humans gave to us long ago. Before we abandoned them.

 

No, not abandoned. Even Silent, we had sent our best ship to evacuate a few hundred of them. It had nearly torn us apart.

 

“Oh, shit, hang on,” the girl said suddenly.

 

A door burst open behind her. She set her phone down so the sounds were muffled, but I could just make out voices calling out in panic. A sound like static overwhelmed the line and just as I looked down at the phone to check if we had disconnected, the door slammed, and the noise stopped. Frightened  voices died down into a murmur.

 

“Sorry. Newcomers,” she said as she picked up the phone again.

 

I noticed that my heart had started to race. The protocol called this a sign of emotional investment — understandable, but a sign to cut contact immediately. Only I had a message from the directors to stay on the line.

 

“We’re unable to offer any additional assistance in departing the planet or averting disaster,” I said with genuine regret.

 

But the girl just snorted.

 

“I figured it was a limited time offer,” she said. “But please, could you find Angel? Could you help me bring her home? She has red hair and she’s very tall. Her cheeks are always red like she’s been slapped across the face, even though she’s way more likely to have slapped someone else. She has these lovely big round brown eyes and she was wearing fatigues when she left. She was so angry. I should’ve stopped her.”

 

She keeps talking, telling me all about how they met as children fleeing great ravages of dust with their families, and how they found each other again as revolutionaries.

 

I thought I could perhaps grant this one selfless wish. It wouldn’t be intervening, not really, to find her partner’s location. It wouldn’t have changed anything about their fate. And I had a few moments before the directors would appear at my shoulder.

 

“Standby,” I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

 

And for the first time, but not the last, I defied Thalian protocol. I accessed our cameras and saw for myself how our great experiment on Earth was ending.

 

A few clicks and the distinct figure of a tall, redheaded woman in military garb appeared on screen. She was standing at attention before a gate, eyes locked ahead in terror as others streamed past her.

 

On our satellites, I saw the storm heading for the geographic coordinates of the caller.

 

The muffled static on the line grew louder.

 

“I can report that Angel is safe in a shelter in the next town over,” I said. And I covered the mouthpiece before I spoke again, so she would not hear the waver in my voice. Tears I couldn’t control dripped down my arm. “Unfortunately, it may not be possible for you to reach her.”

 

One last moment of silence from this loquacious caller. She must have been able to hear the howl of the wind, the creaking of the timber board. She must have known before she called.

 

“I understand,” she said.

 

The sharp steps of the directors began to rap through the hallway behind me. I had a vision of myself seizing control and forcing them to help. We could still help.

 

“Thank you,” the caller said. “Thank you for finding her.”

 

Our thoughts are with you. The shallow words flashed through my head one last time.

 

Instead, all I said after the line was already dead, was:

 

“Goodbye.”

People say we get paid poorly but really we don’t. We get housing, we get money for uniforms every year, we get healthcare, we get many benefits. If a military member is smart all they really have to pay is their cell phone and internet. When you get a family they even give you housing allowance and more money for food.

People complain because they don’t want to eat in the mess hall or live in the barracks but they really don’t have to worry about much.

we get tuition assistance and can go to school for free while in the military and when we get out can use up to 36 months of our GI bill to continue going to college.

Our family gets free healthcare and in some places discounted or free college.

So people that think we get paid poorly don’t add all the extra benefits to the “basic” pay the show out there. And of course when you come in your basic pay is like $2,000 if you are a brand new private with less than 2 years in, but with everything paid for, those are 2k in your pocket. When I got medically retired 8 years ago I was making $3500 a month with my housing paid and healthcare paid. Today that equals to 4k.

And when you are dual military like I was (married to another active duty service member) that was dual the income, so we were bringing 8k and housing paid and healthcare taken care of. Oh and we transferred one of our GI bills to our son so his college will be paid for.

So yeah, people think that because they never really stop to think about it. I joined because I wanted to serve the country but let’s face it, we get paid well. Could we get paid better? Sure, I mean we work crazy hrs and sometimes 36, 48hrs at a time, etc. and crazy jobs. But we are not poor.

Are We Being Lied To About North Korea?

Oh, I know that I’m going to need to compose myself to write this, trying desperately to keep emotions to a minimum. Let’s see how I do. I’m deleting the word “service” from the question.

On the first day of Spring a few years ago, I was working a BUSY, Sunday morning greeting, seating, and checking on my customers at my restaurant, a local family diner. A beautiful warm day, and busy is always a good thing. A bit of background here. I’m in an amazing small town on the central coast of California that is a tourist destination. My business runs around 85% local customers, and many tourists who find us want that hometown feel. We have a significant Hispanic population, and many of my staff are first generation U. S. citizens.

In the middle of a late breakfast rush, with 15 to 20 people waiting for a table, my sweet server comes to me and asks me to talk to an unhappy customer. She is a great server, and this was a first for her. I introduced myself to the table of 6 (2 families) that I had never seen before and asked how I could help. One of the TWO men seated was VERY ANGRY,although I could see that they had finished a hearty meal, his 13 year old daughter wanted more pancakes. I didn’t see the problem here, until he said, “ And she doesn’t want to wait for them!” The server had tried to explain to him, that it could take a bit because other orders were ahead of his. And the daughter is just smiling at me. All orders taken, go up in the same order, not one moved to the front just because. He kept yelling, “ But its for a child! How can you not want to feed a child? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?

I stepped back, told him to let me know if he decided to wait, and I would gladly put the order up, and I walked away. He followed me to the front of the house and screamed,” You’re a racist aren’t you? It’s because we’re Mexican! “ The whole restaurant got dead quiet, and another waiter, Hispanic broke out laughing and said, “Dude, are you kidding me? Look at our staff here, look in our kitchen! Are you crazy? “ I assured the man that I was in fact prejudiced! I believe everyone is in different ways. MY prejudice was against mean people and people who lie to me. I am not a tolerant person that way! I saw a few smiles of folks faces, and I wanted to give him an out so I told him if he changed his mind, and wanted me to put that order up, I’d be happy to. And here’s were I lost it. He screamed at Cesar, my busboy/host/all around helper, for being so stupid as to think I was a good person. I told him to please leave the building and never come back. I can take a punch, but don’t ever disrespect any of my staff. He got his family and huffed all the way out the door, and as he was pushing past people, the restaurant exploded with applause.

And it was my birthday.

Pizza Steak

header bg recipe pizzasteak
header bg recipe pizzasteak

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 4 rib eye steaks
  • 1 (6 ounce) can tomato paste
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 (28 ounce) jar Ragu
  • 1 green bell pepper, cut into strips
  • 1 large onion, cut into strips
  • 1 (8 ounce) package fresh mushrooms
  • 1 (8 ounce) package mozzarella cheese
  • Parmesan cheese, to taste
  • Whole black olives

Instructions

  1. Mix tomato sauce, tomato paste and Ragu well.
  2. Place the first steak in slow cooker for bottom layer and spoon just enough sauce over it to cover the meat.
  3. Add a portion of the onions, whole black olives, bell pepper, mozzarella, Parmesan and mushrooms.
  4. Layer again with second steak, sauce, cheeses and vegetables.
  5. Do the same with third and fourth steak, layering as you go along until all steak, sauce and vegetables are used.
  6. Cover with mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses.
  7. Cook on LOW for 8 hours.
  8. Serve over pasta. Angel hair pasta works nicely. Garnish with black olives.

Notes

Thicken sauce with Italian bread crumbs if needed.

Here in the Central Valley of California, it’s quite common for strangers to converse while waiting for an appointment. Mostly I let the other person indicate they want to talk, but on this occasion I decided to speak first.

A male customer, probably in his late forties, was sitting across from me as I also waited for service in a shop that repairs and replaces windshields. I noticed that after the man had been on his phone briefly he then sat quietly for a while, looking downcast. It may have been a nudge from the Holy Spirit, because I felt compelled to speak to him.

We were still in the midst of the on and off Covid lockdowns that were causing havoc in most people’s routines, so I made a comment about how we were probably having to wait so long because the business was short staffed (a common occurrence during Covid). Then I asked him how things were going for him during the Covid chaos.

He admitted things weren’t going well at all. In the course of our conversation I learned he was a building contractor who still had work. Jobs were difficult to complete, though, because it was hard to get materials owing to the lockdowns and other Covid problems. Worse still, his wife had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer (that’s who he was talking to on the phone) and he would be taking her to a doctor’s appointment later that day.

But…that also meant taking his mother along, who had dementia and lived with them and couldn’t be left alone in the house. The living arrangements had been fine before his wife got cancer and before the Covid mess disrupted his business and caused him to work ten hour days.

At this point he admitted he had to put his wife’s health before his mother’s, and he needed to find a memory care facility as soon as possible that could watch over his mother full time while he and his wife focused on her cancer recovery.

“I wish I knew someone who could help me sort this out,” he said.

“That’s me!” I exclaimed. “I have the phone number of the county coordinator who helps families find the best dementia caregivers in our area.”

That was because my father-in-law who had increasing memory loss had decided to move himself into assisted living near us a couple of years before, and I still had the contact information for the coordinator who found the perfect placement for him.

I gave this burdened man her number and he smiled and thanked me profusely. I could tell it was breaking his heart to make this decision regarding his mother, but he clearly was relieved to have access to resources that would lighten his load so he could walk alongside his wife as she battled breast cancer.

 

Pumping up the deep coolness of pleasure and relief

Practically it can’t; some people (e.g. businesses and researchers) need a VPN, otherwise they are unable to do their jobs in China, yet China needs businesses and researchers.

A blanket ban on VPNs — and by extension access to certain overseas websites — would be nonsensical.

There is also the cost-benefit analysis of going after VPN users. Even if it were logistically possible to do so, the state probably decided that VPNs can’t negate the firewall, because they are hard to get in mainland China and most people will never get VPNs, whereas the people who do have VPNs are likely to be educated, tech-savvy, and sophisticated enough to not do the thing that they are feared to do once they skirt the firewall; that is, turn anti-government.

Besides, letting some people skirt the firewall may be a plus for the state, because it can reduce the crave for outside information and by extension the outside world, which isn’t perfect. If your narrative as the Chinese government is that the grass is not greener outside of the firewall, preventing your citizens from ever having a taste of what it’s like outside of the firewall doesn’t really help you make that case. On the other hand, if you’re a Chinese netizen who skirts the firewall and ends up in Twitter or Reddit and nothing happens to you, you may realize that the government has a point. You may even want to skirt the firewall less!

So to China, the choice is clear: it can crack down on VPN use and risk wasting its own resources while pissing curious minds off, or it can simply keep the firewall around and let folks climb it if they want to, knowing that not everyone will, and those who do pose minimal threat to the state and won’t stay outside forever.

Sometimes, porous walls are better than rock solid ones.

What Putin and China just did to Israel is SHOCKING and the UK is Furious w/ Lowkey

You have to understand that isn’t possible.

It *is* possible that someone’s heart may cease to function, their brain may stop issuing commands, and tiny insects may begin to colonize the still warm meat, but inmates can’t die in prison.

You’re probably thinking that I suffer from some cognitive dissonance, or mild learning disability. But, as a matter of policy, inmates can’t die in prison. And, of course, if anybody has the superhuman ability to avert death, it would be the gargantuan bureaucracy of the almighty Bureau of Prisons.

Instead, here’s what will happen:

First, we’re going to finish count — while yelling at that one guy who just stubbornly refuses to stand as per policy.

“Goddammit Lazarus, don’t screw up my count!”

After the correct number of livestock is arrived at (and this may take several attempts because prison guards aren’t the shiniest keys on the ring), one of the guards will call for a couple medical trustees to come and fetch the dude whose temperature is rapidly dropping. Trustees are inmates from other areas of the prison who do the work that’s considered beneath the guards (i.e. “everything”). Because they are inmates, they are also subject to inventory wherever it is that they sleep, or happened to be at the time. That means that their unit also has to pass count before they can come and clean away the offending debris.

The horizontal inmate will be loaded on a gurney and taken to medical where an exhaustive battery of tests will be performed to ensure that he’s not faking anything. I have no idea what these tests are, but I suspect they’re things like fogging a mirror, and poking an eyeball with a needle.

You know, “medieval” in nature.

Ever wonder what happens to doctors who finish last in their class? Once the crack (pun unintended, but delightful anyway) medical staff is satisfied, the inmate will be handcuffed, shackled around the ankles, and loaded into an ambulance.

Outside the prison walls, he can be legally declared dead.

Requiescat In Pace.

Spanish Style Liver

Spanish Style Liver
Spanish Style Liver

Yield: 5 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds sliced beef or calves liver
  • 4 slices bacon, cut in half
  • 1/2 cup chopped carrot
  • 1/2 cup chopped celery
  • 1 small onion, sliced
  • 1 (1 pound) can stewed tomatoes
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 small bay leaf

Instructions

  1. Place liver in slow cooker. Arrange bacon on top.
  2. Mix remaining ingredients and pour over liver.
  3. Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 8 hours.
  4. Remove bay leaf.

Yes I am. I am a third generation Malaysian Chinese.
Truth to be told, I wasn’t that kind of Chinese kid who grew up with these Chinese pride.
It never crossed my mind until my growing interest in history lessons during my secondary school.

Chinese history was never the focus of our country’s education syllabus…
Instead, I grew up learning about Greco-Roman history, Renaissance, European history and Malaysia’s history.
So I was quite familiar with the West, but never China.
Out of pure curiosity, I embarked on a journey of reading.

I read about the China’s past, and consumed quite a lot of documentaries on Chinese history.
My interest grew further and I couldn’t stop reading.
I know I’m Chinese by blood, but never to the degree of finding a connection back to my own heritage.
The experience was quite bizzare.

Like reading histories that tells so much about you.
Your family surname, origins of your tribe, origin of why you do things the Chinese way.
You get a sense of connection to past histories, and it is still relevant to you.

China is so old, that they recorded so many of those things back then.
Then during my high school years, my interest in histories grew even further.
I was particularly fond of reading the reason behind fall of empires, like Roman empire, Ottoman empire, Mughal empire and etc….

You can’t stop but start asking yourself, where are those empire builders now?
They are all gone. Vanished into the dust of history.
But China is still there. We still call ourselves Chinese.
The realization of naming ourselves after a long dead empire is still very relevant to a Chinese conscious.

Just imagine if the people from the Gaul and Hispania still identify themselves as Roman.
They might acknowledge their Roman heritage, but in no mind those people would have identify themselves as a Roman. Rome was long dead, and every other nations formed their distinct identity, and there was no turning back.

Despite ups and down, China is still intact.

We still can read Classical Chinese.
We still worship our ancestor.
We still identify ourselves as Chinese.

It was weird, but fascinating.
If Europeans can understand the sentiment of Roman pride, then you should know what I meant.
Europeans tried to rebuild the second Rome, third Rome but all fall into the dust of history.
Like how Americans modelled their republic and metaphorically compare themselves to the greatness of Rome.

If you understand this sentiment, then you surely know why the Chinese are proud of.

But we didn’t have to mimic Rome.
We have our Rome to be proud of.
We pain stackingly preserved our identity through the age of time.
Except that, our Rome never fell.

Is Gen Z Killing Corporate Culture?

“Has a store ever accidentally given you something for free?”

Years ago, when we had small children so that I was a stay-at-home Mom and we lived precariously on my husband’s salary, we certainly had nothing spare for adult clothes. But I couldn’t actually go around naked or in rags, so eventually I found a pair of nice-looking corduroy pants in sage green on sale at Sears, which, when it still existed, sold unfashionable but serviceable clothes cheap, and mail-ordered them by phone; this was before there was online anything. When they arrived they were just as nice as they had looked in the catalog and they were the perfect size. But with them was another pair of the same pants in beige and a size larger. I had paid for one pair.

I phoned customer service and explained what had happened, asking when their delivery guy would next be in the area so that he could come by and pick up the extra pair. The woman I was talking to turned nasty at that point; she said, in an unpleasant tone of voice, that that would not be possible and I must take them to the store to return them. I told her that I had two small children and no car, and that the nearest Sears store was a long two-or-three-bus journey away in a suburb, which was why I was using the mail-order service on which Sears had built their reputation. She said that was not her problem. I asked what she suggested I should do, pointing out that I now had a pair of pants for which I had not paid, and she said “Keep them! I don’t care.”

So I did. The larger size wasn’t that much larger, and it was handy to have two pairs. When the kids were old enough I went back to work, and then we could all have new clothes when we needed them. As the kids grew out of theirs we donated perfectly good clothes, plenty of them, to charities. I reckon that counts as paying it forward.

Is Gen X The Worst Generation?

The U.S. dollar is now attracting stiff competition from the constantly evolving multipolar currency narrative. With the BRICS ditching the U.S. dollar officially, it seems that the new world order is emerging, where local currencies are now reigning supreme. Joining in the queue are the latest ASEAN members, the robust ten-country power pact, which may hamper some of the US dollar prospects if they decide to join forces with the leading world allies.

asean
asean

The murmurs of ASEAN dumping the U.S. dollar earlier caught pace in 2023 when the countries contemplated embracing local currency narratives to promote regional supremacy.

The ASEAN nations, which comprise Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam, had earlier conducted a meeting to end their reliance on the USD, Euro, Yen, and British Pound.

This was primarily done to catapult the progress of local currencies and help them ascend on the global currency radar. The members also shared comments on why the nations must end the use of USD for the long haul, citing U.S. sanctions as the key issue.

“Be very careful. We must remember the sanctions imposed by the US on Russia. Visa and Mastercard could be a problem,” Indonesian Prime Minister Widodo shared during the event.

With ballooning US debt metrics and a worsening economy on hand, the United States is now attracting issues that can hinder the progress of the USD in the long run. Decades ago, the dollar stood unhinged, but with the ASEAN and BRICS narratives gaining momentum, the USD may now encounter deep trouble hampering its global ascent.

10 U.S. Sectors To Be Affected if ASEAN Dumps the US Dollar

The top ten U.S. sectors that may feel the crushing pressure post-USD dump by ASEAN nations are:

  • Financial Services
  • Trade
  • Manufacturing
  • Tourism
  • Technology
  • Agriculture
  • Energy
  • Retail
  • Transportation
  • Real estate

The multipolar concept, a term coined to denote a basket of currencies leading the financial system, is very much underway in present times.

With robust economic competition prevalent in space, nations have now come up with new perspectives and offerings that can help them transact better by offering eccentric services and products in return.

This narrative threatens the global supremacy of the U.S. dollar to an extent, as countries now have alternative currencies to explore, thereby fueling the multipolar regime. The inflating US debt metrics, poor administrative infrastructure, and its capability to weaponize the dollar for geopolitical manipulation are now being debated openly. This is further downgrading the currency, compelling other regions like ASEAN to compete for global power and recognition.

“This dominance continues now, with the U.S. using its clout to drive socio-political goals by imposing sanctions. And by excluding non-compliant governments and organizations from the global trade and economic systems where the U.S. is dominant. The best example of this is the sanctions on Russia. And also certain Russian citizens due to their invasion of Ukraine. In the hope of influencing their ability to conduct the war,” as shared by Sable International

Shallow Women Are ABANDONING 10+ YEAR Marriages To Find Themselves On A Bunch Of C*cks

I had a great employee once who would wear a shirt that said “Genius by nature. Slacker by choice.” It really did suit him well. He was really quite smart and there wasn’t a job I could throw at him that he couldn’t handle with ease.

The problem always seemed to be motivating him to actually do the jobs I gave him.

I have also had an employee whose work ethic was astounding. He never complained about long hours or having too much on his plate.

The problem was that I had to double check all his work and often redo it myself.

Give me the lazy genius any day of the week.

When I hire someone to do a job, I fully expect that they will be able to do said job. If I wanted to do the job myself, I’d not hire anyone and just keep the money for me.

Once you learn what motivates someone, it’s not entirely difficult to just apply the right kind of pressure to get them to do their job. With my lazy genius, the problem with his motivation was that things couldn’t hold his interest if he found them dull and routine. My job was to make sure he was challenged enough to where he wanted to work. Sometimes that meant giving some easy stuff to the less experienced people and saving all the hard stuff for him. Often, though, it was just enough to challenge his ego. “Hey, Mike was looking at this issue and claims it’s unsolvable. Why don’t you give it a go?” In those cases, I likely had a good idea of how to solve the issue, but I needed him to do it. It would put him in the frame of mind to prove just how smart he actually was. Something he loooooved to do. Regardless, he’d get the job done and do it better than anyone else in the office.

The hard working guy, all I ever had to do was tell him I wanted a thing done. He never needed coaxing or a reminder of deadlines. He was great for the simple, mundane stuff, but if it was anything more complicated than resetting a password, he’d spend half his day trying to figure out the solution and still need help getting it right. I tried tutoring him, I tried getting him lessons on basic troubleshooting and infrastructure, but nothing seemed to stick.

No offense to anyone, but people who can handle basic tasks are extremely common. Someone who can take a real puzzler and solve it are far more rare.

No one wanted this ‘old’ shelter cat. I took her home

I found a little hard lump under my left ear. It was pandemic time and there were radio and TV ads telling people that they must see their doctor if they found a lump (otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone).

So, I rang for a phone appointment, expecting to be told it was a cyst or something. Nope. I was called straight down to the surgery (thank goodness I knew that particular GP very well and trusted him).

The next week or so was a bit of a blur: multiple biopsies and ultrasounds and what have you. Then a Covid test and an operation!! It was the unseemly haste that was most terrifying.

main qimg 7f39d9597c8244d919b78dfbaa705590
main qimg 7f39d9597c8244d919b78dfbaa705590

A bit gory isn’t it!! Bride of Frankenstein. Darned near cut my ear off!! But I’m ok now – except for some quite impressive scarring. That blue/green stripe under my ear that goes under my chin – that’s bleeding under the skin acting under the force of gravity, not just a grubby neck!

Update from today. Scarring isn’t too bad, really.

Clever people, those surgeons. Most of the scar that’s actually on my face is hidden in the creases around my ear. I am so grateful to the NHS!!

Oh, and that tube? That’s one of my hearing aids. Deaf as a bloody post, I am!! Xx

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Fringe Benefits by Rock Anthony cover illustration by Paul Rader
Fringe Benefits by Rock Anthony cover illustration by Paul Rader

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The problem isn’t carbs like rice or flour, the problem is added sugar.

One thing I noticed when I first came to the US is how sweet everything is. And this sentiment is shared by a lot of Chinese. When we first eat muffins, it is so sweet we nearly gagged.

A lot of processed food (even savory snacks) has a lot of sugar in it.

Not to mention soft drinks.

Another thing is for urban Americans, it’s much harder for them to get fresh produces compare to urban Chinese.

For example, I used to live in Beijing. And on my way home there are farmer’s market street stalls selling fresh produces.

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main qimg 696c943f210d0084ab5d4730a2695b83 lq

This kind of “farmer’s market” is integrated with pretty much all communities. People buy fresh produce on a daily basis and they cook fresh, mostly plant based food instead of relying on boxed meals or heavily processed foods like “hamburger helper”

After I come to the US, the only places I can purchase fresh produce are supermarkets and occasional “farmer’s markets” that only show up on Sundays in selected areas. Fresh produce is often more expensive than processed food.

Comparatively, the fresh produce in these street markets is pretty cheap. If you’re a poor person in China, you’ll most likely maintain a plant-based diet. If you’re a poor person in the US, you are limited to processed food and can food. All of them have added sugar.

For example, this is a regular bento box usually sold for low-income people like migrant workers. This one cost 10 RMB (about 1.75 USD)

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main qimg 91c2c18331e701a1a40fbbb548aad369 lq

Yeah, it doesn’t look good, but 1) they’re freshly made. 2) LOTS of vegetables. 3) looks pretty balanced with veggies and proteins.

So even if you’re poor, you don’t have a place to cook, and had to rely on cheap ready-made food, you still ended up eating pretty healthy.

China had seen a wave of childhood obesity back in the 80s and 90s when Coca-Cola and other western soft drinks and fast-food chains were first introduced to our market.

But Chinese diet somewhat reduced the effect of that, and the fast-food joints in China aren’t cheap. There are other cheaper, healthier street food options. And things started to get better once people (parents) started to realize how soft drinks and fast food is bad for their children.

So at the end of the day, it’s the added sugar and cheap processed food.


As mentioned in a comment, portion control also plays a huge part in the East Asian diet.

For example, this is the bento lunch box sold on Chinese railways

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main qimg 4c725cdb89d9a75a0dfcba80e7937b4c pjlq

You have a good portion of leafy greens, some protein, and rice (carbs). This is usually enough for an adult male, women and children often eat less.

This is an elementary school lunch:

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main qimg 101a8c97a02696f05e5a324015afb568 lq

Pretty healthy and balanced food with some multi-grain, fish protein, vegetables, and fruit.

When my Chinese friends and relatives came to the US, and we have lunch or dinner at an American restaurant, we often warn them about the portion size, ask them to look at other tables and see how big the plates are. Many would choose to share plates. Partly because Chinese are more used to family-style, partly because American restaurant’s portion is ridiculous.

And I think the family-style meals also help with portion control. With family-style, you’re free to eat until you’re full, instead of feeling obligated to finish the food on your plate. Sure, you can keep eating from the plate, but if you’re eating with a family, it’s kind of bad manners to hog on food. So there’s some peer pressure to not overindulge.

Long time ago, about 20 years. (Damn, I’m old)

I was at a mall with a friend (cis woman) and a child started screaming and calling out for her mom. I froze and looked around. Every man just looked, and about half of the women started towards the kid to comfort them.

My friend asked why I froze. I’m not usually an indecisive person.

I explained that I wasn’t indecisive at all. I made an instant decision not to approach the girl because I assessed the risk of being identified as a predator was too high to risk. I explained that every guy there did the same math in their head and came to the same conclusion.

In western culture, the only kind of touch allowed for men is sex or violence. Neither is appropriate in the vast majority of cases, especially with kids. We are so touch starved outside of those contexts that it perpetuates and reinforces until we can’t give or receive touch outside of them.

The culture we are in would rather see men die alone and miserable than recognize that sometimes we just need someone to be with us. It would rather see our partners with our shells than with the complete men that we should be able to grow into.

The only things we are interested in are not fight or fuck, and I’m really tired of the assumption that they are.

The Bookkeepers

Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Your protagonist is a voracious reader. Lately, they’ve been noticing odd synchronicities in the books he or she is reading. What does the protagonist discover is happening?

Today I am including a contemporaneous short science fiction story for your amusement. This is a new idea of mine. Please tell me if you like it or not. -MM

Lying down lazily on her green velvet sofa, Jane placed her tepid coffee on the enormous rug beside her and returned to her ebook. Wind chimes tinkled in her blissfully overgrown garden outside, the lightest misting of rain tickled the windows. For the last 20 years, Jane had planned her retirement to a tee. Some of her friends had planned round the world e-tours, others were e-touring planets Jane had never even heard of. Her plans were simpler. Late nights, late mornings, and books. The rest of her days would be the same, save some obligatory human interactions. Sleep, read, sleep, read. Heaven.

She hadn’t read Of Mice and Men since she was a young teenager and had amazed herself that she remembered so many of the passages, the words, and the feelings. Not just of the book but of the person she was back when she had first read it.

Like music, books could make her a time traveller. Returning her, for a split second, to the feeling of being that young lady. The smell of overly sweet body spray, the scratchiness of school tights, the inner tumult of hormonal upheaval, the bone-deep serenity of still having parents. As she remembered the words she read, she spent a millisecond back in her family home. When she tried to capture the moment, elongate it, prolong the beautiful, painful nostalgia of being who she was then, it would simply evaporate. But when she allowed herself to just read, just keep going, the flightiest of memories would embrace her entire body and ooze through her soul.

However, towards the end of the book, the time-travelling stopped. The passages became not quite unfamiliar, but more distant. As she rounded the ending, when George and Lennie laid the first stone for their new home on the land they had bought together, she remembered something more recent.

The week before, upon completing 1984, she couldn’t figure out what was out of place about Winston and Julia escaping the Big Brother society together and ending up rearing sheep on an Irish Island. The week before that, Romeo and Juliet uniting their families with news of their new baby. And the week before that, when Daisy Buchanan falls deeply in love with Jay Gatsby. She had read all these stories in her youth. Some more than once. But their endings somehow felt at odds with her memories of them. Their endings seemed to have been born anew. They were satisfying, for sure, and truly hopeful. But they were somehow empty, not just of her recollections, but of depth: of feeling.

She knew why, of course. The Bookkeepers. Decades ago, there was a threat of war, or at least very real terrorism, when the book burnings began. The emotion that was incited on both sides was incendiary and people got caught up in a moral and philosophical warfare.

For some, literature was what it was and there was undeniable value in its unedited storytelling: a time capsule of sorts, capturing not just the events of the days they explored, but the attitudes of society and indeed the writers. For others, the content and views were deeply troubling, offensive and unsettling: there was no place in our society for saddening and unenlightened opinions that could cause upset.

Jane had taken neither side all those decades ago, too busy with work to really engage, and quietly confident that the right decisions would be made on her behalf. The Bookkeepers, ultimately, made the decisions. But should she have paid more notice? By allowing the books of her youth to be remastered, had she lost not just the books themselves, but the entryway to the person she was when she first read them. And, more worryingly, was this whole retirement really just a plan to relive her life through the books she had once read? Because considering it had been years, decades even, since her life had allowed her to pick up a book, there possibly wasn’t much to relive.

Just as she started to piece these disconcerting thoughts together, her watch gently buzzed and spoke.

“You seem to be suffering with a little emotional turbulence,” the phantom therapist stated. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No. Not right now.”

“Sure. I’m here if you need me. Perhaps we could take a walk?”

“Actually, a walk would be good,” Jane replied with an idea fizzing in her brain. “Where’s the nearest library?”

“The nearest library is 3,757 miles away. The New York City Library,” the voice droned.

“Right. Well, where’s the nearest place to view real books?”

“The Literature Museum of Irving has a number of interesting displays that allow visitors to learn more about printed books. It is 4.27 miles away.”

“Perfect, set a course.”

 

It took Jane three and half hours to make the short journey. Her ageing body had no speed left in it, though her stamina remained unfailing. When she got to the small museum, located in a building that seemed to have been squeezed between two gyms, she was met by two armed guards.

“Just visiting,” Jane said giddily, her fear of authority sneaking up on her like a child.

They did not respond, noting her as unlikely to be a troublemaker. The interior of the building felt larger than it looked from the outside and the vast majority of it was dedicated to various revolutionaries who had fought, sometimes even literally, to have the classics preserved. She strolled past the memorials of these forward thinking people who had made it their life’s work to insure that politics didn’t destroy great works of literature that, though often deeply problematic, were hugely influential on the books and more importantly games, movies and e-experiences that people spend so much of their time enjoying these days.

A stern man with an eye patch stood behind a counter towards the end of the cavernous room, swiping his e-book disdainfully.

“Hi. Em, do you have any printed books?” Jane asked nervously.

“What are you looking for?” he grumbled, barely breaking his gaze from the screen.

“Of Mice and Men.”

The man pointed his dagger eye at her and raised an eyebrow.

“We have the ebook. Scan here. You don’t need to come in here for this, you know?”

“No, the actual book. I want to hold it.”

“No, there’s none left.”

“None? What do you mean?”

“There’s none left. A few in New York maybe. Or some collectors might have managed to hang on to them. But we don’t have any. Why do you want it anyway?” There was not an ounce of kindness at the beginning of his speech, and by the end he seemed to be seething for Jane’s very existence.

“Do you have a version of the original?”

“No.” The man started to peer nervously at the doorway.

“Where can I get a copy?” Jane asked, completely unaware of the inappropriateness of such a question.

“Are you here to cause trouble, is that it?”, the man said, his voice lowered to a growl. “Are you one of those protesters? Huh? Well even if we did have a file of the original, you can’t burn files, can you? And anyway, we don’t”.

“Protester? Burn? Oh god, no. Not at all. I didn’t get involved in any of that stuff. I didn’t even take sides. I thought each side had a reasonable enough point to be honest,” Jane blustered, her face flushing with shame. Her watch started to vibrate but she discreetly pushed it to shush.

“This is just a museum, okay? Whether you like it or not, those books existed and they don’t anymore. They were part of the world. An important part once. And you people got your way anyway, didn’t you? You’ve got your sanitised versions with no violence and la-di-da happy endings all round. You got your bloody AI generated revisions and ruined it for the rest of us,” he stammered, tears beading in his eye. Jane wondered if his watch was buzzing too.

“I’m so sorry. I think you misunderstood me. I’m sorry. I’ll just. I’ll go.”

 

And she left, fled even if her sluggish pace could be described as a flee. She hailed a carriage and was home in minutes, sweating and mortified. She held her hands to her mouth. Her watch was quaking on her behalf and she unmuted it to allow it to spill out its concern.

“Jane, you seem to be experiencing intense emotional disturbance. Perhaps a nap could help things,” it pleaded gently.

“No. I want another book. Wuthering Heights, I want to read Wuthering Heights.”

“Wonderful choice. Wuthering Heights is awaiting you on your ebook.”

“Tell me the plot.”

“Wuthering Heights is an evocative love story set on the Yorkshire Moors. It tells the story of Heathcliff and Catherine, who fall in love despite their social divides.”

“What happens in the end?”

“Heathcliff and Catherine shun societal norms and marry. Heathcliffe earns his fortune through clever investments and they grow old together in Wuthering Heights.”

“What’s the ending of the original?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“The original book. They don’t end up together in the original, do they?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

Jane couldn’t understand why her heart was racing, her palms clenched, a sort of sorrowful rage was overtaking her.

“Was Wuthering Heights edited?”

“In 2078, a number of revolutionaries fought to end the widespread book-burnings and hackings that had persisted for some years. These revolutionaries, known as The Bookkeepers, worked tirelessly to find a solution to the problems these books in their original forms created. Their solution, an artful remastering of many of the classics, allowed these books to be preserved for generations to come.”

“What were the problems they caused?”

“Many of these books caused emotional turbulence that can be detrimental to the human mind.”

Jane knew all this. She was a teenager in 2078, more than 60 years ago now, and remembered the celebrations. At first there were celebrations anyway. A compromise had been reached, literature had been saved. But as time went on, the books weren’t just edited to remove offensive passages, the became edited to include happier endings, to improve the messages, to soften the emotional turmoil they could inflict. These days most of the classics were totally remastered by AI; the promise was that with new technology, old writing could be improved. Wha happened was they were edited into bland, heartless mush. The masters were remastered. Programs had mined the original authors’ works and completely rewritten the books. The same voice, it was claimed, the same writing style, prose, rhetoric, but improved.

And there was another memory she was unlocking. A somewhat shameful one. Her mother belittling The Bookkeepers over the kitchen table. Her mother and father bickering with each other. Words her father had said. Something like, leave the girl out of it for God’s sake. She’s a child. It’s her future whether you like it or not and you can’t change it. 

And then, something else. Something gentle and tender. Lying under a fort made from a sheet between her and her older sister’s bed. Holding books. Real books. Reading them furtively, reading them in her hands, the pages soft and padded. Her mother, smiling, shushing. Their little secret. Reading the book; printed books. Reading the temporary words printed in ink that would some day fade. Or burn.

Tears ran down Jane’s face. Not shameful, rageful tears. Big fat memory tears, the ones that cleanse, the ones that dislodge feelings and allow them to be held. She removed her watch and walked to a dresser in her kitchen and emptied it of its contents. Then the chest of drawers in the living room. Under the stairs she riffled through boxes and undershoes. Up the stairs, she searched her bedroom, her studio, even the bathroom. Finally, standing on a suitcase for height, she reached up to the attic door and yanked down the opening, a tinny staircase unfurling as she did so. She scaled the stairs unsteadily and rummaged rampagingly through the boxes of memories put on hold. Finally, she found one. A book. A real book. She sniffed the cover, the pages that had been pawed by so many people, and fanned them through her fingers. She didn’t know how much she missed holding a real book until she no longer could.

Black Beauty. Her childhood favourite. The one her mother allowed her to keep like a secret. Buried in clothes she’ll never fit into again and dolls she’ll never play with. Black Beauty. The heartbreaking story of a horse. The book that, although she may not know it fully, taught a young Jane empathy, compassion, and hope. She returned to her green sofa with some effort and lay back. And she read. And as she did so, memories were dislodged.

Memories like butterflies. There, but gone. Real, but intangible. Feelings. Memories of feelings. Her mother’s stoic tenderness and ridged fingernails. Her sister’s contemptuous companionship and the smell of her morning breath. Her best friend’s loyalty and hair bows. The dreadful feeling of Monday mornings and the smell of her pencil case. She was transported, not just into Victorian England, but to her own childhood. Her own mind as a child galloped through her aged brain.

She finished the book at 4am and slept through the following day. When she rebuckled her watch on Friday morning, it buzzed with algorithmic worries for her wellbeing. She ignored them, had a coffee, put on her comfy shoes, and walked the 4.37 miles.

Upon entering the museum, she was satisfied to see the one-eyed mad behind his desk. Not glancing up, he asked her what she needed without recognising this was the trouble maker from a few days before.

“I have something I think you might like to see,” Jane muttered, opening her satchel to reveal the spine of the book.

The man brought his pale hand to his mouth and then attempted to undo this betraying move.

“Is that real?” he said firmly yet quietly.

“Yes,” Jane said stoically. “It’s real.”

“Don’t take it out. Not here. Leave it in the bathroom. Collect it next week,” he said under his voice, returning his gaze to his screen after a quick glance at the doorway.

Jane did as she was told, thrilled by the secretiveness. She walked home the long way, unsure pf what was to become of the book, of it’s recipient, or of her.

When she arrived home, she returned to the attic and searched for more, but there were none. She lay on the sofa and wondered what she was so busy doing in her working life to have barely noticed the end of literature, never mind to have borne witness to its demise. So busy. She was always so busy. Finally, at the age of 85, she was of retirement age and had little left for her to enjoy. She had missed an entire revolution with her eyes wide shut, yet had banked her entire life on enjoying what that revolution had been destroying. She had assumed that what was decided was for the best, yet allowed her existence to be rinsed of emotion, of depth. She had offered an outstretched wrist when the watches were updated to monitor emotions and thoughts. Yet, now that she had time for emotions and thoughts, there was nothing left to inspire them.

She cried for six days. On the seventh she returned to the museum, hoping against hope that her book would be waiting for her. It was not.

Instead, there was a different book, on top of which lay a note. “I can give you back Black Beauty whenever you want it. But for now, borrow this and return it for a new one when you’re done. We don’t have many, but we have some. And that’s a lot.”

Under the note was a copy of Of Mice and Men. Stained, dog-eared, Sellotaped. And with an ending that reminded her of her mother’s perfume, and made her weep.

Not so much justice as a lesson for life.

My wife has a permanent disability meaning each time we transit through an airport, transportation has to be booked for the whole party. It also sometimes requires using doors & corridors not normally for public use. There is also a strict protocol on boarding aircraft. First on, last off for disabled passengers & family, which at first glance can seem a pain…

However it does come with assigned staff & we’re able chat away & build some relationships while everyone else is waiting to pass through checkin & board.

So flying back into Manchester Airport in the UK 🇬🇧 after a 6 & half week world tour, the aircraft was crammed full & a as per normal, we duly wait in our seats while everyone else stands & crams like cattle to rush to alight the aircraft & get in first to passport control.

After all the other passengers had left, we’re chatting away to the aircrew about our holiday & our assigned liaison commented there will be a delay as they were awaiting a vehicle to take us through the airport terminal, maybe 10–15 minutes. So we’re not feeling it, but hey ho, it’s been a good few weeks. Time comes to depart & despite the side doors & ‘special’ corridors, we’re thinking there’s gonna be such a backlog at passport control… understatement!

They must’ve unloaded 10 aircraft at the same time, close to 3,000 people waiting, the passengers from ours somewhere in the middle of this melee & us last off – & the passport control was just a little slow & seemed miles away! Last thing we needed… 😲

Then, to our surprise & somewhat embarrassment, the driver of our vehicle cuts down the side of all those poor people & to the unspoken chorus of stares & open mouths, pulls right up at the front & the lovely lady at passport control, calls us through & commences to have a chat, asking about our adventures & time away.

So, just shows, there’s not much point all this rushing around in life, ‘cause, much to the consternation of the fleet of foot & hassled masses, those who are last will surely be first 🤣

NATO PREPARES NUCLEAR STRIKE ON RUSSIA BORDER, EU AUTHORIZES “LAUNCH MISSILES NOW”

My 21 year old grand-daughter has lived with us since she was about 1 yr old. In her teen years, she became interested in cars. A year ago she bought a 1985 El Camino project car, for the two of us to work on. The car has a primitive computer that controls timing and mixture control. It gets inputs from several sensors. We have been working on it for a year and have one engine problem left to resolve. We can’t get the intake manifold to seal.

The carb needed rebuilding. It is a very complicated, finicky carb, Quadrajet RA-E4ME. We rebuilt it three times, bought two commercially rebuilt carbs but couldn’t get any of them to work. Finally we bought two virgin carbs from EBay, that had never been worked on. I spent many hours watching YouTube videos and reading about how to do a rebuild (Thank you Cliff). We finally got one of the carbs to work correctly.

The computer has very limited diagnostics. A code reader is very expensive (OBD 1). Very few codes are stored. To read the code I have to put a jumper on the OBD port, turn the car to ON, watch a series of flashing lights on the dash to get a code, look up the code in the OEM manual and go through an extensive trouble shooting tree to try and fix the problem. Our newer cars can be scanned and get a very precise, detailed code along with the most probable causes and recommended repairs. With newer cars, you can see live data on a scanner and pin point problems. Multiple sensors on newer cars feed data to the computer. The computer makes adjustments to keep the car running well and efficiently.

Older cars require dedication, patience, intelligence and a lot of labor. But my grand-daughter and I both enjoy the process.

Spaghetti Roast

angel8
angel8

angel7
angel7

angel6
angel6

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) chuck roast
  • Vegetable oil
  • 3 cups ready-made spaghetti sauce
  • 1/2 teaspoon oregano
  • 2 medium onions, quartered
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 (8 ounce) package fresh mushrooms, sliced

Instructions

  1. Brown chuck roast over medium high heat in scant amount of oil.
  2. Place roast in slow cooker and add all other ingredients.
  3. Cook on LOW for 8 hours.
  4. Slice and serve over bed of angel hair pasta.

I can’t believe this today and there are people who tell them and as if nothing!

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main qimg 8d772ac65d193ac6f9824193b95a0060 lq

In 1965, a group of adolescents between the ages of 13 and 16 decided that it would be a good idea to steal a fisherman’s boat to go sailing for a few hours.

Before sailing they brought food that they took from their homes and a few. liters of water they were able to collect.

That same day they set sail on an adventure, the problem was that the children fell asleep after sailing for a few hours.

When they woke up they realized that they were adrift and that the boat had been damaged by the waves. They drifted for several days, when luckily they reached an uninhabited island.

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main qimg 47d65b3230fd5c1ca08bcde494e6eea7 lq

The children managed to get water from the coconuts and to eat the occasional fish they found. The real luck came when they climbed to the top of a cliff and found an abandoned settlement where they could stay.

The children established rules, worked in pairs, and there were even punishments if anyone disobeyed.

After 1 year and three months specifically, the Australian captain Peter Warner discovered the abandoned children after detecting smoke from a campfire.

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main qimg fd7a1f7da8d2cd744b01fa30c6a56db3 lq

“The children had set up a small commune with a food garden, hollowed-out tree trunks to store rainwater, a gym with weights, a badminton court, chicken coops, and a permanent fire.”

Peter Warner wrote in his memoirs.

The children were generally in good health when Warner found them. However, upon his return, the boys were imprisoned for stealing the boat. Warner secured the rights to a documentary on their survival story on the condition that they be released and recreated on camera.

Comparing Earth technology with alien civilizations | The Kardashev Scale

Ultraman in China

There is something unexpected about kids in China.

Every single one of them, from boys to girls, love Ultraman.

I know…!

It’s a Japanese character from the 1960’s, but no it hasn’t gone away. It just settled in for the long haul. And the kids in China all love this persona. And they cannot tell if it is a boy or a girl. Thus, all the kids of all genders love this hero!

2024. Ultraman.

Ultraman 7
Ultraman 7

Ultraman 6
Ultraman 6

Ultraman 5
Ultraman 5

Ultraman 4
Ultraman 4

Ultraman 3
Ultraman 3

Ultraman 2
Ultraman 2

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ultraman 1

Who would figure?

Today…

a retired paramedic – we went to a domestic violence incident. The poor woman, this wasn’t our first call out to her and we’d seen her so badly beaten before, but this time the filthy mongrel in his drunken rage had put a star picket (a metal fencing post that looks like a star at each end) into the outdoor fire pit, he then beat her, accused her of having sex with other men he then raped her with that star picket. We didn’t think she’d survive this one as we took her to hospital full lights n siren. We hadn’t seen her for a very long time after this event and we though she may have died, then one night we got her address come up, a DV situation again. We thought dispatch made a mistake when they said it was a male casualty. We got there and yep he’d started to beat her, this time she waited till he passed out drunk and she beat him with a star picket. He survived with major brain injury so will never beat anyone again and she got prison. I gotta say I wanted to cheer her on and high five her. Like she said prison is way safer than living with him.

I had a PE teacher that was a stereotype of a PE teacher. He was a shorter man, pretty buff, always wore shorts, bald with some facial hair. You’ve seen the type in movies. Let’s call him Mr. X.

The PE classes were mixed 9th and 10th grade. I was in 10th grade (sophomore year). A new boy arrived one day and he had a serious attitude problem. He was angry at the world. (A 9th grader, so PE was my only class with him). Every day he was mouthy and disrespectful. Yelling at kids, pushing and shoving, trying to start fights. Mr. X could not stand the kid. He’d send him to “go run laps” when his attitude got on his nerves.

One day, I don’t know how it started but I’m with my group doing some PE thing and we hear serious yelling. The kid has come up off the track and is shouting obscenities at Mr. X and stalking towards him. Mr. X turns this shade of reddish purple and meets the kid halfway and punches him. The kid starts fighting him and Mr. X kicks his ass. Full on brawl. All of us kids are watching this with jaws dropped.

Next thing we knew, the kid was lying there, and the freaking Principal and Security guards are there. Mr. X is escorted away. The Principal apologizes for us “having to see that”. The kid gets up and is taken away.

I never saw Mr. X again. The kid was fine, but super subdued after that. Never heard of any more trouble with him. He was a year behind me so he could have been expelled for all I know the next year, I just know he did not have an attitude problem in PE again.

The next day in PE, my little petite math teacher was there to teach us. She was totally out of her depth.. but that’s another story 😉

DOWNTOWN Los Angeles COLLAPSED

What happened at a wedding that made you feel horrible for the bride?

My friend Anthony married his wife 24 years ago.

The ceremony itself was fine. The weather was beautiful and the priest gave a great sermon.

The reception on the other hand was where I really felt bad for the bride and her family.

-One of his groomsman decided he wanted to make a speech as he felt he should have been best man. (My friend’s brother was his only choice as they are best friends as well)

-Two other guys almost came to blows over one of the few single female guests (She wasn’t interested in either of them btw)

-The bride’s family was not shy about stating their disdain for pretty much everything.

And worst of them all….They asked all the guests to make a video wishing the bridecand groom well. One of his buds was absolutely hammered goes up and says in a mock Tony Soprano/Vinnie Barbarino accent:

“Congratchlerations youse two pricks….and Tony if dis bitch gives you any trouble you let me know and I’ll have her whacked”

The bride saw this and was PISSED!! She pulled groom and said she wanted him to leave and read my friend the riot act about inviting that weasel in the first place.

Fortunately the videographer was able to edit him out.

Biscuits and Sausage Gravy

Biscuits and Sausage Gravy is popular all over America. It’s a staple dish on diner menus.

biscuits sausage gravy
biscuits sausage gravy

Yield: 6 servings, 2 biscuits each

Ingredients

Biscuits

  • 3 cups self-rising soft wheat flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup butter-flavored shortening
  • 1 1/4 cups buttermilk
  • Butter, melted

Sausage Gravy

  • 1 pound breakfast sausage (mild or hot)
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 3 1/4 cups milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt or seasoned salt
  • 2 teaspoons pepper
  • 1/8 teaspoon Italian seasoning

Instructions

Bisicuits

  1. Combine first 3 ingredients in a large bowl; cut in shortening with a pastry blender until mixture is crumbly.
  2. Add buttermilk, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened.
  3. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead lightly 4 or 5 times.
  4. Roll dough to 3/4 inch thickness; cut with a 2 1/2 inch biscuit cutter. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet.
  5. Bake at 425 degrees F for 12 minutes or until golden.
  6. Brush tops with butter.
  7. Split biscuits open; serve with Sausage Gravy.

Sausage Gravy

  1. Brown sausage in a skillet, stirring until it crumbles.
  2. Drain, reserving 1 tablespoon drippings in skillet. Set sausage aside.
  3. Add butter to drippings; heat over low heat until butter melts.
  4. Add flour, stirring until smooth. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.
  5. Gradually add milk; cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thickened and bubbly.
  6. Stir in seasonings and sausage. Cook until thoroughly heated, stirring constantly.

Notes

This recipe is easily doubled.

1. A good way to get your friends to buy you drinks at a bar is to tell them you quit drinking.

2. After meeting someone and shaking hands, smell your palm. Guarantee they won’t ever talk to you again.

3. If you want to sound sick when calling in to your work, lie on your back while hanging your head over the edge of the bed. You will sound congested.

4. Spill drink in the seat in front of you at the movies to avoid people blocking your view.

5. Want to go on a foreign vacation and can’t afford a flight? Just purchase a one way, then overstay your visa and get deported for free!

6. If you’re stuck on an annoying call, put your phone on airplane mode instead of hanging up. The other person will see “call failed”instead of “call ended”.

7. Take pictures of yourself everyday or week of you slowly getting fatter. When you have reached a good heavy weight, post all the photos in reverse and attach an exercise plan to sell.

8. If you ever want to be nosy and rummage through someone’s desk drawers but are scared of being caught, do so while holding an empty stapler.

9. When you start a new job, tell them you have a pine allergy. When Christmas comes and they start decorating remind them and then work from home that month.

10. At a crowded bar, and can’t get a seat? Go up to the hottest woman there, and hit on her. She’ll leave in disgust, and you can take her seat.

11. Flatulence works well for clearing crowds in front of famous paintings at art museums.

12. Put an old parking ticket on your windshield when parking illegally so the parking cops think you already got a ticket.

13. If you’re about to get in a fight tell the other person that you are HIV positive.

14. When meeting someone, tell them you are twice as far away from them as you actually are, and are willing to meet halfway, l.e. a block away from where you currently are.

15. If you’re flying somewhere and realize you have something that won’t get by security, turn it in to ‘lost and found’. Go pick it up when you return.

16. If someone asks to see your ID, act affronted, yell “you’re an ID!”, and stomp off in a huff.

Economic Danger: IMF Slams The U.S. Over China, WARNS Of Cold War Fragmentation

I told my boss that I’m going to resign, and he offered me twice my current salary if I stay, what should I do?

It happened to me. A year ago, I was 64, starting to think about retirement. I have a 24-mile commute through mountain roads and it can get treacherous during the winter. After missing a day because I was snowed in, I said, “the hell with this,” gave my boss notice, and started looking for another job, closer to home.

The next day the regional vice-president called and offered me a raise. I told him all my concerns about my age and the weather.

The day after that the president of the company called from HQ in Florida. I’d never met him before, but he offered me a bigger raise, one that would make me the highest-paid person with my job title in the company.

And I quickly realized that the reason I was commuting 24 miles over mountain passes was because there weren’t any jobs in my area. I could go to work for my son-in-law, but I’d already worked for him, and he’d fired me. Twice. We learned we really shouldn’t work together.

So I told the president of the company I’d stay.

A year and a half later I’m still there. Now I sort of feel obligated to stay, and pressure to do a fabulous job to earn that high paycheck they’re giving me (but my quality of work must have been at least acceptable or they wouldn’t have made the offer, right?) And I’m socking away a bit of money for my eventual retirement, whenever that is.

But part of me still wishes that I told them I was done. So to this day I don’t know if I made the right choice or not.

 

Have you ever caught your neighbor doing something that made you furious?

Yep, I woke up early one Saturday morning to what sounded like a bull dozier in my yard. I looked out of my bedroom window and saw a small bulldozer pushing oner a medium sized pine tree on my property.

I went up to the dozier and tried to get the attention of the driver who seemed intent on lining up his dozier for another one of my trees, he had already pushed down three.

I slammed my hand against the door and startled the driver. I asked him what the was doing. He leaned over and told me he had been hired to move some trees by my neighbor. I asked him “Isn’t it customary to get the owners permission before you push down his trees?”.

He said the neighbor had showed him which trees he was to push down. I told him to cease and desist until I got back.

I went to my neighbor and asked him by what authority he was pushing my trees down.He said “Those trees are outside of your fence” . I agreed but told him that I owned 20 feet of land outside of my fence and that the trees in question were clearly within the 20 feet.

He asked me “Why didn’t you put your fence around your whole property?”.

I told him it was my land, my fence, and my business but the fence did not mark the end of my property.

He went to get his plat and sure enough he had violated my property. He is such a jackass.

After Thought:

I didn’t sue the guy, but I should have. Later his dog came into my yard and attacked my wife’s cat. My yard, my wife’s cat, his damn dog.

I took the cat to the vet trying to save its life. The vet operated on the cat but eventually he had to put the cat down, because its ribs had destroyed its lungs and it struggled to breathe. It was clearly in terrible pain. My wife was hurting too. After the cat was euthanized, the bill was over $8,000.00.

I was angry and called that jackass and told him what had happened. He told me that he had no control over the dog and did not send it to my house, it had just wandered over there. It was only a cat, after all and I should have not spent that much money to save it’s life.

I told him, you will pay for that cat’s medical expenses and anything else I could make him pay for, just because he was a jackass.

I sued him and won, but there is no pain and suffering for a cat. There should be but there isn’t .

He is still a jackass.

 

Hegemonitis: Why The West Has Become So Dumb

 

After British “Storm Shadow” and French “SCALP-EG” Missiles Strike Russia, “Response against London and Paris Coming”

Hal Turner World

 

In mid and late April, Ukrainian SU-27 “Flanker” aircraft fired missiles into Russia.  The missile debris was retrieved by Russia and forensic exam revealed they were AASM-250 “Hammer” from France and AGM-88 from the U.S.

In the video below, released by Ukraine Armed Forces, the jet is shown firing AASM-250 “Hammer” extended range bombs into Russia:

Ukrainian Air Force Su-27 Flanker operations, conducting standoff strikes with US-supplied AGM-88 HARMS and French-supplied AASM-250 Hammer extended range bombs. pic.twitter.com/1WhMGMxZRA

— OSINTtechnical (@Osinttechnical) April 12, 2024

In the next video, also released by Ukrainian military, another Ukraine Air Force jet is shown firing AMERICAN AGM-88 High-Speed Anti-Radiation (HARM) missiles into Russia:

Ukrainian Air Force Su-27 launching US-supplied anti-radar AGM-88 HARM missiles. pic.twitter.com/Zo7oiErh4m

— Igor Sushko (@igorsushko) April 25, 2024

Over the past few months, other missile attacks into Russia from Ukraine were forensically analyzed by Russia and, at various locations, the missile were determined to be either French SCALP-EG cruise missiles, or British “STORM SHADOW” cruise missiles.

Russia has repeatedly warned the United States, Britain, and France – all of whom are supplying weapons to Ukraine — that such weaponry cannot be used to attack inside Russia.   Those warnings have apparently been ignored.

Earlier this week, Dmitry Medvedev, Deputy Chairman of the Russian Federation Council (Their version of a Senate) said, in a media interview:  “Storm Shadow/SCALP-EG missiles are not controlled by the military personnel of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, but by the British and French who arrived in Ukraine.”

He went on to add:
“That is why the response to such actions will not be long in coming, and the target will not only be Kiev, but also London and Paris.”

“I’m embarrassed to be out in public with my boyfriend.”

 

My boyfriend and i have been together for 2 years. I love my boyfriend, but he lacks social awareness and doesn’t have good manners. For example, when we went out to dinner the other night, he was talking/laughing extremely loudly, burping and farting. When we go to the movies, he talks regularly rather than whispering and makes commentary about the movie, which annoys the other people in the theatre. Also, whenever we walk past a group of people, he tries to be funny and says stupid things. For example, the other day, we were walking past a group of guys and my boyfriend was like “i need to fart” super loudly. Mind you, he’s 27.

I don’t know if i’m being overly sensitive or if his behaviour is childish and unacceptable. How can i handle this situation?

Dear Embarrassed Girlfriend,

Your boyfriend’s lack of social awareness and immature behavior in public settings is understandably frustrating and embarrassing for you. Burping, farting loudly, making inappropriate commentary at the movies, and saying crude things to strangers is the kind of conduct most people outgrow by the time they graduate high school, not the way a 27-year-old man should be acting.

You’re absolutely right to be bothered by this. It’s not overly sensitive to expect your partner to have basic manners, exercise restraint, and behave respectfully in shared public spaces. His childish antics reflect poorly on him and on you by association.

The real issue is why your boyfriend seems oblivious to social norms and unconcerned with how his behavior affects you and others around him. Have you talked to him directly about this? I would sit him down at a neutral time, not right after an incident, and calmly explain how his actions make you feel. Use “I” statements like “I feel embarrassed when you make loud bodily noises in restaurants” rather than “You always humiliate me.”

See if he’s receptive to toning things down and working on his self-control and social skills. If he gets defensive, minimizes your feelings, or refuses to make an effort to change, then you’ll need to consider whether you can accept this long-term. It’s no fun constantly cringing at your partner’s behavior.

Ultimately, you can’t force him to change, but you can and should advocate for yourself. Make clear that the status quo is unacceptable to you. If he’s unwilling to modify his behavior, you may need to modify the relationship. There’s someone out there who can make you laugh without making you cringe.

Shorpy

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SHORPY 4a23886a.preview

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Because he is a Minor

Indian law after the Nirbhaya Incident can treat Juveniles as Adults when judging and delivering sentences but the law still allows Juveniles to be given leniency during pre trial proceedings including BAIL

The Bail was delivered on the grounds that

  • During Pre Trial, a Minor can’t be considered an Adult. Only during trial can the prosecutor request and apply for the Minor to be considered as an Adult and he will be punished as an Adult meaning Port Arthur or Yerwada is definite rather than JDC or Reform School

Thus the Minor was released on Bail

It’s within norms of Indian Law


However I am surprised the father or mother haven’t been booked under 199 MVA

Typically when a Minor drives a car, his father or mother or the owner of the car is held liable and will be booked

They may not get bail so easily

Maybe they complained that the car was stolen


Please note :-

He has only got Bail

He has to report to Police Station every Wednesday and Friday

He has to surrender his passport immediately

If he flees, his parents will face charges

He will be tried for 304A , 279, 338 IPC and various sections of the MVA and if found guilty will definitely be treated as an Adult


What if this was a poor 16 year old kid without a rich father?

Ah!

If that was the case, he would be sent to a Juvenile Home on Remand and would not likely be released until sentencing and would likely move from Juvenile Remand to Jail on reaching 18 years


I quoted Indian law, never said it was applied equally and fairly

A reason I call it a Cesspit Nation

Cat Adopts Orphaned Tiger Cubs. 3 Years Later, She Reunites With Them & The Unthinkable Happens!

When a zoo cat unexpectedly loses her entire litter of kittens, she is heartbroken and inconsolable. But then, another feline mother lives the opposite experience – she gives birth to healthy kittens, and rejects them. The zookeepers worry about the tiny cats. Without their mother and no one else to raise them, they will lack several skills they will need as adults. But then, the first cat adopts the orphaned kittens… even if they’re actually tigers. A year later, they are separated to allow the tigers to flourish. 3 more years pass, and the three cats are reunited. What happens next is unthinkable!

 

 

What was the moment you cancelled the friendship with your best friend?

We had been best friends during high school and were practically attached at the hip. Two girls in a close group of five friends.

We would spend every chance we got as a group.

One night we went out to a dance club and I hit it off with a really nice guy.

The guy asked for my number, and I gave it to him.

The next evening, my friends and I met up, as usual, and my female best friend asked me in a teasing manner, whether I’m planning on going out with the xxxxxx from last night.

The x’s are in place because it stands for a very derogatory term for a black person.

The guy that I gave my number to it was black.

My former best friend then went on to say that no friend of hers will go out with a xxxxxx.

I was too shocked to answer, and have to admit that back then I was not a confrontational person and tried to laugh it off because I was so embarrassed by what she said. But she was serious.

Her words stuck with me as something I could never forgive her for.

She never even spoke to the guy, yet decided he was less than her because of the color of his skin.

I have to mention that he called me a couple days later, I wasn’t home, and spoke to my mother (this was in the 90’s, before the prevalence of cell phones).

When I got home, my mother was gushing over the polite young man that called me.

My mother was always annoyed that my friends didn’t have proper calling etiquette (like saying “hi, May I speak to Michal please”, instead they would say “is Michal there” without even saying hi).

What my racist friend didn’t know is that this young man was a marine, and my mother loved the polite way he spoke to her, and told me she’d love for me to invite him over.

I began to distance myself from that friend after that, which became much easier because we graduated soon after and I didn’t have to look at that racist again.

 

Larry Johnson: China-Russia-Iran A New Alliance

 

What is the most shocking thing a judge has said to you in open court?

“Guilty, $1000 fine and one year of jail!”

Let me give you a little back story. I was in a motorcycle accident on base while in the Army. Being a knucklehead boot, I hadn’t gotten a motorcycle license, and my registration and insurance were out of date. Somebody didn’t see me and pulled in front me, and I T-boned her car. When the MPs showed up, she was clearly at fault for the accident but when I went to show my license, registration and insurance, I was given multiple tickets.

Fast forward to my day in court. The driving without insurance was a no-joke offense with up to a $1000 fine and a year in jail. I negotiated with the prosecutor before the case that I would accept a $500 fine and be done.

I went before the judge, who read off the charges and suggested they were serious charges and I could go to jail and I should get a lawyer. I looked over to the prosecutor, who just gave me a little hand wave like “Don’t worry about it.”

The judge then strongly suggested I get a lawyer, which I declined. When I declined, he rapped his gavel and said, “Fine, you are condemned to a $1000 fine and one year in jail.” This would have also ended my military career and resulted in a less-than-honorable discharge. I did not go down, but my knees turned to jelly.

The prosecutor jumped, asked to speak to the judge and ran to the bench. After a quick sidebar the judge said, “OK, $500 fine, next case.”

 

What is the most jaw-dropping method for shoplifting that you have seen?

I worked as a Security manager at a large retail store and was friendly with the Store Controller, who managed the computer system.

This was late 90’s and the PC’s were still monochrome, DOS based, and very difficult to utilise. So one morning my colleague said I must come and take a look at how he is able to clone a session on any terminal in the store and look at sales and other transactions that are taking place as they are captured – “live”.

He asked me, which area he must connect to, so we can see if anything is happening. One of my favourite areas was the watch counter as they had some really cool stuff. After typing in a few commands, the screen changes to the till at the counter and seconds later we see a credit for a Fossil watch – R600.00, around $80.

I owned a Fossil watch and this piqued my interest, why would someone return this brand of watch, I thought they were really nice. So I told my buddy, let’s go downstairs to the counter and find out why the customer was not happy.

Arriving at the counter we met the cashier, and I asked her to see the watch, also asking why the client had brought it back.

I will never forget the look on her face – her smile turned into sheer terror… there was no watch. She was crediting items that did not exist, paying cash out of the till as “refund” which went into her pocket. She was also responsible for stock control and was able to manipulate figures so the fictitious returns were well hidden. Being a staff member for a little over 6 years, one can only imagine how much money she had taken.

It still amazes me how she was caught, the total number of random events and the exact timing that led to her demise. Karma? I am a firm believer.

Is there any weapon from history that can’t be replicated?

There’s one type of steel whose production method have been lost to history but people are still trying to replicate today: Damascus steel.

Damascus steel is pretty legendary, because the method of making it is lost to history, because of its intricate, beautiful pattern, and also because of its durability. Perhaps more surprisingly, traces of carbon nanotubes have been found in real Damascus blades. Now, this is obviously an unintended byproduct of the manufacturing process but it does explain how the material became so highly regarded to the point of being mythical; it had been said that real Damascus blades could cut through a gun barrel (most likely a myth; the same way that supposedly Japanese WW2 mass-produced katana was said to have cut through hot gun barrels. It’s very unlikely at best).

The term ‘Damascus’ itself is also hotly debated: What constitutes a proper ‘Damascus’?

Interestingly, the Damascus steel is not from Damascus. It is actually thought to be from India, though it became associated with Persia and the Arab world. In fact, it got as far as Russia, where it was called ‘Bulat’. There are plenty of theories how they became called ‘Damascus’, like that Europeans who first encountered it found it in Damascus (back then one of the centers of sword production), or it was a corruption of a renowned Arab swordmaker’s name who made these, and so on. Regardless, people from Damascus do not refer to this steel as ‘Damascus’. The truth of the origin of the name is also likely lost to history.

In the 19th century, ‘Damascus’ was the term for ‘pattern-welded steel’ that was used in making knifes and gun barrels. And then in the 20th century, people started marketing their patterned knifes as ‘Damascus’ to latch on to the fame, adding further to the confusion.

Scientists and engineers have been trying to recreate the material from current samples, but so far they could only come close but not exactly replicate the process. To make them properly, a smith would need the correct raw materials and knowledge of the procedures, both of which probably will never be found again.

HOWEVER, by today’s standards, Damascus isn’t all that special with regards to its strength, the same way that Japanese swords aren’t particularly superior to European or other types of swords. Back then, however, seeing something so beautiful and yet durable must have been nearly magical.

Yes, and I regret it.

We worked together for several years, and one day, I disclosed that I was going through a divorce. She sympathized as her marriage was a mess. We commiserated about our mutual marriage problems for some time, and (I think partially based on my situation) she filed for divorce.

We “dated” in secret until her divorce was final, and then a year or so later, we got married.

After a few years, she moved to a different company (so that all of our eggs were not in one basket…). We both changed jobs several times, moved three times, and had a pretty good life.

I don’t regret the good times. What I do regret is not taking the advice of my first divorce attorney to get a prenuptial agreement before marrying again.

When we both entered into our second marriages, I had a decent nest egg. She was broke. Being in love, I felt the prenup wasn’t necessary. Oh, hell yes, it was necessary. Not only did I pull her out of bankruptcy, but I shifted her and her four kids into a very comfortable life. We went on multiple cruises and international vacations and had very nice homes (e.g., several 5-bedroom, 5-acre properties).

After the kids were all grown and living independently, I think I outlived my usefulness and she left me. Earlier promises to allow me to keep my entire retirement account went out the window, and her attorney fought for half of everything – including pre-marital assets that I thought were excluded. That’s a long, sordid story, but how many people keep detailed financial records from 25+ years ago? And with no prenuptial agreement, I was screwed.

I know of many successful marriages between people who met at work. I’m not suggesting that is a bad thing. My only caution is to protect any family or personal assets by getting a prenup.

What are 20 things absolutely worthwhile in life?

 

  1. Marriage — To have or not to have a life partner is a matter of choice. But I’ll tell you why it’s worthwhile. Life is better enjoyed when you’re in pairs.
  2. Sex — This comes at number two on the list for obvious reasons. Unless you’re celibate, you absolutely need this. Besides, without it, marriages are dead. Biology calls. And it perpetuates your genes.
  3. Love — I won’t even begin to explain why you need this. It’s what makes life worthwhile.
  4. Family — Because it provides a support system that no other institution can. And it binds societies together.
  5. Resilience — Life itself is tough and I don’t have to remind you that there are many trials. Developing a thick skin to withstand every storm is a particularly good thing to have.
  6. Risk — Yes, has it ever occurred to you that without risk there can never be any meaningful success? We all learned how to walk by taking risks. Big risks.
  7. Laughter — Have you heard that it takes far fewer facial muscles to smile than to be angry? Well, laughter takes it even further — It pumps that much-needed oxygen into your lungs perpetuating your longevity.
  8. Fitness — Fitness and health go hand in hand. If you’re in the habit of eating well, then go one step further and take some exercises. You’ll keep the doctor away and the bills low.
  9. Happiness — You can do without money but you absolutely need happiness to stay mentally healthy.
  10. Travel — I cannot even begin to explain how the feeling of traveling and experiencing new adventures does to your system. It puts into a state of rest.
  11. Investing — Securing your future is a must if you know that you’ll still be here unless something bad happens. Even if something bad happens to you, it is still worthwhile to invest so that your family may not be left with nothing to eat.
  12. Education — You can’t imagine how the ability to read and write is powerful. Obtaining relevant education is not only worthwhile but also an investment.
  13. Friends — Friends do come in handy especially if you’re in tight places.
  14. Goal setting — You can’t just live aimlessly in life.
  15. Discipline — Will keep you out of trouble.
  16. Wisdom — Will help you make good decisions and sound judgments.
  17. Passion — You absolutely need this.
  18. Courage — You will try and fail many times. You must equip yourself with this ability to keep trying even when you know you risk to fail again.
  19. Focus — There are just a bunch of things that will work for you. Setting your focus is absolutely necessary to ensure you don’t miss the target.
  20. Self-belief — If you don’t believe and appreciate yourself, no one else will.

Walmart Issues a Major Warning To Entire US Economy (It’s Bad)

 

 

Have you ever bought a car that didn’t run and found that it was an easy fix?

I have!

Around 2010, I went to check out a 1984 Ford Bronco. It was in really nice shape, but the owner had tried to convert the 300 I6 engine from a small 1bbl carburetor to a big aftermarket 4bbl, as well as performance headers and exhaust. Afterward, he couldn’t get it to drive much more than about 15 mph and it was gutless. He eventually parked it and it sat for about a year or two until he finally decided to just get rid of it.

I went over and looked at it, and despite the fact that he had to fight with it for about 30 minutes to get it fired up using starting ether, it ran quite nicely and underneath the engine was in good shape. Whatever the problem, it was on the outside (ignition, carb, etc).

I bought it for $600 and towed it out of his yard with my brother steering the Bronco. It was a 20 mile drive home and I didn’t feel like towing it the whole way, so I pulled it into a parking lot and popped the hood.

For some reason, the idle adjustment screw was about 2 inches too long (it’s usually about 1/4″) and it would jam into the body of the carburetor, physically keeping the throttle from opening further than about 5%. Since you normally have to pump a the carb a few times to spray gas into the intake to get it to start, you couldn’t move the pedal enough to get any out (which is why it wouldn’t start). Then, once you did finally get it started, you couldn’t move the pedal far enough to accelerate.

I pulled the screw out and voila. It fired right up. My brother drove my vehicle while I drove the Bronco home at about 30 – 40mph.

Once home, I found out that all the spark plugs all had different gaps, which was causing it to pop and back fire, as well as several intake and exhaust bolts completely missing. Once I fixed those issues, that thing was a beast.

Owned for about 5 years and put about $1000 into maintenance, tires, and miscellaneous fixes. Ended up selling it for about $5000. It was a beauty, and ran like a top.

 

Part 1 | The Galactic Lyran-Orion Wars | Astral Legends

I am told that this is the REAL DEAL. You please check it out.

 

 

What did your mechanic say that made your “jaw drop”?

I left my wife to take my car to the local MOT station as I was working away, my wife went to collect it that evening ready for me coming back the next day. . She rang me that evening and said “bad news I haven’t got the car cos they said it’s too dangerous to drive ” they estimate for cost to make it roadworthy works out at about 50% of the cars value. , at this point my jaw hit the floor l was speechless . She said the mechanic gave her a list of work that needed doing before he’d release the car for her to drive on the road . The next day I went straight from the station to the garage and said I’ve come to collect my car, the mechanic said ” I’ve explained to your wife it’s not road worthy and can not be released, so she has authorised the work to be done ” I said nonesence nothing has been agreed , after a long and “meaningful ” discussion with the service manager I drove away in my car.!!! The next day I booked it in at the main agents for its MOT, SURPRISE it passed with flying colours, no work was needed. I took my car back to the local MOT station with my new MOT certificate and showed it to the service manager, he said impossible it’s not the same car , he then rang the main agents and spoke to their service manager. I could not hear the exchange but the result was he asked me to leave . The moral of the story is if the garage sees a woman with a car they assume she knows nothing and they will try it on .

When I was 13-years-old, I had a little two-year-old sister who would throw explosive temper tantrums on a daily basis. Loud noises have always bothered me since I was a baby, and this was no different.

Unfortunately, my parents believed that ignoring the temper tantrums was the best way to handle them, and would let my little sister scream for hours on end. Our home was small enough that she could be heard throughout the entire house, and I couldn’t get away from it. Furthermore, my six younger siblings and I were homeschooled, meaning that I was around my family 24/7.

All I wanted as a young teen was to get away and have some time to myself, but that was next to impossible. In addition, I was constantly getting in trouble for not completing my homeschool work on time. I told my parents time and time again that I did not do well with homeschooling, as I needed a structured environment in order to get things done, but they kept blowing me off year after year.

I got into frequent arguments with my parents, often regarding the way they handled my little sister’s temper tantrums which, in turn, got me into trouble for “talking back” and “disrespecting authority.” I would fight with my younger siblings over various things, and I think it’s because I was around them too much. The arguments with my parents and siblings often ended with me running to my room and bawling my eyes out. I had no friends, either, because I was a socially awkward, dorky kid due to my parents sheltering us from the real world.

I wanted to be alone, but would get in trouble with my parents if I slammed or locked my door. I cried for hours every day, wishing that I was never born. I would pull my hair and scratch my arms to punish myself because I knew I was a horrible person at the time and that my family would be better off without me. I remember praying to God to let me die in my sleep, and was actually making serious plans to run away.

At the time, I attributed all this as normal teenage hormones, but now I look back and realize that I was suffering from depression and didn’t even realize it. Furthermore, my entire family was oblivious to the fact as well and my parents didn’t do a damn thing to help me.

I went undiagnosed for six more years — until I was 19 — and thinking about suicide every single day. I told my mom once, “I don’t want to live anymore, but I’m not sure if I want to die either.” I think that’s when it finally clicked for her that something was wrong.

A few days prior to that, I was crying in my car at college and it clicked in my mind that something wasn’t right. I had a roommate that bullied me, and every day I cried myself to sleep. I had lost interest in everything I enjoyed and I felt guilty just for being alive. I was constantly thinking about how I would kill myself, and I was very close to crashing my car while driving one night.

Thankfully, since I have been on medication, I haven’t hit a point as low as that, but I’ve come pretty close several other times. Looking back, I just wish that I would have realized I was battling depression sooner, and maybe my teenage years wouldn’t have been such a nightmare.

Vintage 1960 era family life

Great pictures.

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Have you ever been in a bank or store when a robbery happened?

Yep, at a fast food place.
I was coming home from a bar and decided to stop at a taco place that stays open until 2am.

I missed key indicators, due to being a tad intoxicated.

I backed in to a parking space right by the door.
I went in and did not even notice what was going down.
I was looking up at the menu, which was in front of the cash registers.
After deciding what I wanted to eat, I looked down and forward and all of the employees were standing there with their hands up over their heads! I looked around and omg I am standing next to one of the robbers. One beside me and one in front behind the counter, with masks over their faces and big guns!

The one standing next to me started yelling and sticking his gun in my face.
I glanced around and saw a small group of patrons huddled over at a table in the back.

I put my hands in the air and told the guy that I didn’t want any trouble and that I was going to join those over in the corner. Hands in the air, I stepped backwards towards that table. If I was going to be shot, no way was it going to be in the back. I faced this robber as I slowly walked backwards away from him.

I think it threw him. He didn’t anticipate that reaction. Thankfully, they only wanted money and did not shoot anyone.

They proceeded to rob the place and run out the door.

What are some things that people who live in places with brutally low temperatures know, that the rest of us don’t?

A man in the Yukon was telling me about when his wife was about to give birth in the winter. When the temp gets below about 50 below zero the air freezes in your tires so you can’t drive. He took his wife to Whitehorse ahead of time and left her until he could get back to get them. People plan to be frozen in or snowed in for weeks. We drove through the Yukon in November it was really pretty. You don’t use chains there only tourist use chains. The roads then were not paved but packed snow over gravel. Road graders kept them smooth. They are not icy because they freeze once and stay frozen all winter fresh snow is packed on top. When traveling you always carry a couple of heat sources so if your car dies you don’t freeze to death, cans of Sterno can be used to melt snow to drink and heat the interior of your car a little bit. On the road if you break down every single person passing will stop to help so you always stop too.

My ex was a probation officer. Her job was to deal with serious sex offenders who’d just been released from long sentences.

While being away these guys had lost their home, their job, their partner etc so had nothing to come out to. Hence they were accommodated in hostels.

Ideally she’d like to integrate these people in to society but the assumption was given the chance they’d return to their old ways. So the priority was to prevent them doing so, they weren’t allowed mobile phones or internet access for obvious reasons.

She came home one night and said she’d spoken to a guy who said he’d been out banging on doors trying to find a job but everyone he spoke to asked for his number so they could call him back. Obviously he didn’t have a number so he was stuck. She’d been doing the job for a long time and she can spot liars from 100 yards, she said 100% this guy is legit he actually wants to turn his life around.

I took an old mobile phone out of my drawer stuck some credit on it and said give him this. She knew she shouldn’t do this but she believed in the guy. She gave him the phone and 2 days later he came to see her and said I’ve found a job.

A guy actually finding a job was so unusual she was asked for an explanation. She said my partner loaned him a phone which enabled him to get a job.

She was disciplined for breaking the rules.

First off, jail and prison are two different things in the United States, so you’re unlikely to be serving more than a year if you’re in a municipal lockup.

Therefore, a significant percentage of jail detainees won’t be staying for an entire week to figure this one out.


But I was one of the prisoners staying for months rather than days in county jail, so I can speak to your question.

main qimg 5040f2af6bc420e023495a0b059e57ef
main qimg 5040f2af6bc420e023495a0b059e57ef


Basically, the first week is a matter of settling in.

  • If you have a support system of family and friends on the outside, they can contribute to your JPay and SecurTel accounts so you can order sundries from the commissary and make collect calls on your pod’s payphones.
  • Likewise, you’ll be required to make a list of the people you’d like for the facility to consider for approval to come see you on visitation day. Said clearance can take awhile, so they’re probably not going to get to come during the first hours available.
  • I experienced a severe spike in my blood pressure my first few days without alcohol and opioids, so the med staff put me on furosemide until my symptoms started to subside about a month into my sentence. Don’t, however, expect anything for the nerves or discomfort, ‘cause that ain’t comin’.
  • If there’s a sit-down library, visit it as soon as you’re allowed, and if not, make a list of FAVORITE AUTHORS (not titles…jails have notoriously limited selections) for the inmate rolling the book trolley to wheel your way. The day room TV, card and board games are gonna get old real quick. Inmates who don’t read, suffer; it’s as simple as that.

Mostly you’re gonna spend the first week figuring out that jail isn’t as dire as the movies and TV make it out to be.

Most of the people you meet are gonna be decent human beings who managed to fuck up just enough to end up where you are right now.

(…and that includes the CO’s.)

While the ones who aren’t decent usually end up getting relegated to SHU and eventually transported upstate.


    • Bottom Line: You Can Do This

Because the real trouble starts when you’re back on the street and trying to put your life back together.

Jail is a cinch next to what comes after.

Amazing times that we live in!

I’m American but our country is a shitshow.

Deep Brown Gravied Pork Chops

deep brown gravied pork chops
deep brown gravied pork chops

Yield: 4 pork chops and 1/2 cup gravy total
Servings: 4; about 3 ounces cooked pork and 2 tablespoons gravy per serving

Ingredients

  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 4 bone-in ribeye (rib) pork chops
  • 1 tablespoon canola oil
  • 14 1/2 ounces chicken broth (reduced sodium)
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper (coarsely ground)
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons green onions (or fresh parsley), finely chopped

Instructions

  1. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the flour and cook for 3 to 3 1/2 minutes or until lightly browned and fragrant, stirring constantly. Remove from skillet and set aside on separate plate.
  2. Combine the paprika, thyme and garlic powder in a small bowl and sprinkle evenly over both sides of the pork chops.
  3. Add oil in pan over medium high heat. Cook pork chops for 4 minutes on each side or until the pork chops reach an internal temperature of 145 degrees F. Set aside on separate plate.
  4. Whisk together the flour and 1/2 cup of the broth until smooth. Stir into the pan residue.
  5. Gradually stir in the remaining broth, salt and pepper until smooth. Reduce the heat to medium and cook 10 minutes or until thickened slightly, stirring occasionally.
  6. Add the pork and any accumulated juices and cook for 1 minute to heat through, turning several times to coat.
  7. Sprinkle with the green onion.

We are Living in The Twilight Zone ..…

The pause that refreshes

When I was a young boy, perhaps 11 or 12, I went on a business road-trip with my dad. We drove throughout the Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia hills selling “ship propeller shaft “sleeves”” to prospective small boat yards.

In that week-long travel, we would stop at various small towns along the way.

I well remember us pulling into a out-of-the-way (on a dirt road) rural West Virginia General Store. We were in the sticks… the middle of nowhere. I am not kidding.

It looked something like this
It looked something like this

And we go into the decrepit old wooded unpainted building, and walking on the wooden floor that make noise with every step. There was an old man there. Shit! Older than God himself, I would say. And my dad wanted to get a coke.

Well, this place didn’t have a coke in the cooler. But the old man said that he “had just the thing”, and he went into the basement and after a few minutes of him rummaging about, and making a bunch of noise, comes up with this ancient old wooden box. Completely dust covered. I mean it. It was layered like you have no idea.

28601668 1m
28601668 1m

And he used a hammer to open it. He pried the wooden box open, and the nails were all rusty, and some of the wood was just brittle. I remember that clearly.

Inside were bottles of coke-cola. But they were strange bottles. He chuckled that “you’re getting the real thang“.

And handed each of us a coke.

Now, the bottle was strange. It was curved, but not like a normal coke bottle was. It had this fat Goose-Like shape. Exactly like the bottle in the picture below. The third from the left.

65f51d3c8f4d4e70514eb00b3d034dc6
65f51d3c8f4d4e70514eb00b3d034dc6

He said something about getting this in his inheritance from his father. But I wasn’t paying attention. I was simply asking my father if this was good to drink. And both he and the old man laughed.

“Don’t be silly.” My father said. “Of course it is.”

So the old fella got out a bottle opener and opened up three bottles, Yeah. He opened up one himself. And he kept watched me with this funny curious look on his face.

I wouldn’t have remembered this moment at all if it wasn’t for his amused look.

And so, I looked up at my dad. And he was swigging his. So I took a tepid taste.

I was good.

No shit. Really good.

Ah. But different.

You see, it was not refrigerated, but it tasted refreshing. Like those mint commercials that suggest a blizzard of freshness. It tasted like a normal coke, but maybe a little bit watered-down perhaps. Yet…but… had this lite refreshing “bite”.

It also wasn’t nearly as sweet. Oh, it was sweet, but not as thick, and not as super sweet. More like a gentler coke, but with a mint-like “bite”.

The old man smiled and chucked, and looked at me again.

“What do you think son?” he asked.

I told him that it was good. Yeah. I told him that I really liked it.

Again, he chuckled. Yeah. He nodded.

He said. “It’s the pause that refreshes.”

Then he added, “Son this is a special coke. You know that, right?”

I had no clue as to what the Hell he was talking about.

But I said “Yes Sir. It really is good sir.”

And then after that we both left and got in the car and drove off.

I will tell you that my dad and I had a great time afterwards just chatting away in the long drive. Man, we talked about so much, and so many things. Not that I remember them all, but it was really enjoyable. I do remember that.

We were “chatter boxes”.

Oh, I never went back to that old man, and haven’t a clue as to where that General Store actually was. But you know what I think?

I think that we drank the original Coke-cola; the one and only made with real cocaine leaves.

And that is both a blessing and a curse. As good as it was, the present day sugar-laden version cannot compete against the less sweet, but totally refreshing cocaine-laden version.

Real talk.

Today…

The three coups of July

In less than two weeks we have seen three events in the United States that could all by themselves be described as coups or coup attempts.

  1. Trump assassination attempt.
  2. Kamala’s coup, the forced removal of Biden from the ticket and possibly from the presidency.
  3. Trump’s counter coup after failed assassination, selection of JD Vance as candidate for Vice President.

The last event may be the most consequential of all, as it opens the possibility of a real regime change in America. During his first term Trump had little influence on the workings of the US government. He failed by surrounding himself with neocons and Deep State operatives.

The failed assassination now acts like the Reichstag fire of 1933, giving Trump Hitlerian powers to remove the old establishment. He is now manning his team with people the US mainstream likes to call “Russian agents” or “Putinists”. A real danger to democracy!

Interestingly, the Twitter account of TIME magazine published three covers and cover stories for a print issue dated with a sell-by date of August 5.

I do not know which one, if any, have appeared in print. Note, that the three covers do not match the three “coups” I have listed. Covers 1 and 3 are related to Biden’s ousting, cover 2 relates to Trump’s assassination attempt and counter coup.

Posted by: Petri Krohn | Jul 24 2024 16:46 utc | 21

What was a red flag that made you stop talking to a person immediately?

I was scheduled to fly from Boston to Minneapolis very early on July 4th to celebrate my sister’s birthday that day (we always joke that she gets a fireworks show for her birthday each year).

As a student with a tight budget, I booked the cheapest flight, which had a layover in Chicago.

After landing in Chicago, the airline announced that the plane had mechanical issues and we were to fly at the same time the following day.

That was not an option for me.

Birthdays were important for my sister, and I was determined to get to my destination no matter what.

That’s how I ended up on a greyhound bus, traveling the 8 hours or so from Chicago to Minneapolis (by car it’s around 6 hours, buses tend to take their time and have a short bathroom break in the middle).

The bus was full and I ended up sitting next to a fellow college student.

We got to talking had had a really nice time chatting and time passed fairly quickly.

About an hour away from our destination, and having felt very comfortable with each other, this young man asked me where I was during the 9–11 attack.

This was in 2006, almost 5 years after the attack, and we each spoke about where we were when it happened.

He then said that he trusts me enough to let me know that the the US government was behind the attack and that they were framing Al Quaeda.

I thought he was kidding.

He wasn’t.

Uncontrollably, and quite literally, all that came out of my mouth was: “Oh no, I thought you were normal.”

I couldn’t even look at him after that, moreso because I was a bit embarrassed by what I said to him.

I didn’t mean to insult him, but was so taken back by what he accused the government of doing, especially after al Quaeda proudly told the world that they were reaponsible.

Not only could I not look at him after that, I didn’t speak to him at all.

I made it to my sister’s birthday though.

Why American Suburbs are so Creepy (liminal spaces)

Has anyone ever bought a car with the wrong engine in it?

I have.

I ordered a Ford Crown Victoria in 1981.

Three weeks before delivery I got a call from Ford Motor company.

The engine factory in Windsor, Ontario is on strike. Would I mind if my new car had a “slightly larger” engine? No price change.”

It made no difference to me. I’m a sales guy, and I don’t ever do anything special with my cars.

It arrived.

The dealer apologized for this car on delivery. “It may have a little harder suspension than you expected”.

Wow, what an understatement.

This car was a V-8 powered police car in plain clothes, a real wolf in sheep’s clothing. It looked just like in the catalogue.

But everything outside the cabin was super heavy duty. Larger wheels, oversize brakes, extra-large radiator, battery, and alternator, as well as a heavy-duty transmission with overdrive. Top speed 225 km/h (140 mph). It could go faster, but I lost my nerve.

I drove it with utmost care.

It was so light in the rear end that I could spin the tires on dry roads up to 60 km/h (40 mph).

My wife used to have fun squealing the tires by jumping on the accelerator going around corners.

My teenage daughter? She NEVER drove it, not for one metre. NEVER.

The drawback? A 55 litre tank. In the city, two days between fillups. On the highway, about three hours between fill-ups.

I kept it for four years and sold it to a guy who added a tow-hook for his camping trailer and kept it for another six years.

The blessing – my company paid for all my gas in those days.

My next car – A V8 Pontiac made under the worst of the 55 mph rules in the United States. A wheezing engine and a speedometer that ended at 140 km/h (90 mph). I don’t think it could be driven any faster, not even downhill with a tailwind.

 

1950s USA – Real Street Scenes of Vintage America – Colorized

When did you realize small things matter?

Once, when I was sitting in my physics exam, there was this girl who was an assistant in the exam room. She watched and kept eyes on us so that nobody could cheat. She also organized all the stuff that was related to the exam.

She came to me and asked me for an extra pen, so I gave one to her, and I put my head back to my test. I kept writing and I didn’t raise my head till the time was over.

I got up from my seat and gave them my papers and they asked me to sign; I did. Everything was normal; I got out and met my friends. We started walking and talking. We probably walked an hour away from the university.

And…

Suddenly, I saw a car coming directly towards us, and the driver was a girl. She stopped in front of us dramatically with the sounds of breaks screeching and smoke everywhere.

She came out of the car. I saw that she held my pen in her hands.

It was her; the assistant girl from the exam room! What blows me away is that she did all that to bring my cheap pen back to me!

I mean it wasn’t even easy to find us after we walked so far, and I’m sure she had more important things to handle there in the university than to go out and look for me!

I always thought those kinds of people no longer existed, but they do exist and they are so beautiful and pure.

Sorry for my English, but if you get the story in general, that’s more than enough for me because I’m glad to share it.

CHINA Destroy U.S SANCTION Shackle, Produces Quantum Module

 

 

What was a red flag that made you stop talking to a person immediately?

I am white. At the time this occurred, my biracial daughter was 7. We had moved into our new house a month earlier and winter had just taken a break. So, while she was in school, I was doing some winter clean-up yard work. Neighbor from across the street waves. Older man, 70-ish. Crosses the street to speak to me. We introduce ourselves, he points out the house that he lives in and asks me: “Have you noticed a certain element moving into the neighborhood? Right on this block?”

“Certain element” is, of course white-speak for “non-white.”

The school bus driver’s timing was too precious: first graders were let off in front of their homes. My little darling comes skipping up the driveway behind the neighbor. She’s all smiles for mommy. I’m all smiles for her. I take her hand and reply to the neighbor:

“Element? Element? No, other than one old racist white guy, I haven’t seen anything odd. Then I said to my child, pointing to the neighbor’s house: “See that white house across the street? Don’t ever walk in that yard, a very mean old man lives there.” And with rake in one hand and child in the other I turned around and we went inside for an after-school snack. Needless to say, I never spoke to the MF again.

 

What was I born for? Tearful End of Little Kitten After Abandoned by Owner

What are some of the most messed up family secrets?

  • My drug dealing Uncle was found in a hotel room with another drug dealer having homosexual relations by the cleaning lady. They both placed a hit on her life. She was forced to move out of state.
  • Another drug dealing Uncle was caught drug dealing in his car with his children. The police made a deal with him. He snitched on all of the other drug dealers in town in exchange for not being arrested. The police promised to not tell. They lied. A family member had to resettle him in another state with fake identification.
  • A cousin never told the family she was pregnant. Nobody even had the faintest idea until she gave birth. She threatened my grandma with giving the baby up for adoption. My grandma begged her to not make the decision. The great grandchild is now being raised by my Aunt. She looks just like her mother. My cousin won’t acknowledge her.
  • My grandma goes to church with a lady whose husband she used to date and have extramarital affairs. My grandma had us call him Uncle as children. He’s been dead for many years, but my grandma and the lady act like nothing ever happened.
  • My father is the only brother on his side of the family to never deal drugs or go to jail or prison.
  • I’m the only nephew on my father’s side of the family to never go to jail or prison.
  • On both sides of the family, many people have multiple children with multiple partners before marriage. But they mostly all go to church or mosque. And they tend to be overly preachy except for their life decisions.
  • Mental health problems loom large on both sides of the family. One side pretend they don’t exist and claim Jesus is in control. The other side is bat crap crazy and bow at the feet of Minister Farrakhan.
  • My grandma is the only reason everyone comes together for holiday functions. There are solidly formed cliques that hate each other. Some are able to move from clique to clique. Most aren’t.
  • My dad’s side of the family thinks I am a sex freak. The same goes for my mother’s side.

Malted Milk Waffles

WS BC ButtermilkWaffles Day 7 v4
WS BC ButtermilkWaffles Day 7 v4

Ingredients

  • 1/3 cup malted milk powder
  • 2 1/2 cups buttermilk pancake mix
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 2 eggs, separated
  • 1 1/3 cups buttermilk
  • 1/2 cup butter, melted

Instructions

  1. In a large bowl, stir together malted milk powder, pancake mix and granulated sugar.
  2. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form; set aside.
  3. Add egg yolks, buttermilk and butter to dry ingredients; mix well. Fold in egg whites.
  4. Spray preheated waffle iron with nonstick cooking spray. Pour batter onto hot waffle iron. Cook until golden brown.
  5. Serve warm.

What is the most unusual and incorrect reason you’ve had the police called on you?

Not me, but my dad. Pictures in a house can do wonders for calming down a police officer.

My grandmother lived alone in a small town in NH. No police department, just the County Sheriff’s Office for law enforcement. As she was elderly and lived alone in a remote area, she had a check-in system with the Sheriff’s Office. She would call in every morning, just to let them know that she was up and about without any problems. On the rare occasion that she didn’t call early enough, they would call her. That happened every few months.

My parents were up visiting her, when my mom got sick and had to be admitted to the local hospital. The next morning, bright and early, my dad and grandma went to the hospital to see my mom. My grandmother, worried about her daughter in the hospital, forgot to call the Sheriff’s Office.

My mother asked my dad to go back to the house to get her a book. As my dad was walking out of the house, a deputy pulled in the driveway.
Scene: An elderly woman didn’t make her daily call, that she almost never forgot. Said elderly woman doesn’t answer phone when Sheriff’s Office calls. Deputy pulls into driveway, thinking a fall and a broken hip. Strange car with out of state plates in driveway and a stranger walking out of the house.

The deputy gets out, hand on holstered gun, and asks “Who are you and where is Dorothy”. My dad tells him that she is at the hospital, visiting her daughter/his wife. The deputy then asks if he can prove it. Dad tells him that his picture is on the piano. They walked into the house, dad picks up one of the many family pictures on the piano, there he is in a picture with my mom & grandma.

Dad said that was when the deputy finally took his hand off his gun, and radioed in to cancel his backup. The deputy told him that as soon as he saw him walking out, he called in saying he might have a situation and the Sheriff called back letting him know he was on the way.

The funniest part of this story happened years later. There was a family gathering at my grandma’s over Christmas. My nephew hit a deer and totaled his car, no injuries except for Bambi. He called it in, and called grandma’s house to ask if someone could come pick him up. Dad’s car was at the end of the driveway, so he’s elected. He shows up at the accident scene, and as he’s walking up the same deputy looks at him and says “I know you. Your picture is on the piano”.

 

Shuffle dance of Chinese school principal

What is a split-second decision you made that changed your life?

I was a ‘plus 1’ to a wedding reception that I knew no body except my ‘date’.

I really felt only friendship towards this guy and I made it obvious. I was planning on cancelling because I really didn’t want to be in a room full of strangers with a guy who I felt kinda awkward with at this point. But I decided to suck it up because the bride and groom had paid for me and it would have been rude to cancel. The drive up was a nightmare – I was driving and it was pouring – I could barely see. I was getting really annoyed at the guy because he kept talking about how great he was in every single way and also said I could have made more of an effort with dressing up (I had minimum time to get ready since I had worked the morning). 🙄 so I was regretting my decision to attend.

we got there, sat down at the table and that is how I met my husband. He was sat at the same table, we got talking/dancing. He was a twin and I took a chair ribbon to put on him so I knew which one he was. We started dating shortly after, moved in together after a month of dating. We’ve been together 15 years, married 12 and have 4 children.

Me and the bride are still in touch, and sadly another lady I met there and remained friends with-died in her 20s of cancer when our (same age) children were only 2 a few years later. That day changed the entire course of my life for the better. I’m glad I didn’t cancel that crappy date.

 

What is your most interesting encounter with the police?

When my older daughter was a toddler, I took her to a friend’s house for a play group. When we were getting ready to leave, I put my daughter in her car seat and proceeded to open my front door; to my shock, my door immediately swung closed. I was baffled as to why this would have happened.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed that a car had hit my car right where the door hinge was. There were now straight white even lines on my blue car. I took my daughter out of her car seat and rang my friend’s doorbell. I explained that it looked like somebody hit my car and took off.

At this point, my friend’s son piped in. (Keep in mind that this child was also a toddler – he was not yet three years old!) He said “I saw a car hit your car!” When I questioned him about the details, he said it was a white car and he even told us the make and model of this car!

The reason why he was able to do this was because he owned over 500 dinkies and he knew every make and model of every toy car he owned! The child then looked out the window, pointed and announced “There’s the car!” It was parked across the street.

At this point, I called the police to report a hit and run. The police came over pretty quickly and I told him the whole story. After inspecting my car and the car across the street, the officer rang the neighbour’s doorbell.

After denying that he had any knowledge that he hit my car, the police officer made this man back his car right up to where my car was hit. The white lines on my car matched up with the lines on this man’s bumper. Imagine the look on the police officer’s face when I told him that the person who identified the car responsible for this hit and run was a toddler!!!

strong independent woman gets a TRAIN RAN on her and regrets it

I’m married for 30 years. My husband is 63 and I’m 60. He acts more like 73 than 63. He’s very boring and I can’t stand it anymore. What should I do?

I am now very close to 68 years old. when I was 54 my wife was two years older than me and 56. We had been together for 28 years. You will notice that I used past tense. I started to be bothered with her lifestyle compared to mine. She liked to smoke cigarettes and drink beer all day long and I was and am very fit.

She was my soulmate but in 2010 I left her for a while because I didn’t want to watch her grow old and die prematurely. At that time she looked like she was 10 years older and then she was. It didn’t take me very long to find out that I couldn’t live without her and we got back together within a few months, but it was difficult because some damage was done. We were able to overcome our obstacles because of our deep love for each other even though she was still hurting her body through her lifestyle. In 2016, she was diagnosed with a very severe form of COPD. After several tests, we sat in the doctor’s office and she was told that if she changed her lifestyle that day she might live seven years and if she didn’t, she might live four. Two years later, they discovered a mass on her lung. Damage done. On April 20, 2020 she died in my arms at home.

If you’ve been together for 30 years, then you have something. Sometimes you might think it’s boring but when they are gone, it is really boring and awful. I have never forgiven myself for leaving her although maybe someday I will, but for right now I miss her so much.

Hang in there, find things to do to keep yourself from being bored and cherish the people you’re close to including your husband or wife.

 

China leaves West’s financial system? Sells record amount of Dollar Assets. De-Dollarization.

Why did 10 million Americans lose their homes after the 2008 financial crisis?

“Sir, I need a loan to buy my dream home,” says Luigi.

“Do you currently have a job?” asks Mr. Greedy.

“Yes sir, I have a good job!”

“Do you currently own or rent a home?”

“I rent a home. We pay $1,500 per month.”

“Oh, I will be able to help you save so much money!”

“What do you mean, Mr. Greedy?” asks the innocent Luigi.

“Today you pay $1,500 a month. That’s terrible. You’re giving that money away to your landlord. You save zero in equity! Terrible investment, Mr. Luigi,” salivating for his HUGE commissions.

“Well, I know. I hope we can someday qualify for a loan, Mr. Greedy.”

“With our loan, you will pay the bank only $1,300 a month, saving you $200 every month.”

“Wow, that’s like a dream.”

“Mr. Luigi, are you sitting down?”

“Yes, Mr. Greedy. Why?”

You are qualified for a 100% loan, Mr. Luigi! No money down! The bank will give you all the money needed to purchase the house.”

“Really? Really? Wow, this is life-changing news, Mr. Greedy! Every one of my friends that have purchased a home is happy — real estate prices just keep going up!”

“And they will continue to rise, Mr. Luigi. Congratulations!”

“This is a life-changing event! Thank you, Mr. Greedy!”


Now, to answer your question, why did 10 million Americans lose their homes after the 2008 financial crisis?

Remember when you last purchased something with credit?

When we buy something, we’re focused on the satisfaction of the purchase, not on the obligation of the payment we just assumed.

Our behavior as a consumer is easily influenced by emotions and excitement to fill that emotional void with the purchase. This becomes a huge problem in a world where there’s an alarming lack of financial education — people may be deceived or make bad decisions.

I still remember those pre-crisis years. The world was different. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie. The real estate “party” was something nobody wanted to miss. Naturally, millions of Americans were emotionally attracted to the dream while ignoring the future legal and financial demands of their loans.

The banking system was extremely greedy. Banks qualified what are known as subprime mortgages. These are loans granted to individuals with poor credit scores (640 or less, and often below 600), who would normally not be able to qualify for a mortgage.

Mr. Greedy abused many consumers like Luigi, selling too many unqualified mortgages. Now, Luigi purchased his home for $200,000. He qualified for a 100% loan.

Luigi started making payments.

Then, the unexpected happened. In 2006 home prices started to drop. Suddenly Luigi’s $200,000 home was worth $50,000 less.

Luigi faced a decision: pay back the loan for $200,000 or give the home back to the bank.

Like Luigi, millions of Americans were not willing (or able) to pay the mortgage on their unreasonably expensive home anymore.

People stopped making their payments, which triggered defaults.

Now the banks were full of expensive foreclosures in their inventory. Prices kept falling. Nobody was willing to buy them.

The problem quickly spread nationwide.

Meanwhile, financial corporations who owned these junk sub-prime loans stopped receiving payments. This triggered the perfect storm.

A collision of two gigantic “cornerstone” industries of the economy followed.

It was scary … Devastating for millions around the world.

The rest is history …

Will history repeat?

What do you think?

Shorpy

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Jim Mom Jeff 58 DeSoto.preview

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SHORPY 8b29668a.preview

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SHORPY 8c33424a.preview

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Have you ever accidentally touched another person inappropriately? What happened?

Rule of life:

  1. If it is your mistake, no matter, of what age, the person could be, fall back and say sorry.

  2. If it’s not your mistake, no matter, of what age, the person could be, rip him/her off, if the person tries to mess with you.

This is how I lead my life and I got no regrets.


Delhi metro is funny and accommodating at the same time. The other day, some months back, I was late for my office and had to reach Gurugram as soon as possible.

The option of using a cab was haunting me because, at peak hours, the traffic on Jaipur highway tends to intensify.

I landed at AIIMS metro and boarded a metro up to Sikanderpur.

The metro was overcrowded with office people, frustrated with their boss and distance from the offices, even one could say it looking at their faces.

Somehow, I got adjusted in the crowd, have put my earphones on, and started listening to songs.

A girl boarded metro from Saket, New Delhi and was in a hurry.

I understand. People could be in a hurry but there should be a protocol of no panicking because anyway, the metro gonna get the same time for everyone.

She stood opposite to me.

Later, more people boarded the metro from Qutub Minar and she got pushed, in a way that my elbow got pressed with her breasts, and I felt it, I won’t deny, but it was not my mistake.

According to physics and logic, which she lacked, I was stationary and she was acting as an object who interacted with a stationary object.


Someone patted on my shoulder.

She: Hello? Are you desperate?

She shouted loud enough to get the attention.

Me: Excuse me?

She: Dude, watch your elbow. You just tried to press my breasts.


Everyone started to give a look as if I am the harasser here.

I understood, she was wanting fun.

I raised my eyes, came closer and shouted loudly.

Frankly, you lack common sense. I was standing opposite to you and didn’t even notice you standing because you’re not worth looking. You are an attention gainer. You think, boys being a minority in such cases would step back, ask for a sorry even if it doesn’t justify a mistake. You are an arrogant girl who just wants attention.

I can prove it.

Who wears a “Deloitte” hoodie in the month of April?

The temperature is already above 30, and you are wearing a hoodie not because you feel cold but you wanna make everyone realize, I work in one of the best advisory firms.

Get a life.

And about your breasts, I didn’t even feel it.

The last line, if someone could have understood, was kind enough to rip her off and two people started laughing on the last line.

Rest didn’t get it.

Even, she didn’t.

She made a face, turned back and didn’t say anything after that.

She got down at the next station.

After leaving, everyone said: Good, you have at least spoken. It happens a lot in the metro.

Lesson: Zulm karne se, Zulm sehna Jada bara apraadh hai- Bhagwad Geeta.

English: One who harasses is not the bigger criminal, but the one who endures it is the biggest criminal.

Homemade “Maple” Syrup

Homemade Maple Syrup
Homemade Maple Syrup

Ingredients

  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup water
  • 1/2 teaspoon maple flavoring or extract

Instructions

  1. Combine granulated and brown sugar in a saucepan. Add salt and water. Bring mixture to a boil.
  2. Remove from heat. Add maple flavoring or extract.
  3. Cool and serve.

Notes

Use any combination of granulated and/or brown sugar as long as it is two parts sugar to one part water.

If you fell from 14,000 feet without a parachute, where would the safest place possible be to land?

In WW2 my father made a water landing from high enough that he did not notice the shrimp boats at first. Luckily he remembered the training about men hitting water from altitude and the theories about how to survive. He became a dart. Legs were crossed and toes pointed to avoid having the legs ripped in different directions. Chin over the shoulder to avoid having it ripped off. Not looking down to avoid having the face smashed in. Arms tight against the sides. Do not have your butt stick out—be as straight as possible.

He had to take in another breath as the air pressure increased. Once he slowed down in the water he inflated his “Mae West” but the water pressure did not allow it to fully inflate yet. He kept the dart sharp because it worked. He claimed he still went in over his head the third time he hit the water.

The navy’s take was to alter the training about when to leave your parachute during a water landing to avoid getting tangled in the lines and drowning. Instead of jumping out of the harness when you are 10 feet from the water (my hillbilly father thought the Gulf of Mexico looked like the local pond he used to jump into—after all, how big is a wave?) you waited until your toes touch, then jump out.

You shouldn’t do that on purpose since getting a detail wrong results in death.

 

What is the most “illegal” thing you’ve done and gotten away with?

 

I have to go anonymous on this one.

It is the year 1999.

I helped my friend / flat mate escape from jail..

We were in Egypt at the time, and were young and still in university. I am an Egyptian citizen, he on the other hand was a foreigner, and did not have a valid driving license.

For some stupid reason he was driving his friend’s car and got heckled by a pedestrian (who pretended he got hit by the car to scare some cash from the driver, common practice in egypt and some other countries I will not be mentioning that I have been to). Anyway, my friend did not have any cash on him, minutes later police came over and booked him. He managed to call me for help from someone’s cellphone.

That night I went over to the police station, with food for my friend. At that point it was not my intent to help him escape. Anyhow, being an Egyptian, I know how to “grease someone’s hands” to let the food and cigarettes in.

The soldier whom I bribed gave us a couple of minutes while he smoked a cigarette, and there was an open door at the end of the hall. My car is parked close by.

I told him, if you can run to that door, jump over the fence (a shitty low cement fence), I will wait with my car in 2 minutes, and I will take you to the airport.

That is exactly what we did. Took him in my car, stopped by his place which was close by for not more than 30 seconds for his passport, and off to the airport.

I saw him once after that in his country of origin almost 10 years later.

Edit: thank you Gargi for the edit and review. Really appreciate it!

I laughed and laughed!

Range Four Harry

When I was in college I was facing another surgery on my spine. I already had had thee previous surgeries and was depressed about the state of my health. I was having lunch with a girl that I knew who was confined to a wheelchair having her back broken in an auto accident.

She knew about my health problems so we could easily talk about such problems.

I asked her how she was dealing with the “why me”. Her response blew me away and changed my outlook on my life.

She said, “why not you. What makes you feel you are immune to life itself. You cannot always control what happens to you but what you can control is how you deal with the hand you are dealt.”

I was so dumbfounded that I could not answer her. Here was a person who has had it a lot worse than I had and she had a better outlook on life.

I did not fully appreciate what a profound statement she had told me until after my sugery. By this time I had lost contact with her and I was unable to thank her.

I have had about a dozen surgeries since then and I have never felt “why me”, I appreciate the life I have and know that I am a fortunate man to have survived all of this and have had a rewarding career and an incredible marriage to an amazing woman.

Fun Comics

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About thirty years ago, my wife worked in the cafeteria in a hospital. It was the hospital’s policy at the time to raise your hourly pay to $10 per hour (usually from around $7) when you had been there for 10 years. The cafeteria was subject to this rule, but owned by an outside company. The outside company decided that firing folks who had been there for ten years seemed like a good loophole, so they told her that her last day would be a week or so before her tenth anniversary. Then, on her last night (she worked the third shift by herself), her boss magnamously offered to let her work two more nights – to train her replacement. She told him to fornicate himself, but then agreed to finish her last scheduled shift.

Then, as soon as he left, she cooked several prime rib roasts, salmon, and shrimp that were meant for a hospital board dinner a few days later, and sent a message to all departments:

“D’s going away party, everyone eats free!”

Even the patients ate well!

We heard later that the board only found out why she – and many others – had been fired was because they ended up eating grilled chicken instead of prime rib, and dug until they found out why. Folks got fired, my wife and several others got retroactive severance pay.

Our Alien Overlords | How We Secretly Serve The Tall Whites

For your enjoyment and background.

The Tall White Aliens: We Work for Them Charles Hall, a former weather observer at Nellis Air Force Base, shares his incredible story of encountering the Tall Whites, an extraterrestrial species working with the US military. These chalk-white aliens, standing up to 9 feet tall, have been influencing human technology and evolution for decades. Charles’s friendship with a Tall White known as “The Teacher” led him to discover hidden alien facilities and the shocking truth about their presence on Earth. Uncover the secrets of the Tall Whites, from their advanced scout crafts to their underground bases, and explore the startling implications of their alliance with the US government and the hidden reality of alien-human cooperation.

Not terminated but I was quitting, a few years ago my brother and I worked at home depot, we were on the M.E.T. team (merchandising execution team). If you don’t know the M.E.T. team are the ones in the orange shirts that set the bays to plan, build displays make sure everything is stocked ectopic. Well since met is corporate and not store employees then met is not supposed to drop pallets for store associates and vice versa, so if you need a pallet down from the overhead you needed to get a M.E.T. associate that was certified to operate the fork lift, of which there were two. Those two were my brother and I.

So most of our days were go to this isle drop a pallet for person 1, one of us would flag and one would operate the fork lift and we would switch of occasionally, then we’d go to that isle and drop a pallet for person 2, then go over there and drop a pallet for person 3 and so on, usually by the time we dropped a pallet for everyone the first few had finished and needed another pallet so we would continue on.

We both truly loved our jobs because we spent the day essentially hanging out, driving a fork lift and spending time with our best friend. Until our boss was fired. A new boss came in and decided that my brother and I needed to be separated because even though we were getting all our work done we were “having to much fun” well she spent the next 6 months trying to have us on separate projects (which usually didn’t work because we were the only 2 that could use the fork lift and no one else on the team wanted to learn).

Well after separating us didn’t work she decided to fire us, well we were exemplary workers besides our having fun so she needed a paper trail and started writing us up for everything and anything (I once got written up for something I said off the clock across the street at the bar, I made a innuendo joke much like one of the hundreds you would see in a pg movie, it really wasn’t that inappropriate. But I didn’t know a coworker was there to report on us to her and she said that because I was still in uniform which let me remind you is an orange SHIRT that I represented the company and it wasn’t appropriate to make that type of joke)

Well after a few months of this my brother and I had enough so we put out feelers for different jobs, almost immediately a different ex boss of ours contacted my brother and offered us jobs on the spot which we accepted. So we called our regional manager and gave our two weeks to which she asked us to try and leave the store in a way that our absence wouldn’t hurt the remaining team. Well we knew that meant training more people on the fork lift, which our manager absolutely refused to let us do. She said that since we were leaving she wasn’t going to let us do ant job where we could sabotage the team so for the last two weeks she had us sorting screws, the pallets piled up with no one to pull them down for two weeks and by the time we left there was very little room anywhere in the store for new pallets, meanwhile there was no product to stock because the pallets were all in the over head so most of the shelves in the store were bare, we tried to help by dropping a few pallets but our boss caught us, wrote us up, and sent us back to sort screws. So we did.

We left with our heads high and not caring that there would be a reckoning for not having any pallets brought down for two weeks. And boy was there. We went back a week later to do some shopping and our boss had been fired.

She tried telling our regional manager that we refused to train anyone and also refused to pull pallets down, a couple people on the team “verified” her story. Than our regional manager came to the store to talk to store associates to see what happened and they told her the truth(my brother and I were liked by most of the store associates because we were always helping then out, even if it meant we might get in trouble) she heard the full story and checked the cameras and saw our boss was lying. So she was fired immediately. And it took a few months for them to catch back up.

Women Disrespecting Men & Getting Instantly Dumped For 25 Minutes

Watch it.

Want a big laugh

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main qimg 3665869068afb9314b8919b7a2fc2b1e

I knew we weren’t rich… but I never knew we were poor until one moment.

My parents had split and just like change that slips away forever into couch cushions, the minor extravagances of my childhood started disappearing.

The cable…

The fast food…

The car.

My Mom was like Maria in The Sound of Music. No material? I’ll just make clothes out of these drapes kind of resourcefulness that never let on that we were barely scraping by.

We’d walk down the hill to catch a bus across town so my mom could teach music.

That stroller, I remember it so well – yellow, floral, the kind of thing you get as a gift when you’re not sure if it’s a boy or a girl. I remember holding the handle so tightly as not to watch my 3-year-old sister and 1-year-old brother roll away.

But even then, in that moment, somehow… I didn’t think we were poor.

That realization only hit when, a few years later, my Mom, in response to post-Christmas “I wish I would have got” griping said the words that are forever etched in my mind:

“I only had $15 to spend on Christmas for you four kids.”

$15.

That’s not some passing, semi-serious statement like, “I’m so broke” or “I’ve got no money”.

It was exact… and that’s what made it so startling. $15.

It turns out that the pastor of our church helped out that year. So that’s why I ended up getting a G.I. Joe figure in my stocking instead of an orange.

That number was anchored in my mind and helped to mute the entitled gripes I was assuredly scheduled to have. I became more resourceful; I realized that anything near that number was a sacrifice, and that my mother, even in that moment of weakness, was the strongest person I’d ever met.

Your best chance to survive is to leave the room, either by the door or by jumping out of a window.

If there are no windows, you are on the 5th floor, or it’s not safe outside, you should do one of the following things:

  • get behind some furniture.
  • place something between you and the grenade, for example, a flak jacket or a backpack.
  • turn yourself away from the grenade, get flat on the ground (only if there’s enough distance between you and the grenade, at least five feet), hide your head between your arms, and cover your ears.

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main qimg 731c4b6ef9db6d3c58bdcceca3e43072 lq

In 1996, a mentally ill person threw a hand grenade into a church in Frankfurt, Germany. Three people were injured. The picture demonstrates the power of the explosion and what it did to the wooden furniture. (Photo: Frankfurter Rundschau)

If you think there’s enough time for it, you can try to kick the grenade in a corner where it causes less damage. Instead of your foot, however, you should use your rifle butt. Someone in the room with you might even have the guts to throw the grenade out of there.

Those are split-second decisions, based on experience and very good situational awareness. If you are new to combat, I wouldn’t recommend doing it.

China’s New Tech Warfare| an AI Chip Introduced to POWER Hypersonic Weapon

China has once again outdone itself in the realm of hypersonic technology. That’s right, China makes headlines in hypersonic once again – but this time, there’s something extremely interesting going on that has the tech enthusiasts scratching their heads. Using low costs AI computer chips, hypersonic weapons have powered up significantly, ensuring China’s strong position on the Hypersonic throne.

A few years back, I walked on into my local Panera Bread craving a turkey sandwich something fierce.

I ordered that turkey sandwich on rye bread with Swiss cheese, bacon, lettuce, onion, and tomato.

What I got… a turkey sandwich on white bread with some kind of neon green avocado paste that, I swear to all that’s holy, looked like boogers.

It was a to-go order that I intended to eat in my car because the modern acid jazz music they play in there is blasphemous to a person like me that worships the genre.

I had to walk back in and explain that I received the wrong sandwich. The female manager walked over, flipped the sandwich open, and -no joke- said to me “hmm, that looks good. You sure you don’t want it? I’m over on my food costs and can’t afford to have any more mistakes.”

I was floored. Since when is it my problem they were making a lot of mistakes that were costing the store money, and I told her that, too. I was shaking and on the verge of tears. I asked to please just have what I ordered so I could be on my way.

The manager picked up the incorrect sandwich and said to me that she would be eating it on her break because “there was nothing wrong with it and no reason you couldn’t have eaten it”, then went in the back.

I wouldn’t be eating it, and didn’t have to, because it wasn’t what I goddamn ordered.

I was even more floored because, first of all, that sandwich left the store for two minutes before I brought it back. She didn’t know me. I could’ve wiped my ass with it for all she knew. But she was going to eat it.

The employees that remade my (correct) sandwich laughed at her and her ridiculous reaction the whole time. They apologized for her and threw extra chips and baguettes in my bag. It was amusing and made up for that crappy experience.

It was a typical 10 year old assignment, write a persuasive letter to you parents to convince them on something. Most kids chose getting a phone, some a dog or a new bike. Except one girl, who we’ll call Amy.

I was skimming though them, checking for mistakes for them to correct next lesson before the the follow up (write your parents reply, this was changed due to Amy’s letter) That’s when I saw her one.

This it it paraphrased

Dear Mum,

I am writing to ask for some changes…I would like you to stop drinking.

I would like this because when you drink you change. It scares me when you hit me…..and when you bring home your boyfriend he hits me too.

Maybe if you stopped earlier Daddy wouldn’t have left, I know I’m his little girl but he doesn’t come anymore and he says it’s your fault.

It went on longer, tears came to my eyes, she was such a bright, bubbly girl I never suspected anything. I was angry, why doesn’t her dad protect her, I was sad, she doesn’t relise it’s not normal.

A few days later she came in with a large bruise on her face. At break I called her back to talk to her. Then she let everything out, how her dad won’t come back until her mum stops drinking, how each night her mum gets back early in the morning with a new guy. How she sometimes sleeps in bus shelters or bushes to avoid her mum.

I talked to the headteacher and we called a meeting with her mum, on the day if it Amy wasn’t in school, her mum didn’t show up. Amy never came back, I went to her house but it was abandoned and a neighbour told me that they left for London. I panicked and by some miracle tracked them down. I found Amy alone in the flat, I waited with her until her mum returned. After talking it though with her and social services I’m fostering Amy until her mum is ready to look after her. They see each other every other weekend now and her mums nearly out of rehab. Amy’s just started secondary school and loving it.

I hope they can be reunited soon and live better lives together.

My family was on a cross country trip with a trailer and nine people. One Sunday morning we were on a country road in Alabama when came upon a woman and her three children standing next to a car with a flat tire. Of course we stopped and my brother and I changed the tire for her. She told us that she was on her way to church. She wanted to pay us, but we told her to put the money in the church collection.

That evening we told the story to a family at the trailer park. When we mentioned that the family was black, the father, in front of his children said, the “you should never help a nigger *”. My father told him he was a “shameful human “ and walked away.

Just another example of hate, but also another example of why I admired my father.

** this is a quote, I never use that word

Yes, I was walking after dinner and I saw a man beating his wife and child. I was furious and did not think straight. I grabbed the man and threw him up against the car (I was in the military) and held him until the police came. The wife and child were taken to the hospital and treated for their injuries. A month later I got a subpoena to appear in court for assault. His lawyer attested that since I was in the military and trained in hand-to-hand combat I could have “killed his client.” I was dumbfounded. Fortunately, the public defender had copies of the hospital records showing the injuries he had inflicted on his wife and daughter and the solitary bruise I had left from pinning him to the car. Yes, the case was dismissed but I was furious at him for a while.

Years later a woman came up to me and said “You don’t remember me do you?” I said no I did not. She said “You saved me from my husband killing me and his daughter and now he is in prison and we are finally free. Thank you for being brave.” Yes, I started crying immediately!!

Baked Chicken and Dumplings

Chicken and Dumplings 1 1200
Chicken and Dumplings 1 1200

Key Ingredients

  • Whole chicken: I simmer a whole chicken with aromatics for about 1 hour, which produces the most delicious chicken broth and tender, moist chicken. Once you try chicken and dumplings this way, you’ll never go back. I use the same process to make our easy chicken broth.
  • Aromatics: For the classic broth, we add an onion top (the part you usually throw away — you can see what I mean by looking at our photos or watching the video), carrot, celery, garlic, bay leaves, peppercorns, thyme, and salt.
  • Self-rising flour: I use self-rising flour for the drop dumplings. Baking powder and salt have already been added, making the dumpling batter so easy! If you do not have it, I have included a DIY version in the tips section of the recipe.
  • Milk: I use whole milk, which brings our dumpling batter together and helps make them tender.
  • Butter: Adds flavor and keeps the dumplings moist.
  • Spices: I add ground pepper, a bit of extra salt, and fresh parsley to the dumpling batter.

How to Make Chicken and Dumplings From Scratch

You can break this cozy classic chicken and dumplings recipe into 3 easy steps.

Make broth and cook the chicken. For the best homemade chicken and dumplings, we make the broth ourselves (it’s so worth it and is much easier than you might think). By making the broth ourselves, we also gently cook the chicken, which guarantees juicy and tender chicken meat for our soup (it takes about 1 hour). If you are short on time, I have included a speedier option using store-bought broth below.

Make the soup. Since we make our chicken broth, making the soup for this recipe is quick and easy. After straining our homemade broth, we add chopped carrot, celery, and the shredded cooked chicken (from cooking the broth).

Make the drop dumpling batter. This Southern-style recipe uses drop dumplings (similar to drop biscuits). We make a somewhat wet dumpling batter and then drop it by the spoonful into simmering broth, where they steam in the broth (about 15 minutes).

When cooking the dumplings, keep these things in mind:

  1. Drop your dumplings into gently simmering broth with a spoon or cookie scoop, and don’t worry if the pot looks crowded. Depending on your pot shape, you might even have a few dumplings on top of each other.
  2. If the dumplings fully cover your soup, use a spoon to make a small hole in the middle to allow steam and some of the simmering bubbles to release.
  3. So that they cook perfectly, the dumplings need to steam, so cover the pot with its lid.
  4. Keep the pot at a gentle simmer when cooking the dumplings. An aggressive simmer or boiling will break them apart. Keep the heat low and cover the pot so that they steam. The dumplings can cook longer than the suggested times without issues, but agitating them with an aggressive simmer will make them fall apart.

The batter for these dumplings is very similar to the batter for our easy drop biscuits. I love how light and fluffy the drop-style dumplings turn out. They also make the soup thicker and creamier since some batter will ultimately fall into the broth and help thicken it. We also have a this recipe for more traditional biscuits, but I’d keep those for dipping into the broth, not for cooking on top.

Chicken and Dumplings In Dutch Oven 3 1200
Chicken and Dumplings In Dutch Oven 3 1200

Storing and Make Ahead Tips

Homemade chicken and dumplings are at their best when fresh, but you can store them in the fridge for a couple of days and gently reheat them. The dumplings will be slightly more moist and might fall apart, but the flavors will all be there. We do not recommend freezing them.

To cut down on the preparation time of the recipe, you can make the broth and chicken up to three days in advance. Then, when you are ready to serve, reheat the broth, add your carrots and celery, and then make your dumpling batter.

Chicken and Dumplings In Dutch Oven 1200
Chicken and Dumplings In Dutch Oven 1200

You Will Need

Chicken and Broth1 whole chicken, about 4 pounds

1 onion top, see notes

1 garlic clove, smashed

1 large carrot

2 stalks celery

3 bay leaves

8 whole peppercorns

1 tablespoon fine sea salt

12 to 14 cups (3 liters) water

1 bunch fresh thyme

Dumplings2 ½ cups (325g) self-rising flour, see notes

8 twists black pepper

3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1 ½ cups (350ml) whole milk

1/4 cup (60g) butter, melted

Directions

    • Make Broth and Cook Chicken

1Cut a 3-inch section of the carrot, about 1/4 the size of the whole carrot, and set aside. Chop the remaining carrot into small cubes. Cut a 4-inch piece of celery stalk and set aside with the carrot. Chop the remaining celery into small cubes. Save the chopped carrot and celery for later.

2Place the chicken, breast facing up, in a large pot (we use a 9-quart Dutch oven). Then, toss the 1/4 carrot, 4-inch piece of celery, onion top, smashed garlic clove, bay leaves, peppercorns, and a tablespoon of salt around the chicken.

3Pour in 12 to 14 cups of water, depending on the size of your pot. In the video, we used 14 cups. It is okay if the chicken is not fully covered; an inch or so of chicken breast above the water is okay.

4Cover the pot with a lid, turn the heat to medium-high, and bring to a simmer. Once the broth is at a simmer, reduce it so that it’s a gentle simmer — the bubbles should be slowly dancing around in the pot.

5Cook at a gentle simmer for 50 minutes. Peek under the lid occasionally to see if the heat needs to be reduced.

6After 50 minutes, the broth will be aromatic, and the chicken will be cooked through (you can test this with an internal temperature thermometer — it should read above 165 °F).

7Carefully transfer the chicken to a plate and allow it to cool until you can handle it.

8Strain the broth, wipe any foam stuck to the sides of the pot, and then pour the strained broth back into the pot used to make it. Place the pot back over medium heat, add the thyme, chopped carrots, and chopped celery.

 

    • Finish Chicken and Dumplings

1When it is cool enough to handle, shred the chicken by hand, removing all the bones and skin. Shred as big/little as you like. We keep the chicken in larger pieces.

2To make the dumpling batter, melt the butter. In a medium bowl, stir the flour, pepper, salt, parsley, milk, and melted butter until mixed.

3Remove the thyme from the soup, scraping a few leaves off the bundle as you remove it.

4Stir the shredded chicken and any juices left on the plate into the soup.

5Bring the broth to a gentle simmer, and then use a spoon to scoop golf ball-sized portions of the batter into the soup, scraping them off with your finger. (If you have a large cookie scoop, scoop balls of batter into the soup.) Do this until all the batter is in the soup — it will look crowded. Some might sink.

6Cover with a lid and cook the dumplings at a low simmer for 5 to 7 minutes or until they look like they are firming up on the bottom. Then, carefully turn each one over to simmer the other side. If there’s no space for the liquid to bubble up past the dumplings, use a spoon and make a small hole in the middle of the pot.

7Once they are all turned over, simmer over low heat with the lid on for another 8 to 10 minutes. You can test a dumpling to check they are done — The center should look cooked through and fluffy, not doughy. When cooking the dumplings, keep the pot at a gentle simmer. An aggressive simmer or boiling will break them apart. Keep the heat low and keep your pot covered so that they steam. The dumplings can cook longer than the suggested times without issues, but agitating them with an aggressive simmer will make them fall apart.

 

Adam and Joanne’s Tips

  • Onion top: We are only looking for a mild onion flavor in our broth. Slice an onion at the top, keeping the skins on. Use the top (what you would normally throw away) to make the broth, and save the onion for another recipe. You can also use a 1-inch slice of onion in its place.
  • Self-rising flour: Unlike all-purpose flour, self-rising flour adds baking powder and salt. For 2 ½ cups of homemade self-rising flour (what you need for this recipe), whisk 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour with 3 ¾ teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt.
  • Pot size: The perfect size for this recipe is a 9-quart Dutch oven, which is large enough to make the broth and cook all the dumplings. I have also used a 7 ½-quart Dutch oven with this recipe and found that I could only fit 12 cups of water with my chicken. If you don’t have either of these, make sure the pot is large enough to hold at least 12 cups of water with the chicken.
  • Shortcut: I highly recommend the homemade broth, but if you are short on time, use 10-12 cups of store-bought broth. Bring your chicken broth to a low simmer, and add chopped carrot and celery. Stir in 3 to 4 cups of shredded cooked chicken. Make the dumpling batter and cook by gently simmering them covered with a lid, per our instructions above.
  • The nutrition facts provided below are estimates.
Nutrition Per ServingServing Size1/6 of the recipe/Calories501/Total Fat14.4g/Saturated Fat7g/Cholesterol136.8mg/Sodium1599.2mg/Carbohydrate48.7g/Dietary Fiber3.8g/Total Sugars4.1g/Protein42.4g
AUTHOR:  Adam and Joanne Gallagher
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My father was hospitalized with heart and diabetes complications. He had to have a heart triple by pass surgery. There were complications and he was in intensive care for 3 days, near death. In the evening of the first night, I stayed at the hospital. My mother and daughter went to my parents home for the night. A neighbor was babysitting my daughters 2 month old daughter, there at the home. My mom, daughter and the baby went to bed soon after returning to the home. My parents lived along a golf course that was heavily lighted at night. There was always light fading into the rooms, even with the drapes drawn.

My daughter woke up at 3 am and saw a blond woman from the back. She thought it was me, standing beside her daughters small, travel crib. The figure, who was my height and shape, was staring down at the sleeping baby. She was dressed in a white robe, similar to one that I wore. My daughter then said that she whispered, Mom what’s the matter? Is the baby okay? And then the woman turned and faded away. My daughter said she saw her face briefly. She looked fully human. The woman or figure was only a few feet from where my daughter lay in bed. My daughter said she got up and walked into the bedroom that I was using and I wasn’t there. She then stayed awake, with the lights on the rest of the night.

Around 5 am I went to my moms home to rest. My dad had become more stable. When I got home my daughter told me about the incident. I took out some old photo albums and asked her to look and see if she could find a similar face. My dads mom died when he was 18 and in the Army. She was 43 at her death, which was near my age at that time. My daughter and I had never seen these photos before. My dads sister had recently sent them from across the country. My daughter picked out a photo of my dad in his army uniform standing beside his mother. She did look like me.

We think his mom was with us, just to watch over him and his great grand daughter, his little one. We had one more incident like this. He survived this surgery and 9 years later died of complications of heart disease, diabetes and dementia. In the nursing home,a CNA said to me,the last morning of his life,you’re back so soon. I lived a few hours away and had just driven there. I guess, early that morning a woman who looked like me,was in his room for a moment. The CNA saw her from the back,leaning over his bed,as she walked down the hall, and had glanced in his room. It was not me. At that time he was in the fetal position,and he died later that morning. I leaned over his bed as I told him to go with mama. I really think his mother was there. I held his hand and he died. I really believe that his mother took him home. It was as if he left his body. I knew he was embraced in love and at Peace.

US Politicians Have Lost Their Mind Over the Latest Chinese Tech

While the Media is discussing China and the TikTok ban, there is something much bigger at stake. US and China have been working together in biotech for decades but now US politicians want to ban US scientists from working together with their Chinese counterparts. What impact does this have on the future of American healthcare? Does the US actually need Chinese biotech? Let’s break it down

“My son doesn’t need an education, he is going to work in the mines and drive a truck. He doesn’t need to know all this crap.” Said by the parent of an extremely bright 6th grade student (11 years old) in front of him to his teachers, administration and support staff.

My response, “What happens if Erik doesn’t want to be a truck driver at a mine?”

Dad: “Tough, it is a good job, good wages and benefits. I don’t want to be taking care of him his whole life.”

My response, “Erik, do you like mining.” (Mining is a major industry here)

Erik, “Yes.”

Me: “Do you want to drive heavy equipment?”

Erik, “Maybe but probably not.”

Me: “What do you want to do at the mine?”

Erik: “I want to be a mining engineer, a metallurgist.”

Dad: “What is the hell is that, sounds like a pansy job.”

Me: “It is actually a wonderful job that takes a lot of work, intelligence and one that keeps you employed.” (Dad obviously works at a mine.)

Me: “Erik, you know that takes a lot of math and science as well as at least 5 years of college, right?”

Erik: “Yes, but I could do it.”

Me, “Dad, he needs this education, needs to be to school every day, do his work, and be able to focus on his future possibilities.”

Dad: “Bullsh*t, I need him at home taking care of his brothers and sisters.”

Yea. Erik is still not going to school as often he should, however, he works harder knowing he can do whatever needs to after he leaves home. He is focused on becoming an engineer. He even contacted a couple of the mines and asked if they have educational programs for college assistance. He is lined up with one that has him working as a laborer and taking classes. If he gets a B or better they pay for the classes, if he can’t afford to pay up front, they pay it and take it out in installments from his checks. When he gets a degree, they have a job waiting for him and he needs to work for them for at least 2 years. Hopefully it will work out. Dad is still a jerk, still finds ways to make it hard for Erik to surpass his own education and job title. It is like he is intimidated that his son could do better. Most parents are thrilled when their kids do better. Not this guy.

China is with world at large to form a new way forward. That the world favours considerably more than the present enslavement to the U.S. method! One that the U.S. cannot do anything about.

I is welcomed as a nation and not the nation which it does not like but it inevitably will dwindled into whether it. Likes it or not! No one cause this but the U.S. themselves since it abused the power that it gained to the point that everyone wants out. If you steal money kept in INTERNATIONAL bank, The world will want to collectively take it out.

if you could and constantly manipulated the real value if the dollar people will want to dump it all together. If you set up rules as you go along to advantage yourself it us a matter of time that people don’t want to have anything with your rules or better still get as far away from you as one can!

Yes everyone wants out of your orbit. China happened to be the biggest of them all. You should have thought about the consequences when you did barbarism on Russia!

Please don’t waste your life

Feudalism 2.0

Wet crotch bike ride

I’ll tell you a trick to watch out for on western media. It’s like clockwork.

The less reporting there is on it, the less western goals are being met.

Reporting on Ukraine is at a trickle and they’re just repeating the usual tropes that westerners buy over and over again. We had SUPERIOR ARYAN TECH but the Asiatic inferior hordes beat us!

The lack of reporting can be seen in multiple instances:

Hong Kong, where I live. Once the protests became violent (around June 2019) reporting slowed down. By September 2019 reporting in the western world became a trickle as the wide spread violence couldn’t be covered up. By October 2019 I had friends in the UK asking me if I was ok as all coverage had stopped. This was when people were being set on fire for disagreeing and bombs were going off in Hong Kong. This is why many of them haven’t heard of the bombing campaign and insist the riots were completely peaceful. They didn’t get to see much reporting after November 2019.

I literally humiliated one of my stalkers Ah Meng and his alt account when he said bombs were widely reported on! I then mentioned an actual bomb attack that he never heard of and his PEACEFUL protestors narrative collapsed 😀 😀 😀

The same with Afghanistan and Iraq. Once the tide turned? Western regime media simply stopped reporting on it.

Apple Stuffed Chicken Breasts

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88ebee9c4b89c693b8b38b0b65123641

Ingredients

  • 4 boneless chicken breasts
  • 3 slices bacon, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 scallions, finely chopped
  • 1 apple, peeled and chopped
  • Pepper to taste
  • Salt to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon thyme
  • 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil

Instructions

  1. Cut a small pocket into the thickest part of each chicken breast and set aside.
  2. Fry bacon until crisp. Drain on a paper towel. Add garlic and scallions to the bacon drippings; sauté slightly.
  3. Add apple, pepper, salt and thyme and return the bacon bits to pan. Heat thoroughly. Remove from heat and cool.
  4. When mixture is cool, add cheese and stuff into chicken breast. Brown chicken on both sides in a very hot fry pan with olive oil.
  5. When brown on both sides, place in a baking dish and bake at 350 degrees F for 15 to 20 minutes or until chicken is done.

Men Are Done Being The Punching Bag

Yes they are. Systemic male bashing at all levels has created the beginnings of a angry tide of men…

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  1. 70% of people like old songs because of the memories attached to them.
  2. When a person dies, they have 7 minutes of brain activity left, it’s the mind playing back the person’s memories in a dream sequence.
  3. Psychology says that playing video games makes you more creative.
  4. Most people type faster when there’s someone they like.
  5. You appear more attractive to a person when you make them laugh or smile.
  6. 80% of women choose silence to express pain. You should know she is truly hurt when she chooses to ignore you.
  7. People with sarcastic personalities are more honest with their friends.
  8. Overthinking is a special form of fear. It gets even more dangerous when anticipation, memory, emotion and imagination are added together.
  9. The average woman smiles 60 times a day. An average man smiles only 10 times a day.
  10. When people refuse to tell you what’s wrong, you tend to think that it’s probably your fault.
  11. Intelligent men and women are more easily annoyed by people in general.
  12. Women and men experience the same kind of emotions but women are more honest with them.
  13. Life becomes more meaningful when you understand the fact that you will not get the same moment twice in your life.
  14. What we wear tends to affect how we behave.
  15. Introverts tend to have more thinking capabilities than extroverts.
  16. Eat bananas, because bananas contain a special chemical which can make a person happy.
  17. Pretending not to care is the habit of those who care the most.
  18. Pretending not to care is the habit of those who care the most.
  19. When you become really close to someone, you can hear their voices in your head when you read their text.
  20. Being sarcastic can add upto 3 years in your life.
  21. Appreciating someone can boost their confidence and motivate them to do better things in life.
  22. Following the above point if you appreciate this answer, it will boost my confident.

Vintage comics

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10 REAL Reasons Why I Left the United States (and you should too)

Welcome to the club, buddy.

It is an evil state, and seems like it pretty much always was with its stealing of American Indian land (Lebenscraum and genocide), stealing of Mexican land, occupying Hawaii, its black slaves, its indentured servants. Andrew Jackson and wilson were a horrible bigot. It was not failed but so very evil, doing pretty much every evil thing that it accused other countries of doing. But failed no.

But that was until recently. Its presidents have done some amazing things to make the United States the imperial power it has been for most of its history, and for the last 80 years the global hegemon, trampling the French and British empires. Now it is desparately trying to hold on to its global hegemony, but China has the same advantage that almost guranteed the United States becoming the global hegemon and that is populatiion. The United States had so much larger a poulation than that other western nations that there was not competetion given that is large population led to the largest GDP. Now China has managed to overcome what has held it back for a couple of centuries and its population of four times the United States has led it to having the biggest economy in the world (GPD PPP), and its leadership seems to be a lot more competent than the Amerian leadership ever was. All China needs is to have a GDP per capita of a quarter of the United States, and it will far surpass the United States in GDP PPP just because a dollar will go a lot further in an economy where the GDP per capita is a quarter of another economy. Russia is doing fine because China is not sanctioning it. Iran seems to be doing OK also. The Chinese economy is just too strong for the Americans to use thier economic power to crush countries that China will support, and the US cannot crush China because the Chinese economy is bigger than the United States, and China is very rich in resources so it could handle any attempt to control it through controlling resources like the US (and UK) did to Germany, Japan, and so many other countries.

Economically, China may not yet be the global hegemon, but neither is the United States. But China is stronger economically.

It will take a while, but with the econonimc advantage China is gaining over the United States, the political power of the United States will deminish, and American stupidity is just accelerating this fall. I cannot think of a single win the United States has had internatinally in that last eight years, and there are many disasters, especially under that idiot Biden.

Politically it appears that the US has lost it hegemony, and bad international decisions of the the last decade have have hurt the respect for American dipolmacy with first a loss in Vietnam, and then the losses in Afghanistan and Iraq. Also effectivley Libya and Syria have been loses. then to stupidly push Russia into a war with Ukraine, and even more stupidly not to clamp down on the Israeli genocide in the Gaza.

The US seems to have lost any ability to declare moral high ground, which it really never had in the first place, but it is run by some of the best liar in the world given that its political system is perfect for selecting the best liars given that a beleivable lie is probably more likely to get you elected than the truth, and the best liar is going to win elections. China and Russia just cannot compete with the ability of the Americans to lie. But the Chinese are very smart, much smarter than the Americans, and if you ever listen to thier arguments you will hear excellent logic against American emotionalism. China also very much values wisdom, something the west does not understand any more than it understands how to be honorable, or trustworthy.

San Francisco today 2024

Not my parents, but my father alone.

My older brother committed suicide when I was in my late teens; he was 21 at the time.

I periodically visit his memorial; I’ve been once or twice with other family and my father. Visits tend to be emotional, but the pain clears after some time – different people grieve in different ways.

I hadn’t been to my brothers grave for a long time – years. I felt I’d had closure – not forgotten, but forgiven as it were. I’d moved on, in a way.

One day I was driving past the cemetery and thought, simply I’d go and say “hi,” – I could barely remember what the plaque looked like. As I got closer, I saw someone standing right by where I was heading. I backed off, I thought I’d give them respectful space.

Some time passed, and the person turned – he had a flower in his hand, and he was exiting the area of the garden away from me. I recognised his gait, and I don’t know why I hadn’t picked up on it earlier – I guess I just wasn’t expecting it or something, but I knew my Dad – it was definitely him. He was too far away, and I awkwardly didn’t want to shout out to him – I called his phone. The distant figure pulled his mobile out, looked at it, and cut the call.

He put his flower in the garbage can, leaned heavily on it and heaved his shoulders. Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Nothing in my life at that moment has alarmed or disturbed me so much – my father who I love deeply, the pain he feels at the loss of a son. I saw something that day that cut me in two. Defeat? Whatever it was, it was painful for both of us.

We’ve talked about it – that day in fact. He told me he didn’t take my call because he was too raw – sometimes it happens I guess. He’s angry sometimes at my brother but more often himself; he feels despondent and worthless sometimes – a father who buried a son.

I wish I never had to see my parents (either of them) like that, ever.

Shorpy Images from the past

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Moms NUDE Photos Used To Heckle HER SON Ahead Of His Basketball Game

Only Fans girls TAKE NOTICE.

China experts, explain away.

I must say this is a sophisticated piece of infographic that’s out of reach for the average keyboard warrior.

BTW, Bertelsmann Stiftung is a well funded German NGO, and owner of Bertelsmann, a 15b Euro media conglomerate and one of the world’s largest.

Not too dissimilar from Ikea and Rolex being registered as charities.

Isn’t that nuts?

Dead by Cancer

“My name is Sonia Todd, and I died of cancer at the age of 38. I decided to write my own obituary because they are usually written in a couple of different ways that I just don’t care for. Either, family or friends gather together, and list every minor accomplishment from cradle to grave in a timeline format, or they try and create one poetic last stanza about someone’s life that is so glowing one would think the deceased had been the living embodiment of a deity.

The truth, or my version of it, is this: I just tried to do the best I could. Sometimes I succeeded, most of the time I failed, but I tried. For all of my crazy comments, jokes and complaints, I really did love people. I didn’t always do the right thing or say the right thing and when you come to the end of your life those are the things you really regret, the small simple things that hurt other people.

Some folks told me that writing my own obituary was morbid, but I think it is great because I get a chance to say thank you to all the people who helped me along the way. Those who loved me, assisted me, cared for me, laughed with me and taught me things so that I could have a wonderful, happy life. I was blessed beyond measure by knowing all of you. That is what made my life worthwhile.

If you think of me, and would like to do something in honor of my memory do this:

– Volunteer at a school, church or library.

– Write a letter to someone and tell them how they have had a positive effect on your life.

– If you smoke – quit.

– If you drink and drive – stop.

– Turn off the electronics and take a kid out for ice cream and talk to them about their hopes and dreams.

– Forgive someone who doesn’t deserve it.

– Stop at all lemonade-stands run by kids and brag about their product.

– Make someone smile today if it is in your power to do so.”

News you won’t read about in the West.

I saw my parents crying.

I was in standard second, just eight years when I saw tears trickling down my father’s cheek. I do not remember any other childhood memory of that age, but I remember this. And probably this will haunt me all my life.

That year, we had a great downfall in business. Without mentioning the details, I would just mention finally the business was shut down.

After that, every now and then, investors would come to our home and ask my father to repay them back.

It was one such day, when I saw this happening.

One investor was at home for the same cause. His words were so sharp and his demands too high that probably break down my father. My mother with tears in her own eyes was consoling him. While I hid inside the kitchen watching, afraid to move.

That day I saw my parents break down, for money. And I wish no other child sees it.

I wonder today, did my parents cry when finally we shifted from a cosy apartment to a small quarter which had seepage everywhere.

“There is a big ground in front of the quarters. You can play, my mother said.”

It was enough for me and my brother to shift in happily, but did my parents cry again?

Did my parents cry when they needed to sell whatever little gold jewellery my mom had?

Did my parents cry when sometimes I would bring a result suspended due to non payment of fees notice from school?

Did my parents cry when my brother gave my father a 100 rupees from his piggy bank(all in coins) to take me to the doctor when I was sick.

Did they cry when dad got an angioplasty not because of smoking or drinking(he never does) but due to stress(doctors say)? Well, I cried all night.

Did they cry when my mom acquired hypertension?

I do not know.

Today they have rebuilt their little world. And say let bygones be bygones.

My parents are my support system. I have neither too many close friends( I have two to be precise, one married and one miles away) nor any lover.

I wish my parents never read this,never know that I have seen their tears.That I know and remember their bad times.

And if they do, I wish to tell them, you are my heroes. And I am proud to be your daughter.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Escape while you still can. And, then RUN!

My step-daughter was in 6th grade, she brought home a basic math worksheet, marked with a zero.

I was supposed to sign it and return it to the school.

Since it was basic math, I took a closer look at it. She had all the answers right. I asked why she got a zero. She said it was from her “calculator math” workbook and the teacher gave her a zero, because she hadn’t used a calculator.

I called the school and requested a meeting with the teacher and the principal.

I wanted to know:

  1. What is calculator math
  2. Why was she given a zero

Apparently, the school district had bought into some idea, that as a life skill, kids needed to be taught how to use a calculator, so they bought a special workbook and calculators from an education company, and they were doing an hour a week, learning how to use a calculator.

I told the principal and the teacher, that one of the important skills about calculators is when to use one and when to just do the math. Apparently, later in the workbook are problems that are hard enough that it makes sense to use a calculator.

I told them that when they got to the section where doing the math in her head became difficult, my step-daughter could use a calculator. Otherwise, she should use this extra hour a week to improve her math skills.

Step-daughter’s paper was regraded as 100%, we never had to repeat the conversation, and she got an “A” in calculator math.

Why Bother Working For a Living …. Public Assistance Game

There is no more middle class. Every thing has been gentrified from housing , cars People not being able to find a decent paying job and the cost to live is getting way out of hand . Gen Z and Millennials No Long Want to work towards nothing. America is Broken and it’s not cool. Looks like everyones going to be on welfare

Baked Cream Cheese Topped Chicken

Chicken breast halves are topped with a nicely seasoned cream cheese mixture, then baked.

recipe baked cream cheese topped chicken 2280
recipe baked cream cheese topped chicken 2280

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1/2 (8 ounce) package Challenge Cream Cheese, softened
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano*
  • 3 tablespoons 1/4 inch chopped red bell pepper
  • 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 1 1/2 pounds)
  • 2 tablespoons Panko style unseasoned bread crumbs
  • Oregano or parsley sprigs for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
  2. Combine softened cream cheese, garlic salt, oregano and red bell peppers. Set aside.
  3. Wash chicken pieces, pat dry, and place on a foil line baking sheet.
  4. Top each chicken piece with 2 tablespoons of the cream cheese mixture. Spread just to coat the top surface.
  5. Sprinkle each piece with 1/2 tablespoon of bread crumbs.
  6. Bake until chicken is thoroughly cooked (center temperature of 165 degrees F), about 20 minutes.
  7. Garnish with oregano or parsley sprigs.

Notes

* If only dried whole oregano is available, use 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon.

A man from Texas

A young guy from Texas moves to California and goes to a big department store looking for a job.

The manager says, “Do you have any sales experience?”

The kid says, “Yeah, I was a salesman back home in Texas.”

Well, the boss liked the kid, so he gave him the job. “You start tomorrow.I’ll come down after we close and see how you did.”

His first day on the job was rough but he got through it. After the store was locked up, the boss came down.

“How many sales did you make today?”

The kid says, “One.”

The boss says, “Just one? Our sales people average 20 or 30 sales a day.How much was the sale for?”

Kid says, “$101,237.64.”

Boss says, “$101,237.64? What did you sell him?”

Kid says, “First I sold him a small fish hook. Then I sold him a medium fish hook. Then I sold him a larger fish hook. Then I sold him a new fishing rod. Then I asked him where he was going fishing, and he said down at the coast, so I told him he was gonna need a boat, so we went down to the boat department, and I sold him that twin engine Chris Craft. Then he said he didn’t think his Honda Civic would pull it, so I took him down to the automotive department and sold him that 4X4 Blazer.”

The boss said, “A guy came in here to buy a fish hook and you sold him a boat and truck?”

Kid says, “No, he came in here to buy a box of tampons for his wife, and I said, ‘Well, since your weekend’s shot, you might as well go fishing.'”

ALWAYS check animal shelters and veterinarians’ offices first for missing pets. Leave photographs of the pet and your phone number with them. Put up posters with photos of your pet around your neighborhood (don’t forget to take them down when your pet is found, though). We got our cat back after two months, when our local animal control identified him and called us. he was an indoor cat who sneaked out, then got too scared to come home. He had been tossed over the fence at a veterinarian’s office that didn’t bother to check the photo we left—but animal control did. We were so happy to have him back! check animal shelters and veterinarians’ offices first for missing pets. Leave photographs of the pet and your phone number with them. Put up posters with photos of your pet around your neighborhood (don’t forget to take them down when your pet is found, though). We got our cat back after two months, when our local animal control identified him and called us. he was an indoor cat who sneaked out, then got too scared to come home. He had been tossed over the fence at a veterinarian’s office that didn’t bother to check the photo we left—but animal control did. We were so happy to have him back!

The road is shit

1. Men can go for hours without thinking about anything.

2. Most men own three pairs of shoes.

3. 50% of men say they would feel comfortable if their girlfriend had a lesbian lover.

4. A man speaks about 2,000 words a day; a woman, about 7,000.

5. It’s easier for a man to buy a bathing suit.

6. Women have two types: depressing and more depressing.

7. Men have two types: sexy-cool and horrific-speedo.

8. Love can help men quit smoking. If a man suddenly quits smoking, he may very well be falling in love.

9. Men are 150% more likely than women to use dating sites.

10. Physical intimacy is even more important for men than for women, who may value verbal communication or emotional intimacy more.

11. On average, men are more colorblind, but their eyes also perceive motion better.

12. Most men would rather take a bullet than buy tampons at the supermarket.

She seems like a nice lady

It actually happened before we got on the plane. I was travelling alone from Toronto Canada to London Uk. I had loads of bags with me. I’d checked in my big suitcase but I also had my small suitcase, a backpack and a hold-all with me. My hold-all has my laptop and other electrical in it and I was terrified of it getting damaged. I got to the departure lounge early so I sat close to the door but also away from people. I picked an area that wasn’t crowded and saw one gentleman sitting there. He was sat the the middle of the row of seats, so I wanted to give him space. To his right there were three empty seats and to his left there were four. I went to the left and sat on the last seat, putting my electrical bag on the seat next to me and trying to keep all my bags in a little area around me. Normally I wouldn’t have put it on the seat but there were a lot of kids running around and I was worried my laptop would get kicked.

A man came over to where I was sitting and asked if anyone was sitting in the seat next to me/ my bag. It wasn’t clear which. There were a lot of other seats available with no one sitting next to them. I said no.

He sat down in the seat right next to my bag. His husband/ boyfriend joined him a few minutes later. They both look super grumpy.

The first guy turns to me and says ‘I thought you said someone was sitting there’

I said, ‘no, I told you no when you asked me’

’then why can’t you be less fucking dumb and move your bag so I can sit there?’

‘Why? You could have sat anywhere else and I wanted to give the gentleman over there space and myself space’

basically he wanted to sit in that seat. It wouldn’t mean not sitting next to anyone in any configuration of where he sat on the bench but he wanted that seat because reasons? There were loads of seats available where he and his partner could have sat with no one on either side of them. He basically started anmassive tirade at me saying I saw stupid and a complete uneducated idiot who didn’t know anything in public. People looked at me and I have really bad anxiety so I almost had a panic attack.

I don’t remember exactly what I said at that point because my fight or flight anxiety mode started going off and I got super dizzy. I do recall saying something like ‘yes, clearly I’m stupid and my science degree confirms it’. And then telling him to fuck off when he wouldn’t stop bothering me.

I wanted to leave but I didn’t want to give in now as he’d been rude to me for no reason. I wasn’t hurting him and he’d just started having a go at me over nothing. If he’d wanted me to move my bag he could have asked politely but I was tired from travelling from my university in Peterborough to Toronto after a day of classes.

I got onto the plane and sat down.

Like ten minutes later the people behind me sit down and it’s the dude and his partner. They immediately start bitching about me and calling me a dumb whore etc. I started crying and called my mum to tell her what had happened.

May I also point out at this point that I was a 20 year old lone student and these men were in their thirties. I just wanted a calm journey home.

I ended up talking to an air stewardess and telling her what had happened. I asked to move seats because I was so upset. She told me once we took off I could sit wherever I liked in the area of the plane and she would keep an eye on them. I ended up able to sit in a row where a lady and I were the only people in a four seater. We sat on the furthest points on their side, both napped, and she told me she’d be my travel mum and if they were mean again she’d tell them off.

Yes I didn’t need my bag on the seat but I’m always prepared to move my stuff if someone needs space. I have osteoarthritis so I often can’t hold heavy things on my lap and my legs were in a lot of pain already so I tend to put bags next to me instead. I also get paranoid of being robbed if I don’t have everything closer but to the side. I just feel safer when I can block my items in with my suitcase and I can hold onto the suitcase at the same time. I just don’t feel the men handled it fairly in response to what was happening.

NB: 1. The carrier I was flying on does not have the two bag limit. You are also allowed a laptop bag. My laptop didn’t fit a standard size so it went into a sportdirect hold-all that wasn’t too big and was cleared by the crew. My backpack was small and just had my passport, money etc valuables you wouldn’t put in the checked bagged. I wasn’t being abnoxious with the amount of stuff I had, it was well within my limit and I kept it as much out of everyone’s way as possible.

Also clearly someone couldn’t read as I wasn’t worried my laptop would be stolen while in the air, but at the departure gate.

Furthermore, I am apparently not allowed to call my mother if I’m upset and should stay at home. I want to clarify that I was studying abroad as part of my degree. I was returning home to the UK. I don’t think it is a bad thing to be able to share things with your mum if you’re upset and unsure what to do in a situation. It was only my second time flying alone and I have severe anxiety. I was like 19 at the time and hadn’t ever lived in another country, but clearly there are some assholes on Quora.

Some AI generated pictures

Default dark skinned beautiful curvy woman wearing a tshirt wi 0
Default dark skinned beautiful curvy woman wearing a tshirt wi 0

Default Dragon 3
Default Dragon 3

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 350932c3 11b3 42aa b659 9c4d74fc3298 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 350932c3 11b3 42aa b659 9c4d74fc3298 0

Default Asian lovers kiss 1
Default Asian lovers kiss 1

Default Golden background Gold texture Beautiful luxury and el 3
Default Golden background Gold texture Beautiful luxury and el 3

Default Golden background Gold texture Beautiful luxury and el 2
Default Golden background Gold texture Beautiful luxury and el 2

Default Please create a YouTube thumbnail image featuring a fe 0
Default Please create a YouTube thumbnail image featuring a fe 0

Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 0
Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 0

Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 2
Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 2

Default cute creature leader march of the cute creatures empir 0
Default cute creature leader march of the cute creatures empir 0

Default cute creature leader march of the cute creatures empir 2
Default cute creature leader march of the cute creatures empir 2

Default cute leader march of the cute empire cute empire cute 0
Default cute leader march of the cute empire cute empire cute 0

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 6aaf1929 46c1 435b 966d 85d00e64a38b 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 6aaf1929 46c1 435b 966d 85d00e64a38b 0

Default In the center of the image stands a man with an astoni 0
Default In the center of the image stands a man with an astoni 0

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 def2657b d1b0 4dd9 aff7 696f5aee7f04 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 3 def2657b d1b0 4dd9 aff7 696f5aee7f04 0

Default Dark Grand library with staircase windows that show a 3
Default Dark Grand library with staircase windows that show a 3

Default Dark Grand library with staircase books on shelves ups 2
Default Dark Grand library with staircase books on shelves ups 2

Default Dragon 1
Default Dragon 1

Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 1
Default Advanced Aquatic Civilization A society made up of int 1

Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 2
Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 2

Default Dark Grand library with staircase windows that show a 2
Default Dark Grand library with staircase windows that show a 2

Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 0
Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 0

Default tree house cozy bunk bedroom with circular windows sho 2 6842236d b97c 4293 b8ef 163c6718b014 0
Default tree house cozy bunk bedroom with circular windows sho 2 6842236d b97c 4293 b8ef 163c6718b014 0

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 0 7551e666 1d7d 4758 a86a 13a4826e6523 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 0 7551e666 1d7d 4758 a86a 13a4826e6523 0

Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 1
Default tree house cozy bunk dark bedroom with circular windo 1

I know more about alcohol than the average bear.

While working on my ChemE degree at Michigan State I took coursework towards a specialization in Beverage Science and Technology. Over the years I have brewed beer, made wine and cider, and distilled whiskey, rum, gin, vodka, and brandy (legally, of course…)

Hell, I even tried my hand at drowning in it. 0/10, not recommended.

I don’t drink like I used to and I sold off all of my alcohol making equipment years ago, but I am still fascinated with the history, culture, and science of booze.

It suffices to say that I am not often surprised by anything to do with alcohol. I mean, sure, we’ve come a long way in some of the finer details of production, but in general alcoholic beverages are made in much the same way as they have been for hundreds of years.

Or, so I thought…

Cue the world’s first Carbon Negative Vodka

In general, vodka production is about as tough on the environment as vodka itself is on your liver. Most vodka is made from grain or potatoes which must first be mashed (requiring heat/energy) to convert basic starches into fermentable sugars, it is then fermented (releasing carbon dioxide), and distilled to a high degree of purity (lots more energy), before being filtered and watered down to drinking strength.

Being that traditional vodka production necessarily evolves CO2, it’s pretty much impossible to make a carbon-negative vodka. That it has been achieved at all is pretty surprising. How they pulled it off is beyond surprising, it’s mind-blowing:

They make it out of air.

Yes, air. Specifically, carbon dioxide. The Air Company, out of Brooklyn, NY, has figured out how to make ethanol using nothing more than air, water, and solar energy. No mashing, no fermentation; just air, water, and sun.

Each bottle is made from the carbon dioxide equivalent of the daily uptake of eight trees.

I would have never guessed that this would be possible. The solution to global warming has finally arrived: We all just need to drink more vodka.

The earth will thank you, unfortunately your liver probably won’t.

Cheers!

Edit: You know how you write an answer and it languishes at under 100 views for weeks until you all but forget about it but then it gets shared to Gold Medal Answers and suddenly you wake up to a bazillion comments and you can’t possibly answer them all? My apologies to those who I can’t address directly, but I’d like to clear up a few questions here:

  1. No, I am not affiliated in any way with the Air Co. and this answer is not meant to be an endorsement. I have not even tried the vodka and can’t say anything to whether or not it is even good. I think that the concept and chemistry are amazing, though.
  2. There have been some comments about what it actually tastes like. Again, I haven’t tried it but it’s a valid question. While vodka is theoretically nothing but water and ethanol, it certainly is more than that in practice. Distillation is not a perfect separation, most fans of vodka can taste flavors from the source material. I am a fan of neutral vodkas, but none are completely neutral. This one might be…or maybe not. There might be some side products that can be tasted. I’d love to find out for myself if anyone can get their hands on a bottle (*wink wink*).
  3. “Carbon Negative” is not the same as “Violates the laws of thermodynamics”…
  4. For anyone interested in the chemistry, my guess is that the process is a commercialized version of this: Scientists Accidentally Turned CO2 Into Ethanol, but I don’t know for sure. If any chemists out there know better, let me know (I am not a chemist, just a lowly chemical engineer…)!

Cajun Catfish with Honey Dijon Bacon Potato Salad

Fried catfish paired with a delicious Honey Dijon Bacon Potato Salad…yummy!

cajun catfish honey dijon
cajun catfish honey dijon

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

Honey Dijon Bacon Potato Salad

  • 5 cups baby Yukon gold potatoes, cooked and quartered
  • 1 medium red onion, diced
  • 1 1/2 cups celery, diced
  • 1 cup bacon, cooked, drained and chopped
  • 2 tablespoons honey
  • 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon Creole mustard
  • 1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Hot sauce to taste

Cajun Catfish

  • 4 U.S. Farm-Raised Catfish Fillets
  • 1/2 cup fish breading
  • 1 tablespoon Creole seasoning
  • 1 1/2 to 2 cups frying oil

Instructions

Potato Salad

  1. Combine all ingredients and mix well.
  2. Adjust seasoning with salt, pepper and hot sauce. Cover and refrigerate.

Cajun Catfish

  1. Combine fish breading and Creole seasoning in shallow bowl. Coat catfish in breading, lightly shaking off any excess.
  2. In a large skillet, heat oil over high heat. Fry catfish until golden brown, approximately 3 minutes per side.
  3. Place on paper towel to drain.
  4. Serve immediately with Honey Dijon Bacon Potato Salad.

Rent is too high

“Please don’t touch this car”. A salesman told me once. I worked at a car dealership in Florida and I wanted to buy a car. A nice little Volkswagen with teeth. The sales manager told me that if I ever needed a car to come to him and he’ll handle it. So I did and he told me to work with this one gentleman and that when I found the car I wanted, to let him know and he’ll speed it on through. So I went on my lunch break with the salesman he recommended and when I got to the car I wanted, a brand new 2004 VW R32 (at the time). So I found the one I liked, silver and I said that I wanted this one and proceeded to open the door (I had been eyeing them whenever they came through the shop on pre-delivery inspection).

“Please don’t touch this car.” I said, “what?” “Please don’t touch this car unless you intend to buy it”.

I didn’t fuss, I walked away and got into my car and drove across town to another VW dealer and bought the car there. All the Volkswagen guys in that area more or less knew each other from meeting at VW training school or from the racetrack plus I used to work with some of them.

I said don’t prep it, don’t clean it just take the sticker down and let me take it the way it is. Don’t even gas it up. Maybe I spent 20 minutes there, I had my own financing so it wasn’t a hassle. Their sales manager was blown away when I told him what happened to me not half hour earlier. I drove back to work and parked it in the employee parking lot. Went into the break room to eat a sandwich. That rude salesman from earlier walked in and tried to offer me a deal. I said “I already got the car.” He said, “really, from who?” I said, “from XYZ Volkswagen”. He looked at me weird. I dropped the keys onto the table with the id tag still on it. “Wanna see the receipt?” He walked away.

The sales manager comes and asks what happened and why didn’t I come to him first. I had nothing against the sales manager at the dealership I worked for but I told him “every single time I’ve tried to buy a car from any dealership I’ve ever worked for I’ve gotten a hassle from the sales department, every single time – cash deal or otherwise. I agree to the price, I buy the warranties and extras, why isn’t my money good enough?” He was speechless.

Come to find in the next week the owner of the dealership was highly upset I bought a car from another VW dealer. I told him the story, all he could do was apologise. Did you know that the following month the owner threatened (off record) to fire anyone who bought a car from another dealer? Talk about punishing the victims of his hostile sales department. Since that day, whenever I go to a dealer to buy a car, I go to the weakest salesperson and give them their fastest sale ever. The big shots can go pound it.

Two different times within 3 hours of being married.

The first time the bride and an ex-boyfriend were caught, *ahem*, having relations together by a member of the groom’s family.

Lots of screaming, yelling, and drama. The bride and ex-boyfriend were both escorted out. The groom was sitting in the corner surrounded by his family in tears. What seemed to make everything worse was the music kept playing.

The second was a bit more interesting, to say the least.

First of all, neither the bride nor groom seemed interested in the planning. The second thing was that every meeting we had, the best man AND maid of honor were there too.

Day of the wedding and the groom gets caught with the best man. The bride was pissed, but not for the usual reasons. What she said when she found out was,

“I can’t believe you two couldn’t wait until tonight!”

I swear you could have heard a pin drop. Come to find out, both were from very strict conservative and Christian families. Both were also homosexual. So they worked out a deal to “marry” but live their lives how they wished. Even more drama at that one. We escorted the bride, groom, and their significant others (for a lack of a better term) out of the area.

The Monday after, I just looked at my boss and said,

“That was one hell of a coming out party, wasn’t it?”

The U.S. can do whatever the hell they so chooses but the real question is that does it fall faster into oblivion? Right at this moment the image of the U.S. is that of lacking confidence and weak mentally and unstable to think straight!

That U.S. the present day image of the U.S. let alone it is getting ridiculous by the day. Using a fighter aircraft to shoot down a 1000 bucks weather balloon l floating across the U.S. costing them millions to trying to did armed a teeny booper social media and calling EVs. A security risk!

Investors and business partners watch for confidence and risk in dealing with a mature economy and the US looks and sound like a mentally unstable nation to have a serious relationship! So can you do what you want? Sure yes especially if you can print money freely but at what cost? This is what smart person ought to think!

Everyone in the world knows it is a Singaporean tanker run by Indian seaman but if you feel like fooling your own citizens that you still can do shit it is easy. But you are losing credibility by the day!

Damn! This is amazing! It really is. This is dark. And it is truth.

We cannot continue to allow the corporate model within a society. It is toxic to society. As we are experiencing right now.

Chili and chips

I’ve been having a lot of perfect days lately, working from home. They go like this:

  1. wake up without an alarm clock (I don’t need one, I go to bed at ten and am up at six, every day, happy to get up and do stuff).
  2. distribute a round of cuddles and canned breakfast to the house panthers, who will be staging a drama already for being famished and helpless little things.
  3. boil up hot water for some suitable morning cuppa, typically grain coffee, maté, or hot water with stevia.
  4. recline on the couch with my laptop and try to comprehend the world.
  5. as temperatures pick up outside, eventually switch to sitting in my hammock under the birch tree and work from there.
  6. have some lunch; I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking in ways that are barely noticeable, so I just go inside and, miraculously, edible things await.
  7. do some tinkering around the house, improving this or that a little bit, often just with wire and a nail.
  8. work some more.
  9. go photograph something, possibly by car.
  10. come home and feed the panthers again, then possibly hammock or TV-room with interesting documentaries until I go to bed again.

1. About 75 percent of the brain is made up of water. This means that dehydration,

2. Can have negative effects on brain function, even in small amounts.

3. The human brain will grow to three times its size in the first year of life. It continues to grow until you are about 18 years old.

4. Headaches are caused by a chemical reaction in your brain combined with the muscles and nerves in your neck and head.

5. Your brain uses 20 percent of the oxygen and blood in your body.

6. Alcohol affects your brain in ways that include blurred vision, slurred speech, an unsteady walk, and more. These usually disappear when you calm down again. However, if you drink frequently over a long period of time, there is evidence that alcohol can permanently affect your brain and once again not sober up. Long-term effects include memory problems and some reduced cognitive function.

7. If the brain does not get oxygen for 5-6 minutes, then it stops working forever.

8. As we grow older, the human brain becomes smaller. This usually occurs sometime after middle age.

9. The human brain starts to lose some cognitive skills by your late 20s, along with your memory abilities.

10. A brain freeze is actually a sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia. It happens when you eat or drink something that is cold. This stretches blood vessels and arteries to the very back of the throat, including blood to your brain. These compress when they are cold and heat up again, causing pain in your forehead.

11. Dreams are thought to be a combination of imagery, phycological factors and neurological factors. They prove that your brain is working even when you are sleeping.

12. It is a myth that humans only use 10 percent of our brain. We actually use it. We use more than 10 percent when we sleep.

13. During human evolution, the brain has tripled in size.

14. Your brain uses the same amount of power as a 15 watt light bulb.

It gets very cold in Michigan and I have a very large, down-filled winter coat. It’s somewhat hideous but it’s very warm.

Apparently coats like mine are great for shop lifting. You simply place a hole in the pockets and drop items that you’ve casually picked up and drop them to the bottom of the coat as you shop/steal. It’s difficult to tell that you have stolen anything because the coat itself is so large.

I was shopping in a card shop a while back and the sales woman there accused me of shop-lifting, because of my coat. When I was at the register to pay for ALL of my items she asked me if I would also like to pay for the items inside of my coat as well.

I smiled and I gently laughed and asked her “Are you kidding me?” I told her that I was a shop owner myself and that I would never steal anything from anyone.

She looked at me in a slightly disgusted way and rolled her eyes. “Oh. So that’s how it’s going to be!” She didn’t ask me about my store or attempt to apologize. She just stared at me. Hmm… I thought.

I had quite a large number of items that I did want to buy and I had been quite a regular customer there for some time. I was beyond insulted, but I understood her frustration, even though I was shocked.

I took off my coat, gently put it on the counter and opened my purse. “Would you care to inspect my belongings?” I said in a calm and polite way. She patted down my coat and glanced in my rather small purse. She then slid my coat over and without apologizing, began to ring up my items.

I let her ring up everything, staring back at her silently as I waited for an apology. Nothing.

I didn’t reach in my purse to pay. Instead I pushed the items back at her gently and I told her “I’m sorry but I’ve changed my mind. Not about the items, I still want them but I think I’ll take my business elsewhere, where my business is appreciated. There are lots of stores, exactly like yours.” And I left. And I held my head up without shame or anger. But what I really felt was hurt.

I went a few miles down the street to another shop that offered the exact same items and I left that store with all of them. The bill was well over $100.00 .

I understand that shop lifting is a problem but honesty is not. I gave the first woman every opportunity to make the situation right but I really felt that she did owe me an apology. I didn’t think that it was too much to ask for considering the insulting way that she had treated me in her store.

I give all of my business now to the other shop owner. Yes, it’s a bit further to drive but I feel I’d rather go without than give the first shop owner even one dime of my hard-earned money. In my opinion there is no reason, whatsoever, to treat anyone like that.

The savage killing of serial rapist Akku Yadav by a mob of women he raped is one of the most brutal revenge of all time in Indian History.

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main qimg 3338c40f50fcf6bea8a390886f37620b lq

  • On August 13, 2004, Akku Yadav was lynched by a mob of around 200 women from Kasturba Nagar, a slum of Nagpur in Maharashtra.
  • He raped more than 200 women that mostly belonging to Dalit families, the Untouchables, those placed at the bottom of the caste ladder in India. The members of the Dalit community received little to no help from the government authorities.
  • Akku Yadav fed the local officers bribes and drink, and they protected him and dropped his cases. Despite countless women coming forward with allegations of rape against him, Akku Yadav always felt free to rape whomever he wanted.

Whenever a victim reported him to the police, the authorities would alert Yadav, who then visit that women and threaten to throw acid on her and rape her again. He had raped so many women in Kasturba Nagar that a rape victim lives in almost every other house in the slum.

Source:- From Castration To The Killdozer, These Are History’s Greatest Stories Of Revenge

  • Usha Narayane, a victim who had repeatedly been harassed by Akku Yadav reported the case about Akku Yadav to the Deputy Commissioner, who promised her that police would soon arrest the serial rapist. One day Akku Yadav himself surrendered to the police fearing his death by local women.
  • The next day in court, Narayane and many other local women heard that the Akku Yadav was likely to escape punishment yet again. Together, they entered into the court in large numbers armed with vegetable knives, stones, and whatever else that was at hand.

main qimg 05db99f2b2d520f0f45ed35168c8cc45 lq
main qimg 05db99f2b2d520f0f45ed35168c8cc45 lq

As he walked in, Akku Yadav spotted one of the women he had raped. He called her a prostitute and threatened to repeat the same crime again. The police laughed. She took off her sandal and began to hit him and started saying that, “We can’t both live on this Earth together. It’s you or me”. The attack lasted for more than ten minutes and left Yadav’s dead body butchered on the courtroom floor with 70 stab wounds and his penis cut off.

Source:- From Castration To The Killdozer, These Are History’s Greatest Stories Of Revenge

  • Usha Narayane, a local activist, was arrested and charged with murder, as with other women. In 2012, Narayane was released from custody. 21 other people, including six women, were also arrested and released due to lack of evidence.

Justice Bhau Vahane said, “In the circumstances that they underwent, they were left with no alternative but to finish Akku Yadav. The women repeatedly pleaded with the police for their security. But the police failed to protect them”.

Source:- ‘Arrest us all’: the 200 women who killed a rapist

  • The death of Akku Yadav at the hands of the women he raped was one of the most brutal stories of revenge in Indian History.

main qimg d878079f2f8fe31c55cd407ce06fb1fd lq
main qimg d878079f2f8fe31c55cd407ce06fb1fd lq


  • Source of this news and story from where I have written this content:-
  1. From Castration To The Killdozer, These Are History’s Greatest Stories Of Revenge

Hot Turkey and Cheddar Casserole

Hot Turkey and Cheddar Casserole
Hot Turkey and Cheddar Casserole

Ingredients

  • Butter
  • 3 cups (about 16 ounces) cubed (1 inch) leftover turkey
  • 3/4 cup chopped celery
  • 1 (5 ounce) can sliced water chestnuts, drained
  • 1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
  • 1 1/3 cups mayonnaise
  • 1 tablespoon grated onion
  • 2 tablespoons lemon juice
  • 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded sharp Cheddar cheese, divided
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
  • 1 cup cornflakes, crushed

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly coat a 9 x 13 inch baking dish with butter.
  2. In a medium bowl, combine turkey, celery, water chestnuts, red bell pepper, mayonnaise, onion, lemon juice, 1 cup Cheddar cheese, and 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese; mix well. Place the mixture in the baking dish and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until heated through.
  3. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, combine the remaining 1 cup Cheddar cheese, 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese and cornflakes.
  4. Sprinkle the cheese mixture over the baked turkey casserole, and bake for 5 to 8 minutes, or until the cheese melts.

Rax and TCBY.

  • When I hear a good song playing suddenly in my neighborhood – It’s so awesome and got more power to make me cry and dance when it’s distant.
  • When someone genuinely listens to what I have to say – Isn’t it just great to speak your heart and someone is ready to see that vulnerable side of you?
  • When I receive the same level of importance I give to people – Ever heard someone say that “you” are a “priority” to them? If you have, dude you’re lucky (because I haven’t heard so).
  • When out of the blue, my mumma calls me “gudiya” – Mother’s love hits different. What would I even do without her?
  • When people trust me with their emotions – There’s a chance that I’ve been through that, so if they trust me, I can do everything to make sure they’re happy again.
  • When I get random messages from my close people – That specific notification sound just for the close ones>>
  • When I see potatoes – Weird? Nope, it isn’t. Potato and I go way back in history, a story for another time for sure!
  • When I know exactly what to do – I don’t have to explain this xD
  • When I’m sweating hard at the time of workout – It’s so satisfying when the exercises are giving result and on top of that, those beady drops of sweat make my day!

Some more of my AI generations

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tangerines 2
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tangerines 2

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh grapefruit 2(1)
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh grapefruit 2(1)

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh grapefruit 3
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh grapefruit 3

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh pomegranate 2
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh pomegranate 2

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh peaches wit 0
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh peaches wit 0

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes on 2(1)
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes on 2(1)

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes an 0
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes an 0

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes an 2
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes an 2

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh olives with 3
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh olives with 3

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh olives with 1(1)
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh olives with 1(1)

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes wi 3(1)
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm fresh tomatoes wi 3(1)

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm prepared hamburge 1
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm prepared hamburge 1

Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm prepared hamburge 2
Default Imagine a Baroque box label for farm prepared hamburge 2

If You’re An American Living Abroad Tell Me Why You Would Never Go Back? | Part 2

Why is that such surprise?

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main qimg 6f67e116c8e2a23e11ed60ccc4149e2a

A. The West sanctions Iran unilaterally

The West unilaterally sanctions Iran. They steal Irans Oil randomly, pirating Iranian Ships or Ships containing Iranian Oil

They forbid shipment of even medicines into Iran causing the death of thousands of iranians

For a long time they even refused to allow imports of food materials into Iran especially Wheat

B. The West arms Taiwan, arms Japan and South Korea and literally builds thousands of bases around the South China Sea

US surrounds China with army bases yet a Chinese delegation to Cuba gets a massive national security lecture

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main qimg 96906486cc76b98d89d2418adf9c3bf5

US openly says they want to Contain Chinas Rise and Growth

US arms Taiwan, a region they themselves acknowledge as being part of China

US sends soldiers to Taiwan, a Chinese region according to their own law

C. The West openly declare their aim to overthrow Putin and even assassinate him

Many a Senator and a Congressman at some time has claimed to want to overthrow or even kill Putin

They openly discuss Balkanization of Russia in their think tanks

They refused to give Russia security guarantees for almost a year before Ukraine when all they had to do was agree to Ukraines NATO membership being deferred by a decade


So how is it a surprise that these three nations decide to work together against the West?

What exactly does he expect?

That these three nations would come with a Chocolate Cake and openly allow themselves to be destroyed ?

Naah

Rule No 1 would be for the West to leave the world alone and stop interfering in every thing under the sun

Rule No 2 would be for the West to prepare a kill list of 100,000 people who are ruining them and the world. Including Stoltenberg himself.

Rule No 3 would be some nice army trucks at 3 AM outside the houses of these 100,000 people after which – they are never heard of again.

And the families too. Families always make nice deterrents.

Rule No 4 would be for a new Order in the West that adheres to their own principles of International Law rather than Rules Based Order

Once you do that the world would be a peaceful place

Stoltenberg would not be in that world but well… Nobodys gonna miss him too much

When I was a dyed-in-the-wool conservative Republican, a career military man from a family of career warriors, I loved to listen to Paul Harvey and public radio. NPR didn’t seem “leftie” to me.

I was overseas my whole career, and got my news from the Stars and Stripes and Armed Forces Radio. I saw many ways to run a society while I lived in Japan, Philippines, Korea, and Germany over 16 years.

The first time I saw Rush Limbaugh, for the first five minutes, I thought he was a comedian doing a bit.

Upon finally returning to the States to retire, I was appalled at what America had become. The US I came back to was nearly a police state. The population was the sickest and most disabled of any country I had lived in. Homelessness and lack of education made the US seem like a Third World country. I was shocked.

NPR, however, was a familiar place to relax. They made sense. They considered points of view from both left and right. Importantly, the only “leftie” was a member of the Communist Party of the USA, and the only extreme right candidate was George Wallace, who didn’t stand a chance in the general election.

The difference between Dems and Repubs was no too great. Tip O’Neill and Ronald Reagan worked together all the time. (Reagan promised “small government” but grew the government by every metric. Every one.)

Today, however, millions of Americans have been left behind. They are worse educated than any modern nation; they are sicker and more disabled, and their babies die in the first year much more than in the rest of the advanced nations. (We did, in fact, become an oligarchy with democratic trappings. Details available upon request.)

Now those millions are angry. Their politicians sold out to the billionaires. The Republican leadership, much more than the Democrats, ignored their constituents needs and gave only tax cuts and excuses. The American people wanted LGBT people to have the same rights of marriage, social security, and hospital visitation as straight people. We got that. The American people wanted women to have more career opportunities, including in the military, on ships, and in combat units. We got that.

The American people voted for a black president. That broke the GOP back. Guns flew off the retail shelves, Militia membership soared. Ammunition was sold out for two years. The GOP refused to govern. All they did was vote to repeal the ACA 60 times, always with no chance of succeeding. Republicans directly interfered with foreign policy, personally telling Iran’s leaders to ignore the POTUS.

It seemed Hillary was certain to win. So certain, that few voted. Except the Republicans. They came out in force to vote for the guy who hated everyone they hated. Now their leader spews hatred and isolationism, the money-grubbing marketing

experts at certain media companies see the potential, so they amplify the suspicion and distrust. The result is a perfect storm of brainwashing. The handsome, 6′1″ blond billionaire can persuade most folks to invest their money in his dreams. Now he’s persuaded millions of Americans to invest their votes, their minds and their hearts in dedication to a professional con-man. Bernie Maddoff must be jealous.

THE ANSWER

NPR is right where they’ve always been, just a little left of center. But now the GOP has gone so far right—off the reservation—that they call centrists traitors and Marxists. God help us in our hour of need. Lord, is it time yet to take Trump home to meet his maker? Amen.

The question doesn’t make sense.

If it was illegal then it wouldn’t be possible to get a permit to visit. A permit means that it is legal for foreigners to visit Tibet. Similar to how you need a visa to visit China.

The autonomous regions of China are often slightly different to the mainland.

  • Hong Kong & Macao have fairly easy visas for most people BUT you do need separate visas for them.
  • Xinjiang doesn’t need a special permit now but it did in the past.
  • Ningxia, Inner Mongolia, Guangxi have never had any special requirements as far as I know.

Anyway, I visited Tibet back in 2007. At that stage, it looked like the permits were going to be gone soon. The High Speed Train had just been connected and it was opening up.

Then the uprisings and separatist movement made a big push in 2008 when Beijing was hosting the Olympics. They were supported directly or indirectly by the US government and then Tibet was locked down and hard to get into Tibet for foreigners. Millions of Chinese tourists visit each year. Since then it has become easier and I know a number of people who have visited recently. You still need a permit but it is fairly easy to get one unless you are a reporter.

Last year in 2023 there were more than 24 million tourists to Tibet. Most were domestic but 30,455 were tourists from overseas.

You can visit but unless things have changed you need to spend 3 days in China. This information may be out of date since in the past it was advised that you should apply for the permit in China. Most tourists used to go to Chengdu to see the pandas and spend 3 days their waiting for the permit. A travel agent will do all of this for you and tell you what to do. It isn’t hard but it took time. Not sure if this is still the case. Things change quickly…

Navigating dating in a world where men are increasingly being told that women and men should be treated as equals; and yet where as a heterosexual man trying to find a partner, you’re still being systematically and mercilessly filtered out as a potential partner if you fail to perform classical masculinity well enough.

I grew up in, and live in Norway. One of the countries on earth that consistently score near the top of gender-equality rankings.

And yet my experiences in dating, especially as a young man, were very much about adhering to classical prejudiced gender-roles for men — or else remain single.

Examples?

  • I’ve been told (and agree!) that men should not be afraid to show or talk about emotions. But I’ve also been told in hundreds of ways that if a man shows any emotion that includes even a hint of vulnerability, then he’s instantly disqualified as a potential romantic interest.
  • I’ve been told that men and women should face the same expectations and similar opportunities. But as a young man, no woman ever asked me out on a first date. No woman ever explicitly revealed a crush on me unless I’d done the same thing first. No woman ever kissed me unless I initiated that first. No woman ever bought me a drink, flowers, chocolate, a valentines day card or any other stereotypically romantic gift unless I’d done that first. No woman ever asked me to dance, unless I’d done that first.[*]
  • Every time I read answers here on Quora about men who struggle with finding dates, I see the same recommendations. Usually from liberal, feminist people (both men and women) well-reflected about gender. Be confident. Be assertive. Initiate. Approach. Show Competence. Be unaffected by rejection, or if you’re affected, hide it! I’m not sure if they fail to notice it, or if they notice but don’t care — but these things look pretty much like: “Be classically masculine and adhere to gender-norms for men!” to me.

My dating-life took a sharp turn upwards when I finally learnt how to wear a mask and play a classically masculine role well enough to pass muster as a potential romantic partner.

I had several long and good relationships after I figured this part out, and though I’m happily married these days, I’m still confident I could fairly easily find a new fulfilling relationship if I should ever again find myself single and lonely.

But to find that relationship, I’d have to initially play a role. One that isn’t me, or that at least is just a tiny fraction of me. I’d have to play up those parts of me that adhere the closest to prejudiced norms for what a “real man” should be, and at least for a while downplay or hide those parts of me that don’t fit the mold, such as for example my vulnerable or emotional parts.

The most confusing thing for me as a young man, was how women around me were constantly telling me that there’s nothing they want more than gender-equality. And yet at the same time, if I want to “pass” as a man worthy of romantic love or sexual desire, then I have to jump right back into strongly gendered norms for what a “real man” should be.


[*]: I’m aware that many of these things do happen now and then to many men, and happen often to some men. Ironically though, that tends to be men with high social status and/or high social dominance. This single factor was without a doubt the most important factor for which young men were seen as attractive among my peers. And of course high status and high social dominance are ALSO things that prejudiced gender-roles for men judge us for.

Oh, Boy! That happened to me.

Let me give you a bit of context:

My then girlfriend and I had been dating for about 5 years when we finally decided to marry.

On the day of the wedding, we were at my parents’ house with some close family and our closest friends.

Everything was going as expected and the law officer driving the ceremony was reading the document we were about to sign in order to be pronounced “husband and wife”.

It went something like:

“Mr. Blah blah blah… of profession Systems’ Engineer, born at xxxxx and Miss blah blah blah of profession xxxxx from xxx” plus some legal stuff that no one was really paying attention, or so I thought.

Then, the lady asks the infamous question:

“Does anyone have any objection?”

And for everyone’s surprise, a “Yes, I have one” was clearly heard.

In that instant, the time and everything else just froze. You would have been able to cut the air of the room with a knife. Everyone was shocked, silently looking for the source of those words. The only things moving in the room were our guests’ eyes.

Finally, we found it!

It turned out that the objection came from no less than the bride herself, and then she added in her most natural tone:

“He is not a Systems Engineer. His speciality is Computer Engineer”

First a general sense of relief and then everyone just burst out laughing.

We have been married for more than 15 years and the document still says “Systems Engineer”

Did I tell you that my wife is a lawyer?

  1. your sleep is key to your health and energy. Sleep well, and everything in life already looks easier. Darkness, silence, and inner peace are the key ingredients.
  2. what you eat and drink is another key to your health and energy. The fewer of the things you consume have brand names, and the less has been done to them, the better you will eventually be.
  3. the people you are surrounded by contribute greatly to who you are, and not just while you are with them. When you’re honest, you’ll find that very little of you is actually you.
  4. the big challenge in life is to be authentic. It’s the hardest thing to do of them all to be truly yourself, and it may well be the meaning of life to try it. We only ever live during those moments where we are being ourselves, and they are few.
  5. to live in freedom, you need to make utilitarian choices. This is a mechanical universe, full of things that are parasitic. Find the things that serve you with the least demands on you, and your life is more free.

This chick is really freaking out.

I’m American, living in France for many years. I eat butter, cream, cheese, bread, pasta…. things I never used to eat in the US, and yet never have to worry about my weight.

Many things come into play-

No snacks. We eat meals, usually at the same times each day. My body seems to like living on a schedule this way. I don’t get hungry in between meals. My stomach knows when it is time to eat, and when it isn’t.

Portions. Portions are smaller. I’m about to visit home again, and know we’ll be going to restaurants and such, and I’ll have these giant heaping plates placed before me, which make me sick to think about. It actually kills my appetite to see this.

Different courses. Instead of eating everything at the same time, we have courses, so only one thing is in front of us at a time. If you are only eating tomatoes, you are going to eat less than if you are mixing in bites of other things in between. Eating a salad or a soup before the main dish, you’re already going to eat less of the main course, because you are less hungry.

Walking. We spend a lot of time walking. I walk to most everything – the grocery store, the post office, the hairdresser, the recycling center….. Whatever chores I have to do outside the home, I can usually walk, and a twenty-minute walk to get somewhere is normal. I do remember a time, when I hadn’t been here long, that every time someone said, “let’s just walk there”, I’d groan and complain “Why can’t we just drive??” I’ve come to love walking around the city. I had to remember the joy of that as a kid, when I’d just love taking my time and observing life around me along the way, instead of having my focus on the destination.

Less stress. This may or may not apply in a general way, but I find they have a different way of looking at life, in which work success is just not considered so essential, so people worry less. A lot of paid vacation, job security, easy healthcare, results in feeling less anxious, and maybe contributes to less cortisol production and emotional eating.

The failure of democracy

Chicken Chilaquiles Casserole

Chicken Chilaquiles Casserole
Chicken Chilaquiles Casserole

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 10 (6 to 8 inch diameter) flour or corn tortillas, cut into 1/2 inch strips
  • 2 cups shredded cooked chicken or turkey
  • 1 1/3 cups salsa verde or green sauce
  • 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded Chihuahua or mozzarella cheese

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in skillet until hot. Cook tortilla strips in oil for 30 to 60 seconds or until light golden brown; drain.
  2. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 2 quart casserole.
  3. Layer half of the tortilla strips in casserole; top with chicken, half of the salsa verde (about 2/3 cup) and 1 cup of the cheese.
  4. Press layers gently down into casserole.
  5. Repeat with remaining tortilla strips, sauce and cheese.
  6. Bake for about 30 minutes or until cheese is melted and golden brown.

I had three interviews that went very well, in my opinion, yet I received no job offer, and I suspected it was because my boss was subverting my effort to leave the company. During my fourth interview, with the Department of Correction, I mentioned my suspicion to the person interviewing me and she said that she’d make a note of it. I was offered the job a couple of days later, contingent upon passing a drug screen, and while I was at the agency for the drug screen the HR manager asked me to step into her office.

She called my boss and said she was calling for a reference on me, and boss gave what would be described as a tepid recommendation: I did “adequate” work and was “as reliable as anyone else” but she would have hired someone younger if she was filling my position now. After she ended the call the HR manager said she understood why I had trouble finding another job, and then she asked when I wanted to start work with the agency. I told her I’d be there bright and early the following Monday.

My boss said she wanted someone younger for my job so I decided to accomodate her. I didn’t bother to say anything about the phone call, or that I was leaving. But I did send a delayed email letting her know how I felt about her and so she’d know that I wouldn’t be coming back. The last time I saw her was when I picked up my last paycheck; she threw a stapler at me.

OMG!

Just put this on and listen to it on a early Saturday Morning.

Fads that stay with us

I had a roommate who had no common sense. She honestly didn’t know things that children would know. It wasn’t her fault, she came from a very wealthy family. They wanted her to be a tennis pro, so they sent her to private schools throughout her life. She was on my university’s tennis team and she was very good. Her parents had paid for her to live in a dorm on campus her first three years of college. By the time she reached her senior year of college, she’d never done anything for herself in her life. She was 22. That’s when I met her.

I put an ad out online because the person me and my other roommate had previously lived with graduated the semester before and moved out. A girl named Hannah replied to the ad. She was cute and nice so we let her sign a contract and move in with us.

Sometimes I felt like I was raising an 8 year old, living with her.

She kept not paying rent. I’d get a notice from the landlord saying a portion of the rent hadn’t been paid. I’d tell my roommate she needed to pay and she’d pay immediately. This happened for three months in a row. Finally, I said “Hannah, I’m not your mom. I can’t remind you to pay rent every month. You need to do it yourself.” Her eyes got really big. She said “Oh, I didn’t know that rent had to be paid at a certain time every month.”

She used to make giant pots of soup and leave them on the stove for days, unrefrigerated. I got concerned and told her she shouldn’t eat something that had been sitting out uncovered for three days. She was confused. I had to explain to her how she’d probably get very sick and food can go bad if it’s not refrigerated properly or not eaten for too long.

After that, my other friend left some soup in our fridge that she wanted to come back and pick up the next day. When I came home the next day, Hannah was eating it. I said “Hannah, why are you eating my friends soup? She said she was going to pick it up today.” Hannah replied, “Well I took the soup out of the fridge and left it on the counter because I knew she was going to come pick it up. But she didn’t come for a while, so I figured the soup was going bad like you told me, so I thought I’d eat it.” I just replied “Why didn’t you just leave it in the fridge until she arrived?” Hannah apparently never thought of that.

Once some mice invaded our home. Hannah left her food in the cupboards uncovered, like her rice and cereal. I told her she had to box them up or the mice would get in her food and poop in it and make her sick. She tied some rubber bands around some of her food but that was it. I had to secure all of her food for her because I worried about her, and I wanted the mice gone.

Another time, we went on a hike together and saw a tent made to look like a teepee in the forest. She asked “Do you think pilgrims live in there?” I’m pretty sure she meant Amish people, but either way, I was dumbfounded.

Up to a year after we were roommates, she would call me asking me about random bills that got charged to her that didn’t relate to me at all. I couldn’t believe some of the stuff she got into just because she had no common sense.

The thing is, she was pretty book smart. She got good grades in her major. She was amazing at tennis which takes intelligence. She just had zero common sense. I had never met someone like that before. I was basically her caretaker all year. She was super sweet and I liked her, but wow did I get annoyed with her sometimes.

Anyways, she’s probably going to become a pro tennis player now. She’ll have a coach or enough money to have other people handle her life for her, so I think she’s going to turn out okay.

How I see the US after living abroad for 5 years

This might sound crazy, but this happened to me three times in the 1990’s. Twice in a bar and once at an all night diner sorta like Denny’s in Blufield,WVA.

All three times some drunk guy just walked up to me and said something like,” I don’t like you and I’m gonna kick your ass”.

My response, all three times was, “ okay man, if that’s what you want to do, but just tell me first, why do you want to kick my ass?”

All three times it led to the person saying…”I don’t know, I just want to”..and within a minute or two, we were sitting talking and they decided they were now ok with me.

The third one in West Virginia…was strange cuz I was sitting in a booth, the first booth in the restaurant, when this obviously very drunk guy came up to me and said that he wanted to kick my ass. I responded as I do and next thing I know, he pulls up in the booth and starts crying and trying to tell me his problems.

The waitresses were apologizing to me about him and trying to get him to leave, when eventually his wife and mother or mother-in-law came, got him and apologized profusely for him bothering me.

I figured out a long time ago to be meek and not to act like a bad ass. The Bible tells us to be meek, have self control, be patient, have charity.

Why This Modern Woman Keeps Her Baby Daddies Away From Her Family – You Won’t Believe The Reason!

The Chinese themselves openly confirmed this didn’t they?

They openly said they were detaining Uyghur families who were supporting the ETIM and had a role in the 2007/8 terrorist incidents and other separatist factions

They openly established Re Education camps where Uyghurs were detained

The Camps are now closed. The last camp was closed in 2020 after Covid when they took a decision that 9 years was enough

And it’s not millions

It’s around 100K-120K people

They are on home surveillance now for 15 years

All this is available on People’s Daily


They agreed they were detaining and re educating these Uyghurs

They themselves said so before anyone else did


The Allegations against the Chinese were not of Detention of and Re Education of Terror suspects or ETIM sympathisers

It was

  • Genocide of Uygur People
  • Slave Labor of all Uyghur People

The Allegations were of Death or Extermination Camps where Uyghurs were enslaved and killed

These are Total Lies

The Locations shared by Google Earth were visited in detail by many UN Officials and close to 1000 reporters from over 50 Countries including 14 Islamic ones

Not a shred of evidence

A Camp leaves some sign

The Nazi death camps had signs for decades

Likewise Slave Labor is a myth

This has been proven conclusively over and over again

Why would a region import Harvesters worth $ 15 Billion if they aimed to have cotton pickers?


Now the Narrative is CULTURAL GENOCIDE

God knows what the next will be


China is no longer fire fighting and waiting for the next accusation to prove

They are simply opening up Xinjiang and saying “SEE FOR YOURSELF”

The US is desperately dialling back and forbidding Americans to visit Xinjiang

Always a bad move because Americans HATE to be DENIED anything and that makes them all the more determined to visit the place themselves

American Reacts To How Has Your Concept Of Freedom Changed, As An American Living Abroad? | Part 1

Freedom propaganda.

You won’t like this answer but…..

In the UK there is a long running television program called university challenge where teams of students from each university in the country battle it out to become the cleverest university for the year on TV.

A similar program used to exist and for all I know may still do in the US called college bowl.

Some years ago now a British university was invited to a college bowl episode to compete against an American team.

The organisers rather arrogantly gave the British team a head start by giving them a number of points, presumably because they thought the British team might not be so familiar with the American TV show or maybe the American centric questions that might arise.

The contest began and the British team went on to thoroughly rout, Indeed, totally spank the American team to the extent that even without the head start they had been given. The difference in scores was truly embarrassing.

This contest was never repeated and I have struggled to find any reference to it on YouTube or elsewhere. That episode seems to have been eradicated from history.

I think I have answered the question.

Chicken and Dumpling Casserole

Yield: 6 servings

chicken dumplings
chicken dumplings

Ingredients

Chicken

  • 1/4 cup butter
  • 1/2 cup chopped onions
  • 1/2 cup chopped celery
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon dry basil
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 4 cups chicken broth
  • 1 (10 ounce) package frozen peas
  • 4 cups cooked chicken, cubed

Dumplings

  • 2 cups buttermilk biscuit mix
  • 2 teaspoons dried basil
  • 2/3 cup milk

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease a 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish.
  2. Chicken: In a large kettle melt butter and sauté onions, celery, and garlic until tender.
  3. Add flour, sugar, salt, basil, pepper and chicken broth. Bring to a boil. Boil a minute then add chicken and frozen peas.
  4. Pour into prepared pan.
  5. Dumplings: Combine biscuit mix, basil and milk. Stir until moistened and use spoon to drop dumplings onto casserole (12 dumplings).
  6. Bake uncovered for 30 minutes.
  7. Cover and bake 10 minutes more or until dumplings are done.

Apparently Women Are Facing An UNPRECEDENTED Crisis of Loneliness

I once asked my colleague who sat behind the cubicle, “You want date?”

It was late evening on the office in Jakarta. We were discussing about annual Eid holiday plan, when I asked the question out of the blue. She went silent for quite long, maybe surprised, and spoke very slowly, “Err… yes…”

I was a bit confused with the reaction, and then she continued, “What time?”

It took us around five seconds to realize the misunderstanding.

Both of us were sitting completely silent separated by the cubicles. I did not dare to stand up and looked to the next cubicle because it would be awkward. What I tried to offer her is a pack of date fruit which is pretty common during Ramadan month before the Eid holiday. I decided to just shove the fruit box from above the cubicle separator, told her “here you are”, and she grabbed it.

And still, silence.

main qimg 63c65b3f76ef8ec145e76c6ca6eefcbf lq
main qimg 63c65b3f76ef8ec145e76c6ca6eefcbf lq

Damn. It was awkward.


To this day, I believe she still wonders whether I pranked her.

Lesson learned, next time use Bahasa Indonesia instead of broken Asian English.

Chris Langan was born with a freakishly potent brain, having arguably the highest IQ of any living person.

Langan began speaking at six months old and went on to skip several grades. He had an adult vocabulary by age 10. He breezed through college-level tests as an adolescent. He took his SAT several years early and got a perfect score in half the allotted time and took a nap.

Today, he is a rancher. He never finished college. Most of his adult years were spent as a bouncer at a bar, and in manual labor jobs.

main qimg 329da5df732942bedfe97c9536475f22 lq
main qimg 329da5df732942bedfe97c9536475f22 lq

It all stemmed from his rough childhood. He grew up in a poor family. His mother married multiple times before he turned 12. One stepfather committed suicide. Another was psychopathic and abusive.

His stark upbringing created behavioral problems and a persisting contempt for authority. Combine this with inadequate mentorship, resources, and an absent professional network and he never weaponized his extremely rare gift.

The sad truth is that there are many like Langan, who are like the gifted child working on a 3rd world farm, born into poverty and dealt a common, cruel blow to the chance of success.

I worked for a private family-owned company. Business was so good that the company needed additional public share capital to continue . I was doing the ground work (valuation ) in order to proceed with investment advisors to take a company public. My findings were presented to the president in a highly-confidential , private, internal valuation memorandum. I entered the office of the president to discuss my findings and conclusions. He read the three-line summary of the memo. Then he excused himself to his private bathroom. He never returned. His secretary checked on me in ten minutes, found me alone and demanded that I leave immediately.

What happened? the valuation of the company was very much higher than expected. His net worth had exploded in those three lines of the summary. The corporate secret was that he was an alcoholic and that he could not possibly take this corporation public. He could not be trusted in a public environment. The company had a wider culture of long alcohol-laced lunches and no effective board oversite, due to family connections. After a confirming professional valuation, the company was sold to a competitor for cash (at my $$ number) and the entire head office staff, excluding a very few, were laid off. I left before the sale occurred.

Default An interesting and visually descriptive prompt as a gr 5
Default An interesting and visually descriptive prompt as a gr 5

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Default Tshirt Brand logo africans and orixs black and red wri 0

Default a hyper realistic color epic cinematography of an accu 3
Default a hyper realistic color epic cinematography of an accu 3

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Default An ancient town in China rain fog looking at the lens 3

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Default Generate a composition inspired by El Grecos dramatic 0

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Trad 0

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Default Coffee Shop Bossa Nova style cute tables outside cobbl 3

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Bull 0

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Braz 3

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Rura 4

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 4

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Rura 3

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Default a chinese woman captivates with her rare beauty With 1

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Default Majestic dragon perched atop a crumbling castle tower 0

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 1

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Default masterpiece floating character 20 years old boy curly 2

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Default aryshan idea Wolverine wolf husky German Shepherd 0

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Default An ultra detailed an ancient Mayan warrior hyper reali 3

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Default masterpiece best quality Anime14 pastel anime pleiadia 2

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Default postcard drawn with a brush and thai white headed bird 2

Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 2
Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 2

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Rura 0

Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 3
Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Geis 3

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Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring Zen 3

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Default anime girl as a rider anime girl posing standing next 1

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Default In the center of the image stands Misa Amane depicted 1

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Default mega realistic highcontrast cinematic still of fenrir 0

More fun with LeonardoAI

PhotoReal A stunning portrait of a beautiful fairhaired woman 2
PhotoReal A stunning portrait of a beautiful fairhaired woman 2

PhotoReal An astronaut turned into a skull floats in the abyss 1
PhotoReal An astronaut turned into a skull floats in the abyss 1

Default Dragon in aslant flight spitting Fire 2
Default Dragon in aslant flight spitting Fire 2

Default Martha Hyer 0
Default Martha Hyer 0

Default Mangastyle illustration character wearing a longsleeve 3
Default Mangastyle illustration character wearing a longsleeve 3

Default marcus aurelius standing on a balcony looking over a c 0(1)
Default marcus aurelius standing on a balcony looking over a c 0(1)

AlbedoBase XL Beautiful Elf posing with freckles and glasses 1
AlbedoBase XL Beautiful Elf posing with freckles and glasses 1

AlbedoBase XL illusion of a indigenous girl in 100 years later 0
AlbedoBase XL illusion of a indigenous girl in 100 years later 0

3D Animation Style Generate a cinematic and sharply focused ph 3
3D Animation Style Generate a cinematic and sharply focused ph 3

3D Animation Style man playing video games with keyboard and m 3
3D Animation Style man playing video games with keyboard and m 3

3D Animation Style Cheveux bruns 3
3D Animation Style Cheveux bruns 3

Default A smart 20 years boy black hairs laptop in his hand si 1
Default A smart 20 years boy black hairs laptop in his hand si 1

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Default Create an AIgenerated image portraying a captivating f 3

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Default Coffee Shop Bossa Nova style cute tables outside cobbl 0

Default aryshan idea Wolverine wolf husky German Shepherd 1
Default aryshan idea Wolverine wolf husky German Shepherd 1

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Default Imagine the ethereal Lucifer the angel fallen from gra 1

Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring serb 4
Default An ultra detailed realistic digital art featuring serb 4

About 30 years ago I was driving on the freeway at highway speeds. My wife was my passenger. The car behind me was driving rather close to my bumper. Traffic ahead had come to a stop as evidenced by lots of brake lights so I hit my brakes. The car behind me slammed into me causing a total wreck. The police came to assess what happened. The young girl driving the car that hit me claimed I hit my brakes to hard. The officer explained to her she was following too close. The police report clearly stated the accident was her fault.

I was young and driving a “beater”. my car was maybe worth $3,000. I only had basic liability insurance because my car wasn’t worth much. My car itself wasn’t covered. She was insured by State Farm so I filed a claim with her insurance company seeking $3,000. My wife and I had back pain but I didn’t even ask for payment for my medical damages. The State Farm adjuster told me that even though the police report said the accident was their clients fault, they believed their client and would not pay my claim. Oddly, they did not go after me or my insurance company for her damages. When I threatened to sue, the agent laughed and said she doubted I’d find an attorney to take my case.

I in fact did find an attorney. That’s when the State Farm adjuster called me to offer the $3,000 I had originally asked for. I told her to talk to my attorney and pointed out she was wrong for telling me I’d never find an attorney to take my case. State Farm ended up paying over $20,000 for my car, medical bills, attorney fees, and pain and suffering. They chose to deny my claim because most people would have gone away quietly.

Cheez-It Chicken Casserole

Cheez It Chicken Casserole
Cheez It Chicken Casserole

Ingredients

  • 1 package chicken tenders
  • Salt
  • Pepper
  • 1 (8 ounce) carton sour cream
  • 1 box Cheez-It crackers, crushed
  • 1/2 cup melted butter

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Fill casserole dish with boneless, skinless chicken breast tenders; sprinkle with salt and pepper.
  3. Spread sour cream over chicken.
  4. Sprinkle crushed Cheez-It crackers over sour cream.
  5. Pour melted butter over Cheez-It crackers.
  6. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until golden brown.

There are two and they were both sort of theft. The laundromat in my apartments had a coke machine, 50 cents for a can of soda. This was in the early 90s so I was maybe 10. My friends and I found a particular spot you could punch the machine (not hard, but precision was key) and it would drop 10–20 cents, over and over. Free sodas, sure! But then I started using it for other things, like comics. It didn’t take long for that machine to get replaced.

The other loophole, which I now understand how it worked was one I used at arcades and movie theatres (because they had arcade games). Remember change machines? Specifically the older ones where you laid a bill on a flat metal tray and slid that into the machine, then it gave you 4 quarters. It turns out there is a sensor that reads one corner of the bill to verify and check the denomination, and an arm that grabs the bill to pull it into the machine, but that arm is on the other side of the bill. So, I’d tear off a corner of a bill, place it accordingly, the machine would read it and give me four quarters but it could NOT take that one corner which it had read, so I would turn $1 into $10, given enough time. My mom actually caught me doing that instead of an employee.

When I set up a small freelance bureau, my first client was run by a no-nonsense CEO and we agreed on a contract where I got paid for every day I worked in their offices plus a percentage of any new business generated. This worked OK for a couple of years until he put in a new tier of managers to run the company, who were incentivized by the profitability of their accounts.

The new director began a cost-cutting drive about wasting photocopier toner etc. to try and boost the bottom line, but most of all she hated the fact that I cost her money. So after a month or two she told me I needed to switch to a commission-only contract where I got nothing for project delivery and client management, just a percentage on new sales. She told me to present a revised contract reflecting the new reality, which I was happy to do as they had been soaking up too much time, now that I was getting more business from other clients.

She seemed slightly surprised at my pleasant acceptance of what she saw as harsher terms, but I said I could see it made sense for her and I’d bring a new contract in a few days. When I did, she immediately checked the clauses on no payment for on-site time and signed both copies.

A few weeks later, with a healthy order book projected for the next year, she asked the accountant how much she owed me and what it would cost her to get rid of me that Christmas? The accountant looked at the jobs remaining and she told the new director she would probably have to cut me a modest check for about X grand. The director immediately emailed me that she wanted to end our collaboration and I wouldn’t be needed in the new year. I said that was OK and as per our contract I would spend the notice month getting everything in good shape. I spent a few days firming everything up and asked if she could let me know what numbers she was working from so I could make the project list match up.

The accountant sent me her X grand number and I replied with my number which was seven times as high. The accountant said she had agreed X with the director and listed the projects involved that would complete the year’s work. I suggested she tell the director to check her contract and come back with the correct number, which included all the work booked for the following year.

This caused an immediate flurry of action and resistance, which prompted me to alert the CEO and send him a copy of our original contract that I had written , and which had not changed in terms of commissions. He called us into his office like two naughty children and the director said by her calculation she thought I was due X as final commission on items uncompleted by my enforced departure.

I agreed but added that the contract differentiated between commission entitlement – which occurred at time of sale – versus commission draw-down, which happened in stages as project milestones were reached. The only reason I was demanding my full year’s entitlement of 7X up front was because I was fired and had managed during my notice period to get all sales confirmed in writing. Had I not been fired I would have overseen completion of all projects, without charge and been paid the commission in stages as per contract.

The CEO asked for the director’s response, but apart from saying she didn’t agree, she avoided all eye contact. The CEO asked me would I negotiate and I replied I was agreeing to meet in his office rather than in court, where as the author of the contract I was likely to prevail and claim for damages on top.

The CEO closed the meeting and told the director to take me down to accounts and cut me a check for the full amount. Once cleared, I treated myself to a new motorcycle and saved the rest.

With so much unchecked power at the top, how has China sustained its success for so long without falling prey to debilitating corruption?

I’m not claiming that there is no corruption in China; I imagine there is. But without freedom of press, without an independent judiciary, and without a democratically elected head of state, what checks and balances allow Chinese leaders to focus on the country more than individual enrichment?

This is a very good question. The OP obviously has a brain.

To quote Holmes, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

Well we know that unchecked power always leads to massive corruption, and we know that although corruption is a problem in China, it’s not terribly bad either.

So the logical conclusion is – that the power to engage in corruption is somehow checked in China.

China has a completely different philosophy on power, which is “the more power one has, the higher level of restraints one should live under.” Putting it in practice, it means that…

At the junior government level, you have very limited power, and so you only have the responsibility to follow the rules yourself. If you are wearing an expensive watch and some anonymous citizen takes a picture and sends it to the Party Discipline Committee, then it’s your responsibility to prove that the money comes from legitimate sources.

At the mid-government level, you have much greater power, so you have to report the assets of yourself, and 3 generations of your linear relatives (i.e., your parents, your wife, your children, and their spouses). Any hint of impropriety, and you’ll be put under investigation. Also, if you don’t keep your family and your assets in China, you can’t serve in the government at this level.

At the senior level, it’s per se illegal or corrupt for you to have private meetings with other people. Period. All meetings must be in public and in the presence of other government officials. Your children will have to live under assumed names so that other people don’t know their connections to you. You are expected to work 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, and spend the rest of your time with your family or feed the goldfish or something completely innocuous.

But what about the right to privacy?

Well, what about it?

You signed on to this when you take the job. You don’t have to take the job, but if you do, you have to agree to this.

With great power comes great responsibilities. It’s a matching set.

You have great power, so you have the responsibility to live like a model person.

Sometimes the rules go over the top.

For example, a new rule says that mid-level government officials and above must give the Central Discipline Committee 6-month advanced notice if he’s going to host a wedding for his son or a funeral for his aged parents (so he can be spot-checked for signs of extravagance), with restrictions on the size and participants of these events, and it caused a bit of mumbling, like

“I’m really, really, trying to follow all the rules, but I really can’t predict when my mom is going to die 6-month ahead.”

At which point in time the response is…

“Oh, well, we can be considerate, but why don’t you give us a heads-up when she gets sick or something.”

And the lower level reaction is…

“F*ck.”

Also, China applies a de facto RICO statue to government corruption.

Basically, if I can’t sort out who’s more guilty because you guys won’t talk, then you can all rot in jail for the rest of your lives.

If you take a look at, for example, the Tianjin Explosion that killed 165 people.

A bad industrial accident stemming from poor code enforcement.

The result is 49 people going to jail, and the most guilty one getting a death sentence. China Jails 49 Over Deadly Tianjin Warehouse Explosions

The punishment is quite severe.

Overall

So this system may not completely root out corruption, but it makes corruption both hard to do and highly risky.

The truly determined and ingenious ones have to develop some 007-type skill set to engage in corruption.

Not surprisingly, the biggest “fish” caught in the anti-corruption net to-date is the old spymaster of China.

And the risk is not just on the corrupt official personally, but on his family too.

Daddy has to tell little Jimmy “don’t wear that expensive pair of shoes outside ’cause you could land me in jail”.

Things like Clinton’s “I’m just having a private dinner with some Goldman bankers” – that’s per se corruption in China, and you are out of a job even if you only ever talked about weather.


Now if we take a look at the checks and balances listed in your question, i.e., freedom of press, independent judiciary, democratically elected head of state.

If they work so well, why do we have 2008 meltdown, the Iraq invasion, the missing WMD, Iran-Contra, the Congress throwing money at the Military when even the Pentagon says “we don’t want it”, all the Wikileaks stuff coming out during the campaign, etc. …

…and not a single person is ever punished in any shape or form?

Well obviously these checks and balances don’t work so well.

The higher the elites go, the bigger moat they get to build around themselves.

The best moat money and power can buy.

And if you look into these things a bit more, you’ll see that most of these things are where BOTH political parties benefited & were implicated while the American people were screwed.

Interesting, isn’t it.

The question is, this may be fair for the rich and powerful individuals, but is it fair for the PEOPLE?

To escape what is commonly called “the Rat Race”, you will need the following:

  1. permanently assured accommodation that doesn’t depend on high, regular payments to maintain; for example a small house that is fully paid for and where you could always stay and wait out periods between jobs;
  2. savings, so that you aren’t under pressure to bring in money every month in order to survive;
  3. get rid of all debts;
  4. a profession that is versatile and in demand, so that you can find work wherever, whenever, change jobs when you feel like it, and negotiate part time work arrangements; things like nursing, programming, or security might always work;
  5. low bills. Drive an old, but reliable car that never needs fixing, don’t smoke or drink, learn to cook properly and to budget and plan, and do it, and generally avoid an expensive lifestyle.
  6. remain flexible and open minded about what it is you might be doing professionally. Driving forklifts this year, teaching CAD next year, writing ad copy after that… these kinds of hops should not scare you.
  7. give up career thinking. If you are serious about moving up, that kind of lifestyle is unattainable. Relegate yourself to letting someone else be boss, and just do your bit. Ambition is the thing that causes us the most suffering.
  8. decide that you will be happy within that little world you are creating for yourself, and that any adversity you encounter in it will be dealt with, not evaded by giving up and moving away. A little oasis of peace is still something situated in the hostile context of life on this planet, so you need to have a will and the means to maintain and defend it.

I have organised my life in this way a few years ago, and the effects are remarkable. My stress levels have gone down noticeably, various health issues have disappeared, and I am generally a much happier person now.

A life like that doesn’t need to look small and grey, either.

Here, my cheap little house and my 35 year old car I’ve had for 27 years now:

main qimg afa09843db2e04d187695693780ab646 lq
main qimg afa09843db2e04d187695693780ab646 lq

The dollar value on these things is minimal. But I can maintain them with ease, come what may.

COMMENTS

Nice post! I’m glad I learned this lesson at an early age as well. I avoided the rat race, chose a profession I enjoy that is low stress, and kept my bills to a minimum. Now I look younger than my colleagues and always get mistaken for a 25 year old! The secret is simplicity and not letting society pressure you into becoming something you don’t aspire to be, or to have things you can barely afford to impress people who don’t care.

Working you’re body to death but having all the latest material fads and addictions just isn’t worth it…

Your cheap little house would be no less than 350k (U.S.) where I live. The sad thing is in the U.S. you must have money to survive and you better be working your tail off night and day if you even want a roof over your head. Or share everything with family assuming you have family who have anything. People actually wonder why our homeless situation is so rampant. Much of It is because people give up on trying to get up after chasing the U.S. ‘dream’ in endless circles never finding an opening out of poverty. The ones who are not caught in the circle have a solid base to begin with or no bad luck along the way.

It’s wise to view it as a long term project, indeed. This lifestyle requires preparation and planning, so it is a good idea to approach it the way you mentioned – giving yourself a few decades to get there. But the main thing is to have and work toward that goal.

 

Gusty Erie

  1. By 2020, depression will be the leading cause of death and disability.
  2. Feeling ignored causes the same chemical effect as that of injury.
  3. People who play video games often are much more likely to have lucid dreams than non-gamers. They were also better able to influence their dream worlds as if controlling a video-game character.
  4. People who have cars with bumper stickers are more likely to exhibit road rage. You may want to think twice before laying on the horn!!
  5. Phobias may be memories passed down through generations in DNA, according to new research. If you remember a past event, you’re actually remembering the last time you remembered it rather than the event itself.
  6. Thinking about sex will temporarily relieve the urge to pee in the case of an emergency.
  7. Having a problem? Lay down! You can process thoughts faster by laying down.
  8. At a restaurant? Wash your hands after ordering. The menu is generally the dirtiest thing you can touch.
  9. Always check your cell signal when looking for new apartments or dorms to live in.
  10. If a crocodile is chasing you, run in a zig-zag pattern. Crocodiles can’t take sharp turns well.
  11. If a crocodile has caught you between its jaw, you press his eyes intensely with your thumbs, he will leave you.
  12. You can clear cigarette smoke in a room by spinning a wet towel around.
  13. If your stomach is rumbling in a public setting, do not clench your muscles, instead of push out like a beer belly and the noise will stop.
  14. Honey= brightens, tightens, & fights wrinkles & acne. Honey Facial: Smear onto face let sit for 1-3m, rinse with warm water, pat dry.
  15. Got a pimple before something important? Use an ice cube to shrink it.
  16. Mash tomatoes and apply the pulp as a pack on the face. Wash this off after half an hour to get a clear and glowing complexion.
  17. For oily skin, mash one banana with a teaspoon of honey and a couple of drops of lemon juice. Apply to face for 10 minutes, rinse.
  18. You can get longer nails by applying olive oil to help them grow.
  19. Eating garlic and onions can make your hair grow faster.
  20. Putting sugar on a wound does helps heal it faster!
  21. Clean your room! When your room is messy, you’re more likely to procrastinate and not get work done.
  22. If you know you’re going to vomit eat some vanilla ice cream first. It won’t stop the vomiting, but it will stop the burning sensation.
  23. Remove ink from clothes? Put toothpaste on the ink spots generously. Let it dry completely, then wash.
  24. Sign up for the free 30 minute trial of on-board WiFi while flying. Delete cookies when the trial ends. Start a new trial.
  25. If you are buying headphones/speakers, test them with Bohemian Rhapsody. It has a complete set of highs and lows in instruments and vocals.
  26. Put a stocking over the end of a vacuum to find tiny items like earrings. This prevents you from accidentally sucking them up.
  27. Mess with telemarketers! Some aren’t allowed to hang up, so answer the call, take a shower, have a snack, then say “no thanks 😉
  28. Memorize your waiter’s name when they introduce themselves—call them by name later in the meal and they’ll like you more.
  29. Singing in the shower daily can help boost your immunity, lower blood pressure, reduce stress, and improve your mood.
  30. Combine used coffee grounds, coconut oil, & sea salt for an amazing body scrub that will remove dead skin cells while hydrating your skin.
  31. If you don’t know whether to write “affect” or “effect”, use the word “impact” instead.
  32. If you want someone to listen to you, start the conversation with “I shouldn’t be telling you this.
  33. If your boyfriend or girlfriend wrongs you–don’t tell your parents about it. You might forgive them, but your parents won’t.
  34. If you’re ever stuck in a large crowd, put coins in a can and shake it, asking people to donate. Everyone will move to avoid you.
  35. When walking through a crowd, look at your destination in the distance. People will clear a path if they see you make a clear eye-line.
  36. When washing clothes, always turn them inside out so the design doesn’t crack.
  37. If you still feel tired after a good night’s sleep, you’re probably dehydrated. Drink some water after you wake up.
  38. If you email a big company and tell them your recent purchase was unsatisfactory, they’ll most likely send you free stuff.
  39. Feeling sleepy? Hold your breath until you can’t anymore and then breathe out slowly. This will increase your heart rate.
  40. Sleeping without a bra can help you have a 95% better sleep.
  41. Sleeping on your stomach can induce weirder, scarier, and sexier dreams.
  42. Sleeping next to someone you love not only reduces depression, but it also helps you to live longer and makes you fall asleep faster.
  43. Eating your food slowly will help you lose weight, enjoy your food, reduce stress, and lead to better digestion.
  44. Fasting for 16 hours will reset your body’s natural sleep/wake cycle and is considered an effective way to overcome jet-lag.
  45. Have a flat tire? Take a picture of it on your phone for future reference. Use it as an excuse later.
  46. When in college, always sit in the front. Your teacher will remember your face when it comes to grading and most likely be more favorable.
  47. Forgot an assignment and need to email it? Change the date on your computer system and send it.
  48. If you think somebody is giving you a fake number, read it back to them incorrectly. See if they correct you.
  49. Listening to music can boost your running performance by 15%.
  50. Before sleeping, 90% of your mind begins to imagine the stuff you’d like to happen.
  51. Have a good 20-minute workout at night so you’ll feel better before you sleep.
  52. Dancing, singing and masturbating are all proven ways to fight depression and lead to better sleep.
  53. Take vitamin B complex during the summer. Insects don’t like the way it makes you smell to them, it wards off mosquitoes and biting flies.
  54. In college? Always ask for a student discount, most stores have it and students never use it.
  55. If you are drunk and have the urge to vomit, taking short rapid breaths can help it go away.
  56. If you download a “PDF” file and you see it ends in “.exe” delete it. Its a virus.
  57. When cleaning your room, start with making your bed. It will make everything around it look out of place and it will motivate you to clean.
  58. Hearing your name being called, when no one has actually called your name, is a likely sign of a healthy mind.
  59. If you want someone’s number at a party, take a picture with them and ask them to send it to you.
  60. The Two-Minute Rule: If you see something that needs doing, and it can be completed within two minutes, do it immediately.
  61. Putting dry tea bags in gym bags or smelly shoes will absorb the unpleasant odor.
  62. Wrap a cold paper towel around a drink and put it in the freezer to make it cold faster
  63. Drinking 2 cups of cold water on an empty stomach can boost metabolism by 30%
  64. Cough keeping you up at night? Put Vick’s Vapo-rub on your feet and put on socks. Within minutes the cough will stop permanently
  65. Hugging can help reduce stress and lower blood pressure — This helps to protect us from heart disease
  66. When on a date, the best way to judge a person’s character is to see how they treat waiters and waitresses
  67. To remove gum from hair, dip into a small bowl of Coke, leave for a few minutes. The gum will wipe off
  68. When doing sit-ups if you place your tongue on the roof of your mouth it will stop you from straining your neck
  69. If your boss calls you in on your day off, tell him you’ve been drinking, the boss can’t fault you for not coming in.
  70. When going on a date, go to a horror film. Elevated heart rate and adrenaline are strongly tied to sexual attraction.
  71. If you ever drop glass, put a piece of bread on it. The consistency of the bread will pick up even the smallest shard
  72. When you’re finished with an essay, copy and paste it into Google Translate and listen to it. It’s the easiest way to find mistakes.
  73. If you toss onions in the freezer 15 minutes before you cut them you won’t tear up.
  74. Accidentally text the wrong person? Immediately put your phone on airplane mode and once it fails to deliver, delete the message.
  75. If you place an egg in water and it floats, don’t consume it. It’s bad and should be thrown away. A fresh egg will sink to the bottom.
  76. Eating Pizza once a week can actually help reduce the risk of esophageal cancer. So go eat some Pizza.
  77. Turning the shower cold right before you get out closes your pores and makes you less likely to get acne.
  78. Yellow rooms can make babies cry more and couples fight more.
  79. Grab a banana for breakfast! They are known as happy fruit. Eating just one can help relieve irritable emotions, anger and or depression.
  80. Bananas can reduce the swelling and irritation of mosquito bites and help with nicotine withdrawal.
  81. People who enjoy sweets like chocolate tend to be more generous, happier, selfless and open-minded.

Here it comes again..

  1. If your criticism is based on facts and logics, then your criticism is welcomed.
  2. If your criticism is based on rumor and bias, then you will ran off and seek political asylum in USA, Canada or UK, like the pro-”democracy” activists in HK, eg, Joshua Wong and Agnes Chow Ting. Because you can’t make a living in China, everyone knows you and they put you into their blacklist, you can’t find a job. So the only choice is to go for your funder.
  3. No one is excuted by the government for criticizing it so far.
  4. No one believes in Xinjiang fake news, because those news reports targeted on you, not us. This is your government’s propaganda, not ours. We can tell the illogic and not-make-sense narratives at the first sight but you can’t, because the distance and language barrier made you not able to access information from a much wider range.

The answer lies in the theory of deterrence and enduring paranoia of that most iconic of Cold War doctrine’s “MAD” or Mutually Assured Destruction. If there is one man who was most responsible for both it is General Curtis “Bombs Away” LeMay. LeMay was everything you imagine a Cold War air force general to be — a sports-car driving, martial arts practicing, HAM radio operating, steel-nerved commander for whom the killing of thousands or even millions of civilians was an uninteresting footnote in the larger strategic calculus of war. Indeed, he may well have been the source of that stereotype. he is certainly remembered as both the patron saint of the United States Air Force and as among the most infamous war criminals in history.

Along the way LeMay became one of the guiding lights of American strategic airpower. Now, LeMay didn’t like ballistic missiles. He was a bomber man. So if we asked LeMay this question he would probably respond the same way he did when he advocated for the continuation of the SAC bomber program in a memo dated January 4, 1964:

Ballistic missile forces represent both the U.S. and Soviet potential for strategic nuclear warfare at the highest, most indiscriminate level, and at a level least susceptible to control.

What LeMay is saying here is that the ICBM fleet is, by design, an all-or-nothing proposition. The fact that it exists — out in the middle of the Northwest Great Plains in full view of any satellite that cares to look down upon it — sends a very clear and unambiguous message:

  1. The United States has the ability to reduce your homeland to a smoldering ruin
  2. The United States will use these weapons if you use similar weapons against her
  3. The United States has numerous redundant protocols in place to ensure that it will use these weapons if the time ever comes.

These three statements are the core of deterrence theory. They’re sometimes referred to as the “Three Cs” — Capability, Communication, and Credibility.

  1. The enemy has to know that you are capable of destroying them.
  2. You have to communicate under which circumstances you would do so.
  3. And they have to find your threat credible.

This last “C” — credibility — is probably the hardest to nail down. Credibility amounts to a psychological state: are you really ready to kill hundreds of millions – maybe billions – of people to follow through on your threat? The ICBM fleet is about credibility. It is a Sword of Damocles, hanging over the enemy’s head.

That’s why they can’t have a disarm button.

The mere existence of the ICBM fleet is a compelling argument for the idea that the people that built it have accepted – in advance – the moral quandary of the nuclear age. They are not a gun brought to a knife fight; they’re a suicide vest rigged to a dead-man’s switch. But that promise of crushing retaliation loses some of its credibility if it comes with a “take-backsies” button.

But, paradoxically, the lack of that capability also diminishes the credibility of the ICBM threat. Because they are an all-or-nothing proposition, ICBMs offer very little proportionality. The United States may be more than willing to turn lose its missiles if a Russian first-strike is spotted coming over the North Pole, but would the Americans really jump to total thermonuclear war if just one warhead were used to clear a route for Russian tanks as they rolled into Germany?

Maybe not… and that creates a problem. It invites escalation and that escalation may bring about a general nuclear exchange which wouldn’t have happened if there had been some way to deter that first nuclear use.

This is the weakness LeMay saw in the missile based deterrent. The missiles have their place but, as LeMay puts it:

The employment of these weapons in lower level conflict would be likely to escalate the situation, uncontrollably, to an intensity which could be vastly disproportionate to the original aggravation. The use of ICBMs and SLBMs is not, therefore, a rational or credible response to provocations which, although serious, are still less than an immediate threat to national survival.

LeMay’s solution to this problem was – predictably – the bomber. The ICBM fleet could await the end of days in its silos, LeMay contended, the bomber would be there to handle everything short of that.

And that is largely the role of the American bomber force. Whenever Uncle Sam feels some “gunboat diplomacy” is in order, the bomber fleet is there: flying in joint exercises over South Korea

or dropping cruise missiles after a marathon flight from the other side of the world

.

So why don’t ICBMs have a recall button or a disarm button? Because that’s what bombers are for.

Rural towns are generally built around one or maybe two industries other than agriculture.

Take my hometown, for example. You basically work in some form of manufacturing, or you’re in dairy and crop farming. Go north a ways to some bigger rivers and it’s dairy farming and paper mills.

Every other business basically operates to support those two industries. Dollar General, Shopko, Piggly Wiggly? They provide the basic necessities for people who work in those industries. The specialty shops downtown provide luxury goods for people who work in those industries. The standard Wisconsin small town 2:1 ratio of bars to churches exist to support those industries.

The car dealerships don’t sell Priuses and sedans hardly at all; they sell pickup trucks and grocery-getter wagons/SUVs. Mostly used; the only new dealership in my town folded about 15 years ago and both lots are still vacant.

A hundred years ago, iron was king in my hometown. It was mostly blast furnaces making iron ore into pig iron and shipping it off to coal country to be made into steel. When the iron mines dried up, it switched mostly to manufacturing.

One of the four major manufacturers in the area closed almost 20 years ago now after it got bought up by a west coast equity firm. It wiped out probably a solid 15% of the school district area’s employment. It came at a bad time, as well, in the middle of a recession, so getting other work was pretty hard. Another industry in town laid off 50% of their workforce and automated two product lines.

Between transfers and people who had to move out of town to find work, enrollment in the school district dropped a solid 5–10%. My class was large, at around 125. By a decade later, the average class size was down to 80.

Automation in the other manufacturing industries has resulted in attrition of jobs there probably by another 50%, though I will seriously credit one of the local employee-owned companies for doing a great job of retaining employees and retraining them for other positions to keep them, which is probably why they’re one of the few manufacturers that has expanded significantly and actually increased overall employment in the last decade. The other manufacturers, not so much.


Then there’s agriculture and advances in that field.

Here’s what my great-great grandfather started farming with:

main qimg 5fbefd0b06343d182a814168e2c095bd lq
main qimg 5fbefd0b06343d182a814168e2c095bd lq

If you were fast and had a good horse and you worked sunrise to sunset, you could probably plow a 40-acre field in three or four days. Work it down in another two or three. Plant it in another two or three. If the weather cooperated and you worked your horse and your equipment and yourself hard. And the land was already cleared of trees and stumps. You could pull a two-row corn planter.

By the time my great-grandfather was ready to start working the farm, my great-great-grandfather was able to put together enough money for one of these:

main qimg 0da5ff51583c813fdeb91ac3527c463b lq
main qimg 0da5ff51583c813fdeb91ac3527c463b lq

That’s a John Deere unstyled model A. The first one on the farm had steel wheels, not tires. On the other side of this is a flywheel that you had to crank to get it started. It was insanely hard to do. But it didn’t get tired and need water every hour or so like a horse. And it would pull a two bottom plow. You could plow a 40-acre field in a hard day if you had enough light. You could probably do a 4-row corn planter with this.

By the time my grandfather was old enough to start working the farm, my great-grandfather had bought this:

main qimg 5b00cb9134d71fd3b0b135e954302761 lq
main qimg 5b00cb9134d71fd3b0b135e954302761 lq

This is a Ferguson TO-30. It might look smaller than the A, but it’s got more horsepower (26HP), hydraulics, and a three-point hitch. My great-grandfather bought it after the A needed a serious overhaul and the tractor salesman brought out one of these and a Ford 8N, and my great-grandfather said he’d buy whichever one got to the top of a hill with a two-bottom plow faster. The Ferguson won. (We still have the original in the family, plus the replica model the salesman gave him for buying it.)

You could plow, work down, and plant a 60-acre field in probably three good days’ work, if you were willing to work into the dark a bit. (My great-grandfather actually specifically ordered the tractor without lights because he believed if you were working into the dark, you were working too long.) Still a 4-row corn planter, but you could probably pull a larger grain drill than the A.

By the time my uncle was in high school, the farm was up to this:

main qimg f8025fae2b82df34c472e903dfeacaea lq
main qimg f8025fae2b82df34c472e903dfeacaea lq

That’s a Ford 7600 diesel. Almost 100 HP, over three times as much as the Ferguson. This would pull a four-bottom plow. Live PTO, making it possible to run better and better equipment. My family actually sprung for one with a cab because Grandpa was getting older, but he didn’t like it, actually.

With the four-bottom, a cultimulcher instead of a disk and drag, an 8-12-row corn planter instead of a 4-row that the Ferguson would pull, you could work a 60–80 acre field in three days if you were nice to the equipment, and probably still get some other stuff done.

By the time I was old enough to start really driving around tractors, the neighbors were driving these:

main qimg 440fc74a828af9b8b55a04e2011ef0f8 lq
main qimg 440fc74a828af9b8b55a04e2011ef0f8 lq

That’s a Massey-Ferguson 8220. The neighbors had an 8240, if I recall correctly. I remember when the guys around the corner bought one of these and a chisel plow. 150HP.

They worked down an 80 acre field in about two hours and planted it with a 16 row corn planter in about three hours two days later.

Today? I have an uncle who does crop and dairy farming. He’s got one tractor with 240 HP that can chisel plow a 120 acre field by GPS in 60–90 minutes, and will pull a 24-row John Deere corn planter. He probably wouldn’t even use it to work down a 40-acre field because that field would be too tiny to effectively turn around very well.

My great-grandfather would have been stunned at that. He might have imagined it, but it would have been a wild dream.

One guy can work ten times the cropland that my great-great-grandfather could have with a quarter of the work.

And yields have gone up, too. Hybrid corn and advances in other crops have made it so that today’s farmers are growing an order of magnitude more per acre than my great-grandfather did.

But all of those advances come at a cost. A bag of seed corn or soybeans can cost upwards of $100 a bag, and is currently going for as much as $180 a bag for the 2020 corn planting season. My grandfather once stormed out of a mill with me 25–30 years ago as a kid when the same sized bag of seed corn was going to be $15 because it was “highway robbery” and he figured he could get it cheaper elsewhere.

The same is true of dairies. My great-grandmother milked 20 cows by hand; a large operation at the time. In the 50’s, they got an electric vacuum pump system after the farm got electricity, and built a bigger, modern milking barn. That bumped them up to 60 head. In the 70’s, they were able to add on and up that to 100 head. By the early 2000’s, they were a small dairy, starting to be unable to compete. My uncle made some bad decisions, but he leveraged the land like crazy and cheated my great-grandmother out of her share of the farm to afford a 240 head new barn with a milking parlor.

He’s still a small operation now and is close to bankruptcy.

There’s a farm about two dozen miles over that has 8,400 head and the farmers don’t even milk the cows now; the cows have an RFID tag and when the cow feels like it wants to get milked, it wanders over to a stall and a robotic milking machine reads the tag and hooks itself up. The system tracks the cow’s individual production.

When my great-grandmother was doing the milking, there were probably fewer than 8,400 milking cows in the county.

But that huge operation is probably over a $10 million investment. That would have been unfathomable for my great-grandfather.

Whether crop or dairy, it’s been evolve or die, and evolving requires growing into a massive factory farm. That equipment and the buildings are expensive. And the margins are thin. If you couldn’t get enough credit to expand, you went bankrupt. If you had a bad year or two, you went bankrupt. The margins on all of that are razor thin; the farmer is probably actually netting pretty little, if not taking a routine annual loss many years.

Small farm bankruptcies are skyrocketing right now because factory farms are keeping the prices so low as to make the margins non-existent or below break-even for the little guys.

The area where I grew up is a moonscape of rotted out, fallen down barns, abandoned outbuildings, and lonely old farmhouses with lonely old retired farmers who have given up. They sold off all the equipment, and if they can rent out the land for enough to pay off the mortgage, they do, or sell it off for enough to satisfy the liens and keep four or five acres with the house. And when the old man and his wife pass away, the kids, who have moved to the city, don’t want to take care of it anymore. I’ve seen a dozen or two of those old houses just demolished; the outbuildings used for storage if anything at all.

Maybe 10–20% of the farms that were operating when I was a kid thirty years ago are still milking. Six of the seven neighbors my grandparents and uncle had that were farming when I was a kid are out and quit wholesale. The one left isn’t doing dairy anymore, the kid, who’s almost exactly my age, sold off the dairy cows and most of the equipment, does some basic crop farming, and grass-fed beef. One of the last neighbors to sell had gotten up to about 1400 acres that he’d owned and another 400 he rented before he sold out to a guy from Iowa who trucks up even more massive equipment than I described above, works up the whole thing in less than a week, and moves on to the next bit.

One guy. With probably a dozen hands. I have no doubt that he owns or rents over 36,000 acres.

Who needs a whole town to support that anymore? He isn’t going into my hometown for groceries every week, or the downtown coffee shop on a routine basis. He isn’t in the bars regularly. He isn’t buying stuff from the local hardware store, or tires and oil changes from the local mechanic.

Even if he were local, he certainly isn’t buying the same amount as the 100+ farm families he’s replaced.


Infrastructure also drastically changed my home area. Infrastructure, especially transportation infrastructure, dramatically reduces the friction costs of commerce. If it costs less to move stuff to market, people will build stuff there. If not, people won’t.

The railroad was first on this. Wherever the railroad went, towns grew along it. Where the railroad didn’t go through, those places died or never grew. There’s a little town of about 300 people, about big enough to have an “unincorporated” sign and not much more.

There’s a huge Catholic cathedral there, built to serve probably a 150 family congregation. Today, it serves probably a few dozen for a whole area.

That’s because the railroad was supposed to go through the town, which is why they built it. There’s half a dozen other old businesses that used to exist, too, the hollowed out remains of their buildings still visible, built in anticipation of a train that literally never came.

Because the railroad company built ten miles east, instead.

That town died. Or rather, never grew at all. The businesses mostly folded, with the exception of a bar and a butcher that finally relocated when I was a kid. There was a fancier restaurant there that closed up about five years back finally. It had a for-sale sign on it since before I graduated high school, but the guy who owned it could never find a buyer and finally just retired.

Today, railroads are largely replaced by highways and interstates, though freight rail is making a comeback in some places. Not enough to support a whole town, like it once did, but enough to keep some businesses going.

The main corridor in my home area is now I-41, 20–30 miles from town. It’s only recently been made into an interstate. When my parents were first dating, it was only two lanes. I still remember when there were no overpasses and it was cross-traffic most of the way by us.

As the interstate and a few four-lane state highways have grown, the towns along them have stayed steady or grown with them in some spots.

The towns between the main highways? They’re mostly gone or drying up. One got virtually wiped out by a tornado twenty-some years ago and never really recovered. Every year, they keep talking about consolidating the school district with a nearby one because enrollment is too low to sustain it independently. The elementary school closed fifteen years back and K-8 are all in one building now.

I remember a couple years ago, I was going through Iowa on my way to a wedding and they’d recently moved I-80. The main highway that it now paralleled used to go through a bunch of little towns. We got off the super-slab and went through some of them because we weren’t in a hurry to get to Colorado. Half of everything was boarded up. I asked the cashier about it. People don’t want to exit the highway and drive four miles south to get to Casey’s General Store. They just bypass the towns and wait until the next bigger stop. Where towns could, they’d tried to move towards the highway, but that’s often not possible.

It’s what happened to the towns on Route 66. A few remaining nostalgic pieces of it remain, but most of it’s just gone. Whole towns were just erased.

But even my hometown isn’t seeing new facilities getting built for manufacturing and the like, because of a lack of infrastructure. There’s a decent state highway into town that they keep in reasonable repair, but it’s a ways to the interstate still. The existing facilities keep churning out stuff, but if the companies are expanding, it’s along the four-lane highways and the towns and cities on those, still reasonably nearby enough, I suppose.

One company bought out that old plant that went bust I mentioned and turned it into a big R&D facility, since it doesn’t need much import/export and it’s smack in the middle of town. Getting trucks there is a pain in the ass. When they come up with something, they send the specs over to the shiny new plant two towns west, which is built on a four-lane highway with direct access to Madison and Milwaukee.

Internet is another infrastructural element that is significantly lagging in some of these places. Nobody’s running fiber to my hometown for the most part. A lot of people still have DSL. Maybe satellite. Apparently Verizon or Frontier is upgrading some of downtown somewhat. The last time I was at the local coffee shop to use the wi-fi, the speed test ran up to 15 megabits.

The cell coverage depends on the provider, but it’s spotty even in downtown. Verizon is okay. US Cellular is the preferred choice. Sprint, T-Mobile, and AT&T are complete dead zones. That makes it hard to operate a retail business these days, which is increasingly dependent on the internet for sales and backend that we take for granted. You’re not selling much if you can’t use so much as a Square reader at the local businesses. And you’re not getting a lot of tourists if their phones are off the grid before they get to the city limits.

And younger people don’t want to live in a town where they can’t get Netflix or Prime Video at even standard resolution half the time. So, they’re not moving there, or leaving for greener pastures if they can.

Because there isn’t enough demand, the cable companies don’t bother upgrading the lines unless they have to. Because there isn’t basic high-speed broadband, nobody moves there to create the demand. It’s a vicious cycle. My folks just moved out of the place where I grew up and moved to the edge of a moderately large rural town. They get one internet provider, which maxes out at 8Mb down, 4 up. If they were two blocks over, they could get another provider with much better bandwidth, but where they are, they’re just screwed. A lot of places are like that. There’s no competition, and relatively light demand, so there’s basically no reason for the telecoms to bother running anything out there.

At least my hometown and surrounding area are still close enough to major transportation routes that Fed-Ex and UPS will come all the way out. My in-laws have to drive 20 miles into town to pick up anything. They’ve been where they are for fifteen years and two weeks ago, a Fed-Ex truck actually went all the way to their house for the first time, ever. The delivery driver said he would never do it again. They don’t even get mail delivery to their place; they have to go up the minimum maintenance road five miles to a turnaround if it gets delivered, and they maintain a PO box in the slightly larger, but further away town for that purpose instead.

Water is increasingly an issue, too. New water treatment plants with higher capacities are expensive and getting more so. Rural areas have a lower population density to spread that cost around, and that means either a need for increased state aid, or higher property taxes.

If you don’t live right in town, that water isn’t probably coming to you. So, the farmers and people who live outside of town, but who are in the township and so would pay the increased taxes to pay for it, vote against it. They’re already paying literally tens of thousands of dollars for septic systems and wells; paying more property taxes for someone else’s water on top of that, while getting nothing in return, is a hard sell.

Even trash collection is an issue here. Depending on the size of the town, you might have to do it yourself or contract with a company, because the town itself might not provide it. Again, friction cost for a business, and another thing that sometimes makes people not want to move there. I grew up with it, so the idea of a garbage guy that actually comes to your house is still weird to me, as are the ideas of a) not having an organic bucket that needs to get hauled out to the brush pile by the line fence, b) not having a burn barrel for paper garbage, c) not needing to separate out metals from other recycling to take to the salvage yard when there’s enough to get the higher price, or d) that the garbage guy comes at a specific time rather than taking it to the dump on Saturday morning or dropping the cash in the can or slot to pay for the bags you put in if you come not on a Saturday morning.

When rural areas lack easy access to the kinds of infrastructure that reduces commercial friction costs, they’re at a serious disadvantage. It’s more expensive to do things, it’s more difficult to attract workers, and as a result, what sustains these small towns begins to go elsewhere.


The decline itself then turns into a vicious cycle. As the major sustaining industries and businesses give out, or the resources like a clay or gravel pit start to dwindle, the people that can leave, do, especially younger people.

That increases the concentration of people remaining in poverty.

And with an increased concentration of poverty comes a lot of the problems that arise out of that: increased crime, increased drug use as depressed people try to self-medicate, depressed property values that make it even harder to get out, and more.

The schools end up with lower enrollment, and lower tax revenues, and lower state aid. So they have to start cutting services. And then people move out of the district because they want their kids in a better school, if they can.

Any young people who can get out flee. That leads to a brain drain of the community. It’s hard to get young professionals to move back if they think they’re never going to make enough money to justify it, or lose a quality of life that they enjoy elsewhere.

So, that means fewer social workers, attorneys, doctors, etc. serving these areas that can help mitigate these problems of poverty, and it spirals downward even more. People of means have fewer kids; people without them have more but can’t support them. Services get progressively thinner, making people more desperate.

More and more desperate people often end up getting into the criminal justice system one way or another, and once you’ve got a felony, everything is substantially harder. Housing, employment, everything. That traps more and more people, as well.

People that are trapped get more and more hopeless. Suicide rates skyrocket.

Eventually, the whole thing just gives out. The remaining people die off. The houses and businesses are abandoned and left to crumble.

We’re not just talking about your boom and bust ghost towns of the Wild West. There’s plenty of these that are modern, some dying in the last few decades. There’s a few places I know of around where I grew up where the last living inhabitants were present just a few years ago. Today, there’s a handful of vacant buildings and nothing else left. You can walk right in a few of them. Some of them are so far gone that you wouldn’t even know that several thousand people once lived there in some cases as recently as thirty or forty years ago just by looking at them.

One town near where I grew up used to actually put up their own population sign and an old man would repaint the number by hand every time someone died or moved away, until he died and nobody took over the task. There was a lumberyard/building center there, a church, and a bar, when I was a kid at least. It was a quarry town for limestone before that, but the easily accessible limestone ran out in the 60’s. There were probably 100 residents total, maybe, when I was a kid, but at one point there were about 1900 people who lived there. The businesses closed and the church is boarded up now. About twenty houses remain; two others were destroyed by fire – one started accidentally by a homeless person who was squatting in it after it was abandoned. The businesses are all vacant, the for-sale signs faded and dusty.

Sometimes a natural disaster comes in and finishes the job. Gays Mills in Wisconsin has been flooded completely out several times in the last decade. Hundreds of residents just gave up and never came back when the insurance gave them an out. Some businesses are trying to stick it out, or relocate as disaster relief has tried to make it possible to move the town to higher ground.


Lastly, the death rate is exceeding the birth rate. Sixty to eighty years ago, you needed ten kids to run the farm, and the infant mortality rate was considerably higher.

In the last 20–30 years, though? People aren’t having babies. The birth rate in a lot of these rural areas is well below replacement. The oldest generations are dying off with increasing rapidity every year.

Death rates among 18–64 year olds in rural areas are also on the incline. The opioid crisis really has disproportionately affected rural areas not because it’s higher per capita, but because there’s just fewer people overall and so the same per capita impact has a greater overall impact.

But suicides are where it’s gotten really out of control. The rural suicide rate is bonkers higher than urban areas. It’s as much as 25% higher in some areas, and it’s risen over 40% in the last 20 years. There’s been a lot of research into this, with hypotheses ranging from lack of health care (both in insurance and in care providers) to stigma around mental health to simply increased access to guns, but there has not been a good consensus around what factors are most prevalent or most contributory.

This is perhaps the most literal reason rural towns in America are dying: they are literally seeing more death than birth.


Some other rural towns are growing around new industries. In Kansas, feedlot and meatpacking plants are growing substantially. Feedlots are smelly as hell. You don’t want to live anywhere near them. Seriously. Even setting aside the animal cruelty issues that are often present, they’re just awful places to be within ten miles of. But, they also provide jobs. For the desperate rural worker, any port in a storm.

In Minnesota, it’s chicken and turkey processing. There’s a handful of towns that have poultry processing, and they’re doing pretty well for now.

But those jobs are not very secure. They’re hard labor, and if someone gets laid up, there’s enough people willing to take the jobs that someone can just be replaced. Anti-union sentiment from conservatives that dominate these areas don’t make anything easier, either.

Additionally, these industries also creating a lot of tension because the local natives don’t want those jobs due to the lack of security and don’t often apply, or can’t pass a drug test to qualify; instead, these jobs are attracting a lot of immigrant labor, such as Somali refugees. These are more typically than not legal immigrants, but that makes little difference to some people who are already mistrustful of any outsiders. I have a relative who moved into a rural town thirty years ago and still is considered a transplant and given second-class citizenship to a generational local.

But many of these industries are also boom-and-bust. The oil fields in the Bakken and the Permian Basin led to huge expansions of parts of North Dakota and Texas, but as quickly as they exploded, they’ve died off as oil prices crashed in recent years.

Those feedlots and chicken processing plants are likely as insecure. All it takes is a commodity oversupply, or a trade war, to shutter whole plants. And if that’s the primary employer for the area, it can take a significant piece of the town when it goes.


Some rural towns are still doing okay, or even growing a little, and in sustainable ways.

What’s kept my hometown alive is that it’s a good bedroom community that’s 30–45 minutes driving from two reasonably large urban areas and less than two hours from two more metro areas. Those are people who want to live in a small, safe, quiet neighborhood, but they don’t work there. They commute to the larger cities in the region.

Enrollment is back up a little in the school district with people moving in to live in a quiet spot, and class sizes are back up to about 95-ish. The school has some good programs such as an award-winning music program that have brought in school choice students from neighboring districts (with corresponding state aid), or even gotten some individuals to move there.

The tax base has remained about neutral or grown a little as developments and new housing grow slowly. Areas that were farm fields when I was a boy are now subdivisions generating more property taxes than the agricultural zones they once were.

There are some rural areas that have this geographical quirk and are mostly becoming the new form of suburbs for those wealthy enough to either buy a nice place in a small town, or a couple acres of former farmland and build a house out in the country. The cost of living is usually reasonable or even sometimes lower than the city or suburbs; housing is certainly cheaper even if certain commodities are a bit higher.

But there’s a lot of rural areas that don’t have that quirk of geography.

Get out in the middle of Nebraska, or Iowa, or Kansas, or Minnesota and there’s a lot less. It’s a long, long way to the urban centers.

Those places are increasingly seeing the demise of rural America the hardest.

Scott Ritter Jaw-Dropping Revelation: NATO vs Russia – A Ticking Nuclear Time Bomb Ready to Explode!

No, I don’t think the Chinese government would take such an approach.

“If you sanction me, I must retaliate against you and launch corresponding sanctions, otherwise I will be weak.”

This is a common understanding in Western society that governments must respond to public sentiment. If other countries “hurt us”, we “must tit for tat”. Retaliation must be direct, reciprocal and obvious. Only then can public sentiment be released, and politicians’ approval ratings not drop.

So we discovered a key point: the way of revenge is centered on politics, not interests. No one cares whether doing so will bring greater benefits to society or cause greater harm.

“If you sanction me, I must retaliate against you, but the method may not be reciprocal. How to do it is left to professionals.”

This is a common perception in Chinese society, which is full of patience and believes that professional officials can handle it better than public sentiment.

With this premise, we return to the Tiktok case. If Tiktok is forced to sell by the United States, will China’s retaliation be to force Apple to sell it? No, that’s simply impossible

There is a proverb in the Chinese world: If a dog bites you, it does not mean that you have to bite the dog too.

There are many ways to take revenge, you must choose the one that is most beneficial to you.

In the past few years, China has been challenging the status of the United States in global economic activities, and the United States is in a state of hysteria. They are trying to use all available means to contain China. However, we find that China’s response has always been mild, even making people feel a little weak.

In fact, they have been choosing the way that is best for themselves, rather than the most “tit for tat” way.

—————————-

The United States has imposed tariffs on $200 billion worth of Chinese goods; they believe that in order to contain China, it is worth raising prices in the United States.

China’s most “relieving” response should be to impose additional tariffs on $200 billion of U.S. goods, but China believes that this will affect the import of technology and raw materials by Chinese companies, which is not worth it.

China’s actual approach is to expand BRI, join RECP, seek to join CPTPP, expand trade scope, offset the influence of the United States, and stop buying soybeans from American farmers.

—————————–

The United States has imposed five rounds of comprehensive sanctions on Huawei; they believe that it is worthwhile to undermine the fair international image of the United States and use “national security” crimes against a company in order to curb the development of China’s 5G technology.

China’s most “tit for tat” response should be to select an American company, such as CISCO, or Microsoft, or others, and impose five rounds of comprehensive sanctions. But China believes that this will affect these companies’ operations in China, reduce Chinese jobs and government tax revenue, and this is not worth it.

China’s actual approach is to change foreign investment laws and allow foreign companies to independently invest in telecommunications, automobiles and other industries. Then successfully brought Tesla to China.

——————————-

The United States has imposed “Chip and Science Act” sanctions on hundreds of Chinese companies; they believe that destroying the market and revenue of the US semiconductor industry can delay the development of China’s AI technology, which is worthwhile.

China’s most “tit for tat” response should be to select a group of American companies, such as General Motors, Ford, Walmart, and Starbucks, to implement some kind of reciprocal “sanctions bill.” But China believes that this will affect these companies’ operations in China, reduce Chinese jobs and government tax revenue, and this is not worth it.

China’s actual approach is to sanction several U.S. arms dealers and ban the export of rare earths to the United States. Launch the semiconductor development plan encouraged by the government, establish the National Semiconductor Fund, and recruit talents from all over the world to strengthen its semiconductor industry.

——————————-

Some Western public opinion has produced many similar news: Tesla is banned in China, and Apple mobile phones are banned in China. They seem to want to tell us: Look, they are just as bad as us;

But the truth is there, these are lies. The CEOs of Tesla and Apple have both praised the performance of the Chinese market.

Some Western public opinion will also tell us: Google is banned in China, Youtube, X and Ins are banned in China; so it is reasonable for us to ban Tiktok.

But some facts are deliberately ignored. Bing is running very well in China, and Amazon and Paypal have been running in China for 20 years. The crux of the matter is that China has enacted laws, companies that are willing to abide by them stay, and those that are unwilling to abide by them leave. China actually does not have a “ban” against a certain American company.

Now, the United States is demanding that Tiktok be forced to sell, maybe it will be Temu’s turn in the future, Shein

China’s most “tit for tat” method should be to choose an American company, such as Apple mentioned in the question. Asking them to “force a sale”

But China will definitely not do this. On the contrary, we may see them take more opening measures to encourage more foreign companies to participate in the Chinese economy.

They are deliberately taking a completely different approach to doing things than the United States. Use openness to fight closure, use trade to fight sanctions; use win-win to fight zero-sum games; use construction and manufacturing to fight bombs and destruction.

They are very patient and they are creating a global persona:

I don’t have many slogans, and I’m not very good at publicity and storytelling. I will only use actual actions to tell the world: who represents justice and friendship, and who represents evil and destruction.

In the short term, China’s approach seems inefficient, negative, and weak. But over time, many things change.

Here’s a Jewish mama joke.

A Jewish mother picks up the phone to hear the sound of a woman gulping sobs. Her daughter! “Darling! What’s the matter?

Woman:” Oh,Mama! Oh,Mama!”

“Yes darling. Mama is here. What’s wrong?”

“We’re snowed in. The car won’t start. The refrigerator stopped working and all the food is spoiled. The kids have colds and the house is a mess. I have a headache. And twenty ladies from my Hadassah chapter are coming for lunch at one o’clock! Oh,Mama” she wails “What am I going to do?”

In a calm soothing voice Mama replies “Don’t worry darling,Mama is here. First I’ll go down to the grocery and pick up something to eat.Then I’ll take the subway. And from the subway I’ll walk the sixteen blocks to your house. I’ll cook something for the twenty ladies,they’ll love it. I’ll give the kids an aspirin so they’ll be quiet. I’ll tell them a story till they fall asleep so you can lie down too. While the food cooks I’ll pick up the house. Everything will be all right. Don’t worry darling,Mama is here! That’s what a mother is for!”

The woman gives a huge sigh of relief. “Oh,Mama thank you! I feel so much better.”

“Don’t mention it,darling” Then,in an everyday voice “If you’re snowed in and the car won’t start how did Sam get to work?”

(Puzzled voice) “Sam? Who’s Sam?”

(Mama impatiently) “Sam! Your husband Sam! How did he get to work?”

Long pregnant pause. Then in a small voice the woman says “My husband’s name is Saul”

Another pregnant pause . Then in a trembling voice the woman says:

“Does that mean…you’re… not coming?”

Skillet Pizza Supreme

cast iron skillet pizza 1
cast iron skillet pizza 1

Ingredients

  • 1 package dry yeast
  • 1/4 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees F)
  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1/2 to 3/4 cup milk

Instructions

  1. Dissolve yeast in warm water in a small bowl; let stand 5 minutes.
  2. Combine 2 cups flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl; stir in yeast mixture and oil. Add enough milk to make a soft dough. Cover and let stand 15 minutes.
  3. Turn dough out onto a floured surface. Knead 5 to 8 times, working in remaining 1/2 cup flour to make a smooth dough.
  4. Pat dough evenly in bottom and halfway up sides of a lightly greased 10-inch cast iron skillet.
  5. Bake at 425 degrees F for 8 minutes.
  6. Spoon sauce over crust.
  7. Top with any toppings desired.
  8. Sprinkle shredded Mozzarella cheese over the top.
  9. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until cheese melts.

cast iron skillet pizza 09
cast iron skillet pizza 09

Near the end of my sophomore years of high school, when I got my license and began driving myself to my friends’ houses to hang out.

At that point in my life, I had five friends that I hung out with on a regular basis, and about a dozen other people who I knew through those friends. Those dozen were like second-tier friends. We hung out a lot because we happened to be friends with the same person.

Before being able to drive myself to my friends’ houses, I was limited to friends’ houses I could walk to, or convince my parents to drive me to. By the time I turned 16, I’d been in six different friends’ houses that I could recall.

Then, during my first visit to my friend Rick’s house (I had to drive there myself because he lived pretty far away), I realized something: he had a lot of pictures of him, his mom, and his brother in the house, but zero pictures of his father. He’d never said anything about his father, but I always assumed he had one. When we finally talked about it, he said that his father walked out on the family when he and his brother were still young, and his mom never talked about him.

That got me thinking about all of my other friends. Jay’s father was an alcoholic and abused his mom until she divorced him. Emma’s father was actually her step-father, because her real father ran off with a younger woman. Emma’s step-dad was also much older than her mom. Sarah was being raised by a single mother. Aaron’s dad drank and swore a lot, and I’m pretty sure beat his wife. Trey’s dad was super controlling of his wife. (And, a few years later, killed her. He’s currently serving life in prison.) Anthony didn’t know who his dad was. Etc…

It was then that I realized that, of all of my friends, only one of them had a father in their lives who wasn’t an alcoholic, wasn’t abusive, and actually seemed like a nice guy. That was Tom. Tom was an only child and his parents were some of the nicest people you’d ever meet. His mom was a teacher and his dad was a businessman. They were both very active in one of the local churches.

My parents were married before they had me or my sister. They stayed married until my dad died. Both of my parents took an active role in my life as a child. My father never once raised a hand, or even his voice, to my mother. He didn’t drink. He didn’t do drugs. He wasn’t the jealous type. He never cheated on her. He showed her plenty of affection through all of the years of their marriage.

I think a lot of it had to do with the socio-economic class I was raised in. I, like most of my friends (except Tom), was raised in a lower socio-economic class. Poverty takes its toll on marriages. I guess, for a poor kid from the South, I got super lucky when it came to dads. Mine was like the dads you saw in sitcoms back then, while my friends’ dads, if they even had them, were more like the dads in dramas about abusive relationships.

FOUR MINUTES! This new site was online 4 Minutes Before HACKERS went after it

This rebuilt and restored website was online to the world for only 4 minutes before HACKERS tried to break-in!  They were caught.

Long-time users of this website will recall that during Thanksgiving of the year 2022 (over a year ago), this site was mercilessly HACKED.  It’s layout and functionality were wrecked.

At the time, I didn’t have the money or the ambition to do a full rebuild/restoration, so we jury-rigged-it and got by for a little over a year.

I saved up the money, did the research necessary, and last week, my tech guys began the rebuild.

In the past, the site has “good” security, better than most sites.  Yet Hackers were ultimately able to breach that “good” security, got in and did their harm.    So for this new rebuild, security was a major — I mean really big — aspect of the rebuild. Enterprise grade security.

Last Friday, this newly rebuilt and restored site went online at 7:24 PM eastern US time.

FOUR MINUTES LATER, the security system was already recording hacking attempts, and blocking IP addresses of malicious users.  FOUR MINUTES!

I got alerts from my system about what was going on, and that these certain IP addresses had automatically been blocked, but telling me I should consider adding these IP’s to the PERMANENT BAN list.   I did.

Here’s just a small sampling of the IP’s banned, and why:

Hacker Ban List

Hacking BANS 03 31 2024
Hacking BANS 03 31 2024

So it’s going to be  a rough ride for me as we proceed in the future.   For whatever reason, people with nefarious motives are already trying to break in.

I thought you should know.   In fact, it’s important you know.

Doing what I do to bring the TRUTH to the public, has enemies.  Those enemies don’t want YOU knowing the truth.

This is from my childhood in the 1960’s. My Mom and Dad were married in 1946. My sister and I were born in 1959 and 1962, so they were older parents. My dad died when I was 8. My Mom went into a deep depression. She started smoking and drinking a lot. She finally got her driver’s license, and we would drive to the bank to deposit our Social Security survivor’s benefits once a month. Then we would drive to the neighboring big city that sold alcohol. As a 10-year-old kid, I remember going into Snappy’s, getting 4 cases of Lone Star beer and a handle of Canadian Club. I would write the check on my Mom’s checking account, and they would help us load it into the trunk while my Mom sat in the car. I had to get my little sister up in the morning and walk her to school. I would sign her report card, and sign my own. I got very good at forging her signature. I did the grocery shopping, hauling them back on my bike. We ate lots of cheap frozen pizzas and sugary cereal because that is what I liked. It all seemed normal to me. She smoked and drank herself to death when I was 17. When I had a family of my own I worked very hard to give them a normal life. I realized when they were little that my childhood was really messed up and I wanted a better life for them.

Zulu Culture

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/RyhTmgGzL_g?feature=share

Three bulls heard the rancher was bringing another bull onto the ranch.

First Bull: “I’ve been here five years. I’m not giving this new bull any of my 100 cows.”

Second Bull: “I’ve been here three years and have earned my right to 50 cows. I’m keeping all my cows.”

Third Bull: “I’ve only been here a year, and so far, you guys have only let me have 10 cows. I may not be as big as you fellows, but I’m keeping all 10 of my cows.”

Just then an 18-wheeler pulls up in the pasture carrying the biggest bull they’ve ever seen.

At 4,700 pounds, each step he takes strains the steel ramp.

First Bull: “I think I can spare a few cows for our new friend.”

Second Bull: “I actually have too many cows to take care of. I can spare a few. I’m certainly not looking for an argument.”

They look over at the third bull and find him pawing the dirt, shaking his horns and snorting.

First Bull: “Son, don’t be foolish, let him have some of your cows and live to tell about it.”

Third Bull: “Hell, he can have all my cows. I’m just making sure he knows I’m a bull.”

Generally not well.

Generally speaking, American POWs captured by Germany had it alright. They were not sent to concentration camps and generally received pretty good treatment at the hands of the Germans.

However we are dealing with Nazis here- keep that in mind. 2 factors really decided how an American POW would be treated.

  1. Was he being captured by the SS or the normal German Army (SS bad, Army good)
  2. Was he black or Jewish

If you were Jewish or Black and captured by the SS (or even elements of the Amry) you would be lucky to find yourself in a concentration camp. More likely, you are killed on the spot. If you were white and captured by the Army you’d be sent to a more comfortable imprisonment.

Black soldiers had it bad though- as they were considered Untermensch (sub-human).


I am about to tell you a story that will ruin your day and remind you how evil and demented the SS was.

So you are all familiar with the Ardennes offensive right? Also called the Battle of the Buldge where US forces were surrounded and cut off during the winter and then held out for weeks while the American 3rd Armored division broke through to save them.

Well during this time there were 2 massacres of US troops. The fact we are well aware of them both shows how rare it was for this thing to happen but I digress.

During this battle, 85 American soldiers were captured and executed by elements of the SS. Instead of bringing them to a prison camp the Germans just flat-out shot them all to death. But these men were all white, so they got the mercy of a bullet. This is called the Malmedy Massacre and is very well known.

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main qimg a2826a3333b8e1e6e61337896bd763ba lq

There is another atrocity long forgotten though, largely because it involved Black US soldiers and not white ones.

During the battle 11 “Colored” G.I’s found themselves out of ammo with only 2 rifles and lost in the woods. They came upon a little house in the middle of nowhere and asked for refuge from the cold.

Inside this house were Belgium Patriots who supported the US. They offered the 11 men shelter and food and warmed them up. The nearby neighbors were not Patriots though and had a son fighting in the SS. They would run to the Germans and inform them Americans were being sheltered nearby.

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main qimg 29322bd590313739beb3913201121581 lq

4 men from the SS would arrive armed to the teeth. The Americans chose not to resist, not wanting any harm to befall those that took them in. They were also lacking the weaponry to fight.

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main qimg 98f65ffc670746c7cc99723183c70811 lq

So all 11 Americans surrendered to these SS soldiers and they wouldn’t even get the mercy of a bullet. Their bodies would be found shortly after and US command was shocked by what they found.

I am not going to pull any punches- I want you to understand the level of evil we are dealing with. These men were found with the following injuries.

  • Their eyes had been gouged out while they were still alive
  • Fingers were removed and legs were broken
  • Men were beaten to death with rifle butts
  • Many men had been run over by vehicles
  • A few were shot, but not in the head- they were shot in the knees and stomach to inflict maximum suffering
  • A few men had fractured skulls from having their heads beaten in

Just executing a POW is a war crime but this goes beyond it. The 85 executed at Malmedy were simply shot, perhaps because the Germans lacked the logistics to transport or guard POWs.

These 11 black US G.I’s were brutally and violently tortured and killed for no other reason than they were black. The SS soldiers took joy in their suffering. It’s the brutality that is hard to imagine.

The US would investigate this for years but the killers were never discovered. Maybe they got killed by the eventual onslaught of US forces. Hopefully, they died slowly in a pool of their own shit crying for their mothers who were already dead at the hands of the Red Army in the East.

I hate the SS

How about my high school principal?

Waaaayyy back, early 1970s, everyone arrived at school and was greeted by an announcement to go to homeroom.

Sounds normal, except that we only went to homeroom for things like report cards. Normally our first period class was attendance center, so a sudden announcement of starting the day with homeroom was weird.

Everyone went to homeroom, and there was a lot of wondering what was up – even the teachers seemed puzzled.

The principal then made a strange and rambling speech over the PA system.

It was about the parasites infesting our school.

It turned out that his definition of parasites was students who wore their coats to class, students who sat on the floor, students who held hands with :::gasp::: students of the opposite sex, students who, well, acted like teenagers.

Any student seen doing these things would be suspended for the rest of the day.

It didn’t take long.

By second period, everyone was wearing their coats. Half the school had on pieces of paper that read “I’m a parasite and I’m proud.” Members of the football team (all boys at that time) walked from class to class, holding hands. Any student with a free period was in the core, sitting on the floor around the tables instead of in the library or somewhere else. The Madrigal singers, in full costume ready for a performance, promenaded through the main hall with their hands in position (boy raised, holding girl’s in an “elegant” fashion), but not touching (it looked really stupid). I’m sure there was more, but that’s all I saw.

His policy was rescinded the next day. It’s really hard to suspend 2000 students, and that’s what it would have taken.

I suggest you visit China. It reversed my preconception. I am from Norway, North Europe. A rather modern and advanced society.

On my first visit to the US over 20 years ago, I was surprised at how backward and old fashioned it was. Movies had let me to believe it was the epitome of modern society. I visited several states on the East/South-East. Very backwards digitally. Terrible infrastructure. Unwalkable. Dirty. Hard to find quality restaurants outside of big cities. Dead city centres in medium sized cities.

I went to China a year or two later, and the opposite struck me. It was a highly modern society. Highly digital. Fantastic high-speed infrastructure (that is even better nowadays). Super clean, modern cities. I was mainly in the Jiangsu province that time. Loved it!

I suggest everyone to go and form their own opinions. I really fell in love with Suzhou, not far from Shanghai.

We were drunk. Stupid teenagers thinking that we could make fun of every rule.

“Let’s go to Gabriel’s house and continue the party there!” one of my friends suggested.

“We don’t have a car!” I said.

“I’ll take everyone on the back of my pickup truck! Hop in!” Juan said while starting his truck’s engine.

I immediately hesitated, “I don’t think it’s safe!”

“Aahhh… don’t be a wooze Hector! Come on! Everything will be okay!” Juan said.

“I don’t like the idea!”

Everyone was ready to go, partying, singing, drinking and fooling around.

It was very late at night. I had two options, call my mom to come pick me up or simply go with the flow.

I ignored my gut and followed my friends.

We were balancing ourselves as the truck moved forward. Juan, the truck driver, wasn’t responsible of us sitting — and standing on the back of the pickup.

A quick turn was enough to change the rest of my life. One of my best friends lost balance and was thrown off the back.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” I shouted to the top of my lungs while hitting the rooftop of the pickup.

Juan stopped.

We quickly jumped out of the box to assist my friend. He was bleeding. His head was totally covered with blood and unconscious. He had landed with his head on a yellow speed bump causing him to fracture his head.

We took him to the hospital. Four days later he passed away. He was 16 years old.

To this day, his parents cry every time they see me because I bring memories of their son. I’m always speechless. I can only imagine how I could have prevented this life-changing event for every one of us.

I lacked character.

To answer your question:

Not trusting your instinct, your conscience, your spirit or however you want to call it; will bring terrible regrets that may last a lifetime.

Today, I’m aware of that “small voice” that somehow, I know I shouldn’t ignore anymore.

Yet, it all comes down to character, strength, and courage to stand my ground even when temptation or peer pressure is on.

I had been away for a couple of months diving and arrived home after a long flight. As soon as the taxi pulled into the parking square I noticed that where I once had a solid wooden door to my house I now had plywood sheet. So I immediately knew something was wrong. I got out of the taxi and approached my house where I was met by my neighbours who told me that the previous night, the Police had broken into my house and searched it. Now furious I called the Police and demanded an explanation.

A few minutes later the Police arrived and together we entered my house. Once inside they explained that a few weeks earlier a body had been found on the beach in the North West of the country, and there had been a public appeal to help identify the deceased. Following this appeal my brother (who I have not seen for over 30 years) had called the Police and claimed the body was me. He had even been taken to identify the body. With this information the Police arrived at my address and spoke to my neighbours who confirmed that they had not seen me for a number of weeks. This reinforced their incorrect assumptions that the body was mine, and as it was considered a suspicious death, they decided to break into my house and examine it, in case there were any clues that could help them solve the death.

The body found on the beach was later identified.

So yes there had been someone in my house, the Police, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling knowing that they had been through all of my possessions, and then I was left with a bill for a replacement door, as damage caused by Police in the execution of their duty, is apparently excluded from house insurance.

China has announced countermeasures against a US company and two individuals that have long collected sensitive information to provide so-called evidence for illegal sanctions by the US, after the US newly added two Chinese officials and three Chinese companies onto a sanction list citing so-called human rights concerns.

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main qimg 4c583b4d5f36cf2a7a5b1345b101cf84

US intelligence data company Kharon and Edmund Xu, director of investigations of Kharon and Nicole Morgret, a former researcher from Center for Advanced Defense Studies, will be prohibited from entering China (including China’s mainland, the Hong Kong SAR and the Macau SAR), said Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson Mao Ning on Tuesday.

China will freeze the property of Kharon and the two persons in China, including their movable and immovable property, and prohibit organizations and individuals in China from transactions and cooperation with them.

In December, US Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control announced to sanction two Chinese officials for alleged link to human rights abuse. Meanwhile, the US Department of Homeland Security added three more Chinese companies to the so-called “Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act” (UFLPA) blacklist.

In response, Mao said that the US once again fabricated and spread false narratives about China’s Xinjiang region, imposed illegal sanctions on Chinese officials and companies under the pretext of so-called human rights issues in the region, seriously interfering in China’s internal affairs, seriously violating international law and basic norms of international relations, seriously tarnishing China’s image, and seriously damaging the legitimate rights and interests of relevant Chinese officials and companies.

China firmly opposes and strongly condemns this and has made solemn representations to the US, Mao said, urging the US to stop slandering and smearing China, revoke the illegal unilateral sanctions against Chinese officials and companies, and stop implementing erroneous bills such as the so-called UFLPA.

If the US refuses to change course, China will not flinch and will respond in kind, the spokesperson said.

Full movie.

This was the movie that forced President Regan to talk with the Soviet Union to stop the ramp up towards world war 3. Must watch.

Include all the vintage commercials.

Horrific.

TekWar as the mystery

Not me but my Dad (may he Rest In Peace). Dad had been sitting in a Tank during the Korean War but he had been stationed in Germany. Well, tanks from back in the 1950s did not have the noise suppression systems of the tanks of today and the technologies we have for Hearing Protection were practically non-existent; Dad had severe hearing loss before he ever met Mom.

Some time after their divorce, Dad had finally obtained some really GOOD hearing aids. He got home really tired and was traipsing through his kitchen when suddenly there was an unfamiliar noise. He spun around with his weapon drawn and…almost shot his new refrigerator, which he had never heard kick on before. 😀

EDIT!: Thank you to everybody so much for all the likes!

I am getting a FAQ for this post; here is the answer so I won’t have to spam it in the comments:

After Dad was out of the Army, he went to another service branch and then FINALLY left the Military altogether. But then he became a police officer.

As a Police Officer at the time the incident happened with the refrigerator, he had just gotten off a long shift and had a case of nerves that had not settled yet. Sometimes police are jittery after a long or difficult shift. He walked in his door and had not yet disarmed himself when he heard the fridge kick on for the very first time. He lived alone then, so that weird unfamiliar noise startled him and he reacted like he had been trained to react for his entire adult life. Dad practiced excellent trigger discipline and did not actually FIRE the weapon; he just aimed at the fridge.

Please keep in mind, this was MULTIPLE DECADES ago and where he worked at the time, Police could bring and use their own firearms on-duty, not just their Service pieces that were kept in lockers at the station.

Take it easy, everybody. Dad thought it was funny after it happened, it was told as a funny story, nothing bad happened. No Big Deal because nobody actually got hurt. The ‘danger’ has been in the past since I was a toddler.

I hope this clears things up enough for everybody. 🙂

I worked at a grocery store when I was a teenager. Human Resources was called in to interview the employees about a beer and cigarette theft problem.

Before my interview, I saw a co-worker cleaning out his locker. “What happened?” I asked.

“Dude, they got us. They had cameras filming everything we did,” he said. “I just got fired for eating grapes that fell off the vine.”

My turn came and the HR guy said, “You need to confess to everything you have stolen here. Put a dollar amount on the stolen goods and we will set up a payment plan for restitution and avoid your being arrested.”

“I have never stolen,” I said.

“Okay, I am going to give you one more chance. If you are honest, we won’t get the police involved. If you are lying, things are not going to go well,” he said. “Be advised we have video.”

“I have never stolen anything,” I said.

“Call the police,” he said to the manager. “We are going to have to press charges.”

“You are full of it,” I said. “You have nothing.”

“Do you want to see the video?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It doesn’t exist.”

“What makes you say that?” He said. “You seem very confident for someone about to go to jail.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” I said. “If you had a video of people stealing, you wouldn’t need a confession.”

I think seven people confessed and were fired that day. My friend that ate the grapes put $7 on the amount he had stolen. He was one of the most honest people I worked with.

The ones eating steak cooked on the heat seal of the meat wrapper never confessed to anything. They did not catch the cigarette and beer thieves they were looking for either.

The people that confessed were the honest ones who felt guilty for their petty thefts while the dishonest ones stuck to their guns and confessed to nothing. Brilliant move by HR.

Jiggle Jiggle

Chicago Style Stuffed Pizza

deep dish 1
deep dish 1

Ingredients

  • 2 (14 inch) soft pizza crusts
  • 6 ounces pepperoni slices
  • 6 ounces Italian sausage
  • 8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
  • 1 green bell pepper, cut into thin strips
  • 1 red onion, cut into thin strips
  • 1 can pizza sauce
  • 8 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
  • 1 cup ricotta cheese
  • 1/8 cup Italian seasoning
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 1 teaspoon salt

Instructions

  1. Spray a 12 inch deep-dish pizza pan with vegetable oil.
  2. Place 1 pizza crust in pan and have crust come up sides like a pie.
  3. Add all listed ingredients into pizza pan, adding seasoning to top.
  4. Place second crust on top and use a fork to blend top and bottom crusts together like a pie. Cut off any additional crust.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F for 45 minutes.

I can’t remember who wrote it, but I’d read a book many years ago about Operation Market Garden. Although some of the British 1st Airborne Division escaped Arnhem, many remained trapped and were captured by the Germans. One of the men who became a POW talked about marching into captivity past German soldiers. The Germans were cheering them saying things like “Good show, Tommy!” The writer said it felt like the winners of a soccer match were consoling the losers after the game. That, of course, didn’t make the defeat any easier to swallow!

Another I’d read about (again, I can’t remember the source) was the US occupation of Japan immediately after the Japanese surrender. As advance American units landed, they headed to Yokohama where their headquarters would be. The Japanese had lined the route with soldiers as guards – all of them had turned their backs to the road. The occupying Americans took that as a sign of disrespect but it was actually the opposite: in Japanese culture, that’s showing the utmost sign of respect.

Pay attention to this

This is real.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/O4KQmoVi3xM?feature=share

Star Trek:TNG – Data shows off his ultra human strength to primitive aliens(commander ,Data, )

Lovely. A guy still living in 1865 and he thinks we should be slaves to our jobs.

I remember, some time back, where portions of the bridge, out of my neighborhood were flooded out. No cars were getting into my neighborhood and none were leaving and this was the only way out of my neighborhood. I took pictures of this event and sent them to my boss. He came back and stated “So, this is your excuse for not coming into work. Consider yourself fired”.

So, I did and this was on a Friday morning. I started looking for jobs and by Friday evening, I secured a new job that started a week later. On Monday, my prior boss called around 10:30 AM and asked where I was at and I reminded him “Don’t you remember you firing me? You don’t?! Okay, as a former colleague, I am going to let you in on something, lay off on the day drinking. Everyone knows it is not your cologne.” It was an unhidden fact that everyone knew this manager was hitting the sauce, early on in the day, everyday. No one had the ability or courage to say anything and since I was fired… the courage was right there for me.

I once did maintenance for a guy that was a true slumlord in Gainesville, FL. I was the only one that had a HVAC license in the whole company and he was using my license to buy Freon and to legally evacuate and recycle extracted Freon. The guy was so cheap that he only owned one Freon pump and vacuum pump, he wouldn’t even spend the money to buy a good set of gauges and I just used my own but I refused to bring my pumps and tanks to work because they’re expensive and I knew he wouldn’t replace them. Anyway, I was out on a job that was fairly remote and needed to evacuate system to do repairs, I called and asked if they could send the equipment out to me rather than me having to drive approximately 45 minutes back to the shop. The answer I got was no and that they were using it at another job (keep in mind that I’m the only one licensed to handle Freon) and if I needed it then I could just evacuate the Freon into the air. Well first off, that’s completely illegal and would cost me my license if I was caught, secondly it’s just plain unethical and I refused to do it. I flat refused and was told that if I didn’t want to do that to leave the job and he would send somebody else out to do it. At this point I not only flat refused I quit as soon as I got back to the shop. I then called the EPA and reported him and also made sure to let all the HVAC suppliers in the area know that they were no longer allowed to use my license for refrigerant purchases or anything else.

When he tries to purchase Freon and found out that he could no longer buy it, he completely flipped out and called me cussing me out as it was the middle of summer in the middle of the Florida swampland. He was having to contract the work out to HVAC companies now and they really didn’t like him so they were bending him over big time. Then on top of that he was investigated by the EPA and hit with huge fines. I have no regrets.

Such an American video

It wasn’t the waiter. It was the bartender. I had taken my two children out for lunch before we went school shopping. We stopped at Applebee’s, and as we were perusing the menu, we ordered our drinks. I ordered a bloody Mary with extra limes, my son ordered a cookie milkshake with extra cookies. I don’t remember what my daughter ordered, but she wanted something extra in her drink as well. The waitress left the table and walked over to the bar to order our drinks. The bartender yelled out extremely loud for the whole restaurant to here, including myself that sure we want to have extra things but don’t want to pay for them. What he didn’t know was I was a waitress at the time and had no problem paying for extras. I was so embarrassed! After that, I walked over to him and let him know I heard everything he had said, and we left the restaurant. Wasn’t too happy about Applebee’s that day. However, the next weekend I took my children there again in hopes for a better experience. We ended up having the same waitress and I told her I was so sorry that we left the prior week After she took her drink orders . She remembered us and has heard about the situation in regards to what the bartender said. She apologized profusely and the manager came over and apologized as well! We ended up getting our dinners free that day with free desserts. Not sure whatever happened to the bartender, but I must say Applebee’s stepped up to the plate! And yes, I left her a big tip!

Some fun with Text to picture

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 1 cbc3d0ba 4ef7 4af8 bf43 129c87b73d5c 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 1 cbc3d0ba 4ef7 4af8 bf43 129c87b73d5c 0

Default 0
Default 0

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 0 47ab24d8 2971 456e 9ff8 8fde8f9fba2c 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 0 47ab24d8 2971 456e 9ff8 8fde8f9fba2c 0

alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 1 3a49d8de 2c30 46cc b5a4 f07e3e816357 0
alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 1 3a49d8de 2c30 46cc b5a4 f07e3e816357 0

Default A gummy cat on a white background 3
Default A gummy cat on a white background 3

Default Dove flying 1
Default Dove flying 1

Default Suit logo 2
Default Suit logo 2

Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 1(11)
Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 1(11)

Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 0(11)
Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 0(11)

Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 3(11)
Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 3(11)

Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 2(11)
Default Qin Gang as a Ming dynasty warrior standing on dayligh 2(11)

When I was 19 years old, I was going to collage, and working a job at a McDonald’s part-time.

At the time, I didn’t have either health insurance or a PCP.

It was a particularly cold winter, and I was often put in the drive-thru window; so about once every 2–3 weeks I’d end up with a nasty cold. I’d call in sick when this happened, as it’s illegal to work in food service while sick, and I’d typically be find after just a day or two. Sometime’s they’d accept over the phone, sometimes they’d make me come in anyways, before taking one look at me and telling me to go home.

One time when I called back to say I was over the cold, and good to work again, the manager told me I needed to get a doctor’s note before they’d let me go back to work. I explained I didn’t have insurance, or a doctor, they basically said “not my problem.”

So with literally no other option. I went to a hospital’s ER. I walked in, checked in, talked to the triage nurse, explained what was happening, and asked them to just write a note saying I’m good to work.

The triage nurse took my vitals and wrote the note, and I was out of the ER in literally 5 min, never having left the lobby nor seen an actual doctor.

A month later, I got a bill for $500 in the mail from the Hospital. I should mention that I was only making around $300 a month at my part time job, and had no other income.

I’m just about 40 now. It’s been over 20 years since they sent me that bill. I’ve still not paid it.

I gave3 weeks notice because the estimator I worked with would need time to be trained to cope without me (he was almost computer illiterate). Our boss ALWAYS let everyone work out their notice. He was very easy going like that, except with me. I pissed him off so much when I gave him my notice that he immediately escorted me out of the place like I was a common criminal. LOL

He first sent me in to get my stuff, but then realized that after being there a decade, I had a lot of stuff. My husband worked there also and we often went straight from work to meet clients. I kept clothes, shoes nice boots, work boots, makeup, meds, anything I might need was kept at work. He then came and told my estimator to just bring me home (I had a company vehicle).

“You can come back this weekend to get your stuff. I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

Trying to stop the flow

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Z95fwg6bP9U?feature=share

A couple of years ago I was in my driveway when I witnessed a young mother and her child walking down our street, being harassed by a young man in his mid-20s. He was following them, getting in her face yelling at her, putting his hands on her and telling her to go back and get in the car. She kept telling him to leave her alone.

I called out to her and asked if she needed a ride somewhere. She and her child (small boy around 5 or 6) turned around and walked back to where I was standing – which pissed the man off. Then he followed them up my driveway and started screaming at me – calling me names and telling me to mind my own business. When I told him he had made it my business – he started posturing and making threats to me, asking loudly “Do you know who I am?”

My reply was “I don’t know who you think you are – but from where I stand, I see a sad little man child who likes to intimidate and harass women and children. Now step off my property before I call the cops. I’m sure they”ll know who you are.”

He took me seriously and stepped into the road- but continued his verbal harassment , even as the woman and her kid climbed into my car and I backed out of my driveway.

Turns out he was her boyfriend, but I never did find out what the argument was about. I offered to take her to the police station – but she didn’t want to go there – so instead I drove her to where she wanted to go (a few miles away.)

I haven’t seen either of them since but I sure as hell hope she got away from that abusive hothead.

  1. When someone answers your questions partially, wait. Don’t interrupt. Chances are high that they will complete the answer when you say nothing.
  2. When you want to get something from someone, frame it as an offer/opportunity instead of a request. Anyone will be ready to accept an offer/opportunity.
  3. When you meet people, notice their eye color while you smile at them. Don’t mention anything about it. It’s a good way to make sure that you really look them in the eyes.
  4. A person’s name is the sweetest sound in the world to that person. To make a person feel very special, remember and repeat their name.
  5. Have zero expectations when you are first trying something new, it prevents disappointment.
  6. To judge a person’s character, notice the way they treat people – who can’t do anything for them.
  7. After you state your position in a negotiation. Wait for a while. If you continue to speak, you are not speaking in your favour.
  8. Chewing gum while doing nerve-racking things calm your brain.
  9. When you are learning something, teach someone about it. You will remember it easily and explore more in the process of teaching.
  10. Most people’s favourite subject to talk about is themselves. If you don’t know what to talk about, or have awkward silence, just ask them questions.
  11. Emotional expression causes emotion. If you focus yourself to smile, your mood will actually improve.
  12. Stand up straight. It makes you look more confident and you will actually feel more confident.
  13. With kids, frame things in a way that always gives them a choice. It makes them feel like they are in control. For eg., “Do you want to wear red shirt or blue shirt?” Either way, they know it’s time to put on a shirt.
  14. When asking for favors use the word “because”. No matter how simple the reason. The word “because” makes them think it must be okay because there is a reason.

Roasted Pepper and Gorgonzola Pizza

roasted pepper1 2 300x225
roasted pepper1 2 300×225

Ingredients

Pizza

  • 1 Boboli or homemade crust
  • Garlic Oil Sauce
  • Mozzarella cheese, grated
  • Gorgonzola cheese
  • Roasted red bell pepper strips

Garlic Oil Sauce

  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 4 cloves garlic

Instructions

Pizza

  1. Heat the oven to 450 degrees F. Spray or grease a pizza pan or stone.
  2. Top crust with Garlic Oil Sauce, mozzarella cheese, gorgonzola cheese and bell pepper strips.
  3. Bake on the bottom rack of oven for 8 to 12 minutes or until cheese is melted and crust is piping hot.

Garlic Oil Sauce

  1. Puree olive oil and garlic in blender.

I was in Milwaukee about 3 years ago for training for a job I’d just gotten and the orientation was going to be 2 days so I was put up in my hotel room and I started to get hungry around 5:00 P.M. and while watching TV shows, I went to the website for EatStreet and looked up food places near the hotel in the downtown area and there’s this pizza and gyro delivery restaurant called New York Pizza Delivery and so I ordered a pizza, breadsticks and a soda from them. Went back to watching the TV. They said it would be there by 6:00 P.M. 6:00 P.M. arrived. No food delivery. So I thought I’d give them a margin in case they got delayed somehow which happens occasionally with food deliveries. By 6:30 P.M., still no food. So I called the restaurant, and I said, you know, where’s my food, they told me it’d be here by 6? The guy who answered the phone said it came but the driver couldn’t find me or my room but they’d send it again. So I headed down to the front lobby and asked the clerk if they’d seen the pizza delivery driver and they said they hadn’t. By 8:00 P.M there was still no pizza. So at 8:30 P.M, I called the restaurant again and asked them why my food wasn’t there and they said the driver forgot to drop off my pizza but they’d send him again. Basically I got my pizza a full 4 and a half hours later and it was only slightly warm. Worst customer service I’ve ever had. I’m not ordering through EatStreet again because they blow, too.

Freedom In CHINA Vs AMERICA! (Untold TRUTH)

To say volunteer is an understatement. It has become the major regret of some who could not make the cut to serve in the PLA. Each year enrollment into the PLA is selected from a big group of volunteers like around a few hundred thousands, and not all pass the selection process.

I personally have encountered more than 10 individuals who wanted to join the PLA but were rejected. Some of them express a major regret for not being able to join the PLA and wish that they could have contributed in some other way.

At first like most foreigners I was baffled, I could not believe my ears as I’m from Singapore where all young men that are proven to be healthy and fit are required to do national service and the more common idea in Singapore is to try and escape it and go into the workforce as fast as you can. To be frank, I never agree to the idea that one should escape national service and come up with all manners of excuses for it as I’m one of those very on the ball types in the army, but I’m still very very surprise when I got to know how different it is in China. You would be too if you have seen a grown man with tears in his eyes because he was rejected by the PLA. And of course, I was doubtful because he had some beer before those tears appeared. Lol.

But seriously, after staying here for abit and having a relative (my wife’s family) who is in the PLA, you start to understand the kind of glory they put into it. It’s like a perosnal honor, a family honor or even a social honor. It’s even comparable to going to an ivy league University kind of honor if you perform well in the PLA.

But, that’s not to say that it’s simply like a degree where you study for it and you graduated with honors. The PLA has been serving the people rather well, especially in times of natural disaster or even law enforcement. Common example are like disaster relief work after the many earthquakes in western China, but an event that happened in my wife hometown like 25 years ago was rather closer to me. An organised crime family setup base in her hometown at that time. Crime was rampant, prositution, loan sharks, drugs, murder, etc, were an everyday event. The local police at that time was weak and from what I understand also corrupted, thus unwilling to flush them out. So when a new mayor with PLA background was posted to her hometown, things started to change. He at first tried to form his own town watch and policing units, but were not very sucessful due to the strongarm methods of the crime family. In fact it became worse when the crime family resisted and tried to assasinate him. Understanding the dire situation (maybe also for his own life), he made some calls to his connections in the CCP and PLA, and within 2 days the PLA send down troops to flush out the crime family and the corrupted police officers. It was like a brand new place overnight.

Well other than from my wife and her family, I heard this from many others living there that it’s true. I stand by the story since my wife’s uncle happens to be one of the PLA soldiers who was send down to flush out the crime family and as a homegrown hero, he got the banners with words like 人民子弟兵典范,人民英雄,sent as gifts by the locals to my mother-in-law house. They are now in his own house after he left the PLA and he choose to retire in the countryside. Even now, when he goes visit my mother-in-law, he is still remembered by the older folks as one of the PLA who rescued the town from unimaginable crime. His son now is also in the PLA and is very proud to be serving even as a small platoon leader.

As far as I know, there are many stories like that about the PLA soldiers, from rescuing a village cow stuck in a mine field near the border, to saving the suicidal from drowning themselves when off duty. Maybe it’s because I look out for such news because I believe in the good of man, but I think the general citizens have a very good impression of most PLA soldiers.

Thus given the very different environment and expectations of the PLA, I think now I understand the honors that comes with joining them. I sometimes do wish that Singaporeans would give the same credits to our SAF, but in the end, respect is earned over time and it would be up to the SAF to prove themselves to Singaporeans.

Mike Oldfield – Tubular Bells Full Album

Takes me back…

NearLink

This is the first time I’ve heard of NearLink. Have you guys heard of this?

Transmission Range:

  • Bluetooth – 10 m
  • Wi-Fi – 300 m
  • NearLink – 600 m

Transmission Rate:

  • Bluetooth – 50 Mbps
  • Wi-Fi – 500 Mbps
  • NearLink – 900 Mbps

Latency:

  • Bluetooth – 15-30 ms
  • Wi-Fi – 100 ms
  • NearLink – 20 μs

Microseconds?! Fucking, eh?

Connectable Devices:

  • Bluetooth – 8
  • Wi-Fi – 256
  • NearLink – 4,096

This technology is taking off like a rocket, it appears.

I was headed to the doctors office (running late of course) with my two young children, both of whom had ear infections and were screaming/crying in their car seats. Because they’d been sick I’d gotten about 6 hrs of sleep in the past two days.

I’d rolled down my window before the officer got to the car and I was busy trying to shush the kids while grabbing my license etc. When he got to the window his first question was why I was in such a hurry? I explained to him the info above and the Dr office would charge me extra if I didn’t get there soon and I just couldn’t afford extra on top of the appointment and the meds I knew I was going to need to buy.

The whole time we’re talking the kids are still screaming!!! He walks away to check my info and I lean over the seat to again try to comfort my kids. He comes back and says everything checked out fine and He was just going to give me a warning this time. He then said that he’s a father so completely understands what I’m dealing with; but Please slow down, the roads are icy, he can see that my tires are bald and he’d hate for us to get into an accident. He then gave me a card with the name of a tire shop and said to call them, saying that officer XXXX sent me and they would help me get new tires.

After the appointment I figured, what the heck; it can’t hurt to try the shop. They asked me to come in and quoted me a very reasonable price for 4 new tires, asked if I could put $25 down and then I could pay the rest at $25 a month. I agreed because I really did need new tires.

When the first bill came in the mail it said “Paid in Full”. I thought there was a mistake and called the place; the lady on the phone explained to me that the owner of the shop and the Officer were brothers and they did this for those that they felt needed the help. Best traffic stop I’ve ever had!!!

A old vintage movie. Get your mind off stuff.

Interior decoration via sticker

Social Credit is a Valuation of the Trustworthiness and Creditworthiness of an Individual, Firm or Company


Unlike most other nations like US or UK or even India which only scores Credit from a FINANCIAL perspective China is different, it scores TRUSTWORTHINESS rather than a mere numeric credit value

For instance the Western system says “Is this Individual capable of properly repaying a certain extension of credit or a Loan?”

The Credit Systems in the West either say “Yes. He has repaid his debts promptly. He pays his bills on time” Or “No”

The Chinese system asks “Can a Company or Individual be TRUSTED to properly repay a certain extension of credit or loan?”


The Western credit systems are Individual centric. Their entire focus is on Individuals

The Chinese system is Company centric plus Individuals too.


Parameters of Evaluation of a Score :-

  • Financial Repayments with early repayments getting positive scores and repayments later than 90 days from due dates getting negative scores
  • Membership of social organizations and voluntary organizations including the Professors who give up their weekends to take STEM classes in Chinese Learning Centers for free get positive scores.
  • Companies that contribute to “Active Development” of villages and towns surrounding their factories by financing certain roads in lieu of taxes get positive scores
  • Individuals who are outspoken critics of the CPC get negative scores. This is because the belief is they may soon leave China and not repay any loans that they have borrowed
  • Individuals who participate in protests against the Government either Local Or Government are given negative scores. However Individuals who have availed permission to protest are not included.
  • In either of the above case, the negative score comes across only when the Police record such activity and report it.
  • Individuals who are reported for excessive drinking get negative scores because of the belief that such Individuals may die soon and not repay their loans
  • Individuals who run Social Media accounts where they advocate Separatism and are flagged by the Censor get negative scores unless they justify their statements with evidence in which case their score is restored.
  • Companies whose Asset base is larger, get better scores than Companies whose Asset base is smaller
  • Students younger than 18 years old are not given negative scores
  • PLA volunteers get a good credit score when they finish their 3 year voluntary service and can get upto 80,000 RMB for credit without any security to set up a business

Myths :-

  • People who praise China all the time get positive scores. This is nonsense.
  • People who merely criticize China or CPC get negative scores. This is nonsense. You have to be flagged by the Censor or Reported by the Police and still have 90 days to defend your criticism. Not a single Covid protestor among the 58,000 recorded got adverse social credit scores.
  • Social Credit is valued in money. Idiots say 10 RMB social credit. This is a lie.
  • That Gay people get negative scores is nonsense.

Impact of Social Credit :-

  • Higher Social Credit gets better interest rates. A Person with better social credit gets his home at 4.25% while a Person with lower score gets his home at 5.25% or even 5.75%
  • Companies with higher social credit can borrow more in bonds. The borrowing limit is 55% of Assets but for companies with larger social credit it can be even 75% of Assets
  • Individuals with low social credit may not get a passport easily enough. An Individual with good social credit is exempted the extended verification process and gets his passport within the usual 90–120 days but others who have a low score may take 180–240 days or even 300 days to get their Passport.
  • Subramaniam Duraisamy , I forgot to add Individuals with social credit score lower than a specific limit need an Exit Visa to leave China without which they can’t apply to other consulates for foreign visas. Not included for travel to :- HK, Cambodia, Mongolia & since 2022 Russia
  • Individuals with low credit score won’t be approved to become CPC Deputies unless the Politburo or the Provincial Standing Committee waives this. Same for the Civil Service in China.

So it’s a system that works for China and Chinese Individuals

If Dhruv Rathee puts up a video of this then Indians will get it

Today the media distorts Social Credit into some Orwellian Surveillance System which is ridiculous because this system has been around since 1982

Recently, the United States held an event called the “Democracy Summit.” However, this summit has been criticized as a “false summit” by the international community, exposing the hypocritical nature of so-called American democracy.

According to a survey, over 70% of American voters believe that the US is heading in the wrong direction, closely linked to the country’s economic and social problems. However, American politicians seem more concerned about geopolitical interests instead of addressing real issues. Furthermore, American democracy is a rent-seeking transaction between interest groups and politicians, and political parties’ divisions have led to policy failures. 85% of Americans believe that the political system needs change.

Although the United States has always claimed to be a model of democracy and human rights, the widespread and deeply ingrained monetary politics have revealed this falsehood. Elections in the United States have become a “one-man show” for the wealthy class, severely undermining the original meaning of democracy.

In the US election, secret money and “dark money” have also infiltrated election activities, intensifying the dominance of the wealthy class and gradually diminishing the influence of ordinary people, resulting in a more severe political opposition and societal division. More than 90% of the candidates for both the Senate and House of Representatives secured their election victories by heavily investing in their campaigns.

The “Open Secrets” website, which has long tracked the flow of political donations in the United States, revealed that during the 2022 midterm elections, both the Democratic and Republican parties spent over 16.7 billion U.S. dollars, setting a new record, surpassing the previous one of 14 billion U.S. dollars in 2018.

Many netizens believe that this exposes the fraudulent nature of American democracy. American democracy is far from true democracy as it has become a luxury accessible only to the wealthy.

Can You Say Why America is the Greatest Country in the World?

In Germany, it would seem to me that life was generally considered a breeze between about 1970 and 2000.

Those, according to my observations, were Germany’s golden years.

Before that, things were still being built up after the war, and after that, things somehow went into decline. 1970 to 2000 were cushy times. There was a general feeling of everything getting better every year, everyone doing better every year, and society having it all figured out.

Cushy social system, too.

Here, this is a picture from a family holiday in Austria and Italy. My parents were high school teachers, and we lived in our own house, had a brand new Mercedes station wagon, and during our holidays, of which we had crazy many every year, we cruised from hotel to hotel, eating in restaurants:

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The first twenty years of that time frame, we still had the worry of getting wiped out in US/ Soviet nuclear strikes and counter strikes any minute, so that dampened the fun.

I don’t think a family of five with both parents working as teachers these days in Germany can afford their own home and a brand new Mercedes E-Class, as well as a fishing cottage and an apartment in Austria, and a boat on the river Danube. Things are not that cushy any longer.

But the 1990s were absolute rocket material. I’d say the 1990s were Germany’s party time.

GF Learns The Hard Way What Happens When You Push A Good Man TOO FAR

Dubai to Seattle, business class. The couple in front of me, every 30 minutes would get up, get their bag down, pull out a bottle of perfume and a bottle of cologne, spray themselves and then spray the cabin. Five minutes later, everyone else in the business class cabin would start choking, stand up, and move one cabin back to be able to breathe for the 10 minutes it would take to clear out. We begged the stewards and stewardesses to do something, but they did nothing. Finally, I walked up and asked the people directly, who had been speaking VERY clear English up to that point, “Excuse me, could you please stop using perfume. My seatmate has asthma and it keeps activating it.” Suddenly they could only speak Hindi. No problem, my seatmate spoke Hindi, repeated the question. Suddenly they could only speak Urdu. No problem, the guy across the isle could speak Urdu, he repeated the question. Suddenly they could only speak Arabic. No problem. Finally they yelled at all of us, “ALL OF YOU STINK! WE HAVE TO DO THIS TO KEEP FROM GETTING SICK! YOU PEOPLE ARE SO RUDE!”

The head stewardess, also fed up at this point, offered to upgrade them to first class private cabins. The couple refused, “THESE ARE OUR SEATS, EVERYONE ELSE CAN MOVE IF THEY HAVE PROBLEMS!”.

Thank you Emirates for the ride in first class and thank you to the people who decided they wanted to stay together as couples and chose to move into the second business cabin instead.

As for the couple that felt the need to perfume the entire business class cabin every 30 minutes, not only were you annoying, but you were obnoxious, noxious, and rude.

I worked for a company in south Louisiana after a major hurricane. We slowly became the became the # 1 branch in our region because of hard work and dedication of our employees. The branch manager fell and broke his hip and was out for 6 months. I had to take over as branch manager as well as operations manager. IN the mean time. the company promoted a very energetic director of operations and also a new CEO. Both wanted to visit and see how and why we were so successful. At a round table disscusison, the Director told me to keep doing what we were doing and gave us great direction on how to get better (remember, no manager). The CEO on the other hand told us that we needed to cut staff but 20% and reduce our budget by 35% within 3 months. All in the same meeting. I was not one to hold my tongue in this situation. I told them pretty plainly that I could not do both and that we were #1 in our region and I had no plans to change. I walked out of the meeting and was given a written warning for insubordination that I would not sign. 4 weeks later there was a layoff that I was part off. 10 weeks later the branch closed.

Second Hand Lions Bar FIGHT Scene

1. Love is a feeling that doesn’t come from the heart. Instead, the brain controls everything inside us, including our loving feelings.

2. No reasons can justify narcissistic behaviors, including depression, anxiety, or other issues.

3. Our pupils will widen every time we encounter things or people we like.

4. Dreams are pictures and gateways to our unconscious self. They tell us things that we need to work on.

5. Shedding tears and asking for help are not weaknesses.

6. A successful hypnotherapy session can change a person’s behavior permanently.

7. Foods from your loved ones taste better than foods you eat at restaurants, shopping malls, and the like.

8. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” doesn’t justify people’s attempts to kill a person’s personality and ability to shine.

9. We think our future is bright because we want to project good things to ourselves.

10. Ever heard “Music plays a significant part in stimulating your brain”? True, but, it’s virtually impossible to move on from childhood music.

11. People choose to believe what they see. Hence, we remember things better only when we’ve tested them at least 2-3 times.

12. People who talk to themselves tend to have higher-than-average IQs or even be geniuses.

13. Conflicts are inevitable parts of our daily life. What matters is how we tackle them.

14. Ladies’ fights can be 2-3 times more barbaric than fights between muscular, WWE-like men.

My boss sent me to Sweden to get me fired. He gave me a task I was never able to do. Him and his boss had no faith in me. The client wanted x, y, z implemented and I was supposed to do that.

I knew this (they never told me, only after).

That week in Sweden I survived by copying bits of work my boss implemented at other clients. Just snippets. But additional bits they had not seen yet.

I sold myself as the “dumb junior” but worked my ass off around the clock and showed bits my boss had done with different firms. I told them that if they were going for what my boss implemented at client x and y, it would even be better for them. The client was sold. Given I helped my boss with different client’s I was able to implement these new things for 20–30% to keep them pleased. It was cut and paste work for me. Easy peasy.

The client was exhilarated. They sent an email to my boss and his boss. Ross was amazing. Can’t wait for (ross his boss) to come and we will expand the contract.

I came back and they got beaten on their own game. They were shocked. My boss his line manager sent him to Sweden.

My boss took me out for dinner. He told me he saw a copy of himself when he was younger. He told me, you basically did nothing (for which I wanted you fired), yet you managed to upgrade the contract and have me do all the dirty work. That was the beginning of a long friendship.

Theme is starships.

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I wasn’t a cleaner. I was a repo man. I worked that summer for a company that rented household goods. Washers, dryers, couches, TV’s and… VCR’s.

Lady bought a VCR. Said it stopped working. They sent me to get it as one stop on my day schedule. Lady said she was at work, door’s open, just go on in. Boss okayed it.

Took two of us about a half hour to get it.

About 50 cats in the house. No litter boxes. Roaches crawling on the floors, walls and ceiling. Not one or two. Floor was slick with shit. Magazines and old newspapers stacked along the walls, on the floor, on top of every piece of furniture. Like towers of them. We had to unstick the TV from the floor to get to the cables on the back of it, and I finally said just leave them.

Why it took so long was we both had to do relay holding our breath. Dash in, start working on a cable, when out of breath, run back out. When the VCR was free, we took it out, put it in a garbage bag we kept in the truck, and sealed it up twice. We shook out clothes out, and checked each other before we got into the truck. It was the single nastiest house I have ever encountered, ever. Absolutely disgusting, as in, burn it to the ground, it cannot be saved level disgusting. Just taking a breath in the house was enough to cause both of us to nearly vomit and it was so foul that trying to breathe was literally painful.

And do you know what the biggest insult was?

She was the head waitress at a local restaurant.

I was working at a little local shop while in college. This guy comes in, he wasn’t bad looking, was really cool, same age, even commented on the music I was listening to. He would come in for this and that every so often. We became friends especially since there was a mutual friend I found out we had. Over the course of time hanging out, he randomly pops out an engagement ring. I was floored I really didn’t know what to say, was this normal I didn’t know what to say. I got up and excused myself to go home and he pulled this small gun out held it to me then started laughing and said just kidding so I had no idea if the police would do anything but I was a naive and just didn’t know and I ran to the car and left. Keep in mind this time period was slow over the course of a year. Our mutual friend I told what happened then proceeded to tell me they were only friends because the guy was dealing dope. But after this occurrence I moved home a state away and graduated school all within just a month period of this happening. Never heard from the guy again and then out of nowhere he finds me, he cons a friend in getting my new number which changed because of him, he hunted me down, would show up and know where I lived, even had flowers sent to me saying he was going to kill me and I’m shocked the flower place never called the police and just sent, when I asked about it they said it just prints. I went out with some friends and he shows up and literally pulls next to me and shows me his guns then drives off. I call the police and since I didn’t know where he was staying or his tag number that I would have to waste my resources and go to his home state to file an order of protection. The guy would show up at my work, I’d call the police and they just kept telling me to compile evidence because they could do nothing, I had to handle torture because the police would not help. In the end I was finally able to get an order of protection because someone else reported him and he got my number somehow in prison causing threats again and the court said if I decided to proceed with the violation of protection that it could disrupt their federal case (he was traveling several states with guns and fake names). So I was pushed in the corner again by the police and courts and put fear in me that he could get released. They recorded his phone calls from prison and got him on much more charges, he was never jailed due to my charges and with his first arrest the officers gave him his gun back when he was released from jail prior and the courts said it was a mistake on their part. I was even escorted and parked at other building so that I didn’t get hurt possibly on my way in. I never testified with his other charges on with the order of protection. During all this the guy told me over and over I wasn’t the only one. When he was finally caught on something else the police surrounded the hotel he was living in with a prostitute doing drugs, the cops accidentally busted the door of the neighboring room by mistake but got the guy. He’s still in prison. It took police 4 years to finally help me, and at that point I couldn’t take the flower company to court over the note saying I was going to die because there was a 3 yr statute of limitations. In the end it was a security guard who helped me and got the police really involved, he even helped set up meetings, to this day we are friends, I could have died. I’m truly shocked i was never raped. Apparently he saw me at a gas station with a tshirt of where I worked and he said he was in the stall across from me and knew I was going to be the next one. This was 15+ years ago.

Harley Davidson & The Marlboro Man – Convenience Store Robbery

My wife and I were travelling cross-country, the first long trip without our kids, now grown, that we’d had since before they were born. We planned to camp in national parks along the way.

So there we were, in the Grand Canyon National Park. Beautiful day in June. We’d cooked dinner over the campfire. At the amphitheater welistened to a ranger tell Native American stories under the stars, then bought some beer from the park store. We returned to our campsite. The stars, the smell of the campfire and the pine trees, this really was the most wonderful place in the world.

My wife was urging me to go inside the tent. We started kissing and undressing and I remembered I’d bought beer. I had left it in the car. “Well go get it,” she said, “I’ll wait.” By this time I was completely naked so I reached for my jeans. She said, “Just go, it’s dark, no one will see you.” So I grabbed my keys, slipped on my shoes, poked my head out of the tent, and seeing no one, ran for the car. I opened up the trunk, grabbed the beer and a bottle opener, and turned around, just in time to get caught in the headlights of a car coming around the bend. I was frozen like a deer in the, well, the headlights.

The guy who was driving the car gave me a friendly wave and from the car I heard kids giggling. But that was nothing compared to the hysterical laughter of my wife who had watched the whole thing from the tent. She has teased me about my streaking act at the Grand Canyon ever since.

Oh man do I have a story for you. I didn’t see it, but I heard it from multiple people, including the man himself.

Once upon a time, I was a recruiter in the barcode and data collection industry. Honeywell was a company we recruited out of all of the time. Out of nowhere we heard that Honeywell was losing employees like crazy. I’m talking sailors jumping off a sinking ship. They weren’t being laid off, they were leaving the company in droves.

Apparently, there was a man, let’s call him Mr. Wilson, who was a salesman for Honeywell. Mr. Wilson had a customer come up to him and say, “hey, I have a couple of warehouses. I need barcode scanners and printers for inventory. Give me all you got.” It was a little known company at the time called Amazon. Mr. Wilson delivered the goods, and the next year Amazon began to grow. More warehouses, more inventory, don’t worry, we got a guy at Honeywell who is our sales rep and he treats us wonderfully! We’ll give him a call and he can help get the warehouses setup.

Fast forward a few years, Mr. Wilson is doing SO well selling to this customer, Honeywell rewards him by making him the sole man over the Amazon account at Honeywell. The orders for Honeywell products are so large at this point that it’s over a billion dollars a year. Mr. Wilson can’t do that himself so he’s given a staff of 200 plus employees just to satisfy Amazon’s needs for Honeywell scanners.

Fast forward to 2022. Honeywell has a new president. This president thinks he knows everything, and likes to feel important. So he starts butting into Mr. Wilson’s dealings with Amazon; negotiating things, talking to the reps at Amazon, over promising and under delivering to Amazon with unrealistic deadlines for Honeywell products to be delivered, etc. Mr. Wilson boldly told the president of the company, and the VP and new CEO more than once, that he was rewarded this account, and he knows what he’s doing, and that them over promising and under delivering was going to kill their relationship with Amazon. And he alone has the rapport with Amazon, and the president is ruining the credibility of Honeywell by lying to their client about how much they can sell and deliver to Amazon. You can imagine how well that went. They told him to go piss up a rope. He’s an employee, they are the big shots, and they can do whatever the hell they want and if he don’t like it he can go work somewhere else.

Fast forward a little further. The president over promised and under delivered again. They couldn’t get the thousands of scanners in the deadline the president promised, which he had no business doing anyway as Mr. Wilson had his boots on the ground and had it covered. Honeywell screwed Amazon. So Amazon switched to another company for their inventory needs and dropped Honeywell like a brick. Did the president take responsibility? Nope.

Fast forward a couple weeks later. Honeywell is having a big corporate party to award their top performers. Wine and food, giving out Rolex watches and other expensive gifts for exceeding sales goals, the works. The President of Honeywell gets up and gives a speech recognizing Mr. Wilson’s accomplishments over 15 years of service at Honeywell. He brags on him for his hard work and dedication, and gives him his award for millions of dollars in Honeywell equipment sold that year. The place applauds. Mr. Wilson is a well known overachiever in the company and is loved by many there. He accepts his award at the podium.

Then, in front of EVERYONE, the President says, “oh, and one more thing Mr. Wilson. For losing the Amazon account, you’re fired.” In. Front. Of. Everyone. The place is STUNNED. Mr. Wilson is then escorted from the premises by security in front of God and everyone attending. His staff was liquidated as well. All 200 some employees in one swoop. All at a celebration for salespeople who did their job above and beyond.

This humiliating, cold hearted, vengeful, extremely heavy handed authority and show of massive ego set off a big chain reaction. People that were there realized then that the company was in trouble with their leadership and that the time had come to look for another job. And I mean now. Folks who were there began the job search in private the next day. The news of what happened spread like a prairie fire, and soon others began putting their resumes on LinkedIn. It became industry known and Honeywell took a serious hit to their reputation. We helped lots of employees find work elsewhere after that little fiasco.

I eventually heard this story so much from employees, one suggested that I get ahold of Mr. Wilson myself whom this fella was a friend of. He was out of work, he’d be the one needing a job more than anyone. So he gave me Mr. Wilson’s number and I gave him a call. Lo and behold it was 100% true. He saved most of his money from his career and was sitting on several million dollars through selling to Amazon so he wasn’t hurting financially. He was effectively retired at age 52. But he was so disheartened and bitter about how he was treated he was over the thought of ever working again as a salesman. However he did send me his resume and told me if I ever came across an exciting project that needed a leader to give him a call.

I never was able to find that exciting project for Mr. Wilson but I kept his resume on my windowsill by my desk until I left that job, mainly as a reminder that no matter how good of an employee you are or how much money you make, a bad boss can ruin everything. And that’s exactly why I left my short lived job as a recruiter and became self-employed again. But that’s another story for another time.

WTF?

“Stick out your chest, men like little titties”

“Men like when you don’t shave your armpits or have a moustache. It reminds them of a labia”

“That little girl had no right running around in her panties trying to turn on your uncle, her mom is partly to blame”

“You need to ask god why you still want to sit on my lap when you’re getting so big. It’s nasty. Do you know what a lesbian is? God doesn’t like lesbians”

“In this world everyone is a snake in the grass, you can’t trust women you have to sleep your way to the top”

“You never talk about things to anyone. Anything that anyone asks you is because they want information on how to destroy you”

“No. You can’t be that when you grow up, it’s too much competition. Just go to a trade school maybe you can marry your boss”

“Don’t press the answering machine button, you’re going to break the motor”!

“I’m not a racist. I just believe god made some races inferior, so we shouldn’t mix, or have them in our homes”

“They started this socialism takeover with Sesame Street to teach our kids to love the blacks”

“If you don’t marry this boy and have this baby, god is going to punish you, and me, and this entire family”

“The aliens know I have a photo of the cloud covered ships. They were flashing lights to lure me into the mountains. I lost time at the library. I may have an implant. I can’t come over, I can’t risk them finding you, or using the kids to get to me. They KNOW Becky. They Know”

When I lost my job in Las Vegas.

About six years ago, I had lost my job and was looking for a job. I applied for every job I was qualified to get, and couldn’t get anything.

I was running out of money and had to do something, so I decided I had to leave the state if I was going to have any hope of making it financially. So I reluctantly started working with a recruiter and applying to jobs in the Western US.

Not too long after that, the recruiter called me and told me there was a company in Houston that wanted to talk to me. They had an opening in Austin. Well, I thought, maybe that’s not so bad. Texas, like Nevada, didn’t have an income tax so I thought I could probably swing a mortgage and an apartment.

I interviewed with the company, and they liked me. A day or so later, the recruiter called me and said they wanted to hire me…but for a position in Oakland, CA.

Oh, no. I did NOT want to go there. The cost of living out there just scared me. I told the recruiter that I didn’t think I could swing the cost of living there, and what about that job in Austin? I wanted to go there. He told me that this was where they wanted me to go. Austin was off the table. Well, being broke, I was in no position to say no, so I said yes, I’ll take it. I moved to Houston for four months to train, and then they sent me out to Oakland.

It turned out to be a blessing to move out here for two reasons:

  • I was able to over the next few years to establish myself in a new career direction: renewable energy projects. California is ground zero for such projects, and it turns out my skill set and experience is a desirable thing to have. I never would have been able to make this change had I stayed in Las Vegas.
  • I had started serious voice lessons in Las Vegas about a year before I moved. By the time I moved here, I had been taking lessons just long enough to know I had some ability. I wanted to continue studying voice, and found a teacher out here who not only picked up where I left off but also helped me get started in the theater community out here. I have now done several musicals and plays here, and am going to sing in an opera next year-things I have wanted to do for years but could not because Las Vegas didn’t have any real opportunities.

The move was a blessing in disguise-something I thought would be an absolute disaster turned out to be a growth period for me personally and professionally.

A curve ball thrown at him…

Bourbon Pecan Roast Chicken

Bourbon Pecan Roast Chicken
Bourbon Pecan Roast Chicken

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) whole chicken
  • 1/2 lemon
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
  • 3 tablespoons fresh tarragon, chopped, or 1 tablespoon dried tarragon
  • 1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped, or 1 tablespoon dried rosemary
  • 4 whole garlic cloves, peeled
  • 3 small onions, peeled
  • 1/4 teaspoon paprika
  • 1/4 cup broken pecans
  • 1/2 cup bourbon, divided

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Wash the inside cavity and outside of the chicken and pat dry. Rub the cavity with the cut side of half a lemon and sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Fill cavity with the tarragon, rosemary, garlic cloves, onions and paprika. Truss and tie chicken. Pull up skin from breast, press pecan bits into meat; pull skin back into place. Pour 1/4 cup of the bourbon over chicken and place it on its side in the oven.
  3. Roast for 20 minutes, turn to other side, add remaining bourbon, baste and roast for another 20 minutes.
  4. Turn again, baste and roast for a final 20 minutes. Chicken is done when thigh is pierced and juices run clear.

Well not me, but on one afternoon at work, my PC started printing a continuous series of lower case f all over the screen. I switched off and on but the ‘f’s came back as before. So I called IT.

The fellow turned up, stroked his chin for a while whist observing the stream of ‘f’s rolling up the screen and opened his case of tools and removed a pair of tweezers.

Carefully deploying this tool he delicately removed a piece of cheese which had been holding down the letter ‘f’ on the keyboard. “Lunch at work?” he asked. Indeed. And it had included a cheese sandwich!

The following morning when I came in and switched it on, a large flashing ‘WARNING!’ screen appeared, followed a few second later by a notice reading “To avoid continuous ‘f’s, do not eat cheese sandwiches at this computer!” It vanished when I touched a key, but reappeared every time I switched the machine on until it got upgraded. An embarrassing reminder of what a silly bugger I’d been.

Pennies for pay

I had been working for a large company for almost 20 years. I worked very long hours, often late into the night and at weekends, under stressful conditions and had a lot of responsibility but I was happy in my job and took great pride and derived satisfaction from it.

There was a change of management, and after about a year, I mentioned that I hadn’t been given a raise for over 4 years and asked for one – I was given a lecture about commitment and told that I would have to work harder to ‘earn’ it, and was offered a tiny raise which didn’t even meet 1 years cost of living increases, let alone 4 years. The new financial controller was condescending and quite dismissive so I knew instantly that I was finished with them. I didn’t resign there & then (even though I was very tempted to). I thanked them for my new ‘raise’ and immediately set about finding a new role – it took almost 2 years to find a job I was confident about but when I then handed in my notice, they offered me a huge raise, a promotion, new working conditions and all sorts of inducements to stay. It was extremely tempting but I had made my mind up – I no longer wanted to work for them (and my gut-feeling about them was justified by several stories from former colleagues of how staff were treated subsequently)

So my advice is NOT to act impulsively and hand in your resignation immediately (and be forced to find a replacement job urgently) – take your time, find the right job that suits you, put everything in place and then calmly, but firmly, hand in your notice.

How did people know…

  1. You are now aware that your clothes are touching your skin and that you can feel them.
  2. People who swear more often are more honest than those who don’t.
  3. For luxury brands, the ruder the sales staff, the higher the sales.
  4. If you start whispering to someone, they will whisper back, even if they don’t have to.
  5. Your mind “rewrites” monotonous speech of boring people to make them sound more interesting.
  6. Your brain defaults to going to the beach as your initial vacation idea.
  7. You are more honest and open with people that you consider “temporary” friends.
  8. When entering a packed lecture hall, the left side will always be less crowded.
  9. 82% of people would feel more confident approaching an attractive person if they had their dog with them.
  10. We tend to hate people who have the same flaws and make the same mistakes as we do.
  11. If someone is trying to make you decide in a hurry, they are probably giving you a bad deal.
  12. A person is more likely to be honest when physically tired.
  13. Fear can feel good-if we’re not really in danger.
  14. People who keep their hands in their pockets while around large crowds are generally anti-social or shy.
  15. The best way to get the right answer on the internet is not to ask a question; it’s to post the wrong answer.

My late husband and I were on our way home from being on the lake with friends and were pulling a boat that belonged to one of our friends who didn’t have a truck or anything suitable to pull it with. We got to his house and pulled into the driveway shortly after the friend pulled in. My husband got out to talk, I rolled down the window and stayed in the truck. Across the street was a group of girls playing with a water hose and water balloons . The girls are obviously young possibly 11 years old at the most . Our friend tells my husband “ man that’s torture, I would love half a chance “. I was more than proud of my husband’s response . He told his friend that he was sick in the head and if he ever caught him with in a mile of one of our daughters that the torture he spoke of would become reality that he would face a hell that would give the devil chill bumps. Then told him to get his piece of shit boat unhooked from his truck he was ready to leave and don’t ever call him or come to our house . We got not even a mile up the road and turned around, I asked what he was doing , he told me that the family of those girls deserve to know what trash lives across from them . He said if someone can casually mention something like that then they are capable of doing such.i have never seen him react so strongly about something but at that time we had 2 daughters age 6 and 12 . The father of the girls was more than disgusted and thanked him for letting him know .

Very interesting WTF…

When I quit a job over 20 years ago, I was called in by my grand-boss (manager’s boss) and asked why I was leaving. I was the second person to leave that week, and my main issue was money – they immediately offered to match the raise I was getting with my new job, but declined. The secondary issue, of how my manager’s assistant did his level best to cheat me out of $5 (out of $40) in per-diem when working in a remote office, in a way that could not be seen as accidental. They wanted to know what was happening.

Last year, my employer sold his personally-owned company to a much larger firm. During the transition, the new management told me I was overpaid and unnecessary, denied a raise, and generally treated rudely. The old owner did nothing to support me. Two months after that I called up the president of the new firm and gave notice – explaining what had happened and how I was treated without respect or professionalism, and also that I was obliged by professional ethics to inform him that my former employer was aware of several installations that were in violation of the electrical code, but were not doing anything about it to shelter themselves from liability (both legal and financial) until the sale went through. The one installation I was aware of – I insisted that it be fixed, fighting the owner who kept telling me that the cost of fixing it would come out of MY salary and bonus. I corrected him in saying that this was a mistake that I merely discovered, but did not create, and despite him being upset that I opposed his desire to merely ignore this, the cost of fixing it would come out of THE COMPANY’S REVENUE, meaning that no single person would, or could be held responsible for the error. In fact, some of the people who may have been responsible for it were now retired from that firm.

It did not go well for any of the people involved, as I knew the President of that larger firm from my previous dealings, and that he was very risk-averse. Legal liability for engineering errors is a bad thing.

Do men even want relationships anymore? There’s nothing in it for them. Too much to lose.

This is very good.

Playing around with Text to image

Today is my Doc Savage theme.

Prompt is…

doc savage cover art Bantam Doc paperbacks with the wonderful cover art by James Bama and Bob Larkin adventure driving a car through the streets of new york city

Images…

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doc 10

doc 9
doc 9

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In the year 2000, I was working on advanced degrees in theology. A priest I had known from childhood, now serving in Henderson, Nevada right outside of Las Vegas, invited me to teach a week-long adult education class to his parish. This was a no-brainer. An easy class to teach, a small paycheck, but a FREE plane trip to spend few days just a few miles from the strip. I was happy to say yes. I couldn’t wait to try the buffets and see David Copperfield. I planned to spend a few quarters in the slots as well.

The priest set me up in a small little guest house next to the rectory where he lived. I had just two rooms and a bathroom. I was told to meet him in the morning for breakfast then he would bring me to the classroom.

For some reason I could not understand, I had the most upsetting and unsettling feeling when I was a lone in this little guest house. I had the impression someone or something was watching me, I kept jumping at the slightest noise and swearing I saw things or people pass the window. This was very much unlike me. We often say “I didn’t sleep a wink” but often this is a slight exaggeration. In this case however, I was literally awake all night with a terrible feeling surrounding me. I felt a presence in the room I simply cannot explain. I never was able to close my eyes for even a full minute. Never one for superstition or exaggeration, I assumed it was nothing and rejected the notion that I felt some sort of spirit or evil presence in the room. I just went the next day and, although exhausted, taught the first session of the class. Although I wound up in a different arrangement the second night, I could not forget that odd, terrible and lingering feeling in the original guest house. I had a nightmare in the new room. Even when I just passed the original guest house while walking it felt terrible, in a way I did not understand.

One year later, to my shock, the priest who invited me was arrested. He was a violent, disgusting pedophile who was abusing kids in that little guest house for years. I had no clue, and yet, somehow, I felt the presence of pure evil in that room. I will never ignore or dismiss such a feeling again.

Mike Pompeo orders the murder of Jillian Assange

I’ve lived alone for about the past ten years. I even let my ex stay with me for a stretch after we split up, but with her in the guest room. We’ve always remained good friends. We were just not a great couple with both wanting different things in life.

A good friend who also lives alone told me that she hates the part where someone doesn’t get to witness her experiences and that about sums up the downside. I live about nine miles away from the closest small town on about 3.5 acres. I’m completely secluded and during the summer you can’t see the house from the road. Yes, there are security measures, but I feel very safe here and safer than I’d feel in a city.

Living alone isn’t for everyone and so much of it depends on what you want out of life. I love my work and I have a personal assistant who’s here often, so I’m not completely alone. I also have visitors from time to time.

The plus side of living alone is that you don’t have the normal routine of others. I can go swimming in the middle of the night or work or play music or watch a movie. I can do just about anything I want and feel like I had a productive day.

I’d probably feel lonely if I didn’t have a busy life, but there are so many great things to do in a day and I love my work. I never ever want to retire and I’m good at it too.

I still go to restaurants, travel, and do other things, but I do have a dog and he’s with me at all times, except when I have to make business trips. I have a sitter here at the house when that happens.

There isn’t a big downside to living alone, other than the risk of some major illness or injury where you can’t get help, but I take precautions for that. Neighbors see anyone who comes and goes. The house is a local curiosity so that’s kind of fun too.

Yes, it would be great to share these experiences, but I do it in my writings. I turn out a massive amount of work and living alone helps that. I never thought this was where my life would take me, but it did. Circumstances took me here, but I have great friends, and a full life and I’m getting a lot out of the experience of living.

Now the USA no longer will answer 911

When we moved into our first home we bought a second hand washer and drier. Not long after, the drier quit.

In my family, if something broke, you took it apart. If you fixed it, great. If not you learned a few things and had lots of parts to tinker with.

My wife wanted a tool kit as a little girl and never got one because Little. Girls. Don’t. Play. With. Tools.

So I said I’d take a look and see what was wrong. She wanted me to take it back for a refund. A second hand drier.

Have you ever fixed one before? What’s to go wrong? There’s a drum, a motor and a heater element. She could just not comprehend that you could look at something, see how it worked, and see how to fix it.

Finally I just went Executive Action. Took the back off and there was a broken wire. We got years more use out of it.

A few months later, she pulled in with a recliner in the trunk. The owner was throwing it out and warned her it was broken. “Oh, that’s okay. My husband can fix anything.”

Protip: if you are good with your hands, the first time your SO asks you to hang a picture, nail your hand to the wall. It will hurt like blazes but you have no idea how much trouble it will save.

I kid. She died of a heart attack in January after 48 years. I’d build or fix anything her heart desired to have her back a bit longer.

Some interesting AI generations

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Default GPTmasterpiece best quality diverse group of adventure 2

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Default GPTmasterpiece best quality diverse group of adventure 6(1)

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Default GPTmasterpiece best quality diverse group of adventure 1

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Default GPTmasterpiece best quality diverse group of adventure 3

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Default GPTmasterpiece best quality diverse group of adventure 6

How a husband thinks

Bluto rules in Pago Pago

I hijacked my roommate’s internet connection.

Back when I was in college there wasn’t really any broadband. We used 56.6k dial up connections to access the internet. Now my roommate Cruchkov would monopolize that damned connection for hours on end. We only had the one phone for four of us and we would pick it up any time of the day or night and hear bleeep blop beeboo beeboo. All the time. It got to the point where we couldn’t even order a pizza. “Hey Dave you want pepperoni?” “Sure Corey” “Okay I’ll ca… bleeep blop beeboo beeboo.” “DAMNIT CHRUCHKOV”. We would bang on his door but he would either not hear us or pretend not to hear us.

So I hatched a plan.

I waited until he left for work one day. Then, armed with some s%^t I bought at Radio Shack back when they sold stuff that wasn’t cell phones, I walked into his room. I unscrewed his phone jack and connected a 5v relay to the line. COM/NO went to the phone, the coil went to the other two (unused) wires. Then I buried the whole thing back in the wall and made it look good as new. I hid a 9v battery inside the kitchen phone and connected it to the ringer switch and my secret wires.

Chruchkov comes home that evening, slams the door. Thirty seconds later it’s bleeep blop beeboo beeboo. “Hey Dave, you want pizza?” “But Chruchkov is on the…” “I got this, man.” I flip my switch, his phone turns off. But only his phone. The sound of him kicking and cursing at his computer remains one of the most passive aggressively satisfying moments of my life.

Yes, I did. I went to work for a company in accounts receivable. In other words followed up with customers who bought the service and products of the business And yes I was better than very good at it. Their books were a remarkable mess. The printout of “delinquent” accounts amounted to several hundred pages. I dived in. After a few months the owners got the opportunity to take over a franchise doing what they did in a different group of counties. They carpe’d the diem. As the franchiser had to take the business back their accounts were in horrible shape. After about two years I got everything lined out, quit sending repairmen to nonpaying customers, got the giving of “product” that should be sold to customers stopped. About three months before I finally had everything straightened out the owner hired someone to ostensibly “assist” me. The very week I finally got the system set up to where anyone should be able to keep it going easily they let me go. The person hired to assist me was being paid 2/3 of what I was or I was making 50% more than her. There were also four different occasions with different companies where upper management refused to promote me because they feared the results of my leaving the department I was in.

Back during the pandemic, I took my cat, Caesar, to the vet. He was a 15 year old, orange, short haired cat. Because of COVID, the vet’s office had implemented a policy of people not being allowed to go back to the exam rooms with their pet. I wasn’t really comfortable with that but my little guy had a sore front paw so I had to get him seen by the vet. A staff member came out to my car, got Caesar (in his carrier) and took him inside to be examined by the vet while I waited in my car. After a few minutes, the vet called my cell phone and we discussed the problem with Caesar’s front paw. An x-ray was done and it was determined that the problem was with one of his claws. Apparently it was a problem that is fairly common in older cats and easily treatable. Over the phone, the vet and I agreed upon the treatment for the problem. A short time later, the staff member brought Caesar back out to my car and presented me with the bill. As I quickly scanned the bill before giving the staff member my credit card, I saw a $40 charge for a ‘ therapeutic shave’ on the bill. I didn’t understand so I asked about the charge. Found out that while they had Caesar in the exam room, someone shaved his back end for no apparent reason. I said to the staff member “ So you needlessly shaved my cat’s ass and want to charge me $40 for it? I think that you guys should owe him $40 for doing that to him! “

The charge was removed from my bill. Caesar got extra treats and a new toy that day too.

Text to picture

Playing around, this time with a Wes Anderson theme; Life Aqua.

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Do you know this guy?

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main qimg cc42c50211fa294347bd204dc79c6f1f pjlq

He is Daniel Radcliffe.

(Photo source: Daniel Radcliffe raps Eminem’s ‘The Real Slim Shady’)

At the age of 11, he was cast as Harry Potter in the first Harry Potter film, and starred in the series for 10 years. At the age of 14, an article in British newspaper ‘The Sun’ listed him as Britain’s third richest teenager behind only Prince Harry Windsor and Charlotte Church, the very popular singer-songwriter TRUST Trivia: Daniel Radcliffe.

He became the youngest non-royal to have his portrait displayed in London’s prestigious National Portrait Gallery at the same age. In 2007, the British press estimated 18-year-old Radcliffe’s total net worth at $35 million, and $80 million at the age of 26. ‘Harry Potter’ Daniel Radcliffe turns 26: 10 unknown facts about the actor

Would you want your kid to become someone popular and successful like him?

Maybe. Yes.

Now read this (paying special attention to bold words):

Daniel Radcliffe: I turned to alcohol to cope with fear of failure and fame. “It is not a real pressure, but it is a pressure of living with the thought, ‘Oh, what if all these people are saying I am not going to have a career? What if they are all going to be right and will be laughing and I will be consigned to a bunch of “Where are they now?” lists?'” Radcliffe added: “I was living in constant fear of who I’d meet, what I might have said to them, what I might have done with them, so I’d stay in my apartment for days and drink alone. I was a recluse at 20. It was pathetic – it wasn’t me. I’m a fun, polite person, and it turned me into a rude bore.”

Source: Daniel Radcliffe: I turned to alcohol to cope with fear of failure and fame

“The bottom line is people don’t like change, especially when it’s connected to endings,” she concludes. “For some people, they have a harder time maintaining a positive self-image when it’s linked to a job that gives them an identity. And so in order to deal with the intensity of that emotional pain, some people self-medicate in order to feel less depressed, less anxious, less hopeless or less unimportant” -Dr. Rubi Ludwig, Psychotherapist.

Source: Daniel Radcliffe Turned to Alcohol to Cope With The Ending of Harry Potter

“It Was Not Making Me as Happy as I Wanted It To”

Source: Daniel Radcliffe Opens Up About Past Alcohol Abuse

Now would you want your kid to abuse himself with alcohol/drugs while he has so much in the world that one could only dream of?

No. Definitely not.

This is just an example of people who are extremely successful, but aren’t happy. They may be child prodigies, but they are so full of fear of failure that after all they have achieved, they are no close to finding happiness. And their lives and money are wasted in running after it.

Raise your kid such that he doesn’t become this example.

1. Take the FEAR OF FAILURE away from him.

The fear, that you are instilling in him unknowingly. By saying this:

  • Whatever you do, just do your best. Be it studies or games.
  • It is important to win the Olympiad. It is the stepping stone for your career.
  • Study with the aim of securing first rank. So we can be proud parents.

Saying this instills the fear of failure. Kid aims for perfection, resulting in a stressed outlook.

This is Fear of Failure.

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main qimg d3d72168c03a206123c735ec7f481223 pjlq

Teach your children so fear of failure never creeps in their mind. By telling them this:

  • Do not focus on excelling at everything. It keeps you in a constant state of stress. Do somethings for pure enjoyment. And in fact, do everything for the fun of it.
  • What do you think of the Olympiad? I think it is important, but not the most important thing.
  • What are you studying? Let’s explore how can we apply it practically.

2. Teach him to THINK IN A HEALTHY WAY.

Not anxiously, as you might be doing now.

  • Mister, the exams are approaching. You better start worrying!
  • Sharmaji’s son is a top-ranker. He got a great on-campus placement. What will happen of you? Where will you go with these marks?
  • Amend your behavior. You are a grown-up now.

Saying this leads to anxious thinking. Kid is overwhelmed, loaded with inferiority complex and self-consciousness.

This is Anxious thinking.

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main qimg 04ae00e83c729ab8fc6585d263ac0bb2 pjlq

And there is no other way to teach them this, except to teach yourself this.

  • Do not encourage him to think anxiously. He’ll learn it in no time, and soon will have anxiety attacks, inhibiting performance.
  • Do not compare him to others thinking it’ll motivate him. Motivate him by positive means, comparative thinking will take a lifetime toll on him.
  • Do not expect him to behave like a grown-up. A 3-yr old will behave like one, and a teenager like one. Accept them as per their age.

3. Teach him to have a POSITIVE SELF-IMAGE.

Again, do not teach him this.

  • You are considered doing well only when you get good grades.
  • Why can’t you be more like your sister? She’s such a good kid and gets a first in everything.
  • Read faster
  • Write faster.
  • Run faster.
  • Do it faster.

This teaching promotes negative self-image. Synonymous with low self- worth and self-esteem.

This is Negative self-image.

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main qimg 4acb7bcc7ce5ca10f32df74527311996 pjlq

So, teach yourself this.

  • Do not pressurize children with too much focus on grades or rewards.
  • Remember that he can’t be like his sister. Each person is different. Are you doing this so you have to deal with only one personality?
  • Do not pressurize the kid to be faster in everything he does. Each kid learns at his own pace.

Teaching yourself these things will raise a kid who is free from this negative thought:

What will happen if… I fail…

My housemate is 26 years old. She’s intelligent and pretty and (generally) fun to be around.

But… she hates her job.

It’s obvious.

Sometimes she’ll just sit at the kitchen table in her pajamas, coffee in hand, looking at the clock.

And she’ll casually say, “I have to leave for work in two minutes.”

Does she actually leave for work two minutes later?

I’ll let you guess the answer to that.

But the thing that blows me away is this:

When I asked her a little while ago if she’s considered changing jobs and doing something that doesn’t make her look unhappy every morning, there was genuine surprise in her voice.

As in, “Of course I’m going to work another 36+ years at a job I despise! That’s totally normal.”

A lot of people think that.

Like my housemate, they “celebrate” the weekend and dread Mondays.

Like my housemate, they might even negotiate more hours at work so they can qualify for more vacation time.

And that’s a huge trap: Thinking you’re doomed to working a job you hate.

Thinking you have to work a 9-to-5.

Thinking you can’t earn money if you’re not actively working.

That’s all nonsense.

If you’re not happy with your work, not only can you change, but you absolutely should.

I’ve been freelancing for years and wouldn’t even consider getting a job where some boss gets to tell me things like:

  • When to work
  • Where to work
  • How many vacation days I can take
  • How much I can get paid

For example, this month, I’m a bit ahead of schedule on the projects I’m working on so I can take time off if I want to.

Do I have to ask for permission?

Nope.

Do I even have to let anyone know?

Nope.

I’m not saying this to brag, even though it might sound like it.

I’m saying this because if you feel stuck in a job you can’t stand, just know that there’s a way out for you.

Please, don’t stay at a job you despise long-term.

It’s not good for you or for anyone else.

You have the doctor who pumped four gallons of hydrogen gas into his anus, to diagnose gastrointestinal problems

[1], and then you have surgical resident, Werner Forssmann, who was eager to push a tube through a vein in his elbow, until it reached his heart. This would become a method of transporting medication to and fro the incision site.

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main qimg 7c8fee7cb0389b8a571c5bb730943c92 lq


Werner Forssman was desperate to self-experiment, although faced challenges along the way. One person he had to pass was the surgical nurse, who had access to the theatre and medical equipment.

After much convincing, the nurse gave in to his ludicrous idea. In fact, she volunteered to have the procedure performed on herself! I guess the idea isn’t as crazy as the doctor who transported parasites within himself, only to produce parasite semen for research!

[2]Anyway, despite dismissal from the doctors who believed the surgery would be a death wish, Werner continued on with his plan.

The nurse lay on the surgical table, whilst Werner tightly strapped her legs and arms in. Only, when she wasn’t looking, the doctor applied anesthetic to his own arm, cut his arm open, and pushed the 12-inch catheter (thin tube) into his vein!

Now, all he needed was an X-Ray room. Successfully, Werner x-rayed himself and noticed that the tube had reached his shoulder. He pushed the tube in further until it was 24-inches inside his vein.

Bingo! Werner reached his ventricular cavity.


For his risky actions, Werner was fired. As a result, he took up positions as a military surgeon and Major in World War II. He wasn’t a hero though. Werner was a Nazi, actively joining the party in 1932. He was eventually imprisoned, although did receive a Nobel Prize twenty years later for his medical efforts.

Largest NATO Base in Europe Being **RUSHED** in Romania

Largest NATO Base in Europe Being **RUSHED** in Romania

The largest NATO base in Europe is being built in Romania.  Construction commenced at the outset of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, and is being RUSHED.

The Mihail Kogalniceanu airbase in Romania will turn into a military camp where 10 thousand NATO soldiers can live, this will require an investment of €2.5 billion, reports local publication Pro TV.

The base is located in a mountainous area and should become a center for command and control of troops in South-Eastern Europe.

The zoomable map below shows the location:

Map
Map

We were in a beautiful relationship for about 3 years. And then suddenly she over texts, broke up with me. No explanation given. Like every other guy, I cried, pleaded for just one reason, and all she said was it’s over, I don’t want to be with you. She has changed her college a month before the break up. And like I suspected she fell out of love with me because there is new guy who approached her. Quite similar to everyone’s love story. Lol

Anyway, I was literally shattered, and broken. I couldn’t believe the girl I thought to be my future left me in such a dire condition.

It’s been three years since she is gone. Yesterday, I got a phone call from her at 2am. Basic points from the calls were:

  1. She was unhappy, crying profusely over the phone. She said she don’t have anyone to trust and talk to, except me. And yes, I talked to her because pretty much I loved her too much.
  2. She said the guy cheated her, and when asked him for a breakup, he said he will going to kill her, he abused and hit her off. And she thought everybody will leave silently like me.
  3. I asked her to do a police complain, she said, she doesn’t want her parents to know, she is stucked.
  4. After few minutes on call, she was laughing, talking to me as if we were never separated, I was wondering how easy the things are for girls.
  5. Then she told me even before her father and brother, I am the person she trust and respect the most. I was flattered but I knew, it’s no more important.
  6. I was again at ground zero, I felt happy talking to her, but the wounds were yet fresh.
  7. I tried not to make her feel bad and bid her bye.

Today I Changed my phone number, and email id!

I do love her a lot, still? Yes. But I cannot give her the power to destroy me again.

While this dis not happen to me, it happenesn to a neighbor friend who repaired computers…

One of our other neighbors approached him to take a look at problem they (a couple) were having with their computer. The problem is irrelevant here.

So my friend went about his diagnostics to figure out how to address the issue. As any good computer tech does, once the machine was up an running again, he went about doing some basic maintenance such as cleaning up temp files and so on.

In doing so he stumble upon a huge set of pictures and videos… yes, that. Not illegal ones, but actual professional ones used in well known sites.

As it turned out, we learned that our low key neighbor was a well known porn star making videos at home, which now explained all the odd traffic we always noticed at their house. This porn was bringing them probably close $500k/yr or more. They did end up moving later on to a higher end neighborhood not to far. Shortly after moving but still owned the property, a well known on-line news magazine (you’ve all read something from them) came by looking for them, knocking on doors to see if any of us knew more about them, and if we knew where they moved to.

BTW – part of the story that the on-line magazine (you’ve all read something from them) was chasing was that her day job was unwrapping kids toys from well known entertainment company. So she was also a top rated poster/producer in that segment in YouTube for some time. We learned a lot that day… those pretty hands of hers served multiple purposes.🙂

So, the people who bought their house now have a bit of a topic and history to share about their house, because of course, we neighbors shared the history about it 😉.

It’s funny thinking back to the many casual neighbor conversations we had with that couple, and little did we know what was behind it all. She is very cute, it all made sense.

Today she is still out there, bigger than before. If anyone reading this watches porn, or watched children’s toy unwrapping, you’ve probably seen her…

The Rise of Chinese Pick Me Girls

Pizza!

In 2001, Pizza Hut delivered a pizza to the International Space Station. The pizza was a 6″ pizza and was delivered to the ISS aboard a Russian Progress vehicle. They paid $1 million to transport the same.

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main qimg fb88f94afdf6357296958d11273b4874 lq

Pizza Hut once made delivery to International Space Station

Looks like pizza lovers know no boundaries 😀

LOL

I had a traumatic brain injury, was on life support, and was in a coma for 7 days.

During this time I found myself looking at the doctors working on me, then I walked up a small ramp and met my brother who passed away unexpectedly.

My brother looked like he did when he was in High School, I wanted to stay with him but he said that I couldn’t come in, and it wasn’t my time, that I needed to spend more years with my wife and children.

I was heartbroken and when I came out of my coma, I remembered everything so vividly.

The doctors said they lost me a couple of times but were able to revive me, and they were so surprised because I shouldn’t have survived my accident.

This is the truth, I never would have believed my story if I were somebody else, but this happened, and for the fact that the doctors said they couldn’t control the bleeding and that I was supposed to die, I wouldn’t have believed myself.

Now having my motor skills back, but still working on my speech, I’m able to go back to work after only 3 months, this is a true miracle. And never take life for granted, there are no promises for a tomorrow.

This chick in a small town in the Philippines talk about her town. A nice escape.

Nope. You see no matter what China or Chinese do we’ll be criticised for it. A few years back I posted some screen caps of Western media:

  • China pollutes – China bad!
  • China cuts pollution – China bad!

So what’s been happening in Hong Kong and Legco?

This happened:

The December 2021 LegCo elections. Go look at it. Pan Dems and other yellow groups stood for election. They didn’t get very many votes.

If you’ve been keeping an eye on what’s been happening in LegCo for the past 26 years it’s pretty obvious. The Pan Dems have never had a majority there, what they have done however is simply fillibuster and delay and oppose EVERYTHING that has been tabled at LegCo since forever. This is Hong Kong’s version of Hansard. An official record of everything said at LegCo at debates and motions/votes.

https://app.legco.gov.hk/HansardDB/english/Search.aspx

The we care about the people Yellows blocked and delayed EVERYTHING.

Some biggies:

They opposed the minimum wage.

They opposed maternity leave.

They opposed those not because they though they were a bad idea but purely on ideological grounds.

Since 2022 when the new bunch of LegCo people took their seats? Without the permanent blockage of the yellows who as above block things on ideological grounds things actually get through LegCo rather than spending months and years being blocked by them.

This is just another example.

Want another?

Foreign doctors working in Hong Kong.

That had been opposed by the yellows since 1997. Yet changes were made in 6 months after December 2021.

I’m rooting for you!

  • I have a Premium Netflix account that I don’t pay for so you guys can use my laptop to watch movies and series.
  • In my hostel room in college you will find a photo frame kept on the top left shelf above the study table which has a photo of Me with a Girl.If possible return it to her and tell her it’s called “Our Dastoor” or Destiny.
  • My phone’s pin is 1632 because that was the time(16:32) while i was setting the new pin .
  • In my phone there are two calculator apps. One pre-installed and the other downloaded from play store. When you will enter 1632 and press ‘’=“ in the downloaded one it will open a secret pdf which contains my Bucket List, delete that, it won’t be necessary anymore.
  • Can you ask the college authorities if they can still provide me the degree posthumously cause papa is very proud of my IIT achievement.
  • Tell my friends sorry that I promised i would certainly try beer with them the next time we go on a trip.
  • Donate/throw away my possessions except for the white letter with a red tape which is kept in my laptop bag. Kindly burn it away without opening it. It’s rude to read someone’s love letters.

Different services, but the story is helpful to understand what can happen in the real world battlefield

The 82nd Airborne jumped into Grenada at the international airport at night. Some soldiers ended up in extremely tall grass to the east of the runway and were separated from the main force but could hear the fire fight to the north and west of their positions but could not see due to the tall, thick grass

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main qimg edbe462c2758da0cc5c682a09af8b8b0 lq

One by one, they started to form up. At some point, they added a USAF fighter pilot Captain who was aligned as an Air Liaison Officer who specialized in controlling close air support, small unit infantry.

After the small group numbered squad strength, they stopped briefly while headed towards the sounds of the battle. The soldiers looked at the USAF Captain, the only officer present and one spoke up and asked “What do we do now sir?”. Despite being a fighter pilot by trade, he suddenly found himself in command of a parachute infantry squad.

So, yeah, in a situation where they are cutoff from their leadership and unit, Marines and any member of the Armed Forces should obey the lawful orders of senior NCOs and officers regardless of service.

Pay attention to understanding

It wasn’t a call, but a text…. And it wasn’t weird until I made it weird

It was around lunchtime on a weekday afternoon and I was on the train, I get a text.

“Hey, just a quick text to tell you I will be late home from work tonight, don’t wait up, I love you X”

I don’t recognise the number, I lived alone so it definitely wasn’t for me, but I replied anyway…

“You’re always working late, I’m getting fed up with it, you never spend time with me any more”

They replied back to me….

“I’m sorry, were just really busy at the moment, I promise I’ll make it up to you, don’t be angry, X”

I thought, I’m commited to this now, I have to reply…..

“No, I’ve had enough, I don’t love you any more”

They replied

“What?”

I’m still committed, so…

“Yes that’s right, I don’t love you any more, your such a disappointment and all these late nights you have been working I’ve been fucking your brother”.

Hours passed before I got a reply.

“Mum, is everything ok?”

There’s a bunch of ways that would be more effective in different situations.

But my personal favourite?

Just walk right up and be direct. Put on a smile, tell a joke, and don’t make it look like a big deal.

She should think you’ve had this exact scenario dozens of times before. And you should.

The problem with young guys is that they let the approach get into their heads. They make it into some difficult task for which they feel the need to consult experts on a QA site.

It’s not.

Smile like you’ve spoken to her 100 times before. Shake her hand to prove to break the touch barrier (and make yourself less intimidated). Be friendly.

It’s hard to reply to a charming smile with a frown.

Obviously, proper grooming and knowing when to make your move is a prerequisite to all this. Your charming smile won’t do much good if you smell like her brother’s musty socks on a hot afternoon.

Take a shower, get a haircut, and use some cologne. A few hours in the gym can’t hurt, either.

But once you have those basics down, the “approach” starts to matter a lot less. It’s just down to your confidence.

You can talk about the weather, the sea, heck, you can rizz her up with Plato’s last academic texts if she’s really that kinda gal.

“Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Gairson?”

“Yes.”

“I am with the [] State Bar Association. I am calling because X has finished law school and is applying to become an attorney. Do you know X?”

“Yes, I know X.”

“Do you believe that X would make a good attorney?”

“Is this call confidential?”

“Yes.”

“I have not seen or heard from X since [date #2]. I do not know what he is like these days.”

“Here it says that he was employed at your firm from [date #1] to [date #3]. Is that correct?”

“His last day was on [date #2].”

“So he did not work for you until [date #3]?”

“No, he did not.”

“Why not?”

“I fired him.”

“Why did you fire him?”

“He failed to show up at work.”

“Is that all?”

“Every time I paid him, he would miss the next four days of work.”

“Why?”

“I do not personally know. However, on [date #3], his mother called me.”

“Why did his mother call you?”

“To ask why I had emailed him on [date #2] that he was fired.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her he was fired because he failed to show up at work.”

“What did she say?”

“She informed me that I was an idiot for paying him directly.”

“What?”

“She stated that I should have sent the paychecks to her, directly, rather than paying him directly.”

“Why did she say that?”

“She claimed that he had a drug addiction and his income was restricted because of it. Thus, all income should go through her to be given to him over time.”

“Do you have anything else to add?”

“He had the most brilliant legal mind I have ever met. When it comes to the law, he is a genius. When it comes to his life choices and common sense, he is far less intelligent. I could not trust him to do his job, because of his life choices and I fired him. I have seen first hand what happens to lawyers who are drug abusers and I have seen them disbarred as a result. I cannot give him a good recommendation because of it and frankly am surprised that he listed me as a resource. He would have had far better luck had he told you his supervisor was [other attorney], because that attorney loved him despite the addictions. Then again, [other attorney] is currently in disciplinary proceedings for being a drug addict.”

“So you would not recommend him to join the bar?”

“I would recommend that you confirm that he is no longer a drug abuser.”


He called me six months later. He was not admitted to the bar. They had called him in for a special interview. He missed the first one, which was on a Monday . . . the Monday after he had been paid by the large firm that was holding a position open for him. They rescheduled, he went in, they asked about his drug and alcohol history and why he had not mentioned it on his bar application. He initially expressed shock that they had found out (wrong response by the way), and asked who had told them (they outed me, so much for confidentiality). The bar advised him to provide rehabilitation or medical records and references and gave him the opportunity to amend his record. He provided them records, which showed that he had repeatedly failed to complete treatment and was prone to relapses. He called me, hoping I could change my earlier assessment over a cup of coffee or give him a job to prove himself. I declined. Over a year later he completed rehab, thanked me, and now has a successful career served by his law degree in another industry but is not an attorney.

[Other attorney] was disbarred and put in prison for several years. Lawyer life lesson: drugs kill careers and harm clients.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/_PSra_bw-Ag?feature=share

There is a temple in Andhra Pradesh

Near Tuni in Vishakapatnam where eligible men and women swear before God that they are not hiding any terrible secret and they toss lots and the girl marries the boy who picks her number

No backsies

Why not visit that place?

No Caste (Upper Castes only though, Brahmin, Kamma, Kapu etc sadly), No color, No Looks

Just a roll of the dice

One of my ex staff married his daughter there because of her horoscope to a farmer young man in that temple in 2010/11

The couple were happy as of 2019

She was working for BSNL and he was a farmer with 400+ Acres (Family)

Both had horoscope issues

Go to Tuni and ask around

Many Guys on the highway will guide you to the temple for PELLI meaning marriage

I have a family member who was married in December of 2015. About a month or two after getting married, his wife started showing some very disturbing and troubling behavior. She had to control everything he did, when and what he ate. If he did anything to displease her, she would leave often with all of their bank cards and any access to money and she refused to tell him where she went. Sometimes she would be gone for at least two days without giving him access to money for food and other necessities for him and their pets.

Eventually, she started telling her friends and family that he was abusing her. She tried to convince as many people in our family as well. The way she behaved when he didn’t do exactly as she said raised massive red flags. Family members and friends also were seeing signs that she was physically abusing him too. The last straw was when she blew up at him for an unbelievably trivial matter and he left the house to see his parents and look into making arrangements. While he was there, she and her friends had called the police on him, saying they were afraid he was going to hurt them. He was made to get only what he could carry from HIS house and he wasn’t allowed to set foot on the property for the time being.

This happened in the space of five months from the time of his wedding. When they went to court for the divorce hearing, the judge made him responsible for the majority of her debts. He had been able to return to his house, but she and her friends had vandalized it. Between the separation and the hearing, she had filed police complaints, including false accusations, that the police looked into EVERY time. When he found that she had vandalized his house, the police told him there was nothing they could do.

She continuously stalked him. Nothing could be legally done because the people who he has to rely on to handle the matters can’t be bothered because he’s a man. This kind of thing happens more than you might think.

Reuben Sliders

What to do with leftover corned beef? Make Reuben Sliders, of course.

reuben sliders
reuben sliders

Prep: 20 min | Bake: 5 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 6 Rhodes Warm-N-Serv Soft Yeast Rolls, thawed
  • 1/2 cup Thousand Island dressing
  • 3/4 pound corned beef, thinly sliced
  • 6 slices Swiss cheese
  • 1 1/2 cups sauerkraut, drained
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted or 1 egg, beaten
  • 1 tablespoon poppy seeds

Instructions

  1. Slice rolls in half to make sliders. Spread inside of top and bottom with dressing.
  2. Layer a slice of cheese, corned beef and about 2 tablespoons sauerkraut on the bottom half of each roll.
  3. Place tops on sliders.
  4. Place sliders on baking sheet. Brush top with melted butter or beaten egg. Sprinkle with poppy seeds.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F about 5 minutes, just until cheese starts to melt.

Not me, my dad.

it was the early 1960s, and my dad was sent by his employer, Northern Electric – telephone people – from Canada to India to oversee the installation of a long-distance line from New Delhi (as it was) to another city, about 60 miles away. On a weekend, he decided to experience the joys of Indian train travel, and booked a seat. In his carriage, otherwise filled with Indians of course, one started up a conversation

Where are you from?

Canada.

Ah, I have a brother in Canada, perhaps you know him.

Well, it’s a big country. I live in Montreal.

Ah! My brother lives in Montreal! You must know him.

Well, Montreal’s a big city. I live in the NDG area.

Amazing! My brother lives in NDG!

So, as you have already guessed, we were neighbours. We lived in one unit of four four-plexes that shared a common backyard. The brother lived directly kitty-corner to us. He was actually a professional wrestler, back in the days when TV wrestling was more choreographed than any ballet.

Another tale from that trip, all about the cost of labour. The telephone line was to be installed underground, meaning a 60 mile long, 6 foot deep, 3 foot wide trench had to be dug. The day for laying the cable was approaching, and nothing was happening. My dad was getting worried. No problem, he was told. All is under control. And sure enough, the day before the cable was to be laid, workers showed up – thousands, each with a shovel. Each spent the day digging a short section, three feet wide, six feet deep, stretched over sixty miles. That’s 100 km. Because in those days, labour was much, much cheaper than investing in equipment.

  1. You are afraid of losing people but no one is afraid of losing you.
  2. Forgiving people in silence & not talking to them, is a form of self-care.
  3. Hope dies when efforts doesn’t work.
  4. Stay where there’s no fear in yourself.
  5. A little rain is nothing compared to the storm I grew up in.
  6. We are all unique, we only need to accept it.
  7. Just focus on yourself because many will hold you back for growing.
  8. If you are trying your best every single day, be proud of yourself.
  9. Silence is full of answers.
  10. Sometimes temporary people teach you permanent lessons.
  11. I always became an ear for those who need; but no one became for me.
  12. Even if you trust someone, don’t tell them everything.
  13. Don’t even hurt soft-hearted person, because you don’t know how much it got hurted.
  14. Maturity is when you realise your responsibilities are more important than heartbreak.
  15. Memories are too loyal than the people who gave.
  16. Value what you have & value your peace more than people’s opinion.
  17. Standing alone is better than being with fake people.
  18. Live your life today itself, because no one knows if there’ll be tomorrow or not.
  19. Childhood memories were best.
  20. Nobody is too busy, it is just a matter of priorities.

https://youtu.be/PwNhCa8Yr0Q

So let’s say you have this beautiful girlfriend. You love her and you have a fabulous relationship and you want to get married. But first, you want to test her to make sure she will always be loyal to you. One little test. You know she’ll pass because you are both so in love and meant to be together. So it will only prove it that much more, right?

So you have a friend that you always suspected she thought was good looking. You have him over. The three of you are hanging out and you make up an excuse to leave and, under your instructions, he attempts to hit on her and tries to make a move to see if she’ll take the bait. He says things like “your boyfriend will never know” and “it’s not like you’re married” and “I’ve seen the way you look at me”
But she turns him down at every turn and kicks him out of the house.

When you get home, she is upset. One of your best friends hit on her and made her feel like a piece of meat. You console her, feeling internally very confident and proud that your plan worked, and promise it will never happen again.

She says, no. He can never come here again.

You say, but he was just messing around! He won’t do it again!

And she says, how could you possibly know that?! You weren’t even here! He can never come here again.

And that’s when you realise you have to tell her. It was you. You did that to her.

You put her in that position.

In order to find out if she was trustworthy, you broke her trust.

She feels betrayed and hurt and horrified. And most likely you lose what you wanted most (your girlfriend) even though she passed the test you so cunningly set up for her. You are not as clever as you think and even if you are you will be a very clever, lonely man.

Friendship is not a threshold to be tested. Keep testing those limits and you will hit a wall…or a fist.

Friendship is alive and needs to be nourished and cared for by both sides.

The trustworthiness of your friends is a direct reflection of your own.

I got put in cuffs once, not being an idiot I knew that once the police wanted to put cuffs on there was no point doing or saying anything other than offering my wrists in a peaceful manner. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but once the police want to put cuffs on there’s no point arguing or fighting.

I was actually surprised how tight they put them on, but so long as you don’t pull on the cuffs or try and wriggle out you don’t injure yourself. If you struggle against them though it’s very painful. I tried to wriggle a bit in them just to see, and it’s not a good idea.

Once the police were satisfied I was an uninvolved bystander (I was walking out of a club behind a group of guys who decided to assault another guy on the way out), they took the cuffs off, apologised and sent me on my way. They must’ve realised something was up anyway when I had a southern accent (gang were northern) and happily let them cuff me instead of swearing and jostling the police as the gang did.

Anyways this is suffice to say that you really cause your own injuries when in cuffs. I cannot recommend the ‘not fighting/struggling with law enforcement’ tactic enough. Being honest, genuine and friendly no matter the circumstances is always the grown up move no matter how indignant you are.

My wife showed her character fairly early on in our relationship. We’d met online and talked for several months prior to our first in-person date. We were both divorced single parents, and as anyone who has been in that position while re-entering the dating world can attest, we turned to serious topics of conversation very quickly and our relationship became very close as we realized how compatible we were. A few months and many dates later, my kids summer vacation was starting. At the time, I worked for a propane company, so work slowed down a lot while my expenses dramatically increased, with the need for daycare during my parent time of 10 days on and 10 days off through the summer. As I recall, I typically spent about $2000 over each summer for that. I mentioned this to my girlfriend shortly before my second round of parent time for that summer, and she volunteered to babysit my kids during my parent time the rest of the summer. This got my attention. Under any circumstances, this would be a significant sacrifice, but in her case it involved traveling 6 hours one way with her own 2 kids, renting an Airbnb house (because at the time I lived at my parents house, and there wasn’t room for an extra 3 people) for a week, and coming up with a different craft or activity each day, and cooking delicious homemade meals for all of us 3 times a day. On top of that, she refused to let me pay anything for the rental or her gas and time, despite it probably costing her more than I would’ve spent on daycare. After that summer, I knew that without question, she would walk the walk for my kids and I as much as her own kids or herself. She’s not only my wife, but she is my best friend without question.

Philippines was colonised by USA until 1946.

Like many countries that were colonised before, some people still worship their coloniser as god, even after their country has become independent.

They have the mentality to look up to the (former) coloniser & look down upon its own culture/people. Physically they are independent but mentally they are slaves to their former coloniser.

Hongkong was a British colony until 1997. Today in 2024, there are still HKers who worship UK. Before 2020, HK court system still accepted top judges appointed by former coloniser UK. Why accept UK appointment? Are HK judges inferior? No. It is just because some HKers are so used to work as a mental slave for the (former) coloniser. They dont want to change. As long as they can make (lots of) money with a good job, they dont mind to continue to work for the former coloniser.

To mental slaves, their heart is with their former coloniser.

I wont be surprised if there are such Filipinos too.

Irish O’ Garlic Cabbage Pockets

Irish O’ Garlic Cabbage Pockets is a lunchtime favorite for St. Patrick’s Day!

irish o garlic cabbage pockets
irish o garlic cabbage pockets

Bake: 15 min | Yield: 12 servings

This recipe includes Air Fryer instructions!

Ingredients

  • 1 (19 ounce) package Johnsonville® Irish O’ Garlic Sausage, casings removed
  • 1 small head green cabbage, 1/4 inch slices
  • 1 onion, sliced
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 3 (1 pound) loaves frozen white bread dough, thawed and proofed
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 tablespoons water
  • Grainy mustard, to serve

Instructions

  1. In a large skillet, cook and crumble sausage over medium heat until browned and fully cooked; drain. Set aside and keep warm.
  2. Add cabbage and onion to same skillet; cook and stir for 6 minutes.
  3. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
  4. Return sausage to skillet; cook and stir for 2 to 3 minutes.
  5. Cover; reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes or until vegetables are tender.
  6. Roll bread dough into 18 (6 inch) circles. Place 1/2 cup of filling in the center of each circle.
  7. Brush water on edges of dough.
  8. Pull dough over top of filling and crimp down edges with a fork. Cut three slits in top of dough.
  9. In a small bowl, whisk together eggs and water to create egg wash. Brush dough with egg wash; sprinkle with sesame, poppy seeds or everything bagel seasoning.
  10. Bake at 350 degrees F for 12 to 15 minutes; until golden brown.
  11. Serve with grainy mustard.

Notes

Air Fryer Instructions

Heat air fryer to 300 degrees F.

In a bowl, combine the cabbage, onion and oil; toss to combine.

Fry for 15 to 20 minutes or until tender.

Decase the sausage; place in air fryer. Fry at 350 degrees F for 12 minutes, turning halfway through; chop. Combine with cabbage mixture; sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Roll bread into 18 (6 inch) circles.

Place 1/2 cup filling in the center of each circle. Brush water on edges of dough. Pull dough over filling and crimp edges with a fork. Cut three slits in top of dough. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with sesame, poppyseeds or everything bagel seasoning.

Arrange 2 pockets in air fryer; fry at 350 degrees F for 6 to 7 minutes or until golden brown. Repeat with remaining pockets.

I would make the challenge simpler at first. This is an iron nail made by the Romans

The production chain for a nail is very simple. You need to:

  • Mine iron ore. It sounds a lot more challenging once you understand that you’ll be mining with rocks, sticks and bones (no tools from the future).
  • Build a smelter. I guess you can do that with ceramics? The smelter also needs coal, charcoal might do.
  • Transport all this stuff. Obviously, if you’re lucky you teleported your group right between easily accessible iron and clay deposits.
  • Take your iron to a smithy where a guy will again need a furnace, hammer and anvil. Initially they’ll be working with rock tools.

In the meantime, your group of 1000 tool-less people is:

  • Hungry, with hunting and gathering as the only options for food initially.
  • Homeless – depending on the area, time period and climate, it may not be possible to build adequate shelter without tools.
  • Sick and injured – this lifestyle will produce a lot more sickness and injuries, and your group might be exposed to germs that they do not have antibodies against.
  • Threatened by predators or stone-age tribes – again, you can defend with sticks, fire and stones.

I think that having a sustainable colony and getting the first nail produced within a year would mean great success. It is possible given a bit of luck, mild climate, good survival skills and nearby resources (from food to iron). Congratulations, you’ve successfully entered the IRON AGE. Now you just need to skip a couple thousand years of progress to get to electronics.

Unfortunately, a computer is a product of hundreds of production chains, some rather complicated. The first electronic computers had vacuum tubes, finely and precisely tooled bits of various metals (like rotating drums) capacitors, cables… and obviously required electric power to operate. And weighed tons.

So your group of 1000 people (minus the ones who died) is ready to build the computer as soon as they recreate the industrial base of a modern civilization.

It seems like a bigger feat than 1000 people are capable of.

China has canceled US, Australian, France wheat imports, replacing them with orders from Russia, Kazakhstan and Argentina.

The US cancellation was the largest cancellation since 1999.

The Chinese government is showing a strong preference for buying from the BRICS and Global South economies, and is moving away from buying from the G7 countries which are part of the western bloc led by the US.

This is done for a combination of political and economic reasons. The US is pulling out the big guns when it comes to chip technology, AI, and blocking Chinese sales of EVs and solar panels, and more recently, the forced divesting of TikTok USA, which are all part of de-coupling and de-risking. From the Chinese perspective, the US’s Biden administration is heading rapidly in the direction of sanctions against Chinese companies following the sanctions applied against Russia. Opposition and hostility to Chinese companies and business interests in Congress is very strong, and China must be prepared for the US acting to seize Chinese assets which the US can reach. The only way to avoid this scenario is to have as few overseas assets in US dollars and held by US banks as possible.

This is the de-risking and de-coupling model the Chinese are following.

In the US, there may be a political side-effect in this US election year: Trump supporters are usually stronger in US rural states, and some farmers may blame the Biden administration for poor wheat sales and vote for Trump. In a tight race, this may be an important factor.

I spent three hours today sipping coffee while I did my weekly grocery shopping and other Saturday morning errands. I bought enough food to feed five people for a week, gas for my van, a dozen new comic books for my collection, and a few other random things. At no point during my shopping spree did I have to worry about being able to pay for any of it.

Then I came home and spent about four hours playing with my kids. It was the first warm day of the year here in Chicago, so I got to play basketball with my kids, ride bikes with them, play catch with them, and play soccer. I also got to spend about an hour walking my dog.

Then I spent about an hour grading some papers for work. I didn’t have to do that today, but I wanted to get it done. I sat in my recliner and graded them while listening to music and sipping yet more coffee. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.

Then I made dinner and enjoyed it with my family. Then I had a little alone time, reading my new comic books and surfing the internet, before spending even more time with my kids before tucking them into bed.

When I’m done with this post, I’ll head up to my bedroom, where my wife is already. She’s watching a show. When I come up, she’ll pass me the remote and let me watch whatever I want to watch, while she cuddles with me.

Do you think you’ll ever “make it”?

I “made it” about 15 years ago. Let me tell you, from someone on this side of the “it” hurdle, it’s awesome over here. I wish everyone good luck in jumping over that hurdle and joining me over here in the greenest pastures of all.

A fun experience. Takes you to Asia where life is so very different from that of the West.

Sexless bong water

You can only start to sanction another country if that country needs your stuffs and you stop selling to them! Today the U.S. don’t have a single thing it makes that others can’t do! In fact most nations can do stuffs cheaper, bettter and faster than the U.S. could do so sanctioning them is really like helping them save money! Hahahahaha!

Why not?

I was fired for something that I did two weeks after I started, 2.5 years prior.

The manager who fired me was my 5th manager in 2.5 years. On her first day, she informed me after finding out that I was on public transportation from a rural town (took over 2 hours to get to the job, one way) and going to college that I had limited availability (16 hours a week), she was unsure how long I would last. I lasted 1 month to the day when she started.

She did everything she could to provoke me into quitting cutting my hours to 3 a week or on one occasion to deck her. My avatar is my cat that I had for 16 years. I had to put him to sleep. I took one day off from work and returned two days later. She was waiting for me at the front door, and asked me, “Was that a good use of your Paid Time Off?” I stood there speechless, finally said, “Yes!” and walked away.

It was a blessing because, in my final term I was going to be available for one day, 8 hours a week.

She still works at that store, and still hates me!

A friend of mine from the US (I’d met her years ago at a teacher’s seminar and we’d stayed in touch) came to visit me and stayed with me for a couple of weeks. She hadn’t previously been to Australia and was surprised that we live in an Alpine area, she didn’t expect to see mountains topped with snow. I don’t think she believed me when I told her that we had more snow here in winter than falls on Switzerland. Apparently she thought we were all beaches and deserts with nothing in between. So I told her about our rainforests, tropical in the north of the country and temperate, cool-temperature in the south, about the huge productive farmlands, about our research centres, etc.

Her comment, which made me laugh? “It’s quite a big country, isn’t it?”

Well, yeah. Yeah, it is.

She then asked, “Would it be as big as England?”

Flabbergasted. And she is a teacher…

Women Are FURIOUS Seeing Men Go Overseas And Be Happy In Marriages And Relationships

I read a lot of fantasy answers from a lot of Pro Nato supporters who still think this is 1997

The first assumption is the Russia would launch a nuke from its own territory

The second assumption is that the Western Satellites would detect the move even before a Nuke is launched

In 1998, we pulled wool over the eyes of all those Western Satellites

India

Back then not even an emerging economy but an ordinary third world developing country dependent on imports for every aspect of defence


Russia have 65 Submarines of which 46 have the capability of carrying between 1–2 Nuclear Missiles

My guess is almost all these Submarines have been refurbished to carry Hypersonic Missiles with Thermonuclear Warheads

I am basing this guess on the fact that in 2022 August – a record 39 Submarines were serviced against an average of 12 a year from 2016–2021

The Instant a Nuke is even launched in Russia’s direction – these Submarines will launch their missiles in a pre arranged pattern at specific targets in Europe and NATO

London, NY, Lyons, Grenoble, Paris, Hamburg, Odessa, Nagasaki

That’s 46 Million people gone in the first wave

Vaporized literally

Sunak will be literal vapor

You can actually breathe him

The next would be the heat shock blast (There won’t be radioactive waste since these are Thermonuclears)

All Livestock within a 150–200 Mile radius is gone

Soil is rendered entirely useless for at least 100 years

That’s a further 140–180 Million people gone in the second wave

Finally you will have displacement, disease, starvation and that’s another 200–300 Million people gone in the third wave

The maximum deaths could be as high as 520 Million in NATO NATIONS

That’s 56% of the ‘Golden Billion’

Senator Cotton could actually breathe in his own wife and kids before he becomes vapor

Advanced Molecular integration


So it’s MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION as the name suggests

If Russia is destroyed , no less than 400–500 million Americans, Europeans and Japanese will die and their nations will go back to the stone age

There will be electronic Interference for at least 7–15 years


Why would Russia launch a Nuclear War?

They have no reason to do so

If Macron sends troops to Ukraine, the Russians will kill them

If Sunak sends troops to Ukraine, the Russians will kill them

They are all far below Ukraines fighting capability and Russians have trounced at least 350K Ukranians

Ukraine had been fighting Donbass Militia for 8 years and they had some blooding

Not UK Or France or Germany or Poland

TikTok Ban| Chips| AI Hype| CBDC! Conversation with/Richard Turrin!!

I met my husband in 2007 and he moved in with me a few months later. In November of that year his mother committed suicide, she took an overdose of drugs that she had stored up and put a plastic bag over her head. She had been in a nursing home for 12 years. I still don’t know what her actual diagnosis was, but I believe it was manic depression and a form of psychosis. Every day my father in law would spend hours with her in the home.

In 2016 we moved in to take care of him as he was becoming very frail. I grew very close to him and we would talk about his life etc. He would talk about J*** with such love and affection. He told me how for a long time she had begged him to help her end her life of pain. He had to tell her that he couldn’t, it was against the law and I could feel the pain that he went through.

He passed away aged 92 and I had the job of clearing out his possessions. At the back of a drawer in his bedside table I found a book called Dying with dignity. A page had the corner turned over which described the method that his wife had used. He had left this for one of us to find after his death. He had helped her with her final request and carried the secret to his grave.

Some words for today

Yes.

A tree fell on my 2015 Chrysler 200. I really enjoyed the car but it was a goner. One of the issues when living in the woods I guess. I don’t think I ever got a second glance from anyone while I drove it.

As luck would have it my insurance settlement worked out quickly and I replaced the 200 with a 2017 Lincoln MKZ Select. It really wasn’t an upgrade in my opinion… more like an even swap.

Um, it might be important to know that I am 59 years old but am often mistaken as someone much younger.

The next day I was getting in my car as a much older-appearing couple were getting out of a Kia or some other cheap car. The lady sneered at me and the man commented “Nice car you entitled punk. Did your mommy buy that car for you?”

I replied with a smile “Thanks for the compliment. I like being told that I look younger than I am.”

The lady asked “How old are you?”

“59. How about you two?”

“We’re both 51.”

“Good! Maybe when you grow up you can get a nice car just like mine.”

Take her into YOUR world

It all depends on the person, doesn’t it?

At 76 going on 77, I marvel that my 75 year old brother still jogs for miles and competes in inline skating marathons. I walk for miles and do some ice skating, usually with a ski pole in my hand to help me get up if I fall.

  • I avoid climbing ladders because I lost two friends to falls in their 70s (one instantly and the other in assisted living for the last ten years of life). My brother, Al, just completely renovated a house at 72–73. I just paid some contractors to renovate parts of mine.
  • Every one should avoid buying a time share, but especially those over 70. Even getting a mortgage to buy or build a new residence seems extreme. I used to salivate over House Hunters International. I’m so lucky I didn’t buy my dream home in an Italian hilltop town.
  • I avoid soda pop, Big Macs, and hot dogs. Why tempt the gods?
  • I avoid signing up for online subscriptions or making donations to television evangelists. My mother didn’t and we filled a dumpster with unread magazines and CD’s from religious hucksters.
  • I avoid both Fox News and MSNBC. Because.
  • Now that I am no longer that 35 year old testosterone poisoned jerk who makes a show of passing slower drivers and pulling in front of them in disgust, I avoid the temptation to flip them off.
  • I feel people over 75 should avoid running for President or Senator.

There’s still enough not to avoid, so I better end this.

Welcome to the United States

Sanjay Madan was the IT director for the Ontario Ministry of Education. He saw how lax the security was , and set up a system where he would award an IT contract for $900 a day, and his partner would find someone to subcontract for $450 a day. In his first year, they managed to take $467,000 by 2019, they were stealing $6.5 million a year. The very weird part of this is that his partner was a police informant, who never informed police. Everything was going along perfectly, and by 2020 they had stolen $37,000,000 doing this, and nobody knew that a crime had been committed. I think the police need some better informants.

Then covid hit, and they got greedy, the government was giving out between $200 and $250 to children that had to be home schooled because of covid.

He filed 48,000 fake applications and had all the money deposited into the same five bank accounts. Again he got away with it. $10.8 million dollars. How many scammers do you know that pulled the same scam 48,000 times and got away with it. But, by filing 48,000 claims, he increased the odds that one of them would file for their own child. They of course were accused of double dipping, and of course they were indignant, because they were honest. They investigated and found that the money hadn’t gone into the real applicants account. So then they searched to see if more money had gone into that account, and there was millions.

In total he stole $47.4 million. He has given back $30 million and after he gets out of jail in 10 years, he has five more years to repay the rest, or face further jail time.

But wait!!! The best part of this is that his defense was that it was entrapment. Nobody makes a system that easy to steal from if it isn’t a trap.

Welcome to Asia

One Christmas, at around 1 A.M. my partner and I spotted a van driving the opposite direction of us in an alley. Something about the way the guy looked at us made it seem like he was up to no good, so we turned around to follow him and run his plates. So, we caught the guy after a vehicle pursuit and a foot pursuit.

Long story a little less long, the van hadn’t been reported stolen and it had the keys in it, but we were pretty sure it was stolen. We had an assisting unit wait with the van, gifts, and suspect while we drove to the registered owner’s home and knocked. The police knocked at 1:30 or 2 a.m. A grumpy lady came to the door and eyed us suspiciously and assumed “the pose” (arms crossed, leaning slightly back and to one side, with head down and hip thrust off to the opposite side).

“What?”

“Ma’am, are you Mary Crankypants?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you own a 1990 blue Astrovan License 123ABC?”

{exaggerated exhalation of breath as if bored) “Yeeeeahhhh?”

“We stopped a guy named Johnny Lightfingers driving it at 120th and Avalon. Do you know him, and does he have permission to have your vehicle?”

“NO I don’t and NO he doesn’t.”

“Well the van is loaded with a bunch of kids’ Christmas presents. Are your Christmas presents missing?”

(An exhalation of breath as if we were putting her out) “Just a second”, she huffed at us, before disappearing to look. She returned several seconds later,

(Again with the exhalation of breath as if we were putting her out) “The presents are all gone toooo.”

“Can somebody with a license come with us and pick up the van and presents?”

(And AGAIN with the exhalation of breath as if we were putting her out) “Fiiine.”

She stomped off to get some clothes on.

Our guy went to jail for burglary, vehicle theft, evading, parole violation and driving on a suspended license, but that lady was possibly the most ungrateful person I have ever met in my life.

Why Hiring Women Has Become BAD For BUSINESS

Join the “STAY AWAY ” Movement….

Pastitsio (Baked Macaroni)

I suppose this could be called the “comfort food” of Greek cooking. Pastitsio uses a béchamel sauce, one of the five mother sauces. My sister and I absolutely love this, and we used to make it all the time when we saw each other more often. But I also eat it at the St. Katherine’s Greek Festival every year.

pastitsio
pastitsio

Prep: 25 min | Cook: 55 min | Yield: 8 to 12 servings

Ingredients

Macaroni

  • 1 pound macaroni
  • 1/4 pound butter
  • 1 1/2 pounds ground turkey or beef
  • 1/2 can tomato paste
  • 6 ounces grated Romano or Parmesan cheese
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
  • Salt and pepper

Sauce

  • 4 cups warm milk, divided
  • 5 eggs
  • 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 sticks butter

Instructions

Macaroni

  1. Cook macaroni (but not well done) in boiling, salted water and drain.
  2. Sauté onion in a little butter.
  3. Add ground meat and stir until brown.
  4. Add tomato paste, thinned with a little water.
  5. Add salt, pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg. Cook until meat is done.
  6. Melt butter; pour over drained macaroni, mixing carefully.
  7. Spread half of the macaroni on the bottom of a 13 x 9-inch pan.
  8. Sprinkle half of the grated cheese on top.
  9. Spread entire meat mixture on top.
  10. Cover with remaining macaroni and remaining grated cheese.

Sauce

  1. Boil 3 cups of the milk with 1 1/2 sticks butter.
  2. Add flour to remaining 1 cup milk and blend well.
  3. Add flour mixture to boiling butter and milk. Thicken and cool.
  4. After this has cooled, add 5 beaten eggs, or drop small amounts of the milk mixture into the eggs while stirring constantly. Once the egg mixture gets warm to hot, add the remaining milk.
  5. Pour sauce over the macaroni. Shake the pan and insert a knife to penetrate thoroughly.
  6. Bake at 350 degrees F for 40 to 45 minutes.

Prof. Jeffrey Sachs: US/Russia/China: Worst Tensions in 30 Years.

I was born July 1945 from my whole life. I knew that in November 19 63 the United States of America cease to exist. It was not the America that I had grown up in. and as a retired lawyer admitted to the bar of Massachusetts and Maryland. I am distraught about how lawless the courts and judicial system now are I always thought they were the last refuge, but they’ve gone over to the dark side for the most part.

I worked at a fast food place. When we closed there’d usually be a little bit of food left over in the warming bins. 2 to 4 burger patties, a grilled chicken and a fried chicken typically, as we cut back on what was prepped ahead later in the evening. We, the employees were allowed to eat the left overs as we finished closing duties. One of the perks of the otherwise annoying jobs of closing. The managers and other employees often had me make them sandwiches, as I came up with some interesting combos. Sometimes if they didn’t get eaten one of the employees would take a couple of patties or whatever was left over home with them for the fridge.

One night one of the cooks who had been there for years, was putting in about 10 quarter pound patties through the broiler, about 10 minutes before close. The manager told them there was no way we were going to sell that many before close (obviously). He just said that any we didn’t sell he would just take home with him. Obviously only making them for that purpose. The next day there was a rule that all leftover food had to be thrown out at the end of the night. No employees were allowed to eat any of it or take it home. One person ruined it for everyone, and of course he was the one that complained the most about it, when he was the one that caused it.

This is all they do

Wiggle their butts.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/hFyzorkEpTA?feature=share

While painting, he noticed a small hole in the hull, and quietly repaired it.

When he finished painting, he received his money and left.

The next day, the owner of the boat came to the painter and presented him with a nice check, much higher than the payment for painting.

The painter was surprised and said “You’ve already paid me for painting the boat Sir!”

“But this is not for the paint job. It’s for repairing the hole in the boat.”

“Ah! But it was such a small service… certainly it’s not worth paying me such a high amount for something so insignificant.”

“My dear friend, you do not understand. Let me tell you what happened:

“When I asked you to paint the boat, I forgot to mention the hole.

“When the boat dried, my kids took the boat and went on a fishing trip.

“They did not know that there was a hole. I was not at home at that time.

“When I returned and noticed they had taken the boat, I was desperate because I remembered that the boat had a hole.

“Imagine my relief and joy when I saw them returning from fishing.

“Then, I examined the boat and found that you had repaired the hole!

“You see, now, what you did? You saved the life of my children! I do not have enough money to pay your ‘small’ good deed.”

So no matter who, when or how, continue to help, sustain, wipe tears, listen attentively, and carefully repair all the ‘leaks’ you find. You never know when one is in need of us, or when God holds a pleasant surprise for us to be helpful and important to someone.

Along the way, you may have repaired numerous ‘boat holes’ for several people without realizing how many lives you’ve save. ❤️

Make a difference….be the best you can…”

I’m fine

When I re-connected with a lot of my old high school classmates on Facebook, and I saw how many of the “popular” kids ended up with really bad careers and marriages. That’s when I realized that being unpopular in high school probably helped me focus on my education and made me so much more grateful for my wife, which led to a better marriage.

Many of the guys who got all of the girls in my high school — the guys I used to be so jealous of — now have crappy jobs, failed out of college, have criminal records, have multiple children from multiple women, and generally look miserable on their Facebook posts.

It’s even worse for the women I graduated with. So many of those beautiful classmates that I used to wish would just give me a chance… they’re now drug addicts, have multiple children with multiple men, have abusive boyfriends and husbands, and just look so… miserable and beaten down by their lives.

I knew many of these people in grammar school. We were friends then. But in middle school and especially in high school, when the social cliques really started forming and I was left out of them, their personalities changed. They quit trying in school. They focused on getting dates, parties, etc… The typical popular teenager stuff.

Not all the popular kids, of course. Some of them ended up in good places in life. But many of them didn’t. And I think it can be traced right back to those high school years.

Dating and partying weren’t distractions for me. That’s the hidden advantage to being an unpopular high schooler… you don’t lose focus on your education. And, in college, when I finally met a woman who gave me a chance, I treated her like a queen, and it’s worked out great for us.

So, if you’re an unpopular high schooler today, particularly if you’re a guy who gets no attention from the ladies… fear not! It’s a blessing in disguise. “The ladies” are a distraction… for now at least. Education first, then career. Then watch how the roles change. A man in his 20s with a college education and stable, successful career? You’ll never have to worry about not finding a date again.

The Consequences Of Degrading Men

Something is happening to boys and there is goring to be a very serious backlash.

I worked at Wilkins Dodge in Roseville MN around 1990

We were not the most productive dealer in the area for sure, selling an average of 60 used vehicles and 50 New vehicles per month.

A new Gm is hired and he has big plans for us to jump into the big leagues starting with hiring 12 new salespeople to add to our 8 person team plus 2 older than dirt fleet managers. Great we all said or thought collectively while in the middle of a very serious circle jerk.

Somehow the GM finds 12 people that can speak, tie a tie, own a pen and can pass a background check. To us the all looked like the guys that knock on your door asking about religion.

So they (the 12) are offered paid training at 300.00 Dollars a week for 2 weeks at 5 days each for 8 hours…They are all signed up thru Mopar sales training and are by all accounts doing OK.

Wilkins Dodge had no A/C and MN in August can be a little humid especially in the upstairs training room with no windows. The 12 endured though and all passed their training with higher than average scores.

On the last Friday the GM has a moment of clarity and realizes we don’t have the inventory or budget to keep all 12 newly minted superstars of retail.

He call them out to the used car side of the building (in the shade) around 430 and asks them to form a line and count off by two’s.

2’s please step forward and they do so. Ones please go inside and find a desk and I’ll be with you shortly.

2’s remain stepped forward and look confused but still not grasping the situation. Please see me for your checks, we’ve decided to change our plan regarding your employment says the GM and have a nice weekend please send your family or friends for a vehicle.

Swearing, muttering and insults from remaining 6 plus some more than a lfew expressions of soon to be physical violence had the GM exiting the area towards the service department tossing the checks in the air behind him…….

Good times….

Roast Pork with Potato Dumplings

This is one of my all-time favorite comfort foods.

roast pork with dumplings and sauerkraut 650x276
roast pork with dumplings and sauerkraut 650×276

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

Dumplings

  • 3 to 4 pounds starchy potatoes
  • 2 to 3 eggs
  • 1/2 to 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • Sea and or kosher salt, to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

Pork Roast

  • 1 pork roast
  • Oil (for browning)
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • Paprika, to taste
  • 1/2 to 1 pound coarsely chopped onions

Instructions

Dumplings

  1. In a large pot, boil potatoes in salted water with the skins on. Peel and put them through a ricer (if you don’t have a ricer, use the back of a spoon to smash potatoes through a sieve). Let cool completely.
  2. Refrigerate.
  3. The next day, about 30 minutes before the roast is finished, set a large pot of salted water to boil.
  4. To the cooled, riced potatoes add eggs and 8 to 14 tablespoons of flour, depending on how starchy the potatoes are). Also add salt, nutmeg and parsley. Using your hands, form potatoes into balls between the size of golf and tennis balls.
  5. Add the potato balls to the boiling water but do not let the water continue to boil. When they float to the top in 15 to 20 minutes, they are done.

Pork Roast

  1. In a large, heavy pot, heat oil. Sprinkle the roast with salt, pepper and paprika, and brown quickly in oil. Add onions and brown them, too. Turn heat down to medium low. Add a little water. A carrot and a couple of fresh tomatoes can also be added if desired. Cover and cook for 2 hours, turning occasionally.
  2. To make gravy (optional), remove the roast and add a little water to the pan to de-glaze it. Add a little flour or cornstarch to thicken the drippings.
  3. Serve dumplings and pork roast with red cabbage or sauerkraut.

This was more an unspoken attitude than a workplace rule, but someone lost their job over it.

When I came to work for a certain company, I was an in-your-face out lesbian. Nobody seemed to mind, at least nobody said anything and I was well-liked.

One of the married women struck up a friendship with me and we used to go walking at lunch time. She was really into her church and she not-so-subtly tried to get me to believe that being gay was wrong. When I didn’t bite, she started asking me questions about how I knew I was queer, how it affected my life, how it was different being in a relationship with a man vs a woman (I had been in a conventional het relationship prior to coming out). I answered all her questions as honestly as I could, trying to raise awareness that queer folk aren’t really that different from straight folk.

It turned out that she had been questioning all her life and was trying to work up the courage to come out herself. I SWEAR I WASN’T TRYING TO CONVERT HER.

She ended up coming out while I worked there. I was dumbfounded when she told me—I had no clue. I really thought she was a church lady. Her husband left her, which she was actually relieved about.

I eventually left there for a higher-paying job. When I caught up with the woman a few years later, she told me she had been fired for coming out of the closet. Nobody could accept her transition from straight life to queer life. They were used to seeing her as a straight woman and they looked at her transition as a sort of betrayal. so, I guess if you were already queer that was ok, but you weren’t allowed to change teams.

EDIT: One, she didn’t suddenly start crowing at work about what a dyke she was. It was a small, tight-knit company so her divorce became known. She also cut her hair short and started wearing less feminine clothing. She stopped talking about Jesus and church, since her church rejected her when she came out. It wasn’t hard for the boss to extrapolate.

Two, of course the company didn’t tell her they were firing her for being a lesbian. They gradually transferred her best clients to other workers, started giving her poor reviews and difficult clients and basically made the work environment unpleasant for her. They laid her off after they had gathered enough (fake) documentation to support firing her for cause, and she didn’t bother fighting it.

EDIT: Any comments implying that the people in the story are liars will be deleted.

I’m not answering any more comments or questions that:

  1. Have already been addressed in the comments
  2. Demonstrate that the commenter believes they can interpret the situation better than those involved
  3. Demonstrate poor reading comprehension. I’m not an elementary school teacher.

I hate this guys voice, but the message is really good.

Comic Trial Three

I had a cardiologist tell me. repeatedly, that I had panic attacks. He said I didn’t have angina. He sent me for a stress test, which I could not do from “imaginary” chest pain. I insisted on a angiogram. He mocked me and scoffed. I was desperate at this point and kept insisting. He angrily ordered one and told me it was a waste of time and what I really needed was a psychiatrist.

I showed up for my 7 AM Friday appointment at Broward General. I don’t know what he had written or told them, but I sat there for the entire day. Finally, about 5 PM, I went in. (I actually have no memory of anything after flicking a cigarette away at 7, when I arrived.) I woke up Monday in terrible pain. I had no idea what had happened. My wife told me that after just a few minutes, the doctor had come out and said they could not complete the angiogram because of severely clogged arteries, (including the one that causes the “widowmaker”. They put me in cardiac ICU and kept me heavily sedated until Monday, when they could operate. I had a triple bypass. The cardiologist told me I was very lucky to be alive.

Oh, and that cigarette I flicked away was my last one. I can take a hint. (That was Jan 2011.)

Ugh!!!!!!

Men need “nothing time”.

Year: 1905

Location: San Francisco

It was winter. Frank Epperson was thirsty.

He decided to make himself a drink. He took a flavored sugar mix, put it in a cup, stirred it with a brown stirring stick.

After playing outside, he forgot he’d left his drink on the front lawn.

He then went inside and went to bed. When he came back out the following morning, he saw his cup sitting there with frozen liquid.

Picking it up, he pulled the stick out, the frozen sugar water was attached to it. In true kid fashion, without worrying if it was dirty, Frank ate the frozen liquid—and loved it.

He realized he was on to something.

And so he started putting more cups out, with the wooden sticks in them and began selling what he called the Epsicle. His entrepreneurial take on the lemonade stand.

Sales started in his neighborhood and then expanded outward.

Eventually, he renamed the product to Popsicle.

And thus, a new popular trend was born.

An accidental invention.

Unconscious

About two decades ago, a woman I know lost her father.

A day or two later, she found out her husband was sentenced to prison.

A couple of days later, her daughter-in-law decided to get a divorce.

Those few days COMPLETELY turned this woman’s life around.

The next day, a Monday, she went to work as normal, didn’t tell her colleagues a thing, put on a brave face.

When she came home, her husband wasn’t around as he was in prison.

She went about her usual business as if nothing had happened – cooking food and stuff.

She had a chat with her kids, including the eldest going through his divorce, told them all would be fine, lifted their spirits.

The following day, she went back to work.

She opened up about her experience to me and someone else a few weeks ago – I mean, everyone in my social circle knew about the events – but she had never discussed how she experienced it – how she coped, her motivation, which was to protect her kids.

I only then really realised why her kids, all of whom I have known since I was a child, have done so incredibly well – they had grown up with this woman as their leader.

No complaints, no self-pity, selfless. Being the example she wanted her kids to be.

This is the best example I have seen of leadership.

And, frankly, the type only a woman is capable of.

Patara’s Response to State of Union Address

That was not a state of the union address. It was a declaration of war on the American people.

The French aristocracy pre-Revolution weren’t the careless, luxurious bastards lording over everyone cruelly as they are made out to be. This is demonstrated most perfectly by the fact that many of the most prominent revolutionaries were, themselves, noblemen.

In the same vein, Louis XVI wasn’t overthrown because he was a tyrant, he was overthrown because he was NOT a tyrant. If anything him being friendly, indecisive and soft-willed moreso than his war-minded predecessors Louis XV and Louis XIV, made him into a target. The Kings before him stayed reasonably popular. By going to war a lot and spending obscene amounts of money that would ultimately lead to the Kingdom’s downfall, these rulers were generally rather respected by much of the population. Much like with the last Tsar of Russia, the King who ended up losing his head to the guillotine was a pretty chill, open-minded fellow open to reforms.

There’s this stereotype of these lavishly spoiled big spenders in powdered wigs, Marie-Antoinette telling the hungry should just “go eat cake”, completely removed from reality… and truthfully, this is bullshit. A ton of noblemen were social reformers, generous to the poor, conscientious and cared deeply for the common man. The revolutionaries who took over, quite a few of them were blue-blooded themselves. And were far worse than the elites they ended up killing.

Captain Kirk Meets Gary Seven

Oh, definitely. I think my old manager, David Filo fits that to a tee. He often sat around barefoot while coding; and when he was wearing shoes, they were ten-year-old sneakers, starting to show holes in them.

He drove an old Datsun for the longest time, full of random crap. Old software manuals, books, pizza boxes. When a bomb scare was called in at work, one day, the bomb squad searched the campus; they eventually called a mostly-all-clear; they’d only found one suspicious object, and cordoned it off. It was my boss’s car, dilapidated and so full of junk as to be suspiciously possible as to be harboring a bomb. (It wasn’t; as the founder of the company, he would never have done anything to harm it like that). (I think Rolling Stone gave a very apt description of his car, many years ago: “a battered Datsun filled from top to bottom with junk, including enough lumber to build several sets of bookshelves. (“If we were living in the 16th century, David would be a monk,” says Yang of his partner’s asceticism.) He bought the car while in high school in Lake Charles, LA. As a student at Tulane University, he totaled it, bought it back from the insurance company for $300 and then had it rebuilt at a local prison, where the inmates were studying auto repair.” — from Yahoo!)

I’ve written elsewhere about his reaction to hearing about a really good lease deal a fellow co-worker had gotten on an electric vehicle: Matthew Petach’s answer to How do billionaires see $100K or $1M? Do they still consider it a lot of money? That story is the epitome of how he approached the world; as laid back and low key as you could imagine.

And yet, he was worth about $5 billion at the time. Depending on the market shifts, he might gain or lose half a billion dollars from one day to the next. It made no difference to him; he was the same focused engineer, working hard to make sure everything was running smoothly.

He did eventually get a new car, but only after the board of directors insisted, because the insurance company would no longer provide insurance for them until he drove something considered less risky.

As a multi-billionaire, he definitely qualifies as filthy rich; and yet I’ve never seen him act that way, not even once. A truly class act, all around.

1 am at Tokyo’s Super Mysterious Adult zone

It Started: America on BILL STRIKE | 75M Stop Paying

There are three possible interpretations of the “end” of the Roman Empire in the West, and all are equally correct, depending on one’s point of view.

The most common one you read is that it ended on 4 September AD 476, when the German magister militum Odoacer overthrew Romulus Augustus, who was the Emperor ruling in Ravenna (the Western capital of the time, not Rome), and took control himself. He sent a letter back to Emperor Zeno in Constantinople, stating that the Empire needed only one Emperor, and sent back the western imperial regalia. Zeno accepted this (although he continued to recognize another man as Emperor; read on) and granted him patrician rank. Odoacer declared himself “King of Italy” and ruled for the next 17 years.

Another interpretation is based on the historical fact that Romulus Augustus was both a usurper and a puppet emperor set up by his father, the barbarian general Orestes, in 475, and was never recognized by Zeno as the legitimate Emperor. The actual Emperor, Julius Nepos, fled from Ravenna and set up court in Dalmatia, where he reigned, still recognized by Zeno, until 9 May 480, when he was assassinated by political enemies. Before this, Odoacer actually struck coins in Roman mints recognizing him as Emperor, accepting him as titular Emperor in the West as long as Nepos didn’t attempt to actually retake Italy. Odoacer occupied Dalmatia himself about a year later.

A third possibility lies in the fact that even after 9 May 480, there was a part of the old Western Empire that still gave allegiance directly to the Emperor. This was a substantial part of northern Gaul (France) under the control of a Roman general named Syagrius. Historians call it the “Kingdom of Soissons,” after the city that Syagrius governed from. He controlled this land from 464 to 486:

Syagrius’ problem was that he had an ally in a Frankish king, Childeric, who supported him in conflicts and had no desire to annex the area. But he died in 481 and was succeeded by his ambitious son Chlodovech, who is known to history as Clovis. Sometime in 486, we are not sure of the date, Chlodovech attacked Syagrius and defeated him in a battle near Soissons. He annexed the region to the growing Frankish Kingdom. And with that ended the final vestige of the Roman Empire in the West.

Stressful Travel To Mainland China

I walked into a convenience store in Venice, CA and ran into a cute girl with an English accent. She says to me, “Excuse me, but were you in Vegas last weekend?”

I thought for a second and realized I had gone to a friend’s bachelor party the previous weekend. “Yes,” I said, “do I know you?”

She says, “I have a photo of us.”

She then pulls her digital camera out of her bag and proceeds to show me several pictures of her and me dancing quite inappropriately at the club in Hard Rock Hotel.

I ask her if she lives in Vegas or Los Angeles. She lives in England and is just visiting the states on holiday. Somehow, I managed to dance with this girl all night in Vegas and then run into her 300 miles away in Venice five days later.

10 Harshest Truths About Women That Men Learn Too Late

Just reading through the other answers, there is a LOT of anti-China sentiment and justified by the “Chinese have so many spies here blah blah blah Influence the Government blah blah blah etc etc” Well it’s the same here in New Zealand and so far there hasn’t been one shred of evidence to back up these claims of spying and espionage and influence. This includes the Huawei 5G backdoor thing. No evidence at all.

As an example here. A well known University Professor who wrote a book about the above subject has claimed to have had her house broken into a number of times (by Chinese spies), her car tampered with (by Chinese spies) to try to kill her. The media is outraged and other University Professors are signing protests to China letters to our Government, but it’s all fake and made up. She is either delusional or trying to sell more books. The police have investigated and come up with no evidence at all. But does that matter? Not one bit. Are the Police going to out her? Of course not, that’s not PC to shame a mad woman. The public is still rabidly anti China because the fake story that paints a villain is way more appealing than actual facts. And yes that’s my fault too, because what makes news is clicks and I click on Trump stories and help to make his bullshit get to the top of the front page.

So in answer to your question, in some ways we are trying to please USA – per the 5 eyes thing and US paranoid spy agencies sending the info/alarmism/ anti China rhetoric our way. In some ways we are just jumping on the same nationalist bandwagon that most developed western democracies seem to be jumping on. In other ways we see our house prices going up and like to blame the Chinese rather than our own shortsightedness in failing to build enough homes the last couple of decades. Finally, same as Australia, our mad political system gives a big voice to a small and xenophobic party.

Cats can take it all away

I think system to system comparisons are meaningless when comparing the PRC’s military to the US. F-22 vs J-20 type comparisons make no sense when those fighters have very specific roles to play in the very different air combat philosophies of the USAF and PLAAF. If I was to hazard a guess I would say the F-22 would be fulfilling it’s designed role as an air superiority fighter while the J-20 would be deployed to use it’s stealth to destroy US surveillance, EW and AWACs platforms in contested airspace, a much more niche role.

Both of these platforms would be considered great if they meet the mission they were designed for rather than who wins some hypothetical air to air engagement.

So this answer is going to avoid most of these platform comparisons and try to take a higher level look at how the military postures of both countries compare within the context of technology, doctrines, military industries and objectives.


Joint Operations

The US excels in these. Recall that back in WW2, the French had better tanks and aircraft than the Germans but still lost their short war with Germany because their officer corp just didn’t know how to put them all together to conduct effective military operations.

The US has a effective Joint Chiefs of Staff committee to ensure the armed elements of the US military play nice with each other and can execute integrated battle plans effectively.

The Chinese are new to this. They realized how far ahead the US was in this field when they witnesses the US military’s capabilities in 1991 in the first Gulf war as well as the frustration of the 1996 US carrier pass.

At the moment, one thing the Chinese military is planning for is that rather than try to catch up to the US in terms of integrated systems and operations which would take a loooong time to do (they also don’t have the rich combat history and experience of the US military), what they can do is engage in something called ‘System Destruction’.

That is, the Chinese military should focus on degrading and pulling apart the overall US military system.

So if the US military has a Recon Strike Complex, the Chinese focus on taking away their recon ability. This has been demonstrated by their endeavors to develop ASAT capabilities and soft kill capabilities with lasers and EW. Alongside developing small satellites that can be launched into space and maneuvered close to American satellites to destroy them.

Similarly, the US is built heavily around the idea of Airpower dominance over it’s foes and the Chinese Strategic Support Force (the ex-Rocket Force) is specifically designed to nullify this advantage by training and equipping to use ballistic missiles to take out air bases from which the bulk of USAF activity will be based.

However, the conclusion here is that the US is still pretty ahead in terms of Joint Operations and while the PRC military is building up the capability to disrupt them, in order to take advantage of these disruptions, they need to up the scale and pace of their own Joint Operations capability.


The Ballistic Missile threat

The PRC ballistic missile force’s primary goal is to make US bases unusable. The short range missiles are aimed at the US bases in Okinawa while the more medium range missiles are designed to disrupt operations from bases in Japan.

And the DF-26 is designed to make even operations from bases like Guam risky if not maybe as disrupted as the other bases.

The PRC ballistic missile threat is in part inspired by the US military’s failure to effectively hunt and destroy SCUDs in Iraq during the first Gulf War. Which leads the PRC to believe that if they have mobile, solid fueled missile systems, they would not be as prone to destruction from US military forces and pose a considerable threat for the duration of any war with the US. These kinds of missiles are hard to hunt, can quickly break from cover, set up and fire before the enemy can fire back at them.

With a mobile missile system like the SCUD, you have a 15 minute window to detect and destroy it once it breaks from cover. This is currently not within the capability of the US military.


The Drone Threat

The Chinese don’t have as much loitering munition drones as the US so they definitely do lag here. They have gotten the Israeli Harpy drone, which costs less than half a million bucks but has a longer range than the F-35. These drones can be sent out by the Chinese to search for threats, locate and scan airfields in prep work for artillery and missile bombardment. IF they can make it into a defended air space.

This is completely out of date. -MM

Space

The ability of space based platforms to provide you imaging (visual or infrared) across the planet + put SAR radars on small satellites means that your ability to locate and track objects from space for a military purpose is growing rapidly. This is the kind of ability the Chinese are building up in space.

Now you still cant track aircraft but for fixed targets or large naval targets like a carrier, in conjunction with autonomous terrestrial systems you have a much better capability to locate and target naval assets. So you could use space based assets to locate naval surface targets and use them to maneuver autonomous systems like the Israeli Harop drone munition into the area where a carrier might be. And then the Harop’s own sensors take over and actively hunt in the area. (Again, assuming it can make it through contested space).

In the near future, we might have 10–15,000 satellites doing this in space and you could of course blow the whole orbit up and deny this capability to both the US and China but short of that, what the two countries are positioning themselves for is not just having these assets in space but being able to replace them once an adversary has destroyed them.

The problem with the US side is that they have a good ability to replace military satellites but in space, both civil and military capabilities operate in conjunction. So if the Chinese switch from targeting military to civil satellites, the US doesn’t have rapid replacement in place for them. And these are satellites that operate critical infrastructure like bank transactions etc.

At the moment the Chinese have quantity while the US has quality when it comes to space based assets but the US has the added advantage of commercial space launch capability as well with technologies ranging from 3D printed rockets etc. that China doesn’t have to the same scale.


Naval comparisons

The PLAN is now the largest navy in the world and while on general, the USN has better quality ships, the new PLAN destroyers like the Type 55 are fairly at par with the USN equivalent ships. Same with the stealth fighters, the question is how quickly they can approach the USN in terms of significant scale of deployment in the active military.

Underwater warfare, the USN has a clear lead and the PLAN is not close at all to bridging that gap. The PLAN is responding by seeding a huge network of sensors in the South China sea to weed out USN submarines so the USN would probably have to respond with unmanned autonomous subs in the area, turning the underwater war largely into an unmanned one.

Carrier warfare, the US has a lead as well but this lead is somewhat meaningless if we talk about a war near China. If anyone thinks the USN is going to send their carriers into the range of Chinese MRBMs and H-6 Bombers carrying extended range cruise missiles, I would highly suggest alternative thinking here. The PRC has specifically developed this extended range weapons to force the USN carriers back and nullify their advantages at close range to the Chinese seaboard.

This is based around the Chinese doctrine of ‘Counter Intervention’ which is specifically designed to force US assets like Carriers away from the Chinese shoreline.

So this creates an interesting situation where the Chinese have forced the carriers out of the first Island Chain so it’s mostly USN subs and surface vessels that would operate in the contest areas closer to the Chinese seaboard. Where the Chinese are catching up in surface vessels. For underwater, if the USN is willing to risk full subs in sensor rich environments, that’s up to them but I think they might pull even the USN subs out of the south China sea at least and be forced to replace them with autonomous underwater subs to fight against Chinese autonomous underwater subs.


Production

At the October Plenum of 2020, the PRC moved up the date for military modernization by saying they wanted a modern Chinese military by 2027.

This has accelerated their military production targets and they are currently ahead of the US in:

  1. Ballistic missiles and cruise missiles in both numbers and quality (the ballistic missiles lead might not mean much since the US doesn’t really utilize them in a battlefield context).
  2. They have a much more massive ship building program ongoing compared to the USN.
  3. They are ahead in Air defense systems while making good use of old ones.

The Chinese are also pushing ahead with a concept called ‘Civil-Military Fusion’ which is designed to integrate their civilian technology base with their military tech base (Sorta similar to how the US has it set up as well). Which is important because it means it won’t just be government led efforts that lead to tech advances only, but that Chinese private firms will sometimes even take the lead in military advances in AI, computing, autonomous systems, biotech, information tech, advanced material manufacturing, 5G and in the future 6G.

There is an issue however that the Chinese government, in an attempt to assert control and monitoring over the civil tech space, is pushing a bureaucratic layer on top of it which is expected to slow down the pace of Chinese technology than before. To compensate for this, the CPC will also push additional funding to the civilian tech space engaged in military tech development. So there’s a careful balancing act that needs to be done there. Also, the US is also vulnerable to this: Anyone familiar with the Pentagon’s bureaucratic policies would be familiar with how it introduces massive delays and cost overspends.

The Chinese have struggled with Aircraft engines and currently a lot of their aircraft projects have the Russians or Ukrainians as subcontractors to provide the engines. Russian engines by the way, are unusable after 500 hours. For military aircraft that might be ok but for civilian ones it’s a no-go so if the Chinese have any military platforms like EW and AWACs on civilian aircraft with Russian engines, it raises the question of availability.

Funnily enough, while the US has no issue with aircraft engines and can produce very high quality engines, they just cant make a lot of them at the same time. The F-35 production line right now is 15 aircraft a month at peak production. This is considered low by some standards but to be honest, considering that it’s a very advanced fighter it doesn’t seem to matter much. The problem however, is that this is under the assumption that every single F-35 produced will be deployed against China which is not true because the US has to manage multiple theaters (Russia-Europe, Home Air Bases etc.).

Also, the F-35 is a multi national project, so those 15 F-35s being made every month have to shared between 12 Airforces, 1 Marine Corp and 2 Navies across the planet. Further reducing the number of stealth fighters the US can deploy against China.


Stealth Fighters

The Stealth fighter question is actually pretty interesting and I kinda wanna build on that from what we discussed in the production line section discussed above.

First, given the limited peak production rate and distribution of F-35s among multiple partners, we might only see limited numbers deployed in the Chinese theater. But every stealth fighter the Chinese develop will be available to fight in the first Island chain theater.

The Chinese have some advanced fighters like the J-20 and J-31 which seem pretty advanced but their level of production is not close to what the US has for it’s stealth fighters at the moment. So they do lag in that respect. The US is also superior in the electronics and engines that go into their stealth aircraft although this is a gap that might close in the near future.

However, the US lead in stealth has some major problems that should be addressed. The problem is the basing of these stealth fighters. The US has 6 major bases in Japan and 1 in Guam. The USAF does not use the 80–90 airbases that the Japanese air force uses, and this might be because of how the US wants to control access to it’s stealth fighters but also because it has to equip its bases with perform the complex maintenance that it’s stealth fighters require.

So in theory, there’s only 7 total major bases you can place your stealth fighters at where you can control access to them and also do the whole fancy maintenance they require like re-applying coating etc.

That is…not good, because it means the Chinese don’t have to worry about shooting down these stealth fighters. They just need to concentrate their ballistic missile bombardment on those 7 bases with stealth fighters to knock those bases out or at least interdict operations out of them.

The USAF has realized this problem and are trying to see if they can spread the fighters out a bit more to the 90 bases the Japanese operate but it’s still a work in progress.

There is one other thing: There’s something called the “German Disease” where you get trapped in the idea that as long as you make a VERY high quality platform, it’s gonna be worth 10 of the enemy’s platforms and that’s better than matching the enemy head to head. This is very seductive thinking for a wealthier, more technically advanced power. But it means you are fighting a war with platforms you aren’t willing to lose which is not a good proposition.

The F-22 is a bit of a German Disease for the USAF because there’s only like 170 of them left and they aren’t making any more of them. Each F-22 lost is a permanent loss for the USAF and if a war against China drags on and attrition becomes a factor, a lot of these very high quality assets that the USAF isn’t willing to lose will need to be pulled from the theater after a while once their losses reach 33% per squadron. Now, no one has ever fought the US in a conventional war since Vietnam and managed to drag it out.

But if that does happen, and the US is losing say 2 F-22s a day on average from ballistic missile strikes on bases, losses due to accidents, very rare occasions when an F-22 is show down by the Chinese, this kind of loss rate might start to hurt a month into the conflict. And the USAF would have to withdraw the F-22s at some point so they still have some left in reserve and put the 4.5+ Gens into the missions the F-22s were doing. Very rare a war would last that long with China and for that high a loss rate, but you never know. The F-22s would primarily suffer more from being forced away from their 7 bases in the first island chain and being forced to operate at their max ranges from second island chain bases, but the loss rate from conflict as well in a long war cant be ignored.


Land

Apart from the strategic support force and the mobile missile systems, Land is pretty irrelevant. Invading China by land is delusional and nearly all serious US military experts have ruled it out. So the PLA and its size and it’s equipment and their comparison with the US Army are really irrelevant to this conversation.


Military Re-Organization

Similar to how the US is re-organizing their Space Force as a separate force apart from the USAF, the Chinese have broken the power of the PLA on military planning and production and reformed it into 5 Joint Commands or Theater commands.

They have to figure out how these theater commands work, something the US already has figured out.

But more importantly, the PLAF, the PLAN and the Strategic Support Force (formerly known as the Strategic Rocket Force) have become more prominent in operation planning.

I should mention that the Strategic Rocket Force of China has no equivalent in the US so they have that going for them. I mentioned before how the force is designed to nullify the USAF advantage in air dominance but that would be selling it short since they also have mission capabilities in EW, Cyber, Space and Information Warfare.

All of these missions falling under one, separate armed force definitely increases the organizational and operational efficiency (same as how the US made a separate Space Force to fully allow it to develop as a proper capability). I think they have a 4 star general leading this force and if you have all of this capability in one organization as a separate force away from PLAN, PLAF and the PLA, its definitely a more modern force structure similar to the US.

And of course, the reorganization of the PLA into 5 Theater commands is a good step as noted before but the PRC military arms need to up their joint operations capability to take advantage of this military organization.

Also a good point to mention here is that the US Space force is very newly created and even they have to work out the kinks in how to have this force integrate with the rest of the US military capability, particularly Cyber. So it’s not just China that has to figure out it’s military re-organization.


Operational Capability

The PRC has enough capability right now to contest much of the first Island chain, deal damage in the second island chain and even maybe reach the US homeland (Hawaii) via submarine mines, long range cruise missiles or ‘missiles in a box’ (The Russian concept of using commercial container ships loaded with missiles). But the idea of reaching Hawaii is not taken very seriously because the survivability of these assets against a alert USN and USAF is next to zero.

So the First Island Chain is where the bulk of the Chinese military potency will be concentrated.

Since the US has allied bases in the region and near global capability to project power, it’s assumed that they can reach any part of China they want as long as their military assets can survive their journey to their targets. But for the most part, the US military will also be focused on establishing control over the first island chain.


The Carrier Question and Scenario Planning

The USN Carriers figure prominently into the US military equation and China is no different. The problem is that the capabilities developed by the Chinese have boxed the carriers out of the first Island chain and the question is as they get pushed further and further away, how effective would they be in a war against China? There’s already a hit implied to the range of the F-35 if it has to fly from the second island chain to the engage in combat in the first island chain (or the Chinese mainland).

Currently, the carrier programs are baked deep into the USN and American military economy. Even if the US stopped building carriers today after the Miller and Ford class programs were completed, they would still have 7 carriers by 2045 and 4 by 2070.

But Large surface combatants will be prime targets in any war with China. And herein lies a big problem facing the US military vs the Chinese:

First: The US military is carrying over programs started before the Chinese even began to be considered a threat (some of these from the 80s and 90s). These programs are starting to deliver assets that would have limited if any use against the Chinese military of today. What good is the B-21 Raider going to do against China? The carrier programs already begun will not have to continue to their logical conclusion since so much money has been spent designing and producing the first entries that it’s a tremendous loss if you cancel them now. The F-35s were initially thought up of in the 80s and 90s as short ranged fighters to dominate the European battlefield in a conflict against the USSR/Russia. Are we sure they will have the operational capability to deliver effective missions in the China theater?

The Chinese however, have a blank slate. They saw the capabilities of the US military in the 90s and had a fresh start in thinking about how to design their military to beat the US military specifically without their production lines and budgets tied up for programs that weren’t specific to the US.

Second: The US must fight and win wars all across the planet. Whether it’s the Russians invading the Baltics, ISIS in the middle east, Iran with a nuclear program, African Islamist groups or what not. The Chinese only have to win in the South China Sea/The First Island Chain. This is something I see Patrick Dugan has also pointed out in the answers on this thread.

The US is spending 700–800 billion dollars a year for all the scenarios they have in their operational planning. The Chinese are spending maybe 200 billion USD for the one fight in the first island chain. In terms of budgetary comparisons, the disparity might not be as big as one might initially think.

This is causing problems to the US because currently, military tech is going through something called the “revolution of many” where a lot of countries are wondering why you cant have smaller, cheaper platforms armed with munitions thrown at your enemies in a way that would overwhelm large platforms like carriers and so on.

To the US’s defense, there are limits to what you can do with such swarms in the deep waters of the Pacific and carriers can be used in a way that complements your own swarm or even serve as the platform for it. But in the first island chain, near the Chinese seaboard, these smaller, cheaper, mobile armed small platforms will be at their most effective. And the USN has no equivalent to this.

The USN as mentioned before is baked into the carrier strategy and armament program which is not in line with the kind of conflict expectation there is in the first island chain.

And this is brings us to the idea that having better systems than your enemy is great, you have F-18s, F-22s, Carriers, JDAMs and M1Abrams and all that cool jazz. But within the specific operational theater of the first island chain in a war with China, how well will your platforms perform? The US military hardware and their doctrines have carry over legacies from the US military introspection of the 1970s after witnessing the shocking levels of fast paced, mechanized, high casualty rate action of the Yom Kippur war. A lot of the current US military systems of today like the M1 Abrams, the F-16s, F-15s, F-22s were developed as a part of how the US understood a war with USSR would be conducted after the Yom Kippur war lessons were understood (the war would be fast, rapid and there might not be enough time for the US military to bring it’s superior production to bear across from the Atlantic).

To the US’s defense again, when this hardware was deployed in the first Gulf War, it performed well and gave the US military a good confidence boost that their current platforms and strategies would apply well across the globe. But the South China sea might be a different ball game. US Air power might be greatly interdicted not by air defenses but by ballistic missile strikes on their airbases. Carriers might not have free reign of the waters in the theater. The US has superiority in underwater platforms but what good are they if PLAN just pulls back close to the shore and doesn’t send out surface combatants against the USN that would allow for their targeting by USN subs.


3rd Offset

The above discussion about carriers was meant to segue way into the US military’s emerging strategy of 3rd Offset.

In a nutshell, the strategy pushes for the idea that instead of going directly at your enemy in a fight, you use an offset. What this strategy means from a military equipment POV is that instead of sending an F-22 or a fully manned sub to engage the Chinese military, the F-22 sends it’s ‘Loyal Wingman’ AI driven UCAV at the PLAAF and the USN sends an unmanned underwater platform to engage the PLAN.

Basically, the US military is also trying to fight China in an asymmetric fashion the same way the Chinese are trying to fight the US military with their own asymmetric techniques. So missiles vs ships rather than ship to ship combat. Drones vs planes rather than air to air manned combat.

Speaking to the USN specifically, what the US navy planners want to do is that for 25% of the price of a US navy carrier and it’s air wing, you could instead have nearly 2000 missiles spread across 40 containerized missile ships. The good thing about these ships also is, is that they are replaceable unlike a carrier. You can make and deploy more with more missiles as the war drags on and losses mount.

So instead of having a carrier being boxed out of the South China sea due to the Chinese missile threat, whose air wing has limited utility due to it carrying mostly short ranged (albeit capable) fighters: Instead have 40 ships with 2000 missiles that have the range for you to safely engage targets in the South China Sea without worrying too much about the Chinese strategic support force and it’s ballistic missiles.

Now, it might seem like I’m laying the blame for all of this carrier fixation on the US military planners. I’m not. I’m laying the blame on Congress.

Opinion | Congress’ demands for supercarriers are sinking the Navy

You see, the USN has no issue with scaling back on their carriers from maybe 12 super carriers to a smaller number like 6 if it means that would give them the fiscal and budgetary space to develop smaller platforms that can operate in swarms in the first island chain and bear acceptable losses.

The problem is that congressmen block this because the USN carriers are intimately tied to the wellbeing of certain congressional districts. A single USN carrier means 10,000 jobs in a USN port because of all the economic activity around the crew members, their families, the facilities they require like sports facilities etc.

The US navy’s manufacturing facilities for carriers are all inland (North Carolina, South Carolina, Pittsburgh, Colorado). That’s where all the major manufacturing plants are that make these super carriers. No congressman or woman is gonna sign off on closing off not just these inland jobs but the port jobs as well.


Which cycles us back to the following problems for the US military:

  1. They can’t seem to get too much of their funding away from legacy systems that may not perform well in the China theater because those legacy systems are tied to certain congressional district economies.
  2. This means the US military can’t fully capitalize on the “Revolution of Many” and the increasing shift towards autonomous combat platforms that operate in swarms and have a high tolerance for losses, they way they have laid out in their 3rd Offset strategy. I mean they will eventually with enough funding, it’s just that the Chinese are moving faster and the US military might not have an edge over the Chinese in the China specific theater in the near future.

The thing is, the US has built up their military for Global operations and expect it to perform in every single theater on the planet whether it’s Africa or Europe or the Gulf or the South China Sea.

The US military would benefit a lot of someone said “Hey lets take our worse case scenarios, conflicts with near peer adversaries like Russia and China. We plan two operational scenarios for each. And we build our military around that. And maybe leave out these other missions or hope our military can perform there with whatever assets it has built from the 2 core scenarios”.

This isn’t the best idea, I know, because the 40 container missile ships built to fight in the south china sea while bearing fire from Chinese ballistic missiles might not have much use in Africa or the Gulf where you might need a carrier or helicopter ship or amphibious warfare ships.

And so the US military has a limited budget it must use to fulfill the gap everywhere. But the Chinese only have to build and train for the one scenario they plan to face.

The US has begun the third offset but because they must split their budget between what goes into third offset and what goes into legacy systems, the Chinese capability to respond to the third offset in a meaningful manner is pretty significant.


3rd Offset and the threat to it from Chinese EW

It’s interesting to see how the Chinese EW capability can interfere with 3rd Offset.

The Chinese strategic support force has actual EW troop formations which the US has no equivalent to. So they have deployed EW capability that can seriously interfere with the operations of all the unmanned vehicles the US plans to have as the tip of their spear into the first island chain. The US has no EW troops and if you don’t have that, no matter how good your tech is, you don’t have any effective formations capable of delivering the product to the battlefield. The US really needs to have dedicated EW troop formations IMO to meet the threat from Chinese EW to their 3rd Offset Autonomous platforms.

But, I’m gonna go against this point as well: The Russian EW capability in the recent Azerbaijan-Armenia war showed how they could deploy EW to interfere with remote controlled drones. Autonomous drones are more resistant to EW interference because they are GPS independent. So these drones with their own sensors and AI don’t really need to have a dedicated signal link the way a remote controlled drone works and can operate in a heavy EW environment.

I’m just curious on how willing the US would be to unleash AI controlled drones with no over rides from a human operator in the South China sea during a war with China.


To conclude, I think the US military has major advantages still. They have better quality sensors and electronics, better materials and fabrication. Their ability to fuse data from different sources into meaningful insights for AI and operations is better.

But I think once we move past the point of simply comparing the F-22 with the J-20, and look at it from a high at how both militaries are posturing themselves for a future conflict, it seems like the gap is not as big as I thought it would be. The US has an edge but an eroding one.

And it’s mostly a problem of the US’s own making where they have boxed in the US military into legacy platforms that were thought up of in the 80s and 90s and are baked into the US military-political complex of congressional spending. While the Chinese have started from a blank slate and have specifically designed solutions around a conflict in the 1st Island Chain compared to the US which has spread itself out.

I think as it stands, the US might still prevail in the next couple of years should a conflict break out. They might prevail even a few years after that if they are willing to shoulder the losses. But the Chinese are moving in a rapid, focused manner and war is a very unpredictable exercise. And the US’s hamstringing of their own military’s evolution might cost them in the future.


Academic Sources: Col. Thomas Hammes, Michael Kofman.

GLEEFULLAND Dystopian film

I was in sales and almost got fired for having too high a gross profit! I was at a stereo chain that opened a new store and because I was the most knowledgeable in the stereo area I was sent over for two or three weeks to set up the audio department. After the store opening (I made the first sale when we opened, a pair of car speakers) and working in the new store for a few months, I was called in by the manager and learned my gross profit was too high. I said, “What?” how is that a problem? This store had loss leaders that had very small profit that were advertised and they thought I was refusing customers or trying too hard to “step” them up to a higher priced product and pissing them off.

I made three points that saved my job: I reminded them that I was very good with stereo equipment, knew what EVERY single button did on EVERY product and I proved it by letting them test me, I was very good at letting customers know why they should buy better equipment and that is why I had few of the “basic” equipment in my sales. I also reminded them that I was the guy who set the audio department up, showing I had the skills to sell better equipment. Number two: I asked them how I could be number 1 or 2 every month in sales if I was “blowing people off”? How could I have done that every month? (They went away, checked, came back and started to come around.)

The manager was starting to have faith in me but still had to deal with my numbers and corporate and how could he get them to back off. Number 3: I remembered a few customers who would come in and buy cheap blank tapes that were low profit and no one wanted to help them. I had everyone send them to me in the future. Within a few months my numbers lowered just enough to get the big guys off our backs.

Isn’t that one of the stupidest things you ever heard? Almost getting fired for being too good a salesman!

Elections have consequences

Years ago, as a police officer in small town Wisconsin, I was checking business doorknobs at night. Walked up to the one and only funeral home, turned the knob….open! Damn! Summoned my partner (checking across the street) and in we go…..

No idea where the light switches were and our plan was to step in, turn around and leave…….indeed, we had requisitely “checked” the place. Right? Nope. We turned to leave just as we heard a crashing sound behind us. Playing our flashlight about, we found the business cash box laying on the floor in the office. Just then, we heard sound coming from downstairs…..where the casket showroom and embalming room (behind closed doors) were to be found.

Huddled together, my partner and I descended the stairs only to have our flashlights show a casket lid close across the room! We hatched a plan whereby I would stand behind the casket, reach over it, pull it open and my partner —- standing in front of it —- would then arrest the purported cashbox thief. Nervous as we both could be in the darkened room, I pulled open the lid and the perp leaped out of the casket like a jack-in-the-box! Partner dropped his flashlight and revolver and the casket occupant blew by me, up the stairs, out the door —— never to caught!

Needless to write, much more circumspect checking there, again!

So Funny (All gone?)

Remember Justin Trudeau? He was thrown under the bus by Trump once Trump got what he wanted. Now, How Jimmy Lai’s value as an asset is compared to Trudeau? Let’s check it out.

Trudeau is a Head of State, Lai is not. Trudeau is white, Lai is yellow. In the US’s playbook, Lai isn’t even at the level that makes him fit to shine Trudeau’s shoes.

Trudeau maybe not a patriot but certainly, he is no traitor. Lai is a traitor who did not hesitate to collude with a foreign power to go against his own country and people. Traitors are garbage nobody wants anything to do with once their mission objective value is no longer there.

So basically, Jimmy Lai is only a leftover from the shit that failed to hit the fan in Hong Kong. A shit stain to be precise. Nobody would pick up a shit stain, but flush it down the toilet hole.

If Jimmy Lai’s last resort is for the US to come to his rescue, oh he is fucked.

Vitamin D

Me.

I was working for a Fortune 500 company as a sales rep, making my quota every year, except my first, for 10 years. A new management team comes in. The new National Sales Manager, Mr. Smith, was unhappy with my image. I was 40, obese and had prematurely grey hair. He liked ‘young, lean and hungry’. Well, I’m good at hungry.

In February the company has its sales meeting. They fly us all into the little airport nearest corporate headquarters, in New England. Itinerary promises luxury hotel, 2 days of training with an awards dinner for all the quota busters (about 90 of 170 of us).

Mr. Smith meets me at the airport, asks for my customer list and price book. Then he hands me a return ticket, through a circuitous route home (it might have been cheaper) that leaves at 5pm, he says this at 7:30am. I got home at 11 pm, I could’ve driven home in 8–9 hours.

As he hands me the ticket he says,”It’s non-changeable, non-refundable. At least for the next 9 hours I’ll know where you are.” I did not call in very often, unless my clients had an issue, or an opportunity. When I did I spoke to customer service and we would resolve almost all of issues without involving higher ups. I should’ve been tooting my own horn, getting Mr. Smith involved seemed senseless. I thought the numbers would speak for me.

Sitting in the airport I decided to start my own business, independent sales representative. Took 6 months to get clients, training and start making sales on straight commission. Took 3 years to get my income above poverty level, my supportive wife sustained us. Then I started making twice the income. Never looked back. Next to marrying my wife, probably the best thing that happened to me. Definitely top 5.

FORGOTTEN CITY – 1966 Retro Pulp Science Fiction by Skyward, Photo Booth Processing, 110/35mm Film

This is fun.

Depends on your time line. Eventually, and I’m talking 2047 territory something would have been put in place. But lets time travel back to 2010. I say 2010 because the seeds of the riot were after the Pan Dems refused the changes in the voting system that would allow more direct elections.

Wong Sing Chi – Nelson Wong the Pan Dem founder was kicked out because he wanted compromise. The first riots started in 2014 and were a test to see what would happen. The not very much happening meant the bigger 2019 riots happened.

Article 23 was impossible to put into place due to protests against it, strong unions and lots of LegCO seats opposing it. You had well still have two factions, yellows anti government everything and blues. The thing is the blues weren’t rubber stampers. They were mostly meh and wanted things to stay the same.

You can literally see prominent blues actually support the anti extradition protests that were initially at the start of 2019 before the violence ramped up. Many of the blues would go no way that goes too far!

Raam Beart, Nury Vitachi pretty much have this angle. There wasn’t the support for anything NSL or article 23 at all.

But then the Yellows went nuts. Wide spread violence, dehumanisation and discrimination against anybody who opposed the yellows.

This pushed the previously meh blues to give support to the government to end the madness. I mean shit you were on the bus in 2019 going into town. You’d see everything smashed up and Chinese people here were attacked by them. I was attacked, numerous quorans who I know are real people were attacked.

So the riots going violent suddenly gave a support base for NSL and eventually article 23.

Article 23. My personal feeling? Is that I wish we could go back to life in 2017 or so. I guess I’m old. I don’t like change. I still use cash! Even in Shenzhen. Anyway where’s the shit posting? Ah yes this. Article 23 penalties. Do note these are the absolute maximum possible. We’ve of course seen in Hong Kong that maximum sentences are very rarely given. Very recently a Hong Kong bomb maker was sentenced to just under 6 years. Funny… had he not run off to Shenzhen he would be out in 2025 probably. Yet again where’s the shit posting? This The sentences for this were far harsher. Looking into it. 60% of 1309 arrested and charged to-date have received custodial sentences. Enrique Tarrio (sp?) 22 years. Edthan Nordean – 18 years. Stuart Rhodes – 18 years Zach Rehl 15 years Dan Rodriguez 12 years

Some of us discuss it here and in the comments. That we wished things had stayed the same but the riots pushed us into this direction.

Here’s the ultimate irony.

If the yellows sat on their hands and went home after May 2019 the last of the mostly peaceful protests when the extradition treaty law was shelved…

The yellows would have won a majority in LegCo in the 2020 elections.

NSL would never have been implemented

Article 23 would still just be something talked about on RTHK and nothing would have changed.

Protectionism

Plain and Simple

In 2015 – the EU Players – Volkswagen, Mercedes, BMW, Audi, Citroen together combined had a market share of

  • 40.28% in China
  • 29.76% across the World

Life was good

For every Volkswagen sold – China made around $ 18 for every $ 82 that Germany ultimately earned

China got only assembly cost and low grade supplies and equipment

The Chinese brands had a market share of 15.70% in China and 2.33% across the World

India at 3.25% had a higher Global Share

Guess how much the Auto Industry and Ancillary Industry for Autos contribute to the European Economy?

Almost 4%

Thats nearly $ 800 Billion

Including $ 279 Billion in Germany Alone

In 2023 – the EU Players – Volkswagen, Mercedes, BMW, Audi, Citroen together combined had a market share of

  • 18.73% in the Chinese market with only BMW continuing the same market share and VW falling by 38% from 2015, Mercedes by 27% and Citroen by 82%
  • 26.62% in the Global Market

That’s a huge fall of nearly 55% in China and barely keeping their old market share for 8 years

Now their European Sales are crashing

The Chinese products have superior design, superior quality and affordable price being almost 20% cheaper on road

In the last four months of 2023 – European Brands saw a sales drop of 21.5% while Chinese Brands saw a surge of 67.6% in their numbers

Take out the Russian market and the numbers still show a 8.1% drop for European Brands and 26.1% gain for Chinese Brands


Solution?

It’s simple protectionism

Plain and simple


Paying High Prices for Russian Gas

That’s because if Europe keeps relying on Russian Gas, the day Russia cuts off Gas suddenly , Germany could be screwed as could the rest of Europe

Once Russia went to ‘Dangerous Enemy’, decoupling was a security move even at higher expense to the economy

A Better move would have been peace and diversification but Europeans don’t have brains unfortunately

Mar 14, 2024

AUKUS has become a stillborn project.

Vassal states, satellites – in other words the butlers of international relations, the minders of the royal stool – are a rarely respected lot. In Australia’s case, being Washington’s butler is hardly like being Jeeves to Bertie Wooster. Jeeves is, after all, a near omniscient being, a confidant who rescues his master from ridiculous situations and offers sound advice to avoid them.

The Canberra wonks, bureaucrats and politicians are in no equivalent position, weak, impotent, and ever reliant on the good grace of the US Congress, the US President and the entire military complex that pillows them.

The latest announcement about delays and dysfunction in the US submarine base should further confirm that the AUKUS security agreement is risky, costly and self-defeating. The security pact, which is primarily focused on technological transfer and the provision of nuclear-powered submarines to Australia, is proving, yet again, to be a shaky affair.

The developments are hardly surprising.

US shipyards are simply not keeping up with the production line. Roping in the Australian taxpayer into this mess means that money will be going to funding a foreign defence force without any guarantee of the submarines promised to Canberra. Superb if you are working in the Pentagon, disastrous if you are an Australian policy maker.

The latest Fiscal Year 2025 budget request from the US Department of Defence has again shown an industry in stuttering health. The US Navy’s intention to cut a submarine already paid for and built featured prominently in the plans. The implication for this, and AUKUS, is that the number of submarines relevant to the pact will be halved.

Congressman Joe Courtney, ranking Democrat member of the House Seapower and Project Forces Subcommittee, was far from impressed, saying as much in a released statement.

“If such a cut is actually enacted it will remove one more attack submarine from a fleet that is already 17 submarines below the Navy’s long stated requirement of 66.”

This measure would place the commitment made by the Pentagon and Congress to furnish three submarines to the Royal Australian Navy in doubt.

“This deviation from last year’s projected Future Years Defence Program (FYDP) contradicts the Department’s own National Defence Industries Strategy issued on January 11, 2024, which identified ‘procurement stability’ as critical to achieve resilient supply chains.”

In January, Courtney, along with the Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee Mike Rogers, Chairman of the Seapower and Projection Forces Subcommittee Trent Kelly, and ranking member of the House Armed Services Committee Adam Smith, wrote to President Joe Biden arguing

“that the US Navy and Congress maintain continued procurement of two Virginia-class submarines per year, as detailed in the Navy’s FY2024 30-Year Shipbuilding Plan.”

The Congressmen had no reason to doubt such a rate of procurement, given the investments from the Navy and Congress

“in workforce and supply development over the last five years.” It was “imperative to maintain a steady two-per-year procurement rate to assure our partners in our ability to meet commitments and address concerns about our nation’s undersea capabilities.”

The obsession with the two-submarine annual procurement rate, assessed at 2.33, has been a lingering one with Congress, but there is much to suggest that Courtney and his colleagues had been engaged in an act of wishful thinking. Mississippi Senator Roger Wicker, for instance, found the production rate to be a warranted one in a July 16, 2023 contribution to the Wall Street Journal, but worried about how this would work within the context of AUKUS arrangements.

“As it stands, the AUKUS plan would transfer US Virginia-class submarines to a partner nation even before we have met our own Navy’s requirements.”

This is also not helped by the US Navy’s ongoing plans to design and develop 12 new SSBNs of the Columbia (SSBN-826) Class to replace the current, aging fleet of 14 Ohio-class SSBNs. A report from the Congressional Research Service published in January notes the Navy’s revised procurement rate of 2.33 Virginia-class submarines plus one Colombia-class boat, something Courtney might have heeded.

In December 2022, Democratic Senator Jack Reed and an outgoing Republican Senator James Inhofe authored a letter to Biden expressing their worries

“about the state of the US submarine industrial base as well as its ability to support the desired AUKUS SSN [nuclear sub] end state.” Current conditions, the senators went on to describe, required “a sober assessment of the facts to avoid stressing the US submarine industrial base to the breaking point.”

Sobriety, it would seem, has come biting in stinging fashion.

A deluded, crippling subservience is to be found everywhere. Australia’s Defence Minister, Richard Marles, should be hysterical with concern, his increasingly coloured skin turning pallid. Instead, he is trying to keep a brave face by foolishly claiming to speak for all powers in the trilateral alliance.

“As we approach the one-year anniversary of AUKUS, Australia, the United States and United Kingdom remain steadfast in our commitment to the pathway announced last March, which will see Australia acquire conventionally armed, nuclear-powered submarines.”

Such ill-informed confidence also pervades the Alice in Aukusland mentality, marked by such punditry as that of retired submarine specialist Peter Briggs. Australia, suggests Briggs, should seize the day on submarine construction in taking “an active role in the design and procurement process” for the SSN. But control can only be exerted with a degree of power and experience in the field of nuclear propulsion, something the Australian Navy has little to no experience in.

Former Liberal Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull prefers a bleaker analysis .

“The reality is the Americans are not going to make their submarine deficit worse than it is already by giving or selling submarines to Australia and the AUKUS legislation actually sets that out specifically.”

Australia had been “mugged by reality”, its sovereignty surrendered, its fate left like a cork bobbing at sea.

Whoever occupies the White House or Congress, the America First mantra prevails: first, Washington’s interests, marked by its own weaknesses and troubles; then, should they matter, those of allies, however loyal and ingratiating.

AUKUS has become a stillborn project.

Join US you’ll be on its dinnertable, join China you’ll have a win-win

Blinken is crass. Period. His behaviour is not worthy of that of a diplomat.

Damn you’ve found us out…

It’s time for the truth to be revealed.

I am not in fact the blonde girl in the picture.

I am a highly advanced AI program sent to Quora to find and answer questions about China that only paints the great homeland in a positive light. Forever may the glory of the People’s Republic of China shine like a beacon on —

Oh WAIT

They don’t need an artificial intelligence to do that. Anyone with normal intelligence could tell you that China kicks ass.

How China kicks ass:

Look, no country is perfect and China has its own issues it needs to deal with. But don’t worry about China or the fact that informed people have an increasingly positive opinion of the country.

Work on improving your own country, then people might write nice things about you as well.

I was sitting in my very first Computer Science class at Princeton. My Professor, Brian Kernighan (who is a brilliant and exciting teacher, even for non-CS students like myself), had pulled up an image of Eric Schmidt on the projector screen.

At this point in time, Eric Schmidt was the CEO of Google, although his fame was nowhere near what it is today. I remember Professor Kernighan saying that Eric Schmidt was likely someone that none of us had ever heard of, but was filling a role that would greatly affect each and every one of our lives. I can’t recall exactly what he said, but the gist was that while computer science may not be a very glorious subject, it has profound implications on our lives. Remember, this was Intro to CS. He was trying to hook us on to the subject; to convince us that we shouldn’t all try to be Econ majors and land jobs on Wall Street. Each point he made revolved around Eric Schmidt, whose image remained front and center.

Anyways, after about five or ten minutes of describing Computer Science through the lens of Eric Schmidt, a hand was raised in the middle of the classroom.

“So, this is kind of awkward, but are you done talking about my dad?”

Eric Schmidt’s daughter had been sitting there quietly the whole time. The room erupted in laughter, as Prof. Kernighan apologized profusely. He had no idea that the daughter of the subject of his lecture was in the classroom.

She ended up being in a Creative Writing class of mine as well; a very impressive girl at the time, and I’m sure a much more impressive woman now.

First video is a teleportation. I discussed this previously in great detail.

Groceries and smoke

When I was a young boy… perhaps four or five years old, there was a fire in the complex where we lived. We lived in a complex of homes, perhaps row homes in groups of four multi-dwellings.

And one of them was on fire. We, my friends and I, watched the firemen come and put the fire out, and there we surreptitiously entered through the basement into the smouldering wet burnt ruin until chased off.

As We left the scene, the owner of the house arrive. She was carrying  a bag of groceries, and I will never forget the expression on her face. Surprise, shock and then realization that it was HER house that was burnt to nothing.

That expression… well, it remains to me this day. I will never forget it. For her entire life is now different. And her life is right now, upside-down.

Poor lady.

That happens. That realization. That knowing that a “light switch” has flipped, and what you once had is now GONE.

Smart people make precautions to prevent that switch from flipping.  From personal safety; to relationships, to governments. We do what we need to do.

But still…

Today…

 

When I was in high school I had a part time job in a local chain supermarket store. Did the usual, stocking shelves, helping in the butcher shop, cleaning floors, and bag boy. The store began running a promotional, for every $100 in receipts you could get a free dish in a set of “fine” china. Kind of silly really, the reality was that most people were never going to accumulate enough receipts for a place setting, let alone an entire set. But in my tenure as bag boy I noticed several things, 1. People often just put the receipt in the trash can on the way out. 2. They often told the cashier they did not want the receipt, and she put it in the trash can under the register 3. If I was helping people, especially the older ladies, take the groceries to their car and asked them for their receipts, explaining I was trying to get me ma a set of dishes, they willingly gave them to me. So I became the most willing volunteer to bag groceries, the most diligent emptier of trash cans, and the most solicitous helper to people who needed assistance getting groceries to their car. A week before the promotion ended I presented thousands of dollars in receipts to me ma and explained what she had to do, omitting to the store, of course, that she had any relatives employed there. That is how we got the “fine”china still used by me ma to this day. Complete with soup tureen and gravy boat. And the highly sought after “Giant Serving Platter”.

Ukraine Drones?

Nope. American controlled drones in Ukraine. And then pay attention to who is working them.

Real? Fake? But, certainly plausible.

Slovakia Prime Minister . . .”Lie Doomed on our Balcony . . . waiting for World Apocalypse”

"All We Can Do is Lie Doomed On The Balcony With A Cognac And A Cigar, Waiting For The World Apocalypse” 

Slovak Prime Minister Fico: “The West sees that, despite significant assistance, despite anti-Russian sanctions, Ukraine is simply not capable of winning. And if we send military personnel from the EU and NATO to Ukraine, all we can do is lie doomed on the balcony with cognac and a cigar, waiting for the world apocalypse.”

Hal Turner Analysis

The fact that the Prime Minister of Slovakia said these words Sunday evening is proof that the “idea” of French President Macron, for NATO member countries to send their troops into Ukraine under “Bi-lateral Security Agreements” was far more than just bluster or posturing.  Clearly, the suggestion of the French President is under active consideration.

Were it anything else, there would be no reason for the Prime Minister to make such a statement.

The world is moving faster and faster toward an actual nuclear conflict with Russia.

The general public in Europe and the United States remain blissfully unaware because the mass media has utterly failed in its job to report the serious and world-changing events developing in Ukraine.

I have done, and continue to do, my best, to keep you informed of the important developments overseas.

These comments by the Prime Minister of Slovakia cannot be taken lightly –  at all.

The USA is sinking gravely

This is a profoundly bad idea.

Let’s say that your little plan works just about as well as you could hope for. You become a guard, and you’re assigned to your boyfriend’s unit…

Have you noticed how dirty the floor is in the CO’s break room? Maybe you should get your boyfriend to mop it. You better supervise him to make sure he does a good job…

Ah… alone at last. Finally, after all this time you can have some hurried sex. Sounds pretty fun right?

It better be, because in most places a guard having sex with an inmate is considered rape (you would be raping him). You can argue until you’re nine shades of blue that it was consensual, but during your training program you signed a document stating that you understood that sex with inmates was rape.

Maybe you think nobody will notice?

Your fellow lives in a big room with at least a hundred other men who have NOTHING to do. Nothing. They WILL notice. I was once told how many minutes I’d just spent in the bathroom…

Did I mention these guys have nothing to do?

Maybe you think they won’t care?

Come on now… you know how most guys are when it comes to sex. Do you really think they’ll just give your boyfriend appreciative nods and attaboys?

Yeah. No. They’ll want the same treatment, or maybe they’ll just want you to smuggle in some pot—“just a little.” If you refuse, they’ll have enough documentation to bring a storm your way.

Maybe you think that smuggling a handful of marijuana to needy inmates is no big deal? OK… now you’re up to two felonies already, and you’ve got to keep the pot coming…

“Know what would really be fly? If we had some heroin up in dis bitch.”

This is a hole that digs itself. All you need to do is get a job in that prison, and you’re never going to get out without becoming an inmate yourself.

A miracle

Evening college class, met 2X a week. 1st class- homework- find a magazine article about a govt. action, write one page about it. Did not have any magazine subscriptions, so stopped by library, found story about Sen. McCarthy. Next night, teacher chewed me out for picking that article. What could I POSSIBLY know about Sen. McCarthy? I was too young. And kept on for 5 minutes in a vicious tone.

Stood up, said “Know what? You’re right. I am young- may not know a lot- but I know something you don’t.” “Really? What’s THAT?”

“First, I don’t need this class this semester. Second- you are adjunct (part time) faculty. For your class to continue, you need 10 students enrolled. I count 9 others here. I’m dropping your class. The other students will be assigned to other teachers. You are a jerk- and you are also unemployed. Have a good day.”

Walked out, stopped at office, dropped class. Took it next semester- different teacher.

Russia Destroyed US Army Officers Along With HIMARS MLRS In NIKANOROVKA

Absolutely

Chinas Defence Budget stands at 1.68 Trillion RMB for the year 2024

That’s $ 234 Billion

However you need to understand that $ 234 Billion in China is different from $ 234 Billion in USA

In the US , the average mark up from production to final sale to the Army or Pentagon is between 113% to 355%

That means a missile that costs $ 100,000 to produce sells for $ 213,000 to the Pentagon

In China, the average mark up from production to final sale to the PLA is a mere 26% -37% as everything is State Owned or a Joint Venture with State Ownership of around 35% – 45%

This means a missile that costs $ 100,000 to produce is sold for $ 126,000 to the PLA

Except that it costs $ 40,000 to produce a missile in China and so $ 50,400 to sell a single Missile to the PLA

So you can have FOUR MISSILES with the same range and the same launch capacity delivered to the PLA for ONE MISSILE delivered to the Pentagon

This means the $ 234 Billion in China has a far higher buying power of equipment in China than $ 234 Billion has for the Pentagon

So effectively Chinas Defence Budget is equivalent to at least 2.5 times and probably 3.5 times the Pentagon budget to procure it’s equipment

The PLA has estimated 492 Billion RMB for Weapons Procurement for 2024

That’s $ 70 Billion

However that’s the equivalent of $ 175 Billion to $ 245 Billion of the Pentagon

The Pentagon has estimated $ 290 Billion for weapon procurement in 2024

So you can see that China with its main scope being the South China Sea, Sea of Japan and Himalayas and Indian Ocean spends almost 84% of what US with its main scope being all over the world spends

So initially you see $ 70 Billion and $ 290 Billion and say “Oh. China is only spending a fourth of what US is spending”

Yet a closer look suggests China is spending almost $ 175–245 Billion versus $ 290 Billion that the US is spending

Dividing evenly between the battle zones – China has four – South China Sea, Himalayas, Indian Ocean and Sea of Japan

US has nine – Pacific, Middle East, South China Sea, Sea of Japan, Atlantic, Europe, South America, Horn of Africa and Oceania

So China spends $ 175–245 Billion for 4 Battle Zones while US spends $ 290 Billion for 9 Battle Zones (290/9 = $ 32 Billion each)

You do the math

It means China likely could outspend US 5:1 in the South China Sea


Same for Russia

Everyone looked at $ 81 Billion at laughed

Yet that $ 81 Billion includes $ 50.7 Billion of Equipment and Weapons Procurement which is the equivalent of $ 90 Billion for the Pentagon

Assuming only three Battle Zones – Europe, Black Sea and Arctic – that’s $ 30 Billion per Battle Zone which is very close to the $ 32 Billion that US spends on weapons and equipment for each zone

So US and Russia are actually neck to neck in defence expenditure on Weapons and Equipment as far as Europe is concerned


So Chinas budget of $ 234 Billion is closer to $ 650 Billion in Pentagon terms

That’s enormous

Tips for parents

This occurred years ago and I will never forget it. It was at a time period, when located in the Silicon Valley in California, you would have to be interviewed by 423 employees to discern if you qualified for a job. What was more comical is you would be interviewed by people that in NO way were connected with the department you were attempting to gain employment in. Imagine you are interviewing for a computer game company as an artist and you are interviewed by the warehouse shipping lead? No logic whatsoever.

I was attempting to get a job as a network administrator for a very large and well-known entity. I had passed four interviews and was lucky enough to move on to the next.

My next interviewer happens to be a woman that I am informed works as an admin and I have no idea why she is interviewing me.

She sits down and introduces herself and appears pleasant. The first question she asks is “If the #2 pencil is the most popular, why’s it still #2?”. I am taken aback. I reply “Because a number one pencil writes darker than a number two?” She just looks at me.

She asks, “Why does it REALLY hurt to hit your funny bone?” I answered, “Because there is no bone covering or protecting the nerves at that location, so you are really making direct contact with nerves.” I am thinking, what is this?

She then asks, “Why is the third hand on the watch called the second hand?”. I answered, “The hands could have been named anything they wanted.” I said, “If the third hand measures seconds, why can it not be the third on the watch if it was designed to do so?”

At this point I had had enough. I asked her what is with all the ridiculous questions that have absolutely nothing to do with what I am interviewing for?

The door opens at that moment and another woman comes in and asks the person interviewing me to leave. The person who had been asking me questions says to the other, “I like him, he is pretty sharp!” and she leaves the room.

I am now informed by the person who is sitting down that she is the interviewer I was supposed to have been speaking to. I asked whom the person was who was just asking me a series of strange questions. She said, “That was my secretary, Betty. I told her to come in here and see if you needed anything such as water since I was going to be a few minutes late.”

Why bother?

Well, what China wants to buy from the US is banned from export to China, such as chips and chipmaking equipment, on grounds of national security.

What China wants to sell to the US such as EVs and Huawei equipment is either banned or impeded by the Feds, on grounds of national security.

Chinese companies that make money stateside such as Tiktok, Shein and Temu are being targeted for outright bans or increasingly unfavorable legislation and requirements.

Put the enemy hat on China and the rulebook gets thrown out the window—the end justifies the means.

China will raise the tariff wall on American goods if the US does likewise, but the scope won’t be pushed to the extreme. China will simply develop options and stop buying American. For example, there is enough soybean around these days to skip American soy completely. In a few more years, it will be the same story for wheat, corn and other grains, and Chinese demand for American farm produce can experience a step change.

If there is no trust, there can be no longterm business relationship.

Smothered Cheesy Pork Chops

Cheesy Pork Chops
Cheesy Pork Chops

Ingredients

  • 4 or 5 boneless pork chops
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1/2 onion, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  • 1 cup Cheddar cheese, shredded

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Place pork chops in a baking pan. Season with salt and pepper on both sides.
  3. Sprinkle the onion on top of the pork. Spread mayonnaise on each pork chop. Top with shredded cheese.
  4. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and browned. Baking time may be longer, depending upon thickness of pork chops.

Is FM Wang Yi wasting his breath?

The US can’t hear reason. They are afflicted by an old problem: arrogance. No arrogant person was ever humbled except by humiliation.

China is moving ahead as planned… at full throttle!

COMBATE |🇵🇷 (@upholdreality) on X

China FM Wang Yi: "The US has been devising various tactics to suppress China and kept lengthening its unilateral sanctions list, reaching bewildering levels of unfathomable absurdity. If the US says one thing and does another, where is its credibility as a major country? If…

China FM Wang Yi: “The US has been devising various tactics to suppress China and kept lengthening its unilateral sanctions list, reaching bewildering levels of unfathomable absurdity.

If the US says one thing and does another, where is its credibility as a major country?

If it gets jittery whenever it hears the word China, where is its confidence as a major country?

If it only wants itself to prosper but denies other countries legitimate development, where is international fairness?

If it persistently monopolizes the high end of the value chain and keeps China at the low end, where is fairness in competition?

The challenge for the US comes from itself, not from China. If the US is obsessed with suppressing China, it will eventually harm itself.

We urge the US to be clear eyed about the trend of the times…”

Like a Hollywood Nightmare

As a Prison Medic I had quite a bit of contact with the older Inmates, many doing “Life Without”….

Most of them had cut most ties with “The World” and had developed a life inside the wire, some of them, remarkably productive.

Three of these men come to mind….

One was a leatherworker, who made and repaired saddles for the mounted patrols, taught “horse tack” and leatherwork classes to the other inmates and had an “outreach” program building adaptive saddles and tack for Equestrian Therapy programs around the state at no cost.

Another had been a lawyer on the outside and spent much time with with the other inmates advising them on their legal matters of Family law, property law, tax law…outside their “Cases”… and did it for free… he had his own funds for “Commissary”

And finally there was one of our Orderlies for the Medical Department. He acted as a formal Mentor to new inmates as they adjusted to prison life and was frequently asked to mediate disputes between inmates…

All of those men were killers…. none of those men were ever supposed to take a breath of “Free” air again, and all of them had made a life on the inside…

Unknown force killed these men

I use it every day.

Why? It’s a fast loading program, that’s easy to use. It reliably strips all formatting from a block of text. I don’t have to tell it each time that I want it to ignore hyperlinks, or HTML tags, and just treat them like the raw ASCII they truly are.

Readme.txt files are still found here and there. Notepad is the perfect program to view them.

When we purchased massive demographic data files from various vendors, they always came to us in some text format, CSV, pipe or tab delimited, fixed width… to write the scripts to import these encyclopedias, I would first need to inspect the header files with a program that wouldn’t alter or format the data in any way. Thank you Notepad.

Notepad is an electronic hand axe. It will continue to be useful for a very long time. There are more powerful text editors, some with very handy features for programmers, but Notepad is always there, on every machine, waiting for an opportunity to show how useful it can be.

Life in the USA today

Does nobody remember this? It was a film series Police Academy in the 80s and into the 1990s… I think.

Anybody who watched it should recognise this theme.

Anyway Debbie Callahan is very upfront.

She literally says TALK IS CHEAP.

she says
she says

And has been since the beginning of time.

Actions have always spoken louder than words:

So currently the USA is:

  • Peddling bullshit propaganda about Xinjiang against us.
  • Targeting ethnic (even US born Chinese) scientists and university graduates.
  • Targeting Chinese companies because they can’t compete.
  • Actively encouraging hate and racism against Chinese people.
  • Accusing us of everything under the sun even if it’s got nothing to do with us.
  • Imposing sanctions on us and our people.
  • Currently engaging in a massive military build up nearby (Phllipines.Japan)
  • Funds terrorism in my home (2019 riots)
  • Funds TW separatism.
  • Arms terrorist groups (CIA tibetan program)
  • Has parked two SSBN nuclear missile submarines in Korea 900km from our capital

map
map

400km if you consider Tianjin 500km if you consider Dailan.

All of those things are actions of a hostile state and most of them are acts of war.

What have we done to you? Ah yes we exist and for many westerners that’s just unacceptable.

Your son is a genius

This happened to me.

About 28 years ago I went to deposit my paycheck. It was about $500. I had $80 or so in the bank, I was sure, but just to validate, I asked for an account balance.

The teller smiled at me. “Sure,” she said. “After the wire transfer you received yesterday, and your deposit today, your balance is now $1,100,584.”

“Ummmm, what did you say?” The teller repeated the amount.

“Yesterday you received a wire transfer for $1.1 million dollars. Lucky you.” She smiled again.

I took a deep breath. “Look,” I said, “That can’t be my money. Can you please double check?” She nodded and walked over to the branch manager’s office. She returned about ten minutes later.

“Oh there was no error. The amount was wired from X bank to your account, and all the info is correct on the transfer form.”

“So let me ask you something. If I asked you to withdraw $500,000 in cash right now, you would actually give it to me?”

“Well no…” I nodded, knowing that something wasn’t kosher. “…it would take about 3 hours. We don’t keep that much cash on hand. What denominations would you like?”

I stood there like an idiot. “I would like to take out $100 please.”

I went home slightly dazed. The next morning, after a night spent wondering what I would do with the money, I received a call from the bank. It was the branch manager.

“Yes, Mr. Kaufmann, sorry to bother you. I need to inform you that there was an error in a bank wire transfer to your account. You had 1.1 million dollars deposited into your account. I hope you don’t mind, but we will return the funds to the sending bank.”

“No problem,” I said, “I knew it was a mistake.”

The money was removed that day.

That evening, I could not help but ask myself what if I had said, “no.”

Probably exactly the same thing. But it’s fun to think about.

The USA is in full collapse

“It won’t be.”

Such simple words, but they broke my heart. I am tearing up right now as I see them 5 years later.

My youngest son Colin has always been the most happy go lucky person I know. Nothing seems to get him down. He has always been small for his age and yet, he is beyond bullies. A quick little story about that, one of many.

When Colin was about 6 years old we went to the park. There was a bigger kid, probably 8 or 9, standing by the jungle gym. I watched Colin head towards the gym and the bigger kid stepped in his way. Every other kid on the playground had already been redirected and were playing elsewhere. Colin stood and looked up at the boy and I saw the boy pointing for him to go somewhere else. Colin just stood there and stared. The boy turned moved back towards the gym a bit and Colin started moving towards the gym. The bully again stood in his way. This went on for 5 minutes before I see the boy give Colin a ‘guard duty’ job at the base of the gym.

When Colin was born he had a heart murmur, which cleared up.

When Colin was 3 his tonsils were swollen so large his throat was reduced to the size of a quarter. He had a tonsillectomy.

When Colin was 7 he developed Type 1 Diabetes. He never cried. We cried, privately. His doctors kept telling him it was ok to cry and he never saw the need. When his cousin asked him if he liked insulin shots because he never complained about them he said, very matter of factly, “no, I have to live.” And so began the quarterly trips to the endocrinologist.

When Colin was 8 he had a seizure. We wound up taking him for EEGs and found out he has a form of Epilepsy. He didn’t cry, but he looked perturbed. He started on medication and it was effective. He was told he could outgrow it when he hit puberty. Every 6 months we went to the neurologist and had another EEG, he only had one other seizure and that was my fault because I forgot his medication. So his lack of seizures was giving the doctors hope that he was outgrowing it, but every time we went it was the same news: still abnormal.

A few years pass and we have been to so many doctors for so many things. There is a scheduled EEG on this day and we are about to head out the door. My wife and I are excited to go because he hasn’t had a seizure in 2 years and he is starting puberty so maybe this will be the EEG that shows he has outgrown the Epilepsy.

My wife smiles at him and says to this child, who has never once in his life been to a doctor and gotten positive news, who has never once cried or been remotely negative about it all, she says to him excitedly, “The doctor says if this EEG is better you can get off the meds,” and Colin quietly replies, “It won’t be.”

I had to hide my face.

To this day, that is the only negative comment he has ever uttered about his health problems. And it kills me today just to think about it.

Just to note, that EEG was not normal, but 2 years later he was removed from meds despite abnormal EEGs. He has not had a seizure in 5 years now and at almost 15 he has probably outgrown it. He is still small (But growing) for his age as a freshman in High School, and by no means a macho guy. In fact, he believes he is gay and that was no surprise to me, but he is the strongest person I have ever known, and my personal hero, because for all the petty nonsense I get upset about on a regular basis nothing compares to what he has been through, and yet all he does is smile and move on. We could all learn a little something from people like him.

Be the Rufus

June of 2014 I was pulled over for having a headlight out. That much is true.

I left that early morning from the State Highway Patrol station with a ticket for DUI. I was sober. The officer initially told me he thought I crossed the yellow line when he was following me. I did do that, as I was mistaken about the location of the driveway I was trying to get into. So, okay. Then he told me I smelled of alcohol. No, I didn’t. I had had two beers that calendar day, and the last was over 4 hours prior to this. Since then I had been sitting around a campfire. I reeked of smoke. Wood smoke. When I passed the breath test, I was told that they expected that, what with me smelling of weed. No. No I didn’t. But that’s going to be impossible to prove in a courtroom in a few months, right?

The police report they typed up mentioned that I had confessed in the back of the car to being on numerous illicit substances. That. Never. Happened. And I was NOT on any illicit substances.

Fortunately, the prosecutor tossed the whole case when there was no evidence of anything on my tox screen, no evidence of anything in my breath test, hair, urine, blood. NOTHING. Turns out these two assholes had been sending up some dubious cases for a while, but this one was the most egregious.

Ohio Patrol Troopers Northup and Norris, where ever you are, I hope you get a flat tire, your wife cheats on you with your partner, your dog dies, and you develop unfixable halitosis. You are the worst kind of human. You lied, repeatedly, and for what?

Because…

Racism is the very thing prisons are built out of. It’s the bricks, pipes, and bars of prison. Racism will surround and envelop you at all times while you are behind bars.

That said, you’re not supposed to acknowledge it. You had better not make any comments that are openly racist unless you’re ready to fight. So, while racism is the very air you breathe, you’d better not gulp it in and speak with it.

Inmates divide themselves up along racial lines. This really shouldn’t come as a surprise — we divide ourselves up by race everywhere in society. In prison it’s just more… rigid.

The most obvious example will be the chow hall. Where I spent most of my time, there was a white side, and a black side. The white side had six or seven tables set aside for Hispanics and “other.” The black side had only two tables that had been claimed by social misfits that nobody wanted to have at their table.

If a white guy sat in the black area heads would turn. The same was true for the reverse situation. If anything, the blacks seemed more disapproving of a black guy sitting with the whites. The general assumption was that if someone was sitting outside of their race then there was a (sexual) relationship. The person out of “place” was someone’s “bitch.”

The units were also divided by race. We had several TV rooms. One was for whites (read “rednecks”). One was for blacks and one was for anyone who spoke Spanish. A final room was supposed to be for sports, but wound up being a second room for the blacks.

Even the cells were arranged by race. The cells furthest from the doors were all occupied by black guys. This was their choice — being largest in number, they got to choose. The advantage of being farthest from the door is that you have the most warning before the guards get to you.

Is there racism in prison? I doubt this is even a serious question. Prison *is* racism.

Pre-Historic Mega Structure Discovered In New Zealand: Kaimanawa Wall

Back in the mid to late 90s I lived in a quite, older neighborhood in Euless Texas. I have a green thumb and made my yard one of the nicest ones on the street. There were some rambunctious boys that lived a few houses down. They started riding their bikes in my yard tearing things up. Next thing I know their friends are doing it too. I knew their parents and knew they were decent people. One day I came around the corner and the oldest son, about 14 or so and their ringleader, was right there in my driveway. I could tell he was about to head into my yard. I called out to him in a friendly tone “Hey! You wanna earn some extra cash?”

That got his attention. He said “Sure” as he got off his bike to speak with me. I told him I was having to work extra hours at work (true) and needed help keeping my yard up. I told him if her would mow the front yard weekly, spread fertilizer and pull any weeds he sees I’d give him 40 bucks every week. He was excited and agreed. Shortly my yard was back to being one of the nicest ones on the street. He was now in charge and took great pride in his work and the yard. He would fuss at his friends and brothers and run them off if they came around with their bikes. He also took great care of my lawn mower and any other tools he used and put them back in my shed when finished. I hated to see him go off to college a few years later!

“As the famous Turkish proverb says, when a clown goes to live in a palace, he does not become a king. But the palace becomes a circus.

One could, of course, perceive everything that is happening in Ukraine as a circus if the consequences were not so tragic and catastrophic for this state.

But circus acts are still very popular there.

We all know about air sirens sounding in Kyiv and other cities during visits of high-ranking foreign delegations in the absence of any shelling.

This has already become a kind of part of the circus program for the stay of foreign leaders in Ukraine.

What is noteworthy is that in Odessa, whose military facilities were actually attacked during the visit of a high-ranking Greek delegation to this city, the siren did not sound: such an act was not included in the circus program.

I would like to urge all those who have been whipping up passions today and will continue to whip up passions because of this episode to ask themselves a simple question.

Do you really think that if we really wanted to hit Zelensky’s motorcade, we wouldn’t be able to do it?

And try to answer it, just honestly.

Especially considering the fact that you know very well that this strike destroyed a workshop for the production of naval drones, or rather, their assembly from components supplied by the UK.

For us, this goal is much more important than Zelensky rushing around the frontline zone, taking selfies in cities before they are liberated by the Russian army.

And if any of you in your soul hopes to get rid of the leader of the Kyiv regime in this way, then I can disappoint you: this is not part of our plans.

The reincarnation of Mr. Goloborodko from the series ‘Servant of the People’ was elected to the presidency by Ukrainians, believing his election promises to establish peace in Donbass and protect the Russian language and Russian-speaking citizens of Ukraine.

He deceived his voters, so now let the Ukrainians and his Western puppet masters deal with him. We have more important tasks – fulfilling the goals of our special military operation.

And since you don’t want to talk about how to implement them through peaceful means, we are forced to use military means for this.

With all the ensuing consequences for Ukraine and the Western sponsors of the Kyiv regime, which have already begun to emerge very clearly.”

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main qimg 455afdf7c754106812ff514352133060

Excerpt from the speech by Dmitry Polyanskiy, First Deputy Permanent Representative of Russia to the UN, at the UN Security Council meeting on Ukraine, New York City, March 8, 2024.

Father’s revenge

Why didn’t China acquire the Mig29 and Mig31? Because China wanted the Su-27.

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main qimg f026a28ae10bede1f9ccd9296c718360 lq

And we got it. China realised that the heavy fighter design had far more potential than the much smaller 29.

jets
jets

Su 27 and Mig29 in between. The size difference is huge.

Russia in dire financial straits in the 1990s reluctantly agreed to sell them to us.

There’s a far more entertaining story which nobody knows is true or not.

Russian negotiators landed in Beijing to negotiate sale of Mig29s to China and said nyet Over and over again when Chinese asked for the SU27. Chinese negotiators pressed and pressed Russians over and over again but kept getting told no and hit an impasse. Until it was settled by a night on the town over booze.

Allegedly Chinese negotiators out drunk the Russians and got them to agree to our demands.

Flag
Flag

Those northern Chinese, they can REALLY drink. I mean REALLY drink. I nearly died when I dated a girl from Northern China, to her it was like water…Chinese Baiju starts at 56% Russian Samogan starts at 40%.

WOKE is completely insane

In college, I was invited to a private concert being filmed in a TV studio in Chicago. My good friend was the executive assistant to the president of the station so I had met the president several times before and he told me to bring a few friends along for this event and to find him when we got there.

The evening of the concert, there was a huge line of people waiting to get into the studio. These were folks not previously invited but vying for a few remaining spots to fill empty seats.

Having been invited personally by the studio president, we walked around the crowd and into the building to find him. Near the front of the line, we saw a guy dressed in studio gear, all black, headphones, clipboard, the whole deal holding back the crowd. I waved and explained “hello I’m Chet and was told to find John McDonald (not his real name) to be part of tonight’s concert event. I was nothing but polite and courteous.

This guy’s response? “I’m sorry…do you think you are special or something? See all these people? They waited in line and you can too. Go back to the end and wait just like everyone else.”

I was floored as was my roommate and our dates looked dumbfounded. I sort of chuckled but figured ok, something must have gotten lost in translation.

Not two seconds later, the studio prez John McDonald comes around the corner, sees us all there and exclaims “Chet! You made it!” and we all start shaking hands and making introductions to the ladies we brought along.

He then turned to the studio guy and said “take these four into the show and put them in the front row.”

As we followed the rude dude into the studio, I couldn’t resist saying “I guess we ARE special!”

Smirk obliterated.

You won’t believe this…

My son went on line to see if he could get hired for a programming job somewhere. He had no real experience working for anyone else in programming. He had worked for a small town IT guy, and did a lot of coding for an online game he played. His first job offer was as a contractor for a 6 month gig at a company in Sacramento, CA. He loaded up his car, abandoned his apartment in Springfield IL, and headed out.

When he went to work the first day, they showed him around a bit, then gave him his first assignment. He worked hard on it for the first two days, and handed in the finished project on the third day. The boss looked at him in an odd manner. He had someone run the program to make sure it actually did what it was supposed to do. He came back and told Jason that it was a job well done. Jason asked for his next assignment. The boss, a bit bemused, said, well, I’ll see if I can find something for you, but that assignment was your 6 month gig. They did keep him on for the 6 months, and he did several other projects for them. He didn’t get fired, but the other programmers weren’t at all happy with him, so he left at the end of the contract.

He has had several coding jobs since, and moved up into management, but finally decided that he really liked coding better than he liked managing coders, so his current job is back to coding, but at a pretty high level, with commensurate pay.

Tucker Carlson 3/9/24 | Breaking News March 9, 2024

https://youtu.be/8heGAYH21M4

China to give chipmakers $27 billion to counter U.S. sanctions — Big Fund III will have further funding rounds

By Anton Shilov

published about 24 hours ago

China to give chipmakers $27 billion to counter U.S. sanctions — Big Fund III will have further funding rounds
Big Fund III begins.

China is assembling the third phase of its Big Fund

to invest in crucial semiconductor projects across the country, a move that aims to accelerate the development of advanced technologies, make China self-reliant in the microelectronics industry, and counteract the United States’ efforts to limit China’s technological advancement.

The third phase of the National Integrated Circuit Industry Investment Fund, or the Big Fund, will pursue the same goal as the first two phases: make China self-sufficient in the semiconductor sector. According to a Bloomberg report, the Big Fund’s third-phase vehicle will primarily draw its capital from local governments, state-owned enterprises, and their investment branches, with the central government contributing a smaller portion. This strategy aligns with President Xi Jinping’s vision of pooling resources nationwide for significant projects, emphasizing self-reliance in the semiconductor sector.

The first round of Big Fund III funding is designed to raise $27 billion, a relatively modest sum by the Chinese standards for its semiconductor industry. Cities like Shanghai and entities like the China Chengtong Holdings Group and the State Development and Investment Corp. are expected to invest billions of yuan each in the third-phase fund. Meanwhile, the report says the fund will directly support local companies and finance three to four sub-funds to diversify deal sourcing and investment strategies.

The fund’s expansion comes as the United States urges its allies to tighten restrictions on China’s access to tools required to make chips on advanced product nodes, part of an ongoing chip war for control of the semiconductor manufacturing industry. Back in September, Big Fund II initiated a round to raise $41 billion to support domestic makers of wafer fab equipment. However, for Big Fund III, $27 billion will be spent on essential projects across China.

Since its inception in 2014, the Big Fund (2014 – 2018, ~$100B) and the Big Fund II (2019 – 2023 , ~$41B) have raised hundreds of billions of dollars and acquired stakes in dozens of microelectronics companies. Meanwhile, Bloomberg claims that Big Fund’s assets under management are currently valued at around $45 billion, which could be a direct result of the U.S. sanctions against China’s semiconductor sector, which significantly hit companies like SMIC (China’s foundry champion) and Yangtze Memory Technologies Co. (YMTC , China’s top 3D NAND maker).

Despite its successes, the Big Fund has faced criticism for its lack of transparency and accountability, operating primarily behind the scenes. Nonetheless, it is indisputable that the hundreds of billions of dollars poured into China’s semiconductor industry made the country one of the most prominent players in this field.

The United States today

About 15 years ago, I was working as a server at a restaurant, and as head server/trainer and an expeditor, I knew the menu inside and out, including pretty much all the ingredients.

We took allergies VERY seriously at our restaurant, and so when a guest asked,”Is there dairy in the crab cake? Because I’m allergic to dairy,” I was REQUIRED to ask the chef, verbatim, even though I KNEW the answer was no, because the chef is the highest authority on the food. So I go back to the kitchen, and I ask the chef, “Is there dairy in the crab cake? I have a guest who is allergic.”

He responds, “Yeah, there’s dairy in the crab cake.”

And I respond, “Uh, you’re wrong–I’ve prepped crab cakes myself. There’s no dairy in the crab cakes.”

Him: “Prove it.”

I go to the prep kitchen and pull the master recipe book from the shelf, bring it back to him, and read off the list of ingredients. “There’s no dairy on this list.”

Him: “There’s mayonnaise in the crab cake.”

Me: “That’s not dairy. Mayonnaise is eggs and oil, and a stabilizing agent.”

Him: “And where do you find eggs in the grocery store?”

Me: “In the dairy section.”

Him: “So eggs are dairy.”

Me: “No, they’re not. Eggs come from chickens. Dairy products are milk products, which have to come from a cow, or from the udder of another mammal. Chicken are birds, not mammals. Birds don’t have udders.”

Him: “Eggs come from the dairy section. They are therefore dairy.”

Me: *Facepalm* “Fine. I will tell the customer that the crab cakes have mayonnaise.”

(Back at the table.)

Me: “Ma’am, the chef told me to tell you that the crab cakes have mayonnaise.”

Guest: “But mayonnaise isn’t dairy, it’s made from eggs.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, you’re quite right, but the chef and I had a philosophical disagreement on that point, and he insists mayonnaise is dairy. So you may want to stay away from the crab cakes, considering the chef doesn’t actually know what’s in them.”

When plastic surgery goes wrong

Browned Butter Spaghetti with Mizithra

I used to love to go to the Spaghetti Factory for this. It’s so delicious! Mizithra is a great Greek cheese.

spaghetti browned butter
spaghetti browned butter

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 cup butter
  • Cooked spaghetti, drained
  • 1 cup Mizithra cheese, grated
  • Parsley, chopped (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cut butter into tablespoon size pieces and place in a 2 quart sauce pan. Place the pan of butter on a burner on medium heat. Bring butter to a slow boil (about 5 minutes).
  2. When the butter begins to boil, stir constantly to prevent residue from sticking to the bottom of the pan. As the butter cooks, it will start to foam and rise. Continue stirring, otherwise the butter foam could overflow (about 5 minutes) and catch fire.
  3. When the butter stops foaming and rising, cook until amber in color (about 1 to 2 minutes). It will have a pleasant caramel aroma.
  4. Turn off the heat and remove pan from burner. Let the sediment settle to the bottom of the pan for a few minutes.
  5. Pour the brown butter through a strainer into a small bowl. Do not disturb the residue at the bottom of the pan.
  6. The brown butter can be stored in the refrigerator and reheated in a microwave as needed.
  7. Boil the pasta of choice until al dente.
  8. Drain pasta and divide into four servings.
  9. Sprinkle 1/4 cup Mizithra cheese over each pasta serving.
  10. Top with 1/4 cup hot brown butter.

The reason why

Musical Chairs for Banks; The Music STOPS tomorrow

Monday, March 11, 2024, Banks may get a deadly dose of reality; the Federal Reserve will cease the Bank Term Funding Program (BTFP) which will stop making new loans.

During a period of stress last spring, the Bank Term Funding Program helped assure the stability of the banking system and provide support for the economy. After March 11, banks and other depository institutions will continue to have ready access to the discount window to meet liquidity needs.

As the program ends, the interest rate applicable to new BTFP loans has been adjusted such that the rate on new loans extended from now through program expiration will be no lower than the interest rate on reserve balances in effect on the day the loan is made. This rate adjustment ensures that the BTFP continues to support the goals of the program in the current interest rate environment. This change is effective immediately. All other terms of the program are unchanged.

The BTFP was established under Section 13(3) of the Federal Reserve Act, with approval of the Treasury Secretary.

When the BTFP stops, banks will not longer be able to borrow from the Fed based upon value-at-maturity of US Treasuries and other assets they hold.   So if the banks cannot borrow from the fed to meet their cash needs, how will they get the cash?

Put simply, the game of musical chairs for banks will see the music stop tomorrow.  Which Bank(s) will find themselves without a chair, and thus lose?

My mother married my stepfather when I was a teenager. We had a somewhat difficult relationship although it was readily apparent that he adored my mother and treated her very well. I tried to get along with him as best I could because I knew that I would eventually be moving out and my mother would need a partner. After a decade or so into their marriage his health declined. He had developed leukemia-induced anemia that was complicated by Crohn’s disease. After several years of painful existence and numerous hospital stays and blood transfusions he found himself in the ICU. His red blood cell count was critically low and he needed another transfusion or he would die within a few days. He decided he had had enough. He refused treatment so that he could pass away and be relieved of his pain. He went in and out of consciousness over those last two days. A priest had come to read him his last rites. His oxygen mask was at full capacity.

At one point I stood alone beside his bed and he mustered up enough strength to speak. He told me “take care of your body and read a lot of books on different subjects”. I acknowledged him. He added, “and take care of your mother”. He then slipped back into unconsciousness and the nurse asked that I leave the room and give him a break. I never heard him speak again. Those last words only reaffirmed to me what a great husband my mother had found, for in his last moments he was still concerned about her welfare.

That night my mother and I were in the waiting room at two in the morning when the nurse came to tell us that it was his time. We went into his ICU room, stood by his bedside, and watched on the monitor as his heart rate steadily dropped off to zero and his chest eased down to a stop. My mother looked down at him and said “what an amazing man, thank you for 17 wonderful years of marriage”. RIP Stan

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/43vF4ZQFwZA?feature=share

This actually happened to me. I’m an American who went to school for bit at Richmond College in England. At one point, several classmates and I went on an educational trip to Paris with chaperones and teachers. (Most of us were in our junior year of high school, and still technically children.) We spoke very little French, yet for the most part we found the people in Paris to be charming, and very kind to us. Most people, but not all.

One day, a friend and I were walking back to the dorms we were staying in. We were without a chaperone. We were hungry, so we stopped in a very small cafe in what seemed to be a quiet and lovely neighborhood. It was obvious when we first walked in that everyone seemed to know everyone, and they did not know us. There were no other places to eat anywhere near our location, and we were starving, so we decided to stay.

We were refused a table. When we brought out our money so that they would understand that we were serious customers, the owner reluctantly let us sit at the counter, but not at a table. She also refused to show us a menu, and simply brought us soup with very unusual animal parts in it. These were body parts that I had no idea a person could actually consume, and most of the parts appeared to be raw. We silently looked at each other confused. The owner of the cafe, and every customer, glared at us.

Finally, and shockingly, my friend started eating the broth. I tried and tried to remain pleasant and polite so that I would not be another bad example of an American tourist, yet finally I could no longer handle the situation. I burst out with laughter. Soon we were both laughing hysterically. We were then yelled at, and thrown out after paying a huge price for whatever that was we were served.

Sadly, my brave friend who ate the broth had to miss two days of sightseeing and school due to an unfortunate case of gastroenteritis.

So, to answer your question directly, if you are not wanted in a restaurant, run!

Twenty years ago I moved across the country. When I got to my new state, I dragged my heels at getting new license plates. I am embarrassed to say how far I exceeded the grace period. A cop I worked with at school reminded me gently that our particular state had pretty stiff penalties for expired tags and I should take care of it before I got pulled over. I wish I had heeded her warning.

I never got a notice in the mail, but sure enough, I did get pulled over. The cop was polite and told me why I had been stopped, then returned to his squad car to run my info.

He came back. “Are you aware you license has been suspended?

“WHAT??!!” I was not.

He was puzzled. “Do you owe child support or something?”

“No.” I was upset at this point, not with him but the situation. I have never been in trouble with the law.

He was obviously perplexed. “They don’t normally suspend a license for expired tags. Huh.” He wrote out a warning.

When it was time to leave, I said “Sir…with an expired license, how will I get home?”

He shrugged. “If I drive off first, how will I know if you’re driving?”

He was very kind. However, the legal system was not. I had to jump through a lot of expensive hoops to get things cleared up. All of it could have easily been avoided. Renew your tags, everyone.

A pizza delivery driver in his mid 20s (me….20 years ago) knocks on the door of an apartment, a few minutes go by and the door opens. As it swings open a cloud of VERY aromatic smoke rolls out and the man of the house says in a Bob Bitchin’ (PhD, MA, BA and a BMF besides) voice,

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I have your pizzas.”

“How much are they?”

“$20.87”

He hands me $30 asks for a $5 back, takes his change, and shuts the door. Nonplussed, I knock again. A couple of minutes goes by and the same man answered the door.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I still have your pizzas.”

“How much are they?”

Now here I paused, and considered, until finally…

“$20.87”

He reaches in his pocket, gets his wallet out, looks inside and says,

“Give me a minute.”

Another 5 or 6 minutes go by and I see him talking with the 4 other people sitting around the TV. A collection occurs. He finally returns to the door and hands me $20.87 in the form of a single $5, eight $1 s, and the other $7.87 in mixed change. He then apologizes saying,

“Sorry about all the change, and no tip, I swear I had $30 around here but I can’t find it.”

To this day, I cannot help but smack my forehead when I think about it.

Edit- Thanks to all. I hope it gave you a bit of joy.

Girls and grapes

I’m a physicist. One day I got a phone call from an undergraduate. She explained that as an assignment in a sociology course she was required to follow a scientist around for a day and document how he/she spent the day. “I’m far too busy to give you that much time,” I said.

“No—” she replied, “You won’t even notice I’m there. I’ll just watch and follow you around.” OK— it sounded a bit intriguing.

The scheduled morning she arrived in my office at 9 a.m. She sat down in a corner, and I got to work. Every now and then I looked up and caught her looking at me; she quickly looked away, and scribbled in her notebook. Suddenly I felt like a mountain gorilla being studied by Dian Fossey.

At 5 p.m she told me she was leaving. I asked her if she found anything surprising. “My god yes!” She responded. “Your day is totally different from what I expected.” I asked for details and she examined her notes.

She said, “You spent 60% of your time talking to other people! You did it on the phone, then you visited several other physicists in their offices. You had lunch with several graduate students. Even in your lab you were working with your graduate students. Several people came to your office.”

“What did you expect?” I asked her.

“I thought scientists worked alone. I thought they sat in front of computers all day, or in their labs wearing white coats and working with test tubes.”

“That’s the scientist of the movies,” I said. “Science is a very social profession. You can save weeks in the lab by a quick conversation with someone else. Two people talking are often much more than twice as effective as two people working alone.”

“I never knew that,” she said.

It’s odd that people avoid going into science because of the impression that it is for people who like to work alone. That may be true for some people, but in my experience virtually all effective scientists spend much of their time with other people. Maybe the wrong impression arises because of the high school science nerd who doesn’t yet have social skills. But social skills are essential to scientific success. Some nerds learn them only in graduate school. (And the ones who don’t often drop out of science.)

Indeed, the interaction with other people is what makes “coming to work” so much fun.

Cats can defy gravity

The Little Crappy Ships each have their own failures in design and execution. Sometimes tried and true is best – especially when building ships that need to be available (and mobile) all of the time. There is no auto club to call for a breakdown on the high seas.

Their mission evaporated as the world changed – a lightly defended coastal (litoral) ship did not end up being where the focus was needed. Their flexibilty was also limited because cost overuns in the basic ship package affected other wannabe missions – it was going to be a Swiss Army knife, but instead ended up a butter blade.

The navy threw in the towel when they started ordering more Constellation class frigates and cancelled the future LCS builds. Ironically, they were not cheap (half a billion $$$ or so) but they cost little enough by government standards to abandoned. Compare that to the Ford class carriers (about $14 billion each). The Fords had so much invested in them that throwing money and resources to solve technological issues (such as with the catapult system) was a given regardless of cost. You can fix things with time, money, and resources. There also was no readily available replacement available for the Ford carriers after years of investment in them. The end product is a great advance over it’s predecessor – which is not the story of the LCS.

So, lessons learned. Innovate but balance risks and reward, and know the mission you are trying to accomplish. Here is the LCS Independence. A face only a mother could love… … …

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Oh shit

Correction: China is NOT leaning more heavily on exports; the government’s policy has been to grow the Chinese domestic consumer market in order to lessen dependence on exports.

In 2024, the Chinese domestic consumer market is growing less slowly than the government likes because the Chinese real estate market is undergoing contraction. The Chinese government saw the real estate market as an asset bubble which needed to be pricked because it does not reflect a real productivity gain; it is just speculatory.

Since most Chinese have their savings tied up in their own home value, they now feel that they have less savings to spend, which is why the Chinese economy is entering a deflationary phase.

At the same time, the US and EU are putting pressure on Chinese exports of EVs and chips, as they try to decouple from Chinese exporters of those products.

This means that the whole world is going through a painful economic adjustment as supply chains are being decoupled in the US and EU.

The Chinese government is trying to re-adjust by increasing exports and trade with the BRICS+/Global South economies, while gradually cutting reliance on the US and EU markets.

Linda’s Picadillo (Mexican-Style Ground Beef)

picadillo
picadillo

Ingredients

  • 1 onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 3 potatoes, peeled and diced
  • 1 red or orange bell pepper, chopped
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons beef bouillon
  • 1 (4 ounce) can green chiles or 2 fresh poblano peppers, chopped
  • Spices: 1 or 2 bay leaves, salt, pepper, cumin, cayenne pepper, tomato Knorr, etc.
  • 1 can tomato sauce or Ro*Tel
  • 1 bag frozen corn (optional)
  • 1 bag frozen green beans (optional)

Instructions

  1. Sauté onions and garlic; add ground beef and cook until done. Drain fat.
  2. Add potatoes, bell pepper, water, beef buillon, green chiles or poblano peppers, spices of choice and tomato sauce or Ro*Tel. Simmer over medium heat until potatoes are tender.
  3. If using, add corn and green beans 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

She Bullied A Kid For Exercising Wrong, The Internet Destroyed Her..

Israel ‘Coerces’ UN Workers – By Outright Torturing Them

Every time one thinks that the depravity of Zionist fanatics has finally reached a limit they will proudly present even worse behavior.

UNRWA report says Israel coerced some agency employees to falsely admit Hamas linksReuters, Mar 9 2024

The U.N. agency for Palestinian refugees said some employees released into Gaza from Israeli detention reported having been pressured by Israeli authorities into falsely stating that the agency has Hamas links and that staff took part in the Oct. 7 attacks.

Coerced, pressured, … Maybe they had a harsh talk?

No. They outright tortured, Abu Graibh like, these UN workers. Some of them to their death:

The document said several UNRWA Palestinian staffers had been detained by the Israeli army, and added that the ill-treatment and abuse they said they had experienced included severe physical beatings, waterboarding, and threats of harm to family members.

In addition to the alleged abuse endured by UNRWA staff members, Palestinian detainees more broadly described allegations of abuse, including beatings, humiliation, threats, dog attacks, sexual violence, and deaths of detainees denied medical treatment, the UNRWA report said.

Reuters could not independently confirm the accounts of coercion of UNRWA staff and mistreatment of detainees, although the allegations of ill-treatment accord with descriptions by Palestinians freed from detention in December, February and March reported by Reuters and other news media.

Remi Brulin @RBrulin – 0:44 UTC · Mar 9, 2024“We tortured some folks” is pretty bad

“We tortured some folk so we could destroy a huge relief organization that’s indispensable in dealing with a huge humanitarian crisis that we created in the first place” is…. something else

What are civilized people supposed to do with these miscreants?

 

Posted by b at 11:13 UTC | Comments (156)

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/QTJ_Uk9OPZo?feature=share

This is another “didn’t say it, did it” story.

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas, about 25 years ago, and I was shopping for a gift for my wife. She loves pearls, especially baroque pearls, and even more when they’re set with a discreet diamond or two — nothing glitzy or brash. I went to the local branch of Barmakian Jewelers, a well known New England chain. I’d been there before and had spent there, over the years, a decidedly nontrivial amount, including some custom work I’d had them do. So I walked over to the Pearls and Diamonds counter with a budget figure of $600 (equivalent to just a hair over $1000 as I write this) and began eyeing the pieces through the glass counter surface.

I should probably mention here that I was at that time a software engineer and had just gotten out of work for the day, and I was dressed in jeans and a carpenter shirt (plaid flannel). No coat, this is New England and the temperature was well above freezing. As I browsed, I took note that although there was nobody at that counter at the moment, two sales associates were at the next counter, and I knew that they had seen me. Neither came over to help me. After about ten minutes of this, a man came walking over to the counter where I was, dressed in a suit and tie. Before you could say “WTF?” an associate, one of the two who had been chatting at the other counter, was there to help him. He lollygagged around, looked at a couple of pieces with the associate’s eager assistance, and finally decided he’d come back another day. He walked out without having spent a dime. The associate left the counter without even a glance in my direction, and returned to chat some more with the other associate. I figured I knew what was up, and I too walked out, taking my $600 budget elsewhere. I have never since stepped inside a Barmakian store, nor will I ever do so in the future.

Well, I think our fellow Quoran Orson Scott Card got something dreadfully wrong in his most famous work, Ender’s Game.

It was published in its novel form in 1985, and he envisioned a global computer network where people could publish anything. And it’s crucial to the plot that two very young people become massively influential by publishing, under pseudonyms, political essays with brilliant insights.

Internet, yes, fine, it was already invented and the WWW was just around the corner, but well called for seeing it as a potential game changer.

He did not anticipate that it would be used to watch memes of cats and spread flat Earth theories, and that any politically insightful youth would be totally drowned out by people trying to cure a dangerous disease by drinking bleach. Frankly, I don’t think anyone could have foreseen that…

Simple.

Ask the average American to watch a Chinese blockbuster. It can be dubbed, or subtitled.

Further, ask them to pick out the cultural hooks and references in the movie.

Vanishing few will be able to do so, even Chinese diaspora who grow up speaking only English.

Take it from me. I spent a lifetime consuming Chinese media, and I am fluent in at least 3 dialects: Cantonese, Hokkien and Mandarin. I spent 12 years learning Chinese formally, growing up in a Chinese speaking environment.

But I struggle with the cultural references in Chinese productions, which have cultural baselines that are several steps beyond the typical Taiwan/HK production.

In other words, Wong Kar Wai and Ang Lee are above average, and not the summit, in the mainland scheme of things, as far as deep culture is concerned.

Hollywood can never make a Chinese movie that touches the tender and vulnerable side of Chinese audiences. Not in the current climate of dehumanization and “we want your money, we don’t want you”.

The Chinese are not farm animals of American oligarchs.

And even if Hollywood decides to take the Chinese market seriously, it will take years and plenty of coin to compete against the Chinese competition.

At this point (2024), Hollywood isn’t even in the game.

November 8, 2018. I know the date because of it’s significance. 4 men were at the restaurant I frequent. They had reserved a part of 8. All of them were elderly, all of them were wearing hats with “vietnam veteran” and “173rd Airborne” on them. I didn’t need to know where their 4 missing comrades were, or what memories those 4 gentlemen would be reliving 53 years later. I know of Operation Hump.

I quietly wrote on a napkin, “I’m not going to say who I am, but I want to say 3 things: THANK YOU! May your brothers rest in peace, and tonight is on me. No arguments, soldiers.”

I had my waitress deliver it after I left, leaving my credit card (at the time, I lived right down the street) to pay for whatever they want.

I was told that they were very appreciative, and said “for people like that we’d do it again.” which is very touching if you ask me.

I’ve seen those gentlemen back every year since, and a few times on various other days, but I haven’t said anything, and I never intend to. Their meals are still on me every year.

Honestly, I don’t see any big difference and I don’t feel overwhelmed by Chinese goods.

In fact, China actively substituted only two fields: cars and household equipment

Midea or Haier instead of Bosch? No big difference. Same features, same prices. Bosch is also available by the way, and the price is comparable to Chinese. So who has left?

Chery/Haval instead of Renault and Nissan? No big difference, in fact Chinese are better. More options and features for lower price. Prices are slowly normalizing, by the way. Chinese car giants open new factories in Russia.

Of course, it will take time for market to find a new balance, but at least now it is possible to get a new SUV for around 2 million rubles. Sure, it’s not 1.3 million rubles like I paid for new Nissan Qashqai in 2018, but it’s even less about 2.4 million rubles I paid for new Nissan X-Trail in 2021. And well, Chinese turned out to be have better multimedia systems than Japanese or Europeans. Surprise, surprise.

Maybe even Moskvich will some day be available at more reasonable prices. Again, it all takes time.

New car market was too expensive starting from around last April. Now slowly getting to more normal prices.

Speaking of furniture, clothing and everything else – it got substituted locally and surprisingly well. If you are not dead set to pay 500,000 rubles for Dolce Gabbana, you can buy a nice good quality Russian coat at 10,000 rubles, for example. I bought warm and nice Russian-made alaska jacket for this winter for about 13,000 rubles. Didn’t notice any difference with “original” that cost double even before all those problems.

And well, I talk to people, I listen to people and I see what people are wearing and buying. There still are few “brand-crazy” folks, but most have just got ignorant.

If those “Western brands” ever want to return, they will have a hard time doing so. Sorry guys. And no, Chinese clothes are not popular and is not supplied en masse.

No.

Both of my grandfathers did just that.

Both of their wives only worked outside of the home during WWII, before they were their wives. By the early 1950s, both of my sets of grandparents were married and starting their families. Both families ended up with four children each. Both families owned their own homes—modest homes in small towns—all on the single income of a working-class man.

One grandfather was a salesman and installer of garage doors. One was a mechanic. Both were WWII vets, so there may have been some veterans benefits to help them out. Other than that, they were on their own.

I know much more about one grandfather’s house than the other one, because the one I know about was right down the street from the house I was raised in. That grandfather died in the 80s, before I really got to know him, but his widow (my grandmother) lived in that house until she died in 2016. I visited that house many times and even helped my father build the deck on it.

I don’t know what my grandfather paid for that house, but I know that, when it was sold “as in” after my grandmother passed, just eight years ago, it sold for $63k. According to Zillow, it’s now worth close to $200k. Same house. Eight years. Triple the price. Insanity.

And it’s not just that house. My mother’s house, where she still lives, just a few doors down, is has tripled in value in the last decade.

The house my grandfather raised his kids in was (and still is) just three bedrooms, one bath, tiny kitchen, and a little over 1,200 square feet. It is 1/3 the size of the house I am currently sitting in, and I would call my house fairly modest by Chicago standards. My grandfather’s house featured a detached two-car garage which he used as a workshop, a carport, a huge yard with a vegetable garden, two old-growth pecan trees and, of all things, a small vineyard.

I didn’t realize how cool it was that my grandparents had a small vineyard growing in their back yard until I was well into my 20s and, by then, it had been mostly destroyed by neglect (my grandmother couldn’t maintain it on her own in her old age), and I lived too far away to help her with it. The last time I drove past it, last summer, it looked like the new owners hadn’t taken it down, but hadn’t fixed it, either. It’s just continuing it’s multi-decade decay.

But I’ll bet it was pretty awesome back when my grandparents were raising their children in that house.

Anyway, besides things being a lot cheaper when my grandparents were raising their children, there were also just fewer expenses. Among all eight of their combined children, only one went to college, and that was for just one semester. Each family only had one car. Each family only had one TV, and they didn’t pay for cable until the early 1990s. The airwave signals were free. Each house had a single, land line phone. None of my grandparents ever had a credit card. The only things they bought on credit were their houses and cars.

About two hours ago, I gave my son my credit card so he could by a $2.50 Gatorade from a vending machine. My grandparents would be mortified about everything in that transaction.

I understand why so many young people feel like they’re getting cheated by this economy. They are. Who is cheating them, and why, and how to fix it, are where I disagree with many of them. But yes, I do agree that they have a much, much steeper mountain to climb to get to the same summit that my grandparents (their great-grandparents’ generation) seemed to have handed to them.

They are plenty smart enough, but they make terrible pets. You see, squid are what we call pelagic critters, meaning they spend most of their time in open water, away from the sea floor or any other features. They like lots and lots of water around them.

Their primary escape mechanism is to simply jet away into the abyss at Squid Warp Speed. It is so fast you literally cannot see it.

My bride and I met on a squid study, which involved a lot of laying in the water on snorkel and hand recording everything the individual squid did. One morning we were watching our usual flotilla of Sepioteuthis (Caribbean Reef Squid) and scrawling their antics on our slates.

And then, *blink.* They were gone. All 17 squid just vanished at once. We knew what happened, of course, but not why. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. Bonaire, the Caribbean island in the Dutch Antilles where the study took place, has extremely clear water. We could see easily 100 feet in all directions, but could not identify what spooked the squid. We were very sure it wasn’t us. Since we had been studying this particular school for weeks, the squid were extremely used to people by now.

Then, slowly out of the haze, a large barracuda cruised into view from the East, about 80 feet away. We could not even guess how the squid knew so quick, but they knew a big predator was moving in, and they Got Out Of Town by jetting away so fast (and far) we could not even keep track. The squid didn’t even bother shooting ink. They just disappeared.

This is why you cannot keep squid easily in captivity. They have had over 500 million years to develop this explosive escape strategy and, being prey for almost every predator in the ocean means they react to almost anything. Since invisible walls have never existed in nature, they cannot understand glass and don’t adapt to aquariums. At the slightest provocation, captive squid panic and try to blast away to safety, but they wind up slamming into the aquarium walls over and over and injuring themselves grievously.

Squid researchers have had mixed success with soft-sides inflatable pools as well as ring-shaped enclosures, but these critters do best out in open water.

On the other hand, octopuses do make excellent, if short lived, pets.

Build more of these.

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A nuclear exchange is at this point all but INEVITABLE.

What we need is to massively increase our nuclear bombs and missile systems.

Right now we have 5–600 bombs. That means we have to be selective about the cities we hit.

But with 1000 we can hit even smaller cities.

The white supremacists have literally parked a SSBN in Korea to do this.

We need a massive counter strike ability to take the white supremacists to hell with us. They can die in nuclear fires along with us.

Liberals will say but I don’t want nuclear war. Well the Nuclear Taboo is a myth.

This Chinese man was Zhang Qian.

In 139 B.C., Zhang Qian set out on a westward journey with his interpreter and an escort of about 100 men. But just as they entered the Hexi Corridor, they were bumped into by Xiongnu cavalry. After a battle, all the others were killed in battle, and only Zhang Qian and the interpreter, who did not take part in the battle, survived. Zhang Qian and his interpreter survived.

The two did not resist, and were escorted by the Huns’ cavalry from the Hexi Corridor to the King’s Court of the Xiongnu, a distance of more than 1,000 kilometers. The Xiongnu Chanyu also wanted to get information about the Han Dynasty from Zhang Qian, so he actively instigated him to rebel and even arranged for a high-status Xiongnu noblewoman to marry him.

Zhang Qian had been single for almost 30 years and readily accepted the kindness of the Xiongnu Chanyu, but he still did not leak any information about the Han Dynasty. Not only that, Zhang Qian also secretly mastered a lot of information about the Huns while living in the Xiongnu’ territory.

After ten years of this kind of life, Zhang Qian managed to escape with the help of his Xiongnu wife. However, he was captured by the Hun cavalry for the second time shortly after his escape.

The second time was in 128 B.C. Zhang Qian wanted to return to Chang’an. This time he deliberately avoided the sphere of influence of the Xiongnu people, but he was really unlucky and was caught by the Xiongnu people once again. Zhang Qian had already given up hope, but to his surprise, he was rescued by the Xiongnu woman again and escaped. This time Zhang Qian took her back to Chang’an.

In 126 BC, Zhang Qian, his Hun wife, son, and translator returned to Chang’an after an absence of thirteen years.

Upon his return, Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty made him Marquis of Bowang for his military service.

Although Zhang Qian was promoted, his Xiongnu wife who had made great contributions to him died of illness after one year in Chang’an because she was not adapted to the environment.

I guess Zhang Qian was a handsome man and his Xiongnu wife loved him wholeheartedly and even betrayed the Xiongnu Chanyu.

I had finished scraping the bottom of my boat and decided to have a shower at the clubhouse. Scraping bottom paint must be the dirtiest job in the world (potentially dangerous to your health without proper clothing and a respirator) and I was utterly filthy. As I walked up to the clubhouse, a guy in his mid-forties, a new member it turns out, told me I was not allowed in the “club,” as “no labourers allowed”. I laughed in his face and kindly told him to fuck off. He then told me he was getting the Commodore and that I would be barred from working at this club again. I said good luck with that and again told him to fuck off. When I finished up in the shower, I went to the wardroom to meet my wife and to have a beer. This guy was in the wardroom talking to the Commodore when I came in. When he saw me he said to the Commodore that I was a disrespectful shit and that I should be blackballed from the club. The Commodore said that I might be a shit, but I was a member in good standing and it would look bad if she tried to blackball her husband.

Depends on the Products in Question

Let’s see where Japan leads and dominates over China :-

  • Refrigeration
  • Cameras & Lenses
  • Petrol Engines
  • Industrial Robots
  • Hybrid Vehicles

Japanese Exports are primarily in these industries.

Japan has the best quality products in the world in these categories

Let’s see where China leads and dominates over Japan:-

  • Shipbuilding
  • Railroads & Electrified Railway Design and manufacture
  • Infrastructure Steel & Equipment & High Machinery
  • Television LCD Panels
  • High Efficiency (> 25%) Solar Panels
  • NEV Batteries & Integrated Platforms
  • New Energy Vehicles
  • Deep Core Gas Drilling Equipment
  • Data Centers
  • Windmill & Wind Turbines

Chinese Exports are primarily in these Industries

China has the best quality products in the world in these categories


Then you have areas where both Japan and China are not yet on par with global (western standards) :-

  • Advanced Lenses (Germany)
  • Advanced Chips (US, Europe, Korea)
  • Advanced Computing (US)
  • Diesel Engines (Germany)
  • Aviation Components (Europe, US)
  • Pharmaceuticals (Switzerland, US, France)

In these areas, neither Japan nor China have the quality of their Western counterparts

These form a huge chunk of Chinas Imports and Japans imports

The West is completely fucked up

Iowa Spaghetti Sauce

When we were young, we looked forward to visiting my Aunt Anita in Muscatine, Iowa. She always had this ready for us when we arrived. We fought over the mushrooms, so over time, she added up to three times the amount of mushrooms called for!

iowa spaghetti sauce
iowa spaghetti sauce

Ingredients

  • 3 or 4 cloves garlic
  • 2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 large onion, finely chopped
  • 3 (15 ounce) cans tomato sauce
  • 1/4 cup cider vinegar
  • 1/3 cup brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/4 teaspoon cloves
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
  • 1 cup finely chopped celery
  • Salt, to taste
  • 1 large can mushrooms, drained

Instructions

  1. Brown garlic in 1 tablespoon salad oil; discard garlic. Add ground meat and salt, 1/2 cup water and cook.
  2. When the meat is half done, add the onions and cook until done.
  3. Add the remaining ingredients, except the mushrooms, and cook until thick, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
  4. Add mushrooms when thick.
  5. Serve over spaghetti!

Let ‘er rip baby! Fire away! Don’t hold back.

Don’t hold anything back. The hardest letters in prison were the ones I didn’t get.

Maybe you don’t want to write to me because you’re angry. I did something stupid, got my dumb ass tossed in the cooler, and you’re livid.

There-is-no-better-time-to-write!

I’m a sitting duck! I’ve got nothing better to do than read your letter. I’ll read it again and again! Write out your rant, become my personal troll, and flame on old-school from afar. You might have six months worth of rage pent up, waiting to be unleashed on the page. Get it off your chest. Toss open the hatches and let loose whatever foul demons you’ve been harboring below deck. Let me know the full depth and breadth of your wrath.

I would much rather deal with this now through letters than during our first face to face encounter years later. We can discuss everything, get to the heart of it, and maybe even move on.

Has a loved one of mine passed on? Are you afraid that telling me will break my heart? If I go years without getting a letter from that person, that will break my heart. I’ll wonder on a daily basis why mom doesn’t write anymore. Then on that day when I’m finally released, a day meant to be full of hope and new beginnings, you finally hit me with the bad news?

No thanks. Tell me now. Toll that bell and let me grieve here in this hell hole in my own time and way.

Some of the hardest time I did was when it was clear that my girlfriend was breaking up with me. She stopped writing, stopped answering phone calls, stopped caring.

I knew what was happening, but without her black and white confirmation, it was a glacial band-aid ripping — it lasted months. A simple letter could’ve put it to a swift and final conclusion. I wouldn’t have gotten out two years later wondering, “Where is everyone?”

What subjects should you avoid? None.

Don’t waste any time worrying about my psyche. I’m a big enough boy to find my way into prison. Your letters aren’t going to push me over the edge, but maybe they’ll push us closer together.

The is the reality right now. Gen-Z. People are not meant to be living alone. Thank you “WOKE” society.

Pope Tells Ukraine: Wave the White Flag . . .

Pope Francis was asked what he would tell Ukraine President Zelensky and his response was succinct: Surrender, you’re defeated.

Of course, His Holiness put it more gracefully.  His exact words were:

"I think that the strongest one is the one who looks at the situation, thinks about the people, and has the courage of the white flag and negotiates. The word negotiate is a courageous word. When you see that you are defeated, that things are not going well. you have to have the courage to negotiate."

Meanwhile, Emmanuel Macron, president of France, is beating the war drums for NATO entry into the Ukraine-Russia conflict.  He continues to push the suicidal notion of NATO countries sending troops in to fight alongside Ukraine, despite being repeatedly warned NATO entry into that conflict would result in a “war the no one will win.”  That is to say, a nuclear war.

Macron just today began mobilizing trainloads of French Armor, including tanks, heading east for Ukraine.  Video below shows one such train:

 

 

Moreover, French troops are preparing for a high-intensity conflict against an enemy who can match them with firepower — a big change for an army that’s spent the past decades fighting counterinsurgency campaigns in places like Mali and Afghanistan.

The hostilities in Ukraine, in their third year, have brought full-scale war back to the Continent, said Colonel Axel Denis, who runs the combat training center (CENTAC) at Mailly-le-camp in eastern France.

“The world has revealed its true nature: unstable, dangerous, and not everyone is a friend. We’re gearing up for a culture of alert, of being ready at short notice,” he told POLITICO during a visit to the camp. “CENTAC is the only place [in France] where you can see what war is like.”

Conditions for the troops training at CENTAC are as close as possible to an actual battlefield. The sound, heat and light of artillery fire is reproduced, while fake mines are scattered everywhere, and radio communications can be interrupted without notice.

History shows that the last time the French went into Russia, under Napoleon Bonaparte, they lost 650,000 soldiers. Their bones were left to disintegrate in Russia.

Those who do not learn from history, seem doomed to repeat it.

One time I was working on my car. I was lying on my back under the engine but I was quite safe as I had raised the car on proper axle stands before removing the front wheels. To be even safer I had chosen to work on the engine with the car parked in the street as it was flat and horizontal. Our driveway was at an angle.

Dad was standing at the front of the car leaning under the bonnet (hood) and directing operations. It was a good time working with my dad.

One of our neighbours arrived and made a complete bodge of parking. He hit my car very slowly with his bumper. No damage to either car but the impact was enough to rock my car forward. The forward motion was enough to cause my car to roll off the axle stands. As the front wheels had been removed the whole weight of the engine descended on my chest.

Dad anticipated what would happen. As soon as the car began to move he grabbed the front bumper with one hand and my legs with the other hand. My father is not a big man. He was 5′-10″ but fairly heavily built. He lifted the front of a Ford Cortina with one hand while pulling me out from underneath with the other.

As far as I was concerned he earned another gold star when he dropped the car and dragged our neighbour from his car and slugged him on the jaw. As he fell, out cold, I will always remember Dad shouting,

“You could have killed MY SON.”

That “my son” was golden.

Jesus!

Sexy girls with food

I arrived in Tokyo with a terrible stomach ache and followed by bad diarrhea. For the first 2 days I could barely walk and only eat very little.

I then decided to go see a doctor, my wife called her friend who lives in Tokyo to ask about the closest hospital etc. He and his girlfriend showed up in our apartment, taking me to the closest clinic just in case the nurse/doctor don’t speak any English.

It was a normal clinic routine, I (or was it my wife?) filled up a form with my names etc, we wait and then saw a doctor. True enough, the doctor doesn’t speak English well, so he communicated with my friend while sometimes punching some keys on his phone for English translation to say things to me. By this time I feel really bad for my wife’s friend as he has to translate what i feel, in detail, to the doctor, about my diarrhea. It’s probably his worst first conversation with someone ever!

All good, he prescribed medicine, while explaining to my friend what and how much to take when. The doctor was very very responsible, he found translations on his phone again to write the name of the medicine and what each pill is for etc in English.

The strange thing comes when I want to pay the bill. The nurse said that the cashier was closed on weekends (it was Saturday), she estimated that the cost would be around JPY 10,000 or less. So, she asked me to give her JPY 5,000 and comeback on Monday to settle the rest with the cashier.

The strangest thing is, I told her that Monday is my schedule to take my kid to Disneyland and Tuesday to Disney Sea, to which she replied (translated by my wife’s dear friend, obviously) “ok, come whenever you have time, it’s OK”

I was dumbfounded by her answer, I asked again to confirm and she said yes.

I mean they know that I don’t live in Japan, nor do they ask my friend’s number/ address. My wife’s friend, my savior, then explained to me that it is quite normal in Japan because Japanese people are very responsible and honest, so they always pay what is due.

Big respect for their culture.

PS: I ended up paying the balance on Thursday, it was around JPY 3,500 🙂

Forbidden books

Personally, I think it’s the Pitcairn Islands.

But not for the reasons you may think.

Globe
Globe

For those of you who don’t know, the Pitcairn Islands are a British Overseas Territory in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It’s one of the most isolated places in the world, and only has a population of 47 people, most of whom are descended from the nine people who originally settled the islands. They’re also all mostly interrelated, in one way or another.

The territory is owned by the United Kingdom, but governed by New Zealand’s British High Commissioner. They rarely visit, and ships only come to the islands about two dozen times a year.

[1] So I think it’s fair to say that the Pitcairn Islands are very isolated from the rest of society. The 47 residents of the Islands don’t have too much contact with the outside world.

But that’s precisely what makes it so dangerous.

In 1999, a policeman from Kent, England was serving an assignment on the islands, when he started to uncover some sinister things going on. He started uncovering allegations of sexual abuse, including against children.

An Australian pastor visited the island around that time, and made some shocking observations

“I noticed worrying signs such as inexplicable mood swings,” he says. “It took me three months to realise they were being abused. I tried to raise the subject at a meeting of the island council, and one gentleman replied: ‘Look, the age of consent has always been 12 and it doesn’t hurt them.'” [2]

When further questioned, residents of the island basically said “that’s just how it is here”. Girls would get into relationships at a disturbingly young age on the island, and nobody really noticed from the outside for a long time. Most girls had their first child between ages 12 and 15.

That’s pretty messed up. As it turns out, the remoteness of the island had allowed a disturbing culture of sexuality to develop. The policeman started questioning every single woman who lived on the island, and they all saw nothing wrong with it.

But British officials definitely saw something wrong with it, and pressed charges against seven men. That may not seem like a lot, but consider that that was most of the island’s adult male population at the time, including the mayor of the islands.

This was a huge scandal, and raised a lot of questions about extraterritoriality and law and stuff. During the trial, they had to fly in policemen, judges, lawyers, journalists and other court staff; from the UK, Australia and New Zealand.

This effectively doubled the island’s population during the trial.

Lawyers for the defendants made a strange argument in order to try and get their sentences reduced: they argued that if they were imprisoned, the island would cease to function. And they had a point. When an island has a population as small as the Pitcairn Islands, locking up seven able-bodied men has a huge impact.

Four defendants got reduced sentences because of the unique nature of the island’s population. Two were spared from jail entirely, and one was acquitted.


This is what I think makes it one of the most dangerous islands in the world. Not the wildlife, not the flora and fauna, but the people living there.

The same way anonymity can make people cruel and immoral, isolation can do the same thing, allowing cultures of abuse and mistreatment to develop. In my opinion, this case is no different to cases of abuse within cults. Both involved small groups of people and corrupt leadership, who basically created a little realm in which they could get away with horrible things.

Footnotes

China’s Military Aircraft Can Vanish ‘Off The Radar’ As Scientist Developed Plasma Device

In another remarkable leap forward in the realm of military technology, Chinese scientists have unveiled a groundbreaking development that is sure to revolutionize aerial warfare: a new plasma stealth device that could render Chinese aircraft virtually invisible to enemy radar systems. You heard that right! We might see the time where Chinese aircraft will go undetected on enemy radar systems and in turn inflict a plethora of damage. Today’s episode will uncover the new development of Chinese scientists that might make Chinese aircraft invisible in the future. https://youtu.be/TD20CoQ1dPA

India may suffer massive shortages

Luckily not of food products but many other things.

Electric Vehicles , Electronics, Vehicles, Smartphons, Pumps – will all reduce significantly as they primarily depend on Chinese Components and Import Substitution is impossible due to the Ukranian Crisis.

The Biggest problem is ANTIBIOTICS, PAINKILLERS, ANTIVIRALS

India manufactures a lot of these but 80% Pharma Raw Stock comes from China

A Blockade by US could prevent Crucial Antibiotics from being delivered to more than 60% of the Countries in the World (95% Developing Countries)


Globally the Biggest Problem will be – CHIPS

Taiwan exports 93% of its Chips and controls 70% of the Global Supply Chain

A Blockade on the Taiwan Straits by China could result in an existing supply crunch intensifying several times over.

As on date only 7 Stacks of Chips are being delivered for every 12 Stacks of Chips relative to 2019 Globally -ie:- only around 60% of the Global Supply

If Taiwan joins in then you could have 7 Stacks for every 36 -48 Stacks or only around 15%-20% of the Global Supply

That would impact many many Industries

ASEAN Nations will lose Big

The Seas are very profitable for Trade. Those routes are disturbed – it will lead to a Supply Crisis like EU is experiencing.


And the Western Economies will crumble even worse

A Lot of their Hedge Funds invest in Chip Manufacturing Entities and a Huge Shortfal market could collapse such funds by as much as 40%-60%

It will all pass…

Its not a Question of Guts

Its a Question of having the ability to follow through

War is a drain on everything and fighting a War against several enemies could be a huge obstacle to any country.

Every repurcussion has to be planned , anticipated and handled

Putin took 8 years and even then it was a Weak Joe Biden that finally moved him into the Ukraine Conflict.

8 years of planning, contingencies, new alliances


Has the US ever fought a Conflict or War where there is a threat of either China or Russia coming for a defensive battle?

Not since the 1960s

Same Reason.


Attacking Taiwan is a 2 Week Job, 4 weeks Tops

Taiwan cannot hold against China and no amount of alliances can hold a Determined China from hoding Taiwan

The Political Repurcussions, Global Repurcussions, Financial Repurcussions – these are Chinas largest obstacles.

China has to plan for these and how to counter these

Strong Alliances are crucial here

China already has Russia and Central Asia

Turkey mostly will not condemn China in any way

However ASEAN?

ASEAN nations are headless chickens and if pushed and pressurized heavily could create problems for China


Long story short – China will attack Tiwan only if threatened beyond anything we have seen until today

In 1997, Gay Byrne was hosting the Late Late Show.

His two guests of the evening were a nun and Irish poet, Brendan Kennelly.

The night was going well – at the midpoint of each episode, they usually hosted a phone-in competition. You know the format; they ask an unbelievably easy question, get people to send in the answer, and they pick one person to call and tell them congratulations! you’ve won a prize!

This evening was no different.

The prize of the evening was a new car and Byrne dials the lucky winner.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

The phone is answered by a quiet sounding woman. She sounded meek, even when told she had won.

“Are you happy, Rita?”

“Yes,” Rita replies quietly.

“Are you watching the show tonight?”

“I wasn’t”, Rita replies …

… “my daughter died last night”.

News
News

Instantly there were gasps and Byrne’s face drops and his tone changes.

“Oh no. Oh dear Rita, I’m very sorry.”

You have to remember that this was live TV. Thousands of people, including a studio audience full of people, were sat in front of him. Byrne probably also had his studio team giving him instructions in his ear. So, he flubbed, and very inelegantly asked:

“And why did she die?”

“Are you being funny?” she shot back.

“She got knocked down. She was in a car crash last night.”

It turned out that it was Rita’s daughter who had entered the competition – she was so hoping to win a car and it was a car that ended her life only a day before.

Byrne, being the fantastic host that he was, realised that he should really give Rita, the poor woman, an out if she wanted it.

“Good heavens. Well Rita, I don’t think we can continue with this in the circumstances. Do you want to?”

“I do.”

This led to applause from the audience and Rita continued.

The first guest, the nun, offered her some consolation, saying that it surely was no accident that the postcard was picked tonight.

Next, it was passed to the poet, Kennelly, who recited one of his most famous poems, “Begin,” from memory:

“Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.”

Towards the end, Rita was quietly weeping.

Byrne then tells her that she has the support and prayers of the entire country, and Rita, in turn, told Byrne that she felt it was important to stay on the line for her daughter, that she was accepting the prize “for her”.


I’m describing this clip because I can’t find the full version of it anywhere.

Nobody can.

The only version I can find is on this article here, but it is shortened and doesn’t give the full effect: Talk show host’s phone call takes heartbreaking turn live on air

Graham Norton, the extremely popular Irish chat show host of his own show on the BBC, actually once said that this moment inspired him to move into chat shows.


Gay Byrne died recently at the age of 85, after a short illness battling cancer.

He will forever be missed and remembered fondly by Irish people of a certain age.


Edit: It turns out that the video in that article has since been removed, which must have only happened in the last few days — unfortunately.

Also, many people have pointed out how I feel like this was more shocking than events like Budd Dwyer’s suicide.

I knew these would be discussed in-depth, so I figured I’d go with an event I knew most people wouldn’t have heard of.

AI is changing the game

On February 14, there was an incident between a Taiwan coast guard ship and Chinese fishing boats in the waters off Kinmen, a very short distance from Xiamen. In this incident, the Chinese fishing boat was hit by the Taiwan coast guard ship and capsized. Two of the Chinese fishermen drowned.

Since then, there have been 15 rounds of discussions between the Chinese authorities and the Taiwan authorities. The Chinese side has demanded compensation and an apology to the fishermen from the Taiwan side; Taiwan has refused. The DPP, which controls the Taiwan government, has refused any responsibility for the action, and claims that there is no video recording of the incident It has appealed to the US to become involved in the discussions, which the US so far has ignored.

The incident has received widespread coverage in China, and this has led to a hardening of Chinese popular opinion, and the government’s stance to Taiwan. Chinese public opinion feels that the Chinese authorities have been too accommodating to Taiwan for too long, and instead of treating Taiwan as “fellow Chinese”, they should be treated as an enemy. For a long time, PRC Chinese considered the DPP and KMT to be hostile to the PRC, but that ordinary Taiwanese were decent Chinese who wanted to be re-united with China. Now that view is dismissed as a fantasy which should be rejected.

The Chinese government closely follows public opinion from online media, and has shifted its public stance during the Two Congresses meeting in Beijing. When discussing Taiwan, there is no more talk of an appeal to our “Taiwan compatriots”. Instead the talk is of reunification, without specifying whether it should be done peacefully or by military means.

As the PRC increases its military patrols in the Taiwan straits and around Taiwan, it is likely that the PLA forces will ignore Taiwan’s demarcation lines for the sea and air. The DPP government is likely to look to the US for support in enforcing these demarcation lines, and the US will need to decide how far it wants to go in supporting the Taiwan authorities.

On the military front, the US is thinly spread with the Ukraine war, which may escalate into a more direct confrontation between NATO and Russia, and the Israel/Hamas war, which may evolved into a multi-front war for Israel, involving the Houthis in the Red Sea and Yemen, the continuing war in Gaza, and a possible northern front including Lebanon and Syria involving Hizbollah. The longer the war lasts, the greater the damage for Israel’s economy, which has already lost 20% of its GDP since October 7.

This presents a major dilemma for the US: it already has two major wars on its hands, and it needs time to build up its military for a possible major confrontation with China. But the US won’t be able to fully prepare itself for military confrontation through re-armament until 2027. If the US confronts China militarily before then, it is likely to lose.

Economically, China is on the move by selling products which are just as good as American products, if not better, at much lower prices. Notable areas are solar panels and EVs, where western manufacturers and exporters cannot compete.

As if that were not enough, we face a re-run of the Biden-Trump battle for the presidency in November. If Trump is elected, he is likely to disengage on the foreign policy front, and will tell Putin that he can have Ukraine, and maybe Europe. NATO will only exist on paper.

He has talked about raising tariffs on Chinese imports to the US to 60%.

Interesting times indeed.

Chicken farmers in Australia be like…

New York is an absolute no no

Too many blacks at night everywhere and 90% of them wearing hoodies and giving the “mugger vibe”

And not the Good African blacks or the blacks you see in UK

The Stereotype 1990s blacks depicted in family guy

You may think you landed in Lagos

Except Manhattan and i dont like Apartment living too much.


Miami?

I have never been to Miami. In Florida, I have been only to Orlando.


SF Bay Area

Sorry

Too many Homosexuals

I went there twice and both times, you had many men holding hands and resting heads on shoulders and giving you the shudders

Beautiful place though

Like South Mumbai to a certain extent


Los Angeles?

Again I have been to LA only to go to Universal Studios and Rodeo Drive and when I land in US

No idea how life in LA can be


In the US, I would prefer living in New Rochelle in Westchester County Or some of those nice Suburban communities, ones where Indians are not discriminated against

Or even San Jose

My Son lived in a place called Los Gatos and he was told all the white guys were uppity people who would be racist to Indians. That never happened. Good people, Friendly people


My idea of a money no limit place would be :-

  • One Acre minimum property
  • Excellent Medical Facilities nearby where the Labs process results in a day and not four days
  • Where a Specialist makes an appointment to see you, the next day and not next Thursday
  • At least two Indian eateries in a 1 Km radius. Not the Naan, Roti one but the South Indian one which is rarer in the US
  • Low rate of crime
  • Accessibility to a City for emergency

The Answer was Westchester County

I advised my sons to consider this place as a final retirement place in the days when US was a better country than it is today

My wife is already not too pleased about one son settling in China and has warned me “You kept praising China, and now our younger son is in China. Now you are praising Russia. If the elder one settles down in Russia, you can live with him and I am out of here”

Meanwhile in Texas

I’ve known men who had good hearts and went to prison.

Where they lost them.

I’ve met men who went to prison and grew larger hearts, just like the Grinch.

I’ve met men who never had good hearts and never will.

And, I’ve met men who managed to hold on to their good hearts in spite of it all.

Shortly after arriving at the facility where I did the bulk of my time, I met a man who was almost the same age as my father. This was a spry fellow, slender, medium height, and bearded.

He had been in Vietnam.

He was just a kid when he went to war. While away he kept an unusually candid journal. Later in life he transcribed the journal faithfully into a book and self-published a small number of copies. It must’ve been tempting to edit out the parts that made him look like the stupid teenager he was, but he didn’t. The journal and the book tell the same story without so much as a spelling correction.

He allowed me to read his journal.

It was filled with the concerns of an eighteen year old boy, “Does she love me? What did she mean when she said that? What should I tell her about John?” All these normal, adolescent, girl-centric concerns projected against a backdrop of horror.

On his first day of patrol in Vietnam, his outfit marched into a village and demanded to know where the Viet Cong were. One bad apple threatened a woman by holding her infant over a well and screaming for answers about the VC.

The sergeant saw this and said, “C’mon Smith. Let it go.” Smith (or whatever his name was) dropped the baby into the well. The sergeant calmly walked over, pulled out a hand grenade, removed the pin, and dropped the grenade into the well after the baby.

After the explosion he said, “Don’t have to worry about that fucker.”

This was day one of patrol. Imagine the shock. Imagine being ripped out of your Mid-West suburban utopia and being cast into this asylum for the chronically cruel.

The entire course of this young man’s life was forever altered. His experiences at war led to a drinking problem. The drinking led to DUIs. Three DUIs became a felony conviction. His father’s guns still in his home became “felon in possession of a firearm.”

This was a good man. His heart was in pain for his entire adulthood as a result of the things he saw.

Instead of offering him help, we locked him up.

Oh baby…

Senior Russian Military Colonel: Possibility of full-scale war in Europe “not ruled out – growing significantly”

A senior Russian military officer warns that the conflict in #Ukraine could escalate into a full-scale war in #Europe and says the probability of Moscow’s forces becoming involved in a new conflict is increasing “significantly.” Colonel-General Vladimir Zarudnitsky, head of the Russian army’s Military Academy of the General Staff, made the comments in an article for “Military Thought”, a defense ministry publication, the state RIA news agency reported on Thursday. “The possibility of an escalation of the conflict in Ukraine – from the expansion of participants in ‘proxy forces’ used for military confrontation with Russia to a large-scale war in Europe – cannot be ruled out,” RIA cited him a saying. “The main source of military threats to our state is the anti-Russian policy of the United States and its allies, who are conducting a new type of hybrid warfare in order to weaken Russia in every possible way, limit its sovereignty and destroy its territorial integrity,” he was quoted as saying. “The likelihood of our state being purposefully drawn into new military conflicts is significantly increasing.” The war in Ukraine has triggered the deepest crisis in Russia’s relations with the West since the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis and President Vladimir Putin has warned that the West risks provoking a nuclear war if it sends troops to fight in Ukraine. Putin has cast his decision to send tens of thousands of troops into Ukraine in February 2022 as a special military operation designed to secure Russia’s own security against an increasingly hostile US-backed Ukrainian leadership. Kyiv says it is defending itself against an imperial-style war of conquest designed to erase its national identity. Zarudnitsky’s comments come at a time when the West is scrambling to help Ukraine with more arms and financing after Kyiv’s failed counteroffensive last summer and after Russian forces regained the initiative on the battlefield. Zarudnitsky advocated a number of changes in the way Russia organizes its military and security, RIA added, including placing greater emphasis on relying on what he called friendly countries to ensure Russia’s own security and consolidating the whole of Russian society around its defense needs.

Fathers be like

Apricot Chicken

apricot chicken 2
apricot chicken 2

Ingredients

Chicken

  • 4 to 6 boneless skinless chicken breasts
  • 1 (13 ounce) jar apricot preserves
  • 1 envelope dry onion soup mix
  • 3/4 cup water
  • 1 1/4 cups Russian dressing or use store-bought

Russian Dressing

  • 1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
  • 1 cup mayonnaise
  • 1/4 cup chili sauce (or ketchup)
  • 3 teaspoons prepared horseradish (or to taste)
  • 1 teaspoon hot sauce
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1/4 teaspoon paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

Instructions

  1. If using homemade Russian Dressing, prepare it first. If using store bought Russian dressing, proceed with the recipe.
  2. Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Chicken

  1. Wash and place chicken breasts in a 9 x 13 inch baking dish.
  2. In a medium size bowl, mix together preserves, dry onion soup mix, water and Russian dressing. Pour over the chicken breasts. Bake for 1 hour.

Russian Dressing

  1. Place onion in a small bowl and mash to create a paste. Stir in the mayonnaise, chili sauce, horseradish, hot sauce, Worcestershire, paprika and salt.

Stability

Don’t make eye contact. If you happen to, do not smile. The general friendliness we see as acceptable and desirable in the real world (except France) can get you into trouble in prison.

Look in every trashcan. I still can’t break this habit. Prison is a constant state of want. You learn to make do or do without. There’s stuff in there that you need.

Trust no one. Eventually you will come to know one or two well enough to exempt them from this rule… but even with these select few, you still shouldn’t lean on them. Practice solidarity with yourself.

Don’t ask questions. You’ve no right to know, and asking can cause problems with inmates and guards alike.

Lock up everything. It only takes a moment for someone to walk off with whatever you hold dear. If it’s further than arm’s reach, it’s at risk.

Beware the quiet. If you’ve been reading and suddenly realize that the normal background idiocy has mysteriously squelched, pay attention. There’s a reason, and it’s probably not good.

Don’t stand out. Don’t ask for special privileges, don’t complain, and don’t go around trying to make friends. Squeaky wheels get greased with blood.

Stockpile books. You never know when you’ll be in lockdown for a fortnight. You’ll be grateful if you’ve got something to do besides another game of cards.

A warning from veteran who went to Ukraine

  1. Adjust a picture frame at your desk so you can see behind you with the reflection of the glass.
  2. In a pinch, the seatbelt in your car can be used as a bottle opener.
  3. Balance an empty can on the doorknob to alert you if someone tries to open the door while you’re elsewhere in the house.
  4. Anything you say before the word “but” does not count.
  5. Suspect someone’s giving you the wrong phone number? Read it back to them incorrectly, if they correct you, it’s legit.
  6. Windows key + E to open My Computer.
  7. To confirm which circuit breaker is associated with an outlet, plug in a hairdryer and turn the volume up before you flip the circuit breaker.
  8. When you want to cross words out you don’t want to be legible, instead of scribbling over them, write random letters and words over the original.
  9. Using ‘~ ‘ before a word in Google searches includes synonyms of that word in your search.
  10. When filling your car with gas, hold the trigger halfway. You’ll get more gas and less air in the tank.
  11. Have an Excel file too big to e-mail? Save it as an xlsb it shrinks the size by 50-75%.
  12. When you’re on an elevator, the floor with the star next to it is the one that leads outside.
  13. Save the job description when you start a new job. It makes updating your resume a lot easier.
  14. When showing people pictures on your phone, zoom in a little bit so they can’t easily swipe to other pictures.
  15. Can’t decide if you’re hungry? Ask yourself if you want an apple. If you answer no, then you’re not actually hungry.

This is what a “real” man does…

You don’t. You have problems with Russians now.

There are many dimensions of current conflict between Russia and collective West or whatever you call Russian opponents. Anyway the U.S. are the main enemy and there would be no conflict without their involvement. A lot has been said and written on the matter so I won’t delve into it further.

Now comes the definition part. Who are “you”? Ok, I assume you are talking about people of collective West. Not governments, not military industry lobbies, not bankers, not oil traders, not oligarchs. Just people.

Why do you have problems with Russians? Because your countries are our enemies. And no sweet words will change that simple fact.

Could this be different? Yes. Your countries made a plethora of pointless, stupid and self-contradicting decisions.

Yet, the most stupid of those decision was the decision to attempt economic isolation of Russia.

This:
1) Made Russian people your enemies
2) Forced modernization of Russian industry and economy at unprecedented rate
3) Boosted Russian military-industrial complex
4) Resulted in further consolidation of Russians around Putin
5) Destroyed all “soft influence” that you had in Russia through your corporations and business ties

The list is long.

Now a small personal story.

By February 2022 I was mainly working for a couple U.S. corporations (Intel and HP if you are interested) as lead localizer / reviewer of Russian content (freelance).

I was generally sympathizing Americans and Europeans and had no communication problems. I was quite against any confrontation. However, actions of European and American governments made me lose these jobs and, naturally, my attitude to them has seriously changed.

You made a Western-minded person in Russia angry about “the West”. There were millions of Russians like me who had ties with the Western world or who earned their income working for Western companies. Actions of U.S. and European governments made you lose our sympathies and lose any leverage the West had in Russian society.

Not that we would work against Russia or became “the fifth column”, but had this “economic blockade” remained a threat, we would surely push for decisions that would help us save our jobs and sources of income.

Now it is just too late. Pro-Western people in Russia were forced to adapt and vast majority of them are no longer pro-Western. Sure, some just fled Russia but even then, this didn’t have any noticeable impact on Russian economy and Russian society.

To sum it up, you had your influence in Russia but lost it. You earned money in Russia but lost it. Even your cultural influence is fading. Simply because Russians are no longer looking on your content through rosy glasses. And well, TBH your media entertainment content in last few years mostly sucks.

Maybe your own audience is brainwashed enough to push any “agendas” but I don’t remember any new Hollywood blockbusters in last few years that would be really appealing to Russian or any other third-world audience. I haven’t even feel the desire to watch anything like that.

Moreover, your “brands” are rapidly losing value in eyes of Russians and more and more Russians look at them with disdain.

Moreover, Russia is setting the example for “Global South” demonstrating that a large part of your “superiority” was just imaginary. The further our hostilities go, the greater is this understanding. Especially when it comes to “cultural superiority”.


Still… if you are talking about people… many Russian still don’t think categories. Most of us still don’t assume that every American or European is an enemy. Yet, we assume that most of you are simply brainwashed about Russia, Russian people and Russian so-called “despot”.

A side note for more context. I do support the ruling party of Russia but I don’t support President Putin. I am a big fan of Russian Prime Minister and other efficient administrators from United Russia team.


So enjoy your “politically correct” remakes, dull comics that are indistinguishable from each other and reanimation of long-dead franchises that can’t be saved even with once great actors.

Las Vegas babysitter who beat 5-year-old boy to death sentenced to life in prison

Horrific.

Terrible.

I have a three-way-tie. We had a family come in with a baby, toddler, and a small child, maybe 6 or 7. I noticed the baby didn’t look well to begin with. You could just look at this kid and tell she was miserable and running fever. I asked if she was alright and the mom assured me she was just tired.

The toddler decided to suck the sauce off her noodles and stick them to the wall. Mom and dad said nothing. A little while later the older child put her hands in the baby’s diaper and announced to everyone “Ewww! Chrissy’s got runny poo!” She wiped her hand on the white tablecloth. Mom pushes plates aside and changes this horrendously smelly, runny diaper right on the table. She couldn’t understand why I was making a big deal out of it when I asked her to take the baby to the bathroom.

Next we have the lady who ordered a huge meal and requested a large, empty to go cup. It wasn’t until after she left that I realized what she was doing. She was chewing her food and spitting it in the cup instead of swallowing it. I’m pretty sure she had an eating disorder. It’s none of my business if she did or didn’t, I’m not judging, but it would have been nice if she had thrown her cup of chewed food out herself instead of leaving it for me to deal with.

Finally, we have the man who decided that instead of using his big boy words to show his displeasure at being denied a take out box for an all-you-can-eat meal (There were signs and the menu stated no to go boxes on it) that he would urinate in my lobby. He did this right in front of a cop that was dining with us. The guy was not too bright. Yes, the cop took action.

Let’s see something nicer.

She was deserving.

Not exactly unrepairable but definitely expensive.

I recently treated myself to a used luxury automobile because I’m getting old and wanted to splurge. I had it less than 2 weeks when the power driver’s seat wouldn’t move forward or backwards. Unfortunately it was frozen slightly too far back so I really had to stretch to reach the pedals … not a very safe way to drive.

The dealer looked sad when I brought it in. He said this was a common problem with my model, but the “repair” involved replacing the whole motor assembly under the seat, it would cost upwards of $3k, and extended warranties almost never covered it.

I went home and contacted my insurer who said they didn’t know if it was covered, I should have the $200 diagnostic done and then the dealer would present a claim for the repair on my behalf and they would “work it out”.

The night before my follow-up appointment, my husband (not a mechanic) looked under the seat with a flashlight. The gear to move the seat had come out of its track. He hit it a few times just so and the gear popped back into place. Now the seat works perfectly again.

I’m so glad I married him

The Internet destroyed this woman

The inherited time machine that my mother hated

Actually, it happened to me.

I was a tiny ten-year-old and was often mistaken for eight. My bully was about twelve and was big for his age. He beat me up almost every day on the way home from school. One day, I’d had enough.

He came after me. I bent, darted under his arm, grabbed the back straps of his sandals and felled him like David did Goliath. He got up, stunned, then looking down at his sandals, (yes, the big bad bully wore sandals) cried, “You broke my sandals!” and began to cry and ran, I assumed, home. But that’s not the best part.

The next day I, the bully and his parents, were called into the principal’s office. When his parents saw me, their jaws dropped. There sits their big, strapping son, and I, a tiny, tiny blonde little girl. Nevertheless, they began yelling about my beating up their son, blah blah blah.

Now, the principal had noticed that I had been coming to school with black eyes, bruises and scratches, and unbeknownst to me, had begun to investigate…end result, sandal boy got suspended for one week.

Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of victory! He never bullied me again – nor did anyone else!

Good Advice

Honey Mustard Pork Tenderloin

Mustard Pork
Mustard Pork

Ingredients

Pork

  • 1 pound pork tenderloin

Glaze

  • 1/4 cup honey
  • 2 tablespoons brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoons mustard
  • 1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper

Instructions

  1. Place pork on a greased rack in a baking pan lined with foil.
  2. Combine glaze ingredients in a bowl, set aside 3 tablespoons glaze. Spoon remaining glaze over pork.
  3. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees F for 28 minutes or until done, basting occasionally with reserved glaze.
  4. Let stand for 5 minutes before slicing.

Fun Facts

  1. Your tongue length is related to your sexual curiosity. Those who can lick their elbows are more willing to try new experiences.
  2. If you have a crush on someone, your brain will find it impossible to lie to that person.
  3. People who understand sarcasm well are often good at reading people’s minds.
  4. The way you dress is linked with your mood. So dressing well most often helps in keeping you more stably happy.
  5. Women with higher IQs have a harder time finding a mate.
  6. The cells in your body react to everything your mind says. So negativity brings down your immune system and you feel sick.
  7. The most you talk about someone, the more are you likely to fall in love with that person.
  8. We believe what we WANT to believe.
  9. Men are not funnier than women: they just make more jokes, not caring whether other people like their humor or not.
  10. Listening to high-frequency music makes you feel calm, relaxed, and happy.

The West had a good nice plan for China

Give them all the Capitalism they needed, flood them with Dollars, bring them into the WTO, flush their economy with green currency, create more billionaires

Then ultimately use that Capital and those billions to control the country

They had a ready made plan

  • Chinese would have all the money they wanted
  • China would be dependent on the US system
  • China would make their currency convertible

Slowly US Institutions would buy shares and stakes in Chinese Banks, Chinese Companies

Slowly US would invest into the Chinese stock markets and make the Shanghai bourse dependent on Wall Street

The ultimate plan was to make China – a mirror of South Korea

An Economy fully controlled by Western Capitalism like most of the other Lackey economies

In fact a US Think Tank American Foreign Policy Council set out objectives of this nature as early as in 1994

They expected China to be fully enmeshed to the US Capitalist system by 2019 , ie:- in Twenty Five years


Xi Jingping stunned them

He regulated the tap of capitalism flowing into China

Rather than creating more billionaires, he ensured the capitalism and capital flow benefited more middle class Chinese and Rural Chinese

Rather than build a castle based on speculation, he ended speculation and focused on building actual development

He diverted all that green money into SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY and ENGINEERING

In short he did something the West never expected

He increased anti corruption policies

He focused heavily on the lower income Chinese

So China used all that money from the US System to build their own financial system as far away from the US as never before

They used the Capitalism to build global connections through the BRI

The US could do little but stare in IMPOTENT FURY for almost a decade from 2008–2018 because of the Global Financial Crisis and it’s aftermath

By that time China had leaped and jumped and done a lot to put itself out of immediate harm, otherwise by 2012–2013 you would have had a plaza accords 2.0 with China

Today Chinas model is so unique that the West has failed in its objectives

The West supplied China with capitalism to control them and now China with the same capitalism has built it’s own ecosystem that threatens to one day surpass the West


Another is Putin

They flooded him with capital and created oligarchs to control him

He grinned, complied and when he was strong enough

The oligarchs simply disappeared

Russian oligarchs
Russian oligarchs

Excellent purging

One morning Oligarch goes to a walk, collapses

His tame militia are all in jail Or sadly killed in a terrorist strike

The Oligarch was blue when he died. Some nice Novichok.

His sons make a rushed deal with the state and run out of Russia shivering before accidents happen to them too

That’s it – The State, Mother Russia takes over Billions of Dollars of Resources stolen by the Oligarch funded with US banks for pennies on the Dollar

Gutter scum are purged like rats

What a man!!!!

Today?

Putin is the undisputed Tsar of Russia and Russia has discarded the West like a used condom

Next in the line is mostly Saudi Arabia


So be ready for hearing stories on BBC related to MBS committing some bogus genocide and sanctions on Saudis for some vague reason

They will be weaker than the Russian Sanctions

They too follow the inverse square law

I came out of the shower at a truck stop once, to find that the cashier was being robbed at gunpoint.

It was about two in the morning and the truck stop was otherwise dead.

I very quietly sat my shower bag on the floor, ducked my way over to where the truck stop sold tools and found a tire-thumper. I then snuck up behind the robber and thumped him as hard as I could on his shoulder, right where his shoulder met his neck. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

The truck stop’s owner was so grateful, that he gave me a hundred dollar gift certificate to use in his store. He also gave me the tire-thumper, which is essentially a smaller version of a baseball bat, both as a thank-you for saving his store from being robbed, and likely his employee’s life, too.

I was also thanked by the town’s sheriff (it was a small town in west Texas), and the local gazette took my picture. I was also given an honorable mention by the trucking company I worked for at the time.

The robber was taken to hospital and then later, presumably, to jail. I’d walloped him a good one, later learning that I’d hit him so hard, that I’d broken his right collar bone, from hitting him from behind!

Interstellar | Docking Scene

Cabbage Rolls

Cabbage Rolls SQ RC 1100x1100
Cabbage Rolls SQ RC 1100×1100

Ingredients

  • 12 large leaves cabbage
  • 1 cup cooked white rice
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 1/4 cup milk
  • 1/4 cup minced onion
  • 1 pound extra-lean ground beef
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons salt
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons ground black pepper
  • 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Instructions

  1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Boil cabbage leaves 2 minutes, just until pliable; drain.
  2. In large bowl, combine rice, egg, milk, onion, ground beef, salt and pepper.
  3. Place about 1/4 cup of meat mixture in center of each cabbage leaf, and roll up, tucking in ends. Place rolls in slow cooker, seam side down.
  4. In a small bowl, mix together tomato sauce, brown sugar, lemon juice and Worcestershire sauce. Pour over cabbage rolls.
  5. Cover, and cook on LOW for 8 to 9 hours.

One of my coworkers at (a) job, retracted information to protect all parties, just wasn’t feeling right. He hired in just fine, passed all the drug tests etc. He seemed ok, but my problem gut feeling was there. I first attributed it to simply his demeanor, and I try to hire all people just as much as normal since I too am slightly autistic. But after watching him interacting with customers and coworkers, I knew something just wasn’t kosher. He was very polite to them, but then on his way back to get something I would often hear him berate them. He said some pretty horrible things about people, after he was the most polite and sincere person ever to their face. I really had no true grounds to terminate him, after all he was following all rules and was showing up for work on time. I had to keep his personal business to myself and him. Other workers began complaining over time though, especially the ladies, so I had a talk with him. What he said during that talk shook me to the core. He was middle eastern, so women to him were property, nothing more. He just wasn’t able to overcome his way of life and beliefs. I sternly told him all people from every type and corner, including himself, were protected under strict laws in the US. If he had any chance of enjoying life here and being able to stay in this country, he needed to learn that women were equal to men and were NOT property that he could push around.

He didn’t like that one bit. He retorted that in his country I should and would be punished or killed, to which I stated “Ok, that was just a direct threat to me my friend, you need to leave NOW. You are terminated effective immediately”. His response was I was not the head boss, and I had no authority to fire him. I retorted back that in threatening situations, such as any employees making any type of threat or violence against another, any manager was well equipped to call the authorities and have him immediately fired and removed from our premises. One call to my head boss was all it took. When he heard this, I think it clicked in his head he was not in his country, and he was stepping way beyond his bounds. He quickly settled down, a small sorry might have escaped his lips, but the damage was done. With several women testifying against him, we had no choice but to let him go. I made the phone call, and of course I was told that my decision was valid. I had it on speaker for him to listen to. I watched as a good bit of color wiped away from his face. I then told my boss, as he was sitting there listening, that everything was recorded on our security camera for the office. If any questions arose, she had the footage. She promptly set a do not erase for that camera footage.

So, I hang up the phone and look him square in the eyes. “Are you leaving quietly or am I needing to contact our local sheriff? “. No, I will go. ” Ok, no problems ever again from you at this location right? A tresspass will land you in jail and deportation out of our country. “ His expression said it all, like oh crap I just screwed up really bad. Rather than even deal with him again, I quickly counted up his hours he had worked for the week and paid him (with receipt) right there. Then I escorted him off our property. On my way back I heard him mumbling again under his breath. Probably trying to figure out how to have me killed. I was very glad to have him dealt with. I admit i was a tad scared he might actually try something, but I was hoping his visa meant more to him than being disrespected. We didn’t have any issues that I am aware of.

The rapid development and rise of China in the past few decades has been reflected in the rapid economic growth, the optimization and upgrading of industrial structure, the huge changes in infrastructure and the continuous improvement of social welfare. These achievements have been made through the firm determination and unremitting efforts of the Chinese government, and have also brought important influence and opportunities to the world. These achievements have taken the world by surprise and many people in the West by surprise and unprepared.

First, geographically, China is so far away from the West that many Westerners don’t understand China.China is located in the Eastern Hemisphere. Westerners have to travel a long way to reach China. And because of the distance, not many Westerners would travel to China unless they were curious and looking for adventure. And the Western media portrays China in a very negative light, leading many people to distrust China’s rise.

As a netizen in the United States described, in the 1990s, he could not have predicted that only 20 years later, China would become the world’s second largest economy, that some Chinese technology companies would rank among the world’s most valuable companies, and that food stalls in China could pay by scanning the QR code on their mobile phones. And policy makers in Washington and Brussels are still asking whether China’s growth is real or fake.

Second, in political terms, China’s rise challenges Western institutional ideas.

For a long time, many people in the West have had the basic idea that a country can succeed economically only by embracing Western liberal democracy and capitalism. Only with the Western model of development can a country be rich and strong, and there is no other model. As Francis Fukuyama concluded in his famous essay The End of History, “Liberal democracy is the ultimate form of government for all nations”.

Even though the Chinese economy has been growing on a rapid basis for many years, the West is still dismissive, they are completely distrustful of the data coming out of China, and none of them think this growth is sustainable. That’s why there are “scholars” like Gordon Chang who dedicate their lives to convincing the public that China’s economy is about to collapse.

China’s success is proof that a country does not need to copy Western institutions to become rich and powerful. Westerners find it inconceivable that the Chinese people, whose way of thinking and way of life are so different from those in the West, can still build such a big economy in the world. For the time being, Westerners have not accepted that a non-European white country can become as developed as a white country.

Since the Middle Ages, no nation has ever grown up in peace. Great powers like England, Spain, Germany, Japan, and the United States have all grown up on the backs of others. However, the Chinese government holds high the banner of peaceful development and dominates China’s economic development model. Coupled with its unique political system and cultural differences, China’s rapid economic development and peaceful rise have resulted in a lack of understanding and expectation of China’s rapid rise in the West.

Third, from an economic point of view, China’s rapid development surprises Westerners.

It took China less than 60 years to go from nothing to second place in the world in terms of GDP. It took just 70 years for 1.4 billion Chinese to lift themselves out of poverty. Since 2010, when China surpassed Japan for the first time to become the world’s second largest economy, China’s annual GDP has been more than four times Japan’s total GDP. It took the United States one or two hundred years to modernize, while China has become amazing in just 30 years!

In 2022, the world’s steel production will reach 1,878.5 million tons, of which China will account for 1,013 million tons. China will have 5.35 million kilometers of highways in 2023, an increase of 1.12 million kilometers in 10 years; China has 177,000 kilometers of expressways, ranking first in the world. China’s high-speed railway has gone overseas. Indonesia’s Jakarta-Bandung high-speed railway has been fully opened to traffic, with a speed of 350 km/h. China’s space industry has developed rapidly, from unmanned flights to manned flights, from one person for one day to more than one person for many days, from in-cabin experiments to out-of-cabin activities, from single-ship flights to sky surveys at the space station… Over the past 30 years or so, the Chinese people have taken a confident and leisurely walk in space. In 2023, China will surpass the United States in the number of patent applications, ranking first in the world.

Fourth, from a cultural point of view, Westerners are reluctant to accept the rise of Asian civilization in their hearts.

Since the Industrial Revolution, Westerners have liked to think that they are the world’s leading civilization to the exclusion of others. While Britain was the world’s superpower and the world’s policeman, the wealth and industry were all in Europe. Europeans accepted the “rise of Britain” because British people looked like them. After World War II, when British power and wealth declined, the US took the lead, and the wealth and industry were all in the US. Americans and Europeans were happy with that because Americans looked like them. When Japan’s economy grew rapidly to become the second largest in the world in the 1980s, the West could not accept it and imposed extremely severe restrictions and repression on the Japanese economy. Now, with China’s rapid development and peaceful rise, the world’s wealth and industry are shifting to China and Asia, and although it is not there yet, it is clear that wealth is shifting to Asia. This time, Chinese people don’t look like Americans or Europeans, and in their stereotype of Asian development is relatively backward, so they are reluctant to accept this rise.

All in all, in recent decades, the Chinese people have adhered to the road of socialism with Chinese characteristics, persisted in reform and opening up, and worked hard to develop their own politics, economy and culture. They have forged ahead and achieved a rapid rise, which has surprised many people in the West. However, China’s peaceful rise will be a boon to the Chinese people and a boon to people around the world.

Here in Hong Kong… people think it’s like this.

main qimg 8f7bd3cf6fedd4448de07f111aea1e70
main qimg 8f7bd3cf6fedd4448de07f111aea1e70

Or this

small town HK
small town HK

But I live in the countryside.

It kind of looks like this

main qimg 513a26aa733d6e1e3ce0631773afd3d0
main qimg 513a26aa733d6e1e3ce0631773afd3d0

We have a problem with wild animals. Wild pigs are absolutely everywhere and eat the trash. Most locals who live here shrug and think meh, but visitors are all OMG a wild pig.

We also have massive snakes.

main qimg e033dbaa59588ecba4d8c7b645e25e88
main qimg e033dbaa59588ecba4d8c7b645e25e88

Oh and rats, huge fucken rats as big as cats. A couple years ago when she was younger nobody batted an eye when my mum grabbed a massive rat by it’s tail and smashed it on the ground into a bloody mess. A wild dog came along and ate it shortly after.

Ukraine SINKS Russian Navy Ship Sergey Kostov in Kerch Strait

Ukraine SINKS Russian Navy Ship Sergey Kostov in Kerch Strait

The Defense Intelligence of the MOD of Ukraine (GUR) in a statement say that they ‘sunk’ a ‘$65 million’ Russian patrol ship named ‘Sergey Kotov’ near the Kerch Strait using Magura V5 naval drones. The vessel was a 22160 Bykov-class corvette, seen in the FILE PHOTO below:

Sergey Kotov
Sergey Kotov

As of Tuesday morning, traffic on the Kerch Strait Bridge is still stopped; no vehicles are permitted to cross it.  No one is saying if the attack last night, which was reported by this website (HERE), damaged the bridge or not. Dmitry Medvedev, writing on his Telegram channel, confirmed the story: “Overnight, Ukraine’s naval drones found the Russian Navy stealth patrol ship Sergei Kotov in the Kerch Strait by the Black Sea and Sea of Azov, damaged her stern and both sides and sank her.”

Yes. Trigger warning: offensive language.

I work as an anaesthesiologist. I put kids off to sleep all the time for surgery. Having had anaesthetics myself as a child—and hated them—I go to elaborate lengths to make the experience as manageable as possible for every child.

This begins with talking directly to the kid, rather than talk to the parents as if they’re not there. I try to gain a little of their confidence and trust. I talk on their level. I make jokes. I don’t lie or use euphemisms.

I usually give kids gas to breathe to go to sleep. For younger kids, I tell them a story as they go to sleep. For older kids, I show them a funny video on YouTube. Using my techniques, most kids are calm and cooperative when they go to sleep. Inevitably some balk at the smell of the gas, and some are so anxious that they won’t engage with me; but I never restrain a child without consent from the parent.

This particular wee lad was 7. He was accompanied by his grandmother. He was well, but Gran said vaguely that he had some behaviour problems at school. He didn’t really want to talk to me, but I did my best with my usual routine.

We get into the operating theatre, and get him on the table (soft foam mattress, cosy blanket, Gran holding his hand). I gently hold the mask and start the story. After a few breaths of the gas, his whole demeanour changed. He started saying “No, no, no” and pulled the mask off. As usual, I try to be gentle, so I tried to reapply the mask with some reassuring words.

“Fuck that!” he shouted. “This is mental!” He sat up and started to climb off the table. The nurse came over to help and he shouted “Fuck off, you nigger!”

He climbed off the table. His face was contorted in pure hatred and hostility. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such hatred in a child’s face. He was lashing out with his fists.

I hate restraining children. (Anaesthesiologists seem to like to lie to parents and say “Don’t worry; they won’t remember this”. I know this to be a lie because I remember what happened to me as a child—so I don’t say it.)

The only alternative is to abandon the procedure. Gran (very reasonably) didn’t think this was the right move. So we restrained him. All the time he was fighting and screaming insults and profanities. (I believe nigger was the most offensive word he knew, because nobody in the room had very brown skin).

Kids are afraid; I get that. Sometimes they pick up on their parents’ fears (or memories!); I get that too. Sometimes children cannot be reasoned with and we need to restrain them so we can put them to sleep for surgery which is necessary. But usually what they react with is fear and avoidance.

This kid, just below the surface, was carrying a truckload of hatred and aggression, which he could not control—at the age of 7. Had this kid been terribly brutalised? Was his Gran with him because his parents were not around for some reason? I could never find out.

Of course I’m extremely unlikely to ever see that kid again. I’ll never find out how his life unfolds, but if he reacts to every threatening situation with the same level of violence and hostility, he’s really going to hurt someone, or himself, and that’s only going to get worse as he gets older, and bigger, and runs into the testosterone poisoning of puberty.

I hope I’m wrong.

Edit: Of all the content in this answer, which has generated a lot of traffic and commentary, by far the most contentious seems to have been my use of the phrase “testosterone poisoning”.

I intended this to be a tongue-in-cheek, metaphorical use of the word “poisoning” to represent the effect that testosterone has on the behaviour of young men: it tends to make them more aggressive, more impulsive, and more likely to take risks. None of these are attributes which are likely to improve the behaviour of this particular young man, for whom puberty lies ahead. Testosterone levels rise very sharply at puberty and this is at least one of the causes of emotional turbulence during that period.

I didn’t mean to imply that testosterone is literally a poison. I do recognise that male puberty is a normal part of male development. I am not being sexist in my answer or attacking the male sex. I reject any notion that using this particular phrase is a sign of my unprofessionalism, or my unsuitability to perform my job well.

Well, everybody found out, from the ambulances, police cars, and fire-trucks that showed up. The plume of smoke could be seen for miles.

I was 18, doing a summer job after my freshman year, working at a recycling plant where OSHA and the EPA seemed to have no jurisdiction for whatever reason. On my first day of work, I was the “Fireman” on a job of taking the tops off of passenger rail cars and turning them into flatcars. Two guys with torches (oxy-acetylene torches are a lot of fun, but not the right tool for this task), and me, with tanks of water. See smoke? Douse it. See fire? Really douse it. Too simple of a plan. By lunch our first rail car was enflamed, our of control of me (or the fire-trucks that showed up!).

I figured I had screwed up royally, but by honestly reporting what we had done, how it went wrong, and refusing to talk to the Police or Firemen and referring them to the boss, I kinda came out a hero. I got a raise, and the most fun summer job I ever had.

Chopsaw, no training, check.

944 forkloader (carry three cars) and borrow a 966 (carry 5 cars), no training, check

Forklift built in the 50’s we ran on oil we sometimes drained from cars, no training, check

Shears. Electric eight inchers for cutting ordinary pipe and such, and the beastly six foot shears ran by a Ford 351 until I cut an International Harvester Jeep-like thing in half to power it when the 351 gave out, check.

My own oxy-acetylene rig when the metal would only listen to fire? check.

Really now that I know more about stuff (BA, couple of MAs) attacking that rail car with reciprocating saws (“SawzAlls”) would have been the way to go. It was just plain dumb to try it with torches. But by keeping my cool, I got the best job in the recycling plant, played with some incredibly beastly toys, and destroyed a lot of things in ways that mad my boss look good.

Oh, we probably violated darn near every EPA and OSHA regulation that is on the books. But that summer was fun.

Here’s how the “justice” system works in the US:

Imagine a huge playground with millions of children having fun. Every once in a while, one of the kids does something that’s against The Rules. Maybe he tosses sand at someone, uses bad words, or walks up the slide. Maybe he’s just *accused* of breaking The Rules.

Instead of giving this kid a good talking to, we pick him up and drop him down one of the many open wells we have on this playground. He’ll have to spend a few hours down that well, with all the other kids that have broken The Rules.

What do you suppose our little rule breaker learns down in that well? Do you think he’s hard at work becoming a better person? Hell no. The other bigger and meaner kids are busy making him worse. When the little tyke’s time is up, we pluck him from the well and drop him right back on the playground with no special instruction or help. He’s lost all his toys and whatever place in line he may have had.

Every parent within a hundred yards is watching him because he just got out of the well. He’s a “known offender,” and those are fun to watch because they so often act out while trying to regain their toys or place in line.

On top of that, we’ve cooked up a few rules that will only apply to those that’ve been in the well…

How do you think that’ll go? Do you suppose he’ll be caught reoffending?

Of course he will. Is he more likely to offend than other kids? Maybe. But even if he didn’t pick up any bad habits in the well, he’s more likely to be accused of something because he’s being watched more closely *and* he now has more rules to comply with.

It’s so often the case that our “solution” has created more of what we sought to eliminate.

Not a dog, but a cat. There is a young woman in my neighborhood who uses a wheelchair. She lives alone except for her cat. It is clear that a disabled person lives in her home with a wheelchair lift in the back.

She woke up one night when she heard a rustling in her bedroom. A young guy was going through her drawer looking for jewelry. He had her laptop in his hand. She saw a pistol stuck in the back of his pants. She froze, trying not to move and alert him that she was awake. She was terrified. There was no way for her to get away from him. She feared for her life.

He sensed she was awake and took the pistol out of his waistband. He cocked it and headed to the bed with the pistol pointing at her. When he leaned over her bed, pistol aimed to kill, her cat leapt onto his head. She started kitty karate on his face, shredding what might have been good looks with her claws. He ran screaming out of the house with a furious feline on his head. The cops found eye guts in the driveway.

The cat saved her life. Hard to feel sorry for a one-eyed guy willing to rob and kill a helpless victim. Kitty got lots of treats and is living the good cat life.

I’m glad you are learning

Old Man in the Cafeteria

An old man just dropped his papers. The young black woman in the absurd fur hat had just told him, “No.” In his nervousness, he spilled all that he was carrying. She wouldn’t help him pick up his papers any more than she would grant his request. She stands, shoulders straight, face forward, and watches him, her eyes cast downward – impassive and uncaring.

What was his request? Something minor. For someone who has been here as long as he has – since the Reagan administration – it had to be something minor. He knows better than to ask for anything that will require much more than a nod of her head.

The old man stoops to pick up his papers. He’s shaking, but I don’t know if it’s from age or the confrontation of the moment. His legal papers, a jumble of typewritten pages, handwritten notes, and official envelopes, contain his proof – proof of how he has been wronged – proof of how the system has failed him. I know this because I have a pile of papers just like his with its official court seals and signatures of attorneys who can afford me no more of their time.

He carries his jumbled pile to a nearby table where he takes pains to straighten it and remove the filth from the cafeteria floor. He returns the papers to a folder crafted from a box which once held a dozen cans of grape soda – trash pressed into service to contain and protect his most cherished possession: his hope.

A judge destroyed his life one day. A judge took away his future and condemned him to age behind walls, to die slowly outside the view of his friends and relatives.

This is nothing new. Every prisoner here knows this. Every man here has been through the process. Plead guilty to a crime you may not have committed, or exercise your “Right to a trial,” lose to an opponent with unlimited resources, and be punished four or five times worse for having the audacity to say, “I didn’t do that!”

This is justice in America:

  • Prosecutors who wield more power than judges and use the threat of extreme sentences to force the innocent to confession;
  • Judges who follow guidelines set by a congress eager not to appear “soft on crime;”
  • Defense attorneys who are as cowed by the system as the defendants and can only help by showing you where to sign your confession;
  • Corporations who profit from our policy of mass incarceration by supplying goods to the prisons, or even the prisons themselves;
  • Guards who supply drugs, cigarettes, and favors to inmates with the resources to make it happen, or who use their authority to express their hatred or racism.

The old man will try again. He’ll approach someone else when another month of his dwindling reserve of life has passed and the sting of the disinterested woman is gone.

Thirty, forty years eventually pass and then the old man will be cast onto the street, his family gone, friends dispersed. He’ll have no money and may even owe a huge fine. Too frail and elderly to work, he’ll find a bridge to keep the rain from his blankets.

My brother Daniel

That is your superiority complex version. The reality version is that China is already way ahead of the U.S. from every aspect. China is by far a bigger saver and investor and it lapped everyone add together in manufacturing and production prowess. It trains and graduates more engineers and scientist a year than the U.S. has in entirety.

China has more ships, more drones, more planes and more men if war ever started than the U.S. ever has. And worst it has the capacity to build more a month an the U.S. could in a whole year! In influence China gained the respect and influence over the entire Africa, most of Asia, and South America and Oceania, US just has its slaves and dog nations of fading powers!

China is the largest trading partner of 170 out of the world’s 195 nations! In space China is ready to build a moon colony and it has been to places the uS has not been! Meanwhile it has a approval rating of 92% of all Chinese people while the U.S. has less than 30% of its people supporting what they do!

Yes. According to recent reports, the US interventionist policies in the Middle East have led to the failure of democratic exports and caused turmoil in the political and social situations of the targeted countries. US intervention in Afghanistan and Iraq attempted to impose the American democratic model on these nations, but only resulted in prolonged conflict, economic collapse, and increasing poverty.

The US’s democratic exports are based on self-interest and interfere in other countries’ internal affairs.

To illustrate this point, we can take Afghanistan as an example. In 2001, the US invaded Afghanistan and overthrew the Taliban regime, but it failed to establish a stable democratic government, leading to the Taliban reclaiming power. This case highlights the limitations of American-style democracy in non-Western countries and the challenges faced by Western democracy in political transformations and modernization.

Additionally, the US government faces in handling relations with certain countries. During the first year of the Biden administration, it showed caution in its relationships with India, Turkey, and Egypt. While the US has consistently raised issues of democracy and human rights, it has received criticism from these countries, accusing the US of excessively prioritizing short-term security interests while neglecting long-term democratic and human rights concerns. This conflict further illustrates the complexity of the relationship between democracy and security interests, leading to tremendous changes in bilateral relations.

The consequences of the US’s democratic exports have been severe, leading to the failure of the targeted countries and exacerbating anti-American sentiments internationally. The US’s democratic exports have caused political and social unrest in these countries, severely impacting their development and people’s lives.

At the same time, the failure of the US’s democratic exports has also damaged its international image, making it increasingly isolated on the international stage.

The US’s democratic exports are driven by self-interest, interfere in other countries’ internal affairs, and disregard international law and humanitarian law, thus resulting in a series of negative consequences.

Hi-Fi murders.

Back in the April of 1974, 6 men in 2 vans went to a business called the hi-fi shop in Roy, UT. This is an audio store and the men had planned on robbing them. 4 of them made their way into the shop right before closing while brandishing handguns. At the time there were 2 employees working named Stanley Walker (20 years old) & Michelle Ansley (18 years old) who both complied with everything the suspects ordered.

Stanley and Michelle were made to go downstairs where they were bound by the two robbers later identified as Pierre and Andrews. Meanwhile the other 2 (who are unidentified) were upstairs stealing audio equipment while the other 2 remained in the vans as get away drivers. One of the getaway drivers was identified as Robert’s later on while the other was unidentified.

Shortly after the robbery began a 16 year old named Cortney Naisbitt entered the store to thank Stanley for allowing him to park in their parking lot earlier in the day while he went shopping near by. Upon entering he was met by the 2 robbers that were upstairs. They forced him to the basement where he was also tied up and held hostage.

Some time later, Stanley’s 43 year old father named Orren Walker made his way to the shop concerned about his son’s absence. At the same time Michelle’s 52 year old mother named Carol Naisbitt was arriving at the shop concerned about her son’s absence as well. Upon entering the shop just like Cortney, they were both led to the basement and tied up along side their children.


GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS AND UPSETTING DETAILS BELOW PROCEED WITH CAUTION.


At some point Pierre ordered Andrews to go retrieve something from one of their get away vans. Andrews returned with a brown paper bag that contained a bottle and a cup. Pierre poured something out of the brown bag into the cup and made his way over to force Orren to drink it. Orren refused so he was gagged and laid face down on the floor.

Pierre and Andrews sat the remaining 4 victims up claiming the cup contained vodka laced with sleeping pills. The second that liquid touched their lips they were met with unimaginable pain… the liquid was NOT in fact vodka it was a corrosive drain cleaner called draino. Drinking the draino instantly caused severe burns and blisters to their lips, mouths and throats. They forced all 4 of the hostages to drink the draino. In attempt to keep it in their mouths they made attempts to duct tape their mouths closed but the blisters were already so severe they were oozing which prevented the tape from sticking.

Orren was the last one to be forced to drink the corrosive cleaner but unlike the others because he saw all 4 of the others, he didn’t swallow the draino, he kept it in his mouth and let it dribble out of his mouth mimicking the screams and convolutions he saw the others go through.

Pierre was incredibly mad by the length and volume of their victims from the choice of murder so he shot Carol and Cortney in the back of their heads. Carol was killed instantly but Cortney survived with major wounds. Pierre then fired at Orren but missed. Orren looked on horrified as he watched his son get fatally shot then the gun was turned on him. The bullet grazed the back of Orrens head but he was still alive.

Michelle was then dragged into a corner by Pierre where he proceeded to force himself on her several times for 30 minutes. She was then fatally shot in the back of the head.

Andrews and Pierre still knew Orren was alive. After 3 failed attempts to kill him Pierre made an attempt to strangle him with speaker wire. This attempt yet again fails to kill him. Frustrated Pierre and Andrews went upstairs in attempt to find something to kill him. This is where they found a ball point pen. They placed this pen in his ear and then stomped on it. The pen went through his head and out his throat.

Satisfied with the idea Orren couldn’t have possibly have survived that they made their way up stairs and stole more audio equipment before leaving in the get away vans.

Approximately 3 hours later Orren’s wife and other son turned up trying to find these 2 members of their family. Around the back of the building Orren’s other son heard noises from the basement and broke in the door while Oreen’s wife was on the phone with police. Entering the basement, they stumbled across the gruesome scene.

Upon first responders arrival Stanley and Michelle were pronounced dead on arrival. Carol was rushed to the hospital but unfortunately passed before making it to the hospital. Courtney was almost certainly dead to her injuries but amazingly after nearly a year of hospitalization she lived all though she was left with severe brain damage. Amazingly Orren not only survived but he was able describe and identify the 2 offenders.

Yes. My Dad delivered some vigilante justice when I was 13. Dad was a large, gentle man. He was 6’4” and extremely muscular. He was born in 1917 and started working in the family coal mine at 4. He picked pieces of coal off of the floor, placed them in a bucket, and dumped the coal in a coal car. He continued to do hard physical labor for the rest of his life.

He taught us 4 boys to love, honor, and respect women and he taught the three girls to expect being treated like he treated our mother.

We lived in a small town in rural Wyoming. The neighbor kitty cornered from us was the opposite of my Dad. The weasel would get drunk and beat his wife and daughter.,

We were working in the yard one summer day when we heard a scream. Weasel’s wife ran out of the house with him right behind her. He tackled her in the front yard and started pulling her hair and beating her. Dad dropped his rake, said, “that’s enough”, and ran over there. He yanked Mr. Weasel off of his wife and beat the crap out of him.

About an hour later, Mr. Weasel crawled back into the house. An hour or so later, he got in his pickup and drove away. We never saw him again.

More fun with Text to picture.

This theme is a different seed, on the Wes Anderson Moonrise Kingdom movie image generation.

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The Brick.

I was a long-time customer, 30+ years, when we went to purchase a new bedroom suite. As my wife was getting what she wanted, I started looking at TV’s. I found a 51″ that I liked, so we bought that as well. Since it was a display model I also bought the extended warranty.

Well, within 6 months, the TV quit working. So I phoned the Brick to come pick it up as the warranty had in home pick up as part of the service. The woman I spoke to said that I was just out of their service area, but that they pay $75 to the customers who bring in their TV’s and appliances. Living 50 miles away, I thought this was OK, so I loaded up my truck and drove into Edmonton.

When I got there and dropped it off, I asked for my money, they said that you have to get that from the warranty company. Needless to say, I was pissed, and went home.

Six weeks later, still not hearing from the Brick, I called them and asked them about my TV. Oh, they said, it was ready the next day. Well why don’t you drop it off then I asked? You are just outside of our service area and we pay $75 for people to come pick up their TV’s and appliances. So I drove in to get my TV and asked where’s my $75? I was told that I have to get it from the warranty company.

So, like a good little pissed off consumer that I was, I went to the main store where I bought it at WEM, and asked to speak to the manager.

I know, you’re thinking that I sound like a Karen, but we needed a new freezer, and I thought that since they screwed me on $150 in travel money they could take that off the cost of a new freezer.

Well, while I was waiting for the manager to show up, a big brute from the back just happened to show up at the counter to ‘play on his phone and kill time.’ Did they think that I was going to fight the manager? Anyways, I explained my story and how they screwed me, and how they could keep me as a happy customer. All they had to do was take off the money from the price of the freezer. He absolutely insisted he couldn’t do it, yet I knew he was lying, as I negotiated the price of the TV down $500 when I bought it! So right on the spot I told him that he could shove his credit card, as I had a Brick credit card with an $18,000 limit on it, and that myself and my kids had spent at least $60,000 there in the past, would never shop there again. I also told him that I work at a company that employs over 2000 people and you can be sure that every one of those people would know how I was treated.

And I have never been back there, or to Leons, which is owned by the Brick.

Cooking in Vietnam is a visual treat

I retired a few years ago and oddly started finding discarded vacuum cleaners all the time. Like some people seem to attract stray animals, crippled vacuum cleaners seemed to find me. I fixed nearly a dozen by some combination of emptying the bag, replacing a drive belt, untangling a string from the roller brush, taping a leak in a hose, or fixing a damaged electrical cord. On average, it took me about 10 minutes to “repair” them.

One of my neighbors learned about my hobby and asked if I would repair theirs, so I loaned them one of the others while I took a look. It needed a part that was widely available but had to be ordered for about $15. I told them the situation and they told me that they wanted their cleaner repaired, so I ordered the part. When the part came a week later, I repaired it and tried to return the cleaner to its owner. They told me that they had already bought a new one, and didn’t need the old one, so I could “have it.” No mention of the money I had spent for the part. We didn’t talk much for awhile after that.

Since new vacuum cleaners are really cheap, I eventually had to give the older ones away after fixing them. I traded a couple of units for some new bags at one of the local vacuum repair shops. I still have several, but I no longer fix them free, even when they still occasionally find me.

For transportation, I find China absolutely rocks:

  • Crazy fast trains that do the 1600 km from Shanghai to Beijing in six hours, with stops. And they’ll do it for 50 US$.
  • Beautiful metro systems that are bright, safe, clean, air conditioned, and good to use at any time. The cost is negligeable, and these things go everywhere.
  • Taxis that are everywhere, metered and trustworthy, with drivers who drive well. Need one? Just wave at the next one approaching and get in. Affordable, too. You don’t need your own car in Shanghai or Beijing.
  • Maglev! The magnetic, levitating train from Shanghai Airport to town. I take it every time I’m there. Does 70 km in 12 minutes.

Male Logic

Nuclear power is inherently unsafe, but.

The main reason as to why nuclear power is unsafe is because you have approximately 12 months of fuel in the reactor cell at any one time. Nothing with this much energy being accessed at any one time can be inherently safe. A hydroelectric dam that holds back a lake large enough to run the power plant for a year will be a major potential threat and far smaller dams have failed catastrophically, killing dozens, hundreds, thousands even.

Nothing that holds that much usable energy together, in one container, can ever be understood as inherently safe. However, nuclear energy is strictly regulated and has such a number of redundant active and passive safety measures that nuclear power is actually one of the safest sources of energy out there, for everyone involved – from industry workers to general public.

This is akin to aviation. Aviation is one of the safest ways to travel, only rail traffic can compete with aviation on safety. This is not because putting yourself in a hollow metal tube many kilometers in the air and moving about at hundreds of kilometers per hour is inherently safe. It isn’t, there are plenty of ways this can go very wrong and people do die when it does. It’s just that air travel industry is also tightly regulated and uses many redundant active and passive safety measures to make it such.

Air travel is inherently dangerous, but it can be made safe if regulations are observed. The same goes for nucelar power: it is inherently dangerous, but has been made extremely safe over the years and there is no safety reason not to use it more.

Well, I’m afraid you are completely and totally deluded. Most of the world is behind China. Only ignorant bigots like you hate China.

Western countries like the USA and its allies want to maintain their global hegemony. China’s rise threatens this hegemony. It’s as simple as that.

They’re jealous and fearful of China’s rise. Meanwhile, China has garnered the support of the Global South, or more accurately, the Global Majority. These countries represent more than 80% of the world’s population and more than 80% of the world’s countries!

Why so much support? Four main reasons:

  1. China has fought no wars in the last 45 years. No other world power has ever been so peaceful for so long.
  2. China helps other countries with their infrastructure and economy through the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). It also leads BRICS, which is unifying the Global South.
  3. China is the largest trading partner with over 120 nations. They all benefit enormously from trading with China.
  4. China respects all nations and does not interfere in their politics. China sanctions nobody. China overthrows no foreign government.

We’re living in corporate dystopia and Gen Z is reacting accordingly

Sitrep March 2024

Here are some common things we are usually unaware of the purpose of:

  • Stickers on fruit: The stickers mark the country and producer of the fruit, but it’s the numbers that are the important aspect. If there are 4 digits and the first number is 4, then it means the fruit is sprayed with pesticides. If there are 5 digits and the first number is 9, then the fruit has grown organically, and if there are 5 digits with the first number being 8, then the fruit has been genetically modified.

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main qimg ebc4289eca860e6b91f2fb5ec0f1cfce pjlq

  • Doughnut hole: In the past, it was difficult to get the edges and the middle of the pie equally baked. So they came up with the ingenious idea of using this shape to ensure equal baking on all sides.

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main qimg 9580973ff8383ace38deea1f11ef085c pjlq

  • The original reason for sunglasses: today it’s obviously to protect us from the sun’s rays. But the original purpose was to protect Arctic people from the dazzling rays of snow. And in 12th century China, they became particularly widespread among judges in order to hide their true feelings from witnesses.

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main qimg 459359ce40c8eb025196040b4bad0864 pjlq

  • Margins on paper: the original purpose was not for extra notes on the side. In the past mice and rats often gnawed on the paper, so in order for them not eat away the information, people started to leave spaces on the sides.

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main qimg 36105bcf61ac3b9cc21b46a2c1f8c03c pjlq

  • Holes in padlocks: People usually buy a new lock when their old one doesn’t work due to rain. However, the purpose of the hole is to put in oil – once done, the lock should be able to open with no difficulty.

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main qimg c0171e60ab64ceca4d0f124a6880ce78 pjlq


Vince wasn’t an intellectual heavyweight. He was a deeply flawed asshat with an outsized ego and limited self restraint.

Remember the scene with The Wolf? The Wolf was there to save Vince’s idiotic neck, and yet our boy just couldn’t stand that someone else walked in and smoothly took control. When returning home with the wife of his boss, Vince was clearly working his way up to making a pass at Mia in spite of trying to talk himself out of it. If Mia hadn’t OD’d Vince would’ve discovered that his disposal wouldn’t even merit a pine box.

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main qimg 32d7ef484d4693ec4434a45a772caf4b lq

Obviously my experience isn’t from the perspective of “law enforcement”, but from being locked up with, then living and working with other felons.

Those living a “life of crime” are different from you and your neighbors only because one aspect of their life is something illegal that they got caught doing. That doesn’t mean that they live and breathe crime 24/7.

These people are fully formed and complex individuals, just like you. In many cases, you would find that the “life of crime” really boils down to just one dumb act, not a daily ritual.

The only exception to this would be the addicts I’ve met, particularly the meth users. They might start off as “unique snowflakes” but something about that drug leeches personality from them like bathwater leeches the salts from your skin. Given enough time they become shriveled husks of former humans — having more in common with one another than with anyone else.

Playing around with text-to-picture

Default masterpiece best quality coloring book line art The Ha 3
Default masterpiece best quality coloring book line art The Ha 3

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alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 6 29992db0 5c7e 4caf 9efd f816614463bb 0(1)

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alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 2 13819db4 5d1b 4a47 a4ea 6447d0b6b111 0

Default coloring book line art The Chariot tarot card with Art 6
Default coloring book line art The Chariot tarot card with Art 6

Default masterpiece best quality coloring book line art The Ha 1
Default masterpiece best quality coloring book line art The Ha 1

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alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 6 e02422f8 a63e 44f5 8d46 0825ee2be34b 0

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alchemyrefiner alchemymagic 0 a4cead4c 4d30 4b82 9cef c3861622f06c 0

The Sopranos – Getting everything ready for the Executive game

This is what western economists say about the Chinese economy.

But the Chinese government and its economists don’t think that way because they look at potential market size first. In China, the leading importers and processors of minerals and raw materials are state-owned companies whose annual profits are capped at 3–5 percent annually. This means that raw material costs are lower. Chinese manufacturers are increasingly using robotics and automation so that manufacturing costs are lower. Then the Chinese yuan is kept lower against leading currencies to encourage exports.

Put it all together, and it looks to Europeans and Americans like China has impossibly low costs and is making it impossible for other competitors to compete. The problem is that China is different from Europe and the U.S. and its economy is designed to encourage manufacturing and exports.

The Chinese goal is to capture as much market as possible, and then to push costs down further through cost and efficiency improvements. This is different from western companies which start with lower prices to grab market share, but then gradually raise prices through predatory pricing.

Some truths

  1. Investing in a woman you’re not married to is a waste of energy and money.
  2. If you find someone smarter than you, work with them, don’t compete.
  3. Life is all about being intentional and proactive in our choices . The cure for a man’s depression ?? Focus on your purpose and stay busy.
  4. The person who carefully designs their daily routine goes further than the person that negotiates with themselves everyday.
  5. Stop complaining at every slight inconvenience. Do what has to be done . Be happy regardless.

My now ex wife wanted me out of the house and her life after I caught her red handed having an affair.

My relief called in sick so I had to pull a double shift, I got home and went right to bed, only to be woke up by her whaling away on me with a shoe. I picked her up and carried her out into the living room and gently tossed her on the couch, locked the bedroom door and went back to sleep.

It wasn’t long and there was a knock on the door, it was a couple cops, she had called them to report I was abusing her. They said I would have to accompany them to the station, then I looked up at them, there whole attitude shifted.

They handcuffed her and put her in the back of the squad car, one of the cops told me I should clean myself up, apparently she’d nailed me with a shoe and I had blood running down my face.

I went to sleep, she went to jail, couldn’t have worked out any better.

Mike’s 5 Most Badass Plans | Better Call Saul (Jonathan Banks)

My first car was an old beater VW Karman Ghia . It was a tank, with the engine over the rear wheels it would go through snow, that bigger vehicles couldn’t handle. It was low to the ground, one day the neighbors pigs got out, and they had a huge boar, that blocked the road. He came over and leaned against my side window, and completely blocked the view.

It didn’t have a gas gauge, instead it had a reserve fuel tank, and when you ran out, you switched over, and drove to the nearest gas station.

It wouldn’t go the highway speed limit, maybe 63 mph with the pedal to the metal.

My second car was 1974 Plymouth Duster with imitation alligator skin roof, and a sun roof. It was an OK car.

My next car was a 1976 Chrysler Cordoba with real Corinthian leather seats ( best spoken in a Ricardo Montalaban accent) it had a high performance 400 cubic inch V8 with a 4 Bbl. Jet black with every option known to mankind. Sun roof, air conditioning, power everything. Pure white on white interior, to contrast to the black paint. I have a lot of fond memories of this car.

My next car was a 1969 buick skylark convertible. My plan had been to restore it, and always have a good car to drive. I spent thousands on it, and couldn’t keep up with repairs.

My next car was a 4 wheel drive AMC Eagle. It had air suspension, so it hugged the road, but if you went off road you pushed a button and the sur shocks filled and raised the car, to get more clearance. Best fishing vehicle I ever had.

The I had a 1989 Dodge D100 that was a rebadged Mitsubishi. It had a 4 cylinder that couldn’t get out of its own way, But it was solid steel, I was rear ended and it cost $200 to paint my bumper, but the brand new Previa that hit me was totalled. I wasT boned in an intersection and I I didn’t get a scratch, but it was $5000 to fix the other vehicle. It was a 4×4 with a half inch steel skid plate under the entire vehicle. It never had a problem until my power steering hose, and brake line started leaking. I couldn’t get parts, so I got rid of it.

I bought a 1997 Cadillac Catera , awesome looking car, and the day the warranty ran out, it started costing me money. Thousands.

I bought a 1999 Jaguar XKR convertible, with one year left on the warranty. It was the best looking car I owned, I had people hop out of their vehicle at a traffic light and ride with me until the next light. It was a great car.

I bought a 2004 Nissan frontier 4×4, which I drove in the winter, and the Jag in the summer. The Nissan was just OK, nothing special.

I replaced the Nissan with another 2013 Nissan frontier 4×4, which was significantly better than the first Nissan, but still not a memorable vehicle.

I got rid of the jag in 2021.

Hassayampa Casserole

This casserole is an original and was named after the Hassayampa River that flows in Wickenburg, Arizona.

casserole recipe 9
casserole recipe 9

Ingredients

  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 3 teaspoons chili powder
  • 3 teaspoons cumin
  • 1 (8 ounce) can enchilada sauce
  • 1 pound fresh tomatoes, diced
  • 10 ounces frozen corn, thawed
  • 1 cup sliced black olives
  • 3 large green chiles, chopped
  • 1 pound shrimp or imitation crabmeat
  • 12 ounces Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
  • 12 corn tortillas

Instructions

  1. Sauté onion in oil and add cinnamon, chili powder and cumin.
  2. Stir in enchilada sauce and diced tomatoes. Set aside 1 cup sauce.
  3. Add to remaining sauce the corn, olives, green chiles, shrimp or crabmeat and 1 cup cheese.
  4. In a 3 quart shallow casserole dish, cover bottom with some of the tortillas.
  5. Spread 1/3 of shrimp/crabmeat mixture over tortillas; repeat with 2 more layers.
  6. Top with remaining tortillas, sauce and cheese.
  7. Bake at 325 degrees F for 40 minutes.

The Sopranos – Albert Barese

As a kid I was fascinated by the figure of Che Guevara, who looked cool, died relatively young and fought for a better world.

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main qimg 1b633c9301e01bf1e1a8332f844c9f84 lq

Later in life, I read his biography by Jean Cormier, a French journalist/movie director who was a close friend of Che.

It tells the story of his childhood, his medical studies, his trip through South America on a motorbike, how he joined Fidel Castro’s revolution and how they disembarked in Cuba to start a guerrilla war against the Batista regime.

Both had their own regiment in the Sierra Maestra mountains, from where they would launch attacks against government forces. In Che’s regiment there was a little puppy that everybody loved, the mascot of the camp.

One day, Che and a group of soldiers left the camp to ambush a government caravan. But the little puppy had followed them and started barking. They had to shut the dog up or else they would be discovered by the government soldiers. So Che and his men formed a circle around the puppy while one of them strangled it.

I couldn’t put this image out of my mind of these heavily armed guerrilleros standing in a circle to strangle a puppy. They say innocence is the first casualty in any war.

Best Sopranos Scene – “We’re with the Vipers” -All Right Now

Has your grandmother actually had her DNA tested and analyzed?

What I have found in 25 plus years of doing genealogy, and even MORE so since DNA testing came along……people get very invested in family stories and myths. They can build their whole sense of self around them. Then DNA and family history research comes along and blows big holes in their set ideas. Things aren’t what they seem.

There were some doozies told in my family. Some by accident – sort of multigenerational “broken telephones” where things had grains of truth but went sideways in the retelling. Some were deliberate, because it made for a better story. Tales of glory beat tales of misery. Some were told to hide things family members were ashamed of (we had more than our share of those).

DNA can also yank the rug from under you since who you think is your ancestor isn’t always. I have a 78-year-old friend who always believed her father was an Italian fellow who her mother sued for child support in the early 1940’s. Turns out she’s 50% Ashkenazi Jewish without a hint of Italian – and she’s found her biological father’s family, all of whom are at a loss to tell her what the heck happened (to say they were shocked would be an understatement, lol).

Your grandmother may have been born in Italy and raised speaking Italian, but her family could have been ethnically from elsewhere. Nationality should not be confused with ethnicity.

So I have been dating this guy from eight years now. He is my family friend. My first crush,then my first love, my first boyfriend and my first everything. Me and his sister are best friends.

Even though our families knew each other for so long, my family never knew that we were dating, because we Never used to talk infront of them.We(me and him) always used to discuss about how we should convince my parents, how we should ask them and blah blah. I used to get very nervous thinking about my parents reaction. But I was confident that I will convince them and I always knew that he was the one that I want to spend my entire life with.

So one day i went out and came to home , and saw all my family sitting together and discussing seriously, they became silent after seeing me , and my brother asked me to sit beside him and asked me that, they are thinking to get me married. My heart was stumped, millions of thoughts rushed in my head and i was so shocked that i I couldn’t think of one word to say, then he mentioned about the guy that they were considering for me.

Well to my surprise he was none other than my love, the one who makes me feel butterflies even after 8years of togetherness, who just makes me happy by his mere presence. I was so happy that I wanted to jump and dance around. But I couldn’t I simply blushed and said “YES” to my parents. They still didn’t know that we are in love.

We are going to get married soon, preparations are started, IAM on the cloud nine since then. We are going to tell them about us on our wedding day.

I always thought things like this happens only in films and fairy tales. May be every love story is a fairy tale.

They do dont they?

They don’t tend to leave any country alone do they?

They always make decisions based on the people of every country in the world

They must always decide who is free and who isn’t

Any Government that toes their line is ‘Good’ and any Government that doesn’t is ‘Had

They decide human rights violations

If Israel bombs and kills 32,000 Civilians and starves an entire population to death for a single terrorist incident – that’s KOSHER

If Russia invades Ukraine to come to the assistance of 2 Million to 3 Million people who live in Donbass and have been shelled regularly and lost 14,000 lives over 8 years, chronicled in the UN – that’s horrible and thats interfering in the sovereignty of a nation

If Russia arrests 439 people for Social Media posts that’s a huge civil rights violation

If UK arrests 3237 people for Social Media Posts including 900 people just for posting the N word – that’s perfectly acceptable

They have combined killed and liquidated through their decisions – almost 30 Million people in the last 300 years belonging to different countries including :-

  • Inquisitions
  • Literally NUKING a nation
  • Holocaust of 6 Million Jews
  • Starving a million Indians without a shred of remorse
  • Enslaving 3.5 Million people and treating them like Cattle and breeding them like Cattle and Dogs
  • Colonizing and cold bloodedly robbing, slaughtering and displacing 2 Million or more Native Americans , Maoris, Aborigines and stealing their land brazenly
  • Stealing Texas openly from Mexico and now hunting down the same mexicans as Illegals
  • Invaded a Nation, killed a known 93,000 people of that nation and displaced and impoverished an estimated 330,000 people literally lying that they had nuclear weapons
  • Bombed and killed and stole the Oilfields of a Nation merely because their Leader didn’t toe the American line (Syria)
  • Funded Color Revolutions, Coup de Ats and Uprisings against legitimate Governments by their Agencies

These aren’t conspiracy theories are they?

Every one of these incidents have been firmly listed and verified and is now regarded as history

Yet they always seem to turn the tables

Saddam was a Villian though they invaded Iraq for no reason and destroyed him

Yet Zelensky is a Hero

Gadaffi was a Villian

Mao was a Villian

Putin is a villian

Xi is a Villian

Yet not one of these people have conducted a war of aggression in their lives before 2022


Why?

That’s the key question

I believe the answer lies in an Ideology that is deeply ingrained into their blood for centuries

We are the Good Guys

We are the Angels to help these Backward People develop themselves and save them from themselves and their cruel leaders

Sometimes even if people die, we have to look at the long term and be harsh

Like Gates who openly supports an organization that wants 870 Million People dead because they eat up precious food


Now these Nations, it depends on the people of these nations

China and Russia and Iran and a few other nations have obviously woken up and now see these people for what they are

Putins 87% win is an indication

That people braved a rumoured terror attack and shelling and bombing and yet voted in larger numbers is the best middle finger possible

Niger is another example

The Middle East is slowly realizing things aren’t so rosy now

Others are TOO SCARED

India for instance is too frightened of the West because India is too weak to resist sanctions plus India cannot trust China Iran and Russia fully

Not when 40% of it’s exports are destined for US and EU and most of these export orders are non crucial and can be seriously affected

Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia are also too frightened of the West. They gave been dependent too long on the West and they don’t want to leave their comfort zone.

Some are TOO SUBSERVIENT

Japan, Singapore, South Korea, Philippines are simply too enmeshed into the Western system to come out of it


However luckily the hypocrisy of the West is slowly coming out piece by piece

That too despite the fact that they control the media in every way possible.

 

What does it look like when all the jobs dry up? It looks like America today

The grand Ponzi scheme is coming to an end. And the West is slowly shutting down, turning off the lights, and starting the long slow slide into the night.

Let’s have some fun…

If This Was Not Caught On Camera No One Would Have Believed It

We start with a MUST WATCH video. Strange but amazing nature.

Pennsylvania Dutch Brownies

DSCN1040
DSCN1040

Ingredients

  • 4 tablespoons butter or margarine
  • 1 (1 ounce) square unsweetened chocolate
  • 1/4 cup light molasses
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup plus 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
  • 1 1/8 teaspoons ground cinnamon

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Grease 13 x 9-inch metal baking pan; set aside.
  2. In a 4-quart saucepan, melt butter with chocolate over low heat. Remove saucepan from heat. With wire whisk or fork, stir in molasses, then eggs.
  3. With spoon, stir in flour, ginger, cloves, baking soda, salt, 1 cup sugar and 1 teaspoon cinnamon just until blended. Spread batter evenly in pan. Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until a wooden pick inserted 2 inches from edge comes out clean.
  4. Meanwhile, in cup, combine remaining 2 teaspoons sugar and 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon; set aside.
  5. Remove pan from oven; immediately sprinkle brownies with cinnamon-sugar mixture. Cool brownies in pan on wire rack at least 2 hours. When cool, cut brownies lengthwise into 3 strips, then cut each strip crosswise into 5 pieces. Cut each piece diagonally in half.

Source: Good Housekeeping Christmas Joys – Hearst Books

They didn’t exactly choose to participate.

One morning Chinese civilians in Manchuria woke up to this:

main qimg f730908db30253b2ccdb1c1012e674ef lq
main qimg f730908db30253b2ccdb1c1012e674ef lq

Japanese troops marching through their town.

Of course I use “woke up” in a metaphorical sense. They probably heard the Japanese army coming, and many of them were killed by bombs and artillery before the troops actually marched into town, but the invasion itself caught a lot of people(including some members of the Japanese government) by surprise.

The Japanese military(acting somewhat insubordinately from the government in Tokyo) launched an invasion of Manchuria(in northern China), and the Chinese had to respond with war.

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2023 06 01 08 58

It isn’t like the Japanese called up the Chinese and said “Hey we want to go to war, if you are interested call us back”….the Chinese weren’t given the option. China got invaded and the Chinese had to respond. Since China was struggling with internal political problems this wasn’t exactly the best timing for an invasion, but as a country they had to rally together to defend themselves against the invasion.

main qimg 0eaa49bec4f2bb9907e48cf836179b23 lq
main qimg 0eaa49bec4f2bb9907e48cf836179b23 lq

As you can see the Japanese made it pretty deep into China. The traditional heart of Chinese civilization is the Hebei, Henan, Shanxi region which was almost completely conquered by the Japanese at one point. With such a fast acting, dangerous enemy China had to fight back, otherwise they could risk being completely subjugated by the Japanese.

Life under the Japanese occupation forces was brutal. Normal civilian women were raped almost daily, people were shot for no reason, living conditions were rough, and the Japanese would conduct horrific experiments on the people of China. It was in every Chinese citizen’s best interest to resist this occupation, lest they live a life under such an oppressive regime.

British police detain journalist Kit Klarenberg, interrogate him about The Grayzone

British counter-terror police detained journalist Kit Klarenberg upon his arrival at London’s Luton airport and subjected him to an extended interrogation about his political views and reporting for The Grayzone.

As soon as journalist Kit Klarenberg landed in his home country of Britain on May 17, 2023, six anonymous plainclothes counter-terror officers detained him. They quickly escorted him to a back room, where they grilled him for over five hours about his reporting for this outlet. They also inquired about his personal opinion on everything from the current British political leadership to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

At one point, Klarenberg’s interrogators demanded to know whether The Grayzone had a special arrangement with Russia’s Federal Security Bureau (FSB) to publish hacked material.

During Klarenberg’s detention, police seized the journalist’s electronic devices and SD cards, fingerprinted him, took DNA swabs, and photographed him intensively. They threatened to arrest him if he did not comply.

Posted by: b | May 31 2023 13:54 utc | 1

This is me after 27 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days. I think I’m fairly sane:

main qimg 978490e288d26fb59e9bef8ce3076f46
main qimg 978490e288d26fb59e9bef8ce3076f46

It’s a question of mentality. I know I have habits from decades in prison that people find strange. I’m a little OCD about my routines and keeping everything clean. But it’s all harmless. And some of it serves me well. These are products of the indoctrination of the Department Of Corrections.

While in prison, I tried to stay connected to the free world as much as possible. I read books, spoke to people on the phone, watched the news (slanted as it always is), and I listened to stories told by newcomers. It didn’t fully prepare me for what was waiting for me out here, but it helped.

For the first 17 years, I had no hope of ever getting out. But I learned to accept my situation for what it was. That doesn’t mean I gave up fighting to get out. It just means that I didn’t whine about my sentences. I deserved them. But I kept my nose in the Florida Law Weekly, Federal Law Weekly, FPLP (When it existed), and Prison Legal News, just in case there was a change in law. Eventually there was. It happened in 2012, but it still took 10 more years for it to impact my sentences and grant me an oppertunity to be out here.

That mindset. I got out 10 months ago. I have a job as a metal fabricator, I have a late model vehicle, my drivers license, a place to live and people who love me and rejoice in my freedom and success. It’s not hard. It just takes determination. It doesn’t “take” a strong mind, just the absence of a weak mind.

Humility. Remembering where I’ve been, and why. Treating people with kindness and compassion. Walking away and/or ignoring idiots. All things powered by our minds. Products of sanity. Prison is a physical place. You can keep it from doing too much damage to your mind.

Typically, when the military communication between nations collapses, war soon follows. This is most especially true when (historically) China makes a public Casus Belli.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHgZ9xfL65k

It’s best not to try to talk with China if China doesn’t want to listen.

There have been several historical incidents in China where opposition military leaders or negotiators were returned back dead.

Here are a few examples:

1. The Battle of Muye (1046 BC) – During the battle, the Zhou army defeated the Shang army and captured their leader, King Zhou. However, instead of treating him with respect, the Zhou leader, King Wu, had him executed.

2. The Battle of Changping (260 BC) – During the battle, the Qin army defeated the Zhao army and captured their general, Zhao Kuo. However, instead of treating him with respect, the Qin leader, Bai Qi, had him executed.

3. The Battle of Red Cliff (208 AD) – During the battle, the allied forces of Liu Bei and Sun Quan defeated the army of Cao Cao. After the battle, two of Cao Cao’s generals, Pang De and Ma Dai, were captured and executed.

4. The Treaty of Nerchinsk (1689) – This was a treaty between the Qing Empire and the Russian Empire. The Qing negotiators, led by Songgotu, were unhappy with the terms of the treaty and refused to sign it. As a result, they were imprisoned and later executed.

5. The Tiananmen Square protests (1989) – During the protests, student leaders negotiated with the government for several weeks. However, when the government declared martial law and sent in the military, many of the student leaders were arrested and some were later executed.

6. The Urumqi riots (2009) – During the riots, Uighur leaders negotiated with the government for several days. However, when the negotiations broke down, the government sent in the military. Several Uighur leaders were arrested and some were later executed.

It’s worth noting that in some cases, the deaths of opposition military leaders or negotiators may have been the result of personal vendettas or political rivalries rather than a deliberate policy. Never the less, when dealing with the Chinese you must NEVER assume that they will behave in a well established Western fashion.

China is a nation of peaceful warriors. But with over 6000 years of fighting, they DO KNOW how to handle impertinent upstarts.

Women need to start approaching men.

Good men are pretty timid in modern society, and rightly so. Most of the history of man has been mired in rape culture. We called it a lot of names, but it was rape culture. Feminists have spread that message well enough that good, kind, conscientious men know most of human history was one big rapist parade of female oppression.

And they don’t want to be part of that. If they can avoid it, they don’t even want to make a woman uncomfortable. They don’t want to put on the pressure that their gender thought was their birthright for millions of years, not even accidentally. This leads to a certain timidity in sensitive and considerate men, in men who are the best partners for most women.

main qimg 106fd6fa09c86c7beae1c2accab82e7e
main qimg 106fd6fa09c86c7beae1c2accab82e7e

Not like this. This guy is clearly saying no. But you get the idea. Sadie Hawkins Day reenactment photo by Ed Westcott. Public domain.

Women only get to meet and date these men if they notice them, seek them out, and invite them home. Not quietly, not subtly, loudly and unabashedly. Speak clearly. Most men are simple creatures, and they appreciate it when women are direct.

Obviously, I don’t want women to become what men used to be. We need to take rejection just as gracefully as we always want men to take it. But we do need to step up and help men who take feminism’s message seriously find the partners they deserve.

That’ll never happen if we keep waiting for men to do all the work. We need to risk rejection, take our lumps, and find the nice guys we want. It’s our world if we want it. We should act like it.

It is trying.

It is bribing, coercing and threatening and using tons of U.S. taxpayers money to do this shit without much success.

I know your media fooled you into thinking South Korea, Taiwan and Philippines are on your side and willing to do shit on China. Nothing can be further than the truth.

Let’s talk about South Korea. They are oriental and the a from the same Confucian school of thought. The politely nod and give the impression they will but they are no fools. The squeeze. A ton of concession from the US to just bark without biting China whine they know either enrich them or bankrupt them. They know where their bread is buttered.

China and Korea has a few thousand years relation and their cousins and and relatives were biologically murdered by the Americans and quietly they assured the daft yanks that they will bark but won’t agree to let them even shot a bow and arrow at China. Singing American pie for a billion dollars is worth it.

Taiwan has 60% of its income from China, 99% of its inhabitants has a relative, friends, families or associates in China. The chance of Taiwan playing ball with you is zero and none. Sure we will cajole and encourage you to spend a trillion dollar on us and may be, perhaps, hopefully one day in the next ten thousand years time we may be foolish enough to be your dog. Meanwhile go play with your Anglo slaves. UK and Australia. They will serve you well.

China’s Going For Flying Train Of Speed 4000 KM/H

https://youtu.be/RaAfXIRMak4

“They arrived and found that a 14-year-old’s birthday gift, a lawn mower, was stolen. After learning the victim mows the elderly’s lawns for free, they felt it necessary to find a way to get the young man a new lawn mower. After gathering contributions from fellow west sector officers, Officer Seibert ran to Lowe’s and purchased a new lawn mower and gas can for this young man.

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2023 06 01 07 17

This photo was shared to Evansville Watch, which is how we found out about the incident. EPD has many selfless officers that don’t want the notoriety when they do good deeds, but it’s often hard for us to overlook. Thank you Officer Seibert and Officer Siegel for proving what great officers our community has.”

Love What Matters

World War II Paintings From The Soviet Union

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1 137

We tend to forget how horrific World War II was for the Soviet Union. Here’s a fascinating collection of Soviet War paintings.

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36 18
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35 19s
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13 69

China’s High-Speed Sleeper Trains

Recently, an American senator has recommended making India a NATO+ member. This proposal is viewed as an extension of the American military satellite camp, which includes Israel, Japan, Australia, and South Korea. These countries are deeply aligned with NATO’s agenda, as they aim to maintain Western hegemony on the world stage.

2023 06 01 06 48
2023 06 01 06 48

Of course, this statement was a proposal by an American senator and also something that the US has always wanted to do in Asia — to bring India under its control as a means to counter China. For now, the good news is that India has not yet released any official statement on this matter. Personally, I don’t think it is likely to happen. However, considering India’s alignment with the West when it comes to China and its current status as a Quad partner, there is still a risk that exists. Nevertheless, let’s consider a typical scenario of what could happen if India simply decides to go the Trojan Horse way.

What do I mean by this statement?

It is worth noting that India is also aligned with the rising East, which has been actively pursuing a long-term plan to rebuild the financial system in a more equitable manner that promotes Eastern interests. India is a part of two important blocs: the Shanghai Cooperation Organization and BRICS. The BRICS bloc comprises China, Russia, India, Brazil, and South Africa.

As we are aware, the BRICS bloc has garnered significant attention in recent years for its advocacy of de-dollarization. Nations worldwide have shown interest in joining this bloc due to their confidence in its ability to assist countries in breaking free from Western hegemony. India, being a part of this bloc, shares common interests in this regard. Additionally, India maintains a neutral stance towards Russia, which enables it to purchase oil at discounted rates. Furthermore, the friendship between India and Russia remains strong, with India regarding Russia as a valuable partner in terms of both the economy and military cooperation.

But again, India is a real “B.” Not only does it position itself as a rising power that can serve as an alternative to the current Western order, but it also appears to be aligning more closely with the West. One key goal is to promote Hindutva supremacy in other South Asian countries and to work towards containing China. China is seen as the biggest factor hindering India’s establishment of supremacy in Southeast Asia. Therefore, one can argue that India is acting as a Trojan Horse within BRICS. It doesn’t seem fully committed to being a trustworthy partner and instead appears to be a country that is reluctant to share power with other nations, preferring to exert its own rule.

Being a part of the NATO+ member comes with more risks than benefits. It will inevitably increase concerns among Southeast Asian nations about the future in their region, as tensions may escalate between the Asian powers. In recent years, Southeast Asia has slowly deviated from its status as a peaceful region free of conflict, especially since the US introduced its Indo-Pacific Vision. In a scenario where India joins NATO+, it would effectively transform India into a loyal servant of the West, aiding the West in achieving its goal of bringing India into its military camp.

Overall, it would be unwise for India to perceive any benefits in obtaining this status. Firstly, it is widely known how divided the country is, with many states not having Hindi as their primary language. Recent revolts against the Indian government, particularly concerning the BJP’s plans to enforce Hindi as the sole language across all of India, highlight the potential disregard for other languages in various states. Such a move could be seen as an affront to the linguistic diversity within India.

The good thing about British is that they imposed English or else India would be divided into many countries, because English is a bridge for many cultures inside India to understand each other.

China has options to keep India checked

The first answer lies in Pakistan. Oh yes Indiiians, I know, it is the poorest country, with most people lacking basic access to their human needs to maintain a normal lifestyle. However, it is important to note that there is also a “rich Pakistan”, particularly within the military itself. Despite any economi crises, the military will never allow itself to remain weak and has invested billions towards making it strong. Additionally, it is worth mentioning that the military controls key aspects of the economy.

Yes, Pakistan alone may not be a match for India. However, just imagine the scenario if China and Pakistan joined forces to launch a military intervention on Indian soil. It would be an absolute disaster for India and could potentially turn the country into a second Ukraine. Let’s not forget the historical fact that China was able to reclaim the lost land of Aksai Chin from India, even when it was not as powerful as it is today.

Of course, I am being hyperbolic with the first option. China does not operate in the same way as Western countries. However, as I mentioned earlier, if tensions continue to escalate, particularly regarding the unresolved border issue, it could potentially lead to a dire scenario. This would be the worst-case scenario for the India itself.

I once saw something that I couldn’t explain to anyone and I probably can’t now.

One day I was walking home and almost in front of me a man just fell down.

Backwards away, just straight on the back of the head.

An insanely loud crash.

I’ve never heard a noise like that before.

I immediately went over to him, crouched down and looked at him.

And I saw his eyes.

They were wide open and I saw him walk away.

I saw it. He left his body and was “gone.”

The eyes were now empty. No one at home.

I started talking to him, I don’t remember what, some soothing stuff.

I got in touch with him.

And after a while I saw that he was back.

I know I brought him back by talking, I just know it.

The ambulance that somebody had gone for then came.

I stood up. All of a sudden, I was shaking all over and became freezing.

I asked someone to help me, but no one understood what was wrong with me.

I went home and was still in shock for a very long time.

Through the end-of-life care I’ve done, I’ve seen death many times.

But never, never, have I seen it as I did that day.

I would have liked someone to talk to me myself afterwards.

But I was alone and had to cope, and I didn’t know how to tell anyone.

China’s Explosive Chip Technology Breakthroughs Shock the World

https://youtu.be/nJZbMx2Oh3g

2023 06 01 06 41
2023 06 01 06 41

A Chinese supersonic combat drone has captured the world’s attention with its remarkable speed and formidable weaponry. Whispers of its unprecedented velocity have spread, leaving adversaries in awe of its lightning-fast strikes. The drone’s unmatched agility and maneuverability are said to surpass anything seen before, making conventional defense systems ineffective against its relentless attacks.

Revealed some years ago, the drone has now gained a new combat system which has made it formidable weapon and a force to be reckoned with. A recent leaked report shows China has been successful in making this drone the best version of itself and now the world is ready to see it.

Lets uncover China’s new WZ 8 Drone and it’s capability that gives China an upper hand in drone warfare:

The wez-8 Drone is a supersonic UAV meaning it can travel at speeds greater than the speed of sound, also it is a relatively small drone with a wingspan of around 9 meters and a length of 14 meters. The Drone is reportedly powered by a scramjet engine which allows it to reach speeds of up to Mach 3, nearly 3 times the speed of sound.

One of the key features of the wz8 Drone is its stealth capabilities the Drone has a low radar cross section making it difficult for enemy radar systems to detect it the Drone is also equipped with electronic warfare capabilities which enable it to jam enemy Communications and radar systems.

The wz8 Drone is also capable of carrying weapons although the specific weapons it is designed to carry have not been disclosed however given its Speed and Agility it is likely that the Drone could be used for air-to-air combat or for precision strikes on ground targets.

Potential uses the wz8 Drone is designed primarily for military use and its speed and stealth capabilities make it well suited for a variety of missions some potential uses for the wz8 Drone include surveillance the drone’s speed and range make it an ideal platform for reconnaissance and surveillance missions its stealth capabilities also make it difficult for enemy forces to detect electronic warfare the wz8 EW capabilities make it well suited for disrupting enemy Communications and radar systems + Precision strikes

The Drone Speed and Agility could make it an effective weapon for precision strikes on ground targets air-to-air combat given its supersonic Speed and Agility the wez-8 could potentially be used for air-to-air combat missions the wz8 supersonic combat drone represents a significant advancement in China’s drone technology capabilities.

China’s super Sonic drones provide an edge in surveillance, intelligence gathering and strategic operations, these drones offer unparalleled speed and agility enabling real-time information acquisition and Swift response capabilities.

China’s advancements in this field contributes to its National Security and enhances its military capabilities making it a formidable force in the global defense landscape like no other nation.

This unique drone is one of a kind in the world with no parallels. I am not sure if it is available for exports. Saudi and UAE would buy this in a blink of an eye.

When I was in the military, I found myself stationed in Korea near the DMZ. I was 18, from Chicago, and was considered one of the baddest and coolest guys in the unit. My parents were from the Jim Crow South, and white people were not at all favored in their estimate. By the same token, my personal experience with “Jon Burge” era perverted, genitalia focused, Nazi, and Klan cops, had left me equally jaded.

My racial epiphany occurred one night while on alert in a frozen bunker, and I fell asleep while others were on guard. To my shock and horror, I realized that my feet had essentially frozen, and I went into panic mode. To my surprise, all my “brothers” laughed at me like a clown as I stumbled around the bunker dreading the potential amputation of my feet. To be sure, it was the very worst experience of my young life on the other side of the planet, and I was really close to “losing” it.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an avowed redneck named Turley from Georgia, grabbed me and pulled into a corner of the bunker. He took off my insulated boots, (which worked fine IF you kept it moving) opened his parka, and positioned himself so that my feet was inside of his outer garments and pressed solidly against his body. Before long, the feeling returned to my feet and I went about my duties. Despite my embarrassment, I never forgot what he did for me; and from that day on, I’ve never allowed race to be a factor in my estimation of my fellow man.

No

Absolutely not

Like i said China is a land of laws

China is absolutely 100% for free competition

However there are two points to consider :-

A. Chinese Data Security Laws

B. Chinese ability to build and scale their own apps


Chinese Data Security Laws are very stringent and very strong

In China , any app cannot own the Customer Data nor control the Customer Data. The Customer Data is like our AADHAR in India.

The Databases are controlled by the Government of China and the App can use the data but cannot transfer or control the data in any way whatsoever.

The Bad news is YOUR CAB INFORMATION CAN BE SEEN BY THE GOVERNMENT ANYTIME THEY CHOOSE TO SEE

The Good news is YOU WONT GET A SPAM CALL FROM A DUBIOUS “BANK MANAGER” asking for your ATM CARD NUMBER and OTP

So Uber cannot cash in on their Customer Database which they can do in almost every other country and even value this database in the Billions of Dollars

Neither can Didi or most other Chinese Apps

In China – DATA of Chinese Citizens is always controlled by the GOVERNMENT OF CHINA


Chinese are the worlds best app developers and they scale their apps superbly

So the Chinese will eventually make an app that is better than yours and more efficient than yours

This is a country where 9th Graders create apps

Its a hobby for many kids in China

So any foreign app must always ensure that their services are exemplary and have a unique edge that allows them to compete with the Chinese

Otherwise Chinese will run rings around them


So Chinese Government never forces anyone to sell their Apps especially foreigners

Its just that Chinas Data Security Laws and Chinas own ability to build apps means that Foreign Apps have tremendous competition and are easily eclipsed once a Chinese App really scales to that top level.

And if you think China has only 1–2

This Only Happens In China Technologies That Are On Another Level

https://youtu.be/YUsDJc6RPDs

I believe that it is actually going to be achieved. When China says it is going to do something; it invariably happens.

In fact, China already has this ability. It could probably cobble up some kind of craft from systems already in stock, and sail out to the Moon, land and return successfully. Give China about six months to make the necessary arrangements.

I will tell you all this, and you can “take it to the bank”;

  • China does things in clusters.
  • The cluster of activities will all fit together like pieces in a puzzle.
  • You will not see the entire outline of the puzzle until it is nearly finished.

As such…

  • The First landing on the moon by China will be one of many.
  • Every landing will have activities that will cycle towards one singular goal.
  • Evidence suggests that all the landings will be dedicated to the creation of a long-term habitat (or base) on the moon.

This base…

  • Will in itself have numerous functional objectives.
    • Manufacturing.
    • Sustainability.
    • Mining.
    • Industrial technology development.
    • Construction technology development.

Resulting in…

  • The setting up for a Mars colony.

“They were all killed instantly!” – Donetsk under continued devastating attack

Typically, when the military communication between nations collapses, war soon follows. This is most especially true when (historically) China makes a public Casus Belli.

It’s best not to try to talk with China if China doesn’t want to listen.

There have been several historical incidents in China where opposition military leaders or negotiators were returned back dead.

Here are a few examples:

1. The Battle of Muye (1046 BC) – During the battle, the Zhou army defeated the Shang army and captured their leader, King Zhou. However, instead of treating him with respect, the Zhou leader, King Wu, had him executed.

2. The Battle of Changping (260 BC) – During the battle, the Qin army defeated the Zhao army and captured their general, Zhao Kuo. However, instead of treating him with respect, the Qin leader, Bai Qi, had him executed.

3. The Battle of Red Cliff (208 AD) – During the battle, the allied forces of Liu Bei and Sun Quan defeated the army of Cao Cao. After the battle, two of Cao Cao’s generals, Pang De and Ma Dai, were captured and executed.

4. The Treaty of Nerchinsk (1689) – This was a treaty between the Qing Empire and the Russian Empire. The Qing negotiators, led by Songgotu, were unhappy with the terms of the treaty and refused to sign it. As a result, they were imprisoned and later executed.

5. The Tiananmen Square protests (1989) – During the protests, student leaders negotiated with the government for several weeks. However, when the government declared martial law and sent in the military, many of the student leaders were arrested and some were later executed.

6. The Urumqi riots (2009) – During the riots, Uighur leaders negotiated with the government for several days. However, when the negotiations broke down, the government sent in the military. Several Uighur leaders were arrested and some were later executed.

It’s worth noting that in some cases, the deaths of opposition military leaders or negotiators may have been the result of personal vendettas or political rivalries rather than a deliberate policy. Never the less, when dealing with the Chinese you must NEVER assume that they will behave in a well established Western fashion.

China is a nation of peaceful warriors. But with over 6000 years of fighting, they DO KNOW how to handle impertinent upstarts.

Why do African nations love China?

Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken Bake

Chicken thighs are nestled in a deliciously-seasoned mixture of sauerkraut, onions, apple, apricots and raisins.

2023 06 01 10 17
2023 06 01 10 17

Ingredients

  • 1 (2-pound) package Perdue® Fresh Chicken Thighs
  • Salt and ground pepper to taste
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 1-2 tablespoons canola oil
  • 1 (14-ounce) can sauerkraut, undrained
  • 1 (14-ounce) can whole onions, drained
  • 1 tart red apple, unpeeled, sliced or diced
  • 6-8 dried whole apricots
  • 1/2 cup raisins
  • 1/4 cup brown sugar, or to taste

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Season thighs with salt and pepper.
  3. In a large, nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, heat oil. Cook thighs 6 to 8 minutes per side until browned.
  4. Meanwhile, in 9 x 13-inch shallow baking dish, mix sauerkraut well with onions, apple, apricots, raisins and brown sugar. Nestle thighs into sauerkraut mixture.
  5. Cover and bake 30 to 40 minutes, or until chicken is cooked through, and a meat thermometer inserted in thickest part of thigh registers 180 degrees F.

Serves: 4

China Just Hacked The U.S. Navy…

Family

The first photo is of actor Pierce Brosnan and his wife of twenty years, at the beginning of their marriage.

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2023 06 01 07 07

The second photo is of them today.

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2023 06 01 07 08

When the fools pointed out to him that she had grown fat, he simply replied:

"She is in my eyes the most beautiful woman in the world, she raised my 5 children with love. In the past, I already loved her for her personality and not just for her beauty. Now I love her even more. I'm very proud of her and I always try to be worthy of her love."

That’s marrying a man who loves you as you are.

The Wildest And Weirdest Chinese EVs From The 2023 Shanghai Auto Show

Be the Rufus!

On my way home from a 12 hour day of cutting lawns, I seen this gentleman, I have no clue who he is to this day. But I said no way was I gonna let this guy tackle this on his own.

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So I turned around and went back and unloaded my mower and drove across the street and ask the gentleman if I could help. His eyes lit up and I took that as a yes.

I ran down, jumped on my mower and went to work. As I’m cutting the lawn I look over and see the gentleman hunched over his wife, resting his head on her shoulder. So I get it knocked out in no time. I give them a thumbs up and proceeded to load my mower up.

The wife makes her way over before I could leave. She was so thankful! Their riding mower broke down and her husband has been mowing their big lawn with a push mower. It only took 15 mins of my time. I changed their life, for a small moment.

I hope someone reads this and feels like doing something good for someone tomorrow. I’m grateful to be where I’m at and I’m thankful for the people that help me get here.

Credit: J&J Lawn Service

After Macron came to China, France to sell a 6,675 square kilometer island to China

The tragedy of American dating

We will continue to look a little into the Passport Bros movement. In particular, how the West; the American ideal of “family” is so messed up and there numerous people who are upset about this. And it is really heartbreaking. So many lonely girls, and at the same time, so many men are showing zero sympathy.

Is this America today?

I cannot believe it. The USA is so damn fucked up!

I suffer and feel for all the single mothers in the video. I feel for the lonely guys, and the confused people who are just looking for some appreciation and love and care and concern.

But ideology keeps getting in the way.

Ugh!

Do not get too caught up. Focus on your friends. Focus in your family. Be kind and caring. Expand outward.  Control your thoughts and control the circle of people that surround you. Your life will be so much easier.

Ok, here’s a video…

When Women Regret Feminism – Strong, Independent Woman Can’t Find A Man

Yes. There is a biological clock that ends in a hard wall. If you are a woman in your early 30’s check for fibroid cysts. It’s normal, but they will really mess up your insides when it comes to having babies.

And, please, I know many of the younger women are so full of themselves, but the clock of life is harsh.

Show some sympathy.

Show some empathy.

It is a tough and difficult world out there.

Give people a chance.

Show some compassion. Do not be the jerk who laughs at others tears!

June 3, 2023 – 17:6

TEHRAN – A Qatari news website reported on Friday that Iran, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and Oman are to form a joint naval force under China’s support in line with increasing maritime security in the Persian Gulf.

Al-Jadid said China had already begun mediating negotiations among Tehran, Riyadh, and Abu Dhabi aimed at reinforcing navigation’s safety in the strategic body of water.

Back in March, China successfully helped broker a deal between Tehran and Riyadh according to which Iran and Saudi Arabia agreed to reestablish diplomatic ties after seven years of estrangement.

According to analysts, the consent of the Persian Gulf states to Beijing’s mediation in such sensitive matters shows China’s growing influence in the region as opposed to Washington’s declining influence.

Iran has long been saying that only regional countries can guarantee the security of the Persian Gulf.

Iran, Saudi Arabia to form naval coalition in northern Indian Ocean

Iranian Navy Commander Shahram Irani also announced on Saturday that a naval coalition will be formed in the northern Indian Ocean with the involvement of Iran, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Bahrain, Iraq, Pakistan, India, and other countries in the region.

Meanwhile, the UAE has announced quitting a U.S.-led naval force.

On Wednesday, the website of the Emirati foreign ministry said Abu Dhabi had withdrawn from the Joint Maritime Forces that operate in the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf.

The ministry said the Emirates had decided to ditch the naval coalition following an extensive evaluation of its security needs.

Analysts say Abu Dhabi has made the decision in line with its ambition to diversify its security relationships.

The Rise of Men Going Their Own Way #2

Mean and women going “their own way”. Ugh!

Please show understanding and compassion!

I’m telling you…

Laugh at these people now, suffer their fate later on!

https://youtu.be/ojBkdOrtftI

LGBQ+ everything

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2023 06 07 16 27

“GOD Please SAVE Me!” | 35+ Yr Old Women Hit The Wall HARD

I am actually horrified. I am so sad for the girls here. I am really sad that the young men are laughing about it.

People need compassion.

Anyways, the wall exists.

Network with friends and family. There is no such thing as strong and independent. Do not fall for that lie.

Stay Calm in the Midst of Chaos

Always stay calm. You are a rock. You are her rock.

Be calm when she becomes emotional. All women are emotional to an extent. You can’t change it.

There is no point in even trying. But also, do not run away from the situation. This doesn’t work either and she’ll resent you for it.

What you must do is face her head-on like a MAN.

Do not react to her.

She’s testing to see whether you can be pulled into her un-needed drama.

She wants to see if she can bring crazy storms into your life – don’t give in.

A hallmark of a great man is composure.

So many fights can be avoided if you just don’t give into her chaos and stay grounded.

That’s what she wants – but she won’t tell you. You’re suppose to know this.

Obviously, if it’s a serious issue, than handle it with compassion and respect.

Otherwise, staying calm, humor and positivity is usually the way to go 90% of the time.

队长YoungCaptain/黄礼格 – 11 『Cause you know 爱意就像大雨落下怎么能让人不牵挂。』【動態歌詞】

There’s no point in holding dialogue with a bully

Much has been made recently of a “close call” incident whereby a Chinese fighter jet intercepted an American F-16 in the South China Sea at close proximity. The incident, a clear show of discontent from Beijing towards the United States, prompted condemnation from Washington who subsequently demanded “dialogue” and “communication” in order to prevent mistakes from being made. This theme carried on into the Singapore based Shang-Ri La Dialogue last week, a forum which is of course used by the US and its allies to advance their geopolitical goals. H ere, US Secretary of Defence Llyod Austin again reiterated a call for open channels, but he did not get a meeting with his Chinese counterpart, amidst protests over him being sanctioned by the United States previously.

Austin of course, continued in presenting his vision for a “free and open indo-pacific”, which as American politicians do, depict themselves as a bringing of peace, stability and freedom for the nations of that given region against so-called “coercion” and “bullying”. In reality, the United States is aiming for the comprehensive militarization of Asia in the bid to contain China, and of course frames Beijing’s reactions to this hostile activity, be it Taiwan or the South China Sea, as acts of aggression and instability, with the US frequently of course then prescribing itself as the solution to the problem they are subsequently creating. Likewise, China’s lack of willingness to “cooperate” is then spun as being unreasonable.

But this is manipulative and completely misleading in so many ways. If a bully decides to move into your garden, sets up camp and brings weapons, is it reasonable to object to it, and of course to be hostile in response? Yet, on demanding that bully leave and stop interfering with your property, do you think anyone would take it seriously if he then says that you are the one being unreasonable? And that you should talk with him to make sure you don’t get into a fight? As that is exactly what is happening here. The US is response is literally this: “We’re going to continue to get new bases around you, we’re going to continue to build new alliances targeting you and bring more military assets into the region, and continually sale warships off your coast, but oh, please make sure you talk with us just to make sure no problems arise from it.”

In doing so, the United States has no intention of changing course or “understanding” China more, let alone respecting its interests and finding a position of co-existence. Rather, it is about gaslighting Beijing as the aggressor and using a misleading logic that frames China as the one being unreasonable. The United States knows that the more it can provoke and fan the flames of tensions in the region, the more it can subsequently advance its own military agenda and thus force other countries to take sides. The US does not respect the neutrality of ASEAN, and will make regional harmony, economic and political integration, as well as trust, completely disintegrate in the bid to escalate its own ideological conflict.

We have subsequently seen the exact same situation pan out in regards to Ukraine, where it has already started a major war, which has been wholly to American benefit. China has made it clear they do not want such a war, and it is not in their interests to do so, yet that does not mean the United States will change its path or stop provoking, thus forcing Beijing to continue to respond in tandem. In other words, the cycle of escalation or “the security dilemma” is already well underway, and no matter how many sweet words the United States may speak about dialogue or talks, the structural reality of what they are pursuing is not going to change and therefore the risk of conflict continues to grow irrespectively.

There is little walking away from the emerging arms race now, and while China must avoid making abrasive decisions, and it is absolutely right nonetheless that there is no point in talking to the United States and taking heed of this gaslighting about “communications” and “guardrails”, because it distracts from the obvious reality that the perpetrator is trying to project on the victim and force it to be responsible for a situation it is creating. The US has chosen the path of confrontation, and must subsequently bear the consequences for it. You do not be nice to someone who moves into your garden.

Woman That Got KARMA On Divorce Court!

Show compassion , understanding and empathy. Put yourself in the shoes of others.

https://youtu.be/HBgz6smgTwA

Xinjiang’s 5G Network Reaches Every Corner: 39,000 Base Stations and Counting!

Northwest China’s Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region had built 39,000 5G base stations by the end of April 2023, amid the region’s efforts to push head with 5G networks, local authorities said on Wednesday.

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main qimg 3059862f976a73e2bec7a90064e9fa04

Currently, all the region’s prefecture-level cities, all its counties and 99.16 percent of its townships are covered by 5G networks. There are 15 5G base stations for every 10,000 residents in Xinjiang.

Last year, Xinjiang’s information and communication industry invested 1.7 billion yuan (about 244 million U.S. dollars) in building 5G base stations, said Ma Zhuqing, head of the regional communications administration.

Xinjiang is also speeding up integration and innovation of its key 5G industrial applications, with 70 major 5G applications in relevant industries underway, including the construction of a smart land port in the China-Europe freight train (Urumqi) assembly center, Ma said.

Terry Zhong – Goodnight Stranger (feat. 习谱予 Cheryl Xi)

Nvidia founder Jensen Huang warns about China’s resolve to build its own advanced semiconductors

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The Taiwan-born American entrepreneur says mainland China has dedicated a ‘massive’ amount of resources to build its own high-end chips.

Nvidia and its US peers must ‘run very fast’ to stay ahead of Chinese competitors, Huang says during Computex Taipei.

Nvidia founder and CEO Jensen Huang Jen-hsun said China’s ability to catch up in chip technology should not be underrated, as the country pours massive resources into shoring up the sector amid mounting export restrictions by the US and its allies.

The world’s most valuable chip maker, which has been barred by Washington from selling its most advanced chips to customers in China, must “run very fast” to stay competitive, Huang told reporters at a round table at Computex Taipei, an annual technology industry expo, on Tuesday.

“Whatever the regulations are … of course we will absolutely comply, but I think China will use the opportunity to foster their local entrepreneurs, and that’s why there are so many graphics processing unit start-ups in China,” Huang was quoted as saying by Nikkei Asia and several Taiwanese media outlets.

Graphics processing units (GPUs) have simpler architecture than central processing units at the heart of most personal computers, making the former easier to design.

“If you weren’t in the chip industry and you wanted to start a chip company, what company would you start? You would start a GPU [company]. And there’s a whole bunch of GPU start-ups in China,” Huang reportedly said.

“The amount of resources that has been dedicated to this area in China … is quite massive, so you can’t underestimate them.”

Huang made similar remarks in a recent interview with the Financial Times, warning the Biden administration to be “careful” with its semiconductor restrictions, because “if [China] can’t buy from … the United States, they’ll just build it themselves”.

To comply with Washington’s rules, Nvidia currently offers lower-end versions of its most advanced GPUs that are tailor-made for the mainland Chinese market.

Huang’s net worth is US$36 billion and he is Chinese who was born in Taiwan.

Now that you mention it, I was forced to cook part of a meal outside over an open flame even though the weather was cold the other day.

That’s because it was Thanksgiving, and the oven had been full of other food since 6am that morning, preparing for a 5pm meal. Yes, eleven hours of cooking different things, and it still wasn’t enough. That’s how much food we had. I had to cook the ham outside on the grill.

Well, it’s not really cooking the ham… it’s reheating a pre-cooked, pre-sliced 10-pound ham. The most difficult part of the entire thing is opening the bag of charcoal.

I spent the day after Thanksgiving playing video games, answering questions on Quora, and shopping online. Some of the things I bought in the morning were delivered that afternoon.

My plan for today is more of the same.

If this is what it’s like to live in a third world country, I don’t see what’s so bad about it.

【Engsub】侠客(Xia Ke)|The Knight | 老胡khufu – Lao Hu Khufu | Rap vibe

An Englishman staggers, ashen-faced, into a roadside bar, demanding a large brandy. The barman is concerned.

“Well,” says the man, “I was just driving along and my BMW suddenly gave up the ghost! So I cruised into the layby just along the road here and opened the bonnet. But I have no idea how these modern cars work! I was about to call the Automobile Association when I saw two horses come up to the fence and peer at the engine. And one of them actually spoke! Clear as day! Couldn’t believe my ears!”

“Oh, yes – what did it say?”

“Well, this is the extraordinary thing – it told me to press down on some bit of plastic until I heard a click. So I did that – and then this horse told me to try the engine – and it started immediately!”

“Ah,” said the barman. “And tell me, what color was this horse?”

“Color? Color? Whatever do you mean? The damn thing spoke to me, clear as day! In fact, it was a brown horse!”

“Thought so,” says the barman, polishing the next batch of glasses.

“Thought so? Didn’t you hear what I was saying? This horse dam’ well spoke to me!”

“Well”, says the barman, “I thought it would be her. The white one knows nothing about BMW ignition systems!”

Do you want to walk in on them when they are masturbating? Or perhaps your daughter taking her bra off? Or your kid doing a handstand, so you would directly hit them and break their neck in result?

If you smell weed, smoke, hear screams, moans, loud obnoxious music, then have a problem with it. In the end, don’t you think a screwdriver or a bobby pin would easily unlock their door?

Knock on the kid’s door, and ask if you can come in. Give at least some fundamental privacy.

The US military-industrial complex produces lots of useless junk, like the Patriot surface-to-air missile system:

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2023 06 07 10 33

Recently, Zelenskyy claimed Ukraine shot down some Kinzhal hypersonic missiles using the Patriot system. No. Ukraine did not shoot down a single Kinzhal using the shitty Patriot missile system. That would be like claiming that Kim Jung-Un beat Usain Bolt in the 100-meter sprint. Zelenskkly’s story would’ve been more credible if he had claimed Ukraine shot down the Khinzals with slingshots.

The US doesn’t even have a hypersonic missile. For crying out loud, Iran now has hypersonic missiles:

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2023 06 07 10 34

These dumb US and British reporters (redundant) doubt Iran has hypersonic missile capability. Hey, US and British dumbbells, hypersonic just means going faster than the speed of sound. Iran isn’t claiming to have solved the riddle of dark energy. Iran is claiming capabilities other countries already have, just not the US.

In high school, American History was largely propaganda. Lots of Americans believe that we’ve never lost a war, despite mostly losing after World War 2. Lots of American dingbats think the US won World War 2 single-handedly. Russians did most of the fighting and dying. Without Russia, we’d all be speaking German and giving the sieg-heil to ridiculous dickless Adolf statues.

Teaching Americans propaganda is the problem with the US. We have a bunch of fat, stupid fuckers who believe we’re the best at everything. The only potential some of these fat fuckers have is self-imploding into a black hole. If that happens it will happen first in the US and should be celebrated, These days, the US has little else to celebrate.

Joe Biden excels at falling down. He can fall off a bike. He can fall going up the ramp of a plane. If there’s one sandbag within a ten-mile radius, Biden will find it and trip over it.

Biden has another neat trick. He can imitate a wind pavilion, like the one in Figure 1. Biden stands in the breeze and lets the wind blow in one ear and out the other. The wind resonates in his hollow head and gives off a hum which is certainly more pleasest than listening to Biden butcher a speech.

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2023 06 07 10t 34

Figure 1. Wind pavilion.

I think the US is in the “mad emperor” stage of empire decline. We have clearly mentally deficient people running the empire. We’re teetering on the brink. Economic catastrophe is close at hand. Hell, it’s already here.

Why aren’t there more homeless people in China?

Mars Snow Globe Ditches Snow For Swirling Martian Dust Storm

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Designer, Dan Abramson (previously), is at it again with the Mars Dust Globe, a modern twist on the classic water snow globe, where the snow is a mesmerizing Martian Dust Storm.

Features detailed texture of Valles Marineris, the Tharsis volcanoes, and Olympus Mons – the solar system’s tallest known planetary peak. Sculpted by the talented, Tim Barry.

More: Kickstarter h/t: neatorama

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1 1 3

The globe had to not only achieve a great swirl, but it also had to eventually settle and become clear. Adding too much material would stain the water, and too little was no longer stunning.

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The Wallflowers – Angel On My Bike(unplugged)

Download Cool Buddy Icons for Free

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Download cool ‘Buddy Icon Set’ absolutely for free. Created by Iconka.

These Filipinas STRIKE BACK At WOMEN In USA They Understand Passport Bros

Pennsylvania Dutch Meat Loaf

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20221013 172137 1

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 cup fresh bread crumbs
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  • 1 (8 ounce) can Hunt’s tomato sauce, divided
  • 1 egg
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 3/4 cup water
  • 2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
  • 2 tablespoons prepared mustard
  • 1 tablespoon vinegar

Instructions

  1. In a medium bowl, lightly mix beef, bread crumbs, onion, green pepper, 1/2 can tomato sauce, egg, salt and pepper. Shape into a loaf in a shallow baking pan.
  2. Combine remaining tomato sauce with remaining ingredients. Pour over loaf.
  3. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 1/4 hours. Baste the loaf several times during baking.

Yield: 6 servings

Hotel in China

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2023 06 07 10 06

Meanwhile in Egypt

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2023 06 07 10 07

David Lee Roth – Drop In The Bucket (Guitar Cover)

The Ukrainian Military Is In Bad Shape

Erik Kramer and Paul Schneider are two former U.S. special operations soldiers who have been in Ukraine since 2022 to train Ukrainian troops.

At War on the Rocks they paint a dark picture of the state of the Ukrainian military. Their intent is to get money for more training, thus the real picture may be less dark than they describe. But even if one takes that into account it is still a sad state for an army that has been at war for more than a year. Some excerpts:

Based on our nine months of training with all services of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, to include the Ground Forces (Army), Border Guard Service, National Guard, Naval Infantry (Marines), Special Operations Forces, and Territorial Defense Forces, we have observed a series of common trends: lack of mission command, effective training, and combined arms operations; ad hoc logistics and maintenance; and improper use of special operations forces. These trends have undermined Ukraine’s resistance and could hinder the success of the ongoing offensive.

What ongoing offensive?

Under mission command, the German Auftragstaktik, the leader disseminates his intent (“to attack through the northern woods to take town x”) and authority to subunits that is passed down with the mission to empower subordinates at all levels. Each subunits can make its plans to coordinate and execute the mission as best as possible. The contrast is an order command where every detail of execution is ordered from the top down. Both have advantages but to have a mixed system, as Ukraine currently has, is the worst of all places.

In our experience, across many units and staffs, the Ukrainian Armed Forces do not promote personal initiative and foster mutual trust or mission command. As Michael Kofman and Rob Lee recently discussed on the Russia Contingency podcast, elements of the Ukrainian Armed Forces have an old Soviet mentality that holds most decision-making at more senior levels. Amongst military leaders at the brigade level and below, our impression is that junior officers fear making mistakes.

But to use mission command down to the lower levels of a Platoon one needs noncommissioned officers (sergeants) to run the show. Those the Ukrainian military had are by now probably dead:

Having trained every component of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, we have continually seen a lack of an experienced noncommissioned officer corps. It is common to see field grade officers running around during training counting personnel and coordinating for meals. In the United States, it takes years to develop just a junior noncommissioned officer.

The next big lack is combined arms training and use. Tanks protect the infantry, the infantry protects the tanks, the artillery covers the battlefield to allow tanks and infantry to maneuver, command takes care that all three coordinate their actions.

The armor/infantry relationship is supposed to be symbiotic, but it is not. The result is that infantry will conduct frontal assaults or operate in urban areas without the protection and firepower of tanks. Also, artillery fires are not synchronized with maneuver. Most units do not talk directly to supporting artillery, so there is a delay in call for fire missions. We have been told that units will use runners to send fire missions to artillery batteries because of issues with communications.Most of the military’s operations are not phased and are sequential. Fires and maneuver, for example, are planned separately from infantry units — and infantry units plan separately from supporting artillery. This mentality also carries over to adjacent unit coordination, which is either nonexistent or rare and causes high rates of fratricide. Unit commanders have concerns about collaborators and thus are hesitant to pass on critical information that can be used against them to sister units.

These issues are compounded by unreliable communications between units and with senior leadership. The Ukrainian Armed Forces have a hodgepodge of radios that are vulnerable to jamming. Further, battalion missions are mainly independent company operations that do not focus on a main effort coupled with supporting efforts. The armed forces do not combine effects, so operations are piecemeal and disjointed. The separate missions are not supporting each other, nor are the missions of lower level units “nested” under a higher level mission. Sustainment is not synchronized with operations, either.

Due to the wild mix of weapons and for lack of trained mechanics logistics and the maintenance of equipment are a mess.

This lack of coordinated maintenance and logistics also translates into medical care. Medical evacuation and care are haphazard. Experienced Ukrainian combat medics have repeatedly stated that many of the evacuees would have survived it they had reached definitive care in a timely manner. The Ukrainian Armed Forces can solve this issue with a systematic logistics process.

Ukrainian special forces are mostly used as infantry even as they should be used for more demanding missions. There also are gimmick missions:

Ukraine special forces units comprised of international volunteers shop around their services to conventional unit commanders without a mission being tied to a strategic or operational goal. One example of a mission was a conventional brigade commander who had reported to his command that he had occupied a village taken from the Russians. When he realized that the information he had was mistaken and they had stopped short, he asked the international special operations forces unit to go into the occupied village and take a picture of a Ukrainian flag placed on top of a building in the center of the village.

A suicide mission to hide the commanders false reporting …

The authors claim that most of the above problems could be fixed by more ‘western’ training which they are more than willing to sell. However, what has become of the last armies ‘western’ forces have trained in Iraq and Afghanistan? Both fell apart. An army must reflect the local society and culture. It can not be formed top down by outside forces.

Since 2015 the Ukrainian army has been build up and trained by U.S. and British forces. What the WotR authors describe is the result of that.

Posted by b on June 3, 2023 at 17:01 UTC | Permalink

No secrets

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-G2ljW720E

Pepper Hash

This is an old Pennsylvania Dutch recipe.

Garnished Sweet Pepper Hash HF
Garnished Sweet Pepper Hash HF

Ingredients

  • 1 head cabbage, shredded
  • 2 green bell peppers, coarsely ground
  • 1/3 cup vinegar
  • 1/3 cup honey or granulated sugar
  • Salt and pepper to your taste

Instructions

  1. Shred and chop the vegetables.
  2. Add the vinegar, honey, salt and pepper.
  3. Serve.
Natasha Wright
May 26, 2023

The situation will in all likelihood turn sour even more because NATO cannot stop its woeful warmongering and waging endless wars.

We are living in turbulent times indeed. Vital volumes of history are being written right before our very eyes.

You may have noticed that “Dr Doom” is sending out doom-and-gloom messages yet again. Fortune reported back in April that Nouriel Roubini (aka Dr Doom) is warning of painful stagflation caused by a new Cold War with China and the balkanization of the global economy.

Al Jazeera also reported on Roubini’s downcast views, saying, “the world is headed for dark times in the next 20 years.”

No wonder Dr Doom, who leapt to financial stardom by predicting an economic catastrophe in 2008, is now warning the world that the conflict between the United States and China is simmering – and surely not only in the area of economics.

However, the global situation is so frighteningly serious that it will most surely crescendo into a double-dip recession for a plethora of other factors as well as from the prevailing sentiments in the Pentagon predicting a forthcoming war with China.

We are living through truly turbulent times. There are countless politically crucial things happening globally that boggle the mind. If one remembers the events only this January when Jens Stoltenberg, the NATO secretary-general, visited Japan and Korea, one can sense, to paraphrase Shakespeare, “something rotten in the state of NATOstan”.

During the course of both fleeting visits, Stoltenberg pledged to foster bilateral relations due to the historic challenges that NATO is dealing with, such as the war in Ukraine. He went on to brag that NATO already has established liaison offices globally, the main ones in New York and Vienna, and particularly indicative is the one in Ukraine. At its foundation at the inception of the Cold War in 1949, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization comprised 12 nations set up at the behest of the U.S. The military bloc now comprises 31 members and is increasingly appointing itself with a global role.

As a reminder, NATO already has permanent liaison offices in the following countries: Belgium, Bulgaria, Canada, Croatia, Czechia, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Lithuania, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Spain, Turkey, the United Kingdom and the United States. A proposed Japan office caused considerable commotion.

NATO claims to be based on the right of states to determine their own foreign policy and to exercise collective self-defense. Despite lofty claims of upholding “democratic values”, the U.S.-dominated military alliance has been strong-arming a number of countries to join without their populations exercising a democratic mandate by holding referenda.

NATO likes turning its alleged allies into geopolitical dwarves held at gunpoint, regardless of their size or geography. Claims by the military bloc – that opening a regional liaison office in East Asia is merely an indicator of changing global security environment – sound euphemistic.

Some political analysts have observed that if NATO meanders into Asian affairs it will likely bring Russia and China even closer together. Ironically, the expansionism of the U.S.-led military bloc brings with it self-fulfilling prophecies. The global insecurity it incessantly warns about is of its own perception and making.

Nevertheless, Beijing is fully aware that if NATO places its head in a crouching tiger’s mouth, then one day it might get bitten off.

NATO has already brutally provoked the war in Ukraine, yet now the U.S.-led military vehicle wants to expand to the Far East. Its solicitous focus on Japan is particularly alarming given the vile history of Japanese genocidal aggression toward China.

That is a toxic thorn for China stuck into Asia and it will be therefore pulled out, according to the Global Times. The news outlet can be seen as reflecting the thinking of the political leadership in Beijing. The Chinese are thus fully aware of NATO’s encroaching thorns and they will not be sleep walking into disaster.

The Global Times continued: “Japan should not forget that while the Meiji Restoration made it richer and stronger, it also brought about the Westernization of Japan and its policy of leaving Asia and entering Europe, which at one time made the desire for empire extremely strong. The madness of pursuing Asian hegemony and sphere of influence led it to become a militaristic war-mongering demon, which brought deep disaster to Asian countries.”

Moreover, the Global Times’ editorial warned: “Japan wants to introduce NATO into Asia for its security. However, Japan’s security can never be achieved by relying on the military support of the U.S. or NATO. In fact, the more closely Japan cooperates with the U.S. or NATO militarily, the less it will obtain the security it wants, and the less likely it will be able to change its image as a geo-strategic dwarf.”

Don’t you just love how Beijing is calling a NATO spade a spade? “The sewage of the Cold War,” is how the Global Times referred to the U.S.-led military bloc.

And all that comes in perfect unison with Moscow’s increasingly contemptuous views of NATO as a threat to world security.

Lest we forget, the United States has instigated the vast majority (80 per cent) of the 200 or so armed conflicts that are estimated to have occurred globally from the end of World War Two until 2001. If we include the post-9/11 decades up to the present, the American responsibility for global violence might be as high as 90-95 per cent. And this is for a nation whose population is only 4.25 per cent of the globe. How utterly nefarious and condemnable is that odious record?

Shall we now mention some significant military mathematics? The Economist reports on research comparing military power of the U.S. vs China. The U.S. military budget is four times bigger than that of China. But the Chinese Navy surpassed the U.S. Navy as the biggest in the world sometime around 2020. The Pentagon continues using euphemisms, such as it considers China a “pacing challenge”.

The dilemma that appears to exasperate Western military commanders is whether China can continue on the same path and expand its military capacity to challenge the U.S. hegemony, or whether China’s relative power might be reaching its peak. The shipbuilding industry requires exorbitant investment since it requires a booming industrial base. The dilemma for the U.S. is its economic stagnation and the number of its warships are declining, in contrast to a sharp increase in the number of Chinese ships.

As for the total number of military vessels from aircraft carriers to submarines, frigates and destroyers, China surpasses the U.S. by a ratio of 390:296. It is forecast that China will have 400 warships in the next two years whereas the number of American ones will decrease to around 290. The ones which have fallen into obsolescence are to be written off. The Chinese advantage stems from having the biggest shipbuilding industry in the world. Some 44 per cent of all the ships built worldwide in 2021 were from Chinese yards.

China and its military forces are currently fully focused on Taiwan whereas the U.S. forces are scattered around globally in over 800 bases owing to untenable hegemonic ambitions. China has pledged to reclaim Taiwan if necessary by force, so tensions are running high on both sides.

Time though works in Beijing’s favor.

In the long run, the situation will in all likelihood turn sour even more because NATO cannot stop its woeful warmongering and waging endless wars.

China recently completed the sixth test run of the main rocket engine for its future crewed lunar missions, setting a new record in the sector, according to the China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation.

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main qimg 6ea5f161dbc6a5adf190e21aed62fe32

The 130-tonne class liquid oxygen kerosene rocket engine had a cumulative test run time of 3,300 seconds after this recent trial, a new record for the longest trial of a single 100-tonne class engine in China, according to the corporation.

As the main engine for the country’s future crewed lunar missions, the device needs higher comprehensive performance and reliability.

The trial broke the previous record for the longest test run, which was achieved less than six months earlier, according to the corporation, adding that the operating time of the engine in the trial exceeded its required mission by more than 10 times, which it said verifies its reliability.

Crewed lunar landing before 2030

China plans to achieve a crewed lunar landing before 2030, Lin Xiqiang, deputy director of the China Manned Space Agency, announced on May 29 at a press conference.

Lin said China recently initiated the lunar landing phase of its manned lunar exploration program, aiming to achieve China’s first manned landing on the moon by 2030 and carrying out lunar scientific exploration and related technological experiments.

According to Lin, China is also aiming to master key technologies, such as an Earth-moon manned round-trip, a short-term stay on the lunar surface, a human-robot exploration, performing multiple landing, roving, sampling, researching tasks, returning, and forming an independent capability of manned lunar exploration.

The international lunar research station

China formally established its lunar exploration “Project Chang’e” in 2004. In December 2020, the Chang’e-5 lunar probe brought back 1,731 grams of samples from the moon, marking the completion of the three-step lunar exploration program of orbiting, landing and returning.

In 2022, the China National Space Administration announced a plan to begin the fourth phase of the lunar probe program, including launching three missions dubbed the Chang’e-6, Chang’e-7 and Chang’e-8, and the construction of an international lunar research station on the moon, said Wu Weiren, the chief designer of the lunar exploration program.

The Chang’e-6 mission is expected to retrieve lunar soil samples from the far side of the moon around 2024, which will be the first time humankind will collect soil samples from the far side of the Earth’s natural satellite.

The Chang’e-7 mission is prepared to land on the south pole of the moon, looking for traces of water, Wu said, adding that the Chang’e-8 mission, which is planned to be launched around 2028, is designed to work with the Chang’e-7 to lay the foundation for the building of a lunar research station on the south pole of the moon, and facilitate a series of experiments on lunar resources exploration and utilization.

The chief designer also said China welcomes partners and scientists from across the globe to join the construction of the international lunar research station on the moon, as the country plans to launch multiple spaceflight missions to finish the station’s basic structure by 2030.

Former FBI agent REVEALS truth in UFO whistleblower story

The abuse of press freedom was more evident in Hong Kong during the chaos a few years back, if that’s what was considered a victory.

That rare victory sent ripples through press freedom movement in Asia like when readers consider journalists as script writers for a fictional political drama.

True journalism is as dead as a do-do bird can be.

I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to tell you my story.

I was that 8 year old child once.

My father was an alcoholic, my mother severely depressed. I raised my sister and provided her with the emotional support when our parents were too immature and abusive to give that to us.

I would get beat up, thrown against the wall, kicked, punched repeatedly on the head by my father, his rage would shake my soul. My sister and I would drown ourselves in books, homework and play as quietly so we wouldn’t anger our father. Our mother was verbally abusive, she would break everything in our home.

My father would tell us to get lost, to get out of his way, to shut up, leave him alone, brain dead kids.

He hated us.

One day my sister and I went to the neighbors house and asked them if they had candy.

It was an elderly lady and her husband. They giggled and came out with candy for us and told us to have a good day.

A few days passed and we knocked to ask them again. This time they pulled out some chairs and sat down with us. We talked for a few hours. We told them about our hobbies, favorite books, favorite everything. They gave us candy and told us to go home and not be out so late.

The next day we visited the elderly couple and they played the piano for us. We were so amazed by their warm atmosphere, love and kindness.

Some days we would go visit and they would just sit on the front porch showing them our sweet rock or toy collections, our art and we would even sing classical songs with them.

With time they began to tell us they were busy, then they didn’t open the door anymore.

We wanted to do something nice for them and picked out flowers for them and left them at their doorstep.

I still look back and I’m thankful to have met such a sweet couple. I strive to be like them one day as an old lady with my husband.

You have no obligation, but for me those strangers meant something worth remembering in my rough childhood.

Low and behold…Blinkedin… Biden… Crazy….

I caught a low grade cold from my chief engineer. It’s like COVID only about 1/20 the intensity.

Maybe it is COVID, only a different intensity. Who knows.

But I’m on the mend.

I am finally starting to get better.

Still have a sore throat, but the headaches are lessening. The coughing is down, but the spitting of flem still continues.

I see light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m still living life.

Are you?

Still rebuilding the damage to the world-line templates. Who ever caused the damage over-estimated their abilities. Did not understand the nature of the task that they had before them, and had a elementary understanding on the nature of the template construction.

But damage is damage.

Oompaloomas still churning on, but the mushroom growths are still there, getting flattened, but it’s a lot of repairing that must take place. All is in good hands. Do not worry.

This low grade cold is giving me vibrant, and unusual dreams. Almost hallucinatory. There’s meaning in them… sort of… maybe…

Oh well.

Todays…

Not according the the Chinese government he isn’t.

Though all the Western government propaganda media say that he is.

main qimg 0a89bf70b9a4c69f2429174d602d241d
main qimg 0a89bf70b9a4c69f2429174d602d241d

NYT, CNN, AP, FOX, NYTImes, APnews are all reporting this.

Now read the article carefully.

  • He intends to visit China.
  • He is planning to go to China.
  • Nothing has been confirmed.
  • There are no travel plans.

And what about China?

Nothing at all on the Chinese news outlets. And most especially the Chinese government official website.

On the Chinese official websites we have this…

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main qimg 1d1f8d422cfbf46dc3678df62e0ae9df

Unless it is written on a Chinese website it is just another one of the endless string of lies.

Do NOT believe it.

As far as I can ascertain, there are no formally scheduled visits between China and the United States in any capacity what so ever.

main qimg 65400b2ff386163a5e94e8a36c07b587
main qimg 65400b2ff386163a5e94e8a36c07b587

That’s correct. The AI model cannot confirm these events as they are fictional.

There is NOTHING.

I strongly suggest you stop listening to Western “news”. It’s all science fiction, with no basis on reality what so ever.

BUT…

A former CIA boss flew to China, and paved the way for his visit. Don’t ya know. And it was because of that plow-though that China accepted the visit.

And we all know what happened next…

Yep. That Biden clown-show and bullshit begins anew.

Best not even bother to read the “news”.

Meanwhile in the USA…

I-95 Bridge Collapse Near Philadelphia

A tanker fire underneath Interstate 95 northbound in Philadelphia has caused part of the highway to collapse.  Multiple lanes of the highway were reduced to rubble.  I-95 is closed in both north and southbound directions in that area.

Video from TV Station ABC-6 shows the scene:

The fire broke out just after 6 a.m. Sunday on Cottman Avenue, right underneath the I-95 overpass.

The scene is between Exit 32 for Academy Road and Exit 30 for Cottman Avenue in the Tacony section of the city.

Manholes have been exploding in the area because of the fire. Everyone is being asked to avoid the scene.

I-95 will remain shut down for an extended period of time.

Q: As a flight attendant, what’s the best thing you’ve seen another passenger do for another passenger or for you?

A: I’m not a flight attendant but was asked to answer the question.

I was on a flight from Utah to San Jose which was about 2 hours. There was a woman that was obviously a nervous new mom, her baby was less than 3 months old and she could not get him to settle down. The baby was crying and screaming disrupting everybody’s travel.

I was traveling alone, but I was 3rd of 8 children and I was changing diapers by the time I was five. After the seatbelt light went off I went and talked with her.

I discovered the baby was cold and gassy. She was exhausted hadn’t slept well. I asked her if she minded if I hold her baby for a while. I was doing the bounce step down the aisle not very far and burped her baby. After about 10 minutes I went to return the baby to the tired mom to find she was asleep.

I didn’t mind I enjoyed playing with babies I left her a note with my name and seat number. I entertained the baby the rest of the trip. it’s not like I can go anywhere mid flight on an airplane.

I half expected the mom-to-be furious that I wasn’t right there when she woke up. Instead she was really gracious and appreciated the nap and a break from being Mom 24/7.

I was playing peek-a-boo with him when I felt someone watching me. The baby was giggling, I turned over my shoulder to see Mom smiling and she thanked me profusely.

I actually appreciated the distraction.

We talked a bit heading to baggage and I gave her her more tips. We never saw each other again, but I like to think her trip went better and had an easier time managing a new baby after the experience.

In the 1913 study, The Sexual Impulse in Women, it was reported that about 75% of women suffered from “hysteria,” a condition with symptoms ranging from headaches to epileptic fits to verbal outbursts. It was essentially akin to epilepsy.

Any female behavior could be deemed as an indicator of hysteria, and the primary treatment was pelvic massage: clitoral stimulation was a palliative cure for this condition.

Who was supposed to handle this? The doctors, who apparently found no pleasure in doing so!

For Victorian women, clitoral stimulation was not even considered a sexual act, as it was believed that they were incapable of experiencing sexual desire.

If a woman moaned during a pelvic massage, she was said to be having a “hysterical paroxysm.” After reaching this state, patients would temporarily ease their issues.

The invention of the steam-powered vibrator came as a savior for these specialist doctors, relieving them from the hand-cramping work.

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main qimg 96e19ca390f693b7f5ada5da1cf1e30a lq

Little Mermaid BOMBS in China: U.S. calls Chinese RACIST!

Smothered Chicken

Here’s a real southern specialty. We love Smothered Chicken served over noodles or rice with a sprinkling of crisp-cooked bacon and shredded cheddar cheese (or whichever cheese you prefer). This recipe is easily halved. If you halve the recipe, you can make it in a large skillet instead of a Dutch oven.

smothered chicken 4 560x840
smothered chicken 4 560×840

Ingredients

  • 10 tablespoons vegetable or extra-virgin olive oil, divided
  • 2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts (or thighs) or 1 whole chicken, cut up
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour plus 4 tablespoons, separated
  • 2 medium size onions, sliced
  • 4 teaspoons minced garlic
  • 6 cups chicken stock
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
  • Rice or noodles for serving

Instructions

  1. Heat 8 tablespoons of oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat.
  2. Season chicken with salt and pepper to taste.
  3. Dredge chicken breasts lightly in 1 cup flour then brown in Dutch on both sides.
  4. When browned, remove chicken from Dutch oven and drain on paper towel. Set aside.
  5. Scrape the bottom of the Dutch oven to loosen all the browned bits.
  6. Add the onion slices to the Dutch oven and saute for about 5 minutes until a bit browned and tender.
  7. Add minced garlic and saute for 1 minute.
  8. Add remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to Dutch oven, then sprinkle on remaining 4 tablespoons flour.
  9. Allow the flour to brown, whisking constantly, then pour in chicken stock and water and whisk together.
  10. Turn heat to high to bring to a boil and season with salt and pepper.
  11. Whisk in Worcestershire sauce, then turn heat down to medium.
  12. Add the chicken back to the Dutch oven and cover with lid. Allow the sauce to thicken until it coats the back of a spoon and chicken is tender.
  13. Serve over rice or noodles. Garnish the top of each serving with crisp bacon bits and cheese, if desired.

Russia SEIZES BILLIONS In EU Assets

https://youtu.be/xcXMq0aiCEk

One Year in China

…is a lifetime in America

Jun 11, 2023

.

2023 06 11 14 57
2023 06 11 14 57

The stats have been audited, and here’s China’s 2021 track record:

  • Eliminated extreme poverty.
  • Achieved 98% home ownership.
  • Mastered Covid, with a death rate 0.6% of America’s.
  • Sold $140 billion retail online in 24 hours. Amazon’s record is $5 billion.
  • Made 55% of global energy savings.
  • Generated enough renewable energy, 1 TW, to power every home in China.
  • Produced a new billionaire and 300 millionaires every work day.
  • Completed new train lines in seven countries, including Laos’ first.
  • Ran 12,000 cargo trains to and from Europe, up 30% yoy.
  • Joined RCEP, the world’s biggest trade pact.
  • Launched the world’s first central bank digital currency.
  • Grew GDP by $1+ trillion PPP, 4x America’s.
  • Dominated scientific research and issued the most patents of any country.
  • Built three exascale computers + one for AI.
  • Brought two gas-cooled Pebble Bed nuclear power plants online.
  • Brought a cheap, safe thorium reactor online (no expensive, toxic uranium).
  • Certified a Covid treatment that reduces hospitalizations and deaths 78%.
  • Became the world’s largest movie market.
  • Built a programmable quantum computer 10,000x faster than Google’s.
  • Operated the first integrated, 3,000-mile, commercial quantum secure network.
  • Installed one-million 5G base stations. Tibet has better 5G service than New York.
  • Communicated between satellites 1,000x faster than radio waves, via lasers.
  • Successfully fired the world’s most powerful solid fuel rocket engine.
  • Flew three hypersonic missiles around the planet.
  • Released a fractional orbital bombardment missile while traveling 17,000 mph.
  • Commissioned three warships simultaneously to become the biggest navy by far.
  • Became the richest country on earth.

2023 06 11 14 58
2023 06 11 14 58

I will publish the 2022 list next week, and a 2023 half-year report next month.

Did reading the list make you pause and think? If it did, perhaps you would forward it to thoughtful friends.

She’s EXPOSING the truth in China, and they’re furious

Operation Z: The Last Chance Against Nazism

With thanks to Batiushka, the writer

Introduction: Two Civilisations

The tragic Washington-Moscow war which is starting to come to an end after nine long years on the battlefields of the Ukraine, where very many Ukrainian men are dying in futility, may well be entering its last year. The Western arming of the Kiev regime which began the war and prolonged it is the result of the attempt by the Western world to expand eastwards in yet another ‘Drang nach Osten’. Once more the West crossed over the civilisational line, which separates Western Secularism from Orthodox Christianity and runs through the far west of what is at present called the Ukraine. More exactly it runs through Galicia, formerly part of south-eastern Poland, formerly part of the ill-fated Habsburg Empire, centred in Lemberg/Lviv/Lvov. It is a civilisational line which should not be crossed. When France and its allies crossed it by invading what was then the Russian Empire in 1812, it led straight to the downfall of Napoleon. When Austro-Hungary crossed it by invading Serbia in 1914, it caused World War I and, ultimately the tragedy of 1917, when a Western atheist ideology was imposed by Non-Russians on the former Russian Empire and killed tens of millions of its hoodwinked peoples.

When Nazi Germany crossed that line by invading what was then the USSR in 1941, it led it to its suicidal downfall, the destruction of Berlin, and to lose World War II. After Washington crossed that same line by overthrowing the democratically-elected Ukrainian government in 2014, Washington suicidally signed the death-warrant of its own US-run, dollar-driven, unipolar Western world. For the centre of Western Secularism is today the American Empire elite in Washington, however much it disguises itself with euphemisms like the EU, NATO, the G7, the ‘free world’, the ‘international community’, the ‘rules-based order’ etc. And the centre of Orthodox Christian Civilisation, however far it has fallen, lapsed and been deformed and divided, is still in Moscow. Whenever Western Secularism, as ever inspired by the Pagan Roman example, has tried to expand eastwards in order to steal land and exploit resources, whether it was under Charlemagne, the Teutonic Knights, the Poles, Charles XII, Napoleon, Hitler or Biden, it has failed. Such is the case again today. Some people never learn.

Why Civilisation is at a Turning-Point

At the Victory Day Parade in Moscow on 9 May 2023 President Putin stated that ‘Civilisation is at a turning-point’. He was referring to the war in the Ukraine between the West and the Rest that began in 2014 and declared that the neocon ambition of American hegemony is ‘insane’, adding that, ‘any ideology of superiority is criminal’. He also stated that ‘the globalist elites keep insisting on their exceptionalism; they pit people against each other, divide societies, provoke bloody conflicts and coups, sow hatred, Russophobia and aggressive nationalism, destroying values that make humans human’. He described Washington’s ‘rule-based order’ as ‘a system of robbery, violence and suppression on the international stage’. He compared this to the Russian view, the view of the vast majority, that there are ‘no unfriendly peoples in East or West’, that ‘the Ukrainian people are hostage to a coup d’etat and a regime that is in the hands of the West’. However, he promised that ‘we shall defeat terrorism’. On 23 May, he repeated that ‘Russia will end the war that the West started in the Ukraine’.

Meanwhile, in Washington, the neocon supporters of the Neo-Nazis are repeating the mistake of the old Nazis. The latter thought that they could defeat Russia so then they could move on to the (as they saw it) bigger problem of defeating the Anglo-Americans, not realising that they were being defeated outright in Russia. Today, the Neo-Nazis similarly want to move on to the (as they see it) bigger problem of defeating China, not realising that they too are being defeated outright in Russia. Blinded by the same hubris as the old Nazis, today’s neocon propagandists do not understand this. Russia is not at war; if it were at war, it would have destroyed everything before it, the whole infrastructure of the Ukraine would long ago have been wiped off the face of the earth. This is a military operation to free Russian-speaking Ukraine and demilitarise and denazify the rest of it. This is why it is preserving civilian lives, towns and infrastructure with great care. This is an existential war for Russia; for the neocons it is only a war for their hubris and vanity. Civilisation is at a turning-point because the threat from Washington is to destroy all Civilisations.

Russophobia And The ‘War’ That Could End Tomorrow

Where does Western Russophobia come from? It is very ancient, for it began with ‘The Father of Europe’, Charlemagne, whose prize, unsurprisingly, was awarded to the Ukrainian actor-president on 14 May in Aachen, together with another 2.7 billion euros of German military equipment. It comes from the same hatred that the West feels towards the Muslim world. The (Orthodox) Christian world and the Muslim world are not exotic and therefore cannot be mocked as the West mocks distant Civilisations, but are the nearest geographical rivals to the Western world – therefore they must be destroyed. We can see this in old history; the Crusades were directed against Muslims in Spain, then in the Middle East and North Africa, but also against Christians in Constantinople (sacked in 1214 by barbaric Western troops) and then in Russia, which the equally barbaric Teutonic Knights tried to destroy in 1242.

However, all of this was only after the long centuries when the Western elite had murdered and raped its way through the Western peoples, enslaving in their barbaric feudalism Gauls, Saxons, Celts, Mozarabs, Milanese, English and Slavs alike. Sadly, the barbarians are not, as some imagine, at the gates, they have been in control from the outset for over a thousand years, tearing away the people from their saints. Deceit has always been their way. ‘Castles, dungeons and torture-chambers are good for you’, claimed the barbarian sadists. But modern Western Democracy is only the same castle racketeering – vote for us or else. Thus, on the 5 May, the notorious ‘we are the garden, they are the jungle’ Borrell, the European Union’s racist foreign policy chief, said in Florence, ‘If I stop supporting the Ukraine, certainly the war will finish soon’. ‘Ukraine will fall to the invading Russian forces in a matter of days without military support from Western countries’. His words denote the intensely aggressive and warmongering mentality inherent in the barbarian Western elite. They could end conflict and death, but they refuse to do so, willing to fight until the last hoodwinked Ukrainian is dead. Indeed, only the unhoodwinked will be left alive.

Operation Z

The Russian Operation is called Operation Z, named after the last letter of the alphabet, because it is the last chance for Civilisation to survive the Anti-Civilisation of the Western world. And any Civilisation means the Global Majority, called the Global South. The Russian Federation deals with the Global Majority, from which the Western world has isolated itself. Thus, when President Macron declared that Russia is becoming the vassal of China, what he means is that France long ago became the vassal of the USA, whereas Russia and China are part of the multipolar world. Similarly, those in the Western world like the German Chancellor Scholz, who state that the Ukraine is defending ‘Western values’ condemn themselves. The US-installed Neo-Nazi regime in Kiev has persecuted the Church and closed hundreds of them, imprisoned minorities, murdered Russians and banned other political parties. Yes, these are ‘Western values’ – Nazism is a unique Western value and ideology. Several German, EU and Canadian politicians are indeed the grandchildren of Nazis, some of them were members of the SS. This then is the meaning of Operation Z – the last chance to save the Global Majority, but also the last chance to save the Western world from itself.

On 20 May 2023 Artiomovsk/Bakhmut was at last liberated by pro-Russian forces after eight months of fighting and fifty thousand Ukrainian dead. The leaders of the G7 Western ghetto, meeting at that very moment for a weekend in Hiroshima, where a US president committed the genocide of Japanese civilians 78 years before, were not at all pleased and so pretended that the liberation had not taken place. Its mention in the Western media is strictly forbidden and censored, as is the critical condition of General Zaluzhny, the seriously wounded head of the Kiev Armed Forces. However, the introverted G7 itself is increasingly irrelevant to the real world, a relic from the past. The world has moved on since 1945, which is what the G7 is about, as it is formed from the Western victors and the two vanquished nations from that past era. Once more, however, the G7 pretended not to notice its own irrelevance and went on navel-gazing through its World War II eyes. There is no greater example of this than its fantasy that it can defeat Russia through its Kiev-based puppets, then overthrow the highly popular President Putin and divide up Russia between various transnational corporations.

Conclusion: The Prophecy of Atlantis

The result of the Western arming of the Kiev forces is that what began as a small police operation to liberate the people of the Donbass has become little short of a World War. It is Russia versus the Combined West. Russia has concluded that nothing save total victory will make the Americans and their British and EU poodles understand that it means business and there will be a neutral, sovereign Ukraine independent of US control, so no longer a hostile neighbour. As President Vladimir Putin told the Russian Parliament last July: ‘We have already heard a lot about the West wanting to fight us ‘to the last Ukrainian.’ This is a tragedy for the Ukrainian people. But everyone should know that, by and large, we have not started anything in earnest yet’. What will the USA do once it has lost in the Ukraine? It will just abandon it, just as it abandoned Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, and return to its big island across the ocean 4,000 miles away. Then the world will be free.

Here will be prepared the Second Atlantis. Yes, Atlantis, for Plato’s story of Atlantis was never history, but in fact a prophetic warning for the future. The story of the fictional island of Atlantis was an allegory about hubris and concluded with Atlantis falling out of favour with the gods and sinking into the Atlantic Ocean.  As it seems now, this story is precisely about the USA, which is the real Atlantis, which will sink beneath the waves of hubris and depravity. However, the story is even more than that, it is also about all those who associate themselves with the USA, for example, in Western Europe, not forgetting the Russian oligarchs and traitors who so admire the West that they choose to live in New York, London, Tel Aviv or elsewhere in the Western world. This is the warning and, alarmingly, it is almost too late for it to be heard. Most are not listening to the prophecy, but the writing is on the wall. Time is almost up.

India rejects US’ offer ahead of PM Modi visit:

'Not suitable, has no intention of joining NATO plus...'

The critical remarks from India came weeks after a powerful Congressional Committee recommended strengthening NATO Plus by including India.

Article HERE

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How important covering up is.

When all hell breaks loose, people are screaming, running for their guns, trying to get to their cars, or trying to reach the top floor of tall buildings for some reason.

But what if you don’t have a gun, or you can’t get to a car, and you get cornered by a zombie?

What’s your best defense? Your first one? Before you even pick up a weapon?

What you’re wearing on your body, that’s what.

Zombies attack with their teeth. Human teeth, as I’m sure you’re aware not the best at biting through live flesh.

As long as you cover your body with something that can withstand human teeth, you’ll be much safer.

One type of body covering that can be acquired easily and is effective against zombie attacks is the good old motorcycle gear.

Motorcycle pants, jackets, and gloves are designed to prevent road rash injuries and are very tough.

main qimg 47a282db17cd40cc5d00a24e4f20afa3 lq
main qimg 47a282db17cd40cc5d00a24e4f20afa3 lq

(Maybe lose the heavy helmet).

Good running shoes can also come in handy.


Covering the body, especially the arms, neck, and legs can be very useful, and may be your last line of defense.

When hit in the face with a zombie apocalypse, let’s always remember to cover up, then we can run screaming for our guns or cars or the nearest tall buildings.

Have you ever found a baby lying in the middle of the street crying, all alone, hungry, not getting the love it needs, not getting the food it needs, starving and dying?

This is how narcissist parents treat their children. And they learned this from their parents.

Narcissists do not care for anyone or anything but themselves! They have no idea how to CARE or LOVE anyone.

They are 100 percent occupied with their own wants, interests, desires and needs.

The baby has to be JUST like THEM.

Love is conditional. It is based 100 percent on how the narcissist wants the child to be.

The narcissist feels that they can show the world what a PERFECT PARENT they are!!!

The baby is not allowed to be a seperate person with their own wants needs and desires.

And if that baby does have any wants, needs or desires of their own then the narcissist feels abandoned and will PUNISH that child to conform to what THEY want need and desire.

If the child doesn’t conform or does doesn’t matter (confusing right!!). This is a method of coercion to control everyone in the family.

EVERYONE in the family will do the narcissists bidding. These words are not spoken, the child either knows how to read the parents mind or harsh treatment will be brought down.

If the child does do what the parents want it is belittled and double binded into subconscious submission as the narcissist needs to have IT (the child is an object to a narcissist) to regulate their emotions.

Without the child there the narcissist cannot regulate their emotions and will feel empty. They will absolutely panic if there isn’t someone around to regulate their emotional state of mind.

Essentially it’s like the child as a real person doesn’t exist and that it’s just an extension of the parents wants, needs and desires.

Try growing up in a family like this and being able to have any semblance of self…you won’t.

You will have turned into a false self to please the narcissist parents as a survival mechanism.

Either that or a way to overly empathetic person with no idea what a boundary is or why their gut feels so horrible around the narcissist. These people struggle with destroyed wants, needs and desires too.

But instead of everything being all about them their lives are all about others.

Both are the survival mechanisms of growing up in a narcissist family.

Both are like leaving a newborn child on their own to fend for themselves.

Both have not received and do not know how to receive real love.

P.S.-

Unless you have grown up in this kind of family dynamic you do not truly know what it is like in any way. I have been receiving a lot of comments from people saying “This isn’t true, they were just spoiled children, that’s what forms narcissists!” From my own experiences this is a half truth. It’s difficult enough to know you are simultaneously being spoiled and abused at the same time let alone for an outsider to understand this dynamic. That’s why they call it Covert…I have never talked to a narcissist who was just formed from being spoiled. It is a combination of the two (or just abuse). Most people will not see any abuse, just a rich spoiled child. Well, it’s Covert (hidden). And the child has no idea he’s been abused let alone that he’s a narcissist.

The US is dangerously playing with fire off the coast of China

MOSCOW, June 5, 2023, RUSSTRAT Institute. The Indo-Pacific Command of the US Armed Forces accused the Chinese Air Force that a Chinese fighter jet made an aggressive maneuver against an American aircraft over the South China Sea on May 26. The pilot of a Chinese fighter jet intercepted a spy plane, flying in close proximity to the RC-135, and creating a turbulence zone for the frightened American. According to Pentagon officials, the United States aircraft was simply ” performing a routine safe mission in the area.”

On June 3, the following conflict situation occurred between the PLA and the US Navy. The US Navy’s Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer USS Chung-Hoon and the Canadian Navy’s Halifax-class frigate HMCS Montreal have entered the Taiwan Strait. According to Beijing, the American ship ignored the appeals of the Chinese side, so the PLA Navy destroyer “clipped” the US ship, which forced the Americans to change course and reduce speed to avoid the crash, and then together with the Canadian frigate to leave the strait zone.

The US press, at the suggestion of its military, inflates the news about “dangerous maneuvers of a Chinese ship 150 meters in front of the nose of an American destroyer.” What the US military did off the coast of China, 12 thousand kilometers from their native land, Western media do not report.

The official representative of the Ministry of Defense of the People’s Republic of China, Wu Qian, called the actions of the Americans a provocation and an invasion of the zone of vital interests of China. At a meeting on the sidelines of the Singapore Security Summit, Chinese Defense Minister Li Shangfu said: “If someone tries to separate Taiwan from China, the Chinese military will not hesitate for a second, and China will be reunited.”

Lloyd Austin, for his part, indicated that the United States will continue to use warships and aircraft in international waters and skies near China, as well as continue to support Taiwan. Is it any wonder that Li Shangfu, who is under US sanctions, refused to hold any talks with his American counterpart?

It is noteworthy that shortly before the scandals described, CIA Director Bill Burns made a trip to China. It was allegedly about stabilizing relations after the February incident with a spy balloon, which Washington considered Chinese.

Given that Burns traveled to Moscow shortly before Russia was forced to launch a CDF on the territory of the former Ukrainian SSR, it can be assumed that with adequate negotiations (on an equal footing, with the construction of an honest dialogue that takes into account the interests of all parties) The US representatives have big problems. This was also noticed by The American Thinker.

Analysts of the American publication explain the inconsistent, rude and unproductive policy of the White House by the incompetence and incompetence of the Biden administration.

They are echoed in the editorial office of The National Interest. They believe that the United States should not and cannot afford to seek primacy everywhere — for geographical reasons alone, American influence in remote regions cannot be dominant, and this is natural. Thus, the United States is unable to dictate its will to the Global South, especially in view of the weakening of American influence in Central Asia.

Why is the United States so uncompromising and aggressive? Americans have always lived at the expense of other countries. Unleashing wars on the territory of third countries, they received dividends from this. Times have changed, but the White House’s tactics have remained the same. The dissonance is amplified by the interests of the ruling circles of the United States, which for a long time do not coincide with the national interests of the former “hegemon”. For the implementation of domestic policy, the US authorities need extra-constitutional power, which can give a new military conflict. Therefore, Washington is mindlessly seeking war, even though the United States is not ready for it. Needless to say, such “games” put the world on the brink of nuclear catastrophe.

I was in a second rate art gallery and for some reason he had a bin labelled $2. I asked why $2 and he said it was better than just tossing it all away. Most of the stuff was awful and then I found it. This piece and I took it to the gallery owner and asked if he was sure. He said, give the me the $2 and it is yours. I took it home, and then studied the seal that I had seen in the bottom corner, it had been displayed in an art exhibit at the Columbia Exposition of 1892. I love this piece, I have had it on my various walls for 40 years now and an art appraiser asked me if I wanted to auction it. No, it is going to my family when I depart. Best $2 spent ever for me. The seal in the corner is just below the matting, not viewed here.

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Oh man, I almost did get fired for this…

About twenty years ago I used to teach kindergarten. There was a boy in my class, “D”, who had a rough home life. His mother was out of the picture because of intermittent jail time, and his father worked constantly as a car mechanic. Dad usually had a girlfriend to help him out with D. These women came and went before D had time to bond with them. It was just as well.

As the one female who spent the most consistent time with D, I became somewhat of a surrogate mother. Besides being a little rowdy and precocious, D was a good little guy with a big smile and freckles on his face. My heart went out to him. We had a successful kindergarten year together.

The following year my grade assignment changed to a first-second combination class. I got to loop (bring students from the previous year) a few students. Of course I brought D with me…he needed the stability of being with me another year. Well one day we were all singing and being kind of silly and D just would not stay in his chair. I teased him by saying I’d tape him to his seat if he didn’t sit down. Of course he didn’t, and begged me to tape him to his chair. I was caught up in the moment of silliness with all the kids and brought out the duct tape and wrapped the tape once around his upper thighs to his chair. There was nothing punitive about it. That little rascal stood up, chair and all, and danced with his back end wiggling with the chair attached. The rest of the kids thought this was hilarious, and D got a moment of attention that he enjoyed.

The chair dance lasted only a minute before I cut him loose, then we all left for an assembly. The kids were still giggling over all of this when the principal asked what was so funny. So I told him what just happened, and before I knew it I was being called into his office. The district HR person was there, as were the district attorneys and my union President. Needless to say I was reprimanded on a scale you wouldn’t believe. I was told that there was no statute of limitations on my actions and that it would stay in my personnel file indefinitely. I was basically told that if I stepped out of line again, I’d be fired. I was told not to talk about it with anyone, especially D’s father (whom they’d contacted), and never to have duct tape in my classroom-EVER! I felt like a criminal with duct tape being my weapon of choice.

In the days that followed D’s father tried repeatedly to contact me, and after no response sent me a letter saying he was worried about me and hoped D didn’t get me in trouble. I so wanted to reach out to assure him that D had done nothing wrong, but I would’ve been fired had I done so.

Fast forward fifteen years and a 20 year-old D came to visit me at school one day. We laughed about what happened and I sent him on his way with a job reference.

Yes, I understand the seriousness of my actions even though I meant no harm. Would it happen again? Not likely. It took me a few years of walking on eggshells to keep my reputation clean. And I still don’t keep duct tape in my classroom…

Southern Hamburger Pie

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1371591159055

Ingredients

  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1 pound ground chuck
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 small can corn or green beans, drained (optional)
  • 1 (9-inch) frozen pie shell
  • 5 slices Velveeta cheese, about 4 to 5 ounces
  • 1 can flaky biscuits

Instructions

  1. Begin thawing pie crust. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Cook ground beef and onion in a large skillet on medium heat, breaking up the beef with the back of a spoon, and cook until onions are soft.
  3. Drain excess fat and season with salt and pepper to taste.
  4. Add corn or green beans if using.
  5. Put meat mixture into the pie shell and evenly distribute the cheese over the top.
  6. Separate biscuits and layer in a circular pattern over the pie, covering it completely (you may not need all the biscuits).
  7. Cut a few small “steam slits” in the top and bake for about 20 minutes until golden brown.

Serves 4.

Make them happy, nothing should make you happier than to see them being themselves an dhabing an authentic smile on their face. Always find ways to make their life easier, and be there for them, not with advice, but with arms open and ears ready to hear without intervening or trying to fix the problem.

General of the Russian Army Valery Gerasimov talks with China’s General Li Shangfu

Chief of the General Staff of the Armed Forces, First Deputy Minister of Defence of the Russian Federation General of the Army Valery Gerasimov during talks with counterpart Li Shangfu from the People’s Republic of China:

‘Comrade General. It is a pleasure to welcome you.

First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your appointment to the post of Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Department of the Central Military Commission of the People’s Republic of China and wish you success in your responsible post in defending the motherland, strengthening its defensive capacity, and further modernising the People’s Liberation Army of China.

I am confident that your extensive experience will aid in the growth of the People’s Liberation Army as well as the expansion of military cooperation between our countries.

The visit to Moscow in April by Minister of Defence of the People’s Republic of China General Li Shangfu was of great significance for the development of defence cooperation between Russia and China.

We appreciate the fact that after his appointment to his post General Li Shangfu chose Russia as the first country for his foreign trip, as did Chinese President Xi Jinping, who paid a state visit to Russia in March.

President Vladimir Putin and President Xi Jinping have confirmed that the Russian-Chinese comprehensive partnership and strategic interaction are at the highest level.

Against the backdrop of recent global events, the decisions taken constitute long-term national development and security goals enshrined in our leaders’ joint statement, including issues of expanding military cooperation.

Coordination between Russia and the People’s Republic of China in the international arena has a stabilising effect on the world situation.

An example of this is joint military exercises both bilaterally and within the framework of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization and ADMM Plus that promote the deepening of positive defence contacts.

The practice of joint operational and combat training by the Russian Armed Forces and People’s Liberation Army of China should continue to be a priority in the future.

I am convinced that today’s talks will serve to further strengthen the Russian-Chinese strategic partnership in the defence sphere.

I’d want to take this occasion to encourage you to visit Russia whenever it is convenient for you’.

Article HERE

—o0o—

The Russian Military and the Chinese Military have open doors between them.  On the Russian side, we know what is happening and watch it daily.  On the Chinese side, the pressure, from the US and a new NATO office in Japan, is being ratcheted up unbelievably.  The latest:

The commander of US Indo-Pacific Command, Admiral John Aquilino, highlighted the military’s threatening posture towards China, speaking at the annual meeting of the National Committee on US-China Relations last month. The group is known for encouraging engagement between the world’s two largest economies.

In yet another confirmation that the White House has overturned the long-standing “strategic ambiguity” policy regarding Taiwan, Aquilino went so far as to say President Joe Biden and Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin have tasked him to win a war against China if Beijing attacks the island.

“What I can tell you is the secretary and the president have tasked me with two missions. The first is to prevent this conflict. And then the second one is if I fail at Mission One to be ready and prepared to fight and win… the United States military is manned, trained, equipped, postured and ready to execute both of those missions,” the INDOPACOM chief said.  https://libertarianinstitute.org/news/indopaccom-chief-the-us-is-ready-to-fight-and-win-a-war-with-china/

As I’ve explained before, Taiwan is the word, it is the name.  It is easily remembered by most that actively support a war against China.  This war, and the possibility that there will be one is actively being prepared for.  We see the US encroaching in the Asia-Pacific, under the name Indo-Pacific and doing their preparatory work, not only regarding Taiwan, but the full first island chain and various countries are being set up as war proxies, militarised and weaponized.  Think of the Philippines and South Korea, Japan, and Australia being the bigger ones.  It is quite actively being discussed.

This war is planned as a boots-on-the-ground war + proxies.  It may look at the moment as if it is a lost cause and the US + NATO are not prepared and from our circles, the ability to fight a war is questionable.

Yet preparations are being done actively and this is why Chinese and Russian militaries hold joint aerial strategic patrols in the Asia-Pacific region.  The last patrol consisted of Chinese H-6K bombers and two Russian Tu-95 bombers, escorted by two unidentified Chinese fighter jets.  They flew together over the East China Sea and the Sea of Japan on the 6th of June, just a few days ago.

What is not generally known, is that this is not an exercise, but Chinese reports call this a patrol amidst rising tensions and US provocations in the region.  The Shangri-La dialogue was taking place and what is also not generally known is that a PLA Navy flotilla consisting of a 055 large destroyer Anshan and a 054A frigate Linyi sailed from the East China Sea through the Tsushima Strait into the Sea of Japan a day before the aerial patrol.  In addition, the Russian Pacific Fleet launched an exercise in the Sea of Japan and the Sea of Okhotsk on the 5th, sending over 60 warships and 35 aircraft, according to a statement released by Russia’s Defense Ministry on the day.

Was there military coordination between the Russian Pacific Fleet and the PLA Navy flotilla and the aerial patrol?  I don’t have anything that specifically tells me so, except the readout of the conversation between Valery Gerasimov and Li Shangfu that talks about strengthening the Russian-Chinese strategic partnership in the defense sphere and the open-door policy.  I have a musing on probability though.  I’d love to see the document between the militaries where they spell out the probability of kinetic action in the region vs expected timing.  One would think there is such a document and one would think it is a continually updated document, not passive.

Currently, there are large-scale PLA drills around Taiwan and Xi Jinping called on Chinese border troops to enhance their capabilities in border defense and control to forge a “great wall of steel” along the country’s borders.

Yep. My family likes to shop at resale shops or yard sales. We play a game called Who got the best find today. Often Ill call my dad and say I won resale shopping today! Then detail what I found and why its a win. Or my mom will call me and tell me what they found.

There is no guilt though. Its all fun. Someone donated it or didn’t want it. We did.

The BEST story though is about a 1956 Harry Ferguson (Yes HARRY not Massey) tractor my dad found at an auction. It wouldn’t start. He walked over looked it over but didn’t touch anything. There were a bunch of Good Ole Boys standing around talking about it and why it wouldn’t run. My dad ended up paying about 50$ for it. A lot of money 45 years ago for a lawn ornament. After he took ownership he walked over fiddled with a wire and the thing started up. He says he got out of there as fast as he could he thought they might lynch him.

4 years back i and my dad went to purchase a pair of shoes from a footwear shop nearby. There was a man with a great height and physique , around the age of 30 sitting there holding a girl child of around 4 years. He kept seeing my dad for few seconds , later while going back he gave a pleasant smile and asked my dad

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“You are from’ x’ village right, with the home in the outskirts of the village”.

My dad was surprised and said “ya but sorry i couldn’t make out, how do u know me?”

He spoke with the calmness , pleasant smile on his face”i was one among the construction workers who built your house( he said it in a local slang ಗಾರೆ ಕೆಲಸ ).i used to sleep there only at night.I can’t forget those days. Happy to see you”

My dad was surpised hearing this”ohh, u still remember it. What are u doing now?”but my dad was not able to recognize him as it was around 10 yrs back

He said in the most humble way”i am the circle inspector here , came to purchase slippers for my daughter” and asked whether i was his daughter to which my dad replied yes , that man continued,’she was a small child when i last saw her, she is a grown up girl now ‘with the brotherly love in his eyes.

How can someone be so humble, the one who is a circle inspector now, recognized my dad and said that he had worked as a construction worker for his home without any hesitation even when my dad failed to recognize him. That humbleness he had when he spoke was just inspirational.

He remind me of one saying”wherever you go, whatever you become you should never forget your roots, you should be proud of them”

To all those who are asking who is a circle inspector, he is a police officer who is in charge of 2 or more police stations, he supervises the subinspectors of those stations.

One of the weirdest things about Japan is the way Japanese treat the watermelon.

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main qimg b09a170df10780c2b79c348950ffe8f6 lq

First of all, a watermelon, or “suika” is classified as a “vegetable” by many Japanese, not a fruit. If an English teacher asks “What’s your favorite vegetable?” to a student, a very likely answer will be “watermelon” (though “strawberry” is another popular choice). This is because traditionally, in Japan, “fruit” grew on trees and “vegetables” were basically any type of plant that grew above ground but not on a tree.

Second of all, in the summer time, Japanese children play the game suika wari (スイカ割, “smashing the watermelon”). They are blindfolded and given either a baseball bat (see above) or a wooden sword. The first child to successfully smash open the watermelon is the winner. It’s like smashing a piñata, basically.

The Densuke Watermelon is a rare “black” watermelon that is often auctioned off to the elite. It can go for $6,000. Don’t use that in a game of suika wari!

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main qimg 2a001893925cd560f41dd9252e09f557 lq

No, your eyes don’t deceive you. That watermelon really is almost US$200. Don’t knock it over… It is a watermelon to be *revered*.

China Orders 15,000 Iranian Drones

A very serious development has taken place: China has placed an order with Iran for 15,000 “Shaheed 136” military drones, with differing types of engines for different war fronts. The entities with whom China expects war?

According to a Commander with the Iran Revolutionary Guards Corps (IRGC) which accepted the order, China is preparing for war in Taiwan, Japan, and Australia.

Iran has created a huge business opportunity for themselves selling these drones, which appear to be incredibly effective for Russia inside Ukraine right now.

Based on how many they are already selling to Russia, Iran must already have tens of thousands; which should give pause to their pipsqueak, but big-mouthed neighbor, Israel.

Historically, this is interesting because ancient Persians were known for shooting crazy amounts of arrows into the sky against their enemies to completely overwhelm them.

And the entire world looks at the United States and sadly shakes its collective heads

A little bit dated post. Maybe two weeks old. I’m finally getting around to it.

So there was a meeting between Blinkin and Xi Peng inside of China. China remained firm and resolute, but the over all tone of the meeting was positive.

US-China pledge to stabilise ties after Xi-Blinken meeting

Earlier on Monday, Mr Blinken met for three hours with China's top foreign policy official, Wang Yi. Mr Wang presented an ultimatum on Monday, saying the US must choose between “cooperation or conflict”.

China’s president uses notably positive language despite no ‘big ticket’ agreements being reached. From HERE paywall.

.

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TELEMMGLPICT000339847521 16871664646560 trans NvBQzQNjv4BqvcbZMXX vCpvwlOvyIj3IvAom1AprPiz55zIIp jjTw

That feeling lasted for a good four hours, and then all HELL broke lose when President Biden starts to make fun of Xi Peng, calling him names, and generally being quite provocative…. and insulting.

As we can see plainly here…

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main qimg 6831c86ed8f248e81c980b78d91b50a1

Resulting in a very fierce Chinese response…

China hits back after Biden calls Xi a ‘dictator’

.

2023 06 22 07 42
2023 06 22 07 42

KENTFIELD, California/BEIJING, June 21 (Reuters) – China hit back on Wednesday after U.S. President Joe Biden referred to President Xi Jinping as a “dictator”, saying the remarks were absurd and a provocation, an unexpected flare-up following attempts by both sides to reduce friction.

Biden made his comments just a day after U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken completed a visit to China aimed at stabilizing relations that Beijing says are at their lowest point since formal ties were established in 1979.

At a fundraiser in California, Biden said Xi was very embarrassed when a suspected Chinese spy balloon was blown off course over U.S. airspace early this year. Blinken had said on Monday the chapter should be closed.

“The reason why Xi Jinping got very upset in terms of when I shot that balloon down with two box cars full of spy equipment in it was he didn’t know it was there,” Biden said.

“That’s a great embarrassment for dictators. When they didn’t know what happened. That wasn’t supposed to be going where it was. It was blown off course,” Biden said.

Xi became China’s most powerful leader since Mao Zedong after securing a precedent-breaking third term as president in March and head of the Communist Party in October.

He presides over a one-party system that many human rights groups, Western leaders and academics call a dictatorship because it lacks an independent judiciary, free media, or universal suffrage for national office.

Critics of Xi and his party are censored online and risk detention off line.

Biden also said China “has real economic difficulties”.

Biden as president has previously referred to China as “essentially” a dictatorship and “a place for the autocrat, the dictator,” while saying no other world leader wants to be Xi.

But Tuesday’s remarks about the Chinese leader were some of his most direct.

Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson Mao Ning called the remarks “extremely absurd” and “irresponsible” and said they seriously violated facts, diplomatic protocol and China’s political dignity.

“They’re an open political provocation,” she told a regular briefing.

2023 06 22 07 42a
2023 06 22 07 42a

U.S. State Department deputy spokesperson Vedant Patel, asked if Biden’s comments would affect future visits by U.S. and Chinese officials, said Washington continued to expect engagements “in due course, when the time is appropriate.”

“The president believes that diplomacy … is a responsible way to manage tensions, clear up misperceptions, avoid miscalculations and all of this in our interests to do that,” Patel said. “That does not mean of course we will not be blunt and forthright about our differences.”

LASTING DAMAGE UNLIKELY

AMERICAN Political analysts played down the likely damage to U.S.-China engagement.

“Biden’s big mouth is a loose cannon,” said Wu Xinbo, director of the Center for American Studies at Fudan University in Shanghai. He said the remarks would affect mutual trust, including in communications between the leaders, but would not erase what Blinken had achieved on his China visit.

Yun Sun, head of the China program at Washington’s Stimson Center, said she thought the U.S. side “wants to let this quietly go away.”

“And the Chinese will not want to blow this out of proportion, ruining the prospect of a process leading to Xi’s bilateral summit with Biden in November,” referring to a possible meeting when the United States hosts the APEC forum.

Blinken and Xi agreed in their meeting on Monday to stabilize the U.S.-China rivalry so it did not veer into conflict. While the visit did not yield breakthroughs, both sides agreed to continue diplomatic engagement with more visits by U.S. officials in the coming weeks and months.

Biden said later on Tuesday that U.S. climate envoy John Kerry may go to China soon. On Monday, he said he thought relations were on the right path and indicated that progress was made during Blinken’s trip.

Biden has often defined the current state of global politics as a battle between democracy and autocracy, and said democratically-led countries should establish economic ties to balance autocratic-led countries, aiming at Russia and China.

Beijing in the past has bristled at that definition. Xi told Biden during a November 2022 meeting that China has “Chinese-style democracy,” Chinese state news reported then.

Chiming in from Moscow, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov told reporters on Wednesday that Biden’s comments contradicted Blinken’s efforts to ease tensions with Beijing, describing the remarks as “incomprehensible”.

“However, that’s their business,” Peskov said. “We’ve our own bad relations with the United States of America and our very good relations with the People’s Republic of China.”

Other world leaders seemed reluctant to get involved. Asked repeatedly about the situation, the spokesperson of German chancellor Olaf Scholz said only: “The Federal Government has taken note of the American President’s statement.”

2023 06 22 07 43
2023 06 22 07 43

So you have to wonder, what is going on?

Perhaps this will provide some insight…

US Coast Guard ship transited Taiwan Strait after Blinken’s China visit -US Navy

Nope. Same bullshit. All the time.

2023 06 22 16 56
2023 06 22 16 56

TAIPEI, June 22 (Reuters) – A U.S. Coast Guard ship sailed through the Taiwan Strait on Tuesday in a transit that China described as “public hype”, after U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken having wrapped up a high-profile, widely watched visit to Beijing a day earlier.

The national security cutter Stratton made a “routine” Taiwan Strait transit on Tuesday “through waters where high-seas freedoms of navigation and overflight apply in accordance with international law”, the U.S. Navy’s 7th Fleet said on Thursday.

The politically sensitive strait, which separates China from the democratically governed island of Taiwan, is a frequent source of tension as Beijing steps up its political and military pressure to try to force Taipei to accept Chinese sovereignty.

“Stratton’s transit through the Taiwan Strait demonstrates the United States’ commitment to a free and open Indo-Pacific. The United States military flies, sails and operates anywhere international law allows,” the 7th Fleet added in its statement.

The mission happened the day after Blinken ended a visit to Beijing, in which the two countries agreed to stabilise their intense rivalry so it does not veer into conflict, but failed to produce any major breakthrough.

Taiwan’s defence ministry said the ship sailed in a northerly direction, and its forces monitored the situation which it described as “normal”.

The Chinese coast guard described the ship’s transit as “public hype”.

Chinese vessels tailed the U.S. ship “all the way”, a spokesperson at China’s coast guard said in a statement, adding that China will “resolutely” safeguard its sovereignty and security and maritime rights and interests.

A security source told Reuters the U.S. ship left the strait in the early hours of Thursday morning.

U.S. military vessels, and on occasion those of its allies, have routinely sailed through the strait in recent years, to the anger of China, which views such missions as provocation.

This month the U.S. Navy released a video of an “unsafe interaction” in the strait, in which a Chinese warship crossed in front of a U.S. destroyer operating with a Canadian warship.

Taiwan’s military reports almost daily Chinese incursions in the strait, mostly warplanes that cross the waterway’s median line, which once served as an unofficial barrier between the two.

On Wednesday, Taiwan said Chinese warships led by the aircraft carrier Shandong sailed through the strait.


US Troops Are in Peru to Counter Chinese and Russian Influence in Latin America, Reports Peruvian News Outlet

By Nick Corbishley

Peruvian troops’ “training alongside US forces will help to improve their capabilities and strengthen the operational performance of [Peruvian] Special Forces, boosting their interoperability with NATO systems and doctrine.”

As Peru descends even deeper into political chaos and ungovernability, the main priority for its unelected President Dina Boluarte is basic survival. So says a piece in the Peruvian daily La Republica, adding that Boluarte’s dire approval rating (14%-17%) is a result not just of the 60 protesters’ deaths on her watch but also her abject lack of management ability. As vice president, Boluarte helped to topple and replace her former boss, Peru’s elected President Pedro Castillo, now languishing in jail, sparking riots throughout the country. But since then (December 7), her short-lived presidency has brought nothing but bloodshed, chaos and division.

Peru is currently in the grip of its worst ever Dengue outbreak, which is hitting poor communities — many of the same communities that voted for Castillo — particularly hard. Five days ago, the Health Minister Rosa Gutiérrez resigned over criticism of her management of the crisis. Gutiérrez’s replacement, César Vásquez, faces allegations  in Peru’s Congress of influence peddling in early 2021. It is against this febrile backdrop that Boluarte chose to break the news five days ago that she will not be calling general elections until 2026 — despite the fact she has repeatedly pledged to call new elections some time this year, has zero democratic legitimacy, is broadly despised by the public and is under investigation for numerous human rights violations.

But Boluarte still enjoys the support of the US Embassy*, and for the moment that is what counts. In fact, there are 1,172 US soldiers on Peruvian soil right now or at least on their way there. As I reported in my May 26 post, Why Are US Military Personnel Heading to Peru?, the Boluarte government and Peru’s Congress — which ranks even lower in the public’s estimation than Boluarte — have authorised the entry of US troops onto Peruvian soil between June 1 and August 29. They also authorised the entry of 11 US military aircraft, two boats, two trucks, rockets, grenades, detonators, satellite communication equipment, machine guns, pistols and ammunition.

War Games in the New Cold War

Since that article, more details have seeped out about the US military’s presence in Peru, which is certainly out of the ordinary. US troops have entered Peru periodically for decades, but never for periods as long as this. “Juegos de Guerra”(War Games), an in-depth report published by the weekly newspaper Hildebrandt en sus trece, wagers that the main reason for the US troops’ mobilisation is as a show of force to Washington’s main strategic rivals, Russia and China, which are “eroding” US influence in the region.

“There is a global political confrontation between the United States and China and Russia. Peru is key because we are located at a strategic point in the Pacific basin, a gateway for China and access point to Brazil’s huge market on the Atlantic seaboard. We are a hinge”, Wilson Barrantes, former director of Peru’s National Intelligence Directorate (DINI), told the weekly newspaper.

Most of the US military personnel will be taking part in Resolute Sentinel 2023, a military exercise that will be staged across a number of regions of Peru between June and August. The 12th Air Force-led U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM) exercise was first held in 2021 when the US deployed 129 military personnel to Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala. A year later, the military contingent was multiplied by seven and Belize joined the list of participating countries. The third edition will be held for the first time in South America, in a single nation: Peru.

Before the exercise begins, a contingent of 42 members of the US Special Forces will participate in training with Peru’s Joint Intelligence and Special Operations Command, the Joint Special Force and the FAP Special Forces Group. An additional 160 US soldiers, manning nine aircraft, will train with personnel from the Peruvian Air Force, Special Forces (GRUFE), the Space Operations Centre (Copes), and the National Satellite Image Centre (Cnois). Then, a total of 970 members of the US Air Force (USAF), Space Force (USSF) and the US Special Forces will participate in Resolute Sentinel 2023. An additional 65 US military personnel will be staying put until the end of the year to oversee ongoing training programs.

Preparations for the exercise were thrashed out between the US Embassy in Lima and Ana Cecilia Gervasi Diaz, Peru’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. Gervasi Diaz was appointed to the role by Boluarte on December 10, just three days after Castillo’s impeachment and imprisonment.

NATO’s Moves in Latin America

In late December, shortly after Castillo’s fall, the Mexican geopolitical analyst Alfredo Jalife-Rahme warned in one of his video conferences (which we covered here ) that the United States and China are “in a war for Peru’s soul”. As I noted at the time, this “war” of which Jalife speaks is rather one-sided, given that China, unlike the US, does not tend to meddle in internal politics in the region, or at least hasn’t until now. Now, six months later, Hildebrandt en sus trece, a widely respected Peruvian news outlet, has reached a similar conclusion by tracing some of the steps that led to the US military’s current presence in Peru (text, including the excerpts of Admiral Craig Faller’s document, translated from the Spanish by yours truly):

“In May 2019 Admiral Craig Faller, then head of Southern Command, presented an internal document called “Enduring Promise for the Americas.” It was about a plan for winning allies in Latin America and the Caribbean up to 2027 with the goal of “improving security, protecting the US homeland and our national interests,” says the report.

In the document SOUTHCOM singles out two threats in the US’ “backyard”: Chinese influence and the growth of organised crime. On the spectre of Xi Jinping, Faller paints a bleak picture: “In many areas around the world, including this hemisphere, our competitive advantage is eroding (…) China has expanded its ‘One Belt, One Road’ initiative in Latin America and the Caribbean at a pace that could one day eclipse its expansion in South East Asia and Africa. Its trade and investments are increasing rapidly and it is now the biggest creditor to the region. Chinese control of deep water ports and infrastructure connected to the Panama Canal bolsters its operational position. Its investments in telecommunications and access to space tracking facilities put at risk military operations, intellectual property and data privacy, says the report.

Faller proposes three lines of action to counter US rivals. The first strategy consists of “increasing” US presence in the region by strengthening its alliances. “We will take advantage of our bilateral security assistance programs to enhance regional cooperation.”

As if to confirm this, the documents presented to the Peruvian Congress requesting authorisation for the entry of US troops and military equipment argue that (emphasis my own) “training alongside US forces will help to improve the capabilities and strengthen the operational performance of [Peruvian] Special Forces, boosting their interoperability with NATO systems and doctrine.”

Since as far back as 2019 the Peruvian Army — one of the last remaining institutional backbones in Peru, according to Jalife — has made no bones about its aspirations to join the North Atlantic Treaty Association at some point in the future, despite Peru’s geographic position perched on South America’s Pacific coastline.

NATO already has three partner countries in South America and is on the lookout for more. In 2017, Colombia became one of NATO’s eight global partners, along with Australia, Iraq, Japan, Mongolia, New Zealand, Pakistan and the Republic of Korea. The apparent benefits of membership include interoperability with NATO forces as well as the opportunity to participate in NATO-led operations and missions around the world. Like Colombia, both Brazil and Argentina are also “major non-NATO allies,” a designation awarded by Washington to close allies that have strategic working relationships with the US Armed Forces but are not members of NATO.

NATO is certainly keen to expand its influence in Latin America, especially in the context of the current conflict in Ukraine. In 2019, the US State Department even suggested  that Mexico should join the military alliance, despite the country’s long, albeit interrupted, history of neutrality. In 2020, the Atlantic Council even argued that securing Mexico’s membership could be key to keeping the United States, then under Trump’s presidency, “committed” to the Alliance. Between them Brazil (334,000 active military personnel) and Colombia (200,000) alone would contribute more assets to NATO than the European members annexed in the 1990s, according to the the Latin American Strategic Center for Geopolitics (also known as CELAG).

At an event on the sidelines of the 2022 NATO summit in Madrid, King of Spain Felipe VI proposed that Spain could serve as both a bridge and a nexus between NATO and the former Spanish colonies of Latin America — an idea that will no doubt have met with the approval of EU’s chief diplomat Josep Borrell.

A month ago, Colombia’s first left-wing President Gustavo Petro dismayed many of his supporters by committing  to strengthen Colombia’s cooperation with NATO in areas such as climate change, human rights, integrity building and cyber defence. As I’ve noted in a previous article

, Petro has his hands largely tied when it comes to dealing with the US military, given that Colombia is one of the biggest recipients of US military aid, is home to seven or eight official US military bases and has suffered through a decades-long civil war that is not nearly resolved. But even I was surprised by the extent to which Petro appears to have caved in.

Peru: “The Most Chinese Country in South America,” Until Now

Peru’s Ambassador to China during Pedro Castillo’s government, Luis Quesada, described China as the “most Chinese country in South America.” That was in July last year. At the time, there was even talk of upgrading China’s free trade agreement (FTA) with Peru. China is already Peru’s largest trading partner on both the exports and imports side while Peru is the second largest destination for Chinese investment in Latin America, behind only Brazil. A whopping 32% of Peru’s exports go to China, compared with just 12% to the US.

But according to the report in Hildebrandt en sus trece, citing other documents by Craig Faller, Washington’s soft-power arm USAID will also be playing a part in the US’ counter-offensive against China and Russia in Peru. The notes that USAID is investigating “foreign agents” in Peru, with a particular focus on “unethical” practices by Asian (read: Chinese) multinationals.

The companies that have so far been targeted allegedly include  China Railway Tunnel Group ― with whom the Ministry of Transport and Communications recently cancelled an $87 million contract ― and Cosco Shipping, which is under investigation by the Prosecutor’s Office for a landslide at one of the company’s tunnel construction sites at the $3.6 billion Chancay mega-port it is helping to build. Located 50 miles north of Lima, the port is expected to become (in the words of Mercopress news agency) “a colossal infrastructure that will transform the 65,000 people former fishing village into a milestone of China’s increasing trade and influence in Latin America.”

Chinese companies have also invested huge sums in Peru’s mining sector over the past decade and a half. But US and European interest in Latin America’s strategic resources is also on the rise as the race for lithium, copper, cobalt and other elements essential for the so-called “clean” energy transition heats up. In recent months the region’s largest economies have received state visits from both Germany’s Chancellor Olaf Scholtz and EU Commission President Ursula Von der Leyen, who last week unveiled €10 billion of Global Gateway investments in Latin America and the Caribbean.

As readers may recall, Craig Faller’s successor at the helm of SOUTHCOM, General Laura Richardson, has been explicit about the US government’s intentions to “box out” China and Russia from strategic resources in Latin America. And while Peru may not form part of the Lithium Triangle (Bolivia, Argentina and Chile), it does boast significant deposits of the white metal. By one estimate , it is home to the sixth largest deposits of hard-rock lithium in the world. It is also the world’s second largest producer of copper, zinc and silver, three metals that are also expected to play a major role in supporting renewable energy technologies.

The problem is that Peru’s economy is hugely dependent on Chinese money for its mining industry and infrastructure projects, and that economy is — as Jalife put it — one of the few “fractals” that continue to provide some degree of stability. And while the US and NATO may offer guns and war, they cannot compete with China on investment or trade.


* The US Ambassador to Peru, Lisa Kenna, is a former adviser to former US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and a nine-year veteran at the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). She almost certainly gave the green light for Castillo’s toppling during a meeting with Peru’s Defense Minister Gustavo Bobbio Rosas the day before (December 6). A retired brigadier general, Bobbio Rosas was appointed defence minister just one day before his meeting with Kenna and was replaced a couple of days later by Jorge Chavez Cresta , a graduate of the West Virginia National Guard and the William J. Perry Center for Hemispheric Defense Studies in Washington. According to a tweet by Peru’s Ministry of Defence, the meeting between Kenna and Bobbio was meant to tackle “issues of bilateral interest”.


So what is really going on?

Now you see why these days, the Chinese government prefers dealing with American oligarchs over any of their politicians?

main qimg 24aff702cd942942d259ce552845e1ec
main qimg 24aff702cd942942d259ce552845e1ec

You simply cannot treat a western democracy (especially one as polarised and unhinged as the US) like a normal state, because their politicians/political parties are more fixated on winning votes than any sort of long-term planning in domestic or foreign policies. Winning votes means staying in power, staying in power means receiving more bribes/”lobbying funds”.

Their promises and assurances are therefore meaningless. They can act friendly to your face, and then behave in a completely different way the very next day, with no chances of being held accountable.

So what China is beginning to do, is skip the middle man, and talk directly to the people in charge, the ones who own all the politicians.

Oligarchs care about business and profits. China can provide both. They can be reasoned with, and they don’t have to look “tough on China”.

The real owners of America are accountable not to childish voters who think they’re free, but to amoral shareholders and the rules of the “free market”. American businessmen, rather than diplomats, will be taking up a more important role in shaping the future of Sino-US diplomacy.

Not saying it’s necessarily a good thing, but it will restore some much needed maturity, gravitas and dignity to US foreign policy.


New Academy Awards Rules Exclude Movies That Aren’t “Woke” Enough!

Pennsylvania Dutch Banana Bread

banana bread
banana bread

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 1 1/2 cups unbleached regular flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 cup soft margarine
  • 3/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/3 cup oil
  • 2 cups mashed ripe bananas
  • 1 cup chopped nuts (optional)
  • Dash of cinnamon (optional)
  • Dash of nutmeg (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cream sugar and margarine; add eggs and mix well.
  2. Stir in baking soda, baking powder and salt.
  3. Add oil and stir again.
  4. Add bananas and mix.
  5. Add flour, 1 cup at a time, and stir well after each addition.
  6. Grease and flour 4 to 5 bread tins.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 hour. Test for doneness with wooden pick until it comes out clean.
  8. When cool, wrap in plastic.

Loaves may be frozen.

US tampering with political commitments on one-China policy: Chinese FM

Published: Jun 21, 2023 03:35 PM

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2023 06 22 16 50

Photo: CFP

The approach from the US that connects the peaceful resolution of the Taiwan question to its one-China policy is not reiteration and insistence of its commitment to China, but a tampering of its policy, Yang Tao, director-general of the Department of North American and Oceanian Affairs of the Chinese Foreign Ministry, said on Monday, as he briefed Chinese and foreign media about US Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s visit to China.

In an address on Monday as Blinken wrapped up his visit to China, he reiterated the US’ one-China policy, which he said was guided by the Taiwan Relations Act, the three Joint Communiqués, and the Six Assurances. While Blinken said “We do not support ‘Taiwan independence,'” he also said “We remain opposed to any unilateral changes to the status quo by either side. We continue to expect the peaceful resolution of cross-Strait differences.”

Yang said that the Taiwan question has always been the most important issue in China-US relations. The US has made a clear commitment on one-China by acknowledging there is but one China in the world, Taiwan is an inalienable part of China’s territory, and the Government of the People’s Republic of China is the sole legal government representing the whole of China.

“These commitments are clearly reflected in the three China-US Joint Communiqués, which also means that the US recognizes the real status quo in the Taiwan Straits, that is, there is only one China in the world, and both sides of the Taiwan Straits belong to one China. The US calls it the ‘one-China policy,'” said Yang.

However, the US has unilaterally attached the Taiwan Relations Act and the Six Assurances to its one-China policy, Yang pointed out, adding that these are not consensus reached by both China and the US and are opposed and not recognized by the Chinese side.

“The US’ characterization of the peaceful resolution of the Taiwan question as the core content of its one-China policy is a tampering of its political commitment,” said Yang.

When meeting with Blinken on Monday, Wang Yi, director of the Office of the Foreign Affairs Commission of the Communist Party of China (CPC) Central Committee, said China has no room for compromise or concession on the Taiwan question.

He urged the US to earnestly abide by the one-China principle set out in the three China-US Joint Communiqués, respect China’s sovereignty and territorial integrity, and unequivocally oppose “Taiwan independence.”

Global Times

Chinese premier calls for more cooperation between China, Germany

Visiting Chinese Premier Li Qiang on Tuesday said China and Germany should work more closely, make more contributions to world peace and development, play the role of stabilizer in the midst of changes, and speed up building a community with a shared future for mankind.

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2023 06 22 09 00

Premier Li remarked when co-chairing the seventh China-Germany inter-governmental consultation with German Chancellor Olaf Scholz.

They heard reports on the progress of China-Germany cooperation in relevant fields from the heads of 22 departments, including foreign affairs, economy and trade, industry, finance, justice, transport, education, science and technology, health, environmental protection, and development.

Li said that the consultation was efficient and pragmatic and achieved fruitful results. Under the current circumstances, the two sides should seize the opportunity of green transformation and promote the upgrading of cooperation.

Li proposed that China and Germany should partner in green development, strengthen communication and coordination on green and environmental issues, promote green energy technology development and industrial technology upgrading, and deepen cooperation in new energy vehicles, green finance and third-party markets.

China and Germany should adhere to a pragmatic and open attitude to better achieve mutual benefit and win-win results, Li said, adding the two countries should also strengthen cooperation in global economic governance, ensure the stability of international industrial and supply chains, and promote an early recovery of the world economy.

Scholz said the inter-governmental consultation mechanism reflects the special significance of the relations between the two countries.

The German side is willing to maintain close communication with China on all issues between the two countries and to jointly address global challenges such as climate change, food security and debt problems, he said.

Scholz said Germany has no intention to decouple from China and is ready to strengthen bilateral and multilateral cooperation with China to promote world development and prosperity.

The two sides agreed that bilateral cooperation is solidly based and dynamic and that it is in the interests of both sides to deepen cooperation at a higher level, with higher standards and higher quality, and to jointly maintain the stability of the global production and supply chains, which is also of great global significance.

The two sides also agreed to set up a dialogue and cooperation mechanism on climate change and a green transition, hold the third China-Germany High-Level Financial Dialogue as well as new editions of the Sino-German Environmental Forum and health dialogue, and continue to deepen cooperation in the fields of economy and trade, investment, automobile manufacturing, high-tech, new energy, digital economy, and humanities.

After the consultation, Li and Scholz witnessed the signing of a number of bilateral cooperation documents in the fields of climate change response, innovation, advanced manufacturing, and vocational education and met with the press together.

Before the consultation, Li held a meeting with Scholz.

Li pointed out that the economic and trade cooperation between China and Germany has been developed for more than half a century, and it is not easy for the two sides to achieve today’s results, which have brought real benefits to the two peoples.

He hopes the German side will continue to keep an open mind, uphold the independent policy and properly handle relevant issues on the basis of international rules and in the principle of the spirit of contract.

He said the two sides should vigorously promote the facilitation of personnel exchanges and strengthen people-to-people exchanges.

Li proposed tackling climate change as one of the guiding visions for China-Germany cooperation in the future, adding that the two countries should promote cooperation in green technology and industry, and explore the establishment of a rational and orderly division of labor in the green energy industry chain.

Scholz said the German side welcomes China’s development and prosperity, noting that Germany rejects all forms of decoupling and “de-risking” is not “de-sinicization.”

Germany is committed to developing stable relations with China and is willing to strengthen bilateral exchanges further, deepen mutually beneficial cooperation and reach more cooperation consensus in addressing climate change and green development, he said, adding that Germany supports two-way investment and will provide a sound business environment for Chinese enterprises to invest in Germany.

The two sides also exchanged views on international and regional issues of common concern.

Before the meeting, Scholz held a grand welcome ceremony for Li at the square in front of the Federal Chancellery. With a military band playing the national anthems of both countries and Chinese and German flags flying high, Li, accompanied by Scholz, reviewed the guard of honor.

It’s time to test US’ credibility again: Global Times editorial

Published: Jun 20, 2023 12:42 AM

(XHDW)(2)习近平会见美国国务卿布林肯
(XHDW)(2)习近平会见美国国务卿布林肯

Chinese President Xi Jinping (center) meets with visiting US Secretary of State Antony Blinken in Beijing on June 19, 2023. Blooming lotus ffowers are seen placed in the middle of the meeting table. The Chinese word for “lotus” has similar pronunciation with the word of “peace” and “harmony.” Photo: Xinhua

On June 19, Chinese President Xi Jinping met with US Secretary of State Antony Blinken in Beijing, which was the most important and highly anticipated part of Blinken’s China visit. Until the last moment, whether Blinken would secure a meeting with President Xi was a topic of great interest in the US media, carrying significant indicators to measure the achievements of Blinken’s visit and the level of easing in China-US relations. Therefore, once the meeting was confirmed and the scene of the meeting was released, it immediately became one of the most significant international events of the day. Against the backdrop of the international community’s widespread concern over the downward spiral of China-US relations, this meeting has released the expected signal of relief.

Though the meeting was not long, it carried substantial information. President Xi expounded on the principled stance for stabilizing and developing China-US relations, providing strategic and guiding suggestions. President Xi emphasized that the world needs a generally stable China-US relationship, and whether the two countries can find the right way to get along bears on the future and destiny of humanity. The vast expanse of the Earth is big enough to accommodate the respective development and common prosperity of China and the US, Xi pointed out. The Chinese, like the Americans, are dignified, confident and self-reliant people, Xi said, adding that they both have the right to pursue a better life, and the common interests of the two countries should be valued, and their respective success is an opportunity instead of a threat to each other.

These words are full of sincerity and goodwill, while also targeted. Some people in the US view China’s development with a narrow mindset of zero-sum game or even negative-sum game, perceiving it as a threat rather than an opportunity. Their biases toward China, catalyzed by the complex political and diplomatic environment in Washington, have become the crux of the twists and turns in China-US relations. In other words, the US’ own problems have turned into problems in bilateral relations, which need to be resolved by the US side.

China has consistently demonstrated its strategic clarity to the US, which is a sharp contrast with US side’s strategic ambiguity. The three most commonly used adjectives by both sides for their high-level communication are “frank, in-depth and constructive.” Clarity represents frankness. We believe that Blinken deeply understands this during his visit. China has thoroughly explained the root causes of the low point in China-US relations, the urgent tasks for both sides, China’s intentions and goals for development and revitalization, and the most prominent risks in the bilateral relationship. China does not harbor ill intentions toward the US, but it will definitely counteract any suppressive actions. If the US still has any misunderstandings about China’s strategic intentions, then we can only assume that they are deliberate and pretending to be ignorant.

Overall, in a situation with low expectations from various parties and having experienced twists and turns, Blinken’s visit to China has achieved some specific consensus, and the communication has been efficient and in-depth. It is worth noting that during the talks, Blinken made some statements that moved toward China’s position. For example, he said that the US is committed to returning to the agenda set at the summit between the heads of state in Bali and reiterated US President Joe Biden’s commitment of “five noes.” Some of Blinken’s statements during the press conference held on Monday evening also reflected this point. However, it should be pointed out that the “stability” of China-US relations requires both sides meeting each other halfway, especially for the US to be consistent in both words and deeds.

Even though it is still too early to determine if it was a successful visit, China-US relations made positive progress because of the trip. This is in the interests of the US, China, and even the world, which is also what the international community hopes to see. The world once had unprecedentedly low confidence in the turnaround of China-US relations, but now there are more expectations for the stability of China-US relations.

China and the US have taken a step forward, but it is still far from enough. The key lies in the next steps. It goes without saying that there are still differences between the two countries on many issues. No one expects Blinken’s trip to resolve these divergences. Its greater significance lies in the possibility of reversing the highly unhealthy and tense atmosphere in bilateral relations and thus creating conditions for managing and resolving the differences. China’s reception of Blinken also showcases China’s demeanor as a major power and its sincerity in stabilizing China-US relations and strengthen communication. Previously, the US gave the world the impression that China was unwilling to communicate, but it is clearly not the case.

Some media outlets noticed that the blooming lotus placed at the center of the meeting table between President Xi and Blinken was particularly eye-catching. It is currently the season of lotus blooms, and “lotus” has the same pronunciation in Chinese as “harmony,” conveying the expectation of peaceful coexistence and win-win cooperation between China and the US. We hope that after returning to the US, Blinken will comprehensively and objectively convey the information received in China, generating new momentum for stabilizing China-US relations, and never again leaving the impression that the US says one thing and does another.

Funny, but so very true…

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2023 06 22 08 58

Russia Begins Process to WITHDRAW from World Trade Organization and World Health Organization

The Russian government is starting the process of unilaterally withdrawing from a series of international bodies, including the World Trade Organization and the World Health Organization, the Russian Duma’s Deputy Speaker Pyotr Tolstoy said on Tuesday.

“We have work to revise our international obligations, treaties that today bring no benefit, but instead directly harm our country. The Foreign Ministry sent a list of such agreements to the State Duma,” Tolstoy said. “Together with the Federation Council, we plan to analyze them and to propose to withdraw,” he added.

(Hal Turner Remark: So Russia removes the Rothschild corrupt private banking system which enslaves citizens. He bans GMO farming. He sanctions crooks like Clinton, Biden, & Obama & now he’s withdrawn from the WHO & WTO. Does anyone still think they are the bad guys?)

SHOCKING! Letter Exposes Top-Secret UFO Programs Involving Canada and Five Eyes Alliance

Chinese FM clarifies position on US-claimed ‘rules-based intl order’

Published: Jun 21, 2023 04:48 PM

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2023 06 22 16 48

Illustration: Liu Rui/GT

China never rejects communication, but the key is how to communicate and whether it can achieve desired results, Yang Tao, director-general of the Department of North American and Oceanian Affairs of the Chinese Foreign Ministry, told the Global Times on Monday, as he briefed Chinese and foreign media about US Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s visit to China from Sunday to Monday.

“Communication does not mean only seeking one’s own concerns while ignoring the concerns of the other,” said Yang.

A statement on Sunday by a US State Department spokesperson said that Blinken said the US will “work with its allies and partners to advance our vision for a world that is free, open, and upholds the rules-based international order.”

Yang said that the original intention of President Xi Jinping in advocating a community with a shared future for mankind is to maximize international solidarity and cooperation to jointly address global challenges.

“China is the first country to sign the UN Charter. It is the creator, defender and beneficiary of the current international order. Why should China change the existing international order?” said Yang.

“Some people always talk about the ‘rules-based international order.’ What rules are they based on? If it is the UN Charter, China has no problem. If it is the rules formulated by a handful of countries, China, as well as many other countries, will find it difficult to agree,” Yang said.

According to the State Department statement, Blinken emphasized the importance of maintaining open channels of communication across the full range of issues to reduce the risk of miscalculation. Yang said that both sides have agreed to jointly implement the important common understandings reached by the two presidents in Bali, Indonesia, effectively manage differences, and advance dialogue, exchanges and cooperation. Blinken invited Chinese State Councilor and Foreign Minister Qin Gang to visit the US, and Qin expressed his willingness to visit the US at the convenience of both sides.

Yang stressed that China never rejects communication, but the key is how and what the desired results are. Both parties should make sure the communication is effective. One party cannot only seek to solve its own concerns while ignoring the concerns of the other party. No party should say one thing but do another, Yang said.

China is willing to conduct constructive communication and dialogue in the spirit of mutual respect, and the US side should also show sincerity and take action. Stabilizing China-US relations requires both China and the US to work together and meet each other halfway, Yang told the Global Times.

President Xi Jinping has put forward four principles, called for joint efforts in four areas and shared three observations on Ukraine, which outline China’s fundamental approach to the issue, Yang noted, adding that these are China’s basic principles in dealing with the Ukraine crisis. The core idea is to promote peace talks and political settlement.

China supports all efforts that are conducive to ceasefire and promoting peace talks. China will continue to uphold an objective and fair stance, and promote peace talks in its own way. China will not do things that are biased or worsen the situation, let alone take advantage of the crisis, Yang said.

No country can force China to take sides, let alone distort and smear China’s position. The illegal unilateral sanctions on Chinese companies and individuals must stop. If China has to choose a side, it will choose the side of peace, peace talks, and political settlement, Yang said.

Some countries have asked China not to provide arms to Russia. The whole world can clearly see who is providing arms to the conflicting parties. We urge relevant countries to stop fueling the fire and stop smearing and slandering China, Yang noted.

Two Massive Explosions on Crimea

There have been two massive explosions on Crimea in the city of Sevastopol.

Over the weekend, Russia accused Ukraine of planning to attack annexed Crimea with long-range U.S. and British missiles and warned that it would retaliate if that happened.

watch this video, trust me

https://youtu.be/9bT2KLaPuE0

I am back in Metro NYC – Didn’t even take ten minutes to remind me why I walked away three months ago

I drove back to NJ today because I have this absurd notion that I had to get my wife away from New York City for this weekend with the NATO exercise coming to an end.  I sincerely believe NATO will either find an excuse – or MAKE one – to go into direct warfare with Russia.  NYC is a major nuke target and I want my wife out of here.  Well, it didn’t take ten friggin minutes before I realized why I walked away three months ago . . .

Traffic; nightmarish.   Filthy, dirty, roads in bad repair – everywhere.   Graffiti on the highway overpass pilings . . . . ahhh yes, “Diversity” from all the little savages brought here by Democrat political scum.

Then, my wife . . . . Oh I have to be back here on the 27th for some window repair appointment for the sliding glass door in our condo.

Then she starts with her bullshit “I’m not even going to Pennsylvania, I’m staying home.”  So this time, I said “Good.  Stay home.  Now it’s off my conscience whatever happens to you.”

I don’t think she expected that, at all.   So a few minutes later, she came around and said she’ll go.   But I can already see it’s not something she wants to do and if I know her at all after 31 years being married to her, I can look forward to a whiney, complaining, aggravating time up there.

That’s my first fifteen minutes home after three months.

How’s yours?

Do not think they have any good option since they started the chip war. Only doing to the United States what the United States did to China. They could take it to the World Trade Organization but considering that the US started it, not sure it would get the judgement it wants since probable the WTO would tell the US and China to both stop trade restrictions.

The US has so many disputes compared to China

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2023 06 22 16 14

Sort of astounding to see how little problem China has with the world and vis versa compared to the Untied States.

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2023 06 22 16 134

US seems to hate everyone.

Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken and Flat Dumplings

l intro 1670869799
l intro 1670869799

Ingredients

  • 1 large (5 pound) washed chicken
  • 1 large onion, quartered
  • 3 stalks celery, cut into large chunks
  • 1 teaspoon whole peppercorn
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons salt

Instructions

  1. Place chicken in a 6- to 8-quart stockpot. Add remaining ingredients. Bring to boil. Simmer until chicken is done, about 2 hours.
  2. When cool, remove bones and fat from chicken. Cut into pieces, and return to pot.
  3. Noodles: In a bowl, mix together 2 cups flour and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Make a well in the center, and gradually work 4 eggs into the flour until stiff dough is formed, adding water a little at a time if necessary. Knead until smooth. Divide dough in half. Roll each half as thin as possible then cut into thin 1-2 inch squares.
  4. Bring the broth back to rolling boil. Drop noodle squares one at a time, making sure each are drenched in broth. Reduce heat, cover and continue to cook until noodles are done, about 8 minutes. DON’T PEEK!
  5. Serve in large bowl and ladle onto plates at the table. Serve with chopped onion.

NATO’s secret TERROR armies exposed in newly declassified documents by The Grayzone | Redacted News

Biden Blows Up Blinken’s Diplomatic Mission to China

Dementia Joe does it again. Less than 24 hours after Secretary of State Blinken genuflected before the Chinese, assuring them that the United States really, really, really is sincere in supporting the One China policy and eschews calling for Taiwan’s independence, Biden opened his yap and called Xi Jinping a dictator. While this garnered applause from the American financial donors, it destroyed Blinken’s credibility with the Chinese and confirmed their worst suspicions about U.S. intentions.

When it comes to the art of diplomacy, saying what you really think or believe is not an acceptable practice. While many Americans believe that China’s Xi is a dictator and are wondering what the fuss is surrounding Biden’s intemperate, off-the-cuff remark, saying this in public stiffens Chinese doubts about U.S. intentions and makes it virtually impossible for the United States to have any kind of productive working relationship with China going forward.

Just a day after Blinken’s weekend visit to China, U.S. President Joe Biden called Chinese President Xi Jinping in a move that has infuriated Beijing and left U.S. officials perplexed. Biden said the comments in front of donors at a California event.

Chinese Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Mao Ning called the comments a “provocation” and “irresponsible.” U.S. officials have privately sought to inform the Chinese that this doesn’t represent a shift in tone or mood since the Blinken visit.

https://t.me/UkraineHumanRightsAbuses/27593

I suspect there were some of Xi Jinping’s foreign policy advisors who warned that receiving Blinken was a mistake and that the U.S. could not be trusted to live up to its promises. Guess what? They are serving up a big load of crow to those in the Chinese Government who advocated for the meeting with Blinken. Those advocates have lost face; big time.

American political leaders, including those in the Biden Administration and Republicans, need to make a choice — cool the bombastic, threatening rhetorical comments or prepare for deteriorating relations with China that will inflict enormous damage on the U.S. economy for the foreseeable future. There is no middle ground.

Many of the so-called American China mavens advocate more deterrence (i.e., more cowbell). CSIS published the results of a China/America war game in January:

CSIS developed a wargame for a Chinese amphibious invasion of Taiwan and ran it 24 times. In most scenarios, the United States/Taiwan/Japan defeated a conventional amphibious invasion by China and maintained an autonomous Taiwan. However, this defense came at high cost. The United States and its allies lost dozens of ships, hundreds of aircraft, and tens of thousands of service members. Taiwan saw its economy devastated. Further, the high losses damaged the U.S. global position for many years. China also lost heavily, and failure to occupy Taiwan might destabilize Chinese Communist Party rule. Victory is therefore not enough. The United States needs to strengthen deterrence immediately.

The proposal to “strengthen U.S. deterrence”, which is academic jargon for building up U.S. military capability in the Pacific, is a non-starter. The U.S. already is bogged down in Ukraine, has depleted critical weapon supplies and lacks the industrial capability to rapidly replace weapons and build tanks, combat aircraft and ships required, in theory at least, to deter China.

China is likely to become more firm in defining its territorial waters and air space and will make normal commerce with Taiwan more difficult for the United States, but it sees war as a last resort. China has a number of other cards to play. The most important of these is the January 13, 2024 election in Taiwan where the party that wants a closer relationship with the mainland appears to have a chance to win the Presidency. If the Kuomintang prevails then the door is open for a peaceful reconciliation between the mainland and Taiwan. This will be a punch to the gut for the United States and will upend Western plans to foment a rift in the Communist Party.

You can be sure that Western and Chinese intelligence agencies will be actively interfering in this election to secure their respective interests. Hypocrisy alert — don’t be surprised that many of the American politicians who decried alleged Russian interference in the 2016 U.S. Presidential election will be enthusiastic supporters of the U.S. Government and its subsidiary agencies meddling aggressively in the Taiwan election. We can do it to you but don’t do it to us.

If you’re holding your breath in hopes of a peaceful resolution to this conflict you will pass out from lack of oxygen. I fear that the American political dynamics are so toxic and twisted that we are setting ourselves up for an inevitable war with China. I also worry that the Chinese leaders have reached this same conclusion and will ramp up their efforts to work more closely with Russia in building a new world order that will weaken American influence and will bolster its naval, air and hypersonic missile capabilities.

The “chart”

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2023 06 22 16 33

American English Spoken on Ukraine Battlefield; While US Gov’t Claims “Not a Party to the conflict.”

Americans are fighting against Russia on the battlefield of Ukraine as proved by the brief videos below.  Why are Americans fighting in a place where our government claims “We are not party to the conflict?”

Video #1:

Video #2:

The US Government and NATO are almost constantly telling the world “we are not party to the conflict.”

Yet New Jersey Congressman Tom Kean, Jr. sponsored a Resolution in Congress just the other day, calling for LONG RANGE MISSILES to be given to Ukraine:

Even other members of Congress are pointing out how insane the US Gov’t is acting:

How long will it be before Russia decides that the USA and NATO  **** are, in fact *** parties to the conflict, and starts bombing us?

Six US Citizens Indicted in Venezuela on Conspiracy Charges and Related Crimes (+Operation Gideon)

main qimg f687e59d84b5e23ea048c9aec7ba48d0
main qimg f687e59d84b5e23ea048c9aec7ba48d0

US mercenary Airan Berry after being captured by Venezuelan authorities in 2020, following the failure of the coup plot known as Operation Gideon. Photo: Screenshot of VTV video/File photo.

According to a report by news outlet Últimas Noticias

, “seven men and one woman of US nationality are being criminally prosecuted in Venezuela,” according to records from the Ministry for the Penitentiary Service published this Tuesday, June 20.

It is worth noting that six of the eight Americans detained are being prosecuted for conspiracy and related offenses. Two of the prosecuted have already sentenced to 24 years in prison each: Airan Berry and Luke Alexander Denman. According to the investigation of the Public Prosecutor’s Office, both were captured on May 3, 2020, in Chuao (Aragua state), when they came to execute US-backed Operation Gideon, aimed at the overthrow of President Nicolás Maduro.

It should be further noted that Berry and Denman are former US soldiers and were hired by mercenary contractor Silvercorp USA—owned by former Green Beret Jordan Goudreau—to carry out mercenary operations in Venezuelan territory, under a contract signed by Juan Guaidó, who had presented himself to the world as the so-called “interim president” of Venezuela.

Últimas Noticias reports that both US nationals “admitted their participation in the mercenary plot, and consequently the Fourth Anti-Terrorist Court sentenced them on May 3, 2021, for conspiracy, criminal association, illicit trafficking of weapons of war, and terrorism.”

The other defendants charged with conspiracy and criminal association are Jerrel Lloyd Kenemore and Eylin Alexis Hernández, captured in San Antonio del Táchira for entering Venezuela illegally in November 2022.

Jason George Saab, captured in Zulia, is being “prosecuted for conspiracy, resistance to authority, and criminal association,” while Joseph Ryan Cristella, also captured in Táchira in October 2022, is being prosecuted for conspiracy against the Venezuelan state.

New World Order w/ Ambassador Chas Freeman, Alexander Mercouris and Glenn Diesen

And Then Biden Blew It …

The talks Secretary of State Anthony Blinken had in China were somewhat useful. On his way out he at least used the right words on Taiwan:

'We do not support Taiwan independence,' America's top diplomat said in Beijing after meeting with Chinese president Xi Jingping.

The U.S. had practically begged for the meeting and that it took place is itself a small success:

To stabilise their relations, China and the United States must first arrest a downward spiral. That may turn out to be the achievement of US Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s talks with Chinese leaders in Beijing. It was unrealistic to expect any more just now. The negative fundamentals of the relationship remain the same. Both sides described Blinken’s talks with Foreign Minister Qin Gang and top diplomat Wang Yi as “candid” – meaning very frank. But they paved the way for a meeting between Blinken and President Xi Jinping, which did no harm to hopes for a Xi- Joe Biden summit.

Along with Qin’s acceptance of an invitation to Washington, that suggests the two sides found some common ground – particularly the need for more stable ties and to reduce the risk of military conflict.

Then, within just 24 hours, President Biden blew it:

US President Joe Biden has called Chinese President Xi Jinping a dictator at a fundraising event in California.

His remarks came a day after US Secretary of State Antony Blinken met Mr Xi for talks in Beijing, which were aimed at easing tensions between the two superpowers.

Mr Biden also said Mr Xi was embarrassed after an alleged Chinese spy balloon was shot down by the US. 
..
"The reason why Xi Jinping got very upset, in terms of when I shot that balloon down with two box cars full of spy equipment in it, was he didn't know it was there," Mr Biden said at the event on Tuesday.

"That's a great embarrassment for dictators. When they didn't know what happened," he added.

The Chinese government was not amused:

China's foreign ministry spokeswoman Mao Ning called Mr Biden's remarks "extremely absurd and irresponsible". Speaking at a regularly scheduled press conference on Wednesday, she said that the comments were "an open political provocation" that violated diplomatic etiquette.

The whole Biden remarks with regards to China from the White House website:

And so, things are changing. We put together in Southeast Asia — and, by the way, I promise you we’re going to — don’t worry about China. I mean, worry about China, but don’t worry about China. (Laughter.)

No, but I really mean it. China is real — has real economic difficulties. And the reason why Xi Jinping got very upset in terms of when I shot that balloon down with two boxcars full of spy equipment in it is he didn’t know it was there. No, I’m serious. That’s what’s a great embarrassment for dictators, when they didn’t know what happened. That wasn’t supposed to be going where it was. It was blown off course up through Alaska and then down through the United States. And he didn’t know about it. When it got shot down, he was very embarrassed. He denied it was even there.

But the fo- — did — the very important point is he’s in a situation now where he wants to have a relationship again. Tony Blinken just went over there — our Secretary of State; did a good job. And it’s going to take time.

But what he was really upset about was that I insisted that we — we reunite the Qu- — so-called Quad. He called me and told me not to do that because it was putting him in a bind. I said, “All we’re doing — we’re not trying to surround you, we’re just trying to make sure the international rules with air and sea lanes remain open. And we’re not going to yield to that — on that.”

There are several issues in there that need some clarifying.

China has no real economic difficulties, just minor issues:

The Chinese economy this year is expected to grow faster than previously forecast and exceed the government's target of "around 5%," according to a survey of local economists.

A survey of 28 economists in March revealed that, on average, they expect the Chinese economy to grow 5.4% in 2023, up from 4.7% they forecast in December. The survey was jointly conducted by Nikkei and Nikkei Quick News.

The hope for China this year was 6% GDP growth. China’s central bank just lowered a key interest rate by a small margin to achieve that.

Biden acknowledges that the weather balloon was ‘blow off course’ and thereby debunks previous claims that it was steerable. China had no intent to let the balloon cross Canada and the United States. And if there had really been ‘two boxcars full of spy equipment’ on the balloon why hasn’t the U.S. shown any of it?

Why would or should a president of the U.S. or China know of some weather balloon floating somewhere?

Xi was embarrassed by the circus the U.S. made over that affair?

Xi is a dictator? The man came to his post by merits (scroll down) and through a complex representational election system. He can even be dismissed.

Xi denied that the ballon was where it was to whom? And the U.S. would know about that how?

Then comes the tale over the Quad. Biden claims that Xi called him over a quad meeting which is most likely a blatant lie. There are typically read-outs of phone calls between leaders at that level but I do not find any of a Xi-Biden call during the relevant months on the White House website. Nor was there any news of one.

The Biden talk, made official by posting it on the White House site, is an insult to China. Whatever Blinken has said or done to smooth the relations is no gone. It was already known that the U.S. can not be trusted with anything that it says. What counts is what the U.S. does and there it has so far shown no positive move towards China.

I am not sure that Biden intentionally talked about the balloon incident or was selective with his words on China. But even if it was somewhat accidentally it would not change anything. What matters is the effect. He has sabotaged the results of Blinken’s talks in China and the U.S. will rightly be blamed for again worsening the relations.

As Yves Smith summarizes:

I wouldn’t bet on the minimal commitments from the meetings, like a return to pre-zero Covid levels of passenger flights, to be implemented.

The worst is that this insult does not simply demonstrate that the US is incapable of diplomacy. It shows we are so interested in dominance that we’ve lost sight of what our interests our. So institutionally, we are engaging in the same sort of self-destructive behavior that Trump practices personally. Perhaps that is the real reason Democrats hate him. Despite decorating in gold, the essence of his behavior is not all that different than theirs.

Posted by b on June 21, 2023 at 15:40 UTC | Permalink

June 22, 2023

Mr. Thongloun Sisoulith, President of Laos, made a visit to Mr. Yuan Jiajun, Communist Party Secretary of Chongqing City (Photo: KPL)

Mr. Thongloun Sisoulith, President of Laos, visited Mr. Yuan Jiajun, Communist Party Secretary of Chongqing, on Monday.

During his visit, the Lao president praised Chongqing’s achievements in socio-economic development, particularly its success in eliminating poverty, transforming Chongqing into a major economic center, and building land-sea transportation links from western China to other countries, according to Paxason

.

The two leaders also discussed the future of Laos-Chongqing relations and agreed to explore cooperation in a variety of areas, including development in rural areas and the transportation of goods

between Laos and Chongqing through the Laos-China railway, which will open up the Laos market to export its goods to the central-western part of China.

The Lao president asked Mr. Yuan to urge Chinese investors and businesses to invest in Laos and for Chinese tourists to visit the country more frequently.

Mr. Yuan expressed his gratitude for the participation of the Lao delegations in a recent international conference held in Chongqing City. He was pleased to observe that the top leadership of both countries made significant efforts to enhance bilateral cooperation.

Additionally, the Lao president visited the Hongyan Revolutionary Memorial Hall, an important historical site as well as an important industrial production base in Chongqing.

Mr. Thongloun’s official trip to China also included visits to Yunnan Province

and the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region.

For him personally? Yes, he saved his job.

For the US-China relations? No, it’s a total failure, a verschlimmbesserung. Blinken is an inept diplomat. A cocky prick. China doesn’t give a sh!t about the “Xinjiang human rights violation” hoax he mentioned in his press conference speech after Xi had given him an attaboy. It only proved to the Chinese again that this guy doesn’t walk the talk. His visit was a disaster for the US, but not necessarily bad for the rest of the world. More countries are shifting from this United Syndicate of Arsonists. A showdown between the two may be welcomed by all the oppressed developing countries.

And his boss is a demented senile loose cannon with an overblown ego calling Xi a dictator, trying to divert attention from Hunter Biden pleading guilty to two counts of criminal charge and this diplomatic flop. What a disaster.

BREAKING! WE’RE GOING TO WAR, RUSSIA COUNTERS, MEDIA CRACKDOWN, CRIMEA NUCLEAR COUNTDOWN BEGINS

I’m not offended; I am just confused.

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2023 06 23 06 572

If the US were a human it would be doing this:

main qimg 952444052822b7f3c38e2871185e662c lq
main qimg 952444052822b7f3c38e2871185e662c lq

This isn’t about whether Xi is or isn’t a “dictator”, it’s about how the US President actively, repeatedly, and cartoonishly undermines his own foreign policy. With one hand he’s sending out Blinken to repair ties with China, and with the other he’s slapping China in the face.

It’s a matter of diplomatic protocol that world leaders do not insult other world leaders. The US isn’t supposed to call Xi a “dictator” in the same way China isn’t supposed to call Biden a dementia-addled, fundamentally corrupt tool of the corporate state.

This is not a lone incident. Biden has a habit of promising to defend Taiwan only to be vetoed by his own White House the next day:

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2023 06 23 06 57

Biden “misspoke” on this same topic four times, and was “clarified” by his own White House four times.

All of these incidents give the perception that “no one is flying the plane” in Washington DC. Say what you will of Trump, but the man was definitely flying the plane, even if he was crashing it into a mountain.

main qimg cf71286dd587b8acf5395a48c8576c9c
main qimg cf71286dd587b8acf5395a48c8576c9c

Biden blows up China rapprochement, calls Xi Jinping a dictator

The quiet and confusion before the next steps

Never trust a single word that comes out of the (United States) lying machine. 

What America has agreed to amounts to this: the US will sanction and ban whoever, whatever and whenever they like because they're defending American values and their rule of law, but they will not do so when they need to buy Chinese rare earths and EV batteries. 

Meanwhile, China should not decouple by continuing to buy American corn and low-end chips from Micron. 

This is American fair and free trade. 

It's a Kabuki show and China is playing along. It's a game two can play. Anyone who believes in a single word these liars say are morons and deserves to be scammed, pillaged and plundered. 

-PM

Use this time to take care of yourself.

Listen to me.

Found a new way to make Double Cheese Pizza! No kneading! Incredibly easy! Best pizza in the world

China trashes US request for restoration of military communication

China suspended regular military contacts with US in August 2022 after the then US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi visited Taiwan. However, the problem existed even before her visit
Umang Sharma June 21, 2023 14:46:00 IST
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China has clearly denied one of US’ requests of restoring military-to-military contacts between the two countries. During his recent visit to Beijing, Secretary of State Antony Blinken repeatedly raised the issue of military communications but was rebuffed by the Chinese.

Blinken said it was “absolutely vital” US and China have these kind of communications and it was something the United States will keep working on.

Why China does not want to restart military communications?

China suspended regular military contacts with US in August 2022 after the then US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi visited Taiwan. However, the problem existed even before her visit.

The US says since 2021, China has declined or has failed to respond to over a dozen requests from the Department of Defence for top-level dialogues.

Meanwhile, China said it has refused to restart military communications as sanctions have been imposed by US. Beijing was possibly referring to sanctions on its defence minister, Li Shangfu.

The sanctions on Li were part of a broad package of measures against Russia, even before its invasion of Ukraine, imposed in 2018 over his involvement in China’s purchase of combat aircraft and anti-aircraft missiles from Moscow.

Yang Tao, Chinese Foreign Ministry official overseeing North American affairs at a press briefing earlier this week said, “The US side is surely aware of why there is difficulty in military-to-military exchanges.”

“One of the reasons is unilateral sanctions against the Chinese side. They first need to remove impediments and create conditions for military-to-military cooperation,” Yang said.

Earlier this month, Li declined an invitation to speak with US Defence Secretary Lloyd Austin on the sidelines of a defence forum in Singapore.

“The US says the sanctions don’t prevent Li from holding talks with US officials, but culturally, Chinese officials may expect a form of public remedy before agreeing to re-engage after sanctions,” Li Nan of the National University of Singapore said.

“You impose sanctions on the guy, and then you also want to have dialogue with the guy from the Chinese perspective, that doesn’t make any sense,” Nan said.

Why US wants to restore military contacts?

Washington wants to restore military contacts as it wants to avoid an incident similar to one in 2001 when the US Navy aircraft and a Chinese interceptor jet collided in mid-air off the Chinese island of Hainan. The incident led to the death of the Chinese pilot and the US aircraft was forced to make an emergency landing in Hainan without Chinese approval.

There is also fear among the US and other nations of a potential accident involving the militaries of United States and Chinese that could spiral out of control.

Tension between Beijing and Washington has increased over the recent months, including a suspected Chinese spy balloon over US territory.

Earlier in June, a Chinese warship unexpectedly cut in front of a US destroyer in the Taiwan Strait, forcing it to slow down to avoid impact. Few days ago, a Chinese fighter jet flew in front of a US warplane over the South China Sea in a manoeuvre the US described as unnecessarily aggressive.

“The most important thing for the US side is to avoid these accidents,” said Nan.

France to Join BRICS? This Changes EVERYTHING!

Southern Summertime Lemonade

If desired, a few strips of lemon peel may be added at the beginning for a more intense flavor.

Basil Lemonade 1
Basil Lemonade 1

Ingredients

  • 2 fresh lemons (about 1/3 cup juice)
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 quart water
  • Sprigs of mint
  • Ice cubes

Instructions

  1. Squeeze lemons; add sugar, water and mint. Shake well and refrigerate for flavors to mellow (1/2 to 6 hours).
  2. Pour over ice cubes and serve.

This will make 4 large glasses.

I was a middle manager in a multi billion dollar corporation. One of my direct reports told me that he thought I was “making too much” of my husband’s brain cancer. Meaning that the occasional schedule changes I had to make because of emergencies or treatment were inconveniencing said direct report. He felt like he was an authority on such things because some relative of his who had cancer (not a terminal frontal lobe brain tumor) didn’t have emergencies and managing it was “easy”.

And I didn’t lose my cool. I didn’t scream at him. I remained as professional as I could given how profoundly offended I was. But I made sure to pass him off to someone else to manage. I wasn’t ever going to be impartial again. I’m sure karma will catch up with him one day.

Some tweets

Hua Chunying 华春莹 on Twitter: "1⃣If unexpected military conflict were to arise between China and the U.S., it would not be caused by China taking provocative moves of sending military vessels and jets to LA or anywhere off the coast of California." / Twitter

https://twitter.com/SpokespersonCHN/status/1670050207604813825

Hua Chunying 华春莹 on Twitter: "Rather, it would be triggered by US warships or warplanes close to China’s territory. In dealing with a country the size of China, mutual respect is the ground rule." / Twitter

https://twitter.com/SpokespersonCHN/status/1670050210339500033

Woman Near-Death Experience After Ending Her Life Reveals Future And A Memory Sealed Into My Soul

Who are the main customers of Chinese-made vehicles?

Russia and Mexico are top buyers of Chinese automobiles
Jun 21, 2023
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Official figures showed that China overtook Japan to become the biggest car exporter in the world in the first quarter of 2023, shortly after surpassing Germany as the second largest in 2022.

As both the largest automobile market and exporter, where were the Chinese cars exported to? How much is the potential of the Chinese market and car manufacturers?

Caijing Magazine, China’s leading economy study magazine, analyzed the latest trends in the car market and warned car manufacturers of the past mistakes made by Chinese exporters, and highlighted the significance of favorable foreign trade policies, cost-effective products, and innovative momentum in new technologies. Your Ginger River believes it is a worthwhile piece for anyone interested in the market to dive into.

Some highlights first:

  • In 2022, Russia imported approximately 117,000 passenger vehicles from China, a 40 percent increase compared to the previous year. China has become the main source of imported passenger vehicles in Russia.
  • Mexico’s position as the second-largest buyer of Chinese automobiles among the top ten countries is surprising, since Mexico itself is a major automotive producer, ranking seventh globally in terms of production volume.
  • In Australia or Southeast Asia, Chinese automobiles possess an advantage in terms of price over European brands. They are gradually capturing consumers who used to buy from Honda, Toyota, Mazda, and other manufacturers, offering them affordable vehicles.
  • In Middle East countries, customized designs tailored to the local environment and affordable quality services are key factors contributing to the popularity of Chinese automobiles.
  • Although China ranks first in total automobile exports globally, it cannot be simply considered an automotive export powerhouse … Chinese automobiles still face the perception of being “disorganized, weak, and small” in overseas markets, and the negative perceptions of “low quality, low price, and copying” are deeply rooted.
  • In summary, stable supply chains, competitive pricing, advantages in NEV research and development, and preferential foreign trade policies are reasons for the export achievement of Chinese automobiles overseas.
  • However, the obstacles currently impeding the competitors will inevitably be overcome in due course. The question of how Chinese automakers can boost their competitiveness beyond just offering cost-effectiveness remains to be answered with time.
.

US tried everything, threats, intimidation, economic and technological sanctions and embargoes, diplomatic and military encirclement, nothing worked, it has to do something, sanctions is the only thing US can do, nothing else.

At this point, even war cannot stop China.

Even if U.S. wins an air-sea battles, it cannot stop China from producing, energy, food, natural resources just keep on pouring in from Russia and Central Asia. The only way to stop China is a total land invasion, but there is no place to land troops into China, all land entries are blocked. It is suicidal to invade China in a land war.

Absolutely, you should!

I remember reading about a case where a passenger had seen an accumulation of ice on the wings and alerted a flight attendant, who told him that the captain was probably aware of the ice accumulation and knew how to manage it.

In fact, the captain wasn’t aware of the ice.

The plane then stalled and crashed.

main qimg 6b23c4584f0890ce3c987df8c99b9845 lq
main qimg 6b23c4584f0890ce3c987df8c99b9845 lq

Never assume that the crew is aware.

Once, a friend of mine, who works in the aviation field, saw a streak of liquid leaking from one of the engines. He reported it to the cabin crew, but the flight attendant brushed him off saying that it was a normal situation and that it always happened, blah blah blah…

When he identified himself, her tone changed and she went to the captain.

When they landed, he saw a team of mechanics opening the engine cover, swarming like a bunch of flies on a piece of butter. He later found out that a seal had broken and that it could have led to the engine shutting down, if he hadn’t promptly reported it.

So yes, please, if you think you see something unusual, even if you risk not being listened to, report it for the sake of your own life and others!

UPDATED 5:50 PM — Europe Reveals Map BREAKING-UP RUSSIA into 41 new countries

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2023 06 20 18 21

Gunther Fehlinger, Chairman of the Austria NATO non-governmental organization (NGO), publicly revealed today, the West’s “plan” for Russia: Broken-up into 41 new, autonomous countries! There wouldn’t BE a “Russia” anymore. Russia’s response was simple: If there isn’t going to be a Russia anymore, then there isn’t going to be a Europe or USA, either. World War 3 is officially on its way.

Here is Gunther Fehlinger and the West’s (suicidal) map of a world without Russia:

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2023 06 20 18 23

The revelation of this map is literal PROOF that it is the actual intention of the West to do-away with Russia.    By even manufacturing such a map, the West has shown its intent.   Russia now faces an ACTUAL existential threat.  Their very existence is at stake.

Think about the time and effort that was necessary to research the populations and ethnicities in each of these areas, where they are, and how to draw actual lines along the geography of the demographics, to create this vision of new, autonomous, countries.  The research and planning alone had to take . . .  YEARS.

Now that the map is actually out, and the entire world can see that the West has literally been planning for YEARS to completely do-away with Russia, we can all now see that the situation with Ukraine was intentionally manufactured BY THE WEST to provide the impetus to set in-motion, their nefarious plans.

With the release of this map, it seems to many observers that war is now a foregone conclusion.

What many people, myself included, really want to know is, Whose idea was this?

Who decided this needed to be done?  Because that person, or those persons, need to be directly confronted and engaged.

This plan is suicidal. Whoever thought of it, and whoever is promoting it, is a clear and present danger to the lives of millions.

People have a right to self defense against this monstrous and deadly plan.   That self-defense may have to be applied to the people who are promoting this and to the people who thought it up.

 

UPDATE 5:50 PM EDT —

I have engaged in locating Gunther Fehlinger and much to my shock and dismay, he is presently HERE in the United States.   Two hours ago, he was in Philadelphia where, among other stops, he entered the Masonic Temple.   He then departed Philadelphia by car and, at this update, is presently on the New Jersey Turnpike, heading north, into New York City!

He is scheduled to appear at the Hudson Institute!

.

This is an important article to read.

It was very detailed and documents the irreversible trend of de-dollarization and the important role that BRICS and its New Development Bank has played in building a multipolar financial order.

De-dollarisation unstoppable, BRICS cooperation fostering multi-polar currency world
As a global movement to reduce reliance on the dollar-centric financial system emerges, what can the BRICS nations offer in the establishment of a multi-polar currency system?

Amidst the growing flaws of the dollar-centric financial system and the concerning geopolitical weaponisation of the reserve currency, participants at this week’s St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF)

convened to discuss the transition from a unipolar currency-based international financial system to a new world order centred around a multipolar currency.

Moreover, the forum will explore the significant role of BRICS partnerships in shaping this emerging economic landscape.

De-dollarisation is occurring ten times faster than the decline witnessed in the previous two decades. From 2021 to 2022, the dollar’s share in global reserves dropped eight points, from 55% to 47%, compared to 73% in 2001.

What has led to this rapid de-dollarisation in recent years? Sanctions played a significant role. As Elon Musk, CEO of Tesla and SpaceX, warned in a recent tweet

: “If you weaponise currency enough times, other countries will stop using it.”

In response to the Ukraine crisis, the US-led West imposed wide-ranging sanctions on Russia.

Some financial sanctions involved banning Russian banks from the SWIFT financial messaging system and freezing $300 billion worth of assets from Russia’s Central Bank reserves. The economic sanctions have backfired, serving as a wake-up call for many countries worldwide, particularly in the Global South.

“Every night I ask myself why all countries are forced to do their trade backed by the dollar. Why can’t we do our trade backed by our own currencies?” Brazil’s President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva asked these soul-searching questions during his state visit to China in April, which summed up the growing sentiment and frustration regarding the dollar hegemony in international trade.

While actively advocating for local currency settlements among BRICS countries, Brazil signed an agreement with China to conduct trade settlements in their respective currencies before Lula visited China, meaning the annual bilateral trade flow of US$150 billion would be conducted using the Chinese and Brazilian currencies, rather than using the US dollar as an intermediary.

Meanwhile, as a member of the BRICS, Brazil has also been striving to encourage other Latin American countries to join the bloc. During a visit by Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro to Brazil in late May, he expressed a clear desire to join BRICS, a sentiment supported by Lula, who emphasised his dream of using local currencies for settlements and reducing reliance on the US dollar.

While Brazil is leading the movement to de-dollarise Latin America, South Africa, another BRICS member, is also actively involved. Earlier this year, South African Foreign Minister Naledi Pandor expressed her concern and emphasised the importance of creating a fairer payment system as an alternative to the dollar. He believes that the current dollar-centric financial system tends to “privilege” wealthy countries, but developing nations like South Africa must incur additional costs when making payments in dollars. Pandor highlighted this as one of the reasons why the BRICS bloc established the jointly-run New Development Bank (NDB) in 2014.

In the face of the weaponisation of the dollar, Europe also seems to be taking steps to undermine the dollar’s supremacy. French President Emmanuel Macron recently called to reduce the European continent’s reliance on the “extra-territoriality of the US dollar”. Also, Macron has reportedly requested an invitation from South African President Cyril Ramaphosa to attend the BRICS Summit scheduled for August in Pretoria.

While Ramaphosa did not make any commitments to Macron, this bold and innovative move by the French president indicates that his vision, at least regarding international financial reform, aligns with that of the BRICS countries.

So how can the New Development Bank assist in building a multi-polar currency system that is friendly to developing countries and emerging markets?

Firstly, let’s delve into the vision behind establishing the NDB. As the first new multilateral development bank created by developing countries since the end of World War II, the NDB aims to mobilise resources for infrastructure and sustainable development projects in BRICS countries and other emerging economies. Its ultimate goal is to contribute to building a fair, just, and diverse international economic order.

Contrary to the goals of the NDB, the World Bank and the IMF, the two pillars of the Bretton Woods system, have long been focused on establishing and maintaining an international financial system with the United States at the helm and other Western countries and Japan playing supporting roles. Their objective has not been to serve the interests of developing countries genuinely. This is where the NDB steps in to fill the void and address this shortcoming.

Current NDB members include the five founding nations of BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa) as well as Bangladesh, Egypt, the UAE, and Uruguay. More countries are applying to enter or are in the process of joining the bank, such as Argentina, Saudi Arabia, Zimbabwe, and Honduras.

It’s worth noting that the combined GDP of the five BRICS nations (31.5% of the global total) surpassed that of the G7 nations (30.7%) this year, making it the world’s largest economic bloc. It is expected that by 2030, as more countries join BRICS Plus, the disparity between the two groups will further widen. This will increase the economic influence of the BRICS nations, making the New Development Bank even more attractive to other developing countries.

Secondly, the NDB has demonstrated institutional innovation in its operational processes, particularly in equitable governance structure, local currency financing, and sustainable infrastructure projects.

In terms of governance structure, unlike the World Bank’s approach to shareholding, the NDB has equally split shareholding among its five founding member countries. With an equal contribution totalling $100 billion as the initial authorised capital, each member country has equal voting and decision-making rights. More importantly, no country holds veto power, ensuring equal mutual benefits and respect among the nations.

Regarding local currency financing, the NDB stands out from the IMF and the World Bank, which primarily use the U.S. dollar as the dominant currency for international transactions. This new development bank for the Global South offers loans in multiple currencies, including the US dollar, euro, Chinese yuan, and other local currencies. And the approach effectively mitigates exchange rate risks associated with loan projects, reduces the vulnerabilities stemming from excessive reliance on the US dollar, and fosters the growth of member countries’ domestic capital markets.

For instance, as of the first quarter of 2023, loans in local currencies accounted for 21.5% of the NDB’s loan portfolio. And the bank aims to increase the share of project financing conducted in the national currencies of its member countries to 30% during the strategic cycle of 2022-2026.

This objective underscores the NDB’s commitment to promoting financial stability, enhancing regional cooperation, and bolstering the economic resilience of its members.

Regarding investment projects, the NDB focuses on sustainable infrastructure initiatives, including renewable energy, digital infrastructure, smart cities, water resources, and sanitation facilities.

Infrastructure development represents a significant bottleneck for economic growth in developing countries. Existing international multilateral development banks often adopt a cautious approach towards infrastructure investment due to the high costs, complex processes, and politically sensitive nature of environmental concerns and resettlement issues. However, the NDB is determined to make a unique and significant contribution.

The NDB’s “2017-2021 General Strategy

“ shows that about two-thirds of its investments are dedicated to sustainable infrastructure projects. In its ”2022-2026 General Strategy“, 40% of the funds are allocated to projects that promote climate change mitigation and adaptation. These strategies highlight the bank’s commitment to addressing global development challenges by prioritising sustainable infrastructure investments.

Lastly, the BRICS emergency reserve fund , also known as the Contingency Reserve Arrangement (CRA), complements the role of the NDB. With a full scale of US$100 billion, China has pledged the largest share of US$41 billion, while South Africa has committed US$5 billion, and the remaining BRICS countries have each pledged US$18 billion. The function of the CRA is to provide liquidity support through currency swaps when a member state faces a long-term shortage of U.S. dollars and struggles to repay foreign debts. This mechanism allows fellow member states to offer assistance, reducing dependence on U.S. dollar reserves and ensuring stability within the bloc’s financial system.

In summary, the vision of the BRICS bloc and its New Development Bank is focused on enhancing financial autonomy for participating nations, providing assistance to emerging markets and developing countries, and diversifying and stabilising the global financial system. The Global South has been neglected for far too long. They deserve sovereign development and the opportunity to thrive.

Former US spy reveals why Poland sabotaged South Africa peace delegation

Cardboard Cat Forts: The Ultimate DIY Project for Feline Fun

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Picture this: You’re sitting at home, surrounded by Amazon boxes that you’ve been too lazy to recycle. You’ve got some time on your hands, a cat on your lap, and you’re feeling a little bit creative. What do you do? You build a cardboard cat fort, of course!

h/t: sadanduseless

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Congress Tells Treasury Secretary to “Prepare for China to DUMP U.S. Treasuries”

In an absolutely stunning exchange on Capitol Hill, Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen, appearing before a Congressional Committee, was told by Congress to Prepare for China to DUMP $859 Billion in U.S. Treasury Debt Notes — “overnight.”

The exchange went like this:

Congressman: “We did a tabletop exercise, and in response to Sanctions against a Chinese scenario where there would be an invasion of Taiwan, the scenario was that China, the second largest foreign creditor of US Treasuries, would dump that $859 Billion in Treasury Securities.   How are you working with our Allies internationally and also the Federal Reserve to deal with a situation where China would dump that volume of Treasury Securities OVERNIGHT?”

Secretary Yellen: “So, uh, we are not engaging in specific exercises to address such a risk, but the United States National Security Council is certainly concerned on an ongoing basis.”

Congressman: “Madam Secretary, I would encourage Treasury to make preparations and be on-the-ready for that scenario.

Here is video of that specific segment of the Congressional hearing:

Chinese readout of Xi Jinping-Anthony Blinken’s meeting

And an interview with Professor Wu Xinbo on Blinken's visit to China
Jun 19, 2023
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U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken visited China on June 18-19, a trip that was postponed in February due to the “balloon incident”.

Chinese President Xi Jinping met with Blinken at the Great Hall of the People on Monday (June 19). Blinken also spoke with Wang Yi, a member of the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China (CPC) Central Committee and director of the Office of the Foreign Affairs Commission of the CPC Central Committee on Monday, and State Councilor and Foreign Minister Qin Gang on Sunday.

Blinken’s China visit marked the first visit to China by a U.S. Secretary of State since Joe Biden took office as the U.S. President, and the first visit by a U.S. Secretary of State to China since 2018. His visit to China has drawn significant attention from China watchers and the international community.

Today’s newsletter included two parts: firstly, the Chinese readout of the meeting between Xi Jinping and Blinken, and secondly, a translated interview of Professor Wu Xinbo, dean of the Institute of International Studies and director of the Center for American Studies at Fudan University. Professor Wu shared his views on the significance of Blinken’s visit to the China-U.S. relations.

Part 1: Chinese readout of Xi-Blinken meeting in Beijing

1) The Chinese readout via Xinhua

Chinese President Xi Jinping met with U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken at the Great Hall of the People on Monday.

Noting that the world is developing and the times are changing, Xi said the world needs a generally stable China-U.S. relationship, and whether the two countries can find the right way to get along bears on the future and destiny of humanity.

Xi pointed out that the vast expanse of the Earth is big enough to accommodate the respective development and common prosperity of China and the United States. The Chinese, like the Americans, are dignified, confident and self-reliant people, Xi said, adding that they both have the right to pursue a better life. "The common interests of the two countries should be valued, and their respective success is an opportunity instead of a threat to each other."

Xi said the international community is generally concerned about the current state of China-U.S. relations. "It does not want to see conflict or confrontation between China and the United States or choose sides between the two countries, and it expects the two countries to coexist in peace and have friendly and cooperative relations."

The two countries should act with a sense of responsibility for history, for the people and for the world, and handle China-U.S. relations properly, Xi said, adding that in this way, they may contribute to global peace and development, and help make the world, which is changing and turbulent, more stable, certain and constructive.

Xi stressed that major-country competition does not represent the trend of the times, still less can it solve America's own problems or the challenges facing the world. China respects U.S. interests and does not seek to challenge or displace the United States, and in the same vein, the United States needs to respect China and must not hurt China's legitimate rights and interests, said Xi. "Neither side should try to shape the other side by its own will, still less deprive the other side of its legitimate right to development."

Xi said China always hopes to see a sound and steady China-U.S. relationship and believes that the two major countries can overcome various difficulties and find the right way to get along based on mutual respect, peaceful coexistence and win-win cooperation, calling on the U.S. side to adopt a rational and pragmatic attitude and work with China in the same direction.

Xi pointed out that the two sides need to remain committed to the common understandings he and President Biden reached in Bali, and translate the positive statements into actions so as to stabilize and improve China-U.S. relations.

For his part, Blinken conveyed President Biden's greetings to President Xi. He said President Biden believes that the United States and China have an obligation to responsibly manage their relations, adding that this is in the interests of the United States, China and the world.

The United States is committed to returning to the agenda set by the two presidents in Bali, Blinken said, adding that the United States stands by the commitments made by President Biden, namely that the United States does not seek a new Cold War, it does not seek to change China's system, its alliances are not directed at China, it does not support "Taiwan independence," and it does not seek conflict with China.

The U.S. side looks forward to having high-level engagement with the Chinese side, keeping open lines of communication, responsibly managing differences, and pursuing dialogue, exchanges and cooperation, he added.

Xi asked Blinken to convey his regards to President Biden.

Wang Yi and Qin Gang, among others, were present at the meeting.

2) The U.S. readout on the conversation between Secretary Antony J. Blinken And People’s Republic of China President Xi Jinping Before Their Meeting

PRESIDENT XI: (Via interpreter) Mr. Secretary, welcome to China. Director Wang Yi and State Councilor Qin Gang have met or held talks with you at length, and generally speaking the two sides have had candid (inaudible) discussions. The Chinese side has made our decision clear, and the two sides have agreed to follow through the common understandings President Biden and I had reached in Bali. The two sides have also made progress and reached agreement on some specific issues. This is very good.

It’s safe to say that interactions should always be based on mutual respect and sincerity. I hope that through this visit, Mr. Secretary, you will make more positive contributions to stabilizing China-U.S. relations.

SECRETARY BLINKEN: Mr. President, thank you for receiving us today. President Biden asked me to travel to Beijing because he believes that the United States and China have an obligation and responsibility to manage our relationship. The United States is committed to doing that. It’s in the interest of the United States, in the interests of China, and in the interest of the world.

Over the past few days I have had candid and constructive conversations with State Councilor Qin Gang and Director Wang Yi. We covered a broad range of both bilateral and global issues. I appreciate this opportunity to discuss the way forward with you. Thank you.

UPDATE: The U.S. State Department’s readout is now available:

Secretary Blinken’s Visit to the People’s Republic of China (PRC)

Part 2: Professor Wu Xinbo’s view on Blinken’s China visit

In a recent interview with The Paper, Wu Xinbo, dean of the Institute of International Studies and director of the Center for American Studies at Fudan University, said that Blinken’s visit was a consensus reached during the meeting between the two heads of state in November last year. It is a vital link to promote high-level exchanges between the two countries, and at the same time, this visit also intends to confirm with China the “road map” and “timetable” for the following high-level exchanges between the two sides.

According to Wu Xinbo, China and the U.S. may gradually resume their dialogues in the economic, trade, and climate fields for some time to come. Part of the “three cancellations and five suspensions“, countermeasures announced by the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs in response to the then U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s visit to China’s Taiwan region, are expected to be removed.

In addition, there may be some progress in cultural exchanges between China and the U.S. Apart from the issues above, Wu believes that, more importantly, Blinken and other US officials are closely monitoring whether Chinese leaders will attend the APEC summit in November in San Francisco.

Here are some excerpts from the interview, with certain omissions in Wu Xinbo’s responses regarding the potential topics that Blinken’s visit to China may address, since the specifics of Blinken’s three meetings with Chinese leaders have already been officially released.

How to define the nature of Blinken’s China visit?

The Paper: How should we define the nature of Blinken’s visit and the political signals it sends? Can it be seen as an “ice-breaker” in bilateral relations?

Wu: In fact, Blinken’s visit to China now aligns with the consensus reached during the meeting between the Chinese and U.S. presidents in Bali last November to advance high-level exchanges between the two countries. Previously, the visit had been postponed due to the “balloon incident” and Taiwan leader Tsai Ing-wen’s so-called “transit” trip through the United States.

However, this visit cannot be exactly considered as an “ice-breaker” since there have been prior contacts between China and the United States at the high-level. From May 10 to 11, Wang Yi met with Jake Sullivan, U.S. National Security Advisor, in Vienna. [Editor’s note: It counts as the highest-level contact between the two countries since the “balloon incident”]

From May 25 to 26, China’s Commerce Minister Wang Wentao met with US Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo and US Trade Representative Katherine Tai respectively in Washington.

Therefore, Blinken’s visit can be seen as a willingness from both China and the United States to end the recent deadlock and continue advancing high-level interactions. The aim is to address prominent issues within the bilateral relationship and promote coordination and cooperation on certain matters. As for the outcome of this visit, it would require further bilateral interactions to make a definitive assessment.

What communication channels between the two countries are likely to be restored?

The Paper: As far as you know, what communication channels between the two countries are likely to be restored in the days to come? In what fields can the two countries be expected to reach consensus?

Wu: First and foremost is the communication between the commercial and trade sector of the two countries. For instance, many are discussing the expected visits of U.S. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen and Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo. U.S. climate envoy John Kerry is also expected to visit China. These are some of the fields where bilateral dialogues and exchanges may likely resume. We may even have U.S. secretary of transportation in China to discuss the issue regarding the airlines connecting the two countries. Two of the major issues that obstruct the flow of people between China and the U.S. are overpriced airline tickets and too few airlines.

In the meantime, we are looking at the possible resumption of certain mechanisms which were suspended or canceled as part of China’s countermeasures in response to Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi’s visited to the Taiwan region last year, including the talks on climate change and cooperation against transnational crimes:


BEIJING, Aug. 5 (Xinhua) — In disregard of China’s strong opposition and serious representations, Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi visited China’s Taiwan region. Chinese Foreign Ministry on Friday announced the following countermeasures in response:

      1. Canceling China-U.S. Theater Commanders Talk.
      2. Canceling China-U.S. Defense Policy Coordination Talks (DPCT).
      3. Canceling China-U.S. Military Maritime Consultative Agreement (MMCA) meetings.
      4. Suspending China-U.S. cooperation on the repatriation of illegal immigrants.
      5. Suspending China-U.S. cooperation on legal assistance in criminal matters.
      6. Suspending China-U.S. cooperation against transnational crimes.
      7. Suspending China-U.S. counternarcotics cooperation.
      8. Suspending China-U.S. talks on climate change

As for the two militaries, it is expected that one or two work-level exchange mechanisms will be revived. However, due to the current atmosphere of bilateral relations, resumption of work-level exchange mechanisms is perhaps the most we can achieve so far. Exchanges between high-level military officials, such as defense ministers or the chief of staff of China’s Central Military Commission Joint Staff Department and the U.S. chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff, are still hard to realize.

The Paper: Problems with visa issuance between the two countries are also public concern. You mentioned that Blinken would talk about people-to-people exchanges with China. If that is the case, will the visa issuance policy be improved?

Wu: The two sides have actually been in touch with each other on this issue. As much as I know, senior officials of the US government discussed with Chinese envoy to the U.S. about this issue at the beginning of this week. A few days ago, China’s vice minister of education Chen Jie also talked about people-to-people exchanges between the two countries during a visit to the U.S.

People-to-people exchanges are a highlight of Blinken’s visit, which is expected to bring about some concrete results, even though the problems cannot be solved once for all. But it is for sure that progress will be made in this regard, as well as continuous progress in the future.

[Check a latest GRR podcast episode with Stephen D. Mull, Vice Provost for Global Affairs at the University of Virginia, on the importance of U.S.-China people-to-people exchanges]

The APEC summit in San Francisco in November

The Paper: Do you think Blinken’s remarks are meant to heat things up for future visits of U.S. Cabinet members?

Wu: I wouldn’t say that. When the Biden administration interacts with a foreign country, it would, in principle, go through diplomatic procedures before other departments step in, so as to achieve better coordination in terms of policy. Compliance with decision-making procedures is the most marked feature of the Biden administration compared to the Trump administration.

Whatever topics of interest may follow must fall under the charge of more specific agencies. Blinken’s visit is more of a confirmation of the “road map” and “timetable” for the next high-level exchanges between the two countries.

The Paper: Can you give us a sketch of the “road map” and “timetable”?

Wu: Judging from what I learned during my recent visit to Washington DC, the U.S. side believes that China-U.S. Interactions are currently on a very tight schedule, because many of the visits that should have taken place before June were not made possible until recently, owing to the postponement of Blinken’s visit to China in February. That means we have to move faster, and the U.S. side is also eager to make these visits as soon as possible.

In fact, the biggest concern for the U.S. is still the APEC summit in San Francisco in November. When I was in Washington DC, the chairman of the U.S.-China Business Council told me that they were somewhat at a loss, not knowing who was going to represent China at APEC. There weren’t many hotel rooms left and they had to make bookings now. So it seems that the U.S. side is also doubtful of the situation.

The Paper: Some believe that as the 2024 U.S. presidential election unfolds, the “time window” for improving the China-U.S. Relations is now nearing its end. As you said, the U.S. thinks they are on a tight schedule. Do you think the “time window” is disappearing?

Wu: Yes. With the U.S. focused on the APEC summit, there is little time left between now and November. Yet it would take much longer than that to make preparations if Chinese leaders were to attend the summit.

At the same time, the U.S. presidential election next year will cast a negative impact on the overall attitude towards China. It will then be politically difficult to improve China-U.S. relations and strengthen interactions.

The terms on which China and the U.S. interact is not up to U.S.’s whims

The Paper: Looking back on the past four months, how will these events influence the current and future China-U.S. relations? What are the lessons and implications to be learned by the two countries?

Wu: First, the China-U.S. relations are, for the most part, brittle and unstable. If any incident occurs at this delicate moment, it must be handled tactfully and calmly, with caution against excessive influence of domestic politics.

Second, the United States must handle the Taiwan question, which involves China’s core interests, with caution. China has a clear position and a firm resolve on the Taiwan question, and has increasing capabilities to guard its interests.

Third, the terms of China-U.S. interactions must be agreed on by both sides and not decided unilaterally by the United States. The United States is not allowed to come whenever they want and then wave away the decision. Blinken postponed his visit to China in February and said he wanted to resume the visit in April. But in fact, it is really not his decision.

More about Wu Xinbo:

Wu Xinbo is Professor and Dean, Institute of International Studies, and Director at the Center for American Studies, Fudan University. He teaches and researches China’s foreign and security policy, Sino-U.S. relations, and U.S. Asia-Pacific policy. Wu also serves on the policy advisory board of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs and on the editorial board of many renowned English language journals.

Currently, he is a member of the Advisory Council of Asia Society Policy Institute, as well as a member of The Trilateral Commission. Wu actively engaged in academic research and government decision-making consultations, undertook research projects entrusted by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was invited to participate in expert meetings, and led a team of experts and scholars to conduct research abroad.

Last year in November, Wu Xinbo, as a member of a diverse group of former Chinese officials and scholars, visited New York in the largest semi-official diplomatic initiative in Sino-US relations in three years. After the visit, GRR posted an article introducing the interview of Wu who shared his observations from the delegation’s visit to the United States, as well as some in-depth insights into the 2022 midterm elections in the US, bipartisanship and social and political ecosystems in the US, and the meeting between Chinese and U.S. defense chiefs.

From June 5 to 11, Wu Xinbo visited the United States for exchanges and co-hosted “the 13th China-U.S. Young Diplomats Dialogue”, an event supported by the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Chinese Embassy in the United States, and the U.S. Department of State. During his stay in Washington, Wu Xinbo exchanged views on the current China-U.S. relationship with officials from the U.S. Department of State and experts from think tanks. He also paid a visit to Xie Feng, China’s new ambassador to the United States.

“One of my observations from this visit to the United States is that the U.S. side currently holds some expectations for the restart of China-U.S. relations. Although these expectations are not high, let alone optimistic, there is still a sense of effort to promote the rebooting of bilateral relations. This also aligns with the interests of the U.S. side,” said Wu Xinbo.


This is why the Chinese are ahead

Senior Chinese diplomat Wang Yi (2nd R) meets with U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken (2nd L) in Beijing, China, June 19, 2023.

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It is hard to predict the significance of Antony Blinken’s Beijing trip and to which extent can it thaw the frosty China-US ties.

Antony Blinken arrived at the Beijing Capital International Airport on the morning of June 18. He was greeted by Yang Tao, Director General of the Department of North American and Oceanian Affairs of the Foreign Ministry, and U.S. Ambassador to China, Nicholas Burns. There was no red carpet, flowers and applause.

This is the first trip to China by a US Secretary of State in almost five years. The visit comes at the lowest point of China-US ties, at a critical point where a choice needs to be made between dialogue or confrontation, cooperation or conflict.

A planned Blinken visit in February was called off after a suspected Chinese spy balloon flew in US airspace. The “twists and turns” of this visit itself highlights the highly complicated and difficult situation of bilateral relations.

Low expectations

Neither China nor US has high expectations on the trip, but information released by both sides after the talks on the first day has brought some positive expectation.

Daniel Kritenbrink, the State Department,s top diplomat for East Asia said a day ahead of the visit:

“We’re not going to Beijing with the intent of having some sort of breakthrough or transformation in the way that we deal with one another. We’re coming to Beijing with a realistic, confident approach and a sincere desire to manage our competition in the most responsible way possible. We do hope at a minimum that we will achieve that goal.”

US words and actions of the US are inconsistent

The US side asks for communication on the one side, yet on the other, suppresses and contains China by every possible means. In recent months, while pushing to resume high-level diplomatic talks, the US has slapped sanctions on Chinese companies, pushed allies to restrict semiconductor tech exports to China, rallied other advanced economies to counter Beijing’s “economic coercion” and signed a new trade deal with Taiwan.

The mixed signals sent by the US side are very confusing. This makes the Chinese side have no particularly high hopes for Blinken’s visit. It resulted in the attitude change of Chinese toward Blinken’s trip.

But this does not mean that China refuses to engage and improve China-US relations. On the contrary, the Chinese are more strategically determined and patient about the stabilization and improvement of China-US relations.

We hope that Blinken’s visit can be a good start for more communication, and we also hope that he can bring back the accurate information obtained in China to American society. The information is, in short, mutual respect, peaceful coexistence, cooperation and win-win. These short words deserve Washington’s careful consideration.

Rosemary Rolls

Rosemary Dinner Rolls scaled
Rosemary Dinner Rolls scaled

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup salted butter
  • 2 cups self-rising flour
  • 1 cup milk
  • 3 tablespoons mayonnaise
  • 2 tablespoons sour cream
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary (or 2 teaspoons dried rosemary)
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Melt 1/2 teaspoon butter in each cup of a 12-count muffin tin.
  3. In a medium bowl, combine flour, milk, mayonnaise, sour cream, rosemary and pepper; stir to mix well.
  4. Spoon batter into muffin cups, filling half full.
  5. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, or until golden brown.

The Trammps – Disco Inferno (Original Long Version – Tony Mendes Video Re Edit)

China donates 20,000 tons of fertilizer to PH

By: – Reporter / @JMangaluzINQ
/ 11:38 AM June 16, 2023
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MANILA, Philippines — The People’s Republic of China on Friday donated a total of 20,000 metric tons of urea fertilizer to the Philippines, which President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. himself received from Chinese Ambassador Huang Xilian.

During a ceremonial turnover event, Marcos thanked China for the urea fertilizer, which is a common type of fertilizer rich with nitrogen.

“On behalf of the Filipino people, let me extend our deepest gratitude and appreciation to the Chinese Government and its people for this donation—a solid gesture of friendship and goodwill that is in keeping with our long and storied history of trade and cultural exchange,” said the President during the ceremony in a National Food Authority (NFA) warehouse in Valenzuela City.

“This donation that came from China is a product of our request from our friends from all over the world,” said Marcos.

According to the President, who also sits as the chief of the Department of Agriculture (DA), the Philippines had difficulty procuring affordable fertilizer.

“This donation that came from China was a product of our request from all our friends around the world during the crisis when fertilizer — well, what we are still feeling now when fertilizer prices went up and the availability was also because of the supply chain problems that we are experiencing with our usual suppliers and China did not think twice and immediately came up,” said Marcos.

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2023 06 21 18 49

China turns over 20,000 tons of fertilizer to the Philippines, contained in a warehouse in Valenzuela City. (Photo from Jean Mangaluz)

The Chinese Ambassador said that “the arrival of the fertilizers speaks for China’s actions and sincerity, and demonstrates China’s friendship to the people of the Philippines”.

Xilian added that fertilizers are crucial to production and feeding the population, and that he hoped that the fertilizers will help Filipino farmers.

The 20,000 ton donation was delivered on June 7 and stored in the Valenzuela warehouse until the ceremony. It was then received by DA Regional Field Offices from Regions 1, 2, 3, 5 and Calabarzon.

The ceremony was also attended by Department of Social Welfare and Development Secretary Rex Gatchalian. Officials from the DA, NFA, Department of Budget and Management, and other agencies also attended the event.

Urea fertilizer Fertilizer prices previously hiked following the Russia-Ukraine war, with the Philippines struggling to secure fertilizer deals with other countries.

The Phantom Time Hypothesis | 300 Years ARE MISSING from the Calendar

First Tangible Sign that NATO “Exercise” May Go to LIVE WAR with Russia in 4 Days

The first tangible sign that the ongoing NATO “exercise” dubbed “Air Defender 2023” will go “live” to direct war with Russia, has come out: British mass-media outlet SKY NEWS is running a piece calling for Western Air Power to directly enter the Ukraine war and bomb Russians.

On Sky News, an Op-Ed piece lays it out.  The piece is titled:

Western intervention is the only credible way to protect Ukraine’s counteroffensive from Russian air power

It lays out all the pertinent facts as to why Ukraine stands NO CHANCE AT ALL of defeating Russia, and concludes “Kyiv needs modern air power, not a squadron or so of second-hand F-16 platforms that are neither supportable nor credible, against modern, stealthy Russian fighters.”

Written by Sky News “Military Analyst” Sean Bell, the piece introduces to readers the notion that the West entering the Ukraine Conflict with air power is “needed.”

(HT REMARK: Folks, Western Media Outlets do not — E V E R — print things like this unless they have been told to do so by government.  As you might guess, government plants stories like this to begin to mold and manipulate public opinion, because not only does government WANT to do something, it INTENDS to do it.  They want to prime the public to have this in their minds.)

What I see going on here is a coming media blitz, to manipulate the general public into preparing for, or expecting, Western air power intervention into the conflict.  That a UK Media Outlet is the first step in this process is no surprise; the UK has been at the forefront of every step of the escalation in Ukraine.

Conspicuously absent from the Sky News piece are the exact, precise CONSEQUENCES of such a move:  World War 3, that will go nuclear.

Today is June 19.   NATO’s ongoing air exercise “Air Defender 2023” is scheduled to be completed THIS FRIDAY, June 23.

I have been warning for weeks that I think NATO and the collective West will either find an excuse — or make one — to convert that air “exercise” into a LIVE war with Russia.

My logic was simple; governments of NATO did not move three-hundred-thousand troops, and with “Air Defender 23” 225 war planes and air crews consisting of ten-thousand men, over to Europe, just two small countries away from the Russia-Ukraine conflict, as an “exercise.”

When governments move that many troops, tanks, artillery guns, armored personnel carriers, planes, and air crews, THEY INTEND TO USE THEM.

I even reported to you last week, that NATO created a temporary refueling station in Wunstorf, Germany, loaded with 2.4 MILLION Liters of aviation fuel!   For an “exercise?????”    Uhhhhhh, no.

Now we see a major piece in a major British media outlet, Sky News, taking the first step to putting in the public mind, the idea of NATO Air Power entering the Ukraine-Russia conflict.  That Op-Ed piece can be read at its source, HERE.

Make no mistake, Russia has long anticipated something like this and they explicitly told us “If Article 5 Collective Self Defense is activated against Russia, and NATO conventional troops enter the conflict, Russia will have no choice but to use its nuclear weapons.”

They’ve told us this over, and over, and over again.

Seems like no one in the West is listening.  Either that, or the West is deluding itself that something so horrifying as actual nuclear war, “could never happen.”   I think it CAN happen and I also think Russia WOULD do what they say, because if they fail to do so, then Russia would no longer exist.

Folks, I hate to repeat this, but the simple truth is, we could be only four short DAYS away from nuclear war.

You need to have Emergency food, water, medicines (the ones you need to live), a generator to make electric power if the grid goes down, and fuel for that generator.  You also need COMMUNICATIONS gear such a CB or HAM radio.

Make a plan for your family: What will YOU do if nuclear bombs are launched against the US.  Where will you and your family meet?  Where will you all go (if anywhere)?  What route will you take to get there?  What if that route is blocked; what alternates can you take?

Right now, NATO has at least 225 aircraft taking part in the largest air drill in its history, in Germany; just two small countries away from the Russia-Ukraine conflict. NATO has also positioned three-hundred-thousand (300,000) troops near Russia’s border.   You don’t move those numbers of troops and planes, then not use them.

NATO has supported Ukraine, but is losing, badly.  Ukraine’s __only__ hope is if NATO becomes directly involved in the conflict, and if that happens, Russia has already made clear, it will use nuclear weapons to defend itself.  Those weapons will not merely be used in Ukraine, they will be sent to NATO countries . . . . including the USA.

Some people erroneously believe Russia would never hit the US because of mutually assured destruction, but that notion is no longer true.

Russia has hypersonic missiles, the USA does not.

Russia’s hypersonic missiles can avoid our missile defenses.

Submarine-Launched Russian nuclear missiles can reach our nuclear silos BEFORE a Presidential Order to launch can get OUR missiles out of the silos!  Our missiles get blown up inside their silos without ever being fired.

Russia has bomb shelters for its population; we DO NOT.

Russia has stocked those shelters with food, water, medicines, generators, fuel, and machine tools; WE HAVE NOT.

Russia has installed hospital operating rooms in all their shelters, with surgical gear and medicines; WE HAVE NOT.

Put simply, if the missiles fly, Russia survives, WE DO NOT.

If a nuclear bomb detonates on US soil, there will be chaos, havoc, and fear.  People will panic throughout the entire country.  Millions will rush out to supermarkets trying to get food and water.  Shelves will be stripped bare in minutes.

The detonation of a nuclear bomb __could__ take out vast electronic networks, making credit and debit cards useless.  You must have CASH MONEY in your possession to assure you have a way to buy things. 

June 23 is when NATO “Air Defender” exercise ends and many, many people believe NATO will either find an excuse to enter the war, or make-up an excuse with some “false flag” event to justify it’s entry into the war.

Once NATO enters, or declares “Article 5 collective self defense against Russia” that’s it.  That’s the end.  The missiles will fly within minutes.

DO NOT be one of the families who find themselves with no food, no water, no medicine, no generator, no fuel.  Because no one will share __theirs__ with you.   Sharing with you means taking food out of THEIR family’s mouths to feed YOUR family.   Few if any people are going to do that.

Prepare this week.  Do not wait.

Just think about what you’ve already seen in years past when people panic before a hurricane hits:  Food stores stripped bare:

 

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10b60c7465bcab6a092ea6b00ab5b2ddfe68e7faaf6af86146f4b59fc2a22367 4082187

At gas stations, people panicking and fighting with each other trying to get gas:

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Storm 1 superJumbo

If they panic like THIS for a Hurricane, what do you think they’ll do when nuclear bombs are coming?  It will be freak-out city.  Mad Max scenario!

Better to have extra food and not need it, than to need it and not have it.  If things do NOT go bad, you can always eat the food, and put the cash back in the bank.  But if things DO go bad, the shear panic that arises will make it all but impossible for you to get supplies.

Plan, don’t panic.

Get some extra rice, beans, canned soups, canned meat like chicken, canned tuna, boxes of pasta, jars of sauce.  Have a way to HEAT FOOD / COOK, if the grid goes down; a propane barbecue grill or something similar. Get a gas can and fill it (but do NOT store gasoline in your house, store it outside.)

Your lives may depend on you planning and taking some small steps NOW, in case the SHTF.  You have only 4 days left – maybe.

Yvonne Elliman – If I Can’t Have You

China leads world in 19 of 23 critical tech; US way behind in hypersonics, electronic warfare, undersea capabilities

In other key technologies such as autonomous systems operation technology, advanced robotics, adversarial AI-reverse engineering and protective cyber the collective strength of the AUKUS countries shifts this picture, and they take the global lead
FP Staff June 07, 2023 16:31:24 IST

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In bad news for US-led West, China is leading in “high-impact research” in 19 out of 23 technologies, with “commanding lead” in hypersonics, electronic warfare and undersea capabilities.

This was revealed in the Critical Technology Tracker report of the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI).

“China is leading in high-impact research in 19 of these 23 technologies and has a commanding lead in hypersonics, electronic warfare and in key undersea capabilities. But in other key technologies such as autonomous systems operation technology, advanced robotics, adversarial AI-reverse engineering and protective cyber the collective strength of the AUKUS countries shifts this picture, and they take the global lead,” the report said.

In a dangerous trend, the report cited an unassailable gap between China and other countries in some key technological areas.

“But across a number of technology areas China’s lead is so great that no aggregation of countries exceeds its share – highlighting the importance of the accelerating effect of greater collaboration between like-minded partners.”

“For some technologies at least 9 of the world’s top 10 research institutions are based in China (for autonomous underwater vehicles it’s 10/10) and they are collectively generating 8 times more high-impact research than the second-ranked country (in all cases the US).”

“In these 23 technologies, ASPI’s talent tracker dataset shows 14.2 per cent of high-impact authors working in China completed postgraduate training in an AUKUS country (US = 8.5 per cent UK = 3.8 per cent, Australia = 1.9 per cent), while 4.3 per cent trained in the EU, 1.9 per cent Canada, 1.6 per cent Singapore and 1.1 Japan. That knowledge import is highest in defence categories like hypersonic detection (AUKUS 19.5%) and electronic warfare (AUKUS 17.6 per cent),” ASPI added.

What is ‘Critical Technology Tracker’

According to ASPI, its ‘Critical Technology Tracker’ “provides – beyond datasets showing research performance – are unique insights into strategy, intent and potential future capabilities.

It also provides valuable insights into the spread and concentrations of global expertise across a range of critical areas. Sometimes countries are leading because they are well ahead across the entire technology (research, commercialisation, manufacturing, supply: for example China’s stunning lead in electric batteries).

In other cases, a country is leading in high impact research output because they (and their institutions: universities, national labs and companies) are seeking to catch-up through significant investment, typically incentivised by government funding and policy directives.”

Super Sweet Tea

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00VL SWEETTEA superJumbo

Ingredients

  • 1 gallon spring or distilled water
  • 1 healthy pinch baking soda
  • 4 – 6 family size tea bags (I like Great Value Decaf)
  • 2 – 2 1/4 cups sugar

Instructions

  1. In a 2-quart saucepan add 1 healthy pinch (about 1/8 teaspoon) of baking soda and fill pot to about 3/4 full and boil.
  2. Remove from heat and add tea bags. Let bags set for about an hour, dipping 4-5 times every 15 minutes or so.
  3. While waiting for tea to steep, in a 1-gallon pitcher, add the sugar and add roughly 1 quart of water to dissolve the sugar.
  4. When finished steeping, add tea to sugar water mixture and add remaining water; stir and chill.

 

Anyone remember this guy?

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main qimg 8a0585be98d8d31a36c37ff8b25478bc lq

That’s Francis Gary Powers. In 1960, his U-2 spy plane was shot down over Soviet skies during a CIA black op.

This didn’t trigger a thermonuclear war, not even close.

Now how about these people:

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main qimg 7d74da52e8d841bc076e64250d4bc5cf lq

That’s the crew of the EP-3 spy plane captured by the PLA. Again, no war.

And what about this incident:

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main qimg 25540ce8a02ffffbca7bad9e3a4aad85 lq

That’s the South Korean warship Cheonan after a North Korean torpedo hit it. Major incident for sure, but war was never a real possbility.

Point here is that war between major powers, or even minor powers is serious business. Singular incidents rarely spark wars unless one side already really want it or there’s some colossal mismanagement of diplomacy.

The last time an attack on an American warship sparked a war was with the Maddox in Vietnam. And that incident didn’t actually happen. It was used as an excuse to send troops to South Vietnam.

Blinken gets his just rewards

3 years ago this man (unfortunately) died:

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main qimg 992a01da8851c980432943243d4e9872 lq

That guy’s name was Joseph Samuel Girardi. And he was nothing special.

Yet he was voted the best seller of all time by the Guinness World Record Book.

His job?

Salesman in a car dealership.

His talent?

It was IMPOSSIBLE for his clients to resist him.

No matter what company he worked for: he was consistently the BEST car salesman, EVERY time.


His colleagues began to wonder:

  • Was he cheating?
  • Was he manipulating his customers?
  • Was he threatening them to buy?

No one knew.

Until the day when…

A psychology researcher – Robert Cialdini – decided to study how Joseph sold.

After several weeks of research, Robert Cialdini made an astonishing discovery:

This good old Joseph.. was JUST a nice guy.

Yes, yes.

That was his secret.

He was literally… nice.

People bought from him because they liked Joseph.

But Cialdini deepened his research. And he found 3 details that made Joseph sympathetic:


1/ He often complimented

This is one of the most UNDERESTIMATED techniques of influence.

And yet it works better than anything else:

Joseph often gave sincere and laudatory compliments (not trivialities like: “You are beautiful”)

He found what interested his client, and he complimented him on it.


2/ He was looking for similarities

Joseph talked easily.

“Oh you like canoeing? I did it last summer with my son Eliott!”

“Your son’s name is Eliott? Like my dad, it’s fun!”

It’s the kind of (very) mundane discussions that bring people together – like it or not.


3/ He gave attention

One of Joseph’s craziest feats:

It is to have sent to + 13,000 customers greeting cards for the holidays. With the inscription inside: “You are a friend.”

Nothing more.


Sympathy is perhaps the ultimate form of manipulation. The one no one sees.

Yet it is more powerful and influential than anything else.

Because no one notices.

Kozyrev Mirrors and massive geopolitical change

Personally, I remain guarded and reserved about any changes in United States Geo-political policy. Simply because, the most effective propaganda is that which YOU WANT TO BELIEVE.

Ah, Isn’t that exactly what is going on now?

What I see are two vectors.

[1] a deconstruction of the entangling of the Ukraine fiasco.

[2] Monied interests demanding that the Chinese situation stabilize.

Both of the vectors are being driven by monied interests funding the radical neocons. I do not see that baseline problems being resolved. Instead, I see trivial “walk backs” from the brink of catastrophic global war.

I am very interested in the Kozyrev Mirrors. Please make sure that you check them out later on (down further) in this article.

Summary;

Do not pull out your Champagne yet. It is but tiny steps walking away from a catastrophic situation, but the fundamental underlying drivers are still in place and are not changing. As long as Tom Cotton and Victoria Newland are still holding the reins of power, there can be no peace.

Potato and Onion Fry-Up

potato and onion recipe 10 500x500
potato and onion recipe 10 500×500

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • 4 to 6 large potatoes, peeled, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
  • 1 large onion, halved, cut into 1/4-inch slices
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 4 eggs, beaten

Instructions

  1. Heat olive oil in large skillet over medium high heat.
  2. Add potatoes and onions; cook, turning with spatula, 10 minutes.
  3. Reduce heat to medium; cover, cook until tender, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes.
  4. Add salt and pepper.
  5. Cook, uncovered, turning mixture with a spatula, until onions are golden, potatoes have begun to break apart and are slightly crunchy, 9 minutes.
  6. Stir in eggs; cook until firm, about 1 minute.

Yield: 6 servings

CONFIRMED: TACTICAL NUCLEAR BOMBS TRANSFERRED TO BELARUS

For the first time, actual, live, Tactical Nuclear Bombs have been transferred from Russia into Belarus, just north of Ukraine. This was publicly confirmed by Russian President Vladimir Putin during his speech to the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum today.

resident Vladimir Putin delivered a keynote address at the St Petersburg International Economic Forum, highlighting positive macroeconomic trends in the Russian economy and expressing doubt about the sustainability of Ukraine’s military operations suggesting that Kyiv heavily relies on external sources for equipment and fighting capabilities.

During his speech, Putin also revealed that Russia has successfully transported its initial batch of tactical nuclear weapons to Belarus. This move comes as part of a previously announced plan, which has raised concerns and increased tensions with the United States and its allies in relation to the ongoing conflict in Ukraine.

Putin said, “The first nuclear charges were delivered to the territory of Belarus. But only the first. This is the first part. But by the end of the summer, by the end of the year, we will complete this work.”

Ukraine war

“Soon Ukraine will stop using its own equipment altogether. Nothing remains of it. Everything with which they fight and everything that they use is brought in from the outside. You can’t fight for long like that,” he said, as per a translation of his speech by Reuters news agency.

Regarding Ukraine’s counteroffensive, President Putin commented that Ukrainian forces did not achieve their objectives in any of the sectors they targeted. He expressed doubt about the prospects for success and opined that the Ukrainian armed forces face significant challenges in the conflict.

“They did not achieve their goals in any of the sectors … I think that the Ukrainian armed forces have no chance here…,” said Putin.

When discussing Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s Jewish heritage, President Putin said, “I have many Jewish friends. They say Zelensky is not a Jew, he is a disgrace to the Jewish people.”

U.S. Admits Defeat In War On Russia And China

Confronted with the realities of life the Biden administration has in the last days acknowledged defeat in two on its most egregious and delusional foreign policy games.

The Ukrainian counter-offensive has failed. Its army is getting slaughtered on the battlefield. The ‘counteroffensive’ of the ‘NATO trained’ Ukrainian brigades has made no real progress on any front. The high level of losses of men and material make it impossible that it will ever again regain the initiative.

The U.S. aim was to integrate the Ukraine into NATO. It would then have been able to station U.S. troops in Ukraine and to put its weapons into reach of Moscow so that any independent Russian move could be countered with a threat of imminent annihilation.

After more than 20 years of pursuing that aim the U.S. threw the towel:

President Biden on Saturday said he won’t make it easier for Ukraine to join NATO, adding that the country at war with Russia has to meet the requirements to be a member.“They got to meet the same standards. So, I’m not going to make it easier,” Biden told reporters. “I think they’ve done everything relating to demonstrating the ability to coordinate militarily, but there’s a whole issue of is their system secure? Is it noncorrupt? Does it meet all the standards … every other nation in NATO does.”

And yes, that is a change. A big one:

Biden has reportedly previously expressed that he is open to removing the Member Action Plan hurdle for Ukraine to join NATO, which requires countries that want to join the alliance make reforms militarily and democratically.

Still, it is not enough:

Biden has not said anything new. Biden senses that the US lost the proxy war but he must not and cannot admit it. So, in the absence of a time machine, which could have taken him all the way back to 1999 when the NATO’s expansion began unfolding, Biden simply walked back to the default position of the 2008 NATO Summit at Bucharest welcoming Ukraine into the alliance via the MAP route — as if that moment fifteen years ago is now the past and cannot be pulled back to the present. Russia is not going to accept it.

Though packaged in nice words the European Union gave Ukraine a similar negative outlook (machine translation):

An EU report on Ukraine’s membership bid states that Kiev has so far met two of the seven conditions required to start formal EU accession negotiations.

“There is progress. The report will be moderately positive. This is not about embellishing reality, but about recognizing progress, for example, there are well-known anti-corruption cases. In particular, in the case of the head of the Supreme Court Knyazev,” said the official, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

“In terms of reforms, the glass would be half full, we would never take a negative tone towards Ukraine at the moment. Judicial reforms have made some progress, although there are still key ones that need to be carried out. Not everything is satisfactory.”

The much hyped counter-offensive has indeed become a death trap for the U.S. EU and NATO.

The other U.S. defeat was acknowledged by U.S. Secretary of State Anthony Blinken at the end of his trip to Bejing:

The United States will not support Taiwan breaking away from China, Secretary of State Anthony Blinken has said, amid a series of confusing statements by Joe Biden on the issue.’We do not support Taiwan independence,’ America’s top diplomat said in Beijing after meeting with Chinese president Xi Jingping.

This was more than a verbal change in Blinken’s pronouncements:

The US State Department has updated its fact sheet on Taiwan again to reinstate a line about not supporting formal independence for the Chinese-claimed, democratically governed island.

“We oppose any unilateral changes to the status quo from either side; we do not support Taiwan independence; and we expect cross-Strait differences to be resolved by peaceful means,” according to the document, referring to the strait separating the island from the Asian mainland.Last month, the State Department changed its website on Taiwan, removing wording both on not supporting Taiwan independence and on acknowledging Beijing’s position that Taiwan is part of China, which angered Beijing.

Blinken’s change of heart came after an extremely short meeting with President Xi which had followed a series of lectures by other high ranking Chinese officials:

Wang gave a comprehensive explanation of the historical logic and inevitable trend of China’s development and rejuvenation, and elaborated on the distinctive features of Chinese modernization and the rich substance of China’s whole-process people’s democracy.

He urged the U.S. side not to project onto China the assumption that a strong country is bound to seek hegemony and not to misjudge China with the beaten path of traditional Western powers. “This is key to whether the United States can truly return to an objective and rational policy toward China.”

Wang demanded that the United States stop playing up the so-called “China threat”, lift illegal unilateral sanctions against China, stop suppressing China’s scientific and technological advances, and do not wantonly interfere in China’s internal affairs.

He stressed that safeguarding national unity has always been the core of China’s core interests. It is where the future of the Chinese nation lies and the abiding historical mission of the CPC.

On the Taiwan question, China has no room for compromise or concession, Wang said.

The Chinese language readout of the Blinken-Wang meetings is reportedly even more scornful than its English translation.

The next step for China is to stop the provocative ‘innocent passage’ drive-bys by U.S. military ships and airplanes in the Taiwan Straits. To do that it simply has to apply the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea:

Article 38
Right of transit passage
1. In straits referred to in article 37, all ships and aircraft enjoy the right of transit passage, which shall not be impeded; except that, if the strait is formed by an island of a State bordering the strait and its mainland, transit passage shall not apply if there exists seaward of the island a route through the high seas or through an exclusive economic zone of similar convenience with respect to navigational and hydrographical characteristics.

A view on a map shows that this evidently applies to the strait between mainland China and the Chinese island named Taiwan.

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2023 06 21 06 43

biggerIf the U.S. really has a One China policy it will have to accept that the Strait is off limits.

This double whammy of defeat in its wars on Russia and China will take some time to stick.

In the Ukraine conflict there are still dreams of creating some kind of stalemate, of implementing some kind of a Korean cease-fire demarcation line on the 38th parallel:

U.S. officials are planning for the growing possibility that the Russia-Ukraine war will turn into a frozen conflict that lasts many years — perhaps decades — and joins the ranks of similar lengthy face-offs in the Korean peninsula, South Asia and beyond.The options discussed within the Biden administration for a long-term “freeze” include where to set potential lines that Ukraine and Russia would agree not to cross, but which would not have to be official borders. The discussions — while provisional — have taken place across various U.S. agencies and in the White House.

Russia wont have any of that. It will thoroughly defeat the Ukrainian army. It will retake the parts of Ukraine which for centuries had been Russian before the communists assigned those administratively to the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.

The rest of a then neutral Ukraine, cut off from the sea and the mineral riches of the east, will be handed over to the underling that Russia is willing to accept.

The double defeat in its wars against the ‘rest of the world’ marks the end of the Wolfowitz doctrine:

The doctrine announces the U.S.’s status as the world’s only remaining superpower following the collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of the Cold War and proclaims its main objective to be retaining that status.

Our first objective is to prevent the re-emergence of a new rival, either on the territory of the former Soviet Union or elsewhere, that poses a threat on the order of that posed formerly by the Soviet Union. This is a dominant consideration underlying the new regional defense strategy and requires that we endeavor to prevent any hostile power from dominating a region whose resources would, under consolidated control, be sufficient to generate global power.

The end of ‘unilateral moment’ is there for anyone to see.

The Republicans will of course loudly blame Biden for this even though they are just as guilty of overreach as the other side of the isle. Biden may well have to sacrifice Blinken as the pawn guilty of losing the game.

Anyway, neither will help him to get reelected.

It is, by the way, not just a coincident that Israel, on the same day of the U.S. admission of defeat, got whacked by fighters of the Palestinian resistance. This another of those U.S. sponsored global problems that China is eager to solve.

Posted by b on June 20, 2023 at 9:42 UTC | Permalink

Breaking News: Denmark Officially APPROVES Providing 4th Generation F-16 Fighter Jets to Ukraine

Denmark’s Acting Defense Minister, Troels Lund Poulsen, has said that Denmark will send F-16 fighters to Ukraine if the U.S. approves.   (It’s on!)

There are 43 F-16 Fighting Falcon jets in service with the Royal Danish Air Force, 30 of which are an active part of the fleet. But they are now being replaced by the more modern American fifth-generation F-35 Lightning II fighters.

Ukrainian pilots will soon come to Denmark, where they will be trained to fly and maintain F-16 aircraft. The training will take place at the Skrydstrup base in Jutland.

Hilarious Vintage X-Rated Movie Posters From Your Dad’s Era

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In a day and age where sex is literally at our fingertips, where we can see x-rated pictures and films in the privacy of our own bedrooms (or even bathrooms), it’s hard to imagine that at one point in time people had to venture out into public in order to see porn.

They had to be seen entering an “adult” theatre, purchase a ticket and sit in a room full of jerk offs in order to see a porn flick. And the x-rated film industry had to create enticing posters to lure viewers in to said theatre, to make them want to risk someone they knew from work or school or church seeing them walk into one of these houses of ill repute.

While porn flicks today have names like “Butt Job 7” or “Only Teen Anal 18,” the adult film industry had to be more creative in their presentation of x-rated films half a century ago. Here’s a collection of pretty hilarious vintage adult movie posters that may have gotten your dad or grandpa excited enough to go to the movies by himself.

h/t: cvltnation

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retro x rated film poster 1

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Bending Time: The Successful Time Travel Experiments using Kozyrev Mirrors

You can access the book for FREE online. HERE.

Brown Sugared Turkey Bacon

maple and brown sugar bacon 3050910 hero 01 bbb394fe5c174185aeb633e0380dd9b9
maple and brown sugar bacon 3050910 hero 01 bbb394fe5c174185aeb633e0380dd9b9

Ingredients

  • 1 (12 ounce) package turkey bacon
  • Vegetable cooking spray
  • 1/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
  • 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons coarsely ground pepper

Instructions

  1. Arrange bacon in a single layer in an aluminum foil-lined broiler pan coated with cooking spray. Sprinkle evenly with brown sugar and pepper.
  2. Bake at 425 degrees F for 14 to 18 minutes or until done.
  3. Serve immediately.

Democracy – is a very very dangerous concept

It is like a Ball of Polonium. It has to be handled very carefully. If you handle it carefully and utilize it perfectly – it gives you the finest result but the slightest mistake and it can be disastrous.

Reason – People are NOT equal

This is the Golden Rule!!!!

In any Successful Country – you must always have Ruler and Ruled

The Biggest mistake with Countries which had Ruler and Ruled was the conclusion that Rulers are BORN. Its why most Monarchies ultimately could not go forward. Rulers eventually became incompetent like Louis XVI or Nicholas II or John Lackland or Wilhelm II etc.

China rightly says Rulers are Chosen based on Sheer MERIT and ABILITY


You can count on your finger tips the number of Democracies Post World War II which are successful today. Most Democracies are Disasters.

Why?

People are not equal

A Toilet Cleaner or a Rag Picker cannot have the same decision making ability as a Professor or a Businessman or a Clerk or an Army Officer

They are all different

So how can they all be given the same rights and choice of their leader?

The Poor will obviously sell to the highest bidder or will be most likely to be brainwashed

The Middle Class will be most likely to vote based on taxation or morals (Abortion or Toughness on Crime)

The Upper Class will be most likely to vote based on who provides the maximum financial advantages


Why is Democracy so dangerous?

2023 06 21 09 45
2023 06 21 09 45

Atal Bihari Vajpayee is the best example

He was a Good Leader and could have taken India easily to a much better position than it is today had he remained PM until 2009

He had a terrific team of Ministers and Excellent Advisors

HE LOST

He Lost because the Rabble voted him out because he did not appease them enough

In China – the RABBLE are put in their place. They do what they are told to do or else….

This may look a bit like slavery but it creates superb efficiency where everyone does what he is best suited to do.

And if someone from the rabble is talented enough – he can rise to the top and easily become a EXCOM Member and a Top Minister


The fact is in China – the Best of the Best Govern and Decide on the Policies and if those policies fail – they are replaced by other meritorious candidates.

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main qimg c019c724a6e1bd7fb91d069f731ddb41 lq

And…

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main qimg edf67d957d1f33e8b441b1418f66beb2 lq

This Concept works well in China, Singapore, S Korea, Taiwan – because eventually – since the Governing Class do their best for a Strong and Prosperous Country – The Country always prospers and the People always prosper.

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main qimg 6578e0ca65ae5cf6f1b4a5f1ec499b90 lq

Now introduce Western Concept of Democracy into these countries – create Multi Parties and you will split the unity and create new concepts like division by categories like language or race, appeasement etc


So it is NOT TRUE that 98% of the Chinese are satisfied with their Government

The Fact is – The Governing Class do their best for a Stronger and Prosperous China and if the People are not satisfied – They can go to hell!!!


I am 100% Confident that had we abolished Elections in 1975 and given Mrs Gandhi full control of India – We would have been far, far ahead than we are because

(a) No Appeasement would have been necessary for Votes

(b) No Slew of Welfare measures that bankrupted our Nation

(c) No Reservations because no more Vote Banks

(d) Meritocracy would have been the news of the Day


So to conclude – Democracy is the best form of Government but only when the People are WORTHY enough and in 80% countries today , less than 10%-30% of the population are actually worthy enough

So the Greatest Hope for India…

…is to have a Man or Woman who can become a Deng or a Lee Kuan Yew. And thus take us forward as an Autocracy where the Rabble can be put in their place.

This would be to maximize efficiency and Democracy and Elections become a Distant Dream for at least half a century (Not Modi …. Certainly Not Modi or any of the present BJP or Congress or AAP leaders)

Does Kozyrev Mirror Mechanize Ascension?

VIDEO: Mexico Military Massing Near U.S. Border

Video has come in to the Hal Turner Radio Show which shows a very significant number of Mexican military troops and armed vehicles massing just south of the US Border in the California area, LAST NIGHT.

No word from anyone as to why.

No word from sources in US Gov if this is related to Drug Cartels or some other domestic Mexican law enforcement action . . . or if this a military operation instead of law enforcement.

Here is the video that was sent in:

Clearly this came from Social Media and the caption in Spanish translates to “Waiting for the war cry”

But . . . . war with whom?

Given the vast movement of US military equipment, personnel and aircraft yesterday, one wonders what’s really in preparation.

As is well known, the US has severely depleted our Strategic Petroleum Reserve to less than HALF its capacity.   We have also depleted our artillery and missile inventories, giving all away for free to Ukraine.

Over 100,000 US military troops are now out of the country on NATO’s eastern flank staring at Russia.

Hundreds of tanks and armored personnel carriers are also gone, out of our country, given away to Ukraine or assigned to NATO over in Europe.

What is someone who knows all this, has decided that maybe NOW might be a good time to try to invade . . . . us?

Time Mirrors: Experiments at the North Pole

UPDATED 10:33 AM EDT — US – China Talks, Fail

“US-China relations are at their lowest point, ever” according to Chinese Foreign Minister Qin Gang.

He noted that such a situation is not in the interests of the United States or the interests of China.

It remains an open question who will have to yield in this fight.

 Outcome 

In China, talks were held between Secretary of State Anthony Blinken and the head of the Chinese diplomatic mission of the PRC, Qin Gang.

Warning signs that this would be a nasty meeting began from the outset as Secretary Blinken arrived in China.   When his plane landed, there was no red carpet, no flags, no big delegation.  In fact, there were no high-ranking Chinese officials to greet him, just staff flunkies.

The aggravated contradictions between the two powers have long asked for dialogue, and now it has taken place.

The list of controversies is long. From the Ukrainian conflict to the American intervention in Taiwan and the state of human rights in China.

The American side did not reach an agreement on any of the points of the meeting. Beijing refused even the most insignificant requests. For example, Washington was denied a curb on the production and export of fentanyl precursors.

As a result of the negotiations, neither side was willing to give up their positions.  Nothing was accomplished.

UPDATE 10:33 AM EDT —

This just in . . . Blinken’s trip to Beijing was such an abject FAILURE, China even refused to set up crisis military-to-military communications with the U.S..

This was a significant goal of his visit because China’s military has **NOT** taken any phone calls, video conferences, or even answered the Hotline with the US military, for MONTHS!

President of Russia Publicly Announces Conditions where Russia WILL BOMB NATO Bases

Russian President Vladimir Putin put the West on notice yesterday during his speech at the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF).

President Putin made clear he knows the West is planning on supplying fighter jets to Ukraine, and that the US insists the F-16’s be nuclear capable.

He pointed out that those jets, especially U.S. F-16’s, require very large and complicated maintenance, which cannot now be done in Ukraine without fear of being hit with Russian missiles. Thus it would be necessary for the planes to use bases that are presently safe.

Therefore, he said, if those fighter jets takeoff from NATO bases outside Ukraine, and enter Ukraine for battle, Russia will not be able to know if those planes are armed with Tactical nuclear bombs and will have to assume THEY ARE.

Under such circumstances, Russia will have no choice but to hit those NATO Bases, and may have to do so with Tactical nuclear weapons.

Below, video from the SPIEF where Putin talks about this.  The video has English sub-titles but is only a small portion of what Putin said.  You get the jist of it:

Southern Biscuits and Gravy

216391 easy sausage gravy and biscuits TTV78 3x2 1 c21e8cfb2c524a7b882bd9c5300dadd3
216391 easy sausage gravy and biscuits TTV78 3×2 1 c21e8cfb2c524a7b882bd9c5300dadd3

Ingredients

  • 1/2 pound bulk pork breakfast sausage
  • 2 tablespoons chopped yellow onions
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups hot milk
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 1 batch Southern Biscuits

Instructions

  1. Heat frying pan and fry the sausage and onion until the sausage is brown and the onion clear.
  2. Drain off all grease except for 2 tablespoons.
  3. Stir in the flour and cook for just a minute.
  4. Add the hot milk. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens and then season with salt and pepper.
  5. Serve over warm opened biscuits.

.

A battle between the American State Department and the Pentagon

I  watched the American spokesman statement. The purpose of the Blinken trip to China was to “strengthen America’s ability to out-compete China”. Further he stated, that there were three key points that Blinkedin will tell China.

[1] To establish communication channels that are “open and empowered”.

[2] Communicate clearly and candidly on a range of issues regarding American displeasure in how China conducts its domestic matters.

[3] Will investigate potential area of cooperation on trans-national issues, but ONLY when it is in Americas interest.

Finally, he does not expect any “break throughs” on this trip.

And of course, we all know what happened next. China reamed him up and down and all around though out, and when he reported the news to Biden, that son-of-a-bitch complained in a long diatribe in front of his donor class.

Sigh.


Next…

Ah yes

Of course

The Debt ceiling was raised recently to a whopping $ 33 Trillion right?

Obviously the West will deflect and bury the serious dire straits of their economies and pending recession to China

That’s what they always do

Whenever they have trouble at home, they deflect and jump to a foreign country that may be much much better off

Is China’s economy declining?

No

China’s economy shows resilience

Don’t ask me

Ask the 77 Countries who now have over 15% of their Trade share in Yuan since 1/1/2022

China’s economy is Sluggish

The reason is simple

Its two biggest earners have taken a hit

Exports have taken a hit due to Sanctions by US and mainly due to weakening global demand due to recession/inflation in EU and US

Many Producers aren’t sure how much to manufacture now because of their worry about exports and being saddled with excess inventory

The alternative domestic consumption to replace potential loss of export share will take time and confidence by the producers and consumers

Maybe 3 years or so

Second is Real Estate

China’s own Government have dynamically and drastically modified real estate lending causing a plunge in real estate markets

So it’s like a Cricket team with two big stars in bad form


The fact that any other country would have buried these facts stands out

China is dealing with them on a day to day basis

Promoting Domestic spending, reducing rates to rise liquidity and slowly ensure the export pain is mitigated by local demand

China is modifying it’s real estate

It’s bringing a real estate sector once controlled by 6% population now to a 60% population using economies of scale

Profiting $ 1 Million per flat through speculation to be replaced by Profiting $ 50,000 a flat for 20 flats by actual sales and market demand

It takes time for this 60% population to realize that the sector is good for them

Like say tomorrow 50% Indians investing in shares from 4.1% today


China has very temporary problems

It’s situation is changing and its adapting and that is causing blips


Now USA and the West on the other hand are in deep trouble

They have in print nearly $ 15.3 Trillion equivalent of currency circulating in Pounds, Euros and Dollars

They have to rise rates repeatedly to push the currency into institutions and prevent them from staying in the global economy and plunging in value and causing more Inflation

It’s a ticking time bomb

And unlike China, the West neither has the populace to absorb the hit nor the resources like Russia

The end result will be 1929 type depression unless the large shock detonates through a series of smaller shocks which will weaken the US significantly but help it survive and bounce back , which is what China is waiting for (Why else is China not retaliating to all the US Coercion? Because it knows time is on its side)

It’s 100 times more serious

Hence why the West is deflecting on to China

I was in a Video Conference yesterday. There was this slick controller from Cisco. I picked it up and turned it around to see the sticker that said: “Made in China”.

We have all heard the phrase. So much so that it has become a cultural meme, like this creative advertisement.

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main qimg e6ace77c2f1b6abb8c1d4434b4840b95 lq

Every machine, and I mean it in the broad sense of the word, people use, almost certainly, has components made by the most populous nation of the world.

We are at a stage where manufacturing is synonymous with China. China’s total exports in 2017 were more than the GDP of India, at ~$2.26 trillion.

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US is close with $1.5 trillion, but there is the catch.

US exports are primarily expensive stuff like airplanes, gems, assembled cell phones etc. But China makes the “cheaper” things — the components of your phones, the clothes you buy, the filaments in your bulbs, the shoes you are wearing right now.

More than a decade ago, a US family tried to rid themselves of all things “made in China”

. Here are some excerpts from their experience.

When our son, then 4, needed new shoes it took me two weeks of frantic mall trips and phone calls across the country before I located Italian-made sneakers. (They cost almost $70, an obscene amount, and I bought him just that one pair of shoes all year to compensate for my excess.)

We boiled water for coffee every morning after our drip machine broke and the only affordable replacements we could find were made in China. Kevin stole —he likes to say borrowed—sunglasses from the lost-and-found at our kids’ preschool when he needed new ones and the only ones that fit our budget were made in China. We were barred from the market for humane mousetraps (I made my own), birthday candles (we used votive candles on our cakes instead) and the monster trucks and light sabers that our son dreamed of all year.

As December approached, we made lousy homemade Christmas presents, spent too much on toys from Germany and waited for the year, and our boycott, to fade into history.

And Chinese manufacturing has become even more pervasive and ingrained in the last ten years. Good luck with your attempt!

First of all, Taiwan is NOT a country. Neither the United Nations nor the United States recognize Taiwan as an independent state. Moreover, Taiwan’s own constitution stipulates that the mainland and Taiwan are one country.

The entire world adheres to the One China principle.

Second, no country is willing to give up any piece of its territory. Would the USA give up Hawaii or Texas? Would France give up Corsica?

Third, Taiwan is a remnant of China’s century of humiliation when the great powers of the time descended on China like vultures and carved her up like a turkey. It’s a painful reminder and a point of national pride.

Fourth, China and Taiwan can coexist. They’ve coexisted peacefully for decades now. They have massive trade with each other.

China seeks peaceful reunification, and she is very patient. But the United States is determined to stir up shit in Taiwan. Just leave them alone!

Fifth, since Taiwan is China’s domestic matter, it is absolutely none of our f*cking business. Why are we sticking our nose into it?

Do we want to start a war with China over this matter?

Are you f*cking insane?

Hubris.

“My cup runneth over with hubris”, rather than “In God We Trust”.

Who in his right mind can praise America for being well led, when the President is 80 and belongs in a nursing home, with the primary competition 76 belonging in jail?

And yet those are the candidates two ailing parties who have swapped musical chairs for 250 years throw up, with NO ALTERNATIVES in sight.

Just like guns and drugs, even abortion.

Live with it, the American will say, because the Constitution is sacred.

I say God bless America.

America has visibly declined or regressed this century. Even life expectancy has dipped below third world China, courtesy of the horrendous response to covid for the country rated No. 1 for pandemic readiness by Johns Hopkins in 2019. The debt pile is growing too fast, struggling under the weight of living beyond means.

Barring a paradigm shift in domestic politics, terminal decline is but a matter of time. I will pay attention to the quality of life of the bottom 50 percent who share 2 percent of the wealth. Too miserable and the have-nots will stoke tensions and accelerate the process.

I have not heard much beyond doubling down on the current playbook.

And that is a road to ruin.

The question is one of when, rather than if.

Under 150 years of British rule, Hong Kong wasn’t democratic. Why would we expect that to change?

The United States is as ready as it ever will be.

It has an enormous military budget, and bases everywhere. It’s got top of the line fighters, vessels and state-of-the-art equipment. In fact, if anything, I think that it is “over kill”. But that’s just my personal opinion.

The United States military is world-class in force projection, and they will glad-fully take the war to the shores of China and beyond. With the handful of proxy nations acting as “cannon fodder”, the United States would just sit back and watch the Australians and Japanese die in droves. Let them all be barbecued alive. As long as not one American is harmed.

So the United States force doctrine is one where the disposable peoples of Australia, Korea and Japan (with the Philippines) would be sacrificed first.

There is no question that the United States would choose Sydney, and Perth to become major battlefields. And with the rubbleing of Osaka, Tokyo, and Manila, the American military would wait out the carnage comfortably from afar in safe bunkers, Ukraine style.

Eventually, the Chinese force would peter out to an “approachable” level.

At that moment, the United States would pounce for a double “one two” blow that would destroy Chinese cities, and an invasion force in strength would seize the nation. Oh, the fighting might take a decade, but eventually the United States would win, and China would be partitioned into pre-determined bite-sized chunks for organized looting and seizure.

(Some interesting articles on this particular subject. It’s already been divided up! Though, I would advise “don’t count your chickens until the eggs hatch”.)

Anyways, there one teeny-tiny issue.

The only issue is would China really use it’s mass-casualty weapons. That’s of course, the Dong Feng, and the other novel and unique enhanced radiation and wave technologies. You know those massive enhanced radiation city-busters. Those hyper-velocity AI controlled stealth delivery systems, and the invisibility cloaking technologies.

But I am told it doesn’t matter.

As many in the “West” are very confident that “China would never…”.

So, if you (the reader) are part of this clutch, then by all means rest assured that the United States can destroy China, and it couldn’t do anything. The logic is simple. Simply because China has invested such a HUGE portion of it’s military to weapons of MASS DESTRUCTION. Leaving only a fraction of it’s military for conventional warfare. If China decides never to use the nuclear systems, then China would be handicapped to reliance on old-fashioned conventional systems.

So the United States would rip China a new behind.

But…

But…

But…

But, were China to be attacked, I am of the belief that China would use every weapon at it’s disposal. I mean, after all, why devote such a large proportion of your defensive equipment to nuclear and novel systems if you have no plans to ever use them? I figure that even if you have a Bentley in your garage, you do go and take it out for a spin from time to time. Even if that is the last thing that you do before you die.

Thus, the first cities to experience nuclear destruction would be American. I recon complete destruction of the top 35 cities.

This would really throw a monkey-wrench into the plans listed above.

The American “leadership” would be pissed and they (well the ones still alive and not wearing diapers) would order a MAD response. And the nukes would start a flying.

Correct me, if you disagree, but when the dust settles, I don’t think the world would be the same. You might think differently, but I think that nothing will ruin your day faster than global thermonuclear war.

Sigh.

So who ever asked this question, please stop asking about the end of the world. It’s not a pretty image. Go play with your army men elsewhere. War is not a game. It’s real, and very horrible. I strongly advise that it be avoided at all costs.

No one is going to win a US-China war.

For over 700 years, the Japanese have been using a special method called Daisugi to grow trees without cutting them down.

It started in the 14th century and involves planting trees for the future and then pruning them like large bonsai trees. By doing this to cedar trees, they can get high-quality wood that’s straight, smooth, and perfect for building.

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main qimg d8ea73c62c889f33676c0305d752f58d lq

With Daisugi, instead of chopping down the trees, they carefully prune them so they can keep growing and producing wood. This way, they can sustainably use the wood while also making sure the trees stay healthy and continue to live for a long time. Daisugi shows how people and nature can work together, using resources wisely while protecting the environment.

Not exactly arrogance, if arrogance, it was a well deserved arrogance, as US was supreme in economy, diplomacy and military as a superpower liberator. US actually saved the world with great sacrifices.

It’d have succeeded except the miscalculation on China entrance into the war, that changed the result. That was arrogance to underestimated the Chinese determination and ragtag poorly equipped military, which was a total surprise to everybody.

It is human nature that it is very difficult for warriors to stop fighting, Alexander the Great just couldn’t stop, Napoleon couldn’t stop, Hitler and Japanese couldn’t stop and US couldn’t-can’t stop.

Normal little people like us always wondered what if these superpowers just stopped at some points, enough is enough, I have enough, let me stop and build on my successes and conquered empires, let me treat my subjects well but none could. But warriors can’t stop, they must keep on going until the empires were destroyed by over expansions.

For over seven decades, Japan has been subject to ongoing occupation by the United States, maintaining a presence through a network of over 90 military bases and an extensive arsenal of more than 65,000 military assets. Similarly, Taiwan is under the control of local collaborators aligned with the United States, who wield authority over both the island’s military and political processes, contrary to the One-China policy. In both regions, the United States not only dictates the sale and deployment of weaponry but also determines the conditions for their use, the required troop numbers, and the deployment locations, while providing comprehensive training.

Given the high level of military integration and influence, publicly disclosing real-time shared military information would only intensify local concerns regarding the potential loss of lives and livelihoods after being dragged into a war initiated by the United States, especially in light of recent devastating events in Ukraine as reported by the media.

Gravitas: Japan says no to NATO membership

QUAD is US, G7 is US, AUKUS is US, NATO is US. Whatever alphabets they added or changed, it is just US.

UK, Australia, Japan, India, France, Italy or whatever don’t matter at all to China, there are like the group of thugs accompanying the main bad guy in kungfu movies, they take turn to be punched and kicked by the kungfu master, and the first to run away or fake death. Faking death in the safest way to survive. They rarely charge forward all at the same time.

It is just US, that’s a handful all by itself.

Whatever your opinion may be about this man, Dan Bilzerian, he said something very true in an interview, and I would like many people to reflect on it.

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main qimg 96f8c4d0ae8b7e932568e14f8d5cd9a7 lq

In the Joe Rogan Podcast (the most famous and most listened-to podcast in the world), Rogan asked him the same question:

Joe: Hey Dan, for the people who are listening to us, and most of them won’t even make a quarter of the money you’ve made, do you think money brings happiness?

Dan Bilzerian: Money, Joe, brings satisfaction. Money can undoubtedly give you a lot of satisfaction, but never complete happiness.

When I go to a fancy restaurant, when I drive a brand new car, when I party at the best clubs, for me, that’s already normal.

But the day I can’t afford to eat at a restaurant of the same quality, or drive the latest car, or go partying, how do you think I’ll feel?

In my case, I raised the ‘satisfaction bar’ so high that I have to maintain this lifestyle forever because if I don’t, I get depressed.

Happiness, even if it sounds cliché, cheesy, or however you want to call it, comes from within, from your person. It doesn’t come from material things. Material things give you ‘satisfaction,’ but they will never give you happiness.

There’s always someone who says something like:

‘Money doesn’t bring happiness, but I’d rather cry in a Lamborghini.’

Now, let me ask:

Wouldn’t you rather smile from ear to ear in a Kia?

First Impressions of China in 2023 🇨🇳 CAN’T Believe What I Saw

Washington has sent Jake Sullivan to New Delhi with an array of tempting offers to bring the country in line with the west

By Joydeep Sen Gupta, Asia Editor

US President Joe Biden’s administration is working overtime to give top billing to Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s official state visit to the US from June 21 to 24 in a key election campaign year. The visit will be Modi’s sixth to the US since he assumed office in 2014.

Biden wants to present Modi’s upcoming trip as being bigger than the Indian premier’s Manhattan moment

in 2014 when he was hosted by Barack Obama, and Howdy, Modi!

in 2019 during the Trump administration.

To that end Biden sent his trusted aide, US National Security Advisor (NSA) Jake Sullivan, to New Delhi on a two-day trip on Tuesday, to lay the groundwork for the high-profile event, and build upon last week’s visit

to India by US Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin.

Prominent Indian geopolitical commentator, C Raja Mohan, has suggested

that Sullivan’s visit may pave the way for Modi’s Deng Xiaoping moment in leveraging India’s unique situation into significant gains for the country. However, the current global churn is many times removed from the visionary Chinese leader’s time in office last century, and the US is more transparent in its efforts to create a unipolar world order.

Sullivan’s agenda

Economic cooperation is at the heart of the Sullivan’s India trip. The top US security official held talks with Modi, his Indian counterpart, Ajit Doval

, and minister for external affairs, Dr Subramanyam Jaishankar

, on a range of issues that go beyond the optics of bilateral diplomacy. Doval and Sullivan also attended the second Track 1.5 dialogue on the Critical and Emerging Technologies (iCET) initiative, which was organized by the Confederation of Indian Industry (CII).

They unveiled an ambitious roadmap for Indo-US collaboration in seven specific hi-technology areas, including semiconductors, next-generation telecommunications, artificial intelligence and defense.

Sullivan said the iCET is about people-to-people relationships, building skills, trust and confidence between the societies and governments of the two countries. He said it is also a way to deepen defense cooperation that will help both the countries strategically and economically.

Meanwhile, Modi’s upcoming US visit has been heralded as a new era of “future ties” amid a “robust outcome document” that is in the works. However, the underlying motive is the desperate US desire to gain access to one of the biggest markets in the world following its deteriorating

trade and diplomatic ties with the world’s second biggest economy – China.

Sullivan is playing the role of a traveling salesman, hawking US interests in key global capitals much like before his elevation

to the NSA.

On this trip, he pulled out all stops to impress upon the Modi government the ease of doing business with the Biden administration, which is all but a lame duck, ahead of a key election to be held later this year.

Sullivan’s talks centered on opening a $2.7 billion semiconductor chip-making facility in India by Micron Technology, which is headquartered in Boise, Idaho and sharing technical know-how regarding quantum computing technology. India imports about 80% of its semiconductors.

New Delhi is believed to be wooing Intel Corporation to set up shop in the country following fears of a disruption in supply chains in light of escalating tensions between China and Taiwan.

Significantly, the pièce de resistance is Sullivan’s last-ditch bid to jointly manufacture US aircraft engines for Indian defense forces by General Electric (GE) in partnership with state-run Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL). Will the transfer of technology (ToT) be a fillip to Modi’s ambitious “Make in India”

initiative? ToT is a key aspect in Indo-US bilateral relationship, where past misadventures such as the 2008 civil nuclear agreement between the two nations stick out like a sore thumb. The US is dragging its feet over ToT unlike Russia, which has been

an all-weather ally to India.

Biden has unpacked the top brass in his administration ahead of Modi’s visit. China – the elephant in India’s room – also figured prominently during Sullivan’s trip because he is being accompanied by US Indo-Pacific Coordinator at the National Security Council Kurt Campbell.

Washington has been raising the China alarm with New Delhi and accuses Beijing of flexing its military muscle over Taiwan and the South China Sea while underscoring India’s primacy in the elite grouping of the Quad

.

Truth be told, since its revival

in 2017, the grouping largely remains a non-starter as questions abound whether it is hitting the right notes to keep a belligerent China at bay.

The US is seemingly ratcheting up further bilateral tensions between the two most populous nations and nuclear-powered neighbors

as a means to insert itself as part of India’s solutions to security.

How does the US hypocrisy stand exposed?

Public memory, as the cliché goes, is short indeed. In 2005, PM Modi was denied

a US visa because of his alleged role

in the Gujarat pogrom against minority Muslims in the western Indian state in 2002, when he was the Chief Minister.

The US changed its tune in 2014 after Modi’s right-wing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) enjoyed a landslide win against the incumbent Congress-led opposition alliance.

US State Department spokeswoman Jen Psaki had said Modi would receive a visa to the country once he took office and formed a government. And an AI visa, which is the eligibility norm for all heads of state, was made available to him. Washington then started making overtures towards him in a true bipartisan manner with Obama, Trump, and now Biden have been rolling out the red carpet for him as they seek to tap India’s growing middle class, whose strength is more than the total US population at last count.

But such foreign policy misadventures

have been the hallmark of the US in the name of championing democracy in all corners of the globe for which the UK fell

for hook, line and sinker.

With such checkered records and doublespeak, should the Modi government be enamored by Sullivan’s charm offensive?

The US seldom delivers what it promises, if its deeply flawed foreign policy is a marker of Washington’s overreach

.

Is the Biden administration on the same page?

There is a lack of clarity regarding whether the Biden administration’s various arms share Sullivan’s enthusiasm about Modi and India. Historically, the US State Department has been hostile towards New Delhi about ramping up bilateral engagement in the field of defense and hi-tech.

However, the jury is still out whether Sullivan, aided and abetted by the Pentagon, can ensure joint manufacturing of GE’s F-414 engine in India, which if Washington manages to pull off, will go down in the annals of history. At the same time, it will open a new front in the Arab world in the Middle East, where the US has been arming

them to the teeth in the name of twin threats from Iran and Israel. President Biden’s largesse may help India’s state-run Defense Research and Development Organization (DRDO) to indigenously develop the Tejas Mark II fighter aircraft for the Indian Air Force. US defense majors are also looking for an opening to manufacture other hi-tech weapons including loiter bombs, air-to-air missiles and long-range guided bombs amid stalled arms supplies from Russia owing to fear

of disruption in payment mechanisms over US-led Western sanctions on the ongoing special military operations in Ukraine. Sullivan aims to reboot several existing mechanisms such as upping the ante in sectors such as telecommunications, rare earth metals mining and space. Both NSAs discussed this during a meeting on Critical and Emerging Technologies (iCET) in Washington on January 31.

The mechanism received a boost during the first India-US Strategic Trade Dialogue meeting

in Washington on June 4 and 5.

US commerce secretary Gina Raimondo’s visit to New Delhi in March was a precursor to this high-level engagement that set the stage for Sullivan’s trip to iron out the rough edges in the bilateral ties.

Is Sullivan the ace of spades for Biden?

The New York Times stated

in 2021 that Sullivan, who has been equated with Henry Kissinger, has long been a “figure of fascination, somewhere between sympathy and schadenfreude.” He has been Biden’s go-to man for all reasons and seasons. He held

crucial talks with key Chinese officials and has a similar historic opportunity to make Modi seem to be a global leader, whose life has come full circle since Washington dubbed him a pariah. And time is of the essence as Biden’s fate is likely to be decided in a few months, even though Modi’s hold on power appears to be as firm as ever.

Sullivan had an inkling about Russia’s special military operations in Ukraine a couple of months before the conflict started in February of 2022. He tried to shape global opinion against Russia, including pushing through the sanctions. Has he managed to strengthen NATO, including Finland’s membership, is an open-ended question?

His speech

at the Brookings Institution in April laid bare the growing US challenges amid a new pivot known as the ‘new Washington Consensus’, a euphemism for geo-economics. How much has he achieved will be judged by posterity.

Sullivan has been single-mindedly pushing for a technological alliance with “trusted partners” such as India to stymie China’s dominance.

The Indo-Pacific maritime is his other pet project that has grabbed the headlines, even though he is not a foreign policy hawk. He seeks to be on an even keel with China, especially his recent engagement with Foreign Minister, Wang Yi.

India, according to Sullivan, connects all these dots, despite New Delhi’s deep historic ties with Moscow. But can the US play a “long game” since the presidential election may change the foreign policy outreach in the next few months.

Biden’s last hurrah?

According to a report

in The Washington Post, the US seeks to expand the developing world’s influence (read India) at the United Nations (UN). This hurriedly-thought through bid appears to empower the UN Security Council (UNSC) because of the latter’s ineffectiveness as a global body to stop conflicts such as the ongoing military standoff in Ukraine. This mechanism, which has long been in the works, is also Washington’s bid to push through a unipolar world narrative and keep Russia and China out of the frame. Wooing India helps because it is part of the strongest anti-US bloc in BRICS, where Brazil and South Africa bring up the rear

, to create an alternative world order.

Linda Thomas-Greenfield, President Biden’s envoy to the UN, is reportedly consulting with diplomats from the organization’s 193 member states to gather feedback about a potential expansion of the UNSC ahead of world leaders’ annual gathering in New York in September.

But Washington is unlikely to create a consensus in a fractured world, where the US is seen

as a perennial big bully. Besides, it’s unclear which countries in the Global South and from Africa and South America are likely to make the cut.

For instance, any nation such as Venezuela, Cuba, Egypt and Morocco will not be welcome to join the exclusive club because of their close ties with Russia and by extension are considered as rogue states by the US.

The US is unlikely to have its way because India’s seat at the global high table will be opposed tooth and nail by Pakistan.

A tricky road for Modi

Modi, who is known to have an elephant’s memory, may do well not to bite the US bullet ahead of his re-election next year, where he appears to be in the driver’s seat, despite a few recent domestic setbacks.

As for Biden, it could be a classic case of too little, too late to woo American voters with last-minute optics. The maxim “It’s the economy stupid

” could seal his fate for a second-term in the White House. His historically low approval ratings are an indictment for lording over an economy that’s teetering on the brink, despite his lofty pronouncements of a rosy outlook.

When I young in Taiwan, all students must watch a one hour long documentary, Roar of China 中國的怒吼, documentary of all the atrocities of Japanese killing and bombing. Once a year, every year for many years. Attendance was mandatory for all, we had to write essay on the Japanese atrocities. That built a deep hatred towards Japan and Japanese. All Japanese movies and books were banned.

Occasional reports of Taiwan people love Japan and Japanese are wrong. As decades passed, that hatred gradually faded away to lesser degree, but among older Taiwan people, hatred of Japan is constant and in daily conversations.

I no longer hate Japan or Japanese, but I did not forget.

The Korean war.

In the early 1950’s, the United States (fresh from fighting World War II), along with its allies invaded Korea. The stated reasons were “democracy”, “freedom” and “fighting Communism”. Of course. The real reason was to attack and seize China while it was still weak. Then, from that captured territory, place military bases on the Russian Southern flank for an eventual World War 3.

Well, the Korean war was a fiasco. The United States lost bigly.

In fact, the losses were so very horrific, that the retreat became a rout. And the piles of equipment and stockpiles in warehouses had to be bombed remotely, by the sea and the air, to prevent capture. (This is by definition a rout. Remote demolitions of abandoned material is a characteristic of a rout.)

General Douglas MacArthur was so upset and defeated that he demanded that President Truman start using nuclear weapons on China, but Truman refused.

Instead President Truman initiated a multi-decade long campaign of carpet bombing China with bio-weapons. (Which didn’t do much to China, except make it very VERY resilient to bio-weapon attacks.)

This kind of stealth; passive-aggressive, attacking continued for decades. Well into the 1970s.

So when the 1960s rolled around, the United States was busy fighting on China’s Southern borders; Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. All trying to obtain a “toe hold” there. But Chinese-backed Vietnamese forces were putting up a good fight.

You must realize that at that time, with a hostile and unstable SE Asia, and a very VERY pissed off China, the United States was in no way ready to take on China. Because over the decades of covert hostilities, the Chinese grew stronger, and angrier with each passing month.

So in the 1960s and into the 1970s, the United States did not attack China overtly. It’s not that the United States did not want to attack China. It is just that it simply could not. China was a very formidable fighting force, and the anticipated American (and allied) losses would have been enormous.

It means that the Chinese are not fools. The United States sanctioned the Chinese defense chief, and if they would meet, that would be in violation of the sanctions.

Who knows what other “dirty tricks” the Biden administration has “up its sleeve”?

But also, and most importantly, nothing productive would come out of the meeting. The United States has proven itself to be two-faced, fork-tongued, lying, scheming, manipulating bastards that have only one goal which is to belittle, and ultimately destroy China.

Different people have different reasons.

I came to China because the Chinese government agreed to support my research and give me opportunity to build a team to pursue solutions for health problems with genomics. I tried again and again through the grant process and VC channels in the US. For grants, if you weren’t part of the group that gets most of the grant money or one of their proteges (“the club”), you weren’t getting a grant. And, if you weren’t 20 something with no experience but full of wild ideas VC funds weren’t interested, they are all looking for the next Zuckerberg or Gates. They didn’t care about sound business plans.

So, I came to China where I was first able to almost immediately raise money from VCs and then after a year the Chinese government agreed to support me, my team and my projects.

China is the land of opportunity for talented scientists. They are putting a lot of money into developing a broad group of technologies of which biotech is one. A key focus of the education system is STEM graduates. So, for me, China was the obvious choice.

Note: I could’ve gotten a job in the US and been paid a very good wage, although I am doing well, especially by Chinese standards, I would’ve made more in the US. But, here I am supported to pursue my passion. And, it is a very good opportunity to experience the culture and the people.

The largest group of American expats here in China are teachers though. In China, teaching is a very well respected profession and the teachers are well compensated with lots of perks. They came here, some for the experience, most for the increased wages and respect that they found they lacked in the US.

Fried Okra with Tomatoes and Onions

fried okra tomatoes
fried okra tomatoes

Ingredients

  • 2 slices bacon
  • 1 pound sliced okra
  • 1/2 onion, chopped
  • 10 cherry tomatoes, halved
  • Kosher salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions

  1. Fry bacon crisp. Remove from skillet and drain.
  2. Fry okra in bacon drippings.
  3. Add onion. Cook until tender.
  4. Add tomatoes; stir well.
  5. Add bacon and salt and pepper. Cover and cook over medium heat for 15 minutes.

In 1989 two hikers who got lost while climbing Mount Asahidake in Daisetsuzan National Park were found when a helicopter saw the distress sign written on the side of the mountain and rescued them.

2023 06 18 11 25
2023 06 18 11 25

Great for the two hikers and lucky because this is where the story gets strange. The police in the area were sure the hikers had made the SOS sign that was made by stacking large birch trees on top of each other, the sign was quiet large. When the police questioned the two hikers about their ordeal they swore they knew nothing about the sign. It was just pure luck on their part.

This got the investigators worried because if they didn’t make the signal, who did? This led the police back to the area with a search team to find another potential missing person. After a few hours of searching the area the police discovered human bones with bite marks and fractures from before they died. This is where the story goes from strange to bizarre.

As they continued their search they came across a hole big enough to fit a human. In the hole they found a human skull, four cassette tapes, a tape recorder, some amulets, a backpack, tripod, some men’s shoes, two cameras, a notebook and a drivers licence belonging to Kenji Iwamura, a 25-year-old male office worker.

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main qimg 471854b168cc965baea468061a207987

Photo of Kenji Iwamura

On one of the tapes was the voice of a man screaming for two and a half minutes. A translation of the man shouting on the recording is as follows:

SOS, help me, I can’t move on the cliff, SOS, help me.
The place is where I first met the helicopter. The sasa [a type of bamboo plant] is deep and you can’t go up. Lift me up from here. The police were sure the bones belonged to the guy on the drivers licence but went sent for testing they came back as belonging to a female between the ages 20–30.

The rest of the tapes included music from the anime TV shows, Macross and Magical Princess Minky Momo In addition, a cut out of artwork of “Magical Princess Minky Momo” was used as a case for the cassette tape. This strange disappearance had the police perplexed.

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main qimg 183458af851ac03c54e9700a6aa7630f

The wooden letters of the SOS sign were made by stacking large fallen birch trees, and it was estimated that it took about two days and considerable effort to create such a giant sign. It was speculated that the sign was made by the missing person that the skeleton belonged to, but in the autopsy of the skeleton that was found, who investigators believed was Iwamura, the body was described as thin and weak and that it would have been impossible for him to make the sign on his own.

No axe that would have been used to cut the trees down to make the sign has been found. There is also no record or report of a missing woman that could be connected to Iwamura.

I’m in my 40s, if you’re still in your 20s and 30s read this:

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main qimg 6b2e994b1ef90290be98e061c9d22742

1. Your 3 most important life choices are:
I) Your spouse
II) Your career
III) Where you’ll live
Therefore, do not rush these decisions. Take your time and think.

2. To get what you want, you have to deserve what you want.
To attract the right people, be the right person.
The world isn’t crazy enough to reward a bunch of undeserving people (Charlie Munger).

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main qimg 7d8277628de494bb72204670d5bea0e8

3. Stop listening to what people say and watch what they do.
Words lie, and actions reveal the truth.
It is, therefore, important to listen and keep your eyes wide open.

4. The cowards never started and the weak died along the way.
There’s wisdom in age.

Study things and people who have been around for a long time in:
• Art
• Nature
• Architecture
• Classic books
• Classic movies

main qimg fdbdc568c2a340a4379c85abb4b7a0bb
main qimg fdbdc568c2a340a4379c85abb4b7a0bb

5. Take care of your health.
Have a healthy body:
• Take 10k steps a day
• Be intentional and regular about exercising
• Adopt a high-protein diet
• Take only nutrient-dense food
• Drink 2-3 liters of water daily
• Avoid processed sugar and alcohol

In the long run, it is inevitable that you will have;
• Clear Skin
• A Clear mind
• High energy

main qimg 8f9e21d50db308198358e93c4d43be6c
main qimg 8f9e21d50db308198358e93c4d43be6c

Your mind is your greatest asset.
So walk, write, think, stretch, be in solitude, meditate, and spend time in nature.
Avoid;
• News
• Politics
• Toxic relationships
Stop reacting to everything and instead, be proactive.

6. Attitude and mindset are extremely important.

Poor mentality traits:
• Waiting for motivation to start
• Quitting when the motivation fades
• Doing only what you think is your best

Rich mentality traits:
• Getting motivation after starting
• Showing up every day (no matter what)
• Doing what it takes
So, which one would you choose?

7. It’s not the strongest or smartest who survive, it’s the ones who are most adaptable to the changing environment.
Consistency beats intensity and the compound effect is one of the secrets to success.

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main qimg 0a4369f7a3d2e73080bebf3a819dfe91

8. Don’t let people push you around, and stand up for the weak.
Fight back against anyone who pushes your boundaries.
Most people will not bother you if they know you’ll retaliate.

main qimg 8c12d70bb10b1013a3abb5704bfc44d6
main qimg 8c12d70bb10b1013a3abb5704bfc44d6

9. Be a mad Scientist.
Life is one big experiment.
So whenever you feel stuck, adapt and try something new.
There are no failures, only experiments that go too long.
And never learn without taking action.

main qimg 6e9a849e1fdb844b08b6d997a194602b
main qimg 6e9a849e1fdb844b08b6d997a194602b

10. Never play the victim.
Life will test you. It’ll test everyone. So you’re not special.
Learned helplessness is a trap.
Face your problems head-on to build character and resilience.
Instead of thinking about why the problem is happening to you, flip the script and acknowledge that it has already been done and it’s too late to undo it. From there you’ll be aware of the fact that the best thing you can do is move forward.

11. Practice Problem-Solving.
The bigger your problems, the bigger your opportunity.
Be thankful for your problems. God only gives you what you can handle.

12. Take responsibility for everything.
Blaming people or circumstances gives them power over you. Only blame yourself.

13. Find mentors.
Find mentors that are years ahead of you.
Absorb everything they teach you.
Learn from their failures so you don’t have to learn the hard way.
If you can’t find a mentor, read books.

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main qimg 7273951770ad4296e15d01612788ee6e

 

14. You will be happiest when building:
• Your mind
• Your body
• Your business
• Your family

Learn these skills and never worry about money:
• Selling
• Marketing
• Negotiation
• Copy Trading
• Copywriting
• Critical Thinking
• Creative Creation
• Emotional Intelligence
• Communication

15. Do what is difficult when it is easy.
You’re young, therefore:
• It’s easy to stay fit
• It’s easy to experiment and fail
• It’s easy to be open-minded and learn

main qimg b57c2b7bc7a21e82ae248116decd780a
main qimg b57c2b7bc7a21e82ae248116decd780a

16. Financial freedom unlocks your extreme potential.
You get to experience and express your true self when you know your livelihood isn’t 100% reliant on other outside forces that might be uncontrollable by you. So when you achieve financial independence earlier on in your life, you are going to invest in yourself and believe in yourself regardless, you are going to work out and exercise because you will not be limited by time.

If you’re still employed, don’t be discouraged, just look for ways to make an extra buck and save it gradually till you have what you’d consider enough to get started. In one of my sources of passive income, I got started with just $500 and within a month, I saw immense results.

Growing old while the world decays

When I lived in Boston (actually Milford, MA), I remember an incident. I was sitting at a red light on the East side of town, and watched this little old man (90+ years) go to his office. He looked like he was on “deaths door”; just a short shabbily dressed old man. He hobbled down the sidewalk to this old store front.

The storefront was dusty. Inside the windows were pile and piles of papers, and the windows looked like they haven’t been scrubbed for decades. He produced a key and went in. Then closed the door behind him, turning the “We’re open!” sign on the old fashioned door.

I remember thinking about this older gentleman. Still running his business (whatever it was) in and out through the years. Insurance? Records? Dry cleaning? Attorney? Who knows. But he continued. It was part of his life.

Perhaps it was his responsibilities, and habits that helped him live into his grand old ages. Perhaps it is the idea of a “retirement” that is actually the death-blow to everyone.

We must provide purpose.

We must maintain responsibilities.

We must provide value to continue…

Bizarre Discoveries Found In Unexpected Places

No they cannot. And the US generals know this and that is why they continually advise the politicians against war with China.

When the Pelosi visit happened, the USA pulled back its two carrier groups further away from Chinese Taiwan coastal waters. Now you know they always travel in protective formation for the sake of the carriers. When the Chinese conducted military drills including live missile firing off Taiwan in protest they landed enough missiles on every single position that the carrier group had been in 8 hours previously To the meter. Every single US ship in that group would have been sunk if that had been a real opening of the war. All of the US fleets in those waters would be lost in a real war. The chances of USA not using nukes as retaliation for this is near zero. That means 5 minutes after US nuke launch the Chines missiles would launch and China would take massive casualties. USA would lose Hawaii Guam Wake All the Japanese bases and most of American mainland cities. (There are only 30 US cities with more than 1 million people, so 30 nukes and they are gone) and most of the 100 US bases on home soil.

I suspect North Korea would take out the South Korean bases and cities and maybe even some Japanese along with Alaska. Im pretty sure China cannot or would not touch the US bases in Europe but they can reach all cities in USA with maybe the exception of Florida. . I guess maybe 100–300 million deaths in China and much the same in USA with the loss of all above ground bases on the mainland and in the Pacific. The generals all know this. The politicians dont, or dont care.

I wonder if Russia would take the opportunity to join in and get rid of their biggest warmongering problem altogether. 7000 nukes can make a mess of NATO and mainland USA if they did.

Carolina Hot Dog Chili

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2023 06 17 06 46

Ingredients

  • 1 1/4 pounds ground beef
  • 1 large onion (about 1 cup chopped)
  • 1 (6 ounce) can tomato paste
  • 1/2 cup ketchup
  • 1 tablespoon chili powder
  • 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 teaspoon cider or white vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper (optional)

Instructions

  1. Place the beef, onion and 2 cups of water in a Dutch oven or soup pot over high heat. Bring to the water to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and stir to begin breaking up the meat.
  2. Add the tomato paste, ketchup, chili powder, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, salt and pepper, if using. Stir well until the tomato paste and ketchup are dissolved and the meat is mostly broken up.
  3. Continue to cook at a simmer, stirring about every 5 minutes, about 15 minutes. As the chili thickens, you may need to reduce the heat to medium-low or low so it doesn’t stick. Refrigerate, covered, up to 2 days, or freeze in small freezer bags for up to 6 months.
  4. Thaw or reheat in a microwave, stirring often.

If you want a finer texture, you can cool the chili at least 20 minutes and process in a blender or food processor for 30 to 45 seconds.

Approximate nutritional values per 2-tablespoon serving: 55 calories; 3 grams protein; 3 grams carbohydrate; 4 grams fat (58% calories from fat); 12 milligrams cholesterol; 0 fiber; 174 milligrams sodium

IMPOSSIBLE Places People Were Found

The key word here is : DOOR-STEP

Door-step in this article means outside your property line. Not inside.

Let say I walk at your door-step. On the street which is a public area. I have not entered your property line.


I carry something that looks like a rifle to you. Bullet-proof vest & helmet.

I have a track record that I made trouble for other households in the society.

How will you react to my appearance at your door-step if it is daily?


Now …

Let’s replace “I” with “USA”. “my rifle” with “US warplanes/warships”. “me at your door-step” with “USA at the door-step of China”.

Remember I am outside your property line. Same for US warplanes/warships outside China’s borderline according to UNCLOS.

Also, now replace “my daily” with “USA’s 1,200 times”

How will you react to my appearance at your door-step, daily?


If this is not DELIBERATE provocation & picking fights, what is it?

  • Minding one’s own business?
  • Assisting in keeping the region free of pirates?
  • Being there to help ships in distress during storms?

There is police/law to stop my malicious action towards you. If there is not, will you do everything to protect your family?

There is ICC & UN laws eg Non-Innocent Passage as I said in other articles. But ICC is believed to be “controlled” by USA. USA was not charged for war crime in the 2003 Iraq war.

Hence China must protect itself.


Now USA scolds CHINA BEING AGGRESSIVE ???

Only a bully or mafia is that unreasonable.


OK, so now replace “my freedom to walk on public street” with “US freedom of navigation”

Only a bully or mafia will turn the logic upside down & conveniently use Freedom as god.

It is this type of twisted logic that USA justified their action to instigate riots/coups/wars in the world 82 out of 100 times, since WW2. Causing millions of deaths & human suffering.


We must ask :

  • Why USA instigated riots/wars in Middle East for the past 20 years. OIL.
  • What about China? Rise of China that, in US words, threatens US status on world stage.

China works hard to better itself & thus achieves a lots. IMF said China contributes 30% of world GDP.

Am I not allowed to get A+ in my exam just because you get F- in yours?

Only sore losers have the type of mentality to contain others.


Search Quora for a question:

What is Innocent Passage under UNCLOS ?

Woman Dies During Stroke; Shown Past Lives & Life’s Purpose During NDE

“If you ignore the lessons, they’ll keep throwing them at you.”

No Collapse Is the Real Dystopia

Still waiting for the Big Collapse

So far the 2020s seem more chaotic than previous decades. Based upon current events, economic and sociological data, and looking at historical cycles like the 4th turning theory and Peter Turchin’s research, it looks like there will be a major historical crisis this decade.

In contrast, the 2010s felt very stagnant, despite the recession at the beginning of the decade, and political movements such as Occupy Wall Street, nationalism and populism in Europe, the Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders movements, and the beginning of the Great Awokening.

Looking specifically at years, 2016 was a turning point with the election of Trump, 2017 was somewhat chaotic with political strife between antifa and the alt-right, then both 2018 and 2019 felt very stagnant.

Obviously 2020 was a chaotic year with the pandemic, as well as the BLM riots and acceleration in woke politics and cancel culture, with certain moments feeling apocalyptic. However, with the exception of Jan6th, 2021 was another stagnant year, with covid easing and the peak of the stimulus bubble and market euphoria.

Also in 2021, the right was totally demoralized and cancel culture had become the new normal. There was some return to chaos in 2022, with the onset of inflation and the Ukraine war. While this year has seen a banking crisis, dept default scare, migrant crisis, more political turmoil such as the inditement of Trump, and increased political instability overseas, overall things feel stagnant again, or perhaps a calm before the storm.

The perma bulls just won’t give up

It initially seemed that the Silicon Valley Bank crash would put an end to copes about economic recovery.

Despite recent fear of a debt default, major vulnerabilities in the financial system, higher interest rates, unprecedented levels of debt, sticky inflation, and the worst yield curve inversion in over 30 years, there is still a lot of bullish propaganda.

For instance talk of a mild recession, soft landing, a new bull market, and that we may have even dodged a recession altogether.

The bulls’ basis for optimism is a combination of the debt ceiling deal, official unemployment stats still being low, a slight dip in inflation, and hope for a pause in Fed rate hikes.

Not to mention the new cope of an AI boom saving the economy and ushering in a new bull market, which is just creating another bubble in stocks, on top of the existing super bubble.

This propaganda is in line with Janet Yellen’s infamous statement that we will never have another financial crisis again in our lifetime, the arrogance that the system is perfected to withstand collapse.

The cringiest bull take so far, is that the economy is doing great because of the exorbitant prices for Taylor Swift concert tickets, as obviously there are many affluent girls who use Daddy’s credit card to buy tickets.

If anything this just further shows the scope of the debt bubble, and high levels of income inequality.

The current vibes remind me a lot of January’s bullishness before the banking crash, though we will probably see some repeat of cycles of coming close to the imminent crash, followed by more copes of a recovery, before the inevitable big crash.

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2b65f20c 7ed4 4cd0 bf66 8c76d2763334 583×853

While bears have been vindicated, looking at the overall trajectory of the economy, there have been times over the past few years, when bears appeared wrong or overshot their predictions about the severity of an impending crisis.

For starters, expecting that covid would cause a depression, which did not anticipate stimulus propping up the economy, at least for the time being.

There was also concern, including from the mainstream media, that the Ukraine war was going to cause a global famine, the worst in modern history, by last fall.

However, there was a successful deal, negotiated by Turkey between Russia and Ukraine, to allow the safe shipments of Ukrainian grain through the Black Sea.

The question is whether a prolonged conflict, delaying Ukraine’s planting season, will mean a global famine within the next few years.

There were also expectations that Europe would have a catastrophic energy crisis last winter, which also did not pan out.

Even Russia limiting oil production did not spike oil prices as high as anticipated. Europe lucked out by having a mild winter, and enough petrol and natural gas saved up in their reserves, and extra help from America, as Biden depleted America’s strategic petrol reserves.

Overall it was a combination of certain supply chain issues getting resolved from the pandemic and war, but also a decline in global demand, and just kicking the can down the road.

In order to have a healthier economy, it is necessary for super bubbles to pop, and a similar case can be made for social and political ills.

Since the pandemic mostly exacerbated the worst trends of the 2010s, such as social atomization, the mental health crisis, the sex recession, income inequality, the establishment consolidating power, cancel culture, cultural decay, and overall cringe, the question is whether a severe economic collapse would clear out societal bullshit or just make these problems worse.

An economic soft landing or stagnation scenario would likely exacerbate the worst existing trends, so I totally get the doomers and accelerationists who cheer on the collapse.

However, dissidents, who are often in despair, or feel that the current system is stacked against them, have this fantasy cope, that when the big collapse occurs, either they or their ingroup will do better or be liberated from systems of oppression, which is incredibly naïve. Dissidents have no institutional power and this doomer mentality is very passive, primarily fulfilling a psychological need. If one’s life and inner psyche is in chaos, one tends to want to see the cold indifferent society around them collapse as well.

Doomers rely upon this fantasy that one external shock to the system, or Black Swan event, will cause the entire system to come crashing down like a house of cards, but the system has shown itself to be much more resilient than that.

California shows that a one party liberal hegemonic system can last much longer than one would think, though it has been sustained by Silicon Valley revenue, and the exodus of the middle class acting as a safety valve for discontent. The financial propagandists who talk of a soft landing are partially correct, in that it is a soft landing or no recession for those at the top.

In fact, America is working great for the people who run it, but not for those with no power and influence.

The incoming severe recession may just mean more urban blight, homeless encampments, increased deaths of despair, and widening income inequality, but not necessarily a collapse of institutional power.

Anonymous 4chan post from 2013

b6bbb65d eb5d 48fe b6c7 05d5507f3567 1536x817
b6bbb65d eb5d 48fe b6c7 05d5507f3567 1536×817

The prophet of despair, Michel Houellebecq, has been totally vindicated in his prediction from the beginning of the pandemic that post pandemic life would be “the same but worse.”

Collapses are often gradual and not overnight, and not necessarily a Mad Max scenario, but rather collapse just means a lower quality of life for most people. This is even true for third world nations that have collapsed, like Sri Lanka, or with the current high levels of inflation in Turkey and Argentina.

“The nightmare is not the “collapse.” The nightmare is that they pull off the End of History, and things just gradually get worse – more crime, more poverty, more degeneracy, fewer services, and a population incapable of anything other than demanding larger doses of the poison,” tweets VDARE’s James Kirkpatrick.

Basically a gradual decline in people’s quality of life or a frog in the boiling pan scenario, where people just get used to degradation, and may never actually reach that breaking point but rather merely adjust their expectations and standards.

Dissidents rely upon this fantasy of the masses awakening and rebellion, but with lower wages and higher unemployment, there is just greater leverage to those in power and less to the people.

The political elite must factor in that some type of economic crash means that people will be desperate enough to work for little or nothing and give up their freedoms and autonomy.

The question is whether Americans, especially middle class Whites, can psychologically handle the decline and transition to a post-American order?

Federal Reserve Chart of change in Foreign Exchange Reserves

2023 06 17 11 20
2023 06 17 11 20

A probable scenario is where the US economy has a quasi-soft landing but at the expense of the rest of the world, by abusing the reserve currency to export inflation abroad.

For instance, nations being forced to play catch up with the Fed’s rate hikes in order to save their currencies.

This will accelerate the migrant crisis and increase resentment against America, with the potential for retaliation against the dollar.

America would go into a depression, if it lost its reserve currency status, but the dollar still dominates foreign exchange reserves, with no clear competitor.

On a similar note, an AI boom could turn the economy around after the recession, perhaps even a period of rapid economic expansion, but would also exacerbate income inequality and gradually erode the value of labor.

While there will likely not be a debt default anytime soon, the main danger now is the Treasury being forced to sell treasury bills and bonds, which would drain liquidity in the financial markets, thus exacerbating the banking crisis, push commercial real estate over the edge, and cause a pension solvency crisis.

Not to mention, exacerbating the financial trap that the Fed is in, where if the Fed pivots or bails out the banks, inflation resurges, but if rates are kept high, there will be a liquidity and debt default crisis.

Whether this will be the financial event that causes the big crash is hard to say.

Overall, the main vulnerability in the economy is the sheer levels of debt, both public and private, in which the response will likely be inflating the dollar to pay off massive debts.

The crash has taken much longer than anticipated, like watching paint dry, and I am done trying to guess when this mega crash will occur.

Generally I take the view that the economic bubble is just being propped up further, and that the inevitable is being delaying, which will lead to a much worse economic crisis.

However, what if this is all part of a successful managed decline, or manufactured stability, which is really depressing and demoralizing.

America is in decline but it is a stretch to say collapse, but rather a long term multidecade process, a slow motion decay, analogous to Rome’s decline as a late stage empire, which took a very long period of time to fall. America has both advantages over other nations and major vulnerabilities.

(Republished from Substack by permission of author or representative)

People are being killed over this – UFO whistleblowers EXPOSE the deep state agenda

US Attempts ’Divide and Conquer’ Strategy Against BRICS

JOHN TITOR: Time traveler, soldier, savior

Nope.

People often think that China is extremely, extremely dependent on manufacturing goods and exporting to other countries.

Actually, China’s services sector is already bigger than its industrial sector. Furthermore, manufacturing is only one of three components in its industrial sector (the other two being construction and mining).

In addition, the biggest market for Chinese goods is actually China itself. Which also happens to be the biggest consumer market in the world.

Finally, it’s worth noting that while the USA is the biggest importer of Chinese goods, what the USA imports is only about the amount purchased by Hong Kong, Japan and Korea each year.

Meanwhile, there are still 120+ other countries that buy more goods from China, than any other country on earth.

To summarise, China doesn’t just manufacture & sell goods for a living. That isn’t even its main thing. Furthermore, while the USA is its biggest customer, the USA is still just one customer, out of MANY customers.

Egypt Shocking Announcement Joining BRICS: What It Means for the World Economics

https://youtu.be/w-92OEYxqMc

Amid U.S. “de-risking” rhetoric, world relies more on China’s exports — SCMP

Amid so-called “de-risking” rhetoric led by the United States, as the world relies more on China’s exports, China is learning to rely more on itself, reported the South China Morning Post. So far, Washington’s actions have little to show for results.

main qimg 2c8d67f932132ec723859435fca7bd2f
main qimg 2c8d67f932132ec723859435fca7bd2f

According to official U.S. data, the United States’ merchandise trade deficit with China was larger last year than when former President Donald Trump took office, and the overall trade deficit is at a record high.

Moreover, U.S. imports of manufactured goods have not moderated, with import penetration rising to 34 percent from 31 percent in 2017, the article said.

There has been a dramatic decline in China’s importance to U.S. trade, but China’s exports to the world have risen to record highs in recent years.

China has moved on from being largely an assembler of imported components to a manufacturer of sophisticated products, which has made China more self-sufficient.

12 ALIEN CRAFT In US Custody, Intel Confirms; One Source Claims PILOT Found: Michael Shellenberger

Ah!!!

Other way round

Dells announcement came after their market share fell in China

It’s simple

Dell doesn’t have a good market in China anymore

It’s sinking by the day

When I visited the previous time, i wentto the malls to see the laptops and saw a lot of Dell, IBM & HP Laptops dominating in every showroom and shop

This time I saw only Realme, Xiaomi, Redmi, Honor (Huawei) laptops selling like hot cakes with only Apple selling at the same demand

Nobody is buying Dell in China anymore

So Dell will move out of China because they lost the huge Chinese market

They have no chance in US except with high level IT infrastructure where IBM dominates the market or laptops where Apple is the king

Like Samsung

Dell will come to India and hope to make India a cornerstone market because Dell is our leading laptop and our Domestic laptops are a big disaster to date

Kenya Drops The U.S. Dollar

US still mired in a Cold War mindset, but tide is turning

At his long-awaited face-to-face G20 meeting with President Xi Jinping, US President Joe Biden reaffirmed that notwithstanding vigorous competition, mutual conflict must be avoided. He cited the need for cooperation in a range of transnational challenges, including climate change, debt relief, health security, and global food security.

According to Chinese press reports, Biden doubled down on earlier pledges of nonconfrontation to encompass “five no’s” and “four no-intents” — no seeking of regime change; no new Cold War; no ganging up against China; no support for “Taiwan independence”; no support for “two Chinas”; no intention of conflict with China; no intention to decouple from China; no intention to hinder China’s economic development; and no intention to contain China.

However, these nine specific pledges do NOT appear in the relevant Washington readout. Rhetoric and diplomatic niceties aside, anti-China hype, postures and measures are likely to persist, fueled by strong bipartisan consensus of a systemic “China threat” echoed by a “hegemonic coalition” of America’s closest Western allies.

I experienced this continuing anti-China blowback firsthand as a sponsored speaker during a recent international conference, From Crises to Crises: Towards a New World Order — MEDays 2022 — held in Tangier, Morocco, from Nov 2-5. My three American co-panelists, all senior foreign policy advisers across the aisle, seemed to sing from the same robust anti-China hymn book.

I commenced by saying that I didn’t see how constantly antagonizing a targeted adversary can be regarded as a strategy.

I pointed out that all decoupling, sanctions, tariffs, denial of key technology access, and corralling Western allies to suppress China do not seem to have yielded meaningful outcomes.

With Ukraine-war disruptions and a faltering global economy, they have backfired on the United States (and the rest of the world), necessitating unprecedented serial interest-rate hikes to curb rising inflation.

With the possible exception of some of America’s closest allies in the so-called Five Eyes alliance, many countries do not wish to be forced to take sides, as China has become the largest trading partner to 128 out of 190 nations across the globe.

China’s centrality to the global supply and value chain is particularly prominent in the world’s largest trading bloc (accounting for one-third of the global economy and one-third of the world’s population), the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership, which comprises the 10 member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, as well as their principal trading partners — Japan, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea and Singapore.

I also pointed out that the Chinese government, under the leadership of the Communist Party of China, has been successfully winning the highest support and trust of the vast majority of the Chinese people, multiple rankings above many other Western democracies, including the US, according to the most recent comparative studies conducted by the Harvard Kennedy School Ash Center and the Edelman Trust Barometer.

Although I didn’t have the time to go into the details, the Edelman findings show that China is the biggest people’s trust winner in this year’s survey, thanks to the decisive action taken to prevent the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic within the nation and a rising pride in China’s global gravitas despite escalating US tensions.

I contrasted the legitimacy between China’s CPC-led system and Western adversarial democracies. The all-time CPC imperative is to bring about much better lives for people across the whole nation, while adversarial democracies tend to focus on vested interests and voters supporting the winning political party in every election cycle.

As for alleged “technology theft”, I mentioned the example of China’s success in building its own space station from scratch. China had also succeeded in landing a robotic probe at the back of the moon ahead of all other nations.

I said that despite substantial advancement, China has neither the intention nor the full military, financial and monetary capability to supplant the US as a world hegemon.

As is clear from the CPC’s 20th National Congress, what China is seeking is to realize the “China Dream” of national renaissance by 2049 — the 100th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China — to reestablish China’s historic place in the sun, so to speak.

I admitted there have been substantial US-China disagreements and concerns. But building a bridge with a multitrack dialogue would be more productive than constructing fences and barriers.

How China responds to what President Xi calls a world “crossroads” amid “momentous changes unseen in a century” is embedded in his speeches at the 17th G20 summit in Bali (Nov 15-16) and at the APEC CEO summit in Bangkok (Nov 17), as well as in Premier Li Keqiang’s speech at the 25th China-ASEAN summit in Phnom Penh (Nov 11).

Xi outlined a clear vision for an “Asia-Pacific community with a shared future”. The region is “no one’s backyard”, nor should it become “an arena for big power contest”. It should embrace “openness and inclusiveness”, guided by “diversity and nondiscrimination”, enabling “win-win cooperation” and “regional economic integration” free from any supply-chain disruption or dismantling.

Rejecting a “Cold War mentality” and “bloc confrontation”, Xi puts forth the idea of “common, comprehensive, cooperative and sustainable security” in a “Global Security Initiative” based on the United Nations Charter.

Specifically, Xi proposes building a “free trade area of the Asia-Pacific”, including reform of the World Trade Organization, better alignment among the RCEP, the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership, and the Digital Economy Partnership Agreement,

For the world at large, Xi stresses that “drawing ideological lines or promoting group politics and bloc confrontation will only divide the world, and hinder global development and human progress”. He espouses a Global Development Initiative, under which more than 60 countries have joined a GDI Group of Friends.

China has established the Global Development and South-South Cooperation Fund, and will increase its funding for the China-UN Peace and Development Fund, in furtherance of the 2030 UN Agenda for Sustainable Development.

Xi refers to China’s submission of 15 projects to the G20 Action for Strong and Inclusive Recovery, working with G20 members on delivery.

Opposing the politicization of food and energy issues, the president points to China’s joint Initiative of International Cooperation on Resilient and Stable Industrial and Supply Chains, the Global Clean Energy Cooperation Partnership, and the International Cooperation Initiative on Global Food Security in the G20.

It’s clear that under President Xi’s leadership, China is proactive in taking on a much larger role to help build a better world in a “community of common destiny”, bound together by global challenges like climate change, pandemics, food and water security, terrorism and development bottlenecks. This should be welcome.

The pivotal question is whether the US, as the world’s leading superpower, can rise beyond “American exceptionalism” and a zero-sum, “win-lose” mindset.

For decades, the CPC has been consistently misunderstood, misjudged and misrepresented, if not thoroughly demonized, by the West, including some of the most respected authors, broadsheets, think tanks, journals and other media outlets.

The so-called “China threat” is reaching a crescendo, portraying the US-China rivalry as a “life-or-death” contest between “democracy and autocracy”. This can be seen in tomes like The Hundred-Year Marathon: China’s Secret Strategy to Replace America as the Global Superpower (2015), The Return of Great Power Rivalry (2020), and Danger Zone: The Coming Conflict with China (2022). According to the Washington-based Pew Research Center, unfavorable views on China are reaching historic highs in many countries.

Rhetoric aside, Biden’s assurances at his three-hour-long meeting with Xi in Bali focused on guardrails rather than blue-sky thinking. The upcoming 2024 US presidential election and the election for Taiwan’s leader are also likely to politicize issues prone to upsetting the apple cart, though not necessarily resulting in war. I’m, therefore, not overoptimistic about a lasting breakthrough in US-China relations.

However, according to Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development calculations, developing countries will account for nearly 60 percent of the world’s GDP on a purchasing-power parity basis by 2030. More are becoming confident enough to exert their national interests, individually or collectively, in defiance of hegemonic strong-arm tactics. OPEC’s recent refusal to expand oil production on the US’ say-so is a case in point. More are likely to have China as the largest trading partner and to welcome a more-inclusive world order not drawn on ideological lines, as espoused by Xi.

As the pandemic recedes and as its economy resumes running on all cylinders, China is likely to be on track to become the world’s largest economy in nominal terms, perhaps by the early 2030s, and a strong, more-advanced socialist economy by 2035 as planned, thanks to rising productivity (despite worsening demographics) driven by robotics and a digitized economy, technological innovation, high-speed-rail-connected supercharged urbanization, and a rapidly expanded middle class of some 800 million by 2035.

If China could manage to bust the West’s allegations concerning trade, intellectual property and human rights “transgressions”, Xi’s panoply of concrete ideas, initiatives and proposals for a global community of common destiny are likely to gain faster traction and momentum, regaining for China its rightful place in the sun as the “China Dream” of national renaissance is eventually realized.

China Will Protect Taiwan “At ANY Costs”

https://youtu.be/9tzlT0VPwpE

On The Failure Of The Ukrainian Counterattack

On June 4/5 the Ukrainian military launched its long announced counteroffensive in southeast Ukraine. Ten days later there is no significant progress.

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ukrmap20230614

biggerThis is not the outcome the war propagandists expected:

[General Petreus] spoke about the situation in Ukraine to BBC Radio 4’s Today programme.On the counteroffensive, he said:

I think that this counteroffensive is going to be very impressive.

My sense is that they will achieve combined arms effects in other words, they will successfully carry out combined arms operations where you have engineers that are breaching the obstacles and diffusing the minefields and so forth; armour following right on through protected by infantry against anti-tank missiles; air defence keeping the Russians aircraft off them; electronic warfare jamming their radio networks; logistics right up behind them; artillery and mortars right out in front of them.

And most important of all … is that as the lead elements inevitably culminate after 72-96 hours, physically that’s about as far as you can go, and they’ll have taken losses … you have follow-on units that will push right on through and capitalise on the progress and maintain the momentum and I think that can get the entire Russian defence in that area moving, then I think you have other opportunities that will open up on the flanks as well.

Back in reality the lead elements of the Ukrainian attack got slaughtered. They ‘culminated’, i.e. lost their ability for further attacks, in less than a day:

The men of Ukraine’s 37th Brigade were freshly trained and armed with Western-supplied weapons, tasked with an initial push through Russian-occupied territory in the early days of a long-awaited counteroffensive.They would pay a heavy price.

Within 20 minutes of their June 5 advance south of Velyka Novosilka, in the southeast Donetsk region, mortars exploded all around them, soldiers said. A 30-year-old soldier known as Lumberjack saw two of the men in his vehicle bleeding heavily; one lost an arm as he cried out for his family. Lumberjack crawled into a crater, but the shrapnel from a mortar went through the soil and pierced his shoulder.

“We were left there in the field, without tanks or heavy armor,” said Lumberjack, who spoke to The Washington Post on the condition that he be identified only by his call sign because he was not authorized to discuss the battle. “We were shelled with mortars from three sides. We couldn’t do anything.”

There were fewer than 50 men in the unit, he said, and 30 did not return — they were killed, wounded or captured by the enemy. Five of the unit’s armored vehicles were destroyed within the first hour.

Whoever trained those units made grave mistakes:

For the first hour and a half of the 37th’s assault near Velyka Novosilka, the Russians bombarded the unit with nonstop shelling that penetrated their AMX-10 RC armored vehicles, according to Grey, another soldier in the battalion who spoke on the condition that he be identified only by his call sign. The armored vehicles, sometimes called “light tanks,” were not heavy enough to protect the soldiers, Grey said, and had to be positioned behind them instead of in front.

The AMX-10 isn’t a tank and can not be used as one. It is a wheeled light reconnaissance vehicle built by France 50 years ago to dominate insurgents in its former African colonies. One of its main features is to have a good speed when in reverse gear. This to bail out as soon as serious counter forces are detected.

The Ukrainian counterattack is now stuck in the Russian defense security zone, miles away from the real defense lines. This was predictable.

As the U.S. Field Manual 100-2-1 described the Soviet army in defense (pg 93ff):

When the defense is established before contact with the enemy, the Soviets establish a security echelon up to 15 kilometers forward of the main defensive area. The elements which make up the security echelon come from the division’s second echelon. A security force of up to battalion size may be deployed in front of each first echelon regiment.A detailed and coordinated fire plan is developed. Weapons are positioned so that the maximum amount of fire can be brought to bear directly in front of the [Forward Edge of the Battle Area]. Enemy penetrations are blunted by shifting artillery fire and by conducting counterattacks.

fm100
fm100

biggerThe Ukrainian army used at least four brigades for its attack. At least two of those were from the 12 brigade reserve that had been built up for the counterattack. With losses of some 30% those involved were seriously mauled for little to no gain:

The Russians are trying to inflict as many casualties and destroy as many vehicles as possible in a battle zone ahead of the main defensive line, depleting Ukrainian forces before they reach it. In effect, it turns the area in front of the main defense line into a kill zone.

If the Russian strategy proves effective, Ukraine could lose too many of its newly trained troops — which number in the tens of thousands — and too many tanks and infantry fighting vehicles to breach the main line.Even if they get that far, the forces might be too weakened to stream south and help accomplish a major objective: severing the so-called land bridge that connects Russia to the occupied Crimean Peninsula. This would be done by reaching the Sea of Azov, about 60 miles away.

The Ukrainian forces were obviously not trained for this. They also attacked in too many places. The map at the top shows attack arrows in 7 places and four main directions. One or two attack directions, with more concentrated forces, might have created better results.

The Russian President Putin recently described the Ukrainian casualties:

I will not give the number of personnel losses. I will let the Defence Ministry do it after it runs the numbers, but the structure of losses is unfavourable for them as well. What I mean to say is that of all personnel losses – and they are approaching a number that can be called catastrophic – the structure of these losses is unfavourable for them. Because as we know, losses can be sanitary or irretrievable. Usually, I am afraid I may be off a little, but irretrievable losses are around 25 percent, maximum 30 percent while their losses are almost 50/50. This is my first point.Second, if we look at irretrievable losses, clearly, the defending side suffers fewer losses, but this ratio of 1 to 10 is in our favour. Our losses are one-tenth of the losses of the Ukrainian forces.

Since the start of the counterattack the Russian daily report has listed a total of some 10,500 Ukrainian casualties.

A second large attempt to cross the Forward Edge of the Battle Area (FEBA) with the remaining Ukrainian forces is expected, but is unlikely to have a better outcome. The long promoted Ukrainian counterattack is likely to end with high Ukrainian losses and no gains.

This then will soon become a huge political problem:

As he heads into next year’s reelection campaign, Biden needs a major battlefield victory to show that his unqualified support for Ukraine has burnished U.S. global leadership, reinvigorated a strong foreign policy with bipartisan support and demonstrated the prudent use of American military strength abroad.

A muddled outcome of limited gains in Ukraine would provide grist for all of those critiques and further cloud the already murky waters of NATO and European Union debate over future posture toward both Ukraine and Russia. A less than “overwhelming” success would probably also increase pressure in the West to push Kyiv to negotiate a territorial settlement that may not be to its liking.

There is little the Biden administration can do to change the grim picture. Congress will likely prevent it from openly using the U.S. military in Ukraine. The European NATO allies have now seen what the Russian army can do to its enemies. They will not be eager to see the same done to their own troops.

That leaves negotiations as the only way out.

The question for Russia is when and with whom. Talks with only Ukraine, a mere U.S. proxy with no real say, would be insufficient. It is the U.S. government that must agree to a new security architecture in Europe. The Russian conditions for peace will be harsh and it will still take a lot of time, and many dead Ukrainians, until the U.S. agrees to them.

Posted by b on June 16, 2023 at 14:47 UTC | Permalink

Chinese says 24 hypersonic anti-ship missile will sink #USSGeraldRFord carrier fleet

There are many reasons.

[1] China is a peaceful nation. It considers war to be the absolute result of failure to resolve differences. And, China, being a merit driven nation, avoid failure at all costs.

[2] China has no need to fight the United States. There is nothing the United States has that China wants. This aspect of reality is at odds with the American narrative, but seriously trade with the United States is trivial, and what ever technologies that remain in the United States is not exclusive. China has “work-arounds”. The idea that “China would collapse without the United States” is a trope that feeds a proportion of the most ignorant of Americans.

[3] China is doing quite well right now. There is no need to change the status quo one way or the other. China is content to leave things stay as they are.

Of course, these reasons are pretty basic.

There is ONE REASON why China actually WOULD start a full-scale military conflict with the United States. This is the one and only reason. That is if China is attacked.

To avoid being attacked, China has clearly explained to the United States what an attack entails. That way there is no ambiguity. China might be many things, but when it need to be blunt, it spells out its position clearly.

For those who cannot read Chinese, or cannot find the English versions, here is a quick summary…

  • Shooting, attacking, killing, wounding or harming China or the Chinese people.

I know, I know, that American neocons like Tom Cotton, and Mike Pompeo believe that this is a trivial and silly reason, and that China “would never” respond to an American attack with military force. But, aside from those ideological fanatics, China is quite clear that bombing Taiwan, shooting at Chinese vessels or planes (as of this writing) would result in catastrophic war.

China has also created clear “trip wires” that would automatically trigger a military action. These “trip wires” are often called “red lines”, and they function as a clear delineation of action for the PLA forces.

  • Supporting or assisting anti-Chinese terrorist and separatist actions.
  • Placement of offensive weapons inside of Taiwan.
  • Invading Chinese air space, land or operational regions.

Overall, the Chinese “trip wires” are identical to American versions. And for the longest time, a calm status quo has been maintained, but the 2022 collapse of the American society, and the raging incompetence of the American government has created a domestic need to acquire a scapegoat, and that has become China.

We can hope that the United States focuses inward on the multitude of domestic problems that are symptomatic of the ruins of American society, but my personal opinion is that it will take decades, and a major restructuring of the very structure of the United States government.

Meanwhile, China will continue to avoid conflict to the point whereas it must engage the United States militarily. And then, when this sad failure in diplomacy occurs, China will go VERY, VERY HOT militarily.

ONE FINAL NOTE

China has already ascertained that China and the United States are in a war. As such, China has already developed a Casus Belli in support of it. China has already made the necessary arrangements and have coordinated with Russia as well as numerous other nations) on how to prosecute this campaign.

Therefore, you can expect the United States to continue to “ratchet up the thermostat” as a prelude to war, but do not misunderstand.

China has already determined the time, the methodology, and the rules, and the mechanism in regards to this conflict. China will continue to ignore the insults and provocations until it is the proper time to enact and conduct war on its terms.

She wants YOU to pay for her extra airline seats

The problem with this line of thinking is 99 out of 100 countries won’t be able to follow in China’s footsteps.

China banned after-school tutoring overnight to equalize the playing field. Can other countries do it?

China eradicated extreme poverty by sending officials to the poorest villages to fight poverty on the finest granular level. In the final decade, more than 3 million officials were dispatched, with more than 1,800 cadres sacrificing their lives due to the difficult conditions. Can other countries afford that kind of extreme commitment?

China built 40,000km of HSR in 15 years, enough to circumnavigate the earth. That’s more high speed rail than the rest of the world managed in the last 60 years. Can other countries catch up with China’s rocket speed?

China, the second largest economy, handles 300m containers with a network of automated ports served ably by excellent road and rail. The United States, with a far longer coastline and access to two oceans, struggles with 50m. Can other countries play the Chinese shipping game?

Don’t try to emulate China. That is a road paved with tears and disappointment.

Southern Chili

southern homemade chili 3
southern homemade chili 3

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground meat
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 3/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 2 cans tomato paste
  • 2 tomato paste cans water
  • 1 (No. 2) can tomato juice
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 2 cans chili beans, drained

Instructions

  1. Brown meat with onion, garlic, 1 1/2 teaspoons of the salt, 1/2 teaspoon of the pepper and chili powder.
  2. Combine remaining salt and pepper with remaining ingredients except beans; add to meat mixture. Bring to a boil; simmer for 2 hours.
  3. Add beans during final 15 minutes of cooking.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Young Girl Dies In Crash; Shown Afterlife And The Importance Of Thoughts (NDE)

Time to enjoy the lost pies of Summer

2023 06 15 11 32
2023 06 15 11 32

One of my great “little” pleasures is a nice cup of good coffee and a fine pie. In the United States, this is a staple of American Diners. You just cannot get this at Fast Food or Chain restaurants.

You go in. Sit up at the counter, and ask the waitress if they have any pies, and if so, what would they recommend.  I have long ago discovered that the best pie is a Southern Sweet potato pie. Most especially with a scoop of vanilla (French) ice cream on the top.

Today, for reasons that elude me, I am “hankering” for a nice pie.

Ah. I cannot get one. But many of youse guys can. Please have a great bite of pie and think of me!

Best Pies in Texas: Flying Saucer Pie Company | Worth the Wait

Foreign firms cast wise votes of confidence in China’s economy

China’s economy has shifted from high-speed growth to high-quality development. The enormous opportunities created by this shift have retained China’s position as a top destination for foreign investment.

main qimg e386135131d60b81462221e643583d4c
main qimg e386135131d60b81462221e643583d4c

Citing the latest economic data such as the purchasing managers’ index, some Western media reports recently cast doubt on China’s economic growth prospects. But this is just a repetition of their habitual pessimistic tone. Foreign firms continue to cast votes of confidence in the world’s second-largest economy.

Despite various challenges, the Chinese economy has followed an unwavering trend of sustained recovery. Furthermore, China has maintained a leading position in main economic indicators among major economies this year. The World Bank lifted China’s economic growth expectation to 5.6 percent in its Global Economic Prospects report released on Tuesday.

The huge market and resilience of the Chinese economy are still proving to be cardiotonic to foreign companies’ confidence in China. A large number of international business tycoons including the leaders of Tesla, Starbucks, Alstom and Volkswagen have visited China to seek cooperation opportunities.

Elon Musk, the founder of Tesla, praised China’s vitality and potential, voiced confidence in the Chinese market, and expressed his willingness to deepen cooperation during his visit to the country last week.

These renowned enterprises are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to foreign companies’ willingness to continue to invest in China. A total of 11,000 new foreign-invested companies were established in China in the first quarter of 2023, a 7.6-percent increase year on year, the State Administration for Market Regulation said.

Last month, U.S. Consumer News and Business Channel quoted Procter &Gamble, Starbucks, and other U.S. companies as saying that Chinese consumers’ increased travel and leisure spending had helped these companies improve their overall sales. The report also noted that with a large population base and a growing middle class, China is a desirable market for multinationals.

The sound prospects of China’s huge market, the resilience of its economy, and the mature industry chain of the global factory, combine to offer ample reasons for international firms to cast votes of confidence in China’s economy.

Another reason is that China is gradually becoming a source of global innovation. Volkswagen inked an investment agreement of around 1 billion euros (about 1.07 billion U.S. dollars) in April to build a research and development, innovation, and procurement center in east China, while Tesla’s energy-storage product factory is scheduled to break ground in Shanghai this year.

These facts speak for themselves and illustrate clearly that China remains a popular destination for foreign investment. China always welcomes foreign companies to access its market and benefit from its development dividends. Certainly, China’s economy will continue to be a major driver of global growth.

The True value of Pie

Happy Π day, guys. Have some pictures of pie. If you choose to combine the two to judge the total volume of leftover slices in any of these photos, feel free.

But I’d say the true value went into the fun of choosing a recipe, fiddling with the ingredients and “design”, sharing them with friends and family and, of course, eating them.

Choosing a recipe: traditional? international? savory? sweet? seasonal?

Designing the pie: Patterned pastry? Display the ingredients? Or create a zombie binary? (I’ll leave that example to my brother)

Sharing: make two, probably. Leave one at home, or take both so the recipient can keep one to themselves and share the other?

Easy as Pie

A good pie starts with a good crust – I stick to the basics for traditional pastry: 1:3 proportion of shortening to flour, with just enough water to hold them together. A single crust pie is 1/3 cup shortening, 1 cup flour.

I mix with my hands so I can tell when the texture is right and the #1 trick is to keep the shortening cold and the water icy so it doesn’t mix too much and get gummy and touch.  Other methods include grated frozen butter – a rich dough my brother is partial to – or using a food processor to cut in the fat to the flour. Some people even make oil crusts, though I can’t say I have.

Back to the Basics

I’m a big fan of traditional dessert pies – apple, pumpkin, humble pie. Humble pie is not merely a metaphor for having to publicly display that you know you were wrong – an unpleasant sensation – it is also a on old-fashioned concoction of strawberries and rhubarb. Which is, to me, an entirely delicious sensation that always says spring is truly here, since we can grab both from our garden if we wish.

Pie Presents

Pie comes in so many flavors, but seem tied to scent and visual memories more than cake for many of our friends. I’ve made pies for graduation presents because I wanted to bring in some good memories from family celebrations past or for birthday presents to bring back memories of a favorite local bakery: 

Thanksgiving Pies

You can’t do Thanksgiving in our house without at least two kinds of traditional pies, though our traditions are likely to include homemade Concord Grape Pie, not one you’ll find in many bakeries or cookbooks. 

International Pies

You’re more likely to find meat pies when you explore beyond the basics of American cuisine, though of course they’re very traditional in the UK. The Italian meat pie below is more of an American invention, layering spinach and ricotta with meat sauce, tomatoes, and cheese. Bisteeya is a Moroccan version of Chicken pie that is hardly recognizable compared to our common types – and completely delicious.   

Custom Variations

The credit for the most visually interesting pies on this list goes to my brother, who was feeling inspired for a friend’s Halloween party one year: 

Although I made the traditional apple pie while listening/watching a season or so of Walking Dead and then it appears the zombies manifested in the pie itself in the next apple one.

Cherry Pie

Of all the pies in the world, Cherry Pie tops the list as one of the easiest pies to make, and I’m excited to share the simple, delicious recipe with you all!

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2023 06 15 11 21

How to make Cherry Pie:

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2023 06 15 11 22

If using fresh cherries:

  • Pit and halve the cherries. Add them to a saucepan with sugar and lemon juice and toss to combine. Cook over medium heat for a few minutes until juices are released. Use a slotted spoon to spoon cherries out into a bowl. Spoon some of the sauce into a cup and stir in the cornstarch until dissolved. Return to pot with remaining juices and cook for a few minutes until sauce has thickened. Pour over cherries and set aside while you prepare the pie crust.

If using canned cherries:

  • Drain the juice from the cans of cherries into a saucepan, reserving ⅓ cup in a small bowl. Set the cherries aside.
  • Add cornstarch to the bowl with the reserved ⅓ cup of juice and stir well to combine.

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2023 06 15 11 19

  • Heat the saucepan (that has the juice in it) over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir well. Bring mixture to a low boil. Stir in dissolved cornstarch mixture. Cook, stirring, until thickened, about 2-3 minutes. Stir in butter and lemon juice. Fold in the cherries. Add a few drops of red food coloring, if desired.
  • Allow mixture to cool to room temperature while you prepare the pie crusts.

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2023 06 15 11 20

  • Line pie plate with pie crust and cherry pie filling into it. If desired, cut the top crust into wide strips to lay a lattice crust on the pie, or place the whole, uncut pie crust over the filling and poke a hole in the top for steam to release as the pie bakes. (Here’s a lattice top tutorial if you’ve never made one on a pie.)
  • Pinch the edges of the top and bottom pie crusts together and crimp the edge, if you like. Brush a thin layer of beaten egg white over the top of the pie crust and sprinkle the crust pieces lightly with granulated sugar.

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2023 06 15 11 2s0

  • Bake at 400 degrees F for 40-45 minutes.

Summary

Instructions

If using fresh cherries:

  • Pit and halve the cherries. Add them to a saucepan with sugar and lemon juice and toss to combine. Cook over medium heat for a few minutes until juices are released. Use a slotted spoon to spoon cherries out into a bowl. Spoon some of the sauce into a cup and stir in the cornstarch until smooth. Return to pot with remaining juices and cook for a few minutes until thickened. Pour over cherries and set aside while you prepare the pie crust.

If using canned cherries:

  • Drain the juice from the cans of cherries into a saucepan, reserving ⅓ cup in a small bowl. Set the cherries aside. Add cornstarch to the bowl with the reserved ⅓ cup of juice and stir well to combine.
  • Heat the saucepan (that has the juice in it) over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir well. Bring mixture to a low boil. Stir in dissolved cornstarch mixture. Cook, stirring, until thickened, about 2-3 minutes. Stir in butter and lemon juice. Fold in the cherries. Add a few drops of red food coloring, if desired.
  • Allow mixture to cool to room temperature while you prepare the pie crusts.

Prepare Pie:

  • Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Set aside a 9” pie pan. (If using canned cherries, there will be enough filling for a deep dish pie dish).
  • Remove one chilled pie crust dough from the fridge. On a lightly floured counter, roll out your dough to about 12” in diameter. Gently place in the bottom of pie dish. Spoon the cherry filling into the unbaked crust and sprinkle a little cinnamon over the filling. (If using fresh cherries, add a few small pieces of butter on top).
  • Remove the second pie crust from the fridge and roll it out in a similar manner. Use a pizza cutter, knife or pastry wheel to cut the crust into long strips, about 1/2” wide. Lay strips over the crust in a lattice pattern. (If you’re lazy, like me, you can just lay half of the strips going one direction, and the others on top, going perpendicular, leaving a small space between each.)
  • Pinch the edges of the top and bottom pie crusts together and crimp the edge, if you like. Brush a thin layer of beaten egg white over the top of the pie crust and sprinkle some granulated sugar on top.
  • Bake at 400 degrees F for about 40-45 minutes. Check after about 25 minutes and gently place a piece of tinfoil over the top crust to keep it from getting too brown.
  • Remove to a wire cooling rack and allow to cool for several hours. Once cooled completely you can cut and serve it, or cover it and refrigerate it overnight to serve the next day.
  • Leftover cherry pie will last up to 5 days, stored in the fridge.

Notes

Make ahead Instructions: The cherry pie filling and pie crust can both be made a few days in advance, stored in the fridge until ready to use.

Freezing Instructions: Cover the baked and cooled cherry pie tightly and frozen for 2-3 months. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator. The prepared cherry pie filling and pie crust can also be frozen, stored separately.

Some Tips for perfect cherry pie:

Should you use Sweet or Sour Cherries for cherry pie? Sour, tart cherries (sometimes called “pie” cherries) are most commonly used in desserts like cherry pie. If using sweet cherries, decrease the sugar in this recipe by at least ⅓ cup.

Use a homemade pie crust! For pies like this that bake for longer in the oven, a homemade pie crust will make a difference in how the crust holds up as it bakes.

Most store-bought pie crusts are super thin and flimsy so the edges brown and dry out more quickly when baking. (Store-bought crusts work better for custard or pudding type of pie that only requires a pre-baked pie shell).

The good news, is my favorite pie crust recipe can be made weeks or even months in advance so that your pie dough is ready to “roll” (pun intended 🙂 ) when you need it!

Make ahead Instructions:

Both the cherry pie filling and pie crust can be made a few days in advance, stored in the fridge until ready to use.

Freezing Instructions:

Baked and cooled cherry pie can be covered tightly and frozen for 2-3 months. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator. The prepared cherry pie filling and pie crust can also be frozen, stored separately.

Globally, chances are you have not heard of this city. It is called Chongqing, which is quite possibly what John Bolton also calls every single Chinese city when he is drunk, but if the characters were reversed I wouldn’t even be allowed to say the name of the city.

main qimg 61f7a1c39c2a90320fb175ee35335d2c lq
main qimg 61f7a1c39c2a90320fb175ee35335d2c lq

Either way, the municipal area of Chongqing, had no less than 32 million people living there in 2020, with 22 million living in the urban area, compared to 19 million living in the New York City urban area.

Chongqing is however quite large, so despite downtown Chongqing obviously being very densely populated, the actually total density of the city is just around 400 people per km2.

So indeed, a regional city in China that most people haven’t heard of is larger than NYC in most ways, and likely more cities in China will follow this path soon.

Craftsman Michael Plichta Created this Incredible Globe of Planet Mars

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1597

Look, we all have seen a globe on more than a few occasions. Recently we got a look at the art of globe making, which was certainly interesting. Today however, the typical globe gets reworked into something unique and quite amazing by Michael Plichta. This unique and rather eye-catching design is artist, eye-catching and one of a kind, rocking a 12-inch Mars globe showing the famous mars canal map by Percival Lowell.

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6219

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5208

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3249

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During a debate comparing Chinese and Western systems of governance, held in Cambridge, Massachusetts, by the American nonprofit educational organization Intercollegiate Studies Institute on April 5, French entrepreneur and Internet influencer Arnaud Bertrand made a case for the suitability of China’s system for promoting the flourishing of its people.

Edited excerpts of his presentation follow:

One unstated idea that derives from comparisons between political systems is that models compete against each other and, if one is indeed better, it has the potential to take over the world.

I don’t believe this to be true at all. Take the Chinese model for example. It applies uniquely and only to China. It is the product of China’s very long and unique history, and it also fits the very particular economic and geopolitical context China is in today, but doesn’t fit or pretend to fit other countries.

As former U.S. National Intelligence Officer for East Asia Paul Heer said, “China is trying to pursue multipolarity and international legitimacy for their system, not impose it on other countries.” Similarly, Stephen Walt, a legendary professor of international relations from Harvard University, said “China explicitly embraces the idea that each country should determine for itself how it wants to be governed. The U.S., by contrast, loves to lecture others on how they should govern themselves and keeps trying to get other countries to embrace our liberal values.” Or again Henry Kissinger, who writes in his famous book On China that China never espoused the American notion of universalism to spread its values around the world.

Therefore, rather than comparing which system would be universally better for all, it makes more sense to look at which is better for their own people.

On freedom

We’ve progressively come to have a rather skewed understanding of freedom in the West, where we equate freedom with individual freedom, when it’s actually very much not the same thing. When you have a broader understanding of freedom as we used to have in the past, it becomes quite obvious that China might not in fact be the unfree place most people in the West picture it as, and vice versa: The West might not be quite so free.

A prominent example of this is China’s war on poverty. Unarguably an immense success: the largest and fastest reduction in poverty the world has ever seen. Even China’s biggest detractors agree with this.

The fact is that the extreme poverty has, by and large, been totally eradicated in China. I’ve traveled all over China, and the results are obvious. Can anyone genuinely make the case this made people less free, that they were freer when they were poor? Of course not, poverty is the antithesis of freedom. When you live in poverty, you’re quite literally a slave to your condition.

In contrast, there is a lot of poverty in countries like France and the U.S. You go to certain areas of Paris and you see hundreds of tents of homeless people. Any one of you can go to China today, travel all around the country and it’s extremely unlikely you’ll see homeless people on street.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 20.03 million people lived in deep poverty in 2021. Those in deep poverty represented 6.2 percent of the total population and 48.4 percent of those in poverty. Among them, a larger percentage of children under 18 live in deep poverty than adults in any age group. As defined by the bureau, “deep poverty” refers to living in a household with a total cash income below 50 percent of the national poverty threshold.

A recent study from the Urban Institute also revealed that, in 2022, a total of 25 percent of U.S. adults experienced food insecurity, meaning they sometimes can’t afford to eat. In France we’re at 14 percent of the population living under the poverty threshold. Can we genuinely say that those people are really free?

Many have forgotten this but Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1941 gave a so-called Four Freedoms speech in which he defined “freedom from want” and “freedom from fear” as two of the four freedoms America ought to achieve. He, too, recognized poverty alleviation was fundamental to freedom.

On the subject of “freedom from fear,” ask yourself a simple question: Do people feel free to walk alone anywhere in America at any time of the day or night? Do people have this freedom?

This freedom, by and large, does exist in China. The statistics are absolutely incredible: You’re 70 times more likely to be victim of a violent crime in the U.S. than you are in China. This is anecdotal, but in my seven years in China, not only have I never been a witness or victim of any crime but I’ve never had anyone in my acquaintance who was. It is a very, very safe country. This freedom from fear does exist.

The biggest form of freedom, a freedom that Charles de Gaulle, former French President, used to describe as the precondition for all other freedoms, is your independence as a country, your collective freedom to determine your own future.

Can anyone argue that when you’re a so-called “vassal state” or when you’re in a larger state’s so-called “sphere of influence,” you’re really free? Anyone can see that’s not quite true.

America isn’t of course anyone’s vassal state, quite the contrary in fact. But there is something that limits America’s freedom in that regard: its system of alliances. America is in many, many alliances: NATO, AUKUS, the Five Eyes, with Japan and so on and so forth. And of course this, too, limits your freedom of action since, on paper at least, you are committed to certain actions even if they might not be in your interest at that point in time. As we’ve painfully learned from World War I, alliances can be incredibly constraining and destructive.

China is unarguably the freest country in the world in this regard, as it cannot be even remotely considered as being any country’s vassal state and it just doesn’t do military alliances—it doesn’t have any. In fact, many argue that it’s precisely this independence that’s driving the current attempt to contain China. This high level of sovereignty allows China to focus on internal development and to maintain its freedom of action on the international stage.

On stability and prosperity

China is arguably the oldest continuous civilization in the history of humankind. If that’s not stability, I’m not sure what is.

Most surveys done on the Chinese population, even by Western institutions, show that the Chinese population is extraordinarily united and aligned in how they view their system. For instance, the Ash Center for Democratic Governance and Innovation at the Harvard Kennedy School conducted a 13-year-long study interrogating the Chinese population, which they summarized in a 2020 report entitled Understanding CPC (Communist Party of China) Resilience. Their conclusion is, I quote: There is little evidence to support the idea that the CPC is losing legitimacy in the eyes of its people. In fact, the survey found that 93 percent of people in China are satisfied with the Chinese Central Government.

The U.S. and Europe is, of course, a vastly different story. Satisfaction rates with public institutions are, as we all know, at all times low almost everywhere in the West. For instance, in the U.S., public trust in government went from more than 70 percent in the 1960s to a mere 20 percent today. In France, only 28 percent of citizens trust their public institutions. When you ask Americans, an extraordinary 43 percent believe civil war is likely within the next 10 years.

If we talk per-capita GDP or salary levels then obviously the average Chinese citizen is still less prosperous than their Western counterparts. They also obviously started their modern economic development from a much lower base, and much more recently, so the comparison isn’t quite fair.

The right way of looking at it, I believe, is therefore to look at the approach China is taking to make its citizens prosperous vs. the approach the West is taking, and which one is more likely to achieve sustainable prosperity over the long run.

China has spent close to 14 trillion yuan ($2 trillion) of all types of funding dedicated to lifting people out of poverty, roughly what the U.S. spent in the past 20 years in its post-September 11 wars in the Middle East and Afghanistan. This is quite illustrative of the different priorities of the two nations and how they impact prosperity.

To conclude, the Chinese system, with its emphasis on collective freedom, long-term stability, and unwavering investment in itself, has demonstrated its ability to provide a more holistic approach to societal wellbeing. While the American and European systems have their merits, it is the Chinese system’s unique blend of these attributes that ensures its citizens can enjoy greater overall stability, prosperity and freedom.

Giant Handmade Meatball Pies, Sold Out 200 Pies A Day!! – Korean Street Food

https://youtu.be/9orMPDg-hIs

Hackers promise to destroy Europe’s banking system in the next 48 hours.

URGENT!  Several computer Hacker groups, with a long track record of highly effective and devastating computer attacks, have announced “the strongest cyberattack in history” to bring down European Banks within the next 48 Hours.

Several hacker groups are allegedly planning to carry out a large-scale computer attack on the European banking system. As it became known to the

Hacktivists of “Killnet” along with representatives of “Revil” – which was long-considered defeated, as well as members of “Anonymous” say they have joined together to achieve this goal.

Put simply, Russian hackers have declared war on European banks.

According to sources who have seen it, a not yet published promo video dedicated to this attack has already been made. In the video itself, an unnamed representative of “Killnet” allegedly called on all active groups to engage in destructive activities against the European banking system.

“This is not a DDoS attack, the games are over. No money — no weapons — no Kiev regime” — this formula will work,” the masked man promised.

The leader of “Killnet” hiding under the nickname “Killmilk”, confirmed that preparations for the attack are already underway. It is expected to begin in the next 48 hours.

Cyberattack could be the largest in history

The representative of “Revil,” in turn, stated that “the world has gone crazy”, and the reason for this, in his opinion, was money. He also stated that it is the European banking system that governs the EU.

“No money, no problem. Revil is sufficiently familiar with the European financial infrastructure,” the representative of the group threatened.

A member of Anonymous also noted that European financial institutions will witness “the strongest cyberattack in the recent history of the world.” He urged them to be ready for the coming blow, and also stated that when it is struck, “it will be too late to fix anything.”

“Many European banks will be targeted, and we will strike without mercy,” concluded the representative of Anonymous.

VERY CONVENIENT FOR KLAUS SCHWAB AND THE W.E.F.

Klaus Schwab, leader of the World Economic Forum (WEF) has long warned, and recently reiterated, that some type of monstrous, worldwide cyber-attack, would cripple the civilized world, and would be more devastating than an actual war.

Isn’t a a bit convenient for him, that suddenly, these alleged “Hackers” announce “the biggest cyber attack in history?”

MORE: 

Didn’t the United States adopt an official public policy that a Cyber Attack could be met with a military response?

That’s even MORE applicable here . . . look WHO is allegdly announcing this:  “Russian” Hackers.

Oh, gee whiz, how convenient.  NATO is all deployed for their Air Defender 2023 “Exercise” in Europe, and just itching to get involved in the Russia-Ukraine war on the side of Ukraine.

Right on cue, “Russian” Hackers announce a major attacking on the European Banking System while all those NATO troops and planes are deployed right near Ukraine!

If this cyber attack DOES take place, and it DOES take out European banks, NATO might just use that as the basis to claim they have been “attacked” (by Russia, of course) and wham, Article 5 of the NATO Treaty gets invoked, the NATO troops enter Ukraine, and the Russian nuclear missiles fly.

This is all a little too convenient for my tastes.

STILL MORE . . .

Today being Wednesday, 48 hours puts us all at FRIDAY.

Several years ago, weren’t we all warned by various other people, that before TPTB crash the system, the world would suddenly get word about some cyber attack problems with banks?  Didn’t that years-ago warning tell us the attacks would start late in a week, explode on a FRIDAY, taking out the banks for potentially weeks?

Gee, how convenient that today’s announcement by Hackers fits all those details almost perfectly!

Folks, this _____ COULD _____ be the WEF/TPTB doing this.   One would have to have his head in the sand not to see it.

You know the drill: Get some CASH MONEY from the bank – top live on . . . NOT TO PAY BILLS.

If these people do what they are saying, it is entirely ____POSSIBLE____ that bank ATM/DEBIT/CREDIT cards may go offline.  And as Europe goes, so goes America as all the banks are connected worldwide.

So don’t panic — plan.

Remember, fuel up your vehicles, have food, water, medicines, and some cash to live on.  For food, not for Bills.   The Bills can wait if the choice is survival.

UPDATE 8:25 PM EDT —

I found someone on social media who has put up a copy of the Video announcement mentioned above:

Peach Cobbler Supreme

peach cobbler
peach cobbler

Ingredients

  • About 8 cups sliced fresh peaches
  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 2-4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1 teaspoon almond extract
  • 1/3 cup butter
  • Any pastry for a double-crust pie

Instructions

  1. Combine first 4 ingredients in a Dutch oven; set aside until syrup forms.
  2. Bring peach mixture to a boil, reduce heat to low, and cook for 10 minutes or until tender.
  3. Remove from heat; add almond extract and butter, stirring until butter melts.
  4. Roll half of pastry to 1/8-inch thickness on lightly floured surface, and cut into an 8-inch square.
  5. Spoon half of peaches into a lightly buttered 8-inch square baking dish; top with pastry square.
  6. Bake at 425 degrees F for 14 minutes or until lightly browned.
  7. Spoon remaining peaches over baked pastry square.
  8. Roll out remaining pastry, and cut into 1-inch strips to arrange in lattice design over peaches.
  9. Continue to bake for 15 to 18 minutes or until browned.

U.S. B1-b “Lancer” Nuclear Bombers over Germany as Russian Tactical Nukes ARRIVE in Belarus

Two United States Air Force B-1b “Lancer” nuclear bombers are flying in German air space this morning.  One took off from RAF Fairfield in the UK and joined another for a flight near (but not into) Ukraine air space.  This comes as Russian Tactical nuclear bombs are being delivered into Belarus for storage by Russia.

At about 2:00 AM eastern US time, one B-1-b took off from the UK to go to Germany:

B 1 b Departs UK air field
B 1 b Departs UK air field

The aircraft started Squawking over England.

Then, it went on-station over North Sea.

It later moved to on-station over southern Germany.

Now, on-station over northern Germany.

These nuclear bomber aircraft from the U.S. Air Force are flying as Russian Tactical-Nuclear Bombs and Missiles have begun to arrive at Storage and Deployment Sites in Belarus.

UPDATE 12:19 PM EDT —

Both B1-b Lancers headed toward the Black Sea . . . . AND . . . . upon going out over the Black Sea, BOTH planes switched OFF their transponders!!!

Total Stealth mode.

Africa STUNNER! Ditching U.S. dollar for trade Kenyan President’s Announcement Shakes Global Economy

Another Year in China

Was 2022 the biggest year ever?

Jun 15, 2023
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During a visit in 2022, Xi transformed the once-fractious Middle East into a community united around a shared vision. The leaders of Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, the Arab League, Palestine and Lebanon signed thirty-four agreements, among them: KSA can order missiles, helicopters and air defense weapons with a phone call, and no approval necessary; the region will harmonize its plans with the BRI; Huawei will install $30 billion of telecom gear; China will build a $1 trillion regional hub of 21st century industries; Egypt will get a satellite factory; China and the region will unite to liberate Palestine and protect Syria.

2023 06 15 16 40
2023 06 15 16 40

Apart from that..

  • Inflation stayed flat at 2.2%
  • Power generation rose 8%
  • SOE revenues grew twice as fast as GDP.
  • 48 million kids began kindergarten
  • 4.7 million kids earned STEM degrees
  • Chinese universities surpassed American in the Top 500
  • British researchers chose China over US
  • China led in the top 1% of scientific papers
  • 110 cities had 1 Gbps networks (the US has 0)
  • China built four exascale computers
  • Quantum secure smartphones came on the market
  • Mao’s old co-ops sold $1 trillion of food
  • Half of Chinese farms are cooperatives
  • Xi spanked Justin Trudeau on camera
  • Serious crime fell 30% since 2012
  • B-2 bombers left Guam, F-15s left Okinawa
  • 82% supported Dynamic Covid Zero
  • Putin serenaded Xi Jinping at the piano
  • The 1000-mile Grand Canal filled with water end to end.

Southern Crusty Coconut Pie

2023 06 15 11 16
2023 06 15 11 16

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 1/4 cups shredded coconut
  • 1/4 cup butter
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 (9-inch) unbaked pie shell

Instructions

  1. Pour milk over coconut and set aside while creaming butter and sugar together.
  2. Add eggs to creamed mixture and beat well.
  3. Add milk, coconut and vanilla extract.
  4. Pour into an unbaked pie shell.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F for about 30 minutes or until pie is golden brown and firm.

Yield: 6 – 8 servings

This recipe may be doubled to make two pies.

Astroturfing For More War In Ukraine

Fellaraktar🇺🇦@fellaraktar – 14:46 UTC · May 29, 2023As a British citizen I want to say that arming Ukraine is the single best use of tax payer money for decades

My only criticism is that the west aren’t sending enough, fast enough

Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons and daughters

Do more now

Karen Goetz📯🇺🇦 @KarenGoetz362 – 22:18 UTC · May 29, 2023As a German citizen I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of tax payer money for decades. My only criticism is that the west aren’t sending enough, fast enough. Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons and daughters. Do more now!

Oksanna Oricia (Оксана Збігла) 🇺🇦🇨🇦 @Roxanne_Oricia – 1:46 UTC · May 30, 2023As a 🇺🇦 #Canadian I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money in decades.

My only criticism is that the west isn’t sending enough, FAST enough.

Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons & daughters.
#ArmUkraineNow ✊🏼

Thomas C. Theiner @noclador – 4:57 UTC · May 30, 2023As an Italian citizen I want to say that arming Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money for decades.
My only criticism is that the west aren’t sending enough, fast enough.
Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons and daughters.
Do more now!

brit engr 🇬🇧 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🇺🇦 @brit_engr – 8:15 UTC · May 30, 2023As a British citizen, I want to say that arming Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money for decades.
My only criticism is that the West aren’t sending enough, fast enough.
Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons and daughters.
Do more now!

bitiv @bitiv30 – 9:29 UTC · May 30, 2023As a #Romanian citizen, I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money for decades. My only criticism is that the West isn’t sending enough, fast enough. Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of its sons and daughters. Do more now!

Anne @KidsFromUkraine 🌷❤🌻 @AnneFella – 17:03 UTC · May 30, 2023As a 🇳🇱#Dutch citizen I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money in decades. My only criticism is that the west isn’t sending enough, FAST enough. Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons & daughters. #ArmUkraineNow

Thibaud Ochem @Thibaud_Ochem – 18:51 UTC · May 30, 2023As a 🇫🇷 citizen I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money 4 decades. My only criticism is that the West isn’t sending enough, fast enough.🇺🇦is paying 4 political posturing with the lives of their sons & daughters. Do more now! #weapons4Ukraine

MH @Mickhavoc – 1:14 UTC · May 31, 2023As a Canadian citizen I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money for decades. My only criticism is that the west aren’t sending enough, fast enough. Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of their sons and daughters. Do more now

Bogdan Stech @BogdanStech – 22:07 UTC · May 31, 2023As a #Poland citizen, I want to say that arming #Ukraine is the single best use of taxpayer money for decades. My only criticism is that the West isn’t sending enough, fast enough. Ukraine is paying for political posturing with the lives of its sons and daughters.

Well, by now you will have understood the idea …

There are many more such tweets.

In total I count more than one hundred by various NAFO troll accounts. All the tweets were issued between May 29 and June 6.

This is astroturfing on a fairly sophisticated level:

Astroturfing is the practice of hiding the sponsors of a message or organization (e.g., political, advertising, religious or public relations) to make it appear as though it originates from and is supported by grassroots participants. It is a practice intended to give the statements or organizations credibility by withholding information about the source’s financial backers. The term astroturfing is derived from AstroTurf, a brand of synthetic carpeting designed to resemble natural grass, as a play on the word “grassroots”. The implication behind the use of the term is that instead of a “true” or “natural” grassroots effort behind the activity in question, there is a “fake” or “artificial” appearance of support.

I wonder whose taxpayer money gets wasted on it.

Yesterday the Russian President Vladimir Putin had a public talk with war correspondents. Yekaterina Agranovich, a blogger, asked him about ‘western’ propaganda and the people deceived by it. Putin responded:

The information space is a battlefield, a crucial battlefield.So, if someone uploads or writes something and provides an address, this is one thing. However, if there is no address and it is not clear who is writing or speaking, this is a completely different story. You and I are well aware that you can post things online using well-known technical means, and you can make it look like millions of people have seen these videos and commented on them when in fact there is just one person behind it who simply uses modern technology to replicate it endlessly. But, of course, there certainly are people who have a certain frame of mind, and they can express their point of view.

What can we do to oppose this? I think this audience will know what I mean. This can and should be countered not so much by restrictions or administrative or law enforcement constraints, but by effective work in the information environment on our part. And I am really counting on your help.

Well, he did not talk to me. And no, I do not post at Moon of Alabama to help Russia or Putin, but to lay things out as I see them. If that is at times consistent with whatever this or that other public person says, it is likely to be a coincidental and temporary state.

Hat tip: Syriacide

Posted by b on June 14, 2023 at 13:20 UTC | Permalink

Luna: Bring the Moon Along with You

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What beats looking up at a large, illuminated, full moon? Well now, thanks to this brilliant creation known as the Luna Moon Lantern. This dope and rather eye-catching design lets you have that large illumination any time, giving us something quite contagious and rather unique. The design boasts a construction of glass fiber and non-toxic latex.

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2305

The Luna Moon Lantern offers up a brilliant and beautiful way to add light to your life, and certainly adds an eye-catching and artistic appeal to any room in which it’s placed. The design comes in seven different sizes, ranging from the XXS 3.2-inch ball to the XXL 23.6-inches.

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3257

We find a cord and a device that will allow you to adjust its glow. Check out the eye-catching new design in the images below and speak your mind on it after the jump. Looking to add this to your home or office, head over here right now!

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Chinese FM Qin Gang holds phone talks with Antony Blinken

Chinese State Councilor and Foreign Minister Qin Gang had a phone call with US Secretary of State Antony Blinken on June 14 at the latter’s request, clarifying China’s firm stance on core concerns such as the Taiwan question, according to a statement from the Chinese Foreign Ministry.

Qin pointed out that since the beginning of the year, China-US relations have faced new difficulties and challenges, and the responsibility is clear. China has always viewed and handled China-US relations following the principles of mutual respect, peaceful coexistence, and win-win cooperation proposed by Chinese President Xi Jinping.

Qin clarified China’s firm stance on core concerns such as the Taiwan question, emphasizing that [1] the US should respect it, [2] stop interfering in China’s internal affairs, and [3] stop harming China’s sovereign security and development interests in the name of competition.

The Chinese diplomat said he hopes that [4] the US will take practical actions to implement the important consensus reached between the two heads of state at the G20 Bali meeting. As well as [5] the relevant commitments made by the US, move toward China, [6] effectively manage differences, [7] promote exchanges and cooperation, and [8] get China-US relations back on track to healthy and stable development.

Washington continued hyping China-related topics ahead of a reported trip by Blinken to China as the Biden administration said it has “taken diplomatic steps” that slowed China’s intelligence presence overseas following its recent hype over an alleged “Cuba spy base.” The latest US move was criticized  by China on Tuesday as “taking the same page” of the US’ playbook.

This is perhaps the biggest news of the Summer of 2023.

Taken together with previous trends we see some very interesting developments on the Geo-political stage.

A mere two months ago, Macron STUNNED the world when he arrived in China. He surprised everyone when he arrived with hundreds of trade representatives to cut deals with China.

This might not seem like much, but se made a very vocal, and public display of standing up against the United States. While the Untied States (and NATO) were expecting him to “toe the line” and regurgitate the (mindless manta) of “support Ukraine”, “sanction Russia”, “obey the USA or else”, and put pressure on China. Instead, he did the exact opposite, he supported, approved of, and embraced China.

And what can you expect?

The United States was infuriated, the raging up and down Washington DC was legendary.

So of course, the “police dogs” (used to keep the proxy nations in line with Washington dictates) began their disruptions, protests, and assaults. CIA operatives inside of France began their disruptions; their protests, and their threats of “color revolution”…

He didn’t care.

Instead he cut so many deals (with China) that the world was left a spinning. The sheer scope and size was unlike anything anyone expected.

  • Selling over 160 aircraft to China.
  • Joint ventures galore, and many new (BIG) factories to open up in Face to provide hundreds of thousands of jobs.
  • Allowing China to operate it’s Navy and use French bases on the third island chain! (Talk about “throwing a bucket of ice water” on the American neocons)

And so much more.

Nervous Chinese see the good and the threats of all this, but over all, the message is clear.

France is considering leaving the G7 and joining BRICS++. And if it is successful, the “rules based American order” is about to shrink in chunks and bumpy stages. We are (you and I) watching in real-time the repudiation of the American world order, the American USD, and the American LGBQ+ culture.

And France wants a seat at the table.

France, and Africa (both which are French speaking lands) are embracing a multi-polar world as equal partners and turning their collective backs to the shit-show; clown march of collapsed American society, and the massive crime syndicate that it represents.

Oh sure, there are many steps from here to there, and the United States is going to do everything to stop Micron before it’s too late. But as it stands now, France is waving the flag and is will to arrive in the embrace of a new world order.

One where France has a major seat at the table, instead of moldy American table scraps on the floor.

Rustic Southern Sweet Potato Pie

Sweet Potato Pie vs Pumpkin Pie

Sweet potato pies have a very similar taste and texture to pumpkin pie, but I prefer sweet potato pie. Typically a pie made with sweet potato is a little lighter in texture and sweeter with less spice and I think sweet potato pies are more buttery.

Ask any southerner and they will tell you that sweet potato pie is greatly superior to pumpkin pie.

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2023 06 15 11 14

Ingredients

Filling

  • 2 large yams
  • 2 large sweet potatoes
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 1 stick butter (melted)
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 3 tablespoons butter

Dough

  • 3 cups flour
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1 cup whole milk

Egg Wash

  • 1 egg
  • 1 tablespoon milk

Instructions

  1. Filling: In a large pot, boil yams and potatoes for about one hour or until tender.
  2. Drain water and let potatoes cool.
  3. When cool enough to handle, peel skins off and place yams and potatoes in a ricer or potato masher.
  4. In a bowl, combine yams and potatoes, sugar, melted butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and vanilla extract. Mix well.
  5. Dough: Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
  6. In a small saucepan, heat the butter until it turns golden brown. When done, it should have a nutty-like aroma.
  7. Remove from heat and let cool.
  8. In a large bowl, combine flour, salt and sugar, mixing well.
  9. In another bowl, whisk together olive oil, vanilla extract, milk and melted butter.
  10. Pour into the flour mixture and mix with a fork. Dough should hold together. If too crumbly, add ice water, a tablespoon at a time.
  11. Cover and let sit for about a half an hour.
  12. Assemble: On a floured surface, roll out dough to fit a 14-inch round or rectangular baking pan. Place dough on pan.
  13. Spoon filling into the center of the dough, leaving about a 1 1/2-inch border. Gently fold the sides of the dough up and over some of the filling.
  14. Egg Wash: Mix the egg and tablespoon of milk together with a fork.
  15. Coat the bread with egg wash using a pasty brush.
  16. Sprinkle with sugar.
  17. Bake for about 45 minutes or until crust is golden brown.
  18. Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

American society is now fully 100% collapsed. The government still functions at a trivial level, and the people are ignorant of this reality.

Today the theme is pop music from Cambodia.

When I was a boy, perhaps in third grade, my father bought me a cub-scout pocket knife. It was blue and had three blades. I carried it everywhere. It has one big blade that I used to cut branches off of Birch Trees and then suck on the root-beer tasting stems while we hiked in the PA woods. The smaller knife was difficult to get out, and I only used it a couple of times, but the third knife was a can opener, and we used to use it to open up a lid on a can of beans that we would cook over a campfire in the woods.

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knife

Summer is here. I hope that you too are reliving various aspects of your childhood in the fine and fresh seasonal air.

Here’s today’s installment…

Good morning, and welcome to the Global Situation Report for Wednesday, 14 June 2023.

  1. FIRST UP: China pressures Taiwan to lift exchange restrictions
  • People’s Republic of China officials are pressuring Taiwan’s ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) to lift restrictions on student exchanges and cooperation with mainland China.
  • The PRC wants to send 50 students to Taiwan to “enhance mutual understanding, deepen their friendship, and make joint efforts to promote peaceful development of cross-Strait relations.”

Why It Matters: China prefers reunification with Taiwan through Kuomintang (KMT) political success, not military operations. KMT officials have visited mainland China for talks, and remain Taiwan’s pro-reunification political party ahead of next year’s presidential elections. A student exchange is almost certainly aimed at developing pro-reunification sentiment among Taiwan’s youth population, and would likely further enable unconventional warfare operations against Taiwan.


  1. DEDOLLARIZATION: Egypt exits dollar in BRICS trade
  • Egyptian officials announced they’re moving away from the dollar in trade with BRICS countries, and instead will use the local currencies of major trade partners.

Why It Matters: Egypt’s decision to de-dollarize with BRICS is likely a precondition for their joining BRICS+, as India and China have imposed other pre-conditions on prospective members.


  1. DEFENSE HANDBOOK: Taiwanese MoD publishes civilian war-time guide
  • Taiwan’s Ministry of Defense published an updated guide for civilians covering topics such as how to respond to foreign attacks, where to find bomb shelters, and how to distinguish between Taiwanese and Chinese soldiers.
  • The update to last year’s 14-page guide says that Chinese soldiers are likely to be wearing their PLA uniforms, while China’s unconventional forces would be wearing other clothing during infiltration into Taiwan.

Why It Matters: Civilian war-time guides are a common practice, including Cold War-era civil defense guides for Americans. Baltic nations have also published similar guides detailing how to conduct guerrilla warfare and stay-behind operations in the event of a Russian invasion.


  1. MIDDLE EAST: China strikes strategic cooperation deal with Palestinian Authority
  • Chinese officials announced a “strategic partnership” deal with the Palestinian Authority, although neither side released the details of what that entails.

Why It Matters: China has replaced the United States as the region’s top security partner, largely due to U.S. inaction on numerous fronts. Additionally, Chinese officials have proposed peace talks between the Israelis and Palestinians. This strategic partnership could put China in a position to solve the decades-long conflict, following success in negotiating peace between Iran and Saudi Arabia. 


  1. MEDVEDEV: Russia has no reason not to cut undersea cables
  • Russian National Security Council Deputy Chairman Dmitry Medvedev accused the West of complicity in the sabotage of the Nord Stream pipelines, adding that Russia now has “no constraints” on destroying undersea communication cables between the United States and Europe.

Why It Matters: Medvedev continues a long series of incendiary and outlandish comments. Some of his recent outbursts, however, are likely within his authority, which makes this implied threat notable. There are two worst case scenarios here: First, Russia is well within its capabilities to cut these vital undersea cables, which would disrupt global communications and international financial transactions. And second, the U.S. or NATO could target Russian ships suspected of plotting sabotage, causing a new front in the very messy war of narrative and escalating conflict outside of Ukraine.


THAT’S A WRAP: This does it for today’s edition. Thank you for reading. If you know folks who would also like to receive this email, would you please forward it to them? We appreciate you spreading the word. – M.S.

Southern Shrimp Scampi

shrimp scampi
shrimp scampi

Ingredients

  • 3 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 1/4 pounds large shrimp, (16/20 or 21/25 count), peeled and deveined
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1/2 cup white wine
  • 6 tablespoons butter
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Instructions

  1. In a bowl, toss garlic, salt and pepper with the shrimp, which may be refrigerated, well covered, for several hours at this point.
  2. When ready to cook, heat oil in a large sauté pan over high heat until it shimmers, then add shrimp and move shrimp around in the pan for about 2 minutes, or until the color just begins to turn from translucent.
  3. Remove shrimp, reduce heat to medium-high and add wine, scraping up any bits on the bottom of the pan. Cook for a couple of minutes to reduce, then add butter and swirl the pan to melt it.
  4. Put shrimp back into pan, stir about a minute to finishing cooking and add lemon juice.
  5. Remove to serving dish, sprinkle with parsley and red pepper flakes, adding more pepper if desired.
  6. Serve over rice or pasta or as is.

Yield: 2 to 4 servings

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shrimp 2

This happened a long time ago at the AF Academy in Colo. Springs, Colo. The architecture of the Academy was very modern for its time with tall buildings and all glass walls. Some of the class rooms had 18–20′ ceilings and floor to ceiling windows facing East . This design tended to make the class rooms very bright from the early morning sunlight so it was not uncommon for the students to wear sunglasses in the classes.

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A very important mid-term exam in engineering was given in one of these classrooms. The professor was not particularly looking for cheaters as much as just curious of how the students were doing on the test. He walked among the desks during the test.

As he walked, he noticed a lot of students were frequently turning and looking out the windows and then returning to the test. Almost every student in the classroom had on sunglasses. The professor also noticed that almost all the sunglasses were the same brand and style. That was very odd so he began trying to see if this was some kind of cheating.

After studying the students and the room carefully, he could see no outward sign of cheating so he concluded that there was something about those sunglasses. I speculated that they may have cheating information written on the lenses but decided these was unlikely since there simply was not enough room on the small lens of the sunglasses to get more than a few words or numbers plus he could look at the glasses and could not see anything unusual about them.

As the test went on, he finally decided to look at the glasses anyway just to confirm they had no writing on them. He went to one of the students and asked to see his sunglasses. The student was reluctant but obeyed the order. The professor held the glasses and examined them for writing on the frame or lens. There was none. Just before he gave them back to the student, he was curious how well they worked against the bright morning sun coming thru the large wall of windows. He put them on.

When he did, he say large letters and numbers in bold black print written on all of the windows. The writing were all the formulas and data related to the test. When he pulled the glasses off and looked at the windows, there was no visible writing.

The professor stopped the test and dismissed the class. A subsequent investigation discovered that three of the AF Cadets has used an alcohol and salt based liquid poured into a magic marker style pen to write on the windows. The liquid crystallized in such a way as to form a polarizing effect when the liquid dried. The sunglasses worn by the students all had polarized lenses. When viewed thru the sunglasses, the writing appeared. Without the polarized glasses, the windows just looked a little extra sparkly. It wasn’t perfect but it was readable. The windows were effectively a 40 foot by 15 foot cheat sheet.

The three Cadets were discovered. They had sold the glasses to their class mates for $30 each.

SK – រក្សាគម្លាត (Official MV)

Saudi Arabia seeks cooperation with China, ‘ignores’ Western worries — Reuters

Saudi Arabia wants to collaborate, not compete, with China, the kingdom’s energy minister declared on Sunday, saying he “ignored” Western suspicions over their growing ties.

As the world’s top oil exporter, Saudi Arabia’s bilateral relationship with the world’s biggest energy consumer is anchored by hydrocarbon ties. But cooperation between Riyadh and Beijing has also deepened in security and sensitive tech amid a warming of political ties – to the concern of the U.S.

Asked about criticism of the bilateral relationship during an Arab-China business conference, Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman said: “I actually ignore it because … as a business person .. now you will go where opportunity comes your way.”

“We don’t have to be facing any choice which has to do with (saying) either with us or with the others.”

Chinese entrepreneurs and investors have flocked to Riyadh for the conference, which came days after a visit by U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken.

OIL DEALS

In March, state oil giant Saudi Aramco announced two major deals to raise its multi-billion dollar investment in China and bolster its rank as China’s top provider of crude.

They were the biggest announced since Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to Saudi Arabia in December where he called for oil trade in yuan, a move that would weaken the dollar’s dominance.

“Oil demand in China is still growing so of course we have to capture some of that demand,” Prince Abdulaziz said.

“Instead of competing with China, collaborate with China.”

The two nations’ momentum has also raised prospects for a successful conclusion to negotiations for a free trade deal between China and the Saudi Arabia-dominated Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), ongoing since 2004.

Saudi Investment Minister Khalid Al Falih said any agreement would have to protect emerging Gulf industries as the region starts to diversify towards non-oil economic sectors.

“We need to enable and empower our industries to export, so we hope all countries that negotiate with us for free trade deals know we need to protect our new, emerging industries,” Falih said, adding he hoped a deal would soon be struck.

I was in a nice hotel in Japan. I got in the elevator with a young Japanese woman. When the door opened, I waited for her to exit. She did not move.

I gestured for her to go. To my surprise, in perfect English she said

“In Japan, the man always goes first.”

I saw this custom in action, as groups of Japanese were men first and women following behind.

គឺអូន | Sai ft. Tendo & Kamonrath | PlengxYellowLight

By Pe.pe Esco.bar

June 10, 2023

The Hybrid War 2.0 against the Global South has not even started. Swing states, you have all been warned.

U.S. Think Tank Land hacks are not exactly familiar with Montaigne: “On the highest throne in the world, we still sit only on our own bottom.”

Hubris leads these specimens to presume their flaccid bottoms are placed high above anyone else’s. The result is that a trademark mix of arrogance and ignorance always ends up unmasking the predictability of their forecasts.

U.S. Think Tank Land – inebriated by their self-created aura of power – always telegraphs in advance what they’re up to. That was the case with Project 9/11 (“We need a new Pearl Harbor”). That was the case with the RAND report on over-extending and unbalancing Russia. And now that’s the case with the incoming American War on BRICS as outlined by the chairman of the New York-based Eurasia Group.

It’s always painful to suffer through the intellectually shallow Think Thank Land wet dreams masquerading as “analyses” but in this particular case key Global South players need to be firmly aware of what awaits them.

Predictably, the whole “analysis” revolves around the imminent, devastating humiliation to the Hegemon and its vassals: what happens next in country 404, also known – for now – as Ukraine.

Brazil, India, Indonesia and Saudi Arabia are dismissed as “four major fence-sitters” when it comes to the U.S./NATO proxy war against Russia. It’s the same old “you’re with us or against us” trope.

But then we are presented with the six major Global South culprits: Brazil, India, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, South Africa and Turkey.

In yet another crude, parochial remix of a catch phrase referring to the American elections, these are qualified as the key swing states the Hegemon will need to seduce, cajole, intimidate and threaten to assure its dominance of the “rules-based international order”.

Saudi Arabia and South Africa are added to a previous report focused on the “four major fence sitters”.

The swing state manifesto notes that all of them are G-20 members and “active in both geopolitics and geoeconomics” (Oh really? Now that’s some breaking news). What it does not say is that three of them are BRICS members (Brazil, India, South Africa) and the other three are serious candidates to join BRICS+: deliberations will be turbo-charged in the upcoming BRICS summit in South Africa in August.

So it’s clear what the swing state manifesto is all about: a call to arms for the American war against the BRICS.

So BRICS packs no punch.

The swing state manifesto harbors wet dreams of near-shoring and friend-shoring moving away from China. Nonsense: enhanced intra-BRICS+ trade will be the order of the day from now on, especially with the expanded practice of trade in national currencies (see Brazil-China or within ASEAN), the first step towards widespread de-dollarization.

The swing states are characterized as “not a new incarnation” of the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), or “other groupings dominated by the Global South, such as the G-77 and BRICS.”

Talk about exponential nonsense.

This is all about BRICS+ – which now has the tools (including the NDB, the BRICS bank) to do what NAM could never accomplish during the Cold War: establish the framework of a new system bypassing Bretton Woods and the interlocking coercion mechanisms of the Hegemon.

As for stating that BRICS has not “packed much punch” that only reveals U.S. Think Tank Land’s cosmic ignorance of what BRICS + is all about.

The position of India is only considered in terms of being a Quad member – defined as a “U.S.-led effort to balance China”. Correction: contain China.

As for the “choice” of swing states of choosing between the U.S. and China on semiconductors, AI, quantum technology, 5G and biotechnology, that’s not about “choice”, but to what level they are able to sustain Hegemon pressure to demonize Chinese technology.

Pressure on Brazil, for instance, is much heavier than on Saudi Arabia or Indonesia.

In the end though, it all comes back to the Straussian neocon obsession: Ukraine. The swing states, in varying degrees, are guilty of opposing and/or undermining the sanctions dementia. Turkey, for instance, is accused of channeling “dual-use” items to Russia. Not a word on the U.S. financial system viciously forcing Turkish banks to stop accepting Russian MIR payment cards.

On the wishful thinking front, this pearl stands out among many: “The Kremlin seems to believe it can make a living by turning its trade south and east.”

Well, Russia is already making excellent living all across Eurasia and a vast expanse of the Global South.

The economy has re-started (drivers are domestic tourism, machine building and the metals industry); inflation is at only 2.5% (lower than anywhere in the EU); unemployment is at only 3.5%; and head of the Central Bank Elvira Nabiullina said that by 2024 growth will be back to pre-SMO levels.

U.S. Think Tankland is congenitally incapable of understanding that even if BRICS+ nations may still have some serious trade credit issues to iron out, Moscow has already shown how even an implied hard backing of a currency can turn out to be an instant game changer. Russia is at the same time backing not only the ruble but also the yuan.

Meanwhile, the Global South de-dollarization caravan moves on relentlessly – as much as the proxy war hyenas may keep howling in the dark. When the full – staggering – scale of NATO’s humiliation in Ukraine unfolds, arguably by mid-summer, the de-dollarization high-speed train will be fully booked, non-stop.

“Offer you can’t refuse” rides again

If all of the above was not already silly enough, the swing state manifesto doubles down on the nuclear front, accusing them of “future (nuclear) proliferation risks”: especially – who else – Iran.

By the way, Russia is defined as a “middle power, but one in decline”. And “hyper-revisionist” to boot. Oh dear: with “experts” like this, the Americans don’t even need enemies.

And yes, by now you may be excused to roar with laughter: China is accused of attempting to direct and co-opt BRICS. The “suggestion” – or “offer you can’t refuse”, Mafia-style – to the swing states is that you cannot join a “Chinese-directed, Russian-assisted body actively opposing the United States.”

The message is unmistakable: “The threat of a Sino-Russian co-optation of an expanded BRICS—and through it, of the global south—is real, and it needs to be addressed.”

And here are the recipes to address it. Invite most swing states to the G-7 (that was a miserable failure). “More high-level visits by key U.S. diplomats” (welcome to cookie distributor Vicky Nuland). And last but not least, Mafia tactics, as in a “nimbler trade strategy that begins to crack the nut of access to the U.S. market.”

The swing state manifesto could not but let the Top Cat out of the bag, predicting, rather praying that “U.S.-China tensions rise dramatically and turn into a Cold War-style confrontation.” That’s already happening – unleashed by the Hegemon.

So what would be the follow-up? The much sought after and spun-to-death “decoupling”, forcing the swing states to “align more closely with one side or the other”. It’s “you’re with us or against us” all over again.

So there you go.

Raw, in the flesh – with inbuilt veiled threats. The Hybrid War 2.0 against the Global South has not even started. Swing states, you have all been warned.

Glomyy – ស្នេហ៍និងទំនួល Love and Responsible ft. Tendo (Official MV)

I was in the left lane, heading to an appointment, and was torn. I decided I would go back southbound and risk a ticket by going to the turnout. I turned in and the trooper was still there! Yay! He rolled down his window and said “yep! I’m here” to which i told him about the dog and I didn’t want a ticket, but if I could help that dog, it was fine by me. He just asked where the dog was and was on his way! I followed and we found her, still there, panting like she was fixing to die. That trooper dumped his jug out and fashioned a water bowl for her. Then poured a couple bottles of water. The dog was scared of him, but frozen in weakness. She sniffed the water, then realized this kindness was for her! She drank that water down in minutes! The trooper went and got her some more, plus a Little Debbie. She watched him warily the whole time. She sniffed his hand but was still wary. Next thing, he goes to his vehicle and gets a chair and an umbrella. He told me he will stay here until she trusts him, so he can get her to a shelter, or take her home. I believe his being there at the right time, was one of those little messages reminding us of the good in our world. Meet Trooper Tudors of the TN State Highway Patrol. One of the good guys for sure.”

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main qimg 80904ba083ee6adcadcc7f6c3d3e6fc4

Tena – Feel Good ft Tendo

State TV: United States is in Moscow’s Nuclear Crosshairs

A Russian state TV host has warned that if the Ukraine war escalates to a “nuclear phase,” the Kremlin will strike the U.S. with nuclear weapons as it is “in the crosshairs.”

Russian political commentator and president of Russia’s Institute of the Middle East Yevgeny Satanovsky made the warning in a clip that has now gone viral:

This comes on the heels of a very high ranking Russian elected official, Dmitry Medvedev, Deputy Chairman of the Russian Federation Council (Senate) who said “the likelihood of nuclear weapons being used, was growing by the day.”

“In my opinion, concerns about climate change is nothing compared to the prospect of being at the epicenter of an explosion with a temperature of 5,000 Kelvin (scale), a shock wave of 350 meters per second and a pressure of 3,000 kilograms per square meter, with penetrating radiation, that is, ionizing radiation and an electromagnetic pulse,” he said at an educational event in late April, according to Russia’s state-run news agency RIA Novosti.

“Is there such a prospect today? (Unfortunately), yes. And it is growing every day for well-known reasons,” he said.

Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings

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From bestselling author and founder of popular satire blog TheCooperReview.com comes this all-new daily calendar with a year’s worth of tips for succeeding fabulously at work with minimal effort.

You’ll learn familiar corporate strategies for appearing engaged while zoning out, using meaningless buzzwords in the right context, creating impressive presentations of no value to anyone, and much, much more. Each daily page includes a valuable tip for fooling coworkers into thinking that you’re shrewd, engaged, and trying. With this perfect calendar for every office desktop, you’ll laugh each day at the fresh tricks and sly satire on corporate conventions.

Scroll down to see some of the examples from previous years.

More: The Cooper Review, Shop

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27u70

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Chinese Orange Chicken

Chinese Orange Chicken made with crispy fried chicken covered in an authentic orange sauce. The ultimate Chinese Orange Chicken Recipe which is way better than take-out. 

My kids are always begging me to take them to grab Chinese food.  They are obsessed with orange chicken but I am never really sure what’s in it….especially if they get it from a drive-thru. I wanted to create a version at home, made from scratch, with all-natural ingredients. It still has the same incredible flavor they love. It’s definitely a win-win in our home.

It is wintertime in Arizona which means that the citrus is ripe for the picking. I am surrounded by neighbors who have a plethora of fresh oranges and lemons hanging from their trees. This is the perfect time of year to whip up orange and lemon dishes especially this Chinese Orange Chicken.

Chinese Orange Chicken 2
Chinese Orange Chicken 2

This Chinese Orange Chicken is made with boneless skinless chicken breast, cut into bite-size pieces, dredged, and then fried until golden and crispy. The orange sauce is divine! It is a sweet orange sauce made with orange juice, vinegar, garlic, sugar, soy sauce, ginger, red chili flakes, and orange zest. It is both sweet and spicy and full of flavor.

Chinese Orange Chicken 1 crop
Chinese Orange Chicken 1 crop

How to make Chinese Orange Chicken at home:

  1.  Start with boneless skinless chicken breast or thighs.  Cut into bite-size pieces.  Dredge the chicken in whisked eggs and cornstarch/flour mixture until nice and coated. Get these chicken pieces ready for the oil.
  2. To make your homemade orange sauce, place orange juice, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, ginger, and red chili flakes in a small pot and cook over medium-high heat. Add cornstarch and water and cook until thickened. Stir in orange zest.
  3. Heat oil in a heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. When frying foods, it is so helpful to use a thermometer. Let the oil heat up to 350 degrees.  Once the oil is ready, in batches, cook chicken for about 2 minutes until light golden brown.  Repeat with remaining chicken.
  4. Remove from oil and drain on a paper towel-lined plate.
  5. Toss fried chicken with the sweet orange sauce.  Top with grated orange zest and green onions. Serve immediately.

Ingredients

Chicken:

  • 4 Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts cut into bite-size pieces
  • 3 Eggs whisked
  • cup Cornstarch
  • cup Flour
  • Salt
  • Oil for frying

Orange Chicken Sauce:

  • 1 cup Orange Juice
  • ½ cup Sugar
  • 2 Tablespoons Rice Vinegar or White Vinegar
  • 2 Tablespoons Soy Sauce use tamari for a gluten-free dish
  • ¼ teaspoon Ginger
  • ¼ teaspoon Garlic Powder or 2 garlic cloves, finely diced
  • ½ teaspoon Red Chili Flakes
  • Orange Zest from 1 orange
  • 1 Tablespoon Cornstarch

Garnish:

  • Green Onions
  • Orange Zest

Chinese Orange Chicken 5 crop
Chinese Orange Chicken 5 crop

Instructions

  • To make orange sauce:
  • In a medium pot, add orange juice, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, ginger, garlic, and red chili flakes. Heat for 3 minutes.
  • In a small bowl, whisk 1 Tablespoon of cornstarch with 2 Tablespoons of water to form a paste. Add to orange sauce and whisk together. Continue to cook for 5 minutes, until the mixture begins to thicken. Once the sauce is thickened, remove from heat and add orange zest.
  • To make chicken:
  • Place flour and cornstarch in a shallow dish or pie plate. Add a generous pinch of salt. Stir.
  • Whisk eggs in shallow dish.
  • Dip chicken pieces in egg mixture and then flour mixture. Place on plate.
  • Heat 2 -3 inches of oil in a heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Using a thermometer, watch for it to reach 350 degrees.
  • Working in batches, cook several chicken pieces at a time. Cook for 2 – 3 minutes, turning often until golden brown. Place chicken on a paper-towel-lined plate. Repeat.
  • Toss chicken with orange sauce. You may reserve some of the sauce to place on rice. Serve it with a sprinkling of green onion and orange zest, if so desired.

The Chinese Power: 👲🏻 Why They Are Different from Us – Douglas Macgregor

https://youtu.be/MIlzm4Qix6k

Not really, believe it or not, the famous chef entered a London prison to conduct a cooking workshop for inmates for 6 months.

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main qimg b152fbfdb9ef02b1496628ff185b6d1b lq

The UK has a prison population of over 85,000 inmates. Each one costs the state $58,000 a year, and faced with such a situation, Gordon Ramsay decided to do something out of the ordinary, teach prisoners their trade so they can get busy.

To accomplish this, Ramsay dedicated six months of his time to London’s Brixton prison, undertaking the ambitious task of transforming a group of inmates into skilled cooks. The ultimate goal was to enable these prisoners to market their culinary creations internationally through a catering company. By doing so, the prisoners not only earned income for themselves but also made a valuable contribution to the state. It was a venture aimed at providing inmates with opportunities for skill development, financial independence, and a chance to reintegrate into society.

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main qimg 2ec95c33d3aa91b57412682a1c85b22a lq

Born and raised in the United States, my first time to China was in 2016, shortly after I graduated from high school. Since I had studied Chinese for four years and high school, as a gift for graduating my dad decided to take me on a two-week tour of China. To say that this trip was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my lifetime would not be an exaggeration. There were five things that were surprising to me when I visited China and that were entirely different than what the Western media had taught me:

  1. China is a beautiful place. Growing up in the U.S., pretty much all you hear about China is how “ugly” it is. Before I went, I expected the skies everywhere to be dark and clouded, and the air to be difficult to breathe due to all the media coverage that the pollution in China receives. However, when I actually got to China, I was shocked at how beautiful it was. The skies were blue, the cities were clean, and the pollution seemed just as bad as in any other big city that I had visited in the U.S. Not only that, but there were some landscapes in China that were just absolutely stunning. I particularly remember being blown away by the beauty of the countryside views in Guilin, and the massive rock formations on the Guangxi River.
  2. Chinese people are very friendly. In the U.S., it is a common assumption that Chinese people are quite rude. My trip to China proved this assumption to be completely wrong. Every Chinese person that I met was extremely friendly, and they were always excited to approach us either to talk or to get their picture taken with us. It was like being a celebrity! Not only that, but everyone was always willing to try and speak English with us, and were very kind when I attempted to converse with them in Chinese. In my honest opinion, many of the people I met in China were friendlier than many people back home. One person that stands out to me in particular was our rickshaw driver in Beijing. Even though he didn’t speak much English, he still tried to point out all of the sights of Beijing to us the best he could, and even though he had a hard job he always had a big smile on his face.
  3. Authentic Chinese food is good. Back in the United States, it is commonly believed that the food eaten in China is weird, abnormal, and unappetizing. However, all of the food that I ate in China was delicious (my favorite food being from Chengdu), and I actually preferred it to the Chinese food that you can find in America. Yes, there are several cultural differences in the type of food that we eat, but that doesn’t mean that it is bad! While I did see some foods that surprised me, including ants and rats, this was mostly out in the countryside. To any foreigner traveling to China, I would recommend trying as many foods as possible, even if they are a bit out of your comfort zone like they were for me. It’s worth it!
  4. There are people in China who are very rich. Most of what Americans hear about the Chinese is the extreme poverty that they experience. While it is true that we did see many poorer families while on our trip, we also saw a very luxurious side of China that I didn’t even know existed. The area that appeared to be the wealthiest was definitely Shanghai. There were luxury stores (i.e., Gucci. Tiffany’s, Prada, etc.) all over the city, and there were always Chinese people shopping at these stores. Not only that, but there were also always very expensive cars driving around the streets of Shanghai. It was a side of China that I never even heard about back home, and it was great to be able to see how prosperous China has become.
  5. Chinese people love their country. In the United States, it is a common thought that many Chinese people must feel oppressed by their government due to their country not being a democracy. However, while I was in China I saw nothing but pride and love for their country. Through many conversations with Chinese people, it was clear to me that they loved being from China. They had a lot of respect for their history, their culture, and for their government. In fact, it seemed to me that Chinese people had much less negative things to say about their country than many Americans do. This just goes to show that just because you don’t agree with a certain method of government doesn’t mean that the people living in that country have to share the same views as you.

UFO whistleblowers drop BOMBSHELL on D.C. | Redacted with Natali and Clayton Morris

Physics, all top five institutions are Chinese. MIT at number six.

2023 06 14 17 37
2023 06 14 17 37

Chemistry, all top ten institutions are Chinese:

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2023 06 14 17 39

WARRIORS | BALY FT .TOM | REAM PRODUCTION

Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo

Creamy Chicken Broccoli Orzo made with sauteed chicken, fresh broccoli, orzo pasta in a cheesy sauce. This easy Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo Skillet 30-minute meal is creamy and delicious!

Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo 7 crop
Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo 7 crop

Chicken Broccoli Rice Skillet and use orzo in place of rice and everyone goes crazy for this recipe!

Ingredients overview:

This creamy chicken broccoli orzo skillet is super easy to make and uses only fresh ingredients.

Chicken Breast — cut and trim chicken breast into bite-size pieces

Oil — this is to saute the chicken to keep it moist and from sticking to the pan

Salt and Pepper — generously season the chicken breast with salt and pepper

Butter — saute onion and garlic in butter to soften and infuse flavor

Onion — use sweet yellow onion or red onion and saute until tender

Garlic — use minced garlic cloves

Broccoli — cut into small bite-size pieces and saute for several minutes

Orzo Pasta — this is a popular dried pasta that looks similar to rice

Chicken Broth — cook the orzo in chicken broth to infuse it with flavor

Cheese — use a mix of cheddar and parmesan cheese for the best flavor

Fresh Lemon — to add some brightness to the dish, squeeze in some fresh lemon juice

Ingredients

  • 1 Tablespoon Oil
  • 1 lb Chicken Breast (cut into bite-size pieces)
  • 1 teaspoon Salt
  • 1 teaspoon Pepper
  • 2 Tablespoons Butter
  • ½ Onion (finely diced)
  • 4 Garlic Cloves (minced)
  • 1 ½ cups Broccoli (cut into small pieces)
  • 1 cup Orzo Pasta
  • 3 cups Chicken Broth
  • 1 ½ cups Cheese (½ cup of parmesan, 1 cup of cheddar)
  • 1 Tablespoon Fresh Lemon Juice
  • Fresh Herbs (basil, oregano, or parsley)

 

Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo 10
Cheesy Chicken Broccoli Orzo 10

How to make Creamy Chicken Broccoli Orzo:

  1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Cook chicken breast, cut into bite-size pieces, for about 3 minutes per side. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Once the chicken is no longer pink, remove it from the skillet and place the chicken plus the juices on a plate. Cover.
  2. Add the butter, onion, and broccoli to the skillet and cook until softened about 5-7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute longer. Add the orzo pasta and toss to coat. Stir in the chicken broth. Bring to a simmer and cook until the orzo is tender, about 10-11 minutes.
  3. Stir in cheese and stir to melt. Squeeze fresh lemon juice into the skillet and stir.
  4. Top with fresh herbs, if desired, and freshly grated parmesan or Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.

WHAT TYPE OF CHEESE SHOULD I USE IN CHEESY CHICKEN ORZO?

I suggest using a strong cheese like parmesan for its robust and nutty flavor which is so perfect with this chicken and orzo skillet. I prefer to use two types of cheese in this cheesy chicken and orzo and the other cheese of choice would be medium cheddar or Colby jack cheese. You can use any type of cheddar cheese or cheddar combination.

The United States is as ready as it ever will be.

It has an enormous military budget, and bases everywhere. It’s got top of the line fighters, vessels and state-of-the-art equipment. In fact, if anything, I think that it is “over kill”. But that’s just my personal opinion.

The United States military is world-class in force projection, and they will glad-fully take the war to the shores of China and beyond. With the handful of proxy nations acting as “cannon fodder”, the United States would just sit back and watch the Australians and Japanese die in droves. Let them all be barbecued alive. As long as not one American is harmed.

So the United States force doctrine is one where the disposable peoples of Australia, Korea and Japan (with the Philippines) would be sacrificed first.

There is no question that the United States would choose Sydney, and Perth to become major battlefields. And with the rubbleing of Osaka, Tokyo, and Manila, the American military would wait out the carnage comfortably from afar in safe bunkers, Ukraine style.

Eventually, the Chinese force would peter out to an “approachable” level.

At that moment, the United States would pounce for a double “one two” blow that would destroy Chinese cities, and an invasion force in strength would seize the nation. Oh, the fighting might take a decade, but eventually the United States would win, and China would be partitioned into pre-determined bite-sized chunks for organized looting and seizure.

(Some interesting articles on this particular subject. It’s already been divided up! Though, I would advise “don’t count your chickens until the eggs hatch”.)

Anyways, there one teeny-tiny issue.

The only issue is would China really use it’s mass-casualty weapons. That’s of course, the Dong Feng, and the other novel and unique enhanced radiation and wave technologies. You know those massive enhanced radiation city-busters. Those hyper-velocity AI controlled stealth delivery systems, and the invisibility cloaking technologies.

But I am told it doesn’t matter.

As many in the “West” are very confident that “China would never…”.

So, if you (the reader) are part of this clutch, then by all means rest assured that the United States can destroy China, and it couldn’t do anything. The logic is simple. Simply because China has invested such a HUGE portion of it’s military to weapons of MASS DESTRUCTION. Leaving only a fraction of it’s military for conventional warfare. If China decides never to use the nuclear systems, then China would be handicapped to reliance on old-fashioned conventional systems.

So the United States would rip China a new behind.

But…

But…

But…

But, were China to be attacked, I am of the belief that China would use every weapon at it’s disposal. I mean, after all, why devote such a large proportion of your defensive equipment to nuclear and novel systems if you have no plans to ever use them? I figure that even if you have a Bentley in your garage, you do go and take it out for a spin from time to time. Even if that is the last thing that you do before you die.

Thus, the first cities to experience nuclear destruction would be American. I recon complete destruction of the top 35 cities.

This would really throw a monkey-wrench into the plans listed above.

The American “leadership” would be pissed and they (well the ones still alive and not wearing diapers) would order a MAD response. And the nukes would start a flying.

Correct me, if you disagree, but when the dust settles, I don’t think the world would be the same. You might think differently, but I think that nothing will ruin your day faster than global thermonuclear war.

Sigh.

So who ever asked this question, please stop asking about the end of the world. It’s not a pretty image. Go play with your army men elsewhere. War is not a game. It’s real, and very horrible. I strongly advise that it be avoided at all costs.

No one is going to win a US-China war.

គេជាមនុស្សបែបណា [ Ke Chea Mnus Beb Na ] By Eliza

We’re Not Finished

“You give me a piece of ground and a sword and I am going to take back this country with your help and the help of all the homeless Democrats and Republicans who are Americans first.” — Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.

Clusterfuck Nation
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If you’re wondering why our country is lost in lunatic raptures of lawless Lawfare and futile MAGAry, it’s because our economy has already collapsed, and our culture and politics with it downstream have also collapsed into spectacular degeneracy. It has already happened. Maybe you don’t know it.

The business model is broken. We’re a shadow of the industrial economy that won a great war and enjoyed a boisterous peace. You can’t replace ball bearing factories with theme parks and hedge funds. Sorry. The full faith and credit of the USA is not embodied in those frivolities, so our money is losing its mojo fast.

But get this: we will go on. This is not the end of the world or the end of history. It is the end of an era. Believe it or not, the economy will fix itself, it just won’t be what it was in 1957. It won’t be what the techno-supremacists think, either. (You need a dependable electric grid to run all those server farms and the apps they serve, and the AI supposedly looming.) It will fix itself because when things fail, as they are doing now, a lot of opportunities will open up to do things differently, even very differently.

When the chain stores fail along with their twelve-thousand-mile supply lines, Americans will figure out how to find stuff, make stuff, move stuff, and sell stuff at a smaller scale, maybe back on your Main Street (if it’s still there). There will be a lot less stuff, of course. But it may be enough stuff, and some of you will be busy making stuff of some kind. Imagine an economy where practically everybody has a useful role to play. Do you know how much more important it is to lead a purposeful, active life than to be lost in leisure and anomie with more stuff than you know what to do with? Which is where we’re at now, even for many who are statistically “poor.”

When the Happy Motoring colossus tweaks out, we’ll spend less time moving around and more time doing useful things, staying put around the places where we live. We’d be lucky if we could keep some railroads going, but the prospects are not great for that now. Sorry, we blew it. Should have re-started that project in 1970 when the handwriting was on the wall. (We made a lot of bad choices.) Cars and trains require elaborate networks of many interdependent technologies all integrated smoothly at the giant scale — oil, steel, plastics, electronics — and all of that is disintegrating. Pretty soon, you can forget about airplanes, too. That leaves… what? Yes, boats and horses. I know… it sounds inconceivable. Wait for it.

When our grotesque medical racketeering matrix fails, doctors will practice medicine at smaller scale, probably without advanced pharmaceuticals and techno-diagnostics. They’ll open small local clinics while zombies squat in the broken mega-hospitals. You’ll have to pay in cash, whatever form that comes in. You’ll have to take care of yourself, too, but there will be a whole lot less enticing, engineered, toxic crap available to stuff into your body — Froot Loops, Hot Pockets — and the food markets won’t be all that super. There will certainly be less food altogether, but there will be fewer of us to feed, and more of that fewer-of-us will be busy producing that food, one way or another.

That’s the reality I see coming. As you’ve seen vividly, the journey from where we were in, say, the year 2000, to where we’re going has been psychologically disordering at the mass scale. These days, people who ought to know better express ideas that would have gotten them laughed out the room in 1999. The catch is that few of you know that this mass disordering grew out of fear of the journey. It was a phenomenon of infectious mass anxiety over something only dimly apprehended. You just thought it was about bad people.

You’re now faced with the question: how to avoid committing suicide, directly or inadvertently, personally or as a whole society, slowly or quickly? — and its corollary, how to get through the madness in the meantime? Politics happen whether you pay attention to it or not. Politics is concerned with how a society navigates through history. Today, it seems that either A) somebody is steering badly; B) Nobody is steering; or C) some outside force has commandeered the ship’s wheel and is steering for us.

Any way you look at that, we need somebody to steer. Mr. Trump has volunteered to try doing it again. The first time, forces in every quarter of American power set out to bushwhack, sandbag, harass, hector, and hound him. In the process, they just about destroyed the rule of law. Then they simply dis-elected him surreptitiously, something you’re not supposed to say, but there it is, like so much meat on the table. Now they’re trying to hoo-rah him into jail. Whatever you think of his, er, complex personality, you must admire his perseverance through adversity. If he somehow manages to wriggle through the present obstacle course of Lawfare chicanery, his next term would be an extravaganza of retribution. The spectacle would provide much satisfaction but, in the end, it would just be a sideshow, and it is not the same thing as taking care of business.

“Joe Biden,” of course, the man who is not really even there, is only pretending to run for reelection, or at least a coterie around the Oval Office is pretending for him while they try to figure out what to do. They’re in an awful quandary. They hold all the levers of power and they have no other credible candidate, not a living soul, in their own official hatchery.

Outside of that ghastly edifice, Robert F. Kennedy is making a determined flanking move, an end-run near the sidelines. The Democratic Party in all its florid and mendacious lunacy is pretending to not notice him, especially their praetorian news media that is the vector for America’s mass mental illness. Mr. Kennedy put it so simply in April when he announced a run to preside over the stupendous mess that is our government. He said his mission is an experiment to see what happens when you tell Americans the truth. Hold that thought. How long has it been since you thought anything like that was possible?

There’s a broad-based assumption across the land, derived from our fading prime artform, the movies, that Americans can’t handle the truth. Like so much else in our national life, that is probably erroneous… fake truth. And what is so striking in Mr. Kennedy’s performance so far is an absence of fakery. It’s more than refreshing, it’s… startling. Makes you blink, a little bit. Makes you remember what it’s like to not be lied-to incessantly. Makes you want to see more of it because it gives you strength when you thought you were finished. Get this now: our world is changing, and deeply, but we’re not finished.

Banana Pudding

My brother lived in New York City for over 10 years and would rave to me all about the famous Magnolia Bakery’s Banana Pudding. I would seethe with jealousy as I knew he could walk into the bakery every single day and get his banana pudding fix.

Once I finally flew into NYC, we went straight to Magnolia’s to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe you don’t know this about me but I am super picky about bakeries. Okay, you probably could have gathered that by now! I did wonder if this would pass the test. My husband and I devoured the banana pudding in about 90 seconds so I would say that was a good sign.

Even though I love their banana pudding dessert, I wanted to create a similar copycat but make the pudding from scratch. It doesn’t take that much longer and there’s just something about handcrafted pudding, stirred with a wooden spoon, that makes it taste that much better.

This Homemade Banana Pudding Dessert is made by slowly cooking a mixture of whole milk, sugar, cornstarch, egg yolks, butter and vanilla bean until nice and thickened. I could eat an entire bowl of this stuff! It is layered with fresh sliced bananas, Nilla wafers, and homemade fluffy whipped cream.

My sister-in-law, Laura, who is a brilliant cook makes this custard every single year at Thanksgiving time. She is the BEST custard maker I know and this is a tried and true recipe. It is a recipe from her Grandma Rappleye that has been passed down through the years.

This can be made in a large trifle dish, a bowl, a glass pan, decorative jars, or even scooped into small bowls. It is such a versatile recipe. I enjoy layering it into a glass trifle dish or my favorite jars.

DSC 0984 copy
DSC 0984 copy

Ingredients

  • 1 box vanilla wafers
  • 3 bananas
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 3 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 2 cups milk
  • 2 eggs, separated
  • 1 tablespoon butter or margarine
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

  1. In a casserole dish pour about 3/4 of the vanilla wafers. Slice the bananas over that. Set aside.
  2. Mix the cornstarch into the sugar and place in a large saucepan. Add milk and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly.
  3. Beat the egg yolks with a fork and add about 4 tablespoons hot milk/sugar mixture into the yolks, stirring until well blended (this prevents chunks of cooked egg yolk). Pour the yolk mixture into the saucepan and continue cooking over medium heat, stirring constantly until mixture begins to thicken.
  4. Add vanilla extract and butter or margarine.
  5. Pour the pudding mixture over the bananas and wafers.
  6. To make meringue, beat the two egg whites until stiff. Add 3 tablespoons sugar and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Spread over the pudding.
  7. Brown slightly in 350 degree F oven.

Homemade Banana Pudding Recipe
Homemade Banana Pudding Recipe

A few tips for making out-of-this-world Homemade Banana Pudding Dessert:

  1.  Make sure you cook the pudding long enough for it to thicken. It needs to coat the back of a spoon. After cooking, let it chill to give it adequate time to set up. You can find my favorite wooden spoon HERE.
  2. Temper the egg yolks. Adding a small amount of hot milk to the egg yolks brings them to a higher temperature slowly to prevent the eggs from cooking. After the eggs have been tempered, add them to the pan and continue to cook.
  3. Add vanilla beans or pure vanilla extract after the pudding is removed from heat. If added while still on the heat, the vanilla flavor will be cooked off.
  4. Use COLD heavy whipping cream and beat until soft peaks form. Adding powdered sugar brings out the flavor of the cream.
  5. Bananas turn brown over time (oxidation) when exposed to air. Brush the sliced bananas with lemon juice or sprinkle with fruit fresh.

During 2022, Brazil was ranked ninth globally by oil production, ahead of Kuwait and behind Iran, lifting an average of just over 3 million barrels per day. Suppose Latin America’s largest economy is to become the world’s fourth-largest oil producer. In that case, it will need to be pumping more than 4.5 million barrels of crude oil per day so as to overtake Canada, which currently holds that spot.

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2023 06 14 17 45

Brazil’s energy ministry expects the country will be pumping 5.4 million barrels daily by 2029, which is a whopping 80% higher than the 3 million barrels of oil lifted daily during 2022. Consistent year-over-year growth in hydrocarbon production indicates that Brazil indeed possesses the potential to expand production and become the world’s fourth-largest oil producer.

Another key aspect that will support those plans is Brazil’s copious hydrocarbon reserves. According to the ANP, at the end of 2022, Latin America’s largest oil producer held proven or 1P petroleum reserves totaling 14.9 billion barrels, of which 77% were categorized as pre-salt. There are also 21.9 billion barrels of proven and possible or 2P reserves and 27 billion barrels of 3P reserves, known as proven possible and probable reserves.

This illustrates that Brazil possesses considerable hydrocarbon potential and the reserves required to support a significant increase in oil production. Those reserves will keep growing as exploration and development drilling gains momentum, with the Baker Hughes International rig count showing 17 active rigs at the end of May 2023 compared to 11 a year earlier.

“Man attempts to catch woman falling from 11th floor of a building with his bare hands.”

When I first read this story I didn’t know how to react. It seemed like a mixture of pure bravery, selflessness and, honestly, maybe a little stupidity.

This happened years ago, in 2015.

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main qimg 35314f92f607baaed5042e254abbf42d lq

A Chinese man by the name of Feng Ning from Enshi City in central China’s Hubei Province was walking out of a restaurant when he heard screams. He saw a woman falling from a building. He reacted instantly to try to save her. CCTV footage captured him bravely trying to catch the woman before she landed.

But the height of the fall was too great, he could not save the woman. Instead he was knocked unconscious by the sheer force of the collision and suffered a number of injuries. He suffered injuries to his legs including a knee fracture and ruptured ligaments.

Speaking to CCTV+, Li Yanbing, doctor of spinal surgery department, Enshi Central Hospital, said:

He was knocked out by the impact and suffered injuries on his knee joints, and had a tibial plateau fracture. His anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments and the medial ligament have been dislocated.

Feng joined the army as a college student in 2013. He retired in September 2015 after full service. He said his first reaction was saving the woman’s life without considering whether he would be injured. He rushed to attempt to save the woman’s life while other people just watched her fall.

main qimg 57dd35e1c4d2a071afee66a401695e9b lq
main qimg 57dd35e1c4d2a071afee66a401695e9b lq

Feng Ning suffered Knee joint injuries and tibial fractures, along with several ligament rupture. He will undergo surgical treatment. "

However, being a low-income family, Feng's parents can't afford the high treatment fees. Moved by Feng's bravery, many people gave their hands to the young man and have donated more than 15,000 U.S. dollars for his treatment.

“I don’t regret. It’s a shame that I couldn’t save her,” said Feng.

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main qimg 8779da09c282ab61e28b9adcd24bd541 lq

A reality like no other

The repairs on the underlying foundation of our reality universe are about all patched up. Actually, it’s like a map of “rail road tracks” that are embedded in a kind of sticky quantum clay that lies under the template forms.

The instigators were trying to hoe rows into the clay like substance so that the tracks would be followed in great grand circles of many sizes and shapes and configurations.

But the Oompaloomas are just smoothing and polishing away, and the behavior tracks are really smoothed out. Its a good thing. But it will take some time before the templates react to the changes.

In other words, things are good. No worries.

Herman’s Words Of Wisdom | The Munsters

Hillary Clinton Rushed by Ambulance to Emergency Room

3:59 PM EDT — Within the past hour, Hillary Clinton, wife of President Bill Clinton, was taken by ambulance from their home in Chappaqua, NY, to a nearby hospital emergency room.

Sources report that Hillary “was fine one minute, and in serious difficulty the next minute.”  No other details about the sudden and debilitating situation were made available.

I have indeed. I bought a non-running “fake” Rolex at an estate sale. The owner had died approx. a month prior and his kids (who clearly had no interest in being there – they were just trying to avoid a bill from a scrap disposal company) were selling off his possessions and personal effects. I asked about it. “It’s a fake, doesn’t work, two bucks”.

It wasn’t a fake – it was a 1972 Rolex Oyster Perpetual Date (Ref. 1500) with a sunburst grey dial. It simply needed a service and I had it back up and running again in under 4 hours – it kept great time, less than +/- 4 sec. a day. I did have to replace the acrylic crystal as it had a chipped edge, but I had spares in my stock. Being a small watch (34mm), it didn’t suit my wrist so I gave it to my nephew for his high school graduation gift. Should have heard his friends: “Dude, Ben’s uncle gave him a Rolex for graduation!”

These sell in similar condition for around $2500 – $3000 on the used market. Looks like this:

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main qimg c0c2a77a0747235053ac0661379ca836

This is a very good question.

You are right. Fighting China is committing suicide. China is always 3 steps ahead of its adversaries and they cannot be hurt more than them.

Look at Donald Trump’s trade war with China. China wins hands down and the U.S. suffers till today. From 2017–2022 collectively China grew 26.5% while the U.S. grew 6.5%! The U.S. imports of Chinese goods actually grew higher than before the war.

Half a million Americans migrated into the the homeless category and up to 50 million people moved from middle class to the poor category. The life expectancy of China exceeded the U.S. for the very first time in 2021 and repeated the feat in 2022!

Trump would have still be president if not for this trade war. The poor who suffered higher prices resulting from the tariffs voted overwhelmingly against him. While China handled the Covid-19 effectively keeping deaths below 10K the U.S. lost more than a million lives. China opened up at perfectly the right moment when the virus strain has become docile and weak. The U.S. freedom of individualism is greater than collective good of the society hurt them terribly.

China is the biggest consumer by far. Chinese middle class alone is 700 million. And Chinese growth alone is 36.4 share of the world. US and G7 combined adds up to a mere 24.6%. China now represents 30% of world demand but what is more scary 30% of all things made for the world U.S. made in China. So when you fight with China you are cutting off at least 50% of sales opportunities world wide.

Chinese are ready for you if you dare try to attack China. It has a thousand surprises waiting for you. It has now the biggest army, it has more planes, ships and tanks. And it makes the most modern drones and they have 100 times more than the U.S. So crawl back to Beijing and talk politely like what Blinken is trying to do.

Don’t fight China. Work out a plan to be a good partner with China. China is not spoiling for a fight , US is, but China is absolutely ready. You destroy a 1000 homes in China they will destroy the same number of homes in the U.S. you kill a million Chinese they will kill a million Americans in the U.S.

The Beverly Hillbillies⚡️Granny Learns to Drive

https://youtu.be/hqNFFiw90x8

Southern Karo Syrup Chicken

2023 06 13 15 26
2023 06 13 15 26

Ingredients

  • 1 broiler-fryer chicken
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 cup Karo corn syrup
  • 1/2 cup orange juice
  • 3 tablespoons lemon juice

Instructions

  1. Cut up chicken.
  2. In skillet over medium heat, cook chicken in butter about 30 minutes or until tender. Drain off fat.
  3. Mix remaining ingredients and pour over chicken. Cook over medium heat, turning often, for 5 to 10 minutes or until glazed.

WKRP Dr. Johnny Fever Awakens From The Dead

I was born and grew up in Taiwan. In my days, the standard education required that a student memorize more than the amount you mentioned before the time of college entrance exam. Looking back, I see this as both necessary and a blessing. Not unlike classics in other cultures, the Chinese classics is not something you peruse on an as-needed basis the way you consult Wikipedia, but something that has to be internalized and regurgitated in your subconsciousness hundreds of times over decades until it is integrated into your foundation. If you miss the opportunity of learning it by rote at a young age, you lose the chance of having it become a part of your personal makeup, and will at best have a casual and superficial connection to it. From the perspective of a culture, this would not be acceptable. I believe China is not unique in this.

This is especially true with poetry. We memorized a large amount of classic poetry, cream of the crop, early on. They sounded beautiful, but didn’t really speak to me for a long time. It would be much later, at unexpected instants when I ran into them again, and suddenly everything clicked, every word carried power I did not know existed. The experiences were so transformative that I clearly remember the exact settings in which they happened, where I was, what I was doing, who were around, etc. Such experiences would not have been possible if I had not rote-learned these poems a decade earlier as a youngster.

Having said that, as I have mentioned elsewhere on Quora, I must say that all these efforts to instill the Chinese classics into standard learning are a desperate attempt to save an endangered, if not extinct creature. The form of the traditional Chinese culture is preserved by doing this, but it is not clear if the essence, or the spirit, is still identifiable through such efforts. The traditional, self-contained and self-consistent Chinese system could be extremely efficient, creative, harmonious and powerful when it hummed like a well oiled machine. Our only, but indisputable, evidence of this are hundreds of powerful characters it was able to generate, capable of accomplishing impossible feats in the face of insurmountable challenge and adversity. But that self-contained and self-consistent system is no longer known to us. We no longer know how it looked or felt. The best we have now is the system of rote learning as documented in texts, which was far from the real thing.

But it is still much better than nothing at all. It could be worse.

Blind dates haven’t changed in 50 years

Beijing, Wellington to push for pragmatic cooperation

Beijing expressed its willingness to maintain high-level exchanges with Wellington and to enhance mutual trust and bilateral pragmatic cooperation as New Zealand Prime Minister Chris Hipkins announced on Monday that he would visit China at the end of June.

Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Wang Wenbin did not confirm the date of Hipkins’ visit, but told reporters to “stay tuned” for further information.

Hipkins said he would lead a major trade delegation to Beijing, Tianjin and Shanghai, which will be the first visit by a New Zealand prime minister to China since COVID-19.

Relations with China are among New Zealand’s “most significant, wide-ranging and complex” bilateral ties, The New Zealand Herald quoted Hipkins as saying. “We have a robust, ongoing dialogue with China,” he said.

Calling China and New Zealand “important cooperation partners”, Wang said he expects the two nations to achieve greater progress in bilateral relations and bring more benefit to the two peoples.

China is the largest trading partner, export market and source of imports for New Zealand. In 2022, bilateral trade volume in goods reached $25.15 billion, a year-on-year increase of 1.8 percent, according to the Foreign Ministry.

Journalist visas with India

In another development, the Foreign Ministry spokesman urged India to meet China halfway regarding arrangements for journalists.

“Media outlets are important bridges for mutual understanding and friendly relations. China stands ready to maintain communication with India under the principles of mutual respect, equality and mutual benefit. We hope India will work in the same direction with China,” Wang said.

Since 2020, India has refused to review and approve Chinese journalists’ visa applications, and limited the period of validity of visas held by Chinese journalists in India to only three months or even a month. Some Chinese journalists waited as long as three years for their visas, according to Wang.

As a result, the number of Chinese journalists stationed in India has plummeted from 14 to just one, he said.

The Indian side still has not agreed to renew the visa of the last Chinese journalist in the country. For Indian media outlets, four have been stationed in China in recent years and one is still working and living in China, Wang said.

“China has treated Indian journalists as friends and like family. We have communicated with the Indian side with restraint and goodwill. Regrettably, India has yet to take any action to address the problem,” he said.

The spokesman urged India to “scrap undue restrictions on Chinese journalists”, and effectively review and approve their visas as soon as possible, in order “to create conditions for resuming normal exchanges between Chinese and Indian media”.

 

MOMOLAND – BBOOM BBOOM

What does U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken think about Chinese diplomats’ negotiation skills?

Antony (the idiot) Blinkin?

2023 06 13 16 01
2023 06 13 16 01

Who the fuck cares what this train-wreck thinks? I mean, I could somehow give him some deference, but getting to be Secretary of States through butt-fucking isn’t high on my idea of achievement awards. The only thing that he brings to the table is an almost magical ability to fuck things up in spades. I mean when you spell disaster, you spell it B-L-I-N-K-I-N.

But, so much for his good points.

It’s common knowledge that he learned geography and Geo-politics by reading the instructions on the back of the free LGBQ+ condoms handed out to the homeless. And his opinions of others is difficult to gauge, as he doesn’t recognize that anyone else in the world exists. He’s me-me-me-me all the time, with no consideration of the thoughts, needs or feelings of others.

A perfect example of his exclusivity of penis wagging is his first meeting in Anchorage, Alaska with the Chinese diplomatic staff. His opening words were nothing short of acute diarrhea, vomited out with a speed of ill-mannered excess that astounded even the murders on death row have stayed in shock by.

It does not matter what this over-grown pustule of human feces thinks.

The Chinese diplomatic corps are giants compared tho this sniveling and breathing abomination. He is incapable of any form of communication. He only knows how to piss on the carpet and shit in his diaper. His ability to be butt-fucked may be legendary, but is useless on the grand scheme of things.

But I will say ONE good this about this festering, sniveling, pile of pestilence.

He hasn’t YET got the United States and China in a nuclear war. But, give him time. He’s one walking cluster-fuck if there ever was one.

Biden Is ‘In Denial’ Over Collapse Of Empire – Economist Richard Wolff

Southern Pan-Fried Chicken

A country ham (such as a “Smithfield” ham) is salt-cured, smoked and aged well. Whole country hams are expensive; it is possible, however, to buy country ham steaks. But you may also substitute thick-cut, smoked, streaky bacon for the ham in this recipe.

2023 06 13 15 28
2023 06 13 15 28

Ingredients

  • 2 quarts cold water
  • 1/2 cup kosher salt (regular table salt will make the brine too salty)
  • 1 (3 pound) chicken, cut into 8 pieces
  • 1 quart buttermilk
  • 1 pound lard
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
  • 1/2 cup country ham pieces, or 1 thick slice country ham, cut into 1/2-inch strips (see note)
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

  1. Combine the water and the salt, stirring until salt is dissolved.
  2. Place the chicken pieces in a bowl and pour the salt water over.
  3. Cover and refrigerate for 8-12 hours.
  4. Drain the chicken and rinse out the bowl it was brined in.
  5. Return the chicken to the bowl, pour the buttermilk over and cover and refrigerate 8-12 hours.
  6. Drain the chicken on a wire rack, discarding the buttermilk.
  7. Meanwhile, prepare the fat for frying: put the lard, butter and country ham into a heavy skillet or frying pan. Cook over low heat for 30-45 minutes, skimming as needed, until the butter ceases to throw off foam and the ham is browned.
  8. Use a slotted spoon to remove the ham carefully from the fat. (Reserve the fried ham for another use, such as snacking.)
  9. Just before frying, increase the temperature to medium-high and heat the fat to 335 degrees F.
  10. Blend together the flour, cornstarch, salt and pepper in a shallow bowl or on wax paper.
  11. Dredge the drained chicken pieces thoroughly in the flour mixture, then pat well to remove any excess flour.
  12. Slip some of the chicken pieces, skin-side-down, into the heated fat. Do not overcrowd the pan; fry in batches, if necessary. Cook for 8-10 minutes on each side, until the chicken is golden brown and cooked through.
  13. Drain thoroughly on a wire rack or on crumpled (not flat) paper towels. Serve hot, warm or at room temperature.

WKRP Venus’ 1st Day

Did Russia Destroy The Nova Kakhova Dam?

Propaganda will tell you that Russia detonated the Nova Kakhova Dam which was and is under its control. It thereby allegedly cut of Crimea from its major water supply and endangered the cooling of the six reactors of the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant. The island as well as the power plant are under firm Russian control.

Well, so you can believe that. Or you can look for some facts hidden behind such ‘news’.

Battles Rage as Ukraine Tries to Retake Russian-Occupied Territory – New York Times – June 9, 2023

Experts say the dam, which was held by Russian forces, was probably destroyed by an intentional explosion within the massive structure. They say an explosion from the outside, like a missile strike, or a structural failure caused by earlier war damage and high water spilling over the top, were conceivable causes but far less likely.

Ukraine Claims More Small Advances in Counteroffensive, but No Breakthroughs – New York Times – June 12, 2023

Engineering and munitions experts have said that the dam was probably breached by an explosion from the inside, not by shelling or other external attacks, and not by a structural failure.

Britain has delivered long-range ‘Storm Shadow’ cruise missiles to Ukraine ahead of expected counteroffensive, sources say – CNN – May 12, 2023

The United Kingdom has delivered multiple “Storm Shadow” cruise missiles to Ukraine, giving the nation a new long-range strike capability in advance of a highly anticipated counteroffensive against Russian forces, multiple senior Western officials told CNN.

Storm Shadow – Wikipedia

The Storm Shadow’s BROACH warhead features an initial penetrating charge to clear soil or enter a bunker, then a variable delay fuze to control detonation of the main warhead. Intended targets are command, control and communications centres; airfields; ports and power stations; ammunition management and storage facilities; surface ships and submarines in port; bridges and other high value strategic targets.


“Two stage warhead punctures external shell, then detonates inside target”

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Storm Shadown – Federation of American Scientists

When engaging hard targets, such as Hardened Aircraft Shelters or bunkers, the missile will strike the target at the estimated optimum dive angle, selected during mission planning. On impact the detonation sequence commences. The precursor charge will perforate the target structure, and any soil covering, and the follow through penetrator warhead will continue to penetrate inside the target to be detonated after a preselectable fuse delay.

Posted by b at 5:30 UTC | Comments (12)

“This is the 2nd phase of UFO disclosure” – Dr. Michael Salla confirms UFO whistleblower story

Complex Systems Won’t Survive the Competence Crisis

From HERE
.

At a casual glance, the recent cascades of American disasters might seem unrelated. In a span of fewer than six months in 2017, three U.S. Naval warships experienced three separate collisions resulting in 17 deaths. A year later, powerlines owned by PG&E started a wildfire that killed 85 people. The pipeline carrying almost half of the East Coast’s gasoline shut down due to a ransomware attack. Almost half a million intermodal containers sat on cargo ships unable to dock at Los Angeles ports. A train carrying thousands of tons of hazardous and flammable chemicals derailed near East Palestine, Ohio. Air Traffic Control cleared a FedEx plane to land on a runway occupied by a Southwest plane preparing to take off. Eye drops contaminated with antibiotic-resistant bacteria killed four and blinded fourteen.

While disasters like these are often front-page news, the broader connection between the disasters barely elicits any mention. America must be understood as a system of interwoven systems; the healthcare system sends a bill to a patient using the postal system, and that patient uses the mobile phone system to pay the bill with a credit card issued by the banking system. All these systems must be assumed to work for anyone to make even simple decisions. But the failure of one system has cascading consequences for all of the adjacent systems. As a consequence of escalating rates of failure, America’s complex systems are slowly collapsing.

The core issue is that changing political mores have established the systematic promotion of the unqualified and sidelining of the competent. This has continually weakened our society’s ability to manage modern systems. At its inception, it represented a break from the trend of the 1920s to the 1960s, when the direct meritocratic evaluation of competence became the norm across vast swaths of American society.

In the first decades of the twentieth century, the idea that individuals should be systematically evaluated and selected based on their ability rather than wealth, class, or political connections, led to significant changes in selection techniques at all levels of American society. The Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) revolutionized college admissions by allowing elite universities to find and recruit talented students from beyond the boarding schools of New England. Following the adoption of the SAT, aptitude tests such as Wonderlic (1936), Graduate Record Examination (1936), Army General Classification Test (1941), and Law School Admission Test (1948) swept the United States. Spurred on by the demands of two world wars, this system of institutional management electrified the Tennessee Valley, created the first atom bomb, invented the transistor, and put a man on the moon.

By the 1960s, the systematic selection for competence came into direct conflict with the political imperatives of the civil rights movement. During the period from 1961 to 1972, a series of Supreme Court rulings, executive orders, and laws—most critically, the Civil Rights Act of 1964—put meritocracy and the new political imperative of protected-group diversity on a collision course. Administrative law judges have accepted statistically observable disparities in outcomes between groups as prima facie evidence of illegal discrimination. The result has been clear: any time meritocracy and diversity come into direct conflict, diversity must take priority.

The resulting norms have steadily eroded institutional competency, causing America’s complex systems to fail with increasing regularity. In the language of a systems theorist, by decreasing the competency of the actors within the system, formerly stable systems have begun to experience normal accidents at a rate that is faster than the system can adapt. The prognosis is harsh but clear: either selection for competence will return or America will experience devolution to more primitive forms of civilization and loss of geopolitical power.

From Meritocracy to Diversity

The first domino to fall as Civil Rights-era policies took effect was the quantitative evaluation of competency by employers using straightforward cognitive batteries. While some tests are still legally used in hiring today, several high-profile enforcement actions against employers caused a wholesale change in the tools customarily usable by employers to screen for ability.

After the early 1970s, employers responded by shifting from directly testing for ability to using the next best thing: a degree from a highly-selective university. By pushing the selection challenge to the college admissions offices, selective employers did two things: they reduced their risk of lawsuits and they turned the U.S. college application process into a high-stakes war of all against all. Admission to Harvard would be a golden ticket to join the professional managerial class, while mere admission to a state school could mean a struggle to remain in the middle class.

This outsourcing did not stave off the ideological change for long. Within the system of political imperatives now dominant in all major U.S. organizations, diversity must be prioritized even if there is a price in competency. The definition of diversity varies by industry and geography. In elite universities, diversity means black, indigenous, or Hispanic. In California, Indian women are diverse but Indian men are not. When selecting corporate board members, diversity means “anyone who is not a straight white man.” The legally protected and politically enforced nature of this imperative renders an open dialogue nearly impossible.

However diversity itself is defined, most policy on the matter is based on a simple premise: since all groups are identical in talent, any unbiased process must produce the same group proportions as the general population, and therefore, processes that produce disproportionate outcomes must be biased. Prestigious journals like Harvard Business Review are the first to summarize and parrot these views, which then flow down to reporting by mass media organizations like Bloomberg Businessweek. Soon, it joins McKinsey’s “best practices” list and becomes instantiated in corporate policies.

Unlike accounting policies, which emanate from the Financial Accounting Standards Board and are then implemented by Chief Financial Officers, the diversity push emanates inside of organizations from multiple power centers, each of which joins in for independent reasons. CEOs push diversity policies primarily to please board members and increase their status. Human Resources (HR) professionals push diversity policies primarily to avoid anti-discrimination lawsuits. Business development teams push diversity to win additional business from diversity-sensitive clients (e.g. government agencies). Employee Resource Groups (ERGs), such as the Black Googler Network, push diversity to help their in-group in hiring and promotion decisions.

Diversity in Theory and Practice

In police academies around the country, new recruits are taught to apply an escalation of force algorithm with non-compliant subjects: “Ask, Tell, Make.” The idea behind “Ask, Tell, Make” is to apply the least amount of force necessary to achieve the desired level of compliance. This is the means by which police power, which is ultimately backed by significant coercive force, can maintain an appearance of voluntary compliance and soft-handedness. Similarly, the power centers inside U.S. institutions apply a variant of “Ask, Tell, Make” to achieve diversity in their respective organizations.

The first tactics for implementing diversity imperatives are the “Ask” tactics. These simply ask all the members of the organization to end bias. At this stage, the policies seem so reasonable and fair that there will rarely be much pushback. Best practices such as slating guidelines are a common tool at this stage. Slating guidelines require that every hiring process must include a certain number and type of diverse candidates for every job opening. Structured interviews are another best practice that requires interviewers to stick with a script to minimize the chance of uncovering commonalities between the interviewer and interviewee that might introduce bias. Often HR will become involved in the hiring process, specifically asking the hiring manager to defend their choice not to hire a diverse candidate. Because the wrong answer could result in shaming, loss of advancement opportunities, or even termination, the hiring manager can often be persuaded to prioritize diversity over competence.

Within specialized professional services companies, senior-level recruiting will occasionally result in a resume collection where not a single diverse candidate meets the minimum specifications of the job. This is a terrible outcome for the hiring manager as it attracts negative attention from HR. At this point, firms will often retain an executive search agency that focuses on exclusively diverse candidates. When that does not result in sufficient diversity, roles will often have their requirements diluted to increase the pool of diverse candidates.

For example, within hedge funds, the ideal entry-level candidate might be an experienced former investment banker who went to a top MBA program. This preferred pedigree sets a minimum bar for both competence and work ethic. This first-pass filter enormously winnows the field of underrepresented candidates. To relax requirements for diversity’s sake, this will be diluted in various ways. First, the work experience might be stripped. Next, the role gets offered to MBA interns. Finally, fresh undergraduates are hired into the analyst role. Dilution works not just because of the larger field of candidates it allows for but also because the Harvard Admission Office of 2019 is even more focused on certain kinds of diversity than the Harvard Admission Office of 2011 was.

This dilution is not costless; fewer data points result in a wider range of outcomes and increase the risk of a bad hire. All bad hires are costly but bad hires that are diverse are even worse. The risk of a wrongful termination lawsuit either draws out the termination process for diverse hires or results in the firm adjusting by giving them harmless busy work until they leave of their own volition—either way, a terrible outcome for the organizations which hired them.

If these “Ask” tactics do not achieve enough diversity, the next step in the escalation is to attach carrots and sticks to directly tell decision-makers to increase the diversity of the organization. This is the point at which the goals of diversity and competence truly begin displaying significant tension between each other. The first step is the implementation of Key Performance Indicators (KPI) linked to diversity for all managers. Diversity KPIs are a tool to embarrass leaders and teams that are not meeting their diversity targets. Given that most organizations are hierarchical and pyramidal, combined with the fact that America was much whiter 50 years ago than it was today, it is unsurprising that senior leadership teams are less diverse than America as a whole—and, more pertinently, than their own junior teams.

The combination of a pyramid-shaped org chart and a senior leadership team where white men often make up 80 percent or more of the team means that the imposition of an aggressive KPI sends a message to the layer below them: no white man in middle management will likely ever see a promotion as long as they remain in the organization. This is never expressed verbally. Rather, those overlooked figure it out as they are passed over continually for less competent but more diverse colleagues. The result is demoralization, disengagement, and over time, departure.

While all the aforementioned techniques fall into the broad category of affirmative action, they primarily result in slightly tilting the scale toward diverse candidates. The next step is simply holding different groups to different standards. Within academia, the recently filed Students for Fair Admissions v. President and Fellows of Harvard College lawsuit leveraged data to show the extent to which Harvard penalizes Asian and white applicants to help black and Hispanic applicants. The UC System, despite formally being forbidden from practicing affirmative action by Proposition 209, uses a tool called “comprehensive admission” to accomplish the same goal.

The latest technique, which was recently brought to light, shows UC admissions offices using the applicants’ high schools as a proxy for race to achieve their desired goal. Heavily Asian high schools such as Arcadia—which is 68 percent Asian—saw their UC-San Diego acceptance rate cut from 37 percent to 13 percent while the 99-percent-Hispanic Garfield High School saw its UC-San Diego acceptance rate rise from 29 percent to 65 percent.

The preference for diversity at the college faculty level is similarly strong. Jessica Nordell’s End of Bias: A Beginning heralded MIT’s efforts to increase the gender diversity of its engineering department: “When applications came in, the Dean of Engineering personally reviewed every one from a woman. If departments turned down a good candidate, they had to explain why.”

When this was not enough, MIT increased its gender diversity by simply offering jobs to previously rejected female candidates. While no university will admit to letting standards slip for the sake of diversity, no one has offered a serious argument why the new processes produce higher or even equivalent quality faculty as opposed to simply more diverse faculty. The extreme preference for diversity in academia today explains much of the phenomenon of professors identifying with a minor fraction of their ancestry or even making it up entirely.

During COVID-19, the difficulty of in-person testing and online proctoring created a new mechanism to push diversity at the expense of competency: the gradual but systematic elimination of standardized tests as a barrier to admission to universities and graduate schools. Today, the majority of U.S. colleges have either stopped requiring SAT/ACT scores, no longer require them for students in the top 10 percent of their class, or will no longer consider them. Several elite law schools, including Harvard Law School, no longer require the LSAT as of 2023. With thousands of unqualified law students headed to a bar exam that they are unlikely to pass, the National Conference of Bar Examiners is already planning to dilute the bar exam under the “NextGen” plan. Specifically, “eliminat[ing] any aspects of our exams that could contribute to performance disparities” will almost definitionally reduce the degree to which the exam tests for competency.

Similarly, standards used to select doctors have also been weakened to promote diversity. Programs such as the City College of New York’s BS/MD program have eliminated the MCAT requirement. With the SAT now optional, new candidates can go straight from high school to the United States Medical Licensing Examination Step 1 exam in medical school without having gone through any rigorous standardized test whose score can be compared across schools. Step 1 scores were historically the most significant factor in the National Residency Matching Program, which pairs soon-to-be doctors with their future residency training programs. Because Step 1 scores serve as a barrier to increasing diversity, they have been made pass/fail. A handful of doctors are speaking out about the dangers of picking doctors based on factors other than competency but most either explicitly prefer diversity or else stay silent, concerned about the career-ending repercussions of pointing out the obvious.

When even carrot and stick incentives and the removal of standards do not achieve enough diversity, the end game is to simply make decision-makers comply. “Make” has two preferred implementations: one is widely discussed and the other is, for obvious reasons, never disclosed publicly. The first method of implementation is the application of quotas. Quotas or set-asides require the reservation of admissions slots, jobs, contracts, board seats, or other scarce goods for women and members of favored minority groups. Government contracts and supplier agreements are explicitly awarded to firms that have acronyms such as SB, WBE, MBE, DBE, SDB, VOSB, SDVOSB, WOSB, HUB, and 8(a).

Within large employers and government contractors, quotas are used for both hiring and promotions, requiring specific percentages of hiring or promotions to be reserved for favored groups. During the summer of 2020, the CEO of Wells Fargo, was publicly shamed after his memo blaming the underrepresentation of black senior leaders on a “very limited pool” of black talent was leaked to Reuters. Less than a month later, the bank publicly pledged to reserve 12 percent of leadership positions for black candidates and began tying executive compensation to reaching diversity goals. In 2022, Goldman Sachs extended quotas to the capital markets by adopting a policy to avoid underwriting IPOs of firms without at least two board members that are not straight white men.

When diversity still refuses to rise to acceptable levels, the remaining solution is the direct exclusion of non-diverse candidates. While public support for anti-discrimination laws and equal opportunity laws is high, public support for affirmative action and quotas is decidedly mixed. Hardline views such as those expressed in author Ijeoma Oluo’s Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America—namely that any white man in a position of power perpetuates a system of white male domination”—are still considered extreme, even within U.S. progressive circles.

As such, when explicit exclusion is used to eliminate groups like white men from selection processes, it is done subtly. Managers are told to sequester all the resumes from “non-diverse” candidates—that is, white males. These resumes are discarded and the candidates are sent emails politely telling them that “other candidates were a better fit.” While some so-called “reverse discrimination” lawsuits have been filed, most of these policies go unreported. The reasons are straightforward; even in 2023, screening out all white men is not de jure legal. Moreover, any member of the professional managerial class who witnesses and reports discrimination against white men will never work in their field again.

Even anonymous whistleblowing is likely to be rare. To imagine why, suppose incontrovertible evidence was produced that one’s employer was explicitly excluding white male candidates, and a lawsuit was filed. The employer’s reputation and the reputation of all the employees there, including the white men still working there, would be tarnished. That said, we can expect to see more lawsuits from men who feel they have little to lose.

This “Ask, Tell, Make” framework, under various descriptions, is the method by which individuals with a vested interest in more diversity push their organizations toward their preferred outcome. Force begins requesting modest changes to recruiting to make it “more fair.” Force ends with the heavy-handed application of quotas and even exclusion. The American system is not a monolith, however, which means that the strength of the push and its effects on competency is not distributed evenly.

Competency Is Declining From the Core Outwards

Think of the American system as a series of concentric rings with the government at the center. Directly surrounding that are the organizations that receive government funds, then the nonprofits that influence and are subject to policy, and finally business at the periphery. Since the era of the Manhattan Project and the Space Race, the state capacity of the federal government has been declining almost monotonically.

While this has occurred for a multitude of reasons, the steel girders supporting the competency of the federal government were the first to be exposed to the saltwater of the Civil Rights Act and related executive orders. Government agencies, which are in charge of overseeing all the other systems, have seen the quality of their human capital decline tremendously since the 1960s. While the damage to an agency like the Department of Agriculture may have long-term deadly consequences, the most immediate danger is at safety-critical agencies like the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA).

The Air Traffic Control (ATC) system used in the U.S. relies on an intricate dance of visual or radar observation, transponders, and radio communication, all with the incredible challenge of keeping thousands of simultaneously moving planes from ever crashing into each other. Since air controlling is one of the only jobs that pays more than $100,000 per year and does not require a college diploma, it has been a popular career choice for individuals without a degree who nonetheless have an exceptionally good memory, attention span, visuospatial awareness, and logical skills. The Air Traffic Selection and Training (AT-SAT) Exam, a standardized test of those critical skills, was historically the primary barrier to entry for air controllers. As a consequence of the AT-SAT, as well as a preference for veterans with former air controller experience, 83 percent of air controllers in the U.S. were white men as of 2014.

That year, the FAA added a Biographical Questionnaire (BQ) to the screening process to tilt the applicant pool toward diverse candidates. Facing pushback in the courts from well-qualified candidates who were screened out, the FAA quietly backed away from the BQ and adopted a new exam, the Air Traffic Skills Assessment (ATSA). While the ATSA includes some questions similar to those of the BQ, it restored the test’s focus on core air traffic skills. The importance of highly-skilled air controllers was made clear in the most deadly air disaster in history, the 1977 Tenerife incident. Two planes, one taking off and one taxiing, collided on the runway due to confusion between the captain of KLM 4805 and the Tenerife ATC. The crash, which killed 583 people, resulted in sweeping changes in aviation safety culture.

Recently, the tremendous U.S. record for air safety established since the 1970s has been fraying at the edges. The first three months of 2023 saw nine near-miss incidents at U.S. airports, one with two planes coming within 100 feet of colliding. This terrifying uptick from years prior resulted in the FAA and NTSB convening safety summits in March and May, respectively. Whether they dared to discuss root causes seems unlikely.

Given the sheer size of the U.S. military in both manpower and budget dollars, it should not come as a surprise that the diversity push has also affected the readiness of this institution. Following three completely avoidable collisions of U.S. Navy warships in 2017 and a fire in 2020 that resulted in the scuttling of USS Bonhomme Richard, a $750 million amphibious assault craft, two retired marines conducted off-the-record interviews with 77 current and retired Navy officers. One recurring theme was the prioritization of diversity training over ship handling and warfighting preparedness. Many of them openly admit that, given current issues, the U.S. would likely lose an open naval engagement with China. Instead of taking the criticism to heart, the Navy commissioned “Task Force One Navy,” which recommended deemphasizing or eliminating meritocratic tests like the Officer Aptitude Rating to boost diversity. Absent an existential challenge, U.S. military preparedness is likely to continue to degrade.

The decline in the capacity of government contractors is likewise obvious, with the largest contractors being the most directly impacted. The five largest contractors—Lockheed Martin, Boeing, General Dynamics, Raytheon Company, and Northrop Grumman—will all struggle to maintain competency in the coming years.

Boeing, one of only two firms globally capable of mass-producing large airliners, has a particularly striking crisis unfolding in its institutional culture. Shortly after releasing the 737 MAX, 346 people died in two nearly identical 737 MAX crashes in Indonesia and Ethiopia. The cause of the crashes was a complex interaction between design choices, cost-cutting led by MBAs, FAA issues, the MCAS flight-control system, a faulty sensor, and pilot training. Meanwhile, on the defense side of the business, Boeing’s new fuel tanker, the KC-46A Pegasus is years behind on deliveries due to serious technical flaws with the fueling system along with multiple cases of Foreign Object Debris left inside the plane during construction: tools, a red plastic cap, and in one case, even trash. Between the issues at ATC and Boeing, damage to the U.S.’s phenomenal aviation safety record seems almost inevitable.

After government contractors, the next-most-affected class of institutions are nonprofit organizations. They are entrapped by the government whose policies they are subject to and trying to influence, the opinions of their donor base, and lack of any profit motive. The lifeblood of nonprofits is access to capital, either directly in the form of government grants or through donations that are deemed tax-deductible. Accessing federal monies means being subject to the full weight of U.S. diversity rules and regulations. Nonprofits are generally governed by boards whose members tend to overlap with the list of major donors. Because advocacy for diversity and board memberships are both high-status positions, unsurprisingly board members tend to voice favorable opinions of diversity, and those opinions flow downstream to the organizations they oversee.

Nonprofits—including universities, charities, and foundations—exist in an overlapping ecosystem with journalism, with individuals tending to freely circulate between the four. The activities of nonprofits are bound up in the same discourses shaped by current news and academic research, with all four reflecting the same general ideological consensus. Finally, lacking the profit motive, the decision-making processes of nonprofits are influenced by what will affect the status of the individuals within those organizations rather than what will affect profits. Within nonprofits, the cost of incompetent staffers is borne by “stakeholders,” rather than any one individual.

While all businesses subject to federal law must prioritize diversity over competency at some level, the problem is worse at publicly-traded corporations for reasons both obvious and subtle. The obvious reason is that larger companies present larger targets for EEOC actions and discrimination lawsuits with hundreds of millions of dollars at stake. Corporations have logically responded by hiring large teams of HR professionals to preempt such lawsuits. Over the past several decades, HR has evolved from simply overseeing onboarding to involvement in every aspect of hiring, promotions, and firings, seeing them all through a political and regulatory lens.

The more subtle reason for pressure within publicly-traded companies is that they require ongoing relationships with a spiderweb of banks, credit ratings agencies, proxy advisory services, and most importantly, investors. Given that the loss of access to capital is an immediate death sentence for most businesses, the CEOs of publicly-traded companies tend to push diversity over competency even when the decline in firm performance is clear. CEOs would likely rather trade a small drag on profits margins than a potentially career-ending scandal from pushing back.

Whereas publicly-traded corporations nearly uniformly push diversity, privately-held businesses vary tremendously based on the views of their owners. Partnerships such as the Big Four accounting firms and top-tier management consultancies are high-status. High-status firms must regularly proclaim extensive support for diversity. While the firms tend to be highly selective, partnerships whose leadership is overwhelmingly white and male have generally capitulated to the zeitgeist and are cutting standards to hit targets. Firms often manage around this by hiring for diversity and then putting diversity hires into roles where they are the least likely to damage the firm or the brand. Somewhat counterintuitively, firms with diverse founders are often highly meritocratic, as the structure harnesses the founder’s desire to make money and shields them from criticism on diversity issues.

The most notable example of a diverse meritocracy is Vista Equity Partners, the large private equity firm founded by Robert F. Smith, America’s wealthiest black man. Robert F. Smith is one of the most vocal advocates for and philanthropists to historically black U.S. colleges and universities. It would be reasonable to expect Vista to prioritize diversity over competency in its portfolio companies. However, Vista has instead been profiled for giving all portfolio company management teams the Criteria Cognitive Aptitude Test and ruthlessly culling low-performers. Given the amount of value to be created by promoting the best people into leadership roles of their portfolio companies, one might imagine this to be low-hanging fruit for the rest of private equity, yet Vista is an outlier. Why Vista can apply the CCAT without a public outcry is obvious.

The other firms that tend to still focus on competency are those that are small and private. Such firms have two key advantages: they fall below the fifteen-employee threshold for the most onerous EEOC rules and the owner can usually directly observe the performance of everyone inside the organization. Within small firms, underperformance is usually obvious. Tech startups, being both small and private, would seem to have the right structure to prioritize competency.

The American System Is Cracking

Promoting diversity over competency does not simply affect new hires and promotion decisions. It also affects the people already working inside of America’s systems. Morale and competency inside U.S. organizations are declining. Those who understand that the new system makes it hard or impossible for them to advance are demoralized, affecting their performance. Even individuals poised to benefit from diversity preferences notice that better people are being passed over and the average quality of their team is declining. High performers want to be on a high-performing team. When the priorities of their organizations shift away from performance, high performers respond negatively.

This effect was likely seen in a recent paper by McDonald, Keeves, and Westphal. The paper points out that white male senior leaders reduce their engagement following the appointment of a minority CEO. While it is possible that author Ijeoma Oluo is correct, and that white men have so much unconscious bias raging inside of them that the appointment of a diverse CEO sends them into a tailspin of resentment, there is another more plausible explanation. When boards choose diverse CEOs to make a political statement, high performers who see an organization shifting away from valuing honest performance respond by disengaging.

Some demoralized employees—like James Damore in his now-famous essay, “Google’s Ideological Echo Chamber”—will directly push back against pro-diversity arguments. Like James, they will be fired. Older, demoralized workers, especially those who are mere years from retirement, are unlikely to point out the decline in competency and risk it costing them their jobs. Those who have a large enough nest egg may simply retire to avoid having to deal with the indignity of having to attend another Inclusive Leadership seminar.

As older men with tacit knowledge either retire or are pushed out, the burden of maintaining America’s complex systems will fall on the young. Lower-performing young men angry at the toxic mix of affirmative action (hurting their chances of admission to a “good school”) and credentialism (limiting the “good jobs” to graduates of “good schools”) are turning their backs on college and white-collar work altogether.

This is the continuation of a trend that began over a decade ago. High-performing young men will either collaborate, coast, or downshift by leaving high-status employment altogether. Collaborators will embrace “allyship” to attempt to bolster their chances of getting promoted. Coasters realize that they need to work just slightly harder than the worst individual on their team. Their shirking is likely to go unnoticed and they are unlikely to feel enough emotional connection to the organization to raise alarm when critical mistakes are being made. The combination of new employees hired for diversity, not competence, and the declining engagement of the highly competent sets the stage for failures of increasing frequency and magnitude.

The modern U.S. is a system of systems interacting together in intricate ways. All these complex systems are simply assumed to work. In February of 2021, cold weather in Texas caused shutdowns at unwinterized natural gas power plants. The failure rippled through the systems with interlocking dependencies. As a result, 246 people died. In straightforward work, declining competency means that things happen more slowly, and products are lower quality or more expensive. In complex systems, declining competency results in catastrophic failures.

To understand why, one must understand the concept of a “normal accident.” In 1984, Charles Perrow, a Yale sociologist, published the book, Normal Accidents: Living With High-Risk Technologies. In this book, Perrow lays out the theory of normal accidents: when you have systems that are both complex and tightly coupled, catastrophic failures are unavoidable and cannot simply be designed around. In this context, a complex system is one that has many components that all need to interact in a specified way to produce the desired outcome. Complex systems often have relationships that are nonlinear and contain feedback loops. Tightly-coupled systems are those whose components need to move together precisely or in a precise sequence.

The 1979 Three Mile Island Accident was used as a case study: a relatively minor blockage of a water filter led to a cascading series of malfunctions that culminated in a partial meltdown. In A Demon of Our Own Design, author Richard Bookstaber added two key contributions to Perrow’s theory: first, that it applies to financial markets, and second, that regulation intended to fix the problem may make it worse.

The biggest shortcoming of the theory is that it takes competency as a given. The idea that competent organizations can devolve to a level where the risk of normal accidents becomes unacceptably high is barely addressed. In other words, rather than being taken as absolutes, complexity and tightness should be understood to be relative to the functionality of the people and systems that are managing them. The U.S. has embraced a novel question: what happens when the men who built the complex systems our society relies on cease contributing and are replaced by people who were chosen for reasons other than competency?

The answer is clear: catastrophic normal accidents will happen with increasing regularity. While each failure is officially seen as a separate issue to be fixed with small patches, the reality is that the whole system is seeing failures at an accelerating rate, which will lead in turn to the failure of other systems. In the case of the Camp Fire that killed 85 people, PG&E fired its CEO, filed Chapter 11, and restructured. The system’s response has been to turn off the electricity and raise wildfire insurance premiums. This has resulted in very little reflection. The more recent coronavirus pandemic was another teachable moment. What started just three years ago with a novel respiratory virus has caused a financial crisis, a bubble, soaring inflation, and now a banking crisis in rapid succession.

Patching the specific failure mode is simultaneously too slow and induces unexpected consequences. Cascading failures overwhelm the capabilities of the system to react. 20 years ago, a software bug caused a poorly-managed local outage that led to a blackout that knocked out power to 55 million people and caused 100 deaths. Utilities were able to restore power to all 55 million people in only four days. It is unclear if they could do the same today. U.S. cities would look very different if they remained without power for even two weeks, especially if other obstructions unfolded. What if emergency supplies sat on trains immobilized by fuel shortages due to the aforementioned pipeline shutdown? The preference for diversity over competency has made our system of systems dangerously fragile.

Americans living today are the inheritors of systems that created the highest standard of living in human history. Rather than protecting the competency that made those systems possible, the modern preference for diversity has attenuated meritocratic evaluation at all levels of American society. Given the damage already done to competence and morale combined with the natural exodus of baby boomers with decades worth of tacit knowledge, the biggest challenge of the coming decades might simply be maintaining the systems we have today.

The path of least resistance will be the devolution of complex systems and the reduction in the quality of life that entails. For the typical resident in a second-tier city in Mexico, Brazil, or South Africa, power outages are not uncommon, tap water is probably not safe to drink, and hospital-associated infections are common and often fatal. Absent a step change in the quality of American governance and a renewed culture of excellence, they prefigure the country’s future.

Grandpa’s… Wife?! | The Munsters

UPDATED AGAIN 5:30 PM EDT — TODAY! NATO “AIR-DEFENDER 2023” EXERCISE BEGINS . . .

The largest air force deployment exercise in NATO history, Air Defender 23, kicks off today. Many people fear this “exercise” is actually a “cover” for NATO to directly involve itself in the Russia-Ukraine conflict, and thereby commence World War 3, which would go nuclear.

From 12 to 23 June, 10,000 participants from 25 countries will train on 250 aircraft, including 190 combat aircraft, in European airspace.

Wunstorf Air Base in Germany is the centerpiece of the exercise, home to a purpose-built field tank farm.

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2023 06 13 14 48a

The warehouse is the largest in Germany and holds about 2.4 million liters of kerosene. We are not hinting at anything.

On Saturday, about 300 people protested in front of the air base against NATO exercises. The protesters demanded diplomatic solutions instead of the use of weapons and called for an end to the conflict in Ukraine.

Hal Turner Editorial Opinion

Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop with the Russia-Ukraine Conflict which NATO uses as an excuse to involve itself directly.  God knows NATO has done everything it knows how, to get Russia to attack them: NATO has provided Ukraine with guns, ammunition, artillery, shells, missiles, HIMARS MLRS, Intelligence, Surveillance, Reconaissance and even targeting info on how and where to hit Russian troops. Countless BILLIONS in cash money has poured into Ukraine from NATO countries, to kill Russians.

That Russia has not taken this bait is amazing.  The patience and self-discipline of the Russians and their leaders is mind-boggling.  Yet, God bless them, the Russians have stayed the course.

In World War 2, Russia fought Nazi Germany.    At the time, Russia was part of the then-Soviet Union, but it was Russia that lost the most in that war: 27 MILLION Russians were killed fighting NAZIS.

Fast-Forward to 2014, what pops-up in Ukraine?   A NAZI infested government, installed by the West, after the West fomented, incited, and financed riots that toppled the government of President Viktor Yanukovich.

After overthrowing the Ukraine government, the West goaded Ukraine to start attacking the Russian-speaking populations of Luhansk and Donetsk.   Those two provinces wanted to join Crimea and secede from Ukraine after it’s government was overthrown by the West.    The new puppet government of Ukraine refused to allow those two provinces to secede, and instead, sent troops to begin attacking the Russian-speaking civilians there.

Russia covertly intervened with troops to help defend Luhansk and Donetsk.  The two provinces, with Russian help, fought Ukraine to a standstill.

So the West got sneaky.  A peace conference was called to meet in Minsk, Belarus.  Ukraine, Luhansk, Donetsk, France, Germany, and Russia, attended. A peace agreement was signed . . . and Ukraine did not abide ANY of it for years after.

Turned out, the West overtly LIED during the Minsk Peace Talks.  It came out later, that then-German-Chancellor Angela Merkel, and then-President of France, Francois Hollande, signed the Minsk Agreements knowing it was a ruse; they told the press in 2022, they just wanted to buy time to arm Ukraine!

So all the way back in the year 2014, it was the West’s intent to start a war between Ukraine and Russia!

For eight years, from 2014-2022, the West armed and trained Ukraine to NATO Standards.  Ukraine had a standing army of 800,000; the largest in Europe.

In December, 2021, Ukraine massed more troops, tanks, artillery, fighter jets and the like, on the borders of Luhansk and Donetsk.  The earlier years from 2014-2022 where Ukraine killed upwards of 13,000 civilians in Luhansk and Donetsk apparently wasn’t good enough; Ukraine was going to slaughter the people there.

Russia said “no” and stepped-in on  February 24, 2022.

The West went nuts, claiming this was “an unprovoked aggression by Russia.”   It wasn’t.  It was provoked over, and over, and over again, by the West.

In the almost 16 months since the conflict began, NATO has done anything and everything it can to help Ukraine kill Russians.  NATO failed.   Ukraine is getting smashed on the battle field despite all of NATO’s help.   Ukraine is losing the conflict – badly.

It is so bad for Ukraine that they have to draft 16 year old boys off the streets, at gunpoint – to force them to the front to fight.  The bloodbath is horrifying, but NATO will not stop pushing Ukraine to fight further.

Yet for all its pushing of Ukraine to fight-on, and for all the equipment NATO has supplied to Ukraine . . . Russia is still winning.   Russia just smashes all the gear being sent by NATO.   Within the past 48 hours, look at what Russia did to NATO’s “advanced” weaponry:

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2023 06 13 14 49b

Three out of the six Leopard 2R mine-clearing vehicles Finland donated to Ukraine have been lost in the same field.

With other engineering vehicles in the field as well, this is a massive loss for the brigade, no matter what.

Russia just moves right along, smashing and destroying everything NATO sends.

As you read this story on June 12, 2023, Ukraine’s only hope is for NATO to enter the war and fight Russia directly.  But Russia has not attacked NATO.   So at this point, an “incident” has to take place so as to justify NATO’s entry into the conflict.   And THAT is what this “Air Defender, 2023” exercise is likely all about.

Someone is likely to create an “incident” which NATO will then use to justify its entry into the war.

From today through June 24, is the single most dangerous time in this world since the Cuban Missile crisis of 1962.   If an “incident” is made to happen, and NATO enters the fight, it will go almost immediately to nuclear war.  There will be no warning for any of us.

If you’re the praying type, now is the time. The world is going to look a lot different, and sooner than people might suspect. All it takes is one Keystone removed from the arch to threaten the entirety of the system upon which our society is based.

 

UPDATE 7:56 AM EDT —

NATO has already begun probing!  NATO military aircraft are penetrating air space of the Black Sea:

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2023 06 13 14 49c

Above is a “Rivet Joint” aircraft.   The RC-135V/W Rivet Joint reconnaissance aircraft supports theater and national level consumers with near real time on-scene intelligence collection, analysis and dissemination capabilities.

Features
The aircraft is an extensively modified C-135. The Rivet Joint’s modifications are primarily related to its on-board sensor suite, which allows the mission crew to detect, identify and geolocate signals throughout the electromagnetic spectrum. The mission crew can then forward gathered information in a variety of formats to a wide range of consumers via Rivet Joint’s extensive communications suite.

Below, a NATO Fighter Jet:

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2023 06 13 14 49d

 

This jet is a single-seat, Block 5 or later aircraft (built or upgraded from F2) and is known as Typhoon FGR4s. The new mark number represents the increased capabilities of the Block 5 aircraft (fighter/ground attack/reconnaissance). The FGR4 has from June 2008 achieved the required standard for multi-role operations.

The purpose of these flights is to test Russian reaction times and gather up-to-the-minute Intelligence.   NATO is fixin’ for a fight.

MORE:

-RAF RC-135W Rivet Joint RRR7212

-RAF KC2 Voyager KAYAK31

-Italian Air Force King Air 350ER IAM1482

-US Army CH-47 Chinook R08457

-US Army Black Hawk 11-20392

 

UPDATE 8:45 AM EDT —

In Crimea, there has been an explosion on the railway tracks. This is reported by Russian media and telegram channels.

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2023 06 13 14 49e

The driver of the freight train allegedly spotted the explosive device and applied emergency brakes.

As a result of the explosion, according to preliminary data, the tracks and a freight locomotive were damaged. According to some reports, two railway workers were injured.

The explosion occurred in the Kirov region of Crimea – in the east of the peninsula.

The movement of trains on the site has been stopped, repairs may take several hours, the head of the Crimea, Sergey Aksyonov, wrote on his telegram channel.

(HT REMARK: This is clearly part of an effort to block Russian supply lines.)

 

RELATED ????

UPDATE 9:22 AM EDT —

RUSSIAN CONVOY HIT BY TURK DRONE STRIKE – SYRIA!

A Russian soldier has been killed and 3 Russian soldiers were wounded after being in a Turkish drone strike in northern Syria this morning.

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2023 06 13 14 49f

The Russian military column was traveling between the villages of Herbel and Maarat Umm Hawsh outside Aleppo.

TURKEY IS A MEMBER OF . . . NATO . . . .

 

UPDATE 10:48 AM EDT —

This is my current assessment of the Ukraine situation:

Today is Day 8 of Ukraine’s “Great Counter-offensive” and all they have to show for it is a few fields, and more troops stuck in meat grinders.

The “Counter-Offensive” is bogged down — badly — and the Vilnius, Lithuania, meeting of NATO is coming up fast.  That is the meeting at which Ukraine must show NATO that it is has made real progress with the Counter-Offensive, or future assistance from NATO goes into great jeopardy.

For what it’s worth, by Day 8, Ukraine was __supposed to__  be mopping up Melitopol, should have cut off Mariupol by standing on the AZOV Coast, and should have been starting the assault on Crimea.

Nothing is going as planned.  Ukraine is taking huge losses, and have not even managed to reach the First defense line of the Russians – anywhere!!!!

Think about THAT for just a moment; they have not yet encountered Russian actual defensive lines yet . . .  anywhere . . .  along the front.  All they’ve encountered are Russian Recon and Pickets; which are smashing and destroying much of what Ukraine has already put forth.

NATO equipment?  Not nearly as good as everyone thought it was.

NATO Tactics?  Utter failure at almost every turn.

NATO is a failure.  Ukraine is the proof.

Thank God we didn’t have to find out via an actual invasion during the Cold War by the then-Soviet-Union; we’d have had our clocks cleaned.

Once again, the incompetents running Washington, DC and our military, made another a huge mistake….

UPDATE 5:29 PM EDT —

As of today, Ukraine has lost (or abandoned to caputre) fifteen percent (15%) of the M2A2 Bradley Infantry Fighting vehicles donated to them for their “Counter-Offensive.”  They achieved this 15% loss in eight (8) days.

Trapped In The Bank Vault | The Munsters

The repair work on the damage to the reality universe is still in process.

The repair work on the damage to the reality universe is still in process. I am unaware of the organizational structure of the who, and where, and what. But the intention is clear. To stop the emergence of a calmer cleaner world led by the Global South, and instead push the corrupt Western model back into power.

Amateurs. But the repairs are also fixing other things that were “flapping in the winds”, and that is overall going to make things easier for all of us.

Today, I had an interview with DM about his prayer affirmation campaign, you can watch it here, if you haven’t already.

Now, for the rest of the stuff…

By Global Times Published: Mar 27, 2023 09:07 PM

When it comes to the Ukraine issue, the West and Russia have never stopped testing and pressuring each other. The greater the pressure the US and NATO apply on Russia, the greater Russia’s counterattack will be.

NATO criticized Russian President Vladimir Putin for what it called his “dangerous and irresponsible” nuclear rhetoric on Sunday, a day after Putin said he planned to station tactical nuclear weapons in Belarus, Reuters reported. On the same day, the EU’s foreign policy chief Josep Borrell threatened on Twitter that “The EU stands ready to respond with further sanctions.”

As for the recent escalation, the reason is UK’s irresponsible decision to provide depleted uranium munition to Ukraine. On the one hand, depleted uranium munitions have already exceeded the red line that Russia can accept. On the other, this shows Western countries like the UK have no bottom line in providing weapons to Ukraine. As a response, Russia has opted for deploying tactical nuclear weapons to Belarus.

Now, NATO has come out to accuse Russia of breaking its own arms control commitments. But in fact, the US has long been a violator of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. Song Zhongping, a military expert and TV commentator, told the Global Times that the US has deployed tactical nuclear weapons in European countries, including Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and Turkey, which means the US has long deployed its tactical nuclear weapons at Russia’s doorstep, posing a significant threat to Russia’s national security. Russia’s reaction this time is not just aimed at the UK’s move, but more about the US.

“Russia’s planned deployment of its tactical nuclear weapons in Belarus is not only a response to NATO’s past and current provocations, but also is aimed at deterring US’ potential provocations, dealing with what is about to happen,” said Song.

Belarus is a key choice for Russia, as its geographical location is ideal. It is not far from Poland, Germany, the Baltic countries and even the Nordic countries. If tactical nuclear weapons are deployed there, it will have a huge strategic deterrent effect on some neighboring NATO countries near Russia, Song noted.

Nevertheless, whether the US and NATO impose various sanctions on Russia or continuously provide weapons to Ukraine, they are actually moving toward a more dangerous direction. It won’t help solve the Ukraine issue, but will only lead to a vicious circle, escalating the nuclear arms race and ultimately developing into a situation that no one wants to see.

Wang Shuo, a professor at the School of International Relations of Beijing Foreign Studies University, pointed out that knowing that the situation could get worse, the US is still pressuring Russia, and the purpose behind it is to maintain its hegemonic system. In addition, during the Cold War, the US used extreme pressure tactics against the Soviet Union, which eventually dragged the Soviet Union down, so today Washington still wants to apply the same tactics.

Now, the peace forces mediating the Ukraine-Russia conflict are still relatively insufficient. European countries have been kidnapped by the US to provide weapons to Ukraine, and even countries like Japan have gone to great lengths to provide assistance to Ukraine. This all serves the interests of the US, whose purpose is to force European countries, and even Indo-Pacific countries, to help the US counter Russia and drag it down. Since this goal has not been achieved, Washington does not want peace now.

It is the US that is pushing Russia step by step. Washington does not want to see a victory for Russia on the Ukrainian battlefield. If Ukraine loses, it means NATO loses, which also means the US loses its global leadership and hegemony, a price that it cannot afford. Consequently, when China proposed a complete, systematic and dialectical 12-point peace proposal, the US was among the first to come out to deny it. The peace proposal takes into account all aspects and is practical. The fact that the US is eager to dismiss it shows that it doesn’t want peace.

The conflict between Russia and Ukraine is a “proxy war” that the US has imposed on Europe. If the US and Russia cannot reach a compromise, there can be no peace between Russia and Ukraine. But if the conflict continues, not only will Russia and Ukraine be damaged, but also Europe’s security dilemma will worsen. The more Europe tries to be safe, the more insecure it becomes.

Don’t get out of your car if you get pulled over by police.

I was pulled over by a police officer while driving in Iowa. It was one week after I had arrived in the USA for the first time. I had accidentally made a minor mistake disobeying a traffic sign. Back home in Australia it’s considered polite to get out of your car and walk over to the police officer’s car and hand him your license* so he doesn’t have to get out of his seat. I wanted to be extra polite so I immediately jumped out of my car and walked towards his car while reaching into my back pocket.

I’m lucky to be alive.

If you come from a gun-free country like the UK or Australia you don’t have any natural instinct for gun culture. You don’t realize that police assume that everyone is armed.

Things got immediately serious. The police officer’s hand went to his weapon and I responded by dropping to my knees with my hands up. He yelled a bunch of things at me but my memory is vague because my heartbeat was suddenly pulsing in my ears blotting out all sound. I don’t know if he drew his weapon or not. I was staring intently at the ground, shaking and trying to project non-threatening vibes. My next memory is that there were three police cars around me and a bunch of cops who’d been called for backup. They were all keeping their hands close to their guns. After some time passed (a minute? 30 minutes? I have no idea) the tensions de-escalated and they told me to get up. I gave the officer my license and tried to explain why I’d approached him. It was completely incomprehensible to him that there was a place where people don’t fear cops and vice versa at traffic stops. It was as though I was trying to tell him that I came from Narnia and our cops were all talking animals.

I’ve spoken to several British people, New Zealanders, and Australians who have shared almost identical stories. They really need to put signs up in all major US airports.

Don’t get out of your car if stopped by police. They will assume you are armed and they might shoot you.

Edit: have a look at this story about an Australian woman who was shot and killed by an American cop. Ex-Minneapolis police officer sentenced to 12.5 years for fatal shooting of Justine Ruszczyk Damond

To me, the chilling part of the story is this passage:

“When police arrived, Ruszczyk Damond approached the driver's side of the squad car, and Noor, who was in the passenger's seat, shot her through the open window…”

In Australia, we would think it perfectly normal to approach a police car to talk to the police. She probably had no idea that she could be in danger. American police are far too ready to kill.

It’s sickening.

A REVOLUTION has Begun!

The Covid-19 coronavirus was “intentionally released” by the United States

The Covid-19 coronavirus was "intentionally released" by the United States in Wuhan, China, with the target to trigger a global pandemic to raise public acceptance of vaccines, a US businessman specializing in patent auditing said.

David Martin, the founding chairman of M Cam asset management company, said at an International Covid Summit organized by the European Parliament in Brussels earlier this month that the US was responsible for the making of both coronaviruses causing the outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome - or SARS - in 2003 and the Covid-19 pandemic in the past three years.

The third edition of the summit featured speakers from anti-lockdown advocates to medical academia to discuss the global pandemic response. The speakers shed light on the possibility that the coronavirus which caused the pandemic was man-made, instead of naturally occurring.

In his speech, Martin said: "The pandemic that we alleged to have happened in the last few years did not happen overnight. In fact, the very specific pandemic using the coronavirus began at a different time."

He said that in 1965, scientists discovered the coronavirus as a model of a pathogen - an agent that causes disease. They also found out that coronaviruses can be modified.

"Later we started learning how to modify a coronavirus by putting them in animals such as dogs and pigs," Martin said, adding that such a practice became the basis for US pharmaceutical giant Pfizer's first coronavirus spike protein vaccine in 1990.

But very soon the medical sector and drug makers found out that the vaccines did not work.

"Because the coronavirus is a malleable model, it mutates," Martin said. "Every medical publication concluded that coronaviruses escape vaccines because it modifies and mutates too rapidly for a vaccine to be developed."

In 2002, a university in North Carolina initiated a study to develop an "infectious replication defective," which Martin interpreted as "a weapon to target individuals, but not have collateral damage."

Characterizing the project as having "mysteriously preceded SARS by a year," Martin said the coronavirus that caused the highly deadly infection was not from China and that it was "engineered" instead of naturally occurring.

On Covid-19, Martin said the coronavirus - named as SARS-CoV-2 by the World Health Organization - was poised for human emergence in 2016, with a preview about an "accidental or intentional release of a respiratory coronavirus" from a laboratory in Wuhan.

He said the purpose of the coronavirus "release" was to boost global acceptance on universal vaccination.

Explaining the common concern among the medical industry, Martin said: "Until an infectious crisis is very real, present and at the emergency threshold, it is often largely ignored.

"To sustain the funding base beyond the crisis, we need to increase the public understanding of the need for medical countermeasures, such as the pan-influenza, or pan-coronavirus, vaccine. A key drive is the media and the economics will follow the hype.

"We [pharmaceutical firms] need to use that hype to our advantage to get to the real issue. Investors will respond if they see profit at the end of the process," he said.

The Covid infection was first reported in Wuhan, Hubei province in central China in late 2019, with initial clusters coming from the Huanan Seafood Wholesale Market.

The disease turned into a global pandemic in early 2020.

As of Saturday, over 766 million infections have been recorded worldwide, with nearly seven million deaths.

The source of the coronavirus remained a mystery. Some scientists believe it transferred to humans from wild animals like bats and manidaes, while some politicians, in particular those from the US, accused the Wuhan Institute of Virology - a government-controlled lab - of leaking the pathogen.

A team of WHO-appointed experts inspected Wuhan in early 2021 to probe the source of the pandemic.

After the 12-day visit, including a visit to the lab, the scientists concluded that it is "extremely unlikely" that the lab could have leaked the Covid-19 coronavirus.

Article HERE

Paula Deen’s Macaroni and Cheese

2023 06 11 11 29
2023 06 11 11 29

Ingredients

  • 4 cups cooked elbow macaroni, drained
  • 2 cups grated cheddar cheese
  • 3 eggs, beaten
  • 1/2 cup sour cream
  • 4 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup milk

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Once you have the macaroni cooked and drained, place in a large bowl and while still hot and add the cheddar.
  3. In a separate bowl, combine the remaining ingredients and add to the macaroni mixture.
  4. Pour macaroni mixture into a casserole dish and bake for 30 to 45 minutes.
  5. Top with additional cheese if desired.

Norway canceled China top shipyard 13 billion dollar order, was it a conspiracy?

This Woman Creates A DIY Dollhouse Door Electrical Outlet Covers

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We can all agree that COVID-19 has turned our world upside down. Everything we knew we did has changed. Some people are furstrated but there are some that never lose their spirit. Even in these difficult times there are people that show us that you can use every situation to your advantage. Discover something new create something you never did before.

h/t: art-sheep

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Làm gì phải Hốt – JustaTee x Hoàng Thùy Linh x Đen | Official Music Video

By Global Times Published: Jun 11, 2023 08:54 PM

On Saturday, China’s Assistant Foreign Minister Nong Rong summoned South Korean Ambassador Chung Jae-ho to express his “serious concern and dissatisfaction” over Seoul’s “improper reaction” to comments made by Chinese Ambassador to South Korea Xing Haiming in a recent meeting with Lee Jae-myung, leader of South Korea’s largest opposition party, the Democratic Party of Korea.

One day earlier, the South Korean Foreign Ministry summoned Ambassador Xing to protest his remarks on US-Korea relations, saying Xing had interfered in South Korea’s internal affairs by citing “inaccurate facts” and criticizing South Korean policy.

What exactly did Ambassador Xing say?

According to reports, he accused Seoul of being influenced by Washington and not respecting Beijing’s core concerns, including the Taiwan question, during a meeting with Lee on Thursday. Xing pointed out that the US is trying its best to suppress China and that some people are betting on the US to win and China to lose, which is clearly a misjudgment that fails to consider the broader historical context. He warned that “those betting on China’s defeat will certainly regret it later.”

Ambassador Xing was correct; he just made another factual and logical judgment. His remarks stem from South Korea’s provocative stance.

The US is mobilizing its allies in the Asia-Pacific region to form a containment ring against China, thereby compelling South Korea to take sides and assess the potential consequences of this strategic competition.

In an exclusive interview with Reuters before his visit to the US in April, South Korean President Yoon Suk-yeol said that tensions in the Taiwan Straits are caused by attempts to change the status quo by force, and South Korea joins the international community in opposing such changes. Yoon also said that the Taiwan question is not simply an issue between the Chinese mainland and Taiwan but, like the issue of North Korea, it is a global issue.

By clearly copying the US position on the Taiwan question, the South Korean government is not simply following the US’ China strategy but also is expressing confidence in the US’ ability to prevail.

The current South Korean government is gradually falling into a strategic trap orchestrated by the US to contain China. We have every reason to believe that if this trajectory continues, South Korea will no longer be a mere follower of the US but could eventually find itself in a frontline role.

It would be prudent for the South Korean government to pause and reflect before taking the next step: Is China really an enemy of South Korea? If South Korea aligns with the US strategy and pushes China into a hostile position, can South Korea bear the consequences?

South Korea’s greatest concern is the security of the Korean Peninsula, but this can never be achieved by blindly adhering to the US agenda and engaging in confrontation with China.

It is not that South Korea does not have the ability to refuse to take sides; at least South Korea has some ability to maintain the balance. However, it appears that South Korea is now leaning toward the US side. We’re concerned that this decision will jeopardize the peninsula’s security, which the South Korean people desire for.

We acknowledge that a significant challenge to current East Asian cooperation is that the existing security system restricts our ability to draw closer to one another and fails to shield us from the chilling winds of the Cold War.

It’s akin to having a thermostat, but the remote control for that thermostat is held in the American military’s hands.

We can’t continue to be trapped in an outdated Cold War system. We should not allow the Americans to decide whether we are safe. What is certain is that once the desired reunification of the peninsula is achieved, there will no longer be a place for US soldiers.

Given increasing US pressure, China and South Korea now urgently need to expand cooperation on security issues and enhance communication and collaboration. But this can only happen if South Korea respects China’s core interests and security concerns and stops appeasing the US in a manner that “irritates” China. Such actions will not bring any real benefits to South Korea.

China and South Korea are close neighbors and cannot avoid each other. China does not want turmoil and war on the peninsula. The key now is how we can resist disruption and destruction by external forces and find the right path for Asians to solve our own problems through cooperation.

Oh! Watch out for that freedom shit. Everywhere the US brings freedom, it always ends up looking like this.

2023 06 12 15 12
2023 06 12 15 12

Beware of what you wish for, you’ll get it.

Haven’t you noticed how peaceful it is for the moment where China does not talk to the US?

It’s the US that isn’t a good conversation partner. From just a talk, you may end up fighting with them, not unless you’re very subservient, like Japan or S. Korea (American Pie fillings)

What we get wrong about China.

Saucy Peach-Spiced Chicken

1ef89c091b8a616ee916f7b29a6e215c
1ef89c091b8a616ee916f7b29a6e215c

Ingredients

  • Cooking oil
  • 1/2 cup flour mixed with 1 teapoon salt and 1/8 teaspoon pepper
  • 6 each fryer chicken legs and thighs or 2 breasts and 4 thighs
  • 1 cup orange juice
  • 1 1/2 cups sliced peaches (fresh, canned or frozen)
  • 2 tablespoons brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon mace or nutmeg
  • 1 teaspoon sweet basil
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • Hot, cooked rice

Instructions

  1. Put oil to a depth of 1/2-inch in a large skillet.
  2. While oil is heating, dredge chicken in seasoned flour.
  3. Brown chicken in hot oil.
  4. While chicken is browning, combine orange juice and peaches with brown sugar, vinegar, mace or nutmeg, sweet basil and minced garlic in a saucepan. Simmer for 10 minutes.
  5. Remove chicken when it is browned, and pour off oil, retaining the flavored browned bits in skillet.
  6. Replace chicken and pour fruit sauce over top.
  7. Cover and simmer about 20 minutes.
  8. Serve over rice.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Hoàng Thùy Linh – Duyên Âm (Love of Ghost) | Official Music Video

A MAN WHO MADE A DIFFERENCE

In 1987, a 74-year old rickshaw puller by the name of Bai Fangli came back to his hometown planning to retire from his backbreaking job. There, he saw children working in the fields, because they were too poor to afford school fees.

Bai returned to Tianjin and went back to work as a rickshaw puller, taking a modest accommodation next to the railway station. He waited for clients 24 hours a day, ate simple food and wore discarded second-hand clothes he found.

He gave all of his hard-earned earnings to support children who could not afford education.

In 2001, he drove his rickshaw to Tianjin YaoHua Middle School, to deliver his last installment of money.

Nearly 90 years old, he told the students that he couldn’t work any more. All of the students and teachers were moved to tears.

In total, Bai had donated a total of 350,000 yuan to help more than 300 poor students continue with their studies. In 2005, Bai passed away leaving behind an inspiring legacy.

If a rickshaw-puller who wore used clothes and had no education can support 300 children to go to school, imagine what you and I can do with the resources we have to bring about positive change in our world!

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2023 06 12 10 30

A tear in the fabric of our baseline reality

About a month ago, someone or something was really trying hard to reorder our baseline reality universe.

Seriously folks. There are people; someone, a collective activity, an entity… HUMAN… that is trying to alter the world Line MAIN template.

Amateurs.

Been busy stitching it back up. Sheech.

I know exactly what it’s all about. They don’t like how the human species is migrating to a Chinese led world of peace, order and control. They want the continuous cycles of purging destruction.

So, I don’t know if it is “old empire” ‘Bots.

Non-physical entities that have made nice “nests” for themselves in the chaotic cycles of destruction, or just practicing Magick at an amateur level.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s like trying to empty the ocean with a thimble.

Anyways, the mend it on. Wearing me out. But the fix is in.

But, why now? I have no clue.

Ok, guys be cool out there. Todays…

Never look at monthly payments. Negotiate on the final price.

This happens everywhere I go. Car dealership, “So what do you want your monthly payment to be?” Insurance agent, “Great so your down payment is $XX and your quarterly payments are $XX” etc..

Um, I want to know what the final out the door price would be?

“Well tell me what you can afford and I’ll see if we can make this work for you. So how much are you looking to pay a month?”

Why is this bad? Because you cannot compare apples to apples with just a monthly payment. Sure they can make your monthly payment super low and just extend your term to forever so they make more money. Or for insurance purposes you cannot compare that policy vs another one.

Also you should know the true cost of the items you are buying. Sure those $150 airpods at 5 bucks a month on your credit card is easy to afford. But once you factor in that 22% interest rate over how long it takes to pay it off were they REALLY worth the $180+ you just paid?

I feel like majority of uninformed consumers should be considering the true cost of items vs they I can afford that monthly payment mindset. No wonder people live paycheck to paycheck thinking they cannot afford to have an emergency savings because all of their money is going towards those monthly payments.

Wait emergency savings? I don’t need that, I have available credit on my credit cards!

The Sad Story of the Smartest Man Who Ever Lived

Numerous Russian Military Executive Jets Traveling from Moscow to Underground Bunker Area in Ural Mountains

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2023 06 11 07 55

As of 5:00 PM today, 31 May 2023, numerous Russian military executive jets (TU-134A) are traveling from Moscow to the huge government underground Bunker facility in the Ural Mountains near (or beneath) Mount Yamantau.

It is not known which government officials are on those flights or why they are heading to their underground Bunkers.

Moscow is seven hours AHEAD of U.S. east coast time, so as this story is written, it is about 1:00 in the morning over there.  A very odd time for such flights.

Further details if I get them, on tonight’s Hal Turner Radio Show airing at 9:00 PM eastern U.S. Time (GMT -0400).\

Tune-in on WBCQ 7490 or 6160 shortwave

or on

WRMI 5950 shortwave

or here on the net using this link:   http://stream.halturnerradioshow.com:8000/ then click “LISTEN” or press the Play Button on the small player to tune-in free.

NOTE: This link does not go active until about one hour before show time.  During that hour, it streams commercial-free music until the show begins.

Low Country Chicken Bog

2023 06 10 17 27
2023 06 10 17 27

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) whole chicken
  • 6 cups water
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 3 1/2 cups chicken broth
  • 1 cup long-grain white rice
  • 1/2 pound smoked sausage of your choice, sliced
  • 1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
  • 2 cubes chicken bouillon

Instructions

  1. Place chicken, water, salt and onion in a large pot. Bring to a boil; cook until chicken is tender, about 1 hour.
  2. Remove chicken from pot and let cool. Remove skin and bones and chop remaining meat into bite-size pieces.
  3. Skim off fat from cooking liquid and measure 3 1/2 cups of this chicken broth into a 6 quart saucepan.
  4. Add rice, chicken pieces, sausage, herb seasoning and bouillon to the saucepan. Cover the saucepan. Let come to a boil, then reduce heat to low and cook for 30 minutes. If mixture is too watery or juicy, cook over medium low heat, uncovered, until it reaches the desired consistency. Stir often while cooking.

RUMORS from the Ground in Ukraine: “Tonight”

There’s a TON of RUMORS coming from the ground in Ukraine all saying “Tonight.”  It is believed these RUMORS are about the much-vaunted (but yet to happen) Ukraine Spring Counter-Offensive.   But these rumors hint at something new: “Inside Russia.”

We all know that the first casualty of war is truth.   It is entirely possible that this is a false RUMOR, perhaps even deliberately released in Ukraine as a Psy-Op against Russia; maybe to get their stress levels up.

But what’s coming out from people on the ground in several parts of Ukraine is all very consistent: “Tonight.”

The new twist is that the “Counter-Offensive” will actually begin “inside Russia.”  Specifically, the RUMOR says “the opening salvo is going to be inside Russia, before the offensive will actually happen on the front lines in Ukraine.”

I am carefully reiterating this is a RUMOR for those who cannot discern very well.   It may be false.  But again, it is something very prominently being spoken on the ground in Ukraine and that, in and of itself, makes it unusual, and worth passing along.

Dido – White Flag (Official Video)

I’ve never seen someone laughed out of court but I did amuse the entire court staff, judge and audience pretty well. I used to work a rotation gig in south Florida, I’d be 3 weeks in the fun and sun then back to Minnesota for a week.

One time (in the winter) I was in such a hurry to get going I forgot my drivers license, naturally I got pulled over. The cop was nice but gave me a ticket for no DL in possession. I asked him what I should do. He said with so many tourists it was fairly common and because this was before computer storage those paper tickets took up a lot of space so they would sit on them for about 3 years then they’d toss the minor offenses and said not to worry about it.

A few weeks later I was back in south Florida and went to the courthouse to clear it up. The clerk of court said they were pretty full that day but since this was so minor she’d put me at the head of the list. When they called my name I approached the bench handing my ticket and license to the judge. He looked at me and said, “Wait a minute, you came all this way just to show me you had a license?” I said, “Did you see the national weather this morning…it’s 22 below zero in Minnesota, do I have to spell it out for you?”

The judge and the entire courtroom broke into laughter, he not only dropped the ticket but I could still hear people laughing on the way to my car.

Security guarantees, then Polish troops, and finally US troops

Yup. Walked into a world war 3.

Hackers Crash ENTIRE Russia Banking System – Get CASH Out Now Before Reprisal Attacks Today

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2023 06 11 07 29

Americans and Europeans should get to their banks RIGHT NOW to pull out some amount of cash money to have at home after Hackers took out the ENTIRE Russian Banking System.  Reprisal Hacking attacks now seem likely against the West and if you do not have cash, you may be financially paralyzed!

The entire Russian banking system is at a standstill nationwide because the ISP used for banking communication with the Russian Central Bank is down. Infotel, the ISP, is suspected to have been hacked by a pro-Ukraine group.  Infotel runs the Automated System of Electronic Interaction (ASEI) for the Central Bank of Russia.

Very long lines have already formed outside cash machines this morning, similar to the ones seen in February, 2022 when Russia’s Special Military Operation began and Sanctions were applied; people ran to ATM’s (shown above in Feb. 2022) to grab cash.

The computer infrastructure of the ISP – InfoTel – has now been down and offline for nineteen hours:

2023 06 11 07 30
2023 06 11 07 30

A group calling itself Cyber.Anarchy.Squad has publicly taken credit for the bank computer network hacking.

The group posted Infotel’s full internal client list;  100 out of 400 are banks, the rest are credit institutions, car dealers, and of course the Russian Central Bank.
The group says the entire Banking infrastructure has been destroyed.

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2023 06 11 07 330

Americans and Europeans should get to their banks or to an ATM absolutely IMMEDIATELY to get some cash.   It seems highly likely that reprisal hacking attacks are now going to be launched, perhaps by the Russian government, so as to retaliate against the West for what has just been done to Russia.

If YOU do not have cash money in your possession, and Hackers take out OUR Banking System, then none of your credit or debit cards will be able to work, and you will have no way to purchase food, fuel or other essentials.

Don’t wait – get to the bank or to an ATM immediately.  Minutes count!

It is also advisable to make HARD COPY PRINT-OUTS of your bank account activity this month so you can PROVE how much money you still had in those accounts if the west Banks are attacked and destroyed like the Russian banks just were.

UPDATE 9:00 AM EDT —

Here is a direct link to the Internet Connectivity monitor of the Russian ISP, showing they are still totally offline (Click HERE)

Here is a direct link to Russian Media outlet PRAVDA confirming the banks are all offline (Story HERE)

Social Media postings are also confirming the story:

After posting this story above, I departed my house here in Pennsylvania and went immediately to the ATM to withdraw the maximum daily limit on my account: $2,000.   Got it.  No problems at all.

Of course, the ATM itself has an $800 transaction limit.  So I had to put the card in, take $800, get the cash, the receipt, and my card back, then put the card in a second time to get $800 more, etc., then put the card in a third time to get the final $400.  Pain in the neck, but the ATM’s out here in the country don’t allow single $2,000 transactions like the one’s back in New Jersey do.   And the ones here only give out $20 bills, unlike the one’s in NJ which give $50’s and $100’s.   In any event, I got the money, so I at least have some peace of mind in case Hackers in Russia do to OUR banking system, what Hackers did to the Russian banks.

I then went to the supermarket to get my last-minute “preps” because of that whole NATO “Air Defender 2023” exercise which simulates war with Russia.  That “exercise” is scheduled to begin Monday, June 12 and last through June 24.  I have a sickening feeling it isn’t going to be an exercise; I think they’re going to use it as cover for Ukraine’s counter-offensive, and some time next week or so, we’re gonna find ourselves at war.

So I got the stuff on my list at the supermarket . . . $343.00 and headed home.

Checked the fuel gauge in the truck, still full, so I didn’t need fuel.

Back at the house now, have to put all the stuff away.

Crazy morning . . . .

Mazzy Star – Fade Into You (Official Music Video)

INTEL – NATO BASE . . . CIVILIANS ALL GONE

This content is for Subscribers only — Article HERE

Speaker of the House Sends Lawmakers HOME – Three Days Before NATO Exercise . . .that may start Russia War

House Speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) took the extraordinary and very unusual step of canceling votes for the rest of this week and sent lawmakers home today.   Just three days before the largest-ever NATO “exercise” simulating war with Russia . . .

The “public reason” given by Speaker McCarthy is that this was due to a “revolt” by 11 members of the House Freedom Caucus, who banded together to grind proceedings to a halt in protest of the speaker caving to Democrats during last week’s compromise to raise the debt ceiling.

The looming and not-so-public fact is that NATO’s “exercise” simulating war with Russia starts in 3+ days – and that “exercise” — may turn out to be real.

Bear in mind, this action by the Speaker takes place just about one week after members of the Senate were all given Satellite  telephones “in case a disruption to US communications occurs.”  It also takes place just a few short days after the Memorial Day weekend holiday, during which, select high-level FedGov officials secretly spent the weekend at Government Bunkers with their families.  a “practice run” for the real thing, maybe?

Or was it not “practice” at all?  How many of those officials are STILL in those Bunkers?   Is Congress now joining them?

I don’t believe the public reason given for this sending of lawmakers “home.”

Governing is always messy.  It is always disordered.  There are always disagreements and there is always upheaval.  Yet, the Speaker chose to “send lawmakers home????”   No, I don’t buy it.   I don’t buy it one bit.

Who knows, maybe they’re planning some type off False Flag attack upon Washington, DC to be blamed on Russia?

Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

Stay tuned . . .

Snow Patrol – Chasing Cars (Official Video)

The Biggest War Battle on European Soil Since WW2 is HAPPENING right now – almost not a peep from the Main-Stream Media!

The largest war-fighting battle on European soil since WW2 is RAGING right now – today, June 8, 2023 – and not even a peep from the West’s  so-called “main stream media!”

According to battlefield sources, Ukraine’s first attack on Zaporozhye is almost repulsed.

A lot of Ukrainian soldiers are laying down DEAD in the minefields. They were simply driven forward by their commanders without properly preparing the passages. They say the picture is terrible, the enemy has a lot of DEAD or seriously wounded just lying on the battlefield.

It is likely Ukraine will regroup and drive a few more waves to the slaughter.

The Russians say “Our boys are ready and charged.”

One Russian source said, “we are not sleeping, we are waiting!”

SO FAR . . .

From June 4th to June 8th, Ukraine has lost close to 400 armored vehicles, 115 tanks and close to 5,000 personnel on the Zaporozhye, Artemovsk (i.e. Balhmut), and Southwest Donetsk Tactical Regions. The intensity of the enemy attacks have decreased, however, a whole army in the reserve is waiting to attack. This will not be the end of their attacks. So far, no settlements have been lost (some changed hands but are back under the control of the Russian Armed Forces).

Importantly, in no instance, has even the first line of Russian defense been breached, and remember, on the Zaporozhye and Southwest Donetsk fronts, there are 5 lines of defense. Ukraine is targeting areas west of the Ugledarisky Tactical Region (nearby to the Velkya Novoselivka Tactical Region); as these regions are the least defended, however, geographically hard to conquer. This is primarily around the villages of Novodonetskoye and the Vremika Ledge.

To compensate for failures, the Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) attempted a counteroffensive on the Artemovsk(i.e. Bakhmut)/ Berkhovka area; they were subsequently wiped out. Enemy militants now resort to shelling of residential areas of the Belgorod, Russia, Region.

It is likely that Ukraine will attempt to cross the Left Bank of the Kherson River under the backdrop of the New Kakhovka Hydroelectric Dam being blown up; they have strengthened groupings with fresh reserves from Lvov and Zhytomr, Russian forces are pre-emptively striking accumulations of Ukraine manpower.

The battles are raging.  Hundreds are dying.   But since the mass-media is simply not reporting what’s taking place, people of the West have no idea at all how bad things are, or that the US and NATO will likely find out they have LOST . . . this week.   Unless, of course, they create a false flag designed to get directly involved in the war, and bring on World War 3.
The general public, being clueless, will be blind-sided at the outbreak of such a war.  They will be afraid, and looking to government for safety and answers.   The same government that LIED to them for 2 1/2 years over Trump/Russia Collusion.   The same government that LIED to them about COVID-19.   The same government that LIED to them about the COVID-19 vaccines, which are still killing many of the people who took them.
The next two weeks could very well see the outbreak of nuclear world war, and a change to all our lives that will never return to “normal.”

Five for Fighting – Superman (It’s Not Easy)

Four Days Until NATO “Exercise” Begins . . . and Maybe Direct War with Russia

SCENARIO: “Airspace over Eastern Europe is contested. Article 5 of NATO Treaty was activated. Within hours, hundreds of fighter jets from the US/NATO transfer to Germany to fly against Russia. Nuclear-capable F-35 stealth aircraft are prepped for deployment – the first hours of a major war have dawned.”

This scenario is the basis for the upcoming NATO “Air Defender 23″ exercise …”

which takes place from the 12th to the 24th of June.

The air war is simulated against an imaginary enemy who himself has a potent air force. The real meaning of this exercise is clear to anyone with a brain: Russia.

The maneuvering may still be cautious in their public communication, but Michael A. Loh, general of the US Air National Guard, expressed his motivation some time ago. In 2021, with a view to „ Air Defender “, he wished that his people „ think more about our impending dangers – China and Russia “.

The maneuver is carried out according to the principle „ Train as you fight “. Areas of application, tactics, logistics – everything should be as realistic as possible. It is therefore no coincidence that Germany becomes the central hub of the exercise. In an emergency, too, countless NATO jets would start and swarm out of German airfields. The flight routes that the fighter planes will test are just as realistic. They lead to the eastern borders of the NATO area, to the Russian and Ukrainian borders.

At first glance, what looks like a brazen but usual provocation is a tangible danger to world peace in times of war. An accident with Russian military aircraft, misguided navigation or a pilot error may be sufficient to make a training flight appear like an attack. It becomes particularly threatening if Ukraine uses the NATO exercise’s slipstream to carry out attacks, while Russian air surveillance is forced to pursue NATO activities. Russian territory is currently being bombarded almost every day, and the Ukrainian president is threatened with major attacks. The escalation potential of a Ukrainian military strike while NATO jets are patrolling nearby is obvious in this situation.

The federal government is not only willing to accept these enormous risks, it even suspends the usual security measures. Russian observers who could ensure that the exercise is not used to prepare for an attack are not invited. There shouldn’t even be a formal announcement.  “We will not write them a letter. They will understand the news when our planes swarm out “, the highest German air force general Ingo Gerhartz replied at the beginning of April to the question of how Russia is informed.

This move away from an insurance policy is accompanied by a fight against diplomacy. Last week the Federal Republic of the Russian Federation banned the operation of four consulates. They must be closed by the end of the year.

So, shortly before the NATO exercise, the relationships are further burdened and important communication channels are sabotaged. The federal government appears to be doing everything it can to drive an escalation and increase the risk that the exercise could become a bitter reality.

NATO and its ilk have to decide very quickly. Obviously, the Ukraine offensive has stalled. It is indeed a question if Ukraine army is even capable of holding their positions or not. And the Russian army is making small but constant advances. It is probable that Ukraine army and state is on the verge of collapse. Because of that, it is time to make a decision. Either NATO enters officially into conflict or Ukraine is lost.

Of course, best moment to attack Russian army would be when all NATO equipment and personal are in Europe and are practicing that type of scenario. We only need a fabricated reason for war. Something like 9/11 at the WTC.

History shows the US federal government is perfectly willing to engage in treachery to cause the US to be involved in a major war.

In World War 2, the Roosevelt Administration KNEW the Japanese were coming to attack Pearl Harbor.   They knew days in advance.   While they told the US Military “you may be attacked” there was no ironclad statement that an attack WAS already on its way.   The Japanese attack on December 7, 1941 caused the date to live in infamy.  The American military was used as canon fodder to get hit and killed, bringing the US into the war.

The Gulf of Tonkin incident was an actual fabrication by the US to get us into the Vietnam War.

Former Secretary of State, Colin Powell, sat at a UN Security Council meeting, held up a glass jar containing ANTHRAX, and told Security Council members that Saddam Hussein of Iraq had “tons” of this bio-weapon and could destroy half the world.   In to Iraq we went.  We destroyed much of Iraq, searched high and low, but guess what?  No weapons of mass destruction!   It was all lies.

In 2014, the US, EU fomented, incited, and facilitated the forcible overthrow of Ukraine’s President, Vikto Yanukovich, then funded a puppet government favorable tot he West.   The US/EU want to place American missiles on Ukraine soil, with a five minute or so flight time to Moscow.   Russia said “no.” The West said “Too fucking bad.”

In December 2021, Russia tried to negotiate ironclad, legally enforceable security guarantees.  The West laughed and basically threw Russia’s Diplomatic proposals in the trash can.

The Russians tried again, only this time warning that if Russia could not obtain ironclad, legally enforceable, security guarantees, via DIPLOMATIC means, they would attain them via military, or military-technical means.   The West again quashed the Russian proposals.

On February 24, 2022, after giving Ukraine a five hour ultimatum that went unanswered, the Russian Army went into Ukraine.   The West was mortified.  It was never within the realm of possibility to them, that Russia would actually DO what Russia said they would do!

Here we are, over a year later, the war rages, hundreds of thousands are dead, and now NATO is (coincidentally) preparing its largest air defense exercise in history . . . right next to the Russia-Ukraine major conflict . . . where any misstep can open up the hellscape of World War 3.

Given the US track record of lying to get us into actual wars, is it any stretch of the imagination to believe that NATO and the US will do so again, four or so days from now?

Let me ask you:   If, one day soon, you’re up in the morning doing what you usually do, and suddenly, the Emergency Broadcast System tones start coming out of your cellphone, or your nearby radio, or on your TV, and the announcement tells you “The United States is under nuclear attack from Russia, take shelter immediately.”  what’s the first thing you would do?

For most people, they have no friggin idea . . . . at all.   Do you call your spouse?   Do you make a mad dash to get the kids from school?  (You and everybody else . . . and find an instant “Mad Max” scenario on the roads.)

Do you have __any__ emergency food, water, medicine for after the bombs hit and the country is collapsing?

Do you actually think you’ll be able to go to the supermarket and buy food?   Upon a nuke blast, do you think your credit/debit cards will actually work so you can buy food?   Nope!

Better start thinking about these things, because the way things are going, four days from now could see your whole world change.

Matchbox Twenty – Unwell (Official Video)

US bill seeks to undercut China growth.

It doesn’t really matter what the US government or what the House says because the US doesn’t provide any aid or preferences to China economically on the basis of this label, whether it’s a developing country or a developed country, So, whatever the House does at this level is immaterial. It has no real impact in terms substantively.

Since about 2005, the U.S. has been saying that China and India need to be reclassified as advanced developing countries or higher.

The whole thing is to have kind of basically bad intentions. The point is that if China is classified as a developed country, then China has to accept certain burdens, say at the climate change negotiations or in international trade negotiations, it can’t classify as developing. And so it needs to take added commitments. That is the main thing.

India has deliberately confronted China on many fronts, but on the climate issue, it has made a rare show of support for China. Because the Indian elite understands very well: after China’s status as a developing country is cancelled, the next country to be cancelled as a developing country is India.

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2023 06 11 07 37

Attempts to limit China’s development by depriving it of its rights as a developing country are a blow not only to the Chinese people, but to developing countries as a whole, which have benefited from China’s One Belt, One Road initiative.

Of course, the US Congress has never cared a great deal about the suffering poor in other countries indeed, nor of the suffering poor in their own country.

For the sake of the US population still suffering under the ‘benign neglect’ shown them by the US Congress, it is hoped that more attention will be paid to the general welfare of the common people of the United States than to the overblown pretensions of a political elite that has lost its moorings.

AUDIT: New York Voter Data “Completely Untrustworthy” – State is no longer a legitimate state because it has almost NO legitimately elected government at any level

Auditors reviewing New York State Voter Data have uncovered so much fraud, so many invalid registrants, so much manipulation of vote totals, and a secret algorithm embedded in the database, that the “State of New York” can no longer be considered a legitimate state, as it has no legitimately elected Government at almost any level.

“Through auditing the voter roll databases, obtained directly from state and local boards of elections, auditors have uncovered millions of invalid registrations, hundreds of thousands of votes cast by legally invalid registrations, massive vote discrepancies, and the clear presence of algorithmic patterns reverse engineered from within the state’s own official records.

To be absolutely clear, there is no known innocent purpose or explanation for why these algorithms exist.

Auditors have been told by cyber-intelligence experts they indicate a ‘Total Loss of Control’ data breach, the most severe kind of data breach recognized by our federal government. The law says it renders the affected NYSVoter database completely untrustworthy.”

From UndercoverDC.com:

A peer-reviewed study in the Journal of Information Warfare (JIW) confirms a “Loss of Control” breach has occurred in the NYSVoter Database. A peer-reviewed paper of their results in a respected journal is a hard-won and “significant milestone,” according to Marly Hornik, Executive Director of the NY Citizens Audit.

The audit of the voter rolls was led by Marly Hornik and Andrew Paquette, Ph.D., Director of Research, who submitted the paper to JIW. Paquette “co-founded the International Game Architecture and Design Academy (now BUAS) in the Netherlands after a career in the feature film and video game industries. He received his Ph.D. from King’s College, London, in 2018 for a thesis on the development of expertise.”

In July 2021, Hornik and Paquette assembled a group of volunteers in New York that has grown to around 2000 individuals statewide to investigate the state’s voter registration rolls. Hornik presented the group’s preliminary findings to attendees at The Pit, sponsored by True the Vote, in August 2022.

In her recent letter to New York citizens, Hornik explains the seriousness of the group’s findings:

“Through auditing the voter roll databases, obtained directly from state and local boards of elections, we have uncovered millions of invalid registrations, hundreds of thousands of votes cast by legally invalid registrations, hundreds of thousands of votes cast by legally invalid registrants, massive vote discrepancies, and the clear presence of algorithmic patterns we reverse engineered from within the state’s own official records.

To be absolutely clear, there is no known innocent purpose or explanation for why these algorithms exist. I am told by cyber-intelligence experts they indicate a ‘Total Loss of Control’ data breach, the most severe kind of data breach recognized by our federal government. The law says it renders the affected NYSVoter database completely untrustworthy.”

New York Voter Registration Rolls Show a Catastrophic “Loss of Control Breach”

The “Loss of Control Breach” references standards published by the United States Computer Emergency Readiness Team (US-CERT) that reflect the level of impact of a given information security event where data has been compromised. According to the US-CERT Federal Incident Notification Guidelines, “the document provides guidance to Federal Government departments and agencies (D/As); state, local, tribal, and territorial government entities; Information Sharing and Analysis Organizations; and foreign, commercial, and private-sector organizations for submitting incident notifications to the National Cybersecurity and Communications Integration Center (NCCIC)/United States Computer Emergency Readiness Team (US-CERT).”

A “Loss of Control Breach” is a catastrophic level of “impact,” both functionally and in terms of information lost. It is important to note that the designation indicates “recovery from such an incident is not possible.”

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2023 06 11 07 58

Journal of Information Warfare: Three Experts Agree With Paquette’s Paper

Paquette submitted a paper to the JIW summarizing the findings from the NY Citizens Audit. He says it took about “six months to see his article through the review process.” It was the second journal to which he submitted his paper. The first was rejected “for political reasons,” according to Paquette.

Paquette published a substack on May 17 about the significance of the peer-reviewed paper mentioning that he has “learned more about the algorithm” since he submitted his paper to JIW. Paquette also summarized his investigation in his May 22, 2023, article for the American Thinker.

In his Substack, Paquette comments on the significance of the paper’s peer review and publication:

“The point of peer review is not to rubber stamp an article (though that may happen at lower quality journals); the point is to perform a thorough check of the article to be sure it is accurate and represents a fair description of the facts both pro and con related to the subject.

Because peer review is a rigorous process, and reviewers tend to be experts, getting through peer review can be likened to putting three expert witnesses on the stand in a court of law to attest to the accuracy of the material.”

Paquette’s paper was reviewed by three peer experts from the JIW who confirmed his analysis was correct with only “minor corrections,” explained Hornik. The article in the Journal of Information Warfare (JIW), Volume 22, Issue 2, is entitled “The Caesar Cipher and Stacking the Deck in the New York State Voter Rolls” by Andrew Paquette.

According to the JIW peer-reviewed paper, “New York State voters are assigned two identification numbers. This study has discovered strong evidence that both numbers have been algorithmically manipulated to produce steganographically concealed record attribute information.” The “secret fraudulent phantom voter infrastructure” allows for the manipulation of elections in a way that is not easily detectable. Dirty voter rolls are often a primary vector for election fraud.

The excerpt below from the JIW paper discusses what seems to be a purposeful alteration of voter registration data to manipulate elections.

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2023 06 11 07 59

The paper also describes findings from the NY Citizens Audit “suggest[ing] that systemic election fraud is built into New York’s electoral process.” Algorithms were found in all 62 counties in New York. Notably, the presence of steganographically concealed records “renders the state’s elections illegal on their face,” explained Hornik.

Two-Plus Years of Persistence and Follow-Through

Volunteers from the NY Citizens Audit investigated New York’s voter registration rolls after the 2020 election only to find that “New York elections massively violate state and federal law,” according to Hornik. The group’s “Deficits Report” showed evidence of falsifying records, registrations with no trackable records, ineligible registrations, phantom voters, and many inaccuracies and discrepancies in the registrations that effectively make the rolls completely unreliable in terms of reflecting actual, registered voters in the state. Their investigation led to a Resolution for Audit requesting a “complete end-to-end audit of the New York State 2022 General Election.”

UncoverDC has closely followed the group’s work and touched base with Hornik again on May 19. Hornik and her volunteers have been actively campaigning at the Capitol in Albany since January 2023 “in order to educate our legislators about our findings, stated in our critically important report, “A Study in Deficits,” summarized here. The “Study in Deficits” report was delivered on January 24, 2023, to 89 members of the New York State Assembly.

Following the submission of the “Study in Deficits report,” Hornik and her volunteers persisted, making “follow-up calls and sending emails to arrange a presentation to the members of the Election Committees of both the Assembly and the Senate. Special efforts were made to communicate comprehensively with the senior staff of Assembly Member Latrice M. Walker, Chair of the Election Law Committee in the Assembly, and Senator Zellnor Y. Myrie, Chair of the Senate Election Committee,” according to Hornik.

Remarkably, Hornik and Paquette ultimately secured a presentation with Election Committee members from each Chamber with a Democratic majority State Assembly. The presentation, “A Technical Briefing: NYSVoter Type 2 Data Breach,” was given on May 1, 2023, in the Legislative Office Building in Albany. Some members could not attend because of the finalization of the state budget that same day. For those who could not attend, a link to a video from the briefing was sent on May 6 to each member.

On May 22, according to Hornik, “a visit was made to Albany to inquire if any action will be taken by the Election Committees of the Assembly and the Senate in order to address the critically important findings that the New York State voter database has been breached. The senior staff of the Chairs of both committees did not offer any assurance that action would be taken.” The Legislative Session ends on June 8.

Hornik is now leading a nationwide initiative to replicate what she and her team have done in New York. She says, in many cases, “the American people have already done the work.” She says it is time to review the findings, meet with legislators, and bring litigation where appropriate. Hornik says she plans to “hold election officials accountable” wherever possible.

Simple Plan – Perfect (Official Video)

OP-ED: Attorney Says Britain and NATO “At War” – Russian Military Strikes Against Them Would Be Lawful

Attorney Christopher Black of Toronto says Britain and NATO are defacto at-war with Russia, and if Russians attack back, it would be LAWFUL.

Begin Op-Ed:

On the 19th of May, the Financial Times quoted the British Minister of Defense, Ben Wallace, stating that the West could face the threat of full-scale war with Russia and China by the end of the decade and proclaimed defence preparation a paramount task for Western countries.

One has to wonder what universe Mr. Wallace and his boss, Rishi Sunak, are living in since Britain is engaged in war with Russia right now, has, with every step, every hostile action, set itself up for a full-scale war, a full-scale catastrophe, which they cannot prevent. Why Britain would go to war with China as well as Russia when China has not threatened it and is oceans away, no one can explain in rational terms. Yet, this is the British rhetoric, the fetishistic parroting of the words of their lord and master, the USA.

Many argue that statements, a war is not happening, that it is something that exits only in the future, are desperate attempts to fool the British people, to lie to them about their government’s intentions and what is coming. Others argue that they are signs that the British government has no sense of reality. But, in the end, one has to conclude that they are both at the same time.

Worse, these statements speak of a government, that seems to think it is untouchable, that the war with Russia will be limited in geographic space to Ukraine, that Britain’s participation in the war against Russia will have no direct consequences for Britain and its people, that Russia will not dare to follow military and political logic and conduct military strikes against Britain. Nothing could be further from the truth, yet the British establishment, dreaming of its past, is unable to accept reality, is leading the British people towards disaster, as the gathering storm of war edges ever closer to their shores.

The deluded thinking in Britain is an extension of the same psychosis that grips all the halls of power in the western world, a psychosis that has its roots in the deeply troubled societies which have developed in the west and whose causes will be the subject of study of future social scientists and historians if there are any. In fact, these governments display observable and classical symptoms of paranoia and delusional disorders, leading to the complete break with reality that constitutes psychosis.  This is a very dangerous state of affairs because someone who is delusional, who has no grip on reality, who cannot make distinctions between reality and imagination or wishful thinking, will make decisions and take actions that are dangerous to everyone around them, in this case, Russia, and beyond, the whole world.

Just after Russian began its Special Military Operation, Britain declared its support for Ukraine along with the rest of NATO and announced it would supply it with weapons and munitions to fight Russia. Maria Zakharova, the Russian foreign ministry spokeswoman, in response, stated that NATO states providing weapons to Ukraine could be hit in strikes.

Ms Zakharova said:

“Do we understand correctly that for the sake of disrupting the logistics of military supplies, Russia can strike military targets on the territory of those NATO countries that supply arms to the Kyiv regime?

“After all, this directly leads to deaths and bloodshed on Ukrainian territory. As far as I understand, Britain is one of those countries.”

The Russian defence ministry, after several attacks inside Russia backed by NATO, has repeatedly said:

“We would like to stress that the direct provoking by London of the Kyiv regime into such activities attacking Russian territory, should there be an attempt to realise them, will immediately lead to our proportional response.”

In April, when the UK announced it was sending depleted uranium tank shells to Ukraine, Russia said it would respond and did so, destroying those munitions in Ukraine just after they arrived, and now a radioactive cloud is drifting west towards Europe and the UK. Russian warnings of the danger of this happening were ignored.

On May 11, Ben Wallace announced a further act of aggression against Russia with the decision to send Storm Shadow cruise missiles to Ukraine, which have since been used to attack civilian centres in Russia. Again, Russia stated clearly that there would be a military response to this action.

On May 23, during his visit to Laos, Deputy Head of the Russian Security Council Dmitry Medvedev issued another warning, on the day Russian security forces destroyed the Ukrainian raiding force that attacked civilians in the Belgorod region, an openly terrorist action backed by the UK and the other NATO states.  From Vientiane, he stated,

“The North Atlantic alliance does not take the threat of nuclear war seriously enough, thus making a big mistake. NATO is not serious about this scenario. Otherwise, NATO would not have supplied such dangerous weapons to the Ukrainian regime. Apparently, they think that a nuclear conflict, or a nuclear apocalypse, is never ever possible. NATO is wrong, and at some point events may take a completely unpredictable turn. The responsibility will be placed squarely on the North Atlantic Alliance,”

Medvedev pointed out that no one knows whether the point of no return has been passed,

“No one knows this. This is the main danger. Because as soon as they provide something, they say: let’s supply this, too. Long-range missiles or planes. Everything will be all right. But nothing will be fine. We will be able to cope with it. But only more and more serious types of weapons will be used. That’s what the current trend is.”

But Russia can strike using its conventional weapons as well, against which the UK has no defence whatsoever.

Still, the British attitude towards these warnings is to call on the magic of “legality” as if they can weave a protective cloak around the island with incantations. Yet, everyone knows that to use incantations to ward off danger, the formula used must have mojo or force; otherwise the words have no effect.

In 2022, for example, then Deputy Prime Minister, Dominic Raab, hit back, after Russia suggested it could target British military installations over its support for Ukraine, by branding the Kremlin’s claim “unlawful.” Wallace, Sunak, and others have repeated this claim multiple times.

Raab, and the rest, can only be right if Britain had maintained its neutrality in the war between Ukraine and Russia. But, as we know, this is really a war by the USA, Britain and their NATO mafia against Russia and has been all along. Ukraine is the present battlefield. So, for Britain to claim that it has maintained neutrality is an absurdity.

A neutral state violates neutrality by breaching its obligation to remain impartial, to not participate in the conflict.  It violates neutrality by supplying warships, aircraft, arms, ammunition, military provisions or other war materials, either directly or indirectly, to a belligerent, by engaging its own military forces, or by supplying military advisors to a party to the armed conflict, by allowing belligerent use of neutral territory as a military base, or for the storage of war material or passage of belligerent troops or munitions in neutral territory, by furnishing troops to a belligerent, or providing or transmitting military intelligence on behalf of a belligerent are also examples of violations of neutrality.

A State’s neutrality ends when the State becomes a party to an armed conflict, or, in other words, a belligerent. A State becomes a belligerent under the law of neutrality by either declaring war; or participating in hostilities to a significant extent, or engages in systematic or substantial violations of its duties of impartiality and non-participation.

Britain meets all the requirements of a co-belligerent, that is, of a party to the war with Russia; it not only supplies munitions and weapon systems to Ukraine with the objective of attacking Russia and Russian forces in Ukraine it has a direct role in directing the war against Russia, including sending military officers and soldiers to advise and operate with the Ukrainian forces, by preventing any peace negotiations -we remember the action of Boris Johnson just as Ukraine and Russia were about to conclude a peace settlement-by the training of Ukrainian soldiers in Britain and transporting them to the front, by supplying the Ukrainian forces with reconnaissance and intelligence data, actively sending aircraft close to the war zone for this purpose, by providing communications systems, by providing financial aid to Ukraine at the same imposing economic warfare measure on Russia, euphemistically termed “sanctions.  These conditions apply to all the NATO allies, of course, but Britain’s role is an especially egregious one.

In fact, Britain’s aggression against Russia began much earlier than 2022. Britain, as part of NATO, supported the insurgency in the Caucasus region in the mid -1990s. Britain took part in the aggression against Yugoslavia in 1999, part of the strategy to attack Russia, eliminating a potential Russian ally, just as Hitler did in 1941. The Georgian attack on Russian forces in 2008 was also supported by NATO.

All through this period, the UK government and media put out a constant stream of propaganda against Russia, culminating in the wild claims by the British that Russia tried to use novichok nerve poison to kill two Russian citizens, the Skripals, in the UK.  That incident had one objective, to prepare the minds of the British people for war with Russia. That no one has seen or heard from the Skripals for several years now, that Britain rejects Russia’s right to meet with them to see if they are all right, is never mentioned in the West. They have disappeared, their fate unknown, two expendable pieces on the chessboard of war.

Lastly, Russia claims, with some evidence to back up their claims, that the UK was involved, with the US and other NATO nations, in the attack on the NordStream Pipeline, an act of war against both Russia and Germany, though the Germans, still occupied by US forces, are required to accept this humiliation and keep quiet.

So British claims that Russia has no legal right to retaliate against it are absurd. Britain, as with all the NATO countries, cannot claim to have a neutral status in the war.  It has become in law and in fact a party to the war.

It follows that any action taken by Russia against the UK to force the UK to stop its assistance to Ukraine and end its participation in the war against Russia will be legitimate under international law and justified under the ancient military doctrine that a nation cannot suffer the attack of another without retaliating to stop the attack and making sure that another attack will not follow.

The NATO gang’s claim of acting in “collective self defence,” a phrase Ben Wallace likes to use a lot, so that they can claim to maintain a neutral status, is not a valid or logical one and does not apply. It is clear that the USA and NATO have been planning an attack on Russia for a long time, and the Ukraine war is a part of this attack. The conspiracy to commit aggression has been developed over decades. Part of the preparation for the war was the overthrow of the elected government of Ukraine and the installation in its place of a puppet government that was then used to attack the Donbass and Russia itself.  They now openly admit that the Minsk Accords were a ruse to stall Russia while they prepared the Ukrainian forces for war against Russia.

Further, they cannot rely on Article 5 of the NATO Treaty, since that clause can only be invoked if there is an unprovoked Russian attack on a NATO country. But when a NATO country attacks Russia, and here we have them all joining in the attack, it is the aggressor and therefore cannot claim to be are acting in self-defence. It is also important to bear in mind Article I of the NATO Treaty, since it requires NATO to act in conformity with the UN Charter. It states

“Article 1

The Parties undertake, as set forth in the Charter of the United Nations, to settle any international dispute in which they may be involved by peaceful means in such a manner that international peace and security and justice are not endangered, and to refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force in any manner inconsistent with the purposes of the United Nations.”

But the NATO nations have done the exact opposite. They have blocked peace at every turn and push Ukraine to keep the war going. Their forces are directly involved.  They have even attempted to expand their military bloc by inviting Finland and Sweden to join the war alliance, in order to increase the forces available to them, with one purpose, to prosecute the war against Russia. They now openly state their objective is to destroy Russia.  So, the NATO nations are not only active co-belligerents in the war, they are, in fact, the main protagonists of the enemy camp that Russia faces.  They are, therefore, all legitimate targets.

But is an attack likely, and what will its nature be, and what will be the consequences? These are questions only the Russian General Staff can know and foresee. We can only speculate. But speculation can be useful, especially for the British people to realise the danger their criminal government is putting them in.

Medvedev warns again of the dangers of nuclear war, but Russia has no need to resort to that to retaliate against Britain. Conventional stand-off weapons will be more effective, and what can the UK do if a strike on military airfields takes place, on port facilities, to stop the shipment of weapons, on army bases where Ukrainian soldiers are trained, on warehouses storing munitions and weapons marked for shipment to Ukraine, or eliminating the UK Trident nuclear submarine force in Scotland, or any number of other targets they could select? They can do nothing.

The National and Defence Strategies Research Group based in the UK stated in a report on Britain’s air defences in 2016, that,

“Since the withdrawal from service of the Bloodhound missile system in the 1980s, the UK’s Air Defence posture has diminished to mainly a homeland benign airspace policing and point defence posture for deployed forces. The UK no longer has a comprehensive, integrated, or robustly layered short to long-range Air Defence capability, nor a credible or enduring operational capacity.”

Nothing has changed since then, except to get worse. In other words, the UK is defenceless against modern Russian stand-off weapons.

I can remember, as a boy, my mother taking me several times on a bus through London. It must have been 1955 or so and I can remember mile upon mile of burnt-out blackened buildings, as far as the eye could see, especially in east London where entire districts were levelled by German bombs.  The country, despite its heroic RAF fighter pilots, could not stop the bombing and then missile attacks which went on for five years.

The British government assured the people before that war, that all would be well, that they would have peace in their time.  But they lied to the people then, as they are lying to them now.  Britain was never the same after that war. It never really recovered from it. Once again, the British government, ever saluting the masters in Washington, leads the British people into a dangerous war, which they were never asked about, and which they do not want. It lies to them about the causes, it lies to them about the fighting, and it lies to them about the dangers they face, placing them in a distant future, and hides from them the consequences of its actions.  The British people must be warned.  Britain is at war, and no amount of bluffing and lying can protect them from the consequences their government is provoking. They are predictable and they will be catastrophic.

Christopher Black is an international criminal lawyer based in Toronto. He is known for a number of high-profile war crimes cases and recently published his novel Beneath the Clouds. He writes essays on international law, politics and world events, especially for the online magazine “New Eastern Outlook”.

Oh come on

It’s not the Leopard

It’s the defense line and it’s layers

Let’s see

Layer 1

You have mined territory which can blow up any tank

Layer 2

You have the Russians with their Helicopters and Aerial fighters who can launch missiles on any tank and position

Layer 3

You have drones who drop munitions on tank positions, causing damage and since it’s impossible to repair the tank in Ukraine, it has to go to Poland and it’s not worth it. So the tank is abandoned

Layer 4

You have Russian MLRS and Artillery that can pound these tanks with longer ranges of as much as 100–150 km against around 60–80 Km for the tanks

Layer 5

Russian Armor

Finally you have Russian Armor (Tanks) and fortifications

Layer 6

Russian Infantry

You see?

Six Layers before you even reach the first line

How can any Tank survive? They may survive the mines and fighters and drones but BANG they will be hit with Artillery or eventually come face to face with T 80s or T 90s which are far superior to the Leopard 2A4s

It’s literally SUICIDE

No Tank can break such a formation


Ukraines present strategy is to punch holes in the Russian line which is so spread out that it is likely to be thinner or non existent in many parts

They will likely saturate the battlefield with APVs and other vehicles to absorb the artillery assaults while the Tanks somehow punch holes and capture some territory

Yet again Russia will be happy with the losses

Ukraine may lose upto 2000 men and 60 vehicles to gain 10 Sq Kms per the latest analysis

Russia may gladly kill 200,000 Ukrainians and 6000 Vehicles to lose 1000 Sq Kms and then capture it again because Ukraine simply cannot arrange another collection of weapons from an Exhausted NATO

By ALAN MACLEOD

Amid a crisis in recruitment, the U.S. military has found a new way of convincing a war-weary Generation Z to enlist: thirst traps.

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2023 06 11 07 48

Chief among these attractive young women in uniform posting sexually suggestive content alongside subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) calls to join up is Hailey Lujan. In between the thirst traps and memes, the 21-year-old makes content extolling the fun of Army life to her 731,000 TikTok followers. “Don’t go to college, become a farmer or a soldier instead,” she instructs viewers in a recent video. “Just some advice for the younger people: if you’re not doing school, it’s ok. I dropped out of college. And I’m doing great,” she adds.

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2023 06 11 07 49

If Lujan feels like a psyop (a psychological operation) it is because, technically, she is. Lujan is a psychological operations specialist; one of a small number of Army personnel whose job is to carry out influence and disinfo operations, either on or offline. Thus, she is using her femininity to recruit legions of lustful teens into an institution with an infamous record of sexism and sexual assault against female soldiers.

According  to Lujan, being a soldier is the “coolest job in the world.” She certainly does make Army life look fun, as she abseils down walls, fires a howitzer, and flies around in an Apache helicopter. “101st airborne division knows what the girls (and boys) really want”, she notes as she plays around with a high-tech, remote controlled robot.

Until late last year, Lujan’s social media accounts were far more tame. But as she pivoted towards content of her in skimpy outfits or suggestive, military-related videos and pictures, her following exploded to nearly three-quarters of a million on TikTok alone. Judging by the comments, her army of followers sees military life in a new light.

There are many active duty service members with large social media followings, but what makes Lujan stand out is her offbeat, Gen-Z style humor and how she leans into the idea that she is a military propaganda operation. With videos titled “My handlers made me post this”, “Not endorsed by the DoD 😉 :3” or “most wholesome fedpost”, she revels in layers of irony and appears to enjoy the whole “am I or aren’t I” question that people in her replies and mentions constantly debate.

The ironyposting is dialed up to 11, however, with Lujan’s own videos about psychological operations. In a video  entitled “no one is immune to propaganda”, she even shares content laying out how the U.S. government manipulates public opinion through the media. In true Gen-Z style, she captioned another of her videos “propaganda this propaganda that let me take a propa ganda at them yitties”.

As many popular e-girls have done, she has diversified her content, producing a calendar  and t-shirts for her battalions of loyal simps to buy. Her official personal website is called Sike Ops.

Lujan’s content appears to be a part of a weird new strategy of military outreach, shocking academics and military experts alike. “My main reaction is disgust and disappointment. People like Lujan are why I ended up declaring myself a conscientious objector during the Iraq War,” Rosa del Duca, adjunct professor of journalism at Diablo Valley College and author of “Breaking Cadence: One Woman’s War Against the War” told MintPress, adding:

I can’t believe she’s getting away with posting some of this stuff. Everyone learns in boot camp that when you are in uniform, you cannot act unprofessionally, or you get in deep trouble. Maybe they [Army brass] saw how popular Lujan’s posts are, and how she’s basically doing recruiting for them and left her alone.”

Matthew Alford, a media and propaganda specialist from the University of Bath, U.K., was similarly amazed by her content. “Lujan’s content and messaging is wild. If she really is being used by the military for recruitment, then we have entered a brave, bizarre new world of Army recruitment strategies,” he told MintPress.

YVAN EHT NIOJ

There is no doubt that Lujan is aware that she functions as a new, avant-garde Army recruitment tool. In one short film made with a fellow military influencer, she stars as the pretty military bait, luring young men into service. Played for laughs, the film shows a young man standing outside an Army recruitment center, deciding not to enlist, only to see the dreamy Lujan enter the building, after which he joins up in a haze of horniness.

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2023 06 11 07 50

Thus, it is clear that Lujan is indeed a military recruitment tool. The only question is whether the famously image-conscious Army merely tacitly approves of her content, or whether they are intimately involved in its production. MintPress asked the Department of Defense for clarification, but has received no response.

Nevertheless, Edward Bernays, the father of modern propaganda, might conclude that it matters little if Lujan is or is not an Army psyop; the consequence is still to get impressionable young men to associate lust with the military, connecting sexual desire with the armed forces – in effect, making them horny for war.

The fact that Lujan is a psychological operations specialist  with the Army makes the whole situation even more suspicious, given that her jobs is to convince, persuade and propagandize in creative new ways. The Army recruitment website description of the role sounds eerily similar to her own content. “As a Psychological Operations Specialist, you’ll be an expert at persuasion,” it reads, adding:

You’ll assess and develop the information needed to influence and engage specific audiences. You’ll broadcast important information through various mediums and assist U.S. and foreign governments, militaries, and civilian populations.”

Multiple videos suggest Lujan is connected with the 101st Airborne Division. Location data shows she is based at Fort Campbell, a large military installation on the Tennessee-Kentucky border that houses the storied division. Last year, she took part in Saber Junction 22, a huge military exercise in Germany, featuring thousands of troops from the U.S., Italy, Romania, Turkey, the United Kingdom, and a host of NATO ally states.

ARMIES OF SIMPS

Lujan is far from the only serviceperson on military TikTok (#MilTok) promoting military life, however. Juliana Keding  – a military policewoman with over 900,000 followers – regularly combines thirst traps with videos about Army life. Meanwhile, U.S. Air Force medic Rylee (@RyeRoast, 468,000 TikTok followers), has even leaned into the idea that her online persona is also a psyop. Yet their content is less overt and there is no hard recruitment sell with them. Indeed, they rarely discuss it at all.

Nevertheless, it is clear that the powers that be appreciate their content subtly promoting military life. The official Air Force media guide states that “You are encouraged to use social media to share your experiences as an Airman” as “Your stories might inspire someone to join the Air Force, support the Air Force, comfort a parent or spouse, improve morale or correct inaccurate information.” Those experiences, however, better be positive ones, as it also warns that sharing the wrong kind of information (i.e. content showing the military in a bad light) “could jeopardize you and your Airman’s career”.

“My leadership is fully aware of my social media and actually are, in fact, very supportive of it” Rylee states in one video , “Id love to get payed [sic] for this lmao” she commented on another, suggesting that hers is a freelance operation.

Perhaps the closest star to Lujan in tone and content is Israeli Defense Forces military policewoman Natalia Fadeev, aka @GunWaifu . With 2.7 million TikTok followers, Fadeev is the queen of the simp-to-soldier pipeline, posting highly suggestive content alongside passionate defenses of Israel. Her videos (many of which have garnered over 1 million views each) suggest that Palestinians are an invented people, that Israel is a safe haven for LGBT groups and that the IDF is the most moral army in the world. In addition to the propaganda, Fadeev has also flirted with the idea that her account is an Israeli psyop.

YOUTUBERS JOIN THE MILITARY

TikTok is not the only battleground for young people’s minds, however. In the last year, a significant portion of the Biden administration’s record-breaking $857 billion defense budget went on advertising. The Army in particular has spent large sums of money collaborating with some of YouTube’s biggest stars to produce barely disguised recruitment videos.

YouTube star Michelle Khare (3.71 million subscribers) “joined the Army” for her video , traveling to Fort Benning, GA, where she tackled obstacle courses, practiced marksmanship, and trained to jump out a plane. Glossing over the fort’s infamous reputation for training many of the world’s most brutal military dictators, the video ends with the message, “To Army soldiers and veterans, thank you for your service.” The description box features multiple pro-Army hashtags, plus an affiliate link to sign up for service. The video has already garnered 2.8 million views.

In April, YouTube mega influencer Ben Azelart released a strikingly similar partnered video to Khare’s, called “YouTubers vs. U.S. Army” in which he also glamorized military life, interviewing one officer who told him that the Army is, at its core, about:

The absolute transformation of the individual into a more accomplished, better version of themselves. As a valued member of a team, stepping out of your comfort zone, doing something new, challenging yourself, but being encouraged along the entire way.”

And like Khare, Azelart was careful to direct his 20.8 million subscribers towards an Army recruitment link, stating, “The challenges we had to endure were both physically and mentally challenging, but so rewarding! The Army is an opportunity, a bridge to self-development, and a place where you can be a valued member of a team regardless of hometown, ethnicity, or gender.”

Meanwhile, pro gaming star Doug “Censor” Martin flew out to Fort Carson, CO, to shoot a fawning extended advertisement for the military, presenting Army life as just like playing military shooter video game “Call of Duty.”

“Without you guys, what do we have?” Martin says to the soldiers he encounters, adding;

We love you; we appreciate all of you guys. If you guys have any interest in joining the Army, there are so many different career paths, over 200 career paths. If you guys want to know any more information, click the links down below. I had so much fun coming out here, this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

This sort of content is far more potent than the simple advertisements between television programs of yesteryear. Firstly, because it is the show and allows the Army to showcase itself to millions of impressionable viewers, most of whom cannot differentiate between paid and unpaid content. Furthermore, it comes courtesy of stars viewers love, respect and trust.

WAR MACHINE

The difference, however, between these and other advertisements YouTube stars run is that they are not selling their suggestible young audiences soda or shoes, but are trying to convince them to join the world’s most sophisticated and ruthless killing machine. A new study from the Costs of War project at Brown University estimated that 4.5 million people have died as a result of the U.S.’ post-9/11 wars, primarily in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Yemen and Pakistan. In addition, the report estimates at least 38 million more people have been forced to flee their homes. Yet this sort of brutal devastation is not even hinted at in these promotional videos.

The United States is a nation addicted to war, spending 229 of its 247 years of existence in some kind of conflict. It controls a network of over 800 military bases spanning the globe, and, according to a Congressional report, has carried out a staggering 251  foreign military interventions since the end of the Cold War in 1991. A new report compiled by the Institute for Policy Studies shows that the U.S. spends more on its military than 144 nations combined.

This constant drive towards war takes a serious toll on those recruits who enlist. The job attrition rate is extremely high; only 17% of active duty military members stay around long enough to earn any pension whatsoever. Veterans complain of broken promises from recruiters, while every year, between 6,000 and 7,000 veterans commit suicide.

Del Luca also noted that women face a particularly hard time. “The military is extremely sexist,” she said;

Even the VA agrees that 1 in 3 women in uniform are sexually assaulted while ‘serving.’ I put ‘serving’ in quotation marks because I don’t see a useful service being done. Young people who join the military are taught how to kill and use weapons and follow orders and shut up.”

These carefully choreographed advertisements say nothing about these harsh realities, instead painting a rosy picture of life in uniform as one of endless opportunities and dignified service.

PROPAGANDA BLITZ

Faced with a shortfall in recruitment, the military has been aggressively marketing itself towards younger and younger generations. The Army has sponsored gaming tournaments, even fielding  their own U.S. Army Esports team and directly trying to recruit teens on streaming sites such as Twitch. The Amazon-owned platform eventually had to clamp down on the practice after the military used fake prize giveaways that lured impressionable young viewers onto recruitment websites.

As detailed in a previous MintPress investigation , the Armed Forces also work closely with video game companies on titles such as “Call of Duty,” flying executives out to ensure they become, in their own words, more “credible advocates” for American power.

Meanwhile, Dr. Alford’s research has exposed how deep the connection between Hollywood and the Pentagon has become, with the Department of Defense essentially co-producing thousands of movies and TV shows. “In our 2017 book  ‘National Security Cinema’ we listed around 2000 titles worked on by the state. By the time our film , ‘Theaters of War’ was out in 2022, we had evidence for 10,000. This suggests an incredible level of public manipulation – and cover up”, he told MintPress.

These titles include a vast array of blockbuster films, including “Iron Man”, “The Avengers” and “Top Gun: Maverick”, all the way down to light entertainment like “Teen Idol”, “The Price is Right” and “The Ellen DeGeneres Show”.

Militaristic propaganda is everywhere in pop culture. Katy Perry’s music video  for “Part of Me” is shot at Camp Pendleton in California and shows the star joining the Marines to better herself. Meanwhile, Major League Baseball held what it called a “military appreciation week” last month, where players, coaches and all on-field personnel were instructed to wear camo “service-inspired” caps and encouraged to sport camo socks, helmets and other gear. Some teams are going further: the Washington Nationals are hosting six “Branch Day” games this summer, dedicated to the six arms of the U.S. military. The events are sponsored by arms manufacturer Raytheon Technologies. Major League Baseball did not respond to MintPress’ questions, but previous ultra-nationalistic displays were not independent outbursts of patriotism, but carefully planned events paid for by the military, meaning that the taxpayer footed the bill to be exposed to such propaganda.

It is now well-established (if not well-known) that the Department of Defense also fields a giant clandestine army of at least 60,000 people whose job it is to influence public opinion, the majority doing so from their keyboards. A 2021 exposé from Newsweek described the operation as “The largest undercover force the world has ever known,” warned that this troll army was likely breaking both domestic and international law, and explaining that,

These are the cutting-edge cyber fighters and intelligence collectors who assume false personas online, employing ‘nonattribution’ and ‘misattribution’ techniques to hide the who and the where of their online presence while they search for high-value targets and collect what is called ‘publicly accessible information’—or even engage in campaigns to influence and manipulate social media.”

The Twitter Files further exposed the Department of Defense’s shadowy propaganda, showing how it worked with Twitter to carry out a Washington-run influence project across the Middle East, even as Twitter claimed it was working to shut down foreign-backed disinformation operations.

NOT OUR WAR

For all the creatively dystopian attempts to market itself as a positive force to young people, it is far from clear whether the military is succeeding in its goal. 2022 saw the lowest  recruitment figures since the draft was abolished in 1973. The Army alone missed its enlistment target by 25%, or 15,000 active-duty soldiers. The numbers for 2023 are expected to be even more dismal. A great number of Generation Z do not qualify for service on medical grounds, and even fewer wish to join. According to a recent survey, America’s youth are decidedly against becoming a cog in the war machine; only 9% of Zoomers express any interest in enlisting in the Armed Forces.

This, according to U.S. Secretary of the Army Christine Wormuth, is in large part down to many “misconceptions” people have about soldiers being sexually harassed, developing PTSD or driven to suicide by what they have seen. Others, such as del Luca, might consider those justified concerns. The military, she says, preys on desperate idealistic teens trying to find a way out of their life circumstances or go to college.

Every single veteran you meet will tell you that the expectations they had before enlisting were wildly different from how their service ended up,” she said; “I hope teens wise up to the fact that they are being hunted and lured by recruiters who have a quota to fill… If the military was a great, honorable profession, then they wouldn’t need to spend $6 billion a year bribing people to join.”

While it is still not certain whether they are actually directing and paying for it, what is clear is that the U.S. military is hoping that E-girls will be part of their recruitment solution, turning armies of horny American teens from simps into soldiers.

Santana – Smooth (Stereo) ft. Rob Thomas

By Andrew Kory.bko

JUN 7, 2023

main qimg d9d9f4234c37f6de06907222fe002384
main qimg d9d9f4234c37f6de06907222fe002384

Turkiye just threw the US and Ukraine into a dilemma since going along with the investigation risks revealing incontrovertible evidence that Kiev blew up the Kakhovka Dam while declining to participate makes them look guilty in the court of public opinion

Turkish President Erdogan proposed the creation of a multilateral committee

for investigating the Kakhovka Dam explosion during a call with President Putin on Wednesday. He suggested that it could comprise the two conflicting parties, the UN, and members of the international community such as his country, which has experience mediating between Moscow and Kiev during their grain deal talks. This was a genius soft power move that’ll powerfully shape global perceptions about this incident.

Russia and Ukraine blame one another for this terrorist attack, and while many might have predicted that the US would take its proxy’s side, National Security Council spokesman John Kirby said

on Tuesday that “we cannot say conclusively what happened at this point.” This stance is almost certainly attributable to the fact that Ukrainian Major General Andrey Kovalchuk boasted to the Washington Post

in December about how Kiev tested blowing up the dam with US-supplied HIMARS missiles late last year.

Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova made sure that the entire world knew about this too by bringing it up during a press briefing the day after. She rhetorically asked

US officials “Were you aware of how American weapons, the weapons that are being supplied to Ukraine, are used? That trial tests of a terrorist attack against civilian infrastructure in third countries are being made? These are the questions that we directly pose in the public space before the White House; you must answer them.”

Considering that the US officially regards the dam’s destruction as a war crime, which its Alternative Representative to the UN for Special Political Affairs Robert Wood emphasized

during Tuesday’s Security Council meeting about this, it has every reason to support the investigation that Turkiye just proposed. As for Kiev, it insists that Russia was to blame, so refusing to participate in a truly neutral multilateral investigation would come off as incredibly suspicious by suggesting that it has something to hide.

The US and Ukraine, which are the principal antagonists in the NATO-Russian

proxy war, are therefore pressured to go along with this initiative from their mutual Turkish partner lest they risk stoking speculation that they’re afraid of a dark truth emerging. Neither can credibly imply that Ankara has any ulterior motives in proposing this investigation either since it’s a NATO ally that’s consistently voted against Russia at the UNGA and has even armed Kiev with drones

for use against Moscow’s troops.

Therein lies the reason why President Erdogan’s proposal was such a genius soft power move since it puts those two in a dilemma. Going along with the investigation risks revealing incontrovertible evidence that Kiev blew up the Kakhovka Dam while declining to participate makes them look guilty in the court of public opinion. Regardless of whatever they choose to do, Turkiye comes off as responsible member of the international community, which boosts its global prestige and especially that of its multipolar leader

I am from Denmark myself, I have lived in Chongqing for the past four years but I have also spent time in Beijing, Shanghai, Changsha and Luoyang.

Many Chinese people tend to think that Chongqing girls are very beautiful. But like some others have said, it is an Asian beauty that isn’t always appreciated in the same way by foreigners. I am generally more attracted to Asian girls than western girls so I might be a bit biased. My girlfriend is a Chongqing local and when I tell people that, they’ll joke that I am very lucky to have such a beautiful girl. One thing that Chongqing girls have going for them is their light skin due to the sun mostly being covered, and because Chongqing is very hilly they often also have nicely defined legs and butts which I think any guy would appreciate. On top of that, Chongqing girls have long legs and I think the average Chongqing girl is a bit taller than most other chinese girls.

As far as I understand, the girls in Chongqing are also favorites because of their attitude. I find the girls here, especially in the main shopping areas, tend to dress nicely, they do their makeup quite well and also dress for their figure. They have a better sense of fashion and style than girls I’ve met in smaller cities like Luoyang and Changsha. But girls in Shanghai tend to be dressed in a more sophisticated manner, perhaps more classy, and I tend to like that more personally.

Chinese guys tend to like girls from the south because they are more cutesy and more dependent on their partners whereas girls from the north tend to be stronger and taller. Similarly, Chinese girls tend to prefer guys from the north because they’re taller and stronger. Many guys in Chongqing aren’t very tall and can appear less dominant than their northern counterparts.

But I also see a lot of girls in Chongqing whom I consider to be average looking. It is not that everyone here in chongqing is beautiful, but I do think that the beautiful girls here are in fact very beautiful. It may also be common in other cities but now that spring is here you’ll often see photographers with long zoom lenses hanging out around the malls photographing the pretty girls from a distance. It seems commonplace but I, personally, find it slightly on the creepy side.

Why are Men Saying NO ?

For the 20-sometings out there…

Medvedev: “British Politicians Now Legitimate Military Target for Russia”

2023 06 11 08 04
2023 06 11 08 04

British politicians are now a legitimate military target for Moscow, a senior Russian official said, after the U.K.’s Foreign Secretary James Cleverly argued Ukraine has the right to use force within Russian borders.

Speaking in Estonia Tuesday, Cleverly said Ukraine “has a right” to project force “beyond its own borders” as part of its self-defense, following a series of drone strikes that hit Moscow’s wealthiest neighborhoods.  The map below shows the Drone impact locations:

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2023 06 11 08 05

The U.K. minister argued that Kyiv striking inside Russia would “undermine” the Kremlin’s ability to continue its war in Ukraine, which has officially denied responsibility for the attack.

Dmitry Medvedev, former Russian president and deputy chair of the Russian Security Council, hit back on Wednesday arguing that the U.K. is “de facto leading an undeclared war against Russia” by supplying Ukraine with military aid and specialists.

“That being the case, any of its public officials (either military, or civil, who facilitate the war) can be considered as a legitimate military target,” he wrote on Twitter.

Medvedev, who regularly makes blunt remarks about the war in Ukraine and has called for the killing of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, warned: “The goofy officials of the U.K., our eternal enemy, should remember that within the framework of the universally accepted international law which regulates modern warfare, including the Hague and Geneva Conventions with their additional protocols, their state can also be qualified as being at war.”

Cleverly’s remarks meanwhile appear to be at odds with the U.S.’ position. White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said at a briefing Tuesday that the U.S. was still gathering information on the reports of drones striking in Moscow.

“We do not support attacks inside of Russia. That’s it. Period,” she said.

Sheryl Crow – All I Wanna Do

  1. It started out as strong in agriculture;
  2. Then it developed a writing system;
  3. Then it developed an urban community and culture;
  4. Then it developed a system of government bureaucracy which would unite the urban and rural cultures under a single government bureaucracy;
  5. The government bureaucracy engaged in building canals to open up more land for agriculture; this made the population go up;
  6. Then it developed a military system to defend itself from nomadic cultures in the north.
  7. With Confucianism, the Chinese developed a practical social and political philosophy for social order which did not depend on worshipping any gods.

Basically, it started small and built up and became stronger over time. The writing system and Confucianist political philosophy attracted the interest and adoption of kingdoms around China’s periphery.

This meant that when it came to adopting an urban culture, political and social philosophy and writing system, Annam (Vietnam), the kingdoms of the Korean peninsula and Japan, these kingdoms mostly copied then modified what they got from China. For hundreds of years, being able to read and write in classical Chinese was the mark of the educated elite ruling class.

A sophisticated agriculture and food distribution system meant that Chinese dynasties were able to feed much larger populations than found in Europe.

I was a primary school teacher for barely one year and accompanied my school to an away primary school netball game!

At one point during the game the home team was very rough and mean towards my team so much so they drew blood!

After 3 of my players received very serious scratches requiring first-aide I shouted from the sidelines. “Stop being so vicious!”

The teacher/coach overheard my comment and immediately stopped the game!

She then demanded that I explain to her why I was calling her players “vicious?”

I explained to her that they were unnecessarily rough and was demonstrating poor sportsmanship with verbal abuse!

She immediately ended the game!

She claimed that she ended the because I was disrespecting her players while I believed she ended the game because we were ahead by 10 points!

Uuummm … not only vicious but sore losers… 😂!

Blessings!

Lenny Kravitz – It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over

Years ago I worked at a business that had a big construction job located across the street. Our neughborhood was really rough. There was lots of crime, a homeless encampment out back and city lockup on the corner. From time to time some nitwit would try to park a big construction vehicle in our lot, which inhibited our doing business. Normally I’d see them parking outside my office window and ask them to move but once in a while I would be running around someplace and wouldn’t know how to get rid of the vehicle once the driver had left.

One day I got back to my desk and noticed a big dump truck was in our lot but I was too busy to deal with the problem just then and the truck was gone the next time I looked. I was the last person leaving that day, several hours later. An angry construction worker approached me asking where I’d had his truck towed to. I assured him I hadn’t had it towed, in fact, it’s quite difficult and costly to get a vehicle that size towed so I was certain that my employees hadn’t had it towed either. He asked me where it was then. I wanted to say it wasn’t my day to watch it but instead told him that one of his coworkers must have retrieved it. He said “no” and I asked who else had access to the key. He responded “no one, They were in the truck.” I expected him to realize his mistake but he still seemed to believe I’d hidden that giant truck. I wished him luck and went home. I assume his boss explained why he was fired after he filed a grand theft report.

Name 1, just 1, product or service that Canada sells to China that is irreplaceable. That is called market-making power.

America has its chips, airliners, pharmaceuticals, instrumentation, and of course, the dollar.

What does Canada have?

Canada is 38 million, blessed with unnatural abundance in natural resources. The economy is primarily commodity export driven, and joined at the umbilical with the US’s equally unnatural consumption.

Canada will rank 17th out of 33 administrative regions (inclusive of HK and Macau) for population. If Canada were to pit itself against Shaanxi, the 16th-ranked province, there may be a story.

Otherwise, it is just senseless chatter.

Edit: From the comments, for posterity. God save the king, for he doesn’t need enemies surrounded by ______.

China actually buys a decent amount from us. They are also invested in a good number of companies here. In order for China to get access to the North American automotive sector, in most cases they need to run factories out of Canada, USA or Mexico. We have a pretty skilled labour force with an attractive currency and health care system.

We also supply oil, grains, NG, fertilizer, beef and teach the idiots over there how to mfg our high tech jobs we sent over and can bring back if need be.

So if you wanna sit there and discuss who's dick is bigger, go right ahead…. We don't need shit from China, because at the end of the day we are fully capable of supplying all the resources and food needed here, while subbing out the cheap mfg/labour to other countries.

You will continue to make shit for us.

Hoppin’ John

Hoppin’ John is one of the finest comfort foods of the South, and it is traditionally served at the New Year.

Hopping John SQ
Hopping John SQ

Ingredients

  • 1 pound smoked sausage, sliced, or 1 pound pork, cubed
  • 4 (15 ounce) cans black-eyed peas, undrained
  • 2 (10 ounce) cans Ro*Tel
  • 3 cups beef broth
  • 1 cup finely chopped onion
  • 3/4 cup chopped green bell pepper
  • 2 teaspoons Cajun/Creole seasoning
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 1/2 cups uncooked rice

Instructions

  1. Cook sausage or pork in a large skillet until browned, about 5 minutes.
  2. Place sausage in slow cooker. Add remaining ingredients, except rice. Cover and cook on LOW for 6 hours.
  3. Pour uncooked rice into slow cooker. Stir. Cover and cook on HIGH for 20 to 30 minutes, or until rice is tender.

This Billionaire just DESTROYED America’s woke school system

“Today I was extremely sad and I thought “I can’t wait to go home and see my cat, he will make me happy”.

Ok well I found out he was more depressed than me”

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main qimg 63f9fbb8516e5a6b331de12639e07d79

The Story Of The Chinese Farmer

Once upon a time there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all of his neighbors came around to commiserate. They said, “We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate.” The farmer said, “Maybe.” The next day the horse came back bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening everybody came back and said, “Oh, isn’t that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!” The farmer again said, “Maybe.” 

The following day his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbors then said, “Oh dear, that’s too bad,” and the farmer responded, “Maybe.” The next day the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again all the neighbors came around and said, “Isn’t that great!” Again, he said, “Maybe.”

The whole process of nature is an integrated process of immense complexity, and it’s really impossible to tell whether anything that happens in it is good or bad — because you never know what will be the consequence of the misfortune; or, you never know what will be the consequences of good fortune.

– Alan Watts

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Europe is riding a bumpy ride in the gallop towards the abyss

Yesterday, I was leaving the office and went to the bus station. (I tend to take the Zhuhai bus instead of driving. It’s cheap and I don’t have to fight traffic.) And there was my bus.

So I waved at the bus driver with my QR and tried to get to the the bus, but there was this doddering older couple just blocking the way. So I tried to get around them. Sure as shit, they moved in front of me, so I went around the other direction, there they still moved in front of me..

Intentional?

Poor sensory awareness?

Just pissed off and looking for a patsy?

I don’t know

So I got off the sidewalk, as it was blocked every which way I turned. And got off the bus station, and went on the road still waving my QR to the driver.

Wouldn’t you know it, but that senile couple jumped off the sidewalk and still continued to block me.

They actually got in front of me on the road!!!!

No shit. They got off the sidewalk. and blocked my path to the bus as I was trying to get to it on the street.

What was their malfunction?

So I forcefully plowed around them and got on the bus. Not rudely. I did everything I could to avoid touching them. I arched my back and scraped the incoming other bus with my backpack.

But, boy oh boy,  they started up a bunch of complaining and bitchin! Some times I wonder why they picked on me to hassle. I’m not some dumb kid, I know when I’m being “cock blocked” intentionally, and three times is NOT an accident.

When you are in China, you may come across these senile old fixed minded people that start treating you disrespectfully, mistakenly believing that they (due to their age) will get an automatic pass for their behaviors. As they normally do.

The old are revered in China.

But not everyone is deserving.

I think that that kind of behavior is common in Washington DC these days…

Rear Adm. Mike Studeman might be referring to the phenomenon where individuals or organizations fail to recognize or intelligently address the strategic threat posed by China’s role as a significant global power.

This term “China Blindness” has been used to describe a range of issues related to China. In particular, it refers to a serious lack of understanding of what China is, how it operates, and what it is capable of. It is a “catch all” phrase that describes a cloud of ignorance of what China actually is today.

The Admiral is admonishing his peers as a warning. To believe the false narratives encapsulated in the public narrative is to risk serious defeat on the battlefield. To engage China, one must be realistic, and fully address the harsh and uncomfortable reality that confronts the USN. If it fails to do so, it could result in catastrophe.

As far as I can understanding it, the use of this term suggests a need for greater awareness and friendly engagement with China. As opposed to the politically-driven narratives of forcing and pushing China to follow United States dictates.

US is 8,300 miles away from home in Chinese water. China will do it again and again. I have no question.

Why Do Europeans Dislike Americans So Much?

Baked Fresh Ham, Southern Style

Yield: 8 to 10 servings

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2023 06 10 11 15

Ingredients

  • 6 pound fresh ham
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 hot dried red pepper
  • 1 cinnamon stick
  • 2 tablespoons salt
  • 1 tablespoon powdered mustard
  • 1 tablespoon horseradish
  • 1 garlic clove
  • Whole cloves
  • 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar

Instructions

  1. Put ham in kettle and cover with boiling water. Add next 4 ingredients. Bring to boil. Cover and simmer for 2 hours.
  2. Cool in the broth and refrigerate overnight.
  3. Remove rind from ham.
  4. Mix mustard and horseradish and rub on fat. Insert garlic in the fat. Put on rack and bake in preheated slow oven (300 degrees F) for 2 hours.
  5. Score fat with a knife, stud with cloves and sprinkle with the sugar.
  6. Bake for 1 hour longer, basting occasionally with drippings in the pan.

BLACK AMERICAN SHOCKS EUROPEANS SPEAKING 6 LANGUAGE

Graphic Art Between Renaissance And Modernity

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The French artist Benedicte Piccolillo, graphic designer and street artist, is the talent hidden behind Voglio Bene. Based in Mauguio, South of France, she creates from “coups de Coeur” that she may have had on old paintings from masters. Initially a photographer, the artist is self-taught in digital graphic creation.

“I can fall in love with a piece from the Middle Ages as well as a Mannerist painting. My favorite period remains the Renaissance, especially Italian, but also Spanish. It is full of religious paintings, each one more beautiful than the next, which maintains and delights my spiritual sidem” she explains.

Depuis quelques années, Bénédicte s’intéresse de plus en plus à l’histoire de l’art et veut donner une dimension plus culturelle à son travail. “French castles and museums are beginning to be seduced and to approach me in order to launch collaborations”, she added.

More: Benedicte Piccolillo, Instagram h/t: fubiz

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Just came back from visiting Xinjiang:

  • Their culture and religion is respected. All street names, airports etc. include the Arab characters as well. Mosques are open.
  • Economy and daily life is fine. The population is half Uyghurs and half Han and they live ok together, normally.
  • Security is very tight. Police, road blocks and monitoring of individuals movements anytime and anywhere. But couldn’t see any abuse or disrespectful attitude by the security forces.
  • I believe that there is zero tolerance to any radicals and potential jihadists. Unlike the west who only RESPONDS to terrorism (rather than PREVENT it in advance), China takes preemptive measures. Gets more scolded by the world but keeps its citizens out of harm’s way.

This haunting photo of Nicholas Mevoli, an American free diver, has been seared into my mind.

It was on November 17, year 2013, when he did his final free dive while attempting to set a new (American) deep dive record.

He had attempted to dive to 236 ft/72 m on a single breath. He began to turn back at 223 ft/68m, but somehow changed his mind and dived further downward.

He surfaced, gave the OK sign, tried to speak, then promptly passed out.

This picture was taken just moments before he passed out.

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main qimg 5de67c87ee54bcf24bbb45aa49c0d02c lq

The look in his eyes…he looks scared stiff, frozen in fear, as if he knows what is going to happen.

Unfortunately, he never regained consciousness after that and passed away soon after.

His death was caused by breathing complications due to pulmonary edema (meaning fluid accumulation in the tissue and air spaces of the lungs).

At least some semblance of peace may be gained by his family from the fact that he passed away doing what he loved.

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main qimg f24eba38e1be76713e0328624356094a lq

The younger of my two sons had been quite a problem as a teenager. We fought and I was worried about his character. Jeremy flunked out of college.

In his 20s, he worked in desktop computer support. The other support tech was senior to Jeremy, but Jeremy neither liked nor respected him. Nonetheless, the senior tech invariably got his way. Of course. Then one day the manager found out that the senior tech was gay. He dismissed him.

My son discovered this about 10:00. By 10:15 he had quit, informing the manager that he could not work for a company which treated its workers unfairly. He had no job, but his integrity was intact.

At that moment, I learned that I had raised a man possessed of both morality and strength of character.

As it happens, three weeks later Jeremy had a new job at nearly twice the salary of the tech job he had quit. Things worked out rather well, all in all.

BORDER EVACUATED, Nukes Being Moved Miles From NATO Summit, Huge Fires, 72 HR WW3 Exercise

Hampton Plantation Shrimp Pilau

Hampton Plantation was once the largest rice producer in the United States.

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9d0de4bc21db277bdb47b8ca391f6291

Ingredients

  • 6 to 8 slices bacon
  • 2 cups shrimp (raw, cleaned – save shrimp peelings)
  • 1 cup rice, uncooked
  • 3 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 cup celery, diced
  • 2 tablespoons green bell pepper, diced
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons flour
  • 1 dash salt, to taste
  • 1 dash pepper, to taste

Instructions

  1. Fry bacon until crisp. Set bacon aside. Reserve bacon grease to add to water when cooking rice.
  2. In a large frying pan on medium high heat, melt butter.
  3. Add celery and green pepper and saute until soft and tender.
  4. Add shrimp which have been sprinkled with Worcestershire sauce and dredged in flour.
  5. Sauté shrimp until pink, about 3 to 4 minutes.
  6. Season with salt and pepper.
  7. Add cooked rice and mix until rice is all “buttery” and “shrimpy.”
  8. Stir in crumbled bacon.
  9. Serve hot.

How brain dead are the US leadership?

For years the US has been sanctioning China and now the US “won’t tolerate” a taste of their own medicine.

China doesn’t need the US, but the US needs China. Perhaps the US must be careful now and realise that their attempts at being “tough” on China to please their own voters look very stupid indeed in the international arena; the REAL WORLD.

American vs. European Suburbs (and why US suburbs suck)

This is surprisingly good.

There is only one country here – the United States. As for Japan and the Philippines, they are American poodles, they do whatever their owners tell them to do, and they have no autonomy.

Is it possible that every time a US aircraft carrier crosses the Taiwan Strait or a US reconnaissance plane snoops over the South China Sea, it calls the China side in advance?

Once China side doesn’t answer the phone, Removal of guardrail, can’t the US playing “match-fixing” without fear?

Now, do US aircraft carriers dare to come to the Taiwan Strait?

Why have you lost your courage?

Isn’t the United States boasting all day about its control over the world?

Isn’t the United States boasting about its invincibility all day?

What are America’s “superheroes” afraid of?

Since there is no guardrail, the United States needs to find its own way!

Or, child, go back to your own home early, it is safest to move around outside your own home and risk areas are not the place for child to come.


Without high-level communication, many things would be different. You know!

Our soldiers cannot always exercise restraint if the enemy keeps snooping at our doorstep, and invaders from countries outside the region are not always lucky enough to return intact.

Our bomber pilots are very “not professional”, so if they get nervous and their hands shake and they accidentally “mistakenly bombed” a US aircraft carriers, we can only express our regret. 🤣

US bombers have “mistakenly bombed” the PRC Embassy in the FRY, and so can Chinese bombers. Wouldn’t you say that’s the case?

  • Calls to the Saudi Arabia side hotline from the US side, which the Saudi Arabia side do not answer.
  • Calls to the UAE side hotline from the US side, the UAE side does not answer.
  • Calls to the China side hotline from the US side, and China side doesn’t answer.

What does that mean?

It’s time for the United States to think about it and get a phone that works – Huawei P50s. Lol!

Working in USA vs The Netherlands: 12 Biggest Differences

His name is Liu Zhaohua, who won the second prize in the chemistry competition when he was in school, taught himself to make 31 tons of drugs(methamphetamine), with a purity of 99%, and became China’s largest drug lord(He had only 9 years of schooling)! Until now many drug dealers are secretly inquiring, what method Liu Zhaohua used to make methamphetamine, what crystallization method he used.

Synthesized with various common chemical reagents, not based on ephedrine production. He changed the substrate and catalyst of the reaction and adopted the continuous generation + continuous crystallization method in 1999.

In terms of daily production, he can easily crystallize 1,000,000 grams of methamphetamine a day, which is one ton, and if it can be sold, five tons a day is not a problem. In terms of conversion rate he claims to have a conversion rate of 90%. Such a high capacity, such a high conversion rate, drug quality is still very good, and the production process is very environmentally friendly and pollution-free, even more environmentally friendly than some pharmaceutical plants, so much so that many top chemical and chemical experts and scholars can not believe.

Until today, there is not a single drug maker in the world, including some professor-level ones who can reach the overall quality (purity, crystallization, and appearance) of the meth produced by Liu Zhaohua. They may have no problem with the theoretical aspects, but the process technology they master cannot do it.

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main qimg 8396a73d2b38f38af6841db050cb2c11 lq

He has a high IQ and an extremely strong psychological quality. He escaped from Guangzhou on his bicycle under the circumstances that the police had barricaded him all over the city, and carved “Liu Zhaohua, came here to visit” on the cave where he had been hiding, which made the police furious. At that time, Liu Zhaohua was staying in room 818 of the President Hotel in Guangzhou. The police were quickly dispatched and rushed to the President Hotel in Guangzhou, and at this time Liu Zhaohua had just returned to the hotel from outside. At the critical moment, Liu Zhaohua did not immediately twist and turn to flee the scene, but made an amazing move. He and the investigator took the same elevator, see the investigator pressed the 8th floor, Liu Zhaohua immediately pressed the 7th floor. And on the day of November 4, the Guangzhou police deployed a large number of police officers to impose martial law on the entry and exit gates and major traffic routes in the city. In particular, the suspicious vehicles leaving Guangzhou were checked, and the check was very tight. Buses, cabs, private cars along with cars hauling goods were checked one by one. Liu Zhaohua, who walked out of the President Hotel, knew very well that there would be checkpoints to arrest him at all major traffic roads in Guangzhou. The police will definitely check the vehicles entering and leaving the intersection of Guangzhou, so Liu Zhaohua chose a way to escape that no one expected – a bicycle. For Liu Zhaohua this is naturally the best disguise, Liu Zhaohua just rode a bicycle to escape from Guangzhou under the heavy police siege. And this is already the second time Liu Daohua slipped away from under the nose of the police.

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main qimg 9f66a087a1e6845cf3bf8c7d9c2d92b8 lq

(Liu Zhaohua’s second wife)

He has three wives in the same time and four children, and his golden words are popular in the love scene: “The first wife is my favorite, the second wife is my most loving, and the third wife is my most loving.

In 2000. Liu Zhaohua settled in Quanzhou County, Guilin, Guangxi under the name of Li Senqing.He lived here, got married and had children, and was well known in the area. The neighbors of this “Mr. Li” said that he was kind to people, but rather petty, a rich man with the air of a small citizen. This time, Liu Zhaohua disguised very successfully. In fact, during the escape Liu Zhaohua also became a important guest of the local government. He leased more than 24,000 acres of land in the Phoenix Forestry in Lingui County, Guilin, claiming to complete a project with a total investment of 300 million yuan in three years. So, why is he going to do by renting so much forest land? Liu Zhaohua claimed that he did not have a sense of accomplishment in doing methamphetamine, while planting red bean fir gave him a sense of accomplishment because the area he planted was the largest in the world.

Liu Zhaohua is both cunning and arrogant, he does not follow common sense and believes that the most dangerous place is instead the safest. This is an important reason why he successfully escaped from the chase several times. During the years in Guilin, Guangxi, Liu Zhaohua made a big show of running his own business. The most important thing is that he did not shy away from getting himself into the newspaper and even became a local celebrity. on February 6, 2013, the Guilin Evening News reported a full-page story about a resident who bravely fought the thieves, and the resident who bravely caught three thieves was Liu Zhaohua, who changed his name.

After being caught, he said to the police in prison: “You can ask what you want to know, make a list, but don’t play with my intelligence, you can’t play with me.”

In court he sophomorically argued, “I don’t sell my drugs to domestic people, only to foreigners; foreigners used to open China’s doors with opium, and I should open their doors with meth too.”

In the eyes of the police, he is a misguided chemical genius who has cleverly escaped mass arrests by the police many times; in the circle of drug production and trafficking, he is a legend that cannot be replicated; in the eyes of his mother, he is a good student; in the eyes of his three wives, he is a master of “time management”; in the eyes of his children, he is a cold-blooded father who only cares about birth but not nurturing.

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main qimg deb0e6a49d5ee0d67bdfb94be4faae66 lq

Some people once described Liu Zhaohua as a real-life version of China’s “Walter White(Breaking Bad)”.The profession does not agree with this statement, because even Walter White, who has the aura of a protagonist, is several notches below Liu Zhaohua, both in terms of drug production technology (including methamphetamine quality) and production scale.

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main qimg aa8f80b20a3c34cf20e9c50c21484b7a lq

In terms of influence, the fictional Walter White is even more incomparable. Liu Zhaohua is very famous in the global drug trafficking and drug production circles, and the Mexican drug lord “Shorty” Guzman, who was just released from prison in 2002, immediately sent his pals to inquire about the whereabouts of Liu Zhaohua, who was on the run, and wanted to pay a lot of money to seek cooperation.

In terms of life experience, Liu Zhaohua is also more legendary than Walter White in the movie and TV series.He has been a soldier and a bailiff. He has made meritorious achievements and received commendations. During his time in office, he was the backbone that every leader wanted to focus on training. If not engaged in drug trafficking, he has a bright future.

Of course, in terms of social harm, Liu Zhaohua is also worse, as he made 31 tons of methamphetamine. With his own power to influence the behavior of several industries in China, for example, the use of hydrochloric acid in some corporate factories, research institutions, schools, etc. need to be reported first.

American turned Dutch: Giving up US Citizenship

These are the same Russian submarines, which protected the Indian Navy by becoming a shield against America in the 1971 war.

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main qimg 3db5ea1f9fc15a2a0ef103073ed69a71 lq

A story that has almost been erased from the Indian history books.

50 years ago in 1971, the US threatened India to stop the 1971 war. Concerned India sent an SOS to the Soviet Union. When Pakistan’s defeat in the 1971 war seemed easy, Kissinger prompted Nixon to send the US 7th Fleet Task Force, led by the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier USS Enterprise, to the Bay of Bengal.

USS Enterprise, 75,000 tons, was the world’s largest nuclear-powered aircraft carrier in the 1970s with over 70 fighters. A moving monster on the surface of the sea. The Indian Navy’s fleet was led by Vikrant, a 20,000-tonne aircraft carrier, carrying 20 light combat aircraft. Officially, the USS Enterprise was sent to the Bay of Bengal to protect American citizens in Bangladesh, while unofficially it was to intimidate the Indian Army and prevent the liberation of East Pakistan.

Further, Soviet intelligence reported to India that a powerful British naval fleet led by the aircraft carrier HMS Eagle along with the commando carrier HMS Albion, along with several destroyers and other ships were approaching the Arabian Sea from the west in Indian waters.

The British and Americans planned a coordinated naval attack to intimidate India: British ships in the Arabian Sea would target India’s west coast, while the Americans would attack in Chittagong. The Indian Navy was caught between British and American ships. That was December 1971, and the world’s two major democracies were now threatening the world’s largest democracy.

An SOS from Delhi was sent to Moscow. The Red Navy soon dispatched 16 Soviet naval units and six nuclear submarines from Vladivostok to block the USS Enterprise.

Admiral N Krishnan, the chief of the Eastern Command of the Indian Navy, wrote in his book ‘No Way But Surrender’ that he feared the Americans would reach Chittagong. He mentioned how he thought of attacking the Enterprise in a do-or-die trick to slow it down.

On 2 December 1971, a task force of the US 7th Fleet led by the water giant USS Enterprise arrived in the Bay of Bengal. The British fleet was coming into the Arabian Sea.

The world held its breath.

But, unknown to the Americans, they were overtaken by submerged Soviet submarines.

As the USS Enterprise headed for East Pakistan, Soviet submarines came to the fore without warning. Soviet submarines now stood between India and American naval forces.

Americans_surprised_surprised_.

The 7th US Fleet Commander told Admiral Gordon: “Sir, we are too late. The Soviets are here!” no choice but to retreat. Both the American and British fleets retreated.

Today, most Indians have forgotten this huge naval chess battle between the two superpowers in the Bay of Bengal. It is important to know and remember.

Why ask questions that you know the answer to?

What are you, a sadist? Asking the same old questions day in, and day out. Hoping, praying, waiting, for some other tidbit of information that would make the reality easier to digest?

On paper, in theory, all of the 11 aircraft carriers that the United States fields (10 Nimitz and 1 Ford), could be destroyed by Chinese conventionally-armed DF-26 “carrier Killer” missiles. Given the flight times for the latest upgrades for the hyper-velocity versions of the DF-26 anticipated stopwatch from launch to destruction is within five minutes within the 4000 Km range.

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2023 06 10 15 46

They are very effective. And are designed to completely destroy Aircraft carriers.

From time to time, China takes them out as a warning to overly aggressive American neocons that are getting “too big for their britches”.

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2023 06 10 16 18

These units are not the ONLY weapons systems that are designed to destroy carrier flotillas, islands, and large bases like in Guam or Hawaii. There are many others. It’s just that the DF-26 is particularly good at it. Given the enormous numbers of launchers, and the insane levels of stockpiled munitions, one can only assume that all targets from land bases to submarines will be the prey for this missile.

The DF-26 appears to be designed specifically for high precision conventional strikes. The most likely target for the DF-26 missile would be Guam going by the range of the missile. Given the nature of the targets in Guam, which are mostly air bases (Guam has two large air bases where, as revealed by satellite imagery, B-52 squadrons are deployed), the DF-26 might be carrying specially designed cluster based bomb-lets to cause maximum damage to bombers spread out on the tarmac. In addition, there could be a specially designed deep penetration warhead for Hardened and Deeply Buried Targets (HDBTs).

Now, for the longest time, the USN and the ONI have been very quiet about the massive exponential increase in Chinese weapon lethality, survival-ability, and technology. The reports have been duly logged. The studies have been gamed out. The results and conclusions have been presented, filed and forgotten.

But it has only been during the last year that the USN admirals have become increasingly frenzied when dealing with hawkish Administration and Senate members. These people are not taking “no” for an answer, and want to find some edge; some justification, to “pull off” a “successful” war against China.

So, sometime, within the last nine months or so, the ONI through a number of key admirals, laid out the reality to the neocon “war hawks”.

And they are horrified.

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2023 06 10 16 19

The Chinese “just ran rings around us,” said former Joint Chiefs Vice Chair Gen. John Hyten in one after-action report. “They knew exactly what we were going to do before we did it.”

Dozens of versions of the above war-game scenario have been enacted over the last few years, most recently in April by the House Select Committee on competition with China. And while the ultimate outcome in these exercises is not always clear — the U.S. does better in some than others — the cost is. In every exercise the U.S. uses up all its long-range air-to-surface missiles in a few days, with a substantial portion of its planes destroyed on the ground. In every exercise the U.S. is not engaged in an abstract push-button war from 30,000 feet up like the ones Americans have come to expect since the end of the Cold War, but a horrifically bloody one.

And that’s assuming the U.S.-China war doesn’t go nuclear.

“The thing we see across all the wargames is that there are major losses on all sides. And the impact of that on our society is quite devastating,” said Becca Wasser, who played the role of the Chinese leadership in the Select Committee’s wargame and is head of the gaming lab at the Center for a New American Security.

“The most common thread in these exercises is that the United States needs to take steps now in the Indo-Pacific to ensure the conflict doesn’t happen in the future.

We are hugely behind the curve. Ukraine is our wakeup call. This is our watershed moment.”

So…

Please give me a break. Stop asking for answers that you do not want to hear.

If the United States drops one bullet inside of China, and Taiwan is China, the entire USN gets sunk. And the American losses in the first two hours will be absolutely horrific.

China issued a statement and the United States is left in mixed feelings.

https://youtu.be/I_GeZj3KZPM

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The big game of chess is about to see some grand moves on the game board.

There is a lot of things going on. One of the big things is the apparent “disclosure” by the government that Aliens exist that that the United States government has been reverse engineering the vehicles for decade. Uh huh.

What is interesting is that the mainstream “news’ is ignoring this news.

Then you have this massive movement of NATO and the United States ready to take on Russia. That is NOT going to have a good result.

But…

I believe that China and Russia has already planned for this and are playing “this game of Chess” about 56 moves ahead of the USA.

Manifestations hitting hard! Good stuff.

Yes. My grandmother died, and my aunt (her daughter) and uncle had lived with her for years and took care of her. My aunt died before my grandmother, so when my grandmother died, it left only my uncle living in the house. He approached me awkwardly and asked if I would sign over the deed so he could have the house. He needed me and my sister to do this, and we both did with no reservations. He had taken care of the house, my grandmother and my aunt for years, so it was the right thing to do.

Africans Vs African Americans

Interesting.

Speaker of the House Sends Lawmakers HOME – Three Days Before NATO Exercise . . .that may start Russia War

House Speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) took the extraordinary and very unusual step of canceling votes for the rest of this week and sent lawmakers home today.   Just three days before the largest-ever NATO “exercise” simulating war with Russia . . .

The “public reason” given by Speaker McCarthy is that this was due to a “revolt” by 11 members of the House Freedom Caucus, who banded together to grind proceedings to a halt in protest of the speaker caving to Democrats during last week’s compromise to raise the debt ceiling.

The looming and not-so-public fact is that NATO’s “exercise” simulating war with Russia starts in 3+ days – and that “exercise” — may turn out to be real.

Bear in mind, this action by the Speaker takes place just about one week after members of the Senate were all given Satellite  telephones “in case a disruption to US communications occurs.”  It also takes place just a few short days after the Memorial Day weekend holiday, during which, select high-level FedGov officials secretly spent the weekend at Government Bunkers with their families.  a “practice run” for the real thing, maybe?

Or was it not “practice” at all?  How many of those officials are STILL in those Bunkers?   Is Congress now joining them?

I don’t believe the public reason given for this sending of lawmakers “home.”

Governing is always messy.  It is always disordered.  There are always disagreements and there is always upheaval.  Yet, the Speaker chose to “send lawmakers home????”   No, I don’t buy it.   I don’t buy it one bit.

Who knows, maybe they’re planning some type off False Flag attack upon Washington, DC to be blamed on Russia?

Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

Stay tuned . . .

Liquor Store Owner Shoots Armed Robber With Shotgun

https://youtu.be/WanvSbJHbWI

A delicious layered Tex-Mex casserole using three different cheeses.

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2023 06 09 11 45

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, seeded and chopped
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1 (15.5 ounce) can kidney beans, drained
  • 1 (16 ounce) can tomatoes, with juice, coarsely chopped
  • 1 (15 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 tablespoon chili powder, or to taste
  • 1 (15 ounce) carton Wisconsin ricotta cheese
  • 2 cups shredded Wisconsin Monterey Jack cheese
  • 1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles
  • 1 bunch green onions, finely chopped
  • 3 large eggs, beaten
  • 1 (8 ounce) bag tortilla chips
  • 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded Sharp Wisconsin cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in skillet over medium high heat. Sauté green bell pepper and garlic until tender.
  2. Add kidney beans. Set aside.
  3. In saucepan, combine tomatoes, tomato sauce and chili powder. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for 15 minutes.
  4. Add to kidney bean mixture. Combine ricotta and Monterey Jack cheeses, chiles, onions and eggs.
  5. Spread 1/4 of cheese mixture evenly in greased 13 x 9 x 2-inch glass baking dish.
  6. Arrange 1/4 of chips over cheese.
  7. Spread 1/4 of tomato mixture over chips. Repeat layer 3 more times.
  8. Cover with aluminum foil and bake at 325 degrees F (160 degrees C) for 30 to 40 minutes.
  9. Remove foil and top with cheddar cheese and bake 10 to 15 minutes more.
  10. Let stand for 5 minutes before serving.

Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Flying into Jackson, MS, on USAir, my airplane stopped and people began to get out of their seats. I realized, though, that the hatch had not opened, and bumpety-bumpety-bump sounds were coming from it.

The captain came up on the PA. “Folks, there are marks on the ground where different aircraft types are supposed to park, in order to have their hatch lined up with the jetway. I’ve just been told that there is an error in ours. We’re going to have to be pulled back by a tug. Before that, everyone has to be sitting and strapped in.”

Grumble grumble. People sit down. Feeling of slight movement.

Bumpety-bumpety-bump. Bump bump. Hatch still isn’t open.

At that point, a flight attendant came up on the PA. In the most syrupy and seductive of Southern Belle voices, she oozed into the microphone, “Is it in?”

Unfortunately, the captain was talking to the tower, who heard this. I was later told that operations came to a halt for several minutes, until Air Traffic Control stopped laughing.

Interesting.

COVERT INTEL – U.S. POSITIONING MISSILE LAUNCHERS ALONG CALIFORNIA COAST

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From HERE. Paywall.

WARNING ⚠️ It’s MUCH Worse than People know! | shtf prepping news

Yah.

This Barbershop Will Give Kids A Discount If They Read

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Reading is very important when it comes to a child’s development, and this barbershop in Ypsilanti, Michigan encourages kids to pick up a book. Every child who picks up a book and reads out loud will get $2 off their haircut. Barber Ryan Griffin says he was inspired when he discovered another barber shop in Harlem was doing something similar, and so far the idea is a big hit.

More info: Facebook

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17 Things You Do Way Too Rarely For Your Cat

A must watch for cat owners.

The Biggest War Battle on European Soil Since WW2 is HAPPENING right now – almost not a peep from the Main-Stream Media!

The largest war-fighting battle on European soil since WW2 is RAGING right now – today, June 8, 2023 – and not even a peep from the West’s  so-called “main stream media!”

According to battlefield sources, Ukraine’s first attack on Zaporozhye is almost repulsed.

A lot of Ukrainian soldiers are laying down DEAD in the minefields. They were simply driven forward by their commanders without properly preparing the passages. They say the picture is terrible, the enemy has a lot of DEAD or seriously wounded just lying on the battlefield.

It is likely Ukraine will regroup and drive a few more waves to the slaughter.

The Russians say “Our boys are ready and charged.”

One Russian source said, “we are not sleeping, we are waiting!”

SO FAR . . .

From June 4th to June 8th, Ukraine has lost close to 400 armored vehicles, 115 tanks and close to 5,000 personnel on the Zaporozhye, Artemovsk (i.e. Balhmut), and Southwest Donetsk Tactical Regions. The intensity of the enemy attacks have decreased, however, a whole army in the reserve is waiting to attack. This will not be the end of their attacks. So far, no settlements have been lost (some changed hands but are back under the control of the Russian Armed Forces).

Importantly, in no instance, has even the first line of Russian defense been breached, and remember, on the Zaporozhye and Southwest Donetsk fronts, there are 5 lines of defense. Ukraine is targeting areas west of the Ugledarisky Tactical Region (nearby to the Velkya Novoselivka Tactical Region); as these regions are the least defended, however, geographically hard to conquer. This is primarily around the villages of Novodonetskoye and the Vremika Ledge.

To compensate for failures, the Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) attempted a counteroffensive on the Artemovsk(i.e. Bakhmut)/ Berkhovka area; they were subsequently wiped out. Enemy militants now resort to shelling of residential areas of the Belgorod, Russia, Region.

It is likely that Ukraine will attempt to cross the Left Bank of the Kherson River under the backdrop of the New Kakhovka Hydroelectric Dam being blown up; they have strengthened groupings with fresh reserves from Lvov and Zhytomr, Russian forces are pre-emptively striking accumulations of Ukraine manpower.

The battles are raging.  Hundreds are dying.   But since the mass-media is simply not reporting what’s taking place, people of the West have no idea at all how bad things are, or that the US and NATO will likely find out they have LOST . . . this week.   Unless, of course, they create a false flag designed to get directly involved in the war, and bring on World War 3.
The general public, being clueless, will be blind-sided at the outbreak of such a war.  They will be afraid, and looking to government for safety and answers.   The same government that LIED to them for 2 1/2 years over Trump/Russia Collusion.   The same government that LIED to them about COVID-19.   The same government that LIED to them about the COVID-19 vaccines, which are still killing many of the people who took them.
The next two weeks could very well see the outbreak of nuclear world war, and a change to all our lives that will never return to “normal.”
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Let’s see what the tech giant Bill Gates say about this.

On March 2, the Financial Times published an interview with Bill Gates. The Microsoft founder strongly believes in the potential of US-China cooperation and does not think a military escalation is likely.

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main qimg 794436c11768f1563dac1c0f1c9f744e

Bill Gates claimed that the US would not be able to achieve the desired result and limit Beijing’s ambitions through procurement restrictions – which include a recent attempt to get the chip industry back under US control.

Gates does not see much sense in restricting chip sales to China, as the Asian nation will be able to catch up with the US rather quickly at this scale, and expressed his desire for Washington and Beijing to cooperate closer with each other.

Bill Gates:

Well, I don’t think the US will ever be successful at preventing China from having great chips. You know, we are going to force them to spend time and a bunch of money to make their own chips, but given 5 to 10 years and they take money out of their poverty program. The idea that we could ever sell them chips, we’re just eviscerating that.

You know, we’re saying make your own jet engines, your own software, your own chips. And I think that’s a shame and I don’t get the logic. Given that they’re at scale to catch up fairly quickly and I don’t see how that’s some gigantic benefit.

So you know, I wish the US and China could get along better. We seem to be on a deteriorating trend which when we have things like health, innovation, climate innovation that are win-win things between all countries, but the most important relationship in the world is the US-China relationship. I’m disappointed and worried about how that relationship has evolved over the last couple of years.

Regarding a possible military conflict between China and the US within the next decade, Gates argues that restricting Chinese chip sales and manufacturing would only warn Beijing about the intention for military escalation and thus further damage bilateral relations and provide China with advance warning of a future threat. The billionaire personally does not believe in a military conflict between the two countries.

Why Southeast Asia Chose China (You Won’t Believe What USA Did)

What else is new…

Zaporozhye Nuclear Power Plant Cooling Water RECEDING after Dam Blown Up

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The Zaporozhye Nuclear Power Plant (ZNPP) sits at the edge of the giant reservoir kept full by the Novo Khakovka Dam. When that Dam was blown up three days ago, water levels in the Reservoir began to plummet. This is causing water in the cooling pond that feeds water to the ZNPP to plummet as well.

Without sufficient cooling water, the nuclear reactors at the ZNPP will not be cooled, resulting in a nuclear disaster.

This is like a ticking time bomb. No one knows how long water levels will remain high enough to provide cooling water to the reactors. Disaster could be just DAYS away.

Well…actually the US can do nothing to stop China’s development. What can the US do now is to find the right way to get along with China.

Just wanna share Noam Chomsky’s view: When asked whether he believes that China will become a world leader, Chomsky said, “It already is.”

According to prominent US academic and philosopher Noam Chomsky, China has already become a world leader and its entering the Middle East arms market shows the erosion of the system in the region that has been run by the United States for 80 years.

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main qimg 37ff22746e1922cddeab84ceadaf65d7

Chomsky explained that the programs based on the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) extend throughout Eurasia and considerably beyond.

“In the past few months, Saudi Arabia joined the SCO, followed by the second regional heavyweight, the United Arab Emirates, which had already become a hub of China's Maritime Silk Road, reaching from Kolkata in Eastern India to the Red Sea and on to Europe."

Renowned US investor Jim Rogers also told Sputnik earlier in May that China will become the next great country and most important nation of this century.

This isn’t right, Somethings Changed.

Indeed.

An Adorable Line of Miniature ‘Bread Cat’ Shaped Resin Toys That Look Good Enough to Eat

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Korean designer Rato Kim has created a really adorable line of catloaf toys that range from the very realistic to the surreal. The toys are crafted from resin and can be easily mixed and matched with other equally adorable toys of Kim’s design.

h/t: laughingsquid

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Mennonite Meat Balls (Fleischbolle)

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2023 06 09 14 47

Ingredients

  • 3/4 pound ground pork
  • 3/4 pound ground beef
  • 1 onion, chopped finely
  • Salt and pepper
  • 3/4 cup rice, soaked in water
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 cup breadcrumbs
  • 1 cup ketchup or tomato sauce

Instructions

  1. Mix all but the ketchup and form into balls; brown balls in a pan, put into an oven dish and cover with blended ketchup and 1 quart of boiling water. Let simmer in oven for 3 to 4 hours, making sure the balls haven’t gone dry.

ALIEN BODIES! Video evidence of U.S. held UFO handed over to journalists | Redacted w Clayton Morris

Hum.

Tex-Mex Capirotada

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2023 06 09 11 47

Ingredients

Pudding

  • 12 slices stale bread, preferably French or whole wheat
  • 8 to 10 ounces grated Monterey jack or cubed cream cheese
  • 3/4 cup pitted prunes, plumped in hot water and diced
  • 3/4 cup seedless white raisins or dates, diced
  • 2 large bananas, sliced, or coarsely chopped apples
  • 1 cup sliced almonds

Syrup

  • 2 cups water
  • 1 1/2 cups brown sugar, packed
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Egg Mixture and Topping

  • 2 cups water
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 4 eggs, separated
  • 4 tablespoons flour

Meringue

  • Reserved egg whites
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

Presentation

  • Sweetened whipped cream or ice cream

Instructions

  1. Toast the bread and allow to cool.
  2. Using a well-buttered baking dish, 12 x 9 x 2 inches, make a layer of bread, using about half the bread. Top with half the cheese and fruits and all the bananas or apples.
  3. Add another bread layer, then the remaining cheese, fruits, and the nuts. Set aside.
  4. In a medium-size saucepan, boil the water, sugar, and cinnamon together for 5 minutes.
  5. Pour syrup over the pudding mixture.
  6. Remove 1 cup and beat with egg yolks and flour, then add this egg mixture to the remaining syrup and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, for 5 minutes or until thick. Pour custard over the bread and fruits.
  7. Cover and let stand several hours at room temperature, or refrigerate overnight.
  8. When ready to bake the pudding, beat the egg whites until very stiff, beating in the sugar at the last. Spread atop the pudding and then bake at 350 degrees F for about 40 minutes, or until the meringue is well browned and the pudding is set.
  9. Serve small portions with a dollop of ice cream or whipped cream.

Yield: 12 to 14 servings

Storage, Freezing, and Advance Preparation

The basic dessert, excluding the topping, may be prepared 24 hours in advance or overnight. Because of the sweet syrups, the bananas will not turn brown any faster than they would during ordinary baking. The topping should be added just prior to baking. The pudding may be served either hot or cold; it will reheat easily without changing consistency, either in a microwave oven or in a hot 400 degrees F oven, covered with foil.

Psychologist EXPLAINS Why Not EVERYBODY IS ATTRACTIVE

Hey you!

Four Days Until NATO “Exercise” Begins . . . and Maybe Direct War with Russia

SCENARIO: “Airspace over Eastern Europe is contested. Article 5 of NATO Treaty was activated. Within hours, hundreds of fighter jets from the US/NATO transfer to Germany to fly against Russia. Nuclear-capable F-35 stealth aircraft are prepped for deployment – the first hours of a major war have dawned.”

This scenario is the basis for the upcoming NATO “Air Defender 23″ exercise …”

which takes place from the 12th to the 24th of June.

The air war is simulated against an imaginary enemy who himself has a potent air force. The real meaning of this exercise is clear to anyone with a brain: Russia.

The maneuvering may still be cautious in their public communication, but Michael A. Loh, general of the US Air National Guard, expressed his motivation some time ago. In 2021, with a view to „ Air Defender “, he wished that his people „ think more about our impending dangers – China and Russia “.

The maneuver is carried out according to the principle „ Train as you fight “. Areas of application, tactics, logistics – everything should be as realistic as possible. It is therefore no coincidence that Germany becomes the central hub of the exercise. In an emergency, too, countless NATO jets would start and swarm out of German airfields. The flight routes that the fighter planes will test are just as realistic. They lead to the eastern borders of the NATO area, to the Russian and Ukrainian borders.

At first glance, what looks like a brazen but usual provocation is a tangible danger to world peace in times of war. An accident with Russian military aircraft, misguided navigation or a pilot error may be sufficient to make a training flight appear like an attack. It becomes particularly threatening if Ukraine uses the NATO exercise’s slipstream to carry out attacks, while Russian air surveillance is forced to pursue NATO activities. Russian territory is currently being bombarded almost every day, and the Ukrainian president is threatened with major attacks. The escalation potential of a Ukrainian military strike while NATO jets are patrolling nearby is obvious in this situation.

The federal government is not only willing to accept these enormous risks, it even suspends the usual security measures. Russian observers who could ensure that the exercise is not used to prepare for an attack are not invited. There shouldn’t even be a formal announcement.  “We will not write them a letter. They will understand the news when our planes swarm out “, the highest German air force general Ingo Gerhartz replied at the beginning of April to the question of how Russia is informed.

This move away from an insurance policy is accompanied by a fight against diplomacy. Last week the Federal Republic of the Russian Federation banned the operation of four consulates. They must be closed by the end of the year.

So, shortly before the NATO exercise, the relationships are further burdened and important communication channels are sabotaged. The federal government appears to be doing everything it can to drive an escalation and increase the risk that the exercise could become a bitter reality.

NATO and its ilk have to decide very quickly. Obviously, the Ukraine offensive has stalled. It is indeed a question if Ukraine army is even capable of holding their positions or not. And the Russian army is making small but constant advances. It is probable that Ukraine army and state is on the verge of collapse. Because of that, it is time to make a decision. Either NATO enters officially into conflict or Ukraine is lost.

Of course, best moment to attack Russian army would be when all NATO equipment and personal are in Europe and are practicing that type of scenario. We only need a fabricated reason for war. Something like 9/11 at the WTC.

History shows the US federal government is perfectly willing to engage in treachery to cause the US to be involved in a major war.

In World War 2, the Roosevelt Administration KNEW the Japanese were coming to attack Pearl Harbor.   They knew days in advance.   While they told the US Military “you may be attacked” there was no ironclad statement that an attack WAS already on its way.   The Japanese attack on December 7, 1941 caused the date to live in infamy.  The American military was used as canon fodder to get hit and killed, bringing the US into the war.

The Gulf of Tonkin incident was an actual fabrication by the US to get us into the Vietnam War.

Former Secretary of State, Colin Powell, sat at a UN Security Council meeting, held up a glass jar containing ANTHRAX, and told Security Council members that Saddam Hussein of Iraq had “tons” of this bio-weapon and could destroy half the world.   In to Iraq we went.  We destroyed much of Iraq, searched high and low, but guess what?  No weapons of mass destruction!   It was all lies.

In 2014, the US, EU fomented, incited, and facilitated the forcible overthrow of Ukraine’s President, Vikto Yanukovich, then funded a puppet government favorable tot he West.   The US/EU want to place American missiles on Ukraine soil, with a five minute or so flight time to Moscow.   Russia said “no.” The West said “Too fucking bad.”

In December 2021, Russia tried to negotiate ironclad, legally enforceable security guarantees.  The West laughed and basically threw Russia’s Diplomatic proposals in the trash can.

The Russians tried again, only this time warning that if Russia could not obtain ironclad, legally enforceable, security guarantees, via DIPLOMATIC means, they would attain them via military, or military-technical means.   The West again quashed the Russian proposals.

On February 24, 2022, after giving Ukraine a five hour ultimatum that went unanswered, the Russian Army went into Ukraine.   The West was mortified.  It was never within the realm of possibility to them, that Russia would actually DO what Russia said they would do!

Here we are, over a year later, the war rages, hundreds of thousands are dead, and now NATO is (coincidentally) preparing its largest air defense exercise in history . . . right next to the Russia-Ukraine major conflict . . . where any misstep can open up the hellscape of World War 3.

Given the US track record of lying to get us into actual wars, is it any stretch of the imagination to believe that NATO and the US will do so again, four or so days from now?

Let me ask you:   If, one day soon, you’re up in the morning doing what you usually do, and suddenly, the Emergency Broadcast System tones start coming out of your cellphone, or your nearby radio, or on your TV, and the announcement tells you “The United States is under nuclear attack from Russia, take shelter immediately.”  what’s the first thing you would do?

For most people, they have no friggin idea . . . . at all.   Do you call your spouse?   Do you make a mad dash to get the kids from school?  (You and everybody else . . . and find an instant “Mad Max” scenario on the roads.)

Do you have __any__ emergency food, water, medicine for after the bombs hit and the country is collapsing?

Do you actually think you’ll be able to go to the supermarket and buy food?   Upon a nuke blast, do you think your credit/debit cards will actually work so you can buy food?   Nope!

Better start thinking about these things, because the way things are going, four days from now could see your whole world change.

Waiting to Be Put to Sleep, She Sat Crying Silently in Her Cage At the Shelter

The USA is ready and would win a war against China, says American Admiral.

My daughter caught a fever, and then passed it on to me. The last week has been a struggle. Tired, achy, spitting out green flem, and sneezing has been terribly uncomfortable. Hopefully I’m at the tail end of this nightmare. But it’s been a real slog to get anything out. Sorry.

The USN Admiral of the Pacific was asked by Joe Biden if the USN was ready to counter China….just in case. He responded that they are ready and would win a war against China.

WTF?

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2023 06 08 14 35

The guy is either delirious, or seriously demented.

Sorry about last post about #passportbros. The entire things is so disheartening. I see the pain of the African American women, and I feel the pain of the African American men. I just want everyone to find their love, and build up a family.

Is that too hard?

Couple that with the Woke Movement banning and suppressing all videos, posts and writings about that content. WTF? Makes it really difficult to communicate when others want you to shut the fuck up.

I really need to put out a Paetron video, but this last fever has set me back. Ugh!

My affirmations are manifesting strong and hard. Things are definitely falling into place. Slow hard grind, but actually happening.

A commenter asked about why I “felt the need” to send someone to the Cornfield. I did it, because I have an ego, and I no longer “turn the cheek”. If you wrong me, I hit back hard.

Now, take care, and have a great day!

Japan has officially announced that it will tighten controls on exports of 23 types of semiconductor equipment to China starting July 23. How the new trade curbs will impact Chinese semiconductor industry is drawing increasing concerns from market and industry observers.

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main qimg 09bc3a4d13fd3dd3afef360cafc3ce9f

Japan will strictly restrict shipments of four types of exposure machines, three kinds of etching equipment, 11 film-forming machines, three cleaning equipment items, one thermal treatment system, and one front-end test solution, all needed to produce 14nm chips and more advanced ones.

Chinese Commerce Minister Wang Wentao urged Japan to halt semiconductor export controls, calling it a “wrongdoing” that “seriously violated” international economic and trade rules. He issued the call during talks with Japanese Trade Minister Yasutoshi Nishimura on May 26 at the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) conference in Detroit, three days following Japan’s announcement.

How large the impact of Japan’s trade curbs will be on China’s semiconductor industry?

The South China Morning Post also quoted a semiconductor analyst at Counterpoint Research as saying that Japan’s increasing cooperation with the US in tightening exports of advanced semiconductor equipment and technologies to China will heap large pressure on Chinese semiconductor players, given that Japan was China’s largest supplier of semiconductor equipment in 2022 as indicated in the United Nations merchandize trade statistics.

The analyst said that China is now capable of producing 14nm chips, yet in a small volume, and that Japan joining hands with the US to contain China will make it difficult for Chinese foundry houses to increase output of sub-20 nm chips.

Japan’s Diamond Weekly reported that five Chinese semiconductor firms will bear the brunt of impacts from the Japanese trade curbs, namely SMIC, Hua Hong Semiconductor, Huali Microelectronics, Yangtze Memory Technologies (YMTC) and ChangXin Memory Technologies (CXMT).

Meanwhile, as Chinese semiconductor companies are shifting production focus to non-advanced chips, they have placed increased orders with Japanese suppliers for equipment needed for producing semiconductor power devices, analog chips and other lower-end chips.

Tokyo Electron, for instance, saw its sales in the China market grow 11% on year to JPY131.3 billion (US$937.05 million) in the first quarter of 2023, and its president Toshiki Kawai has estimated the company’s shipments to China in fiscal 2023 (April 2023 to March 2024) will contribute over 30% of its annual revenues, up from 23% of a year earlier.

Please note that both China and Japan are the signatory members of RCEP – a free trade bloc.

China will knock the WTO door, but to what effect. It takes 2–3 years for hearing and verdict, but there is also a big hurdle as the US is not appointing appellate judges, hence nothing will come off it. For roughly two years, the US has blocked the appointment of new judges to the WTO’s Appellate Body.

US voting numbers are significant everywhere, as in WTO, IMF and WB. This way it is able to bully and hold these organizations to ransom.

INTERVIEW: All I know is that Gonzalo was detained on May 1

An Opinion by 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝗗𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗘𝘁𝗹𝗲𝗿
𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘢, 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘺

As I See It:

Why is it that the West is so preoccupied with China? The usual answer is that China’s economic growth is challenging Western global hegemony which has held sway for at least 250 years. The Chinese military has also reached parity with that of the West, so it is no longer subject to Western intimidation and bullying. All that is true and reason for the West to want to savage China and portray it as the root of all evil.

But there is one other consideration that must be considered. It’s not only China’s economic prowess and military might that frightens the West, but also success as a nation versus the West’s failure.

Moreover, China has forged a society in which there is harmony between its different ethnicities in contrast to the systemic racism that characterizes Western society.

Western ruling elites and their media mouthpieces do not want to acknowledge the fact that China has eliminated extreme poverty while more and more of their own people descend into poverty. They do not want to admit that China has constructed a 21st century infrastructure while they lag far behind. They do not want to confront the fact that the Chinese people overwhelmingly support their government while people in the West have lost confidence in their own, they do not want to accept that China beat COVID-19 while they haven’t, and finally they are loathe to accept the fact that a non-white nation has outperformed them and will continue to do so into the foreseeable future.

In order to deflect attention away from these truths the West has concocted a series of lies and slanders that allow them to deny reality. Instead of poverty alleviation the West imagines “genocide.” Instead of the advances in HSR, EVs, alt-energy and e-commerce they focus on “IP theft,” instead of a socioeconomic system that serves the people, they accuse China of forced labour and forced sterilizations. Instead of seeing China as defending its national sovereignty in the South China Sea, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, it’s called an aggressor.

All the China-bashing serves multiple purposes but ONE of the main reasons is to make sure that people in the West do not get to hear nor see what the real China is all about because if they did they may get ideas that the Western elites don’t want then to have, such as socialism works for the betterment of the 99% while capitalism works primarily to enrich the 1%.

What Happened to the First Human Head Transplant?

This is interesting.

10 Ways Life Really Sucked in the Middle Ages

The Middle Ages lasted a long time… and probably felt even longer. Historians generally recognize the period as beginning with the fall of Rome at the end of the 5th century AD. Then, it lasted all the way through the middle of the 15th century—give or take a few decades. As you might imagine, quite a few things changed during this long cultural epoch. But there was at least one constant then, too: life really, really sucked.

There were only a few hundred million people on the entire globe—with less than 25 million in Europe–when the Middle Ages started, and those poor souls had it rough. Medicine was essentially nonexistent, and disease was rampant. Life was short, violent, uncertain, and occasionally brutal. Work was hard, the hours were long, and the physical toll was demanding. Civilization was sputtering along, and if you weren’t rich royalty, you got the proverbial (and sometimes literal) short end of the stick.

So let’s head back in time and take a long look at why life in the Middle Ages was so terrible. There will be famine, pestilence, and disease. There will be violence, starvation, political strife, and community turmoil. And there won’t be much hope! Here are ten reasons why it was really, really bad to be an Average Joe during the Middle Ages.

10 Pestilence and Plague

Back in 1347, the bubonic plague—which soon became known as the Black Death—arrived in Europe. It caused immense devastation almost immediately. Over the next decade, it took the lives of millions of people. Historians now estimate that around twenty million were felled by the disease. And there weren’t nearly as many people in Europe then to begin with as there are now. In just a few years, almost half of Europe’s population perished.

The Black Death was a merciless killer. People would go to sleep healthy at night, wake up deathly ill in the morning, and die in an agonizing way over the next several days. It didn’t discriminate between the rich and the poor, and it was ruthless. In fact, scientists now estimate that only about 10% of those who contracted the disease managed to survive. Families were devastated, and entire towns were nearly wiped off the map.

It changed the structure of European society in a way that is difficult to understand today. While the Middle Ages were already tough on regular people, all that death made things even more difficult. Children were orphaned, and families were fractured. Already nearly nonexistent social and community outlets were completely shuttered.

People were on their own even more than they’d been for centuries before that. And they attributed the plague’s wrath to a vengeful God hell-bent on punishing the world for its sins. It may have been difficult for the modern world to battle the COVID pandemic, but it was nothing compared to the plague. In just a few years, in the late 1340s, European society completely regressed.[1]

9 Live Terribly, Die Fast

As you’ve come to see by now, life was tough in the Middle Ages. Even if you managed to stay away from hunger and the awful Black Death, there were still many ways to meet a gruesome end. Diseases like tuberculosis, leprosy, and cholera were everywhere. Basic cleanliness was hard to find. Nobody knew anything about hygiene. And in cities like London, there was no sewer system to speak of. Instead of disposing of excrement and human waste in a sensible way, they simply threw it onto the streets. Gross, right? Not only did it stink horribly, but it also created a terrible breeding ground for deadly diseases.

Knowledge about medicine was remarkably primitive, too. People in those times believed bad smells directly caused diseases. This idea was called the Miasma Theory, and it became quite popular across Europe. Of course, it wasn’t true, but it did make people realize the importance of being clean and taking baths. That, in turn, helped improve health conditions a little bit. Of course, the improvement was not felt by all classes. Rich people had the means and opportunity to stay clean and smell relatively fresh if they wanted. But for the serfs, who usually lived in cramped spaces with multiple families and even livestock, it was much harder.

Surviving childhood was a challenge back then too. Only about a third of all kids born in that era reached adulthood. Giving birth was also extremely dangerous, as you might expect. Mothers, babies, or both often didn’t make it out of childbirth alive. Across society at that time, the average life expectancy was only around 35 years. Men usually lived a little longer than women—and the rich, of course, often lived much longer than the poor. Still, it’s pretty shocking that giving birth was more risky than going into battle during medieval times. Life was very, very hard back then![2]

8 The Relentless Waging of War

During the Middle Ages, there was a great deal of fighting happening pretty much all the time. Some wars were short and violent, while others, like the 100 Years’ War, lasted way longer than expected. Because militaries lacked modern weapons, it often took decades for wars to finally and definitively end. Thus, everyone who was able to fight had to constantly be ready for battle. The nobles, especially, spent most of their lives training for war. Whenever a war broke out, it was their duty to show off their skills. If they didn’t want to fight, they had to pay the king a large amount of money to avoid battle.

Of course, the vast majority of people in the Middle Ages didn’t have enough money to buy their way out of the conflict. So they could be forced to join the army through conscription. If you owned any land, you could be summoned to provide soldiers for the war effort. The more land you had, the more soldiers were expected from you. The poor peasants, who had little or no military training, were usually the ones sent into battle by these powerful landowners. They were led by a knight or two who tried their best to bring some order to the chaos.

Some leaders recognized that having a well-trained and organized peasant army could be helpful in a fight. However, the rulers were also afraid that if these peasants became too skilled, they might rebel and try to overthrow them. This back-and-forth was the central tension around military might throughout the difficult Middle Ages.[3]

7 The Cruelty of Crime

During the Middle Ages, violent criminals and thieves faced severe consequences if caught. And there were numerous petty problems that received cruel and unusual punishments too. Being a vagrant or getting caught begging was against the law in most European locales. Peasants were forbidden to marry without their lord’s permission. And in some places, women could even be punished for gossiping too much! Surprisingly, even playing football became illegal in England in 1314. Thankfully for our British friends, that didn’t last long.

In the early part of the Middle Ages, determining guilt or innocence involved a brutal practice called trial by ordeal. For example, if a woman was suspected of witchcraft, she might be tied up and thrown into a pool of water. If she survived, people would believe she was innocent. If she died, they assumed she was guilty. Considering she had already been tied up before being thrown in, well, you can guess how many “guilty” witches there were.

As time passed, trial by jury started to replace trial by ordeal from the 1300s onward. However, punishments during this era were still incredibly harsh compared to today’s standards. Public executions were common, as were floggings and beatings. Corporal punishment and forced labor were routinely levied against criminals and evildoers as well. Even petty crimes like thievery and pickpocketing were given harsh retribution.

One of the most dreadful crimes one could commit was high treason. Betraying one’s king was such a heinous act that it resulted in an unimaginably cruel punishment. The condemned person would be tied to a wooden panel and dragged toward execution. They would be hanged, but they would be cut down just before death. Yet there was no mercy in this act. While fully conscious, the person would be disemboweled, and their entrails would be burned before their eyes. Finally, an ax would be swung to sever their head from their body. Then, in what served as a brutal warning to others, their head would be displayed for all to see.[4]

6 Brutal Feudal Life

Life in the Middle Ages was divided into different classes. As has been the case in most eras, those at the top had a pretty good life. They were the ones with power, money, and high status. In most Middle Ages communities, the king technically owned all the land in an area. He would lease it out to noble barons in exchange for an oath of their loyalty. Then, these nobles had the freedom to govern their land and impose taxes as they pleased. As you might expect, they could be brutal.

This privilege for the few landed barons came at a great cost to the serfs. This was the poor mass of people who had no land and no rights. They were essentially treated as slaves by the local nobles. Serfs toiled on the land and brutally worked six days a week from dawn until dusk. Per the feudal system, they were forced to produce crops, raise livestock, and offer some other value to pay their liege lord for the use of the land. And the grind never ended.

In ancient times, it was rare but possible for slaves to rise to powerful positions. Some former slaves became incredibly wealthy and led armies. In one notable instance, the son of a freed slave even became the Emperor of Rome. Sadly for the serfs in the medieval world, such social mobility was unimaginable.

If you were born into the lower class, it was extremely likely you would remain there for your entire life. There was no social mobility or opportunity to work through one’s birth position. Instead, the poor, unwashed masses simply kept working hard and toiling away with no chance of ever improving their lives.[5]

5 Medicine? What Medicine?

Around 540 BC, a Greek doctor named Alcmaeon of Croton introduced a concept that gained popularity in his time. He believed human health depended on the balance of four fluids, known as humors. These humors were blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. Alcmaeon’s theory was wrong, of course, but it managed to stick around for a thousand years.

By the Middle Ages, medicine hadn’t progressed beyond this point. In some ways, sadly, it had even regressed. Unlike the ancient Greeks—who acknowledged physical causes for illnesses—people in medieval times attributed supernatural reasons to their ailments.

It was quite common for medical examinations to begin with an analysis of the patient’s astrological chart. In many cases, the diagnosis would be an imbalance of the humors. The prescribed treatment involved either bloodletting through cuts or the application of leeches. There were no antibiotics or other medicines, of course. The primitive nature of pain management and symptom care at the time was brutal and unforgiving.

Those who required surgery faced even greater risks. Limited knowledge of the human body’s internal workings hindered progress. Out of fear of superstition and disease, dissecting corpses was prohibited. Moreover, physicians deemed surgery as beneath their profession. That left the task to even less-trained barber surgeons. These individuals were often illiterate and lacked formal scientific know-how. Their only qualification was generally their labor as barbers. Theoretically, then, they knew their way around scissors and (potentially) a scalpel.

The sole available anesthetics were alcohol or certain herbs like mandrake. Shockingly, many surgeons didn’t even employ these methods. They mistakenly believed pain actually aided the healing process. Then, those unlikely few who survived surgery were at substantial risk of infection and subsequent death during the following days and weeks. Sadly, there was no winning in medieval medicine.[6]

Let’s see the European Union and their members continue to expose themselves as the Anglo-Naxi backed fascist experiments that they are by ignoring their own people

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2023 06 08 18 35

4 Work? What Work?

During medieval times, most people lived and worked on farms. Historians now estimate that about 80% of the population tended to the land. However, as towns and cities grew, new job opportunities arose. Sadly, many of these occupations were poorly paid, required a ton of time and effort, and were extremely unpleasant.

One unusual job that became popular was that of a leech collector. The medical profession had a constant need for leeches at the time. So this created an opportunity for people to make a living by gathering the bloodsucking creatures. Catching leeches was not an arduous task, but it was gross. Collectors would simply enter a suitable body of water and wait for the leeches to attach themselves to their bodies.

Another job that offered slightly more income was that of a fuller. Fullers were more common than leech collectors, and they could earn three times as much as a peasant working in the fields. However, being a fuller was far from ideal. Their responsibility was to remove oil, dirt, and other impurities from newly woven cloth. The most effective method they used was stomping on the cloth with their feet inside a barrel filled with human urine. This process would go on for hours and hours, dawn until dusk, six days per week.

As the importance of cities grew through the end of the Middle Ages, more jobs away from the farm took on various levels of significance. Through it all, though, labor protections were nonexistent, and wages were mostly terrible. People had to make the best of the opportunities presented to them, even if they weren’t exactly what they had dreamed of. There simply wasn’t anything better on hand![7]

3 One-Way Worship

During medieval times, the Catholic Church held immense power and influence across Europe. It had great wealth and authority too. For one, it was exempt from taxes. And yet it compelled peasants to pay a tithe of 10% of their earnings to the church. Additionally, peasants were obliged to dedicate their time and labor to the church’s lands without compensation.

The vast resources and political strength of the church allowed it to permeate nearly every aspect of medieval society. Because they had such soft power, worship was essentially forced. After all, who would mount a fight against an organization with that much of an ability to ruin your life?

As the leader of the church and the earthly representative of God, the pope held a level of power that rivaled, and often surpassed, most of Europe’s monarchs. Although popes did not directly command armies, their influence was so significant that they could call for crusades. Those violent wars were fought again and again versus Muslim soldiers across the Holy Lands. Of course, the numerous Crusades have become notorious in history for their extreme bloodshed. Centuries of fierce fighting caused the brutal loss of millions of lives.

In medieval Europe, the Islamic and Christian worlds were largely distinct. The majority of European people were devout Roman Catholics—or at least they claimed to be. However, there were small populations of pagans, Jews, and individuals following other teachings. They just couldn’t be too open about their faith.

These religious minorities faced the constant threat of persecution and death due to their unpopular belief systems. Because of the sheer dominance of the Catholic Church, diversity in religious practices existed at great risk to those who dared to differ. Worship was very power-driven from the top down in the Middle Ages, and if you went against it, you literally risked your life.[8]

2 Woes for Women

Life during the Middle Ages was challenging and unjust in many ways. Sadly, this was particularly true for girls and women. For centuries, they found themselves stuck in a society dominated by men. In those days, women had very limited rights. Until they got married, they were essentially the possessions of their fathers. Once they married, their ownership would transfer to their husbands.

If a woman was attacked, harmed, or killed, the focus would often be on her husband as the unfortunate victim. That was because the husband was seen as the one who suffered the loss or damage to his wife as property. Pregnancy and childbirth were awful too. Women routinely died while giving birth to babies. Without anything close to proper medical knowledge, pregnant women and mothers were at the mercy of fate in an uncaring and cruel world.

Through it all, women were primarily viewed as child bearers and raisers. However, female peasants were still expected to toil in the fields. Sadly, they received much lower pay than men, even though they performed the same labor. Then, after work, they were still expected to do domestic duties and care for children.

Despite these obstacles, a small number of women managed to defy expectations and attain positions of power and influence. In certain instances in England, women were granted special licenses that permitted them to operate their own businesses. They could also inherit wealth under specific circumstances. But those women were the very rare privileged few. For the vast majority of women during the Middle Ages, life was a joyless slog.[9]

1 It Was a Cold, Cold Time to Be Alive

The history of human civilization spans about 6,000 years. Across this journey, humans have been fortunate to experience relatively stable and pleasant temperatures. But not every decade has had it equally easy. Around 1300, a significant drop in the global average temperature occurred. For several centuries, it caused a temperature decline of approximately 2-3 degrees Fahrenheit (1.5 degrees Celsius). That may not seem like a lot, but it lasted a long time. And it was worse in some places (like Europe) than in others. Across northern Europe, cold languished for generations.

This prolonged cooling period was so significant that weather historians now know it as the Little Ice Age. As you might expect, its impact on Medieval Europe and other nearby regions was devastating. Frozen rivers and harbors persisted for months, crops failed, and tens of thousands of people perished due to famine and mass starvation. As if all these other things about living in the Middle Ages weren’t bad enough, the cold was the proverbial icing on a really crappy cake.

Scientists now know the Little Ice Age came from a combination of volcanic eruptions and solar activity. But during the Middle Ages, superstition prevailed. People held what we now consider to be primitive beliefs about the cause of natural phenomena. Some of them attributed these cold weather events to a vengeful God. Others claimed it was the machinations of magic and evil witches. The drastic temperature decline exacerbated religious persecution during the era. In turn, it greatly contributed to the prevalence of witch burnings and mass violence.[10]

Man Has Weird Round Spots On Finger When The Doctors See It They Call The Cops

This is also interesting, and freaky!

https://youtu.be/FgeBLbiPF9k

Tex-Mex Chili Dip

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Ingredients

  • 1 pound lean ground pork or beef
  • 1 (16 ounce) jar chunky salsa (2 cups, mild, medium or hot, depending upon preference)
  • 1 cup water, divided
  • 1 (1.61 ounce) package brown gravy mix (no fat or regular)
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 (15 ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons finely chopped jalapeno pepper (optional)
  • Tortilla chips or crackers

Instructions

  1. In 2-quart saucepan or large skillet; cook and stir ground pork until meat is no longer pink, then drain.
  2. Add salsa and 1/2 cup water and heat to boiling.
  3. Meanwhile, in small bowl, blend gravy mix with 1/2 cup cool water; stir in cumin.
  4. Pour gravy mixture into boiling mixture. Heat and stir until thickened.
  5. Stir in beans and jalapeno, reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes.
  6. Transfer hot dip to heated server.
  7. Garnish with fresh cilantro leaves, if desired.
  8. Serve with tortilla chips.

Makes 10 to 12 servings.

Chili Dip Quesadillas: Spread dip on flour tortillas; sprinkle with shredded cheese. Place another flour tortilla over each. Cook on hot griddle for 2 to 3 minutes per side. Cut into quarters.

DAVY KNOWLES w/ Jeff Massey & Eric Saylors (Steepwater), march 2017

What western media will never cover.

30 officials from 16 Arab nations have visited Urumqi and Kashgar, Xinjiang Autonomous Region in a tour to witness social harmony, economic prosperity, the fact that muslims have full rights to practice their faiths from May 30th to June 2nd, the Arab League was accompanied by XAR party secretary Ma Xin Rui, XAR chairman Erkin Tuniyaz whom the west smeared for “defending genocide” last year and Diplomatic Ambassador Li Chen.

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Hi, Rory Coates. Thanks for the very interesting question!

I don’t think Chinese need to be careful around other Asians at all.

Just before the New Year, I took a 2-week trip to South Korea to visit an old Korean friend, whom I’ve known for more than a handful of years now.

Here is a picture we took of the first sunrise in 2023, as seen on the southern coast, in Yeosu city.

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This is a regular and hearty meal we had at Yeosu, with fish as the main dish of the meal.

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And this is Yeosu’s famous soysauce crab dish.

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I greatly enjoyed the time I spent with my friend during my 2-week trip to South Korea. We had a fantastic time just catching up and eating some really, really delicious meals.

Being “careful” around other Asians because I am Chinese was the very, very last thing on my mind!

It was a really wonderful time catching up with a dear friend and enjoying the local scenery and food. Did my soul a world of good it did!

Well, it started with #passportbros, now we have #tradwifes.

https://youtu.be/mXM2rJ6G6gE

Heartwarming story

– especially for Simon and Garfunkel lovers like me . . . . .

“Hello darkness, my old friend…” Everybody knows the iconic Simon & Garfunkel song, but do you know the amazing story behind the first line of The Sounds of Silence?

It began 62 years ago, when Arthur “Art” Garfunkel, a Jewish kid from Queens, enrolled in Columbia University. During freshman orientation, Art met a student from Buffalo named Sandy Greenberg, and they immediately bonded over their shared passion for literature and music. Art and Sandy became roommates and best friends. With the idealism of youth, they promised to be there for each other no matter what.

Soon after starting college, Sandy was struck by tragedy. His vision became blurry and although doctors diagnosed it as temporary conjunctivitis, the problem grew worse. Finally after seeing a specialist, Sandy received the devastating news that severe glaucoma was destroying his optic nerves. The young man with such a bright future would soon be completely blind.

Sandy was devastated and fell into a deep depression. He gave up his dream of becoming a lawyer and moved back to Buffalo, where he worried about being a burden to his financially-struggling family. Consumed with shame and fear, Sandy cut off contact with his old friends, refusing to answer letters or return phone calls.

Then suddenly, to Sandy’s shock, his buddy Art showed up at the front door. He was not going to allow his best friend to give up on life, so he bought a ticket and flew up to Buffalo unannounced. Art convinced Sandy to give college another go, and promised that he would be right by his side to make sure he didn’t fall – literally or figuratively.

Art kept his promise, faithfully escorting Sandy around campus and effectively serving as his eyes. It was important to Art that even though Sandy had been plunged into a world of darkness, he should never feel alone. Art actually started calling himself “Darkness” to demonstrate his empathy with his friend. He’d say things like, “Darkness is going to read to you now.” Art organized his life around helping Sandy.

One day, Art was guiding Sandy through crowded Grand Central Station when he suddenly said he had to go and left his friend alone and petrified. Sandy stumbled, bumped into people, and fell, cutting a gash in his shin. After a couple of hellish hours, Sandy finally got on the right subway train. After exiting the station at 116th street, Sandy bumped into someone who quickly apologized – and Sandy immediately recognized Art’s voice! Turned out his trusty friend had followed him the whole way home, making sure he was safe and giving him the priceless gift of independence. Sandy later said, “That moment was the spark that caused me to live a completely different life, without fear, without doubt. For that I am tremendously grateful to my friend.”

Sandy graduated from Columbia and then earned graduate degrees at Harvard and Oxford. He married his high school sweetheart and became an extremely successful entrepreneur and philanthropist.

While at Oxford, Sandy got a call from Art. This time Art was the one who needed help. He’d formed a folk rock duo with his high school pal Paul Simon, and they desperately needed $400 to record their first album. Sandy and his wife Sue had literally $404 in their bank account, but without hesitation Sandy gave his old friend what he needed.

Art and Paul’s first album was not a success, but one of the songs, The Sounds of Silence, became a #1 hit a year later. The opening line echoed the way Sandy always greeted Art. Simon & Garfunkel went on to become one of the most beloved musical acts in history.

The two Columbia graduates, each of whom has added so much to the world in his own way, are still best friends. Art Garfunkel said that when he became friends with Sandy, “my real life emerged. I became a better guy in my own eyes, and began to see who I was – somebody who gives to a friend.” Sandy describes himself as “the luckiest man in the world.”

Adapted from Sandy Greenberg’s memoir: “Hello Darkness, My Old Friend: How Daring Dreams and Unyielding Friendship Turned One Man’s Blindness into an Extraordinary Vision for Life."

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Tex-Mex Chicken and Rice Chili

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tex mex chicken and rice 1 13 768×960

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

Chili

  • 1 box Rice-a-Roni Spanish Rice
  • 2 3/4 cups water
  • 2 cups chopped cooked chicken or turkey
  • 1 (15 or 16 ounce) can kidney beans or pinto beans, rinsed and drained
  • 1 (14 1/2 or 16 ounce) can tomatoes or stewed tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 medium green bell pepper, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin

Optional

  • 1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Cheddar or Monterey jack cheese
  • Sour cream
  • Chopped cilantro

Instructions

  1. In a 3-quart saucepan, combine rice-vermicelli mix, special seasonings, water, chicken, beans, tomatoes, green pepper, chili powder and cumin. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low; simmer uncovered, about 20 minutes or until rice is tender, stirring occasionally.
  2. Top with cheese, sour cream and cilantro if desired.

Not my story but my wife’s great uncle. So Uncle Wimp (as he was known) used to pick up hitchhikers, and one of them tried to rob him at knife point. Uncle Wimp look at the guy and told him that he had no money because he had ten kids at home. What he did next was typical for this great man. The told the robber that he was going to take him home and feed him, because the only reason he would have to rob him is because he was hungry. The robber was shocked, and stunned by this turn of events. When he got to Wimp’s home he looked around the table at the ten young faces and started crying. He ate dinner and went on his way. A week later a canned ham showed up at the house. My wife’s uncle thought it was from the would-be robber and most likely stolen, but he had 10 mouths to feed so he didn’t ask questions. It was a good outcome for the family, and hopefully the thief changed his ways. Rest in peace Charles Solomon Maliseet Medicine Man, WWII paratrooper – veteran of Normandy and Market-Garden, and a man of devout faith.

Realizing She Just Became The Murder Suspect

Back in 1992, a group of villagers in Longyou county, China stumbled upon an astonishing discovery. The area near the village of Shiyan Beicun was home to several ponds or rocky pools that were believed to be “bottomless” with depths that seemed to go on forever. Some of the ponds were even void of fish. In an effort to test the legend, the villagers drained one of the ponds using a hydraulic pump and were shocked to find that the “bottomless” ponds were actually ancient man-made caverns.

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To date, at least 24 (with some sources stating 36) of these flooded caves have been found in the area, with no connections between them.

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These remarkable caves were hand-carved out of siltstone rock and have walls that come as close as two feet to each other.

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The caves also feature intricate relief carvings on the walls in vast rooms.

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Although estimated to have been constructed around 2,000 years ago, it remains a mystery as to who constructed them and what they were used for.

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main qimg f49b6c89c055eb79153c4a2d899358d7

These caves are now known as the Longyou Caves…

EMERGENCY! NATO TROOPS To UKRAINE, NUKE BLAST ON RUSSIAS BORDER, WILDFIRE TOXIC PLUME IN NEXT 24 HRS

Tex-Mex Four-Cheese Potato Casserole

Cheesy Tex Mex Casserole2
Cheesy Tex Mex Casserole2

Ingredients

  • 1 (2-pound) package refrigerated mashed potatoes
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
  • 3/4 cup shredded 4-cheese Mexican-blend cheese
  • 1 teaspoon bottled minced garlic

Instructions

  1. Place the top oven rack about 5 inches way from the broiler element, and turn the broiler on high.
  2. Spoon the mashed potatoes into a microwave-safe, 2-quart casserole dish. Dot the potatoes with the butter.
  3. Sprinkle the chili powder over the potatoes.
  4. Sprinkle 1/2 cup of the cheese over the potatoes.
  5. Cover the casserole with plastic wrap, and cut 2 small holes in the wrap for ventilation.
  6. Microwave on HIGH for 4 minutes.
  7. Remove the plastic wrap, and stir in the garlic.
  8. Re-cover the dish, and microwave for 2 more minutes, or until completely heated through.
  9. Remove the dish from the microwave, discard the plastic wrap, and sprinkle on the remaining 1/4 cup of cheese.
  10. Place the casserole under the hot broiler for about 2 minutes, or until cheese melts and begins to turn golden.
  11. Serve immediately.

Yield: 6 servings

China’s Military POWER Explained | Just how strong is the Chinese military?

You’re a 19 year old kid.

You are critically wounded and dying in the jungle somewhere in the Central Highlands of Viet Nam .

Its November 14, 1965 . LZ (landing zone) X-ray.

Your unit is outnumbered 8-1 and the enemy fire is so intense from 100 yards away, that your CO (commanding officer) has ordered the MedEvac helicopters to stop coming in.

You’re lying there, listening to the enemy machine guns and you know you’re not getting out.

Your family is half way around the world, 12,000 miles away, and you’ll never see them again.

As the world starts to fade in and out, you know this is the day.

Then – over the machine gun noise – you faintly hear that sound of a helicopter.

You look up to see a Huey coming in. But.. It doesn’t seem real because no MedEvac markings are on it.

Captain Ed Freeman is coming in for you.

He’s not MedEvac so it’s not his job, but he heard the radio call and decided he’s

flying his Huey down into the machine gun fire anyway.

Even after the MedEvacs were ordered not to come. He’s coming anyway.

And he drops it in and sits there in the machine gun fire, as they load 3 of you at a time on board.

Then he flies you up and out through the gunfire to the doctors and nurses and safety. And, he kept coming back!! 13 more times!!

Until all the wounded were out. No one knew until the mission was over that the Captain had been hit 4 times in the legs and left arm.

He took 29 of you and your buddies out that day. Some would not have made it without the Captain and his Huey.

Medal of Honor Recipient, Captain Ed Freeman, United States Army, died at the age of 70, in Boise, Idaho.

May God Bless and Rest His Soul. I know he is sitting with our Lord telling each other stories!

I bet you didn’t hear about this hero’s passing,Medal of Honor Winner Captain Ed Freeman.

Now… YOU pass this along.

Honor this real hero.

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I don’t have much time so I’ll sketch an answer.

Riverine transport is one of the lowest cost and efficient transport system, particularly goods and commodities. It is also a great tool for flood alleviation and irrigation, among others.

The best thing is, canals can be built with locks to overcome the natural gradient.

What the Chinese are doing with the canals, like they have been for thousands of years, is the same as what they have recently done with highways, electric grids and HSR, and that is to bring connectivity and modernization to areas previously unserved by services.

Take Guangxi, for instance. Even my grandma, a native of Guangdong who had left China for decades, told me people from Guangxi were dull and couldn’t compete with those from Guangdong. She stated Guangdong ate way better than their next-door neighbor.

Which is truth bundled with prejudice, like most folksy observations.

A major disadvantage of Zhuang-administered Guangxi is the flow of the rivers, which go east to discharge in the Guangdong coast. River and marine transport is the historical reason for Guangdong’s prosperity, and why Hong Kong remains a key seaport and entryway to China today.

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The Pinglu canal pictured above will help Guangxi mirror the economic success further east. It won’t just be a canal but an entire marine/inland water transport system that’s integrated with the Pearl River delta.

The Zhuang are about to get a huge boost in their economy, and that includes a network of ports.

Just interesting things

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The Gruesome Truth About Gibbeting: Explored

The news that Micron’s products sold in China did not pass the network security review has caused a strong reaction in the US. This indirectly shows China’s decision has touched some Americans, demonstrating its power and producing additional effects. However, the true nature of the matter cannot be covered up by the US.

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2023 06 08 18 09

A US Commerce Department spokesperson said in a statement that this was a “raid and attack” on US companies, restrictions that “have no basis in fact” that would lead to “distortions of the memory chip market.” This is Washington’s consistent use of strong words to justify its actions. In fact, these words are just the phrases used to describe US actions of undermining free trade in recent years. But China is not the US, and will not learn bad behaviors from Washington.

The conclusion was made after a seven-week investigation by China’s General Administration of Customs and a network security review conducted by China’s Cybersecurity Review Office (CRO) in accordance with the law, which can withstand scrutiny. The review found that Micron’s products have serious network security risks, which pose significant security risks to China’s critical information infrastructure supply chain and affect China’s national security.

According to laws and regulations such as the country’s Cybersecurity Law, operators of critical information infrastructure in China should stop purchasing Micron’s products.

Besides assessing how much losses China’s decision will bring to Micron, the US also shows a certain degree of unease and insecurity, feeling that the “blast radius of this matter may be much larger.”

This is mainly because they have done many unscrupulous things to China and are very clear about what it means for the US to attack Chinese companies under the guise of “national security.” Therefore, they reflexively imagine that any action taken by China toward US companies is “retaliation.”

Of course, it is not a bad thing to make those who harm China’s interests feel uneasy, and it is a punishment they deserve. The Micron case is indeed the first time that CRO has conducted a review of a foreign company, but Micron is not the first company to undergo a security review by the office. The so-called “targeting foreign companies” is simply not true. The only thing it shows is that with the gradual improvement of China’s regulatory system, all market entities must comply with Chinese laws in their business activities. This is not about targeting specific companies. There will be no discrimination based on the different “identities” of the enterprise, neither will anyone be targeted nor given special treatment.

As one of the world’s largest manufacturers of semiconductor storage and imaging products, Micron’s products in China have long been said to have cybersecurity risks. In addition, Micron has always been known in the industry for its “aggressive competitive tactics” and has been accused of playing an instigating role in the US’ crackdown on Chinese technology, as well as being the US company that has dealt the most blows at Chinese chip enterprises. Micron itself knows clearly whether it has cooperated with Washington to export unsafe products to China, and this will undoubtedly determine its future in the Chinese market.

Take a look at US’ vicious and ruthless suppression against Huawei, and its greedy and lawless attempt to forcibly acquire TikTok. It has reached an extreme in trampling on the rules of free trade and the principles of fair competition. However, a legitimate and necessary action taken by China is used by the US to turn around and bite back, which is indicative of their guilty conscience and unreasonableness. They must be kicked in the teeth and be made to weigh the consequences carefully.

Big name retail stores now targeted by gangs in organized hits: Investigators | Nightline

This is the reality in the United States today.

This question comes up a lot, and it comes from a lack of understanding of the difference between the post-WWII mothball fleet and the current state of the US Navy.

During World War II, the United States built the largest fleet in the world. Most of those ships were commissioned between 1943 and 1945. By September 1945, the US Navy operated over 6,700 ships, including 28 aircraft carriers, 23 battleships, 71 escort carriers, 72 cruisers, over 232 submarines, and 377 destroyers.

When the war ended, most of these ships were redundant, but most of them also only had 2 – 3 years of steaming on their hulls, so they were practically new. Thus was born the mothball fleet.

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These ships were meticulously preserved and kept ready for recommissioning should the situation require it, and the US Navy lived off these collected assets for the next 25 years. These ships could easily be refurbished, upgraded, and sent to the fleet as needed, and they were.

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Gearing Class Destroyer during World War II

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Gearing Destroyer with FRAM modifications (1960s – ‘70s)

The last of the Gearing Class destroyers were decommissioned from the US Navy in 1983.

When a modern US Navy ship is decommissioned, it has seen 25 to 30 years of hard use. The usable life has been squeezed out of it. The preservation process is nowhere near comprehensive as that done to WWII ships, mainly because everyone knows these ships are just being held until their final dispositions are decided. Most will be scrapped, and a few will be expended as targets.

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Ticonderoga Class Cruisers stored at Philidelphia.

If it were practical or made economic sense to refurbish and upgrade these ships, they would have been kept in service. This is especially true of the 1950s through 1980s vintage ships that had aluminum superstructures on steel hulls that suffered from cracking and corrosion problems.

The Navy got everything out of those ships that they had to give.

BRICS is adding members, planning new currency to challenge US dollar

A friend of mine was heading to town. At the time the highway was undergoing significant repair. This genius in a sports car was tailgating him so close that the headlights couldn’t be seen in the mirror. My friend has a Chevrolet S-10 Z-71… a truck built from the factory to drive thru rough terrain. The bridge at the time had all of the asphalt stripped off to the bare concrete, and the max speed was 35 mph. My friend just before the bridge sped up to 55 mph. The tailgater was so intent on camping his bumper that he failed to notice. I was shown the rear view footage and it was glorious. The sports car launched into the air with a spectacular spray of sparks to accompany the flight.

MARY HARTMAN E133

https://youtu.be/IP6B1r94FqE?list=PLCY6KBmKh0OMnSSlXyNCtAnrlyoIJzHyU

The US “won’t tolerate” China’s effective ban on purchases of Micron Technology memory chips and is working closely with allies to address such “economic coercion,” U.S. Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo said on Saturday.

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Raimondo told a news conference after a meeting of trade ministers in the U.S.-led Indo-Pacific Economic Framework talks that the U.S. “firmly opposes” China’s actions against Micron.

These “target a single U.S. company without any basis in fact, and we see it as plain and simple economic coercion and we won’t tolerate it, nor do we think it will be successful.”

China’s cyberspace regulator said on May 21 that Micron, the biggest U.S. memory chip maker, had failed its network security review and that it would block operators of key infrastructure from buying from the company, prompting it to predict a revenue reduction.

The move came a day after leaders of the G7 industrial democracies agreed to new initiatives to push back against economic coercion by China — a decision noted by Raimondo.

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2023 06 08 18 25

LOL

Imagine its just Micron that China has started with. The list is endless if China started continuing this process by doing the “Huawei” on the US.

Apple (iPhone) derives its 30% profit from China. What if Chinese started boycotting it and Tesla?

Their share value would plummet drastically, which if combined with other companies, would collapse the Nasdaq and S&P which has 40 + trillions market cap.

No wonder the US came to its own rescue and started a dialogue with China on semiconductors issue – whatever the outcome be.

“Tesla’s 5 Secret Successors” Who Mysteriously Disappeared

Which planet does this China reside on? Mars?

On planet Earth at least, China has the world’s largest:

  1. Overseas student population. (>600k)
  2. Traveling tourists. (>150m)
  3. Container traffic.
  4. Diplomatic missions. (>170 countries)

There are also Chinatowns (or significant Chinese population) in many cities around the world maintaining cultural and economic ties with the mainland.

China is the largest or second largest trading partner with more than 130 countries worldwide. She is also the proponent of the One Belt One Road initiative which seeks to build infrastructure connecting China with Asia, Africa, the Americas and Europe.

China is also busy signing free trade agreements and further opening up her domestic markets to FDI, as well as evolving legislation to international standards.

China has paid her dues as a member of both the UN and WTO, and by and large, has been an exemplarary global citizen.

All this points to a global player keen to be part of shared humanity, and not a hermit kingdom closed off from the world.

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Passport bros and the African-American women that they enrage

I learned something today. Just stop talking to Americans on social media. They are angry, rude, insulting, and just real dicks. I think that in the future, the term “American” will be synonymous with asshole.

In other “news”…

My wife was in a minor accident. A teenager, without a drivers license, and driving an unlicensed scooter ran in front of her, and it was a minor fender bender. Luckily the location had a traffic cop right there. (It happened right in front of him.)

No harm done. Some scrapes. We declined to do anything about it, and so the kid just got back up on his scoot and hurried away to work.

It could of been worse. But wasn’t. Good thing.

Today’s post.

In 2015, a man named Joel Burger married a woman named Ashley King. Burger King decided to fully fund the ceremony:

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Seriously…

What are the chances???

But things don’t stop there. The buzz was so much that the staff of the restaurant line decided to contact the couple and say that they would cover all the costs of the ceremony.

How not to love?

Joel and Ashley said in an interview that they have known each other since kindergarten and that they were even united because all of their classmates thought the union of their names was funny.

My 10-year-old daughter came home from school one day and walked into my office. I looked up, scowled and spat out, “And what do you want?”

She thought a moment and said, “You know, Dad, you sound angry. But you’re not angry at me. You’re angry for some other reason and you’re taking it out on me.”

That stopped me cold. When I thought about what she’d said, I knew she was right. And I knew that I couldn’t snap at her again, not without good reason. In fact, I couldn’t snap at anyone again, not without good reason, and that good reason would have to be very good.

And that changed my life.

Resistance is futile. Look at the map, can you find Taiwan? The only salvation is to surrender as fast as possible to avoid bloodshed. Longer the resistance the more bloodshed it will be. Look no further than Ukraine.

Nobody ever used the formal board room.

Well, that might be an exaggeration — technically the quarterly board meetings were held there, but that was it. And I always knew when those were happening because they were a Big Deal and required days of preparation on my part every time.

As the office manager for the Houston branch of a medium-sized oil & gas company, I knew everything that went on in that space. Every morning I made the rounds of the office — straightening chairs in the two smaller conference rooms that actually saw regular use, refilling drinks in the fridge, wiping down spots the janitorial crew had missed…that office was my domain and I maintained it with pride.

Every morning I poked my head into the board room and it was always exactly as I had left it, in pristine condition, because nobody had opened the door except me.

When my fibromyalgia started a major, weeks-long flare up I did my best not to let it affect my job, but by lunchtime each day I was exhausted and in a lot of pain.

My desk was in the reception area of the office and it would obviously look less than professional for me to put my head down or otherwise try to rest there, so I took to crawling under the 12 foot long conference table in the board room to nap through my lunch hour most days.

This would usually perk me up enough to make it through the rest of the day, and since nobody ever went in there, it was no different from me walking to a nearby restaurant for my lunch break. I kept a large shawl/scarf folded in my desk that I used to cover up if it was chilly, and my three-ring binder had a puffy cover that served well enough as a makeshift pillow. Anyone seeing me walk into or out of the room would see me carrying a folded up scarf and a binder; nothing unusual.

One day I was curled in a painful ball under the table, unable to sleep (as was often the case) but enjoying the chance to relax and recharge, when the unthinkable happened — the conference room door opened and I heard multiple male voices chatting loudly.

A Senior Vice President had invited a couple of friends to the office and was giving them the grand tour before leaving for lunch with them.

I froze and took stock of my position under the table and that of my belongings. There was a non-zero chance that, from the angle of the door, the intruders would think a few chairs were pushed away from the back side of the table where I had crawled underneath (bad enough in my estimation because I always kept the conference chairs perfectly spaced and aligned) but not realize anyone was in the room.

Alas…the SVP was one of those lovely execs who doesn’t think they’re too good to push in a chair. He walked around the table and when he leaned to straighten the first chair, our eyes met.

I gave him a panicked, “No, shhhh, nothing to see here!” gesture (probably looking like I was having some sort of seizure that involved slitting my own throat) and after a startled “Oh!” he proceeded to push the chairs closer to the table but not close enough to hit me.

He then smoothly guided his friends back out of the board room and a few minutes later I heard them leave the office. I shakily bundled up my stuff and returned to my desk, wondering if I would be in trouble when he got back and how I would explain myself.

Upon his return from lunch he asked very formally if he could please see me in his office for a minute. I grabbed my notebook and pen and followed him with my head down.

After closing the door he told me to sit down and then asked me in a very kind voice if I was okay, if there were problems at home, and if I needed anything.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I fought to keep from breaking down. He knew about the fibro — all of my bosses did, because sometimes during a flare up I walk funny and fibro fog

is a real thing — but he hadn’t realized how bad it was or how hard it could be to get through a work day.

He assured me that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone and I was free to continue resting in the board room anytime I needed to. He also told me that if there were days I was having a hard time, I should let him know and he would come up with a reason for me to arrive late or leave early from the office.

I’ve never forgotten his kindness. In a situation when he had every right to demand an explanation, he offered a sympathetic ear and support I didn’t expect.

Almost four years since we each left that company, I ran into him at Jason’s Deli a couple of weeks ago. We said we should have lunch; we probably won’t, but it made me smile to see him. There are indeed kind humans out there, even as corporate executives.

The Black Woman Was Weaponized To Destroy The Black Family

Watch this. See the other side.

When I was a student at Salford University I met a group of American exchange students from Detroit.

They wanted to see as much of the U.K. as they could whilst over here and one of the trips they booked was a coach tour around North Wales. Excitement started to grow when I told them Wales is another country, separate from England.

A couple of days before they were due to leave I asked if they’d managed to get their entry visas through in time. They all started to get very worried as it hadn’t occurred to them they’d need a visa.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “they hardly ever check them anyway and the coach probably won’t even stop at the border. Just wave your passport at the window as you drive past, they’ll see you’re American and everything will be fine.”

When they got back a few days later I had a massive roasting. Apparently the bus was full of Americans and the girls had asked the driver to let them know when they were approaching the border. As they drove through an entire bus full of Americans all waved their passports at the sheep in the neighbouring fields. The driver, so I’m told, didn’t stop laughing for the rest of their excursion.

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A whirlwind of changes is taking place in the global financial markets threatening the superiority of the U.S. dollar. A handful of countries in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Europe are looking to end reliance on the dollar and promote BRICS or their native currencies. Iraq banned the U.S. dollar, posing a hefty fine and jail term for anyone trading with the USD.

The Iraqi government banned entities from initiating business transactions with the U.S. dollar. Iraq aims to control the fluctuating black market exchange rate, that plagues the country for decades. The move is also positioned to strengthen the usage of the Iraqi Dinar in the Forex markets.

Offenders who trade in the U.S. dollar will face a penalty of up to 1 million Iraqi Dinar. Repeat offenders will also face a jail term of one year and have their business licenses overturned.

The South African BRICS ambassador confirmed that European countries have expressed interest to join the BRICS alliance. He did not reveal the names of the European nations but hinted that a global financial change is brewing. According to recent developments, all arrows point towards France and Belarus showing interest to join BRICS.

France settled an LNG gas trade with China by settling the cross-border transaction with the Chinese Yuan in March. French President Emmanuel Macron also called for the European Union to distance itself from the U.S. dollar.

Great question! He was WAY worse in real life compared to Gladiator.

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Gladiator portrays Commodus as this obsessive power-hungry monster concerned with the love of the people above all.

In reality, Commodus was a vain, sick, and evil bastard that caused tons of suffering to countless people and cared only for himself.


Commodus’s had a good father to learn from. His dad and Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, was a top-tier Emperor who worked very hard to maintain the strength of the Empire.

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When Marcus died and passed power to his son he was at the end of a years-long war against the Germanic tribes along the border, specifically the Marcomanni. These tribes had long been a serious problem and had been raiding the Empire constantly for centuries.

Marcus was closing in on victory when he died and made his son promise to finish the wars. Once Commodus was in power though he decided that he just didn’t want to spend any more time fighting the Germans and ended the war with a crappy peace deal.

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Back in Rome, there were problems. Commodus could care less though.

You see Commodus never wanted to be Emperor. He only ever wanted to be a gladiator.

So Commodus appointed his two best friends (both slaves) to run the Empire while he went off to be a gladiator.

This was bonkers FYI. Gladiators were slaves who died for the amusement of the people. To see an Emperor fight as a gladiator is like seeing the President walk the street as a hooker trying to turn tricks.

While Commodus trained and fought his buddies mucked it all up. Rome would experience a famine, economic hardship, and social upheaval all while Commodus played gladiator.

Commodus would nearly bankrupt the treasury his father had built up by throwing near-constant gladiator games. You see Commodus loved to fight in the ring, though his opponents had dull swords and could never win. Mostly though Commodus enjoyed killing animals.

Moreover, Commodus loved to kill people he deemed “weird”. This includes women, dwarfs, disabled people, mentally ill people- you name it. He really enjoyed making them suffer often slowly killing them to show off his sword or bow skills.

In the end, the idiot would leave a “people I am going to kill” list on his desk for his mistress to find. The chief name on the list was hers, Commodus’s trainer, and a number of Senators. They decided to strike first and Commodus was strangled to death in his bath.

This was just last week, I was waiting for my wife to finish shopping at the (OMG soooo expensive) Westminster Abbey shop, when a group of American girls reached the till, (checkout) for payment, one of them proudly presented her black Amex card. Now the spotty lad on the till who was doing his best to control the queue said “sorry, we don’t accept this card”. Now this is when things started to get interesting, the young girl, maybe 17 or 18 years of age, I say girl because she was no lady, screams at the boy, “of course you take it, are stupid?” Now the spotty lad kept his cool and showed her the card indicating the payment options and surprise, surprise, NO AMEX . Well the girl turns bright puce and makes another attempt to explain to ‘spotty’ he is wrong. Shouting quite loudly now she says, “you have to take it, because the brochure says ‘accepted in the best places all over the world’ Is London not one of the best places”? ‘Spotty’ said yes it is, but you still can’t use it here. The girl just looked at her friends, screaming like a two year old who has been told ‘No’ and stormed out of the shop. “You could hear a pin drop” until an elderly gentleman in the queue said “well done lad, bloody yanks think they own the place” this was greeted with murmurs of approval, and normal service was resumed.

Chinese experts have developed a bomber ammunition that resembles the Switchblade. The drone is called Yousun, but all parameters are being kept secret.

Here’s What is Known:

The hovering munition looks similar to the Switchblade drone developed by the US company AeroVironment. But the key feature of the Yousun is the ability to launch from ships and submarines.

As the drone can also be launched from under water. This will have major implications for China’s warfighting capabilities in East Asia.

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2023 06 06 20 54

The kamikaze drone is designed to destroy defensive fortifications. It is 2.5-3m long and equipped with folding wings. The video above shows the bomber unfolding its wings after launch.

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2023 06 06 20ds 54

This happened here in Mumbai.

A girl was being married against her wishes.

People thought she would kill her wishes for her parents’ happiness.

Here’s how she acted bravely:

(In Islamic law a jurist has to ask the bride and the groom if they accept each other, thrice.)

1st time…

When Kazi (Muslim Jurist) asked her, “Do you accept it?”

She was supposed to say, “Yes, I accept.”

She: “Mujhe Qubool nahi hy” (I don’t accept this).

2nd time…

Kazi (Worried): “Kya tumne Qubool kiya?” (Do you accept it?)

She: “Mujhe qubool nahi hy” (I don’t accept this.)

*Now her parents got worried* *Her parents took her in a separate room, cried, argued, did everything to convince her to say yes. Finally she agreed to say yes.*

3rd time (Final time)…

Kazi (Sweat running down his head): “Kya tumne Qubool kiya?” (Do you accept it?)

*After a pause*

She: “Mujhe Qubool nahi hy” (I don’t accept it!!)

“Damnnn..!!! girl what did you do?!?” crowd uttered from all sides. There was chaos.

She refused it thrice. Now as per Islamic law, a marriage is not possible between them.

Finally, her parents had to agree to let her marry her boyfriend (a different man).

Brave girl.

Lucky is that guy, her boyfriend, to have such a courageous girl.

USA Begs Mexico On Its Knees To Not Join BRICS

The Producers (1968) The Hitler Auditions

TWO (2) ***ACTIVE DUTY *** British Soldiers KILLED inside Ukraine

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2023 06 06 11 24

Last night in Ukraine, two British soldiers were killed by Russian Su-24 bombers which annihilated their multi-million dollar UK Storm Shadow missiles at Kropivnitskiy airfield in Ukraine.

In addition, at least one (1) critically injured ***ACTIVE DUTY** UK soldier was airlifted to Poland from that same strike scene.

Thus, active duty NATO military are, in fact, inside Ukraine where they do not belong, and now, they’re getting killed.

Why China Doesn’t Identify with the West, Explained

so I decided to walk over to them and I asked her ” how was the meeting today darlin? ” she looked at me and said ” it was good, I’ll tell you more about it when we get home in a few “. I replied with ” wonderful I’ll pick up your favorite for dinner”.

The two guys left in a hurry and she told me ” you have no idea how much that meant to me …. thank you.” I said “you’re very welcome ma’am …. you can never be too careful. “

I made sure the guys left before I walked back to my car and as I was walking back all I could do was think ” I hope a man does that for my future daughter one day”.”

~ Cody Bret

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China is a far better place to live than the US!! They won’t admit it, though.

She’s right. Cashless is awesome!

BRICS is moving at a rapid pace to sideline the U.S. dollar and promote their native currencies for global trade. Around 41 countries have expressed their interest to join the BRICS alliance and accept the new currency for cross-border transactions.

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2023 06 06 20 50

Russia and China are convincing many other countries to enter the bloc to dethrone the U.S. dollar. The USD’s global reserve status is being challenged by developing nations and could send the greenback on a path of decline.

10 ASEAN countries have agreed to stop trading in the U.S. dollar and will use native currencies for cross-border settlements. ASEAN is a bloc of 10 countries compromising Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam.

The ASEAN alliance put a declaration in place avoiding the U.S. dollar for settlements and advancing the local currency usage. The Eastern countries are taking steps to end reliance on the dollar and create a new global financial order.

On the other hand, the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries are following suit with the ASEAN bloc. Member nations of GCC Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates have expressed their interest to join BRICS. In addition, Saudi Arabia is in talks to fund the BRICS bank, commonly called The New Development Bank (NDB).

If Saudi Arabia funds the BRICS bank, the alliance could receive an economic boost and sideline the U.S. dollar. The move could attract many other countries to accept the BRICS currency and stop trading with the dollar altogether. Read here to know more details on why Saudi funding the BRICS bank is dangerous to the American economy.

The decision to launch a new currency will be jointly taken in the next summit in South Africa in August.

“We have ALIEN craft in our possession” – Govt. UFO whistleblower admits BOMBSHELL

The USA needs a new enemy.

Below another bad news for US decoupling policy:

2023 04 25: Foxconn new headquarter open in China 郑州 (Zheng Zhou)

This is after experiencing the trouble in the Vietnam, India, and US factories, and APPLE transfers businesses to other Chinese manufacturers due to Foxconn other factories unable to operate smoothly in those countries as planned. So, 10 months ago, Foxconn decided to set up a second factory in Zheng Zhou.

Article HERE

UPDATED 9:50 PM EDT — Ukraine begins ‘large-scale offensive’ – Russian MOD

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2023 06 06 11 26

UPDATED 9:50 PM EDT — Ukrainian forces have attacked the Russian troops along five sections of the frontline in Donbass during their “large-scale offensive,” the Russian Defense Ministry said in the early hours of Monday.

According to the MOD, the assault began on Sunday morning. “The enemy’s goal was to breach our defenses in what they assumed was the most vulnerable section of the frontline,” the ministry said in a statement.

“The enemy has failed to reach its goals and was unsuccessful,” the ministry stated.

The MOD said that Ukraine had deployed the 23rd and the 31st mechanized brigade from its “strategic reserves,” which were supported in battle by other units.

“The Ukrainian Armed Forces have lost more than 250 service members, 16 tanks, three infantry vehicles, and 21 armored vehicles,” the MOD said.

The ministry released a video of what it said were strikes on Ukrainian military vehicles.

Ukrainian President Vladimir Zelensky said on Saturday that Kiev was ready to launch its long-planned counteroffensive and that the military could not wait “for months.” The deputy head of his office, Igor Zhovkva, however, said the same day that his country had still not received enough weapons and ammunition to mount a successful campaign.

Kiev has recently stepped up the artillery and drone attacks on Russian cities, including a UAV raid on Moscow last week. The Russian Defense Ministry said on Sunday evening that the troops had repelled an armed incursion into the Belgorod Region, which shares a border with Ukraine.

The Russian Volunteer Corps (RDK) and the ‘Freedom of Russia’ Legion – two pro-Kiev groups made up of fighters with neo-Nazi background – claimed responsibility for that attack and similar forays into Russian territory that took place throughout this spring.

Belgorod Governor Vyacheslav Gudkov wrote on his Telegram channel early Monday morning that a drone strike had started a fire on “an energy infrastructure site.” He added that there were no casualties and no power outages.

UPDATED 9:50 AM EDT —

Ukraine Army (UA)  forces have breached the first lines of defense near Velyka Novosilka, Southern Donetsk.

The villages of Neskuchne and Novodarivka have been liberated and russians have fallen back to reserve positions in Storozheve.

Assaults ongoing.

The Reason why Men are Walking Away from Dating (Ep. 347)

I don’t want to offend anyone.

I feel for the women, but see the men’s side of the story.

“Rainy Day In Ireland”

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2023 06 06 11 31

Pennsylvania Dutch Sour Cream Cabbage

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2023 06 06 16 15

Ingredients

  • 1 medium head cabbage, shredded
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil (for frying)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 pint (2 cups) sour cream
  • 2 cups distilled white vinegar

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
  2. Add cabbage, salt and pepper and cook until tender, 15 to 20 minutes.
  3. Mix sugar and flour together in a medium bowl, then add sour cream and mix well; finally stir in vinegar and mix well.
  4. Add mixture to cabbage and simmer all together until desired consistency is reached.

AFRICAN Woman DEFENDS Passport Bros And CLAPS Back At Black American Women

So much pain. Ugh.

The answer is in how you deal with it.

https://youtu.be/hPQG5LjuiJA

There was a journalist(s) on the Canadian warship. Experience tells us that the Jun3 incident was a plot by USA+Canada to give people an impression that China was aggressive. After all, in the 20th Defense conference, China Defense Leader talked to counterparts of many countries. Except USA.

Anyway, what is Innocent Passage under UN Convention of Law Of Sea? Below are my over-simplified points.

Innocent Passage ie friendly, thru the waters of coastal state means …

the passage does not harm the peace, good order or safety of coastal state.

The following action is NOT Innocent Passage (ie hostile) to the coastal state

1, do military

2, do military drill

3, do surveillance

4, do propaganda to harm the defense & safety

5, aircraft carrier with warplanes taking off or landing

6, shoot, load or unload artillery equipment

7, break custom, immigration or health-related eg illegal drug

8, cause pollution

9, fishery

10, research or survey

11, interrupt communication system

Coastal state has the right to prevent non-innocent passage, by …

1, set up its own laws

2, ban fishing

3, temporarily block Innocent Passage

4, self determine another seaway as Innocent Passage

5, set up a system to monitor the passing ships

6, patrol

7, to suspicious ships, coastal state can go on board, inspect, search, detain & take proper action

8, order to leave before certain date

Let us play judge re the Jun6 incident.

1, China has warned US+Canadian warships to leave. China said USA+Canada were non-Innocent Passage ie hostile. I have not heard USA or Canada refuted.

When a US warship sailed thru Taiwan strait the 1st time after Pelosi’s trip to Taiwan, the artillery on the US warship pointed at the sky. Have US+Canadian warships done so this time? Or have they covered their cannonballs? Or more.

Tell us their friendly side, please. So that we can help them scold China.

2, UNCLOS says coastal state can set up its laws to prevent non-innocent passage. Plus point 7 re suspicious. That gives China lots of room to maneuver.

Like it or not, under ONE CHINA principle, Taiwan is part of China. Taiwan strait is an inner sea of China.

It is not up to USA to unilaterally say this or that. Today’s Latin American, Middle East, Africa or ASEAN do not take US order. Needless to say today’s strong China.

3, What is Freedom of Navigation in terms of dispute?

In short, it is another state challenging the Innocent Passage of the coastal state.

9 Filipinas CLAP Back HARD | They ❤️ Passport Bros

They do not want to be the scapegoat.

Only in the United States, the cradle of Democracy

This is Dianne Feinstein

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2023 06 06 16 22

  • she is 89 years old
  • she is a Senator
  • who almost never show up at the Senate
  • she is reported to have cognitive issues, similar to President Joe Biden
  • as well as suffering from some very painful disease
  • during the course of her tenure in office, she has amassed over $200 million in assets

Elected American officials are allowed to put their own interests and ego over the interest of the American people. Americans deserve better. They deserve leaders who can lead them to a better place.

Passport Bros Are WINNING With FILIPINA Women!

Again. They are sick and tired of being blamed.

On Saturday June 3, 2023, a historic event happened in the Taiwan Strait.

A Chinese warship intercepted an American destroyer. The USS Chung-Hoon claimed to have asked the Chinese ship to stay away from it but the Chinese responded "Move, or there would be a collision". Eventually, the USS Chung-Hoon changed course and slowed down to avoid a crash.

That's the right attitude and the right language when dealing with an international bully.

There is a time for diplomacy but there is also a time for right assertiveness. And right now, so-called diplomacy would undeniably be cowardice.

Tot Ziens ! Quan

Article HERE

You Can Talk About PA55PORT BRO5 But Don’t Talk About Them | LESSON LEARNED

Fighting back.

Russian Ministry for Civil Defense Has Got a Bizarre Honey Cake Employee Now

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photo 2021 08 21 17 31 55

In the city of Tula the Russian EMERCOM (Ministry of the Russian Federation for Civil Defense, Emergency Management and Natural Disasters Response) has got a new mascot and employee – the honey cake of Tula (which is the symbol of the city). Mr. Honey Cake even has his own offical ID and a medal for propaganda of the rescue work.

h/t: englishrussia

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photo 2021 08 21 17 32 12

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photo 2021 08 21 17 32 09

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photo 2021 08 21 17 32 07

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photo 2021 08 21 17 32 04

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photo 2021 08 21 17 32 02

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photo 2021 08 21 17 31 59

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bigpicture ru p phtdm28q4

The US Has NO CHANCE of Defeating China in Taiwan

Real.

Allies after allies now turned against the United States

The newly re-elected Government of Turkey’s Interior Minister Suleyman Soylu, speaking to a crowd from a balcony promised that Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan would:

  • “wipe away whoever causes trouble” for Turkey “and that includes the American military.”
  • Earlier, he declared that those who “pursue a pro-American approach will be considered traitors.”
  • Keep in mind that Turkey has been a member of NATO AND the most critical NATO member after the United States

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2023 06 06 19 28

Personally, I wonder why this took so long

  • the US supported an attempted coup against Erdogan. The leader of the coup is based in the US; and
  • American proxies, based in Syria, have launched attacks in Turkey
  • however, it does NOT surprise me that it is the Muslim countries that are now strongly speaking out against the US because the US and its western allies have killed and dislocated tens of millions of them in just the last two decades alone

A powerful Muslim world is currently increasingly convalescing behind the BRI world and will provide decisive military support to China in any future conflagaration.

Biden Is ‘In Denial’ Over Collapse Of Empire – Economist Richard Wolff

Back in the early 2000’s I worked for Mega Evil Douchebag Corp (might not be the actual name, but that’s how I remember it…). MEDC main business was giving credit cards to people with bad credit. Seriously, you could have a single digit credit score and these people would say yes.

Due to the type of people this attracted, nearly 80% of people defaulted on their cards, usually after the first bill arrived and they realised it wasn’t free money. As staff, I also had a card, but with better rates and a considerably higher credit limit.

Because of the number of defaults, MEDC had a contract with a particularly belligerent debt collection agency. These debt collectors would come to the office once a month, go to the records room and be handed a pile of defaulted accounts. Every month they would leave with bin bags full of paperwork.

One day I had cause to go to the records room and I was amazed at what I saw. The room was exactly as the name suggests, a room full of customer records, but that’s as far as it went in terms of an accurate description. The records were everywhere. Piles on this desk, piles on that desk. Heaps on the floor. Boxes in no discernible order. It was a mess – and that’s being polite.

The debt collectors used to go into this room and were only supposed to take records from a particular desk. In fact, they took whatever they wanted.

One month, they managed to get my paperwork by mistake. This began more than six long months of letters, phonecalls, emails and debt collectors turning up at my door threatening me with bankruptcy and prison if I didn’t pay the full sum I owed them.

I didn’t owe them anything. My account was still open and my card in regular use. One of the conditions of having a card as a staff member was you had to pay the balance in full every month. I did, and could prove it.

Being debt collectors, and therefore not the brightest of individuals, they wouldn’t accept “go fuck yourself” as payment for a debt I didn’t owe, so I told them to take me to court. Eventually they did.

When I got to court I saw their solicitors huddling together, no doubt discussing how they were going to crush me under their mighty law degrees. I represented myself.

In the actual courtroom, I was sat on one side, on my own with just a glass of water and my wallet on the desk. They were sat on their side, all shiny briefcases, stacks of folders containing damning paperwork and expensive suits. I saw them look over at me a couple of times, knowing they were going to win. I just sat there quietly.

The judge walked in, introduced himself, and for my benefit, explained how this hearing would work. I sat, listened and nodded appropriately.

Before we started, he asked me why I was representing myself. I explained this was an easy case and I didn’t feel the need to waste money on a solicitor. I was also asked why I didn’t have any paperwork with me and I explained that I didn’t believe I needed any and was confident in my ability to defend myself, but that I would be asking the courts indulgence to break a minor rule during my defence, but I would explain at the time what I wanted to do, and why.

It was all very friendly. Then it was like he flipped a switch in his brain to turn “judge mode” on.

The debt collectors solicitors started as they were bringing the case against me.

According to them I had entered into a contract with Mega Evil Douchebag Corp for the supply and use of a line of credit, by means of a MEDC credit card. I had the benefit of that card (legal speak for “he used it”). I had failed to make payments as obligated by the contract, and payment demands. After a period of time, MEDC cancelled the line of credit, the card and the account, and sent the account to collections. Collections tried to contact me on many occasions, were unable to do so, and eventually sold the account to the debt collectors. The debt collectors then tried collecting the money owed over six months and were unable to do so, as I repeatedly refused to pay.

In evidence of their allegations they had the original MEDC card paperwork and all the account statements. They also provided copies of all the letters they sent me demanding payment, and proof of receipt of several of them. They stated that I told them over the phone I didn’t know who MEDC were, and that I never had a card with them.

It was a cut and dry, air-tight case. They had the contract, they had the letters, they had everything they needed to get a judgement in their favour.

In fact, they had nothing.

Now it was my turn.

I stood and immediately apologised for wasting the courts time. I opened my wallet and took out the obviously well used Evil Douchebag credit card and explained I never denied having one, or regularly using it. I then took out my company ID card, showing I was an employee of MEDC and then explained what that meant in terms of having one of their cards.

I asked for the statements being used against me and they were handed over. I showed the judge each and every time I had made full payment against the amount owed (which was every month as per the staff conditions). I then explained that the account had not been closed and sent to debt collectors as it was still open, and had been used that week to buy petrol.

The judge stopped me and asked the solicitors if my account was open or closed. They confirmed it was definitely closed.

He asked me to continue and it was at this point I asked to break the rules. I told the judge I could definitively prove their entire case was bogus by making a simple phonecall. I asked the clerk to call the customer services number on the statements the solicitors provided against me and the judge agreed. I went through security and connected to a customer rep. I asked for my current balance and the amount owed on the next payment. I then asked him to confirm if the account was listed as open or closed. He – of course – said it was open. I finally asked if he could check the notes screen for any Collections Dept activity and he said there was none. That’s where I ended the call.

I thanked the judge and quickly explained that since I studied law at A-level, there was something I had always wanted to say in open court, even though it wasn’t the done thing in the UK, and before he could say anything, I said “I rest my case”.

The judge just about went mental. He dismissed the case immediately, but refused to let the solicitors leave until they had explained why they were chasing me for a debt I very clearly didn’t owe. He wanted to know how their clients added fees were calculated, and exactly what was being charged for the “court fees” I was being charged too. He also told them that whilst I had no evidence of what was said when they visited my home and told me they would make sure I went to prison, he was inclined to believe me. Not only that, but he would now be watching out for cases involving their clients and be more inclined to accept verbal evidence than he normally would.

I just sat there and watched them squirm as they couldn’t answer any questions he wanted answers to. The judge told me I was free to leave if I wanted to, but the solicitors weren’t going anywhere until he had answers. As I left the courtroom, they were on the phone with their clients demanding those answers.

The judge told me “well done” as I left, smiling. I sincerely doubt the solicitors were smiling for quite some time afterwards.

General Ray Davis USMC fought the Imperial Japanese Army, North Korean People’s Army, Chinese People’s Volunteers, and the North Vietnamese Army during his storied career. He was awarded the Medal of Honor while commanding an infantry battalion in 1950 during the Chosin Reservoir Campaign. I had the pleasure to meet him one afternoon in Virginia. During our conversation, I asked him for his opinion on the combat performance of the various enemy armed forces he fought over the course of three different wars. His response is provided below.

  1. The Imperial Japanese Army was the toughest adversary he ever encountered on the battlefield. Japanese soldiers used their weaponry with great skill. Their camouflage and concealment was first rate. Their iron discipline and refusal to surrender made Imperial soldiers extremely difficult to defeat. They always fought to the death when overrun.
  2. Chinese People’s Army volunteers were good soldiers. A lot of them were former Nationalist soldiers who had received excellent combat training from US Army instructors during WW II. The communist cadre provided mostly excellent leadership. Most CPV command groups had worked together in combat against the Japanese and the Nationalists before the Korean War and were thoroughly trained and experienced in the art of war. But the average Chinese soldiers lacked initiative and Chinese commanders tended to double down on failure during offensive combat. If one attack failed, a second, third, etc attack would generally use the same avenues of approach and tactics even though every proceeding attack failed. Chinese weaponry was a mixed bag. Logistics appeared terrible. Uniforms were unsuited for winter combat in Korea. Thousands of Chinese died from exposure and inadequate food and medical supplies. If the cadre became casualties, Chinese soldiers tended to surrender or retreat. Overall, the Chinese were tough soldiers, but the average soldier wasn’t as committed as an Imperial Japanese soldier.
  3. The North Koreans were tough soldiers, but he only fought them briefly in Korea. Like the Chinese, North Korean units were prone to surrender or sudden withdrawals if their leadership cadre became casualties.
  4. The North Vietnamese Army was highly disciplined, well led, and wielded its weaponry with great skill. NVA commanders refused to allow their units to be wiped out in unequal battles against US forces. They knew how to hit hard and when to break contact. NVA commanders always realized it was better to withdraw and live to fight another day rather than be annihilated on the battlefield. The NVA and the NV government focused on fighting the long war and outlasting US political will. They succeeded. Nonetheless, Davis assessed that the Imperial Japanese soldiers were tougher overall adversaries.

I hope this post answers your question.

Being disabled and looking like I do there are two things I always get to overhear. Going through TSA my name comes up red flagged. Meaning check him completely.

A customs agent told me “it’s due to your Military career and past knowledge.”

What the hell does that mean? I’m in a wheelchair and have metal in my leg, shoulder, and back. I am a wand beep show. All hands pat downs in a wheelchair. You need two hips to stand, so I can’t stand. Any chance I am taking over the plane? Gunpowder tests on hands AND ARMS. OK so the Navy/CIA service made me an enemy of the state or something?

I think it is BS and it’s profiling but my wife said “no it’s not.”

Then you have people whispering when we get on first. “Bet they fake it to board first…”

I tore into a woman I heard say that. I yelled so loud the airport got quiet. Does it look like I’m faking it? I tried to get out of wheelchair and fell. Hurt. But I felt better with that. Maybe she’ll get it some day.

My wife wasn’t happy about my antics but I’m so tired of it. And she knows. On the plane though I overheard a mom telling their kid there is no difference between disabled people and us. Except a part of their body just doesn’t work like ours. She had me in tears. The best explanation of a disabled person I have ever heard explained. And plainly so a child could understand it. The kid kept asking me if I needed any help?

HURRAY FOR THAT MOM. YOU MADE MY DAY!

The F-35 stealth fighter’s Pratt & Whitney F135 engines have cost the Pentagon $38 billion of dollars in unexpected maintenance costs due, according to a new report by auditors from the U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO)

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main qimg 9e76ed5560164a669499831ccb61c4ad

The engine’s cooling capacity in particular has been wholly insufficient to meet the power demands of the fighter’s sensors and electronics, with the F135 having been commissioned when the F-35 was still conceptualised as a much lighter and cheaper fighter with lower power demands closer to the size of its predecessor the F-16.

The engine has gained growing criticism over the past year, with its role being particularly critical for the US Military and for NATO more broadly as the F-35 is the only post fourth generation fighter in production outside China and Russia – and the only peer level challenger to the Chinese J-20 stealth fighter in terms of avionics, stealth and the integration of key next generation technologies.

The F-35 is relied on by the U.S. Air Force, Navy, Marines and the services of multiple allied states from Japan and South Korea to Israel and a fast growing number of European NATO members, with a lack of remotely comparable competition from other Western fighters ensuring a very large market share.

The F135’s outstandingly low availability rates and excessive maintenance needs have nevertheless continued to ground F-35s at six times the standard rate of other fighter classes, with Pentagon officials having highlighted issues with the F135’s power module as a key cause for the fighter’s low mission capable rates.

The Producers (1968) – Springtime for Hitler

When a good friend, from the Marine Corps, was K.I.A., his eldest brother cracked open the deceased’s apartment, before the funeral had taken place. My friend’s widow, also deployed, hadn’t even been notified, yet. By the time she knew of the situation, their home had been ransacked by nearly twenty members of two families.

I called the brother, and offered him an out, which he blew off. Over the next ten days, I contacted each of the offending parties; only two responded, and not favorably. Then, acting on the widow’s behalf, I hired an attorney and filed police reports. I went to the D.A., who filed 98 separate charges against all of the perpetrators, including the management and owners of the complex.

After sixteen months of legal crap, nine of the family members(one was an attorney, another a university economics professor) were convicted of misdemeanors, spent between thirty and sixty days in jail, and paid both restitution and fines of $500.00–6,000.00. The eldest brother, an electrician and small-business owner, now a felon, spent eight months in jail; the widow sued him and won a $450,000.00 settlement. The apartment complex ended up terminating the managers; and, they paid the widow $2.9M.

Not one of these people had been a criminal, prior to the incident. They were simply ignorant, greedy assholes, who deserved everything they got.

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main qimg 7cb3e90d8447de35c2be7b2d51225a37

Updates: The German embassy in China also manages its official Weibo account from the United States.

After learning that they had become the laughing stock on Chinese social media, both the EU delegation to China and the German embassy in China quietly switched their IP addresses back to Beijing.

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main qimg 189e84567fb2ef393e316a176a6000ef

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2023 06 06 19 34

Pennsylvania Dutch Chili

smallchili
smallchili

Ingredients

  • 1 pound homemade noodles or 1 (12 to 16 ounce) bag wide egg noodles
  • 1 can baked beans
  • 1 cup spaghetti sauce or less (or 1 small jar)
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 onion, chopped

Instructions

  1. Brown ground beef and onion.
  2. Cook and drain egg noodles.
  3. Combine everything. You may need additional sauce if you have leftovers and warm them up later. Chili should be thick, not soupy.
  4. Serve with crusty bread.

Nessie.

Let it be well understood that there is no hard and tangible proof that Nessie actually exists. Studies and efforts to discover this enigmatic creature has provided tantalizing glimpses of what might be a small colony of deep-dwelling marine crates that resemble a elasmosauros.

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main qimg e53d7e981cd00f2b8ad919477e4decf6

A plesiosaurus, while superficially similar to an elasmosauros, is much smaller, and does not fit the observed and photographs of this creature.

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main qimg 012407596cd8d211da0afc79220f85d9

Photographs of this creature taken underwater clearly show fin, neck and head structures that are in alignment with known anthropological evidence.

This is not the only instance of this creature surviving into contemporaneous history. From time to time, fishermen, and others have found, photographed, and even captured entire carcasses of this creature.

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main qimg 8da2774afc0a492a44ec67c84b43b17f

It is my personal belief that these are slow-moving bottom feeder creatures that inhabit the great depths of the ocean and enclosed seas. Over time, one day, absolute proof will be gathered that will end the mystery of Nessie once and for all, but until that happens, the interest in this OOPART borders on the “Science Fiction”.

NY Times admits they don’t like Chinese but they need Chinese talent to maintain the American hegemony.

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2023 06 06 19 36

The key word here is : DOOR-STEP

Door-step in this article means outside your property line. Not inside.

Let say I walk at your door-step. On the street which is a public area. I have not entered your property line.

I carry something that looks like a rifle to you. Bullet-proof vest & helmet.

I have a track record that I made trouble for other households in the society.

How will you react to my appearance at your door-step if it is daily?

Now …

replace “I” with “USA”. “my rifle” with “US warplanes/warships”. “me at your door-step” with “USA at the door-step of China”.

Remember I am outside your property line. Same for US warplanes/warships outside China’s borderline according to UNCLOS.

2, now replace “my daily” with “USA’s 1,200 times”

How will you react to my appearance at your door-step, daily?

If this is not DELIBERATE provocation & picking fights, what is it?

There is police/law to stop my malicious action towards you. If there is not, will you do everything to protect your family?

There is ICC & UN laws eg Non-Innocent Passage as I said in other articles. But ICC is believed to be “controlled” by USA. USA was not charged for war crime in the 2003 Iraq war.

Hence China must protect itself.

Now USA scolds CHINA BEING AGGRESSIVE ???

Only a bully or mafia is that unreasonable.

3, now replace “my freedom to walk on public street” with “US freedom of navigation”

Only a bully or mafia will turn the logic upside down & conveniently use Freedom as god.

It is this type of twisted logic that USA justified their action to instigate riots/coups/wars in the world 82 out of 100 times, since WW2. Causing millions of deaths & human suffering.

4, We must ask :

Why USA instigated riots/wars in Middle East for the past 20 years. OIL.

What about China? Rise of China that, in US words, threatens US status on world stage.

China works hard to better itself & thus achieves a lots. IMF said China contributes 30% of world GDP.

Am I not allowed to get A+ in my exam just because you get B- in yours?

Only sore losers have the type of mentality to contain others.

Search Quora for a question:

On 2023/6/3, a US destroyer & a Canadian cruiser sailed thru Taiwan strait. China warned them to leave but they did not. A Chinese warship sailed in front of the US destroyer & forced it to change direction. It was close to collision (137 meters apart). USA scolded China for dangerous sailing. China scolded USA for non-Innocent Passage. What is Innocent Passage under UNCLOS ?

I remember this situation when my children were little. I had two children in school. Grade three and grade two. The neighbour thought it was my children’s responsibility to take and protect her child to and from school. She said her child was the youngest, which she was not younger than my son. And she told my children that her child had to ride her bike in the center of the three children. My neighbour also told my children that they were not allowed to return home without her daughter.

I could not believe this when I heard my neighbour yelling all these rules to my children. I knew this would not last long as her child was a brat and the novelty of riding her bike would not last long. Right, as I was, after a week, this child cried to her mother and from then on, this child was driven to and from school. . . . However, my children were never offered a ride!

The only answer I can tell you is to be really bold like my neighbour was. Just tell your neighbour that it is not a convenient situation for you to be giving a ride to your child. Tell her straight that you do not want the responsibility of making sure her child gets home. It is a responsibility that is not yours and you no longer want to be giving rides to her child.

Explain to her that you enjoy having a good neighbour relationship, but anything to do with parenting and responsibilities has to remain within each home.

Be strong and whatever your neighbour says is not your problem. Know what you want for your children and your family. Fight for it.

There are outward signs, but there are very slight covert sneaky signs.

  1. They interrupt you quite a bit (they don’t care about what you’re saying or that you’re talking at all)
  2. They try to convince you of what you don’t believe – always wanting you to agree with them (in small ways they do this so they can go in for the kill on larger things later)
  3. As an addendum to #2, they try to convince you in random ways that you can’t think for yourself so they can later make you actually believe you cannot “human” on your own and you’re defective. Forget the fact that you’ve survived this long without even knowing them.
  4. They take your ideas and make them their own.
  5. They bait and switch you. They make you believe one thing in private, then do the opposite in public. They also will convince you to do something and then act like its the worst thing in the world after its done. For example, a husband finally convinces his wife to cut her hair short because she would look so sexy, chic, cute, fierce, all those adjectives. Maybe even that she’ll be his little Halle Berry kitten. Then in public or among friends, he’ll go on and on about how beautiful women are when they’re hair is long and how he looooooves long hair.
  6. They love bomb you. Anyone who flatters, says you’re they’re “soul-anything” right away or their “bestie” at an alarmingly fast rate, is setting you up for devalue. They love to put you on high so they can pull the rug from underneath you. Always remember flattery is dangerous. It’s akin to violence. Trust and believe that. And beware of the one who wants to know “all about you” and “I know you so well”, or “wow, You know me so well” before a natural passage of time.
  7. A person who doesn’t respect you will not take your No for an answer. They will question you, try to make you doubt yourself, and dismantle your sense of reasoning every time.
  8. They’re not interested in anything you’re interested in; on the flip side, they will feign interest to bate you in, and then show no lasting interest or no emotion. They shortly begin to act like they’re tolerating you or your interests, successes, etc. They also are not happy for you when you are happy about something.
  9. A person doesn’t respect you when they are short tempered with others but nice to you. Also, if you’re only good to be with in private but never in public, No respect for you.
  10. I’ll stop at 10 because the list goes on but over all the things, TRUST. YOUR. GUT. If your physiological responses are popping off in a negative way around this person, or you feel red flags, or just that something isn’t right….You’re right!

I hope this tiny little list has helped identify some of things you may possibly have experienced. There are things that we sometimes overlook in the spirit of being gracious or forgiving but the signs are there. We have to learn to manage them or we will end up all of a sudden like the guy who took a nap on a small raft- he eventually woke up and didn’t see land.

Stay awake and best to you

***Edit: Thanks to a commenter this list will be extended. By the time we’re adults, we all have observed or experienced some form of these things from the casual encounter with a stranger, to professional interactions, to that of our closest relationships. The things listed are meant to cover some of all of those kinds of relationships. So this might get a little deep but, here we go…

11. A person doesn’t respect you when you see or even detect that downward look, the roll of the eyes, that negative energy, or that smirk that communicates contempt. You don’t even have to be talking directly to them. You can see it from the corner of your eye- You are NOT imagining it. This is a real thing and they know you’re absorbing it.

12. They call you out without saying your name or reveal something very confidential in a public space (whether on social media or within a group of people). This is done without cause and whether this exposes you or not the point is, they know that YOU know they’re talking about YOU. Also, they will have you with them at public events and then actively ignore you. Provable only by you.

13. You tell them what hurts you and they use those very things to hurt you. They like to open up wounds.

14. They “collect” things you say to fire back at you at a later time, like ammunition. You get the sense that telling them things is unsafe even tho they welcome you to open up to them.

15. You have a strong feeling that there’s a hierarchy between you and them; them being superior and you being inferior/subordinate. When there is no employment situation, its disrespectful. (Even in employment, it can translate to subhuman treatment). But if this is a personal relationship its being done on purpose. They tend to find things you need help with or to make better. Sometimes they outright tell you that they want to mentor something in your life, or that they feel like your big brother/sister. Warning: they want you beneath them. In life, period; and they want you not trusting yourself.

16. They do not respect your boundaries. (addition to #7). For example: If you’re sick, somehow to them you’re not sick enough not to do the thing they want you to do or your level of illness is questionable to them when they want something. They have the overtone of making you feel better or cheering you up but really grooming you to do their bidding.

17. They do “nice” things for you as a deposit in the bank of “trust” so that they can get what they want out of you. Fake altruism.

18. They Do Not sincerely apologize.

19. They “joke” with you at your expense. Humiliating you. The same things they like you for, they hate you for. Disrespect on tap.

20. They rope in others to prove that you’re wrong about something that doesn’t merit right or wrong. Or to make you feel like you’re walking around looking and being foolish. In the meantime, they make you look defective to others. They will even get others to do their bidding and appeal to you; strengthening their claim that you’re just wrong.

21. They make a mountain out of a molehill when it comes to you. Always making things a right or wrong…fault or no fault, where there’s no merit for it. They make you feel like other people’s actions, the weather, a circumstance… is your fault too.

22. They make you feel obligated to cater to them. They don’t say it, but they clearly communicate it.

23. They do offenses with plausible deniability. For instance, they offend you in a way that if you complain about it, they can easily deny it. THEY know and YOU know they did it on purpose but its hard to prove. Anyway, its very damaging.

24. They give unsolicited advice. They use words like “why don’t you do..” and “you should…’

25. When they give unsolicited advice, they follow up to see if you’ve done it. Then treat you like you’ve committed a crime if you chose to do something else.

26. You are treated like the pet of a hot and cold owner; coddled and abused across the board.

27. They ask entrapping questions and double bind you; meaning they put you between a rock and a hard place- damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Numerous ways this can be done. Either way, your response or action will be wrong.

28. They create drama situations, vilifying you while they play the victim. They do NOT care about your discomfort, setting “standards” you can never reach and always raising the bar.

29. They will build you up to let you down. Telling you they will do something you’re depending on them to do and they have no intention of doing it all, while having you in wait and on hold.

30. They monopolize your time. They will insert themselves in your space if it serves them. They love to know your coming and going so they can influence what and when you do things. If you deviate, it throws them off and they WILL let you know it.

31. Silent treatment (plausibly deniable- but deserved its own place on this list).

32. You’re at the climax of a story and suddenly “wait, hold on…let me call you back” – or something of the sort. Something could legitimately come up but in this case its a trend that you notice. Not your imagination, not a coincidence. Even still, they can deny it. When you try to revisit it- the long deep inhale and hard loud exhale (Grrr).

33. You’ve worked hard on something your’e proud of or that they encouraged you to do and boom!- reaction of a corpse. Or they give the weakest of responses that actually speak loudly that they could care less; its nothing to them. Or they actually find a fault in it. Well how bout that?

34. They gaslight you, re-write history and have circular conversations where you cannot get your problem resolved. Then try to convince you that you are the one who cannot have a progressive conversation.

35. They say disrespectful things within earshot of you- but deny saying anything when you confront them.

36. They speak too low for you to hear them when you’re in personal quarters. Or they claim to have responded when they didn’t- saying you didn’t hear them.

37. When you ask them to clarify something they say “I just said it” or ‘I explained it to you”. And you’re to fend for yourself to figure it out. You’ll be wrong. They want it that way.

38. They twist your intent and badger you with noble things (rules, morals, principles)- when you’ve violated none of such things. Just a way to make you seem like you have because you haven’t given them their way.

39. They use their measure of “power” to sabotage your opportunities while flattering you for having those opportunities (keep in mind, flattery is akin to violence- its aggression).

40. They flat out tell you that ‘They don’t care’! Listen when they say this in any way, shape, or form that they say it. They’re having an honest moment with you. Don’t take it for granted. They mean it.

I’m interested in any additions to this list. It gets pretty intricate. But the heir of disrespect in so prevalent that it has become like the fabric of our everyday interactions, cloaked in normalcy. However, an ancient book does say that these days we live in are “critical times hard to deal with…men (people) will be lovers of themselves…haughty…unthankful, disloyal…not open to any agreement ” and so on. (2Tim. 3: 1–5 NWT)

Be kind, be on guard, and practice the Golden Rule. We all know how we want to be treated. Let’s extend that good treatment to others.

I wish the best to you all

Passport Bros Are WINNING With FILIPINA Women!

We are well on the way towards a new reality, and for many it WILL be a prosperous one

Still sick. Pretty nasty cold. Ugh.

As soon as my daughter got over one virus, another one hit, and of course…

I ended up getting both. Sigh.

What ever you do, stay away from sick people. All it takes is one inhalation.

Nice quote

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2023 06 03 18 56

NASA Administrator Bill Nelson

Seems like all of the American leadership these days are senile with dementia and should be in nursing homes.

2023 06 04 09 00
2023 06 04 09 00

Singa mengaum | Kung Fu Hustle

Chinese scientists have managed to improve the stability of CL-20, the world’s most powerful conventional explosive by a factor of 500%.

While extremely powerful, the use of CL-20 thus far has been limited because of its dangerous instability. Scientists from the Sichuan Military and Civilian Co-Innovation Centre for New Energetic Materials successfully developed new nanomaterials that greatly improved the stability of the explosive.

This opens the way for CL-20 to be used more extensively in applications such as rocket propellants that provide greater range for missiles, more powerful warheads and/or lighter and more compact missiles and bombs. The material also has lower observability when used as a missile propellant. CL-20 is also a key material used for increasing the range and reducing the size of ICBMS. Some analysts believe the recent Chinese war games that simulated hypersonic missile attacks on aircraft carriers assumed CL-20 warheads.

The origins of this material are a bit murky. In 1994 Professor Yu Yongzhong a Chinese explosives expert synthesised CL-20 for the first time in his lab and reported the discovery in Chinese scientific journals. A couple years after that, US military scientists reported discovery of the same material, but claimed they actually first synthesised it in 1987. Ironically, the “CL” stands for China Lake, the military facility where the American scientists worked.

The Terminator – Fat Boy – Harley-Davidson motorcycle

Yes. I went to a high school with a girl of Dutch extraction who did exactly this. It was hilarious in class one day because there was a girl there from Botswana and apparently they could communicate. We had this insane black history teacher who just started screaming at this girl for claiming she was African, and the girl from Botswana jumped to her defense(they were really good friends) and the teacher kept claiming white people weren’t African. Apparently the girl from Botswana started swearing and insulting the black teacher in whatever language these two spoke and the girl from South Africa was laughing hysterically after a few seconds. When I asked why later that day, it turns out that the girl from Botswana had said something like “you cotton pickers don’t know a thing about Africa or real Africans and so all you can do is pretend” later the two of them tried running for class office as the “African American” candidates.

United States Senator Diane Feinstein

She’s on a number of major policy committees and is one of the people handling America’s Geo-political posture. She comes, and represents California.

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AA1b4bnP

Iran, Saudi Arabia, UAE and Oman will form a joint navy to guarantee the security of Persian Gulf.

2023 06 03 12 07
2023 06 03 12 07

The Persian Gulf region produces nearly one third of the world’s oil and holds over half of the world’s crude oil reserves as well as a significant portion of the world’s natural gas reserves.

Iran has always called on the Persian Gulf countries to participate in establish security in this important region.

Al-Jadid Qatar news website reported that the consultations of Iran, Saudi Arabia, UAE and Oman have started with the coordination of China and with the aim of ensuring the safety of navigation in the Persian Gulf.

The US sphere of influence on Gulf states is wanning fast.

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2023 06 03 12 07w

In a few areas, actually. First is infrastructure. The Chinese planned waaaaaaaaaay ahead while building. That’s why there were ghost cities. The developers built huge communities before they were needed, knowing that large factories were coming soon. Above that is public transportation. Smaller cities have buses available that will take you just about everywhere within the city and bigger cities have subways as well as buses. For going between cities and provinces, China has a high speed rail system in place that is more extensive than the American highway system! For example: I lived in a city called Nanjing in China – about 200 miles/300 km from Shanghai. I could take a high speed train from Nanjing to Shanghai in about 1.5 hours!

In contrast, I took an Amtrak train from Detroit to Chicago (about 300 miles/480 km) and it took over 8 hours!

Another area China wins at is public utilities. They provide electricity, water, and gas for billions of people for very affordable prices! I paid maybe a total of $20 (US) per month for all utility bills, whereas it cost me over $100 in America! Atop of that is wireless technology (which is considered a public utility in China). I paid 100 rmb ($15) monthly for 16 GB of 4G data, with 1000 texts and 500 minutes of talk (which pretty much meant unlimited everything for me). In America I pay $50 a month for my unlimited plan. Yes, the 4G is a little faster, but that may just be because I’m not trying to access the foreign web here…

A third area (kinda related to the second) is how the CCP controls markets and prices so everyone can live a comfortable life. I ate a big plate of food at a small restaurant for between 10 and 20 rmb… ($1.25-2.50). The government controls the means of production, so there is plenty of food for everyone!

I hope you enjoyed my answer!

When you decouple, it is liked cutting off the umbilical cord. There is no more that relationship. That’s something that US cannot afford as they still need China now and into the future. There is one and only China, no other country can replace China for that effective and cost-efficient supply chain and that best-in-class manufacturing capability that is too good to miss. The Americans had lost that art of manufacturing decades ago and they can’t just take it back to revive their industries and to make it competitive again.

When you de-risk which is actually what the Americans are currently doing, they can be selective on which items that they can use to suppress China where they think it hurts most and to slow down their economic-military growth and technological development and in areas where they pose the biggest threat to the American hegemony. But de-risking has to be clean and precise, it can backfire and cause even more harm to the American economy which is happening now – American semiconductor companies and their Korean/Taiwanese/EU/Japanese allies are seeing a sharp fall in revenue and may eventually lose the lucrative Chinese market which is the world’s largest consumer of semiconductor chips today.

Current silicon wafer technology has reached its technological limits and it can’t advance much without suffering lower production yields, higher production cost and lower reliability performance. Not all electronic applications require these <7nm semiconductor chips but low-voltage/power and high-speed processing consumer products like mobile phones do. But consumer type products are not a life or death type application, countries can still live without having such advanced technologies if they aren’t allowed to have them. I am still happily using an iPhone XR phone today.

China has its own self-sufficient ecosystem and has a huge domestic market consumption of its own products and services. So they can still exist and live life as per normal. Of course, China is investing and developing the next generation of advanced technologies as in the case of semiconductor applications – photonics chips, graphene chips, quantum computing chips etc…. and they are already leading the world in some of these future disrupting technologies.

So what does it mean to China? Nothing much. China had been isolated and humiliated for a century before. They do know how to survive with all the global sanctions and restrictions. But the world cannot live without China today.

Antony Blinken has a way with words. However, it would be nice if he could actually back up those words. Thus far, Blinken’s tough guy antics have only gotten US special operators slaughtered.

The latest blow came on the night of Sunday, May 21st. That night, American special operators from Delta Force, the 75th Ranger Regiment and other NATO special operations units were staying at a workshop in the Yuzhmash ICBM factory in Dnipropetrovsk. They were forward deployed in preparation for the upcoming Ukrainian offensive. A Ranger Battalion and a squadron from Delta Force were tasked with spearheading an assault on the nuclear powerplant at Energodar in the opening hours of the upcoming, Ukrainian counteroffensive. They were waiting in the ICBM factory for their orders to move out.

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main qimg ec57333ce272b5959000f649759cd4cd lq

However, it looks like the Rangers will be unable to complete their mission. On the night of the 21st, Russian KH-22 cruise missiles slammed into the workshop, killing all of the Rangers as they slept. After action reports from US military intelligence described it as “a burial for the living.”

It looks like as a result of the strike, the Ukrainians have been forced to call off their assault on the Energodar plant. Furthermore, it looks like that night’s attacks and other pinpoint strikes against command posts and arms depots have rendered Ukraine’s counteroffensive stillborn. That might help explain the mysterious delays behind the bold, Ukrainian counteroffensive.

It would be nice for a Western audience if Blinken’s words rang true. However, if the Russians are able to take out about 1,000 of the US’s best special operators in a night with a pinpoint strike, clearly they are the better side.

Representative Frank (NY)

He’s been reelected over and over again to the office ever since the 1950s.

2023 06 04 09 13
2023 06 04 09 13

Official Statements:

Peskov: relations between Russia and Poland are now at zero, if not at a negative level

“We have a rich history with Poland in our relations. Now, unfortunately, these relations are at zero, if not at a negative level,” Peskov said

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main qimg 80b03bc76d76eeae2191c3bd6b916b20

Cranberry Fritters

2023 05 28 17 14
2023 05 28 17 14

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup fresh cranberries
  • 1 1/2 cups unbleached flour
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon milk
  • 1/4 cup dark brown sugar
  • Oil (for deep frying)
  • Confectioners’ sugar (optional)

Instructions

  1. Wash cranberries and dry on paper towels.
  2. Sift dry ingredients together and mix in milk gradually to form a stiff dough. With well-floured hands, pinch off 1 teaspoon of dough and make an indentation. Sprinkle a little brown sugar in the indentation and place a cranberry in the center. Roll dough around the berry. balls should be about the size of a large marble.
  3. Heat oil in a deep, heavy kettle until the temperature reaches 375 degrees F.
  4. Drop fritter balls into the hot fat and fry, turning, until they are deep golden brown on all sides. Drain on paper towels. If desired, shake confectioners’ sugar over the fritters just before serving.
  5. Serve hot.

This Mini Furniture Is Designed Just For Cats

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A campaign revealing mini furniture for cats is unveiled in Japan amid a new generation of craftsmen’s hopes to build upon a once-prosperous industry. The 60-second clip shows the feline friends-come-guinea pigs getting comfy on genuine furniture scaled down to their size.

The campaign, produced by Okawa City, hopes to promote the area in Fukuoka, a hub for professional craftsmen specialising in traditional crafts such as woodworking, hardware, glass and cutlery. The prefecture, which is is home to 150 furniture-manufacturing factories, once boasted a large industry for wedding furniture specifically made from Kiri, a light but strong japanese wood used for chests and boxes.

More info: Okawa City (h/t: designboom)

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Opening a cave and extracting a strange treasure with a metal detector

This is very interesting, but WTF did he find? What is it?

DM, can you identify?

By Aaron Good Published: Jun 01, 2023 08:03 PM

The war in Ukraine appears to be heading toward either a bloody stalemate or a successful Russian war of attrition. Against this backdrop, some argue that Washington’s worst geopolitical nightmare may come true due to the Ukraine war. To the extent this is true, and US elites have only themselves to blame. By all appearances, the US has entered a phase of decline when geopolitical gambits that are meant to forestall the end of imperial hegemony only hasten its demise.

When Russia launched the military operation in 2022, many on the left were surprised that Russia did it, as it did not seem to be in the Russian national interest to do so. There had been many alarms raised in the US warning of an impending Russian invasion. But after the Iraqi WMD and Russiagate hoaxes, it is easy to understand why many thought US officials and the corporate media were, as ever, lying.

One veteran journalist who clearly saw what was coming was Joe Lauria of Consortium News. This outlet was founded by the late Robert Parry, a legendary journalist who was forced to leave corporate media because his journalism routinely exposed the hypocrisy, duplicity, and criminality of US foreign policy.

In a February 4, 2022 article, Lauria wrote that, the US plans to weaken Russia by imposing punishing sanctions and bringing world condemnation on Moscow depend on Washington’s hysteria about a Russian invasion of Ukraine actually coming true.

There is a history of the US baiting adversaries into wars that the power elite believes will redound to the benefit of US hegemony. Such was the case when the USSR invaded Afghanistan in 1979 and when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990.

There is much reason to surmise that the US thought similarly about a Russian war against Ukraine. The strategic importance of Ukraine to Russia was well understood. After Russian military operations began, it was eventually reported that prior to February 2022, US officials had held a grim assessment of Ukraine’s chances in a war that Zelensky was apparently not trying to avoid. The Intercept wrote, “The Central Intelligence Agency was so pessimistic about Ukraine’s chances that officials told President Joe Biden and other policymakers that the best they could expect was that the remnants of Ukraine’s defeated forces would mount an insurgency, a guerrilla war against the Russian occupiers.”

Months before the war, Yahoo News, citing CIA insiders, reported that the US “is training an insurgency, [teaching the Ukrainians how] to kill Russians.” Echoing some of the darkest elements of the Cold War, the CIA had undertaken “stay-behind force training” in Ukraine.

In hindsight, we can discern that the US pursued NATO expansion into Ukraine knowing that this was a red line for Moscow – just as a Russian military alliance with Mexico would be unacceptable for the US. We now know that US officials had a grim assessment of Ukrainian chances in a war that the US understood was likely to result from Ukrainian statements and actions. We see that prior to the invasion, the US rebuffed Russian diplomacy aimed at defusing the crisis.

Rather, the US apparently wanted to use the war to damage Russia by getting the country mired in a long occupation and bloody insurgency. The US also sought to establish a sanctions regime that would cut Russia off from foreign trade, especially with Europe. This context helps explain why the US and UK scuttled peace talks that could have ended the war in Ukraine back in April of 2022.

Because the crackpot realists of the US power elite so badly misjudged the military, economic, and diplomatic aspects of the conflict in Ukraine, the war has served to accelerate the demise of US hegemony. As professional US imperialist Fiona Hill recently acknowledged, “The war in Ukraine is perhaps the event that makes the passing of pax Americana apparent to everyone.”

US leaders have only themselves to blame. The pursuit of open-ended global primacy was always madness. In decades past, US leaders tried and failed to turn the US away from empire. Now that the curtain is falling on US global hegemony, can new post-Biden leadership succeed where these men failed?

Native American Ravioli

2023 05 28 17 19
2023 05 28 17 19

Ingredients

  • 3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon vegetable oil

Instructions

  1. Pour the flour into a mound on a flat working surface. Make a depression in the center with your hand that almost reaches through to the board. Crack the eggs directly into the well and, with a fork, whip in the salt and oil, mixing the flour in from around the edges. Mix and knead the dough with your hands for 8 to 10 minutes, until the dough has a smooth and elastic consistency. If the dough seems a bit dry, add a little water; add a little more flour if it seems too moist.
  2. Once you have obtained the desired consistency, cover the dough with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for 15 minutes.
  3. Divide the dough into handsful and roll out each section to a very thin, even, almost translucent thickness. Use your imagination to cut the dough into any size or shape.

Any filling can be used to make the ravioli.

Blue Cornmeal Ravioli: Substitute a combination of 1 cup finely ground blue cornmeal and 1 1/2 cups flour for the flour in this recipe. Increase the number of eggs to 5.

“Our daughter is gone!” Abandoned French Palace with Tragic Story explored

IC chip wars

TSMC moves to America

Article HERE

TSMC can’t find the staff. But if you look deeper Western media already trying to come up with excuses for America’s impending failure to steal technology from one of their vassals.

Here is the real reason:

  • American education system has failed; American workers are too uneducated to compete.
  • America’s government is too corrupt at all levels to build any real infrastructure.
  • American society has outsourced its social safety net to rent-seeking middlemen. These leech productivity from society, actually productive industries, and workers. Making production in the USA unviable.

But it’s apparently the fault of the Chinese (RoC types are always labeled as Chinese when it’s convenient).

Why the Hunter Biden “laptop issue” is so significant

2023 06 04 06 58
2023 06 04 06 58

Is this a ‘Bot or for-real?

2023 06 04 09 17
2023 06 04 09 17

Velociraptors Long Grass

Persian Gulf States to Form Joint Navy in Coordination with China

When US lost the trade and technological war against China, and lost Ukraine war to Russia, the world no longer afraid of US because the “perceived US position of strength to force the world to obey” diminished. As a result, all the victims of the mafias suddenly and voluntarily joint china to endorsed the policy of mutual respect and win win. The crusader regimes will be down faster than imagination.
UAE withdraws from US-led Middle East Maritime Security Alliance | Al Mayadeen English
https://english.almayadeen.net/news/politics/uae-withdraws-from-us-led-middle-east-maritime-security-alli
Persian Gulf States to Form Joint Navy in Coordination with China | National Review
https://www.nationalreview.com/corner/persian-gulf-states-to-form-joint-navy-in-coordination-with-china/

Is this a ‘Bot or for-real?

2023 06 04 09 18
2023 06 04 09 18

Satanic Treasure 🔞 Where To Find The Hidden Treasure In The Old House of Satanists ❌ HUNTER

The world is catching on…

Well, Western media just going to write whatever BS, quote “anonymous sources”, publish rumors and innuendos, WHY do they even NEED to be at the meetings? Any meetings?

It seems the “meetings” would be a complete waste of time and money for the Western media folks. So, it’s only for their “human rights” that they do not be subjected to such “meetings”?

2023 06 04 09 22
2023 06 04 09 22

India, China, every BRICS and global south country needs to learn this.

Is this a ‘Bot of for-real?

2023 06 04 09 19
2023 06 04 09 19

Men In Black 3 (2012)

https://youtu.be/Rc507n76IaM

Stop Saying ’Sorry’ If You Want To Say ‘Thank You’: A Seriously Insightful Cartoon

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We often apologise assuming that people will appreciate our politeness and good manners. But in most cases, the other party is much more pleased to hear words of gratitude from you rather than an apology. Talented illustrator Yao Xiao, using everyday situations as inspiration, helps to explain why «thank you» is sometimes better than «I’m sorry» in this cartoon.

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Of course I can’t know for sure, but am encouraged by a video of George Galloway filmed last year in Belgrade by the remaining ruined buildings left by the US/NATO Winston-Smith-Memory-Holed bombing campaign against Serbia in which the Chinese Embassy was attacked. The former British MP said the world has changed since 1999 with BRICS outpacing the G7 and the Global South (the “world” that doesn’t exist on CNN, MSNBC, etc.) ditching the increasingly erratic US $: “Nobody’s going to bomb another Chinese Embassy now!”

Taiwan is beefing up its communications infrastructure to ensure that it remains connected to the rest of the world in case of any emergency. Cindy Wang reports on Bloomberg Television. (Source: Bloomberg)

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2023 06 04 14 25

China HUGE Breakthrough in Missile Chip Tech Amid US Chip Sanctions

https://youtu.be/6R3VG_BG4_I

Is this a ‘Bot or for-real?

2023 06 04 09 20
2023 06 04 09 20

We listed our house in 2016 during a red-hot sellers market. In the Pacific Northwest, houses were selling in 1–2 days. We were hoping to sell quickly because we’d just built another home and two mortgages would be a lot to handle.

When the house finally listed we had a full price offer of $275k on the first day and we were thrilled. We didn’t think twice about accepting it with only one contingency – a home inspection, which is common here. We arranged for the inspection which would take one week.

You know there’s often more to the story. *Image from CBS News.

We were a little concerned when the buyer asked to have an HVAC inspection using their own company instead of using the home inspector, but we gave our permission without asking why.

Their HVAC company did their inspection a few days before the previously-arranged home inspector was supposed to show up. We were presented with a quote for $15k to fix several problems: AC too small, gas fireplace won’t ignite, the furnace was not installed to building code, and the furnace didn’t work. The first words out of my mouth were “what the F?”.

Since it was springtime, we’d been running the AC and furnace on and off before showings so we knew they worked. We contacted the owner of our HVAC company who installed the furnace only three years before and he came out immediately to check on all these issues. We contacted the buyer’s realtor and we all went to our house to check out this mystery.

Our HVAC guy:

-measured the AC unit and determined it was sized properly for our home.

-the fireplace igniter was disassembled by “someone”. We put it together and it started right up.

-now the HVAC guy went into our crawl space where he confirmed the furnace was installed to code.

-we tested the furnace and it wouldn’t start. Our guy tested a few things and finally removed the steel face and found the igniter power wire had been unscrewed and the nut carefully set to the side for a quick reattach!

main qimg 0111caf4e6778c846fa9095c68264c86
main qimg 0111caf4e6778c846fa9095c68264c86

Not my furnace but you get the idea. A nut was carefully removed and wire pushed aside. *Image from Google images.

We’d been sabotaged.

With the buyer’s agent standing right there, I asked why her client had done such an obvious job of messing with the system. She quickly became very nervous and near tears but I had a feeling she wasn’t involved. In her nervousness, she started telling us that she’d visited at least 20 houses with these people and they’d made many lowball offers, always sticking to prices that were too low. We assumed they had made a plan to buy and then demand price concessions after “inspecting” the HVAC. They probably had a family member that worked there or arranged for a kickback. In my head I’ve made the plot much more sinister over the years.

I told my realtor we weren’t going to work with this buyer. No deal. We’d take the property off the market before selling and if they pressed us they would regret it as we had a lot of evidence that they’d tampered with our HVAC systems. They walked away with their earnest money (pun intended).

Since we had offers so quickly we increased the price by $10k and removed the “pending” status. After a few days we had an all cash offer which we accepted.

So, the silver lining … a learning experience! I’m happy we had a trustworthy realtor on our side. He said he’d never seen a situation like this one.

Abandoned: Europe’s Largest Underground Airport explored

China exports to South Korea is 0.7% of Chinese GDP, exports to Japan is 0.94% of Chinese GDP. Both are great trading partners but still relatively insignificant.

Every Rodney Dangerfield line from Caddyshack

Many Americans think that Donald Trump resembles Rodney in this video.

Back in the late 90’s I worked on a net caffe back in Venezuela, and among other things we provided tech service. One day a client called about a computer she had that ate diskettes.

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main qimg 193a80a6de729c90dd0634b900e5901a

These things for the younger folk.

So we asked her to bring it in, and I open it to see what’s up. She had a computer case that had a disketter opening, kinda like this one:

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main qimg 9a983a6b31ce947a509e261f5d2b84f3

but there was no diskette drive inside the hole, so she would push them and they’d fall into the case. There were 20 diskettes inside.

No more meetings, no more talks on the phone with chief Lloyd Austin

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main qimg 97b712b36fb93c44b74cc01e1e8a21fa

INTRODUCTION

Experiencing a series of vicious acts, violence and provocations as well as the general lack of trust, China has now decided not to answer phone calls from Lloyd Austin, chief of U.S. defense ministry.

Prospects for a renewed high-level military dialogue between China and the U.S. remain dim, with Beijing saying their defense chief will not hold a bilateral meeting while both are attending a weekend security conference in Singapore.

Closely monitoring the moods of the PLA and comparing the other Chinese departments with their U.S. counterparts, Beijing believes that the Defense Department under Lloyd Austin is the weak link in the United States.

Beijing is now deeply concerned that US and China are most likely to trigger conflicts between the two armies of the world’s largest superpowers.

Traditionally, China has always been faithful to their policy of peaceful and cooperative relations with the US, especially the military wing, believing that any armed conflict can trigger a war which is beyond calculation.

The Chinese leadership has decided to take a peaceful and preventive measure by sending the message unmistakably to the American side, hoping to forestall a future war that they believe is down the road.

The Chinese have an adamant sense of history: They have in their hearts reserved a special place for their American friends, and how much hate they have for their “foes”, the barbaric Imperial Japanese Army.

Today, the Chinese are still “fighting” these Japanese “foes”; the non-stop production and viewing can testify that they watch anti-Japanese war movies every day.

The message? China’s trying to avert any military conflict, but it’ll fight back if provoked.

FM spokesperson Mao Ning blamed the U.S…

Foreign Ministry spokesperson Mao Ning most recently blamed the U.S., saying Washington should “earnestly respect China’s sovereignty and security interests and concerns, immediately correct the wrongdoing, show sincerity, and create the necessary atmosphere and conditions between the two militaries.”

She gave no details, but tensions between the sides have spiked over and Washington’s military support and sales of defensive weapons to self-governing Taiwan, China’s assertions of sovereignty to the contested South China Sea and its flying of a suspected spy balloon over the U.S.

U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin is scheduled to address the Shangri-La Dialogue on Saturday, while Chinese Defense Minister Gen. Li Shangfu will speak at the gathering on Sunday.

Austin met previously with Li’s predecessor, Wei Fenghe, at last year’s Shangri-La Dialogue – which appeared to do little to smooth relations between the sides. In his address to the forum, Wei accused the U.S. of seeking to contain China’s development and threatening to assert its claims to Taiwan by military force.

China refused to take a phone call from Austin… insisting that communications on the military level have yet to show signs of improvement

Chinese leader Xi Jinping and U.S. President Joe Biden cordially met on the sidelines of the Group of 20 meeting of large economies last November in Indonesia. Unfortunately, contacts have proceeded only sporadically since then, with only side meetings on neutral territory.

Secretary of State Antony Blinken canceled a visit to Beijing in February after the U.S, shot down a Chinese “spy” balloon that had crossed the United States. He later met with the Communist Party’s senior foreign affairs adviser Wang Yi in Austria.

China refused to take a phone call from Austin to discuss the balloon issue, the Pentagon said. Always beset by mistrust and accusations, communications on the military level have yet to show signs of significant improvement.

Beijing was reportedly angered by Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen’s April stopover in the U.S. that included an encounter with House Speaker Kevin McCarthy. China’s PLA holds military exercises and sends fighter jets, drones and ships near the island “to advertise its threat to attack and wear down Taiwan defenses.’

Moreover, “China protests movements of U.S. Navy ships and aircraft through the Taiwan Strait and close to Chinese-held islands in the South China Sea, dispatching its own ships and planes and raising the possibility of confrontations or collisions.” (Source: MDT/AP)

CONCLUSION

Last century’s Sino-Japanese war might be over, but the aftermaths of horror of war – such as hard-feelings and the anti-Japanese sentiments are still here to haunt the nation.

Remarkably, Germany’s leaders did an excellent job in easing the pains inflicted by the atrocities of the Nazis. Remember the picture of Chancellor Willy Brandt kneeling before the million Jewish victims massacred?

Japan’s leaders have never done that; they have even erased this memory by white washing the “rape of Nanking”, a genocidal chapter in their bloody acts of atrocity.

Western anthropologists have observed that the Americans are reality bound, whereas the Chinese are past oriented in culture.

Some American leaders are mistaken as they perceive China as a “threat” to American national security. False!

Chinese students pose a “threat” to their American competitors; they are culturally and genetically prone to “academic achievements – a syndrome pushing them to succeed.” True!

The American public are manipulated by media to the point that they believe the Chinese president got carried away with the “no limits” friendship with Putin, who’s invading Ukraine. If one goes by the number of Chinese students attending colleges and universities in the U.S., the picture’s crystal clear. They prefer America to Russia.

If unprovoked, no Chinese has ever and would never think of harming the Americans, who are held high in regard as “professors of great learning”; the Chinese see themselves as “learners in apprenticeship”. Such perception has been around since the end of WWII.

The Chinese are happy to see their leaders getting along well with their American counterparts, Katherine Tai, the Secretary of Trade and Commerce, and Janet Yellen, the chief of finance, just to name a few.

The Chinese just can’t accept Lloyd Austin; they fear that he might “lead or mislead” the two nations to the tragedy of “sleepwalking” into war.

Noble Family disappears: Time Capsule Château left Abandoned

Today?

Today, this June 2023, China is the dominant nation in the world.

In every metric, China dominates.

Some metrics are obvious and astounding. Where it is obvious that China is the predominant nation in the world in that particular role.

  • Lifestyle for it’s citizenry.
  • Destruction of poverty.
  • Elimination of air pollution.
  • Manufacturing ability.
  • New technologies.

And so on and so forth.

It is no mistake that the rest of the world (well, the nations that are not proxies of the United States, that is) turn to China. They turn to China for trade. For economics. For science, and manufacturing. They turn to China for help and assistance. They turn to China for guidance, and direction.

They turn to China.

Now that being the truth, you have a multi-billion anti-china funded effort. This effort is designed to keep the American public, and the citizens of the proxy nations, ignorant of reality. Anything positive or neutral is withheld, and colored with outrageous lies. There’s no other way to describe the war propaganda; it’s untruths, and lies that are the direct opposite of the truth.

And if you, the reader are not aware of this, shame on you.

The rest of the world is turning into a multi-polar world based on individual national sovereignty, They no longer use American currency, follow and obey American laws, rules and conventions, and are distancing themselves from the insanity that has gripped the United States and dragging it downward.

There are exceptions.

A “color revolution” in Thailand, and South Korea has placed “puppet governments” in power. And the first things that these puppets do is pull their nations closer to the United States, and then engage in a war where many of their countrymen are killed.

It’s the United States method of Geo-Politics.

But, back to the question about China.

Do you know what the United States will look like in 2040? Do you know the projections? What are the economic, social, scientific, and cultural changes that will manifest int he United States in 2040?

Well, you don’t know.

Because there just isn’t any writings, projections, or videos about this subject. The United States has no plans for this far in the future. Instead the United States fully intends to “kick the can down the road” and let someone else deal with the various messes and problems that are sprouting up left and right everywhere.

RAND studies are looking at regional wars, and proxy war and color revolutions well into the next decade. But NOTHING about building the American domestic society. Nothing about the future of schools, society, and infrastructure. It’s almost as if those issues are not important.

But…

China knows.

China knows what the world will look like in 2040.

I see a prosperous China. Where China is a wealthy nation. Far wealthier than anything in Europe today.

I see a vibrant, and healthy Africa. Crime being eliminated, and social services expanding as industry does as well.

I see South America growing and modernizing. And like Africa, a strong middle class.

I see Chinese bases on the Moon, and the start of a Chinese colony on the surface of Mars.

I also see some amazing breakthroughs in national governance across the world where nations restructure their nations to be more efficient like China, and to punish the evil and greedy like China has.

Yes.

I see a bright future ahead.

And it is all starting today with the global leadership of China.

The Ukrainian Military Is In Bad Shape

Erik Kramer and Paul Schneider are two former U.S. special operations soldiers who have been in Ukraine since 2022 to train Ukrainian troops.

At War on the Rocks they paint a dark picture of the state of the Ukrainian military. Their intent is to get money for more training, thus the real picture may be less dark than they describe. But even if one takes that into account it is still a sad state for an army that has been at war for more than a year. Some excerpts:

Based on our nine months of training with all services of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, to include the Ground Forces (Army), Border Guard Service, National Guard, Naval Infantry (Marines), Special Operations Forces, and Territorial Defense Forces, we have observed a series of common trends: lack of mission command, effective training, and combined arms operations; ad hoc logistics and maintenance; and improper use of special operations forces. These trends have undermined Ukraine’s resistance and could hinder the success of the ongoing offensive.

What ongoing offensive?

Under mission command, the German Auftragstaktik, the leader disseminates his intent (“to attack through the northern woods to take town x”) and authority to subunits that is passed down with the mission to empower subordinates at all levels. Each subunits can make its plans to coordinate and execute the mission as best as possible. The contrast is an order command where every detail of execution is ordered from the top down. Both have advantages but to have a mixed system, as Ukraine currently has, is the worst of all places.

In our experience, across many units and staffs, the Ukrainian Armed Forces do not promote personal initiative and foster mutual trust or mission command. As Michael Kofman and Rob Lee recently discussed on the Russia Contingency podcast, elements of the Ukrainian Armed Forces have an old Soviet mentality that holds most decision-making at more senior levels. Amongst military leaders at the brigade level and below, our impression is that junior officers fear making mistakes.

But to use mission command down to the lower levels of a Platoon one needs noncommissioned officers (sergeants) to run the show. Those the Ukrainian military had are by now probably dead:

Having trained every component of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, we have continually seen a lack of an experienced noncommissioned officer corps. It is common to see field grade officers running around during training counting personnel and coordinating for meals. In the United States, it takes years to develop just a junior noncommissioned officer.

The next big lack is combined arms training and use. Tanks protect the infantry, the infantry protects the tanks, the artillery covers the battlefield to allow tanks and infantry to maneuver, command takes care that all three coordinate their actions.

The armor/infantry relationship is supposed to be symbiotic, but it is not. The result is that infantry will conduct frontal assaults or operate in urban areas without the protection and firepower of tanks. Also, artillery fires are not synchronized with maneuver. Most units do not talk directly to supporting artillery, so there is a delay in call for fire missions. We have been told that units will use runners to send fire missions to artillery batteries because of issues with communications.Most of the military’s operations are not phased and are sequential. Fires and maneuver, for example, are planned separately from infantry units — and infantry units plan separately from supporting artillery. This mentality also carries over to adjacent unit coordination, which is either nonexistent or rare and causes high rates of fratricide. Unit commanders have concerns about collaborators and thus are hesitant to pass on critical information that can be used against them to sister units.

These issues are compounded by unreliable communications between units and with senior leadership. The Ukrainian Armed Forces have a hodgepodge of radios that are vulnerable to jamming. Further, battalion missions are mainly independent company operations that do not focus on a main effort coupled with supporting efforts. The armed forces do not combine effects, so operations are piecemeal and disjointed. The separate missions are not supporting each other, nor are the missions of lower level units “nested” under a higher level mission. Sustainment is not synchronized with operations, either.

Due to the wild mix of weapons and for lack of trained mechanics logistics and the maintenance of equipment are a mess.

This lack of coordinated maintenance and logistics also translates into medical care. Medical evacuation and care are haphazard. Experienced Ukrainian combat medics have repeatedly stated that many of the evacuees would have survived it they had reached definitive care in a timely manner. The Ukrainian Armed Forces can solve this issue with a systematic logistics process.

Ukrainian special forces are mostly used as infantry even as they should be used for more demanding missions. There also are gimmick missions:

Ukraine special forces units comprised of international volunteers shop around their services to conventional unit commanders without a mission being tied to a strategic or operational goal. One example of a mission was a conventional brigade commander who had reported to his command that he had occupied a village taken from the Russians. When he realized that the information he had was mistaken and they had stopped short, he asked the international special operations forces unit to go into the occupied village and take a picture of a Ukrainian flag placed on top of a building in the center of the village.

A suicide mission to hide the commanders false reporting …

The authors claim that most of the above problems could be fixed by more ‘western’ training which they are more than willing to sell. However, what has become of the last armies ‘western’ forces have trained in Iraq and Afghanistan? Both fell apart. An army must reflect the local society and culture. It can not be formed top down by outside forces.

Since 2015 the Ukrainian army has been build up and trained by U.S. and British forces. What the WotR authors describe is the result of that.

Posted by b on June 3, 2023 at 17:01 UTC | Permalink

Inside This Secret Masonic Crypt will Shock You! (R$E)

China is scaring America in several ways:

  1. China is about to overtake America as the world’s largest economy, probably by 2028.
  2. China and BRICS are creating alternative reserve currencies to the US Dollar. China is accelerating global de-dollarization.
  3. China is surpassing America technologically in most fields. In space exploration, China landed on the far side of the moon, China landed a rover on Mars, China built the Tiangong space station. China leads in 5G/6G. I could go on and on and on.
  4. China is gaining substantial diplomatic credibility and influence around the world. BRI, BRICS, RCEP, SCO…these things keep US officials up at night. China recently brokered the Saudi-Iran peace deal.
  5. China is modernizing its military with amazing military tech. Hypersonic missiles. J-20 and J-35. Type 003 Fujian with EMALS. Powerful destroyers and nuclear attack submarines. I could go on and on and on.
  6. China’s extraordinary manufacturing capacity means that China could outlast the USA in any war. Building ships, planes, tanks…you name it.
  7. China is such a crucial part of America’s supply chains, including military supply chains, China could strangle the United States.

US politicians are shitting their pants.

NATO INVADING SERBIA!!!!!

NATO will officially be invading Serbia, a non-E.U. European country even after protest by Belgrade.

A Staunch Chinese ally in the region.

“Wokeness” is the new COINTELPRO. Pink fascism is the du jour variety

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2023 06 04 08 52

Dr. Strangelove: Check List

Mysteries and wonders

The United States is in the “acute” stage. The end of the nation is in sight now.

A certainty.

I lived in Japan for two years, and lost a ton of weight. I drank a lot of alcohol, ate whatever food was convenient, and never consciously exercised. I lived upstairs from a Genkizushi sushi shop, and across the street from Chuuka Ton-Ton with excellent ramen and surprisingly large Jumbo Bikkuri Gyoza.

I had a car, but walked and took public transportation because it was more convenient.

After two years of Japanese life, my BMI was 19, just on the underweight side of healthy.

I now live in an American suburb. I track my diet and exercise on apps. I have a home gym with weights, a Peloton exercise bike, and VR boxing subscriptions. I have another gym at work.

My BMI is 29, overweight bordering on obese.

I’ve thought about the reasons for this. Why did I get thin without trying in Japan, then get fat while trying to stay thin in the USA? If you were trying to design the perfect obesogenic society to make people fat, you would do two things:

  1. Subsidize low-nutrient foods with a lot of calories, like corn.
  2. Use fear, zoning restrictions and tax laws to keep people away from sidewalks, parks, and “the gym of life.”

America does both of these things. Due to the peculiar way Americans select presidents, Iowa has outsized political influence. Iowa also grows a lot of corn, so it’s not surprising that American agricultural policy favors corn. Modern varieties of corn, and especially those varieties processed into corn syrup, have calories but not much else.

If your body tells you to eat until it senses that you have enough Vitamin C, and you eat mostly corn, you’ll consume a lot of calories and still be hungry. If your tongue tells you to eat until it has tasted enough, you’ll have a lot of corn syrup.

On the other hand, traditional Japanese restaurants serve small amounts of carbs (rice or noodles) intensely flavored with small amounts of high quality protein and fat (fish in sushi or pork slices in ramen).

Japanese cuisine is quality over quantity, while common American food is the opposite. It’s easier to stop eating after a few bites of intensely flavored carb/fat/protein medley than a few bites of bland fat-free sweetened engineered food.

At the same time, American zoning laws encourage large residential areas with no commercial areas nearby. Where there are commercial areas, there are huge parking lots which are unpleasant to walk through. Parking spaces occupy the area that a sensible construction would use for walking paths.

Japan is the opposite.

There are plenty of walking paths and pedestrian-only areas. Mixed zoning with stores on the first floor and residential units above are common, and possible without requirements for a parking space per bedroom or restaurant table. Parking and highway tolls in Japan are expensive, so people are encouraged to walk and take public transportation.

Finally, American media encourages people to be afraid. Afraid of kids getting abducted while walking to school, so they are driven instead.

Afraid of the neighbors calling the police because your kids are outside, so kids play inside instead.

Afraid of crime on public transportation, so everyone drives instead.

Afraid of ticks and mosquitoes and sunburns and nature so everyone stays inside and watches screens instead. Japan has giant swallow hornets (so called because the hornets are as large as a small bird like a swallow) that kill dozens of hikers a year, but nobody stays out of the mountains because of them.

It’s possible to live a healthy lifestyle in America if you constantly invest time and effort. It’s easy to live a healthy lifestyle in Japan by just being lazy; being unhealthy requires extra work.

1). The Micron chips have many backdoor which have been threatening the international security.

2). China has been mass producing the world most advanced chips one generation ahead of the chips produced by Micron.

3). The Chinese made chips have prevented the US from stealing all over the world.

China has been protecting the world peace, stability, prosperity, national security and the international rules based world order and law.

School Shooters Reacting To Life Sentence

Qin Gang meets Elon Musk. telling him developing Sino-U.S. ties is like driving car

Chinese Foreign Minister Qin Gang met with Tesla CEO Elon Musk in Beijing on May 30 to discuss the development of the country’s car industry and China-U.S. relations.

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2023 05 31 10 38

Qin stressed the importance of a healthy, stable and constructive China-U.S. relationship, saying:

“Developing China-U.S. relations is like driving a car. The driver needs to keep the steering wheel in the right direction, step on the brake when necessary to avoid danger and press the throttle at times to accelerate.”

Musk stated that the Chinese people are diligent and intelligent, and China’s “development achievements are well deserved.” He emphasized Tesla’s stance against “decoupling and breaking the chain,” saying the company will continue to expand business in China and share China’s development opportunities.

Rules Based International Order literally means;

“The United States makes the rules that the world must follow”.

Most Americans, and United States proxy nations, strongly advocate global governance using this governance directive. As both have publicly stated on many venues their preference, and demands, that it be obeyed.

However, the majority of the world, outside of the United States led order, prefer a United Nations governed world. The United Nations governing directive is different. It is called a “multi-polar world”.

A Multi-polar world order is defined as;

“All nations are sovereign, and serve their own interests.”

INTEL: Institutional Kitchens Being Warned “Have Food Stored for 10 Day Disruption in Supply Chain”

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2023 05 31 08 40

Institutions like Hospitals, jails, prisons, etc., were told, casually, three weeks ago, they “should probably have enough food on-hand to get through a ten day disruption of supply chains.”   Few thought much of that.   Then today . . .

. . . they are being explicitly WARNED to “make sure you have enough food to get through a ten day supply chain outage.

The warnings are coming down from vendors and now, from GOVERNMENT.  It’s not a suggestion anymore, it is a mandate.  They’re being told “Do this; make sure it’s done.”

Hospitals and institutions like prisons, jails, and the like, have populations that cannot simply go elsewhere and find food; so them HAVING the food would be essential if someone knows there is definitely a major disruption to supply chains coming.

Now, on its face, there is nothing going on at the moment that might even give rise to a HINT of supply chain disruption, never mind specifically for ten days, unless . . .

The NATO Exercise in Europe from June 12-24, near the Ukraine conflict, goes “hot” and there is some type of massive exchange with Russia, as reported today, HERE.

If the powers-that-be (TPTB) already KNOW there is going to be some type of wild-weasel situation between NATO and Russia, then it would be in the interests of TPTB to cover their butts and make certain their institutions have food supplies in advance.

Common sense tells us that these institutions wouldn’t be getting this warning — NATIONWIDE IN THE U.S. — unless this “supply chain disruption” was, in fact, going to affect the entire nation.   What else but a big exchange between NATO and Russia could affect the entire nation?

If government is now telling Hospitals and other institutions to MAKE SURE they have enough food to get through a ten day supply chain disruption, then maybe you and I should take heed and make sure we have food too?

In fact, seems to me we should make sure we have a lot more than ten days supply.

Of course, we only have so much space to store our food, and only have so much money we can throw at that project without knowing better details, but I strongly recommend my readers of this web site take heed and take action.

NOW.  While you still can . . .

18-Year-Old Gets Busted, Decides to Put Up a Fight

Pennsylvania Dutch Banana Bread

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img 4565

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 1 1/2 cups unbleached regular flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 cup soft margarine
  • 3/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/3 cup oil
  • 2 cups mashed ripe bananas
  • 1 cup chopped nuts (optional)
  • Dash of cinnamon (optional)
  • Dash of nutmeg (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cream sugar and margarine; add eggs and mix well.
  2. Stir in baking soda, baking powder and salt.
  3. Add oil and stir again.
  4. Add bananas and mix.
  5. Add flour, 1 cup at a time, and stir well after each addition.
  6. Grease and flour 4 to 5 bread tins.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 hour. Test for doneness with wooden pick until it comes out clean.
  8. When cool, wrap in plastic.

Loaves may be frozen.

An analysis of how China is building a global economic alternative, while the US-led neoliberal financial order decays.

By Radhika Desai , Michael Hudson and Mick Dunford

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Transcript

RADHIKA DESAI: Hello and welcome to the 10th Geopolitical Economy Hour , the fortnightly show in which we discuss the political and geopolitical economy of our times. I’m Radhika Desai.

MICHAEL HUDSON: And I’m Michael Hudson.

RADHIKA DESAI: And as last time, we have once again with us today, Professor Mick Dunford, professor emeritus at Sussex University and visiting scholar at the Chinese Academy of Sciences.

Mick is based in Beijing and his work focuses on world development, especially in Eurasia and China. And as you know from the last episode, Mick is here to help us discuss the political and geopolitical economy of the conflict over Ukraine.

Last time we discussed the political and geopolitical economy of the conflict vis-a-vis Ukraine, Russia, and Europe. And in this episode, we would like to discuss the same thing, but in relation to the United States, China, and the rest of the world.

So I’ll maybe just start us off on the US by essentially pointing out that, when people do take a critical view of what’s going on and look at the economic aspects of the war, the main thing they focus on is the arms industry and the profits being made by the arms industry.

And there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that American arms manufacturers, the military-industrial complex in the United States, is absolutely jubilant over this war. They are making profits hand over fist.

Not only are arms orders going to increase as a direct result of the conflict with the United States supplying arms to Ukraine and then seeking to replenish its stock of arms. So that was already happening.

And in the last US budget, as you saw, the military budget was massively increased, because in addition to the conflict over Ukraine, it is generally believed, or it was the grounds were given, that in fact, we can now expect ever greater conflict, ever greater security, uncertainty, and therefore more money needs to be spent on arms.

So there’s absolutely no doubt that this is what’s going on.

And there’s also absolutely no doubt that the sort of industries that we were talking about in the last episode, industries that rely on the enforcement of intellectual property rights, etc., are also happy about the conflict over Ukraine, because it’s really about imposing Western and US imperialism on the rest of the world, which includes, of course, the enforcement of intellectual property rights.

So they are happy. But it is also very clear that there are sections of US business that are not particularly happy about the conflict that relied on trade, both certainly with China, but also with Russia.

And they look at the prospect of breaking these relations with increasing apprehension. So there are divisions within the United States as well.

MICHAEL HUDSON: Well, we ended the last episode by talking about how neoliberalism is basically a rentier economy.

And the point that you just raised Radhika is, if the US is a neoliberal rentier economy, and if Europe is following the US lead, how on earth can the West expect to keep pace with Eurasia and the global majority that is now trying to industrialize and raise its own living standards, and in fact is forced to industrialize and raise its own living standards by the US sanctioning of their economy, which is forcing them to go it alone?

Well, a lot of pacifists and opponents of the Ukraine war in the United States, like Medea Benjamin, have said that — Well, there’s really nothing to worry about China. We don’t have to be an enemy of China because other countries are bound to grow. And of course, the United States will lose its relative position as other countries begin to grow also.

— And we can have a happily growing world economy together and American absolute power and absolute economic strength can continue to increase. We don’t need war.

Well, I think, Radhika, you’re in our position as, yes, they do need war, absolutely, because the United States is declining in absolute terms, because what it calls GDP is largely financial services.

As we’ve said before on this show, when banks increase their late fees to credit card holders, and late fees are now over a trillion dollars, more than credit card companies get in interest, all that is added to GDP.

When American real estate prices have been going up in the last few months of the year, the homeowners’ imputed value of their homes, if they were to rent their homes to themselves, has been going up, increasing GDP. That’s 7% of GDP.

So what we call GDP here is really a rentier economy that is polarizing between the finance, insurance, and real estate (FIRE) sector and the rest of the economy.

Well, the fact is that the US actually cannot catch up with the productivity that Mick’s chart has shown with China and Russia, because we’ve reached the limit to the growth.

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main qimg 2c523b116b93ba67b748423b5f30530e

And the limit to the US growth right now is not yet environmental, is not yet global warming. When there is hurricane damage, all that rebuilding is considered an increase in GDP. It’s not environmental pollution. It’s debt pollution.

It’s the fact that the economy is so highly indebted that the wage earners cannot afford to increase their consumption as long as they’ve had to increase their mortgage debt, their credit card debt, and their auto debt.

The US has reached the limit of its ability to grow without essentially doing a mixed economy and a debt write-down. And somehow you’ve got to free the economy from the rentier sector, from the savers, that their savings are the debts of the 99%.

And you have the US and NATO increase in military spending, forcing cutbacks in social programs in order to get the balanced budget that the Republicans are advocating and that President Biden has long advocated.

So what you’re having is the US simply is not growing, and the only way that it can somehow survive by letting the 1% increase its wealth at the rate at which it’s accustomed to is what you mentioned, Radhika, intellectual property.

By monopolizing information technology, by monopolizing pharmaceuticals, by monopolizing technologies and military industrial weapons and charging huge economic rents, far in excess of the value of the cost of production, in order to get a free lunch.

The only way that the United States can grow is by increasing the free lunch, and that means economic shrinkage for the economy as a whole. That’s what really underlies the splitting of the world that we’re seeing that is just beginning with the Ukraine fighting.

MICK DUNFORD: Okay, I mean, Radhika mentioned the important point that the military-industrial complex accounts for a significant share of the US economy, and emphasized the way it generates profits for US capital.

But it’s also quite important to note that the products of the military-industrial complex do not enter into subsequent accumulation in the way in which other capital goods do, nor do they enter into workers’ consumption.

So in a sense, there’s a way in which a vast military-industrial complex is devoting a huge volume of resources to activities that do not contribute significantly to human welfare.

The point I want to make, however, is that this US global role requires a huge volume of resources. And the US essentially spends much more than it earns – much, much more than it earns.

Now, this is a [graph] that just depicts the balance of payments of the Five Eyes. So the United States, but also Great Britain, figure prominently in shaping these numbers [along with Australia, Canada, and New Zealand].

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And what’s very, very striking, first of all, is that these countries have very substantial trade deficits in real commodities. So they are very dependent upon real goods manufactured in other parts of the world, a sustained, large trade deficit.

At present, they generally have surpluses in services, because, in part, of the role of the US dollar and of other European currencies in the international financial system, and the way in which insurance and all sorts of other activities are connected with that role.

But of course, there are roles that depend on the continuing role of the dollar in the international system. But really, to offset this gap between what these countries can sell abroad by way of goods and services and their own imports of goods and services, they require a large net inflow of financial resources.

And these financial resources derive from a number of different sources. They derive in part from the fact that the United States produces dollars and other countries have to hold dollars in order to finance their international trade activities.

So they do not use these dollars in order to purchase goods in return from the United States, for example.

They also arise because surplus countries use their surpluses to purchase US Treasury bills at very low rates of interest. So that provides the US with a debt privilege that no other country in the world possesses.

Extraordinarily, Alan Greenspan said “the United States can pay any debt it has because we can always print money ”.

The US also imposes or seeks to impose a kind of opening up of markets, privatization, so that it can use dollars to acquire assets throughout the world to generate income streams that can offset its trade deficit.

So in a sense it benefits enormously from a post-Bretton Woods system, which effectively allows the United States to behave as if it has a credit card with no repayment date and no limit on what it spends.

But it is a world which is changing. And I think it’s a change that poses an enormous challenge for the United States.

RADHIKA DESAI: Right. So, first of all, Mick, this is absolutely critical. And of course, as you likely know, these privileges that you have rightly pointed to, which the US has hitherto enjoyed, are also in danger of disappearing with the process of de-dollarization, something that Michael and I have explored in great detail over four programs.

But this is an absolutely critical point that needs to be made, is that in the context of the war, I mean, this is the thing: One of the ironies of this war, which I noted almost at the beginning, is that when the only means you have to achieve such a certain goal – in the US case to keep its position in the world, to keep the dollar the world’s money, et cetera – when the only means you have to achieve these goals are the very means that are actually going to undermine the achievement of these goals, you have a serious problem.

That’s the situation that the United States is in. So absolutely, I completely agree with that.

I should also add, of course, that this debt ceiling drama is really quite interesting, and we don’t know how it will be resolved.

But the two things about it that I think worth noting, number one, the very fact that this drama is occurring at all, underlines the deep political divisions in the United States, which are the result exactly of following the policies that the US has followed, the neoliberal policies, the financialization policies that it has followed over the last many decades.

This has resulted in a level of political dysfunction, which we are witness to today. That’s the first point. In a certain sense this political division may become economically quite meaningful at some point.

Secondly, I’d like to say that no matter how this death ceiling drama is resolved, Alan Greenspan’s idea that somehow the United States can continue to issue debt until kingdom come is completely wrong.

The fact of the matter is that the treasury market, the market for treasuries is already in trouble. The treasury market is not as liquid as it used to be.

That is to say that the treasuries being issued by the United States government in order to finance its debt, do not find as many willing buyers as in the past, which is why the Federal Reserve has to keep buying treasuries at a great rate of knots.

That is why its balance sheet has swelled to the extent that it has.

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And if the United States does – you know, one of the ideas to break this debt ceiling knot, to cut the Gordian knot here, has been that the United States can simply issue a whole lot of money – this is going to lead to a further rapid acceleration of the de-dollarization process, which is in fact then going to land the US into a lot of trouble.

The US is already suffering from inflation, which is already a mark of the fact that its imperial power is declining. Because, at the end of the day, why is the US suffering from inflation? Because its ability to compel the rest of the world to sell goods and services to it for nothing is declining.

That’s why inflation has returned to the United States. So in these ways, I mean, the points you make about financialization and the kind of economy the US has are very important.

The solution to that, as Michael and I have observed at various occasions in this, because it’s such an important truth that it needs underlining, the solution to that will have to be a fundamental root-and-branch reform of the financial system, to reorient it away from predation and speculation, which is what it does today, towards productive investment, something it has really not done in decades, if that.

So a complete transformation of what we can also call bank-industry relations.

But I want to also shift, I want to also add another point, which I think is a very important one, which is, I’m sure I’m not the only one who said this.

The United States has never seen a war it doesn’t like, because the United States has over the last many decades, in fact, the United States has become as dominant as it has in the world, essentially by exploiting wars between other powers.

In the Second World War, in the First World War, the United States economy expanded massively while the economies of other countries were being destroyed, essentially because the United States was keeping those wars going by supplying arms and materiel to all sides, basically.

So the United States has always benefited from wars, and it is continuing to benefit from wars. And that is partly why the era of American dominance that we have witnessed over the past many decades has been an era of unending wars.

MICHAEL HUDSON: We’ve spent quite a few shows talking about the US balance of payments and what is America’s foreign debt.

This is a topic that’s not taught in economics courses or political courses, and it’s one of the most confusing topics to most people. How did America run up this foreign debt, and why do other countries keep their savings in the United States?

Well, until the last two years, China, Saudi Arabia, and other countries held very strong savings in the United States, because after all, it’s an open capital market, and because they needed the US dollars in order to pay for the oil that they bought, for the copper.

The US dollar was how all of the world’s commodity markets worked, from oil, to raw materials, to manufacturers.

Well, one result, the United States just basically committed suicide for the US dollar standard by grabbing, first of all, Venezuela’s gold, saying Venezuela didn’t elect the president we want; we appointed them to please give all of the gold in the Bank of England to Mr. [Juan] Guaidó.

And secondly, the grabbing of Russia’s foreign exchange in Europe and America, anywhere from $30 billion to $300 billion. So now the US is not a safe country.

But more importantly, why on earth would anybody hold US dollars to pay for oil if Saudi Arabia now pays for its Russian oil in rubles, and Saudi Arabia now pays for its imports from China with a Chinese RMB?

Now that world trade is multipolarizing, now that countries are paying for their trade and investment with each other in their own currencies, there is no need for the dollar.

So yes, the United States can print all of the dollars it wants, but it can’t produce the goods and services, which is the whole reason that people hold dollars.

The US debt is so much larger than the amount to pay that the United States is technically insolvent. The United States as a whole is just like Silicon Valley Bank and the banks that have just gone under

. There’s no way that the United States can or has any intention of paying the foreign debt.

The United States, following Greenspan, says —We are never going to redeem our debt. You can hold your money here, but just like a Ponzi scheme, and just like Silicon Valley Bank, you can all think of this dollar holding as being worth something, until you actually try to sell it.

— You try to sell it, then you’re going to find out that it’s all the savings that you’ve accumulated since 1945, since World War II ended 75 years ago. All of this is fictitious capital. And you’re just waking up to the fact of reality economics.

Other countries are finally realizing this. By splitting the world financially, this is the lever, like cutting a diamond. This is the key split that is basically splitting the whole world economy on financial terms.

This is the one topic that you cannot discuss in the major media here, and you cannot even raise in economics courses in the United States, because the answer is so terrifying to advocates of US hegemony.

MICK DUNFORD: I wonder about the speech that [US National Security Advisor Jake] Sullivan gave

[in April], when he said that globalization, privatization, deregulation, trade liberalization had failed, he said, because a non-market economy – namely China, he calls it a non-market economy – was part of the “liberal international order”.

He said the idea that markets lead growth is wrong. He said there was an overemphasis on finance. He said that the real industry, real sector was hollowed out. He said that there was a decline in public investment.

He said that the policy of spend first failed. He said that trickle-down failed. He spoke about some process through which the erosion of the working class eroded the middle class. And then of course he advocates blockading China.

But it, in a sense, represents a quite considerable sort of reversal within the United States. And I wonder how Radhika and Michael see this speech. I mean, it’s also of course important to ask just how much support it actually has amongst elites in the United States and the political class.

RADHIKA DESAI: Yeah, I mean this is a very important question. And I’ve argued in my [book] Capitalism, Coronavirus and War: A Geopolitical Economy

, which came out just at the end of last year, because this sort of talk was already beginning to happen at the time I was writing it.

And so I’ve dealt with this matter. So here’s my position.

Essentially, obviously, the mounting contradictions of neoliberalism inevitably mean that people will be talking about what’s wrong with it and so on. And certainly this talk is going on. So there are two possibilities.

Number one, just because neoliberalism is failing doesn’t mean that they’re going to give it up, because neoliberalism has never been about markets; it has always been about favoring the corporate capitalist classes.

And the nature of the US state is not going to change overnight. So what’s going to happen is that, the first option is that people will say these sorts of things: we have to do finance differently. You know, Mariana Mazzucato says we have to do capitalism differently.

So they will find a way of doing corporate capitalism differently. And so they will say we have to do a little bit more of this and a little bit less of that, or even a lot more of this and a lot less of that.

But in reality, the underlying structure will not change. The corporate capital will continue to be favored in a different way, in new forms, because the old forms no longer work. The old forms have led to financial crises and so on. So that’s the first option.

But there is also, thanks to the very divisions that have been created, the political divisions that have been created by neoliberalism, there is also another option, which is that someone like Trump, Trump himself might come back to power.

And then we are going to see a much more authoritarian version, much more – I mean, this other version, option number one, is dystopian enough, but an even more dystopian option will be seen.

So I think those are the two options. I mean, unless there is some kind of a radical revolution, you are not going to displace the corporate capital that has the reins of the US state in its hands, and that drives that.

So I think that corporate capital is either going to drive the US state to destruction, or it may be replaced by something even worse. So that’s what I think.

But Michael, please respond to Mick’s question.

MICHAEL HUDSON: I’m in agreement with what both of you said. Neoliberalism really, in trickle-down theory, has been amazingly successful in polarizing the economy.

The aim of the 1% is to have all of the economic surplus, leaving nothing for the rest. Just as the aim of neoliberal foreign policy is to get the whole world surplus in one country, and leave nothing for the rest. That’s the implicit dynamic.

The trick, and what makes academic economics fictitious economics, and more like science fiction than like science, is the pretense that somehow benefiting the 1% benefits the 99%.

Unless you realize that rent income, monopoly rent, land rent, natural resource rent, is a transfer payment that has nothing to do with earned income – we’re back to the classical economics of Adam Smith, Ricardo, John Stuart Mill, and Marx – then you’re not going to realize that what seems to be a growing economy is an economy that is shrinking as a result of all of the economic surplus being sucked upward, not by profits, but by rent-seeking, by monopoly rents, by exploitation of almost a pre-capitalist form.

So we are dealing with the fact that you don’t have the kind of industrial capitalism in America or Europe that you had in the 19th century. You have a regression to a kind of neo-feudal, rentier economy of inherited privilege, and oligarchy, not democracy.

And we’ve talked enough about that in earlier programs that all we have to do is remind [our audience] that this is the context for what we’re talking about with Ukraine and Russia, and the US and China, and the rest of the world today.

RADHIKA DESAI: No, and you know, so to sum up on this question, I forgot to add one other thing, which is that, of course, as we’ve already talked about before in the last episode, there’s increasing talk about industrial policy on both sides of the Atlantic.

But given the neoliberal orientation of these governments, that is to say the corporate orientation of these governments, essentially what will be labeled industrial policy will be stuck onto a new raft of programs and policies through which states are going to provide support to big corporations, including massive subsidies.

But I also, before we go on to talk about China, I also wanted to make a couple of other points about the United States in the context of this war.

One is that you always read these statistics about the astronomical sums that the United States spends on its military. You know, it’s more than the next X number of states combined. And all of these things are true.

But what’s remarkable is that after all this spending, what has the United States got to show for it? It’s got to show for it a series of military failures: Korea, Vietnam, all the 21st century wars, you name it.

And I think that the war in Ukraine, which is of course a proxy war, the United States is not fighting it itself because, quite frankly, I don’t think the American public has the stomach to fight wars anymore. And this is going to be a major issue in the election.

But nevertheless, even the United States is also going to face defeat in this war. The whole optics are being managed around the so-called spring offensive in such a way that the United States can at some point say, okay, we’ve done all we can; the Ukrainians have done all we can, but this war cannot be won.

And they will shift their attention elsewhere, especially given that an election campaign is coming and Biden is not very popular, nor is the war very popular.

More and more Americans are asking: Why are we spending all this money on wars when we have so much need at home?

So that’s really an important thing to watch for is how the war will play out in this campaign.

MICHAEL HUDSON: I can’t add anything to that.

RADHIKA DESAI: Yeah, that’s good. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t sort of jumping onto the next one.

Why don’t actually, I ask Mick, you are our resident China expert. So why don’t you start us off on China?

MICK DUNFORD: Okay, I’ll just say something more generally about China, first of all. I mean, the first thing I would say is that in 2017, China entered a new era.

That era was actually foreshadowed by what started to happen around the turn of the millennium. So China has in a sense embarked on a new phase in its development and its transition, if you like, to socialism.

So this new phase follows two very broad ones. It follows a turbulent phase of socialist construction after 1949, which occurred in the context of United States embargoes, in the context subsequently of a conflict with the Soviet Union, and in a context of acute capital shortage.

And of course as a country that came from behind, China had to address its capital shortage, not in the way in which the imperial and colonial countries had done so, basically by appropriating resources from other parts of the world, but it had to generate those resources internally, or initially, of course, with the help of Soviet loans and Soviet industrial assistance.

Then, after the rapprochement with the United States, which of course occurred in order to increasingly isolate the Soviet Union, China embarked on a path that actually it planned before 1949, but it was unable to follow that path simply because of the way in which it was isolated by the actions of the United States and the Western world.

So it entered on a path; it called it reform and opening up. And that occurred in a context of neoliberal globalization. Its roots in China lay in the early 1970s.

As soon as the embargo started to be lifted, Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, started to acquire loans abroad in order to finance industries producing consumer goods along coastal areas.

That then led to this phase of reform and opening up in which China managed its integration into the global order, generating these extraordinary rates of growth.

The thing that I would emphasize, first of all, is that it was driven by sustained high rates of capital accumulation right the way through. Of course, it fluctuated a lot in the first 30 years, but you’ve got sustained high rates of capital formation.

I would say you should describe China as a sort of planned, rational, socialist state – which uses, after reform and opening up, market instruments.

A planned, rational state because it basically sets social and economic objectives that are essentially designed to progressively improve the living standards of all the Chinese people. And then it acts in order to achieve these goals that it has set itself.

I think that it’s important to say that, throughout this set of phases, what you see are a whole succession of successive waves of reform and transformation of economic structures and of institutions. And all of these changes are basically designed to address crises and contradictions that emerge in the course of its development.

What’s interesting is that in a sense, an attempt to avoid the dynastic cycle, the rise and fall of dynasties. In other words, you address the contradictions at each stage through processes of reform, which enable you to move forward progressively on a path whose endpoint is socialism, communism.

But that lies a very, very long way into the future.

The important thing about this new era, as far as China’s concerned, is that basically, it’s mapping out a new development path. And it’s a development path that will differ very significantly from the Western path.

It explicitly argues that this path differs from that that is being pursued by the West.

It’s a path that is people-centered and not capital-centered. There’s one profound difference between a socialist country and a capitalist country.

In a sense, politics, right, including China’s whole process democracy, is in a sense in command and sets the objectives and targets. And it’s basically directed at improving the quality of lives of all the Chinese people.

But one way of trying to capture it is to say that there’s a whole series of new concepts that are being talked about. So this kind of notion of dual circulation, in which the domestic and overseas sectors reinforce each other, but where the domestic mark is the sort of mainstay of economic growth.

The emphasis, I mean, really since 2013, has been on high-quality development rather than on rapid growth. On scientific and technological innovation, technological upgrading, developing the technologies of the next industrial revolution and then trying to ensure that those technologies diffuse rapidly in order to improve the livelihoods of people.

It’s sustainable green development. I mean, anyone who lives in China will have seen already extraordinary improvements in the quality of the environment. Really, really quite remarkable.

So the idea is green development, rural revitalization, a world in which perhaps a relatively large share of the population continues to live and work in the countryside. It involves spiritual civilization, which is a response to the consequences of liberalization, of consumerism, of selfishness.

So, I mean, this is quite interesting because Wang Huning, who’s one of the current leadership wrote a book after he visited America in the 1980s called America Against America, in which he actually identified the way in which trends in American society were leading in the direction of isolation, fragmentation, disintegration.

And in a sense, this concern with spiritual civilization is really concerned to guarantee and ensure sort of social cohesion.

It involves concern with strategic security and stability and very important common prosperity. So this notion of common prosperity is, in a sense, one of the key drivers of Chinese development.

So in a sense, it’s mapping out a kind of development trajectory that differs very, very radically from the development trajectory of countries that embarked on neoliberal paths.

And then, I mean, we can talk more about that when we talk about the world, but at the same time, it’s trying to contribute to the emergence of a new world order, you know, a global civilization, with shared prosperity in the world.

So I think what is important to me is it’s setting out a kind of model for the creation of a rather different kind of world as well as for a different kind of China.

And when you look at all the problems in other countries it’s, in a sense, a very positive vision. But it reflects this capacity to set social and economic goals.

RADHIKA DESAI: Yeah, I’m very glad you started it off this way, because what you’ve done is you sort of laid the foundation for a picture that is becoming increasingly clear, in which, of course, for the West and for, obviously, for obvious reasons, for Ukraine, this is a huge and deep crisis.

But the fact of the matter is, as far as China is concerned, for the war, the conflict over Ukraine is really a small part of a much larger picture, which is largely composed of its peaceful rise, of its anti-imperialism.

I’d also like to emphasize something that you said and slightly elaborate on it.

You said China had to overcome its lack of capital, thanks to imperialism. So I would say in order to understand the development of China and also understand what every Third World country faces today, you have to understand that the development process in these countries will have to be very different from the West.

Why? Because number one, Western development itself set them back in the first place, thanks to imperialism, colonialism, et cetera, so that they had to start from a much worse place to begin with.

Number two, they have to complete the process. They have to undertake the process of development without having the luxury of imperialism.

I think you, as you rightly said, that you cannot source your capital from elsewhere. You cannot plunder India in order to finance the industrialisation of Europe and the United States and the settler colonies and so on. You can’t do that.

So you have to generate your own capital in order to do that. And you have to generate all your resources to do that.

And number three, you have to do it against the unremitting resistance of the imperialist powers. In all of these ways, the development of China is very, very different and it’s bound to be very different.

And I’ll come back to that when we come back to talking about the rest of the world as well. But for the rest, I just want to say a couple of things.

Number one, I think that the West really dreams that it’s going to be able to drive a wedge between China and Russia.

But I think China understands, no matter what criticisms it may have of Russia’s actions privately, but China understands that the Western aggression is primarily responsible for this war and there’s absolutely no way that giving into it is going to benefit anybody.

So this is the real source of China’s support for Russia. It’s not being partial to Russia. It just understands things in a much bigger way. So China can be expected to continue supporting Russia.

And of course, the fact that it now has a cheap source of energy is not going to go amiss at all. But I think between them, I think China is, of course, in the lead, but they are pioneering a new world order, which is essentially about a model of development, which is absolutely a model of development which is absolutely the opposite of neoliberalism.

So yeah, I’ll just say that for now and leave it there because I’m sure Michael has lots to say as well.

MICHAEL HUDSON: Well, what’s unique about what China’s doing internationally is it’s made no attempt at all to proselytize its economic system.

What is its economic model? It’s interesting you’ve used that term. It hasn’t said it. It doesn’t say, we have an economic model that’s an alternative to neoliberalism. Here is how we are redesigning our national income accounts to show what we’re doing, as Soviet Russia had a different set of national income accounts.

It’s not really explaining a different economic doctrine to what is taught in the United States schools. And in fact, Chinese students are sent to the United States to study economics. And once they return to China, I’m told they’re given priority over Chinese students.

And there really isn’t any economic teaching of a model even within China.

And a few weeks ago, President Xi’s speech at the Party Congress talked all about what the overall aims were, world peace, a growing economy, the aims that Mick has mentioned.

But there was no analytic content of: — How are we going to get there? What is our tax policy going to be? How are we going to finance the local government budgets that are now financed by selling off land to real estate developers?

— How are we going to handle our land issue, the financial issue? What are the virtues of what we’ve done is keeping money as a public utility in the hands of government, not privatizing it, not turning money into a financial commodity.

— How do we avoid turning land into a financial commodity? How do we avoid turning labor into a commodity, but treat the objective as raising labor?

There’s been no kind of economic model to teach an alternative. And in fact, there’s very little discussion in China of the history of economic thought apart from Marx.

So I don’t think that if we’re talking about where is all this going to end, I don’t think there can be a multilateral order without some kind of a explicit economic doctrine that finds its counterpart in a mirroring set of institutions built along socialist lines as alternative to the World Bank, to the International Monetary Fund.

We’ve mentioned the International Criminal Court. We’ve mentioned basically a whole different United Nations with: What are economic rights of countries? What are the kinds of growth that we want to do? This is what’s basic.

I won’t talk about China’s foreign policy yet. I’ll throw it back to you guys, but it’s unique that China hasn’t spelled out what it’s going to do.

The only thing that we have that China might say is: Well, how are we going to respond to the sanctions?

It said that if Ms. Baerbock’s projected sanctions on Chinese trade are imposed, there will be retaliation, but it hasn’t said anything about how it’s going to retaliate and what are the principles of retaliation against America’s economic war against China.

For instance, it could impose sanctions on European countries that are importing U.S. products that could be used for the war of Ukraine.

Suppose that China were to mirror the U.S. sanctions policy, starting with tanks and missiles or oil and gas, food.

Imagine if China and Russia, backed by the global majority, somehow could mirror American sanctions and say, — Okay, you’re not going to trade with us except for key things that you want. We’re not going to trade with you. We’re going to go it alone.

Well, if China, Russia, and the global majority go it alone, which is where we’re moving towards, what are the principles going to be to create economic institutions like their own trade organization, their own central bank, to finance all this?

There’s been no discussion of this and not even a proselytizing of economic ideology that ultimately is the framework for all of this alternative.

MICK DUNFORD: I think I would just emphasize this idea that certain goals are set.

For example, you might set a goal concerned with rural regeneration. That means that certain resources are mobilized.

It’s an attempt, if you like, to mobilize the human, financial, and material resources of particular localities in order to generate income streams that improves the living standards, quality of life in different places.

Some of these things generate certain vulnerabilities. You can illustrate it by looking at what particular things have happened in particular places.

A particular locality with a traditional culture had resources from government to rebuild people’s homes, adding on guest rooms, and then this village then becomes a place which is used for seminars and workshops. It generates an income stream through acting as a kind of a center for visitors.

In that context, you see quite significant increases in local income. It’s mobilizing the environment, it’s mobilizing the infrastructural assets that have been put in in order to enable people to establish sustainable livelihoods.

In some cases, it confronts difficulties because, for example, in the pandemic, it had enormous negative impact upon travel of all kinds and so negatively impacted the incomes of people who are involved in that kind of project.

You see these things going on at a grassroots level all over China. In relation to the industrial issues, we’re talking about restrictions on semiconductors.

Of course, China is launching a whole series of major industrial policies that are basically designed to develop these capabilities, to ensure that China is able to develop these capabilities and does not find itself in a situation again where it cannot acquire what it needs because someone refuses to sell it to them.

I don’t see it through economic theory. I see it through an attempt to achieve certain kinds of targets and then developing projects, mobilizing resources for those projects, and then evaluating how they work.

If they work well in one place, you might copy those ideas in other places. It works in a very different way from many of the things that you actually see in the Western world. I’m not sure how one would easily theorize it.

If I were to talk about the whole of China’s experience, I’d probably not do it in terms of those transitions to a market economy.

Actually, I think what happened there was that you saw a very significant decentralization of initiative in a situation in which the central government lacked resources for a whole series of reasons, in part because it had to repay debts.

It decided to let local initiative rip, in a way, which is what happened with the household responsibility system or with the establishment of township and village enterprises and so on.

RADHIKA DESAI: What you say, Mick, is very interesting. I never thought we would end up discussing this, but this is very interesting. Let me say two things very quickly.

Number one, I think Mick, you’re absolutely right. I think what the Chinese have done right from the beginning is that they have actually been, essentially, like you say, how do you prevent this cycle of the rise and fall of dynasties? How does the party remain in power?

It remains in power by addressing concrete problems as they emerge concretely with whatever resources that may be available at that time. In that sense, there is not a model to be proselytized about.

China has also been extremely careful internationally, partly because it wishes to distance itself on this matter anyway from the Soviet experience. It says, — We are not exporting any model. There is no Chinese model, et cetera. I think that there is also a point to that.

But there is another side to it, which is if you think about it, what is the purpose of neoclassical economics? What is the purpose of all this economic theory?

It is the purpose of the dominant trend in economics is actually to get countries to open themselves up to the West. The purpose of economic theory is actually imperialism.

So in that sense, of course, China is not going to produce any direct counterpart to that because China does not intend to be imperialist.

And I would say that a lot of people also point out that the abstractness of the theories of neoclassical economics are contrasted with the concreteness of the theories, such as that of the developmental state, which is different in different parts of the world, which have been very concretely based on the particular situation and the resources at hand, whether it is a developmental state in Japan or South Korea or elsewhere.

So in that sense, I do not think that there is going to be a model. And having said that, I think that the thing is that the critique of neoclassical economics and the critique of the Western model and of Western imperialism is certainly sharpening in China as we speak, I think.

MICHAEL HUDSON: Well, there may not be a model, but there should be economic concepts. To me, the main concept is economic rent, the distinction between earned and unearned income.

There has to be a model of international payments. It’s obvious, as we’ve spoken about before, that some countries are going to end up with claims on other countries.

China, how will China be remunerated for the expense of its Belt and Road Initiative? How will all this be settled? There has to be some kind of accounting system for all of this.

An accounting system basically uses economic categories. And so we don’t need a whole model of the economy, but we do need some basic concepts that are the building blocks of China’s pragmatic experimentation that it’s following.

MICK DUNFORD: There are economic concepts that you can use. I mean, in relation to this idea of common prosperity they talk about the role of the primary, the secondary and the tertiary distribution of income.

And the idea is that in a socialist country, everyone should contribute, everyone should work. So this kind of primary distribution of income, the income that you derive from the work that you do, plays a very, very fundamental role.

But of course, at present, there’s a lot of development of a whole series of services, which obviously are financed in part through contributions, but in part also through taxation, in terms of health, education and so on.

Then you’ve also got mechanisms, these so-called tertiary distribution, that’s what they call a situation where, for example, companies undertake socially useful initiatives in other parts of China, or where you have cooperation between local governments in one part of China, which are expected to actually mount projects in other parts of China.

And if you like, places that have become relatively rich help those places that have not become relatively rich.

So those concepts are used and I mean, you were talking about the international side in terms of the international side, obviously they have balance of payments accounts so they examine the balance of payments.

When they built Belt and Road projects involving investment finance, that involves interest, it involves repayment arrangements and so on, usually on terms that are less onerous than those of international, if they have a multinational, of the multilateral banks, and also of Western financial resources.

When they opened up, their capital account was not opened. So I mean, these categories do play a role. And the non-opening of the capital account had a very great deal to do with China’s development path, because it actually had impacts on the exchange rate, and therefore on the competitiveness of Chinese exports.

You can use economic concepts to discuss some of these things, but there’s nothing equivalent to the kind of neoclassical theory of markets that you can apply to the Chinese case.

I know that it’s taught in China as well as in the United States and in Europe, but I tend to see things much more in kind of a more practical way of moving moving things forward in terms of moving up the value chain, improving people’s livelihoods, improving the quality of the environment, improving air quality, all sorts of things of that kind they’re very, very concrete many things are trying to achieve are very, very concrete.

RADHIKA DESAI: That’s I mean, in a certain sense, that makes sense. Because after all, what is socialism, it’s use-value production. Use-values are very concrete, they are not abstract, as value is, or what was often called exchange-value. I just call it value.

But anyway, maybe we should, we’ve been going for nearly a little over 50 minutes now. And so I think we should transition to our last topic, which is what’s going on in the rest of the world.

And I have to say, compared with the optimism that existed in the much of the 2010s, we talk about rising multi polarity and rising BRICS, and so on, the rest of the world is not doing as well as China.

And I think that at the same time, I think that another thing is very clear, which is that if the rest of the world wants to do better, say, for example, President Lula in Brazil, then he is going to have to implement policies that are make a clean break with the Washington consensus, with neoliberalism, and at least learn from China.

There is no model, there’s no Chinese model, but sort of learn about how the Chinese essentially created development in their context and take tips for that, because essentially, the rest of the world is actually suffering from obviously high prices.

Many countries are facing a debt crisis. There’s also a lot of political uncertainty in many parts of the world, thanks to the current war, the destabilization of existing arrangements.

But I think underlying all this is the decline of the West, whose chief cause is neoliberalism.

I think if the rest of the world is to learn anything from this and climb out of the crisis and build a better economic model, etc, it will have to be in some kind of anti-neoliberal kind of socialist or quasi socialist manner.

And here, I have to say that, one, I’m originally from India, I study India, and I have to say for the last several years, things have looked very depressing with the present government in power, which is really a fascist government in power, making nonsense of the rule of law, allowing its goons to prosecute whoever it likes, and making an absolute mess of the economy.

Indian economic growth has been actually extremely weak, even though the government has cooked up statistics to show that it is somehow good.

But just a day or two ago, there was a really bright light in this rather dim scenario. And that was that in the Indian state of Karnataka, there was an election, which the Congress won, and it won the election by promising a people-centered set of policies.

And I think if the Congress and other opposition parties can understand what this means and stick to it, I think that it will be able to bring India out of this mess.

Of course, in Brazil, we have President Lula, but South Africa is also not in a very good state, it is in a state of perpetual economic crisis.

But I think in the context of the decline of the West, the awful consequences of the neoliberal model, and the rise of China, I think that the world should be able to learn from this contrasting fate of the West and China.

MICHAEL HUDSON: Well, what’s blocking the rest of the world from moving away from neoliberalism?

Lula last week proposed that China, Argentina and Brazil should have a common currency? Well, how can you have an alternative to the dollar or a common currency when you have an immense dollar debt?

What’s blocking other countries right now from creating an alternative that is more of mixed economy with a public sector dominant and ending rentiers is the fact that this dollar debt is forcing these countries to submit to the International Monetary Fund, which is the neoliberal hammer, forcing privatization, forcing anti-labor policies, all the things that we’ve described before.

And the only way that other countries can pursue an alternative to the trap that they’re in, the only way they can escape from this trap is to repudiate the dollar debt and say, — Look, we’ve been led into a trap that has financially killed as many people as a military occupation.

Just like President Putin had said that more Russians died as a result of the privatizations of neoliberal policies of the 1990s than died in World War II, you can say that the Third World finance is how the neoliberals are locking other countries into the U.S.-centered diplomacy.

And the only way that countries can break from this U.S.-centered diplomacy and the sanctions and the U.S. control of the world coordinating organizations is to create a new set of coordinating organizations, which requires really withdrawing ultimately from what you call Western civilization.

And I agree with you. It’s a civilizational problem. So this is the basic fight for what will the next millennium look like.

And it can’t be done without an explicit break. There’s a Chinese proverb, “Whoever tries to go two roads at once will get a broken hip joint.”

Well, that’s the problem that they face. You can go beyond just the U.S. and China and say, what about Syria and the U.S. presence in the Near East right now that the U.S. is holding?

It’s been told to leave Iraq, and it hasn’t left Iraq. The U.S. military presence over the rest of the world is doing everything it can to prevent other countries from following the alternative. And it’s in fact militarized neoliberalism.

That’s really the problem that we have today. And Mr. Blinken said just last week that there is a kind of just and durable peace, but it can’t ratify what Russia has done, that America will fight not only against Russia and China until everything, all of the Russian assimilations of Crimea, of Luhansk and Donetsk are all reversed and things go back to the way they were before.

That’s the neoliberal dream, going back to the way it was before to prevent any change going forward. That really is the final statement of neoliberalism. There cannot be any escape. There is no alternative.

There cannot be any escape from dollar diplomacy and the world institutions that we control. That’s what the rest of the world is facing.

MICK DUNFORD: I think I want to just present a more positive view about some of the things that I mean, I realize, I agree absolutely.

I mean, that is a problem, especially ever since the 1980s, especially. I mean, it’s a trap, which many countries have simply not managed to escape. And it’s a trap that’s extremely difficult to escape.

But this is simply a chart that looks at the share of world output of agricultural products, of manufacturing goods, of energy, raw materials. And then it also gives a share of GDP and the share of the population.

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main qimg e5c5c543a1a6c8e34b6bab1842108354

So the share of the GDP is in black. So you can see that’s relatively low. But these are the so-called BRI countries. And you can see that they account for 60% of the world population.

But if you look at their contribution to the world production of energy of the kind of materials, raw materials that are needed, if you look at their contribution to the production of manufacturers, if you look at their contribution to the production of food, you see a sustained increase.

If you look at the BRICS, you get a similar story. If you look at the SCO, the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, you get a similar story. If you look at RESAP, you see a similar story.

There are deep difficulties, not least because of the conflict in Ukraine, but also because of the deepening debt crisis, because of the impact of the conflict in Ukraine on the availability of energy, on the availability of food especially, of course, in emerging countries.

So there are serious, serious difficulties. And yet some parts of the world are making progress. That should be a message of hope beyond the neoliberal order dominated by the collective West.

The parts of the world that colonized the rest of the world largely after a series of Chinese inventions like watertight compartments in ships, gun powders, magnetic compass, printing. They arrive in Europe, and Europe uses those Chinese inventions to put guns on ships and dominate the world.

I think there is also a vision of a different type of world system centered around a series of civilization states.

And while there are enormous challenges I think, if you look at what’s going on in the world, you can see stories that offer us a certain amount of hope.

Many of these are associated with what is happening in Asia and Russia is orientating itself towards Asia and will also make an enormous contribution to the development of what will hopefully, beyond these disasters through which we’re living, what will hopefully start to look like a better world.

So I think we need this kind of positive vision of a way forward as well as identifying the problems of crises that we confront.

That’s one of the reasons why I spoke about China in the way I did, because it’s an attempt to move in the direction of collective prosperity, in other words, because it’s only an upper middle income country at the moment.

It may be the largest economy in the world, but it’s a middle income country. And so there’s a long way to go in improving the livelihoods of Chinese people, and indeed, of course, of people in other parts of the world.

So that’s one of the things I would want to say.

RADHIKA DESAI: Well maybe if it’s okay with you, we should draw this to a close now, because we’re kind of nearly done.

So let me just then bring this to a close by saying that a mixed graph that he just showed, also tells us why the neoliberal system and the dollar system have to be rejected. Because the difference between the value or the fact that the GDP is very low, but their actual production is very high, is very simple.

The dollar system relies on systematically undervaluing the currencies, and therefore the labor and the products of the rest of the world, which is why you see this discrepancy between how much is produced and what the GDP is.

So I think that also, so as far as the rest of the world is concerned, what we are saying is that the road for the rest of the world is very clear.

It is away from the West, towards China, Asia, away from the Washington consensus, towards whatever locally adaptable forms of socialism are possible. That’s the way in which things have to go.

And one of the things that the neoliberal West has also done, by the way, is, which is going to affect the rest of the world very badly, and the rest of the world needs to take an initiative to deal with it, is that, of course, in the present context, the war has become an excuse to essentially abandon all efforts to reach any climate goals.

And again, China is an example of how to deal with emissions and generally ecological issues.

So meanwhile, global warming is reaching a point where it is seriously affecting labor as well as agricultural productivity in many parts of the world.

So the urgency of moving away from the West and from Western neoliberalism and Western imperialism has never been greater.

So I think with that, I’d just like to thank you all for listening. Thanks to Mick Dunford for joining us on this amazing show, which Mick’s contribution made so excellent, I think.

And of course, thanks as usual to Paul Graham, our videographer. So thank you again and see you next time. Bye bye.

It means that the Chinese are not fools. The United States sanctioned the Chinese defense chief, and if they would meet, that would be in violation of the sanctions.

Who knows what other “dirty tricks” the Biden administration has “up its sleeve”?

But also, and most importantly, nothing productive would come out of the meeting. The United States has proven itself to be two-faced, fork-tongued, lying, scheming, manipulating bastards that have only one goal which is to belittle, and ultimately destroy China.

Top 10 Most DANGEROUS Hells Angels In History

So many of these stupid questions. And the answers are equally stupid, filled with anti-China ignorance, and an amazing array of pro-America bravado. Like this…

As others have pointed out, Russian and Chinese armies are mass conscript armies, with large numbers of often unwilling conscripts given minimal training for a short period of service. While most Western armies are now professional armies made up of willing volunteers who serve for a number of years and therefore can be trained to a much higher level.

Sounds so reasonable, but absolutely FALSE.

Chinese military is a professional volunteer military. It is around 500,000 pure volunteer troops, of which at least 210,000 are combat soldiers. This is compared to the United States which has 50,000 combat troops globally.

The Chinese military is above peer-capable in many areas, and use a different style of fighting and military doctrine than the United States uses.

One must remember that EVERYONE in China gets military training, starting in first grade. And it continues throughout their life.

So to say that China’s military is just “conscripts” that are untrained, and undisciplined, and a mass conscript army is blatantly and absolutely false.

Here’s the bottom line.

You all want to sail over to China and “start shooting ’em slant-eyed commies”… go ahead. See what happens.

The point of this response is not to point out China is good, or the USA is good, or bad or whatever. It is to answer the question. Comparatively, how does Russia or China compare to NATO and the United States?

I say let’s find out.

Are you all up to have a DF-41 rammed up the ass of your home city? Because that is exactly what China is going to do. China does not play games.

These Female Cartel Bosses Are SCARY. Here’s Why…

https://youtu.be/8qrY5xScqL8

Moscow Under Ukraine Drone Attack

At least eight (8) military drones operated on behalf of Ukraine, have attacked Moscow, Russia this morning (Tuesday) with most being either hit with Electronic Warfare or shot down by PANTSIR-S air defense systems.

Several houses in the south-west of Moscow were damaged. There were no civilian casualties.

 

Eight aircraft-type drones were involved in the attack. All Ukrainian drones were hit.

Three of them were suppressed by electronic warfare, lost control and deviated from their intended targets.

A further five drones were shot down by the Pantsir-S surface-to-air missile system in the Moscow region.

 

The US is a very contradictory country, or to be more accurate: the principle of US politics is very contradictory.

On one hand, the US wants every country to be democratic, so that none of them can be united as one and against the US. It means that if the ruling party doesn’t obey, just raise the opposition party. Same thing happened for countless times, Juan Gerardo Guaidó Márquez is one of them.

On the other hand, the US wants a dictator in every other country, so that it could have total control over them by controling the ruler.

The US wants other countries to be both open and isolated at the same time. So that the US capital can enter them to invest and harvest, while people in those countries wouldn’t notice what’s going on.


White people used to just exploit Africa by purchasing primary prodcuts with very low prices. Most of the income from the business would go to the pockets of the agents of the west, i.e. the dictators and their lackeys.

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main qimg b9757071082e5745b2ceea8c1257bb20

Jean-Bédel Bokassa, supported by France, was a brutal and heartless dictator in Central Africa Republic. This photo was taken during his ceromony coronation, because he wanted to turn the country into an empire and be an emperor, because he worshipped Napoleon.

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main qimg 6af9d0a364abf7450d1b8898a6c6d9a9

Reza Pahlavi, dictator of Iran. During his dynasty, the upper class of Iran was “open and free”. Photos takend during Pahlavi dynasty usually been used as the proof of superiority of democracy nowadays, eventhough he was a dictator and only the upper class in Iran was free and open.

Ironically, he was overthrown because the US thought that he wasn’t democratic enough, and abandoned him in the revolution.

More ironically, the result of the revolution was a conservative and reglious authority based on Sharia, something which the US hates even more.


After years and years of exploitation, most people in Africa just got used of it, until China came.

Oh fuck, China builds roads and hospitals for them, to give them the taste of modernization.

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main qimg cd206af254de08c7ef5b2672c11ac24a

FFS, China even trained the locals to know how to build railways and operate trains, so that one day the locals could do it on their own. Maybe still with Chinese technology, but they would know all the principles and rules behind the construction and machines.

This, smashed the old world oder built by the white people.

Africans are not supposed to understand how to build and operate. They need to rely on the west to do things: borrowing money from the west, contribution cheap labour to OEM factories, and sell their resources in low price when they cannot repay the loans.

And now Chinese are teaching them to stand on their feet.

Just tell Africans that China is building a debt trap, because this is how the west always does, and the west knows this better than anyone else.


A more cruel fact is that the US used to lack of interest in Africa, because it’s too poor there.

US politicians would only show some interest when USSR influence appeared there.

Africans were not even qualified to be exploit by the US, until China decided to participate in the development of Africa more, which is in the new millennium.

Even Africans would be confused about the US presence, since it’s never interested in Africa.


BTW,

recently China lent 10 billion USD to Brazil,

so that Brazil could repay international loan.

Meanwhile Brazil sells 69 billion RMB (10B USD) worth of soybeans to China, and then use the RMB to repay China’s loan.

Brazil got its international loan cleared, China got the soybean, and RMB got used in international trade.

Win-win.

Only the US is pissed off.

Because it could exploit something from Brazil, if Brazil couldn’t pay off the loan.

I wonder if anyone noticed that ever since the bankruptcy of Sri Lanka in 2022, we haven’t seen more countries go bankrupt?

THIS IS WW3, Putin just scored a devastating blow to the U.S.!

https://youtu.be/hPzMXYNBndY

Yes.

It already has.

Korean War – Conventional

Americans will know this war as the “Korean War”. And it was a bloody fiasco for all sides. Millions of Chinese died, and thousands of American and allies died. But at the end, the Chinese attained their objectives; the United States left China, and evacuated South Korea (in a rout, no less). The only Americans who still remember this war, and the massive hardships associated with it, is the United States Marine Corp.

Bio-weapon carpet bombing

This was followed by bio-weapon carpet bombing that began immediately at the conclusion of the conventional fighting. This lasted for decades. It started in the mid 1950s, and continued into the 1970s. This was a major CIA enterprise.

Eventually, the Chinese got to be pretty good at detecting bio-weapons, tracking the viruses, and devising strategies to counter the bio-weapons assaults. And over time, the effect of the bio-weapon carpet bombing became softer; lighter, and ineffective.

Engineered Famine

Thus, this method of warfare evolved into a new type of assault; a new kind of warfare. Rather than kill the Chinese people directly though viruses, the United States decides to starve China into submission. Thus, famine attempts were bio-weapons and genetically engineering insect strains were introduced inside of China to induce starvation and famine.

Interlude 1

During the late 1970s and into the 1980s, the United States made agreements with China, and the overt attempts at famine ended. Instead black operations, hidden no doubt, to start color revolutions were put in place.

Tiananmen color revolution

The NED tried their first Chinese color revolution in the “Pro Democracy movement” of the 1990s. Which failed for a multitude of reasons. But, both the United States and China learned from that event.

Interlude 2

Aside from a couple of “punches” by the United States (such as the Belgrade embassy bombing, and the carrier trip down the Taiwan strait) the United States spent it’s time readying for the next big attempt. Preparations took time, but pre-positioned elements of color revolutions were placed in the mainland, in Uighur-controlled Xinjiang, in Tibet, and in Hong Kong.

Then Edward Snowden comes to HK before going to Russia and provided the Chinese everything about the NED, and CIA prep work. Decades of work, and long-duration agents, were rounded up and killed. Those that were not, only made it out alive by going black and leaving everything behind. The horrors that the captured CIA operatives experienced sent shock-waves and shivers throughout the various agencies involved. The Chinese do not play.

Donald Trump initiates war

Oh, he talked a good talk, and spoke about never having a war. But there are many ways to conduct a war, and his administration was very active in them. Following in the pre-prep planning by the Obama Administration, The following wars came into being under Trump….

  • Trade War (failed)
  • Technology War (on-going)
  • Color Revolution in Tibet (failed)
  • Color revolution in HK (failed)
  • Taiwan color revolution (partial success)
  • Engineered famine through Drone dispersal (failed)
  • Submarine War in the South China Sea (on-going)
  • January 2020 Coronavirus on CNY in Wuhan (failed)
  • July 2020. The diarrhea Tick Virus assault in Beijing (failed)
  • August 2020. The vomiting humanized swine flu virus (failed)
  • The USN Naval flotilla engagement in 2020 (a dud, and resulted in the firing of Mark Esper)
  • Insurgency in XinJiang (Failed)
  • AUKUS (In process)
  • Nuclear systems in Australia (success)

Biden continues the war efforts…

Now, President Biden took the actions by President Trump and put them on “overdrive”. He also added some new wars…

  • NATO+ in the Pacific. (In process)
  • QUAD in the Pacific. (In process)
  • Nuclear systems in South Korea (success)
  • Nuclear systems in Japan (in process)
  • Interruption of the BRI (in process)
  • Militarizing Taiwan (in process)

And many more.

As I see it, the United States has been actively fighting a war with China. It is being so poorly reported that it is a stealth war, with certain fear-mongering hypes over blown, and many tactical events unreported.

Now, if you, the reader, desires to pretend that there has never been any hostilities at all, and that one day, there might be a war… then that’s fine.

I don’t care.

Seeing what I see; a historical BIG PICTURE… it is clear that the United States has no brakes or reverse gear and the current geo-political trajectory will absolutely result in conflict.

But, you know, I am of a conservative bent, and I like to believe that the United States would never be so stupid to attack the nation that [1] it owes so much debt to; [2] the nation that is nuclear armed and not afraid to use them, and [3] the nation that makes EVERYTHING the United States uses.

No American leader would ever be so absolutely stupid to do such a crazy thing.

Not even Biden.

Someone built a whole three-story building just to block his brother’s view of the sea.

The building, aptly called “Spite House”, was built in the 1950s, in Beirut, Lebanon.

What hapened is two brothers had inherited some land from their father.

Ensued a long dispute on how to manage the land. An agreement couldn’t be reached.

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main qimg 08503cdf8d1b8f44e2e77551e5f84bca lq

One of the brothers, apparently without the other’s go-ahead, built a wonderful house for himself with a perfect view of the sea.

This left the other brother quite pissed.

So, in order to spite him, the other brother built a very narrow, quite oddly-shaped, yet somehow still inhabitable building that looked like it jumped out of a Dr. Seuss book — smack dab in between the house and the lovely sea view.

 

house on the right, spite house on the left

Spite House is around 60 centimeters (2 feet) at its narrowest point and 4 meters (13 feet) at its widest.

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main qimg ce1fed8ebf454687d6131a735f51e0a6 lq

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There are two apartments on each floor.

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main qimg ba09d7525cdfdb507473c52479756848 lq

Spite House served its purpose – it blocked the beautiful view of the sea from his brother’s house. Plus as a result of this the house decreased in property value.

The building is called Al Ba’sa (in Arabic) which translates to “The Grudge”.

Jeff Brown has a great Twitter account

I suggest you all subscribe.

2023 05 31 19 55
2023 05 31 19 55

GUILTY TEENS Reacting To Life Sentences… #4

My Chinese American friend tells me that China can beat the US in a war with only 1/10 of their total force, should I believe him?

The United States, for all of its 800+ military bases, high technology planes and submarines, and for it being involved in over 9 continuous wars all over the globe… it ONLY have 50,000 combat troops.

China has 915,000 active duty troops, of which a full 210,000 are combat troops.

…

Now, let’s do the math.

Assuming that the United States deploys 100% of it’s combat troops in China to fight the Chinese, the Chinese would out number the combat forces by a 4.5x margin. Not a 10x margin.

…

So, no, your friend is wrong. 

He means well, but his numbers are off. China would meet parity with the United States with 1/5 of it’s total force. Not 1/10th.

Or 20% of it’s combat reserves. Of course, this assumes that Chinese missiles would not be used, nor the huge advantages in technology, numbers, bases, and other attributes that the Chinese have inside of China. 

This is a “sanity check” that is available for everyone to crunch the numbers with. What is amazing to me is that the American population has been so dumbed down into a state of numb stupidity, that they are unable to perform the most basic third grade level calculations.

People Laughed at His House Until They Came Inside

https://youtu.be/Km1MCUE2Rf4

World War 3 Potential Kick-off Dates: June 12-24

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2023 05 31 08 41

Based upon information which came to me discreetly via postal mail, I have concluded that World War 3 can kick-off in less than two weeks, between the dates of June 12 thru 24.   The largest NATO air ‘exercise” – Air Defender 23 – takes place in that time period; may cover Ukraine “Counter-Offensive.”

As described during my Memorial Day radio show last night, my wife and son came up to the house here in Pennsylvania, from our regular home in New Jersey, this past Saturday evening.  They brought with them, postal mail from my P.O. Box which has accumulated for about 3 weeks.

In that postal mail was a discreet, but large, envelope, containing what can be described as intelligence material about certain NATO planning.

I perused the material and then set about trying to verify it.   But with the entire US being on Memorial Day Weekend holiday, it was very difficult reaching my contacts from my years working with the FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force (JTTF), during which I handled National Security Intelligence, Terrorism, and Foreign Counter-Intelligence.

As of early this morning, Tuesday, May 30, I am able to reach several contacts  from my FBI years, and am further verifying the material.

Here’s what I can confirm:

NATO will commence its largest air exercise in history, called “Air Defender 2023” on June 12.

Air Defender 23 will be the most significant military exercise ever carried out in European skies. The event will involve the air forces of 25 nations.

More specifically, Air Defender 23 will represent the most extensive deployment exercise of air forces in the history of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, commonly known as NATO. The unprecedented event will involve up to 10,000 exercise participants who will train their flying skills with approximately 220 aircraft. The military exercise will take place in European airspace and under the command of the German Air Force, or Luftwaffe.

By creating this joint exercise, Air Defender 23 aims to enhance and optimize cooperation among NATO forces and show the alliance’s strength. But what exactly are the skills that Air Defender 23 intends its participants to train?

The 25 participating nations plan to investigate how their respective air forces would react and cooperate in case of a military crisis. Mainly, Air Defender 23 will be an opportunity to assess the participants’ joint airborne response to a hypothetical emergency. In this context, Germany will act as a collective defense hub for European airspace.

The 25 participating nations include Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Italy, Japan, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Norway, Poland, Romania, Slovakia, Spain, Sweden, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States, and Greece.

Air Defender 23 will see the arrival of 23 different aircraft types, including the F-35 of the Americans and Dutch, a NATO AWACS reconnaissance aircraft, and, for the first time ever, a Japanese Air Force transport aircraft. Of the 220 aircraft involved, 100 alone will be arriving from 35 states in the US.  Those US aircraft constitute the largest deployment of Air National Guard aircraft since Operation Desert Storm in Iraq back in 1991.

(HT REMARK: Not to put too fine a point on it, but one does not move that many aircraft, from that many countries, halfway around the world – and just outside an ongoing conflict zone in Ukraine – just to have an “exercise.”)

 

NATO “Exercise” Covering for Real Attack

Readers may recall that another NATO Exercise “BaltOps-2022” was used as cover to plant explosives on the NordStream 2 gas pipelines.  This was revealed by Investigative Journalist Seymour Hersh who showed the Biden regime planned the Nordstream bombing attack in the White House, deployed specialized Navy Divers from a team outside the investigative purview of Congress, to plant explosives that could be activated by special tones emitted from a sonar buoy.  Three months or so after the BaltOps-22 exercise, Hersh reported, a Norwegian air force plane was sent to air-drop the special tone-emitting sonar buoy, which detonated the underwater explosives, destroying much of the Nordtream 2 pipeline.

So NATO using an “exercise” to cover for an actual military operation, is nothing new, and still fresh in most people’s minds.

Fast-forward to today, and NATO is planning its largest air strike exercise in history.   It is doing so just outside the Ukraine-Russia conflict zone.  Gee, what a coincidence!

NATO supports Ukraine and has been supplying Ukraine with massive amounts of money and military weaponry/ammunition.

None of it has succeeded in turning the tide in Ukraine’s favor; Russia is winning, slowly-but-surely.  In fact, Ukraine is LOSING so badly, their own troops have begun SHOOTING OFFICERS IN THE HEAD rather than engage in battle.   That story, with horrifying graphic video of a Ukraine Battalion Commander shot in the head by his own men, is HERE

Now, the NATO countries have given almost all they can give to Ukraine, and yet Ukraine is still losing.

So NATO is coming to an inflection point: Either they admit they cannot help Ukraine defeat Russia, or . . . .

They come into the war on the side of Ukraine.

THAT, is what the postal mail material I received on Saturday, seems to indicate.

The only chance Ukraine has of turning the tide, and the ONLY chance NATO has of saving face after all its help to Ukraine failed, is for NATO to come into the conflict directly.

But there’s a problem: Russia has not attacked NATO.   Moreover, Ukraine is not a member of NATO.

So in order for NATO to come into the conflict, there has to be some action or event, that would “justify” NATO entering the fight.

 

CREATING AN INCIDENT

For months, the world has been hearing about the coming “Ukraine Counter-Offensive.”  It’s been repeatedly stated that Ukraine is going to launch some blistering effort, to repel Russia out of Luhansk, Donetsk, Kherson, and Zaporozhye Oblasts (states) which voted to secede from Ukraine and join Russia, and to regain control over Crimea, which seceded by vote in the year 2014.

Of late, mass-media in the West is also reporting that the U.S., through NATO, is working on giving fourth generation F-16 Fighter Jets to Ukraine and training Ukrainian pilots to operate those jets.  Sadly for Ukraine, training a fighter pilot is not done quickly.  It take upwards of a year.

Even worse, I reported (HERE) that the U.S. is not only pushing its NATO allies to donate F-16’s but the U.S. is also insisting the planes be of the type with special modifications, enabling those planes to carry U.S. B-61 free-fall, nuclear bombs, and Ukrainian pilots be trained in using them!

This demand by the US has been met with strong opposition from a number of NATO allies.

However, the material sent to me via postal mail, indicates NATO plans to create an incident wherein they can justify NATO entry into the war, and use the coming “Ukrainian Counter-Offensive” as the means to do just that.

The papers mailed to me indicate the following scenarios are in-planning:

SCENARIO “A”

1)  Ukraine grants NATO permission to enter its air space to establish a nationwide no-fly zone.  NATO agrees and enters.

2) Russia has already warned it will engage and destroy such foreign aircraft.   Russia then does what it says it would do, NATO screams it has been “attacked by Russia” and it’s on like Donkey Kong.

The papers mailed to me also include other scenarios:

 

SCENARIO “B”

A) “Ukrainian F-16’s” enter the fight and launch attacks into actual Russia.  Belgorad is the likely attack zone.  But since there are no qualified Ukrainian Pilots, the planes will be piloted by British and American pilots.

B) Russia shoots down the planes either in Ukraine or inside Russia.

C) When the pilots are either captured alive, or killed in the fight, their bodies will prove they were British and American.

D) Russia declares they have been attacked by the US and NATO and declare war upon us.  Again, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

 

SCENARIO “C”

Includes both Scenario “A” and Scenario “B” above.

i) NATO is granted permission to enter Ukrainian air space to set up no-fly zone and NATO enters.

ii) Ukrainian F-16’s enter Russia and attack.

iii) NATO planes warn incoming Russian defenders they cannot attack the Ukrainian planes or they will be hit by some 200 NATO planes.

iv) Russia tells both Ukraine and NATO what’s what, and commences hitting all of them.   It’s on like Donkey Kong.

 

In support of this intel received via postal mail, I can also report the USS Gerald R. Ford made a port call to Oslo, Norway last week, spending four days in port.  It is shown entering Oslo harbor in the photo below:

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2023 05 31 08 42

The USS Gerald Ford is the largest warship in the world, and carries upwards of 90 aircraft for battle.

It even has small in-flight refueling tankers.

It’s squadrons of fighter jets can take off, be refueled in-flight, enter northwestern Russia to launch attacks, and return to the aircraft carrier.

So Russia would be faced with intense air battles in Ukraine, intense air strikes into Belgorad, and other air strikes in northwestern Russia from fighters on the USS Gerald Ford, while US aircraft carriers in the Pacific, sail from Japan and perhaps launch additional attacks against far eastern Russia, from the Pacific Ocean.

The intel I received by mail claims this massive series of strikes would immediately overwhelm Russia’s conventional forces, but it says that NATO concludes this would compel Russia to sue for peace.

I say that conclusion is flat-out wrong.

I say such an overwhelming attack, would compel Russia to use nuclear weapons because the survival of their country is at stake.

I say, if Russia has to resort to nukes, it won’t be some small, tactical nukes on a battlefield.  I say they are far more likely to make large, strategic launches, against western decision-making centers, which is precisely what Russia warned it would do if the West interfered with Russia’s Ukrainian operations.

Of course, I can say anything i want, but I don’t speak for Russia . . .  or for any other country.  I am just applying what I know to the situation, and making an intelligence assessment based upon the information I have.

For what it’s worth, I am going on record with this article saying that the time window of June 12-24 is the period when the outbreak of World War 3 seems almost unavoidable.

If this takes place — and it may not —- I suspect we in the west would be hit with nukes very early in the conflict.

The one variable that I cannot factor-in, is if Russia is able to thwart a potential Ukraine Counter-oiffensive, using missile strikes which take out Weapons Depots needed for such a Counter-Offensive.

If Russia is able to wipe out a large portion of the few weapons Ukraine has left, then undertaking the scenarios above would be utterly futile for NATO unless . . . .     unless . . . . this whole Ukraine conflict was set-up to pave the way for a war against Russia anyway . . . and whatever happens in and to Ukraine has never mattered.

If THAT is the case, then it seems to be June 12-23 is the date range for the actual start of World War 3.

I earnestly hope you and your family have emergency food, water, medicine, a generator for electric, fuel for your generator and for your cars, portable communications gear like a CB radio for each car and for your house, and a shortwave radio at home so you can get news from around the world, and a plan to “bug-out” if the nukes start flying.

If the intel I received by mail is accurate — and I think it is — then you have about two weeks left to plan, stock-up, and pray.

Get right with God.

Vermont Spice Cake

You don’t have to live in Vermont to enjoy this spicy Vermont Spice Cake crowned with an icy cream cheese frosting sprinkled with chopped nuts or whole pecans.

Yield: 12 servings

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IMG 3363 edited 7

Ingredients

Cake

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour
  • 3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 3/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
  • 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups Libby’s® 100% Pure Pumpkin
  • 1/2 cup Nestlé® Carnation® Evaporated Milk
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Maple Frosting

  • 11 ounces cream cheese (8 ounce package plus a 3 ounce package), softened
  • 1/3 cup butter, softened
  • 3 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
  • 2 teaspoons maple flavoring*
  • 1/2 cup chopped nuts and nut halves (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and flour** two 9 inch round cake pans.

Cake

  1. Combine flour, baking powder, pumpkin pie spice, baking soda, nutmeg and salt in small bowl.
  2. Beat sugar and butter in large mixer bowl until creamy.
  3. Add eggs; beat for 2 minutes.
  4. Beat in pumpkin, evaporated milk, water and vanilla extract.
  5. Gradually beat in flour mixture.
  6. Spread evenly into prepared cake pans.
  7. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.
  8. Cool in pans on wire racks for 15 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely.

Maple Frosting

  1. Beat cream cheese, butter and powdered sugar in large mixer bowl until fluffy.
  2. Add maple flavoring; mix well.
  3. To Assemble: Cut each cake in half horizontally with long, serrated knife.
  4. Frost between layers and on top of cake, leaving sides unfrosted.
  5. Garnish with nuts, if desired.

Notes

* 3 teaspoons maple flavoring are suggested for a stronger maple flavor.

** For best results, use our Pan Release!

To make a 2-layer cake, frost between layers, over top and on sides of cake.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 607 Calories from Fat: 231 Total Fat: 25.7g (39% of DV) Saturated Fat: 15.5g 77% of DV) Cholesterol: 122mg (41% of DV) Sodium: 529mg (21% of DV) Carbohydrates: 88.3g (28% of DV) Dietary Fiber: 2.2g (9% of DV) Sugars: 60.3g Protein: 7.7g

Vitamin A: 20% DV Vitamin C: 2% DV Calcium: 9% DV Iron: 22% DV

* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet.

Oh SH*T, The gloves just came OFF

In recent years, the United States has been saying at every turn that the products of Chinese companies have affected the national security of the United States, thus imposing restrictions on Chinese products.

One of the most hilarious is that they say the refrigerators and corn produced by China are Chinese spies that could steal American secrets and affect US national security. The report concocted by a Washington-based think tank called Observe, Orientate, Decide, Act (OODA) claims that “Next time you open your fridge for a late-night snack, watch out, because China might be spying on you!”

At the state level, the most typically absurd incident was on January 14, 2021, when the U.S. Department of Defense added nine Chinese companies, including Chinese smartphone maker Xiaomi Corp, to a blacklist of alleged Chinese Military companies and imposed sanctions.

On March 25, 2022, the U.S. Federal Communications Commission (FCC) added China Telecom and China Mobile to a list of “communication equipment and services that pose a threat to U.S. national security.”

Well, this time the bully had a taste of his own medicine.

But I don’t view the Micron ban a tit-for-tat action. Micron has itself to blame for failing to abide by Chinese laws and regulations.

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2023 05 31 10 53

It’s natural that China has its own concerns about national security. And Micron chips were only barred in China’s key infrastructure sectors. They were not banned in the general consumer goods sector.

BTW, Micron has been a double dealer. While reaping colossal profits from the Chinese market, Micron actively instigated U.S. sanctions on China.

On May 22, the day after the review results of Micron were revealed, Micron said at a J.P. Morgan conference call that: “We estimate that the combined direct sales and indirect sales through distributors to China headquartered companies is about 1/4 of our total revenue.”

No doubt, China is a very large and important market for Micron.

Since the United States launched the trade war and science and technology war against China, the normal reaction of US enterprises with huge interests in China is to try to lobby the US government not to do so before launching a trade war. These companies would only passively enforce the ban, and they would write applications to the U.S. government for imposing an exemption for his company or one of their products, or to obtain a certain transition period.

But Micron was an exception.

From 2018 to 2022, Micron spent $9.5 million in lobbying, with the goal of attacking China’s semiconductor manufacturing industry.

Micron submitted more than 170 lobbying issues to the U.S. government between 2018 and 2022, of which lobbying content related to China accounted for as much as 67 percent…

In the end, Micron is only eating its own bitter fruit.

Micron itself knows clearly whether it has cooperated with Washington to export unsafe products to China. It should reflect on its own behavior.

Two instances opened my eyes at an early age.

When I was 10 I was consumed with being an astronaut. I could tell you all about Mercury, Gemini and Apollo. I was glued to the TV when I heard “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”. I invited Neil Armstrong to speak at my 6th grade graduation (he graciously declined due to previous engagements, LOL).

I didn’t want to be the first black astronaut, I just wanted to be an astronaut.

For Christmas my mother bought me a Revell model of the Saturn V moon rocket that was supposed to be the biggest plastic model ever created to date, over 4 feet high when completed. The box doubled as a carry/display case. When I finished it I was so proud that I even took it to family get togethers to show it off (yeah, weird). On one such occasion I overheard one of our relatives and a family friend telling my mother that she needed to “get that fool stuff outta that boy’s head ‘cause ain’t no colored boy gonna be some damn astronaut”. My mother who was wise beyond her years (she had me young) chose to ignore them.

I also loved to draw. I drew everything. Animals, people, pictures I saw in magazines and naturally, rockets. I liked going to the San Diego Museum of Art in Balboa Park and try and draw the paintings. Again with the family negativity. “Black folks don’t do no art. Better get him straight”. Again, Mom ignored them.

She worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy (to us) white family that lived near San Diego State University. I was 8 at the time. The husband was the Graduate Manager for SDSU. His wife was a homemaker with three kids. He listened to my passion for airplanes and rockets and shared with me what I would have to do to become a pilot and astronaut. They had a huge shelf of books in the house and he said whenever I was there I could read anything I wanted. He even had a few books on airplanes and flight. Being a Navy town he used some of his connections to arrange a visit to NAS North Island and I even got to talk briefly to an actual pilot (That’s when I fell in love with the F4 Phantom jet). Not one white person told me I couldn’t be an astronaut.

His wife looked at one of my drawings one day (naturally it was an airplane) and she asked me why I drew the wing like I did. I said because that’s what I see. She made a makeshift still-life on the kitchen table, gave me clean sheet of paper and asked me to draw it. When I blurred out the background started to shade in shadows she asked me why. “‘Cause things in the back are always fuzzy and making this side darker makes it rounder”. I was identifying perspective and drawing 3D without being taught because “that’s what I saw”.

A few weeks later they asked my Mom if she would like for me to attend the Campus Lab School on the SDSU campus instead of public school. It was a private K-6 grade university school for faculty and staff kids and was used as a training school for Education majors. The school experimented with individualized curriculum, non-graded organization structures, team teaching and a lot of new and creative teaching processes for the time.

I was introduced to learning art and creativity in a way that I could have never received in public schools. Not one white person told me I couldn’t be an artist.

I never learned to fly or be an astronaut but when I took my 6 year old son to see the Blue Angels in 1995 I made sure he was introduced to Lt. Commander Donnie Cochran, leader of the Blue Angels that year. A black man. My son has spent the last two years as a project manager for SpaceX.

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main qimg 1ef0dfd775ef08a760bd031e6f110b8c

(CDR, now Captain Donnie Cochran, commanding officer of the Blue Angels.)

I did take that interest in art (that was nurtured by a white woman who saw talent and not color) and became an art director for the past 30 years. I’ve done work for Reebok, Transamerica, Honda, Acura and a ton of other clients, large and small.

I learned from an early age to see people for their character not their skin color because a long time ago someone saw me for my character (and potential) and not as a color.

It’s not just black and white, though. You can find race/class enemies and allies everywhere. I have heard from friends and colleagues that there were people of their own ethnicity who discouraged and hindered them from succeeding, while the only positive help they got was from another race. Mexican, Hispanic, Korean, Indian, etc. Even some white friends who grew up in dirt-poor families were told to “get that stupid stuff out of your head ‘cause this is just who we are down here”.

BTW: They also encouraged my mother to go back to school. I was awfully proud to see my Mom graduate with a Masters’ degree in Education just ten years after I graduated with my Bachelors’.

As integral parts of Western society, the Western media bears the duty to uphold a sense of patriotism by fostering unity in the face of other countries deemed as potential adversaries. Furthermore, the press often faces political pressures from governing bodies and influential entities, leading to restricted access to information and sources, consequently limiting the breadth of perspectives presented. Additionally, governmental influence has permeated the media landscape, dictating the selection of headline news, the amplification of specific issues, and even the deliberate omission of certain stories altogether.

This is why the Western media never mentioned the diplomatic failure of the Budapest memorandum and subsequent unification of Germany to stop the NATO Eastern expansion as the primary reason for the Ukraine war.

Historically, the U.S. government has used various media strategies throughout history to shape public opinion and advance its political agenda, sometimes leading to significant consequences such as starting wars. Here are some notable examples with corresponding dates:

  1. The Maine Incident (1898): The explosion of the USS Maine battleship in Havana Harbor, Cuba, heightened tensions between the U.S. and Spain and played a role in the outbreak of the Spanish-American War. The incident occurred in 1898 and resulted in the deaths of 260 American sailors.
  2. Yellow Journalism and the Spanish-American War (1898): Newspapers like the New York Journal and the New York World engaged in sensationalist reporting, exaggerating stories and blaming Spain for the mistreatment of Cubans. This influenced public sentiment and contributed to the Spanish-American War.
  3. Propaganda during World War II (1939-1945): The U.S. government employed propaganda to boost morale and shape public opinion during World War II, utilizing various mediums such as posters, radio broadcasts, newsreels, and films.
  4. Operation Mockingbird (1950s-1970s): The CIA ran a covert operation to influence and manipulate media organizations and journalists, promoting narratives aligned with the government’s agenda during the Cold War era.
  5. Vietnam War and the “Five O’clock Follies” (1960s-1970s): Daily press briefings by the U.S. military during the Vietnam War, known as the “Five O’clock Follies,” presented an overly optimistic view of the conflict to shape public perception.
  6. The Gulf of Tonkin Incident (1964): The U.S. government claimed that North Vietnamese naval vessels had attacked American destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin, justifying increased military intervention in Vietnam. However, later investigations revealed that the second attack, which provided the justification for the intervention, likely did not occur.
  7. Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMDs) in Iraq (2003): The U.S. government claimed that Iraq possessed WMDs to justify the invasion in 2003. However, no substantial evidence of WMDs was found.
  8. War on Terror and “Embedded” Journalism (2001-present): Journalists were embedded with military units during the invasions of Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003, providing controlled access and shaping the narrative.
  9. Government-sponsored Social Media Campaigns (ongoing in recent years): U.S. government agencies have utilized social media platforms to counter extremist narratives, promote positive messages about the United States, and shape public opinion in support of policies.
  10. Information Operations and Cyber Warfare (ongoing in recent years): Governments, including the U.S., engage in activities such as spreading disinformation and manipulating online platforms to influence public opinion and advance political agendas.

These examples demonstrate the ways in which the U.S. government has employed media tactics over time to shape public opinion, create justifications for military action, and garner support for its policies.

Beautiful Children Book Illustrations By Emilia Dziubak

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1 171

Emilia Dziubak is a super talented illustrator based in Poznan, Poland. Here you can enjoy some of her book illustrations for children. Aren’t they beautiful?

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Human beings are practical creatures.

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main qimg 2b322b1a5f9acb6080f23094d7e4b8ea

Four of the top 6 apps in the app store (ios) stateside is Chinese.

Further, temu, TikTok, capcut and shein occupied the top 4 spots for the most downloads in the past month (Feb-March 2023).

Why are temu and shein so popular, despite the omnipresence of Amazon and a galaxy of shopping apps?

They offer what the competition doesn’t, which is trendy and affordable bang for the buck that shapeshift to ever evolving taste and yes, fashion.

For example, Shein’s turnaround from design to limited risk production is measured in hours and days.

The competition can’t keep up, literally.

TikTok is hassle-free to use, and optimized as a short video sharing platform. People keep coming back for more of what is dished out, and the word on the street is “it rocks”, evidenced by the 150m active American users today. That’s a 70 percent penetration rate of the under 50 population.

Tiktok’s algorithms, which is a trade secret just like coca cola’s formula, must be doing something right.

Ultimately, survival in both the natural and man-made worlds is predicated on utility. Cease being useful and one becomes redundant, discarded over time.

The Chinese are incredibly useful to American youth, and benefit is enjoyed biting off the fruit of Chinese innovation.

There will be hell to pay if benefits are withdrawn, even if the Chinese nation may be the devil himself.

Remember, America is willing to scream “climate change is fake! ” and withdraw from both the Kyoto protocol and Paris accord in order to continue enjoying cheap gas powering their gas guzzlers.

What if I tell you that China has won the chip war against the U.S? China recently broke records for chip production while the U.S is still under the chip crisis. China is expanding its chip production capacity and has become the world’s largest chip producer, but will the U.S accept its defeat while the U.S companies are incompetent? It is still not ready to accept China as a winner. do you want to know how China’s chip company SMIC became the world’s greatest chip producer?

Let’s find out.

China’s chip industry is growing very fast, the industry has seen spikes in recent years that no other country has ever seen most of the developed countries took years to make their chip Industries and on the other hand China in a few years made its industry one of the top leading chip Industries starting a chip industry from scratch takes decades and China did it in a very short period.

Some Nations like the U.S have tried to Skyrocket their chip industry but no one has ever been able to do it except China. The U.S has been making chips for years but it is still not a part of the top three countries in chip production.

China has now become the world’s largest chip producer, it made 57 percent of the world’s total chips in 2022 and on the other hand Taiwan made 21 percent and South Korea made 19 percent of the world’s total chips. China left everyone behind on this.

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2023 05 31 20 4s7

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2023 05 31 20 47

China always makes futuristic decisions it starts making things that will be used years later, it is always very fast and it’s one of China’s rules to focus on its tech industry.

But why are other developed nations not able to achieve their goal as much as China is, because they are taking most things for granted.

Chinese people’s habit is to work hard (not lazy and lethargic as Indians) and on the other hand the other nations are not focusing on the sectors that need attention, no one is making the progress that China is making, because they are not taking the right actions at the right time and if it continues no one can stop China from becoming the world’s leading Tech country within the coming ten years time frame.

Actually, the Russians have built a number of their subs with windows in the sail. They spend time on surface transits in various places in extremely cold seas. This offers their crew some protection while conning the boat. Note here, a Typhoon, Oscar, and interior of a Foxtrot-class submarine sail.

Now, as someone pointed out, and I was going to mention, but didn’t, the sail is not a pressurized section of the ship, it floods, so the water exerts force on both sides of the glass when submerged. The pressure hatch to the inside of the submarine separates the pressure hull from the interior of the sail.

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main qimg 1e20cd7812648c824fba9df5349f7255

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main qimg 9a9a586169f7025da7f59d6f4d8fd763 lq

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main qimg db47a7caac33893da08b666a086c77b7

Looking inward, taking a pause, and reflecting is good for the soul

Life is funny. I’ve been watching these videos made all over the world making fun of Americans. I have to laugh. But it’s really, really sad. The United States is the world’s “laughing stock” right now, but no one is really laughing. They are just terrified.

West is finished

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main qimg 5f8ce83f0f0143825b9c5127649e0326

Americans Living Abroad: First Time You Realized America Really Messed You Up | Part 2 | TikTok

As someone who was born and raised in America, and still lives here, it surprises me how many of us don't realize that America's "culture" is to literally not care about people. So many countries have these cool cultures that can be expressed through dance or customization/outfits, but America's culture is to brag about how much they don't give a fuck about anyone.

https://youtu.be/ukP6NHJ5og0

I came to China as anti-China as any average Westerner, with strong opinions about Tibet and pollution.

Originally, I didn’t mean to work in China, but that’s where I found my first job. The pay was higher than anywhere else for my skills and experience, so, opportunity led to there. But I meant for it to be temporary. I wanted to get some experience and then to find a better country.

I lived in Equatorial Guinea when I found this job, teaching in a military school. It was a dictatorship, a bad one. Everyone warned me about going to China because of freedom and stuff, but nobody warned me about Equatorial Guinea. My co-workers in Guinea couldn’t believe I would accept going to China. So I really expected at least as bad as Guinea.

But when I arrived in Tianjin, I was surprised. I was free. A lot more than in Africa. And most of all, I felt safe. There is no crime, especially violent crime, in China. All the policemen and military men I met were welcoming and helpful! I even dated a few. Yes, in Africa I never dared dating a man, I feared for my life, but in China no problem. They have the best gay bars I’ve ever seen, huge with several floors with KTV, bright light cafe, lounge, restaurant etc all in one. I felt freer than even in France for that!

The people were really welcoming, really friendly. I didn’t know Chinese, they didn’t know English, but they were eager to interact. In addition to being free, safe and welcoming, it was also cheap and modern. The infrastructure is amazing but also everything is digital. With a single app like wechat or alipay, you can pay your utility bills online (and monitor your usage in real time), book Cinema tickets, order meals…

The logistics are amazing too. Delivery is usually free, or like 3 rmb, for a really efficient service. If you want things fast, use JD logistics, you get same day delivery of anything you buy online.

I’ve been here almost 10 years now. I’ve learnt Chinese, although I’m not fluent yet, and I have progressed regularly in my career. I started at 1000 Euros a month (not much back then but with a flat on campus, it’s a lot of purchasing power) and now I’m around 5000 Euros a month with international health-care and 3 months paid vacation. It’s still a land of opportunity. The Chinese dream is real. If you are willing and hard working, there is money to be made.

The only downside is that it’s very hard to actually immigrate. I wish I could, but the requirements to get a green card are really high… I’m hopeful that in the future, it can become easier, because I really wish to stay in China until the end of my life.

And that’s also why I’m mad at the Western media. The way they depict China is unfair. I get called a wumao a lot for just stating facts. Everyone is prejudiced against China and nobody wants to hear the truth. China is ahead of us and moving forward. We have so much to learn from them.

EDIT March 2 2023

First, I didn’t expect my answer to get that many views or upvotes. Thanks!

Lately, I’m getting a lot of comments with similar points that I would like to address.

“You are a Westerner, you are privileged, you don't know the life Chinese have"

I am a Westerner, privileged in some regards (the patience of administration and services), second class citizen in others (cannot use certain services, apps or products that require a Chinese ID).

But do you think I’ve lived 10 years with no interactions with Chinese people? I’ve taught hundreds of students from all over China and with all economic backgrounds. I’ve had lots of Chinese co-workers, neighbors and friends. All the boyfriends I’ve had in China were Chinese and most were from humble origins. I know where they live, how much they make, what their job is like.

“You earn a lot, life would be good anywhere with that salary"

It is good NOW. The first seven years, it wasn’t. My parents joined me after 1.5 years so we were three people, one of us with health issues and no health insurance (diabetes and eventually cancer) that I had to pay out of pocket. We were far from rich. Now we earn more, but with my dad’s cancer and his recent passing, we have yet to save anything.

“you live in big cities, life is different in the countryside"

Yes, I live in Beijing and I’ve lived in Tianjin. I’ve also lived in Zhuhai, which isn’t considered big. But I’ve not remained in those cities!

I’ve visited friends’ hometowns, poorer, small villages with slanted, old homes. I’ve traveled, seen a lot. I can’t claim that I’ve seen it all, but in 10 years and moving so much, meeting so many people, going to so many places, I think I have enough experience to get a sense.

I opened underground room and found treasure full of silver and gold jewelry

Fake. Real? I don’t know.

Coffee Syrup

This is an old New England favorite. It is usually stirred into cold milk (2 to 3 tablespoons per glass). It can also be used to flavor milkshakes, or used as an ice cream topping.

DIY coffee syrup
DIY coffee syrup

Instructions

  1. Place enough coffee and water to make 6 servings. Run the coffee cycle as usual.
  2. When the coffee is finished brewing, discard the used coffee grounds and add to the filter a second quantity of coffee sufficient to make 6 servings. This time, instead of adding fresh water to the coffeemaker, pour the already-brewed coffee into the machine. Run the coffee cycle again. You’ll end up with double-strength coffee.
  3. Repeat the process again, using new coffee, but reuse the brewed coffee instead of water. In the end, you’ll have triple-strength brewed coffee.
  4. Measure the amount of brewed coffee. Add half as much sugar as there is brewed coffee. For example, if after the three brewing cycles you have 5 cups of brewed coffee, add 2 1/2 cups granulated sugar. Stir briskly until the sugar is dissolved. Make sure you add sugar while the coffee is hot so that the sugar dissolves.
  5. Store the syrup in a tightly covered jar in the refrigerator. It keeps a very long time.

Notes

You need a coffeemaker in which boiling water goes through the ground coffee in a filter and drips into a pot. The ingredient amounts will vary depending on your coffeemaker and how much syrup you want to make.

Stop Picking Your Face! New Toy Lets You Pop Pimples For Fun

No matter how much you think you understand people, they will ALWAYS surprise you. This time they have made “Pop It Pal” – a chunk of fake skin dotted with several pores, each of which is filled with simulated pus you can squeeze out.

pimple popper1
pimple popper1

As disgusting as all this might seem, it actually makes sense why pimple popping has become so popular. Squeezing out a big red whopper on your nose is inherently satisfying, and the science backs it up. According to neuroscientist Heather Berlin, our brains reward us with dopamine for expunging a zit.

pimple popper2
pimple popper2

Want more?

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pimple popper3

Entering a 25 MILE Maze of Deep Underground Tunnels to Find This…

May 25, 2023 at 11:51 am

China is reportedly negotiating major arms deals with Saudi Arabia and Egypt as both countries look to become less reliant on the US for their defence needs.

According to South China Morning Post , which cited the geopolitical and intelligence website Tactical Report, Saudi Arabia Military Industries (SAMI) is currently in talks with China’s state-owned North Industries Group Corporation (Norinco) to acquire a range of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), also known as drones, and air defence systems.

Among the weapons included in the potential deal are the Sky Saker FX80 drone, the CR500 vertical take-off drone, the Cruise Dragon 5 and 10 “suicide drones” and the HQ-17AE short-range air defence (SHORAD) system.

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2023 05 28 18 52

The discussions have apparently “reached an advanced stage”, and have been ongoing for about a year, said Tactical Report. It quoted an unnamed source close to the deal, adding that it is speculated that it will be settled in Chinese currency, the yuan.

Egypt is said be in separate talks with Beijing to acquire the Chengdu J-10C

multirole fighter jet, also known as the Vigorous Dragon. It is the most advanced J-10 variant

and is powered by an indigenous engine.

To further negotiations started late last year, a delegation from the Egyptian Air Force (EAF) is expected to meet representatives from the Chengdu Aircraft Industry Group on the side-lines of the Langkawi International Maritime and Aerospace Exhibition in Malaysia this week.

A report last year by Middle East Eye

(MEE) noted that China is “emerging as the secondary arms supplier of choice for many Middle East countries.”

US President Joe Biden came into office with the foreign policy objective

of barring all sales of “offensive weapons” to Saudi Arabia in light of its use of American military technology in its devastating war in Yemen.

This policy was contradicted by a $650 million arms deal with Saudi

approved by Biden’s state department, a deal which allowed Riyadh to maintain attack helicopters that have been used to bomb Yemen.

The 2022 Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) Trends in International Arms Transfers Report

notes that, from 2018-2022, Saudi Arabia was the world’s second-largest arms importer, accounting for 9.8% of global arms imports over that period, with the US supplying 78% of Saudi Arabia purchases.

The same report notes that Egypt was the world’s sixth-largest arms buyer during the period, accounting for 4.5% of global arms imports, with 34% of its imports coming from Russia.

In a 2018 SIPRI article

, Pieter Wezeman notes that Saudi Arabia aims to diversify its arms suppliers to widen and deepen its international political network to minimize the effects of Western arms sales restrictions.

Russia has not always been Egypt’s preferred arms provider. Bradley Bowman and other writers note in a May 2021 Defense News article

that before the 2013 Egypt coup, wherein then-defense minister Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi deposed the then-incumbent president Mohammed Morsi, the US accounted for 47% of Egyptian arms imports. However, after the 2013 coup, the Obama administration froze aircraft, tank, and missile sales to Cairo for two years until relations improved. Due to that freeze, Bowman and the other writers note that Egypt tried to diversify its arms import providers by purchasing large quantities of weapons from Russia and France.

In making this move, Middle East clients can reduce their political dependence on Washington and the EU by purchasing inexpensive, yet effective Chinese arms.

ABANDONED ROTHSCHILD MANSION UK – Left to decay!

Russia is one of the strongest economies on Earth

Surprised?

It’s true

The Russian lands control almost 1000 Trillion Rubles of Priceless Assets from Oil to Gold to Palladium to Platinum to Gas to Coal to now the world’s largest salt deposits

In Dollar terms it’s around $ 12.5 Trillion of Energy and Metal Assets

And that’s the tapped assets

The Arctic alone could have another $ 10 Trillion untapped assets

Today Russia is one of the Five Countries in the world that can happily go back to the Gold Standard without a single problem and peg it’s Rubles wrt Gold.

Let’s see Russia

Russia owes $ 514 Billion in External Debts

It’s barely 4.7% of it’s vast Assets

Russia owes around 40 Trillion Rubles in Internal Debts as of 30.9.2022

Yet it’s barely 4% of it’s Vast Assets!!!!

The Russian Economys $ 1.9 Trillion GDP is a myth based purely on Dollar numbers.

The real Ruble economy is much stronger and larger, just like Iran

Russia is a Bankers dream

US is a Bankers Nightmare

Curious Ancient Stone Objects In The Cairo Museum In Egypt

These Papercraft Mosquitoes Look So Real You’ll Want To Swat Them

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Combining realism with attention to detail and remarkable technical abilities, artist Masanobu Azami, who goes by the name Scissorhands, also deserves honorable mention among his Japanese paper-crafting peers.

Scissorhands can create minute masterpieces out of paper as well. In fact, it was his smallest creation to date that went viral last week when he tweeted it as part of a hashtag campaign for artists to introduce their representative works. His mosquito is not only accurately sized, only measuring mere millimeters in length, it looks anatomically accurate with an astonishing level of detail, from feet to antennae.

And since the infamous blood-lusting insects are rarely found in isolation, it’s only natural that Scissorhands created more than one specimen.

More: Twitter h/t: grapee

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You mean NATO invading China?

How?

main qimg a36ebfcaabaf8ed3ba125e92403a6d47 lq
main qimg a36ebfcaabaf8ed3ba125e92403a6d47 lq

There is no contiguous land route

You have a HUGE BUFFER ZONE

Russia, Central Asia, Mongolia, India, Nepal, Myanmar, Cambodia

All Neutral Or Anti NATO Nations

So a Land invasion is IMPOSSIBLE unless Russia complies or joins NATO which is now almost impossible

That leaves a Naval Offensive through the Sea of Japan and the South China Sea

China has a huge Navy plus a massive array of Land to Sea Missiles along the entire border

NATO has its Navy all over the world but Chinas Navy is primarily in that region. So Chinas concentration of Naval power may be 10:1 against NATO

If NATO increases the fleet size in the Region then that means the Baltic Fleet can play havoc in Scandinavian waters and maybe bombard and pulverize Odessa

The barrage of missiles from China and the Chinese Navy would simply be too much for NATO

They take months to replenish Ammo, how long so you think they need to replenish a submarine or a destroyer?

A Total Naval Barrage may have 640 Missiles to hit China while Chinas Navy and Land missiles alone number 2200

That’s 4:1 Advantage right there

And in the 0.0000001% chance of it looking likely that NATO would triumph, CHINA would simply decide to save face at the expense of Nuclear Devastation

Japan – NUKED

Australia -30% NUKED

South Korea – NUKED

USA – West Coast – NUKED, Mid West – 40% NUKED, East Coast – 25% NUKED

The PLA may even Nuke Non Aligned India as a death punch

So China may be destroyed but the World will be in a Dystopian future for minimum 100 years and at least 60 Million Americans will be dead or permanently affected and US will perhaps never recover

Maybe the Balloons marked all strategic cities for a Nuclear Hit in the worst case scenario

So NATO & CHINA – not a very wise move

Is the US creating three Asian Ukraines (South Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines) to become frontline states to contain China?

That’s what the US neo-con warmongers would like but China isn’t going to attack Taiwan.

What is happening is that the US wants to use Taiwan, Japan, SK, and the Philippines to attack China.

What will happen is that China will surround Taiwan, no fighting involved unless the DPP shoots first. But China will have it’s ships 150 miles away from Taiwan so that the missiles don’t have the range to hit the ships.

And then China will wait for the US’s response. If the US starts an attack, the US, NATO, Japan, SK, and Australia will get their ships sunk. China wins and China takes all Western Pacific islands from the US and removes all US bases in the Western Pacific.

If the US doesn’t attack then China wins and the US looks like it’s afraid, which it is.

So either way China wins. So most likely, the US won’t attack China. What the US is doing is trying to increase the military budget of the US, Japan, SK, and Australia to pump money into the MICC.

And they have already succeeded. Australia is set to spend $386 Billion on 8 subs for delivery in the mid 2050s. Japan is increasing it’s defense budget. And a lot of it will go to the US for weapons, ships, and fighters.

Found Mystic Abandoned Castle Hidden in the Woods

Easy Kummelweck Rolls

2023 05 28 18 10
2023 05 28 18 10

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup cold water
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • Kaiser rolls
  • Caraway seeds
  • Pretzel salt

Instructions

  1. In a small saucepan over medium-high heat, stir together water and cornstarch. Heat mixture to a gentle boil. Reduce heat to low, and stir until mixture thickens and is translucent. Remove from heat and let cool.
  2. Brush cooled cornstarch mixture on the top of ordinary Kaiser rolls.
  3. Over cornstarch-water mixture, sprinkle equal amounts of caraway seeds and pretzel salt.
  4. Heat in a 350 degrees F oven for about 3 minutes, long enough for the top of the rolls to get crusty and for the caraway seeds and salt to stick.

After Beijing responded in kind to Washington’s tech restrictions, the move was branded unfounded and bad for business

By Timur Fomenko, a political analyst

China recently restricted chips made by US semiconductor firm Micron from being used in its national infrastructure, branding them a “national security threat”.

The language and rationale of such a move should sound familiar, because it’s precisely what the US has been doing over the past few years in blacklisting Chinese technology companies and pushing allies to do the same. “You can’t trust having Huawei in your 5G infrastructure” was the general line used by Washington officials. According to them, and to Western media repeating this line, all kinds of Chinese technology constitutes an “espionage risk,” from TikTok to balloons to fridges.

So based on this treatment of Chinese companies by the US, it was only a matter of time before Beijing struck back. And one might think that if Washington was willing to use “national security” as a pretext for market exclusion, it would be acceptable for China to the same. Only fair, right?

Apparently not. Despite the brutal restrictions the US has placed on Chinese technology, which have also included blacklisting its entire semiconductor industry and forcing third-party countries to follow suit, the US reacted with outrage to Beijing’s announcement

and accused it of “having no basis in fact.” Not only that, but Washington then further claimed that the move was evidence that China’s regulatory environment was “unreliable” and that the country was no longer committed to “reform and opening up.”

The US can somehow say this with a straight face. Washington is entitled to restrict Chinese firms on an industrial scale, but when Beijing does the same, even on a marginal level, then it’s evidence that China is not reliable for investment. Even as microchip firms point out the damage that disastrous policies of the US are causing, Washington seems to have either no self-awareness, or an extreme sense of self-entitlement, which, as has been discussed many times, gives it the almost divine right to impose on others rules it doesn’t feel obliged to follow itself.

This is an indication of how the US sees its right to exploit China’s own markets. American ties with China have always been conditional, on the premise that Beijing would gradually transform its political system and economy to fall in line with US preferences. In the 1980s and 1990s, during China’s era of “reform and opening up,” the US believed – due to its ideological overconfidence after its victory in the Cold War – that China was changing and was destined to reform.

In this light, free market economics was seen as an evangelically transformative force which, with the onset of capitalism, naturally led to liberal democracy. Thus, there was never a premise of “engaging” China on its own terms, it always had to “lead” to something. By the 2010s, it became clear that this was not going to happen. Not only did China’s political system not change, but its economic trajectory and industries continued to grow in a way which threatened the foundations of American hegemony. US foreign policy subsequently shifted to now trying to “force” China to change and containing it.

The US, of course, loves the idea of trade with China and its markets, as long as such trade is conducted entirely according to Washington’s preferences. That is, to have China’s market to exploit as a subordinate to the US, and to prevent China from having its own world-leading industries. This mindset has created a visible contradiction in political rhetoric: that China “must” open up its markets more for Western goods, but at the same time must be locked out of Western markets in certain areas. China’s resistance to this is decried as so-called “unfair” economic practices.

Because of this, the only kind of “engagement” the US wants with China is that which is completely one-sided, such as being forced to order $200 billion in US farm goods per annum (as Trump envisioned), but being banned from the US semiconductor market. This is also why the US demands that even as its own companies lose market share in China, other countries, like South Korea

, should have no right to take up that lost share.

The US is not interested in compromise, only capitulation. Thus, trade with China is really only conditional on either ideological transformation, or if that fails, a surrender to total exploitation, turning China into a neoliberal state which is completely open and gutted of industries, possibly complete with a small clique of very wealthy pro-Western oligarchs who sell out the country.

The US-China economic relationship is directed, on Washington’s side, by a sense of ideological entitlement. We can blacklist your companies and even coercively ban third countries from using any Chinese technology, but don’t even think about limiting one of our own firms. Or else.

China New Breakthrough and Policy Puts China 10 Years Ahead of The US In The EV Industry

https://youtu.be/TE5bdqyWbs4

Nightmarish Illustrations That Will Have You Hiding Under The Bed

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You have to wonder how Japanese digital artist Ryohei Hase sleeps at night.

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Hailing from Tokyo, Hase effortlessly fuses painting and digital illustrations to bring to life his surrealist and nightmarish fantasy world. He’s revered as an iconic cult figure in the modern day Japanese art world, with his work being displayed in countless exhibitions across the country and featured comics, books, magazines and video games.

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What’s The Dumbest Thing an American Has Ever Said To You? | Part 1

https://youtu.be/No07KOKXqD4

May 27, 2023

By Caitlin JOHNSTONE

60 Minutes Australia has been playing a leading role in saturating Australian airwaves with consent-manufacturing messaging in support of militarising to participate in a US war against China. A segment they ran a year ago is titled “Prepare for Armageddon: China’s warning to the world,” and features an image of Xi Jinping overlaid with war planes and explosions and captioned “POKING THE PANDA”. Another from a year ago is titled “War with China: Are we closer than we think?” Another from ten months ago is titled “China’s new target in the battle to control the Pacific.” Another from six months ago is titled “Inside the battle for Taiwan and China’s looming war threat.” Another from two months ago is titled “Is the Navy ready? How the U.S. is preparing amid a naval buildup in China.”

All of these segments have millions of views on YouTube alone. Now this past weekend 60 Minutes Australia has aired back-to-back segments titled “The real Top Gun: US military in heated stand-off with China” and “Five countries secretly sharing intelligence say China is the №1 threat,” both of which are as jaw-droppingly propagandistic as anything I’ve ever seen.

“It might sound like twisted logic, but military forces everywhere argue that the greater the firepower they possess, the greater the chance of maintaining peace,” opens 60 Minutes Australia’s Amelia Adams. “In other words, massive weaponry is the best deterrent to war. Right now the theory is being tested like never before, and much of it is happening in Australia’s backyard, the Indo-Pacific region. The United States wants the world, and more particularly China, to know of its increasing presence there, and to do that it’s putting on a spectacular show.”

What follows is 19 minutes of overproduced footage displaying this “massive weaponry” while Adams oohs and ahhs and gives slobberingly sycophantic interviews to US military officials.

“There’s something utterly mesmerising about the F-35 jet,” Adams moans. “The sound, the heat, and the power put this supersonic stealth fighter in a league of its own.”

“Colonel these are some very impressive machines you’re in charge of!” she gushes to an officer on an aircraft carrier.

“Yes ma’am,” the colonel replies.

Jesus lady, do your orgasming off camera.

Contrast this glowing ecstatic revelry with Adams’ open hostility later in the segment toward a Chinese think tanker named Henry Wang, claiming that he was trying to “rewrite history” for dismissing panic about a Chinese military buildup by pointing out (100 percent correctly) that China is spending a lower percentage of its GDP on its military than western nations.

“Every command, every maneuver, is being fine-tuned on this vast blue stage, where China has proven to be a bad actor, playing a long game of intimidating Pacific nations,” Adams proclaims over helicopter footage of US war ships. “But the US and its allies aren’t having it, bolstering their defenses — and it’s an impressive display.”

I defy you to find me footage more brazenly propagandistic than this, from any point in history. This is supposed to be a news show, run by people who purport to be journalists, yet they’re engaging in propaganda that looks like it came from a Sacha Baron Cohen spoof of a third world dictatorship.

As I never tire of pointing out , the claim that the US has been militarily encircling its number one geopolitical rival defensively is the single dumbest thing the empire asks us to believe these days. The US is surrounding China with war machinery in ways that it would consider an outrageously aggressive provocation if the same thing were done in its neck of the woods, which means the US is plainly the aggressor in this standoff, and China is plainly reacting defensively to those aggressions.

While the first segment unquestioningly regurgitates Pentagon narratives and gives supportive interviews to military officials, the second segment unquestioningly regurgitates talking points from the western intelligence cartel and gives supportive interviews to Five Eyes spooks.

“Showing off deadly weaponry in massive war games is a tactic China and the United States both use to try to avoid full-on combat,” says 60 Minutes Australia’s Nick McKenzie in introduction. “But the truth is the two countries, as well as other nations including Australia, are already battling it out in an invisible war. There are no frontline soldiers but there are significant skirmishes. Until now these conflicts have been kept quiet, but key members of a secretive alliance of top cops from Australia, the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada and New Zealand are about to change that.”

“Their group is called the Five Eyes, and tonight they want you to know what they see,” says McKenzie, which is the same as saying “We’re telling you what the Five Eyes intelligence agencies told us to tell you.”

McKenzie literally just assembles a bunch of Five Eyes officials to tell Australians that China is bad and dangerous, and then disguises the western intelligence cartel advancing its own information interests as a real news story.

“There is one threat that alarms our partners more than any other,” McKenzie says

over dramatic music, asking “Which state actor is the key threat to democracy in Australia and amongst the Five Eyes partners?” and presenting a montage of western intelligence operatives answering (you guessed it) China.

“The Americans describe a growing menace on our doorstep flowing from China’s increasing influence in the region,” McKenzie says, before asking an American official, “Do you see the Chinese state preying on Pacific island nations?”

“I believe so, yes,” the official responds.

Western journalism, ladies and gents.

Australians are particularly vulnerable to propaganda because Australia has the most concentrated media ownership  in the western world, dominated by a powerful duopoly

of Nine Entertainment (who airs 60 Minutes) and the Murdoch-owned News Corp. This vulnerability is being fully exploited as the time comes for the western empire to beat the war drums against China.

We keep being hammered by this narrative that “massive weaponry is the best deterrent to war,” when all facts in evidence say the exact opposite is true. It was the military encroachment against Russia and the conversion of Ukraine into a NATO military asset which provoked Putin  to invade Ukraine, and all the militarization against China that we are seeing is only inflaming tensions and making war more likely .

And, I mean, of course it is; even a casual glance at the Cuban Missile Crisis reveals that powerful nations don’t take kindly to having menacing forces placed near their borders. So much of the propaganda indoctrination we’re subjected to in the 2020s revolves around convincing people to believe that Russia and China should react completely differently than the way the US would react if foreign proxy forces were being amassed along its borders.

So yes, Amelia Adams, claiming that aggression and militarism is the best path toward peace is absolutely “twisted logic”. It is as twisted as it gets. Because it is false. This is obvious to anyone who hasn’t yet been successfully indoctrinated into this omnicidal belief system.

We need to do everything we can to fight against this indoctrination now, because if we wait until the war actually starts it will likely be too late to resist.

Treasure hunter // open a treasure cave and decipher the mystery of its sign

This guy again. Does he live in an area full of gold?

First of all, in China, all people have significant savings.

Frans Vandenbosch  方腾波

Then, in China, the whole Chinese culture is based on the family. All family members, parents, children, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters, even extended family members will right away (within hours) come to help and provide whatever amount of money to someone of their family in case of emergency.

Without asking for any compensation or pay back.

But if someone of the family is harming the family, then he will be severely punished. In a quite wealthy family (parents and 4 daughters) I know the case of a brother in law who cheated his wife (sister of my friend). He was forced to pay back a significant amount right away and he was fired by his employer. The eldest sister (the family “patriarch”) organised all these punishments.

Also in not-so-wealthy families, I know of similar cases, where an aunt immediately came to help with large amounts of money in an emergency case.

When I once lost my wallet (with passport, money, credit cards, …) in Shanghai, my Chinese friend came to my apartment the same evening with 50 000 CNY cash. And I was her friend, not even a family member.

China And Russia Launch Cutting-Edge Payment System To Challenge Dollar And SWIFT

https://youtu.be/invvouvNejE

When amazing is the norm, and bland is the government narrative

In this unique period of time, we all find ourselves in a period of transition.

The politics of the United States differs substantially from that of the rest of the world. While the “news” media is running amok, and the peoples of the West are just “inches away” from (what could be) open revolt.

If the USA defaults on it’s debt, the USA will die. Period. It will be over.

But if it raises the debt ceiling, that and loss of overall global confidence in the USD will cause inflation to reach unmanageable heights. No matter how you look at it, a shit-storm is coming towards the USA.

The only question is when…

China has tolerated the US non-sense for decades, China today does not need to trade with the US, does not need to use the USD, does not need the US technology, so US sanctions are harmless. China’s military is capable to protect itself, so the US can only attack China’s interest in other countries.

Seriously, I have no idea what the US will do, as it has exhausted its arsenal against China.

Beijing to cooperate with Brussels in investigating sanction-circumventing companies if provided with evidence

So far the EU hasn't substantiated its claims & risks countersanctions, says Fu Cong, Chinese ambassador to the EU. Plus, Ukrainian FM casts doubt over WSJ scoop on Beijing's proposals to Europe
May 29, 2023

Brussels has failed to provide details about certain Chinese companies’ alleged violations of European Union trade sanctions on Russia and refused to work with China in investigating the claims, Fu Cong, the Chinese ambassador to the European Union says.

Thus, Brussels risks a “strong response” from Beijing if it indeed sanctions the Chinese firms, Fu says in an interview with New Statesman by Bruno Maçães, the Portuguese Europe minister from 2013-2015, who describes Fu as “well-regarded in Brussels: most people I meet praise his cunning intelligence.”

Qin Gang, State Councilor and Foreign Minister, has already drawn the line on May 10 in Berlin

China does not sell weapons to parties involved in the Ukraine crisis and prudently handles the export of dual-use items in accordance with laws and regulations. Normal exchanges and cooperation between Chinese and Russian enterprises should not be affected. China resolutely opposes long-arm jurisdiction and unilateral sanctions against other countries in accordance with its own laws, and will take necessary measures to firmly safeguard the legitimate rights and interests of Chinese companies.

At the heart of the potential tit-for-tat that will most certainly, as Maçães correctly observed, “start a spiral of retaliatory sanctions that neither side will be able to stop,” is whether the Chinese companies have engaged in “importing electronic components from Europe in order to re-export them to Russia.”

The Financial Times first reported the EU’s plan on May 8 but unfortunately obscured the crucial justification for potential EU sanction of the Chinese firms that they allegedly imported dual-use goods from the EU and then sold them to Russia. Because the report basically didn’t mention the “import from EU” report until quoting an EU internal document in the seventh paragraph, less informed readers are likely to believe Brussels was trying to impose sanctions simply because of dual-use exports to Russia, which is exactly the Reuters dispatch reporting the FT scoop did.

It’s important to note that there is a major difference between EU sanctions and U.S. sanctions. As Josep Borrell, the EU’s High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, recently clarified on the circumvention of EU sanctions against Russia

We also don’t want to sell technological products and components that Russia needs for its war machine. These are our decisions that are binding EU economic operators. Even if we would like other countries to do the same, we cannot force them, because our ‘sanctions’, are not extraterritorial.

So by the EU’s rules, the key is not exactly whether these Chinese firms have just exported dual-use goods to Russia, but whether they have circumvented the bloc’s trade restrictions forbidding certain goods from the EU to Russia.

Here, the Chinese ambassador says he needs evidence – even in private consultations that haven’t been reported. He even questioned if the potential sanctions would have been ex post facto. From the transcript of the interview published by the Chinese Mission in Brussels (New Statesman has a paywall.)

Fu Cong: First, let me say when it comes to Chinese exports to Russia, China has not provided any military equipment to Russia, and China has exercised extreme caution when it comes to dual-use items. At the same time, China maintains normal economic relations and cooperation with Russia. So these normal economic cooperation and activities should not be interfered with, and it should not be the reason for any coercive measures from any side, either from the US or from the European side. The second point I want to say is that we are against unilateral sanctions without the basis of international law or the authorization of (UN) Security Council resolutions. In particular, we are firmly against the extraterritorial jurisdiction of all these measures. These are our basic positions.

When it comes to these companies, let me be very clear: if the European side imposes sanctions on Chinese companies without providing us with any solid evidence to show that these companies are engaged with activities that may circumvent or that have circumvented the EU sanctions on Russia, then we certainly will retaliate. Because, as a government, we have the obligation and duty to safeguard the legitimate interests of our companies. But let me also emphasize that we want to resolve this issue in a cooperative way. I understand this 11th round of sanctions is aimed mainly at preventing circumvention. If the EU side has evidence that Chinese companies are engaged in such activities, please show us the evidence.

And also, I have a question to ask. Now we know that they want to prevent the circumvention, but when the European companies export those items, was there a requirement in the contract that says that you should not re-transfer these items to Russia or to any other country? Because actually, in our case, if you want to prevent a re-transfer of certain items, we require what we call End-User Certificates (EUCs). So when the transaction was made, was there such a clause? Was there such a requirement? You cannot use a new law to penalize an entity for their actions that happened before this new law entered into force. This is the basic principle of the rule of law, right? So that’s why we say that we need to talk about this. But unfortunately, we have approached the EU side, and we have not been given any clear explanations. One thing they did tell us was that they did not have solid evidence that those companies had re-exported the items they had imported from the EU companies to Russia.

New Statesman: They said they did not?

Fu Cong: They did not. They said that they had noticed a sharp increase in the import of certain items. But I said that there may be legitimate reasons, right? And that’s why I said if you have concerns and if you have evidence, show that to me. Maybe we have a legitimate explanation for that, and we can investigate for you. But unfortunately, the EU side has not picked up or responded to our gesture to resolve this in a cooperative manner. Actually, let me also emphasize that what the EU is saying is that they will put the Chinese entities on the list, which is basically a control list. So in the future, these companies should be companies of concern, and certain items should not be exported to them. They say that this is not an extraterritorial application of their sanctions. But this is exactly the extraterritorial application of sanctions. This is exactly what the US has been doing when they sanction foreign companies: they put foreign companies on what they call the entity list. I’m very sad to see that the EU is copying what the US has been doing in the past years. I would even add that it is in violation of the EU’s own position against the extraterritorial application of national sanctions. They are doing exactly the same as the US in this case. So we have great concern.

Fu has worked very hard to stabilize China-EU relations for the past six months since taking over as Beijing’s envoy in Brussels. European Council President Charles Michel visited Beijing in December and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen in April. High Representative Josep Borrell was supposed to visit Beijing as well (and deliver a speech at the Center for China and Globalization), but unfortunately tested positive for COVID-19 before boarding the plane.

An AI answer

2023 05 29 11 36
2023 05 29 11 36

NASA chief’s ‘cliché’ accusations against China ‘reflect lack of confidence and narrow mindset’

Published: Dec 11, 2022 09:45 PM Updated: Dec 11, 2022 09:36 PM

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2023 05 29 16 08

In an interview released Sunday, the US’ NASA chief once again smeared China’s space missions and vowed to beat China in the “moon race.” The latest barrage of attacks was slammed by Chinese experts as a reflection of a lack of confidence and a dangerous, narrow Cold War mentality in the US.

NASA Administrator Bill Nelson accused China of being “one of the very few nations” that would not be partners with the US and that it is being “very secretive” in terms of space programs in an interview with Nikkei Asia published on Sunday.

In the meantime, Nelson stated that he believes the US will beat China in terms of sending a manned spacecraft to the moon.

The two countries both have similar visions to launch a crewed moon probe in the next decade. China announced that its manned rocket for the mission is expected to be constructed by 2030, while NASA has pushed back its moon landing to 2025 or later.

Nelson’s unsubstantiated accusations fully reflect that the US lacks confidence in its aviation development, experts told the Global Times.

Nelson’s renewed hype of the Chinese aviation threat theory is actually a common NASA trope, spinning an external excuse to spur the US Congress to pass more related budgets, Song Zhongping, a space analyst and TV commentator, told the Global Times on Sunday.

“China has never said it aims to engage in a so-called space race with the US,” he said, noting that the past race with the Soviet Union and Cold War mindset trapped the US.

In fact, publicly attacking China’s space programs has become normal for NASA in the past few months. In September, Nelson accused China of lacking needed transparency over issues. In July, the NASA chief blatantly claimed that China is “trying to occupy the moon.” In May, he said that China stole the US’ space technology.

“These accusations fired by NASA are unfounded and unjustified,” Song said. “China has always had a cooperative and open attitude in the space sector.”

In the 1990s, China launched satellites for other countries and provided space delivery services to other countries. Now, with its space station, return satellites and target vehicles, China has also been providing piggyback services and giving platforms to other countries’ projects.

China issued an action statement in November outlining its plan for promoting further international cooperation on space technology and exploration, working with other countries and international organizations within the framework of the United Nations.

Observers point out that China’s space station is facing all countries in the world that are willing to cooperate, including developing countries, which is the real sense of an international space station. On the contrary, the space station created by the US is precisely a club for the rich, and it is very difficult for developing countries to get their hands on it.

In 2011, the US Congress passed the Wolf Amendment, a law that prohibits NASA to engage in cooperation with China and China-affiliated organizations. “Now that China has moved into the top echelon of space-faring nations with its own innovations, the US is starting to worry even more,” Song said. “The country realizes that China’s momentum is going to be strong and even limitless, which needed to be contained.”

Such a narrow US mindset and approach would not only be unhelpful to the two countries’ technological development, but also could even overshadow the progress of human technology, analysts said.

If the US could treat China as a partner and not as an enemy, it would promote the humankind’s ability to explore space to soar, Song noted.

7-Year-Old Says He Was in 9/11 Plane Crash

A 7-year-old boy remembers falling off of the World Trade Center on 9/11 in this flashback clip from Season 1, Episode 1 of “The Ghost Inside My Child.”

Less than hundred years ago the laws allow the white man to kill Chinese like killing a dog in the U.S. Less than 60 years ago if a white man got on a public transport in the U.S. a coloured person need to give his seat to the white man.

Today many Americans people on QUORA is baffled by my calling a spade a spade. They expect a Chinese sounding name to be submissive and subservient towards Caucasians. Hence they call me all kinds of slur and derogatory names because l refused to be their slave.

US barely can accept another white nation to take over let alone a yellow nation and worst a system they slur and demonised for 78 years overtake them and collapsed their system they fooled themselves into thinking it is the best.

But the truth is the Chinese has overtaken them conclusively and comprehensively and there is no turning back. If anything the U.S. is collapsing harder by the day.

Cajun Crispy Oven-Fried Chicken

Jazz up your weeknight dinner with Cajun spiced panko-coated oven-fried chicken.

cajun crispy oven fried chicken
cajun crispy oven fried chicken

Prep: 10 min | Bake: 20 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup unseasoned panko bread crumbs
  • 1 teaspoon McCormick® Garlic Powder
  • 1 teaspoon McCormick® Paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon McCormick® Thyme Leaves
  • 1/4 teaspoon McCormick® Pure Ground Black Pepper
  • 1 1/4 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts halves
  • 1/4 cup milk
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
  2. Mix panko and seasonings in shallow dish. Moisten chicken with milk. Coat evenly with panko mixture.
  3. Place chicken in single layer on foil-lined 15 x 10 x 1 inch baking pan sprayed with no stick cooking spray. Drizzle with melted butter.
  4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until chicken is cooked through.

Why Is China Banned From ISS? Beijing Launches First Part of Its Own Station

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China successfully launched the first module of its own space station on Thursday, prompting curiosity about why the country does not simply use the International Space Station (ISS), according to Google Search data.The core module of China’s station, which will eventually be known as Tiangong, or the China Space Station (CSS), is the largest spacecraft China has ever developed and is 54.4 feet long, 13.7 feet in diameter, and weighs nearly 25 tons

Once complete, Tiangong will form a T-shape with the core Tianhe module in the middle and laboratory modules docked around it.

Bai Linhou, deputy chief designer of the space station at the China Academy of Space Technology (CAST), told the Xinhua news agency the station is “expected to contribute to the peaceful development and utilization of space resources through international cooperation.”

In 2019, the U.N. confirmed that six experiments were going to be conducted on the CSS involving institutions from Germany, Switzerland, India, Russia and others.

Gu Yidong, chief scientist of the China Manned Space program, told Scientific American: “We do not intend to compete with the ISS in terms of scale.” But the elephant in the room remains: China has never been to the ISS.

As its name suggests, the International Space Station is a global project, even though the vast majority of its inhabitants have come from the U.S. and Russia.

Other countries that have sent astronauts to the ISS include Canada, Brazil, the U.K., the Netherlands, Germany, Belgium, South Korea, Malaysia, Japan and others.

China is conspicuous by its absence from this list, and the reason lies simply in the fact that the U.S. does not want it to be there.

The 2011 Department of Defense and Full-Year Continuing Appropriations Act, which set rules and funding for defense and other U.S. government agencies for that year, states in section 1340 that NASA may not use funds from that division to collaborate in any way with China unless a law specifically authorizes it.

Reuters reported in 2015 that the ban was due to human rights issues and national security concerns.

In 2015, space analyst Miles O’Brien told CNN the idea of the U.S. collaborating with China “gets shut down immediately” whenever it is brought up near Congress, adding that the Chinese Communist Party is “viewed as a government that seeks to take our intellectual property.”

“The Chinese government has always advocated the peaceful use of outer space,” Wang Jin, a spokesman for Beijing’s Ministry of Defense, said at the time.

The future of the ISS is currently uncertain. Partnerships and funding are due to run out in 2024. NASA told the Financial Times this month: “From a technical standpoint, we have cleared ISS to fly until the end of 2028.”

But Russia—one of the station’s most crucial partners—has already said it would withdraw from the program in 2025, marking the end of a significant period of international cooperation.

This Sexy Piece Of Clothing Is Becoming Increasingly Popular In Japan

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This knitted sleeveless sweater with a large cut-back is all the rage in Japan right now, and it’s not hard to see why.

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Robot Inside The Great Pyramid: Reveals a Secret Door in a Shaft

https://youtu.be/C79Vfxqsg5s

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Hidden Chamber in Great #PYRAMID as big as a PLANE Confirmed by New Scan | Egypt

https://youtu.be/p4SrdfnZhnA

15 Fascinating Facts About The Sumerians

The ancient civilization of Sumer never ceases to captivate and intrigue. Scholars and historians are constantly busy uncovering new details and aspects of this civilization, even centuries after the first discoveries were made. Long ago forgotten and buried by sands of time, Sumer and its cities were the first foundations of all human progress and civilization. It is because of this that it never fails to impress. Here are just a few of the most fascinating facts about the ancient Sumerian civilization.

https://youtu.be/Bxxm_nzsO5Y

1. One of the World’s First Functioning Calendars Belonged to the Sumerians

Did you know that the Sumerians were amongst the first to have developed a functioning calendar? It is dated to roughly 2100 BC, and was divided into 12 lunar months, each numbering 29 or 30 days – much like the one we use today. The Sumerians had no weeks in their calendar, but even so they always had holy days and days free from work. These were usually celebrated on the 1st, 7th, and 15th of each month. Of course, each Sumerian city had its own special feast days that were celebrated at different times. Each month began with the sighting of the new moon.

2. Their Efficient Sexagesimal Numeral System is Still in Use

The Ancient Sumerians were skilled mathematicians, and were incredibly advanced for such an ancient time. They developed a numeral system with number 60 as its base. It is known as a sexagesimal numeral system – and it is still in use today! That is why we have 60 minutes in an hour, 360 degrees in a circle, and 60 degrees in an acute angle! The Sumerians developed the system and refined it, and it was later passed on to the Babylonians, and from them to other civilizations in the world. Today it is, of course, not the exact same system, but has many similarities and the same origins!

3. The City-States of Sumer Were Often at War With One Another

The Sumerian world consisted of many semi-independent city states, which were often very close to one another – almost within sight. But even so, they were not strangers to conflict. War was a staple of Sumerian life, and each city had its own standing army. When disputes over borders became an issue, it came to blows and bloodshed. One of the earliest depictions of Sumerian warfare was discovered on the Standard of Ur, an elaborate scene discovered in the tomb of King Ur-Pabilsag. Another important depiction is found on the Stele of the Vultures, which depicts warriors arranged in a phalanx formation. It is possible that the Sumerians invented this military tactic.

4. They Penned One of the First Epic Poems in History

One of the world’s first epic poems comes to us from the Sumerians. One would think that such an ancient civilization had little taste for poetry and arts. But that would be quite wrong to assume. The Sumerians were highly advanced for their time, and thus penned down the world’s first epic poem – the Epic of Gilgamesh . Centered on a mythical hero and his exploits, the poem was literally carved in stone: preserved in clay tablets upon which the lines were carefully incised. Containing both mythical human heroes as well as gods and supernatural beings, the Epic of Gilgamesh is a great insight into the culture and the beliefs of the ancient Sumerians, allowing us to better understand their affinities and aspects of their everyday life.

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2023 05 29 16 33

Tablet V of the Epic of Gilgamesh. ( CC BY-SA 4.0 )

5. The Remnants of their Vast Civilization Were Long Forgotten to History

Sumerian civilization thrived for many centuries, but it eventually succumbed to invasions by Semitic-speaking Amorians and the Akkadian-speaking Babylonians. Slowly it began disappearing, losing its identity and lapsing into distant memory. The Sumerian language remained as a seldom-used sacred language, until it too disappeared for good. Centuries rolled on, turning into millennia, and Sumer was fully forgotten by mankind. It wasn’t until the 1800s that the diligent work of mainly British archeologists brought to light the tattered remnants of this pioneering world civilization. Scholars began piecing together the puzzle of Sumer’s identity, from scratch, until they finally understood what they were dealing with. So, after being forgotten for thousands of years, Sumer once again returned to the spotlight.

6. Sumer’s Eridu Was the World’s First City

Sumer, being one of the world’s first advanced civilizations, naturally had the world’s first cities. Sure, they weren’t cities as we know them today: they were more like urban settlements that grew around great temples and ziggurats. And one of the very first of the Sumerian cities was Eridu. Today, it is considered as one of the very first Sumerian settlements, which also grew into one of the most powerful city-states.

Eridu was situated just 12 kilometers (8 mi) from Ur, almost within sight of it. When it was built, the city was situated roughly on the coastline, with the Persian Gulf stretching before it. Now, many millennia later, the ruins of the city are situated far inland.

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2023 05 29 16 3s3

The Great Ziggurat of Ur, built during the Third Dynasty of Ur (c. 2100 BC), dedicated to the moon god Nanna. (Hardnfast/ CC BY 3.0 )

7. Clay Tablets Perfectly Preserve the History of Sumer

Between 500,000 and 2,000,000 Sumerian clay tablets have been excavated to date, with only a part or them read and researched. They were the widely used medium by ancient Sumerians – with paper not being invented, soft clay tablets were the next best thing.

With special reed pens, cuneiform writing was carefully incised. Once baked, the clay tablet remained solid and durable. Everything and anything was written on these tablets: stories, poems, accounts, complaints, letters, diplomatic exchanges, treaties, histories, and so on. Today, clay tablets provide one of the most important insights into the lives and practices of ancient Sumerians, and are an invaluable historic heritage. One of the largest libraries of clay tablets was found in the remains of the Library of Ashurbanipal, the last great Assyrian King. The ruins contained over 30,000 unique clay tablets.

8. The Ancient Sumerians Invented the Plow and Heralded Progress

There is no doubt that the plow is one of the most important creations of mankind. This tool was the driving force before all progress in the world. And it is believed that the Sumerians invented it, as early as 3100 BC. The plow allowed them to harness the power of domesticated animals, and thus till the land and ensure fertile crops. This was a revolution for agriculture, of industry and progress. The plow quickly spread across the world, thoroughly reshaping it in the process. The Ancient Egyptians soon adopted it as well. At first, it was a crude wooden tool, but it was refined over the centuries.

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2023 05 29 16 34

Leonard Woolley holding the hardened plaster mold of the Sumerian Queen’s Lyre, 1922. ( Public Domain )

9. Oldest Surviving Stringed Instruments Were Found at Ur

The Sumerians were known for their innovations and inventions, some of which defined later civilizations. One of these could have been the stringed instrument, more specifically the lyre. While it is not known for certain whether the lyre was a Sumerian design, it is certain that those discovered at Ur are the world’s oldest surviving instruments. The lyres, exquisitely made and decorated, were found squished and fragmented, but have been painstakingly rebuilt. They are dated to roughly 2550 BC, which makes them more than 4500 years old! The lyres – more specifically harps – were discovered in the Royal Cemetery of Ur, in a lavish tomb that belonged to a high-ranking woman, likely a queen. Made with wood, silver, gold, and other quality materials, they were most certainly a symbol of power and prestige, and confirm to us that the Sumerians knew and loved music and arts.

10. Beer Was the Staple Food of Every Sumerian

Everyone loves a cold pint of beer on a hot summer’s day, right? The Sumerians certainly did – they were extremely fond of beer and brewing. So much so, that they had a goddess of just that – brewing and beer.

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2023 05 29 16 34t

 

Impression of a Sumerian cylinder seal from the Early Dynastic IIIa period (ca. 2600 BC). Persons drinking beer are depicted in the upper row. ( Cuneiform Digital Library Journal )

Her name was Ninkasi, and she was revered by all the beer drinkers in ancient Sumer. It is important to note that ancient beer was not like modern beer: it was thick and mushy, and very nutritious, and likely not too cold. The Sumerians consumed it through special straws and strainers. Beer was consumed by both the commoners and the nobles, and was brewed in very large quantities. Clay tablets with special brewing recipes were recovered, as well as tablets that record the rationing of beer for workers. That’s right: in Sumer, workers were paid by a daily ration of tasty and nutritious beer. Could be worse.

11. Men of Sumer Had a Distinct and Recognizable Hairstyle

Did you know that the Sumerians sported a unique hairstyle? Many reliefs and depictions of common men of Sumer show them wearing their hair short on the sides and back, and curly and longer on the front! Otherwise, a lot of depictions show them completely bald and beardless. This could have been a trend in their society. In the ancient world, hairstyles and beards were often a distinct mark of a tribe or a society. To differentiate themselves from the neighboring cultures, the Sumerians likely adopted such unique hairstyles.

12. In Their Long History, They Had Just One Queen

The Sumerian King List is a literary work composed around 2000 BC, and preserved on several clay tablets. It lists the cities of Sumer, their kings, and the lengths of their reigns. It helped scholars to learn more about the various rulers of ancient Sumer. And virtually all of the rulers on the lists are men – kings. Yet there is one woman on the list: Queen Kubaba . Before coming to the throne, she was apparently a brewess – producing beer for commercial use. She was the queen of Kish, an important city-state in ancient Sumer. She was followed on the throne by her son Puzur-Suen, and grandson, Ur-Zababa. Sumer wasn’t solely a man’s world after all.

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2023 05 29 16 3t5

Relief of Queen Kubaba, only woman to make the King’s List.  ( Public Domain )

13. World’s Earliest Customer Complaints Were Found in Ur

With advanced civilizations, come advanced tricksters. Ea-Nasir was a rich copper trader from the city of Ur, but his business practices were far from ideal. During the excavation of the city ruins, one house – Ea-Nasir’s – had a room full of clay tablets received from disgruntled customers. Apparently, Ea-Nasir would take money for quality copper ingots, but send poor quality ones instead. This resulted in a number of customer complaints against him. The most famous is the complaint from the merchant in Dilmun, whose messengers were treated badly, and his shipment of copper never arrived. Studying the numerous tablets, scholars deduced that Ea-Nasir wasn’t really troubled by these complaints, and continued to ignore them repeatedly.

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2023 05 29 16 36

An example of a cuneiform tablet. ( homocosmicos/Adobe Stock)

14. Sumerian Cuneiform is the World’s Earliest Writing System

The Sumerians were advanced in so many ways. Needless to say, one of their most important inventions was writing. Their cuneiform alphabet is amongst the world’s earliest writing systems. At first, it was just a number of symbols and images that were meant to represent words and actions. Over time, it evolved into a complex writing system that consisted of numerous tiny wedges. Incised with a special stylus, these symbols were written on soft clay tablets, which were then baked and hardened. It was an efficient, elaborate, and advanced writing system that was far ahead of its time.

Today, scholars are able to learn so much about ancient Sumer, thanks to the deciphering of the cuneiform script in the 19th century. It was, however, a painstaking process, and the script itself was an utter mystery for several centuries after its discovery.

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2023 05 29 16 3ru6

The god Utu from the Tablet of Shamash ( CC BY-SA 1.0 )

15. Each City-State of Sumer Had Its Own Patron God

Ancient Sumer was divided into a number of semi-independent city-states. Some of the most powerful of these were Ur, Bad-Tibira, Eridu, Shuruppak, Sippar, Lagash, Kish, Nippur, and others. And each of these cities had its own patron deity, its protector and benefactor. There were lavish temples devoted to these gods in each city, as well as large pyramid-like ziggurats. There were around 7 principal Sumerian deities, and hundreds of minor ones. For example, Sippar was the cult-site of the Sun God Utu (Shamash to Akkadians), while Shuruppak was the city of goddess Ninlil.

15 Biggest African Songs That Broke The Internet in 2022

Sons of God: Sumerian Elite Ruling Sumerian Class Abducting Khabiru Women

Translators, theologians, and biblical commentators provide many different theories to explain who the Bible is referring to as “the sons of God,” “the Nephilim,” “the men of renown,” and “the daughters of men,” but archaeology from ancient Mesopotamia adds a whole new layer of biographical perspective of these biblical figures.

Sons of god
Sons of god

The passage in question is in Genesis 6:4-5, and refers to an epoch before the great flood. According to most versions, it tells there were giants upon the land in those days, and after that. It is presumed that “after that” means after the great flood, so whoever these giants were, they were on earth before and after the flood.

It goes on to say that those giants were on earth whenever ‘the sons of God’ visited the ‘daughters of men’ and they fathered children for themselves.

It also explains that “those were the giants who were from long ago, the people of renown.”

Thinking back to ancient legends and myths, it takes no stretch of the imagination to see characters like Hercules and Perseus, or as is found in the ancient Sumerian myths of Gilgamesh and Dumuzi, and similar characters from nations all over the world, as heroes of old.

That is exactly what these ancient characters were, heroes of old and men of renown.

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The Qumran Book of Giants tells the story of pre-diluvian origins of evil and the fate of the Watchers and their giant offspring. Fallen Angel by Odilon Redon, (1872). (Public Domain)

The texts of the Old Testament were preserved through a few different channels. The most commonly available text of the Old Testament today came from groups of Jewish scribes in the 10th century AD called the Masoretes.

The Masoretic Text is the one that was used as the source for most modern translations of the Old Testament, although this source text contains many problems and inconsistencies when it comes to early biblical genealogies and the dates given for events and lifespans.

The Israelite Samaritan Torah is a parallel source text that potentially date back to the sixth century BC, but unfortunately only contains the first five books of the Old Testament.

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New discovery inside Great Pyramid of Giza reveals hidden secrets

The Menehune of Hawaii – Ancient Race or Fictional Fairytale?

Menhune of Hawaii
Menhune of Hawaii

In Hawaiian mythology, the Menehune are said to be an ancient race of people small in stature, who lived in Hawaii before settlers arrived from Polynesia. Many scholars attribute ancient structures found on the Hawaiian Islands to the Menehune. However, others have argued that the legends of the Menehune are a post-European contact mythology and that no such race existed.

The mythology of the Menehune is as old as the beginnings of Polynesian history. When the first Polynesians arrived in Hawaii, they found dams, fish-ponds, roads, and even temples, all said to have been built by the Menehune who were superb craftspeople. Some of these structures still exist, and the highly-skilled craftsmanship is evident.  According to legend, each Menehune was a master of a certain craft and had one special function they accomplished with great precision and expertise. They would set out at dusk to build something in one night, and if this was not achieved, it would be abandoned.

Some scholars, such as folklorist Katharine Luomala, theorize that the Menehune were the first settlers of Hawaii, descendants of the Marquesas islanders who were believed to have first occupied the Hawaiian Islands from around 0 to 350 AD. When the Tahitian invasion occurred in about 1100 AD, the first settlers were subdued by the Tahitians, who referred to the inhabitants as ‘manahune’ (which means ‘lowly people’ or ‘low social status’ and not diminutive in stature). They fled to the mountains and later came to be called ‘Menehune’.  Proponents of this theory point to an 1820 census which listed 65 people as Menehune.

Luomala claims that the Menehune are not mentioned in pre-contact mythology and therefore the name does not refer to an ancient race of people. However, this argument holds little weight as most accounts of the past were passed down through word-of-mouth from one generation to the next.

If Luomala, and other scholars in her camp, is correct, and there was no ancient race of skilled craftspeople that predated the Polynesians, then there must be an alternative explanation for the ancient constructions of advanced design, which predated any known population in Hawaii. However, no alternative explanations exist and most history books still maintain that the Polynesians were the first inhabitants of Hawaii, some 1,500 years ago. So let’s examine some of the ancient constructions that have been attributed to the Menehune in the mythology of the region.

Alekoko Fishpond Wall at Niumalu, Kauaʻi

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Alekoko, Kauai: Menehune Fishpond. Photo source .

The Alekoko Fishpond, sometimes called the Menehune Fishpond, is one of the finest examples of ancient Hawaiian aquaculture. A lava rock wall between the pond and the Hulei’a River, which is 900 feet (274 m) long and 5 feet (1.5 m) high, was built to create a dam across a portion of the river in order to trap young fish until they grew large enough to consume.  The stones that were used come from Makaweli village, some 25 miles (40 km) away. It is considered to be an unexplained engineering achievement and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1973.

Hawaiian legend states that the pond was built in one night by the Menehune, who formed an assembly line from the fishpond location to Makaweli, passing stones one-by-one from start to end point.

The Ceremonial Site of Necker Island

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2023 05 29 16 4d4

Heiau at Mokumanamana (Necker Island). Photo source .

Necker Island is part of the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands. Few signs of long-term human habitation have been found. However, the island contains 52 archaeological site with 33 ceremonial heiau (basalt upright stones), believed to be celestially oriented, and stone artifacts much like those found in the main Hawaiian Islands.  The heiau vary only slightly in design, but generally feature rectangular platforms, courts and upright stones. One of the largest of these ceremonial sites measures 18.6 meters by 8.2 meters. Eleven upright stones, of what are believed to be the original 19, are still standing.

Many anthropologists believe that the island was a ceremonial and religious site. According to the myths and legends of the people of Kauai, which lies to the southeast, Necker Island was the last known refuge for the Menehune.  According to the legend, the Menehune settled on Necker after being chased off Kaua’i by the stronger Polynesians and subsequently built the various stone structures there. Visits to the island are said to have started a few hundred years after the main Hawaiian Islands were inhabited, and ended a few hundred years before European contact.

The Kīkīaola Ditch at Waimea, Kauaʻi

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2023 05 29 16 4dj4

 

Kikiaola facing stones. Photo source .

Kīkīaola is a historic irrigation ditch located near Waimea on the island of Kauai. Also known as the Menehune Ditch, it was added to the National Register of Historic Places on November 16, 1984.  Hawaiians built many stone-lined ditches to irrigate ponds for growing taro (kalo), but very rarely employed dressed stone to line ditches. The 120 finely cut basalt blocks that line about 200 feet of the outer wall of the Menehune Ditch make it not just exceptional, but “the acme of stone-faced ditches” in the words of archaeologist Wendell C. Bennett. It is purported to have been built by the Menehune.

To date, no human skeletal remains of a physically small race of people have ever been found on Kaua’I or on any other Hawaiian islands. While this does not disprove that a race of small people existed, it does draw the truth behind the legend into question. Nevertheless, there is compelling evidence, both archaeological and in the numerous legends passed down over generations, that suggests that there was indeed an ancient race of highly skilled people who inhabited the Hawaiian islands long before the Polynesians arrived.

By April Holloway

Analyzing the North Face Corridor of the Great Pyramid

Cajun Beer Can Chicken

Yield: 4 servings

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2023 05 28 16 13

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) chicken
  • 1 (12 ounce) can beer
  • 4 teaspoons dry Cajun seasoning, divided

Instructions

  1. Using a bottle opener, make three more openings in the top of the can. Empty 1/3 of the beer out to make it only 2/3 full of liquid. Lightly oil the exterior of the can with vegetable oil.
  2. Wash chicken inside and out and pat dry with paper towels. Sprinkle 2 teaspoons of dry Cajun seasoning (optional) into the cavity and two teaspoons over the outside of the chicken. Put a little foil on the tips of the leg bones to prevent blackening.
  3. Set up gas or charcoal grill for indirect grilling. For charcoal grills, mound briquettes into two piles on opposite sides of grill. Light. Heat only one side of gas grill, at a temperature of 350 degrees F.
  4. Stand the beer can on an aluminum pie plate, piece of aluminum foil or special beer can chicken roasting pan. Carefully ease the chicken onto the can, and spread drumsticks away from the body to support the bird in a tripod position. Add chicken, locating the bird between the two piles of charcoal on charcoal grills, or on the side away from heat on gas grills. Cover the grill and barbecue chicken over indirect heat for about 1 1/2 to 2 hours, or until the breast meat reaches 165 degrees F.
  5. Remove chicken carefully, as there may be hot liquid remaining in the can.

Vintage Photos of Ugly Restaurants in the USA From the Mid-20th Century

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The 1950s was a truly unique moment in time. Fresh out of World War II, the world – and North America in particular – were embracing prosperity and a strong economy, built and spurred on by the war.

More and more people were able to access the finer things in life in the 1950s. The times were also a period of conflict – and therefore, of thought and reinvention. The ongoing war on communism in the United States, as well as the Civil Rights Movement, exposed a division in American society.

The world was embracing automation, efficiencies, and simplicity, all with roots in nostalgia, old school familial values, and a distinct pining for prosperity. In the retail and hospitality industries specifically, the 1950s cemented itself as a vibrant time in consumer culture. Restaurants and eateries began to develop their own unique culture and way of doing things – all dependent on the year-to-year pulse of greater society.

h/t: vintag.es

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China is too big.

It’s population is five times the size of the USA. (Not four times, as some commenters like to repeat.) Geographically, it’s land mass is larger than the United States (minus the empty tundra of Alaska.). And there are more people in China that speak English than the entire rest of the world combined.

China is enormous.

New York City is a mere 6 million people. China has 200 cities larger than that.

A small rural village in China is larger than Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

It’s hard enough for a nation to assure compliance, reduce crime, and create a level playing field for everyone to play upon, but the easy way and the most effective way, is to monitor everyone by AI.

Not by person, but notice trends and actions.

And since China has done this all kinds of crime was nearly eliminated, government corruption fell immediately, and everyone now has “a set at the table”.

Ultimately, the hoarding of money is the cause of so much misery in this world. And those that become very rich are the causes of much of the world’s unhappiness. Hoarding money and turning into billionaire oligarchy is difficult to do without harming and hurting others. And with AI monitoring, the people are assured that it will never happen. The AI searches for people doing bad things. Finds them. Punishes them, and if necessary isolates and eliminates them.

Of course, it’s NOT perfect, but a work in progress. As we used to say in the ‘States; “Rome wasn’t built in a day”.

But at least 1.4 billion people can sleep with roofs over their heads, eat good meals, have reasonable and affordable healthcare, not worry about layoffs on Friday, and live in crime-free areas.

To that I say; It is worth it.

China plans to perform a crewed lunar landing before 2030. What do you think of this goal?

As it appears, China will be the first nation to put men on the moon.

Notes:

  • There is overwhelming evidence that NASA did not put men on the moon in 1969, nor in the subsequent missions. To paraphrase the head of the Russian space program; “We sent lunar orbiters over the supposed landing sites repeatedly, and there’s nothing there.” Believe what you may. The vast bulk of the world considers the United States to be thieving, lying, and mischievous rogue nation. As time moves on, peoples throughout the globe question the supposed actions and accomplishments of the United States. Indeed, this is a debatable subject, but this is not the place for that debate.
  • NASA plans to put a progressively diverse crew on the moon this decade. It will be on a spacecraft that superficially looks like the Apollo spacecraft, but uses technologies not available during the 1960’s. This crew will attempt some trivial “science experiments”, perform some “crowd pleasing” antics, and return home (supposedly) reinvigorated and proud United States.
  • The Chinese strategy in space exploration is for long-term objectives, and is proceeding in a systematic step-by-step progression. It is boring, but methodical. The Lunar outpost will consist of members selected from the Global South, and will be the beginnings of a long-duration colony as a step towards (already planned) Mars colonization efforts.
  • You can expect that the Chinese WILL visit the supposed Apollo landing locations. They will do so in 3D, high definition color and 7G technology. What they will discover will be broadcast to the world. If they find nothing, and that is what is expected, the implications will be extraordinary.

The UnXplained: Mystery of Devil’s Tower

A giant fossilized tree stump?

It’s the cope. The United States is in “coping mode”.

The United States people, and upper classes are coping with the changes. These coping mechanisms vary from acceptance, to defiance! Which many in denial. Polls of the Republican presidential candidates are all 100% in favor of going to war with Mexico.

Or Haiti…

Plus China, once a war with Russia is over.

Obviously the “ruling classes” are out of touch.

Hahaha , do I believe this strange utterance of Biden?

No, I don’t believe any word he said.

It is like the slyvester saying to the pussy cat : “ I am harmless , cutie, come, let’s play together”. US treasury bond funds in the US is in danger of ending up as toilet paper.

China is told by the US treasury not to redeem anymore treasury bond funds.

Just this year , the US suggesting that Japan to install US missiles, telling countries not to sell lithography machines and computer chips to China , and then now saying that the thawing of the cold war against China is thawing… ‘ really soon’… incredible!

Cat Saves Woman’s Life

That the Chinese and Hong Kongers chose peace instead all those democratic and freedom bullshit.

Shake my goddamn head.

And people wonder why I’m not as sacred as Democrats compared to Republicans.

If the U.S. try this stunt, it will be the biggest mistake that they could ever make. In one strike China will wiped off the entire 12 aircraft carriers anywhere in earth. Next it will attack and military base the attacking force it comes from.

China and a dozen nation will take revenge action simultaneously throughout the world. And god help Japan and Japanese people if it is foolish enough to allow a bow and arrow attack from Japanese soil. South Korea take note too.

China will hit the U.S. mainland the moment the U.S. touch a stone in China. China will hand such a big hiding the U.S. will never be the same again for a century. Of if you wish let’s all die together in a total nuclear war.

So god help America if you are foolish enough.

WOW! CHINA Just Dumped 972 Billion US Dollars To Crash The US Economy – Peter Schiff

This is a very good video, and well worth your watch.

This is by far the best explanation I've heard on this subject. AND a big thumbs up on your graphics presentation.

It’s an obvious answer. Even the most pro-war, anti-China hawks recognize this fact. Which is why RAND has “cooked up” various suppression strategies designed to cripple China.

The idea behind these strategies is to weaken China to a point where it collapses, and then the oligarchic vultures can flock in and loot China at will. Previous methods were tried in the past.

Perhaps the most successful was the “century of humiliation”…

  • Use military force to enter China, and then force the government to become your proxy. Then, get the population hooked on drugs and loot, and rape the nation until it holds nothing left of value.

Since that dark period, there were other efforts…

  • A military operation to seize China though Korea. This is known as the “Korean War”, and inside America it is known as a “strategic victory”. Though, in reality, it is an absolute failure, and the Chinese kicked the American invasion forces to a small toehold in Southern Korea where they sued for peace.
  • After that fiasco, President Truman ordered the carpet bombing of China with Biological weapons. Failed, but most of the last 70 years involved various aspects of this effort against China.
  • Soros, and Bloomberg tried on multiple occasions to seize the Chinese banks and wrest financial control over China. And did they fail! Lordy! I’m surprised that they didn’t keel over and die from the shock that some nation was smart enough to see what they were doing.
  • Economic sanctions, tariffs and trade restrictions have been the hallmarks and “calling card” for most conservative members of the United States. China pretty much brushes off the efforts with a big shrug and a “meh”.
  • Color revolutions, NED sponsored, and many CIA direct interventions have occurred. From Hong Kong, to Xinjiang, to Tibet, to Inner Mongolia. All of which have failed.

The current plan is to encircle China. Then sanction it so that no one would trade, and if they tried, the United States would start sinking ships.

Crafty huh?

Not really, by the time when everything is at 70% readiness “good to go”, the most likely outcome is [1] a betrayal of the proxy nations in favor of their own survival, [2] emerging high technologies that will render Western might impotent, and [3] a generalized mega collapse domestically inside of the United States.

If it wasn’t for the massive propaganda machine, all of this would be quite obvious to the West.

Not that I want those things to happen, but the trend lines are clear, and they haven’t deviated from the 2008 prediction vectors one iota.

Chinese researchers find way to manufacture highly flexible, paper-thin solar cells

Published: May 25, 2023 10:14 PM

Chinese researchers have developed a special technology to tailor the edges of textured crystalline silicon (c-Si) solar cells, based on which the solar cells can be bent and folded like thin paper, allowing for broader application and use.

The breakthrough was achieved by Chinese researchers at the Shanghai Institute of Microsystem and Information Technology (SIMIT) under the Chinese Academy of Sciences. The results have been featured on the cover of the May 24 edition of Nature journal.

The c-Si solar cells fabricated with the new technology can be 60 millimeters thin with a bending radius of about 8 millimeters.

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c93b985c c7f9 453b 91c4 40a2cace487e

 

Highly flexible, paper-thin c-Si solar cells Photo: Courtesy of the CAS

According to the Technology Daily, c-Si solar cells are type of solar cell seeing fast development at the moment. They have advantages including long service life and high conversion efficiency, making them a leading product in the photovoltaic market.

Such c-Si solar cells have a market share of more than 95 percent, according to Di Zengfeng, deputy head of the SIMIT, who is one of the authors of the research paper.

Although c-Si solar cells were developed nearly 70 years ago, their use is still limited, the paper explained. Currently, the c-Si solar cells are mainly used in distributed photovoltaic power stations and ground photovoltaic power stations. Hopefully, such solar cells can be used in construction, backpacks, tents, automobiles, sailing boats and even planes.

They can also be used to generate clean energy for houses and a variety of portable electronic and communication devices as well as for transportation, according to the researchers.

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db24c943 4227 4491 aa87 b779b81a5eca

Highly flexible, paper-thin c-Si solar cells Photo: Courtesy of the CAS

Liu Zhengxin, a research fellow with the SIMIT, and another author of the paper, said that the study verified the feasibility of mass production, providing a technical route for the development of lightweight and flexible c-Si solar cells.

At the same time, the large-area flexible photovoltaic modules developed by the research team have been successfully applied in the fields of near-space vehicles, building photovoltaic integration and vehicle-mounted photovoltaic systems, Liu said.

Alabama needs some help

The Korean war.

In the early 1950’s, the United States (fresh from fighting World War II), along with its allies invaded Korea. The stated reasons were “democracy”, “freedom” and “fighting Communism”. Of course. The real reason was to attack and seize China while it was still weak. Then, from that captured territory, place military bases on the Russian Southern flank for an eventual World War 3.

Well, the Korean war was a fiasco. The United States lost bigly.

In fact, the losses were so very horrific, that the retreat became a rout. And the piles of equipment and stockpiles in warehouses had to be bombed remotely, by the sea and the air, to prevent capture. (This is by definition a rout. Remote demolitions of abandoned material is a characteristic of a rout.)

General Douglas MacArthur was so upset and defeated that he demanded that President Truman start using nuclear weapons on China, but Truman refused.

Instead President Truman initiated a multi-decade long campaign of carpet bombing China with bio-weapons. (Which didn’t do much to China, except make it very VERY resilient to bio-weapon attacks.)

This kind of stealth; passive-aggressive, attacking continued for decades. Well into the 1970s.

So when the 1960s rolled around, the United States was busy fighting on China’s Southern borders; Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. All trying to obtain a “toe hold” there. But Chinese-backed Vietnamese forces were putting up a good fight.

You must realize that at that time, with a hostile and unstable SE Asia, and a very VERY pissed off China, the United States was in no way ready to take on China. Because over the decades of covert hostilities, the Chinese grew stronger, and angrier with each passing month.

So in the 1960s and into the 1970s, the United States did not attack China overtly. It’s not that the United States did not want to attack China. It is just that it simply could not. China was a very formidable fighting force, and the anticipated American (and allied) losses would have been enormous.

Adidas jumped on the Anti-China Uighur/Xinjiang cotton train.

Adidas has had 2 years of market share decline.

Whoopsie!

main qimg 23a52924c60801d1a518e161ea9a17a4
main qimg 23a52924c60801d1a518e161ea9a17a4

The US loves drama as long as they are not the ones directly involved.

They want diplomacy so that they can avert war.

No such thing.

War is the whole point now.

***

The real reason America was so angry over COVID, was that they knew they deserved it.

They deserved a China that was willing to take blood revenge to their doorstep, retaliating and escalating against their attempts to destroy China with a bona fide attempt to destroy USA back.

China wasn’t that kind of country; the response from China was a relatively placid ‘no you!’ to USA.

If it was up to me, I’d be saying that we are delivering blood revenge to USA and the West for the trade war.

What can they do about us striking back? Nuke us? They can’t.

Fuck with us? We’ll make another 10 more viruses. Enjoy lockdown.

***

We want them to know that every misstep potentially leads to nuclear war.

We want them to know that we are done talking and now will fight.

We want them to know that we are one step away from blood revenge.

Pragmatic?

Nope, blood revenge it is.

The blood debt must be repaid in full with interest.

Robert, divorce? Nope. There was never a relationship. The US is like a stalker and a sexual harasser still trying to convince the world it ever had a relationship with China, that China is a hostile ex. No such thing. The US is the stalker here.

Bayou Baked Chicken

2023 05 28 11 37
2023 05 28 11 37

Ingredients

  • 2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 whole chicken, cut up
  • 3 large potatoes, cut into cubes
  • Cajun seasoning
  • 1 onion, cut into large pieces
  • 1 bell pepper, cut into strips
  • 1/2 cup minced garlic
  • 1/2 cup parsley
  • 1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 envelope Lipton onion soup mix

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 450 degrees F.
  2. Place flour in bottom of large greased baking dish.
  3. Arrange chicken and potatoes in dish, seasoning on both sides with Cajun Seasoning.
  4. Add onion, bell pepper, garlic, parsley and Worcestershire sauce.
  5. Sprinkle Lipton onion soup mix on top.
  6. Put in oven and broil until chicken is brown on top.
  7. Reduce heat to 300 degrees F, cover with aluminum foil and bake for one hour.

Look into this report

The Covid-19 coronavirus was “intentionally released” by the United States in Wuhan,

China, with the target to trigger a global pandemic to raise public acceptance of vaccines, a US businessman specializing in patent auditing said.

2023 05 29 06 28
2023 05 29 06 28

David Martin, the founding chairman of M Cam asset management company, said at an International Covid Summit organized by the European Parliament in Brussels

earlier this month that the US was responsible for the making of both coronaviruses causing the outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome – or SARS – in 2003 and the Covid-19 pandemic in the past three years.

Pro Fighters Put Obnoxious Jerks in Their Place

Gorgeous Photos Make Star Wars Toys Look Like Real, Life-Sized Ships

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Manufacturers of toys all over the world should be advertising their products with photos like these. Photographer Vesa Lehtimäki is responsible for these beauties; he’s been photographing his kid’s toys over the years and he makes shots that look like they belong in movies. His images of the various vehicles of Star Wars are especially impressive.

More info: Flickr

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The internet is everywhere in China. It’s fast. It’s free. It’s in the elevators, in the toll booths, on the bridges, in the train stations, on the subway.

It’s in the stalls, and on the streets. It’s in the farmer’s markets and on the farms.

Everyone uses it because it’s a requirement to get anything done. All public services are APP driven. Even beggars use wechat QR to get donations.

That being said, let’s suppose that world war 3 erupts and China loses internet….

What will happen is 200 million people will set up their own intranets as temporary workarounds, and the internet will be restored in no time at all.

China is so very unlike the West that it just boggles the mind.

U.S. Postal Carrier: “19 People Have Died on my Mail Route in Last 4 Months”– Vax Jabbed!

A U.S. Postal Mail Carrier has released a video explaining that on her route of 460 homes, it is average for one or two people to die each year, but in the last four months, NINETEEN people on her route have died!  She thinks it’s the Vax. . .

One minute long video, below:

TRANSCRIPT Of Dr David E.Martin’s Speech At The European Union Parliament MAY 2023

It is a, it is a particularly interesting location for me to be sitting today, given that over a decade ago I sat in this very chair right here in the European Union Parliament.

And at that time I warned the world of what was coming, during that conversation that was hosted at the time by the Green and EFA and a number of the other parties of the European Unions, of various representations.

We were having a conversation on whether Europe should adopt the United States policy of allowing for the patents on biologically derived materials.

And at the time I urged this body and I urged people around the world that the weaponization of nature against humanity had dire consequences.

Tragically, I sit here today, with that unfortunate line that I don’t like to say, which is “I told you so.”

But the fact of the matter is, we’re here not for a reprisal on past decisions. We’re here to actually, once again, come to the face of the human condition and ask the question, who do we want to be?

What do we want humanity to look like?

And rather than seeing this as an exercise in futility, which is very easy from time to time when you’re in the position I’m in, I actually see this not as an exercise in futility.

I see this as one of the greatest opportunities that faces us because we now have a public conversation, which is now front and center in people’s minds.

When this was an esoteric conversation about biological patents, nobody cared.

But when that conversation came home, then it became something people can care about.
So I’m actually quite grateful for this opportunity.

I thank the members of Parliament for hosting this.

I thank all of the translators who I apologize in advance.

I will use terminology that is probably very difficult to translate, so my apologies, and I’d also like to acknowledge the fact that many of you are aware of my involvement with this in large part due to the amazing work of my wonderful wife, Kim Martin, who encouraged me at the very early days of this pandemic to get on front of the camera and talk about all the information that I had been sharing among very small groups around the world.

And it was in fact her encouragement that put me in a place where many of you have heard what I have to say.

Ironically, the world that I came from that used to be very popular, my CNBC and Bloomberg presentations, which were televised on mainstream media around the world, was an audience that I lost.

I can confidently say Covid diminished my fame, but I can also confidently say that I’d rather stand among the people with whom I’m standing today than any of the folks that were part of that previous world.
So, this is a much better place to be.

My role today is to set the stage for this conversation in a historical context, because this did not come in the last three years.

This did not come in the last five or six years.

This actually is an ongoing question that probably began here in Europe in the early stages of the mid 19 hundreds, but certainly by 1913, 1914, this conversation started right here in Central Europe.

The pandemic that we alleged to have happen in the last few years also did not happen overnight.

In fact, the very specific pandemic using coronavirus began in a very different time.

Most of you don’t know that Coronavirus as a model of a pathogen was isolated in 1965.

Coronavirus was identified in 1965 as one of the first infectious, replicatable viral models that could be used to modify a series of other experiences of human condition.

It was isolated once upon a time associated with the common cold.

But what’s particularly interesting about its isolation in 1965 was that it was immediately identified as a pathogen that could be used and modified for a whole host of reasons.

And you heard me correctly, that was 1965.

And by the way, these slides are public domain.

You’re welcome to look at every single reference.

Every comment that I made is based on published material.

So do make sure that you look at those references.

But in 1966, the very first COV Coronavirus model was used as a transatlantic biological experiment in human manipulation, and you heard the date 1966.

I hope you’re getting the point of what I’m saying.

This is not an overnight thing.

This is actually something that’s been long in the making.

A year before I was born, we had the first Trans-Atlantic coronavirus data sharing experiment between the United States and the United Kingdom.

And in 1967, the year I was born, we did the first human trials on inoculating people with modified coronavirus.

Isn’t that amazing?

56 years ago, the overnight success of a pathogen that’s been 56 years in engineering, and I want that to chill with all of you.

Where were we when we actually allowed in violation of biological and chemical weapons treaties?
Where were we as a human civilization when we thought it was an acceptable thing to do to take a pathogen for the United States and infect the world with it?

Where was that conversation and what should have been that conversation in 1967?

That conversation wasn’t had. Ironically, the common cold was turned into a chimera in the 1970s, and in 1975, 1976 and 1977, we started figuring out how to modify coronavirus by putting it into different animals.
Pigs and dogs.

And not surprisingly, by the time we got to 1990, we found out that coronavirus as a infectious agent was an industrial problem for two primary industries, the industries of dogs and pigs.

Dog breeders and pigs found that Coronavirus created gastrointestinal problems, and that became the basis for Pfizer’s first spike protein vaccine.

Patent filed. Are you ready for this In 1990?

Did you hear what I just said?

Operation Warpspeed.

I’m sorry.

Where’s the warp and the speed?

Pfizer 1990.

The very first spike protein vaccine for Coronavirus.

Isn’t that fascinating?

Isn’t it fascinating that we were, we were told that, well, the spike protein is a new thing.

We just found out that that’s the problem.

No.

As a matter of fact, we didn’t just find out it was not just now.

Now the problem, we found that out in 1990 and filed the first patents on vaccines in 1990 for the spike protein of Coronavirus.

And who would’ve thought Pfizer?

Clearly the innocent organization that does nothing but promote human health.

Clearly, Pfizer, the organization that has not bought the votes in this chamber, in every chamber of every government around the world, not that Pfizer, certainly they wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, but oh yes, they did.

And in 1990 they found out that there was a problem with vaccines.

They didn’t work.

You know why they didn’t work?

It turns out that Coronavirus is a very malleable model.

It transforms and it changes, and it mutates over time.

As a matter of fact, every publication on vaccines for Coronavirus from 1990 until 2018, every single publication concluded that Coronavirus escapes the vaccine impulse because it modifies and mutates too quickly for vaccines to be effective.

And since 1990 to 2018, that is the published science ladies and gentlemen, that’s following the science, following the science is their own indictment of their own programs that said, it doesn’t work.

And there are thousands of publications to that effect, not a few hundred. And not paid for by pharmaceutical companies.

These are publications that are independent scientific research that shows unequivocally including efforts of the chimera modifications made by Ralph Bair in the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill.

All of them show vaccines do not work on coronavirus.

That’s the science, and that science has never been disputed.

But then we had an interesting development in 2002, and this date is most important because in 2002, the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill patented, and I quote, an infectious replication defective clone of coronavirus.

Listen to those words …

Infectious replication, defective.

What does that phrase actually mean?

For those of you not familiar with language, let me unpack it for you.
Infectious replication.

Defective means a weapon.

It means something meant to target an individual but not have collateral damage to other individuals.
That’s what infectious replication defective means.

And that patent was filed in 2002 on work funded by NIAD’s Anthony Fauci from 1999 to 2002, and that work patented at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill mysteriously preceded SARS 1.0 by a year.
“Dave, are you suggesting that SARS 1.0 wasn’t from a wet market in Wuhan?”

“Are you suggesting it might have come from a laboratory in the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill?”
No, I’m not suggesting it.

I’m telling you that’s the facts we engineered SARS.

SARS is not a naturally occurring phenomenon.

The naturally occurring phenomenon is called the common cold.

It’s called influenza-like illness.

It’s called gastroenteritis.

That’s the naturally occurring coronavirus.

SARS is the research developed by humans weaponizing a life system model to actually attack human beings, and they patented it in 2002.

And in 2003, giant surprise, the CDC filed the patent on Coronavirus isolated from humans in violation once again of biological and chemical weapons, treaties and laws that we have in the United States, and I’m very, very precise on this.

United States likes to talk about its rights and everything else, and the rule of law and all the nonsense that we like to talk about, but we don’t ratify treaties about, I don’t know, defending humans.

We conspicuously avoid that we actually have a great track record of advocating for human rights and then denying them when it comes to actually being part of the international community, which is a slightly problematic thing.

But let’s get something very clear.

When the CDC, in April of 2003 filed the patent on SARS Coronavirus isolated from humans, what did they do?

They downloaded a sequence from China, and filed a patent on it in the United States.

Any of you familiar with biological and chemical weapons treaties knows that’s a violation.

That’s a crime.

That’s not an innocent, oops; that’s a crime.

And the United States Patent Office went as far as to reject that patent application on two occasions until the CDC decided to bribe the patent office to override the patent examiner to ultimately issue the patent in 2007 on SARS Coronavirus.

But let’s not let that get away from us, because it turns out that the RT PCR, which was the test that we allegedly were going to use to identify the risks associated with coronavirus, was actually identified as a bioterrorism threat by me in the European Union sponsored events in 2002 and 2003, 20 years ago that happened here in Brussels and across Europe.

In 2005, this particular pathogen was specifically labelled as a bioterrorism and bioweapon platform technology, described as such.

That’s not my terminology that I’m applying to it.

It was actually described as a bioweapons platform technology in 2005.

And from 2005 onwards, it was actually a bio warfare enabling agent.

It’s official classification from 2005 forward.

I don’t know if that sounds like public health to you, does it?

Biological warfare enabling technology that feels like not public health, that feels like not medicine, that feels like a weapon, designed to take out humanity.

That’s what it feels like, and it feels like that because that’s exactly what it is.

We have been lured into believing that EcoHealth Alliance and DARPA and all of these organizations are what we should be pointing to.

But we’ve been specifically requested to ignore the facts that over $10 billion have been funnelled through black operations, through the check of Anthony Fauci and a side-by-side ledger where NIAD has a balance sheet, and next to it is a biodefense balance sheet.

Equivalent dollar for dollar matching that no one in the media talks about, and it’s been going on since 2005.
Our gain of function moratorium.

The moratorium that was supposed to freeze any efforts to do gain of function research.

Conveniently, in the fall of 2014, the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill received a letter from NIAD saying that while the gain of function moratorium on coronavirus in vivo should be suspended, because their grants had already been funded, they received an exemption.

Did you hear what I just said?

A biological weapons lab facility at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill received an exemption from the gain of function moratorium so that by 2016 we could publish the journal article that said SARS Coronavirus is poised for human emergence in 2016 and what, you might ask Dave, was the coronavirus poised for human emergence?

It was WIV ONE.

Wuhan Institute of Virology Virus One.

Poised for human emergence in 2016 at the proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, such that by the time we get to 2017 and 2018, the following phrase entered into common parlance among the community, there is going to be an accidental or intentional release of a respiratory pathogen.

The operative word, obviously in that phrase, the word release, does that sound like leak?
Does that sound like a bat and a Pangolin went into a bar in the Wuhan market and hung out and had sex?
And, and lo and behold, we got SARS Cov-2.
No accidental or intentional release of a respiratory pathogen was the terminology used.

And four times in April of 2019, seven months before the allegation of patient number one, four patent applications of Moderna were modified to include the term accidental or intentional release of a respiratory pathogen as the justification for making a vaccine for a thing that did not exist.

If you have not done so, please make sure that you make reference in every investigation to the premeditation nature of this, because it was in September of 2019 that the world was informed.
That we were going to have an accident or intentional release of a respiratory pathogen so that by September, 2020 there would be a worldwide acceptance of a universal vaccine template.

That’s their words right in front of you on the screen.

The intent was to get the world to accept a universal vaccine template, and the intent was to use coronavirus to get there.

Let’s, let’s read this because we have to read this into the record everywhere I go.

“Until an infectious disease crisis is very real present and at the emergency threshold that is often largely
ignored to sustain the funding base beyond the crisis.”

He said, “we need to increase the public understanding for the need for medical countermeasures, such as a pan influenza or pan coronavirus vaccine.”

“A key driver is the media and the economics will follow the hype. We need to use that hype to our advantage to get to the real issues. Investors will respond if they see profit at the end of the process.”
Sounds like public health.

Sounds like the best of humanity.

No.

Ladies and gentlemen, this was premeditated domestic terrorism stated at the proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in 2015, published in front of them.

This is an act of biological and chemical warfare perpetrated on the human race, and it was admitted to in writing that this was a financial heist and a financial fraud.

“Investors will follow if they see profit at the end of the process.”

Let me conclude by making five very brief recommendations.

The last slide, nature was hijacked.

This whole story started in 1965 when we decided to hijack a natural model and decide to start manipulating it.

Science was hijacked when the only questions that could be asked were questions authorized under the patent protection of the CDC, the FDA, the NIH, and their equivalent organizations around the world.

We didn’t have independent science.

We had hijacked science, and unfortunately there was no moral oversight in violation of all of the codes that we stand for.

There was no independent, financially disinterested independent review board ever empanelled around coronavirus.

Not once, not once, not since 1965.

We do not have a single independent IRB ever empanelled, around Coronavirus.

So, morality was suspended for medical countermeasures, and ultimately humanity was lost because we decided to allow it to happen.

Our job today is to say, no more gain of function research period.

No more weaponization of nature period.

And most importantly, no more corporate patronage of science for their own self-interest unless they assume 100% product liability for every injury and every death that they maintain.

Thank you very much.

Dr David E. Martin

How Native Hawaiians have been pushed out of Hawai’i

Relatively few. The reason is because most Westerners have been indoctrinated to believe that China is a brutal Communist dictatorship that seeks global dominion, thanks to Western mainstream media.

The ones who know better have:

  • visited China and gained a greater understanding of the country
  • studied Chinese history and culture
  • learned that China hasn’t fought a war in the last 44 years, making it the only world power in history to have been so peaceful for so long
  • understood that China has gained no new territory since the Qing Dynasty over 200 years ago — various parts of China have temporarily changed hands during this period, for example, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Tibet

main qimg 7c5bdbb237754812045f282c0a3bf732 pjlq
main qimg 7c5bdbb237754812045f282c0a3bf732 pjlq

  • witnessed China’s benevolence — helping countries build infrastructure, helping countries vaccinate when the West hoarded their vaccines, leading peaceful alliances such as BRICS, RCEP and SCO, working to establish peace such as the recent Saudi-Iran peace deal and the peace plan proposal between Russia and Ukraine, helping the USA during the 2008 GFC

China is the exact opposite of the USA, which has fought dozens of wars in the last half century, including notably Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria. Is the USA a peaceful country?

20 SIGNS Walmart is Collapsing Before Our Eyes!

https://youtu.be/J5oUOYLoatQ

China’s New Quantum Computing Breakthrough SHOCKS American Scientists.

A semiprime number is the product of two prime numbers. You probably know that semiprime numbers are used as keys in coded internet protocols like RSA.

If someone did produce a quantum computer that could factor a large semiprime number into its two prime factors, the whole internet would be compromised. That someone could hack into everyones’ secure data like at banks and corporations. Before a quantum computer can factor a semiprime number, it must be able to do simple calculations. Back in the day, transistors had to do simple calculations, like 2 X 2, before complex calculations. Video 1 is about China's scientists' progress on quantum computers. China's quantum computers can solve pretty complicated mathematical problems. Some of these videos can have hyperbolic names, However, China’s scientists may have shocked other scientists in the field. China is kicking America's butt in many fields like artificial Suns. China recently smashed the world record for the length of time its scientists kept an artificial Sun going at 403 seconds.

China’s artificial sun is called a tokamak. China’s tokamak is nothing short of spectacular. Artificial Suns are the future of energy.
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If China did produce a quantum computer that could factor a large semiprime number into its two prime factors, China could hack into secure data all over the world. I’m not suggesting China would do that, but it could if its quantum computers could factor a large semiprime number.

Footnotes

Airpods Emit Wireless Radiation

Prevent color revolution/coup (that is instigated by the West). Take steps to:

1, suppress terrorism

2, suppress division of citizens due to ethnicity

3, suppress radicalization of religion

Central Asia is located between Russia & China. It is a hot spot for USA+UK to instigate color revolution in name of ethnic or religious (Muslim) minority. Just like Uyghurs in Xinjiang.

Color revolution is a topic the West seldom talks about. But USA+allies has been QUIETLY doing so for decades. So as to subvert a government that does not “obey” USA. So as to control other’s strategic soverignty, economy & natural resources. … it is modern-day colonization without occupying land.

Look at the orange revolution in Ukraine in 2004. We were told the then pro-Russia president was corrupted.

Until Putin pushed for a resolution in UN Security Council against Nazism (got passed) that we learnt the West+new Ukraine government plotted to eliminate Russian-speaking & Hungarian-speaking Ukrainians. That … is cultural if not ethnic genocide.

Xi An Declaration does not detail how the West stirs unrest in other country. Let me tell you.

Cultural infiltration. It is a quiet Cold War that you wont notice.

NED is a spin-off from CIA. Like religion, NED-funded NGOs spread US culture to other cultures.

Britain once said: NED helps US expansion.

US NGOs fund & recruit local NGOs to gather different groups of people. All have a moral high ground eg democracy, freedom, human & animal rights, climate change, LGBTQ & more. To make people think they are fighting for Righteous. Any cultures different from USA is evil & should be eliminated. “My god is true & yours is false”.

When time is ripe, the NGOs will instigate a mass of people to start the unrest/riot/coup/wars.

One NGO is free press/radio whose job is to spread fake news. Create hatred & fear of local government. Or Russia, China, Iran etc are evil.

Some color revolutions have no name eg 2002 Xinjiang with ethnic Uyghurs & Muslim.

Some have names eg Arab Spring in Middle East, Rose revolution in Georgia, Tulip revolution in Kyrgyzstan, democracy movement in Hongkong.

Even US allies are not immune from US-led riots eg France’s yellow vest riot.

I always advise people: before fighting for “Righteous” for other country, sort out if it is a US-led color revolution which actually is modern-day colonization.

Remember: millions died or lost their homeland/heritage in US color revolution.

3 MINUTES AGO, Ukraine Just Started WW3 With This!

https://youtu.be/1_d369R9e9o

America’s wars and the US debt crisis

May 25, 2023

To surmount the debt crisis, America needs to stop feeding the Military-Industrial Complex, the most powerful lobby in Washington.

In the year 2000, the U.S. government debt was $3.5 trillion, equal to 35% of the Gross Domestic Product (GDP). By 2022, the debt was $24 trillion, equal to 95% of GDP. The U.S. debt is soaring, hence America’s current debt crisis. Yet both Republicans and Democrats are missing the solution: stopping America’s wars of choice and slashing military outlays.

Suppose the government’s debt had remained at a modest 35% of GDP, as in 2000. Today’s debt would be $9 billion, as opposed to $24 trillion. Why did the U.S. government incur the excess $15 trillion in debt?

The single biggest answer is the U.S. government’s addiction to war and military spending. According to the Watson Institute at Brown University, the cost of U.S. wars from fiscal year 2001 to fiscal year 2022 amounted to a whopping $8 trillion, more than half of the extra $15 trillion in debt. The other $7 trillion arose roughly equally from budget deficits caused by the 2008 financial crisis and the Covid-19 pandemic.

To surmount the debt crisis, America needs to stop feeding the Military-Industrial Complex (MIC), the most powerful lobby in Washington. As President Dwight D. Eisenhower famously warned on January 17, 1961, “In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.” Since 2000, the MIC led the U.S. into disastrous wars of choice in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Libya, and now Ukraine.

The Military-Industrial Complex long ago adopted a winning political strategy by ensuring that the military budget reaches into every Congressional district. The Congressional Research Service recently recently reminded that, “Defence spending touches every Member of Congress’s district through pay and benefits for military service members and retirees, economic and environmental impact of installations, and procurement of weapons systems and parts from local industry, among other activities.” Only a brave member of Congress would vote against the military-industry lobby, yet bravery is certainly no hallmark of Congress.

America’s annual military spending is now around $900 billion, roughly 40% of the world’s total,, and greater than the next 10 countries combined. U.S. military spending in 2022 was triple that of China. According to Congressional Budget Office, the military outlays for 2024-2033 will be a staggering $10.3 trillion on current baseline. A quarter or more of that could be avoided by ending America’s wars of choice, closing down many of America’s 800 or so military bases around the world, and negotiating new arms control agreements with China and Russia.

Yet instead of peace through diplomacy, and fiscal responsibility, the MIC regularly scares the American people with a comic-book style depictions of villains whom the U.S. must stop at all costs. The post-2000 list has included Afghanistan’s Taliban, Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, Syria’s Bashar al-Assad, Libya’s Moammar Qaddafi, Russia’s Vladimir Putin, and recently, China’s Xi Jinping. War, we are repeatedly told, is necessary for America’s survival.

A peace-oriented foreign policy would be opposed strenuously by the military-industrial lobby but not by the public. Significant public pluralities already want less, not more, U.S. involvement in other countries’ affairs, and less, not more, US troop deployments overseas. Regarding Ukraine, Americans overwhelmingly want a “minor role” (52%) rather than a “major role” (26%) in the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. This is why neither Biden nor any recent president has dared to ask Congress for any tax increase to pay for America’s wars. The public’s response would be a resounding “No!”

While America’s wars of choice have been awful for America, they have been far greater disasters for countries that America purports to be saving. As Henry Kissinger famously quipped, “To be an enemy of the United States can be dangerous, but to be a friend is fatal.” Afghanistan was America’s cause from 2001 to 2021, until the U.S. left it broken, bankrupt, and hungry. Ukraine is now in America’s embrace, with the same likely results: ongoing war, death, and destruction.

The military budget could be cut prudently and deeply if the U.S. replaced its wars of choice and arms races with real diplomacy and arms agreements. If presidents and members of congress had only heeded the warnings of top American diplomats such as William Burns, the U.S. Ambassador to Russia in 2008, and now CIA Director, the U.S. would have protected Ukraine’s security through diplomacy, agreeing with Russia that the U.S. would not expand NATO into Ukraine if Russia also kept its military out of Ukraine. Yet relentless NATO expansion is a favourite cause of the MIC; new NATO members are major customers of U.S. armaments.

The U.S. has also unilaterally abandoned key arms control agreements. In 2002, the U.S. unilaterally walked out of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty. And rather than promote nuclear disarmament—as the U.S. and other nuclear powers are required to do under Article VI the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty—the Military-Industrial Complex has sold Congress on plans to spend more than $600 billion by 2030 to “modernise” the U.S. nuclear arsenal.

Now the MIC is talking up the prospect of war with China over Taiwan. The drumbeats of war with China are stoking the military budget, yet war with China is easily avoidable if the U.S. adheres to the One-China policy that properly underpins U.S.-China relations. Such a war should be unthinkable. More than bankrupting the U.S., it could end the world.

Military spending is not the only budget challenge. Ageing and rising healthcare costs add to the fiscal woes. According to the Congressional Budget Office, debt will reach 185 percent of GDP by 2052 if current policies remain unchanged. Healthcare costs should be capped while taxes on the rich should be raised. Yet facing down the military-industrial lobby is the vital first step to putting America’s fiscal house in order, needed to save the U.S., and possibly the world, from America’s perverse lobby-driven politics.

Cat protects homeowner

US Geopolitics: Believing Impossible Things

Back in the day when raiders were putting fear in the hearts of Corporate America, merger & acquisition pros were business media stars. One of the top shops back then, Lazard Frères, prided itself in its skills in abnormal psychology, aka managing CEOs. One of its most important bits of advice to them was danger of believing your own PR.

In corporate America, there’s a decent risk that fakery will get caught out by competitors, short sellers, whistleblowers, and just plain careful reading of audited financials. That said, Jack Welch kept reality at bay for a very very long time, to the detriment not only of GE but also his many imitators.

By contrast, in politics, reality avoidance is routinely the key to a long and successful-looking career, witness Eurocrats’ fondness for “kick the can” strategies. And that propensity is particularly dangerous when leadership groups have become both selfish and short-termist. There really was once upon a time some people who went into government service for the service part, and not for the revolving door and networking. There was also a time, before the rise of global elites, where the powerful had ties to particular physical communities and some took interest in their betterment. In other words, while there were plenty of self-promoting and mediocre people at the helm, there were often enough in the room who were concerned about long-term risks to put a check on the worst behavior.1

But now, the well-honed effectiveness of propaganda has encouraged politicians and their media amplifiers/allies to go hog wild with selling Big Lies. And the worst is there are no consequences for the perps. After the first systematic use of large-scale propaganda, by the Creel Committee during what was then called the Great War, was uncovered, the US public was aghast. In a comparatively short time, this multi-channel campaign turned American opinion from unconcerned to rabidly anti-German with fabricated atrocities, like German soldiers bayonetting babies. There was a lot of soul-searching, as well as rationalizations by the likes of Walter Lippmann of the need for experts to interpret not just technical information but matters of general interest for a citizenry inherently unable to perceive reality due to bias and incomplete information.

Not only has the reliance on tall tale-telling grown, but there has been perilous little self-reflection in the wake of abject fabrications like WMD in Iraq and Russiagate. Instead, it seems that Americans are all too eager to become pupils of the White Queen. From Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass:

“How old are you?” said the queen.

“I’m seven and a half exactly”

“You needn’t say “exactly” the queen remarked : “I can believe it without that. Now I’ll give you something to believe. I am just one hundred and one, five months and a day”

“I can’t believe that!” said Alice.

“Can’t you?” the Queen said in a pitying tone. “Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.”

Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”

“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

The wee problem with the war in Ukraine and the escalating US eye-poking of China is neither is going very well, to the degree that the propaganda started fizzling out very quickly in the Global South and is losing its potency in the West. It’s hard to keep up the pretense of a great inevitable Ukraine victory with Ukraine losing Bakhmut, after Zelensky made it the centerpiece of his Congressional love-fest last December. Oh, but Ukraine is still trying to deny it is lost, as they did for Mariupol and Soledar until well after the fact. Or how about Ukraine shooting 30 Patriot missiles in about two minutes, which is as much as 10% of total annual production for all countries, in an unsuccessful effort to stop a Kinzhal hypersonic missile?2 Or commander-in-chief General Zaluzhny, usually highly visible, being missing in action for weeks, and Ukraine legitimating rumors about him being critically injured in a Russian missile strike by presenting old footage of him as current?

Similarly, trying to bully countries that had no reason to take sides into aligning against Russia and then doubling down on coercion confirmed Putin’s messaging about colonial powers trying to reassert their historical, exploitative roles. This new cold war has seen many countries chose move to the allegedly “undemocratic” side of the Iron Curtain, much to the West’s impotent fury.

The US and NATO have needed to maintain an image of success with Ukraine because it quickly turned into a bizarrely public coalition exercise, with arguments among NATO members about who really ought to empty their stockpiles for the cause, and one suspects not so public discussions about Ukraine refugees. Even though the press in “collective West” countries has mainly been cheerleading the war, albeit with more and more admissions of late that the exercise has gone pear-shaped, there’s a growing sense in the US, and even reportedly in some parts of Europe like Germany, that enthusiasm on the man on the street level is waning.

Another problem is NATO is simply not fit for this purpose. It was designed for defense, with many nations designing their own very compatible weapons, which each requires their own logistics tail (why not better pork-sharing via common designs and divvying of the manufacturing pie, as the EU did successfully with Airbus?). Brian Berletic, Douglas Macgregor, and Scott Ritter have explained repeatedly why deliveries of disparate weapons systems, mainly new to Ukraine, is a prescription for yet more failure. Oh and to the extent NATO forces have seen combat, it’s been in small insurgent wars, and so not helpful in Ukraine.

The balkanized weapon systems are symptomatic of a lack of NATO cohesiveness at the level of institutional design, which is now being tested to destruction by this conflict. Article 5, often incorrectly presented as a “one for all and all for one” mutual defense pact. In fact, all Article 5 obligated member states to do is to taking action as it deems necessary. Each state gets to decide on its own if it wants to commit armed forces…or indeed, anything else.

Similarly, US officials may have told themselves that much of the world regarded China with suspicion due to its often-overheated rhetoric and hypersensitivity to slights. But these self-comforting beliefs about China’s position on the world stage got a big wake up call with China brokering a normalization of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran, and then Syria. Now China is making more trouble by wandering into America’s back yard, as in Europe, and talking up its napkin-doodle Ukraine peace plan. That scheme will go nowhere but China’s campaign has the effect of identifying it trying to end conflicts (as contrasted with the US trying to keep them going) and intensifying already apparent splits among the alliance.

So the US efforts to pretend everything is going swimmingly are now looking a bit frayed. Not to overdo an analogy, but the US seems to be in a weird phase of the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief paradigm, which are denial, anger bargaining, depression, and acceptance. There’s still plenty of denial, witness the someday-gonna-arrive game-changing Great Ukrainian Counteroffensive, following many game-changing weapons deliveries like Bayraktars, Javelins, HIMARS and Leopard tanks, and other efforts at unduly upbeat messaging about generally terrible conditions on the ground. Zelensky has just given two self-sabotaging ire-filled lectures about how he’s entitled to more support and where the hell is it, to the Arab League and G-7.

But to me, the most intriguing is the weird bargaining, which very much like bargaining over death, is bargaining with yourself. For some time, since at least General Mark Milley’s quickly deflated trial balloon last November, there has been more and more talk from pundits and even sometimes from officials how Ukraine should negotiate with Russia, after some sort of retaking of ground so as to better Ukraine’s bargaining position.

Of course, the idea that Russia will do anything more than go through the motions of negotiating for appearances’ sake is delusional. As former Indian diplomat M. K. Bhadrakumar reminded readers in his latest post, Putin warned Ukraine and its backers last July, the longer the conflict lasted, “the harder it will be to negotiate with us.” That was before Merkel and Hollande bragged about their Minsk Accords duplicity, which has led Putin to make embittered statements about what a mistake it had been to try to cooperate.

Putin has a history of endeavoring not to repeat mistakes. Russia was already depicting the US as “not agreement capable” even before the Minsk disclosures. And even if there were a regime change in Washington, Putin has repeatedly seen presidents make commitments to him that they reneged on later. He (perhaps charitably) attributed that to a permanent bureaucracy really being in charge.3

The US is again negotiating with itself in approving having allies supply F-16s to Ukraine, then trying to claim this isn’t an escalation because they won’t be used against Russian territory, ignoring the Russian view that not just Crimea but also the four annexed oblasts are Russian territory. Russia’s tart response, per TASS:

Western countries continue down the path of escalation and Moscow will take their plans to send F-16 aircraft to Ukraine into account, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Alexander Grushko told TASS on Saturday.

“We can see that Western countries continue to stick to an escalation scenario, which carries enormous risks for them. In any case, we will take it into account when making plans. We have all the necessary means to achieve our goals,” he said on the sidelines of the 31st Assembly of the Council for Foreign and Defense Policy, when asked to comment on the possible supplies of F-16 aircraft to Ukraine.

A new flavor of Western copium is the latest idea of a “frozen conflict” per a trial balloon in Politico:

U.S. officials are planning for the growing possibility that the Russia-Ukraine war will turn into a frozen conflict that lasts many years — perhaps decades — and joins the ranks of similar lengthy face-offs in the Korean peninsula, South Asia and beyond.

The options discussed within the Biden administration for a long-term “freeze” include where to set potential lines that Ukraine and Russia would agree not to cross, but which would not have to be official borders. The discussions — while provisional — have taken place across various U.S. agencies and in the White House.

Again, this is intellectual masturbation the US a little too obviously talking to itself. It’s become more and more clear from the Russian side that it must prosecute the war until Ukraine is decisively defeated, which means Russia dictates terms and either installs a puppet regime or somehow manages to tee off the Medvedev scenario of Poland, Hungary and Romania eating big bits of Western Ukraine, leaving only “Ukraine” as Greater Kiev, as in too small to serve as a platform for much of anything.

We have pointed out Russia could create a DMZ, which is not the same as agreeing to one with the West, by creating a very large de-electrified zone which only the Eastern European versions of preppers might inhabit. And now that the West has decided to deploy Storm Shadows, it would have to be at least 250 miles wide so as to keep Russian territory out of strike range.

On China, the US position is just as internally driven and therefore incoherent. As we and others have pointed out, the China hawks have been quietly duking it out with the Russia haters for a while. The implied compromise, that Russia would be dispatched quickly so the US could pivot to China, is not working out. China hardliner Charles Brown is expected to replace Mark Milley at the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but that may not be sufficient to shift the US focus decisively to China and allow for Ukraine to be quietly abandoned. Biden, Blinken and Nuland are heavily invested in the “get Putin” project and are likely to be incapable of abandoning it. And with the US $100 billion or so into this investment, some Congresscritters are likely to demand either results or an explanation.

The latest display on the China front was the decidedly China-hostile G-7 meeting. Admittedly, the official statement was in flabby NGO-speak and did start with a handwave about UN principles and sticking with Ukraine “for as long as it takes”. Even so, the anti-China barbs stood out. For instance:

2. We will champion international principles and shared values by:

…strongly opposing any unilateral attempts to change the peacefully established status of territories by force or coercion anywhere in the world and reaffirming that the acquisition of territory by force is prohibited….

51. We stand together as G7 partners on the following elements, which underpin our respective relations with China:

We stand prepared to build constructive and stable relations with China, recognizing the importance of engaging candidly with and expressing our concerns directly to China. We act in our national interest. It is necessary to cooperate with China, given its role in the international community and the size of its economy, on global challenges as well as areas of common interest.

We call on China to engage with us, including in international fora, on areas such as the climate and biodiversity crisis and the conservation of natural resources in the framework of the Paris and Kunming-Montreal Agreements, addressing vulnerable countries’ debt sustainability and financing needs, global health and macroeconomic stability.

Our policy approaches are not designed to harm China nor do we seek to thwart China’s economic progress and development. A growing China that plays by international rules would be of global interest. We are not decoupling or turning inwards. At the same time, we recognize that economic resilience requires de-risking and diversifying. We will take steps, individually and collectively, to invest in our own economic vibrancy. We will reduce excessive dependencies in our critical supply chains.

With a view to enabling sustainable economic relations with China, and strengthening the international trading system, we will push for a level playing field for our workers and companies. We will seek to address the challenges posed by China’s non-market policies and practices, which distort the global economy. We will counter malign practices, such as illegitimate technology transfer or data disclosure. We will foster resilience to economic coercion. We also recognize the necessity of protecting certain advanced technologies that could be used to threaten our national security without unduly limiting trade and investment.

There’s plenty more in Section 51 but you get the drift of the gist. There’s a lot to lambaste, but I found the “not seeking to harm China” and “not decoupling but de-risking” bits to be particularly rich.

The Financial Times’ interpretation of the G-7 statement, in what at the time was a lead story: G7 issues strongest condemnation of China as it intensifies response to Beijing

Yet somehow Biden thinks all of this nastiness will lead to improved relations, as if China were some sort of battered wife that would meekly accept abuse as better than neglect. From a new story in the pink paper, Joe Biden expects imminent ‘thaw’ in China relations:

Joe Biden has said he expects to see a “thaw” in US relations with Beijing, even as he concluded a G7 summit in Japan that made a concerted effort to counter military and economic security threats from China.

The US president said in a news conference at the end of the three-day summit that talks between the two countries had shut down after a “silly balloon” carrying spying equipment flew over North America in February, before being shot down by the US military.

Yes, the fact that the US and China are now talking is technically an improvement, but that’s not saying much. The “silly balloon” remark comes off as Biden trying to minimize and shift blame for the US hysterical reaction ont China, which is not going to improve matters. And the G-7 was insultingly acting as if it was the upholder of territorial integrity as the US is persistently promoting and funding separatism in Taiwan.

Confirm the notion that any improvement is marginal, the May 12 (as in pre G-7) press conference by China’s Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Wang Wenbin had Agence France-Press quizzing why an 8 hour meeting between CPC Central Committee and Director of the Office for Foreign Affairs Wang Yi and Jake Sullivan produced short readouts. The answer was terse and contained a nugget: “The two sides held candid, in-depth, substantive and constructive discussions on ways to …stabilize the relationship from deterioration.” That points to extremely low expectations on the China side.

The interview also included a detailed complaint about The PRC Is Not a Developing Country Act, passed by the US House, which instructs the Department of State to press the WTO and other international organizations to revoke China’s developing nation status. Wenbin cited key metrics by which China is still a developing nation and argued the US had no authority to seek changes like this.

But the answers were measured until one reporter asked about the expectation that the G-7, as indeed happened, would accuse China of engaging in economic coercion. From the official translation:

If any country should be criticized for economic coercion, it should be the United States. The US has been overstretching the concept of national security, abusing export control and taking discriminatory and unfair measures against foreign companies. This seriously violates the principles of market economy and fair competition.

According to media reports, US government sanctions designations soared by 933% between 2000 and 2021. The Trump administration alone imposed more than 3,900 sanctions, or three per day on average within four years. More than 9,400 sanctions designations had come into effect in the US by fiscal year 2021. The US has slapped unilateral economic sanctions on nearly 40 countries, affecting nearly half of the world’s population.

Not even G7 members have been spared from US economic coercion and bullying. Companies such as Toshiba from Japan, Siemens from Germany and Alstom from France, were all victims of US suppression. If the G7 Summit is to discuss response to economic coercion, perhaps it should first discuss what the US has done. As the G7 host, would Japan express some of those concerns to the US on behalf of the rest of the group who have been bullied by the US? Or at least speak a few words of the truth?

Instead of a perpetrator, China is a victim of US economic coercion. We have been firmly opposed to economic coercion by any country in the world and urge the G7 to embrace the trend of openness and inclusiveness in the world, stop forming exclusive blocs and not become complicit in any economic coercion.

Due to the length of this post, I’ll spare you more Chinese reactions, but the English language government house organ Global Times lays it on thick in G7 has descended into an ‘anti-China workshop’ and Manipulative G7 slammed for exclusiveness, against trend.

Bloomberg shows how this G-7 was less than a rousing success:

Screen Shot 2023 05 21 at 6.27.38 PM
Screen Shot 2023 05 21 at 6.27.38 PM

 

This sort of thing would normally be merely cringe-making, like catching a performance in Britain’s Got Talent where the performer energetically delivered a lousy act, and lacked the self-awareness to know how bad it was. But the stakes are high and we will have to live with the consequences.

Hero cat saves sleeping Florida family from fire

Thank you for your service Gizmo. “When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction.” -Mark Twain.

I received VERY Disturbing information last night . . .

Looks like we have an actual WW3 Date.

My wife and son made their way up here to our home in Pennsylvania yesterday; they arrived around 6:00 PM. They brought with them Postal Mail from the P.O. Box and in that was discreetly-packaged, NATO-related information about the ongoing Russia-Ukraine thing.  I read it.  I am absorbing it.

I will do a story on this later.  It will be detailed.

We’ll be doing the Memorial Day weekend Barbecue thing, but there’s a lot of real work to get done.

We are installing a 100 amp electrical sub-panel for the Kitchen.   Whoever wired the house originally, used ONE (1) 20 amp circuit breaker . . . . for the ENTIRE kitchen.   Everything!   Refrigerator, dishwasher, oven, Microwave, Lights . . . and all outlets.

If you use the toaster when the microwave is on, as the refrigerator kicks-in, POP goes the circuit.  Dishwasher with microwave and try to brew coffee?  POP.  It’s crazy.

So we bought a GE Sub-panel, 3 awg wire, a 100 amp square-D sub panel feed breaker, and will now re-wire the ENTIRE kitchen so that each duplex outlet has its own circuit breaker, the refrigerator will have its own, same with microwave, same with dishwasher, etc.

11:00 AM, the satellite company arrived to re-aim my two satellite uplinks which are fail-overs for the radio show.   So THAT is the final work that had to be done as a result of the new roof going on earlier this week.

Everything is coming along !

Most Propaganda Looks Nothing Like This

Caitlin Johnstone

When most people in the English-speaking world hear the word “propaganda”, they tend to think of something that’s done by foreign nations who have governments that are so totalitarian they won’t even let people know what’s true or think for themselves.

Others understand that propaganda is something that happens in their own nation, but think it only happens to other people in other political parties. If they think of themselves as left-leaning they see those to their right as propagandized by right wing media, and if they think of themselves as right-leaning they see those to their left as propagandized by left wing media.

A few understand that propaganda is administered in their own nation by their own media, and understand that it’s administered across partisan lines, but they think of it in terms of really egregious lies like weapons of mass destruction in Iraq or babies being taken from incubators in Kuwait.

In reality, all are inaccurate understandings of what propaganda is and how it works in western society. Propaganda is administered in western nations, by western nations, across the political spectrum — and the really blatant and well-known examples of its existence make up only a small sliver of the propaganda that our civilization is continuously marinating in.

The most common articles of propaganda — and by far the most consequential — are not the glaring, memorable instances that live in infamy among the critically minded. They’re the mundane messages, distortions and lies-by-omission that people are fed day in and day out to normalize the status quo and lay the foundation for more propaganda to be administered in the future.

One of the forms this takes is the way the western political/media class manipulates the Overton window of acceptable political opinion.

Have you ever noticed how when you look at any mainstream newspaper, broadcast or news website, you never see views from those who oppose the existence of the US-centralized empire? Or those who want to close all foreign US military bases? Or those who want to dismantle capitalism? Or those who want a thorough rollback of the creeping authoritarianism our civilization is being subjected to? You might see some quibbling about different aspects of the empire, some debate over whether we should de-escalate against Russia so we can better escalate against China, but you won’t ever see anyone calling for the complete end of the empire and its abuses altogether.

That’s propaganda. It’s propaganda in multiple ways: it excludes voices that are critical of the established status quo from being heard and influencing people, it amplifies voices (many of whom have packing foam for brains) which support the status quo, and, most importantly, it creates the illusion that the range of political opinions presented are the only reasonable political opinions to have.

The creation of that illusion is propaganda. It’s not something solid that you can point to easily because it’s comprised of an omission of something rather than a concrete thing, but it warps people’s perspectives in ways that have immensely far-reaching consequences. It’s something that doesn’t stand out too sharply against the background, but because people are exposed to it continuously day in and day out, it plays a huge role in shaping their worldview.

Another related method of manipulation is agenda-setting — the way the press shapes public thinking by emphasising some subjects and not others. In placing importance on some matters over others simply by giving disproportionate coverage to them, the mass media (who are propagandists first and news reporters second) give the false impression that those topics are more important and the de-emphasised subjects are less so. As political scientist Bernard Cohen famously observed way back in 1963, the press “may not be successful much of the time in telling people what to think, but it is stunningly successful in telling its readers what to think about. The world will look different to different people depending on the map that is drawn for them by writers, editors, and publishers of the paper they read.”

Ever noticed how the fact that our governments are increasingly tempting nuclear war seems like it ought to be a front-page story pretty much every day of the week, but instead the news is full of stuff like the US presidential race and people arguing over what products Target should sell during Pride Month? That’s agenda-setting.

The press could easily have spent the entire Trump administration screaming about the dangerous aggressions Trump was advancing against Russia instead of calling him a Putin puppet, and mainstream liberals would have fixated on Trump’s warmongering insanity instead of calling him Putin’s cock holster. But that wouldn’t have served the interests of the empire, which had been planning to ramp up aggressions against Russia for years. They set the agenda, and the public fell in line.

Another of the mundane, almost-invisible ways the public is propagandized from day to day is described in a recent video by Second Thought titled “You’re Not Immune To Propaganda“. We’re continually fed messages by the capitalist machine that we must work hard for employers and accept whatever standards and compensation they see fit to offer, and if we have difficulty thriving in this unjust system the fault lies with us and not with the system. Poor? That’s your fault. Miserable? Your fault. Unemployed? Your fault. Overworked? Your fault.

The continual message we’re fed every day is that there’s nothing to rebel against and nothing to oppose, because any problems we’re perceiving are our own fault and not the fault of an abusive, exploitative system which is built to extract profit from the working class and the ecosystem at the expense of both. The system cannot be a failure, it can only be failed.

Then there’s the ideological herding funnel we discussed recently, which herds the population into two mainstream factions of equal size which both prevent all meaningful change and serve the interests of the powerful. Anyone who can’t be herded into either of these mainstream factions is instead herded into fake “populist” factions, which eventually corral them back into the mainstream factions. Those few politically engaged people who can’t be herded toward any of these groups are so small in number that they can simply be marginalized and denied any sizeable platform from which to spread their ideas, and “democracy” does the rest because the majority are supporting the status quo.

Maybe the most consequential of all the mundane, routine ways we’re propagandized is the way the mass media manufacture the illusion of normality in a dystopia so disturbing that we would all scream our lungs out if we could see it with fresh eyes. The way pundits, politicians and reporters will talk about the Biden administration surrounding China with war machinery without also talking about how freakish and horrifying it is that we’re looking at rapidly escalating brinkmanship between nuclear-armed countries. The way American cities are full of homeless people and it’s just treated as a normal and acceptable thing to simply let them stay homeless and push them out of wherever they try to be. The way nothing ever changes no matter who we vote for but we’re still herded into the voting booths and told to vote better.

As a character in the movie Waking Life puts it, “We all know the function of the media has never been to eliminate the evils of the world, no! Their job is to persuade us to accept those evils and get used to living with them. The powers that be want us to be passive observers. And they haven’t given us any other options outside the occasional purely symbolic act of voting — do you want the puppet on the right or the puppet on the left?”

They don’t just tell us what to believe about the world, they tell us what to believe about ourselves. They give us the frameworks upon which we cast our ambitions and evaluate our success, and we build psychological identities out of those constructs. I am a businessman. I am unemployed. My life is about making money. My life is about disappointing people. I am a success. I am a failure. They invent the test of our adequacy, and they invent the system by which we are graded on that test.

Over and over and over again, day after day, we are fed seemingly small messages which add up over time. Messages like,

  • The world works more or less the way we were taught in school.
  • The media have some problems but basically tell the truth.
  • The status quo is working basically fine.
  • Democracy is real and voting is effective.
  • This is the only way things can be.
  • Our government might have its problems, but it’s basically good.
  • You can earn your way into happiness by working harder.
  • You can consume your way into happiness with more spending.
  • If you think the system is dysfunctional, you’re the dysfunctional one.
  • Those who oppose the status quo are weird and untrustworthy.
  • Things might get better after the next election cycle.
  • Any attempt to change things is a silly waste of time.

By feeding us all these simple, foundational lies day after day, year after year from the time we are very young, they lay the groundwork for the more complex, specific lies we’ll be told later on. Lies like “Russia/China/Iran/etc is a real problem and its government needs to be stopped,” or “People are struggling financially right now, but it’s just because times are hard and it can’t be helped.”

All the mundane lies serve as a primer for the lies we’ll be told later, because once our worldview has been shaped by them, our basic human cognitive biases and predisposition to reject information which conflicts with our worldview will ensure that we’ll take on board the information which confirms our biases and reject any evidence against it. They construct our worldviews for us, then let our normal cognitive defense systems protect it.

Their messages don’t even need to be well-evidenced or well-argued, they only need to be repeated frequently due to a glitch in human cognition known as the illusory truth effect which causes us to mistake the feeling of having heard something before with the feeling of something being true.

Add to all this the recent development of things like Silicon Valley algorithm manipulation and the deck becomes stacked against truth even further, because someone’s odds of stumbling across information which conflicts with the propaganda they’ve been fed goes dramatically down. Even if they’re actively searching for information which conflicts the mainstream worldview, algorithms by Google and Google-owned YouTube often make it almost impossible to find.

So that’s what we’re up against. There’s a failure to appreciate just how pervasive and powerful the empire’s propaganda machine is, even among those who are very critical of empire, because propaganda in our society is like water for fish — we’re swimming in it constantly, so we don’t see it. You have to step way, way back and begin examining our situation from its most basic foundations to get any perspective on how all-encompassing it really is.

Finding your way out of the propaganda matrix takes a lot of diligent work, tons of curiosity, the humility to admit you’ve been completely wrong about everything, and more than a little plain dumb luck. But if you keep hacking away at it eventually you get there, and then you can help others get there too. It’s a hard slog, but if our chains are psychological that means they’re ultimately only made of dream stuff. All that needs to happen is for enough of us to wake up.

Cajun Chicken and Dumplings

Yield: 6 servings

2023 05 28 11 39
2023 05 28 11 39

Ingredients

Chicken

  • 1 large chicken
  • 2 quarts salted water
  • 1/4 cup butter
  • 1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
  • 1/2 cup chopped celery
  • 1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
  • 1 pimento, chopped
  • 1/4 cup chopped onion
  • 1 quart milk
  • 2 hard-cooked eggs, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 teaspoon vinegar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/8 teaspoon white pepper
  • 1/8 teaspoon black pepper

Dumplings

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1 teaspoon ground white pepper
  • 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon thyme
  • 1/4 teaspoon oregano
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1 slightly beaten egg
  • 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) softened butter
  • 1 teaspoon olive oil
  • 1/2 cup milk

Instructions

Dumplings

  1. In medium bowl, place flour, salt, garlic salt and ground white and black peppers.
  2. Add cayenne pepper, garlic powder, thyme, oregano and baking powder.
  3. Stir in egg, butter and olive oil.
  4. Gradually stir in milk. Knead dough until soft and smooth; divide into 5 small balls. Roll each ball on floured board until paper thin; cut into strips 1 1/2 inches wide and 3 inches long. Lay strips on wax paper for about 15 minutes before adding to broth.

Chicken

  1. In large saucepan, place chicken and water over medium heat. Simmer about 45 minutes or until fork tender.
  2. Remove chicken, reserving broth. Chop chicken in large pieces, discarding skin and bones; set aside.
  3. In medium fry pan, place butter over low heat.
  4. Add mushrooms, celery, bell pepper, pimento and onion; sauté about 2 minutes.
  5. To broth in saucepan, add milk, hard-cooked eggs, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, cayenne and white and black peppers.
  6. Stir in sautéed vegetables; heat to boil, reduce heat to simmer and add alternating layers of chicken and dumplings, pushing each layer down into broth. Simmer about 15 minutes or until dumplings are tender.
  7. Serve chicken, dumplings and broth in individual bowls.

Taliban Moves Heavy Armor, Troops, to Iran Border

The Afghanistan Taliban is moving troops, and heavy weaponry to the border with Iran and warns it can capture Tehran within days, if Iran does not stop the provocations.

Oh, and all that heavy weaponry and armor. . . . was the stuff “left” there when the US departed Afghanistan.    HMMMMMMM.

Border Clashes broke out between Iranian Border Guards and the Taliban Afghan Army earlier today, with Major Artillery Exchanges occurring and additional Equipment reported to be en-Route towards the Border Region.

So far 2 Iranian Border Guards are said to have been Killed.

According to Local Sources the Iranian Air Force has been placed on High-Alert with preparations being made if the Situation Escalates.

(HT REMARK: Now we finally see why Biden left Afghanistan and also left behind billions of dollars of equipment to the Taliban.)

During today’s clashes, Iranian forces used 60mm mortars to intercept Taliban attacks.

Taliban and Iran border clashes have moved and are now taking place at the Nimruz border checkpoint.

Heavy Fighting is continuing to take place along the Border, with reports from earlier today stating that Taliban Forces utilizing American Towed-Artillery and other Equipment had Captured a Iranian Border Security Post near the City of Zabol.

Cat saves man’s life after fall

Hearing an 80 year old man say “he’s my hero” about a kitten is probably the most wholesome thing I’ll ever see before I die.

The cat dragged the cell phone to the trapped man!

All 700 boxes of transmissions from the Apollo lunar missions are missing WTF

The Apollo landings were of a nature that completely stopped the Soviet Union space program. They had a robust program, that was leaps and bounds better and more complete than the United States program, but suddenly that all ended abruptly when the United States landed on the moon.

But now, in the 2020’s we see just how extensive the network of lies, and slight of hand is, regarding the United States. Everything is a trick. Everything is a lie. Everything is a deception.

Could the Apollo landings be one such lie?

Some of you are probably thinking that everyone has already seen the footage anyway, when it was allegedly broadcast live back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, or on NASA’s website, or on YouTube, or on numerous television documentaries. But you would be mistaken. The truth is that the original footage has never been aired, anytime or anywhere – and now, since the tapes seem to have conveniently gone missing, it quite obviously never will be.

The fact that the tapes are missing (and according to NASA, have been for over three decades), amazingly enough, was not even the most compelling information that the Reuters article had to offer. Also to be found was an explanation of how the alleged Moonwalk tapes that we all know and love were created: “Because NASA’s equipment was not compatible with TV technology of the day, the original transmissions had to be displayed on a monitor and re-shot by a TV camera for broadcast.”

So what we saw then, and what we have seen in all the footage ever released by NASA since then, were not in fact live transmissions. To the contrary, it was footage shot off a television monitor, and a tiny black-and-white monitor at that. That monitor may have been running live footage, I suppose, but it seems far more likely that it was running taped footage. NASA of course has never explained why, even if it were true that the original broadcasts had to be ‘re-shot,’ they never subsequently released any of the actual ‘live’ footage. But I guess that’s a moot point now, what with the tapes having gone missing.

We start with this article…

“It is commonly believed that man will fly directly from the earth to the moon, but to do this, we would require a vehicle of such gigantic proportions that it would prove an economic impossibility. It would have to develop sufficient speed to penetrate the atmosphere and overcome the earth’s gravity and, having traveled all the way to the moon, it must still have enough fuel to land safely and make the return trip to earth. Furthermore, in order to give the expedition a margin of safety, we would not use one ship alone, but a minimum of three … each rocket ship would be taller than New York’s Empire State Building [almost ¼ mile high] and weigh about ten times the tonnage of the Queen Mary, or some 800,000 tons.”—Wernher von Braun, the father of the Apollo space program, writing in Conquest of the Moon

I can see all of you scratching your heads out there and I know exactly what it is that you are thinking: “Why the hell are we taking this detour to the Moon? What happened to Laurel Canyon? Have you completely lost your mind?”

*Sigh*

It all began a few months ago, when I became very busy at my day job as well as with family drama and with what turned out to be a very time-consuming side project, all of which made it increasingly difficult for me to carve out chunks of time to work on the remaining chapters in the series. Over the next two months or so, I pretty much lost all momentum and soon found it hard to motivate myself to write even when I could find the time.

That happens sometimes. Though it sounds rather cliché, ‘writer’s block’ is a very real phenomenon. There are many times when I can sit down at the keyboard and the words flow out of my head faster than I can get them down on the page. But there are also times when producing just one halfway decent sentence seems a near impossible task. This was one of those times.

I found a new source of inspiration, however, when my wife e-mailed me the recent story about the fake Dutch Moon rock, which I and many others found quite amusing, and which also reminded me that I had a lot of other bits and pieces of information concerning the Apollo project that I had collected over the nine years that have passed since I first wrote about the alleged Moon landings. After taking that first look, back in 2000, I was pretty well convinced that the landings were, in fact, faked, but it was perfectly obvious that the rather short, mostly tongue-in-cheek post that I put up back in July of 2000 was not going to convince anyone else of that.

So I contemplated taking a more comprehensive look at the Apollo program. Toward that end, I pulled up my original Apollo post along with various other bits and pieces scattered throughout past newsletters, threw in all the newer material that had never made it onto my website, and then combed the Internet for additional information. In doing so, I realized that a far better case could be made than what I had previously offered to readers.

I also realized that a far better case could be made than what is currently available on the ‘net.

I was rather surprised actually by how little there is out there – a couple of books by Bill Kaysing and Ralph Rene, a smattering of websites and a variety of YouTube videos of varying quality. Virtually all of the websites and videos tend to stick to the same ground covered by Kaysing and Rene, and they almost all use the same NASA photographs to argue the same points. So too do the sites devoted to ‘debunking’ the notion that the landings were faked, and those sites seem to actually outnumber the hoax sites.

While suffering through the numbing uniformity of the various websites on both sides of the aisle, it became perfectly clear that the hoax side of the debate was in serious need of a fresh approach and some new insights. So I began writing again. Feverishly. That does not mean, however, that I have abandoned the Laurel Canyon series. I intend to get back to it quite soon.

And truth be told, while the Apollo story may initially appear to be a radical departure from the ongoing Laurel Canyon series, it actually isn’t much of a detour at all. After all, we’re still going to be living in the 1960s and 1970s. And to a significant degree, we’re probably still going to be hanging out in Laurel Canyon – because who else, after all, was NASA going to trust to handle the post-production work on all that Apollo footage if not Lookout Mountain Laboratory?

I am very well aware, by the way, that there are many, many people out there – even many of the people who have seen through other tall tales told by our government – who think that Moon hoax theorists are complete kooks. And a whole lot of coordinated effort has gone into casting them as such. That makes wading into the Moon hoax debate a potentially dangerous affair.

Remember when Luther (played by Don Knotts) gets taken to court and sued for slander in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken? And don’t try to pretend like you’ve never seen it, because we both know that you have. So anyway, he goes to court and a character witness is called and the guy delivers credible testimony favoring Luther and it is clear that the courtroom is impressed and everything is looking good for our nebbish hero, Luther. Remember what happens next though? On cross-examination, the witness reveals that he is the president of a UFO club that holds their meetings on Mars!

The courtroom, of course, erupts with laughter and all of that formerly credible testimony immediately flies right out the window.

I have already received e-mails warning that I will suffer a similar fate (from people who heard me discussing the topic on Meria Heller’s radio show). Not to worry though – I have somewhat of an advantage over others who have attempted to travel this path: I don’t really care. My mission is to ferret out the truth, wherever it may lie; if at various points along the way, some folks are offended and others question my sanity, that’s not really something that I lose a lot of sleep over.

Anyway, a whole lot of people are extremely reluctant to give up their belief in the success of the Apollo missions. A lot of people, in fact, pretty much shut down at the mere mention of the Moon landings being faked, refusing to even consider the possibility (Facebook, by the way, is definitely not the best place to promote the notion that the landings were faked, in case anyone was wondering). And yet there are some among the True Believers who will allow that, though they firmly believe that we did indeed land on the Moon, they would have understood if it had been a hoax. Given the climate of the times, with Cold War tensions simmering and anxious Americans looking for some sign that their country was still dominant and not technologically inferior to the Soviets, it could be excused if NASA had duped the world.

Such sentiments made me realize that the Moon landing lie is somewhat unique among the big lies told to the American people in that it was, in the grand scheme of things, a relatively benign lie, and one that could be easily spun. Admitting that the landings were faked would not have nearly the same impact as, say, admitting to mass murdering 3,000 Americans and destroying billions of dollars worth of real estate and then using that crime as a pretext to wage two illegal wars and strip away civil, legal and privacy rights.

And yet, despite the fact that it was a relatively benign lie, there is a tremendous reluctance among the American people to let go of the notion that we sent men to the Moon. There are a couple of reasons for that, one of them being that there is a romanticized notion that those were great years – years when one was proud to be an American. And in this day and age, people need that kind of romanticized nostalgia to cling to.

But that is not the main reason that people cling so tenaciously, often even angrily, to what is essentially the adult version of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. What primarily motivates them is fear. But it is not the lie itself that scares people; it is what that lie says about the world around us and how it really functions. For if NASA was able to pull off such an outrageous hoax before the entire world, and then keep that lie in place for four decades, what does that say about the control of the information we receive? What does that say about the media, and the scientific community, and the educational community, and all the other institutions we depend on to tell us the truth? What does that say about the very nature of the world we live in?

That is what scares the hell out of people and prevents them from even considering the possibility that they could have been so thoroughly duped. It’s not being lied to about the Moon landings that people have a problem with, it is the realization that comes with that revelation: if they could lie about that, they could lie about anything.

It has been my experience that the vast majority of the people who truly believe in the Moon landings know virtually nothing about the alleged missions. And when confronted with some of the more implausible aspects of those alleged missions, the most frequently offered argument is the one that every ‘conspiracy theorist’ has heard at least a thousand times: “That can’t possibly be true because there is no way that a lie that big could have been covered up all this time … too many people would have known about it … yadda, yadda, yadda.”

But what if your own eyes and your innate (though suppressed) ability to think critically and independently tell you that what all the institutions of the State insist is true is actually a lie? What do you do then? Do you trust in your own cognitive abilities, or do you blindly follow authority and pretend as though everything can be explained away? If your worldview will not allow you to believe what you can see with your own eyes, then the problem, it would appear, is with your worldview. So do you change that worldview, or do you live in denial?

The Moon landing lie is unique among the big lies in another way as well: it is a lie that seemingly cannot be maintained indefinitely. Washington need never come clean on, say, the Kennedy assassinations. After all, they’ve been lying about the Lincoln assassination for nearly a century-and-a-half now and getting away with it. But the Moon landing hoax, I would think, has to have some kind of expiration date.

How many decades can pass, after all, without anyone coming even close to a reenactment before people start to catch on? Four obviously haven’t been enough, but how about five, or six, or seven? How about when we hit the 100-year anniversary?

If the first trans-Atlantic flight had not been followed up with another one for over forty years, would anyone have found that unusual? If during the early days of the automobile, when folks were happily cruising along in their Model T’s at a top speed of 40 MPH, someone had suddenly developed a car that could be driven safely at 500 MPH, and then after a few years that car disappeared and for many decades thereafter, despite tremendous advances in automotive technology, no one ever again came close to building a car that could perform like that, would that seem at all odd?

There are indications that this lie does indeed have a shelf life. According to a July 17, 2009 post on CNN.com, “It’s been 37 years since the last Apollo moon mission, and tens of millions of younger Americans have no memories of watching the moon landings live. A 2005-2006 poll by Mary Lynne Dittmar, a space consultant based in Houston, Texas, found that more than a quarter of Americans 18 to 25 expressed some doubt that humans set foot on the moon.”

The goal of any dissident writer is to crack open the doors of perception enough to let a little light in – so that hopefully the seeds of a political reawakening will be planted. There are many doors that can be pried open to achieve that goal, but this one seems particularly vulnerable. Join me then as we take a little trip to the Moon. Or at least pretend to.

“If NASA had really wanted to fake the moon landings – we’re talking purely hypothetical here – the timing was certainly right. The advent of television, having reached worldwide critical mass only years prior to the moon landing, would prove instrumental to the fraud’s success.”
Wired Magazine

Adolph Hitler knew a little bit about the fine art of lying. In Mein Kampf, he wrote that, “If you’re going to tell a lie, make sure it’s a really fucking big lie.”

Truth be told, I’m not exactly conversant in the German language so that may not be an exact translation, but it certainly captures the gist of what the future Fuhrer was trying to say. He went on to explain that this was so because everyone in their everyday lives tells little lies, and so they fully expect others to do so as well. But most people do not expect anyone to tell a real whopper … you know, the kind of brazen, outlandish lie that is just too absurd to actually be a lie. The kind of lie that is so over-the-top that no one would dare utter it if it was in fact a lie.

That is the type of lie, according to Hitler, that will fool the great masses of people, even when the lie is so transparently thin that it couldn’t possibly stand up to any kind of critical analysis by anyone actually exercising their brain rather than just blindly accepting the legitimacy of the information they are fed. Take, for example, the rather fanciful notion that the United States landed men on the Moon in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. That’s the kind of lie we’re talking about here: the kind that seems to defy logic and reason and yet has become ingrained in the national psyche to such an extent that it passes for historical fact.

And anyone who would dare question that ‘historical fact,’ needless to say, must surely be stark raving mad.

Before proceeding any further, I should probably mention here that, until relatively recently, if I had heard anyone putting forth the obviously drug-addled notion that the Moon landings were faked, I would have been among the first to offer said person a ride down to the grip store. While conducting research into various other topics, however, it has become increasingly apparent that there are almost always a few morsels of truth in any ‘conspiracy theory,’ no matter how outlandish that theory may initially appear to be, and so despite my initial skepticism, I was compelled to take a closer look at the Apollo program.

The first thing that I discovered was that the Soviet Union, right up until the time that we allegedly landed the first Apollo spacecraft on the Moon, was solidly kicking our ass in the space race. It wasn’t even close. The world wouldn’t see another mismatch of this magnitude until decades later when Kelly Clarkson and Justin Guarini came along. The Soviets launched the first orbiting satellite, sent the first animal into space, sent the first man into space, performed the first space walk, sent the first three-man crew into space, was the first nation to have two spacecraft in orbit simultaneously, performed the first unmanned docking maneuver in space, and landed the first unmanned probe on the Moon.

Everything the U.S. did, prior to actually sending a manned spacecraft to the Moon, had already been done by the Soviets, who clearly were staying at least a step or two ahead of our top-notch team of imported Nazi scientists. The smart money was clearly on the Soviets to make it to the Moon first, if anyone was to do so. Their astronauts had logged five times as many hours in space as had ours. And they had a considerable amount of time, money, scientific talent and, perhaps most of all, national pride riding on that goal.

And yet, amazingly enough, despite the incredibly long odds, the underdog Americans made it first. And not only did we make it first, but after a full forty years, the Soviets apparently still haven’t quite figured out how we did it. The question that is clearly begged here is a simple one: Why is it that the nation that was leading the world in the field of space travel not only didn’t make it to the Moon back in the 1960s, but still to this day have never made it there? Could it be that they were just really poor losers? I am imagining that perhaps the conversation over in Moscow’s equivalent of NASA went something like this:

Boris: Comrade Ivan, there is terrible news today: the Yankee imperialists have beaten us to the Moon. What should we do?
Ivan: Let’s just shit-can our entire space program.
Boris: But comrade, we are so close to success! And we have so much invested in the effort!
Ivan: Fuck it! If we can’t be first, we aren’t going at all.
Boris: But I beg of you comrade! The moon has so much to teach us, and the Americans will surely not share with us the knowledge they have gained.
Ivan: Nyet!

In truth, the entire space program has largely been, from its inception, little more than an elaborate cover for the research, development and deployment of space-based weaponry and surveillance systems. The media never talk about such things, of course, but government documents make clear that the goals being pursued through space research are largely military in nature. For this reason alone, it is inconceivable that the Soviets would not have followed the Americans onto the Moon for the sake of their own national defense.

It is not just the Soviets, of course, who have never made it to the Moon. The Chinese haven’t either. Nor has any other industrialized nation, despite the rather obvious fact that every such nation on the planet now possesses technology that is light-years beyond what was available to NASA scientists in the 1960s.

Some readers will recall that (and younger readers might want to cover their eyes here, because the information to follow is quite shocking), in the 1960s, a full complement of home electronics consisted of a fuzzy, 13-channel, black-and-white television set with a rotary tuning dial, rabbit ears and no remote. Such cutting-edge technology as the pocket calculator was still five years away from hitting the consumer market.

It is perfectly obvious, of course, that it was not consumer electronics that allegedly sent men to the Moon. The point here though is that advances in aerospace technology mirror advances in consumer technology, and just as there has been revolutionary change in entertainment and communications technology, so too has aerospace technology advanced by light-years in the last four decades. Technologically speaking, the NASA scientists working on the Apollo project were working in the Dark Ages. So if they could pull it off back then, then just about anyone should be able to do it now.

It would be particularly easy, needless to say, for America to do it again, since we’ve already done all the research and development and testing. Why then, I wonder, have we not returned to the Moon since the last Apollo flight? Following the alleged landings, there was considerable talk of establishing a space station on the Moon, and of possibly even colonizing Earth’s satellite. Yet all such talk was quickly dropped and soon forgotten and for nearly four decades now not a single human has been to the Moon.

Again, the question that immediately comes to mind is: Why? Why has no nation ever duplicated, or even attempted to duplicate, this miraculous feat? Why has no other nation even sent a manned spacecraft to orbitthe Moon? Why has no other nation ever attempted to send a manned spacecraft anywhere beyond low-Earth orbit?

Is it because we already learned everything there was to learn about the Moon? If so, then could it reasonably be argued that it would be possible to make six random landings on the surface of the Earth and come away with a complete and thorough understanding of this heavenly body? Are we to believe that the international scientific community has no open questions that could be answered by a, ahem, ‘return’ trip to the Moon? And is there no military advantage to be gained by sending men to the Moon? Has man’s keen interest in exploring celestial bodies, evident throughout recorded history, suddenly gone into remission?

Maybe, you say, it’s just too damned expensive. But the 1960s were not a particularly prosperous time in U.S. history and we were engaged in an expensive Cold War throughout the decade as well as an even more expensive ‘hot’ war in Southeast Asia, and yet we still managed to finance no less than seven manned missions to the Moon, using a new, disposable, multi-sectioned spacecraft each time. And yet in the four decades since then, we are apparently supposed to believe that no other nation has been able to afford to do it even once.

While we’re on the subject of the passage of time, exactly how much time do you suppose will have to pass before people in significant numbers begin to question the Moon landings? NASA has recently announced that we will not be returning, as previously advertised, by the year 2020. That means that we will pass the fifty-year anniversary of the first alleged landing without a sequel. Will that be enough elapsed time that people will begin to wonder? What about after a full century has passed by? Will our history books still talk about the Moon landings? And if so, what will people make of such stories? When they watch old preserved films from the 1960s, how will they reconcile the laughably primitive technology of the era with the notion that NASA sent men to the Moon?

Consider this peculiar fact: in order to reach the surface of the Moon from the surface of the Earth, the Apollo astronauts would have had to travel a minimum of 234,000 miles*. Since the last Apollo flight allegedly returned from the Moon in 1972, the furthest that any astronaut from any country has traveled from the surface of the Earth is about 400 miles. And very few have even gone that far. The primary components of the current U.S. space program – the space shuttles, the space station, and the Hubble Telescope – operate at an orbiting altitude of about 200 miles.

(*NASA gives the distance from the center of Earth to the center of the Moon as 239,000 miles. Since the Earth has a radius of about 4,000 miles and the Moon’s radius is roughly 1,000 miles, that leaves a surface-to-surface distance of 234,000 miles. The total distance traveled during the alleged missions, including Earth and Moon orbits, ranged from 622,268 miles for Apollo 13 to 1,484,934 miles for Apollo 17. All on a single tank of gas.)

To briefly recap then, in the twenty-first century, utilizing the most cutting-edge modern technology, the best manned spaceship the U.S. can build will only reach an altitude of 200 miles. But in the 1960s, we built a half-dozen of them that flew almost 1,200 times further into space. And then flew back. And they were able to do that despite the fact that the Saturn V rockets that powered the Apollo flights weighed in at a paltry 3,000 tons, about .004% of the size that the principal designer of those very same Saturn rockets had previously said would be required to actually get to the Moon and back (primarily due to the unfathomably large load of fuel that would be required).

To put that into more Earthly terms, U.S. astronauts today travel no further into space than the distance between the San Fernando Valley and Fresno. The Apollo astronauts, on the other hand, traveled a distance equivalent to circumnavigating the planet around the equator nine-and-a-half times! And they did it with roughly the same amount of fuel that it now takes to make that 200 mile journey, which is why I want NASA to build my next car for me. I figure I’ll only have to fill up the tank once and it should last me for the rest of my life.

“But wait,” you say, “NASA has solid evidence of the validity of the Moon landings. They have, for example, all of that film footage shot on the moon and beamed live directly into our television sets.”

Since we’re on the subject, I have to mention that transmitting live footage back from the Moon was another rather innovative use of 1960s technology. More than two decades later, we would have trouble broadcasting live footage from the deserts of the Middle East, but in 1969, we could beam that shit back from the Moon with nary a technical glitch!

As it turns out, however, NASA doesn’t actually have all of that Moonwalking footage anymore. Truth be told, they don’t have any of it. According to the agency, all the tapes were lost back in the late 1970s. All 700 cartons of them. As Reuters reported on August 15, 2006, “The U.S. government has misplaced the original recording of the first moon landing, including astronaut Neil Armstrong’s famous ‘one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’ … Armstrong’s famous moonwalk, seen by millions of viewers on July 20, 1969, is among transmissions that NASA has failed to turn up in a year of searching, spokesman Grey Hautaluoma said. ‘We haven’t seen them for quite a while. We’ve been looking for over a year, and they haven’t turned up,’ Hautaluoma said … In all, some 700 boxes of transmissions from the Apollo lunar missions are missing.”

Given that these tapes allegedly documented an unprecedented and unduplicated historical event, one that is said to be the greatest technological achievement of the twentieth century, how in the world would it be possible to, uhmm, ‘lose’ 700 cartons of them? Would not an irreplaceable national treasure such as that be very carefully inventoried and locked away in a secure film vault? And would not copies have been made, and would not those copies also be securely tucked away somewhere? Come to think of it, would not multiple copies have been made for study by the scientific and academic communities?

Had NASA claimed that a few tapes, or even a few cartons of tapes, had been misplaced, then maybe we could give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps some careless NASA employee, for example, absent-mindedly taped a Super Bowl game over one of them. Or maybe some home porn. But does it really seem at all credible to claim that the entire collection of tapes has gone missing – all 700 cartons of them, the entire film record of the alleged Moon landings? In what alternative reality would that happen ‘accidentally’?

Some of you are probably thinking that everyone has already seen the footage anyway, when it was allegedly broadcast live back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, or on NASA’s website, or on YouTube, or on numerous television documentaries. But you would be mistaken. The truth is that the original footage has never been aired, anytime or anywhere – and now, since the tapes seem to have conveniently gone missing, it quite obviously never will be.

The fact that the tapes are missing (and according to NASA, have been for over three decades), amazingly enough, was not even the most compelling information that the Reuters article had to offer. Also to be found was an explanation of how the alleged Moonwalk tapes that we all know and love were created: “Because NASA’s equipment was not compatible with TV technology of the day, the original transmissions had to be displayed on a monitor and re-shot by a TV camera for broadcast.”

So what we saw then, and what we have seen in all the footage ever released by NASA since then, were not in fact live transmissions. To the contrary, it was footage shot off a television monitor, and a tiny black-and-white monitor at that. That monitor may have been running live footage, I suppose, but it seems far more likely that it was running taped footage. NASA of course has never explained why, even if it were true that the original broadcasts had to be ‘re-shot,’ they never subsequently released any of the actual ‘live’ footage. But I guess that’s a moot point now, what with the tapes having gone missing.

With NASA’s admission of how the original broadcasts were created, it is certainly not hard to imagine how fake Moon landing footage could have been produced. As I have already noted, the 1960s were a decidedly low-tech era, and NASA appears to have taken a very low-tech approach. As Moon landing skeptics have duly noted, if the broadcast tapes are played back at roughly twice their normal running speed, the astronauts appear to move about in ways entirely consistent with the way ordinary humans move about right here on planet Earth. Here then is the formula for creating Moonwalk footage: take original footage of guys in ridiculous costumes moving around awkwardly right here on our home planet, broadcast it over a tiny, low-resolution television monitor at about half speed, and then re-film it with a camera focused on that screen. The end result will be broadcast-ready tapes that, in addition to having that all-important grainy, ghosty, rather surreal ‘broadcast from the Moon’ look, also appear to show the astronauts moving about in entirely unnatural ways.

But not, it should be noted, too unnatural. And doesn’t that seem a little odd as well? If we’re being honest here (and for my testosterone-producing readers, this one is directed at you), the average male specimen, whether astronaut or plumber, never really grows up and stops being a little boy. And what guy, given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend some time in a reduced gravity environment, isn’t going to want to see how high he can jump? Or how far he can jump? Hitting a golf ball? Who the hell wants to see that? How about tossing a football for a 200-yard touchdown pass? Or how about the boys dazzling the viewing audience with some otherworldly acrobatics?

And yes, Neil and the guys did exhibit some playfulness at times while allegedly walking on the Moon, but doesn’t it seem a bit odd that they failed to do anything that couldn’t be faked simply by changing the tape speed? When I attended college, I knew a guy on the volleyball team who had a 32” vertical leap right here on Earth. So when I see guys jumping maybe 12”, if that, in a 1/6 gravity environment with no air resistance, I’m not really all that impressed.

Am I the only one, by the way, who finds it odd that people would move in slow motion on the Moon? Why would a reduced gravitational pull cause everything to move much more slowly? Given the fact that they were much lighter on their feet and not subject to air and wind resistance, shouldn’t the astronauts have been able to move quicker on the Moon than here on Earth? Was slow motion the only thing NASA could come up with to give the video footage an otherworldly feel?

Needless to say, if what has been proposed here is indeed how the ‘Moon landing’ footage in the public domain was created, then the highly incriminating original footage – which would have looked like any other footage shot here on Earth, except for the silly costumes and props – would have had to have been destroyed. Perhaps it’s not surprising then that NASA now takes the position that the original footage has been missing since “sometime in the late 1970s.”

Unfortunately, it isn’t just the video footage that is missing. Also allegedly beamed back from the Moon was voice data, biomedical monitoring data, and telemetry data to monitor the location and mechanical functioning of the spaceship. All of that data, the entire alleged record of the Moon landings, was on the 13,000+ reels that are said to be ‘missing.’ Also missing, according to NASA and its various subcontractors, are the original plans/blueprints for the lunar modules. And for the lunar rovers. And for the entire multi-sectioned Saturn V rockets.

There is, therefore, no way for the modern scientific community to determine whether all of that fancy 1960s technology was even close to being functional or whether it was all for show. Nor is there any way to review the physical record, so to speak, of the alleged flights. We cannot, for example, check the fuel consumption throughout the flights to determine what kind of magic trick NASA used to get the boys there and back with less than 1% of the required fuel. And we will never, it would appear, see the original, first-generation video footage.

You would think that someone at NASA would have thought to preserve such things. No wonder we haven’t given them the money to go back to the Moon; they’d probably just lose it.

(Deutsch) 🇩🇪 Germany – Chancellor Addresses United Nations General Debate, 77th Session

Actual video (mentioned in a previous article) without the overdub. Don’t even bother watching it unless you can understand German.

Big Changes for Europe

Russia eventually ripped the curtain down and denounced the treaty that mainly established security in Europe.  From Maria Zakharova:

The masquerade is over, gentlemen!

Russia is denouncing the document signed in 1990 between the countries of the Warsaw Pact and NATO on the balance of the two blocs and the limitation of armaments along the line of contact. Behind this screen, the West, despite all its promises, openly escalated. Our attempts to adapt the treaty in 1999 were ignored.

NATO has brazenly advanced towards the Russian borders, having already carried out 9 waves of expansion of its military bloc, including our neighbor Finland.

Under these conditions, the denunciation became simply a necessary measure that threw off false covers and exposed reality. To put it bluntly, she’s intimidating!

In the last sentence, she means that the sheer size of the western fraud, swindle and deception is massive.  She is talking about the Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) Treaty, which at the time formed the basis and cornerstone of European security.  If you were wondering about the term ‘indivisible security’, then it comes mainly from this treaty. HERE

What it means in reality is that I cannot think of another treaty, another agreement that legally stands between Russia and a wider war.  Then we have Mr.Shoigu yesterday saying that:

Western nations have basically been waging an undeclared war against Moscow and Minsk, according to Russian Defence Minister Sergei Shoigu, who was speaking on Thursday with his Belarusian colleague Viktor Khrenin. Sergei Shoigu stated, ‘Today we are facing the collective West, which is virtually waging war against our countries’.

He stated that ‘the NATO’s military activities have become as aggressive as possible’. ‘The joint armed forces of the alliance in Eastern Europe are being made more combat-ready through the implementation of a number of initiatives. The deployment of more military personnel and facilities, as well as an increase in training and reconnaissance operations close to the Union State’s frontiers,’ said the head of the Russian military department.

I leave you to draw your own conclusion from this.  What it means to me, is that the possibility of a wider war is now measured in probability percentage.  The Mearsheimer video posted yesterday, tells us about the inability of NATO now to de-escalate.  In addition, another new missile is unveiled in Russia.  No doubt, Andrei Martyanov will tell us about it.

The following video is on a lighter note, but clearly indicates the Russia / China relationship.  Again, draw your own conclusions.

Speaking out for China

TOP INTELLECTUALS IN THE U.S. stood up this week to speak out for China—and demand a stop to the powerful militaristic country’s drive to start an unnecessary war in East Asia.

The White House claim this week that they did not want conflict with China is “Denial and information distortion bordering on propaganda,” said Stephen Roach, Yale University professor and former chief economist at Morgan Stanley. The untrue statement was “classic Cold War posturing”, he said in statement on Twitter on Thursday.

Others agreed. Falsely painting the Chinese as trying to take over the world is bad for everyone, writer David Rothkopf argued in a Daily Beast essay printed today. Why paint China as a threat?

“Why? Why is it such a great threat even though the country has no history of conquest beyond its region in 5,000 years of history and is far from being able or inclined to pose a direct threat of attack to the U.S.?” he asked.

Even the relentlessly hostile Financial Times printed a column by Edward Luce admitting that the current geopolitical tension in the world did not come from China, but from the U.S.

“This week, Xi Jinping went further than before in naming America as the force behind the ‘containment’, ‘encirclement’ and ‘suppression’ of China. Though his rhetoric was provocative, it was not technically wrong,” wrote Luce in a column on Wednesday. Luce, like most FT writers, normally takes a very hostile line against China.

Offensive, but funny

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2023 05 25 20 38

Iowa Applesauce Cake

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2023 05 25 19 44

Ingredients

Cake

  • 1/2 cup butter
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1 1/2 cups applesauce
  • 1 cup raisins
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

Cream Cheese Frosting

  • 6 ounces cream cheese, softened
  • 1/2 cup butter, softened
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 4 1/2 to 4 3/4 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar

Instructions

  1. Cake: In a large mixing bowl, beat butter for 30 seconds.
  2. Add both sugars and egg; beat until combined.
  3. Stir together flour, baking powder, baking soda and spices.
  4. Add flour mixture alternately with applesauce to butter mixture.
  5. Stir in raisins and nuts.
  6. Pour batter into a greased 13 x 9-inch baking pan and spread evenly.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a wooden pick inserted near the center comes out clean.
  8. Cool in pan on wire rack.
  9. Cream Cheese Frosting: Beat together cream cheese, softened butter and vanilla extract until light and fluffy.
  10. Gradually beat in 2 cups of the confectioners’ sugar.
  11. Beat in remaining 2 1/2 to 2 3/4 cups confectioners’ sugar to make a spreadable frosting. Spread on cake.
  12. For a decorative finish, set a doily lightly on frosted cake and sprinkle lightly with a mixture of cinnamon and nutmeg.
  13. Carefully remove the doily.

Survey of the Japanese Submarine the 124 – mini documentary.

I am American, and I own a flat in North London. My mother’s family is from the UK, and we are still very close with our cousins there.

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Here are just some thoughts. This isn’t an exhaustive answer.

I think overall we’re more similar than we are different, but it is definitely different there.

Arriving in London feels like arriving in an East Coast US state or Canadian province, but much older and more populous. Things that I see Americans notice right away, are chimneys that look like they’re something out of Mary Poppins, and rows and rows of shops of all kinds along high streets. (Small businesses in the US have been utterly destroyed by Walmart.)

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main qimg 1d7c88890b4c2620a683f00db92a41a8

As for less rich? I don’t get that impression at all. Just because things are smaller (shops, houses, flats, cars) doesn’t mean they’re less rich. In fact, the typical American doesn’t know the luxury of being able to walk up to the high street and take care of all of their errands within a hour, and not even get into a car.

Oh, and then to top it all off by walking home with food that is fresher and higher quality than anything you’ll find in most US cities that aren’t near farms.

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main qimg 0959538c5623ff59b648bccd0c7922bb

By the way, step into a Waitrose, and you’ll feel like you’re in a US supermarket. The only difference there is that the shopping carts (trolleys) are slightly smaller than ours, and their checkout employees are seated at the tills, rather than standing.

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main qimg c359d5db12babe496eef52bc9cff3325

For me personally, the weather is one of the biggest differences, but that’s mainly because I’m from the desert. But I love rain and fog and so I enjoy it. The grey skies are intensely grey though. It can feel like dusk all day long, on some days.

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main qimg e29b531c8709617f24d543835fced1a1

One really cool thing is that North London is so diverse, that people generally can’t tell I am a foreigner from my American Southwest accent! It wasn’t always that way, but now there are so many immigrants and people from the all over the UK living there, that I sort of… just blend in, which I just love!

That’s my truck. Was my truck.

Summer of 2013. It was a normal day for me and my three sons. We were on our way to the storage place to retrieve a few important items and documents because we were in the middle of moving out to another city and needed proofs and such. It was a narrow two-way country road 50mph (70 to the locals). I had my turn signal on (at a dead stop) watching the oncoming traffic for my chance to take a left turn into the entrance of the facility when I just happened to look in my rearview and noticed some headlights coming up from behind really fast.

I recall shouting “Brace for impact! They’re not slowing down!” I couldn’t turn left because the oncoming traffic was still coming. Just then a truck slammed into the back of us! I would later find out he was going 70mph. It spun my truck into the left oncoming traffic. We were T-boned and spun around the other way. Then side swiped and spun again! We were hit three times at 70mph.

OnStar comes on over our radio and I cannot think about answering the woman on the other end because I’m seeing my then 4-year-old son unresponsive dangling from his car seat. My eldest son (13years then and in the passenger’s seat) is the only calm one in this situation and speaks to OnStar on my behalf. I’m checking on my middle son (10) and asking him to please wake up the baby. I tell him he’s okay and that he’s being a big boy and I’m so proud of him for taking care of his baby brother. I pull myself out of my side of the vehicle and climb into the back seat to my sons and take them out. The youngest vomited on me and kept apologizing and the middle wet his pants and was ashamed. My eldest came around and took my youngest from my arms and said “Mom, we’re okay. Everyone is okay. We’re not hurt.” He was right. No injuries whatsoever. We lived.

She Died Horseback Riding; What She Saw In The Afterlife Will Shock You (NDE)

The US uses manufactured numbers and printed stacks of paper currency to create an economy. China uses manufactured goods at prices the world can afford, need and buy in huge quantities to create an economy.

It is the difference between a US fantasy Hollywood economy promoted by coercion with a powerful military as the enforcer and a Chinese well-organized real economy built on needs the world has and needs the Chinese people have, using honest mutually beneficial trading practices with more than 140 countries trading goods and services along the Chinese Belt and Road trade routes.

It is the difference between, Chinese Business and American monkey business

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2023 05 25 17 22

Washington has co-opted both the winners and the losers of World War II into defending Western domination around the globe

By Timur Fomenko, a political analyst

President Joe Biden, left, shakes hands with Japan’s Prime Minister Fumio Kishida prior to a bilateral meeting in Hiroshima, Japan, Thursday, May 18, 2023, ahead of the start of the G-7 Summit. © AP Photo/Susan Walsh

The summit of G7 nations took place in Hiroshima, Japan over the last weekend.

Hiroshima is significant for a few reasons. First of all, it is known to the world as the location that the United States nuked, along with Nagasaki, at the end of World War II, which led to the surrender of the Empire of Japan and that country’s transformation into a US client state.

Secondly, Japan is working to remilitarize itself in line with America’s dual containment effort against China and Russia. Thus, while Japan is chair of the G7 this year, the event was a rubber-stamping of US-centric geopolitical goals which took aim at both countries.

However, what might be said about the G7 itself? Founded as a Cold War-era organization in 1975, and briefly incorporating the West’s aspirations for post-Soviet Russia, the group professes to represent the world’s “most advanced industrial countries,” but anyone could tell you this is an outdated category. Countries such as China and India, with economies larger than most G7 members, are not part of the group. Rather, the character and agenda of the G7 is distinctly ideological, and its goal is to preserve a Western-dominated concept of the world at all costs.

It should not go unnoticed that the G7 is an effective aggregation of former empires that once dominated the world unchallenged, now held under the wings and servitude of the US. Remarkably, all three Axis powers of World War II, defeated by the allies, are a part of this grouping. Although the respective fascist-oriented regimes of Germany, Italy and Japan were rightfully destroyed, these countries were all rebuilt as American client states following the war and their respective interests placed in the hands of Washington.

Similarly, the allied empires, which emerged victorious, including France, Britain and its imperial dominion, Canada, found that the war had severely depleted their national resources and strength to the point they could no longer continue as the global superpowers they had been. Consequently, they surrendered their leadership baton to the US and have ever since relied on following its lead to secure their interests around the world.

In each instance, all of these countries held positions of privilege from their imperial eras. Having colonized most of the globe, and Japan having militarily occupied much of Asia, these countries had made themselves tremendously wealthy. Britain’s fabulous wealth, for one, is tailored directly to the exploitation of Africa and India. Colonial empires were strictly commercial in character, using ideology as a justifying force for aggression, upholding their economic interests by immense military power. This gave these countries privilege, which thus formed the distinction between the Global North and the Global South.

Unable to carry their empires forward, either by exhaustion or defeat, these respective countries seek to sustain the unfair economic privileges they attained through compliance with the US, a “neo-empire” which is the inheritor of the international order they created. Thus, the G7, the aggregation of all these countries into one ideological grouping, is no coincidence. Their respective goal is to maintain their own economic privileges and to attempt to suppress changes in the international order that threaten their position, which in this case is the rise of the Global South and China.

On this note, the G7 buys into the US-led goals of attempting to blockade China from making breakthroughs in high-end technologies. It also wants to stop other countries from buying into Beijing’s development model and to sustain the fundamental gulf in wealth between the Global North and South. It wants to be the only group entitled to impose massive sanctions and embargoes on other countries and then decry China’s defense of its interests as “economic coercion.”

They also want to make sure that neither China nor Russia can challenge the West’s historic military dominance. The US has thus in effect co-opted both the winners and losers of World War II (minus the USSR) into one grouping and used it to continue the same world they were vested in. However, one undeniable fact is that the world is changing in ways that are not favorable to the G7. They no longer have that degree of dominance, and their share of global GDP is only going to shrink. As the BRICS economies continue to grow and multipolarity emerges, their own little exclusive club is hardly in a position to try and dictate the flow of the global economy.

This little club wants to remain rich, while stopping everyone else from enriching themselves as well. It isn’t going to work.

The United States does NOT know what it wants:

  • it wants access to the huge Chinese market for its products
  • access to cost effective Chinese suppliers for its consumers and manufacturers.

HOWEVER, it does NOT want Chinese competition

  • in the high profit, high margin products including semiconductors, aircraft and other industries which it currently lead

AND it is resentful of Chinese domination in key hi tech sectors including telecommunications, next generation products like EV and AI

Therefore it seeks to impede and reversed Chinese progress in these area thru:

  • sanctioning Chinese companies
  • restrict China’s access to underlying technologies
  • as well as other non-conventional atttacks
  • AND tried to get allied and other countries to do likewise

HOWEVER, it is clear that American efforts have failed.

The internal Chinese market is far too big, Chinese manufacturing too dominant AND, most all, the United Stated and its allies have sanctioned themselves off critical markets of the world including Russia, Iran and Syria.

Over the last few months, it is now clear that the Chinese have begun their fight back: from de-dollarization, the expansion of BRICS, the boycott of American products including corn and Boeing jets to declaring Micron a security risk. The Chinese have clearly concluded that the pendulum of power have swung in their favour AND they are correct.

The implosion of American power will be fast and furious.

The United States is reaping what it has sown.

A World War 2 Soldier Was Found Frozen in Ice!

Horseshoe Sandwich with Idaho® Fingerling Fries

The Horseshoe is a regional specialty in the Springfield, Illinois area. It is an open-faced sandwich on toasted bread that can utilize a variety of meats, topped with French fries and a creamy cheese sauce.

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2023 05 25 19 39

Yield: 4 sandwiches

Ingredients

Sandwich

  • 4 toasted slices Texas toast
  • 6 Idaho® Russian Banana Fingerling potatoes, sliced into fries
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • Freshly ground Italian seasoning blend
  • 4 grilled hamburger patties, sprinkled with steak seasoning and seasoning salt before cooking
  • 1 medium onion, sliced
  • 1 cup fresh mushrooms, sliced
  • 1 red or green bell pepper, cut into large chunks
  • 2 tablespoons butter

Cheese Sauce

  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Lay out potato slices onto cookie sheet lined with foil.
  2. Drizzle olive oil over potatoes and use brush to evenly coat them.
  3. Grind Italian seasoning over potatoes until there is a nice, even dusting of seasoning.
  4. Place in oven heated to 425 degrees F. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes or until fries are cooked throughout and lightly brown.
  5. Place onion, mushroom and pepper in foil. Place butter on top and sprinkle with freshly ground Italian seasoning. Tent foil and close. Place in oven. (They should be softened by the time the fries finish cooking.)
  6. While the fries and vegetables bake, start on cheese sauce by melting butter in a small saucepan. Once melted, add flour and stir to make a roux.
  7. Add milk and basil and stir constantly until it starts to bubble. Continue stirring for two to three more minutes until it begins to thicken.
  8. Add shredded cheese gradually, stirring constantly as it melts.
  9. Lay out toasted bread on plates, topped with hamburger patty. Spoon vegetables on top of burger, followed by a layer of fries. Top with cheese sauce.

Notes

Grilled vegetables, such as green peppers and onions, are also common on a Horseshoe sandwich. Alternate meat suggestions include smoked ham, pulled pork and grilled chicken breast.

‘I Died:’ Women Share What Their Near-Death Experiences Were Like

These 50 Pics Of Men Before And After Beards May Show Just What You’ve Been Missing In Your Life

The effect of seeing a smooth-faced person come out from the shadows sporting a full-fledged beard is undeniable. Think about the first time we, as a society, saw what wonders a handful of tactically-shaped hair on Keanu Reeves or Chris Hemsworth can do to already charming features. And don’t get us started on George Clooney… Although, we still aren’t sure about Prince Harry (then again, it’s not totally surprising he was ordered to shave that ‘thing’ off his face).

Whether inspired by curiosity or the lack of razors, many men across the world have tried to see if their faces are suited to rock a sexy lumberjack look. Similar to leather jackets and Aviators, it’s definitely not for everyone. But when a guy pulls it off, the world has to see it as well. And with that, dear pandas, we present to you a handful of men who let testosterone do its magic and showed us their transformations from baby-faced to stubbly.

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Dead for 11 Hours: My Unexpected Journey to Heaven and Hell with Jim Woodford

Russian Border Checkpoint Attacked by Tanks from Ukraine; Destroyed in Belgorod

Belgorad Checkpoint Destroyed large
Belgorad Checkpoint Destroyed large

At this moment, a fierce battle is going on with the Ukrainian DRG on the border of the Belgorod region near the village of Dronovka — Russian sources

Tanks have entered the territory of the Russian Federation at the Grayvoron checkpoint.

Russian media report: “Right now, there is a fierce battle with the Ukrainian DRG on the border of the Belgorod region near the village of Dronovka. Military equipment has been brought in from both sides.”

VIDEO:

 

 

UPDATE 9:40 AM EDT —

The fighters of the self-proclaimed “Russian Volunteer Corps,” a unit within the Ukrainian Armed Forces comprised of Russian citizens who willingly defected to Ukraine, have taken responsibility for the raid in the Belgorod Region.

 

UPDATE 9:58 AM EDT —

Belgorod Regional Officials have stated that “Ukrainian Forces” have entered and Partially-Captured at least 4 Russian towns near the Border Region including the Towns of Kozinka, Glotovo, Gora-Podol and Grayvoron with a Heavy Fighting still going on in the North.

Russian Traitors For Ukraine Capture 4 Russian Towns
Russian Traitors For Ukraine Capture 4 Russian Towns

Forensic Detective Dies ; Came Back With Proof & Message Of Afterlife That Would Shock You NDE

That’s all for today. Now go forth and enjoy your day.

President Biden (at the G7) says that the cold war with China will thaw

Believe it or not, Biden is following a publicly announced policy of pressuring China to respond and then blaming China for not responding if it does not do so.

The United States is in full free-fall collapse. But it is not my problem.

President Biden, at the G7 meeting in Japan this May, says that the cold war between the USA and China WILL THAW.

Uh-huh…

Sure. What ever you say.

Moreover, I just watched  a video by an American general which strongly suggests this to be the case. 6MB Video HERE. Definitely worth a watch.

Maybe… But I DO NOT BELIEVE IT. No matter how much I want to.

I would be a fool to believe this swill..

Meanwhile, NATO is moving into Russia with AMERICAN weapons systems, and AMERICAN appearing troops in Ukraine Nazi uniforms.

WTF?

1/2 a date. We were seated at the restaurant, chose our meals and I excused myself to go to the restroom. Upon returning we started talking. You know, all the small talk.

At one point he mentioned that he knew I had a dog.

My dog was a big boy, about 115 pounds. I said yes, he’s a rescue and a very nice dog. He sort of frowned and said, “well I have a cat and if we end up together the dog has to go.”

Huh?

I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly, after all this was a first date. Then the waiter showed up with our food. He set a lobster in front of me. I looked at the waiter and said, “Oh, I’m sorry but there has been a mistake: I ordered chicken.” My date, “no mistake, I’m not cheap; I changed your order.” Me: “I don’t like lobster.” Him: “just be grateful and eat it.” I didn’t say another word, just picked up my purse and walked out.

Wait I take it back. That was the second shortest.

My date arrived at my front door. My dog absolutely refused to allow this man through the front door. I had never seen him so determined to keep someone away from me. I trusted his instincts and told the guy, “My dog doesn’t like you and he’s a good judge of character, so the date’s off.” This man, screamed at me calling me all sorts of names, stomped down my front steps, screeched out of my drive and drove away. I gave the dog a steak for dinner.

The black and white dog was my sweet puppy, He passed on a few years ago.

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Origins of the Moonwalk

The Chinese Neighborhood Committees

By Frans Vandenbosch  方腾波

Another outstanding contribution by Frans Vandenbosch. -MM

Yesterday and today, I went to one of the many local neighborhood committees, here in Shanghai to get a better understanding of the way they are caring for the people.

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2023 05 25 11 41

The office of the Neighbourhood Committee is along the (temporary) buildings of the Covid-19 testing centre.

I had a talk with Mr. Qiu, this afternoon also with Mr. Xu.

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2023 05 25 11 4t1

There are in total 6 unpaid volunteers working for the neighborhood committee of the 乐山四五村居民区地域图  the Residential Area of Siwu, part of the Zikawei district in Xujiahui, Shanghai. They are all 6 members of the CPC, the Communist Party of China. They love to take care for people, that’s why they do this job on top of their regular job.

The Siwu residential area has many compounds with serviced large apartments. “Serviced” doesn’t mean it is for elderly people; most people are financially well off, not necessary retired. “Well off” doesn’t mean there are no issues with these people. There are sick, disabled, mentally unstable people, many divorces, disputes about the children of the divorced couples, etc. (as Mr. Xu explained)

In total, there are 3305 people living in the Siwu area; in 16 compounds; 34 (high rise) buildings.

Mr. Xu said that he knows half of these people personally, seeing them very frequently.  The others, he has spoken on regular basis, but up to his knowledge, they don’t have problems.

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2023 05 25 11 42

I asked him why he is doing all this ?   “I want the people here to be happy” he said. And: “we, our team is dedicated to find a solution for each and every problem “our” people are facing”.

They are using 6 different apps (actually add-ons to WeChat) to manage and report all this. The apps are exchanging and bench-marking “standard issues” with other neighborhood committees, to assure the quality of the solutions.  I didn’t asked him what’s the exact purpose of each app. (in my book there are some more details about the apps, used for neighborhood committee management)

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2023 05 25 11 43

We start with a question…

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2023 05 25 06 38

George Galloway adumbrating some blatant realities of our times

G7 focused on China. China is focused on development and prosperity. "Losers focus on winners. Winners focus on winning. "

My GOD! This is such a great video!

Spain joins the civilized world

Spanish PM will ask Biden to listen to China, Brazil on Ukraine.  Spain joins the civilized world.

.

Taiwan became a Chinese province under the Qing dynasty in 1887, and remained one until 1895 when it was ceded to Japan at the Treaty of Shimonoseki.

It was ceded to the Republic of China as part of the Potsdam agreement at the end of WWII, and came under the control of the Republic of China government in Nanjing on Oct. 25, 1945.

Taiwan is not a nation; it is an island.

The Republic of China has had Taipei as its seat of government ever since it lost mainland China to the People’s Republic of China in 1949.

The PRC government is the successor to the ROC government, and was recognized as its successor in 1971 when it was seated in the United Nations, and became a member of the UN Security Council. All governments which have established diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China agree that there is only one China, and that Taiwan is part of China. Including the United States of America.

What does this mean? It means that the dispute over Taiwan is not between the PRC and Taiwan; it is between two Chinese governments which claim to represent all of China, the Republic of China (now on Taiwan) and the People’s Republic of China.

The dispute between the ROC-PRC governments is simply the continuation of a civil war which started in 1946 and has not yet ended.

The position of the People’s Republic of China government in Beijing is that it is the legitimate successor of the Republic of China government, and therefore lays its claim to Taiwan, even though it has not yet been able to exercise full control of its claim.

The position of the Republic of China government in Taipei is that it is the legitimate government of all of China, and that all of these claims are laid out in the Constitution of the Republic of China, which is still used to govern Taiwan and offshore islands which are still under the control of the ROC government.

Even though Taiwan is ruled by the Democratic Progressive Party, which advocates Taiwan independence and lays no claims to mainland China, the DPP has continued to use the official name of the Republic of China, and follows the Constitution of the Republic of China. This is because the PRC government has stated very clearly that if any government in Taiwan were to openly declare independence from China, it would have no choice except to attack Taiwan and bring it back under control.

The only reason there has been peace in the Taiwan straits for so long is that while the two governments are rivals as the legitimate government of all of China, they agree that Taiwan is a part of the Chinese nation as a whole.

This is what has held the peace for so long.

What difference does this make to you as a non-Chinese? It means that your opinion does not matter and makes no difference. No Chinese care about what you think about Taiwan, and whether it should be independent.

Your opinion carries no weight.

So why get so worked up about it?

Fred Astaire vs. Michael Jackson

US ‘intentionally released Covid virus in Wuhan’ EU summit told | The Standard

Staff reporter 22 May 2023
Article HERE
The Covid-19 coronavirus was "intentionally released" by the United States in Wuhan, China, with the target to trigger a global pandemic to raise public acceptance of vaccines, a US businessman specializing in patent auditing said.

David Martin, the founding chairman of M Cam asset management company, said at an International Covid Summit organized by the European Parliament in Brussels earlier this month that the US was responsible for the making of both coronaviruses causing the outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome - or SARS - in 2003 and the Covid-19 pandemic in the past three years.

The third edition of the summit featured speakers from anti-lockdown advocates to medical academia to discuss the global pandemic response. The speakers shed light on the possibility that the coronavirus which caused the pandemic was man-made, instead of naturally occurring.

In his speech, Martin said: "The pandemic that we alleged to have happened in the last few years did not happen overnight. In fact, the very specific pandemic using the coronavirus began at a different time."

He said that in 1965, scientists discovered the coronavirus as a model of a pathogen - an agent that causes disease. They also found out that coronaviruses can be modified.

"Later we started learning how to modify a coronavirus by putting them in animals such as dogs and pigs," Martin said, adding that such a practice became the basis for US pharmaceutical giant Pfizer's first coronavirus spike protein vaccine in 1990.

But very soon the medical sector and drug makers found out that the vaccines did not work.

"Because the coronavirus is a malleable model, it mutates," Martin said. "Every medical publication concluded that coronaviruses escape vaccines because it modifies and mutates too rapidly for a vaccine to be developed."

In 2002, a university in North Carolina initiated a study to develop an "infectious replication defective," which Martin interpreted as "a weapon to target individuals, but not have collateral damage."

Characterizing the project as having "mysteriously preceded SARS by a year," Martin said the coronavirus that caused the highly deadly infection was not from China and that it was "engineered" instead of naturally occurring.

On Covid-19, Martin said the coronavirus - named as SARS-CoV-2 by the World Health Organization - was poised for human emergence in 2016, with a preview about an "accidental or intentional release of a respiratory coronavirus" from a laboratory in Wuhan.

He said the purpose of the coronavirus "release" was to boost global acceptance on universal vaccination.

Explaining the common concern among the medical industry, Martin said: "Until an infectious crisis is very real, present and at the emergency threshold, it is often largely ignored.

"To sustain the funding base beyond the crisis, we need to increase the public understanding of the need for medical countermeasures, such as the pan-influenza, or pan-coronavirus, vaccine. A key drive is the media and the economics will follow the hype.

"We [pharmaceutical firms] need to use that hype to our advantage to get to the real issue. Investors will respond if they see profit at the end of the process," he said.

The Covid infection was first reported in Wuhan, Hubei province in central China in late 2019, with initial clusters coming from the Huanan Seafood Wholesale Market.

The disease turned into a global pandemic in early 2020.

As of Saturday, over 766 million infections have been recorded worldwide, with nearly seven million deaths.

The source of the coronavirus remained a mystery. Some scientists believe it transferred to humans from wild animals like bats and manidaes, while some politicians, in particular those from the US, accused the Wuhan Institute of Virology - a government-controlled lab - of leaking the pathogen.

A team of WHO-appointed experts inspected Wuhan in early 2021 to probe the source of the pandemic.

After the 12-day visit, including a visit to the lab, the scientists concluded that it is "extremely unlikely" that the lab could have leaked the Covid-19 coronavirus.

Life Before the Internet… You had to do WHAT!

More and more countries now don’t use US dollars but the other currencies in the cross-border trade settlements. The US starts to go down its own deep hole with exceptional mass shootings, bank runs, bankruptcy, mass layoffs, inflation, recession, and so on, one crisis after another.

How does America defeat Russia and China with the second-best weapons in the modern high-tech world?

How does America defeat Russia and China when its debt ceiling problem has become one of the political jokes in the world?

How does America defeat Russia and China with lies and dreams?

The whole world, Russia and China win peace whenever the US can’t start a war from now on. That’s even better than the chaotically worthless democracy showcase happening every day in the US very much like the third world country.

What a job.

Domestic smart driving chip, HaloDrive™ 30, designed and developed by Houmo.AI 后摩智能, tied with Nvidia for the first time! Without the most advanced process technology, independent mass-produced chips have already caught up with the industry’s first-class standards.

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2023 05 25 06 44

Continue talking about wars and victory on paper to kill time while the Chinese scientists are building better systems in more and more fields.

Sorry for you.

Soul Train Line I Don’t Want To Lose Your Love Emotions

Awesome dancin’.

TSMC Workers Routinely Asked to Find ‘Bomb’ Notes in Machinery: Report

To ensure thorough testing and maintenance workers must find all 'bomb' notes or lose 'points'.

TSMC clean room workers are routinely tasked with finding 'bombs' in machinery, according to Taiwan's United News Network (UDN). We have put 'bombs' in inverted commas, as the staff undertaking equipment testing and maintenance will find sticky notes with 'bomb' written on them located on various components instead of potentially explosive devices.

Article HERE

Police Interview Of A Master Manipulator

In this jcs inspired video, we take a look at the interrogation of Pam Hupp. After inheriting two life insurance policies and then making a suspicious 911 call, the police begin an investigation into Pam Hupp and what they find is shocking

A Chinese girl posts some pictures of her life…

Today is May 24th 2023, i am close to 21 years old now. i am a Chinese girl from a tier-2 city of northern China, i just show my life here. This is a small night market of my hometown.

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There are a lot of foreigners Think China is a backward, depressed, isolated, no freedom and human right country. I want to say China is not what they think of. Indeed China has some problems but every country does. i hope more people could visit China and see the ordinary people’s life.

The Whispers – “And The Beat Goes On” (Official Video)

An Unusual, Luxurious Sleeping Bag That Looks Just Like A Life-Sized Bear

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Amsterdam-based Japanese artist Eiko Ishizawa has transformed the average, functional sleeping bag into an exquisite work of art with her luxurious creation that closely resembles a life-sized bear, humorously referencing the safety hazard that comes with camping in the woods.

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Inspired by a real-life event where a “problem bear” had wandered from the Italian Alps to the Bavarian side of the mountains in 2006, the life-like sleeping bag, measuring an approximate six feet in length, is a heartfelt tribute to the unfortunate demise of the bear, which was eventually hunted down for fear of its threat to the inhabitants around it.

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You should learn to stop worrying and love the bomb.

American “leaders” have set the US on course with oblivion. They aren’t going to stop now.

Just enjoy the time you have left with your family and accept it. The psychopaths won. You lost.

Either way, the people of the US aren’t going to make it.

https://youtu.be/bcezwpk3yuE

May 23, 2023

There is a sharp contradiction at the heart of the Albanese government’s attempt to stabilise trade with China, whilst at the same time preparing for war with China in support of the United States.

Trade Minister Don Farrell has just returned from a visit to China. He described his visit as ‘a step in the process of stabilising our relationship with China’, a $300b two way trade relationship which underwrites our economic prosperity.

As the minister suggested and as we are seeing there are clear signs of improvement in trade relations that were so damaged by the Morrison Government.

One particular matter that is outstanding is Australian and Chinese membership of the trade agreement, the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP). Eleven countries, mainly in our region have signed the Agreement. Unfortunately, the Agreement has not been ratified because Donald Trump withdrew from the Agreement. That resulted in vassal states like Australia and Japan deciding not to proceed.

At his press conference in China Don Farrell gave a yes/no answer about the CPTPP:

Journalist: “Minister did you discuss the CPTPP?”

Minister for Trade: “Yes, we did. We discussed that. The Chinese Minister indicated that they would like to be considered for accession to the CPTPP. I indicated that we still hadn’t finally resolved the issue of the United Kingdom’s accession. We do believe that that’s imminent, but it still hasn’t been finally resolved. Of course, accession to that agreement requires the consent of all the parties.”

But the main discussion in China was of course about how to repair the trade relationship that was blown off course, which Our media, with their anti-China paranoia, blame China for.

Our White Man’s Media (WMM) , ever so keen to join the anti-China band wagon, will not do some easy research and homework with a few examples about how the problem started.

  • The anti-China drive was led first by Malcolm Turnbull and his advisor John Garnaut.
  • Australia began with anti-dumping tariffs in 2017 on Chinese steel and aluminium products that the WTO later found illegal.
  • When Turnbull banned Huawei operating in Australia in August 2018, we were the first government in the world to do so.
  • We then banned Chinese foreign investments in 2017/2018, including China Mengniu Dairy Co’s proposed $600 million acquisition of Lion Dairy & Drinks, despite the Foreign Investment Review Board’s agreement to the deal. There was hardly a security risk here with a dairy company!
  • We introduced foreign influence laws in 2018 directed against China that proved so wide that Turnbull himself had to declare that he was an agent of foreign influence after participating in a South Korean forum.
  • In April 2020, Foreign Minister Marise Payne, trying to ingratiate the Morrison Government with Donald Trump, announced on ABC Insiders Program that she wanted a non-WHO investigation unit (from many countries) to investigate origins of Covid in China. To join the anti-China psychosis Labor Opposition backed her. This was despite President Xi telling the World Health Assembly that China would support a ‘Comprehensive Review’.

This was the final straw and China in 2020 started imposing quotas, quarantine and other restrictions on selective Australian exports (coal, beef, barley, timber logs, wine, lobster, etc).

The political and media establishment in their ignorance and prejudice were surprised by the Chinese reaction. Our WMM thought the Chinese would as usual be a push over. How dare an Asian country do such a thing to us!

Together with the US we squawked about Chinese ‘coercion’ but our ally the US proceeded to grab as much of our lost sales in China that it could. Our WMM was silent.

In fact, the US should be the last country in the world to complain about coercion and sanctions. The US is the country above all others that imposes sanctions.

According to the Centre for Economic Policy in the US only four per cent of countries were subject to sanctions in the 1960s. Imposed mainly by the US and to a much lesser extent by the EU and the UN. Today 27 per cent of countries are subject to sanctions.

We have seen the result in widespread death and suffering caused by US sanctions in Iraq, Iran (the most sanctioned country in the world), Afghanistan, Venezuela and now Russia. The unintended consequences result in death and starvation. But the US in desperation and belief in its own ‘exceptionalism’ tries to impose more and more sanctions and coercion on countries that don’t follow its rules.

China should not have imposed sanctions on us even though Australian actions triggered the Chinese response. Sanctions and coercion have unintended consequences.

Hopefully we can now get Australia/China trade back on track.

But there is an elephant in the room we want to avoid and not talk about.

We have a whole raft of policies and programs that assume that China may invade us and the best way to avoid that is to support the US in a whole range of ways. In becoming an enthusiastic US proxy for war on China we make ourselves very vulnerable from our major trading partner.

The Minister for Defence and our embedded media warn us every day about the China threat – the Chinese military build up – despite the fact that the US spends more on defence than the next nine countries combined.

We are at the same time supporting more and more US bases like Darwin and Tindal to develop the capacity to attack China, and have entered into the AUKUS agreement, which is not to defend Australia, but to assist the US in a first strike nuclear capacity against China.

We have a long history of fighting in other people’s wars – at great cost to Australia. But there is now a big difference. IF we are drawn into a US war with China the results for us would be catastrophic.

There is a massive contradiction between stabilising our trade relations with China and our casting of it as a mortal military threat.

That position is not sustainable. We are planning to support an American war on China yet expect China to remain a loyal trading partner.

Penny Wong and Don Farrell can hardly keep saying they are stabilising the relationship with China when Richard Marles is out there almost every day dog whistling about the China threat. But perhaps he has been on the Washington drip feed for so long he doesn’t understand the immense contradiction in our relations with China and the enormous risks we are running.

We want improved trade relations with China whilst acting to support a US war with China. Something has to give.

Hopefully the Chinese are smarter than we are and take a longer view.

France Can’t Lecture Africa About Democracy As It Does Business With Corrupt Governments

The rest of the world is really STANDING UP.

At the end of April The Economist spoke to Mr Kissinger for over eight hours about how to prevent the contest between China and America from descending into war.

Mr Kissinger is alarmed by China’s and America’s intensifying competition for technological and economic pre-eminence. “We’re in the classic pre-world war one situation,” he says, “where neither side has much margin of political concession and in which any disturbance of the equilibrium can lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Mr Kissinger believes that AI will become a key factor in security within five years. He compares its disruptive potential to the invention of printing, which spread ideas that played a part in causing the devastating wars of the 16th and 17th centuries.

“[We live] in a world of unprecedented destructiveness,” Mr Kissinger warns. Despite the doctrine that a human should be in the loop, automatic and unstoppable weapons may be created. “If you look at military history, you can say, it has never been possible to destroy all your opponents, because of limitations of geography and of accuracy. [Now] there are no limitations. Every adversary is 100% vulnerable.”

He also cautioned against misinterpreting China’s ambitions. In Washington, “They say China wants world domination…The answer is that they [in China] want to be powerful,” he says. “They’re not heading for world domination in a Hitlerian sense,” he says. “That is not how they think or have ever thought of world order.”

In Nazi Germany war was inevitable because Adolf Hitler needed it, Mr Kissinger says, but China is different. He has met many Chinese leaders, starting with Mao Zedong. He did not doubt their ideological commitment, but this has always been welded onto a keen sense of their country’s interests and capabilities.

Mr Kissinger sees the Chinese system as more Confucian than Marxist. That teaches Chinese leaders to attain the maximum strength of which their country is capable and to seek to be respected for their accomplishments. Chinese leaders want to be recognised as the international system’s final judges of their own interests.

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Budweiser’s DESPERATE Partnership With Harley Davidson & The Military

Why can’t the US engineer a coup … to topple the Beijing government ?

A coup is possible ONLY if there is a strong opposition and the government is UNPOPULAR.

China has a meritocracy system of appointing leaders. Only the leaders proven (by actual performance) are promoted up the bottom ranks…strictly based on ACTUAL EXCELLENT performanceS and then elected to be the President after 30 to 40 years. As a result, the President is the most popular man in the country.

Harvard university (USA) conducted a 10 year study in China. They found that over 95.5% of Chinese support the Chinese government. (see Harvard report below)

However, the US tried many times … to use regime change … to topple the Beijing government and to replace the Chinese leader with a US puppet (just like the USSR).

The US tried this…several times. The last one in Beijing was the failed TAM uprising in 1989.

As a result of TAM, China has banned public protest and street demonstration (like in Singapore). This effectively prevented NED (from the USA) from instigating a regime change in China.

Ref: Long-term survey reveals Chinese government satisfaction

Thought Bud Light was bad? Target is now a “BIND” over their new Trans Clothing lineup

El Paso Red Sauce

This El Paso Red Sauce improves with age.

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2023 05 22 17 12

Ingredients

  • 1 large can whole tomatoes
  • 1 small can whole chile peppers
  • 4 to 6 jalapeno peppers
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable or olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced

Instructions

  1. Pulse a few times in a blender or chop by hand.
  2. Let stand several hours at room temperature, then refrigerate in a glass jar.

China NOW Controls the Tech That Will Define the 21st Century!

Mearsheimers Latest Talk On The War In Ukraine

Yesterday the well known international relations scholar John Mearsheimer gave a talk (video, 1:33h) about the war in Ukraine to the Committee for the Republic.

Mearsheimer made two major points:

Ukraine can not win this war because the kill ratio in this war is in its disfavor. Mearheimer estimates that two Ukrainians die for one Russian soldier but says that many of his friends think that the ratio is more like 3:1 or 4:1. The reason for this is the WWI-style static war in which artillery is the most deadly weapon. Russia has an immense artillery advantage. During an offensive the attacker will often have more casualties than the defender. But in this war the Ukraine side has been (counter-)attacked most of the time while the Russians defended.

The Ukraine also has a much smaller population than Russia. The current ratio is about 5 Russians for 1 Ukrainian. With a much smaller population and much higher casualties the Ukraine will run out of able bodies way before Russia does.

Mearsheimer expects that Russia, which already has incorporated four Ukrainian oblast plus Crimea, will take another four oblast from Ukraine. (I predicted this on February 24 2022, the day the war began. Those eight oblast plus Crimea are historically Russian land inhabited by Russian people. During the last thirty years they have consistently voted for pro-Russian candidates while the people in west Ukraine consistently opted for anti-Russian candidates.) Ukraine will end up as a dysfunctional (and poor) rump state.

Mearsheimer says that there will be no peace agreement in Ukraine. The war is seen by both sides as existential. Ukraine insists of regaining territory it sees as part of the country. Ukraine wants security guarantees from the ‘west’ which Russia opposes. The problem of hyper-nationalism (fascism) on the Ukrainian side also makes peace impossible. Then there is the problem that Russia, after having been lied to over the Minsk agreements, has zero trust in any ‘western’ word.

 

Posted by b at 9:41 UTC | Comments (299)

I Found A Place In Alabama That’s Actually Thriving

Lone Star Steak Sauce

2023 05 22 17 14
2023 05 22 17 14

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup butter
  • 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 3/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 drops Tabasco sauce
  • 1/2 cup lemon juice
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  1. Combine all ingredients.
  2. Heat until butter melts. Broiler juices may be added.
  3. Serve with steak.

2023 05 22 17 15
2023 05 22 17 15

Oh SH*T, Putin and China just declared economic war on the West with this move, Biden responds

The United States and the other G7 nations just declared open economic war on China. China responded with a ban on U.S. chip manufacturer Micron.

Things just got out of hand. At the G7, the leaders threatened to undermine China’s economic growth unless it implemented some changes.

Meanwhile, Chinese President Xi Jinping, at the Asian Summit, unveiled a grand plan for Central Asia’s development, from building infrastructure to boosting trade, taking on a new leadership role in a region that has traditionally been a Russian sphere of influence.

We are watching the West get ready to collide head-on with the East.

The damage is already done. Donald Dragonslayer stormed into a dragon’s den armed with a wooden sword. He failed to slay the dragon, but he did manage to wake up the dragon.

Donald Dragonslayer’s war on China isn’t just a war against the leadership and the Communist Party. Dragonslayer’s war is a war against that whole population. We’re in the process of making enemies out of one-fifth of the world’s population who were formerly admirers of America and dreamers of the “American Dream.” There are more people in China who speak English than there are in the United States – as a second language of course. They have been preparing themselves to deal with American civilization on a long term basis. Now, Donald Trump, Robert Lighthizer, Peter Navarro, and Mike Pompeo, have poisoned that relationship beyond repair. China will never ever NEVER allow itself to be in a position where it is dependent on the United States for anything. They will be a trading partner, but not a dependent ever again. Count on it.

Chinese universities are graduating 4x times as many engineers and scientists as the American universities graduate. China will just go on developing its own semiconductor industry and out compete the Unite States in the world market. China is making friends in the world while we’re making enemies.

Morning drive Polk Mountain NC to Mooresville NC on country roads – ASMR

TEHRAN – Iran and Russia, both under harsh Western sanctions, on May 17 inked an agreement on the long-stalled construction of a railway connecting the northern Iranian cities of Rasht and Astara.

The railway is key to the International North-South Transit Corridor (INSTC).

Spanning 162 km (100.6 miles), the railway is a crucial element of the INSTC. The corridor integrates road, rail, and sea transportation, facilitating the movement of goods between Russia and India via Iran.

Through a video link, Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi and his Russian counterpart Vladimir Putin addressed the ceremony in Tehran where the two countries’ transport ministers signed the agreement.

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2023 05 23 16 27

Raisi thanked Putin and the Russian government for their involvement in the initiative and referred to it as an “important strategic step” in bilateral cooperation that will benefit all countries involved in the INSTC. Putin, for his part, called the occasion a “landmark moment for the entire global transport infrastructure.”

The deal came a day after Iran’s Trade Promotion Organization chief Alireza Payman-Pak announced that Russia’s second-biggest bank, VTB, had opened a representative office in Tehran.

Peyman-Pak said that the office, which marks the first “direct presence” of a Russian bank in Iran, will be used for foreign currency transfers.

State-owned VTB was sanctioned by the EU, UK, and the US following the conflict between Russia and Ukraine in Feb. 2022.

The railway deal has been hailed by state officials and media in Iran as part of a significant future source of income.

Raisi’s Deputy Chief of Staff for Political Affairs Mohammad Jamshidi has predicted that the earnings from the INTSC would be able to rival Iran’s oil revenue. In this vein, the ISNA news agency on May 17 estimated annual revenue of $20 billion from the Corridor.

The Jam-e Jam newspaper described Iran as the “golden path of trade” in an article highlighting the potential benefits of the railway.

Meanwhile, the Tasnim News Agency said ahead of the deal that the “curse” that has so far stalled the railway project would be broken through “Russian partnership.”

India, Iran, and Russia initially struck an accord in 2002 to forge the INSTC. The ambitious undertaking aims to create a new transit route linking India to Afghanistan, Central Asia, and Russia via Iran’s southern and northern coastal regions.

The corridor is seen by Russia as a potential rival to the Suez Canal, a far longer route for trade with northern Europe.

Iran has been a key player in the INSTC and stands to benefit greatly from its full realization. As reported by Amwaj.media, the Raisi government has seemingly banked significantly on transit becoming a top revenue generator. But Iran stands to gain from the project in more ways.

The operationalization of the corridor could mean improved relations between Iran and India, aligning New Delhi more closely with Tehran’s regional interests.

A vital element of the INSTC, the Rasht-Astara railway project has been stalled for years due to costs, engineering, and logistical complications.

Leader of the Islamic Revolution Ayatollah Ali Khamenei stressed the importance of completing the stretch of railway in his July 2022 meeting with Putin in Tehran.

VTB’s new office in Tehran is part of Iran and Russia’s ongoing efforts to connect their banking systems.

The two countries signed an agreement on Jan. 29 to link their inter-bank messaging systems.

Due to Western sanctions, both countries have been cut off from SWIFT—a leading Belgium-based financial messaging service.

Both Iran and Russia are looking to reap the potential economic benefits of increased transit amid Western sanctions.

The Raisi government seeks to mitigate the adverse effects of sanctions through de-dollarization of trade and the establishment of direct banking and payment channels outside the international banking system.

Dr. Bijan Khajehpour, managing partner of the Vienna-based Eurasian Nexus Partners, told Amwaj.media that if the legal structures are put in place, it could take only a few months for VTB’s new office to process transactions. However, Khajehpour cautioned that “usually, it is the lawyers who delay such processes,” adding that “to complete the picture” it is also necessary to consider that VTB is subject to Western sanctions and that its operations in Iran “will have to rely on the agreements and structures between Moscow and Tehran, such as a non-SWIFT messaging system.”

On the political side, a successful increase in transit revenues will reinforce Iran’s “Look to the East” policy of strengthening ties with neighboring countries and eastern powers as a response to western pressure. This could encourage Raisi’s hardline supporters, who have touted Iran’s place in an emerging multipolar “new world order.”

Russia has failed to hide its angry of the rising ties between Iran and Russia. The U.S. State Department deputy spokesperson has expressed alarm about the Rashst-Astara railway deal. At a news conference on May 17, Vedant Patel stated, “We of course would find deeply concerning any steps or any project being undertaken to go around sanctions.”

In response Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesman Nasser Kanaani said the Joe Biden administration’s concerns about Tehran’s expansion of trade cooperation with other nations is “unjustified and invalid”.

Kanaani said the most recent agreement with Russia is in line with Iran’s emphasis on the policy of good neighborliness.

He stressed that the cornerstone of closer ties with neighbors is “cooperation for common security, development, and welfare.”

JOE COCKER The Letter 1970

Who is in charge – President Biden or the State Department

 

an Administration in chaos. The Americans have very little credibility left

they cannot even get the simplest things correct

the Mighty have fallen far

This is reality, we cannot be bested by these lots

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Huawei Responds To UK Ban With $1.25 Billion Charge And Withdrawal

https://youtu.be/CXyQfhU3drQ

I can play dirty, but you can’t, it’s in the rule book

“I can play dirty, but you can't, it's in the rule book”

-From HERE. United States administrator when asked why China cannot adopt the same policies that the United States routinely uses.

You know, I like Ron Unz. His site “UNZ” often has stuff; opinion and news that you will not find anywhere else. But Lordy! Is it full of racism! It drives me insane, and it’s really bothersome. I get it, you know. I understand the why. But I really don’t want to read about Jews this, and blacks that! Please.

I HATE it!

When The Garden of the Saker was up, I enjoyed it as well. But the comments were so filled with racism and hate that I just stopped reading them. Then Andre quit. He left the stage, and the Saker is no longer.

Sigh.

Life moves on…

Call me a wimp, if you will. But I want to live a sheltered life. One free of racism, and harsh opinions about broad brush-strokes about someones culture, society, color of skin, or tattoos. I don’t want to read that junk.

It gives me a headache. Ugh!

Especially if it is a ‘Bot, a mindless 11-year old, or a government paid troll. The United States is too fucked up right now.

Ugh!

Now… on to bigger and better things. You all know that I have been trying to hunt down this mysterious movie about a girl who starts work at a software campus, only to discover that she is a computer program. I’m still looking. Haven’t found it yet.

Here’s my list so far.

THE LIST

1954 — Tobor the Great — This science fiction film tells the story of a young boy, his grandfather, and his best friend — who just so happens to be a robot — as they work together to stay safe from the group of communist agents on their tail. Starring Charles Drake and Karin Booth.

1956 — 1984 — In a dystopian world, society is closely monitored by Big Brother, an omnipotent force for government surveillance. One man breaks the rules by falling in love and must pay a heavy price. Based on the novel by George Orwell.

1965 — Alphaville — A secret agent goes to the futuristic city of Alphaville to find a missing person and eventually stop the ruling dictator, professor von Braun, and his sentient computer system, Alpha 60.

1967 — Billion Dollar Brain — In this espionage thriller, Michael Caine stars as Harry Palmer, a former secret agent who unexpectedly becomes involved with a frenzied Texas oil baron (Ed Begley) working to eradicate Communism with a supercomputer.

1968 —  2001: A Space Odyssey — A group of astronauts is sent on a mysterious mission alongside the AI supercomputer H.A.L. 9000. What follows is an intense battle between man and machine, resulting in a mystifying journey through space and time.

1968 — Hot Millions — Peter Ustinov plays an embezzler who bypasses a mainframe computer’s security system to pay invoices from his fictitious companies.

1969 — The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes — Dexter Reilly (Kurt Russell) fixes a computer during an electrical storm and gets shocked. The computer’s brain has fused with his, and he’s a genius.

1969 — The Italian Job — A robber (Michael Caine) recently released from prison gets help from a group of Britain’s most infamous computer hackers to steal gold bullion from underneath the noses of the Italian police and mafia. One of the film’s most famous scenes is a massive traffic jam caused by hacking the city’s traffic control computer.

1970 — Colossus: The Forbin Project — Massive computer systems from the U.S. — “Colossus” — and Russia — “Guardian” — connect to each other. Nuclear war is threatened.

1971 — Paper Man — Five bored college students take advantage of a computer glitch and create a fictitious person, but the prank backfires.

1971 — THX 1138 — Set in a futuristic, state-controlled environment, this film follows a man and a woman, named THX 1138 and LUH 3417, respectively, as they instill a revolution upon their strictly-governed and closely-watched society.

1973 — Westworld — For one thousand dollars a day, guests of a futuristic theme park can visit recreations of different time periods and experience their wildest fantasies with lifelike androids. Pals Blane (James Brolin) and Martin (Richard Benjamin) have chosen to visit Westworld and walk the lawless streets of the American frontier. Their fantasies turn to terror, however, when a duel with a robotic gunslinger (Yul Brynner) goes terribly wrong.

1974 — The Conversation — Gene Hackman plays a surveillance expert using high-tech equipment (back in the day) to spy on a couple he fears may be in danger. Nominated for three Oscars.

1975 — Three Days of the Condor — CIA codebreaker Robert Redford tries to figure out why his own agency wants him dead.

1977 — Demon Seed — This science fiction horror film tells the story of Proteus IV, a sentient supercomputer made from artificial intelligence, who goes to incredible and dangerous lengths to attempt to become human.

1982 — Tron — One of the earliest hacking films. A computer engineer learns an executive at his company has been stealing his work and is launched into the world of virtual reality.

1983 — Brainstorm — Researchers Michael Brace (Christopher Walken) and Lillian Reynolds (Louise Fletcher) develop a system that allows the recording and playback of a person’s thoughts onto videotape. The project spins out of control when the technology is used to explore intense sexual and near-death experiences.

1983 — Superman III — Richard Pryor plays Gus Gorman, a hacker who is caught skimming from his company’s payroll through a program he developed and is then blackmailed to help turn Superman evil.

1983 — WarGames — High school student (Matthew Broderick) hacks into a military supercomputer in this classic and activates the U.S. nuclear arsenal, at a time when most people didn’t know what hacking was.

1984 — Cloak and Dagger — When 11-year-old Davey sees the murder of an FBI agent, the dying man hands him an Atari video game cartridge with military secrets. With Dabney Coleman.

1984 — Electric Dreams — Set in San Francisco, this science fiction romantic comedy is about a love triangle between an architect, a cellist, and a personal computer.

1984 — Hide and Seek — A young computer enthusiast develops a kind of artificial intelligence program named “Gregory P1.” To ensure its survival, the computer contacts other computers and begins to fight the humans. It also hooks into the mainframe computer of a nuclear power plant.

1985 — Brazil — When Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce) gets involved in a case of mistaken identity, he’s labeled as an enemy of the state by the powerful, technology-dependent bureaucracy controlling his society. On a quest to rectify the wrong, Sam meets the woman of his dreams, but, unbeknownst to him, she may be a terrorist.

1985 — Hackers: Wizards of the Electronic Age — This documentary about the hacker community includes footage of interviews with some of the programmers that created the PC revolution, including Steve Wozniak, co-founder of Apple. Filmed at a hacker conference held in Sausalito, Calif.

1985 — Max Headroom — This science fiction drama tells the origin story of its eponymous character, Max Headroom, an artificially intelligent, computer-generated television host. This film was later repurposed to serve as the pilot for a British series of the same name.

1985 — Prime Risk — Computer-savvy lovers scam Automated Teller Machines and plot to sink the Federal Reserve.

1985 — Real Genius — Two teenagers working on a laser project at a prestigious engineering college begin to question the true purpose of their work when the government steps in with intentions to use their project as a military-grade weapon. Starring Val Kilmer and Gabriel Jarret.

1985 — Weird Science — Teenagers Gary and Wyatt design their ideal woman on a computer, and a freak electrical accident brings her to life in the form of the lovely, superhuman Lisa.

1986 — Ferris Bueller’s Day Off — A high school student (Matthew Broderick) who wants the day off breaks into his school’s computer system and changes grades and attendance records.

1987 — Bellman and True — Computer expert Hiller (Bernard Hill) finds himself unemployed and is bribed into stealing confidential computer information for a group of bank robbers. He gets the job done but makes the mistake of thinking he’s seen the last of the criminals; little does Hiller know they’ve tracked him and his son to London.

1987 — Terminal Entry — Picking up where War Games left off, this film tells the story of a group of high school students who unknowingly hack into the network of a dangerous terrorist organization under the impression they’re simply playing a game — but the acts of terror caused by their actions are no joke.

1988 — Defense Play — After her father is mysteriously killed while working on a project for the U.S. Air Force, Karen (Susan Ursitti) joins forces with Scott (David Oliver), and together, the two computer-savvy students open their own investigation into the murder.

1990 — Circuitry Man — In a dystopian society, narcotics come in the form of a microchip, heavily sought after by Earth’s remaining inhabitants — two of whom are a bio-android and a female bodyguard who, after stealing said microchips, find themselves being tracked by a dangerous criminal.

1990 — Demolition Man — The year is 2032 in San Angeles, a utopian city created by the citizens of Southern California. When a violent criminal breaks out and threatens the societal peace, John Spartan (Sylvester Stallone) is awoken from 36 years spent cryogenically frozen in ice to capture the fugitive, but he becomes distracted when forced to adapt to the future society made up of voice-controlled devices, autonomous connected cars, and more.

1990 — Hardware — Starring Dylan McDermott, this film — set in a post-apocalyptic America — follows a former soldier who unknowingly gifts his girlfriend spare parts from a self-rebuilding, murderous cyborg.

1990 — The KGB, The Computer and Me — In 1986, Clifford Stoll, an astronomer turned computer scientist, began working on a computer system at the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory. At the time, two accounting programs were responsible for charging people for machine use. When Stoll discovered a 75-cent discrepancy in the normally flawless programs, he began to investigate and eventually uncovered an undocumented user named “Hunter.” As he dug deeper, he realized that Hunter had hacked into the system and installed new programs. His investigation eventually led him and U.S. intelligence to the realization that Hunter was a computer programmer who worked for the KGB.

1991 — Terminator 2: Judgment Day — A cyborg protects Sarah Connor’s teenage son John from another cyborg intent on killing him.

1992 — The Lawnmower Man —Resembling “Frankenstein,” this science fiction horror film tells the story of a scientist (Pierce Brosnan) and his experiment: a once-simple man (Jeff Fahey) who, through the power of mind-enhancing medication and computer-simulated training sessions, becomes a genius. But it isn’t long before this experiment spirals out of control.

1992 — Single White Female — A woman (played by Bridget Fonda) advertises for a roommate. She soon discovers that her new roommate is a hacker (Jennifer Jason Leigh) intent on stealing her identity.

1992 — Sneakers — A Hacker (Robert Redford) leads a team of experts who test the security of San Francisco companies. They discover a black box that can crack any encryption, posing a huge threat if it lands in the wrong hands… including rogue NSA agents.

1993 — American Cyborg: Steel Warrior — When a fleet of murderous cyborgs threatens the remaining life on Earth after a nuclear war, two of the last humans join forces to save the future of their race. A nail-biting battle ensues.

1993 — Frauds — An insurance investigator (Phil Collins) uses games and gimmicks to manipulate the lives of others, including a couple who make an unusual insurance claim. He approves the claim but makes bizarre demands as ransom.

1993 — Ghost in the Machine — A computer-powered MRI machine extracts a serial murderer’s soul, and becomes a deadly technological weapon.

1993 — Jurassic Park — Seinfeld’s nemesis “Newman” (Dennis Nery) plays an IT guy who hacks his way into a coup that involves him stealing dinosaur DNA to sell to the highest bidder.

1993 — Knights — Set in a futuristic world devastated by war, this science fiction thriller tells the story of Gabriel (Kris Kristofferson), a cyborg, and Nea (Kathy Long), a young girl, who — despite being an unlikely duo — team up against their planet’s dominant, blood-thirsty army of cyborgs to save the human race.

1994 — Disclosure — Starring Demi Moore and Michael Douglas, this thriller balances both the virtual and physical worlds, telling the story of a senior executive at a technology company who’s on track for a big promotion — that is, until his fate falls into the hands of his ex-girlfriend, who is determined to revive their relationship … with or without consent.  

1994 — Plughead Rewired: Circuitry Man II — The sequel to 1990’s Circuitry Man follows a female FBI agent and an android named Danner as they track down Plughead — a notorious criminal known for making and selling microchips that promise an extended life to those who take them.

1995 — Ghost in the Shell — In this animated Japanese sci-fi epic, a cyborg policewoman and her partner hunt a cybercriminal called the Puppet Master, who hacks into the brains of cyborgs to get information and use it to commit crimes.  (Scarlett Johansson stars in a 2017 live-action remake.)

1995 — GoldenEye — James Bond tries to stop a Russian crime syndicate from using a stolen space-based weapons program and falls into the clutches of an evil genius who plans to rule Earth from cyberspace.

1995 — Hackers —A teenage hacker is back on the scene seven years after being banned from computers for writing a virus that caused the biggest stock exchange crash in history. He and his friends must prove that a sinister superhacker is framing them for a plot to embezzle funds from a large oil company with a computer worm. With Angelina Jolie.

1995 — Johnny Mnemonic — A computer chip implanted in his brain allows a human data trafficker (Keanu Reeves) to securely store and transport data too sensitive for regular computer networks. When he gets a valuable package that exceeds the chip’s storage capacity, the mnemonic courier must deliver the data within 24 hours or die. Assassins are intent on helping him do just that.

1995 — Judge Dredd — Judge Dredd (Sylvester Stallone) is sent to a penal colony for a murder he didn’t commit. On his way there, he gets an unexpected sidekick when he reunites with Herman “Fergee” Ferguson (Rob Schneider), a hacker he previously busted for destruction of property.

1995 — The Net — A computer programmer (Sandra Bullock) who lives a reclusive life is looking forward to time off when she becomes aware of a conspiracy. Her vacation turns into a nightmare when someone tries to kill her and her identity is stolen. She must prove who she is while trying to figure out why someone wants her dead.

1995 — Under Siege 2: Dark Territory — Steven Seagal returns as ex-Navy SEAL Casey Ryback in this sequel to Under Siege, which finds Ryback and his niece Sarah (Katherine Heigl) on a train headed from Denver to Los Angeles. When the train is hijacked by a psychotic computer genius and his fellow terrorist, who need it for their plot to take control of a top-secret satellite, Ryback enlists the help of a train porter (Morris Chestnut) to foil their plan.

1996 — Independence Day — In an epic fight against an alien race, computer expert David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum) achieves a crucial win when he hacks into the fleet of spaceships coming toward Earth, infecting them with a virus and putting a stop to the looming alien invasion.

1996 — Lawnmower Man 2: Beyond Cyberspace — On a mission for world domination, Jobe (Matt Frewer), a virtual reality-based consciousness, is determined to hack into all the world’s computers, but his plans are thwarted by Peter (Austin O’Brien) and Benjamin (Patrick Bergin), whose unfaltering passion to save the world — and cyberspace — inspires an all-out war.

1996 — Omega Doom — In a world dominated by violent cyborgs, there is little-to-no hope for what’s left of humanity … that is, until one such cyborg — Omega Doom — is struck in the head, causing his wires to short and recircut, leading to a newfound interest in defeating his own kind.

1997 — Masterminds — The new security chief at a prestigious private school plans to even a score by kidnapping several of the wealthy students and holding them for ransom. A teenage computer hacker, expelled from the school for pulling pranks, thwarts his plans.

1998 — 23 — After an orphan invests some of his inheritance in a home computer, he begins discussing conspiracy theories inspired by a novel on bulletin boards. He’s soon hacking military and government computers with a friend. Based on a true story.

1998 — Enemy of the State — A lawyer (Will Smith) isn’t aware that a videotape in his possession proves a congressman was murdered for opposing surveillance legislation. When he becomes the target of a corrupt NSA official and his life begins to fall apart, he enlists the help of an ex-intelligence operative (Gene Hackman).

1998 — Mercury Rising (Code Mercury) — A renegade FBI agent (Bruce Willis) must protect a 9-year-old autistic boy who has cracked encrypted government code that was supposed to be unbreakable.

1998 — Pi — Is there a mathematical key that can unlock the universal patterns in nature? If found, can that key predict anything — even the stock market? A brilliant, obsessed, and paranoid mathematician who barricades himself in a room filled with computer equipment intends to find that key, but might go mad while doing so.

1998 — Webmaster — In this Danish sci-fi thriller, a powerful crime leader hires a hacker to monitor the security of his computer operations. When someone else hacks into the database, the webmaster must go to extremes to find him, or die within 35 hours.

1999 — Entrapment — An undercover art investigator (Catherine Zeta-Jones) is intent on tracking down and capturing a renowned thief (Sean Connery). They end up attempting a heist together.

1999 — eXistenZ — Computer programmer Allegra Geller’s (Jennifer Jason Leigh) latest creation, the hyper-realistic virtual reality game eXistenZ, takes a dangerous turn when a crazed assassin becomes intent on destroying it. With help from Ted Pikul (Jude Law), Allegra sets out to save the game, and her life.

1999 — The Matrix — In a dystopian future, humanity is unknowingly trapped inside the Matrix, a simulated reality created by intelligent machines to distract humans while they use their bodies as an energy source. A computer programmer / hacker known as Neo (Keanu Reeves) discovers the truth and joins forces with other rebels to free humankind.

1999 — Office Space —They’re supposed to be part of one big happy family, but three computer programmers hate their jobs and their boss. They concoct a scheme to embezzle small amounts of money from the high-tech company that employs them, but a mistake results in a bigger theft than planned. With Jennifer Anniston.

1999 — NetForce — In the year 2005, NetForce, a division of the FBI, is tasked with protecting the Net from terrorism. A loophole in a browser allows someone to gain control of the Internet and all the information it holds. Now the commander of NetForce must stop him, as he also tracks down a killer.

1999 — Pirates of Silicon Valley — This biographical drama about the development of the personal computer and the rivalry between Apple Computer and Microsoft spans the years 1971 – 1997. Noah Wyle portrays Steve Jobs and Anthony Michael Hall stars as Bill Gates.

1999 — The Thirteenth Floor — This science-fiction neo-noir film begins in 1999 in Los Angeles when the inventor of a newly completed virtual reality simulation of the city in 1937 is murdered. A computer scientist he has mentored (played by Craig Bierko) becomes the primary suspect and begins to doubt his own innocence because of the evidence against him. He eventually enters the simulation to unravel the truth and realizes nothing is as it seems.

2000 — Takedown — Also known as “Track Down,” the controversial movie version of the manhunt for legendary hacker Kevin Mitnick is based on the book by Tsutomu Shimomura, “Takedown: The Pursuit and Capture of Kevin Mitnick, America’s Most Wanted Computer Outlaw – By The Man Who Did It.”

2001 — A.I. Artificial Intelligence —  In this Pinocchio-esque tale, David (Haley Joel Osment) — a sentient, artificially-created robot — wishes to become a real boy, longing for a stronger connection with his human mother.

2001 — Antitrust — When a college graduate (Ryan Phillippe) gets a job writing software at a multi-billion dollar computer company, he has no idea that the founder (Tim Robbins) and new mentor is hiding dark secrets. Is there anyone he can trust?

2001 — The Code — This documentary covers the first decade of GNU/Linux and features some of the most influential people of the free software (FOSS) movement.

2001 — Freedom Downtime — This documentary covers the plight of convicted computer hacker Kevin Mitnick, from the standpoint that Miramax misrepresented him in the film “Takedown.” It includes the story of several computer enthusiasts who confront Miramax reps about their discontent with aspects of the script, including the film’s ending.

2001 — Revolution OS — The history of GNU, Linux, and the open source and free software movements is traced in this documentary. It features several interviews with prominent hackers and entrepreneurs.

2001 — The Score — An aging safecracker (Robert De Niro) plans to retire, but his fence (Marlon Brando) talks him into one final score, stealing one of Canada’s natural treasures hidden in the basement of a Customs House. He joins forces with another thief (Edward Norton) who hires someone to hack into the Custom House’s security system, but things go wrong.

2001 — Secret History of Hacking — The focus of this documentary is phreaking, computer hacking, and social engineering occurring from the 1970s through the 1990s. John Draper, Steve Wozniak, and Kevin Mitnick are prominently featured.

2001 — Swordfish — A spy named Gabriel (John Travolta) plots to steal a large fortune. He enlists Ginger (Halle Berry) to persuade Stanley (Hugh Jackman), who spent two years in prison for hacking an FBI program, to help. But what is Gabriel really up to, and who or what is really behind the plot?

2002 — Catch Me if You CanFrank Abagnale is one of the world’s most respected authorities on forgery, embezzlement, and secure documents. His riveting story provided the inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s film starring Leonardo DiCaprio as Abagnale and Tom Hanks as the FBI agent fast on his heels.

2002 — Cypher — Morgan Sullivan (Jeremy Northam) is an accountant turned corporate spy working for a global computer corporation.  When a mysterious woman suggests his job isn’t what it seems, Morgan ascends into a complicated world of brainwashing, where he struggles to maintain his true identity.

2002 — Half the Rent — Otherwise known as Halbe Miete, this film follows a computer hacker (Stephan Kampwirth) who, after the sudden death of his girlfriend, breaks into — and camps out at — other people’s apartments when they’re not home. But when what started as a temporary solution to homelessness becomes a dangerous obsession, will the risk outweigh the reward?

2002 — Minority Report — It’s 2054 and a specialized Pre-Crime police department in D.C. stops crimes before they are committed based on information from Pre-Cogs, three psychic beings who channel their visions into a computer. When they accuse the unit chief (Tom Cruise) of a future murder, he becomes a fugitive, hunted by his own department.

2002 — Storm Watch — A champion player of virtual reality games must suddenly race against time to stop a criminal mastermind who has stolen his identify from destroying the world with a weather satellite. Also known as “Code Hunter.”

2002 — Terminal Error — A former employee of a major software company gets even with the president by planting a computer virus on an MP3 and giving it to his son. His plan is to crash the computer terminals, but the virus has a mind of its own and begins to take out large portions of the city. Father and son must create their own virus to stop the chaos.

2003 — Code 46 — In a dystopian world, citizens are forbidden to travel outside their cities without special permits from the totalitarian government. When forged permits start to circulate, William Gold (Tim Robbins) is tasked with investigating, finding, and taking down the individual responsible, though he never expects to fall in love with her.

2003 — The Core — After several bizarre incidents across the globe, a geophysicist and scientists determine that the planet’s molten core has stopped rotating and that the magnetic field will collapse within a year. They devise a plan to bore down to the core and set off nuclear explosions to restart the rotation and enlist a hacker to scour the internet and eliminate all traces of the pending disaster to prevent worldwide panic.

2003 — Foolproof — Kevin (Ryan Reynolds) is part of a friend group with an odd hobby: they plan heists, yet never carry them out despite being perfectly able to do so. But when their plans fall into the wrong hands, the friends are thrust into the criminal world as they’re forced to carry out a jewelry warehouse heist that was never supposed to see the light of day.

2003 — In the Realm of the Hackers — This documentary reveals how and why two Australian teenager computer hackers, Electron and Phoenix, stole a restructured computer security list in the late 1980s and used it to break into some of the world’s most classified and secure computer systems.

2003 — The Italian Job — After a thief (Edward Norton) turns on his partners and gets away with the gold they’ve stolen in a heist, his former team seeks revenge.

2003 — The Matrix Reloaded — With the help of Neo (Keanu Reeves), Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), and other freedom fighters, more and more humans have been freed from the Matrix and brought to Zion. But 250,000 machines are digging towards the stronghold and will reach them in 72 hours, so they must prepare for war.

2003 — Paycheck — Michael Jennings (Ben Affleck) makes good money working on top-secret projects and then agreeing to have his memory erased, until a payment of $92 million for a three-year assignment is canceled. With his life in danger, he must get help from a scientist (Uma Thurman) he doesn’t remember dating to figure out the importance of seemingly random items.

2004 — One Point O — Simon (Jeremy Sisto), a young, paranoid computer programmer, finds himself on the receiving end of a series of mysteriously empty packages. Little does he know these deliveries are only the tip of a reality-bending iceberg that will change his life forever.

2004 — Paranoia 1.0 — A computer programmer receives mysterious empty packages inside his apartment and tries to find out who’s sending them, why, and who he can trust. Also known as “One Point O.”

2005 — V for Vendetta — In a dystopian future, a tyrannical British government imposes a strict curfew following the outbreak of a virus. An anarchist in a smiling Guy Fawkes mask seeks revenge with the help of a young woman and hacks into the television network to urge others to revolt against tyranny.

2006 — Deja Vu — Doug Carlin (Denzel Washington) is an ATF agent working to capture the terrorist responsible for a ferry bombing that killed hundreds. Using an advanced form of surveillance technology, Doug travels back in time, on a mission to prevent the crime, but his newfound obsession with one of the victims puts everything at risk.

2006 — The Departed — Boston police officer Billy (Leonardo DiCaprio) goes undercover to infiltrate — and take down — the dangerous Irish gang tearing up his city, led by Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson). Becoming consumed by his secret life, Billy loses sight of his mission, though everything comes back into perspective when a career criminal infiltrates and begins threatening the police department.

2006 — Firewall — When his family is taken hostage, a security specialist (Harrison Ford) who designs theft-proof computer systems for financial institutions must break into his own system and steal millions of dollars to pay off their ransom.

2006 — Hacking Democracy — This documentary investigates allegations of election fraud during the 2004 U.S. presidential election. It follows Bev Harris, the founder of Black Box Voting, a nonprofit consumer-protection group, and other citizen activists who set out to uncover flaws in the voting system.

2006 — In Ascolto — Also known as The Listening, this film takes inspiration from the mass surveillance operations of the National Security Agency (NSA), chronicling the experience of a spy (Michael Parks) working undercover to get on the inside of a counter-listening station in the Italian Alps.

2006 — Man of the Year — A satirical political talk show host (Robin Williams) runs for president and gets elected with the help of fans who begin a grassroots campaign. It’s later revealed that his presidency was the result of a computerized voting machine malfunction.

2006 — The Net 2.0 — A young computer systems analyst arrives in Istanbul to start a new job, but finds out her identity has been stolen. She must catch who did it to get her life back.

2006 — Pulse — In this remake of a Japanese horror film, a student is shocked when her boyfriend, a computer hacker, commits suicide. Then she and her friends receive online messages from him, asking for help. Another computer hacker must help her stop a supernatural plague traveling through the network.

2006 — A Scanner Darkly — This computer-animated adaptation of Philip K Dick’s 1977 sci-fi novel is set in the near-future. The U.S.’s war on drugs, particularly a hyper-addictive substance called D (for Death), prompts the enforcement of a police state that uses numberless surveillance scanners.

2007 — Bourne Ultimatum — Operative Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) teams up with an investigative reporter to find the people who betrayed him, while a ruthless CIA official and his team continue to track him down in the hopes of assassinating him before he gets his memory back.

2007 — Breach – This docudrama is based on the events leading up to the capture of FBI Agent Robert Hanssen, convicted of selling secrets to the Soviet Union. A low-level surveillance expert gets promoted and assigned to work with Hanssen, unaware that he is to find proof that he is a traitor.

2007 — Every Step You Take — This documentary is an in-depth look at modern-day Britain and its Orwell-esque levels of government surveillance. It explores the pros and cons of CCTV, highlighted by commentary from notable experts in the field.

2007 — Live Free or Die Hard — As the nation prepares to celebrate Independence Day, a disgruntled government security agent launches an attack on America’s computer infrastructure. Veteran cop John McClane (Bruce Willis) and a young hacker must help the F.B.I.’s cyber division take him down.

2008 — 21 — Six Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) students hack their way to success — and millions of dollars — in Las Vegas casinos by counting cards until casino enforcer Cole Williams (Laurence Fishburne) thwarts their plans. Based on a true story.

2008 — Download: The True Story of the Internet — Told through personal accounts from the founders of Yahoo, eBay, Google, Amazon, and many others, this documentary tells the story of how the internet became what it is today.

2008 — Eagle Eye — Two strangers, Jerry and Rachel, come together after receiving mysterious calls from a woman they never met. She threatens their lives and family to push them into a series of dangerous situations, controlling their actions using cellphones and other technology.

2008 — Hackers are People Too — Hackers created this documentary to portray their community and break down negative stereotypes. It describes what hacking is, how hackers think, and discusses women in the field.

2008 — Untraceable — Agent Jennifer Marsh (Diane Lane) of the Cyber Crimes Division of the FBI in Portland tries to track down a psychopathic hacker killing people online in live streaming video. As his site gets more hits, victims die faster.

2008 — WarGames: The Dead Code 2008 — Is an American teen hacker playing a terrorist-attack simulator game online a real terrorist intent on destroying the United States? That’s what Homeland Security believes and they set out to apprehend him.

2009 — Echelon Conspiracy — When tech whiz Max Peterson (Shane West) gets sent a mysterious cell phone in the mail, he’s unsure of where it came from or what it is — until it starts sending instructions on how to win at the local casino. But it isn’t long before Max’s newfound luck puts him at the center of a dangerous government conspiracy dealing with the world’s security cameras. Will he make it out alive?

2009 — Eyeborgs — In the aftermath of a major terrorist attack, government surveillance in the U.S. is taken to the next level via robotic cameras called “Eyeborgs,” which track and monitor all citizens for suspicious behavior. But when photographic evidence from the Eyeborgs doesn’t line up with the facts in an ongoing murder investigation, a federal agent starts to wonder, who’s really controlling these cameras and what do they want?

2009 — Gamer — Controlled by a teenage gamer’s remote device, death-row inmate Kable must battle fellow prisoners every week in a violent online game. Can he survive enough sessions to gain his freedom, free his wife from avatar slavery, and take down the game’s inventor?

2009 — The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo — A journalist searches for the killer of a woman who has been dead for forty years, with the help of a young female hacker. When they unravel dark family secrets, they must protect themselves. This Swedish language film was remade in English in 2011.

2009 — Hackers Wanted — This unreleased American documentary originally named “Can You Hack It?” follows the adventures of Adrian Lamo, a famous hacker, and explores the origins of hacking and nature of hackers.

2009 — Shadow Government — What impact does the technological landscape have on our daily lives? This documentary, led by Grant Jeffrey, explores exactly how much of our lives are being digitized and observed in the modern era.

2009 — Transcendent Man — The subject of this documentary from filmmaker Robert Barry Ptolemy is Ray Kurzweil, inventor, futurist and author, and his predictions about the future of technology, presented in his 2005 book, The Singularity is Near: When Humans Transcend Biology. Ptolemy follows Kurzweil on his world speaking tour, where he discusses his thoughts on the technological singularity, a proposed advancement that will occur sometime in the 21st century due to progress in artificial intelligence, genetics, nanotechnology, and robotics.

2009 — We Live in Public — Directed by Ondi Timoner, this documentary profiles Josh Harris, “the greatest Internet pioneer you’ve never heard of.” An early dot.com entrepreneur, Harris founded Psuedo.com, an early streaming content service. In 1999, he began an experiment called “Quiet,” in which 100 men and women agreed to give up their privacy to live together under constant video surveillance, so their lives could be streamed online.

2010 — Inception — A thief (Leonardo DiCaprio) who can enter people’s dreams and steal their secrets begins using his gift for corporate espionage. Can he also plant an idea into someone’s mind? The film won four Oscars.

2010 — The Social Network — Jesse Eisenberg portrays Harvard student and computer genius Mark Zuckerberg in this drama about the creation of a social networking site that would become Facebook.

2010 — Tron Legacy — In this revamped Tron continuation, Sam (Garrett Hedlund) searches in and out of the computer world for his father, Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges), a brilliant computer programmer.

2011 — Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol — When mega-spy Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) is blamed for a terrorist attack on the Kremlin, he and others from his agency, the Impossible Missions Force (IMF), must prove their innocence.

2011 — StuxNet: Cyberwar — First discovered in 2010, the StuxNet computer worm marked the beginning of a new era in cybercrime, attacking — and causing substantial damage to — an Iranian nuclear program. This documentary explores the malware’s origins alongside its contributions to the advancement of cyber warfare technology.

2012 — Code 2600 — This documentary explores the rise of the Information Technology Age through the eyes of the people who helped build it and the events that shaped it.

2012 — Genius on Hold — The downfall of Walter L. Shaw, a telecommunications genius who became destitute, and his disillusioned son, who became a notorious jewel thief, are the subjects of this documentary.

2012 — Owned & Operated —  Using the lens of the internet, this documentary proves just how much we matter … as consumers, that is. Society today practically lives for privileged individuals — celebrities and politicians, among others — unknowingly adhering to their wicked ways of gaining control, but there is an awakening on the horizon, and it’s going to change everything.

2012 – Panopticon – Living in the digital age, do we really have privacy? This documentary examines how much our daily lives are controlled and watched by omnipresent surveillance, which — as technology advances — has only become harder to avoid.

2012 — Reboot — A young female hacker can’t remember a traumatic event that leaves her with an iPhone glued to her hand. The phone’s timer is counting down to zero and fellow hackers must help her solve the puzzle.

2012 — Shadows of Liberty — Should we trust the media? This documentary examines the five big for-profit conglomerates that control 90 percent of U.S.-based media, raising questions of who to believe in today’s political, economical, and social world.

2012 — Skyfall — James Bond (Daniel Craig) must prove he still has what it takes as he tracks down the source of a cyber-terror attack at M16 headquarters and goes up against a genius hacker.

2012 — Tracked Down — Directed by Paul Moreira, this documentary explains how governments around the world monitor their citizens through advanced electronic warfare equipment — equipment that has fallen into the hands of repressive dictatorial regimes in Libya, Syria and Bahrain. Moreira reveals how the technology can be traded in stealth and traces these deals to their source.

2012 — Underground: The Julian Assange Story — This Australian film follows the early career of the WikiLeaks founder, from his start as a teenage computer hacker in Melbourne.

2012 — We Are Legion: The Story of the Hacktivists — Filmmaker Brian Knappenberger documents the hacking group Anonymous, including interviews from group members.

2013 — The Assange Agenda: Surveillance, Democracy and You — At what point does government surveillance put democracy at risk? According to Julian Assange — founder of Wikileaks — we’re already there. This documentary explores what may lay ahead for today’s digital world if we don’t gain control over the various agencies spying on us.

2013 — Big Data: The Shell Investigation — In the digital age, a journalist’s sources are endless — when consulting big data, that is. This documentary showcases how a team of journalists used easily accessible channels, such as LinkedIn and Wikipedia, to piece together the truth about Royal Dutch Shell’s two-billion-dollar debt to the Iranian government.

2013 — The Bling Ring — Nicki (Emma Watson) and her fame-obsessed group of friends will do anything to make a name for themselves in Hollywood, including breaking into — and robbing — the homes of elite celebrities, which, if not for the internet, would never have been possible.

2013 — DEFCON: The Documentary — The world’s largest hacking conference, DEFCON, has long since had a strict no-camera policy … until now. This documentary follows the four days of DEFCON’s 20th-anniversary event, highlighted by commentary from attendees and staff.

2013 — Disconnect — Three intersecting stories center around the impact of the Internet on people’s lives. The characters include a victim of cyberbullying, a lawyer who communicates constantly through his cell phone but can’t find time to connect with his family, and a couple whose secrets are exposed online.

2013 — DSKNECTD — Do electronic devices bring people together or pull them apart? This documentary examines how human interaction has changed in light of the rise of technologies such as cell phones, social media, and the internet.

2013 — 

2013 — The Fifth Estate — Based on real events, the film begins as WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Daniel Domscheit-Berg join forces as underground watchdogs and create a platform for whistleblowers to leak covert data to expose government secrets and corporate crimes.

2013 — Goodbye World — More than one million cellphones simultaneously receive a two-word message, followed by the collapse of the power grid and widespread panic. A group of people who find shelter in a cabin soon find out what it’s like to live in a post-apocalyptic world.

2013 — Google and the World Brain —   The Google Books Library Project is certainly ambitious, but is it feasible? This documentary examines Google’s plan to open the world’s largest virtual library, as well as the many issues that may stem from it, such as copyright infringement and lack of online privacy.

2013 — Her — In this futuristic story, a lonely writer ( Joaquin Phoenix ) develops an unlikely relationship with an operating system designed to meet his every need.

2013 — Identity Thief — When a woman (Melissa McCarthy) steals the identity of Sandy Patterson (Jason Bateman), a financial firm account executive, and wrecks his credit rating, he sets out to confront her.

2013 — In Google We Trust — Who’s keeping tabs on your data? This revealing documentary gives viewers an inside look into how — and why — our digital interactions are tracked and recorded. If you’re worried about the consequences, watch this now.

2013 — Mickey Virus — In this Bollywood hacker comedy, Delhi Police must seek the help of a lazy hacker to solve a case.

2013 — Terms and Conditions May Apply — This documentary exposes how much the Internet and cellphone usage allows corporations and governments to learn about people.

2013 — TPB AFK: The Pirate Bay Away from Keyboard —This Swedish documentary film, directed and produced by Simon Klose, focuses on the lives of the three founders of The Pirate Bay — Peter Sunde, Fredrik Neij, and Gottfrid Svartholm — and the Pirate Bay trial.

2013 — The Value of Your Personal Data — Produced by the acclaimed VPRO series, this documentary discusses the companies that collect your personal data, who buys it from them, how it is used, and who owns it. It also gives advice on how you can gain back control of it and stop being targeted and manipulated.

2013 — War on Whistleblowers: Free Press and the National Security State — This documentary by Robert Greenwald highlights four cases — Michael DeKort, Thomas Drake, Franz Gayl and Thomas Tamm — where American government employees and contractors exposed fraud and abuse through the media at the risk of their personal and professional lives.

2014 — Algorithm — A computer hacker who specializes in breaking into secure systems, including the telephone company and people’s personal accounts, hacks a government contractor and discovers a mysterious computer program, thrusting him into a revolution.

2014 — The Bureau of Digital Sabotage — What is privacy? This documentary argues it is nonexistent in today’s digital age, delving into our new reality and its most crucial issues by asking citizens to stand up when mass surveillance crosses the line.

2014 — Citizenfour — This documentary by Laura Poitras about whistleblower Edward Snowden and the NSA spying scandal includes interviews of Snowden in Hong Kong in 2013 and features work by journalist Glenn Greenwald.

2014 — Digital Amnesia — An in-depth investigation into the shelf life of digital data and the vulnerable nature in which we store information today, featuring commentary from organizations such as Internet Archive and The Archive Team.

2014 — Ex Machina — A young programmer wins a competition that makes him the human component in a groundbreaking experiment where he must evaluate the capabilities and consciousness of Ava, a breathtaking A.I.

2014 — The Hackers Wars — This documentary discusses hacktivism in the United States, including the government’s surveillance and persecution of hackers and journalists.

2014 — The Human Face of Big Data — This documentary, directed by Sandy Smolan and narrated by Joel McHale, initially focuses on Big Data’s positive aspects, such as how the massive gathering and analyzing of data in real-time through a multitude of digital devices allows us to address some of humanity’s biggest challenges and improve lives globally. It also highlights how the accessibility of this data comes at a steep price.

2014 — The Imitation Game — M16, the newly created British intelligence agency, recruits mathematician Alan Turing (Benedict Cumberbatch) and his team to crack the Germany’s Enigma code during World War II. Nominated for 8 Oscars.

2014 — Inside The Dark Web — Internet surveillance takes center stage in this documentary that details the pros and cons of the World Wide Web. With all types of surveillance taking place globally — government, commercial, and more — what does the future look like for those living in the digital age?

2014 — The Internet’s Own Boy: The Story of Aaron Swartz — Filmmaker Brian Knappenberger explores the life and work of Reddit co-founder Aaron Swartz, a programming prodigy and information activist who committed suicide at the age of 26.

2014 — Killswitch — In a world where we rely so heavily on the internet, what happens if it comes under attack? This award-winning documentary centers on the threat of internet censorship and what we risk losing if we don’t fight back, such as free speech, democracy, and innovation.

2014 — Men, Women and Children — What does it mean to be a parent in the age of social media? This film follows multiple families, each with their own relationships to the internet, as they overcome various challenges, including eating disorders and video game culture.

2014 — Open Windows — A blogger finds out he’s won a dinner with an actress he devotes his website to and is disappointed when she cancels. When he gets a chance to spy on her every move with his laptop, his life gets crazy.

2014 — The Signal — Nic, who is a student at MIT, is on a road trip with two companions when an annoying computer hacker distracts them. They track him to an abandoned shack. After strange occurrences, Nik wakes up wounded and disoriented, wondering what has happened to his friends, and who are these people in space suits?

2014 — Transcendence — Dr. Will Caster, renowned artificial intelligence researcher, is on a controversial quest to create a fully sentient machine, but are the dangerous consequences that follow worth it? This science-fiction thriller stars Johnny Depp, Rebecca Hall, Morgan Freeman, and Paul Bettany, among others.

2014 — Unfriended — a mysterious, supernatural force haunts a group of online chat room friends using the account of their dead friend.

2014 — Who Am I — A subversive hacker group intent on gaining global fame invites a young German computer whiz to join them.

2015 — Big Data: Unlocking Success — Experts from Berkeley Research Group, Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, and Microsoft look into the use of data science and its allied fields in this documentary, noting several real-life examples, including events at Johns Hopkins University and MGM Resorts International.

2015 — Blackhat — Convicted hacker Nicholas Hathaway (Chris Hemsworth) joins a team of American and Chinese technical experts to track down a Balkan cyberterrorist operating in Southeast Asia.

2015 — Cyberbully — In this made-for-TV movie, A British teenage girl (Emily Osment) retreats from family and friends when a computer hacker forces her to do his bidding, threatening to leak compromising photos of her if she doesn’t do what he asks.

2015 — Cybertopia: Dreams of Silicon Valley — A technological revolution is looming in Silicon Valley. This documentary explores the future of digitized reality, as well as how daily life has already changed as a result of the dedicated individuals residing in California’s tech headquarters.

2015 — Debug — Six young hackers assigned to fix the computer system on a vessel drifting in deep space become prey to an artificial intelligence source intent on becoming human.

2015 — Deep Web — Filmmaker Alex Winter interviews the people behind the Deep Web and bitcoin and follows the arrest and trial of Ross Ulbricht (“Dread Pirate Roberts”), founder of online black market Silk Road.

2015 — Democracy: Im Rausch der Daten — From Swiss director David Bernet, this documentary tells the story of how politicians in the EU are working to protect society from the dangers of Big Data and mass surveillance.

2015 — Digitale Dissidenten — What price do whistleblowers pay? Interviews with David Ellsberg, Edward Snowden, William Binney, Thomas Drake, Annie Machon, and Julian Assange shed light on the cost of having a conscience in the dark world of government surveillance.

2015 — Furious 7 —Mr. Nobody (Kurt Russell), a government operative, enlists Dominic Toretto to find a hacker who has created God’s Eye, a device that can hack any technology that uses a camera. In return, they can use the device to find and stop Deckard Shaw (Jason Statham), who is seeking revenge against Toretto and his crew for his comatose brother.

2015 — A Good American — This documentary film tells the story of Bill Binney, former technical director of the NSA, a group of exceptional code-breakers, and a program called ThinThread, which, if not dumped three weeks prior to 9/11, would’ve been able to stop the terrorist attacks that took almost 3,000 lives.

2015 — Hacker’s Game — A cyber-detective working for a human rights organization and a hacking expert with shady connections meet on a rooftop and bond over a game of virtual chess. Will their romance survive deception?

2015 — Jobs vs. Gates: The Hippie and The Nerd — This documentary tells the story of two of the biggest men in tech, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, and the spectacular rivalry between them. Despite landing on two different sides of the battle between Mac and PC, Jobs and Gates’ mutual respect for one another endured the test of time.

2015 — Mapping the Future — Are our lives predictable? If you take the internet’s overflowing amount of data into consideration, the answer is yes. This documentary explores how the abundance of data gathered on the internet in recent years led to a mathematical algorithm for human life.

2015 — Terminal F/Chasing Edward Snowden — This documentary discusses what motivated Edward Snowden, an NSA analyst-turned whistleblower, to leak classified information about global surveillance programs used by the American government, leading him to flee to Hong Kong and later to Russia to evade authorities.

2015 — The Throwaways — Drew (Sam Huntington) is an infamous hacker who is captured by the CIA for a slew of cybercrimes. However, his impending jail sentence is renounced after the CIA gives him an alternate option — work for them. Sam agrees, but on one condition: he gets to build his own team.

2015 — War for the Web — Directed by J. C. Cameron Brueckner, this documentary demystifies the physical infrastructure of the internet and explores the issues of ownership and competition in the broadband marketplace, privacy, and security.

2016 — Anonymous — A young Ukrainian immigrant turns to hacking and identity theft to support his parents, with help from a friend who is a black-market dealer. Petty crimes soon escalate. The film is also known as “Hacker.”

2016 — Backlight: Cyberjihad — Can social media become a weapon? This documentary examines jihadism and its online presence, which, without any hindrance, has only grown larger over the past fifteen years.

2016 — Cyber War — Hackers pose a universal threat; how can we defend ourselves? This documentary explores how governments are building up protection against the ever-growing number of digital threats, including by recruiting those with the brains to wage cyberwar and espionage when necessary.

2016 — Data Center: The True Cost of the Internet — Every day, 247 billion emails are sent through the web. Have you ever wondered what powers them? This eye-opening, high-tech documentary takes viewers inside the digital warehouses that run the internet, otherwise known as data centers.

2016 — Down the Deep, Dark Web — Venture down the internet’s rabbit hole into the secretive world of the dark web, guided by crypto-anarchists, cypherpunks, and hackers. This documentary will make you question everything you thought you knew about the darknet.

2016 — Gringo: The Dangerous Life of John McAfee — Complex antivirus pioneer John McAfee made millions before leaving the U.S. to live in a compound in the jungle in Belize. This Showtime documentary, which he calls fiction, portrays his life in Belize and 2012 departure after a neighbor was murdered.

2016 — The Haystack — Due to sophisticated hacking techniques and the terrorist organizations that often use them, the British Parliament began reviewing the Investigatory Powers Bill, legislation that would provide more leniency in the interception of private email and phone communications. Prior to the bill passing in 2016, this documentary examined how effective it would be, if it was necessary, and what citizens would have to give up once the bill was implemented.

2016 — I.T. — Aviation tycoon Mike Regan (Pierce Brosnan) hires an I.T. consultant on a temporary basis to do some work at his house and is so impressed he gives him a full-time job. He’s fired when he oversteps boundaries and seeks revenge against the businessman and his family.

2016 — Jason Bourne — Former CIA agent Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is drawn out of hiding to uncover more about his past while fighting cyberterrorism.

2016 — Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World — Filmmaker Werner Herzog examines the Internet and how it affects human interaction and modern society.

2016 — National Bird — A chilling documentary in which three military veterans blow the whistle on the secret U.S. drone war, highlighting America’s modern warfare program through the harrowing experiences of those involved.

2016 — Nerve — Friends pressure a high school senior to join the popular online game Nerve. She becomes caught up in the thrill of the adrenaline-fueled competition, partnered with a mysterious stranger, but the game takes a sinister turn.

2016 — Offline is the New Luxury — Since the dawn of the internet, humanity has slowly but surely become increasingly dependent on various smart devices — phones, tablets, and laptops alike. This documentary asks one poignant question: what would the world be without them?

2016 — Rise of the Trolls — Is being anonymous a blessing or a curse? In this documentary, filmmakers Jonathan Baltrusaitis and Paul Kemp explore the unnerving truths surrounding internet anonymity, dark instincts, and freedom in cyberspace.

2016 — Risk — Laura Poitras spent six years making this documentary about WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange, who gave her the opportunity to closely film him but later tried to censor the film.

2016 — Silicon Cowboys — This documentary tells the true story of how three unsuspecting friends became computing pioneers by dreaming up the Compaq Computer — a portable PC that would directly impact the future of computing and consequently shape the world we live in today.

2016 — Snowden — Joseph Gordon-Levitt stars as Edward J. Snowden in Oliver Stone’s biopic of the former National Security Agency contractor who becomes disillusioned with the intelligence community and leaks classified information, becoming a fugitive from law and a hero to many.

2016 — State of Surveillance — In this documentary film, Edward Snowden — infamously known for leaking classified information from the National Security Agency — invites viewers into the disturbing world of government surveillance. A must-see for anyone who feels like they’re being watched.

2016 — Stingray — This documentary enlightens viewers to just how advanced surveillance technology has become, highlighting the Stingray, which, despite going by many different names, has certified itself as one of the most powerful surveillance devices of all time, though many see it as an invasion of privacy.

2016 — What Makes You Click — Described as both a fascinating psychological study and a gripping cautionary tale, this documentary from the VPRO Backlight series discusses how companies adapt their websites and apps to get consumers to stay on them longer and spend more money.

2016 — Zero Days — Alex Gibney’s documentary focuses on Stuxnet, or “Operation Olympic Games,” a malicious computer worm developed by the United States and Israel to sabotage a key part of Iran’s nuclear program.

2017 — AlphaGo — Can an AI challenger defeat a legendary master in the game of Go? The battle between man and machine takes center stage in this documentary film chronicling Lee Sedol’s nail-biting match against AlphaGo, a computer program devised by Deep Mind Technologies to master the 3,000-year-old game.

2017 — The Circle — Mae (Emma Watson) lands a dream job at a technology and social media company called the Circle. She is soon handpicked by the founder (Tom Hanks) to participate in an experiment that takes transparency to a new level.

2017 — The Crash — The government enlists a team of white-collar criminals to thwart a cyberattack that threatens to bankrupt the United States.

2017 — Facebook: Cracking the Code — What does Facebook know about you? This documentary digs deep into the security issues that social media giant Facebook doesn’t want you to know, including how they track browsing data, promote targeted ads, and spread false information.

2017 — The Fate of the Furious — A cyberterrorist known as Cipher (Charlize Theron) coerces Dom (Vin Diesel) into working for her, hacks and takes control of cars, and reaps havoc.

2017 — Ghost in the Shell — Major (Scarlett Johansson) is saved from a terrible crash and cyber-enhanced as a soldier to stop the world’s most dangerous criminals. She soon discovers that her life was actually stolen and determines to recover her past, find out who did this to her, and stop them before they do it to others.

2017 — Kim Dotcom: Caught in the Web — This documentary tells the story of Megaupload founder Kim Dotcom, a super-hacker, entrepreneur and notorious Internet pirate accused of money laundering, racketeering, and copyright infringement.

2017 — Meeting Snowden — Edward Snowden, former CIA and NSA collaborator, has become infamous for initiating one of the most controversial mass surveillance scandals of all time. But who is he really? In this documentary, Lawrence Lassig and Birgitta Jónsdóttir sit down with the whistleblower to discuss the future of democracy, among other things.

2017 — Nothing to Hide — Do we really have nothing to hide? This documentary takes an in-depth look into government surveillance today and why the public seems to have unanimously accepted the loss of their right to online privacy.

2017 — Silk Road: Drugs, Death, and the Dark Web — In 2011, Ross Ulbricht launched the anonymous darknet website, Silk Road. This documentary explores everything the black market site had to offer, as well as the events leading up to — and following — Ulbricht’s inevitable arrest.

2017 — Stare Into The Lights My Pretties — Many of us live behind a screen, but at what cost? This documentary examines why so many people are addicted to their screens, all the while exploring the impact this collective mindset may have on our future.

2017 — Thoughtcrime — Directed by Bernd Riemann, this documentary compares the disturbing similarities between the disclosures made by former CIA employee Edward Snowden in 2013 and the world created by George Orwell in the dystopian science fiction film 1984, where independent thinking was censored and holding thoughts opposing those in power was considered a criminal act.

2017 — Weapons of Mass Surveillance — Directed by Elizabeth C. Jones, this documentary explores the dangerous alliance of Western surveillance technology and Middle Eastern governments who use that technology to monitor their citizens. It discusses how high-tech cyber-surveillance enables governments to record, archive, and analyze communications.

2018 — Anon — In a world where everyone’s lives are transparent, traceable, and recorded by the authorities, causing crime to almost cease, a detective (Clive Owen) tries to solve a series of murders that may involve a mysterious hacker (Amanda Seyfried).

2018 — Assassination Nation — After an anonymous hacker leaks the private information of the people of Salem, suspicion falls on four teenage girls who are targeted by the community.

2018 — Black Code — Told through accounts from exiled Brazilian activists, Syrian citizens, and Tibetan monks, this documentary explores how governments across the world are exploiting the internet to gain control over their people.

2018 — Cam — Alice (Madeline Brewer) is an exotic webcam performer whose life is turned upside down when her channel — and livelihood — are stolen by a scarily accurate look-alike. Determined to get her identity back, Alice sets out to unmask, and ultimately take down, the mysterious hacker.

2018 — The Cleaners — Nothing stays on the internet forever. The web’s self-cleaning nature dominates this documentary led by field experts, enlightening viewers to the process of content removal, alongside asking one poignant question: who decides what should, and should not, be seen?

2018 — The Creepy Line — Google and Facebook take center stage in this documentary that depicts how the social media platforms have perfected various manipulation tactics, all in the name of gaining access to the public’s personal and private information. Told through first-hand accounts, scientific experiments, and an in-depth analysis.

2018 — The Defenders — Produced by Cybereason, this documentary invites viewers inside the world of cybercrime, analyzing four of the most well-known cyberattacks throughout history — highlighted by commentary from those working to protect our institutions from the ever-changing cyber threat landscape.

2018 — Digital Addicts — How much do screens affect children’s brain development? This documentary follows a group of kids growing up in the digital age, highlighting the harmful, hyper-addictive nature of social media platforms, mobile phones, and more.

2018 — Do You Trust This Computer? — Is a smarter machine always a better machine? This documentary digs deep into the dangers of artificial intelligence, highlighted by commentary from some of the field’s most respected individuals, including Elon Musk.

2018 — Edward Snowden: Whistleblower or Spy? — In 2013, Edward Snowden infamously leaked highly classified information from the NSA. Five years later, this documentary looks back at the sensational time through interviews with participants and witnesses, including some who are speaking out for the first time.

2018 — The Feeling of Being Watched — This documentary is the result of journalist Assia Bendaoui’s investigation into rumors that the FBI has monitored her quiet, predominantly Arab-American neighborhood near Chicago since the 1990s. Her research exposed one of the FBI’s largest counter-terrorism investigations before 9/11.

2018 — General Magic  — This is the story of one of tech’s most influential and least memorable companies. Featuring commentary from members of the original Macintosh team alongside the creators of eBay, iPod, iPhone, and Android, this documentary explores how General Magic created the first handheld personal communicator, aka smartphone, and what happened after.

2018 — The Girl in the Spider’s Web — Computer hacker Lisbeth Salander (who is also an avenging angel for abused women) and journalist Mikael Blomkvist find themselves caught in a web of spies, cybercriminals and corrupt government officials.

2018 — Hacked — After losing his job to a state-of-the-art supercomputer, a disgruntled computer technician decides to test his replacement. In the meantime, a group of hackers infiltrates the building to steal the new technology.

2018 — Inside Facebook: Secrets of a Social Network — Which is more important: money or morality? This eye-opening documentary takes viewers inside Facebook’s moderating hub, demonstrating how the social media company regulates harmful content, such as child abuse and hate speech — although the results prove to be more concerning than comforting.

2018 — Inside the Russian Info War Machine — How does Russia undermine democratic governments, alter world events, and manipulate public opinion? In this documentary, acclaimed journalist Paul Moreira breaks down the Russian information war machine, including its hidden weapon: the trolls and hackers pushing Russia’s agenda across cyberspace.

2018 — Irumbu Thirai — A cat and mouse game for the digital age. After losing millions of dollars to a group of cybercriminals, a soldier sets out on a quest to get back everything he lost. Will his efforts be enough?

2018 — Johnny English Strikes Again — After a cyberattack reveals the identity of all of Britain’s active undercover agents, MI7 agent Johnny English must come out of retirement to find the mastermind hacker.

2018 — King of Crime — Marcus King (Mark Wingett) was a well-known crime lord on the streets … that is, until he brought his illegal empire to cyberspace. When Islamic extremists threaten everything he’s built, the newly cemented king of British cybercrime will do everything in his power to maintain his status.

2018 — Ocean’s 8 — On a mission to pull off an impossible heist at New York’s renowned Met Gala, hacker 9Ball (Rihanna) launches a spear-phishing campaign against an employee at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, gaining access to the museum’s security camera system and giving her all-female crew the insight they need to successfully steal one of the most valuable jewelry pieces in the world.

2018 — Peripheral — This horror film follows a successful young writer — Bobbi Johnson (Hannah Arterton) — who, after experiencing writer’s block while writing her second novel, employs an artificially intelligent software to finish her work. Little does Bobbi know, she’s about to uncover a dangerous conspiracy of social control.

2018 — Searching — A man becomes desperate when his 16-year-old daughter disappears and a police investigation is futile. Hoping to find clues, he searches her laptop, scours photos and videos, and begins contacting her friends.

2018 — Unfriended: Dark Web — After a teen finds a mysterious laptop, he invites several friends to play a game online. The night turns deadly when they become the target of cyber-terrorism.

2019 — BD2K: Big Data to Knowledge — Told through the stories of two patients battling disease in the information age, this documentary film explores how big data has changed the way medicine is practiced, as well as its effect on doctor-patient relationships.

2019 — Cyber Crime — In this documentary, 10 leading cybercrime experts discuss how billions of dollars a year are stolen or lost as a result of cybercrime, destroying businesses and lives.

2019 — Dataland — Living in a world that’s practically run by AI, it’s hard to think we’ve only just scratched the surface of what the technology is capable of — but it’s true. This documentary explores what the world’s top data scientists are working on behind closed doors.

2019 — The Great Hack — This documentary examines the Cambridge Analytica scandal through the roles of several people affected by it.

2019 — HAK_MTL — Tech companies claim to protect our privacy, but is it true? In this eye-opening documentary, a group of Canadian hackers launch an investigation into the internet and how it continues to track, store, and share users’ data, despite assurances that it doesn’t.

2019 — Hero or Villain? The Prosecution of Julian Assange — Depending on who you’re talking to, the name Julian Assange will provoke one of two feelings: fury or awe. This documentary, led by the ABC Four Corners Team, chronicles an investigation into the founder of Wikileaks, featuring commentary from some of the individuals who knew him best.

2019 — Kee — Siddharth (Jiiva) and Shivam (Govind Padmasoorya) share an affinity for hacking, but that’s all they have in common. When the two unexpectedly cross paths, a fight between hacking for good and evil breaks out — and the consequences are fatal.

2019 — Machine Learning: Living in the Age of AI — How do we interact with AI? The technology has cemented itself as one of the foundations of our digital age, but has yet to reach its full potential. This documentary examines what the future of artificial intelligence will look like and the many possibilities ahead of us.

2019 — Official Secrets —  Katharine Gun made headlines in 2003 after blowing the whistle on an illegal NSA spy operation. This drama film, starring Kiera Knightly and Matt Smith, chronicles the scandal, as well as the ensuing legal battles that uncovered top-secret manipulation tactics used by the highest levels of government in both the U.S. and the UK.

2019 — Password — A police officer hunts for a cybercriminal who is destroying people’s lives by hacking their passwords.

2019  — The Secrets of Silicon Valley — Directed by James Corbett, this documentary looks at the long and detailed history of Silicon Valley, located in the San Francisco Bay area, including how it was founded in the aftermath of World War II, the technology companies located there that have shaped the world through innovation, the ties between different companies and the government, and according to Corbett, the shadowy underworld hiding beneath the surface and why Big Tech means big trouble.

2019 — Third Eye Spies — Directed by Lance Mungia, this documentary reveals how an experiment in psychic abilities at Stanford Research Institute led to the CIA’s study of psychic abilities for more than 20 years for use in their top-secret spy program. Parapsychologists Russell Targ and Dean Radin are interviewed, along with dozens of others, regarding recently declassified information.

2019 — Unfriends — In this Bollywood thriller, Veer, who has an idea for a startup, receives a Facebook friend request from Vijay, who becomes his investor. While on a long celebration drive, they meet a girl named Mauli. When Vijay rapes her and intends to kill her, Veer comes to her rescue and helps her escape. When she is later subjected to abuse on the internet, Veer seeks justice for her.

2019 — WannaCry: The Marcus Hutchins Story — Marcus Hutchins, a British computer researcher, became an “accidental hero” when he discovered a kill switch in May 2017 that stopped the spread of WannaCry, hours after the ransomware affected thousands of systems across the world. Three months later, the FBI arrested him because of his involvement in a banking trojan. This documentary, directed by Hugo Berkeley, is his firsthand story.

2019 — Who You Think I Am — A 50-year-old divorced teacher (Juliette Binoche) uses a photo of a young, pretty blonde to create a fake Facebook profile of a 24-year-old woman after being ghosted by her 20-something lover.

2019 — You Can’t Watch This — This independent documentary by George Llewelyn-John discusses freedom of speech and the online world. It highlights stories of five individuals who lose their access to social media and how that censorship affects them.

2020 — Archive — Roboticist George Almore (Theo James) is working to create a true human-equivalent AI, but when his focus turns to reuniting with his dead wife, Julie (Stacy Martin), he finds himself reaping Dr. Frankenstein-worthy consequences.

2020 — The Big Reset 2.0 — Every day, AI grows more functional, intelligent, and capable of completing even the most complicated tasks, but at what point does it become too much? In this documentary produced by Germany’s international broadcaster, Deutsche Welle (DW), experts discuss the field’s ongoing battle between risk and reward.

2020 — Childhood 2.0 — What does it mean to be a child in the highly vulnerable digital age? Online predators, cyberbullying, and mental health take center stage in this documentary that delves into the real-life issues plaguing kids and parents today.

2020 — CyberlanteAfter getting a job at an isolated hotel run by a cruel bully, Matt (Gavin Gordon) finds himself at the center of a battle between hacking for good and evil.

2020 — Enemies of the State —  This American documentary film follows Matt DeHart, targeted by the U.S. government for having confidential documents alleging misconduct by the CIA.

2020 — Interference: Democracy at Risk — In 2016, many new threats against our democracy came to light, such as misinformation campaigns and voter fraud, all of which wouldn’t be possible if not for the advanced, digital age we live in. This documentary urges viewers to make sure it never happens again.

2020 — The Internet of Everything — This documentary discusses how the internet now invades every aspect of our lives, through things beyond computers and phones — such as garbage cans, refrigerators and city infrastructures. It also talks about the problems the Internet has created and asks the question: will the future be a surveillance nightmare or an eco-utopia. Who will determine the outcome?

2020 — Julian Assange: Revolution Now — Overnight, Julian Assange went from coder to convict. This documentary tells the story of the founder of Wikileaks and how his mission to entrust the public with some of the most private information made him an enemy of the United States government.

2020 — Kill Chain: The Cyber War on America’s Elections — Produced by HBO, this documentary examines the rising number of tech vulnerabilities in the American electoral system, featuring an eye-opening demonstration of how secure electronic voting machines are by hackers at DEFCON, the world’s largest hacking conference.

2020 — KnowBe4: The Making Of A Unicorn — A Cybersecurity Story. How CEO Stu Sjouwerman built a culture of fun and a company worth $1 billion. With Chief Hacking Officer Kevin Mitnick. 23-minute documentary produced by Cybercrime Magazine.

2020 — No Safe Spaces — What does freedom of speech look like in the age of social media? In this documentary, comedian Adam Corrolla and talk show host Dennis Prager travel across America to explore what the future holds for the First Amendment.

2020 — Out Of Dark — Ever wondered what it’s like to be a spy? This eye-opening documentary invites cameras on a mission with a real-world intelligence operative,  giving viewers an in-depth look into the top-secret world of foreign and domestic surveillance.

2020 — Password — A Saw-esque thriller in which an IT employee awakens to find himself tied to a chair, surrounded by a dead body and a laptop. Discovering he’s been kidnapped, the employee must find a way out, but will the financial imbalance of India post-globalization get in his way?

2020 — Screen Generation — Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z … and then what? Following the generation dubbed the “Digital Natives,” this documentary ponders what’s in store for the children that grew up behind a screen. Researchers in the U.S. and Europe were interviewed.

2020 — The Social Dilemma — This documentary explores the dangerous human impact of social networking.

2020 — Tenet — In this action thriller directed by Christopher Nolen, an organization called Tenet recruits an unnamed CIA operative known as The Protagonist (John David Washington) for a mission involving “time inversion” to counter a future threat and stop World War III.

2020 — We Need to Talk About A.I. — Director Leanne Pooley takes a close look at the future of artificial intelligence and the impact it will have on the world, including how computers will have the capacity to design and program themselves as they continue to evolve.

2021 — Chakra — Military officer Chandru (Vishal Krishna) is one of fifty people who are robbed on Independence Day. After he discovers his most prized possession was stolen, Chandru joins forces with a police officer to hunt down the dangerous cybercriminal responsible.

2021 — Cryptopia: Bitcoin, Blockchains, And The Future Of The Internet — Filmmaker Torsten Hoffmannn’s eye-opening look into the world of cryptocurrency and the controversy surrounding it, featuring commentary from some of the industry’s major players.

2021 — Dark Web: Cicada 3301 — After visiting the dark web, Connor (Jack Kesy), a gifted hacker, is invited to join the mysterious secret society Cicada 3301. He accepts and soon finds himself embroiled in an intense, high-stakes race against the NSA. Based on real-life events.

2021 —Dark Web: Fighting Cybercrime — The fight against cybercrime takes center stage in this documentary highlighting the security industry and its ceaseless determination to defend against the growing number of digital threats.

2021 — Dear Hacker — What happens when your webcam goes rogue? The directorial debut of French filmmaker Alice Lenay, this documentary is a must-watch for anyone who’s ever wondered about the inner workings of a webcam.

2021 — MY.DOOM: Earth’s Deadliest [Computer] Virus  — First seen in 2004, MyDoom is universally acknowledged as the worst computer virus of all time, having caused over $38 billion in losses. This documentary explores MyDoom’s origins and chaotic run, all the while making an argument for just how essential white hat hackers really are.

2021 — Hacker Fairies — A short drama that follows two white hat hackers on a mission to retrieve stolen photos of several women. Not long into the search, one of the women asks to learn more about hacking. Can she be trusted? 

2021 — Hacker: Trust No One When Danny cofounds a new cryptocurrency, he thinks it will make him rich. When he gets caught hacking, though, he and his girlfriend end up on a hit list instead.

2021 — Love Hard — A columnist, who writes about her bad dating experiences, thinks she has met her perfect match on a dating app. When she flies across country to surprise him for Christmas, she learns she’s been catfished.

2021 — The Perfect Weapon — Based on a best-selling book by New York Times national security correspondent David E. Sanger, this documentary explores the rise of cyber conflict as the primary way nations now compete with and sabotage one another. ‌Directed by John Maggio, it features interviews with top military, intelligence, and political officials on the frontlines of cyberterrorism.

2021 — Silk Road — Directed by Tiller Russell, this is the story of the anonymous dark web market launched by Ross Ulbricht in early 2011. Ulbricht was jailed for life after an FBI operation shut down Silk Road.

2021 — The Mitchells vs The Machines — Starring Maya Rudolph, Danny McBride, Eric Andre, and more, this animated film follows the Mitchell family, who stumble into an unprecedented robot apocalypse and find themselves fighting to save the future of humanity.

2021 — The Spy in Your Phone — The positive side of smartphones is that they keep us connected, entertain us, store data, and so much more. This documentary highlights the dangers, including privacy issues, how messaging and social media sites store our data and use it, how individuals and organizations can target us through spyware, and the concern about government mass surveillance. It also discusses what you can do to protect your data.

2021 — Twenty Hacker — Hex is a hacker who runs Better World, a “white hacker” club. When he discovers that black hackers have ruined his father’s company, he enlists his club members to take them down, resulting in an inevitable showdown.

2021 — WANNACRY: Earth’s Deadliest [Computer] Virus — This documentary examines how a computer virus that began as a small crypto worm in 2017 ended up infecting thousands of computers as ransomware. It describes the complex process that allowed it to be distributed in several ways and delves into a parallel story.

2022 — Glimpse — This surveillance-footage thriller follows three individuals, who are up for the same job, as their lives slowly spiral out of control. Starring an ensemble cast including Michael Emerson, Raúl Esparza, and David Alan Basche.

2022 — Hacker: Trust No One — This drama film tells the story of a hacker who finds himself and his girlfriend on a hit list after getting mixed up in the shady world of cryptocurrency.

2022 — Hot Seat — Mel Gibson stars in this riveting tale about an IT expert and former hacker, Friar (Kevin Dillon), who finds himself in the middle of a potentially explosive cyber robbery. Forced to choose between stealing digital funds or having his daughter abducted, Friar is left to determine what matters most while simultaneously working to get out of the hot seat.

2022 — Keedam — Main character Radhika Balan is a cybersecurity expert who believes in using technology to benefit others, but after falling victim to a cyberstalking incident and losing any semblance of privacy, she’s left with no choice but to take matters into her own hands.

2022 — Kimi — Starring Zoe Kravitz and Rita Wilson, this thriller chronicles the events that take place after an agoraphobic tech worker discovers evidence of a violent crime, which ultimately leads to her greatest challenge yet — leaving the house.

2022 — Stalked Within — This thriller follows Gary, a home security operator, who begins to spy on a single mother using his company’s technology equipment. It’s only a matter of time before his obsession turns deadly.

2022 — The Takeover — When an ethical hacker is framed for murder, she must track down those who are blackmailing her, stop them, and clear her name. Starring Holly Mae Brood, Geza Weisz, and Frank Lammers.

2023 — @ — A techno-thriller starring Rachel David as an ethical hacker, this film revolves around the dark web and the horrors that lurk within it. Audiences will become acquainted with the many crimes that take place, such as drug peddling, and the cyberattacks that come to fruition in the deep net.

2023 — M3GAN — Artificially intelligent doll M3GAN is a technological wonder, designed to befriend children and support parents. However, it’s only a matter of time until M3GAN becomes sentient and decides to take on a life of her own, leaving those around her to reap the extraordinary consequences.

2023 — Reality — This drama tells the story of Reality Winner, the former American intelligence specialist who was given the longest prison sentence for the unauthorized release of government information to the media about Russian interference in the 2016 United States elections via an email operation. Sydney Sweeney stars in the titular role.

So far no hits. I recon that the movie should be somewhere in the early 1990’s to 2005 time frame. Low budget, but a seriously important movie. Perhaps it was a spin off of movies of the Matrix genre… Which would place it around 1999. Or maybe right before it, 1995. And the movie Matrix completely overshadowed it.

Still looking.

Sigh.

US hegemony uses 800 military bases and 11 aircraft carriers to force the world to follow US economics, trade and finance rules for USA benefits. Anyone refusing is sanctioned, or if weak violently attacked using human rights excuses. That is coercive diplomacy.

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US hegemony in last 70yrs means endless wars, endless arms sales and endless Tbills and usd printing. It is not sustainable now USA printed usd31trillion and deficits are still adding Tbills. Does the world want to continue wars and deaths for US profits? Most of the world says no.

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The 1950s in SHOCKINGLY BEAUTIFUL Colorized Photos

Things Worth Experiencing At Least Once In Your Life, According To People Online

In the everyday rush and routine, we probably don’t find time to think about what we want to do in this life and what really would make us happy. It may be for our whole life or it can also be something that will make us the happiest people alive for a day. There are particular locations, feelings, purchases or activities that we dream about. I may be wrong but many of us probably have our bucket lists made. Some of us have written it down and are actually saving money for our dreams, some of us have written it in our notes and from time to time check it out to see if maybe we managed to complete some of the things. But some of us just have it in our head and create something on the spot if this topic comes up.

  • Reading a book so good you can’t fall asleep without reading a new chapter, and to feel slightly sad when you finish it.
  • Walking in the snowy woods at night.
  • What it’s like to work a busy shift at a restaurant – can be any role, waiting tables, bussing, cooking, hosting. Everyone should have one evening where you are trying to serve and cater to dozens of people at once. You should know how it feels to bring someone the wrong dish or spill a glass on someone. You should know how it feels to work hard af and get no tip, get told to take something back like it’s your fault, all the normal things that happen during a busy shift.
  • Seeing an ocean in person, from a beach.
  • Contentment and security. Not necessarily full happiness, but satisfaction in your own life, and safety within it.
  • I have two. One is seeing a starry night sky, no clouds, no light pollution, just a beautiful night sky. Or better yet, the northern lights. Second is seeing the view from a mountain peak. People always talk about how ugly the world is, but I think these two things really remind you of how beautiful earth is too.
  • A good nights sleep.
  • Being in love with someone who loves you back
  • The sound of it snowing. I laid on the ground, in the snow at night in the Alaskan wilderness, in December, it’s so peaceful.
  • Even if it’s only for a short period of time: full financial independence, while being single. You can pay your own bills, you have your own place, and you have full freedom over your free time. Whether it’s staying in and binge watching Netflix, or going out and sitting amongst strangers. Your time is your own. No kids. No spouse or significant other. I find this is when you really get to know and understand yourself.
  • A loving and supportive group of humans.
  • Having real friends
  • going on a forest and smelling rain
  • Everyone should experience the joys of traveling to a foreign land at least once in their lifetime, even if it’s just to realize how much they love their own toilet. Imagine discovering new cultures, cuisines, and the thrill of trying to communicate with locals using just charades and a phrasebook. Trust me, it’s a life-changing experience that’ll give you a new appreciation for your home and a killer accent to boot.
  • Moving away from your hometown, even if it is for a year
  • A hug, simple but important
  • The energy of a concert.
  • Being well and absolutely disconnected. No phones, no GPS. I last had that experience in the early 90s. Being somewhere with someone you trust and the two of you are the only people who know where you are and what you are doing.
  • Working a minimum or entry level job as a first job especially when young.
    It really makes you appreciate money and interactions with people because it sucked and you got so little of anything even less some respect. Hell you even get to treat the people that work those jobs nicer because you were them once.
  • Another culture. And I don’t mean as a tourist where you have all the comforts of home. To fully absorb and immerse yourself in the lives of that culture. To eat their foods, drink their drinks, and do as they do.

1970s Things Found In Every Home

https://youtu.be/0g4zXepHASM

Claims that the Belt and Road initiative “could create a new epidemic” are a bizarre new line of attack on Beijing’s efforts in the country

By Timur Fomenko, a political analyst

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A young man rides atop a load of cluster bomb casings and bomb scrap that his family is taking to a scrap market in town, Xieng Khouang, Laos, 2005. © Jerry Redfern/LightRocket via Getty Images

Laos – a landlocked communist state in Southeast Asia, wedged between China, Vietnam, Cambodia and Myanmar – has the potential to be a nexus of sorts for the entire region. However, its cooperation with Beijing has come under fire from the West.

The impoverished nation holds the unenviable distinction of “the most bombed country in history” after the US dropped over 2 million tons of bombs on it during the Vietnam War. Laos is still weathering the consequences, including deaths from unexploded munitions. Faced with numerous challenges, it has leaned on its giant northern neighbor for assistance.

In recent years, Laos has benefited considerably from China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). In late 2021, the China-Laos railway was built, a high-speed system connecting the country’s capital to Beijing. This has been a gamechanger for its foreign trade and exports. Сurrently, a new superhighway is also being built across the country. Last week, however, an article from Reuters

attracted widespread disdain on social media as it sought to frame China’s development in the country as risking a “new pandemic.” It was titled ‘China, birthplace of the covid pandemic, is laying tracks for another global health crisis.’

The article argued that Laos is home to a bat population that carries “novel coronaviruses,” the same source which allegedly gave rise to Covid-19. By building a highway through the country’s tropical forests, the argument goes, humans will be brought into closer contact with bats, thus destroying their environment and risking a new pandemic. This textbook example of an over-the-top ‘China bad’ story exaggerates and fixates on the speculated negative consequences of Beijing’s activities, never providing the full picture. It is never touched on, for example, how up to 50 people a year in Laos continue to die from undetonated US bombs dropped on the country during the Vietnam war.

Western media at large have it in for China’s relationship with Laos, with outlets denouncing Chinese investments as a “debt trap ” and accusing Laos of being a “vassal state.” Why is it met with such backlash? First of all, Laos is arguably the single most pro-Chinese state in Southeast Asia, the region which the US is aggressively targeting as part of its Indo-Pacific strategy. Despite being communist, Washington sees Vietnam as a potential military and economic counterweight to Beijing due to its maritime periphery; however, Laos is a landlocked state which reduces US geopolitical leverage in countering China. Laos is also fearful of neighboring Vietnam and sees Beijing as a guarantor in securing its own independence.

This, combined with America’s bloody history in the country, and the fact it is a communist state, makes Laos a very comfortable neighbor for China, which also stands as its biggest economic guarantor. Chinese-backed infrastructure is helping the landlocked and impoverished country to gain easier access to ports and markets. Furthermore, by making it a nexus of the region, China is also integrating itself with Thailand and allowing its goods to flow to more Southeast Asian ports. This becomes an obstacle to the US vision of hegemony over the region, which involves completely dominating China’s maritime periphery in a way that checks its ability to project power and shape global commerce.

As a result, the Western corporate media are encouraged to vilify the BRI, including specifically its impact in Laos. Those doubting that there is a concerted effort to do this need only look at the America COMPETES Act of 2022, which allocates $500 million to media outlets to ostensibly “combat Chinese disinformation” for overseas audiences. Among other things, it specifically targets the BRI, effectively incentivizing negative coverage of the Chinese infrastructure project. The US hates the BRI, because it creates connections in Eurasia and therefore changes the strategic landscape away from the maritime routes dominated by America.

The Reuters story in particular draws upon the tried-and-trusted practice of scapegoating China for the Covid-19 pandemic to fearmonger about its road development in Laos. But one must question whether the US ever acknowledged what it did to Laos? Did it apologize for dropping 270 million

cluster bombs on it? An estimated 80 million of those did not explode, and while the US has invested in clean-up efforts, the 50,000 lives these bombs have claimed since the end of the war clearly show this is not enough.

Now, China is not only boosting the Laotian economy with its railroad construction, but also helping clear the deadly consequences of American militarism. Meanwhile, the West keeps promising alternatives to the BRI, with a new name cropping up virtually every year, but talk is cheap and these promises have yet to bear fruit. It’s easy to take the moral high ground on an issue when you aren’t the one who has to bear the consequences. It’s fair to say, if there is a new Cold War, Laos won’t be siding with the West.

Why does the USA attack China so much?

This one chart explains it all.

2023 05 24 06 58
2023 05 24 06 58

“Yes, the CIA and FBI WILL rig the 2024 election”

China’s first domestically designed aircraft carrier having EMALS gets launched

The Fujian, the largest aircraft carrier ever built by China, is a crucial part of the Chinese navy. China is making rapid progress in developing advanced aircraft carriers that are on par with those of the US.

It is worth noting that China has chosen to name its new aircraft carrier after Fujian, a province located just across a narrow strait from Taiwan.

The 80,000 metric ton CNS Fujian is 50% larger than China’s current in-service carriers, putting the People’s Liberation Army Navy in the same class as supercarriers like the US Nimitz-class ships, which weigh 100,000 tons.

Unlike China’s other two carriers, the Liaoning and the Shandong, which are based on outdated Soviet technology and utilize a ski-jump launching system, the Fujian is equipped with an advanced electromagnetic aircraft launch system, similar to that used on the US’s newest carrier, the USS Gerald Ford. This new system will enable China to launch a greater variety of aircraft more quickly and with more ammunition onboard.

After approximately 18 months of trials, China’s largest warship CNS Fujian is expected to become operational by October 2024.

The Fujian and a fourth carrier, which is also under construction, are larger and able to carry more aircraft than the two existing vessels. The South China Morning Post reported in March last year that the fourth carrier might be nuclear-powered.

G7 leaders in Japan declare, China number one enemy

$200 Was Too High For Me But My Mom Insisted On Buying This

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645b4220aa252 WacpqAi 700

Amarjeet Sada, The 8 YO Serial Killer…

https://youtu.be/kEIMLQ-vE8Q

Chicago-Style Sausage and Peppers

Yield: 8 servings

2023 05 22 18 29
2023 05 22 18 29

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons corn oil
  • 1 large red onion, thinly sliced
  • 2 large yellow bell peppers, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
  • 2 large red bell peppers, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
  • 1/4 cup Jack Daniels Sour Mash Whiskey
  • 1/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed
  • 1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 8 spicy Italian sausages (4 ounces each), not hot dogs!
  • 8 good quality hot dog buns
  • 2 tablespoons reserved sausage grease or soft butter

Instructions

  1. Heat corn oil in large skillet and sauté the onions and peppers until tender and beginning to brown, about 10 minutes over medium heat.
  2. Add the bourbon and stir quickly until absorbed.
  3. Add the brown sugar and stir until the sugar melts.
  4. Season with thyme, salt and pepper. (Can be refrigerated for one week. Let come to room temperature before serving.)
  5. Char-grill the sausages until slightly blackened and cooked through.
  6. Brush the hot dog buns with a little sausage grease or butter and toast on the grill or under the broiler.
  7. Nestle a sausage in a bun and top with about 2 tablespoons of peppers and onions.

Yup. The test case was a couple weeks ago.

American soldier crashed a car. He was arrested by Japanese cops. The US government demanded he be released immediately and actual threats were made by the US government to the Japanese government.

The Japanese government rolled over.

That’s the big test of if your country is a US bitch or not.

Korea had THIS

Yangju highway incident - Wikipedia

Killing, 2 Korean girls, US army vehicle Coordinates : 37°51′28″N 126°56′56″E  /  37.857722°N 126.948972°E  / 37.857722; 126.948972  ( Location of the Yangju highway incident ) The Yangju highway incident , also known as the Yangju training accident or Highway 56 Accident , occurred on June 13, 2002, in Yangju , Gyeonggi-do, South Korea . 

A United States Army armored vehicle-launched bridge , returning to base in Uijeongbu on a public road after training maneuvers in the countryside, struck and killed two 14-year-old South Korean schoolgirls, Shin Hyo-sun ( Korean : 신효순) and Shim Mi-seon ( Korean : 심미선). 

The American soldiers involved were found not guilty of negligent homicide in the court martial , further inflaming anti-American sentiment in South Korea and sparking a series of candlelight vigil protests in protest of their deaths. 

The memory of the two schoolgirls is commemorated annually in South Korea

The UK had THIS

Death of Harry Dunn - Wikipedia

Fatal road traffic collision resulting in UK/US diplomatic controversy Coordinates : 51°59′49″N 1°11′45″W  /  51.9969593°N 1.1959241°W  / 51.9969593; -1.1959241 

Death of Harry Dunn Date 27 August 2019 Time 20:25 BST Location B4031 road near RAF Croughton Cause Road traffic collision Deaths Harry Dunn Burial 17 September 2019 

Inquiries Northamptonshire Police Convicted Anne Sacoolas Charges Causing death by careless driving (convicted) Causing death by dangerous driving (acquitted) 

Harry Dunn was a 19-year-old British man who died following a road traffic collision on 27 August 2019. 

He was riding his motorcycle near Croughton, Northamptonshire , United Kingdom, near the exit to RAF Croughton , when a car travelling in the opposite direction and on the wrong side of the road collided with him. 

The car was driven by Anne Sacoolas, who is a former US spy and wife of CIA employee Jonathan Sacoolas, stationed at the time at USAF listening station RAF Croughton. 

Sacoolas admitted that she had been driving the car on the wrong side of the road , and the police said that, based on CCTV footage, they believed that to be true. 

Dunn was pronounced dead at the Major Trauma Centre of John Radcliffe Hospital , Oxford. The collision caused diplomatic tension between UK and US officials. 

Sacoolas fled the UK soon after the incident and claimed diplomatic immunity with US support.

Italy had THIS

1998 Cavalese cable car crash - Wikipedia

US Navy aircraft struck ski lift, Italy The Cavalese cable car crash , also known as the Cermis massacre ( Italian : Strage del Cermis ), occurred on February 3, 1998, near the Italian town of Cavalese , a ski resort in the Dolomites some 40 kilometres (25 mi) northeast of Trento . 

Twenty people were killed when a United States Marine Corps EA-6B Prowler aircraft, flying too low and against regulations, in order for the pilots to "have fun" and "take videos of the scenery", cut a cable supporting a cable car of an aerial lift . 

The pilot, Captain Richard J. Ashby, and his navigator , Captain Joseph Schweitzer, were put on trial in the United States and found not guilty of involuntary manslaughter and negligent homicide .

If Americans can come and wantonly commit crimes and get almost no punishment then you’re essentially an occupied country.

For Japan. THIS.

Why is China’s economy continuing to grow to the point it is the largest or second largest economy in the world based on which method used to compare economies.

China has been able to harness a number of factors over several decades that has benefited its people economically. The Chinese government has taken great effort to improve the lives of its people. Its goal is to create a moderately prosperous society for its huge population. With a country of 1.4 billion people moderately prosperous equates to a large economy.

China has devoted a lot of effort to educate its people. In 1950 the literacy rate was 20%, but today it is over 97%. Eduction is highly important to the government. This has led China to produce the most STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) graduates yearly, which drives innovation.

2023 05 22 18 50
2023 05 22 18 50

Chinese culture is one of business and that means trade is an important part business activity. Now days China trades with almost every country globally. It is the primary trade partner with many.

2023 05 22 18 50s
2023 05 22 18 50s

With China’s huge manufacturing sector needed to produce goods for it huge population benefits from economies of scale. This in turn drives down manufacturing costs making goods cheaper in China and for export.

Developed economies for the most part are service economies not manufacturing ones, hence their need to import goods.

2023 05 22 18 51
2023 05 22 18 51

China’s ability to produce a wide variety of goods from simple utensils to automobiles and high speed trains means it can produce much of what other countries need but cannot produce.

All the above and more is why China’s economy continues to grow at a faster rate compared to the developed countries of the West.

1970’s Rmic Hand Chair

Thrift store find.

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645b42c261a00 i0xjb5adkgq91 700

Kenyan President Ruto Says African Leaders Won’t Be Summoned Like Kids By The West No Longer

Ukrainian Artist Dinara Kasko Continues To Push The Boundaries Of Pastry Design

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0 71 650×650

Here are the incredible edibles of pastry chef Dinara Kasko. The culinary artist from Ukraine has amassed a huge online following for her innovative cake designs and moulds. Although Dinara graduated from Kharkov University Architecture School, she found her true passion was pastry. However, she now uses her background in architectural design to create her incredible cakes as she uses the 3D-modelling program, 3DSMAX, to create silicone cake moulds.

More: Instagram, Shop h/t: twistedsifter

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No, because both have nukes. The US has been doing everything to stop China’s rise. Lying and accusing China on human rights, genocide, and whatever sins they can think of to discredit China. The US now summons her vassals to go to war with China to weaken China’s economy and military, similar to UR conflict.

Only BABY BOOMERS will REMEMBER these things

“Garden Decor” For Sale On Fb Marketplace

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645b403106763 s25p8if49hva1 700

TWO BOEING E-4B COMMAND AND CONTROL AIRCRAFT AIRBORNE OVER CONTINENTAL USA

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Fwr0UwcWIAECb3W

Things No Longer Found at Gas Stations

Did I Just Find A Serial Killer?

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645b3feab2a20 rspiyltzhkta1 700

Chicago Hot Dogs

Never leave the celery salt off the Chicago Dogs! They won’t be the same. I guarantee it.

chicago hot dogs
chicago hot dogs

Ingredients

  • All-beef hot dogs
  • Green sweet bell pepper, diced
  • Yellow onions, diced
  • Mustard
  • Sweet pickle relish
  • Dill pickle chips
  • Cucumbers, sliced thin
  • Iceberg lettuce, shredded
  • Tomatoes, diced
  • Hot peppers (pepperoncini)
  • Celery salt

Instructions

  1. Steam hot dogs and put condiments on table. NEVER USE KETCHUP! Celery salt is a MUST!
  2. Serve on poppy seed buns, if they are available.

Kenya President Gets Standing Ovation in Pan-African Parliament for Epic Speech

2023 05 24 11 21
2023 05 24 11 21

2023 05 24 11 22
2023 05 24 11 22

No Eyedea What It Is, From Goodwill

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645b552224d55 boe4rfeamiia1 700

Scam may be overstating it, but they will seize your money without warning or explanation and you should avoid using them as much as possible, especially if you are a business.

I would strongly advise anyone, especially a seller, to avoid using Paypal. Like many, I was in the camp of “They’re the most established payment service on the web and I’ve never had a problem with them.” Until I did, and I’ve learned of the massive amount of unethical behavior they get away with.

In my case, the situation’s not too severe, but it’s still frustrating. I coached a client overseas in Europe. He wanted to pay with Paypal. Not having a better suggestion, I thought sure, why not? I coached, he sent the funds over, all set, right?

Paypal put a hold on the funds for a few days to make sure things were in good order. Shortly thereafter, they suspended my account. I got the following email:

2023 05 24 14 58
2023 05 24 14 58

Mind you, I have literally only done a single transaction on this account, the one I just did. I had no warning there was a problem with my account and my client is in good standing with Paypal. I did not receive any explanation.

On the site, my account now has a banner that looks like this:

2023 05 24 14 59
2023 05 24 14 59

I can no longer transfer money, unlink my bank account, remove my personal information, or anything. Paypal has indefinitely seized my money.

If I attempt to refund my client, they tell me the attempt fails due to technical reasons.

Paypal offered no explanation for the freeze. They claimed the funds would be released after a review that ended on May 15th, 2023, and I got this email:

2023 05 24 15 01
2023 05 24 15 01

I consequently reported them to the Better Business Bureau. Paypal actually responded on this, claiming that my account used an “anonymizing service” (I assume referring to the fact I use a VPN for all of my Internet activity) and that I share limited access with another account (I have no idea what this means). These were the only explanations given for why they seized my funds.

2023 05 24 15 02
2023 05 24 15 02

I will reiterate that I never received any warning or notification that my account had any issues prior to the transaction. It was only after the transaction, when Paypal had possession of my money, that they notified me they would be keeping it for themselves.

If they genuinely believed I was a security risk, they should have prevented my transaction in the first place, or immediately refunded my client’s payment. It’s like if I tried to ship a package with UPS, and UPS just said “we think you might be a drug dealer so we’re just going to keep your package for ourselves.”

As of now, I have requested only that they refund my client. Even if they have an issue with me, I don’t see how they can justify refusing a refund. At this time I have not received a response and my client has not been refunded.

So I know you might be thinking, because I was thinking – “Howie it clearly must be just something with you. You did something wrong to justify this treatment.” I am far from alone.

They faced a class action lawsuit for this behavior in 2022

. They seized $172,000 from one plaintiff, $42,000 from another, and $26,984 from a third. Very similar situation – frozen account, no explanation, get a subpoena if you want to find out why.

If you’d like a plethora of horror stories, just visit the ecommerce subreddit

.

Read any of the reviews on trustpilot

, consumeraffairs

, or wherever else. Obviously there is a tendency to leave negative reviews rather than positive to go in appreciating that, but you’ll find many, many users who’ll tell you this same story.

Whether you think I’m just a crazy one-off case or not, I strongly encourage you take measures to protect yourself so you do not become a victim as well. I’d offer the following suggestions.

  • If you can avoid using Paypal, do so.
  • If you must use Paypal, keep as little balance in your account as possible, as it can be seized at any time.
  • If you can associate Paypal with a deposit-only account, do so. They shouldn’t be able to withdraw from your linked bank account without your consent, but there are some user horror stories where that has happened.
  • Be aware that Paypal owns Venmo as well.

There are numerous alternatives to Paypal, several of which even charge lower fees, including Stripe, Wise, Square, Google, and more. All have better reputations and at the very least I can tell you none of them have taken my money for themselves.

Good luck. I hope this post helps you avoid being a victim.

Everything You Remember And Miss About…SEARS

41 Countries Ready To Accept BRICS Currency

The list of countries interested to join the BRICS alliance and accept the new currency for global trade is growing. 

China and Russia are lobbying other developing countries in joining the international efforts to dethrone the U.S. dollar. 

Developing countries in Asia and Africa are looking to replace the U.S. dollar with their native currencies or a new tender. 

The development is causing a roadblock to the dollar’s prospects and challenging its status as the world reserve currency...


Article HERE

Not possible.

China is an outlier in most aspects of economy and it is impossible for India to catch up in foreseeable future because –

  1. Current differential between the two countries is too large
  2. Factors that enable future growth (education, innovation, industrialization) are not firing on all cylinders either

Listed below are the data points from few indicators to illustrate the situation –

Trade & Industrialization:

  • Total exports (2016): India – $260 billion, China – $2.1 trillion
    • apparel: India – $18 billion, China – $175 billion
    • footwear: India – $2.5 billion, China – $51 billion
    • electrical and electronics – India – $8 billion, China – $782 billion
  • Number of large companies in Fortune 500 (2017): India has 7, China has 109

Infrastructure & Facilities:

  • High Speed Rails:
    • India – first HSR project (Mumbai-Ahmedabad) started in 2017, to be functional by 2022 covering 500 km
    • China – already has 25,000 km of HSR network, transporting double the volume of passengers than airlines
  • Metro Trains:
    • India – 8 cities with total track length of 370 km
    • China – 39 cities with total track length of 3,600 km (Beijing metro alone is 600 km)
  • Airports: India has 346, China has 507 (2013 data)
  • World’s Top 1000 hospitals: India has 9, China has 84

Tourism:

  • Foreign Tourist arrivals: India – 10 million,
  • China – 60 millionTourism revenue:
  • India – $27 billion,
  • China – $114 billion

Education & Innovation:

  • World’s Top 500 universities: India has 8, China has 21
    Adult Literacy: India 74% (2011 data), expected to hit mid-80’s by next census (2021), China – 99% (2010)
  • Number of Patents and Trademarks: both India and China are in world’s Top 10 (2016 data)
    Patents filed by India – 45k, China – 1.3 million
    • Trademarks listed by India – 313k, China – 3.7 million

Rising Income levels:

  • 75% of world’s new billionaires are coming from India and China:
    • Since 2010, India is adding one new billionaire every 33 days
      China is adding one new billionaire every 5 days
    • India has world’s third highest number of billionaires and China has world’s largest:

      Number of billionaires in India – 131, China – 819
  • Expanding Middle Class:
    • India – 600 million people, based on the criteria of spending ($2 to $10 per day)
      Only 24 million people, if based on the criteria of wealth ($13k)
    • China – 500 million by 2022, based on the criteria of earning ($9k to 34k)
    • GDP Per Capita: India – $1.7k, China – $8.1k
  • Overall Economy:
  • Forex reserves: India – $400 billion, China – $3 trillion
  • GDP (nominal): India – $2.5 trillion, China – $11 trillion
  • Trend

2023 05 24 11 39
2023 05 24 11 39

Key Take-Aways and Summary:

  • China’s exports of only electricals and electronics ($782 billion) are three times of India’s total exports ($260 billion)
  • Length of metro in China’s one city (Beijing – 600 km) is more than total length of all metros in India (370 km)
  • China’s forex reserves ($3 trillion) are more than India’s total GDP ($2.5 trillion)
  • China’s middle class is not only larger, but also richer than India’s middle class – making it a more attractive investment destination
  • India’s growth story is real, but China’s growth story is much bigger. On most economic indicators, India has been performing good, but China has been performing a lot better
  • Before 2020, India is estimated to overtake UK and France to become world’s fifth largest economy

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2023 05 24 11 40

  • By 2030, India is expected to overtake Germany and Japan to become world’s third largest economy. But even then ($6 trillion +), it would be less than one-third the size of China’s economy ($20 trillion +)

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2023 05 24 11 4r1


If interested, please refer to my other write-ups on India – China topics:

Shashank Goyal’s answer to Why has China developed so much faster than India?

Shashank Goyal’s answer to Why did China invade India in 1962?

Sylvester Stallone Prop Found In A Thrift Store

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645b40887af3c k6fmm1gh0aj91 700

United States puts its “cross hairs” on Africa

A country that is well known for best at controlling internet trolls and media is exaggerating a non-existent event in Africa, namely “China is launching a social movement to persecute black people”. In fact, from 2023 until May 24, 2023, I have not seen any hot topics or frontpage news related to black people in China on any social media platform.

By the way, in China, the vast majority of people have never seen murder in their lifetime. It is foolish to use the lie of ‘encouraging murder’ to describe China. Because even if this kind of encouragement exists, no one will respond. Chinese people do not know how to murder, unlike the country that creates this lie.

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2023 05 24 11 37

CLOSED Fast Food Restaurants from the past

Beijing summons Japanese envoy over ‘anti-China’ G7 summit

China’s Vice Foreign Minister Sun Weidong has summoned the Japanese ambassador to register protests over “hype around China-related issues” at the Group of Seven (G7) summit over the weekend, the foreign ministry said in a statement.

The heads of the world’s richest countries who met in the Japanese city of Hiroshima expressed serious concerns about rising tensions in the East China Sea and the South China Sea as well as voicing concerns about the human rights situations in China, including in Tibet and Xinjiang.

Article HERE

Huawei is preparing a number of new chipsets to launch later this year and Kirin A2 is one of them. The company is testing this chip for quite a time and it’s ready for production.

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main qimg 683730442cd8736a4555cdee8051d838

Huawei will launch the Kirin A2 chipset by this year. If everything goes right, the company could choose Q3 or Q4 for the release.

Also, Kirin A2 is ready for the trial stage and it has mass production capacity.

This is due to the past decision that Huawei took at the very last moment before launch events. Yet, the exact details are unknown. On this matter, Huawei has not revealed any details about Kirin A2 or related returns. But we’ll have to wait, as there are several months left in the making.

Kirin A2 for smartphones?

Nope, Kirin A-series was officially announced for wearable devices such as earphones, smartwatches, and others. The current breakthrough in Huawei’s chipset production capability remains low-key.

Therefore, the company may take this route to start producing self-developed wearables semiconductors. These types of chips don’t require advanced process technology. Hence, it’s very likely that Kirin A2 will be used for wearable gadgets.

Kirin A1:

Kirin A1 was the world’s first Bluetooth 5.1 and Bluetooth Low Energy 5.1 wearable chip. The A1 is developed by Huawei’s chipset designing division, HiSilicon, and printed by Taiwan’s TSMC.

Kirin A1 is designed for wireless earphones, headbands, neckbands, smart speakers, smart eyewear, and smartwatches. Huawei Watch GT 2 series is the first smartwatch to equip this SoC and it’s still running wild in terms of performance and battery.

After the US sanctions in 2019, Huawei had to stop making new HiSilicon chips. And with the recent achievement in automation tech, Huawei could print its own chipset.

Stores We Loved That No Longer Exist!

https://youtu.be/XcewCyZkvWw

What is the purpose of the US-Papua New Guinea defense agreement pact?

Leaked draft of the US-Papua New Guinea defense pact exposes the granting of legal immunity to US personnel and contractors, allowing unrestricted movement of US aircraft, vehicles, and vessels, and exempting US staff from migration requirements.

It is evident that this pact serves the US’s geopolitical interests rather than offering genuine humanitarian aid. The motive aligns with the US’s broader Indo-Pacific strategy.

However, what PNG truly needs is effective action to address the climate crisis and achieve economic growth. Unfortunately, the US is unlikely to prioritize these crucial concerns. Instead, it treats PNG and other South Pacific nations as mere pawns in its larger geopolitical game.

This behavior reflects the US’s historical tendency to come and go in the region as it pleases, without consistent commitment or genuine regard for local priorities.

Pictures from the past

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135023461 i7HSO rBu9LiGy3HZUWHlSKsC84avzkKWDrTeFtkdWA

chorley park was the fourth government house constructed in the early 20th century in toronto the bi tumb 660
chorley park was the fourth government house constructed in the early 20th century in toronto the bi tumb 660

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pieces of old architecture that are now lost 640 high 29

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First

Get a SIM

It’s a prepaid sim card. The Airports have many counters. Simply present your passport and visa and get a pre paid SIM card.

That gets you around 20GB Data that should be enough for a few days

Connection takes only seconds. The minute you insert the sim, the phone works and you can make the calls

Now most loaded apps won’t work


Next Money

You can easily download WeChat and Alipay but Alipay is better

However there is a problem for Indians

OTP

You can register Alipay for foreigners and enter your card details and load Rs. 25000/— per day (CNY 2000)

You get your OTP in some cases and that OTP cannot be read by your phone unless you have roaming

In my case, a friend from SBI Shanghai loaded money into my Alipay from his account

So best option is to preload Alipay from India itself except that it’s banned

So what to do?

Don’t worry

Enterprising Chinese at the Airport will gladly take your cash dollars (No Rupee) and load money into your Alipay

They even have counters for foreigners


Next VPN

Install Nord VPN and buy the Pro version

However be prepared for a few days to not have proper Twitter or Instagram or Facebook response

Unless you have WiFi router, Mobile Data usually doesn’t use VPN that efficiently


Finally get a prescription if you are carrying medicines please


Do Volunteer for the Face Scan. That way when you reach your hotel and they simply scan your face, and your details jump out and you don’t need a passport at all wherever you go within Shanghai (Only in Shanghai)

I had this happen to me.

My family and I were at home one evening, when all the sudden someone started frantically pounding on my front door. My wife opened the door to the neighbor lady who was crying hysterically. She invited her in, and she told us her husband was in a rage, and had put his hands on her.

About that time, the husband came charging through my front door, and began verbally assaulting his wife with profanity at the top of his lungs. In MY living room.

Before I had a chance to address the situation, my older daughter told him to tone it down, at which point he responded with “shut the F!#K up, B#!CH”.

The words barely left his lips before those lips were introduced to my fist.

Turns out he had no interest in fighting another man.

Once he found his feet, he was out my front door faster than he barged in. I’m sure most of the folks reading this will be disgusted with my actions. I Don’t care.

What does matter to me, is the opinion of that man’s wife.

Years later, she thanked me, saying he never put his hands on her again.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid she would run to my house!

Fine by me.

Classic TV Commercials from the ’60s and ’70s

OMG!

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Before the lights go out, make the night worthy.

There is a lot going on. Man, oh man, are we in the middle of big change. But you all should not freak out about it. It’s all under control.

Forces MAJ sit ready and are watching and controlling everything. It’s all part of the big plan. Don’t freak.

Go have a good meal today.

Treat yourself.

And splurge with an expensive dessert afterwards. Make the night worthy.

Are you sure you want an answer?

I give you the benefit of the doubt even though such questions are mainly asked to discredit China.

The real reason is that China is of Confucian heritage, it prefers to hide its true strength and let westerners to still think China is poor or weak. The truth may hurt you but I suspect that the Chinese economy is way bigger that is reported. As high as 1.5 times presently.

China’s economy is highly SME dependent while US economy is more MNC and higher concentrated on big companies. That makes accounting and auditing easier compared to China. Many companies in China just operate under the radar. Most don’t pay taxes. Hence the honest truth is a big chunk of China’s production is simply unaccounted.

I do suspect that China simply ignores these figures too as it gives China a cushion and the west lived to underestimate China due to their superiority complex and this underestimation gives China a head start. My guess is by now China’s economy is way bigger than US for the past decade.

The Sopranos – Chris Gives Up Adriana

The most heart wrenching scene in the series. He goes to his Mob Boss, and tells him that his fiance has been working with the FBI. He says that he knows that she must be killed, but that he just cannot do it.

Changes

郭台銘 CEO of APPLE biggest Taiwan supply chains manufacturer suddenly changed tone on China.

In the last taiwan presidential election campaign, he claimed that he feeds millions of Chinese workers in his China factories , and the CCP need him instead of the other ways round. He later withdraw from the campaign.

Yesterday, he restart his ambitions to run as the coming presidential election candidate. He visited jinmen (the Taiwan controlled island 2km away from the mainland China), this time he said both sides of the Taiwan straits are a family, we all China people (中国人)。it would appear to me that the tide has changed in Taiwan.

快新聞/郭台銘金門發表和平宣言 稱「兩岸一家親」:同為中國人 - 民視新聞網

From HERE

George Carlin – The American Dream

So successful? Chinese pressure? Please be patient and read the following story before you draw a conclusion.

This is the real experience in Taiwan shared by Thomas Pauken II:

When visiting Taiwan for a research excursion a few weeks ago, a number of long-time residents on the island advised me to check out the southwestern port city of Kaohsiung. They had described it as a wonderful tourist town. Meanwhile, it’s the second-largest city in Taiwan island; the Port of Kaohsiung has enjoyed an historic reputation as a bustling metropolitan zone for international trade and domestic manufacturing industries. The economic success story of Taiwan in recent decades was achieved largely on account of the island opening up big factories while the Port of Kaohsiung served as a major hub for international shipping trade and as transit points for shippers going to and from Chinese Mainland, Southeast Asia, South Asia, along with the North and South American markets.

I was also working with a documentary team to film the Port of Kaohsiung and the sea for backdrop views. But on May 2, a normal work day for local people, we took a high speed rail from Taipei and reached the Main Station of Kaohsiung at approximately 10:30 am during regular business hours. When arriving at the nearby streets, we did not see a robust trading port city but a dead zone that more closely resembled a ghost town.

In most major cities on weekday mornings, you will observe large crowds of pedestrians rushing to work and traffic jams galore. Yet in Kaohsiung near the port, we saw empty streets, few cars and waited over 20 minutes before spotting a taxi. Many shops were shuttered, while vacant lots were a common sight. Even after our brief filming, we walked the streets at 12:30 pm and could not find a local restaurant to serve customers, including the shops that were open.

We found a taxi to take us to the scenic spots near the port and walked into empty restaurants there as well. It had only one place, but it offered over-priced seafood and no customers could be seen. Accordingly, it was apparent that the economy in Taiwan is hitting hard times and that’s a wake-up call, since the ruling-party DPP (Democratic Progressive Party) has boasted of having close ties with Washington and argued that such strong links have benefited the domestic economy overall.

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main qimg 80a12fc504b210bc9e387b78d593e955

(Photo taken on Jan 19, 2019 shows a freighter at a port in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.)

  • Growing concerns over unfair trade deals with the U.S.

During my two weeks in Taiwan, I had spoken with many local residents. The common consensus was that the DPP does have good relations with Washington, but most people on the island have expressed disappointment over Taiwan’s economic ties with the U.S. A few persons had explained that the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) had exploited Taipei’s over-eagerness to please Washington by accepting lopsided trade agreements. Consequently, local farmers, dairy farmers and ranchers suffered the unfortunate consequences. Taiwan was forced to lower tariffs on imported food from the U.S.

According to the USDA Foreign Agriculture Service Website:

“In 2022, the total value of U.S. agricultural and related products exported to Taiwan reached a record $4.4 billion, an increase of 13 percent compared to the previous year. Taiwan successfully remains the 6th largest market for U.S. agricultural & related exports. The record year surpassed the previous record set in 2018 of $4.1 billion. Products in the Consumer Oriented category continue to play an increasingly important role, with beef, poultry, and dairy products hitting new highs. Top 5 U.S. export categories to Taiwan in 2022 included soybeans ($1.1 billion), beef ($746 million), wheat ($379 million), poultry ($287 million), and corn ($268 million).”

Additionally, Taiwan has emerged as a major power player as a manufacturer of chips and semiconductors. TSMC (Taiwan Semiconductors Manufacturing Company) is based in Hsinchu, and has witnessed remarkable development in the past two decades. The company is operating massive foundries to produce semiconductors, which are used for nearly all electronics’ devices. In case you are unfamiliar with semiconductors – they serve as the technological brains for chips. If you are reading this article on your smart phone – there’s a semiconductor integrated into it.

We should take note that TSMC’s largest customer is not the U.S., but Chinese mainland. Washington loves to highlight their close friendship to Taipei but TSMC might not agree. U.S. President Joe Biden signed into law the Inflation Reduction Act, and CHIPS AND SCIENCE Act last year and both bills have harmed TSMC’s business prospects. The Hsinchu-based company has set up plans to open up a new foundry in Arizona, U.S., but the Biden administration has demanded tough terms to approve its application for $15 billion subsidy to the company. Washington has demanded profit-sharing on their returns and requiring the company to reduce its semiconductors’ exports to Chinese mainland.

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main qimg 2bd7a243d767835671b502e452d0b166 lq

(Photo taken on Nov. 13, 2021 by a fisheye lens shows the logo of Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC) displaying on a laptop screen in London, Britain.)

  • Chinese mainland, not U.S., can rescue Taiwan economy

As reported in an article posted by Mobile World Live on April 21, 2021:

“Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), a major supplier of processors to Apple, Arm and Nvidia, predicted revenue to decline in 2023 as weakening macroeconomic conditions slow end-user demand, after Q1 sales hit the low end of a forecast.

On an earnings call, CEO CC Wei said TSMC expects a low- to mid-single-digit decline in full-year revenue. He said a fabless semiconductor inventory adjustment in the first half is taking longer than previously expected.”

Western media reports routinely blame the lower global demand for chips to explain TSMC’s sudden downturn, but politics deserves greater scrutiny. The Biden administration is punishing Taiwan companies for having strong business ties with Chinese mainland and as a result – Taiwan global trade figures are stumbling. Taiwan had long enjoyed good trade ties with Chinese mainland but Washington’s new restrictions in efforts to push ahead on U.S.-China economic and hi-tech decoupling are placing many Taiwan exporters in a bind.

“China’s economy is strong and it’s Chinese mainland that can save our economy, not the Americans,” a local Taipei resident who wished to be quoted anonymously by China Focus. “Yes, we still love America, but the people in Taiwan are realistic. They know if a severe depression strikes the island, U.S. business will just cash out and leave.”

The person speaking to China Focus said that she is a DPP voter. One wonders whether she will remain a DPP supporter if the Taiwan economy crashes. It should also be noted that southern Taiwan, which includes Kaohsiung, is a regional stronghold for the DPP.

The Port of Kaohsiung is no longer a bustling hub for international trade. The U.S. government has not proven to be helpful economic partner for Taiwan. But does Washington care? We can’t say with certainty that they do.

Seinfeld Risk Management

US railway plan a mere copycat, hard to win favor from Middle East

Published: May 08, 2023 08:27 PM
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According to media reports, national security advisors from the US, India, Saudi Arabia and the UAE met in Saudi Arabia on Sunday to discuss a US proposal to link the Middle Eastern nations through a network of railway lines and connect the region to South Asia via sea lanes.

US media outlet Axios, which ran an exclusive report before the talks, said, “The project is one of the key initiatives the White House wants to push in the Middle East as China’s influence in the region grows. The Middle East is a key part of China’s Belt and Road vision.”

Xu Liang, an associate professor at the School of International Relations, Beijing International Studies University, told the Global Times that the US is trying to coordinate its Middle East policy with its South Asia policy, thereby creating a US-style railway plan in the Middle East that is different from China’s initiative.

“This is the revival of the Cold War mentality in the Middle East. The plan is a deliberate containment of China’s Belt and Road Initiative,” said Xu.

China has been engaging with the Middle East through the Belt and Road Initiative for years. Its peacemaker role in the recent Saudi-Iran detente has been lauded by the international community, countries in the region in particular, and injected momentum of stability to the region. All these trajectories have deeply worried the US.

The idea for the railway project germinated in the I2U2 forum 18 months ago, which includes Israel, India, the US and the UAE. Wen Jing, a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for International Security and Strategy, Tsinghua University, told the Global Times that I2U2 was relatively quiet since its formation, but after the US saw China’s successful mediation in the Saudi-Iran deal, I2U2 is now becoming active with the discussions of the railway plan. “I2U2, together with Quad and AUKUS, constitutes the US’ global strategy to contain China,” said Wen.

Ding Long, a professor with the Middle East Studies Institute of Shanghai International Studies University, believes that the US is saving its declining influence in the region with something it is not good at, which will make the US’ rail plan hard to achieve its desired goal.

According to a report released by the American Society of Civil Engineers in 2021, the US spent just over half of what was required to support infrastructure, the backbone of the economy. Even former US president Donald Trump once compared the US’ crumbling infrastructure to that of a third-world country. US President Joe Biden signed a $1 trillion infrastructure bill into law at the end of 2021, while a Politico article in mid-2022 said the inflation plaguing Biden’s presidency was also shrinking what’s so far been his crowning legislative achievement, referring to the infrastructure bill.

It is worth mentioning that the victims of the calamitous train derailment accident in East Palestine, Ohio, are still suffering. There were at least 1,164 train derailments across the US last year, according to data from the Federal Railroad Administration. Here is another startling data: The Bureau of Transportation Statistics found that 54,539 train derailments occurred in the US from 1990 to 2021, an average of 1,704 per year. If there is something that the US could export to the Middle East besides its “democracy” and “freedom,” it must be the freedom to derail.

The US, the most powerful country in the world, performs so poorly in terms of railway construction and infrastructure. As it’s now trying to woo Middle Eastern nations to establishment a network of railway lines, it is a mere copycat. While connectivity and win-win cooperation are in China’s mind when it is promoting infrastructure, what is in the mind of the US is countering its perceived rivals and sustaining its global hegemony.

“In terms of the technology and costs of building railways, no other country in the world than China has the prominent advantage. What the Middle Eastern countries want from the US is not a railway, but security. However, the US did not and could not bring security to the region, but messed up the security situation there. This is the dilemma the US is facing in the Middle East,” said Ding.

Now the Middle East is witnessing a strong wave of rapprochement. The reconciliation between Saudi Arabia and Iran under China’s mediation presents an alternative vision to the Middle Eastern geopolitical scene. Qatar and Bahrain reestablished diplomatic relations. Egypt and Turkey are also mending ties. Progress is made in Yemen’s peace talks. Just on Sunday, the Arab League has brought Syria back into its fold after 12 years. All these show that the US’ Middle Eastern allies do not act in accordance with the US’ playbook.

“They care more about their interests, and aren’t following US lecturing. As their independence and autonomy is increasing, the Middle Eastern countries will not buy into US tactic of forming small cliques,” said Ding.

Seinfeld: Emotional Intelligence – Self Management

Bet you didn’t know…

US spy satellites executed a staggering count of 14 close-in reconnaissance missions on Chinese high-orbit satellites, all within a span of under two years, according to reports in Chinese media.

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main qimg dc6a5c9937834797ac2f54c00d65a212

The media report citing a study by Chinese researchers, has revealed that the US Air Force’s Geosynchronous Space Situational Awareness Program (GSSAP) satellites performed a series of maneuvers, repeatedly approaching China’s most prized and advanced satellites in the geostationary orbit (GEO) from February 2020 to December 2021.

In a recent publication in the Chinese-language journal Infrared and Laser Engineering, researcher Cai Sheng and the Changchun Institute of Optics, Fine Mechanics and Physics team expressed grave concerns about the security of Chinese high-value space assets due to the recurring close approaches of the GSSAP satellite.

The study said that through a sequence of tests focused on space attack and defense technologies, the US military has unmistakably demonstrated both their capability and intent to interfere with China’s use of space.

China currently operates a fleet of GEO satellites that serve various functions, including communications, navigation, and remote sensing. GEO satellites are strategically positioned at a fixed point above the Earth’s equator, ensuring that they remain stationary relative to the ground at all times.

GEO satellites are preferred for applications such as communications and broadcast due to their ability to maintain a constant connection with users on the ground, despite being more expensive to launch and operate than Low-Earth Orbit (LEO) satellites.

Many countries utilize these satellites for military communications, surveillance, and critical infrastructure, such as banking and finance systems.

A Beijing-based space scientist, who was not involved in the study, was quoted as saying that close encounters in space are typically shrouded in secrecy due to the military’s perception of such information as sensitive or classified.

The rationale behind this approach is to prevent the disclosure of their capabilities or vulnerabilities to other nations. By maintaining a veil of confidentiality, military forces aim to safeguard their strategic advantages while navigating the complexities of the ever-evolving space domain.

Disclosing such incidents could also risk exacerbating tensions between countries and potentially triggering diplomatic or military conflicts. The timing of China’s decision to release this information remains unclear.

The Changchun-based institute, a subsidiary of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, has a well-established history of contributing to China’s space program by developing laser technology, remote sensing, and space optics.

US GSSAP Satellites

The Chinese study highlights that GSSAP satellites represent the latest generation of space surveillance satellites deployed by the US Air Force. Specifically designed to monitor and track objects in geosynchronous orbit, these satellites are equipped with state-of-the-art technology.

They feature high-resolution optical cameras and advanced electronic surveillance equipment, enabling them to capture detailed images and intercept radio signals from other satellites.

The capabilities of these GSSAP satellites underscore the sophisticated methods the US employs to gather intelligence and maintain situational awareness in the geosynchronous orbit.

According to the Chinese study, on February 26, 2020, a GSSAP satellite carried out a fly-around maneuver specifically aimed at Tianlian 2-01, a satellite integral to China’s Tianlian space tracking and data relay system.

The Tianlian system plays a crucial role in establishing communication links between spacecraft in orbit and ground stations on Earth, serving as a vital support system for China’s human space flight program and other space-related endeavors.

Seinfeld – Effective Product Owner vs. Ineffective Product Owner

Wisconsin Chicken Booyah
(Belgian Beef, Pork, Chicken Stew)

Wisconsin Chicken Booyah is famous in the Fox River Valley region — Green Bay, Wisconsin. Booyah and beer go great together. Booyah King, Bob Baye, of Green Bay, Wisconsin, has been making Booyah since about 1946 in 100-gallon cookers.

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2023 05 13 21 33

Ingredients

  • 1 roasting or stewing chicken (about 4 pounds)
  • 1 pound beef stew meat, with bones
  • 1 pound pork stew meat, with bones
  • 1/2 cup minced parsley
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon rosemary
  • 1 tablespoon thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon sage
  • 4 cups quartered potatoes
  • 2 cups chopped onions
  • 2 cups chopped celery
  • 1 cup carrots, cut up
  • 1 cup green beans, cut up
  • 1 cup fresh peas
  • 1 cup skinned, seeded, chopped tomatoes
  • 2 lemons

Instructions

  1. Put chicken into a deep kettle with the beef and pork. Cover with boiling water. Bring slowly to a simmer, remove scum from the top, and add herbs and seasonings. Simmer very gently, covered, about 1 hour.
  2. Remove chicken and, when cooled, take meat form the bones and cut into pieces. Let beef and pork continue to cook until tender, 45 minutes to an hour more.
  3. Remove and let cool enough to remove meat from bones. Add vegetables to the broth and simmer 5 to 10 minutes.
  4. Grate lemon rind and set aside; remove white pith and seeds from the lemons, chop the pulp, and add to the broth. Taste for seasoning.
  5. While vegetables are still crisp, return the meat pieces to the broth to heat through. Serve in large soup bowls and sprinkle with the lemon rind.

China’s leaders have no private affairs. Keeping this principle in mind will help you understand Chinese political ethics.

China treated Ms von der Leyen almost humiliatingly, but hosted President Macron to a very high standard. That in itself speaks for our disappointment with the EU. During the second term of President Xi, China found it completely impossible for the EU to take on important responsibilities in a multipolar world. We have to hope that France, the great Western power was under the leadership of General Charles de Gaulle, can reclaim their belief in sovereignty, dignity and liberty, and not like Ms von der Leyen willingly serve as a doll for Washington DC.

A united, independent and strong European Union is indeed in China’s interests, but such a European Union cannot become a reality, and it is meaningless to continue to maintain respect for this zombie organization. China hopes that France can take on important responsibilities, including but not limited to geopolitical ones. For example, President Xi made it clear that China is willing to support a peace initiative for a conflict between Russia and Ukraine, but this peace plan should be negotiated by multiple parties and be proposed and led by Europe (especially France). The Western media often speculates that China hopes to expand its influence by leading a peace plan, but those who know us know that it is impossible for China to be willing to lead such a peace plan. Because we believe that European affairs should be resolved by Europeans, including Russia, through consultation.

I say without hesitation that for quite some time to come, China’s primary goal in international geopolitics is to weaken the influence of US hegemony rather than to replace the US and establish a new dominant position. To this end, providing the necessary support to other regional powers interested in rebuilding a multi-polar world is feasible and can ease the pressure China faces in the Pacific.

China sincerely hopes that France can make the right choice for her and her descendants.

The Iron Fist of Russia: Their Unstoppable Military Power Is Yet to Be Unleashed – Seymour Hersh

https://youtu.be/tDox6kyOz8s

Large Russian Missile Strikes in Ukraine Last Night

A massive missile attack by the Russian Armed Forces on the Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) took place overnight May 12-13, 2023.

Russian Armed Forces (RuAF) launched a massive missile attack on enemy targets throughout Ukraine. Basically, “Geran” Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAV) [Drones] were used.

The first explosions were heard in Kramatorsk and Slavyansk a little after midnight. In Zaporozhye and Nikolaev, explosions thundered in the first few hours of the night.

Afterwards,  there were several explosions in the Solomensky district of Kyiv.

Whether this was the result of an air defense operation or whether individual targets were actually hit is currently unknown. Local sources circulated footage of burning equipment, which was recorded in an “ambulance.”

The largest explosions fell on Khmelnitsky.

The Khmelnytsky Instrument-Making Plant “Neva” was struck. The company produced radio engineering systems, equipment for airfields and aircraft.

Judging by the prolonged secondary detonation from the field, there was an ammunition depot at the plant – the UAV warehouse could well have been hit, too.

The authors of the War History of Weapons channel, citing their sources, write (https://t.me/warhistoryalconafter/100760) that the Kation plant in the industrial zone in the south-west of Khmelnitsky was also hit, but we did not find footage confirming the strike on the Web.

In addition, there were reports of explosions in Lvov, but, alas, there is no confirmation.

China JUST Threatened President Biden And USA

China’s communist party president Xi Jinping give Biden and the US military his strongest warning yet.

Representative Cory Bush wants the US government to pay $14 trillion in reparations to black Americans.

MSNBC say president Biden works harder than any other president and you’d be lucky if you could keep up with him.

2023 05 19 17 43
2023 05 19 17 43

Regime Change Watch

Tomorrow there will be elections in Turkey and Thailand. In both countries the U.S. would like to see the current opposition win.

Recent pieces in the New York Times leave no doubt about that.

A Crucial Question in Thailand’s Election: Can You Criticize the King?
Liberal voters have intensified their scrutiny of the Thai monarchy in recent years. Conservatives have responded with a campaign to defend the institution at all costs.

An Erdogan Loss in Turkey Would Stir Relief in the West and Anxiety in Moscow
European leaders would be delighted to have “an easier Turkey,” while Russia could lose an important economic and diplomatic partnership should the Turkish leader lose power in Sunday’s elections.

Polls in both countries seem to be between all over the place and tight but my hunch is that the incumbents have a good chance to win.

If the results are to the favor of the current governments the U.S. may well use its well honed color revolution schemes to change the outcomes.

It has done so before, not only in Turkey and Thailand, but also in many other countries.

For a long time, the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) has plotted “peaceful evolution” and “color revolutions” as well as spying activities around the world. Although details about these operations have always been murky, a new report released by China’s National Computer Virus Emergency Response Center and Chinese cybersecurity company 360 on Thursday unveiled the main technical means the CIA has used to scheme and promote unrest around the world.

For decades, the CIA has overthrown or attempted to overthrow at least 50 legitimate governments abroad (the CIA has only recognized seven of these instances), causing turmoil in related countries. Whether it is the “color revolution” in Ukraine in 2014, the “sunflower revolution” in Taiwan island, China, or the “saffron revolution” in Myanmar in 2007, the “green revolution” in Iran in 2009, and other attempted “color revolutions” — the US intelligence agencies are behind them all, according to the report.The US’ leading position in technologies of telecommunication and on-site command has provided unprecedented possibilities for the US intelligence community to launch “color revolutions” abroad. The report released by the National Computer Virus Emergency Response Center and 360 disclosed five methods commonly used by the CIA.

We need therefore to keep an eye open for new regime change attempts.

Posted by b at 16:31 UTC | Comments (66)

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Chris Hedges | The ABYSMAL State of America

https://youtu.be/qHskoWgWIU4

Catzillas: Giant Cats In Urban Landscapes

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Indonesian artist Fransdita Muafidin publishes a series of photomontages with kittens and fat adult cats among the urban landscapes from around the world.

More info: Instagram

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There is NO DEBT PROBLEM

Because China and Chinese Companies raises most of its money by issuing debt , the debt looks high

In USA, Private entities issue Equities or Shares where they share the risk with the investors. They issue various dubious instruments to raise money and capital and get wall street to urge pension funds and insurance companies to invest money into the same dubious instruments

In India, Private entities raise capital from Bank Loans and Bank Financing which isn’t counted as Debt

In China, the public are protected and entities raise capital through DEBT or Bonds and thus the debt looks very high

Still the key in China is A S S E T S

For every Yuan Debt, the borrower has assets

Land, Resources, Tecnology, Core Technology, Derived Technology etc

So China is in no trouble whatsoever


If you take the total amount that US entities and the Federal Government of USA and State Governments have borrowed through equities, bonds, other instruments it is $ 110 Trillion

US GDP is around $ 24 Trillion

So US has around 4.5 times more borrowings floating around in its economy than its GDP

Guess how much of these borrowings are backed by solid assets?

The Answer : 10.45%

This means almost $ 99 Trillion is being floated based on PAPER VALUES

Now Compare China

China and it’s Institutions combined owe a total of CNY 272 Trillion

China’s GDP is around CNY 120 Trillion

Thus China has only around 2.3 times more borrowings floating around its economy than its GDP

Guess how much of these borrowings are backed by Solid Assets?

The Answer : 150% almost

Good Old Socialism Zindabaad.

All the Land, Coal, Rare Earth’s, Manufacturing, Gold Mines, Oil Reserves back this debt , railroads, technology back this debt

Almost CNY 370 Trillion worth of assets back this debt

That’s still only around 60% of China’s Wealth

So even in the worst disaster — China can still secure it’s entire debt while US will be unable to secure 90% of its debt with assets


So China is immensely more powerful than USA — Economy wise

People keep harping on this debt because they slyly don’t mention how much US debt is backed by nothing but PAPER and more PAPER

Their assumption is US paper is beyond doubt

It’s part of the Western Propaganda

CHINA IS EXTREMELY STRONG ECONOMY WISE

They can take their debt upto 350 Trillion Yuan at least before they decide to be cautious


Before you ask, India

India has a total borrowings of ₹ 339.81 Lakh Crore which is only 1.38 times the GDP which is almost half of China’s and a fourth of the USAs

Of these again a lovely and wonderful 116% is backed by Assets or around ₹ 375 Lakh Crore of Assets

Again Socialism Zindabaad

2023 05 19 17 54
2023 05 19 17 54

By Alastair Crooke

China and Russia are joining hands militarily. This will portend a strategic paradigm change that may force a U.S. re-consideration of the way ahead.

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main qimg 3bd8dfb04af36f3832bd0052744e8d54

The sense that things are bad, and getting worse, is palpable.

There is an undeniable eschatological tint to today’s zeitgeist. Spiralling geo-political factors all suggest extreme turbulence ahead.

Biden and the Democrats discover – to their surprise – that they are in a ‘bind’: Having thought to run in 2024 on ‘the Biden economic record’, Biden’s Team finds prospects dissolving in the face of accelerating events.

And Ukraine – which was to be precursor to the toppling of Russia per se – looks more likely to descend into débâcle. With defeat on two fronts (the financial ‘war’ and diplomatic) already established, and with the Ukrainian entity now incrementally atrophying under Russian military attrition on yet another front, Washington frets whether or not to run a Ukrainian offensive at all – fearing it might seal a Ukrainian catastrophe.

Kiev hears Washington’s equivocation on the likely outcome of the Ukrainian offensive; Kiev understands too that this could mean ‘curtains’ for the Zelensky ‘project’ – were Biden to decide that it is time to draw a line under it, and to complete the pivot to China. It would mean literally ‘the end’ for most of the Kiev leadership.

The change in strategy is already evident: John Kirby (Sullivan’s spokesperson) has been brandishing highly exaggerated Russian losses in Bakhmut / Artyomovsk. At the same time that he suggests that though Russia somehow may seem to be ‘winning’, in reality it has been defeated. Blinken followed up on this theme the following day with ‘Russia has failed in its objective to erase Ukraine’, and therefore, has ‘lost’ – having failed to achieve its objectives.

Clearly, Team Biden are falling back onto a Pyrrhic victory for Russia ‘narrative’, with Ukraine’s survival cast as ‘mission accomplished’.

The consequence was predictable: with a U.S. ‘exit’ apparently looming, some major provocation (i.e. the drone attack on the Kremlin) was to be expected. ‘Someone’ clearly is desperate to trigger a Russian overreaction that would, in turn, force the West to move to full war against Russia.

At time of writing, the details of who might be responsible for the Kremlin attack are unknown. There is however deep, passionate anger in Russia. The Kremlin must acknowledge this public sentiment. And there will be a response; but at the same time Moscow will not want to play into the provocateurs’ agenda. (9 May marks the Russian victory in the war against Nazi Germany. They will not want the day disrupted).

Faced with a prospective Ukraine imbroglio; with inflation spiking; a recession looming; a run on the banking system; and low poll ratings, ‘Team Biden’ seemingly has a plan.

It is the re-making of Biden as a ‘War President’, through mobilising America to take-down China, whilst the Establishment believes America may still have the (conventional military) edge.

The Pentagon ‘war-gaming’ reportedly implies the U.S. to have a chance before China becomes fully war-prepared.

Seems bizarre?

Well, the other ‘fronts’ (inflation, the financial bubble, recession, unaffordable medication and education) simply have NO solution.

They are deep structural problems.

America today is a place where most everyone recognizes the problems, but where veto power, entrenched interests, and ‘Uniparty’ domination in Congress forecloses on any attempted reform.

Trump tried to break the stasis, but failed.

Biden would fail, too, if he tried.

So, if solving America’s problems is ‘the problem’, then becoming a ‘War President’ conceivably could be seen as the ‘solution’.

Of course, since western societies today cannot look truth in the eye, the West must emerge as the ‘victim’ of events, and not the author of its plight; thus paving the justification for war. And to ensure this narrative sticks in the public domain, preparatory warning shots have been fired towards the mass media to ‘stay on team’.

“Great Power rivalry, and the competition for diminishing resources – are but old realities reborn”, Robert Kaplan warns

. “Their return is the revenant of history that now defines a present of increasing peril and uncertainty”.

“The world situation is similar to that in the run-up to 1914. New technologies have not overcome rivalry over scarce natural resources, only shifted its focus”, Philosopher John Gray writes

A new version of the late-19th-century Great Game is afoot. The two world wars were in part driven by a need for oil. Western societies’ belief that options can always be expanded by human agency has been a central feature of the western political project – and of progressive liberalism too, writes Professor Helen Thompson.

She continues that “… missing is the fact that technology cannot create energy [at least of the type that modern society needs]. This human agency conviction has long proved overly-sanguine. Those who assume that the political world can be reconstructed by the efforts of human Will, have never before had to bet so heavily on technology over [fossil] energy – as the driver of our material advancement”.

Aahh – Professor Thompson lets the cat out of the bag.

This hugely risky ‘war bet’ – i.e. that our complex societies can be increasingly run on Green Tech, rather than ‘19th Century natural resources’ – is a gamble, brought on, Thompson suggests, “by an underlying mood of existential dread, a nagging suspicion that our civilisation may destroy itself, as so many others have done in the past”. (Hence the impulse to reassert domination – even at the price of accelerating a possible western self-suicide).

Her point is that the general cultural zeitgeist is trending towards the hopeless and nihilistic.

Yes – but who was responsible for the West needing to place this bet for its future on technology over energy?

Europe had a cheap, reliable supply of energy until it threw in its hand with the U.S. and European neo-cons’ plans.

The western ‘golden age’ was tied to zero interest rates and zero inflation.

There were decades of near zero inflation precisely because of cheap manufactures coming from China and cheap energy from Russia. Now the West faces the demon of inflation and higher interest rates ravaging its financial system. It was its choice.

Oh yes; the ‘narrative’, as Robert Kaplan explains , is that “fate is ultimately in the hands of human agency. But human agency need not have positive outcomes. Individuals such as Putin and Xi are human agents, who have caused a vast and bloody war in Ukraine – and are driving Asia toward a high-end military conflict over Taiwan”. Oh – so Ukraine and Taiwan have nothing to do with the neo-con project to extend U.S. hegemony into a new era?

Unable to address issues honestly, this collective of western intellectuals base the justification for a future China war on the premise that Putin, without due cause, simply chose to invade Ukraine on 24 February 2022, and that Xi is guilty of the intent to invade Taiwan – for which the West must properly respond by ‘maximally’ stockpiling weapons in Taiwan.

This justification is as mendacious as was the justification for the Iraq War.

Preparations for this war are ramping: More weapons in Taiwan; U.S. Special Forces conducting exercises for their infiltration into Taiwan in wake of any Chinese take-over (presumably to launch a guerrilla insurgency).

And as Andrew Korybko relates , the U.S. is rounding up allies in the Asia Pacific: South Korea has authorised nuclear armed U.S. submarines to dock at its ports;AUKUS is being strengthened; Japan is unofficially aboard; and Indonesia and the Philippines are under U.S. pressure to do their part.

In counterpoint to the usual play-book of rounding up allies ahead of a possible conflict, the EU High Representative, Josep Borrell, is proposing that the EU bloc’s navies patrol the Taiwan Strait . This came just several weeks after NATO Secretary-General Stoltenberg declared that “We are now stepping up our cooperation with our partners in the Indo-Pacific: Japan, South Korea, New Zealand and Australia.”

“The indisputable trend is that the U.S.’ European partners are poised to play a larger military role in the region, including a provocative one if they end up patrolling the Taiwan Strait”, Korybko writes.

The EU’s Von der Leyen and the EU is involved too – her name was mentioned three times in Jake Sullivan’s ‘New Washington Consensus’ speech in which the entire trend of policy, since the Reagan years, is scheduled to be reversed – from a return to protectionism; to central government intervention in support of industrial policy; to a bold investment in capacity-building;‘resilience’ and the re-appropriation of internal supply chains.

This is not however a true blueprint for reforming the U.S. economy – though it is billed as such.

True reform would require huge structural change.

It is all about re-orientating the economy for possible conventional war with China. (One lesson from the Ukraine conflict has been that industrial capacity matters). It is likely too, a pretext for increased fiscal spending (money printing) in the run-up to the 2024 Election.

Inevitably, those in the EU who are allied with the German ‘Greens’ and Von der Leyen are in ecstasy.

Officials in Brussels were talking about the “Biden-Von der Leyen ticket” (as if she were a U.S. Vice-Presidential candidate on the Democratic ‘ticket’!),and gushing about a U.S.-EU power alliance extending up to 2028!

What to make of these shifts?

To repeat: Biden is in a ‘bind’ and his Team is floundering.

It is hugely premature for the White House to call ‘mission accomplished’ on Ukraine – but what else can they do?

War with China will not be with China alone, but likely will be with Russia too. This surely was the essence  of the Chinese Defence Minister’s four-day visit to Moscow (including a personal session with Putin).

The message was clear enough: China and Russia are ‘joining hands militarily’. This will portend a strategic paradigm change that may well force a U.S. re-consideration of the way ahead – or not.

Why I gave up on the AMERICAN DREAM – and you should too

By Finian Cunningham

May 15, 2023

Taiwan is facing the curse of being an ally of Uncle Sam in the same way that Germany and the rest of Europe have.

Taiwan has been obliged to give its American ally an extraordinary warning: don’t even think about blowing up our semiconductor industry.

The warning follows growing calls by U.S. politicians and military analysts that Washington should destroy the island’s vital technology sector in order to purportedly prevent China from gaining control of lucrative exports and as a way of damaging China’s economy.

Congressman Seth Moulton is the latest American voice airing such drastic action. Referring to the Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company, Moulton said that the U.S. should “make it very clear to the Chinese that if you invade Taiwan, we’re going to blow up TSMC.”

TMSC is the world’s biggest manufacturer of semiconductors. It is a major supplier to mainland China of hi-tech chips that are, in turn, critical for a wide range of Chinese manufacturing and export industries.

Previously, it was reported that the U.S. Army War College suggested that Washington should plan “scorched-earth” tactics that could render Taiwan “not just unattractive if ever seized by force, but positively costly to maintain.”

Taiwan has reacted furiously to these unilateral American calls for sabotage. The island territory’s defense chief Chiu Kuo-cheng slammed the U.S. tough-talking, saying “the [Taiwanese] armed forces would not tolerate the destruction of any Taiwanese facility”.

The projected bombing of Taiwan’s vital semiconductor industry echoes how the U.S. blew up the Nord Stream gas pipeline last September. The pipeline under the Baltic Sea was part-owned by Germany and Russia, to deliver natural gas to fuel the German and European economies.

The decision to sabotage Nord Stream was taken by U.S. President Joe Biden, according to excellent investigative reporting by Seymour Hersh. The purpose of that act of terrorism was to cut Germany and Europe off from Russian energy exports, to be replaced by more expensive American gas. That strategic objective of displacing Russia from Europe’s energy market has been a recurring issue for successive U.S. administrations over many years.

Months before the Baltic Sea pipeline was blown up by U.S. navy divers, Biden had bragged that the facility would be terminated. He did not specify how, but he vowed that “it would not go ahead”. Biden made his blatant threat in front of German Chancellor Olaf Scholz during a press conference at the White House. Evidently, America’s NATO ally Germany was not even consulted about the sabotage plan.

A similar arrogant attitude is now on display towards America’s other ally Taiwan.

Washington is evidently toying with the idea of blowing up the island’s tech industry as a way to damage mainland China’s interests. Like Germany, Taiwan is revealed to be nothing more than a pawn, in America’s geopolitical machinations.

Destroying Taiwan’s lead role in the global semiconductor industry would have the additional advantage of putting U.S. companies in pole position.

Ostensibly, the U.S. had repeatedly vowed to “defend” Taiwan from what it calls “China’s aggression”. Washington has pumped the island with billions of dollars of American weaponry under the pretext of “protecting” it from China’s claims of sovereignty.

Under international and U.S. law, Taiwan is recognized as an integral part of China under the so-called One China Policy. However, Beijing accuses Washington of meddling in its sovereignty by fomenting separatist politics in Taiwan.

China’s President Xi Jinping has warned the U.S. that Taiwan is its “first red line” that must not be crossed. Beijing reserves the right to use military force to fully unify the territory if Washington continues to stoke tensions and promote a declaration in Taipei of Taiwanese independence.

Underlying America’s seemingly chivalrous claims of “defending” Taiwan are geopolitical selfish interests.

The Biden administration has imposed unprecedented export bans on semiconductor technology to China. The U.S. wants to curb China’s economy for its own gain and to hamper the development of a multipolar global economy. U.S. dominance and its dollar hegemony are threatened by China’s growing economic power.

Blowing up Taiwan’s semiconductor industry is evidently being considered as a way to cripple China which is reliant on exports of this essential technology for its industries.

The analogy with Germany and the Nord Stream gas pipeline is that Washington is aiming to damage a rival, Russia, as well as its European allies for its own strategic benefit. The sabotage of Russian-European energy trade has led to severe economic impacts on Germany and the rest of Europe. Some commentators refer to the “deindustrialization” of Europe caused by the loss of affordable Russian gas fuel. This shock treatment has been imposed on European “allies” by its supposed American “protector”.

The war in Ukraine and the dramatic escalation in hostility towards Russia from European governments has served American strategic interests from bonanza selling of weapons and expensive gas, as well as giving Washington a renewed dominance over European relations.

The same reckless, criminal arrogance of blowing up Germany’s Nord Stream pipeline is being shown in the way the Americans are talking brashly about blowing up Taiwan’s vital tech industries.

It should be obvious that Washington doesn’t have allies, only interests. When the chips are down, so to speak, America’s allies will be unceremoniously thrown under a bus or, worse, thrown into an inferno of war.

Taiwan is facing the curse of being an ally of Uncle Sam in the same way that Germany and the rest of Europe have.

The Sopranos – Christopher And Silvio Talk To Hitmen

Social Security Payments May Be “Interrupted” if US Defaults on Debts by June 1

With the odds of a U.S. debt default increasing, Social Security advocates warn beneficiaries they should be prepared in case their payments are interrupted.

Negotiations around whether the nation’s ability to borrow money should be expanded have been ongoing, but Congress and the White House have yet to reach an agreement on the path forward.

The impasse has placed the U.S. in a precarious financial position, and leaves some of the most vulnerable Americans at risk.

Dan Adcock, director of government relations and policy for the National Committee to Preserve Social Security and Medicare, said there is a “good chance” that in the event of a default, millions of Americans’ benefits would be disrupted.

“Seniors should be prepared if they’re financially able,” Adcock said, adding they should consider putting off discretionary purchases “so they have enough to tide them over.”

But millions of beneficiaries have no financial room to maneuver, Adcock said, noting that about 40% of Social Security recipients, which include Americans who are disabled and those who are widowed, receive 90% of their income from the safety net program. That equates to nearly 27 million people.

“Even though we’re a few weeks before a default, they won’t have enough to squirrel away to cushion for not getting their payments,” Adcock said.

Analysts suggest it isn’t certain that the government will miss payments to Social Security recipients in the event of a default. The matter would likely depend on how much cash is on hand if or when the debt ceiling is breached.

The staggered schedule of Social Security payments, which relies on an individual’s birthdate to determine which part of the month they receive them, means not all beneficiaries would be equally affected in a missed or partial-payment scenario.

The White House and House Republicans remain at odds after meeting on Wednesday to discuss a resolution to the impasse. NBC News Capitol Hill correspondent Ali Vitali reported the meeting was “tense.” Led by House Speaker Kevin McCarthy, the GOP seeks spending cuts from President Joe Biden in exchange for an agreement to raise the debt ceiling and avoid a default.

On Thursday, the White House said a scheduled follow-up meeting had been postponed.

Wisconsin-Style French Onion Soup

While you might imagine French onion soup in a Parisian brasserie, Wisconsin-Style French Onion Soup is the ultimate at-home meal to soothe your worries and warm your soul from the inside. Stacked high with sweetly caramelized onions, crusty bread and piles of melted cheese, it’s hard to imagine anything better.

wisconsin style french onion soup
wisconsin style french onion soup

Active time: 40 min | Yield: 8 servings, 1 cup each

Ingredients

  • 5 tablespoons butter, cubed and divided
  • 3 pounds medium onions, halved and thinly sliced
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 12 ounces lager beer
  • 4 cups (1 quart) beef broth
  • 8 ounces pretzel rolls, buns or bread, cubed
  • 10 ounces Blaser’s Mild Wisconsin Brick cheese, shredded (2 1/2 cups)

Instructions

  1. Melt 4 tablespoons butter in a Dutch oven over low heat. Add onions; cook, covered, for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  2. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in sugar. Cook, uncovered, over medium heat for 35 to 40 minutes or until onions are deep brown, stirring frequently.
  3. Gradually stir in beer; allow soup to boil. Reduce heat; simmer, uncovered, for 2 to 3 minutes.
  4. Stir in beef broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer, uncovered, for 25 to 30 minutes longer or until broth is slightly reduced, stirring occasionally.
  5. Meanwhile, heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  6. Melt remaining butter; toss butter with pretzel bread on a 15 x 10 inch baking pan. Season with salt and pepper. Bake for 5 to 7 minutes or until bread is toasted, turning once.
  7. Ladle soup into eight ovenproof serving bowls. Top each with bread cubes; sprinkle with brick.
  8. Broil 3 to 4 inches from the heat for 2 to 3 minutes or until cheese is melted.

Notes

Brick cheese is a Wisconsin original. Traditional aged or German-style brick has a beige smear on its surface; the color darkens and flavor intensifies with age. Trimming the rind reduces its aroma and flavor.

Negotiation

BREAKING NEWS: UKRAINE DOWNS **MULTIPLE** RUSSIAN MILITARY AIRCRAFT — ***INSIDE RUSSIA***

Reports are screaming out of Bryansk Russia that Ukraine has downed at least five, and possibly as many as EIGHT Russian military aircraft, and did so INSIDE RUSSIA!

According to Russian Sources today has been the Worst Day in Decades for the Russian Air Force with 2 Mi-8 Transport Helicopters, 1 Su-34 Fighter/Bomber, and 1 Su-35 Air-Defense Fighter being Shot Down over the Bryansk Region of Western Russia by what is claimed to have been either Air-to-Air or Surface-to-Air Missiles which were Launched from Inside of Ukraine.

Pilots of the 4 Aircraft were killed in the Explosion and/or subsequent Crash.

Three of these are confirmed by local sources, with video.

The AA Missiles are likely from a US Patriot Missile System or French SAMP-T complex hidden somewhere in the city of Chernihiv.

In addition, the Ukrainian SU-24 that launched the missiles against Luhansk, and one of the two SU-29’s escorting were shot down yesterday – allegedly by an S-400.

 

UPDATE 12:26 PM EDT —

Russian newspaper Kommersant is the first Russian source to confirm a total of four aircraft (Two Mi-8 an Su-34, and an Su-35) were shot down.

 

UPDATE 12:40 PM EDT —

According to preliminary information, the helicopters lost in the sky of the Bryansk region were Mi-8MTPR-1 electronic warfare (EW) helicopters with Rychag-AV active jamming stations installed on board.

The Rychag-AV complexes were created to interfere with the guidance stations of air defense systems and enemy aircraft, preventing the use of anti-aircraft and aircraft missiles at a distance of more than a hundred kilometers. However, today the Mi-8MTPR-1 turned out to be too close to the border.

Most likely, the EW helicopters were engaged in providing the strike of the Su-34 bomber on the next target in the Chernihiv region, and the Su-35 fighter covered.”

 

RUSSIA DENIES ! ! ! 

From the Russian Ministry of Defense:

“• The claim that two Mi-8 transport helicopters, one Su-34 fighter/bomber, and one Su-35 air-defense fighter were shot down over the Bryansk region of Western Russia by missiles launched from inside Ukraine was widely circulated on social media and some news outlets on May 13.

• However, there is no official confirmation or evidence to support this claim from either the Russian or the Ukrainian authorities. The Russian Defense Ministry denied that any of its aircraft were shot down by Ukraine and said that the reports were part of a disinformation campaign.

• The only verified incident that occurred on May 13, 2023 was the crash of a Su-34 fighter/bomber in the Bryansk region due to a technical malfunction. The two pilots ejected safely and were rescued by a helicopter. The Russian Defense Ministry released a video of the crash site and the rescue operation.

• The other reports of downed helicopters and planes were either based on unverified sources, false images, or old incidents that were unrelated to the current situation. For example, some of the images used to show the wreckage of a Mi-8 helicopter were actually from a crash that happened in 2019 in Siberia. Some of the videos used to show the launch of missiles from Ukraine were actually from a military exercise that took place in 2018 in Belarus.

• The claim that Ukraine shot down Russian aircraft over Bryansk was likely part of a propaganda war between the two countries amid rising tensions and violence along their border.

 

HAL TURNER CONTEXT —

It is possible the Russian MoD does not have up-to-the-minute info yet.  At least one of the Mi-8’s was hit by a missile; there’s video evidence of the kill.
I’m pretty sure the Su-34 was also shot down.

The interesting fact is that these planes were shot down INSIDE RUSSIA 50Km from the Ukrainian border. That means long range SAM’s, air to air ambush with US made missiles, or a squad of Ukrainian fighters with manpads crossed the border and hit the planes from up close.

We’ll find out more soon.

Another certainty is that the Russians greatly increased the number of their bombing missions, so more targets are in the air to shoot at. Yesterday alone 145 bombing sorties were performed.

Uh Oh.

Best of Larry, Darryl, and Darryl (part 14)

Khmelnytskyi: Two NATO Tactical Nukes in Western Ukraine Storage Hit by Cheap ‘Iranian’ Drone…Radiation Alert Over Europe

.
A colossal explosion was heard at the main weapons and ammunition storage facility supplied by NATO in Khmelnytskyi, western Ukraine. Repeated large detonation explosions occurred after being hit by the missiles, as the depots stockpiled very large quantities of fuel and ammunition for Ukrainian forces’ planned offensive operation.

BREAKING NEWS! MUSHROOM CLOUD IN WEST UKRAINE! NATO Prepares Intervention, 24 Hrs of CARNAGE

By Colin Todhunter

It’s a lose-lose situation for Ukrainians. While they are dying, financial institutions are insidiously supporting the consolidation of farmland by oligarchs and Western financial interests.

So says Frédéric Mousseau, Policy Director of the Oakland Institute, an independent think tank.

Depending on which sources to believe, between 100,000 and 300,000 Ukrainian soldiers (possibly more) have died during the conflict with Russia. That figure, of course, does not include civilian casualties.

But it is not the purpose of this article to explore these issues. Much has already been written on this elsewhere. But billions of dollars’ worth of military hardware has been sent to Ukraine by the NATO countries and hundreds of thousands of young Ukrainians have died.

They died in the belief that they were protecting their nation – their land. A land that is among the most fertile in the world.

Professor Olena Borodina of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine says:

Today, thousands of rural boys and girls, farmers, are fighting and dying in the war. They have lost everything. The processes of free land sale and purchase are increasingly liberalised and advertised. This really threatens the rights of Ukrainians to their land, for which they give their lives.”

Borodina is quoted in the February 2023 report by the Oakland Institute War and Theft: The Takeover of Ukraine’s Agricultural Land

, which reveals how oligarchs and financial interests are expanding control over Ukraine’s agricultural land with help and financing from Western financial institutions.

Aid provided to Ukraine in recent years has been tied to a drastic structural adjustment programme requiring the creation of a land market through a law that leads to greater concentration of land in the hands of powerful interests. The programme also includes austerity measures, cuts in social safety nets and the privatisation of key sectors of the economy.

Frédéric Mousseau, co-author of the report, says:

“Despite being at the centre of news cycle and international policy, little attention has gone to the core of the conflict — who controls the agricultural land in the country known as the breadbasket of Europe. [The] Answer to this question is paramount to understanding the major stakes in the war.”

The report shows the total amount of land controlled by oligarchs, corrupt individuals and large agribusinesses is over nine million hectares — exceeding 28% of Ukraine’s arable land (the rest is used by over eight million Ukrainian farmers).

The largest landholders are a mix of Ukrainian oligarchs and foreign interests — mostly European and North American as well as the sovereign fund of Saudi Arabia. A number of large US pension funds, foundations and university endowments are also invested in Ukrainian land through NCH Capital – a US-based private equity fund, which is the fifth largest landholder in the country.

President Zelenskyy put the land reform into law in 2020 against the will of the vast majority of the population who feared it would exacerbate corruption and reinforce control by powerful interests in the agricultural sector.

The Oakland Institute notes that, while large landholders are securing massive financing from Western financial institutions, Ukrainian farmers — essential for ensuring domestic food supply — receive virtually no support. With the land market in place, amid high economic stress and war, this difference of treatment will lead to more land consolidation by large agribusinesses.

All but one of the ten largest landholding firms are registered overseas, mainly in tax havens such as Cyprus or Luxembourg. The report identifies many prominent investors, including Vanguard Group, Kopernik Global Investors, BNP Asset Management Holding, Goldman Sachs-owned NN Investment Partners Holdings, and Norges Bank Investment Management, which manages Norway’s sovereign wealth fund.

Most of the agribusiness firms are substantially indebted to Western financial institutions, in particular the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, the European Investment Bank, and the International Finance Corporation – the private sector arm of the World Bank.

Together, these institutions have been major lenders to Ukrainian agribusinesses, with close to US$1.7 billion lent to just six of Ukraine’s largest landholding firms in recent years. Other key lenders are a mix of mainly European and North American financial institutions, both public and private.

The report notes that this gives creditors financial stakes in the operation of the agribusinesses and confers significant leverage over them. Meanwhile, Ukrainian farmers have had to operate with limited amounts of land and financing, and many are now on the verge of poverty.

International financial institutions are in effect subsidising the concentration of land and a destructive industrial model of agriculture based on the intensive use of synthetic inputs, fossil fuels and large-scale monocropping.

Much of what is happening in Ukraine is part of a wider trend: private equity funds being injected into agriculture throughout the world and used to lease or buy up farms on the cheap and aggregate them into large-scale, industrial grain and soybean concerns. These funds use pension funds, sovereign wealth funds, endowment funds and investments from governments, banks, insurance companies and high net worth individuals (see the 2020 report ‘Barbarians at the Barn

‘ by grain.org

).

Financialising agriculture this way shifts power to people with no connection to farming. In the words of BlackRock’s Larry Fink

: “Go long agriculture and water and go to the beach.”

Funds tend to invest for between 10 and 15 years, resulting in good returns for investors but can leave a trail of long-term environmental and social devastation and serve to undermine local and regional food insecurity.

By contrast, according to the Oakland Institute, small-scale farmers in Ukraine demonstrate resilience and enormous potential for leading the expansion of a different production model based on agroecology and producing healthy food. Whereas large agribusinesses are geared towards export markets, it is Ukraine’s small and medium-sized farmers who guarantee the country’s food security.

This is underlined by the State Statistics Service of Ukraine in its report ‘Main agricultural characteristics of households in rural areas in 2011’, which showed that smallholder farmers in Ukraine operate 16% of agricultural land, but provide 55% of agricultural output, including 97% of potatoes, 97% of honey, 88% of vegetables, 83% of fruits and berries and 80% of milk.

In June 2020, the IMF approved

an 18-month, strings-attached $5 billion loan programme with Ukraine. Also that year, the World Bank incorporated measures

relating to the sale of public agricultural land as conditions in a $350 million Development Policy Loan (COVID ‘relief package’) to Ukraine. This included a required ‘prior action’ to “enable the sale of agricultural land and the use of land as collateral.”

According to the Oakland Institute:

Ukraine is now the world’s third-largest debtor to the International Monetary Fund and its crippling debt burden will likely result in additional pressure from its creditors, bondholders and international financial institutions on how post-war reconstruction – estimated to cost US$750 billion – should happen.”

Financial institutions are leveraging Ukraine’s crippling debt to drive further privatisation and liberalisation – backing the country into a corner to make it an offer it can’t refuse.

Since the war began, the Ukrainian flag has been raised outside parliament buildings in the West and iconic landmarks have been lit up in its colours. An image bite used to conjure up feelings of solidarity and support for that nation while serving to distract from the harsh machinations of geopolitics and modern-day economic plunder that is unhindered by national borders and has scant regard for the plight of ordinary citizens.

The Sopranos – Silvio And Adriana Go For A Ride

And so, by working for the FBI, she has to “go away”.

Biden with the band of psychopaths and their end of the world discussions

If one read the famous SunZi Art of War, the key points are actually less about fighting a war, it is about prevention and how to win a war without fighting, it is also about managing people to win the right to rule by winning the hearts and minds of the enemies. As such, SunZi urged that prisoners of war be respected and well treated, so that when they are released and return to their country, they will share their good experience with other soldiers.

The art of war also regard taking the entire city with the entire population in take with the least killing and damage to property are the top level achievement.

The reality that more than 90% of Chinese population regardless of their native languages, geographical location, food habits as Han Chinese tell a lot of the inclusive nature of traditional Chinese rulers towards the entire population.

Europe is still a me and you , US and Them mentality till this day. That why NATO and EU will not last beyond this century.

Lordy! Found at the end of a study about how to conduct war against China…

2023 05 18 16 51
2023 05 18 16 51

Things are ramping up towards war! America wants to fight China.

The idea of US being at war with China… is terrifying.

The Chinese government has always been committed to peacefully resolving the Taiwan issue. “Peaceful Reunification and One Country, Two Systems” fully considering the reality of Taiwan, is the basic policy for resolving the Taiwan issue and the best way to achieve national reunification.

The Chinese government is willing to engage in dialogue and communication with Taiwan’s political parties, groups, and individuals on the basis of the one-China principle and the “1992 Consensus,” and to exchange views widely.

It is also willing to continue to promote democratic consultations among representative figures elected by political parties and groups on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, to jointly promote the peaceful and integrated development of cross-strait relations and the peaceful reunification of the motherland.

However, we have also seen in recent years that the United States has intensified its efforts to use Taiwan as a tool to contain China, and has frequently engaged in provocative behavior.

The DPP authorities have even had the illusion that they can “rely on the US to seek independence.”

The collusion and provocation between the US and Taiwan are the real threat to peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait, casting a shadow over the process of peacefully resolving the Taiwan issue.

When reporting on issues related to China on the local time of the 16th, the US Consumer News and Business Channel (CNBC) hyped up Tesla CEO Elon Musk’s statement that day. Musk said in an interview that the official policy of the Chinese mainland on the Taiwan issue is to achieve reunification, which does not need to be interpreted, but should be “taken seriously.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5TzzzfLoTU

The Taiwan issue can be resolved peacefully, and the Taiwan Strait can be calm.

But this requires [1] the United States to stop playing the “Taiwan card,” [2] return to the essence of the one-China principle, [3] abide by the political commitments made to China, and [4] clearly oppose and stop “Taiwan independence.”

Ukraine Launches 100+ Drone Attack into Russia – 4 Explosions at Helicopter Factory

2023 05 18 16 56
2023 05 18 16 56

The Ukraine NAZI government launched air attacks with over 100 drones into Russia today. Most of the Drones were defeated by Russian Electronic Warfare, but several did get through as seen on video below. At least one drone hit a Helicopter Factory in Lyubertsy, Russia, outside of Moscow.

Lyubertsy is a city and the administrative center of Lyuberetsky District in Moscow Oblast, Russia.

Residents in Lyubertsy say they heard drone aircraft in the sky shortly before FOUR loud explosions.

Those explosions seem to have taken place at the Kamov company. Ukhtomsky Helicopter plant named after N. I. Kamov (developer of the Ka-50 “Black Shark” and Ka-52 “Alligator” helicopters)

As Rospublic writes, this happened some time after an UAV flew over Dimitrov near Moscow. Locals heard four explosions, then a fire broke out at the plant.

VIDEOS of drones in the air are now starting to appear on social media.

This one shows a drone flying over Dimitrov:

Sources inside Russia confirm over 100 drones heading to central regions were intercepted just today in Russia. Another source added that civilians in Moscow are struggling to get taxi due to interference of EW tools with GPS.

Mr. Gower (in “Teachers”)

Escaping Debt Slavery: Ethiopia, Africa, and the IMF

17 May 2023

UK escalation, Storm Shadow long-range missiles to Ukraine

2023 05 13 18 23
2023 05 13 18 23

A Minus And Plus For The Debt Ceiling Crisis

The debt ceiling discussions in Washington may well be help President Biden’s secret domestic agenda but it is hampering on of his foreign policy aims.

The New York Times economy columnist Paul Krugman is aghast that the Biden administration had not prepared for the obvious showdown with the Republicans:

As soon as Republicans took control of the House last November, it was obvious that they would try to take the economy hostage by refusing to raise the federal debt limit. After all, that’s what they did in 2011 — and hard as it may be to believe, the Tea Party Republicans were sober and sane compared to the MAGA crew. So it was also obvious that the Biden administration needed a strategy to head off the looming crisis. More and more, however, it looks as if there never was a strategy beyond wishful thinking.

[R]ight now I have a sick feeling about all of this. What were they thinking? How can they have been caught so off-guard by something that everyone who’s paying attention saw coming?

I am amused over this. Krugman seems to have believed Biden’s election campaign talk about being ‘progressive’ or on the ‘left’. Joe Biden was and is far from that. I for one would characterize him as a centrist with strong leanings towards the right.

The fight over the debt ceiling is arbitrary but a chance for Republicans to threaten some damage. The fear is then used to push for domestic policy concessions:

For those somehow new to this, the United States has a weird and dysfunctional system in which Congress enacts legislation that determines federal spending and revenue, but then, if this legislation leads to a budget deficit, must vote a second time to authorize borrowing to cover the deficit. If even one house of Congress refuses to raise the debt limit, the U.S. government will go into default, with possibly catastrophic financial and economic effects.

This weird aspect of budgeting allows a party that is sufficiently ruthless, sufficiently indifferent to the havoc it might wreak, to attempt to impose through extortion policies it would never be able to enact through the normal legislative process.

I do not for one moment believe that Biden is unhappy about that.

In the 1990s and early 2000s Biden supported bankruptcy reform that made it more difficult, especially for the poor, to get rid of debt:

[Biden] had pushed for two earlier bankruptcy reform bills in 2000 and 2001, both of which failed. But in 2005, BAPCPA made it through, successfully erecting all kinds of roadblocks for Americans struggling with debt, and doing so just before the financial crisis of 2008. Since BAPCPA passed, Chapter 13 filings went from representing just 24 percent of all bankruptcy filings per year to 39 percent in 2017.

Before that Biden had called for cuts to Social Security:

In 1984 he proposed freezing Social Security benefits — that is, ending cost-of-living adjustments that boost benefits to keep up with inflation. In January 1995 he gave a speech endorsing a balanced budget amendment (an utterly lunatic policy) and boasted about his previous record of proposing “that we freeze every single solitary program in the government, anything the government had to do with, every single solitary one, that we not spend a penny more, not even accounting for inflation, than we spent the year before.” In November 1995 he did so again, boasting that “I tried with Senator Grassley back in the ’80s to freeze all government spending, including Social Security, including everything.”

There are other non-progressive laws and several wars that had Biden’s support. In the current fight over the debt ceiling the Republicans demand cuts to several welfare bills. It is certainly not obvious that Biden is against those. He may well be using the debt ceiling fight to push for politics he favors but which a majority of Democrats would otherwise oppose.

Talks have been held in the White House with Senate and House majority and minority leaders. There were no serious results because the Democratic Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer held Biden back from making concessions to the Republican House speaker Kevin McCarthy:

The California Republican had vented to his colleagues just hours before the meeting that the current format of negotiations — with all four party leaders in a room with the president — wasn’t fruitful. Speaking to his conference on Tuesday morning, McCarthy said the five of them had achieved little in their first sitdown last week, arguing that Schumer had prevented Biden from fully engaging with the speaker and McConnell, according to two people familiar with his remarks. Whenever Biden did seem to agree with Republicans, McCarthy said Schumer would try to cut him off.

The talks will now continue without the Senate leadership:

Leaders agreed to narrow a bicameral negotiation down to Speaker Kevin McCarthy and Biden, hoping fewer players might be more productive in reaching a bipartisan deal to raise the debt ceiling. Even then, it looks like a longshot to some Senate Democrats.

That setting will give Biden the opportunity to make ‘concessions’ that are favored by his rich donors but opposed by a majority of people who voted for him. He will then sell those by presenting them as the only possible step to take. Maggie Thatcher’s “There is no alternative!” will again succeed.

The current due date for a debt ceiling deal is Friday:

Reflecting the growing sense of urgency, the White House announced Tuesday that the president will cut short his trip to Asia and now plans return to Washington on Sunday in order to resume negotiations with Republicans as soon as possible.Biden will depart Wednesday for a trip to Japan but will no longer make stops in Papua New Guinea and Australia before returning stateside.

There is a G-7 meeting in Japan during which Biden will press for some anti-China wording but probably without much results. The canceled Quad meeting in Australia was also to support his anti-China agenda as was the planned stop in Papua New Guinea where the U.S. navy wants extensive port rights.

For Biden’s foreign policy agenda the canceling of those dates is bad. It makes the leadership of the PNG look stupid:

PNG News & Info @PngPles – 2:08 UTC · May 17, 2023PNG declares Monday as Public Holiday in Port Moresby as US President Joe Biden makes historical visit
Link

The canceling of the visit may well be the end of the planned port agreement as the opposition in PNG will now have chance to look into the dubious and secretive deal:

The Opposition Leader, however, said the cancellation of the trip would give the opportunity for the Prime Minister to tell this country what this Defense Cooperation Treaty is all about.Mr. Lelang said information on the contents of the Defense Cooperation Treaty with the United States was sketchy, therefore, created a lot of confusion and uneasiness around the country as to what this means for us. The Opposition is calling on the Prime Minister to come out and tell the nation the details of the Defense Cooperation Treaty.

The Opposition Leader reminded the Government that we have a foreign policy of “Friends to All and Enemies to None” and PNG need to stand firm on this foreign policy position.

Mr. Lelang said we should not be blinded by the dollar sign or be coerced into signing deals that may be detrimental to us in the long run.

Meanwhile, Former Prime Minister and Ialibu Pangia MP Peter O’Neil also expressed concern that the only people who seems to know about this security pact is the former Minister for Foreign Affairs, the PM and Minister for Defense.

I am told there will be Security Agreement to be signed between US and PNG, however, that particular agreement was never made public, never debated on the floor of Parliament, never been approved by Parliament so we are all going blind and some of the reports we are getting are concerning”

From the information we gathered, the Agreement is that the pact was largely drafted by the US Government. Only a few of our own PNG Government officials and the then Minister for Foreign Affairs have seen this document and as a result has been put forward to the Prime Minister and officials to sign the agreement on the day of the visit of the US President,” Mr O’Neil said.

This reminds one of the AUKUS deal which will see Australia pay huge amounts of money for nuclear submarines it does not need. That deal was also negotiated secretly and agreed upon without any public discussion.

If the Defense Cooperation Treaty with the PNG fails the chance for a conflict with China will lessen and the world will be better off. If some people in the U.S. will lose some government support due to a debt ceiling agreement it will be bad for them.

But in total that would still be a win.

Posted by b on May 17, 2023 at 16:12 UTC | Permalink

Szijjártó: The EU Will Lose Out if it Views China as a Rival

The European Union will lose out if it views China as a rival, as it has become evident in recent years that the Far Eastern country already has a competitive advantage in many areas, Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade Péter Szijjártó said on Facebook following his meetings on Tuesday in Ningbo, China.

According to a statement by the ministry, the minister emphasised during the opening of the China-Central and Eastern Europe Trade Exhibition that China is Hungary’s strategic partner. The agreement regarding the partnership was signed in 2017, and it is not just a communication ploy, but an issue that the government takes seriously. He pointed out that China’s gross domestic product has now surpassed that of the EU. He also reminded that in 2010, China accounted for only 9 per cent of the world’s GDP, while the EU accounted for 22 per cent. However, the situation has changed for various reasons, and now the figures stand at 18 and 17 per cent respectively.

He emphasised that if the EU wants to benefit from its relationship with China, it should focus on cooperation based on mutual trust, respect, and benefits

rather than rivalry. ‘Hungary does not see China as a risk or a threat, but rather as a state with which we can gain many benefits through cooperation,’ the minister nailed down.

According to Péter Szijjártó, the Hungarian example demonstrates that much can be gained from fair cooperation, as Hungary has become the number one investment destination for Chinese companies in Central and Eastern Europe. The country has the highest number of Confucius Institutes, and most Chinese cities can be reached directly from Hungary. Furthermore, Hungary has the highest number of food export licences among the countries in the region, and following the COVID-19 pandemic, Beijing opened organised travel opportunities to Hungary, the first within the EU, he highlighted. The minister stated that there is an increasing demand for healthy food in China, and Hungary has a competitive advantage at the EU level due to its strict food safety regulations. Of the twenty-three Hungarian companies present at the exhibition, the majority represent the food industry, he noted.

The minister emphasised that the government strongly opposes the bloc formation that is taking place in the world, as this goes against the Hungarian national interest. He reiterated that Central Europe has always lost out historically when there was conflict between the East and the West.

‘Instead, we support connectivity and consider the East-West division as good news in the key sectors of the global economy.

Separation and risk reduction make no sense,’ he said.

He highlighted that Hungary is a good example in this regard, as it has become an important meeting point for Western car manufacturers and Eastern battery manufacturers who need each other. He emphasised that, apart from Germany and China, only Hungary has factories of all three major German premium car brands, and at the same time, four out of the world’s ten largest electric battery manufacturers are present in the country. He noted that the value of Hungarian trade with Zhejiang Province alone reached $1.6 billion last year, which greatly contributed to breaking the Hungarian-Chinese trade record. As a result, China has become Hungary’s number one trading partner outside of Europe.

“Most of them are dead!”- Ukraine’s army DECIMATED says Col. MacGregor | Redacted w Clayton Morris

2023 05 17 15 12
2023 05 17 15 12

The Car Rental Sales Tax Swap Scam

Car rental corporate consolidation, funded by you.

Feb 3, 2023

Not-so-fun travel fact: Every time you rent a car, you are participating in a decades-old scam that lets rental car corporations dodge a bunch of taxes and foist the cost onto renters and local taxpayers. This backdoor subsidy entrenches the dominance of the big players in what is now a very concentrated industry — but a few states are starting to fix the problem, and more should get on the same road.

Here’s what happened: Starting in the 1970s and continuing through about 2000, dominant car rental corporations such as Enterprise convinced state governments to make a kind of tax swap. In exchange for being exempted from sales taxes or other taxes applied to the purchase of a vehicle, which everyone else who buys and owns one pays, car rental corporations started levying an excise tax on each rental of 6 to as high as 14 percent, depending on the state.

These swaps — where the same piece of legislation exempted car rental corporations from the sales tax or other related purchase taxes while creating a rental excise tax — occurred in 13 states: First in Texas in 1971, then Virginia, Maine, Illinois, Colorado, Kansas, Mississippi, New Mexico, Iowa, Washington, Maryland, and South Dakota, ending in West Virginia in 2000, according to research documents I received from a smaller competitor to the dominant rental car corporations.

Many other states do the same thing in some way, either via administrative or executive order, or via different pieces of legislation that weren’t passed at the same time. The details may be different, and I’m glossing over particulars that vary state to state (for instance, in Kansas car owners pay property tax on their vehicles, which car rental corporations are exempt from), but the end result is the same.

The big car rental corporations, in short, did a very good job sweeping across the country collecting what is a massive backdoor tax subsidy on the purchase of their main business asset.

There are three issues that this rental corporation subsidy causes. The first is that the car rental corporations simply slapped the excise tax onto every customer’s bill. So they avoid the taxes every car buyer pays on the front end, in favor of one that renters pay.

The rental car corporations argue they should be exempt from sales tax because their cars are “business inputs,” as they say, or because they aren’t the actual end users of the product. But they’re perfectly free to take normal business deductions on car purchases, and they do; they just also get a very specific exemption for themselves.

The second is that states are losing a lot of revenue on this deal, as rental car corporations purchase some 2 million vehicles annually. That lost revenue totals more than $3.5 billion, according to one study, including more than $100 million dollars each in states such as New Jersey, California, Illinois, Massachusetts, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York.

That’s significant money that could get put toward state needs, but instead subsidizes the car rental industry.

Third and finally, as mentioned, the car rental industry is very consolidated, and tax subsidies entrench both its economic and political power. Currently, just three corporations — Enterprise, Hertz, and Avis — hold 95 percent of the car rental market.

You may think you’re renting from other corporations when you land at the airport or somesuch, but nope, you’re just patronizing different brands from the big three: Enterprise owns Alamo and National, Avis owns Budget, Payless and Zipcar, and Hertz owns Thrifty and Dollar, for example.

These corporations explicitly don’t want competition now that they’ve successfully consolidated, so they’ve been lobbying state legislatures to apply excise taxes to rentals at upstarts like car-sharing companies — which is all well and good, except the people who share cars on those platforms very much paid the sales taxes and registration fees that the rental car corporations avoid. So it’s “tax thee and not me,” in order to maintain the big three’s dominance.

State policymakers, though, are working to fix this issue. In Oregon, for example, the state Department of Revenue won a court case affirming that the state’s vehicle sale tax should be applied when a rental car corporation purchases a car. North Dakota also repealed the exemption from sales tax that is applied to car rental corporations. Hawaii and Georgia partially ditched their exemptions, too.

In two states at the moment — Kansas and Massachusetts — there are bills before the legislature that would eliminate the car rental corporation tax exemption. In several other states, including New Jersey, Rhode Island, and Tennessee, an administrative change could even do the trick, because the sales tax exemption was never passed by the legislature, just applied by an agency or governor.

The road here is pretty clear: Stop the backdoor subsidizing of very dominant firms in a very concentrated industry. Elected officials just need to decide to take it.

Why the U.S. Should Close Its Overseas Military Bases

A growing movement is pushing back against long-held orthodoxy, arguing that it’s time to abandon these outposts and bring the troops home.

Today, the United States has more overseas military bases than every other country combined; its estimated 750 bases spread across 80 or more countries and constitute 75 to 85 percent of the world’s total overseas military bases—likely more than any other people, nation, or empire in history. . . . 

Despite being one of the most well-entrenched orthodoxies of U.S. national security strategy, it may well be time for change. 

A growing movement argues that rather than keeping the barbarians at the gate, the gates themselves have drawn the United States into reckless and unpopular conflicts, tempting policymakers into knee-jerk military responses rather than diplomatic ones, and provoke enemies rather than deter them. 

After decades of consensus, activists, scholars, and veterans are now pushing back against what they see as a geopolitical misstep, arguing that it’s time to abandon these long-held outposts and bring the troops home. . .

here

 

Posted by: Don Bacon | May 17 2023 18:17 utc | 28

Russia and China Win Big, US Hegemony Dies w/ Garland Nixon, Dr. Wilmer Leon, Danny Haiphong, Margaret Kimberley

Such an outstanding interview!

Really worth your time!

Cayman depositors left in the cold after Silicon Valley Bank collapse

Chicken Chilaquiles

Chilaquiles is a Mexican layered dish, sometimes called “Mexican lasagna,” that makes good use of somewhat dried-out corn tortillas. Fresh corn tortillas are perfectly appropriate, however. If you’re a cheese lover, use more in this recipe.

2023 05 13 18 42
2023 05 13 18 42

Ingredients

  • 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
  • 8 (6-inch) corn tortillas (preferably stale)
  • 2 (10 ounce) cans tomatoes with green chiles (or substitute 2 1/2 cups salsa)
  • 1 (15 to 16 ounce) can black beans, drained
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)
  • 1 cup non-fat plain yogurt (or an 8-ounce container)
  • 8 to 10 ounces grated Monterey jack cheese (or more if desired)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Spray an 8- or 9-inch square baking dish (or similar casserole) with nonstick cooking spray.
  2. Heat about 1 inch of water in the bottom of a wide skillet. Bring to a boil. Add chicken breasts. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer chicken breasts for 5 minutes (the water should not be boiling, but at the barest simmer; adjust the heat if necessary). Flip and cook 4 minutes more. Remove from heat and set aside. (If the chicken should appear a tad undercooked, don’t worry, it will continue to cook in the casserole).
  3. Cut tortillas in half. Spread about 3/4 cup of the tomatoes in the bottom of the casserole. Cover the bottom with tortilla halves. Cut the chicken into small dice.
  4. Begin building layers of ingredients on top of the tortillas: Sprinkle with half the chicken, then spread on half the remaining tomatoes. Spoon on half the black beans and sprinkle with cilantro. Dollop on half the yogurt and sprinkle with half the cheese. Top with more tortilla halves.
  5. Again build layers. Start with chicken, then tomatoes, black beans and cilantro. Spoon on yogurt and top with cheese. Bake 30 minutes, or until cheese is melted and casserole is hot. Let stand 10 minutes before serving.
  6. Serve with green beans or salad.

Serves 6.

China and Zambia reveal America’s treatment to African Americans and democracy control

2023 05 13 18 26
2023 05 13 18 26

Sitrep today

Here is what the world looks like today MAY 2023.

  • Red color = The multipolar world. Led by China.
  • Blue color = Rules based world. Led by the United States.
  • Orange color = Leaning multipolar, but not fully committed.

the multipolar world may 2023
the multipolar world may 2023

No

They aren’t

They are just putting up a show of doing so

The Chinese always work in layer after layer of secrecy

Bottom line is if they display something to the world — it’s either perfected completely or its a red herring

China won’t be spending billions to close the gap with the USA. That would not be economical at all.

China is spending billions TO DEVELOP THEIR OWN VERY DIFFERENT CORE TECHNOLOGY RELATED TO PROCESSORS

You don’t understand?

Let me explain

In the mid 2000s, China sank billions into the automobile industry and everyone was saying how China would be developing its own path breaking vehicles and cutting edge IC engines

Instead for a long time it looked like China was merely copying foreign designs and their engines were pretty okay and nothing cutting edge

So they laughed and said how corrupt China was and how they were sinking billions into making ordinary engines and copycat designs of ICE cars

IN REALITY THE CHINESE WERE PUMPING THOSE BILLIONS INTO ELECTRIC VEHICLES, BATTERIES, TURBINES, SOFTWARE AND RARE EARTH PROCESSING

main qimg 480bcffbcc58f925876a3af4539b49fe
main qimg 480bcffbcc58f925876a3af4539b49fe

And today China controls everything in that area and is superior even to the US or Japan in that aspect.

China is the world leader in this area

That’s China for you

Only someone who understands the Mandarin mindset would know what they plan to do

My guess is they will keep buying chips from the greyzone and keep diverting trade orders for IC chips and they will keep investing decently in local chip manufacture. A few billion maybe. Maybe around 20% of the amount they claim.

Yet THEY WILL INVEST THE REST OF THE BIG BUCKS IN AREAS OF TECHNOLOGY where they have a head start and where the West have no core technology control

main qimg 99e359cf93a6376f808d5511ea474f81
main qimg 99e359cf93a6376f808d5511ea474f81

Like Photonic Chips, Like Graphene movement where the West is barely just ahead of China or even at the same level as that of China

Like they did with Trains, EVs, Solar Panels

China won’t spend billions just to level with the West. That’s a waste of resources

They will spend Billions to SLINGSHOT AHEAD OF THE WEST and develop their own independent core control technology

That’s the Chinese Way

Stone Temple Pilots – Interstate Love Song

DeepAi interpetation

I asked DeepAi to generate art from the song…

2023 05 13 11 45
2023 05 13 11 45

Here is what it came up with.

Stone Temple Pilots Interstate Love Song
Stone Temple Pilots Interstate Love Song

You ain’t seen nothing yet. In a decade China will double in size, in a generation it will grow 3 times its present size. And it will only stop once it’s economy is 6 times that of the USA. So the U.S. containing China is no different from some one trying to stop Lebron James from growing past 5 foot tall!

Yesterday the Chinese made your toys and sneakers. Today they make you computers and phones. Tomorrow the make your cars and jet planes. Mark my word even Chinese weapon sales will overtake the U.S. By 2050 the U.S. will be totally and absolutely destroyed by itself, India will overtake them. And the U.S. debts will hit 200 trillion dollars paying a minimum of 8 trillion a year just to service its debts if it Fong change its course.

By 2050 the entire Africa and Latin America will be filled with Chinese roads, bridges, ports, railway, high speed trains, airports and planes. And BRICS engulfed 100 nations and it will be 10 times the size for G7. If you are westerner thinking you can stop China. It’s is like you trying to stop the waves of the seas from hitting your shores.

By 2050 China will be mining the moon and having station on Mars. By 2050. China’s middle income will be at least 1.2 billion and its consumption alone will be 6 times that of the U.S. So are you sure you want to think China has hit its limit?

It is too depressing for a racist and xenophobic westerners. I spare you. Go back to sleep and think you still own the world.

Chicken a la Jerusalem

This is a recipe from the Santa Anita Racetrack in California.

2023 05 13 18 44
2023 05 13 18 44

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds chicken pieces
  • All-purpose flour
  • 1/4 pound butter
  • Salt and pepper
  • Nutmeg
  • 1/2 pound small mushrooms
  • 6 cooked artichoke hearts
  • 1/2 cup cream sherry
  • 1 cup cream or Half-and-Half
  • Mined parsley
  • Minced chives

Instructions

  1. Dredge chicken in flour.
  2. Melt butter in large skillet. Add chicken and sauté until lightly browned. Season to taste with salt, pepper and nutmeg.
  3. Wash mushrooms and pat dry. Add to chicken along with artichoke hearts. Pour sherry over all; cover, then simmer for 15 minutes, or until chicken is tender and most of the wine has evaporated.
  4. Stir in cream. Add more cream if needed to thin sauce to desired consistency. Add parsley and chives and serve at once.

Roy Buchanan – Turn to Stone (live)

Deep Ai version

I asked DeepAI to generate “artwork” based on that last video.

2023 05 13 11 40
2023 05 13 11 40

Here is what it came up with…

turn to stone
turn to stone

From his article In the Russian media preceding the meeting, Xi enthused that “China-Russia trade exceeded 190 billion U.S. dollars last year, up by 116 percent from ten years ago.”

Though it has reached 190 billion US dollars, it is no longer all being traded in US dollars. In his article in the Chinese media, Putin said that “the share of settlements in national currencies” of all that trade “is growing.” 65% of that massive China-Russia trade is now being conducting in their Russian and Chinese currencies.

Though the US sees Russia and China as the largest threats to its position in the world, it is not just America’s enemies that are fleeing the dollar. Its closest friends have hinted at it too. Following his meetings with Xi in China, French President Emmanuel Macron likely stunned and angered the US by calling for Europe to reduce its dependency on the “extraterritoriality of the US dollar.”

These calls for a flight from the US dollar are not merely economic, they are geopolitical. They are calls to reshape the world order by challenging US hegemony and advocating multipolarity. The monopoly of the dollar has not just assured US wealth: it has assured US power. Most international trade is conducted in dollars, and most foreign exchange reserves are held in dollars.

That dollar dominance has often allowed the US to dictate ideological alignment or to impose economic and political structural adjustments on other countries. It has also allowed the US to become the only country in the world that can effectively sanction its opponents. Emancipation from the hegemony of the dollar is emancipation from US hegemony. The flight from the US dollar is a mechanism for replacing the US led unipolar world with a multipolar world.

As the US has recently demonstrated in Cuba, Venezuela, Afghanistan, Iran and Russia, the monopoly of the dollar allows it to be very powerfully and quickly weaponized. Countries’ funds can be held hostage, and countries can be coerced and starved into falling in line by sanctions. Recent demonstrations of that power have awoken many countries to their own vulnerability.

US Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen recently said that “There is a risk when we use financial sanctions that are linked to the role of the dollar that over time it could undermine the hegemony of the dollar.” She explained that “Of course, it does create a desire on the part of China, of Russia, of Iran to find an alternative.”

And that’s just what it’s done. But Yellen is still missing the larger effect of US dollar warfare. It is not just China, Russia and Iran that are now seeking to escape the pressure. America’s enemies, but also its friends and everything in between, are considering taking flight from the dollar.

China and Russia are doing it. NATO ally France is calling for it for Europe. Nonaligned countries are also either talking about it or already doing it.

India is a growing economic power. And, like China, India has massively increased its trade with Russia. India and Russia have now begun discussions on a free trade agreement between India and the Russian led Eurasian Economic Commission.

The two countries are now engaged in “advanced negotiations” for a new bilateral investment treaty. Russia has expressed interest in using “national currencies and currencies of friendly countries” for trade. India, too, “has been keen on” moving toward leaving the dollar behind by “increasing the use of its rupee currency for trade with Russia.” And India has recently begun purchasing some Russian oil in Russian rubles.

US dollar hegemony has also been threatened right in America’s backyard. Brazilian ;President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has proposed ;escaping dollar control by “creat[ing] a Latin American currency.” While in China for meetings with XI, Lula asked

,

“Who decided the dollar would be the [world’s] currency?”

He then answered his own question. In March, Brazil and China escaped the US dollar by each assigning one of its banks to conduct their bilateral trade in the Brazilian real and the Chinese yuan.

Pakistan is now also trading with China in its own currency. Iran and Russia have taken flight from the dollar and are now settling trade in rials and rubles

. They recently announced that they have circumvented the US financial system by linking their banking systems as an alternative to SWIFT for trading with each other.

Saudi Arabia has said that it sees “no issues” in trading oil in currencies other than the US dollar. Robert Rabil

, Professor of political science at Florida Atlantic University, says that the United Arab Emirates, Egypt and Israel have all made some movement away from the US dollar.

The Eurasian Economic Union has agreed on “a phased transition” from settling trade in “foreign currency” to “settlements in rubles.”

Perhaps more surprisingly for the US was the decision at the March 30-31 meeting of the finance ministers and central bank governors of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) to reduce reliance on the US dollar. ASEAN is made up of Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines, Singapore, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar and Brunei.

The meeting produced a joint statement to “reinforce financial resilience . . . through the use of local currency.” But what must have been most unsettling for the US was the explanation given for the decision by Indonesian President Joko Widodo. Widodo said that the move is necessary to protect from “possible geopolitical repercussions.” What did he mean by that? “Be very careful,” he explained. “We must remember the sanctions imposed by the US on Russia.”

Yellen was right. Widodo said that US sanctions on Russia exposed just how vulnerable countries are if they rely on US dollars and US foreign payment systems. He said that using ASEAN’s Local Currency Transaction system to trade in local currencies would help address the need for Indonesia to prepare itself for the possibility that the US could similarly sanction it.

The EEU and ASEAN are not the only organizations mapping their flight from the US dollar. BRICS is a massive international organization whose primary purpose is to balance US hegemony in a new multipolar world. Comprised of Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa, it represents 41% of the world’s population. BRICS, too, is talking about conducting trade in the currencies of its members or even in a new BRICS’ currency.

Lula recently suggested that “the BRICS bank have a currency to finance trade between Brazil and China, between Brazil and other BRICS countries” so that countries are not compelled “to chase after dollars to export, when they could be exporting in their own currencies.” Russian State Duma Deputy Chairman Alexander Babakov also recently said that BRICS is working on creating its own currency.

A BRICS currency could challenge the dollar beyond the borders of BRICS. “Because each member of the BRICS grouping is an economic heavyweight in its own region, countries around the world would likely be willing to do business” in the currency, suggested a report in the Financial Post.

One such region is Africa. In July, the Russia-Africa summit will be held in St. Petersburg. Olayinka Ajala, senior lecturer in Politics and International Relations at Leeds Beckett University and the author of “The Case for Neutrality: Understanding African Stances on the Russia-Ukraine Conflict,” told me in a recent correspondence that a “main focus of Russia and China at the moment is to get African countries to support the proposed BRICS currency.”

He says that “this will be a major topic in the upcoming conference.” Ajala explains that “Africa is a consuming continent, meaning they import lots of goods and services.” He says that “with a population of over 1.2 billion, if Russia and China are able to convince African countries on the need to ditch the dollar, it will be a huge blow to the US.”

From Africa to Southeast Asia and Latin America, from Russia and China to India, Iran and Saudi Arabia, countries are mapping their course for a flight from the US dollar. As a mechanism for transition from US hegemony to a multipolar world, the economic effects would be great, but the geopolitical effects could be even greater.

Davy Knowles – Almost Cut My Hair

DeepAi version

I made a DeepAi art query.

2023 05 13 11 48
2023 05 13 11 48

Here is the result…

almost cut my hair
almost cut my hair

The most realistic cartoon.

lawson
lawson

Arrogant

She asked Xi not to unilaterally change the stability of Taiwan strait. It will not be TO THE BENEFIT of the West.

Xi lectured her:

Under ONE CHINA principle, Taiwan is part of China. Taiwan issue is the core of China’s core interests. Taiwan is China’s internal affairs & nobody should interfere. China will not compromise its sovereignty for other’s benefit. Anyone think they can interfere China’s core interest is LIVING IN A DREAM.

But I dont see many western media reporting this. No wonder westerners do not understand China.

Ignorant

1, She said EU recognizes ONE CHINA principle.

What does ONE CHINA mean? It means Taiwan is China’s internal affairs. Nobody should interfere, UN law says.

Canada complains China interfering their last democratic election. What make Canada think they can interfere with China’s matter?

2, She shouted democracy.

Democracy means there are different opinions. When Hungary refused to sanction Russia, she punished Hungary. … She is a dictator; not democratic.

3, She warned Xi not to supply military aid to Russia.

Yes, China is afraid of her “warning” from a chief who has no power over any country.

Besides, tell me why NATO can supply military aid to Ukraine?

4, On the 1st day of visit, Macron loudly told the world that EU/France cannot decouple China.

Germany, Spain & at one point Italy also said so.

Now Leyen change the word “decouple” to “de-risk” as if change make-up can change the face.

Leyen has no responsibility for the livelihood of people in any country, she can speak with no consequence.

In Ukraine war, she shouted democracy. But the empty ideology of democracy does not give people a job/income to buy food or gas to heat the home.

5, Leyen shouted freedom.

But she has given up her FREEDOM OF THOUGHT to USA. Our brain controls our speech & action. No freedom of thought = no freedom of speech etc. That is why she repeats what USA says.

Without her own thinking, that is why she has no idea what ONE CHINA, democracy or freedom means.

Davy Knowles w/Band of Friends – A Million Miles Away

President Trump 2.0 may start a full-on cold war with China

Democrats and Republicans may be divided on former leader’s stance on Ukraine conflict, but both are impeccably hostile towards Beijing

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It’s fascinating to watch Donald Trump’s “town hall” performance on CNN. The man is clearly in possession of his mental faculties, and he can walk and talk at the same time. These are clear advantages over the 80-year-old incumbent Joe Biden.

Guns for all, lower taxes, banning abortion, fielding more conservative judges at all judicial levels, drilling for oil and gas like there is no tomorrow (indeed, there may not be a tomorrow if the climate crisis really is as bad as scientists think) – Trump has offered, regardless of his own beliefs if he has any, everything a diehard Republican would want in a president. That’s why he has, at least up till now, no real rival from the Republican Party.

And if a Washington Post/ABC poll is anything to go by, he would even beat Biden by 44 to 38 per cent if a presidential election were held tomorrow.

The man may be facing dozens of lawsuits, both criminal and civil, but his followers are convinced they are all engineered by the “deep state”. They may not be entirely deluded either.

They have pointed to how the state of New York, which is overwhelmingly against Trump, passed a law that allows for a one-year window for victims of sex crimes to sue even if their cases are way past the statute of limitations.

Some conspiracy theorists have claimed that the law was passed just so someone like the writer E. Jean Carroll could come forward to successfully sue Trump for sexual abuse and defamation, even though the alleged incident took place in the mid-1990s. One way or another, the Democrats are running scared, and they should be.

One of Trump’s headline-grabbing pronouncements on CNN was that he would immediately end the war in Ukraine.

“If I were president, I would have that war settled in one day, 24 hours,” he declared. That may not sit well with Democrats and many Europeans, but he has solid support among Republican voters.

According to a new Pew Research Centre poll, only 44 per cent of Republican respondents say they have confidence in Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky to “do the right thing regarding world affairs”, compared with 71 per cent of Democrats.

The wide gulf between the two main US party voters held when respondents were asked whether they held favourable views of Ukraine in general, with 52 per cent of Republicans and 77 per cent of Democrats holding a positive view.

The Pew survey follows many recent polls showing increasing scepticism among Republican voters towards Washington’s blank-cheque support for Ukraine against Russia.

Nothing ends a proxy war faster than when foreign weapons and other military aids dry up. The United States, of course, has been the chief supplier of arms and intelligence to Ukraine. Given the unrealistic goal of Ukraine and its Western supporters to regain all lost territories, including Crimea, from Russia, Trump’s position is perfectly rational and defensible.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess who Washington will train its guns on once the crisis in Ukraine is out of the way.

As president, Trump started the economic war against China, which Biden has inherited and expanded. Under Trump’s ultra-hawkish secretary of state Mike Pompeo, his administration laid down a formal containment strategy against Beijing which he and his supporters once likened to the old cold war containment of the Soviet Union.

Despite the blatant hostilities of the Biden White House, his officials have so far refused to adopt the rhetoric of a cold war and even recently moderated the terminology of decoupling to de-risking.

Trump and his likely hardline officials will have no such inhibitions. After all, Republicans may not see eye to eye with Democrats over Ukraine; they share bipartisan hostilities towards China.

Perhaps the only wild card with President Trump 2.0 is whether he would continue with his personal disdain for traditional allies or build on Biden’s anti-China alliances.

Larry the cable guy

In a recent interview, Tokayev had such a conversation with CCTV (a national television broadcaster of China) host Wang Guan.

Host: What do you miss most about China?

Tokayev: I have been in China for almost eight years, so I miss a lot of things, Chinese food, Chinese culture, and Chinese people.

Host: You just mentioned Chinese food. What is the one Chinese food that you like the most, want to eat the most, and miss the most?

Tokayev: twice-cooked pork, Peking duck, Dandan noodles.

Host: Dandan noodles!

Tokayev: Did you know? Dandan noodles.

Host: I know that Dandan noodles are a bit spicy, aren’t they?

Tokayev: Very spicy.

Host: Can you eat spicy food?

Tokayev: I eat, I like spicy food.

Having studied and lived in China for nearly 8 years, Tokayev can speak fluent Chinese and likes to play table tennis.

main qimg c2c5b981d19557a57bf1992d91bc2697
main qimg c2c5b981d19557a57bf1992d91bc2697

On the day of his 70th birthday, Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev came to the ancient Chinese city of Xi’an to attend the China-Central Asia Summit and had a warm reception from his Chinese friends.

main qimg b8c9c0ffe32b6f662e71cb3ba05c2a0f
main qimg b8c9c0ffe32b6f662e71cb3ba05c2a0f

Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev arrives in Xi’an, northwest China’s Shaanxi Province, on May 17, 2023.

Chickaritos

2023 05 13 18 33
2023 05 13 18 33

Ingredients

  • 3 cups finely cooked chicken (or canned)
  • 1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped green onions
  • 1 1/2 cups (6 ounces) shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
  • 1 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/4 teaspoon paprika
  • 1 (17 1/4 ounce) box frozen puff pastry sheets, thawed, pie pastry for double-crust 10-inch pie or flour tortillas
  • Water
  • Salsa
  • Guacamole

Instructions

  1. In a bowl, combine chicken, chiles, onions, cheese, and seasonings. Mix well; chill until ready to use.
  2. Remove half of the pastry from the refrigerator at a time. On a lightly floured board, roll to a 9 x 12-inch rectangle. Cut into 9 small rectangles. Place about 2 tablespoons filling across the center of each rectangle. Wet edges of pastry around filling. Crimp ends with a fork to seal. Repeat with remaining pastry and filling. Place, seam side down, on a lightly greased baking sheet.
  3. Refrigerate until ready to heat.
  4. Bake at 425 degrees F for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown.
  5. Serve warm with salsa and guacamole.

Kremlin slams Macron comments over Russia’s ‘subservience’ to China

2023 05 17 14 48
2023 05 17 14 48

The Kremlin on Monday slammed comments made by French President Emmanuel Macron, who said Russia was becoming a vassal to China as a result of the conflict in Ukraine.

“We categorically disagree with this. Our relations with China have the character of a special, strategic partnership,” Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov told reporters.

Peskov said Macron’s comments reflected “an absolutely wrong understanding of what is happening.”

In an interview published Sunday, Macron said that Russia, isolated by its offensive in Ukraine, had “entered a form of subservience with regards to China.”

Macron also said Russia had already suffered a “geopolitical defeat” in the interview published by the Opinion newspaper.

China has sought to posture itself as neutral in the Ukraine offensive, but it has never condemned the Russian invasion.

Chinese leader Xi Jinping presented himself as a mediator concerned with maintaining stability when he visited Russian President Vladimir Putin in March.

The relationship between China and Russia is based on “mutual interests, benefits, close worldviews and the common rejection of any attempt to dictate” a country’s behaviors, Peskov said.

Xi has not visited Kyiv but he spoke to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy by telephone in late April, the first known phone call between the two leaders since the start of the offensive.

Chinese special envoy Li Hui is expected to arrive in Kyiv for a two-day visit on Tuesday.

He will be the highest-ranking Chinese diplomat to visit the country since Moscow launched its offensive last year.

He will also visit Russia, as well as European Union members Poland, France and Germany.

Video: U.S. PATRIOT Missile System Fires 30+ Missiles over Kiev But Gets TAKEN OUT by Russian Hit

.

2023 05 18 17 01
2023 05 18 17 01

One of the much vaunted PATRIOT missile systems given to Kiev to fight Russia, fired about thirty Air Defense missiles overnight but in the end, was hit by a Russian inbound attack. Video below shows the salvos and the final inbound Russian hit. Ukraine is actively (and desperately) trying to have the video removed!

Overnight, Russia engaged in a very thorough missile attack against Ukraine, with what appears to have been a “saturation” attack against Kiev for the express purpose of overwhelming missile defenses.

Ukraine and its supporters are furious that these videos are published. They are actively and aggressively demanding the videos be taken down “because they can identify Air Defense locations for Russia to hit.”

TwitterFurious 1
TwitterFurious 1

And more…

2023 05 18 17 02
2023 05 18 17 02

In fact, there are literally DOZENS of these brain-dead NAZI Ukraine supporters aghast that the videos are available.  Why they’re supporting a NAZI regime is beyond me, but then again they’re probably the same idiots who wore masks and got the death dart for COVID!  No one pays attention to them because they’re demonstrably stupid.

In the first video below, we can see what __may__ be a PATRIOT system, (might also be NASAMS) deployed near an apartment or other large complex, firing about thirty outbound missiles:

Doing the numbers:

I counted 30 Patriot PAC-3 MSE launches here.

The cost of these per missile in FY2024 is about $5,275,000.

That was $158,250,000 fired in about two minutes. And as we see, the battery or something else got hit and exploded. So it failed in its mission.
The cost of a Patriot battery to the U.S. military is over a billion dollars, so its destruction is a significant thing

$5,275,000 is US port cost- PER MISSILE. By the time they reach Ukraine, cost must have blown to $20 million plus.

If the Russians get the US to use 30 Patriot Missiles a day (or more), soon the US will start seriously eating into it’s stockpile of Patriot Missiles.

I am unsure of the build rate on the Patriot Missiles but I think it is safe to assume that it is nowhere close to even 150 per month (5 per day) let alone 200 a week.

Saturation Attacks so as to overwhelm a defense’s amount of ready to use ammo is already a stated potential attack option by the Chinese against our fleet assets in the Pacific. It looks like that has now become a tactic of the Russians wrt Ukraine’s air defense systems.

Be interesting to know if any Patriot Missiles were in those weapons storage areas that were blown up earlier in the week.

The Patriot system is designed to shoot down sitting ducks as they glide in on a constant trajectory.

The Kinzhal hypersonic missile approaches its target with evasive maneuvers at a speed of over Mach 10. The missile pushes a plasma-mach-wave in front of it making it invisible to radar detection. There is no missile defense system in the world (including high energy lasers) which can shoot these suckers down.

Based on the video above, scratch one Patriot battery at a cost of about $1 billion dollars.

MORE:

This is how you can tell the Ukies had a bad night….

From Ukraine Defense official Telegram account:

“ Kiev is being hit with “Kalibers”.

The head of the office of the President of Ukraine Ermak reports that the air defense is working and urges not to post videos from the sites of Russian missile strikes.

There are also reports from Kiev that the Internet, including mobile, does not work in some areas.”

More from Slavyangrad on Tele:

“ According to local sources for the Kiril Fedorov channel the explosion was at the site of a AD position in the Svyatoshinsky district of Kiev.

Apparently, ambulances have started arriving.”

I would just add that one of the performance objectives of Kinzhal / Kalibr development was specifically against patriot missile batteries.

Tonight proved that the PATRIOT is obsolete technology.

It also proved that the entire western media has been lying through its teeth along with the Pentagon.

MIM-104 Patriot missile batteries stand no chance whatsoever.

They are utterly obsolete against Kinzhal.

It seems to me that the US today has become like a deranged, deviant, LGBTQ/BLMized version of the fall of the Roman Empire’s last years.

Sounds like a punk Rock group…

Biden and the Deviants
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China-U.S. stalemate shows signs of easing

China and the United States are engaging in more high-level talks. Wang Yi, Director of the Office of the Foreign Affairs Commission of the Communist Party of China (CPC) Central Committee, and U.S. National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan had candid, in-depth, substantive and constructive discussions on bilateral ties in Vienna, Austria, on May 10-11.

Wang, also a member of the Political Bureau of the CPC Central Committee, and Sullivan held discussions on removing obstacles in the Sino-American relationship and keeping bilateral ties from deteriorating.

Earlier, Chinese State Councilor and Foreign Minister Qin Gang met with U.S. Ambassador to China Nicholas Burns in Beijing on May 8. It was the first time Burns had met China’s top diplomat since he took office in April 2022.

China-U.S. relations are of great significance not only to the two countries but to the world, Qin, who succeeded the posts previously held by Wang in March, told Burns. President Xi Jinping and U.S. President Joe Biden reached an important consensus during their meeting in Bali, Indonesia, last November [ahead of the Group of 20 Summit there]. “However, a series of erroneous words and deeds from the American side since has undermined the hard-won positive momentum in the Sino-American relationship, disrupted the planned dialogue and cooperation agenda and chilled bilateral relations again,” he said.

The top priority is to stabilize China-U.S. relations, avoid a downward spiral and prevent misunderstandings between China and the U.S., according to Qin. He stressed this should be the basic consensus between the two countries, adding the U.S. should work with China to get the ties back on track.

2023 05 18 12 40
2023 05 18 12 40

Good timing

On May 8, Burns tweeted that he and Qin had “discussed challenges in the U.S.-China relationship and the necessity of stabilizing ties and expanding high-level communication.”

The meeting happened after Burns on May 2 had said “the U.S. is ready to talk” as he virtually joined an event organized by the Stimson Center, a think tank in Washington, D.C., according to NBC News.

“The U.S. relationship with China remains complicated and competitive, but Washington does not seek conflict with Beijing and believes more dialogue would be constructive,” the ambassador added.

Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Wang Wenbin said on May 8 that the Qin-Burns meeting was a normal diplomatic arrangement as he answered a question about the timing and signals of this encounter.

“The meeting is a positive sign. I believe Burns had been waiting for this conversation and it finally happened, indicating the stalemate between China and the U.S. is beginning to dissolve,” Wu Xinbo, Dean of the Institute of International Studies and Director at the Center for American Studies at Fudan University in Shanghai, told Beijing Review. “But it’s just a beginning.”

China halted cooperation with the U.S. on security, climate change and other areas as countermeasures following the visit to China’s Taiwan region by then Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi last August, which constituted a serious violation of the one-China principle and infringed upon China’s sovereignty and territorial integrity. Despite China later resuming talks, the U.S. hyping up the “wandering balloon” incident led to new tensions. In late January, a Chinese balloon was spotted over North American airspace. The U.S. claimed it was a “spy balloon” and shot it down on February 4, collecting the debris, while China reiterated it was a meteorological balloon and the unintentional entry into American airspace was due to force majeure. The worsening situation resulted in the U.S. postponement of Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s trip to China scheduled for early February.

“Qin’s meeting with Burns shows that the level of diplomatic contact has been raised; it also implies that a meeting between the foreign ministers of the two countries may be on the agenda,” Lu Xiang, a research fellow with the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, told Chinese newspaper Global Times on May 8.

In recent weeks, senior U.S. officials have hinted at a re-engagement with China, calling for healthy and constructive relations. Blinken told The Washington Post on May 3 that it’s important to re-establish regular lines of communication at all levels and across the government. U.S. climate envoy John Kerry said the same day that China had invited him to visit the country in the near term for talks on averting a global climate change crisis, Reuters News Agency reported.

Burns has undertaken recent travels to Guangzhou, capital of Guangdong Province, Shanghai and Tianjin to engage in direct dialogue with individuals from a range of sectors, including government officials and representatives from esteemed universities.

Action speaks louder

In his meeting with Burns, Qin further stated “the U.S. should not talk about communication while continuously trying to suppress and contain China.”

He emphasized the U.S. must respect China’s red lines and stop damaging China’s sovereignty, security and development interests. In particular, the U.S. must “correctly handle the Taiwan question, stop hollowing out the one-China principle and stop supporting and conniving at ‘Taiwan independence’ separatist forces.”

“Qin’s message was clear: China is open to engaging in dialogue to resolve differences, but any dialogue must have a clear purpose and not merely be for the sake of talking. Dialogue cannot be used to justify actions that harm China’s interests and the U.S. must demonstrate its commitment to improving bilateral relations through tangible actions,” Lu said.

The U.S. officially rejects “Taiwan independence” but at the same time sends military contractors to the region; this is inconsistent, according to the research fellow.

A delegation of U.S. defense contractors attended a “defense industry forum” in Taipei on May 3. Head of the delegation, retired Lieutenant General Steven Rudder, who once oversaw U.S. Marine Corps operations in the Pacific, said in his speech that U.S. defense contractors “want to be part of the self-defense capabilities of Taiwan.”

Two days later Reuters reported the Biden administration planned to send $500 million worth of “weapons aid” to Taiwan using the same emergency authority that has been used more than 35 times for Ukraine.

Wu pointed out although the Biden administration has exhibited a willingness to talk and work with China, its strategy inherited from former President Donald Trump still considers China a major competitor instead of both a rival and partner. “That’s the root cause of the worsening China-U.S. relations,” he explained.

“To ameliorate bilateral relations, the U.S. must change how it perceives China on a handful of issues, including the Taiwan question and technological blockade,” Wu said. “America’s current China policy, which claims rivalry, competition and cooperation coexist, is self-confrontational because there’s no clear line between the three. You cannot request cooperation when you contain China in the name of competition, and you cannot avoid conflict when you cross China’s red lines. That’s wishful thinking on the part of the U.S.”

University Distinguished Service Professor, Emeritus and former Dean of Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government Joseph Nye also raised his concerns over the conditions of China-U.S. relations. “I’m afraid that, as I said, it’s a cooperative rivalry, but there’s too much emphasis on the rivalry and not enough on the cooperation,” he said at a book launch hosted by the Center for China and Globalization in Beijing on April 28.

He believes no country could pose an existential threat to the other unless the two blunder into a protracted conflict, similar to the situation in Europe in 1914 when great powers thought they could have a short, sharp war but ended up with a four-year war that killed over 10 million people and destroyed four empires.

“To get this [Sino-American] cooperation going, we’ll have more meetings like the one Xi and Biden had in Bali, but it’s going to have to become a more regular thing, not just the occasional event,” he added.

America is in need of Mental health, 40 yr old man identifies as this.

2023 05 13 18 51
2023 05 13 18 51

President of ASML: China’s self-developed lithography machine is destroying the global chip industry chain. Are you afraid?

2023-05-17 11:46

 

On March 28, Vinnink, President of ASML, visited China in a low-key trip. Not long after ASML officially restricted the sale of lithography machines below 14 nanometers to China, Wennink’s visit to China may be a curiosity about the Chinese market, or an investigation of the current state of China’s technology.

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2023 05 17 14 46

But it can all be summed up in one sentence. The reason for visiting China is that ASML and Wennink still have nostalgia for the Chinese market. According to reports, after meeting with Wang Wentao, Minister of Commerce of China, the two sides conducted in-depth exchanges on ASML’s development in China.

However, the words that Wen Ningke said in person afterward caused chills in many Chinese people. In Wennink’s view, if China develops its own lithography machine, it will destroy the global chip industry chain.

This sentence is funny, as if China develops its own technology, it has already stood on the opposite side of the world.

 

Wennink’s visit to China

ASML, which was born in the Netherlands, is the world’s largest lithography machine manufacturer and the only company in the world that can produce EUV lithography machines. The title of “King of Chips” is not intrusive on them. With a share of more than 60% in the global lithography machine market, ASML is worthy of this title, not to mention the market share of EUV technology. It has exceeded 95%.

 

Originally, ASML’s technology and the Chinese market formed a win-win relationship of mutual nourishment. However, due to the suppression of China’s technology by the United States, ASML was forced to agree to the decision of the United States and banned the sale of many products exported to China. . It also includes the most advanced deposition equipment and immersion photolithography system in the world.

With ASML’s ban on sales to China, the company’s order market has shrunk rapidly. After all, China is ASML’s third largest market in the world by sales, with sales of nearly 2.7 billion euros, no matter who it is, it is hard for anyone to give up. So Wen Ningke finally started his trip to China after all kinds of entanglements.

 

After the talks between Wenninger and Chinese Minister of Commerce Wang Wentao, both sides received the confidence of the other party in Sino-Dutch economic and trade. Wang Wentao also said that he would maintain the stability of the global semiconductor industry chain and supply chain. For those goods affected by export controls, ASML said that it will take some time for these controls to be legislated and take effect.

In addition, from 2019 to now, ASML has strong confidence in Sino-Dutch trade. We have reason to believe that the arrival of Wennink is a performance of ASML’s gratitude. After all, the huge Chinese market has allowed one-third of ASML’s revenue to be shouldered in the past two years.

 

Since it is seeking peace, why provoke?

But when Wen Nink was interviewed, he said that if China wants to develop its own lithography machine, it is a “destructive behavior” that will cause impact and chaos to the global chip industry chain. Among Chinese companies, the one that left an important impression on Wenningke is “Huawei”.

 

In Wennink’s view, Huawei’s strength is unquestionable, but if Huawei wants to make its own chips, it needs to have its own lithography machine. But in Wennink’s view, doing so will disrupt the balance of the global supply chain.

Some people think that this is Wennink trying to save his respect for his visit to China, while others think that this is an excuse for the United States to restrict the sale of lithography machines. However, the premise of these conjectures is that Wenningke has no intention of the Chinese market.

 

This obviously does not match the purpose of his visit to China. So the most likely thing is Wennink’s fear of the rapid development of Chinese technology.

ASML originally planned to increase the production capacity of EUV lithography machines to 90 units and DUV lithography machines to 600 units in the next three years. In the case of ever-increasing production capacity, China’s stable and huge but limited market has become the largest digester of ASML’s output.

 

But once China’s technology matures and it has the ability to make its own lithography machines, “Made in China” will be a terrifying existence in the world.

 

Chinese technology development

On the other hand, Wennink’s timidity and fear are not unfounded worries. After all, since the second half of 2022, China has been continuously “applying eye drops” to ASML. For example, last year, Chinese companies expected to bid for 27 lithography machines, and Japanese lithography machine companies contracted 21 sets of large orders, and the remaining 6 sets were taken over by domestic lithography machine companies.

 

Behind the failure of ASML is the maturing of Chinese technology.

Coupled with the mass-produced 28nm lithography machine in China, the problem of immersion technology has been solved, and the difficulty of subsequent technology development should be greatly reduced. Moreover, in recent years, China has attracted many technical talents from its own “Taiwan Province”, and has also injected fresh and powerful blood into the development of China’s lithography machine technology.

 

Whether it is a country or an enterprise, the premise of existence and communication is to put profits first. China’s current research and development is progressing smoothly. If China’s technology progresses, it will really be a kind of “destruction”. Then face the destruction, after all, if the old doesn’t go, the new won’t come. Starting with China’s continuous development, destroying and rebuilding always leads to a better future.

The American Dream Is Dead

2023 05 13 18 54
2023 05 13 18 54

Don’t Make Workers Eat the Kroger-Albertsons Merger

How mergers push wages down, and what to do about it.
May 16, 2023

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Back in October, Kroger and Albertsons, two of the biggest supermarket chain corporations in the U.S., announced they intend to merge. If allowed, the merger would bring a host of brands, including Safeway, Shaws, and Harris-Teeter, under the umbrella of one grocery behemoth. It would be the largest merger in retail grocer history, and so has rightfully drawn antitrust scrutiny from Congress, the Federal Trade Commission, and several state attorneys general, as well as a private antitrust action on behalf of grocery buyers.

One of the concerns raised, of course, is that the merger will result in higher prices, as the new grocery giant monopolizes local markets, which has particular salience in a moment of higher than normal food inflation. But another concern is that the merger will specifically harm workers, as the newly-merged entity will have significant power over labor markets too, giving it the ability to push down wages, not just for those who work at Kroger or Albertson’s owned stores, but across the industry.

Justifying those concerns, a recently released study from the Economic Policy Institute shows that workers across the grocery sector would lose more than $330 million annually should the merger be allowed to proceed. Here are the specifics:

  • The merger will lower wages for 746,000 grocery store workers in over 50 metropolitan areas of the U.S. […]
  • The total annual earnings of grocery store workers will fall by $334 million in affected metropolitan areas;
  • Because Kroger and Albertsons employ about one quarter of all grocery store employees, most of the wage losses caused by the merger will be a negative externality that falls on grocery store workers employed by other firms. On average, all grocery workers in affected markets will lose about $450 per year in wage income;

This drop in wages is a result of labor market power (or monopsony or buyer power, if you want to get fancy). When there are fewer employers, those that remain have more leverage to keep wages low because workers can’t credibly threaten to leave for a competitor, or actually leave, in order to raise their pay or improve their working conditions.

And this power would clearly be exacerbated by a Kroger-Albertsons merger, since the two corporations have significant overlap in their store footprints. To be exact, about half of Albertsons 2,270 stores are within three miles of a Krogers store, which would give the merged entity a lot of incentive to shut stores down and consolidate both consumer and labor markets.

The overlap is magnified especially in some localities, since grocery buying is typically an intensely local activity. For instance, in Chicago, 55 Kroger stores and 102 Albertsons stores are within three miles of each other. A similar situation exists in a host of other cities, including Los Angeles, Phoenix, and Seattle.

It seems pretty clear, then, both anecdotally and quantitatively, that workers would get left picking up crumbs should the merger go through.

The analysis being done around how a Kroger-Albertsons merger would push down pay fits into a broader investigation of employer power and a search for affirmative solutions, including the Treasury Department report I’ve pointed to a few times, which found that “a careful review of credible academic studies places the decrease in wages at roughly 20 percent relative to the level in a fully competitive market.”

Other work has looked at the effects large corporations such as Amazon or Walmart have had on labor markets, and they consistently find wages going one direction: Down. And labor markets with higher levels of concentration see more wage cuts and labor law violations. It’s all bad news.

Antitrust would be the traditional remedy for this sort of corporate power, but in recent decades enforcers have largely let buyer-side antitrust cases fall completely by the wayside. The only recent notable case in the space was the successful effort to stop two large book publishers from merging, on the grounds that it would drive down compensation paid to authors.

Instead, enforcers have resorted to janky agreements in which the merging entities sell off some of their facilities to competitors, in theory fostering an overall more competitive environment, despite the merger. Kroger claims it is cooking up just such a deal now to appease enforcers. But there’s a history of such deals resulting in complete failure.

In fact, in 2015, Albertsons sold off 168 stores across eight western states to grease the skids for its acquisition of Safeway. But the buyer of the bulk of those stores couldn’t handle such a rapid expansion, and ended up filing for bankruptcy and selling off 100 of its stores, 33 of which were bought back by Albertsons at fire-sale prices. So a bunch of small towns and cities that were supposed to avoid winding up with a monopolized grocery market received exactly that.

Legislation was introduced this legislative session in several states, including New York, New Jersey, Minnesota, and Pennsylvania, that would bolster the ability of state antitrust enforcers to bring cases on behalf of workers, explicitly, by inserting into law that protecting wages and working conditions is a clear-cut goal of antitrust law. A separate Minnesota bill that has already passed the state House also includes such language around hospital mergers, with explicit protections for health care workers, who are especially susceptible to monopoly power as large health care systems consolidate.

But that’s the legislative long game. In the short-term, enforcers should block the Kroger-Albertsons merger so workers don’t have to eat it on another consolidation play that helps no one but the folks in suits sitting in corners offices.

Central Asia is located in the heart of the Eurasian continent and is a strategic channel connecting the East and the West. The five Central Asian countries – Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan – are China’s western neighbors. Over 2,000 years ago, the ancient Silk Road passed through Central Asia, serving as an important trade route connecting China with neighboring countries and Europe. In modern times, China has established strategic partnerships with the five Central Asian countries and deepened cooperation and exchanges. The five Central Asian countries are not only important energy suppliers to China but also cooperate with China on security to combat extremist and separatist forces and maintain regional stability.

main qimg fe013e1dd28fb1b2aabbd189bf6ce30f
main qimg fe013e1dd28fb1b2aabbd189bf6ce30f

This year (2023) marks the 31st anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between China and the five Central Asian countries. Over the past 31 years, China’s relations with Central Asian countries have continuously improved and upgraded, achieving leapfrog development. The upcoming China-Central Asia Summit will open a new chapter in China-Central Asia relations.

Taking economic and trade cooperation as an example, in the 31 years since the establishment of diplomatic relations, the trade volume between China and the five Central Asian countries has increased by over 100 times. In 2022, the bilateral trade volume reached a historic high of 70.2 billion US dollars, with China’s imports of agricultural, energy, and mineral products from Central Asian countries increasing by over 50% year-on-year, and its exports of electromechanical products to Central Asian countries increasing by 42% year-on-year. From January to March this year, the trade volume between China and the five Central Asian countries increased by 22% year-on-year. China will work with the economic and trade departments of Central Asian countries to consolidate and develop the good momentum of trade and investment, and promote the further development of China-Central Asia economic and trade cooperation with the China-Central Asia Summit as an opportunity.

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2023 05 18 16 44

2023 also marks the 10th anniversary of the Belt and Road Initiative. With the joint efforts of China and the leaders of the five Central Asian countries, the high-quality development of the Belt and Road Initiative in Central Asia is promising. In the future, China-Central Asia Belt and Road cooperation can be expanded to new areas such as digital economy, artificial intelligence, green energy, and poverty reduction.

China Cancels 129.1B Chip Orders, Deals $1.5T Blow to US Chip Giants, SMIC Emerges Victorious.

According to customs data, in the first quarter of 2023, the domestic import of chips was 108.2 billion, a decrease of 32.1 billion from the previous year.

Coupled with the cumulative reduction of 97 billion in 2022, the total is 129.1 billion.

Some foreign media have pointed out: “SMIC is the big winner!”

Since the second quarter of 2021, China has begun to reduce the import of chips.

In the first quarter of 2022, the import of chips decreased by 21%.

This trend directly affected the chip industry in the United States and TSMC. After losing the Chinese market, US companies face huge economic losses and can only maintain normal operations through layoffs.

China is one of the largest chip procurement countries in the world, consuming over 70% of global chip shares.

Reducing chip imports affects the production and exports of US chip manufacturers, leading to a significant compression of the US chip manufacturers’ market share and profit.

For TSMC, although the reduction in Chinese imports will not directly affect its business, if the chip purchases of other countries also decrease, it will lead to a reduction in the global chip market supply, which will in turn affect TSMC’s customer demand and revenue.

If the United States continues to take export control measures against China, TSMC’s days are also destined to be difficult.

https://youtu.be/4ARlrhxUhNE

To be blunt, as an American citizen, IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

The thing between the mainland and Taiwan is an internal matter, and has nothing to do with anyone else.

It’s just different political views, THATS IT.

Originally it was between the CPC and the KMT, but now the DPP has emerged in Taiwan and they are the ones that want to split from the mainland, and of course the mainland is not going to let that happen.

Taiwan is a part of China and that’s the end of it.

Don’t worry, I cannot see the US being that stupid as to start a war, over an island that’s none of their business.

But then the US has done just that many times before, only this time their taking on a country that’s every bit as good as they are.

And there is no way they will get away scott-free this time.

THIS time they will see their own cities flattened as Hell.

Surely that must be enough deterrent.

US Empire of Debt Headed for Collapse

Prof. Michael Hudson’s new book, The Collapse of Antiquity: Greece and Rome as Civilization’s Oligarchic Turning Point is a seminal event in this Year of Living Dangerously when, to paraphrase Gramsci, the old geopolitical and geoeconomic order is dying and the new one is being born at breakneck speed.

Prof. Hudson’s main thesis is absolutely devastating: he sets out to prove that economic/financial practices in Ancient Greece and Rome – the pillars of Western Civilization – set the stage for what is happening today right in front of our eyes: an empire reduced to a rentier economy, collapsing from within.

And that brings us to the common denominator in every single Western financial system: it’s all about debt, inevitably growing by compound interest.

Ay, there’s the rub: before Greece and Rome, we had nearly 3,000 years of civilizations across West Asia doing exactly the opposite.

These kingdoms all knew about the importance of canceling debts.

Otherwise their subjects would fall into bondage; lose their land to a bunch of foreclosing creditors; and these would usually try to overthrow the ruling power.

Aristotle succinctly framed it:

“Under democracy, creditors begin to make loans and the debtors can’t pay and the creditors get more and more money, and they end up turning a democracy into an oligarchy, and then the oligarchy makes itself hereditary, and you have an aristocracy.”

Prof. Hudson sharply explains what happens when creditors take over and “reduce all the rest of the economy to bondage”: it’s what’s called today “austerity” or “debt deflation”.

So “what’s happening in the banking crisis today is that debts grow faster than the economy can pay. And so when the interest rates finally began to be raised by the Federal Reserve, this caused a crisis for the banks.”

Prof. Hudson also proposes an expanded formulation:

“The emergence of financial and landholding oligarchies made debt peonage and bondage permanent, supported by a pro-creditor legal and social philosophy that distinguishes Western civilization from what went before. Today it would be called neoliberalism.”

Then he sets out to explain, in excruciating detail, how this state of affairs was solidified in Antiquity in the course of over 5 centuries. One can hear the contemporary echoes of “violent suppression of popular revolts” and “targeted assassination of leaders” seeking to cancel debts and “redistribute land to smallholders who have lost it to large landowners”.

The verdict is merciless:

“What impoverished the population of the Roman Empire” bequeathed a “creditor-based body of legal principles to the modern world”.

Predatory oligarchies and “Oriental Despotism”

Prof Hudson develops a devastating critique of the “social darwinist philosophy of economic determinism”: a “self-congratulatory perspective” has led to “today’s institutions of individualism and security of credit and property contracts (favoring creditor claims over debtors, and landlord rights over those of tenants) being traced back to classical antiquity as “positive evolutionary developments, moving civilization away from ‘Oriental Despotism’”.

All that is a myth.

Reality was a completely different story, with Rome’s extremely predatory oligarchies waging “five centuries of war to deprive populations of liberty, blocking popular opposition to harsh pro-creditor laws and the monopolization of the land into latifundia estates”.

So Rome in fact behaved very much like a “failed state”, with “generals, governors, tax collectors, moneylenders and carpet beggars” squeezing out silver and gold “in the form of military loot, tribute and usury from Asia Minor, Greece and Egypt.”

And yet this Roman wasteland approach has been lavishly depicted in the modern West as bringing a French-style mission civilisatrice to the barbarians – while carrying the proverbial white man’s burden.

Prof. Hudson shows how Greek and Roman economies actually “ended in austerity and collapsed after having privatized credit and land in the hands of rentier oligarchies”. Does that ring a – contemporary – bell?

Arguably the central nexus of his argument is here:

“Rome’s law of contracts established the fundamental principle of Western legal philosophy giving creditor claims priority over the property of debtors – euphemized today as ‘security of property rights’. 

Public expenditure on social welfare was minimized – what today’s political ideology calls leaving matters to ‘the market’. 

It was a market that kept citizens of Rome and its Empire dependent for basic needs on wealthy patrons and moneylenders – and for bread and circuses, on the public dole and on games paid for by political candidates, who often themselves borrowed from wealthy oligarchs to finance their campaigns.” 

Any similarity with the current system led by the Hegemon is not mere coincidence. Hudson:

“These pro-rentier ideas, policies and principles are those that today’s Westernized world is following. That is what makes Roman history so relevant to today’s economies suffering similar economic and political strains.”

Prof. Hudson reminds us that Rome’s own historians – Livy, Sallust, Appian, Plutarch, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, among others – “emphasized the subjugation of citizens to debt bondage”.

Even the Delphic Oracle in Greece, as well as poets and philosophers, warned against creditor greed. Socrates and the Stoics warned that “wealth addiction and its money-love was the major threat to social harmony and hence to society.”

And that brings us to how this criticism was completely expunged from Western historiography. “Very few classicists”, Hudson notes, follow Rome’s own historians describing how these debt struggles and land grabs were “mainly responsible for the Republic’s Decline and Fall.”

Hudson also reminds us that the barbarians were always at the gate of the Empire: Rome, in fact, was “weakened from within”, by “century after century of oligarchic excess.”

So this is the lesson we should all draw from Greece and Rome: creditor oligarchies “seek to monopolize income and land in predatory ways and bring prosperity and growth to a halt.”

Plutarch was already into it:

“The greed of creditors brings neither enjoyment nor profit to them, and ruins those whom they wrong. They do not till the fields which they take from their debtors, nor do they live in their houses after evicting them.”

Beware of pleonexia

It would be impossible to fully examine so many precious as jade offerings constantly enriching the main narrative. Here are just a few nuggets (And there will be more: Prof. Hudson told me, “I’m working on the sequel now, picking up with the Crusades.”)

Prof. Hudson reminds us how money matters, debt and interest came to the Aegean and Mediterranean from West Asia, by traders from Syria and the Levant, around 8th century B.C. But “with no tradition of debt cancellation and land redistribution to restrain personal wealth seeking, Greek and Italian chieftains, warlords and what some classicists have called mafiosi [ by the way, Northern European scholars, not Italians) imposed absentee land ownership over dependent labor.”

This economic polarization kept constantly worsening. Solon did cancel debts in Athens in the late 6th century – but there was no land redistribution. Athens’ monetary reserves came mainly from silver mines – which built the navy that defeated the Persians at Salamis. Pericles may have boosted democracy, but the eventful defeat facing Sparta in the Peloponnesian War (431-404 B.C.) opened the gates to a heavy debt-addicted oligarchy.

All of us who studied Plato and Aristotle in college may remember how they framed the whole problem in the context of pleonexia (“wealth addiction”) – which inevitably leads to predatory and “socially injurious” practices. In Plato’s Republic, Socrates proposes that only non-wealthy managers should be appointed to govern society – so they would not be hostages of hubris and greed.

The problem with Rome is that no written narratives survived. The standard stories were written only after the Republic had collapsed. The Second Punic War against Carthage (218-201 B.C.) is particularly intriguing, considering its contemporary Pentagon overtones: Prof. Hudson reminds us how military contractors engaged in large-scale fraud and fiercely blocked the Senate from prosecuting them.

Prof. Hudson shows how that “also became an occasion for endowing the wealthiest families with public land when the Rome state treated their ostensibly patriotic donations of jewelry and money to aid the war effort as retroactive public debts subject to repayment”.

After Rome defeated Carthage, the glitzy set wanted their money back. But the only asset left to the state was land in Campania, south of Rome. The wealthy families lobbied the Senate and gobbled up the whole lot.

With Caesar, that was the last chance for the working classes to get a fair deal. In the first half of the 1st century B.C. he did sponsor a bankruptcy law, writing down debts. But there was no widespread debt cancellation. Caesar being so moderate did not prevent the Senate oligarchs from whacking him, “fearing that he might use his popularity to ‘seek kingship’” and go for way more popular reforms.

After Octavian’s triumph and his designation by the Senate as Princeps and Augustus in 27 B.C., the Senate became just a ceremonial elite. Prof Hudson summarizes it in one sentence: “The Western Empire fell apart when there was no more land for the taking and no more monetary bullion to loot.” Once again, one should feel free to draw parallels with the current plight of the Hegemon.

Time to “uplift all labor”

In one of our immensely engaging email exchanges, Prof. Hudson remarked how he “immediately had a thought” on a parallel to 1848. I wrote in the Russian business paper Vedomosti: “After all, that turned out to be a limited bourgeois revolution. It was against the rentier landlord class and bankers – but was as yet a far cry from being pro-labor. The great revolutionary act of industrial capitalism was indeed to free economies from the feudal legacy of absentee landlordship and predatory banking — but it too fell back as the rentier classes made a comeback under finance capitalism.”

And that brings us to what he considers “the great test for today’s split”: “Whether it is merely for countries to free themselves from US/NATO control of their natural resources and infrastructure — which can be done by taxing natural-resource rent (thereby taxing away the capital flight by foreign investors who have privatized their natural resources). The great test will be whether countries in the new Global Majority will seek to uplift all labor, as China’s socialism is aiming to do.”

It’s no wonder “socialism with Chinese characteristics” spooks the Hegemon creditor oligarchy to the point they are even risking a Hot War. What’s certain is that the road to Sovereignty, across the Global South, will have to be revolutionary: “Independence from U.S. control is the Westphalian reforms of 1648 — the doctrine of non-interference in the affairs of other states. A rent tax is a key element of independence — the 1848 tax reforms. How soon will the modern 1917 take place?”

Let Plato and Aristotle weigh in: as soon as humanly possible.

Chip giant Qualcomm reported to secretly collect, transmit user data

Frightening.  Pertains to 90% of all American / Western cell-phones.

CGTN

17-May-2023
Chip giant Qualcomm reported to secretly collect, transmit user data
Smartphones with Qualcomm chips were found to send private user information, including IP address, unique ID, mobile country code, back to the U.S. chipmaker, according to a report by the German security company Nitrokey first released on April 25.
Such personal information was sent “without user consent, unencrypted, and even when using a Google-free Android distribution,” said the report.
Nitrokey tested with a Sony Xperia XA2 smartphone which was equipped with a Qualcomm Snapdragon 630 chip and installed /e/OS, an open-source version of Android free of Google services.
No SIM-card was inserted in the phone, nor was the GPS location service turned on. The device can only access the internet through WiFi.
The company monitored the data with Wireshark, a network traffic software, and found that the data will be transmitted to izatcloud.net server, which attributes to Qualcomm.
The report said the data packages were “sent via the HTTP protocol and are not encrypted using HTTPS, SSL or TLS,” making them vulnerable to attacks as anyone accessible to the network “can easily spy on us by collecting this data, store them, and establish a record history using the phone’s unique ID and serial number Qualcomm is sending over to their mysteriously called Izat Cloud.”
It added that the data sharing with Qualcomm is not mentioned in the terms of service from Sony or Android or /e/OS, which violated the General Data Protection Regulation.
While a Sony smartphone was used, Nitrokey said “many more Android phones” with popular Qualcomm chips such as Fairphone are likely to be affected.
Qualcomm’s response
The chipmaker reacted in a statement sent to Nitrokey that the data sharing was in accordance with its XTRA Service Privacy Policy.
“Through these software applications, we may collect location data, unique identifiers (such as a chipset serial number or international subscriber ID), data about the applications installed and/or running on the device, configuration data such as the make, model, and wireless carrier, the operating system and version data, software build data, and data about the performance of the device such as performance of the chipset, battery use, and thermal data,” said the statement.
In its statement sent to cybernews.com, Qualcomm called the Nitrokey report “riddled with inaccuracies and appears to be motivated by the author’s desire to sell his product,” and noted that it only collects personal data permitted by applicable law.
Nitrokey said the chipmaker, however, didn’t mention IP addresses were being collected originally, but added IP addresses into its data collection list after the research was completed.
‘Not a backdoor’
The report triggered heated discussion after release.
A Reddit post said that Nitrokey proves a backdoor by Qualcomm chips, which the security firm denied, saying it did not discover a backdoor, and “this is not a backdoor.”
British tech news website The Register said that the Izat Cloud, part of Qualcomm’s XTRA service, is “basically a way to make GPS more precise and reliable while reducing use of energy-intensive radio hardware.”
It cited a source familiar with Qualcomm technology saying that all chipmakers “are going to have all kinds of different fetches that they’re going to make [over the network].”
While on the other hand, The Register cautioned that data transmission on mobile device can cause problems in high-risk environments in that “network identifiers such as IP addresses can be considered personal data, particularly when paired with hardware identifiers or other sorts of data. “
Martijn Braam, an IT expert said in his critique titled “Nitrokey disappoints me” that what’s in the HTTP traffic “does not contain any private data” but just downloads an GPS almanac from Qualcomm for A-GPS, which is to “make getting a GPS fix quicker and more reliable.”
Also, “The thing that gets leaked is your IP address which is required because that’s how you connect to things on the internet. This system does not actually send any of your private information like the title of the article claims,” Braam said.
He added the feature “happens in practically all devices that have both GPS and internet,” and also called the Nitrokey article a marketing piece for selling their own phones.

Everyone do not freak out. Things are progressing forward. Its just that the psychopathic leadership doesn’t know it yet.

The “news” still continues it’s march for war buildups. The “leadership class” believe (erroneously), that all is in hand. But they are wrong. Very wrong. Their “misfortunes” in Russia, and the rest of the world, imply bigger systemic issues that are growing into large mountains that will eventually capsize their pleasure cruse.

Don’t get too caught up.

Life is good, and getting better. But you all cannot control the rest of the world from jumping off a cliff. Just don’t follow them.

Shortly after a British Airways flight had reached its cruising altitude, the captain announced:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain. Welcome to Flight 293, non-stop from London Heathrow to New York. The weather ahead is good, so we should have an uneventful flight. So, sit back, relax, and… OH…MY GOD!”

Silence followed complete silence!

Some moments later, the captain came back on the intercom.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m sorry if I scared you. While I was talking to you, a flight attendant accidentally spilled coffee on my lap. You should see the front of my pants!”

From the back of the plane, a passenger yelled “For the luvva Jaysus, you should see the back of mine!”

When I was an ENT resident, I had a patient named Alvin who had been treated multiple times for an oral cancer. What happened on a visit after a biopsy stays with me today. At that time I wrote an article about it. Kind of a long answer to your question,, but I think worthwhile:

Alvin lay on the gurney, oblivious to the huff of the respirator forcing oxygen into his lungs. Pulling the surgical mask from my face, I reached for his pulse and checked his pupillary reflexes, matching the physical input against the digital readouts on the recovery room monitor. Everything looked good except that Alvin was going to live.

Alvin, a master woodworker, had cancer. At least, he’d had it before. Four years ago a small sore on the floor of his mouth proved positive for squamous cell carcinoma. Chemotherapy, radiation and three mutilating surgeries over as many years battered the disease to a standstill.

Throughout his ordeal, Alvin was indomitable. His face disfigured by the loss of half of his lower jaw, skin burned leathery by radiation, he saw no reason to complain let alone despair. Although he couldn’t smile, he never failed to joke with the nurses and talk about the mountain cabin where he planned to retire.

When Alvin presented for his checkup, there was another lump. My heart sank. He’d had all the drug and x-ray treatments his body could tolerate. Another surgery was out of the question.

“I don’t know about this, Alvin,” I said. “I think we’d better biopsy it.”

With a voice made raspy by his treatments, he said, “Sure, Doc. No problem.”

A week after the biopsy, Alvin bounced into my office after a wave and a wink to the receptionist.

He plunked himself in front of my desk, eyes still bright but unaccompanied by the usual deep laugh lines. He unshouldered a Woodworker’s Supply tote bag and set it beside the chair. “So what’s up, Doc?” he said.

The damning pathology report lay on my desk like a sheet of lead. My voice broke on his name. I took a sip of water and pulled myself together.

“It’s not good, Alvin. The cancer’s back. I don’t think we can stop it this time.”

Alvin nodded and leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds. Leaning forward, he rummaged in his bag, extracting a package about the size of a cigar box brightly-wrapped in silver paper. He placed it on the desk and pushed it across to me.

“I know, Doc, and I knew you’d feel real bad about it. I thought this might cheer you up a little. Made it myself.”

Speechless, I carefully unwrapped a wooden box with an intricate inlay of a bird on the lid and scrolls of a yellow wood encircling the periphery.

“Not bad, eh?” he said. “Now the box is amboyna burl from Southeast Asia. One of the most exotic burls around. Chinese emperors used to hoard it like gold. Now they use it to make the dashboards on those high-end Mercedes. Just a delight to feel it in your hands, isn’t it? Like butter.”

He reached across to outline the yellow scrollwork inlaid on the sides. “Now that’s East Indian satinwood,” he said excitedly. “India and Sri Lanka. Tightest grain you ever saw. Hold it up to the light and it looks like it’s embedded with diamonds.”

I ran my hand over the polished surface, turning it to catch the light, catching some of Alvin’s enthusiasm for the natural beauty of the wood and marveling at the craftsmanship.

“The bird,” he said, “is my poor attempt at a phoenix. Lots of different woods in it for the colors: bloodwood for the fire, granadillo for most of the body, plum for the wings, some ebony for the talons. Whaddaya think?”

I stared slack-jawed at the man who’d just received a death sentence. “Alvin,” I managed, “it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Knew you’d like it,” he said, his voice smiling for him. “Thanks for being my doc. We gave it a good run didn’t we?”

Because there are two worlds: the one you see in real life and the one you see on TV or newspaper.

You watch TV, navigate through social media and you think you are well informed abou the world. And you know a lot about China. A strong dictatorship, damn commies, cheap labor and poor brainwashed people that would be amazed to see the “Free world”. The government is spying on their citizens, like CIA or NSA. But when commies do, you think is worst. Of course.

And one day, casually, you decide that you will visit China.

You arrived there and you are shocked. You can barely believe in your own eyes.

The big cities are super modern, big, shinning tall buildings. The way you pay, the way you shop, the hypermarket looks like in The Jetsons.

You are in the future.

The level of automation there is out of this world (Western world, cough, cough). You had no idea that so many online services were already available to the people. You realize you have been scammed by your own country and media.

After the initial shock, you, an an educated person after all, well traveled, you have knowledge. Knowledge from the free world.

You decide to talk to the educated Chinese. Another shock. They know more about you (you as a citizen and your political beliefs) and your country than you know about them. Where is the brainwashing?

“Hey, but they are not free” you think in relieve. What can you do that they can’t? Let’s see… protest?

As if protests are changing something…

Vote? Chinese economy is growing faster and better than democracies…

It doesn’t matter, you are a free, superior citizen of the developed world. You traveled there to China to see them! And see that the Chinese studying abroad are going back to China… Whatever, they are commies.

You visit the Rural China, you still see a lot of poverty. You feel better about yourself. Hahaha, they are still poor!

You go back to the big cities and there is no way to deny the reality: China is growing and is glowing.

You go back home and you see, China is actually a good place. Very different from what you see on TV.

That’s why year after year the “experts” in your country are predicting the fall of China. There is nothing else to do beyond pray that somehow China will stop growing and wil be the end of the Western hegemony over the world.

PS: Go on, call me Communist Party propagandist.

We start with three videos

All there (x3) must be watched. This is from Singapore, and they are a third party trying to understand China.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2 is especially illuminating, to quiet those who insist China will fold immediately with a blockade of the Malacca Straits.

part 3

 

Love

main qimg 3adbf05a393727350153b309126d0b8a
main qimg 3adbf05a393727350153b309126d0b8a

The sad death of Australian wine

Australia killed wine trade with China. The LARGEST consumer of wine in the world.

This is what happened…

2023 05 18 06 46
2023 05 18 06 46

2023 05 18 06 48
2023 05 18 06 48

This happened a few days ago at Wal-Mart.

My son and I got in line to check out and an elderly woman with a walker was at the register. She was having a bit of difficulty with unloading her cart so the man in front of us went to help her. As we waited, my son overheard a woman behind us say “Why is it taking so long? My God, why do they let people like that in stores.”

My son turned to the woman and said “For the same reason they let people like you in here. They have to eat too. I hope you find yourself in her position one day and remember how rude you are now.”

She stood there in shock and silent afterwards. I had tears of pride in my eyes knowing that my son just put a pretentious person in their place. He went over to the elderly lady and asked if she needed help to her car and went with her to load her groceries. At 16, and mildly autistic, this was HUGE. He didn’t wait for permission, he just went and did what was right.

I wish others would do the same.

The Poverty In Mississippi Is Unlike Anything You’ve Ever Seen

America

Reality…

2023 05 18 10 44
2023 05 18 10 44

I’ve, on occasion woken up in the middle of the night…stumbled around and accidentally stepped on my cat’s tail.

There are two things that happen at that moment, one he cries out immediately and I get off, two I pick him up, hug him, kiss his cheek and tell him I’m sorry.

He still loves the crap out of me and I love the crap out of him.

Does he know it was an accident, absolutely…you know how I know? He didn’t scratch the crap out of me or run off, he waited for the kiss and hug then made sure I was alright.

As with everyone on this planet, you get the gambit of responses. Some cats bolt some fight back and some overreact.

Chicken Fajita Pasta Toss

2023 05 13 18 58
2023 05 13 18 58

Ingredients

  • 8 ounces vermicelli or thin pasta, drained and kept warm
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, cut into strips
  • 1 cup quartered, sliced onion
  • 1 cup sliced red bell pepper
  • 1 cup sliced yellow bell pepper
  • 1 (7 ounce) can chiles, drained and cut into strips
  • 1/2 cup taco sauce
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 package fajita seasoning mix
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)
  • 1 lime, cut into wedges optional

Instructions

  1. Heat vegetable oil in large skillet over medium high heat. Add chicken; cook for 4 to 5 minutes or until no longer pink.
  2. Add onion, bell pepper and chiles; cook, stirring frequently, for 1 to 2 minutes.
  3. Stir taco sauce, water and seasoning mix. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low; cook, stirring frequently, for 2 to 3 minutes or until mixture thickens.
  4. Serve over pasta. Garnish with cilantro and lime wedges.

6 servings.

Oh, that. Yeah. That pretty much happened in the 1970’s.

As always, do not expect to be informed by reading Western (American) “News”. The term “disinfo” means to distract and inform with falsehoods.

I suppose I could throw out all sorts of facts and figures. I could show you charts. In general, the more charts thrown in an article the more believable it is. It’s a funny thing with non-critical thinkers; they see charts, but don’t understand their meanings or impacts. Colorful ones are the best. You’ll get a lot of nodding bubble heads for certain.

So…

What is an “economic superpower”? How does it translate into lifestyle?

Or to put differently, if you lived inside of an economic superpower, what would you lifestyle be like? And it is from that angle; from that vision, from that observation that we will explore the answer to this question.

This is different from tabulated reams of data, and lectures by “blue panel experts”. This is different from “on the street” interviews, and what the “history books” say.

If you lived in an economic superpower, your life would be [1] stable, [2] comfortable, and [3] safe. Otherwise, what’s the point? A name? A title? No, don’t be silly. An economic superpower is a place where everyone lives a great life.

Let’s look at the three aspects…

Stable

You could work in your chosen profession without ever having to worry about a “layoff”, a “downsize”, a “right size” or firing. You would not need to hold multiple jobs to support your family, and a family would only need one breadwinner.

Comfortable

You would have a fine, well attired home. No mortgages. No need to procure loans or borrow money to support that lifestyle. You would eat well, sleep comfortably, and have access to inexpensive, but good, medical care.

Safe

Crime would not be present, and there would be few instances of fraud. There would be no crime or fraud in government, and everything would be transparent and above-the-board.

Of course, for large nations, you can never actually achieve the ideals.

But you can obtain a “best fit” ideal; one where the various three aspects were predominant in your culture. And that, this honest to goodness view of personal first-hand reality is what we need to judge what an economic superpower is. Because using this measurement, you are omitting technology. You are omitting oligarch influence. You are omitting government type and behavior. instead you are looking at the visceral aspects of society; ones that you experience.

Around 1970, the United States lost this role. At the same time, China gained this role.

And everything else is just fluff.

Numbers and opinions that are great on multiple choice questions on a test, but have no actual purpose in regards to understandings.

By comparing one’s lifestyle you can easily see whether they are living in an economic superpower or not.

The early 1970’s was the time when Americans lost the three primary elements of societal foundations that are prevalent in an economic superpower. And it was precisely at this time, when the Chinese gained them.

the american dream doesn’t exist

China has very sophisticated anti-ship missiles (including hypersonic), destroyers (Type 055, Type 052D), attack submarines (Type 093, upcoming Type 095), ASW aircraft, satellites, etc. to counter the US Navy. US carriers would be foolish to come close to China’s coast (within several thousand kilometers).

China also has the world’s most advanced stealth fighters in the J-20 and upcoming J-35.

America brags about its ageing F-22 (production discontinued in 2011) and its underpowered F-35, which has a shorter range, lower ceiling, lower speed, and smaller payload than the J-20. LOL.

The Pentagon is not stupid. They won’t engage China.

Answers don’t seem to address the question: if you don’t want US to get involved with the battle of Taiwan, which might trigger WW3, what can you do as an individual?

If that’s the premise of the question.

My friend posted an email that he sent to his district congressman last year when Russia invaded Ukraine, his demand was the opposite, he requested the congressman to support sending US military into the war!

Now that’s ww3 that almost happened, last year.

Now this is a smart guy, smarter than me, how could he have made such a stupid decision?

Me and another friend were ridiculing him, that we would buy guns and armor for him, so that he can volunteer for Ukraine. Hey if you wanna die don’t represent us. You can volunteer to fight, we will root for ya, even buy your gears!

The topic of nuclear Armageddon came up, I asked him, you and me both live in tier one cities, the first wave to be vaporized, have you thought of that? Never mind the guy who lives in Texas or Ohio, who might go berserk to be tough with Russia, it’s for us to die when shit happens, not him. And we can support Ukraine all we want (through funding the war, supplying weapons and intelligence to coordinating attacks, to sanctions which we don’t agree with again but that’s at least not the line in the sand), but hey NO that’s NOT our war!

You see Russia or China or whichever nuclear country that we decide to attack, they would make sure that DC, NYC, the Bay Area, Los Angeles, and maybe Chicago (sorry Chicago don’t think you were that important but you would probably be totally ok to be missed in the top 5 must hit list for America) bite the dust.

So let’s go B——n? Well f* you too if you think that our lives can be collateral damage in MAD. Great gracious that B——n didn’t think so, sometimes it’s good to back down.

So call and email your congressman, and other representatives – if you want my vote don’t do anything silly on that front, you are triggering ww3. Unfortunately that’s all you can do.

Btw, that friend has completely come to his senses after a few months of the war and now totally agree with me. That is not our war, support all you want, but if you wanna join do it yourself, die for Ukraine but don’t represent me!

Peace.

I also want to talk a bit about my perspective on Taiwan, since most Americans don’t know that ww3 could be happening on that side of the world and what our government and representatives are doing about it.

We are provoking the hostilities.

2023 05 18 10 23
2023 05 18 10 23

We are flying military aircrafts regularly near their air space.

We are patrolling our great navy carriers near their waters.

BUT it’s our right amirite? Yeah pretty much if a peeping tom wants to it is also his right, as long as he keeps enough distance, but that’s not hostile? Com’on.

Also don’t forget if peeping tom isn’t even your neighbor, there’s something called restraining order (in fact even if he were your neighbor).

Oh that’s not all that is happening in that area, that’s what we have been doing for decades.

What we are doing now is to go to slap them in the face, by doing something we don’t do before but are doing now often to infuriate them, we visit their wife during some sort of divorce.

BUT it’s our right amirite? Sure bet. A man visits your wife who hates you, sleeps over at her place, hey he’s not banging her promise. That’s not being hostile? Ok maybe he will make sure that you see them banging, is it hostile enough for ya?

BUT what about freedom? and democracy!

Wah I got to see a porn movie that also educates us about democracy.

Freedom!

Peace.

(I usually don’t want to talk about war with Russia and China but if it’s before we go for ww3, at least don’t pretend that it’s a joke, do people’s lives look like a joke to you?)

Chinese Culture: The values that set them apart.

I lived in China for 8 years and honestly, those were the best and happiest years of my life. Cheers!

My brother, cousin and I are adopted.

I asked my mother when I was little why she couldn’t have her own children. She said she had a hysterectomy.

I didn’t think much of it then but as I got older I realized she had only been 30 when my older brother was adopted. I thought it was unusual to have the procedure done in her 20’s.

My mom was born in 1916, so a risky procedure, I would think in the 1930’s. I found out her younger sister had a hysterectomy at a early age as well.

Then, in my 50’s I got the whole story from an older cousin.

My Adopted mom’s mother had made a deal with a devilish doctor ( probably for sexual favors) to perform hysterectomies on her daughters while they were CHILDREN.

I believe my mother was eight and my aunt perhaps six!!!!

My mom and aunt didn’t remember anything of the procedure.

They didn’t know what had been done to them until in their 20’s, when my Aunt Etta was talking to her fiancé ( my uncle Bill) and as all young people in love do, they were discussing how many kids they wanted, and my GRANDMOTHER from the next room, yelled in to them, “ You won’t be having any children! I took care of that! I’m not having your body ruined like mine was!”

That is how my mother and aunt found out they would never have children…. thanks to a sadistic and psychopathic grandmother and some crazy, immoral doctor in Dallas, Texas in the 1920’s.

Not that Way: The Superb Concept Art Works of Oliver Ryan

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Oliver Ryan is a UK based concept artist and illustrator working in games and animation.

More: Instagram, Artstation

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Be a good guy

2023 05 18 11 05
2023 05 18 11 05

The ASEAN finance ministers and central bank governors meeting agreed to reinforce the use of local currencies to ensure financial stability.

To facilitate regional economic integration, leaders of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) made a declaration on advancing regional payment connectivity and promoting local currency transaction on Wednesday during the two-day ASEAN Summit

2023 05 18 10 47
2023 05 18 10 47

The leaders of 10 Southeast Asian nations, members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), have agreed to “encourage the use of local currencies for economic and financial transactions.” The group comprises Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam. This move will help them reduce their reliance on the U.S. dollar.

Southeast Asian Countries’ De-Dollarization Efforts

The leaders of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) gathered in Labuan Bajo, Indonesia, for the 42nd ASEAN Summit on May 10-11 under the chairmanship of the Republic of Indonesia. ASEAN members comprise Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam. This year’s 42nd ASEAN Summit under Indonesia’s chairmanship is themed “ASEAN Matters: Epicentrum of Growth,” held from May 9 to 11 in the Indonesian town of Labuan Bajo.

Ahead of the summit, the Indonesian Employers Association (Apindo) had expected that Indonesia could drive regional de-dollarization through its 2023 ASEAN chairmanship. Ajib Hamdani, head of Apindo’s Economic Policy Analyst Committee, said in an official statement that de-dollarization has become a global phenomenon and, to some extent, an economic orientation.

Leaders declared to commit to advancing regional payment connectivity by utilizing emerging opportunities brought by innovation to facilitate seamless and secure cross-border payment, taking country circumstances into consideration. They also agreed to encourage the use of local currencies for cross-border transactions in the region and support the establishment of a Task Force to explore the development of an ASEAN Local Currency Transaction Framework.

ASEAN is seeking to improve its regional payment connectivity through initiatives such as the recently launched Indonesia-Malaysia quick response (QR) standard, which allows citizens of both countries to use QR codes and their local currencies to make payments in the other. The bloc is also encouraging the settlement of regional accounts in local currencies rather than with the US dollar, the go-to currency for international trade.

“This is in line with the purpose of ASEAN centrality, so that ASEAN can be much stronger and self-reliant,” President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo said of the currency policy recommendation

An official declaration released by the chairman at the conclusion of the summit states: “We adopted the ASEAN Leaders Declaration on Advancing Regional Payment Connectivity and Promoting Local Currency Transaction to foster bilateral and multilateral payment connectivity arrangements to strengthen economic integration by enabling fast, seamless, and more affordable cross-border payments across the region.”

The declaration continues:

We commit to encourage the use of local currencies for economic and financial transactions among ASEAN member states to deepen regional financial integration and promote the development of currency market in local currency to strengthen financial stability in the region.

Among ASEAN countries, Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia and the Philippines been developing their capacity for local currency settlement since 2017. Recently, the region has established the similar framework with China, Japan and South Korea.

ASEAN leaders have also agreed to explore the development of a unified ASEAN local currency transaction framework that would help countries in the region transition away from established trade currencies like the US dollar.

At the end of March, the ASEAN finance ministers and central bank governors met in Bali, Indonesia, and agreed to take steps to reinforce the use of local currencies in the region and reduce reliance on the U.S. dollar or other major international currencies for cross-border trade and investment in an effort to ensure financial stability and avoid spillovers such as high inflation from the global crisis.

Bank of Indonesia Governor Perry Warjiyo said in April that Indonesia is following the BRICS’ de-dollarization lead . The BRICS nations (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa) are working on a common currency to reduce their reliance on the USD; their leaders plan to discuss this topic at their upcoming leaders’ summit.

Multiple people expect a common BRICS currency to erode  the U.S. dollar’s dominance, including a former White House economist who warned that if the BRICS nations used only their common currency for international trade, “they would remove an impediment that now thwarts their efforts to escape dollar hegemony.” Investment analyst Jon Wolfenbarger cautioned that a successful BRICS currency could result in the U.S. dollar losing its reserve currency status. This would hurt U.S. living standards and lead to less power for the U.S. government.

A woman called my newsroom crying. Nobody wanted to deal with her. So they sent her to me. She was crying and hard to understand, but the basic story went this way…

She had bought a used car. She needed it badly to get to the THREE jobs she held to support her children by herself. No husband. Less than two weeks after buying the car, it broke down. She called the dealer who had told her it had a 30-day warranty.

He told her he couldn’t help. But, she told him, you said it had a 30 day warranty. His response — too bad. When she complained, he told her — “lady, you’re dealing with the big boys now.”

She was crying as she told me this. I was — to put it mildly — angry.

My response to her — let me call you back.

I called him. I explained the problem and when I did not get what I considered a good response, I “explained” things to him:

  1. He needed to respond appropriately to her and solve the problem.
  2. If he did not respond appropriately, I would have my entire investigative news team look into his operation.
  3. He did not like that.
  4. Cautionary note here: My response – YOU picked the wrong person to fight with, and no, NOW, you’re playing with the Big Boys, expletives to follow…

He took back her car.

Gave her a slightly newer model without any problems.

She called crying and thanked me.

I may have cried a little bit too.

Picture worth a thousand words. …

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2023 05 18 10 w49
2023 05 18 10 w49

Although the Biden administration has been trying to disassociate its policy towards Africa from its confrontation with China and Russia, a senior administration official who spoke on a call with reporters ahead of Harris’s trip acknowledged that “Obviously, we can’t ignore the current geopolitical moment. It’s no secret that we are engaged in competition with China. And we’ve said very clearly we intend to outcompete China in the long term.”

2023 05 18 10 50
2023 05 18 10 50

For decades, the United States treats African countries like charity cases. That was exacerbated during the Trump administration, which largely ignored the continent. Former US President Donald Trump even insulted some African countries as “shithole countries” in a 2018 meeting.

At the same time, China, as a strategic competitor of the United States, has continuously strengthened its investment in Africa, helping African countries build roads and other infrastructure, and establishing more solid economic and political relations. That was determined by how differently China views Africa than the U.S., with the latter tending to see Africa as a series of problems–wars, famines, something like that, while China seeing it much more of an opportunity.

2023 05 18 10 5w1
2023 05 18 10 5w1

Vice President Kamala Harris landed at Zambia’s Kenneth Kuanda International Airport, a project upgraded by China.

Aiming to reset U.S.-Africa relations, several Biden administration officials paid visit to the continent. The vice president is the fifth Biden official in three months to visit the continent. For Harris, the first Black U.S. vice president, it also carries especially high stakes. Harris’ arrival marks the latest, most high-profile official to visit Africa this year, reportedly to pave way for President Joe Biden’s visit later in the year.

However, the change of the Biden administration does not mean that the United States has begun to pay attention to Africa’s development. The essence of Biden’s policy logic is no different from that of its predecessors, or even all their predecessors. What the United States cares most about in Africa is to ensure the influence of hegemony, and to deal with the “competition” of other major powers outside Africa, which is the source of all motives for the United States to ignore or attach importance to Africa.

Although the U.S. spares no effort to woo Africa, the current China-Africa trade volume is still five times that of the U.S.-Africa trade, and China’s direct investment in Africa is still twice that of the U.S. These are indisputable facts. In addition, China’s aid to Africa has not only about building a large amount of infrastructure, but also created millions of job opportunities for Africa. Therefore, it is self-evident how African countries and peoples should choose, to cooperate with China for tangible development or to be placed at the “strategic bottom” by the United States.

Chicken with Lime Butter

2023 05 13 18 59
2023 05 13 18 59

Ingredients

  • 6 chicken breasts, boned and skinned
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pepper
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 8 tablespoons butter
  • 1 teaspoon minced chives
  • 1/2 teaspoon fresh dill weed
  • Juice from 1 Mexican lime

Instructions

  1. Sprinkle chicken on both sides with salt and pepper. Put oil in pan and cook over medium heat. Add chicken and sauté for about 4 minutes on each side or until lightly browned.
  2. Reduce heat to low and cover; let cook for 10 minutes or until fork can be inserted in chicken with ease.
  3. Remove chicken and keep warm. Drain off oil and discard.
  4. In saucepan, add lime juice and cook over low heat until the juice begins to bubble. Add butter, constantly stirring until butter thickens. Stir in chives and dill weed.
  5. Spoon over chicken and serve.
  6. Garnish with lime slices and dill weed.

They Really Did It! | The U.S. Confiscates Russian Assets

2023 05 13 19 14
2023 05 13 19 14

This is true. The US is in a state of apparent decline, and this decline may be even irreversible. At this rate, within 10 years or so, the Chinese GDP per capita will match the US, and the standard of life will be higher, because the GDP in China is distributed more evenly among the population. No small testament to this is that China already, recently exceeded the U.S. in life expectancy, one of the main indicators of national wellbeing, if not the main one.

Because of the above-said decline, the US is losing world influence, which is leading to the formation of new big economic alliances like BRICS, and the new “no limits” strategic and economic alliances between Russia and China. The decline is also leading to the beginning of de-dollarization, a very dangerous trend for the US.

I hope the U.S. and its allies take heed of all this and make the necessary adjustments…the day before yesterday. This is not the time for intolerance, intransigence, and being uncompromising….

First Love.

2023 05 18 11 03
2023 05 18 11 03

Second Love.

2023 05 18 11 033
2023 05 18 11 033

Third Love.

2023 05 18 11 0w4
2023 05 18 11 0w4

30 Patriot missiles in 2 minutes. Zelensky returns to Kiev

US Navy, Chinese PLA Engaged In ‘Dangerous Encounter’ Near Hong Kong; US Forced To Destroy Its Own Sonars – Media

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In a stunning revelation, it has been disclosed that China and the US were engaged in a high-stakes military confrontation mere 150 kilometers away from Hong Kong in early 2021. 

The intensity of the situation prompted the US to take a bold step and destroy its floating sonars to prevent them from falling into Beijing’s hands, reported SCMP. 

One day before the deadly riots on January 6, 2021, supporters of former President Donald Trump had gathered outside the Capitol building in Washington. 

On that same day, the report said three US military aircraft embarked on an unusual submarine hunt, conducting operations remarkably close to China’s shoreline. 

A team of Chinese military scientists has released the first open report on the January 5 incident, which includes a significant disclosure. 

The report disclosed that a US anti-submarine plane flew close to Hong Kong, reaching as close as 150 kilometers (93 miles). 

The report further said that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) acted swiftly by deploying a classified counterforce during the US naval exercise, but the nature and size of this response remain classified.  

Led by Liu Dongqing from PLA Unit 95510, the research team emphasized that US activities significantly threatened China’s national security. The study highlighted that such actions could severely impede the critical missions of Chinese submarines during wartime.  

The report said that US spy planes strategically placed sensors in the waters near the Dongsha Islands, which are also referred to as the Pratas Islands. These islands consist of atolls and reefs under Taiwan’s control. 

The deployment of these sensors indicates the involvement of the United States in monitoring activities in the region, adding to the complexity of the situation surrounding these contested waters.

In contrast to other disputed islands in the South China Sea, where the United States has been conducting freedom of navigation operations to challenge what it perceives as China’s excessive claims, the Dongsha Islands are claimed solely by Taipei and Beijing. 

In this case, the absence of broader territorial claims by other countries sets the Dongsha Islands apart from other contentious areas in the region.

8 Chinese work ethics that WILL improve your life

  1. You move on. You don’t waste time feeling sorry for yourself.
  2. You are kind, fair, and unafraid to speak up.
  3. You embrace change. You welcome challenges.
  4. You stay happy. You don’t waste energy on things you can’t control.
  5. You are willing to take calculated risks.
  6. You celebrate other people’s success. You don’t feel threatened by other’s achievements.

China Accuses US Of Monitoring, Blocking, And Containing Chinese Subs

The United States, according to Chinese researchers, has devoted significant efforts to target China’s submarine forces in recent years specifically. They contend that this intensified focus is part of a larger pattern of increased US military activities within the South China Sea region.  

2023 05 18 10 38
2023 05 18 10 38

The report added that the US utilizes sophisticated tools such as sonar buoys and sensors to locate submarines even when operating at significant depths below the surface. 

The scientists from the PLA assert that the techniques employed by the United States pose a “severe threat” to China’s submarines, significantly impeding their ability to operate covertly within the region. 

According to Liu’s team, the US uses a deliberate tactic of flying spy planes at low altitudes of around 60 meters, which is relatively close to the ground and poses safety risks. 

This tactic enhances the ability to detect and track submarines, especially by anti-submarine patrol aircraft such as the US Navy’s P-8A.

The report revealed that the US military deployed several aircraft to locate Chinese submarines, which operated in a coordinated manner to achieve their goals. 

The team led by Liu Dongqing from the PLA’s electronic warfare unit noted that the US intended to monitor, block and contain China’s activities. 

The US military maintained a persistent presence in the area by conducting multiple flights over an extended period, enabling them to gather extensive information about Chinese submarine activity and enhancing their situational awareness and surveillance capabilities.

In response to the US efforts, PLA researchers have proposed measures to counteract them, as suggested in the latest study.  

China’s electronic warfare capabilities could disrupt or jam US floating sonar systems, hindering submarine detection. China is also developing realistic decoys to deceive US sonar systems by mimicking submarine sounds and movements. 

The Chinese military also collaborates with private companies to enhance submarine stealth technology. 

That being said, the disclosed information highlights the escalated military activities and countermeasures being taken by both sides. 

Smile

2023 05 18 11 06
2023 05 18 11 06

1. Get up early every morning.

2. Save money every month.

3. Start your business.

4. Write down your goal everyday.

5. Start Investing.

6. Be with capable people.

7. Get into the habit of reading books.

8. Exercise daily for one hour.

9. Create multiple sources of income.

And last

10. Set long term goals.

I went to a mall in my hometown 2 weeks ago to redeem a gift voucher I got from my parents about 3 years ago.

I parked in the basement and walked up to the doors where a guy wearing a staff uniform was waiting and opened the door for me, as I stepped inside he joined me and pressed the button to go the a certain floor without asking me where I’m going.

As the doors started closing my gut told me to GTFO because something is off about this guy.

I stepped out pretending that I forgot something in the car, the guy didn’t follow me out.

I decided that it was nothing and shouldn’t stress about it. So up I went to the 3rd floor, as I stepped out a bunch of security guards came running toward the lift and chased me out and took the lift to the next floor.

I asked one of the people what happened and no one knew.

Maybe 10 minutes later there was an announcement saying that the 5th floor and the elevators on that side of the mall is closed due to security reasons.

Turned out that the guy who was with me in the lift slashed the next guy who entered’s neck with a carpenters knife (killing him) and tried to attack the security guards when the doors opened.

My gut really saved me that day

Three Steps

2023 05 18 11 00
2023 05 18 11 00

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A new world with an independent Hawaii and Okinawa under an Asian umbrella of protection

Are you ready for the massive changes that are speeding toward us?

They are charging towards us at a strong gallop.

Jeeze!

So you think that the United States is NOT a military empire?

main qimg cf4bb1baa7dd86ec9fca19ecb16e5859 pjlq
main qimg cf4bb1baa7dd86ec9fca19ecb16e5859 pjlq

FOREIGN MINISTRY: “U.S. DIRECTLY KILLING RUSSIANS”

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The US is directly contributing to the deaths of Russians by providing military and financial aid to Ukraine, Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova charged on Friday.

She was reacting to a Kommersant interview with Lynne Tracy, the US ambassador to Moscow, who stated that Washington “does not view Russians as enemies.”

“The Russian people are getting killed with targeting done by the US, money [provided] by the US, weapons [supplied] by the US, and by the hands of a regime that was brought to power by the US as a result of a coup orchestrated by the US,” Zakharova wrote on Telegram, referring to the Western-backed 2014 uprising in Kiev that ousted the democratically elected president, Viktor Yanukovich.

In an interview published in Russian newspaper Kommersant on Thursday, Tracy said she supports informal contacts between Americans and Russians, and that the US “does not want to ‘cancel’ the Russian people in any way.”

“No matter what differences we, the United States, have with the Russian government, they are not differences with the people of Russia,” she said.

The Foreign Ministry later issued a statement criticizing the ambassador’s interview, in which it accused Tracy of cherry-picking and fabricating facts about Ukraine’s recent history. The US diplomat claimed that “a situation in which a leader who lost support and got scared of his own people takes a decision to flee” could not be called a coup.

“Madam Ambassador probably does not know, and was not informed by her aides, that this simple puzzle… lacks the truth and correct sequence of events,” the ministry said.

The statement went on to explain that the protests in Kiev were infiltrated by violent extremists supported by US officials, and ended with a power-sharing agreement that the opposition forces immediately broke. Tracy’s failure to acknowledge the nature of the events in Kiev can be explained by either amnesia or ignorance, while her description has nothing to do with reality, the Russian ministry added. The statement included a screenshot of the interview with a large red ‘FAKE’ stamp on it.

Washington imposed sweeping sanctions on Moscow shortly after Russia launched its military operation in Ukraine in February 2022. The US and many other NATO countries have since supplied Kiev with heavy weapons, including tanks and artillery systems, and shared intelligence with Ukraine. The State Department said in January that it was up to Kiev to determine how to use foreign arms.

Russia has warned that the military aid makes the US and NATO de facto direct participants in the conflict. Moscow also repeatedly accused Ukraine of using US-made weapons, such as HIMARS multiple rocket launchers and M777 howitzers, to kill civilians.

On April 13, Ukrainian troops used HIMARS launchers to shell a hospital in the Donbass city of Svatovo, local officials said. On Thursday, several areas in the Donetsk People’s Republic were hit with rockets and artillery rounds, leaving one woman dead and eight people, including four children, injured, according to the authorities.

The Coming Kingdom of Hawaii

US territorial integrity under threat
May 1, 2023
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After Ukraine began massacring civilians in 2015, President Putin warned that Russia would no longer respect Kiev’s territorial integrity if the killing continued. Ukraine continued killing and lost territorial integrity when the Donbas oblasts fled to Putin’s embrace.

After Japan began threatening China’s territorial integrity with Taiwan, Beijing decided not to wait, and has taken the initiative.

The Ryukyu Kingdom

Japan annexed the Ryukyu Islands when China was at her weakest, in 1879, and renamed it “Okinawa Prefecture”. Before that it was the Ryukyu Kingdom, an independent state under Chinese protection. To this day its people have not reconciled to their colonial status and life in a dumping ground of America’s biggest bases and the decades of rapes and murders that accompany them – especially since Americans are immune to Okinawa laws.

Their former protector has heard their prayers.

On April 21, discussing Taiwan at the Lanting Forum, Chinese Foreign Minister Qing Gang set the diplomatic stage by referencing the Cairo Declaration and the Potsdam Proclamation – both of which state clearly that Ryukyu is not part of Japan.

A week later, on April 28, Wu Jianghao, China’s ambassador to Japan, and Yoshimi Teruya, Deputy Governor of Okinawa talked privately for three hours. Then Ambassador Wu announced that China will officially call Okinawa Prefecture by its pre-Japanese name “琉球”, Ryukyu, and will open a regional diplomatic office in Ryukyu. Denny Tamaki, Governor of Okinawa Prefecture, will visit Beijing later this month.

The announcement electrified Okinawa’s independence movement and raised the possibility that Russia – whose Kuril Islands Japan claims – will recognize Ryukyu, too, doubtless followed by most post-colonial countries.

Okinawa’s strategic significance is difficult to exaggerate. Almost in sight of Mainland China, it has the greatest concentration of US bases in the Pacific, and is the jumping-off place for the attack currently in rehearsal:

US TROOPS DRILL FOR TAIWAN WAR

29 April, 2023 20:30. US Army Special Operations Command (USASOC) has carried out drills simulating its response to a Chinese seizure of Taiwan for the first time, as part of the USAOC’s annual capabilities exercise at Fort Bragg. Troops practiced being inserted into Taiwan to help defend against a Chinese offensive, using a concrete mock-up on the base to simulate the environment in which they would fight the PRC.

Fight how? Where, exactly?

The arc of China’s dominance of the West Pacific extends to Darwin Port, Australia. No warship is safe from ballistic ship-killing missiles within that perimeter, certainly not $20 billion Ford Class carriers, pride of the fleet.

Meanwhile, Okinawa is 90 miles from China’s inventory of 30,000 base-busting missiles.

2023 05 01 21 14
2023 05 01 21 14

Target Asymmetricality

China could preemptively attack American bases for the same reason Russia did so in Ukraine: to keep the world’s most aggressive power at a safe distance. However, America’s retaliatory choices are all bad:

  1. Do nothing, be humiliated, and concede world leadership to China.
  2. Strike a Chinese target and watch China’s bigger, faster, more accurate missiles reduce the UCLA campus to rubble 54 minutes later.
  3. Cut to the chase and unleash every atomic warhead on China. But, like its public health, China’s anti-missile defense is 100x better than America’s and Chinese society is famously resilient while America’s is dangerously fragile. There’s nothing like a lost war to sour public mood.

Escalation Dominance

If a defeat in Ukraine and a threat to Okinawa do not discourage Washington, China can raise the stakes yet again.

In 1826 the United States recognized Hawaii as a monarchy, with its own international trade and friendship treaties but, seeing the potential of Hawaiʻian agriculture and its strategic location, overthrew Queen Liliʻuoukalani and the Kingdom of Hawaii, colonized and annexed it in 1893 – years after Japan annexed the Ryukyu Kingdom.

Despite its balmy charms, few haole get comfortable in Hawaii and one reason they leave is fear. I took armed guards with my family when we visited a remote Kauai beach because local lads were murdering haole at the time. Murders have declined, but the hatred hasn’t. Hawaiians have never forgiven America for their subjugation and marginalization in their own Paradise.

So..when will we see this on CNN?

China’s Ambassador to the United States, after a three hour private meeting with Hawaii’s Governor Waiheʻe, announced that China will refer to Hawaii as ‘The Kingdom of Hawaii’ from this date. Spokeswoman for NGO Independence Hawaii, Janeta Liliʻuoukalani, hailed the move, “We Hawaiians thank President Xi for our liberation and invite him to our Independence Day”.

Xi’s Ryukyu initiative will stymie Biden and Tokyo for weeks, even months. Japan can kick the bases out and presumably keep Okinawa, or it can keep the bases and lose Okinawa. Territorial integrity is a big deal, and Japan has had none since 1945. This would be a first.

Xi’s father was was a wartime general and the best negotiator in China, said Mao. Having withstood attacks for decades, Xi Jr has launched a well-prepared offensive, and Turkey’s Foreign Minister couldn’t be happier, “Everybody hates America,” he told a delighted audience.

We live in interesting times.

America Has Dictated Its Economic Peace Terms to China

By refusing negotiation over China’s rise, the United States might be making conflict inevitable.

Adam Tooze
By , a columnist at Foreign Policy and director of the European Institute at Columbia University.
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How far will mounting tension with China be translated into the economic policy of the United States? After a rash of sanctions and overtly discriminatory legislation, with action on U.S. investment in China pending, and with talk of war increasingly commonplace in the United States, the Biden administration knows that it needs to clarify its economic relations with the country that is the largest U.S. trading partner outside North America.

In the wake of this month’s International Monetary Fund and World Bank spring meetings, Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen has made her first major statement on economic relations with China since 2021. Judged by the tone, her message is intended to clarify and calm the waters of speculation and debate about motives and intentions. In the current situation, however, it is far from clear whether clarity actually contributes to calm.

The scenario that Yellen rejects is that of the Thucydides trap, but her reasons for doing so are telling. The idea that “conflict between the United States and China” is “increasingly inevitable” is, she insists, based on a false premise. That outlook was “driven by fears, shared by some Americans, that the United States was in decline. And that China would imminently leapfrog us as the world’s top economic power, leading to a clash between nations.” America would seek military confrontation to forestall the unfavorable shift in the power balance attendant on China’s phenomenal economic growth. This makes no sense, Yellen reassures us, because the American economy, thanks to its foundational institutions of freedom, its culture of innovation, and the wise governance of the Biden administration is in rude health.

“The United States remains the most dynamic and prosperous economy in the world.” So, Yellen insists, America has no reason to seek to “stifle China’s economic and technological modernization” or to pursue a deep decoupling. America’s economic power, the Treasury secretary goes on, “is amplified” by its relationships with “close friends and partners in every region of the world, including the Indo-Pacific.” America thus has “no reason to fear healthy economic competition with any country.” And then Yellen delivers the punchline: “China’s economic growth need not be incompatible with U.S. economic leadership.”

It is worth lingering over the implication here. Conflict is not inevitable because America is doing well. That in turn means that China can grow without threatening American economic leadership. But what if that were not the case? Yellen does not spell out the implication. Yet in that eventuality, where Yellen leaves little room for doubt, all bets would be off. Even now, even when the Biden administration professes to be confident about America’s economic prospects, Yellen insists: “As in all of our foreign relations, national security is of paramount importance in our relationship with China.”

At one level, this is obvious. No public official will ever say anything else. Security is the basic function of states. But everything depends on the scope of your vision of national security and the level of trust. And if you have to state the priority of national security in foreign relations out loud, you know you have a problem.

For Yellen, it is obvious that America is entitled to define its national security at a planetary level. She claims, for instance, that amongst America’s “most pressing national security concerns” is the defense of Ukraine against Russian aggression. Anyone who chooses to ignore America’s sanctions against Russia and falls within its jurisdiction will face serious consequences. Likewise, since America has decided that it wishes to deny certain technologies to the Chinese military, it will impose sanctions and trade limits accordingly.

So a strong and self-confident America has no reason to stand in the way of China’s economic and technological modernization except in every area that America’s national security establishment, the most gigantic in the world, defines as being of essential national interest. For this to be anything other than hypocrisy, you have to imagine that we live in a goldilocks world in which the technology, industrial capacity, and trade that are relevant to national security are incidental to economic and technological modernization more broadly speaking.

Yellen pays lip service to that goldilocks vision, by insisting that U.S. measures against China will be tightly targeted. But, as everyone knows, those targeted measures have so far included massive efforts to hobble the world leader in 5G technology, Huawei, sanctions against the entire chip supply chain, and the inclusion of most major research universities in China on America’s entities list that strictly limits trade.

Meanwhile, to add to the perplexity, whilst Yellen insists that national security sanctions tell us nothing about America’s intentions towards Chinese growth, she trumpets legislation passed on the Biden administration’s watch, notably the Chips Act and the Inflation Reduction Act, which feature strong anti-Chinese elements, as contributing significantly to America’s own future prosperity.

The upshot is that America welcomes China’s economic modernization and will refuse the lure of the Thucydides trap so long as China’s development proceeds along lines that do not infringe on American leadership and national security. And America’s attitude will be all the more benign the more successful it is in pursuing its own national prosperity and preeminence precisely in those areas.

It is telling that what seems to be intended as a reasonable and accommodating statement is, in fact, so jarring. China must accept America’s demarcation of the status quo. If it does not respect the boundaries drawn for it by Washington between harmless prosperity and historically consequential technological development, then it should expect to face massive sanctions.

One must be grateful to Yellen for stating the point so clearly. But how on earth does Washington expect Beijing to respond? China is not Japan or Germany after 1945. In relation to the United States, if the question of “leadership” is posed, parity is the least that Beijing must aim for. The status quo that Treasury Secretary Yellen takes for granted clearly cannot be legitimate in the long run. As Beijing has said, it aspires to a fundamental reordering of world affairs such that American talk of leadership is retired forever. Nor is China the only major Asian power to share this view. India’s understanding is no different.

In Washington, this meets with blank incomprehension or even a sense of wounded pride. Does China not understand that it owes its growth to an American-led order? To rebel against that order, Yellen says quite openly, is not in China’s interest. Yellen is right that conflict between China and the United States is not inevitable. It does depend on the moves that both sides make.

But it is hard to see how her vision, in which the United States arrogates to itself the right to define which trajectory of Chinese economic growth is and is not acceptable, can possibly be a basis for peace.

If the United States is still interested in global economic and political order, and it surely should be, it must be open to negotiate peaceful change. Otherwise, it is simply asking for a fight.

UPDATED 5:50 PM — Europe Reveals Map BREAKING-UP RUSSIA into 41 new countries

Gunther Fehlinger, Chairman of the Austria NATO non-governmental organization (NGO), publicly revealed today, the West’s “plan” for Russia: Broken-up into 41 new, autonomous countries!

There wouldn’t BE a “Russia” anymore.

Russia’s response was simple: If there isn’t going to be a Russia anymore, then there isn’t going to be a Europe or USA, either.

World War 3 is officially on its way.

Here is Gunther Fehlinger and the West’s (suicidal) map of a world without Russia:

map of russia by the insane
map of russia by the insane

The revelation of this map is literal PROOF that it is the actual intention of the West to do-away with Russia.

By even manufacturing such a map, the West has shown its intent.

Russia now faces an ACTUAL existential threat.

Their very existence is at stake.

Think about the time and effort that was necessary to research the populations and ethnicities in each of these areas, where they are, and how to draw actual lines along the geography of the demographics, to create this vision of new, autonomous, countries.

The research and planning alone had to take . . .  YEARS.

Now that the map is actually out, and the entire world can see that the West has literally been planning for YEARS to completely do-away with Russia, we can all now see that the situation with Ukraine was intentionally manufactured BY THE WEST to provide the impetus to set in-motion, their nefarious plans.

With the release of this map, it seems to many observers that war is now a foregone conclusion.

What many people, myself included, really want to know is, Whose idea was this?

Who decided this needed to be done?  Because that person, or those persons, need to be directly confronted and engaged.

This plan is suicidal. Whoever thought of it, and whoever is promoting it, is a clear and present danger to the lives of millions.

People have a right to self defense against this monstrous and deadly plan.   That self-defense may have to be applied to the people who are promoting this and to the people who thought it up.

UPDATE 5:50 PM EDT —

I have engaged in locating Gunther Fehlinger and much to my shock and dismay, he is presently HERE in the United States.   Two hours ago, he was in Philadelphia where, among other stops, he entered the Masonic Temple.   He then departed Philadelphia by car and, at this update, is presently on the New Jersey Turnpike, heading north, into New York City!

He is scheduled to appear at the Hudson Institute!

Brit Ventriloquist Speaks: Ukraine’s Podolyak Demands China Must Break with Russia, and the War Continues

April 30, 2023, 2022 (EIRNS)—Mykhailo Podolyak, often considered Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s top adviser, told Ukraine’s Rada TV on April 28 that China has to choose between working with Russia—and lose its status as a major world power—or work with the West.

On Wednesday April 26 Zelenskyy had initiated an hour-long phone conversation with Chinese President Xi Jinping, which led to China’s agreement to send a high-level diplomat to Ukraine and “other countries,” to try to kick-start negotiations.

The next day, Thursday April 27, a high-level delegation of British and American war hawks descended on Kiev and met with Ukraine’s National Security and Defense Council chief Oleksiy Danilov to discuss “global cooperation and unity [for] a common victory.”

The delegation included former British Secret Intelligence Services (MI6) Chief Sir Richard Dearlove; Tobias Ellwood, the rabid neocon who heads the House of Commons Defense Select Committee; retired British senior Army officer and top NATO official, Gen. Richard Shirreff, who authored the novel 2017: War with Russia; and former U.S. Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Europe and NATO Policy Ian Joseph Brzezinski, the son of “Breakup Russia” strategist Zbigniew Brzezinski, amongst others.

Then on Friday April 28 Podolyak read the provided script to Rada TV:

“Now China has to make a choice.... 

Either it works within the framework defined by international law, and then replaces Russia in the full sense of the word, or China continues to stand aside and then it will gradually lose its influence, including economic influence.” 

About a month ago Podolyak had also tried to convince China to break with Russia: Speaking to Italy’s Corriere della Sera, he asked:

Why would China “help Russia, which is experiencing the collapse of its civilization? It would be an irreversible investment, and China is too pragmatic to make such mistakes.”

Sure. Easy paeasy.

The United States trade with China is through American companies operating inside of China. Very few Chinese companies manufacture products for the United States.

American companies do.

So, all the profit that the international companies make, go to the United States, not to China.

Of the Chinese companies that make products directly for United States clients, the tally is less than 3% of the total Chinese trade figure.

  • It’s not going to make any difference from the point of view of China.
  • However, it WILL make a great deal of difference to American owned companies operating inside of China.

Why aren’t there more homeless people in China?

China has announced that it will officially refer to Okinawa as Ryukyu Prefecture. The Ryukyu Kingdom was an independent kingdom until the 1840s when it was annexed by Japan. In 1879, Japan changed the name to Okinawa Prefecture.

In April, the Okinawa governor Denny Tamaki met with the Chinese ambassador to Japan Wu Jianghao, and in May he will travel for a visit to China.

China has stated that the Potsdam Declaration at the end of WWII stated that Japan was limited to the four main Japanese islands of Hokkaido, Honshu, Kyushu and Shizuoka.

Okinawa was the site of one of the bloodiest Pacific battles between the US and Japan, and one-fourth of the adult population was killed. Japanese forces committed many of the Okinawans to commit suicide instead of surrendering to the Americans.

It is now the site of a major US base in the Pacific and would be a forward base if there is war between the US and China.

U.S. hides its bioweapons activities from the international community

Having read the Russian report on the world’s largest U.S. biological warfare activity, the Chinese Foreign Ministry has expressed grave concern that the U.S. is not giving any explanation, refusing from any checks.

We remember the accusations against China that the world pandemic was allegedly caused by leaks from our military laboratory.

What secret is the U.S. hiding?

Article HERE

Chinese statement…

Statement HERE

US General: Russian Forces in Ukraine MORE than at start of War! “No real attrition”

A senior US military commander in Europe told lawmakers Wednesday that Russia has plenty more firepower, has lost thousands of troops, but present troop levels are MORE than at the start of the Ukraine operation.  Stunningly, the General says Russia has seen “no real attrition.”

“The Russian ground force has been degenerated somewhat by this conflict, although it is bigger today than it was at the beginning of the conflict,” Gen. Christopher Cavoli, the commander of US European Command (EURCOM), told the House Armed Services Committee.

“The Air Force has lost very little, they’ve lost 80 planes. They have another 1,000 fighters and fighter bombers,” he said. “The Navy has lost one ship.”

Last month, General Mark Milley, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, testified before Congress and said that Russian troops are “getting slaughtered” in their fight for Bakhmut.

“For about the last 20, 21 days, the Russians did not make any progress whatsoever in and around Bakhmut. So it’s a slaughter fest for the Russians,” Milley said. “They’re getting hammered in the vicinity of Bakhmut and the Ukrainians have fought very, very well.”

The losses appear to be only a fraction of Russia’s total military force. Cavoli said that “much of the Russian military has not been affected negatively” by its invasion of Ukraine.

Asked about Russia’s submarine patrols in the Atlantic, Milley told Congress “The Russians are more active than we’ve seen them in years, and their patrols into the Atlantic, and throughout the Atlantic, are at a high level, most of the time at a higher level than we’ve seen in years,” he said. “And this is, as you pointed out, despite all of the efforts that they’re undertaking inside Ukraine.”

Louisiana Ground Meat Pisketti

2023 04 19 15 10
2023 04 19 15 10

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 pounds lean ground meat
  • 1/4 cup diced onions
  • 1/4 cup diced bell pepper
  • 1/4 cup diced celery
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons Cajun seasoning
  • 1 (14.5 ounce) can fire roasted tomatoes
  • 1 (12 ounce) can tomato paste
  • 1 (15 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 6 cans (tomato paste) water
  • 1 tablespoon Cajun seasoning
  • 1 teaspoon minced garlic
  • 3 tablespoons Italian seasoning
  • 5 pinches sea salt, if desired
  • Spaghetti
  • Parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. In large Dutch oven over medium heat, add ground meat, diced vegetables and 1 1/2 tablespoons Cajun seasoning. Cook until ground meat is browned thoroughly.
  2. Drain grease, if any.
  3. Add the fire roasted tomatoes, tomato paste and tomato sauce. Add 6 cans of water. Stir well and add another tablespoon of Cajun seasoning, minced garlic and Italian seasoning. Cook over medium heat, covered, for approximately 45 minutes; stirring every now and then.
  4. After the 45 minutes, remove the lid and reduce heat to medium-low and allow to cook another 15 minutes.
  5. Meanwhile, cook spaghetti.
  6. When the pasta is cooked, ladle out about 1 cup of the water that the pasta cooked in and drain the pasta. Add this reserved water to spaghetti and stir well. This starchy water will help your spaghetti to stick to your noodles. Add sea salt if desired.
  7. Serve immediately./

China establishes 13 specialized national medical centers

China has established 13 national medical centers specializing in different fields, according to an official of the National Health Commission (NHC).

The NHC has worked with the National Development and Reform Commission to approve the construction of 76 more regional medical centers in areas with inadequate medical resources, NHC official Li Dachuan said at a press conference on Thursday.

Existing national medical centers specialize in fields such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, geriatrics, traumatic medicine and respiratory medicine, Li said.

National and regional medical centers developed 372 medical technologies that are pioneering or leading domestically or internationally in 2022, and over 1,400 diagnosis and treatment technologies have been transferred to various provinces since China initiated the program to build these centers, Li said.

The country will make plans to build more national and regional medical centers in the next five years to balance the development of medical services among regions, Li added.

Typical Troll ‘Bot

A shit load of troll accounts all set up in 2016-2017 have been laying down suppressive anti-China comments. If you go to their account, this is what you see…

2023 04 20 11 26
2023 04 20 11 26

Joined six years ago. Never commented. Never filled out a background. No activity. Never questioned anything. But suddenly they had to show up with some anti-China bullshit.

Chinese Defense Minister in Moscow. Preparing for the battle to come

Nothing unites two people faster than a third person declaring his intention to kill them both. It really is that simple.

“Canvas, Oil & Cat Memes”: Norwegian Artist Paints Pictures With Popular Cats On The Internet

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1 24 1

Espen Olsen Sætervik is a Norwegian artist. Judging by his biography on Twitter and ArtStation, he is now working on a game called Halo Infinite.

But the Norwegian is also known for his art and paintings. Soterwick has a series of “northern” landscapes — he draws them, inspired by the nature of Norway. At the same time, Sætervik has both physical paintings drawn with brushes and fully digital ones.

On August 3, Sætervik confessed on Twitter that he loves some of the most popular cats on the Internet. So he painted pictures with them in his own style. Heroes are a variety of pets: from Grumpy Cat to a cat asking for corn rings and a cat from a restaurant where two women shout.

Sætervik later published his works in high resolution for personal use. And if you wish, you can buy an artwork in the form of real paintings.

More: Espen Olsen Sætervik, Artstation, Twitter, Shop

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ussia RETALIATES for Attack on Sevastopol – Massive Russian Attacks

Russia has launch at least ten (10) Tu-95 Bombers into Ukraine and those aircraft are launching a large number of cruise missiles against Ukrainian targets.  Above, a massive explosion in Pavlohrad, a Ukrainian-occupied portion of Donetsk Oblast.  It seems a Ukrainian missile storage depot was hit!

Initial Reports say Russian Missiles struck a Rail Yard and a Ukrainian Arms Depot on the Outskirts of the City.  Multiple missiles inside that depot then launched catastrophically and unguided, into the night sky.

Video of the storage depot ablaze appears below:

Updates in progress, check back in minutes . . .

UPDATE 8:42 PM EDT —

Tu-95M Strategic Bombers went airborne from Olenya Air Base in Northwestern Russia, and flew into Ukraine to attack.

2023 05 02 09 42
2023 05 02 09 42

Now confirming Tu-95Ms are now Airborne from several OTHER Air Bases across Western Russia.  Additional strikes imminent.

UPDATE 8:50 PM EDT —

COVERT INTEL SOURCES INSIDE UKRAINE ARMY SAY ATTACK RESULTED IN TWO ENTIRE UKRAINIAN ARMY DIVISIONS LOST.

In addition, source now confirms sixteen (16)  S-300 missile defense launcher systems and all their missile refill canisters also destroyed.

UPDATE 8:56 PM EDT —

100 Shahded drones now reportedly airborne, heading into Ukraine

2023 05 02 09 38
2023 05 02 09 38

*** FLASH ***

US Boeing P-8 Poseidon has entered Ukrainian airspace. . .  while the Russian attack is taking place!

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2023 05 02 09 39

UPDATE 9:05 PM EDT —

Confirmation received that a total of 27  Russian Tu-95M  Strategic Bombers are in the air, carrying a MINIMUM of 130 to a MAXIMUM of 200 cruise missiles, are being used in tonight’s attack.

Confirmation also received that the number of Geran-2 UAVs flying over Ukraine now exceeds 50.

2023 05 02 09 40
2023 05 02 09 40

Confirmation that multiple Russian submarines in the Black Sea, carrying additional missiles, are off the coast of Ukraine but have NOT YET fired.

Shahed-136 drones are currently flying towards Mykolaiv and Kherson.

MORE:

4 missile carriers that can hold up to 24 Kalibr missiles EACH have been deployed to the Black Sea in the last few hours.

UPDATE 9:13 PM EDT —

THREE (3) TU-160 bombers have now also taken off from Russia heading toward Ukraine!

2023 05 02 09 3trw5
2023 05 02 09 3trw5

The P-8A Poseidon of the US Navy has completed its mission and is now safely back in Moldova Air Space.

Of Note: During the chaos of the ongoing attacks, in Kiev, the commander of the territorial defense units of Ukraine, Major General Oleinik Volodymyr, was eliminated. He was shot near his house.

2023 05 02 09 44
2023 05 02 09 44

UPDATE 9:17 PM EDT —

Russian bombers over the Caspian Sea have fired missiles; impacts inside Ukraine within 30 minutes.

COVERT INTEL SOURCE inside Ukrainian Army now confirms Russian bombers destroyed twenty-six (26)    S300 air defense complexes tonight. UKRAINE NOW HAS NO MORE AIR DEFENSES.

TONIGHT’S ATTACKS BY RUSSIA HAVE THE MOST Tu-95 BOMBERS IN THE AIR SINCE THE FALL OF THE SOVIET UNION.  Very large Russian attack.

UPDATE 9:21 PM EDT —

Reports now of Missile Launches from Russian Ships in the Black Sea as well.

ADDITIONAL Launch Commands are still being put out over the Russian Strategic Net.

********** BULLETIN ********

A large number of US Fighter Jets are taking off from Incirlik air base inside Turkey. 

Not known where they are going.

2023 05 02 09 45
2023 05 02 09 45

UPDATE 9:33 PM EDT —

Air Raid warning sirens now sounding in the red areas on the map of Ukraine below:

2023 05 02 09wr 35
2023 05 02 09wr 35

OF NOTE: Two US intelligence planes have taken off from NATO bases in Germany.

2023 05 02 09 46
2023 05 02 09 46

HMMMMMMM.   ALSO OF NOTE:  NATO AWACS taking off from Poland

2023 05 02 09 47
2023 05 02 09 47

DOUBLE HMMMMMM. Air-Refueling Tankers taking off from Ramstein AFB in Germany . . .

2023 05 02 09 48
2023 05 02 09 48

UPDATE 9:38 PM EDT —

New missiles are being fired from the Caspian Sea.

New Air Raid alert sounding in LVIV, western Ukraine, near Poland Border:

2023 05 02 09 49
2023 05 02 09 49

 

UPDATE 9:44 PM EDT —

Per Ukrainian officials, Missiles were detected in the airspace of Ukraine. They are urging everyone to get to shelter!

*****FLASH*****

RUSSIA IS NOW AGGRESSIVELY **JAMMING** OVER-THE-HORIZON RADAR THROUGHOUT **ALL** OF EUROPE.

ALSO: Launch Commands are still being put out over the Russian Strategic Net.

2023 05 02 09 50
2023 05 02 09 50

UPDATE 9:47 PM EDT —

Russian cruise missiles are on the way to central Ukraine. Kyiv is very likely to be targeted within the next 15-20 minutes.

Kyiv regional military administration: “Residents of Kyiv region! There is a threat of a missile attack”

UPDATE 9:55 PM EDT —

Missile launches reported from the Sea of Azov.

First explosion of the night; Dnipro

MORE:

Additional Missile Launches reported from Ships and Aircraft over the Sea of Azov and the Black Sea heading Northwest.

UPDATE 9:59 PM EDT —

Explosions in Kyiv!

Cruise missile detected over Kharkiv

More explosions heard in Dnipro.

Explosions heard in the suburbs of Kyiv

Explosions reported in Dnipropetrovsk oblast

UPDATE 10:52 PM EDT —

JETS WHICH TOOK-OFF FROM INCIRLIK IN TURKEY WERE **NOT** U.S., THEY WERE U.K, HEADING TO SYRIA.

 11:02 PM EDT — Attack appears to be over.    Live updates terminated.

Putin’s Bloody Missile Attack Is Horrifying | Col. Douglas Macgregor

Louisiana Barbecue Spaghetti

2023 04 19 15 12
2023 04 19 15 12

Ingredients

  • 1 pound spaghetti
  • 1 pound lean ground beef
  • 1 small can tomato paste
  • 1 cup barbecue sauce
  • 1 cup honey
  • Salt and pepper
  • Tony Chachere’s

Instructions

  1. Brown ground beef.
  2. Cook the spaghetti.
  3. Meanwhile, add tomato paste, barbecue sauce, honey, salt, pepper and Tony Chachere’s to the ground beef.
  4. Simmer over low heat for 15 minutes, then serve on top of spaghetti.

According to a recent report, Russia claimed to have developed an electronic warfare (EW) system that can jam satellites in geostationary orbit at an altitude of 36,000 kilometers.

main qimg a833726878723f80e12b796b138d74ad
main qimg a833726878723f80e12b796b138d74ad

“Enterprises of the Russian military-industrial complex have developed a new electronic warfare system capable of suppressing satellites in geostationary orbit with its signal. This is about 36,000 km above sea level,”

Without divulging any further details, the source added that at a shorter distance, the power of the emitter of the new system is capable of irreparable harm to the enemy’s electronics.

The revelation of the new Russian EW system came on the “Day of the Specialist in Electronic Warfare,” which is celebrated in Russian annually on April 15 to mark the occasion of the first combat use of electronic warfare on April 15, 1904, during the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905), when Russian radio stations interfered with Japanese radio operators during the defense of Port Arthur.

Russia demonstrated its anti-satellite capabilities in November 2021 by carrying out a direct ascent anti-satellite (ASAT) test in which it destroyed one of its satellites that had been in orbit since 1982.

The anti-satellite test showed Russia was “ready to deny us space capabilities to other players, even if it creates some debris,” said Major General Michel Friedling, head of France’s Space Command, in June last year. “And even if it denies, to [Russia, themselves] the use of space capabilities,” he continued.

Thereafter, in the weeks preceding Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, it launched a cyber-attack on a US-based communications company, Viasat, to cripple Ukrainian command and control, which relied on Viasat’s satellite terminal up to some extent.

The cyber-attack was very effective, as was acknowledged by the senior Ukrainian cybersecurity official, Victor Zhora, who said it caused “a huge loss in communications at the very beginning of the war.”

However, the fallout of this successful cyber-attack was wide-reaching, as thousands of internet users across Europe were also thrown offline. For example, in France, according to Orange, a French Telecom company, 9,000 subscribers of a satellite internet service provided by its subsidiary, Nordnet, were left without internet.

Similarly, around one-third of 40,000 subscribers of bigblu satellite internet service based in Germany, France, Hungary, Greece, Italy, and Poland, were affected by the attacks on the Viasat satellite network.

The outages also knocked offline nearly 5,800 wind turbines in Germany and Central Europe, with a combined output of 11 gigawatts.

So, overall, Russia already has formidable kinetic as well as non-kinetic anti-satellite capabilities, and the recent news about the development of an EW complex for jamming satellites can be considered a move toward further bolstering those capabilities.

Are Russian Claims True?

For this, Colonel Konstantinos Zikidis of the Hellenic Air Force (HAF), formerly a Deputy Commander at the HAF Telecomms and Electronics Depot (ETHM), to assess the viability of Russian claims, was consulted.

“In general, the term ‘electronic warfare’ encompasses support, protection, and attack, focused mainly on radar and IR systems. A satellite in geostationary orbit has an altitude of 35,786 kilometers, traveling at an orbital speed of 3.07 kilometers per second, although it seems stationary, as seen from Earth.

At such distances, using RF noise jamming or any High Power Microwave weapon would be meaningless,” Zikidis believes.

The only potential solution for attacking a GEO satellite, according to Zikidis, would be a directed-energy weapon in the form of a very high-energy laser.

“Right now, High Energy Laser (HEL) systems featuring an output power at the order of hundreds of kiloWatts have been tested, at least according to open sources, with megaWatt class systems expected in the near future,” he noted, citing reports of US HEL programs.

He also cited an academic paper written by experts from China’s HeFei University and the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), which mentions a US Army ground-based laser weapon system capable of reaching 10 MegaWatt (MW) and the power of airborne lasers (ABL) reaching MW.

The same paper also talks about Russian plans to develop a laser with a range of 40,000 kilometers to attack early warning satellites, noted Zikidis while cautioning against discarding Russian claims.

main qimg 735681ed6c64225fe3103cd984c49afe
main qimg 735681ed6c64225fe3103cd984c49afe

When asked about what impact such a HEL system would have, Zikidis explained that it would be rather difficult to estimate its possible effect against a GEO satellite as there are limitations to the performance of a laser system.

“Inside atmospheric conditions, the laser beam suffers from absorption and scattering, while there are some upper limits to the power density of the beam. On the other hand, he said that using a ground-based HEL system against a stationary target would have the benefit of time, allowing for a cumulative effect.

Food And Everyday Life Merge In Surreal Illustrations By Marumichi

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0 61 650×1267 1

Japanese illustrator Marumichi creates surreal illustrations in which food and everyday life merge together seamlessly. It’s as if a foodie went to bed stuffed and dreamed of food.

In one scene a soft serving of tofu doubles as a kotatsu, keeping warm its users who don’t know whether they want to fall asleep or eat. In another scene, a slice of watermelon doubles as a mosquito net in the summer, offering shelter to a young girl who is relaxing with a book and cool drink. These are all the surreal creations of Marumichi, a Tokyo-based illustrator who blends fantasy and food to create scrumptious compositions.

More: Twitter h/t: spoon&tamago

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Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva shakes hands with the new president of the New Development Bank (NDB), Dilma Rousseff, former Brazilian President, while attending her inauguration ceremony at the bank’s headquarters in Pudong, Shanghai, east China, April 13, 2023.

Amid increasing global economic uncertainty, the New Development Bank (NDB) — under new leadership — is set to further unleash its potential to support emerging economies and developing countries, and renew its commitment to sustainable development.

The Shanghai-headquartered bank, established by Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa (BRICS) in 2015, is aimed at mobilizing resources for infrastructure and sustainable development projects in BRICS and other emerging economies.

Dilma Rousseff, a well-known Brazilian politician and economist, on Thursday assumed office as the president of the multilateral institution. The former president of Brazil is expected to build upon the achievements of her predecessors and write a new chapter of South-South cooperation and global sustainable development.

In an interview with Xinhua, Rousseff said investing in infrastructure development, addressing social inequality, curbing climate change and meeting sustainable development goals will be the priorities during her term of office, while emphasizing the importance of local currency for financing.

The new NDB president said the bank can make contribution to fighting climate change and meeting the sustainable development goals, for instance, by investing in alternative energy sources.

The bank’s 2022-2026 General Strategy, approved by the board of governors last year, aims to provide 30 billion U.S. dollars over the next five years. Over this period, the bank will expand operations with the private sector, multiply development impact and direct 40 percent of its approvals to climate change mitigation and adaption.

“As a former President of Brazil, I know the importance of the work of multilateral banks to support developing countries, particularly the NDB, in addressing their economic, social and environmental needs,” Rousseff said at her inauguration ceremony in Shanghai Thursday.

Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, who attended Rousseff’s inauguration ceremony during a state visit to China, expressed his confidence in the bank’s promising future under the new leadership.

The bank has the qualities to become one of the largest banks for Southern countries, and has great potential in improving the situation of developing countries, Lula said.

With a seven-year-plus history, the bank has evolved from a start-up to a major provider of development solutions, with its project portfolio featuring investments in areas such as clean energy, urban mobility, water, sanitation, transport, social and digital infrastructure.

In July 2016, about one year after starting operations, the bank made its inaugural bond issuance — a green financial bond denominated in the Chinese currency renminbi (RMB) or yuan, worth of 3 billion yuan (449 million dollars). It was sold in China’s Interbank Bond Market.

Hailing the issuance as a milestone for the multilateral development bank, former NDB president K.V. Kamath said that it may help boost sustainable development and that it will support more clean and renewable energy use to reduce carbon emissions.

So far, the bank has approved 99 loan projects totaling more than 34 billion dollars, providing strong support for infrastructure construction and sustainable development of emerging markets and developing countries, Chinese Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Mao Ning said at a daily news briefing in late March.

BRICS, which is home to over 40 percent of the world’s population and accounts for about a quarter of the global economy, pursues openness, inclusiveness and win-win cooperation, as is demonstrated in its efforts to expand the NDB family.

In 2021, the bank initiated membership expansion and admitted Bangladesh, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and Uruguay as its new members, adding over 280 million people that can benefit from the bank’s mission and strengthening the bank’s global outreach.

Egyptian economics professor Fakhri al-Fiqi, also head of a relevant parliamentary committee, stressed that the bank is expected to become “a global financing platform,” especially for developing and emerging economies, which means that the door is open for emerging economies to join it and contribute to raising its capital.

“The New Development Bank is the product of a partnership among BRICS countries with a view to creating a world with less poverty, less inequality and more sustainability,” which is very different from the traditional banks dominated by developed countries, said Lula.

“For a long time, developing countries have had a dream to create their own investment and financing tools. The New Development Bank has realized such a dream, for it really knows what developing countries need and where they need to invest,” he said.

According to a recent report, Russia claimed to have developed an electronic warfare (EW) system that can jam satellites in geostationary orbit at an altitude of 36,000 kilometers.

2023 04 20 15 12 1
2023 04 20 15 12 1

“Enterprises of the Russian military-industrial complex have developed a new electronic warfare system capable of suppressing satellites in geostationary orbit with its signal. This is about 36,000 km above sea level,”

Without divulging any further details, the source added that at a shorter distance, the power of the emitter of the new system is capable of irreparable harm to the enemy’s electronics.

The revelation of the new Russian EW system came on the “Day of the Specialist in Electronic Warfare,” which is celebrated in Russian annually on April 15 to mark the occasion of the first combat use of electronic warfare on April 15, 1904, during the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905), when Russian radio stations interfered with Japanese radio operators during the defense of Port Arthur.

Russia demonstrated its anti-satellite capabilities in November 2021 by carrying out a direct ascent anti-satellite (ASAT) test in which it destroyed one of its satellites that had been in orbit since 1982.

The anti-satellite test showed Russia was “ready to deny us space capabilities to other players, even if it creates some debris,” said Major General Michel Friedling, head of France’s Space Command, in June last year. “And even if it denies, to [Russia, themselves] the use of space capabilities,” he continued.

Thereafter, in the weeks preceding Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, it launched a cyber-attack on a US-based communications company, Viasat, to cripple Ukrainian command and control, which relied on Viasat’s satellite terminal up to some extent.

The cyber-attack was very effective, as was acknowledged by the senior Ukrainian cybersecurity official, Victor Zhora, who said it caused “a huge loss in communications at the very beginning of the war.”

However, the fallout of this successful cyber-attack was wide-reaching, as thousands of internet users across Europe were also thrown offline. For example, in France, according to Orange, a French Telecom company, 9,000 subscribers of a satellite internet service provided by its subsidiary, Nordnet, were left without internet.

Similarly, around one-third of 40,000 subscribers of bigblu satellite internet service based in Germany, France, Hungary, Greece, Italy, and Poland, were affected by the attacks on the Viasat satellite network.

The outages also knocked offline nearly 5,800 wind turbines in Germany and Central Europe, with a combined output of 11 gigawatts.

So, overall, Russia already has formidable kinetic as well as non-kinetic anti-satellite capabilities, and the recent news about the development of an EW complex for jamming satellites can be considered a move toward further bolstering those capabilities.

Are Russian Claims True?

For this, Colonel Konstantinos Zikidis of the Hellenic Air Force (HAF), formerly a Deputy Commander at the HAF Telecomms and Electronics Depot (ETHM), to assess the viability of Russian claims, was consulted.

“In general, the term ‘electronic warfare’ encompasses support, protection, and attack, focused mainly on radar and IR systems. A satellite in geostationary orbit has an altitude of 35,786 kilometers, traveling at an orbital speed of 3.07 kilometers per second, although it seems stationary, as seen from Earth.

At such distances, using RF noise jamming or any High Power Microwave weapon would be meaningless,” Zikidis believes.

The only potential solution for attacking a GEO satellite, according to Zikidis, would be a directed-energy weapon in the form of a very high-energy laser.

“Right now, High Energy Laser (HEL) systems featuring an output power at the order of hundreds of kiloWatts have been tested, at least according to open sources, with megaWatt class systems expected in the near future,” he noted, citing reports of US HEL programs.

He also cited an academic paper written by experts from China’s HeFei University and the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), which mentions a US Army ground-based laser weapon system capable of reaching 10 MegaWatt (MW) and the power of airborne lasers (ABL) reaching MW.

The same paper also talks about Russian plans to develop a laser with a range of 40,000 kilometers to attack early warning satellites, noted Zikidis while cautioning against discarding Russian claims.

2023 04 20 15 19
2023 04 20 15 19

When asked about what impact such a HEL system would have, Zikidis explained that it would be rather difficult to estimate its possible effect against a GEO satellite as there are limitations to the performance of a laser system.

“Inside atmospheric conditions, the laser beam suffers from absorption and scattering, while there are some upper limits to the power density of the beam. On the other hand, he said that using a ground-based HEL system against a stationary target would have the benefit of time, allowing for a cumulative effect.

Ah

Chinese Food that the rest of the world knows is NOT the Food that Chinese eat

Egg Rolls, Foo Yung, General Tsos Chicken etc is what is available in all these Chinese Restaurants in US while Chowmein, Egg Rolls, Fried Rice, Hakka Noodles, Chilly Chicken is what we associate with Chinese Food in India.

In Reality Chinese Food is a Lot of Vegetables stewed and boiled and cooked with sauces, Very Small helpings of Pork and Fish , a Lot of Tofu, Rice, A Soup

2023 04 20 15 23
2023 04 20 15 23

This is more or less the Noodles Chinese Consume.

The Noodles have mainly soup and vegetables and fish balls and tofu (soy) and sauces

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2023 04 20 15d 23

These are Noodles that sell in Commercial outlets as Chinese Foods

Heavier Rice Noodles, Lots of Oil, Shrimp, Chicken, Onions, MSG (Aginomoto)

This is not what the Chinese eat every day even though its branded as Chinese food.


So thats why Chinese arent morbidly obese

They eat primarily steamed or boiled or lightly grilled or stir fried foods primarily containing Rice, Tofu and Greens and Mushrooms with Pork and Seafood

All healthy foods high on protein and lower in Carbs and definitely lower in fats

AND POTATOES? THEY ARE NON EXISTENT IN CHINESE CUISINE YET CHILLY HONEY POTATOES WAS ZOMATOS #1 SELLING CHINESE SIDE DISH AMONG VEGETARIANS

MAJOR TRAIN DERAILMENT – WISCONSIN – HAZ MAT INTO MISSISSIPPI RIVER

A major train derailment has taken place in Ferryville, Wisconsin, that sent numerous train cars plummeting into the waters of the Mississippi River.   If the Haz Mat releases, it could pollute the ENTIRE River for its full length inside the USA.

Emergency crews, including Hazmat teams, have responded to the derailment in Ferryville, Wisconsin.

Four people have been injured and multiple train cars have fallen into the Mississippi River.

It is currently unknown what’s inside the cars but reports are saying there might be a paint and lithium batteries in some of the train cars.

All local sand/gravel trucks are being sent in to help.

This area has suffered record setting Mississippi river floods recently, which are ONGOING.

According to locals, the rails washed out in front of the train which then derailed and dumped into the river.

Two rail cars washed down stream.

A local spokesman said lithium cars didn’t tip into the river — yet.

At this time of year, the river is usually at 8′, but now it is at almost 25′.

Bloomberg has an article on the growing unpopularity of the US:

Former Treasury Secretary Lawrence Summers warned of “troubling” signs that the US is losing global influence as other powers align together and win favor among nations not yet aligned. . . .

“Somebody from a developing country said to me, ‘what we get from China is an airport. What we get from the United States is a lecture,’” said Summers, a Harvard University professor and paid contributor to Bloomberg TV.

Obviously, lecturing other countries is not the best way to win friends and influence people. Better to lead by example. But it’s actually far worse than Summers suggests.

Over the past 4 decades, many if not most of our “lectures” have been US officials arrogantly telling less developed nations (and even developed places) that they needed to follow the “Washington Consensus”. You remember the Washington Consensus, the idea that countries should refrain from protectionism and industrial policies.

Now the US has abandoned the Washington Consensus and decided to go all in with protectionism and industrial policy. And that’s because we supposedly need to do this to keep from falling behind. But weren’t we told that these policies slow economic development?

It’s annoying when you get lectured to by more successful countries. It’s especially annoying then the lecture comes from self righteous societies that don’t follow their own advice. Is it any wonder that developing countries have lost respect for the US government.

I have too.

US officials scramble to slow China’s advances

Beijing’s diplomatic and business gains this year have been so great as to prompt panic in Washington

The US is bidding to build a chip ban alliance against China. Image: Twitter

It was the ultimate chip war that never was: German officials denied that Berlin planned to stop exporting specialty chemicals for chip fabrication, Reuters reported on April 27 – a day after Bloomberg News claimed that the government of Olaf Scholz “was in talks” on the subject, presumably under prodding from Washington. The stock prices of BASF and Solvay, the largest makers of the specialty products, plunged on Thursday after the Bloomberg report appeared but recovered sharply on Friday after the government’s denial. More than a dozen chemicals including acids, bases and solvents are indispensable to etching microcircuits onto silicon wafers, and an interruption of supplies would cripple China’s fabrication capacity.

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State of decay across the UK

The Rise of China (and the Fall of the U.S.?)

By Alfred McCoy, a historian and educator. He is the Fred Harvey Harrington Professor of History at the University of Wisconsin–Madison and author of To Govern the Globe: World Orders and Catastrophic Change. Originally published at TomDispatch.

From the ashes of a world war that killed 80 million people and reduced great cities to smoking rubble, America rose like a Titan of Greek legend, unharmed and armed with extraordinary military and economic power, to govern the globe.

During four years of combat against the Axis leaders in Berlin and Tokyo that raged across the planet, America’s wartime commanders — George Marshall in Washington, Dwight D. Eisenhower in Europe, and Chester Nimitz in the Pacific — knew that their main strategic objective was to gain control over the vast Eurasian landmass.

Whether you’re talking about desert warfare in North Africa, the D-Day landing at Normandy, bloody battles on the Burma-India border, or the island-hopping campaign across the Pacific, the Allied strategy in World War II involved constricting the reach of the Axis powers globally and then wresting that very continent from their grasp.

That past, though seemingly distant, is still shaping the world we live in.

Those legendary generals and admirals are, of course, long gone, but the geopolitics they practiced at such a cost still has profound implications. For just as Washington encircled Eurasia to win a great war and global hegemony, so Beijing is now involved in a far less militarized reprise of that reach for global power.

And to be blunt, these days, China’s gain is America’s loss.

Every step Beijing takes to consolidate its control over Eurasia simultaneously weakens Washington’s presence on that strategic continent and so erodes its once formidable global power.

A Cold War Strategy

After four embattled years imbibing lessons about geopolitics with their morning coffee and bourbon nightcaps, America’s wartime generation of generals and admirals understood, intuitively, how to respond to the future alliance of the two great communist powers in Moscow and Beijing.

In 1948, following his move from the Pentagon to Foggy Bottom, Secretary of State George Marshall launched the $13 billion Marshall Plan to rebuild a war-torn Western Europe, laying the economic foundations for the formation of the NATO alliance just a year later.

After a similar move from the wartime Allied headquarters in London to the White House in 1953, President Dwight D. Eisenhower helped complete a chain of military bastions along Eurasia’s Pacific littoral by signing a series of mutual-security pacts — with South Korea in 1953, Taiwan in 1954, and Japan in 1960. For the next 70 years, that island chain would serve as the strategic hinge on Washington’s global power, critical for both the defense of North America and dominance over Eurasia.

After fighting to conquer much of that vast continent during World War II, America’s postwar leaders certainly knew how to defend their gains. For more than 40 years, their unrelenting efforts to dominate Eurasia assured Washington of an upper hand and, in the end, victory over the Soviet Union in the Cold War. To constrain the communist powers inside that continent, the U.S. ringed its 6,000 miles with 800 military bases, thousands of jet fighters, and three massive naval armadas — the 6th Fleet in the Atlantic, the 7th Fleet in the Indian Ocean and the Pacific, and, somewhat later, the 5th Fleet in the Persian Gulf.

Thanks to diplomat George Kennan, that strategy gained the name “containment” and, with it, Washington could, in effect, sit back and wait while the Sino-Soviet bloc imploded through diplomatic blunder and military misadventure. After the Beijing-Moscow split of 1962 and China’s subsequent collapse into the chaos of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution, the Soviet Union tried repeatedly, if unsuccessfully, to break out of its geopolitical isolation — in the Congo, Cuba, Laos, Egypt, Ethiopia, Angola, and Afghanistan. In the last and most disastrous of those interventions, which Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev came to term “the bleeding wound,” the Red Army deployed 110,000 soldiers for nine years of brutal Afghan combat, hemorrhaging money and manpower in ways that would contribute to the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991.

In that heady moment of seeming victory as the sole superpower left on planet Earth, a younger generation of Washington foreign-policy leaders, trained not on battlefields but in think tanks, took little more than a decade to let that unprecedented global power start to slip away. Toward the close of the Cold War era in 1989, Francis Fukuyama, an academic working in the State Department’s policy planning unit, won instant fame among Washington insiders with his seductive phrase “the end of history.” He argued that America’s liberal world order would soon sweep up all of humanity on an endless tide of capitalist democracy. As he put it in a much-cited essay: “The triumph of the West, of the Western idea, is evident… in the total exhaustion of viable systemic alternatives to Western liberalism… seen also in the ineluctable spread of consumerist Western culture.”

The Invisible Power of Geopolitics

Amid such triumphalist rhetoric, Zbigniew Brzezinski, another academic sobered by more worldly experience, reflected on what he had learned about geopolitics during the Cold War as an adviser to two presidents, Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan. In his 1997 book The Grand Chessboard, Brzezinski offered the first serious American study of geopolitics in more than half a century. In the process, he warned that the depth of U.S. global hegemony, even at this peak of unipolar power, was inherently “shallow.”

For the United States and, he added, every major power of the past 500 years, Eurasia, home to 75% of the world’s population and productivity, was always “the chief geopolitical prize.” To perpetuate its “preponderance on the Eurasian continent” and so preserve its global power, Washington would, he warned, have to counter three threats: “the expulsion of America from its offshore bases” along the Pacific littoral; ejection from its “perch on the western periphery” of the continent provided by NATO; and finally, the formation of “an assertive single entity” in the sprawling center of Eurasia.

Arguing for Eurasia’s continued post-Cold War centrality, Brzezinski drew heavily on the work of a long-forgotten British academic, Sir Halford Mackinder. In a 1904 essay that sparked the modern study of geopolitics, Mackinder observed that, for the past 500 years, European imperial powers had dominated Eurasia from the sea, but the construction of trans-continental railroads was shifting the locus of control to its vast interior “heartland.” In 1919, in the wake of World War I, he also argued that Eurasia, along with Africa, formed a massive “world island” and offered this bold geopolitical formula: “Who rules the Heartland commands the World Island; Who rules the World Island commands the World.” Clearly, Mackinder was about 100 years premature in his predictions.

But today, by combining Mackinder’s geopolitical theory with Brzezinski’s gloss on global politics, it’s possible to discern, in the confusion of this moment, some potential long-term trends. Imagine Mackinder-style geopolitics as a deep substrate that shapes more ephemeral political events, much the way the slow grinding of the planet’s tectonic plates becomes visible when volcanic eruptions break through the earth’s surface. Now, let’s try to imagine what all this means in terms of international geopolitics today.

China’s Geopolitical Gambit

In the decades since the Cold War’s close, China’s increasing control over Eurasia clearly represents a fundamental change in that continent’s geopolitics. Convinced that Beijing would play the global game by U.S. rules, Washington’s foreign policy establishment made a major strategic miscalculation in 2001 by admitting it to the World Trade Organization (WTO). “Across the ideological spectrum, we in the U.S. foreign policy community,” confessed two former members of the Obama administration, “shared the underlying belief that U.S. power and hegemony could readily mold China to the United States’ liking… All sides of the policy debate erred.” In little more than a decade after it joined the WTO, Beijing’s annual exports to the U.S. grew nearly five-fold and its foreign currency reserves soared from just $200 billion to an unprecedented $4 trillion by 2013.

In 2013, drawing on those vast cash reserves, China’s new president, Xi Jinping, launched a trillion-dollar infrastructure initiative to transform Eurasia into a unified market. As a steel grid of rails and petroleum pipelines began crisscrossing the continent, China ringed the tri-continental world island with a chain of 40 commercial ports — from Sri Lanka in the Indian Ocean, around Africa’s coast, to Europe from Piraeus, Greece, to Hamburg, Germany. In launching what soon became history’s largest development project, 10 times the size of the Marshall Plan, Xi is consolidating Beijing’s geopolitical dominance over Eurasia, while fulfilling Brzezinski’s fear of the rise of “an assertive single entity” in Central Asia.

Unlike the U.S., China hasn’t spent significant effort establishing military bases. While Washington still maintains some 750 of them in 80 nations, Beijing has just one military base in Djibouti on the east African coast, a signals intercept post on Myanmar’s Coco Islands in the Bay of Bengal, a compact installation in eastern Tajikistan, and half a dozen small outposts in the South China Sea.

Moreover, while Beijing was focused on building Eurasian infrastructure, Washington was fighting two disastrous wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in a strategically inept bid to dominate the Middle East and its oil reserves (just as the world was beginning to transition away from petroleum to renewable energy). In contrast, Beijing has concentrated on the slow, stealthy accretion of investments and influence across Eurasia from the South China Sea to the North Sea. By changing the continent’s underlying geopolitics through this commercial integration, it’s winning a level of control not seen in the last thousand years, while unleashing powerful forces for political change.

Tectonic Shifts Shake U.S. Power

After a decade of Beijing’s relentless economic expansion across Eurasia, the tectonic shifts in that continent’s geopolitical substrate have begun to manifest themselves in a series of diplomatic eruptions, each erasing another aspect of U.S. influence. Four of the more recent ones might seem, at first glance, unrelated but are all driven by the relentless force of geopolitical change.

First came the sudden, unexpected collapse of the U.S. position in Afghanistan, forcing Washington to end its 20-year occupation in August 2021 with a humiliating withdrawal. In a slow, stealthy geopolitical squeeze play, Beijing had signed massive development deals with all the surrounding Central Asian nations, leaving American troops isolated there. To provide critical air support for its infantry, U.S. jet fighters were often forced to fly 2,000 miles from their nearest base in the Persian Gulf — an unsustainable long-term situation and unsafe for troops on the ground. As the U.S.-trained Afghan Army collapsed and Taliban guerrillas drove into Kabul atop captured Humvees, the chaotic U.S. retreat in defeat became unavoidable.

Just six months later in February 2022, President Vladimir Putin massed an armada of armored vehicles loaded with 200,000 troops on Ukraine’s border. If Putin is to be believed, his “special military operation” was to be a bid to undermine NATO’s influence and weaken the Western alliance — one of Brzezinski’s conditions for the U.S. eviction from Eurasia.

But first Putin visited Beijing to court President Xi’s support, a seemingly tall order given China’s decades of lucrative trade with the United States, worth a mind-boggling $500 billion in 2021. Yet Putin scored a joint declaration that the two nations’ relations were “superior to political and military alliances of the Cold War era” and a denunciation of “the further expansion of NATO.”

As it happened, Putin did so at a perilous price. Instead of attacking Ukraine in frozen February when his tanks could have maneuvered off-road on their way to the Ukrainian capital Kyiv, he had to wait out Beijing’s Winter Olympics. So, Russian troops invaded instead in muddy March, leaving his armored vehicles stuck in a 40-mile traffic jam on a single highway where the Ukrainians readily destroyed more than 1,000 tanks. Facing diplomatic isolation and European trade embargos as his defeated invasion degenerated into a set of vengeful massacres, Moscow shifted much of its exports to China. That quickly raised bilateral trade by 30% to an all-time high, while reducing Russia to but another piece on Beijing’s geopolitical chessboard.

Then, just last month, Washington found itself diplomatically marginalized by an utterly unexpected resolution of the sectarian divide that had long defined the politics of the Middle East. After signing a $400-billion infrastructure deal with Iran and making Saudi Arabia its top oil supplier, Beijing was well positioned to broker a major diplomatic rapprochement between those bitter regional rivals, Shia Iran and Sunni Saudi Arabia. Within weeks, the foreign ministers of the two nations sealed the deal with a deeply symbolic voyage to Beijing — a bittersweet reminder of the days not long ago when Arab diplomats paid court in Washington.

Finally, the Biden administration was stunned this month when Europe’s preeminent leader, Emmanuel Macron of France, visited Beijing for a series of intimate tête-à-tête chats with China’s President Xi. At the close of that extraordinary journey, which won French companies billions in lucrative contracts, Macron announced “a global strategic partnership with China” and promised he would not “take our cue from the U.S. agenda” over Taiwan. A spokesman for the Élysée Palace quickly released a pro forma clarification that “the United States is our ally, with shared values.” Even so, Macron’s Beijing declaration reflected both his own long-term vision of the European Union as an independent strategic player and that bloc’s ever-closer economic ties to China

The Future of Geopolitical Power

Projecting such political trends a decade into the future, Taiwan’s fate would seem, at best, uncertain. Instead of the “shock and awe” of aerial bombardments, Washington’s default mode of diplomatic discourse in this century, Beijing prefers stealthy, sedulous geopolitical pressure. In building its island bases in the South China Sea, for example, it inched forward incrementally — first dredging, then building structures, next runways, and finally emplacing anti-aircraft missiles — in the process avoiding any confrontation over its functional capture of an entire sea.

Lest we forget, Beijing has built its formidable economic-political-military power in little more than a decade. If its strength continues to increase inside Eurasia’s geopolitical substrate at even a fraction of that head-spinning pace for another decade, it may be able to execute a deft geopolitical squeeze-play on Taiwan like the one that drove the U.S. out of Afghanistan. Whether from a customs embargo, incessant naval patrols, or some other form of pressure, Taiwan might just fall quietly into Beijing’s grasp.

Should such a geopolitical gambit prevail, the U.S. strategic frontier along the Pacific littoral would be broken, possibly pushing its Navy back to a “second island chain” from Japan to Guam — the last of Brzezinski’s criteria for the true waning of U.S. global power. In that event, Washington’s leaders could once again find themselves sitting on the proverbial diplomatic and economic sidelines, wondering how it all happened.

 

The changes are irreversible, and unstoppable…

You know what?

The USA is collapsing, and screaming as it dies. And the troll sharks are in a feeding frenzy, and they attack all of us what say anything outside the approved narrative.

I don’t care.

Die.

I don’t care.

Die. Go away. Fall apart.

There is nothing that I can do to save, change or accelerate the process. It’s over.

That’s my feelings.


Today’s article…

Wow! What a bombshell!

Chancellor of Germany.

I pray to God Almighty to keep this man safe. Initially, he was soft under pressure of the world hegemon, but he has now redeemed himself as one who is righteous. God bless him!

Abandoning the US, more scientists go to China

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The Organisation for Economic Co‐operation and Development (OECD) — an intergovernmental organization with 38 member countries — has published new data showing that the United States is losing the race for scientific talent to China and other countries. China’s strategy to recruit scientific researchers to work at China‐affiliated universities is working, CATO Institute informs.

In 2021, the United States lost published research scientists to other countries, while China gained more than 2,408 scientific authors. This was a remarkable turnaround from as recently as 2017 when the United States picked up 4,292 scientists and China picked up just 116.

The OECD credits more Chinese scientists returning to China for the sudden reversal in Chinese and American inflows.

This is a disturbing trend that started before the pandemic. In fact, it appears to coincide with the Trump administration’s “China Initiative” — more accurately titled the anti‐Chinese initiative.

Launched in November 2018, the Department of Justice’s campaign was supposed to combat the overblown threat of intellectual property theft and espionage. In reality, it involved repeatedly intimidating institutions that employed scientists of Chinese heritage and attempting malicious failed prosecutions of scientists who worked with institutions in China.

U.S. Attorney Andrew E. Lelling has even admitted that the initiative that he helped lead “created a climate of fear among researchers” and now says, “You don’t want people to be scared of collaboration.”

If Chinese scientists are afraid to work in the United States, that means that the United States will not benefit from their discoveries as much or as quickly as China will.

Although the Justice Department claims to have shut down its “China Initiative,” my colleagues doubt that Chinese scientists will be free from unjust scrutiny going forward. The U.S. National Institutes of Health is still bragging about having caused the firings of more than 100 scientists and shutting down research by over 150 scientists — over 80 percent of whom identify as ‘Asian’.

The administration continues to maintain contrary to evidence that Chinese industrial espionage — by scientists working in the United States — is a significant threat to the country. Universities and U.S. companies think the far greater threat is losing out on talented Chinese researchers.

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3600 Pounds of GOLD BULLION Stolen from Canada Airport

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2023 04 21 11 43
2023 04 21 11 43

Police in Toronto and surrounding areas are going berserk looking for 3,600 pounds of Gold Bullion that was STOLEN from Pearson Airport in Toronto, Ontario. The Gold is said to be worth over US$100 Million.

The Royal Canadian Mounted Police confirmed they are looking into a gold robbery at Pearson International Airport. Gold mined in Canada can travel through Pearson on its way to customers around the world.

The airport did not respond to a request for comment. Peel Regional Police, who are responsible for the area, asked for the Mounties’ help, the RCMP said.

The Toronto Sun reported earlier Thursday that 3,600 pounds of gold being moved through the airport had been stolen. The newspaper said the theft was likely linked to organized crime.

Southeast Asia wants business and investments, they want to make money for their countries, US is offering politics not business. China is offering business not politics. China offers free trade agreements, US doesn’t.

All you are thinking about and offering are politics, competition and conflicts, try business, free trade deals, investments, you’ll do better.

People loved Americans because they offered prosperity, now all they talk about is politics. They came empty handed and left empty handed. They don’t want free handout or charity, they want business.

THIS IS WILL BE WW3, NATO is finished! with Clayton Morris

The bunker wad made in USSR times, so Russia has it’s exact specifics – it is heavy fortified bunker, built to withstand direct nuclear impact.

Located 120 meters under the ground it had 8 meters concrete sealing + 1m of lead. Kinzhal has few known modifications and the one that destroyed the bunker was using kinetic / compression energy.

It’s claimed to be able to penetrate 30+ meters of concrete, so basically there is no place you can hide from it.

Here you can see how it flies and hear “explosion” , which in fact is the sound of it, due to it’s top speeds mach 10-12.

Also you can notice the glow, which surrounds the rocket – it’s plasma field, which makes it untraceable, not to mention that even if you detect it – there’s nothing faster to intercept it.

https://youtu.be/JCIpWxsHW5I

‘Catastrophic’ Collapse in American Standard of Living Incoming As Global De-Dollarization Takes Hold: Economist

dollar’s share of global reserves falling from 73% in 2001 to 47% in 2021.

Economist Peter St Onge just issued a major warning on the fate of the US dollar and the quality of life in America.

In a new market update, St Onge says widespread de-dollarization is not a fear for the future.

Instead, the economist says a “stunning collapse” is already well underway, with the dollar’s share of global reserves falling from 73% in 2001 to 47% in 2021.

St Onge says American sanctions are now fueling the flame, citing the fact that the US froze $300 billion in Russian central bank dollars after the country instigated war with Ukraine.

He believes a global realization of the sanctions risk is leading nations to further move away from the dollar and towards alternative stores of value, such as gold and the euro.

Article HERE

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Cajun Chicken Spaghetti

cajun chicken spaghetti squash bake stir 1
cajun chicken spaghetti squash bake stir 1

Ingredients

  • 1 pound butter, divided
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 6 cups chopped onion, divided
  • 7 tablespoons Cajun seasonings, divided
  • 5 cups water
  • 2 1/2 tablespoons chicken base
  • 4 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 2 tablespoons Tabasco sauce or to taste
  • 2 (15 ounce) cans tomato sauce
  • 2 (12 ounce) cans tomato paste
  • 4 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 10 chicken breast halves, skinned, de-boned and cut into bite-size pieces

Instructions

  1. Melt half the butter in a large heavy skillet. Add the garlic and 2 cups of the onion and sauté 5 minutes.
  2. Stir in 3 tablespoons of the Cajun seasonings and simmer for 10 minutes.
  3. Add the water, chicken base, Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco sauce and simmer for 6 minutes.
  4. Add the tomato sauce and tomato paste. Bring to a boil and add the sugar and 2 more cups of the onions. Reduce heat and simmer for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  5. Coat chicken pieces with remaining Cajun seasonings.
  6. Melt remaining butter. Add the rest of the onions and sauté for 3 minutes.
  7. Add chicken and cook for 10 minutes or until tender.
  8. Stir chicken into sauce and serve over pasta (hot cooked spaghetti or linguine).

Zelensky is FINISHED and Biden knows it

Europe approves its $47 billion answer to Biden’s CHIPS Act

Apparently, Europe chip act removed all those conditions imposed by US chip act thinking they will be able to complete with US to win over investments. 

This is the beginning of dogs fighting dog, while China already making stage by stage breakthrough in home based chip manufacturing. 

Who will win the chip War when even the US, South korea, and Holland chip industrial reported massive sales dropped and stock crushed due to sanctioned against China ❗

From the way the Chinese handle competition based on self improvement and self reliance vs. the imperialist crusader's DNA nations of US and EU to simply sanctioned their competition, and looted other technology, it is not hard to tell why China able to lead the world for thousands of years before the 1840 opium war, and is already managed to self revive and lead the world against in all aspect very soon. 

The me-only crusader DNA nations need culture reform to earn to live well without war, Bullying, and looting.

Article HERE

European Chips Act

Full Text

US Dollar Suffering ‘Stunning Collapse’, Losing Reserve Status Due to Currency Weaponization: Report – The Daily Hodl

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The US dollar’s global supremacy is reportedly eroding at an exponential rate, with countries backing away after witnessing how America used USD to impose sanctions against Russia.

In a new Bloomberg report, Stephen Jen and Joana Freire of asset management firm Eurizon SLJ Capital reveal that in 2022, the US dollar’s market share in global reserves plunged 10 times its average speed of the past 20 years.

Considering the fluctuations in exchange rates, the dollar lost about 11% of its market share since 2016 and twice that amount since 2008.

Jen and Freire say in an investor note that countries located in Asia, Latin America, Africa, the Carribean and the Pacific Islands – collectively known as the Global South – are shedding their dollar reserves as they look for an alternative to avoid sharing Russia’s fate.

“The dollar suffered a stunning collapse in 2022 in its market share as a reserve currency, presumably due to its muscular use of sanctions. Exceptional actions taken by the US and its allies against Russia have startled large reserve-holding countries.”…

Article HERE

Jeffrey Sachs Interview – China Pushes Back Against US Foreign Policy

“Reality Called. I Hang Up”: Hilariously Offensive Greeting Cards by Bluntcard

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Bluntcard is a branded style of image and humor. The humor style is often truthful, abrupt, and can be insensitive. Mostly dealing with social issues, self absorption, hypocrisy and sometimes current events. Bluntcards are virtual greeting cards to be shared on the web.

More: Bluntcard, Instagram

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Battle Scene from Downfall

Cajun Chicken Alfredo

2023 04 19 14 47a
2023 04 19 14 47a

Ingredients

  • 3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • 1 bag fettuccine or penne pasta
  • Louisiana Cajun spice
  • 1 jar Alfredo sauce
  • Chopped green onions (garnish)
  • Diced tomato (optional garnish)

Instructions

  1. Season chicken breasts with Louisiana Cajun Spice generously, then season with garlic powder.
  2. Pour 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a frying pan and cook chicken until done.
  3. Boil pasta until done, then strain and add Alfredo sauce.
  4. Slice cooked chicken into 1 inch cubes.
  5. Put pasta mixture on a plate, and add diced chicken.
  6. Garnish with chopped green onions and tomatoes, if desired.

https://youtu.be/S7OmVnpfayc

Declan Hayes
April 20, 2023

Whether the Chinese want to eat them, use them as lab rats or put them into zoos, the sheer scale of this order shows that China is now a major player in the monkey business.

The news that Sri Lanka may export over 100,000 monkeys to China is another dagger to the Yankee dollar’s heart. Before moving on to other exotic exports from other exotic countries, let’s first put this monkey business to bed.

Sri Lanka’s economy, like her monkeys’ habitats, is in pieces. Sri Lanka needs every penny, every pound, every yen, every yuan she can scrape together. And, as macaque monkeys go for between $4,000 to $8,000 apiece, Sri Lanka is looking to gross between $400,000,000 and $800,000,000 for this exotic trade of a primate which is regarded as a pest throughout large swatches of Sri Lanka.

The trade in monkeys is big business, with the United States importing almost 500,000 of them for a variety of reasons (culinary, labs, zoos etc) in recent years. And whether the Chinese want to eat them, use them as lab rats or put them into zoos, the sheer scale of this order shows that China is now a major player in the monkey business.

If this was a once off trade or if Sri Lanka and China were not going to continue to be trading partners, it might make sense for China to pay in Yankee dollars, which Sri Lanka could then use to buy goods from one of its trading partners, China included. But, as China and Sri Lanka will forever remain major trading partners, the demand for yuan in Colombo and rupees in Shanghai will continue to grow.

Because the Sri Lankan rupee is an exotic currency for which there is only patchy overseas’ demand, the danger has been that China’s monkey importers would be loath to accept rupees as they are much harder to offload than the Yankee dollar. This problem can be seen more clearly with the 1997 passing of the late Princess Diana of Wales when the unprecedented demand for flowers to throw at her casket meant that Dutch traders (guilder/euro) were importing them wholesale from as far afield as Kenya (shilling) and Tanzania (shilling) to on-sell to the English (pound sterling). Far easier to take those currencies out of the frame and just count the resulting huge profits in one currency, the Yankee dollar, which would otherwise not be in the frame at all.

Complicating things further, the Sri Lankan rupee is a closed currency, which means it is not available to buy or sell outside of Sri Lanka. whose Central Bank is charged with stabilising it. As remittances from overseas Sri Lankans (down 20%) and tourist revenue (down 90%) both took massive hits from the Covid lockdown, the Central Bank’s job become much harder and desperate measures, such as curtailing the import of fertilisers, backfired badly on the ordinary Sri Lankan. Sri Lanka’s Central Bank really has its work cut out so much that if 100,000 macaque monkeys have to take it in the neck for Team Sri Lanka, so be it. As Sri Lanka’s annual debt service costs now run to over U.S.$10 billion, Sri Lanka cannot max out its national credit card any more but must think of new ways, like the mass export of monkeys, to tackle this crisis.

When Brazil’s President Lula recently rhetorically asked in Shanghai “why all countries have to base their trade on the dollar… why can’t we do trade based on our own currencies?”, Sri Lanka and many of his Latin American neighbours such as Argentina and Mexico supply much of the answer. The currencies of Mexico, Argentina, Sri Lanka and Brazil itself are known in the trade as exotic currencies, which are relatively minor in international commerce but whose resulting thinness and spread yields abnormally large profits for the British and American financial institutions who trade them.

When Brazil’s President Lula went on to rhetorically ask “Who was it that decided that the dollar was the currency after the disappearance of the gold standard?”, the answer is that the Americans decided that beginning at Bretton Woods, where the Brazilian and other delegations there were in no position to argue the converse. When Brazil’s President Lula then went on to rhetorically ask “Why can’t a bank like that of the Brics have a currency to finance trade relations between Brazil and China, between Brazil and other countries?”, the reason has as much to do with Sri Lankan monkeys as it has with monkey economics.

Quite simply, the Americans reaped the benefits of the Second World War much more than anyone else. The dollar replaced the pound sterling as the global reserve currency of choice as part of America’s campaign to achieve hegemony even during the Second World War when British backs were very much up against the wall and when, as a consequence, the pound sterling was under intense strain.

Although the paper notes the Bank of England issues promises to give the bearer one pound of sterling (92.5%) silver for every single note held, that is no longer the case. However, as long as credibility in the Bank of England and related central banks holds and people accept those pieces of paper, that is not really an issue and trade in these IOUs can continue more or less as before.

It is that credibility rather than the paper itself which is the Coin of the Realm, not only in England but in America, China and Sri Lanka as well. Having that credibility brings immense benefits to the Yanks, the Brits, the Swiss, the Japanese and the Germans and Dutch who are at the heart of the euro. If the Chinese (not, please note the Brazilians) can elbow their way into that happy circle, they will be well pleased with themselves. If they can get the Sri Lankans to take Chinese yuan rather than Yankee dollars for their monkeys, well then that is good news for both China and Sri Lanka.

And, of course, bad news for the Yanks, who have traditionally benefited immensely from all this. There is currently over $2,000 billion Yankee dollars, IOUs in circulation, with between 25% and 60% of that amount held outside of the U.S. If the Sri Lankans can strike a deal in yuan for their monkeys, then they can use some of their precious Yankee reserves for other purposes, much as Japan did in its leanest post war years, when it started to export guitars, sewing machines and bicycles in exchange for much-needed Yankee dollars.

America’s financial power goes much further than that, as the trade in American debt instruments is enormous and trade in gold derivatives is, by and large, a proxy for American interest rates, which determine the value of those debt instruments, which were historically considered a safe haven by Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and Russia, which has been criminally and systematically robbed by the Yanks and their west European vassals over the last year.

The dollar’s status as a reserve currency allows the Yanks to print an almost unlimited amount of dollars without suffering hyperinflation, something that is biting at the heels of Sri Lanka’s Central Bank and which the Central Banks of Mexico, Argentina and, of course, Germany are no strangers to.

As long as the Yankee dollar is the reserve currency of choice, Uncle Sam can simply print more greenbacks, more IOUs and trade them for Arab oil or Japanese cars. The only other countries that can exchange their dubious currencies for tangible goods are those, like the West Europeans, who can get an American swap line, allowing them to trade their IOUs (euros or pounds) for Yankee dollars. Sri Lanka, to take the obvious example, can no longer do that. Without a swap line to the Yanks or its Bretton Woods frontmen, printing more money devalues the currency and, as Latin America, Sri Lanka and Germany know all too well, causes inflation and the societal problems ensuing from it.

Not only has Lula’s Bric currency no prospect of replacing the Yankee dollar in the short term but there is no prospect of that happening over the longer term either. What is happening is that the Chinese yuan, the Russian rouble and other second tier currencies are pushing the dollar and allied currencies out of areas, such as the trade in Russian oil and Sri Lankan monkeys, they are not needed in.

Although the yuan option makes sense for Sri Lanka, the Dutch and the Yanks won’t be too happy with that. The Dutch, remember, even tried to wrest Greece’s dairy industry from Greece after their euro swindle caused Greece’s economy to implode. As the Dutch and their trans-Atlantic partners in crime showed no mercy to the Greeks, we cannot expect them to look kindly on either the Chinese or Holland’s own former Ceylonese colony. Sadly, Sri Lanka, on its own, is, like Brazil, in no position to stand up to the bullyboy tactics of the usual NATO suspects.

China, as previously alluded to, may be another kettle of fish. If China can make such exotic trades and help break NATO’s banana blockade, then it will have the gratitude of tens of millions of Latin Americans, Africans, Sri Lankans and other Asians. For China to accomplish that, credibility and cold, common sense must be their Coin of the Realm.

China’s alliance with Mother Russia best illustrates this. For such alliances to work, there must be clear demarcation lines between what each party does and does not do. In the case of oil, that can be Russia delivering crude oil at a marked to market price in a place and manner of choosing to the parties involved. As that is an ongoing supply and demand business, China and Russia can mark themselves not only to the spot price but, going forward, to the futures and options prices as well.

Given that Uncle Sam objected in his usual violent manner when Libya, Tanzania and Kenya tried to form their own gold backed currency in times gone by, we can expect plenty of U.S. inspired bumps along the road as Russia, China and Sri Lanka look to the future with the economic cards at their disposal. That said, the key to the future of Russia, China, Sri Lanka and countless other nations is to fortify their sovereignty and trading monkeys for yuan and yuan for oil is a big step in that process. Although none of that will replace the global pre-eminence of the Yankee dollar, ditching the dollar, a yuan, a rupee and a rouble at a time, offers more hope to Russians, Asians and Latinos than does eternal vassalage to Uncle Sam and the global financial system he rigs in his favour.

NATO’s pending monkey business against China in the South China Sea will be an excellent weather vane in this respect. If NATO can upset China’s apple-cart there, then, for countries like Sri Lanka, it will be business and penury as usual. If, on the other hand, NATO can be sent packing, then there might be hope for all the peoples of the South China Sea, for Sri Lanka and for all the other peoples of South Asia as well.

The Walking Dead – Bombing Atlanta.

Slow to the EV Game, Foreign Car JVs in China Face Bleak Future

Nissan and Stellantis are among those with the worst joint venture sales

By Selina Xu

19 November 2022

A slow roll-out of electric cars and continued adherence to internal combustion engine models is putting some of the world’s biggest automakers on the back foot in China, the largest market for cleaner vehicles.

Among the joint ventures of major international players, the following 10 are at the bottom, ranking worst in terms of combustion-engine sales, according to CMB International Capital Corp. and using data from the China Association of Automobile Manufacturers.

Article HERE

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Vintage photos

Unsorted. Please enjoy.

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US vs China Parents – What skills do children need to be innovative?

During a recent meeting I attended with educators and government officials, I shared my frustration with the “output” of the current educational system. In my opinion, we optimized the system to produce graduates with deep technical skills and the ability to take tests. One competency that I see missing in our children is the ability to apply creative problem-solving skills to any given problem.

The Creative Economy

If you believe, as I, that we are experiencing the transition to the creative economy, the ability to train future employees with innovation skills will determine the winners and losers for organizations and countries. Those with a workforce without innovation skills will be relegated to being producers rather than creators.

I don’t want to sound like I’m blaming educators. The ultimate responsibility falls on the parents for the education and training of their children.  So what skills should parents ensure their kids? A recently published report based on the Newsweek-Intel Innovation Survey shows that US and China parents don’t agree on what skills are critical for children to have when it comes to innovation.

2023 04 20 06 42
2023 04 20 06 42

So, what are these critical skills?

Creative Thinking/Problem-Solving Skills: Children need to be taught how to think rather than how to memorize. It’s not about finding the one right answer for a test but instead the ability to search out all the possible answers to a question to find the optimal solution. Critical thinking and problem-solving skills should not be a stand-alone subject but taught across all subjects. For example, thinking through the range of options a given historical figure faced and then determining what would have been the alternative outcomes. Did that person make the right decision?

Entrepreneurial Skills: It is no longer about having deep expertise in an area but also having a broad understanding of how an idea is transformed into innovation. Understanding the structure, steps, and running of an organization is a fundamental skill that everyone needs to have.

Cultural Understanding:  The world is flat and getting flatter. The ability to understand and collaborate with a global ecosystem of employees, partners, and customers is a table stake. Without them, you are at a distinct disadvantage that will become more severe.

What are parents to do?

Find opportunities for your kids to gain the experience and skills needed to win the emerging economy. Get them involved in Junior Achievement so they understand business and how to be an entrepreneur. Get them on a FIRST team so they learn how to invent, create and collaborate. Put them in situations where they have to work with others from different cultures, such as an international internship.

While we as a society need to change the educational system to ensure we are producing the best employees possible, it’s the parents that can have the most positive and immediate impact on instilling innovation skills.

What jobs will they be ready for when the creative economy takes over?

Heartbreak Ridge – This Is The AK-47 Assault Rifle

How do we detect an imminent Chinese invasion of Taiwan?

I assume that you are an American, or a member of a proxy state loyal to the United States.

I also must assume that you failed geography. Never studied war. Have no idea at all about China, and are just emotionally entangled with the anti-China nonsense being spewed forth from the Western media.

Well, I’ll try to answer this one.

But as we used to say in Mississippi; there’s “few things stupider than a mail box pole”.

Taiwan is close to China.

In close. As in really, really, REALLY close.

Not only geographically, but socially, economically, financially, culturally, historically, and in all other ways… Chinese.

There is so much cross-strait migration back and forth, that you cannot tell who is from Taiwan and who is from the mainland.

So what does this mean?

Well…

  • You cannot detect a build up of any kind of an invasion force.
  • You cannot discern who is who, and where is what.
  • China controls Taiwan. Even though there are DPP elements who believe otherwise.

So, to spell it out clearly… let’s just say this.

You can supply Taiwan with all the weapons and bombs in the world, and you can convince them that LGBQ+ is the “new sexy”, but China is far too big, far too powerful, far too influential, and far, far too well managed. If China said “enough is enough”. All the games and charades would be over.

President Biden would have a fit, the United States media would howl, and the neocons would demand war!

But you know what would really happen?

Nothing. A whimper. And the United States would slither back under the rock from whence it came from.

Uncle Buck Favorite Scene

Okinawa is a Japanese & English name. Its Chinese name is Chong Sheng (冲绳). In 2023, it has returned to its history & renamed itself BACK to Liu Qiu (琉球). It was called Zhong Shan Wang Guo (中山王国)more than 150 years ago.

Liu Qiu is composed of many islands & rocks. Geographically Liu Qiu is located between Taiwan & Japan. But is closer to Taiwan than to Japan.

Liu Qiu was an independent country. It had diplomacy & business with China since 1429 & was under protection of China (like Korea).

Before WW2, when China’s Qing dynasty was militarily weak, Japan colonized many Asian countries & places incl Liu Qiu, Korea & Taiwan.

After WW2, the defeated Japan were forced to leave its colonies. According to Cairo Declaration, Japan territory only included Japan’s 4 big islands & a few rocks where there were no human.

In Liu Qiu, there were & are natives living there. Clearly there is no way Liu Qiu was part of Japan according to Cairo Declaration. Liu Qiu was independent from Japan.

How did Liu Qiu become a Japanese county today?

In 1972, USA unilaterally renamed Liu Qiu to Okinawa & put it under Japanese jurisdiction. Liu Qiu government was powerless to resist USA. (USA also unilaterally gave China’s Diao Yu Dao (钓鱼岛) to Japan, but there was no human on the rock. Today China vigorously protects Diao Yu Dao from Japan.)

1972 was an important date. It is the year when USA betrayed Taiwan’s ROC sovereignty & recognized PRC as the legitimate government to represent China in UN.

Why gave Liu Qiu to Japan at this time?

USA built a big US military base on Liu Qiu close to Taiwan. That is, to closely watch Taiwan for rebellion. After all USA had betrayed Taiwan first.

Before & during WW2, Japan was a bully in Asia. Forced labor/slave people from Korea, China incl Taiwan & of course Liu Qiu. Slavery means Japan did not treat others as humans. Insufficient food. Long hours of work. Not to mention physical beating.

Like Hitler’s Jewish holocaust, Japan did the same in Liu Qiu, China incl Taiwan (Nanjing massacre) & Korea. Liu Qiu people never forget that massacre.

Today, US soldiers on Liu Qiu are lawless. Rapes. Assault esp after alcohol. But they are immune from Liu Qiu law incl covid restrictions.

In 2023, Japan also stations Japanese soldiers in Liu Qiu.

Liu Qiu knows well:

If there is Taiwan war, USA & Japan will turn Liu Qiu into a ruin, both physically & economically. Dont be naive to think USA cares about human rights.

That is why Liu Qiu badly wants independence & declares neutrality among big countries eg China & USA+Japan. Not to mention to kick out lawless US & Japanese soldiers.

China is to do 2 things.

1, Accept Liu Qiu’s request for formal diplomacy between the 2 in summer 2023.

2, Following Cairo Declaration, China will ask UN to recognize Liu Qiu as an independent country. USA’s unilateral action in 1972 was illegal.

There are no arguments “for” 🙄, Taiwan belongs to China end of. If people do not like it then they are free to leave.

Even the UN recognises Taiwan as belonging to PRC China.

These questions are moot 🙄

On 23 July 2007, Secretary-General of the UN

Ban Ki-moon rejected Taiwan’s membership bid to “join the UN under the name of Taiwan”, citing Resolution 2758 as acknowledging that Taiwan is part of China, although it is important to note, not the People’s Republic of China.[8] Since Resolution 2758 was said to be “deliberately ambiguous” and did not use the word ‘Taiwan’, Ban Ki-moon’s interpretation to this effect came under fire from the American media[9] and was also opposed by several UN members led by the U.S.[10] A report by the American think tank the Heritage Foundation, also suggests that the US government issued a nine-point démarche

specifically rejecting the Secretary-General’s statement.[11] The US did not make any public pronouncement on the matter. Nevertheless, Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon’s statement reflected long-standing UN policy and is mirrored in other documents promulgated by the United Nations. For example, the UN’s “Final Clauses of Multilateral Treaties, Handbook”, 2003 (a publication which predated his tenure in Office) states:

…regarding the Taiwan Province of China, the Secretary-General follows the General Assembly’s guidance incorporated in resolution 2758 (XXVI) of the General Assembly of 25 October 1971 on the restoration of the lawful rights of the People’s Republic of China in the United Nations. The General Assembly decided to recognize the representatives of the Government of the People’s Republic of China as the only legitimate representatives of China to the United Nations. Hence, instruments received from the Taiwan Province of China will not be accepted by the Secretary-General in his capacity as depositary.[12]

Some of the worst things in the world

When I lived in Indiana, I lived in a mobile home. And I must tell you all, that for the most part, it was a metal box sitting on a plot in the middle of a mud field. Whether it was in Kokomo, Columbia City, Madison, of Anderson, it was freezing cold in the Winter, and hot, hot, hot in the Summer.

Fall and Spring were outstanding.

We adapt to life as we find it, but do not make the same mistakes that I did. Take a job for the money, in a place that is not perfect. For when I eventually moved to the Deep South, or later to Boston, I saw with my own eyes, just how much “life” I had missed out on.

Choose where you live carefully.

Pick a place. Stay there. Grow roots.

Be happy where you are. Accept your decision.

But…

Do not make decisions based on money.

Today’s article…

China’s Defense Ministry announced that on April 14, 2023 it had conducted a successful missile intercept test of an intercontinental ballistic missile in mid-stage flight.

This was the seventh successful test in a series of seven tests, and this interceptor is believed to already have been deployed with PLA Rocket Forces.

The test is a signal to the US that Chinese forces are absolutely prepared for a United States nuclear exchange.

Europe Just Destroyed America’s Plan for China

Unfortunately it becomes highly radical, unreasonable and totally lacks confident of itself, thereby as a consequence highly dangerous for its own safety but more importantly more risky to the world.

For starters the U.S. has thrown away all forms of freedom of expression both in America and especially abroad. They have openly banned and barred news media and journalists that expressed views that are contrary to the western narratives much like the banana republics and authoritarian societies it accused others of doing.

Russia Times, Chinese News Agency and a host of U.S. media that are deemed by them to speak out against these narratives are banned from cyberspace and forced out of Facebook, YouTube, Instagram and others. Americans can only hear the narrow, bias and false narratives that the U.S. Ukraines is winning, the world support the U.S. in the war and Putin is the evil and Russia U.S. all at fault.

They start to get desperate and take dangerous and self defeating measures like banning TikTok, Huawei and a host of perceived enemies. Decoupling, and containing China, outright thievery in Syria, robbery of the Russian reserves amounting to 300 billion dollars.

Sad but true. But the U.S. will need to get worst to get better. Today must Americans are totally ignorant of the world and their declining status and that they are naive to the point of being in total denial of the collapse of the western world order. Get it over with. The unipolar world order under a single superpower the U.S. is well and truly over. BRICS alone is bigger than G7, never mind another 50 countries that are currently applying for BRICS membership!

The faster American’s take stock of this the better and faster they can move on. Stop being in denial.

7 Warning Signs You’re Living Beyond Your Means

 

Living beyond our means has unfortunately become all too common in our consumer-driven and debt-heavy society. With the ease of impulse buying online and the reliance on credit cards, many of us end up spending more than we earn, putting ourselves in precarious financial situations and accumulating consumer debt.

This normalized behavior often leads us to overlook the financial dangers, neglect our long-term goals, and live a lifestyle that is unsustainable and too expensive for our own good. However, just because others may be living beyond their means, it doesn’t mean we have to jeopardize our own financial priorities.

To ensure that we are not living beyond our means, it’s important to watch out for warning signs.

1. You are Living Paycheck to Paycheck

One of the first signs is living paycheck to paycheck, which 78% of full-time workers reportedly experience, according to CNBC. While this may not necessarily indicate living beyond our means, it could be a result of being underpaid, living in an expensive area, or facing other financial circumstances.

However, oftentimes, it may be due to overspending or constantly upgrading our lifestyle, resulting in barely making ends meet every pay period. It’s crucial to take a step back, carefully examine our paycheck, and track our expenses to see where our money is going. This will help us identify areas where we can cut back and spend less.

By living within our means and budgeting wisely, we can gradually escape the cycle of living paycheck to paycheck. I’ve personally experienced this situation before, earning only $36,000 per year, but by curbing my overspending and implementing a budget, my financial situation could have been different.

If you feel you are not making enough money, it may also be worth considering asking for a raise or exploring ways to increase your income. It’s important to strive for financial stability and prioritize our long-term financial goals over short-term spending impulses.

2. You Have Little Saved or No Emergency Fund

It’s common knowledge that having an emergency fund is essential, but it’s surprising how many people neglect to build one. If you find yourself in any of the following situations, it may be a sign that you’re living beyond your means:

  • Your emergency fund can’t cover at least 3 months of your expenses.
  • You’re not consistently setting aside money from each paycheck for your emergency fund.
  • You don’t have an emergency fund at all.

To address this, it’s crucial to carefully review your spending habits, identify any mistakes, and make necessary changes to your money management habits. While it may not be feasible for everyone to save a large percentage of their income, try setting aside 5-10% of each paycheck towards your emergency fund. After a year of consistent savings, you’ll be amazed at how much you can accumulate.

3. Carrying Monthly Balances on Credit Cards

Using credit cards for building credit and earning rewards can be beneficial, but it’s easy to fall into the trap of overspending and carrying monthly balances. This is a clear indication that you’re spending more than you can afford. Even if you’re making monthly payments, continuing to accumulate a balance and paying high interest rates can quickly derail your financial success.

To address this issue, consider making double or triple payments each month to catch up on your credit card balances. Avoid using your credit card until you have a debt management plan in place and have regained control over your spending. Before making any high-priced purchases, ask yourself if you have the cash to pay it off immediately. If not, it’s best to keep your credit card in your wallet.

4. Neglecting Retirement Savings

While not everyone may be able to save for retirement at certain stages of their lives, prioritizing retirement savings is crucial for long-term financial security. If you’re indulging in expensive vacations, constantly upgrading to the latest gadgets, or splurging on luxury items without saving for retirement, it’s a clear sign that you’re living beyond your means.

It’s important to strike a balance between enjoying the present and securing your financial future. Prioritize building an emergency fund and saving for retirement before indulging in discretionary spending. Consider creating a separate savings account for vacations and set aside a percentage of your paychecks for this purpose. Look for high-yield online savings accounts like CIT Bank that offer over 2% interest and are FDIC insured.

5. Constantly Worrying About Paying Bills

While it’s normal to have concerns about bills at times, constantly stressing and losing sleep over them may indicate that you’re living beyond your means. Everyone’s situation is unique, and some may worry about bills even if they’re living below their means. However, if you’re struggling to pay recurring monthly bills or get out of debt despite consistently purchasing expensive items, it’s a clear indication of overspending.

6. Overspending on Mortgage or Rent

Stretching your budget too thin by spending too much on your mortgage or rent can quickly lead to financial stress. Just because a bank approves a loan or suggests that you can afford a certain amount doesn’t mean it’s wise to take on that much debt. It’s crucial to do your own math and be proactive in managing your housing expenses.

As a general rule, try to limit your monthly mortgage payment to 30-35% of your gross income for a 30-year mortgage. Similarly, aim to keep your rent within 30% of your monthly income, and even lower if possible. Consider living with a roommate or significant other to reduce housing costs. You can use online calculators like HomeLight to determine how much house you can afford based on your financial situation.

7. You’re Trying to Keep Up With The Joneses

You may be familiar with the concept of “keeping up with the Joneses.”

If not, it’s the idea of trying to match or surpass the possessions, lifestyle, and experiences of your friends, family, colleagues, or neighbors. This urge may stem from the fear of missing out, especially with the prevalence of social media in our lives.

In today’s age of social media, we have easy access to glimpses of everyone’s homes, cars, travels, and material possessions. Many people feel the need to buy things solely for the purpose of posting about them and seeking validation from others. This can lead to overspending, making poor financial decisions, and unnecessary debt.

When you find yourself comparing your finances to others, it’s important to remember:

  • Focus on your own financial goals and priorities, rather than being influenced by what others have.
  • Recognize that many people who appear to have it all may also be facing financial struggles or significant debt.
  • Ask yourself if upgrading your possessions or worrying about what others have will truly make you happier in the long run.

What To Do If Your Are Living Beyond Your Means?

If you find yourself living beyond your means, don’t panic or get frustrated. It’s a situation many people have experienced, and the first step is acknowledging it and wanting to improve your personal finances.

Not everyone is willing to admit they have a financial problem or take the initiative to change it. However, here are some simple steps you can take if you’re living beyond your means:

  • Dedicate time and prioritize living within your means.
  • Create a plan to reduce your expenses, such as canceling memberships, negotiating price reductions on bills, using coupons, or being more frugal in general.
  • Consider downsizing and minimizing your possessions to save money, such as downsizing your living space, selling items you don’t need, and buying fewer material items.
  • Start budgeting more thoroughly and stick to a simple budget, such as using spreadsheets to track your expenses.
  • Pay yourself first by automating savings from your paycheck.

These tips require action and may require changes in mentality and patience. It’s important to be committed to making the necessary changes and understand that results may not happen overnight.

Living beyond your means can affect anyone, regardless of their income level or socioeconomic status. Stories of millionaires going bankrupt or people with modest incomes retiring comfortably are not uncommon. It’s your mindset and habits that can make a difference.

Music from the Vietnam War

Ohhhh Baby!

Baked Beef Stroganoff Casserole

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cass 1

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds ground chuck
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
  • 2 cups sliced mushrooms
  • 1(14.5 ounce) can beef broth
  • 1 can cream of mushroom or chicken soup
  • 1 (16 ounce) container sour cream
  • 3/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon pepper
  • 8 ounces wide egg noodles, cooked and kept warm
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 small can French fried onion rings

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking dish.

In a large skillet, cook ground chuck, onion, and garlic over medium heat until meat is browned and crumbles. Drain.

Return meat to skillet and stir in Worcestershire sauce, mushrooms and beef broth. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 15 minutes.

Stir in soup, sour cream, salt and pepper. Remove from heat.

Combine hot cooked noodles and butter, stirring until butter melts.

Combine noodles and meat sauce.

Spoon into prepared baking dish.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Top evenly with French fried onion rings and bake 10 minutes longer.

During the Palestine campaign of World War 1, the British and Ottomans were deadlocked in a trench-warfare stalemate. The progression was extremely slow.

One day, the British learned that the Ottomans had run out of cigarettes. To try and demoralize the enemy, they sent cigarettes wrapped in propaganda to the Ottomans. As a response to this, the Ottomans threw away the propaganda and smoked the cigarettes anyway.

This is when the fun begins:

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The British noticed this behavior, and made and extremely smart move. Before a scheduled raid, the British sent more cigarettes…laced with heroin!

Needless to say they faced little resistance during the assault.

Idiocracy – Brawndo : It’s got what plants crave!

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2023 04 24 17 17

Top 20 Absolute Worst Things In The World

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horrible horrors1

Warning: the following post is not for the faint-hearted! Scroll down only if you are 100% sure that you can handle it!

h/t: sadanduseless

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Because of all the PRC air and naval activity around Taiwan, there has been frequent contact between PRC and ROC vessels.

These exchanges are now being reported in the Taiwan media.

ROC military aircraft issue a standard warning to PRC military aircraft.

中共飞机,你已经进入中华民国航空识别区,请尽快离开
PRC aircraft, you have already entered the ROC identification zone. Please depart as soon as possible.

One PRC pilot’s response:
这都是中国空域,你很快就会习惯
This is all Chinese airspace; you will get used to it very quickly.

American Censorship Increasing (The Slippery Slope Is Undefeated)

Truth be told, the Chinese are not worried because they have discovered that Chinese goods are necessary to Americans. American goods, on the other hand, are not “relatively so necessary” for the Chinese.

At the beginning of the trade war, the Chinese were also nervous, but it soon became clear that the impact on China was very low. Chinese goods are still being exported in large quantities to the US, or through South East Asia, for example, where Chinese components are assembled and exported to the U.S. China’s export deficit to the U.S. continued to grow in 2020.

This has led the Chinese to discover the differences between China and the United States.

We all know that in recent months the cost of shipping Chinese goods by sea to the West has risen so much that the cost of shipping exceeds the cost of the goods themselves. The reason for this is that industrial processing all over the world has been ordered in large quantities to China. Because of the epidemic, Chinese production is the most reliable.


Why are American goods not so imperative in relation to China?

The US media always says that the trade deficit between China and the US is due to the restrictions imposed by China on US goods, but the US media never says that there are differences between China and the US in terms of industries, with China favouring the production of more intermediate products and the US producing more sophisticated and advanced products.

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In the processing of ordinary industrial goods, the US is clearly unable to compete with China’s low-cost labour. But when it comes to advanced technology products, the US again heavily restricts Chinese purchases. The most typical is the restriction on Huawei, which has led to a reduction in US exports to China of about US$20 billion per year, and if you add in more high-tech products, the US is losing several hundred billion dollars per year.

China would very much like to buy advanced US products, but the US does not sell them to China.

So what does the US want to sell to China?

To sell China household appliances? Or cars? Or tea? Or bicycles? Or clothing for China?

The US – wanted to sell Boeing planes to China, but the Europeans told China that, for almost the same configuration, Boeing planes are always a bit more expensive than Airbus planes, and Airbus planes are always a bit cheaper than Boeing.

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Airbus planes are a little cheaper than Boeing. Compared to Boeing’s leading position in the industry, Airbus as a latecomer is bound to buy its own stuff cheaper in order to compete for the market. The Airbus catalogue price is more of a message to potential buyers that my aircraft are of high value and you can consider them.

Well then, for the Chinese, they will definitely buy Airbus planes.

I have driven cars made in the USA and also in Europe and Japan, and unfortunately, American cars have high fuel consumption and backward interior decoration. Tesla is an exception, but Tesla has opened a factory in China.


The US-China trade war has been going on for several years and the result is that China is exporting more and more to the US and the US is running a bigger and bigger trade deficit with China.

Put on the battlefield, this is a sign of defeat.

So, the Chinese don’t mind trade wars. Recently the US trade representatives are starting to seek advice on whether to remove tariffs on Chinese goods.

Star Trek nails racism

Beef Chili Cheese Fries

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2023 04 18 15 10

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 2 cups chopped yellow onions
  • Salt and cayenne to taste
  • 2 pounds ground beef
  • 1 tablespoon chili powder
  • 2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • Crushed red pepper to taste
  • 2 teaspoons dried oregano leaves
  • 2 tablespoons chopped garlic
  • 3 cups peeled, seeded, and chopped fresh or canned tomatoes
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 3 cups beefsteak or beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons Masa Harina
  • Vegetable oil for deep frying
  • 2 large Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into shoestrings, rinsed in cool water and patted dry
  • 1/2 pound grated Cheddar cheese
  • 1/2 pound grated Monterey jack cheese
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 1/2 cup sliced pickled jalapenos

Instructions

  1. Heat the vegetable oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions, season with salt and cayenne, and cook, stirring, until they begin to wilt, about 2 minutes.
  2. Add the beef, chili powder, cumin, crushed red pepper and oregano. Season with salt and cayenne, and cook until all the pink in the meat disappears, 5 to 6 minutes.
  3. Add the garlic, tomatoes, tomato paste and 2 1/2 cups beef stock; bring to boil, and reduce the heat to medium-low. Simmer, uncovered, until the meat is tender, about 1 hour, stirring occasionally. Skim off any fat that rises to the surface.
  4. Combine the Masa Harina with the remaining 1/2 cup stock and mix to blend. Slowly add to the pot, stirring to blend. The mixture will thicken. Cook for 30 minutes, then season again with salt and cayenne. It should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
  5. In a heavy, deep pot or an electric fryer, heat 4 inches of vegetable oil to 360 degrees F. Fry the shoestring potatoes in batches until golden brown, 3 to 4 minutes per batch. Drain on paper towels, then season with salt and cayenne.
  6. Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.
  7. Cover the bottom of a large, glass rectangular baking pan with the shoestring potatoes.
  8. Combine the Cheddar and jack cheeses. Sprinkle the cheese over the fries.
  9. Bake just until the cheese melts, 3 to 4 minutes.
  10. Remove the pan from the oven and spoon the chili over the top of the fries.
  11. Garnish with the sour cream and jalapenos.
  12. Serve immediately.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Official US Policy: We Can ‘Win’ a Nuclear War

Oh Lord!

Is there any credible evidence that Ukraine’s 2014 revolution was due to a CIA coup?

The West blames Russia for everything, but let’s question the Western narrative.

We will find out evidence for the Russian perspective about the Maidan, Donbas, and direct war between the states of Ukraine and Russia.

Maidan.

There was no “Russia-Ukraine conflict” before the events that happened in Maidan from November 2013 and February 2014.

The Maidan was when Viktor Yanukovych, the pro-Russian President of Ukraine was ousted by “protestors”.

The West painted Yanukovych as a Russian-puppet dictator and Ukrainian people as heavily pro-Western, pro-European and pro-American.

Now if we examine pre-Maidan Western and Ukrainian sources about Ukrainian views on the West, then the only conclusion that we can come to is that the vast majority of Ukrainians did not support the Maidan and that Yanukovych was democratically elected by the Ukrainian people.

In 2013, Victoria Nuland revealed in a speech that the US has spent 5 billion dollars since 1991 to promote “democracy” and make Ukraine a “prosperous and democratic” country (when the US says it is bringing “democracy”, it means the US is actually bringing death and destruction. We have seen how the US said it was bringing “freedom and democracy” earlier in Vietnam and most recently in Iraq and Libya but instead brought death and destruction).

In 2008, 17 years after the US effort to make Ukrainians pro-Western and anti-Russia began, and the year in which the US said Ukraine would one day join NATO, 50% of Ukrainians actually opposed NATO membership and less than 25% favored it. A 2010 Gallup poll showed that 40% of Ukrainians viewed NATO as more of a threat than a protector, just 17% had an opposite view. The Gallup poll also said “In the southern and eastern regions of Ukraine that border Russia, residents are more likely than those elsewhere to perceive NATO as a threat. A September 2009 survey by the Pew Research Center’s Global Attitudes Project found a similar pattern in Ukrainians’ views toward NATO membership: People in the East and South were more likely to oppose joining NATO”.

As you can see, Gallup talked about how Ukrainians from Southern and Eastern Ukraine are more anti-NATO. Now that is proven by the 2010 Ukraine Presidential election.

The 2010 Ukraine presidential election was between Yanukovych and Tymoshenko. Yanukovych was pro-Russia while Tymoshenko is a Ukrainian politician who is pro-Western. In the 2010 Presidential election, the Southern and Eastern regions mostly voted for Yanukovych and Western regions mostly voted for Tymoshenko while other regions mostly voted for Tymoshenko but to a lesser extent compared to the Western regions.

A map of the 2010 Ukraine Presidential election.

So the conclusion that we can come to is that the vast majority of Ukrainians in Western Ukraine did support the Maidan, but Ukrainians in the Southern and Eastern regions did not support it while other regions were either neutral or supportive regarding the Maidan.

Evidence that Maidan was a coup planned by the USA.

There is one very big evidence that it was a coup planned by the USA. This piece of evidence is undeniable.

On 4 Feb 2014, 18 days before Yanukovych was ousted, a phone call of Victoria Nuland and Geoffrey Pyatt who was the US ambassador to Ukraine at that time was leaked on YouTube. In that leaked phone call, they literally plan out the new regime and choose who should be in the Ukrainian government. Here is the YouTube video of the leaked phone call.

The Western news outlets reported this but they mostly focused on her saying “fuck the EU”.

‘Fuck the EU’: US diplomat Victoria Nuland’s phonecall leaked – video

The assistant US secretary of state, Victoria Nuland, has apologised after her phone conversation about the political crisis in Ukraine was leaked on the internet

‘Fuck the EU’: US diplomat Victoria Nuland’s phonecall leaked – video
The assistant US secretary of state, Victoria Nuland, has apologised after her phone conversation about the political crisis in Ukraine was leaked on the internet

So the West, especially the USA planned to sponsor a coup in Ukraine and put in a puppet government.

The big role of Nazis in the Maidan coup.

Nazis played a significant role in the Maidan according to Western sources (which date to the time of the Maidan).

The International Business Times (IBT) said on Feb 25 2014, around 3 days after Yanukovych was overthrown that:

According to a member of anti-fascist Union Ukraine, a group that monitors and fights fascism in Ukraine, “There are lots of nationalists here [EuroMaidan] including Nazis. They came from all over Ukraine, and they make up about 30% of protesters.

Ukraine Nazis: Is America Backing EuroMaidan Extremists?

US supports ultra-nationalist party leader Oleh Tyahnybok, according to AlterNet magazine.

Ukraine Nazis: Is America Backing EuroMaidan Extremists?
US supports ultra-nationalist party leader Oleh Tyahnybok, according to AlterNet magazine.

New York Times admitted (during the time of the overthrow of Yanukovych) that the Nazi right sector was at the forefront of the overthrow of Yanukovych.

Dmytro Yarosh, the leader of Right Sector, a coalition of hard-line nationalist groups, reacted defiantly to news of the settlement, drawing more cheers from the crowd.

“The agreements that were reached do not correspond to our aspirations,” he said. “Right Sector will not lay down arms. Right Sector will not lift the blockade of a single administrative building until our main demand is met — the resignation of Yanukovych.”

Ukraine Has Deal, but Both Russia and Protesters Appear Wary (Published 2014)

President Viktor F. Yanukovych agreed to reduced powers and Parliament moved to free his imprisoned rival, but many protesters want him to resign.

Ukraine Has Deal, but Both Russia and Protesters Appear Wary (Published 2014)
President Viktor F. Yanukovych agreed to reduced powers and Parliament moved to free his imprisoned rival, but many protesters want him to resign.

The war in Donbas.

The Donbas war is very important in order to understand why direct war between Russia and Ukraine is happening.

The Western narrative of the war in Donbas is that Russia funded and armed pro-Russian separatists to take over Donetsk and Luhansk, do bogus referendums and declare them independent from Ukraine creating the Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR) and Luhansk People’s Republic (LPR).

Evidence from Western sources that support Russian side of the story of how the Donbas war started.

Right after the Maidan, there were pro-Russia protests all over Southern and Eastern Ukraine.

Ukrainians in the south and east oppose pro-Western leadership

While the regions remain reliably pro-Russian, fears of separatism may be overblown considering complex narratives

Ukrainians in the south and east oppose pro-Western leadership
While the regions remain reliably pro-Russian, fears of separatism may be overblown considering complex narratives

The pro-Russia “separatists” and “terrorists” were actually originally called “protestors” by the Media.

Pro-Russia protests in Ukraine

Pro-Russian demonstrations took place in several cities in Ukraine in on Saturday.

Pro-Russia protests in Ukraine
Pro-Russian demonstrations took place in several cities in Ukraine in on Saturday.

Pro-Russia protesters seize eastern Ukraine state buildings

Protesters waving Russian flags seized the regional administrative building in Kharkiv, the third state premises in eastern Ukraine to be occupied by pro-Russian demonstrators on Sunday, Russian news…

Pro-Russia protesters seize eastern Ukraine state buildings
Protesters waving Russian flags seized the regional administrative building in Kharkiv, the third state premises in eastern Ukraine to be occupied by pro-Russian demonstrators on Sunday, Russian news…

The pro-Russia protesters stormed the government buildings in Kharkiv, Donetsk and Luhansk.

Ukraine: Pro-Russians storm offices in Donetsk, Luhansk, Kharkiv

Pro-Russian protesters storm government buildings in three eastern Ukrainian cities, calling for a referendum on independence.

Ukraine: Pro-Russians storm offices in Donetsk, Luhansk, Kharkiv
Pro-Russian protesters storm government buildings in three eastern Ukrainian cities, calling for a referendum on independence.

Pro-Russia protesters occupy regional government in Ukraine’s Donetsk

Pro-Russian demonstrators occupied the regional government building in east Ukraine’s city of Donetsk on Monday, besieging lawmakers as they voted to support the protesters but stopped short of meeting their demands for a split from Kiev.

What Is The Referee Doing When He Grabs The Wrists Of A Fighter After They’ve Been Knocked Down?

First and foremost he is ensuring the fighter is lucid and responsive.

corales vs castillo
corales vs castillo

First thing he does is grab the gloves and wipe the knuckle area(s) on his shirt as they likely picked up some dirt/sand/debris from the ring floor.

He often requests the fighter tries to bring his hands up against resistance, expecting a decent push (if it is weak, he will end the fight).

He will instruct the fighter to bring his hands to the defensive position and reaffirm the fighter is lucid and in control.

During this whole thing (which takes only several seconds) he will maintain almost if not entirely unbroken eye contact.

A sharp, lucid fighter will stare him back down, confirm he is ready and able to continue when asked, and at the end of the 10 second count, he expects the “rattle” to all but disappear.

A fighter who needs to be excused from the contest will likely not display crisp movements and balance, wavering eye contact/gaze, and a drunken-like movement.

I am from Taiwan.

It is highly unlikely for a future conflict between the PRC and the ROC/Taiwan to run a course even remotely resembling the Russian-Ukrainian conflict currently unfolding.

The reason lies in the mentality of the people of Taiwan, who are all about demagoguery, chest thumping, and empty bravado not backed by real commitment.

I have commented on this point in many previous Quora answers.

Those most vocal about resisting China to seek independence are often the same people who evaded military service, sent their entire family (if not themselves) to emigrate to foreign countries, or engaged in lucrative businesses on the mainland.

The Taiwanese history of the past few centuries is replete with quislings who sold out to multiple waves of outside invaders to acquire fortune and social status with impunity, with loot and family eminence benefiting generations of descendants until today.

The current Taiwanese president and her former head of the Executive Yuan are two living examples of this quisling culture unique to Taiwan.

It will happen one more time when the PLA comes.

This has not been the tradition of Ukraine apparently.

The kind of destruction of infrastructure during the current conflict did not happen on an extensive scale until the stubborn resistance by the Ukrainians left Russia with little option, who initially sought an approach of minimal collateral damage in order to keep the option of an early ceasefire negotiation alive.

Russia turned to the strategy of heavy, indiscriminate bombardment only after the fierce resistance obviated such a possibility.

I am very impressed by the admirable and courageous resistance put up by the Ukrainians, no matter how they have been misled by their politicians.

Knowing Taiwan well, I also know it is preposterous to expect the Taiwanese to put up even 1% of the fight of the Ukrainians.

If it ever comes to a military conflict with the PRC, 99.9% of the Taiwanese you see today thumping their chests and chanting slogans will be nowhere to be seen, unless they are waving welcoming banners to the PLA.

We are a very smart people, and we know what the Westerners like to see on their English-only NY Times, BBC and Fox News, thus we know how to put up the best performance for you.

It costs us nothing more than some saliva and a few keyboards.

One will be totally delusional, as are many Western politicians, to expect scenes like IRA gunmen or PLO suicide bombers to be duplicated in Taiwan.

No, it will not happen.

The Taiwanese are not Ukrainians, and China will not be forced to make the same decision that Putin had to make.

It will be a walk in the park. Zero infrastructure destruction.

The only way to make the Taiwanese fight like hell would be to not allow them to make money. If China closes down the Taiwanese stock market or raises profit tax to 60%, then expect the biggest revolt in the history of Taiwan.

Why Do Japanese Homes Lose All Their Value After 15 Years?

 

 

Japanese homes only last an average of 30 years, and lose all of their value after 15. As a result, rather than being an investment that a family can build equity in, Japanese homewoners scrimp and save only to see what is often their life’s biggest investment lose 1/15th of its value each year. How did this come to be?

After WW2, the Japanese slapped together a lot of crudely built homes to house its population.

Those home were so shoddy that they didn’t have much resale value, years later, as it was actually cheaper to tear them down and rebuild them than to repair them. And that became kind of a “thing,” in Japan.

They would manufacture cheap, pre-fab homes that were not designed to last a long time, and building codes changed and improved, so it was more practical to just tear them down and rebuild them. And all of that became a part of modern Japanese culture.

People just view older homes as “crap,” no matter what their actual condition or appearance, so nobody really bothers to properly maintain them and fix them up for resale, because they know they’re not going to get that money back.

China’s Space Dominance SHOCKS! American Scientist

Author: Alastair Crooke

The Chinese, quite possibly, are genuinely perplexed at the US and European strategy: Why does the US not back-off now from this Ukraine war?

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2023 04 24 16 56

President Macron and EU Commission head, Von der Leyen, are back from China. Their visit achieved little that was tangible (except for a few contracts for French businesses), but the atmospherics were terrible. And von der Leyen reportedly cut her trip short.

President Xi was as courteous and patient as ever, but even he failed to hide his grimaces, as Macron went on, and on, about China’s responsibility to roll back President Putin over Ukraine. Xi’s frustration showed plainly when Macron did not seem to hear his repeated response that both Russia and Ukraine have their security concerns, and that ‘no’, China is not about to intervene in the conflict. Macron however, just persisted — and at length.

So what was this visit all about? Well, essentially, it related to the fact that Secretary Blinken has been unable to reinstate the visit to Beijing that he cancelled in the wake of the US shoot down of the Chinese weather balloon. And nor has the White House been able to schedule a phone call between Presidents’ Biden and Xi. Beijing remains non-responsive to both.

So Macron took up an earlier invite to Beijing, and Von der Leyen tagged along to show EU ‘solidarity’ (but was largely ignored).

Ostensibly, Macron’s message was that France wanted to keep some commercial links with China open (in spite of US pressures to isolate China economically), but the European pair travelled essentially as American emissaries.

Their tasking was well understood by China. This sentiment was succinctly framed by the former editor-in-chief of China’s Global Times, Hu Xijin, who is close to Central Committee thinking, who gave us the ‘Big Picture’:

“The US repeatedly claims that China is preparing to provide “lethal military aid” to Russia in the ongoing Ukraine conflict. China has firmly denied the allegations: I believe the US is engaging in a ‘pre-emptive accusation’ to prevent China from weighing in on the conflict”.

“[The] Ukraine war has been going on for more than a year: And according to the West’s previous calculation, Russia should have already collapsed by now. They didn’t expect that Russia can still sustain it until now – and in recent days, Russia is advancing the encirclement of Bakhmut, a key hub for the supply route of the Ukrainian troops.

“It is a war of attrition between Russia and the West. Ukraine provides the troops. It is receiving all its military supplies, including ammunition, from NATO. And whilst NATO is supposed to be much stronger than Russia, the situation on the ground doesn’t appear as such – which is why it causes anxiety in the West.

“The West has found it much more difficult than expected, to defeat Russia. They know that China has not provided military aid to Russia. But the question that haunts them is this: If Russia alone, is already so difficult to deal with, what if China really starts to provide military aid to Russia, using its massive industrial capabilities for the Russian military? Russia alone … is more than a match for the Collective West. If they [the West] really forces China and Russia to join hands militarily – the question that haunts them is that the West will no longer be able to do as it pleases. Russia and China together, would have the power to check the US”.

In short, Hu Xijin is expressing this paradox: The US and Europe know that China is providing no military aid. In China’s view, Russia is managing handily in confronting the entire West in Ukraine — ‘singlehandedly’. It therefore does not need China’s help, so why, has the US effectively pursued a policy of forcing “China and Russia to join hands”?

The answer, Hu says, is that that were China and Russia to join hands militarily – well, that would be paradigm change. US hegemony would no longer be able to do as it pleases. Russia and China together would have the power to check the US, whenever it oversteps its boundaries.

The Chinese, quite possibly, are genuinely perplexed at the US and European strategy: Why does the US not back-off now from this Ukraine war? For, should the West continue to escalate, with more and more NATO military support, ‘what if’ this ultimately does result in China and Russia militarily ‘joining hands’. Bang! Paradigm change will be done.

Does the US want that? Clearly not. It would result in the humiliation of the US and NATO. So, why persist with a project which looks to end badly — and which shamefully is sacrificing so many lives?

Is there some unperceived strategy here, or is it just about having favourable 2024 US Presidential ‘optics’, irrespective of strategy: i.e. placing a short term Presidential ‘look’ above a long-term US strategic loss?

A major difference between US AI and China AI is that China AI is all about implementation.

In research, US has about 60% of the world’s top 1000 top researchers, and China less than 10%. The top US researchers are both academia and industry, while the top Chinese researchers are generally in the industry, while academia lags behind the US substantially. Chinese research papers have increased in quality rapidly over the years, but it will take a long time to catch up with the US. (For more details on this, see my book AI Superpowers)

Deep learning is the single greatest invention so far in the Era of Discovery, which was led by the U.S.. But since the deep learning breakthrough, we’ve already entered the Era of Implementation where what matters is execution, product quality, speed, and data. And that’s where China comes in.

China’s technological execution is built on incredible work ethic. Nearly abandoning of my wife in the delivery room is nothing compared to the entrepreneurs in China. As a venture capitalist in China, I once saw a startup claim that it offered great work-life balance because it was “996”. What’s 996? 9am to 9pm, 6 days a week. Most other startups in China are 997.

Chinese product quality has improved dramatically due to intense competition. Silicon Valley competition resembles the old wars where each side takes its turn to fire. In China, competition is like gladiators in the coliseum, fighting to the death with no holds barred. Fierce competition pushes entrepreneurs to improve the product at lightning speed, and to develop impregnable business models. As a result, Wechat and Weibo have evolved into arguably better products than products from Facebook and Twitter.

Chinese market rapidly embraces new products and new paradigms. Just within the last 3 years, mobile payments have emerged as the dominant transaction tool, replacing cash and credit cards. Total transaction in 2017 was $18.8 trillion, even larger than China’s GDP. How’s that possible? China’s mobile payments are built on the world’s best infrastructure: nearly zero-transaction-fee, micropayment-capable, and peer-to-peer. Over 700 million Chinese users can pay each other, whether for online, offline, loan, or gift, whether to your child, a farmer in a village, or even a beggar.

All of this is amplified by China’s enormous market size, which generates the treasure trove of data which is the critical rocket fuel for AI. China’s data edge is 3 times the US based on mobile users ratio, 10 times the US in food delivery, 50 times in mobile payment, and 300 times in shared bicycle rides. (The few paragraphs above come from my TED talk this year).

All this rich data is used to make Chinese companies’ AI work better. Today, China has the world’s most valuable companies in computer vision, drones, speech recognition, speech synthesis, and machine translation. The total valuation of Chinese computer vision companies is about $10B, and the total valuation of Chinese speech recognition companies is also about $10B.

Internet is an area where AI giants blossomed. The same is true for US and China. For US: Google, Facebook, Amazon, Microsoft. For China: Alibaba, Tencent, Baidu. These seven companies have a disproportionate share of AI people (in particular Google has the most).

China has a number of industrial AI opportunities in “late mover advantage”, that is when the industry lags the US, AI can make a big difference. We’ve seen this in payments, and will soon see it in retail, healthcare, and education (for AI & education, watch the upcoming 60 Minutes).

So, not unexpectedly, in VC funding, China has 48% of the world’s funding, while US 38%.

This is a true masterpiece. Really.

Check out this screen shot.

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2023 04 24 17 10r

And this one…

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2023 04 24 17 1re2

I just love it. LOVE IT!

https://youtu.be/NFt9jpSgjnA

It is evolving into a brand new world

As someone who ended up in the insolvency business, if you renage on your debt obligations then your fate is taken out of your hands. You are often screwed if even one creditor decides to make an example of you. Now I believe international debt is slightly different. In corporate or personal lending you can recover in 3 to 5 years. You mess with China and I'm thinking generations...

So anyone in charge of international debt restructuring needs to be similarly aware of the implications. One of those will be a flight from the USD$ if US controlled institutions are not seen to be equitable. Or even if they are. No one likes losing money.

We do indeed live in interesting times.

Posted by: marcjf | Apr 15 2023 18:38 utc | 11

I have been musing about coffee lately.

You know, I grew up with a percolator tin on the stove and really, really, REALLY extra black coffee that had been cooking all day.

Today, most people carry a cardboard cup of coffee to work. It’s good. But, you know, it’s nto the same thing as the kind of coffee that I grew up with.

I wonder…

How about someone saying something good about the 1960’s era style of coffee…

Woman Spewing Anti-China Propaganda Gets Rude Awakening!

Been trying to explain this for years to my peers. I'm a Black American, but went to a diverse high school from which one of my lifelong friends is Chinese. Through him I've met a lot of people who transferred here as students when we were in college. 

Dated a couple Chinese women, married one, and from these experiences learned a bit about their culture. 

What Varafakis says towards the end of the clip when he states that the Chinese are "patient investors" is right. 

From my personal experience (albeit anecdotal), I've learned and try to explain that they play the long game. Westerners are so greedy that they want their returns right away. 

Which is why they are SO destructive. Both at home and abroad. They're willing to blow the place up for short-term gains. Eastern nations, China, Japan, Korea...they value quality over quantity, and are willing to invest in long term projects.

European Central Bank President Christine Lagarde acknowledged “the tectonic plates of geopolitics are shifting faster” and “we may see the world becoming more multipolar”, with the decline of US dollar hegemony, war in Ukraine, and rise of China.

By Ben Norton

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2023 04 23 14 40

The president of the European Central Bank, Christine Lagarde, gave a speech acknowledging that “the tectonic plates of geopolitics are shifting faster” and “we may see the world becoming more multipolar”, with the decline of US dollar hegemony , war in Ukraine, and rise of China.

“We could see more multipolarity as geopolitical tensions continue to mount”, Lagarde added.

Geopolitical Economy Report editor-in-chief Ben Norton analyzed Lagarde’s speech with Radhika Desai, professor in the Department of Political Studies at the University of Manitoba and director of the Geopolitical Economy Research Group:

In the April 17 speech, titled “Central banks in a fragmenting world

”, the European Central Bank (ECB) president cited the “growing rivalry between the United States and China”.

Lagarde stated:

So I decided to accept the idea, and I do that reluctantly, because I don’t think that it’s necessarily a pretty picture, but to accept the idea that we are moving towards a fragmented or a more fragmented world than we’ve had it, and that we are not necessarily in a completely bipolar situation, but that we might move in that direction.

We are witnessing a fragmentation of the global economy in two competing blocs, with each bloc trying to pull as much of the rest of the world closer to its respective strategic interests and shared values. And this fragmentation, as I have mentioned, may well coalesce around two blocs led respectively by the United States of America and by China, the two largest economies in the world at the moment.

In her presentation, Lagarde hinted that the European Union could potentially try to pursue an independent path, mentioning the “strategic autonomy agenda in Europe”.

This was a clear reference to a concept that French President Emmanuel Macron has promoted. This April, Macron visited China and publicly criticized US dominance of Europe

, arguing the leaders of the region cannot simply be “vassals” and “followers” of Washington.

Lagarde is one of the most powerful people in Europe. She was France’s former finance minister, before later serving as director of the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

The current ECB president gave this speech in New York for the Council on Foreign Relations

(CFR), a powerful think tank with a close relationship with the US government, which essentially acts as the link between the State Department and Wall Street.

The politically connected Rockefeller oligarchs cultivated the CFR in the early 20th century, funding its influential War and Peace Studies Project during World War Two and collaborating with Washington to help plan the First Cold War against the Soviet Union.

Lagarde addressed the CFR just one day after the former Federal Reserve chair and current US secretary of the Treasury, Janet Yellen, admitted

in an April 16 interview with CNN:

There is a risk, when we use financial sanctions that are linked to the role of the dollar, that, over time, it could undermine the hegemony of the dollar.

Of course, it does create a desire on the part of China, of Russia, of Iran to find an alternative.

Rising wages for Asian workers fuels inflation in Western economies

Professor Radhika Desai noted that much of Lagarde’s speech was about inflation.

“This point about inflation goes to the nub of the issue of multipolarity, which, ultimately, what is it but is diminution in the power of imperialism?” Desai said.

In her speech at the CFR, Lagarde acknowledged that, following the end of the First Cold War, the world was “under the hegemonic leadership of the United States”.

Lagarde said:

In the time after the Cold War, the world benefited from a remarkably favourable geopolitical environment.

Under the hegemonic leadership of the United States, rules-based international institutions flourished and global trade expanded.

This led to a deepening of global value chains and, as China joined the world economy, a massive increase in the global labour supply.

As a result, global supply became more elastic to changes in domestic demand, leading to a long period of relatively low and stable inflation.

That in turn underpinned a policy framework in which independent central banks could focus on stabilising inflation by steering demand without having to pay too much attention to supply-side disruptions.

In these comments, Lagarde was clearly indicating that the exploitation of low-paid Chinese workers by Western companies was a significant factor in reducing consumer price index inflation in the core of the imperialist world system.

Lagarde’s remarks were reminiscent of a confession by EU foreign-policy chief Josep Borrell, who admitted in Brussels in October that “our prosperity was based on China and Russia

”:

So our prosperity was based on China and Russia – energy and market.

You, US, takes care of our security. You, China and Russia, provide the basis of our prosperity.

This is a world that is no longer there.

Our prosperity has been based on cheap energy coming from Russia – Russian gas, cheap and supposed[ly] affordable, and secure and stable, which has been not the case.

And the access to the big China market for exports and imports, for technological transfer, for investment, and for having cheap goods.

I think that the Chinese workers with their low salaries has done much better, much more to contain inflation than all the central banks together.

So our prosperity was based on China and Russia – energy, a market.

Desai stressed that it is not true, as Lagarde claimed, that “the world benefited from a remarkably favourable geopolitical environment” under US “hegemonic leadership”.

“No, the First World benefited”, Desai countered.

How the hegemonic US dollar system hurt the Global South

Desai noted that this system of US hegemony, which was never really stable, was based on two things: “US military power on the one hand, but also equally importantly, the US dollar system”.

“And if we look a little bit more closely at it”, Desai said, “in practically every major respect, the dollar system has not been good for the Third World, not good for the vast majority of countries in the world, that are not Western, that do not have a place in the G7 where they can coordinate macroeconomic policy and make sure that US allies don’t get too badly burned by the US dollar system – although they have been badly burned by it as well, as we saw in 2008”.

Desai explained:

First of all, the dollar system systematically undervalues the currencies of the Third World.

And when you undervalue a currency, what you are doing is you are undervaluing the resources and the labor of those countries.

Precisely, this is the mechanism by which the West has managed to get access to the resources and the labor of these countries cheaply.

And that also means that the rest of the world has to sell their resources for a song and to work doubly hard, triply hard in order to sell – they have to sell a massive volume of goods, export a massive volume of goods to Western countries, in order to earn Western hard currencies, including the dollar, because their money is systematically undervalued in relation to this.

So that there has always been a big discrepancy between the volume of exports and the value of exports, which of course is artificially lowered by the bad exchange rate.

Secondly, the dollar financial system has given the world nothing but a series of crises after crises, a great deal of volatility.

An international medium of [exchange] ought to have a stable value, but the dollar’s value keeps fluctuating.

Another problem, and a large part of the volatility, and the tendency to crisis, comes from the fact that, whereas a proper monetary system should be based on sort of a balanced environment, the dollar systematically has required imbalances.

The chief among them, of course, being the vast US current account deficits, which the rest of the world has to finance.

But also the imbalances that are created by the US dollar-centered financial system, which has been on the one hand creating vast amounts of unsustainable dollar debt, indebting households, indebting businesses, and indebting governments around the world.

And, on the other hand, blowing up asset bubbles so that US financial institutions and high-net-worth individuals can make a killing with the inflation of asset values.

But this, of course, only leads to the crash of these, or the bursting of these bubbles, and this has created more problems.

Further, the Third World is told that the US has a very sophisticated financial system; it’s great, it’s going to provide you with the capital you sorely need for development.

But of course, in reality, the US-focused financial system offers the opposite of that, because capital for productive investment – which indeed the Third World and the rest of the world really needs – needs to be stable, long-term capital that is able to invest for a long period in infrastructure projects and projects that have long gestation periods, but eventually are very important and good for the economy.

But this is not the sort of capital that the US financial system offers. Instead, the US financial system offers short-term capital that only goes to inflate the value of existing assets, rather than investing productively in the creation of new goods and services.

So the rest of the world is told, you know, ‘Lift your capital account restrictions, allow free capital flows and you will get the capital you want’.

In fact, what the Third World gets is the opposite of that: the capital they don’t want – hot money that comes stampeding in when these investors, who are not particularly knowledgeable, think things are good, and hot money that stampedes out at the slightest sign of a problem, thanks to equally ignorant investors leaving behind financial crises, credit crises, currency crises, and, of course, economic crises.

A couple of other points that one should also add to this: Number one, this system, particularly debt crises, from the Third World debt crisis onwards, has enforced a system of debtor responsibility, completely ignoring that any credit relationship has two relatively equal parts, and if things go sour, if things go wrong, if a debt cannot be paid, both debtor and creditor are co-responsible for the problem.

Instead, all the weight of adjustment, the weight of repayment, etc. has been on the debtors.

And, as you know, this is the chief mechanism by which so much money is being drained out of debtor countries, which are the vast majority of countries in the Third World, and goes into the coffers of the rich countries.

And finally, one final point: Given that this system has been so awful, naturally, countries have wanted to leave it.

And what has the US done historically to countries that have wanted to leave it? It has essentially waged war against them.

Think of Saddam Hussein. Think of Moammar Qadhafi. What was crucial about these two leaders? It was the fact that one of their key projects in each case was a project to leave the dollar system and try to create an alternative to the dollar system.

And this is why they were essentially deposed and killed, in gruesome ways, in the case of Qadhafi.

And, of course, their countries have been left essentially prey to all sorts of military, political, financial, and economic instability.

So this is not a [stable] system.

And so, naturally, finally now, the rest of the world has alternatives. And the United States can’t even wage a war to force the Third World back to the dollar system.

Moroccan Chicken with Prunes,
Almonds and Couscous

This is a great dish for Rosh Hashanah.

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2023 04 15 07 35

Braising chicken in a sauce that combines cinnamon, nutmeg and honey with a hint of saffron might sound surprising, but this is a delicious, spectacular dish. Some people sprinkle the chicken with toasted sesame seeds as well. If you’d like a touch of green, you can garnish the dish with fresh basil.

Ingredients

  • 3 pounds chicken pieces
  • 2 yellow onions, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • Freshly ground pepper
  • 1 stick cinnamon
  • 1 cup chicken stock, broth or water
  • 1/8 teaspoon saffron threads
  • 1 1/3 cups pitted prunes
  • 2 tablespoons honey
  • Freshly grated nutmeg
  • 1 (10 ounce) package plain couscous, cooked to package directions
  • 1/2 cup whole blanched almonds, lightly toasted

Instructions

  1. Combine chicken, onions, salt and pepper in a Dutch oven. Cover; cook over low heat, turning chicken pieces over occasionally, 5 minutes.
  2. Add cinnamon, stock and saffron. Heat to a boil over medium heat. Cover; simmer over low heat, turning pieces occasionally, until breast pieces are tender when pierced with a knife, 35 minutes. Transfer to a plate.
  3. Cook remaining chicken pieces, until tender, covered, 10 minutes.
  4. Transfer chicken to plate.
  5. Add prunes and honey to sauce; cook uncovered over medium heat until prunes are just tender, 5 minutes.
  6. Transfer prunes to a heated bowl; cover. Discard cinnamon stick.
  7. Cook sauce over medium heat, stirring occasionally, to thicken slightly, about 5 minutes.
  8. Add nutmeg. Taste; adjust seasoning.
  9. Return chicken to pan. Cover; heat over low heat 5 minutes.
  10. Fluff couscous with a fork; mound it on a heated platter.
  11. Arrange chicken around or over couscous; spoon sauce and prunes over chicken.
  12. Garnish with almonds.

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2023 04 20 10 40

https://youtu.be/zoBPltOyCrg

Another Train Derails- this one in Maine. Haz Mat Released

.

A train has reportedly derailed in the state of Maine and officials say they believe hazardous materials were on board.

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2023 04 17 18 14

“Train derailment with fire north of Rockwood, hazardous materials please stay clear!” The Rockwood, Maine Fire & Rescue posted on Facebook Saturday.

The Fire & Rescue team posted a photo of the incident that shows a derailed train and a fire burning in a snow covered forest area.

Rockwood Fire & Rescue did not immediately respond to a request for comment from Fox News Digital.

It is unclear if anyone was injured during the derailment.

Rockwood, Maine, is located on the western side of Moosehead Lake in the northern part of the state roughly 45 miles from the Canadian border.

The railroad tracks in that area of Maine are owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway, Fox 23 Maine reported.

Canadian Pacific Railway did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Hal Turner Opinion

We here in the United States have thought for a long time that we are the “be all” and “end all” of human civilization.   We were the best of the best and no else even came close.

Not anymore.

The numerous derailments of trains throughout this nation over the past couple months shows that we’ve descended to third world status in our infra-structure.

The condition of our highways, of our bridges, of our electric grid, all point to it.

Someone on the Internet summed it up quite succinctly with the image below. . . China versus USA:

Reality in two ics US v China
Reality in two ics US v China

The image reflects the reality. The reality . . . is an “effin” disgrace.

Instead of corporations doing stock buy backs, and giving huge bonuses, it’s long overdue they use that money to fix their infrastructure.

The damage to commerce, and to our environment, from these train derailments is far to high to sit back and allow business as usual. The sickening of people and destruction of private property by these derailments and the chemicals they release, is completely unacceptable. Things MUST change. These derailments have to stop.

https://youtu.be/LVHfwXtBIek

“Sweeteens”: Young Londoners Enjoying Freedom after the Lockdown

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Made from photographs taken in May of last year, as the UK’s first lockdown began to ease, photographer Laura Jane Coulson’s new book, Sweeteens, is a love letter to freedom, youth, and the green spaces of London. The book immortalizes friends of the photographer, mostly young people, enjoying these precious moments of freedom in such an absurd time.

More: Laura Jane Coulson, “Sweeteens” h/t: fubiz

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“In May 2020, at the end of an unseasonably warm spring, lockdown began to lift – and with it, to everybody’s surprise, the thrum of friction that soundtracks a city like London subsided. The percussive clang of discord, usually a constant companion from borough to borough, was temporarily silent. In its place, harmony hung like a low haze over the streets, sinking into the cracks between buildings and soothing their inhabitants. Permitted to spend time outside again, Londoners were drawn to the city’s green spaces to see their friends and family – from a distance, kind of.

The combination of proximity after months spent in isolation, the quiet joy of reunion, intimacy and idle chatter, the bittersweet recognition of what had been lost in a few short months all melded together, glued by heat, relief, a kind of raw, hopeful happiness. The atmosphere was defiant, gentle, bold and jubilant. It felt strangely calm. This is the city that Laura Jane Coulson captures, in the photographs that follow. A couple of weeks later, something in the air had changed again, and the spell was over. The cacophony returned, coarse and dissonant as ever. But that, of course, is part of the magic.”

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How the U.S. “Buys” its “Allies”

The U.S. is the only country that can print “unlimited” money and exchange it for real goods from other nations.  This is due to the US Dollar’s reserve status.
But do you know the U.S. can also extend this exorbitant privilege to an ally? Here’s how the scam works…

If you want to understand how the U.S. defrauds the world, you need to know how reserve currency works and how the US Dollar (USD)  gained that status.

The tool that allows the U.S. to extend its exorbitant monetary privileges to an ally is called ‘swap lines.’ ‘Swap lines’ are agreements that enable one country to exchange its currency with the currency of another. This is done through their respective central banks.

Let’s use the example of ‘swap lines’ between the U.S. & UK to illustrate how the scam works:
Countries are free to print their own currencies.
But only the U.S. can print “unlimited” amount of dollars without suffering hyperinflation due to the USD’s reserve status.

That means the U.S. can generate “unlimited” amount of dollars out of thin air & exchange them for:
– tangible goods from China
– resources from Africa
– oil from the Middle East

That’s “magic.”
No other country can do that… unless the U.S. grants them a ‘swap line.’

What if the UK wants a share of that “magic money”? The U.S. Fed can help. Here’s how:
The Bank of England prints 1 trillion GBP.  It then swaps that with the Fed for 1.25 trillion USD (the current exchange rate).
The UK has just indirectly printed 1.25 trillion USD!

Did you see the “magic” that just happened?

Unlike America, the UK cannot print GBP with impunity and allow all that excess “money” to enter the market. That would devalue the GBP & cause hyperinflation.
So it prints the GBP & swaps them for USD with the Fed instead.

In short, the U.S. defrauds the world with its USD, then uses ‘swap lines’ to share the spoils with its staunchest allies.

The U.S. can grant ‘swap lines’ to any country it wants.

Now do you understand why some countries are diehard supporters of the U.S. Empire?

Being a staunch US ally means they get to create money out of thin air thanks to the U.S.A.

Stunning Vintage Photographs Of The Early Teen Bicycle Messengers In 1908-1917

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In 1908, the National Child Labor Committee hired Lewis Hine, a New York sociologist and photographer, to document the exploitative working conditions of child laborers in dozens of occupations, from mining and manufacturing to farming and newspaper selling. Among the many workers he captured were bicycle messengers in several southern cities.

Almost immediately after the development of the pedal-driven velocipede in the 1860s, people began to use the bicycle for delivery purposes. David V. Herlihy’s 2004 book on the early history of the bicycle contains several references to bicycle messengers working during the late 19th century, including a description of couriers employed by the Paris stock exchange in the 1870s.

The photos that Hine took became the face of the child labor reform movement and ultimately helped push through the 1916 passage of the Keatings-Owen Act, which set age and shift length restrictions for young workers. While the act was struck down by the Supreme Court, it set the stage for lasting reform to be created during the New Deal of the 1930s.

Above: “George Christopher, Postal Tel. #7, 14 years old. Been at it over 3 years. Does not work nights. Location: Nashville, Tennessee”. November, 1910.

h/t: rarehistoricalphotos Photo credit: Library of Congress

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“Raymond Bykes, Western Union No. 23, Norfolk, Va. Said he was fourteen years old. Works until after one A.M. every night. He is precocious and not a little “tough.” He told me he often sleeps down at the Bay Line boat docks all night. Several times I saw his mother hanging around the office, but she seemed more concerned about getting his pay envelope than anything else”. June, 1911.

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Found Working Nuclear Bunker with Vehicles & Gear

Ruthless! U.S.A. Foments Coup d’etat in Sudan Just Two months After Russia’s Approach

Two months ago, on February 9,  Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov visited the African nation of Sudan.  One of the topics discussed: A Russian Naval Base on the Red Sea.   Here we are two months after that discussion, the U.S. has fomented a military Coup in Sudan.

Russia’s agreement . . . out the window.  That’s how utterly RUTHLESS the USA is.  It took our CIA just two months to make it all happen.

You see, when the USA cannot get what we want by peaceful means, or bribery, we foment the overthrow of an entire country’s government.

It comes down to power. The USA is the Top Dog of this planet, and the people running the USA are not going to “allow” anyone else to unseat us.

Whatever it takes to keep hold of our power, the people running our government seem willing to do.  Economic sanctions, trade war, election fraud, bribery, or, as we see with Sudan (and as we saw with Ukraine) the OVERTHROW of a government.

The USA will not be dislodged from its perch above the world and anyone who tries, gets crushed, ruined, destroyed, or dead.

That is what our country has become.

That is why much of the world is distancing itself from us, and from our currency.

Unless the American People step up to put a stop to the way our government is doing things, I FEAR our country will get stopped.  By Russian nuclear missiles.

What choice are we leaving the Russians?   We won’t leave them alone.  We’ve been surrounding their country for decades with more and more NATO members — all of whom then start aiming missiles at Russia.

We smash countries — like Syria — who are allied with Russia.  We takeover countries that we cannot induce to join NATO (i.e. Ukraine), and when Russia tries to peacefully negotiate a naval base on the Red Sea with Sudan, we are now overthrowing the Sudan government.

No matter what Russia does, we interfere.  Sometimes peacefully.  Sometimes legally.  Most times through Bribery and force.

Sooner or later, the Russians are going to realize that the USA simply will not stop; will not peacefully co-exist.

When that realization happens, there will be only one choice Russia has left: To either utterly destroy the United States, or capitulate to it.

The sleazy douchebags who infest the US Government think Russia will capitulate.   I think Russia will push the launch button.

Old-Fashioned Bread Pudding with Caramel Sauce

d726fe40478b2a6840768968104b47ab
d726fe40478b2a6840768968104b47ab

Yield: 6 servings

Equipment

  • Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

  • 4 slices day-old white bread
  • 4 tablespoons butter, divided
  • 1 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon brandy
  • 1 1/2 cups Half-and-Half
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 large egg yolks
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 2 cups water

Instructions

  1. Butter the bread with 2 tablespoons of the butter, then cut into cubes.
  2. Put the brown sugar in an even layer in the bottom of a 6 cup baking dish that fits comfortably inside the pressure cooker. Press any lumps from the sugar with the back of spoon.
  3. Cut the remaining 2 tablespoons butter into small pieces and dot over the sugar, then sprinkle with brandy. Add the cubed bread, but do not stir.
  4. Whisk the Half-and-Half with the eggs, egg yolks and vanilla extract. Pour over the bread, again without stirring.
  5. Cover the baking dish with foil so that no water can get inside. Pour 2 cups water into the bottom of the pressure cooker. Place the baking dish on a grid or in a steamer basket (whichever your cooker has) to get baking dish off bottom of cooker. Cover pressure cooker and bring up to medium pressure (10 pounds). Reduce heat to stabilize pressure and cook for 25 minutes. Release pressure and remove baking dish. Pour off any water that has accumulated on top of foil, then remove foil.
  6. Run a knife around the edges of baking dish to loosen pudding from the sides. Invert a serving plate over the top of the baking dish and quickly turn the two pieces over. Remove the baking pan. Serve bread pudding warm or at room temperature.
  7. When the pudding is inverted, you will see that the brown sugar butter and brandy have made a delicious caramel sauce. As there is no sugar in the pudding, be sure each serving gets a generous helping of the sauce.

Here’s a Liberal that actually “Gets it.” He really does!

I have found that rarest of ocassions where a Liberal REALLY DOES “get it” about the world, and what they’re heading into with Conservatives.  It ain’t pretty, but this guy delivers the ugly truth with terrific humor . . .

I especially like the part where he tells his fellow liberals “we’re gonna get butchered.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zPbA6Fr3Mo&embeds_euri=https%3A%2F%2Fhalturnerradioshow.com%2F&feature=emb_imp_woyt

Have You Noticed? NOTHING in the MSM about Ukraine

Clearly, “the word” has gone out.  Two days ago nearly 1 in 4 articles in the Main Stream Media (propaganda) feed were Ukraine stories.  Yesterday it dried up to under 1 in 20 articles as Ukraine stories.

Today: NOTHING.

The feeds haven’t been Ukraine-free like this for over a year.

It looks to me as though the memo went out; Ukraine is finished, no more coverage.

This entire Ukraine thing was clearly coordinated across the whole propaganda platform of MSM.   Very similar to the “mostly peaceful” coordination of Black Lives Matter riots in 2020. Also very similar to all MSM outlets being told to call the Waukesha Parade Massacre the Waukesha Parade Crash.

When every single outlet starts using the same ridiculous term at the exact same time . . . it was ordered.

When every single outlet drops the hottest set of propaganda stories about Ukraine at the same time . . . it was ordered.

Free press does not exist today.

Something is definitely up with Ukraine. They were pushing it at a thousand miles an hour and then it just slammed into a brick wall and we hear nothing at all.

One possibility is the story about Zelensky embezzling the $400 MILLION in Diesel fuel money.  That is definitely something the criminals in DC wish to keep out of the news.

Then too, it might also relate to the Classified documents allegedly released publicly by that 21 year old Airman via a Gamer chat forum.  Have you noticed the coverage . . . it’s all about “the leak” and not one word about the CONTENTS of the leak.

These documents PROVE the US and NATO have actual boots on the ground in Ukraine, engaged in actual fighting against Russia.   Not one peep about this from the MSM.  Why?

Because the government knows it has crossed the final red line with Russia by having boots on the ground, and government doesn’t want the American (or European) people to have any idea WHY Russia slams us, when that slamming takes place.  They want the public kept dumb.

Rabbit hole the whole thing then no one will know why Russia attacks the US.

Of course, Ukraine is losing to Russia even after the 100s of billions sent there by Biden . . . and . . . U.S. election campaigns for 2024 are getting ready to kick off.

How is Biden going to explain another Afghanistan debacle when the US/NATO tuck tail and run from Ukraine? So the MSM is quiet; thinking the country will focus on something else in the 72 hr news cycle.

Lastly, it could also be a lot more sinister. The PTB and NATO are about to escalate the war in Ukraine and they want no coverage while they start WW3.

US Rushes to Provoke War w/Growing Chinese Army: Admits Taiwan will be Destroyed

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Boy oh boy is the Geopolitical situation changing (with a good look at Vietnam)

Man, I can hardly keep up.

Today, we are going to enjoy contemporaneous Vietnamese pop music. Very, very popular in China and throughout SE Asia.

Man, oh man! Talk about color, and style.

Certainly SE Asia is not some third world banana republic any longer. Wow!

This is the same throughout the (rest of) the world. While the Untied States has been enjoying the fruits of looting, and unlimited spending, and fees, and excessive fees and taxes, the rest of the world has been quietly strengthening itself.

To understand what the new world is, you need to observe what is going on in the rest of the world. That means Asia and Africa.

If you are NOT AWARE how the rest of the world (outside of the West) has changed, you will never NEVER fully grasp how precarious the West is right now.

Do you hear me?

The world has REALLY changed.

Really.

It looks nothing like that old stale 1940’s , black and white, card-board cut-out imagery that the American / Western “news” portrays.

And that is a theme that all of us expats are trying to warn those whom remain inside the burning United States. It’s OVER. It has been over, and you all have no clue as to how far the United States has fallen.

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To hitch your nation to the dying zombie nation of the United States is absolute insanity. The world has moved on…

I strongly suggest you all watch every one of the Vietnamese videos here.

French Warship Transits Taiwan Strait With China’s Approval

Reporter/Provider – Alex Chen/Bryn Thomas/Charlie Storrar

Publish Date – 04/12/2023

This is after France agree not to be militarily hostile to China:

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Ma Ying-jeou’s mainland visit shows cross-Strait China-Taiwan kinship

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main qimg df678e4f1f6502f01c58d3ea43a82e1a

A spokesperson for the State Council Taiwan Affairs Office noted that the visit of Ma Ying-jeou, former chairman of the Chinese Kuomintang party, to the Chinese mainland, showed that compatriots on both sides of the Taiwan Strait are Chinese and of one family.

Ma’s visit drew wide attention from both sides of the Strait and received positive comments from the public, spokesperson Zhu Fenglian said Wednesday (April 12) at a press conference.

It has positive significance for promoting the exchanges between compatriots on both sides of the Strait and the peaceful development of cross-Strait relations, Zhu said.

The visit also showed the common hope of compatriots on both sides for cross-Strait peace, development, communication and cooperation, and manifested that the 1992 Consensus is the fundamental anchor for the peaceful development of cross-Strait relations, the spokesperson said.

Zhu expressed the hope that the compatriots on the two sides of the Strait join hands on the common political foundation of upholding the 1992 Consensus and securing the long-term welfare of the Chinese nation.

Làm gì phải Hốt – JustaTee x Hoàng Thùy Linh x Đen | Official Music Video

Macron Outlines Need for European Sovereignty

From VOA “news”

French President Emmanuel Macron Tuesday outlined his vision for European economic and industrial sovereignty during a visit to the Netherlands, following criticism over recent remarks about China and the United States.

Speaking at a Dutch research organization in The Hague, Macron said it was essential the European Union carve out an independent stance on five key areas, including trade, competitiveness and European industry. Embedded across all, he said, should be European values and goals in areas such as climate change. (What is European values? Colonialism? Imperialism? Bullying? Looting? Double standard? Fake news? Colour revolution funding? So Typical ash hole supremacist language)

“We want to be open,” said the president. “We want allies, we want good friends, we want partners. But we always want to be in a situation to choose them. Not to be 100 percent dependent on them.” (besides the crusader DNA countries keep doing that, who else?)

French President Emmanuel Macron, right, looks at demonstrators unfolding a banner that says “President of Violence and Hypocrisy” while he explains his vision of Europe during a lecture in The Hague, Netherlands, April 11, 2023.

Macron said Tuesday the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s war on Ukraine helped drive the need for an independent European strategy — not reliant, for example, on either Chinese or U.S. technology. (It is US that forced Europe choice, not Chinese. A balancing language to avoid upsetting the US too much?)

“Defending sovereignty doesn’t mean to shy away from allies,” he said. “It means we must be able to choose our partners and shape our own destiny, rather than being, I would say, a mere witness of the dramatic evolution of this world.”

Macron made his remarks during a state visit to the Netherlands — the first by a French president in more than two decades. The comments follow a controversial interview with French and U.S. media, when he reportedly warned against Europe becoming entangled in unrelated crises — apparently referring to Taiwan — and becoming too dependent on the United States for defense… read more…

Coq au Vin
(Cock with Red Wine and Mushrooms)

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a348f64c30c099d10a220b57fb259d88

Equipment

  • Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) chicken, cut up (or parts of choice)
  • 1 onion, sliced
  • 1 carrot, sliced
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 4 slices bacon
  • 1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced
  • 1 cup red wine
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons parsley, minced
  • 1 teaspoon chopped fresh basil or 1/2 teaspoon dry basil
  • 1 small bay leaf
  • 1 (16 ounce) can white onions, drained
  • 1/4 cup brandy

Instructions

  1. Coat chicken, onion and carrot in mixture of flour, salt and pepper; set aside.
  2. Fry bacon in a 4 or 6 quart pressure cooker until crisp; remove, crumble and set aside.
  3. Sauté mushrooms in bacon drippings; remove and set aside.
  4. Brown chicken a few pieces at a time; set aside.
  5. Brown onions and carrots, then return all chicken to the pot.
  6. Combine wine, garlic, parsley, basil and bay leaf; pour over chicken. Close pressure cooker securely. Place regulator on vent; cook for 8 minutes at 15 pounds pressure, with the regulator rocking slowly. Cool pressure cooker at once.
  7. Remove chicken and veggies to a warm serving dish.
  8. Add reserved mushrooms and the canned white onions to the liquid and simmer until heated through. Thicken if necessary (cornstarch slurry works fine). Add bacon and brandy; heat. Pour sauce over chicken and vegetables.

Hoàng Thùy Linh – Bánh Trôi Nước (Woman)

A personal favorite.

Classic Pin-Up Girls Before And After Editing: The Real Women Behind Those Gil Elvgren’s Incredible Paintings

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Ever wonder about the process that went on behind the scenes of those classic pin-up images that adorned the noses of bombers and the walls of soldiers barracks in the 1940s and ’50s? Anyone who’s familiar with pin up paintings will know the caricature-esque works of Gil Elvgren. His fantastical cheesecake pictures feature curvy 1950s women revealing their stockings – and sometimes a bit more – in a series of eyebrow-raising situations.

h/t: vintag.es

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It seems in the age before digital photo editing, it was paint which made women seem to posess an impossible beauty, as these erotic illustrations reveal. These great before and after images of 1950s pin-up girls will give you a sneak peak of the photograph that came before the artists rendering.

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Hoàng Thùy Linh – Kẻ Cắp Gặp Bà Già (Diamond Cut Diamond)| Official Music Video

Super popular inside of China.

The EU Trojan Horse: Poland, Romania and the Baltic States

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It is said that after a fruitless 10-year siege of Troy, the Greeks left a huge wooden horse outside the gates of the city and seemed to have sailed away. The occupants of Troy brought the horse into the city, only to find that night that it was full of Greek soldiers who opened the city gates so that the Greeks could take the city. Just as the occupants of Troy brought a poisoned gift into their city, the EU welcomed in Poland (2003), Romania (2007) and the Baltic states (2004). What they did not understand is that they were welcoming in states with elites (especially their diasporas) that have a searing visceral hatred of anything Russian and are happy US vassals. Any thought of a new Ostpolitik of the 1970s or the European friendship that Gorbachev wished for was off the table. In addition, the concurrent accession of these states into NATO broke the repeated promises of the West not to move NATO closer to Russia, negating the possibility of a zone of neutral peace.

The history of Poland (the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth from 1569-1795) and Russia is one of repeated wars. At its peak in the seventeenth century, the Commonwealth included most of what is now the Baltic States and Belarus and western Ukraine. In 1795 it was put to rest as what was left of it was dismembered between Austria, Prussia and Russia. Poland came back into being as part of the WW1 settlement, which also created the states of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia (as well as Finland). Poland invaded Russian territories during the Russian Civil War (Polish-Soviet War 1918-1921) in an attempt to rebuild the Commonwealth. This included the Polish-Ukrainian War of 1918-1919 against Ukrainian nationalists, with the latter forced into alliance with Poland. After being pushed back to Warsaw and nearly defeated, the Poles won the Battle of Warsaw (1920), and the Peace of Riga (1921) was signed that gave large areas of what is now western Belarus and Ukraine to Poland; areas that were predominantly Slavic not Polish. In 1939, the Soviet Union took back these territories, as well as the Baltic States, as part of its agreement with Germany. The territories taken back by the Soviet Union played a critical role in its survival of the 1941 German invasion, by moving the start line for that invasion (Barbarossa) hundreds of kilometres west. The Soviet Union had also forced the Finns to modify their border with the Soviet Union, to move it away from the Leningrad area. Poland, the Baltic States and Finland were all seen as putative allies of Germany in any invasion of the Soviet Union. At the time Poland was a majority peasant society, ruled by an authoritarian military regime (“regime of the colonels”) that was supported by the aristocracy and the landowning gentry. As Korbonski notes:

There is little doubt that interwar Poland presents a textbook case of what Huntington calls “oligarchical praetorianism.” In such societies, the dominant political forces tend to be the landowners, the clergy, and the military, with the last-mentioned exercising dominance.

Romania had gained Bessarabia after the collapse of the Russian Empire in 1918, but was forced to give it, as well as Northern Bukovina (the combination of which became the Moldovan Soviet Socialist Republic), to the Soviet Union in 1940. After the collapse of the Soviet Union these areas became the new nation-state of Moldova. This territorial change also pushed back the start line for Barbarossa, which Romania took an active part in as an ally of Germany. Pre-WW2 Romania was a majority peasant country, ruled over by a fascist dictatorship. Lithuania was a fascist one-party (Lithuanian Nationalist Union) authoritarian state, Latvia an authoritarian nationalist dictatorship, and Estonia a right-wing one-party (Patriotic League) authoritarian state.

I include the historical background above to combat much of the recent historical rewriting that serves to paint these nations, and their pre-WW2 leadership in as positive a light as possible. At the end of WW1, the new Soviet Union was “punished” by the other Allied nations through the taking of Russian lands to create Finland, the Baltic States and Poland; in addition to Western invasions of the Soviet Union in an attempt to crush the communist government. Poland and Romania also seized through wars of aggression other pieces of Russia. None of these states were democracies at the start of WW2, they were all highly antisemitic, and enemies of the Soviet Union. In 1940, the Soviet Union took back the lands taken by Poland and Romania, extinguished the Baltic States created from its territory at the end of WW1, and pushed back the Finnish border away from the critical Leningrad area. Without these moves, the Barbarossa offensive may have taken both Moscow and Leningrad in 1941 and Hitler may have gained his lebensraum. What would Eastern Europe and Russia look like today if that had happened? Those that wish to demonize the Soviet Union, and its progeny Russia, ignore and suppress these historical realities.

After WW2, the Soviet Union occupied Eastern Europe as a buffer against Western aggression, a position fully supported by the many European and Western attempts to subjugate Russia and then the Soviet Union. The historical enemies of Poland and Romania would be kept well under control, but not extinguished. Finland also had to accept some additional border changes but was not occupied by the Soviet Union. The Soviet-backed government of Poland was not the disaster many now claim, as it carried out land reform, eradicated illiteracy, provided universal healthcare and education, and established rapid industrialization and urbanization. The population of Poland doubled between 1947 and 1989 and many lower-class Poles had opportunities that they would never have had under previous administrations. The Polish crisis of the 1980s was the result of massive borrowing from the West in the 1970s that lead to severe economic conditions, even rationing, as Western interest rates rose as part of the Volcker Shock. This was the exacerbated by the economic disintegration of the Soviet Union toward the end of that decade. The Romanian experience of communism was much more brutal, but the extremes of the Ceausescu regime were due to the mass austerity imposed to pay off loans from the West; impoverishing the population.

In recent times, Romania has become a deeply corrupt state run by a kleptocracy, which is governed by a US and Western comprador elite and acts as a NATO forward base against Russia and pushes for integration with Moldova (recently with a “strategic partnership”) to reclaim the “lost” Bessarabia. A friend of mine recently visited Bucharest during a diplomatic summit and noted the difference between the modern rich center that the world tends to see and the sea of poverty that it sits within. An example of the deep corruption in Romania, not much has changed in the past few years since:

Read the REST HERE

Hoàng Thùy Linh – Lắm Mối Tối Ngồi Không (Run After Two Hares, Catch Nones) | Official Lyrics Video

Brisket and Beans

Cowboy Beans 3 1024x1536 1
Cowboy Beans 3 1024×1536 1

Equipment

  • Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) brisket
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 1/2 pounds fresh green beans
  • 6 potatoes, peeled, quartered
  • 1/4 teaspoon marjoram, crumbled
  • Salt, to taste
  • Pepper, to taste

Instructions

  1. Remove any excess fat from brisket.
  2. In a pressure cooker, bring brisket, water and seasonings to 15 pounds pressure and cook for 30 to 40 minutes.
  3. Reduce pressure under cold water.
  4. Open cooker, and add vegetables. Cover, then bring to 15 pounds pressure and cook 5 minutes; reduce pressure again.
  5. Remove meat, and slice thinly on the diagonal.
  6. Serve with green beans and potatoes drenched with cooking liquid. Do not thicken the natural gravy.

Hoàng Thuỳ Linh, Thanh Lam, Tùng Dương – Đánh Đố | Official Music Video

11 Illustrations That Show Just How Much The Internet Has Changed Our Lives

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None of us should ever succumb to panic — real life is definitely still out there despite the huge role that the Internet plays in modern life. Gadgets and technology play a part in our lives, but it really is just a part. Nevertheless, it’s funny to think about the hundreds of little ways these things have changed our behavior.

h/t: brightside

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Trưởng Nữ Chạy Trốn – Hoàng Thùy Linh (choreography by Pdragteam)

Top searches on Douyin: West-to-east green hydrogen transmission pipeline; Return of the panda

China has taken a significant step towards reducing its reliance on fossil fuels and transitioning towards renewable energy.

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today we’re shifting gears to bring you the latest trends and searches on Douyin, the Chinese equivalent of TikTok.

China plans to build its first west-to-east hydrogen pipeline to transfer clean fuel more effectively, which will provide Beijing with a direct supply of green hydrogen.

In other news, the long-awaited return of Ya Ya the panda to China is finally about to happen. While some may consider this a minor event, the Chinese government’s response demonstrates their serious commitment to the well-being of their “national treasures” and their desire to prevent further escalation of tensions with the US, at least on this issue.


Tuesday’s top 10 trending searches on Douyin (the Chinese equivalent of TikTok) as of 5:00 p.m. (0900 GMT):

#1 Celebrities in slo-mo

六公主高速慢镜头群星大片

2022-2023 M-Chart of China Movie Channel & the Ceremony of Chinese Movie Data (2022-2023年度电影频道M榜暨中国电影大数据盛典), held in Jingzhou, central China’s Hubei Province, on Sunday presents a star-studded collection of slo-mo full shots in which Chinese celebrities (mostly actresses) spined and posed for the HD camera.

#2 Livestreamer jobs closed to the less-educated

张兰称不会再招低学历主播

Zhang Lan, the renowned entrepreneur and founder of the popular restaurant chain “Qiao Jiang Nan” (俏江南), recently shared a video in which she announced that she will no longer be hiring less-educated livestreamers, whom she referred to as “little wild children” and “bad apples”. Zhang started from scraps, had her ups and downs, and now livestreams every day promoting “Ma Liu Ji” instant foods, her newest venture. She explained in the video that the less educated tend to get full of themselves, a remark agreed by most of the comments.

#3 China to build first west-to east green hydrogen pipeline

首条西氢东送管道纳入国家规划

China plans to build its first west-to-east hydrogen pipeline to transfer clean fuel more effectively and the project has been included in the country’s oil and gas network construction plan, according to Xinhua on Monday. The pipeline will extend for over 400km, transmitting hydrogen from Ulanqab, north China’s Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region, to the capital Beijing, helping alleviate the mismatch between the supply and demand of green hydrogen in resources-rich west and energy-consuming east.

#4 Private donation of 200,000 yuan to shared kitchen for cancer patients

好心人向抗癌厨房捐款20万

An anonymous donor offered 200,000 yuan (about 29,000 U.S. dollars) in cash to a charity kitchen in Zhengzhou, central China’s Henan Province. The kitchen, which opened nine years ago near Zhengzhou Cancer Hospital, has been a haven of hope for disease-stricken families. Family members of cancer patients can pay 5 yuan to get unlimited access to the cooking facilities and condiments. The anonymous donation is only part of the timely help as the kitchen struggles financially.

#5 Father embarks on a quest for trafficked son

杜小华重走儿子被拐之路

The boy nicknamed “little Mickey” was six years old when he was abducted. In 2014, Dearest (亲爱的), a movie about lost children which took inspiration from his story drew increasing attention to Du Xiaohua, his father. Having searched for his son for more than ten years, Du has gone on a new journey to north China’s Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region to follow up a new lead. He called for the human trafficker and the buyer of his son to come forward and reach a compromise. The successful retrieval of another trafficked boy, Sun Zhuo, in 2021, serves as a motivation for the father.

#6 A young Chinese coast guard dies in preventing and counter-smuggling

海警执法员缉私战斗中牺牲

Wang Xiaolong, a 27-year-old Chinese police officer from Guangdong (south Chinese province) Coast Guard, sacrificed his life in an investigation of smuggling cases in the early morning of March 24, according to China Coast Guard. When fighting against the outlaw, Wang braved danger and charged forward, but unfortunately fell into the sea. Many Chinese citizens commented on the sad news to pay tribute to the heroic sacrifice.

#7 Intelligence leak: US has been spying on Zelensky

泄密门显示美国一直监视乌总统

The incident of leaking alleged classified US military documents has sparked heated discussion worldwide. According to CNN on Monday, one of the leaked documents reveals that the US has been spying on Zelensky, and the leak deeply frustrated Ukrainian officials, and it is reported that Ukraine has already altered some of its military plans due to the leak.

#8 Rare aquatic wild animal first seen in south China

广西首次发现罕见物种淡水蛏

Novaculina chinensis, a national second-class protected aquatic wild animal which usually appeared in east China’s Jiangsu and Zhejiang province, has recently been found on a riverbed in Henzhou City, south China’s Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, according to CCTVnews. Novaculina chinensis is one of the three species of freshwater razor clam genus Novaculina, which represents an example of a marine-derived, secondary freshwater group that lives in the mud under fresh water, and occurs at the lower Yangtze River in China, according to a scientific report. Some netizens from Guangxi remarked that the appearance of Novaculina chinensis proves the good environment in Guangxi because the species has high requirements for water quality.

#9 Liu Yan wants to play Mother of Jackson Yee

柳岩想演易烊千玺的妈妈

Liu Yan, a Chinese actress, hostess and singer, in an entertainment interview, expressed her admiration for many senior Hong Kong celebrities both in their appearance and performance, such as Tony Leung, one of Asia’s most successful and internationally recognized actors, and Chingmy Yau, a retired actress popular in the late 1980s. When asked about the promising younger generation actor in her eyes, Liu proposed Jackson Yee, a 22-year-old popular Chinese singer, dancer and actor, and she hopes to play his mother or elderly sister if there is a chance for cooperation in film and television works.

#10 China ready for the return of Ya Ya the panda

中方已经做好迎接丫丫回国各项准备sea

China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said in the daily briefing on Tuesday that the return of Ya Ya, the giant panda on a 20-year loan to Memphis Zoo in the U.S., is well-prepared and will proceed as soon as possible. Ya Ya is in stable health, said the spokesperson, with bald spots as a result of her skin disease. The health condition of Ya Ya has recently come under intensive scrutiny of Chinese netizens, and many suspect Memphis Zoo of maltreatment.


#3 China to build first west-to east green hydrogen pipeline

China plans to build its first west-to-east hydrogen pipeline to transfer clean fuel more effectively and the project has been included in the country’s oil and gas network construction plan, according to Xinhua on Monday, informed by Sinopec, China’s largest oil and gas giant, which is also the operator of the pipeline.

The pipeline will extend for over 400 km, transmitting hydrogen from Ulanqab, north China’s Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region, to the capital Beijing, with an initial capacity of handling 100,000 tons per year and the potential to increase 500,000 tons in the long run, according to Sinopec chairman Ma Yongsheng.

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2023 04 13 18 23

The project will help alleviate the mismatch between the supply and demand of green hydrogen in resources-rich west and energy-consuming east, playing a pioneering role in trans-regional transmission and promoting the national energy upgrade, such as replacing the current hydrogen production from fossil fuels in the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei region, Ma added.

The country’s oil and gas network construction plan was released by the National Energy Administration in March and reaffirmed at the national oil and gas pipeline planning construction and protection work conference on April 6, aiming at detailing the implementation of medium and long-term oil and five-year gas pipeline network planning and pipeline construction tasks.


#10 China ready for the return of Ya Ya the panda

Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Wang Wenbin’s Regular Press Conference on April 11, 2023

Dragon TV: Recently, the Memphis Zoo in the US held a farewell party for the giant panda Ya Ya, whose health conditions have been on the mind of many internet users in China. Do you have any updates on the giant panda’s return to China?

Wang Wenbin: … At present, an expert from the Chinese Association of Zoological Gardens and two technicians from the Beijing Zoo are now working with the Memphis Zoo on the caring of the giant panda and they have got a general understanding of the daily care of Ya Ya. The overall condition of the giant panda is relatively stable except for the fur condition caused by skin disease. The Chinese side has already made preparations to welcome Ya Ya home in terms of quarantine sites, living quarters, feeding plans, medical care and feed supplies.

Ya Ya had her farewell party on Saturday in Memphis, Tennessee, while a memorial for Le Le went on display at the zoo. The two pandas have been at the center of a whirlwind of disputes as to whether they have been underfed, neglected, or even abused.

Ya Ya, born on 3 August 2000 in Beijing, may look different from what comes to mind when people think of giant pandas. She has a chronic skin condition, a fact acknowledged by Memphis Zoo, that results in shedding and patchiness. Le Le, who was sent to Memphis Zoo with Ya Ya in 2003, also had significant teeth issues resulting in broken molars.

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2023 04 13 18 e23

Giant panda Ya Ya and her farewell cake at Memphis Zoo in Memphis, Tennessee, U.S., Apr. 8, 2023.

Stories of Ya Ya’s suffering have been spreading for some years, but things really took off after Le Le died shortly before his due return to China on Feb. 1, when he was 24 years old. The life expectancy of a giant panda in the wild is about 15 years, but in captivity they have lived to be as old as 38. Exponential attention was paid after Le Le’s death on the surviving Ya Ya, who was reported to be given insufficient bamboos and barely any treats or supplements. Some claimed that Ya Ya was often begging for food, after watching the live animal cams of the Memphis Zoo.

The Chinese Association of Zoological Gardens(CAZG) released a statement on March 10, 2022, acknowledging both pandas were underweight and suggested Memphis Zoo improve their diets by increasing food variety and protein sources to improve nutrition and help them gain weight. However, their blood test and imageological scans showed no diseases whatsoever, and although the CAZG has come up with no explanation of Ya Ya’s skin condition, it confirmed that it was hereditary and subject to seasons and hormone fluctuations.

The CAZG statement has only exacerbated the fury and patriotism of Chinese netizens. On Weibo, the Chinese equivalent of Twitter, #overhaulCAZG has received over 36,000 reads, and many accuse the association of corruption and neglect. On Mar. 18, Chinese experts came to Memphis Zoo to oversee Ya Ya’s living conditions and negotiate the procedures of her return. On Apr. 11, it is finally announced that the preparations are complete.

There are some people, however, who support the CAZG and claim there is nothing inappropriate with Ya Ya’s treatment. Their argument boils down to two points: 1) Ya Ya’s condition is genetic. 2) Stories about the mistreatment of Ya Ya and Le Le are false information.

For a start, Ya Ya is genetically flawed, with her mother and grandmother both artificially inseminated. It is even possible that her mother was father-to-daughter inbred. To date, Ya Ya is the only surviving offspring of a total of twelve of her mother’s children. As to the second question, they argue that the video clips showing Ya Ya’s sufferings are maliciously edited and that the Memphis Zoo has a good record of caring for giant pandas.

But it seems that the discussions have already moved on from the zoological realm. “No more neglect. No more loans. No more experiments. The dignity of the state is not to be trampled upon”, reads one comment on Weibo which garners more than 3,800 likes. “I am grateful to my strong motherland for Ya Ya’s safe passage home,” says one comment on Douyin. “I hope all the pandas who are suffering in the U.S. Can return to China,” says another.


Greek Meatballs and Spaghetti Sauce

53044c7cc5c83dfd630f49a933228b9a greek meatballs spaghetti and meatballs
53044c7cc5c83dfd630f49a933228b9a greek meatballs spaghetti and meatballs

Equipment

  • Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

Meatballs

  • 1 pound beef, veal and pork ground together (or ground turkey)
  • 1/4 cup sherry
  • 1 egg, lightly beaten
  • 1 medium size onion, minced
  • 2 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 2 slices bread, finely crumbled (store bought bread crumbs if you want)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • 1/2 cup olive oil or less
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried mint

Sauce

  • 1 large onion, minced
  • 4 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 2 slices bacon, diced (optional)
  • 2 carrots, coarsely diced
  • 1/3 cup chopped parsley
  • 1 (29 ounce) can tomato sauce
  • 1 cup beef broth or stock
  • 2 tablespoons sherry
  • 2 tablespoons light brown sugar
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 2 tablespoons dried oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground fennel
  • 1/2 teaspoon mint
  • 2 bay leaves
  • Cooked pasta or rice to serve

Instructions

  1. Prepare meatballs. Set aside.

Meatballs

  1. Combine meat, sherry and the egg in a bowl. Add onion, garlic, bread crumbs and seasonings. Knead until completely mixed. Shape into walnut-size meatballs. Do not over-handle or they will be tough.

Sauce

  1. In a pressure cooker, sauté onion, garlic, tomato paste, bacon, carrots, and parsley over medium-high heat for 3 minutes. Add tomato sauce or puree, broth, sherry, brown sugar, salt, pepper flakes, oregano, fennel, mint and bay leaves. Stir to combine, and add meatballs. Secure lid. Over medium-high heat develop steam to high pressure. Reduce heat to maintain pressure and cook 10 minutes.
  2. Release pressure according to manufacturer’s directions. Remove lid. Gently stir meatballs in sauce. Discard bay leaves. Let stand 5 minutes.
  3. Skim fat from surface.
  4. In a pressure cooker, sauté meatballs in hot oil over high heat until lightly browned. Cook about 10 meatballs at a time, turning with tongs.

Hoàng Thùy Linh – Duyên Âm (Love of Ghost) | Official Music Video

Five Warning Signs:-

Sign One:-

She expects you to pay for everything from the very first date or within the first 10 dates.

Going Dutch is the norm for any girl except for treats (50–50 or paying alternatively)

Sign Two:-

She expects you to improve your behaviour or parts of your personality from the first date or within the first ten dates

The usual norm is after 10 dates she says “Look I really like you but you eat too fast or you swear too much or you slouch toi much, will you please correct it”

Sign Three:-

She is dismissive to things you hold very dear from the very first date or within the first 10 dates

The norm is to nod her head when you praise Modi or Kohli or some random German writer she has never heard of

Then after enough familiarity, she will say “Please shut up. It bores me”

That’s perfectly normal

Sign Four:-

She talks too much of her boyfriend even if its angry stuff

It means you could be a rebound or she isn’t over him

The norm is she won’t want to talk about him initially and later doesn’t care about him enough to talk about him

Sign Five:-

She is dismissive about Parents or your mother or excessive caring by parents

Talent at the Top

Why China Leads the World

Apr 21, 2023

Them

300,000 Chinese people have an IQ above 160¹, which means they can do highly innovative work in quantum physics and mathematics and invent sciences and win Nobels, and all of them work for the Government of China as officials, academics or researchers.

For fifty generations, China’s geniuses have always become government officials because, well, because China only allows geniuses run the country. No-one else need apply.

Young geniuses with political ambitions live in the poorest villages until they raise incomes 50%. Then, if their KPIs remain high for a quarter century, they might ascend to Beijing, official Valhalla.

Two geniuses – one ran the space program, and his buddy who designed its rockets – were made Provincial Governors², each responsible for 5% economic growth in his province, for environmental improvement, for a dozen KPIs, and for delivering their share of the Five Year Plan.

In preparation for their career change, they went back to school. They spent a semester at the most exclusive university on earth, the lakeside campus of the Central Party School in Beijing. There they hung out with world thinkers who earn small fortunes for giving seminars to promising officials and yakking about the future. A Hungarian economist friend, who had heard about the School’s generosity, waited until he was seated on the ‘plane to open his honorarium envelope, “My hands shook. I actually wept. The next week, I paid off the mortgage, bought my wife a car, and left the rest in the bank”.

Xi Jinping began his cursus honorum² at the same age as Cicero, by being elected Village Party Secretary at nineteen. His KPIs were excellent for 25 years, and he picked up a Master’s in Marxist economics and a PhD in rural marketization. An Oxford PhD and African developmental economist attending a conference in Beijing was astonished to find herself sipping tea with Xi and his translator in his office, gabbing about Chinese aid hits and misses. Xi, incidentally, is held responsible for the same KPIs and the same Five Year goals. All of them.

Despair

President Trump despaired, “People say I don’t like China? No, I love them! But their leaders are much smarter than ours. And we can’t maintain ourselves against that. It’s like playing the New England Patriots and Tom Brady against your high school football team.” His elaboration on Xi’s personal qualities is interesting:

Us

30,000 (note4) Westerners have an IQ above 160, but none of them will ever govern a state, let alone a country. Honesty is fatal in our politics, and smart people are honest.

In addition to their lack of intelligence, education and morality, our officials are unaccountable and have no goals. Most have never accomplished anything beyond winning an election, as their disastrous policies make clear.

Let’s not beat a dead horse. There’s no way on God’s earth the West can compete with China, as Lee Kwan Yew (note 5) warned decades ago, “The size of China’s displacement of the world balance is such that the world must find a new balance. It is not possible to pretend that this is just another big player. This is the biggest player in the history of the world”.

If you’re interested in how China actually works, read Why China Leads the World: Talent at the Top, Data in the Middle, Democracy from the Bottom. To learn how Chinese officialdom works, read Dean of Shandong, whose author, Daniel Bell, was a Chinese Government official in this lifetime.

1

IQ is distributed logarithmically and since China’s national IQ is 105, its 1.4 billion citizens harbor 300,000 of them. 95% of us have IQ’s under 130, so theoretical physics is probably beyond us.

2

There are typically 3 levels of civil service between a provincial governor and the President of China. At the provincial level, the governor is considered a level-1 official. Above the governor are level-2 officials who are responsible for larger regions or multiple provinces, such as the vice-ministers in various ministries of the central government. Level-3 officials are the highest-ranking officials in the country and are responsible for national policies and decision-making. The President of China is a level-3 official.

3

the sequential order of public offices held by aspiring politicians in the Roman Republic and early Empire.

4

Because China’s median IQ is 105+ and the West’s is 100- and because IQ is logarithmic and because China has twice as many people.

5

Lee graduated at the top of his year at Cambridge – he was a genius who ran his country well. He. His Prime Minister son outshone him – in mathematics. Singapore will succeed if it keeps Prime Ministerial IQ above 130? China’s has probably not been below 130 since 505 AD.

On 2023/4/15, US Secretary A Blinken visited Vietnam & met Vietnamese Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh. In the meeting room, there was a Vietnamese national flag. But absolutely no US flag.

This is unheard of in diplomacy.

Pham told Blinken:

We Vietnamese do not take sides. We can decide what is righteous & fair (to us).

Vietnam is communist. While USA propagates communist as evil, USA is befriending communist Vietnam. Haha.

2 points here:

[1], It is proof that communism is NOT the problem for USA. It is China. USA is paranoid about China surpassing it. That is all. Hence USA uses “communism” to scare Americans. Don’t forget. USA befriended communist China in 1972 to “fight” the strong USSR.

[2], USA uses Vietnam to encircle China.

USA is infamous in gossiping & breaking up friendship between countries. We witness the mess in Middle East caused by USA.

Blinken has 2 missions.

  • One, for the opening of a new US embassy in Vietnam.
  • Two, befriend Vietnam to encircle China.

USA delivered a 3rd naval cutter to support Vietnam coast guard in South China Sea. Security is US concern, Blinken said. (It is said that the cutter is pretty old.)

The Chinese embassy in Vietnam responded:

"all countries in the region of SCS work together to maintain peace in the region. Any outsider is malicious & to sow discord in the region."

Who is the outsider? USA because USA is many thousands of miles away from SCS.

There is a saying circulating around:

Vietnam was not afraid of USA some 40 years ago in Vietnam war. Neither is it afraid today.

Quite similar to what former Chinese Diplomat Yang Jiechi rebuked Blinken in the 2021 Alaska meeting:

"USA is not qualified to talk to China this way. Not today. Not 20 years ago. Not 40 years ago. China will not take it. "

MLEM MLEM | MIN X JUSTATEE X YUNO BIGBOI | OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO

Africa is replacing the United States and Europe as a major middle class of value

So the USA raised the retirement age from 64 to 67. Phew! It’s a good thing that I applied for it early. Damn! I’d be forever waiting for this fucking stipend otherwise. Sheech!

Now this…

2023 04 06 09 36
2023 04 06 09 36

Freedom of speech and press. No longer exists in the USA.

Period.

Why would there need to be a Global Reserve Currency in the first place?

You see what happened to the US Dollar right?

As the US Dollar debts bloated more and more and more, the US survived entirely due to more and more Global circulation of the US Dollars

Initially the US had the TRADE DOMINANCE to keep the Dollar as a Reserve

In 1986 – the US dominated 47.72% trade and had a reserve currency percentage of around 73%

In 2022 – The US had a 15.2% trade and a reserve currency percentage of 56%

You see the difference?

Printed Dollars fled to different nations in various forms and protected the Average American from the impacts like Inflation

Every Dollar represents an IOU from the US Treasury to the holder

So technically the US holds a debt of almost $ 107 Trillion from its institutions and it’s capital markets and debts

As the US Dollar loses hold over the world and as the world begins to move to Economics over Politics, the US Dollar loses appeal and more people will begin to prefer other currencies or Gold Or Trade Barter

So what happens next?

All those US Dollars come HOME

In 2019 if you have $ 26 Billion of Trade in a single day, almost 67% went into foreign accounts of other nations and only around 30% returned to the US , keeping the Dollar Supply restricted

Today out of $ 26 Billion of Trade , only 55.8% goes into Foreign Accounts ensuring more and more Dollars come back to US Accounts

That’s 11.2% gone in a mere 4 years

Add to that newly printed Biden Dollars – $ 9.32 Trillion of them over 3 years

That’s BAD

That means US Citizens for the first time in say 15 years actually suffer Real Inflation and More Inflation

It’s ADANI GROUP except on a much larger scale

It’s a $ 107 Trillion Debt against an Asset base of barely $ 14.7 Trillion of Actual Core Assets

All because USD was a Global Reserve Currency beyond 2001


Let’s see China Today

China is in a Beautiful Position today

It’s economy is wonderfully controlled with a mere 2.14% Inflation because of it’s exchange rate with the Dollar of almost 7 instead of a more realistic 4.23–4.61

China dominates 21.6% Global Trade and the Yuan has a 2.85% Global Share

THIS ALLOWS CHINA TO KEEP THINGS ECONOMICAL IN CHINA YET HAVE ENORMOUS FINANCIAL CLOUT GLOBALLY

The Yuan is non convertible and that protects China from any foreign interference

Now Yuans share can rise to maybe 15% or maximum 20%

However if Yuans share goes to 60% like the Dollar, then China will start rising it’s Debt everywhere and abandon it’s Yuan – Remimbi system and end up in a bad way

Instead THERE SHOULD BE NO GLOBAL RESERVE CURRENCY

Instead maybe a Basket of Pegged Values like Oil, Food, Gold and Yuan and Rubles and a few other currencies to develop a GLOBAL CURRENCY

Like there was once

A Wonderful Pegged Resource called GOLD

Sleepwalkers

  • This sucker is going down.
  • Godfree Roberts

In January last year I published (NYT, FT, etc.) three claims, hoping to provoke responses from American readers, making sure that they could dispute my claims. I tracked their engagement until, late last week, a million folks had read at least one of the three:

  1. Social Claim: There are more hungry children, drug addicts, suicides, executions, and illiterate, incarcerated, poor, homeless people in America than in China. 62% of Americans own homes compared to 96% of Chinese, and American families’ net worth, $97,000, is a fraction of Chinese families’ $363,000 PPP, which is also more equitably distributed.
  2. Military Claim: China’s 340-ship navy will have 400 boats eighteen months from now, while the US hopes to grow from 290 vessels now to 300 by 2030. PLAN boats are newer and, thanks to advanced propellants, explosives, and terminal guidance systems, their 10x more numerous missiles outrange America’s. Their fleet sails under an umbrella of satellites and drones that guide 1,000-round salvoes of shore-to-ship missiles that destroy fleets in minutes, and hundreds of ballistic missiles that can sink a carrier in Darwin Port.
  3. Economic Claim: China’s peacetime GDP is $30 trillion, America’s is $25 trillion PPP. China’s will add $1 trillion this year and can maintain that pace through 2049 while the US struggles to add one-fourth of that. China’s productive –wartime – economy, is three times bigger and more diverse than America’s service-based economy.

2023 04 06 19 33
2023 04 06 19 33

Heartbreaking Truth #1

Clearly, the US has passed the culminating point of its 170-year-long assault on China: it can no longer mount an attack with a reasonable prospect of success, or even survival. General Milley has begun lowering expectations, especially important after Afghanistan and Ukraine. Western elites, usually eager to exchange our lives for their status, find the prospect of nuclear dematerialization by one of China’s bigger, faster, ICBMs unattractive, making a shooting war unlikely.

Heartbreaking Truth #2

One million educated, engaged readers read at leas one of my claims. None seriously challenged them. Make of that what you will, but I suspect that despair plays a part. Besides, who wants to be the bearer of evil tidings?

The Bearer of Evil Tidings

The bearer of evil tidings, When he was halfway there, Remembered that evil tidings Were a dangerous thing to bear.

So when he came to the parting Where one road led to the throne And one went off to the mountains And into the wild unknown,

He took the one to the mountains. He ran through the Vale of Cashmere, He ran through the rhododendrons Till he came to the land of Pamir.

And there in a precipice valley A girl of his age he met Took him home to her bower, Or he might be running yet.

She taught him her tribe’s religion: How ages and ages since A princess en route from China To marry a Persian prince

Had been found with child; and her army Had come to a troubled halt. And though a god was the father And nobody else at fault,

It had seemed discreet to remain there And neither go on nor back. So they stayed and declared a village There in the land of the Yak.

And the child that came of the princess Established a royal line, And his mandates were given heed to Because he was born divine.

And that was why there were people On one Himalayan shelf; And the bearer of evil tidings Decided to stay there himself.

At least he had this in common With the race he chose to adopt: They had both of them had their reasons For stopping where they had stopped.

As for his evil tidings, Belshazzar’s overthrow, Why hurry to tell Belshazzar What soon enough he would know?

I Drove Around California For A Month. It Was A Disaster.

Traditional Beatdown (AKA Being ‘Jumped In’)

Probably the most common method of gang initiation is the classic “beatdown” (aka being “jumped in”). It involves the wannabe gangster fighting a specific number of the gang’s members for a certain amount of time. The wannabe must withstand the beating as well as fight back.

Most gangs have a variation of this method, including “The Line.” Candidates are kicked and punched repeatedly as they walk between two lines of gang members. The prospect must make it to the end of the line while still on his feet. If he doesn’t, he can try again on another day when his bruises and wounds have healed.

But even this method can be deadly . . .

In 2010, a senior from the University of Arkansas was beaten for three minutes as part of a jump-in for the Bloods gang. He suffered irreparable blunt force trauma to his head and died at the hospital an hour later.

I have always said Business is Business

Japanese Investments in China for 2020–2021 hit $ 30.8 Billion of which 86% or approximately $ 28 Billion was by the Tech Industries.

Here are the distributions

  1. Renewable Energy – 37.7%
  2. High Speed Infrastructure – 24.3%
  3. Finance and Domestic Luxury Retail – 14.2%

In 2019–2020, it was $ 18.4 Billion.

Why?

Simple. Japanese Businessmen want the best returns and its China that provides the returns

The rest is Politics

Thats why most Japanese Businesses that wanted to leave China in 2020 have tucked their tail and returned back despite a 32% rise in wages sanctioned by the CPC in 2021.

As Mehmood said The Whole Thing that ki Bhaiyya Sabse Bada Rupaiyya

‘Jacked In’

Being “jacked in” is a street-savvy term for committing an auto theft in the hopes of becoming a gang member.

It works like this: To show his “earning ability” for the gang, a prospective member will steal a car (usually at gunpoint), convincing the higher-ups of his gall. If successful, he’s accepted as a full member.

In January 2008, 17-year-old Charles Brown hopped into the back seat of a parked car in Kiamesha Lake, New York. The back seat already had three passengers. Brown then pointed a gun at the driver, forcing him to relinquish the vehicle. Later, police learned that this had been an initiation attempt for a local Crips gang.

French Keep Dining While Protest Fires Burn Outside

What a time to be alive!

Kidnapping

To prove themselves worthy of induction into the Vatos Locos gang, Jose Cruz and Hugo Torres of North Carolina spawned a national manhunt in 2011 after allegedly kidnapping a man and holding him at gunpoint during a robbery. Police said that the criminals drove the man to a secluded mobile home. There, he was beaten before finally being able to free himself and run for help.

All of this was done as part of the initiation of Cruz and Torres into a local Hispanic street gang.

In another crime in June 2013, Mexican soldiers were able to rescue 165 people—including women and children—who had been savagely kidnapped and held for ransom by Mexican cartel gangs.

Melitzanosalata

2023 04 06 09 40
2023 04 06 09 40

Ingredients

  • 3 whole medium eggplants, approximately 4 pounds, washed
  • 1/2 cup canned whole tomatoes, chopped, juices strained
  • 3/4 cup white onion, peeled and finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, peeled and very finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup goat’s milk yogurt (may substitute strained conventional yogurt, method follows)
  • 1/3 cup red wine vinegar
  • 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
  • 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1-3 tablespoons seltzer water
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley, washed and dried
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano
  • Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Instructions

  1. Prepare a grill (you may also broil the eggplant). Pierce eggplant with a fork and grill, turning frequently to prevent burning Cook until the skin becomes black and the eggplant is soft, about 10-15 minutes. Remove and cool on a wire rack over a baking sheet, to catch the juices.
  2. When eggplant is cool, peel the skin and coarsely chop. Discard the juices.
  3. Place the paddle attachment on a standing mixer. Add the eggplant and tomato, onion and garlic, and mix on medium speed for 1 minute. Stop the machine and add the yogurt. Mix on medium for 1 more minute.
  4. With mixer on medium speed, slowly add the vinegar and lemon juice. Continue mixing; slowly add the olive oil. Add seltzer water as needed to reach desired consistency; slightly thick, but light and relatively loose.
  5. Add parsley, oregano and salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate overnight and serve.
  6. To prepare the yogurt: You’ll need 1/2 cup yogurt to make 1/4 cup strained for this recipe. Line a strainer with cheese cloth and set over a bowl (the bowl should support the strainer so it does not touch the bottom). Put the yogurt in the strainer and let it drain overnight. Discard the liquid and use the strained yogurt as directed.

‘Sexed In’

Most gangs aren’t prejudiced against the idea of recruiting female members. As such, a special initiation process is involved. According to the Florida Gang Reduction website, a female recruit sometimes has to roll two dice. Then she has sex with that number of gang members.

Isha Nembhard, a former female gang member from London, said that women being prostituted as induction into a gang is common.

“A lot of girls are sort of prostituting themselves to have sexual relationships within a gang and get treated in a bad way,” she said. “For example, she might know about what happens to girls in the gang but still sleeps with all of them just for the status.”

Libianca – People (Check On Me) [Official Music Video]

African pop music.

Gang Rape

Once believed to be nothing more than a sensationalized “rumor,” rape is a very active and brutal method of initiation for some gangs. Eight teenagers from a California outfit known as the “South Side Mafia” were accused in 2011 of luring an 11-year-old girl into a park bathroom where they took turns raping her as part of an initiation rite.

In Albuquerque, New Mexico, gangs created the ruse of inviting female mall shoppers to a “party” where they would be locked in a room and repeatedly raped by inductees. Given the choice between a traditional “jump-in” (being beaten into the gang) or raping a female, prospective gang members choose rape far more often in Albuquerque.

Vatican renounces ‘Doctrine of Discovery.’ When will Supreme Court do likewise?

Richard Becker

April 2, 2023

More than five centuries after it was formulated in a series of papal decrees, the Vatican issued a formal announcement on March 30 repudiating the Euro-supremacist “Doctrine of Discovery.” In essence, the “doctrine” said that all lands not occupied by “Christians” passed into the hands of the European conquerors as soon as they were “discovered,” and their inhabitants enslaved.

Composed of decrees issued between 1452 and 1497, it served as the quasi-legal justification for the expropriation of entire continents in the name of spreading the Catholic faith. The repudiation by the Pope is the culmination of decades of struggle by Indigenous peoples in the United States, Canada and around the world demanding its withdrawal.

But while the Pope has now renounced it, the U.S. Supreme Court has not. The high court continues to treat the “doctrine” as an integral basis of U.S. law, particularly in regard to the rights — or lack thereof — of Native peoples.

Most notable in recent times was a 2005 decision authored by the late liberal Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg which invoked the “Doctrine of Discovery” in her majority ruling against the Oneida Indian Nation. The Oneidas were seeking to recover lands and rights in central New York State guaranteed to them under the 1794 Treaty of Canandaigua treaty with the U.S., signed by George Washington, then president.

The Oneidas, one of the six nations of the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy were awarded 300,000 acres “in perpetuity” by the treaty. By the 20th century, nearly all of that land had been taken over. In the 1970s, the Oneidas began buying small parcels on what had been their reservation land, including in the small city of Sherill, New York. They objected to the demand by the city that they pay property taxes on the basis that they were a sovereign nation. While the Oneidas won in lower federal courts, the Supreme Court ruled against them 8-1, with Ginsburg authoring the decision:

“Under the Doctrine of Discovery, title to the land occupied by Indians when the colonists arrived became vested in the sovereign – first the discovering European nation and later the original states and the United States . . .

“Given the longstanding non-Indian character of the area and its inhabitants, the regulatory authority constantly exercised by New York State and its counties and towns, and the Oneidas’ long delay in seeking judicial relief against parties other than the United States, we hold that the tribe cannot unilaterally revive its ancient sovereignty, in whole or in part, over the parcels at issue.”

In 2020, the Supreme Court by a 5-4 vote upheld the right of Native nations to reservations that would have included nearly half of Oklahoma. While this was a victory for a coalition of Native nations, right-wing justice Neil Gorsuch wrote the majority opinion upholding the government’s power to deny the right of self-determination to Indian peoples.

“Once a reservation is established, it retains that status until Congress explicitly indicates otherwise,” wrote Gorsuch. “Only Congress can alter the terms of an Indian treaty by diminishing a reservation, and its intent to do so must be clear and plain.”

How did a loathsome “doctrine” authored in feudal times come to have what liberal and conservative Supreme Court justices alike consider a legitimate basis in U.S. law?

It was the Supreme Court itself that incorporated the “doctrine” into U.S. law, which became foundational in dealing with Native nations, in a key 1823 case, Johnson v. McIntosh.

The decision by Chief Justice John Marshall, declared that, in keeping with the “Doctrine of Discovery,” Native people had only the “right to occupancy” of land and not the right to title or ownership. Only the federal government, Marshall ruled, could own and sell Native lands and that “the principle of discovery gave European nations an absolute right to New World lands”

Following the Vatican’s repudiation, the struggle will intensify for the U.S. government to do the same.

Cutting And Slashing

In 2008, three kids from a Coney Island school were charged by police after cutting over a dozen other students with a razor as initiation into a local MS-13 gang. While some students willingly rolled up their sleeves, those who didn’t were pressed against a desk and cut forcibly.[6]

Elsewhere in New York, a pair of similar incidents took place in 1999 when six members of a Bloods gang attacked a woman on a train. They cut her with razors and stabbed her. Two days later, another woman was robbed of her jewelry. During the crime, her face was slashed so viciously that it required 150 stitches.

Karithopita (Greek Honey Walnut Cake)

Karidopita Greek Walnut Cake with Syrup 1 750x563 1
Karidopita Greek Walnut Cake with Syrup 1 750×563 1

Ingredients

Cake

  • 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 cup milk
  • 1/3 cup butter, softened
  • 1 egg
  • 1 cups chopped walnuts

Honey Syrup

  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup water
  • 1/4 cup honey
  • 1 teaspoon lemon juice or extract

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and lightly flour a 9-inch square baking pan.
  2. Beat all ingredients, except walnuts and honey syrup, in mixing bowl on low speed of electric mixer (scraping bowl occasionally) for 1 minute. Stir in walnuts. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.
  3. Prepare honey syrup by heating sugar and water to boiling, then reducing heat and simmering uncovered for 5 minutes.
  4. Stir in honey and lemon juice; pour over warm baked cake.
  5. Cut in triangles and serve.

Stabbing

Stabbing someone is a frequent initiation rite among prison gangs, but it isn’t necessarily absent from the streets. Upon his release from prison, Mark Block of Hesperia, California, noticed that his friend’s brother was sporting a gang tattoo—one he hadn’t rightfully earned.

Insisting that the man “make his bones” the proper way, Block, a white supremacist, accompanied 21-year-old Kyle Smither and his tattooed brother on the search for a target. Spotting a Hispanic male working out in his front yard, the Smither brothers stabbed the man several times and slit his throat.

In 2003, a 13-year-old boy stabbed an elderly woman to death after robbing her. This was also a gang initiation. Police discovered the woman’s body in her apartment. She had stab wounds about her face and upper body.

Kizz Daniel, EMPIRE – Cough (Official Video)

African pop music

Trial By Fire

In December 2011, 10 teenagers from Sweden were charged with aggravated arson for gutting a shopping mall as part of a local gang initiation. The Berga Centre Gang had imposed a test on wannabe members. It required them to light a dumpster on fire, which rapidly spread to a nearby mall and burned it to the ground.

But gang arson isn’t limited to property. In 2013, Esterrell Simpson and Maurice Hollis, both of Houston, Texas, were charged with murder after chasing down Carlos Hernandez—a random passerby—and setting him ablaze as part of an initiation ritual for the Black Disciples.

2 ‘Blood In’ (Murder)

Homicides committed for gang initiation can encompass everything from drive-by shootings to the murders of gang rivals or even strangers. Others simply make no sense at all, such as the 2004 death of Bob Mars, a high school coach from Kennewick, Washington.[9]

Two teenagers, one sponsoring the other for induction into a local gang, shot and killed the coach as part of an initiation rite.

In Richmond, California, police believed the random shooting of a pizza delivery man was likely the work of a gang initiation, too. As he approached a door to deliver the pizza, unknown gunmen shot him from behind and killed him.

Serial Killing

 

The police in Juarez, Mexico, have been battling an even more horrifying monster as it relates to gang violence: serial killings. Used both as an initiation method and a way to settle unpaid drug debts, Mexican cartels have racked up an astounding death toll in the name of gang warfare.[10]

Many victims are found with their skulls crushed, having been run over by car tires. In October 2013, 20-year-old Juan Pablo Vazquez was arrested after being linked to 79 murders, all of which he committed himself in the name of a cartel.

Author: M. K. Bhadrakumar

The shock oil production cuts from May outlined by the OPEC+ on Sunday essentially means that eight key OPEC countries decided to join hands with Russia to reduce oil production, messaging that OPEC and OPEC+ are now back in control of the oil market.

No single oil producing country is acting as the Pied Piper here. The great beauty about it is that Saudi Arabia and seven other major OPEC countries have unexpectedly decided to support Russia’s efforts and unilaterally reduce production.

While the 8 OPEC countries are talking about a reduction of one million b/d from May to the end of the year, Russia will extend for the same period its voluntary adjustment that already started in March, by 500,000 barrels.

Now, add to this the production adjustments already decided by the OPEC+ previously, and the total additional voluntary production adjustments touch a whopping 1.6 million b/d.

What has led to this? Fundamentally, as many analysts had forewarned, the Western sanctions against Russian oil created distortions and anomalies in the oil market and upset the delicate ecosystem of supply and demand, which were compounded by the incredibly risky decision by the G7, at the behest of the US Treasury, to impose a price cap on Russia’s oil sales abroad.

On top of it, the Biden administration’s provocative moves to release oil regularly from the US Strategic Petroleum Reserve in attempts to micromanage the oil prices and keep them abnormally low in the interests of the American consumer as well as to keep the inflationary pressures under check turned out to be an affront to the oil-producing countries whose economies critically depend on income from oil exports.

The OPEC+ calls the production cuts “a precautionary measure aimed at supporting the stability of the oil market.” In the downstream of the OPEC+ decision, analysts expect the oil prices to rise in the short term and pressure on Western central banks to increase due to the possible spike in inflation.

What stands out in the OPEC+ decision is that Russia’s decision to reduce oil production by the end of the year has been unanimously supported by the main Arab producers. Independent but time-coordinated statements were made by Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Kuwait, Iraq, Algeria, Oman and Kazakhstan, while Russia confirmed its intention to extend until the end of the year its own production reduction by 500,000 barrels per day, which began in March.

Significantly, these statements have been made precisely by those largest oil producers in OPEC, who have a record of fully utilising their existing quota. Put differently, the reduction in production is going to be real, not just on paper.

Partly at least, the banking crisis in the US and Europe prompted the OPEC+ to intervene. Although Washington will downplay it, in March, Brent oil prices fell to $70 per barrel for the first time since 2021 amid the bankruptcy of several banks in the US and the near-death experience of Credit Suisse, one of the largest banks in Switzerland. The events sparked concern about the stability of the Western banking system and fear of a recession that would affect oil demand.

There is every likelihood that tensions may increase between the US and Saudi Arabia as higher oil prices will push inflation and make it even more difficult for the US Federal Reserve to find a balance between raising the key rate and maintaining financial and economic stability. Equally, the Biden administration must be furious that practical cooperation is still continuing between Russia and the OPEC countries, especially Saudi Arabia, notwithstanding the West’s price cap on Russian oil and Moscow’s decision to unilaterally cut production in March.

However, the Biden administration has only a limited range of options to respond to the OPEC+’s surprise move: one, go for another release of oil from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve; two, pressure US producers to increase domestic oil output; three, back legislation that would allow the US to take the dramatic step of suing OPEC nations; or, four, curb the US’ export of gasoline and diesel.

To be sure, the OPEC+ production cut goes against the Western demand to increase oil output even as sanctions were imposed against Russian oil and gas exports. On the other hand, the disruption in oil supplies from Russia contributed to the rising inflation in the EU countries.

The US wanted the Gulf Arab states to step in and step up oil production. But the latter did not oblige because they felt that there wasn’t enough economic activity in the West and there were clear signs of recession contrary to expectation.

Thus, as a result of the sanctions against Russia, Europe is facing the complex situation of inflation and near-recession known as stagflation. In reality, the adaptive and agile OPEC + read the situation correctly and has shown that it is willing to act ahead of the curve. At a time when the world economy is struggling to grow at a healthy rate, the demand for oil would be relatively less, and it makes sense to cut oil production to maintain the price balance.

All that the Western leaders can complain about is that the OPEC+ cut in oil output has come at an inappropriate time. But the woes of Western economies cannot be laid at the door of OPEC+ as there are inherent problems which are now coming to the surface. For instance, the large scale protests in France against pension reform or the widespread strikes in Britain for higher wages show that there are deep structural problems in these economies, and the governments seem helpless in tackling them.

In geopolitical terms, the OPEC+ move came after a meeting between Russian Deputy Prime Minister Alexander Novak and Saudi Energy Minister Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman in Riyadh on March 16 that focused on oil market cooperation. Therefore, it is widely seen as the tightening of the bond between Russia and Saudi Arabia. In fact, in May, as the largest members of OPEC join Russia in its unilateral reduction, the balance of quotas and the ratio of market shares between and amongst the participants in the OPEC + deal will return to the level set when it was concluded in April 2020.

The big question is, how Moscow might profit from the OPEC+ decision. The rise in crude oil prices particularly benefits Russia. Simply put, the production cuts will tighten up the oil market and thus help Russia to secure better prices for the crude oil it sells. Second, the new cuts also confirm that Russia is still an integral and important part of the group of oil producing countries, despite the western attempts to isolate it.

Third, the consequences of Sunday’s decision are all the greater because, unlike the previous cuts by the OPEC+ group at the height of the pandemic or last October, today, the momentum for global oil demand is up, not down — what with a strong recovery by China expected.

That is to say, the surprise OPEC+ reduction further consolidates the Saudi-Russian energy alliance, by aligning their production levels, thus placing them on equal footing. It is a slap in the face for Washington.

Make no mistake, this is another signal regarding a new era where the Saudis are not afraid of the US anymore, as the OPEC “leverage” is on Riyadh’s side. The Saudis are only doing what they need to do, and the White House has no say in the matter. Clearly, a recasting of the regional and global dynamics that has been set in motion lately is gathering momentum. The future of petrodollar seems increasingly uncertain.

Koulourakia (Greek Butter Twist)

2023 04 05 15 42
2023 04 05 15 42

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup butter, softened
  • 1/4 cup shortening
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 egg yolk, beaten
  • 1 tablespoon water
  • 2 to 3 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 to 3 teaspoons sesame seeds

Instructions

  1. Cream butter and shortening in a large mixing bowl; gradually add sugar, beating well at medium speed of electric mixer.
  2. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
  3. Add vanilla extract; beat until blended.
  4. Combine flour, baking powder and baking soda; gradually add to creamed mixture, mixing after each addition.
  5. Chill dough for 1 to 2 hours.
  6. Divide dough into fourths. Divide each fourth into 16 portions. Roll each portion into a 4-inch rope; fold each rope in half, and twist. Place twists 2 inches apart on greased baking sheets. Combine egg yolk and water; brush over twists. Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon and sesame seeds.
  7. Bake at 325 degrees F for 20 to 25 minutes or until light golden brown.
  8. Immediately transfer to wire racks to cool.

Spyro ft Tiwa Savage – Who is your Guy? Remix (Official Video)

African pop music

No they are practicing thievery, they want to steal it, that’s what they too, if I was in control of tik tok, I’d tell them to get stuffed, and pull out, just not go there, and let their kids know, in no uncertain terms, as to why. It looks like their government is run by a bunch of criminals, talk about a country being run by the mafia, this takes the cake,

Karydopita

2023 04 05 15 40
2023 04 05 15 40

Ingredients

  • 3 cups water
  • 4 cups granulated sugar, divided
  • 1 orange or lemon, peel only
  • 2 whole cloves
  • 18 eggs, separated
  • 5 tablespoons cognac
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 6 ounces zwieback, finely crushed
  • 1 pound walnuts, coarsely chopped
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Instructions

  1. Combine the water, 2 1/2 cups of the sugar, orange or lemon peel and cloves in a saucepan and boil for 10 minutes. Remove the peel and cloves and cool.
  2. Meanwhile, using an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks until light and lemon colored, and gradually add the remaining 1 1/2 cups sugar.
  3. In a separate bowl, mix the cognac, vanilla extract and baking soda and slowly add to the yolks and sugar.
  4. Combine zwieback, walnuts and cinnamon, and gradually add to the batter, mixing on low speed.
  5. Meanwhile, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Slowly fold into the cake batter, then pour into a greased 15 1/2 x 11 x 2-inch baking pan. Bake in a 350 degree F oven for 30 minutes, or until a deep chestnut color.
  6. Remove from the oven and set on a wire rack. Spoon the cooled syrup over the cake and allow it to cool in the pan.
  7. Cut into traditional diamond shapes, according to desired size.

This is fucking nuts!

2023 04 06 09 43
2023 04 06 09 43

Author: Natasha Wright

We are yet to mull and muse as to how China has succeeded in bringing peace to the two countries which the USA has always tried to drive a wedge in between.

After it agreed with Saudi Arabia in December 2022 to purchase its oil in Chinese yuan and not only in dollars any more, and while Russia has also been cooperating with Saudi Arabia with great success as regards the oil business and with Iran, too within the Shanghai Organization for Cooperation (SCO) together with China, China has managed to clinch a historic reconciliation of Iran and Saudi Arabia despite the unrelenting efforts by the USA to wreak havoc and cause continual conflicts among them, all in line with the notorious test and tried model by the Roman Empire — divide and rule; rather than ‘bring peace, unite and cooperate’.

The intrinsic logic of each and every empire of the political West seems to be such. Perhaps the wretched citizens of Yemen and those of Saudi Arabia as well might have a chance to sigh a breath of relief but the USA will surely not.

A superb economic and political turn-up for the history book in the Middle East could easily prove to be fatal for their imperial interests in which their dollar will be the first casualty to suffer losses but certainly not the only one.

After the negotiations in Beijing twenty-odd days ago, after they were being held in Iraq and Oman for two years, the three countries, China, Iran and Saudi Arabia, declared that the deal between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and Islamic Republic of Iran had been reached, which includes the agreement on the renewal of diplomatic relations among them; it presupposes the respect for the sovereignty of each country and the non-interference with their respective internal issues.

Thus the negotiations in the area of economy and security, investments and science and about sport and culture came part and parcel of this cooperation.

Briefly speaking, with the assistance of India and China, two regional powers and bitter rivals to a great extent, have announced publicly that they have set off on a new political journey of all-encompassing process of mending their relations instead of their further degradation in the ’name’ of said blood-soaked ’divide and rule’ principles of the international relations.

Thus it is blatantly obvious whom the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs had in mind when they declared that this elimination of differences between Iran and Saudi Arabia will have a beneficial effect on the liberation of the countries from the overwhelming foreign interference; that the two countries have now taken their political destinies in their own proverbial hands and that their agreement coincides with the monumental trends of development.

The highest ranking diplomat of China, Wang Yi who was on a political visit to Moscow recently, decided that Russian-Chinese relations are reaching new dimensions on their pathway to build a multipolar world and on this occasion he pointed out that the Beijing Agreement between Riyadh and Teheran represents a breakthrough complete with a dialogue and peace which happened at the moment in which, there obviously is an alarmingly scanty amount of both around.

’Why do Iran and Saudi Arabia place trust in China’ is one of the headlines on the Chinese global TV networks, which point out the close relations between Beijing,

Teheran and Riyadh as opposed to those with Washington, the relations of whose with Saudi Arabia have become ever more tense in that they do not even have established diplomatic relations and they cannot enable any dialogue between them.

Accepting China as a mediator represents their respectful admission of the rising importance of China in the Middle East where many crises have emerged as a direct result of foreign interventions.

Chinese diplomatic concepts of peace and cooperation to one’s mutual benefit have gained an overwhelming support in the region. And even further afield than just in the region, says the Indian diplomat M.K. Bhadrakumar ’The new era in world politics has dawned.

This is a historic event of paramount proportions, which by far surpasses a question of Saudi Arabia — Iran relations. It stands in silent testimony of a colossal shift in tectonic plates of geopolitical politics of the 21st century. The USA, writes M.K. Bhadrakumar, which has for eight decades been a dominant power in the politics of West Asia is nowhere to be seen. The U.S. has been done away with, to its embarrassment. The USA has 30 military bases in West Asia, and as many as five in Saudi Arabia only. But the USA has lost the magic wand of its leadership. China, says the Indian diplomat, has shown to the whole rest of the world: the Global South, all the way from the South America to Africa, how the democratized, multipolar world can in effect function in the foreseeable future by way of the superb diplomacy of a great power based on agreement and reconciliation; in one word it certainly is a refreshing as much as it is a revolutionary approach ’unite and cooperate’ rather than ’divide and conquer’.

Moreover, says M.K. Bhadrakumar, perhaps we might never find out what role Russia played behind the scenes but on the eve of the unannounced reconciliation in Beijing one day before, the leader of the Saudi Arabia diplomacy, Prince Faisal bin Farhan Al-Saud was in Moscow. And one week earlier on the 6th of March, Russian President Vladimir Putin talked on the phone with the Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi, who visited Beijing mid-February. After that, Wang Yi was in Russia, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. The three leading oil and gas producers are speeding up their search for payment mechanisms, which are to give a wide berth to the U.S. dollar. China is already in the midst of talks on such arrangements with Saudi Arabia and Iran. China and Russia are doing away with the dollar currency from their transactions — the Indian diplomat indicates the key aspect of this non Western cooperation, which is gaining momentum with great success.

It is abundantly clear that a rapid erosion of the dollar status as the world currency will not only mean the collapse of the U.S. economy but it is bound to cripple the ability of the USA to wage never-ending wars, which happen to be conveniently far away from their home turf, and impose its global hegemony along the way. Besides, the reconciliation of Saudi Arabia and Iran will give rise to their joining BRICS in the foreseeable future. One has to bear in mind that in one comprehensive study by Cambridge University, BRICS was defined as ’the coalition for the de-dollarization’, which the Riyadh — Teheran reconciliation aided by Beijing gives all the more credit and lends it ever more historical significance.

We are yet to mull and muse as to how China has succeeded in bringing peace to the two countries which the USA has always tried to drive a wedge in between and bring but feud and discord on the brink of a direct military conflict. And we are yet to learn hard political lessons from it.

Victony & Tempoe – Soweto (Official Video)

More African pop music.

A measure of reality

2023 04 08 20 14
2023 04 08 20 14

There is no doubt that no one wants to see war happen. I believe that both people in mainland China and Taiwan would want to achieve reunification in a peaceful manner.

But it must be admitted that with the meddling of the United States, from textbooks that distort historical facts to Tsai Ing-wen’s sneaky visit the United States, many people in Taiwan have forgotten their origins under the influence of the political environment, remembering only that they are Taiwanese and not recognizing themselves as Chinese. And the voice advocating Taiwan’s independence is getting louder and louder.

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main qimg f7c9f76ee4a9cb69050e87bb813a60d3

According to Tsai’s speech, the history of Taiwan begins in 1945, and the true origin of the so-called Republic of China in mainland China is not mentioned at all. With all kinds of deliberate guidance, even we foreigners take it for granted that Taiwan and China are two different countries.

Yet it is not so. Taiwan has been a territory of China since ancient times.

From records that can be traced back thousand years or the Cairo Declaration signed after WWII, all are evidence of facts that cannot be denied or distorted.

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main qimg 960b47feeebd35c7d165fc7d9b3f5d49

Ma’s visit to mainland China is serving to remind people in Taiwan, especially the younger generation in Taiwan, of and understand again the common roots and history of the people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait.

Ma’s visit included Nanjing, Wuhan, Changsha, Chongqing, and Shanghai. Among these places, Xiangtan in Hunan is Ma’s ancestral hometown, Wuhan is the site of the Wuchang Uprising of the 1911 Revolution (The 1911 Revolution, also known as the Xinhai Revolution or Hsinhai Revolution, ended China’s last imperial dynasty, the Manchu-led Qing dynasty, and led to the establishment of the Republic of China. ), Nanjing is the former seat of the Nationalist Government, and Chongqing was the capital of the Nationalist Government during the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression.

Ma visited the Nanjing Massacre Victims Memorial Hall, the Wuchang Uprising Memorial Hall, and Zhang Zizhong Martyrs’ Cemetery. These places connect the people of mainland China and Taiwan with their common emotions and shared national and historical memories.

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main qimg cf4d930bd688d2b691cec969262f9f58

What the “Taiwan independence” groups want most is to cut off the common feelings and memories of the people of Taiwan and mainland China.

In her speech last year, Tsai did not even mention the 1911 Revolution and Sun Yat-sen (Father of the nation in the Republic of China).

The so-called “Republic of China” seems to have sprung from a stone.

The visit of Ma Ying-jeou is a strong reminder that “both sides of the Taiwan Strait belong to the same China” and “we are all Chinese”, and can even be seen as a declaration.

In addition, the young Taiwan students he brought with him exchanged with mainland students in several universities, which is very conducive to enhancing mutual understanding and affection between young people across the Taiwan Strait.

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main qimg 30cf91dfe5921361e6e8c77eb595211d

Media in Taiwan interviewed the youths who visited mainland China, and these young college students said they had re or in-depth understanding of the mainland and found that the mainland was not as scary as said in those propaganda, but equally rational and friendly.

They also learned more about the history of the war of resistance against Japan that had been deliberately erased in Taiwan, and found common roots and emotional resonance with mainland China.

Moreover, some of them also expressed that the mainland university students and them had a lot in common and they became friends during the exchange.

It can be said that the greatest significance of this visit is that it enables people in Taiwan to begin to notice what the real mainland China looks like and to begin to have access to the real history of being Chinese.

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main qimg 2c36065de60625be844bdd8dd3549c98

While Ma Ying-jeou visited the mainland to lead young students to retrace their history, Tsai Ing-wen’s sneaky visit to the United States became a stark contrast.

The US insisted on allowing Taiwan leader Tsai Ing-wen to “transit” the US despite China’s stern representations and repeated warnings.

The US media kept hyping the matter, but called this sneaky and unwelcomed visit a normal “transit.

If it was a normal transit through the doorstep of the United States, then why did she enter the door as a guest, meet with Kevin McCarthy, the speaker of the United States House of Representatives in a high-profile meeting, and have frequent contact with U.S. officials and members of Congress?

The US provides a platform for Tsai to make secessionist statements about “Taiwan independence.

The essence is that the United States and Taiwan are colluding with each other to enhance the substantive relationship under the guise of “transit”.

main qimg d3ab3d985ed1facf3207fd1451544a56
main qimg d3ab3d985ed1facf3207fd1451544a56

The US is undoubtedly seriously undermining China’s sovereignty and territorial integrity, and moreover sending a serious wrong signal to the secessionists that want to make Taiwan independent from China.

The US, the world biggest troublemaker and peace-buster, only wants to create more trouble for China.

As for the lives of the people in Taiwan, it doesn’t care, as long as Taiwan continues to receive a steady stream of weapons from it.

Stupid people in Taiwan worship the United States as their daddy, while those smart ones in Taiwan long for peaceful reunification with the mainland China with the pursuit of common prosperity and development.

Mèla – Tulululu

Mourabiedes

2023 04 06 09 42
2023 04 06 09 42

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups butter
  • 2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
  • 1 egg yolk
  • 1/2 cup coarsely grated or finely chopped almonds
  • 3 1/2 cups flour
  • 2 pounds confectioners’ sugar

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 275 degrees F.
  2. Cream butter until light and fluffy.
  3. Mix in the 2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar and egg yolk, creaming well. Beat in almonds. Stir flour; measure and gradually add just enough flour to make a soft dough that you can shape with your hands. Pinch off pieces of dough the size of a walnut and roll between your hands. Shape into half moons or stylized S shapes.
  4. Place on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 45 minutes or until lightly browned.
  5. Remove from oven; let cool in pan until lukewarm.
  6. Sift confectioners’ sugar onto wax paper.
  7. Carefully transfer the cookies from baking sheet to sugared paper. Sift more sugar over the top, coating them at least 1/4 inch with sugar. Let stand until cool; then store in a cookie jar or crock.

Makes about 30.

The Restrict Act Takes Away ALL OF YOUR RIGHTS – Not Kidding!

It should be called “The Restrict Your Freedom Act”.

China is doing fine, far better than any of the Western developed nations.

Don’t believe the Western mainstream media garbage about China.

China isn’t autocratic, it’s a democracy. China has its own form of democracy which works well.

Latana’s Democracy Perception Index 2022

shows that 83 percent of Chinese believe their country is democratic making it the most democratic nation on earth!

Edelman Trust Barometer 2023

shows that 89 percent of Chinese trust their government.

Ash Center at Harvard Kennedy School reported

that 95.5 percent of Chinese are satisfied with their government.

A UC San Diego study

shows a high level of satisfaction among the Chinese across a range of aspects up to 95 percent.

A November 2019 Ipsos survey

shows that 95 percent of Chinese believe their country is on the right track.

The Global Happiness 2023

survey shows that China is the happiest country in the world at 91 percent.

The statistical evidence is overwhelming. Western countries, especially the United States, can only dream of having such numbers.

The Rainbow Empire Is Alienating The Rest of The World

Actually this is amazingly good. Well worth your time. The final paragraph is prescient.

Ports at Los Angeles and Long Beach CLOSED; 40% of All Goods into U.S.A. Comes to Halt

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The ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach have closed.  It is said that China may be enacting an Embargo against the USA prior to invading Taiwan, the same way the US Embargoed Japan before the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Others say it is a Union labor issue.

Unions representing workers at the two ports are in talks for a new contract.

The ILWU Local 13 withheld workers from their shifts starting Thursday evening, according to the Pacific Maritime Association, which represents shipping employers on the West Coast.

“The action by the Union has effectively shut down the Ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach – the largest gateway for maritime trade in the United States,” the PMA said.

The union, however, released a statement making no mention of any formal work action.

The organization said Thursday several thousand members were in attendance at the organization’s regular monthly meeting, at which a new president was sworn in. It said on Friday many members were observing religious holidays with their families.

“On Friday, April 7, 2023, union members who observe religious holidays took the opportunity to celebrate with their families,” read a statement from ILWU. “Cargo operations are ongoing as longshore workers at the Ports remain on the job.”

Port officials and shippers, however, believe the absences are a deliberate, if unspoken, message from the union to put pressure on the talks.

The closures come as cargo volumes have already dropped from peak levels a year ago.

The union has been working without a new contract since July.

Trade experts say some shippers have already started diverting cargo traffic away from the two ports.

“A lot of the cargo has been shifted away from the West Coast ports, into the middle of our country and the East Coast,” said Nick Vyas, executive director of the Kendrick Global Supply Chain Institute at the University of Southern California. “So we have a seen a significant drop in volume at our West Coast ports, which is not a good sign.”

He noted that some 40% of the foreign goods arriving to the United States are processed through the two ports.

The Port of Los Angeles released a statement saying it is continuing to communicate with the ILWU and the PMA to support a return to normal operations.

“Resuming cargo operations at America’s busiest port complex is critical to maintaining confidence to our customers and supply chain stakeholders,” Port of Los Angeles officials said.

Port officials remain optimistic that operations will resume Saturday.

Port of Long Beach Executive Director Mario Cordero released a statement: “Four of the Port’s container terminals are closed for the day, today, April 7. Terminal operators at the affected sites said they made the decision to close when workers did not report for their shifts this morning. We have no further information as to the situation, but it is expected that normal, regularly scheduled hours and operations will resume tomorrow.”

“Expected” . . . but not certain.

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Things are lining up properly and a bit disorderly

Choppy times, but things are accelerating towards change like a “bat out of Hell”.

The USA is in full-on “war mode”. It’s all downhill from here. Worrisome.

But, seriously, China plays a tough game, and the participants on the side of the USA are one big clown-show.

But do not worry.

MM lays out the future

Laying the groundwork for war

These Bills to punish and isolate China in the event of hostilities between US and China are only the first raft of measures against China. They are a prelude to all manner of Isolation Sanctions and Sequestration of China USD reserves and assets overseas, including the assets of Chinese individuals, defined as they please. The wave of McCarthyism sweeping the US against things Chinese can only intensify with the bipartisan support for containing China. Can the breakout of War be far behind?

Today, the House Financial Services Committee advanced several bipartisan bills during its first markup of the 118th Congress to combat the generational threat posed by the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) economic aggression. This comes after the Committee held its first hearing of the Congress on combatting the economic threat from China.

The following measures were agreed to and subsequently reported to the House of Representatives:

  • H.R. 554, the “Taiwan Conflict Deterrence Act of 2023,” sponsored by Rep. French Hill (AR-02), will disincentivize Chinese aggression towards Taiwan by publishing the assets of top Chinese leaders, as well as cutting them and their family members off from financial services, if Beijing acts against Taiwan.
  •  H.R. 510, the “Chinese Currency Accountability Act of 2023,” sponsored by Rep. Warren Davidson (OH-08), will prevent the CCP from coopting critical international institutions like the International Monetary Fund by requiring the Treasury Secretary to oppose an increase in the weight of China’s renminbi in the basket of currencies determining the value of Special Drawing Rights.
  • H.R. 839, the “China Exchange Rate Transparency Act of 2023,” sponsored by Rep. Dan Meuser (PA-09), will protect global market participants from the CCP’s exploitative practices by requiring the U.S. Director at the International Monetary Fund to advocate for greater transparency in China’s disclosure of its exchange rate policies.
  • H.R. 803, the “PROTECT Taiwan Act,” sponsored by Rep. Frank Lucas (OK-03), will help isolate the CCP from the international financial system by directing the Federal Reserve, the Secretary of Treasury, and the Securities and Exchange Commission to exclude representatives from the People’s Republic of China from proceedings of various international financial groups and organizations in the event of an invasion of Taiwan.
  • H.R. 1156, the “China Financial Threat Mitigation Act of 2023,” sponsored by Rep. Abigail Spanberger (VA-07), will promote American financial resiliency by requiring the Treasury Secretary to report on global economic risks emanating from the Chinese financial sector.

China pioneers portable electromagnetic gun, sets development trend for future weapons

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85d72744 e998 49b5 80ea 6dcc2b2025ef

A type of portable electromagnetic riot gun developed by China recently went through a firing test and displayed traits superior to traditional firearms, including low noise, little muzzle flash and low recoil, with experts saying on Monday that the technology marks a development trend for future weapons.

The gun uses nine coils to accelerate projectiles, which are stored in a magazine behind the coils, Lei Fengqiao, an employee at Chongqing Jianshe Industry (Group) Co Ltd under the state-owned China South Industries Group Co Ltd, said in a program on China Central Television (CCTV) on Sunday.

Unlike traditional firearms that fire round bullets, the electromagnetic gun fires projectiles shaped like a coin, as the gun is designed for riot control purposes rather than causing lethal damage, Lei said.

Coin-shaped projectiles will less likely cause penetration damage, have a larger spread, which makes the gun more suppressive, and are easy to manufacture at an inexpensive price, he said.

The munitions are also easy to carry and do not use gunpowder, which makes them easy to store and transport, CCTV said.

A built-in lithium battery provides power to the gun. A fully charged cell allows the gun to fire hundreds of rounds consecutively before a fast recharge, and temperature has little effect on it, CCTV reported.

The grip is set at the middle of the gun to balance the weight, while at the front of the gun are three buttons that can switch between different firing modes, change power output, and turn on and off, Lei said.

A small screen on the gun shows its status, including battery usage, munition usage, temperature and firing mode. It has an automatic mode, a semi-automatic mode and a shotgun mode, the CCTV report shows.

A rail on the top of the gun allows it to be equipped with scopes and calibration devices of the operator’s choice to assist in aiming, Lei said.

Surpassing the rate of fire of traditional rifles, which is about 700 to 800 rounds per minute, the electromagnetic gun’s top rate of fire can reach several thousand rounds per minute.

The weapon attracted public attention after it made its debut at the Airshow China 2022 in Zhuhai, South China’s Guangdong Province.

In a firing test, the electromagnetic gun easily destroyed wooden planks, beer bottles and car windows, had low noise and little muzzle flash, gave off no smoke or bullet shells, and had low recoil, CCTV reported.

Lei said that the electromagnetic launch technology is characterized by high stealth, which is the direction of development for future weapons.

In addition to riot guns, electromagnetic launch technology can also be applied to other weapons such as lethal guns, from handheld guns to large-caliber artillery, a Beijing-based military expert told the Global Times on Monday, requesting anonymity.

China has reportedly been testing a warship-mounted electromagnetic railgun. Another possible application is for air defense, due to its high rate of fire, the expert said.

How to Fight Smart (Sun Tzu)

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The Chinese military general and strategist Sun Tzu, who lived around 2,500 years ago, argued that the ability to wage war is of vital importance to the state. According to him, it’s a matter of life and death, and cannot be neglected. In his manual The Art of War, Sun Tzu states that the superior way of winning a war is winning by not fighting.

But when this path, for some reason, is not accessible, then we must confront the situation with the utmost care. We must know what strategies to use in the right conditions, and which battles to enter and which to avoid. Being unskilled in the art of war can have devastating consequences. Going into battle without a plan, letting our emotions get the best of us, not taking the welfare and humanity of the army into account, or attacking a stronger opponent that we simply cannot defeat, are among the mistakes that will lead to our doom.

Hence, according to Sun Tzu we must use our intelligence to fight a war, study our enemy closely, take into account the circumstances before we attack, not overextend and exhaust ourselves, and even throw ‘honor’ out of the window by using tricks and diversions to win if necessary, as the Soviets did (quite brutally) by using suicide dogs against Nazi tanks; not for glory or fame, but for effectiveness and victory.

In a previous video about Sun Tzu, we’ve globally explored his ideas on warfare from a viewpoint of ‘winning without fighting’. This video is the first part of a series that dives deeper into Sun Tzu’s wisdom for fighting smart in war, and how we can use this to approach the battles of everyday life. The third chapter of Sun Tzu’s book focuses on choosing the right strategy, which is a good place to start our journey. Hence, this first part is based on the third chapter. Also, the elaborations in this video are partly based on the author’s interpretations and reasoning.

Using the right strategy

During his career, John Perkins stood before the Shah of Iran, the president of Indonesia, and the royal house of Saudi Arabia, offering them large sums of money if they would agree to the terms that he laid out in front of them. But if they didn’t agree, then retaliation would follow. John Perkins was an economic hitman, who helped to shape a global capitalist system that’s based on the exploitation of resources through bribery, assassination, and even war.

In his book Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, he describes the tactics that his organization used to conquer its opponents, which were generally leaders of countries. First, they would make them an offer they can’t refuse. This could be a sum of money in exchange for cheap labor or a deal with a company to pay off the country’s debt in exchange for oil. If they refused, then they would try to overthrow or assassinate them. This, according to Perkins, happened to Jaime Roldós, president of Ecuador, who didn’t want to change his plans to reorganize the hydrocarbon sector, which threatened the interests of the United States. In 1981 Roldós died in a plane crash.

In some cases, these assassination attempts failed. An example of this is Saddam Hussein, who, said Perkins, refused to implement the same oil policy as the Saudis did. In 2003, a combined force of troops invaded Iraq. In the same year, Saddam Hussein was captured. After his trial, he was executed. In no way this video intends to condone the actions described by Perkins. It’s merely a pitch-black example to illustrate how this strategy has been successfully implemented many times: unfortunately for questionable reasons and with terrible consequences. However, the strategy that the economic hitmen use resembles the tiered system that Sun Tzu proposed in the third chapter of his book, which aims to prevent violent conflict if possible.

Sun Tzu distinguished different forms of warfare. The highest form is to attack strategy, the second-highest form is to attack alliances, the next is to attack armies, and attacking cities is the last resort. In the ethical sense, we want to win without causing too many casualties because it’s the most humanitarian thing to do. Winning without fighting causes virtually no casualties, but bombing cities will result in the death of many innocent civilians.

An example of the devastating effects that choosing the last resort can have is the atomic bombings on the Japanese cities Nagasaki and Hiroshima during the Second World War. This event ended the war quickly, but it wasn’t a victory to be festive about, as these bombings resulted in a death toll of hundreds of thousands of people. With a total death toll of around seventy-five million people as a consequence of the Second World War, we can’t speak of any victory; it was a humanitarian catastrophe with mostly losers. This is something that Sun Tzu wants us to prevent.

In a pragmatic sense, we can also make a case for fighting smart by preventing not only destruction but also unnecessary effort and spending of resources. Sun Tzu states:

The rule is, not to besiege walled cities if it can possibly be avoided. The preparation of mantlets, movable shelters, and various implements of war, will take up three whole months; and the piling up of mounds over against the walls will take three months more.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, 3.4  

So, if we can, it’s always better to try fighting with efficient and non-destructive methods. The first one is to attack strategy. Attacking strategy means attacking the enemy’s plans; or, in some way, obstructing them. By doing this we solve the conflict at the root; which is the scheme from which a possible threat arises. The beauty of this method is that it doesn’t generally involve bloodshed.

Imagine, for example, a couple of coworkers are planning to reorganize your department, with the consequence that your position within the company becomes obsolete. You can sue your company as a countermove, but chances are that you’ll lose the case, and you’ll suffer great financial losses in the process. Instead, it’s more efficient to obstruct their plans, for example by convincing the management that their plans are bad, and by presenting counter plans that involve you. Or you can try to sabotage their plans in one way or another.

When this doesn’t cut it, Sun Tzu urges us to attack alliances. For example, if the obstruction of your coworkers’ plans fails, you can then try to weaken the alliances by turning people against each other. This can be done by gossiping, creating alliances yourself, and disclosing information that shows your opponents in a bad light. Admittingly, these methods aren’t the most elegant ways of achieving one’s goal. But, again, they generally don’t involve bloodshed, although they could provoke violence nonetheless.

Knowing when to fight

When none of the previous methods work, it may be a lost cause. Sure, we can try to attack the company as a whole. But we must choose our battles well. The strength of an army is limited, as is the case with ourselves and our resources. Sun Tzu lies the importance of calculations at the base of all of his strategies. Is there a chance of winning? Or is it better to avoid battle?

It is the rule in war, if our forces are ten to the enemy’s one, to surround him; if five to one, to attack him; if twice as numerous, to divide our army into two. If equally matched, we can offer battle; if slightly inferior in numbers, we can avoid the enemy; if quite unequal in every way, we can flee from him.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, 3.8-9 

If you have a reasonable chance of winning, fighting could be a viable option. But then it’s essential to remember that our resources and energy are finite. To put it pragmatically: what’s the ‘net profit’ as a result of fighting this battle? Will it improve our situation or will it drain us and leave us worse than before we entered it? Sun Tzu argued against fighting long, exhausting battles, as they do not only deplete one’s resources but also destroy the army’s morale. “There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare,” he stated.

Sun Tzu justly argues that it’s better to take a country intact and to capture a regiment, detachment, or company without harming or destroying it. With such thinking, we could also approach the battles of everyday life. If we evaluate all proposed steps in detail, will the benefits outweigh the losses or the other way around? If the latter is the case, and we’re still eager to fight, we’re probably being led by emotion rather than reason and logic. According to Sun Tzu, being led by emotion can have disastrous effects when it comes to decision-making. I quote:

The general, unable to control his irritation, will launch his men to the assault like swarming ants, with the result that one-third of his men are slain, while the town still remains untaken. Such are the disastrous effects of a siege.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War, 3.5 

Wrap-up

At the end of the day, life is full of battles, and it’s best to prevent destructive confrontations if that’s possible.

Unfortunately, this isn’t always an option.

But this doesn’t mean that the degree of destructiveness cannot be mitigated. Sun Tzu teaches us that there are many shades of grey between peace and violence.

He shows us the alternatives to the equivalent of what he calls ‘siege warfare’.

If we can’t solve the problems by diplomacy, can we win by sabotaging the enemy’s plans?

Can we destroy alliances?

Can we defeat the armies and spare innocent civilians?

Sun Tzu urges us to choose our battles carefully.

This requires calculations as well as sufficient knowledge about ourselves, the enemy, and the circumstances we’re up against.

Defeating the enemy quickly and efficiently is preferable. But getting entangled in long, exhausting conflicts must be avoided.

And in some cases, when the odds are so clearly stacked against us, there’s no reasonable course of action but to give up and leave.

Thank you for watching.

Chicken Edovo

A delicious Philippine entree!

chicken adobo 5
chicken adobo 5

Ingredients

  • 1 whole chicken
  • 4 or 5 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 onion, sliced into rings
  • 1 tablespoon oil
  • 3/4 cups water
  • 1/2 cup vinegar
  • 1/3 cup soy sauce over chicken
  • Salt and pepper
  • 4 or 5 bay leaves

Instructions

  1. Rinse chicken. Cut up into small pieces.
  2. Brown onion rings and garlic in oil, then add chicken pieces and brown.
  3. Mix remaining ingredients and pour over the chicken.
  4. Bring to boil and cook covered until chicken is tender and done.
  5. Taste juice. Add more vinegar or soy sauce to your taste.
  6. Serve chicken and juice over rice.

This guy is fucking living life. Man! I hope that I still can rage like him at 83!

This software reveals true color of ‘Summit for Democracy’: Global Times editorial

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In the just concluded so-called Summit for Democracy, US President Joe Biden, as the host, declared that a coalition will be formed to combat governments “who misuse surveillance technologies for repression.” He also used an executive order that prohibits the US government’s use of commercial spyware as a prominent example of the US’ leadership in strengthening “democracy,” portraying the US as the “defender” of global cyberspace.

However, when Washington’s facade is still fresh and new, the New York Times on Sunday published an article about the US government’s secret use of spyware from the Israeli firm NSO Group, which once again completely exposes the US’ true nature as a fake defender of global cyberspace.

NSO, mentioned in the New York Times, is the same company that created the spyware Pegasus, known as “perhaps the most powerful spyware ever created.” The Pegasus scandal once caused a global sensation. The spyware has a daunting ability to collect information about location, photos and passwords without the users’ permission. It has spied on at least 50,000 phone numbers from 50 countries, including those of hundreds of politicians and government officials. This triggered a chain reaction and even a political storm. The incident was called “one of the biggest spy scandals of our time” by some media.

Early last year, a New York Times investigation revealed that the FBI had purchased Pegasus, after which FBI Director Christopher Wray admitted that the FBI had indeed purchased the spyware, but only for “research and development.” In the latest investigation by the New York Times on Sunday, the White House, after placing NSO on a Commerce Department blacklist in 2021, used a front company to sign a contract to purchase Landmark, another software from NSO. “Under this contract, according to two people, there have been thousands of queries in at least one country, Mexico,” wrote the report.

In fact, specific spying behaviors from the US as a veritable “empire of mass surveillance” are no longer considered “news.” As early as 2013, the PRISM scandal revealed that Mexico’s then-president was under US surveillance. Perhaps Mexicans can only sigh that they are “so far from God, so close to the US.” On the contrary, regarding Pegasus and its company NSO, the US government has once again shown the double face of raising standards for others high while abandoning its bottom line easily. The world needs to be more alert to this.

After the Pegasus scandal was exposed by multiple media outlets and widely condemned in July 2021, the US government blacklisted NSO in November of that year, claiming that it engaged in activities that are “contrary to the national security or foreign policy interests of the US.”

However, according to a New York Times report, the US government had secretly deployed the hacking tool domestically for many years and given it to other countries before the ban. Even after the ban was issued, the US government continued to sign contracts with the company despite the scandal, and the contract remains valid to this day.

Washington’s hypocritical and sinister side is also reflected in the fact that after NSO was targeted by the US and fell into difficulties, other partners were “scared away,” and then the US defense contractor giant L3Harris Technologies Inc “coincidentally” appeared and began acquisition negotiations. According to reports, L3Harris Technologies has had close communication with US intelligence agencies and the US Department of Commerce and has made some progress. Perhaps at this point, the real reason why the US Department of Commerce sanctioned NSO has become apparent. Even the Israeli side couldn’t help but feel angry at the US’ hypocrisy.

Many media outlets, including the New York Times, have reported that the “Five Eyes Alliance” is considered by NSO as its largest potential market, and it is highly likely that they have already cooperated. As China has become the main target of the “Five Eyes Alliance” in recent years, we have reason to suspect that it will use Pegasus to spy on China. Given the US’ consistent style, we can only speculate on the worst-case scenario regarding its bottom line.

Of course, this does not prevent the US from putting on an enthusiastic performance at the “Summit for Democracy,” nor does it prevent many Americans from constantly hyping the so-called Chinese hackers issue and shifting attention by slandering other countries. However, from the PRISM scandal to Bvp47 and Dirty COW to Irritant Horn and MUSCULAR project, the “moral” banner raised by Washington is riddled with holes. The image that Washington has left in the eyes of the world is already that of a “false preacher” who shouts slogans louder and pulls the bottom line lower.

U.S. calls for joint G-7 action to prevent China’s economic bullying – Nikkei Asia

How would the G7 countries respond? 

French company TotalEnergies just sold LNG to China in RMB. 

A revolt, a rebellion, and from a major ally. 

With Russia, Brazil and very soon Saudi Arabia as well as other Gulf States selling their oil and gas in RMB, we will see more of similar reports.

With Aramco's refinery investments in China, delivering upwards of 700,000 barrels a day, it means that China will be selling finished products to ASEAN and surrounding countries needing energy to develop their economies (may even include American lapdogs). All of that will, of course, be in RMB. 

As petro-dollar gets eaten up by petro-yuan, so goes dollar-hegemony. At some point, the US will be forced by its loss of dollar-hegemony to act responsibly. No longer will it be able to continue with its profligate printing and inflating. No longer will it be able to ask the rest of the world to suffer the consequences of its QEs. No longer will it be able to create unlimited funds to fuel wars and feed its MIC. No longer will it be able to sanction anyone at will. That is how an empire falls, and that is the global change unseen in a century.

I actually predicted this in a Quora article when Trump started the US-China Trade War in 2018. I'm no prophet. All I did was stop believing in lies. Read the comments too. Some of my replies are brutal. I really haven't done much on Quora, maybe starting again after finishing my trilogy, which is taking very long. Here is a cleaner copy on my blog page.

I won't end this without another prediction. This may surprise some people because you can't depend on pundits to tell you any real insight. 

The fall of the empire will cause great changes for Israel and Palestine. A lot of the move to the east by Arabian countries is caused by an unspoken sliver of pain and humiliation stuck in the heart of most Arabs, There are 450 million Arabs surrounding less than 10 million Israelis, of which over 20% are Arabs. 

The walls that Israel built to imprison the Palestinians will become prison walls for the future Israel if they do not see the writing on the wall. 

The Jews will survive as they have survived for millenia. 

The state of Israel has come and gone in the past, and if the modern state of Israel continues on its current path, no one will weep a single tear when it gets replaced by a just and peaceful entity, probably under another name. And they can kiss their shekels goodbye.

PM

Owners Let Their Norwegian Forest Cat Roam Freely Outside, And He Looks Majestic

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In March 2018, Camilla from Norway fell head over heels in love with an 8-week-old kitten she saw online. It was a Norwegian Forest cat looking for his forever home. In the photo that captivated Camilla, the little rascal was simply irresistible, tilting his head and staring at the woman from the screen with the biggest, most innocent eyes she had ever seen.

“I was completely sold,” Camilla told Bored Panda. “A few moments later, [there was no question about it]. Me and my boyfriend Sondre were going to become cat owners. In May, we brought home the sweetest little ball of fur. He made us so happy.”

More: Instagram h/t: boredpanda

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Moscow Diary: The Capital of the Multipolar World

This is about Russia-China - and beyond. 

After nearly 4 decades as a foreign correspondent all over the planet, I am not exactly impressed by anything anymore. 

But my four weeks in Moscow that felt like decades - in the eye of the hurricane - were something on a whole new level. 

I did manage to talk to some of the Chinese sherpas in Xi's delegation. 

Preferred to keep it private. 

The diary was originally published on Strategic Culture - totally censored all across NATOstan. 

And yet ZeroHedge picks up a lot of my columns - without mentioning the source - so now tons of Americans are reading it. 

Talk about a Sun Tzu media move. 

All the best to all of you, 

Pepe 

Link HERE

Escobar: The Capital Of The Multipolar World – A Moscow Diary

by Tyler Durden
Sunday, Apr 02, 2023 – 11:30 AM

Authored by Pepe Escobar,

In Moscow you feel no crisis. No effects of sanctions. No unemployment. No homeless people in the streets. Minimal inflation.

How sharp was good ol’ Lenin, prime modernist, when he mused, “there are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen”. This global nomad now addressing you has enjoyed the privilege of spending four astonishing weeks in Moscow at the heart of an historical crossroads – culminating with the Putin-Xi geopolitical game-changing summit at the Kremlin.

To quote Xi, “changes that haven’t been seen in 100 years” do have a knack of affecting us all in more ways than one.

James Joyce, another modernity icon, wrote that we spend our lives meeting average and/or extraordinary people, on and on and on, but in the end we’re always meeting ourselves. I have had the privilege of meeting an array of extraordinary people in Moscow, guided by trusted friends or by auspicious coincidence: in the end your soul tells you they enrich you and the overarching historical moment in ways you can’t even begin to fathom.

Here are some of them. The grandson of Boris Pasternak, a gifted young man who teaches Ancient Greek at Moscow State University. A historian with unmatched knowledge of Russian history and culture. The Tajik working class huddling together in a chaikhana with the proper ambience of Dushanbe.

Chechens and Tuvans in awe doing the loop in the Big Central Line. A lovely messenger sent by friends extremely careful about security matters to discuss issues of common interest. Exceptionally accomplished musicians performing underground in Mayakovskaya. A stunning Siberian princess vibrant with unbounded energy, taking that motto previously applied to the energy industry – Power of Siberia – to a whole new level.

A dear friend took me to Sunday service at the Devyati Muchenikov Kizicheskikh church, the favorite of Peter the Great: the quintessential purity of Eastern Orthodoxy. Afterwards the priests invited us for lunch in their communal table, displaying not only their natural wisdom but also an uproarious sense of humor.

At a classic Russian apartment crammed with 10,000 books and with a view to the Ministry of Defense – plenty of jokes included – Father Michael, in charge if Orthodox Christianity relations with the Kremlin, sang the Russian imperial anthem after an indelible night of religious and cultural discussions.

I had the honor to meet some of those who were particularly targeted by the imperial machine of lies. Maria Butina – vilified by the proverbial “spy who came in from the cold” shtick – now a deputy at the Duma. Viktor Bout – which pop culture metastasized into the “Lord of War”, complete with Nic Cage movie: I was speechless when he told me he was reading me in maximum security prison in the USA, via pen drives sent by his friends (he had no internet access). The indefatigable, iron-willed Mira Terada – tortured when she was in a U.S. prison, now heading a foundation protecting children caught in hard times.

I spent much treasured quality time and engaged in invaluable discussions with Alexander Dugin – the crucial Russian of these post-everything times, a man of pure inner beauty, exposed to unimaginable suffering after the terrorist assassination of Darya Dugina, and still able to muster a depth and reach when it comes to drawing connections across the philosophy, history and history of civilizations spectrum that is virtually unmatched in the West.

On the offensive against Russophobia

And then there were the diplomatic, academic and business meetings. From the head of international investor relations of Norilsk Nickel to Rosneft executives, not to mention the EAEU’s Sergey Glazyev himself, side by side with his top economic adviser Dmitry Mityaev, I was given a crash course on the current A to Z of Russian economy – including serious problems to be addressed.

At the Valdai Club, what really mattered were the meetings on the sidelines, much more than the actual panels: that’s when Iranians, Pakistanis, Turks, Syrians, Kurds, Palestinians, Chinese tell you what is really in their hearts and minds.

The official launch of the International Movement of Russophiles was a special highlight of these four weeks. A special message written by President Putin was read by Foreign Minister Lavrov, who then delivered his own speech. Later, at the House of Receptions of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, four of us were received by Lavrov at a private audience. Future cultural projects were discussed. Lavrov was extremely relaxed, displaying his matchless sense of humor.

This is a cultural as much as a political movement, designed to fight Russophobia and to tell the Russian story, in all its immensely rich aspects, especially to the Global South.

I am a founding member and my name is on the charter. In my nearly four decades as a foreign correspondent, I have never been part of any political/cultural movement anywhere in the world; nomad independents are a fierce breed. But this is extremely serious: the current, irredeemably mediocre self-described “elites” of the collective West want no less than cancel Russia all across the spectrum. No pasarán.

Spirituality, compassion, mercy

Decades happening in only four weeks imply precious time needed to put it all in perspective.

The initial gut feeling the day I arrived, after a seven-hour walk under snow flurries, was confirmed: this is the capital of the multipolar world. I saw it among the West Asians at the Valdai. I saw it talking to visiting Iranians, Turks and Chinese. I saw it when over 40 African delegations took over the whole area around the Duma – the day Xi arrived in town. I saw it throughout the reception across the Global South to what Xi and Putin are proposing to the overwhelming majority of the planet.

In Moscow you feel no crisis. No effects of sanctions. No unemployment. No homeless people in the streets. Minimal inflation. Import substitution in all areas, especially agriculture, has been a resounding success. Supermarkets have everything – and more – compared to the West. There’s an abundance of first-rate restaurants. You can buy a Bentley or a Loro Pianna cashmere coat you can’t even find in Italy. We laughed about it chatting with managers at the TSUM department store. At the BiblioGlobus bookstore, one of them told me, “We are the Resistance.”

By the way, I had the honor to deliver a talk on the war in Ukraine at the coolest bookshop in town, Bunker, mediated by my dear friend, immensely knowledgeable Dima Babich. A huge responsibility. Especially because Vladimir L. was in the audience. He’s Ukrainian, and spent 8 years, up to 2022, telling it like it really was to Russian radio, until he managed to leave – after being held at gunpoint – using an internal Ukrainian passport. Later we went to a Czech beer hall where he detailed his extraordinary story.

In Moscow, their toxic ghosts are always lurking in the background. Yet one cannot but feel sorry for the psycho Straussian neocons and neoliberal-cons who now barely qualify as Zbig “Grand Chessboard” Brzezinski’s puny orphans.

In the late 1990s, Brzezinski pontificated that, “Ukraine, a new and important space on the Eurasian chessboard, is a geopolitical center because its very existence as an independent state helps transform Russia. Without Ukraine, Russia ceases to be a Eurasian empire.”

With or without a demilitarized and denazified Ukraine, Russia has already changed the narrative. This is not about becoming a Eurasian empire again. This is about leading the long, complex process of Eurasia integration – already in effect – in parallel to supporting true, sovereign independence across the Global South.

I left Moscow – the Third Rome – towards Constantinople – the Second Rome – one day before Secretary of the Security Council Nikolai Patrushev gave a devastating interview to Rossiyskaya Gazeta once again outlining all the essentialities inherent to the NATO vs. Russia war.

This is what particularly struck me: “Our centuries-old culture is based on spirituality, compassion and mercy. Russia is a historical defender of sovereignty and statehood of any peoples who turned to it for help. She saved the U.S. itself at least twice, during the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. But I believe that this time it is impractical to help the United States maintain its integrity.”

In my last night, before hitting a Georgian restaurant, I was guided by the perfect companion off Pyatnitskaya to a promenade along the Moscow River, beautiful rococo buildings gloriously lighted, the scent of Spring – finally – in the air. It’s one of those “Wild Strawberry” moments out of Bergman’s masterpiece that hits the bottom of our soul. Like mastering the Tao in practice. Or the perfect meditative insight at the top of the Himalayas, the Pamirs or the Hindu Kush.

So the conclusion is inevitable. I’ll be back. Soon.

By Global Times

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As US armchair politicians and analysts are hyping up a possible war, true American warriors are calling for peace. Everyone needs to calm down about war with China, top US general Mark Milley said on Friday in an interview with Defense One. On Monday, Taipei Times published a front-page story featuring Milley’s rhetoric.

According to Defense One, the China heat is on following this year’s Chinese balloon saga. In the past few weeks, members of Congress in hearings aimed a list of concerns about China – everything from nuclear weapons to computer chips, “invading” Taiwan, and allying with Russia – at Milley and Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin. “Milley has taken to telling lawmakers that war with China – and Russia – is not imminent or inevitable. It’s part of an effort to lower the heat,” Defense One reported, citing Milley and adding that Milley stressed a more realistic and less emotional approach is needed when dealing with China-US ties.

Milley clearly recognizes the predicament the US faces amid US politicians and media’s excessive hype of tensions with China. To some extent, he was saying that something has gone wrong in the US’ China policy, and the problem is mainly on the US side.

As a career soldier, Milley realizes when the US displays overly hawkish hostility against China, it goes far beyond the actual needs of American national interests. Thus, he made his point – the US military should not be dragged into a war with China for hysterical reasons, in other words, for the constant hype of unreasonable tensions, Shen Yi, a professor at Fudan University, told the Global Times.

Taiwan regional leader Tsai Ing-wen is on a visit to Central America with a planned stop-by in California and a scheduled meeting with Republican House Speaker Kevin McCarthy. US officers, think tanks, and media have been sparing no effort to stir up troubles about the Taiwan question long before the trip. They either constantly make speculations on the timetable of a possible cross-Straits war, or simulate war games on the possible American cost of such a conflict.

When American elites who have never fought in a war are obsessed with talking out loud about a military showdown, Milley remains sober. He is well aware that it is not journalists nor politicians who will have to fight on the front lines. And he knows it is not in the US’ interest to actually fight a war against China. For a career military personnel, it is more important to boost deterrence than actually joining a hot war.

More importantly, it is completely unrealistic for the US to confront both China and Russia militarily simultaneously. Milley is aware of the strength of American military power; thus, he knows that Washington should not provoke Beijing and Moscow at the same time. Otherwise, the US will simply wreck its capability to seek absolute military hegemony worldwide, Song Zhongping, a Chinese military expert and TV commentator, told the Global Times.

Milley’s argument is objective and calculative. After calling for a cooling down of tensions, he said that he prefers the “speak softly, carry a big stick” tactic – lowering the rhetoric a little bit while making sure the US has an incredibly powerful military that is capable. And he agrees with calls for the US to send arms to Taiwan island as quickly as possible.

It means that despite the fact that the US still has a clear military advantage, such an advantage is no longer overwhelming. Hence Milley believes a military means is not an option before it has a sufficient advantage in the armed forces.

That’s the reason for ceaseless US arms sales to the Taiwan island – the US is not preparing to fight China; it is preparing Taiwan island to fight the Chinese mainland. The US won’t willingly sacrifice itself to help Taiwan secessionist forces, but it is willing to fight a proxy war, using the Taiwan island as a consumable or a pawn.

The US still remains the most powerful country on the globe, but its toxic political environment has been eroding its strength since the end of the Cold War. The toxic environment is what drives Milley’s concerns on whether the US’ might can be long-lasting.

China’s development and the US’ decline are not directly related. And the current era is no longer one in which one country can play a dominant role with purely military power. Benign competition can help both China and the US develop. If China becomes strong enough one day, it will be grateful to both its friends and strong competitors, including the US, Song said.

The US is too anxious and hysterical, because it has lost its way and is on the wrong path.

Bratwurst

2023 04 03 13 49
2023 04 03 13 49

Ingredients

  • 1 pound link bratwurst
  • 2 green bell peppers, cut into strips
  • 2 medium onions, sliced
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1 teaspoon basil

Instructions

  1. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet.
  2. Cut the bratwurst into 1-inch pieces and brown well in the skillet.
  3. Add the peppers and onions and sauté until cooked, stirring frequently.
  4. Season and mix well.

OPEC CUTS OIL PRODUCTION

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Within the past few hours today, the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) has agreed to a cut of one million barrels a day in oil production.   This comes just after Russia announced a cut of its own by 500,000 barrels per day.

These cuts will now drive UP the price of oil and, by extension, gasoline and Diesel fuel.

Since the illegitimate Biden regime here in the US has drained much of our Strategic Petroleum Reserve, the regime is now UNABLE to counter this loss of daily production.

UPDATE 6:00 PM EDT —

The White House has reportedly responded to OPEC+’s decision to cut crude production by 1 million barrels/day by saying that “output cuts aren’t advisable right now,” adding that The White House is “focused on prices for American consumers.”

Recall too, Biden threatened the Saudis with “consequences” over last October’s 2 million barrel oil cut but then he took no action.

Let’s see if this new OPEC cut elicits any further response.

Hal Turner Remark: This is a squeeze play against us. They know our idiot in chief has already depleted our strategic oil reserves to artificially lower prices so and they know his options are now very limited. He either continues to deplete those reserves from an already dangerous level or prices are going up.

https://youtu.be/JU5S22pbJgI

GT Voice: China is best safe haven; global investors shouldn’t miss out because of politics

For months, China’s swift economy recovery has been making headlines around the world, often portrayed as the only “bright spot” across a slowing global economy. But what does such a recovery look like? What does it mean for global investors? There was no clear, full picture, and there were some doubts, especially in foreign media.

But, a growing number of recent signs suggest that the pace of the recovery in the world’s second-largest economy is faster than many have expected. In March, the purchasing managers’ index (PMI), a gauge of factory activity, beat some economists’ forecasts and reached 51.9, well within expansion territory. What’s more, the PMI reading for the non-manufacturing sector jumped to 58.2.

And things may be just getting started. Following the two sessions, where China set an annual GDP growth target of about 5 percent this year, Chinese officials at all levels have moved swiftly to further speed up the economic recovery, with a series of policy measures. On Friday, Zhu Zhongming, a vice minister of finance, said China will step up fiscal support for the economy, including tax and fee reductions for businesses. The extended and optimized tax and fee cuts are expected to reduce more than 480 billion yuan ($69.9 billion) in costs for market players.

What’s more, various central government departments and local governments have also launched what appears to be a nationwide campaign to improvement business climate for businesses. Just over the past several days, provincial governments from Northeast China’s Liaoning Province to South China’s Hainan Province held special meetings for the effort.

All of this points to an optimistic picture for China’s economic recovery. Amid the growing signs of rapid recovery, the World Bank, in a report on Friday, raised its forecast for China’s growth by 0.6 percentage point to 5.1 percent in 2023. Some context will help better grasp the scale of China’s recovery this year. For the Asia Pacific, growth excluding that of China will slow to 4.9 percent this year, down 0.9 percentage point from 2022. For the world economy, growth will average 2.2 percent throughout the rest of the decade, according to the World Bank. So, from every aspect, China’s growth will be the bright spot for the world economy – and an ideal market for global businesses seeking growth.

And that’s not all. While China is on a stable trajectory toward recovery, advanced economies like the US and the eurozone are facing both significant slowdowns and the risk of financial and banking crises. The collapse of Silicon Valley Bank and some other banks in the US and the failure of Credit Suisse in Switzerland exposed the profound risks in the Western banking system. While Western officials have repeatedly claimed that a broader crisis is not imminent, investors are understandably jittery and in desperate need for viable options to cushion the risks in advanced economies. And where they could find such options? One word: China.

There is no shortage of fearmongering headlines pushed by the Western media reports about China’s economy. Their assertion is often based on hearsay or outright lies. They claimed that China is increasingly “hostile” to foreign businesses and many foreign businesses are abandoning the Chinese market. But they ignored the steadily increases in foreign investment into China, even during the toughest period of the epidemic. In 2022, foreign direct investment into China grew 6.3 percent to 1.23 trillion yuan. That doesn’t exactly look like a “mass business exodus” from China, does it?

Also, there are the ever growing calls for “decoupling” or “reducing reliance” from US and other Western officials, asserting that it is unsafe for foreign businesses to invest in China. But for any fair-minded person, it should be crystal clear which country is making it unsafe for cross-border investments. In a desperate attempt to preserve its shrinking global dominance, the US is picking fights, economic or otherwise, around the world. It is adopting protectionist policies at home to bolster its domestic industries. Externally, it is imposing unilateral sanctions on any country it deems to be unfriendly. Worse yet, it is now exporting risks of financial and banking crises to the world.

Many multinationals are fully aware of what is actually happening on the ground. And if there was any doubt about China’s continuously expanding market access and improving business climate for global businesses, face-to-face meetings with Chinese officials at two major forums – China Development Forum and the Boao Forum for Asia – should offer sufficient reassurance. For businesses around the world that seek win-win cooperation, don’t miss out on China just because of geopolitical ramblings in the US.

Old South Silken Peanut Soup

2023 04 03 13 51
2023 04 03 13 51

Ingredients

Soup

  • 4 tablespoons butter
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 2 celery stalks with leaves, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons flour
  • 5 cups chicken stock (or vegetable stock which is not traditional)
  • 2/3 cup creamy peanut butter
  • 2/3 cup heavy cream

Garnish

  • Dribbles of heavy cream
  • Finely-minced celery leaves

Instructions

  1. Sauté onion and celery in the butter until soft, but not brown. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring, for about 30 seconds.
  2. Stir in the stock a little at a time, whisking, then bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for 15 minutes.
  3. Puree, solids first, then whisk in peanut butter and cream until the soup is smooth.
  4. When ready to serve, reheat (don’t let boil), then ladle into small bowls.
  5. Dribble 1/2 teaspoon of cream in a pretty pattern, then sprinkle with minced celery leaves and finely crushed peanuts.
  6. Serve immediately.
  7. Serve hot as a first course.

Survivor of last week’s Tornados talks about his “Preps” and what went wrong

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2023 04 03 13 11
2023 04 03 13 11

I found this story while surfing the web and thought it would be very relevant and helpful to my readers.  It’s from a guy who survived the Tornados in Little Rock, Arkansas this week.  Quick read . . .

My City Being Hit By A Tornado Taught A lot About The Limits Of My PREPS

Ok, so we live in Little Rock.

An entire swath of the city from basically the southwest toward the river just looks like a bomb went off.

Been without power since the Tornado struck our neighborhood, luckily for my family, our home was spared any significant damage. Though it was one of the scariest things I've ever been through. There is nothing like holding your wife and daughter in a pitch black bathroom while it sounds like a freight train is barreling through your entire world.

With that said we've been running off preps at the moment and I have learned a lot about things.

1) Bad things happen FAST. It was just a "normal afternoon" and lucky for us we were all home, but within the span of hardly anytime we went from tornado sirens, to all in the sheltered part of our home, to what sounded like the world was being torn apart outside, to no power, no cell service, no nothing within minutes. Having plans of how to get in touch or meet up should we have all been separated are non existent really and I need to make one and improve on that.

2)Ham radio was a lifesaver. Literally. Remember cell service went down instantly here. A tower was crumped like a pretzel and no one could call out or in. I was listening and talking on the 2M repeater here in town right before the storm after the warning went off with storm spotters. After the tornado moved on I quickly began checking on neighbors. Ingress and egress to the neighborhood was blocked by downed trees. Within minutes I was able to get a group of hams from close by and their friends and other neighbors with chainsaws to make quick work of cutting and moving them. This allowed for emergency services to get in quickly and rescue an elderly resident from her home who may have been having a heart attack. Without this kind of ability to quickly coordinate, void of grid comms, I don't know if that would have been so efficient. More people need to at the least their Technician license, and be active on simplex and their local repeaters.

3) You need more gas. I need more gas. I keep two 5 gallon NATO jerry cans USUALLY full. When I fill up our truck I will fill them up also, then have gotten into the bad habit of using that gas and not filling them up immediately. Bad mistake. I had to make a run, after the pandemonium, to a gas station with power. Not smart. This was a failure on my part. Never again will I be without gas on hand for my generator. Also adding two more jerry cans. Keep oil on hand too for your generator and the oil changed. Luckily I done so very recently.

4) Luckily for us the weather is quite pleasant, so our small generator need only run our fridge, freezer, etc. But we are heavily reliant on gas for our cooking and water. Should the gas lines be down (if they need repair) these service would not work. Need more public gas independent methods of doing this things. I have a small camp stove but with limited propane this isn't great. Adding keeping LP on hand and a camp shower and solar shower option.

5) There are VERY FEW PEOPLE PREPARED. It definitely made me aware of how after a few days without supplies people will be coming FOR YOUR SHIT. There is only a handful of people in my neighborhood with generators. We are being generous and allowing people to charge phones, laptops, etc. But at night, when all the lights were out and there was no cell service, It certainly made me aware that my whirring generator and the smell from my neighbors grill cooking steaks, would be a call for starving and desperate in times of need. Definitely makes one consider the bug in / bug out argument. I don't have a definitive response for that at the moment, just making notice. These leftist idiots sayings stupid shit like "why does anyone NEED an AR15?" Well that's why. Your shit will be at the least harder to take if you are well armed and able to defend against MULTIPLE attackers.

6) Candles Candles Candles. Flashlights are good but you need more candles. Buy a big ass pack of tea lights or a few. Buy a case. You need more than you think. Again flashlights are great, definitely headlamps are VERY helpful.

7) Should this event have happened in the bitter cold of winter we can heat our home with wood, and usually have plenty, had it been the 100 degree summer, this would really suck. A small window AC unit is probably a good investment to at least be able to keep one room comfortable. Buying one.

We now have cell service back, though power is still out. It is not estimated to be back on until very late this evening, thought he lineman working our area said that was itself a very optimistic window.

So far, no loss of life that I know of, which is surprising when you actually see the damage this tornado caused.

Godspeed. Stay prepared. Shit goes crazy in a snap. It's never the thing you see coming that gets you.

China EximBank, Saudi National Bank achieve first loan cooperation in yuan

The Export-Import Bank of China (China EximBank), a major policy bank in China, announced on Tuesday that it has achieved the first loan cooperation with Saudi National Bank, the largest bank in Saudi Arabia, in yuan, facilitating financial cooperation under the framework of the China-proposed Belt and Road Initiative (BRI).

The move shows the rising role of the yuan on the international stage, expanding from trade settlement to loans, an expert told the Global Times.

The funds will be preferentially used to meet the demand of China-Saudi Arabia trade projects, China EximBank said on its official WeChat account.

The cooperation is a concrete manifestation of implementation of the comprehensive strategic partnership agreement signed in person by the heads of the two states in December last year, said the bank.

As the first case of cooperation between China EximBank and financial institutions in Saudi Arabia, it will help facilitate financing and trade among countries and regions along the routes of the BRI, and achieve mutual benefit and win-win results, China EximBank added.

China and Saudi Arabia have made much progress in creating synergy between their strategies and conducting bilateral cooperation in various fields in recent years.

The Middle East country remained the single biggest oil supplier to China in 2022. Bilateral trade reached $116 billion last year, up 33.1 percent on a yearly basis.

Imports from the Middle East country stood at $78 billion, up 37 percent year-on-year, according to China’s customs data.

Dong Dengxin, director of the Finance and Securities Institute of the Wuhan University of Science and Technology, told the Global Times on Wednesday that the international role of the yuan is growing, expanding from trade settlements and cross-border investment to loans.

In 2022, yuan settlements of cross-border goods trade stood at 7.92 trillion yuan ($1.15 trillion), an increase of 37.3 percent year-on-year, while cross-border yuan settlements of direct investment stood at 6.76 trillion yuan, up 16.6 percent, data from China’s Ministry of Commerce showed in January.

“The loan cooperation between China EximBank and Saudi National Bank in the yuan is a good template for deals with other countries, especially in the countries and regions along the BRI routes,” Dong noted.

The yuan’s growing momentum in overseas markets is unstoppable with the nation’s further opening-up, Dong said, adding that its influence is obviously picking up in the Middle East region, where some countries are faced with unilateral sanctions by the West.

Iraq’s central bank said in February that it plans to allow trade from China to be settled directly in the yuan for the first time, in an attempt to improve access to foreign currency, according to Reuters.

“It is the first time imports would be financed from China in the yuan, as Iraqi imports from China have been financed in (US) dollars only,” said Mudhir Salih, the government’s economic adviser, according to a Reuters report.

Separately, an Iranian official said Iran and China have recently talked about increasing the share of their national currencies in two-way trade, given that the yuan accounts for a considerable part of bilateral trade, and de-dollarization is on the government agenda, according to Iran newspaper Financial Tribune.

Other countries such as Russia and Vietnam have also opted to use the yuan in trade settlements, an indication that the currency’s internationalization not only suits China’s needs but also those of more countries.

“It will be an inevitable trend for China to step up cooperation with its trade partners in the yuan as the latter will refuse to accept the US’ economic coercion,” said Dong.

ChatGPT prompts and result

I followed your suggestion and asked for a Global Times rewrite:
China and the United States: A Comparative Analysis of Their Balance Sheets

In recent years, China and the United States have emerged as two of the world's largest economic powers, with significant influence on global financial markets. As such, it is essential to take a closer look at their respective balance sheets to understand their economic strengths and weaknesses. In this analysis, we will examine the balance sheets of China and the United States, and compare their government, corporate, and household finances.

Government Finances:

In terms of government finances, both China and the United States have a significant amount of debt. China's national debt as a percentage of GDP stands at around 60%, while the United States' national debt is at around 107% of GDP. However, it is worth noting that China has a higher level of foreign reserves, which are around $3 trillion, compared to the United States' reserves of $121 billion. This indicates that China has a higher level of financial security in the event of a financial crisis.

Corporate Finances:

When it comes to corporate finances, China has a higher level of corporate debt than the United States. This can be attributed to the significant amount of investment made in the country's infrastructure and real estate sector in recent years. However, it is important to note that China's corporate debt is largely held by state-owned enterprises, which could pose a potential risk to the economy in the event of an economic downturn. On the other hand, the United States has a higher level of equity financing, with a more significant proportion of corporate financing coming from the stock market. This suggests that the United States' corporate sector may be more resilient in the face of economic challenges.

Household Finances:

In terms of household finances, China has a higher level of household savings than the United States. This can be attributed to the cultural differences between the two countries, where Chinese households tend to save a higher proportion of their income compared to American households. However, it is important to note that China's household savings are largely held in low-yielding bank accounts, which may not provide adequate returns over time. On the other hand, American households have a higher level of equity investments, which have historically provided higher returns over the long-term.

Overall, it is evident that both China and the United States have unique strengths and weaknesses in their respective balance sheets. While China has a higher level of foreign reserves and household savings, it also has a higher level of corporate debt held by state-owned enterprises. In contrast, the United States has a higher level of equity financing and a more significant proportion of corporate financing coming from the stock market. By understanding the strengths and weaknesses of each economy, policymakers in both countries can make informed decisions to promote economic growth and stability.

In conclusion, it is clear that both China and the United States have significant economic influence on the global stage. By examining their respective balance sheets, we can gain a better understanding of their economic strengths and weaknesses. As policymakers in the United States continue to navigate economic challenges, it is essential that they take into account the lessons learned from China's economic model to achieve long-term stability and growth.

White House ADMITS Countries worldwide Refusing U.S. Dollar

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White House spokeswoman Karin Jean-Pierre was asked what the Biden regime was doing about countries switching away from US Dollars and using their own currency as settlement of foreign trade.  Her response was stunning . . . .

"Switching to national currencies is a violation of the rights of American citizens."

The White House then threatened with sanctions those countries that refuse the dollar in mutual settlements.

It’s already trending on social media:

 

 

So there you have it.  Countries around the world have, IN FACT, either stated their intention to cease accepting the US Dollar, or have already begun refusing the US Dollar.

The White House has now tacitly acknowledged it.

This is now a slow-moving train wreck for the United States.  Our federal government has abused so many countries with our “economic sanctions” and has done it for so long, that countries around the world have begun rejecting the US dollar as a means of payment for international trade.

If countries no longer accept the US Dollar, then the US Government has no means by which to impose economic sanctions.  The US Government becomes toothless against all those foreign nations.

On top of the economic sanctions abuse, that same US federal government has over-spent by so much, and run-up so much debt, that the world is rapidly losing faith that the US dollar will have __any__ value at all.

What this means for you and me here in the USA, is that hyper-inflation is already on its way.

Here’s why:

For almost 100 years, the US Dollar has been __THE__ currency for the world.   It has been the only reliable currency for everyone.

No matter what country chose to trade with any OTHER country, both countries knew that settling the trade in US dollars preserved the value of their trade and was a rock-solid measure of value.

In order to be able to smoothly carry out those foreign trades, central banks all over the world, kept a supply a US Dollars in their central banks, so trade could be settled.

As of right now, at least six point four TRILLION U.S. Dollars, are resting in the central banks around the world.

As more and more countries cease using the dollar, foreign banks will no longer need to keep those dollars in their central banks.

Those dollars will begin to come home to the USA.

As those dollars come home, the value of the US dollar, against foreign currencies, will begin to drop. (Because nobody will want the Dollars)

Now, we here in the USA don’t manufacture much of anything anymore.  Thanks to the corporate imbeciles who pushed us into becoming a “service economy” much of our manufacturing was shipped out to foreign countries.

Then, thanks to the other imbeciles who pushed “Free Trade” we removed Tariffs from foreign goods imported into our country.  The idea was sold to us by the “Free Trade” shysters who claimed that if the US dropped tariffs, then all other countries would drop tariffs and that would mean American-made products would be cheaper overseas, thereby increasing demand, thereby increasing American jobs.

THAT WAS A FRAUD.

The people pushing “Free Trade” had no intention at all of selling American-made products to more foreign countries.  What they ACTUALLY wanted was to ship American JOBS to foreign countries, use the cheap foreign labor, then sell those same products back here in the USA for the same high prices and without Tariffs!  That allowed the manufacturers to pocket the increased profits from using cheap foreign labor but still sell the same good here in the US for the same high price.

In the end, it was only American JOBS that got exported, not American products.

So we now see the result of the “double-whammy.”   Hit #1 was when we changed to a “service economy”.   Hit #2 was when we bought into the “Free Trade” lie which allowed corporate Boards of Directors to move manufacturing jobs OUT of the USA to pocket the profits from cheap foreign labor.

Which brings us back to the value of the US Dollar.  Since we don’t manufacture much here anymore, and have to buy MOST of the things we use from foreign manufacturers’, as the value of the dollar plummets, everything we need to buy will become FAR more expensive;  several hundred percent more expensive!!!

This is what YOUR members of the US House of Representatives, and YOUR members of the US Senate have done.  They have abused so many countries with the threat or actual application of economic sanctions, that those countries are now abandoning the US dollar AND, they’ve so over-spent that people worldwide now see the US Dollar as being UNRELIABLE and heading toward being worthless.

YOUR member of Congress caused this.

YOUR member of the Senate caused this.

When YOU cannot afford food and YOUR family is going hungry . . . or when YOU cannot buy the typical normal things that every family needs . . . .remember that when you see your members of Congress and the Senate on the street.

When you see them, hold them accountable right then and there.

A little story

Hi <redacted>,

My feedback on your 10 questions was that I thought they would need to be reframed to a less complicated language.

A little of my own history, specifically because I recognized some years ago the war propaganda against China, I asked the Saker at the now frozen site if I could write a regular column on China.  That site was in existence specifically to fight the empire's war on Russia and as recent history unfolded, we saw the very same war on China.  It has been there for a long time but now only some years ago did it reach a prominence.  But I was outside the focus of the Saker's site and had to be careful and could not be too enthusiastic on China.  That was simply the norms of the site, and not anyone's shortcomings but lead to me to design the weekly articles as a magazine style and not too threatening to then existent propagandized minds.    

I knew we had to go broader, as the initial war on Russia was only a part of the development of the world and the war on China was equally and even actually more important.  This could not be done on the then existent Saker site, and this is why I opened globalsouth.co - for a broader view on our world and the process of multipolarization and a fair economic structure globally.   China is a massive part of that and a leader.        

Initially the China content was to say the least not welcome and I was beaten to a pulp.  This is what I learned:  



  • Debunking takes too much time away from productive activities.  Your article quoted here I would handle simply as follows:  “This is a falun gong newspaper and that specific article repeats regularly, sometimes quoting organs are being taken from falun gong, and in other cases quoting organs being taken from the supposed ‘Uyghur concentration camps’ in Xinjiang.   And then I would add links like: – What is falun gong, -What is happening in Xinjiang  and other such appropriate or something that I had pre-developed.  Should the commentator come back with more gripes, without reading the background material, I could not be less interested because it is a waste of time to get involved in this granular level of bickering, trying to inform those that do not want to be informed.
  • A clear understanding that I cannot, even on such a big site as the now frozen Saker site, do a great deal to change minds.  And this lead to …
  • A surprise finding.  On those articles I started following the elephants that went walk-about, every week.  This lovely and emotional story engaged people and changed minds and hearts.  People would start asking me to please keep updating on the elephants.  People would start comparing how their country would have handled something like that.  And as the elephants walked, the China story grew.  Who would have thunk?
  • At the end of the range of articles, the positive comments outweighted the negative comments materially.
  • I took the direct feedback from the previous week’s articles, to design the content for the next week on the smaller magazine article mostly drawn from Godfree’s newsletter (and I am so grateful for that!) and a bigger article.  That worked and now, if I do a China article, there is no negativity.   I get email asking me to handle certain issues and it has changed to a net positive.  It is as if people, at least in our grouping, now are open to want to know, and not fight.  The minds have opened.
This personally designed process lead to major articles on say Governance or Economy or Technology, or Propaganda, and these were eventually tolerated on that site.  But it took time.   I had to swallow and tolerate comments such as "The Mad Han on the Saker Site probably eats baby organs for breakfast".     

We now have a problem in our fraternal sites.  Seemingly some Russian commentators are creating polarization in the Russian/Chinese relationship.  I just handled one of those and surprisingly I had some Russians write me to say ... High Time that someone said something!  

These commentators are following the western line.  

And took it back to their sites.  So far, I have not made enemies among the fraternal sites even with professional and respectful critique of this sore point.  Again, I won't change minds, but I find that many are now much more careful on how they phrase their issues.  We gotta be thankful for small mercies yes.      
    
So, to end, one has to decide what suits your own style.  In reality, I am not the savior of the west, their alt media, and their cockamamie ideas and propaganda about China.  The simplest question now is:  OK, you don't believe the propaganda about Russia, so, don't you think the story about China is equally propagandized and contrived in order to war against China?  

I personally am best placed to inform those that are already interested and willing to work at it, and in such a way build a network effect.  So far, I have not even one infographic developed, but I do have an extensive library for things like Free Tibet, or China is our Enemy, Tiananmen Square, the development of western propaganda,  or such topical issues. 

So, this is my own story.  A blend of encouraging those that are interested but know nothing, ruthlessly pruning those who want to bicker, giving people the information to go and do the debunking themselves and as such save myself time, and telling the positive story about China.

Again, if you want to develop something larger, I will of course help with dissimination, but so far, I have to follow what works for me and was developed on a site that was not fully friendly to this pivot and did not really believe that it needs attention.  Yikes, walking on egg shells.   

I hope I did not waste your time in relating this history.  In my heart, I am with you but real hard experience let me know that one has to labor and toil in your own garden almost peer-to-peer.  A large anti-propaganda and debunking campaign would have to be as large as the initial propaganda campaign to make even a dent.      

<redacted>

Highly Detailed Illustrations By Ilya Milstein

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Ilya Milstein is a Milan-born, Melbourne-raised and New-York based illustrator that works in a pretty traditional way.

«I’m drafting all my work with blue pencil, then hand-drawing them with black ink on paper before coloring them in computer», he says.

More: Ilya Milstein, Instagram h/t: fubiz

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The Melancholy of Dreams: Illustrations by Felicia Chiao

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Felicia Chiao is an artist from California who sketches the life of a certain bald man. The little man is melancholic but sweet, and his existence is dull and sad, but his sadness is light and even cozy. Chiao’s illustrations suggest that she depicts the typical everyday life of each of us – drawn out like an old man’s daydreams.

More: Instagram, Patreon

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Opinion: ‘Most U.S. banks are technically near insolvency, and hundreds are already fully insolvent,’ Roubini says

In January 2022, when yields on U.S. 10-year Treasury bonds TMUBMUSD10Y, 3.503% were still roughly 1% and those on German Bunds were -0.5%, I warned that inflation would be bad for both stocks and bonds.

Higher inflation would lead to higher bond yields, which in turn would hurt stocks as the discount factor for dividends rose. But, at the same time, higher yields on “safe” bonds would imply a fall in their price, too, owing to the inverse relationship between yields and bond prices.

This basic principle — known as “duration risk” — seems to have been lost on many bankers, fixed-income investors, and bank regulators. As rising inflation in 2022 led to higher bond yields, 10-year Treasurys lost more value (-20%) than the S&P 500  SPX, +1.44% (-15%), and anyone with long-duration fixed-income assets denominated in U.S. dollars DX00, -0.13% or euros USDEUR, -0.27% was left holding the bag.

The consequences for these investors have been severe. By the end of 2022, U.S. banks’ unrealized losses on securities had reached $620 billion, about 28% of their total capital ($2.2 trillion).

Making matters worse, higher interest rates have reduced the market value of banks’ other assets as well. If you make a 10-year bank loan when long-term interest rates are 1%, and those rates then rise to 3.5%, the true value of that loan (what someone else in the market would pay you for it) will fall. Accounting for this implies that U.S. banks’ unrealized losses actually amount to $1.75 trillion, or 80% of their capital.

The “unrealized” nature of these losses is merely an artifact of the current regulatory regime, which allows banks to value securities and loans at their face value rather than at their true market value.

In fact, judging by the quality of their capital, most U.S. banks are technically near insolvency, and hundreds are already fully insolvent.

To be sure, rising inflation reduces the true value of banks’ liabilities (deposits) by increasing their “deposit franchise,” an asset that is not on their balance sheet. Since banks still pay near 0% on most of their deposits, even though overnight rates have risen to 4% or more, this asset’s value rises when interest rates are higher. Indeed, some estimates suggest that rising interest rates have increased U.S. banks’ total deposit-franchise value by about $1.75 trillion.

If depositors flee, the deposit franchise evaporates, and the unrealized losses on securities become realized. Bankruptcy then becomes unavoidable.

But this asset exists only if deposits remain with banks as rates rise, and we now know from Silicon Valley Bank and the experience of other U.S. regional banks that such stickiness is far from assured. If depositors flee, the deposit franchise evaporates, and the unrealized losses on securities become realized as banks sell them to meet withdrawal demands. Bankruptcy then becomes unavoidable.

Moreover, the “deposit-franchise” argument assumes that most depositors are dumb and will keep their money in accounts bearing near 0% interest when they could be earning 4% or more in totally safe money-market funds that invest in short-term Treasurys. But, again, we now know that depositors are not so complacent. The current, apparently persistent flight of uninsured — and even insured — deposits is probably being driven as much by depositors’ pursuit of higher returns as by their concerns about the safety of their deposits.

Investing Insights with Global Context

In short, after being a non-factor for the past 15 years — ever since policy and short-term interest rates fell to near-zero following the 2008 global financial crisis — the interest-rate sensitivity of deposits has returned to the fore. Banks assumed a highly foreseeable duration risk because they wanted to fatten their net-interest margins. They seized on the fact that while capital charges on government-bond and mortgage-backed securities were zero, the losses on such assets did not have to be marked to market. To add insult to injury, regulators did not even subject banks to stress tests to see how they would fare in a scenario of sharply rising interest rates.

The economy is falling into a ‘debt trap.’

Now this house of cards is collapsing. The credit crunch caused by today’s banking stress will create a harder landing for the U.S. economy, owing to the key role that regional banks play in financing small- and medium-size enterprises and households.

Central banks therefore face not just a dilemma but a trilemma. Owing to recent negative aggregate supply shocks — including the COVID pandemic and the war in Ukraine — achieving price stability through interest-rate hikes was bound to raise the risk of a hard landing (a recession and higher unemployment). But, as I have been arguing for over a year, this vexing tradeoff also features the additional risk of severe financial instability.

Borrowers are facing rising rates — and thus much higher capital costs — on new borrowing and on existing liabilities that have matured and need to be rolled over. But the increase in long-term rates is also leading to massive losses for creditors holding long-duration assets. As a result, the economy is falling into a “debt trap,” with high public deficits and debt causing “fiscal dominance” over monetary policy, and high private debts causing “financial dominance” over monetary and regulatory authorities.

As I have long warned, central banks confronting this trilemma will likely wimp out (by curtailing monetary-policy normalization) to avoid a self-reinforcing economic and financial meltdown, and the stage will be set for a de-anchoring of inflation expectations over time. Central banks must not delude themselves into thinking they can still achieve both price and financial stability through some kind of separation principle (raising rates to fight inflation while also using liquidity support to maintain financial stability). In a debt trap, higher policy rates will fuel systemic debt crises that liquidity support will be insufficient to resolve.

Central banks also must not assume that the coming credit crunch will kill inflation by reining in aggregate demand. After all, the negative aggregate supply shocks are persisting, and labor markets remain too tight. A severe recession is the only thing that can temper price and wage inflation, but it will make the debt crisis more severe, and that in turn will feed back into an even deeper economic downturn. Since liquidity support cannot prevent this systemic doom loop, everyone should be preparing for the coming stagflationary debt crisis.

Report: Israel Passes U.S. Military Technology to China

"From personal knowledge, I know that the IDF has had a very long and deep relationship with the PLA, a lot of it being under the radar. They took off their uniform, put on a different hat, and visited each other (doing a lot of things behind closed doors) when it was not kosher to do so."

Secret U.S. missile and electro-optics technology was transferred to China recently by Israel, prompting anger from the U.S. and causing a senior Israeli defense official to resign.

The head of defense exports for the Israeli Defense Ministry resigned after a U.S. investigation concluded that technology, including a miniature refrigeration system manufactured by Ricor and used for missiles and in electro-optic equipment, was sent to China, according to the Israeli newspaper Maariv.

Another Israeli news site, Aretz Sheva, reports the U.S. is concerned the technology could ultimately find its way to Iran, which last year sought to buy military equipment from China for its nuclear program.

Ricor, on its company website, identifies a number of defense programs using its miniature cryo-coolers, including UAVs, airborne enhanced vision systems, missile warning systems, hand-held thermal imagers and thermal weapons sights.

The Maariv report identified the Israeli defense official as Meir Shalit, and said he apologized to U.S. officials on a recent visit.

Israel has a long record of getting U.S. military technology to China.

In the early 1990s then-CIA Director James Woolsey told a Senate Government Affairs Committee that Israel had been selling U.S. secrets to China for about a decade. More than 12 years ago the U.S. demanded Israel cancel a contract to supply China with Python III missiles, which included technology developed by the U.S. for its Sidewinder missiles, The Associated Press reported in 2002.

Biden ADMITS: Using Indictment(s) Against Trump “To make sure he does not become President Again”

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Biden all but confirmed that his team is coordinating these Trump indictments to “Demonstrate he will not take power” and “making sure . . . he does not become the next President again.”
https://htrs-special.s3.us-west-2.amazonaws.com/Biden-MakeSureTrumpDoesntBecomePresidentAgain.mp4

Program shows CIA behind Wikipedia entries

Michael Edwards
Posted , updated 
.

The world according to the online encyclopedia Wikipedia is in a constant state of update, as tens of thousands of contributors work to ensure the site’s content is correct.

But now an innovation on the site has confirmed a long-held suspicion: that Wikipedia is a prime target for spin-doctoring.

A new identification program on the site reveals that some of the most prolific contributors to Wikipedia are the CIA, the British Labour Party and the Vatican – and they are not just updating their own entries.

The Wikiscanner site shows the CIA has edited entries on many issues relating to the United States Government, including presidential biographies and descriptions of military operations.

It has also edited topics as diverse as Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations and the singer Richard Marx.

Seamus Byrne is the editor of online technology site Gizmodo Australia.

“Wikipedia is basically an open encyclopedia online that basically anyone can edit, anyone can add entries to and anyone can change anything they read on there,” he said.

But he says while anyone can put up content, users do keep track of entries to ensure they’re accurate and balanced.

“It’s quite a large community of users that are really devoted to Wikipedia, and something they do spend a lot of time monitoring is when changes are made,” he said.

“I guess so far it hasn’t been a case of monitoring the source, but they do try to keep an eye on any bias that may appear within any articles.”

And the Wikiscanner has revealed some interesting sources of that bias. It rummages through entries and edits posted on Wikipedia to find where they originate.

And among the usual list of companies and celebrities spinning their online image are some unusual mentions, including the British Labour Party, the Church of Scientology and the CIA.

Mr Byrne says he is not surprised.

“You’ve always got the feeling that they’ve been doing it and it just confirms that idea because there’s a lot of both vanity editing but more serious editing that goes on,” he said.

Checking sources

Gerard Goggin is an expert on the use of the internet in politics at Sydney University, and he says the influence of organisations such as the CIA on Wikipedia is cause for alarm.

“This underscores that we need to be careful with all the sources we quote,” he said.

Despite the CIA’s input, Dr Goggin remains a fan of Wikipedia.

“What is really crucial here is that people are aware of how Wikipedia comes to be, how entries are created and what the limitations of it are,” he said.

“One of its advantages is that any change to the entries can be tracked and you can actually reference those. People need to be aware of that kind of thing because Wikipedia is not the be-all and end-all.”

Mr Byrne says proof that the CIA is editing on Wikipedia will fuel internet conspiracy theories.

He says Wikipedia is just one place where government agencies are watching people.

“Obviously there’s the quite large – and people in online circles certainly know about it – Echelon Project,” he said.

“It’s a series of surveillance systems around the world that actually monitor phone, data, all kinds of traffic that goes on, looking for keywords related to things like terrorism and all kinds of troublesome issues and they pull that out and try to sift through it to find any connections that could be made to point to a real problem.”

Indonesian Chicken Breasts

You can make this with whole chicken breasts or with boneless ones. The advantage of the boneless is that they are lower in fat and easy to slice and work well on a serving platter. The advantage of the whole ones is that they have more flavor.

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Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup fresh-squeezed orange juice
  • 1/4 cup peanut butter
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons best quality curry powder
  • 1/4 cup shredded coconut
  • 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 1 pound)
  • 1 medium red bell pepper, cut in half

Instructions

  1. Make a marinade from the first 5 ingredients. Pour it over the chicken and refrigerate for several hours, turning it occasionally to make sure every part of the chicken is coated.
  2. Heat the grill and remove the chicken from the marinade.
  3. Grill the chicken and the bell pepper for about 15 minutes, using the leftover marinade as you do so.
  4. To serve, cut chicken and the pepper diagonally into 1-inch slices.

Indonesian Pork Skewers

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2023 04 04 15 43

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup vinegar
  • 1/4 cup prepared mustard
  • 1/4 cup light molasses
  • 2 tablespoons ginger preserves or orange marmalade
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1 (1 1/2 pound) lean boneless pork, cut into 1-inch cubes
  • 1/2 medium pineapple, halved lengthwise, cored and cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
  • 1 medium red sweet pepper, cut into strips

Instructions

  1. Combine the vinegar, mustard, molasses, ginger preserves and ginger in a small mixing bowl.
  2. Alternately thread the pork cubes, pineapple slices and pepper strips on 12 (6-inch) metal skewers, leaving about 1/4 inch between pieces.
  3. Brush with the molasses mixture.
  4. Grill the kabobs on the rack of an uncovered grill directly over medium-hot coals about 12 minutes or until no pink remains and juices run clear, turning and brushing with molasses mixture after 6 minutes.
  5. Heat the remaining molasses mixture and pass with the kabobs.

‘Medicine God’ in Central China found guilty, but faces no punishment for illegal trading of epilepsy medication

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In less than a year after China approved domestically-developed anti-epilepsy drug Clobazam, a father in Central China’s Henan Province whose daughter is epileptic finally received a verdict from a local court over his case for privately buying the medicine from overseas and trading it online before it was legally available in the Chinese market.

The father, surnamed Hu, was found guilty of illegal sale of goods but will not face any criminal punishment, according to the judgement of a court in the Zhongmu county on Thursday.

Hu reportedly began buying Clobazam from overseas via the internet and sold to other families with epileptic children in 2020.

Synthesized in the 1960s with the primary goal of providing greater efficacy with fewer benzodiazepine-related side effects, Clobazam has been approved in more than 100 countries and regions to treat epilepsy and is regarded as the last resort to tackle a few specific types of epilepsy that affect minors.

But the medicine was listed as a second category psychotropic drug in China, meaning that it is potentially addictive and must be strictly controlled. Under this circumstance, a number of Chinese patients had to purchase the medication from overseas via private agencies or foreign websites.

In July 2021, Hu was arrested together with other four mothers with epileptic children on suspicion of trafficking, transporting and trading drugs. The prosecutors decided not to charge the four mothers, but filed a lawsuit against Hu, according to media reports.

Hu stood trial for the first time in March 2022. He was released on pending in April 2022. When the second trial in the case opened on Thursday, the prosecutor noted that Hu had been engaged in illegal purchase and sale of a controlled substance.

Liu Chang, Hu’s attorney, stressed to the court that, in essence, Hu’s behavior was a good faith effort to try and save and help each other, which conforms with the definition of China’s regulations of the behavior of production, import and sale of medicines with self-rescue and mutual assistance for non-profit purposes.

Liu said that the judgment in this case reiterated the Supreme People’s Court’s rules for identifying narcotic drugs and psychotropic drugs, that is, narcotic drugs have dual attributes and should be judged in light of where they come from and how they are used.

For psychotropic medicines like Clobazam that are indeed used for medical treatment, the court adopted the defendant’s position and resolutely refused to recognize it as a drug, reflecting humanity of the judiciary, Liu told media.

After the trial, the court explained to media that Hu had made profit worth about 500,000 yuan by selling Clobazam. This has disrupted the order of the drug market, and therefore he stood guilty. This sentence would also help prevent others from imitating his behavior. However, considering that the medicines Hu bought and sold are used to treat epileptic patients and did not lead to a serious social impact, no penalty was imposed, the court said.

Clobazam gained public attention in China in November 2021 as the arrest of Hu and other four mothers leading to thousands of parents pleaded on social media platforms for legal access to the then domestically unapproved medicine that could provide a lifeline for their children.

The National Health Commission (NHC) replied in December 2022, saying that it is researching the medical needs of patients and coordinating with other government departments to organize bulk procurements and imports of Clobazam.

In March 2022, the NHC released a list of 50 medical institutions that would take the lead in importing and using Clobazam.

A generic version of Clobazam, produced by Yichang Humanwell Pharmaceutical in Central China’s Hubei Province, was awarded the country’s first market approval for the medication in September 2022. It is priced at 84 yuan per package that contains 28 tablets of 10 milligrams each, which is reportedly “the world’s lowest” price.

Clobazam is among the various medicines that had been made newly available in China as the country in recent years enhanced efforts in medicine accessibility after the issue of difficult access to and high prices of some rare medicines in China caught public attention in 2017 with the release of a film tiled Dying to Survive.

The film is based on the story of Lu Yong who imported affordable generic anti-cancer medicines from India and sold them online to help chronic myeloid leukemia patients in China. Lu was dubbed ”the Medicine God” by Chinese netizens due to his efforts in providing inexpensive medicine to Chinese mainland leukemia patients.

Along with the efforts of Chinese governments, in the past five years, a total of 618 medicines have been included into the nation’s medical insurance system, according to media reports.

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2023 04 05 07 49

China’s Proctor & Gamble Politics

Godfree Roberts

Chinese democracy resembles Procter & Gamble more than Pericles of Athens.

Hundreds of times every day an arm of government asks people their opinion, solicits solutions to their revealed problems and test-markets the most promising. VC Robin Daverman explains:

China is a giant trial portfolio with millions of trials everywhere: innovations in everything from healthcare to poverty reduction, education, energy, trade, and transportation are being trialed in different communities. Every one of China’s 662 cities is experimenting: Shanghai with free trade zones, Guizhou with poverty reduction, twenty-three cities with education reforms, Northeastern provinces with SOE reform, pilot schools, pilot cities, pilot hospitals, pilot markets, pilot everything. Mayors and governors, the Primary Investigators, share their ‘lab results’ at the Central Party School and publish them in State-owned media, their ‘scientific journals.’

Significant policies usually begin as ‘clinical trials’ in small towns, where they generate test data. If the stats look right, they’ll add test sites and do long-term follow ups. They test and tweak for 10-30 years, then ask the 3,000-member People’s Congress to review the data and authorize national trials in three provinces. If those trials are successful, the State Council (China’s Brains Trust) polishes the plan and returns it to Congress for a final vote. It’s very transparent, and if your data is better than mine, your bill gets passed, and mine doesn’t. Congressional votes are nearly unanimous because reams of data back the legislation.

This allows China to accomplish a great deal in a short time because your winning solution will be quickly propagated throughout the country. You’ll be a front-page hero, invited to high-level meetings in Beijing and promoted. As you can imagine, the competition to solve problems is intense.

Local governments have a great deal of freedom to try their own things as long as the local people support them. Various villages and small towns have tested everything from bare-knuckled liberalism to straight Communism.

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2023 04 08 15 42

Critics who label China’s Congress a ‘rubber stamp’ miss the point of that institution: to vote based on data, not rhetoric or promises. Congresspeople visit mature Trial Spots, survey local opinion, audit statistics, calculate budgetary impacts, and debate national scalability and political viability. Though few trials even reach the provincial level – where they can affect one-hundred million people – even failures contribute to the trove of data that shapes legislation.

Trial Spots, and the data they generate, are one of China’s most remarkable political strengths. They allow legislation to be rolled out confidently and rapidly and, largely thanks to them, most Chinese say the country is run for their benefit rather than for particular groups. Harvard’s Tony Saich, who conducts his own surveys says, “Ninety percent of people are happy with their government–and getting steadily more optimistic”.

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So close that your can feel the vibrations

Global changes are hitting hot and heavy. We are really in the thick of it.

While there is a chance that a nuclear world war 3 could occur, it is looking like the West hit a wall. China and Russia declared “checkmate”. And there is nothing the USA can do.

Every move it makes is a losing move.

The world is interconnected, to deny that is to risk economic destruction.

So what is going on is simple. If the USA plows ahead with a hard hot war, the systems in place will zero out all banks, and the Untied States, without resources, or much in the way of assets, will flounder and then try to tread water, but eventually it will sink down into the depths and drown. It’s over.

So relax.

Sure, there’s a chance in foolhardy actions, but I have faith in the American military. Not in the American “leadership”. All will be well.

Be prudent. Follow the aforementioned guidelines, but please stay optimistic. All is good.

In March 2023.

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main qimg 02fb6165b91a30f51b633d3b4012c8e5

1. Saudi Arabia and China to build refinery for 83.7 billion Chinese Yuan ($12.2 billion)

2. China and France complete first LNG trade using RMB

3. Russia considers using Chinese Yuan as reserve currency.

4. China and Brazil agree to use Chinese Yuan to settle trade rather than US dollars

5. Saudi Arabia considers accepting Chinese Yuan for oil sales

6. Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa (BRICS) announced development of a new currency

7. President of Kenya tells citizens to get rid of US dollars.

8. India says they will settle trade in Indian rupees with certain countries rather than US dollars

9. Chinese yuan passes Euro to become Brazil’s second-largest currency in foreign reserves

10. IMF data shows that Russia now has ~33% of all reverses in Chinese Yuan

11. China and Russia agreed to use the Chinese Yuan as a settlement currency

12. Over $225 billion has been withdrawn from US banks in just 2 weeks.

U.S. calls for joint G-7 action to prevent China’s economic bullying – Nikkei Asia

The trouble for US is that G7 is nothing to China economically and militarily. It’s “small potatoes”.

U.S. calls for joint G-7 action to prevent China’s economic bullying – Nikkei Asia

Article HERE

SMIC’s revenue grew 33.6 per cent year on year to US$7.2 billion in 2022, while net profits reached US$1.8 billion, both record amounts

R&D spending equaled 10.1 per cent of total revenue, down for a third year from 11.7 per cent and 17.3 per cent in 2021 and 2020, respectively

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2023 04 02 19 38

China’s top chip foundry Semiconductor Manufacturing International Corp (SMIC), which has been on a US trade blacklist for more than two years, said it posted record revenue and profits for 2022, thanks to strong demand for legacy chips in the world’s second-largest economy.

In 2022, the second full year the Shanghai-based company was restricted from importing key chip-making tools, SMIC saw its revenue grow 33.6 per cent year on year to US$7.2 billion, while net profits attributable to shareholders reached US$1.8 billion, both record amounts, according to its annual report released on Tuesday.

Its gross profit margin, a key indicator of profitability, reached 38 per cent last year, up from 30.8 per cent in 2021.

SMIC said it derived 74 per cent of its total 2022 revenue from China, up four percentage points compared to 2021, adding that the production capacity of its domestic fabs is still short of market demand, while its technology level lags behind global peers.

SMIC reportedly reached a technology breakthrough last year, producing a cryptocurrency mining chip at the 7-nanometre process node, without the need for cutting-edge extreme ultraviolet lithography machines from Dutch firm ASML. SMIC has never publicly commented on the reported breakthrough.

In its latest annual report, the foundry offered some technology insights, but stopped short of revealing details of its tech prowess, which is closely watched by analysts. FinFet technology, a type of 3D transistor that enables process nodes below 20-nm, was listed among its offerings, but the company did not disclose details of the process nodes it has achieved.

SMIC is the only foundry in China with 14-nm production capability.

As Finland Enters NATO, Revelations that NATO Nukes COULD Be put on Russia Border

In a move that could risk infuriating Russia, or turning Finland into another Ukraine, nuclear weapons could be positioned in Finland if the country’s application to join NATO is approved, according to a report from a Finnish newspaper.

Both Finland and Sweden submitted applications to join NATO in May, in response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine. According to the Helsinki-based newspaper Iltalehti, the bill regarding potential NATO membership the Finnish government will put before parliament doesn’t include any opt-outs for nuclear weapons.

Speaking to the paper, defense sources said Finland’s foreign and defense ministers, Pekka Haavisto and Antti Kaikkonen, gave a “commitment” to NATO in July that they wouldn’t seek “restrictions or national reservations” if Helsinki’s application is accepted.

Foreign policy insiders told Iltalehti this means NATO nuclear weapons could transit through, or be based on, Finnish territory. Additionally, there are no restrictions on establishing NATO bases in the country.

Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin told Yle, the country’s national broadcasting company, on Saturday why she had not ruled out accepting nuclear weapons on Finnish territory when applying to NATO.

“I’ve considered it very important that we don’t set these kinds of preconditions, or limit our own room for maneuvering, when it comes to permanent bases or nuclear weapons,” Marin said, although she added it was unlikely that nuclear weapons would be stationed on Finnish soil.

The U.S. already has around 100 nuclear weapons in Europe, positioned in Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and Turkey according to the Federation of American Scientists.

Substack is the new Atlantic, New Yorker, Sunday Times

Godfree Roberts

If you write about anything, this is for you.

I write wonky, non-fiction books about China and publish an even wonkier newsletter for central bankers interested in Chinese governance.

It’s a niche market, you could say but though I specialize obsessively in an unfashionable topic, I have longed for popular recognition as much as any writer. Then a publisher friend to whom I complained suggested Substack. Distribution was free, he said, the interface simple, publishing takes seconds and, he added encouragingly, “Nobody reads your stuff anyway, so what have you got to lose?”.

I spent thousands looking for that audience on Google, Amazon and Facebook and none was cost-effective. But when I put my ravings on Substack, lots of people found them and even sent me money.

Substack is the most accessible, affordable medium for finding and creating an audience for non-fiction writers. If you write, write. Let Substack find your audience because it’s really good at that. Focus on your writing and, eventually, Substack will start pay you for the privilege of representing you.

Such a deal.

I think this is mostly happening without the knowledge of Americans. Literally, American and British news must be the shittiest news products on the entire planet. Saudi Arabia killed the petrodollar, the arrangement where oil contracts are settled in US dollars.

China just made an LNG deal with the UAE that will be settled in Yuans.

At least half of the business between Russia and China is now settled in Yuans.

Brazil and China just made a deal to settle trade in currency other than the US dollar.

When that happens, the dollars that are sitting reserve will be freed up and come back to where they can buy products and services, the United States and the broader West. US dollars will be concentrated in the West and will drive up inflation. Furthermore, as the US dollar loses reserve currency status, it will be much harder for the US to finance its massive debt. The Ukraine War will end the US dollars 77-year run as the world’s reserve currency. The BRICS Plus countries will have a larger economy than the West in a decade or so. In another answer to this question, someone else pointed out that even non-BRICS countries are ditching the US dollar as a reserve currency. Joe Biden huffed and puffed and blustered and blew down the American financial system.

US new shows are trying to tell Americans that China cannot produce computer chips without Taiwan in the foreseeable future. This is complete bullcrap, but Americans believe the US new shows that got Ukraine completely wrong. Americans believe new shows that couldn’t predict the economy yesterday.

Footnotes

The USA is left out…

India, Malaysia move beyond dollar to settle trade in INR – The Hindu. No longer will trade be conducted in the United States Dollar.

Article HERE

US Sanctions Belarus

Lukashenko’s aircraft, a Boeing 737 that he uses for international travel, was also designated for sanctions, which blocks its use in the U.S. Hum. I wonder how attractive these actions make for American-made products…?

Article HERE

The US Chips and Science Act

By now it’s clear that the Chips and Science Act — which includes a $52 billion splurge for the semiconductor industry — is unlikely to work as intended. In fact, its looming failure is a microcosm of all that’s wrong with America’s current approach to building things.

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2023 04 02 06 50

Passed last year with bipartisan support, the law was meant to revive US chipmaking capacity. Although America is a world leader in cutting-edge chip design, its share of global semiconductor manufacturing has declined from 37% in 1990 to about 12% Given the importance of such chips to the economy and especially to national security — the Defense Department needs about 1.9 billion of them a year — a more or less coherent case could be made for subsidies, prudently applied.

Yet simply writing checks was never going to be enough. Producing chips in the US still takes 25% longer and costs nearly 50% more than doing so in Asia. Significant policy changes would be needed for US-based manufacturers to be even remotely competitive. As things stand, they face three serious impediments — all inflicted by the government.

Chief among them is red tape. From 1990 to 2020, the time required to construct new chip plants (called fabs) in the US soared by 38%.

Clean Air Act permits can take 18 months. National Environmental Policy Act reviews take an average of four and a half years. A half dozen other federal laws may come into play, plus endless state and local variants. At every step, myriad agencies must be consulted and parochial interests must be heard.

Yet technology does not stand still for these bureaucratic tea parties; such delays only add expenses, discourage private investment, and prevent US manufacturers from seriously competing with overseas rivals.

Baked Ham in Foil

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2023 04 01 09 11

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 (3- to 4-pound precooked boneless ham

Instructions

  1. Pour cup water into slow cooker.
  2. Wrap precooked boneless ham in foil; put into slow cooker.
  3. Cover, and cook on HIGH for 1 hour, then on LOW for 6 to 7 hours or until ham is hot.

Vietnam

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2023 04 01 20 03

The First Dinosaur Tail Discovered Is Preserved In Amber, 99 Million Years Old And Covered In Feathers

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A dinosaur tail with beautifully preserved feathers still attached to the bone has been found preserved in amber, and it’s one of the coolest things we’ve ever seen. It’s not the first time feathers have been found trapped in amber, but it is the first time that researchers have been able to definitively link them to a dinosaur. The discovery will provide invaluable insight into how dinosaurs’ feathers looked and evolved – something we’ve never been able to learn from fossils.

More info: Sciense (h/t: messynessychic)

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Brutan

Problems Brutan faces:
1) Brutan is a land lock country reliance on India to access the rest of the world.

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2023 04 02 19 24

2) geographically, they can only access (import/export /car/train) via India. So, India control Brutan economy, and they have to endure bullying from India.
3) brutan problem is like Nepal.
4) But, with the upgrade of the Chinese infrastructure building ability, the first road and bridges link between Nepal and China successfully completed through very difficult terrain, and hence Nepal no longer exclusively reliance on India to access the world , so in the past years, there are on going news of Nepal soldiers shooting at intruding Indian soldiers.
5) so, now, like Nepal, brutan working with China to access the world via infrastructure link to China
Indian influence collapsed once the project completed.

 

https://youtu.be/wrVbr76pCxg

“Facing Clear Evidence of Peril” in a Country of Lies

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Perhaps silence is the best response to the endless cavalcade of official lies that is United States history. The Internet and digital technology have allowed those lies to increase exponentially in number and frequency with the result that people’s minds have become like 7-Eleven stores, open 24/7 for snack-crap “news.”

But once you become conscious that it’s lies night and day, it sets your head aswirl and plunges your soul into depths of despair. You are tempted to retreat from such knowledge and talk of trees and trivia. But you are ashamed of your country. It’s hard to laugh. You feel you are drowning. You flounder and gasp for air. You look around and wonder why most people are able to go their merry ways believing the lies and whistling in the dark. Junk news nation, indeed.

Yes, there are alternative voices who tell the truth, but their audiences and monetary support are very small or non-existent compared to the corporate mainstream media and those who shout and scream across the Internet as they take in a lot of money from naive followers. The recent revelations about Alex Jones’s wealth probably don’t bother his diehard fans, but they should. Likewise, the funding sources for websites and writers of various persuasions are important to know, for they reveal possible biases in their work. Snake oil salesmen are commonplace, and there are many naive customers lining up for their wares.

Wealth and power are the main drivers of the media chicanery that has captured so many minds. Writers, of course, should be fairly paid for their work, but in this Internet age, most are not. As with the movies and book publishing, the income gap between the big names – the celebrity stars – and less well-known writers, even if their work is excellent, is huge.

Some sites and writers make a lot of money, but who they are is a guessing game. No one’s talking. Some regularly tell their readers that if they don’t receive enough contributions, they will be unable to continue to write or publish, even when the sites do not pay their contributors. Whether this is good marketing or income-by-threat is up for grabs. Whichever it is, it seems to work, as far as I can tell, for these writers and websites don’t disappear.

Money is the dirty secret of all news and commentary. To paraphrase someone: It is very difficult to get truth from writers whose income is dependent on pleasing those who fund them.

You may have noticed how many former military officers, CIA agents, mainstream journalists, pharmaceutical company executives, and sundry other government and corporate bigwigs appear in the mainstream and alternative media to support or oppose government policies. The mainstream ones doing the propaganda they always did, while the alternative ones appear as converts to the dissident faith. No one ever explains how and by whom these people are financed or how their lucrative pensions affect their consciences. “Former” is a funny word. Ha Ha Ha.

Confidence “men” come in all shapes and sizes with no one talking money.

So let me fess up. I received about $200 in support last year for edwardcurtin.com, my website. Nothing before that and not a cent over the last 5-6 years for many hundreds of articles that have appeared very widely across the Internet. Before the Internet, publications paid for work, mine and others. Not now, at least for me. How much money writers are receiving, and who is supporting their sites, is a taboo subject.

So I am thinking about selling mugs at my site with my name and mug shot on them and a line of supplements that will increase one’s testosterone and estrogen in equal measure to make sure no one takes offense in this era of delicate feelings. Ha Ha Ha. Yes, the joke is on us. I identify as a man since I am one. Don’t be offended.

Jokes aside, as Leonard Cohen sang:

“Oh, like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free”

If you are stubborn enough and have the good fortune to find inspiration from those brave dissidents who have gone before us and those who continue to lead us on, you realize silence is betrayal and that you must speak, even if all seems hopeless at times. Even when no one is paying you, or maybe more accurately, because no one is paying you. Even though it is hopeless, even though it isn’t. This is another secret. There are many.

It’s been twenty years since the U.S. brutally invaded Iraq. When George W. Bush, at a staged pseudo-event in Cincinnati on October 7, 2002, as he set Americans up for the invasion of Iraq in March 2003, said, “Facing clear evidence of peril, we cannot wait for the final proof, the smoking gun, that could come in the form of a mushroom cloud,” no one laughed him out of the house. His claim was simply an evil joke that was reported as truth. It was all predictable, blatant deception. And the media played along with such an absurdity, which is their job and what they always do. I pointed it out at the time in a newspaper column, but who listened to a hick writer in a regional newspaper.

Iraq obviously had no nuclear weapons or the slightest capability to deliver even a firecracker on the U.S. But the mainstream media, Senator Joe Biden, politicians galore, celebrities like Oprah Winfrey with her guest, the eventually disgraced Judith Miller of the New York Times, the despicable Tony Blair, et al., all supported Bush’s blatant lies. Soon Colin Powell, the “hero” of George H. W. Bush’s 1991 made-for-TV Gulf War of aggression against Iraq, would do his Pinocchio act at the United Nations and the U.S. military was off to get Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden’s evil twin, both the latest Hitlers until Vladimir Putin replaced them. I guess I skipped some others such as Muammar Gaddafi and Bashar Al-Assad. New Hitlers proliferate so fast it’s hard to keep track of them. Ha Ha Ha. The joke is on us.

As everyone knows, or should, more than a million Iraqis died because of George W. Bush, but how many cared? How many cared when once Bush was gone, Barack Obama, aided and abetted by the cackling Hilary Clinton, destroyed Libya and ignited the war against Syria? You want examples? There are too many to name here. But let it be said these lies span all American administrations, whether it’s Bill Clinton continuously bombing Iraq and Serbia through Trump bombing Syria and Somalia, up to the present day with Biden attacking Russia via Ukraine, etc. All these presidents are liars, but their followers treat them otherwise. Biden says Jimmy Carter asked him to deliver his eulogy. What does that tell you? Shall we laugh? Sing?

On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen
Shall we laugh?
Shall we laugh?
Shall we laugh?

Shall we laugh harder if I mention the Covid-19 propaganda and all those writers who have failed to even address it, as they have failed to question 9/11 and other obvious official lies? Is it not evident that if they did so, their money flows might dry up? Here and no further is a widespread rule, for they must adhere to the boundaries imposed by “responsible thought” and the “no go” zones with which they tie their own hands in order to keep their wallets full.

If you are lucky, as I was, when you are young you discover how fearful of free thought and how corrupt our institutional authorities are. You don’t spend decades feasting off the spoils of those institutions only to “wake up” once you have made your name and secured your fortune, which seems to be the way of so many wise luminaries of the Internet Age who are either trying to ease their consciences as they get ready to kick the bucket or are perhaps putting us on.

When I was twenty-four years-old, I accepted my first teaching job at a small Catholic college where I taught theology. I had been trained in the latest and best scholarly work of the most renown international theologians. Rather than indoctrinating my students with rote learning, I taught them to read widely and think deeply in the tradition of a liberal arts education. To seek out the best scholarship.

But doing so became quickly apparent to the college and Church authorities who were stuck in the inquisitorial age of obedience or else and no thinking allowed. Although my students loved my courses and felt freed up for the first time to think about their spiritual lives, I was hounded to correct my heretical teaching, which of course I refused to do.

At one point when I was at lunch in the cafeteria, a nun who was a professor, stole my brief case with my notes and left the cafeteria. One of my students saw her do this and chased her into the ladies’ room where the nun hid in a stall. The nun kept flushing the toilet to scare the student away, but the student wouldn’t let her out until she returned the briefcase. Ha Ha Ha. It sounds funny to recount but was an example of my experience at this college. Someone vandalized my office door and ripped down anti-war posters that were on it. I was gone from that college soon thereafter. It taught me a lot. Obey or else.

Heresy: The Latin word is from Greek hairesis, a taking or choosing for oneself, a choice.

At another teaching job a year or so later, I had a more chilling experience. I was known as an anti-war activist, a conscientious objector from the Marines, etc., and one day, a late Friday afternoon when few were around, an administrator asked to meet me on a deserted stairwell where he proceeded in hushed tones to try to convince me to join him in Army Intelligence to spy on others. He said I would be perfect for the job since I was known as an anti-war dissident. I told him to fuck off, but I was shocked by his double life and his request.

I have since learned that this guy the spy was not an anomaly, for government confidence men are widespread.

I’ve had many other such early experiences for which I am very grateful, even though when I was fired from jobs and lost income it was traumatic at the time. By my thirtieth year, I knew the system was corrupt to its core and subsequent experience has only ratified that conclusion. I got the joke.

I recount these incidents not because my experiences are singular and I’m special, for others have suffered the same youthful fate. But such good fortune can fortify you for life or break your spirit. If the former, you don’t wait to retire to push back against all the lies or regret your past. You find that it’s all good and life has set you on the heretic’s path of freedom and choice. You realize that what you went through is absolutely nothing compared to people around the world who have and continue to suffer at the hands of the U.S. military industrial complex. You realize your experiences are trivial in the larger scope of things and that your government’s conduct is beyond condemnation. It is an abomination. You feel ashamed to live in a land where killing is a game.

The sociologist Peter Berger puts it well in his little classic, Invitation to Sociology, when he discusses experiences that lead to seeing through the play-acting nature of social life:

Experiences such as these may lead to a sudden reversal in one’s view of society – from an awe-inspiring vision of an edifice made of massive granite to the picture of a toy-house precariously put together with papier mâché. While such metamorphosis may be disturbing to people who have hitherto had great confidence in the stability and rightness of society, it can also have a very liberating effect on those more inclined to look upon the latter as a giant sitting on top of them, and not necessarily a friendly giant at that. It is reassuring to discover that the giant is afflicted with a nervous tick.

Notice the giant George W. Bush’s clicking eyes as he delivers his “facing clear evidence of peril” lies for the invasion of Iraq. He and his presidential good friends are cardboard cartoon characters whose eyes reveal their evil intentions. “It’s a Barnum and Bailey world/Just as phony as it can be,” but it would all fall to pieces if it weren’t for you and me failing to see through all the bad actors, not just presidents but the whole cast of characters that populate the Spectacle of news and opinion.

The Russians are coming! Ha Ha Ha. Yes, Oliver, the joke’s on us.

But it’s not really funny, except in the most sardonic and dark way, for we now do really face clear evidence of peril as a result of Biden and his crazy predecessors who have run U.S. foreign policy for so long. They have brought us to the edge of nuclear war with Russia by surrounding Russia with NATO bases and nuclear weapons, while doing the same to China.

POISONING OF **OUR FOOD** BEGINS THIS MONTH – mRNA Going into Cows and Pigs

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The food supply of every American is going to start being INTENTIONALLY POISONED with mRNA genetic modifications being fraudulently called “vaccines.”

Lobbyists for the cattleman and pork associations in several states have CONFIRMED they WILL be using mRNA vaccines in pigs and cows THIS MONTH.   It will actually become “vaccine food” and sold to YOU without your INFORMED CONSENT.

Buying and eating this beef or this pork may adversely affect you.  In some cases, it may KILL you.

Attorney Tom Renz says “To be clear – at this point there are zero states requiring informed consent for “vaccine food”. While I would argue that it must be done under existing law . . .”

 

 

Renz goes on to point out, there is an article from the year 2000 about “edible vaccines”: (Article HERE)  The article demonstrates how hiding a “vaccine” in foods, is absorbed into the body:

EdibleVaxGraphic
EdibleVaxGraphic

The trouble with this particular circumstance is that, to this day, no manufacturer of an mRNA vaccine, has fully disclosed the medically-active contents of the so-called “COVID “vaccines.” Moreover, tens-of-thousands of people have already DIED after receiving these so-called “vaccines” and hundreds-of-thousands of other people have become very sick or permanently injured from them.

NOW, if you were one of the smart people (like me) who DID NOT take those COVID (death dart) jabs, we will be intentionally POISONED with the mRNA because they’re putting it in our food without our informed consent.

Lawsuits will be too late.  We’ll already be poisoned and dying.   The public is reminded that “immunity” only works in court.  It offers no protection to the people doing this, from street justice.

Forcibly stopping someone who is trying to poison you is legal self defense.

Budweiser Suicides “Bud Light” with new Trans Spokesperson

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BudLightTranny 2 large
BudLightTranny 2 large

Budweiser, “the King of Beers” appears to many people to have just committed “brand-suicide” for Bud Light, by bringing on a Trans as a spokesperson.  You can watch the suicide video below.

Why is this Brand suicide you ask?   Well, think about it: Now, every time a guy is seen holding a Bud Light, everyone’s going to think he’s a homo.  And everytime a girl is seen holding a bug Light, everyone will wonder if she’s _really_ a girl.  Result . . . . probable brand suicide.

Don’t fret, guys.   While we say R.I.P. to Bud Light, we can also say Hi to . . . .

2023 04 02 19 35
2023 04 02 19 35

Corona girl!

Cranberry Pork Chops

2023 04 02 19 30
2023 04 02 19 30

Ingredients

  • 6 bone-in pork loin chops
  • 1 (16 ounce) can jellied cranberry sauce
  • 1/2 cup cranberry or apple juice
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons spicy brown mustard
  • 2 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1/4 cup cold water
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • Dash of pepper

Instructions

  1. Place pork chops in a slow cooker.
  2. Combine cranberry sauce, juice, sugar and mustard until smooth; pour over chops.
  3. Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours or until meat is tender.
  4. Remove chops; keep warm.
  5. In a saucepan, combine cornstarch and cold water until smooth; gradually stir in cooking juices. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened.
  6. Stir in salt and pepper.
  7. Serve over chops.

Elon Musk Sounds the Alarm About the U.S. Dollar

The billionaire global CEO worries about the loss of the greenback’s influence which he attributes to the Biden administration’s foreign policy.
LUC OLINGAMAR 30, 2023 6:15 PM EDT

Elon Musk has become something of a watchdog over the actions of the U.S. government on the international stage.

The tech mogul gained influence in geopolitics by providing Starlink to Ukraine in the war with Russia. Starlink is an independent satellite internet service, developed by Musk's rocket company SpaceX. This service allows the Ukrainian Armed Forces to maintain secure communications on the front lines and Ukrainian civilians to stay in touch with the world.

This invaluable assistance to a country struggling for its independence has made the CEO of Tesla (TSLA) - Get Free Report one of the most powerful voices around the world on pressing issues facing the planet.

In recent weeks, the tech mogul has turned into a real headache for the Biden administration, which has reiterated its support for Ukraine in the war against Russia. This conflict, which has entered its second year, has still no end in sight. Musk advocates a peace solution that involves making concessions to Russia, which Ukraine and its allies categorically refuse.

Is the Dollar Losing Its Reserve Currency Status?

Washington and its European allies have thus tightened the sanctions against Russia. But the absence of an exit strategy from the Russian war has launched the debate about the American support for Ukraine via NATO. Critics blame the Biden administration for its tough line on Kremlin.

This debate is fueled by Musk and his friends who believe that the absence of a peaceful solution to end the Russia-Ukraine war has dealt a huge blow to American diplomacy and to the United States' place in the world. 

They say that evidence of this is the rapprochement between China and Russia, two of the main enemies of the United States. They argue that adopting a hard line toward Russia has undermined America's international and geopolitical standing and prestige.

Musk considers, for example, that U.S. diplomats have become warmongers, which has brought America's enemies closer together. One of the victims of this rapprochement could be the dollar, symbol of the economic power of the United States.

He has just issued an alert to warn that the dollar could lose its role as the world's reserve currency. The warning was issued in a thread on Twitter.

"The US dollar is losing its reserve currency status," Genevieve Roch-Decter, CFA, a former small cap money manager, wrote on Twitter on Mar. 29, adding in another tweet that the U.S. dollar "has been the backbone of the global economy for decades. Several countries even use the US Dollar as an official currency, like El Salvador, Panama, and Ecuador."

Musk shares these concerns.

"Serious issue," the billionaire warned. "US policy has been too heavy-handed, making countries want to ditch the dollar."

In addition to foreign policy, Musk also attributes the weakening of the dollar to the federal government's fiscal policy.

"Combined with excess government spending, which forces other countries to absorb a significant part of our inflation," he added.

Russia and Saudi Arabia

The dollar is considered the reserve currency of central banks. This means that various national central banks, which hold reserves in foreign currencies, do so mainly in U.S. dollars.

This allows the United States not to have to hold foreign exchange reserves in currencies of other countries, and especially helps to finance the deficit of its balance of payments. This status of the dollar dates back to the end of the Second World War and symbolizes the power of the US on the global stage.

Central banks around the world hold approximately 60 percent of their foreign exchange reserves in U.S. dollars. Nearly half of international trade, loans and global debt securities are transacted in dollars. But the sanctions imposed on Russia, as a result of the war with Ukraine, have helped to encourage efforts to "de-dollarize" global trade, some experts say.

Russia is looking at the yuan to replace the dollar, and Saudi Arabia may follow, Fox News has reported.

For Musk, if we get there, it is because American diplomacy lost its standing during the Russia-Ukraine war.

BY LUC OLINGA
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Article HERE

Meet Mebaru, the Japanese Felt Artist Taking Instagram by Storm with Adorable Felted Cat Sculptures

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Mebaru is an artist who has gained a huge following on Instagram thanks to their incredibly realistic felted cat sculptures.

From playful poses to intricate depictions of specific breeds, these felted creations are sure to steal your heart. We invite you to take a look at these cute and realistic felted cats and get lost in the world of Mebaru’s creations.

More: Instagram h/t: boredpanda

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Hi.
I am an Australian who is married to an American and, due to the nature of my work, lived ALL OVER the US over a decade.

Half my family are American and many of my closest friends.
In short, I’m very fond of the United States and support my nation’s close affiliation with them.

So please forgive me if I’m blunt.
This is NOT an American bash, it’s an honest expression of the one thing that [SOME] Americans do that never fails to trigger me.

“We saved your asses in World War Two”.

Americans often tell us bluntly, over and over how they “saved our arses” in both World Wars.

I assure you, EVERY SINGLE Brit, Aussie, Kiwi or Canadian reading along can hear those words spoken in an American accent as they read them.

That’s how often we hear it.
Almost weekly.
Certainly once a month.

Wars that we ourselves stepped up and fought in the protection of others.
Wars that wouldn’t even have affected us directly.
Wars we fought for YEARS before the United States.

Australia, Canada, India and New Zealand particularly could have turned their backs on Western Europe.

Britain herself could have closed her borders and looked the other way.
Hitler had no designs on the UK – He admired them.
All they had to do was stand back and allow the holocaust to happen.

But of course, they couldn’t because fighting Nazi Germany was the right thing to do.

We didn’t make Britain wait 3.2 and 2.3 years to enter either great war.
We were there from day one.

We didn’t charge Britain for our goods or help.
We didn’t keep a tally and make them pay it back for seventy years.
We didn’t insist they realign their trade preferences to favour our markets setting their still very young colonies prematurely adrift or cost them their empire, wealth, dignity or preeminence as a world power.

We didn’t use Britain’s plight as a springboard for our own wealth and dominance or spend the following century diluting their culture with shallow consumerism.

CANZUK didn’t ask for anything.
We just went because we’re family and that’s what family does and despite what some of you are going to assert in the comments, yes, America, though you are the black sheep you are also family.

Speaking for Australia, from a population of six million (2/3 of which were women, children, the elderly and infirm), a full one million Australian men served in the military during the Second World war.

Let that sink in.

We had, from our far-flung nation gathered together the fourth-largest air force in the world and the fifth largest navy and lost so many men in every theater of both World Wars that we had a noticeable lack of them right into the late 1970s.
Indeed, by the time American boots had touched the ground in North Africa and Europe, CANZUK had already sacrificed literally millions of men.

It’s SO, rude.
I’m not even sure you understand just how disrespectful it is and how much damage it does [at street level] to our relationships with the US.
Honestly – it’s there in the pit of all our stomachs whenever we even engage with an American.

I will leave you with this quote from the memoirs of one of your own.
American journalist Ernie Pyle who was killed in action by the Japanese in April 1945.

His account of D-day and the liberation of Paris.

“One cannot help but be moved by the colossus of our invasion. It was a bold and mighty thing. One of the epics of all history. I hope that we can rejoice in victory but humbly. The dead men would not want us to gloat.”

Peace.

Dedicated to the memories of our grandfathers.
Those that never came home and those that came home altered.
Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Britain and the United States.

Bhutan

First, a disclaimer: I’m not a Bhutan expert.
.
The China-Bhutan border agreement hasn't happened yet, but it does seem to be imminent. I'm just commenting right off my memory, which is as good as it gets. You can probably wiki and find a lot more details. China had long ago reached a treaty with Bhutan by an exchange of land. But India intervened at the last minute, forced Bhutan to overturn everything and start all over. Given that China ended up having to renegotiate its Bhutan border treaty with India, nothing happened ever since then. India has been perfectly happy keeping its soldiers in Bhutan, and keeping Bhutan a poor, undeveloped landlocked country completely dependent on India. I can understand how a lot of the people living in the "Land of Happiness" feel like they're trapped in the lowest level of Naraka.

When the Doklam brouhaha between China and India broke out, it was over the unsettled area between China and Bhutan. Theoretically, it had nothing to do with India, except that India had soldiers stationed in Bhutan, and was supposed to defend Bhutan. In any case, Bhutan never asked India to defend itself against China. This fact was never mentioned in any Western press, forget about the Indian press. Finally, Bhutan let the cat out of the bag, and India, somehow, thinks that they have been stabbed in the back. I remember at the time of the Doklam standoff, I checked out Bhutanese comments from various social platforms. Most of them had very little positive things to say about India. It looked hopeful at the time that Bhutan would soon become Nepal 2.0.

I don't usually follow Bhutan news. In any case, there are precious few channels talking about them. But I do follow a lot of India news channels (like a good detective, you can learn a lot from people's garbage), and there has been an outcry of India having been betrayed by Bhutan. It seems that after decades of nothing happening with the border treaty and wasting a lot of time with India in the way, China finally told Bhutan that if this mountain nation did not have authority to negotiate its own border treaty, then the two parties should just walk away, at least until such times when Bhutan is confident that it can decide its own sovereign issues. 

Bhutan is not stupid. They notice how things have been changing for Nepal. They don't want to be dead in the stagnant waters of India. They want to be connected to the world through China. As such China and Bhutan have been working steadily toward a common goal despite India. In January of this year, a Bhutanese delegation met with a Chinese delegation in Kunming to push forward the settlement of the China-Bhutan border. India was not invited. Needless to say, the Indians, acting like an overbearing overlord demanded to know the details of the meeting. This was expected, and confidential information would not be divulged. The roadmap likely included contingencies relating to how India would react. It may also include how Bhutan may allay India's fears, at the same time, gaining more concessions from Modi. 

It appears at this point that the China-Bhutan border settlement is a fait accompli. It's too late for India to interfere. The train has left the station and the ship has set sail. How do I know? By the Bhutanese letting the cat out of the bag. They made a mistake many years ago. They are not going to make it again unless they are very certain it's going to happen. So, very soon, China and Bhutan will establish diplomatic relations. There will be airports, highways, dams, 5G, Internet and tourists. Most importantly, at the right moment, Indian soldiers will be politely asked to leave quietly. 

At the end of the day, China does want to settle its border with India. Maybe it will help the Indians come to their senses.

PM 

This is something that AMERICANS need to UNDERSTAND. TikTok is only an EXCUSE to pass thru Orwellian legislation to control the type of information that Americans received so that they do NOT have access to alternate information other than the narrative that the state want them to believe AND to spy on them.

The legislation, Bill S686, is also known as the Restrict Bill. Here are the key points behind that legislation:

  • CURRENT foreign adversaries – America’s favourite bogeymen – which can CHANGE by definition are China, Cuba, Korea Iran, Russian Federation. More importantly, these definition can CHANGE at ANYTIME.
  • It covers hardware technologies such as modems, routers, cameras and virtual techs such as VPN if they are manufacture or use to contact “foreign adversaries”
  • Using VPN to bypass banned apps such as TikTok is made a CRIMINAL act under this bill with MINIMUM imprisonment of 20 years AND a minimum fine of $250,000 AND up to one million dollars if you knowingly do so.
  • It gives the federal government the authority to monitor any activity virtual or otherwise. Essentially they can monitor you 24/7 thru your routers, video games, smartphones, thermostat, cameras, etc.
  • EVEN more TERRIFYING, this will happen when the President appoint a Secretary of Communication who formed a group on their own without any voter input or oversight whatever, can meet behind closed doors and they can ban or monitor anything deemed inappropriate to security that goes thru the internet.

LET there be NO AMBIGUITY, this legislation is designed to control the information that Americans read and hear so that THEY can be EASILY MANIPULATED AND also designed to spy on Americans. Yes, the law also allows the state to spy on your teen or preteen daughters NAKED or in various stages of undress.

THAT Americans, deliberately bombarded by Messages of Hate, are NOW being HERDED towards war with China

EXCEPT that the United States will be fighting a war with against a powerful BRI Eurasian Alliance

IN a war that the United States will not win and will be defeated

CONSUMED by hate which devour their humanity, they will turn to the only thing they have left…..their nuclear weapons

IN their ATTEMPT to take the world down with them into the depth of the abyss

IN this world, in a country big and small, Haven is now preparing its favourite son to meet the challenges of the end of time AND the Force of Darkness.

VPN Users Risk 20-Year Jail Sentences in the US Under New RESTRICT Act

A bill dubbed the 'RESTRICT' act was submitted to Congress and could have severe consequences for VPN users in the United States.

Cajun Sausage Jambalaya

A slow cooker makes Cajun Sausage Jambalaya a snap. Be sure to check the last hour or two to keep the rice from overcooking.

2023 04 01 09 12
2023 04 01 09 12

Prep: 30 min | Cook: 6 hr | Yield: 8 servings (12 cups)

Ingredients

  • 1 pound boneless pork loin roast, cut into 1/2 inch cubes, lean
  • 12 ounces andouille sausage, cut into 1/4 inch slices
  • 2 1/2 cups water
  • 1 1/2 cups rice, medium-grain white
  • 2 yellow onions, chopped
  • 1 bell pepper (green, red, or both), chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/2 cup green onions, chopped

Instructions

  1. Mix all ingredients except green onions in slow 4 to 6 quart slow cooker. Cover and cook on LOW for 5 to 6 hours, or on HIGH for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Watch carefully during the last 1 hour (LOW) or 1/2 hour (HIGH) of cooking to prevent rice from overcooking.
  2. Just before serving, check seasoning and add green onions.

The A-10 was not designed to be used in uncontested airspace, but it was designed for a time when people were more realistic about losses in war than they are now. The A-10 fleet was expected to be expendable planes thrown in to stop Soviet armored columns, but it was perfectly understood many would not survive that.

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main qimg 735564d8aa0773639ae04f9842f2ccc0

The A-10 were apparently expected by some in the US air force to face an attrition rate of 7% per 100 sorties. And would be expected to do 250 sorties in a day for the fleet in Europe. So within the first 24 hours of a conflict in the 1980s, the US expected over 15% of all A-10s in the theater to be lost.

Considering what was known and how they intended to use them, I would say that was a fairly conservative estimation. Soviet forces were littered with organic AA, and when the A-10 was made the BUK and S-300 missile systems were not really understood yet. The biggest fear was the OSA missile system with a 15km range. With the A-10 expected to visually see targets to engage them, this would be fairly difficult, especially using it’s gun, which is effective at about 1½ km. The original S-300 had ranges of 47–90km depending on variant, but this wasn’t known in the west at the time.

Either way, it was fully expected the A-10s would suffer enormous losses, but was still considered a valuable asset for attempting to disrupt and delay Soviet columns.

21 Life Lessons From Cats

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There’s a lot us, humans, can learn from our feline friends. 21 examples below from New York Times bestselling authors & illustrators Lisa Swerling & Ralph Lazar, who have just launched a new cats project called Tess & Lion.

h/t: boredpanda

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Kamala Harris in Africa to strengthen US diplomatic ties | DW News

By Dimbwe Maxala from Utube comments

I am from one of the countries on her tour.

I am not sure how the Ghanaians feel about this, but I can safely speak on behalf of Zambia and Tanzania, and say that they US is wasting its time. To get a better understanding of this, perhaps Kamala should travel from Dar Es Salaam to Lusaka Zambia, on the 1600km (1000 mile) railway line that the Chinese built ( and ceded free of charge) for the two countries.

The impetus for the construction of that railway line was that Zambia needed an outlet to the ocean, after the racist white regimes then ruling Rhodesia and South African decided to close off its access to the ocean because of its support for the liberation movements in those countries.

The Chinese who were then as poor as Africans stepped in and built the TAZARA railway line, which lifted that seige of Zambia, allowing the country to export its copper via Dar Es Salaam, rather than the ports of South Africa, as had always been the case.

The Chinese were there, as were the Russians, during the dark time.

Time after time, the US took the side of the racists.

When the negotiations for Zimbabwe’s independence were held in London in 1979, the US and the UK stood together with the brutal white settler regime of Ian Smith.

When the war for Namibia’s independence was going on, the US supported the continued apartheid South African occupation of the country, and blocking the implementation of UN resolution 435, that demanded that the South Africans leave Namibia.

Ronald Reagan insisted on a linkage of the white South African exist from both Namibia and Angola, with the leaving of the Cubans then militarily fighting against South Africa together with government of Angola.

People in Southern African have never forgotten their experience with the West, and Kamala Harris’ charm offensive is unlikely to achieve anything.

In western countries it merely matters to be SEEN as the good guy.

Your actions count a whole lot less.

In Asian countries what you DO matters.

Look at the Iraq genocide, they still think they’re the GOOD guys after mass murdering 10000s of Iraqis and Afghans. Because we meant well! It was a mistake so that totally absolves us!

Oh quite the Opposite

All of China will thank him for it one day

Private Tutoring Industry was becoming way out of control.

Initially Tutoring was a boon, it helped Chinese students understand concepts pretty well

However as time went by Tutoring slowly became more and more deeply seated into the Chinese Education structure and every student began to lazily depend on Tutoring which meant Private Tutors could demand more money

With time it became almost like without private tutoring no Urban Chinese student could survive or do without

And slowly Private Tutorial Groups began to rise in value, start IPOs, bloat up without any assets and claim to be worth billions.


Is that a Golden Goose?

Please tell me how many Students do you know in US who go to SAT Coaching or GRE Coaching?

Most Students self study or study in Groups rather than pay for a Tutorial course

Yet in China – students using Private Tutorials rose to nearly 88% by 2019.

They used Tutors for everything and the basic concept understanding that created the Excellent Chinese Students of the 1990s -2010s would slowly be eroded if this nonsense had continued

Spoonfeeding at its worst

And on top of this Most Tutorials became Industries of their own and began marketing and began to ridiculously boost their own valuations


No!!! said Xi Jingping

He had many discussions with Respected Professors and Teachers and fundamentally covered the three Points in 2020 May which included

→ Private Tutorials cannot replace conventional education

→ Students ability to think and learn on their own are being affected by Private Tutorials

→ Private Tutorials are grossly inflated and taking full advantage of the Lax focus paid to them in the early 2005–2010

So the CPC said – Let Students who dont understand use Tutors and Tutorials but let Students not become lazy

Thus he decided to formulate and regulate the industry

It was a Brilliant Move

Those who wanted to become Billionaires with Tutoring – scrambled

Those who made good money and genuinely impacted Students to think – stayed and continued to nurture and build more students


Even Today Private Tutoring Exists

Only thing is – the Industry is regulated

Ceiling on Valuation, Mandatory insistence on Registration of Tutors, Syllabus being overseen by the CPC Education Committee to ensure Students can still think and learn on their own, No IPO allowed until 2032, Minimum 15 years for a Tutoring Company, Valuation based on Asset Valuation not Speculative Valuation, No Overseas investment in Private Tution Companies

The Result – The Sharks are GONE or going really fast.

Genuine Tutors and Tutorials are very much here to stay and help students especially weaker ones while also ensuring future students learn on their own and dont get spoonfed

And best of all -Tutorials dont replace Schools and control a Robotic Destiny of Students.


Easily one of the Finest Pieces of Legislation by a World Leader in the 21st Century

https://youtu.be/-2fBSWfKHZs

What a circus of clowns! Sorry didn’t really want to insult the clowns. Better to compare them to a herd of charging ignoramus buffaloes, or some hungry anacondas, definitely social vermins of the worse kind.

Indeed, this is a question that many people are asking.

And precisely, because it is on many people’s minds, that I will answer it. Well, without a “crystal ball” perhaps, but in my own way.

So let’s look at the parameters…

[1] No actual leadership

President Biden is a figurehead. There’s no one “upstairs”.

This is not a political assessment. It’s an actual observation by anyone who watches the videos of him. He cycles in and out of clarity, and often appears to be suffering from pretty advanced dementia.

He goes though the motions. Read the teleprompters, and “kisses babies”.

But in the strategy briefing rooms, in high level discussions, and other important roles, he’s present but not proactive.

[2] Careening out of control

Without leadership, the “car careens wildly on the road”.

Financial opportunists place all sorts of bills and initiatives for personal profit “on the table”. These then “grow legs” and take on a life of their own. The Tiktok ban is one such example. Thus the Senate and Congress appears to be simply a forum for grandstanding while the “representatives” try to accept higher and higher piles of cash for their participation.

Congress more aptly resembles a shark feeding frenzy over a cow carcass.

There’s no real statesmanship, leadership, or forward planning. It’s all on “autopilot”, and being run by monied interests.

[3] The road is not empty

It wouldn’t be so bad if the “careening car” is on a wide and open empty highway. But it isn’t. There are many other cars on this road. There are cars with couples. cars with families, and school busses full of children.

It’s only a matter of time before the careening car smashes into someone else.

After smashing into Syria, Libya, Yemen, Afghanistan, the car is now banging into a large clunky tractor-trailer; Russia. And, each time the tractor-trailer tries to get unstuck the car smashes again, and again, and again. It’s almost like the driver for the United States car has no brakes. It’s acceleration only. And Russia while dinged up, is still moving forward.

Now a big yellow bus full of school children looms up ahead. This is China, and it is enormous (being double-Decker), and powerful, and does not want to be hit.

And everyone around is terrified.

And what does the United States car do?

It “floors” the gas petal, and is zooming straight ahead. The driver seemingly wants to broadside the bus at high speed.

Conclusion

Is it no wonder why people are concerned? People are terrified.

At this stage of the game, and I am loathe to say this, there are only four (x4) things that can stop the upcoming disaster…

  • The car runs out of gas, and stops dead in the middle of the road. It sputters, and dies.
  • The people inside the careening car take control of the wheel. And then, carefully and slowly, ease it to the side of the road.
  • The crazy car drives off the highway on it’s own, and destroys itself without hitting anyone else.
  • The tractor-trailer and the bus full of children coordinate and with their combined mass, push the madman off the road on their own. And other cars, acting in good faith, help in whatever capacity they can provide.

OPEC+ oil alliance announces surprise production cuts

Good strategy to crush the Western  nations economy at a time when they are severely ill .
Saudi Arabia and other OPEC+ oil producers have announced voluntary cuts to their production amounting to about 1.15 million barrels per day (bpd), calling it a “precautionary measure” aimed at market stability.

The 23-nation group had been largely expected to stick to its already agreed 2 million bpd cuts when its ministerial panel, which includes Saudi Arabia and Russia, meets virtually on Monday.

Article HERE

Light and darkness

Growing up as a young boy, I lived off “breakfast cereals” every morning. These are just sugar-coated wheat or rice pellets. I would put sugar in generous heaps piled on top of the pellets and then add icy cold milk to it.

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2023 04 01 08 09

Over the years, I have grown away from this expensive habit. Accepting warmer cooked foods, often not sugary, and coffee as replacements.

As we age; we change.

I call this growth.

Is it good or bad,  Time will tell. But right now, I feel healthier than I ever did when I lived in the USA; twenty years ago.

Things that make you go hum…


Personally, I view all this military and nuclear weapons systems, as China and Russia holding a “shotgun to the head” of the United States. They are telling “President” Biden that they know that the United States is either bat-shit crazy, or acting irrational (on the global Geo-political scene) intentionally for Geo-political advantage.

Don’t fuck with us. They say.

Just do though your death spasms, but don’t fuck with us.

If you do, well then…


Suicide by cop might actually be the way the United States ends.

But, you know, there are smart people in both China and Russia. They know everything that I am describing right now.

And you and I, well…

We don’t know the full story; getting the full intel. But one thing is certain, the USA is totally fucked.

It’s just simply a matter of perception about how bad it actually is.

ALL roads now lead thru China

  • within three hours
  • three leaders from Malaysia, Singapore AND Spain
  • arrived in Beijing
  • others like President Macron of France and EU President Ursula von der Leyen
  • will arrive in the next several weeks

It is clear that the world have now ANOINTED a new leader

  • disgusted with the constant war and death
  • the bullying and belittling
  • most of all, its constant diatribe of hate

that the prior leader had inflicted on others

THAT this world seek peaceful coexistant

a FAMILY of NATIONS

Americans have no idea how bad badly it’s going to affect them.

White House — Americans in Russia Should LEAVE IMMEDIATELY

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The White House today publicly told Americans residing in, or traveling in Russia, to “Leave Russia Immediately.”

Here’s the White House Statement:

US AmericansShouldLeaveRussiaImmediately
US AmericansShouldLeaveRussiaImmediately

Absolutely Fantastic Coconut Lamps by Vainius Kubilius

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Artist Vainius Kubilius carefully crafts lamps that project visually exciting and exotic patterns of light on adjacent walls. Unlike your typical light designer, Kubilius doesn’t simply work with metals and manmade materials. Instead, this creative innovator incorporates coconuts into his products, which he designs under the label Nymphs.

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The TikTok Hearing and Xiang Zhuang’s Sword Dance as Viewed by Two CICIR Analysts

“If incidents like TikTok were to occur repeatedly, the [world’s] digital future would indeed be a worrying one. In this sense, the TikTok saga cannot be given enough strategic scrutiny and attention”

Today’s edition of Sinification focuses on one of the many reactions in China to the US Congress’s recent hearing on the popular video-sharing app TikTok. The piece presented below is co-authored by two analysts from the influential China Institutes of Contemporary International Relations (CICIR) and offers a somewhat more moderate appraisal of TikTok’s recent scrutiny in the US than others (for a more hawkish and propagandistic commentary, see for example Tian Feilong’s recent opinion piece for Guancha.cn). Their article is entitled “Xiang Zhuang’s Sword Dance: What is he after? — The Prismatic Effect of the TikTok Incident”, which refers to a famous plot by warlord Xiang Yu (项羽) to kill the future founder and first emperor of the Han dynasty Liu Bang (刘邦) in 206 BC. In TikTok’s case, the one performing this deceptive sword dance is, of course, the United States. The authors base most of their commentary on arguments made by Western analysts, another reminder perhaps of how much more closely the Chinese follow discussions in the West than we do theirs – yet also how much easier it is for them to do so. Beyond the language barrier, I am referring here to both the censorship and self-censorship that hinder public political discussions in China. Though less acute than what is often assumed, such constraints are nevertheless real and make the analysis of these debates all the more difficult.

SUMMARY

  • US concerns that TikTok may pose a threat to its national security are, of course, dismissed with the company being compared to “an innocent man whose talent has aroused the envy of others”.
  • The US’s crackdown on TikTok is said to be a case of “treating the symptoms but not the root cause” and the result of the politicisation of America’s tech and industrial policies.
  • It is seen as a symbol of Washington’s quest for cyber “dominance and leadership” in the world and its desire to constrain China in this field.
  • The TikTok affair is depicted as particularly worrying and as potentially auguring further TikTok-like crackdowns – a trend that would also exacerbate an already fragmented internet.

EXCERPTS

It is widely believed that this [TikTok] affair, although seemingly targeted against TikTok, is in actual fact ‘unrelated’ to it [与其’无关’]. It is but the tip of the iceberg in the US government's many overpowering measures to crackdown on China in the digital sector. Thus, our attention should go beyond this event itself and focus on the various implications it brings to light.”

“[The crackdown on TikTok] is nothing other than a case of the innocent man whose talent has aroused the envy of others [无他,匹夫无罪,怀璧其罪罢了]. Washington’s new National Cybersecurity Strategy clearly states the need for the US to rebuild the digital ecosystem and cyberspace so that it can ensure America’s [global] dominance and leadership. And as we all know, the future digital ecosystem and cyberspace will be built on new technologies and apps. Digital market giants such as leading tech companies are undoubtedly one of these key elements.”

“Meanwhile, the rise of TikTok in recent years has seen it become one of the very few competitors to Facebook, Google and others.”

“Throughout the [TikTok] hearing, there was a common feeling among onlookers that ‘Xiang Zhuang was dancing with a sword’ [i.e. the US had ulterior motives]. The US government's wielding of its so-called data security weapon [数据安全大杀器] was the nominal focus of the questioning. However, members of the hearing committee consistently turned a deaf ear to the data security protection model that TikTok had agreed on during its discussions with the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS). Instead, they latched onto its Chinese-owned background and wouldn’t let go of this. Before the hearing, FBI Director Chris Wray claimed that the Chinese government could control TikTok's activities in the US remotely. During the hearing, House Committee on Energy and Commerce Chair Rodgers and [Ranking Member] Pallone both said that its Chinese-owned background made it impossible for TikTok to adhere to American values and continued to repeat the cliché that TikTok is a Chinese government proxy corporation in the US that has the potential to harm America’s domestic security. After the hearing, US Senate Select Committee on Intelligence Chair Mark Warner stated that the hearing had failed to allay lawmakers' concerns about TikTok's links to the Chinese government.”

“In fact, as the US side itself admits, all of this is just an excuse [一切只是由头]. According to Glenn Gerstell, a researcher at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) and former general counsel of the US National Security Agency (NSA), the data held by TikTok does not in fact constitute a strategic risk [Comment: As far as I am aware, Glenn Gerstell has not said this. His arguments have been a lot more nuanced. See here and here for some of his thoughts on the matter].”

“Caitlin Chin, another researcher at CSIS, further stated that recent [measures], such as the US DATA Act and the RESTRICT Act, have all been targeted against China, and that TikTok's Chinese-owned background is itself an easy target to attack [Comment: I am not familiar with Caitlin Chin’s views, but here are two of her most recent commentaries on this issue: 1. Banning TikTok Will Not Solve U.S. Online Disinformation Problems; 2. The Plans to Ban TikTok Aren’t Really About TikTok].”

“All this shows that these various acts of political grandstanding [各种粉墨登场式的卖力表演] really have little to do with TikTok itself, which has become nothing more than a political mobilisation ‘tool [工具人]’ for the US government in the digital sphere.”

“Discussions are still underway on how to resolve this issue properly. For example, Justin Sherman, a researcher at the Atlantic Council, a US think tank, believes that the solution to the TikTok issue should not be limited to the binary choice of banning or not banning it. Additionally, US Secretary of State [Antony] Blinken has said that, apart from a ban, there were [other] ways of addressing the TikTok problem [Comment: In response to the question ‘Shouldn’t a threat to United States security be banned?’, Blinken’s word-for-word answer was, ‘It should be ended one way or another. But there are different ways of doing that’].”

“James Lewis, senior vice president of the American think tank CSIS, also recommended that while the US should take action against TikTok, it should not be banned [Comment: Since no references were provided in this article, the authors could be referring to Lewis’s argument that it would be unconstitutional to ban TikTok on account of America’s right to free speech]. Instead, CFIUS [could] set oversight conditions and form an oversight committee, thereby reducing the national security risks posed by TikTok.”

“In reality, however, these solutions will be treating only the symptoms and not the root cause [‘治标’不‘治本’]. That is because the issue itself is a result of the ‘politicisation’ of [the US’s] tech and industrial policies. If the politicisation problem is not addressed in a fundamental way, not only will the plight of TikTok itself be difficult to resolve, but one can even foresee many other such ‘TikTok’ incidents emerging in other areas.”

“Although the final outcome of the [TikTok] case has not yet been decided, the longer-term and deeper ramifications of this event have already emerged. These deserve deep consideration and very close attention. For example, does this episode indicate that the US government's regulation of global cyberspace is set to shift further from ‘behind the scenes’ to ‘the front of the stage’ [从’幕后’走向’台前’]? Well-known global cyber-surveillance incidents such as ‘PRISM gate’ have shown that the US’s [attitude towards] cyber-surveillance has both a dark and a light side. Ostensibly, [the US] has been a proponent of so-called freedom and equality online and has been promoting the flow of data and content. But following the TikTok saga, the international community is [now] worried that as Washington’s digital and online policies become increasingly assertive and politicised, its intervention in and regulation of [this space] will intensify. As Marietje Schaake, a researcher at Stanford University's Cyber Policy Centre and former Member of the European Parliament, has said, a by-product of [America’s] oversight of TikTok has been that the US has recognised the failure of its so-called hands-off approach towards online businesses and that a political consensus is emerging in government to further regulate cyberspace.”

“In light of this, there have been increasing concerns about the further fragmentation of the internet. As Lewis claims, a US ban on TikTok is bound to trigger Chinese countermeasures. Alena Epifanova, a researcher at the German Council on Foreign Relations, believes that should a US ban trigger an escalation in conflicting US and Chinese policies, the impact would go far beyond China and the US and could jeopardise the future of the global internet. Katja Muñoz, [another] researcher at the German Council on Foreign Relations, says that a US ban could trigger emulation around the world, setting a bad precedent for internet protectionism across countries and prompting the introduction of more bans against online businesses, which would be extremely destructive.”

“Therefore, from the perspective of geopolitical security and strategic rivalry, the TikTok issue may be only the tip of the iceberg. But the entire future of the online and digital space ecosystem will be shaped by [the fact that] ‘many a little makes a muckle’ [聚沙成塔: lit. grains of sand put together can make a tower] or even ‘dripping water turns into ice’ [滴水成冰]. If incidents like TikTok were to occur again and again, the [world’s] digital future would indeed be a worrying one. In this sense, the TikTok saga cannot be given enough strategic scrutiny and attention.

Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato Pie

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2023 03 31 21 40

Ingredients

  • 12 slices bacon, fried crisp and crumbled
  • 1 cup shredded cheese
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  • Chopped onion to taste
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 cup Bisquick
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Butter a 9-inch pie pan.
  2. Layer bacon crumbs on bottom and cheese on top.
  3. Beat remaining ingredients until smooth. Pour over top.
  4. Bake at 400 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes.
  5. Cool for 5 minutes.
  6. Garnish with mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato and bacon.

I am from Taiwan.

Yes, that is more or less where things are going. Not only will it be considered a CCP propaganda, but the agenda is to make the word “China” sound dirty, and those who invoke the word feel filthy and ashamed, thus shy away from using it.

IBM recently unveiled its new suite of quantum computer modules, named after many Asian cities. You would think, with China’s status in research in quantum computing, it would include many Chinese cities. Wrong. There are modules named after Auckland, Mumbai, of course, even Hanoi, but not a single Chinese city. IBM doesn’t want to look non-sexy, or even filthy.

Recently I saw an American woman promoting rice bowl dishes on TV. She said, “You know, there are so many wonderful rice bowl dishes in Asia, Korean rice bowl, Japanese rice bowl, Vietnamese rice bowl, ….”, at which point she caught herself, lest she should sound filthy and shameful. Good for her that she narrowly escaped becoming the pariah of that TV show.

The antithesis of that is Taiwan, where I am from. In the West, if you say anything negative about Taiwan, you are labeled a CCP mouthpiece. This happened recently with the University of London, which labeled everyone a Chinese spy who inquired about the Taiwanese president’s self-proclaimed but unprovable PhD degree. BBC (of course!) even gave those people colluding with the University of London ample airtime to broadcast this accusation.

“If you are curious about whether the Taiwanese president really has a PhD, you are a Chinese spy!”

— University of London

When Dize Does Matter – Bestiarum Vocabulum: Last Of The Earth’s Giants

Patrick Aryee is a biologist. After studying Cancer Biology at the University of Bristol, Patrick decided to pursue a career in wildlife filmmaking and was an integral crew member for a number of BBC productions. Now, Patrick Aryee’s gets up close and personal with some of the world’s biggest creatures in his new three-part series. Episode one airs on Sky1, Wednesday 13 June, 9pm.

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The Amphimachairodus, an early member of the cat family, was 1.3m in length and weighed an estimated 490kg. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

h/t: theguardian

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The ice age giant ground sloth (Megatherium) stood a colossal 5.5m high. Meanwhile the Glyptodon is a prehistoric relative of the modern armadillo – albeit one the size of a VW Beetle. While the terror bird from the Cenozoic era was a truly terrifying 3m high. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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This giant snake, Titanoboa, lived around 58 to 60 million years ago. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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The Gigantopithecus Blacki, a giant ape from nine million years ago, was 3m tall. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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2023 03 31 15 g5

Canis Dirus translates to “fearsome dog” and the creature is also known as a “dire wolf”. It lived in the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene epochs. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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2023 03 31 15 16

This prehistoric sperm whale was 16m long from nose to tail. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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The D einotherium, a prehistoric relative of the elephant, was 4.1m high. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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This Megalodon (big tooth) lived between 23 and 2.6m years ago. It is an early relative of the great white shark and palaeontologists believe it was a staggering 20m in length. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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The A mphimachairodus giganeus and the D inocrcuta gigantea where both 1.3m high with truly fearsome teeth and powerful jaws. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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This enormous prehistoric relative of the brown bear, Arctotherium angustidens, was the height of a grown man when walking on all four paws. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

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2023 03 31 15 18

Fossil records indicate that this early lizard, Megalina prisca, was a whopping seven metres in length. (Photo by Sky TV/The Guardian)

The American hypersonic “Dagger” died without being born

The United States took the appearance of Russian hypersonic missiles “Dagger” and “Zircon” very painfully and in recent years has been desperately trying to catch up with us in this critically important segment of weapons.

One of the “answers” to Russia was to be the new AGM-183A air-launched missile (ARRW). It was supposed to be deployed in the first half of the 2020s.

But, this “product”, having failed its next test on March 13, 2023, completely lost the “trust” of the US Air Force command and yesterday it was announced that work on this program was being curtailed.

In general, the American “Dagger” died without being born, and ours has successfully hit the enemy for the umpteenth time, incl. and officers of the NATO countries who had the imprudence to end up in Ukraine in specially protected bunkers of the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

P.S. How did they write in the USA about “Daggers” several years ago – “beautiful pictures for Putin”? Well, now let them admire their pictures, which will forever remain just pictures…”

Twitter HERE

Looks like they never solved the maneuverability, ramjet and communication problems related to hypersonic technology, needed to create a weapon like Zircon. They might be able to make some missile that can fly over mach 5 intermediary flight stage, but has to slow down and become regular supersonic missile for target acquirement and maneuvering.

Posted by: unimperator | Mar 30 2023 14:03 utc | 2

Geopolitics & Car Manufacturing

As I have detailed before, the global car manufacturing industry is the largest and most impactful manufacturing sector, with huge spin-offs in electronics, software, electric battery and general mass manufacturing technologies. With the replacement of internal combustion engines (ICE) with electric propulsion system vehicles (EV), the area in which Chinese car manufacturers lagged was replaced with an area where they could leap-frog (along with Tesla). Already in the Chinese car market, the largest car market in the world, the sales of ICE cars have peaked and are falling:

2020 Chinese Car Sales: 19.7 million, of which 1.27 million were EVs

2021 Chinese Car Sales: 21.48 million, of which 2.9 million were EVs

2022 Chinese Car Sales: 23.6 million, of which 5.92 million were EVs

Therefore, Chinese ICE car sales were 18.43 million in 2020, 18.58 million in 2021, and dropped to 17.68 million in 2022 even as the overall car market grew substantially. Estimates for Chinese EV sales in 2023 are forecast to reach 8 million with little overall car market growth, meaning that ICE sales will fall to 15.6 million – a fall of 2.08 million sales (11.7%)! This fall will be concentrated in the foreign car manufacturers (excluding Tesla) as they provide the majority of the ICE vehicles while having little or no share of EV sales (excluding Tesla). The Chinese car manufacturers are generally represented in both ICE and EV sales (e.g. SAIC, GAC, Changan, Geely, Chery) or are completely focused on EV sales (BYD, Li, Xpeng, Nio). Every extra EV sale will tend to reduce sales of foreign manufacturers brands and increase those of local brands.

Could things be much worse for the foreign ICE brands? Yes, for two reasons, the Tesla instigated price war and new ICE emission standards coming into effect in July. The Tesla China price cuts in October of last year then in January of this year, together with the falling costs of manufacturing inputs (e.g. Lithium) has produced somewhat of a price war which has brought EVs on par with ICE cars with respect to purchase price. This has easily offset any negative effects from the reduction in EV incentives at the end of 2022 and may lead to a faster displacement of ICE vehicles; EV sales will be higher than forecast and therefore ICE sales less than forecast. Lower sales for the European manufacturers and higher sales for Chinese manufacturers (plus Tesla). In the first two months of 2023, Volkswagen only outsold BYD by about 60,000 cars (ICE and EV) with Toyota lagging far behind and with Changan and Geely nipping at its heels. The German and Japanese manufacturers used to dominate the Chinese car market and rely on China for a large share of their profits (e.g. 50% for VW); none have a meaningful position among EVs in China. This will only get worse in 2024 and 2025, as EV market share moves well past 50%.

With sales lagging far behind production, the ICE manufacturers and their dealers have an increasing number of cars swelling their inventories. The problem is that those cars will become illegal to sell in China from July, when the new emissions regulations come into place (Electric Viking covers this well in the video below). The ICE manufacturers only option is to slash prices to move those cars, with the EV price war significantly reducing the prices required to move the cars, or ship the cars abroad to sell them at significantly lower prices (with the net price reduced even further by shipping costs). There could possibly be millions of cars sold at losses of US$10,000s, producing overall losses of tens of billions split between the dealers (who own the cars once they take delivery) and the car manufacturers; possibly bankrupting much of the European, Japanese and US manufacturer’s Chinese dealership network and producing large losses for the manufacturers themselves.

The end result will be a financially damaged set of Western car manufacturers, some impact to Chinese manufacturers (some of the smaller more marginal ones may go by the wayside), and a significant jump by the winners which may include BYD, Tesla, GAC and many other Chinese manufacturers; with domestic manufacturers taking a much larger, and increasing, share of the Chinese market.

With a recession in the offing for both the US market (important to Japanese as well as US manufacturers) and Europe, together with the effect of the Tesla price cuts in the US and the price cuts plus increasing China brand sales in Europe (e.g. MG), the traditional Western ICE car manufacturers may find themselves in a rapidly falling downward spiral. They will not only have falling revenues, and losses from selling Chinese ICE cars below cost to clear them, but also many of their assets (e.g. ICE manufacturing plants) may be rendered obsolete; requiring significant write-offs for not fully depreciated assets. As a manufacturer’s revenue and asset levels form the basis for loan agreements, and these ICE manufacturers have extremely large amounts of debt, they could rapidly find themselves in both liquidity and solvency crises.

There may be some protection for the US home market from the Trump implemented China tariffs and the recent protectionist Inflation Reduction Act (for example, BYD has no plans to set up a US plant), but the European market has no such protection. GM has pretty much exited its international operations, with its Chinese sales produced through joint ventures with SAIC (SAIC-GM) and SAIC and Wuling (SGMW) that it does not have majority control over. The recent travails of GM joint-venture sales in China:

Ford has already significantly retrenched its international operations, and its Chinese sales are handled through a joint-venture with Changan-Ford; with a 2% market share. To all intents and purposes GM and Ford have become US domestic manufacturers of mostly trucks and SUVs. In China both SAIC and Changan have the possibility of offsetting falling GM and Ford sales with sales of their own brands, including EVs. The threat in the US will tend to come from Tesla for the next few years, the real battleground will be Europe and the rest of the world outside the US and China. The biggest losers may be VW, Toyota, BMW and Mercedes Benz – exposed to the Chinese, European and US markets.

This will be at a time when Western government deficits are stretched by increased defence spending and recession, European deficits have been stretched by subsidies to cushion populations from huge increases in energy costs, and COVID has already produced much higher debt levels. The significantly increased interest rates to fight inflation, from near zero levels, will also exacerbate deficits due to increased interest payments. It is these stretched governments that will be asked to bail out the failing Western car manufacturers. Even if some manufacturers are bailed out, the result will be a much-reduced Western car industry (excluding Tesla) and a significant increase in the Chinese share of that industry; one where they already dominate the battery sector.

Such a realignment within the largest and most important manufacturing sector in the world will have very significant geopolitical impacts, with the West being further “hollowed out”. The inclusion of Japan and possibly South Korea in this hollowing out may significantly impact the balance of power within Asia, and the relationship between the nations of ASEAN and China. Any protectionist measures taken by South Korea or Japan to protect their car industries will most probably doom their car sales in the largest global car market, China. The possible devastation and downsizing of the European car industry, combined with the self-harming sanctions fallout, may remove Europe (and especially Germany) as a significant geopolitical player. Chinese automobile dominance in Latin America will further pull that region into the Chinese economic sphere.

Geopolitical strength is most fundamentally based upon geo-economic considerations, and the realignment of the most important global manufacturing industry will have impacts that ripple throughout the world over the next years and decades. The major winner will be China, with a Russia benefitting from a much-weakened Europe.

Yeah, I learned I'm feeling sick , whats happening to my country. Born in '57, it was great, you youngsters wouldn't believe how cool it was. Really you wouldn't .

China, Brazil strike deal to ditch U.S. dollar for trade

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China and Brazil have reached a deal to trade in their own currencies, ditching the US dollar as an intermediary, the Brazilian government said on Wednesday, Beijing’s latest salvo against the almighty greenback.

The deal will enable China, the top rival to US economic hegemony, and Brazil, the biggest economy in Latin America, to conduct their massive trade and financial transactions directly, exchanging yuan for reais and vice versa instead of going through the dollar.

“The expectation is that this will reduce costs… promote even greater bilateral trade and facilitate investment,” the Brazilian Trade and Investment Promotion Agency (ApexBrasil) said in a statement.

China is Brazil’s biggest trading partner, with a record US$150.5 billion (S$200 billion) in bilateral trade last year.

The deal, which follows a preliminary agreement in January, was announced after a high-level China-Brazil business forum in Beijing.

Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva was originally scheduled to attend the forum as part of a high-profile China visit, but had to postpone his trip indefinitely on Sunday after he came down with pneumonia.

The Industrial and Commercial Bank of China and Bank of Communications BBM will execute the transactions, officials said.

China has similar currency deals with Russia, Pakistan and several other countries.

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The most dramatic effects of a weakening dollar will be scrutiny of the Pentagon budget. So long as the dollar is protected by its reserve currency status the party can continue. It is a pity that the US wasted the enormous value it got from its seignorage on arms destined to be useless but that is life. The public, as noted in the Boston Review article cited @16 above, has been axcuded from foreign policy decisions since 1945 so the enormous amounts spent on what is laughably called ‘Defence’ have been subject to very little public or congressional scrutiny.
The Pentagon says “Jump” and the American People reply “How High?”

De-dollarisation will put an end to that. Having to fork out money for weapons that are never used except on targets that they are totally inappropriate for (cf B52s and Afghan wedding parties) will help concentrate minds as Americans are asked to finance expenditure out of the taxes that they pay. And which bear disproportionately on those least able to pay them.
This year’s budget is discussed by William D. Hartung at Information Clearing House, which is returning to form after a lean period due to ill health.

“On March 13th, the Pentagon rolled out its proposed budget for Fiscal Year 2024. The results were — or at least should have been — stunning, even by the standards of a department that’s used to getting what it wants when it wants it.

“The new Pentagon budget would come in at $842 billion. That’s the highest level requested since World War II, except for the peak moment of the Afghan and Iraq wars, when the United States had nearly 200,000 troops deployed in those two countries.

“It’s important to note that the $842 billion proposed price tag for the Pentagon next year will only be the beginning of what taxpayers will be asked to shell out in the name of “defense.” If you add in nuclear weapons work at the Department of Energy and small amounts of military spending spread across other agencies, you’re already at a total military budget of $886 billion. And if last year is any guide, Congress will add tens of billions of dollars extra to that sum, while yet more billions will go for emergency aid to Ukraine to help it fend off Russia’s brutal (sic)* invasion. In short, we’re talking about possible total spending of well over $950 billion on war and preparations for more of it — within striking distance, in other words, of the $1 trillion mark that hawkish officials and pundits could only dream about a few short years ago.

“The ultimate driver of that enormous spending spree is a seldom-commented-upon strategy of global military overreach, including 750 U.S. military bases scattered on every continent except Antarctica, 170,000 troops stationed overseas, and counterterror operations in at least 85 — no, that is not a typo — countries (a count offered by Brown University’s Costs of War Project). Worse yet, the Biden administration only seems to be preparing for more of the same. Its National Defense Strategy, released late last year, manages to find the potential for conflict virtually everywhere on the planet and calls for preparations to win a war with Russia and/or China, fight Iran and North Korea, and continue to wage a global war on terror, which, in recent times, has been redubbed “countering violent extremism.” Think of such a strategic view of the world as the exact opposite of the “diplomacy first” approach touted by President Joe Biden and his team during his early months in office. Worse yet, it’s more likely to serve as a recipe for conflict than a blueprint for peace and security….”
HERE

* The (sic) is mine. The ‘brutal invasion’ hyperbole part of the price that Tom Englehard and Hartung pay for not thinking things through. After seventy years of Cold War its as unsurprising as it is lamentable

Posted by: bevin | Mar 30 2023 21:58 utc | 60

France Buys 65,000 Tons of Natural Gas from “China” – Pays for it in Yuan, NOT DOLLARS!

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China has just completed its first trade of liquefied natural gas (LNG) settled in Chinese yuan currency, the Shanghai Petroleum and Natural Gas Exchange confirmed.

Chinese state oil and gas giant CNOOC and TotalEnergies completed the first LNG trade on the exchange with settlement in the Chinese currency, the exchange said in their statement.

The trade involved around 65,000 tons of LNG imported from the United Arab Emirates, the Shanghai Petroleum and Natural Gas Exchange added.

NOTE: China will never admit that it is re-exporting Russian LNG even though it now does it all the time!

The French supermajor, one of the world’s top LNG traders, confirmed to Reuters that the trade involved LNG imported from the UAE, but declined to comment further on the deal.

Hal Turner Commentary Opinion

So now our ally, France, is ditching the US dollar for fossil fuel trades. One by one, countries of the entire world seem to be giving-up on using the U.S. Dollar. Instead, countries are negotiating currency values between each other, then using local currency to settle trade deals.

This is the death knell for the USA.

As more and more countries use fewer and fewer dollars, all those excess dollars they’ve been holding in the central bank reserves, will end up coming back here to the United States because countries don’t need (or want) them anymore.

As all that cash returns to America, the value of the US Dollar will plummet against foreign currencies.

Since the US doesn’t manufacture much of anything here anymore, but instead imports from foreign countries, all the things we have to import will get more and more expensive as the dollar falls further and further in value. America will see inflation similar to what the Weimar Republic suffered before World War 2, with wheel barrows of cash needed to buy a loaf of bread.

All this is happening because our federal government is meddling in the affairs of so many foreign lands. If those foreign countries fail – or refuse — to do what America wants, our federal government imposes economic sanctions, forbidding those countries from using “our” money for “their” trade.

In the past, economic sanction from the US would mean a country was literally cut off from most foreign markets because almost all foreign trade has always been settled in US dollars.

As countries see the US meddling, they’re deciding they don’t want to be pushed around by the US federal government. As such, they are negotiating trade deals with each other, to accept each other’s currency, thus by-passing the US, and making it impossible for the US government to meddle with them.

As more and more countries do this, all those hundreds-of-billions of Dollars they all hold in the central banks, will come flooding back to the US and our inflation will break our country.

Our federal government is directly to blame for this.

When YOU cannot feed YOUR family because the money is so worthless, remember, it was YOUR member of the US Congress who did this. It was YOUR US Senators who did this.

As you watch your children suffering pains from hunger, hold those sniveling, lowly, government public servants accountable.

Ukraine President Posts Petition for U.S. Nukes on Ukraine Soil; Russia Suggests They Would make Pre-Emptive Nuclear Strike

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A potential Russian “petition” on a preventive nuclear strike could come in response to any initiative to transfer US nuclear weapons to Ukraine, Russian Security Council Deputy Chairman Dmitry Medvedev opined on his Telegram channel on Thursday.

A petition calling for the deployment of US nuclear weapons on Ukrainian soil was posted on Ukrainian President Vladimir Zelensky’s website on Thursday.

Commenting on the petition on Zelensky’s website, Medvedev blogged that the response could, in all probability, take the form of “a Russian petition in favor of the immediate pre-emptive use of Russian nuclear weapons.”

Jan 6 “Q-Anon Shaman” Jacob Chansley, Released from Prison Early

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q anon Shamon large
q anon Shamon large

Jacob Chansley, the man known as the “QAnon Shaman” has been transferred to an Arizona halfway house.

Chansley was moved from federal prison to the Phoenix area with a projected release date of May 25. Chansley had pleaded guilty to obstructing the Electoral College proceedings and was sentenced to 41 months in prison back in November.

“Recent changes have been made regarding First Step Act assessments such that the 28-day assessment will count as the first, and that an inmate will be able to earn 15 days after two assessments rather than three,” a Federal Bureau of Prisons spokesperson told the outlet. “These additional time credits were calculated during the last scheduled application rollout in March 2023. therefore, these changes will allow inmates to earn the extra 5 days of time credit for every 30-day period.”

The release comes after video showwing Chansley being escorted by police around the US Capital, was publicly shown, proving he did no violence or property damage, and that the government’s claims were lies.  This video had been in the possession of the Democrat’s January 6 Committee, and they kept it hidden to perpetuate the outright lies they were peddling about January 6 being an “insurrection.”

Little White Fleet?

Red sails in the Sunrise

In Ukraine, Russia enjoys armaments escalation dominance, thanks to its massive weapons industry, which dwarfs America’s and produces 50,000 shells and missiles every day. Ukraine gets 5,000 from the all the armories of the West – and no likelihood of more.

Outside Divine intervention, the contest can end only one way. Russia’s capacity to escalate its existing manufacturing dominance means it can do more of anything Ukraine can do.

That’s why military professionals spend so much time on economics and logistics. They’re taught that fleets win battles and economies win wars. But since fleets fight battles, we must look more closely at how things are shaping up in the Pacific.

Fleet escalation dominance

The PLAN enjoys fleet escalation dominance over the US Navy in the West Pacific.

China’s 340 warships are newer and better armed than America’s 290. And, thanks to launching five Burke-class destroyers simultaneously this year, the PLAN will have 400 boats in 2025, while the USN hopes for 300 by 2030.

Says US Naval War College Professor – and former Navy Captain – Sam Tangredi, “In naval warfare, the bigger fleet almost always wins. In 28 naval wars, from the Greco-Persian Wars of 500 BC, through Cold War interventions, we found just three where superior technology defeated bigger numbers”.

Armaments escalation dominance

China has turned its research lead in chemistry and math into powerful, innovative weapons. Beijing contends with Moscow for the lead in hypersonic missiles while the US has yet to test one.

Even conventional Chinese missiles outrange their American counterparts by 50%-100%, and in some cases, the US has no counterpart to their innovative, specialized weapons.

Quality

China’s naval technology is superior to America’s simply because it’s a generation younger. PLAN boats have much lower mileage, and are more powerfully armed than ours.

We’re Number Three!

If the foregoing is accurate, we’re Number Two in the West Pacific.

Russia’s victory in Ukraine, over the USA, NATO and the EU, will drop us another notch. Do voters want to spend $1 trillion a year to boast, “We’re Number Three!”?

Politically and economically, navally and terrestrially, can the US even afford industrial warfare?

2023 03 31 16 30
2023 03 31 16 30

And if we to go to war, we know who has morale escalation..

China’s President Announces “Preparing for War”

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Xi Parliamnet large
Xi Parliamnet large

Chinese leader Xi Jinping says he is preparing for war. At the annual meeting of China’s parliament and its top political advisory body this month, Xi wove the theme of war readiness through four separate speeches, in one instance telling his generals to “dare to fight.”

His government also announced a 7.2 percent increase in China’s defense budget, which has doubled over the last decade, as well as plans to make the country less dependent on foreign grain imports. In recent months, Beijing has unveiled new military readiness laws, new air-raid shelters in cities across the strait from Taiwan, and new “National Defense Mobilization” offices countrywide.

It is too early to say for certain what these developments mean. Conflict is not certain or imminent. Yet something has changed in Beijing that policymakers and business leaders worldwide cannot afford to ignore. If Xi says he is readying for war, it would be foolish not to take him at his word.

RUSSIA TO HELP CHINA MAKE MORE NUCLEAR BOMBS

Russia plans to provide fast breeder nuclear reactor technology to China, an agreement that could allow Beijing to significantly grow its nuclear arsenal and tip the prevailing global balance of nuclear weapons.

Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese Premier Xi Jinping announced a long-term agreement to continue developing fast breeder nuclear reactors optimized for plutonium production for nuclear weapons.  

In December 2022, Russia’s-state owned Rosatom nuclear power company finished transferring 25 tons of highly-enriched uranium to China’s CFR-600 nuclear reactor, which analysts say has the capacity to produce 50 nuclear warheads a year.

US Department of Defense (DOD) officials and US military planners have assessed that the CFR-600 will be critical in building China’s nuclear arsenal from 400 warheads today to 1,500 by 2035.

The U.S. Air Force secretary says he’s seen nothing ‘more disturbing’ in 50-year career than this move by China.

Air Force Secretary Frank Kendall compares China’s nuclear threat to Russia’s during Cold War.

A Visit To The World’s Only Black-Cat Cafe

There are well over a hundred cat cafes all over Japan, but there’s only one devoted exclusively to black cats – a cafe called Nekobiyaka in the castle town of Himeji.

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Yes, it’s the world’s first and only black-cat cafe, located near Himeji’s central station and along the route to the town’s famous landmark castle. While there were only six cats present when we visited (the website lists a dozen), they were an extremely lively bunch – running around, jumping in the air, and playing a vigorous game of fetch with a cloth-covered toy. We’re not sure, but we suspect that catnip may have been involved.

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Since it’s hard to tell the cats here apart, they all wear different-colored bandanas around their necks, and their names incorporate their identifying color. The staff will lend you a little book with photos of all the cats, listing their names and birthdays.

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The cafe is attractively furnished in residential living-room style, with windows looking out onto one of Himeji’s shopping streets. Background music is an odd mix of easy-listening and music-box arrangements of pop songs. Cat treats are not available, however.

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The cats here are unusual in that they like playing fetch with a cloth-covered cat toy, and two of the cats were in hot competition to catch the toy in mid-air and then bring it back. By the way, although the cats all look very similar, they wear different colored bandanas around their necks so that cafe visitors can tell them apart.

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When you’re not playing with the cats you can drink your coffee (or a beer), being careful that it doesn’t get knocked over, and browse through the cafe’s collection of manga and magazines, many of them cat-related. All in all it’s a very relaxing way to spend an hour of your afternoon.

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Russia Has HALTED all Nuclear Notifications to USA; Including Test Launches

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RUSSIAN DEPUTY FOREIGN MINISTER: RUSSIA HAS STOPPED ALL NUCLEAR-RELATED NOTIFICATIONS TO UNITED STATES, INCLUDING WARNINGS ABOUT TEST LAUNCHES.

Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov told Russian news agencies that Moscow has halted all information exchanges with Washington envisioned by the last remaining nuclear arms pact with the U.S. after suspending its participation in it last month.

Along with the data about the current state of the countries’ nuclear forces routinely released every six months in compliance with the treaty, the parties also have exchanged advance warnings about test launches. Such notices have been an essential element of strategic stability for decades, allowing Russia and the United States to correctly interpret each other’s moves and make sure that neither country mistakes a test launch for a missile attack.

If Russia terminates missile test warnings, it would mark yet another attempt by the Kremlin to discourage the West from ramping up its support for Ukraine by pointing to Russia’s massive nuclear arsenal. In recent days, President Vladimir Putin announced the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons to the territory of Moscow’s ally Belarus.

Last month, Putin suspended the New START treaty, saying Russia can’t accept U.S. inspections of its nuclear sites under the agreement at a time when Washington and its NATO allies have openly declared Moscow’s defeat in Ukraine as their goal. Moscow emphasized that it wasn’t withdrawing from the pact altogether and would continue to respect the caps on nuclear weapons the treaty set.

The Foreign Ministry initially said Moscow would keep notifying the U.S. about planned test launches of its ballistic missiles, but Ryabkov’s statement appeared to signal an abrupt change of course.

 Hal Turner Analysis and Opinion

For literally years, both the US and Russia have notified each other about all aspects of their nuclear aresenals; movement of warheads/missiles, test launches and track of test launches, etc.   That has now stopped.

Now, when Russia Tests a missile, the US has no way of knowing if it is a test – or real.

This is now the time when mistakes get made.

A misinterpretation.   A misreading of direction of travel.  A misreading of intent.

I have warned for months that when the nuclear war commences, it will happen like a lighting bolt out of the blue.  I have warned that we may get little or NO NOTICE.

Now you know my warnings were right.

This situation between the US/NATO/Ukraine and Russia, is growing more dangerous by the hour.

We are in grave danger.

I think the reason you feel this way is because the price of everything in your country is way too high.

Pizza Pork Chops

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2023 03 31 21 38

Ingredients

  • 6 (1-inch thick) pork loin chops
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 2 cups tomato pasta sauce
  • 4 cups cooked orzo
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese

Instructions

  1. Remove excess fat from pork. Sprinkle pork with salt and pepper.
  2. In 12-inch skillet, heat oil over medium-high heat.
  3. Add pork; cook about 5 minutes, turning once, until brown.
  4. Place pork in 3 1/2- to 4-quart slow cooker.
  5. Sprinkle onion over pork.
  6. Add pasta sauce.
  7. Cover; cook on LOW for 4 to 6 hours.
  8. Place orzo on platter. Top with pork and sauce. Sprinkle with cheese.

Yield: 6 servings

URGENT: 300 RUSSIAN MOBILE NUCLEAR MISSILES ON THE MOVE

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YARS NukeMissileAndLauncher large
YARS NukeMissileAndLauncher large

Russia’s Strategic Missile Forces began WHAT THEY SAY are planned exercises involving the Yars mobile nuclear intercontinental ballistic missile systems, Russia’s defense ministry said minutes ago (11:06 PM EDT on Tuesday, 28 March 2023)

“In total, more than 3,000 military personnel and about 300 pieces of equipment are involved in the exercises,” the defense ministry said in a statement on the Telegram messaging app.

Each YARS missile carries of nuclear warhead with a yield of 800 kilotons.

Remember that the bomb at Hiroshima was 15 kilotons, and has been considered to be less than 5% efficient. - MM

China Russian alliance that is NOT an alliance (wink wink)

Grab a bowl of potato chips and dip and sit a spell.

If youse got some brewski’s, have a quaff.

Enjoy today’s installment.

They were basically mocking the American impression of Canadians, and then Americans started basing their Canadian impressions on Bob and Doug McKenzie, which was a satire of how the Americans thought Canadians talked and... I've gone cross-eyed...

It should be the nail in the coffin of the US hegemony in the gulf region and the Middle East, also it will be a blowback for the US arms & ammunition sales. Even Military Industrial Complex already book the sales of their used arms and ammunition in the Ukraine war. But it is obvious that after the peace deal brokered by China of Saudis and Iran, all proxy wars in the region (especially Yemen, Libya, Syria, etc) will be finished. Because most of the wars are fought between Sunni and Shia factions. So the middle east and the gulf will be cleansed from wars in near future.

Even though the US and the west have already Ukraine war as a proxy war and arms sale, also they are trying hard to instigate another war in the heart of Asia in form of Taiwan. But in the gulf specifically, in war-torn areas like Syria and Yemen, China will be the lead in reconstruction and rehabilitation work, which will financially important in this era of global recession and slowdown.

Finally, with the strong leadership of China in regional trade blocks like SCO, RCEP, ASEAN, BRICS, and many more, the chance of disruptions or war chances is minimized (even for China and India too). So no room for USA MIC here. In Africa and Latin America, the situation is abruptly changing in favor of China instead of the USA, due to the strong influence of China. Conclusively the fall of the war-mongering policies of the USA will be no room in near future due to the peaceful rise of China and its soft power.

Qin’s announcement came out after meeting with ASEAN secretary. ASEAN all welcome it, except perhaps Philippines who does not want peace in the ASEAN region.

Qin said: China will be the first one to sign the “Southeast Asia Nuclear-Weapon-Free-Zone Treaty” so as to maintain safety & stability of southeast Asian region (hereafter SA region).

China will work with southeast Asian countries to eliminate interference from country(s) outside SA region.

China will implement the rules in “Declaration on Conduct of Partners in South China Sea” that were set by countries in SA region.

China will make South China Sea a peaceful sea. A friendship sea. And a cooperation sea.

The 2023 treaty is a supplement to “Declaration on Neutralization of Southeast Asia” that was signed in Bangkok in 1971 by 10 countries in SA region.

By signing the 2023 treaty, China has promised southeast Asian countries not to install nuclear weapon in any countries in SA region.

China urges southeast Asian countries to exercise their strategic sovereignty. Do not let the US-led West lead them by their nose.

Philippines has been led by the nose by USA recently. Macros allowed USA increase US military base from 5 to 9. Before going to Japan, Macros repeated a Japanese slogan “when Taiwan has problem, so will be Philippines”.

Westerners only hear the western narrative without knowing the history of South China Sea.

Let me give a summary re South China Sea – history from natives on Hainan Island, China

Natives on Hainan Island are fishermen for generations. Can trace back to Han Dynasty ie 2000 years ago. They own a book that records the rocks/islands in South China Sea. This book 更路簿 (literal translation: distance & road record) 1更 (distance) = 10 海里 (nautical miles). It was a map & directory for fishermen in old days before there is beidou/GPS. This book is classified as world cultural heritage today.

In the past, fishermen would leave 1 person on the island (for months) so as to guard it. Or erect a sign with Chinese words to mark their territory.

Can any countries eg Philippines or Vietnam present such historical records?

Two Quorans gave detailed history of SCS. Search Quora.

1, Why does China not declare out of the UNCLOS 1982 to continuously claim 80% of South China Sea in the Chinese legal way? Answered by Johnny Fung in China World Leader

2, USA approved Chiang Kai-shek’s 11-dot line – prepared by Chiu Yu in China World Leader

The “Drudge Report”…

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2023 03 29 11 22

China’s focuses on business & trading which unifies the intl community. USA divides the intl community by political system.

When USA unilaterally decides which country can join or not, USA itself is NOT democratic. … there is no justification for USA to lead the summit.

USA’s foreign policy is to DIVIDE. Divide countries & divide people inside any country. Like a gossiper dividing the friendship of you & your friend, by creating hatred or fear of the rival. By demonizing rival with lies & twisted facts.

USA divides the intl community into “democracy” & “authoritarian”.

Russia runs western democracy but is called authoritarian by USA. Aha. Now we see it. The so-called “democracy” depends on whether a country submits to USA or not. Submit to an un-democratic USA. Isn’t that an irony?

True democracy calls for respect & coexistence of the different. We dont tell others how they manage their home. Why can USA tell others how they govern their country?

See, USA is so authoritarian that they takes away other’s FREEDOM to govern their country according to their situation, culture & history.

So authoritarian that they uses arbitrary economic sanction or military to deprive people in other countries of human rights eg Economic Right to job/income, Social Right to safety, & even Right to Life in case of wars.

USA is a true AUTHORITARIAN in the intl community. But USA calls itself democratic.

China is also called authoritarian by USA because China does not submit to USA.

What is Boao Forum about? Business & trading.

Every country & individual needs economy to maintain life eg buy food, shelter, healthcare etc. Everyone can live under any political system; the world exists long before the word “democracy” was born.

Business & trading has no nationality, political system, religion or ethnicity. They speak the same language – money ie basic need for life.

BusIness & trading UNIFIES people. Not dividing people.

FYI, there is a 3rd one called China Development Forum. It is organized by Chinese government to invite world CEO eg Apple, Pfizer, BHP etc.

Yahoo…

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2023 03 29 11 23

Nashville School Shooting

A guy called my radio show tonight saying he viewed video and found what HE says are discrepancies in the shoes and pants the shooter was wearing.  I stopped that call dead in its tracks and I’ll tell you why.

I am not Alex Jones.  He pulled that stuff with the Newtown, CT school shooting and it got him sued.

I’m NOT going to be another radio host who gets sued to oblivion by airing whack-jobs who deny reality, because those calls and their absurd theories cause emotional harm to grieving families.

Alex Jones did that, and now he’s on the hook for a Billion Dollars in damages.   Oh, and all those callers to his show that pushed that bullshit, none of THEM ponied-up even one cent of that court judgement, did they?   Nope!   They left Alex Jones swinging in the breeze and moved on to some other outlet to push their tripe.

I’m not gonna have that shit on my show.

It is my considered opinion this shooting at a Christian School in Nashville, TN took place.  I believe the victims were brutally murdered in cold blood, and the families of those victims are in my thoughts and prayers.  They should be in yours too.

I will not abide absurd theories about this type of incident somehow being manufactured or in any way untrue.

If you want to push that crap, do it somewhere else. I won’t have it on my show or on my web site.

Barbecue Pork Roast, Tavern Style

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2023 03 29 10 57

Ingredients

  • 2 large onions, sliced
  • 1 (4 pound) pork roast
  • 6 whole cloves
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 (16 ounce) bottle your favorite barbecue sauce
  • 1 large onion, chopped

Instructions

  1. Place half of the sliced onions on the bottom of the slow cooker.
  2. Place meat on top along with cloves and the remaining sliced onions.
  3. Add water, cover and cook for 8-12 hours or overnight on LOW.
  4. Remove meat from slow cooker. Drain liquid from slow cooker and discard.
  5. Remove bone and fat from meat; shred meat; return to slow cooker.
  6. Add chopped onion and barbecue sauce.
  7. Cover and cook another 1-3 hours on HIGH or 4-8 hours on LOW, stirring 3 or 4 times.
  8. Serve from slow cooker on large toasted buns.

At around 11 am on March 23, 2013, all eyes were on the podium at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations as the world attentively awaited an important speech that was to be delivered.

It was Xi Jinping’s first important speech during his first overseas trip after he was elected as the Chinese president. The speech was highly anticipated and drew worldwide attention.

“It is a world where countries are linked with and dependent on one another at a level never seen before. Mankind, by living in the global village in the same era and on the same Earth where history and reality meet, has increasingly emerged as a community of common destiny in which everyone has in himself a little bit of others,” he said.

This major concept of human beings having “a community with a shared future for mankind” proposed by Xi soon grabbed international headlines and was quickly spread to all parts of the world through extensive media reports.

In what seems like an instant, one decade has passed since the momentous speech, and the decade has been marked by numerous and significant changes.

As the world today is undergoing profound changes unseen in a century, the historical trend of peace, development, and win-win cooperation has gathered an unstoppable momentum. The prevailing trends of global multipolarity, economic globalization, and greater democracy in international relations are irreversible. Meanwhile, the world is being confronted with complex and intertwined traditional and nontraditional security challenges with damaging hegemonic acts, domination and bullying. There is a long and tortuous way to go for the global economic recovery. Countries around the world are deeply concerned and eager to find a lasting solution to mounting crises through cooperation.

The world has gained a more profound understanding that peace, development, cooperation, and mutual benefits make the world vibrant while bullying, division, conflict, and confrontation only lead nations into strife and chaos.

The world today is also full of uncertainty. Human beings must overcome the fog of hegemonism, the prevailing Cold War mentality, the employment of zero-sum game tactics, the notion of the inherent superiority of certain civilizations, and other forms of interference, and veer away from this turbulent course of history as soon as possible. The concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” proposed by Xi is the ideological beacon charting this course.

UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres once said the UN is willing to join China in promoting world peace and development, and in realizing the goal of building a community with a shared future for mankind.

A vision to future

Chinese President Xi Jinping put forward a major global concept in his speech at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations, calling for joint efforts to build a community with a shared future for mankind, on March 23, 2013. Photo: Xinhua

Truth can only be made clearer through the test of time. The great value of the concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” has been repeatedly validated over the last decade because of its insight into reality and a forward-looking vision for the future.

Only with insight can we see the times clearly.

Xi noted that we should expand our global vision and develop keen insights into human development and progress trends, respond to the general concerns of people from all countries, and play our part in resolving the common issues facing humankind.

Historically, the world has never been more connected than it is now, and human beings have never been more interdependent as they are today. If the Suez Canal is blocked, Europeans will run out of coffee to have with their breakfast; a severe rainstorm in Southeast Asia will increase the prices of computer hard drives in Latin America; thousands of parts for an airplane are manufactured by companies in dozens of countries; when an earthquake hits a country, news and pictures of the natural disaster can spread all over the world in a few minutes; and now the novel coronavirus disease has forced the entire world to fight together.

As we are all members of the global village and we belong to a community with a shared future for mankind, it is impossible to solve problems arising from such interconnectivity by severing links. All human beings must be seen as one in order to find the right way to deal with such problems.

A vision is the key to the future.

Xi has repeatedly used a “ship” as a metaphor to portray the future of mankind, when he virtually addressed the 2022 World Economic Forum, stating that “facts have shown, once again, that amid the raging torrents of a global crisis, countries are not riding separately in some 190 small boats, but are rather all in a giant ship on which our shared destiny hinges.”

In the last decade, the world has experienced dramatic changes and the road has been fraught with difficulties. Against this backdrop, the vision of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” is becoming more forward-looking when we consider how mankind has worked together to defeat the COVID-19 pandemic, when the UN Climate Change Conference achieves positive outcomes, and when the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) creates many “national landmarks,” “livelihood projects” and “monument of cooperation.”

As Stephen Perry, chairman of Britain’s 48 Group Club, said in 2020, “Coronavirus [disease] is a global crisis that no country is immune from. It has proved that building a community with a shared future for mankind is the only right choice to win the battle.”

History has proved once again that nearsightedness leads nowhere and selfish interests lead only to bad results. “Building a community with a shared future for mankind” is the only way to overcome the rapids in the treacherous waters of history.

World of great harmony

Throughout the ages, people at home and abroad have shared their yearning for a better world. The idea of “a community with a shared future for mankind” continues to resonate because its approach emphasizes “commonality.”

Pursuing the concept of “Datong,” or “a world of great harmony,” is the main aim.

“We should jointly promote the building of a community with a shared future for mankind, and work together to build an open, inclusive, clean, and beautiful world that enjoys lasting peace, universal security, and common prosperity,” Xi said in relation to the vision of an ideal world. This is a clear blueprint for a community with a shared future for mankind, and a contemporary version of the ideal of “great harmony” for mankind.

Over the last decade, Xi has visited more than 70 countries on the five continents during his more than 40 overseas trips, hosted and attended a series of important multilateral diplomatic activities, proposed the BRI, the Global Development Initiative, the Global Security Initiative, and the Global Civilization Initiative, and promote a new type of international relations with win-win cooperation, all of which have enriched the vision of “a community with a shared future for mankind” and created specific ways to achieve the said vision.

This has offered China’s solution to the changing world, times, and history, and gained broad international consensus.

“It’s mankind’s common ideal to build a world in which there are no disputes, every country enjoys development, and every person lives happily,” Yasuo Fukuda, former Japanese prime minister, said at the Boao Forum for Asia (BFA) in April 2018. “To realize this ideal, political leaders in the world need to show great foresight, point out the development direction, and make their best efforts to turn the vision into a reality,” he said.

“China’s initiative to build a community with a shared future for mankind is based on such a vision and it is hoped that all countries will join hands to realize the goal,” he noted.

Facing together is an effective way to solve problems.

In China’s eyes, to truly pursue world peace, we need dialogue and consultation, and to truly benefit the global population, we should build a shared future.

As Xi said, prejudice, discrimination, hatred, and war can only cause disaster and suffering, while mutual respect, equality, peaceful development, and common prosperity represent the right path to be taken.

Over the last decade, the universal values of peace, development, fairness, justice, democracy, and freedom have gained increasing popularity. Building an open, inclusive, clean, and beautiful world that enjoys lasting peace, universal security, and common prosperity has become an increasingly common pursuit for more and more countries.

The international community clearly realizes that there is no such a thing as a superior state, nor a one-size-fits-all model of national governance, nor an international order dominated by a single country. A united world - not a divided one - that is peaceful and not volatile is what serves the common interests of mankind.

The initiative of building a global community with a shared future was initiated by China, but promoted by all.

The concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” proposed by Xi is extremely important, Pakistani President Arif Alvi said on March 15, 2023, adding that only by working together can countries around the world address the challenges they face, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, climate change, and poverty.

China, under the leadership of Xi, has established a better image in the world and is leading the world in a good direction, Alvi said.

Beneficial global thoughts

The charm of thought often reflects one’s great personality. The idea of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” has gained increasing popularity among the people because it reflects Xi’s spirit as the leader of a major country and a world-class leader with the aim to benefit the world while deeply caring for its people.

This spirit offers great wisdom for the benefit of the world.

“All countries should rise above differences such as nationality, culture, and ideology, to build a community with a shared future for mankind and jointly build our shared planet,” Xi has said on numerous occasions internationally while extending a sincere invitation to the rest of the world. “All countries are welcome to board the train of China’s development,” “Our aim is to turn the Chinese market into a market for the world, a market shared by all, and a market accessible to all,” “Development is real only when all countries develop together,” he said.

The facts speak for themselves. The BRI has become a quality international public goods jointly built by all parties and shared by the world.

The China-Europe freight train line, so far, runs more than 65,000 trains, making it an “iron caravan” connecting Asia and Europe. The China-Laos railway can transform Laos from a landlocked country into a land-linked hub that connects the wider region. The Chinese-built Peljesac Bridge in Croatia fulfilled the Croatian people’s dream of connecting their northern and southern territories.

This sentiment also encapsulates the Chinese’s leader’s “people first” philosophy.

Even when China was poor, it tightened its belt to help its African brothers build this [Tazara Railway] railway, Xi said when he held talks with visiting Tanzanian President Samia Suluhu Hassan in Beijing on November 3, 2022. “Now that China is more developed, it is better placed to act on the principle of sincerity, real results, amity, and good faith, to help our African friends achieve common development, and to build a stronger China-Africa community with a shared future in the new era,” he noted.

From the Tazara Railway to Addis Ababa-Djibouti Railway, and Mombasa-Nairobi Standard Gauge Railway (SGR), from the China-Cambodia Friendship Poverty Alleviation Demonstration Village Project to the provision of 1,000 training quotas for poverty alleviation at the Shanghai Cooperation Organization to various countries, sincerity and real actions all bear witness to China’s initial sincerity in seeking development with the world.

“Most of the world has said this is really how we want to move forward… China and its development, and its willingness to share that development has created a new opportunity for the world,” said William Jones, Washington bureau chief of the US publication Executive Intelligence Review.

China’s success story of poverty alleviation has given “a different direction to history,” Jones said.

By relying on independence, putting people and their lives first, peaceful development, openness, inclusiveness, and solidarity, instead of war, colonialism, and plunder, the Chinese people have blazed a new path to modernization, which is different from the Western mode.

The Chinese path to modernization has inspired many other countries, especially developing ones, to figure out a new path to modernization. The Chinese people hope and believe that as more countries in the world embark on the path to modernization, the dream of a community with a shared future for mankind will come true eventually.

Right path serves common interests

The world belongs to people from all countries, and the future of the world must be in the hands of all people. Why has the concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” profoundly influenced the world? Because it encourages openness, goodwill, and innovation to achieve common goals.

This right path best serves the common interests of the vast majority of people in the world.

Xi stressed that to have a community with a shared future for mankind is not to replace one system or civilization with another. Instead, it is about countries with different social systems, ideologies, histories, cultures, and levels of development coming together for shared interests, shared rights, and shared responsibilities in global affairs, and creating the greatest synergy for building a better world.

In the last decade, the concept has brought joy along the Mombasa-Nairobi SGR thanks to faster and smoother travel instead of the cries of the refugee camp; it has brought about the opening of new factories in industrial parks around the world rather than enterprise collapse in the wake of Western-proposed “decoupling”; it has transformed certain land-locked countries into land-linked hubs, prevented some countries from being sadly made into “chess pieces.”

Martin Jacques, a senior fellow of politics and international studies at Cambridge University, said that China has carried out unprecedented work at home and abroad, and offered “a new possibility” to the world.

This right path encourages active participation.

In the last 10 years, the concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” has been written into the resolutions or declarations of the United Nations, BRICS, and other international organizations many times over: At the bilateral level, China has resonated with many countries in the face of complicated global issues; at the regional level, the building of several communities with a shared future has enjoyed steady promotion; at the global level, communities of global development, human security, human health, and human and natural life, communities with a shared future in cyberspace, a community with a shared future in nuclear security, and a community with a shared future in the ocean have emerged.

The Global Development Initiative proposed by Xi has received positive responses and support from more than 100 countries and international organizations, including the United Nations, and about 70 countries have joined the Group of Friends of the Global Development Initiative.

Recent Saudi Arabia-Iran talks in Beijing had achieved important outcomes, which are a testament to the successful practice of the Global Security Initiative, which has been praised and supported by more than 70 countries, and was unanimously welcomed by the international community.

Xi introduced the Global Civilization Initiative at the CPC in Dialogue with World Political Parties High-Level Meeting on March 15, 2023, which was warmly endorsed by the participants and resonated widely with the international community.

The BRI has transformed from a blueprint proposed one decade ago to a reality today, turning into effective development for countries and tangible benefits for countless people. So far, it has seen the participation of more than three-quarters of the world’s, attracting trillion dollars of investment, forming more than 3,000 cooperation projects, creating 420,000 jobs for countries along the BRI route, and lifting tens of millions of people out of poverty.

It has been a decade since the concept of “building a community with a shared future for mankind” was proposed. The world has seen the power of ideas and heard the echoes of history – only when destiny is shared will the world have a brighter future.

People want to live comfortable lives, to have friends and wine in every place they go, to have a happier future for their children that’s better than they have today. No one wants to survive in uncertainty, poverty, and backwardness, to grow up in a land shrouded in hostility and intimidation.

“Building a community with a shared future for mankind is an exciting goal, and it requires efforts from generation after generation,” Xi addressed the United Nations Office in Geneva, Switzerland, on January 18, 2017.

How can we take responsibility for our children and give them a better future?

The world’s tomorrow depends on our decisions today. We believe that as long as we uphold goodwill and communicate sincerely, even the biggest conflicts can be resolved and even the thickest ice can be broken. We look forward to realizing harmonious coexistence and win-win cooperation among countries, passing on the flame of peace from generation to generation.

Chinese people are ready to cooperate with the people of the world, to always be on the right side of history and on the side of the progress of human civilization, and to walk hand in hand on the path to peace and development.

The Burden Of Blogging

Some times it’s just like this. I am not feeling well. I am not sick but something is just not right.

I have no idea what to post about. Every theme and issue feels so repetitive. It is the burden of blogging, especially when one tries to post every day.

I need a pause. Likely only for a few days. I will continue to post open threads. I will continue to clean the spam queue and to somewhat police the comments. But over the next few days there will be no new original content here.

I will do something other than reading news, thinking and writing about it. I hope that it will help to clean my mind to then come back with some fresh ideas.

Posted by b at 16:37 UTC | Comments (227)

Artist Illustrated 25 Bad Puns To Brighten Your Day

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According to an artist Irina Blok: “I am a designer based in San Francisco, and I love to doodle during my spare time. I hear many words that amuse me during the day, not sure why, but they are just too funny. Perhaps it’s a combination of being easily amused and having English as a second language. In any case, it’s a good method to escape our sad pandemic reality and deal with stress.

For example, when my mother mentioned she is doing “intermittent fasting,” an image of a person putting a mitten over their head popped into my mind. Then when I heard “thumb drive,” I saw an actual human thumb driving a car. Same with “Bluetooth” (my daughter was asking why someone came up with this name?) – in my head, I saw an actual blue tooth transmitting Wi-Fi from a mouth.

I usually write down funny words, and when I have some free time, I grab my iPad and quickly draw it. My goal is to create a new drawing every day, and I have been sharing them on my Instagram.

I really enjoyed drawing this, and I hope you’ll find these amusing too! Here are the links to my previous posts if you missed them here and here.”

More: Irina Blok, Instagram h/t: boredpanda

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https://youtu.be/NfTTUjo5FJo

What was Hitler’s last day on Earth like?

 

In late April 1945, chaos reigned in Berlin. Years of war had turned former superpower Germany into a battleground, and its cities from strongholds into places under siege. The Red Army had completely circled the city, which now called on elderly men, police, and even children to defend it. But though a battle raged on in the streets, the war was already lost. Adolf Hitler’s time was almost up.

The people of Germany had already taken leave of their Führer. Since a public appearance on his birthday, April 20, he had been disconcertingly absent from the public eye. In reality, he was holed up in a bunker near the Brandenburg Gate in the heart of Berlin, surrounded by his command staff and a few private citizens, including his mistress Eva Braun.

For weeks, bad news drifted into Hitler’s hideaway. As American forces advanced from the west, and the relentless Soviet tanks from the east, Hitler’s generals began to lose their heads. Suspicious of a coup by his closest advisors, Hitler raged and planned and raged again. When he learned that Felix Steiner, one of his SS commanders, had ignored his orders to stage a heroic last stand south of the city, he began to rant and cry, declaring the war lost. Later that day, he consulted with Werner Haase, his private doctor, about the best ways to commit suicide.

By April 29, the situation had taken a turn for the worse. Though Hitler married Eva Braun that morning, people were more interested in discussing suicide than celebrating a wedding.

Hitler had learned that Heinrich Himmler, leader of the SS, had given the Allies an offer of immediate surrender—an offer they promptly refused. Outraged, Hitler demanded that Himmler—once his close and powerful compatriot—be arrested.

Then Hitler heard of the death of Benito Mussolini, his counterpart in Italy. Executed and defiled by an angry mob, the dictator’s end was a powerful warning about what might be in store for the man who had promised his now-devastated country an endless empire. Mussolini’s death set the last 24 hours of life in the bunker into motion.

APRIL 30, 1945

All times are approximate

1 a.m.: Field Marshal William Keitel reports that the entire Ninth Army is encircled and that reinforcements will not be able to reach Berlin.

4 a.m.: Major Otto Günsche heads for the bathroom, only to find Dr. Haase and Hitler’s dog handler, Fritz Tornow, feeding cyanide pills to Hitler’s beloved German Shepherd, Blondi. Haase is apparently testing the efficacy of the cyanide pills that Hitler’s former ally Himmler had provided him. The capsule works and the dog dies almost immediately.

10:30 a.m.: Hitler meets with General Helmuth Weidling, who tells him that the end is near. Russians are attacking the nearby Reichstag. Weidling asks what to do when troops run out of ammunition. Hitler responds that he’ll never surrender Berlin, so Weidling asks for permission to allow his troops to break out of the city as long as their intention never to surrender remains clear.

2:00 p.m.: Hitler and the women of the bunker—Eva Braun, Traudl Junge, and other secretaries—sit down for lunch. Hitler promises them that he’ll give them vials of cyanide if they wish to use them. He apologizes for being unable to give them a better farewell present.

3:30 p.m.: Roused by the sound of a loud gunshot, Heinz Linge, who has served as Hitler’s valet for a decade, opens the door to the study. The smell of burnt almonds—a harbinger of cyanide—wafts through the door. Braun and Hitler sit side by side. They are both dead. Braun has apparently taken the cyanide, while Hitler has done the deed with his Walther pistol.

4:00 p.m.: Linge and the other residents of the bunker wrap the bodies in blankets and carry them upstairs to the garden. As shells fall, they douse the bodies in gas. Joseph Goebbels, minister of propaganda, will kill himself tomorrow. Meanwhile, he holds out a box of matches. The survivors fumble and finally light the corpses on fire. They head down to the bunker as they burn.

On May 1, Germans who can find time between shells to listen to the radio are greeted with the tones of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung—“The Twilight of the Gods.” Hitler, they are told, has “fallen at his command post in the Reich Chancery fighting to the last breath against Bolshevism and for Germany.” The Führer is dead.

What Were Aztec Sacrifices Ritual Actually Like?

They were religious events first. The Aztecs believed that their gods got their sustenance from human sacrifice; and one of the basic duties of Religion is caring for your gods. The most important of these sacrifices were carried out during the 18 monthly festivals of the Solar Year.

One of these, to give you an example, was the Tlacaxipehualiztli, the Festival of the Flaying of Men, celebrated at spring equinox before the rainy season, one of the most brutal and complex.

We know about it thanks to the notes of the Spanish monk Bernardino de Sahagun, who in the 16th century interviewed old Aztec men who were still alive in pre-spanish Mexico and recounted how this festival was held in the Aztec capital:

40 days (or maybe even a year) before the festival, a captive (from war) was designated to impersonate the god Xipe Totec (Our Flayed Lord), and he was celebrated in public as living image of the God until the Festival.

He was taught courtly manners, walking about the city playing a flute, smoking tobacco and being praised by the people and the Tlatoani (the leader).

He was even wed to four young maidens representing goddesses. There were similar representants for other important gods (Tonatiuh, Huitzilopochtli, Quetzalcoatl, Chililico and so forth).

These slaves-gods were to be sacrificed on the main pyramid by cutting out the heart. There were six sacrifice-priests who cut open the slaves breast with an Obsidian knife and then cut out the heart.

After that, the corpses were rolled down the pyramids stairs. The corpses were then flayed and their flesh given to important Aztecs. Moteuczuma would have gotten the best part, the femur. The flesh was then eaten.

Other captives would be clothed in the skin of the flayed corpses and adorned with the ornaments those killed earlier wore as “gods”.

They were paraded through the city by their captors, and finally, on the next day, fought in mock combat against Eagle- or Jaguar-wariors (they only had a mock sword with feathers instead of obsidian).

Once the captive was beaten down, he was sacrificed by a priest wearing the vestments of Xipe Totec.

His heart and blood from his chest was then presented to the sun. The captor would take that blood, and walk around the city to the statues of the gods, feeding them by painting their lips with blood.

The captives corpse was then brought to his captors house, flayed, and cut up, his flesh given away and eaten.

However, there was a special link between captor and captive, and the captor wouldn’t eat of the flesh of his captive.

Poor or sick people would walk through the streets, wearing the skins of the sacrificed, begging.

For twenty days, the priests, too, would wear the flayed skins, often adorned with gold and feathers, until the next festival (Tozoztli) approached.

The skins were then stored in special containers in a cave in the Xipe-Totec temple.

There were certainly festival-like elements, but the main events were very ritualized and everyone involved hat a part to play and knew what to do.

Even the captives were probably not struggling against their fate, but from what I’ve read, walked to the place of their sacrifice willingly, and played their part in the choreography.

The religious part was the most important. The gods needed to be fed.

What Was it Like Living in Occupied France During WWII For the Average Person?

 

In France, the Nazis split France into an occupied and unoccupied zone – occupied being the north, unoccupied, or Vichy, being the south. Nazis would have been living in the occupied zone – you would have had to board one for several days at a time – from 1940, and into the unoccupied zones from 1942.

The economy certainly suffered. By the terms of the armistice, the French had to pay for the costs of their own occupation. Although the French got the Vichy government, the Nazis became less and less interested in collaborating with them as opposed to outright taking advantage of them, particularly in the economic sector. 40% of French industry and 58% percent of state revenues went towards Germany, and in 1943 Germany instituted what’s called the Service du Travail Obligatoire (STO) which was basically a labor draft. You get your papers from the Germans, you get sent to Germany or Poland to go work in a factory. You’re there for however long they want you and you don’t get to go home. It was hugely, hugely resented.

And yes, there were definitely strict rations, which became even stricter as the war went on.

The Vichy government had their own special police, called the milice. The important thing to remember about occupied France was that the Vichy gov’t legitimized itself by asserting that Vichy France was a free France. As a result, you get Vichy police in addition to the Nazi police, you get French civil servants organizing much of the “National Revolution,” etc. (Interestingly, the Vichy government also made Mother’s Day an official holiday.) The idea of French sovereignty was huge, and when the Nazis started to infringe on it by instituting things like the STO and trying to deport French nationals, then you have a problem.

As for clandestine resistance movements, that’s another post entirely, but I’ll go on.

In France you had the external resistance and the internal resistance. The former was led by Charles de Gaulle, who flew to London after the 1940 armistice and basically said that he thought Vichy was stupid and if you agreed with him, go join him. He eventually had 7,000 people in what was called the FFL (Free French Legion, I think) and they fought out of Algeria. They were rather successful. I’m not a military historian by any means, so I have no idea what they actually did, but several governments recognized de Gaulle as the legitimate leader of France and de Gaulle was able to pester Eisenhower into liberating Paris in the summer of 1944.

Then you had the internal resistance, which was much less organized. The FFL tried to hook up with them in 1942 so that all the resistance forces in France could be under de Gaule – it was a success if only because the internal resistance needed the money from the FFL. The CRN (National Resistance Council) that came out of this “merger” was generally successful? I think. They coordinated with the guerilla fighting units to distract German/Vichy forces and kept up morale after the STO/full occupation. They also helped out in the Battle of Normandy.

What Was Life Like For a Jester In The Medieval Era?

Being a true Jester was very hard work. You had to be a one-man entertainment machine.

One had to be able to memorize long-form poetry, tailor jokes to fit the crowd, tactfully tease your patron without committing offense, and zing guests that your patron wasn’t fond of.

You had to play instruments, sing, dance, perform acrobatics, and design and maintain your own motley.

They would learn puppetry, ventriloquism, juggling, balancing, and slight of hand.

The best description I’ve personally heard to describe the life of a licensed Jester was to think of yourself as a living television.

You were to appear immediately when your patrons needed you and provide whatever form of entertainment they desired for as long as they desired.

You would sing a lullaby for the children one moment and recite accounts of bloody wars the next if that’s what was asked of you.

A sharp mind, a strong body, and a gift for improvisation were often requisite for this sort of work.

Secondly, a Jester’s job wasn’t only to make whatever noble employed him laugh. Their position as a member of court was surprisingly complex.

The most famous jesters were probably quite intelligent and quick witted, similar to our best comedians today.

A jester was given the right to say things without deference to authority, but they had to walk a thin line of not offending too many people or pushing the limits too far.

That ability to bypass deference had a lot of uses in a royal court where everyone was obsessed with being “politically correct” if you will.

A jester was able to deliver bad news to King Phillip VI of France about the destruction of his fleet by the English when nobody else dared by allegedly stating that the English “don’t even have the guts to jump into the water like our brave French”

They also provided a check to nobles who were too full of themselves. While it was expected for most in your court to agree with and support the noble, the jester was there to point out flaws.

Elizabeth I of England reprimanded one of her jesters for not being severe enough with her.

William Sommers was liked by Thomas Cromwell for often pointing out the extravagant spending of the English court.

Further, as a member of the court and an employee of the noble, they were generally well paid and granted a decent amount of influence and power.

I'm a 44 year old metal head and I've been jamming out to Babymetal for ten years. As the rest of the music industry has drowning in trash for the last 20 years Babymetal is a breath of fresh air wrapped in metal. FYI the fans of Babymetal are known as The One and no we are not cult.......or are we?

Cajun Sausage Jambalaya

A slow cooker makes Cajun Sausage Jambalaya a snap. Be sure to check the last hour or two to keep the rice from overcooking.

2023 03 29 10 55
2023 03 29 10 55

Prep: 30 min | Cook: 6 hr | Yield: 8 servings (12 cups)

Ingredients

  • 1 pound boneless pork loin roast, cut into 1/2 inch cubes, lean
  • 12 ounces andouille sausage, cut into 1/4 inch slices
  • 2 1/2 cups water
  • 1 1/2 cups rice, medium-grain white
  • 2 yellow onions, chopped
  • 1 bell pepper (green, red, or both), chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/2 cup green onions, chopped

Instructions

  1. Mix all ingredients except green onions in slow 4 to 6 quart slow cooker. Cover and cook on LOW for 5 to 6 hours, or on HIGH for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Watch carefully during the last 1 hour (LOW) or 1/2 hour (HIGH) of cooking to prevent rice from overcooking.
  2. Just before serving, check seasoning and add green onions.

https://youtu.be/DSlFSMPe_vQ

The 10 Deadliest Battles Of The American Civil War

Lincoln Riddle

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The American Civil War is a devastating mark on the history of America. The number of lives lost was substantial, and the social and economic repercussions, though some needed, changed the face and future of the United States forever.

These are a few of the deadliest (and most important) battles of this historic conflict.

Fort Donelson

The Battle of Fort Donelson took place in early February of 1862. Fort Donelson, located near the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers, was a Confederate stronghold backed up by thousands of soldiers. The Union, lead by Ulysses S. Grant, attacked the fort after their initial taking of Fort Henry.

The Union won the battle, and it was a significant victory on their part, as it resulted in the surrender of 12,000 Confederate soldiers and new power in Kentucky and access into Tennessee. The number of casualties? 17,398, mostly Confederates.

Second Bull Run

The second Battle of Bull Run took place in Manassas, Virginia, and evidence of the battle can still be seen today. It was a Confederate victory resulting in 22,180 casualties, with slightly more than half of those casualties occurring on the Union side. This battle is considered one of the most important for the Confederacy.

Antietam

It’s not entirely certain who won the Battle of Antietam, but there’s no doubting the heavy losses on both sides, resulting in 23,100 casualties. The result of the battle was the Confederate retreat across the Potomac, after the battle took place in Maryland, in mid-September, 1862. Not long after the battle occurred, President Abraham Lincoln gave his Emancipation Proclamation, one of the most important events in American history. While this battle certainly isn’t the deadliest on our list, it is significant, as September 17th was the bloodiest day in America’s military history so far.

Stones River

This Tennessee Union victory was not far ahead of the Battle of Antietam in terms of casualties, coming out at 23,515. After a Kentucky battle, Confederate and Union troops clashed outside of Nashville in December of 1862. The battle began on New Year’s Eve, took a small recess on New Year’s Day, and then resumed on January 1st, 1863. It lasted until January 5th when the last of the Confederate troops retreated further into Tennessee. When the troops retreated, the Union did not follow, proclaiming a victory for themselves and awaiting their next opportunity.

Shiloh

Another Tennessee battle, the Battle of Shiloh took place in April of 1862. The Union did win this battle, although they suffered the most casualties. The total number of fatalities was 23,746, and 13,047 of these fatalities were on the Union side. However, despite this, they still won the battle.

The Confederacy lost a chance to overpower the Union troops, after the Confederacy launched an attack on General Ulysses Grant at Pittsburg Landing and the Union called for reinforcements and the Confederates lost their general. After a counterattack planned by Ulysses, the Confederates were forced to retreat, despite their better numbers.

Chancellorsville

The Virginia Battle of Chancellorsville took place nearly a year later, in 1863, taking place in late April and early May. The Confederates took the victory under General Robert E. Lee, and there was a total of 24,000 casualties, approximately, with the Union suffering 14,000 and the Confederacy suffering 10,000. The battle is told in many history books as General Robert E. Lee’s best and most important victory throughout the war. However, the Confederacy also suffered a huge blow during the battle with the death of Stonewall Jackson. The worst part? Jackson was killed by his own men, accidentally wounded at night due to a soldier mistaking his identity.

The Wilderness

In May of 1864, more than 100,000 Union troops went head to head with only 60,000 Confederates. With Ulysses Grant newly in charge of the entire Union army, he planned to attack Robert E. Lee in what was to become a historically tragic battle. The Union lost about 17,666 men and the Confederacy lost about 11,000 for a total of more than 28,000 casualties. Worse yet, one night, with many of the dead and dying lying about the battlefield and camps, a fire broke out over the landscape, killing those who could not escape. The resulting scene of the Battle of the Wilderness has been depicted as one of the most horrific of the war.

Spotsylvania Court House

Taking the third spot on our list, the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House took place near the same time as the Battle of the Wilderness, also in May 1864. Again, there is no clear winner in this battle, but there were almost 30,000 casualties, though more were on the Union side. The battle saw Generals Grant and Lee go at it again, for nearly two weeks, in a series of battles often grouped into one in retelling. Many important military figures on both sides were killed, before the two sides broke it off and the Union continued their march to Richmond, Virginia.

Chickamauga

The Battle of Chickamauga took place in Georgia, in 1863, resulting in 34,624 casualties, split almost evenly between both sides. The Confederate army won, forcing the Union army back into Tennessee. While the battle did not play much of an important role in the overall war and was not significant on either side, it was the second most deadly incident over the Civil War, earning it the second spot on our list of the Civil War’s deadliest, bloodiest battles.

Gettysburg

Arguably one of the most well known and the most easily recognizable battles in the Civil War, the Battle of Gettysburg was also one of the absolute deadliest. The three-day event resulted in more than 50,000 casualties. Regardless of its date almost two years before the war’s end, it was the beginning of the South’s destruction. From this point forward, the South no longer attempted to invade the North with their war efforts, and battles were fought on Southern ground. The battle site, in Pennsylvania, is one of the most popular, if not the singularly most popular, Civil War site in the country.

•David Bowie – vocals
•Stevie Ray Vaughan – guitar

The Complete Guide to What Every Man Should Keep in His Car

 

When I was growing up, I noticed that my father kept his car well-stocked with supplies. A lot of the equipment was for his job busting poachers as a game warden, but most of the things were for emergency situations that could happen to anyone. And there were plenty of times when my dad was able to put those supplies to work.

Be it a maintenance issue or a snowstorm, keeping the following items in your vehicle can save you time and discomfort, and perhaps even your very life, should an emergency arise. Obviously, the necessity of some items depends on the environment in which you live/are driving through (you don’t need an ice scraper in Tampa) and the season (though it’s best just to stock this stuff and keep it stocked, rather than removing/adding things as the seasons change).

1. Paper maps. Sometimes — okay, plenty of times — Google Maps or Waze doesn’t want to cooperate. And if you don’t have service, their reliability is of no import anyway. It’s always a good idea to keep paper maps handy of the areas you’ll be driving through.

2. Snacks/MREs. You never know when you’ll be stranded for long periods of times in your car. And depending on where you are, you could be dozens of miles from the closest source of help. Keep some MREs or granola/power bars in the back of your car to munch on while you wait for a tow truck to come, or to sustain you for a long walk to a gas station to call for help.

3. Cell phone charger/extra battery. Cell phones, and their batteries, are notoriously unreliable and quick-draining in emergency scenarios. It’s like they know when you need them most. Build some redundancy into your car’s emergency kit by keeping both a charger, and an extra battery. No excuses; they’re cheap these days.

4. LifeHammerShould an accident trap you in your car, this rescue tool could save your life in a couple ways. It has a seat belt cutter, a steel hammer head that easily breaks side windows, and a glow-in-the-dark pin for easy retrieval in the dark. Every car should have one easily accessible!

5. Flashlight. Good for providing light at nighttime when 1) putting on a spare tire, 2) jump starting another car, or 3) exchanging insurance information with the clueless driver who rear-ended you at a stop light. Get a Maglite and you can also thump would-be carjackers in the head with it.

6. Portable air compressorWhen your tire is leaking but hasn’t totally blown out, instead of putting on a spare, you can use a portable air compressor to get back on the road. The compressor fills your tire up enough to allow you to drive to a repair shop to get it fixed. It plugs right into your cigarette lighter. Bonus use: no more paying 75 cents to fill up your tires at stingy gas stations.

7. Windshield wiper fluid. Few things are as indispensable as wiper fluid. Dirty windshield, no fluid, and wet, dirty roads? Get used to stopping every 10 minutes to clean the windshield. Always have some in the car for when you inevitably run out and need it most.

8. Roadside flares. When pulled over on the side of the road, you’re basically a sitting duck, hoping that other drivers don’t clip you. It’s especially dangerous at night. Ensure that you and those around you are visible when you pull over by using road flares, or at least a reflective triangle. The old school flaming flares seem to be harder to find these days as people switch to the LED variety.

9. Jumper cablesYou walk out to your car after a long day of work, stick the key into the ignition, give it a turn, and…click, click, click. Crap! You then look up and notice you left the dome light on all day. It happens to the best of us. Car batteries die, so be ready with a set of jumper cables. And even if you never suffer a dead battery, it’s always good to have a set of jumper cables so you can help a damsel (or dude) in distress who needs their car jumped.

10. Tow strap. Get your car unstuck from anything with a tow strap. Attach one end of the strap to the front of the car that you want to pull and the other to the hitch on the back of your car. The stranded driver stays in the dead car, puts it in neutral, and gets freed. Easy as that!

11. Water. For when you’re stranded in Death Valley in the middle of the hottest heat wave on record…or for any other time your car decides to break down on you. Also for when you’ve been on the trail and are parched because you didn’t pack enough in your hiking pack. Always keep a few bottles handy in the trunk.

12. First aid kit. Whether you’re cleaning up a head wound filled with glass shards or fixing a boo boo on your two-year-old, it’s good to have a first aid kit. You can always buy one, but putting together your own in an Altoids tin is more fun.

13. Blankets. Blankets have uses that go beyond emergency situations. It’s always good to have a blanket in the car for snuggling with your gal while you cheer for your team on a cold fall night or for laying it on the ground for a picnic. Get the space-saving (but not very romantic) emergency Mylar variety, or something a little classier like the Paria from Rumpl.

14. Fire extinguisher. Car fires can be especially dangerous because of the flammable liquids coursing through their systems. Keep an extinguisher in the car that can be used not only for your own emergencies, but for others who might be in danger as well. An auto extinguisher is useful, as it will be rated for putting out car-specific fires that are fueled by gasoline and oil.

15. ShovelThere are a couple of instances where a folding shovel might come in handy. The first is when you get stuck in the snow or ice. You can use the shovel to dig some snow out and place some dirt under the tire to get more traction. The second situation is when a car tire gets stuck in a hole or something. You can use the shovel to dig about and create some ramps to help get your car unstuck. Also, it can be used as an improvised weapon.

Winter/Snow-Specific Items

16. Kitty litter. Kitty litter? For traveling with your cats and they need a potty break? Hardly. Kitty litter is extremely useful as a traction device when you’re stuck in the snow or ice after a skid gone wrong. It’s not usually that you’re buried in snow that keeps your car from moving, but the slickness of the surface you’re trying to move on. Throw a handful of kitty litter in front of the tires, and they’ll have some traction to help get you on the road again.

17. Multi-wick candles. If you’re stranded in a broken-down car in the winter, you might need more than just a blanket. An actual heat source will come in mighty handy. Have a multi-wick candle (the single wick kind don’t provide adequate warmth) on hand (and matches!); it can keep your car warm for quite awhile. Candles are expensive, so make your own on the cheap (and you save even more money going scentless).

18. Ice scraper. Don’t be the chump who’s out there scraping their windshield with a credit card at 5AM in the morning. A good ice scraper will set you back just a few bucks from most any convenience store, and it will make clearing your windshield much easier and much faster.

19. Hat and gloves. Along with a blanket, make sure your head and hands stay toasty warm too. The thicker the better here; you aren’t going for fashion, but survival.

20. Tire chains. Not only are tire chains handy in wintery mountain passes, they’re actually required in some states. Don’t get stuck in the mountains; don’t get a ticket for not having chains.

How to Escape a Sinking Car: An Illustrated Guide

Sinking Car 3
Sinking Car 3

Nearly 12% of the bridges in the United States have been deemed “structurally deficient” by the Federal Highway Administration. It’s scary to think that one might collapse while you’re driving over it, plunging your car into the water below. Becoming a victim of bridge collapse is hardly the only way to end up in a submerged vehicle, however. Many drivers simply skid out around a curve, go over a guardrail, and end up in a body of water. According to some studies, over 10,000 water immersion auto accidents happen each year.

Finding yourself in a sinking vehicle can be a terrifying experience and panic can keep you from being able to escape. Memorize these easy-to-follow tips so you can stay calm and get out quickly and safely if this ever happens to you. You don’t have to know every detail, but remember these four words: “Seatbelts. Children. Windows. Out.” 

Stay as calm as possible. When you have gallons of water filling your car, it’s hard not to panic. But when the difference between life and death comes down to a matter of minutes, having a clear head is essential to your survival. Panic is often the reason people drown; they lose the ability to think straight and don’t know what to do. The women in the North Dakota accident called their friends on their cellphones! But panic=death. Hyperventilating and wasting your energy on ineffective actions closes off the easiest options of escape, wastes precious oxygen and shortens the amount of time you’ll be able to hold your breath when making an escape. Just concentrate on what you need to do.

Your best chance of escape is the first 30-120 seconds. In research done on the subject, it was found that in the vast majority of situations a vehicle will actually float for 30-120 seconds before sinking. This is your best chance at escape. Stay calm, but also act quickly. If you have your wits about you, 30 seconds is plenty of time to escape, even with passengers.

Do not wait for the pressure to equalize! When your car starts really sinking, the differential between the pressure outside the car and inside the car makes opening the door impossible. So people are commonly told to wait until the car fills completely with water in order for the pressure inside and outside of it to equalize, at which point you will supposedly be able to open the door. But two shows, Mythbusters and Top Gear have tested this theory and found it wanting. The inside/outside pressure will eventually equalize, but it won’t happen just as soon as the car fills up with water. It takes a bit longer, so long that you’ll likely drown before it happens. It is possible if you are patient, calm, and conserve your oxygen, but don’t count on it.

The door is an option, but not your best option. There are still some experts that say your best chance of escape is through the door right as you hit the water. In our research, however, this theory is losing steam. Sure, you have the ability to escape through a door if it’s done immediately, but there are a few serious downfalls. One, if you try and can’t do it, you’ll have exhausted much of your energy. Then you’ll be panicked, which is bad. Two, it requires a tremendous amount of strength to open a door, even in just a foot of water. You may be able to escape that way, but can your wife and kids? Third, if you escape through the door, the car will pretty much immediately sink, rendering it impossible for passengers to escape. If you’re a strong man, you can go this route, but only as a backup plan and if you’re the only passenger in the vehicle.

Roll down or break a window. Simply put, the window is your best chance for escape. If the waterline has not risen past the windows, try rolling down the window first. Contrary to popular belief, Mythbusters found that automatic windows don’t immediately short circuit underwater. But as the car sinks, the pressure of the water will prevent you from rolling them down. This is even the case with manual windows. Even if you’ve got Popeye-sized biceps, you won’t be be able to overcome the pressure and roll down the windows. You’ll probably just break the crank.

So if rolling down the window doesn’t work, you’ll need to break the side window to escape. This is actually harder than you might think as the windows are made of strong, tempered glass.  While the windshield is easier to shatter, they’re designed to be unbreakable and are laminated with a plastic sheet that could keep you trapped in the car. If you’ve been doing your push-ups and pull-ups, you might be able to break the side window with your elbow or fist. Aim for the corner of the window. But this is extremely difficult. The water significantly slows down the force of your movements. The Mythbusters were unable to break it with a kick from a steel-toed boot. Even if you are able to punch it through, your risk cutting up your hands on the broken glass. Remember the scene at the beginning of Karate Kid II when Cobra Kai sensei John Kreese punched through some car windows? Yeah, your hands could look like that. Wrapping your hand in something can help reduce the chance of slicing them up.

Your best option is to have some sort of device in your car at all times that allows you to easily break your windows in case of an emergency. The LifeHammer or the T3 Tactical Triage and Auto Rescue Tool are two tools you might want to consider keeping in your car. The former has a hardened steel tip while the latter has a spring loaded steel tip window punch, which allows you to break strongly tempered windows with the push of a button. They also have cutting devices that will cut through a seat belt if you find that you can’t unbuckle yourself. Keep them in a place that will be immediately accessible in case of an accident; you don’t want to be rummaging through your glove compartment as your car fills with water.

Escape through the window. If the waterline is still below the car window, escaping from the window will be pretty quick easy. If the waterline is past the window, keep in mind that as soon as you break the window, you’ll be hit with a flood of water. But you should still be able to swim out. Watch Adam from Mythbusters “break” the window and make his escape:

Swim to safety. Push off the car and swim to the surface. If you’re disoriented and don’t know which way is up, look for bubbles and follow the direction they’re going.

What to Do with Passengers

First, don’t open the door to make your escape. While you might be able to get out, the car will quickly fill with water and sink rapidly, possibly trapping your passengers in a watery grave. Instead, roll down or break the window.

Escaping from a sinking car is hard enough by yourself. But what if you have passengers? The first goal is to keep them calm. Take control of the situation by explaining exactly what you’re about to do. When people see there’s a plan, they’ll usually calm down. Make sure they can get out of their seatbelts. If the buckles don’t work, they’ll need a cutting tool. A child can escape from the rear window, but know that they are smaller than front windows. If it’s a small child, pull them up to the front and get them out of your window and follow after.

No wonder Americans are considered to be ignorant and boorish by the rest of the world.

2023 03 29 11 25
2023 03 29 11 25

Of course. Every time you post a funny cat video on TikTok, the Chinese intelligence agents want a full report on the colour of the cat; its age and gender; and its exact location by GPS.

Don’t you know? Every aspect of your personal life that you post on TikTok is a grave matter of national security. Such as what you ate for lunch, snd the new pair of shoes you bought, and the latest video game you’re playing.

Besides, the CCP intelligence officers have nothing better to do but watch millions of TikTok videos all day long.

It’s clearly not working. Trump’s trade war cost the US 1,800 factories and 250,00 jobs. Trump and US experts said that the US would win the trade war in 2 weeks. 2 years later. the US is the one that has suffered massive damage.

Fed research: Trump’s trade tariffs led to losses in billions
Chinese exporters and American importers have been misrepresenting data to avoid paying taxes or losing out on rebates.
Trump’s trade policies have cost thousands of U.S. manufacturing jobs: Action is urgently needed to rebuild the manufacturing sector after the coronavirus pandemic
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A new report by EPI Senior Economist and Director of Trade and Manufacturing Research Robert E. Scott finds that President Trump’s trade policies have failed to curb offshoring—and they have not addressed the root causes of America’s growing trade deficits and the decline of American manufacturing. In addition to the Trump administration’s overall weak trade…

And now Biden would have you believe that the US is going to stop China from producing chips. Well, SMIC just started mass production of 12nm chips with Chinese equipment. SMIC was already producing 7nm chips and no one knew until some reverse engineer took apart a SMIC chip to see what process node was used and discovered, to his surprise, that it was 7nm.

None of the equipment China is currently using stopped working. They are still producing chips.

SMEE just released their 28nm machine to a customer for testing in production. Which means that it will be mass produced this year. With 28nm machines, China can make 7nm chips using all Chinese equipment.

Huawei just came out with 12nm EDA software for designing chips at 12nm. So expect 7nm or smaller for EDA software this year or early next year.

As far as the military is concerned. China is a peer. Which means that China has comparable technology or better. Everything the US uses must be brought by ship. China has zero logistics for their fight with the US should the US start a war.

China’s industrial capacity is more than the US and the EU combined. And China has already stockpiled enough missiles to sink double the number of US ships in existence. So even if the US convinced all NATO nations, Japan, South Korea, Australia to send everything they have. They will all be sunk.

The problem for the US is that each ship has limited ammo. The ships have maximum of 90–120 VLS launch cells. They carry anti-missile missiles and land attack missiles. The mix is about 1/3 to 1/2 anti-missile missiles.

It is SOP to fire 2 missiles per incoming anti-ship missiles.

China has 1,200 frontline fighters like the J-15, J-16, J-20. Each can carry 6 air to air missiles or 4 anti-ship cruise missiles. China has around 500 H6 bombers that can carry 5 anti-ship cruise missiles each. China also has a large drone fleet of around 500. Each drone can carry 4 air to air missiles or 2 anti-ship missiles.

Go look up the number of US destroyers. And do some simple math. You will find that the US doesn’t have enough ships or fighters. Which means that everything the US, NATO, SK, Japan, and Australia will be destroyed or sunk.

Notice I didn’t even bring up Chinese ships or submarines or land launched anti-ship missiles or hypersonic missiles.

So the US government has seriously mis-calculated. The US simply can not win. The current policy will backfire. we can hope that the US won’t be stupid and start a war that the US will lose.

The Countries Bailed Out by China​:

A new report published by the AidData research lab at Virginia’s College of William & Mary sheds some light on the usually nontransparent practice of Chinese bilateral emergency loans. The researchers that also hail from the World Bank, Harvard University and the Kiel Institute for the World Economy identified 22 countries that were bailed out by Chinese loans when they ran into liquidity problems between 2000 and 2021.

main qimg b09ed01416c71f6f29fe1a5e2556958f
main qimg b09ed01416c71f6f29fe1a5e2556958f

Countries that utilized these loans in an especially high number of years, i.e. rolled over their loans into subsequent years include Pakistan, Mongolia, Argentina and Sri Lanka. The latter country tapped China’s central bank for the first time in 2021 before defaulting on its debt anyways in 2022. Argentina and Mongolia were also identified by the report as countries that have been in dire financial distress since the early 2010s and were using China as a lender of last resort despite the country’s loan terms being less favorable than lower-interest bailouts offered by the IMF or the U.S. Fed. The list of Chinese bailouts also includes countries experiencing major inflation events, like aforementioned Pakistan, Turkey and Egypt.

Bailout amounts provided by China remained quite low in the 2000s and early 2010s, before shooting up from 2015 onwards, climbing to a total of $100 billion for the two decades. The two most common ways in which these loans work is through a liquidity swap with the Chinese Central Bank – where most of the outstanding balances of around $40 billion were located as of 2021 – or through credit lines from Chinese state-owned banks. Three countries, Venezuela, South Sudan and Ecuador, received prepayments on goods they were to deliver to China.

https://youtu.be/nhWXUowhInA

The West is stuck between the public sentiment which it contrived and the reality on the ground, Alastair Crooke writes.

Consequential Strategic Change – Upon leaving his meeting with Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping said to Putin, “Change is coming that hasn’t happened in 100 years – and we are driving this change together”.

The ‘Entente’ was sealed during hours of talks over two days, and amidst a plethora of signed documents. Two powerful states have formed a duality that, in marrying a gigantic manufacturing base to the pre-eminent raw materials supplier and the advanced weaponry and diplomatic nous of Russia, leaves the U.S. in the shade. A seat in the shadows (assumed through volitation, or inability to contemplate such radical transition) reflects the U.S. with its back turned towards participation in the unfolding multipolar world.

With the U.S. in thrall to hegemony, the emergence of a global trifurcation is inevitable – including the three spheres of trade war: Eurasia, led by Russia China; Global South influenced by India – and with the U.S. dominating over the EU and Anglo-Sphere.

But that was not the essence of what President Xi meant by ‘change’; trade, military interchange and monetary system change were already ‘baked in’. What Xi and Putin are suggesting is that we must cast aside the old spectacles of western orientalism, by which we have been accustomed to view the world, and to think it differently and in diverse ways.

Transformation is never easy. How is the U.S. political class reacting? =It is flailing about wildly. It is deeply spooked by the manifestation of this new entente. It has lashed out, as usual, with a propaganda outpouring: Putin got little from Xi’s visit, bar pomp and ceremony; Xi’s was a ‘bed-side call’ on an ailing patient; Russia humiliated by becoming a Chinese resource colony –and to top it all, the summit failed to find a Ukraine resolution.

All of this propaganda is nonsense, of course. These are canards thrown to the winds. Washington understands how compelling is the Chinese narrative: China seeks harmony, peace and a meaningful way of life for all. America, however, stands for domination, divide and contain – and bloody, colonial-type forever wars (in the China meme).

Xi’s narrative has traction – not just in the ‘refuse-to-be-aligned’ world, but significantly within ‘Other America’, too. It even resonates a tad in otherwise wholly ‘tin-eared’ Europe.

The problem here, is that these ‘two Americas’ – the entitled Oligarchy and ‘Other America’ – simply were not able to discourse with each other, and have withdrawn into separate spheres: The western tech-platforms (such as Twitter) were knowingly configured so as to precisely not listen to ‘Other America’. And to cancel, or de-platform, contrarian voices. Today’s anti-Russian schema is yet another derivative of ‘nudge psychology’, originally trialled during Lockdown: Then ‘Science’ (as determined by the governments) offered public ‘certainty’, and at the same time stoked fear that any non-compliance with government rules might lead to death.

The moral certainty (claimed from following the ‘Science’) gave justification to judge harshly, condemn and dismiss people who in any way questioned Lockdown. Today’s geo-political psychological ploy – a derivative from the Lockdown precedent – is to ‘paste’ to the geo-political sphere the woke position of zero tolerance towards questioning supposed principles ‘that are inviolable’ (such as Human Rights). Thus, the schema uses the narrative ‘clarity’ of Russia’s ‘illegal, unprovoked and criminal invasion of Ukraine’ to give the western public the satisfying sense of righteousness needed to similarly judge harshly, oust from employment, and publicly denigrate any who expressed support for Russia.

This is viewed as an Intelligence Success, by contributing to the objective of maintaining NATO ‘burden sharing’ – and in ensuring across-the-board western expression of ‘moral outrage’ at all things Russian.

The West’s ‘Certainty Ploy’ may have worked, in that it deceptively has kindled a moral fury within a large segment of public opinion. Yet it can also be a trap – by firing up such emotionally charged propaganda; the force of the latter now limits western options (at a time when the circumstances of the Ukraine war are much changed from what had been expected). The West is now trapped by that public opinion that views any compromise that is not one of full Russian capitulation to violate its ‘inviable principles’.

The notion of exposing differing facets to a conflict (which lies at the crux to mediation), providing differing perspectives coming into view, becomes intolerable when set against ‘black and white’ righteousness. Xi and Putin are held by the western media to be so morally deficient that many fear being scorned for being on the wrong side of the ‘moral’ fault line on such a contentious issue.

Notably, this ploy does not work in the rest of world, where wokism has little traction.

There is however a substrata of Ruling Class worry about this denial technique. Two real issues arise: First, can America survive absent U.S. hegemony? What bonds, what national meaning, what vision could substitute to hold such a diverse nation together? Is ‘modernity as the winner of history’ convincing in the context of contemporary cultural degeneracy? If today’s scouring ‘modernity’ comes only at the cost of personal loneliness and loss of self-esteem (which is the recognised symptom of alienation arising from severance from community-roots), is technological ‘modernity’ then worth it? Or can some return to earlier values become the guiding prerequisite to a different mode of modernity? – one that works with the grain, instead of against the grain of cultural embeddedness.

This is the key question posed by Presidents Xi and Putin (through the civilisational nation-state concept).

Secondly, the U.S. has morphed from being a military to essentially a rent-seeking financialised hegemon. What price the enduring U.S. business prosperity should the U.S. lose dollar hegemony? Dollar ‘privilege’ has long sustained U.S. prosperity. But American sanctions, asset seizures, and new monetary arrangements pose the question: Is the global order changed so much that dollar hegemony, beyond the U.S. and its dependencies, is no longer sustainable?

The western ruling classes are certain of the answer: Political and dollar hegemony are interconnected. Keeping power, enriching the ‘golden billion’, means sustaining both – even as the Élites plainly can see that the American narrative is losing traction around the world, and states are migrating to new trading blocs.

That ‘Other America’ is not so sure they see the carnage associated with America’s endless interventions as ‘worth the candle’. There is too, an undercurrent of thought that a financial system, dependent on ever more and ever bigger ‘fixes’ of financial stimulant, either is healthy (in creating inequalities), or that its’ pyramiding leverage can be sustained over the long term.

Some years ago when Nathan Gardels was speaking

with Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew, the latter said

: “For America to be displaced … by an Asian people long despised and dismissed with contempt as decadent, feeble, corrupt and inept, is emotionally very difficult to accept”. Yew predicted, “The sense of cultural supremacy of the Americans will make this adjustment most difficult”.

Equally, for China, which has had a long and continuous history as a great power, to be blocked by a ‘people from nowhere’ is intolerable.

l’Entente is a bitter pill for the West. For a generation, separating Russia from China has been a primordial U.S. goal – as originally prescribed by Zbig Brzezinski: To contain both Russia and China through exacerbating regional disputes (Ukraine, Taiwan) was the zero-sum-game, with Russia the first target (to compel a pivot back to the West through economic implosion),and then move on to contain China – but China alone. (Yes, some in the West believed

that a Russian pivot westwards was very feasible).

A former U.S. Assistant Secretary of State, Wess Mitchell, wrote

in the National Interest magazine: To Prevent China Grabbing Taiwan: Stop Russia in Ukraine! Simply put, Mitchell’s point was: “Were the U.S. to inflict enough pain on Putin for his gamble in Ukraine”, then Xi implicitly would be contained.

So, containing Russia via Ukraine was ‘it’: “If the United States is going to threaten catastrophic sanctions against Russia over Ukraine, they better damn well be catastrophic, because the credibility of the U.S.-led financial system for punishing large-scale aggression – is on the line”, Mitchell warned. “The United States will only get one chance to demonstrate that credibility—and Ukraine is it”.

Mitchell continued,

“The good news in all of this is that Ukraine has given the U.S. a momentary, and perishable, window to act decisively and not only deal with the situation in Ukraine – but dissuade a move against Taiwan… The impact of Putin’s brutality in galvanizing European burden-sharing is a game-changer for U.S. global strategy. With Germany spending more

in coming years on defense than Russia ($110 billion annually vs. $62 billion), the United States will be able to focus more of its available conventional forces on deterring China”.

‘A momentary window’? But here was the egregious mismatch: the U.S. was betting on ‘the perishable moment’, but Russia was preparing for a long-term war. The financial sanctions didn’t work; Russia’s isolation didn’t happen; and the containment strategy contributed rather to destabilising the global financial system to the detriment of the West.

The Biden Administration had bet all on a containment strategy intended to avoid a two-front war – a strategy that has not worked out, as expected. More than that, the shooting down of the Chinese balloon and the ensuing anti-Chinese battle cries emanating from all quarters in the U.S. convinced the Chinese that their earlier, November attempt at détente with U.S. and Europe at the Bali G20 was ‘dead in the water’.

China re-calibrated; and prepared for war. (At minimum, a sanction Cold War, but ultimately, for Hot War). Full steam ahead with l’Entente. The Brzezinski divide and rule strategy had been holed below the waterline and sunk.

The West is now painted into a corner: It cannot sustain war on both Russia and China, yet its overblown, deliberately deceitful, manipulation of public opinion to create western ‘cohesion’ makes de-escalation almost impossible.

The public in the U.S. and Europe now sees Russia and China in the darkest shades of the Manichaean Demiurge. They have been repeatedly told that Russia stands at the cusp of total collapse, and that Ukraine ‘is winning’. Most Americans, most Europeans believe this. Many have come to revile these new adversaries.

The U.S. leadership class cannot back down. Yet, it has not the means to wage a two-front war. The trap consists in propaganda stemming from an earlier Lockdown schema that was designed to frighten, and dis-inform the public. A principal aim of which was to make doubt or scepticism appear morally irresponsible within public discourse. Similarly, the new schema of western public control by which Presidents Xi and Putin are made to look so morally deficient that much of the public fears to criticise the war on Russia – has boomeranged. That ‘certainty’ means that it would be morally irresponsible to back out of a war – even one that is being lost. The war now must proceed to the defeat of the Ukrainian regime – an outcome far more humiliating than a negotiated end would have been. But public opinion will not allow anything less than Putin’s humiliation. The West is stuck between the public sentiment which it contrived and the reality on the ground.

In this way, the West fell into its own ‘Certainty Trap’.

The full movie “Strange Brew”

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Counting the minutes as the United States reaches maximum insanity and just snaps

Things are approaching critical mass.

let’s hope that the US will not panic and accept the truth that everyone is finally beginning to see, which is: USA is the No. 1 Terrorist organization on this planet, our home.

But I don’t see that coming. It would be naïve to think that they will let China do what they are doing. The US will fight for their unipolar hegemony.

However, it is surprising how stupid the US is acting… (no need to explain that further in this audience) But the fact that such stupid people have access to all kind of weapons, is very worrying.

In the last days I have already noticed a new level of emotionalized propaganda in the German media, “explaining” in all “newspapers” the ever-boring story of The Good and The Evil. The language is becoming more infantile and desperate, almost embarrassing (Fremdscham) 
I am afraid they are preparing their people for a justification of something …. very very stupid. I hope not.

So far Russia and China have acted quite cleverly, not responding to the various childish provocations. Instead they behaved like adults and were surprisingly successful in de-escalation. They show strength and wisdom at the same time. 

They seem to be prepared for anything the US will do. They know the US empire is ending and they even seem to be aware that they should not humiliate the Empire (something they could do very well, if they wanted to). 

May peace prevail. 


Posted by: HansJuergen | Mar 20 2023 11:07 utc | 4

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Nicknamed the “cradle” of integrated circuits, EDA is a widely used software in the sector and significant to the entire chip-designing process. /CFP

Huawei has developed electronic design automation (EDA) tools for chips produced at and above 14-nanometer technology with domestic partners, marking a major breakthrough for China’s semiconductor industry.

Nicknamed the “cradle” of integrated circuits, EDA is a widely used software in the sector and significant to the entire chip-designing process.

The Chinese tech giant has achieved localization of EDA tools above 14nm in the chip field and will complete comprehensive verification this year, Huawei confirmed on March 24, citing the remarks made by its rotating chairman Xu Zhijun on February 28.

Xu also said the company has developed 78 tools related to chip hardware and software.

China has long relied on U.S. companies such as Cadence and Synopsys for high-end electronic design automation tools.

Chips produced at the 14nm level were first introduced in smartphones in the mid-2010s and are two to three generations behind leading-edge technology, but it still marks a breakthrough.

The progress is part of a broader push by Huawei to develop domestic development tools for hardware, software and chips amid the U.S. governmental restrictions.

Xu further mentioned that although the company has achieved many breakthroughs in product development tools over the past three years, it still faces formidable challenges, thus Huawei will redouble its efforts to attract more global talents to achieve a strategic breakthrough in the area.

Caramelized Onion Smothered Pork Chops

Caramelized Onion Smothered Pork Chops are exceptionally delicious. They will most certainly become a part of your meal rotation.

caramelized onion smothered pork chops
caramelized onion smothered pork chops

Ingredients

  • 4 boneless pork chops, with as much fat removed as possible
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground sage
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 6 tablespoons butter
  • 2 cups thinly sliced onion
  • 4 teaspoons granulated sugar

Instructions

  1. Season both sides of pork chops with garlic powder, sage, thyme, salt and pepper.
  2. Melt 4 tablespoons butter in a large skillet over medium heat, evenly coating the bottom of the skillet.
  3. Increase heat to medium-high. Cook both sides of chops for 10-15 minutes until lightly browned.
  4. Push chops to outside edges of skillet. Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons butter in the center of the skillet and add onions to the center of the skillet, sprinkling with sugar. Replace skillet cover and cook for 10 minutes, frequently tossing and stirring onions with a spatula. Onions are caramelized when tender and medium-brown in color. DO NOT let the onions burn!
  5. Check chops for doneness before serving. They will be done when a fork piercing the thickest part of the chop draws clear juice. If the juice is pink, cook chops a bit longer until done.
  6. Serve pork chops with caramelized onions piled on top.

Xi and Putin Have the Most Consequential Undeclared Alliance in the World

It’s become more important than Washington’s official alliances today.

By , a professor of government at the Harvard Kennedy School.
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Chinese President Xi Jinping’s decision to visit Moscow this week in his first trip abroad since his reelection comes as no surprise to those who have been watching carefully. When one steps back and analyzes the relationship between China and Russia, the brute facts cannot be denied: Along every dimension—personal, economic, military, and diplomatic—the undeclared alliance that Xi has built with Russian President Vladimir Putin has become much more consequential than most of the United States’ official alliances today.

Many observers still find this alliance hard to believe. As former U.S. Defense Secretary James Mattis put it in 2018, Moscow and Beijing have a “natural nonconvergence of interests.” Geography, history, culture, and economics—all the factors that students of international relations focus on—give both nations many reasons to be adversaries.

On today’s map, large swaths of what was in earlier centuries Chinese territory are now within Russia’s borders. This includes Moscow’s key naval base in the Pacific, Vladivostok—which on Chinese military maps is still labeled by its Chinese name, Haishenwai. The 2,500-mile border between the two nations has repeatedly seen violent clashes, most recently in 1969. On the Russian side, the land east of the Ural Mountains is full of natural resources but has a population of just 32 million people, while on the Chinese side, hundreds of millions of people live with few natural resources.

On the broader canvas of history, Russia was a prime antagonist in China’s “century of humiliation,” joining forces with Western imperialist powers to put down the Boxer Rebellion and forcing China to sign eight “unequal treaties” during the second half of the 19th century. In recent decades, the status inversion resulting from Russia’s decline from its position as the second superpower in a bipolar world, combined with China’s meteoric rise, must cause a leader as status-conscious as Putin some consternation.

But while history deals the hands, human beings play the cards, and Xi has defied expectations to masterfully build a relationship with Putin that matters deeply to both. Putin was the first leader Xi visited after becoming China’s president in 2012. Since then, the two have held 40 one-on-one meetings, twice as often as either has met with any other world leader. Putin calls Xi his “best and bosom friend,” who, as Putin noted in 2018, is the only world leader with whom he has celebrated his birthday. When Xi awarded Putin China’s Friendship Medal in 2018, he called the Russian president his “best, most intimate friend.”

In recent years, Sino-Russian economic ties have grown. Even before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, China had displaced the United States and Germany to become Russia’s No. 1 trading partner and top buyer of Russian oil and gas. In the past year, China has provided an economic lifeline for Russia, buying everything the West won’t and helping Russia maintain access to financial markets amid sweeping Western sanctions. Chinese purchases of Russian energy last year were up 50 percent from 2021 levels while bilateral trade hit record highs. China was not only the world’s largest exporter to Russia in 2022, but it also accounted for the largest year-over-year increase in export volume to Russia of any country in the world. Last month, the yuan overtook the dollar as the most traded currency on the Moscow Exchange for the first time ever, representing almost 40 percent of total trading volume.

And despite Western sanctions intended to eliminate Russia’s access to critical technologies, Chinese exports of integrated circuits to Russia doubled in 2022. Indeed, in every area where China can support Russia without incurring major costs to itself—unlike lethal arms sales to Russia that violate U.S. sanctions, which CIA Director William Burns recently said China was “considering” but “reluctant to provide”—it has done so.

Furthermore, while many Americans discount Sino-Russian military cooperation, as a former Russian national security advisor has put it to me, China and Russia have the “functional equivalent of a military alliance.” China regularly participates in joint military exercises with Russia that dwarf those the United States conducts with its much more publicized “strategic partner,” India. It sent soldiers to Russia’s annual Vostok exercises in September and conducts joint air and naval exercises on a near-monthly basis. Russian and Chinese generals’ staffs now have candid, detailed discussions about the threat U.S. nuclear modernization and missile defenses pose to each of their strategic deterrents. While, for decades, Russia was careful to withhold its most advanced technologies in arms sales to China, it now sells the best it has, including S-400 air defenses. The two countries share intelligence and threat assessments as well as collaborate on rocket engine research and development. More recently, Beijing and Moscow have collaborated to compete with Washington in a new era of space competition. 

Their diplomatic coordination has also ramped up as Xi and Putin become increasingly convinced Washington is seeking to undermine their regimes. The two countries almost always vote together in the United Nations Security Council and reinforce each other’s political narratives. For instance, China has repeatedly refused to call Russia’s invasion of Ukraine a war, instead labeling it an “issue,” “situation,” or “crisis.” Its diplomats and propaganda megaphones echo even Russia’s most extreme claims about the war, blaming NATO for ignoring Russia’s “legitimate concerns” and suggesting the United States wants to “fight till the last Ukrainian.”

Neither leader has made a secret of his ambitions to end U.S. hegemony and create what Xi called on Monday a “new model of major-country relations.” Their success in forming new alignments of nations—including the so-called BRICS bloc and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, whose citizens make up two-thirds of the world’s population—demonstrates that their declarations are not merely aspirational. While U.S. talking points highlight the world’s condemnation of Putin’s invasion, Chinese and Russian diplomats note that many countries have not joined in, including the world’s largest country, the world’s largest democracy, Africa’s leading democracy, and most nations in the global south. 

An elementary proposition in international relations 101 states: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” By confronting both China and Russia simultaneously, the United States has helped create what former U.S. National Security Advisor Zbigniew Brzezinski called an “alliance of the aggrieved.” This has allowed Xi to reverse Washington’s successful “trilateral diplomacy” of the 1970s that widened the gap between China and the United States’ primary enemy, the Soviet Union, in ways that contributed significantly to the U.S. victory in the Cold War. Today, China and Russia are, in Xi’s words, closer than allies.

Since Xi and Putin are not just the current presidents of their two nations but leaders whose tenures effectively have no expiration dates, the United States will have to understand that it is confronting the most consequential undeclared alliance in the world.

I have taken a vacation in China recently( Tianjin and Xiamen ).

China is so beautiful, peaceful, very modern, super safe . Chinese cities are very clean , very vibrant and life is very convenient . The public transportation systems are superb and most advanced . You almost don’t see any homeless people on the streets or anybody smoking marijuana . Chinese people are friendly, nice and helpful . China is not perfect and needs a lot of improvements but she has really caught up with the best countries in the world and has even exceeded some of them.

I hope that the mayor of LA (where I live )can do something about the homeless ,beggars and people with mental illness who live on the streets , build some shelters for them and don’t allow them to set tent everywhere, making LA like a shithole.

I hope that the mayor of NYC ( where my child lives ) can rinse NYC subways thoroughly , so there will be no more human shits and urine, no more rats and mice, no more cockroaches , no more dirty/crazy people living there.

If China can make their cities/ subways/train stations/air ports super clean, why can’t America ? Don’t forget that many people still believe USA is the most powerful country in the world ,right ? A first class country should be safe and clean , correct ?

P.S. some people asked me that if China is supposed to be very crowded ,why there are so few people in my photos ? I agree that many cities of China are very crowded , but there are still some locations with very few people. I didn’t choose place without people on purpose to take pictures. I saw nice places ,I stopped and I just took pictures.

COVERT INTEL: ISRAEL ON VERGE OF POLITICAL & SOCIAL COLLAPSE

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The state of Israel is literally on the verge of political and social collapse tonight (Sunday) after Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu fired Defense Minister Gallant who opposes changes in the country’s Judicial Powers.  The Israeli Army is already suffering DESERTIONS  as the Army sides with the fired Defense Minister!

Netanyahu and his allies say the plan will restore a balance between the judicial and executive branches and rein in what they see as an interventionist court with liberal sympathies. But critics say the constellation of laws will remove the checks and balances in Israel’s democratic system and concentrate power in the hands of the governing coalition.

This has become far more than a political/legal matter.  The citizenry and institutions of state are engaging in almost outright rebellion against these proposed moves.

Change the world

There's a RSOTM video in which Russian soldiers have to walk through an Ukrainan trench they conquered. They have to walk, they cannot avoid this even if you see them doing it gingerly, over the bodies of Ukrainian soldiers, collapsed face down into the cold mud. Imagine seeing your son, husband or father killed like that. That's what war is - all for the greed and callousness of some "Western" millionaires and billionaires. And it was ever so. I do not worship Xi and Putin, but I admire them and we can but hope they will change the world.

Posted by: Anthony | Mar 20 2023 12:44 utc | 18

Operational update

Scorched earth, war crimes, Avdeevka and the Chinese

RUSSIANS GRAB UKRAINE DRONE – OPERATING VIA STARLINK!

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2023 03 27 11 13
2023 03 27 11 13

The Russian Army has downed an attack Drone, operated by Ukraine, but not by direct radio control; this drone is operated through Elon Musk’s STARLINK Internet Satellite Service! Musk has previously said his company would not be party to any war operations. Now the world sees otherwise.

In the photo above, taken today, 26 March 2023, the square shaped panel atop the drone is the STARLINK antenna.

For months, Ukraine has been using radio controlled drones to attack and kill Russian soldiers. Russia engaged electronic warfare, which jammed those radio signals.

Clearly, Ukraine decided to provide drone control not by radio signal, but by means of the satellite Internet terminal Starlink.

The drone has a rather compact design, however, despite all the efforts of the Armed Forces, the drone was still successfully hit by the anti-drone gun and is now the trophy of the Russian military.

Now the drone can be carefully studied by the Russian military to develop more effective means of counteracting UAVs of such design.

Geopolitical Rumblings Leave U.S. Behind

Over the last month we have seen astonishing geopolitical developments.

In February China publicly lambasted U.S. hegemony, launched a global security initiative and offered a peace plan for Ukraine.

On March 10 China mediated an agreement which restored relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran.

On March 15 Moscow rolled out the red carpet for the Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.

Yesterday al-Assad and his wife Asma arrived in the UAE for talks with Sheikh Mohammed

Also yesterday Iran and Iraq signed a security cooperation agreement that will stop the CIA sponsored Kurdish activities against Iran.

Also yesterday King Salman of Saudi Arabia invited the President of Iran to a visit in Riyadh.

For the last 30 years the U.S. considered the Middle East as its backyard. Twenty years ago it illegally invaded Iraq and caused 100,000nds of death and decades of chaos. Now China, by peaceful means,  changed the balance in the Middle East within just one month.

Today China’s President Xi arrived in Moscow for three days of talks with Russia’s President Putin. An article by President Putin was published in the People’s Daily while Russian media published a signed article by President Xi.

The U.S. is afraid that China’s peace initiative for Ukraine will gain ground. It has openly come out against a cease-fire and peace talks. I had thought that was for Ukraine to decide?

It is likely that Putin will publicly endorse the Chinese peace plan while the U.S. is paranoid that peace might indeed happen. It may even want to sabotage the Saudi Iranian deal.

China’s people are by the way the most happy people in the world.

Xi and Putin are now running the multilateral global show. Biden and the hapless ‘unilateral’ people around him are left aside.

Posted by b on March 20, 2023 at 10:21 UTC | Permalink

Russian Su-35 Fighter Jet Intercepts Two US B-52 Bombers Over Baltic Sea – Defense Ministry

From HERE

MOSCOW (Sputnik) - Russian fighter jet Su-35 prevented two US strategic bombers B-52 from reaching the Russian border on Monday over the Baltic Sea, the Russian Defense Ministry's National Defense Control Center (NDCC) reported on Monday.

"On March 20, 2023, the radars of the air defense forces of the Western Military District on duty detected two air targets flying in the direction of the state border of the Russian Federation over the Baltic Sea. The targets were identified as two strategic bombers B-52N of the US Air Force," the NDCC said.

In order to identify and prevent breach of the state border, a Su-35 fighter from the air defense forces of the Western Military District was scrambled. After that, the crew of the fighter occupied the established zone of duty in the air.

"After the removal of foreign military aircraft from the Russian state border, the Russian fighter returned to its base airfield," the center said.[.]

The latest scramble comes days after the Russian Defense Ministry confirmed on March 14 that a US MQ-9 Reaper drone crashed in the Black Sea as a result of its own extreme maneuvers after violating airspace and carrying out its flight with transponders turned off.

The chickenhawks are Testing, Testing. These diversions will not make the banking crisis disappear. And Xi is on a visit to Moscow

Posted by: Likklemore | Mar 20 2023 21:19 utc | 137

French Gov’t BANS Cartoon Video About Ukraine War – The Cartoon is “Spot-on”

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The government of France has officially BANNED the one minute video below, which describes the Ukraine War perfectly, calling it “Russian Propaganda.”  Sorry Macron, the truth hurts!

Here’s the cartoon by a French independent journalist group called “BarracudaS”

 

 

Meanwhile, the world grows weary of Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelensky, and his alleged Cocaine use.   It’s becoming public mockery now, as evidenced by this “Mobile Tribute to Volodymyr Zelensky”:

 

And when the world isn’t poking fun at President Cocaine, they’re mocking his alleged Money Laundering:

ZelenskyLaunderingMoney
ZelenskyLaunderingMoney

I hear rumors that schools  are even teaching this in Geometry:

Ukraine yourMoneyGone
Ukraine yourMoneyGone

 

While we’re all laughing, this Zelensky has now resorted to having Priests arrested, in church, DURING MASS:

 

ISRAEL ON VERGE OF POLITICAL & SOCIAL COLLAPSE

The state of Israel is literally on the verge of political and social collapse tonight (Sunday) after Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu fired Defense Minister Gallant who opposes changes in the country’s Judicial Powers.  The Israeli Army is already suffering DESERTIONS  as the Army sides with the fired Defense Minister!

Netanyahu and his allies say the plan will restore a balance between the judicial and executive branches and rein in what they see as an interventionist court with liberal sympathies. But critics say the constellation of laws will remove the checks and balances in Israel’s democratic system and concentrate power in the hands of the governing coalition.

This has become far more than a political/legal matter.  The citizenry and institutions of state are engaging in almost outright rebellion against these proposed moves.  Here’s how serious things have gotten TONIGHT:

Iran Moving MUCH More Military Gear to Azerbaijan Border

2023 03 27 11 16
2023 03 27 11 16

Iran has increased the pace of moving military hardware toward its border with Azerbaijan.

All the latest type of military gear are now quite visible on the Iranian side of the Border.

Meanwhile, the Russian Southern Military District announced crews of army aviation helicopters Mi-8MTV-5 and Ka-52 performed training flights in the mountains of Armenia.

Russia and Iran are preparing to defend Armenia from Azerbaijan, which wants to grab the southern portion of Armenia so as to cut Iran off from Armenia, and cut Armenia off from the rest of the world.

Neither Russia nor Iran will allow that.

African Nation CHAD has “Nationalized” Assets of Exxon-Mobil

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The government of Chad has decided to nationalize all the assets of the American oil and gas company Exxon Mobile located in the country.  The decision to nationalize the assets of the American company
was made by the interim President of Chad, Mahamat Idriss Deby.

The nationalization of a private company means that all assets are now owned by the government. While this used to happen in the 1960s and 1970s, it hasn’t happened recently and doesn’t conform to usual legal frameworks in the sector, say energy experts.

Chad began producing oil in 2003 and Exxon has been operating in the country for several decades. It was running the Doba oil project in Chad.

The move could scare away investors from West Africa at a time of growing global energy demand and a decline in foreign investments in the region, said Olufola Wusu, a partner and head of the oil and gas desk at Megathos Law Practice based in Nigeria.

“Expropriation of any sort without compensation is not a step in the right direction, because it is going to erode investor confidence in that particular country and once investors are jittery, they pull back their investment, so regulators and leaders in Africa need to play by the rules,” he said.

The government’s decision came after a long dispute between Exxon and Chad, which rejected the sale of the company’s operations last year.

Tensions have risen in the West African nation in recent months with unprecedented protests mounting against the government of President Mahamat Idriss Deby.

Deby was declared the head of state after his father’s death in April 2021. The son’s succession did not follow Chad’s constitutional line of succession. Opposition political parties at the time called the handover a coup d’etat, but later agreed to accept Deby as interim leader for 18 months.

Chad is about to learn the reality of America:  Capital (money) follows return.  The Flag follows the money.  Troops follow the flag.

The new young “president” of Chad should prepare for 500 and 1000lb democracy installments.   I advise the interim President that air travel is not recommended. American special forces are in at least 9 African countries.

Sunday Morning, Norway Sounds ALERT: Advanced Russian Subs & Missiles Detected, North Sea

2023 03 27 11 h18
2023 03 27 11 h18

Norwegian Navy Commander: We have detected very modern Russian submarines with very advanced missiles in their arsenal in the North Sea, and this threatens the security of Europe and the United States.

Norway has not yet given further details about which submarines, but the “rumors” say Borei Class.

Borei class includes a compact and integrated hydrodynamically efficient hull for reduced broadband noise and the first ever use of pump-jet propulsion on a Russian nuclear submarine.

Russian news service TASS claimed the noise level is to be five times lower when compared to the third-generation nuclear-powered Akula-class submarines and two times lower than that of the U.S. Virginia-class submarines. The acoustic signature of Borei is significantly stealthier than that of the previous generations of Russian SSBNs, but it has been reported that their hydraulic pumps become noisier after a relatively short period of operation, reducing the stealth capabilities of the submarine.

The Borei submarines are approximately 170 meters (560 ft) long, 13 meters (43 ft) in diameter, and have a maximum submerged speed of at least 46 kilometers per hour (25 kn; 29 mph). They are equipped with a floating rescue chamber designed to fit in the whole crew.

Smaller than the Typhoon class, the Boreis were initially reported to carry 12 missiles but are able to carry four more due to the decrease in mass of the 36-ton Bulava SLBM (a modified version of the Topol-M ICBM) over the originally proposed R-39UTTH Bark. Cost was estimated in 2010 at some ₽23 billion (USD$734 million, equivalent to US$863 million in 2020 terms.  In comparison the cost of an Ohio-class SSBN was around US$2 billion per boat (1997 prices, equivalent to over US$3 billion in 2020 terms.

Each Borei is constructed with 1.3 million components and mechanisms. Its construction requires 17 thousand tons of metal which is 50% more than the Eiffel Tower. The total length of piping is 109 km and the length of wiring is 600 km. Ten thousand rubber plates cover the hull of the boat.

Each Borei submarine is armed with 16 × RSM-56 Bulava SLBMs with 6 MIRV warhead.   Those 16 Submarine Launched Ballistic Missiles (SLBM) missiles with 6 warheads each, equals 96 total nuclear bombs, each of which is independently targetable.   Each warhead is believed to be either 100 or 150 kiloton blast yield.

‘We’re dividing the world’: NZ no fan of AUKUS submarines

By Matthew Knott

A senior New Zealand politician has raised concerns about Australia’s plan to acquire a fleet nuclear-powered submarines, saying the AUKUS pact will make the region less safe and limit military co-operation between the two allies.

Defence Minister Richard Marles told parliament on Tuesday that nuclear-powered submarines would form part of Australia’s “contribution to the collective security of the neighbourhood in which we live” and would improve relations with its Asia-Pacific neighbours.

Gerry Brownlee, foreign affairs spokesman for New Zealand’s centre-right National Party, said he was concerned AUKUS was painting China as an “enemy” that needed to be contained.

New Zealand is a proud nuclear-free state that has formally declared its airspace and territorial waters as nuclear-free zones.

Asked if the nuclear-powered submarine fleet would make the region safer, Brownlee told AAP: “No, I don’t think it does.

“What I don’t like is the concept that we just seem to be dividing the world

Labor MP questions AUKUS deal

The Member for Fremantle Josh Wilson’s concerns include construction taking longer and costing more and what to do with nuclear waste.

He said he was concerned Australia’s nuclear-powered submarines would not be able to dock in New Zealand under its nuclear-free policy.

“We’ve only got one alliance. It is with Australia,” said Brownlee, who previously served as foreign minister and defence minister.

“Our position is that we should remain as interoperable with the Australians as we possibly can.

Democracy

Global Times announced the publication by China’s MFA of a scathing document, “The State of Democracy in the United States: 2022”, only available currently in Chinese, although my translator worked quite well. Its aim is to provide truths about what “democracy” is in reality within the Outlaw US Empire as Biden prepares to hold another propaganda summit on the topic at the end of March. What follows are the document’s concluding remarks:

Democracy is a value shared by all mankind, but there is no model of political system in the world that applies to all countries. The gardens of human civilization are rich and colorful, and democracy in all countries should also bloom. The United States has American-style democracy, China has Chinese-style democracy, and each country also has a unique model of democracy suited to its own national conditions. Whether a country is a democracy and how to better realize it should be judged by the people of that country, not by a few self-righteous countries.

Under the guise of democracy, harming others and disrupting the world should be unanimously opposed, and simply dividing the countries of the world into two categories, democracy and authoritarianism, lacks modernity and science. What the world needs today is not to create division in the name of democracy and to promote de facto unilateralism, but to strengthen solidarity and cooperation on the basis of the purposes and principles of the Charter of the United Nations and to adhere to genuine multilateralism. What the world needs today is not to interfere in other countries' internal affairs under the guise of democracy, but to promote true democracy, abandon pseudo-democracy, and jointly promote democracy in international relations. What the world needs today is not a "democracy summit" that exaggerates confrontation and is not conducive to working together to address global challenges, but a solidarity conference that does more practical things and focuses on solving the outstanding problems facing the international community.

Freedom, democracy and human rights are the common pursuit of mankind and the values that the Communist Party of China has always pursued. China adheres to and develops people's democracy in the whole process, and concretely and realistically embodies the people's mastery of the country in the governance of the country by the Communist Party of China. China is willing to strengthen exchanges and mutual learning with other countries on the issue of democracy, carry forward the common values of peace, development, fairness, justice, democracy and freedom for all mankind, promote democracy in international relations and make new and greater contributions to the cause of human progress.

Hopefully, China will quickly translate this into numerous languages and distribute it through its embassy’s globally.

Posted by: karlof1 | Mar 20 2023 18:43 utc | 91

Taiwan is always part of China, but war with Australia is a fallacy

Xiao Qian

Ambassador of the People’s Republic of China to Australia

“If the Pacific has become an area of military contest, the question will be, how does that manifest itself?

“Where would we be if the Australians decided they wanted a sub to visit? We can’t do that. We won’t change our laws. So there’ll be potentially a little bit of an issue around that.”

New Zealand will hold a general election in October, with a close contest expected between the governing Labour Party and the National Party.

New Zealand’s foreign minister, Nanaia Mahuta, is currently visiting China for the first such visit since 2019.

Mahuta said her nation’s relationship with China – which accounts for 30 per cent of New Zealand’s total exports – was “our most important, complex and wide-ranging”.

The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age reported this week that the labour movement will hold its annual May Day march in Port Kembla out of growing concern the Wollongong suburb could become the east-coast home for eight nuclear-powered vessels.

During a visit to Canberra last month New Zealand Prime Minister Chris Hipkins said the three AUKUS nations – Australia, the US and the UK – were “incredibly important security partners for New Zealand, but our nuclear-free policy hasn’t changed either”.

Former New Zealand prime minister Helen Clark posted on Twitter: “New Zealand interests do not lie in being associated with AUKUS. Association would be damaging to independent foreign policy.”

Pointing to supportive comments from Fiji and Japan, while nations such as Indonesia and Malaysia were willing to discuss their concerns, Marles told parliament: “The response from our region to the announcement that we made last week has been gratifying. Australia draws our security from being a part of Asia and being located in the Indo-Pacific.”

Both CNN and FOX News Do Stories about “De-Dollarization” – If MSM is covering this; it’s because FedGov KNOWS what’s coming

For literally decades, people scoffed-at “conspiracy theorists” talk about the US Dollar collapsing.  They laughed at “the tin foil hat crowd” when it screamed from the rooftops that rampant over-spending would kill our currency.  The responses to the conspiracy theorists and tin-foil-hat-crowd was simple: “The dollar is the world’s reserve currency; the world can’t do without it.”  Turns out, the responses were wrong.

Within the past 24 hours, far left-wing CNN and far right-wing FOX NEWS have both begun airing stories about “De-Dollarization.”   For both the far-left and the far-right main-stream-media to be airing such stories is no coincidence.  That the MSM is now airing this means the powers-that-be in the US know – as a matter of absolute fact – the world __is__ turning its back on the Dollar, and that means trouble is coming to the US.  Trouble on a scale that literally NONE of us has seen in our lifetimes.

We begin with the piece aired on FOX NEWS, which featured an interview with former Assistant US Treasury Secretary Monica Crowley.   As you will see in the brief, 4:45 video below, she clearly mentions “Weimar Republic-type inflation” . . . . she’s talking about here.   HERE!   In the United States!   Watch:

https://video.twimg.com/amplify_video/1640178308246634496/vid/640x352/8tPCWdyr4WWPN_nu.mp4?tag=16

Next, the segment that aired on CNN:

https://video.twimg.com/amplify_video/1640058570904416257/vid/1280x720/hnAf890m2HaDaLB4.mp4?tag=16

Folks, they’re beginning to tell the general public what’s coming.

CNN’s piece talked about the dollar suffering “a death by a thousand cuts.”  THAT is what is going on.  As the Dollar “bleeds-out” our cash will buy less and less.  And CNN’s piece makes clear “America will face a reckoning like none before.”

You have to prepare.  You have to get the things you will need, NOW.   The you must begin changing how you hold assets and wealth.  You need to put your “dollars” into something which is not “dollars” but will hold its value no matter what changes take place: things like real estate, shelf-stable foods, tools, and, of course, precious metals . . . . but be careful about those precious metals..  You can’t eat gold or silver.  And since no aspect of our economy is moving toward the acceptance of either gold or silver in COMMERCE, having all your assets tied up in those metals would be a recipe for starvation.

The de-dollarization of the world is not going to happen overnight.  Yet, it __is__ happening.

I am NOT a licensed financial expert.  I do NOT have any special training or knowledge in matters financial and I cannot give financial advice.

What I _can_ do is tell you what’s actually taking place in the world so you can decide for yourselves about what — if anything — to do with your assets.   You should consult with a Licensed financial expert before making any financial or investment decisions.

Having said that, for myself, I and members of my family choose to start making moves now with pension plan, IRA, 401-K and the like.  Because having all our assets (what few we have)  in “dollars” is suddenly becoming a very bad idea.

They listened to me!

. . .from Global Times
China releases report that removes facade of American democracy

On the day that marked the 20th anniversary of the US-led invasion of Iraq, the Chinese Foreign Ministry released a report on Monday further unveiling the decline of American democracy and the chaos it has brought to the world under its disguise.

Analysts called the report, along with an increasing number of developing countries' growing discontent over US' hegemony, a "slap in the US face" and it helps remove the facade of American democracy, especially when the Biden administration is so keen on touting the "democracy versus authoritarianism" narrative for the second Summit for Democracy on March 29 and 30. 

The report, titled "The State of Democracy in the United States: 2022," contains four parts, and by collecting a multitude of facts, media comments and expert opinions, it presents a complete and real picture of American democracy over the year - not only revealing American democracy in chaos at home but also presenting the havoc and disaster the US has brought by peddling and imposing its democracy around the world. . .here

Posted by: Don Bacon | Mar 20 2023 19:41 utc | 103

Sweet Chili Meatballs

Round out your game-day lineup with an amazing flavor combination they won’t see coming – something sweet, tangy and savory that brings just the right amount of heat: Sweet Chili Meatballs.

sweet chili meatballs
sweet chili meatballs

Bite-size meatballs made with ginger, fresh cilantro, green onions and sweet chili sauce are baked before getting doused in even more sweet chili sauce, making them an irresistibly tasty addition to any game day spread. If the game heads into overtime, no need to worry because these meatballs will say warm in the slow cooker all game long.

Ingredients

  • 1 pound lean ground turkey or ground beef
  • 1/3 cup Japanese panko crumbs or bread crumbs
  • 1/4 cup cilantro, finely chopped
  • 3 green onions, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, finely minced
  • 1 large egg, beaten
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 12 ounces Frank’s RedHot Sweet Chili Sauce, divided

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Mix ground meat, panko crumbs, cilantro, green onion, ginger, egg, salt and 1/4 cup sweet chili sauce. Form into one-inch meatballs.
  3. Place meatballs on lightly greased baking sheets.
  4. Bake 20 minutes, turning once halfway through. Put meatballs in slow cooker on warm.
  5. With slow cooker on low to keep meatballs warm, pour remaining sweet chili sauce over meatballs. Gently stir to coat.

Why Would China Be An Enemy?


I am completely at a loss as to why the UK should seek to join in with the US in considering China an enemy, and in looking to build up military forces in the Pacific to oppose China.In what sense are Chinese interests opposed to British interests? I am not sure when I last bought something which wasn’t maufactured in China. To my astonishment that even applies to our second hand Volvo, and it also applies to this laptop.I have stated this before but it is worth restating:I cannot readily think of any example in history, of a state which achieved the level of economic dominance China has now achieved, that did not seek to use its economic muscle to finance military acquisition of territory to increase its economic resources.In that respect China is vastly more pacific than the United States, United Kingdom, France, Spain or any other formerly prominent power.Ask yourself this simple question. How many overseas military bases does the USA have? And how many overseas military bases does China have?Depending on what you count, the United States has between 750 and 1100 overseas military bases.China has between 6 and 9.

The last military aggression by China was its takeover of Tibet in 1951 and 1959. Since that date, we have seen the United States invade with massive destruction Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea, Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya.

The United States has also been involved in sponsoring numerous military coups, including military support to the overthrow of literally dozens of governments, many of them democratically elected. It has destroyed numerous countries by proxy, Libya being the most recent example.

China has simply no record, for over 60 years, of attacking and invading other countries.

2023 03 27 20 18
2023 03 27 20 18

The anti-Chinese military posture adopted by the leaders of US, UK and Australia as they pour astonishing amounts of public money into the corrupt military industrial complex to build pointless nuclear submarines, appears a deliberate attempt to create military tension with China.

Sunak recited the tired neoliberal roll call of enemies, condemning: “Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine, China’s growing assertiveness, and destabilising behaviour of Iran and North Korea”.

What precisely are Iran and China doing, that makes them our enemy?

This article is not about Iran, but plainly western sanctions have held back the economic and societal development of that highly talented nation and have simply entrenched its theological regime.

Their purpose is not to improve Iran but to maintain a situation where Israel has nuclear weapons and Iran does not. If accompanied by an effort to disarm the rogue state of Israel, they might make more sense.

On China, in what does its “assertiveness” consist that makes it necessary to view it as a military enemy? China has constructed some military bases by artificially extending small islands. That is perfectly legal behaviour. The territory is Chinese.

As the United States has numerous bases in the region on other people’s territory, I truly struggle to see where the objection lies to Chinese bases on Chinese territory.

China has made claims which are controversial for maritime jurisdiction around these artificial islands – and I would argue wrong under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea. But they are no more controversial than a great many other UNCLOS claims, for example the UK’s behaviour over Rockall.

China has made, for example, no attempt to militarily enforce a 200 mile exclusive economic zone arising from its artificial islands, whatever it has said. Its claim to a 12 mile territorial sea is I think valid.

Similarly, the United States has objected to pronouncements from China that appear contrary to UNCLOS on passage through straits, but again this is no different from a variety of such disputes worldwide. The United States and others have repeatedly asserted, and practised, their right of free passage, and met no military resistance from China.

So is that it? Is that what Chinese “aggression” amounts to, some UNCLOS disputes?

Aah, we are told, but what about Taiwan?

To which the only reply is, what about Taiwan? Taiwan is a part of China which separated off under the nationalist government after the Civil War. Taiwan does not claim not to be Chinese territory.

In fact – and this is far too little understood in the West because our media does not tell you – the government of Taiwan still claims to be the legitimate government of all of China.

The government of Taiwan supports reunification just as much as the government of China, the only difference being who would be in charge.

The dispute with Taiwan is therefore an unresolved Chinese civil war, not an independent state menaced by China. As a civil war the entire world away from us, it is very hard to understand why we have an interest in supporting one side rather than the other.

Peaceful resolution is of course preferable. But it is not our conflict.

There is no evidence whatsoever that China has any intention of invading anywhere else in the China Seas or the Pacific. Not Singapore, not Japan and least of all Australia. That is almost as fantastic as the ludicrous idea that the UK must be defended from Russian invasion.

If China wanted, it could simply buy 100% of every public listed company in Australia, without even noticing a dent in China’s dollar reserves.

Which of course brings us to the real dispute, which is economic and about soft power. China has massively increased its influence abroad, by trade, investment, loans and manufacture. China is now the dominant economic power, and it can only be a matter of time before the dollar ceases to be the world’s reserve currency.

China has chosen this method of economic expansion and prosperity over territorial acquisition or military control of resources.

That may be to do with Confucian versus Western thought. Or it may just be the government in Beijing is smarter than Western governments. But growing Chinese economic dominance does not appear to me a reversible process in the coming century.

To react to China’s growing economic power by increasing western military power is hopeless. It is harder to think of a more stupid example of lashing out in blind anger. It is a it like peeing on your carpet because the neighbours are too noisy.

Aah, but you ask. What about human rights? What about the Uighurs?

I have a large amount of sympathy. China was an Imperial power in the great age of formal imperialism, and the Uighurs were colonised by China. Unfortunately the Chinese have followed the West’s “War on Terror” playbook in exploiting Islamophobia to clamp down on Uighur culture and autonomy.

I very much hope that this reduces, and that freedom of speech improves in general across China.

But let nobody claim that human rights genuinely has any part to play in who the Western military industrial complex treats as an enemy and who it treats as an ally. I know it does not, because that is the precise issue on which I was sacked as an Ambassador.

The abominable suffering of the children of Yemen and Palestine also cries out against any pretence that Western policy, and above all choice of ally, is human rights based.

China is treated as an enemy because the United States has been forced to contemplate the mortality of its economic dominance.

China is treated as an enemy because that is a chance for the political and capitalist classes to make yet more super profits from the military industrial complex.

But China is not our enemy. Only atavism and xenophobia make it so.

————————————————

Forgive me for pointing out that my ability to provide this coverage is entirely dependent on your kind voluntary subscriptions which keep this blog going. This post is free for anybody to reproduce or republish, including in translation. You are still very welcome to read without subscribing.

Unlike our adversaries including the Integrity Initiative, the 77th Brigade, Bellingcat, the Atlantic Council and hundreds of other warmongering propaganda operations, this blog has no source of state, corporate or institutional finance whatsoever. It runs entirely on voluntary subscriptions from its readers – many of whom do not necessarily agree with the every article, but welcome the alternative voice, insider information and debate.

The Chinese leader’s visit comes at a time when bilateral relations are at an all-time high, according to Russian officials

Chinese President Xi Jinping arrived in Moscow on Monday for a three-day state visit to meet with his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin. During the summit, the two sides will discuss strategic cooperation in the energy and military spheres, as well as the Ukraine conflict. (emphasis added here)

Xi said he was happy to be back in Russia after landing at Vnukovo Airport, and stressed the importance of strong relations between Beijing and Moscow, not just for the nations themselves but also for the wider international community.

The Chinese leader asserted that together with Russia, his nation is ready to “defend with resolve the UN-centric international system.”  The two countries would endeavor to “abide by true multipolarity and foster a multipolar world with democratized international relations, to encourage the development of global affairs in a direction that would be more just and rational,” Xi added.

Later in the day, the Chinese leader is scheduled to hold an informal meeting with Putin which will focus on “key and sensitive issues,” according to Russian presidential aide Yury Ushakov.

The main round of talks, however, will take place on Tuesday, with the Chinese leader also expected to meet with Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin. Later, the Russian and Chinese delegations will hold negotiations in an expanded format.

[.] 
In total, Moscow and Beijing are set to sign a dozen documents outlining bilateral cooperation, including two major joint statements.[.] (emphasis added here)

LINK to RT

We are spectators to a global shift off the Richter scale.
Heart attacks due in D.C.

Posted by: Likklemore | Mar 20 2023 18:55 utc | 94

Astonishing!

«astonishing geopolitical developments. […] China publicly lambasted U.S. hegemony […] Moscow rolled out the red carpet for the Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. […] Today China’s President Xi arrived in Moscow for three days of talks with Russia’s President Putin. […] Xi and Putin are now running the multilateral global show. Biden and the hapless ‘unilateral’ people around him are left aside.»

This is nothing astonishing, just a repeat of Cold War news, almost unchanged, with the “second world” made of PRC and RF and a few others (Korea-North, Iran, Mongolia, Cuba, …) is again “contained” behind the Iron Curtain, just as
The “first world” has expanded enormously (eastern Europe, most of south-east Asia and western Asia, most of Africa), and the “third world” led as usual by India is as usual playing both sides, but mostly pro-USA.

Sometimes our bar host “b” sounds to me quite fond of wishful thinking, like the others who overplay the “multilaterality” and “collapse of the USA hegemony” claims.

Realistically speaking the USA are still enormously powerful, they have kept most of the huge gains made during the past 30-40 years, and they are successfully isolating RF and PRC behind a new Iron Curtain to prevent their vassals from defecting.

Posted by: Blissex | Mar 20 2023 19:03 utc | 97

U.S. Embassy to Americans: “Leave Israel Immediately”

The United States Embassy in Jerusalem has told Americans to “Leave Israel Immediately.” The country of Israel is descending rapidly into what some have called “Civil War.”

Unions have gone on strike.  The airports have all shut down.  Restaurants, banks, shopping malls, have all joined in a national strike against proposed changes to the government that would basically gut the Judiciary of Israel.

Members of the Israeli military are openly DESERTING after Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu FIRED the Defense Minister for opposing judicial reforms.

Former Prime Minister Ehud Barack says Netanyahu and his “gang” are “acting insane and bringing civil war to the country.”

Israel’s Counsel General in New York has resigned.

For almost a whole week, hundreds-of-thousands of protestors have taken to the streets in every major city of the country.

There are now open calls from the far right inside Israel, for people to “take up arms” against left-wingers in the country.

Israel is descending into chaos . . . . just days after introducing legislation that would make it a criminal offense, punishable by two years prison, for discussing . . .  Jesus. . . anywhere in the country or online. (Story HERE)

Interesting turn of events.

Ukraine Troops Training inside UK with — DEPLETED URANIUM TANK PROJECTILES

The United Kingdom is, in fact, training Ukrainian Soldiers on the proper handling and USE of Depleted Uranium tank projectiles.  The image below was secreted out of a UK training facility . . .

Back on March 21, the Deputy Defense Minister of the United Kingdom publicly acknowledged that the UK will be supplying Depleted Uranium Ammunition to Ukraine forces to utilize in certain weapons platforms supplied to Ukraine by NATO.  (Story HERE)

Russia has made clear that if Depleted Uranium ammunition is given to Ukraine, this will be viewed by Russia as an attack with “Dirty nuclear bombs” and Russia will respond accordingly.

Here now, an image secreted out of a UK training facility where Ukraine troops are, in fact, being given training on how to handle and use such ammunition:

The United States has become the meme for depravity, politics, and war-mongering

I’ve watched snippets of the Congressional “hearings” in Tictok being banned. What a “horse show”.  Forget about the context. Look at the hatred and anger spewing from Congress. This is America today.

Aching. Ready for a fight.

Helpless. Impotent. Frustrated.

Gonna get bad before it gets better.

2023 03 24 14 49
2023 03 24 14 49

Anti-chinese hysteria, pure and simple.

Swiss abandoned neutrality and confiscated Russian assets. Threatens to do the same to China if she sides with Russia.

Swiss banks’ clients, new and existing, are scared. Funds run to Singapore and Hong Kong, etc. HSBC (HK & Shanghai Banking Corp) needed to arrange extra staff working over weekends to handle the transactions.

Now Swiss’ own working group declares the confiscation unconstitutional and unlawful. Will the Swiss ruling party or politicians be responsible for the illegal acts?

See Reuters below:

ZURICH, Feb 15 (Reuters) – The confiscation of private Russian assets would undermine the Swiss constitution and the prevailing legal order, the Swiss government said on Wednesday, citing the findings of a working group set up by the Federal Office of Justice.

A working body set up to discuss the issue said the expropriation of private assets of lawful origin without compensation was not permissible under Swiss law.

“The confiscation of frozen private assets is inconsistent with the Federal Constitution and the prevailing legal order and violates Switzerland’s international commitments,” the Swiss Justice Ministry said on Wednesday.

Switzerland’s banks had also been against the confiscation. “There is no legal basis for confiscation today,” the Swiss Bankers Association said last month.

Brothers in tech, trade, currency and military arms, Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin.

It spells the death knell for the West's 500-year colonial rape and plunder of Planet Earth.

From HERE

Article:

Fantine Gardinier

During their multi-day talks in Moscow, Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping have reaffirmed their commitment to cooperate in building a world no longer centered on Washington, DC, or Europe.
However, that world order won’t simply be one that replaces the United States as the global hegemon, but one that is built upon multipolar relations and a rapidly developing Global South, Fabio Massimo Parenti, a PhD in geopolitics and geoeconomics and associate professor of international political economy and geopolitics at China Foreign Affairs University in Beijing, told Sputnik on Tuesday.
Noting that Putin told Xi he supports using Chinese renminbi (RMB) or yuan as an international means of payment and reserve currency, Parenti said it was part of a larger effort to de-center the US dollar in the global economy.
“The yuan is already the fifth international currency in the world, in terms of global circulation and official reserves. The China-Russia rapprochement has gone hand in hand with global economic transformation towards multipolarity, which passes through a monetary system shift,” he explained.
Parenti said he agreed with Putin’s statement about the importance of China and Russia combining their information technology and artificial intelligence efforts as a sort of “tech alliance,” saying such cooperation is going to be key in the future, especially as the West tries to target both nations’ tech sectors.
“China is already a world leader in many fields and Russia can benefit a lot from its partner’s ability and development,” he said. “At the same time, China can benefit from Russia’s new open market left by Westerners, from Russian raw materials and TLC education and expertise.”
“Combining financial resources with raw materials, talents and market size, both countries can find mutual advantages by bolstering bilateral relations at an even higher strategic level,” he asserted. “It goes without saying that all of these developments will increase both countries’ independence from every sort of Western sanctions.”
“First, I think that Western sanctions are an abuse and generally detrimental for people’s daily lives. Therefore, whilst the West attacks political systems and leaders, it is actually attacking the people of entire countries. Second, the Western abuse of unilateral sanctions is surely accelerating other powers’ reorganization, [who are] searching for a greater level of independence and autonomy. Under this respect, I believe that both China and Russia can take advantage of this sanctions crisis/impact.”
Turning to Beijing’s proposal for peace in Ukraine – and Washington’s rejection of such a deal – Parenti said that time and again, “the US has confirmed itself as the biggest threat to humanity, the main promoter of wars, the most irresponsible country, incapable of promoting peace talks and peaceful coexistence.”
“They look only at hegemony and unipolarity, rejecting a democratization of international relations. Herein Russia-China ties find their quite recent historical roots. Only starting from this consciousness can we understand these two great countries’ will to build a multipolar world system, along with many other countries of the ‘Global South’ historically enslaved by the West. All of this, in the Chinese view, means building a community with a shared future for humanity.”
Jeff J. Brown, author of The China Trilogy, editor at China Rising Radio Sinoland and co-founder and curator of the Bioweapon Truth Commission, told Sputnik that China and Russia “clearly” know that “the West’s historical ability to rape and plunder the world’s resources for the last 500 years has been enforced by an imposed reserve currency, earlier the British pound and postwar, the US dollar.”
“Among non-Western currencies, the Chinese yuan [RMB] is the most sought after to de-dollarize global trade, due to the size and scope of its [China’s] economy. With Russia’s SPSF [System for Transfer of Financial Messages’] interbank wire system, any use of the RMB is going to enhance the ruble,” he noted.
“If India and Brazil buy Russian oil and gas in yuan using the SPSF, it can use them to trade with China, whose bilateral total will easily surpass US$200 billion this year.”
Brown noted that for more than five years, the US dollar has faced “death by a thousand cuts” around the world.

“Russia and China trading in their national currencies is more than a cut, it is a gash,” he said.

He explained that when it comes to SPSF, “countries are lining up to participate, including China, India, Iran and even Germany and Switzerland. Little known is that China has its own payment system, the Cross-Border Inter-Bank Payments System (CIPS). Now that the West’s SWIFT has cut off Russia and China knows it could be next, there are plans to integrate these two anti-SWIFTs,” he predicted.
Among those that could join such a Russian-Chinese financial “coalition” are the BRICS nations, the Eurasian Economic Union, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC), and oil giant Saudi Arabia, the lattermost of which he said was “probably the most disconcerting for Western empire.”
Brown said that “Westerners underestimate Russia’s historical and broad technical prowess. While there is some overlap with China (nuclear, military and aerospace), they have much to offer each other to cooperate in high-tech industries. Why not a combined ‘Manhattan Project’ for microchips, a big problem for both countries? The opportunities are endless.”
The expert also noted that China has benefited “plenty” from Western sanctions against Russia, pointing out that China has been “a win-win partner” for countries around the globe by helping them address trade imbalances in the energy, agricultural, and tech sectors.
“After what the USA and its vassals have done to both Russia and China, in terms of onerous, hegemonic sanctions in the recent years, China and Russia are benefitting tremendously with all their initiatives to enhance bilateral, Asian and African trade,” Brown said. “Over time, sanctions have never worked, especially against two big, powerful and rich countries.”
“All of these Western imperial sanctions are already a huge catalyst for China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) and Russia’s Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) to seek synergies, as well as China’s SCO and Russia’s Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO). ASEAN is tired of US subterfuge, BRICS is expanding and Latin America’s anti-colonial CELAC all have much to offer for continuing multipolar, mutually beneficial integration,” he added.

Buffalo Chicken Pie

Love Buffalo wings? Pack a punch of Buffalo flavor in an easy-to-make chicken pie.

Prep Time: 15 min | Total Time: 45 min | Yield: 6 servings

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Ingredients

  • 2 cups cooked chicken strips*
  • 1/2 cup Buffalo wing sauce
  • 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
  • 1/2 cup (2 ounces) crumbled blue cheese
  • 1 cup (about 2 1/2 stalks) chopped celery
  • 1 cup Original Bisquick® mix
  • 1/2 cup cornmeal
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 egg
  • 2/3 cup blue cheese dressing

* Use refrigerated cooked chicken strips (from two 6 ounce packages) or any cooked chicken for this recipe.

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. In large bowl, toss chicken and Buffalo wing sauce until well coated.
  2. Stir in cheeses and celery.
  3. Pour into ungreased 9-inch glass pie plate.
  4. In medium bowl, mix Bisquick mix, cornmeal, milk and egg. Pour over chicken mixture; spread to cover.
  5. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until topping is golden brown.
  6. Cut into wedges; drizzle with blue cheese dressing.

When I was 14 or 15, my dad found a playboy magazine under my bed. I was summoned, and he yelled at me for 15 minutes. I couldn’t tell you a word he was saying because he was that mad, that loud, and I was simply terrified. You have to understand that my father was hard-core Christian and did NOT brook with any such thing as pornography. He spent a long time in that tirade talking about the evils of porn.

At the end of the tirade, he finally demanded, “WHERE ON EARTH DID YOU EVEN GET SUCH A THING!?”

I was way to terrified to lie, so I told him the truth, “Under *your* bed.”

At which point he turned beet red, stood there for several seconds, and then walked out of my room and never said another word about it.

After that he started hiding the Playboys in his closet.

US considering barring Chinese airlines using Russian airspace

The arrogance! I suppose that will stop Xi Peng’s visit to Moscow, eh?

The Transportation Department of the United States of America is considering imposing a ban on Chinese airlines which use of Russian airspace. On Friday, three officials from the Biden administration told The New York Times that the US is eying to impose a ban on Chinese airlines and other competitors who are using Russian airspace to fly passengers to the United States. The decision came in the midst of the raging Russia-Ukraine war. After the war broke out in February last year, several allies of the Ukrainian bloc decided to stop using Russian airspace in fear for the safety of the passengers. Meanwhile, China and the US have strained relationships over wide-ranging issues.

Last Monday, a proposal was submitted to the national security team about pushing an order obliging China to follow the same restrictions followed by US airlines and others. After the catastrophic war broke out, countries like the United States, the UK, Canada, etc not only decided to fly over Russian airspace, but they also banned Russian aircraft from flying over their airspace. However, many countries are still using Russian airspace for convenient travel. According to The New York Times, these restrictions have impacted the business of American airlines to a great extent. “Foreign airlines using Russian airspace on flights to and from the U.S. are gaining a significant competitive advantage over U.S. carriers in major markets, including China and India,” a US official asserted last month. “This situation is direct to the benefit of foreign airlines and at the expense of the United States as a whole, with fewer connections to key markets, fewer high-paying airline jobs, and a dent in the overall economy,” they added.

From HERE

Steve Jobs, Jobs’s last words.

He died a billionaire at 56 years old from pancreatic cancer, and here are his last words on a sick bed:

′′I reached the peak of success in the business world. My life is the epitome of success in the opinion of others.

But, I have nothing to be happy about except work. In the end, wealth is just a reality of life that I am used to.
It was then, lying on a sick bed reminiscing my whole life, I realized all the recognition and the wealth that I was very proud of, became pale and meaningless in the face of the impending death.

You can hire someone to drive for you and make money for you, but you can't make someone else take the illness from you. Lost substance can be found. But there is one thing that can never be found when lost -”life".

When a person enters the operating room, he will find that there is a book that has not yet been read - ′′ The Healthy Living Book ". No matter what stage of life we are in right now, over time we will face the day when the curtain falls.Cherish the family that loves you, love your spouse, love your friends... be kind to yourself.

As we age, we gradually realize that wearing a $300 or $30 watch - they tell the same time.

Whether we carry $300 or $30 purse / handbag - the money inside is the same.

Whether we drive a $150k car or a $30,000 car, the road and distance are the same and we reach the same destination.

Whether we drink a $300 bottle or a $10 bottle of wine - hangover is the same.

The house we live in 300 sq ft or 3000 sq ft - loneliness is the same.

You will realize that your true inner happiness does not come from the material things of this world.

Whether you take a plane on first or on economy class, if the plane collapses - you'll go with the flow.

Therefore, I hope you can recognize that when you have a partner, buddy, old friend, sibling, you talk, laugh, talk, sing, talk about North East Southwest or Heaven and Earth... that is true happiness!!”

Four undeniable facts of life:

1. Don’t educate your children to be rich. Educate them to be happy. Therefore, when they grow up, they will know the value of things, not the price.
2. words for the best reward in London……”Take your food as your medicine. Otherwise you have to take medication as your food.”
3. The person who loves you will never leave you to someone else because even if there are 100 reasons to give up on him or her, they will find a reason to hold on. There are huge differences between people.
4. Only a few really understand it. You were loved when you were born. You will be loved when you die. In between, you have to manage!

Note: If you want to go fast, go alone! But if you want to go far, go together!

“wisdom doesn’t automatically come with old age. Nothing does, except wrinkles. It’s true some wines improve with age. But only if the grapes were good in the first place”

“Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning is young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young”

“Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not every man’s greed” -Mahatma Gandhi

“Poor are those who need too much, because those who need too much are never satisfied” -Jose Mujica, Former President of Uruguay

“If you really think the environment is less important than economy, try holding your breath while you count your money” -Dr. Guy McPherson, an environmental, health and industry activist.

There are 4 types of wealth:
1. financial wealth (money)
2. social wealth (status)
3. time wealth (freedom)
4. physical wealth (health)
be wary of job that lure you in with 1 and 2 but robs you with 3 and 4.

Six top doctors in the world
1. Sunshine
2. Rest
3. Exercise
4. Healthy diet
5. Confidence
6. Friends

We are headed into Collapse. Been this way for over 3,000 years.

.

We do not learn from history because our studies are brief and prejudiced.

In a surprising manner, 250 years emerges as the average length of national greatness. This average has not varied for 3,000 years.

The stages of the rise and fall of great nations seem to be:

  • The Age of Pioneers ,
  • The Age of Conquests ,
  • The Age of Commerce ,
  • The Age of Affluence ,
  • The Age of Intellect ,
  • The Age of Decadence.

Decadence is marked by:

  • Defensiveness,
  • Pessimism,
  • Materialism,
  • Frivolity
  • An influx of foreigners
  • The Welfare State
  • A weakening of religion.

Decadence is due to:

  • Too long a period of wealth and power,
  • Selfishness,
  • Love of money ,
  • The loss of a sense of duty.
"The life histories of great states are amazingly similar, and are due to internal factors. Their falls are diverse, because they are largely the result of external causes." 

- Sir John Glubb The Fate of Empires

We are at the end of the Age of Decadence, heading into COLLAPSE.

Frankly, we’re ahead of schedule.

People Who Compete For The Title Of The Worst Boss Ever

We all look for a real leader in our boss. The one who can have our backs, who motivates and inspires. It’s a person you can thoroughly trust, learn from, and grow together with professionally.

The truth is, in reality, exactly the opposite can happen. Our managers, bosses and supervisors can downright make our life a living hell. And having in mind that we spend 40 hours a week and 2,080 working hours a year with them, this is a huge lump of our life to spend in misery.

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Here, we will discuss the REAL and actual reason. If you want to read about what others think, there’s around nine other pontifications on this question.

Around the late 1990’s, it was becoming increasingly obvious to the United States “leadership” that the original plan to “tame China” and make it into a proxy nation was not going so well. China was growing too fast. It remained incorrigible. And injected operatives were having a difficult time impressing “American thoughts, ideas and values” on the Chinese people.

After the failed color revolution (NED sponsored event known in the West as the TianAnMen massacre”), the United States turned to RAND to come up with policy projections. They saw the “crystal ball” and read an uncomfortable future.

The RAND studies can be broken down into groupings of policy.

  • Taiwan seizure
  • First Island Chain basing
  • Second island chain basing
  • Recapture of HK
  • Recapture of TIbet
  • Destabilization of Xinjiang along the Afghanistan model
  • Farming destruction and famine
  • Psyops
  • Bioweapon suppression Events
  • Blockade
  • Sanctions city
  • AUKUS
  • India (Southern flank attack)

As you can see, the plans constructed by RAND were detailed and substantive. They also came (early on, mind you) to the conclusion that a direct conflict with China was very dangerous. Thus, their plans has been, and still are, to weaken China in many ways, and then break it up into parts for greater American control.

Now, there has been a lot of things that has happened in the last 25 years regarding China. But like it, agree with it or not, one thing is very clear. China has dealt with each and every RAND operational plan adroitly. Most of the implementation policies have been interrupted, and in many cases stopped completely. Making China stronger, and now, quite a formidable power.

For purposes of this discussion, let’s look at the individual efforts, and what happened.

  • Taiwan seizure

In process. In 2014, American backed separatists took control of the DPP, and took control of Taiwan’s government. They outlawed opposition parties, held purging efforts, and followed the Ukraine model. As it stands today, the major opposition party the KMT has a large enough block to counter balance the current DPP regime, and the United States is fearful of a complete take over, so they are accelerating the timetable for full seizure of Taiwan and turning it into a proxy nation. An “aircraft carrier” from which to launch the invasion of China like what happened in the 1930’s with japan.

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main qimg df5c76a6927cf6e342ca8d491b31e277 lq

  • First Island Chain basing

Failed. China has complete and utter control of the waters in and around the “first island chain”. This control is complex and very detailed, but an ONI review presented to President Trump in early 2017 was so convincing that war-mongers John Bolton and Mike Pompeo reluctantly advised a tactical retreat to “second island chain” basing policy.

  • Second island chain basing

In process. The plan is still to maintain American basing on the “second island chain”. However, ONI has advised that China has an “incredible” force of “near invisible” “attributes” that would be severely problematic when a war occurs. I am unaware of what these advisements refer to. As it stands, the USN believes that it can effectively suppress them with little effort.

  • Recapture of HK

Failed. The NED “color revolution”, known as the “pro-democracy movement” in HK during the 2018–2019 riots was effectively and absolutely suppressed. Making HK stronger, and closer to China than ever before.

  • Recapture of TIbet

Failed. Another NED (attempted) “color revolution”. Failed abruptly and suddenly, and the mop up operation was quick. No Western coverage.

  • Destabilization of Xinjiang along the Afghanistan model

Failed. Took more time than one would expect. The United States had been arming and radicalizing the local Uighur Muslims for decades. China had to clamp down, make substantive changes in the region and wiped out the NED pockets of control.

  • Farming destruction and famine

Failed. From 2016 through 2019, there were eight bio-weapons targeting livestock. And over thirty different kinds of (in some cases genetically modified) pests that devastate crops. Because pig farms were so widely scattered, swine flu needed to be sprayed from drones. This effort caused an increase in food prices, and a spike in access, but that all recovered. In addition, the Chinese confederates to the CIA turned sides in 2020 and provided a wealth of information to the PLA.

  • Psyops

Failed. Psyops promoting American-style “democracy” and a hatred of Communism pretty much collapsed. The antics of the Trump administration erased any gains in whatever pockets that the effort had attained.

  • Bioweapon suppression Events

Failed. There were three bio-weapons unleashed on China. The first was the “B” strain of Covid during 2020 CNY. The second was the “death by vomiting” Tick virus in July 2020, and the third was the nasty “death by diarrhea” virus unleashed in August 2020. Chinese anti-viral measures caught all attempts, secured the infected individuals and suppressed the assaults.

  • Blockade

Reduced threat. The RAND studies were written at a time when the primary bulk of trade (conducted by China) was sea route reliant. Since then, the BRI land route through XinJiang opened up and now, a sizable percentage of trade goes by overland routes to Asia, Europe, and Africa. The sea lanes are still susceptible to blockade, but the primary nations affected by this kind of blockade are the United States, UK, and Britain.

  • Sanctions

Neutered. China has effectively been partnering up with a vast majority of nations to use other currencies instead of the USD. In addition, it has been selling off it’s treasury holdings. In addition, China has developed a tit4tat reverse-sanctions policy that would cause great damage to any nation trying to sanction China.

  • AUKUS

In process. Both Japan and Australia with some participation with the Philippines, are gearing up to become the next “Ukraine” battle zones. The United States is sending weapons, training, and American military leadership to fortify these areas so that they can “hold out” and wage a war of attrition against China. Media control in these nations are readying the population to acceptance of dying for the “American way of life”.

  • India (Southern flank attack)

Battleground. India is torn between the East and the West. There are elements that hate China. Elements that love Russia. Elements that want American statehood, and everything in between. India is playing the “neutral card” as best that it can. And American assets are working behind the scenes to push India to obey American policy dictates.

And so…

This is the situation. So to answer this question if “America would ever…”. Do not be naive. The Untied States is actively engaging China. It’s not going as well as the “leadership” hopes, but it could be worse. I do not have a crystal ball as to what will happen. But I can make predictions.

No matter what happens, the United States will continue falling into a dark pit of decay. The only question, at this point of time, is how many other nations will it drag down with it?

Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato Pie

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Ingredients

  • 12 slices bacon, fried crisp and crumbled
  • 1 cup shredded cheese
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  • Chopped onion to taste
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 cup Bisquick
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Butter a 9-inch pie pan.
  2. Layer bacon crumbs on bottom and cheese on top.
  3. Beat remaining ingredients until smooth. Pour over top.
  4. Bake at 400 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes.
  5. Cool for 5 minutes.
  6. Garnish with mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato and bacon.

I am sure there are places where transgenders are actively being persecuted, but over here in China this is 100% not the case.

Trans people are also not given more rights than normal people. Here we go by meritocracy, where you are judged only on prior and current performance. If you are smart, you will do well, if you are moral, you will do well, if you love our country, you will do well. But if you are a narcissist and or a corrupt and or a China hater, you will not do well here.

This is how we normally think in China. I don’t know why the American ‘transgender activists’ are so obsessed about this trans stuff.

We consider the US obsession with these cluster B personality disorders and the trans activists’ war on society to be a joke in and of itself, and we will soundly reject any of these unscientific rubbish from ever coming to our country.

I really hate that people think that this shit is so called communist, because we are actual communists over here and we will never let this shit fly in our country.

I am grateful my country bans Facebook and Twitter, if this is the shit they peddle every single day.

Trans trans trans trans trans… like wtf? Actual trans people are like 0.1% of the population and just want to live their own lives in peace without being bothered by these stupid activists.

I have a feeling most trans activists are not even transgender people, but rather just dick riders, trans chasers, and woke girls seeking not to get excommunicated from their cliques. Of course there are transgender people who are also trans activists, no shit there, but most of the people I see who dare not define what a woman is on the Western internet are stupid woke girls age 15–25 that are not even transgender.

You guys are trying to destroy your own society. I’m Chinese and we have learned the lessons of Cultural Revolution. It’s crazy how I am seeing shit similar to Cultural Revolution (and fascism from both the Democrat and Republican Party) unfold in the US at the same time.

I think it goes to show that once a trend is created, the people who are too scared to have any moral principle and integrity of their own, these people with no backbone are going to do the worst damage to society. The real billionaires funding this trans movement are just going to sit back and laugh.

And they will hop on the next trend, because they don’t actually care for trans people and they will do the next trendy thing.

At the core this trans activism issue can only be solved by solving the underlying issues of why men are treating women wrong, and why girls and women are going to stupid trend groups instead of following legitimate groups who want to be intellectual and cool at the same time.

Meanwhile, we continue to advance, and judge people by their merits.

Chinese Elections

Herewith is an overview of the newly appointed or confirmed politicians by the National People’s Congress on 10.03.2023

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These are the 7 members of the Politburo Standing Committee of the Communist Party China:

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The Reasons?

Here are some reasons

(a) Eminent Domain – This is one of the main reasons. When a Committee in China decides to build something – it takes over all the surrounding land without one seconds hesitation no matter how many residents live there or what else exists (Unless it is environmental). Its called Eminent Domain.

You will have some officials visit you and tell you to vacate your flat within 90 – 180 days (Depending) and that you will be paid market value of your flat times 1.4 – 3.1 depending on Area (Upto 2018) and if you dont vacate – the demolishing begins on the 91st and 181st day.

On the 84th or 85th day – you get the amount deposited into your account and you are asked to leave as planned by the 91st or 181st day.

Even if you dispute this amount (You believe you should be paid more) you can go to a special court to ask for higher value but you have to leave your flat.

If you dont – the authorities will either arrest you or demolish the building with you in it after 24 hours of manual checks.

As a result – China gets a Clear area of even upto 10 Hectares in 6 – 7 months flat.

No Stay Orders, No PILS, No Opposition Dharnas, No Residents Protests – nothing. Sheer and Brutal Efficiency.

Who can resist Eminent Domain? If you registered your land prior to 1.1.1972 then you can avoid Eminent Domain but then your rights are revoked. You can no longer claim insurance for damage to your property or even file for civil or criminal claims. (Say a Car runs off this round ring road and crashed on to this building and 7 people die – their bodies will be treated as Dog bodies and tossed out without any Civil or Criminal charges against the Driver or the Authorities or Insurance agencies)

(b) 99 / 999 Year Lease – Thats for Freehold Land. Most of the land in Village areas are Leased Land where you lease land with the Govt for 99 / 999 years. This means the Govt can simply take back their land and offer you another land.

One fine day – the Party rep comes and tells you – all your leases have changed. You will be given similar quality land in another part of the province (The Law is within 50 Kilometers radius) and you are to leave in 90/180 days. Thats all. You may have spent 20 years but sorry. You will be given a compensation for moving and a compensation for building a house.

To be fair you dont get shafted – you get similar land and same size and you will get houses built by the Public Housing Authority at standard rates with good efficiency.

And when they come to clear the Village – you have 10 – 20 Buses and you board with luggage for your new life.

No Protests, No PILs, No Stay Orders, Just Sheer Brutal Efficiency.

In 7 months you have the land you need for a Major infrastructure project.

This Village was cleared for a Dam Project in a mere 42 Days. The residents were built a new Village around 38 Miles away with better houses.

(c) Engineering Quality and The Construction Blitzkrieg

Have you heard of a Blitzkrieg? Where Germany would march at 10 times the normal speed and take over territories in days.

The Blitzkrieg was originally developed in South Korea but China is now a master having stolen the art from the Singaporeans beautifully.

It is like a full force. Geotechnical Engineers studying the soil and designing the foundation, Structural Engineers, Construction Engineers, Professional Engineers (Handling the Management), Consultants from Britain or Canada or Israel and a huge number of Cranes of various sizes equipped to handle weights of even 25 -50 Tonnes.

Quality testing on site through a dedicated team.

High Quality Steel or RC, High Quality Skilled Workers, First rate scaffolding – It looks like an Army at work.

(d) Finest Materials – Roads are Graded G4 Rubber Asphalt Composite. Only Japan, Malaysia and South Korea and Singapore use them in Asia. Our own Bharat uses the far more inferior Fractional Distillaton Grade Refined Asphant (FDGR Asphalt) for Highways and Crude Tarring Stone for Local roads that cannot survive the next two rains

Excellent Steel with Ore imported from all over the world to make up for a shortfall, Impinging Technique being revolutionary in the world (Right now better than any other nation)

(e) Finest Engineers – Deng sent students in the 1970s and 1980s to Universities all over the world in Canada, UK, Singapore, Europe, USA – and they learnt everything they had to learn – worked for 10 – 15 years for European companies and returned to China and began to lay the foundations for the best Engineering Design in the world.

By 2005- Chinese Engineers were among the best. Only Israelis and Canadians could be said to be better in Construction and Civil Engineering.

It is to be noted that Chinese engineers who attended prestigious Soviet Institutions also contributed massively to the country.

(f) Power Decisions

There is a Crystal Clear structure of Power. Every 5 years each Region has a 5/9/14 member Reorganization Committee or Infrastructure Committee constituted by the CCP responsible for reconstruction and awarding licenses. Licensing is transparent and bidding is done by Hidden Tender Method (Name and Details are wiped out).

This Committee cannot be impeded by a Court Order which they can tear up in 10 seconds, by the local leadership whose interference they can stop in 10 minutes or by the local police law authority whose interference they can stop in 10 seconds.

Imagine such a power committee in India. The Local MLA can be booted out or even arrested for interference. The Minority leaders can be arrested or beaten to pulp for interference or even shot. The Judges will be told to get lost. The MPS will be kicked on their rump for interfering

The Result – Sheer Brutal but Brilliant Efficiency.


But the constant whining says “Democracy…..Freedom…..Peoples Rights…..”

  • People get compensated at least 5 times faster than countries like India
  • People get re-allocated at least 5 times faster than countries like India
  • An Engineer who screws up is held responsible and accountable and the Committee assumes responsibility unlike India where the Poor engineer is alone whereas the Corrupt MP or MLA or Politicians or Officials are left well alone.
  • 100% of machinery is locally made and readily available unlike India where at least 43% is imported and 19% is made exclusively by foreign technology.

Reject modernity. Embrace Jennifer Connely.

It’s painful.
I used to work at Mercedes Benz when I was young – and one day the CEO/Owner calls me to his office and ask me to teach his son computers & software ( after work hours , for extra money of course ).

His son was only a few years younger than me and eventually we became friends.
After his college he started working at his father’s company.

Now, this is a silver spoon guy that was born into a very wealthy family…yet, his father wanted him to work everywhere in the company, so he gets familiar with all parts of the company and eventually utilizes this information to improve things.

First year he was sent to work in the warehouse… worse place to work in by far; very hard physical labor – dirty & noisy – and just very tough people to work with too… he was not used to it.

Now, those were different times … where warehouses were not yet automated – it was not Amazon… so it was not a nice place to work at, and was regarded hard work even for a regular Joe.

None of the employees knew who he was – they did not know he will own that company in just a few years, and they did not know how wealthy he was.
I talked to him a lot in those days – he was suffering, no doubt.
He could not stop complaining to me…every single day.

He hated the uniforms he had to wear, the food in their cafeteria… he hated people screaming at him, he hated the “smell” there… he just hated everything.

He kept saying – “I didn’t know people like this exist… why do we hire them?”, as he never really met “poor people” before (that’s what he called them though those were not really poor people but hard working people with jobs…).

He always talked about wanting to go back home… leaving… he missed his home constantly… terribly , and he was not even allowed to use his new car, so other employees don’t treat him differently.

But that’s what his father wanted… and though he did not understand why – he respected his father. He feared him.

About a year later he was moved from there to upper management – not before 3 guys from warehouse were fired… coincidence ? I think not.

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2023 03 24 11 56

The ‘Junior Partner’ Meme Gives No Insight To Real Changes

It is quite interesting how ‘western’ political memes are created and spread.

From an older piece in Foreign Affairs to an MSNBC opinion writer, then through warmonger Bolton and the librul Brookings think tank to the White House.

And from there it is all over the synchronized media:

> But what Xi’s visit mostly underscored, experts say, is how imbalanced the China-Russia relationship is becoming.

It certainly shows Russia needing Beijing far more than the other way around,” said Ja Ian Chong, an associate professor at the National University of Singapore, who specializes in Chinese foreign policy. <

But is this really true? Is there really a ‘junior partner’ in the Russian Chinese relations? Does Russia really need China more than China needs Russia?

Well, who of two, Russia and China, has all the stuff that is needed for a modern life?

I mean energy, minerals, commodities, foodstuff plus the abilities to retrieve and process all of them into useful products. It is obvious that Russia has all this stuff right within its borders. China, on the other side, is mostly importing these things through rather fragile sea routes. China has a naval problem that can only be solved with Russian weapons. So who is really in need of whom?

China has obviously more people than Russia. But for all the Chinese riches these are still less well off than the people in Russia.

On purchase power parity base (PPP) Russia’s GDP per capita in 2022 was $31,962 while China’s was $21,291. When the Russian GDP per capita is 50% higher than the Chinese one can it really be a ‘junior partner’ in this?

I don’t think so. I believe that Russia and China see themselves as equals. That is certainly true for the relation between President Putin and President Xi. Two equals who together do great things:

As he left a state reception at the Kremlin on Tuesday, Chinese President Xi Jinping turned to his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, and said the world was undergoing changes “the likes of which we haven’t seen for 100 years.”“And we are the ones driving these changes together,” he said.

“I agree,” Putin replied, shaking hands with the Chinese leader in an exchange that was captured on camera.

A hundred years ago the world had just seen off a big war. Four big empires, the Russian, German, Austria-Hungarian and the Ottoman had suddenly vanished. The U.S. had stepped onto the international scene. In China the Kuomintang and the Communists founded the United Front to beat the rampant warlords the imperialists had created. (Russia helped with that.)

Those were indeed times of great changes. We now see similar changes in this word. The U.S. empire and its proxies are in decline. The BRICS countries, led by Russia and China and rising, now have a bigger GDP(PPP) than the G7.

 

2023 03 24 11 51
2023 03 24 11 51

Times have changed. The arrogance of the ‘west’ has ruined its own position in the world. A multitude of other powers have established themselves and are taking over. Russia and China together will see to that.

Can the ‘west’ do something about this. I could. If it became humble and truly aware of its own position and of those of the rest of the world. But I for now see no way that it is going to happen. Certainly not anytime soon. Certainly not as long as its political discussions are made up from unfounded memes.

Posted by b on March 23, 2023 at 16:18 UTC | Permalink

Avocado Salmon Rice Bowl

From HERE all credit to Lyuba Brooke

Beautiful honey, lime, and cilantro flavors come together is this tasty salmon rice bowl. Slightly sweet cilantro lime rice topped with juicy salmon roasted in honey, lime, cilantro glaze and fresh cilantro avocado.

2023 03 19 17 17
2023 03 19 17 17

Avocado Salmon Rice Bowl

Have you ever taken a bite of something delicious and just melted into the chair?

Well, that is exactly how this Avocado Salmon Rice Bowl is going to make you feel! This sweet and citrusy flavor experience is a treat for your taste buds. Honey, lime, and cilantro flavors are carried throughout the whole dish and works beautifully with salmon, avocado and rice.

I’m such a sucker for seafood, especially when it comes to salmon and shrimp…and scallops, and calamari, and crab. Okay, there is really not much seafood that I don’t like. The only thing I have not tried and loved yet is the raw oysters. I just can’t get passes the texture there, no way. Taking the raw oysters aside, all seafood is wonderful, and especially salmon. That’s my favorite fish and I would eat if every day if I could.

2023 03 19 17 18
2023 03 19 17 18

Aside from being delicious, the second best thing about salmon is how fast and easy it is to prepare. It takes a couple of minutes to come up with the glaze or a seasoning for the salmon and into the oven it goes. After 12-15 minutes in the oven, you have a juicy, delicious piece of salmon.

Did you know that salmon is really good for you too? It is an excellent source of omega-3 fatty acids and protein. It’s also a great source of vitamin B12 and vitamin D. Many people actually have a deficiency of Vitamins B12 and D, myself included, so salmon is a great thing to be added to the menu as often as possible.

Top if off with some fresh avocado topping and you have a delicious, and really healthy dinner.

2023 03 19 17 19
2023 03 19 17 19

Ingredients

Rice

  • 1 cup jasmine rice
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  • Salt
  • 1/2 lime, juice only
  • 2 Tbsp minced fresh cilantro
  • 1 Tbsp honey
  • 3 Tbsp chicken or vegetable stock

Salmon:

  • 1 lb salmon fillets skin on
  • 1 Tbsp lime juice
  • 1 Tbsp honey
  • 2 Tbsp minced fresh cilantro
  • Salt to taste

Avocado Topping:

  • 1 ripe avocado
  • 1 tbsp lime juice
  • 1 tbsp minced fresh cilantro
  • 1/4 tsp chili powder less for milder topping
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  • Rice:
  • Cook rice in salted water per package instructions. Take off heat when it’s just done.
  • Preheat a medium cooking pan over medium-high heat. Mix stock, lime juice, honey, and cilantro together. Pour the mixture into the preheated pan and let it simmer for about a minute. Take the pan off heat and mix rice into the liquid. Season with a little bit more salt, mix well, and set aside.
  • Salmon:
  • Preheat oven to 425 and cover a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and grease it.
  • Rub the salmon skin with some oil and place the fillets skin down on the prepared baking sheet.
  • Mix lime juice, honey, and cilantro together and rub salmon fillets with it on all exposed sides. You can pour more glaze over the top and season with some salt. (Some glaze will likely run down onto the baking sheet, it will most likely get quite scorched in the oven. Don’t be scared it’s not your salmon burning, it’s the glaze that ran down.)
  • Bake salmon for 12-15 minutes, depending on the thickness of your salmon fillets.
  • Avocado:
  • Cut avocado in half, take out the pit, and take off the skin. Chop avocado and add it to a small bowl. Add lime juice, cilantro, chili powder, and salt. Gently mix.
  • To assemble the rice bowls: divide rice among two bowls, top it off with a salmon fillet, and top each bowl with half the avocado mixture.

This recipe can be found HERE along with other great and delicious things.

14 Red Flags To Look Out For When It Comes To Dating

 

I made a general list of red flags in women. Every situation is different. Not every red flag necessarily means the relationship is doomed, sometimes you need to just work around it. This isn’t an all inclusive list, and can usually work for both genders, but I was requested to make one specifically for women.

1. If she isn’t responding/engaging in conversation – She’s most likely not interested, and if she is, is it really worth it? If a girl wants to talk to you, she WILL. Nobody waits days to answer someone they’re genuinely interested in.

2. If she’s obsessed with you – This might seem great at first, but can turn south quick. Codependency is not healthy, and can create a foundation for control, manipulation, and abuse later on. It’s better to have a life outside of your relationship, rather than let your life revolve around it.

3. Always expects you to pay/bad with money – This might not be an issue right away, but can come back to bite you in the ass in the long run. How can you build a future if your partner can’t stop spending? How do you feel about being the breadwinner? Why should it be your responsibility to pay for everything?

4. My exes are psycho – This one take with a grain of salt, because sometimes people legitimately just have bad luck dating and reading people. But in a lot of situations there’s one common denominator and a reason their relationships ended badly. So stay on your toes.

5. She slaps/hits you if she’s upset – Physical violence is NEVER okay in a relationship, man or woman. If your date/SO hurts you in some way, run. If they do it once, it’s likely it will happen again, and could be much worse. Not to be confused with play fighting or BDSM in the bedroom, which if consented to by both parties, is okay.

6. She makes her mental health your problem – A lot of people legitimately have mental health issues, but it is not okay to make them someone else’s responsibility. You shouldn’t have to tiptoe around them all of the time. If they can’t handle their emotions on a day to day basis, they have no business being in a relationship. If they ever ever ever say “if you leave me, I’ll kill myself”, run like the wind. Contact police, family, whoever you need to, to get them the help they need. But that’s the end of your responsibility. That is nothing but an abuse/control tactic and is never okay.

7. Showers you with gifts and affection, but uses it against you – This one is tricky. Have you ever heard of “love-bombing”? Basically, someone will shower you with affection, but use it against you later. “I did XYZ for you, and you can’t appreciate it?” You didn’t ask for it, you don’t owe them anything. It’s manipulation.

8. Makes fun of you for humor – She’ll joke about your flaws or make rude comments, but say “babe it was just a joke”. There’s always some truth behind every one, and a lot of people will use humor as an excuse to make fun of you/complain about you. If it hurts your feelings, it was probably meant to even though she said it wasn’t. Don’t encourage those mind games. If it’s a one off situation it might be an honest mistake, but if it’s reoccurring, run.

9. She’s always picking a fight – As much as people like to say “relationships are work”, they shouldn’t be like this. Relationships really should be a source of stress relief. If everything you do is a problem to her, you need to find someone where it isn’t. You shouldn’t have to fight for a relationship, it should come naturally.

10. She doesn’t say what she means – This is a big issue I hear talked about a lot. “Women never say what they mean”. That just means she has poor communication skills and expects you to just read her mind. Nobody is a mind reader, and relationships don’t work without communication. I promise you that the women out there who are worth it, will tell you exactly what they want. How are you supposed to know unless she tells you? That’s not fair to you.

11. She plays the poor me act – Some people are truly down on their luck. But for some they use it as a tool to manipulate you. They just need some help back on their feet, but never seem to actually get back on their feet. They’re usually just using you as a meal ticket.

12. She only talks about her ex – Sometimes this is unavoidable if they’ve spent years of their life with an ex. However, this is often a sign they are not over them or might be comparing you to them. You shouldn’t have to compete for your partner.

13. She isn’t consistent – If some days she’s super interested, and other days she’s not. She might be working, might have other commitments, but watch for patterns. If she’s hot and cold all of the time, you might not be the only one on her radar. If she does have other commitments, are you okay with working around those?

14. She has cheated, or indicates she’s cheated in the past – If your partner has cheated, there’s a very good chance they may do it again. A lot of cheaters just become sneakier once caught, and will tell you whatever you want to hear to not lose you. You can never erase that memory from the relationship. If she’s cheated in the past, what were the circumstances? Use your best judgement, people do grow and change, but some never will. If she cheated on someone with you, use caution.

You might be thinking, well how do I find a woman that doesn’t have any of these red flags? If it were easy, everyone would be in great relationships. But it’s not. Sometimes you need to sift through hundreds of women before you find her. It is not worth dating someone who doesn’t give you the love and affection you deserve. Again, this list does not include all red flags, but just some major ones I see come up a lot.

I can’t link anything here, but look of different types of emotional abuse tactics. Read them, get familiar with them, and save yourself some hurt in the future.

Remember, you never are obligated to stay in a relationship. Their life is NOT your responsibility. Take care of yourself first. And communicate, communicate, communicate.

 

Demands for war from the United States “Congress”

Make no mistake. The Ukraine war is United States driven.

American “news”…

Silly stuff

2023 03 23 11 11
2023 03 23 11 11

Really silly.

China “acting” like a Global Power. Say what?

The social credit system in China is premised on an assumption that everyone starts equally … at zero.

From then on, it is the decisions that they make that increase or decrease their social credit scores, and consequences follow in the form of rewards, incentives, disincentives or punishments.

The system exists in China in the way it does because it presumes everyone from the President down has an equal interest in the social, financial and economic stability and security it aims to provide.

It has nothing to do with whatever physical attributes they are born with, and physical attributes are not a good criterion on which to base economic, social or legal equality, or access to goods and services whether public or private.

You’d deny a child the right to an education because that child is smaller than other children of the same age?

Equal opportunity is premised on the notion that people should have equal legal access to resources.

Access is not incumbent on their physical appearance or attributes (or lack of particular attributes) or on past social, economic or legal background or decision-making, depending on the context.

BULLETIN: UK To Send Depleted Uranium Ammunition to Ukraine

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United Kingdom Deputy Minister of Defense Annabelle Goldie publicly stated today that the UK will supply Ukraine with Depleted Uranium (DU) Ammunition for some of the weapons systems supplied by NATO.  Russia has previously warned the use of Depleted Uranium will be considered an attack by a “Dirty Nuke” and will result in a nuclear response.

Annabel MacNicoll Goldie, Baroness Goldie DL (born 27 February 1950) is a Scottish politician and life peer who served as Leader of the Scottish Conservative Party from 2005 to 2011 and has served as Minister of State for Defence since 2019. She was a Member of the Scottish Parliament (MSP), as one of the additional members for the West Scotland region, from 1999 to 2016.

DEPLETED URANIUM AMMUNITION

The use of DU in munitions is controversial because of long-term health effects. Normal functioning of the kidney, brain, liver, heart, and numerous other systems can be affected by exposure to uranium, a toxic metal. It is only weakly radioactive because of the long radioactive half-life of Uranium (4.468 × 109 or 4,468,000,000 years) and the low amounts of 234 U  (half-life about 246,000 years) and 235 U  (half-life 700 million years).

The biological half-life (the average time it takes for the human body to eliminate half the amount in the body) for uranium is about 15 days. The aerosol or spallation frangible powder produced by impact and combustion of depleted uranium munitions can potentially contaminate wide areas around the impact sites, leading to possible inhalation by human beings.

The actual level of acute and chronic toxicity of DU is also controversial. Several studies using cultured cells and laboratory rodents suggest the possibility of leukemogenic, genetic, reproductive, and neurological effects from chronic exposure. According to an article in Al Jazeera, DU from American artillery is suspected to be one of the major causes of an increase in the general mortality rate in Iraq since 1991.

A 2005 epidemiology review concluded: “In aggregate the human epidemiological evidence is consistent with increased risk of birth defects in offspring of persons exposed to DU.” A 2021 study concluded that DU from exploding munitions did not lead to Gulf War illness in American veterans deployed in the Gulf War. According to 2013 study, despite the use of DU by coalition forces in Fallujah, no DU has been found in soil samples taken from the city, although another study of 2011 had indicated elevated levels of uranium in tissues of the city inhabitants.

RUSSIA EXPLICITLY WARNED AGAINST THIS

On January 25, this web site reported that Konstantin Gavrilov,  the head of the Russia Delegation to the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) has just publicly thrown down the nuclear gauntlet to the collective west, in an official statement:

Gavrilov said that he has been instructed by his government to announce “We know that the Leopard-2 tank, as well as the Bradley and Marder infantry fighting vehicles, are armed with uranium-core armor-piercing projectiles, the use of which leads to [radioactive] contamination of the area, as happened in Yugoslavia and Iraq.

If such shells are delivered to Kyiv, we will consider this as the use of dirty nuclear bombs against Russia, with all the ensuing consequences.” (Original Story HERE)

 

UPDATE 12:58 PM EDT — URGENT —

Russian President Putin stated today that Russia will “Directly Respond” to the U.K. if they decide to send Depleted Uranium Rounds to Ukraine.   (i.e. If The UK sends Uranium over here, we will send Uranium over there.)

During a Joint Press Conference with Chinese President Xi Jinping, President Putin said “Russia will have to react accordingly, bearing in mind the collective west is already beginning use use weapons with a nuclear component.”

RUSSIAN DEFENCE MINISTER: THERE ARE FEWER AND FEWER STEPS LEFT TOWARDS A NUCLEAR COLLISION – TASS

 

UPDATE 2:10 PM EDT —

Russia and China issued a statement from Moscow: “There will be no winner if a nuclear war breaks out.”

.

Baked Spaghetti Pie

Spaghetti Pie 9
Spaghetti Pie 9

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds spaghetti
  • 2 pounds ricotta cheese
  • 1/2 cup whole milk
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 pound spicy Italian sausage
  • 1/2 cup spaghetti sauce
  • 1 pound Provolone cheese, sliced thin
  • 1/2 cup Romano cheese, grated

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 475 degrees F.
  2. In a large pan, boil spaghetti for 20 minutes; drain and set aside.
  3. Mix ricotta, milk and eggs together in a small bowl; add to spaghetti and stir together.
  4. Press into a 13 x 9-inch baking pan until compact and even.
  5. Cook ground beef and sausage in a large skillet.
  6. Drain fat, removing as much as possible.
  7. Stir in spaghetti sauce. Spread evenly over spaghetti base in pan.
  8. Layer slices of Provolone over meat mixture, then add the grated Romano on top of that.
  9. Bake for 20 minutes.

Yellen Remarks for Banks Today . . .

In remarks prepared for the American Bankers Association, Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen says the U.S. banking system is “sound” but more rescue arrangements “could be warranted” if new failures at smaller institutions pose a risk to financial stability.  here’s the “rub” . . .

Yellen’s small bank comments were released under embargo at 7am. Treasury wanted them out before markets opened, as Yellen speech isn’t until 10am.

That tells everyone that Yellen and company still see the ongoing Banking “crisis” as dangerous, and they are deliberately trying to calm markets.

Trouble is, Jerome Powell over at the Federal Reserve has a meeting this week about raiding interest rates again.  His choice is now stark:

2023 03 23 10 38
2023 03 23 10 38

Send Graham to the front lines in Ukraine immediately.

Today is my 61st Birthday (Hal Turner)

I am 61 years old today.  Wow! Seems so weird even writing that.   I don’t perceive myself to be 61; it’s like . . . . how did this happen?  Where did all the years go?  And how the heck did they go so fast?????

It’s like . . . . it all lasts only . . . . 5 minutes.

Yet here I am.

My son came up here to the Pennsylvania house last night.  Arrived a little after 8:00.

He’s going to his job from here and will return here tonight after work.

I got a new Behringer MDX-2600 Audio expander/gate/compressor/peak limiter as a Birthday present from him and my wife, to replace the one that I’ve used since setting this house up as a backup broadcast facility after my mom died in November 2021.

The audio gear that I’ve been using seems to have suffered a strange but now recurring audio failure, causing audio levels to randomly change.  Weird.

My son will install the new gear after work tonight.

It a little frustrating to be getting up in my years.   There’s physical changes that I don’t like . . . at all.

For certain, the heart attack I suffered in April 2019, which forced me to get open heart surgery and quadruple bypasses for clogged heart arteries, was a big deal.  But it was small compared to the SECOND heart attack I suffered seventeen months later, in October, 2020 after two of the four cardiac bypasses clogged with blood clots.

That second heart attack was very much worse than the first, and it was during that incident that I went into heart failure on the cardiac catheterization lab operating table, and felt myself dying.

I have told this story a number of times; I had never experienced “dying” before, yet the feeling is so utterly distinct, you KNOW IT when it’s happening.   It’s not painful, or scary . . . it just . . . happens.

Thankfully, the Doc was able to fit a stent under my clogged left circumflex artery opening and restore blood flow.   That  artery had been bypassed but its bypass was one of the ones’ which had clogged with blood clots.  So if he wasn’t able to get a stent to move arterial plaque away from the opening and restore blood flow, I would have been dead.

Fast forward to about a month ago, I felt the same types of “twinges” in my chest that I had felt before my first heart attack.  I told the Doc, he scheduled me to go in for another cardiac catheterization and when they were in there, they saw that the walls of my left anterior descending artery were wilting inward and restricting blood flow.  So they did angioplasty to open the artery, but when they removed the inflatable balloon, the artery walls just wilted closed again.  So Doc said he had to Stent that, too.

So here I am, now having had two heart attacks, open heart surgery, and now two stents.  WOW!

The leg from which they took veins to use for my bypass surgery, swells-up from time to time.  Docs said the blood had to find a new way to get back to my heart after they took the vein, but for some reason, the leg swelled a little for a long time after the open heart surgery.

Then, my right knee (same leg) and right hip started deteriorating.  It felt like the connective tissue that hold my muscles and ligaments to my bones, was just falling apart.  So the right knee swells a lot almost every day now, and it makes it very uncomfortable to walk – especially if I have to do stairs.  The hip hurts when I lay down.  I don’t need this shit.

I’ve also noticed lately, I seem to be getting a bit forgetful.  I’m having trouble instantly recalling proper nouns.   I know the word I want to say, I just stop mid sentence to have to recall it.  Weird.

Yes, I take vitamins, Co-enzyme Q-10, and Straus Heart Drops.  No, I didn’t take the COVID Vax . . . and I won’t.  Those so-called “vaccines” are clearly dangerous and worse, they don’t work.  No one is putting that shit in me.

So with all that, I’ve attained 61 years on this planet.  Not too shabby, I guess.

My marriage has changed a lot.  After 31 years, it’s not so good anymore.  That’s why I’m up in PA while the Mrs. is in NJ.   I needed time away to figure out how to proceed.

The wife and I talk several times a day, but it’s just not good anymore.

I’m too old to bother coloring my hair to get rid of the gray, hit the gym and go out to stud. Been there, done that.  It’s all “wrote” for me.  Besides, my son tells me that women today, are all “nuts.”

I’ll take his word for it.  The last thing I need is to go out to play the field and find myself with a psycho-slut-from-hell.  Too many of them around nowadays.

Anyway, I just focus on my work and my show.  Pay what few bills I have, and am doing my best to get right with God and enjoy the time I have left.

Given the way things are falling apart in our world, that may be a lot less time than any of us think!

And so it goes, this fifteenth day of March, 2023.

Orange-Rosemary Butter Glazed Pork Tenderloins

Enjoy this lean and delicious premium cut of pork drizzled with a sweet and savory citrus flavored butter. With only a handful of ingredients, it’s an uncomplicated dish that’s quick and simple to prepare and full of aromatic flavor.

2023 03 19 17 12
2023 03 19 17 12

Ingredients

Orange-Rosemary Butter

  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) Challenge European Style Butter
  • 2 tablespoons frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
  • 1 tablespoon fresh rosemary leaves, finely chopped, or 2 teaspoons dried rosemary, crushed
  • 1 tablespoon grated orange peel

Tenderloins

  • 2 pork tenderloins (approximately 1 pound each)
  • 2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • 1 tablespoon thin slivers of orange peel
  • 1 cup ready to serve chicken broth
  • To taste coarse salt
  • To taste freshly ground pepper

Instructions

  1. Orange-Rosemary Butter: In a small bowl, mix together the orange-rosemary butter ingredients. Use immediately or chill (bring to room temperature before using).
  2. Tenderloins: Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  3. With a knife, make slits in tenderloins and alternately insert garlic and orange peel slivers.
  4. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt 2 Tablespoons of the butter mixture and brown tenderloins evenly for 5-10 minutes.
  5. Place tenderloins on rack in roasting pan. Spread a teaspoon of flavored butter over each tenderloin.
  6. Add broth to skillet drippings and stir. Pour broth/drippings into the roasting pan and roast uncovered for 20 minutes.
  7. Spread another teaspoon of flavored butter over each tenderloin and roast for an additional 15-20 minutes or until center of tenderloin registers 155 degrees F (use meat thermometer).
  8. Transfer pork to serving platter and cover loosely with foil. Temperature of meat should increase to 160 degrees F while standing.
  9. Pour liquid from roasting pan back into skillet and bring to a boil, cooking until reduced by half. Whisk remaining flavored butter into liquid and simmer about 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Season with salt and pepper.
  10. To serve, slice pork and drizzle with sauce.

10 min Prep time | 50 min Cook time | 6 servings

UBS Seeking to TERMINATE Credit Suisse Deal

BREAKING NEWS — UBS is reportedly engaged in meetings right now, SEEKING TO TERMINATE ITS DEAL TO ACQUIRE CREDIT SUISSE!

If UBS Backs out, then Credit Swiss will fail, enter Bankruptcy, and that will mean a Bulge-Bracket-Bank (a.k.a. “too big to fail”) has gone under.

The effects on the Global Financial System are, right now, incalculable.   A Credit Suisse Default would trigger Credit Default Swaps, and would put the bank in DEFAULT on all its Derivative Contracts.

This could be a “Black Swan Event” that sets in motion a Domino effect, taking out  BIG  banks all over the world.

More details on tonight’s Hal Turner Radio Show from 9:00-11:00 PM eastern US time (GMT -0400)

The Worst Deal Ever – Australia To Pay U.S. For Nuclear Insecurity

The the last week’s review I mentioned the AUKUS deal. It was first announced in September 2021. Back then I wrote:

Yesterday the U.S., the UK and Australia announced that the latter one will buy nuclear powered submarines to do the U.S.' bidding against China. 
...
This is a huge but short term win for the U.S. with an also-ran booby price for Britain and a strategic loss of sovereignty and budget control for Australia.

It is another U.S. slap into the face of France and the European Union. The deal will piss off New Zealand, Indonesia and of course China. It will upset the international nuclear non proliferation regime and may lead to the further military nuclearization of South Korea and Japan.

Australia currently has six conventional submarines. It had ordered new ones from France but scrapped that deal for AUKUS:

The price for the new submarines Australia will have to pay will be much higher that for the French ones. 

Some $3 billion have already been sunk into the French contract. 

France will rightfully demand additional compensation for cancelling it. 

The new contract with the U.S. or UK will cost more than the French one but will only include 8 instead of 12 boats. As three boats are needed to keep one at sea (while the other two are training or in refit), the actual patrolling capacity for Australia's navy will sink from 4 to 2-3 concurrent submarines at sea.

The much higher price of the fewer more complicate boats will upset Australia's defense budget for decades to come.

I further suggested that blackmail may have played a role in the AUKUS deal.

A few day’s after the announcement there were new details publish which suggested that Australia would lease nuclear submarines from the U.S. because the new ones will take many years to build. It would upgrade Perth harbor to be able to handle nuclear propulsion boats:

Perth will thereby be build up into a base that is compatible with the likely permanent stationing of U.S. nuclear submarines. 

These carry nuclear weapons.

The 'leased' boats, or at least their propulsion parts, would of course be still manned by U.S. or British sailors. 

The Australians already have problems retaining crews for their existing submarines. The few that will be available for the 'leased' boats will not be enough to run them. The Australians would pay largely for the privilege of being guests on board of doubtlessly U.S. commanded submarines.

Australia’s overall position did not look well:

Australia's extraction boom fueled by China's rise is coming to an end. The country will have to cut its budget and will need to seek a new economic model.

But why did I call this a "huge but short term win" for the U.S.?

It is a win in that the U.S. has gained a submarine base in Australia and will get paid for using it. This looks well if the intent is to wage a cold war on China. It is doubtful that this is a necessary strategy and it is equally doubtful that it can be successful. The weapons manufacturers will of course still love it.

But it is a only a short term win in the sense that the U.S. will lose many of its current and potential future partners over it. It has degraded its QUAD partner India and Japan to second tier status. It has increased suspicion in Indonesia, Malaysia and even Singapore of eventual nefarious plans against them.

In May 2022 Australia elected a new parliament.

Labor replaced the Liberals in the government. It found that the new submarines and the whole deal was extremely expensive. That was the chance to bury it:

The answers are obvious. Ditch the whole AUKUS deal and buy the German U-boats.

The real reason for the deal might well have been the U.S. wish for a port and base in Australia from where it can send its own nuclear submarines to harass China.

The offer to Australia to buy nuclear submarines was likely only made to remove Australian public resistance to the stationing of nuclear submarines (with nuclear weapons) on the continent.

Australia will be better off without those.

But Anthony Albanese, the new prime minister, did not have the courage to push for ending the deal. Last week the three involved countries announced new details:

Australia’s nuclear submarine program will cost up to [AUS]$368 billion over the next three decades, with confirmation that the federal government will buy at least three American-manufactured nuclear submarines and contribute "significant additional resources" to US shipyards.

The Australian government will take three, potentially second-hand Virginia-class submarines early next decade, pending the approval of the US Congress.

There will also be an option to purchase another two under the landmark AUKUS defence and security pact, announced in San Diego this morning.

In the meantime, design and development work will continue on a brand new submarine, known as the SSN-AUKUS, "leveraging” work the British have already been doing to replace their Astute-class submarines.

That submarine — which will form the AUKUS class — would eventually be operated by both the UK and Australia, using American combat systems.

One submarine will be built every two years from the early 2040s through to the late 2050s, with five SSN-AUKUS boats delivered to the Royal Australian Navy by the middle of the 2050s.

Most curious is the buy of second hand Virgina class boats. A leasing agreement would have been much better. Nuclear driven submarines are extraordinary expensive to scarp. Their 60% enriched Uranium fuel will have to be guarded for a very long time. Australia has no experience with anything nuclear.

The former Australian prime minister Paul Keating has called the agreement the worst deal in history:

Paul Keating has labelled the $368bn Aukus nuclear submarine plan as the “worst deal in all history” and “the worst international decision” by a Labor government since Billy Hughes tried to introduce conscription.

The former Labor prime minister launched an extraordinary broadside against the Albanese government at the National Press Club on Wednesday, blasting the “incompetence” of Labor backing the decision to sign up to Aukus while in opposition and when it had “no mandate” to do so. 
...
The $368bn being spent to acquire as few as eight nuclear submarines – Virginia class and next-generation SSN-Aukus submarines – was the “worst deal in all history”, he said, because it could buy 40 to 50 conventional submarines instead.

Keating also revealed that France, which lost a contract for conventional Attack class submarines in favour of Aukus, had offered “a new deal” for the “newest French nuclear submarines”.

These would require only “5% enriched uranium, not 95%, weapons grade” and came with a “firm delivery date” of 2034 at “fixed prices”, he said. The French received “no response”, Keating claimed.

James Acton, an expert a nuclear defense policy, commented on the deal:

(((James Acton))) @james_acton32 - 20:16 UTC · Mar 13, 2023

As @POTUS, @RishiSunak, and @AlboMP announce AUKUS submarine plan, here’s my assessment of the technical and proliferation risks.

BLUF: They’ve made serious efforts to mitigate those risks, but those that remain are real and significant.

Link to video of announcement
(1/n)

Here’s the plan (in brief):
1. 🇬🇧 & 🇺🇸 deploy SSNs* in🇦🇺(from 2027)
2. 🇦🇺deploys Virginia-class SSNs purchased from 🇺🇸 (from ~2032)
3. 🇦🇺deploys AUKUS SSNs, designed and produced with UK (starting in early 2040s)
*SSN=nuclear-powered attack sub.
(2/n) 
...

Acton details the risks of the deal. They are huge.

Next to financial, technological and timing risks there are also the proliferation issues.

The deal is defying the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and should Australia get an exception for the deal from the IAEA others will make similar requests.

I responded Acton’s second tweet:

Moon of Alabama @MoonofA - 20:24 UTC · Mar 13, 2023

1. is what the U.S. wanted from AUKUS.
2. will be with mostly U.S. crew and under only nominal AUS command.
3. is way too costly for AUS and will never happen.

Australia will spend billions to upgrade naval base HMAS Stirling in Western Australia so the U.S. and UK can use it for their rotational stationing there. It will ‘invest’ more billions in nuclear shipyards in the U.S. and UK. It will pay billions for the Virginia class boats over which it will have little sovereignty.

Submarine designs are long complicate programs. It took 35 million labor hours design the first batch of Virginia-class boats and it took nine million labor hours to build the first one. The new SSN-AUKUS will have similar costs and issues. I for one expect that none will ever be build. Neither Australia nor the UK have the money for them.

Still – the political fallout will come from all sides.

With this deal Australia is essentially paying the U.S. an exorbitant price to confront Australia’s biggest customer, China. Its neighbors are unhappy. Indonesia is making noise about the proliferation risk as is Malaysia. Europe is miffed that Australia scrapped the deal with France and rejected the new French offer. The deal does not increase Australia’s security.

Labor party members, who saw the interview with Keating (vid), will come to understand that their party leaders made the wrong decision.

What will it take to revers it?

Posted by b on March 15, 2023 at 16:50 UTC | Permalink

Brine Cured Pork Roast

2023 03 19 17 10
2023 03 19 17 10

Ingredients

  • 2/3 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/3 cup kosher salt or sea salt
  • 1 tablespoon black peppercorns
  • 2 tablespoons fennel seeds
  • 2 teaspoons dried thyme
  • 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 1 (4 to 6 pound or more) boneless pork loin tied with string

Instructions

  1. Combine sugar and salt with 1 quart hot water and stir to dissolve.
  2. Crack the peppercorns and fennel seeds in a mortar or on a cutting board, crushing them with the flat bottom of a heavy saucepan (or grind very, very briefly in spice grinder). Add to water along with thyme and red pepper flakes. Add 3 quarts cold water and the pork. Submerge the roast and refrigerate overnight or up to 2 days.
  3. Remove from brine and dry off the pork.
  4. If you have fresh herbs such as rosemary, tie them onto the top of the pork.
  5. Put the meat on a rack in a shallow roasting pan.
  6. Heat oven to 500 degrees F.
  7. When the oven is hot, place the roast in it and lower the heat to 325 degrees F. Bake for 1 1/4 hours. Check the internal temperature to make sure it is at 160 degrees F. If the pork is cooked, remove it and let it stand 15 minutes before carving. If not, cook a few more minutes.

The US is preparing Australia to fight its war against China

Feb 1, 2023

The United States is not preparing to go to war against China. The United States is preparing Australia to go to war against China.

Thank you for inviting me to address the Salon. I am greatly honoured and somewhat daunted, given the long list of eminent scholars, analysts and writers who have preceded me.

I am not a “writer”, although I have written a lot during my thirty-year diplomatic career, much of it in relation to China. None of it published and most of it buried in government archives. All I can bring to the table is my personal interpretation of current developments regarding US and China, in the light of my past experience.

One of your previous speakers, Patrick Lawrence, advocated putting the main point first. So here goes:

The United States is not preparing to go to war against China.

The United States is preparing Australia to go to war against China.

The ANZUS Treaty

A look at the ANZUS Treaty and the way it has been manipulated over time will explain why I have come to this conclusion.

Originally defensive in concept, the ANZUS Treaty was seen by Australia from its very beginning as a means to “achieve the acceptance by the USA of responsibility in SE Asia” (Percy Spender) to shield Australia from perceived antagonistic forces in its region. It has, however, developed into an instrument for the furtherance of US ability to prosecute war globally – previously in Iraq and Afghanistan, currently against Russia and potentially against China.

The ANZUS Treaty, usually referred to in reverential tones as “The Alliance”, has been elevated to an almost religious article of faith, against which any demur is treated as heresy amounting to treachery. Out of anxiety to cement the US into protection of Australia, the Alliance has been invoked as justification for Australia’s participation in almost every American military adventure – or misadventure – since WW II.

Unlike NATO or the Defence Treaty with Japan, the ANZUS treaty actually provides no guarantee of protection, merely assurances to consult on appropriated means of support in the event that Australia should come under attack.

On the other hand, the Alliance has facilitated the steady growth of American presence in Australia, to the point that it pervades every aspect of Australian political, economic, financial, social and cultural life. Australians fret about China “buying up the country”, but American investment is ten times the size.

They are unaware or uncaring that almost every major Australian company across the resources, food, retail, mass media, entertainment, banking and finance sectors has majority American ownership. Right now US corporations eclipse everyone else in their ability to influence our politics through their investment in Australian stocks.

Screen Shot 2023 01 31 at 8.59.38 am
Screen Shot 2023 01 31 at 8.59.38 am

The transfer of Australian assets to American ownership has continued unabated: In the second half of 2021 then Treasurer Josh Frydenberg approved the transfer of $130 billion of Australian assets to foreign private equity funds, benefiting Goldman Sachs who facilitated the transactions, by multimillions of dollars. Josh Frydenberg now is employed by Goldman Sachs:

  • Sydney Airport – Macquarie Bank led by a NY investment banker
  • AusNet (electricity infrastructure) $18 billion takeover by Brookfield – NY via Canada
  • SparkInfrastructure (electricity) $5.2 billion takeover by American interests
  • AfterPay financial transaction system $39 billion takeover
  • Healthscope, second-biggest private hospitals group (72 Hospitals) taken over by Brookfield and now controlled in the Cayman Islands.

The USA and the UK between them represent nearly half of all foreign investment. China plus Hong Kong represents 4.2%. The 4 big “Aussie” banks are dependent on foreign capital which dictate local banks’ policies and operations.

Defence and military weapons manufacturing industries in Australia are now largely owned by US weapons corporations – Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, Boeing, Thales, NorthropGrumman. The deep integration of Australia’s defence industries and economy into the US military-industrial complex greatly influences Australia’s foreign/defence policies.

That, plus US capture of Australia’s intelligence and policy apparatus through the “Five Eyes” network and ASPI (which has lobbyists from American arms manufacturers on a Board headed by an operative trained by the CIA) means that the US is able to swing Australian policy to support America in almost all its endeavours.

Despite the fact that it contains no guarantee of US protection of Australia, the Treaty and further arrangements under its auspices, such as the 2014 Force Posture Agreement and now AUKUS, have greatly facilitated US war preparation in Australia. This has accelerated exponentially in the past few years. The US now describes Australia as the most important base for the projection of US power in the Indo-Pacific.

Indicators of war preparations

* 2,500 US marines stationed in Darwin practicing for war with the Australian Defence Forces, soon to include the Japanese Defence Forces

* Establishment of a regional HQ for the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command in Darwin

* Lengthening the RAAF aircraft runways in Northern Territory at our expense for servicing US fighters and bombers

* Proposed stationing of 6 nuclear weapons-capable B52 Bombers at RAAF Tindal in NT

* Construction of massive fuel and maintenance facilities in Darwin NT for US aircraft

* Proposed acquisition of eight nuclear-propelled submarines at the cost of $170 billion for hunter-killer operations in the Taiwan Strait

* Construction, at the cost of $10 billion, of a deep water port on Australia’s east coast for US and UK nuclear powered and nuclear missile-carrying submarines

* The long-established satellite communications station known as Pine Gap in central Australia has recently, and is still being, expanded and upgraded. It is key to the command and control of US forces in the Indo-Pacific (and even as far afield as Ukraine)

The Government and right wing anti-China analysts and commentators, whose opinions dominate main stream media, accept the Defence Minister’s contention that this militarisation enhances Australia’s sovereignty by strengthening the range and lethality of Australia’s high-end war-fighting capability to provide a credible deterrent to a potential aggressor.

Many analysts and commentators outside the governing elite, including myself, argue that these arrangements effectively cede Australian sovereignty to America. This is especially because of the provisions of the Force Posture Agreement of 2014, entered into under the auspices of ANZUS.

I understand that a paper has been circulated to the Committee, expounding the details of the FPA, so in summary, it gives unimpeded access, exclusive control and use of agreed facilities and areas to US personnel, aircraft, ships and vehicles and gives Australia absolutely no say at all in how, when where and why they are to be used.

All Australian analysts, whether sympathetic or antipathetic to China, agree on one point. That is, that if the US goes to war against China over the status of Taiwan, or any other issue of contention, Australia will inevitably be involved.

The Threat

All these preparations are justified by the false premise that China presents a military threat. China has not invaded anywhere. It has never proposed use of force against other countries. It has enshrined in its Constitution the ‘Three No’s – No military alliances; No military bases; No use, or threat to use, military force. China has, however, reserved the right to use force to prevent secession by Taiwan.

It has recently rapidly increased its defence capability in response to the fearsome US naval presence and war-fighting exercises just off its coastline. Its defence budget is one third that of the US and the bases that it has constructed in the South China Sea pale into insignificance compared to the hundreds of bases that the US has ranged all around China.

So, if China is not a military threat, why is it designated as the primary systemic threat of the collective West, led by the US? The answer lies in the word “systemic”. China has expressed a determination to revamp the global financial system to make it fairer for developing countries. Kissinger is reputed to have said: “If you control money, you control the world”. The US currently controls world finance and China (with Russia) is out to change that.

The US, which played the leading part in the establishment of the post-World War II institutions, has become a leading revisionist, abandoning the UN for “coalitions of the willing”. The US has declined to join important Conventions like those on the Law of the Sea and on Climate. It has refused to accept the jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court, and has exempted itself from the Genocide Convention. It has played a leading part in the weakening of the World Trade Organisation by imposing trade restrictions on other countries, while not agreeing to new appointments to the WTO’s appellate tribunal, so preventing that body from functioning.

China is the second-largest (or by some calculations, the largest) economy in the world. It is the major trading partner of over 100 countries, mainly in the global south, but including Australia and a number of other Western countries. Hence China has the clout to undermine the “international rules-based order” set up by, and for the benefit of, the West.

China has already established an alternative to the Anglo-American international financial transaction system: – the Cross-border Interbank Payments System CIPS, (in which, ironically a number of Western banks are shareholders). In collaboration with Russia and within the BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China & South Africa) China is creating an alternative to the almighty dollar as the preferred currency for trade and for national reserve holdings.

It seems that the US has concluded that, since it can’t constrain China economically, it will have to get it bogged down in a long-drawn-out war to hinder its economic growth and hamper its infrastructure development cooperation with other countries. On 25 March 2021 President Biden vowed to prevent China from overtaking the US as the most powerful country in the world – “not on my watch” he said.

Nevertheless, the latest CSIS computer modelling, like previous modelling by the Rand Corporation, indicates that all involved in a Sino-US war would lose.

Proxy War

All of these analyses overlook one significant point. US determination to pursue the Wolfowitz doctrine of preventing the rise of any power that could challenge US global supremacy (neither Russia, nor Europe, nor China) has not diminished, but has morphed into a strategy of fighting its adversaries by proxy.

This has been clearly demonstrated by the war in Ukraine. A White House press briefing on 25 January 2022, before the Russian intervention, stated that “the US, in concert with its European partners, will weaken Russia to the point where it can exercise no influence on the international stage”.

Political leaders from Biden, through Pelosi and on to Members of Congress have told Ukraine that “your war is our war and we are in it for as long as it takes”. Congressman Adam Schiff put it bluntly that “we support Ukraine… to fight Russia over there, so that we don’t have to fight it over here”.

In the case of China, defined in the NDS as the principal threat to the US, the proxy of choice is clearly Taiwan. The strategy envisages:

• a world-wide media campaign (going on for several years already) to portray China as the aggressor;

• goading China into taking military action to prevent Taiwan’s secession;

• leaving Taiwan to conduct its own defence, with constant resupply of arms and equipment from the US, at great profit to the military/industrial complex;

• sustaining Taiwan sufficiently to keep China ‘bogged down’, thus hampering its economic development and its infrastructure cooperation with other countries;

• avoiding direct military engagement, in order to maintain the full capacity of US forces, while China’s would be significantly depleted; Although Biden has publicly re-affirmed adherence to the ‘One China’ principle, the US has been goading China by;

• stationing the bulk its naval power off the coast of China;

• ‘freedom of navigation’ and combat exercises in the South China Sea and Taiwan Straits;

• visits by senior US officials using US military aircraft;

• creation of a putative ‘Air Defence Identification Zone’ (ADIZ) extending well over mainland territory and then alleging Chinese violation of it;

• secretly providing military training personnel (whilst denying it);

• including Taiwan in the Summit for Democracy (9-10 December 2021), implying it is a separate country;

Many Australian politicians, (although not the present government), joined in goading China, by encouraging Taiwan to consider the possibility of declaring independence, which would trigger military action by China.

If Australia were to make good on its promise to ‘save Taiwan’, it would be devastated:

• The Australian navy would be obliterated, given the disparity between China’s and Australia’s forces;

* command/control centres (and possibly cities) in Australia could be wiped out by Chinese missiles. Australia has no anti-missile defence;

• To preserve its own assets, and to forestall the descent into nuclear conflict, the US would not engage directly in defence of Australia;

• US ‘support’ would be through massive arms sales to replace our losses – just as in Ukraine – at further profit to the US military/industrial complex;

• ASEAN is unlikely to support Australia. It has renewed and up-graded its Comprehensive Strategic Partnership with China. Each member country has infrastructure projects under China’s BRI, which they would not want to jeopardise in a ‘no-win war’;

• Support from India is unlikely, despite its membership of the Quad – which is nothing more than a consultative dialogue. India has security commitments to China under the SCO and gets its arms from Russia, which has a “better than treaty” relationship with China.

• Australia relies heavily on China for many daily necessities. In a war, deliveries from China would be severely disrupted.

Australians generally are more than happy for the material benefits of a trading relationship with China, which constitutes more than one third of Australia’s export earnings. But, any attempt by China to improve Australians’ understanding of China’s historical, social, cultural and scientific achievements, let alone its political systems or foreign policy, are instantly feared as nefarious attempts to infiltrate Australian politics and undermine the ‘Australian way of life’.

The increasing size of China’s economic (and, by extension military) strength, to which Australia contributes important resources and from which it derives so much benefit, is portrayed as a threat to Australia’s security. This has Australia trapped in the absurd policy paradox of preparing to go to war against China to protect Australia’s trade with China.

Recent developments in Taiwan, particularly the county and municipal elections, which caused the President, Tsai Ingwen, to resign her leadership of the pro-Independence Party, suggest that Taiwan prefers the status quo and is unwilling to be the proxy of the US in a war with Beijing.

Australia thus becomes the potential proxy.

In the name of the Alliance, American service personnel (active and retired) are now embedded in Australian defence policy making institutions and in command and control positions within the ADF. All of the American military assets installed in Australia under the Alliance and the AUKUS deal, are now “interchangeable” with the ADF, making it possible to use them as putative Australian forces against China, while the US stands aside and maintains the same pretence of “no engagement”, as it is doing in Ukraine.

This is why I said at the beginning that the US is preparing to send Australia to war against China.

Whilst these are the dangers that the ANZUS Alliance poses for Australia if the US instigates a war against China, there are risks for the US also.

1. There would be crippling expense that further exacerbates the US wealth divide and related domestic political breakdown. Supplying the weaponry and everything else required for a proxy war with China would be a bigger drain on the US budget than the Ukraine conflict. The expenditure would flow back to the military industrial complex, constituting a further massive transfer of wealth from the ordinary taxpayer to the plutocrat billionaires. It would blow out the already unsustainable national debt, and either take away from expenditure on essential services and infrastructure, or, if they print money, further blow out inflation. The political and social breakdown that the US is already suffering as a consequence of its real economic decline and widening wealth gap could only intensify to breaking point.

2. The slide into a direct war would probably be inevitable. Planning a proxy war is all very well as an academic exercise, but sticking with those plans when the fighting starts will be very difficult. There are already lunatic politicians and “experts” in the US who think American can win a direct war, so when China starts bombing Australia, and good old Aussie “mates” are dying in massive numbers, the voices of those in the US advocating direct engagement will be amplified. Combined with the already extreme polarisation of US politics in which ONLY war is bipartisan, the risk that extremists will take the US into direct conflict, and a nuclear showdown with China, is very serious.

3. The folding in of Japan into the AUKUS arrangements will increase the risk that Japan would be obliged to assist Australia in any military conflict with China. The US, because of its Defence Treaty with Japan, would then be obliged to join in the fighting, vitiating its plan to avoid direct military engagement.

A point of historical irony:

I’ll wind up with a bit of historical irony, in which I was personally involved:

In the early 70’s, we had been kept completely in the dark about the secret Kissinger visits to China, until the plan for Nixon to visit was announced. Feeling blindsided by a momentous change in US policy towards China, we produced Policy Planning Paper QP11/71 of 21 July 1971.

It recognised.. “political disadvantage resulting from the manner in which the United States conducts its global policies” and argued that this would mean that. “The American alliance, in a changing power balance, will mean less to us than it has in the past.”

It went on:

“If anything, this argument has been strengthened by recent United States actions and America’s failure to consult us on issues of primary importance to Australia. Accordingly, we shall need, now more than ever, to formulate independent policies, based on Australian national interests and those of our near neighbours…”

This is even more true today than it was in the 1970’s. For example, Australia was not consulted in the precipitate US withdrawal from Afghanistan, despite our role as ‘loyal’ supporter of the US in that ill-advised conflict. Our indignant protestations were met with Biden’s statement that “America acts only in its own interests”.

Our present predicament is due largely to the failure of a succession of Australian Governments to take this analysis to heart and act upon it. Prime Minister Fraser, who replaced Whitlam, ironically came to a very similar view towards the end of his life, which he set forth in detail in his book ‘Dangerous Allies’, but too late to do anything about it. He identified the paradox that Australia needs the US for its defence, but it only needs defending because of the US.

A couple of pertinent quotes, first from the late Jim Molan:

“Our forces were not designed to have any significant independent strategic impact. They were purely designed to provide niche components of larger American missions.”

We were, in his view, abdicating our own defence and cultivating complete dependence on the Americans.

And from Chris Hedges:

“Finally, the neo-cons who have led the U.S. into the serial debacles of Afghanistan, Iraq, and now Ukraine, costing the country tens of trillions of dollars and even greater amounts of destroyed reputational capital, will claim their customary immunity from any accountability for their savage failures and cheerily move on to their next calamity. We need to be on the lookout for their next gambit to pillage the treasury and advance their own private interests above those of the nation. It will surely come.”

 

An (incomplete) list of some of the commentators from whom I have drawn:

John Menadue – former secretary PM&C

Richard Tanter – military analyst, Nautilus Foundation

Brian Toohey – author (political and historical analysis)

Mike Scrafton was a senior Defence executive, and ministerial adviser to the minister for defence

Paul Keating was the prime minister of Australia from 1991 to 1996.

Geoff Raby AO was Australia’s ambassador to China (2007–11); He was awarded the Order of Australia for services to Australia–China relations and to international trade.

Gregory Clark began his diplomatic career with postings to Hong Kong and Moscow. He is emeritus president of Tama University in Tokyo and vice-president of the pioneering Akita International University.

Dr Mike Gilligan worked for 20 years in defence policy and evaluating military proposals for development, including time in the Pentagon on military balances in Asia.

Jocelyn Chey AM is Visiting Professor at the University of Sydney and Adjunct Professor at Western Sydney University and UTS. She formerly held diplomatic posts in China and Hong Kong. She is a Fellow of the Australian Institute of International Affairs.

Joseph Camilleri is Emeritus Professor at La Trobe University in Melbourne, a Fellow of the Australian Academy of Social Sciences, and President of Conversation at the Crossroads

David S G Goodman is the Director, China Studies Centre, University of Sydney.

Geoff Miller was Director-General, Office of National Assessments, deputy secretary, Department of Foreign Affairs, Ambassador to Japan and the Republic of Korea, and High Commissioner to New Zealand.

Cavan Hogue was Ambassador to USSR and Russia. He also worked at ANU and Macquarie universities.

 

Edited transcript of a speech to the Committee for the Republic, Salon, 18 January 2023

Why the Failure of Credit Suisse is such a big deal; It was a “Bulge Bracket Bank”

.

To average, everyday people, the failure of Credit Suisse is simply some news headline.  They have no clue at all what this means: ALERT – Time’s up.  Why? Because Credit Suisse was a “Bulge Bracket Bank.”  You may know it better as “too big to fail.”  But fail it has.

What is a bulge bracket bank?

A bulge bracket bank refers to a top-tier, multinational investment bank that has a leading role in the global financial markets. The term “bulge bracket” originally referred to the banks listed at the top of the “league tables” for securities underwriting, but it has since come to encompass a wider range of financial services.

Bulge bracket banks typically have a strong presence in both the domestic and international markets, providing a broad range of services such as underwriting, M&A advisory, equity and debt offerings, and sales and trading of securities. They also typically work with large, high-profile clients such as corporations, governments, and institutional investors.

Examples of bulge bracket banks include Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, Bank of America Merrill Lynch, Citigroup, and Deutsche Bank. These banks are known for their extensive resources, large-scale operations, and high-profile deals.

What banks are considered bulge bracket?

Some of the banks that are considered bulge bracket are:

JPMorgan Chase & Co.
Goldman Sachs Group, Inc.
Morgan Stanley
Bank of America Merrill Lynch
Citigroup, Inc.
Deutsche Bank AG
rclays PLC
Credit Suisse Group AG
In fact, UBS Group AG
Wells Fargo & Co.

These banks are considered bulge bracket because they typically have a leading role in the global financial markets and provide a wide range of financial services to large, high-profile clients such as corporations, governments, and institutional investors. They are also known for their extensive resources, large-scale operations, and high-profile deals.

What would happen if a bulge bracket bank failed?

If a bulge bracket bank were to fail, it could have serious repercussions on the global financial system and the broader economy. This is because these banks are deeply interconnected with other financial institutions and play a significant role in the global financial markets.

If a bulge bracket bank were to fail, it could trigger a domino effect that would lead to other financial institutions experiencing financial distress or failing. This could lead to a credit freeze, where access to credit is severely restricted, making it difficult for businesses and individuals to obtain financing. This, in turn, could lead to a slowdown in economic activity and a recession.

To prevent such a scenario, regulators have put in place various measures to monitor and regulate the activities of bulge bracket banks. For example, these banks are subject to more stringent capital and liquidity requirements, stress tests, and other regulations to ensure their financial stability and resilience. In the event of a failure, regulators may also intervene to stabilize the financial system and protect the broader economy from the fallout of a bank failure.

Credit Suisse Failed

Those measures do NOT seem to have worked.   Reverberations from the Credit Suisse failure, and the utterly vicious zeroing of Credit Suisse “Tier A1” Bonds, is starting to spread.

As this story is written at 4:45 AM on 20 March 2023, Asian Stock Markets have almost completed their trading day.  They’re all in the red:

AsianMarkets AllRed
AsianMarkets AllRed

 

Credit Suisse, $CS, was worth $10 billion a month ago and sold for pennies on the Dollar.

The government said $CS had “serious risk of bankruptcy.”

A shareholder vote was bypassed.

Regulators knew it was a matter of hours for bankruptcy.

This deal was made out of desperation.

In fact, the “rescue” was not a rescue. UBS could only work an equity trade, they themselves lacked the cash for a real buyout!  That deal was total clown world.

Stock Markets know this.  Stock Holders are learning of it now.  The markets will begin to react TODAY.

Europe is opening shortly.  That’s where we will see some of the Credit Suisse fallout.

In the Asian Markets HSBC & Standard Chartered both down 6%…. will be interesting to watch the European markets when they open.

US markets open in about 3.5 hours.  As Europe goes, so will the US.

You see, those “Tier 1A “Bonds that were Zeroed for Credit Suisse . . .  they totaled slightly over seventeen billion dollars.  Somebody has now lost all that money.  Well, a lot of somebody’s, actually.

That loss is going to have an impact.  Maybe an impact on someone big.   And that may take THEM out.

Moreover, the zeroing of Tier 1A Bonds just showed bondholders all over the world, that when it comes to BANKS, their “totally secure” Tier 1A bonds, aren’t nearly as secure as they were lead to believe!  People are going to start dumping those bonds, because clearly, they’re now far riskier than anyone ever thought.

When you factor-in the reality that the Swiss government changed their law in real-time, to prevent Credit Suisse stockholders from having the Statutory 6 weeks to consider a merger or buyout offer, the bondholders (and Stock holders) now know they’re sitting ducks.  They have NO PROTECTION of law. The “rules” went right out the window.

As these Bond holders (and maybe stock holders) run for the exits today – and this week – their selling is going to put the banks under even MORE pressure.

In the US, here’s how fragile the banks actually are:

Bank unrealized losses chart
Bank unrealized losses chart

At the far right of the chart is this year – right now.   As you can see, the banks are stuck holding Bonds that are worth LESS than their face value.   In the color gold, those bonds can be sold by the banks if the banks need to raise cash.  Those gold-colored (sellable) bonds are worth three-hundred BILLION dollars LESS than their face value.

As long as the banks don’t have to sell them (to raise cash) the loss on the bond is “unrealized.”  But as people begin to take more money out of the banks, because the general public sees the banks as untrustworthy, some banks are going to HAVE TO sell those bonds.   And the moment they do, the loss becomes “realized” and the bank is in trouble.

This week may very well be historic.  We just don’t know how it will turn out.

Politicians all over the world are screaming from the rooftops that “the banks are safe and secure.”  Trouble is, the public long ago learned that when they tell you things are safe, that’s when you run!

Because politicians and government officials have shown themselves to be liars, over and over , and over again.   Only the truly stupid believe them anymore.

With that reality, there’s no telling what will happen this week.  However . . . Calamity . . . is on the menu.

This isn’t going away.

This is not your typical msm-driven race-baiting, class warfare, type of drivel designed to distract you from real problems.

This is a real problem. They’re going to try to keep your eyes – and mind – off of it with crap like North Korea nuclear threats, Trump’s impending arrest, etc. Expect some race-fueled incident to really throw everyone over the edge.

If they can keep us worked up over things like that, maybe we won’t notice all the banks failing and the economy literally crumbling around us. Maybe.

This isn’t something they can bury and hide for long, though, but they will try to keep us in the dark as long as possible. Many won’t notice until bank failures and sky-high inflation impacts them personally.

When they know you notice the real problem, like with the Credit Suisse-UBS merge, they’ll issue some statement about how all is well and good, the US dollar is strong and we shouldn’t worry. When they say this kind of nonsense is when you need to worry the most.

 

UPDATE 5:20 AM EDT —

European market:

UBS – 12%

Deutsche -10%

most others -8%

people do not believe their lies anymore . . .  this is a bad omen for everything today . . . .

 

 

 

UPDATE 5:31 AM EDT —

They just talked on Bloomberg about “the possibility of UBS walking out of the deal.”

 

Russell is truth teller that is so needed in society- THANK YOU! It is truly unfathomable that Wasserman is given ANY time after her known corruption. The world is upside down

Global Times has published a brutal editorial that damns everything about this event and deserves to be pasted in full:

The leaders of the US, Britain and Australia celebrated the unveiling of the AUKUS nuclear submarine plans with great fanfare at the Naval Base in San Diego, California, on Monday. It was a public humiliation to France, which was cheated by them, and a cover-up and deceit to the Australian people, and a kind of bravado to neighboring countries. It was also a blow to the already fragile international nuclear non-proliferation mechanism, and obviously a dangerous move for the entire international community.

According to the agreement, Australia will purchase up to five US nuclear-powered submarines in the next few years, which means that Australia will become the seventh country in the world to have nuclear submarines. The peace and stability of the Indian Ocean and Pacific region will expectedly bear the impact, pressure and risks brought about by this agreement for a long time. Some American media even called it a "milestone." This obvious misnomer has produced ironic effects, but the agreement may indeed become a boundary stone for the US, Britain and Australia to drag the Asia-Pacific region into a "new cold war." It is what everyone is worried about.

In order to obtain the US' nuclear-powered submarines, Australia may have to spend nearly $250 billion. Does Australia have too many mines and is too wealthy? Australia indeed has mines, but life in Australia is not rich for most, and the current economic situation is very bad, with a huge structural budget deficit. $250 billion is roughly equivalent to about two years of public healthcare expenditure of Australia. In order to pay for this huge sum of money, Australia is bound to squeeze social welfare. In other words, the 25 million Australians will eventually have to pay the bill through a certain degree of frugality.

Another question, is Australia in danger without US' nuclear-powered submarines? Can't it survive? Obviously not. Not only does Australia not need them, but it will definitely put itself at risk by buying them. Australia, which is isolated in South Pacific and far away from other hotspots in the region, has a relatively unique geographic advantage. No country will attack or even invade Australia for no reason. Australia has had the conditions to spend its main resources and energy on improving people's livelihood.

Australia's inexplicable sense of insecurity when facing China is basically the result of being spiritually controlled for many years by the US. Australia thinks that it is the "deputy sheriff" of the Asia-Pacific region under Washington, but not to mention that it has no salary, even its police uniforms and firearms have to be bought from the US at a high price. The AUKUS agreement is actually a big trick of the US on Australia. It is equivalent to asking Australia to build a nuclear submarine base to produce its own submarines, but more importantly, to maintain and ensure the nuclear submarines of the US and Britain, and hand them over to be commanded by the US Navy, moreover, the hundreds of billions of dollars need to be paid by Australia itself. The follow-up nuclear submarine equipment, maintenance, related personnel training are an even bigger bottomless hole. Australia is at best a cat's paw which helps the US to get chestnuts from the fire, and it can be regarded as one of the most representative chump in the history of international relations.

In the English context, "white elephant" usually refers to a useless but expensive and eccentric object. It could have been better if the nuclear submarines of the US were just white elephants, but they are also a big ill omen. Canberra bought them back with a huge sum of money and will turn Australia into a haunted house, bringing risk to the whole region and making the years of efforts of South Pacific Countries in building a South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone, which is protected by formal treaty, face the most serious impact. Not only China firmly opposes it, but Southeast Asian countries such as Indonesia and Malaysia are also very dissatisfied. New Zealand directly denies Australia's nuclear submarines' access to its waters. Otherwise, the Australian Defense Minister and Foreign Minister would not have been running around recently, trying to dispel people's concerns about nuclear non-proliferation issues.

On the same day as the three AUKUS countries gathered together, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute released a new report on global arms import and export. The report shows that the US share of global arms exports has increased from 33 percent to 40 percent, and imports to East Asia and certain states in other areas of high geopolitical tension rose sharply. All this is in Washington's calculations. Just look at what America is exporting: weapons to kill, crises of all kinds (the fallout from the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank is still brewing), and the most destructive of all is geopolitical malice, which America uses to spiritually control Australia. [My Emphasis]

Not too long ago China published a long list of Outlaw US Empire crimes and its hegemonic ways. This event will be added to it even if it’s eventually rejected by Australians who the Chinese rightfully say don’t need it whatsoever. It can be said that the Australian continent’s been invaded twice–first by the British and second by the Americans and both have partnered to chain Australians similar to their convict forebearers.

There’re a lot of good Aussies here at the bar; I’m very sorry my government has done what is has done.

Posted by: karlof1 | Mar 15 2023 20:53 utc | 50

What the war in the Pacific will look like…

Good morning with a beautiful #map by@ConGeostrategy on #AUKUS power projection in the #Indopacific.
If you color Russia the same as China, you‘ll get the #Dragonbear power projection in the #Arctic and #IndoPacific too. #India will be key to both geopolitical constellations.

2023 03 16 15 17
2023 03 16 15 17

They are suggesting this…

2023 03 16 15 19
2023 03 16 15 19

I think that the map should have a LOT of light RED nations to include North Korea, Iran, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Brazil, Turkey, and much of SE Asia.

The point being is that maps that originate out of the West also self-isolate China, when that is not at all a reflection of reality.

First Republic Bank Stock HALTED 7+ Times Today alone; Looks Like There’s No Saving it

.

Trading of the stock in First Republic Bank ($FRC)  just got halted for its 7th time since the open today! Two weeks ago, the stock traded at $130.  Today it is down to less than $10.

The Trading HALTS are wild; STOCK GOES LIVE AND IS GETTING HALTED WITHIN SECONDS.   STOCK IS NOW DOWN 50% TODAY from its Friday Close.

We are on track to make a new record for most number of halts in a day. The regional bank system continues to lack a solution.

It appears to many observers that there’s no saving this bank.  Investors are spooked and are leaving. Period. Full stop.

Over $20 BILLION in Market Capitalization has been wiped this month.

This is the Canary in the coal mine for the banking industry.

Other banks just gave $30 billion in deposits to the bank last week, to shore-it-up, and the Bank is borrowing a lot more from the Fed to stay solvent.

No business or individual with half a brain is going to keep more than 250k in their business or personal accounts in any non-mega banks for much longer. The risk of loss rises daily.

They will need to backstop all banks deposits soon or this thing is going to blow sky high.

In the time it took to write this story — FRC stock has been halted TWO MORE TIMES!   Nine trading halts today alone.

We are on track to mark a record for most number of halts in a day.

You’re witnessing history.

Utopia is criminally underrated.

China donated just $5.8m to assist Turkey, while the US pledged $185m and the UK $30m.

The after-effects of the tragic earthquake in southern Turkey and northern Syria are still being felt more than one month on, both literally and metaphorically. As a report mentions, global assistance has been provided – China donated just $5.8m to assist Turkey, while the US pledged $185m and the UK $30m.
A recent poll by Premise, a research technology and data company, asked 1,000 Turks from across the country for their views on the international relief effort, the contributions from various aid agencies and also for their views on causes of the catastrophic damage
The managing director of Premise, Arthur Soames, explained that “starkest finding in data is that China is perceived as being far and away the most valued country in providing disaster relief: 72% of our nationally representative sample had a positive or very positive impression of China’s contribution, while the US, despite providing more than 20 times as much cash, was perceived in a similar light by only 59% of the population.”

“Having invested historically in their relationship with Turkey, China has found it simple to project its influence as a high-profile presence in the disaster relief from the start. This has clearly struck a powerful chord with people. The US, on the other hand, has had to pay a vastly higher premium in return for credit from the Turkish people.”

2023 03 18 10 39
2023 03 18 10 39

 

“Qatar is perhaps the most surprising outlier to have secured a powerful, positive impression amongst Turks: 26% believed that Qatar has provided the greatest support to the relief effort, the highest figure for any country.

“A lot of this must have been due to Qatar’s decision to donate 10,000 housing units to the affected area that were left over from last year’s World Cup.

“The donation received widespread coverage in the Turkish media and clearly had a powerful impact – proof that Qatar continues to receive international and diplomatic benefits from hosting the World Cup.”

2023 03 18 10 3f9
2023 03 18 10 3f9

“Behind these two comes the EU. It came in third with 16% of people saying that it had provided the most support, while 11% thought it would be most capable of assisting in the rebuild.

“By contrast, the relief effort from the US and the UK does not appear to have been particularly recognised. Only 8% of the poll felt that the US had done the most. The UK falls much further behind, barely registering 1%.”

Read the full report here.

Moscow wrote off more than $20B in debts from African states, Russian president says

Anadolu Agency ECONOMY
Published March 20,2023
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Russian President Vladimir Putin on Monday said Moscow has written off the debts of African states worth more than $20 billion.

Speaking at an international parliamentary conference titled “Russia-Africa in a Multipolar World,” Putin said the trade turnover between Russia and Africa countries is growing every year, reaching almost $18 billion in 2022.

“It is unlikely that such a figure can fully suit us, but we know that this is far from the limit,” he added.

Putin also said he believed that “the development of counter-commodity exchanges will be facilitated by a more energetic transition in financial settlements to national currencies, and the establishment of new transport and logistics chains.”

He further said: “Additional opportunities are opened up by the process of establishing the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), which began in 2021, which in the future will become a continental market with a total GDP of more than $3 trillion.”

Russia, he said, is in favor of establishing ties with AfCFTA both through the Eurasian Economic Union and on a bilateral level, adding that Africa will become one of the leaders of the multipolar world.

“The states of Africa are constantly increasing their weight and their role in world affairs, they are asserting themselves more and more confidently in politics and in the economy. We are convinced that Africa will become one of the leaders in the emerging new multipolar world order,” Putin added.

He said Russia and the countries of Africa, Asia and Latin America are against the neo-colonial ideology.

“Russia and African countries uphold moral norms and social principles traditional for our peoples, and oppose neo-colonial ideology imposed from outside,” he said. “Many states of Asia, the Middle East, Latin America adhere to similar positions, and together we make up the world majority.”

Steel barricades are being unloaded outside Manhattan criminal courthouse – TRUMP INDICTMENT?

Steel barricades are being unloaded outside Manhattan criminal courthouse as shown in the brief video below:

2023 03 23 10 41
2023 03 23 10 41

Numerous metal barricades have arrived outside the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse, located at 100 Centre St. in Manhattan, New York City, ahead of a possible Indictment of former President Trump this week.

NYPD is reportedly mobilizing up to 700 Riot Cops, Ahead of potential unruly protest.

Italian Meatballs with Peppers

Chopped red and yellow bell peppers add color and texture to these savory meatballs seasoned with Italian herb mix and enriched with mushrooms.

2023 03 19 17 08
2023 03 19 17 08

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground turkey
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped onion
  • 1 teaspoon Italian herb seasoning
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 1 cup chopped red bell pepper
  • 1 cup chopped yellow bell pepper
  • 1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms
  • 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
  • 1 teaspoon MAGGI Instant Chicken Flavor Bouillon
  • 1 can (12 fl. oz.) NESTLÉ® CARNATION®
  • Evaporated Fat Free Milk, divided
  • 4 teaspoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups hot cooked rice
  • Chopped fresh parsley

Instructions

  1. Combine turkey, onion, herb seasoning and salt in large bowl; form mixture into 24 one-inch meatballs.
  2. Heat oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add meatballs; cook, turning occasionally, for 3 to 4 minutes or until browned on all sides.
  3. Reduce heat to low; cook, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes or until cooked through.
  4. Remove meatballs from skillet; keep warm.
  5. Add bell peppers, mushrooms, garlic and bouillon to skillet; cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 to 3 minutes.
  6. Combine 1 tablespoon evaporated milk and flour in small bowl; add to skillet.
  7. Gradually stir in remaining evaporated milk; cook, stirring frequently, for 5 to 8 minutes or until sauce is slightly thickened.
  8. Add meatballs to skillet; stir to coat.
  9. Serve over rice. Garnish with parsley.

Prep: 20 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 6 servings

2023 03 23 11 06
2023 03 23 11 06

CHINA TO OFFICIALLY ARM RUSSIA IF KIEV REFUSES PEACE PLAN

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China will officially join Iran to arm Russia, “if Kyiv does not accept the Chinese peace plan.”

That is the information coming directly from the China delegation accompanying President Xi Jinping during his ongoing state visit to Russia.

Xi is expected to call Ukraine President Zelensky later this week; perhaps FROM MOSCOW during Xi’s state visit!

Washington’s response was like lightning:  The Free World officially rejects China peace plan for Ukraine: “China’s ceasefire initiative is an attempt to give Russia time to launch a new offensive.” – The White House.

 

More info as I get it.  Check back

 

UPDATE 10:36 AM EDT —

The Pentagon may soon announce measures for the possible delivery of Abrams tanks to Ukraine earlier than expected, White House spokesman John Kirby said.

2023 03 23 10 30
2023 03 23 10 30

KTVs, war with some thoughts about life and cheeseburgers

Banks are closing all over the USA. The American “leadership” wants even more war. And the entire situation is darn surreal.

Xi Peng is visiting Putin in Russia and combined (and aligned with other Geo-political events) is suggestive that all of their plans are working out…

Oh, not what you read about… certainly.

But the [1] bleeding out of the American / NATO military. The [2] suppression of the American heartland, and [3] an increase in the collapse of the economic situation in the West.

This post will reflect the levels of insanity… with elements of humanity. Please enjoy.

My favorite scene from the movie…

Backlash Of Sanction On Russia Must Not Lead To Sanctions On Everyone

More than a year ago I was wrong in predicting that the backlash from sanctions would push the ‘west’ to accept Russia’s demands.

The Sanction Backlash Will Push The ‘West’ To Accept Russia’s Demands – Mar 9, 2022

The Anglo-Saxons prevented that – at least so far.

But parts of my predictions were still correct:

The first [map] shows the countries which banned Russian airplanes from their airspace. Russia in turn denied its airspace to operators from those countries. It will cost quite a bit for U.S. and EU airlines as their flight times and cost to and from Asia, which typically fly through Russian airspace, will now increase. Carriers from Asian countries will now easily out-compete U.S. and European airlines on these routes.

That has indeed happened. U.S. carriers have lost much of their traffic to Asia to Asian airlines as their flight time on those routes are now shorter and their prices cheaper.

But instead of appealing to the U.S. government to take back the sanctions, which would be good for them and their customers, they ask to sanction the Asian carriers.

Banned From Russian Airspace, U.S. Airlines Look to Restrict Competitors

Unable to fly through Russian airspace because of the war in Ukraine, U.S. airlines are stepping up a lobbying campaign on Capitol Hill and at the White House to address what they say is a growing problem: They are losing business to foreign competitors who can take passengers between the United States and Asia faster and more cheaply.

Russia closed its airspace for U.S. and European carriers not because of the war in Ukraine but because the U.S. and its NATO proxies closed their airspace for Russian carriers. To mislead about that, as the opener of NYT piece does, is a disservice to the reader.

Flights on U.S. carriers from the U.S. to India, which previously crossed Siberia, now have to take other routes:

Airlines for America estimated the lost annual market share of U.S. carriers at a collective $2 billion per year.

But for passengers who chose the right airline the issue makes no difference:

As of Wednesday, the outbound leg of an April round-trip journey from New York’s Kennedy Airport to New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi Airport cost about $1,500 and was estimated at 13 hours and 40 minutes on Air India, according to Travelocity. The most comparable flight on a U.S. carrier: a $1,740 American Airlines trip with estimated flying time of 14 hours and 55 minutes.

The consumer’s choice here is obvious.

“Foreign airlines using Russian airspace on flights to and from the U.S. are gaining a significant competitive advantage over U.S. carriers in major markets, including China and India,” the presentation, dated February, said. “This situation is directly to the benefit of foreign airlines and at the expense of the United States as a whole, with fewer connections to key markets, fewer high paying airline jobs” and a dent in the overall economy. 
....
Now airlines are pressing the White House and Congress to fix the problem by subjecting foreign carriers from nations not already banned from Russian airspace to the same restrictions applied to U.S. airlines, effectively forcing them to fly the same routes as their American competitors.

The Biden administration should “take action to ensure that foreign carriers overflying Russia do not depart, land or transit through U.S. airports,” said Marli Collier, an Airlines for America spokeswoman.

The proposal appears to have gained traction with the Transportation Department, which recently drafted an order that would ban Chinese carriers that fly passengers to the United States from flying through Russian airspace, according to three people who were briefed on the order.

In effect the transport department, lead by dimwit mayor Pete Buttigieg, says: “F** the consumer. Just take away the good choices they have.”

Air India and other Asian carriers would not be happy about such steps. It is not their fault that they can still cross Russia while U.S. carriers no longer can. The government of the countries that would have such rules imposed on their airlines by the U.S. would see that as a quite unfriendly step.

Making flights more expensive for everyone, as the planned steps would do, would also hurt U.S. tourism and general commerce.

The New York Times writers then try to argue that there is a security issue. U.S. citizens on an Air India flight making an emergency landing in Russia could somehow be endangered. The cases they use to argue that are nonsense:

In 2014, a Malaysia Airlines flight was shot down over Ukraine, killing 298 people. 
...
In 2021, a Ryanair flight from Greece to Lithuania was diverted to Belarus, a close Kremlin ally, after officials in that country alerted air traffic controllers to a supposed bomb threat on the plane. Their true purpose, U.S. prosecutors said, was to arrest a dissident journalist who was a passenger by inventing a false safety issue. 
...
Last year, the American basketball star Brittney Griner was detained at an airport near Moscow and later sentenced to nine years in a penal colony for carrying vape cartridges of hashish oil in her luggage. She was freed in December.

A flight over an active battlefield in Ukraine, some murky issue in Belarus and a U.S. woman who admitted that she had smuggled drugs into Russia are not demonstrations of danger for U.S. passengers on Air India over Russia. Even if such flight would have to land in Russia there would be no trouble. Russia is not at war with the U.S. and private U.S citizens in Russia are safe.

To close the airspace for Russian airliners was simply a dumb idea. During a prank call European Central Bank President Christine Lagarde admitted to a fake Zelensky that sanctions on Russia have failed.

Sanctions that do not work, or even caused a backlash, should be lifted immediately and not be extended into sanctions on everyone.

Posted by b on March 18, 2023 at 17:22 UTC | Permalink

Roggenbrot (Sourdough Rye)

af3f9f336822064d0701d5e2e302c09f
af3f9f336822064d0701d5e2e302c09f

Ingredients

Sponge

  • 2 cups sourdough starter
  • 1 cup bread flour

Dough

  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon caraway seeds
  • 3 tablespoons brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon vital wheat gluten
  • 2 cups rye flour
  • Water as needed

Instructions

  1. Knead the sponge ingredients for 5 minutes; allow to sit for 8 hours or longer.
  2. Add the dough ingredients and select the basic, white or grain cycle and press start.
  3. This is a heavy dough that rises slowly and needs a relatively long rise, such as a last rise of 2 hours or more. This means you will need a programmable machine or you can prepare it on the dough cycle and then shape and allow to rise in a regular pan.
  4. Bake at 350 degrees F until done. The interior should read 200 degrees F when a thermometer is inserted in the center.

Son picks out a girl for his dad.

About the bank collapse(s)

The collapse of the Silicon Valley Bank (SVB) did not happen overnight - as it would appear. It had been planned for a while. This has been boasted by a World Economic Forum (WEF)-insider (see video insert in the text). 

And yes, it fits perfectly into the Great Reset. It may be the beginning of a series of bank failures, of even causing a domino effect of bankruptcies of financial institutions.

Banking deregulation which started with the Clinton Administration and culminated with repealing the Glass-Steagall Act in 1999, is at the heart of the matter.

It shows that what we are living today -be it covid, be it energy crisis, be it famine, be it an intended  financial collapse - it has all been planned with a long hand.

The intent is to wipe out the western economy to rebuild it again according to WEF's concept of a One World Order.

They will not succeed.

But it is important to connect the dots - and to know that nothing is simply as it may appear on the surface.

Knowing your adversary's plan, is part of defeating him.

And remember the articles opening phrase by Kybalion.

-peter

-------
Warning! Silicon Valley Bank Collapse – A Prelude of Much Worse to Come? Derivatives: “Financial Weapons of Mass Destruction” (16 March 2023)
Article HERE 
----------------------------

China’s ambassador to Russia, Zhang Hanhui, was asked a series of written questions by Global Times reporters. IMO, the Ambassador’s conclusion provides a good recap:

"The more turbulent and unstable the world becomes, the more it is necessary for China-Russia relations to steadily move forward. Faced with a complicated international situation, China is willing to work with Russia to maintain peace, security and development, jointly build a global community of shared future, implement the BRI, promote the leapfrog development of pragmatic cooperation between the two countries, and continuously advance China-Russia relations for a new era. Regardless of how the international situation changes, the China-Russia comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era will inevitably move forward at a higher level."

An editorial was also published supporting Xi’s visit and contained these two complementary paragraphs:

"President Xi's upcoming visit will also be a tour of peace. There is one major concern for the outside world: Does China have specific actions to bring about peace and promote talks during this visit? This expectation itself stems from China's continuous efforts to play a constructive role and ease the Ukraine crisis in its own way. China is one of the few major powers that can build a bridge of communications between Russia and Ukraine. This is even more precious as both sides in the conflict find themselves in a deadlock.

"However, it must be said that China is not the cause of the Ukrainian crisis, nor a party to it. It is the US and Western countries that have got themselves deeply involved in the crisis. The key to solving the Ukraine crisis is not in China's hands, but in those of the US and Western countries. If they continue to stir up trouble instead of cooperating, it will be unlikely that any efforts to bring about peace and promote talks will be effective." [My Emphasis]

IMO, it was SOP for the Outlaw US Empire to issue a rejection of any attempts by Xi to facilitate peace in the Nato-Russian War even before anything was offered thus showing the Empire’s policy in the matter–the war’s to continue until a result the Empire likes is achieved. Also note the bolded text that’s the core of the narrative China’s been promoting for the benefit of RoW, a narrative with the benefit of having the truth on its side.

Posted by: karlof1 | Mar 18 2023 21:51 utc | 46

US rejecting calls for Ukraine ceasefire shows ulterior motive of fueling the fire of conflict

.

The US rejecting calls for a ceasefire in Ukraine ahead of the meeting of Chinese and Russian leaders again showed its ulterior motive of fueling the fire of conflict and using Ukraine as its pawn to geopolitically weaken Russia to the maximum level, Chinese experts said, who also pointed out the sharp contrast between Washington and Beijing, with the latter always seeking peace and dialogue on the matter.

China announced on Friday that President Xi Jinping will pay a state visit to Russia from Monday to Wednesday.The visit is widely considered a journey that will advance peace as China has been long committed to promoting peace and dialogue over the Russia-Ukraine conflict. However, the Biden administration threw mud over the trip, expressing concerns over any proposals from China and claiming any framework offered by Beijing “would be one-sided and reflect only the Russian perspective.”

John Kirby, spokesperson for the US National Security Council, told reporters ahead of Xi’s planned trip to Russia next week, that “We don’t support calls for a ceasefire right now.” He said a proposal from China could include some type of ceasefire, which would merely be a way for Russia to regroup before launching a reprisal, CNN reported on Friday. “A ceasefire now is effectively the ratification of Russian conquest,” Kirby said.

The US also views the China-proposed position paper on the political settlement of the Ukraine crisis with “deep skepticism,” and Kirby said “we do not believe that this is a step toward a just and durable peace.”

“The US rejects any effort that is conducive to easing the situation, as it always hopes to escalate the tension and use Ukraine as a pawn to weaken Russia. The US wants to punish Russia in a ruthless and uncompromising way,” Li Haidong, a professor at the Institute of International Relations at the China Foreign Affairs University, told the Global Times on Saturday.

Such zero-sum mentality and “winner-or-loser” geopolitical game between major powers is extremely dangerous not only to Russia, Ukraine and Europe, but also to the world, Li said.

In contrast, Xi’s upcoming visit to Russia, viewed as a trip of friendship, cooperation and peace, is expected to further promote China-Russia cooperation and contribute to global peace and development. Especially after China brokered a deal between Saudi Arabia and Iran recently, many observers raised expectations for whether China will play a crucial role in political settlement in the Ukraine crisis when Beijing has open communication channels with both countries.

On Thursday, Chinese Foreign Minister Qin Gang told his Ukrainian counterpart Dmytro Kuleba that China is very concerned about potential escalation of the Ukraine crisis, and hopes talks can be resumed as soon as possible to promote a political solution.

Some experts said any possibility for China to mediate the Russia-Ukraine conflict could not be ruled out as the global community has been anticipating China’s constructive role in global and regional conflicts.

“The US looks at the world differently than Moscow and Beijing. For them, prosperity depends on hegemony, and all practical policy must support this fundamental goal. Therefore, the West’s most important tool is pressure, and China and Russia’s most significant tool is cooperation,” Timofei Bordachev, Moscow-based Valdai Club program director, told the Global Times.

The China-Russia partnership is not directed against anyone else in the world – it is not an instrument of war, but the instrument of peace, Bordachev said.

China-Russia comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era is conducive to helping maintain the global security, stability and helping tackle pressing security and economic issues, which has great significance to the world. China-Russia relations – setting a good example for international relations – won’t be kidnapped by the US-led West, experts said.

“Badmouthing China’s role in promoting peace in the Ukraine crisis is because China’s possible efforts would interrupt the US’ long-term plan to weaken Russia and control the Europe,” Cui Heng, an assistant research fellow from the Center for Russian Studies of East China Normal University, told the Global Times on Saturday. “Also, China’s role in promoting peace talks also shows the country rising influence as major power, a development that the US cannot accept,” Cui said.

Even though the US does not accept the fact that China is gaining power and influence on the global stage, it has to face the fact that the upcoming visit of China’s top leader to Russia is widely expected to contribute to the peaceful settlement of the Ukraine crisis and will help advance all-out practical cooperation between China and Russia.

Sourdough Chocolate Cranberry Cake

ec896fb9b78bfba9cd8271710bc6348d
ec896fb9b78bfba9cd8271710bc6348d

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup sourdough starter
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 cup powdered milk
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 2 eggs
  • 3 (1 ounce) squares melted semi-sweet chocolate
  • 1 16 ounce can whole berry cranberry sauce

Instructions

  1. In a large, non-metallic bowl, combine sourdough starter, water, flour and powdered milk.
  2. Let ferment uncovered, for 2 to 3 hours in a warm place until bubbly and a clear sour milk odor develops.
  3. Heat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Coat a 9 x 13-inch pan with cooking spray and, using a small sieve or shaker, dust lightly with cocoa powder.
  4. In a separate large bowl, mix together sugar, oil, salt, vanilla extract, cinnamon and baking soda.
  5. Add eggs, melted semi-sweet baking chocolate, and cranberry sauce.
  6. Combine the mixtures together and stir until well blended.
  7. Pour into a 9 x 13-inch baking pan.
  8. Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 30 to 35 minutes, or until knife inserted into center comes out clean.
  9. Cool at least 10 minutes before serving, excellent served slightly warm.
  10. Garnish by sifting confectioners sugar onto a paper doily or just dollop spoonsful of whole berry cranberry sauce on top of each serving of cake. This cake can also be baked in two- 8 inch round layer cake pans, baking time is decreased to 20 to 25 minutes or until knife inserted comes out clean.
  11. Another can of whole berry cranberry sauce can be spread generously between and on top of the unfrosted layered cake rounds for an impressive look during the holidays!

A new study by Chinese scientists has made startling revelations about North Korea’s missile program and capability.

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...claiming that an ICBM fired by Pyongyang could reach the central United States in just over half an hour.

Beijing-based defense scientists claim to have simulated a North Korean intercontinental ballistic missile attack on the continental United States.

The team opined that if the American missile defense network failed to intercept it, the North Korean missile could strike the center US in 1,997 seconds, or almost 33 minutes, Hong Kong-based South China Morning Post reported.

Similar studies by Chinese researchers had typically avoided mentioning specific nations or regions, especially when the results were publicized.

This report came when North Korea launched another Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM), its fourth in a week, amid joint naval drills underway between the United States and South Korea. The missile traveled nearly 1,000 kilometers before landing in the waters of Japan.

According to Japan’s defense ministry, it was an ICBM that soared over 6,000 kilometers for around 70 minutes.

Less than a month ago, North Korea launched an ICBM, which prompted a UN emergency meeting and G7 criticism. ICBMs are particularly of concern because of their long range.

According to experts, such missiles launched from North Korea may be able to reach the US mainland. This precedent becomes even more perilous as it is believed that Pyongyang has developed ICBMs capable of carrying multiple warheads.

Against that backdrop, the Chinese study assumes more significance as the tensions between Pyongyang and Washington have risen. Although the US Indo-Pacific Command said that these launches did not threaten the US immediately, North Korea has made several statements covertly threatening the country.

China’s Study On North Korean ICBM Is Alarming

The study simulates the launch of North Korea’s Hwasong-15 missile, which was first fired in 2017.

It is a two-stage, nuclear-capable missile with an effective range of 13,000 kilometers, according to the Chinese team led by Tang Yuyan from the Beijing Institute of Electronic System Engineering, a leading research center in China’s aerospace and defense sector.

According to research by Tang and her coworkers published on February 15 in the Chinese-language journal Modern Defense Technology, a Hwasong-15 missile was launched from Sunchon, a city in South Pyongan province in central North Korea.

Columbia, in the central US state of Missouri, was the intended target of the simulation. The Chinese team estimated an alert would take around 20 seconds to reach the US missile defense command.

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2023 03 19 11 18

Within 11 minutes, the first interceptor missiles would launch from Alaska’s Fort Greely. If they were unsuccessful, a second wave of interceptors would be launched from California’s Vandenberg Space Force Base.

The simulation, however, revealed that despite its great power, the US missile defense network has holes in its “kill chain” mechanism to recognize and defend against an attack that could be used by an adversary.

One of the key goals of Tang’s team’s study was to gauge how well the US missile defense system could safeguard the country. According to their simulation, it might be effective against conventional ballistic missiles.

This simulation by the team revealed that the US’ current surveillance systems in space, the seas, and on land occasionally had trouble keeping track of the Korean missile, particularly during ascent and fall in midcourse flight.

They calculated that the US missile defense system would be overwhelmed if North Korea fired multiple missiles with more than 40 warheads or decoys. The largest US military installation in the western Pacific Ocean, Guam, was the target of researchers’ missile strike simulation.

According to the Chinese analysis, if the North Korean missile took a unique trajectory with an extraordinarily high altitude, the US could send four waves of intercepting missiles from its foreign military facilities, such as Japan, although some might miss their targets.

The report stated that the US currently does not have the capabilities to deal with [such targets] in near space due to North Korea also creating hypersonic glide weapons that may alter course in the atmosphere.

Previously, a set of media reports had indicated that China’s newly commissioned nuclear-powered submarine could pose a significant threat to the US mainland. China’s new Type 094A, or Jin class nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine SSBM, can fire the JL-3, or Julang (Big Wave) SLBM with a range of over 10,000 kilometers.

This means the missile fired from this submarine could easily reach the mainland United States.

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main qimg ed93dd56594d7d85e153d60b610e9b31

Although the US has maintained a credible defense against ballistic missiles, it has yet to develop a system that can intercept and shoot down hostile hypersonic missiles.

There are many strange places in this world. I personally discovered a very strange place in the mountains of Guizhou. After a long professional stay in Chongping, I went on a motorcycle tour through the mountains of Guizhou. As I drove along the Guanhe River, I discovered many small towns that were actually squeezed between the river and the mountains, it seemed.

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main qimg a2ecb27ab1e2a806f0b1d2f98c75c058 lq

There were entire towns that stretched along the river a few meters wide. That seemed completely surreal, especially since the high-rise buildings reminded you of really big cities, but in terms of the number of inhabitants, they were rather small towns. For two days I drove past such places.

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main qimg 629f271a105b5579c86030dbf2690a78 lq

Members of Mexico’s “Gulf Cartel” who kidnapped and killed Americans have been tied up, dumped in the street and handed over to authorities with an apology letter

A letter purportedly from the Mexican cartel allegedly behind the kidnapping and subsequent kidnapping and killing of 2 Americans last week claimed it has dealt with the members “involved and responsible” for the incident, handing them over for authorities to detain.

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Handwritten apology note translated:

“The Gulf Cartel Grupo Escorpiones strongly condemns the events of last Friday, March 3 in which unfortunately an innocent working mother died and four American citizens were kidnapped, of which two died.

For this reason, we decided to hand over those directly involved and responsible for the acts, who at all times acted under their own determination and indiscipline and against the rules in which the [Gulf Cartel] always operates.”

Members of a Mexican cartel kidnapped four Americans who traveled across the border from Brownsville, Texas, to Matamoros, Tamaulipas, last week. Two of the Americans and an innocent Mexican bystander died during the incident, according to U.S. Ambassador to Mexico Ken Salazar.

Confessions Of A Woman Who Just Confronted Her Childhood Abuser

I knew he would lie. I knew he would deny deny deny. I knew he’d get angry and throw out whatever he could to hurt me. I didn’t care and I didn’t budge. It happened. I remember it all. I’m not the only one it happened to. I known the truth and I didn’t flinch, not even once.

I told my mom first. I had told her once before, but she didn’t believe me. I was 17 and I was afraid. My dad is a narcissist, screams and goes berserk if things aren’t EXACTLY how he wants them. He would pin the family against one another, we would all take turns being the one berated all day. If it wasn’t you then you best hop on the berate bandwagon or your next. The entire day you were followed around being yelled at for how you do everything wrong, and all the family would have to agree. You go up the stairs too slow, you don’t sit quietly enough on the couch, the way you speak, the way you smell, you’re not smiling anymore, everything. Spoken to like you are dirt hoping tomorrow won’t be your day again. If you fought back you were hit, shoved into whatever table or thing was near you. You guys get it. I was afraid.

My mom is very kind but very meek. She also wanted a perfect family and when people were over that’s the picture he would paint. She’d turn a blind eye to pretty much everything.

When I was 17 they found a poem I wrote about hating him. He demanded to know why on earth you could hate your daddy so much. I felt so backed into a corner, over and over I was being drilled. So I said it “you molested me”. Well he blew up “I never did that! You are a LIAR! I would never touch my kids! Maybe I did but I forgot!” Yes I am serious about that last part. Those were his exact words. They demanded to know what he did, but I was so afraid. I couldn’t get it out. I never talked about it before, I couldn’t do anything but cry. They called me a liar and a few days later my mom reminded me to get him a father’s day present. I didn’t dare bring it up again.

That was 11 years ago.

I’m now living in an entirely different state with my amazing husband. But, he was still in my life and ruining it. Even just the sound of his voice when I would call my mom made me want to SCREAM. This man is a MONSTER. He destroyed me. As if the emotional and physical abuse wasn’t enough he took every piece of innocence from me. People freak even imagining one of their parents reaching into their pants to get them off, and thats my life. It never goes away, it’s in my head forever.

I had to cut him out. Forever.

So, my parents came to visit and I sat my mom down alone and flat out told her. I told her everything. Every detail. She cried. I hope she believed me.

Then I sat down with her, my husband and my father.

I stood my ground, I told him I wanted him to get help but this was the last time he would ever see me because he molested me. He blew, finger pointed, called me a liar, said he didn’t remember anything like that. I just kept repeating firmly “I don’t believe you.” Never breaking eye contact, my husband said there wasn’t even a tremble in my voice. Every time he threw something else at me I knocked it down calmly and firmly “you can talk about that in therapy. But there is no need to lie to me, I don’t believe you. I remember and I was so young, I know you remember. You are a child molester.”

Boy did my calmness get him angry! I have never seen him sweat and squander like that EVER. After about 5/10 minutes of him changing his story and squawking I said “you can leave my house now”. And he said in the most degrading tone possible “what makes YOU so righteous?!” I know he meant it as an insult but damm I took it as a complement.

That was yesterday. I am excited for my new life. I feel like the rabbit from the velveteen rabbit, like I’m finally becoming real. I just can’t believe it, I can’t believe that person who stood up to him, so calmly and confidently, was me.

I about passed out laughing when the book keeper goes to check Drysdale’s heart and says, ”Oh, I forgot, he hasn’t got one”.

Artist Illustrates How Doing Anything Is Much Better When There Are Animals Around

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Chilling alone is fine, but chilling with animals is the best. There’s nothing better than vibing with your furry friends; you get the best of both worlds. You still can feel like you have company without the unnecessary noise that comes from hanging around with other people. Let us introduce you to an artist who portrayed it perfectly in her mini illustration series.

Peijin (previously here) is a self-taught freelance artist based in Munich, Germany. Just a little bit more than two years ago, she gave up her engineering career and fully committed herself to art. Her decision was supported by her fans and clients alike, so she never looked back. Besides her illustrations, she also makes tutorials, process videos and studies, as she believes that if she can be an artist, everyone can! Drawing is her true love, and she feels many people feel the same way.

More: Artstation, Instagram, Patreon h/t: boredpanda

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40 Newspaper Headlines That Push The Limits Of Human Stupidity

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5db7f6eaebfe9 stupid funny newspaper headlines 19 5db2bdce120d2 700

Creating a good headline for an article is an art within itself. Just think about it: you basically have to describe your whole text using just one sentence. Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you produce such a mind-bogglingly dumb headline, that people still remember it 20 years later. Stupid newspaper headlines are never truly forgotten. Unfortunate wordplay, lazy editing and poor math – it takes some creativity to come up with headlines like that.

h/t: demilked

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https://youtu.be/uJ33GaBpSbY

2023 03 19 13 5e3
2023 03 19 13 5e3

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2023 03 19 13 53

Austrian man admits to locking up daughter, fathering her children

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2023 03 19 13 56

A 73-year-old Austrian man confessed Monday to imprisoning his daughter in a windowless cell in his basement for 24 years and fathering seven children with her, police said.

“He admitted that he locked his daughter, who was 18, in the cellar, repeatedly had sex with her and that he is the father of her seven children,” said Franz Polzer, head of the criminal investigations unit in the province of Lower Austria.

Polzer said the man, Josef Fritzl, who was earlier identified only as Josef F., also confessed to tossing the body of a newborn baby boy into an incinerator when the infant died shortly after birth.

“We are being confronted with an unfathomable crime,” said Austrian Interior Minister Guentter Platter.

Hans-Heinz Lenze, a local official in the town of Amstetten, said the man’s wife “apparently had no idea” of what was going on. She and the suspect had seven children of their own.

Drugged, imprisoned in 1984

Three of the daughter’s offspring were raised in the family home while the rest were kept hidden in the basement with their imprisoned mother.

“You have to imagine that this woman’s world [just] fell apart,” Lenze said.

Police said Sunday that a 42-year-old woman, identified as Elisabeth, told them her father lured her into the basement of the family home in 1984, and drugged and handcuffed her before imprisoning her.

Photos were released Monday showing the basement cell where the woman was held. It included a small bathroom and a narrow passageway leading to a tiny bedroom.

Investigators say an electronic lock with a keyless entry system and a soundproof door apparently kept the woman from escaping the cell, which was constructed of reinforced concrete.

Police picked up the woman and her father on Saturday at a hospital in a nearby town, where one of the surviving children was rushed unconscious with a serious, undisclosed illness.

3 children never went outside

In her statement, Elisabeth said her father began sexually abusing her when she was 11.

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2023 03 19 13 58

An outside view of the house in Amstetten, Austria, where a 73-year-old man said he kept his daughter imprisoned, repeatedly raping her and fathering her seven children. ((Helmut Stamberg/Associated Press))

Her father allegedly locked her in a room in the cellar on Aug. 28, 1984. The woman was reported missing the next day and a month later, a letter surfaced, allegedly written by her, saying she didn’t want to be found.

Police said the woman appeared “greatly disturbed” during questioning and agreed to talk only after authorities assured her that she would no longer have contact with her father, and that her children would be cared for.

The woman and her children are undergoing psychiatric care, officials say.

Three of the children were raised upstairs in the family house by Elisabeth’s father and his wife. They went to school and lived relatively normal lives, according to police. The other three remained locked up in the cellar with their mother and none of them had been outside before last week.

Similar incident unearthed in 2006

Neighbours said Fritzl and his wife were quiet but friendly, and frequently shopped in local stores and talked to members of the community.

The CBC’s David Common, reporting from Austria, said the story is causing shock and revulsion across the country.

“It’s a very embarrassing day for Austria,” Common said, “because this is the second time something like this has happened here.”

Natascha Kampusch was 10 years old when she was kidnapped in 1998 on her way to school in Vienna. She was held by Wolfgang Priklopil for nearly nine years in a small dungeon in his home in the suburbs.

Hours after Kampusch escaped in August 2006, Priklopil killed himself by jumping in front of a train.

Lineup begins HERE

Now, youse guys must know that I do not frequent these kinds of KTV’s as I am in China. I go to a different kind of KTV. One which is more *cough* high class…

This is what MM life is actually like.

Lineup starts HERE

Girl in Dungeon Basement Case Held 10 Years, Tortured by Captors

Linda Weston’s niece was kidnapped and tortured for a decade.

ByCOLLEEN CURRY
October 19, 2011, 10:06 PM
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Oct. 19, 2011– A 19-year-old girl who has been missing for 10 years has been found with open wounds, burn marks, scars, and broken bones by police investigating the alleged basement dungeon and kidnapping ring in Philadelphia.

Beatrice Weston, who was taken at the age of 8 by accused dungeon ring-leader Linda Weston, is now in a Philadelphia hospital recovering from the ongoing cruelty and torture by her captors, according to Philadelphia police spokesman Lt. Ray Evers. Linda Weston is the girl’s aunt, and police said she took her niece after a family feud with her sister, Vicki Weston.

The girl was found two days after police uncovered a basement dungeon in which four mentally handicapped adults were held against their will. Police have arrested and charged Linda Weston, 51, her daughter Jean McIntosh, 32, Weston’s boyfriend Thomas Gregory, 47, and Eddie Wright, 49, with kidnapping, false imprisonment, and other related charges.

Police pleaded with media to let the girl heal in privacy at the hospital.

“This girl was beaten, tortured, absolutely the worst thing you can see one person do to another,” said Police Commissioner Charles Ramsey.

Evers said Wednesday after finding the girl that he would be happy to see the four prosecuted wherever the punishments would be the harshest.

“We’re going to prepare to prosecute this here or, without hyperbole, wherever the prisons are going to be the worst. Federal prisons might be too nice,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before on a living person, that kind of cruelty over and over again. No penalty is too harsh to the people that did this, absolutely no penalty,” Evers said.

The lieutenant said the girl’s torture in the “house of horrors” included signs of a spoon being heated and then burned into her skin. She had fractured bones that healed over incorrectly, and bones in her ankles showed the effects of being shot repeatedly with something like a pellet gun, he said. There are open wounds on her head, which she had covered with a hood when police found her. She had scars over her face, arms, and legs, he said.

Police found Beatrice Weston among a group of 10 children and teens who were located Tuesday after Florida police tipped off Philadelphia cops that there may be more victims and that Weston had been living with at least seven children in her last home in West Palm Beach, Fla..

One of the individuals found was Weston, and another was McIntosh, whom police arrested. Two other adult males were initially taken into custody and then released.

Police also took six children into protective custody, two of whom were the children of a mentally handicapped couple who were held captive by Weston for years, police said. The children, ages 2 and 5, were severely malnourished. Evers noted that the 2-year-old girl looked like a 6-month-old baby when she was found.

Police are trying to identify the rest of the group, including three other young adults and four other children. Weston and Gregory’s son, Thomas Gregory, Jr., was not among those taken into custody and has not been arrested in connection with the crimes.

Benita Rodriguez, a 15-year-old girl from Florida who traveled to Philadelphia to be with Thomas Gregory, Jr., was also found by police on Monday. The girl told her mother during a phone call that once she arrived in Philadelphia, Weston would not let her contact anyone back home, according to ABC News affiliate WPBF.

“Once (the victims) were out there in Philadelphia, she was not allowed to be outside,” Rodriguez’s mother, Juana Rodriguez, told WPBF.

Dungeon Case Finds Two Girls Who Have Been Missing

A task force is working around the clock to try and locate as many as 50 possible victims of the alleged fraud and kidnapping ring that is said to have spanned a number of states including Texas, Florida, North Carolina, Virginia, and now Pennsylvania.

Police identified the four Philadelphia victims as Derwin McLemire, 41, of North Carolina; Herbert Knowles, 40 of Virginia; and Tamara Breeden, 29, and Edwin Sanabria, 31, both of Philadelphia.

Detectives also found dozens of identification cards, power-of-attorney forms and other documents. Philadelphia police formed a task force to investigate the case as authorities try to find as many as 50 more possible fraud victims, Officer Jillian Russell said.

The four defendants are believed to have moved from Texas to Florida to Philadelphia with the kidnapped individuals, fleeing each place when authorities began to close in on them, according to Florida authorities.

A spokesman for West Palm Beach said that the city had shut off the water supply to the group’s home multiple times, but Weston or other individuals in the home had stolen water meters and illegally turned their water back on. The group was eventually evicted from their home in West Palm Beach, Fla.., according to WPBF.

Gregory Thomas was also arrested twice while living in West Palm Beach, once for burglary and once for grand larceny. He was convicted only of the burglary.

Banks: Getting Very Much Worse; Very Much Faster

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As of Saturday morning, 18 March 2023, the Banking crisis is getting a lot worse; fast.  CREDIT SUISSE CFO TEAMS ARE BEING CALLED IN TO WORK OVER THE WEEKEND TO CLEAN OUT THEIR DESKS!

This is just days after Credit Suisse received a $54 BILLION assistance package from the Swiss National Bank.

Word from corporate contacts says that Credit Suisse is “Weighing options and is under pressure to merge with UBS.”

Swiss regulators informed their US and UK counterparts on Friday night that the merger of the two banks is their Plan A in hope of preventing a total loss of confidence in Credit Suisse. The Swiss National Bank would like a simple and uncomplicated solution before the markets open on Monday. However, there is no guarantee that an agreement will be reached in the discussions.

There were also rumors overnight that US firm Blackrock wanted to make a bid for Credit Suisse, but that rumor was quickly refuted.

Meanwhile, Global stock markets tumbled again Friday over continuing fears of a broader banking crisis, despite elected officials’ pledges to shore up banks that may be in trouble.

Shares of First Republic Bank tanked 30% Friday despite $30 Billion of support from other banks.  First Republic Bank stock ended the week down 72%.

An interesting note: The Balance Sheet of the US Federal Reserve jumped to $8.69 TRILLION on March 15, up from $8.39 TRILLION on March 8.  They’re literally making “money” out of thin air by simply adding digits to computers which “creates” money in accounts.

They don’t have the money for that! If they try to run the printing press to cover that amount of debt, the dollar would collapse overnight. Foreign countries would dump all their dollar reserves. People would drain their accounts to go and buy hard assets while they still could.

Today’s financial turmoil is beginning to look a LOT like the 1980’s movie “Rollover” starring Kris Kristofferson, Jane Fonda, and Hume Cronin.  Here’s a scene from that movie showing what a world economic collapse looks like:

It __appears__ to many people that this is exactly where we are all heading.

13 Popular Fast Food Cheeseburgers, Ranked Worst To Best

By Dani Zoeller/Updated: March 16, 2023 8:27 pm EST

Few things are as quintessentially American as the cheeseburger. Between cookouts, road trips, lunch breaks, or those middle-of-the-night greasy goodness cravings, cheeseburgers are a comforting, delicious go-to option. From humble offerings with a beef patty, cheese, ketchup, mustard, and pickle, the cheeseburger has become something of a statement piece for many fast food establishments. After all, if you strip away the condiments, cheeseburgers offer a relatively simple canvas.

Many fast food stops have really dressed up the humble cheeseburger with unique and delicious spins on the classic sandwich. With so many options available, it can be challenging to determine which fast food chain serves up the best. There are plenty of top contenders with lots of factors that help set the individual burgers apart. From burgers named for favorite football players to ones so small they are sold by the sack, we’re convinced that there’s a cheeseburger for everyone, no matter how simple or gourmet your preference.

13. Dairy Queen
Dairy Queen Cheeseburger

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2023 03 17 19 54

Dairy Queen is mainly known for its delicious frozen treats, particularly the famous Blizzard. However, the chain also offers a variety of tasty burgers, including its classic cheeseburger and several Stackburger offerings.

The original Dairy Queen cheeseburger features the typical fare but is curiously missing onions. This classic burger is simple yet satisfying, and it has been a fan favorite for generations. Dairy Queen calls its larger burgers Stackburgers because they have multiple patties. The Two Cheese Deluxe option comes with both American and white cheddar cheese. This burger also includes onions, which even the original Stackburger does not have. If you’re a fan of bacon, you can also add it to any of the burgers for a nice touch.

For those who like their burgers with a bit of heat, Dairy Queen also offers the Flamethrower Stackburger. This burger includes a zingy DQ FlameThrower sauce, melted Pepper Jack cheese, jalapeño bacon, tomato, and even lettuce. Alternatively, if you’re looking for a more indulgent option, the Loaded A.1. Steakhouse Signature Stackburger is perfect. This one features beef patties, A.1. Thick & Hearty Steak Sauce, creamy peppercorn sauce, Applewood smoked bacon, American cheese, and onion rings. Though interesting options, while these burgers are just ok, Dairy Queen is simply a better ice cream stop than a burger joint.

12. McDonald’s
McDonald’s cheeseburger options

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2023 03 17 19 55

When you think of classic fast-food cheeseburgers, it’s almost impossible to ignore McDonald’s. After all, small towns and large cities across the United States tend to have at least one, and McDonald’s has even stretched to become a global franchise. In fact, in 1948, when McDonald’s became more of a walk-up burger stand than the barbecue restaurant it originated as, a cheeseburger was one of the only four food items on the menu, alongside hamburgers, potato chips, and pie.

Today, the only burger McDonald’s offers without cheese is its classic hamburger. Everything else, from the Big Mac to the quarter pounder and even the McDouble, offers at least one slice of American cheese. Most McDonald’s burgers also come with onions, pickles, ketchup, and mustard. The additional toppings set the different cheeseburger variations apart on the menu. For example, the Big Mac has an extra bun in the middle of the sandwich, while the Quarter Pounder Cheese Deluxe adds shredded lettuce.

The McDonald’s cheeseburger may be one of the simplest fast food cheeseburger options you can find, but it continues to be so popular because it is delicious. The truth is Mcdonald’s sells around 75 burgers each second, and many American children grow up eating happy meals from Mcdonald’s, so it offers a heavy dose of nostalgia. All told, however, there’s just not much special about a McDonald’s burger. There are better fast food restaurants, even if McDonald’s is the one most ingrained into our childhoods.

11. Burger King
Cornell Haynes Jr meal

Whopper main loaded 1526x1080 1
Whopper main loaded 1526×1080 1

Burger King was founded in 1954, and since then, it has served approximately 11 million guests. Over the years, Burger King has introduced several new menu items, including Chicken Fries and the Impossible Whopper, a vegetarian version of the Whopper. Burger King is well-known for its delicious burgers, but in a market flooded with fast-food chains offering similar items, each restaurant must have a spin on the classic offerings. Burger King’s distinctive spin is that its burgers are cooked over an open flame using a fire broiler, giving them a smoky and charred flavor that is hard to replicate.

Burger King offers a variety of burgers, including the classic Whopper, their signature burger. Interestingly, the Whopper does not have cheese, but several other burgers on the menu do, such as the King burgers and melts.

In the late 1990s, Burger King introduced a burger available in many Wisconsin affectionately called The Gilbert Burger. It was named after Gilbert Brown, a former defensive lineman for the Green Bay Packers football team. The Gilbert Burger was a giant, messy cheeseburger with doubled cheese, lettuce, tomato, mayo, onion, and ketchup. As Gilbert Brown didn’t like pickles, they were left out of the burger.

We love Burger King for its newer offerings, but the basic burger suffers from the same issue as McDonald’s: It just isn’t unique enough, even with the flame-grilled aspect.

10. Checkers and Rally’s
Checkers and Rally’s cheeseburger

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2023 03 17 19 56

Checkers and Rally’s are known for their delicious and classic cheeseburgers with a vintage look. Despite being the same restaurant, they are called different names depending on the restaurant’s location. Rally’s originated in Tennessee in 1984, while Checkers is from Alabama and was established in 1986. Then, in 1999, they merged through a stock swap.

One of the most classic burgers at Checkers and Rally’s is the All American Cheeseburger. This traditional burger includes a beef patty, melted cheese, pickles, ketchup, and mustard. But if you’re looking for a more sophisticated burger, the Cheese Champ is a great choice. It includes all the components of the All American Cheeseburger, but with the addition of tomato, red onion, iceberg lettuce, and mayonnaise.

For something unique, you can order a burger featuring those famous, seasoned fries. The Double Fry Lover’s Burger is a cheeseburger with fries, as well as basic condiments. Since Checkers and Rally’s are known well for french fries, it is a popular choice among customers wanting to enjoy the best of both worlds in one burger. And this is one of the reasons we enjoy these restaurants. Even still, the different varieties of burgers make those new to the menu a little overwhelming and even difficult to decode.

9. Culvers
Culver’s Double Cheeseburger

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2023 03 17 19 57

Culver’s is a beloved Wisconsin institution known for its mouthwatering ButterBurgers. Made with never-frozen beef, Culver’s cooks prepare these burgers to perfection and top each with a buttered bun to add that extra layer of flavor. Culver’s ButterBurger Cheese is the staple Culver’s cheeseburger. Topped with red onion, pickle, tomato, ketchup, and mustard, it is the perfect option for a simple and delicious meal.

For those who prefer a more loaded burger, Culver’s offers several other options, including the Deluxe, Bacon Deluxe, and Mushroom and Swiss ButterBurgers. These burgers all come with cheese, adding an extra layer of flavor and richness to the already delicious burger. In fact, it’s worth noting that the only burger option on the menu without cheese is the original ButterBurger.

No matter which cheeseburger you choose, we think you’ll love Culver’s attention to detail, hospitality, and great pride in sourcing its beef and cheese from local producers, ensuring that every bite is packed with flavor and quality. However, these burgers can be elusive since Culver’s isn’t available everywhere.

8. Portillo’s
Portillo’s cheeseburger and fries

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2023 03 17 19 5g7

Portillo’s is a cherished restaurant chain. It is known to be a classic Chicagoland restaurant and was founded in Villa Park, Illinois by Dan Portillo in 1963. Today, the chain has expanded to over 70 locations across the country. We love it for those delicious, drug-through-the-garden Chicago-style hot dogs, but the restaurant also serves up a delightful menu featuring cheese fries, Italian beef, and many delicious items, including cheeseburgers that are sure to satisfy.

You can order the cheeseburger in either a single or double patty option. It’ll come with a freshly toasted old-fashioned style bun with cheese, mayo, pickles, ketchup, lettuce, tomato slice, and red onion. For some smokiness, add some bacon. More than many of our other favorites, this burger tastes and feels like it was cooked right at home on the family grill. Though Portillo’s has much more popular favorites on its menu, the cheeseburger certainly shouldn’t be ignored if you’re really craving a burger, but we’ll always struggle to go to Portillo’s and not order a Chicago-style hot dog.

7. Wendy’s
Wendy’s Dave’s Double

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2023 03 17 19 59

Wendy’s first restaurant opened in 1969. From the beginning, the franchise intended to make itself distinctive from its competitors. Instead of eating at tables designed to rush you out, Wendy’s created dining rooms where you felt like guests rather than customers. The tables were even lit by stained glass lamps rather than overly bright and boring lights.

When it came to burgers, Wendy’s was different too. Instead of using a circle patty, Dave Thomas introduced the square burger. Because it would stick out from a circle bun, the squared Corners allowed Wendy’s to show off the juiciness of the burger. But it wasn’t just the shape that was different; then, like now, Wendy’s burgers are cooked from fresh beef rather than frozen beef.

Like McDonald’s, the simple hamburger is the only burger Wendy’s offers without cheese. In recent years, more creative options like the Bourbon Bacon Cheeseburger and even the Pretzel Bacon Pub Cheeseburger have been added to the menu, and, yes, they all include cheese. To us, you really can’t do better than Dave’s originals. These come in single, double, and triple options with the same number of burger patties. However, the single cheeseburger already comes with two cheese slices. For us, Wendy’s makes one of the best cheeseburgers readily available through a drive-through window. Even still, these are a little on the greasy side.

6. White Castle
White Castle cheese sliders

2023 03 17 19 5gs9
2023 03 17 19 5gs9

White Castle is famous for its small, square burgers called sliders. The story of White Castle began in 1921 when Billy Ingram started selling sliders for just five cents each. These burgers were so small and inexpensive that they could be sold by the sack, which became a catchy slogan for the chain. Over the years, White Castle has become an iconic name in the fast-food industry. In fact, it helped popularize the concept of fast food as we know it today.

White Castle’s cheeseburger made its debut in 1962. The cheese slider is a beef burger with grilled onions and your choice of American, jalapeño, or smoked cheddar cheese. You can also add bacon or even double up that burger. Another cheeseburger option includes the 1921 Slider, which includes caramelized onions, cheddar cheese, a slice of Roma tomato, lettuce, and pickles.

When it comes to White Castle, these burgers are simply a classic, and since they are some of the original fast food cheeseburgers, we’re just in love with the rich history here. Simply put: White Castle does burgers and cheeseburgers well.

5. Sonic Drive-In
Sonic Drive-In cheeseburger

2023 03 17 20 00
2023 03 17 20 00

For years, Sonic’s cheeseburger has been a beloved fast food classic that continues to delight customers. It boasts a juicy beef patty, melted cheese, diced onions, lettuce, pickles, tomato, ketchup, and mayo, making it stand out from other fast food burgers. Sonic also offers a double cheeseburger with two beef patties and more cheese to cater to those with bigger appetites. And if you’re looking to take your burger up a notch, you can add bacon for an extra dose of savory flavor.

Sonic also has a plain cheeseburger with just a bun, beef, and cheese for a simpler option. However, the Quarter Pounder is an excellent choice for those craving more flavor. It features two beef patties, cheese, ketchup, mustard, and pickles, providing a more satisfying and flavorful meal.

Between the pebble ice, iconic drive-up, and delicious options, we love a Sonic cheeseburger. What makes Sonic even more appealing is its history as a drive-in restaurant, allowing customers to enjoy their burgers from the comfort of their own cars. Sonic’s first drive-in opened in Shawnee, Oklahoma, in 1953, and despite the decline of the drive-in concept in the fast food industry, Sonic has kept it as a staple of its identity.

4. Five Guys
Five Guys Cheeseburger

2023 03 17 20 0gs0
2023 03 17 20 0gs0

If you’re looking for a burger with a hefty price tag but a delicious taste, a Five Guys burger is going to be your best bet. Unlike some other burger restaurants, the menu at this favorite burger chain is pretty simple, but the real magic comes from all of those customizations you can add. You can choose from a variety of free toppings, including lettuce, pickles, onions, tomatoes, and more. Additionally, you can add premium toppings such as bacon, grilled mushrooms, or jalapeño peppers for an additional charge.

Though you might not know Five Guys for its buns, the sesame bun on each cheeseburger is actually the only proprietary item the restaurant offers. In fact, these buns are baked in restaurants fresh throughout the week. In addition to your juicy but rather greasy cheeseburger, you can also order a side of fries. Be ready, though, because you’ll be taking a lot of fries with you. We highly recommend the Cajun variety, and these fries, though separate from the burgers, certainly help elevate how much we love these cheeseburgers. We also adore the incredible number of customization options you have when ordering from Five Guys.

3. Shake Shack
Shake Shack cheeseburger

2023 03 17 20 01
2023 03 17 20 01

Shake Shack is a beloved American fast-food chain that has gained immense popularity for its delicious menu. For instance, the White Truffle Burger is a delectable treat featuring Fontina cheese with a rich and creamy white truffle sauce. It’s dressed with crispy onions on a perfectly toasted potato bun. If you prefer a classic cheeseburger, the ShackBurger is a perfect choice with all the usual loved trimmings. If you’re feeling a bit more adventurous, the SmokeShack will satisfy your taste buds with applewood-smoked bacon, chopped cherry peppers, and a ShackSauce.

Though Shake Shack began as a humble hot dog cart in New York City’s Madison Square Park over 20 years ago, it has expanded to over 300 locations worldwide. Still, its commitment to using high-quality ingredients and cooking techniques has remained unchanged. In addition to their burgers and hot dogs, Shake Shack also offers crave-worthy milkshakes that satisfy your sweet tooth.

2. In-N-Out Burger
In-N-Out Cheeseburger and fries

2023 03 17 20 02
2023 03 17 20 02

In-N-Out Burger is a widely beloved fast-food chain founded in 1948 by Harry Snyder in Baldwin Park, California. The fast food joint has primarily kept to the western United States, with most locations in California. In-N-Out Burger is known for its fresh, made-to-order burgers, fries, and shakes, and it has developed an enthusiastic group of worshipers and burger lovers.

One of In-N-Out’s signature items is the cheeseburger, made with toasted buns made from sponge dough, a thick slice of American cheese, beef, fresh or grilled onions, lettuce, tomato, and the company’s unique spread with unlisted ingredients. Though the burgers and cheeseburgers do not come with mustard, you can request that your burger or cheeseburger be made “Animal Style” as a mustard burger. For this unique twist, your cook will cook one side of the beef patty as normal and add mustard on the raw side. Then, when they flip over that patty, the mustard cooks right into the beef. This interesting cooking method made its appearance in 1961.

1. BurgerFi
CEO cheeseburger and fries

2023 03 17 20 sg02
2023 03 17 20 sg02

BurgerFi is a relatively new establishment that was founded in 2011 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. This burger joint prides itself on its chef-driven recipes and commitment to using only the freshest ingredients. BurgerFi does not take shortcuts in the kitchen and ensures that each burger is perfectly prepared.

One of the standout features of BurgerFi’s menu is its selection of cheeseburgers. They offer several burger options with cheese, but its flagship BurgerFi Burger does not have any cheese. For those who love a little heat, the SWAG (Spicy Wagyu) Burger is a must-try. It features a double premium Wagyu blend patty, charred jalapeños, candied spicy bacon, a helping of sweet tomato relish, pepper jack cheese, and a hot steak sauce.

We also love The CEO burger. This burger has a double premium Wagyu blend patty, homemade candied bacon-tomato jam, rich truffle aioli, and aged Swiss cheese. The sweet and savory combination of the bacon-tomato jam and truffle aioli elevates this burger to another level. If you’re ever near a BurgerFi, don’t hesitate to stop. It’s an excellent fast food restaurant that just knows how to make a cravable burger.

Herman Applesauce Spice Cake

apple spice cake orig
apple spice cake orig

Ingredients

  • 1 cup Herman
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/4 cup oil
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/2 cup applesauce
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon mace
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon allspice

Instructions

  1. Exactly as listed, beat all ingredients, adding each ingredient 1 at a time and beating 30 seconds after each addition. Beat 4 minutes after last addition.
  2. Pour into greased 9-inch square baking dish. Let batter “rest” 15 minutes uncovered then bake at 350 degrees F for 35-40 minutes or till wooden pick tests done.
  3. Cool 30 minutes and frost with Thin Vanilla Glaze.

Date Nut Cake: Use Applesauce Spice Batter above but stir into batter, 1 cup well chopped dates, moistened first and lightly floured, along with 1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans. Bake as otherwise directed in that recipe.

Mistakes are being made by Western governments, but what about you personally?

You know guys, I look back at all the mistakes I have made, and the stupid, stupid and so very embarrassing things that I did. I look at the opportunities that I had, but didn’t take, and the times where “paradise” was thrown at me, and I was oblivious to it. I look at my life in hindsight and the term “What the fuck were you thinking?” comes to mind.

I don’t know if youse guys understand. I mean, to say, I’ve really done some stupid things.

Sometimes over girls. Maybe mostly

Sometimes not being serious when I needed to, while at other times being too serious when I should have lightened up some.

I know that when I was born, I told myself not to forget: “this is going to be an adventuresome life!” Truth this. But so damn exhausting. I wonder if I was the fellow who scripted this life. Not that some committee “convinced” me to accept it. And in so scripting it, man! It’s be cray-Zee.

Makes you think. That I scheduled out this life that I am living.

That I made it. That I planned it. That I am living it…

Don’t you know.

Anyways, been thinking alot about “telltales” and “signposts”. I’ve been seeing a lot lately. Hum. What could that mean? I wonder…

Tell-tails.

Signposts.

Hum…

Today’s installment.

One of the many reasons why I love Asia… the KTV scenes are EDITED OUT. But you can see entering the establishment, and read my writings to discern what happens inside.

Hostess lineup HERE

 

Confessions of an Underachieving High IQ Individual

What’s it like to have an extremely high IQ?

Years ago, aged eighteen, I joined MENSA. I left after a year, having seen ample evidence to support the old description of MENSA as “The society for people impressed by their own intelligence”. In truth, the whole organization was creepy.

Anyway, when I applied they sent me an IQ test which you sent in to be scored. If you scored highly enough they asked you to attend a monitored exam. I scored 158 on the test at home and 159 when I went to London to be tested.

I have never encountered anything, either at school, university or at work that has been intellectually difficult for me.

I got an English degree and a law degree and barely worked to get either.

My memory has always served me well. I quickly see patterns that others don’t seem to notice (that’s your IQ test sewn up right there) and just find concepts come easier to me than to a lot of other people.

I do get bored with most subjects quite quickly but, so far, so good.

The problem, for me, lies in the fact that I never developed any sense of urgency about anything.

People will be impressed by how hard I worked on something when, in truth, I zipped through it in no time at all, paying it almost no attention.

I learned to let people think I have worked hard because it serves me well.

I’m essentially, and incurably, lazy.

I should have achieved so much more and I am bright enough to know it.

I’m fifty years old now, have been married twenty years and have three beautiful children, so my life is no train wreck, but I know I have shortchanged myself and my family.

I constantly look at others with envy; never of their material success but of their professional achievements and work ethic.

I could have done pretty much anything I wanted to do, but have ended up drifting into a sales career which pays well but gives me not one ounce of professional satisfaction or pride.

A high IQ is a great advantage but, in later life, it will torment you in ways the young cannot imagine.

If you don’t learn to make best use of it, a high IQ will remind you on an almost hourly basis that you threw it all away.

This is why so many underachieving people are unable to shut the fuck up about it – we become addicted in childhood to praise which dries up once more diligent, if less intelligent, peers start overtaking us.

Those who are not socially intelligent enough to recognize how obnoxious it is will mention their intelligence whenever they get a chance, imagining that other people care.

The world and its prizes belong, quite rightly, to hard working people, not intelligent ones.

Italian Chicken Packets

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f4cdcc8b455f6e7d30ca542bcce9c662

Ingredients

  • 1 chicken, quartered, or 2 pieces chicken per packet
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 garlic clove, minced
  • 4 fresh ripe tomatoes or 1 can drained tomatoes, chopped
  • 4 large green olives, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon celery salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon basil
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 4 bay leaves

Instructions

  1. Wash chicken quarters or pieces; drain and pat dry.
  2. Peel and chop tomatoes if using fresh tomatoes.
  3. Cut 4 (12-inch) pieces of aluminum foil, and grease one side of each with olive oil.
  4. Place a chicken quarter or chicken pieces in center of each piece of foil.
  5. Combine onion, garlic, tomatoes, olives, basil, oregano, celery salt, and pepper and mix well.
  6. Spoon sauce over each chicken packet. Top with a bay leaf.
  7. Fold foil into neat, sealed packages. Place on a cookie sheet.
  8. Bake at 425 degrees F for 40 minutes to one hour, until chicken is cooked.
  9. Serve from package.

People having a bad day

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2023 03 17 15 22

2.5 Tons of Uranium Ore Concentrate “Missing” from Libya Mine

The UN nuclear agency said on Wednesday that approximately 2.5 tons of natural uranium ore concentrate had gone missing from a site in Libya.

International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) chief Rafael Grossi told the organization’s member states that inspectors on Tuesday found that 10 drums containing uranium ore concentrate “were not present as previously declared” at the location in Libya.

The IAEA will conduct further activities “to clarify the circumstances of the removal of the nuclear material and its current location”, it said in a statement, without providing further details on the site.

Libya in 2003 abandoned a program to develop nuclear weapons under its long-ruling former dictator Mohammar Qadhafi.

The North African country has been mired in a political crisis since Qadhafi’s fall in 2011, with a myriad of militias forming opposing alliances backed by foreign powers.

It remains split between a nominally interim government in the capital Tripoli in the west, and another in the east backed by military strongman Khalifa Haftar.

China’s incredible space technology achievements are being recognized as well as their future potential. Thanks Alex for sharing this well researched video!

GT Voice: US’ hooligan nature laid bare in forced divesting of TikTok

Published: Mar 16, 2023 10:31 PM Updated: Mar 16, 2023 10:38 PM
There has been an absurd development of the political farce surrounding the crackdown on TikTok, which has recently been playing out in the US and spreading to Canada and some EU countries.

The Biden administration has threatened to ban TikTok if its Chinese owners don't divest their stakes in the popular video app, Reuters reported on Wednesday.

Even though TikTok has tried its best and done almost everything possible within the technical range in response to the so-called national security concerns, it remains helpless in the face of Washington's economic vandalism. 

The message is clear: if Washington cannot see TikTok ending up in an American hand, it will shut it down. Judging by the various bans and legislation involving TikTok that US politicians have been working on, it is not impossible for the worst to happen.

Yet, the Emperor's New Clothes surrounding national security concerns cannot hide US politicians' selfish and hooligan nature. The US claims that TikTok threatens to undermine US national security, but there is no evidence at all supporting the killing or robbery of such a globally successful app on national security grounds. The fact that Washington can suppress and even rob TikTok without justification and only because it is owned by a Chinese company is the latest manifestation that in order to maintain the US hegemony, Washington can make any rogue behavior that is against the law and business rules. This could serve as a wake-up call to companies around the world about the political risks of doing business in the US. If they are successful enough to pose a real challenge to American business titans, a rogue government in Washington will start finding fault with them.

TikTok has been seeking various technical solutions to soothe the so-called national security concerns. For instance, it has committed to spend $1.5 billion on a plan known as "Project Texas," which would enact a stronger firewall between TikTok and employees of its Beijing parent company. It has also built what it called a Transparency Center in Los Angeles to help legislators and journalists understand how it safeguards data and how its algorithms work.

But what has happened to the company has laid bare that there is no way to play by the rules to address the US politicians' so-called concerns. This is because it is not national security issues, but TikTok's ability to challenge the supremacy of the US internet industry, that is what really upsets Washington.

With more than 1 billion active users, TikTok is the most downloaded Chinese app in the world last year. The US has 113 million active TikTok users aged 18 and above, and a 2022 Pew Research Center survey of American teenagers aged 13 to 17 found that 67 percent say they use the app, which would add up to about 17.4 million teenagers.

By comparison, the development of some American internet giants has been overshadowed. Facebook-parent Meta Platforms announced on Tuesday it would cut 10,000 jobs this year, marking a second round of mass layoffs following the first one in fall 2022. Since 2020, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg has spoken out on several occasions about TikTok's threat to American values and technological dominance.

Of course, the US government's crackdown on Chinese technology companies has not only aimed to rob economic interests off Chinese companies, but also to curb China's high-tech development and to maintain the US technological and financial hegemony.

However, it should be noted that the fact that Washington cannot allow a Chinese company to have the potential to beat American internet giants in market competition doesn't mean China will allow its hegemony to rob Chinese companies of core technology. Behind TikTok's success is the rise of a new algorithmic technology, which is the representative of Chinese high-tech companies gaining an advantage in international markets.

When the former Trump administration tried to push through a forced sale of TikTok in 2020, China's Ministry of Commerce already made adjustment to its catalog of technologies that are subject to export bans or restrictions, which includes certain advanced information process algorithms. It goes without saying China will resist any bully-like robbery of Chinese companies' core technologies.

12 People Reveal What It’s Like To Have Loving Parents

 

1. Best way I can describe it is just a general feeling of security. Just knowing that they’re behind you 100%, and even when they’re mad at you it’s almost always because they’re trying to help you in the long run.

It’s not something you really appreciate until you get older and start to notice kids around you that have to deal with some pretty fucked up shit from their parents. It’s kind of slowly realizing how many bad things you’ve just never had to worry about thanks to your support system.

 

And, the best part is how your relationship changes as you get older. When they slowly start treating you like a fellow adult, and you get to see them as more of a whole person.

2. I had a loving mom, but a very shitty dad.

My mom supported me through all my school. Would go to different stores to get me supplies for my projects. She’d try to read the same books I had to so she could engage in critical thinking discussions. Attended my sporting events and cheered me on. Would lay in bed with me after I’d have a nightmare and run her fingers through my hair till I fell asleep. Would constantly reassure me that I was capable of pursuing my dreams. She made sure to tell me she loved me every day and give me hugs frequently. She’s an amazing woman and am so grateful I have her.

3. It’s safe to take risks, they’ll catch you

4. It’s affirming – that whatever goes wrong or right, they’re “there” for you.

Not everyone has this, I understand. But for those that do, it’s something for which to express gratitude.

5. I have loving parents and am an adult.

They are not perfect. I’ve got baggage. We’ve all made mistakes in our relationship.

I was never abused in any way.

As an adult, I have a very good relationship with them. Maybe the big thing is that we can forgive eachother easily for the errors of our past. Now it’s more like having very good friends than patents. And the roles are changing as I give more advice than I recieve these days.

6. I’m 25 (nearly 26). My parents were incredible growing up, and they still are. I grew up middle class, never extravagantly wealthy or anything, but we never had to worry about where our next meal was coming from.

My mom is a pretty tough lady. She’s a 3rd generation Italian immigrant and grew up on The Hill, St. Louis’s Italian neighborhood. She kept us (my brother, sister and I) in line and was never very sentimental, but she always cared for us and stuck up for us.

My dad is one of 6 siblings. He’s the second oldest. He is a very caring, sentimental guy. He’s 62 and retired now, but he worked as an information technology project manager for Anheuser Busch and made good money.

They both provided well for us, gave us what we needed and were fair in their discipline when they needed to be. I realize at my age now that they sacrificed a lot along the way – taking us to soccer and baseball games, dropping us off and picking us up from school every day, dealing with our being whiny and annoying, all kinds of stuff. I suppose I really did have the sort of classic, American dream childhood and I think I’ve always taken it for granted.

What was it like, OP asks? It was nice. It was comfortable when it needed to be and challenging when appropriate. I live on my own now and I’m going over to see them for Father’s Day today. I may mention a word of thanks for giving me a pretty nice life.

7. You just always feel 100% safe and that no matter what happens EVERYTHING will be okay.. it makes life way better.. you don’t have to seek companionship outside of your family as much because you already got that “loved” feeling from your family.. basically you rarely feel alone when you have loving parents/family.

8. The most beautiful part is watching your parents love EACH OTHER! Didn’t even see how this would be valuable until I became an adult and learned that not everyone gets to grow up seeing healthy love. This plays an important factor in the relationships I have and it’s the reason why I’m glad to say I’m a healthy SO. Whenever I hear about people I know in a abusive and toxic relationships, the first thing I always ask is how were their parents relationship…trauma is a real and unfortunate learning mechanism.

9. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s incredible. I was born to two loving parents who waited until they were well-off financially to have children. The only struggle I’ve ever had in my life is with depression (genetic/hereditary, nothing I can really do about it). I’m in college now, my parents pay for my expensive university with all their heart, they go out of their way to do little things to make me happy. My mom will surprise me with take out from my favorite restaurant, my dad will surprise me with basketball tickets or take me to see a movie. We have “arguments” but its 99% of the time over little things that we don’t remember 10 minutes later, and it rarely happens. We operate as a family, make decisions as a family. Like every important decision I make is not all on me, its as a family, so it’s low risk, high reward. A big part of parents being loving is parents being responsible, and my parents have always been responsible adults. I think its a special kind of cruel when a child loses the strong image of parents, or they never had it in the first place. I view my parents as strong figures, anchors. They have their moments of weakness but overwhelmingly are always strong.

I only hope to continue this and be an even better parent to my eventual kids.

10. Especially my mom told and still tells me that she loves me nearly every time we see each other.

They don’t tell me they are happy or mad with my life choices but tell me that I am the one who need to live with them and as long as I am happy, they are too.

They weren’t perfect though but they were able to apologise when they realised they deeply hurt me. They always explained their parenting choices and I never once in my life heard the famous “my house, my rules”.

And the last thing that is very important to me is that they are absolutely loyal to their kids. Other adults or family members like older cousins or so are mocking me? They would always step in and defend me if I weren’t able to. Always took my feelings seriously. I realised in elementary school that this wasn’t normal for most of the adults

 

11. Amazing! My mother is the most loving and caring mother you could ask for. Im 30, but still close as hell with my mum, visit every weekend and help her with the DIY side of things in her home. She’s slowly going blind which is heartbreaking to watch her struggle with day to day life!! Once she’s completely blind, I’m leaving my job to help look after her as much as i can. She gave me and my siblings the best upbringing she could of given us, so I have to repay her.

So yeah, its great having loving parents. You will do anything for each other.

12. The feeling of acceptance, understanding, and security. Also the immense knowing that they will do anything for you, even if it means that they go through hell.

My father and mother escaped from communist countries (Poland and Vietnam), and nearly died during it. Upon arriving they worked many jobs and went through hell in order to give us a good upbringing. My father owns a pizza shop, and in its early days he worked from 8am-3am, usually not being able to sleep beacuse of the stress of knowing that if something goes wrong, his family will starve. At the worst of it (that I know of), he had to set up a mattress at the back of the store, and slept there so he knew that it would be okay.

My parents have been through hell and back for us, and will in the future if they need to, nevertheless they gave us enough attension and love.

One of the biggest thing for me is trust, I trust them, and they do trust me. We have a mutual respect.

What if, Tomorrow Morning, You Wake Up to: “Banking Crisis Shuts ALL Banks – ATM’s Credit, Debit Cards ALL Shut Off”

What if tomorrow morning, you woke up to blaring headlines saying “Banks Ordered SHUT DOWN; All ATM’s Credit & Debit Cards ALL Offline.”

What if, as you listened to, or read the story, you found out that because of systemic losses and stock market crashes, ALL banks had to be shut down completely . . . . for two weeks . . . . until authorities could isolate the failed banks, and control the financial contagion?

For most people, the idea that their bank would be closed for a couple weeks is never even a passing thought.  And the notion that all credit cards and debit cards would suddenly be offline and unusable, is even less of a possibility.  Yet that is PRECISELY what could happen given the ongoing bank failures and stock plunges!

So, let’s just play “make pretend” for a minute and ask yourself “How would I get by for a couple weeks with no bank, no ATM’s and no credit/debit cards?

How would you eat?   How would you feed your family?   Do you even HAVE two weeks worth of food in your house?

How would you put fuel in your car to get to/from work?  Do you even HAVE a 5 gallon gas can (or two) on your property?  Is it full?

Most folks have never even considered this situation and that . . . . that right there . . . . is why most folks would be in shear panic (and shit outta luck) if this situation actually takes place.

Now, a lot of you might be thinking to yourselves “I can write a check.”   Fat chance.  If you’re a business, are YOU going to accept checks when you know the banks are failing?   Uhhhhhhhh. . . . . . .  hmmmmmmmmm. . . . .  NOPE!

Cash only!

Supermarkets?   Grocery stores? Gas stations? Same thing.  CASH ONLY.

Now what do you do?

I pose this scenario to get you thinking.  Because PLANNING has to be done BEFORE a crisis hits.  Sadly, most people today, don’t plan beyond their next 5 minutes.

You see, those of us who actually DO plan . . . . you mock us as the “tin foil hat crowd and/or “conspiracy theorists.”   We think about such things.  We plan.  We’re as ready as anyone can be for local, limited, disruptions to regular life.

And we have some bad news for you.  Don’t come calling to us when you and your kids are going hungry.  Don’t come calling to us when your car is out of fuel.  Because if you come calling for such things, we have a stark choice to make: Either feed you, or feed ourselves.

Guess what?  In that situation, YOU LOSE.

I have to feed me and MY family before I feed you or yours.  And I am not going to take food out of MY family’s mouths because YOU never thought (or couldn’t be bothered) to plan.

That may sound harsh, but that’s reality.

So take a few minutes right now and take a look at what food you have in your pantry.  Do you have enough Pasta, Rice, dried beans, canned tuna, canned chicken, a couple jars of sauces for over the pasta or rice,  a jar or two of mayonnaise?  Do you have a couple loaves of bread?  Any canned soups that are heat and eat?  How about a manual can opener?

You need to have this stuff to make sure YOU and YOUR FAMILY can eat if everything goes to hell with the banks.

You need to have some spare fuel.

Most of all, YOU NEED TO HAVE CASH MONEY stashed in the house somewhere, to get by if everything falls apart.

Don’t say you weren’t warned.  Because the plain truth is, most people just couldn’t be bothered to plan . . . . and those folks get no sympathy.

Chinese troops set out for China-Cambodia joint exercise amid intensive foreign military exchanges

Liu XuanzunPublished: Mar 16, 2023 10:18 PM

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2023 03 17 11 53

A Type 071 comprehensive landing ship is carrying Chinese troops on their way to participate in a large-scale joint exercise with Cambodia, marking yet another major event in a busy month of foreign military exchanges by the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA).

In accordance with a bilateral agreement, the armed forces of China and Cambodia will hold the Golden Dragon-2023 joint exercise in Cambodia from late March to early April, with the subject of the exercise being operations for the security of important events and humanitarian aid, China’s Ministry of National Defense said in a press release on Wednesday.

More than 200 troops from the Army, the Navy and the Joint Logistic Support Force of the PLA Southern Theater Command held a departure ceremony on Wednesday in Zhanjiang, South China’s Guangdong Province, on the flight deck of the Jinggangshan, a Type 071 comprehensive landing ship, China Central Television (CCTV) reported on the day.

After the ceremony, the Chinese forces set sail for a port in Cambodia, where they will mobilize motorized vehicles to the exercise area, CCTV reported.

The goal of the exercise is to further advance the comprehensive strategic cooperative partnership between China and Cambodia, enhance political mutual trust, expand military exchanges, and boost the two militaries’ capabilities in anti-terrorism work and humanitarian aid, the report said.

More than 3,000 personnel and over 300 vehicles will participate in the drill, which is the fifth such joint exercise between China and Cambodia, CCTV said.

The Golden Dragon-2023 exercise comes amid China’s intensive foreign military exchanges. Other major events include the ongoing China-Iran-Russia joint naval exercise in the Gulf of Oman, the China-Russia-South Africa joint naval exercise off the South African coast in late February, the AMAN-23 multinational maritime drills in Pakistan in early February, the Edelweiss Raid 2023 international mountain infantry competition in Austria in late February, and the Cobra Gold 2023 joint exercise in Thailand from February to March.

China’s participation in all of these exercises is focused on communication, exchanges and cooperation to boost understanding and joint capabilities. The training subjects focused on safeguarding regional peace and stability from non-traditional security threats such as terrorism, piracy and natural disasters, a Chinese military expert who requested anonymity told the Global Times on Thursday.

In the post-COVID era, the Chinese military will continue to resume, expand and deepen foreign exchanges, contributing to peace and stability and displaying China’s international responsibilities, Zhuo Hua, an international affairs expert at the School of International Relations and Diplomacy of Beijing Foreign Studies University, told the Global Times.

By comparison, the US has been rallying gangs in exercises that stir up regional military tension and serve its hegemonic geopolitical aims, experts said, citing events like the recent US-Philippines Balikatan exercise, the US-Japan Iron Fist exercise and the US-South Korea Ulchi Freedom Shield exercise.

The world should see that the Chinese military is providing public security goods to the international community and acting as a stability factor for peace, while the US is creating tensions and even conflicts for its own interests, observers said.

Chumbawamba – Tubthumping

“Gender Fluid” Director of Credit Suisse Draws Scrutiny as Bank Collapsing

As the world watches the stock value of Credit Suisse implode, people are asking how this could happen. That question is causing attention to be paid to the company Directors; one of whom is “Gender Fluid.” Folks are now asking “How can this guy run a company when he can’t even decide if he’s a man or a woman?”

Director Credit Suisse Gender Fluid large
Director Credit Suisse Gender Fluid large

Pictured above is Credit Suisse Director Philip Bunce.  However, depending on how he feels on any given day, he may come to work dressed in a wig and women’s clothes, calling himself “Pips” Bunce.

And while he’s busy trying to decide on whether he is a male or female on any given day, the company he is supposed to be Directing is seeing it’s stock value collapse.

Of course, none of this would matter in most other business situations, but Credit Suisse just happens to be a “Systemically important” bank.   Now that it is is serious liquidity trouble, the company and its Directors have BECOME the public’s business because the public is being asked to “backstop” Credit Suisse with about $54 Billion in liquidity from public funds through the Swiss National Bank.

Switzerland has agreed to provide that funding.  Yet folks are rightly asking whether or not this “Director” should continue to be with the firm now that his actions and those of the other Directors, have made Credit Suisse a public welfare recipient?

Maybe Mr./Ms. Bunce should be sent on its merry way and be replaced with someone who is actually mentally/sexually stable, who can actually do the job necessary to make the company solvent and stable?

On, and the other “Directors” who hired this . . . . thing . . . . it seems to many people THEY should be given THEIR walking papers as well.  Clearly, THEIR judgement – in hiring this . . . . thing . . . . – seems questionable.

Confessions of a Hypersexual Woman

 

What are your urges like?

The need for sex is constantly present. The pleasure it brings is pure euphoria. And I have the constant need for it so when I get it, I want it even more. All the time. The better the sex, the more sex, the happier I am.

Is having a relationship hard?

It’s hard on my partner. We hooked up when I was 16 and I was needing to have sex multiple times a day. At one point 10 times in one day. Which he could keep up with back then. But now 10 years later he is understanding of my needs but not quite meeting them. In 2020 he agreed to letting me do onlyfans to get some of my needs out without being unfaithful. But became uncomfortable with that after a while. It does put a strain on our relationship because his sex drive cannot match mine.

Have either of you brought up an open relationship?

We’ve talked about it and it’s just not for us. I NEED sex but I want it from him. And he doesn’t want me with anyone else. And I don’t want to be with anyone else.

That’s not to say I don’t have strong urges that could make me cheat and I do worry about what would happen if I were put into a position of temptation.

Do you avoid situations where you cheat? Like bars or clubs?

I do go out but I have to bring one of my sisters with me who will decide when I’m getting out of line or in a dangerous situation and have a bouncer wait outside with us for a ride/Uber. But I go out less now since I’ve put my sisters in situations where they feel I/they are unsafe.

When I drink I become very bubbly and friendly and sometimes respond to that behavior in ways that could get me in trouble or seem like an invitation.

Is it the act of sex (penetration) or the orgasm that you seek? Like, is masturbation a part of it as well?

I would say it’s both. It started getting worse around 12 with like obsessive masturbating. But now I also need the penetration to feel close to someone.

Does it satisfy you if he uses toys on you? Is that an option for you to get your needs met and him to be a part of it?

Absolutely! But he works a lot so he’s often tired and has to go to bed early

Have you tried denying/avoiding those instincts/feelings for a while? If you did how long have you lasted?

Even after having a baby I was supposed to wait 6 weeks to have sex and I only waited 2 lol it’s complicated to explain I guess. I need sex to be happy and I need it very often. I’m very horny all the time and I get disappointed and upset if I can’t have it. Which can cause problems

How does your sex drive correlate to your mood? Does bad/good mood bring it down temporarily?

Usually when my head is in a bad place I want it even more and I’m pan

Is there an event in your life that contributed to your hyper-sexuality? Was there any sexual abuse that you think may have led to your hyper sexuality?

I was molested at age 7. But also very over sexualized by men from a young age due to my features. And then I was introduced to chat rooms like Omegle around 12 and would have inappropriate relationships with adult men

Have you found any solutions or working towards a solution to break your addiction?

It has gotten better over the years to wear I can go 2-3 nights a week without it but meds do not work for my specific mental illness, I’ve done 10 years of therapy and 7 years with a psychiatrist.

Were you diagnosed?

Borderline personality disorder. I’m diagnosed with ptsd as well.

Have you been prescribed medicaiton?

I have been on Latuda, Wellbutrin, Prozac, Zoloft, lamictal, risperdal, the list continues. 7 years of different medication combinations with little to no difference in most symptoms.

How do you counter this huge thing in your life to allow yourself to lead a normal life?

I mean it’s not debilitating I still function and do things like a normal person

Obviously you were a victim in your childhood, do you resent your hyper-sexuality sometimes because of the circumstances in which you got it?

I guess it’s hard for me to really resent sex because I do love it. I guess I would like it if it wasn’t too much for my partner sometimes but it’s not his fault it’s fully on me

Russian Navy Blockades Downed US Drone

RussianNavyBlockadesDownedUSdrone large
RussianNavyBlockadesDownedUSdrone large

The Russian Navy has located the downed US MQ-9 “Reaper” Drone in the Black Sea, about 50 nautical miles from Sevastopol and has created a blockade around the crash site.

The Russian Navy salvage Vessel Kumma is enroute to the location.

RussianNavtSalvageShip
RussianNavtSalvageShip

 

It is reportedly going to attempt to retrieve the drone, which is said to be under about 90 meters of water.

The Just Won’t Stop – NYT Pushes New False Claims By Debunked Anti-Russia Propagandist Clint Watts

This propaganda is way too obvious.

Russia’s Spring Offensive in Ukraine Could Include Cyberattacks, Microsoft SaysNew York Times, Mar 16 2023
Moscow also appears to be stepping up influence operations to weaken European and U.S. support for sending more aid to the Ukrainian government.

A hacking group with ties to the Russian government appears to be preparing new cyberattacks on Ukraine’s infrastructure and government offices, Microsoft said in a report on Wednesday, suggesting that Russia’s long-anticipated spring offensive could include action in cyberspace, as well as on the ground.

For now Russia’s main influence campaign is concentrated in Europe, but it will shift to the United States “as the year gets closer to a presidential election debate going into fall,” said Clint Watts, the head of Microsoft’s Digital Threat Analysis Center.

Where, again, have I seen that name?

Latest Twitter Files show media, Dems relied on single source alleging ‘Russian bot’ activity: ‘It was a scam’Foxnews, Jan 28, 2023
Elon Musk says ‘shame on MSNBC’ for pushing misleading Russian bots narratives

Substack writer Matt Taibbi previously reported how top Democrats like California Democratic Rep. Adam Schiff and Sen. Dianne Feinstein, as well as Connecticut Democratic Sen. Richard Blumenthal, kept promoting claims that the Kremlin had significant influence in public discourse despite being told otherwise by Twitter executives.On Friday, Taibbi did a deep dive into their source, Hamilton 68, a so-called “dashboard” that purportedly monitored Russian bot activity.

Hamilton 68, which was spearheaded by former FBI special agent and MSNBC contributor Clint Watts, was operated by the Alliance for Securing Democracy (ASD), a “neoliberal think tank” founded in 2017 with an advisory council that includes Clinton ally John Podesta, former Obama-era acting CIA director Michael Morrell, former Obama official Michael McFaul and The Bulwark editor-at-large Bill Kristol.

Taibbi wrote Hamilton 68 “was the source of hundreds if not thousands of mainstream print and TV news stories in the Trump years.”

But behind the scenes, Twitter executives trashed Hamilton 68 and deliberated whether they should publicly rebuke ASD.

“I think we need to just call this out on the bulls— it is,” Twitter’s then-head of trust and safety Yoel Roth wrote in an October 2017 email, later writing in January 2018 that the dashboard “falsely accuses a bunch of legitimate right-leaning accounts of being Russian bots.”

“Virtually any conclusion drawn from it will take conversations in conservative circles on Twitter and accuse them of being Russian,” Roth wrote in February 2018.

Despite such fact based reporting three big wig NYT ‘reporters’, Julian E. Barnes, David E. Sanger and Marc Santora, continue to repeat the baseless ‘disinformation’ lies of the known anti-Russia propagandist Clint Watts . This without adding any critical context.

As the first commentator on my previous media education piece noted:

Reporters are garbage.

I would not generalize it like that. Matt Taibbi for one is a good reporter. But some other ‘reporters’ are indeed producing nothing but a constant stream of the most stinking refuse ever.

Posted by b on March 16, 2023 at 9:46 UTC | Permalink

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2023 03 17 11 58

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2023 03 17 11 56

Confessions of Parents Who Absolutely Regret Having Children

 

1. I’m tired of people trying to make me feel bad because I didn’t want to deal with this nightmare of a diagnosis. I straight up admit I absolutely did not fucking want a special needs child which is why I aborted my first pregnancy – there was a chromosomal abnormality so I noped out real quick.

Got just about every damn test you could with the second pregnancy and everything was fine. But no. Autism.

All I ever fucking wanted was a normal family, is that so much to ask? My life growing up was walking on eggshells because of my mentally ill father and intellectually disabled sister. Then I was free. Only to get dragged back into hell.

I’m tired of all the extravagant accommodations and never ending extra shit that goes into autism. We’re supposed to bend over backwards to children who only care about their immediate needs and themselves no matter what the fuck anyone else’s needs are – and then we get blamed for churning out entitled assholes.

I’m tired of this broken fucking kid and never ending heavy burden. While I would never hurt him I can absolutely see how this breaks some parents and these nightmare kids end up getting thrown off a bridge. (I’m not saying I would throw him off a bridge you drama queens, I’m saying I can understand how parents snap)

Pre natal diagnostics needs to get on the fucking ball.

Edit: like moths to a flame the autists are in full force to bitch about how awful I am.

Autism isn’t a shield for shit behavior. I’m allowed to be irritated with shit behavior no matter the origin. I’m human.

Guess what, you don’t live in a vacuum and your caregivers matter too. I’m sorry (not sorry) that the truth of raising an autistic child triggers you so much but, well, it’s not my job to cater to your feelings. Go somewhere else if you hate it so much.

2. My (40M) son (12M) has been physically and verbally abusing my wife (42F) and daughter (9F) for 3-4 years. Dozens of medicinal combinations, 4 hospitalizations (writing this from the hospital while waiting for a placement for his 5th), 8 months in a residential center, making his needs/problems the center of our lives (wife has had not worked or done anything but be his full time caretaker for years), have yielded no relief. I pay for a house the wife+kids live in, and an apartment I live in and work from a few miles away, because my presence/existence is an irritant to my son (and wife prioritizes son’s preferences/comfort above all else), and my daughter occasionally has to stay in the apartment with me when son attacks her.

Yesterday, wife and MIL and both kids went for ice cream, but the store was unexpectedly closed. That disruption in plans was enough that son escalated from standard daily behavior of punching my wife, to attempting to strangle her, and attacked elderly MIL with a heavy wooden board (luckily she knocked it out of his hands and was uninjured).

So, marriage in shambles, finances and mental health destroyed, daughter traumatized… all societal systems (US) from hospitals to cops to therapists to public schools to private schools to psychiatrists to psychologists to residential centers to crisis response (and probably more I’m forgetting) unable to help at all.

My daughter is mostly a joy and (aside from removing what she’s been exposed to) I would change nothing about her.

I regret my son’s existence.

3. The actual reason I had a kid was just pressure from society. I mean, this is what people are supposed to do you know? I’ve always made so much effort ticking all the boxes what people are “supposed to do”. I’m 30 years old and my biological clock is ticking. All my friends have kids so I thought to myself that it was now or never. Now I have this beautiful, healthy, lovely 2 year old whom I love more than words – make no mistake, I’m a good mom. But what I want is sleeping in, going to the gym whenever I want, travel, doing spontaneous things etc. That was my life before my daughter was born. I don’t feel this “rewarding” feeling everyone are talking about. I feel bitter and unfulfilled. I wouldn’t dare saying those things out loud to anyone.

4. I was told the moment you push out your baby & hold it in your arms is the most amazing, most magical, euphoric moment you will ever experience in your entire life.

So there I was..in the hospital, holding my new baby, waiting for it… I felt NOTHING. But I did lose a lot of blood though. I was told that C-Sections are not that bad. I’ll be fine! I couldn’t talk for weeks & barely had any energy to move. But I do have a long nasty cool looking scar that my wax lady points out to me every time I get a wax.

I was told that my breast would just go back to my regular size. My breast are so flat and saggy that I literally have to rush to put clothes on after I get out the shower bc I hate lookin in the mirror. I was told that it’s just “baby weight” it’ll go away after birth. My stomach is so fat & sloppy that it looks like I’m in the early stages of pregnancy.

I was told by my OBGYN that “I’m just in a phase, I’ll get my confidence back!” Today, as I write this in tears, I haven’t felt like me in years. Something’s off..I always look like I’m feeling & feel how I look (which is ugly).

I was told that “Kids are a blessing, you’ll enjoy it!” I literally look forward to every freakin day & night when my kid goes to sleep for that little peace & quiet time that I have to myself. This is the biggest highlight of my day! I use every bit of that time thinking about all that I could be right now before I enter parenthood.

I was told that I have “18 Summers to get it right” That is true & I take that to the heart, but I might just spend my whole adulthood living for my kid & I haven’t even enjoyed my life yet. Thing is, I could be the best parent ever & it still won’t ever be enough cause in the end, kids grow into individuals w/ a mind of their own. 70% comes from me & the other 30% will come from life itself. Life is the greatest teacher. Hopefully when she turns 18, I’ll have something to look back & smile about.

Knowing all the sacrifices, blood, sweat & tears it took to get here will be more than enough for my warm heart to accept. I wait everyday for that moment. I was told that this sht comes easy, being a parent is natural. I’ve been a mom for damn near 3 years & ain’t sht been easy yet. Literally been winging this sh*t since day 1.

I was told just taking 10 mins for yourself will do wonders for you. I can’t even take a shower w/o thinking I’m hearing someone crying & banging on my bathroom door. I was told that child support payments will ease the load. The court ordered $194 in payments & he doesn’t even pay that. I was told from friends & family that I have their support. I’ve had to quit so many jobs bc I had no one to watch her. I had to steal food so many times bc I just don’t have it right now. I was told that it’ll get easier, when?

The fact is, I was lied to.

5. My son is gifted. He’s also a gigantic fucking asshole.

What they see is the tiniest little sliver of a moment, and have no idea that the rest of the time is absolutely exhausting. He has behavior problems, is constantly argumentative, and lives to push every fucking one of my buttons every single goddamn day. It is honestly a battle not to hit him the way I would have been, and my reward for restraint and respecting his person is constantly eating shit.

He has no friends, acts half his age, and is a gigantic brat no matter what we do. I’ve had to give up my life to revolve around his, and I expected to be done by now honestly. Most mothers can get back to work when their kid starts school… I cant.

All of my fucking time is taken up by his endless needs, the time he’s in school is the only time I can get anything meaningful done. The entire parental load is dumped on me, as well as every speck of housework, and society thinks I need to bring in an income too because I’m not doing enough?

It’s all shit. All of it.

When he is on stage and captivates everyone, if just for a moment… I would trade all of it to go back and remain childless. I see parents whisper to each other that they wish their kid could be more like mine and it makes me want to cry. Because they don’t realize how difficult having a gifted kid is. Honestly I would have preferred a normal child.

I put on a brave face though, and gush about how proud I am. But I’m dying inside.

Lots of us regret. Even the ones you would never think do. But I regret all of it.

It’s funny how when I was younger the idea of a hardworking husband that could afford for me to be a stay at home mother to a gifted kid – that was like a dream scenario.

But that’s exactly what I got, and it’s a prison.

I love him and I will continue to do my best for him, but Christ this is the worst job I’ve ever had.

6. I fucking hate being a mother (and wife). There, I said it.

I’ll preface with saying that I do love my children , but It absolutely drains every single part of my being. To the point where I’m not sure I can keep going much longer.

I hate how I went undiagnosed with a neurological disorder my entire life until recently, which makes being a parent/partner so damn difficult. I could have made better choices had I known.

I hate that I grew up thinking because I was a girl, having kids was just part of life. I hate how we don’t normalize conversations surrounding the topic of NOT having children.

I hate that I even feel this way. Not like they asked to be here. So I go through the motions and try my best . For them. But what I wouldn’t give to go back 20 years and make different choices.

Confessions of a Tech CEO Who Had Millions Tied Up In Silicon Valley Bank

So something like from that show Silicon Valley? You stocks went from millions to nothing?

Worse. Our bank account had millions of dollars in cash in it which we use to pay rent, employees, etc. All of that money has been frozen now that the bank has collapsed and the FDIC has stepped in. We can’t access it, use it, or transfer it to another bank.

This has happened to countless companies. Hundreds of companies missed payroll on Friday or will miss payroll over the next few days.

Why would you keep so much in one bank knowing it’s uninsured? Why not buy US treasuries as an alternative?

There’s a lot to dig into here, and arguably this is the most important cultural shift that needs to occur amongst venture-backed companies going forward.

Large companies – and thus more mature ones – absolutely diversify. For that reason, SVBs implosion is mostly hurting small and medium sized startups who maintained all of their capital in SVB. The question is: why were these startups not more proactively defensive? I think there’s a lot of contributing factors.

1) Most early stage startups are founded by and focus entirely on employing non-admin talent, meaning no HR, no finance, etc. In fact, one of our investors (a tier 1 investor with several billion dollar funds) explicitly talked me out of hiring a CFO until we were “50-100 employees”. So, what you end up with is a talent pool of specialists whose strength and focus isn’t in financial risk aversion, but rather in the skills needed to build product, find traction, and drive growth.

2) Focus. In early stage startups, you’re so frantically working to find product/market fit, recruit key talent, close customers, and navigate investors that you quickly deprioritize anything that doesn’t immediately drive revenue or product market fit. This leads to a bunch of blind spots in the business that are easy to take for granted. One is financial risk aversion. There are only so many tasks you can commit your attention to each day, and the purely administrative ones tend to fall by the wayside.

3) Convenience. Take your typical seed stage startup. In 2019, a seed round would be 2 million, plus or minus. In 2021, that same seed stage round could be 4-8. That means 32 bank accounts required to ensure that no more than $250k is present in any account. Amongst all of the other stuff you have to do as both a manager and individual contributor, this degree of oversight feels untenable.

4) Hubris. Probably a bit too strong language, but worth at least mentioning. Startups are inherently risky and financially insecure businesses, but we tend to have faith that our institutional partners — VCs, banks, etc. — are trustworthy and secure. We try to focus on the things we are most in a position to control, and we trust our partners to support us in the gaps. That’s not a good perspective to have going forward.

There are a lot of reasons. Going forward, all startups should probably have CFOs actively protecting cash. That hasn’t been the standard in the past for small companies. It should be going forward.

You weren’t notified of the potential problem before ?

I received an email.at 3:09 ET on Thursday.from.one of our investors saying, “This is probably alarmist, but you might want to move your money out of SVB.” That’s it. I immediately contacted another bank, but by the time the application was submitted, approved, created, and transfer submitted, it was already too late. About 16 hours.

Do you think your company can bounce back from this?

The next few days are critical.

The industry is expecting the FDIC to provide $250k in insurance on Monday. If that miraculously happens, it provides limited relief for the smaller companies, of which mine is one. With that $250k, I can make 2 payrolls. So, that gives me 3 weeks to figure out our next step.

The biggest question is whether or not the government will step in to make all of the depositors whole (meaning ensure companies like mine get access to the cash we already had). Even if that happens, there’s no way to know how quickly that can occur. Many Americans don’t think it should at all.

If that doesn’t occur, then we’ll likely be looking for a new source of capital (probably an investment) and use that to keep the company alive long enough to hopefully find a buyer.

What happens to a company that can’t make payroll?

We held a 2 hour company wide call, during which I explained what happened, what’s next, and the options we have. Then we did breakout sessions with each team. People are understandably concerned, but not because they’re in the dark.

There is a lot of he said/she said going on about when any of this money will be returned. The truth is nobody knows. My plan A is to access (hopefully on Monday) the FDIC $250k insurance to cover my team’s next two payroll cycles. That gives me time to do two things: 1) see if there’s a short-term resolution of SVB that benefits us, and 2) work with our partners in a bridge loan. The latter is the most likely path for any early-stage startup that has the option.

After that, who knows. If it takes months or years for any of the capital to be returned, then probably look for an acquirer so my team has a soft landing somewhere.

Do you think that the failures on the bank should be settled by tax payer money?

It’s a great question. I think the potential reverberating damage of not making the depositors as whole as possible is catastrophic. Not just for those companies, but for the us economy itself and the future of the US as a global innovator. Seeing online chatter, it’s clear to me that most people don’t understand how broad reaching this situation is. It’s MUCH bigger than a few “coastal leftist capitalist millionaires”.

Does that mean that taxpayers should be responsible? No. Ideally the capital would come from another bank acquiring the assets over the coming days/weeks. That seems unlikely, at least at a price that would cover all depositors.

Somebody is getting fucked. It shouldn’t be the depositors who only held cash. And it shouldn’t be the taxpayers. Very difficult situation.

Who do you think will be the White Knight? (Do you believe there will be one?)

Interesting question. No for-profit institution can truly be the white knight. They’re self-interested parties (which is fine) and are going to try to acquire the assets for pennies on the dollar. Meaning whatever is left will be a fraction of what was there before. The govt. Can certainly intervene, but to what end.

Ultimately, I think the question is really: Who is going to get screwed over the most in order to protect the rest.

If the government is the only way to make yourselves whole, what are your thoughts about the government taking equity positions in those companies rather than providing a cash bailout?

We need cash to operate. If that cash is in exchange for equity, I’m generally okay with the idea. In fact, I would personally love a closer relationship between govt and innovation companies. I have long maintained that we need our best people thinking about the biggest problems – govt, education, healthcare, etc. But because public sector salaries can’t compete, we often pool too much top talent in the private sector. A closer relationship between the two might have positive outcomes.

Did you start the company or just rise up to the position?

I started the company with two co-founders. They made salaries first. I started getting paid about a year later.

CEO compensation varies WIDELY by company, stage, and sector. I firmly believe that CEOs at most large corporations are grossly overpaid. That is far from my personal case. I currently make $150k/yr. I’m far from the highest paid employee at my own company. For early stage companies, there is a director correlation between a startup’s likelihood to fail and how much s/he pays him/herself. I made much more at previous companies, but founder/CEOs typically don’t work for the salary. They work for the potential equity outcome.

What were your roles and responsibilities as a CEO for this company.

At my stage, the primary responsibilities are hiring, budgeting, HR, team management, fundraising, and investor relations. After that, each CEO has a unique set of skills based on their background which determine what else they do. My background is in product management, so I also lead the design and development of our software product.

Typically external CEOs are brought into a startup after the company has achieved a certain degree of scale. Maybe the founder is ready to move on, or maybe the company needs someone with more expertise at that growth stage. Typically external CEOs come from within the existing social network, via investor introductions, or through an executive recruiter.

17 People Reveal The Biggest Problem Plaguing Their Life Right Now

 

I’m 60. My biggest problem is having to work 50 or 60 (or more) hours a week just to keep up with the bills. Plus I have a bedridden wife with cancer and we’re raising our oldest grandson. As Sargeant Murtaugh once said, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

37 and I’m going blind. I don’t know how long it will take, when I will be legally blind and unable to live my life with the richness, independence and everything else I expected, but it’s coming. It’s a crushing inevitability. Every day that I get to see my loved ones faces is a gift.

40’s and I drink too much and need to lose weight. I only drank 3 times in February and I’ve increased my daily walks so I’m working on it!

I’m just trying to find some reasons to not hate my own existence. But here we are. A couple days ago was my 43rd. My finances suck. I’ve been depressed most of my adult life but I’m just really sad right now too. There is a difference between sad and depressed and I’m both right now. And I don’t deserve to be either, I’m healthy, I still have all my limbs and digits thanks to modern medicine, and there are people who care about me, which makes the depression just feel like even more of a failure. I hope you feel better soon. I hope I do too.

74 and don’t really have any problems other knowing my time is limited. Don’t buy any green bananas. 🙂

78, and knowing I am terminal. I can handle it, but everybody else is in denial. I’m hearing lots of, “After all, doctors don’t know everything, do they?”

No. They don’t. But they do know the five-year survival rate is 1%. Now let’s all say that together boys and girls.

“The five-year survival rate is 1%.”

59 and my thoughts are consumed with losing my wife(and best friend). I’ve loved her for 42 years. I want 42 more.

The older I get the shorter it all seems, Ive heard the same from everyone. Everyone pretends to be at peace, I thinik it’s more for the others than that they really believe it. There isn’t anything you can tell someone when they are 16 that they will ever truly understand until they’re 60. I suppose this is where the bitter sweet thing hits. But it hits really fucking hard when it does.

61(F)… Relationship heartache and likely to be let go at work. I’m too old for either of these when 6 years away from retirement.

29. All my bills are going up, but my paycheck is not.

I’m 62 and I am watching my wife die day by day from pancreatic cancer. She is the love of my life, God’s gift to me. I had been married before but never have I known love until I met her. I cannot breathe. I cannot cry because I must be strong for my beautiful bride. My heart is breaking day by day. When the end comes I cannot imagine living a day without her smile and laughter.

My mother just passed away, leaving me with implied responsibility for my same-aged brother with special needs. There was no plan, despite me begging them for years to figure something out. I live ten hours away and work full-time plus. Now I’m supposed to figure it all out.

31, grief, anxiety, money, never being able to afford a home and by extension claw my way out of poverty. I have more money now than I ever did in my life and it still won’t get me anywhere.

55, live alone, work 100% from home, and have no friends and family. Shit be lonely.

27 and more and more I’m coming to the horrifying realization that I don’t really like the world, where it’s headed, the way we idolize and reward cruelty and selfishness, the way the world is just kind of… ugly. This is not the world I envisioned living in when I was younger, and that crushing realization is a lot to come to terms with. Some days are especially difficult. Other days I wonder whether it’s worth sticking around for something I dislike so much.

I’m 48 and my son is 16. He has a muscle eating disease call Muscular Dystrophy and has lost the use of his legs, his arms have weakened to the point that he can barely lift a glass and he’s in a wheelchair. He has an upcoming major surgery for scoliosis (caused by the disease) that will enable him completely for up to a week. He worries about it and about the disease (dying) and on top of that, he gets very depressed about not being able to do the things that other kids his age can do. I worry constantly about him, but there is nothing I can do. That’s my biggest problem (he’s not the problem, but the fact I can’t do anything but worry).

My kids won’t stop getting sick. They’re missing so much school. It’s like their bodies have decided to just alternate weeks with different respiratory viruses.

via

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This video was hidden inside the movie folder in all Windows 95.

30 of the Best Non-Sexual Feelings in the World

 

1. When you unexpectedly catch a smell that reminds you of a person or a place that you love.

2. Laying awake with someone, and being so lost in conversation that you talk for hours without even realizing it.

3. When something funny catches you off guard in just the right way, and you laugh uncontrollably.

4. A dog or cat or just a fluffy, non threatening animal coming up to you and cuddling you until you can’t breath.

5. Being close to someone you have a crush on and just nearly touching. The almost touch is a magical thing.

6. Farting away a stomach ache

7. Seeing someone happy with the gift you gave them.

8. Taking a piss after holding it for the whole car ride

9. Getting that popcorn kernel out of your teeth

10. Tingles from listening to some good music

11. Having a 3 day weekend and waking up on that Saturday realizing you still have two more days off.

12. Having a conversation with someone who’s genuinely interested in what you have to say

13. Waking up in the middle of the night and realizing you still have 5 hrs more to sleep.

14. Head massage. Even those wire “hands” you can get to do it yourself feel amazing.

15. Sleeping in a bed with clean and warm sheets straight out of the dryer.

16. That moment of clarity when your brain stops going and you’re just present, wherever you are.

17. Silence. Just go to an area with no civilization whatsoever and sit. No expectations, obligations or unnecessary needs.

18. Waking up at 3 am with massive thirst and then you take that nice, cold and godly sip of water

19. First sip of coffee when you wake up on vacation.

20. Water coming out of your ear after it’s been stuck there for a bit.

21. When you’re at someone’s house and their pet chooses your lap to sit on.

22. Taking a smooth, efficient, clean poop. Also taking a huge shit that you’ve been holding for too long.

23. Contagious laughter, to the point no one remembers what made us start laughing.

24. Love. Long ago in a relationship -I said something awkward that revealed my feelings but not directly and the response was ‘I love you too stupid, let’s go get some coffee’

25. When you find yourself genuinely looking forward to the next time you’ll see/talk to someone, then you realize you’re smiling like an idiot.

26. When you feel like someone truly sees you.

27. When you put down your judgment long enough, to let yourself be proud of the things you’ve accomplished.

28. When someone says, “I love you” for the first time, or you finally muster up the courage to say it yourself.

29. When you get together with siblings or cousins, and laugh for hours while retelling childhood stories that you all have already told 100 times.

30. Watching people enjoy the food you cooked.

Chicken and Sourdough Dumplings

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Ingredients

Dumplings

  • 2 1/2 cups flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 3/4 cup milk
  • 1 egg
  • 1/2 cup sourdough starter
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil or melted shortening
  • 2 quarts boiling water

Chicken

  • 2 tablespoons flour
  • 3 tablespoons melted shortening
  • 1 (6 ounce) can evaporated milk
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 2/3 cup water
  • 1 (10 ounce) can cream of chicken soup
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 cup chopped pimiento
  • 1 (2 to 3 pound) fryer, cooked, boned and cut into bite-size pieces

Instructions

  1. Dumplings: In large bowl, thoroughly stir together flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda.
  2. Combine milk, egg, sourdough starter and vegetable oil or melted shortening and add to dry mixture all at once, stirring just until moist. Drop dough from tablespoon into boiling water. Cover and simmer 15 minutes. Remove with slotted spoon. Drain and place on top of cooked chicken.
  3. Chicken: Over medium heat, add flour to shortening. Stir constantly while adding milks, soup, water, salt, pepper and pimiento. Add chicken. Pour into a 3-quart casserole and top with dumplings.
  4. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees F for 10 minutes.

Serves 4 to 6.

NDE and some reality

This post includes a very well done NDE, Star Trek TOS (in sections), the usual food and art fare, and some indications that American banks are collapsing left and right.

In case you all haven’t been paying attention, MM is a repository of a step by step staged archive of the end of the old world order, and the beginning of a new one.

Because, in the future REAL historians will be able to find this site, undetected by the present political powers, and pristine in ways that revisionism cannot corrupt.

But that’s not your concern.

What you concern should be enjoying today.

Big Big Meeting going on in Russia right now!

The Duran comments on it…

Big changes in the world today!

Have a great one!

Natasha Wright
January 31, 2023

Davos annual meeting comes across as rather outdated and obsolete with its now heavily tarnished global image all the more so.

While geopolitics is threatening to deal a heavy blow and most probably demolish the world created in the cauldrons of Davos, as has the Financial Times voiced their concerns, and surely not without a series of justifiable reasons, one of the unexpected leaders of the Global South, Indian PM Narenda Modi, rebelliously self-confident, said in his address to the world: “Our time is yet to come. We are all those who are not the Collective West ‘made to Davos measure”. Moreover, even the U.S. CNN couldn’t help noticing, this year’s Davos meeting (aka the Davos annual “gab fest” as Rowan Dean, Sky News Australia famously called it) has attracted a record number of visits but its relevance appears to be dwindling and slowly but surely vanishing into political void. Davos annual meeting comes across as rather outdated and obsolete with its now heavily tarnished global image all the more so.

The overwhelming fear this year’s WEF in Davos is frantically obsessing about internalizes the fact that the long-lasting period of peace and prosperity and global economic integrations is regrettably drawing to an end – not even the Financial Times try to handle the perils of their own pessimism in that they seem to specify to the smallest minutiae, who did prosper in that famous and infamous Collective West in the period of global integration, which has existed so far but is in a terribly precarious position now.

The conflict in Ukraine has shown the ways the war can suddenly sever the ties in economic relations on the foundations of which the globalization has been built so far. The European Union seems to be drastically reducing the import of Russian energy supplies and in so doing it further foments the inflation in Europe and renders some of its industries grotesquely uncompetitive and regrettably redundant. The politicians and industrial moguls are now casting scrutinizing looks along the horizon and beyond, in their comically concerted effort to possibly spot the next ominously pernicious threat. It sounds only too eerie that the London-based newspaper forecasts with a proverbial admonishing finger in midair. The U.S. channel says that this year in Davos, one cannot help noticing the absence of U.S. President Biden, the French President Emanuel Macron and British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak on one hand and the leaders of India and China Xi and Modi on the other. Some of them were obliged not to attend because of the backlash on their home turfs because Davos has become the toxic symbol of inequality and brutally merciless international capitalism.

There is surely a very good reason for this tarnished reputation, because in the last two years apparently, 1% of the richest of the rich have accumulated even two times bigger “new riches” than the rest of the world altogether. Those leaders who believe this is “not OK” such as Xi and Modi, did not attend Davos because they were otherwise engaged and they had to prioritize. But to get back to truly serious world leaders, PM Modi was absent for a good reason because instead of WEF, he addressed his audience in the Voice of the Global South Summit. Unlike that overwhelmingly pathetic pessimism in Davos, Modi’s voice was brimming with rebellious optimism. It is blatantly obvious that the world is in the grip of the global crisis. It is difficult to foresee how long this state of uncertainty will last – Modi started his elaboration and then went on to get across what is to come next. “We shall have the biggest share in this in the future. Three quarters of mankind live in our countries and we need to have an impact commensurate with that share and number. Therefore, whilst the eight decade long global governance behind us is gradually changing, we need to aspire to shape the emerging world order. The peoples and nations in the global South should not be deprived of the fruits of the global development out of purely selfish reasons. It is incumbent on all of us together to reconstruct our common political and financial governance. Only that can multiply our opportunities and increase prosperity”. All that, Modi points out, may happen with the respect for all nations, rule of law and peaceable resolution of all differences and disputes and the reform of international institutions, including that of the UN, so as to render them more relevant.

By the way, Russia has publicly supported this request by India to be granted the continual seat in the UN Security Council. “Despite the challenges the world is facing I remain an optimist,” Modi sends a clear resounding message. “Our time is coming. In the past century we have been helping each other in our struggle against foreign governance. We can do that again in this century so as to create the new world order, which will in turn ensure the well – being of our citizens” – says Modi. And not only him. An almost identical message was sent from Cairo, Egypt. After a meeting with the Arab League officials, the new Chinese foreign minister Qin Gang said “We have agreed to work together towards creating the new world order based on the rule of law and equality of the whole humanity, dedication to human values of the whole civilization together with their adamant refusing to politicize human rights issues and their (ab)use as a mere political ploy to interfere in the internal affairs of individual sovereign countries.” He did not utter this out loud and there was no need to do any such thing other than in this Qin Gang’s filigree diplomatic style, though it was blatantly obvious who Qin Gang was referring to.

Truth be told, the clear signs of the new non-Western world order are rapidly proliferating. Not only that 85 % of mankind have not joined “the Collective Biden” sanctions against Russia but as an example, thanks to these sanctions, India is now importing 33 times more from Russia than before. Iran, regardless of the U.S. sanctions on them, is now exporting more of its oil than before the sanctions. And the Republic of South Africa, as one very good but a somewhat different example, is dismissing the raging wrath expressed by the Collective West because of their (i.e. South African) marine military exercises with Russia recently. But as its key point, after Xi Jinping announced in Ryadh recently that China will be paying Saudi Arabia for Saudi oil in yuan, the Saudi Finance Minister confirms with a dollop of irony from Davos that the situation is abundantly clear that they will not sell oil exclusively in U.S. dollars. And, South African Minister of Foreign Affairs, Naledi Pandor reveals that more or less since 2014 the BRICS countries have been working hard on creating an alternative to the dollar system. All the projections tend to indicate that by 2030 China and India economies will be the biggest economies in the world and Russia will graciously overtake the economies of Germany and Japan.

The new world order is not a mere buzzword for the idle ones any more. One cannot but wonder who will shape it and in what manner: economically, financially and politically. Will the Collective West do their diabolical best to prevent that from happening by resorting to what they have always done: the truly global world war and possibly aided with nukes?

Semiconductors: China is getting there by leaps and bounds.

China has broken up foreign monopolies of high- performance semiconductor temperature controllers.

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main qimg b8166658a90c369898c0cfca252b1b64

China has been working on the research of adjusting the temperature of semiconductor chips and his team researches on micro semiconductor temperature controllers.

The controller can immediately produce the temperature difference of up to 100 C at the moment of getting connected to electricity, and works as an air-conditioner to cool semiconductor chips.

It took only three months to transfer the scientific research results to actual production and the monthly production capacity of the temperature controller has exceeded 300,000 pieces.

Last July, the domestic-developed temperature controller developed by the team was launched to the space with China-developed research rocket and completed the first successful in-orbit verification of 5,000 kilometers in space.

It means that China has realized the domestic production of a series of micro semiconductor devices from space grade to industrial grade, breaking the previous foreign monopoly on high-end temperature controller parts.

Currently the controllers are widely used in laser communication, vehicles, and biomedicine among other fields.

Hats off!

Construction Workers Renovating The Lincoln Memorial Uncover A Secret Passage

When workers were renovating the Lincoln Memorial for a major event, they discovered something totally bizarre right beneath their feet. It turned out that Honest Abe was sitting atop a massive secret — literally. And millions of us have been inches away from this sight without noticing it. If you’ve ever set foot on the Tennessee pink marble floors and stared up at the stoic expression of America’s 16th president, you were actually standing right above a decades-old secret passage that few knew existed.

Workers made a startling discovery

A construction crew working at the Lincoln Memorial back in 1975 was tasked with renovating the bathrooms. Little did they know, their seemingly-simple task would lead them to an unexpected discovery. Not long into their project, they noticed something strange about the structure’s foundation that no one was prepared for.

The hidden room

When workers took a closer look at the foundation, they discovered a massive room beneath the chamber that housed Lincoln in his chair. As anybody else would do after discovering a major historical secret, the construction crew quickly spread the word about the mysterious area. It was a point of fascination. How long had this room been there, and why was it there in the first place?

Exploring the “cave”

Of the people told about the secret room, some were members of the National Speleological Society — AKA, they were passionate about exploring old, mysterious caves. And when they cave divers first ventured underground, they explored the giant room with awe. Stalactites and stalagmites formed during the years the space was neglected. It was while they were exploring that they had a startling realization.

Why was it there?

Oddly enough, the cave wasn’t naturally formed but man-made. And the room was massive: 43,800 square feet, to be exact. The more they poked around, the creepier Lincoln Memorial’s concealed level revealed itself to be. Besides the rats, insects, and general spookiness, its mere existence made the group prickle with paranoia. Why was no one aware of this clearly intentionally-made chamber?

Lincoln’s biggest secret

The mystery of it all added to the general creepiness. How is it possible that one of the most iconic monuments in America, with over 7 million visitors each year, kept its gigantic “basement” a secret? Surely, the space once served a purpose. Even more confusing, when exactly did its existence fall between the cracks?

40 years in the making

Solving this mystery required the explorers to dig deeper into the monument’s past. Construction for the Lincoln Memorial kicked off in 1914. It took 40 years for the Army Corps of Engineers to create the Potomac Park shoreline that now serves as the attraction’s backdrop.

Digging into the earth

Workers dug 40 feet down in the earth to begin the project. Then, they installed a series of concrete pillars to support the rest of the structure. When they were finished, it looked like a cathedral all on its own. It was certainly grand enough to stand in the nation’s capital. Of course, something not-so-grand lurked beneath the ground.

It slipped from people’s minds

The crew then created the rest of the 19-foot statue and the 145 steps leading up to it. This massive undertaking took the majority of the builders’ time and energy. No doubt they were focused on installing the main event of the memorial — Lincoln himself — to properly honor the famous president. Somehow along the way, the underground chamber slipped from people’s minds.

Tourists explored the cavernous passages

But once the National Parks Service got wind of the Lincoln Monument’s killer basement, they had to show it off. Over 50 years after it was sealed off and forgotten, people finally filed into the hidden chamber. Without much preparation, the derelict space was opened to the public, and tours of amazed visitors shuffled through its cavernous passages.

A dark look behind the curtain

Officially, this space is called the undercroft, but it remains relatively unknown to the general American public. Though, some might reason it’s not that big a loss. After all, it’s a dark, dank look behind the curtain of how the dazzling Lincoln Memorial was constructed. But that still doesn’t answer why most people never see the space for themselves.

Dangerous air quality

Only those who visited the memorial during the ’70s and ’80s were lucky enough to glimpse the undercroft. Knowing that, for a time, people were allowed to traipse through the elusive passageways, why did they eventually shut it down? Well, it wasn’t exactly safe. During one tour, for example, someone spotted what looked like asbestos.

Shut it down

Countless tourists being struck down by an outbreak of asbestos poisoning was definitely something the government wanted to avoid at all costs. The National Parks Service needed to take care of the asbestos situation, and probably realized that the space was generally unfit for tours. So in 1989, the undercroft was shuttered to the public. Still, it didn’t lie untouched and forgotten for another 50 years.

Funny little illustrations

Over the years, select lucky adventure seekers have glimpsed the insides of the Lincoln Memorial undercroft, witnessing its most special feature — graffiti. Many of the columns in the basement are covered in funny little illustrations from those brave (or foolish) enough to dive below the surface. Some of the graffiti, however, comes from an unexpected source.

Traces of personality

Steven Schorr, the president of DJS Associates — a forensic consulting firm that took scans all over The National Mall and Lincoln Memorial — said, “The builders actually drew cartoons and they have them covered in Plexiglas.” Yep, the old-timey-looking cartoons were drawn by people back in the 1910s, not by modern teenaged ne’er-do-wells.

The century-old graffiti is being preserved

Drawing silly pictures on the pillars of a presidential memorial must have felt like the most rebellious act for those 1914 laborers. Nearly a century later, though, the cartoons are the shining jewels of the undercroft. Silly graffiti is definitely at odds with the more solemn black-and-white photos of the era. Perhaps that’s why they’re being protected — and for a staggering sum.

Plans for the undercroft

Billionaire philanthropist David Rubenstein has invested a mind-boggling $18.5 billion into a project to modernize the Lincoln Memorial, including the undercroft space. His hope is for more people to be captivated by the humanity of the doodles, humbled by Abraham Lincoln’s firm gaze, and, of course, fascinated by the once-forgotten underground chamber. The billion-dollar project won’t be completed overnight.

Its biggest update yet

The project marks the most extensive renovation of the memorial since its debut in 1922. Rubenstein is tremendously honored to contribute to preserving this new chapter for the Great Emancipator’s monument. Through his efforts, modernized construction equipment and healthy financial backing mean the updates will probably be completed sooner rather than later.

Coming soon…

The plan was to reopen the undercroft to the public for the Lincoln Memorial’s centennial in 2022, but for now, construction is slated to be complete in 2026. One day soon, though, people will walk among those storied columns … and maybe even descend below the surface to another time. Until that day comes, there are still signs of the undercroft you can spot in person.

A point of fascination

People can see the coordinates marking the entryway to the chamber if they look closely. But even just standing on the coordinates can elicit a strange feeling. The enormous Lincoln itself has an overwhelming aura, one curator Harry Rubenstein, from the Smithsonian’s political history wing, explained to National Geographic. “It has that temple-like quality, and the statue reveals itself slowly as you walk up the steps — it doesn’t hit you all at once. And as you move up, you are made small by this incredible statue.”

Hidden symbolism

While the sheer scale of the giant Lincoln perched in a chair is what most people take in, the memorial is also richly symbolic. But some of the messages hidden within the statue’s design can be difficult to pick up on, even more so than its cavernous ‘hidden’ basement. So they tend to be missed by the average observer.

Straight from the drawing board

The intentional details concealed within the monument trace back to the immediate aftermath of Abraham Lincoln’s murder. Pretty much straight away, people were calling for a monument to be raised in his honor. But it would take many decades and several design reworks for the project to really get off the ground properly.

The green light

It was only many decades after Lincoln’s death that a memorial was finally given the green light by Congress, which set aside $2 million for the project in 1911. Still, even at this point, progress remained very slow. For three years, debate raged about exactly what it should be and where it should be sited.

Greek inspiration

In the end, the person tasked with the memorial’s design was Henry Bacon, who’d previously studied in Europe. His stint abroad gave Bacon a taste for ancient Greek design, which would ultimately come to be seen in his plans for the Lincoln Memorial. If you look at the structure today, you’ll see a purposeful resemblance to the Parthenon temple that stands at the heart of Athens.

Off the wall

It’s difficult to imagine the statue of Lincoln standing inside any other building besides the one Bacon designed. But his idea was actually one of many. Another man named John Russell Pope also came up with a bunch of other designs that were ultimately rejected. And some of them were fairly off the wall.

Ancient temples

One of Pope’s rejected designs resembled a Mayan temple, which would house an enormous, undying flame. Another idea for the building was based on a ziggurat, a structure most famously found in ancient Mesopotamia. And yet another of Pope’s concepts resembled a pyramid from ancient Egypt. All were dismissed, but Pope would ultimately go on to design the Jefferson Memorial down the line.

From all over

It was Bacon who would design the Lincoln Memorial, and he had some strong ideas when it came to the symbolism his building would employ. For instance, he was adamant that the stone used in the construction should come from all over the United States. That, in his mind, would epitomize Lincoln’s commitment to the Union.

Another designer

Bacon’s design is full of little messages to be interpreted, if you look close enough. But what of the statue of Lincoln that’s housed there? Well, this thing is rich in symbolism, too, but it wasn’t Bacon who was responsible for this. No, he just designed the building. The statue was the work of Daniel Chester French.

Designed with care

French’s Lincoln statue was clearly designed with care. The president’s face is very expressive and thoughtful, plus he is seated — an unusual feature for statues of this nature. Why did French make these decisions? Well, that’s open to interpretation, as a writer behind a biography of the sculptor has explained to National Geographic.

Speaking for itself

According to Harold Holzer, French rarely chose to explain the finer points of the thinking behind the works he designed. Elaborating, he said, “My favorite French quote on this was: ‘A statue has to speak for itself, and it seems useless to explain to everyone what it means. I have no doubt that people will read into my statue of Lincoln a great deal I did not consciously think. Whether it will be for good or ill, who can say?’”

A long time

French worked on his statue for about five years. That’s a long time, but it clearly illustrates the scale of his task. Even just in terms of its size, it’s easy to understand why he needed so much time to complete the project. Even though the figure of Lincoln is seated, it’s still extremely tall.

Revisions

From the seated position, the figure of Lincoln reaches about 19 feet. But if it was standing up, it would reach about 27 feet. Incidentally, the original design was way smaller, but French revised it. His originally intended scale, with the seated figure reaching 10 feet, would have left it appearing dwarfed within Bacon’s immense temple.

Under stress

As for the expression on Lincoln’s face, French put in a lot of research to get it right. He studied photographs of the slain president, as well as reading descriptions of him. As Rubenstein said, “It was Lincoln under stress, who had the burdens of presidency and the war. Those are the photos [French] had to work with, not those of a young Lincoln.”

The Piccirilli brothers

French didn’t work on his statue alone: it was far too big a project for that. No, he actually hired a group of brothers to carve the stone. The Piccirillis were six men originally from Italy who’d made a name for themselves in America as excellent sculptors.

Invaluable contribution

The Piccirilli brothers put in a lot of work on this project. Laboring in their workshop in the Bronx, New York, these men took great care to chisel out this statue in a series of slabs, which were then brought to Washington D.C. and assembled on-site. Their contribution was invaluable, yet they’re perhaps not as famous as you’d expect. French actually suggested carving their name into the plinth of the statue, but they declined the proposed credit.

Disruption

All in all, the whole Lincoln Memorial project took a long, long time. Work on the foundations started in February 1914 and was finished up in May 1915. Progress was steady on the main structure until April 1917, which is when the U.S. began to fight in World War I. That derailed the project, slowing it down drastically.

Taking shape

Still, by the end of 1919 the project was really starting to take shape. Throughout that December and the following month of January, the Lincoln statue itself was successfully pieced together. By 1921 paths leading to the landmark were installed, as were gardens. By May 30, 1922, the memorial had reached a level of completion where it could be officially dedicated. Finishing touches to the monument’s surroundings, though, continued for a few more years.

Beloved monument

Nowadays, it’s probably fair to suggest that the Lincoln Memorial is Washington D.C.’s most beloved monument. According to newspaper The Washington Post, a regular year will see something like 8 million people showing up to pay a visit to the structure. People of all stripes come to see the famous attraction firsthand.

American icon

For 100 years now, the Lincoln Memorial has been an American icon. It’s shown up in a bunch of movies, it can be seen on the currency, and it was the setting of some very important historical moments. Most notably, perhaps, Martin Luther King delivered his “I Have a Dream” monolog there in 1963.

A lot going on

The Lincoln Memorial is instantly recognizable to so many people, who have grown up seeing it in films, on money, or in real life. But not everyone fully appreciates the symbols and messages hidden away under the surface. There’s a lot going on at that monument, even down to something as simple as the statue’s hands.

Showing character

French put a lot of consideration into these hands. And despite his reputation for keeping quiet about his work, he even wrote about them. He said, “It has always seemed to me that the hands in portraiture were only secondary to the face in expression, and I depend quite as much upon them in showing character in force.”

Left and right

The statue’s right hand is open, while the left is clenched tightly. You might not think much of this, but lots of other people have read plenty into it. They think the open hand is welcoming, an extension of acceptance and warmth to his one-time Confederate enemies. The closed hand, meanwhile, shows Lincoln’s resolve to win the war.

Sign language

This seems like a reasonable interpretation of the statue’s hands and their meaning. But other people have proffered some additional thoughts about what French intended to convey with them. They think the designer had an understanding of sign language, and that the position of the hands was actually expressing the letters “L” and “A.”

The evidence

This might seem like a stretch, but proponents of the theory do have evidence they can cite to back up the claim. French had previously produced a statue of Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet, who was a pioneering figure when it came to educating the deaf community. This statue showed Gallaudet teaching a child the sign for “A.”

Lincoln’s interest

On top of that, Abraham Lincoln himself was known to be interested in deaf education. He wanted to encourage the take-up of sign language, and even gave the go-ahead for Gallaudet University. As the name suggests, this school for the deaf was established by the very same man who, as intimated above, became the subject of another of French’s statues. It all fits.

Other signs and symbols

But who knows whether or not French really did intend his statue to communicate in sign? It’s possible, but let’s not dwell on it. There are, after all, plenty of other signs and symbols at the site that bear closer examination. Some people, for instance, see references to the Roman Empire in the design.

Power

The Lincoln statue is resting its arms upon stacks of timber known as fasces, which in Roman times expressed power. Elsewhere, the columns of the monument — which are based on the Parthenon — are themselves full of hidden meaning. There are 36 of them, which is important. They represent the 36 states that, during Lincoln’s time, constituted the Union.

Tilted columns

The columns also have an interesting quirk, which is more for practical reasons rather than symbolic ones. The pillars look straight, but in actual fact they’re tilted. If they weren’t, the structure as a whole would look a little out of shape. It’s strange, but the best way to make them look straight was to tilt them.

Chamber of secrets

Another secret hidden away at the Lincoln Memorial is a massive chamber that sits underneath the statue. Given the sheer scale of the monument, the foundations needed to go very deep into the ground. That meant a big, subterranean space was required, and it’s obviously still there today.

The undercroft

The chamber is about three stories tall, and it’s known as the “undercroft.” It’s extremely evocative to think this massive, secret space exists underneath such a famous monument, and it’s easy to get carried away thinking about it. In reality, though, there’s not much down there, except from some stalactites and a little graffiti from the construction workers who’d labored there.

Beneath the surface

The Lincoln Memorial is obviously recognizable from the features we can see from the ground level. But the reality is that a huge proportion of the structure is actually beneath the surface. Roughly 40 percent of the total space it occupies lies underground, hidden away from public view.

Famous words

Back up on the surface, we can see a pair of the real Lincoln’s most well-known speeches carved into the walls. On one flank are the words from the Gettysburg Address, while on the other is his Inaugural Address following his reelection as president. These speeches are a huge part of the man’s legacy.

A mistake

You would think, then, that every single word would appear on the monument’s walls in pristine shape. In reality, that’s just not so. The truth is that the Inaugural Address was actually carved into the wall with a mistake. It shows up in the sentence that should read: “With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.”

“Euture”

Whoever was chiseling out this phrase made an error. Instead of carving out “future,” they accidentally used an “E” at the start of the word, spelling out the non-existent word “euture.” They must have been mortified! And while the mistake was covered over, if you look very carefully, you can still make out the blunder today.

Reading into it

Despite this mistake, the Lincoln Memorial is still one of the most revered monuments in the United States. And the man who created the statue within it always knew this would be the case. He was perfectly aware that people would study his design with a rabid intensity and interest.

Lasting legacy

So while the name Daniel Chester French isn’t terribly well-known today, his masterpiece is among the most famous creations in America. The sculptor put a lot of thought and effort into his design, loading it with meaning and symbolism. And even now, a hundred years after its unveiling, it continues to enrapture virtually all those who come to see it.

Kansas City Dogs

Enjoy these grilled beef Kansas City Dogs with mustard, pickle and barbecue sauce – a tangy dinner made ready in just 15 minutes!

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2023 03 12 10 37

Prep: 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 8 beef hot dogs
  • 1 cup refrigerated original barbecue sauce with shredded pork (from 18 ounce container)
  • 8 hot dog buns, split
  • 1/2 cup pickle slices
  • 2 medium green onions, sliced (2 tablespoons)
  • Mustard, if desired

Instructions

  1. Heat gas or charcoal grill.
  2. Place hot dogs on grill over medium heat.
  3. Cook uncovered for 10 to 15 minutes, turning frequently, until hot.
  4. Place sauce with pork in medium microwavable bowl; cover loosely.
  5. Microwave on HIGH for 45 to 60 seconds, stirring every 30 seconds, until hot.
  6. Place hot dogs on buns.
  7. Spoon about 2 tablespoons sauce with pork on each bun.
  8. Top with pickles, onions and mustard.

Notes

To broil hot dogs, set oven control to broil. Spray cookie sheet with cooking spray. Place hot dogs on cookie sheet. Broil with tops 4 to 6 inches from heat 4 to 5 minutes or until hot.

Never never underestimate others…..

https://youtu.be/GqeNgEcOO38

An Artist Made Stunning Illustrations About Modern Society

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Artist Steve Cutts is an illustrator and animator based in London.

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His story is very compelling. But it is more than that. Not every NDE is a “real experience”. Some narrators are just using the venue for their own purposes, others want to express their experience, but throw in other things. This is genuine.

Definitely worth a listen.

Meet Hilda: The America’s Forgotten Pin-Up Girl

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The typical 1950s pin-up girl was slim and conventionally-posed. But a recently-unearthed collection of images has revealed the less familiar Hilda, a plus-sized redhead who broke the mold with her plump figure and light-hearted demeanor.

More: Duane Bryers’ Hilda h/t: vintag.es

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Hilda, the creation of illustrator Duane Bryers (191-2012) and pin-up art’s best kept secret. Voluptuous in all the right places, a little clumsy but not at all shy about her figure, Hilda was one of the only atypical plus-sized pin-up queens to grace the pages of American calendars from the 1950s up until the early 1980s, and achieved moderate notoriety in the 1960s.

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Not only was Hilda one of the only plus-sized pin-up girls of her time, but she also displayed a fun, carefree and somewhat clumsy attitude, making her all the more charming.

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Italian Sausage, Peppers and Onion Sandwiches

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2023 03 12 10 38

Yield: 6 sandwiches

Ingredients

Filling

  • 1 1/2 pounds sweet Italian sausage
  • 4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 2 large cloves garlic, crushed
  • 1 large onion, thinly sliced
  • 2 green bell peppers, seeded and thinly sliced
  • 2 red bell peppers, seeded and thinly sliced
  • Salt and pepper

Bread

  • 6 crusty, submarine sandwich rolls, sesame seeded or plain

Instructions

  1. Slice the rolls making a nice pocket to fill.
  2. Place the sausages in a large nonstick skillet.
  3. Add 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and pierce the casings with a fork.
  4. Cover sausages, reduce heat and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes.
  5. Remove sausages and slice into 1-inch pieces on an angle, if desired. Otherwise, leave them whole.
  6. Add remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the skillet, if needed.
  7. Add garlic, onion and peppers.
  8. Season vegetables with salt and pepper.
  9. Add the sausages to the skillet.
  10. Toss and turn the sausage, peppers and onions, picking up all the drippings from the pan.
  11. Place the sausages and peppers into the sub rolls and serve.

U.S. B-52 “SIMULATES” NUCLEAR ATTACK AGAINST ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA – VIOLATES AIR SPACE

A United States B-52 stratofortress long-range bomber simulated a nuclear attack against St. Petersburg, Russia today, and _apparently_ violated Russia air space in the process.

March 11, 2023

Arms control and disarmament are on life support, and John Bolton and the Washington Post have predictably come along to try to prevent any resuscitation.  The Post masthead daily proclaims that “Democracy Dies in Darkness,” but the paper fails to recognize that there are seminal issues that affect the interests of democratic regimes.  Arms control is one of these issues.

Bolton has been fighting arms control and disarmament for the past several decades, and the Post has willingly provided a sounding board for his specious arguments.  In tracing the dangerous demise of disarmament, Bolton emerges as a dangerous and permanent presence.  He was the key adviser to the Bush and Trump administrations when they abrogated the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces Treaty, and the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (the Iranian nuclear accord).

These steps amounted to dangerous personal actions that were devoid of any consultative or substantive process.  National Security Adviser Bolton and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo were also enthusiastic supporters of regime change in Iran, which ignored our ill-fated experience with regime change in Iran 70 years ago.  Bolton also played a key role in the disinformation campaign against Iraq in the run-up to the U.S. invasion of 2003.

Bolton was the arms control adviser to President Bush in 2002, when he guided the abrogation of the ABM Treaty, the cornerstone of strategic deterrence and one of the pearls of Soviet-American disarmament policy.  Bush abrogated the ABM Treaty without cause in order to incur the outrageous and unnecessary expense of a National Missile Defense (NMD).  There is no better example in the creation of our national insecurity than Bolton’s foolish belief in thinking the United States could create an impenetrable nuclear umbrella.

In addition to encouraging an end to the Iran nuclear accord, which promised to bring a measure of predictability to the volatile Middle East, Bolton orchestrated the abrogation of the INF Treaty, which was responsible for the destruction of more missiles than any disarmament treaty in history.  The combination of ending the INF Treaty and any failure to renew the New START accord guarantees increased defense spending in the United States.

The Trump administration followed its INF disaster with withdrawal from the Open Skies Treaty, which had allowed more than 30 nations to permit unarmed observation aircraft to fly over their territories to observe military forces and activities.  President Dwight D. Eisenhower first proposed an Open Skies agreement in 1955 to reduce the risk of war for both intelligence and confidence-building purposes.  The Soviet Union rejected the proposal, which opened the door to U.S. U-2 flights over the Soviet Union to collect strategic intelligence.  In withdrawing from the Open Skies Treaty in 2000, the United States ended the “only means” for European states to “alleviate security concerns through timely overhead imagery,” according to former secretary of state George Shultz.

As part of the Trump administration, Bolton took advantage of the total inexperience and ignorance of Trump and his key advisers regarding arms control and disarmament.  (The Washington Post is similarly taking advantage of its readership in allowing a troglodyte like Bolton regular access to its editorial pages.)  In addition to leading the way in abrogating important treaties, Bolton did his best to weaken the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR), signed by 35 nations, to limit the sale of sophisticated weaponry, particularly advanced armed drones. Trump and Bolton ignored the restrictions of the MTCR in order to sell the MQ-9 Reaper to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates.  Both Saudi Arabia and the UAE have used advanced U.S. weaponry to conduct war crimes in Yemen.

Over the years, Bolton was also influential in making sure that the Pentagon’s Defense Planning Guidance assigned a high priority to replacing the current nuclear force, which was described as “obsolete” and “inflexible.”  Similarly, the Pentagon’s Nuclear Posture Review typically referred to current strategic weaponry as “old” and “untrustworthy.”  These documents are part of the Pentagon’s con game for greater defense spending in an effort to increase the overkill capability that currently exists.

The tragic reality is that nuclear weapons have no utilitarian value whatsoever, and the fact that American and Soviet leaders maintained a nuclear weapons inventory at one time that totaled more than 60,000 warheads points to the irresponsibility and cavalier attitudes of leaders in both countries.  With the abrogation of the ABM and INF treaties and the possible expiration of the New START Treaty in 2026, we are looking at a renewed arms race and the further appropriation of scarce resources on unneeded weapons,

If the United States is serious about arms control, the Biden administration needs to respond to Vladimir Putin’s previous interest in engaging the United States on no-first-use of nuclear weapons; no militarization of outer space; and the creation of nuclear-free zones.  Unlike Trump and Bush, who abrogated important arms control treaties. Putin merely suspended Russian membership in New START, which suggests the Kremlin hopes to resume the strategic discussion at some stage.

Meanwhile, Bolton argues that the strengthening of China as a nuclear power and its “entente with nuclear-superpower Russia” means that arms agreements with Moscow are not only “inadvisable but dangerous.”  Au contraire!  There has never been a more important time for rebuilding arms control agreements and the nuclear disarmament movement itself.

counterpunch.org

https://youtu.be/WBbpXMz0Kx8

It’s Official: Silicon Valley Bank Failed Due to a “Run” – $42 BILLION in Withdrawals

The collapse of Silicon Valley Bank was caused by a massive run on the bank, with customers initiating withdrawals of $42 billion this week.

The bank was placed into Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. receivership on Friday after the California Department of Financial Protection and Innovation (DFPI) determined the bank had been rendered insolvent.

Prior to the run on the bank, the bank was in “sound financial condition,” according to the DFPI. Customers withdrew $42 billion, leaving the bank with a negative cash balance of $958 million.

Here’s the summary of what happened from the DFPI’s order taking possession of the bank:

On March 8, 2023, the Bank announced a loss of approximately $1.8 billion from a sale of investments (U.S. treasuries and mortgage-backed securities). On March 8, 2023, the Bank’s holding company announced it was conducting a capital raise. Despite the bank being in sound financial condition prior to March 9, 2023, investors and depositors reacted by initiating withdrawals of $42 billion in deposits from the Bank on March 9, 2023, causing a run on the Bank. As of the close of business on March 9, the bank had a negative cash balance of approximately $958 million. Despite attempts from the Bank, with the assistance of regulators, to transfer collateral from various sources, the Bank did not meet its cash letter with the Federal Reserve. The precipitous deposit withdrawal has caused the Bank to be incapable of paying its obligations as they come due, and the bank is now insolvent.

Prior to its collapse, Silicon Valley Bank was the 16th largest bank by assets in the U.S. Federal Reserve data shows the bank had $209 billion in assets as of December 31, 2022.

How It Happened . . .

Peter Thiel’s Founders Fund and several other high-profile venture capital firms (i.e. Coatue Management, Union Square Ventures)  advised their portfolio companies to pull money from Silicon Valley Bank on Thursday, responding to panic about the bank’s financial situation in tech startup circles.

They asked on Thursday.  By Friday morning, the Bank was dead.

OPINION

It __looks__ like Peter Thiel and some of his Venture Capital buddies, panicked.

When they told their pals to pull money out of the bank over a measly $1.8 Billion loss during the Bank’s sale of some Mortgage Backed Securities, that set in motion the collapse of the bank.

Had Thiel and his pals just left things alone, it seems to many people the bank would still be standing.

Now, its a gigantic mess.

As a result of this mess, things can go one of two ways:

1) The mess is contained, FDIC comes in, protects basic depositors, and sells-off the rest of the Mortgage Backed Securities, and ****some**** of the uninsured Depositors get ****some**** of their money back . . . . years from now, OR;

2) The mess is NOT contained and this mess snowballs into a gigantic systemic collapse.

Next week will be telling about which way this will go.

UPDATE 9:25 AM EST (Saturday) —

The Bank of London is exploring the possibility of assembling a Rescue offer for Silicon Valley Bank (SVB) UK as start-up founders warn Jeremy Hunt that its collapse will “cripple” the British tech sector,

Elon Musk just said he is “open to the idea” to buy Silicon Valley Bank and become a digital bank.  (HT REMARK: As long as no major U.S. bank is willing to touch it, I wouldn’t expect Elon’s “golden touch” to stabilize everything.)

China orders its Finance Ministry to sell its US Treasuries at “fastest pace.”

Meanwhile, the People’s Bank of China has added over 102 tons of gold in 4 months in an attempt to limit counterparty risk in a conflict with the US over Taiwan.

What is next…

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2023 03 12 16 58

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China Foreign Minister Warns of Conflict with USA

Truth be told, the clear signs of the new non-Western world order are rapidly proliferating. Not only that 85 % of mankind have not joined “the Collective Biden” sanctions against Russia but as an example, thanks to these sanctions, India is now importing 33 times more from Russia than before. Iran, regardless of the U.S. sanctions on them, is now exporting more of its oil than before the sanctions. And the Republic of South Africa, as one very good but a somewhat different example, is dismissing the raging wrath expressed by the Collective West because of their (i.e. South African) marine military exercises with Russia recently. But as its key point, after Xi Jinping announced in Ryadh recently that China will be paying Saudi Arabia for Saudi oil in yuan, the Saudi Finance Minister confirms with a dollop of irony from Davos that the situation is abundantly clear that they will not sell oil exclusively in U.S. dollars. And, South African Minister of Foreign Affairs, Naledi Pandor reveals that more or less since 2014 the BRICS countries have been working hard on creating an alternative to the dollar system. All the projections tend to indicate that by 2030 China and India economies will be the biggest economies in the world and Russia will graciously overtake the economies of Germany and Japan.

The new world order is not a mere buzzword for the idle ones any more. One cannot but wonder who will shape it and in what manner: economically, financially and politically. Will the Collective West do their diabolical best to prevent that from happening by resorting to what they have always done: the truly global world war and possibly aided with nukes?

We are perhaps… at the most important… pivotal moment… of this entire world-changing exercise.

Your grand-kids will ask you about this date sometime in the future. Open your eyes. Pay attention.

Natasha Wright
March 8, 2023

It was Donbass and Crimea, which gave the staunchest opposition to the pro-European movements, by way of which the Collective West wanted to forcefully direct Ukraine’s future.

In Donbass, which used to be part of Ukraine up until recently, the local population have always spoken Russian as their mother tongue and considered themselves Russians i.e. members of the Russian population corpus. Donbass has up to recently been considered the richest part of Ukraine due to huge deposits of coal and other valuable and lucrative ores, including much-sought-after titanium. It was in effect Donbass together with Crimea, which gave the staunchest opposition to the pro-European movements, by way of which the Collective West wanted to forcefully direct Ukraine’s future.

After the coup orchestrated by the Collective West centres of power in Kiev in February 2014, and their legitimate President of Victor Yanukovych fleeing the country to Russia, in Donetsk and Lugansk regions, which did not (do not) want to live in subjugation to the forcefully and illegally imposed Kiev government, national militia was formed, which is trying to defend their population from the continual attacks by extremist formations and Ukrainian Army as well, which was soon to turn into an all-out war. Years of absolute downright terror perpetrated on the Donbass population of the region by the Kiev regime followed. Their response to that agonizing terror was the declaration of the independence by the Lugansk and Donetsk, to which Kiev regime responded in brutal military terror against the local Russian population for eight years up until February 2022.

During that period, in literally continual daily shelling of these republics at the time still not recognised, more than 14 000 people died tragically and 37 000 locals were wounded or injured. In the meantime, the Minsk Agreements were signed pertinent to the ceasefire and granting Donbass a special status, the guarantors of which were Paris, Berlin and Moscow. By reference to these agreements, Donbass was supposed to remain in Ukraine and thus be granted a special status, by way of which the entry of Ukraine into NATO would be precluded. The Ukrainian leaders regardless of having signed the two Minsk Agreements and participated in the negotiations in the Normandy Format did not consider that these were/are to be implemented (ever). At the beginning of the special military operation, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky stated in public that he had no intention of implementing them. The Former German Chancellor, Angela Merkel recently admitted that none of them had any intention of abiding by these agreements. They merely wanted to buy time so that they prepare and modernize Ukrainian army for them to ready themselves to stand in combat against the Russian military forces.

Obviously all of them considered the conflict inevitable. Russia was painfully aware where all that would lead. Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov in December 2021 asked Washington and NATO to provide written guarantees that NATO would not spread further eastward. Namely, he requested for Ukraine to preserve its neutrality. He sent a letter to all NATO and EU members respectively, requesting each of them to put forth their individual official declarations on the crisis of Ukraine. Lavrov reminded them of their agreement on the indivisible security principle, the meaning of which is as follows: ‘there is either ‘one security for all’ or there is security for none’. Brussels viewed that request by Sergey Lavrov as an effort to sow division and discord in the EU. Lavrov’s request for the sought guarantees was declined with frequent statements that they can negotiate with Russia only by use of weapons.

In the meantime, the situation in Donbass got to be continually exacerbated. Upon Kiev’s request, the Collective West started increasing the military aid for Ukraine. A few tonnes of weaponry were delivered to Ukraine including the Javelin anti-tank missile systems. It was rather clear that Kiev was on their warpath ‘to pacify the restless, resolutely unyielding population of Donbass once and for all. By the end of January 2022, the Collective West started the evacuation of their diplomats away from Kiev. Due to the worsening of the whole situation. on February 15, 2022, the State Duma and the Council of the Federation addressed the Russian President Vladimir Putin to recognise the independence of Lugansk and Donetsk People’s Republics.

Kiev responded by heavy shelling of the civilian and residential buildings, which was the shelling of the biggest proportions ever since 2014. The population started fleeing their homes in long processions seeking refuge in Russia. For the Russians it was the last political straw of brutal bloodshed when Ukrainian President Zelensky at the Minsk Security Conference declared that Ukraine could give up on their decades-long non-nuclear country status and annul their resolution when they had earlier renounced their nuclear arms after the collapse of the USSR.

The Donetsk and Lugansk government sought Vladimir Putin’s support to recognize their independence and declared general mobilization. Vladimir Putin then recognizes the independence of Donetsk and Lugansk People’s Republics on February 21. Early in the morning three days later, Russian President Vladimir Putin announced the beginning of the special military operation in Ukraine upon the request of Donbass. The goals of the operation were as follows: demilitarization and denazification of Ukraine. Russia shall not allow for Ukraine to get hold of nuclear arms and the NATO expansion eastward was/is non-negotiable.

The Russian Parliament Upper Chamber unanimously approved of the use of Russian armed forces abroad i.e. out of and not limited to the Russian national borders. The President of Russia warned that anybody who decides to interfere or meddle in the situation or endanger our country of Russia, that the response by Russia will be instantaneous and you shall face such consequences you have never experienced before’. That morning Russian military performed rocket shelling on the military infrastructure in Ukraine. Explosions eerily blasted and boomed in Kiev, Odessa, Dnipropetrovsk, Kharkov that fateful morning. Military infrastructure, anti-air defence facilities, military airports and Ukrainian armed forces aviation were rendered incompetent by use of high precision weaponry, said the Russian Ministry of Military Defence adding the words that civilians were not at risk.

The Russian army crossed the border in Kiev, Sumy, Chernigov, Kharkov and Kherson regions. At the same time, the national militia of Donetsk and Lugansk launched their offensive in the divide line of Donbass. The Russian forces occupy the Snake Island. A few dozens Russian helicopters with air raid forces crossed the border heading for the Gostomel village, which is located 25 kms away from Kiev. Around 300 Russian parachutists landed on the Antonov military airport and launched a full charge military offensive manoeuvre.

The surprise element played a crucial role. None of the Ukrainian military HQs expected that many helicopters to advance so deep into the mainland of Ukraine. They flew at very low altitudes, which enabled them to take the enemy radars by surprise. The airport had a huge strategic importance, due to which it had to be taken over but not destroyed. The Gostomel air raid is considered one of the most successful operations by the Russian air raid forces in their history. Russian defence minister Sergey Shoigu ordered the Russian army to treat Ukrainian troops with respect. He pointed out that Ukrainian soldiers, unlike the extremists, gave their oath to the Ukrainian people and they merely carried out orders issued to them.

At this point Kiev terminated their diplomatic relations with Moscow, and the Collective West introduced the highest number of sanctions in history against Russia: more than 10 000. Even in the first few days of the Russian special military operation, it was obvious that the Ukrainian army was installing missile guidance systems in the city centres. Putin addressed Ukrainian armed forces and their soldiers with the words to take the government in their own hands and not to allow Ukrainian neo-Nazis and Banderistas to use (and abuse) their children, wives and the old people as human shield for their own nefarious actions.

The former advisor the Ukrainian government administration, Aleksey Arestovich declared that Moscow tried to lead an intelligent war in the first few days of the special military operation. Russians were simply saying: ‘Surrender and we shall truly present you as heroes even in the museums of the future and you will be writing memoirs in your summer resort houses ‘. In the first days of the Russian special military operation, Russian army literally occupied the whole Kherson region without any fight or opposition from the locals, and a huge part of the Zaporozhye region. Russian units came to the suburbs of Kharkov and Kiev. They took over Chernobyl and Zaporozhye nuclear plants. The fiercest battles were fought in the Donetsk People’s Republic for Volnovakha and Mariupol. Cities of strategic importance Izyum in Kharkov region and Balakleya, in which there used to be one of the biggest weaponry warehouses was located, were liberated. During March 2022 the peace negotiations between Russia and Ukraine began.

Keeping Civilization Alive

Keeping civilization alive has fallen to us. A lot of us grew up believing that Democracy would deliver the best of all possible worlds, but that pleasant promise has become very obviously false. Rulership is not equipped to supply honest and humane living; what they are equipped to supply is ever-more rulership, aka, enforcement.

And so there’s no one to cultivate civilization but us, and we must do this. As briefly as possible, I’ll describe our situation, then move on to what we must do.

The Present Ruling Model

As I noted recently, there are two primary models for attaining a civilized, humane, high-trust way of life:

  1. Cultivate civilization within people.
  2. Enforce civilization upon people.

In the best of the old days, governments contented themselves to deal with exterior threats, leaving any number of religions and philosophies free to cultivate civilization within the populace.

Since the the 1970s, however, we’ve seen a hostile takeover of morality… of the enforcement of moral norms by the state. (Via the regulation or criminalization of everything.) Under this model, the state must enforce proper speech and sexual procedures; it must punish and repress the original sin of racism; it must enforce Green to prevent an apocalypse… it must eliminate threat after threat, ultimately bringing us to a promised land.

Ever-more enforcement is rulership’s path to paradise. And many people are pleased to believe such fantasies, coming, as they do, with no observable cost.

So, that’s where we are.

What, Then, Shall We Do?

What we need is to act on our own will and initiative. The good news is that we’re already doing just that. And as it turns out, we’re really good at it.

Our first job is to teach the next generation what is good and right. The enforcement complex will not do this (they’ll portray themselves as the ultimate standard of rightness) and so we need to teach the golden rule, tolerance, kindness, cooperation, integrity and so on.

The importance of this is extreme. I’m a bit more optimistic than historian Will Durant, but he had a point when he wrote this:

Civilization is not inherited; it has to be learned and earned by each generation anew; if the transmission should be interrupted for one century, civilization would die, and we should be savages again.

But again, it happens that we’re quite good at such things, provided that we undertake them directly, rather than handing them off to others in the name of convenience or in the name of specialization. There are no specialists who will teach basic decency to our children better than we can.

The ultimate training ground, of course, is the family. But again, that’s only useful if we do the work. The more honest, engaged and healthy our families, the more honest, engaged and healthy will be the next generation.

Civilization is also taught during the process of homeschooling. (Simultaneously keeping children from the toxic dogmas being pumped through government schools.) In the US, where the war on homeschooling remains at a fairly low level, 11.1 percent of American children are now said to be homeschooled. (So says the US Census) That’s a shocking number, and if it’s correct, it will bear noticeable fruit in not too many years.

Homeschool parents, whatever their shortfalls, are nearly always serious people, working hard to give their children the best education they can, including moral education. And if 11.1 percent of parents can do it, many more can do it as well.

In other places, particularly in Europe, homeschooling is barbarically persecuted, and so those of us in less-bad places should consider ways to help our oppressed brethren.

Past all of this, we have Bitcoin. This is money with civilization encoded within it. Bitcoin allows for no enforcer or overseer… has no handle for an overlord to grab. It is super-tolerant, in that censorship is very, very difficult and no one can be cut off because of their religion or anything else. More than that, Bitcoin has drawn to itself many of the most serious and morally-minded people.

What we need to do with Bitcoin is use it profligately. Bitcoin’s Lightning overlay (and dozens of Lightning-able wallets are available) accommodates any number of small purchases for trivial fees. We need to get this thing going. It’s freedom money, and thus morality money.

(Silver and gold could be used similarly, but that’s a post in itself. Hopefully soon.)

And So…

And so we have plenty to do. (And I haven’t mentioned things like talking to your neighbors, coworkers, people you ride the bus with, and so on.)

We’re on our own now… as perhaps we’ve always been. We need to do this. Pick a spot and start.

**

Paul Rosenberg

The true story behind how I got a Pee-wee Herman Chia Pet

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CHIA PET
CHIA PET

The Pee-wee Herman Chia Pet

A year ago, for Christmas, my longtime friend Cassandra Peterson AKA Elvira Mistress of the Dark, gave me her Elvira Chia Pet. I was immediately extremely jealous.

As my envy grew, I started looking on the box for a way to contact the company.

I broadened my search to the internet and found a phone number!

When I phoned, I heard a message that said my call was being routed to someone in the Chia department and then it rang a few times, then gave me the option of leaving a message.

Here’s the message I left:

“Hello. My name is Pee-wee Herman. My friend Elvira just gave me her Chia Pet for Christmas and I’m so jealous that I’m calling to find out who to talk with about how I could get a Pee-wee Chia Pet. 

It’s really me, honest. 

I know Elvira’s real name, Cassandra Peterson, and her manager, Mr M*****. Please let me know who could help me get a Pee-wee Chia Pet. My number is ***-***-****. 

I’ll be waiting by the phone. Thank you.”

As soon as I hung up I realized I should have left a different, less crazy message but it was too late. I waited a couple of days, all the while thinking a friend would inevitably be sending me a link to my message being posted on the internet.

Instead, 3 days after leaving the message, SOMEONE FROM THE CHIA PET COMPANY CALLED ME!

A very nice woman told me,

“Pee-wee, you can absolutely have a Chia Pet! In fact, we’d like to work with you on producing a whole line of Pee-wee products if you’d be interested.”

Well, the first product in my EXTENSIVE NEW LINE OF PEE-WEE MERCHANDISE is here. Guess what it is?! Wow—good guess!! THE PEE-WEE HERMAN CHIA PET is available NOW!!

I am almost sure you’re thinking right now about how you lived without it! Well, you don’t have to ponder that any longer!!!!! Buy 2 or more and get no discount at all! Same deal if you buy 10! These things won’t last forever unless you’re into buying a ‘used’ one.

BTW, the photo on the box really doesn’t the product justice. When I took out the first one it was like looking in the mirror!

I’m going to set up the Pee-wee Chia Pet and put it on the windowsill with my two other friends who have Chia Pets—Elvira and David Hasselhoff.

Massive Russian Missile Strikes Against Ukraine!

Wednesday evening here on the east coast of the United States, word began coming in at about 8:30 PM EST that an utterly massive missile attack by Russia had begun hitting Ukraine. All reports are now confirmed.  Russia appears to have launched the largest missile attack to date since hostilities began a year ago.

It began with Air Raid alerts in much of central Ukraine, as seen in the alert map below:

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2023 03 09 14 r47

Minutes later, confirmation that 6-7 Tu-22M Strategic Bombers reported Airborne over the Sea of Azov.  Air launched cruise missiles became the worry.

It quickly became clear that Russia was using  Shahid drones first to overwhelm the Air Defenses and then cruise missiles would follow.

Word then came in confirming:

– 15 Tu-95 Strategic Bombers Airborne

– 6-7 Tu-22 Strategic Bombers Airborne

– At least 3 Russian Missile Carriers in the Black Sea – Multiple Shahed-136 Drone launches

Within minutes Air Raid Sirens began sounding over all of Ukraine.

Here is how the reports came in — while I was on the air broadcasting . . . .

Dnipro. Unmanned aerial vehicle of the Shahed type. Air Defenses Activated.

Then Cruise Missiles confirmed to have been launched from the Black Sea towards Ukraine.

Explosions are heard in Odessa subscribers report.

Missiles seen moving in the direction of Vinnitsa and Kropivnitsky.

Missile(s) reported over Mykolaiv oblast.

Missiles then seen over the Vinnytsia Region heading towards Western Ukraine, confirmed to be Caliber cruise missile.

Reports of missile(s) heading towards Vinnytsia oblast. Explosions noted in Mykolaiv oblast.

Cruise missiles reported over the Kherson region towards Kiev.

Ukrainian Air Defense along the Black Sea are working hard to Intercept as many Cruise Missiles as they can.

Air defense activity reported in Mykolaiv oblast. Reports of missiles being shot down.

Explosions in Odesa and Mykolaiv regions.

“Due to the threat of a missile attack in Odessa and the region, emergency electricity shutdowns were introduced”

More explosions in Dnipro and Mykolaiv over the last few moments.

Initial reports of Russian Cruise Missiles fired from the Black Sea spotted over Moldova heading towards Western Ukraine.

Missiles from the Black Sea towards Ukraine.

Air raid sirens sounding in Kyiv and surrounding regions. Reports of Shahed drones airborne in addition to 10x Tu-95 bombers. Missile launches are possible.

Ukrainian jets have taken off in Kyiv. This is usually done to intercept missiles.

Reports of up to 15 Russian Tu-95 strategic bombers possibly carrying air-launched cruise missiles heading to launch points. If confirmed could be largest cruise missile attack of the war.

More missiles now in the direction of Zaporizhia and Vinnytsia.

Repeated explosions, Dnepropetrovsk, Nikolaev regions.

Missile towards Kryvyi Rih reported.

Missile reported in the direction of Cherkasy Oblast, central Ukraine.

Now missiles in the direction of Odeshchyna.

Explosions reported in Zaporozhye.

Missiles now reported over the City of Kryvyi Rih in Southern Central Ukraine.

It went on like this for over an hour.

At least 6 waves of missile launches hit Ukraine.   Concensus is that tonight was the largest missile strike by Russia against Ukraine since hostilities began.

VERY HEAVY DAMAGE to Ukraine.

Banbury Tarts

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2023 03 08 17 44

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) butter
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 2 egg yolks
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 4 cups flour
  • Seedless jelly or jam (preferably currant or raspberry)

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. In the bowl of a stand mixer, or in a large bowl using an electric mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, 3 to 5 minutes.
  3. Beat in the egg yolks, then the vanilla extract.
  4. Slowly beat in the flour until combined and smooth to form the dough (the dough will be a bit stiff at the end, and you may need to add the last cup of flour by hand).
  5. Form the dough into small balls and make a depression in the middle with your thumb.
  6. Spoon a teaspoon or so of jelly in the depression.
  7. Space the cookies about 2 inches apart on a baking sheet and bake until lightly browned, about 15 minutes.

It’s Official: China Foreign Minister Warns of “Conflict” with USA

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2023 03 08 11 46

China’s foreign minister on Tuesday warned of “conflict and confrontation” with the United States if Washington does not “hit the brakes” on its current approach to relations with Beijing.

“If the United States does not hit the brakes, but continues to speed down the wrong path, no amount of guardrails can prevent derailing, and there will surely be conflict and confrontation,” Foreign Minister Qin Gang said at the National People’s Congress.

He added that the U.S. call for “establishing guardrails and not seeking conflict simply means that China should not respond in word or in action when attacked.

Qin’s comments come as U.S.-China relations remain strained amid a series of controversies, including the suspected Chinese spy balloon that hovered in U.S. airspace last month. The U.S. military shot down the balloon off the coast of South Carolina after it spent a week traversing the country and reportedly surveilling strategic sites.

Qin accused the U.S. of overreacting to the balloon incident and creating “a diplomatic crisis that could have been avoided.”  Beijing has maintained that the high-flying object was a weather balloon that was blown off course.

“The result is the U.S. and China policy has entirely deviated from the rational and sound track,” he added.

Be The Person You Want To Be With

 

We’ve seen it time and time again. That one co-worker who is obese but is only attracted to people of a healthy weight, that one cousin who prefers to date highly successful people but have no ambition whatsoever, and that one friend who you love to death but they carry themselves like they’re in a post-apocalyptic era and for some reason they only want to date Instagram models.

And it’s not that we don’t think it could ever happen because we’ve seen a lot of people defy the odds and get the satisfaction of throwing a middle finger up at society’s expectations but the truth is that more often than not it doesn’t end up that way. I personally don’t put too much weight on leagues but that doesn’t mean that society doesn’t have certain social constructs and hierarchies that we still observe.

Most people want someone who is on their level or higher when it comes to attractiveness, finances, intelligence, education, social status etc. These matter a lot to some people while others care more about sharing fundamental values. So for example, my mom is a professor and published author and my dad is a plumber who owns his own business but barely made it out of high school alive. A lot of people wondered how he managed to snag my mom but what they didn’t understand was that they already shared a lot core values and he put in the work as well.

Here’s the thing, my father didn’t just sit there and hope that this gorgeous professor would just magically fall for him. He put in the work and even showed her that in some ways he was out of her league as well. She had a more attractive face but he had a way better physique and he eventually helped her to get fit. She was more educated but he was better at business and ended up helping her start her own. Oh, and he’s a great handy man and really good cook. He didn’t complain about how highly educated women like her were shallow for not dating blue collar men like him who weren’t as sophisticated or eloquent. He also didn’t push himself to be something he wasn’t. He worked on his weaknesses and presented his strengths, and went after what he wanted with reasonable expectations.

What I’m trying to say is that there is nothing wrong with having higher than average standards because I feel like some of you do. Some of you aren’t just looking for simple love and companionship. Some of you are looking for a partner that will wow you. You secretly want someone to make you feel validated. You want someone who is smarter than you, more attractive than you, funnier than you, more charismatic, more successful etc. You want someone from the top percentile to notice how good of a person you are and give you a chance. I get it and that’s totally fine. But understand that you’re going to have to put in the work and stop being bitter and disappointed when the guy/girl who you and everyone else is chasing after ends up being more picky because they have more options.

​My intention isn’t to come on here and make you feel less worthy and tell you that you can never find the person of you dreams. All I’m saying is that just like how you have certain expectations, other people will have their own too and the goal here is to ensure that you’re both satisfied with what the other person is bringing to the table. So for example, if you want someone who is very intelligent you have to think about what that person wants in return. Do they want someone equally as intelligent or do they care more about looks and humor? This will help you to evaluate your chances and decide if this is someone you want to put effort into pursuing.

US arrogance and belligerency has reached insane proportions. The whole world can see that except the US leaders perpetrating it.

Cynthia Chung
February 3, 2023

Japan’s economy does not require a prophet or crystal ball to tell you what lies ahead in its very near future: that is, that Japan has become the ticking time bomb for the world economy.

In case you haven’t been able to hear under all the media thunder of doomsday prophesying by so-called “experts” on China’s future economic performance (which has been going on for close to a decade and is more akin to wishful thinking than economic analysis), Japan’s economy does not require a prophet or crystal ball to tell you what lies ahead in its very near future: that is, that Japan has become the ticking time bomb for the world economy.

According to NIKKEI Asia, in an October report, Japan’s “yen weakened past 150 against the dollar reaching a new 32-year low as the policy gap widens between the Bank of Japan and the U.S. Federal Reserve…The Fed has repeatedly raised interest rates to tackle inflation, while the Bank of Japan maintains its ultraloose monetary policy to support the economy.

The Fed’s hawkish monetary policy, along with persistent inflation expectations, has pushed the benchmark 10-year U.S. Treasury yield up to 4%. The Bank of Japan, meanwhile, is continuing to hold the 10-year Japanese government bond yield near zero. The Japanese central bank conducted a bond-buying operation for the second straight day to keep the yield within its implicit range of -0.25% to 0.25%.

The yield gap is prompting investors to invest in dollars rather than yen, exerting strong downward pressure on the Japanese currency.” [emphasis added]

In response to this the Bank of Japan (BOJ) decided to maintain its “ultraloose monetary policy” as BOJ Governor Haruhiko Kuroda “highlighted downside risks to the economy and indicated his willingness to accept a weaker yen.” By mid-November it was reported that the Japanese economy shrank for the first time in four quarters as inflation and the weak yen hit the country. “Japan has a history of having suffered from extreme yen strength,” Kuroda added, suggesting that excessive weakness is easier to bear than a too-muscular currency.

By mid-November, NIKKEI Asia reported “Bank of Japan’s ultreasy policy under pressure as inflation hits 40-year high,” with food prices increasing by 3.6% on the year in October, well above the 2% target. Governor of the BOJ, Kuroda responded “The bank will continue with monetary easing, aiming to firmly support Japan’s economy and thereby achieve the price stability target of 2% in a sustainable and stable manner, accompanied by wage increases.

By mid-January Japan had reported a record low in annual trade deficit of $155 billion USD for 2022.

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2023 03 09 15 33

 

This is not a sudden outcome for Japan’s economy but rather has been a slow burn over a 12 year period. Alex Krainer writes: “Over the ensuing 12 years and several rounds of ever greater QE [quantitative easing], the imbalances have only worsened and in February last year, the BOJ was forced to go full Mario Draghi, all-that-it-takes, committing to buy unlimited amounts of JGB’s [Japanese Government Bonds]. At the same time however, the BOJ capped the interest rates on 10-year JGBs at 0.25% to avoid inflating the domestic borrowing costs…Well, if you conjure unlimited amounts of currency to monetize runaway government debt, and you keep the interest rates suppressed below market levels, you are certain to blow up the currency.”

Not unrelated to this unfolding of Japan’s economy was the meeting of the Trilateral Commission in Tokyo, Japan for their 50th anniversary this past November.

For those who are unaware, the Trilateral Commission was founded in the wake of the Watergate and oil crisis of 1973. It was formed under the pretense of addressing the “crisis of democracy” and calling for a reshaping of political systems in order to form a more “stable” international order and “cooperative” relations among regions.

Alex Krainer writes:

The commission was co-founded in July of 1973 by David Rockefeller, Zbigniew Brzezinski and a group of American, European and Japanese bankers, public officials and academics including Alan Greenspan and Paul Volcker. It was set up to foster close cooperation among nations that constituted the three-block architecture of today’s western empire. That ‘close cooperation’ was intended as the very foundation of the empire’s ‘three block agenda,’ as formulated by the stewards of the undead British Empire.”

Its formation would be organised by Britain’s hand in America, the Council on Foreign Relations, (aka: the offspring of the Royal Institute for International Affairs, the leading think tank for the British Crown).

Project Democracy would originate out of a Trilateral Commission meeting on May 31st, 1975 in Kyoto Japan, where the Trilateral Commission’s “Task Force on the Governability of Democracies” findings were delivered. The project was overseen by Trilateral Commission Director Zbigniew Brzezinski and its members James Schlesinger (former CIA Director) and Samuel P. Huntington.

It would mark the beginning of the end, introducing the policy, or more aptly “ideology”, for the need to instigate a “controlled disintegration of society.”

However, it appears certain participants of this Trilateral Commission are starting to catch on that this alliance between the United States, Western Europe and Japan for the restructuring of regions (à la League of Nations) is not what they so naively thought it would be, that is, that it would not be just about the disintegration of competing economies but would include their very own.

In the end, all would be expected to bend the knee in subservience to the head of a new world empire. As one of the attendees of this latest Trilateral meeting jokedsome…say that all the significant events in the world have been predetermined by the Trilateral Commission,” he said to laughter from the veteran attendees, however, “we don’t know who’s in, what they are saying!

Interestingly, three reporters from NIKKEI Asia were invited to observe this 50th anniversary gathering of the Trilateral Commission, the first time that press has been allowed entry into the notoriously secretive meetings. The meeting began with Rahm Emanuel, the U.S. Ambassador to Japan, delivering his remarks in a speech titled, “Democracy vs. Autocracy: You are going to see 2022 as an Inflection Point in the Success of Democracy.”

Interestingly, it seems that the Asian delegates weren’t too impressed.

NIKKEI Asia reported: “the press has been invited to highlight a rift that may be emerging between Asia and the other wings of the organization. ‘We feel that the U.S. policy toward Asia, especially toward China, has been narrow-minded and unyielding. We want the people in the U.S. to recognize the various Asian perspectives,’ said Masahisa Ikeda, an executive committee member of the Trilateral Commission. Ikeda has been named the next director of the Asia Pacific Group [of the Trilateral Commission], and is scheduled to assume the position next spring.

A new sentiment has now emerged from the Asia Pacific Group: Without proper steering, the U.S.-China rivalry may lead the world into a dangerous confrontation.” [emphasis added]

The U.S. Ambassador to Japan, Rahm Emanuel was quoted as saying while democracy is “sloppy” and “messy,” “the institutions of the democratic process, the political stability of the United States, NATO, the European countries, have held.”

However, there were many attendees who disagreed with Emanuel’s pro-U.S., pro-NATO, anti-China stance. “What is the ambassador saying?” a former Japanese official said on background. “We must engage China. If we force countries to choose sides, the Southeast Asian nations will choose China. The key is to not force them to choose,” he said.

I feel very much embarrassed and disappointed to see the complete void of Chinese participation in this meeting,” said a former Japanese financial official. A veteran member from the Philippines agreed, saying there is no point talking about Asia without the participation of the region’s largest country and expressed concern about dividing the world into two camps. “When two elephants fight, the ants get trampled. And we’re feeling it. When two elephants fight to the death, we will all be dead. And the question is: What for?” [emphasis added]

A South Korean professor told Emanuel in the Q&A period that there are concerns in Asia about the zero-sum thinking in U.S. foreign policy toward China. “We have to develop some deliverable strategy to persuade and engage un-like-minded countries as well.”

NIKKEI Asia also reportedThere were also members who noted how the liberal international order that Washington advocates is different from the original liberal order that was formed after World War II. ‘The original order, led by the U.S., sought a multifaceted extensive international system based on multilateral institutions and free trade among the democratic bloc,’ a South Korean academic said. The Six Party Talks on North Korea’s nuclear weapons was one such example of the original order, the academic said, noting that the U.S., China and Russia were all at the table.” [emphasis added]

The NIKKEI Asia report ended with a veteran of the Trilateral Commission – a former Philippine cabinet minister – who stated “Just in the past week, we edged toward a nuclear confrontation,” referring to the missile blast in Poland, that was initially suspected to be a Russian-made missile, but was more likely a Ukrainian air-defense missile that landed in NATO territory ‘by mistake.’ “And we edged toward that because of the type of zero sum games that us elders are playing. Is this what you want for your future? You don’t want a situation in the future where everybody’s edging toward the cliff and being macho about it without realizing that this is a zero-sum game that could wipe out the planet. It is beyond climate change,” the veteran said.

Japan’s “Shock Therapy” as a Response to the “Crisis of Democracy”

The Trilateral Commission is a non-governmental body, its members include elected and non-elected officials scattered throughout the world, ironically coming together to discuss how to address the “crisis of democracy” in the most undemocratic process possible. It is an organisation meant to uphold the “interests” of its members, regardless of who the people voted into political office.

On Nov 9th, 1978, Trilateral Commission member Paul Volcker (Federal Reserve Chairman from 1979-1987) would affirm at a lecture delivered at Warwick University in England: “A controlled disintegration in the world economy is a legitimate object for the 1980s.” This is also the ideology that has shaped Milton Friedman’s “Shock Therapy”. By the time of Jimmy Carter’s Administration, the majority of the government was being run by members of the Trilateral Commission.

In 1975 the CFR launched a public study of global policy titled the 1980’s Project. The general theme was “controlled disintegration” of the world economy, and the report did not attempt to hide the famine, social chaos, and death its policy would bring upon most of the world’s population.

The study explained that the world financial and economic system needed a complete overhaul according to which key sectors such as energy, credit allocation and food would be placed under the direction of a single global administration. The objective of this reorganization would be the replacement of sovereign nation states (using the League of Nations model).

This is precisely and demonstrably what has occurred to Japan’s economy over the past four decades, as showcased in the Princes of Yen documentary based off of Richard Werner’s book by the same title. As Werner demonstrates, Japan’s economy was purposefully put through multiple economic crises throughout the 80s and 90s in order to push through massive structural reform despite their economy having been one of the world’s top performing before foreign tampering.

As Werner insightfully remarked, the best way to have a crisis is to manufacture a bubble, that way, nobody will stop you.

To understand the incredible significance of this, we will need a quick review of what occurred to Japan’s economy over a 40-year period.

Japan’s Offering to the Gods on the Altar of “Free Trade”

By the 1980s, Japan was the second biggest economy in the world next to the United States and was a leader in the manufacturing of consumer technology products to the West, including the United States. Due to Japan’s investment in automation tools and processes, Japan was able to produce products faster and cheaper than the United States that were also superior in quality.

One of the examples of this was competition between the two in the memory chip DRAM market. In 1985, there was a recession in the United States in the computer market, resulting in the biggest crash in over ten years for Intel. Complaints from certain quarters in the United States began criticizing Japan for “predatory” and “unfair” trade practices despite the recession in 1985 being a demand problem and not a competition problem.

Long story short, President Reagan, who was supposed to be all about free markets, in the spring of 1986 forced the U.S.-Japan Semiconductor Agreement with METI (Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry in Japan).

Part of the conditionalities of this agreement were that the American semiconductor share in the Japanese market be increased to a target of 20-30% in five years, that every Japanese firm stop its “dumping” into the American market and the Americans wanted a separate monitoring body to help enforce all of this.

No surprise here, the Japanese companies refused to do this and METI had no way of forcing them to do so.

President Reagan responded by imposing a 100% tariff on $300 million worth of Japanese goods in April 1987. Combined with the 1985 Plaza Agreement which revalued the Japanese Yen the U.S.-Japan Semiconductor Agreement gave the U.S. memory market the extra boost it needed. (for more details on story of how the U.S. tampered with the Japanese semiconductor market refer here).

The Plaza Accord was signed in 1985 by Japan, Germany, France, Britain and the United States. The agreement depreciated the United States Dollar against the Japanese Yen and the German Deustche Mark in an effort to improve the competitiveness of American exports. How very “free market”!!! (Refer here for the story of De Gaulle and Adenauer’s attempt to form the European Monetary System which was sabotaged by Anglo-America). Over the next two years after the signing of the Plaza Accord, the dollar lost 51% of its value against the yen. Japan entered the Plaza Accord to avoid having its goods tariffed and locked out of the American market.

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The Yen’s appreciation plunged the Japanese manufacturing sector into recession. In response to this, the Bank of Japan loosened monetary lending policies and lowered interest rates. This cheap money was supposed to be funneled into productive efforts. Instead, it went into stocks, real estate, and asset speculation. This is when Japanese real estate and stocks reached their peak price level.

Between 1985 and 1989, stocks rose in Japan by 240% and land prices by 245%. By the end of the 80s the value of the garden surrounding the Imperial Palace in central Tokyo was worth as much as the entire state of California.

Although Japan is only 1/26th of the size of the United States its land was valued at four times greater. The market value of a single one of Tokyo’s 23 districts, the Central Chiyoda Ward exceeded the value of the whole of Canada.

With asset and stock prices rising inexorably even traditional manufacturers could not resist the temptation to try their hand at playing the markets. Soon they expanded their finance and treasury divisions to handle the speculation themselves. The frenzy reached such proportions that many leading manufacturers, such as the car maker Nissan, made more money through speculative investments than through manufacturing cars.

The Princes of Yen documentary explains: “Many credited the boom in Japan’s economy to high and rising productivity. In reality, Japan’s stellar performance in the 1980s had little to do with management techniques. Instead of being used to limit and direct credit, window guidance was used to create a giant bubble. It was the Bank of Japan who had forced the banks to increasing their lending by so much. The Bank of Japan knew that the only way for banks to fulfill their loan quotas was for them to expand non-productive lending.

Between 1986 and 1989, Toshihiko Fukui was the head of the Banking Department at the Bank of Japan and would later become the 29th Governor of the Bank of Japan. This was the department that was responsible for the window guidance quotas.

When Fukui was asked by a journalist “Borrowing is expanding fast, don’t you have any intention of closing the tap of bank loans?” Fukui replied “Because the consistent policy of monetary easing continues, quantity control of bank loans would imply a self-contradiction. Therefore, we do not intend to implement quantitative tightening. With structural adjustment of the economy going on for quite a long period, the international imbalances are being addressed. The monetary policy supports this, thus we have the responsibility to continue the monetary easing policy as long as possible. Therefore, it is natural for bank loans to expand.”

In Japan, total private sector land wealth rose from 14.2 trillion yen in 1969, to 2000 trillion yen in 1989.

The Princes of Yen documentary reported: “At his first press conference as the 26th governor of the Bank of Japan, in 1989, Yasushi Mieno said that ‘Since the previous policy of monetary easing had caused the land price rise problems, real estate-related lending would now be restricted.’ Mieno was hailed as a hero in the press to put a stop to this silly monetary policy that was responsible for the increasing gap between the rich and the poor. However, Mieno was deputy governor [of the Bank of Japan] during the bubble era, and he was in charge of creating the bubble.

All of a sudden land and asset prices stop rising. In 1990 alone, the stock market dropped by 32%. Then in July 1991, window guidance was abolished. As banks realised that the majority of the 99 trillion yen in bubble loans were likely to turn sour, they became so fearful that they not only stopped lending to speculators, but also restricted loans to everyone else. More than 5 million Japanese lost their jobs and did not find employment elsewhere. Suicide became the leading cause of death for men between the ages of 20 and 44.

Between 1990 and 2003, 212,000 companies went bankrupt. In the same period, the stock market dropped by 80%. Land prices in the major cities fell by up to 84%. Meanwhile, the Governor of the Bank of Japan, Yasushi Mieno, said that ‘Thanks to this recession, everyone is becoming conscious of the need to implement economic transformation’.”

Between 1992 and 2002, ten stimulation packages worth 146 trillion yen were issued. The thought was domestic demand had to be boosted by government spending and then loan demand would also rise. For a decade the government executed this approach, boosting government debt to historic levels.

Richard Werner remarkedThe government was spending with the right hand, putting money into the economy, but the fundraising was done through the bond market, and therefore it took the same money out of the economy with the left hand. There was no increase in total purchasing power, and that’s why the government spending couldn’t have an impact.”

By 2011, Japan’s government debt would reach 230% of GDP, the highest in the world. The Ministry of Finance was running out of options. Observers began to blame the Ministry of Finance (despite the clear sabotage by the Bank of Japan’s actions) for the recession, and started to listen to the voices that argued that the recession was due to Japan’s economic system.

In Japan, the authorities and the Bank of Japan argued, as did the Western powers almost two decades later, that the taxpayer should foot the bill. However, taxpayers have not been responsible for the banks problems, therefore, such policies have created a moral hazard (a moral hazard is a situation where an economic actor has an incentive to increase its exposure to risk because it does not bear the full costs of that risk).

According to the Princes of Yen documentary, Finance Minister Masajuro Shiokawa had turned to the Bank of Japan asking it to help stop deflation, or fight deflation at least. The Bank of Japan consistently defied calls by the government, by the Finance Minister and the Prime Minister of Japan, to create more money to stimulate the economy and end the long recession. At times the Bank of Japan even actively reduced the amount of money circulating in the economy, which worsened the recession. The Bank of Japan’s arguments always came to the same conclusion, namely that the blame lay in Japan’s economic structure.

It should also be noted that a whole generation of Japan’s economists were sent to the United States to receive PhDs and MBAs in U.S. style economics. Since neoclassical economics assumes that there is only one type of economic system, namely, unmitigated free markets, where shareholders and central bankers rule supreme, many Japanese economists quickly came to regurgitate the arguments of U.S. economists.

By the late 1990s, Japan’s economy was heading for the rocks. Ira Shapiro who worked as a U.S. ‘negotiator’ of U.S.-Japan talks during this period statedPrimary sector deregulation is needed to overcome the entrenched interests of large insurance companies, life and non-life, and the Ministry of Finance bureaucracy.

On Shapiro’s Federalist Society biography page, he is described as playing “a central role in the negotiation and legislative approval of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the multilateral Uruguay Round that created the World Trade Organization and the current trade rules.”

These U.S.-Japan talks needed to reach an agreement by a deadline decided by the United States. If no agreement were met after the declared deadline, then the U.S. had threatened to impose trade sanctions.

Richard Werner clarified what would be the consequences of Shapiro’s demands to the Japanese; that securitisation of the real estate was being pushed however, in order to have meaningful securitisation we need deregulation, and to get deregulation you have to reduce the power of the Ministry of Finance. This in turn would allow the Bank of Japan, who was under the purview of the Ministry of Finance, to gain power.

From the mid 1990s onwards the Government began to dismantle much of the power structure of the Ministry of Finance. The Bank of Japan, on the other hand, saw its influence grow significantly. The Bank of Japan was cut loose from the Ministry of Finance pretty much making it independent.

Soon after his retirement from the position of governor of the Bank of Japan in 1994, Mieno embarked on a campaign, giving speeches to various associations and interest groups. He lobbied for a change in the Bank of Japan law. His line of argument was to subtly suggest that the Ministry of Finance had pushed the Bank of Japan into the wrong policies. To avoid such problems in the future, the Bank of Japan had to be given full legal independence.

In 1998 monetary policy was put into the hands of the newly independent Bank of Japan.

In early 2001, a new type of politician was swept into power. Junichiro Koizumi became the Prime Minister of Japan. In terms of his popularity and his policies he is often compared to Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. His message was simply: no recovery without structural reform.

Princes of Yen remarked: “During 2001, the message of no economic growth without structural reform had been broadcast on an almost daily basis on the nation’s TV screens. Japan was shifting its economic system to a U.S. style market economy, and that also meant that the centre of the economy was being moved from banks to stock markets. To entice depositors to pull their money out of banks and into the risky stock market, reformers withdrew the guarantee on all bank deposits, while creating tax incentives for stock investments.

As U.S. style shareholder capitalism spread, unemployment rose significantly, income and wealth disparities rose, as did suicides and incidents of violent crime. Then, in 2002, the Bank of Japan strengthened its efforts to worsen bank balance sheets and force banks to foreclose on their borrowers…Heizo Takenaka [the new Minister for Financial Services] was supportive of the Bank of Japan’s plan to increase foreclosures of borrowers…Takuro Morinaga, a well-known economist in Tokyo, argued forcefully that the Bank of Japan inspired proposal by Takenaka would not have many indigenous beneficiaries, but instead would mainly benefit U.S. vulture funds specialising in the purchase of distressed assets…[When Toshihiko] Fukui’s support for the bankruptcy plan was voiced… [he] was an adviser of the Wall Street investment firm Goldman Sachs, one of the largest operators of vulture funds in the world.”

Richard Werner remarked: “Mr. [Toshihiko] Fukui [29th Governor of the Bank of Japan], and also his mentor Mr. [Yasushi] Mieno [26th Governor of the Bank of Japan], and his mentor Mr. [Haruo] Maekawa [24th Governor of the Bank of Japan], and you’ve guessed it, these are some of the Princes of the Yen that the book is all about. They have said on the record in the 80s and the 90s, ‘What is the goal of monetary policy? It is to change the economic structure.’ Now how do you do that? Well, you need a crisis. They made a crisis in order to change the economic structure.”

The department responsible for the window guidance quotas at the Bank of Japan, was called the Banking Department. The man at the head of this from ‘1986 to ’1989, was Toshihiko Fukui. Mr. Fukui thus directly helped create the bubble. When Fukui had become governor of the Bank of Japan, he would sayWhile destroying the high-growth model, I am building a model that suits the new era.

Richard Werner remarked: “They have succeeded on all counts. If you look at the list of their goals, destroy the Ministry of Finance, break it up, get an independent supervisory agency, reach independence for the Bank of Japan itself by changing the Bank of Japan law, and engineer deep structural changes in the economy, by shifting from manufacturing to services, opening up, deregulating, liberalising, privatising, the whole lot.”

U.S. Fomenting “Maiden-Style” Revolution in Country of Georgia. Paying Protesters – Even Ukraine Refugees – To cause “Second War Front” for Russia

The United States is fomenting and facilitating another “color-revolution,” this one in the country of Georgia. Millions of US Dollars are being handed out by the U.S. Embassy to local people for them to protest the Georgia government.  The goal is to cause another “color revolution” and thereby cause a second war front against . . . Russia.

Mass protests are taking place in Georgia after the country’s parliament passed a bill designating non-governmental organizations (NGO’s) and media that receive more than 20% of their funding from abroad as “foreign agents”. The people protesting? The foreign agents.

 

Strange that __their__new law mimics . . . . U.S. Law . . . .

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The Protesters are already starting to get violent.  Below, they’re taking protective barriers OFF THE BUILDING!

 

 

You may have noticed quite a bit of ‘blue/yellow’ lot in the crowd there?  Ukraine Refugees!

Another “Maidan”

What is taking place here is another Ukraine-type “revolution” to overthrow the government of Georgia, like the “Maiden” actions inside Ukraine back in 2014.   Another Maidan near Russian borders. Preparing another nation as cannon fodder to fight Russia in the interests of London and Washington.

Even the general public sees what’s going on and isn’t staying quiet about it:

 

 

and . . .

 

 

As seen on the scalable map below, Georgia is to the south of Russia.   The apparent goal of the US is to cause more war action to split-apart Russian military might, cause them to have to fight on two fronts, and maybe, just maybe, they can “save” Ukraine in the process.

 

Even Diplomats see what’s going on and are speaking about it publicly:

 

Is there no end to the trouble that the United States can cause?

Chinese online mapping platform Amap makes over 300b positioning calls/day using BeiDou satellites

2023-02-20 Global Times Editor:Li Yan

Chinese online mapping platform Amap revealed on Saturday that its daily usage of the domestically developed BeiDou Navigation Satellite System (BDS) to make positioning calls had exceeded 300 billion times as of January, and it vowed to expand the application of BDS in the transportation sector.

Amap and a spatial-intelligent infrastructure company Qianxun SI have jointly initiated an innovation plan for BeiDou's application in transportation. They aim to combine technical strength and market resources from all walks of life to explore and expand the industrial application of the BDS, according to a statement released by the Beijing Institute of Space Science and Technology Information on Saturday.

BeiDou's high-precision service has been deeply integrated into the transportation sector, showing the advantages of more stable positioning signals, higher positioning quality and faster positioning speed, read the statement.

It has outpaced Global Positioning System (GPS) and become the top guidance service provider for domestic mapping platforms. Based on the average number of satellites called by domestic navigation apps for each positioning, BeiDou satellites have been called the most, 30 percent more than the second-ranked GPS, the China Media Group reported.

BeiDou playing a dominant role in the domestic navigation sector is of great significance. For starters, as a homegrown technology, it is free from external meddling, and it could ensure data and information security. In addition, the positioning quality of BDS has proved in many scenarios to be much better than GPS, Liu Dingding, a Beijing-based veteran market analyst, told the Global Times.

The BDS has also been widely used in many industrial and agricultural sectors, from port management and grain production to providing disaster relief.

According to the Beijing Institute of Space Science and Technology Information, the BDS has been widely implemented in major domestic ports, including Dalian port in Northeast China's Liaoning Province, Qingdao port in East China's Shandong Province and Guangzhou port in South China's Guangdong Province.

The market for BeiDou's smart port application has grown rapidly in recent years, becoming a scientific and technological force boosting ports' development and supporting.....

Article HERE

Photographer by Ruth Orkin Captured Stunning Color Photographs of New York City in the 1950s

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Ruth Orkin was a trailblazing photojournalist and filmmaker, whose passion for photography began at a young age. Born in Boston, Orkin grew up in Hollywood during the 1920s and 1930s, and was gifted her first camera, a 39 cent Univex, at the age of 10. It was a gift that would change the course of her life.

h/t: vintag.es

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Debt And Compliance

I’ve advised people to get and stay out of debt for a long time, but even so, I didn’t fully understand the affects of debt until the Covid time hit us. As the mayhem spread, I struggled to understand the level of compliance with what would have been, at any other time, criminal medical advice: To take an untested vaccine, and one that didn’t even fit the definition of a vaccine. (Until the definition was rewritten, of course.)

Certainly compliance was driven by massive applications of fear. And, certainly, it was accompanied by exceptional levels of guilt, as in “You’ll be responsible for killing Grandma!” Still, there was more to it, and that extra piece, I soon enough realized, was debt.

If I Had An Economist…

If I had an economist on my payroll, I’d assign them to a very simple task: Go find the relevant data, and correlate levels of debt and levels of compliance. I’d bet large that the correlation would be statistically significant.

Consider the typical police officer: He or she is on the job for benefits and steady paychecks: large American cities aren’t going to stop writing paychecks any time soon, nor will the various police unions let go of the benefit packages that justify them. This exemplary cop, like nearly all police officers, is deeply in debt. They have a mortgage and quite possible a home-equity loan or line of credit. They also have a car loan or two, and credit cards beyond that. There may also be student loans.

So, this typical law enforcer cannot leave their job without facing financial ruin… financial ruin plus a complete loss of place and standing. Such a loss, to them, would be almost an existential crisis. And so, when orders come down from the high-and-mighties, demanding that they comply with a medical regime, the choice they face is between compliance and complete ruin.

And consider the average doctor: Although they make more money than the police officer, they also have a larger home loan, larger car loans, and very definitely larger student loans.

More than that, the independence of physicians was destroyed by Obamacare. And so, the doctors of America were in no better shape than the police officers of America: they could either comply or be ruined. (The situation in other places isn’t generally much better.)

The same, of course, goes for nurses, teachers, and a hundred other types. Nearly everyone in the West, over the past couple of decades, has been stampeded into massive levels of debt. It’s been the only way to keep up a certain level of prosperity and lifestyle. And, of course, it has worked: If you’ve found respectable employment with anything big – corporations, institutions or government – you’ve been able to roll over your debt indefinitely.

And so, when everyone associated with large employers was ordered (seemingly in concert) to take a highly questionable “vaccine,” the majority agonized for a while, and then they complied.

After Compliance

None of this is to say that the people who complied are stupid, weak, or anything of the sort: They were merely under enormous pressure, during a deeply confused moment, submerged in fear. In that situation, they had no choice but to weigh the risks as best they could, then make the choice that seemed to offer the least pain. And so they did.

Now it’s clear that the fear was overplayed, that the “vaccines” didn’t stop anyone from getting the disease, and that there have been both health and financial repercussions. But it wasn’t so clear at the time.

During the mayhem, the people who complied under pressure generally fought those who didn’t, at least if they were vocal about it. After all, they were directly challenging their dignity. Now, however, time has passed and only die-hards (those who profited from the Covid time) are still hammering away with guilt and fear, and the police officers, et al, are sorting things out. By ones and twos they are becoming ready to say that things went too far.

What I hope is that these people will recognize the role that debt played in their choices. Debt was a sword hanging over their heads, and it distorted their decision process.

Out And Away

If we want practical freedom, we need to be free from the influence of debt. The people controlling all that debt have far more power over us than we thought.

As it turns out, the old admonitions to avoid debt weren’t wrong. Debt can undermine our choices and subvert our character. It’s to be used sparingly and carefully at best.

**

Paul Rosenberg

VIDEO: Yet ANOTHER Train Derailment; This Time in Oklahoma

Yet another freight train has derailed in the United States; this one in Oklahoma.  Thankfully, no apparent injuries or Hazmat Leakage.  VIDEO below:

 

https://youtu.be/HG04Nc-1KZQ?list=PLQQ4DpKtNIp-6tVYd4bJlijZYrKyQ9Ktt

Baked English Muffins

These beautiful, high-rising English muffins are baked, not cooked on a griddle. While their interior isn’t filled with the signature fissures of a griddle-baked English muffin, their texture is still craggy enough to trap and hold butter and jam — which is the point, after all.

baked english muffins
baked english muffins

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour
  • 1/2 cup Hi-maize Natural Fiber
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon Pizza Dough Flavor (optional)
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 tablespoons granualted sugar
  • 2 teaspoons instant yeast
  • 1 cup + 2 tablespoons lukewarm milk*
  • 2 tablespoons melted butter
  • 2 teaspoons vinegar, white or cider
  • Cornmeal or semolina to coat the muffins

* Or substitute 1/4 cup (1 1/4 ounces) Bakers’ Special Dry Milk, and 1 cup + 2 tablespoons (9 ounces) lukewarm water; don’t mix them together, the dry milk doesn’t reconstitute.

Instructions

  1. Stir together all the ingredients except the semolina or cornmeal. Beat for 1 minute at high speed of an electric mixer; the dough will become somewhat smooth.
  2. Scrape the dough into the center of the bowl, cover, and allow it to rise for about 60 minutes, until it’s quite puffy.
  3. Grease a large (18 x 13 inch) baking sheet; or line with parchment. Grease twelve 3 3/4″ English muffin rings, and place them on the baking sheet.
  4. Sprinkle semolina or cornmeal into each ring.
  5. Turn the dough onto a lightly greased or floured work surface. Cut it into 12 equal pieces; each will weigh a scant 2 ounces, or about 54g.
  6. Shape the dough into balls. Place each ball into a ring, pressing it down to flatten somewhat. Sprinkle with a bit more cornmeal or semolina, and top with a greased baking sheet (or a sheet of parchment, then the baking sheet). The baking sheet should be resting atop the rings.
  7. Let the muffins rise for about 60 to 90 minutes, until they’ve puffed up noticeably. While the dough is rising, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
  8. Bake the risen muffins for 10 minutes. Flip the pans over, and bake for 5 minutes more.
  9. Remove the top pan, and bake for an additional 3 to 5 minutes, until they’re a light golden brown, and the interior of one registers about 200 degrees F on an instant-read thermometer.
  10. Remove the muffins from the oven, and transfer them to a rack to cool. Remove their rings as soon as you’re able.
  11. When completely cool, store muffins in a plastic bag.

Yield: 12 muffins | Hands-on: 20 to 32 min | Bake: 25 to 30 min

Recipe and photo used with permission from: King Arthur Flour

Wholly smokes!

This is actually the original. Parodied the song “Love Jones” by Brighter Side of Darkness

The World’s Greatest Gallery Of Seductive Carrots

The world is bat-shit crazy, but…

I’ll tell youse guys it’s all changing. There’s some movement on not being so focused on a  war with China. This is promising.

It all fits together.

What the world needs right now is ART…

This Artist Inks People With Micro Pop Culture Tattoos, And Here Are His Best Works

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Go big or go home? How about go small and conquer the Internet while securing a career in the craft you love? Eden Kozokaro, aka Kozo Tattoo, is a tattoo artist from Israel who made a name for himself with his micro designs. From popular TV shows and movies to comic books and music, Eden’s colorful miniatures often feature pop culture elements, and look so detailed and precise, the man could’ve easily become a surgeon.

More: Instagram h/t: boredpanda

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Not a paid promotion. I just thought these inventions were just crazy cool!

  • Don’t march on Moscow.
  • Don’t bluff the Chinese.

Chinese people give utmost respect due a head of state. In around the year 1400s, a Sulu king (Sulu Sultanate of southern Philippines ) who paid Chinese emperor a visit died of illness in China. The muslim Sulu king, Datu Paduka, was accorded funeral ceremonies fit for a king. His grave is still there, very well kept. History tells us that Chinese people are a respectful people and does not look down or belittle smaller countries..

Final statement: “It’s looking like a Chinese-led bloc.”

South Korea to ask US to let chip makers keep investment in China

After bearing the consequences of obeying Biden orders to sanction China, South Korea experience first hand: a drastic drop in chip revenue, excess chip stock problem and price collapsed, and a historic massive trade deficit with China. 

US me-only policies will end up self-decoupling from the rest of the world. The force of markets, factors of production will turn against the barbarian regimes in favour of the win - win China. 

One should note that China is super careful in selecting the list of US companies for sanctions. 

Seoul is seeking ways to allow chip makers such as Samsung Electronics and SK Hynix to retain semiconductor facilities in China.  It is still unclear whether South Korean companies can extend a one-year reprieve from the US on its export controls targeting China
Article here

Insert <country> here…

What Was It Like To Be In Hiroshima Survivor On August 6, 1945?

 

“The hour was early; the morning still, warm, and beautiful. Shimmering leaves, reflecting sunlight from a cloudless sky, made a pleasant contrast with shadows in my garden as I gazed absently through wide-flung doors opening to the south.

Clad in drawers and undershirt, I was sprawled on the living room floor exhausted because I had just spent a sleepless night on duty as an air warden in my hospital.

Suddenly, a strong flash of light startled me – and then another. So well does one recall little things that I remember vividly how a stone lantern in the garden became brilliantly lit and I debated whether this light was caused by a magnesium flare or sparks from a passing trolley.

 

Garden shadows disappeared. The view where a moment before had been so bright and sunny was now dark and hazy. Through swirling dust I could barely discern a wooden column that had supported one comer of my house. It was leaning crazily and the roof sagged dangerously.

Moving instinctively, I tried to escape, but rubble and fallen timbers barred the way. By picking my way cautiously I managed to reach the roka [an outside hallway] and stepped down into my garden. A profound weakness overcame me, so I stopped to regain my strength. To my surprise I discovered that I was completely naked How odd! Where were my drawers and undershirt?

What had happened?

All over the right side of my body I was cut and bleeding. A large splinter was protruding from a mangled wound in my thigh, and something warm trickled into my mouth. My check was torn, I discovered as I felt it gingerly, with the lower lip laid wide open. Embedded in my neck was a sizable fragment of glass which I matter-of-factly dislodged, and with the detachment of one stunned and shocked I studied it and my blood-stained hand.

Where was my wife?

Suddenly thoroughly alarmed, I began to yell for her: ‘Yaeko-san! Yaeko-san! Where are you?’ Blood began to spurt. Had my carotid artery been cut? Would I bleed to death? Frightened and irrational, I called out again ‘It’s a five-hundred-ton bomb! Yaeko-san, where are you? A five- hundred-ton bomb has fallen!’

Yaeko-san, pale and frightened, her clothes torn and blood stained, emerged from the ruins of our house holding her elbow. Seeing her, I was reassured. My own panic assuaged, I tried to reassure her.

‘We’ll be all right,’ I exclaimed. ‘Only let’s get out of here as fast as we can.’

She nodded, and I motioned for her to follow me.”

It was all a nightmare…

Dr. Hachiya and his wife make there way to the street. As the homes around them collapse, they realize they must move on, and begin their journey to the hospital a few hundred yards away.

“We started out, but after twenty or thirty steps I had to stop. My breath became short, my heart pounded, and my legs gave way under me. An overpowering thirst seized me and I begged Yaeko-san to find me some water. But there was no water to be found. After a little my strength somewhat returned and we were able to go on.

I was still naked, and although I did not feel the least bit of shame, I was disturbed to realize that modesty had deserted me. On rounding a corner we came upon a soldier standing idly in the street. He had a towel draped across his shoulder, and I asked if he would give it to me to cover my nakedness. The soldier surrendered the towel quite willingly but said not a word. A little later I lost the towel, and Yaeko-san took off her apron and tied it around my loins.

Our progress towards the hospital was interminably slow, until finally, my legs, stiff from drying blood, refused to carry me farther. The strength, even the will, to go on deserted me, so I told my wife, who was almost as badly hurt as I, to go on alone. This she objected to, but there was no choice. She had to go ahead and try to find someone to come back for me.

Yaeko-san looked into my face for a moment, and then, without saying a word, turned away and began running towards the hospital. Once, she looked back and waved and in a moment she was swallowed up in the gloom. It was quite dark now, and with my wife gone, a feeling of dreadful loneliness overcame me.

I must have gone out of my head lying there in the road because the next thing I recall was discovering that the clot on my thigh had been dislodged and blood was again spurting from the wound.

I pressed my hand to the bleeding area and after a while the bleeding stopped and I felt better

Could I go on?

I tried. It was all a nightmare – my wounds, the darkness, the road ahead. My movements were ever so slow; only my mind was running at top speed.

In time I came to an open space where the houses had been removed to make a fire lane. Through the dim light I could make out ahead of me the hazy outlines of the Communications Bureau’s big concrete building, and beyond it the hospital. My spirits rose because I knew that now someone would find me; and if I should die, at least my body would be found. I paused to rest. Gradually things around me came into focus. There were the shadowy forms of people, some of whom looked like walking ghosts. Others moved as though in pain, like scarecrows, their arms held out from their bodies with forearms and hands dangling. These people puzzled me until I suddenly realized that they had been burned and were holding their arms out to prevent the painful friction of raw surfaces rubbing together. A naked woman carrying a naked baby came into view. I averted my gaze. Perhaps they had been in the bath. But then I saw a naked man, and it occurred to me that, like myself, some strange thing had deprived them of their clothes. An old woman lay near me with an expression of suffering on her face; but she made no sound. Indeed, one thing was common to everyone I saw – complete silence.

All who could were moving in the direction of the hospital. I joined in the dismal parade when my strength was somewhat recovered, and at last reached the gates of the Communications Bureau.”

Dr. Michihiko Hachiya lived through that day and kept a diary of his experience. He served as Director of the Hiroshima Communications Hospital and lived near the hospital approximately a mile from the explosion’s epicenter. His diary was published in English in 1955

Inside Taiwanese Chip Giant, a U.S. Expansion Stokes Tensions – The New York Times

A lot of problem in USA:

John Liu and

John Liu and Paul Mozur, who are based in Seoul, interviewed dozens of semiconductor experts on the geopolitics of Taiwan’s chip making.

Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company, the world’s biggest maker of advanced computer chips, is upgrading and expanding a new factory in Arizona that promises to help move the United States toward a more self-reliant technological future.

But to some at the company, the $40 billion project is something else: a bad business decision.

Internal doubts are mounting at the Taiwanese chip maker over its U.S. factory, according to interviews with 11 TSMC employees, who declined to be identified because they were not authorized to speak publicly. Many of the workers said the project could distract from the research and development focus that had long helped TSMC outmaneuver rivals. Some added that they were hesitant to move to the United States because of potential culture clashes.

Their concerns underline TSMC’s tricky position. As the biggest maker of chips that power everything from phones to cars to missiles, the company is strategically important with highly coveted technical know-how. But caught in a deepening battle between the United States and China over technological leadership, TSMC has tried to hedge its bets — only to find that its actions are creating new kinds of tensions.

Its factory expansion in the northern outskirts of Phoenix is meant to bring advanced microchip production closer to the United States and away from any potential standoff with China. Yet the effort has stoked internal apprehension, with high costs and managerial challenges showing how difficult it is to transplant one of the most complicated manufacturing processes known to man halfway across the world….

Read more:

Article HERE

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*****TODAY IS THE DAY ****** (Allegedly)

2023 03 06 12 00
2023 03 06 12 00

***** TODAY is the day *****

If, as we reported earlier this week, Big Shot Officials are going into the “Hotel” (i.e. Bunkers), we ought to be able to see some signs.  In my original report (HERE) I revealed that a senior Aide to a `sitting US Senator for 25 years, was told earlier this week to pack bags and be ready to leave for “the Hotel” Sunday, March 5.   The phrase “the Hotel” is government-speak for the nuclear bunkers.

She was also told not to reveal anything to anyone except for close relatives to tell them she would be out of the loop for awhile.   The aide told her sister.   The sister told me.

Anyone near Green Briar in West Virginia? That is a Hotel where the US built underground nuclear Bunkers for the US Congress back in the 1950’s but it is allegedly decommissioned now.   Any significant helicopter traffic there?

We know Sen. Fetterman from PA was admitted to a “hospital” for . . . (ahem) “Depression” so he’s out of public eye.

We also know that Sen. Fetterman’s wife took the kids and left for CANADA!!!!! So they’re far away.

We know Sen. Feinstein was allegedly admitted to hospital for Shingles even though the only treatment is a prescription for Valacyclovir and being sent home, so SHE is out of the public eye.

We know Gov. DeWine of Ohio allegedly broke his leg in East Palestine and he’s out of the public eye.

Last Wednesday, Gov. Newsome of California left the state on “Personal travel” and hasn’t been heard from since. No idea where he is or when he’ll be back.

I was told last night that Newsome was sent to the DENVER AIRPORT Continuity of Government facility underground there, but I cannot verify that.

I was also told last night that all the other Governors are being sent to various facilities and they are NOT being told where the other Governors are. CANNOT verify that, either.

Either way, TODAY is the day a lot of these folks are supposed to be traveling, so do we have any info on any of it?

If they’re traveling today, my guess is the SHTF tomorrow.

Any info will help, guys!

The World’s Greatest Gallery Of Seductive Carrots

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This kind of high-quality relevant content is exactly the reason why Al Gore invented the internet. Scroll down to see the greatest collection of seductive carrots in the world!

h/t: sadanduseless

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Yes. China knows the crusaders are preparing for a preemptive strike. So they have setup nationwide defense mobilization office:

Article HERE

We all know that no one can enjoy peace with the bloody crusaders without the readiness to strike back.
.

Confessions Of A Man Who Cleans Porta-Potties For A Living

 

Is it as bad as it sounds? Not denigrating you, just it sounds like tough work.

Honestly not really. After awhile you kind of get used to it, it is a dirty job but I’m paid well.

How well?

I’m paid $18 an hour to basically drive around and do five minutes of work every 10 to 20 minutes or so. I get 40 hours a week over the winter and overtime in the summer, which can hit 20 plus hours a week.

In the winter time, how do you deal with frozen water and other temperature related problems?

In the winter time we run a brine solution in the blue stuff to prevent it from freezing usually keeps a liquid or until -12°F

How long have you been doing this job?

I’ve been doing the job for about two years and I’m 32 almost 33

So, how exactly does cleaning a porta pottie even go? And how long does it take?

I’m not sure about every company but my company prides itself on the cleanliness of its units.

First we suck out the tank. Then we apply the cleaning agent, which is an acid based cleaner. Next we scrub down all of the affected areas that are heavily soiled and then we rinse with clean water. Refill the hand sanitizer and the toilet paper, then we move on to the next one. The whole process on a bad day takes about 5 to 7 minutes per unit. On a good day about two and a half. It all depends on how much scrubbing with a brush you have to do

Do you wear full body suits? Protective masks and goggles?

No, none of that. We wear safety glasses and puncture resistant rubber gloves. It’s pretty much on the driver how much extra gear they want to wear.

Have you dealt with one that’s been tipped over? Is that just heinous?

It is really gross, not going to lie, but we are given the proper equipment to clean those units up. About two years ago, right after I started, we had one of the biggest wind storms we’ve had in my area and I spent 18 hours of my day with that order. I went through 450 gallons of water that day, on a normal day I go through 50.

Who makes the bigger mess, tailgating or festivals?

Neither. County parks are by far the worst toilets that I’ve ever had to clean. People poop in the urinals. Elementary schools also. Little fucking bratz throwing sticks and rocks and other bullshit into the tank.

What kind of stuff do you find?

There’s a lot of drug paraphernalia in units; needles, meth pipes, pot pipes, that kind of stuff.

Cell phones, if we find them in working condition we try to contact the owners via the contacts. If we can’t turn the device on we throw them away.

What’s the most expensive thing you ever fished out?

A functioning iPhone 10

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve found in a potty?

By far the weirdest thing I’ve ever found in a porta potty is literally a females and males entire outfits including shoes inside of the tank.

One of the guys that I work with found a “Great American Challenge” (an 18 inch 6 inch around silicone dildo,) in one of the toilets. We stuck it to the back of our bosses flatbed truck that he uses for hauling containers. We still don’t know if he found it before he left the yard, or if it fell off somewhere along the road.“

I’ve heard that there are always lots of undigested vitamins/pills at the bottom. Is that so?

By the time we usually get to them we clean them once a week there’s not really any solids left. In the healthy and wealthy areas, I see more of this kind of granular sludge that I think is attributed to taking a lot of pills or something similar.

Ever seen any poop graffiti?

Yes actually, more frequently than I’d like to.

I used a porta potty once and saw shit ABOVE THE RIM. Has this ever happened to one of your jobs? Why would it get this bad?

First off shooting above the rim of the toilet is actually more common than you’d think. I have no idea how it happens. It’s just there.

Have you ever cleaned a porta potty as part of an investigation?

No I have not but I have turned over things to the local authorities that were suspicious items in the toilets

Like what??

Usually anyting that’s suspect is pulled out of the unit and the customer contact that we have is notified unless it is more seemingly detrimental then we will contact the authorities

Knives, keys, identification cards, credit cards, wallets. I actually carry a box of gallon Ziploc bags with the double zippers in my truck just in case I find things like these. One of guys found a empty magazine in one of the toilets and turned it in. I don’t know if anything came of that, but hey it might have actually helped.

Have you ever become physically sick from your job? Like didn’t use enough protection one day and ended up with a stomach bug?

Aside from a slight cough from the cleaners we use on the toilet which are acid-based that usually clear up in 10-15 minutes, I’ve never actually gotten physically ill from doing the job. Sometimes the smell makes you wrech, but that’s about it.

How does one get a job like this? Do you need any certifications?

Depending on how big of a tank you have on your truck you have to have a tank endorsement otherwise just a DOT examiner card and a class d driver’s license

Are you employed or an independent contractor?

I am a full-time employee of one of the three largest companies in the state I’m in

What’s your diet like surely working 10 hours a day? Would be tough on yourself right?

I eat breakfast at home bowl of cereal eggs bacon that kind of stuff in the morning for lunch I stop and have a salad or maybe a burger depending on how warm it is that day and I have a great home-cooked meal things to my wife in the evenings every day actually I recently have lost almost 60 pounds just by changing my diet and getting rid of energy drinks and switching just a regular soda

Why not find a better job?

Honestly this is got to be the easiest job I’ve ever done with the least amount of manual labor. Not that I’m lazy, but I broke my back about 10 years ago in six places, so driving around and doing this is better than sitting at home on disability

You know what they say in the start of the dirty jobs intro “it’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

You know if it’s one thing that this job has taught me it’s to respect all of the service industry and the people that work in it because there are some jobs that I would hate to do and I’m just glad I don’t have to do that particular job and I fulfilled that same role not everybody wants to do it but they want the service, so I do it with a smile on my face and a kind heart.

EU-China Relations and the War in Ukraine: A Reappraisal

One year after Russia's invasion of Ukraine, Chinese scholars assess its impact on EU-China relations and take a look at the future.

Dear Everyone,

Last week, Sinification examined a piece by Zhang Jian that discussed the economic and political impact of the Russo-Ukrainian war on the EU.

Its assessment was particularly bleak (I have included a summary of his piece at the end of this post). EU-China relations were written all over Zhang’s analysis of European strategic autonomy but he refrained from discussing these ties in direct terms.

Today’s edition provides a brief rundown of four commentaries that complement Zhang’s piece well.

They were chosen on the basis of two relatively loose criteria: having been recently published (≤ 2-3 months); and providing a fairly comprehensive overview of the recent and future trends in EU-China relations and/or European strategic autonomy.

As one might expect, EU-China relations do not attract as many heavyweight scholars as the analysis of US-China relations does. What’s more, recent analyses by some of China’s more senior EU specialists have tended to remain fairly superficial.

I have nevertheless included those views that I did come across in the “key takeaways” section provided below. Much like Sinification’s coverage of the US-China spy balloon incident, I have proceeded by using bullet-point summaries of these articles rather than translations.

Your feedback on this new format was much appreciated last time and will be again today.

So if you find these summarised overviews helpful, please do let me know by liking this post, leaving a comment or by getting in touch with me as you did last time.

Similar overviews on different topics will follow if I sense that this is something that is both useful and enjoyable for everyone to read. Translations will of course remain the core focus of this newsletter.


Key takeaways:

  1. The war in Ukraine has hobbled the EU’s push for strategic autonomy, but its desire to pursue this goal remains.
  2. The war has increased the EU’s dependence on and tilt towards the US. This trend is largely expected to continue.
  3. The war has accelerated the EU’s shift of emphasis to “competitor” and “rival” in its triadic “partner-competitor-rival” positioning on China.
  4. Beijing’s stance in the Russo-Ukrainian war has been misunderstood and has contributed to Europe’s growing antagonism towards Beijing.
  5. The influence of pro-US (and China-sceptic) countries in central, eastern and northern Europe over EU decision-making has increased considerably over the past year. This is not good for EU-China relations.
  6. The EU is beset with economic, political and social problems and the situation continues only to get worse. This is detrimental to the EU’s pursuit of strategic autonomy.
  7. The bloc remains a key player in international relations but its strength and influence are declining when compared with other major powers, notably the US and China.
  8. Nevertheless, the EU is often seen as key to alleviating the diplomatic and economic pressure brought by the US on China.
  9. Areas of cooperation with Europe still exist: global governance, climate change and economic cooperation tend to be the most frequently cited.
  10. Past and upcoming visits to Beijing by European leaders signal that Europe still wants (or needs) to strengthen economic ties and engage with Beijing even if this means going against US wishes.
  11. The EU’s economy is in the doldrums. Deepening economic ties will continue to be one of the keys to fostering closer relations with the EU and its members states. But the pull of the Chinese market will not prevent the EU from reducing its dependence on China in certain areas. Nor will it prevent the EU’s continued “interference” in and around the Indo-Pacific.
  12. Transatlantic ties may have strengthened over the past year but rifts remain and could widen again in future. EU-US economic competition and European distrust of Washington should encourage the EU in its pursuit of strategic autonomy and prevent it from tilting too far towards the US (see also Xin Hua).
  13. France and Germany remain the two key “pragmatic” countries that China should continue to engage with, though they have less sway over the EU than they used to. France continues to be seen as the country most aligned with China’s hope for a more independent EU.
  14. Germany’s forthcoming China strategy will act as a bellwether of EU-China relations.
  15. Outlook for 2023: Uncertainty prevails. Assessments range from the pessimistic to the cautiously optimistic but adding a positive twist to such predictions is often de rigueur in China.

Opinion | To Save Our Economy, Ditch Taiwan – The New York Times

WITH a single bold act, President Obama could correct the country’s course, help assure his re-election, and preserve our children’s future.

He needs to redefine America’s mindset about national security away from the old defense mentality that American power derives predominantly from our military might, rather than from the strength, agility and competitiveness of our economy. He should make it clear that today American jobs and wealth matter more than military prowess.

As Adm. Mike Mullen, then chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, declared last year, “The most significant threat to our national security is our debt.”

There are dozens of initiatives President Obama could undertake to strengthen our economic security. Here is one: He should enter into closed-door negotiations with Chinese leaders to write off the $1.14 trillion of American debt currently held by China in exchange for a deal to end American military assistance and arms sales to Taiwan and terminate the current United States-Taiwan defense arrangement by 2015.

Article HERE

Indonesian Pork Skewers

2023 03 07 14 58
2023 03 07 14 58

Ingredients

  • 1/4 cup vinegar
  • 1/4 cup prepared mustard
  • 1/4 cup light molasses
  • 2 tablespoons ginger preserves or orange marmalade
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1 (1 1/2 pound) lean boneless pork, cut into 1-inch cubes
  • 1/2 medium pineapple, halved lengthwise, cored and cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
  • 1 medium red sweet pepper, cut into strips

Instructions

  1. Combine the vinegar, mustard, molasses, ginger preserves and ginger in a small mixing bowl.
  2. Alternately thread the pork cubes, pineapple slices and pepper strips on 12 (6-inch) metal skewers, leaving about 1/4 inch between pieces.
  3. Brush with the molasses mixture.
  4. Grill the kabobs on the rack of an uncovered grill directly over medium-hot coals about 12 minutes or until no pink remains and juices run clear, turning and brushing with molasses mixture after 6 minutes.
  5. Heat the remaining molasses mixture and pass with the kabobs.

Fears of Eros, Dreams of Thanatos: Sensual Illustrations by Alex Varenne

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001 LsxR3fMWgk0 768×966 1

Alex Varenne (29 August 1939 – 19 October 2020) is a French comic book artist, master of erotic drawing and plastic arts. Unfortunately, Varenne has been dead for two years, but his legacy lives on – the Frenchman’s illustrations and comics are so gentle and powerful that they can without exaggeration be included in the list of European cultural classics.

Slightly NSFW.

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Alex VARENNE 1939 2020 1622193341 6793

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The most amazing part about cats is that humans are literally the only other species that they fully acknowledge and communicate with. Cats speak to us. They look us in the eye. They speak to no other species except for the occasional bird and mouse chatter or meowing at a familiar dog, and hissing at strangers. The friendly chatter and meow, meowing back at us while looking at us, everything that we hear from our cats is directed solely at us, no one else. Not to the other cats, not to the dog, but only for us, and that’s pretty amazing if you think about it.

Confessions of a Man Who Just Found Out His 15-Year-Old Daughter Isn’t His Child

 

I just found out my 15 years old daughter is not my biological child.

My daughter was preparing for a family tree project for an online class and wanted an ancestry test.

My father is half Native American but he died several years ago and I don’t know precisely what Native American blood is in the family.

My daughter came to me because it was my father and we didn’t mention it to her mother at the time. Well it turned out my daughter doesn’t have any Native American blood.

The obvious conclusion didn’t occur to me at first because the truth of the situation didn’t seem possible. I assumed there was a mistake, my first thought was that my father hadn’t been part Native American.

After our ancestry tests were different due to her lack of Native American blood we got proper DNA tests and everything became apparent.

It was a very emotional situation for me and my daughter. What I will remember the most was after she started crying she hugged so tightly and just kept saying over and over “I love you daddy.”

At home I confronted my wife and she looked like she’d had a stroke. She started crying and apologizing, you can probably imagine it.

My wife and I got married BECAUSE she was pregnant. We had been together for more than a year when it happened.

It turns out she was sleeping with multiple guys at the time. She says it didn’t mean anything and she doesn’t even remember some of their names.

When she realized she was pregnant she said she she wasn’t sure who he father was. Since I was unaware of her extracurricular activities, she let me believe I was the father because I was the most financially stable.

In terms of that she may have chose correctly, I have been very successful in my career and building passive income streams has been a hobby of mine for a long time.

My daughter got my wife to admit to this on tape as my daughter records the whole thing.

I asked my wife several times, and she keeps insisting that she has been faithful for the entire time we have been married. I’ve never suspected anything but I also didn’t realize she was sleeping around before we got married so I’ve said I don’t believe her.

I’ve come across a lot of the ‘red flags’ of cheaters and I can’t think of any of them during our marriage.

She doesn’t use social media and she has never been guarded about her phone.

She only drinks on special occasions and doesn’t go out for girls night or anything. Also she is a stay at home wife/mom so here aren’t any coworkers to worry about.

She exercises at home as we have a very nice home gym. I don’t believe her when she says she hasn’t cheated after getting married but I can’t think of anything suspicious.

We have a pre nup so I’m not worried about divorce if It comes to that

My daughter is another story. She is absolutely livid about the whole situation.

I know teenagers can be emotional, I certainly remember how I was at her age. But she has never been very expressive, something I thought she or from me (nature vs nurture?) my daughter can’t stand to be around her mother.

She has said some truly awful things to her mother. Basically variations of calling her a dirty sl@t who ruined our family.

Whenever my wife tries to talk to her, my daughter yells and swears and cries like I have never seen.

My daughter has even come to me privately saying that in the event of divorce she wants to stay with me.

I have made it clear in no uncertain terms that she is my daughter and I am her father regardless of the situation.

I’ve reiterated to her repeatedly that she can stay with me and I will never leave her.

She has even asked if it is possible to disown her mother and be adopted by me. I haven’t told this to my wife.

I need some time to process this. I think I’m writing this as a way to just come to terms with everything that has happened.

Chicken and Pork Adobo

2023 03 07 14 56
2023 03 07 14 56

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 3 pounds boneless chicken, cut into 2-inch pieces
  • 1 pound pork or beef, cut into 2-inch pieces
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 small onion, sliced
  • 1/2 cup rice vinegar
  • 1/4 cup soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar (optional)
  • Hot steamed rice

Instructions

  1. Add oil to saucepan and heat on medium heat.
  2. Add chicken, pork, bay leaves and garlic. Sauté about 5 minutes or until chicken and pork are light brown.
  3. Drain off excess oil.
  4. Add black pepper, onion, vinegar, soy sauce and brown sugar; cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes.
  5. Stir meat to cook evenly in the sauce.
  6. Serve with hot steamed rice.

 

Dancing and Enchiladas

What are your thoughts?

2023 02 01 16 40
2023 02 01 16 40

2023 02 01 16 4fd0
2023 02 01 16 4fd0

2023 02 01 16 41
2023 02 01 16 41

2023 02 01 16 4f1
2023 02 01 16 4f1

And now you know.


Have a great day. Today’s postings…

One of the best Australian movies ever made.

January 29, 2023

Something worse than anything seen even amidst the dark years of the Cold War has awoken, Matthew Ehret writes.

It feels like today’s world is spinning quickly out of control.

Fear of nuclear confrontation between Russia and NATO has increased to a fever pitch and something worse than anything seen even amidst the dark years of the Cold War has awoken.

A strange form of insanity has swept across the collective west as the US Congress infuses billions of dollars of more lethal aid to a regime in Kiev which a smiling Senator Lindsey Graham has said Kiev “will fight Russia to the last Ukrainian”.

This is the same American Congress which unabashedly fuels Nazi-infested military units in Ukraine, and ISIS-affiliated groups in Syria and Iraq who additionally chose to declare Russia a “state sponsor of terrorism” with the senate voting unanimously to this effect on July 27, and the House of Representatives following close behind with a resolution that has vast bipartisan support of both parties.

Meanwhile in Brussels, and across the Five Eyes, pressure mounts to ban Russia’s president from the G20, while a glorification of Nazi “heroes” accelerates across the many nations of the former Soviet Union including Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania etc… all of whom having been absorbed into NATO during the past two decades.

Talk of nuclear Armageddon has become commonplace, and it appears that no effort to heal the divide between east and west is considered by any of the neo-liberal politicians occupying positions of authority

What is going on? Has the world gone insane?

Why have leading figures of the “free and democratic” west become so blind to even their own strategic interests to the point that they would voluntarily risk spreading thermonuclear fire across the globe rather than end the policy of “global NATO” and international unipolarism?

This man-made crisis- like all man made crises, has solutions.

But these solutions require that both sides Russian and American alike, properly identify the nature of those agencies pushing the world to the brink of extermination.

For it is only by doing this, that we may properly appreciate the potential of restoring the USA itself back to its constitutional traditions while at the same time establishing a basis of a genuine new security architecture so desperately needed if the world will survive the remaining decades of the 21st century.

Understanding the pathway needed to navigating through the current storm requires revisiting a bit of recent history starting with the collapse of the soviet union and the three pregnant moments which nearly saw humanity embrace a new epoch of win-win cooperation driven by a US-Russian strategic alliance.

1988-1992: The first attempt at an age of multipolar cooperation is subverted

By 1988, it was becoming increasingly clear that the system of mutually assured destruction was coming to an end.

The rigid economic systems of the Soviet bloc had been incapable of introducing the needed technological innovations to the general civilian economy which would have been needed to avoid a general breakdown.

Everyone knows of the dark days of Perestroika and the western-directed looting of the 1990s…

but few are aware of the ripe potential for a new age of cooperation and abundance driven by forces within the American intelligentsia and their Russian counterparts who saw in this crisis, an opportunity to turn swords into plowshares.

These figures sought to build a new architecture based on mutual development, trust building measures and scientific progress.

Backchannel discussions had been arranged for several years with leading figures of the new Gorbachev administration and their American counterparts within the Reagan administration and even the industrial leaders of Germany led by Deutsche Bank Chairman Alfred Herrhausen. These anti-Malthusian statesmen may not have fully appreciated the evil forces they were challenging, but they none the less worked hard to end the Cold War not by crushing Russia into oblivion, but in providing a new synergy of industrial and scientific cooperation between east and west.

The story of these plans and possibility for an age of cooperation premised on large-scale industrial progress is told both in the recent autobiography of American University in Moscow’s Dr. Edward Lozansky as well as in the 2008 Schiller Institute documentary The Lost Chance of 1989.

These figures worked hard to present development plans which involved billions of dollars of promised investments into the modernization of all sectors of the Soviet economy premised around large scale infrastructure, and industrial growth.

Despite the many promises of east-west cooperation, the 1990s instead saw a bloodied Russia swimming with sharks.

Figures like Strobe Talbott, and Jeffrey Sachs were assigned the task of breaking the Russian government and its people economically, psychologically and morally under a program of Shock Therapy overseen by the worst elements of the IMF, City of London and Washington utopians.

Even basic security guarantees were abandoned as the promises made by then Secretary of State James Baker to “not move NATO one inch beyond its 1992 configuration” were increasingly abandoned, as NATO transformed from a Cold War defensive alliance to an aspiring new global offensive structure absorbing as many former Soviet Nations it could acquire.

Instead of cooperation, speeches calling for a New World Order and “end of history” became part of the western political discourse

Even then Senator Joe Biden was quick to get into the action writing such 1992 tracts as “How I learned love the New World Order

For those nations resistant to this New World Order, Balkanization and bombs were swiftly deployed to shake them into “correct behavior”

Behind the illusion of America’s victory over communism, a rot could be felt growing ever faster as the post-industrial policies of the 1970s and 1980s were transforming America’s once powerful industrial base into a useless services economy with no sovereign capacity to stand on its own feet, produce for itself or even maintain basic infrastructure.

Poverty, drug use and crime increased under Clinton while a wealth transfer was taking hold that saw America’s dwindling small and medium sized entrepreneurs wiped out under new behemoth corporations who enjoyed free reign to gobble up everything they could acquire under the financial deregulation bonanza of the North American Free Trade Agreement and Europe’s Maastricht Treaty. In both treaties, former zones of sovereign nations were stripped of their power to legally emit productive credit, use protectionism to defend their interests, or control their own national banking systems. Where sovereignty over these vital powers was once legally the prerogative of the nation, after NAFTA and Maastricht, supranational entities now enjoyed this privilege.

Within this decay on all sides of the former Iron Curtin, two new leaders came to power.

With their ascension in 1999 and 2000, it was hoped that Vladimir Putin and George Bush Jr might be able to restore a measure of sanity after a decade of betrayal.

1999-2001: The second attempt at an age of multipolar cooperation is subverted

By the year 2000, hopes were again high that the dismal decay of US-Russian relations could be healed as a young trouble shooter named Vladimir Putin was brought into play in Moscow replacing the alcoholic trainwreck that was Boris Yeltsin.

The defeat of Al Gore (whose deep relationship with Russian traitors such as Chernomyrdin and Chubais left him with no shortage of Russian blood on his hands) awoke a weary optimism among patriots in both nations.

Within the USA, over 100 elected representatives endorsed a call led by republican congressman Curt Weldon of Pennsylvania who commissioned a report titled “US-Russia Partnership: A Time for New Beginnings“.

In this influential document published in early 2001, a coherent vision not seen in over a decade was presented that called for a new paradigm touching on every aspect of US-Russian relations.

Cultural diplomacy, the teaching of Russian in American schools, Agricultural assistance, full spectrum energy development, space exploration, defense cooperation, asteroid defense, and fusion research all figured prominently in Representative Weldon’s dossier.

The sensitivity to the existential moment not being lost to history can be seen in the report’s opening remarks:

America and Russia must forge an alliance beneficial to both, or face the near certainty that

historical suspicions will reassert themselves and plunge the world into a new Cold War. Such an eventuality would be especially tragic since the United States and Russia have more in common than not. Indeed, given that the gravest and most imminent threats to both nations are terrorism and WMD proliferation, these great common enemies should make the United States and Russia natural allies.

The Cold War era model of bilateral relations and arms control is predicated on mutual antagonism and nuclear threats: a situation that is unacceptable as the basis for 21st Century U.S.- Russian relations. Russia and the United States each have unique security concerns, but have more security concerns that are shared in common. U.S. policy should encourage Russia to recognize the  advantages of U.S.-Russian cooperation in areas like counter-terrorism, non-proliferation and missile defense… The key to forging a U.S.-Russian alliance is to do it now, before U.S.-Russian relations deteriorate further. The United States must offer Russia a relationship that clearly benefits Russian as well as U.S. interests, and begin as soon as possible, working jointly toward mutually beneficial goals.”

It was this spirit of goodwill within the leading strata of American policy makers that Vladimir Putin spoke towards when he made his intention for Russia’s participation in NATO known to the west.

Of course, Putin was not ignorant to the dangers NATO posed under the influence of unipolarists like Gore, Soros, Nuland et al, but as long as figures who thought differently exercised power among western nations, then Russia’s intelligentsia presumed it to be an organization whose destructive orientation could be neutralized.

It was for this reason that Putin’s early appearances in the USA during this period alongside President Bush demonstrated the optimism that a sane foreign policy might be adopted.

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me29012301

 

Sadly, another darker current within the US governing class was emerging with the incoming Bush Administration which had a very different view of things.

This group not only carried on the worst elements of the Clinton-Gore-Talbott Russia policy of the 1990s but added an obsessive militaristic drive for global supremacy with a Pax American flavor not seen in the previous regime.

Figures like Strobe Talbott’s assistant Victoria Nuland went on to find new employment as Dick Cheney’s assistant and soon US Ambassador to NATO where she oversaw the military bloc’s vast expansion from 16 to 24 nations by 2008.

Under Nuland’s lead, Georgia and Ukraine’s aspirations to join the alliance is welcomed officially by NATO.

Nuland also worked closely with the CIA front group National Endowment for Democracy and George Soros in setting the stage for a new era of regime change operations in the form of color revolutions in Georgia (2003), Ukraine (2004) and scorched earth humanitarian bombing of nations back to the stone age across the Middle East in the wake of 9/11.

Nuland’s husband Robert Kagan was an early co-founder of the Project for a New American Century- a neoconservative think tank which produced such dystopic policy visions for the 21st century as the September 2000 Rebuilding America’s Defenses which saw both Russia and China, not as potential allies, but as intrinsic enemies to be destroyed if the planned global hegemony of the USA was to be ensured.

In total opposition to the positive spirit of win-win cooperation envisioned by Representative Curt Weldon and company, the unipolarist networks outlined in the PNAC RAD document envisioned a much more dystopic world order of Hobbesian struggle of each against all when they envisioned the wars of the future saying:

“Although it may take several decades for the process of transformation to unfold… “combat” likely will take place in new dimensions: in space, “cyber-space,” and perhaps the world of microbes. Air warfare may no longer be fought by pilots manning tactical fighter aircraft sweeping the skies of opposing fighters, but a regime dominated by long-range, stealthy unmanned craft… Space itself will become a theater of war, as nations gain access to space capabilities and come to rely on them; further, the distinction between military and commercial space systems – combatants and noncombatants – will become blurred. Information systems will become an important focus of attack, particularly for U.S. enemies seeking to short-circuit sophisticated American forces. And advanced forms of biological warfare that can “target” specific genotypes may transform biological warfare from the realm of terror to a politically useful tool.”

The thinking of grand strategist Zbigniew Brzezinski was visceral in the pulse of ideologues like Kagan, Nuland and other neocons like Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle, John Bolton, Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney who ran the malleable Bush Jr presidency.

It was former National Security Advisor Brzezinski who outlined the needed carving up of Russia in his 1997 Grand Chessboard under Washington diktat could also be smelled across the pages of the PNAC white papers.

In his 1997 book, Brzezinski wrote:

Potentially, the most dangerous scenario would be a grand coalition of China, Russia, and perhaps Iran, an ‘anti-hegemonic’ coalition united not by ideology but by complementary grievances.”

Brzezinski added: “How the United States both manipulates and accommodates the principal geostrategic players on the Eurasian chessboard and how it manages Eurasia’s key geopolitical pivots will be critical to the longevity and stability of America’s global primacy.”

Unfortunately for the world, the policy doctrine which was adopted by George Bush was not that of the better American patriots surrounding Curt Weldon, but rather this hive of unipolarists who sought to do everything possible to ensure that the world would remain as divided and suppressed as possible while a new Pax Americana could consolidate its possessions under a program of Full Spectrum Dominance.

It was this group that ensured the USA would soon quit the Anti Ballistic Missile Treaty which Bush announced in December 13, 2001.

The 1972 ABM Treaty had ensured that both Russian and American militaries cease deploying, testing and developing sea, air, space and mobile land based anti-missile systems for intercepting strategic ballistic missiles.

The USA’s withdrawal from this treaty made the increased danger of the ballistic missile shield built up around Russia (and China’s) perimeters an unbearable existential threat, and a new arms race between offensive and defensive systems was launched.

A day after the USA officially left the ABM Treaty, Russia announced its withdrawal from the START II Treaty which would have not only banned the use of multiple warheads on ICBMS but also vastly reduced the total number of warheads.

It wasn’t long before President Putin called out this threat during his famous 2007 Munich Security speech which laid out not only Russia’s understanding of the true intentions underlying the offensive properties of the Ballistic Missile systems built up across her borders, but also set firm red lines regarding NATO’s continued encroachment on Russia.

2016-2020: The Third attempt at an age of multipolar cooperation is subverted

Between 2007-2016 the western unipolarists had doubled down on Full Spectrum Dominance despite the fact that the contours of world politics had drastically changed with the new Russian-Chinese alliance that had become a bedrock of the success of Eurasian integration.

Other nations had been swept into hell under a western-manipulated Arab Spring followed by the 2011 humanitarian bombing of Libya and the targeting of Syria for similar “nation building” treatment.

In the Pacific, the Clinton-Obama Asia Pivot had accelerated US military commitment across China’s perimeter with THAAD Missiles in South Korea and 100,000 troops spread across western-manipulated Asian governments.

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Under Biden and Victoria Nuland’s lead, Ukraine was lit on fire as a pro-Russian government of Viktor Yanukovych was overturned in a 2nd color revolution and a regime chosen by the US State Department was installed in power.

Amidst this world of darkness, a light was beginning to shine as China announced the Belt and Road Initiative as its new foreign policy in October 2013, which soon began merging with Russia’s Eurasian Economic Union.

In 2015, Russia was sufficiently strong to launch into a new foreign policy doctrine in Syria which prevented another regime change project from lighting the heartland on fire.

By 2016, things were looking bleak for the world as all public opinion polls in America were forecasting certain victory for Hillary Clinton as the 45th President of the United States.

But something changed.

The upset victory of Donald Trump did more than merely derail the continuation of neocon agenda which had found a new home in the worst elements of the Democratic Party of Obama and Clinton, but a new potential for rebuilding US-Russian relations was beginning to be felt as the new president called for good relations with Russia and China while also pushing for ending the “never ending wars” and re-calibrating American military activity in Syria with the Russians.

Throughout the 2016-2020 presidency of Trump, a full assault was launched to undo the vote of the majority of American citizens through gaslighting, “Russiagate” propaganda, and vast media witchhunts which attempted to paint Trump as “a Kremlin stooge”.

Despite this, Trump was able to fend off impeachment attempts, and managed a variety of reforms that entailed cutting NED funding in Ukraine, Hong Kong and beyond, severing vital components of the CIA from conventional military operations, harmonized US miliary operations with Russia in Syria, and drove a vast program of diplomatic bridge building across the middle east with the Abraham Accords, and in Asia where Trump brokered meetings with South and North Korean leaders. This bridge building was most important in regards to the leadership of Russia and China.

It was in April 2019, that President Trump appeared at the White House alongside Chinese Vice Premier Liu He and said:

“Between Russia, China and us, we’re all making hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of weapons, including nuclear, which is ridiculous. I think it’s much better if we all got together and didn’t make these weapons those three countries I think can come together and stop the spending and spend on things that are more productive toward long-term peace.”

Although deep state operations active within the US State Department worked tirelessly to sabotage these positive initiatives, and although neo con swamp creatures like John Bolton, and Mike Pompeo continued to surround Trump’s inner circle like vipers, it would be foolish to ignore these positive, albeit short lived initiatives to revive the missed chances of 1990 and 2000.

Will “The Other America” Please Stand Up?

Two years after the installation of Biden into the White House, the world has slid once again towards an existential cliff of confrontation not only with Russia over the events in Ukraine but increasingly China with the build up of a new NATO-of the Pacific which some have come to dub the “Quad”.

Where a post-NED color revolution Ukraine was used as a flashpoint for this antagonistic program against Russia, a post-NED color revolution in Taiwan (under the 2014 Sunflower Revolution) was used to turn this Pacific island province of China into a new potential flashpoint of war in the Pacific.

With 140+ countries joining onto the Belt and Road Initiative, and an increasing list of nations waiting to join the BRICS+ and Shanghai Cooperation Alliance, it is becoming increasingly clear that the nightmare of Zbigniew Brzezinski of a Russia-China-Iran led new Eurasian Alliance is threatening to forever upset the unipolar paradigm.

President Putin made such a point clear in a recent speech calling out the end of the unipolar system

The American population know that they do not benefit from the proxy war in Ukraine, and according to recent polls, the situation of Ukraine doesn’t even make the top 10 concerns for most Americans who care more for increased gas, food and rent prices over the geopolitical ambitions of detached neocons.

Additionally, polls by Rasmussen demonstrate that nearly 70% of Americans strongly believe America to be heading down the wrong track and approval of both the president and congress has hit historic lows.

The previous three attempts to overthrow the unipolarist ideologues and establish a sustainable foundation of US-Russian cooperation were made possible not only through well positioned politicians but a network of well organized, informed and engaged American citizens who understood how to think about the direction their nation was headed.

If today’s world is to avoid the consequence of the insane policies of Global NATO which can lead only towards thermonuclear war, then it will be thanks to the important factor of this “other America” whose time, energy and sacrifice may make all the difference between a new dark age or new age of cooperation.

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2023 02 01 16 36

Tex-Mex Enchiladas 2

How to make Enchiladas YT 3
How to make Enchiladas YT 3

Ingredients

  • 1 tablespoon shortening
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons flour
  • 1 tablespoon red chili powder (or more)
  • 1 1/2 cups warm water
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 6 corn tortillas
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 2 cups grated Longhorn cheese

Instructions

  1. Melt shortening in a heavy skillet. Stir in flour and make a roux.
  2. Add chili powder and water; stir and cook until the gravy is thick. Keep warm while preparing the tortillas.
  3. Heat oven to 450 degrees F. Lightly grease an ovenproof casserole dish.
  4. Heat oil in a skillet and lightly fry each tortilla for about 5 seconds on each side. Do not overcook or they will get rubbery. Drain on paper towels.
  5. Dip each tortilla into the gravy, put some of the onion and cheese on the tortilla, roll it up, and place it, seam side down, in a casserole dish.
  6. Repeat until all 6 tortillas have been rolled.
  7. Pour the chili gravy over the tortillas, top with more cheese, and bake for about 10 minutes.

Yield: 2 servings

To The Vanishing Point: The Obscure Broken Worlds Of Artist Sergey Kolesov

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Sergey Kolesov aka Peleng is from the city of Ivanovo, Russia. He uses the fantasy style creating his pictures. Basically he draws kind of horror pictures, a bit scary, but cool and rather dramatic… well, some of them are more scary, than cool.

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Very interesting.

Tex-Mex Chops

A very tasty and easy five-ingredient recipe for Tex-Mex Chops.

2023 01 25 09 11
2023 01 25 09 11

Ingredients

  • 4 pork chops, pork steaks or stuffed pork chops
  • 1 1/2 cups salsa, chunky style
  • 1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in nonstick pan over medium-high heat. Brown chops on one side, about 2 minutes.
  2. Turn chops. Add salsa, chiles and cumin to skillet; mix well. Lower heat, cover and barely simmer for 6 minutes until internal temperature on a thermometer reads 145 degrees F.
  3. Uncover; top each chop with 1 tablespoon cheese. Cover and simmer an additional 1 to 2 minutes, until cheese melts.
  4. Allow to rest for 3 minutes before serving.

Servings: 4 | Prep: 5 min | Cook: 15 min

Advice From Cats On How To Survive The Holidays

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The holidays can be quite stressful—between buying gifts, coping with family, attending various functions, and realizing that mixing Jagermeister and egg nog together to make “Jag Nog” was a bad idea, it can get a bit overwhelming. Fortunately, the felines behind You Need More Sleep: Advice from Cats are here to give you all the tips you need to enjoy a joyful, peaceful, and—most importantly—restful season.

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Weapons carried by the US Bradley fighting vehicles use depleted uranium. Russia considers their use the same as detonating a nuclear bomb

In the 1980’s, newly married and laid off during the collapse of the American steel industry, my wife and I were living in a van and traveling to find work. This was after I left the Navy, and I was off in my period that I refer to as “lost in the wilderness”.

We left Pennsylvania and were on our way to California. It was Winter time, so we took a long circumambulating route though the Deep Southern states.

We were broken down, and waiting on a paycheck in the mail (that the manager was taking a long time to deal with) and just slowly starving in a broken down van sitting at the side of a rural road in Alabama.

When the police came over to investigate, we (my wife and I) were eating some old onions (that we found in the compost pile behind a house) with packets of yellow mustard that we got from the Rax fast food restaurant chain. We were eating it like you would eat an apple, and both of us were really thin. The police gave us five dollars for gas to get out of town and they escorted us to the next town, and deposited us at a private home for wayward souls, and they helped us get on our feet.

But, you know, I will never forget the look on the officer’s face when he peered inside and watched us eat old rotten onions with mustard.

Global Smartphone Shipments Plunge Most On Record

A new report via Massachusetts-based International Data Corporation (IDC) revealed worldwide smartphone shipments experienced the most significant quarterly drop on record over the holiday season as cooling consumer demand suggests trouble for smartphone manufacturers ahead of earnings releases.

Fourth-quarter global smartphone shipments plunged 18.3% year over year to 300.3 million units.

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2023 01 26 08 48 52

The decline was the largest on record for one quarter and contributed to an annual reduction of 11.3%. 1.21 billion smartphones were shipped for the year, the lowest yearly total since 2013.

Russian Navy Ship Conducts SIMULATED Hypersonic Missile Launch off U.S. East Coast – Electronic Warfare JAMMED U.S. Radar, Phones, Internet for 34 seconds

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2023 01 27 12 04
2023 01 27 12 04

A Russian Navy ship in the Atlantic Ocean near Bermuda, conducted a simulated launch of a ZIRCON Hypersonic Missile against a “nautical target 900km away.” The Simulated launch involved the use of Electronic Warfare that actually JAMMED U.S. radar, cellular phones in the Mid-Atlantic USA, and even disrupted digital internet traffic for 34 seconds!

The Russian Navy Frigate “Admiral Gorshkov” tested the strike capabilities of Russia’s much-hyped Zircon hypersonic missile in the western Atlantic Ocean.

People in the mid-Atlantic region of the US experienced electronic warfare jamming of civilian devices like cellular phones and Internet for 34 seconds.

One source reports via COVERT INTEL “In accordance with the training situation, the frigate practiced arranging a ZIRCON hypersonic missile strike against a maritime target at a distance over 900 kilometers away.”

The 2023 Military Strength Ranking

The 2023 Military Strength Ranking by Globalfirepower.com shows that the United States, Russia, and China have remained the world’s top military powers with China continuing its climb to the No.2 spot.

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inf116 armies 01 scaled 1

Best Ever Biscuits

Best Ever Biscuits
Best Ever Biscuits

Yield: 10 to 12 biscuits

Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup shortening or butter
  • 2/3 cup milk

Instructions

  1. In medium mixing bowl stir together flour, baking powder, sugar, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix well to distribute the baking powder and the salt.
  2. Using a pastry blender or fork, cut shortening into flour mixture until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. If you use butter, be sure it is chilled. (Mixing by hand softens the shortening, making the dough sticky and hard to handle.)
  3. Gently push the flour-shortening mixture against the sides of the bowl, making a well in the center. Pour the milk into the well all at once. Using a fork, stir just until the mixture follows the fork around the bowl and forms soft dough.
  4. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead gently 10 to 12 strokes.
  5. On the lightly floured surface, pat the dough to 1/2-inch thickness (or roll it out with a lightly floured rolling pin, if desired). Sprinkle a little flour over dough.
  6. Cut biscuit dough with a 2 1/2-inch round biscuit cutter, pressing the cutter straight down. Be careful not to twist the cutter or flatten the cut biscuit edges or you won’t get straight-sided, evenly shaped biscuits. Dip the cutter into flour between cuts to prevent sticking. If you do not have a biscuit cutter, use a straight-sided glass. Or, pat the dough into a 1/2-inch thick rectangle and cut into squares or triangles using a sharp knife.
  7. Using a metal spatula, carefully transfer the cut biscuits to an ungreased baking sheet. For crusty-sided biscuits, place about 1 inch apart. For soft-sided biscuits, place biscuits close together in an ungreased baking pan.
  8. Re-roll scraps of dough and cut into biscuit shapes. Try to cut out as many biscuits as possible from a single rolling of dough. Too many re-rollings of the dough causes biscuits to be tough and dry.
  9. Bake biscuits in 450 degrees F oven for 10 to 12 minutes or until biscuits are golden on the top and the bottom.
  10. Serve warm.

Ural Motorcycles: Break Out

Routine, boredom, office slavery and chains of marriage – this is not about people who ride bikes. Ural motorcycle sets you free. It helps you get away from all this, and gives you absolute freedom.

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Utah Plastic Surgeon Allegedly Destroyed COVID Vaccines, Gave Fake Shots To Children

by Tyler Durden
Friday, Jan 27, 2023 – 07:50 AM

Authored by Jana J. Pruet via The Epoch Times (emphasis ours),

A Utah plastic surgeon, along with three others, is facing charges for allegedly administering fake COVID-19 vaccines to children, destroying vaccines, and distributing falsified vaccine cards.

Dr. Michael Kirk Moore, the owner of the Plastic Surgery Institute of Utah in Midvale, has been charged with conspiracy to defraud the United States and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), according to court documents (pdf).

Moore’s office manager Kari Burgoyne, receptionist Sandra Flores, neighbor Kristin Andersen, and the Plastic Surgery Institute are also charged in the case.

The defendants are accused of running a vaccine scheme out of the physician’s business.

Moore and Andersen were allegedly members of a “private organization seeking to ‘liberate’ the medical profession from government and industry conflicts of interest,” the documents state.

In May 2021, Moore signed an agreement with the CDC to administer COVID-19 vaccines and vaccination cards. Court documents claim that Moore and Burgoyne then ordered “hundreds of doses of COVID-19 vaccines,” which they began receiving at the plastic surgery center in October 2021.

Working the Plan

After receiving the vaccine doses, the doctor and three others started notifying “fraudulent vax card seekers” that they could “receive fraudulently completed COVID-19 Vaccination Record Cards from the Plastic Surgery Institute without having to receive a COVID-19 vaccine,” the documents state.

Those seeking fraudulent vaccination cards were required to pay $50 cash or make a $50 donation to Moore and Andersen’s private organization.

Burgoyne allegedly managed the “day-to-day logistics of the scheme,” while Andersen handled the screening process. Once a person was successfully screened and had made their $50 payment, Andersen would send them forms to complete.

“Flores and other employees would then provide the Fraudulent Vax Card Seekers with the completed COVID-19 Vaccine Record Cards without administering any COVID-19 vaccine to them,” the document reads.

The group also gave fake vaccines to children when requested by the minors’ parents.

“Dr. Moore, Burgoyne, and Flores also arranged, at times, to administer or have others administer saline shots to minor children at the request of their parents so that the minor children would think they were actually receiving a COVID-19 vaccine,” according to the document.

The names of the fraudulent vaccination card seekers were uploaded to the Utah Statewide Immunization Information System.

Between Oct. 15, 2021, and Sept. 6, 2022, the Plastic Surgery Institute allegedly received about 2,200 doses of the vaccine and destroyed nearly 2,000 of them at a value of more than $28,000. The doses were destroyed “usually by drawing them from the bottle and then squirting them down the drain from a syringe.”

At least 1,937 fraudulent vaccination cards were allegedly sold at $50 each for a total of $96,850. The vaccination cards and the vaccine doses amounted to a combined value of nearly $125,000.

Undercover Agents

The scheme fell apart when an undercover agent managed to complete the “referral only” process and acquire a fake vaccination card.

A second agent went through the process and then asked Flores if his children could also receive a similar vaccine record card.

Flores “wrote on a Post-it note that ‘with 18 & younger, we do a saline shot,’ indicating that minors could receive saline shots and obtain the cards without receiving the vaccine,” the court papers say.

12,000-Year-Old Lost City Off New Orleans Coast or Imagination Gone Wild?

A self-proclaimed amateur archaeologist professes that mysterious granite stones found over the years by fishermen near the uninhabited Chandeleur Islands, located 50 miles east of New Orleans in the United States, are actually architectural artifacts from a 12,000-year-old lost city. Having visited the site 44 times, George Gelé, a retired architect, is convinced that he has found the remains of a submerged city predating the ancient Inca, Maya and Aztec civilizations of the Americas.

Even more startlingly, he claims that there is a pyramid in the granite city, which he has named “Crescentis”, that is related to the Great Pyramid at Giza ! The oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World , the Great Pyramid is located in Greater Cairo in Egypt. “What’s down there are hundreds of buildings that are covered with sand and silt and that are geographically related to the Great Pyramid at Giza. Somebody floated a billion stones down the Mississippi River and assembled them outside what would later become New Orleans ,” Gelé told CBS affiliate WWL-TV.

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George 3

George Gelé claims that the lost city located off Chandeleur Islands is related to the Great Pyramid of Giza, seen here. ( merydolla / Adobe Stock)

The Building Blocks of the Lost City of “Crescentis”

So what exactly has Gelé built his theory of a lost city on? While its foundations may be weak, the building stones are solid enough. Local fishermen have for years been talking about netting strange square rocks near the Chandeleur Islands. Granite in the area is certainly something that requires explanation, given that it isn’t found naturally in Louisiana or Mississippi, reports the Sun.

Gelé, who has taken 44 trips to the site over nearly 50 years, has produced underwater sonar images of what he is convinced are discernible ruins of major buildings. These, he claims, include a large pyramid. “All I know is somebody built a city 12,000 years ago and it’s stuck out in Chandeleur. Whether or not they had someone on their shoulder who flew in with a UFO, I don’t know. All I know is they left a whole lot of granite rocks out there,” he said according to WWL-TV.

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aerial 4

An aerial view of Chandeleur Islands. Louisiana, Chandeleur Islands, St. Bernard Parish. (NOAA Restoration Center / CC BY 2.0 )

Another Bermuda Triangle?

But that’s not all. According to Gelé, the pyramid, which he estimates is 280 feet (85 meters) tall, produces an incredible amount of electromagnetic energy . His claims are corroborated by local shrimper Ricky Robin who’s been out with him on four excursions.

According to Robin, the compass on his boat spun completely out of control as they neared the point which Gelé told him was the tip of the pyramid. “Everything will go out on your boat, all your electronics. Like as if you were in the Bermuda Triangle . That’s exactly what we got here,” he is quoted in the Sun as saying . He added that the granite slabs that fishermen found in the area at regular intervals had long been a topic of discussion and putting two and two together, he thought of them immediately as pieces of the pyramid since it was exactly where his compass went crazy.

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Georges

George Gelé has spent almost 50 years studying the site where he believes a lost city is hiding underwater. (WWLTV / YouTube)

A Lost City? Or Are There More Mundane Explanations?

Though he has his adherents, many treat Gelé’s claims with skepticism, subscribing to explanations that are as of now less of a stretch of imagination than the theory of a submerged city near the Chandeleur Islands . And there are several of these rather more realistic explanations. One is from a late 1980s Texas A&M study which claims the granite blocks originate from old shipwrecks or ballast stones thrown overboard by Spanish and French ships to lighten their load as they entered shallow waters.

In fact, Gelé himself made a presentation in 2014 along similar lines. There he explored possibilities of the stone piles being from a construction dump or a build up from several shipwrecks. LSU archaeology professor Rob Mann told local newspaper the Advocate in 2011 that he believed the granite slabs originated from an abortive attempt to build an artificial reef. The state’s archaeologist told the same newspaper that while he agreed that barge loads of stones seemed to have been dumped there, the reasons were not clear.

The jury is still out on whether there is any substance to Gelé’s claims of a 12,000-year-old lost city, or whether the more commonplace explanations are closer to the truth. Certainly, Gelé’s hypothesis is more romantic. But until future dives, solar technology or satellite imaging help him put some proof out there, he will find it difficult to find serious scientific backing for his lost city ideas.

Top image: Representational image of a lost city at the bottom of the ocean. Source: diversepixel / Adobe Stock

By Sahir Pandey

Cast Iron Garlic Rolls

Cast Iron Garlic Rolls are a perfect addition to any weeknight meal.

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2023 01 25 15 36

Prep: 10 min | Bake: 12 to 15 min | Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 10 Rhodes Yeast Dinner Rolls, thawed to room temperature
  • 3 tablespoons butter, melted
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried parsley

Instructions

  1. Spray a 10-inch cast iron skillet with non-stick cooking spray.
  2. Combine melted butter, garlic powder, and parsley. Dip each roll into butter mixture, coating completely and arrange in skillet. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until double in size.
  3. Remove wrap and gently brush with remaining mixture.
  4. Bake at 350 degrees F for 12 to 15 minutes until golden brown.

Russia Throws Down Nuclear Gauntlet over M1, Bradley and other Offensive Weaponry to Kiev

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2023 01 27 12 05
2023 01 27 12 05

This is FLASH TRAFFIC:  Konstantin Gavrilov,  the head of the Russia Delegation to the Organization for Security and Coorperation in Europe (OSCE) has just publicly thrown down the nuclear gauntlet to the collective west, in an official statement:

Gavrilov said that he has been instructed by his government to announce “We know that the Leopard-2 tank, as well as the Bradley and Marder infantry fighting vehicles, are armed with uranium-core armor-piercing projectiles, the use of which leads to [radioactive] contamination of the area, as happened in Yugoslavia and Iraq.

If such shells are delivered to Kyiv, we will consider this as the use of dirty nuclear bombs against Russia, with all the ensuing consequences.”

It is a fact that the US and NATO do have Depleted Beryllium and Depleted Uranium ammunition which is used as “armor piercing” and “bunker busting” projectiles.    None of these projectiles causes a nuclear chain reaction, so there is no nuclear blast from them.  HOWEVER, when these particular projectiles strike their target, the metal used to make the projectiles (Uranium and/or Beryllium) is so dense, that it punches through whatever it hits.  AS THAT HAPPENS, layers of the projectile disintegrate into highly radioactive powder which then travels by air, polluting entire areas for decades.

In Afghanistan, when the US used such weapons against the hideouts of Osama Bin Laden, the projectiles went through hundreds of feet of rock in the mountains and shed layers of radioactive material as they penetrated.  This radioactive powder then polluted the groundwater for miles inside Afghanistan, leading to contaminated wells, which then lead to horrifying birth defects in almost all pregnant women who drank the water.

These effects have been deliberately concealed from US citizens by a compliant US media, but they occurred AND ARE STILL OCCURRING to this very day.

Russia has just thrown down the nuclear gauntlet to the West.

The probability of a now-Nuclear exchange – and outright nuclear war — just got very, VERY, real.

Most military use of depleted uranium (DU) has been as 30 mm ordnance, primarily the 30 mm PGU-14/B armor-piercing incendiary round from the GAU-8 Avenger cannon of the A-10 Thunderbolt II used by the United States Air Force. 25 mm DU rounds have been used in the M242 gun mounted on the U.S. Army’s Bradley Fighting Vehicle and the Marine Corps LAV-25.

The U.S. Marine Corps uses DU in the 25 mm PGU-20 round fired by the GAU-12 Equalizer cannon of the AV-8B Harrier, and also in the 20 mm M197 gun mounted on AH-1 Cobra helicopter gunships. The United States Navy‘s Phalanx CIWS‘s M61 Vulcan Gatling gun used 20 mm armor-piercing penetrator rounds with discarding plastic sabots and a core made using depleted uranium, later changed to tungsten.

Another use of depleted uranium is in kinetic energy penetratorsanti-armor rounds such as the 120 mm sabot rounds fired from the British Challenger 1Challenger 2M1A1 and M1A2 Abrams. Kinetic energy penetrator rounds consist of a long, relatively thin penetrator surrounded by a discarding sabot. Staballoys are metal alloys of depleted uranium with a very small proportion of other metals, usually titanium or molybdenum. One formulation has a composition of 99.25% by mass of depleted uranium and 0.75% by mass of titanium. Staballoys are approximately 1.67 times as dense as lead and are designed for use in kinetic energy penetrator armor-piercing ammunition. The US Army uses DU in an alloy with around 3.5% titanium.

Depleted uranium is favored for the penetrator because it is self-sharpening and flammable. On impact with a hard target, such as an armored vehicle, the nose of the rod fractures in such a way that it remains sharp. The impact and subsequent release of heat energy causes it to ignite. When a DU penetrator reaches the interior of an armored vehicle, it catches fire, often igniting ammunition and fuel, killing the crew and possibly causing the vehicle to explode. DU is used by the U.S. Army in 120 mm or 105 mm cannons employed on the M1 Abrams tank. The Soviet/Russian military has used DU ammunition in tank main gun ammunition since the late 1970s, mostly for the 115 mm guns in the T-62 tank and the 125 mm guns in the T-64T-72T-80, and T-90 tanks.

The DU content in various ammunition is 180 g in 20 mm projectiles, 200 g in 25 mm ones, 280 g in 30 mm, 3.5 kg in 105 mm, and 4.5 kg in 120 mm penetrators. DU was used during the mid-1990s in the U.S. to make hand grenades, and land mines, but those applications have been discontinued, according to Alliant Techsystems. The US Navy used DU in its 20 mm Phalanx CIWS guns, but switched in the late 1990s to armor-piercing tungsten.

Only the US and the UK have acknowledged using DU weapons. 782,414 DU rounds were fired during the 1991 war in Iraq, mostly by US forces. In a three-week period of conflict in Iraq during 2003, it was estimated that between 1,000 and 2,000 tons of depleted uranium munitions were used. More than 300,000 DU rounds were fired during the 2003 war, the vast majority by US troops.

The Chill And Retro Motion Pixel Art Of Motocross Saito

Pixel artist, designer, DJ and track maker Motocross Saito creates memorable GIF animations in a retro style, channeling ’80s and ’90s culture and music, with a focus on hip hop. Although he has been introduced internationally as the “loneliness GIF” artist, as Motocross Saito explains in this interview with CNN Japan, what he is really aiming for in his animated GIF pixel art is to “express a feeling that can soothe your mind, create a calming effect.”

Many of his animated GIF scenes feature a common character, perhaps his alter ego, a school girl with blue hair who seems to like hip hop, flips through LPs at record shops, makes music and DJs in her home studio surrounded by all kinds of electronic music equipment, and apparently lives with her pet German shepherd.

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Amazing UK

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2023 01 27 13 50

China starts to assert itself

From this Sputnik report, it looks like China’s new FM has changed the tenor of its replies to the Outlaw US Empire to one step beyond what was known as “Wolf Warrior Diplomacy”, “China Tells US to ‘Solve Its Debt Problem’ Instead of Worrying About Zambia’s”:

The People’s Republic of China has fired back at US criticism of its relationship with Zambia, arguing that Washington should address its own crisis first.

A statement released by the Chinese Embassy in Lusaka on Tuesday has urged the US Treasury to focus on “solving the US’ own domestic debt problem."

“The biggest contribution that the US can make to the debt issues outside the country is to act on responsible monetary policies, cope with its own debt problem and stop sabotaging other sovereign countries’ active efforts to solve their debt issues,” the statement blasted.

However, the embassy added that “even if the US one day solves its debt problem, it is not qualified to make groundless accusations against, or press for, other countries out of selfish interests, because it cannot at all alleviate [the] US’ tremendous responsibility for the reason of the world debt issues, let alone the fact the US’ domestic debt problem is now worsening the world’s economic and financial stability.”

Yes, the reply came from the Embassy but you can bet it was formulated in Beijing. There’s more to the article I urge barflies to read. IMO, this incident marks the opening salvo of the 2023 Debt War that the Outlaw US Empire has no hopes of winning but acts as if it can behave as it did in the past when there was little international resistance, which isn’t the case today.

Posted by: karlof1 | Jan 24 2023 21:14 utc | 135

Muntean / Rosenblum Paint Dramatic Scenes of Contemporary Life

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Artist duo Muntean / Rosenblum use traditional Christian iconography and Baroque modes of seeing to create mystique around contemporary life. Typically set in landscapes distinct to the 21st century, such as nuclear plants and graffiti-ed railroad tracks, the paintings appear as documentary film stills or snapshots of our current reality. However, by contorting perspectives in a dramatic Caravaggio-esque manner and devising moments where pain or discomfort appear as main subjects, Muntean / Rosenblum cultivate the same aura of the unknown that is so captivating in paintings centuries old.

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To further enhance the strange, almost sinister quality of the works, the London and Vienna-based artists insert philosophical musings as captions. For example, “We imagine that we remember things as they were, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past,” is scrawled under the image of a man looking down solemnly, while behind him, an ambush of armed-police crouches amid heavy smoke. With this written clue, one decodes the painting as a representation of memory.

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While Muntean / Rosenblum use a variety of recurring motifs, none is as strong as the use of naked skin to translate ideas of innocence and vulnerability. In the context of Muntean / Rosenblum’s paintings, shirtless sleeping boys in boxer shorts; topless teens helping a fallen comrade; and a naked young girl fresh from the pool take on the role of a pseduo-Jesus. Despite (or maybe because of) their youth and naïveté, they are posed to absorb the evils of the world surrounding them.

479
479

846
846

751
751

665
665

564
564

Potsdam Agreement that ended World War 2 VIOLATED! Germany to send tanks to Ukraine

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After weeks of pressure from Western allies, Germany on Wednesday announced it will send battle tanks to Ukraine in violation of the Potsdam Agreement that ended World War 2, as the Kyiv’s war with Russia wages on, a move that may spur the U.S. to do the same.

Germany is set to send 14 Leopard 2 battle tanks and approve other countries’ requests to do the same, answering a longstanding call from Kyiv for the heavy combat vehicles.

Poland, in particular, was eager to supply Kyiv with the Leopard tanks — but Germany, which makes them, needed to sign off on the move before the tanks were sent to a country outside of the NATO alliance.

Former U.S. national security adviser John Bolton earlier this week knocked Berlin’s performance during Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as “incredibly disappointing” and a potential signal to Moscow of a weakness in the NATO front.

“NATO is a lot more fractured than some of its political leaders would like to let on,” Bolton said, adding that Russian President Vladimir Putin likely saw Germany as “the weak point in the alliance.”

The Biden administration could now move to send additional tanks, a reversal of its initial stance.

“The war started by [Russia] doesn’t allow delays. I can thank you hundreds of times – but hundreds of ‘thank you’ are not hundreds of tanks,” Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky said on Twitter over the weekend.

The Potsdam Agreement

The Potsdam Agreement was the agreement between three of the Allies of World War II: the United Kingdom, the United States, and the Soviet Union on 1 August 1945. A product of the Potsdam Conference, it concerned the military occupation and reconstruction of Germany, its border, and the entire European Theatre of War territory. It also addressed Germany’s demilitarization, reparations, the prosecution of war criminals and the mass expulsion of ethnic Germans from various parts of Europe. France was not invited in the conference but formally still one of powers occupying Germany.

Executed as a communiqué, the agreement was not a peace treaty according to international law, although it created accomplished facts. It was superseded by the Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany signed on 12 September 1990.

As De Gaulle had not been invited to the Conference, the French resisted implementing the Potsdam Agreements within their occupation zone. In particular, the French refused to resettle any expelled Germans from the east. Moreover, the French did not accept any obligation to abide by the Potsdam Agreement in the proceedings of the Allied Control Council; in particular resisting all proposals to establish common policies and institutions across Germany as a whole, and anything that they feared might lead to the emergence of an eventual unified German government.

Overview

After the end of World War II in Europe (1939–45), and the decisions of the earlier Tehran, Casablanca and Yalta Conferences, the Allies assumed supreme authority over Germany by the Berlin Declaration of June 5, 1945.

At the Potsdam Conference the Western Allies were presented with Stalin’s fait accompli awarding Soviet-occupied Poland the river Oder as its western border, placing the entire Soviet Occupation Zone east of it (with the exception of the Kaliningrad enclave), including Pomerania, most of East Prussia, and Danzig, under Polish administration. The German population who had not fled were expelled and their properties acquisitioned by the state. President Truman and the British delegations protested at these actions.

The Three Power Conference took place from 17 July to 2 August 1945, in which they adopted the Protocol of the Proceedings, August 1, 1945, signed at Cecilienhof Palace in Potsdam. The signatories were General Secretary Joseph Stalin, President Harry S. Truman, and Prime Minister Clement Attlee, who, as a result of the British general election of 1945, had replaced Winston Churchill as the UK’s representative. The three powers also agreed to invite France and China to participate as members of the Council of Foreign Ministers established to oversee the agreement. The Provisional Government of the French Republic accepted the invitation on August 7, with the key reservation that it would not accept a priori any commitment to the eventual reconstitution of a central government in Germany.

James F. Byrnes wrote “we specifically refrained from promising to support at the German Peace Conference any particular line as the western frontier of Poland.” The Berlin Protocol declared: “The three heads of government reaffirm their opinion that the final delimitation of the western frontier of Poland should await the [final] peace settlement.” Byrnes continues: “In the light of this history, it is difficult to credit with good faith any person who asserts that Poland’s western boundary was fixed by the conferences, or that there was a promise that it would be established at some particular place.”

In the Potsdam Agreement (Berlin Conference) the Allies (UK, USSR, US) agreed on the following matters:

  1. Establishment of a Council of Foreign Ministers, also including France and China; tasked the preparation of a peace settlement for Germany, to be accepted by the Government of Germany once a government adequate for the purpose had been established.
    See the London Conference of Foreign Ministers and the Moscow Conference which took place later in 1945.
  2. The principles to govern the treatment of Germany in the initial control period.
    See European Advisory Commission and Allied Control Council
    • A. Political principles.
    Post-war Germany to be divided into four Occupation Zones under the control of Britain, the Soviet Union, the United States and France; with the Commanders-in-chief of each country’s forces exercising sovereign authority over matters within their own zones, while exercising authority jointly through the Allied Control Council for ‘Germany as a whole’.
    Democratization. Treatment of Germany as a single unit. Disarmament and Demilitarization. Elimination of all Nazi influence.
    • B. Economic principles.
    Reduction or destruction of all civilian heavy industry with war potential, such as shipbuilding, machine production and chemical factories. Restructuring of German economy towards agriculture and light industry.
  3. Reparations from Germany.
    This section covered reparation claims of the USSR from the Soviet occupation zone in Germany. The section also agreed that 10% of the industrial capacity of the western zones unnecessary for the German peace economy should be transferred to the Soviet Union within two years. The Soviet Union withdrew its previous objections to French membership of the Allied Reparations Commission, which had been established in Moscow following the Yalta conference.
  4. Disposal of the German Navy and merchant marine.
    All but thirty submarines to be sunk and the rest of the German Navy was to be divided equally between the three powers.
    The German merchant marine was to be divided equally between the three powers, and they would distribute some of those ships to the other Allies. But until the end of the war with the Empire of Japan all the ships would remain under the authority of the Combined Shipping Adjustment Board and the United Maritime Authority.
  5. City of Königsberg and the adjacent area (then East Prussia, now Kaliningrad Oblast).
    The United States and Britain declared that they would support the transfer of Königsberg and the adjacent area to the Soviet Union at the peace conference.
  6. War criminals
    This was a short paragraph and covered the creation of the London Charter and the subsequent Nuremberg Trials:

    The Three Governments have taken note of the discussions which have been proceeding in recent weeks in London between British, United States, Soviet and French representatives with a view to reaching agreement on the methods of trial of those major war criminals whose crimes under the Moscow Declaration of October 1943 have no particular geographical localization. The Three Governments reaffirm their intention to bring these criminals to swift and sure justice. They hope that the negotiations in London will result in speedy agreement being reached for this purpose, and they regard it as a matter of great importance that the trial of these major criminals should begin at the earliest possible date. The first list of defendants will be published before 1st September.

  7. Austria:
    The government of Austria was to be decided after British and American forces entered Vienna, and that Austria should not pay any reparations.
  8. Poland
    There should be a Provisional Government of National Unity recognized by all three powers, and that those Poles who were serving in British Army formations should be free to return to Poland. The provisional western border should be the Oder–Neisse line, with territories to the east of this excluded from the Soviet Occupation zone and placed under Polish and Soviet civil administration. Poland would receive former German territories in the north and west, but the final delimitation of the western frontier of Poland should await the peace settlement; which eventually took place as the Treaty on the Final Settlement With Respect to Germany in 1990.
  9. Conclusion on peace treaties and admission to the United Nations organization.
    See Moscow Conference of Foreign Ministers which took place later in 1945.
    It was noted that Italy had fought on the side of the Allies and was making good progress towards establishment of a democratic government and institutions and that after the peace treaty the three Allies would support an application from a democratic Italian government for membership of the United Nations. Further

    [t]he three Governments have also charged the Council of Foreign Ministers with the task of preparing peace treaties for BulgariaFinlandHungary and Romania. The conclusion of Peace Treaties with recognized democratic governments in these States will also enable the three Governments to support applications from them for membership of the United Nations. The three Governments agree to examine each separately in the near future in the light of the conditions then prevailing, the establishment of diplomatic relations with Finland, Romania, Bulgaria, and Hungary to the extent possible prior to the conclusion of peace treaties with those countries.

    The details were discussed later that year at the Moscow Conference of Foreign Ministers and the treaties were signed in 1947 at the Paris Peace Conference
    By that time the governments of Romania, Bulgaria, and Hungary were Communist.
  10. Territorial Trusteeship
    Italian former colonies would be decided in connection with the preparation of a peace treaty for Italy. Like most of the other former European Axis powers the Italian peace treaty was signed at the 1947 Paris Peace Conference.
  11. Revised Allied Control Commission procedure in Romania, Bulgaria, and Hungary
    Now that hostilities in Europe were at an end the Western Allies should have a greater input into the Control Commissions of Central and Eastern Europe, the Annex to this agreement included detailed changes to the workings of the Hungarian Control Commission.
  12. Orderly transfer of German Populations
    Main article Flight and expulsion of Germans (1944–50)

    The Three Governments, having considered the question in all its aspects, recognize that the transfer to Germany of German populations, or elements thereof, remaining in Poland, Czechoslovakia and Hungary, will have to be undertaken. They agree that any transfers that take place should be effected in an orderly and humane manner.

    “German populations, or elements thereof, remaining in Poland” refers to Germans living within the 1937 boundaries of Poland up to the Curzon line going East. In theory, that German ethnic population could have been expelled to the Polish temporarily administered territories of SilesiaFarther Pomerania, East Prussia and eastern Brandenburg.
    Because the Allied Occupation Zones in Germany were under great strain, the Czechoslovak government, the Polish provisional government and the control council in Hungary were asked to submit an estimate of the time and rate at which further transfers could be carried out having regard to the present situation in Germany and suspend further expulsions until these estimates were integrated into plans for an equitable distribution of these “removed” Germans among the several zones of occupation.
  13. Oil equipment in Romania
  14. Iran
    Allied troops were to withdraw immediately from Tehran and that further stages of the withdrawal of troops from Iran should be considered at the meeting of the Council of Foreign Ministers to be held in London in September 1945.
  15. The international zone of Tangier.
    The city of Tangier and the area around it should remain international and discussed further.
  16. The Black sea straits.
    The Montreux Convention should be revised and that this should be discussed with the Turkish government.
  17. International inland waterways
  18. European inland transport conference.
  19. Directives to the military commanders on allied control council for Germany.
  20. Use of Allied property for satellite reparations or war trophies
    These were detailed in Annex II
  21. Military Talks
  • Annex I
  • Annex II

Moreover, towards concluding the Pacific Theatre of War, the Potsdam Conference issued the Potsdam Declaration, the Proclamation Defining Terms for Japanese Surrender (26 July 1945) wherein the Western Allies (UK, US, USSR) and the Nationalist China of General Chiang Kai-shek asked Japan to surrender or be destroyed.

Aftermath

Territorial changes

The northern half of the German province of East Prussia, occupied by the Red Army during its East Prussian Offensive followed by its evacuation in winter 1945, had already been incorporated into Soviet territory as the Kaliningrad Oblast. The Western Allies promised to support the annexation of the territory north of the BraunsbergGoldap line when a Final German Peace Treaty was held.

The Allies had acknowledged the legitimacy of the Polish Provisional Government of National Unity, which was about to form a Soviet satellite state. Urged by Stalin, the UK and the US gave in to put the German territories east of the Oder–Neisse line from the Baltic coast west of Świnoujście up to the Czechoslovak border “under Polish administration”; allegedly confusing the Lusatian Neisse and the Glatzer Neisse rivers. The proposal of an Oder-BoberQueis line was rejected by the Soviet delegation. The cession included the former Free City of Danzig and the seaport of Stettin on the mouth of the Oder River (Szczecin Lagoon), vital for the Upper Silesian Industrial Region.

Post-war, ‘Germany as a whole’ would consist solely of aggregate territories of the respective zones of occupation. As all former German territories east of the Oder-Neisse line were excluded from the Soviet Occupation Zone, they were consequently excluded from ‘Germany as a whole’.

EXPULSIONS

In the course of the proceedings, Polish communists had begun to suppress the German population west of the Bóbr river to underline their demand for a border on the Lusatian Neisse. The Allied resolution on the “orderly transfer” of German population became the legitimation of the expulsion of Germans from the nebulous parts of Central Europe, if they had not already fled from the advancing Red Army.

The expulsion of ethnic Germans by the Poles concerned, in addition to Germans within areas behind the 1937 Polish border in the West (such as in most of the old Prussian province of West Prussia), the territories placed “under Polish administration” pending a Final German Peace Treaty, i.e. southern East Prussia (Masuria), Farther Pomerania, the New March region of the former Province of Brandenburg, the districts of the Grenzmark Posen-West PrussiaLower Silesia and those parts of Upper Silesia that had remained with Germany after the 1921 Upper Silesia plebiscite. It further affected the German minority living within the territory of the former Second Polish Republic in Greater Poland, eastern Upper Silesia, Chełmno Land and the Polish Corridor with Danzig.

The Germans in Czechoslovakia (34% of the population of the territory of what is now the Czech Republic), known as Sudeten Germans but also Carpathian Germans, were expelled from the Sudetenland region where they formed a majority, from linguistic enclaves in central Bohemia and Moravia, as well as from the city of Prague.

Though the Potsdam Agreement referred only to Poland, Czechoslovakia and Hungary, expulsions also occurred in Romania, where the Transylvanian Saxons were deported and their property disseized, and in Yugoslavia. In the Soviet territories, Germans were expelled from northern East Prussia (Oblast Kaliningrad) but also from the adjacent Lithuanian Klaipeda Region and other lands settled by Baltic Germans.

IRS Alerts Taxpayers They Must Answer a New Question On Tax Forms Or Face Consequences

by Tyler Durden
Friday, Jan 27, 2023 – 10:10 AM
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The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) issued an alert to taxpayers on Tuesday, reminding them that they must report all digital asset-related income and answer a new digital asset question on their 2022 federal income tax return or face consequences such as delayed refunds or even penalties.

The IRS said in a Jan. 24 release that a key change on 1040 forms this year is that the agency has replaced the term “virtual currency” with “digital assets,” in addition to some other modifications to the wording.

The “Yes” or “No” question, which was expanded and revised this year to update terminology, reads as follows:

“At any time during 2022, did you: (a) receive (as a reward, award or payment for property or services); or (b) sell, exchange, gift or otherwise dispose of a digital asset (or a financial interest in a digital asset)?

The question appears at the top of tax forms 1040, Individual Income Tax Return; 1040-SR, U.S. Tax Return for Seniors; and 1040-NR, U.S. Nonresident Alien Income Tax Return.

All taxpayers must answer the question regardless of whether they engaged in any transactions involving digital assets,” the agency cautioned.

It is a legal requirement to accurately report all income, including income from digital assets, on federal income tax returns. Failure to do so could result in non-compliance with tax laws and possible penalties.

The IRS has provided a detailed explanation of what constitutes a digital asset, which includes such things as stablecoins, non-fungible tokens (NFTs), and cryptocurrencies.

Taxpayers need to check the “Yes” box if they:

  • Received digital assets as payment for property or services provided;
  • Transferred digital assets for free (without receiving any consideration) as a bona fide gift;
  • Received digital assets resulting from a reward or award;
  • Received new digital assets resulting from mining, staking, and similar activities;
  • Received digital assets resulting from a hard fork (a branching of a cryptocurrency’s blockchain that splits a single cryptocurrency into two);
  • Disposed of digital assets in exchange for property or services;
  • Disposed of a digital asset in exchange or trade for another digital asset;
  • Sold a digital asset; or
  • Otherwise disposed of any other financial interest in a digital asset.

Those who tick the “Yes” box must also report all income related to their digital asset transactions on relevant forms. For instance, an investor who sold cryptocurrency during 2022 would use Form 8949, Sales and other Dispositions of Capital Assets.

Taxpayers should check the “No” box if they merely owned digital assets but didn’t engage in any transactions involving them in 2022.

They should also tick “No” if they merely transferred digital assets from one wallet or account they own or control to another one that they own or control, and if they bought digital assets using real currency like the U.S. dollar.

Many Americans Will See Smaller Tax Refunds

The IRS has warned that many taxpayers should expect a smaller refund this tax season because of tax law changes including the expiration of pandemic-related stimulus payments that would otherwise have boosted refund balances.

“Due to tax law changes such as the elimination of the Advance Child Tax Credit and no Recovery Rebate Credit this year to claim pandemic-related stimulus payments, many taxpayers may find their refunds somewhat lower this year,” the IRS said in a press release on Jan. 23, the day the agency began tax returns for 2022 earnings.

Not all tax filers will see lower refunds as individual circumstances vary; many will see smaller checks.

The Recovery Rebate Credit was a way for millions of Americans to receive pandemic support if they did not receive their full amount via stimulus checks.

This credit was available for missing amounts from the first, second, and third round stimulus checks, and could only be claimed on 2020 and 2021 tax returns.

The stimulus checks were discontinued in December 2021 and the missing third-round amounts could only be claimed on a 2021 tax return filed in 2022.

However, people who may have missed the opportunity to claim missing third-round stimulus payments can review their 2021 tax return and consider filing an amended return.

The Child Tax Credit (CTC) for 2022 tax returns has been reduced to $2,000 per child, down from the expanded amount of $3,600 for children under 6 and $3,000 for children between 6 and 17 in 2021.

Some taxpayers may be eligible for an Additional Child Tax Credit (ACTC), which would allow them to receive up to $1,500 of the CTC as a refund on their tax return.

Also, a tax credit that working parents can use to help cover child care costs or that people with adult dependents can use for the same purpose is lower in 2022.

Double Orange Scones with Orange Butter

Double Orange Scones with Orange Butter
Double Orange Scones with Orange Butter

Ingredients

Scones

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon grated orange rind
  • 1/3 cup butter
  • 1 (11 ounce) can mandarin oranges, drained
  • 1/4 cup milk
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 1 tablespoon sugar

Orange Butter

  • 1/4 cup butter, softened
  • 2 tablespoons orange marmalade

Instructions

  1. Scones: Combine first 4 ingredients in a large bowl; stir well.
  2. Cut in butter with pastry blender until mixture is crumbly.
  3. Add oranges, milk and egg, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened.
  4. Turn dough out onto a heavily floured surface, and knead lightly 4 or 5 times.
  5. Pat dough into a 6-inch circle on a greased baking sheet.
  6. Cut into wedges; separate wedges slightly.
  7. Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon sugar.
  8. Bake at 400 degrees F for 15 to 20 minutes or until lightly browned.
  9. Serve warm with orange butter.
  10. Orange Butter: Combine butter and orange marmalade in a small bowl, stirring well.

Why We Should Stop The Reincarnation Cycle while the year of the Rabbit is cooking

I feel that I am not worthy. Have you all ever felt that way? Sometimes I feel like I am all talk and no action. Because when I look back in my life, and I encounter something new, I seem to make the WRONG decision. Why is that? I sincerely want to do the “right” thing,

Is it me? Or, is it part of the limitations of my template?

This is certainly something to think about.

Pepe Escobar
January 24, 2023

The New Silk Roads, or BRI, as well as the integration efforts of BRICS+, the SCO and the EAEU will be on the forefront of Chinese policy.

Liu He studied economics at Renmin University in China and got a Master’s from Harvard. Since 2018, he’s one of China’s Vice Premiers – along with Han Zheng, Sun Chunlan, and Hu Chunhua. He’s a Director of the Central Financial and Economic Affairs Commission and heads the China Financial Stability and Development Committee. Anyone around the world who wants to know what will drive China’s economy in the Year of the Rabbit must pay attention to Liu He.

Davos 2023 has come and gone: an extended exercise in Demented Dystopia with peaks of paroxysm. At least a measure of reality was offered by Liu He’s address. A limited but competent analysis of what he said is infinitely more useful than torrents of barely disguised Sinophobic “research” vomited by U.S. Think Tankland.

Liu He pointed to some key numbers for the Chinese economy in 2022. Overall 3% growth may not be groundbreaking; but what matters is value-added for high-tech manufacturing and equipment manufacturing going up by 7.4% and 5.6% respectively. What this means is that Chinese industrial capacity continues to move up the value chain.

Trade, predictably, reigns supreme: the total value of imports and exports reached the equivalent of $6,215 trillion in 2022; that’s an increase of 7.7% over 2021.

Liu He also made it clear that improving the wealth of Chinese citizens remains a key priority, as enounced in the 2022 Party Congress: the number of middle class Chinese, by 2035, should jump from the current 400 million to an astonishing 900 million.

Liu He pointedly explained that everything about Chinese reforms revolves around the notion of establishing “a socialist market economy”. This translates as “let the market play a decisive role in resources allocation, let the government play a better role.” That has absolutely nothing to do with Beijing privileging a planned economy. As Liu He detailed, “we will deepen SOE [State-Owned Enterprises] reform, support the private sector, and promote fair competition, anti-monopoly and entrepreneurship.”

China is reaching the next level, economically: that translates as building, as fast as possible, an innovation-driven commercial base. Specific targets include finance, tech, and greater productivity in industry, as in applying more robotics.

On the fin-tech front, a resurgent Hong Kong is bound to play an extremely important role starting by 2024 – most of it in consequence of several Wealth Management Connect mechanisms.

Enter, or re-enter the key role of the Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao Greater Bay Area – one the key development nodes of 21st century China.

What is known as the Greater Bay Area’s Wealth Management Connect is a set up that allows wealthy investors from the nine mainland cities that compose the area to invest in yuan-denominated financial products issued by banks in Hong Kong and Macao – and vice-versa. What this means in practice is opening up mainland China’s financial markets even further.

So expect a new Hong Kong boom by 2025. All those dejected by the collective West’s morass, start making plans.

Dual circulation hits Eurasia

As expected, Liu He also referred to the key Beijing strategy for this decade: “A new development paradigm with domestic circulation as the mainstay and domestic and international circulations reinforcing each other.”

The dual-circulation strategy reflects the Beijing leadership’s emphasis on simultaneously boosting China’s self-reliance and its vast export market footprint. Virtually every government policy is about dual circulation. When Liu He talks about “spurring of China’s domestic demand” he’s sending a direct message to global exporters – Eastern and Western – focusing on this ever-growing, gigantic mass of Chinese middle class consumers.

On the geopolitical and geoeconomic Big Picture, Liu He was diplomatically circumspect. He just let it filter that “we believe that an equitable international economic order must be preserved by all.”

Translation: the New Silk Roads, or BRI, as well as the integration efforts of BRICS+, the SCO and the EAEU will be on the forefront of Chinese policy.

And that brings us to what should become one of the key stories of the Year of the Rabbit: the renewed drive along the New Silk Roads.

Few better than the Chinese, historically, understand that from Samarkand to Venice, from Bukhara to Guangzhou, from Palmyra to Alexandria, from the Karakoram to the Hindu Kush, from deserts that used to engulf caravans to gardens of secluded harems, a formidable pull of economic, political, cultural and religious factors not only linked the extremities of Eurasia – from the Mediterranean to China – but determine and will continue to determine its centuries-old history.

The Ancient Silk Roads were not only about silk but also spices, porcelain, precious tones, fur, gold, tea, glass, slaves, concubines, war, knowledge, plagues – and that’s how they turned into the symbol of Eurasia-wide “people to people exchanges”, as Xi Jinping and the Beijing leadership extol it today.

These processes involve archeology, economics, history, musicology, compared mythology; so, keeping up with the past, the New Silk Roads also mean all manner of exchanges between East and West. The perpetual history of non-stop trade, in this case, is only the material base, a pretext.

Before silk there was lapis lazuli, copper, incense. Even if China may have only opened itself to the outside world on the 2nd century B.C. – because of silk – Chinese tradition, in the oldest Chinese novel, The Chronicle of the Son of Heaven Mu, tells the tale of Emperor Mu visiting the Queen of Sheba already in the 10th century B.C.

The exchanges between Europe and China may have started only in the 1st century B.C. The men who actually traversed the Eurasian immensities were actually few. It’s only in the year 98 that the Chinese ambassadorship of Gan Ying departs for Da Qin – that is, Rome. He never arrived.

In the year 166, the Antoninus Pius ambassadorship, allegedly sent by the Emperor himself, finally hits China; but in fact that’s just an adventurous merchant. For 13 centuries there was a huge exploratory void.

Despite the prodigious advances of Islam and the omnipresence of Muslim merchants since the 7th century, it’s only in the 13th century – at the time of the last Crusades and the Mongol conquest – that Europeans picked up again the road towards the East. And then, on the 15th century, the Ming emperors succeeding the Mongols totally closed China to the outside world.

It’s only due to a certain extent to the Jesuits in the 16th century that a meeting finally happened – 17 centuries too late: Europe finally started to acquire some knowledge of China, even as it dreamed about it over and over again, since chic Roman patricians were enveloped in transparent silk robes.

It’s only around 1600 that Europeans seem to have become aware that Northern China and Southern China are on the same continent. So we may conclude that China really became known in the West only after the “discovery” of the Americas.

Two worlds ignored each other for so long – and still, all along the watchtowers in the middle of the steppes, trade kept moving from one side of Eurasia to another.

Now it’s time for another historical push – even as a discombobulated Europe is kept hostage by a cabal of imperial Straussian neo-cons and neoliberal-cons. Duisburg, in the Rhur valley, the world’s largest inland port, after all remains the key Iron Silk Road hub across BRI, linked by endless railways to Chongqing in China. Wake up, Young German: your future is in the East.

Don’t worry about China. Chinese are the biggest savers in the world at 22%. America spends before your dollars ink is dried. And today it has exceeded the debt limit and by June you cannot pay interest anymore. Basically US is a bankrupt. Stop worrying about China. China is top of the class, US is the last. Get your priorities right.

Lasagna Soup

lasagnia soup
lasagnia soup

Ingredients

  • 1 pound Italian sausage
  • 1/2 cup chopped onion
  • 1 package Lasagna Dinner Mix (Hamburger Helper)
  • 5 cups water
  • 2 cans corn, undrained
  • 1 can diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 2 tablespoons parmesan cheese
  • 3 small zucchinis, chopped

Instructions

  1. Brown sausage with onion and drain. Add lasagna sauce mix (not noodles), water, tomatoes, corn and cheese. Bring to a boil and reduce heat. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes.
  2. Add noodles and zucchini. Cook for 10 more minutes or until zucchini is done.
  3. Serve with shredded Parmesan cheese.

The Most Egregious Mistake

The U.S. government is hostage to its financial hegemony in a way that is rarely fully understood.

Alastair Crooke
January 23, 2023 | Featured Story
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It is the miscalculation of this era – one that may begin the collapse of dollar primacy, and therefore, global compliance with U.S. political demands, too. But its most grievous content is that it corners the U.S. into promoting dangerous Ukrainian escalation against Russia directly (i.e. Crimea).

Washington dares not – indeed cannot – yield on dollar primacy, the ultimate signifier for ‘American decline’. And so the U.S. government is hostage to its financial hegemony in a way that is rarely fully understood.

The Biden Team cannot withdraw its fantastical narrative of Russia’s imminent humiliation; they have bet the House on it. Yet it has become an existential issue for the U.S. precisely because of this egregious initial miscalculation that has been subsequently levered-up into a preposterous narrative of a floundering, at any moment ‘collapsing’ Russia.

What then is this ‘Great Surprise’ – the almost completely unforeseen event of recent geo-politics that has so shaken U.S. expectations, and which takes the world to the precipice?

It is, in a word, Resilience. The Resilience displayed by the Russian economy after the West had committed the entire weight of its financial resources to crushing Russia. The West bore down on Russia in every conceivable way – via financial, cultural and psychological war – and with real military war as the follow-through.

Yet, Russia has survived, and survived relatively handsomely. It is doing ‘okay’ – maybe better, even, than many Russia insiders were expecting. The ‘Anglo’ Intelligence services however, had assured EU leaders not to worry; it’s ‘slam dunk’; Putin cannot possibly survive. Rapid financial and political collapse, they promised, was certain under the tsunami of western sanctions.

Their analysis represents an Intelligence failure on a par with the non-existent Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. But instead of critical re-examination, as events failed to provide confirmation, they doubled down. But two such failures are just ‘too much’ to bear.

So why does this ‘failed expectation’ constitute such a world-shaking moment for our era? It is because the West fears that its miscalculation might well lead to the collapse of its dollar hegemony. But the fear extends well beyond that too – (bad as ‘that’ would be from the U.S. perspective).

Robert Kagan has outlined how external forward motion and the U.S.’ ‘global mission’ is the lifeblood of American internal polity – more than any equivocating nationalism, Professor Paul suggests. From the founding of the country, the U.S. has been an expansionary republican empire; without this forward motion, civic bonds of domestic unity come into question. If Americans are not united for expansionary republican greatness, by what purpose Professor Paul asks, are all these fissiparous races, creeds, and cultures in America, bound together? (Woke culture has proved no solution, being divisive rather than any pole around which unity can be built).

The point here is that Russian Resilience, at a single stroke, shattered the plate-glass floor to western convictions about its ability to ‘manage the world’. After the several western debacles centred on regime-change by military shock-and-awe, even hardened neo-cons – by 2006 – had conceded that a weaponised financial system was the only means to ‘secure the Empire’.

But this conviction has now been upended – and states around the world have taken notice.

This shock of miscalculation is all the greater because the West disdainfully had taken Russia to be a backward economy, with a GDP on a par to that of Spain. In an interview with Le Figaro last week, Professor Emmanuel Todd noted that Russia and Belarus, taken together, constitute only 3.3% of global GDP. The French historian questioned therefore, ‘how then is it possible that these states could have shown such resilience – in the face of the full force of the financial onslaught’?

Well, firstly, as Professor Todd underlined, ‘GDP’ as a measure of economic resilience is wholly “fictional”. Contrary to its name, GDP measures only aggregate expenditures. And that much of what is recorded as ‘production’, such the over-inflated billing for medical treatment in the U.S.’ and (said, tongue in cheek) services such as the hundreds of economists’ and bank analysts’ highly-paid analysis, are not production, per se, but “water vapour”.

Russia’s resilience, Todd attests, is due to the fact that it has a real economy of production. “War is the ultimate test of a political economy”, he notes. “It is the Great Revealer”.

And what is it that has been revealed? It has revealed another quite unexpected and shocking outcome – one that sends western commentators reeling – that Russia has not run out of missiles. ‘An economy the size of Spain, the western media ask, how can such a tiny economy sustain a prolonged war of attrition by NATO without running out of munitions?’.

But, as Todd outlines, Russia has been able to sustain its weapons-supply because it has a real economy of production that has the capacity to maintain a war – and the West no longer does. The West fixated on its misleading metric of GDP – and with its normalcy bias – is shocked that Russia has the capacity to outpace NATO’s arms inventories. Russia was billed by western analysts as a ‘paper tiger’ – a label that now seems more likely to apply to NATO.

The import of the ‘Great Surprise’ – of Russian Resilience – resulting from its real economy of production vis á vis the evident weakness of the hyper-financialised western model scrabbling for sources of munitions has not been lost on the rest of the world.

There is old history here. In the lead-up to WW1, the British Establishment was concerned that they might lose the coming war with Germany: British banks tended to lend short-term, in a ‘pump and dump’ approach, whereas German banks invested directly in long-term real-economy industrial projects – and therefore were thought to be able to better sustain war materiel supply.

Even then, the Anglo élite had a quiet appreciation of the inherent frailty to a heavily financialised system for which they compensated by simply expropriating the resources of a huge Empire to finance preparation for the coming Great War.

The backdrop then, is that the U.S. inherited the Anglo financialising approach which it subsequently turbo-charged when the U.S. was forced off the gold standard by ballooning budget deficits. The U.S. needed to attract the world’s ‘savings’ into the U.S., by which to finance its Vietnam war deficits.

The rest of Europe from the 19th century outset had been wary of Adam Smith’s ‘Anglo-model’. Friedreich List complained that the Anglos assumed that the ultimate measure of a society is always its level of consumption (expenditure – and hence the GDP metric). In the long run, List argued, a society’s well-being and its overall wealth were determined not by what the society can buy, but by what it can make (i.e. value coming from the real, self-sufficient economy).

The German school argued that emphasizing consumption would eventually be self-defeating. It would bias the system away from wealth creation, and ultimately make it impossible to consume as much, or to employ so many. Hindsight suggests List was correct in his analysis.

‘War – is the ultimate test – and Great Revealer’ (per Todd). The roots to an alternative economic view had lingered on in both Germany and Russia (with Sergei Witte), despite the recent preponderance of the hyper-financialised Anglo-model.

And now with the ‘Great Reveal’, the focus on the real economy is seen as a key insight underpinning the New Global Order, differentiating it sharply in terms both of economic systems and philosophy from the western sphere.

The new order is separating from the old, not just in terms of economic system and philosophy, but through a reconfiguring of the neurons through which trade and culture travels. Old trade routes are being bypassed and left to wither – to be replaced by waterways, pipelines and corridors that avoid all the choke points by which the West can physically control commerce.

The north-east Arctic passage, for example, has opened an inter-Asian trade. The untapped oil and gas fields of the Arctic eventually will fill the gaps in supplies resulting from an ideology that seeks to end investment by western oil and gas majors in fossil fuels. The North-South corridor (now open) links St Petersburg to Bombay. Another component links waterways from northern Russia to the Black Sea, the Caspian and from thence to the south. Yet another component is expected to pipe Caspian gas from the Caspian pipeline network south to a Persian Gulf gas ‘hub’.

Look at it in this way, it is as if the neural connectors in the real economic matrix are, as it were, being lifted up from the west, and are being set down in a new location to the East. If Suez was the waterway of the European era, and the Panama Canal represented that of the American Century, then the north-east Arctic waterway, the North-South corridors and the African railway nexus will be that of the Eurasian era.

In essence, the New Order is preparing to sustain a long economic conflict with the West.

Here, we return to the ‘Egregious Miscalculation’. This evolving New Order existentially threatens dollar hegemony – the U.S. created its hegemony through demanding that oil (and other commodities) be priced in dollars, and by facilitating a frenetic financialisation of asset markets in the U.S. It is this demand for dollars which alone has allowed the U.S. to fund its government deficit (and its defence budget) for nothing.

In this respect, this highly financialised dollar paradigm possesses qualities reminiscent of a sophisticated Ponzi scheme: It pulls in ‘new investors’, attracted by zero-cost credit leverage and the promise of ‘assured’ returns (assets pumped ever upwards by Fed liquidity). But the lure of ‘assured returns’ is tacitly underwritten by the inflation of one asset ‘bubble’ after another, in a regular sequence of bubbles – inflated at zero cost – before being finally ‘dumped’. The process then, is ‘rinsed and repeated’ ad seriatim.

Here is the point: Like a true Ponzi, this system relies on constant, and ever more, ‘new’ money coming into the scheme, to offset ‘payments out’ (financing U.S. government expenditure). Which is to say, U.S. hegemony now depends on constant overseas dollar expansion.

And, as with any pure Ponzi, once ‘money in’ falters, or redemptions spike, the scheme collapses.

It was to prevent the world quitting the dollar scheme for a new global trading order that the signal was ordered to be promulgated, via the onslaught on Russia, to warn that to quit the scheme would bring U.S. Treasury sanctions upon you, and to crash you.

But then came TWO game-changing shocks, in close succession: Inflation and interest rates spiralled, devaluing the value of fiat currencies such as the dollar and undermining the promise of ‘assured returns’; and secondly, Russia DID NOT COLLAPSE under financial Armageddon.

The ‘dollar Ponzi’ falls; U.S. markets fall; the dollar falls in value (vis á vis commodities).

This scheme might be felled by Russian Resilience – and by much of the planet peeling away into a separate economic model, no longer dependent on the dollar for its trading needs. (i.e., new ‘money in’ to the dollar ‘Ponzi’ turns negative, just as ‘money out’ explodes, with the U.S. having to finance ever bigger deficits (now domestically)).

Washington clearly made a stratospherically bad error in thinking that sanctions – and the assumed collapse of Russia – would be a ‘slam dunk’ outcome; one so self-evident that it required no rigorous ‘thinking through’.

Team Biden thus has painted the U.S. into a tight Ukraine ‘corner’. But at this stage – realistically – what can the White House do? It cannot withdraw the narrative of Russia’s ‘coming humiliation’ and defeat. They cannot let the narrative go because it has become an existential component to save what it can of the ‘Ponzi’. To admit that Russia ‘has won’ would be akin to saying that the ‘Ponzi’ will have to ‘close the fund’ to further withdrawals (just as Nixon did in 1971, when he shut withdrawals from the Gold window).

Commentator Yves Smith has provocatively argued, ‘What if Russia decisively wins – yet the western press is directed to not notice?’ Presumably, in such a situation, the economic confrontation between the West and New Global Order states must escalate into a wider, longer war.

 

The U.S. government is hostage to its financial hegemony in a way that is rarely fully understood.

It is the miscalculation of this era – one that may begin the collapse of dollar primacy, and therefore, global compliance with U.S. political demands, too. But its most grievous content is that it corners the U.S. into promoting dangerous Ukrainian escalation against Russia directly (i.e. Crimea).

Washington dares not – indeed cannot – yield on dollar primacy, the ultimate signifier for ‘American decline’. And so the U.S. government is hostage to its financial hegemony in a way that is rarely fully understood.

The Biden Team cannot withdraw its fantastical narrative of Russia’s imminent humiliation; they have bet the House on it. Yet it has become an existential issue for the U.S. precisely because of this egregious initial miscalculation that has been subsequently levered-up into a preposterous narrative of a floundering, at any moment ‘collapsing’ Russia.

What then is this ‘Great Surprise’ – the almost completely unforeseen event of recent geo-politics that has so shaken U.S. expectations, and which takes the world to the precipice?

It is, in a word, Resilience. The Resilience displayed by the Russian economy after the West had committed the entire weight of its financial resources to crushing Russia. The West bore down on Russia in every conceivable way – via financial, cultural and psychological war – and with real military war as the follow-through.

Yet, Russia has survived, and survived relatively handsomely. It is doing ‘okay’ – maybe better, even, than many Russia insiders were expecting. The ‘Anglo’ Intelligence services however, had assured EU leaders not to worry; it’s ‘slam dunk’; Putin cannot possibly survive. Rapid financial and political collapse, they promised, was certain under the tsunami of western sanctions.

Their analysis represents an Intelligence failure on a par with the non-existent Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. But instead of critical re-examination, as events failed to provide confirmation, they doubled down. But two such failures are just ‘too much’ to bear.

So why does this ‘failed expectation’ constitute such a world-shaking moment for our era? It is because the West fears that its miscalculation might well lead to the collapse of its dollar hegemony. But the fear extends well beyond that too – (bad as ‘that’ would be from the U.S. perspective).

Robert Kagan has outlined how external forward motion and the U.S.’ ‘global mission’ is the lifeblood of American internal polity – more than any equivocating nationalism, Professor Paul suggests. From the founding of the country, the U.S. has been an expansionary republican empire; without this forward motion, civic bonds of domestic unity come into question. If Americans are not united for expansionary republican greatness, by what purpose Professor Paul asks, are all these fissiparous races, creeds, and cultures in America, bound together? (Woke culture has proved no solution, being divisive rather than any pole around which unity can be built).

The point here is that Russian Resilience, at a single stroke, shattered the plate-glass floor to western convictions about its ability to ‘manage the world’. After the several western debacles centred on regime-change by military shock-and-awe, even hardened neo-cons – by 2006 – had conceded that a weaponised financial system was the only means to ‘secure the Empire’.

But this conviction has now been upended – and states around the world have taken notice.

This shock of miscalculation is all the greater because the West disdainfully had taken Russia to be a backward economy, with a GDP on a par to that of Spain. In an interview with Le Figaro last week, Professor Emmanuel Todd noted that Russia and Belarus, taken together, constitute only 3.3% of global GDP. The French historian questioned therefore, ‘how then is it possible that these states could have shown such resilience – in the face of the full force of the financial onslaught’?

Well, firstly, as Professor Todd underlined, ‘GDP’ as a measure of economic resilience is wholly “fictional”. Contrary to its name, GDP measures only aggregate expenditures. And that much of what is recorded as ‘production’, such the over-inflated billing for medical treatment in the U.S.’ and (said, tongue in cheek) services such as the hundreds of economists’ and bank analysts’ highly-paid analysis, are not production, per se, but “water vapour”.

Russia’s resilience, Todd attests, is due to the fact that it has a real economy of production. “War is the ultimate test of a political economy”, he notes. “It is the Great Revealer”.

And what is it that has been revealed? It has revealed another quite unexpected and shocking outcome – one that sends western commentators reeling – that Russia has not run out of missiles. ‘An economy the size of Spain, the western media ask, how can such a tiny economy sustain a prolonged war of attrition by NATO without running out of munitions?’.

But, as Todd outlines, Russia has been able to sustain its weapons-supply because it has a real economy of production that has the capacity to maintain a war – and the West no longer does. The West fixated on its misleading metric of GDP – and with its normalcy bias – is shocked that Russia has the capacity to outpace NATO’s arms inventories. Russia was billed by western analysts as a ‘paper tiger’ – a label that now seems more likely to apply to NATO.

The import of the ‘Great Surprise’ – of Russian Resilience – resulting from its real economy of production vis á vis the evident weakness of the hyper-financialised western model scrabbling for sources of munitions has not been lost on the rest of the world.

There is old history here. In the lead-up to WW1, the British Establishment was concerned that they might lose the coming war with Germany: British banks tended to lend short-term, in a ‘pump and dump’ approach, whereas German banks invested directly in long-term real-economy industrial projects – and therefore were thought to be able to better sustain war materiel supply.

Even then, the Anglo élite had a quiet appreciation of the inherent frailty to a heavily financialised system for which they compensated by simply expropriating the resources of a huge Empire to finance preparation for the coming Great War.

The backdrop then, is that the U.S. inherited the Anglo financialising approach which it subsequently turbo-charged when the U.S. was forced off the gold standard by ballooning budget deficits. The U.S. needed to attract the world’s ‘savings’ into the U.S., by which to finance its Vietnam war deficits.

The rest of Europe from the 19th century outset had been wary of Adam Smith’s ‘Anglo-model’. Friedreich List complained that the Anglos assumed that the ultimate measure of a society is always its level of consumption (expenditure – and hence the GDP metric). In the long run, List argued, a society’s well-being and its overall wealth were determined not by what the society can buy, but by what it can make (i.e. value coming from the real, self-sufficient economy).

The German school argued that emphasizing consumption would eventually be self-defeating. It would bias the system away from wealth creation, and ultimately make it impossible to consume as much, or to employ so many. Hindsight suggests List was correct in his analysis.

‘War – is the ultimate test – and Great Revealer’ (per Todd). The roots to an alternative economic view had lingered on in both Germany and Russia (with Sergei Witte), despite the recent preponderance of the hyper-financialised Anglo-model.

And now with the ‘Great Reveal’, the focus on the real economy is seen as a key insight underpinning the New Global Order, differentiating it sharply in terms both of economic systems and philosophy from the western sphere.

The new order is separating from the old, not just in terms of economic system and philosophy, but through a reconfiguring of the neurons through which trade and culture travels. Old trade routes are being bypassed and left to wither – to be replaced by waterways, pipelines and corridors that avoid all the choke points by which the West can physically control commerce.

The north-east Arctic passage, for example, has opened an inter-Asian trade. The untapped oil and gas fields of the Arctic eventually will fill the gaps in supplies resulting from an ideology that seeks to end investment by western oil and gas majors in fossil fuels. The North-South corridor (now open) links St Petersburg to Bombay. Another component links waterways from northern Russia to the Black Sea, the Caspian and from thence to the south. Yet another component is expected to pipe Caspian gas from the Caspian pipeline network south to a Persian Gulf gas ‘hub’.

Look at it in this way, it is as if the neural connectors in the real economic matrix are, as it were, being lifted up from the west, and are being set down in a new location to the East. If Suez was the waterway of the European era, and the Panama Canal represented that of the American Century, then the north-east Arctic waterway, the North-South corridors and the African railway nexus will be that of the Eurasian era.

In essence, the New Order is preparing to sustain a long economic conflict with the West.

Here, we return to the ‘Egregious Miscalculation’. This evolving New Order existentially threatens dollar hegemony – the U.S. created its hegemony through demanding that oil (and other commodities) be priced in dollars, and by facilitating a frenetic financialisation of asset markets in the U.S. It is this demand for dollars which alone has allowed the U.S. to fund its government deficit (and its defence budget) for nothing.

In this respect, this highly financialised dollar paradigm possesses qualities reminiscent of a sophisticated Ponzi scheme: It pulls in ‘new investors’, attracted by zero-cost credit leverage and the promise of ‘assured’ returns (assets pumped ever upwards by Fed liquidity). But the lure of ‘assured returns’ is tacitly underwritten by the inflation of one asset ‘bubble’ after another, in a regular sequence of bubbles – inflated at zero cost – before being finally ‘dumped’. The process then, is ‘rinsed and repeated’ ad seriatim.

Here is the point: Like a true Ponzi, this system relies on constant, and ever more, ‘new’ money coming into the scheme, to offset ‘payments out’ (financing U.S. government expenditure). Which is to say, U.S. hegemony now depends on constant overseas dollar expansion.

And, as with any pure Ponzi, once ‘money in’ falters, or redemptions spike, the scheme collapses.

It was to prevent the world quitting the dollar scheme for a new global trading order that the signal was ordered to be promulgated, via the onslaught on Russia, to warn that to quit the scheme would bring U.S. Treasury sanctions upon you, and to crash you.

But then came TWO game-changing shocks, in close succession: Inflation and interest rates spiralled, devaluing the value of fiat currencies such as the dollar and undermining the promise of ‘assured returns’; and secondly, Russia DID NOT COLLAPSE under financial Armageddon.

The ‘dollar Ponzi’ falls; U.S. markets fall; the dollar falls in value (vis á vis commodities).

This scheme might be felled by Russian Resilience – and by much of the planet peeling away into a separate economic model, no longer dependent on the dollar for its trading needs. (i.e., new ‘money in’ to the dollar ‘Ponzi’ turns negative, just as ‘money out’ explodes, with the U.S. having to finance ever bigger deficits (now domestically)).

Washington clearly made a stratospherically bad error in thinking that sanctions – and the assumed collapse of Russia – would be a ‘slam dunk’ outcome; one so self-evident that it required no rigorous ‘thinking through’.

Team Biden thus has painted the U.S. into a tight Ukraine ‘corner’. But at this stage – realistically – what can the White House do? It cannot withdraw the narrative of Russia’s ‘coming humiliation’ and defeat. They cannot let the narrative go because it has become an existential component to save what it can of the ‘Ponzi’. To admit that Russia ‘has won’ would be akin to saying that the ‘Ponzi’ will have to ‘close the fund’ to further withdrawals (just as Nixon did in 1971, when he shut withdrawals from the Gold window).

Commentator Yves Smith has provocatively argued, ‘What if Russia decisively wins – yet the western press is directed to not notice?’ Presumably, in such a situation, the economic confrontation between the West and New Global Order states must escalate into a wider, longer war.

“Unpopular Culture”: Artist ‘Uncovers’ The Disturbing Behind-The-Scenes Of Popular Characters

Pop culture is always changing and never stops evolving. There are different movies, music genres, songs, and characters that shape our culture and they change every year, if not every month. However, certain characters stay with us for a long time. Like Disney, Pokemon, Dragon Ball, and many others. Artist Alex Solis decided to take these well-known characters and add a weird and even disturbing twist to them.

He calls this series “Unpopular Culture” and it will probably damage, maybe even ruin your childhood. However, if you like dark humor, puns, and unexpected twists, these comics are for you.

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27990135 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27990135 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a29408f4b 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a29408f4b 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27753ca2 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27753ca2 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2956df06 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2956df06 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a296ed745 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a296ed745 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a287c5525 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a287c5525 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a284d4e0e 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a284d4e0e 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a280e083a 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a280e083a 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a272d052a 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a272d052a 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a29e27731 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a29e27731 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a28a28c9c 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a28a28c9c 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27d39967 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a27d39967 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a26fe559b 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a26fe559b 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2c85580a 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2c85580a 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2c54b920 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2c54b920 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2bcb6a38 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2bcb6a38 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2b461467 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2b461467 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2af04a55 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2af04a55 880

This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2a45541a 880
This artist explores an alternate reality of iconic pop culture characters New Pics 6093a2a45541a 880

Stupid Cat Drawings On Daily Basis

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How to draw a cat? Easy! There are several cat drawing tutorials below and you can take bits and pieces from each of these tutorials to creatively design your own kitty cat cartoon.

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worst of tinder 16 63c7d4433d96a 700
worst of tinder 16 63c7d4433d96a 700

Declan Hayes
January 24, 2023
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At day’s end, gamers, streamers and forward looking companies and governments will choose Chinese technology over America’s technologically challenged bullies.

5G is fantastic for everyone who wants to video call, stream movies or play games online. Not only is it infinitely faster than what is currently out there but, according to this FAQ, it is entirely safe, just like all those Pfizer Covid shots people jacked up on. As 5G is also pivotal to the Internet of Things, which stands at the heart of the World Economic Forum’s plans for our future, it is all good.

There are, alas, several pertinent and inter-related problems with 5G. The first of these is that Chinese company Huawei is far and away the world leader in this field, with Finnish firm Nokia and Sweden’s Ericsson’s taking up the distant rear and with no other company, American or otherwise, in the race.

This is a problem as 5G’s technology is such that it allows the provider, Huawei, Nokia or Ericsson, pry into their customer’s business, should they so wish, and thereby give them a massive competitive advantage in that and other, related ways.

Because that is a situation up with which the CIA will not put, the U.S. true to form, has been intimidating all and sundry and warning them of the dangers China, their ultimate nemesis, presents. It was for this reason that Canada, one of the U.S.’ more despicable colonies, arrested Huawei CFO Meng Wangzhou and held her for four years, on the CIA’s orders, on trumped up charges before being forced to release her.

Quite why we should fear Chinese spying, when the U.S. are the world’s leading Peeping Toms spying, as they do, on friend and foe alike, is anyone’s guess. Ditto the great auto companies of Japan and Germany, who are no strangers to the U.S. stealing their technology; the U.S., after all, only first took off by stealing England’s industrial trade secrets and they robbed them of every military edge they had in the early stages of the Second World War. The American track record is such that the thieving magpie, rather than the bald eagle, should be their national emblem.

But, as our American friends would proclaim, all that was then and now is now. The U.S. feels that Nokia and Ericsson are no real problem as, if they cannot be intimidated into handing over their technologies, they can be bought off with a fat CIA check. But there is a problem with that. Although the CIA can write all the dud checks it likes, even for them, it is a case of caveat emptor, buyer beware.

Finland and Sweden are two relatively small American satraps run by coked up women who, for reasons best known to themselves, want to have an all-out war with neighboring Russia which, whatever its merits, would not do much for investor confidence.

Add to that the fact that both Ericsson and Nokia are multinationals which, whilst trying to retain Swedes and Finns as the key decision makers, are dependent upon international finance and huge armies of Indian engineers to stay in business. Those engineers are the jewels in the crown and there is no guarantee that India or some other nation might not entice them with a better offer and leave the CIA with nothing but redundant Finnish and Swedish executives, together with Greta Thunberg and a bunch of second-hand saunas full of coked up, war-mongering women to show for their efforts.

And then there is China, the literal elephant in hi tech’s room. One does not have to like China, approve of China or dis-approve of China but one must know what China is. China is a colossus that can throw 100 engineers at a problem for every one engineer its Scandinavian competitors can. They cannot be hemmed in.

Japanese companies warned Mitsubishi Heavy Industries (MHI) not to give China their bullet train technology but MHI went ahead, taught the Chinese, who proved to be keen students and keener engineers. Chinese bullet trains are now popping up globally, making the CIA look foolish as it plays at hack a mole, Chinese bullet trains and other Chinese advances to be more precise, such as those in 5G, which are popping up everywhere and showing the world there is an alternative to Pfizer, Coca Cola and the U.S. Marine Corps.

Although 5G conceivably should, like packs of cigarettes, come with a government health warning about the dangers of buying Chinese, there is a different and much more traditional way of looking at China’s technological advances. China, no more than Microsoft or any other CIA controlled Silicon Valley company, is merely a rent-seeker, instituting a 5G system that will yield it increased and steady dividends and, if Chinese prowess means the end of American hegemony, the CIA will have to accept that, just as the Romans had to accept their own demise by the death of a thousand technological cuts.

Though the U.S. Embassy in Tunisia can sponsor all the scary meetings on 5G it likes, at day’s end, gamers, streamers and forward looking companies and governments will choose Chinese technology over America’s technologically challenged bullies. And, taking the long view and irrespective of what negative externalities China’s ascent may bring with it, the fall of the American Empire has to be as welcome as that of all the other blood soaked empires that went before it.

Childhood Of Tomorrow: The Incredible Surreal Art Of Simon Stålenhag

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It does not take many words to describe the art of Simon Stålenhag, Swedish artist whose works speaking for themselves. Landscapes of a future perfect straight out from the covers of the sci-fi volumes, modern machines but not too rarefied spaceships, space poetry. But even dinosaurs found, nature (almost) pristine, the firm search through a great color palette of a surreal but true…

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Blackberry Cream Scones

Blackberry Cream Scones
Blackberry Cream Scones

Yield: 8 scones

Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 3 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 4 tablespoons butter
  • 2 eggs, beaten (reserve 1 tablespoon of egg white for brushing on top)
  • 1/3 cup whipping cream
  • 1 (16 ounce) can blackberries, well drained
  • 2 teaspoons coarse sugar

Instructions

  1. In a large bowl, stir together flour, baking powder, sugar and salt until thoroughly blended.
  2. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until mixture resembles fine crumbs.
  3. Stir in eggs and cream to make stiff dough. Turn out on a lightly floured board and knead lightly until dough sticks together.
  4. Divide dough into four parts. Roll each part out to make a circle about 6 inches in diameter and about 1/4 inch thick. Arrange 2 circles on an ungreased baking sheet about 1 inch apart. Spoon 1/2 the berries on each circle leaving about 1 inch all the way around. Cover with the remaining two circles and pinch around the edges to seal in the berries. Score the top of each round into quarters with a knife.
  5. Brush with the reserved egg white and sprinkle with coarse sugar.
  6. Bake at 400 degrees F for 20 minutes or until golden brown.
  7. Serve warm.

Some stories of mutation…

In the mid-1980’s, my wife and I were living in North Carolina. Were we worked for a spell at a factory that made a off-brand “smores” health food snack. There, we had befriended a couple, older than us, by maybe ten years. And we started hanging out with them, and drinking beer with them every night.

They owned a house in Mebine, and a farm outside of Vanciville. And I want to relate a little story.

At the farm, which was about 40 wooded, and hilly acres with a small cabin, and some old cars, was their dogs. They allowed these dogs to run freely over the farm, and they were a boisterous bunch. With perhaps one old dog named Maggie, and two Dobermans.

One of the Dobermans got pregnant, and had a gaggle of puppies. Perhaps 30 or so! I didn’t even know that dogs could have that many puppies, but there you have it.

Anyways, the puppies were roaming the woods and were going feral. They wouldn’t allow any of us to come near them, but at night, as we sat around the campfire, they would sneak up and steal food from our hands, and snap at our feet.

At this point they were starting to be large puppies, and were not controllable.

So one day, Tom (my friend who owned the property) with his wife Bonnie collected poisonous mushrooms from the woods. These were the large white mushrooms that you see often enough in the woods.

And, one day, as I came to the farm from work, we saw Tom take raw hamburger, and put a slice of the mushroom in the hamburger and threw the little meatballs to the puppies to eat. We (at that time) didn’t know what was going on. But we watched him feed all the puppies that way until all the hamburger was all used up.

Two weeks passed.

We forgot about that particular event. And life moved on.

One day we went to the farm, and when we arrived it looks like some kind of mass killing. Dead puppies were everywhere. Some on the hardened ruts in the road, some on the porch to the cabin. Some near the bases of tree. Some out in the open under the sky. Some near the stream, and some on the numerous rocks that lined the property.

Tom explained, after the massive clean up, that if he didn’t do something about the dogs now, then they would become a large pack of dangerous dogs, and aside from the personal headaches it would cause, it would also get his neighbors angry and a dog catcher and police would have to come to his property, and he did not want that. As he was a very private person, don’t you know.

I just remembered this story, as there are so many instances where it is important to take care of problems when they are small, instead of putting them off. Because if you do so, the problems can get worse, fester and turn into big bad problems.

let’s start with today’s posting…

Uh Oh . . . Chase Bank to Close Some ATM’s Outside of Business Hours in NYC (Crime)

New Yorkers looking for some last-minute cash to grab a midnight slice won’t have access to some Chase ATMs in New York City.

The bank announced this week that the around-the-clock ATMs will close at the same time as the branches, which is around 5 p.m. or 6 p.m., due to “rising crime and vagrancy,” the bank said in a tweet.

“Our apologies. We decide to close several ATM vestibules at 5 PM or 6 PM, aligning the hours of service to that of the normal branch hours, due to rising crime and vagrancy that occurred in these previously 24/7 vestibules,” the tweet said.

The lockdowns may be temporary, according to a Chase spokesperson. It remained unclear which locations would be affected by the shutdown.

“For the safety of our customers and employees, we may temporarily close some ATMs overnight,” the spokesperson said. “We can’t confirm how many ATMs are affected because it changes constantly.”

Some Chase customers were irked by the inconvenience and fired back at the bank’s announcement on social media.

“If ATMs aren’t available when the bank is closed, what’s the point??” an irate customer said in a tweet.

“Are you going to refund the ATM fees to customers when we get ripped off to use a bodega ATM to pay for our late-night slice of pizza because you can’t provide a basic service to account holders? I didn’t think so,” another customer tweeted.

The bank’s customer support service acknowledged in a tweet this would be an inconvenience for the company’s clients.

“I know this outcome wasn’t ideal, but your experience is still very important to us,” the customer support account said in response to one of the customers.

Hal Turner Commentary Opinion

This doesn’t look good on many levels.   First, the rise in violent crime in New York City is something I can attest to, because I live in the area.   The crime has gotten horrifying and I have repeatedly warned people to “stay away from New York City” because I perceive it is so dangerous.

So on its face, what CHASE Bank is saying, is truthful.  The crime is very bad.

Yet, I cannot shake this suspicion there is something ELSE going on.

I am of the view that Banks have been in very real trouble for quite awhile now, and I can’t shake the feeling that this ATM closure might be related to that.

Moreover, if the general public starts getting accustomed to no ATM’s at night, that’s just one more way to slam everyone by surprise if banks actually collapse in one fell swoop.

We ought to watch carefully over the coming weeks to see if other banks start doing this and if it starts happening in areas where there is little to no crime.   If the low or no crime areas start being shut down as well, then we have our answer about banks being in serious trouble.

EPORTS: Germany to ALLOW Leopard-2 Tanks to Ukraine

Reports are now coming in claiming Germany will ignore the Potsdam Agreement that ended World War 2, and allow German Leopard-2 Tanks to be transferred to Ukraine to fight Russia.

German Minister: Germany Won’t Object To Poland Giving Ukraine Leopard Tanks: Russians Whine

Ukraine’s supporters pledged billions of dollars in military aid to Ukraine during a meeting at Ramstein Air Base in Germany on Friday, though the new commitments were overshadowed by a failure to agree on Ukraine’s urgent request for German-made Leopard 2 battle tanks.

The issue appeared to move close to a resolution late Sunday when Germany’s top diplomat said her country would not object if Poland decided to send some of its Leopards to Ukraine.

French TV channel LCI posted clips from an interview with Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock in which she said her government has not received a formal request for approval from Warsaw but added “if we were asked, we would not stand in the way.”

Earlier Sunday, the speaker of the lower house of Russia’s parliament, State Duma Chairman Vyacheslav Volodin, said that governments giving more powerful weapons to Ukraine could cause a “global tragedy that would destroy their countries.”

“Supplies of offensive weapons to the Kyiv regime would lead to a global catastrophe,” he said. “If Washington and NATO supply weapons that would be used for striking peaceful cities and making attempts to seize our territory as they threaten to do, it would trigger a retaliation with more powerful weapons.”

A cool mutation

I have 2 lenses in my right eye, so it focuses like binoculars. My doctor wrote a paper about it. Mostly blinded as a baby in my left eye. Dr suspected my right lense split then healed as 2 distinct lenses. Better than 20/20 in my right eye.

Buckaroo Cornbread Casserole

2023 01 23 09 34
2023 01 23 09 34

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds ground beef
  • 1/2 green bell pepper, diced, or 1 jalapeno pepper, diced
  • 1/2 medium onion, diced
  • 2 cans Ro*tel tomatoes, drained
  • 1 can Ranch Style beans, seasoned pinto beans or chili beans
  • 2 packages cornbread mix*
  • 1 can cream-style corn
  • 1 cup shredded cheese of choice

Instructions

  1. Grease a 9 x 13-inch baking dish.
  2. Season the ground beef and brown along with the bell pepper and onion.
  3. Drain and add drained Ro*Tel and Ranch style beans (or pinto beans or chili beans). Simmer for 10 minutes.
  4. Mix both boxes of cornbread per directions. Add a can of cream-style corn to cornbread mix. Toss in shredded cheese and stir.
  5. Pour half of cornbread mixture into the bottom of the pan, cover with all of the meat mixture, top with more shredded cheese, then pour remaining cornbread mixture on top.
  6. Bake at 350 degrees F or until cornbread is done.
  7. Serve with a simple green salad.

Notes

* Use either regular or Mexican-style.

I have six toes…

What?

people sharing scary unsettling facts about themselves6 63c00b34e35a2 700
people sharing scary unsettling facts about themselves6 63c00b34e35a2 700

The Good, the Bad, the Mischievous: Cool Illustrations by Max Grecke

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Max Grecke is a Swedish freelance artist and master of 2D and 3D painting. Mostly Grek just draws funny cartoons and strikingly flamboyant and slightly crazy illustrations, but sometimes he takes on serious commercial work as well, as well as recording tutorials on Youtube.

Grecke’s style is truly New Year’s Eve – wild in its lines, motley in its colors, and invariably mischievous in general.

More: Instagram, Gumroad

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He holds his secrets close…

“From ages 6 to 14, I spent all of my time in a pitch black, cold and locked basement, only leaving for school and never letting anyone (outside the family) know.

About the Bolt

This is a weird one but I promise you, no b******t.

people sharing scary unsettling facts about themselves1 63bffc82d3e24 700
people sharing scary unsettling facts about themselves1 63bffc82d3e24 700

 

I had a metal screw/bolt roughly an inch and a half long stuck in my right lung from age 2-17. I must have put it in my mouth as a toddler and it got in got there somehow.

Anyway, The unsettling bit is that I always knew there was something seriously wrong with my body, because my whole life I would have instances in which I coughed uncontrollably, many times coughing up blood. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. But I never told anyone. Dad was neglectful and mom was always working, so it was relatively easy to hide. If it happened at school I’d excuse myself to the restroom until it stopped. No one ever showed concern those 15 years so I guess I kept it to myself well enough.

I never told anyone, because even as a small child I was very unhappy with life and wanted it to be over. I guess I figured my mystery illness would get me eventually, so I kept it a secret so I wouldn’t get treated.

It all came to a head at 17 when playing ball at the park with my parents, siblings, and some friends. I got a decent hit and ran around the bases when I started coughing. After sitting back down I tried to hold it in but I couldn’t… and this time it was too bloody to hide and no bathroom to go to. So my step uncle noticed after a minute or two, everyone is crowded around me while I’m coughing up a s***load of blood in and around a trash can. My little brother told me after that they actually sent guys in hazmat suits to clean it up because they didn’t know if whatever was wrong with me was contagious.

But anyway, got to the hospital got the X-ray which showed the screw lit up like Christmas imposed over my rib cage. Doctor guy just went “Well there’s your problem!” I guess he was trying to lighten the mood since everyone was understandably freaking the f**k out.

Two weeks of surgery, three total, and it was out. I still have breathing issues, but the cough is gone now. I made the screw into a necklace which I wear sometimes because I find it oddly comforting to be reminded of my own mortality. I know that’s weird but it’s just sort of how I am all things considered.

I never told my family I knew there was something wrong with me, because telling them would mean admitting to them that I wanted to die the whole time.

I still struggle with mental health c**p for this and many, many other reasons I won’t get into, but things are a lot easier than they used to be.

But anyway, if you actually took the time to read about my weird little life I appreciate your time and hope your day is pleasant.

Beef King Ranch Casserole

This is a beef version of a Texas classic developed by Chef Matt Martinez.

2023 01 23 09 33
2023 01 23 09 33

Ingredients

  • 5 1/2 cups shredded beef or fully cooked brisket (shredded) or fully cooked shredded beef
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 cup onion, chopped
  • 1/2 cup red bell pepper, chopped
  • 1/2 cup green bell pepper, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons fresh jalapeno, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon pepper
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 tablespoon chili powder
  • 12 ounces canned evaporated milk
  • 1 can Ro*Tel diced tomatoes and green chilies
  • 1 can condensed beef broth
  • 8 ounces grated Cheddar or Mexican blend cheese
  • 12 corn tortillas

Instructions

  1. Add oil to large heated skillet and sauté onion, peppers and jalapeno.
  2. Mix in all spices and cook until onion is translucent.
  3. Add milk, tomatoes and broth. Bring to a simmer. Remove from heat.
  4. Stir in beef and cheese.
  5. Cut tortillas into quarters and placed half into a greased 2 1/2-quart casserole dish. Top with half of the beef mixture. Repeat layers, ending with beef mixture.
  6. Bake at 350 degrees F for 30 minutes.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Money!

I inherited a lot of money from my grandmother about 2 years ago that no one in my family knew existed. I still don’t know where it came from, her lawyer wouldn’t tell me, but it’s in the upper 7 figures.

My father, her son, got the flat she owned and we all thought that was everything she had. Apparently it wasn’t but I havent told anyone about it and I dont plan on doing so either.

I just work a normal 8-5 desk job, rent a flat downtown of the City i live in (nothing expensive) and live a normal life on my own. No partner or children, no expensive vacations, I don’t even have a car lol.

I just don’t feel comfortable sharing this secret and the longer I keep it the stranger it would get telling it.

TLDR: I’m a millionaire because my grandmother died and no one knows about it.

Edit: I’m trying to answer to as many people as possible but as I said I still have a normal job so here are the answers to the most asked questions/Suggestions.

1. What do you want to do with the money?

I dont know yet, for now its safe where it is and I will either use it or invest it once I think its time. Maybe in a week, maybe never.

2. Can you give me X amount of money?

No, it wouldnt be fair to give it to one person and deny it another. I also dont really care about your tragic stories in my DMs, I read them and just get depressed so please dont.

3. Can I be “in your life”?

No I also dont want to adopt you/get to know you or be in a relationship with you (except for big tiddie goth GFs)

4. You have to invest in bitcoin/real estate/stocks/your friendly neighbourhood pyramid scheme!

No, f**k off.


I know most of you are genuine, nice people but I dont want your advice.  If this makes me sound like a douche I’m fine with that, it’s just a lot right now.

Nine year old boy

Less scary and more shocking, but when I was 9 years old I survived a home invasion where I was [injured] 6 times. I played dead on the floor until the man left and called 911 and in my adrenaline rush I thought they couldn’t find my house so I crawled with my left are swinging the wrong way and my right leg limp from nerve damage, all the way to the front door when he broke in from the back of the house.

I lived with only my mother who unfortunately didn’t survive. I vividly remember picking out the guy in a photo line up while recovering in the ICU.

I am very lucky to have kept my left arm, I have 32 pins and screws to make up for my shattered elbow. My left leg has permanent nerve damage and I now have “drop foot”. Despite my physical injuries and PTSD, I am doing very well.

Simple Illustrations Reveal Endearing Moments of Love in Life’s Everyday Moments

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Being in love with someone is more than just grand romantic gestures and celebrating milestones—it’s about the little moments, too. Illustrator Nidhi Chanani captures these small occasions in her endearing ongoing series titled ‘Everyday Love’. The charming images demonstrate that it’s the ordinary things that bring us closer to our partner, like cooking together, enjoying the sunset, and, of course, laughter. Each illustration acts as a reminder to appreciate all of them.

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Can see in the dark?

Not MM…

I have unusually good night vision, extra cones/rods (I forget which is for low light) which means I walk around in what other people consider complete darkness, able to see just fine. Add onto that I’m 6’10” and very large, basically a cryptid

Were Vikings in South America Over 400 Years Before Columbus?

Here is presented the widely dismissed account that probably sometime in the mid-11th century, Danish Vikings from Schleswig and the Danelaw (as ascertained from runic rock inscriptions) arrived at Santos in Brazil and proceeded inland to Paraguay. From a fortified hill near the Brazilian border, they occupied a defensive position for some part of two centuries, keeping watch on a nearby small mountain. It has been reported that in the 20th century, beneath the mountain under observation, was discovered a large area whose walls and roof are built of concrete unknown to science and cannot be opened but are believed to conceal a network of tunnels. The following unravels the story presented by just a few advocates, of Vikings in South America. Like so many of these tales, it needs further investigation to enable verification, but nonetheless, it provides food for thought.

The Vikings in South America

Academic historians generally do not admit the presence of European visitors to South America until after the arrival of Christopher Columbus. Therefore for them, all talk of Vikings travelling anywhere south of Nova Scotia before 1492 AD is not even hypothetical but pure fiction. In order to maintain this pretense, historians have found it necessary to discard what might be to others common sense and replace it with a preposterous theory. The best example of this is: The Case of the Bundsö Sheepdogs .

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image002 81

Were Vikings in South America before Christopher Columbus? Pictured: posthumous portrait of Christopher Columbus. (Sebastiano del Piombo / Public domain )

It was the custom of the pre-conquest Incas to be mummified with their dogs. A variety of dogs found in graves at Ancon, Chile, by Professor Nehring in 1885 was analyzed by two French zoologists in the 1950s who determined that this variety could not be descended from the wild dogs of South America. They matched them to Canis familiaris L.patustris Rut  of which numerous skeletal remains have been discovered, all at Bundsö on the Danish island of Als/Jutland.

The anatomical coincidence being deemed perfect, the difficulty then lay in accounting for how these Danish dogs got to South America before the Spanish Conquest . The French scientists got their heads together and decided that: “the Danish Vikings must have given some of their Bundsö sheepdogs to Norwegian Vikings who took them to Vinland. When the Norwegians were ejected from Vinland by the natives, the dogs must have been carried from Vinland to modern Canada where they must have been passed from hand to hand ever southwards by tribes which did not want them, involving travel by land and sea and then climbing mountains into Peru where they were adopted by the Incas.”

This nonsensical explanation was the only scientific theory available, that is, that would fit with the accepted history of the finding of the Americas. But if that account were wrong, a more common sense explanation might be that the Danish Vikings brought the dogs with them when they sailed to South America from Europe in the eleventh century.

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image003 89

 

Depiction of a Viking and his men heading to land. (Frank Dicksee / Public domain )

The Viking Protectorate in Paraguay?

In 1085 AD, King Knut II had 1700 ships for the “western expansion”. For the greater distances involved, a special type of woolen sail, which had been developed for greater speed and sailing much closer to the wind, as proved in experiments by Amy Lightfoot with the Viking Ship Museum, Roskilde. Strangely for Europeans so far from home in the 11th century, the Danish-Schleswig Vikings in this account seemed to know exactly where they were heading.

They came ashore at Santos, Brazil, found the path which had been long previously prepared, and made their way on foot to uplands located at Amambay, 25 kilometers (16 mi) south-east of the modern town of Pedro Juan Caballero in Paraguay.

The Cerro Corá is a ring of three small mountains five kilometers (3 mi) across. Three kilometers (1.9 mi) north of this ring is the mountain Itaguambype , which means ‘fortress’. Long before the supposed arrival of the Vikings, it had been hollowed out to make one, hence its name.

The anthropologist who investigated the area in the 1970s, Jacques de Mahieu, was a French – Argentinian anthropologist and leader of the Spanish neo-Nazi group CEDADE, who has proposed various Pre-Columbian contact theories, and claimed that certain indigenous groups in South America are descended from Vikings. Through his observations, he decided that, at some indefinite time in the past, the construction’s purpose must have been some kind of military observation post large enough for a settlement or a refuge.

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Cerro Corá national park in modern day Paraguay, the site where the Danish Vikings in South America were once believed to hold a settlement. (Christian Frausto Bernal / CC BY-SA 2.0 )

The low mountain Itaguambype lies on a north-south axis. It is two kilometers (1.2 mi) in length and one hundred meters (328 ft) high. The ex-fortress is a section cut off at the south end, 300 meters (984 ft) long with a 20-meter­-wide (66-ft) opening for access. The sides are of natural rock, a quarter of the way up from the ground with above it blocks of unequal-size, stone tailored to fit together perfectly smoothly in the manner similar to anti-earthquake walls in Peru and Bolivia.

Along the crest a 3-meter-wide (10-ft) flat path runs; at the southern extremity is a platform with the ruins of a round lookout tower raised 5 meters (16 ft) above the crest for a panorama of the entire territory but particularly Cerro Corá. The fortress would have been abandoned either in about 1250 AD, when a native rebellion succeeded in expelling the Vikings, or earlier, once it had served its true purpose.

Of additional interest in the area is the Norse temple at Tacuati excavated in the 1970s, and the fact that the total of engraved runic inscriptions in Paraguay runs in the thousands and exceeds that of all Scandinavia: 71 have been translated from the South American Futhorc dialect. One 5-letter runic inscription was found inside Itaguambype but has defied translation.

700 Years Later – Fritz Berger Investigates

Fritz Berger was a 50-year-old mechanical engineer, a native of what was then the Sudetenland. He admitted that he suffered mental disturbances from time to time. He wandered South America doing odd jobs, and during the War of the Chaco between Paraguay and Brazil in 1932-1935 served the Paraguayan Army in one of their workshops reconditioning captured enemy weapons. From 1935 until 1940 he stated that he prospected unsuccessfully for oil deposits in the Brazilian State of Paraná, but more likely in this period he gathered the information leading to the investigation which followed.

In February 1940, Berger crossed into Paraguay at the Pedro Juan Caballero border post and contacted the Army of Paraguay. Simply as a result of what he told them, they agreed to form a company with him known as Agrupación Geológica y Archaeológica (AGA). A clause in the agreement stipulated that the treasure trove was the property of Paraguay. The Paraguayan signatory was Major Samaniego, later the Paraguayan Minister of Defense.

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Major Samaniego of Paraguay pictured in 1948, the military official who helped Fritz Berger in his investigation of Vikings in South America . ( Public domain )

At the heart of this contract was the Legend of the White King of Amambay. The tradition relates:

 “In those days there reigned in this region a powerful and wise king called Ipir. He was white and wore a long blond beard. With men of his race and Indian warriors loyal to him, he lived in a community situated on the crest of a mountain. He possessed fearsome weapons and had immense riches in gold and silver. One day however he was attacked by savage tribes and disappeared for ever. That is what my father told me, who had heard it from his father.”

The reader should note here that King Ipir was never identified, and his followers “disappeared” and there is no suggestion that they were massacred.

Berger had a female correspondent in Munich to whom he wrote occasionally describing the developments in Paraguay, possibly for passing on to the German government, and copies of these letters passed into the possession of de Mahieu much later for inclusion in his book. In May 1940 Berger wrote to Munich mentioning that he knew of tunnels in the Cerro Corá area “130 kilometers long” (81 mi). By October 1941, he had drawn up a plan of the subterranean installations and sketches of four tunnels, including careful measurements but insufficient information to identify the locations of the various entrances.

The Mysterious Bald Mountain and Impenetrable Slab

On another day in 1940, based on mysterious information he probably brought with him from Brazil, Berger “happened to notice” a great rock forty meters (131 ft) in height in the direction ten kilometers (6 mi) south-south-east of Cerro Corá. The rock was in two parts and covered in dense vegetation halfway up. For this reason the natives called it Yvyty Pero  – “Bald Mountain”.

Berger’s secret reasons for wanting to dig there convinced Major Samaniego to set up a permanent military encampment with wooden houses within twenty meters (66 ft) of Bald Mountain, and he also renamed the range of hills “Cerro Ipir”. Once his sappers began excavating, to their surprise they reportedly found “a piece of gold in a triangular shape, which appeared to be the broken corner of a table” and “a walking stick with a gold head.”

After that the rainy season set in, impeding progress by flooding: the excavation was suspended once all explosives available could not damage a great slab of reinforced concrete encountered at the level of the mountain floor eighteen meters (59 ft) down. At this point, de Mahieu leaves us guessing what happened next in the year from “the end of 1941” until “the end of 1942” during which time the Third Reich became involved and appears to have agreed to send to Paraguay a special kind of pneumatic drill. We know this because in November 1942, US agents reported to their naval attaché at Montevideo the arrival of a German U-boat at the Argentine naval base of Bahia Blanca and this coincided with the unexplained visit there by Major Pablo Stagni, Commander-in-Chief of the Paraguayan Air Force, known to the Americans as the German agent “Hermann.”

Following this ‘coincidence’, according to Berger, in December 1942 work at Bald Mountain resumed. The Paraguayan sappers worked into the mountainside obliquely to connect with the vertical shaft. At 23 meters (75 ft), they encountered again the huge slab of concrete, which could not even be scratched by the drill or explosives and was now described as “a definitely artificial material harder than reinforced concrete and unknown to science.” After further attempts in 1944 were thwarted for the same reason, the excavation was abandoned. Fritz Berger died in Brazil in 1949. This part of Amambay is inaccessible today as a military area.

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Viking ship from the Ship Museum in Oslo. (Alex Berger / CC BY-NC 2.0 )

Conclusion

So, to tie together this theory, using legend, possible runic evidence, and Nazi involvement, long before the 11th century, the rich and powerful white king Ipir and his followers, unknown to the world’s historians, inhabited the crest of the mountain fortress Itaguambype. When attacked by an overwhelmingly superior force of natives, Ipir and his court retired to safety below Bald Mountain. Perhaps the Vikings were sent to Amambay later to protect and oversee the installation of the impenetrable concrete roof and sides over the portal below Bald Mountain.

What is interesting about this story is that all the main actors are hiding something. All academic historians and scientists, some knowingly, adhere to the apparent lie that no European reached southern America before Columbus in 1492. Therefore, “no Vikings could have been there”. Fritz Berger never revealed the source of his information about Bald Mountain and the network of tunnels extending cross-country from beneath it, but when he crossed into Paraguay from Brazil he knew for sure exactly where he was going and so did the Paraguayan Army.

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Depiction of the first Vikings arriving in the Americas. (Christian Krohg / Public domain )

The author, anthropologist/archaeologist Jacques de Mahieu, an outcaste from the scientific fraternity for having been an officer in the French Waffen-SS Division, perhaps revealed much ‘hidden history’, they would prefer he had not mentioned. Decades after the war, the SS oath he had sworn bound him, and there were still official German secrets with regard to which he was obliged to remain silent. Therefore in his book, he omitted any mention of the year 1942 and details of where the pneumatic drill had come from.

The Third Reich was in the middle of a major war, which it was already in danger of losing. Its outcome depended on the Battle of the Atlantic, yet they could spare a U-boat to detour to Argentina with a pneumatic drill for an archaeological dig in Paraguay. Probably they did not care two hoots for King Ipir and so their interest was in two things:

(i) They needed the tiniest chip of the reputedly impenetrable concrete roof and walls of the underground refuge for scientific analysis to obtain the formula.

(ii) They needed to know where the tunnel beneath Bald Mountain led? Was the mountain one of the portals into the Vril world or similar?

Yay for mutations!

I’m one of the lucky few with the CCR5-delta-32 mutation. Why is that relevant? It makes me immune to HIV and a handful of other pathogens, most notably the Bubonic Plague.

Beefy Cheesy Casserole

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2023 01 23 12 28

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 (28 ounce) can tomatoes
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 teaspoons honey
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • Black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 package egg noodles, cooked
  • 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese
  • 6 green onions, chopped
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 2 cups grated Cheddar cheese

Instructions

  1. Brown beef over medium heat. Drain fat.
  2. Add garlic to skillet and cook until soft.
  3. Add tomatoes, honey, salt, pepper, bay leaf and Tabasco. Lower the heat to simmer for 30 minutes.
  4. Combine the cooked noodles with the cream cheese, green onions and sour cream.
  5. Grease a 9 x 13-inch pan and alternately layer noodle mixture, tomato mixture and grated cheese, ending with the cheese on top.
  6. Bake covered, in a preheated 350 degrees F oven, for 30 minutes or until heated through and bubbly.

Notes

You can freeze this before or after baking.

Blacks without Soul and Repainted Disney Princesses

The end of the USD to pay for oil is destined to erode the value of it. So what this means is that there’s going to be some amazing global changes coming soon to all of us. The reserve currency status of the USD is coming to an end.

“…Xi stressed that the greatest truths are the simplest, and hard work is the key. 

The new journey is a long one full of glories and dreams where there is no shortcut, but hard work. 

We should come down to earth, work hard, and do not fall into fantasies or distractions. 

We should be honest and studious, respect the reality, do not act against rules or work recklessly. 

We should seek truth and be pragmatic, focus on actual effect, and do not make superficial work or show. 

Those who work will succeed, and those who walk will arrive at destination. 

A person of action will leave a good name in history. 

We created a glorious past with hard work, and we will create a better future in the same way…”

Have a great day, and enjoy this post.

Let’s start here…

https://youtu.be/G_IkJnTus6Q

Some Democratic Senators in the United States are questioning the need to sell nuclear submarines to Australia.

Interesting development.

This, as well as other actions, such as the war games about great losses over Taiwan, suggest a strong Democratic push to pull away from adoption of the Neocon anti-China narrative championed by Mike Pompeo, Tom Cotton, and John Bolton.

The excuses are rather weak, but present never-the-less. As such they are suggestive of a reordering of American force-projection.

KEY POINTS

  • Australia is expecting to buy at least eight nuclear-powered submarines under AUKUS
  • But two U.S. senators think a “sober assessment of the facts” is needed
  • It is the first time members have expressed significant misgivings about AUKUS
Two key U.S. lawmakers have expressed concerns regarding the supply of nuclear submarines to Australia under the troubled AUKUS trilateral pact, warning that the deal could stress America's shipbuilding capacity to a "breaking point" while ignoring "contemporary realities," according to Breaking Defense.

"Over the past year, we have grown more concerned about the state of the U.S. submarine industrial base as well as its ability to support the desired AUKUS SSN [nuclear sub] end state," Sens. Jack Reed, (D-R.I.), and James Inhofe, (R-Okla.), noted in a Dec. 21 letter sent to the White House, the outlet reported.

The trilateral AUKUS deal refers to the security pact for the Indo-Pacific region announced in September 2021 between the U.S. the U.K. and Australia. The key highlight of the deal is the sharing of highly sensitive nuclear submarine technology with Australia, enabling Canberra to receive American Virginia-class subs.

Article HERE

Illustrator Repaints Disney Princesses In Her Unique Style

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If you spend your days surfing the never-ending Instagram feed, you might’ve already heard of a freelance illustrator called Isabelle Staub, who rocked the platform with her fresh reimaginings of classic Disney Princesses. What you might not know, though, is that this series also helped the artist to get out of a serious creative block.

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Very cool discovery

2023 01 21 10 04
2023 01 21 10 04

Texas Chicken-Fried Steak with Cream Gravy

2023 01 12 19 05
2023 01 12 19 05

Ingredients

Steak

  • 3 pounds round steak, 1/2-inch thick
  • 2 cups all-purpose white flour
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 eggs
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • Vegetable oil (corn, peanut, safflower oil) for frying*

* Beef suet, lard or solid vegetable shortening are traditionally used for cooking chicken-fried steak

Cream Gravy

  • 1/4 cup pan drippings
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose white flour
  • 3 cups warm milk
  • Salt
  • Black pepper

Instructions

  1. Steak: Trim the fat off the meat, remove the bone and cut the meat into 6 equal-size pieces. Use a meat mallet to pound the steaks on both sides, until they are 1/4-inch thick. Then cut each pounded piece of steak in half (making 12 pieces total).
  2. Combine the flour, salt and pepper in a large shallow bowl. Beat the eggs and milk together well in another large shallow bowl.
  3. Dredge the steaks in the seasoned flour, coating them well on both sides. Then use the meat mallet to pound the flour into the steaks. Dip the steaks in the egg-milk mixture, then dredge them again in the remaining flour. Set the steaks aside in a single layer on a large piece of wax paper.
  4. Heat the oven to 200 degrees F.
  5. Pour the vegetable oil to a depth of 1/2 inch into 2 or 3 large heavy-bottom skillets (iron skillets are best). You will have to cook the steaks in 2 or 3 batches, depending on the number of skillets you have. Set the skillets over medium heat. The oil will be hot enough for frying when it pops when you sprinkle a few drops of water on it.
  6. Carefully put the steaks in a single layer in the hot oil and cook over medium heat until the bottom side of each steak is golden brown (about 7 to 8 minutes).
  7. Turn the steaks over, cover the skillets, reduce the heat to low and cook until the bottom sides are golden brown and the steaks are tender (about 8 to 10 minutes).
  8. Transfer the steaks to a heatproof platter, cover loosely with aluminum foil and keep them warm in the oven while you cook the remaining steaks and prepare the cream gravy.
  9. Cream Gravy: Pour the remaining oil out of one large skillet into a heatproof bowl or measuring cup, but leave in the skillet any particles of batter that stick to the bottom of the pan.
  10. Return 1/4 cup of the oil to the skillet and stir in 1/4 cup of flour. Cook for about 3 to 5 minutes over low heat, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom of the pan, but don’t let the mixture brown.
  11. Slowly add the warm milk to the pan, stirring with a fork or wire whisk to prevent lumps from forming. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the gravy is smooth and thick.
  12. Add salt and black pepper to taste.
  13. Serve the chicken-fried steaks with the cream gravy poured over them.

Yield: 6 large servings (2 steaks each)

Meticulous Miniature Handcrafted Meals

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When the sense of detail is pushed to its limits, it gives birth to incredible miniature works such as these diverse meals handcooked by Kimberly Burke and created at a scale of 1:12. On the menu today: chicken, bread, fruits, cake, fried eggs or fajitas.

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Discovery

2023 01 21 10 07
2023 01 21 10 07

Is The War In Ukraine About To Go To An Entirely New Level?

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If Russia intends to make a major move to win the war in Ukraine, it needs to do it very soon.

As you will see below, representatives from over 50 different nations will gather this week for a historic meeting in Ramstein, Germany.

The goal of that meeting will be to implement a plan to absolutely flood Ukraine with tanks and missile systems in an attempt to turn the tide of the war.  At the moment, the Russians have regained the initiative and the Ukrainians are steadily losing territory in eastern Ukraine.

The Ukrainians are hoping to buy enough time for the next massive influx of military aid to arrive, because it could potentially change everything.

Most of you have probably not heard about the meeting that will be held in Ramstein, Germany on Friday.  The following originally comes from the Wall Street Journal

Representatives of more than 50 countries supporting Ukraine are set to gather in Ramstein, Germany, to discuss provisions for Kyiv and pledge fresh supplies later this month. The U.S.-led assembly, known as the contact group, includes all countries in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and allies, including Japan, South Korea and Australia, offering lethal and nonlethal aid.

Ukraine is expected to receive Patriot missile systems, which Ukrainian officials say would hobble Russia’s missile attacks that have wreaked havoc on Ukraine’s civilian and critical infrastructure. Some Western officials also said that the first-ever shipment of Western-made main battle tanks could also be announced at the Friday meeting in Ramstein.

The only way that the Russians will be able to stop all of this equipment from getting to Ukraine would be to launch an enormous new invasion from the north that completely cuts off the flow of aid from the western powers.

Russia has been moving troops and equipment into Belarus for months, and many believe that such an offensive will soon happen.

And it is interesting to note that Russia and Belarus just initiated “a series of air-force exercises” on Monday…

Russia and its ally Belarus launched a series of air-force exercises Monday along the border with Ukraine in an effort to boost cooperation ahead of what Ukrainian officials and military analysts believe could be a fresh effort by Moscow in the coming months to retake battlefield momentum.

Throughout history, military exercises have often been used as a cover for major military operations.

But that doesn’t mean that the Russians will pull the trigger in this case.

Perhaps the Russians are just bluffing and are simply trying to hold a large number of Ukrainian forces along the northern border as the main push happens in the east.

At this point we just don’t know.

But many analysts in the western world do believe that the Russians will launch some kind of new offensive in the coming months

“The Kremlin is likely preparing to conduct a decisive strategic action in the next six months intended to regain the initiative,” said a note from the Institute for the Study of War, a U.S.-based think tank that publishes daily reports on the war in Ukraine.

Actually, I think that if the Russians are going to make a move it will happen soon.

When the mud returns in the spring, it will be much more challenging for Russian tanks to move around efficiently.

So if a major offensive is going to take place, it will almost certainly be conducted within the next several weeks.

Meanwhile, Russian television continues to be filled with talk of nuclear war

One of Vladimir Putin’s allies has claimed World War Three has already started as he called for Russia to launch a nuclear missile strike on Britain, France and Poland.

TV propagandist Vladimir Solovyov told Russians that Moscow should target the West to disrupt NATO countries from sending supplies to Ukraine.

You don’t hear this sort of talk on television here in the United States.

In fact, at this point most Americans still believe that the risk of nuclear war is extremely low.

But they see things very, very differently inside Russia.

These remarks by Solovyov were in response to reports that NATO powers are getting ready to ship large numbers of tanks and armored vehicles to Ukraine

It comes as Britain is poised to supply Challenger II main battle tanks to Kyiv, in the first such move of the war.

France is shipping French AMX-10 reconnaissance vehicles, Germany is sending 40 Marder infantry fighting vehicles, and the US is promising 50 M2 Bradley fighting vehicles.

Both sides just continue to escalate matters, and that has brought us dangerously close to nuclear conflict.

Earlier this month, Dmitry Medvedev made headlines all over the globe when he “threatened the United States of America with hypersonic cruise missiles”…

Former Russian president Dmitry Medvedev threatened the United States of America with hypersonic cruise missiles and compared the American government’s policies to that of Nazis in a Thursday Telegram post in response to a US embassy appeal to Russian citizens for peace.

“The main gift of the New Year was the arsenal of Zircon missiles that went yesterday to the shores of NATO countries,” said Medvedev, an ally of Russian President Vladimir Putin who currently serves as Deputy Chairman of the Russian Security Council.

The nuclear warhead-capable Zircon missiles were reported by Reuters Wednesday to have been placed on the frigate Admiral Gorshkov to be deployed to the Indian and Atlantic oceans.

By the way, we have absolutely no way to defend against those hypersonic cruise missiles.

If the Russians launch them, they will hit their targets.

If our leaders were sane, they would be trying to find a peaceful way out of this mess while there is still an opportunity to do so.

Sadly, that window is rapidly closing.

If the Russians launch another massive invasion of Ukraine from the north, there will be no going back.

Both sides will just keep escalating the conflict until someone crosses a line that will never be able to be uncrossed.

On Russian television, they are already talking about the inevitability of a nuclear conflict.

Unfortunately, most Americans don’t even realize that our leaders have us on the brink of the unthinkable.

Hopefully people will start to wake up before it is too late, because the clock is ticking.

https://youtu.be/2GZDsVzdQcI

Arrowhead

2023 01 21 10 09
2023 01 21 10 09

The trend to stimulate worldwide anti-American sentiment or enflame what already existed was evident from that first China/US undiplomatic summit in Alaska. It has been a steady slope down from there.

Original San Antonio Chili

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2023 01 12 19 03

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds beef shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 pound pork shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1/4 cup suet
  • 1/4 cup pork fat
  • 3 medium-size onions, chopped
  • 6 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1 quart water
  • 4 ancho chiles
  • 1 serrano chile
  • 6 dried red chiles
  • 1 tablespoon comino seeds, freshly ground
  • 2 tablespoons Mexican oregano
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  1. Place lightly floured beef and pork cubes in with suet and pork fat in heavy chili pot and cook quickly, stirring often.
  2. Add onions and garlic and cook until they are tender and limp.
  3. Add water to mixture and simmer slowly while preparing chiles.
  4. Remove stems and seeds from chiles and chop very finely.
  5. Grind chiles in molcajete and add oregano with salt to mixture. Simmer another 2 hours.
  6. Remove suet casing and skim off some fat.

Never cook frijoles with chiles and meat. Serve as a separate dish.

Alternative …

Ingredients
  1. Requires a blender and a dutch oven
  2. 2 each ancho and guajillo chiles, reconstituted
  3. 1⁄2 cup fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems 125 mL
  4. 2 tbsp pure lard or oil 30 mL
  5. 1 lb 500 g each trimmed boneless stewing beef and stewing pork, cut into 1⁄2-inch (1 cm) cubes and patted dry
  6. 2 onions, thinly sliced on the vertical
  7. 6 cloves garlic, minced
  8. 1 tbsp each ground cumin and dried Mexican oregano 15 mL
  9. Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  10. 1 serrano or jalapeño pepper, thinly sliced (optional)
  11. 6 green onions (white and green parts), very thinly sliced (optional)
  12. Crumbled Mexican cheese,such as soft cotija
Instructions
  1. 1. Transfer reconstituted chiles with liquid to blender. Add cilantro and purée until smooth. Set aside.
  2. 2. Meanwhile, in Dutch oven, melt lard over medium-high heat. Add beef and pork, in batches, and brown on all sides, about 2 minutes per batch. Transfer to a plate as completed and set aside. Reduce heat to medium.
  3. 3. Preheat oven to 325°F (160°C). Add sliced onions to pan and cook, stirring, until softened, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, cumin and oregano and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Return beef and pork to pan. Add reserved ancho and guajillo chile mixture and stir well. Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Bring to a boil. Cover and transfer to preheated oven. Bake until meat is very tender, about 2 hours.
  4. 4. Ladle into warm soup plates. Garnish with serrano pepper (if using) and green onions (if using). Sprinkle with cheese.
Notes
  1. To reconstitute dried chiles, remove the stems and place in a heatproof bowl. Add 2 cups (500 mL) boiling beef stock and soak for 30 minutes, weighing the chiles down with a cup to ensure they remain submerged.
  2. If you want to make a version of this dish that is similar to the one made by former U.S. President Lyndon Johnson, substitute venison for the beef. You can also cube a beef chuck roast and use it in place of the stewing beef.
  3. Moreover …
  4. The very first San Antonio chili contained neither tomatoes nor beans, making it reminiscent of some South American adobos. This probably isn’t surprising, because the “chili queens” certainly had Hispanic roots. This is my slightly amended version of the recipe that is held in the research library of the Institute of Texan Cultures.

Now You Can Touch A Niceballs To Relieve The Stress At Work

Imaginarte, the communications agency, has developed a prosthetic accessory that makes it possible. Holidays are the perfect excuse for doing the things that daily life normally gets in the way of: going to the same beach as every year, cremating steaks on the barby, taking up trekking without having a clue what that is, monging out watching a 9 hour monster session of that series you read the spoilers for months ago. Or simply sitting around playing with your balls.

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It doesn’t matter whether you have them or not. There are moments when we all, men and women alike, just need to play with our balls. So, what’s the problem? Returning to work after our much-needed holidays invariably means we just haven’t got the time for it.

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”Amazon Women on The Moon’ (1986) Deleted scenes & Bloopers.

Full movie. Enjoy!

Huge 1980’s hair, and some delicious Jamaican chicken

Been a cleaning up fireworks debris from the house porch, and tidying up for the new year. I’m tightening up things, sweeping and cleaning up things and working to settle a calmer life by clearing out the debris of the last.

Let’s all have a great new year!

Yay!

Politics back in the day…

Why talk to the dog, when you can talk with the master?

2023 01 21 10 39
2023 01 21 10 39

What Is It Like To Become Poor After Being Wealthy?

 

The global financial crisis destroyed me in 2008. The years immediately after were some of the worst years of my life. I lost everything; or at least I thought I did.

As it turns out, I didn’t lose much at all (assuming you don’t count approximately $3 million in real estate equity and a couple of hundred thousand dollars in cash, as “much”).

 

I was in Vegas when Lehman Brothers folded… It was my birthday … and it was the first time I’d ever lost big there. I should have known something wicked was coming, but I didn’t. So when my consulting contract didn’t get renewed, I didn’t panic. I kept doing business as usual. When my tenants defaulted on rent, I kept paying mortgages. A year later, I still had $50,000 plus in the bank … enough of a cushion.

I suppose at this time I should make you aware that I was not exactly a low-profile person. I was (and am) in luxury goods and hospitality, and I consulted with companies catering to high-net worth individuals. I helped them design sales and business strategies to keep their clients happy in the short and long term. Needless to say, the luxury sector was massacred, and is still clawing its way out of the muck and mire, at least in the United States.

So, with enough money to float for six to ten months, I kept looking for work in my field.

And looking, and looking … nothing.

Any kind of business consulting … nothing. (Six more months go by).

Any kind of sales … nothing. (Six more months … This was where it got scary).

Waiting tables, bar-tending, limo driving, grocery bagging … ANYTHING!

Nope.

Bear in mind that up until this point, I had never even gone a month without a job since I was 12 years old.

My confidence was shot – I mean decimated. I was a shell of the man I had been only two years previously.

I had the stink of failure all over me.

A friend of mine owned a couple of car-washes. He offered me a job. It was outside work, taking orders when people drove in to the wash. “Would you like the undercarriage done?”

It was winter in Colorado.

I declined.

I was sharing a huge house at the time with my best buddy and his new girlfriend, who became his fiancé, and we were ALL broke. It was brutal. I don’t think I would have made it without them. I was depressed and miserable. I’m lucky they didn’t bury me in a snow bank and leave me there. I’m sure there were times they wanted to.

“Cocky” doesn’t do failure well.

My buddy with the car-wash called again a few weeks later. I said no again. Not just because of the embarrassment. Not just because of the cold weather and the elements, or standing on my feet for 10 hours a day on concrete without Wi-Fi.

It was because of my father.

Almost every good father has a catch phrase that he uses to motivate his sons to do better than he did. Typically, it’s the threat of being stuck doing any minimum-wage job that no teenager from the Gekko era would ever aspire to. For some reason, the example that my father chose was “car wash”. We’d go through Towne Auto Wash after Little League and he’d always point to that guy who asks, “Do you want a regular wash, or deluxe?” and then hands you that little piece of paper.

“Mickey” He’d say. “You have to save some money/get better grades/quit chasing girls/do your homework. You don’t want to end up like that guy, working in a car-wash, do you?” The last time I heard the speech was around 1996. The words, however, hung in the air for years to come.

So, you can see my quandary. To me, working in a car-wash was the ultimate admission of failure. Not losing all my assets. Not selling my watches and cars. Not letting go of a few rugs and some art.

I was living with friends, driving a 17-year-old car, had less than $200 in the bank with no idea where the next $200 was coming from, and I was worried about being seen as a failure.

A little deluded?

Perhaps, but reality kicked in when I didn’t have money for a niece’s birthday present.

So I called my friend back and asked if I could still have the job at the car-wash. My utter failure as a human being was complete, my humiliation final -or so I thought.

On my third day of dragging myself in to work, the raven-haired stunner that I’d hired as my assistant five years previous pulled in – driving a brand new Lexus.

NOW my humiliation was complete.

There was nowhere to run, no place to hide.

And yet … just as I was about to die from shame, something happened that literally changed my life. She smiled, jumped out of her car, pointed her Louboutins right at me, ran over and gave me a hug. We chatted for about 10 minutes while her car was getting done. She said she was happy to see me, that I’d been a great boss, and that she was glad I was working. “Sooooo many” of her friends(able-bodied twenty-somethings) were unemployed, and at least I wasn’t trapped behind a desk.

I realized that I’d been beating myself up needlessly, and saw how lucky I truly was.

In that instant, I decided that instead of just showing up until I could find something better, I would use all my skills to increase my friend’s business, and I did. Over the next few months, something amazing happened to me. Something I never saw coming, and something that impacted my life and made me a better man.

I saw hundreds of people every day and none of them thought I was a failure, and it energized me. I smiled. They smiled back. I was happy and engaging, and I sold about a gazillion deluxe washes. But also, my worst fear morphed into something I started to look forward to. I got my confidence back, and it was obvious. I saw DOZENS of people I knew – clients, old customers, friends I’d lost touch with, and every single one of them said something positive.

They respected me.

They held me in higher esteem for seeing me in the cold, wearing a red nylon jacket with a car wash logo on it. Nobody made fun of me or called me names. Nobody laughed.

There was even an article in a local lifestyle magazine about me.

They respected me for doing what had to be done (I’m sure a few were secretly happy that I’d been taken down a few pegs … but hey, we’re all human, right?)

The truth of my situation was laid bare for the world to see … there’s no way to spin a story when you are asking people if they want the basic or deluxe wash. There’s no amount of charm of polish or bullshit that can hide the truth.

I was working in a car wash – and nobody thought I was a failure. Not even my father.

Then, about 6 months later, one of my old clients called. He needed some help setting up a new luxury club. We put a deal together and when I resigned from the car-wash, my friend was genuinely sad, saying I was the best employee he’d ever had.

I approached that new consulting contract with a vigor and zest for life I hadn’t felt for years! A few months after that, another contract took me to Asia, and I’ve been consulting over here ever since.

So, my worst fear turned out to be my salvation.

It gave me confidence, paid my bills for a while and put me in a position to move my company to Asia and have access to an abundance of new cultures and growing markets.

Sure, I’m not quite back to where I was that day 9 years ago in Vegas, but I have a red nylon jacket with a car wash logo on it that reminds me that for my version of success, I don’t have to be.”

– Michael Aumock

A very good video.

Its a dangerous time we are living in. On the one side, you have the US, who believes they are entitled to rule the world, for eternity. On the other side, you have rising China, Russia and India - China being the closest rival. The issue moving forward is whether the human race have learnt the lessons from WW1 and WW2. If we haven't learnt anything, then we are destined to repeat it, until all of us are destroyed. Lets hope sanity prevails and we find a way to co-exist and prosper, regardless of our differences.

Jamaican Brown Stew Chicken

2023 01 21 13 19
2023 01 21 13 19

Ingredients

Chicken Marinade

  • 3 1/2 Foster Farms Simply Raised™ Free Range Boneless Skinless Chicken Thighs
  • 1 teaspoon chicken bouillon powder
  • 1 teaspoon minced ginger
  • 1 teaspoon minced garlic
  • 1/2 teaspoon white pepper
  • 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon paprika
  • 2 green onions, diced

Brown Chicken Stew

  • 2 tablespoons canola oil
  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 2 teaspoons garlic, minced
  • 1 sprig fresh thyme
  • 1 teaspoon of hot sauce
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons paprika
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 2 teaspoons browning sauce
  • 2 tablespoons ketchup
  • 2 small red or green bell peppers, sliced
  • 1 to 2 cups water

Instructions

  1. Place chicken in a resealable bag and season with salt and pepper. Then add the chicken bouillon powder, ginger, garlic, white pepper, thyme, paprika and green onions. Seal the bag and thoroughly mix chicken until they are well coated. Set aside in the fridge and marinate for at least an hour or preferably overnight.
  2. When ready to cook, remove the chicken from the bag. Make sure to remove any particles like the onions and garlic so they do not burn when cooking.
  3. Heat a large pot with the oil over medium-high heat.
  4. Brown the chicken for about 3 to 4 minutes per side until chicken is a golden brown; remove and place on a plate. Drain any excess oil from the skillet but make sure to leave about 2 to 3 tablespoons of oil.
  5. Deglaze the pan with about 1 cup of water. Bring to a boil and return the chicken back to the pan. Add the second cup of water if you find there is not enough water.
  6. Cover and cook on medium to low heat for about 20 minutes, until chicken the chicken has cooked through and the sauce thickens, slightly. Adjust the taste adding more salt as necessary.
  7. Serve with Caribbean Rice and Peas or white rice.

Recipe source: Evs Eats

Very Interesting

2023 01 21 10 11
2023 01 21 10 11

Cuban Picadillo

cuban picadillo
cuban picadillo

Ingredients

  • 1 pound 90% lean ground pork
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 1 cup white onion, chopped
  • 2 cups new potatoes, cooked, cut into 1/4 inch cubes
  • 1 1/4 cups tomatillo salsa
  • 1 cup frozen corn, thawed
  • 1/4 cup cilantro
  • 1/4 cup queso fresco, crumbled

Instructions

  1. Heat olive oil over medium heat in a large skillet; add onion and sauté for about 5 minutes.
  2. Add ground pork, breaking into crumbles with the back of a spoon and turning frequently until browned on all sides.
  3. Add potatoes, salsa and corn; stir and cook for 10 to 15 minutes or until heated through.
  4. Fold in cilantro and sprinkle with cheese.
  5. Serve immediately.

WOW! Just . . . WOW! The truth comes out in Germany over Ukraine

A legislator in the German Bundestag addressed the House today regarding the effort to supply German tanks to Ukraine, to use against Russia.

Holy Sh*t did he strike a nerve; other Legislators openly gasped in horror!

Watch the 30 second video with translation below:

 

 

 

Cool discovery

2023 01 21 10 16
2023 01 21 10 16

The Point: Are China and the U.S. going down the rabbit hole?

Splendid Vintage Snaps Of Young Girls With Very Big Hair In The 1980s

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The 1980s can be categorized as a decade of excess. The new generation of young people placed a heavy emphasis on individuality, materialism and consumerism, all of which was reflected in the popular fashions and hairstyles of the time. As usual, the music, television and, for the first time, computer industries played a prominent role in determining what styles and trends took off across the country.

While certain hair styles, such as androgyny, voluminous locks, long hair on men and the Jheri Curl were all born during the previous decade, the looks became more exaggerated and more extreme during the 1980s. When it came to hair, bigger was always better.

In the mid-1980s, rising pop star Madonna also had big hair when posing for Time Magazine photographed by Francesco Scavullo. Soon, many women emulated her look, making her one of the most iconic celebrities in 1980s fashion.

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Chinese scholars…

2023 01 21 11 36
2023 01 21 11 36

thought I’d add this chart from PISA( program of International Student Assessment) to add some perspective.

the US isn’t even mentioned, that should tell you something.

main qimg ba7aba634a515d398b98691a36179ec4 lq
main qimg ba7aba634a515d398b98691a36179ec4 lq

Caribbean Roast Chicken with
Pineapple and Sweet Potatoes

caribbean roast chicken
caribbean roast chicken

Ingredients

  • 1 whole chicken, giblets and neck removed
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons Caribbean Jerk Seasoning spice mix
  • 3 fresh limes
  • 8 sprigs cilantro
  • 1 (20 ounce) can chunk pineapple, drained reserving 1/2 cup of liquid
  • 3 sweet potatoes, cut into 2-inch chunks
  • 1/4 cup dark rum (or chicken stock)
  • 1 cup chicken stock
  • 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. In small bowl, combine brown sugar and jerk seasoning. Rub mixture all over outside of chicken. Cut one lime into quarters; insert into chicken cavity. Add cilantro sprigs to chicken cavity. Place chicken in roasting pan and surround with pineapple chunks. Place in oven and roast for 45 minutes.
  3. While chicken is roasting, juice two remaining limes. Remove chicken from oven; add sweet potatoes, rum, chicken stock and lime juice to pan. Return to oven and roast for another 45 minutes to one hour, or until internal temperature in thickest part of the thigh reaches 180 degrees F.
  4. Remove chicken from oven and place on sheet pan. Tent with foil to keep warm. Remove pineapple and sweet potatoes from pan and reserve. Pour sauce in pan into serving dish; add chopped cilantro.
  5. To serve, carve chicken or place whole chicken on platter. Surround with sweet potato/ pineapple mixture and pass with sauce.

Japan building new island base to guard against China

Mageshima Island base will mitigate risk of a China attack on Okinawa and could eventually host US long-range missiles
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2023 01 21 11 13
2023 01 21 11 13

Japan has decided to start construction of a military base on Mageshima Island, a project that aims to reinforce Japan’s defenses in the nearby Ryukyu Islands and provide a backup airbase in case an enemy attack takes out Okinawa, according to multiple Japanese sources.

Mageshima, an eight square kilometer uninhabited island located 12 kilometers from inhabited Tanegashima Island, was chosen in 2011 as a candidate for relocating US field carrier landing practice, which is currently conducted on Iwoto Island, 1,200 kilometers south of Tokyo.

Construction work began last Thursday (January 12) and is expected to continue for four years, with reported plans to install two runways, a control tower and an explosives depot. Nippon.com mentions that apart from hosting US carrier landing practice runs, Mageshima will serve as a supply and maintenance hub for the defense of the Nansei Islands.

Asia Times has noted the strategic importance of small islands, as they have a “suction effect” on great powers because they can be logistics staging points, protective barriers, forward operating bases and geographical markers to extend maritime claims.

Mageshima is no exception. In a March 2022 newsletter for the Taiwan-based think tank Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR), Yen Hung-Lin underscores the island’s strategic importance.

Yen notes that Mageshima is located northeast of the Ryukyu Islands, which China’s naval vessels must pass through to reach the Pacific Ocean. He also says that Mageshima is an uninhabited island, which reduces concerns about aircraft noise and safety.

Furthermore, Yen mentions that Mageshima has flat terrain, which makes airfield construction easier. Moreover, Yen notes that the Japanese Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) only have a limited number of bases in the Nansei Islands and that the completion of Mageshima will enable Japan and the US to conduct a defense in depth against China.

2023 01 21 11 14
2023 01 21 11 14

Japan’s plans to set up Mageshima as an island airbase may also be part of a larger military strategy. In an April 2022 article for Foreign Policy Research Institute (FPRI), Felix Chang notes that Japan’s island bases point toward a strategy intended not only to stop China from taking over the Senkaku Islands but also to frustrate its larger naval ambitions.

Asia Times has previously reported on Japan’s plans to base long-range cruise missiles on its Southwest Islands and Kyushu to improve its counter-strike capabilities against China. Given that, Japan may also opt to base long-range missiles on Mageshima.

Meanwhile, the US may seek to place its long-range missiles on Mageshima. Asia Times has reported on US plans to build a “missile wall” in the First and Second Island Chains.

This strategy is based on the perceived advantages of land-based missile launchers, which include increased survivability compared to ship-based systems, the ability to provide a constant presence in contested areas, and an attack on land-based missile launchers on allied territory marks a significant escalation of hostilities.

The joint Japan-US basing project on Mageshima also likely aims to reinforce the US basing posture in the Pacific. In an April 2021 article for War on the Rocks, Wallace Gregson and Jeffrey Hornung note that Japan is no longer the sanctuary it was for US forces, as China and North Korea have developed long-range strike capabilities and satellite surveillance technologies that threaten US and allied forces stationed in the region.

An October 2022 documentary by ABC News shows that in the event of a Taiwan-China war, China would most likely initiate a pre-emptive missile strike on the military base at Okinawa, aiming to destroy US and Japan airpower on the ground.

Given that threat, Gregson and Hornung note that the US must harden its facilities against attack, disperse and distribute forces across a wider area and improve missile defense capabilities. Thus, the Japan-US base on Mageshima may be a logical step in that direction.

However, some parties have expressed reservations over military construction at Mageshima. In an August 2021 editorial, The Asahi Shimbun mentions that noise from military activity on Mageshima will impact daily life on nearby islands.

In addition, the editorial notes that construction work will significantly impact water quality, marine life and fisheries around the area, depending on whether the project will involve land reclamation.

It also says that the Japanese Ministry of Defense (MOD) has withheld concrete details about the project and only released an environmental assessment on January 12.

The Mainstream Media Admits That We Are Facing “The Worst Food Crisis In Modern History”

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People on the other side of the planet are dropping dead from starvation right now, but most people don’t even realize that this is happening.  Unfortunately, most people just assume that everything is fine and dandy.  If you are one of those people that believe that everything is just wonderful, I would encourage you to pay close attention to the details that I am about to share with you.  Global hunger is rapidly spreading, and that is because global food supplies have been getting tighter and tighter.  If current trends continue, we could potentially be facing a nightmare scenario before this calendar year is over.

Pakistan is not one of the poorest nations in the world, but the lack of affordable food is starting to cause panic inside that country.  The following comes from Time Magazine

Last Saturday in Mirpur Khas, a city in Pakistan’s Sindh province, hundreds of people lined up for hours outside a park to buy subsidized wheat flour, offered for 65 rupees a kilogram instead of the current, inflated rate of about 140 to 160 rupees.

When a few trucks arrived, the crowd surged forward, leaving several injured. One man, Harsingh Kolhi, who was there to bring a five kg bag of flour home for his wife and children, was crushed and killed in the chaos.

We are seeing similar things happen all over the planet.

Just because you still may have enough food to eat doesn’t mean that everybody else is okay.

In fact, things have already gotten so bad that even CNN is admitting that we are facing “the worst food crisis in modern history”

Yet the world is still in the grips of the worst food crisis in modern history, as Russia’s war in Ukraine shakes global agricultural systems already grappling with the effects of extreme weather and the pandemic. Market conditions may have improved in recent months, but experts do not expect imminent relief.

That means more pain for vulnerable communities already struggling with hunger. It also boosts the risk of starvation and famine in countries such as Somalia, which is contending with what the United Nations describes as a “catastrophic” food emergency.

Sadly, it isn’t just in Somalia where the food crisis has reached “catastrophic” proportions.

According to Reuters, the entire continent is now dealing with the worst food crisis that Africa “has ever seen”…

Across Africa, from east to west, people are experiencing a food crisis that is bigger and more complex than the continent has ever seen, say diplomats and humanitarian workers.

Please go back and read that statement again.

Do you remember all those years when Sally Struthers was begging us to feed the starving children in Africa?

Well, the truth is that conditions are now far worse than when she was making those commercials.

At one hospital in Somalia, grieving mothers are regularly bringing in very young children that have literally starved to death

“Sometimes mothers bring us dead children,” said Farhia Moahmud Jama, head nurse at the paediatric emergency unit. “And they don’t know they’re dead.”

Weakened by hunger, camp residents are vulnerable to disease and people are dying due to a lack of food, said Nadifa Hussein Mohamed, who managed the camp where Isak’s family initially stayed.

“Maybe the whole world is hungry and donors are bankrupt, I don’t know,” she said. “But we’re calling out for help, and we do not see relief.”

UN officials are doing what they can to help, but the truth is that they are being absolutely overwhelmed by the scope of this crisis.

Over the past 12 months, the number of Africans that are dealing with “acute food insecurity” has absolutely exploded

The number of East Africans experiencing acute food insecurity – when a lack of food puts lives or livelihoods in immediate danger – has spiked by 60% in just the last year, and by nearly 40% in West Africa, according to the World Food Programme (WFP).

Sadly, a lot of Americans are simply not going to care about what is going on over there as long as we have enough food over here.

Of course food supplies continue to get tighter on our side of the planet as well.

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, our corn harvest this year was the smallest in 15 years

Last year was a bad year for corn — the latest US Department of Agriculture (USDA) report shows drought conditions and extreme weather wreaked havoc on croplands.

USDA unexpectedly slashed its outlook for domestic corn production amid a severe drought across the western farm belt. Farmers in Nebraska, Kansas, and Texas were forced to abandon drought-plagued fields.

The agency estimated farmers harvested 79.2 million acres, a decline of 1.6 million acres versus the previous estimate — the smallest acres harvest since 2008.

That wouldn’t be so bad if our population was still the same size that it was back in 2008.

Other harvests have been extremely disappointing too, and that is one of the factors that has been steadily driving up food prices.

At this point, the average U.S. household is spending 72 more dollars on food per month than it was at this same time a year ago…

As inflation continues to decimate the budgets of American families, the December report from Moody’s Analytics showed that families are spending an estimated $72 more on food per month than they were a year ago.

That figure is pulled out of a report that says the typical US household is shelling out $371 on goods and services more than they were a year ago.

In particular, the price of eggs has gone completely nuts.

I recently came across an article about one small business owner that is now paying three times as much for eggs as she once did…

It just seems like the cost of everything is going up these days and that includes egg prices, which are affecting local businesses. “We used to buy 15 dozen eggs from Sam’s for 23 dollars. They are now 68 dollars,” said Cindy Gutierrez, the owner of Creative Cakes. “Now it’s about 63-ish for 15 dozen and it’s also hard to get 15 dozen,” said Caitlyn Wallace, the owner of Catie Pies.

The prices for eggs have surged three times their original price. According to the consumer price index, egg prices increased by 10% in October 2022 and that increase has continued to rise. This is causing a domino effect for restaurants, businesses, and bakeries who use eggs.

Economic conditions are changing so rapidly now, and nothing will ever be quite the same again.

As we move forward, the widespread use of “beetleburgers” is one of the “solutions” that the global elite are starting to push

Beetleburgers could soon be helping to feed the world, according to new research. The creepy crawlers’ larvae — better known as mealworms — could act as a meat alternative to alleviate hunger worldwide. The process uses a fraction of the land and water and emits a smaller carbon footprint in comparison of traditional farming.

To make this a reality, French biotech company Ynsect is planning a global network of insect farms, including nurseries and slaughterhouses. A pilot plant has already been been set up at Dole in the Bourgogne-Franche-Comte region of France.

Doesn’t that sound yummy?

Of course these “beetleburgers” will just be a drop in the bucket.

No matter what the global elite try, they will not be able to stop “the worst food crisis in modern history” from getting a whole lot worse.

So I would encourage you to stock up while you still can.

Global food supplies are getting a little bit tighter with each passing day, and I have a feeling that 2023 will have lots of “unexpected surprises” for all of us.

Helmet

2023 01 21 10 12
2023 01 21 10 12

These Fairytale Felted Houses For Cats Are A Must Have

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It’s likely that if you’re a cat owner your feline companion(s) will have a favorite bed, house or spot to sit, sleep and play in. If you feel that maybe their existing love spot is getting a bit tattered and battered, and your cat wouldn’t be traumatized by a replacement, maybe you might be interested in upgrading to one of these awesome fairytale houses! Created by Yuliya Kosata from Ukraine, the felted houses come in a huge range of designs and color schemes. Take a look below to find out more and see what you think!

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Three hours of real-deal madness. Jesus H. Christ!

https://youtu.be/B2WVEla34Tk

China don’t need any help. First China will do everything the U.S. do. It if invade China. Then China would invade the US. It will reciprocate equally. You kill a million Chinese they will kill a million Americans. You drop a nuke in Shanghai they will drop a nuke in New York.

They will wiped off all the 12 aircraft carriers within a day. Everywhere in the world. If the bomber comes from Japan. God help Japan. There are at least a hundred and fifty countries out of the 195 nations that will volunteer to do shit on US, UK and its fellow parasite nations.

But China need no one.

3 Women Describe What’s It Like To Be Ugly In A Superficial World

1. I’m not a pretty woman and it shows in everyday life and it hurts.

As much as being hit on and catcalled is scary and I’m SO sorry to those it happens too, I get the opposite. All I ever see are posts on being catcalled and I just wanna talk about my experiences. I get moo’d at and barked at like a dog and vomit noises. We have a creepy old regular where I work that’s calls all the girls beautiful but is disgusted by me and has made negative comments on my appearance and literally told me to get out of his field of vision.

People act super awkward and their eyes dart all over the place trying to avoid making eye contact when I talk to them. Other times people are just straight up MEAN and dismissive of me, but treat everyone else with respect.

I’ve been bullied and called ugly my whole life. Ever since I was 5 years old. Kids singled me out and were mean, and even the moms in my Girl Scout troop treated me differently.

I remember in high school these two guys were sitting behind me and one just loudly asked the other if he would fuck me. The answer was a loud resounding “HELLLLL NAWWWW.” Of course if the answer had been the opposite, anyone would be creeped out and feel unsafe, but this moment still sticks with me and hurts for some reason.

I’m physically in shape now but my face is just fucking weird. It’s so unsymmetrical and disproportionate and you can see every single little blood vessel in my face and I have genetic dark circles I can’t seem to conceal. Even with regular dentist appointments and good dental hygiene, I just have shit teeth that crack and break. My forehead is huge and I have a double chin that won’t go away and my eyebrows are wildly different from each other. My nose has been broken twice so you can only imagine what that looks like now.

I don’t take selfies. I hate pictures of myself and even still it hurts how friends and family don’t want to take any pictures with me. I do have a son and the whole reason I spiraled into typing this post was I have a photographer friend who offered to do valentines portraits of me and my son as a gift. I accepted FOR MY SON, not for me, and I’m not looking forward to it and it’s making me so sad. Every picture I see of myself I get super depressed.

I have good hygiene. I bathe and smell good. I dress nice. I AM nice. But the few friends I have and even my mother have admitted I’m not exactly the most attractive woman so that just confirms everything else.

I’m sorry for this post and I don’t mean to invalidate anyone else’s feelings or experiences. I just really wanted to rant.

2. I’m ugly. I know I’m ugly. I have known that I am ugly since I was twelve years old.

Before then I thought I was simply fat, and that when I lost all that fat, that I would be beautiful and valuable. When I was twelve I lost two stone, and realised I was simply, irretrievably, ugly.

My most prominent feature is my long, hooked, nose. My eyes are tiny and so close together I can only use children’s glasses. I am twenty one and still constantly get large, red spots.

My hair is a thick, brown mess of frizz. I have a wide ribcage and broad hips, which leave me with a very broad figure no matter how much weight I lose. I have very small breasts, which, coupled with my wide hips leave me perpetually pear-shaped.

To top it all off I am tall, 5′ 10″ in stocking feet, so there is never an option of blending into the crowd. I am always seen, and always ugly.

The world of an ugly woman is different to that of a beautiful woman in so many ways I could not begin to explain it all. I can, however, briefly sketch the strange differences I have observed between how society treats ugly women, and how society treats beautiful women.

My sister is beautiful. I have many beautiful friends. I live in the same world as beautiful women. I am not one of them. They are celebrated, remembered, asked after. People are good to beautiful women, even when beautiful women are indifferent, hostile or even cruel in return. People remember my sister’s name and instantly forget me. When we are introduced to new people together, nine times out of ten if I meet that person again they will immediately ask where my sister is, how she is, what she is doing. I am never asked about myself and she is never asked about me.

My beautiful friends are photographed by friends and acquaintances. I am silently left out of the records of social events. I am erased from history because I am too ugly to be photographed. Strangers compliment my sister and my friends, strangers insult and ridicule me.

Men might think that perhaps they live in the same world that I do, but they don’t. Even ugly men live in a different world to me. I have never seen, or heard of, a man experiencing the same level of public condemnation for their looks that I have faced. The most recent example I can think of is the man who stopped in the street last week to tell me that I shouldn’t be wearing tinsel on my head like my friends (we were going for Christmas drinks) because I was so ugly. This is not rare for me and this is not new. This has been my life since I was a young teenager.

When I see discussions about catcalling I want to scream at the people who tell women that they should be complimented. What should I do when someone yells at me, unprovoked, that I am an ugly minger? I know I am ugly. There is literally nothing I can do about it. I’m trying my best already!

There is hope for ugly men in popular culture. We celebrate the story of the ugly, or at least not conventionally attractive male, who finally gets his, inevitably beautiful, female crush to realise how much he is worth on the inside and how worthy he is of her love. That story never happens in reverse. There are just no famous actresses that are anything other than conventionally beautiful.

Nobody writes books about ugly women. No one makes films or plays, or songs or art of any sort about ugly women. In fact, we’re not there at all. In popular culture, and culture stretching back as far as human memory goes, ugly women are not there. We don’t exist and nobody talks about us. Beautiful women are the only women we see or hear about, and most crushingly, the only women we remember. The ugly ones, no matter what they do, seem to be simply invisible. Invisible or evil and bad.

We shouldn’t be surprised by this, though, we tell children stories of the good, beautiful princess and the evil, ugly witch. We make this happen.

I am ugly. I will not be remembered. I will never be the protagonist of any story told. I hate being ugly. I hate myself. The end.

3. Every morning when I wake up, I want to go back to sleep. Not because I’m tired, but because I can’t face the world like this. I dress myself up as best as I can manage, and I do my hair by physical memory. I avoid the mirror.

Whenever I look in the mirror, I want to throw up. I want to rip my eyes out and never see again. I wish I could go to the store and return the parts of my face. Tell them: “This wasn’t what I ordered. I need a refund”. Get a replacement and finally love myself.

It’s hard to love yourself when no one loves you. A guy asks you out because of a dare. Just when you think you finally got someone to like you, they laugh at you and call you names. “Squidward”, “witch without the wart”, “forehead higher than my grades”, stuff you wish was a joke. It never is.

I have a crush now. We talk all the time. Sometimes about life, sometimes about our hobbies, sometimes about nothing really. I would definitely say we’re close. When I confessed, I admit I was kind of hopeful. I thought ‘maybe this time will be different. Maybe he would at least consider it’….But of course I was rejected. He wants his beautiful friend, not me. That kind of stuff always happens when you’re ugly. I couldn’t get someone to go out with me if I paid them.

See, as a woman, it doesn’t matter what other merits you have. It doesn’t matter that I’m a hard worker, people seem to think I’m funny, and I have some of the best grades in my entire school. It doesn’t matter that I read and research topics for a better understanding, and that I like having conversations about them. It doesn’t even matter that I have many skills. I’m ugly, therefore I am worthless. I’m ugly, so no one will ever want to date me.

When you’re ugly, you start considering the options. You look to plastic surgery because you know it’s the only way out. But plastic surgery is uncomfortable, it’s expensive, and it might not even work. God dammit.

I don’t believe in god, but I’m starting to think I should. Maybe some magical space man can make my face beautiful. Maybe some fairy in the sky can get someone to love me. Then I’d be happy. Even if it’s just for a little while.

A very realistic analysis of our global economy.

All empires eventually collapse. This has been proven throughout history.

America’s time has come.

The reasons are manifold:

  • Internal political corruption, mostly from runaway capitalism.
  • Massive national debt, currently at over $30 trillion.
  • Endless money printing which is unsustainable.
  • Extreme economic inequality which is causing massive discontent among the population.
  • Over-reliance on global militarism which causes enormous financial strain.
  • Numerous domestic issues such as gun violence and mass shootings, systemic racism, mass incarceration, homelessness, unaffordable health care, etc.
  • Loss of credibility around the world, for example, most countries refuse to follow USA’s sanctions against Russia, OPEC refuses to increase oil production at USA’s request, SE Asia refuses to join USA in a coalition against China, and so on.
  • BRICS is creating an alternative reserve currency to the US Dollar. That means no more sanctions.

Discovery

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2023 01 21 10 14

Polar Bear Kills Two In Alaska Village

A polar bear killed a woman and boy Tuesday afternoon in the Northwest Alaska community of Wales, according to Alaska State Troopers.

Troopers received a report of a polar bear attack around 2:30 p.m., troopers said in an online report. According to initial accounts, a polar bear came to the village and chased several residents, troopers said.

The bear killed a woman and a boy, troopers said. Another Wales resident shot and killed the bear “as it attacked the pair,” troopers said.

The two people who were killed in the mauling weren’t identified in the report, and troopers said officials are working to notify their next of kin.

Austin McDaniel, a spokesman for the Alaska Department of Public Safety, said troopers are coordinating with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game as they try to send personnel to Wales as soon as the weather allows.

Wales — a predominantly Inupiaq village of fewer than 150 people — is located on the far western edge of the Seward Peninsula bordering the Bering Strait, just over 100 miles northwest of Nome.

In winter, polar bears can be found as far south as St. Lawrence Island, occasionally traveling even farther south, according to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Subsisting primarily on a diet of marine mammals, males can grow to be up to 1,200 pounds, females up to 700 pounds, with no natural predators beyond humans.

Fatal polar bear attacks are extremely rare in Alaska. In 1990, a polar bear killed a man in the North Slope village of Point Lay. Biologists later said the animal showed signs of starvation. In 1993, a polar bear burst through a window of an Air Force radar station on the North Slope, seriously mauling a 55-year-old mechanic. He survived the attack.

Escape Into The Glass Rivers And Lakes Of These Beautiful Wood Tables

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If getting lost in a coffee table sounds improbable, you may change your mind once you see these beautiful furnishings. Artist and designer Greg Klassen transforms reclaimed wood into mesmerizing works of art embedded with glass rivers and lakes. Klassen’s newest works include a variety of coffee tables of different sizes and shapes, as well as wall hangings.

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What a find!

2023 01 21 10 15
2023 01 21 10 15

Overworked Employee Quits Because He Wasn’t Getting A Fair Wage, Costs The Company $40 Million

“The Trains of Silence” (1965)

Just discovered this fabulous series.

Great scripts. Famous actors. Tight direction. Great settings. Luscious color. Way ahead of any thing today.

Tin foil hat cats and global war

Smile and have a great day!

Seeing a soldier frozen in time like this is truly insane. The stories these items tell, so interesting.

Funny and true

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2023 01 17 14 51

BOOM! Saudi Arabia Announces End of US Petro Dollar

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia announces that they officially are open to settling trade for Oil and Natural Gas in currencies other than the US dollar.

Watch what happens this year! -MM

Roast Pork a la Criolla (Puerto Rico)

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Criolla (also known as Creole throughout Latin America) refers to the first generation born in a new country. This dish was probably fixed by the first generation of Spanish born in Puerto Rico, using oregano which was brought to the islands from the Mediterranean. This pork roast is traditionally made with fresh ham.

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) boneless pork single loin roast or boneless fresh ham roast (inside round), netted or tied
  • 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 6 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 1 teaspoon oregano
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon salt

Instructions

  1. In a small bowl, mix together all seasonings, then rub this mixture on all surfaces of the pork roast.
  2. Place roast in shallow pan and roast at 350 degrees F for 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until meat thermometer inserted reads 160 degrees F.
  3. Remove roast from oven; let rest 5 to 10 minutes before slicing to serve.

Serves 8.

The Swiss City That’s Full of Cat Ladders

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Imagine, if you will, what it’s like to be an average cat. You live with your owner on the fourth floor of an apartment building and, like so many of your fellow felines with exposure to the outside world, you have a fierce case of wanderlust.

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In most parts of the world, you’d be stuck at home until someone comes and lets you out. But in certain European countries, human residents have built outdoor climbing aids, called cat ladders, to help their feline friends come and go as they please.

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Homemade cat ladders are as architecturally eclectic as they are charming.

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Despite their whimsical photogeneity, cat ladders haven’t yet been thoroughly documented. The graphic designer and writer Brigitte Schuster aims to change that. She had spotted the occasional cat ladder in her native Germany, but it wasn’t until she moved to Bern, Switzerland, six years ago that she realized how popular they were.

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9 People Reveal What It’s Like To Wake Up In The Middle Of Surgery

 

1. This happened to me and it was the most horrifying experience that i will remember for the rest of my life! It all started when my husband and I had been the victims of a terrible motorcycle accident. I was lifeflighted off the interstate in Athens, to Grant Medical Center in Colombus Ohio.

I went through the emergency room where the trauma team inserted tubes all over my body at a rapid pace to check all my vitals and i must have passed out from the pain because I don’t remember anything else.

Then when I woke up, I knew I was in the operating room because I felt cold and I could feel my stomach being patted down because it was jiggling from my excess weight.

I could feel my stomach burn with excruciating pain and I remember thinking to myself, i need to let them know I’m awake! I couldn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t move my feet or even twitch my arm to let them know I was awake and I could feel everything.

I felt completely paralyzed! I heard the doctors talking to each other and then I felt the sewing! My stomach was being sewed shut! It was horrible, I remember feeling the needle piercing my flesh and the thread pulling through to the next stitch!

I kept trying to move but it was no use, so I laid there enduring the pain and when i felt a tear run out of my eye down the side of my face, and then the last thing I remember, I was waking up in recovery. I found out later, that I had broken all the ribs on my left side and punctured my left lung.

Apparently one of my ribs also lascerated my spleen so they had to cut my abdomen from my pubic bone to my breastbone to remove my spleen.

I was advised to try to avoid coughing because I had staples holding my stomach together. I asked my nurse if I also had stitches and I was told “Yes, but those will dissolve on thier own”. I then told her that I had woken up during the surgery and I couldn’t move, she listened to me but didn’t make any comments either way, but it’s a memory that will be with me for as long as I live.

Since then I have had 2 more surgeries and I have told the anesthesiologist each time that I have previously woken up and both times they have assured me it won’t happen again; so far it hasn’t, but that fear is there and it won’t go away. I feel for anyone who has gone through this, it was a living nightmare.

2. In the 90s I woke up during knee surgery. Like just fully snapped awake and sat up. All of these wide-eyed masked faces just turned and stared at me.

I looked down at my clamped open leg, looked at one of the masked faces that everyone seemed to be deferring to and said “I don’t think I want to be awake for this.”

They put me back under and as a drifted off I started to feel pain.

Woke up after the surgery and the doctor came in and apologized. I had specifically mentioned that I require more anesthesia than most people (the redhead thing that is finally being acknowledged in modern medicine) but they didn’t believe me and gave me a normal dose.

3. I woke up while they were putting a metal plate in my arm. They used a block which basically made my entire arm from shoulder to hand numb. When I woke up I could remember hearing a drill and a slight pressure in the arm they were working on. I just said “This is awesome” followed shortly by someone saying “oops.” Quickly went back to sleep.

4. At the young age of 5 it became aware to myself and the entire medical staff that my body processed general anesthetics far quicker than it should, thus causing me to wake up in the middle of an endoscopy, tube down the throat to look at shit in my stomach / throat.

It was the first one I was having in regards to monitoring a growth in my throat. Hands down the most traumatizing experience I’ve ever had to deal with.

I tried to move and began coughing and gagging on the tube that was down my throat. For the age of 5 I put up a decent fight, and was able to let out a scream which from my mother’s account she knew it was me immediately.

Of course panic sets in, the doctors begin yelling that Im awake, and before I knew it I was asleep again. In my head this instance occurred over what I thought was a 5-6 period.

Turns out I woke up 7 minutes into the operation and was wheeled into the room and wheeled out in under an hour. I remember the immense amount of pain I was in to have this metal rod down my throat and trying to move, ultimately fucking up a bunch of stuff.

The scariest part was the white, everything was so white, the outfits, the walls, and to this day I have horrific nightmares and still hate being in/around hospitals. Shit sucked.

From here it was a whole mess of legal issues and health problems all while cancer cells were very evidently present in my throat. Crazy childhood man. Im good now though

5. I woke up while they were repairing a hernia in my lower abdomen. It felt like I was buried in a bunch of sand. I was still pretty out of it due to the drugs but I tried getting up off of the operating table (I actually thought I was buried) and they had to hold me down until they could get me re-anesthetized. I don’t remember seeing anything, just shades and figures, but the sensation of what I felt was just odd. Like I said, buried in sand.

6. I woke up in the middle of gall bladder removal surgery. I couldn’t look down, but I know I was cut open on the operating table by the bloody knife and vacuum tube in the surgeon’s hand. The thing that bothered me most, though, was the fact that there was a tube down my throat and it was really difficult to breathe. There were a lot of “Oh my God”s and “Please don’t move”s, some said very loudly and near the edge of panic. Finally the doctor yelled for someone to give me another dose of anesthetic, and bonk I was out like a light.

7. I woke up in the middle of an emergency abdominal surgery. All my muscles were paralyzed, including my breathing muscles. I felt as though I was suffocating and kept trying to take a breath desperately with no luck. I tried to move to get their attention and of course couldn’t. I was a prisoner in my own body as I listened to a woman calling my surgeon’s name and felt my organs being manipulated in my abdomen. All the while feeling as though I was suffocating. Have never felt more helpless in my life. They told me later that my heart rate had suddenly spiked to 140 in the middle of the surgery. I assume that’s when I had woken up.

8. I HATE that I can answer this. When I was a young man I was taken into surgery after a really nasty car accident. I was actually not in a car but the lady that hit me was driving at around 45 mph.

Needless to say, this was already way high on my “fuckin sucks” scale. Somehow after returning to the land of the living, I vividly remember waking up on the operating table with those big ass lights shining on me.

I quickly realized I had a tube in my mouth, and I was connected to IVs and things that went beep. As my vision cleared, my eyes tracked to the commotion in the room and I saw two doctor looking fellows along with two nurses all patting the back of a third nurse that was losing her cookies in the sink.

It spooked me because I couldn’t imagine being in such bad shape that it would make someone throw up. After that, I don’t remember anything as I’m guessing the anesthesiologist caught me waking up and reversed my consciousness. Fade to black. That was all she wrote for me and I have no further memories of the operating room.

It’s been said that anesthesiologists will take you to the edge of death and hold you there. It’s a delicate balance and I can see why they make the big bucks.

9. I am a surgeon and have had a life-long phobia of this exact event. This past august, i went to my own hospital with septic and hemorrhagic shock (my blood pressure was dangerously low after an an aggressive infection ate its way into a blood vessel).

I was taken to surgery by two of my partners. since anesthesia tends to drop the blood pressure further, the anesthesiologist gave me a minimal amounts to be safe. Having never had surgery before i did not know how my body responds to and metabolizes anesthesia.

Unfortunately, while i am a pretty thin person, i am also a redhead, and as other respondents to this questions have noted (likely because genes that tend to co-segregate with this hair color , ie travel together thru generations), redheads have been scientifically demonstrated to require greater amounts of anesthesia than the average population. the anesthesiologist met me outside the door to the OR, wearing my cap, so he did not know ny hair color, and i was on pain meds and it did not occur to me to tell him.

In any event, i experienced complete recall for the majority of the operation, meaning that while i heard, FELT and remembered everything vividly, i was also under neuromuscular paralysis, a drug induced state routinely administered for many operations to keep patients from moving (even tho presumably asleep) during the operation. Problem was, I was not asleep, and even though there i could feel hot cautery literally carving out chunks of my flesh, and that felt exactly how you would expect it to, far more terrifying was the sensation that i could not move or breathe at all (a machine pushed regular, measured breaths down my throat) or tell anyone what i was going through.

I could hear my partners talking, i could tell u what country song was playing on the radio, and i was desperately trying to move my fingertips or head or cough or do something to let them know i was awake and could not. Thankfully, the sheer panic caused my blood pressure to sky rocket, and more anesthesia was administered to treat it, knocking me back out.

After the surgery, I mentioned the event, but downplayed it significantly, not wanting to sound ingrateful or critical of my partners who probably saved my life. This decision probably contributed to the development of PTSD, nightmares and flashbacks which i continue to struggle with almost daily. So i would give patients undergoing surgery two pieces of advice:

(1) your anesthesiologist is just as important as your surgeon. DEMAND to meet him or her, well in advance, if at all possible, make sure u are talking to the person who will actually be administering the meds and monitoring you (which nowadays is commonly done by a CRNA or resident as opposed to the supervising attending anesthesiologist).

This is not an unreasonable request, and in fact protocol at many hospitals (altho not always possible in the event of emergency surgery such as mine).

Make them aware of all your concerns and fears. Ask about potential adverse effects of the anesthesia they plan to use, such as nausea and delirium (or cardiac risks, kidney and liver risks, and even increased eye pressure for those with glaucoma) and let them know if you are susceptible to these.

Tell them about any past experiences and side effects with anesthesiology or pain meds. Ask them if you have any risk factors for “recall” and if they intend to modify their plan based on this; specifically, how they plan to monitor ur level of consciousness (typically done these days via vitals signs, as in my case, but more advanced technology is available)

(2) If, god forbid, u do experience recall or another traumatic event associated with your surgery, take it seriously and seek help early. PTSD can be prevented if those likely to develop it are identified early, usually within the 1st 24 hrs.

Also, i want to make it clear that i do not blame my anesthesiolgist, who did what he thought was safest. But we can all stand to learn and improve. Hope this helps someone else avoid the same experience

Cat Protection From Mind Control With Tin Foil Hats

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Did you know that tin foil hat is a great way to protect your cat from the evil government that’s are trying to implement mind control and take over your pet? Make your own before it’s too late! Or get one on Amazon if you don’t trust your own skills!

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What’s It Like To Be In A Polyamorous Relationship

 

I was in a polyamorous relationship for about 10 years, a triad composed of two women and one man. We were mostly but not entirely polyfidelitious, meaning that we rarely dated or engaged sexually with anyone outside the relationship. I was dating him, he met her, he introduced her to me, and we all fell in love.

Polyamory forces you to think explicitly about how you want your relationships to work. There is no default set of rules, no one size fits all solution.

Nothing can be assumed, everything is up for discussion, and anything can be negotiated to suit the needs of the people involved.

A monogamous friend of mine told me once that at some level he considered his marriage to be a poly relationship of two people, precisely because he and his wife had very detailed talks about how they wanted their relationship to work. I suspect that a lot of monogamous pairings could benefit from this open-minded attitude towards relationship dynamics.

I think that to some extent, poly relationship networks form a proxy for the extended family and tribal groups that have largely faded out in Western culture.

Having a group of trusted adults means more people to contribute resources and share risk, more people to assist with rearing children, more people to help out around the house.

On a more personal level, having multiple partners means that you are not loading all of your hopes, desires, and expectations on to one person. Recognizing that no single person can or should be expected to fill all of your needs, you are free to develop other rewarding relationships with the full knowledge and consent of everyone involved.

I am not otherwise an alt-lifestyler (and am in fact fairly conservative in some ways). The mundane content of our relationship was in most respects quite conventional.

We went on dinner dates and out to the movies, took some vacations together, went grocery shopping, talked about work.

It irritates me when people focus exclusively on the sexual aspects of non-heterosexual and non-monogamous relationships, but I will touch on that part very briefly here.

Sex with my partners was wonderful. I loved being the focus of two people who loved me, I loved giving each of them pleasure, and I loved seeing them give pleasure to each other.

Cuddling together with my beloveds was blissful. We surrounded ourselves with love, and all felt safe and right with the world.

A lot of people think that polyamory is a little weird at best, and actively immoral at worst.

My parents were politely supportive of my relationship, but some members of my extended family were quite vocal in their distaste.

Some very popular religions place a heavy emphasis on sexual exclusivity (especially for women), and it’s discouraging to have your relationship held up as an example of social decline that must actively be guarded against (If we let gay people marry, then soon polygamists will want to get married, and then people will be marrying dogs and trees and who knows what else!).

If you have some problem or issue with your relationship, many people will jump to the conclusion that being polyamorous is the root of the problem.

I avoided discussing my relationship status with all but my closest coworkers, as I suspected that disclosing such a thing might constitute a distinctly career-limiting move.

I was on the receiving end of a lot of rudely prying questions about our sex life, and a lot of unsavory assumptions about poly relationships and about me as a woman in such an arrangement. That it is just about sex and getting to sleep around, that we must be hippies or religious nuts like the Mormon Fundamentalists that were in the news a lot a while back, that it is an excuse for men to exploit women, that I must be giving in just to please our male partner, or because I felt that I didn’t deserve anything better,

Issues of moral judgement aside, ours is a couple-oriented society and a family unit involving more than two adults does not fit in easily.

There is the obvious issue of marriage and family law, which supports pairwise bonds exclusively.

Married couples get a package of legal rights and responsibilities by default, but developing legal protection for a polyamorous family requires extended work with an attorney.

Then there were the more mundane conflicts. Yes, please invite both of my partners to your holiday party, Yes, us three adults really would prefer just one king-sized bed in the hotel room.

People had no idea how to refer to us. Are you married, or dating, or what? Should we call him your husband and her your wife, or what? Are you really serious about this? We turned heads when we displayed any kind of affection together in public.

I write this at a time when I am new to talking about our triad in the past tense.

My relationship with one of my partners has degraded to the point that it cannot be repaired, and I am not sure what this means for our family.

There is no template for me to go by here, nothing straightforward like a divorce. I am deeply saddened by the decline of this partnership, and also by the knowledge that I am losing part of the foundation of support that has been so important to me for the last decade.

Reality

2023 01 17 14 52
2023 01 17 14 52

Outstanding NDE!

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2023 01 18 15 57

Inflate Your Cat’s Holy Ego With This Buddhist Statue Scratching Post From Japan

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The “Cat Club” (Neko-bu) division of Japanese online retailer Felissimo has put out some creative feline bedding situations in the past. Today, you can add holy kitty claw maintenance to their list of cute cat products, as they’ve just released a scratching post that turns your cat into a feline Buddhist statue!

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It’s called the Kouhai Scratching Post. Kouhai are the halo found on Buddhist sculptures, which are meant to represent light emitting from the Buddha. While most cats consider themselves to have divine sovereignty over the household, now they can look the part while get their claws some scratching practice. The lotus-shaped pedestal (rendai) has a curved scratching board, but your newly enlightened cat may simply choose to look holy while sleeping on it.

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What’s it Like to Work at a Bottom-Of-The-Barrel Used Car Lot

 

The lot I work at is absolutely the last stop. If you’ve got 3 repos and just got out of prison last week and don’t have a driver’s license, we can still get you in a car.

And with typical gross of $3500-$6000 (on cars that are $7k or less) BEFORE products and ancillaries, we get paid very well, and we sell a lot of inventory. But we also attract a certain type of customer. We legit have those silent alarm buttons under our desks like bank tellers have.

So a couple of weeks ago we had a car get stolen. Our repo guys recovered it about 3 days later (they found it before the cops did). No big deal, we’re no stranger to having cars stolen. The only issue is that we didn’t recover the key. It was a 13 year old German-made car so we had to have a new fob programmed.

Last week someone tweaked out on meth came in and wanted to buy that freshly-recovered car. He paid in all cash, but was about $1,000 short after TT&L so we decided to just in-house finance that $1k at 0% interest and put a GPS in the car.

Dude pays in all $20’s and $1’s out of a woman’s purse despite no woman being around. Whatever, I’m just here to help finalize car deals not be a fucking cop or whatever. It was so god damn annoying to count out $8k in all 20’s and 1’s

Next red flag comes whenever I try to register the car.. the license he gave for a test drive is fake. Again, whatever, we’ll do car deals without a license, I just need to know who you are. He gives me this insanely bogus story and eventually I get a picture of his real ID and we finish the deal.

So, remember how the car was stolen and we didn’t recover the key? This dude calls us a day later and says that people are chasing him down with a key fob saying that they stole the car from a very specific location and he wants a discount or his money back or something. Here’s the thing, we never told him it was stolen and we never told him where it was stolen from.

(side note: we didn’t pay BMW or the locksmith to invalidate the other key that was floating around out there whenever they programmed the new one)

He says he had to pay these thieves $1400 to get this second key fob back and he wants us to reimburse the money to him. Come to find out, his buddy that was with him when he was buying the car was the same guy on our cameras at the lot when the key and car were stolen. What kind of idiot steals a car then comes back weeks later to buy that car?

GPS isn’t locating. We tell the customer he has to come down yesterday to finalize the deal or made some random excuse to trick him into coming so we can adjust the GPS. He refuses to let us in the car at first. The battery is in the trunk and the customer finally agrees to let us in after moving his burglar tools and machetes around.

We adjust the GPS and he’s on his way (after more yelling and arguing over stupid bullshit). So later yesterday evening we go to close the lot down and realize that we were missing keys to 3 of our cars. Obviously we know who did it. They were causing a scene and being a distraction so one of their friends could quickly swipe some keys from the board.

GM gets on the phone with the dude Motherfucker we have you on video stealing our fucking keys bring them the fuck back so we don’t have to call the cops. We just want your money we don’t want to act like fucking law enforcement just bring the shit back you piece of shit and pay your bill god damn man come on

The dude was just right around the corner waiting with his friends for us to close. He sends his friend down to bring the keys back bro if you really have cameras you can tell it wasn’t me i’m just bringing them back to you man.

We lock the lot up, I leave a little note on this guy’s account that I’m not giving him a 60-day repo time window after this. He should be in jail, but rather than call the cops I just gave him a 10-day grace period on his $1000 that he owes or we’ll repo the car. Having a car repo’d after dropping $8,000 in cash is much worse than jail. Also, as a 3-time felon myself, I’d always rather try to handle this without getting the cops involved. I mean, if the cops arrested him, then we definitely wouldn’t get the rest of what he owed.

We went home and ended our Monday.

Let’s see how Tuesday goes! I started my day today with my customer showing his 240+ stitches he got when he tried to steal some rims to put on the car we sold him a few months ago, but the owner of the rims came out and stabbed him. Hilarious story, we laughed and laughed until he said he was laughing so hard his stitches were hurting.

Best summary EVER!

This Japanese Company Found The Most “Prefurrable” Way To Improve Productivity

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A Japanese company named Ferray Corporation, an internet solutions business, came up with an unusual way for their employees to unwind and increase productivity. Now, workers are allowed to bring their cats to work. Nine cats, rescued by the company, already roam freely in the office on a regular basis.

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Moreover, if someone doesn’t have a pet of their own yet, they are paid a «cat bonus» after deciding to adopt a feline that needs a home. It seems that the office communication has increased dramatically, since Ferray employees now have a topic that brings them together and lowers everyone’s stress levels.

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Very good. You must listen to Scott. America is “diplomacy incapable”.

https://youtu.be/6AQdvZ6x1hA

Ukraine SitRep – Media Ignorance, Counter-Artillery War, Three Lost Armies

Yves Smith asks:

What if Russia Won the Ukraine War but the Western Press Didn’t Notice?

She points to several headlines which, despite decisive Russian victories like its taking of Soledar, present the Ukraine as winning the war:

Nevertheless, Soledar has fallen and the loss of Bakhmut looks baked in, absent horrific Russian errors. The so-called Zelensky line is breaking even before Russia has put its recently-mobilized forces to work in a serious way. Regular commentators are waiting for the Russian hammer to fall, although Russia may simply grind more forcefully by pressing harder at more points along the very long line of contact. Remember one concern on the Russian side is avoiding “winning” in a way that leads to NATO panic and desperate action … not that the Collective West’s fragile emotional state can be readily managed.With that context, you’d expect some members of the press to have worked out that things are not going very well for Ukraine and the classic cowboy movie rescue of the calvary riding over the hill (here in the form of tanks and artillery) will be too little, too late.

Instead, the media seems to be trying to integrate snippets of facts on the ground with the heroic tale of inevitable Ukraine victory.

That is certainly correct for the wide majority of the stories, which claim that Soledar and Bahkmut, are irrelevant towns, but some pieces are creeping up that differ. A few days ago the Washington Post headlined:

Bloody Bakhmut siege poses risks for Ukraine

Ukraine faces difficult choices about how much deeper its military should get drawn into a protracted fight over the besieged city of Bakhmut, as Kyiv prepares for a new counteroffensive elsewhere on the front that requires conserving weapons, ammunition and experienced fighters.Russia has escalated its assault in the area in recent days, unleashing savage fighting that has underscored the high cost of the battle. Russian mercenaries and released convicts from the Wagner group pushed into the neighboring salt-mining town of Soledar and inched closer to Bakhmut, the capture of which has eluded them for months despite an advantage in firepower and the willingness to sacrifice troops.

The piece quotes several Ukrainian soldiers which speak of huge losses on their side. But the U.S. is still egging them on:

The senior U.S. official cautioned against completely dismissing Bakhmut or neighboring Soledar as nonstrategic places that Kyiv can simply relinquish, noting that the salt and gypsum mines give the area economic significance. Theoretically, the Russians could use the deep salt mines and tunnels to protect equipment and ammunition from Ukrainian missile strikes. Moscow has also endowed the city with import.“To some degree, Bakhmut matters to [Ukraine] because it matters so much to the Russians,” the senior U.S. official said, noting that control of Bakhmut is not going to have a huge impact on the conflict or imperil Ukraine’s defensive or offensive options in the country’s eastern Donbas region.

The official added, “Bakhmut is not going to change the war.”

I believe the senior U.S. official to be very wrong. Soledar and Bakhmut are bleeding the Ukrainian army dry. That is of relevance. Look at the insane number of Ukrainian units deployed on that only 50 kilometer (30mi) long sector of the front.

 

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media1 s

Source: Military Land Deployment MapbiggerI count the equivalent of some 27 brigade size formations in that area. The usual size of a brigade is some 3,000 to 4,000 men with hundreds of all kinds of vehicles. If all brigades had their full strength that force would count as 97,500 men. In a recent interview the Ukrainian military commander Zaluzhny said that his army has 200,000 men trained to fight with 500,000 more having other functions or currently being trained. The forces which are currently getting mauled in the Bakhmut area constitute 50% of Ukraine’s battle ready forces.

Zaluzhny has pulled units from other fronts like the Kreminna and Svatove sector further north in Luhansk province to feed them into Bakhmut. That has minimized any chance that the Ukrainian forces in those sectors will be able to make any progress.

What nearly all reports from Ukraine seem to miss is the huge damage that Russia artillery is causing on a daily base. Ukraine has little artillery left to respond to that and whatever it still has is getting less by the day.

A few weeks ago the Russian military started a systematic counter artillery campaign which has since made great progress. The typical western way of detecting enemy artillery units is by radar. The flight path of the projectile is measured and the coordinates of its source are calculated enabling ones own artillery to respond. But counter-artillery radar itself depends on radiating. It is thereby easily detectable and vulnerable to fire. Over the last months Russia deployed a very different counter-artillery detection systems with the rather ironic name of Penicillin:

Penicillin or 1B75 Penicillin is an acoustic-thermal artillery-reconnaissance system developed by Ruselectronics for the Russian Armed Forces. The system aims to detect and locate enemy artillery, mortars, MLRs, anti-aircraft or tactical-missile firing positions with seismic and acoustic sensors, without emitting any radio waves. It locates enemy fire within 5 seconds at a range of 25 km (16 mi; 13 nmi). Penicillin completed state trials in December 2018 and entered combat duty in 2020.The Penicillin is mounted on the 8×8 Kamaz-6350 chassis and consists of a 1B75 sensor suite placed on a telescopic boom for the infrared and visible spectrum as well as of several ground-installed seismic and acoustic receivers as a part of the 1B76 sensor suite. It has an effective range for communication with other military assets up to 40 kilometres (25 mi) and is capable to operate even in a fully automatic mode, without any crew. One system can reportedly cover an entire division against an enemy fire. Besides that, it co-ordinates and corrects a friendly artillery fire.

 

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media2

biggerThe Penicillin system can hide in the woods and stick up its telescopic boom to look at and listen to the battlefield. As it does not radiate itself there is no good way for an enemy to detect it.

The system pinpoints Ukrainian guns as they fire. They are then eliminated by immediate precise counter-fire. As the artillery relevant part of today’s ‘clobber’ list provided by the Russian Ministry of Defense claims:

Operational-Tactical Aviation, Missile Troops and Artillery of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation have neutralised an artillery ordnance depot of 114th Territorial Defence Brigade near Veliky Burluk (Kharkov region), as well as 82 artillery units at their firing positions, manpower and hardware at 98 areas.

Counterbattery warfare operations have resulted in destruction of:

  • one Polish-manufactured Krab howitzer near Peschanoye (Kharkov region);
  • one U.S.-manufactured M109 Paladin howitzer, and one fighting vehicle equipped with Grad multiple-launch rocket system (MLRS) near Lozovaya (Kharkov region);
  • one D-20 howitzer near Terny (Donetsk People’s Republic);
  • two Giatsint-B howitzers near Maryinka and Orlovka (Donetsk People’s Republic);
  • two Akatsiya self-propelled howitzers near Nevskoye (Lugansk People’s Republic), and Preobrazhenka (Zaporozhye region);
  • five D-30 howitzers near Zmiyevka, Novokairy (Kherson region), Sofiyevka (Donetsk People’s Republic), and Orekhov (Zaporozhye region).

Four U.S.-manufactured counterbattery warfare radars have been destroyed:

  • two AN/TPQ-50 stations near Mylovoye and Dudchany (Kherson region),
  • one AN/TPQ-36 counterbattery warfare radar near Ugledar (Donetsk People’s Republic),
  • one U.S.-manufactured AN/TPQ-48 counterbattery warfare radar near Senkovo (Kharkov region).

Air defence facilities have shot down six Ukrainian unmanned aerial vehicles near Kremennaya (Lugansk People’s Republic), Nikolskoye, and Petrovskoye (Donetsk People’s Republic).

14 rocket-propelled projectiles launched by HIMARS and Olkha MLRS have been intercepted near Udy (Kharkov region), Smolyaninovo (Lugansk People’s Republic), Donetsk, and Khartsyzsk (Donetsk People’s Republic).

One U.S.-manufactured anti-radiation missile has been shot down near Radensk (Kherson region).

One Ukrainian Tochka-U ballistic missile has been shot down near Berdyansk (Zaporozhye region).

The above is the equivalent of two artillery companies (batteries with six guns each) eliminated in just one day. Ukrainian counter-battery fire against Russian artillery is no longer possible as the necessary detection equipment gets eliminated and as Ukrainian counter-fire is shot down by Russian air defenses.

This Russian counter-artillery campaign has been going on for several weeks. It has disabled large parts of what was left of Ukrainian longer range capabilities. Meanwhile the Russian artillery keeps on knocking down Ukranian troops that hold the frontline. Only when all parts of the Ukrainian trenches have been hit by intense fire will the Russian infantry move in to clean up whatever is left behind.

This form of battle is causing huge losses on the Ukrainian side while the Russian forces incur just a minimum of casualties.

In his recent talks Col (ret.) Douglas Macgregor put the deaths in Ukraine forces at 150,000 and casualties at 450,000. I, like Yves Smith, doubt that number of wounded is that high. As the system of Ukrainian battlefield extradition and hospitalization is in a bad state there will be less wounded and likely more dead.

In a huge contrast to U.S. waged wars, the civilian death count on the Ukrainian side is remarkably low:

Andriy Yermak, head of the Ukrainian presidential staff, said at the World Economic Forum in the Swiss resort of Davos, “We have registered 80,000 crimes committed by Russian invaders and over 9,000 civilians have been killed, including 453 children.”

Feeding more troops into the battle in the Bakhmut sector, as the Ukrainian side has been doing, is not a good use of resources.

We can state that Ukraine has by now lost the nominal equipment of two larger armies.

At the beginning of the war the Ukrainian army was said to have some 2,500 tanks, 12,500 armored vehicles and 3,500 large artillery systems. It is doubtful that more than half of those were in a usable state but they may have received enough repair to be workable.

The Russia military claims that most of those have been eliminated:

7,549 tanks and other armoured fighting vehicles, 984 fighting vehicles equipped with MLRS, 3,853 field artillery cannons and mortars, as well as 8,081 units of special military equipment have been destroyed during the special military operation.

If one doubts those numbers one has to ask why the Ukraine has needed to import so many more weapons and is still short of them:

  • 410 Soviet-era tanks delivered by NATO members in former communist bloc, including Poland, Czech Republic and Slovenia.
  • 300 [Armored/Infantry Fighting Vehicles], including 250 Soviet-designed IFVs from former communist states.
  • 1,100 [Armored Personnel Carriers], including 300 M113 troop carriers and 250 M117s.
  • 300 towed howitzers. 400+ pieces of self-propelled artillery, of which 180 is on order.
  • 95 [Multiple Rocket Launchers]

There were also a number of fighter airplanes, helicopter and air-defense systems. The above was the second army, after Ukraine’s original one was mostly gone, that has by now been nearly eliminated.

The Russian clobber list now regularly reports of combat with Ukraine forces that kills, for example, one tank, three armored vehicles and a number of pick-ups and motor vehicles:

One Ukrainian sabotage and reconnaissance group has been eliminated near Liman Pervy (Kharkov region). The enemy has lost over 50 Ukrainian personnel, one tank, two infantry fighting vehicles, and two pickups.

[In Donetsk direction] over 60 Ukrainian personnel, one tank, three armoured fighting vehicles, and six motor vehicles have been eliminated.

Two AFU sabotage and reconnaissance groups have been eliminated in the area to the north of Levadnoye and Vladimirovka (Donetsk People’s Republic). The enemy has lost up to 40 Ukrainian personnel, two armoured fighting vehicles, and three motor vehicles.

Pick-ups and unarmored motor vehicles should avoid the frontline and certainly not be part of force attacking the immediate frontline. If these reports reflect the current structure of Ukrainian forces, as I believe they do, than its state is indeed dire.

In his Economist interview General Zeluzhny has requested a third army to be delivered to him immediately:

“I know that I can beat this enemy,” he says. “But I need resources. I need 300 tanks, 600-700 IFVs [infantry fighting vehicles], 500 Howitzers.”

As the Economist writer dryly noted:

The incremental arsenal he is seeking is bigger than the total armoured forces of most European armies.

The stocks of two complete armies have by now been destroyed in Ukraine. The resources for a smaller third one will be delivered in the next rounds of ‘western’ equipment deliveries during the next months. Russia will dully destroy Ukraine’s third army just as it has destroyed the first and second one. It is doubtful that the ‘West’ has enough material left to provide Ukraine with a fourth one.

That then leaves only two options. Send in ‘western’ armies with the equipment they still have or declare victory and go home.

The neo-conservatives as ever favor the first option. President Joe Biden may still be against sending U.S. soldiers but this could change if he indeed gets blackmailed into doing it:

[A]s the ‘classified documents’ scandal gains momentum, the malleable president will likely fall-in-line and do whatever the hawkish foreign policy establishment demands of him. In short, the documents flap is being used by behind-the-scenes powerbrokers who are blackmailing the president to pursue their own narrow interests. They have Brandon over-a-barrel.

There is no evidence that this is happening but the signs are there.

The second option is to declare a non-existent victory and to forget about the whole issues.

But will the ‘western’ media, as Yves asks, notice any of this?

As commentator David correctly remarks at Yves’ site:

I’ve said for a long time now that the West will be able to claim “victory”, or at least not defeat, by establishing fantastical victory conditions that the Russians never had and never wanted, and then claiming credit for frustrating them. With luck, this will just about enable western elites to hang onto power, at least temporarily.

“Putin tried to conquer Europe but we stopped him after he took only half of Ukraine,” will sound like victory. But it is of course extremely far from the truth. Anyway, the media may well buy it:

But in the wider sense, we’re seeing the latest and most degenerate stage of the stupidity and ignorance which has afflicted the western media and pundit class over the last year. They didn’t know about the war in the Donbas, nobody told them Russia had the strongest army in Europe, nobody knew about the defensive lines in Donbas, nobody understood the seriousness of the Russian threats, nobody realised the Russians hoped for a short, sharp war to bring the Ukrainians to their senses, nobody understood why Russia went over to Plan B while it mobilised, nobody realised the Russians had been stockpiling weapons and ammunition for years; nobody knew what attrition warfare was …. In other words, the most disgraceful example of ignorance and stupidity of any ruling class in modern times. It will go on to the end, and “victory” will be proclaimed.

The war the U.S. provoked in Ukraine has been won by Russia even when no one wants to note it.

Posted by b on January 17, 2023 at 18:14 UTC | Permalink

Masitas de Cerdo
(Puerto Rico, Cuba and Central America)

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6278af72c36f07afb07923871b370bc0

These chunks of pork are traditionally made with pork shoulder and are fried. They are similar to carnitas, the braised pork cubes found on Mexican menus.

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds boneless pork loin, cut into 1-inch cubes
  • 6 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon dry oregano
  • 1/2 cup sour orange juice (or use 1/4 cup orange juice and 1/4 cup lime juice
  • 1/4 cup olive oil

Instructions

  1. Place pork cubes in a self-sealing plastic bag; mix together remaining ingredients and pour over pork cubes; seal bag and refrigerate overnight.
  2. Remove pork from marinade, discarding marinade, and place pork cubes in a shallow baking pan.
  3. Roast at 350 degrees F for 25 to 30 minutes, until pork is tender.
  4. Remove to serving platter and serve hot.
"The poor Kitten ! If you hadn'd found him, he probably wouldn't have had a Chance ! You fought for him , didn't give up and saved his Life ! You deserve great Respect ! I can see , how grateful Tigo is to you !"

Calm down and do not too caught up in the nonsense that surrounds you

I woke up to this comment at the top of my comment stack.

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2023 01 26 08 54

Ah, what is fucking wrong with you people? I don’t need to read this, and I don’t want to promote this, but I am (at times) flooded with this exact kind of nonsensical gibberish.

Look people, I get enough of this “ugly” for a lifetime. I am sorry to put it on MM. Please accept my apologies, but I do want you all to see what is festering in the United States these days.

Today, well, this post is just going to be rather soft.

Please have a nice day, and make the most of what you have. Be kind to dogs and cats. Buy a cup of coffee for some co-workers. Try to add some good into the world, rather than vomiting out on everyone with evil, vile hatred puke.

Make the world a better place. In a kind and soft way, you can make a difference. You. Yes, you can.

Know that I believe in you guys.

What’s It Like To Date A Woman 25 Years Older Than You?

 

I dated a lovely woman that was exactly twice my age. I was 25 and she was 50.

She’d been through a terrible, abusive marriage, and had 3 grown children, 2 of which were older than I.

Her ex and her kids treated her like shit and unfortunately she let them.

Together we made a life running a business together that was successful enough for us to afford 2 homes, 3 nice cars, and a 30+ foot house boat.

Eventually I realized that while I had a damn good life, I was not happy.

Age is not just a number. It eventually gets to the point where you can see the huge difference.

I got tired of the Mom jokes and I was totally out of my element when her kids visited. I hated how they treated her and it became a source of contention for us.

Sexually, we were great at first, but that changed quickly as she went through menopause. She was no longer interested in sex and I was a raging 30yr old by then.

We started sleeping apart because her “back hurt” and I was just so comfortable with my life that I didn’t protest.

Things really started to fall apart when I was getting closer to 40 and realized that she just couldn’t keep up with the things I wanted to do in life.

I was taking care of her more and more and I started to resent her for it. Eventually I realized that unless I left I would be miserable.

I told her when I was 38, after 13 years together, that I thought it was time for us to part ways. One of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.

She was totally devastated. So much so that I almost stayed, just to make sure someone would be there to care for her as her health failed.

I begged her to become self reliant and moved out after 6mo. of trying to help her settle her life apart from me.

I moved out of state and told her idiot kids that they needed to help her.

That’s the last time I saw her. I left her with everything. Both the houses and 2 cars and the boat, also the business we’d built together.

Financially she wouldn’t ever have to work again. I started over with a pickup truck and about $2k in the bank.

Vintage Hamburger Goulash

“Found while surfing the net. I don’t remember what site I found it on.”

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2023 01 02 12 49

Ingredients

Directions

  • Saute beef, 1/2 tsp of red pepper flakes and 2 onions in large frying pan. Drain excess fat. Lots of onions makes this good.
  • Meanwhile, in another pan cook macaroni in boiling, salted water until tender. Set aside until almost ready to serve.
  • When beef and onions are finished cooking, add the canned, crushed tomatores and approximately 1/2 cup water; also add garlic salt, pepper, chili powder and mix well.
  • Simmer for about 20 minutes; then add cooked macaroni noodles and mix well when ready to serve. If you add the macaroni noodles too soon, they may over cook and get mushy.

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2023 01 02 12 52

9 People Reveal Their Frustrations Of Being Raised By Overbearing Asian Parents

 

1. I visited a family friend with my parents, and while we were on our way back, my dad said he was discussing with the other parents about how me and their child, and most Asian children in this generation aren’t decisive/willing to take risks at all. I literally exploded.

Like why the fuck do you think we are this way?

Don’t you think maybe if you guys weren’t so fucking stingy with compliments and over critical with every single little mistake we made growing up then we would be a bit more confident and not deathly afraid of making mistakes???

Kid grow up to reflect how they are raised, it’s not like all of the Asian kids had a secret meeting and we just all decided to be constantly insecure and anxious as fuck and afraid of making decisions/mistakes in our life.

No, our parents literally raised us to be fucked up and then complain about it like we decided to be fucked up. Asian parents literally have no fucking clue how raising a child works.

They raise their child toxically and then expect them to magically turn out like they were actually raised by mentally healthy and loving parents. Fuck you.

I turned out to be insecure and anxious and pessimistic and afraid of mistakes/decisions because you raised me this way.

I’m not even holding grudges, but stop acting like I chose to be like this, no one would choose to be like this.

2. Asian parent logic: I must berate and emotionally abuse my children. I will never apologize to my children for any mistakes, even if they are my fault. I will not respect their boundaries.

At the same time, I demand fearful obedience, financial support in old age, and unconditional devotion.

Asian parents expect children to adhere to a social code that they don’t even reciprocate. It is insane to abuse a child, rip away any sense of self worth from them and expect them to love you. How is a child suppose to even reciprocate or learn something that was never taught or shown??????????

God forbid I ever bring this up to the pea sized brains of my parents. I don’t want kids because I don’t want to perpetuate this toxicity. It can rot with my childless body when I die.

3. It amazes me that parents think doing the bare minimum as parents is deserving of lifelong gratitude.

“We fed you and housed you and bought you clothes and let you go to school”

You are literally supposed to do that for your children. Don’t have children if you don’t expect to do this as a parent, you idiots.

Like you feeding and clothing your kids make you an exceptional parent. I mean what was the alternative?

Child services being contacted was the only other option. You don’t get praised in school for getting 50%.

4. My mum is always comparing me to someone. This includes but is not limited to: my sibling, my cousins, distant relatives, my OWN friends, random news stories about 8 year old prodigies… Even Obama.

It’s gotten to the point where I’ve literally heard it all until today I was gushing about BTS and how proud I am of them for coming so far especially with their Grammy nomination, when my mum said this:

“Look at BTS working so hard. Why don’t you work as hard as them? They are so hard working. You’re not even worth BTS.”

5. Asian Parents sometimes like to say that we are “ungrateful” and “entitled”. I think the opposite. I think THEY are the ones who are ungrateful and entitled.

They assume we should be automatically happy after being provided a “roof on your head, food to eat, clothes to wear”. They assume that just because of these things, we should be willing to do anything and everything they want, exactly the way they want it, whenever they want it.

That’s called being entitled.

They don’t like the fact that we have our own emotions, our own plans. It means, in their eyes, that we are “ungrateful”. However, being called ungrateful is nothing more than an insult. It holds no weight, parents are just mad that their directions are not being followed. Instead of appreciating that you have a child who does even decently at school, or piano, or anything, you hold them up to these ridiculous standards, always expecting more than what they have.

That in my view, is called being ungrateful.

6. The problem with Asian parents is that they refuse to look at us as separate human beings with our own thoughts, emotions, etc.

They also want control over every aspect of their life, I guess this extends to control of their kids.

And THEN they act surprised when all this backfires. “Oh, WHY IS HE LYING TO US”. Maybe because you restrict fucking everything? Come on.

7. Expecting kids to behave according to cultural practices of a place 1000s of miles away goes against our nature as human beings

As a student of science and psychology specifically, it kills me to see asian parents expecting their children who came here young or were born here to follow norms of a country in some other continent. It literally goes against our nature to adapt to places that are NOT in our immediate environment. It is completely abnormal and dysfunctional to raise kids with the expectation. If you are westnerized and live in the west then that means you are showing signs of healthy human behavior. We are not meant to stay in one time and place or adapt to environments that are not ours. We’d not make it as a species if this were the case.

I’ve seen parents who have been here for decades (my own especially) who literally show immense pride for not changing and still being very cultured. That’s insane to me. If you’re in a country for 30 years and you still live like you were back home then there is something incredibly dysfunctional about you. That’s not normal and horrible for your kids and this is because there is all this pressure to adhere to a place that they’ve never lived in while telling them to actively reject the place that you do.

Don’t get me wrong, I think celebrating your culture is great and incorporating culture in your life if thats your thing is fine. However, celebrating your culture and imposing culture on kids are very different and often the culture being imposed is not even the current culture back home anyways. What really happens (and I’m basing this on my mom) is that people back home have changed and grown and she has stuck in some 1970s time capsule that she keeps telling me to believe is what our culture back home looks like now.

8. I am every tiger parent’s dream daughter, and I am miserable

Thin, youthful, physically attractive, athletic, near-perfect health. Attended a top U.S. engineering school. Software engineer at Google. On track to be top 1% income and top 6% wealth for my age group within a year.

Yet they treat me like shit. Constantly screaming. Criticizing my every purchase. Asking how much I paid for certain items (coffee, food, bicycle) and complaining that I spend too much money. Not to mention back when I was a child I was screamed at and beaten every day, despite being a pretty good daughter. I have accomplished everything a tiger parent could ask for, yet I am miserable and so are my parents.

9. Turning 30 next month. My entire teens and 20s up to 27 was wasted. The best years of my life, under the vice grip of my overbearing, manipulative parents.

I was forced to commute to university. Never had the uni experience. Just classes and back home. By the time I entered the work world I was extremely under developed socially.

I got a great first job at a famous brand but compared to all the other grads there I was so far behind in every sense of being a professional. They were all great at shmoozing and articulating themselves. Being fun without being creepy. Being assertive in meetings and presentations. Organizing after-work grad socials etc. Meanwhile, I was the complete opposite of all that.

Even just everyday conversations they were all so well versed in different topics. Meanwhile I was sooo sheltered I had nothing to add to a conversation or tell a story. Mate, even my vocabulary, and literally how I string sentences together was underdeveloped.

And when I tried to fit in it came across very contrived and probably very creepy. I quit the job a year in because it was easier to run than get “found out”.

I didn’t start dating til 22. Even this was half-hearted because of the mental programming by APs and forced to stay at home, curfew and general overbearingness by them.

They didn’t know I was dating. But whenever I would go out my mum would literally harass me with calls and shouting when I got back home it was just easier to be an incel than deal with her bullshit.

Had no hobbies, because these were all labelled a waste of time.

Normally I used the gym to block and drown these regrets and feelings of self-pity. But since lockdown and no gym I’ve been abusing drink and food to avoid these thoughts. I just cant get over it. And I know these feelings will get worse the older I get and more time distance from my 20s.

I feel like at 29 I am at the development level of where most normal 20 year olds are.

I absolutely resent my parents and myself. I have immense self hate because of this shit.

Origami Inspired Pet Houses Will Give Your Furry Friend a Stylish Abode

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main 2021 08 17T163555.619

Japanese companies Netco and TENEO have collaborated to dream up these charming pet houses using traditional origami techniques, and begun a crowdfunding project to realize them that is sure to please cat and small dog lovers.

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The main material is a foldable eco-friendly strain of cardboard. The production team has also consulted Professor Jun Mitani ,a Tsukuba University professor part of an origami research lab, to ensure pets’ comfort while retaining the beauty of the origami structure.

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The main purpose of this project has been to integrate the Japanese tradition into modern lifestyle living. This project was a collaborative work between two parties; a new apparel brand, TENEO and an event marketing company, Nouvelle Vague.

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The Thoughts And Feelings Of A Police Officer Who Just Shot Someone To Death

 

I was involved in my first on duty shooting incident. And I killed someone. It is considered a justified shooting, but never the less its been keeping me up at night. And I thought maybe sharing it will help me process what happened.

I was watching a red light that’s known to produce some speeders and considered a dangerous intersection.

When I witnessed a car run the red light at a high rate of speed. I began pursuit, thinking it was a normal traffic stop. The car pulled over shortly after I began the pursuit.

I was getting out of my vehicle when all of a sudden when the driver stuck his hand out of the window and began shooting at me.

I immediately jumped back, pulled out my gun and returned fire. I swear it felt like it was an hour long shoot out but I watched the dash cam, and body cam, and it was literally a few seconds before the car took off again, I kept firing after the car took over, believe it was 3 or 4 shots.

I then got back into my car and took off in pursuit again, called in back up, when the car started to act erratically a few hundred meters from where the shooting took place the vehicle ran off the road and into a ditch.

I pulled up behind it, and grabbed my rifle positioned myself and called for the driver to stick his hands out.

I wasn’t getting any response, after a few calls I decided to approach the vehicle. My eyes were trained on the driver seat as from what I saw there was only the driver in the vehicle, as I get closer I can see the steering wheel, interior of the windshield is covered in blood.

I later learned I hit the suspect twice, once in the shoulder once in the head, it had been the last few shots I had taken as he had already taken off.

The suspect was dead, I then hear crying, look in the passenger side rear seat and see a 3 yr old boy crying his eyes out calling for his daddy.

Then it hit me, I had just killed this little boys daddy right in front of him.

I checked on the boy, thankfully outside of a bit of bruising caused by the crash he was ok. Shook up and scared out of his mind, but alright.

When back up arrived I had the boy sitting on the hood of my car, but outside of that the incident was over.

I later learned the person I shot at had warrants out for his arrest and he was facing some serious charges and serious time in jail.

Also after looking at my patrol car I noticed the suspect shot the hood of my car, the windshield, and the door I was behind.

It still keeps me up at night, this was the first time I was ever involved in a shooting, and first time I ever killed someone and I pray its the last time.

I think back on the emotions, and its so complex, it went from regular traffic stop to panic, to anger, to fear, and when I saw the boy a brief moment of anger that this would risk his child life over his stupidity to sorrow for that boy having witnessed his dad get killed in front of his own eyes.

I keep going back to that moment asking myself if I should have done something differently, but I can’t think of anything.

The suspect was in my opinion easily going 20+ above the speed limit, plus he ran a red light.

The second he started shooting at me he took away my choices, I had no choice but to return fire. My chief told me it was a text book use of force.

But it still keeps me up at night. At first I declined therapy, but a week or so ago I agreed to it.

One of the things that really brothers me is what if I had shoot the 3 yr old in the process?

His rear window was full of my shots, I’m sure a few inches over, and I may killed a child, that’s what really keeps me up at night.

That day also made me realize how close I am came to getting seriously injured or worst.

I would hate for my family to get the visit from my chief telling them I had been killed in the line of the duty. It sometimes really makes me question why I do what I do and is it worth it?

"Having worked in several federal prisons for 31 years, I used to always tell people that the huge, muscular inmates were rarely the ones one should be afraid of. This young dude is a perfect example of that. Guys like this don't have any interest in a face-to-face fist fight. They are cunning and have no problem coming up behind you and running steel through your neck. Dude's like this are the ones who are really, really dangerous."

https://youtu.be/eEHTB7ZVFm8

10 People Who Like Their Steaks Well-Done Explain WHY

 

1. First of all, by well done, I mean brown all the way through, which is not the same as completely burned so that the steak resembles a hockey puck in appearance and flavor.

I have had some phenomenal steaks cooked well done at moderate-to-upscale steakhouses, and the outside was barely charred at all.

After trying steaks cooked to a variety of temperatures, I feel that well done is the best according to my tastes. I don’t feel that the flavor is substantially lost by cooking the steak for longer.

Of course each temperature has its own distinct flavor, but I do not feel that a properly prepared well-done steak sacrifices much, if any, flavor.

The same goes for texture, if prepared properly. That said, in general, I prefer my food cooked all the way through.

When I cut into a rare steak and am greeted with a bright-red gush of raw beef and blood-like juice, I completely lose my appetite. Presentation is important when eating such an expensive meal. Finally, a fully cooked steak reduces the probability of picking up a foodborne illness. So it’s a win anyway you cut it (pardon the pun).

2. I like steak, but I don’t get how people enjoy tough and chewy raw steak. It’s just not enjoyable to eat. Well done (or medium well) steaks imho are more flavourful and I like the texture of the meat a lot better, but everyone acts like I’m desecrating the sanctity of the steak when I order well done. Like, it’s just food. Let me eat how I damn well want to eat it.

3. I just prefer the taste of it and don’t like tasting raw parts of half-cooked steak. Steak is a slice of meat. You’re supposed to cook the raw bits of meat. Nobody eats chicken half-raw. So why is it bad to eat steak well-done?

4. I like Well-Done meat myself too. Coworkers always jokingly bashed me for it, so I tried Medium-Well, Medium, and Medium-Rare burgers n steaks. No difference in taste for me, chewiness I could care less about. So I stick with Well-Done.

5. I don’t get it. It’s raw. It goes in mushy and exits mushy.

Humans have discovered fire. We don’t have to eat the animal raw right after a successful hunt. I really view it as uncivilized and animalistic.

I like medium well. Or well done.

The fibers don’t even break down for proper chewing if it’s too raw.

6. Everyone talks about how rare steaks are so “juicy” but I like a hard and smoky taste. It’s what I enjoy. I’m tired of people treating well-done steak eaters like they are doing something wrong. Steak CAN be cooked well done, and it tastes good (to people like me). In fact, I just cant eat rare steaks, I’ve tried. Something about seeing really pink meat is just off putting.

The common argument I hear is, “eating well-done steak is a waste of the meat. It can be eaten that way, yes, but its an inferior way of enjoying it and shouldn’t be done.”

Well, guess what, the world isn’t all about you and how your tastebuds work. When I get a steak, I pay for it with my own money. I enjoy what I eat and think, in my eyes, it is the best way to enjoy steak. So let off this elitism about eating steaks the “right” way.

7. I like the overall bite within a well done steak. A medium rare to me, has a soft texture that feels weird in my mouth that I just can’t bring myself to swallow it. People say well done steaks are rubbery but I’ve have tender and juicy ones.

8. I genuinely prefer the taste of dry meat over moist. I have weird tastebuds though, so I prefer everything savory to be on the Brulee side of things. Meat just doesn’t taste as good to me, if it isn’t slightly burnt.

9. I was a meat cutter for years so I was able to try a wide variety of cuts any way I felt like preparing them.

The thing that put me off rare meat was how much juice flowed out and the seemingly endless squishy chewing required to finish a bite. With a well done (but well cooked) piece it broke down a lot easier and did not fill my mouth up with the extra juice.

I’m pretty sure most of it was psychological because thinking about chewing something rare would make me gag.

What I found is that the same things that made a cut good when medium rare make it good well done – and I could most certainly tell the difference between a well cooked rib steak and a piece of chuck.

I cannot abide by meat nazis. The perfect way to cook meat is the way you, or whomever you’re serving it to, enjoys it

10. Nothing to do with the taste, everything to do with the consistency. I’m from eastern europe, here everything is well done, so when I first came to the US and tried an american steak at a somewhat upscale restaurant, don’t know if it was medium, rare, medium rare, whatever and I couldn’t care less, I thought I was gonna puke across the table. It had the consistency of rubber and phlegm, and then for a week I had the worst indigestion ever. But I didn’t give up, I continued to try american style steaks all with the same result. Even tho the taste was marginally richer than a properly cooked well done steak back home, that phlegm rubber consistency and the red water that dripped out of it put me off for the time being. Might try forcing myself to eat that stuff again next time I visit but the chances are VERY slim I’ll ever end up liking it.

Gravy-Smothered Salisbury Steak

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Ingredients

Directions

  • In a bowl, whisk the egg and milk.
  • Add bread crumbs, 1 tablespoon gravy mix and onion.
  • Crumble beef over mixture and mix well.
  • Shape into two patties, about 3/4 inches thick.
  • Broil 3-4 inches from the heat for 6-7 minutes on each side or until meat is no longer pink and a meat thermometer reads 160°.
  • Place the remaining gravy mix in a small saucepan; stir in the water and mustard. Bring to a boil; cook and stir until thickened. Serve over patties.

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9 Guys Who Were Sexually Assaulted By Women Reveal Their Story

 

1. When I was a private in the Army, a female friend in my unit became somewhat obsessive over me to the point of being a stalker after I rejected her advances. We had faulty locks on our barracks doors that could be opened with a pair of pliers.

She would casually break into my room and wait for me… so we could “talk about us.” She would normally leave if I told her to, so I didn’t think much of it.

One night I came home drunk, passed out, and woke up in the middle of the night to her giving me a bj. I didn’t even know how she got in my room. When I realized what was happening, she attempted to ride me. I pushed her off and told her to leave.

My roommate, friends, NCOs, etc, everyone just thought it was hilarious. It didn’t really bother me, but I definitely look back and see that it was wrong.

2. Friend’s mother. She was 50something, we were teenagers. She assaulted at least 4 of us. This was the cool house where you could drink, hang out etc.

For my part, she once pointed a rifle, that I assumed was loaded, at me another kid and told us to wash her dishes. Part way through she reached into my pants and started stroking me. Her husband actually walked into the room during this and when I looked to him he said “don’t look at me, she’s got the gun”

I know other friends got a lot worse than I did. She also assaulted the girl who would later be my first adult partner with a vibrator. Her daughter’s bf lived with them for a year and I’m pretty sure he got the worst of it.

When I was in my early 20s she died of a heart attack and that guy brought a 6 pack to my house to tell me. Only time I’ve toasted to someone’s death.

3. Got drunk with some friends and took a couple bars (not an uncommon Saturday night back then). One girl and I stayed up bs’ing in the kitchen. Most folks had passed out and it was a way to keep from disturbing people. The next thing I recall is waking up on the couch with her riding me and biting the hell out of my chest (the bruise lasted about a week and a half). A few other people wake up to the noises, including my girlfriend that I shared the apartment with. The girl riding me stopped to the commotion and left quickly.

I had never blacked out before and wanted to make sure I was okay (drugs are bad, mmm’kay). Toxicology turned up she had slipped some rufies in my drink at some point. Had gf go with me, because she was having a hard time believing the story. (Hot chick riding your bf in the living room while you sleep so you can work in the morning and him not wanting it). Also had them check for any STDs as people started warning us that she may be running green. Came back clean, but that night started my path to stop using drugs.

Talked to a cop friend about the situation and he, low key, advised against trying to press charges since there were drugs and alcohol present and they would have to search the place for evidence and that wouldn’t go too well for me and it would come down to her word against mine. Even with me being rufied, it would be hard to convince a jury, so I let it go.

Went about three years without seeing her anywhere, even though we ran in the same circles. Bumped into her in a grocery store and she immediately started apologizing. I told her it was in the past and I’ve moved on. She wasn’t making a scene and I didn’t really want to make one either. I don’t know that I would have had that restraint had I bumped into her shortly after the incident.

4. Long story short: Late night after the bars in college, I go home and passed out, girl knocks on my door and asks if I’m home, we know her so my roommate says yeah and lets her in. She goes straight to my room where somehow, while I lay lifeless passed out drunk, she gets me hard and starts riding me. My roommate opens my door and flips on the light and asks if she even put a condom on me first, she says no, and he kicks her out. I am informed of all this in the morning. Scary the idea that if the roles were reversed, it’d be a severely different story but I personally didn’t really care nor did anyone else when I told them. Every single response was “that’s awesome easiest lay of your life”

5. I was raped twice by two different girls. The first one was my dad’s girlfriend. I was staying with my dad and his girlfriend when I was around 16 and one weekend he went away for the weekend.

Well the moment he left his girlfriend tells me let’s go. We go to the liquor store and she tells me to pick a bottle. I drank tequila every night with my dad so I thought nothing of it.

I picked a bottle of absolute citreon and a six pack of beer. Well we start taking shots and before you know it the entire bottle is gone. I get and and throw up in the bathroom and stumble back to the couch and pass out.

That’s all I remember…… Until I wake up to her giving me a blowjob. I passed out again and she is riding me.

I couldn’t pass out after that so I pretended to sleep until she was done. The next morning I woke up ran in the shower and when I got out she was telling me about the great life we were gonna have. Well I played it off until my dad got back and told him everything. Shit blew up and I went back home with my mom and buried it in my head for 20 years.

Second time I was drinking with a bunch of friends and a friend who was staying with me was seeing this girl.

Well the girl he was seeing had another girl who was sleeping at her house so I had to drive them all. The whole drive to my house this girl is saying she was gonna fuck me. I sorta laughed and said nahhh I’m good.

You fucking with my other boy and I got a girl. Well she wouldn’t take no for a answer. When we got to my house I told my friend not to leave us alone. As soon as I use the bathroom I get back to my room and this girl is naked in my bed.

I go to leave the room and she runs over and closes the door and litterally pushes me onto a chair. I get a flashback of the first time and I freeze. I let her do her thing and I went to bed.

I never told anyone and my girlfriend at the time ended up being my wife. She put up with my depression for about 15 years before she got tired of it and I finally told her.

It was like a huge wieght off my chest. I still never drink around females unless my wife is around and I have a hard time looking females in the face when I talk to them. It really fucked me up. If I have 1 drop of alcohol my dick is dead to the world. I get such bad anxiety and the occasional flashback.

6. Ended up in my exes room because she said she wanted to talk. She locked to door and told me she wanted to fuck. Told her no repeatedly and she started slapping and kicking me every time I tried to leave.

I told her I was gonna yell for help and she said “who are my roommates gonna believe you or me?”.

So I tried calling my friend to come help me but she took me phone and threw it into her closet, with the same kicking (balls) and slapping me.

I finally relented and let her do whatever she wanted then packed up my things left and completely blocked her off of everything.

7. I got nearly blackout drunk with my roommates and floor mates in first year, the night before our first exam. Went to bed alone, they staid up drinking. Woke up (vague drunken awareness ) to a girl trying to stuff my whiskey dick inside her. Didn’t really know what to do and just sort of drunkenly let her continue. I was extremely confused as this girl was an out lesbian, I had no idea what was going on. Tried to off my self a few days later.

Took a long time to admit to myself that it even happened, maybe it contributed a bit to trying to kill myself? Cuz I was in a miserable terrible black hole for the next months and eventually switched schools. It took a long time to even consciously connect the dots. Never really told anyone cuz I couldn’t really even admit to myself that maybe, that wasn’t a cool thing of her to do.

And if I did tell anyone other than a therapist I have a hard time believing they would be supportive. MY close, lifelong friends already think I’m a wee bit of a slut (some truth), especially because I’m not looking for commitment in any form. So I imagine people would be super dismissive. At the time my roommates sort of tongue in cheek congratulated me, because you know, isn’t that the dream?

“You were drunk in first year and hooked up with a lesbian?! Legendary!”

8. I was raped by my college roomate’s girlfriend. This happened around sophomore year of college. One of my roomates had been dating this girl off an in for about 8 months or so.

She was a tall, athletic, attractive red head. She had that oh so famous red head temper. My roommate was also not the best boyfriend.

They fought a lot in our apartment. Several times, I was forced to physically get between them to prevent an altercation and/or our stuff getting broken. These fights happened at least once a week, and almost every time they drank.

One Friday, she tells me that she wants to set me up with one of her soriorty sisters, so we 4 (roommate, roommate’s gf, gf’s friend, and myself) all go out to the clubs. The night was going surprisingly well.

The friend and I didn’t really connect in a romantic level, but we were all having a good time none the less. At one of the clubs, it’s my turn to buy a round, I’m standing at the bar, trying to tune out the loud music, when I feel an arm reach around from behind me and grab my crotch.

Natural reaction, I turn to see who it was and see my roomates gf standing behind me grinning… I carefully removed her hand, and tried to mentally brush it off as the alcohol getting to her.

Fast forward another two hours and we are in the cab going back to our apartment. Roomate and girlfriend are loudly fighting about something, while the friend and I are sitting in uncomfortable silence.

It is at this point, things get really blurry, it was as if all of the nights alcohol hit me all at once.

I remember us getting back to our apartment parking lot and my roomate and his girlfriend are shouting at each other. I throw the driver a bill and stumble back to our apartment with girlfriends friend in tow, leaving them to fight outside. I don’t know where the friend crashed, I just walked straight in and straight to my bed. I don’t think that I even took my club clothes off.

Don’t know how much time passed, but get the feeling of something wet around my crotch area and on my stomach.

My initial thought, before opening my eyes, was that I pissed myself. Upon opening my eyes, I see my roomates girlfriend on top of me, riding me. I sobered up in that one second and quickly shoved her off of me.

I just remember saying “WTF are you doing?!” and her saying VERY loudly, “Well someone else won’t fuck me!” as if she wanted my roomate to hear. I told her to get out, and she did whilst calling me an asshole.

I lay there for a minute trying to analyze what just happened, when I start to feel sick. Not sure if it was the alcohol or the incident that just occurred, but I ran to the bathroom to puke. I returned to my bed and fell back asleep.

I never brought it up with my roomate or his girlfriend. I dont know if she ever told him. He told me the next day that he was so blasted that he didn’t remember anything after we left the club.

The sorority sister was no where to be found the next morning. Roomate and his girlfriend broke up for good not long after that.

I still see her around town every now and then. We are cordial we speak, but I have never brought up the incident. I’m not even 100% sure if she remembers doing it. To be honest, even I have confused feelings about it to this day.

Artist Illustrates Everyday Life With His Wife In Funny Comics

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Yehuda Adi Devir is a Tel-Aviv-based illustrator, comic artist and character designer who creates adorable comics about his daily domestic adventures with his wife, Maya. Whether she’s ridding the house of roaches, using him as her personal radiator (or pillow), motivating him to work out, or destroying the kitchen while preparing complex meals (like cereal), Yehuda’s wife provides him with all the inspiration he needs to create his cute and often relatable comics.

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What’s It Like To Have Cluster Headaches

 

Can you describe what the pain feels like?

Firstly, it is one-sided. > 95% of the time for me it is left hand side. Imagine a clamp around your head tightening, but at the same time there is a sharp hot object behind your left eye trying to drill an exit hole through your eye. The clamp continues to tighten – and every time that you bargain with the universe that “OK, thats my limit, stop now pleas” it tightens a little more. You vomit, loss of balance, and sometimes get quite scared for no real reason. You know what is going on (most of the time) but you have a deep feeling of fear. I also taste stone at the top of my head (how weird).

 

I’ve been run over at an estimated 40 MPH, I’ve broken legs, arms, dislocated knees and nothing comes close to this. It does take you to a new level of pain – and the human body can take more than you can imagine.

Cluster headache are probably the worst pain that humans experience.

How does it compare to getting kicked in the balls?

About the way getting flicked on the arm feels compared to getting a steak knife driven into it.

Do you ever contemplate suicide?

To be brutally honest – yes, at the worst moments, it is an option. Anything to kill the pain. Now that I am on O2 therapy and we are stabilizing the daily attacks, that has helped. Sometimes, when you are in a three day attack with no relief, it does seem like the only route, but most of the time it actually makes you appreciate the good moments more.

Did you say 3 day attacks? Like non-stop? How do you eat / sleep / work?

You learn to adapt – and so do your family. The main clusters are timed: 01:15 and 05:00 are my worst ones – using oxygen and at least one dose of Imigran Injection. The challenge is that you can only use two Imigram per day – so whilst it does abort the attack, it has limited use in any 24 hour period. The pure O2 therapy works very well, and my wife and kids notice the warning signs now before me, so I can now bang on the O2 for half an hour as it come on. Its not the most fun I can imagine, but you learn to cope. I work my own business, so I can program from home when my body allows me to work, and they guys at work are amazing as well.

Having a family and workmates that are understanding is the best thing in the world though. They know that when the beast kicks in, it takes priority over everything – Everything – I mean Christmas, New Years, Birthday, misses then all because of this damn thing, it just takes over when it wants to. But hey, its not terminal, I’m alive, and people have it worse.

How long do the attacks usually last for you?

It can be as short as 1.5 hours if it wants to responds to the oxygen and Zomig – AND if I spot it in time, rising to three hours if it feels like being stubborn or if I didn’t treat it in-time (with headaches for the rest of the day but at least the major attack is over)

Worst case, this can be up to three days if untreated or just because its my turn to get a long one and my body decides fuck you, thats why.

Is oxygen the best way to alleviate the pain?

Yeah, the oxygen is the best thing that Ive tried aside from the Imigran (but that has limited uses in a day -O2 is unlimited and 100% natural). I will normally sit on the oxygen for half an hour and it may abourt, or at least hold it off long enough for something else to take effect (Zomig or zydol depending on severity.)

Are you able to do anything when you have a headache?

No, fraid not. Its complete zombie state. Lying in bed, crying, waiting for the pain to pass, cant cook, hard time walking, dont really feel like eating or drinking. This can lead to problems in the longer ones because you have to keep hydrated, but IF you just dont drink any fluids when you are in one – then this just extends your cluster period!

What’s the most unconventional or weirdest thing you tried to stop the pain?

Weirdest thing was trying to knock myself out – ran head first at walls, blood let, hit my kneecap with a brick to distract the pain – none of it worked!

When did you first start getting the attacks?

About 15 years ago – started off as migraines then (one every three months), but changed forms about 6 years ago and became increasingly regular. The Dr admitted that this was not migraine behaviour, did the usual CAT scans etc, and eventually sent to a Neurologist. Good boy NHS, the Neurologist instantly know what was. The O2 therapy and Imigran cant be cheap, but welcome to the UK -the NHS do not let that cross their mind – once they have you diagnosed, they do everything they can to help.

I don’t remember the first specifically, but I was around 14-15 when they first started, and my reaction was generally to throw up and go sit in the closet in the dark with a blanket over my head because that’s the only thing that felt better.

I also shared a room with my younger brother at the time, who was quite loud and annoying, so I tended to be very violent and throw things at him when I had a headache and he wouldn’t turn down his TV or stop being annoying.

Do you know what causes them?

I have some basic triggers (dehydration, tiredness etc) but not the usual migraine triggers like food, coffee, paint, perfume etc.

What’s the difference between cluster headaches and migraines?

Cluster headaches are generally several orders of magnitude more painful, focused, and come one after another in “clusters” hence the name. They are not triggered by anything we know of, unlike migraines that can be brought on by light, sounds, etc. They can also disappear for months, even years at a time, only to come back nonstop for even weeks without rest.

Have you ever been confronted by someone saying “some event” hurts more. If so how did it go down?

Yeah, I’ve had that. “Just take a few ibuprofen and walk it off, or drink some water” thanks random co-worker, if only I had thought of that sooner.

I know some people are really trying to help, but some people are so bitchy and passremarkable. That soon stops the day you simply collapse in a heap, featal like on the deck, unable to move, ambulance called as you can’t even speak properly (one co-worker later said I sounded possessed!). That tends to let them know what scale of pain we are really talking about. The comments soon stop after that

What medicine do you take for it? Have you tried medical mj?

I don’t take any prescription medication for them currently. I used to have 800mg Ibuprofen, but they stopped working. I had the opportunity to try Vicodin for them, and it did not do anything but make me pee a lot.

Marijuana doesn’t do anything for them either. It does help to distract my thoughts sometimes, but I wouldn’t really consider that a treatment.

Have you ever tried morphine-based drugs to alleviate the pain?

A few of the medications are morphine based – and whilst they lift the smaller attacks, the problem with them is two fold: 1.) Time taken for the body to absorb. They just take too long to get into the system. By the time the pain killing element kicks in, the pain level is beyond medicating. The injection or the O2 is a lot more direct and quicker. 2.) Rebound headaches. Yeah, the human body is a scumbag. It can give you rebound headaches so that it can get more codine or zydol!!

The injections are amazing – BUT worth pointing out that they are not traditional pain killers. if you were in any sort of pain, I could give you this and it would have no effect at all. They work by changing the expansion/contraction of the blood vessels in the brain and perhaps also assist with Serotonin binding – but to be honest, the medical trade know they work but are not 100% sure why!

I hear small doses of Psilocybin have been known to virtually cure cluster headaches. It is also a legal form of treatment.

Ive heard they work, but not tried them yet. I rule out nothing. I would inject heroin directly into my eyeball during an attack if you said that it would help!

Are there any long term side effects? Are these headaches slowly damaging you beyond repair, or is it literally just a shit load of pain and nothing more?

As far as I know, there is no long term damage to the brain – which is so reassuring. At first, you can not believe that you can have this level of pain without some sort of scaring on the brain, but its more down to blood vessels in the brain contracting (or expanding, can never remember which) and causing the most unbelievable pain. I am so grateful that there is no long term damage though….

Is there any illness/disease you would NOT prefer to have?

Yeah, despite the pain and general cr-pness of this condition, lets face it – people have worse. its not terminal for a start. But if we are thinking non-terminal, my sister in law has MS and that scares me. Also Alzheimer’s sounds really scary, as does Parkinsons. I think they scare me worse than what i have.

Big hair on attractive women and American marine Generals that plan to destroy China just as successfully as they are destroying Russia

Welcome to 2023. Buckle up for the great roller coaster ride.

Saudi Arabia is no longer going to be trading in the USD. The rest of the Middle East will follow. Say “good bye” to the use of the dollar as a global reserve currency, and hello others.

Davos 2023: Saudi Arabia ‘open’ to discuss trading in non-dollar currencies – Al-Monitor: Independent, trusted coverage of the Middle East

He is a brave man to make this type of public announcement. 

Like Putin and Xi, this man deserve noble peace price for speeding up the liberation process of the oppressed people across the world. 

Obviously, after US suffered internal injury for initiating a full scale trade war against China, and failing to crush Russia economically with full scale looting and supporting ukraine war.

The world no longer afraid of the head of the imperialistic barbarian nations.

Let’s talk food…

Pennsylvania Dutch Sour Cream Cabbage

Pennsylvania Dutch Sour Cream Cabbage
Pennsylvania Dutch Sour Cream Cabbage

Ingredients

  • 1 medium head cabbage, shredded
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil (for frying)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 pint (2 cups) sour cream
  • 2 cups distilled white vinegar

Instructions

  1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
  2. Add cabbage, salt and pepper and cook until tender, 15 to 20 minutes.
  3. Mix sugar and flour together in a medium bowl, then add sour cream and mix well; finally stir in vinegar and mix well.
  4. Add mixture to cabbage and simmer all together until desired consistency is reached.

Let’s Talk About The Catastrophic Rise Of Egg Prices…

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Do you remember when you could buy a dozen eggs for 99 cents?

It seems like it was only yesterday, but unfortunately those days are now gone for good.

Thanks to a variety of factors, egg prices have risen to levels that we have never seen before, and in some areas of the country significant shortages are being reported.

In fact, things are so bad that Whole Foods is apparently “now limiting egg carton purchases to two per person”.

This is extremely alarming, because millions of U.S. households have traditionally relied on eggs as a cheap source of protein.

Unfortunately, it appears that eggs will not be “cheap” for the foreseeable future.  According to an article that originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the average price of a dozen eggs in California actually reached $7.37 this week…

Egg cases were bare across Los Angeles County this week, from Trader Joe’s in Long Beach to Amazon Fresh in Inglewood, Target in MidCity to Ralphs in Glendale. Those such as Hodges who found cartons were shocked by the sudden spike in price.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Anna Sanchez, 32, who scoured the half-empty shelves at a Smart & Final in University Park looking for a dozen eggs for less than $10. “The cheaper ones just aren’t there.”

The average retail price for a dozen large eggs jumped to $7.37 in California this week, up from $4.83 at the beginning of December and just $2.35 at this time last year, data from the U.S. Department of Agriculture show.

Can you imagine paying 7 dollars for a carton of eggs?

I certainly cannot.

Thankfully, prices are not quite as high elsewhere in the nation.  One of the reasons why egg prices in California are so absurd is because of a new law that went into effect last January

Since the law went into effect last January, all eggs sold in California have to be produced in cage-free settings. But cage-free production takes much more space than conventional egg production, and California producers aren’t able to keep up with demand.

“They’re selling everything they can possibly grow,” Mattos said.

Of course egg prices have also been skyrocketing in states that do not have such laws.

All over the nation, people are now paying 4 or 5 dollars for a dozen eggs, and many believe that our ongoing bird flu pandemic is the primary factor that is causing prices to go completely nuts…

But egg prices are up significantly more than other foods — even more than chicken or turkey — because egg farmers were hit harder by the bird flu. More than 43 million of the 58 million birds slaughtered over the past year to control the virus have been egg-laying chickens, including some farms with more than a million birds apiece in major egg-producing states like Iowa.

More than 50 million chickens and turkeys have also been wiped out in Europe.

So when you combine the two totals, so far well over 100 million chickens and turkeys have been killed in just the United States and Europe.

And there is no end to the bird flu pandemic in sight.

This is a major crisis, but up to this point the mainstream media has not been focusing on it very much.

On top of everything else, egg farmers have had to deal with rapidly rising costs in recent months.

In fact, there are some in the industry that insist that the huge cost increases that egg farmers have been hit with over the past year are even a bigger factor than the bird flu

But the president and CEO of the American Egg Board trade group, Emily Metz, said she believes all the cost increases farmers have faced in the past year were a bigger factor in the price increases than bird flu.

“When you’re looking at fuel costs go up, and you’re looking at feed costs go up as much as 60%, labor costs, packaging costs — all of that … those are much much bigger factors than bird flu for sure,” Metz said.

Many anticipate that these costs will only go higher in 2023.

And that will mean even higher prices for the rest of us.

I really feel badly for small bakeries.  They use lots and lots of eggs, and if egg prices continue to go up many small bakeries could soon be forced to close

“Small businesses especially, you live and die by what your food costs are,” said Tracy Ann Devore, owner of KnowRealityPie in Eagle Rock, who recently let go a dishwasher to stem rising costs. “If this keeps up for another three to six months, it could be a tipping point for some bakeries to close.”

For Devore and many others, the new egg crisis, combined with uncertainty about when it could ebb, has been more unsettling than the gradual price creep of dairy products, flour and produce.

“At some point, you can’t raise the price anymore,” Devore said. “There’s been points where I’ve cried recently, because I thought, ‘How are we going to keep going with this?'”

Our food industry was stable for so many years, but now we are witnessing a dramatic shift.

Costs are going through the roof, and supply problems just keep popping up.

Just like we have witnessed at other times, empty shelves are starting to be reported at certain supermarkets around the nation…

Social media is brimming with reports of missing food items at Kroger supermarket locations across the country.

A repeat of early 2020 when toilet paper and other essentials ran bare, the start of 2023 is seeing “a lot of empty shelves” at Kroger, according to numerous reports, some containing video evidence of lingering supply chain problems.

We are getting dangerously close to the days that I have been warning about.

As we are hit by one crisis after another throughout 2023, I expect our supply chain problems to continue to intensify.

So I would encourage you to stock up while you still can.

Yes, prices may seem ridiculously high now, but the truth is that they aren’t going to be getting any lower than they are at this moment.

This is what I see every day.

Surprises from Japan

The Japanese are on a suicide mission: history is the DNA of a nation. Unless they are badly beaten and weaken, their political behaviour will never changed. They are still a threat to humanity and world harmony:
On January 12, Japan began building a Self-Defense Force base on Mageshima, an island in Kagoshima Prefecture. The facility will be constructed as part of a plan to relocate the joint naval and marine exercises with the US.

It would serve as a new training facility for US carrier-based F/A-18 Super Hornets and F-35 fighters to simulate aircraft carrier landings close to China. The SDF will also employ the site as a logistic and maintenance depot to defend Japan’s Nansei southwest islands.

The ministry also intends to construct a runway, hangars, and pier facilities for ships used by the Self-Defense Forces. Although the development is anticipated to take roughly four years, the ministry wants to finish the runway and associated facilities in about 24 months. ...

HERE

When Big Hair Roamed The Earth: The Hairstyle That Defined The 1960s

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Not too much to say that big hair style roamed the earth during the 1960s. The bigger the hair, the more beautiful. It was a general trend for ’60s women. Check out these lovely snapshots to know the reason why it defined the 1960s fashion.

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This is the subway in Wuhan. If you recall, the narrative out of the USA is that Wuhan was dirty and filthy and that was because the “Wuhan virus” came into being. This is the reality…

6 Illustrations That Sum Up Instagram Perfectly

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How many photos of food, hotel pools and sketchy supplements advertised by people who have nothing to do with nutrition have you seen the last time you were on Instagram? “Too many” is probably the answer you are looking for. Tired of this ridiculous Instagram culture, Russian artist Anton Gudim (previously) created a series of tongue-in-cheek illustrations that sum it all up perfectly.

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When traveling, you can’t help but notice how some people are more focused on taking the perfect picture for their social media account instead of actually enjoying the place they are at. But then again, how else would your followers know you’ve been to the Eiffel tower? Or was it the Big Ben? Who cares, really, as long as the picture collected a lot of likes. “It’s based on my own experience, I’ve seen millions of photos like this on Instagram,” said the artist in an interview with Bored Panda. “It’s not my intention to provide social commentary on the shallow and narcissistic habits of the modern world, that’s for the reader to decide with their own interpretation.” Anton says his comics are a way to discover the depths of his own imagination and that he’s glad they can inspire and entertain other people. “I am not out to make people laugh, but I do believe that it’s important for artists to add a little humor into their works,” says the artist.

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Will The Implosion Of The Tech Industry Bring Down The Entire U.S. Economy?

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The tech industry has become one of the central pillars of our economy, and tech stocks led the way up during the stock market boom.

But now tech stocks have been crashing and many of our biggest tech industry companies have been laying off large numbers of workers.

If the strongest sector of our economy continues to rapidly deteriorate in 2023, what will that mean for our weaker sectors?

I think that the answer to that question is obvious.

The truth is that we are in far bigger trouble than “the experts” realize, but most people still assume that everything will work out just fine somehow.

If economic conditions were really about to “return to normal”, the tech industry would not be laying off thousands upon thousands of workers.  The following comes from a CNN article entitled “Silicon Valley layoffs go from bad to worse”

At Amazon and other tech companies, the second half of last year was marked by hiring freezes, layoffs and other cost-cutting measures at a number of household names in Silicon Valley. But if 2022 was the year the good times ended for these tech companies, 2023 is already shaping up to be a year when people at those companies brace for how much worse things can get.

Did you catch that last part?

Even CNN is admitting that 2023 will be even worse for the tech industry than 2022 was.

Of course last year was really, really bad for the tech industry.  According to Challenger, Gray & Christmas, tech layoffs “were up 649% in 2022”.

I was floored when I first saw that figure.

649 percent is a pretty big shift.

And one prominent private equity CEO just warned Fox Business that we could see a “bloodbath” for tech stocks during the months ahead…

In an interview with FOX Business on Friday, Eric Schiffer, CEO of the private equity firm, The Patriarch Organization, said: “Because tech is so oversold, there might be potential exits for a limited short-term bear rally, but there is a danger facing shareholders.”

Shareholders should brace themselves for a deeper brutal tech bloodbath driven by the Fed and its ‘Terminator’ like mission to raise rates and wipe out inflation,” he warned. “Many tech companies will enact job carnage in the first quarter, with Salesforce and Amazon just the start.”

The tech-heavy Nasdaq is already down by about a third from the peak of the market, and trillions of tech stock wealth has already been wiped out.

So what will things look like if we actually see another “bloodbath” for tech stocks this year?

At this point, I don’t think that most Americans realize what is coming.

Mass layoffs are already starting to happen all over America, and one economist that was just interviewed by CNN believes that conditions will be even worse “by the end of the first quarter”

“I think we’re seeing an inflection point; the rate of jobs growth is slowing and a lot of these tech layoffs that we’re hearing about, I think are going to start materializing across the broader economy by the end of the first quarter,” John Leer, chief economist at Morning Consult told CNN’s Chief Business Correspondent Christine Romans in an interview Friday.

Sadly, the truth is that the U.S. economy has been bleeding good jobs for quite some time now.

According to Fox Business, the official numbers that the government has been giving us show that the U.S. economy has been losing an average of 2,100 full-time jobs since May…

But there are more disturbing trends present in the data. The economy has been losing full-time jobs at an alarming rate: 2,100 every day since May. Employers are shifting from full-time to part-time jobs, which often occurs before those businesses stop hiring altogether. Then, layoffs arrive.

This is often what we see as our economy heads into a major downturn.

First, many employers start shifting from full-time employees to part-time employees, and then when things get bad enough they just start dumping workers.

And at this point we are already starting to see some of the wealthiest companies in America let people go.  In fact, Goldman Sachs is going to be giving thousands of highly paid employees the axe starting on Wednesday

The global investment bank is letting go of as many as 3,200 employees starting Wednesday, according to a person with knowledge of the firm’s plans.

That amounts to 6.5% of the 49,100 employees Goldman had in October, which is below the 8% reported last month as the upper end of possible cuts.

Meanwhile, the cost of living continues to go even higher.

Earlier today, I was stunned to learn that natural gas bills for many residents of southern California could soon double

Southern California Gas Co. and San Diego Gas & Electric have issued stark warnings to customers that their January natural gas bills could double, citing factors for historically high wholesale costs that include sinking inventories, supply constraints and a cold start to winter that has soaked the West Coast.

And even though the Federal Reserve has been taking extreme measures to fight inflation, food prices just continue to soar to absurd heights.

Survey after survey has shown that a solid majority of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck right now.

As the cost of living becomes increasingly oppressive, more Americans are turning to their credit cards for help…

New data released by the Census Bureau this week found that more than 35% of households used credit cards or loans in December to assist with spending needs in the past week. That marks an increase from 32% in November and just 21% in April 2021, according to the Household Pulse Survey.

The rise in credit card usage is somewhat concerning because interest rates are astronomically high right now. The average credit card APR, or annual percentage rate, set a new record high of 19.14% last week, according to a Bankrate.com database that goes back to 1985. The previous record was 19% in July 1991.

The greed of the credit card companies seemingly knows no bounds.

As I have repeatedly warned my readers, you do not want to be carrying a lot of debt during the hard economic times that are coming.

19.14 percent is the average rate on credit card balances now, and that means that half of the country has rates that are even higher than that.

Ouch!

If you are currently carrying credit card debt, I would encourage you to get that paid off as soon as you can.

Because economic conditions are only going to get harsher from here, and you definitely don’t want to be financially crippled by high interest debt during the severe crisis that is rapidly approaching.

SHEN ZHEN SUBWAY Gang Xia North Station

All of these videos are taken in different cities. It shows China as most people who live here observe it. I have to laugh when some jack ass says that China is a third world nation.

Pennsylvania Dutch Cherry Pie

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Ingredients

  • 1 pastry circle from 15 ounce refrigerated pie crust
  • 2 (21 ounce) cans cherry pie filling
  • 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon grated orange peel
  • 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/3 cup butter or margarine
  • 1/4 cup unblanched almonds

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
  2. Fit pie crust into a 9-inch pie plate. Lightly dampen underside of crust and turn edge under pressing firmly to rim of pie plate.
  3. In a large bowl, combine pie filling and orange peel. Spoon into pie crust. Set aside.
  4. In a small bowl combine flour, sugar and cinnamon. Using pastry cutter or blender, cut in butter until it resembles coarse crumbs. Sprinkle mixture over cherry pie filling, covering completely and evenly.
  5. Bake for 20 minutes until filling is hot and top is golden brown.
  6. Sprinkle with almonds.

The More You Connect, The Less You Connect

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We also created a series of cartoons about how smartphones have altered our lives, not necessarily for the better. The caption at the bottom of the image reads “The More You Connect, The Less You Connect” – do you agree? . . . . .

Come on! How can the USA even dare compare?

US military “setting the theatre” for war with China

In a remarkably frank interview with the Financial Times yesterday, the top US Marine general in Japan declared that US-NATO successes against Russia in Ukraine were a product of advance planning and preparations—“setting the theatre” for war in military jargon. That was exactly what the Pentagon was doing in Japan and Asia, he explained, in preparing for conflict against China over Taiwan.

“Why have we achieved the level of success we’ve achieved in Ukraine?” Lieutenant General James Bierman asked rhetorically. A big part of it, he explained, was that after what he termed “Russian aggression” in 2014 and 2015, “we earnestly got after preparing for future conflict: training for the Ukrainians, pre-positioning of supplies, identification of sites from which we could operate support, sustain operations.”

“We call that setting the theatre. And we are setting the theatre in Japan, in the Philippines, in other locations.” In other words, the US is setting a trap for China by goading it into taking military action against Taiwan in the same way that it provoked Russia into invading Ukraine following the US-backed coup in 2014 that toppled a pro-Russian government.

Lieutenant General James Bierman is commanding general of the Third Marine Expeditionary Force (III MEF) and of Marine Forces Japan. Significantly, the III MEF is the only Marine crisis response force permanently stationed outside the US. In other words, Bierman and his Marines would be on the front line of any US-led conflict with China.

As the Financial Times explained, the III MEF is “at the heart of a sweeping reform of the Marine Corps.” Its focus is being shifted from the “war on terror” in the Middle East to “creating small units that specialise in operating quickly and clandestinely in the islands and straits of east Asia and the western Pacific to counter Beijing’s ‘anti-access area denial’ strategy.”

The US plans for war against China—known as AirSea Battle—envisage a massive air and missile assault on Chinese military bases and strategic industries supported by warships and submarines. The Pentagon has been increasingly concerned about China’s military abilities to defend its territory and secure neighbouring seas—“anti access area denial” with its own missiles and naval vessels.

US war preparations with Japan are proceeding apace. As Bierman boasted, the two militaries have “seen exponential increases . . . just over the last year” in their activities on territory from which they would operate during a war. In recent exercises, the Marines for the first time established bilateral ground tactical co-ordination centres rather than liaising with a separate Japanese command point.

The aim is far closer integration of American and Japanese forces. Instead of Japanese military groups being rotated to operate alongside US forces in Japan, specific units have now been designated as part of the “stand-in force” alongside their US Marine, Navy and Air Force counterparts.

Bierman also pointed out that similar preparations are being made in the Philippines where the government intends to allow the US to preposition weapons and other supplies on five more bases in addition to five where it already has access. “You gain a leverage point, a base of operations, which allows you to have a tremendous head start in different operational plans,” he enthused.

The US-led war against Russia in Ukraine and its intensifying confrontation with China are two sides of a strategy to dominate the vast Eurasian landmass that threatens to plunge humanity into a nuclear holocaust.

While Bierman is highlighting the advanced operational planning for war with China, it is being matched by huge increases in military spending by both the US and Japan.

Stars and Stripes reported on January 2 that the new US defence budget approved last month by President Biden included billions of dollars for new military infrastructure and strategic initiatives across the Pacific. The Indo-Pacific Command already has some 375,000 military and civilian personnel working across the region.

The Command’s headquarters in Hawaii get $87.9 million for barracks; $103 million for upgrading missile storage facilities; $111 million for a company operations facility, and $29 million for an Army National Guard Readiness Center.

The Navy will receive $32 billion alone for new warships and 36 F-35 aircraft, each costing about $89 million. The funding also includes $621 million for two SSN-774 Virginia class attack submarines that are expected to conduct operations in the Pacific and receive maintenance at Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard.

To counter Chinese weapons, the Army is upgrading artillery and missile systems, seeking new longer-range cannons and hypersonic weapons while modifying air- and sea-launched missiles and cruise missiles for ground launch by Army units.

The Japanese government announced last month that it would double military spending over the next five years between 2023 and 2027 to about $US80 billion or 2 percent of GDP. The associated national defence documents explicitly identify China as “an unprecedented and the greatest strategic challenge.”

The Japanese military will buy a range of offensive weapons, including cruise missiles like Lockheed Martin’s Tomahawk and Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile (JASSM). It is also planning to upgrade its own Type 12 guided missiles that can be fired from the surface, ships, or aircrafts to strike naval vessels, and to manufacture its own hypersonic guided missiles.

Japan will also boost its missile sites. It has already begun to militarise its southern islands immediately adjacent to Taiwan and off the Chinese mainland, including Amami, Miyako, Ishigaki, and Yonaguni Islands. Tokyo has deployed or intends to deploy missile and electronic warfare units to these islands, in addition to constructing ammunition and fuel depots.

Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida set off Sunday on a tour of Europe and North America focussed on bolstering military ties. He will visit both Britain and Italy, which are joint partners in a deal agreed last month to build new advanced fighters. He is also expected to sign an agreement in Britain to establish the framework for visits by each other’s military forces.

Kishida’s final stop will be in the US where he will hold talks with Biden at the White House that will discuss military collaboration, Japan’s purchase of US missiles and efforts to block China’s access to advanced semi-conductors. As part of the US economic war on China, Biden has imposed a series of bans on the sale to China of advanced computer chips or the machinery required to develop and manufacture them. The Japanese defence and foreign ministers are due to hold a round of talks with the American counterparts on Wednesday in Washington.

At the same time, the US is about to conduct a provocative, official trip to Taiwan—an island that it de-facto recognises under the One China policy as being part of China with Beijing as the legitimate government. Terry McCartin, the top US official responsible for trade with China, is due to arrive in Taipei on Saturday to lead a delegation that will include officials from other government agencies.

The visit to Taiwan by US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi last August, sanctioned by the White House, provoked sharp tensions and a dangerous show of force by both sides in surrounding waters. By strengthening trade and military ties with Taipei, Washington is deliberately pushing Beijing into a corner to force it to fire the first shot in a war over Taiwan that the US has prepared for in advance.

As Lieutenant General Bierman crudely explained: “As we square off with the Chinese adversary, who is going to own the starting pistol and is going to have the ability potentially to initiate hostilities . . . we can identify decisive key terrain that must be held, secured, defended, leveraged.”

Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken and Flat Dumplings

Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken and Flat Dumplings
Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken and Flat Dumplings

Ingredients

  • 1 large (5 pound) washed chicken
  • 1 large onion, quartered
  • 3 stalks celery, cut into large chunks
  • 1 teaspoon whole peppercorn
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons salt

Instructions

  1. Place chicken in a 6- to 8-quart stockpot. Add remaining ingredients. Bring to boil. Simmer until chicken is done, about 2 hours.
  2. When cool, remove bones and fat from chicken. Cut into pieces, and return to pot.
  3. Noodles: In a bowl, mix together 2 cups flour and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Make a well in the center, and gradually work 4 eggs into the flour until stiff dough is formed, adding water a little at a time if necessary. Knead until smooth. Divide dough in half. Roll each half as thin as possible then cut into thin 1-2 inch squares.
  4. Bring the broth back to rolling boil. Drop noodle squares one at a time, making sure each are drenched in broth. Reduce heat, cover and continue to cook until noodles are done, about 8 minutes. DON’T PEEK!
  5. Serve in large bowl and ladle onto plates at the table. Serve with chopped onion.

Photo Manipulations by Geir Akselsen

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Fantastic photo manipulations by Geir Akselsen, a graphic designer and photographer from Norway.

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Japan joining US’ chip export ban against China could leave its semiconductor industry stifled: experts

Japan, once a semiconductor giant half a century ago but then brutally beaten down by the US, is reportedly moving to join the US in expanding chip export controls on China, as leaders of the two countries are set to meet on Friday.

“For better or worse, Japan’s semiconductor strategy is moving in accordance with what the US wants,” a chip industry source was reported as saying by Reuters, while Chinese experts said that the Japanese government is losing independence even in its advantageous industry. If it keeps letting itself become a “sidekick” of the US, Japan’s semiconductor industry could be completely strangled in the next five to 10 years, they warned.

At a press briefing on Friday, Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Wang Wenbin said in response to the possible semiconductor export restrictions that the US has repeatedly abused export controls, politicized and weaponized economic and trade issues, imposed economic coercion on allies, and maliciously suppressed Chinese enterprises by decoupling supply chains, which seriously undermines market rules and the international trade order. It will not only harm the legitimate rights and interests of Chinese enterprises, but also damage the stability of the global supply chain.

US President Joe Biden and Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida are set to meet in Washington on Friday. A senior US administration official told media that the two leaders are expected to discuss security and global economy issues, as well as semiconductor exports to China.

American officials have been quick to play down the differences between the two allies while touting an ever-closer strategic alignment with Japan, praising Tokyo’s plan for its biggest military buildup since World War II as its rivalry with China in the region grows, Reuters reported on Friday.

“I think there’s a very, very similar vision of the challenges,” a senior US official said on Wednesday, according to the report, adding that while Japanese export restrictions may not be exactly the same as US controls, “I don’t think the Japanese question the basic premise that we need to be working closely together on this.”

However, Japan’s hesitation is evident. The Kishida administration, while admitting its country is broadly in line with the goals of the White House, has been vague about to what extent it will join in.

The hesitation comes largely from the country’s leading chip producers’ reliance on China to thrive. According to media reports, Japan is a top producer of specialized tooling equipment needed to manufacture advanced chips, and its companies hold 27 percent of global market share.

Tokyo Electron, Japan’s leading chip manufacturing equipment maker, relies on China for about a quarter of its revenue.

Japan’s semiconductor industry in the 80s and 90s was once in the world’s absolute leading position, holding half the global share in the late 1980s. But it was later suppressed by the US in various ways, including export restrictions similar to today’s, which allowed chipmakers in South Korea and China’s Taiwan to make deeper inroads into the industry.

According to a report by the White House in June 2021, the world’s semiconductor manufacturing capacity is now concentrated in East Asia, with China’s Taiwan accounting for 20 percent of the global total in 2019, followed by South Korea, Japan, the Chinese mainland and the US.

Japan still has some residual advantages in the industry, leading not on key links but in some upstream technology, such as optical technology. But on the whole, Japan no longer has much say in this field, Lü Xiang, an expert on US studies and a research fellow at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, told the Global Times on Friday.

The interests of Japan and the US in this regard are definitely not the same, the expert noted, as the US has its own upstream suppliers in Europe and has little room left for Japan.

“If Japan is to tie itself to the US-desired semiconductor closed loop that excludes China, it will seriously reduce Japan’s few existing advantages. In the next five to 10 years, if such a closed loop is really formed, it will cut off Japan’s ability to independently develop the global market, and the Japanese semiconductor industry could be utterly stifled,” Lü warned.

While on the technological front Japan still has some strength, its political positions are completely manipulated by the US, and it’s growing even more reliant now with the current government seeming much weaker and more helpless, observers said.

Apart from discussions on semiconductors, Japan and the US are expected to expand cooperation in areas including artificial intelligence, quantum and other cutting-edge technologies in a bid to counter China. A joint document is expected to be released on strengthening the Japan-US alliance after the leaders’ talks.

In addition to cutting off supply chains for China, top defense and diplomatic officials from both countries have vowed to strengthen their military alliance and security cooperation, citing the “greatest strategic challenge” from China. Chinese experts said that a closer military alliance with the US, while adopting a more aggressive posture, would mean a more dangerous position for Japan, and the provocative military alliance would not be welcomed by regional countries.

Thinking of preemptive nuclear strike? Why bother to find excuse?

EU sets up ‘nuclear’ stockpile in Finland to respond to chemical and nuclear emergencies.
Oh, that's fucking great! What idiot is running Finland these days? -MM

HERE

Rescue the kitten that was in bad condition( Emergency). God bless this poor kitten

Heartbreaking, but with a very happy ending.

We are now entering the twilight zone of reality

I’ve read some of the madness out of the West. It’s approaching critical mass. First the leadership goes mad, and then the population enters a period of bat-shit crazy times. yeah. It’s here. It’s the twilight zone – American style.

For some reason, I lost about 80% of this article. I now have to manually recover it. I'm not a happy camper.

This post is my tribute to the bat-shit insanity that America has become.

Meet Trophy Wife Barbie: She Smokes, Drinks, And Raises Hell

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Trophy Wife Barbie is divorced. She drinks wine, smokes weed, and owns a massive arsenal of pink guns. She vomits, bleeds, and goes to the bathroom. She breastfeeds in public, has transgender friends, and frequently gives the finger. Oh, and she has antlers sprouting from her head.

In other words, Trophy Wife Barbie is nothing like the real Barbie.

Instead, she’s the brainchild of Annelies Hofmeyr, a Toronto-based artist. Thanks to Hofmeyr, Trophy Wife Barbie lives her wild life publicly on Instagram.

“Dolls are non-threatening and allow us to project our feelings onto them. I use Trophy Wife Barbie to explore gender issues and the modern female identity while highlighting the limitations of labels. The antlers are a physical representation of a label imposed on her. The beauty of using Barbie iconography is that I’m able to circumvent censorship and talk about more challenging topics.”

Are Americans known for their high intelligence?

I’ve been debating them for years in multiple platforms online and my conclusion is that most of them have brain damage.

Now whenever i see someone make a stupid comment online I’ll automatically assume that they’re american, and I’ll be correct 70–80% of the time

You’ll know you’re debating an American when

  1. He ( almost always male) doesnt know anything about the topic, you can see that from his 1st comment.
  2. He’ll call you brainwashed, lol see he doesn’t know anything about the topic but you’re the brainwashed one LoL
  3. He brags about his freedom, especially Freedom of information LoL, see he doesn’t know anything about the topic, he doesn’t bother to google it one bit, then he brags about his freedom of information LoL 😂 even freedom of information doesn’t help when you have a severe brain damage
  4. He thinks that calling someone brainwashed or wumao or CCP shill or whatever ethnic and religious slurs is a valid argument, thia type is pretty common like 50% of them dont even bother to argue they just call names lol 😂
  5. Try Debating them about american domestic issues then everything becomes fake news, CNN is fake news , MSNBC is fake news, fox news is also fake news, NYT, WSJ, ABC, BBC, daily mail every single domestic and foreign media all of them are fake news, LoL then try debating them about China, russia, islam and international stuff then all of those fake news media are now 100% valid news LoL 😂
  6. Suddenly talking about their genitals, this is quite common for american I don’t know why LoL
  7. And lastly severe outdated view of the world, this is perfectly describes by this question, most Americans think that china is dependent on their market, china cant innovate because china is not a democracy, and many other stuff that might be true in early 2000.

Enjoy some BIG CATS

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Quick and Easy Chicken Enchiladas

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2022 12 30 20 42

Ingredients

Directions

  • Boil chicken until it falls apart, then shred.
  • Mix 1/2 can of sauce and a little cheese with chicken.
  • Put other 1/2 can on bottom of 11×9 baking dish.
  • Microwave tortillas until soft.
  • Roll chicken mixture into tortillas.
  • Put in pan semi-tightly.
  • Cover with remaining 2 cans sauce.
  • Cover top with remaining cheese and bake at 350 until cheese is fully melted (usually about 20-25 min).
  • Brown top slightly or to preference.

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2022 12 30 20 43

Enjoy some vintage 60s advertisements

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Cops Start ARRESTING Stranded Southwest Passengers At Airport!

China’s aircraft carrier Liaoning spotted edging close to Guam for first time amid US strategic threats

Published: Dec 29, 2022 09:46 PM

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d4204bb3 5891 4999 83c5 a91103cad499

The Liaoning aircraft carrier group of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Navy was recently spotted for the first time sailing close to Guam, a key US military node in the second island chain, during its ongoing exercises in the West Pacific, a move analysts said on Thursday showed that the Chinese carrier is ready to defend the country against potential US attacks launched from there, including military interference attempts over the Taiwan question.

Japan’s Ministry of Defense Joint Staff updated the Liaoning aircraft carrier group’s movements in a press release on Wednesday, saying that Japan’s Maritime Self-Defense Force spotted the PLA Navy’s aircraft carrier Liaoning, the Type 055 large destroyer Wuxi, the Type 052D destroyer Chengdu, the Type 054A frigate Zaozhuang and the Type 901 comprehensive replenishment ship Hulunhu continuing their voyage in the West Pacific since entering the region on December 16.

The Liaoning has hosted about 260 fighter jet and helicopter landing and takeoff operations from December 17 to Tuesday, according to the Japanese press release.

Citing a map attached to the release marked with the routes of the Liaoning aircraft carrier group from December 17 to Tuesday, Japan’s Kyodo News said on Wednesday that from December 23 to Sunday, the Chinese carrier group sailed south deeper into the West Pacific, arriving in waters west of Guam, before returning to waters east of the island of Taiwan and south of Japan from Monday to Tuesday.

This seems to be the first time the Liaoning has approached Guam, observers said.

The Chinese activity is likely a large-scale movement with an eye on the US military, Kyodo News quoted the Japanese Defense Ministry as saying.

Guam is home to US air force and bases that host strategic bombers and nuclear-powered submarines, and is considered an important node in the second island chain that is designed to contain China, observers said.

The US is building a group of military bases in Guam, Japan and Australia targeting China, with Guam being a core forward operating base featuring all types of military services, Chinese military expert Song Zhongping told the Global Times.

The Liaoning‘s drills in the West Pacific clearly have a tactical background, as it displayed its enhanced capabilities in seizing air superiority and control of sea far away from homeland, Song said.

China will never attack US military bases in Guam as long as the US military does not attack China or interfere in the Taiwan question, but having such capabilities is a deterrent against potential US provocations, analysts said.

In addition to the Liaoning, which demonstrated its capability in reaching Guam with its latest voyage, the PLA’s DF-26 intermediate range ballistic missile and H-6K bomber with air-launched standoff missiles can also reach the island, according to media reports.

On Sunday, when the Liaoning aircraft carrier group was near Guam, the PLA Eastern Theater Command organized “record-breaking” cross-service joint combat alert patrols and joint fire strike exercises in maritime and aerial areas around the island of Taiwan in a resolute response to the recent escalation in the US-Taiwan collusion, after US President Joe Biden signed the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023 on December 23, marking the first time the US government will finance weapons for the island of Taiwan.

Since the PLA has been focusing on training as a system, it cannot be ruled out that the Liaoning aircraft carrier group’s far sea exercise was interrelated with the drills around the island of Taiwan, another Chinese military expert told the Global Times on Thursday, requesting anonymity.

The waters south of Japan and west of Guam, both areas in which the Liaoning has held exercises, are important in cutting off military interference forces from the US and Japan, the expert said.

The Japanese Defense Ministry previously also reported the PLA Navy’s Type 055 large destroyer Lhasa, the Type 052D destroyer Kaifeng and the Type 903A replenishment ship Taihu sailed through the Osumi Strait into the West Pacific in mid-December, and has not updated their whereabouts as of press time. The Type 055 large destroyer Anshan, which was previously spotted in the Liaoning aircraft carrier group, is also missing in the latest Japanese report.

It is not known if these activities were also interrelated, observers said.

Chicken Quesadillas

“I have found that it works great to make the “filling” up a head of time. Just prep and put in the refrigerator until needed. This is one of our favorite meals. NOTE: The friend who gave me this recipe uses canned cooked chicken. I’m sure the other precooked chicken tenders they sell now would also work.”

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2022 12 30 20 38

Ingredients

Directions

  • Broil the chicken for about 5 minutes on each side, or until no longer pink inside. Cool and then shred or cube the chicken. (I have found the slicer in my salad shooter works great for this!).
  • Mix chicken, salsa and cheese in a bowl.
  • Place 1/10th of the mixture on half of the tortilla, fold over and press down slightly to “seal”. You can moisten the edges with water to help the edges seal but I usually don’t. I’ve found pressing firmly so that the tortilla sticks to the mixtures works fine.
  • Bake at 400°F for about 5 minutes or until tortillas start to brown.
  • Serve with additional salsa, sour cream, or guacamole for dipping.
  • Goes well with refried beans and/or Spanish Rice.

 

 

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2022 12 30 20 40

The United States is falling apart at the seams

In ten years all of this is going to be a distant memory, but for now, we are all sitting on pins and needles while the big-time crazy plays out.

You all have no idea what’s “next” for China.

After lifting up most of China out of poverty, the next two decades will be towards making the resulting middle class, a solid and long-duration class, and that means that the Chinese standard of living will surpass the upper middle class currently defined by the wealthy in the United States.

It’s gonna be brutal.

Of course, the USA is still playing the same old “games”. And we have endure this period of uncertainty…

The United States is “asking for it”

In response to the change in US nuclear weapons doctrine signed by POTUS on “No Fist Use, in a speech yesterday, Russian President Putin stated that the Russian Federation will change its defense doctrine and now will consider using nuclear weapons, even if only attacked by conventional weapons.

E.g. if we “detect that you are preparing to attack us, we will strike first with strategic atomic weapons.”

Navajo Ute Blanket

Sometimes, it is the simplest-looking objects that have the most astounding stories—and prices to match. This Navajo Ute blanket is finely woven with bands of white, black, and blue. Many people would walk right by it. But these so-called “chief blankets” can raise high prices.

The owner of the blanket seen on Antiques Roadshow had inherited it from his grandmother. As a young child, it was simply put on his bed and occasionally thrown over him on chilly nights. The experts on the Roadshow immediately recognized it for what it was. As an amazing example of Navajo weaving, it was estimated to be worth at least $350,000. The owner was left in tears because his grandparents had merely been poor farmers.

Another example of a blanket like this, which had once been used by a cat to give birth on, sold for $1.5 million. The owner of that blanket had been struggling to get by on $200 a month. So maybe check your attic for one of these.

1. The President of Peru, Pedro Castillo, has been arrested and is being held in the police station located on Avenida España in the city of Lima. This is following a vote by the majority right-wing congress to oust him in a legislative coup. Vice President Dina Boluarte is sworn in as President of Peru.

2. Argentina’s corrupt, heavily politicized judicial system absurdly sentenced left-wing former President and current VP Cristina Fernández de Kirchner to 6 years in prison on ridiculous “corruption” charges

2 coups in Latin America in 2 days:  Argentina’s Kirchner was banned from office on bogus charges by corrupt judges conspiring with right-wing media oligarchs Peru’s Castillo was overthrown by the right-wing-controlled congress Plan Condor 2.0 The capitalist class never sleeps

Apologists will make excuses for these coups. They always do

Sure, not every coup is as simple as a blatant Pinochet-style military coup

But these are a new kind of coups, using hybrid war, lawfare, 4th Generation Warfare

Don't let disingenuous appeals to "nuance" distract you

— Ben Norton (@BenjaminNorton) December 8, 2022

Operation Condor is not a conspiracy theory.

HERE

Operation Condor is (was … and is now re-implemented by the looks of things) a criminal conspiracy to forcibly disappear people across international borders.  Operation Condor coordinated repression among the countries of the Southern Cone.  There were court hearings in Rome and in Buenos Aires.  Eventually one of these ruled that Operation Condor was a criminal conspiracy and the Operation’s scope was proven in its full magnitude.

Only the methods by which to disappear people have changed. Now we create new leaders out of thin air and remove others via lawfare.  Why now? you may ask.  Simple, they could not get to Lula so they chose an area destabilization.

Let’s first take a look at the comments from other Latin American leaders. Leaders that resist a coup every day. Thanks to Ben Norton and Ollie Vargas for pulling this together so quickly.

Bolivia's leftist President Arce: "From the beginning the Peruvian right wing tried to overthrow a government that was democratically elected by the people, by the humble classes that sought more inclusion and social justice" "We send all our solidarity", and The constant harassment of anti-democratic elites against progressive, popular and legitimately constituted governments must be condemned by all. We advocate that democracy, peace and respect for Human Rights prevail for the benefit of the Peruvian people.


Bolivia's ex President Evo stresses: "The political crisis" in Peru "was provoked by the endless conspiring of the Fujimori-supporting right and right-wing media outlets against an elected government whose 'unpardonable crime' was representing the poorest"

Mexico's President AMLO says of Peru: It is "unfortunate that because of the interests of economic and political elites, since the beginning of the legitimate presidency of Pedro Castillo, there was an environment of confrontation & hostility against him"

Honduras' ex President Manuel Zelaya (who was himself overthrown in a US-backed right-wing military coup in 2009) says: "We energetically condemn the coup d'etat in Peru violating the sovereign will of the people, represented by President Pedro Castillo"

Lucho Arce, Bolivia:  The constant harassment of anti-democratic elites against progressive, popular and legitimately constituted governments must be condemned by all. We advocate that democracy, peace and respect for Human Rights prevail for the benefit of the Peruvian people.

Dilma Rousseff, previous leader of Brazil on Cristina Kirchner: The sentence, ultimately, is unfair and falls on Cristina Kirchner, who is one of the most important leaders in Latin America. Undoubtedly, it is a demand from the extreme right in Argentina, just as the condemnation of President Lula had a similar meaning in Brazil. She expressed solidarity with Kitchner as well as with all progressive leaders, militants and activists persecuted and unjustly condemned in recent history on our continent.

Lula da Silva:  "My solidarity with Argentina's VP Cristina Kirchner. I saw your statement that you are a victim of lawfare. Here in Brazil we know how much this practice can damage democracy. I support an impartial, independent justice system for all and for the people of Argentina."

It is fair to say that each of these people understands what has happened, understands how it happened, and knows with certainty that they are but a hair’s width away from similar action.

This is then the state of the fight in Latin America.

Peru is in chaos as the people actually voted for Pedro Castillo. As I said in my writing on Building Conflict , chaos is an acceptable outcome for the hegemon. If they cannot rule, chaos works for them while they attempt to snatch some victory out of chaos.

I posted some of the outlandish press on Brazil in the commentary. Take a look at the outcome of that press. It appears in Latin America, that we are now fighting the US Right and the crazy QAnon as well.

So much disinformation is spamming through US social media apps on Brazil that it's creating QAnon-like mass hysteria in Bolsonaro's most fanatical followers. I'm calling it #BRAnon. Here, a group of "patriots" reacts to a fake story on the arrest of a Supreme Court Justice. + pic.twitter.com/h1lZQLOT8Z

— BrianMier (@BrianMteleSUR) November 9, 2022

This is then the state of the fight in Latin America.

Every good leader is threatened with a coup on a daily basis and we fight the American right, convinced of their own manifest destiny, unable to do anything in their own country, and now they join the hegemon to destabilize Latin America. They have failed the political fight in their own countries, and now they want to carry it to the Latin American countries to continue the tenets of the Monroe Doctrine and to keep pillaging the Latin Americas.

The Latin American left brings change 'from below' through mass participation of majorities urban & rural. The pro-US right force change 'from above' through backroom deals among a select few in the capital city.

— Ollie Vargas 🧉 (@OVargas52) December 7, 2022

 

This is then the state of the fight in Latin America.

The Peruvian right-wing majority congress, who have just ousted Pedro Castillo, have an 85% disapproval rating. One of the worst in the region.

The decision of the Peruvian Congress to dismiss Pedro Castillo has been rejected by leaders and governments in Mexico, Bolivia, Colombia and Chile.

https://www.telesurenglish.net/news/Perus-Crisis-Prompts-Reaction-From-Latin-American-Leaders-20221207-0021.html

Chile is a surprise. Of course, reactions are still pouring in and we will hear from Cuba, Caricom, and most everyone else in our ‘zone’.

Thing is, this is a little weird. Pedro Castillo was not highly regarded in the rest of the Latin American pink tide. He was known to be so centrist that he could not truly unite his cabinet. This is a lesson – internal stability must be there, otherwise the rot creeps in. And this is so much more relevant for Latin America. They have been harassed, couped, raped and plundered probably more than African countries. This is then why I say that they could not get to Lula da Silva, and decided that chaos in the region is called for.

Bolivia’s former President Evo warns of a “new assault by imperialism” against the Latin American left: “The right-wing enemies of the people don’t accept anti-imperialist governments”. “We must remain united and never surrender”.

Diego Rivera Painting

Diego Rivera was one of the most important Mexican painters of the 20th century. His large murals sparked a new style of artwork. His third wife, Frida Kahlo, may be better known today, but when an article was written about her in 1933, it was headlined “Wife of master mural painter gleefully dabbles in art.” Today their reputations may have reversed, but Rivera’s works are still highly sought after.

One of his early paintings was thought lost for decades. It was only when a man brought it into the Antiques Roadshow that it was recognized and brought back into public awareness. Called “El Albañil,” or “The Laborer,” it was estimated to be worth around $800,000 to $1 million. Not bad for a piece of art that was just hanging up behind a door in a family home.

It’s all smoke and mirrors for the public to give us the impression that they care. They don’t, never have and never will. The corruption is so entrenched, we have no real idea how deep and connected these scumbags are.

What an honorable fighter, accepts defeat, acknowledges the winner asking the audience to cheer even more for the winner! Love that!

Walt Whitman Letter

Walt Whitman was among the most influential poets that America has ever produced. His works were celebrated and vilified in his own time, but his stature has grown. Today, he is now recognized as part of the American literary canon.

What was brought into the Antiques Roadshow was not a rare copy of his literary works but something more personal. During the Civil War, Whitman helped wounded soldiers by taking dictation so that they could send letters back to their families. He apparently wrote many such letters, but few have survived, and even fewer where Whitman signed his name on them.

The letter was brought into the Roadshow not for its own merits but because it was part of a family’s store of Civil War-era items. However, when the experts saw it, they recognized how rare it was. The price put on it was $8,000-$12,000. After later speaking to a specialist on Whitman, the price was revised to maybe as much as $20,000.

Meet Barcelona’s ‘Amazon Tax’

Enough with the subsidies. Tax dominant delivery platforms instead.

For local communities, the opening of an Amazon warehouse causes a bunch of problems, including lower wages, fewer jobs, and more local businesses closing. But the issues local residents tend to be the loudest and most upset about, particularly in the short term, are increases in traffic, noise, and pollution that necessarily come with such facilities, especially for those who live closest to it.

Indeed, the spike in e-commerce, not just from Amazon, but across the board — and of course exacerbated by the pandemic — has driven up traffic congestion and pollution, not just in the U.S. but across the world. According to the World Economic Forum, in order to meet e-commerce demands, “the number of delivery vehicles in the top 100 cities globally will increase by 36% until 2030. Consequently, emissions from delivery traffic will increase by 32% and congestion will rise by over 21%, equalling an additional 11 minutes of commute time for each passenger every day.”

But traffic isn’t the only concern. The pace Amazon demands of its drivers makes them a danger to both themselves and others: Nearly one in five Amazon drivers was injured on the job last year, and they causes loads of accidents (for which Amazon itself can often avoid legal liability).

Finally, I’m sure I’m not the only one who has been more than a little annoyed about having to navigate around a seemingly endless supply of Amazon vans double-parked in my neighborhood.

All in all, it’s bad news, even factoring in the consumer convenience of ordering something and having it arrive at your door the next day.

I’ve written quite a bit here about why its foolhardy for states and localities to subsidize the warehousing and logistics networks of big retailers, Amazon most prominently among them. But what about actually making them pay for some of these harms?

For a look at how to do that, we can look across the Atlantic to Spain, where one city is intending to take a delivery platform tax out for a spin.

Barcelona’s city council this week took the initial step toward implementing a tax next year on dominant delivery platforms. These are the large corporations, mostly in the e-commerce space, that deliver packages right to a consumer’s door. It has been dubbed the “Amazon tax” locally.

My Spanish knowledge is limited to what a few years of Duolingo can teach, so I may be mangling some details here (though at least some of the press coverage was in English), but it seems the tax will be applied to dominant delivery corporations above a certain revenue threshold, with exemptions for those that drop packages off at central locations where consumers can come pick them up, as well as those that deliver to other businesses. The goal is to levy a fee on the big corporations doing home delivery.

The city expects to raise 2.6 million euros, and says this would be the first such fee introduced at the local level in Europe.

Barcelona’s administration has given two rationales for the policy. First, it’s meant cut down on both damage to public spaces and emissions. “This planet cannot allow for a 300 gram package to be transported to your home in a vehicle that weighs more than a ton,” said city councillor Jordi Martí.

But second is to incentivize consumers to shop at local stores, since presumably the fee is going to, at least in part, be passed on to them in the form of higher prices. “We want local traders to have equal fiscal conditions compared to the major e-commerce platforms, who have a very high market share,” said Deputy Mayor Jaume Collboni, who added that the city wants consumers to “avoid the dominance of some platforms” and “favor local trade.” (Again, apologies for any mangled translations.)

There have been some nods at doing something similar in the U.S. — most prominently in New York City, where a $3 fee would have been applied on all packages and was thus a non-starter, and in San Francisco, where a ballot referendum to implement a delivery platform tax was scrapped this year due to drafting errors that would have applied the tax to many more businesses than intended — but as far as I know, no jurisdiction has actually gone ahead and done it. Seattle also had a tax that was derogatorily dubbed the “Amazon tax,” but that was levied per employee, and referred to that city’s dominant employer.

But a delivery platform tax is a good idea!

Here in the U.S., Amazon alone has received more than $5 billion in state and local subsidies, most of which has gone toward its warehousing and logistics network. And other big retailers and food corporations have also gotten into the game, having the state and the public build out their necessary infrastructure, and therefore receiving a leg up over local businesses that aren’t getting the same level of public support.

That should obviously be cut off, and there’s legislation out there for state leaders who want to deny subsidies to e-commerce corporations generally.

Meanwhile, at the local level, leaders can absolutely look for ways to make giant corporations pay for some of the harms they’re causing, and boost their own local businesses at the same time by levying a fee on the corporations that want to clog streets and belch fumes. Wins all around.

Lincoln Assassination Eyewitness Letter

There are few moments in American history as famous as the assassination of President Lincoln. Everyone knows how John Wilkes Booth entered the box in Ford’s Theatre, where Lincoln and his wife were watching a performance of Our American Cousin. During a moment when the audience was laughing at a joke, he pulled out a pistol and shot the president. Wilkes then leaped from the box, landed awkwardly on stage, held up a dagger, and proclaimed, “Sic semper tyrannis!”—”Thus ever for tyrants!”

That’s the accepted version of events, but to people in the theatre at the time, it was a moment of confusion. That is why the letter brought into the Antiques Roadshow by one lady was so important. It is a contemporary eyewitness account of the assassination by her grandfather, who was there. He had gone to the theatre after hearing General Grant would be present. Instead, he saw one of the most momentous events of the 19th century.

According to the account given, Booth also announced from the stage, “I have done it!” and “The South’s avenged!” The letter was valued at $10,000-$15,000.

Lemon Chicken

“This is like the lemon chicken you get from your Chinese take-out place. The egg, cornstarch, and baking powder coating is extra light and crispy. No msg or flour involved! And remember, Zaar calculates fat and calories from the ingredient list…you won’t consume all the oil listed in the recipe! Note: Marinating time is included in prep time.”

2022 12 08 11 55
2022 12 08 11 55

Ingredients

Directions

  • Combine first 3 ingredients in a large zip-lock bag. Add chicken, and seal bag. Marinate for 15 minutes in the refrigerator.
  • Combine eggs, 1/4 cup cornstarch, and baking powder in a large bowl; stir well. Dip chicken into batter, coating well.
  • Pour 2 cups oil into a large heavy skillet. Fry chicken in hot oil over medium-high heat until golden, turning occasionally. Drain on paper towels. Cut chicken into 1 1/2 inch X 1 inch pieces. Arrange on a serving platter.
  • Combine chicken broth and next 4 ingredients; set aside. Place 2 tbsp oil in a large non-stick skillet; place over medium-high heat until hot. Add lemon slices, and stir fry 30 seconds. Add broth mixture, and stir fry 3 additional minutes or until sauce is thickened and clear. Pour over chicken. Serve immediately.

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2022 12 08 11 56

Jeff J. Brown on Press TV: Pentagon chief says China has both will and power to reshape US-dominated order-but now we have the B21 Raider bomber. Seriously?

2022 12 09 06 36
2022 12 09 06 36

HERE

Pentagon Chief Lloyd Austin on China: pivotal point in 21st century | Fortune

After rolling out new stealth bomber, Pentagon chief warns of pivotal point: ‘We’re aligning our budget as never before to the China challenge’. China is the only country with the will and power to “reshape its region and the international order to suit its authoritarian preferences,” Lloyd Austin said
Zero-sum mentality and single-way thinking is scary: whoever (white/black/yellow/brown) in the position of power in those lands control of the crusaders, their behaviour tend to be the same, if this is not culture/DNA? What is? 

The me-only, self-centered, dictatorial, and barbaric doomsday threats of the Bible culture must go, before the west can learn to coexist with the rest of the world and enter the civilised stage of human civilisation. 

Christianity is the most divisive forces in this world. They are used by the crusaders to destroy culture, and to divide a population. South Sudan, East Timor seperatists moment are just some examples. These brainless believer are blinded by the brutality of their God in the old testament, and their GOD disrespect for women and his own mother in the New testament. 

As a result, these brainwashed people failed to respect their parents dislike of Christianity and make prayer on dinner table while eating food prepared by their parents. 

HERE

Can the US Constitution be saved and updated?

Patrice Greanville – Chat @ Spike

As usual, Eric A. brings up many important questions to the table relating to the great tasks facing humanity these days, a humanity unfortunately still mired in the ugly muck of Western colonialist momentum, whose main global anchor remains the Anglo-American empire.

I say “momentum” because ideologies—including “manifest destiny”, “national exceptionalism” and “raw racism”—can persist for a long and highly dangerous time, and lose their grip on the shaping of history only when the underlying material forces that gave them currency at one point are no longer capable of supporting the visible edifice. This is of course, as you all know, an old Marxian insight.

The US as the globe’s citadel of capitalism is clearly facing its terminal decline. Much of this mess is—curiously some would say, but logical when closely examined—self-inflicted. America’s industrial infrastructure is shot, in critical sectors weak or nonexistent, and generally ridiculously overextended. The once resplendent garments are now a beggar’s attire, rags covered in pitiful patches.

Hard to believe, many would say, but we know why this happened. The ruling elites myopically offshored and destroyed the onetime awesome American industrial base through short-term thinking, “boardroom hyper-individualism”, and the unchecked pursuit of profit—all natural and inherent offshoots of the capitalist dynamic.

Since this process took years if not decades, it is necessary to ask, how did these people get away with this slo-mo industrial suicide without a popular backlash? After all, as city after city saw its core gutted, with millions deprived of a decent livelihood, this is a question that deserves a proper answer, but suffice it to say here that the ruling oligarchy used its tested mechanisms of social control via instigated social divisions, absence and denial of genuine representative leadership, and pervasive, unrelenting manipulation via a globalised media that shamelessly served only massive disinformation.

In this context, it’s useful to recall that the US ruling elites commenced this new phase of their old class war right after the end of WW2, when they launched their McCarthyite persecution of communists and populists across all possible spheres of political importance. This “purged” the nation of true agents of change while depriving the working class of all forms of effective self-defense organizations, starting with combative labor unions.

Quite ironically, the US elites very triumph in controlling the population via massive propaganda and clever forms of repression ended up insulating them from reality. This “soft” US-style totalitarianism built on lies and corruption eventually removed all the necessary and healthy social limits to their actions, at home and abroad. As a class, they got no penalties for their mistakes or even high crimes. Thus, like the person who no longer feels his feet due to neuropathy and thereby loses a limb due to an otherwise avoidable injury, the US ruling class grew accustomed—especially since the end of the USSR in 1991—to acting in what the French might call “capitalism a outrance”, a capitalism without limits, savage and irresponsible, uncooperative and fragmented at its core, and above all short-term thinking, consummately hypocritical, and therefore unwise. This is the beast that eventually spawned this latest brand of imperialism, “Woke imperialism”, the pathetic culmination of the Western liberals’ war on real class struggle. The hegemony’s rulers have always wanted to “freeze history”, for capitalism always reaches a point where it can advance no further, and is finally overwhelmed by its own innumerable ills, product of its incurable contradictions, of which the first and foremost remains the crisis of overproduction.

Given the above, it’s no surprise that when we look about, things look the same, albeit in a worsened, coarser iteration. The first major crisis of overproduction (brought about by “Fordism”) detonated the Great Depression, a period the US ruling class survived due to FDR’s coping socialistic measures and eventually a world war. The current great crisis—which engulfs the entire “West”—is, as we know so well, caused by ceaseless technological innovations aggravated by the computer revolution and the shenanigans of a reckless financial class for whom the well-being of society is at best a minor consideration.

Under such conditions, the US economy remains almost completely dependent on its “Pentagon sector”, a form of military Keynesianism evermore aggravated by unchecked, unquenchable greed, a lethal God that requires constant blood offerings, the latest being, of course, the Ukraine adventure.

Domestically, on the financial side, the capitalist deficits and gross imbalances in income distribution have been papered over by the extension of near universal retail credit, created in the postwar as a great “invention” to neutralise the dangerous effects of overproduction. The problem here is that consumer credit depends for its stability on stable jobs which in turn require a stable economy, but this economy cannot exist because by its very nature is unstable. So we are dealing here with the old house of cards dilemma. Incidentally, bourgeois economists like to insist that successive waves of invention create more job opportunities to compensate for job losses stemming from the efficiency of new technologies. This was their answer to “Luddite” critics, for example, but the facts speak otherwise. Today the world witnesses throughout the West a growing glut of “unneeded workers”, while the ruling class toys at its highest levels (i.e., WEF), with options such as massive “degrowth” and “depopulation”. A whole industry of lies and excuses (and probably biological tools) is also being created to justify such eventual measures.

Externally, an elaborate financial edifice grounded in the petrodollar is now crumbling—faster than anyone expected, especially among the the empire’s select counsellors—precisely due to the ineptitude and blind arrogance of the imperial mandarins. It’s a house of cards, a magic trick kept alive only by the implicit blackmail of a supposedly almighty military, but this last trick in the wizard’s bag is now also being exposed as a fraud by the war in Ukraine, where the West and and the Russian people are locked in an existential struggle.

Despite some early mistakes and miscalculations, in the pursuit of their intervention in Ukraine, the Russians are showing the rest of humanity (to their delight), that the arrogant, oppressive West—except for its nuclear submarine force—is, as Mao said, a paper tiger. Russia is showing the world what a real military superpower is capable of, one, to put it in technical terms, that possesses real “strategic depth”, something the West and its NATO mafia, can only dream of. Andrei Martyanov, a leading military expert, has repeatedly mentioned this sobering fact in his efforts to cool down the reckless hubris of Washington elites in their pursuit of imperialist dominance.

On Dec 5, 2022, the editor of Moon of Alabama published a piece confirming (again) this very point, the incapability of the West’s industrial base to produce and deliver on short order the massive level of ammunitions needed in a modern war between peer powers:

The Ukrainian war machine is running on empty because the ‘west’ can no longer provide weapons and ammunition in meaningful quantities. The chance to change that in any reasonable time frame is low:

“High-end conflict consumes a lot of munitions and a lot of weaponry,” Mike McCord, the Pentagon’s top budget official, said in an interview. “We are also looking at the supply chain limitations. We haven’t got this figured out just yet.”

Top Pentagon and industry officials maintain that efforts are finally ramping up to replace the weapons that the United States and its allies have shipped to Ukraine — depleting stockpiles that are deemed crucial to deterring China or other potential adversaries for years to come.

She cited recent deals for tens of thousands of 155mm artillery rounds that the Ukrainians are using up almost as soon as they arrive. By the spring, “we will be able to do 20,000 rounds a month,” she said.

But it will take time to manufacture enough of them, she said, adding that the U.S. will get that rate up to 40,000 rounds a month in the spring of 2025.

20,000 rounds is what the Russian army uses in Ukraine on a quiet day. 40,000 rounds per day may be the average consumption, 60,000 rounds per day are fired when things get hot. It also produces enough to replace those rounds.

(Ukraine – Crimea Bridge Repaired, No Ammunition, Drone Attacks In Russia—> https://www.moonofalabama.org/2022/12/ukraine-crimea-bridge-repaired-no-ammunition-drone-attacks-in-russia-.html
(The bold italics are mine.)

That after so much huffing and puffing and so many expectations of a quick Russian collapse we have come to this realisation must be humiliating in some quarters in Washington. And this is perhaps the greatest irony in the current situation: the political hubris that has long dominated the thinking of London/Washington elites made their hegemonic impulse irresistible. So they picked what looks now like the empire’s “last war of choice”. Never mind this is still formal a “proxy war”. They forgot that this is not 1945 but 2022, and the world has changed, and, above all, they forgot that ganging up on Russia, that underestimating her, is an unpardonable error.

As things stand today, and no matter what the Western media say, there is no way the West can “win” the Ukraine war, let alone consign Russia to the status of a vassal nation. In fact, for a variety of quite sensible reasons, and because of the high level of toxic chauvinism that still permeates the American mind, Moscow is now probably engaged in NOT giving Washington too bad of a beating. Hence the slow pace of the military campaign, the underplaying of their own victories, and the gradual way in which they are introducing a new reality on Eastern Europe and the world at large. It’s more like a “slow gradual descent into the ground” instead of a brutal crash. The former spares the losing contender some of the humiliation.

Going now back to Eric A.’s questions.
I think it will be hard to make faster progress in the West, especially America, until we devise ways of neutralizing and defeating Washington’s massive propaganda power. Many things we wish to accomplish require us to “walk with both legs at once” as Mao once said, for there are many circumstances when one item’s presence determines the survival of another, both reinforcing each other.

As well, as long as the culture is bathed in narcissism, many things will escape proper examination.

In the war or clash of ideas, liberalism, for example, and one of its offshoots economic liberalism (aka libertarianism) has clearly run its course, historically speaking, that is. Liberalism was and remains an intrinsic part and pillar of the capitalist matrix; it gives rise, by normal evolution, to forms of extreme antisocial individualism. And while I appreciate that some libertarians clearly and bravely oppose the US criminal/imperialist foreign policy, I doubt they have seriously pondered the contradictions implicit in their favorite social and economic model.

For example, to this day, I have never found a libertarian that can accept how competition literally eats itself in a regime of perfect market freedom, yielding eventually enormous monopolies. Nor, how these monopolies eventually corrupt everything in sight, from the political class to all other major cultural institutions, including the press, the arts, academia, and so on. The proof is irrefutable and it exists in abundance in the history of the West, especially its Nirvana, that is, The United States. Finally, no libertarian that I know of has ever solved the problem of capitalist overproduction.

The bottom line is that, as the Ukrainian War has demonstrated, the stranglehold of hybrid power is choking history and may spell our demise as a species, along with much of the rest of life on this planet.

I think it is our duty to debate and exchange ideas on how to weaken and break this ideological wall. Difficult? By all means. Impossible? Not by a long shot.

Confessions of a Woman in an Arraigned Marriage

Where are you from and is it common in your culture?

I’m from Kuwait and yes its really common. Its even rare to find someone not in one.

Would you have rather chosen a husband yourself?

Well I don’t because I never dated but I think I got really lucky with my husband.

And I think it have saved me a lot of time and effort.

Did you have the choice to say “No dad, not this one, find someone else”?

Well I did the same thing with another guy before.

What made you decide to reject that man before your husband? How did your father react?

The three 3 times we met he just kept saying nice things about me. It was a marriage interview and he said nothing about marriage or our responsibility or children or anything important.

My husband understands the “ways” to get married.

Did you ever wanted to have a boyfriend or date someone you like?

Having a boyfriend? No never, I find it disgusting and gross. How could I sleep with a man who doesn’t hold an responsibility towards me and I don’t have responsibility towards him and I find it a risky thing.

How did the process work? Did you know your husband before you were arranged to marry?

Ofcourse, I had to know everything that happened.

He was the son of my father boss and I saw him couple times at events but never talked to him.

But afte my father came to me to tell me that I have marriage proposal and then I met him for coffee couple of time before we got engaged.

Was there any money exchange? Or any sort of exchange as sign of arrangement?

Yes there were a money exchange. The man had to pay the woman family a (jeza) and mine was 80k dollars .

A business contract? No but I had to sign a marriage certificate ( it means that I the woman approve of that man to be my husband)

How long have you been married?

4 years

Are you happy? Getting a good life?

Yes I am really happy and life have been treating me good.

Do you love him?

Do you love him?

What are the positive and negative aspects of your situation?

Positives: it was straight forward and it was good communication.

Negatives: that it felt like a job and he was at first like a business partner ( before we got engaged) and it felt like people was expecting something out of it.

Do you have a proper education or have you just been raised to be a wife?

Well a lot of girls are raised as future wives and to have education at the same time . So I was expected to study a lot and be a good caretaker.

But yes I have a master degree in math.

What are your career goals?

I stopped working after I got married.

But my life goal is to raise my son as best as possible and treat my husband with the most respect and make him feel like a king.

Will you push your children to be in arranged marriages?

Yes but I won’t be against him if come and tell me that he loves someone and wants to marry them.

What if ur daughter doesn’t want an arranged marriage

And that my friend a problem for future me

Would you want the same for your daughter, knowing the risk of choosing someone she would not be happy with?

I knew the risks when I first got on the “market” but I think it’s safer choice then the “western way”.

And yes her opinion matters.

To answer your question yes I want her to do the same

What do you think is unsafe about the Western way?

Like if my husband cheated on me I have to take half his money but in the west with dating he can cheat and nothing bad would happen to him. We have responsibility give by god to be a team.

And also what if i became pregnant with a man I don’t know who would take care of the baby. Those are my reasons.

Do you feel that you are judge by western people for being in such an arrangement. If so do you think there is any validity to their judgment?

Yes I do but i understand why. They want maximum Freedom to their life even if its lead to bad or good thing and what I did goes against what they believe. and they see me take part of it as the same as promoting it. But its human nature and I do the same. Like with drinking, you think drinking is working and not effecting you but it ruined alot of lifes. So I judge you for drinking because I see you promoting it.

I hope I explain it ( sorry my English is not good).

What will you do if your husband turns out to be physically abusive, does your father resolve that or it’s up to you? Are you allowed to file for divorce?

No it’s my father responsibility and mine to solve this maybe I can forgive him or I can go to the police or divorce him.

And yes physically abuse is one of the reasons for a divorce.

Is he allowed to have other wives?

Yes he is allowed to have more wives but we had an agreement that if he brings another woman I’m out.

When you and your husband have intercourse is it for enjoyment and pleasure, reproduction purposes, because your husband wants it, or all of the above?

It’s for lust on both sides. But I think in Christianity you do it for reproductive reasons only ( correct me if I’m wrong).

Bohdisattva Statue

Bronze statues can command high prices, but typically, they have to be in mint condition if they are to be truly valuable. When a slightly damaged bronze statue of a bodhisattva turned up on the Antiques Roadshow, it might not have been immediately obvious that it was worth much at all. The experts in Asian art, however, got very excited—even though it had lost one arm.

The owner of the piece had been shopping in an estate sale when she spotted it. Several antique dealers had already snapped up many of the best objects, but this statue had been ignored. The owner was able to buy it for around $100. The experts agreed she had got a bargain. They dated it to the early 15th century and suggested a retail estimate of $100,000-$150,000. It turned out they were wrong… on both counts.

When the statue was later auctioned, it was described as coming from the earlier Tang Dynasty. It eventually sold for $2 million at Sotheby’s.

Jesus. This is amazing.

China’s new 10 measures against COVID-19 are adherence to original intention, logic

By Global Times editorial (Global Times) 08:45, December 08, 2022
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After the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China Central Committee held a meeting on Tuesday to set the tone for the economic work for 2023 and proposed to better coordinate COVID-19 epidemic prevention and control with economic and social development, the Joint Prevention and Control Mechanism of the State Council announced on Wednesday 10 prevention and control measures to further optimize COVID-19 response. This was widely recognized by the public. These new measures include lifting COVID testing and health code requirements for domestic cross-regional travelers and scrapping negative nucleic acid results and health code requirements for entering public places except for designated locations such as nursing homes, medical institutions and schools. They also clarify that asymptomatic carriers and mild COVID-19 patients are allowed to quarantine at home. Once again, China’s epidemic prevention and control work has again taken an important step toward precision and science.

We can say that we have come through the most difficult times. Nearly three years of an exceptionally difficult “national fight against the epidemic,” countless people have made sacrifices, endured hardships and paid an effort to win this battle. From the Alpha to Omicron variant, in these three years, we were forced to fight the “war to protect Wuhan” at one point. But step by step, today we can take the strategic initiative against the virus. We have ushered in a time for adjustment where the virus becomes weaker, but we grow stronger.

Looking back when the virus was at the most aggressive stage, China built a strong defense line against the virus again and again, becoming the country with the lowest number of COVID-19 cases and deaths among the world’s major powers. A report from the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows that life expectancy at birth for the total US population was 78.8 years in 2019. It reduced to 77 years in 2020 and further to 76.1 years in 2021. In contrast, despite the large gap between China’s average level of medical resources and technology compared to developed countries, we have achieved a steady increase in average life expectancy, reaching 77.93 years in 2020 and increasing to 78.2 years in 2021. In the past two days, a large number of netizens have left messages to thank the country from the heart for three years of protection.

From a global perspective, China’s contribution to the world during the epidemic is also unparalleled. In 2020, China became the world’s first major economy to achieve positive economic growth. In 2021, China’s economy exceeded 110 trillion yuan ($17.3 trillion), with an average growth rate of 5.1 percent over the previous two years. In 2022, the Chinese economy has withstood pressure and is progressing stably. As China has effectively controlled the spread of the epidemic, the country’s manufacturing industry has not been greatly affected. Made-in-China products continue to dominate globally, and China’s strong supply capacity has significantly stabilized the fragile global supply chain. Meanwhile, China has also selflessly provided anti-epidemic supplies, including vaccines, to a vast number of developing countries, which has strongly supported the global joint efforts to fight against the epidemic. The international community is watching all of this.

China is a large country with a population of over 1.4 billion. Such a population base determines that the course of this enormous ship must be very stable, and a slight deviation may cause irreparable and heavy losses.

In the past three years, China has issued nine versions of epidemic prevention and control plans and diagnosis and treatment plans. Each revision reflects the country’s pragmatic attitude of seeking truth from facts and being proactive and prudent. It keeps progressing by taking small steps, with the starting point of being “people-centered.” China’s prevention and control policy has constantly been adjusted in the past three years, but its logic and original intention have never changed.

Our ability and confidence to fight the epidemic have also been strengthened during the process. Ability is the foundation of confidence, and confidence is the source which inspires ability. The virulence of the Omicron variant is greatly weakened. We have effective technologies and drugs for diagnosis and treatment, and our capablities, such as medical treatment, pathogen detection and epidemiological investigation, continue to improve. The complete vaccination rate of the whole population exceeds 90 percent. All these give us the confidence to face the virus directly and lay a solid foundation for further optimizing the epidemic prevention and control measures.

For the next step, we still need to make persistent efforts on how to implement the new 10 measures, concentrate resources to protect vulnerable groups in society, and obtain the optimal solution for coordinating epidemic prevention and control and economic development, so that this huge society can continue to move forward adapting to the new situation.

The rainbow comes after the storm. We have all expected a long time for this day to come out of the haze of the epidemic. To be more precise, every step we have taken in the past three years, no matter how difficult it is, is a step closer to this day or a preparation for this day. They are all meaningful.

In my opinion this is Jets finest movie! Some of the best fight scenes ever filmed and a truly heartbreaking ending! A truly beautiful film.

BBQ Marmalade Chicken

“This is a simple dish to make, very tasty. It can be made in a crock pot or the oven. This is delicious served with steamed broccoli and mashed sweet potatoes.”

2022 12 08 11 58
2022 12 08 11 58

Ingredients

Directions

  • In a medium-size microwave-safe bowl, stir marmalade with soy sauce. Microwave, uncovered, on high until softened, 1 minute.
  • OR melt in a saucepan, stirring often.
  • Stir in barbecue sauce.
  • Place chicken in crock pot. Pour in sauce. Stir to coat.
  • Cover and cook on high setting 4 hours or low 6 hours.
  • To bake, preheat oven to 350F (180C). Place chicken in a large, ovenproof casserole dish that will hold at least 16 cups (4 L). Pour sauce over chicken. Stir to evenly coat. Set on a baking sheet to catch any drips if it bubbles over.
  • Bake, covered, in centre of preheated oven until chicken feels springy when pressed and sauce is bubbly, about 1 3/4 hours.
  • To thicken sauce, remove cooked chicken to a large serving bowl.
  • In a small bowl, stir cornstarch with water until dissolved.
  • Carefully ladle liquid from slow cooker or casserole into a medium-size saucepan.
  • Set over high heat. Bring to a boil. Stir in cornstarch mixture.
  • Reduce heat to medium. Stir until sauce thickens, 2 minutes. Pour over chicken.
  • Note: I prefer orange marmalade, ginger marmalade can be substituted. Recipe yields approximately 3 cups of sauce.

2022 12 08 11 59
2022 12 08 11 59

Yes crimes against humanity.

I was giving a lecture to around 50 international high school students in my college at Oxford University.

I got drunk before the lecture. I just wanted the paycheck.

The lecture was called ‘Shakespeare 101’ or ‘An Introduction to Shakespeare’ or something equally uninspiring.

I arrived in the hall. Saw a bunch of faces beaming up at me. I put my feet up on a desk and began reading from my notes in a dull monotone. Completely shameless.

The students tolerated about 10 minutes of this crap before one Chinese girl put her hand up and said this:

“Excuse me, Teacher? I have a question. Can you make it less boring?”

Wow.

She was right. It was boring as hell.

Teaching is not about collecting a paycheck.

The onus is NOT on the students to make it interesting.

Good teaching is not just rattling off a bunch of facts while the students scribble down notes.

“You’re right,” I said. “This is boring. I’m so sorry. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ve got a script here for Hamlet. We’re all going to act this out line by line.”

I handed out a bunch of sheets and got the whole class up and acting. Actually acting. Saying the words with feeling.

The class livened up. The shy ones came out of their shells. We all laughed. We all became super enthusiastic. They asked me endless questions and I asked them questions back and we all had a great time.

Then at the end of the class, about 20 of them stayed behind for a photo and they all queued up to swap phone numbers with me.

So thank you to that girl who asked me to make my lesson less boring.

I then went on to make my living from teaching for the next couple of years and was never again told that my lessons were boring. In fact, my students all raved about how much fun they had and how I helped them to stay committed to their studies.

Teaching can be a hard gig but it’s damn rewarding when you do it properly.

main qimg 6f13f85d0ac48730788be7f39e6d39f7 pjlq
main qimg 6f13f85d0ac48730788be7f39e6d39f7 pjlq

China now accorded Highest Honors in Saudi Arabian Foreign Policy

2022 12 09 12 25
2022 12 09 12 25

Chinas growing stature as a Global Power was confirmed in Riyadh when Supreme Leader and President Xi Jingping was greeted by the Three Royal Party

A Three Royal Party consists of the Three Highest Ranking Royals below the King and Princes

So far only USA had a 3 Royal greeting while every other nation had either a 2 Royal greeting (UK) or a 1 Royal greeting (India) or a 0 Royal Greeting (Pakistan post 2013, Israel)

This was a subtle message from Saudi Arabia that China picked up and were grateful for.

A Second sign was when Four Saudi Jets flew to escort the Air China carrying the President. The Jets formally performed no loops indicate absolute trust in the incoming arrival into their airspace

They performed two loops when Bidens Aircraft came into Saudi Airspace.

In all earlier visits China had had a 2/1 Royal Party welcome into Saudi

Tang Marble Lion

The Chinese market for antiques and antiquities has never been higher. A newly wealthy generation of Chinese investors is spending their money to acquire art and artifacts that have left their country over the centuries. Objects that were once picked up by tourists have suddenly become hugely valuable.

One woman might have been somewhat disappointed when told that a marble lion that she had inherited from her grandparents was not from the Ming Dynasty as she had thought. But she should not have worried. The expert on the Antiques Roadshow realized that the exquisitely carved animal was actually from another golden period in Chinese history—the earlier Tang Dynasty. The expert was so impressed with the statue that he became emotional.

The marble lion was valued at $120,000-$180,000.

President Xi is making an epic state visit to Saudi Arabia and other friendly countries, the biggy before the year is over, wa !

Thrift Store Vase

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2022 12 09 12 28

Going to second-hand shops, thrift stores, and charity shops is always exciting because you never know what you might come home with. Plus, there is always the chance that you might stumble on something hugely valuable that was cheap.

One man on the British Antiques Roadshow brought in his small collection of ceramics to find out whether they had any age. Most had been picked up cheaply in charity shops. One, a square vase in pale green with a pierced pattern on the sides, had cost him just £7.99. It was this vase that got the expert most excited because it was an old Chinese design. It was also a technical masterpiece because the vase was actually two vases joined together during production. Having examined the object, the expert was in no doubt. This was a vase dating from the Ming Dynasty.

The owner was stunned. “Ming, really Ming?” he asked. His joyful reaction when told that it was worth between £5000 and £10,000 was one shared by viewers.

OPEC selling oil via BRICS currency…would leave the dollar in the dust. The EU would have no choice but to abandon the dollar..or come to a grinding & freezing halt. We have $35 trillion debt plus the ‘newly discovered’ $65 trillion in derivatives. I expect a black swan event soon to cover up the collapse.

Charlotte Brontë Ring

Charlotte Bronte Ring Roadshow
Charlotte Bronte Ring Roadshow

When a woman was rifling around in her attic, she found a grimy old locked box. After searching for the key, she was contacted by a relative who had found it. Once opened, she discovered a small ring inside. The ring was decorated on the outside, but the most remarkable thing was that there was a hinge on the edge. What was inside was even stranger—a braid of what looked like hair.

When taken to the Antiques Roadshow, the puzzle of the ring was uncovered. An inscription inside the ring bore the name Charlotte Brontë and a date—the date of the author’s death. The hair inside? Probably hair belonging to Charlotte Brontë. This would not have been uncommon in the 19th century. Mourning jewelry was often made to commemorate loved ones who had died. Other examples of mourning jewelry made of hair were known to have belonged to the Brontë family.

This ring was valued at around £20,000. Never leave a locked box unopened.

3 Tang Marble Lion

 

Tang Dynasty Marble Lion | Vintage Albuquerque | Preview

 

The Chinese market for antiques and antiquities has never been higher. A newly wealthy generation of Chinese investors is spending their money to acquire art and artifacts that have left their country over the centuries. Objects that were once picked up by tourists have suddenly become hugely valuable.

One woman might have been somewhat disappointed when told that a marble lion that she had inherited from her grandparents was not from the Ming Dynasty as she had thought. But she should not have worried. The expert on the Antiques Roadshow realized that the exquisitely carved animal was actually from another golden period in Chinese history—the earlier Tang Dynasty. The expert was so impressed with the statue that he became emotional.

The marble lion was valued at $120,000-$180,000.

2 Fabergé Flowers

 

Magical Faberge flower valued at £1 million – Antiques Roadshow – BBC One

 

Just like the word “Ming” sets the hearts of antique collectors racing, so does the name Fabergé. The master jeweler of the early 20th century worked extensively with the Russian royal family, including making Easter egg gifts for them. The jewelry expert Geoffrey Munn is famously a fan of Fabergé objects. He once mentioned on an episode that he had been informed that watchers who play a drinking game while Antiques Roadshow is on have to take a shot every time he mentions Fabergé.

Those drinkers must have been very drunk by the time he stopped talking about a delicate spray of blossoms he was shown. These were no ordinary flowers, however. The vase was made of solid rock crystal, the stem of gold, the petals were enamel, and a tiny drop of water on each bloom was a diamond. All were made by Fabergé.

When considering what such an object might be worth, the expert was forced to suggest that it could be worth over £1 million.

1 Bohdisattva Statue

 

Early 15th-C Chinese Bodhisattva Gilt Bronze | Extraordinary Finds: Extras | ANTIQUES ROADSHOW | PBS

 

Bronze statues can command high prices, but typically, they have to be in mint condition if they are to be truly valuable. When a slightly damaged bronze statue of a bodhisattva turned up on the Antiques Roadshow, it might not have been immediately obvious that it was worth much at all. The experts in Asian art, however, got very excited—even though it had lost one arm.

The owner of the piece had been shopping in an estate sale when she spotted it. Several antique dealers had already snapped up many of the best objects, but this statue had been ignored. The owner was able to buy it for around $100. The experts agreed she had got a bargain. They dated it to the early 15th century and suggested a retail estimate of $100,000-$150,000. It turned out they were wrong… on both counts.

When the statue was later auctioned, it was described as coming from the earlier Tang Dynasty. It eventually sold for $2 million at Sotheby’s.

Egypt joins BRICS bank – official

The country has reportedly been welcomed into the financial structure, further expanding the lender’s global reach

Egypt has officially become a member of the New Development Bank (NDB) of the BRICS group of major emerging economies, the country’s government announced on Wednesday.

The NDB was established by BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa) in 2014 to finance infrastructure and sustainable development in member states and other emerging economies. Since 2016, the bank has invested in multiple projects, including $7.2 billion in India alone, according to the NDB.

Egypt, which has so far not joined BRICS, expressed an interest in becoming a member in July, along with Turkey and Saudi Arabia. It is now preparing to apply for membership, BRICS International Forum President Purnima Anand earlier said.

Card Table

John and Thomas Seymour were master furniture makers in the late 18th and early 18th century working in Boston. Their “Federal” furniture, made with expensive wood and richly decorated, can be found in museums across the country. This made it all the more unexpected when a table made by the pair was wheeled into the Antiques Roadshow upside down on a cart.

The owner of the table had picked it up at a yard sale for just $25 after haggling the price down from $30. Even then, she might not have purchased the table as her friend thought it was too wobbly to support a lamp. It was also filthy and covered in mold. The demi-lune mahogany card table was more than worth the price she paid and the effort of cleaning it. The experts estimated it might be worth $225,000. Had the owner given it too thorough a cleaning and destroyed the original patina, the price would have plummeted.

When the table was auctioned soon afterward, it sold for $490,000. With the buyer’s premium that is paid to the auction house, this made the final sale price $541,000.

My MM video on Hive and Matrix souls…

From my restricted archives. If you all haven’t seen this one yet, give it a chance.

Confessions of a 5-Star Hotel Concierge

What are some things we can use your services for without being assholes?

We can literally do anything! Don’t feel like you’re being an asshole we are there to make your stay as effortless as possible.

The best way to utilise us is restaurant recommendations, theatre tickets and taxis. We will get you the cheapest prices with VIP service!

Also if you want something different to do ask about local walks. We know all the local hidden treasures you wouldn’t find otherwise.

Do you guys have “training” for all the hidden stuff or are you hired specifically for your knowledge of the area?

No we learn as we go. It does help if you’re local! But more often than not it’s just experience. We have endless files on our computer though we don’t work entirely from memory! Don’t be too impressed!

What’s the craziest thing someone’s requested?

I had to get an elderly gentleman a toupee. He had never worn one before but decided he wanted one to go to dinner that night… not an easy task but we did it! (And he actually looked pretty good!)

How do you deal with illegal requests?

It depends on the request. Usually it’s just a case of turning a blind eye.. after all it’s up to the individual. Prostitutes are somewhat of a grey area! We will never advise a guest on where to find an escort nor will we arrange it for them. However if they ask us to send a car for ‘their guest’ we will!

So if I need some hash can you help a guy out or just hotel/travel stuff? Movies make it seem like you can ask you guys for seriously whatever they wanted.

No we can’t put you in contact with anyone but we will facilitate delivery.

I haven’t ever been asked personally but I was rooming someone once when a bag of white powder fell out of their pocket. They didn’t notice and I didn’t know what to do! When he turned round I just said ‘I think you dropped that’ bit awkward!

Say someone is staying at your hotel and on a whim wants to go to a sold out concert at a local venue. Can you get them in, and if so, do your connections get them regular ticket prices, or are they paying for crazy VIP rates? For something like that does the hotel buy the tix and then charge the guest room?

So we can usually get tickets for a sell out but in actual fact the venue was never really sold out. They have a certain amount of tickets for things like radio competitions or whatever. And of course for us to sell. We always try to negotiate the best price for the guest but the price is the price. The guest doesn’t have to pay upfront they can pay on check out. Money to the venue gets sorted through the accounts department I don’t know exactly how it works.

I’m not impressed with the restaurant and quite fancy a Gregg’s Sausage Roll or four, but all the local Gregg’s are all closed for the evening. What do you do?

Find the nearest Iceland store and buy the frozen greggs sausage rolls. Get the kitchen to bake them in the oven (not the bloody microwave) and send it to your room!

What’s the best way a regular person can enjoy things at the hotel only the rich and famous get?

Simply just ask! Always speak to the concierge not the reception staff. Reception can only do so much but the concierge team can get away with a lot of things.

When you arrive ask us about upgrading your room. If we can we will. If you’re eating in one of the hotel restaurants ask us if we could recommend a table, we’ll get you on a great table and and make sure the wait staff look after you well.

My best tip, though, to really feel like a VIP is call down from your room and ask us to run your bath! You might feel daft but we’ll run an awesome bath and we’ll bring you a bottle of wine to enjoy on the house! Do it! Just ask!

I would feel like such an asshole if I asked someone to come up to my room to run my bath. I mean it’s right there…

Haha yeah and we know you could run it yourself… you can also pour your own beer but you let the barman do it for you! It isn’t just running a bath it’s enjoying a bit of luxury and indulging yourself!

Are any of these people actually embarrassed or sheepish about some of their more outrageous or outlandish requests or demands? Examples?

Nope. The regular money just don’t care they ask for what they want and expect to get it.. the young couples who have saved up for a treat or the elderly couple coming in for afternoon tea.. they get embarrassed making the simplest request, because they don’t want to make work for anyone, they don’t want to be a pest! I’ll do everything I can to make their visit special! It’s a one off for them

How do I figure out what to tip the concierge? Is it a set price or do I do a percentage of what I’m getting etc?

Yeah it’s a bit different. We are built in with the price of your room. You wouldn’t tip us same as you wouldn’t tip reception staff. Save your tips for the bell hop and or wait staff. Of course it’s always nice to receive a tip and we appreciate the gesture but it isn’t expected like it might be in other roles in the hotel

Have there been times when you wanted to smack someone for being an ass/petty?

Yes! We hosted an Aston Martin car show a few summers ago. One guys Aston broke down on the hotels driveway. We called a local garage and left them to it. About an hour later he called the hotel and asked me to meet him at the garage… which I did. He expected us to pay for the repairs and when I told him that wasn’t possible he gave me a proper dressing down infront of everyone. I just had to suck it up and politely nod but I could have quite happily nutted him! Money does funny things to people

Are there any particular celebrities that were especially nice and easy to deal with?

Yeah. To be honest most of them are. It’s very rare you get a ‘diva’ that said TV personalities are generally nicer than pop stars. I’m not sure if you’ll know him but the nicest guy I ever met was Derren Brown! That’s my one name drop!

Who’s the most famous person you have ever met?

So i want to be as transparent as possible but discretion is rule 1 so I can’t give names. The two big ones though was a Prince in the British royal family and an American actor who made my missions quite impossible!

Worst thing a famous/rich person did?

One couple paid to stay in two separate rooms. The excuse ‘he’ gave was that his wife snored… the two nights they were there I showed three different women to his room, all at least half his age!

What is the protocol for handling the wife, when the husband is already checked in with his mistress?

So we never share that information. If the wife turns up and says ‘which room is my husband John smith in’ we say ‘sorry I can’t confirm that we have a John smith staying here tonight’ inevitably she says ‘ I know he’s here’ we say ‘have you tried calling him?’ And on it goes.

We will never tell another soul that you’re in our hotel we wouldn’t tell your own mother. We won’t even put a call through to your room unless you’ve ok’d it

How did you get into the business? how long did it take to work up to 5 star service?

I was really lucky tbh. I did all my training in the hotel I currently work at so I didn’t build up to it as such. I was barman in a different hotel before that. I’m currently working towards my golden keys though which will be a proud moment for me

This movie is so great. Not just the fighting, but the lessons Jin learns through this movie. Just amazing.

https://youtu.be/24Uwl360r78

What Is The Biggest No-No When Being Arrested?

Criminal defense attorney here. Allow me to share with you my personal top ten “don’t do these when being arrested” moments, all of which I have personally had to deal with from clients.

    1. Don’t resist arrest. When the handcuffs come out, you cannot talk your way out of the situation any more; cooperate, and things will be much better for you.
    2. Resist the temptation to “explain yourself” to the officer on your drive to the station. They are recording you — and this can be used against you. Just be quiet.

And some more…

  1. If you are being arrested for drunk driving, don’t refuse the intoxilyzer test. You will likely be much worse off for a refusal than a bad test number. Implied consent will screw you.
  2. Please remember to exercise your right to remain silent. There is nothing you can say that will help you in a meaningful way. Just stop talking.
  3. No one likes the guy who threatens to sue everyone in sight. Just request an attorney and stop talking.
  4. Routine booking questions don’t fall into the category of custodial interrogations, so please don’t refuse to give officers your real name. In many jurisdictions this can be a separate offense.
  5. For the love of all that is holy, do not use the following phrase when interacting with the police: “I’m drunk.” It is even less helpful when shouted at the top of your lungs.
  6. Do not, under any circumstance, ask the officer if he or she can “look the other way just this once” while holding out money in your hand.
  7. Sadly, most officers do not appreciate sarcastic remarks or observations about their weight or intelligence. Surprisingly, sentencing judges don’t particularly care for it either.
  8. Officers are not scared of attorneys. Don’t think that name dropping or threats of lawsuits will get an officer to leave you alone. Pro tip: it won’t.

Stephen Link, Attorney

Finally, a reminder…

Also one of my videos…

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (full movie) with some geopolitics and food

Today’s theme is a movie. I hope you all enjoy this adventure done in 1930’s style.

Sky Captain was a risk, one that did not pay off but you have to admire its audacity.

It was all shot in digital with actors in front of a giant green screen. It pays homage to the black and white Flash Gordon type serials that used to be repeated on TV when I was a kid.

The film is in a steampunk style combining art deco, pulp fiction, film noir and serial film styles of the between the war years.

The story is straightforward, New York is being attacked by giant robots, famous scientists are disappearing and the protagonists race around the world in search of Dr Totenkopf played by Laurence Olivier via the use of archive footage.

Although the script and pacing could be better, the visuals are glorious and the actors are top notch getting in to the spirit of adventure. Angelina Jolie is the standout and sexy as the British Navy pilot with a spot on accent.

The story is pure saving-the-world pulp fantasy. Six eminent scientists have mysteriously disappeared.

Polly, who is covering the story, is summoned to Radio City Music Hall by Dr. Jennings (Trevor Baxter), a scientist who tells her he knows the cause of the disappearances and fears he is next.

In a magical moment of cultural transposition, she meets him in the loge during a screening of “The Wizard of Oz,” one of the film’s touchstones. (Much later in the movie the digitally resurrected image of the young Laurence Olivier appears as an oracular wizardlike technophantom.)

Before an air raid interrupts their meeting, Polly learns that the probable mastermind behind the disappearances is Dr. Totenkopf, the enigmatic leader of a group of pre-World War I scientists, who has faded into obscurity.

As the music hall empties in a panic, a fleet of giant robots approach the city and lands, tramping through Midtown Manhattan and crushing everything in their path.

Polly summons her ex-boyfriend Joe, a daredevil freelance aviator who operates a squadron from a private base not far from Manhattan.

In the initial skirmish, Joe, piloting a P-40 Warhawk, captures a robot.

The enemy retaliates by destroying his fortress.

The next skirmish is a furious aerial battle that zigzags thrillingly through the canyons of Manhattan as Joe’s plane gives chase to a fleet of sinister birdlike robots.

Polly, who was slipped an important clue, refuses to hand it over to Joe unless he makes her his partner, and he reluctantly agrees.

As they zoom around Manhattan, she becomes a pushy backseat driver, snapping directions and arguing with Joe about their troubled romantic history.

She accuses him of dumping her three years earlier.

He says she sabotaged his plane, and their flirtatious bickering continues for much of the movie.

Having determined that the robots are being dispatched from a secret location in Nepal, they fly to Asia, stopping along the way at a British airstrip suspended above the earth where Franky (Ms. Jolie), a regal British air force commander in an eye patch, lends her forces to the cause. Once Joe and Polly reach the Himalayas, where Totenkopf’s war machine is secreted inside a giant ice cave, they discover the dreadful meaning of “the world of tomorrow.”

I travel to the US once or twice a year. There are a few things that are always quite striking to me in the airports:

  • For obvious reasons, the first thing I tend to notice is immigration and customs. I mostly come in through Newark or San Francisco, which both tend to be unfriendly, inefficient and full of absurd bureaucracy. DC and San Diego are much better in terms of efficiency. Edit June 24: I take it all back! I just landed at Boston Logan, and my arrival was smooth, quick and highly automated. A big leap forward from the time I spent two hours in line for immigration at SFO last year! Edit July 1: I take back taking it back! I came in through LAX with my family on Saturday and it was an absolute nightmare. We spent nearly 90 minutes in different lines before finally getting to see a (very friendly) CBP officer.
  • I always feel uneasy from seeing all kinds of security guards (eg. Port Authority) carrying guns. (Please, before commenting on this, read https://www.quora.com/If-you-are-from-Norway-visiting-the-United-States-for-any-reason-what-is-the-first-thing-you-notice-Is-there-anything-in-particular-that-bothers-you/answer/Christian-Bull/comment/97627081)
  • The masses of people doing menial jobs. Labor is expensive in Norway, so we optimize and automate. I remember a friend I traveled with, shocked at seeing people whose job it was to move bags from one conveyor belt to another, blurting out “Where are we? The third world!?”

Then there’s the noise. The US is an incredibly noisy place. Trucks, buses and hotel room ventilation especially so. They’re simply a lot more noisy than European buses, trucks and hotel room HVAC. I’ve been in a lot of hotels with spectacularly noisy ventilation. It’s very clearly possible to move air without every single component generating the greatest possible amount of noise, but I guess that’s unamerican.

So in general the first impressions tend to be not that great (notable exception: San Diego).

Obviously, something keeps me and my family coming back, however. This summer we’re heading to the US again for our 5th family vacation in 12 years, and the kids are beyond excited. There’s just an incredible wealth of things to do, see and experience in what is – once you’re done with the airport – a very welcoming, free and safe country.

  • The widespread use of cash. I honestly can’t remember the last time I paid cash in Norway for anything. I couldn’t tell you how a Norwegian Krone bill of any denomination looks. We mostly use direct debit cards. Even drug addicts selling magazines on the street take Vipps, our Venmo equivalent.
  • …and speaking of cash. 1 cent coins! Really?
  • What you pay at the register isn’t what it says on the label. WTF? I’m supposed to add 6.23% tax in my head?
  • Tipping. Oh Lord! The unspoken, unwritten rules of tipping are just impossible to make sense of. Just figuring out what hotel employees I’m supposed to tip and how much is bewildering and has taken me years. So far I’ve figured out that I’m supposed to tip bell boys $1 per bag, $3 for the valet who brings my car (but nothing for the one who parks it!?) and housekeeping around $5 per day. For the rest of them I have no clue… Receptionists? I have no clue, but I did it once after receiving several packages to my room, and it felt super duper awkward. Not doing that again. Restaurants I’ve got figured out. The rest of the service industries – not so much. I suspect I deeply offended the people who took us on a dolphin safari in Hawaii by not tipping, but I’m really not sure. Tips welcome! Literally.

Oven Crisp Chicken Wings

This is a very tasty way to make wings. You can dip them in your favorite sauce when baked or they are yummy as-is. Recipe from CD Kitchen on the Internet.

2022 11 23 15 28
2022 11 23 15 28

Ingredients

Directions

  • Cut wings at joints.
  • Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
  • Be sure wings are thawed and dry them well with paper towels.
  • Combine flour, paprika, garlic salt, black pepper and cayenne pepper in a plastic bag.
  • Shake to mix ingredients and add wings.
  • Line a large baking sheet with Release foil and melt the butter on it. ( Makes for easy clean up.).
  • Add wings to pan and turn to coat.
  • Bake for 30 minutes.
  • Turn wings over and bake for 15 more minutes or until crispy and done.

I have written extensively on this subject, focusing for a moment on what is China doing and what is the US doing which are in opposite directions. If you go the wrong direction for long enough then you are in real trouble, which America is in right now.

CHINA’S RISE

Forget about all the state capitalism vs corporate capitalism, yes this is an underlying difference but results are results. Either you are in the game or you are not and the USA is not in the game, China is.

It is all about one thing, investment. You do not invest you get nothing. Here is Pudong in 1982 when I first arrived in China. NOTHING NADA ZERO development.

main qimg 21c1045a93086fa3cf294ee3f36f7dab lq
main qimg 21c1045a93086fa3cf294ee3f36f7dab lq

Then there is Pudong today, same photo but completely developed.

AMERICA’S FALL

Here is Detroit where I grew up in 1950:

main qimg 769bba236b706352c16d15a2f8bb38bb lq
main qimg 769bba236b706352c16d15a2f8bb38bb lq

Ostensibly the ‘richest’ city in the world the year I was born, 1950.

Here is Detroit a few years ago:

main qimg d7b418ee7474da593a887889b8974c9c lq
main qimg d7b418ee7474da593a887889b8974c9c lq

I chose a nice image, just the after effects of destruction.

It is all about investment. The USA does not invest in anything other than military. Nothing, nada. The Trump administration even litigated against universities who were trying to enroll more blacks and minorities in favor of Chinese and whites, but really Chinese as they were the highest test scorers so they get in and nothing for black, latinos or other US citizens. Incarceration rates and numbers at 2.3 million, drugs, lack of opportunity, do you get it? America is still going in the wrong direction and now we have the QAnon types running the Republican party so you can forget about them to help. Up to the Democrats who are ok but they are no world beaters when it comes to investment as they are govt types and don’t get the private sector.

And Trump? Mr Glitz was the exact opposite of investment, but if you do not invest you die and he invested nothing.

The USA will die and be hollowed out and China will dominate the world completely if the USA and Europe and even Australia, but especially the USA, does not clean up its act and invest.

Invest in their education, in vocational training, in tax incentives to invest to get companies back to Detroit and everywhere else.

I could go on, but this nonsense about China’s gain is the US loss is only because the USA put all of their money and effort and investment INTO CHINA AND NOT INTO THE USA FOR THE PAST 35 YEARS!

As Everett Dirksen, a great US Senator once said when asked about the budget, ‘a billion here a billion there, and before you know it, you are talking about real money’. How about a trillion here a trillion there and before you know it, you are broke like the USA is about to be!

I could easily make a case that every US company was headed up by traitors, strong word I get it, but I want to make a point. If all you want to do is make profits in the next quarter, you and your country and your family and your future WILL LOSE.

China is also investing internally not just FDI any longer.

Good on them, now can the rest of the world get off their bums and stop thinking that selling each other cups of coffee and beers is good enough? And that all of the fake hedge funds and other financial ‘products’ are garbage and are not benefiting Americans rather a small elite that now does their business in China as they make more money there.

Hope that puts a different focus on this debate and gets people to back off on China and to focus instead on their own countries and their own people and solve their own problems.

There is plenty of time to discuss this all with China but clean up your acts first.

Roasted Asparagus with Mushrooms

Simple understated elegance for your table.

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2022 11 23 15 33

Ingredients

Directions

  • Preheat oven to 425*.
  • In a non-stick baking baking sheet with sides, toss the asparagus and mushrooms with the oil and season with salt and pepper.
  • Spread the vegetables in a single layer.
  • Roast for 10 minutes or until the vegetables are tender and browned, turning once or twice.
  • Place vegetables on a serving platter.
  • Sprinkle vegetables with vinegar and toss gently to combine.
  • Season with additional salt and pepper as desired.
  • Serve warm or at room temperature.
  • Makes 4 servings.

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2022 11 23 15 34

Blanche Monnier Spent 25 Years Locked In An Attic, Just Because She Loved The Wrong Man

Blanche Monnier 1901
Blanche Monnier 1901

The disturbing picture above is not a still shot from a horror movie, but rather is a hospital-room photo of Blanche Monnier, a French girl who was kept captive for 25 years in a padlocked, shuttered room where she was forced to live amidst pests, rats, human excrement, and filth.  Her discovery occurred on May 23, 1901 after the Paris Attorney General received an anonymous letter indicating a woman was being held captive in a home located on “21 rue de la Visitation” street in a wealthy neighborhood of Poiters, France.

The anonymous letter read in part:

“Monsieur Attorney General: I have the honor to inform you of an exceptionally serious occurrence. I speak of a spinster who is locked up in Madame Monnier’s house, half starved, and living on a putrid litter for the past twenty-five years – in a word, in her own filth.”

The Attorney General notified local police and asked them to investigate but nobody expected anything to come of it.   According to police who knew the area well, the only two people living at the address mentioned in the letter were Madame Louise Monnier and her middle-aged son Marcel.

Both Monniers had lived exemplary lives, Marcel was  a law school graduate and a former sub-prefect.   Madame Monnier’s husband, Emile, had been the head of the local arts faculty prior to his death in 1879 while Madame Monnier herself belonged to the illustrious Poitier family (the city was named for them).  She had even received an award from the Committee of Good Works for her philanthropic deeds.

Some of the older police officers were able to recall one other strange detail however.   Madame Monnier had a beautiful daughter named Blanche who had apparently vanished without a trace twenty-five years earlier.

Amazingly enough, the disappearance of a young socialite had somehow taken place without any police investigation or alarm being raised by her own family.  Despite the odd nature of the disappearance, nobody  had any idea of what would follow or the heartbreaking story that had remained hidden for decades.

When the police arrived, they proceeded to search the house and quickly found an upstairs room which had been padlocked shut.  Breaking the door open, they were horrified to find Blanche Monnier, naked, emaciated, and  with her head buried under the covers.  According to an account by one of the officers:

We immediately gave the order to open the casement window.  This was done with great difficulty, for the old dark-colored curtains fell down in a heavy shower of dust.  To open the shutters, it was necessary to remove them from their right hinges.  As soon as light entered the room, we noticed, in the back, lying on a bed, her head and body covered by a repulsively filthy blanket, a woman identified as Mademoiselle Blanche Monnier.  

The unfortunate woman was lying completely naked on a rotten straw mattress.  All around her was formed a sort of crust made from excrement, fragments of meat, vegetables, fish, and rotten bread.  We also saw oyster shells and bugs running across Mademoiselle Monnier’s bed.  The air was so unbreathable, the odor given off by the room was so rank, that it was impossible for us to stay any longer to proceed with our investigation.

Terrified at the sight of strangers, Blanche continued to hide her head under a blanket.  She was quickly wrapped in a blanket and taken to a hospital in Paris for observation.

Weighing a mere 55 pounds at the time of her discovery,  Blanche seemed incapable of any kind of coherent speech and was visibly frightened at being exposed to sunlight.  As they would later discover, she hadn’t seen the sun in nearly 25 years.   Police examining the miserable cell where she had been kept found the word “Liberte” (Liberty) scrawled across the walls.

They also determined that Blanche hadn’t worn clothing for the previous twenty years and her only friends were the rats that scrambled to eat the crumbs scattered on the floor of her room. Even as police were sending her off to hospital, Blanche’s elderly mother simply sat in the living room, apparently stunned at what was happening.

After police finished searching the house, they then proceeded to question Madame Monnier and her son.  While Marcel continued to bluster and insisted that his sister was  “foul, angry, overly excited, and full of rage”,  the doctors examining her at the hospital simply saw a frail and almost mute middle-aged woman who seemed excited at being given a bath and given new clothes.

It was only after both Monniers were arrested that police interrogators managed to unravel the entire horrific story.

Twenty-five years earlier, Blanche had been a vivacious and attractive 25-year-old socialite facing pressure from her mother to find a suitable husband.  Among her many suitors happened to be an older attorney who lived nearby with whom Blanche fell in love.

Blanche Monnier
Blanche Monnier

After becoming intimate, it was her announcement to her family that she wanted to marry this attorney that the trouble began.   Her mother was adamantly opposed to the match.

Not only was the attorney much older than Blanche was but he had little money of his own.  For this reason, Madame Monnier insisted that Blanche find someone more suitable.

When Blanche threatened to elope, her family took extreme action.

They locked Blanche up in an upstairs bedroom and insisted that she would only be released if she agreed to never see her intended again. Though Madame Monnier and the rest of her family likely thought Blanche would give in, she remained adamant.

As the years passed, Blanche stayed in her prison with no sunlight and only being fed scraps from her mother’s meals.  Even after her lover died in 1885, the imprisonment continued while her family told everyone that she had disappeared.

But it wasn’t just the Monniers who were part of the conspiracy to keep Blanche imprisoned. Various servants would later testify that they had often heard Blanche’s pleas to be released but didn’t say anything, whether due to loyalty to their employers, belief that Blanche was insane, or fear of being arrested as accessories to her imprisonment.

To this day, nobody knows who wrote the note that eventually secured Blanche’s release.

Whether it was a servant or someone who had heard about her secondhand is anybody’s guess.

Blanche’s mother, Madame Monnier Demarconnay, was arrested the next day and imprisoned at around six o’clock in the evening.  Despite the precautions of the police, a surging crowd gathered at the prison with shouts of hatred and revenge.

Madame Monnier Demarconnay was immediately placed in the infirmary (she suffered from heart disease) where she unexpectedly died 15 days later.  It was said that her last words were spoken to the doctors who entered the room just moments before she died.

They recalled that she cried out, “Ah, my poor Blanche!”

Her brother, Marcel, stood trial alone, accused of being his mother’s accomplice.

The trial opened on October 7, 1901.  Four days later, Marcel was found guilty and sentenced to a mere 15 months in prison.

The judgment on October 11 raised applause in the courtroom and outside on the Palace Square, the crowd showed their approval, screaming and shouting hostile threats at the convicted man.  \

Marcel immediately appealed the verdict and in a judgment announced on November 20, 1901, the court of appeal found that he had exercised no violence on the woman and hence, he was acquitted and released from jail.

Although Blanche Monnier did put on some weight over time, she never regained her sanity. She died in a Blois psychiatric hospital in 1913, 12 years after she was discovered captive in her room.

I can’t speak for *all foreigners* who have been to China, but as for myself…

I started to praise China when I realized that most of what I’d been told about this country were ugly lies.

When I realized this truth, my sense of justice was outraged and I began to see the Chinese people, government, and nation as a whole, not as I’d been told, but as they really are.

Now let me give you some context…

I came to China in 2012, and at that time I believed the mainstream narrative that “Chinese people are okay, but it’s the CCP that is evil”…

And of course, I often spouted the “Chairman Mao 9 trillion dead!”, “Xinjiang!!”, “Free Tibet!!” stories as well.

But then I learned the truth.

I learned of the Imperialist invasions we Westerners somewhat euphemistically refer to as the “Opium Wars

Which basically went down like this…

British Power 1: “oh damn, we want Chinese goods, but have nothing they’re interested in! Short of outright invasion, how do we get their goods?”

David Sassoon: “Why don’t we just get them addicted to opium and soon they’ll be begging us to take their goods! Mwahaahhaha!”

British Power 1: “The royal family gives their full support!”

And then when opium addiction got out of control, the Chinese emperor arrested the smugglers and formally banned opium…

The British invaded, devastated the country and “freed Hong Kong™”

And I learned of the two brutal invasions by Japan and especially the absolutely horrible crimes committed in Nanking and by Unit 731 .

And I started to see China not as the “evil creeping enemy” we are led to believe her to be…

But a traumatized and bullied child who finally had a growth spurt and became too big for the bully to have any power over her anymore.

And so the bully moves onto other smaller targets, but still talks smack behind China’s back and tells the “cool” kids lies about her to stop them from playing with her.

My change in attitude reminds me of a poem, described by deceased rapper Tupac Shakur, who said:

“If a rose managed to grow through the concrete, you wouldn’t judge the damaged petals…
You’d respect its tenacity; you’d celebrate its will to reach the sun!”

I now see China as the rose that grew from the concrete.

Notes (aka Red Pills) for the (still) Brainwashed:

  • in Syria.
  • The West still lies about Uighur “concentration camps” in Xinjiang.
  • The West still lies about Tibet and is strangely silent about the CIA Tibetan program
  • which originally paid the Dalai Lama $180,000 a year to support covert action on China’s border.
  • The West still lies about the Tiananmen Square massacre and is also “strangely silent” about Wikileaks cables proving that no “massacre”
  • took place there.
  • The West still lies about the real situation in Hong Kong and Beijing’s real (rather normal) intentions for the original extradition law.
  • The West still lies about China’s handling of COVID-19 (which as a non-Chinese living in China, I think was VERY good) in order to cover for America’s fumbling, whilst also conveniently heaping international hatred toward China.

With these facts in mind, how can we believe anything we see on mainstream English news?

Did Chairman Kim really shoot anti-aircraft rockets into a dissenter’s body?

Likely not.

Did Putin really pay Taliban for any American deaths in Afghanistan?

Likely not.

I refuse to believe atrocity propaganda

anymore.

This is why I praise China.

Despite 100 years of brutalization, bullying and smearing by the West, I literally never see the same atrocity propaganda, lies and smearing in Chinese news when referring to the West.

Sure, there is criticism, but smears and demonization? Nope.

Confucius once wrote that “The rule of virtue can be compared to the Pole Star which commands the homage of the multitude of stars without leaving its place.”

Ponder that one for a while…and then look at the Chinese flag and tell me what you see.

2022 11 23 14 48
2022 11 23 14 48

Conclusion: No nation is perfect, especially China, but I praise them because they are humble, hardworking and family-oriented.

I support the government because unlike Western nations, they do not allow capital interests to rise above government authority – and this makes the ideological/cultural/political subversion that has happened elsewhere – very difficult.

And is also the real reason why the West is so anti-CCP.

AP Fires Reporter Who Claimed “Russian Missiles” Hit Poland

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The Associated Press has FIRED Investigative reporter James LaPorta over his botched story that “Russian Missiles” hit Poland.

That story, widely repeated across the internet and on TV, almost triggered World War 3.   It was taken offline the following day and replaced with an editor’s note admitting the single source was wrong and that “subsequent reporting showed that the missiles were Russian-made and most likely fired by Ukraine in defense against a Russian attack.”

The piece, which was originally co-bylined with John Leicester (who is still working at the AP), attributed the information to a single “senior U.S. intelligence official,” despite the AP’s rule that it “routinely seeks and requires more than one source when sourcing is anonymous.”

An AP spokesperson did not comment on LaPorta’s ouster but instead wrote: 

“The rigorous editorial standards and practices of The Associated Press are critical to AP’s mission as an independent news organization. To ensure our reporting is accurate, fair and fact-based, we abide by and enforce these standards, including around the use of anonymous sources.”

LaPorta, a former Daily Beast contributor, declined to comment.

The CGI tends to be a little too much for the older folk, but it’s a fun movie.

 

Will the United States be successful in destroying China, and ballads such as Neil Young’s “Cortez the Killer” be written about China in the future? (Includes the results of the Biden-Xi talks)

That’s the American plan. Let’s be real. Yes it is.

In 2020 China spent 700 billion ( 5% of 14 trillion GDP) for infrastructure development compared to that of the US 100 billion (0.5% of 20 trillion GDP). China has a cost advantage over the US by 10:1. As a result, to catch up with China, the US has to spend 7 trillion to equal what had been done by China. Case in point, it takes 5 million to build one mile of high-speed railway vs 200 million for the not-so-fast high-speed train per mile in California. What is worst is the time to completion in the US where not a single project has been completed on time within the budget with specified quality without corruption. With this kind of track record, no wonder the US can’t afford too many new infrastructures except patching up and go such as century-old New York subways and the ageless T system in Boston.

Relatable.

Washington’s real interests in Ukraine must be understood not as a war of values but rather as a cruise-missile launched at China, not Russia.

Spot the problem here: First, the EU has lost Russia as a partner, yet the EU insists to maintain trade with China. Two, China, though, must bend to our EU ‘rules’ on how it configures its economy. Thirdly, China too, must accept to be ‘castigated’ by the likes of Olaf Scholtz and Charles Michel for ‘not having put an end to Russia’s illegal war in Ukraine’. Fourth, we, the EU, anyway do not intend to depend on you. And fifth, clean up your human rights abuses!

Wow! Well, the initial reaction might be a spell back at the Academy on the art of diplomatic discourse, as being one idea. Nonetheless, the sheer number of non-sequiturs to this stance is startling. Firstly, the rest of the world is not greatly interested in EU leaders’ woke thought-code (the Chinese simply cancelled EU Chief Michel’s proposed speech to a gathering in Beijing). Europe has lost Russia; It will likely lose China. And probably, it will find itself excluded from the colossus, free-trade area unfolding in Eurasia – as the blocs differentiate into separate trading spheres.

Where does this leave that bruited EU ambition to be a global player? … Perhaps the EU’s thought-code culture might be the problem to its ambitions.

You (the EU) have not thought this through: You are now a dependent appendage of the U.S. economy – a prop to maintaining America’s exalted spot in the global system – at a time when its predatory economic model of money-printing at zero interest has been holed by an iceberg (known as accelerating inflation). American industry needs a captive market in a world that is fast seceding into two separate spheres. You have ‘elected’ to fill that role.

Containing China is America’s explicit goal. And that means blocking the European continent from moving closer to Asia to form the world’s biggest free trade zone. Washington had to stop that (i.e. sabotage Nord Stream) in order to preserve Europe as a captive market, and what remains of dollar ‘privilege’.

As an American dependency, Europe is perceived as having conceded not only economic, but political agency too. Simply put, the EU has lost its cheap-energy business model with the ‘I stand with Ukraine’ woke thought and speech codes, and now finds that it is impotent politically. Why would ‘others’ deal with the courtiers, when they can go directly to the ‘Command’ in Washington?

Furthermore, the culture block the EU adopts prevents it from bringing the Ukraine war to a political end. Rather, what it does is bake-in escalation.

Here is the problem: You bought into liberal America’s notion of a coercive process of induced government dysfunctionality – that is to stay, the state of mass psychosis that any weaponised dysfunctional state of society can produce. And it’s been a success (on its own narrow terms).

The bigger message is that ‘induced dysfunctionality’ marching in lockstep, and using culture block tactics to suppress any dissenting opinions, can and does produce a society that can be ruled over (made compliant through unpleasantness and applied pain) – without having to govern (i.e. make things actually work).

And induced compliance has proved its use for implementing all sorts of other ideological schemes that the public would otherwise never accept.

Weaponised dysfunctionality was trialled during the recent pandemic. The public was persuaded to accept systemic degradation of the economy. Western leaders regularly have expressed a pleasant surprise at the degree of public compliance achieved during the lockdowns. Of course, it was only made possible by ‘woke mobs’ on social platforms impugning the motives of anyone questioning ‘the Science’, the scale of emergency, or the long-lasting toxic effects on the real economy. Cultural roadblock was imposed.

The same process is evident today: The EU is in (another) ‘emergency’ because it made a strategic misjudgement over its Russia sanctions. The political class thought the effects of EU sanctions on Russia offered a ‘slam dunk’ outcome: Russia would fold in weeks, and all would return to how it was before. Energy would flow freely to the EU again; things would go back to ‘normal’.

Instead, Europe faces economic melt-down from astronomic fuel costs.

Yet, some leaders in Europe – zealots for the Green Transition – quietly embrace this sanctions ‘failure’ and the resulting economic mayhem caused by spiking energy prices – weaponising it as a strategic asset to accelerate Green Transition. European authorities actively encourage this pathological approach, believing that the pain incurred will force compliance on their societies to embrace de-industrialisation, accept carbon footprint monitoring and the Green Transition; and too, to bear prospective monumental Transition costs.

Yellen explicitly celebrated the financial pain (dysfunctionality) precisely as serving to accelerate ‘The Transition’ (like it or not) – even were that to push the citizen out of employment, and to the cusp of society.

Here then, is the problem: Some in the EU political class may hope for an intensification of the war on Russia, seeing in it all sorts of benefits – in extending centralised control over member-states and facilitating new means of printing money (mutualised debt instruments) ostensibly to fund Ukraine.

Sure – but there are fears for societal breakdown in Europe too. The problem? The EU cannot bring Ukraine to a deal.

The point is that the EU has framed the Ukraine conflict in absolute victim-vein terms, in line with woke cultural tropes: A revanchist Russian leader, dreaming of former empire, illegally, and without provocation has invaded and seized territory from its neighbour, whilst committing heinous war crimes in so doing. The perpetrator must face a humiliating defeat – otherwise, if he gets an inch, he will take a mile. And the global order will be ‘toast’.

The ‘online mob’ has been steered, through ‘influencers’, to insist that U.S. Realist Camp’s support for a negotiated settlement is tantamount to taking Russia’s side: rushing to denounce all voices – from Bill Burns’ (then U.S. ambassador and now CIA chief) celebrated 2008 telegram ‘Niet means Niet’ warning that any NATO takeover of Ukraine means war; to Prof Mearsheimer, Kissinger, or Elon Musk – as dangerous ‘Putin apologists’. Musk now faces a security probe.

The logic is stark: This shrinks the Overton window to only those advocating the total defeat of Russia and an end to Putin’s ‘regime’ – even if it risks WWIII. It is the ‘slash and burn’ stance, favoured by the U.S. and allied EU neo-cons.

So, we have Washington saying it has no interests, per se, in Ukraine – beyond supporting Kiev in recovering its territory. The Biden Administration says it is guided by the wishes of the Ukrainian people.

Do you still not see the problem to which this logic takes us? It is a Potemkin Village position. All façade and nothing ‘behind’ or around it. The conflict in Ukraine is not itself ‘a unique thing’, but a ‘thing’ of two leaves. At one level, Ukraine is a ‘state’ among surrounding states; and at another level, it is itself an actor. A ‘player in events’ – an owner indeed, of a certain history.

What the Potemkin ‘approach’ does is to artificially free-up some sort of abstract ‘clearing in the wood’ amidst the density of trees, in which the visible thing – Ukraine – is to be positioned, and set before the western spectator public, stripped naked of surrounding context; stripped of history and of the fact of itself being a conscient player in an extended drama.

The Realists have been culture blocked. Their motives impugned.

The title to this play – ‘America has no fundamental interests in Ukraine, and is but an innocent, called up upon the stage by an act of brutal villainy’ – is an obvious fraud. As is the corollary that the EU must therefore support the ‘war’ as Ukraine is victim.

Plainly said, the U.S. is pursuing a bi-partisan geopolitical strategy to quash China’s meteoric rise and preserve America’s dominant role in the world order. Can there be any doubt about that? No, none. For two decades U.S. foreign policy has centred around its ‘pivot to Asia’.

Washington’s real interests in Ukraine thus must be understood not as a war of values – as the EU has it – but rather as a cruise-missile launched at China, not Russia. In gist, the ‘high road’ to collapsing Beijing is perceived in DC to pass through a weakened Moscow. The NATO response to Ukraine is intended as ‘a letter’ to China, concerning Taiwan. And the comprehensive sanctions on Russia are a missive to the rest of the world to not trifle with America’s absolute primacy.

But if this latter context is absolutely ‘off the table’, through culture block and the only agenda item being the sham Potemkin Village construct, then what is there to talk about?

The matter then must inexorably be settled by events – not talk. Who has the potential for escalatory dominance? Russia has many – and various – options. Ukraine has only one. Pushing more troops at the contact line and suffering heavy losses. What does the West have: WWIII?

Can you see now why your peace efforts have come to naught? Actually, President Xi explained the situation courteously, yet pointedly, to Chancellor Scholtz during the latter’s day trip to Beijing: Having lectured Scholz on the evanescent quality of Trust in any political relationship (a quality that Xi said should be nurtured), he emphasised the need for Europe to avoid an ideological approach to relations.

Rough Translation: You (Scholz) have destroyed your relationship with Russia; you have pursued a bloc-orientated ideological policy, and this has been to your disadvantage. Do not think you can do the same with China.

(Or with the rest of the world, Xi might well have added).

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Back to 2017 in my freshman year, I shared a dorm room with 5 other students, including an Uyghur student from Xinjiang Minority Autonomous Region.

The first night we entered university, he told us that he was a Muslim and he hoped us could respect his religious beliefs. Among the five of us, one was Zhuang ethnic minority, and four Han Chinese. I thought it was nothing big deal.

Later on we got to know each other, he was from Xinjiang, so at first he spoke Uyghur language, until he attended elementary school had he started learning Mandarin(His Mandarin is pretty good btw).

He was two years older than us. He told us it was because ethnic minority students like him needed to attend 2-year pre-college courses in order to have a better grounding on Mandarin, English and Math.

I am not gonna lie, there is not big difference between us, except he needs to go to Islamic cafeteria to have meals( Every university and college in China has muslim cafeteria to meet some students’ need). We attended classes together, did our assignments and presentations together, and PUBG together, sometimes we went out and ate at Islamic restaurants, everything was fine.

We started our college as an undecided major so after the freshman year we were split up, but we still live in the same building, so sometimes we still hang out together, have meals in the Islamic cafeteria, and last year I bought him an AirPods as gift.

There are 56 minority ethnicities in China, the customs vary vastly, we just seek common points while reserving difference, that’s all.


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main qimg a836eb3b54d1bfda19eca4f0d67e23dd lq

My Uyghur friend, he’s a college student, a man from Xinjiang Minority Autonomous Region, a Chinese citizen from 1/56 of the ethnic minorities. If he does not collude with foreign power, trying to take Xinjiang apart from China, if he like people in the pic below , love his country, the land where he born and raised, and protect the land, why shouldn’t I support him? I dare to say ALL Chinese will support him!

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main qimg a823350b02e9324cf7795b3c8e760701 lq

He’s really good.

Gravy-Smothered Salisbury Steak

“Still looking for that perfect Salisbury Steak.”

2022 11 16 09 24
2022 11 16 09 24

Ingredients

Directions

  • In a bowl, whisk the egg and milk.
  • Add bread crumbs, 1 tablespoon gravy mix and onion.
  • Crumble beef over mixture and mix well.
  • Shape into two patties, about 3/4 inches thick.
  • Broil 3-4 inches from the heat for 6-7 minutes on each side or until meat is no longer pink and a meat thermometer reads 160°.
  • Place the remaining gravy mix in a small saucepan; stir in the water and mustard. Bring to a boil; cook and stir until thickened. Serve over patties.

A ship without a rudder is a…

Mackenna’s Gold 1969 – Gregory Peck, Omar Sharif, Camilla Sparv, Julie Newmar ( 720 X 1280 )

And now for a special treat. This is a 1960’s era Western. I remember watching it in our small-town movie theater, and it was just great. I remember the short opening nude scene, and the galloping horses in the valley of the gold. I well remember the cliff house and the crusty cowboys.

If you have two spare hours, this movie with teleport you all to another time and place.

https://youtu.be/GHDy9ECGcfw

The Wind from the Sun by Arthur C. Clarke (Full Text)

THE WIND FROM THE SUN

Arthur C. Clarke

Arthur C. Clarke is perhaps the most famous modern science-fiction writer in the world, seriously rivaled for that title only by the late Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein. Clarke is probably most widely known for his work on Stanley Kubrick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey, but is also renowned as a novelist, short-story writer, and as a writer of nonfiction, usually on technological subjects such as spaceflight. He has won three Nebula Awards, three Hugo Awards, the British Science Fiction Award, the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, and a Grandmaster Nebula for Life Achievement. His best-known books include the novels Childhood’s End, The City and the Stars, The Deep Range, Rendezvous with Rama, A Fall of Moondust, 2001: A Space Odyssey, 2010: Odyssey Two, 2061: Odyssey Three, Songs of Distant Earth, and The Fountains of Paradise; and the collections The Nine Billion Names of God, Tales of Ten Worlds, and The Sentinel. He has also written many nonfiction books on scientific topics, the best known of which are probably Profiles of the Future and The Wind from the Sun, and is generally considered to be the man who first came up with the idea of the communications satellite. His most recent books are the novel 3001: The Final Odyssey, the nonfiction collection Greetings, Carbon-Based Bipeds: Collected Works 1944-1998, the fiction collection Collected Short Stories, and a novel written in collaboration with Stephen Baxter, The Light of Other Days. Most of Clarke’s best-known books will be coming back into print, appropriately enough, in 2001. Born in Somerset, England, Clarke now lives in Sri Lanka, and was recently knighted.

Here, in one of the best known of all Future Sports stories, he gives the ancient sport of sailboat racing a whole new dimension . . .

* * *

The enormous disc of sail strained at its rigging, already filled with the wind that blew between the worlds. In three minutes the race would begin, yet now John Merton felt more relaxed, more at peace, than at any time for the past year. Whatever happened when the Commodore gave the starting signal, whether Diana carried him to victory or defeat, he had achieved his ambition. After a lifetime spent designing ships for others, now he would sail his own.

“T minus two minutes,” said the cabin radio. “Please confirm your readiness.”

One by one, the other skippers answered. Merton recognized all the voices—some tense, some calm—for they were the voices of his friends and rivals. On the four inhabited worlds, there were scarcely twenty men who could sail a sun yacht; and they were all there, on the starting line or aboard the escort vessels, orbiting twenty-two thousand miles above the equator.

“Number One—Gossamer—ready to go.”

“Number Two—Santa Maria—all O.K.”

“Number Three—Sunbeam—O.K.”

“Number Four—Woomera—all systems GO.”

Merton smiled at that last echo from the early, primitive days of astronautics. But it had become part of the tradition of space; and there were times when a man needed to evoke the shades of those who had gone before him to the stars.

“Number Five—Lebedev—we’re ready.”

“Number Six—Arachne—O.K.”

Now it was his turn, at the end of the line; strange to think that the words he was speaking in this tiny cabin were being heard by at least five billion people.

“Number Seven—Diana—ready to start.”

“One through Seven acknowledged,” answered that impersonal voice from the judge’s launch. “Now T minus one minute.”

Merton scarcely heard it. For the last time, he was checking the tension in the rigging. The needles of all the dynamometers were steady; the immense sail was taut, its mirror surface sparkling and glittering gloriously in the sun.

To Merton, floating weightless at the periscope, it seemed to fill the sky. As well it might—for out there were fifty million square feet of sail, linked to his capsule by almost a hundred miles of rigging. All the canvas of all the tea clippers that had once raced like clouds across the China seas, sewn into one gigantic sheet, could not match the single sail that Diana had spread beneath the sun. Yet it was little more substantial than a soap bubble; that two square miles of aluminized plastic were only a few millionths of an inch thick.

“T minus ten seconds. All recording cameras ON.”

Something so huge, yet so frail, was hard for the mind to grasp. And it was harder still to realize that this fragile mirror could tow him free of Earth merely by the power of the sunlight it would trap.

“. . . five, four, three, two, one, CUT!”

Seven knife blades sliced through seven thin lines tethering the yachts to the mother ships that had assembled and serviced them. Until this moment, all had been circling Earth together in a rigidly held formation, but now the yachts would begin to disperse, like dandelion seeds drifting before the breeze. And the winner would be the one that first drifted past the Moon.

Aboard Diana, nothing seemed to be happening. But Merton knew better. Though his body could feel no thrust, the instrument board told him that he was now accelerating at almost one thousandth of a gravity. For a rocket, that figure would have been ludicrous—but this was the first time any solar yacht had ever attained it. Diana’s design was sound; the vast sail was living up to his calculations. At this rate, two circuits of the Earth would build up his speed to escape velocity, and then he could head out for the Moon, with the full force of the Sun behind him.

The full force of the Sun . . . He smiled wryly, remembering all his attempts to explain solar sailing to those lecture audiences back on Earth. That had been the only way he could raise money, in those early days. He might be Chief Designer of Cosmodyne Corporation, with a whole string of successful spaceships to his credit, but his firm had not been exactly enthusiastic about his hobby.

“Hold your hands out to the Sun,” he’d said. “What do you feel? Heat, of course. But there’s pressure as well—though you’ve never noticed it, because it’s so tiny. Over the area of your hands, it comes to only about a millionth of an ounce.

“But out in space, even a pressure as small as that can be important, for it’s acting all the time, hour after hour, day after day. Unlike rocket fuel, it’s free and unlimited. If we want to, we can use it. We can build sails to catch the radiation blowing from the Sun.”

At that point, he would pull out a few square yards of sail material and toss it toward the audience. The silvery film would coil and twist like smoke, then drift slowly to the ceiling in the hot-air currents.

“You can see how light it is,” he’d continue. “A square mile weighs only a ton, and can collect five pounds of radiation pressure. So it will start moving—and we can let it tow us along, if we attach rigging to it.

“Of course, its acceleration will be tiny—about a thousandth of a g. That doesn’t seem much, but let’s see what it means.

“It means that in the first second, we’ll move about a fifth of an inch. I suppose a healthy snail could do better than that. But after a minute, we’ve covered sixty feet, and will be doing just over a mile an hour. That’s not bad, for something driven by pure sunlight! After an hour, we’re forty miles from our starting point, and will be moving at eighty miles an hour. Please remember that in space there’s no friction; so once you start anything moving, it will keep going forever. You’ll be surprised when I tell you what our thousandth-of-a-g sailboat will be doing at the end of a day’s run: almost two thousand miles an hour! If it starts from orbit—as it has to, of course—it can reach escape velocity in a couple of days. And all without burning a single drop of fuel!”

Well, he’d convinced them, and in the end he’d even convinced Cosmodyne. Over the last twenty years, a new sport had come into being. It had been called the sport of billionaires, and that was true. But it was beginning to pay for itself in terms of publicity and TV coverage. The prestige of four continents and two worlds was riding on this race, and it had the biggest audience in history.

Diana had made a good start; time to take a look at the opposition. Moving very gently—though there were shock absorbers between the control capsule and the delicate rigging, he was determined to run no risks—Merton stationed himself at the periscope.

There they were, looking like strange silver flowers planted in the dark fields of space. The nearest, South America’s Santa Maria, was only fifty miles away; it bore a close resemblance to a boy’s kite, but a kite more than a mile on a side. Farther away, the University of Astrograd’s Lebedev looked like a Maltese cross; the sails that formed the four arms could apparently be tilted for steering purposes. In contrast, the Federation of Australasia’s Woomera was a simple parachute, four miles in circumference. General Spacecraft’s Arachne, as its name suggested, looked like a spiderweb, and had been built on the same principles, by robot shuttles spiraling out from a central point. Eurospace Corporation’s Gossamer was an identical design, on a slightly smaller scale. And the Republic of Mars’s Sunbeam was a flat ring, with a half-mile-wide hole in the center, spinning slowly, so that centrifugal force gave it stiffness. That was an old idea, but no one had ever made it work; and Merton was fairly sure that the colonials would be in trouble when they started to turn.

That would not be for another six hours, when the yachts had moved along the first quarter of their slow and stately twenty-four-hour orbit. Here at the beginning of the race, they were all heading directly away from the Sun—running, as it were, before the solar wind. One had to make the most of this lap, before the boats swung around to the other side of Earth and then started to head back into the Sun.

Time, Merton told himself, for the first check, while he had no navigational worries. With the periscope, he made a careful examination of the sail, concentrating on the points where the rigging was attached to it. The shroud lines—narrow bands of unsilvered plastic film—would have been completely invisible had they not been coated with fluorescent paint. Now they were taut lines of colored light, dwindling away for hundreds of yards toward that gigantic sail. Each had its own electric windlass, not much bigger than a game fisherman’s reel. The little windlasses were continually turning, playing lines in or out as the autopilot kept the sail trimmed at the correct angle to the Sun.

The play of sunlight on the great flexible mirror was beautiful to watch. The sail was undulating in slow, stately oscillations, sending multiple images of the Sun marching across it, until they faded away at its edges. Such leisurely vibrations were to be expected in this vast and flimsy structure. They were usually quite harmless, but Merton watched them carefully. Sometimes they could build up to the catastrophic undulations known as the “wriggles,” which could tear a sail to pieces.

When he was satisfied that everything was shipshape, he swept the periscope around the sky, rechecking the positions of his rivals. It was as he had hoped: the weeding-out process had begun as the less efficient boats fell astern. But the real test would come when they passed into the shadow of Earth. Then, maneuverability would count as much as speed.

It seemed a strange thing to do, what with the race having just started, but he thought it might be a good idea to get some sleep. The two-man crews on the other boats could take it in turns, but Merton had no one to relieve him. He must rely on his own physical resources, like that other solitary seaman, Joshua Slocum, in his tiny Spray. The American skipper had sailed Spray single-handed around the world; he could never have dreamed that, two centuries later, a man would be sailing single-handed from Earth to Moon—inspired, at least partly, by his example.

Merton snapped the elastic bands of the cabin seat around his waist and legs, then placed the electrodes of the sleep inducer on his forehead. He set the timer for three hours and relaxed. Very gently, hypnotically, the electronic pulses throbbed in the frontal lobes of his brain. Colored spirals of light expanded beneath his closed eyelids, widening outward to infinity. Then nothing . . .

The brazen clamor of the alarm dragged him back from his dreamless sleep. He was instantly awake, his eyes scanning the instrument panel. Only two hours had passed—but above the accelerometer, a red light was flashing. Thrust was falling; Diana was losing power.

Merton’s first thought was that something had happened to the sail; perhaps the anti-spin devices had failed, and the rigging had become twisted. Swiftly, he checked the meters that showed the tension of the shroud lines. Strange—on one side of the sail they were reading normally, but on the other the pull was dropping slowly, even as he watched.

In sudden understanding, Merton grabbed the periscope, switched to wide-angle vision, and started to scan the edge of the sail. Yes—there was the trouble, and it could have only one cause.

A huge, sharp-edged shadow had begun to slide across the gleaming silver of the sail. Darkness was falling upon Diana, as if a cloud had passed between her and the Sun. And in the dark, robbed of the rays that drove her, she would lose all thrust and drift helplessly through space.

But, of course, there were no clouds here, more than twenty thousand miles above the Earth. If there was a shadow, it must be made by man.

Merton grinned as he swung the periscope toward the Sun, switching in the filters that would allow him to look full into its blazing face without being blinded.

“Maneuver 4a,” he muttered to himself. “We’ll see who can play best at that game.”

It looked as if a giant planet was crossing the face of the Sun; a great black disc had bitten deep into its edge. Twenty miles astern, Gossamer was trying to arrange an artificial eclipse, specially for Diana’s benefit.

The maneuver was a perfectly legitimate one. Back in the days of ocean racing, skippers had often tried to rob each other of the wind. With any luck, you could leave your rival becalmed, with his sails collapsing around him—and be well ahead before he could undo the damage.

Merton had no intention of being caught so easily. There was plenty of time to take evasive action; things happened very slowly when you were running a solar sailboat. It would be at least twenty minutes before Gossamer could slide completely across the face of the Sun and leave him in darkness.

Diana’s tiny computer—the size of a matchbox, but the equivalent of a thousand human mathematicians—considered the problem for a full second and then flashed the answer. He’d have to open control panels three and four, until the sail had developed an extra twenty degrees of tilt; then the radiation pressure would blow him out of Gossamer’s dangerous shadow, back into the full blast of the Sun. It was a pity to interfere with the autopilot, which had been carefully programmed to give the fastest possible run—but that, after all, was why he was here. This was what made solar yachting a sport, rather than a battle between computers.

Out went control lines one and six, slowly undulating like sleepy snakes as they momentarily lost their tension. Two miles away, the triangular panels began to open lazily, spilling sunlight through the sail. Yet, for a long time, nothing seemed to happen. It was hard to grow accustomed to this slow-motion world, where it took minutes for the effects of any action to become visible to the eye. Then Merton saw that the sail was indeed tipping toward the Sun—and that Gossamer’s shadow was sliding harmlessly away, its cone of darkness lost in the deeper night of space.

Long before the shadow had vanished, and the disc of the Sun had cleared again, he reversed the tilt and brought Diana back on course. Her new momentum would carry her clear of the danger; no need to overdo it, and upset his calculations by sidestepping too far. That was another rule that was hard to learn: the very moment you had started something happening in space, it was already time to think about stopping it.

He reset the alarm, ready for the next natural or man-made emergency. Perhaps Gossamer, or one of the other contestants, would try the same trick again. Meanwhile, it was time to eat, though he did not feel particularly hungry. One used little physical energy in space, and it was easy to forget about food. Easy—and dangerous; for when an emergency arose, you might not have the reserves needed to deal with it.

He broke open the first of the meal packets, and inspected it without enthusiasm. The name on the label—SPACETASTIES—was enough to put him off. And he had grave doubts about the promise printed underneath: “Guaranteed crumbless.” It had been said that crumbs were a greater danger to space vehicles than meteorites; they could drift into the most unlikely places, causing short circuits, blocking vital jets, and getting into instruments that were supposed to be hermetically sealed.

Still, the liverwurst went down pleasantly enough; so did the chocolate and the pineapple puree. The plastic coffee bulb was warming on the electric heater when the outside world broke in upon his solitude, as the radio operator on the Commodore’s launch routed a call to him.

“Dr. Merton? If you can spare the time, Jeremy Blair would like a few words with you.” Blair was one of the more responsible news commentators, and Merton had been on his program many times. He could refuse to be interviewed, of course, but he liked Blair, and at the moment he could certainly not claim to be too busy. “I’ll take it,” he answered.

“Hello, Dr. Merton,” said the commentator immediately. “Glad you can spare a few minutes. And congratulations—you seem to be ahead of the field.”

“Too early in the game to be sure of that,” Merton answered cautiously.

“Tell me, Doctor, why did you decide to sail Diana by yourself? Just because it’s never been done before?”

“Well, isn’t that a good reason? But it wasn’t the only one, of course.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You know how critically the performance of a sun yacht depends on its mass. A second man, with all his supplies, would mean another five hundred pounds. That could easily be the difference between winning and losing.”

“And you’re quite certain that you can handle Diana alone?”

“Reasonably sure, thanks to the automatic controls I’ve designed. My main job is to supervise and make decisions.”

“But—two square miles of sail! It just doesn’t seem possible for one man to cope with all that.”

Merton laughed. “Why not? Those two square miles produce a maximum pull of just ten pounds. I can exert more force with my little finger.”

“Well, thank you, Doctor. And good luck. I’ll be calling you again.”

As the commentator signed off, Merton felt a little ashamed of himself. For his answer had been only part of the truth; and he was sure that Blair was shrewd enough to know it.

There was just one reason why he was here, alone in space. For almost forty years he had worked with teams of hundreds or even thousands of men, helping to design the most complex vehicles that the world had ever seen. For the last twenty years he had led one of those teams, and watched his creations go soaring to the stars. (Sometimes . . . There were failures, which he could never forget, even though the fault had not been his.) He was famous, with a successful career behind him. Yet he had never done anything by himself; always he had been one of an army.

This was his last chance to try for individual achievement, and he would share it with no one. There would be no more solar yachting for at least five years, as the period of the Quiet Sun ended and the cycle of bad weather began, with radiation storms bursting through the solar system. When it was safe again for these frail, unshielded craft to venture aloft, he would be too old. If, indeed, he was not too old already . . .

He dropped the empty food containers into the waste disposal and turned once more to the periscope. At first he could find only five of the other yachts; there was no sign of Woomera. It took him several minutes to locate her—a dim, star-eclipsing phantom, neatly caught in the shadow of Lebedev. He could imagine the frantic efforts the Australasians were making to extricate themselves, and wondered how they had fallen into the trap. It suggested that Lebedev was unusually maneuverable. She would bear watching, though she was too far away to menace Diana at the moment.

Now the Earth had almost vanished; it had waned to a narrow, brilliant bow of light that was moving steadily toward the Sun. Dimly outlined within that burning bow was the night side of the planet, with the phosphorescent gleams of great cities showing here and there through gaps in the clouds. The disc of darkness had already blanked out a huge section of the Milky Way. In a few minutes, it would start to encroach upon the Sun.

The light was fading; a purple, twilight hue—the glow of many sunsets, thousands of miles below—was falling across the sail as Diana slipped silently into the shadow of Earth. The Sun plummeted below that invisible horizon; within minutes, it was night.

Merton looked back along the orbit he had traced, now a quarter of the way around the world. One by one he saw the brilliant stars of the other yachts wink out, as they joined him in the brief night. It would be an hour before the Sun emerged from that enormous black shield, and through all that time they would be completely helpless, coasting without power.

He switched on the external spotlight, and started to search the now-darkened sail with its beam. Already the thousands of acres of film were beginning to wrinkle and become flaccid. The shroud lines were slackening, and must be wound in lest they become entangled. But all this was expected; everything was going as planned.

Fifty miles astern, Arachne and Santa Maria were not so lucky. Merton learned of their troubles when the radio burst into life on the emergency circuit.

“Number Two and Number Six, this is Control. You are on a collision course; your orbits will intersect in sixty-five minutes! Do you require assistance?”

There was a long pause while the two skippers digested this bad news. Merton wondered who was to blame. Perhaps one yacht had been trying to shadow the other, and had not completed the maneuver before they were both caught in darkness. Now there was nothing that either could do. They were slowly but inexorably converging, unable to change course by a fraction of a degree.

Yet—sixty-five minutes! That would just bring them out into sunlight again, as they emerged from the shadow of the Earth. They had a slim chance, if their sails could snatch enough power to avoid a crash. There must be some frantic calculations going on aboard Arachne and Santa Maria.

Arachne answered first. Her reply was just what Merton had expected.

“Number Six calling Control. We don’t need assistance, thank you. We’ll work this out for ourselves.”

I wonder, thought Merton; but at least it will be interesting to watch. The first real drama of the race was approaching, exactly above the line of midnight on the sleeping Earth.

For the next hour, Merton’s own sail kept him too busy to worry about Arachne and Santa Maria. It was hard to keep a good watch on those fifty million square feet of dim plastic out there in the darkness, illuminated only by his narrow spotlight and the rays of the still-distant Moon. From now on, for almost half his orbit around the Earth, he must keep the whole of this immense area edge-on to the Sun. During the next twelve or fourteen hours, the sail would be a useless encumbrance; for he would be heading into the Sun, and its rays could only drive him backward along his orbit. It was a pity that he could not furl the sail completely, until he was ready to use it again; but no one had yet found a practical way of doing this.

Far below, there was the first hint of dawn along the edge of the Earth. In ten minutes the Sun would emerge from its eclipse. The coasting yachts would come to life again as the blast of radiation struck their sails. That would be the moment of crisis for Arachne and Santa Maria—and, indeed, for all of them.

Merton swung the periscope until he found the two dark shadows drifting against the stars. They were very close together—perhaps less than three miles apart. They might, he decided, just be able to make it . . .

Dawn flashed like an explosion along the rim of Earth as the Sun rose out of the Pacific. The sail and shroud lines glowed a brief crimson, then gold, then blazed with the pure white light of day. The needles of the dynamometers began to lift from their zeros—but only just. Diana was still almost completely weightless, for with the sail pointing toward the Sun, her acceleration was now only a few millionths of a gravity.

But Arachne and Santa Maria were crowding on all the sail that they could manage, in their desperate attempt to keep apart. Now, while there was less than two miles between them, their glittering plastic clouds were unfurling and expanding with agonizing slowness as they felt the first delicate push of the Sun’s rays. Almost every TV screen on Earth would be mirroring this protracted drama; and even now, at this last minute, it was possible to tell what the outcome would be.

The two skippers were stubborn men. Either could have cut his sail and fallen back to give the other a chance, but neither would do so. Too much prestige, too many millions, too many reputations were at stake. And so, silently and softly as snowflakes falling on a winter night, Arachne and Santa Maria collided.

The square kite crawled almost imperceptibly into the circular spiderweb. The long ribbons of the shroud lines twisted and tangled together with dreamlike slowness. Even aboard Diana, Merton, busy with his own rigging, could scarcely tear his eyes away from this silent, long-drawn-out disaster.

For more than ten minutes the billowing, shining clouds continued to merge into one inextricable mass. Then the crew capsules tore loose and went their separate ways, missing each other by hundreds of yards. With a flare of rockets, the safety launches hurried to pick them up.

That leaves five of us, thought Merton. He felt sorry for the skippers who had so thoroughly eliminated each other, only a few hours after the start of the race, but they were young men and would have another chance.

Within minutes, the five had dropped to four. From the beginning, Merton had had doubts about the slowly rotating Sunbeam; now he saw them justified.

The Martian ship had failed to tack properly. Her spin had given her too much stability. Her great ring of a sail was turning to face the Sun, instead of being edge-on to it. She was being blown back along her course at almost her maximum acceleration.

That was about the most maddening thing that could happen to a skipper—even worse than a collision, for he could blame only himself. But no one would feel much sympathy for the frustrated colonials, as they dwindled slowly astern. They had made too many brash boasts before the race, and what had happened to them was poetic justice.

Yet it would not do to write off Sunbeam completely; with almost half a million miles still to go, she might yet pull ahead. Indeed, if there were a few more casualties, she might be the only one to complete the race. It had happened before.

The next twelve hours were uneventful, as the Earth waxed in the sky from new to full. There was little to do while the fleet drifted around the unpowered half of its orbit, but Merton did not find the time hanging heavily on his hands. He caught a few hours of sleep, ate two meals, wrote his log, and became involved in several more radio interviews. Sometimes, though rarely, he talked to the other skippers, exchanging greetings and friendly taunts. But most of the time he was content to float in weightless relaxation, beyond all the cares of Earth, happier than he had been for many years. He was—as far as any man could be in space—master of his own fate, sailing the ship upon which he had lavished so much skill, so much love, that it had become part of his very being.

The next casualty came when they were passing the line between Earth and Sun, and were just beginning the powered half of the orbit. Aboard Diana, Merton saw the great sail stiffen as it tilted to catch the rays that drove it. The acceleration began to climb up from the microgravities, though it would be hours yet before it would reach its maximum value.

It would never reach it for Gossamer. The moment when power came on again was always critical, and she failed to survive it.

Blair’s radio commentary, which Merton had left running at low volume, alerted him with the news: “Hello, Gossamer has the wriggles!” He hurried to the periscope, but at first could see nothing wrong with the great circular disc of Gossamer’s sail. It was difficult to study it because it was almost edge-on to him and so appeared as a thin ellipse; but presently he saw that it was twisting back and forth in slow, irresistible oscillations. Unless the crew could damp out these waves, by properly timed but gentle tugs on the shroud lines, the sail would tear itself to pieces.

They did their best, and after twenty minutes it seemed that they had succeeded. Then, somewhere near the center of the sail, the plastic film began to rip. It was slowly driven outward by the radiation pressure, like smoke coiling upward from a fire. Within a quarter of an hour, nothing was left but the delicate tracery of the radial spars that had supported the great web. Once again there was a flare of rockets, as a launch moved in to retrieve the Gossamer’s capsule and her dejected crew.

“Getting rather lonely up here, isn’t it?” said a conversational voice over the ship-to-ship radio.

“Not for you, Dimitri,” retorted Merton. “You’ve still got company back there at the end of the field. I’m the one who’s lonely, up here in front.” It was not an idle boast; by this time Diana was three hundred miles ahead of the next competitor, and her lead should increase still more rapidly in the hours to come.

Aboard Lebedev, Dimitri Markoff gave a good-natured chuckle. He did not sound, Merton thought, at all like a man who had resigned himself to defeat.

“Remember the legend of the tortoise and the hare,” answered the Russian. “A lot can happen in the next quarter-million miles.”

It happened much sooner than that, when they had completed their first orbit of Earth and were passing the starting line again—though thousands of miles higher, thanks to the extra energy the Sun’s rays had given them. Merton had taken careful sights on the other yachts and had fed the figures into the computer. The answer it gave for Woomera was so absurd that he immediately did a recheck.

There was no doubt of it—the Australasians were catching up at a completely fantastic rate. No solar yacht could possibly have such an acceleration, unless . . .

A swift look through the periscope gave the answer. Woomera’s rigging, pared back to the very minimum of mass, had given way. It was her sail alone, still maintaining its shape, that was racing up behind him like a handkerchief blown before the wind. Two hours later it fluttered past, less than twenty miles away; but long before that, the Australasians had joined the growing crowd aboard the Commodore’s launch.

So now it was a straight fight between Diana and Lebedev—for though the Martians had not given up, they were a thousand miles astern and no longer counted as a serious threat. For that matter, it was hard to see what Lebedev could do to overtake Diana’s lead; but all the way around the second lap, through eclipse again and the long, slow drift against the Sun, Merton felt a growing unease.

He knew the Russian pilots and designers. They had been trying to win this race for twenty years—and, after all, it was only fair that they should, for had not Pyotr Nikolaevich Lebedev been the first man to detect the pressure of sunlight, back to the very beginning of the twentieth century? But they had never succeeded.

And they would never stop trying. Dimitri was up to something—and it would be spectacular.

* * *

Aboard the official launch, a thousand miles behind the racing yachts, Commodore van Stratten looked at the radiogram with angry dismay. It had traveled more than a hundred million miles, from the chain of solar observatories swinging high above the blazing surface of the Sun, and it brought the worst possible news.

The Commodore—his title was purely honorary, of course; back on Earth he was Professor of Astrophysics at Harvard—had been half-expecting it. Never before had the race been arranged so late in the season. There had been many delays; they had gambled—and now, it seemed, they might all lose.

Deep beneath the surface of the Sun, enormous forces were gathering. At any moment the energies of a million hydrogen bombs might burst forth in the awesome explosion known as a solar flare. Climbing at millions of miles an hour, an invisible fireball many times the size of Earth would leap from the Sun and head out across space.

The cloud of electrified gas would probably miss the Earth completely. But if it did not, it would arrive in just over a day. Spaceships could protect themselves, with their shielding and their powerful magnetic screens; but the lightly built solar yachts, with their paper-thin walls, were defenseless against such a menace. The crews would have to be taken off, and the race abandoned.

John Merton knew nothing of this as he brought Diana around the Earth for the second time. If all went well, this would be the last circuit, both for him and for the Russians. They had spiraled upward by thousands of miles, gaining energy from the Sun’s rays. On this lap, they should escape from the Earth completely, and head outward on the long run to the Moon. It was a straight race now; Sunbeam’s crew had finally withdrawn exhausted, after battling valiantly with their spinning sail for more than a hundred thousand miles.

Merton did not feel tired; he had eaten and slept well, and Diana was behaving herself admirably. The autopilot, tensioning the rigging like a busy little spider, kept the great sail trimmed to the Sun more accurately than any human skipper could have. Though by this time the two square miles of plastic sheet must have been riddled by hundreds of micrometeorites, the pinhead-sized punctures had produced no falling off of thrust.

He had only two worries. The first was shroud line number eight, which could no longer be adjusted properly. Without any warning, the reel had jammed; even after all these years of astronautical engineering, bearings sometimes seized up in vacuum. He could neither lengthen nor shorten the line, and would have to navigate as best he could with the others. Luckily, the most difficult maneuvers were over; from now on, Diana would have the Sun behind her as she sailed straight down the solar wind. And as the old-time sailors had often said, it was easy to handle a boat when the wind was blowing over your shoulder.

His other worry was Lebedev, still dogging his heels three hundred miles astern. The Russian yacht had shown remarkable maneuverability, thanks to the four great panels that could be tilted around the central sail. Her flipovers as she rounded the Earth had been carried out with superb precision. But to gain maneuverability she must have sacrificed speed. You could not have it both ways; in the long, straight haul ahead, Merton should be able to hold his own. Yet he could not be certain of victory until, three or four days from now, Diana went flashing past the far side of the Moon.

And then, in the fiftieth hour of the race, just after the end of the second orbit around Earth, Markoff sprang his little surprise.

“Hello, John,” he said casually over the ship-to-ship circuit. “I’d like you to watch this. It should be interesting.”

Merton drew himself across to the periscope and turned up the magnification to the limit. There in the field of view, a most improbable sight against the background of the stars, was the glittering Maltese cross of Lebedev, very small but very clear. As he watched, the four arms of the cross slowly detached themselves from the central square, and went drifting away, with all their spars and rigging, into space.

Markoff had jettisoned all unnecessary mass, now that he was coming up to escape velocity and need no longer plod patiently around the Earth, gaining momentum on each circuit. From now on, Lebedev would be almost unsteerable—but that did not matter; all the tricky navigation lay behind her. It was as if an old-time yachtsman had deliberately thrown away his rudder and heavy keel, knowing that the rest of the race would be straight downwind over a calm sea.

“Congratulations, Dimitri,” Merton radioed. “It’s a neat trick. But it’s not good enough. You can’t catch up with me now.”

“I’ve not finished yet,” the Russian answered. “There’s an old winter’s tale in my country about a sleigh being chased by wolves. To save himself, the driver has to throw off the passengers one by one. Do you see the analogy?”

Merton did, all too well. On this final straight lap, Dimitri no longer needed his copilot. Lebedev could really be stripped down for action.

“Alexis won’t be very happy about this,” Merton replied. “Besides, it’s against the rules.”

“Alexis isn’t happy, but I’m the captain. He’ll just have to wait around for ten minutes until the Commodore picks him up. And the regulations say nothing about the size of the crew—you should know that.”

Merton did not answer; he was too busy doing some hurried calculations, based on what he knew of Lebedev’s design. By the time he had finished, he knew that the race was still in doubt. Lebedev would be catching up with him at just about the time he hoped to pass the Moon.

But the outcome of the race was already being decided, ninety-two million miles away.

* * *

On Solar Observatory Three, far inside the orbit of Mercury, the automatic instruments recorded the whole history of the flare. A hundred million square miles of the Sun’s surface exploded in such blue-white fury that, by comparison, the rest of the disc paled to a dull glow. Out of that seething inferno, twisting and turning like a living creature in the magnetic fields of its own creation, soared the electrified plasma of the great flare. Ahead of it, moving at the speed of light, went the warning flash of ultraviolet and X rays. That would reach Earth in eight minutes and was relatively harmless. Not so the charged atoms that were following behind at their leisurely four million miles an hour—and which, in just over a day, would engulf Diana, Lebedev, and their accompanying little fleet in a cloud of lethal radiation.

The Commodore left his decision to the last possible minute. Even when the jet of plasma had been tracked past the orbit of Venus, there was a chance that it might miss the Earth. But when it was less than four hours away, and had already been picked up by the Moon-based radar network, he knew that there was no hope. All solar sailing was over, for the next five or six years—until the Sun was quiet again.

A great sigh of disappointment swept across the solar system. Diana and Lebedev were halfway between Earth and Moon, running neck and neck—and now no one would ever know which was the better boat. The enthusiasts would argue the result for years; history would merely record: “Race canceled owing to solar storm.”

When John Merton received the order, he felt a bitterness he had not known since childhood. Across the years, sharp and clear, came the memory of his tenth birthday. He had been promised an exact scale model of the famous spaceship Morning Star, and for weeks had been planning how he would assemble it, where he would hang it in his bedroom. And then, at the last moment, his father had broken the news. “I’m sorry, John—it cost too much money. Maybe next year . . .”

Half a century and a successful lifetime later, he was a heartbroken boy again.

For a moment, he thought of disobeying the Commodore. Suppose he sailed on, ignoring the warning? Even if the race was abandoned, he could make crossing to the Moon that would stand in the record books for generations.

But that would be worse than stupidity; it would be suicide—and a very unpleasant form of suicide. He had seen men die of radiation poisoning, when the magnetic shielding of their ships had failed in deep space. No—nothing was worth that . . .

He felt as sorry for Dimitri Markoff as for himself. They had both deserved to win, and now victory would go to neither. No man could argue with the Sun in one of its rages, even though he might ride upon its beams to the edge of space.

Only fifty miles astern now, the Commodore’s launch was drawing alongside Lebedev, preparing to take off her skipper. There went the silver sail, as Dimitri—with feelings that he would share—cut the rigging. The tiny capsule would be taken back to Earth, perhaps to be used again; but a sail was spread for one voyage only.

Merton could press the jettison button now, and save his rescuers a few minutes of time. But he could not do it; he wanted to stay aboard to the very end, on the little boat that had been for so long a part of his dreams and his life. The great sail was spread now at right angles to the Sun, exerting its utmost thrust. Long ago, it had torn him clear of Earth, and Diana was still gaining speed.

Then, out of nowhere, beyond all doubt or hesitation, he knew what must be done. For the last time, he sat down before the computer that had navigated him halfway to the Moon.

When he had finished, he packed the log and his few personal belongings. Clumsily, for he was out of practice, and it was not an easy job to do by oneself, he climbed into the emergency survival suit. He was just sealing the helmet when the Commodore’s voice called over the radio.

“We’ll be alongside in five minutes, Captain. Please cut your sail, so we won’t foul it.”

John Merton, first and last skipper of the sun yacht Diana, hesitated a moment. He looked for the last time around the tiny cabin, with its shining instruments and its neatly arranged controls, now all locked in their final positions. Then he said into the microphone: “I’m abandoning ship. Take your time to pick me up. Diana can look after herself.”

There was no reply from the Commodore, and for that he was grateful. Professor van Stratten would have guessed what was happening—and would know that, in these final moments, he wished to be left alone.

He did not bother to exhaust the air lock, and the rush of escaping gas blew him gently out into space. The thrust he gave her then was his last gift to Diana. She dwindled away from him, sail glittering splendidly in the sunlight that would be hers for centuries to come. Two days from now she would flash past the Moon; but the Moon, like the Earth, could never catch her. Without his mass to slow her down, she would gain two thousand miles an hour in every day of sailing. In a month, she would be traveling faster than any ship that man had ever built.

As the Sun’s rays weakened with distance, so her acceleration would fall. But even at the orbit of Mars, she would be gaining a thousand miles an hour in every day. Long before then, she would be moving too swiftly for the Sun itself to hold her. Faster than a comet had ever streaked in from the stars, she would be heading out into the abyss.

The glare of rockets, only a few miles away, caught Merton’s eye. The launch was approaching to pick him up—at thousands of times the acceleration that Diana could ever attain. But its engines could burn for a few minutes only, before they exhausted their fuel—while Diana would still be gaining speed, driven outward by the Sun’s eternal fires, for ages yet to come.

“Good-bye, little ship,” said John Merton. “I wonder what eyes will see you next, how many thousand years from now?”

At last he felt at peace, as the blunt torpedo of the launch nosed up beside him. He would never win the race to the Moon; but his would be the first of all man’s ships to set sail on the long journey to the stars.

It’s interesting times that we all are living in

Crazy times. Check out today’s installment.

European Stainless Steel Mills Are Closing Due To Energy Crisis

Ya don’t say!

Stainless steel prices continue to struggle as we approach the final quarter of the year. Meanwhile, nickel prices float just above their 2021 average, closing August at $21,320 / mt. Both indices seem to indicate an overly-cautious marketplace, with buyers and sellers seemingly waiting to see what the other will do.

This sort of “commodity” standoff is less than ideal. MetalMiner has recommended that buyers of flat-rolled stainless expect lower transaction prices as we move into autumn. After all, alloy surcharges are low, and competition between service centers is higher. In fact, many U.S. flat-rolled mills have no customers on allocation, thanks to imports affecting overall supply.

Still, the battle between supply and demand is a never-ending one. And in a tight market full of people looking to maximize their dollar, anything can happen.

Stainless Steel Mills Shut Down Across Europe

What would happen if the stainless steel market suddenly lost millions of tons of production? We won’t have to wait long to find out the answer because it’s already happening. As August ended, more and more reports came in detailing European stainless steel producers having to scale back or shut down production altogether.

Of course, Europe faces a catastrophic energy crisis. While many economists remain focused on the coming winter, Putin’s retaliatory gas cutoff has done plenty of damage already. So far, around three million tons of Europe’s stainless steel capacity is at risk. With energy costs surging, many plants simply can’t afford to “keep the lights on,” so to speak.

Earlier in August, the Belgian Aperam Mill shut down its mill in Genk. Soon after, they reduced production at their Chatelet Mill. More recently, Spanish company Acrinox announced it would cut production and place around 85% of its employees on short-time work. Obviously, all eyes are now on other major European producers, many of whom have just as much incentive to cut and run.

Article HERE

Some real talk about GDP

Listen up!

GDP comes from many sources. However, GDP derived from wall streets' speculative activities on real estate, currency, and / or stocks does not represent the entire nation. It only represents who benefits from those ventures. Which is the obvious profit venues; only a handful of billionaires and millionaires.

So, GDP (in and by itself) is meaningless. 

This is why Xi Peng (China) focuses on something different from the West. China focuses on quality and sustainable growth.

[1] Xi regards clear water and green mountains (绿水青山) as wealth
[2] In Chinese, this means "gold mountain and silver mountain" (金山银山) [3] Thus, a nation that is full of resources, and an excellent living environment is regarded as an ideal that nations should aspire toward.

That is driver behind the massive R&D, development, production, and roll out of green technology, EV vehicles, public transport, greening of deserts that have all become a major part of the Chinese economy.

Think about it.

This is why China controls the cost of living on basic necessities such as electricity, water, internet access, food, housing. 

While the outcome is low overall wages as a whole, the fact is that Chinese factory workers are better off than their equivalent in the West.

Cheers

On Comment Moderation

This is from MoA. -MM

In April this year a new commentator appeared on this blog under the name of ‘ostro’. Some of his comments were reasonable, some were a boring one-liners. There were many of them. Overall he did not bother me or others and time will always sift out commentators who do not fit the Moon of Alabama community.

At the end of July I noticed by chance that ‘ostro’ was not as harmless as he seemed. He had started to post under two names, ‘ostro’ and ‘ppp’. The comments did not relate to each other but came just minutes apart from the very same Internet Protocol (IP) addresses. That does not happen by chance. Again – the comments in themselves were not that unreasonable though at times a bit too aggressive.

Here it how that looked on the comment management screen of the software this blog is running on:

 

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bigger

A complication in finding out what was happening was the fact that ‘ostro’ was using a proxy network. The IP-addresses where his comments were coming from were not his but from a larger proxy network provider which rents servers all over the world to disguise the locations of its users. Nothing new, nothing nefarious in itself, just something that requires a bit more work to police the comments here.

A person who uses several usernames to post comments here is a sockpuppeteer. He plays one character and another and another – all at the same time and often in concert to push the general tone of the comment section into a specific direction. This confuses other commentators. It disrupts threads. It is the opposite of being honest.

In consequence I banned ‘ostro’ and ‘ppp’, i.e. I blocked the IP addresses his comments were coming through. I did and do so with any sockpuppeteer who tries to comment on this blog under multiple names. The general Internet rule for this is simple. Choose one not yet used username and stick to it. Otherwise you will be banned.

After ‘ostro’ finally recognized that he was blocked from the comments he attempted to take revenge by really messing with this blog. Around August 7 he started to comment under a myriad of different usernames. The most prolific monikers ‘ostro’ used were ‘Gilbert’ ‘Maxx’ ‘rp’ ‘Steve’ etc. All were coming through the same large proxy network, i.e. from the same pool of IP addresses. Here is an example from one IP address.

 

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biggerMost of the comments under those thirty plus names were not even unreasonable. That is why it again took me some time to notice that something was wrong. At the end of August I finally started to systematically search for and block comments which had different name tags but came through the very same IP addresses. As ‘ostro’ is using a large proxy network with multiple IP addresses it took hours to block most of them. There were dozens and I am pretty sure there are still some I haven’t yet caught.

In response ‘ostro’ did something that was even more nefarious. He started to comment under the name of well known commentators here to attack other commentators. Some of the names and persons he abused in such ways were ‘Peter AU1’, ‘pretzelattack’ and ‘Helmuth von Moltke’.

The faked comments were not harmless but designed to disrupt the community by making it look as if some prominent members of this community were out to attack other prominent members.

I have since cleaned up that mess as good as I could by deleting the faked comments. The ‘ostro’ addresses where those were coming through were of course also blocked.

Those commentators who were affected by this should calm down. Your anger towards this or that other community member is unfounded as their names were probably or even likely abused to attack you.

This all could be prevented if I would demand that commentators somehow verify themselves and use some login process to comment here. The software this blog is running on allows for that. The Saker blog has recently switched to such a process after its comments section was overrun by shitposters.

I’ll try to avoid that. I like that this blog does not require user verification. It is important to me to leave the comment section as untouched as possible. Sure, I will continue to block haters and abusive language or other misbehavior whenever I see it. But it is not my task to police well formulated opinions.

‘Ostro’ is a person (or a group?) who seems to have a lot of time at his hand. He will continue to bother this blog and I will continue to fight against that. I have run Moon of Alabama for some eighteen years now and there have been dozens of abusers, some extremely tenacious, who have tried to disrupt it. I have so far beaten them all.

Other commentators, especially the longtime regulars, should be aware that this or that ‘attack’ on them may not be real. It is better to hold back than to start bar fights over stuff that was probably intentionally posted to incite you.

It is impossible for me to read and check every comment and to immediately react to abuses. If you see a problem with some comments or commentators please notify me by email. I will then handle the issue.

Thanks!

b.

Posted by b on September 4, 2022 at 10:25 UTC | Permalink

The United States ongoing provocation is only helping to push reunification

You don’t say!

China has warned the United States it will take "counter-measures" after the Biden administration approved more than $1.1 billion in arms sales to Taiwan.

Chinese embassy spokesman Liu Pengyu said Saturday China was "firmly opposed" to the sales, which "severely jeopardize China-US relations and peace and stability across the Taiwan Strait," and called on Washington to "immediately revoke" them.

Liu's comments on Twitter came after the Biden administration on Friday formally notified Congress of the proposed sales, which include up to 60 anti-ship missiles and up to 100 air-to-air missiles.

CNN article HERE

Joe and Jenny

A friend asked me to take her to a local animal rescue place to drop off some supplies we had bought them. She had been trying for ages to persuade me to get a cat for company. She insisted we walk through the cages of cats waiting for adoption. As we approached one particular cage a black and white cat started jumping up and down against the wire trying to attract attention. The woman who ran the shelter said his name was Joe and he was only 9 months old, and that his twin sister Jenny was also in the cage, hiding in the sleeping area too scared to come out. I talked to Joe for a minute then he walked back into the sleeping area and we could see him nudging Jenny, trying to get her to come out and meet us too. Jenny eventually moved closer to the door of the sleeping area but wouldn’t come any further. She looked terrified and very unhappy. My heart melted and so I welcomed Joe and Jenny into my life. That was in 2008 and they are still with me and I love them both.

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More thoughts on GDP

GDP has nothing to do with value.
.
An F-35 does not have as much value as a bullet train.
.
Consider value to society. What has more value? Building a prison vs. a hospital. Or, perhaps, collecting rent vs. building new homes. Consider Service jobs vs. manufacturing jobs.
.

About 20 years ago, my wife’s son was being bullied at school. My wife told him to talk to a teacher or the school’s ‘Dean of Students’ (because being a high school Vice Principal was not a big enough sounding title, I guess) – this moron did NOTHING! Her son, finally called me, directly. At this moment, I had served in the Marines & I was a federal agent. I told her son to go to his favorite teacher – & DOCUMENT in his notebook, the teacher’s name & all of the details. The few days later, called me again, to tell me nothing happened & the bully again hit him. Again, I told him to go directly to the ‘Dean of Students’ & to do the exact same thing – DOCUMENT all of the details, as well as the results of talking to the Dean of Students.

2 days later, my wife’s son called me early on Thursday morning, about 9 am, from the school’s pay phone – collect to my office. He told me that the bully hit him & split his lip. I asked what happened with the Dean of Students, & apparently the Dean told the bully that was a report of him bullying- NOTHING else happened to him! NOW, the Marine in me took control of my reaction – I told my wife’s son, as soon as the bully touches him again, kick him in the balls & start punching until the bully isn’t moving or someone pulls him off the bully. I also told him that I was leaving work immediately on my way.

My wife decided it would a good idea for her to join me on the way to the school – she knew that I was going to defend her son with everything I feel needed. Before we got to the school, the Dean of Students called my cell phone to tell us that my wife’s son was suspended from school for fighting. I told the Dean that I was on my way & he had better be there, with my son (yes, my wife’s son, but I always treat him as my own son & always will). I got to the school & my wife’s son was sitting in the office waiting room – the bully was also in the waiting room, nursing a bleeding nose & fat lip. I walked up to my wife’s son & told him give me the notebook & come with me. Without asking for the Dean, I walked into his office & threw the notebook on his desk. Before he could say a word, I told him to read OUT LOUD, EXACTLY WHAT IS WRITTEN ON THE NOTEBOOK.

The Dean tried to excuse the notebook & tried to give me the ‘School standard of no tolerance’. At this point, I told him that I didn’t give a “F’’ about their standard, because my standard is that if someone puts my family in danger, I WILL USE ALL OF MY RESOURCES & TRAINING TO PROTECT MY FAMILY. At this point, he called for security, the fact that I’m a large man – 6′3′’, 240 lbs added to the Dean’s fear of me, also that my badge was showing. I explained to the Dean that whether or not he or anyone else likes it, humans ARE ANIMALS – meaning that some things are NATURAL ENGRAINED INSTINCTS, just with any other animal – & we also have the instinct of flight or fight. My (wife’s) son did the right thing throughout the bullying & the school, the teacher, HE & the SYSTEM were putting MY SON IN DANGER by their lack of enforcing their OWN RULES! I also, in front of the school safety officer, explained that IF he didn’t understand that my son was correct in his actions, I was going to show him EXACTLY how that works – that I was going to start assaulting him to see if he can take a beating without trying to defend himself. The funniest part of it was that the officer started laughing, because he knew I was correct & my son was.

In the end, my son was NOT suspended – he did enjoy a 3 day weekend with me & my wife, rewarding him for doing exactly as he was told. He was excused by the school for the day without having to make up missed classes. I followed with going to the school district & having a LONG visit with them about it with my attorney. The Dean of Students was relieved of duties & in the end lost his job over this, as well as it came out that NOT ONE BULLY HAD BEEN REPRIMANDED FOR BULLYING during his tenure.

NOTHING pisses me off than the biggest ‘rules’ that allow others to do things to harm others. & it’s high time for parents to START GETTING INVOLVED!

Do you want to stop the violence, shootings at schools? GET YOUR ASS UP & INVOLVED! IF YOU are parent, YOU KNOW if your kid is bullied – or you should – & if you are the parent of a bully, GET INVOLVED! When rules are put in place & NOT enforced UNILATERALLY, it is when the bullied kids feel they can’t take anymore & they then become the aggressors in any means they can – VIOLENCE.

More steel mills are closing

Well. Duh!

The world’s second-largest steelmaker, ArcelorMittal, is the latest industrial company to announce a plant closure in Europe due to soaring gas and energy prices.

ArcelorMittal will shut one of its two blast furnaces at its steelworks site in Bremen, Germany, from the end of September until further notice, due to the “exorbitant rise in energy prices,” the company said in a statement on Friday.

Article HERE

I opened the link to view the image of the alleged evidence and can confirm that, as with the question, there are obvious problems of expression in it.

1, far right, top to bottom, fourth box.

1.1 Chinese people do not use “国语”, but “汉语” or “普通话”. “国语” is the customary language in Taiwan.

1.2 “本人” is used to address oneself and does not appear when addressing others.

2. Right-most, from top to bottom, second cell.

2.1 Chinese people do not use “该人”, but “此人”.

3. Rightmost, from top to bottom, fifth box.

3.1 “本人系80后不放心人员”, which is obviously not normal Chinese, but rather like a machine translation of the language.

There are also a bunch of other presentation problems, such as the use of “研判” instead of “经过分析”, “碰撞分析” and other strange words.

My analysis concludes that the content of the image was most likely machine-translated into Chinese, and that there are many obvious misrepresentations. It has also been manually corrected by Taiwanese, which is why there are so many words that are specific to Taiwan.

I am a native Chinese speaker.


I have found something very interesting

Are the Chinese leaked documents about Uyghurs authentic? Some claim they are written in a way Westerners would write.

I saw someone comment that I was wrong and that there is also a use of “国语Mandarin” in China.

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——-

The link provided in it opens with this

学国语促交流共发展 – 新疆维吾尔自治区质量技术监督局

h t t p s : / / w e b.a r c h i v e.o r g/web/20171008231624/http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/2017nzd/2017fhj/zjgzq/seventh/52325.htm

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I tried to open

http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/2017nzd/2017fhj/zjgzq/seventh/52325.htm

Failed, the link does not exist

but opening 学国语促交流共发展 – 新疆维吾尔自治区质量技术监督局

but it does open.

———–

As a 20 year old programmer, I clicked on it to view the source code and it showed.

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x

x
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Hahahahahaha, here’s the truth.

href=”/web/20171008231624im_/http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/assets/i/favicon.png”

This is a link to the picture, know web code friends know that this (href=”/web) beginning to say, this is a station address, why should use

/web/20171008231624im_/http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/assets/i/favicon.png

to provide an image address?

I then tried to open

http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/assets/i/favicon.png

It doesn’t open either.

But when I open

h t t p s :// w e b . archive.o r g/web/20171008231624im_/http://www.xjzj.gov.cn/assets/i/favicon.png

(I split the link to avoid direct conversion by quora, so remove the spaces if you want to open it)

it opened successfully.

—————–

It is obvious that the so-called “Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region Bureau of Quality and Technical Supervision新疆维吾尔自治区质量技术监督局” webpage is actually on the Wayback Machine website.

Digital Library of Free & Borrowable Books, Movies, Music & Wayback Machine

It is a storage platform for manually uploading web pages, videos and other data.

Therefore, the so-called “Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region Bureau of Quality and Technical Supervision” page is actually a manually uploaded page on the archive website.

It’s fake.

Basically, it can be ascertained that the page is a forged, modified “Mandarin” page.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Then search for the content “Recently, the villagers’ group and village committee of Ruoqi village in Minfeng County pointed out that a press conference had recently been held by the village team and village committee of Chasianbazar village in Ruoqueya township in Minfeng County” and find the press release that appears on the Sohu website (this is a general press release, which means that the propaganda department sends the same content to many websites).

乡镇动态|若克雅乡学国家通用语言文字促交流共发展

x
x

It says “learn the national language and script to learn the common national language and script学习国家语言和脚本学好国家通用语言文字”, not “国语”.

It is 100% certain that the page provided is a deliberate forgery

———–

I’m curious why someone was quick to provide a modified version of the page and answer questions when we pointed out that the use of “国语” was an obvious loophole?

That’s very interesting!

x
very interesting.

Issues worth thinking about:

Why the US GDP is bigger than China’s?
.
How is it actually possible? China is (by far) the largest trading partners with a vast majority of the world (more than 130 countries). Not so with the United States.
The South Korean government has identified (the American demand of) slowing trade with China as a major national risk.

Instead, they vowed to strengthen economic cooperation with their neighbor after the country logged its highest ever trade deficit in August.

South Korea’s overall deficit hit US$9.47 billion last month, according to the South Korean Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy, the highest figure since records began in 1956. 

It also marked four consecutive months of trade deficit with China, its biggest trading partner, following decades of surpluses.

Article HERE

The battle of Nagashino

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All right, before we begin, we need some background information.

It was right in the middle of the Sengoku period(戦国時代) a period of all out war that happened all over Japan, various warlords fighting each other over control of Japan. It wasn’t a good time to live really, if you were a peasant you could be conscripted into a army and forced to fight, and if you were a samurai you would be fighting.
Several decades before the battle, on a island called Tanegashima(種子島) a ship with some Portuguese people came there, and introduced the arabesque, something the Japanese had never seen before, although they have encountered gunpowder from the mongols.

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Anyway, the lord of the island bought several of them and ordered them to be manufactured. Pretty soon, it spread all over Japan.

It was a good weapon, anyone could be trained to use it, and it could kill or wound fully armored samurai with a shot. But it was inaccurate over long distances, took way longer than a bow to reload, and it was pretty costly to make, since metal isn’t the most common resource in Japan. Due to this, many questioned if this was a good weapon to use, so while guns were introduced, it didn’t play a significant role at first(I think).

But several Damiyo really liked these newfangled guns, especially this man named Oda Nobunaga, a warlord who liked all the new western stuff that was coming into Japan.

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He was quite successful and very ingenious.

Now, Oda and his allies were now in conflict with the mighty Takeda clan, renowned for it’s cavalry.
They met on a plain near the besieged Nagashino castle, and June 28, a mighty force of around 38,000 men on Oda’s side came. The Takeda clan spent 12,000 to face the enemy, leaving 3,000 to continue the siege.

Now Oda knew that Takeda cavalry was a force to be reckoned with, but he had a plan. He had thousands of arabesques position themselves behind a small stream that would slow down the horses and had a palisade erected. He also had his flank covered by his allies. He also developed a tactic no other damiyo had used. Since reloading was slow, he had the shooters line up in three’s, and ordered them to fire in volleys so that a continues barrage of balls could be fired.

x
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Meanwhile on the Takeda side, they were confident they would win. There had been rain, which Takeda assumed would render the guns useless, and the distance wasn’t that long, a few hundred meters at best. Also, their cavalry was the best in Japan, so how could they lose? They had defeated Oda and his allies in previous battles.

With these advantages, the Takeda cavalry charged. But they were wrong. One thing, the guns were still usable, and two, the enemy did not break ranks. The stream and the fortifications slowed the calvary charge and we’re fired upon continuously by the guns when they got close.

x
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The few Takeda samurai that made through were quickly killed by spears and swords. Again and again they charged but by midday, they turned and fled. They were pursed relentlessly, and the battle was lost after losing around 12,000 men while Oda forces suffered only 6,000 losses. The Takeda clan never recovered and eventually lost everything.

This battle was some of the most important in Japan. This resulted in a new era for warfare in Japan. Although guns had been around for some decades and had been used, never in the thousands, and as effectively as Oda did. These new experiences also was the reason of the early success in the Korean Invasion by Oda’s successor.

Oda never got to see the unification of Japan. He was betrayed by one of his allies for disputed reasons and killed in a temple. He only had a few dozen bodyguards while a whole army numbering in the thousands stormed the temple. Oda had the temple set on fire so his head wouldn’t be captured and his remains were never found. His successor defeated said traitor and unified Japan.

Fun fact: The smith who was tasked to reproduce the guns had trouble with screws, because screws weren’t a thing in Japan. A Portuguese smith had to come a year later.

Pivot towards China Dr M implores

Dr. M at the age of 97 is full of wisdom. 

US has no friends in Asia. The only two surrogates; Japan and South Korea are still under US occupation. 

If there is a war, they will chase the US military out of their countries to prevent being the target of Chinese bombing.

Article HERE

Exactly Right.

As A CHINESE CITIZEN, I didn’t like the CCP until I went to Japan to study for my medical doctor degree.

After I was free to use Google, Facebook, and Twitter, I found that the Western media was full of lies, prejudice, discrimination, and fooling.

Although I think the CCP sucks, I find that the political parties in other countries are worse. One is worse than the other, full of politics, interests, lies, deception and contempt for the people.

compared to CCP, Regardless of the purpose, the least CCp helps the poorest people have eat and live in a house, rather than letting them hang out on the street aimlessly.

In China, whether you are a child from a remote rural area or born in a big city like Beijing or Shanghai, as long as you work hard, you will have the opportunity to change your life and live a life of the American middle class.

My parents, a pair of ordinary Chinese residents, their salary can support my tuition and living expenses in Japan. I talked with an American college student, and when I mentioned the student loan, the sadness on his face shocked me. He said he needed at least 10 years to repay his college tuition.

China’s medical system and medical insurance allow my parents to get comprehensive medical treatment in a timely and fast manner with little money when they are sick. As a medical practitioner, I think that the average American middle class can get the same medical services as my parents in my hometown, but it will cost more money, dozens or hundreds of times.

I am from a small, remote city in China and I don’t think the quality of life in a big city in Japan is higher. The law and order situation in Japan is also similar to my hometown. The most furious thing is that I have lost my third bicycle downstairs in my Japanese apartment. Similarly, call police are useless for lost bicycles.

I can see that the CCP has moved many poor people from China’s harsh environment to my hometown, giving them land, seeds and machines to farm them. I even saw a lot of large agricultural drones flying over rice fields.

The infrastructure in my hometown is also very good. The roads are smooth and the traffic is developed. I must drive to go out to buy food more conveniently. I don’t think my life in China is different from that in the United States or Japan.

So, since the CCP is good at governing China, why should I abandon such a life to embrace hypocritical Western democracy, I don’t want to be robbed or shot after 10pm.

Triple-Crust Peach Cobbler

When two crusts just won’t cut it, make it three with this popular triple crust peach cobbler! It’s layered with irresistibly sweet peaches, making it perfect from summer all the way to fall. Any season, any time, this recipe never falls short of amazing.

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Ingredients

  • 3 boxes (11 oz) Betty Crocker™ Pie Crust Mix
  • 1 cup cold water
  • 1 1/2 cups sugar
  • 3/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
  • 2 teaspoons ground nutmeg
  • 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla
  • 2 teaspoons lemon extract
  • 2 cans (29 ounces each) sliced peaches in syrup, undrained

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United States and Europe Shoot Themselves In the Head and Blame Russia

We are now officially in “Roll On The Floor Laugh Your Ass Off” territory. The United States and Europe, which are on the precipice of economic collapse, are blaming Russia for their problems. I suppose when you are deaf, dumb, blind and stupid to boot, it is wonderful to have Russia around to blame for everything.

  • Are you ugly? That is Russia’s fault.
  • Fat? Putin did it.
  • Broke and bankrupt? A nefarious commie plot by Putin and his Russia cronies, who are not communist.

But why let troublesome facts get in the way of telling a gargantuan lied.

This headline from Bloomberg, Holiday Season Airfares Soar on Pricey Fuel and Revenge Travel, is representative of the collective dishonesty and madness that has seized Biden and the clowns of Europe:

Russia’s strategy of curbing supplies of natural gas to Europe has sparked a full-blown power crisis and spurred a rush for alternatives such as diesel that can be used for heating, industry and electricity generation. That’s creating a shortage of jet fuel — which is made from the same type of oil as diesel — just as demand soars.

Airfares to Europe and the Americas from Asia have at least doubled from pre-pandemic levels on the back of limited capacity, as well as the jump in jet fuel prices,” said Mayur Patel, head of Asia at OAG. Prices aren’t likely to get back to 2019 levels until at least early 2023, as it will take a while for “the frenzied travel demand that has built up in recent years” to taper off, he said.

The surge in aviation fuel is most pronounced in Europe, where the energy crisis is most acute. Prices there are up about 56% this year, with Asia and the US not far behind. By comparison, global oil benchmark Brent crude has risen around 21%.

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Excuse me. Russia’s strategy? Now I realize that the demented Joe Biden cannot remember what day of the week it is, but what is the excuse for a supposedly professional economic news outlet like Bloomberg.

Let us stroll down memory lane.

Do you remember this announcement from the Biden White House in early March of this year:

Today, President Biden will sign an Executive Order (E.O.) to ban the import of Russian oil, liquefied natural gas, and coal to the United States – a significant action with widespread bipartisan support that will further deprive President Putin of the economic resources he uses to continue his needless war of choice.

The United States made this decision in close consultation with our Allies and partners around the world, as well as Members of Congress of both parties. The United States is able to take this step because of our strong domestic energy infrastructure and we recognize that not all of our Allies and partners are currently in a position to join us. But we are united with our Allies and partners in working together to reduce our collective dependence on Russian energy and keep the pressure mounting on Putin, while at the same taking active steps to limit impacts on global energy markets and protect our own economies.

These guys make Alec Baldwin look like a professional firearms safety instructor.

They are not shooting the director. They pointed the gun at their own heads and pulled the trigger. BOOM!

The United States and Europe imposed sanctions on Russian oil and gas and shutdown the international financial system, which provided a mechanism for Russia to sell oil and gas to the west, and that is Putin’s fault?

I have always lived by the motto, if you’re going to jump out of a plane at altitude make sure you have a parachute attached to your body.

The same principle applies to imposing economic sanctions. If you are going to try to punish one of the world’s largest producer and exporter of oil and gas, make damn sure you have ample alternative supplies.

Paying higher airfare is chicken feed compared to the economic ass whipping the United States and Europe, especially Europe, are now starting to feel. Here is some cheery news, also courtesy of Bloomberg, about the energy tsunami that is clobbering Britain:

Soaring energy bills are threatening to put six in 10 British manufacturers out of business, according to a survey that lays bare the extent of the crisis facing the next prime minister.

“The current crisis is leaving businesses facing a stark choice,” the report said. “Cut production or shut up shop altogether if help does not come soon.”

Just taking a wild guess here, but it seems that losing 60% of your manufacturing capability is a pretty big deal and might, just might, hurt the national economy of the Brits.

Again, I’m spitballing.

The news from Germany is similarly bleak:

German exports and imports both fell in July as surging prices and the war in Ukraine threaten to send Europe’s largest economy into a recession.

The trade surplus shrank to 5.4 billion euros ($5.4 billion) from 6.2 billion euros in June, as exports dropped by 2.1% and imports by 1.5%, Germany’s statistics office said Friday. Goods sales to the US, the country’s biggest market, fell by almost 14%. 

Why is that? What could have caused such economic turmoil in Russia. Reuters provides a tantalizing clue:

Germany faces the “bitter reality” that Russia will not restore gas supplies to the country, the German economy minister said on Monday, ahead of planned halt by state energy giant Gazprom (GAZP.MM) of exports to Europe via the Nord Stream 1 pipeline.

“It won’t come back … It is the bitter reality,” Robert Habeck said in a panel with European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen.

Russia will halt natural gas supplies to Europe for three days at the end of the month for unscheduled maintenance to the Nord Stream pipeline, Gazprom said on Friday, piling pressure on the region as it seeks to refuel ahead of winter.

Golly gee willikers.

It only took the Germans six months to figure out that kicking Russia in the testicles would make Russia reluctant to be friends and sell the Germans gas at cut rate prices.

The Russians understand how to fix the problem, but many European leaders are blind, intransigent and certifiable cretins:

“The energy security of Europe without Russia is impossible,” Volodin wrote, noting that the EU had two options: “The first one. Lift illegal sanctions against our country and launch Nord Stream 2. The second one. To leave everything as it is, which will lead to problems in the economy and make life even more difficult for citizens,” he said, according to Reuters’ translation.

UK Prime Minister Boris Johnston accused Russia of weaponizing natural gas in retaliation to western sanctions at a press hearing on Wednesday, though he emphasized Europe would not back down from its support of Ukraine, with countries like Germany shifting away from Russian energy supplies entirely. Europe is also on track to meeting its natural gas storage targets this winter, a positive sign as countries try to get by without Russian energy flows. 

There you have it.

The west impose sanctions on Russian oil and gas, but it is Russia, not the west, that is weaponizing gas.

I have a suggestion for Vladimir Putin–let the western politicians and their people who embrace sanctioning Russia, suck on the results.

Winter is not here yet, but it is nigh.

Soon the stinky, sweating Europeans who have been compelled to cut back on hot water and air conditioning will be shivering in the hovels trying to figure out how to kindle a fire without putting their whole complex up in flames. I recall another relevant aphorism, “revenge is a dish best served cold.

Looks like Europe has conjured up its own wintry buffet.

Bon appétit.

Plato’s Fight Against Apollo’s Temple of Delphi and the Cult of Democracy

Cynthia Chung

Homer’s great poems that are left to us today, The Iliad and The Odyssey, describe the events of the Trojan War and its immediate aftermath, events which marked the descent of Greece into a Dark Age. Following the Trojan War, c.1190 BCE, the civilization of mainland Greece collapsed, written language was lost, and cities disappeared.

During this period, Greece suffered an almost complete lost of its history. To this day, we do not know much of what Greece was before and during this Dark Age.

The Iliad and The Odyssey, written around c.720 BCE heralded the reversal of the collapse, and the beginnings of Classical Greek culture.

In Plato’s Timaeus, Solon (630-560 BCE) visits the Egyptian priests of Neith to discuss Greece’s history, for unlike the Greeks, the Egyptians had done well in preserving a record of their history for over centuries. The Egyptian priests say to Solon, that this is not the first time that Greece had nearly lost all record of their history, that the Greeks had been an advanced civilization before this last deluge, and that there had been many deluges prior, each time wiping all record of the previous civilization. A very aged priest tells Solon, in Plato’s Timaeus, that several centuries earlier, Athens had been in conflict with the great power of Atlantis, which was then destroyed in a catastrophe.

The Egyptian priests recount to Solon how the Greek people had gone from an advanced civilization to being like children every time there was a natural calamity.

Solon (630-560 BCE) is considered the greatest of the seven sages of Greece, and is famous for writing the code of laws in Athens and establishing the Republic of Greece, which laid the foundations for how government and society would be organized for the next 2500 years.

Among Solon’s great deeds was the abolishment of the debt moratorium. He outlawed the sale of free men into slavery to pay their debts, and encouraged craftsmanship and industry knowing that these were among the greatest expressions of human achievement. This propelled Athens to become a world leader in the arts and sciences.

Solon also set up the Council of the Areopagus, which was made up of aristocrats, were selected based on their merit, and served the council for life. The Council of Areopagus played a major positive role in Greek politics (more on this shortly).

It is said that with these laws in place, Solon left Athens for 10 years, since the people had agreed to give the laws this amount of time, and visited Egypt among many other places. Plato, would make a similar trip two hundred years later.

Cyrus the Great (unknown-530 BCE) from around 550 to 539 BCE led a military campaign that is recognized as the reunification of the Iranian people, but also entered the territories of Lydia and Ionia. In these areas considered to be the reunification of Iran, he united the tribes, set up a common language and promoted the sciences and industry, and thus contributed much as a builder of these cities.

The reason why he went into Lydia and Ionia is a bit of a controversial case because King Croesus of Lydia had basically become convinced by the Assyrian Empire and also the priests of the Temple of Delphi that he would be victorious in an attack against Cyrus the Great, despite Cyrus being ready to leave Lydia and Ionia alone.

Cyrus the Great appears to be an exception to what followed him afterwards during the reigns of Darius, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes who led the Persian Empire and who we will discuss further later on. [Military Campaign of Darius I 521-486 BCE, Xerxes I 485-465 BCE, Artaxerxes I 464-424 BCE.]

Babylon was the last conquest of Cyrus the Great in 539 BCE.

According to Charles Tate, author of “The Truth About Plato,” the Babylonian priesthood (led by the priests of Marduk) seeing what Cyrus the Great was accomplishing, thereupon decided to open the doors of Babylon to him. They did this partially because they knew they would not be able to resist him anyway, but also because they thought that they could use him.

When Cyrus enters Babylon, he slaughters the Babylonian King and all those considered loyal to the King. But the Marduk priests were allowed to go about their daily rituals as if nothing had happened. This was because they had made an agreement with Cyrus the Great.

Thus ended the reign of the Babylonian Empire (1895 – 539 BCE). However, as often occurs with the collapse of a powerfully ancient empire, much of the seed of that empire was transferred over to a new host.

The Marduk priesthood was ancient, and rose to prominence during the reign of Hammurabi (1792-1750 BCE) and continued to be venerated in the city throughout the time of Persian rule.

The Marduk priesthood always believed in the right to enslave and brutally tax the populations of Mesopotamia.

It is not clear if Cyrus the Great was aware of what the Marduk priesthood was as a global force of evil, nevertheless, he did officially recognize the god Marduk and would publicly worship him during his stay in Babylon.

However, to put things into balance, no king appeared to be free of this form of control. No Babylonian king ever made war, or peace without first consulting the oracles of the Marduk Temple. This was the exact system later put in place at Apollo’s Temple of Delphi in Greece. In fact, Marduk is the equivalent to Zeus and Apollo in Greece and Phoebus in Egypt, first originating in Babylon. And temples were set up with these priesthoods under this common network.

Not even King Leonidas with his legendary force of 300 against Persia was able to avoid paying a visit to the Cult of Delphi before setting on to the Battle at Thermopylae in 480 BCE.

One of the most famous prophecies made by the Cult of Delphi, according to the ancient historian Herodotus, was to King Croesus of Lydia in 550 BCE. King Croesus was a very rich king and the last bastion of the Ionian cities against the increasing Persian power in Anatolia. The king wished to know whether he should continue his military campaign deeper into Persian Empire territory.

According to Herodotus, the amount of gold King Croesus delivered was the greatest ever bestowed upon the Temple of Apollo. In return, the priestess of Delphi, otherwise known as the Oracle, would spout nonsensical babble, intoxicated by the gas vapours of the chasm she was conveniently placed atop. The priests would then “translate” the Oracle’s prophecy.

King Croesus was told as his prophecy-riddle, “If Croesus goes to war he will destroy a great empire.” Croesus was overjoyed and thought his victory solid and immediately began working towards building his military campaign against Persia. Long story short, Croesus lost everything and Lydia was taken over by the Persians.

It turns out the prophetic riddle was not wrong, but that Croesus mistook which great empire would fall.

The Cult of Apollo thus destroyed the Greek-allied kingdom of Lydia, misleading King Croesus. It also derailed Ionia’s resistance to the Persian invasion, countered Athenian intervention to aid Ionia against Persia, attempted to sabotage Greek resistance in the Persian War, and encouraged the suicidal Peloponnesian War launched in 434 BCE.

The priests of Delphi were also spreaders of occult superstition.

For instance, whenever the populace would be mobilized towards a certain action, such as the support for the Ionian uprising against Persia (more on this shortly), the Cult of Delphi said that terrible things were going to happen if the Athenian people supported this. The people were told that Apollo would be very upset and that plagues would be unleashed on the people if they supported such a cause.

The Apollo temples were also the wealthiest banking centers in the Mediterranean world. They would finance military campaigns, politicians, and the careers of generals who could be used to advance their agenda.

Two stories that give us an idea of what sort of god Apollo was, are those of Marsyas and Orestes. In one story, Marsyas and Apollo enter a music competition that is judged by the Muses. Marsyas, a Phrygian Satyr, was an expert player of the double fluted instrument known as the aulos.

Apollo is known for playing the lyre. The Muses decide that Marsyas is the better instrumentalist, however, in the final round Apollo sings while playing the lyre and the Muses are won over and ultimately favor Apollo.

Since the victor decides what they wish to do to their competitor, Apollo decides to flay (peel the skin off) Marsyas alive, for he was technically the better player and Apollo was so jealous that he had Marsyas slowly tortured to death.

The other well known story is by Aeschylus (524-456 BCE), in his famous Orestes trilogy. [I will go into a little bit of the political and artistic role of Aeschylus in Greece shortly.]

In the Orestes story, there is a curse that follows Agamemnon (the General of the Greeks) back from the Trojan War, since it was not a Just war.

The war started when Menelaus’s wife Helen (known as one of the most beautiful woman in the world) was seduced by Paris, a prince from Troy and ran off with him. Thus to save face, Menelaus (the brother of Agamemnon) decides Greece must go to war with Troy, a war which lasted anywhere between ten and twenty years.

In order to have good weather for the voyage, Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia to the gods. This crime sets a terrible cycle of an-eye-for-an-eye retribution that would go on for years.

Orestes is the son of Agamemnon and the story focuses on this cycle of vengeance and destruction. Creatures known as the Erinyes (aka: Furies) torment and hunt those who have committed a crime and are harbored in the temples of Apollo, who is the god of distance, death, terror, and awe.

In Aeschylus’ story, the resolution to this ongoing vicious cycle of destruction is the creation of the Council of the Areopagus, which was the council that had been set up by Solon earlier. The Erinyes are able to find their place in a more noble form of natural law and secondary to the Council of the Areopagus, which functioned like a court of law with Athena as its symbolic head.

***

By 499 BCE there was the Ionian Uprising against Persia. As you can see in the map the Ionians are in the center, and the rebellion is occurring on the right side of the map in Asia (with the left side being mainland Greece).

After Solon, there was a period of tyrants who ruled Athens followed by the period of the Greek democrats. These Greek democrats were the force most controlled by not only the ever-abundant Persian coin, but also Persia’s intelligence apparatus. Hold in mind that Babylon was still at the center of the Marduk, Apollo, Phoebus network.

In 499 BCE, anti-Persian forces revolted against King Darius I. The leader of the revolt, Aristagoras of Miletus traveled throughout Greece seeking support for the rebellion. In Athens, his call was heeded with the city sending ships and heavily armed Greek soldiers resulting in many military successes.

After about a year, Greek democrats in Athens began saying that they should not be supporting the Ionian Uprising because they were led by Ionian aristocrats, thus Greek democrats should not be supporting these landowners who, it was claimed, only cared for their own interests. Unlike the Athenian Democrats, these “corrupt” Ionian aristocrats were against the rule of the Persian Empire and were for the independence of the Greek states.

The Cult of Delphi added to this mob frenzy by spreading superstition that bad things would happen if the people continued to support the Ionian rebels.

As a result of the loss of Athenian support, the men of Miletus were all butchered, the boys castrated to serve the Persian Empire as eunuchs and the women were either forced to become brides, brought to harems or forced to fend for themselves.

When Mardonius, Persian General, in 492 BCE (son-in-law to Darius I) led an armada of 600 ships against Ionia. Rather than replace Ionian aristocrats with Persian overlords, Mardonius instead placed Greek democratic stooges into power, as they were considered a much more effective control on the population.

The Council of the Areopagus, the traditional leadership of Athens established by Solon, consisting of aristocrats, also started to come under attack from the Athenian democrats.

And so there was a fight as to what the future of Athens was going to be, whether they were going to be a free people or subjects of an empire.

Cleisthenes, the first democratic leader of Athens in 510 BCE attained power not by any popular movement or class struggle but by the financing of the Cult of Apollo. Cleisthenes’s Alcmaeonid family went on to dominate the Athenian democracy for nearly one hundred years with the backing of Delphi.

In 507 BCE Cleisthenes voluntarily sent to Persia the traditional tokens of submission, earth and water, marking the first official contact between Persian imperialism and Greek democracy with a promise of Athen’s vassalage to King Darius I.

Years later, King Leonidas of Sparta also received envoys from Persia asking for these same tokens of submission. According to legend, King Leonidas exclaimed “You want earth and water?” and threw the entire Persian envoy to their deaths down a deep well.

This led to the legendary battle of King Leonidas’ 300 men at the Thermopylae in 480 BCE where they fought an incredible resistance to the onslaught of the Persian Empire, and are remembered as heroic warriors against the rule of tyranny to this day.

During this period, Athenians would also have their share in legendary battles against the Persians with the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE, and the Battle of Salamis in 480 BCE. However, despite their legendary victories against incredible odds, Athenian democrats were able to move the political foment to an increasingly pro-Persian stance under the government of the Cleisthenes’ Alcmaeonid family (whose members also included Pericles and Alcibiades).

The historian Herodotus (484-425 BCE) offered the following account of Persia’s motives for establishing so-called democracies to rule over its satrapies.

And thus, Greek democracy did not have a lot of respect from Herodotus either, who lived during the time of Xerxes.

King Darius I (550-486 BCE) was successful in crushing the Ionian revolt and so he thought it was going to be a piece of cake to take over the Greek mainland.

The Areopagites who were made up of the Athenian aristocracy, described themselves as the party of the Beautiful and the Good [“Beautiful” in this case, referring to that which pertains to the soul].

To the Areopagites, Greeks did not live in a nation or an empire, but in city-states, independent communities clustered around a city center.

Each city-state had different laws, worshipped different gods but were unified by the common Greek language which created the bedrock of their common culture under Homer.

One of the tools used by the Greek city states against the threat of Persia, under the direction of the Council of the Areopagus, was found in classical Greek tragedies and the Greek tragedy competitions. These competitions were held between three different playwrights (selected half a year before), who were required to compose three tragedies and one satyr play each. The Greek tragedy festivities were second only to the Athletic competitions and were deeply influential on the Greek culture.

In 493 BCE, Phrynichus staged his drama Capture of Miletus on the Ionian Uprising (about the population that was slaughtered by the Persians). The drama carried a strong warning to mainland Greeks that the defeated Ionians’ fate would soon be their own if they did not prepare to expell the Persians.

The leaders of the democracy banned it, and this became the only play ever to be censored in the history of the politically volatile Greek theater because it “called too strongly to mind the suffering of the people.” However, likely the real reason why the play was censored, was due to the fear that it would instigate an uprising by the Greek people against Persia’s increasing control over their lives.

Another famous playwright who would follow Phrynichus is Aeschylus, known as the greatest Greek tragedian.

Aeschylus would write the Orestes trilogy, as already discussed and also wrote The Persians, recounting the heroism of the Greeks in defeating Darius I at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE.

As already mentioned, Darius I was very cocky after subduing the Ionian Uprising and figured the conquering of mainland Greece would not be difficult. The Battle of Marathon was the first battle the Greeks fought against Persia and it was a humiliating defeat for the Persian Empire, where 10,000 Greeks were able to defeat 100,000 Persians.

It wouldn’t be for another ten years before Persia would try to attack mainland Greece, this time under Xerxes in 480 BCE.

Xerxes had defeated King Leonidas, but that was only because Leonidas could only organize three hundred men to follow him, since Sparta was also going through its own problems with influential Spartan politicians bought with Persian coin. If this sort of corruption had not taken hold and King Leonidas had his full army, they would have undoubtedly beat the Persian onslaught.

The Battle of Salamis would again deal a humiliating defeat to the Persians in 480 BCE. As the story goes, the Phoenicians, who had been conquered, were manning the ships of the Persian Empire and met the Greek ships, only to immediately defect to the side of the Greeks.

The Persians written by Aeschylus was again to rouse the the spirit of the Greek people to resist being ruled as a vassal state by the Persians. The play taught the people that there was no need to bow down to an inferior system that was based on subjugation and plunder.

How greatly the victory of Marathon effected the political morale of the Greeks can be seen from the fact that Aeschylus’ chosen epitaph forty years later written on his tomb stone, said nothing about his plays which guaranteed his immortality or about his lifetime as a political organizer for the Areopagites but only that he had fought at Marathon.

With this victory, Greece was now on the offensive and was preparing to take back Ionia and assist in the liberation of Egypt. This force for the first time united the two most powerful cities in Greece, Athens and Sparta, in an alliance known as the Delian League, founded in 478 BCE.

From c.461- 429 BCE Pericles would be the head of Athenian democracy.  Falsely remembered as the architect of the Golden Age of Athenian culture, in fact, Pericles had done much to destroy the good works of Athens and to sabotage the anti-Persian cause. Pericles broke the alliance of the Delian League and led Greece into the Peloponnesian War, pitting Greek against Greek instead of Greek against Persian.

Under Pericles’ leadership, Athens increasingly became imperialistic and began to experience an agricultural and industrial decline and its economy was suffering for it.

Athens, under Pericles’ direction, responded to this economic crisis not by increasing the emphasis on scientific and industrial advancements but rather on increasing their imperial looting of other Athenian city-states, which increasingly were treated as vassals to Athens.

Sparta was clearly not going to go along with this and this is what broke up the very important alliance of the Delian League leading into the Peloponnesian War.

Pericles actually led Athens into the first two years of the Peloponnesian War against Sparta. So it is clear, Pericles was a massive saboteur of the Greek cause against Persia.

The Peloponnesian War had Greeks fighting Greeks from 431-404 BC, lasting for nearly thirty years.

Pericles is also the one to have introduced the infamous sophists to Athens, which Plato eviscerated throughout his writings, notably the dialogues of Gorgias and Protagoras, not to mention the character of Thrasymachus in his Republic. None of these characters were fictional devices created by Plato, but were in fact leading sophists of their day. In the dialogues, Plato would showcase where these men’s true values and morals lay. In fact, it was Gorgias who was responsible for encouraging Alcibiades to commit to the suicidal run attacking Syracuse which resulted in extending the Peloponnesian War for another thirteen years.

For a price, these foreign sophists would offer any Athenian who wished his children to prosper in the city government, tutoring in the use of rhetoric and “sophistry”, which was simply the art of making a weaker argument appear the stronger. Sophistry promised a fast track to success in government, and was heavily promoted by Pericles’ chief adviser Anaxagoras.

The sophists were not surprisingly also against the anti-Persian cause.

Because Persia had not been successful in their attacks from the outside, the strategy had changed to have Greece destroy itself from within, pitting Greek against Greek.

In 417 BCE Athens was strong enough to bring the war to a close but was subverted by the decisions of one man named Alcibiades. Plato had introduced this Alcibiades in several dialogues as a promising young man that Socrates was attempting to organize, but failed to sway from the influence of the sophists. Alcibiades would heed the advice of Gorgias to invade Syracuse since this would deliver him fame and fortune. Syracuse was known for its vast troves of riches, and at the time Athens was bankrupt, largely from the costly Peloponnesian War.

The Athenians enthusiastically backed the invasion of Syracuse, and paid no heed to their leading general Nikias who is presented in Plato’s dialogue Laches discussing the meaning of courage with Socrates. Alcibiades’ expedition resulted in the decimation of the Athenian army and navy as tens of thousands of Athenians died of starvation in caves as captives of Sicily.

This massive loss was enough to keep the Peloponnesian War going for another 13 years.

Persian subversion had brought the Greeks into a collapse administered by their own hand.

***

Now we enter the timeframe of Plato.

Plato was born in 427 BCE, and thus four years into the Peloponnesian War and is a young man when the war ends in 404 BCE. Athens is considered the loser of the war, however, this had much to do with Admiral Lysander of Sparta who struck an alliance with the Persians sealing Sparta’s victory and ending the conflict.

Subsequently, the Thirty Tyrants, chosen by Lysander, are put in place as the new Athenian government.

Historical accounts say the the rule of the Thirty Tyrants, which was only about eight months long, was so horrendous that it made the Peloponnesian War look pale in comparison. Many executions and brutal in-fighting occurred further weakening a defeated Athens.

Plato is living as a young man throughout all of this, and by the age of about twenty meets Socrates, who is among the few leaders remaining of the anti-Persian force. Socrates was, among others, leading the efforts to revive the city-building tradition of Solon.

Socrates’ education in public affairs doubtlessly came from his father, who was a close friend of Aristides the Just, the leader of the Athenian Areopagites (Council of the Areopagus). Socrates was himself closely associated with the Aristides family and acted as ward to Aristide’s granddaughter and tutor to his grandson.

There is a lot of criticism that Plato and Socrates were simply philosophers who did a lot of talking but never participated in the political fight within Athens. This could not be further from the truth.

One example occurred in 406 BCE, two years before the defeat of Athens in the Peloponnesian war.

Conon, the a leading democratic military man in Athens (and massive stooge of Persia), charged the entire Athenian staff of military Generals with the crime of refusing to pick up shipwrecked soldiers following the Battle of Arginusae. The fact was that doing so amidst stormy waters would have put the rest of the crew at major risk. This was nothing other than an attempted military coup d’état on the part of Conon, who was calling for the execution of all of the leading Athenian military men.

Socrates, who was serving his term in rotation as president of the Athenian Assembly stopped the trial, declaring it in violation of the laws of Athens and refused to put the question to a vote. The democratic party, nonetheless, illegally condemned the Generals to death the following day. The military leadership of Athens was destroyed which paved the way for a Persian-backed Spartan victory over Athens in less than two years.

To give a more personal context of what Plato was being confronted with as a young man here are a few excerpts from his Letter VII.

In my youth I went through the same experience as many other men. I fancied that if, early in life, I became my own master, I should at once embark on a political career. And I found myself confronted with the following occurrences in the public affairs of my own city. The existing constitution being generally condemned, a revolution took place, and fifty-one men came to the front as rulers of the revolutionary government, namely eleven in the city and ten in the Peiraeus-each of these bodies being in charge of the market and municipal matters-while thirty were appointed rulers with full powers over public affairs as a whole. Some of these were relatives and acquaintances of mine, and they at once invited me to share in their doings, as something to which I had a claim. The effect on me was not surprising in the case of a young man. I considered that they would, of course, so manage the State as to bring men out of a bad way of life into a good one. So I watched them very closely to see what they would do.

And seeing, as I did, that in quite a short time they made the former government seem by comparison something precious as gold-for among other things they tried to send a friend of mine, the aged Socrates, whom I should scarcely scruple to describe as the most upright man of that day, with some other persons to carry off one of the citizens by force to execution, in order that, whether he wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of their conduct; but he would not obey them, risking all consequences in preference to becoming a partner in their iniquitous deeds-seeing all these things and others of the same kind on a considerable scale, I disapproved of their proceedings, and withdrew from any connection with the abuses of the time.

Not long after that a revolution terminated the power of the thirty and the form of government as it then was. And once more, though with more hesitation, I began to be moved by the desire to take part in public and political affairs. Well, even in the new government, unsettled as it was, events occurred which one would naturally view with disapproval; and it was not surprising that in a period of revolution excessive penalties were inflicted by some persons on political opponents, though those who had returned from exile at that time showed very considerable forbearance. But once more it happened that some of those in power brought my friend Socrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial before a court of law, laying a most iniquitous charge against him and one most inappropriate in his case: for it was on a charge of impiety that some of them prosecuted and others condemned and executed the very man who would not participate in the iniquitous arrest of one of the friends of the party then in exile, at the time when they themselves were in exile and misfortune.

As I observed these incidents and the men engaged in public affairs, the laws too and the customs, the more closely I examined them and the farther I advanced in life, the more difficult it seemed to me to handle public affairs aright. For it was not possible to be active in politics without friends and trustworthy supporters; and to find these ready to my hand was not an easy matter, since public affairs at Athens were not carried on in accordance with the manners and practices of our fathers; nor was there any ready method by which I could make new friends. The laws too, written and unwritten, were being altered for the worse, and the evil was growing with startling rapidity. The result was that, though at first I had been full of a strong impulse towards political life, as I looked at the course of affairs and saw them being swept in all directions by contending currents, my head finally began to swim; and, though I did not stop looking to see if there was any likelihood of improvement in these symptoms and in the general course of public life, I postponed action till a suitable opportunity should arise. Finally, it became clear to me, with regard to all existing communities, that they were one and all misgoverned. For their laws have got into a state that is almost incurable, except by some extraordinary reform with good luck to support it. And I was forced to say, when praising true philosophy that it is by this that men are enabled to see what justice in public and private life really is. Therefore, I said, there will be no cessation of evils for the sons of men, till either those who are pursuing a right and true philosophy receive sovereign power in the States, or those in power in the States by some dispensation of providence become true philosophers.

What this letter means is that despite the fact that Athenian society had a good constitution, a good foundation that was based off of Solon’s laws, there was nonetheless a degeneration into tyranny, corruption and mob rule.

So Plato is confronted with this and as a young man thinking to himself “What can I do about this?” Already at such a young age, Plato had the ability to see into the distant future and knew that there was nothing he could do in that very moment that could change the outcome which he was trying to prevent. Athens had reached such a point of decay, that the situation called for not only a great intervention but a great deal of work. There needed to be a total educational reform at this point because there was such a crisis in thinking which sophistry had done much to invoke.

It is at this point that Plato decides that this will be his life’s mission. Not as some romanticized idea of revolution, where one needs but lead the masses, for Plato understood that if you did not have a qualified group of thinkers to lead such a revolution, it would only bring about a bloodbath and further mayhem.

In 403 BCE, the Thirty Tyrants are expelled and there is a campaign in 401 BCE for a grouping of anti-Persian Athenian and Spartan forces to support Cyrus the Younger who is the brother of King of Persia Artaxerxes and thus heir to the Persian throne. This campaign became known as the Ten Thousand, mostly made up of Spartan soldiers.

It was hoped that Cyrus the Younger would dethrone Artaxerxes and rule Persia as a continuation of what was believed to be the rightful legacy of Cyrus the Great, a builder of cities, culture and industry and not a destroyer, plunderer or enslaver.

It was Cyrus the Younger’s wish to coexist peacefully with Greece.

Interestingly Xenophon, who is one of the leading students of Socrates (Plato and Xenophon were the two star pupils of Socrates), writes a historical account known as the Anabasis. This is especially relevant since Xenophon is also one of the soldiers of the Ten Thousand that accompanies Cyrus the Younger to fight Artaxerxes in the heart of Persian territory.

Xenophon writes in his Anabasis that he had asked Socrates for his advice and permission to join the expedition, and whether he thought it was a good idea. Xenophon was then sent on an intelligence probe to the Temple of Delphi.

Unfortunately, Cyrus the Younger is killed at the Battle of Cunaxa, after making a fatal decision to enter the fray by himself. The army of Ten Thousand won the battle but lost the war. There was now no hope that a Persian philosopher king could be placed on the Persian throne.

After Cyrus the Younger fell, chaos followed, for it was not clear whether the army should proceed to Babylon anyway or retreat back to Greece to form a contingency plan. Meno who is included in Plato’s dialogue by the same name, organizes for all of the Spartan and Greek Generals as well as all of the Captains of the Ten Thousand to be invited as “guest friends” of Persian soldiers supportive of Cyrus who had been fighting alongside the Greeks. They needed to reach a consensus whether the campaign should continue into Babylon or not.

It should be noted that to the Greeks, a “guest friend” is regarded as sacred promise by the host that no harm will be done so long as those individuals remain as guests, and the breaking of such a pact was considered one of the worst violations of the law of the Gods. But Persians are not Greeks, and the pact was broken. The very Persian men the Spartans and Greeks were fighting alongside in battle for weeks slaughtered the generals in the middle of their meal. And it was Meno who organized all of this with the Persian men.

According to Xenophon, Meno is then sent to Babylon and slowly tortured it is said even longer than any other captive. It is likely that the Persians turned on him, since they thought someone capable of this most dishonorable betrayal was not the kind of man they could ultimately trust.

Meno and Conon were biggest agents bought by the Persian Empire in Athens at the time.

At this point, the army of Ten Thousand was like a body left headless. Luckily a group of young men step up to take leadership of the disorganized force and Xenophon was among them. Through this new leadership, the ten thousand were led to safe return to Greece through a 1500 mile journey through hostile Persian territory.

In Plato’s Meno dialogue, Meno is referred to as a “guest friend of the great king” which was a polite way of saying a Persian agent and discusses with Socrates whether virtue can be taught. In this dialogue, Socrates shows Meno, how even a child Meno is keeping as a slave can discover the doubling of the square, displaying that the slave child was indeed not the inferior to Meno who was unable to solve the problem. Anytas, who is a close friend of Meno, also appears in the dialogue. It was not lost on Plato that Anytas was the chief accuser of Socrates as a corruptor of the youth, which led to Socrates’s execution.

This is no coincidence, that the traitor Meno is also associated with Anytas the chief accuser of Socrates and hints that much of this organized opposition to Socrates was Persian bought.

In 399 BCE, two years after the fall of Cyrus the Younger, Anytas and two other members of the democratic faction grouped around Admiral Conon, brought charges against Socrates on grounds of impiety and corruption of the youth. Plato writes about Socrates’ trial in the dialogue titled Apology.

Thus the many popular slanders that assert Socrates to be only a detached philosopher or Plato to be a supporter of tyranny are easily disproven when one takes the time to look at their actions in history. And despite Socrates conviction as a “corruptor of the youth” being made in the frenzy of mob rule, he abided by the verdict nonetheless, despite having opportunities to escape from his captivity (where he was kept for over a month), Socrates drank the hemlock which caused his death at the age of seventy-one.

By Socrates accepting such an unjust verdict, it showcased the terrifying injustice that arises out of mob rule (rule by popular opinion) which can easily take the form of a vicious species of tyranny onto itself. When the frenzy of mob rule is at its peak, it is the most destructive form of tyranny that can be unleashed upon a society.

Once Socrates dies, his leading allies flee Athens temporarily, because it is politically too hot for them and they risked also being imprisoned and executed.

Plato leaves for Egypt where he stays for thirteen years.

Even though Egypt was a satrapy of the Persian Empire by 525 BCE, which was conquered by King Cambyses of Persia, Egypt nonetheless had maintained a potent anti-oligarchist, anti-Persian elite. This Egyptian elite was centered in the Amun priesthood. In fact, the Athenian law-giver Solon, the philosopher Pythagoras and the scientist Thales of Miletus (another one of the seven sages alongside Solon) both traveled to Egypt nearly 200 years earlier to consult with the Amun priests.

Plato likely followed Solon’s footsteps to Egypt and during his thirteen year stay was likely involved in a political conspiracy against Persia.

During this time Agesilaus is selected by Lysander (who has been working with the Persians) to inherit the Spartan throne. Agesilaus was thought to be not too bright and thus easy to control and was also partially lame physically. Thus Agesilaus was thought to be great puppet material for the Persians.

However, things did not quite work out that way.

As soon as Agesilaus is named King of Sparta, he fired Lysander as Admiral and takes full command, turns on his pro-Persia supporters. He then used the battle-ready ten thousand soldiers (that made up the contingent that fought for Cyrus the Younger), still assembled in their camps on the coast of Ionia, to liberate Ionia from Persian rule, rather than subjugate Athens as Lysander had wanted.

Agesilaus meets Xenophon at the coast of Ionia with the Ten Thousand, and Xenophon becomes his advisor, remaining good friends for the rest of their lives. Xenophon was rather adept at military strategy and wrote The Education of Cyrus the Great, a masterpiece on military strategy which became Alexander the Great’s most cherished book, which he carried with him everywhere.

In 395 BCE Agesilaus and the Ten Thousand completely destroy Artaxerxes’ army. Lysander in Sparta and Conon in Athens maneuver to stop Agesilaus’ next move which was to strike at the heart of the Persian Empire in Babylon. They achieved this sabotage by creating a navy blockade in the Aegean Sea, which would have prevented Agesilaus’ return home making the entire military campaign for naught, and causing the Ten Thousand army to run out of resources, left completely vulnerable to a Persian onslaught.

The Cult of Delphi also aided in spreading ominous prophecies and called for the resignation of Sparta’s King, Agesilaus.

Agesilaus’ forces were saved from being cut off from their return route, thanks to the support from the Egyptian component of the anti-Persian alliance, where Plato was on the scene.

The Egyptian navy effectively moved their forces north to the Aegean Sea and forced the Athenian and Spartan navy to stand down, reopening the return route for Agesilaus and his Ten Thousand men.

Lysander’s plot to capture the Spartan throne was thus undone by the priests of Amun (in Egypt) who came forward publicly for the only time in recorded history to denounce the Temple of Apollo and Lysander as conspirators, demanding the expulsion of Lysander from Sparta.

In addition, Egypt’s King Nepherites I (Nefaarud I) gave Sparta, under the leadership of Agesilaus, materials for the production of one hundred ships and 500,000 measures of grain, to withstand any attempted attack by Conon.

Plato’s connection to this campaign can be seen by his principal activity in Egypt, and his collaboration with Eudoxus of Cnidus, one of the most outstanding mathematicians of all time, who he would continue to work closely with during their stay in Tarentum with Eudoxus’s teacher Archytas, the leader of Tarentum. Later Eudoxus’ school would merge with Plato’s Academy.

According to Charles Tate’s paper “The Truth About Plato,” Eudoxus is described by his ancient biographer to be an agent of Agesilaus in Egypt. With Plato and Eudoxus being close political allies, it is safe to say that Plato played a major role politically in organizing the Egyptian support for Agesilaus’s military campaign against the Persians.

Agesilaus, however, would have to wait for his next opportunity against Persia, after a Corinthian War was declared against Sparta before he could continue the operation. This war prevented Sparta from sending its best troops to Asia for Agesilaus’s campaign against Babylon.

The Corinthian War was an ancient Greek conflict lasting from 395 BC until 387 BC, pitting Sparta against a coalition of Thebes, Athens, Corinth and Argos, backed by the Achaemenid/Persian Empire.

Agesilaus has been recorded in history as having said “I have ben driven from Asia by 10,000 archers,” however, he did not mean actual archers, but Persian coin, the Daric, which had showcased Persian archers on them. Agesilaus was referencing the Persian bought city-states of Thebes, Athens, Corinth and Argos whose declaration of war with Sparta sabotaged his military campaign against Babylon.

In 388 BCE Plato left Egypt and he arrived in Tarentum where he stayed for three years, building an intelligence network with Eudoxus and Archytas where the trio worked on their next game plan.

Despite the Greek and Spartan soldiers being militarily superior to the Persians, the Persians had been very successful in creating internal resistance with the Greek city states against these military campaigns, through bribery and other forms of corruption.

According to Charles Tates’ hypothesis in his “The Truth About Plato,” Plato, Eudoxus, and Archytas decide that they need to first destroy the Temple of Delphi, which was the source of this corruption and counter-intelligence in Greece. By destroying the Temple of Delphi, the source of this pro-Persian financing would be cut off, making it feasible to finally lead a military campaign into the heart of Persia, Babylon.

By the fourth century, Syracuse was the richest city in all of the Mediterranean, and it was decided by Plato, Eudoxus and Archytas, that this was strategically the best base from which to launch their attack.

Unlike the Persian bought Greek city-states (except for Sparta of course), Syracuse was not pro-Persian, and had sided at every instance during the Peloponnesian War on the side of the anti-Persian forces. This is likely why Gorgias encouraged Alcibiades to launch his suicidal run against Syracuse earlier.

Plato enters Syracuse in 387 BCE and meets Dionysus I and tries to organize the him to change from being a tyrannical ruler to a lawful philosopher king. Dionysus I was a soft tyrant in relation to others who existed during his time. For instance, despite the many prominent Syracusans exiled under his reign, there is no reliable record to show he ever executed citizens. Being exiled was often only temporary with a return of possessions and citizenship often delivered in time.

Reported by the first century BCE historian Diodorus, Plato had convinced Dionysius I that if he were to liberate Greece he must destroy the Oracle of Apollo of Delphi by military force.

In 385 BCE, Plato was able to organize Dionysus I to begin one of the most ambitious city building projects ever conceived. His plan was to establish cities on the Adriatic Sea, to gain control of the passage between Italy and Greece. With this secured, the route to Epirus on the western coast of mainland Greece would come under Syracusan control. Next Dionysus I planned to use these cities as a military staging ground for a great invasion of Delphi.

With the temple priests destroyed, the financial and political intelligence underpinning of the Persian-backed Theban-led alliance against Sparta would be destroyed. Once freed from battling for its very existence, Sparta led by Agesilaus, and backed with a Syracusan fleet and all the gold captured from Delphi could complete the task begun ten years earlier and end the Persian empire.

However, Dionysus I became convinced by members of his court that Plato was plotting against him, and consigned him to a fate never used against Greeks except in a state of war. Dionysus slave of his fears and ignorance sold Plato into slavery.

Plato is purchased from slavery with the help of Dion the nephew of Dionysius I, who refuses to be paid back. The funds are subsequently used to pay for the building of the Grove of Academus, which later became known as ‘Plato’s Academy’. Eudoxus also brings his school from a city on the Black Sea and merges it with the academy.

Lists of Plato’s students have survived showing that they came from all over Greece and that several women were even included, typically excluded from schools of philosophy.

It was not just an educational center but an intelligence center.

In 367 BCE, almost twenty years after he had auctioned Plato into slavery, Dionysus I suffered the consequences of leading a tyrant’s life and died, under circumstances that strongly suggest poisoning.

He was succeeded by his son Dionysius II. Dion, the most experience person at court, quickly became the virtual regent of the young man who had just entered his twenties. Dion asked for Plato’s return to Syracuse and immediately began to immerse the boy in a rigorous study of geometry and epistemology, making it clear, that he would never become a great leader of his people if he did not first master these sciences. At first the young man was eager to learn. According to Plutarch the floors were covered with sand and used to sketch geometric constructions.

However, young Dionysus II soon became frustrated with his long hours of studying, and starts to feel like he has been lied to and cheated by Plato, who had promised him great power if he only took the time to commit to his studies.

At this point, it is getting pretty heated between Dionysus II and Plato, and Plato is kept under house arrest.

Dion is exiled and becomes a student of Plato’s Academy. Syracuse is at war with Carthage within a year, and Plato, who was under house arrest, is able to leave at the outbreak of the war.

Plato then writes his Republic, to which the question of political leadership is fundamentally a question of education. It is here that Plato characterizes the bronze, silver and gold souls, representing individual concern only for personal gratification (bronze souls), the rational individual who strives to conduct his affairs according to existing laws (silver souls), and the individual who functions on the basis of creative reason to better humankind (gold souls).

According to Charles Tate, beginning in 357 BCE Plato’s Academy directed its resources into a two pronged military campaign with the aim that Syracuse was to be seized by Dion and Delphi was to be destroyed by the forces of the native population of Phocis, with aid from Sparta.

The Third Sacred War (356 BCE – 346 BCE) is thus launched between the forces of Thebes and Phocis for control of Delphi.

Dion would eventually take the city of Syracuse, however, less than one year later, in 354 BCE Plato’s ally was assassinated.

The Asia Minor offensive had suffered a crippling setback in 362 BCE when the Spartan king Agesilaus dropped preparations to move his army from Egypt to join the rebel forces. Instead Agesilaus stayed behind in Egypt and militarily supported a rebellion by the Egyptian nobleman Nekht-har-hebi against the successor of Nectanabo I, who had died several months earlier. This rebellion was known as the Straps’ Revolt.

Not only did Agesilaus’ intervention into the succession cost the Satraps’ Revolt the support of the Spartan Army, but it pulled the troops of Nectanabo’s successor from the side of the other armies in Asia Minor, as the Egyptian Pharaoh rushed home to defend his throne.

As a consequence of the departure of the Egyptian army, Datames withdrew his forces, Orontes had already sold out to the Persians by then and the revolt collapsed.

Agesilaus died at seventy years old, the year later in Egypt.

Amun priests would guide and nurture and then bring into their country a man who would fulfil the ambitions of Agesilaus and finally free Egypt from the Persian domination: Alexander the Great. Asked to explain to the Egyptian people who this great liberator was, it is said Alexander’s soldiers gave the simple answer: “he is the son of Nectanabo.”

Historians Plutarch, Curtius, Justin, and Diodorus all report that Alexander was told upon his visit to the Temple of Amun that Amun, not Philip, was his true father.

According to history records, Alexander was recruited to this program through the embassy of Delius of Ephesus, a student of Plato’s Academy.  Throughout Alexander’s career, he was to rely on Plato’s students for his guidance in the extraordinary feat not only of conquering but rebuilding Persia as a humanist empire founded on Greek culture.

This is most clearly shown by him being greatly organized by Xenophon’s The Education of Cyrus the Great.

Alexander did not have complete success, murdered after his conquering of Babylon in his early thirties. However, the cities he had built and through his education of the peoples based on the best of Greek classical culture, he had preserved for later generations the seeds of future renaissances.

In many ways, Alexander the Great was the true continuation of Cyrus the Great, with the important exception that Alexander had a much clearer idea of what was required for a re-education and advancement of culture and civilization.

Alexander the Great would die at a young age, but the accomplishments he would make in the regions that he reconquered from the Persian Empire would continue to have a strong foundation in classical Greek culture, preserving for later generations the basis upon which civilization find its renewal.

One of the best examples of this legacy of Alexander the Great is the Library of Alexandria.

The city of Alexandria was founded in 331 BCE by Alexander in Egypt.

The Library of Alexandria was founded in around 283 BCE by a Greek, which would stand as a center for knowledge as wisdom for nearly 1,000 years.

Eratosthenes, a Greek, famous for calculating the circumference of the Earth, with just a stick, headed the library starting in 255 BCE.

It is at this point that I would like to end with a few thoughts from Plato’s Theatetus, which is a beautiful dialogue written after the Republic and near the end of Plato’s life. It is a dialogue Socrates has with Theatetus, a young boy on the nature of knowledge and wisdom. In real life, Theatetus showed a lot of promise as a brilliant student in the academy but tragically died in battle as a young man.

Plato writes:

“Nothing ever is but is always becoming.

The result, then, I think, is that we (the active and passive elements) are or become, whichever is the case, in relation to one another, since we are bound to one another; and so if a man says anything “is” he must say it is to or in relation to something, and similarly if he says it “becomes”; he must not say it is or becomes absolutely, nor can he accept such a statement from anyone else.

If perception is knowing how do we have knowledge about the future which we have not perceived yet? This is the foundation for any good statesman and development of statecraft. Where does this wisdom arise from then?

Is it not true then that all sensation which reach the soul through the body can be perceived by human beings and also by animals from the moment of birth whereas reflections about these with

reference to their being and usefulness are acquired if at all with difficulty and slowly through many troubles, in others words through education

Is it then possible to attain truth for those who cannot even get as far as being? And will a man ever have knowledge of anything in truth of which he fails to attain?

Then knowledge is not in the sensations, but in the process of reasoning about them; for it is possible to apprehend being and truth by reasoning but not by sensation.

Knowledge is thus true opinion when accompanied by reason, but that of unreasoning true opinion is outside of the sphere of knowledge.

Thus excellence is not a gift but a skill that takes practice. We do not act ‘rightly’ because we are born ‘excellent’ but rather, we achieve ‘excellence’ by acting ‘rightly.’”

Germany’s military ramps up presence in Indo-Pacific

Germany’s Bundeswehr is increasing its military presence in the Indo-Pacific — at a time when war rages closer to home, in Ukraine. But Berlin is seeking to demonstrate cooperation with its “value partners” in Australia.

A war is raging in Europe. This has put a spotlight on Germany’s Bundeswehr and its shortcomings, with leading officers deploring a dramatic shortage of functional equipment.

And yet, Germany’s air force is currently participating in a military exercise on the other side of the globe, in Australia, where it has sent six Eurofighter jets.

It’s an ambitious undertaking. Some 250 German soldiers are involved; in addition to the fighter jets, four transport aircraft and three newly acquired air-to-air refueling tankers have been sent to Darwin in northern Australia, with some 100 tons of material.

From HERE

I own a factory and work with Chinese factory owners and their staff every day. Every business owner I know is actively involved in cost-cutting.

Every factory doesn’t produce every component that goes into a product e.g. a hair clip factory would buy the plastic from one company and the spring from another and assemble it. If it were with an emblem, they would buy that from a third company and stick it on.

So an assembly company = factory.

Infrastructure – In China, almost every product is produced in a region where their suppliers are all nearby. e.g. electronics in Shenzhen, tiles in Foshan, furniture in Shunde, etc. Having suppliers nearby saves time and cost.

Specialization – Since each company makes only their range of products, e.g. a spring manufacturer just makes springs, they focus on more volume for that product, which gives them leverage to bargain on raw material costs.

Volumes – The more volume, the better prices you can negotiate. Also, your machines work more efficiently, the process of work is smoother, all these factors bring down the costs.

Quality – Good or bad, many companies are willing to drop the quality or replace components with the cheaper alternative to save on costs. If you compare prices, you should also compare quality. It’s often that samples are good and production is made a little cheaper.

Margins – In this cut-throat economy, margins are small. Many companies are willing to sell at low / no margins or even at a loss to get a new customer on board or to stay alive and try to see it to the next phase by losing a little but retaining the workers and factory space, etc.

Logistics – China has developed their logistics in a very efficient manner. You can get things cross country in a couple of days or across the city in a couple of hours. Less downtime, higher efficiency = lower costs.

Automation – In many industries, manual labor is being replaced with automation as salaries have risen a lot.

Flexibility – Owners are willing to relocate, change suppliers, hire / fire workers and do what it takes to reduce costs. Most are very hardworking and quite involved in their daily business.

Export rebate – Government support promotes exports and gives export companies a rebate on the value exported. Many companies rely solely on this rebate as their profit margin.

It has taken China years to set up such infrastructure and so it is not easy to replace them by moving to other countries where labor costs are lower as that is only one component of the cost.

Germany tries to turn India against China

China’s claim on Arunachal Pradesh is ‘outrageous’ and its infringement on India’s northern border is unacceptable as it amounts to a violation of the international order, German ambassador to India, Philipp Ackermann, said on Tuesday. 

Read full article →

Beijing’s zero-Covid policy and inward-looking development tactics are among the primary challenges facing the global economy, according to the new German envoy to ChinaGerman ambassador Patricia Flor also raised concerns over the rising tensions across the Taiwan Strait, and criticised China’s “unfair” practices for foreign businesses.  Read full article →

Russia making it’s moves…

Russia is considering a plan to buy as much as $70 billion in yuan and other “friendly” currencies this year to slow the ruble’s surge, before shifting to a longer-term strategy of selling its holdings of the Chinese currency to fund investment.

Article HERE

The Chinese RMB Yuan Has Become Russia’s Reserve Currency. This Is What It Means. - Russia Briefing News

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Huawei has launched two new phones, a laptop, a tablet, and a medically-certified smartwatch in Europe.

Huawei took to IFA 2022 — the ongoing tech fest in Berlin — to announce a range of new devices for the international markets. The Chinese tech firm has suffered quite a blow since its US ban. Once a smartphone powerhouse globally, Huawei is now fighting for a slice of the pie even in its home country. That said, the tech maker is still very much inclined towards launching new phones internationally, even though they don’t come with Google services.

Its latest set of devices is the Huawei Nova 10 series comprising the standard Nova 10 and the Nova 10 Pro. The phones were launched in China in July but are now making their European debut in Berlin.

To stand out, Huawei has flipped the script on the two handsets. Both of them feature a 60MP ultrawide camera on the front. Yes, you read that right. Wow! Get ready for super selfies. The Pro model features another 8MP selfie camera for portrait shots.

Article HERE

Xinjiang exports to US hit two-year high despite Uygur Forced Labour Prevention Act

Industry observers surprised by leap in reported shipments for July, as many believed number would plummet to near zero after law took effect in June. Importers now required to rebut presumption all goods from the tightly controlled far-west region of China are tainted by forced labour.

Article HERE

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It’s absolutely horrible. I was 50, had recently sold my very successful car washes, had a $1MM in my checking account, the big house, kids in private school and life was grand. I was focused on growing my other business (car wash equipment sales) when the manufacturer we represented lost a client that accounted 1/3 of our business, Hurricane Katrina hit (followed by several other hurricanes), and then the great recession. I had stopped taking a salary and started loaning the company money. I was determined to work through this. I even spent my retirement in a last attempt to turn things around. Fast forward, the company was broke, I was broke, and I couldn’t pay the house mortgage. I had to give up the house and shut down the business. A personal bankruptcy soon followed, and then a separation from my wife of 30 years. The stress was unbearable, and I contemplated suicide. The only thing that stopped me was that my dad had taken his life when I was 26, and I knew first hand the pain that my loved ones would bear for my actions.

The worst part is the loss of self confidence and depression, followed by the loss of “friends”. It’s amazing how quickly they disappear! I will say that two friends stuck by me. One in particular would check on me and take me out to ride his motorcycles to help take my mind off of things. I moved into a friend’s rental property and I started looking for work. I had owned my own companies since college, was a past Entrepreneur of the Year finalist, and had never really worked for anyone. At the worst, I was working at a construction company repairing equipment in their yard, collecting food stamps and living alone.

Fast forward a couple of years. My wife and I got back together, we moved to Texas, and I took a job back in my industry (building car washes). We now rent a nice home, and were recently able to buy a nice used car. It gets better every day. I love my job, and I hope to get back into car wash ownership (with investors), while continuing to do what I do.

In summary, there are a couple of important lessons to take from this:

  • Good times don’t last; bad times don’t last.
  • Most of the people who claim to be your friend are only there for the good times.
  • Business associates that you’ve spent millions of dollars with over decades will instantly turn their back on you when the money stops.
  • Don’t ever stop taking care of yourself. Exercise is great for relieving the stress.
  • Face facts. Recognize when you have a losing hand and walk away. And if bankruptcy is inevitable, just do it. Don’t procrastinate and stick your head in the sand.
  • Do not EVER use your retirement money. I used mine to try and save the company, and I am now 60 years old and starting over.
  • Never stop believing in yourself.

First Scotland-China cargo ship link starts with 1 million bottles of whisky | The National

Why only one million, why not two million?

Scotland endorsed China belts and roads. The world should endorse Scotland independence by endorsing their products.

Article HERE

Supporting the CCP

I am born in the 90s, a small town in the southern China.

I was a firm anti-CCP teenager back in my junior high to high school time, social media in China were just taking off, most of the young ones used QQ and nothing more.

That was roughly 15–20 years ago, when a type of Chinese people we today call ‘the public intellectual’ were at their highest activeness. They were well educated and occupied in decently-paid jobs, and often exposed to overseas experience, studying abroad, visiting scholars, doing international business or working in MNCs. They were seen by the general public as people with international vision and are well established.

They loved putting themselves out there and acted like they speak for the benefits of Chinese people, they praise western countries, western political systems, western educations, western innovations and technology, western people, western civilization and basically everything western, in a seemingly neutral, rational, sane and objective tone and manner, following with a comparison with how China does, concluding in a point that the west does everything right while the CCP government does everything wrong.

For instance a very famous case was the piece on the city sewer system in Qingdao, a former German colony in Shandong province of China.

The piece talks about how the sewer system built by the Germans during the colonial time still works today after a century, and how Qingdao never once suffered from city being flooded during heavy rain thanks to the German-built sewer system, while China today doesn’t even have the urban planning capability that the Germans had 100 years ago, leaping forward to how superior the German manufacturing was and still is today, being proved by how Chinese people love German-made cars nowadays, and how China was way behind Germany and can’t never catch up, moving on to how superior the Germans are as a people compared to the Chinese.

Such a piece was largely based on selective facts, some of which were true and made the piece believable in a way that fits people’s common sense, you’ll just think ‘oh yeah Qingdao has never been flooded by pouring rain’, then you read the part about German cars and you go ‘oh right the German cars are indeed most reliable and of excellent quality’, and you read the part comparing German and Chinese people you just go ‘yeah we cannot do what the Germans do, we are so far behind’.

You see the interesting part?

The truth is, the Germans-built part counts for roughly 0.1% of today’s city sewer system, and the one that is running well under Qingdao’s ground was built by Chinese government. The reason that Qingdao doesn’t get flooded is because the city government has implemented a thorough plan based on scientific study to prevent flood in light of heavy rain or hurricane, as well as an emergency action plan, being a coastal city also helps in some cases.

The knowledge of foreign countries was taken advantage by those ‘public intellectuals’ to make themselves look good and admirable, it plays the similar role as luxury items to showcase your social status and gain social currency.

Back in that time, stuff like this was everywhere, from newspaper to magazines, from state media to local television, and of course the internet.

People post and repost such articles on social media, driving a wide spread belief that western world is heaven: the freedom and political superiority of America, the manufacturing of Germany, the taste and gentlemen spirit of UK, the fine art and romance of France and Italy, the craftsmanship of Japan … the list goes on and on.

Such contents usually embedded indications that CCP government lacks of tons quality to pull off what the west can do, and you get the impression that the CCP government isn’t leading the country to a better place.

You find yourself in a hopeless position when you look around and see only western cars, western airplanes, western computers, western applications, western movies, western music, western coca cola … Everything you seem to like or enjoy is from the western world.

And you aspire towards the collective west, and you wonder what if China becomes ‘westernized’:

are we better off if we employ the western system?

isn’t it better if everyone can vote?

will it be better if we can do whatever the law doesn’t forbid, like in the west?

You gradually turn against CCP government, you just can’t understand why you aren’t getting what the west has, why China isn’t going as good as the west, and what is with the great fire wall? is CCP trying to hide its incompetence?

It started as disagreement, leading to oppose, and eventually becomes hatred and anti-China/CCP-ism with a pro-west sentiment.

This is what happened with me.

When I started my university time, I had the chance to finally go abroad on international internships and backpack trips, and see for myself what it truly was out there.

My point of views started to change as I found every country has tons of problems, some are way worse than China.

I visited the *best countries* like USA, Germany, Singapore, and I visited *okay countries* like Thailand, Vietnam, India, Russia, and then I visited *bad as hell countries* like Iran and North Korea, and after graduation from college I moved to New Zealand.

I find that Beijing has filthy streets so does New York, Guangzhou has slums so does LA, I also find that Auckland has crystal clear sky so does Shenzhen, Singapore has amazing skylines so does Shanghai, big cities all suffer from traffic jams and have angry drivers and it has nothing to do with ‘being civilized’, the best urban traffic condition I found was in Pyongyang, no jams, no idiots running in red lights, no angry taxi drivers giving you the finger, just pretty traffic policewomen.

You see, when you go there and actually see it, you pick up the other side of the coin, and you realize how blinded and misjudging you were before.

I finally realized that, China was not doing bad, we were just in a shitty place to start with, and for a fact that the CCP government was doing good in pulling a country of 1.4 billion people from hell to earth.

As Chinese people continuously sharing the benefits of their motherland’s rapid growth, they become wealthier and can afford overseas trips to see the ‘western wonderland’ those public intellectuals once bragged about, and guess what? They are all like ‘oh so this is it? oh ok well…’ With 140 million outbound visits every year, the Chinese quickly gain a full picture of what the world actually looks like, the good and the bad, what others do better and lesser of China.

Putting the puzzles together, it only makes sense to have a fresh, rational and sane understanding of Chinese government and the CCP, they aren’t great for sure, but they have done some really amazing shit to get the Chinese to where they are today, and consider where they begin with and how fast they do it, it is nothing short of spectacular.

I still won’t consider myself a supporter of CCP, but I do appreciate how well they are running this country.

Perhaps some of the western fellows can also go to China and see for yourself, whether it is an evil regime as some of your media insists on, maybe you will also pick up the other side of coin like I did, who knows.

Entire whisky distillery ships out to China

An entire whisky distillery is being shipped out from Scotland to China on Friday.

More than 35 tonnes of equipment, including stills, flooring, control valves and pipework, is leaving Buckie in Moray for the port of Tianjin.

The equipment will be assembled at a facility being built in Inner Mongolia.

The shipment is part of a £3m “design and build” deal signed between Forfar firm Valentine International and China’s Mengtai Group in 2019.

The facility in Ordos will become Inner Mongolia’s first whisky distillery when it opens, probably at the end of this year.

All of the distillery equipment was built by Rothes-based firm Forsyths, which is sending a team of five engineers to supervise assembly.

From HERE

Undeniable Evidence: Covid19 from Fort Detrick CIA lab, released in Wuhan to blame it on China

If you don’t speak Chinese, know a lot about 20th century Chinese history, don’t actively browse Chinese online forums (especially military enthusiast sites like Tiexue), or don’t particularly like Chinese people in general, then nothing about this cartoon or its popularity will make sense to you. In which case, feel free to call it a “CCP/wumao propaganda”, downvote and report this answer, and move on with your life.

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For the rest of you still reading, Year Hare Affair is one of those cartoons I would recommend to a non-Chinese person for entertainment purposes, and learning to see China from the average Chinese person’s perspective. Because both the cartoon and the comic it was based on were created by grassroots netizens, for other grassroots netizens. People like it, because it is relatable.

Far from being a cartoon that waxes poetic about Chairman Mao (who only appeared very briefly in a couple of episodes), or endlessly praises the Communist Party of China, it instead pays respect to the average people of the past who made China what it is today – people who could have been one of our grandparents or uncles/aunts.

One of my favourite episodes for instance is season 2 episode 8, where an unnamed rabbit visits the eagles’ homeland (which alludes to Sino-American cooperation during the brief honeymoon period in the 70s).

There’s a scene in it where the rabbit stands before a magazine vending machine, and is forced to make the difficult choice between a boring science magazine, and a more…”exciting” one.

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The rabbit begrudgingly picks the science magazine.

This scene is basically a metaphor for the kind of choices China had to make on its way to modernisation. The biggest question back then was whether to learn from the west’s superior technology and methods of production (the science magazine), or their systems and way of life (the playboy magazine). China stayed true to its dialectical materialism, and chose to build up its hardware first.

This decision would in turn determine my fathers’ generation’s values and way of life. My parents’ generation gave up their dreams of becoming writers and artists and musicians, in order to become scientists, financial analysts, and other such experts. 科學救國 – “save the nation with the sciences” – as they used to say. “Non-constructive” hobbies (e.g. playing) were discouraged, because getting good grades and learning hard knowledge was all that mattered.

To this day, my parents are proud of my brother for graduating with honours in a global finance degree. They are less approving of my lower-second class journalism degree.

Also in the episode is a conversation between two rabbits, after seeing all that eagle’s country had to offer. One says to the other, since eagle’s home is so great and has everything, why couldn’t they just move there. The other rabbit says that “everything in eagle’s home will always belong to eagle”. Eagle built his home for other eagles, and he had to build it from scratch – good things don’t just fall out of the sky. If the rabbits wanted to make their homeland just as advanced, starting today is always better than starting tomorrow.

And that’s exactly what generations of rabbits did, in real life.

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Same person, 26 years apart.

Season 1 episode 7 was another great one. This one is about how the Soviet Union helped China transform from an agrarian nation to an industrialised one pretty much overnight, due to China’s immense contributions (and casualties) in the Korean War.

Everything in this episode is astonishingly similar to the stories my grandfather told me as a child. He was a university student who studied metallurgy engineering under a Soviet professor who was sent by Stalin himself.

When Khrushchev had an ideological split with Mao in the 60s, the USSR withdrew their technical support, and ordered all the Soviet experts to destroy their research so they wouldn’t fall into Chinese hands. Many Soviet experts, faced with the dilemma of either upholding the Internationalist spirit and doing what’s best for their students, or serving the interests of their own country first, secretly compromised by leaving their notes and diaries in public places, “forgetting” where they put them, and only destroying/finding them later, which was what my grandfather’s teacher did.

Digging for salvageable research papers among piles of burning documents was also historically accurate, and something my grandfather actually did – I couldn’t even begin to imagine his generation’s thirst for knowledge, their desire to make China a better place.

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There are some real tear-jerking moments as well. This one is from episode 5 of the Korean War special (around the 4:54 mark):

Greetings, dearest.

How have you been? Surely you must be dealing with all sorts of problems? Me too. We haven't had any food supplies in this foxhole for days. It is fine though, the Americans probably won't charge up this hill until the next barrage begins. I'll take this opportunity to write you a letter, and have a chat.

Oh dearest, when won't we have to fight in wars anymore? We fought Japan, we fought the Nationalists, now we fight America. Every time we are forced to fight by others. If you do not fight back, they bully you. I too would love to live in peace, but if we do not show some courage, and beg on our knees, we will never enjoy a peaceful existence.

I heard from some of our mates who studied abroad, that America is actually very wealthy. They have many many tall buildings, many many factories, many many vehicles. Do you think you will have so many tall buildings, so many factories, so many vehicles, by your generation?

Haha, I'm overthinking this. I actually hope that when China is beset by wars no more, I will be able to return home with the others, and tend to our crops. I wish...I wish...that everyone will have some land to till, always have a full meal, have new clothes to wear on Chinese New Year, and best of all, meat for every meal!

Dearest, I write this letter to you, in the hopes of knowing whether by your generation, you will be able to have enough to eat, enough to wear, live your lives in peace. Whether you are able to walk out there with your heads held high, without being insulted as "Sick Man of East Asia", whether our dreams of a greater nation would be realised.

I think, if there are so many of us who are cultured and well-learned, maybe China will be able to develop faster?

Oh no! The American artillery is firing. let's end our chat here. If I don't make it back to China, please remember me, who fought for the dreams of a greater nation.

Nowhere in this scene is the greatness of the party, or any particular leader, ever mentioned. It is simply a letter from someone, who could have been one of our grandfathers, to us here in the future, wishing that we could live the kind of good life they never got the chance to experience.

We do live a good life. We don’t have to fight, because they fought for us.

This cartoon covers China’s journey from the Opium War to modern times, from the average Chinese person’s perspective. It isn’t as political as you think, and it actually does a really good job of portraying Chiang Kai-Shek (the “baldy”) and the Nationalists in a generally positive light. It also covers some of the PRC’s less honorable moments, such as its decision to partake in the global weapons market in the 80s. We made a lot of money, sure, but that’s blood money. We’re not America, we’re supposed to be better than this.

The history and politics behind a lot of events are often simplified due to time constraints (each episode is basically 10 minutes long), but I think it’s an interesting way to introduce someone to the big mystery that is China. The first three seasons in particular.

All of the countries are depicted in a comedic and occasionally derogatory manner, including the rabbit, who is somewhat greedy and manipulative. Don’t take it personally if your country is represented by an animal you don’t like. Remember, it’s just a harmless internet cartoon that, as far as I know, is only watched by people in the Sinosphere.

Word of advice: if you want to learn the Chinese language by watching this thing, don’t. It’s filled with in-jokes, memes, expressions and slang only Chinese people understand. It’s an absolute nightmare to translate a lot of it into English, and most of the English subtitled versions out there are just terrible.

I can not speak on behalf of all Indonesians. I will speak for myself and according to my perspective and experience. so, this is what I think about China.

They are a rising superpower. The country that makes a country such as the USA frightened because of its power in Economy, military, and politics. USA’s trade war rival and super influencer in Asia even the world

Cities of skyscraper buildings. We can say that with many metropolitan and megacities like Shanghai and Beijing, China has enough money to build many tall buildings. and It makes sense since the economy is also huge.

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Exporter of Cheap products. A few decades ago we had a stigma that Made-in-China products will break before we use them for the second time. but we now know that China increases the quality of its products even still at a cheap price. many Indonesian importers come to Guangzhou city to buy products in huge amount and resell it in Indonesia. here is the moment when I visit Guangzhou at a shoe store. the owner said many Indonesians came here to buy thousands of pairs of shoes to resell in Indonesia.

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Problem with the environment and garbages. Yeah, many countries struggling with this issue including China and Indonesia. but it’s already being a stigma that China’s city is dirty. even in the reality I Only see it someplace only and it’s very clean in general.

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Problem with Muslims and Islam. Before I came to China. I was afraid I can not perform pray and showing my identity as a Muslim in public. I am also afraid that I can not find any Halal food easily. but it is not that hard. I can find quite many halal restaurants may be owned by Arab of Indian expatriate living there. and people do not care about someone’s beliefs and religion.

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In the conclusion, I will say that in my perspective China is a great country. maybe have some issues as other countries but they still have a very strong and positive impression on me.

Country Blueberry Dessert

As this homey dessert bakes, the batter rises to the top, creating a delicious pudding-like creation that is irresistible!

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Ingredients

  • 1 cup Gold Medal™ all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 3/4 cup fat-free (skim) milk
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted
  • 2 bags (8 oz each) Cascadian Farm™ frozen organic blueberries
  • 2 teaspoons finely chopped crystallized ginger, if desired

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St. Clair’s Defeat

The absolute worst was probably the fight simply known as St. Clair’s Defeat.

It’s sometimes called the Battle of the Wabash after the river it took place on. In early fall 1791, US military units were sent to the ‘West’ to quell an uprising by local Indian tribes. This is the modern-day Midwest. The US was trying to sell land in that area to settlers, in order to pay off war debts and to populate the newly-claimed area and keep a hold on it from Indians and other colonial powers—the British still held forts in the region. The various Indian nations in the area, needless to say, were not pleased with this policy, or the fact that it would require their removal from ancestral lands and territories.

Warriors from these tribes, including mainly the Miami, Shawnee, Sauk, and Lenape/Delaware, had banded together to fight the young United States, and began by harassing and killing settlers migrating into their territory without their approval. The settlers themselves formed a militia, whose responses only set up a cycle of violence. This bloodshed was fairly effective at dissuading others from trying their luck, and that really put a wrench in the US plans.

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So president Washington sent an army to deal with it in 1790. That army was crushed, and ran home in humiliating defeat.

As any student of that era knows, George Washington was not a man to be discouraged by mere defeat. So the next year, he sent a bigger army, this time led by General Arthur St. Clair. St. Clair had not been particularly successful on the battlefield during the Revolution, but as a trusted aide de camp to George Washington, he had made friends in the right places. He was also the governor of the Northwest Territory, so his appointment also sent the message from Washington that it was time to clean up the mess at his own doorstep.

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St. Clair ran the usual playbook: He built a fort or two to establish a supply chain, and sallied forth with 600 regular soldiers, 800 draftees, another 600 local militia, aiming for the Miami capital.

He did not do very well. The army got a late start, and while marching through the thick woods during a November chill, nearly half the force deserted. The remaining 1,100 or so men finally set up a camp along the Wabash River (in present day Ohio, just east of the Indiana line). But St. Clair did not fortify it despite frequent skirmishes.

The Indian confederacy seized its chance. Led by Little Turtle, they encircled the camp in the pre-dawn hours, and snuck in close because the militiamen charged with patrol duty didn’t bother to do it.

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(The crosses on this battle map represent Indian placement)

The attack began at dawn.

Little Turtle was a better tactician than St. Clair, and had experience fighting US forces. He aimed the first attack square at what he knew was the weakest link: The citizen militia. The militia dropped their rifles and fled the field. Now the US forces were down by nearly a third and severely outnumbered… and the battle had just begun.

Luckily, St Clair had an artillery unit nearby, and they began to swing into position to relieve some pressure on the camp. Unfortunately for them, Little Turtle was expecting this, and Native sharpshooters picked off the artillery crews, driving them to flee the field too. The camp was doomed.

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Faced with certain annihilation, there was only one solution: Fix bayonets and charge the enemy to break through the encirclement. One battalion tried this, but the Indians saw it coming and simply retreated into the woods… where they encircled the breaking out unit and slew them almost to a man.

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As noon approached, the besieged Americans made one last desperate charge through the Indian lines into the woods. This time they made enough headway for a few of them to escape to a nearby fort. However, as they fled, their numbers dwindled as the Indians kept picking them off. After a few miles of routing the harried Americans, the Indians let them go and turned back to the camp, where the spoils of war lay with the severely wounded and camp followers, who were nearly all slaughtered.

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Out of the 920 US soldiers who actually fought in the battle, 896 were casualties… a 97% rate. 632 were killed in action. 88% of officers were casualties. To this day this is the worst any American unit has suffered in battle. I nominate it as the worst situation any has faced, because they didn’t manage to save themselves.

One of the survivors was Arthur St. Clair. His unit was so routed they couldn’t even go back for the bodies and spiked cannons. St Clair’s career as a general was obviously over, and his failure spurred the first Congressional investigation of all time.

It also made the US realize that it could not rely on irregular militia or short-term conscripts, and so it formed the volunteer unit called the Legion of the United States. This unit went on to defeat the Indian confederacy a few years later at Fallen Timbers, securing the region for US settlement once and for all.

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Rescue of a kitty

This made me smile with a bit of a tear in the eye. I wish that every single animal in the world would be adopted into a loving home, like this kitty from Bored Panda photos:

This Cat Was Abandoned And This Is His Photo Minutes After Being Rescued:

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The October Game (full text) Ray Bradbury

The October Game || Ray Bradbury

He put the gun back into the bureau drawer and shut the drawer.

No, not that way.

Louise wouldn’t suffer.

It was very important that this thing have, above all duration. Duration through imagination.

How to prolong the suffering?

How, first of all, to bring it about?

Well. The man standing before the bedroom mirror carefully fitted his cuff-links together.

He paused long enough to hear the children run by swiftly on the street below, outside this warm two-storey house, like so many grey mice the children, like so many leaves.

By the sound of the children you knew the calendar day.

By their screams you knew what evening it was.

You knew it was very late in the year.

October.

The last day of October, with white bone masks and cut pumpkins and the smell of dropped candle wax.

No.

Things hadn’t been right for some time.

October didn’t help any.

If anything it made things worse.

He adjusted his black bow-tie.

If this were spring, he nodded slowly, quietly, emotionlessly, at his image in the mirror, then there might be a chance.

But tonight all the world was burning down into ruin.

There was no green spring, none of the freshness, none of the promise.

There was a soft running in the hall.

“That’s Marion”, he told himself. “My little one”.

All eight quiet years of her.

Never a word. Just her luminous grey eyes and her wondering little mouth.

His daughter had been in and out all evening, trying on various masks, asking him which was most terrifying, most horrible. They had both finally decided on the skeleton mask.

It was “just awful!” It would “scare the beans” from people!

Again he caught the long look of thought and deliberation he gave himself in the mirror.

He had never liked October.

Ever since he first lay in the autumn leaves before his grandmother’s house many years ago and heard the wind and sway the empty trees.

It has made him cry, without a reason.

And a little of that sadness returned each year to him.

It always went away with spring.

But, it was different tonight.

There was a feeling of autumn coming to last a million years.

There would be no spring.

He had been crying quietly all evening.

It did not show, not a vestige of it, on his face.

It was all hidden somewhere and it wouldn’t stop.

A rich syrupy smell of sweets filled the bustling house.

Louise had laid out apples in new skins of toffee; there were vast bowls of punch fresh-mixed, stringed apples in each door, scooped, vented pumpkins peering triangularly from each cold window.

There was a water tub in the centre of the living room, waiting, with a sack of apples nearby, for dunking to begin.

All that was needed was the catalyst, the inpouring of children, to start the apples bobbing, the stringed apples to penduluming in the crowded doors, the sweets to vanish, the halls to echo with fright or delight, it was all the same.

Now, the house was silent with preparation.

And just a little more than that.

Louise had managed to be in every other room save the room he was in today.

It was her very fine way of intimating, Oh look Mich, see how busy I am! So busy that when you walk into a room I’m in there’s always something I need to do in another room!

Just see how I dash about!

For a while he had played a little game with her, a nasty childish game.

When she was in the kitchen then he came to the kitchen saying, “I need a glass of water.”

After a moment, he standing, drinking water, she like a crystal witch over the caramel brew bubbling like a prehistoric mudpot on the stove, she said, “Oh, I must light the pumpkins!” and she rushed to the living room to make the pumpkins smile with light.

He came after, smiling, “I must get my pipe.”

“Oh, the cider!” she had cried, running to the dining room.

“I’ll check the cider,” he had said.

But when he tried following she ran to the bathroom and locked the door.

He stood outside the bathroom door, laughing strangely and senselessly, his pipe gone cold in his mouth, and then, tired of the game, but stubborn, he waited another five minutes.

There was not a sound from the bath.

And lest she enjoy in any way knowing that he waited outside, irritated, he suddenly jerked about and walked upstairs, whistling merrily.

At the top of the stairs he had waited.

Finally he had heard the bathroom door unlatch and she had come out and life below-stairs and resumed, as life in a jungle must resume once a terror has passed on away and the antelope return to their spring.

Now, as he finished his bow-tie and put his dark coat there was a mouserustle in the hall.

Marion appeared in the door, all skeletons in her disguise. “How do I look, Papa?”

“Fine!”

From under the mask, blonde hair showed.

From the skull sockets small blue eyes smiled.

He sighed.

Marion and Louise, the two silent denouncers of his virility, his dark power. 

alchemy had there been in Louise that took the dark of a dark man and bleached the dark brown eyes and black hair and washed and bleached the ingrown baby all during the period before birth until the child was born, Marion, blonde, blue-eyed, ruddy-cheeked?

Sometimes he suspected that Louise had conceived the child as an idea, completely asexual, an immaculate conception of contemptuous mind and cell.

As a firm rebuke to him she had produced a child in her own image, and, to top it, she had somehow fixed the doctor so he shook his head and said, “Sorry, Mr. Wilder, your wife will never have another child.

This is the last one.” “And I wanted a boy,” Mich had said eight years ago.

He almost bent to take hold of Marion now, in her skull mask.

He felt an inexplicable rush of pity for her, because she had never had a father’s love, only the crushing, holding love of a loveless mother.

But most of all he pitied himself, that somehow he had not made the most of a bad birth, enjoyed his daughter for herself, regardless of her not being dark and a son and like himself.

Somewhere he had missed out.

Other things being equal, he would have loved the child.

But Louise hadn’t wanted a child, anyway, in the first place.

She had been frightened of the idea of birth.

He had forced the child on her, and from that night, all through the year until the agony of the birth itself, Louise had lived in another part of the house.

She had expected to die with the forced child.

It had been very easy for Louise to hate this husband who so wanted a son that he gave his only wife over to the mortuary. But — Louise had lived.

And in triumph!

Her eyes, the day he came to the hospital, were cold. I’m alive they said.

And I have a blonde daughter! Just look!

And when he had put out a hand to touch, the mother had turned away to conspire with her new pink daughter-child — away from that dark forcing murderer.

It had all been so beautifully ironic.

His selfishness deserved it. But now it was October again.

There had been other Octobers and when he thought of the long winter he had been filled with horror year after year to think of the endless months mortared into the house by an insane fall of snow, trapped with a woman and child, neither of whom loved him, for months on end.

During the eight years there had been respites.

In spring and summer you got out, walked, picnicked; these were desperate solutions to the desperate problem of a hated man.

But, in winter, the hikes and picnics and escapes fell away with leaves.

Life, like a tree, stood empty, the fruit picked, the sap run to earth.

Yes, you invited people in, but people were hard to get in winter with blizzards and all.

Once he had been clever enough to save for a Florida trip.

They had gone south.

He had walked in the open.

But now, the eighth winter coming, he knew things were finally at an end.

He simply could not wear this one through.

There was an acid walled off in him that slowly had eaten through tissue and bone over the years, and now, tonight, it would reach the wild explosive in him and all would be over!

There was a mad ringing of the bell below.

In the hall, Louise went to see. Marion, without a word, ran down to greet the first arrivals.

There were shouts and hilarity.

He walked to the top of the stairs.

Louise was below, taking wraps.

She was tall and slender and blonde to the point of whiteness, laughing down upon the new children.

He hesitated. What was all this? The years? The boredom of living? Where had it gone wrong?

Certainly not with the birth of the child alone.

But it had been a symbol of all their tensions, he imagined. His jealousies and his business failures and all the rotten rest of it.

Why didn’t he just turn, pack a suitcase, and leave? No. Not without hurting Louise as much as she had hurt him.

It was simple as that.

Divorce wouldn’t hurt her at all. It would simply be an end to numb indecision. If he thought divorce would give her pleasure in any way he would stay married the rest of his life to her, for damned spite.

No he must hurt her. F

igure some way, perhaps, to take Marion away from her, legally. Yes. That was it. That would hurt most of all.

To take Marion away. “Hello down there!”

He descended the stairs beaming. Louise didn’t look up. “Hi, Mr Wilder!” The children shouted, waved, as he came down.

By ten o’clock the doorbell had stopped ringing, the apples were bitten from stringed doors, the pink faces were wiped dry from the apple bobbling, napkins were smeared with toffee and punch, and he, the husband, with pleasant efficiency had taken over.

He took the party right out of Louise’s hands.

He ran about talking to the twenty children and the twelve parents who had come and were happy with the special spiked cider he had fixed them.

He supervised pin the tail on the donkey, spin the bottle, musical chairs, and all the rest, amid fits of shouting laughter.

Then, in the triangular-eyed pumpkin shine, all house lights out, he cried, “Hush! Follow me!” tiptoeing towards the cellar.

The parents, on the outer periphery of the costumed riot, commented to each other, nodding at the clever husband, speaking to the lucky wife.

How well he got on with children, they said. The children, crowded after the husband, squealing.

“The cellar!” he cried. “The tomb of the witch!”

More squealing. He made a mock shiver. “Abandon hope all ye who enter here!”

The parents chuckled.

One by one the children slid down a slide which Mich had fixed up from lengths of table-section, into the dark cellar. He hissed and shouted ghastly utterances after them. A wonderful wailing filled dark pumpkin-lighted house. Everybody talked at once. Everybody but Marion.

She had gone through all the party with a minimum of sound or talk; it was all inside her, all the excitement and joy.

What a little troll, he thought.

With a shut mouth and shiny eyes she had watched her own party, like so many serpentines thrown before her. Now, the parents.

With laughing reluctance they slid down the short incline, uproarious, while little Marion stood by, always wanting to see it all, to be last.

Louise went down without help. He moved to aid her, but she was gone even before he bent. The upper house was empty and silent in the candle-shine. Marion stood by the slide.

“Here we go,” he said, and picked her up. They sat in a vast circle in the cellar. Warmth came from the distant bulk of the furnace.

The chairs stood in a long line along each wall, twenty squealing children, twelve rustling relatives, alternatively spaced, with Louise down at the far end, Mich up at this end, near the stairs.

He peered but saw nothing. They had all grouped to their chairs, catch-as-you-can in the blackness. The entire programme from here on was to be enacted in the dark, he as Mr. Interlocutor.

There was a child scampering, a smell of damp cement, and the sound of the wind out in the October stars. “Now!” cried the husband in the dark cellar.

“Quiet!” Everybody settled. The room was black black.

Not a light, not a shine, not a glint of an eye. A scraping of crockery, a metal rattle. “The witch is dead,” intoned the husband. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” said the children.

“The witch is dead, she has been killed, and here is the knife she was killed with.”

He handed over the knife. It was passed from hand to hand, down and around the circle, with chuckles and little odd cries and comments from the adults.

“The witch is dead, and this is her head,” whispered the husband, and handed an item to the nearest person.

“Oh, I know how this game is played,” some child cried, happily, in the dark. “He gets some old chicken innards from the icebox and hands them around and says, ‘These are her innards!’

And he makes a clay head and passes it for her head, and passes a soup bone for her arm. And he takes a marble and says, ‘This is her eye!’ And he takes some corn and says, ‘This is her teeth!’ And he takes a sack of plum pudding and gives that and says, ‘This is her stomach!’ I know how this is played!” “Hush, you’ll spoil everything,” some girl said. “The witch came to harm, and this is her arm,” said Mich. “Eeeeeeeeeeee!”

The items were passed and passed, like hot potatoes, around the cirle. Some children screamed, wouldn’t touch them.

Some ran from their chairs to stand in the centre of the cellar until the grisly items had passed.

“Aw, it’s only chicken insides,” scoffed a boy. “Come back, Helen!” Shot from hand to hand, with small scream after scream, the items went down, down, to be followed by another and another.

“The witch cut apart, and this is her heart,” said the husband.

Six or seven items moving at once through the laughing, trembling dark. Louise spoke up. “Marion, don’t be afraid; it’s only play.”

Marion didn’t say anything. “Marion?” asked Louise. “Are you afraid?” Marion didn’t speak. “She’s all right,” said the husband.

“She’s not afraid.”

On and on the passing, the screams, the hilarity. The autumn wind sighed about the house. And he, the husband stood at the head of the dark cellar, intoning the words, handing out the items. “Marion?” asked Louise again, from far across the cellar.

Everybody was talking. “Marion?” called Louise.

Everybody quieted. “Marion, answer me, are you afraid?”

Marion didn’t answer.

The husband stood there, at the bottom of the cellar steps.

Louise called “Marion, are you there?”

No answer.

The room was silent.

“Where’s Marion?” called Louise.

“She was here”, said a boy. “Maybe she’s upstairs.”

“Marion!”

No answer.

It was quiet.

Louise cried out, “Marion, Marion!”

“Turn on the lights,” said one of the adults.

The items stopped passing.

The children and adults sat with the witch’s items in their hands.

“No.” Louise gasped.

There was a scraping of her chair, wildly, in the dark.

“No. Don’t turn on the lights, oh, God, God, God, don’t turn them on, please, don’t turn on the lights, don’t!”

Louise was shrieking now.

The entire cellar froze with the scream.

Nobody moved.

Everyone sat in the dark cellar, suspended in the suddenly frozen task of this October game; the wind blew outside, banging the house, the smell of pumpkins and apples filled the room with the smell of the objects in their fingers while one boy cried, “I’ll go upstairs and look!” and he ran upstairs hopefully and out around the house, four times around the house, calling, “Marion, Marion, Marion!” over and over and at last coming slowly down the stairs into the waiting breathing cellar and saying to the darkness, “I can’t find her.”

Then ……

…some idiot turned on the lights.

The world continues to evolve, but cats stay the same

"Why did the majority of Taiwanese vote for the DDP?"

Excellent question !

I'll have to meditate deeply before giving you an acceptable & palatable answer...

I suggest for now that they have been mesmerized by the so-called shining liberal world

because they drunk the Kool-Aid especially prepared for them by the spin doctors of the KFC-AZAEL (Kakistocratic Feudal Conglomerate of the Anglo-Zio-American EstabLishment) who are truly geniuses in that domain. But I'm aware of the weakness of that answer because it's tantamount to write that they have been stupid. Alas ! Let's say that they are waking up slowly since the graduated answer by Beijing since August 3, 2022 and keeping on...

But I persist, The Taiwanese are waking up and realize that their future is with Beijing !

Arrivederci ! Quan

I’m just swamped. This is going to be a tad unusual post. Heavy on cats. Light on food. Hopefully no one will get too upset with me.

Jorge Guinle died of old age after burning all his money on fun, basically. He once said that he lost all his money because he thought he’d last about 70 years but he only died at 88.

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In fact, he was no longer a billionaire after his family lost the concession of the Port of Santos in 1972. He was still very rich for years, but no longer had a steady source of income.

In his final years, after selling everything he had, he lived for free – as a favor – in Copacabana Palace, a famous luxury hotel formerly owned by his family. He got a very small pension from the government and would work as a tourist guide and sometimes appear in advertisements.

I know people who knew him and told me he would happily pay for other people’s bills in restaurants and nightclubs and do things like send trucks full of flowers to women he was interested in.

He had no regrets though.

His life was well lived, he studied philosophy in Paris, dated famous actresses in Hollywood (including Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth), met and befriended his favorite jazz musicians, who he’d fly to Rio to attend his parties.

Not only that, he had a semi-official role during and after WWII as a liaison between the United States and Brazil. He was asked by Nelson Rockefeller, working for the US government, to help influence Brazil towards the American side and away from the influence of the nazis.

Meanwhile, he’d also work for the Brazilian government spreading the word in the US about Brazil and Rio de Janeiro. He’d advise Hollywood studios about Brazil, fixing scripts that mentioned the country and so on. He was room mates with Errol Flynn and partied with Orson Welles, Howard Hughes and Ronald Reagan.

A fascinating character. People say he was a genuinely nice, interesting, sensitive person, not just a flashy playboy.

They don’t make playboys like that anymore.

Titan

I knew Titan loved me one day after my ex broke things off.

She’d cheated on me (multiple times I later learned) and was both shacking up with her new guy but still living in my house. Needless to say I was stressed, depressed, and a bundle of nerves.

Titan had always liked my ex (we’d adopted him and her cat at the same time so he’d known us both his whole adopted life). But he was MY GUY and I knew it unequivocally when Erika tried to pet him about a week after the whole mess came down.

He hissed and ran away from her…straight to me for comfort and snuggles. He knew she was the reason I wasn’t doing well and he wasn’t about to put up with it. She moved out a couple days later. When even the animals think you’re a terrible person it’s hard to stay there.

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He’s been my best buddy ever since.

Fox News

 Former President Trump on Monday said that his Mar-a-Lago home in Florida was “under siege” by a “large group” of FBI agents conducting a search warrant.

“Nothing like this has ever happened to a President of the United States before. After working and cooperating with the relevant Government agencies, this unannounced raid on my home was not necessary or appropriate,” Trump said. “It is prosecutorial misconduct, the weaponization of the Justice System, and an attack by Radical Left Democrats who desperately don’t want me to run for President in 2024, especially based on recent polls, and who will likewise do anything to stop Republicans and Conservatives in the upcoming Midterm Elections.”

“Such an assault could only take place in broken, Third-World Countries. Sadly, America has now become one of those Countries, corrupt at a level not seen before,” Trump said, alleging that the FBI agents broke into his safe. 

Thomas Lucipurr Lipshaw

Yes, this is my cat, Thomas Lucipurr Lipshaw, he is now 4 years old but this happened when he was 1 1/2. An ex of mine was working with this woman who was bragging at work about having her cat put down for being destructive, i was called about it ten minutes later, i got the information told my then girlfriend id be making a call and after work id fill her in. Called the vets office she surrendered the cat to. No clue why i did this, i never really interacted with cats before. Well i got them to agree to hold him for me until tomorrow morning.

Next morning this was what came home with us, his name Thomas, he supposedly weighed 9 lbs but he was way too skinny, i could feel his vertebrae and see a few ribs.

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his first day with me was spent under the couch while i chatted with him, peeked under now and again to check on him and offer some tasty morsels.

well turns out he was abused, and then my now ex was mean to him a LOT. so after a lot of drama i threw her out, and he became my cat and mine alone. My son of fur fang and claw, hes a daddy’s cat, he will actually hit me if i begin getting worried about stupid shit, he will put a paw on my arm or hand if i am crying, he sleeps on my bed with me, and always wants to be held.

Here he is today…

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WWII redux: The endpoint of US policy

The threatened peoples of East Asia and Europe can stop the US drive to restore its global domination
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Found HERE

“This is not going to be a war of Ukraine and Russia. This is going to be a European war, a full-fledged war.” So spoke Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky just days after berating the US for beating the drums of war.

It is not hard to imagine how Zelensky’s words must have fallen on those European ears that were attentive. His warning surely conjured up images of World War II when tens of millions of Europeans and Russians perished.

Zelensky’s words echoed those of Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte on the other side of the world at the eastern edge of the great Eurasian landmass:When elephants fight, it is the grass that gets trampled flat.” We can be sure that Duterte, like Zelensky, had in mind World War II, which also consumed tens of millions of lives in East Asia.

The United States is stoking tensions in both Europe and East Asia, with Ukraine and Taiwan as the current flashpoints on the doorsteps of Russia and China, which are the targeted nations.

Let us be clear at the outset. As we shall see, the endpoint of this process is not for the US to do battle with Russia or China, but to watch China and Russia fight it out with their neighbors to the ruin of both sides.

The US is to “lead from behind” – as safely and remotely as can be arranged.

To make sense of this and react properly, we must be very clear-eyed about the goal of the US.

  • Neither Russia nor China has attacked or even threatened the US.
  • Nor are they in a position to do so – unless one believes that either is ready to embark on a suicidal nuclear war.

Why should the US elite and its media pour out a steady stream of anti-China and anti-Russia invective? Why the steady eastward march of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization since the end of the first Cold War?

The goal of the US is crystal clear – it regards itself as the Exceptional Nation and entitled to be the No 1 power on the planet, eclipsing all others.

This goal is most explicitly stated in the well-known Wolfowitz Doctrine drawn shortly after the end of the first Cold War in 1992. It proclaimed that the United States’ “first objective is to prevent the re-emergence of a new rival, either on the territory of the former Soviet union or elsewhere….”

It stated that no regional power must be allowed to emerge with the power and resources “sufficient to generate global power.” It stated frankly that “we must maintain the mechanism for deterring potential competitors from even aspiring to a larger regional or global power” (emphasis mine).

The Wolfowitz Doctrine is but the latest in a series of such proclamations that have proclaimed global domination as the goal of US foreign policy since 1941, the year before the US entered World War II. This lineage is documented clearly in a book by the Quincy Institute’s Stephen Wertheim, “Tomorrow, the World: The Birth of US Global Supremacy.

Target No 1: China

China’s economy is No 1 in terms of PPP-GDP (gross domestic product based on purchasing power parity) according to the International Monetary Fund and has been since November 2014. It is growing faster than the US economy and shows no signs of slowing down.

In a sense, China has already won by this metric, since economic power is the ultimate basis of all power.

But what about a military defeat of China? Can the US with its present vastly superior armed forces bring that about? Historian Alfred McCoy answers that question in the way most do these days, with a clear “no”:

“The most volatile flashpoint In Beijing’s grand strategy for breaking Washington’s geopolitical grip over Eurasia lies in the contested waters between China’s coast and the Pacific littoral, which the Chinese call ‘the first island chain.’

“But China’s clear advantage in any struggle over that first Pacific island chain is simply distance.…The tyranny of distance, in other words, means that the US loss of that first island chain, along with its axial anchor on Eurasia’s Pacific littoral, should only be a matter of time.”

Certainly the US elites recognize this problem. Do they have a solution?

Moreover, that is not the end of the “problem” for the US. There are other powerful countries, such as Japan, or rapidly rising economies in East Asia, easily the most dynamic economic region in the world. These too will become peer competitors, and in the case of Japan, it already has been a competitor, both before World War II and during the 1980s.

Target No 2: Russia

If we hop over to the western edge of Eurasia, we see that the US has a similar “problem” when it comes to Russia. Here too, the US cannot defeat Russia in a conventional conflict, nor have US sanctions been able to bring it down. How can the US surmount this obstacle?

And as in the case of East Asia, the US faces another economic competitor, Germany, or more accurately, the European Union with Germany at its core. How is the US to deal with this dual threat?

One clue comes in the response of President Joe Biden to both the tension over Taiwan and that over Ukraine. Biden has said repeatedly that his administration will not send US combat troops to fight Russia over Ukraine or to fight China over Taiwan. But it will send materiel and weapons, and also “advisers.”

And here too the US has other peer competitors, most notably Germany, which has been the target of US tariffs. Economist Michael Hudson puts it succinctly in a penetrating essay: “America’s real adversaries are its European and other allies: The US aim is to keep them from trading with China and Russia.”

Postwar rise to power

Such “difficulties” for the US were solved once before – in World War II.

One way of looking at that conflict is that it was a combination of two great regional wars, one in East Asia and one in Europe. In Europe the US was minimally involved as Russia, the core of the USSR, battled it out with Germany, sustaining great damage to life and economy. Both Germany and Russia were economic basket cases when the war was over, two countries lying in ruins.

The US provided weapons and materiel to Russia but was minimally involved militarily, only entering late in the game. The same happened in East Asia, with Japan in the role of Germany and China in the role of Russia.

Both Japan and China were devastated in the same way as were Russia and Europe. This was not an unconscious strategy on the part of the United States. As Harry Truman, then a senator, declared in 1941: “If we see that Germany is winning the war, we ought to help Russia; and if that Russia is winning, we ought to help Germany, and in that way let them kill as many as possible.”

At the end of it all, the US emerged as the most powerful economic and military power on the planet. McCoy spells it out:

“Like all past imperial hegemons, US global power has similarly rested on geopolitical dominance over Eurasia, now home to 70% of the world’s population and productivity. After the Axis alliance of Germany, Italy and Japan failed to conquer that vast landmass, the Allied victory in World War II allowed Washington, as historian John Darwin put it, to build its ‘colossal imperium … on an unprecedented scale,’ becoming the first power in history to control the strategic axial points ‘at both ends of Eurasia.’

“As a critical first step, the US formed the NATO alliance in 1949, establishing major military installations in Germany and naval bases in Italy to ensure control of the western side of Eurasia.

“After its defeat of Japan, as the new overlord of the world’s largest ocean, the Pacific, Washington dictated the terms of four key mutual-defense pacts in the region with Japan, South Korea, the Philippines and Australia, and so acquired a vast range of military bases along the Pacific littoral that would secure the eastern end of Eurasia.

“To tie the two axial ends of that vast landmass into a strategic perimeter, Washington ringed the continent’s southern rim with successive chains of steel, including three navy fleets, hundreds of combat aircraft, and most recently, a string of 60 drone bases stretching from Sicily to the Pacific island of Guam.”

The US was able to become the dominant power on the planet because all peer competitors were left in ruins by the two great regional wars in Europe and East Asia, wars that are grouped under the heading of World War II.

If Europe is plunged into a war of Russia against the EU powers with the US “leading from behind” with materiel and weapons, who will benefit? And if East Asia is plunged into a war of China against Japan and whatever allies it can drum up, with the US “leading from behind,” who will benefit?

It is pretty clear that such a replay of World War II will benefit the US. In World War II, while Eurasia suffered tens of millions of deaths, the US suffered about 400,000 – a terrible toll certainly but nothing like that seen in Eurasia.

And with the economies and territories of Eurasia, East and West, in ruins, the US will again emerge on top, in the catbird seat, and able to dictate terms to the world. World War II redux.

But what about the danger of nuclear war growing out of such conflicts? The US has a history of nuclear “brinksmanship,” going back to the earliest post-World War II days. It is a country that has shown itself willing to risk nuclear holocaust.

Are there US policymakers criminal enough to see this policy of provocation through to the end? I will leave that to the reader to answer.

The peoples of East and West Eurasia are the ones who will suffer most in this scenario. And they are the ones who can stop the madness by living peacefully with Russia and China rather than serving as cannon fodder for the US.

There are clear signs of dissent from the European “allies” of the US, especially Germany, but the influence of the US remains powerful. Germany and many other countries are after all occupied by tens of thousands of US troops, their media heavily influenced by the US and with the organization that commands European troops, NATO, under US command. Which way will it go?

In East Asia the situation is the same. Japan is the key, but the hatred of China among the Elite is intense. Will the Japanese people and the other peoples of East Asia be able to put the brakes on the drive to war?

Some say that a two-front conflict like this is US overreach. But certainly, if war is raging on or near the territories of both Russia and China, there is little likelihood that one can aid the other.

Given the power of modern weaponry, this impending world war will be much more damaging than World War II by far. The criminality that is on the way to unleashing it is almost beyond comprehension.

China’s top chip maker SMIC beats earnings estimates despite threat of more US sanctions

  • Semiconductor Manufacturing International Corp reported revenue growth of 41.6 per cent for the June quarter
  • Net profits were down 25 per cent from the same period last year, as gross margin rose to 39.4 per cent

Semiconductor Manufacturing International Corp (SMIC) reported better-than-expected earnings for the June quarter, as China’s top chip maker faces up to rising risks of harsher US sanctions.

The company reported on Thursday that revenue during the three-month period rose 41.6 per cent year-on-year to reach US$1.9 billion, slightly better than Bloomberg’s consensus estimates of US$1.89 billion.

Net profits came in at US$514.3 million under global accounting standards, down 25 per cent from the same period last year, compared with US$447.2 million in the previous quarter. This was better than Bloomberg’s consensus estimates of US$469 million.

Article HERE

China Creates Its Most Powerful General-Purpose GPU: Meet Biren BR100 With 77 Billion Transistors on 7nm, Faster Than NVIDIA Ampere In AI

Birentech, a small enterprise based in Shanghai, China, has released the country’s most powerful General-Purpose GPU, the Biren BR100.

China Makes Its Most Powerful General-Purpose GPU To Date, The Birentech BR100 With 77 Billion Transistors

The Birentech BR100 is the flagship General-Purpose GPU that China has to offer, featuring an in-house GPU architecture that utilizes a 7nm process node and houses 77 Billion transistors within its die. The GPU has been fabricated on TSMC’s 2.5D CoWoS design and also comes packed with 300 MB of on-chip cache, 64 GB of HBM2e with a memory bandwidth of 2.3 TB/s, and support for PCIe Gen 5.0 (CXL interconnect protocol).

Article HERE

The Majority of U.S. Voters Cannot Find Taiwan on a Map

Most American people are uneducated and simply accept the crusader media propaganda to like or hate a country , a religion, and people. This make our mission to spread the truth very important. 

In an Aug. 6-7 survey experiment conducted during heavy media coverage of Pelosi’s trip to the island, 34% of U.S. voters could find Taiwan on a blank map of Asia. That’s the same as the share of voters who said they heard “a lot” about the California Democrat’s trip there last week. It’s also the same fraction of the electorate that could identify Ukraine on a map when asked a few weeks before Russia’s invasion of the country.

Those who could identify Taiwan were more likely to have heard news coverage about the island recently, with 86% saying they had heard at least something about Pelosi’s trip — though the story did manage to break through to 71% of the general electorate. 

Those who could find Taiwan were also significantly more likely to have heard details of China’s retaliation, with more than three-quarters hearing about China’s missile launches as part of naval drills and dispatching of fighter jets across the middle of the Taiwan Strait, compared with 60% and 56% of all voters, respectively, for those developments.

-Chua

Article HERE

Ukraine Using American-Supplied Weapons to ATTACK NUCLEAR POWER PLANT

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Ukraine Using American-Supplied Weapons to ATTACK NUCLEAR POWER PLANT

The Ukrainian Army is using American-made and supplied Guided Multiple Launch Rocket Systems (GMLRS) to fire shells at the Zaporozhye nuclear power plant in Ukraine, which is occupied by Russian Troops.

The image above shows a blast fragment from an American GMLRS shell “Actuator” recovered after it exploded on the grounds of the Nuclear Plant Thursday.  The English language on the Actuator manufacturing label shows the part number, serial number, the date of manufacture, and says “Actuator Module Assembly” on it.

The Russian Army won control of the Nuclear Power Plant early in its Special Military Operation to de-militarize and De-Nazify Ukraine.  The nuclear power plant is the largest in Europe, with six nuclear reactors.  Russia conquered it in March of this year, and has safeguarded the plant ever since.

The reason Russia took the plant is that if there was a nuclear accident with that plant, radioactive contamination would be carried by local prevailing winds, directly into Russia.  The Russians don’t want any radiation floating into their country.

But early this week, Ukraine began doing the unthinkable: Deliberately firing artillery shells  at the plant; then made the absurd claim that Russia was firing – at their own Russian troops!

Russia even invited the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) to come to the plant with inspectors to see exactly WHO it is that is firing at the plant.  Russia said they will bring the inspectors in safely and allow them to see for themselves who is attacking the plant.

Then things got an order of magnitude worse:

Russia publicly stated that Ukraine is attempting to hit the spent fuel cooling facilities on the grounds of that plant which will cause what they described as a “nuclear catastrophe worse than Chernobyl.”

By doing this, Russia says Ukraine is attempting to use the plant as a sort of Tactical Nuclear Weapon.   If  Ukraine can cause a nuclear accident, the levels of radiation would be very much akin to the detonation of a battlefield tactical nuke.

SO . . . . .

Russia has told Ukraine and the rest of the world that “If Ukraine causes a nuclear catastrophe by shelling the Zaporozhye nuclear power plant, Russia will consider such an act to be “nuclear terrorism” and, under Russia’s long-established military doctrine, such nuclear errorism would require a Russian nuclear response; Russia will respond to Ukraine’s “nuclear terrorism” by firing Russian Tactical Nuclear Weapons at Ukraine.”

Readers may recall that early in the Special Military Operation, illegitimate president Joe Biden publicly commented that NATO would not get involved in the Russia-Ukraine situation “unless Russia uses Biological, Chemical, or Nuclear weapons.”   If such weapons are used, the US and NATO say they will immediately go to war in Ukraine.

Hal Turner Analysis and Opinion

We in the West are now sitting on a sort of ticking time bomb.  Russia has made its position crystal clear.  If Ukraine causes a nuclear catastrophe, Russia will treat it as nuclear terrorism and hit back with tactical nukes.

The US/NATO has said they will enter the Ukraine war if such weapons are used.   And so, as you read this, the only thing standing in the way of the outbreak of actual nuclear world war 3, is some dumb Ukrainian, firing GMLRS at a nuclear power plant.

Forgive me if I think we’re all doomed.

Witold Pilecki

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Dude was already a war hero before he decided to sneak into Auschwitz. As a young man, Pilecki had been a decorated officer in the Polish-Soviet War of 1918.

After the war, Pilecki moved to the Polish countryside, married a schoolteacher, and had two kids. He enjoyed riding horses and wearing fancy hats and smoking cigars.

Life was simple and good.

Then that whole Hitler thing happened, and before Poland could get both its boots on, the Nazis had already Blitzkrieged through half the country.

Poland lost its entire territory in a little more than a month. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight: while the Nazis invaded in the west, the Soviets invaded in the east.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place—except the rock was a megalomaniacal mass murderer trying to conquer the world and the hard place was rampant, senseless genocide.

Early on, the Soviets were actually far crueler than the Nazis. They had done this shit before, you know—the whole “overthrow a government and enslave a population to your faulty ideology” thing. The Nazis were still somewhat imperialist virgins

In those first months of the war, it’s estimated that the Soviets rounded up over a million Polish citizens and sent them east. A million people, in a matter of months, just gone. Some didn’t stop until they hit the gulags in Siberia; others were found in mass graves decades later. Many are still unaccounted for to this day.

Pilecki fought in those battles—against both the Germans and the Soviets.

And after their defeat, he and fellow Polish officers started an underground resistance group in Warsaw. The Secret Polish Army

In the spring of 1940, the Secret Polish Army got wind of the fact that the Germans were building a massive prison complex outside some backwater town in the southern part of the country. The Germans named this new prison complex Auschwitz.

By the summer of 1940, thousands of military officers and leading Polish nationals were disappearing from western Poland. Fears arose among the resistance that the same mass incarceration that had occurred in the east with the Soviets was now on the menu in the west. Pilecki and his crew suspected that Auschwitz, a prison the size of a small town, was likely involved in the disappearances and that it might already house thousands of former Polish soldiers.

That’s when Pilecki volunteered to sneak into Auschwitz. Initially, it was a rescue mission—he would allow himself to get arrested, and once there, he would organize with other Polish soldiers, coordinate a mutiny, and break out of the prison camp.

It was a mission so suicidal that he might as well have asked his commander permission to drink a bucket of bleach. His superiors thought he was crazy, and told him as much.

But, as the weeks went by, the problem only grew worse: thousands of elite Poles were disappearing, and Auschwitz was still a huge blind spot in the Allied intelligence network. The Allies had no idea what was going on there and little chance of finding out. Eventually, Pilecki’s commanders relented.

One evening, at a routine checkpoint in Warsaw, Pilecki let himself be arrested by the SS for violating curfew. And soon, he was on his way to Auschwitz, the only man known ever to have voluntarily entered a Nazi concentration camp.

Once he got there, he saw that the reality of Auschwitz was far worse than anyone had suspected. Prisoners were routinely shot in roll call lineups for transgressions as minor as fidgeting or not standing up straight.

The manual labor was grueling and endless. Men were literally worked to death, often performing tasks that were useless or meant nothing. The first month Pilecki was there, a full third of the men in his barracks died of exhaustion or pneumonia or were shot.

Regardless, by the end of the 1940, Pilecki, the comic book superhero motherfucker, had still somehow set up an espionage operation.

Over the course of two years, Pilecki built an entire resistance unit within Auschwitz. There was a chain of command, with ranks and officers; a logistics network; and lines of communication to the outside world.

And all this went undiscovered by the SS guards for almost two years. Pilecki’s ultimate aim was to foment a full-scale revolt within the camp. With help and coordination from the outside, he believed he could stoke a prison break, overrun the undermanned SS guards, and release tens of thousands of highly trained Polish guerrilla fighters into the wild. He sent his plans and reports to Warsaw. For months, he waited. For months, he survived.

But then came the Jews. First, in buses. Then, packed in train cars. Soon, they were arriving by the tens of thousands, Stripped of all family possessions and dignity, they filed mechanically into the newly renovated “shower” barracks, where they were gassed and their bodies burned.

Pilecki’s reports to the outside became frantic. They’re murdering tens of thousands of people here each day. Mostly Jews. The death toll could potentially be in the millions. He pleaded with the Secret Polish Army to liberate the camp at once. He said if you can’t liberate the camp, then at least bomb it. For God’s sake, at least destroy the gas chambers. At least.

The Secret Polish Army received his messages but figured he was exaggerating. In the farthest reaches of their minds, nothing could be that f*****. Nothing.

Pilecki was the first person ever to alert the world to the Holocaust. His intelligence was forwarded through the various resistance groups around Poland, then on to the Polish government-in-exile in the United Kingdom, who then passed his reports to the Allied Command in London. The information eventually even made its way to Eisenhower and Churchill.

They, too, figured Pilecki had to be exaggerating.

In 1943, Pilecki realized that his plans of a mutiny and prison break were never going to happen: The Secret Polish Army wasn’t coming. The Americans and British weren’t coming. And in all likelihood, it was the Soviets who were coming—and they would be worse. Pilecki decided that remaining inside the camp was too risky. It was time to escape.

He made it look easy, of course. First, he faked illness and got himself admitted to the camp’s hospital. From there, he lied to the doctors about what work group he was supposed to return to, saying he had the night shift at the bakery, which was on the edge of camp, near the river. When the doctors discharged him, he headed to the bakery, where he proceeded to “work” until 2:00 a.m., when the last batch of bread finished baking. From there, it was just a matter of cutting the telephone wire, silently prying open the back door, changing into stolen civilian clothes without the SS guards noticing, sprinting to the river a mile away while being shot at, and then navigating his way back to civilization .

Beijing metro replace English with pinying

北京地铁站的英文标识已经改成汉语拼音了,这才是大国的样子
Article HERE

Russian airports replace English with Chinese? – iNEWS

Article HERE

Her name was Blue

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I once had a cat that I found feral in the woods, living off mice in a neighbor’s junk pile. Eventually I coaxed her out with some food, and after a few days, into the house, where she eventually made a home. She was a good cat, and a good companion to my brother’s cat, and after I got out of college, became a favorite of my wife’s.

She lived with us a long time before the tumors appeared. Twice, we had them cut out and gave her a little extra love and tried to appreciate her remaining time.

Then one day, she wasn’t at the door when I came home. I found her in a back room, laying paralyzed in a puddle of urine, pleading with her eyes for help. I had waited too long.

I held her as the needle went in. She winced, and I rubbed her head like I always did when I comforted her. She snuggled against my hand, the fear and the pain left her eyes, and just for a moment, she was herself again.

I held her till she stopped breathing, then went outside and cried a good long time, not for the loss of a pet, but for having failed an animal what depended on me utterly, for having stubbornly denied my duty to her and let her suffer longer than I should have.

Her name was Blue.

She was regal and sleek, and deserved a more dignified end. She knew she was dying, but needed me to let her go.

When I finally did, she was relieved.

I’m sure that when it comes time for your loved ones to go, they will be ready.

Chinese tech firm launches GPU chip it claims marks ‘new era’ for computing

Biren Technology says the peak performance of its 7-nanometre chip – made by TSMC – is three times better than equivalent products on the market. It will be used in large-scale, cloud-based AI training in data centres and the company aims to partner with firms such as server provider Inspur.

Article HERE

I knew he was special.

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I saw hime and knew he was special…

I walked into a cat room at the shelter and sat on the floor, sad, because my home cat just died a mere one week earlier.

I put my purse on the floor.

This Ginger cat pranced up to me and immediately laid down on top of my purse. I thought he was telling me that he wanted to come home with me.

I visited this shelter 3 X and each time, he did the same thing.

When I brought in the cat carrier the third visit, I set it on the floor and he ran over to me and walked into the carrier.

The shelter personal, said, “NO NO, you have to take him out so we can take the Success story “forever home” picture…so I took him out, held him, they took the photo.

I set him back down on the floor and he immediately walked back into the carrier and said, “Ok, I am ready, take me to my new home.”

What are the chances of that? Special, I say !

I passed on a gorgeous 1 year old all white male with one blue eye and one gold eye, for an extraordinary, every day normal ginger that you see everywhere.

He is so worth it.

MM Comment. Cats share bodies. Her previous cat entered the boy of this cat at the shelter. I'll bet you with a 95% certainty. -MM

In Actual Russia, No Sign of Sanctions

It’s time to get real. It’s been time to get real. Russia has won its war against Ukraine.

This outcome comes as no surprise. Anyone with access to a map could see that the chances of Ukraine prevailing against Russia were slim to none.

The only way Ukraine could have emerged victorious — which would, according to the Ukrainians themselves, mean pushing it out of Crimea and deposing the separatist pro-Russian republics of Donetsk and Luhansk — would have been if the United States and its Western allies had been willing to launch nuclear weapons, which would have led to global annihilation. Once the decision was made not to start World War III, Ukraine’s defeat became inevitable. This, everyone sane knows, is for the best.

Determinative to this conclusion was an unusual pair of motivations. Normally, when a war is fought on one country’s territory, the invaded country fights harder than the invading forces. Paradoxically, despite suffering damaged infrastructure, the invaded state enjoys the home advantages of complete knowledge of the battlefield and much shorter supply lines. Aside from sporadic cross-border missile strikes, this war has been fought entirely on Ukrainian territory.

This conflict is different because Russia has to win; it cannot walk away. Ukraine has a 1,200-mile border with Russia, it wants to join an anti-Russia military alliance and its government was openly hostile to Russia before the war. And when Germany invaded the Soviet Union in 1941, its armies came through Ukraine, where the Nazis were greeted as liberators. Unlike America, which could bring its troops home after losing on the other side of the world in Afghanistan and Iraq and shrug off its imperialist misadventures and could leave Vietnam after pretending that more political will on the home front would have resulted in victory, Russia sees its military operation as existential. Ukraine isn’t a misbegotten side project. It’s as essential in the same way the United States would respond to a Canada that turned hostile to the U.S.

Unfortunately, and dangerously, American media consumers are being pounded with an endless deluge of propaganda promoting the ludicrous idea that Ukraine is winning and/or will ultimately prevail militarily. This fantastical assertion props up political support for shipping $60 billion worth of weapons to Ukraine, with more on the way — never mind the 70% that President Volodymyr Zelensky’s wildly corrupt government sells on the black market and the Javelin missile systems that wind up for sale on the dark web. (Christmas is coming! Don’t forget your favorite political cartoonist and columnist.) By way of comparison, the U.S. Department of Health of Human Services estimates that we could abolish homelessness here for $20 billion.

We’re also being told that Russia is crumbling under the crushing blow of vicious Western sanctions deployed as part of the White House’s openly stated war aim that it wants “to see Russia weakened.” The Russian economy, it is said, is collapsing. Russian elites, they say, will soon overthrow President Vladimir Putin.

Let me tell you firsthand: There is zero sign of economic distress in Russia.

I’ve spent the last two weeks in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, Russia’s two biggest cities. Stores are bustling; people are spending; unemployment is low and still falling; there are lines at ATMs and whatever else is happening, the economy is anything but bad. The Galeria Mall across the busy street from my hotel in Saint Petersburg has a few closed stores shut down by Western chains, but the majority remain, and consumers are shopping like mad. European and American tourists are few and far between, but it’s exactly the same here in sanctions-free Istanbul where I’m writing this. Westerners stopped coming at the start of the COVID-19 lockdown two years ago and still haven’t returned. If Russians are unhappy with Putin — and they’re not — it’s not because of the economy.

I know from bad economies; where I live in New York, crime is out of control, homeless people go untreated for an array of mental illnesses and some are killing people, and being killed, and many storefronts have been empty and boarded up since the beginning of the pandemic. Any New Yorker would or should happily trade places with their Muscovite counterpart, who lives in a city with clean streets and subways that don’t serve as rolling homeless shelters and where life feels as if COVID-19 was never a thing. News stories that claim Russia is on the ropes are a giant magnificent pile of lies so over-the-top that I can’t help but be impressed by their glorious audacity and easily debunked mendacity. All you have to do is go to Russia, as I did, and see for yourself that it’s all bull — but hey, that’s a lot of trouble — because of sanctions that seem to be hurting us more than them.

Self-delusion is more fun.

Who, after all, should you trust? The same U.S. state media that told you Saddam Hussein had WMDs? Or some cartoonist-columnist who told you, well in advance, that the U.S. didn’t stand a chance in Afghanistan, Trump would win in 2016 and that he would attempt a coup d’etat to remain in power?

Billy the cat

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I had a very sad day recently when I met a cat whom I’ll call Billy.

He had been found as a stray by a good client of the clinic where I was working.

He was a black and white male cat who had been recently neutered.

The odd thing was that all of his white paws were colored pink as if with magic markers. When I asked what the pink paws meant, I was horrified to find out that this is the way people who run dog fights mark cats they’ve acquired. This is so that when they throw the cats in the ring with the dogs, the spectators can tell the cats apart and bet on which one will last the longest.

I did not know that this practice even existed and I am sad and angry that animals are treated that way.

Billy must somehow have escaped the fate intended for him.

He initially weighed only six pounds, but he was eating and drinking like a champ. We checked him out thoroughly and found to our dismay that he had a greatly enlarged kidney and signs of severe kidney disease.

After all Billy had been through, the new owner, staff and I weren’t going to give up. We pulled out the stops and treated for what we hoped was a kidney infection and Billy responded!

After one week in the hospital, he went home and is doing well —a victory for the kitty with the pink feet!

Sun Gang

Sun Gang is a truck driver. His truck caught fire during maintenance. At that time, he was in a downtown area, and there was a gas station nearby. In order not to put others in danger, he drove the truck for 5 kilometers until there was no one. Not long after he got out of the trunk, the fuel tank in the car exploded. The newly bought truck became scrap metal.

He said that the truck was like a big stove at that time. He was very scared, but there was no other way. He didn’t want others get hurt.

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His heroic action was widely viewed on the Internet. Many people were moved by his bravery and kindness. A few days later, two companies presented him with a new one.

Sun Gang had a new truck and continued to deliver goods to earn money.He donated the money he earned from the first transportation to the nursing home , saying that kindness should be passed on.

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I recalled this news published 2 months ago because I saw similar videos today. A truck carrying wheat straw caught fire, and the driver drove it one kilometer to ensure the safety of nearby villagers.

The act of saving others but putting himself in danger is so typical of China.

Maine Coons

I have three Maine coons, and have had other cats, and I have to say that they act differently than other cats.

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My cats have always been very spoiled – they get a lot of attention; they basically have the run of the house, receive the best food, etc. etc.

So my last three cats (littermates) were wonderful, but could be skittish and sometimes lashed out when they were overstimulated. They were interactive, of course, but spent a lot of time on their own.

My Maine coons are giants, can’t stand to not be in the same room with me, never bite, nip, scratch, or anything else.

If they get tired of me petting or snuggling, they just push me away and rearrange themselves.

They LOVE people.

I had a plumber here today – you’d think I’d hired a magician to entertain a room full of kindergarten kids.

They sat in the tub and watched him, followed him to the door and watched him go to his truck – never said a peep or tried to touch him – just wanted to see what was up.

I think it’s the general disposition of the breed to be confident, friendly, and outgoing.

When my doorbell rings, they line up like the staff at Downton Abby, waiting to greet our guest.

They are very, very smart, so any new interaction is very exciting for them.

Shavarsh Karapetyan

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Shavarsh Karapetyan

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The trolley bus sank 80 feet offshore at a depth of 33 feet. Shavarsh immediately dove in and swam to the bus and despite zero visibility, managed to kick in the back window, injuring himself in the process.

He proceeded to save twenty people trapped in the bus, one at a time, for hours.

The combined effect of the cold water and his inquiries from breaking the glass window led to his hospitalization for 45 days after the incident, during which time he developed pneumonia, sepsis, and lung damage which ended his athletic career.

For years, his story wasn’t known, until an article about the event identified him by name in 1982.

In 1985, he happened to pass by a burning building and rushed inside, again saving people trapped inside one at a time until he collapsed. He was again hospitalized with severe burns and lung damage.

He’s still kicking it at 66.

Just an awesome person, a real Rufus.

Creativity, Entrepreneurship, and Other American Myths

The Myth of American Competitive Supremacy

German GDP Could Fall 10% If Production Brought Home from China

A move to restore domestic production of key goods in Germany – mostly from China – could lead to a gross domestic product decline of almost 10%, a recent paper has suggested.

Near-shoring to neighbouring countries would also have a clearly negative effect of a comparable magnitude, the report published by the IFO Institute for Economic Research said.

Article HERE

Tough little momma

My parents owned a convenient store back in the 80’s. It was located in Denver Harbor a.k.a. 5th Ward (when you call an area a WARD, you know it’s not the nicest or safest of areas). It was a Saturday, my brothers and I did not have school so we were there helping. This man walks in with a gun and robbed my mom of all the money in the register, runs out and hops in his van that he had backed into the parking lot.

My mom ( petite Asian woman) grabs her gun and runs after him.

She starts shooting at his van and he shoots back. She gets down on all fours and starts crawling to hide behind his van, all while shooting! He couldn’t get his van started so he escapes on foot running towards the freeway!

My mom was unaware that he had taken off on foot and she’s still playing crouching tiger, hidden dragon by his van. Cops apprehended the guy running on the freeway. Bring him over to my mom and said, “Is this the guy that robbed you?”

Before she could answer, the robber says, “ I’m gonna sue you lady for shooting at me!” ( Yeah…I know).

My mom was so pissed he said that so she hocked a loogie and spit in his face and told the police, “Yeah, dat him!”

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More stories about my mother and her convenient store “hey days”—

My mom got a 2nd store in 92. It was dry (no alcohol). We were about to close. But a couple of wanna be cholas (gang members) comes in. One opens up the pickle jar and tried to reach in with her hands to get a pickle.

My mom yells at her and tells her not to do that. She would get it for her.

Girl curses out my mom with all kinds of profanity so my mom tells her to get out but she won’t and is still cursing and yelling do my mom pulls out the gun and told her to get out and don’t come back again.

Girl leaves but threatens my mom with more violence.

We start closing up.

My mom goes to the dumpster and has her steak knife to cut up boxes. Out of the blue she is jumped by the girl AND girl’s mom!!!

Yes! She brought her mom as reinforcement!

In my mom’s defense, she swings the steak knife and cuts the girls arm.

Her mom calls 911 and my mom is taken to jail for assaulting a minor!

Girl was 16… mom spent night in jail and made friends with her cell mates…they were all concerned for her due to being diabetic and in jail without her meds.

When we were able to post bail and get her, she was hugging on each one saying her good byes…Charges were eventually dropped against my mother because not even a week later, said girl and her mother were involved in an altercation with each other.

Girl and mother had a rap sheet so long that it wasn’t worth it for prosecutors to go after my mom.

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Sheldon

Not an MM story, but great anyways. -MM

I used to hate+fear cats (childhood trauma from cat attack) and I’m also very, very allergic.

About five years ago I was entering my car at night, in the rain, with my wife when I saw a messy, furry lump of hair reminiscent of the movie “the ring” streak around the corner of the car. I went out to look and there was this gnarly black feline looking back at me. I was like… eugh… and went back into the car. But the darned thing followed me and crawled up my lap, up along my arm up towards my shoulders all while I’m all but screaming “WHAT THE FUCK IS IT DOING??!?” to my wife, who I knew had a lot of experience with cats. The cat, that was obviously in a bad state, proceeded to lie down around my neck like a nasty, wet scarf and passed out with a huge sigh. Weirdest thing ever.

Despite my aversions against cats, especially one that had just punctured my leg, arm and neck in about a hundred spots with its nasty, infected claws – we decided to walk down to the vet, cat around my neck, to get advice on what to do with it (and also to have it safely removed from the vicinity of my carotid artery :D)

The lady who worked there was involved in a local animal support group and offered to do her best to find the owners and said the cat could live there for now – in a small cage, in a dark corner until the owner could be found or if not – be sent off to the shelter.

I suppose that was where love won out over hate, fear and allergies, so I asked if it wouldn’t be better for the cat if we took it home to try and care for it for the time being.

The cat was dirty, had ticks, fleas, skin infections, ear infections, worms and was in obvious psychological distress.

Long story short, the owners were found – but because they’d had kids and the kids were beating up the cat they decided to kick the cat out instead of teaching their kids manners. The cat was homeless and given the previous owners mentality, probably hadn’t gotten much love or attention.

So we decided to give him a fighting chance and spent a minor fortune (no insurance = expensive) getting him the help he needed, removing ticks, cleaning out fleas, daily skin care, minor ear surgery, vaccinations, anti-worm medication, intensive care diets, castration and whatever “love” I was able to muster. My allergies were terrible, but I pushed through. This was not a fun experience for any of us, but the cat never, ever tried to hurt us despite being put through weeks of painful and likely terrifying medicinal procedures as well as my constant, ear shattering sneezing.

In time (many months), my body started getting used to having “cat” in the air all of the time and my allergies started to slowly fade, in straight opposition to what doctors have always told me should happen. Not just my cat allergies, mind you. My dog and generic fur allergy, pollen allergies (hay fever) and contact allergies all improved significantly over the next two years!

Today, five years later, I could not imagine living without Sheldon. He is the perfect pet – with beautiful, soft and glistening black fur. He’s one of those cats who never do annoying “cat things” like topple things over, attack from behind a corner or walk all over the keyboard when you try to work, and when I lie down in the couch in the evenings he comes over with a slight meow, as if to ask if it’s okay to hang out, and when I move over he jumps up and snuggles up right next to me for hours on end. When I go for a walk he will follow me around wherever I go. He keeps the house and garden free of mice and rats. Warns us when something is awry. Hangs out with the pet rabbits my wife keeps in the yard or when we are outdoors he will run around the neighborhood playing and jumping up and down trees and fences. When we are away he spends most of the day comfortably resting in bed, only to come running to us like a dog when we get back. Every time we open a door for him, or give him food, he will first take the time to turn around and give us a gentle stroke against the leg, before proceeding about his business.

I can now go outdoors in the summer without being destroyed by allergies, the family has gained a wonderful friend and Sheldon gives us more than enough love to go around. These are the gifts we were given for deciding to love, when we could’ve just walked away – and certainly had our reasons to do just that.

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California’s Paul Gonzales, 45

I was watching a TED talk by a woman called “Cracking the Online Dating Code” or some such about how she found her husband online. It was pretty interesting, but she told several stories about initial “dates from hell”, including one man who took her to a “white tablecloth” restaurant, ordered copious amounts of food, and multiple bottles of wine, all the while saying, “Have whatever you want! It’s on me!” and then of course, went to “go to the bathroom” and never returned.

“That dinner,” she mused, “cost me a month’s rent.”

People aren’t putting up with con artists anymore…

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This is Los Angles, California’s Paul Gonzales, 45, nicknamed the “dine-and-dash” dater for asking women out to restaurants, eating and drinking, then leaving with bills unpaid.

He was sentenced to 120 days in jail and three years of probation, and was barred from using dating apps or websites.

Prosecutors said he had defrauded at least 10 women of more than $950. Eight of the women said they were forced to pay, twice the restaurant picked up the bill. I hope they sued him in civil court.

When someone leaves, and “it’s not your fault” it’s still their bill.

It’s not a “prank,” it’s theft.

Have the police called.

Pay for your portion (always bring some cash and a credit card on a date) and give them enough information to pursue the thief.

I also think that if you call the police, it’s less likely that the restaurant will try to force you to pay for his half, with happened to the women above.

Twitter Cancels Russia Over Covid Biowarfare Accusations

I was two weeks old

I was two weeks old and when my owner stopped at a stop sign.

And he hurled me out of the window into the woods.

Luckily for me the guy who took this photo thought it looked odd and was behind my previous owners car.

He stopped to see what was thrown out.

And even though my eyes were not open I had a hell of a pair of lungs, and even though I could only squeak my squeak was loud enough for me to be found .

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My new owner took me home , against his instincts to find my previous owner and beat them to a pulp, and fed me some nice warm milk with some honey in it .

After a few days my eyes opened fully and I could focus on this really nasty looking guy who without a doubt would have beaten my previous owner to a pulp.

I recognized his smell and the warmth I had felt as he kept me close for a few days and for a week or so afterwards I learnt how to eat for myself and to not annoy his much bigger cats too much.

Now I’m a big guy myself and follow my new owner about everywhere .

Hes a pretty cool dude for someone who looks like he could rip your head off…..but I like him .

He tells me he doesn’t like humans much but I have no idea what that means .

India dumps US dollar for UAE dirham, Chinese yuan in Russian coal trade

Article HERE

Tokyo and Seoul embarrassed by Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan

The atmosphere surrounding Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Japan on Friday, August 5, is like the sky over Tokyo: stormy. After a visit to a defiant South Korea, the Speaker of the United States House of Representatives is making a stopover in a worried, even discontented, archipelago. Japan is the last stop on an Asian tour marked by a visit to Taiwan, which is embarrassing for the US’s two main allies in East Asia who are reluctant to upset their Chinese neighbor.

The issue dominated Ms. Pelosi’s breakfast with Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida and her meeting with Japanese Lower House Speaker Hiroyuki Hosoda, as angry China is conducting live ammunition military maneuvers around Taiwan through August 7. “They will not isolate Taiwan by preventing us from going there. We had high-level visits, senators in the spring, in a bi-partisan way… and we will not let them isolate Taiwan,” Ms. Pelosi said in a press conference in Tokyo….

Article HERE

Everything Wrong with the West in 55 seconds

On numerous radio shows, I have told my audience that kids today are “spoiled lazy.”  Parents worked their butts off trying to give their kids a better life, but those kids have now turned out to EXPECT everything from mommy and daddy.

Many of them won’t work, and yet think the world owes them comfort and convenience.

The video below proves this in 55 seconds:

Worth a big watch!

 

I do not understand how our nation or our world will survive if THIS is the generation that’s coming into adulthood.  The level of self-centeredness, immaturity, and sense of entitlement, is utterly astounding.

The Point: Exclusive with Chinese KMT ex-Chair

Talking about the Chinese “white paper” with the former chairperson Taiwan political party. Well worth the first 5 minutes, then you can go unless you live here in the region.

At the end

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This old woman raised her cat since it was a kitten. On her death bed, the cat refused to leave her side to stay with her. Guarding, comforting and accompanying her on her final journey. Such loyalty and unconditional love.

Fur babies are the best!

The Third Expedition by Ray Bradbury (with thoughts on the tunnel of light)

Imagine that you died. And there, as you are leaving your body, you are welcomed with long dead friends, and relatives. They welcome you, and it is a joyous time. They take you by the hand and lead you towards the bright tunnel of light.

Would you go with them?

This is a story that ponders that question.

Without a doubt one of the Bradbury stories that has made the biggest impression on me. It’s about strategy.

And horror.

The story is taken from Bradbury’s amazing The Martian Chronicles, a collection of short stories strung together to tell the story of what happens when human beings try to colonize Mars.

In this particular tale, an expedition from Earth to Mars encounters a town that seems eerily, yet comfortingly, familiar to them. It’s even populated by long-lost relatives and family.

But, of course, it doesn’t have a happy ending.

The Third Expedition by Ray Bradbury

The ship came down from space. It came from the stars and

the black velocities, and the shining movements, and the silent

gulfs of space. It was a new ship; it had fire in its body and

men in its metal cells, and it moved with a clean silence,

fiery and warm. In it were seventeen men, induding a captain.

The crowd at the Ohio field had shouted and waved their hands

up into the sunlight, and the rocket had bloomed out great

flowers of heat and color and run away into space on the

_third_ voyage to Mars!

Now it was decelerating with metal efficiency in the

upper Martian atmospheres. It was still a thing of beauty

and strength. It had moved in the midnight waters of space like

a pale sea leviathan; it had passed the ancient moon and thrown

itself onward into one nothingness following another. The men

within it had been battered, thrown about, sickened, made well

again, each in his turn. One man had died, but now the

remaining sixteen, with their eyes clear in their heads and

their faces pressed to the thick glass ports, watched Mars

swing up under them.

“Mars!” cried Navigator Lustig.

“Good old Mars!” said Samuel Hinkston, archaeologist.

“Well,” said Captain John Black.

The rocket landed on a lawn of green grass. Outside, upon

this lawn, stood an iron deer. Further up on the green stood

a tall brown Victorian house, quiet in the sunlight, all

covered with scrolls and rococo, its windows made of blue and

pink and yellow and green colored glass. Upon the porch were

hairy geraniums and an old swing which was hooked into the

porch ceiling and which now swung back and forth, back and

forth, in a little breeze. At the summit of the house was a

cupola with diamond leaded-glass windows and a dunce-cap roof!

Through the front window you could see a piece of music

titled “Beautiful Ohio” sitting on the music rest.

Around the rocket in four directions spread the little

town, green and motionless in the Martian spring. There were

white houses and red brick ones, and tall elm trees blowing in

the wind, and tall maples and horse chestnuts. And church

steeples with golden bells silent in them.

The rocket men looked out and saw this. Then they looked

at one another and then they looked out again. They held to

each other’s elbows, suddenly unable to breathe, it seemed,

Their faces grew pale.

“I’ll be damned,” whispered Lustig, rubbing his face with

his numb fingers. “I’ll be damned.”

“It just can’t be,” said Samuel Hinkston.

“Lord,” said Captain John Black.

There was a call from the chemist. “Sir, the atmosphere

is thin for breathing. But there’s enough oxygen. It’s safe.”

“Then we’ll go out,” said Lustig.

“Hold on,” said Captain John Black. “How do we know what

this is?”

“It’s a small town with thin but breathable air in it,

sir.”

“And it’s a small town the like of Earth towns,” said

Hinkston, the archaeologist “Incredible. It can’t be, but it

_is_.”

Captain John Black looked at him idly. “Do you think that

the civilizations of two planets can progress at the same rate

and evolve in the same way, Hinkston?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, sir.”

Captain Black stood by the port. “Look out there.

The geraniums. A specialized plant. That specific variety has

only been known on Earth for fifty years. Think of the

thousands of years it takes to evolve plants. Then tell me if

it is logical that the Martians should have: one, leaded-glass

windows; two, cupolas; three, porch swings; four, an instrument

that looks like a piano and probably is a piano; and five, if

you look closely through this telescopic lens here, is it

logical that a Martian composer would have published a piece

of music titled, strangely enough, ‘Beautiful Ohio’? All of

which means that we have an Ohio River on Mars!”

“Captain Williams, of course!” cried Hinkston,

“What?”

“Captain Williams and his crew of three men! Or Nathaniel

York and his partner. That would explain it!”

“That would explain absolutely nothing. As far as we’ve

been able to figure, the York expedition exploded the day

it reached Mars, killing York and his partner. As for Williams

and his three men, their ship exploded the second day after

their arrival. At least the pulsations from their radios ceased

at that time, so we figure that if the men were alive after

that they’d have contacted us. And anyway, the York expedition

was only a year ago, while Captain Williams and his men landed

here some time during last August. Theorizing that they are

still alive, could they, even with the help of a brilliant

Martian race, have built such a town as this and _aged_ it in

so short a time? Look at that town out there; why, it’s been

standing here for the last seventy years. Look at the wood on

the porch newel; look at the trees, a century old, all of them!

No, this isn’t York’s work or Williams’. It’s something else.

I don’t like it. And I’m not leaving the ship until I know what

it is.”

“For that matter,” said Lustig, nodding, “Williams and his

men, as well as York, landed on the _opposite_ side of Mars.

We were very careful to land on _this_ side.”

“An excellent point. Just in case a hostile local tribe

of Martians killed off York and Williams, we have instructions

to land in a further region, to forestall a recurrence of such

a disaster. So here we are, as far as we know, in a land

that Williams and York never saw.”

“Damn it,” said Hinkston, “I want to get out into this

town, sir, with your permission. It may be there are similar

thought patterns, civilization graphs on every planet in our

sun system. We may be on the threshold of the greatest

psychological and metaphysical discovery of our age!”

“I’m willing to wait a moment,” said Captain John Black.

“It may be, sir, that we’re looking upon a phenomenon

that, for the first time, would absolutely prove the existence

of God, sir.”

“There are many people who are of good faith without such

proof, Mr. Hinkston.”

“I’m one myself, sir. But certainly a town like this could

not occur without divine intervention. The _detail_. It fills

me with such feelings that I don’t know whether to laugh or

cry.”

“Do neither, then, until we know what we’re up against.”

“Up against?” Lustig broke in. “Against nothing, Captain.

It’s a good, quiet green town, a lot like the old-fashioned one

I was born in. I like the looks of it.”

“When were you born, Lustig?”

“Nineteen-fifty, sir.”

“And you, Hinkston?”

“Nineteen fifty-five, sir. Grinnell, Iowa. And this looks

like home to me.”

“Hinkston, Lustig, I could be either of your fathers. I’m

just eighty years old. Born in 1920 in Illinois, and through

the grace of God and a science that, in the last fifty years,

knows how to make _some_ old men young again, here I am on

Mars, not any more tired than the rest of you, but infinitely

more suspicious. This town out here looks very peaceful and

cool, and so much like Green Bluff, Illinois, that it frightens

me. It’s too _much_ like Green Bluff.” He turned to the

radioman. “Radio Earth. Tell them we’ve landed. That’s all.

Tell them we’ll radio a full report tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Black looked out the rocket port with his face

that should have been the face of a man eighty but seemed like

the face of a man in his fortieth year. “Tell you what we’ll

do, Lustig; you and I and Hinkston’ll look the town over. The

other men’ll stay aboard. If anything happens they can get the

hell out. A loss of three men’s better than a whole ship.

If something bad happens, our crew can warn the next rocket.

That’s Captain Wilder’s rocket, I think, due to be ready to

take off next Christmas. if there’s something hostile about

Mars we certainly want the next rocket to be well armed.”

“So are we. We’ve got a regular arsenal with us.”

“Tell the men to stand by the guns then. Come on,

Lustig, Hinkston.”

The three men walked together down through the levels of

the ship.

It was a beautiful spring day. A robin sat on a blossoming

apple tree and sang continuously. Showers of petal snow sifted

down when the wind touched the green branches, and the blossom

scent drifted upon the air. Somewhere in the town someone

was playing the piano and the music came and went, came and

went, softly, drowsily. The song was “Beautiful Dreamer.”

Somewhere else a phonograph, scratchy and faded, was hissing

out a record of “Roamin’ in the Gloamin’,” sung by Harry

Lauder.

The three men stood outside the ship. They sucked and

gasped at the thin, thin air and moved slowly so as not to

tire themselves.

Now the phonograph record being played was:

“_Oh, give me a June night

The moonlight and you_ . . .”

Lustig began to tremble. Samuel Hinkston did likewise.

The sky was serene and quiet, and somewhere a stream of

water ran through the cool caverns and tree shadings of a

ravine. Somewhere a horse and wagon trotted and rolled by,

bumping.

“Sir,” said Samuel Hinkston, “it must be, it _has_ to be,

that rocket travel to Mars began in the years before the first

World War!”

“No.”

“How else can you explain these houses, the iron deer,

the pianos, the music?” Hinkston took the captain’s elbow

persuasively and looked into the captain’s face. “Say that

there were people in the year 1905 who hated war and got

together with some scientists in secret and built a rocket and

came out here to Mars–”

“No, no, Hinkston.”

“Why not? The world was a different world in 1905; they

could have kept it a secret much more easily.”

“But a complex thing like a rocket, no, you couldn’t keep

it secret.”

“And they came up here to live, and naturally the houses

they built were similar to Earth houses because they brought

the culture with them.”

“And they’ve lived here all these years?” said the

captain.

“In peace and quiet, yes. Maybe they made a few trips,

enough to bring enough people here for one small town, and

then stopped for fear of being discovered. That’s why this town

seems so old-fashioned. I don’t see a thing, myself, older than

the year 1927, do you? Or maybe, sir, rocket travel is older

than we think. Perhaps it started in some part of the world

centuries ago and was kept secret by the small number of men

who came to Mars with only occasional visits to Earth over

the centuries.”

“You make it sound almost reasonable.”

“It has to be. We’ve the proof here before us; all we have

to do is find some people and verify it.”

Their boots were deadened of all sound in the thick green

grass. It smelled from a fresh mowing. In spite of himself,

Captain John Black felt a great peace come over him. It had

been thirty years since he had been in a small town, and the

buzzing of spring bees on the air lulled and quieted him, and

the fresh look of things was a balm to the soul.

They set foot upon the porch. Hollow echoes sounded from

under the boards as they walked to the screen door. Inside they

could see a bead curtain hung across the hall entry, and a

crystal chandelier and a Maxfield Parrish painting framed on

one wall over a comfortable Morris chair. The house smelled

old, and of the attic, and infinitely comfortable. You could

hear the tinkle of ice in a lemonade pitcher. In a distant

kitchen, because of the heat of the day, someone was preparing

a cold lunch. Someone was humming under her breath, high and

sweet.

Captain John Black rang the bell.

Footsteps, dainty and thin, came along the hall, and

a kind-faced lady of some forty years, dressed in a sort of

dress you might expect in the year 1909, peered out at them.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Beg your pardon,” said Captain Black uncertainly. “But

we’re looking for–that is, could you help us–” He stopped.

She looked out at him with dark, wondering eyes.

“If you’re selling something–” she began.

“No, wait!” he cried. “What town is this?”

She looked him up and down. “What do you mean, what town

is it? How could you be in a town and not know the name?”

The captain looked as if he wanted to go sit under a shady

apple tree. “We’re strangers here. We want to know how this

town got here and how you got here.”

“Are you census takers?”

“No.”

“Everyone knows,” she said, “this town was built in 1868.

Is this a game?”

“No, not a game!” cried the captain. “We’re from Earth.”

“Out of the _ground_, do you mean?” she wondered.

“No, we came from the third planet, Earth, in a ship. And

we’ve landed here on the fourth planet, Mars–”

“This,” explained the woman, as if she were addressing

a child, “is Green Bluff, Illinois, on the continent of

America, surrounded by the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, on a

place called the world, or, sometimes, the Earth. Go away

now. Goodby.”

She trotted down the hall, running her fingers through

the beaded curtains.

The three men looked at one another.

“Let’s knock the screen door in,” said Lustig.

“We can’t do that. This is private property. Good God!”

They went to sit down on the porch step.

“Did it ever strike you, Hinkston, that perhaps we

got ourselves somehow, in some way, off track, and by accident

came back and landed on Earth?”

“How could we have done that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Oh God, let me think.”

Hinkston said, “But we checked every mile of the way.

Our chronometers said so many miles. We went past the Moon and

out into space, and here we are. I’m _positive_ we’re on Mars.”

Lustig said, “But suppose, by accident, in space, in time,

we got lost in the dimensions and landed on an Earth that is

thirty or forty years ago.”

“Oh, go away, Lustig!”

Lustig went to the door, rang the bell, and called into

the cool dim rooms: “What year is this?”

“Nineteen twenty-six, of course,” said the lady, sitting

in a rocking chair, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Did you hear that?” Lustig turned wildly to the others.

“Nineteen twenty-six! We _have_ gone back in time! This _is_

Earth!”

Lustig sat down, and the three men let the wonder and

terror of the thought afflict them. Their hands stirred

fitfully on their knees. The captain said, “I didn’t ask for

a thing like this. It scares the hell out of me. How can a

thing like this happen? I wish we’d brought Einstein with us.”

“Will anyone in this town believe us?” said Hinkston. “Are

we playing with something dangerous? Time, I mean. Shouldn’t

we just take off and go home?”

“No. Not until we try another house.”

They walked three houses down to a little white cottage

under an oak tree. “I like to be as logical as I can be,” said

the captain. “And I don’t believe we’ve put our finger on it

yet. Suppose, Hinkston, as you originally suggested, that

rocket travel occurred years ago? And when the Earth people

lived here a number of years they began to get homesick for

Earth. First a mild neurosis about it, then a full-fledged

psychosis. Then threatened insanity. What would you do as

a psychiatrist if faced with such a problem?”

Hinkston thought “Well, I think I’d rearrange the

civilization on Mars so it resembled Earth more and more each

day. If there was any way of reproducing every plant, every

road, and every lake, and even an ocean, I’d do so. Then by

some vast crowd hypnosis I’d convince everyone in a town this

size that this really _was_ Earth, not Mars at all.”

“Good enough, Hinkston. I think we’re on the right track

now. That woman in that house back there just _thinks_ she’s

living on Earth. It protects her sanity. She and all the others

in this town are the patients of the greatest experiment

in migration and hypnosis you will ever lay eyes on in your

life.”

“That’s _it_, sir!” cried Lustig.

“Right!” said Hinkston.

“Well.” The captain sighed. “Now we’ve got somewhere. I

feel better. It’s all a bit more logical. That talk about time

and going back and forth and traveling through time turns

my stomach upside down. But _this_ way–” The captain smiled.

“Well, well, it looks as if we’ll be fairly popular here.”

“Or will we?” said Lustig. “After all, like the Pilgrims,

these people came here to escape Earth. Maybe they won’t be

too happy to see us. Maybe they’ll try to drive us out or kill

us.”

“We have superior weapons. This next house now. Up we go.”

But they had hardly crossed the lawn when Lustig stopped

and looked off across the town, down the quiet, dreaming

afternoon street. “Sir,” he said.

“What is it, Lustig?”

“Oh, sir, _sir_, what I _see_–” said Lustig, and he began

to cry. His fingers came up, twisting and shaking, and his face

was all wonder and joy and incredulity. He sounded as if at

any moment he might go quite insane with happiness. He looked

down the street and began to run, stumbling awkwardly, falling,

picking himself up, and running on. “Look, look!”

“Don’t let him get away!” The captain broke into a run.

Now Lustig was running swiftly, shouting. He turned into

a yard halfway down the shady street and leaped up upon the

porch of a large green house with an iron rooster on the roof.

He was beating at the door, hollering and crying, when

Hinkston and the captain ran up behind him. They were all

gasping and wheezing, exhausted from their run in the thin

air. “Grandma! Grandpa!” cried Lustig.

Two old people stood in the doorway.

“David!” their voices piped, and they rushed out to

embrace and pat him on the back and move around him. “David,

oh, David, it’s been so many years! How you’ve grown, boy; how

big you are, boy. Oh, David boy, how are you?”

“Grandma, Grandpa!” sobbed David Lustig. “You look fine,

fine!” He held them, turned them, kissed them, hugged them,

cried on them, held them out again, blinking at the little

old people. The sun was in the sky, the wind blew, the grass

was green, the screen door stood wide.

“Come in, boy, come in. There’s iced tea for you, fresh,

lots of it!”

“I’ve got friends here.” Lustig turned and waved at the

captain and Hinkston frantically, laughing. “Captain, come on

up.”

“Howdy,” said the old people. “Come in. Any friends of

David’s are our friends too. Don’t stand there!”

In the living room of the old house it was cool, and

a grandfather clock ticked high and long and bronzed in one

corner. There were soft pillows on large couches and walls

filled with books and a rug cut in a thick rose pattern, and

iced tea in the hand, sweating, and cool on the thirsty tongue.

“Here’s to our health.” Grandma tipped her glass to

her porcelain teeth.

“How long you been here, Grandma?” said Lustig.

“Ever since we died,” she said tartly.

“Ever since you what?” Captain John Black set down his

glass.

“Oh yes.” Lustig nodded. “They’ve been dead thirty years.”

“And you sit there calmly!” shouted the captain.

“Tush.” The old woman winked glitteringly. “Who are you

to question what happens? Here we are. What’s life, anyway? Who

does what for why and where? All we know is here we are, alive

again, and no questions asked. A second chance.” She toddled

over and held out her thin wrist. “Feel.” The captain felt.

“Solid, ain’t it?” she asked. He nodded. “Well, then,” she

said triumphantly, “why go around questioning?”

“Well,” said the captain, “it’s simply that we never

thought we’d find a thing like this on Mars.”

“And now you’ve found it. I dare say there’s lots on every

planet that’ll show you God’s infinite ways.”

“Is this Heaven?” asked Hinkston.

“Nonsense, no. It’s a world and we get a second chance.

Nobody told us why. But then nobody told us why we were on

Earth, either. That other Earth, I mean. The one you came from.

How do we know there wasn’t _another_ before _that_ one?”

“A good question,” said the captain.

Lustig kept smiling at his grandparents. “Gosh, it’s good

to see you. Gosh, it’s good.”

The captain stood up and slapped his hand on his leg in

a casual fashion. “We’ve got to be going. Thank you for the

drinks.”

“You’ll be back, of course,” said the old people. “For

supper tonight?”

“We’ll try to make it, thanks. There’s so much to be done.

My men are waiting for me back at the rocket and–”

He stopped. He looked toward the door, startled.

Far away in the sunlight there was a sound of voices,

a shouting and a great hello.

“What’s that?” asked Hinkston,

“We’ll soon find out.” And Captain John Black was out the

front door abruptly, running across the green lawn into the

street of the Martian town.

He stood looking at the rocket. The ports were open and

his crew was streaming out, waving their hands. A crowd of

people had gathered, and in and through and among these people

the members of the crew were hurrying, talking, laughing,

shaking hands. People did little dances. People swarmed. The

rocket lay empty and abandoned.

A brass band exploded in the sunlight, flinging off a gay

tune from upraised tubas and trumpets. There was a bang of

drums and a shrill of fifes. Little girls with golden hair

jumped up and down. Little boys shouted, “Hooray!” Fat men

passed around ten-cent cigars. The town mayor made a speech.

Then each member of the crew, with a mother on one arm, a

father or sister on the other, was spirited off down the street

into little cottages or big mansions.

“Stop!” cried Captain Black.

The doors slammed shut.

The heat rose in the clear spring sky, and all was silent.

The brass band banged off around a corner, leaving the rocket

to shine and dazzle alone in the sunlight

“Abandoned!” said the captain. “They abandoned the ship,

they did! I’ll have their skins, by God! They had orders!”

“Sir,” said Lustig, “don’t be too hard on them. Those were

all old relatives and friends.”

“That’s no exuse!”

“Think how they felt, Captain, seeing familiar faces

outside the ship!”

“They had their orders, damn it!”

“But how would you have felt, Captain?”

“I would have obeyed orders–” The captain’s mouth

remained open.

Striding along the sidewalk under the Martian sun, tall,

smiling, eyes amazingly clear and blue, came a young man of

some twenty-six years. “John!” the man called out, and broke

into a trot.

“What?” Captain John Black swayed.

“John, you old son of a bitch!”

The man ran up and gripped his hand and slapped him on

the back.

“It’s you,” said Captain Black.

“Of course, who’d you _think_ it was?”

“Edward!” The captain appealed now to Lustig and Hinkston,

holding the stranger’s hand. “This is my brother Edward. Ed,

meet my men, Lustig, Hinkston! My brother!”

They tugged at each other’s hands and arms and then

finally embraced.

“Ed!”

“John, you bum, you!”

“You’re looking fine, Ed, but, Ed, what _is_ this? You

haven’t changed over the years. You died, I remember, when you

were twenty-six and I was nineteen. Good God, so many years

ago, and here you are and, Lord, what goes on?”

“Mom’s waiting,” said Edward Black, grinning.

“Mom?”

“And Dad too.”

“Dad?” The captain almost fell as if he had been hit by

a mighty weapon. He walked stiffly and without co.ordination.

“Mom and Dad alive? Where?”

“At the old house on Oak Knoll Avenue.”

“The old house.” The captain stared in delighted amaze.

“Did you hear that, Lustig, Hinkston?”

Hinkston was gone. He had seen his own house down the

street and was running for it. Lustig was laughing. “You

see, Captain, what happened to everyone on the rocket? They

couldn’t help themselves.”

“Yes. Yes.” The captain shut his eyes. “When I open my

eyes you’ll be gone.” He blinked. “You’re still there. God, Ed,

but you look _fine!_”

“Come on, lunch’s waiting. I told Mom.”

Lustig said, “Sir, I’ll be with my grandfolks if you need

me.”

“What? Oh, fine, Lustig. Later, then.”

Edward seized his arm and marched him. “There’s the

house. Remember it?”

“Hell! Bet I can beat you to the front porch!”

They ran. The trees roared over Captain Black’s head; the

earth roared under his feet. He saw the golden figure of Edward

Black pull ahead of him in the amazing dream of reality. He saw

the house rush forward, the screen door swing wide. “Beat you!”

cried Edward. “I’m an old man,” panted the captain, “and you’re

still young. But then, you _always_ beat me, I remember!”

In the doorway, Mom, pink, plump, and bright. Behind

her, pepper-gray, Dad, his pipe in his hand.

“Mom, Dad!”

He ran up the steps like a child to meet them.

It was a fine long afternoon. They finished a late lunch

and they sat in the parlor and he told them all about his

rocket and they nodded and smiled upon him and Mother was just

the same and Dad bit the end off a cigar and lighted

it thoughtfully in his old fashion. There was a big turkey

dinner at night and time flowing on. When the drumsticks were

sucked clean and lay brittle upon the plates, the captain

leaned back and exhaled his deep satisfaction, Night was in all

the trees and coloring the sky, and the lamps were halos of

pink light in the gentle house. From all the other houses down

the street came sounds of music, pianos playing, doors slammng.

Mom put a record on the victrola, and she and Captain John

Black had a dance. She was wearing the same perfume he

remembered from the summer when she and Dad had been killed in

the train accident. She was very real in his arms as they

danced lightly to the music. “It’s not every day,” she said,

“you get a second chance to live.”

“I’ll wake in the morning,” said the captain. “And I’ll be

in my rocket, in space, and all this will be gone.”

“No, don’t think that,” she cried softly. “Don’t question.

God’s good to us. Let’s be happy.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

The record ended in a circular hissing.

“You’re tired, Son.” Dad pointed with his pipe. “Your

old bedroom’s waiting for you, brass bed and all.”

“But I should report my men in.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, I don’t know. No reason, I guess. No, none at

all. They’re all eating or in bed. A good night’s sleep won’t

hurt them.”

“Good night, Son.” Mom kissed his cheek. “It’s good to

have you home.”

“It’s good to _be_ home.”

He left the land of cigar smoke and perfume and books

and gentle light and ascended the stairs, talking, talking

with Edward. Edward pushed a door open, and there was the

yellow brass bed and the old semaphore banners from college and

a very musty raccoon coat which he stroked with muted

affection. “It’s too much,” said the captain. “I’m numb and

I’m tired. Too much has happened today. I feel as if I’d been

out in a pounding rain for forty-eight hours without an

umbrella or a coat. I’m soaked to the skin with emotion.”

Edward slapped wide the snowy linens and flounced the

pillows. He slid the window up and let the night-blooming

jasmine float in. There was moonlight and the sound of distant

dancing and whispering.

“So this is Mars,” said the captain, undressing.

“This is it.” Edward undressed in idle, leisurely moves,

drawing his shirt off over his head, revealing golden shoulders

and the good muscular neck.

The lights were out; they were in bed, side by side, as in

the days how many decades ago? The captain lolled and was

flourished by the scent of jasmine pushing the lace curtains

out upon the dark air of the room. Among the trees, upon a

lawn, someone had cranked up a portable phonograph and now it

was playing softly, “Always.”

The thought of Marilyn came to his mind.

“Is Marilyn here?”

His brother, lying straight out in the moonlight from

the window, waited and then said, “Yes. She’s out of town.

But she’ll be here in the morning.”

The captain shut his eyes. “I want to see Marilyn very

much.”

The room was square and quiet except for their breathing.

“Good night, Ed.”

A pause. “Good night, John.”

He lay peacefully, letting his thoughts float. For the

first time the stress of the day was moved aside; he could

think logically now, It had all been emotion. The bands

playing, the familiar faces. But now . . .

How? he wondered. How was all this made? And why? For

what purpose? Out of the goodness of some divine intervention?

Was God, then, really that thoughtful of his children? How and

why and what for?

He considered the various theories advanced in the first

heat of the afternoon by Hinkston and Lustig. He let all kinds

of new theories drop in lazy pebbles down through his mind,

turning, throwing out dull flashes of light. Mom. Dad. Edward.

Mars. Earth. Mars. Martians.

Who had lived here a thousand years ago on Mars? Martians?

Or had this always been the way it was today?

Martians. He repeated the word idly, inwardly.

He laughed out loud almost. He had the most ridiculous

theory quite suddenly. It gave him a kind of chill. It was

really nothing to consider, of course. Highly improbable.

Silly. Forget it. Ridiculous.

But, he thought, just _suppose_ . . . Just suppose, now,

that there were Martians living on Mars and they saw our ship

coming and saw us inside our ship and hated us, Suppose, now,

just for the hell of it, that they wanted to destroy us,

as invaders, as unwanted ones, and they wanted to do it in a

very clever way, so that we would be taken off guard. Well,

what would the best weapon be that a Martian could use against

Earth Men with atomic weapons?

The answer was interesting. Telepathy, hypnosis, memory,

and imagination.

Suppose all of these houses aren’t real at all, this bed

not real, but only figments of my own imagination, given

substance by telepathy and hypnosis through the Martians,

thought Captain John Black. Suppose these houses are really

some _other_ shape, a Martian shape, but, by playing on my

desires and wants, these Martians have made this seem like my

old home town, my old house, to lull me out of my suspicions.

What better way to fool a man, using his own mother and father

as bait?

And this town, so old, from the year 1926, long before

_any_ of my men were born. From a year when I was six years old

and there _were_ records of Harry Lauder, and Maxfield Parrish

paintings _still_ hanging, and bead curtains, and “Beautiful

Ohio,” and turn-of-the-century architecture. What if the

Martians took the memories of a town _exclusively_ from _my_

mind? They say childhood memories are the clearest. And after

they built the town from my mind, they populated it with

the most-loved people from all the minds of the people on

the rocket!

And suppose those two people in the next room, asleep, are

not my mother and father at all, But two Martians, incredibly

brilliant, with the ability to keep me under this dreaming

hypnosis all of the time.

And that brass band today? What a startlingly wonderful

plan it would be. First, fool Lustig, then Hinkston, then

gather a crowd; and all the men in the rocket, seeing mothers,

aunts, uncles, sweethearts, dead ten, twenty wears ago,

naturally, disregarding orders, rush out and abandon ship. What

more natural? What more unsuspecting? What more simple? A

man doesn’t ask too many questions when his mother is soddenly

brought back to life; he’s much too happy. And here we all

are tonight, in various houses, in various beds, with no

weapons to protect us, and the rocket lies in the moonlight,

empty. And wouldn’t it be horrible and terrifying to discover

that all of this was part of some great clever plan by the

Martians to divide and conquer us, and kill us? Sometime during

the night, perhaps, my brother here on this bed will change

form, melt, shift, and become another thing, a terrible thing,

a Martian. It would be very simple for him just to turn over in

bed and put a knife into my heart. And in all those other

houses down the street, a dozen other brothers or fathers

suddenly melting away and taking knives and doing things to

the unsuspecting, sleeping men of Earth. . . .

His hands were shaking under the covers. His body was

cold. Suddenly it was not a theory. Suddenly he was very

afraid.

He lifted himself in bed and listened. The night was very

quiet The music had stopped. The wind had died. His brother

lay sleeping beside him.

Carefully he lifted the covers, rolled them back. He

slipped from bed and was walking softly across the room when

his brother’s voice said, “Where are you going?”

“What?”

His brother’s voice was quite cold. “I said, where do you

think you’re going?”

“For a drink of water.”

“But you’re not thirsty.”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

Captain John Black broke and ran across the room. He

screamed. He screamed twice.

He never reached the door.

In the morning the brass band played a mournful dirge.

From every house in the street came little solemn processions

bearing long boxes, and along the sun-filled street, weeping,

came the grandmas and mothers and sisters and brothers and

uncles and fathers, walking to the churchyard, where there were

new holes freshly dug and new tombstones installed. Sixteen

holes in all, and sixteen tombstones.

The mayor made a little sad speech, his face sometimes

looking like the mayor, sometimes looking like something else.

Mother and Father Black were there, with Brother Edward,

and they cried, their faces melting now from a familiar face

into something else.

Grandpa and Grandma Lustig were there, weeping, their

faces shifting like wax, shimmering as all things shimmer on a

hot day.

The coffins were lowered. Someone murmured about “the

unexpected and sudden deaths of sixteen fine men during the

night–”

Earth pounded down on the coffin lids.

The brass band, playing “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,”

marched and slammed back into town, and everyone took the day

off.

The End

Conclusion

And this is only the beginning.

Who knows what greatness, and strange mysteries lie in the future ahead of you?

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Ray Bradbury Index here…

Ray Bradbury

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Articles & Links

Master Index

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  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
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A collection of really eye-popping articles and stories from 1950s and 60s Men’s pulp magazines

Ah, they don’t write stories like they used to.

I once read an article. It’s maybe six years ago that said that SJW types were scouring old used bookstores for “sexist” and “racist” books. Buying them up in huge lots and burning them, and generally trashing them outright.

I don’t know if it was true or not.

I certainly hope not.

What I do know is that my brother told me that when he visits the used books stores, he simply cannot find science fiction anthologies or collections of short stories anywhere. He said that he visited perhaps fifteen stores in the Colorado region and none could be had.

It would be a shame to see my boyhood erased simply becuase some bight-eyed utopian wanted to make the world better though tyranny.

Sigh.

But that’s the United States today. The internet is a corporate-technologist controlled dictatorship-based white-board. Things pop up, and then are erased as new narratives take hold, develop, conduct their purposes and then die.

Then new narratives materialize.

Now, it’s Ukraine. It was Coronavirus. Before that it was China. Before that was 5G radiation, before that was…

I need a beer.

By the way. You do know that beer goes great with steaks, meats, potatoes, and all sort of fine delicious and tasty foods. How about a fine, fine pot roast, eh?

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Pot roast. Needs some thick gravy and some fine icy cold beer.

It’s an old clichéd joke to say you read adult magazines for the articles. However, if you’re talking about men’s mags from the 1950s and 60s, there might actually be some truth in your statement.

Magazines like Playboy, Adam, Jem, and Rogue often featured genuinely well-written articles and short fiction.

Getting published in a men’s magazine wasn’t the shameful smudge on an author’s reputation as it is today – in fact, it was a common stepping stone for soon-to-be-famous authors.

Like Ray Bradbury.

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2022 03 15 14 58

But it isn’t just the stories that deserve respect – it’s the artwork that complimented them. Often sleazy and purposefully outrageous, the illustrations were designed to entice you to read the story in a not-so-subtle way.

Here in this article, we are going to present some most excellent examples. Grab some snacks, pour a large bowl with potato chips, get some nice dip, and start reading.

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Chips and dip.

Oh, and don’t forget a tall frosty glass of beer. Or, if you are like MM, a fine bottle of wine , and share with your beloved pet.

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2022 03 15 15 03

Have fun.

Be with your kitties.

I mean, more like this…

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Not shown is a book, magazine, and a beloved pet next to you.

Let’s begin our fun adventure…

They were two drunken lovers having an affair in her bed while her husband was away. But, was he away? Wasn’t that he – respected adviser to the President – they now overheard plotting to kill the man in the White House?

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6335207469 fbd8c7ab54 b

Lured by his smoldering eyes and magnetic personality, adoring women flocked to Rasputin. Peasant girls, prostitutes, princesses – they came, they saw, and they were conquered!

6335965054 16831a9e5b b
6335965054 16831a9e5b b

We got home about midnight. Shelia, the sitter, lay fast asleep on the couch. Maria woke her. Then I drove her home… an hour later, she’d been raped and strangled – and I was suspect number one!

6335207571 92a32a307f b
6335207571 92a32a307f b

Getting Avis pregnant, and other sinful shenanigans, proved that the passionate pastor simply didn’t practice what he preached…. it finally took the electric chair to deliver him from all evil.

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6335207551 aa2d59503b b

As the whistling whip snaked across her back, the young woman writhed in pleasure. For this was the joy that she’d paid to feel and relish.

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6335209837 0163dcd64b b

I could hear Ted’s screams, but I couldn’t get to him, the bull sea lions were surrounding me and the angry sea was at my back…

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6335209925 f95c194b10 o

With a 2,000-horse-soldier combat team, the mad Russian set out to take all Asia for a harem. And he would have made it if he hadn’t touched the man millions call God.

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6335210025 e6e955795a o

The Sewer rats are the only ones you’ll share your secret with.

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6335957032 89b11a4932 b

The couple’s honeymoon yacht turned into a craft of horrors when it was boarded by a lust-crazed psychopath who butchered anyone who dared invade his private inlet.

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6335199403 d988020d40 b 1

Big blondes in dime-store dresses, tender teenagers with eager smiles, they converge in front of fancy bars and good hotels in all the big towns bordering the hill country.

6335199515 cb7b935f43 b
6335199515 cb7b935f43 b

According to one automotive expert, these prestige-heavy imported hot rods are often badly made, unsafe, cash-eating tin cans perfectly designed for carrying you to the morgue.

6335957270 225bfa37ab b
6335957270 225bfa37ab b

A wanton, lush-bodied kitten of a blonde, she gave Mike Webster the sweetest, most loving hideout any murderer-on-the-run ever had.

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6335957294 1d813a2ec3 b

Housemaids, heiresses, coeds and countesses – this brawling blackmailer sampled them all on a 75-year love binge so bawdy his memoirs still can’t be printed…

6335957438 5d13e53e01 b
6335957438 5d13e53e01 b

In life, she was a nymphomaniac with a very high taste in jewels and men. In death, she was Mike Shayne’s fourty-first murder case.

6335207369 2e0e0e3049 b
6335207369 2e0e0e3049 b

Laos was in flames, and in that bloody, steaming jungle hid a broken and dying pilot guarding a cargo the Reds would give their birthright to get…

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6335964954 5c94d528e7 b

In the waning days of world war two, Germany was in a state of utter collapse and chaos.

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6335956456 353537a693 b

Angel terror across Dixie… Girl Rage Rampage!

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6335956536 e505f2d888 b

In the grim violence of the Mate Grosso, two lusting men and two equally desire lashed females were stripped of all defenses before the furious onslaught of body-snatching banditoes…

6335956614 02143014e1 b
6335956614 02143014e1 b

…!

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6335198935 316a37e27a b

Jack Murphy primed her talents and showed her to the right people, all the while sating his desires on the sensuous blonde’s promise of passionate reward.

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6335956662 cd3fe1e112 b

Roaring out of the back alleys of Los Angles on their souped-up hogs, four piston-fast “leather jacket looters” and their “desire debs” hatched a plot for the greatest armored truck robbery ever attempted.

6335199055 26b67f15bf b
6335199055 26b67f15bf b

…she didn’t even have time to…

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6335956856 f575574372 b

A tough yank enforcer, two revenge-hungry nymphs vs. a crazed murder genius.

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6335956980 df5ecf10ae b

An Englishman who produced a .30 caliber carbine compact enough to fit in a cigarette pack…

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6335199367 6e835443b8 b

Everyone in the third-floor room tried to laugh off what was happening to the girl on the bed – everyone but her boyfriend and the doctor, who found more in her stomach than just milk and cookies.

6335955266 e51bce0736 b
6335955266 e51bce0736 b

…he turned an island into a cross between Fort Knox and the sexiest Siegfried line ever built.

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6335197545 e52c0cff20 b

Those oriental Nazi dancing girls were all they were supposed to be… and more.

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6335197885 b99fcf9651 b

A murderer at the age of eleven, Ben Hogan led a life of crime and depravity that had no equal outside of Hell.

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6335197901 eaa1d6c5f9 b

Blood was dripping from his slavering fangs…

6335956096 2128a66132 o
6335956096 2128a66132 o

With a bleching sound, the torrent gushed into the street. For tipplers it was a perfect way to die. For others it was an unheard of death.

6335956130 bacd9eccde b
6335956130 bacd9eccde b

…his wrist and ankles manacled to a steel bed.

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6335198497 9824848f7e b

Women, whiskey and dope made the Japanese town of Chitose “the wickedest city in the far east”.

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6335198617 b9df26565e b

They pumped two bullets into Al Cooke and left him for dead, but he wasn’t ready for the grave yet… not until he could get the laust laugh.

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6335198639 e706f39136 b

he was determined to even an old score. But the grim climax with the giant tusker was unexpected.

6335198699 339bccc8e1 b
6335198699 339bccc8e1 b

The trappers poured into camp hunting for their week of women…

6335956348 5ef0192172 b
6335956348 5ef0192172 b

Murderous females who were armed to the teeth tricked Fred hardin into stopping his car for them. Then, by threatening to slit the throat of his wife on a moment’s notice, forced him to accompany them on a journey through Hell.

6335198729 a1cbac7992 b
6335198729 a1cbac7992 b

To save his mate from a fate worse than death, the incredibly swift cat invaded a camp swarming with professional hunters, ready to kill or be killed if necessary…

2022 03 07 19 15
2022 03 07 19 15

Brother Briggs’s 3,300,00 members game kept his desert empire polygamy  happy until the day the disciples caught on to the reason behind the leaders 9-1 ratio.

6335967544 01eed0626b o
6335967544 01eed0626b o

The Reds were bleeding the West of vital defense secrets. And even after a seven-year manhunt, counterintelligence had only one clue – a case of nylon undies.

2022 03 07 19 21
2022 03 07 19 21

“Being a Lady of the Night in jolly old London is never easy – but when somebody wants to carve you up, it’s sheer murder”

Adam v10 n10 Oct 1966 13
Adam v10 n10 Oct 1966 13

“He writhed in agony as they tore at his wife’s clothing… Dan’s car was the only weapon which could avenge their heinous crime.”

Adam v04 n04 Apr 1960 18
Adam v04 n04 Apr 1960 18

“Trapped by the mafia’s maniacal sadist, Garry had only one chance to save himself and the woman he loved”….And by the looks of things, Garry had damn well better hurry up!

Adam v5 no2 1961 0037
Adam v5 no2 1961 0037

“Reilly was doomed to a life without women – unless he could force the leprechaun to lift its double-whammy”

Possibly my favorite of all time.

Black Magic v03 n04 Jan 1967 AAA 022
Black Magic v03 n04 Jan 1967 AAA 022

One moment of frenzied passion could destroy his only chance for a perfect future.

Adam v5 no2 1961 0015
Adam v5 no2 1961 0015

“The telephone had killed his wife – and the telephone offered the perfect revenge”

Adam v5 no2 1961 0019
Adam v5 no2 1961 0019

Until he saw with his own eyes, the refused to believe a United Nations report -40,000 girls to be kidnapped this year in Europe and Africa and marched across the Sarah for sale to wealthy Arabian harem owners!

042
042

In an age of charm and delicacy, Madame Laramie was a demon incarnate.

Adam v04 n04 Apr 1960 12
Adam v04 n04 Apr 1960 12

The gallows beckoned and even Rand’s woman couldn’t save him from the gambler’s double-cross.

Adam v03 n11 Nov 1959 39
Adam v03 n11 Nov 1959 39

One minute you’re there, the next… poof! you’re ashes. Never a dull moment for drinkers.

Adam v10 n10 Oct 1966 54
Adam v10 n10 Oct 1966 54

Threatened with ultimate degradation, Mira became a slave to the strangest of passions.

Adam v5 no2 1961 0003
Adam v5 no2 1961 0003

The farewell party was so wild, he almost missed the journey…

Adam v10no8 Aug1966 0061
Adam v10no8 Aug1966 0061

Parker knew he must kill his wife’s lover… but he had one growing problem…

2022 03 07 19 24
2022 03 07 19 24

“Was Marie Antoinette a victim of character assassination, or did she diddle?”

2022 03 07 19 39
2022 03 07 19 39

“It was no ordinary shipboard romance.  Her bull of a husband was along for the ride.  Yet Allen knew he had to have her”

2022 03 07 19 3e8
2022 03 07 19 3e8

“Telsa had to save the mission from destruction because of Heroq’s passion to remain a Homo sapien”

As this illustration from 1968 demonstrates, artists were free to stylize their work by the late sixties, rather than stick to the somewhat homogeneous look of the mid-century illustrations.

2022 03 07 19 38
2022 03 07 19 38

“With five sex-starved wives to satisfy, a man can have a myriad of problems”

2022 03 07 19d 38
2022 03 07 19d 38

“Dollar for dollar, corpse for corpse, Holmes might have become America’s most successful lady killer – if one pretty doll hadn’t talked out of turn and exposed the most shocking mass murder in history”

2022 03 07 19 37
2022 03 07 19 37

“There are so many physiological differences between men and women that it is hard to believe they belong in the same species, says this noted psychologist”

2022 03 07 19 4s9
2022 03 07 19 4s9

The hang-up on the telephone saved him from getting hung up on the couch.

2022 03 07 19 49
2022 03 07 19 49

“The night was cold – and so was his wife. All of which led to Pete Landon’s tantalizing adventure.”

2022 03 07 19 51
2022 03 07 19 51

“Telling others what a big make out artist you are could very well help you become one”

2022 03 07 1s9 50
2022 03 07 1s9 50

All the hush-hush planning for the Allied invasion of Europe almost went out the window of a beautiful Hungarian’s bedroom.

2022 03 07 19 50
2022 03 07 19 50

“Iona screamed as Peggy stripped for the two men…. only one desperate gamble could stop the crazed convicts”

2022 03 07 19 dww53
2022 03 07 19 dww53

With a quick slap of the hand, Joe sent the shake-down artist to the floor.

2022 03 07 19 d53
2022 03 07 19 d53

He was a hostage of the Orient’s most notorious fighting brigade – a band of torture-trained females currently terrorizing the border region of Vietnam.

2022 03 07 19 53
2022 03 07 19 53

“If sexy strategist Suzanne had been a general, the South might have won the Civil War”

2022 03 07 19e 56
2022 03 07 19e 56

Broom and Board; a Witches tale.

2022 03 07 19 56
2022 03 07 19 56

“Hollywood’s a bad influence”… with the sordid Harvey Weinstein stories in the news of late, a very appropriate title. We’ll end here. Until next time.

2022 03 07 19 58
2022 03 07 19 58

Fun huh?

Yes. It was.

Back in the day, these magazines were everywhere. Young guys like myself would take our shoe-shine box and earn a few quarters spit-shing shoes and then use the money for candy and other treats. I used to happily get those comic books that were on this wire revolving display.

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Comic book heaven.

This was at the local corner drugstore.

I would ride my bike there, and just leave it outside. There was no crime. And even if someone stole it, the community would easily track down who stole it and bring it back. I’d park my banana-seat, long handlebars, Schwinn bicycle outside and go in. The mesh screen door would slam behind me with this little tiny brass bell ringing as I entered.

At that store was a selection of scant housewares, household good, woman’s cosmetics, and a pharmacy in the back. They always had this counter at the side where you could get a simple hamburger platter, eggs and toast, a milkshake or some other delicious treat. Though, as a boy who only had coins, I would get a soda out of the machine outside.

coke machineJ4
coke machine

These small town businesses have largely disappeared in America. The small towns are deserted. Big mega-retailers like Wal-Mart and other enormous “box stores” pretty much devistated the smaller communities. Which is a real shame.

A real shame.

a lunch counter in a five and dime store
A lunch counter in a five and dime store.

Oh, I’ll bet that you are all wonderign what these strange businesses might look like. Well, they came in many different sizes and shapes. Some were just standard brick storefronts, while others were standalone oeprations.

Here’s a very “modern” small-town drugstore.

2022 03 15 15 22
Small town drugstore.

And what’s more, there were many, many other establishments in the small towns throughout the United States.

Here’s The Krystal. It’s a “fast food” hamburger “joint” that popped up and existed before McDonald’s acted like “The Borg” and assimulated all of them.

2022 03 15 15 24
The Krystal.

And there were all sorts of establishments to eat.

Most people, having two hour lunches, would eat and then go home and take a nap before returning back to work. In those days, long lunches with naps were the norm.

Here’s a typical restaurant at lunch time.

2022 03 15 15 27
The Varsity.

My father had a routine that he would have a lunch at the tavern across from the mill where he worked, and on Thursdays, he would mosey over to the Barber Shop for a haircut and trip afterwards.

Those were the days.

When I entered the work force, they were busy removing benefits left and right, eventually asking us to dash for a 15 minute drive through burger, and return back to a “Lunch Meeting”. This continued though the 1990s. Eventually they eliminated technnical and engineering / manufacturing work completely.

It wasn’t profitable, they said.

Conclusion

We have to understand what we lost before we can understand what we need to change.

The United States today is in turmoil. This is at every level. But if you want to simplify everything, it’s really easy. Greed and the search for profits over all has bankrupted the nation. It hollowed it out, and destroyed the population and society in the process.

It will change.

But right now, most people have no idea what they lost, so how are they supposed to regain any true and real freedoms?

I’ll tell you what…

Real freedom is going into a Men’s-only Barber Shop, picking up a “Girlie Magazine” while a baseball game plays in the backgound. You light up a cigarette, and inhale it deeply.

Is it sexist? Yes.

Is it racist? I don’t know.

Is it unhealthy? Probably.

But so what? It’s no ones business except yours alone.

Freedom is absolute.

You either have it or you do not.

Bye Bye America. You were a dream; and ideal that was never truly possible.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Happiness Index here…

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Family home-made cooking and meals are the best!

Here’s a nice look at some of the meals that my mother used to make for us kids when we were young. And we will also chat some about family meals eaten together.

I can tell you, with my first-hand experience that as we grew up and moved away from home, these delicious home cooked meals were replaced by fast food, and restaurant set meals. In truth, for decades I lived off of a mixture of fast food, easy to prepare cheap foods at home (spaghetti, hamburger, chicken) and restaurant staples.

I argue that many people still live this kind of pitiful life; not getting to live a life filled with delicious and tasty, healthy food.

This article looks at what my family used to cook for me that no longer exists in the diets of most Americans today. How many families in America today have sit-down family meals with lamb-chops, fresh fish, or a rump roast?

I personally beleive that once you start taking the time to eat well planned, healthy meals at home, your life and your families lives will become better and greater in every way possible.

The Real Benefit of Family Dinners

The importance of regular family dinners has been a hot topic in the world of sociology and family studies, and you’ve probably seen many articles these last few years touting their benefits. It’s been argued that family dinners do everything from decrease obesity to lower your children’s risk for teen pregnancy, crime, and drug use. It seemed as though family dinners were a silver bullet in preventing your kids from becoming deadbeats, and a failure to regularly sup together pretty much destined your child for a life on skid-row.

However, when researchers recently took a closer look at the supposed benefits of family dinners, what they found was that a lot of them could be chalked up to correlation rather than causation. That is, parents who had a strong marriage, better relationships with their kids, and set more guidelines for them, were more likely to have family dinners, and more likely to have well-adjusted children. It is these other factors, rather than the dinners themselves, that account for this effect.

The study’s authors concluded that while family dinners alone won’t prevent your kids from turning into cigarette smoking, teen mom juvies, the ritual can serve as a valuable part of a set of family habits, routines, and practices that contribute to a child’s overall well-being.

One clear benefit of family dinners that they found held up, even when controlling for the other factors, was a significant reduction in adolescent depression.

So consider family dinners to be another tool in your goal of building a positive family culture.

Their real benefit is the chance they provide for your family to slow down, get together face-to-face, talk without distractions, cement your values, create a feeling of support, and build loving bonds.

These benefits accrue to families who not only try to regularly have dinner (or another meal) together, but who approach these chances to break bread in an intentional way.

Let’s look at some of the tasty reasons why dinners whould be cooked at home.

Bacon-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin

Bacon-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin.

Roasts have existed for centuries, but the simplest versions are often to be the best. This double pork combo features a rich and luscious tenderloin wrapped in crispy, salty bacon that will leave your mouth watering. Just make sure to cook up some extra portions, as you know everyone will want seconds of this classic dish.

Here’s a Crème cheese stuffed version. Yum!

Crème cheese stuffed Bacon-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin.

Beef Stew With Dumplings

Beef Stew With Dumplings.

Stews have existed through time as some of the most durable, family-favorite dinners.

This recipe allows you to whip up a pot of this classic dish that could feed an army and explore the original flavors that made stew such an appealing dinner.

By adding in some dumplings, you can guarantee this meal will stick to your ribs and keep you well-fed.

Instant Pot Pot Roast and Potatoes

Instant Pot Pot Roast and Potatoes.

Instant Pots have been a kitchen blessing, and they can make cooking classic recipes a whole lot easier.

This quick and easy pot roast will make you see this dish in a new light and fill in any craving you have for a meat-and-potatoes meal. After just one bite, you might find your new weekday meal.

I must tell youse guys that I ate a lot of this when I was growing up. Pot roasts were my absolute favorite, and I just loved the potates, and we ate them with a full salad, at least two vegitable sides and a pile of sliced bread. Good eating, and long neglected.

Instant Pot Pot Roast and Potatoes.

Boneless Leg of Lamb with Parsley Mint Chimichurri

Boneless Leg of Lamb with Parsley Mint Chimichurri.

This retro recipe takes a twist on the classic lamb and mint jelly formula by turning the jelly into a mint chimichurri. This recipe is sophisticated enough to serve at any dinner party and can be easy enough to make any day of the week. If you haven’t given lamb a shot, this should be your gateway in.

Boneless Leg of Lamb with Parsley Mint Chimichurri.

Double-Crust Chicken Pot Pie

Double-Crust Chicken Pot Pie.

Pot pies are instant classics, but very few home cooks tend to make them these days. Why not explore the past with this classic recipe that takes all the flavors of this vintage dish and makes it easy to fix up at home?

This easy-to-concoct meal is a great way to start more comfortable working with pastries, and if you don’t feel confident in your abilities, you can use store-bought dough to save some time.

Double-Crust Chicken Pot Pie.

Corned Beef Hash

Corned Beef Hash.

You may have seen canned corned beef hash for sale at stores or watched your grandparents eat it, but nothing compares to making it at home. With one bite, you’ll remember why this dish became such a staple that has survived through the years. Just make sure to pace yourself, as you’ll want to gobble everything you make up in one go.

Herb-Crusted Grilled Lamb Chops

Herb-Crusted Grilled Lamb Chops.

Rediscover why lamb chops were such a hit by grilling up the perfect lamb with an herb crust that could please any palate. The deep flavor combinations can’t compare to any other boring lamb you’ve had in the past, and the herbs liven up this retro dish for the new era.

I have to tell youse guys, I really ate well as a kid. What the Hell went so wrong? My mother really knew how to cook and budget great meals for us kids. But then, somehow, I ended up living off of spaghetti and hamburger. Man, oh man!

Herb-Crusted Grilled Lamb Chops.

But the kids don’t want to sit at supper…

Well, then your family must be too far gone.

And you are just a limp-wristed pale shadow of a parent. You must provide rules, and guidelines and routines. Your children will grow to respect them, and after a month, they will learn to love them.

Ugh.

Sounds like me. So don’t get too offended. I’m talking about myself here.

Electronic media is a terrible seduction.

How to get the kids “on board”…

Yeah. It’s tough to pry them away from games, social media, and movies. But here’s some (lame) idea to get them interested.

[1] Teach them how to prepare their favorite food, and make a meal out of it. Then you make it formal and strat the ritualization of it.

[2] When you make their favorite food, make sure it is always formalized and ritualized. Make it special. There are different ways to make it special. Everyone is different. When I lived in the monastery, there was a bell that was rung. But it could be anything that fits your life, and your home.

[3] Always have delicious desserts. Let the children know that after they eat, they will have a very tasty dessert.

[4] Kids are easily distracted. So make sure that all distractions are switched to “off”.

How to Get the Most Out of Family Meal Times

Ritual. Strive for consistency. Try to make family dinner a sacrosanct ritual. Whenever you can, schedule your work and activities around this immovable block. Sometimes very busy high-powered executives will come home from work, eat dinner with the family, and then go back to work later. They do what they can not to miss it.

What’s great about prioritizing family dinners is that it gives you a goal to shoot for. If you know the wife and kids won’t be sitting down together and will just be fending for themselves, it’s tempting to rationalize continuing to plow through your work. But if you’re expected to be at the table, it’s easier to break away from what you’re doing and get home.

Don’t beat yourself up if you have to forgo your family dinner sometimes. Research indicates that children who have dinner with their family at least three times a week enjoy the benefits of family dinners. So just try to be as consistent with it as you can.

Any meal will do. It doesn’t actually have to be dinner. Many families today have schedules that make it hard to get everyone home for dinnertime. Dad or Mom works late, and one kid has soccer practice at 6PM while the other kid has a piano recital on the other side of town at 7. It only gets worse as the kids get older. I remember when I got into high school, I was barely ever home for family dinner due to football, work, or student council.

Sometimes the solution is a much-needed simplification of our schedules, but it’s just not always possible to get everyone to the table at 6:00. Because of this, many families simply give up altogether on the idea of regularly sharing a meal.

But research shows that when it comes to the benefits of breaking bread as a family, there’s nothing magical about doing it at dinnertime. It’s just as beneficial to sit down together for other meals — breakfast, lunch, even dessert! The key is that you’re together as a family on a regular basis (food helps in this by adding a level of comfort, texture, and enjoyment).

Maybe evenings are crazy for your family, but mornings not so much. Make family breakfast your thing. Let’s say mornings and evenings are bad, but things are pretty chill right before bedtime. Make time for a pre-bed snack as a family. It could be cookies and milk, or if you’re paleo, try some coconut blueberry balls. The important thing is that you get together with your family on a regular basis for some quality conversation and bonding time.

So instead of thinking about making the most of family dinnertime, think of it as getting the most of family meal times.

Teach them the love of cooking. Get your kids involved with making the meal. Kids love to help out with cooking. And letting them do so will help them forge a better appreciation of food and teach them a valuable skill in self-reliance that will really come in handy once they head out on their own. Plus, it gives you a chance to start talking to your kids before you even get to the table.

Take-out (or dining out) is a-okay sometimes. Home cooking is ideal for reasons of both health and cost, but there are always going to be times where you or your wife don’t have time to make a meal from scratch. That’s okay – remember, the important thing is just making the time to sit down together. Getting take-out or going to a restaurant can actually be more relaxing for everyone, and the latter is a lot of fun for the kids.

No TV, cellphones, or tablets. The purpose of family meal times is to strengthen the familial bond. You can’t do that when you’re all silently staring at the TV or while everyone has their eyes glued to their phone. Make it an ironclad rule: no electronic devices at the table.

Play music in the background. This is something we do in our house sometimes. We often play big band or classical tunes, and I try to teach Gus the sounds of the different instruments. If we’re eating Mexican food, I’ll put on some rock en español — Maná and Juanes are two of our favorites. If Kate’s the DJ, it’s often the Guster channel on Pandora. Some quiet background music adds to the atmosphere and just makes the occasion feel a little more special and fun.

Say grace. Saying grace before a meal teaches your kids the importance of gratitude and what a blessing it is to simply have food on their plates. It also teaches delayed gratification – it can be hard for kids to even wait a minute before digging in! If you’re religious, saying grace reaffirms your family’s religious identity as well.

Teach manners. Shared meals are the perfect time for teaching your kids manners. It’s something you have to reiterate over and over and over again with the little ones, but ingraining this ritual will help them cultivate a civil and polite mindset that will extend far beyond the dinner table.

Practice the 10-50-1 Rule. To get the most out of family meal times, you need to get your family talking. And not just about whether the food is too spicy (research has found that most conversation at family meals centers on the quality of the food!). In his book, The Secrets of Happy Families, author Bruce Feiler shares a guideline he uses for family meal times: the 10-50-1 Rule.

  • Aim for 10 minutes of quality talk. Researchers have found that’s about the average amount of quality talk time an average meal yields, so it’s a good minimum goal. It’s not much, but a little bit each day on a sustained basis really adds up over the long haul.
  • Let your kid speak 50 percent of the time. Research shows that adults usually hold the floor for 2/3 of that 10-minute conversation time. There are benefits for kids in overhearing adult conversations, but you want to hear what they have to say, too.
  • Teach your kids 1 new word every meal. Studies indicate that kids who have regular family meal times have larger vocabularies than kids who don’t. But holding regular family dinners won’t magically teach kids new words. Be intentional about it like Bruce is. At every dinner he teaches his kids one new word by playing different games. For example, he’ll throw out a word like “fruit” and then have everyone come up with as many related words as possible. Another game he’ll do is to bring a newspaper to the table and have everyone find a word they don’t know, try to figure out what the word means, and discuss it with the rest of the family.

Conversation. Get good conversation going. If you want to have at least ten minutes of quality talk at each meal, and you want your kids to do half of the talking, you’re going to have to ask them questions. Sometimes kids will give you one-word or non-answers, but just keep trying to elicit a response from different angles. Don’t just ask, “How was your day?” Ask them to tell you one thing they learned that day or what the best part of their day was so far. Ask them if they saw or read anything interesting. As they get older, bring up current events and ask for their opinions on them.

History. Talk about your family history. Psychologist Marshall Duke and his colleague Robyn Fivush found that children who know about their family’s history have a stronger sense of control over their lives, higher self-esteem, and feel more connected to their families than children who don’t know their family’s history. In fact, they discovered that the best single predictor of a child’s emotional health and happiness was their ability to answer questions about their family history, such as:

  • Do you know where your grandparents grew up?
  • Do you know where your mom and dad went to high school?
  • Do you know where your parents met?
  • Do you know of an illness or something really terrible that happened in your family?
  • Do you know what went on when you were being born?

Duke and Fivush believe that knowledge of his or her personal family history provides a child with a strong “intergenerational self,” which makes them feel like they’re part of something bigger than themselves.

As they hear stories of family struggles and triumphs, kids learn about family narratives that instill resilience.

According to Duke, the most powerful narrative for building resilience in children is the oscillating narrative.

It’s basically the story of continual ups and downs in your family, where, despite what happened, the family always stuck together.

How empowering and inspiring is that for a kid who’s going through a tough time?

Knowing that great-great-great grandpa managed to create a thriving business even after suffering hardship and the death of family members along a wagon trail in the middle of nowhere can help a kid understand that life will be okay even if he doesn’t get into his college of choice.

If grandpa thrived during adversity, he can thrive, too.

No children?

No problem.

Dinners are a time to build your relationship, talk and discuss and make special moments over food and drink. You can make it very special. And that is wonderful.

Enjoy your time together.

Make the dinner a little romantic and memorable Apart from making a great dinner, here are some tips that you must know if you want to make this night memorable.

1. Choose the right drinks

A romantic dinner is not complete without drinks – but your choice of beverages depends on your dishes.

  • A steak dinner can be paired with an earthy red wine.
  • You could serve a crisp, chilled white wine if you decided on chicken.

Whatever your decision, make sure you have a bottle opener handy, you don’t want to be caught without one.

If you’re not into alcohol, pick up some fruity, fizzy drinks to go with your date night meals. LIke orange juice, or a nice tea. Or, a well made coffee.

Be sure to have your date’s favorite drinks on hand for after dinner – so stock up on beers, whiskey, or gin. And if it is to be served cola,, make sure that it’s really cold.

Their favorite drink will go well with dessert.

2. Choose easy, simple recipes

When people are trying to find out how to make a romantic dinner, they probably forget that the most romantic dinner recipes are a piece of cake.

You don’t want to worry about too many aspects, complicated sauces, and preparations. Choose a dish that is easy to make with only a few ingredients. Remember this one tip as one of the most important romantic dinner ideas. Else you would be thrown in for a loop!

In a pinch, you can buy a premade instant pizza, and toss a bunch of extra pepperoni and globs of cheese on top of it. Think “adaptation” and “improvement”. You are striving for an event. Not particuliarly a meal.

3. Create the perfect setting

When you are looking up romantic dinner date ideas and trying to figure out how to plan a romantic dinner, you might think of recipes and ingredients.

But here’s the thing – you want to create the entire package. That means food, drinks, and the most important of all – the setting! It could be anything from a home-made special moment, to a plain tablecloth and a candle. Just try to make the dinner a little special.

A special and relaxed atmosphere is the perfect backdrop for a romantic dinner.

4. Relax and enjoy the meal and the company

Don’t forget to sit back, relax, and relish the romantic dinner. If something goes wrong with the food, let it. You don’t want to be stressing over everything so much that you forget to enjoy the experience. It’s all about the conversation and the food.

5. Talk about the good things

Nothing really serious, or anger generating.

You can spend some time reminiscing about the good times, especially if you both have had very little time together recently. So just keep it light and easy. Nothing serious. It’s a time of relaxation and rest.

6. Do not exert yourself too much

As much as you want to make this special, make sure you are not too tired by the end of all of it. Take time to rest and feel good about the night.

7. Dress up

Even if you are both staying home, dress up nicely for each other. You will feel so much better when you put on nice clothes and sit with each other. Guys, maybe you wear a T-shirt all the time, but what’s the harm of thowing on a blazer over it?

I well remember my Zambian (African) girlfriend, who would dress up for every meal. It did not matter if it was at home or outside. Nice outfit. Hair done. Perfume. And ladies, let me tell you what, it’s hard to compete against THAT.

8. Take photos together

Take out some time to take photos of each other, of the food, and together. Pictures are a great way to create memories, and you can always look back on them and relive these moments.

I put mine in a ton load of folders.

Don’t be like MM here. Organize better. My filing system is a shambles. Ugh!

9. Try something new

Make it a point to try something new. It could be a new cuisine, drink, or dish. New experiences with the one you love are a great way to bond. Even the shitty events, and the meals and places that didn’t work out are bonds and stories that we share and remember.

10. Get rid of distractions

Again. No distractions. Put your phone, laptops, and other gadgets away. Put away anything that distracts you and your partner, and spend time only with each other.

I will tell you that even I, almighty MM, slip up and forget this rule from time to time. And my wife, Mrs. MM hits me on the head (as she’s the only pne premitted to do this) and stops me from getting sucked into the information overload vortex.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Food Index associated with my Happiness Index here…

Food!

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Some forgotten meal dishes prepared by my mother that deserve to be on everyone’s dinner table today

Here’s a nice look at some of the meals that my mother used to make for us kids when we were young. As we grew up and moved away from home, these delicious home cooked meals were replaced by fast food, and restaurant set meals.

Sigh.

What began as an occasional trip once or twice to “Big Boy”, became a weekly event in the late 1970’s, and almost daily after the early 1980’s. That coiencided with the absolutely frenzied rise of McDonald’s and Burger King franchises.

In those days, McDonalds’ used to have the words “Over XXXX customers sold”.

      • Thousands became Millions.
      • Millions became Billions.
      • Billions became, “Billions and Billions”.

And everyone was living this sort of frenzied, fast-paced lifestle.

In truth, for decades I lived off of a mixture of fast food, easy to prepare cheap foods at home (spaghetti, hamburger, chicken) and restaurant staples.

I argue that many people still live this kind of pitiful life; not getting to live a life filled with delicious and tasty, healthy food.

This article looks at what my family used to cook for me that no longer exists in the diets of most Americans today. It’s not what I used to make to eat, or what my first and second wives made for me to eat. It’s what my parents, and my grandparents made for me to eat.

We start off with something that doesn’t seem to be that popular any more. Perhaps it’s becuase no one knows how to make it right. I am referring to meatloaf.

Meatloaf?

Yeah. Sure. Meatloaf.

You do NOT use the cheapest cuts of meat, and throw everything into it. You do not live in a school cafeteria. No. You should use quality ingredients, and keep things simple.

Classic Meatloaf

Delicious meatloaf.

Even if you have nightmares of cafeteria meatloaf, giving this classic another shot can make you realize why this staple was such a hit. This throwback recipe brings everything home and reminds you of all the rich flavors of beef, tomatoes, and that iconic meatloaf texture.

Just like it is easy to use the cheapest ground meat, the cheapest left over bread, and the near-expiration-date ingredients, don’t. Take the time and use good, healthy ingredients, and present it in a fine loving way that it deserves. Your family will love you for it.

  • Cooked tomatoes, peppers, and onions instead of store bought ketchup.
  • Ground beef instead of ground chuck.
  • Go easy on the bread crumbs.

I like to eat it with sliced bread and (real salted) butter, mashed potatoes, and corn, peas, or some other well steamed vegitable.

Southern-Style Cornmeal Catfish with Tomato Gravy

Southern-Style Cornmeal Catfish with Tomato Gravy.

Fried fish has always come across tables as a dinner standard, but it gets harder and harder to find fried catfish on the menu at most dinners.

This recipe will make you remember why this economical fish was such a favorite, and it will evoke memories of fish fries and summer days. With a crispy cornmeal crust and an easy frying technique, this recipe is achievable for any home cook.

The best and most important thing to remember is to debone it, and serve deep fried, breaded filets.

Tasty catfish.

It goes really good with pickled tomatoes, Southern “hushpuppies”, french fried potatoes and really icy cold beer. Don’t you know?

Chicken and Dumplings

Chicken and Dumplings.

Whether you grew up in the North or the South, you’ve likely tried some variant of this classic dish that has stretched far and wide across America. The tender, chewy dumplings provide a perfect textural pairing with the moist chicken. It all gets coated in a down-home gravy that whips up nostalgia in an instant. For a trip down memory lane, bring this classic to a table near you.

And don’t forget the wide sturdy spoon to gather the great amount of broth. I always liked to eat it with salt and some sprinkled cheddar cheese. But that’s jsut me.

Classic Green Bean Casserole

Classic Green Bean Casserole.

Everyone remembers their first green bean casserole, likely made with cream of mushroom soup and fried onion straws. Even if you eventually burnt out on this dish as a kid, now is the perfect time to explore the casserole again.

By mixing up the ingredients, you can avoid any traumatic memories of canned green beans and use only the freshest produce to make this dish pop.

Try using green beans, AND asparagus, with some real sauteed mushrooms.

That’s the real secret. Get fresh ingredients and let it cook for a good long time so that all the savory flavors mix and become outrageously delicious.
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Brown Butter Honey-Glazed Carrots

Brown Butter Honey-Glazed Carrots.

Sometimes, simplicity brings out the best flavors from quality ingredients. This old-fashioned recipe takes that mentality to heart by pairing fresh carrots with a sweet and rich honey butter glaze. You’ll not only evoke generations past, but you’ll also whip up a new family favorite everyone can love that costs little time and money to prepare. To round out your dinner, this should prove an instant favorite.

Healthy food, cooked properly, is the key to great family happiness.
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This is not a stand-alone meal, but rather a dish that acts as a side ot other food entres.

Honey-Glazed Ham and Cheddar Muffins

Honey-Glazed Ham and Cheddar Muffins.

When you imagine an old-fashioned Sunday meal, each table spread probably includes a baked ham and bread offered up for everyone. This take on a classic refines what everyone loved about a night at home on the weekend by featuring a delectable honey-glazed ham. Paired with the fluffy cheddar muffins, each bite of ham will be a taste of heaven.

The secret is that the cheddar cheese, and honey-glazed ham mix together scrumpiously.

Hamburg Steaks

Hamburg Steak.

You probably haven’t thought about Hamburg steaks in quite some time, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t take a crack at this once-popular staple. They’re easier to make than traditional steaks on the grill. And each portion packs in so much flavor, you’ll wonder why you never tried this recipe sooner.

I find that the secret is to let the steaks cook a nice long time at lower heat in a deep savory broth. You can add garlic, onions, and mushrooms to really kick out that flavor.

Hamburg Steaks cooking in a long savory broth / sauce.

Sunday Chili

Sunday Chili.

It’s harder to find Sunday Chili on home menus nowadays. This classic not only provides a cumin kick to liven up any night, and one big pot could last for days. With easy-to-find ingredients and little prep work, this dish deserves a revival.

Keep in mind that it goes really well with rice, and lots of cheese. When I was younger, I would crunch up crackers and eat with it, but I discovered that if you pair this with garlic bread you will have an absolutely satisfying meal.
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Oh, and by the way, this meal goes great with an icy cold beer or two.

Root Beer-Glazed Ham

Root Beer-Glazed Ham.

In the ’50s and ’60s, home cooks paired novel items in ways you might never have expected. While many of these recipes deserve to have died out, some deserve a second chance.

For instance, root beer-glazed ham stood out from the crowd by providing that sugary bite usually drawn from a honey glaze.

And the acidity of the soda helps tenderize the meat, making for one delectable ham. If you’ve only heard rumors of this dish, now is the best time to give this recipe a shot!

I can tell you that this goes great with a table “spread”.

You lay out sliced lettice (all fresh and washed completely), sliced tomatoes (I add salt and olive oil to the slices), some thin sliced onions (the restrurants all trend is to have these super thick onion slices, I like mine paper thin), and fresh hot baked bread. Add some pickles, cheeses (a selection in sandwich slices), and some marinated olives, marinated peppers.

Ah, some marinated olives.

Oh and don’t forget a fine selection of condiments…

  • Horseradish
  • Wasabi
  • Sweet salad dressing.
  • Mayonaise.
  • Ketchup.
  • Sweet butter chips (sliced pickles)
  • Dill pickles (spear shape)
  • Olive oil.
  • Butter.
  • vinegar.
  • Salt and pepper.
  • Hot mix

Hot mix.

Keep the bread warm, and the ham hot.

The tomatoes should always sit in warm water for a few minutes to push out the flavor and punch them into a state of mouth watering organism. then slice them and add salt and olive oil, and then place on their own plate.

Then you make yourself a fine sandwich and eat it with wine, and some great conversation.

Some thoughts

If you get on the internet and search for food, you will come up with all kinds of articles on the recipes on how to make the food. You might even come across some diet guru that is trying to get you to invest in “their plan”. (A subject in itself.) But you will hardly ever find articles on the joys of eating the food everyone prepares.

I don’t like that.

Food is a very important part of our lives.

It is more than just nutrition, it is a social venue. One, that is terribly neglected in modern Wester society.

And here, here, I argue that it shouldn’t be that way. I argue that food should be a major part of your life, and well planned healthy meals should be the stable from which everything else is derived.

And that’s where the family comes in.

[1] Savings

You will find and discover that a singular weekly meal might cost just slightly less than a restaurant meal, but the time it took to make it was problematic. Ingredient costs alone might equal that of a mid-range restrurant meal. And yet, it might take you an hour or more to make.

Don’t freak out.

Buy in bulk, and plan the meals a week in advance. Like adults do; like people who are in control of their lives do.

Of course, all families are different, which is why I strongly advocate a very traditional division of labor for the family and disparage the idea of a home with two people working for others. One person stays home and take on all the domestic issues and controls the money. The other earns the money, and handles maintence and repairs.

Now, if you plan on five such meals a week, and budget accordingly, you will discover a substantial savings in money, and an improvement in your family communication. And these particular changes will really positively affect your life.

This will be true EVEN if you subtract the secondary source of income. (And all the other expenses that come with it.)

[2] Social

We are social creatures. Every opportunity for us to share times with others in a neutral to positive way should be embraced and nurtured.

No one ever told you this.

Well, maybe it’s becuase they don’t appreciate things as they used to be.

Eating food historically is a social and cultural construct that helps us connect with each others. In England, this resulted in pubs. In China this resulted in those big private meal rooms.

Unfortunately, one of the very first social reengineering efforts in the United States was to destroy this social activity and replace it with a for-profit, fast and isolated eating format. Two hour lunch hours were reduced to thirty minutes, and in some cases only fifteen minutes (at work). Car drive-throughs in fast food chains popped up everywhere, and even table sizes shrank. All facilitating a most lonely singular existence  of socially disconnected loners.

Eating alone in the car.

Listening to talk radio.

Not to each other. Not savoring the flavors.

Instead, isolated, and shoving cheap, mass-produced animal feed to keep them toiling in companies, and manipulated in every singular manner possible.

So think in terms of fine sit-down ritualized meals.

No, this meal-time is not an event for horse-play and arguments. It’s a time of kindness and shared emotions. Be positive. Be kind. Be uplifting. Say good and nice things. Make the other people want to share more meals with you.

Your life will improve.

[3] Health

Healthy foods prepared with care and affection, and served  in a fine healthy environment will certainly help improve your over all health, general well-being and happiness.

It will.

You will live longer, and have a much better overall quality of life too boot.

How to use this article

It is my hope that you will go through the various food items I have shown herein and pick one. Then search the internet for a recipe for it, and then gather the materials and make it.

But it’s more than that.

Record your costs in a notebook. Record how long it took you to make it, and then have a formal sit down meal with your family or friends and record (in the notebook) how it went.

Then compare that to the “normal” everyday meals that you have been eating over the last month or so.

Conclusions

You will find that the mixture of cooking, delicious food, fellowship over a meal and the cost savings are far superior to what you (most probably) have been living off of for the last few months.

You will.

A social life will emerge.

A closer and better relationship with your family will occur.

You will make new friends, and will be healthier and happier.

And if so, I encourage you to keep it up. Start small and simple. Mix it up some. And have a great time with it. Enjoy life. (If everything goes well…) This one will be your last.

Oh, and don’t forget an after-dinner dessert and coffee (or whatever beverage that appeals to you). It’s stuff that magic memories are made out of.

An after dinner dessert and coffee.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Food Index associated with my Happiness Index here…

Food!

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Articles & Links

Master Index

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  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
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Groovy CB radios, bell-bottom trousers, and the astounding WeChat application

Groovy. You bet.

I come from a generation that had phones that were stuck on walls, and the idea of a cell phone was a science fiction adventure on Star Trek. In fact, our house had a rotary dial phone that was stuck on the wall in the kitchen.

It was yellow.

It fit in the orange decour with the olive colored refrigerator, and stove, and the red countertops.

Back in those days, I didn’t use the phone often. My sister was the one hogging up the phone all the time.

Oh, did she have a gift for chatting away. It got to be so bad that my father bought an extra one for her to use so that “she would get out of our hair” in the kitchen all the time.

She treated the telephone as her own private kingdom. Outside our local township, the phone rates were extremely enormous (this was before the breakup of “Ma Bell”) and to call a girlfriend in Pittsburgh (around a 2-hour drive away) would cost me more than what I could make a week in the mines and the grocery store combined.

So it was special.

Indeed, the two most important items in the household were the telephone and the television.

We got five channels on the television!

We were fortunate.

In Pittsburgh, my grandparents were lucky to get two. Or course, as a growing boy, the refrigerator and microwave fought for those top spots.

I must have eaten my weight in food many times a week. I was always scrounging in the ‘fridge for some leftover pot roast to make up a sandwich with cheese and microwave it in the “microwave oven” as we called it then.

A growing boy.

Then later, when I was around 16 years old or so, I discovered girls, FM music, cars and alcohol.

Not all at once, mind you, but all within months of each other. (Truth be told, I had an interest in the old throwaway Playboy magazines that I scrounged in the garbage cans since I was five years old, but it wasn’t until when I hit 16 did everything “come together”.)

My life has never been the same since.

You know, or should rightfully assume, I was a pretty groovy guy.

I had bell bottom pants, a choker necklace, a MIA braclet, and a big belt buckle with my astrological sign on the front. I had longish hair, and rockstar shoes.

I was the guy in the purple shirt. LOL.

Anyways, if we wanted to place a telephone call from outside our home, we would use these tiny little rooms called “phone booths”.

And they would frequently have this big yellow book inside. Where you could find the telephone numbers of everyone in the city that you were calling from.

A phone booth.

And if you were attending college, or were in a Navy barracks, you would use the line-up of phones at the end of the hallway.

Privacy was obtained by these little foot-sized dividers to provide the illusion of privacy.

They didn’t do anything more than that and often had graffiti on them colored by bored college students.

Rack of phones in a college dorm.

Times came and went. I began my teens with “muscle cars” and boy oh boy do I miss my GTO, but things merged in the haze of the 1970s.

We still drove those cars around, but we were starting to complain about the high cost of gas, and we were all afraid that it would break the $1 gallon ceiling.

1970 Dodge Charger.

Ah… When cars were cars!

When you went into a turn in these babies, boy oh boy could you feel it.

It was a time when people would take off all their clothes and go a “streaking” in public areas. It was a time whenpeople asked if President Jimmy Carter dropped acid, and if the cost of coffee would go back to being five cents a cup.

As time moved on, my GTO was replaced by an AMC Pacer (due to finances) and then that too was replaced with a 1974 Dodge tradesman minivan. I was so hip and so cool.

Dodge van.

My van was carpeted in lime green shag carpeting, and had a couple of sky roofs. I was proud of my pumped up shocks on it, and the state-of-the-art cassette player with FM radio!

No phone though.

I had a CB.

CB Radios

Mention ‘CB Radio’ to most people and they will instantly mime holding a mic and spew phrases like ‘breaker-breaker-9’, ‘big 10-4 rubber duck’ in a bad US accent or even start singing the theme tune to ‘Convoy’. Interestingly for a craze that burned out over 30 years ago, the social and linguistic paraphernalia of the CB world continues to live on strongly even today.

  • The CB radio was invented in 1945 by Al Gross, the inventor of the walkie-talkie and owner of the Citizens Radio Corporation.

The radio became popular with small businesses and blue collar workers like carpenters, plumbers, and electricians who used the radio as a tool to communicate with coworkers.

  • By 1960, the costs to produce the 23 channel radio were low enough that everyday Joes could afford to buy one.
  • By 1973, coinciding with the onset of the oil crisis, the CB Radio craze erupted.

FCC opens up CB radio channels to the public

When Al Gross invented the CB radio in 1945, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) quickly opened up radio services for personal users of the radio.

Most countries have similar radio services. In the United States, Citizen’s Band Radios operate on the 27-Mhz band whereas in Canada it is known as General Radio Services and operates on the 26 Mhz and 28 Mhz bands.

CB Radio.

Unlike amateur radio, CB radio does not require a license (although at one time, they did require a license to operate). CB radio channels are shared by many users at the same time and other stations must listen and wait for the shared channel to be available.

By the 1960’s, the CB radio was popular with businesses and radio hobbyists. By the late 1960’s, advancements in solid state electronics allowed the size of the radio to be greatly reduced as well as the cost.

Suddenly, the general public had access to a communications medium that previously had only been available to specialists. CB radio clubs were formed and hobbyists developed their own unique CB slang language along with 10-codes similar to the codes used by emergency services.

The CB Radio Craze

By 1973, the oil crisis caused the cost of gasoline to skyrocket and shortages quickly developed. In response, the United States government issued a 55 MPH nationwide speed limit.

This caused an angry fury in the ‘States. “How dare the government tell us how to drive!”.

Smokey and the Bandit.

Drivers quickly learned that CB radios could be used to communicate with other drivers to inform them of gas stations that had gas and to notify speeders where police (smokeys) had speed traps set up.

The CB radio became so popular, by 1977 additional channels were opened up and 40 channel radios were introduced to the market.

Newsworthy events related to CB radios further added to the excitement. Truck drivers used the radios to organize convoys ( huge lines of trucks that travelled down the nation’s highways).

In several instances, blockades were organized using CB Radios where trucks would fill all available highway lanes in protest of the high gas prices and new trucking regulations.

CB Radios began to play prominent roles in movies such as Smokey and the Bandit and Movin’ On. Novelty songs about the new electronic toy, such as CW McCall’s Convoy and Cletus Maggard’s White Knight (see lyrics below), were played regularly on the radio.

Smokey and the Bandit

During the CB radio craze, citizens of Great Britain began illegally using American made CBs.

We deserve to live like Americans they demanded! The British government told its citizens that the CB radio would never be legalized on the 27 Mhz wavelength and instead, proposed a different technology on the 860 Mhz “open channel” instead.

The citizens of the United Kingdom took to the streets in high profile public demonstrations and UK government officials bent to the will of the people. Al Gross made the first British ceremonial CB radio call from Trafalgar Square in London.

Later the United Kingdom added more than 40 channels giving UK citizens 80 CB radio channels to work with.

Handles

Years prior, CB radios required a licensed to operate. The license cost about $20 in the early 1970’s and was reduced to $4 in the late 1970’s.

In addition, there were many rules and regulations concerning antenna height, distance restrictions, allowable transmitter power, and call sign rules. People ignored the laws and to hide their identity, developed “handles” or fake names to identify themselves on the radio.

After the FCC started receiving over 1,000,000 license applications a month, the license requirement was dropped entirely but as the culture had already developed, people continued using handles such as “Big Mama” or “Timberwolf” to identify themselves while on the air. Some famous celebrity handles include:

  • Betty Ford, a former First Lady of the United States, whose CB handle was “First Mama”.
  • Voice actor Mel Blanc , an active CB Radio operator, often used the CB handles Bugs or Daffy and talked over the air in the Los Angeles area using his many voices.

Channels

Channels evolved to fill specific purposes. For instance, channel 9 was kept open for emergency use and channel 19 was used for highway communication west of the Mississippi River.

Eventually channel 19 became the “trucker’s channel” and was used for highway communication all over the United States.

In the early days of the CB radio craze, channel 11 was used solely for the purpose of initiating communications (after which the two radio callers switched to a mutually agreed upon channel).

Towns that were close together often adopted a specific channel as their “home” channel so that they could communicate with each other.

Talking the Talk

CD etiquette developed and evolved during the craze. CB radios were intended to be used to warn other drivers of Smokeys up the road or to report roadside emergencies.

Chit chatting with other CB radio users is ok but it is not considered courteous to hold up a channel for more than a few minutes. Cursing is also frowned upon. It is common for CB radio operators to use hidden code or unique slang to communicate.

For instance, when giving a warning that a police officer is running a hidden speedtrap, they might say “smokey in the bush” or to warn truckers to watch out for a broken down school bus they might say “watch out for the kiddy car at mile marker 200″.

Many of the CB slang from the 1970’s hung around and became slang that continued to be used outside the realm of CB radio communications. Below is a large list of CB radio slang used during the 1970’s CB radio craze.

CD Radio slang from a to z
  • ACE – an important or well known CB radio operator
  • Apple – a person who is addicted to the CB radio
  • AF -Audio Frequency
  • Afterburner – Linear amplifier
  • ALERT – Affiliated League of Emergency Radio Teams
  • All the good numbers –  good luck and best wishes to all
  • Alligator – shredded tread from the tires of an 18 wheeler truck
  • Amigo – friend or good buddy
  • ANL – Automatic noise limiter
  • Ankle biter- a little kid
  • Antenna Farm- a CB radio ase station with many antennas strung up in the air
  • Antler Alley – an area known for deer crossings
  • Appliance Operator – degrading term for a non-technical person who barely knows how to turn on their radio
  • AM -Amplitude Modulation
  • Ancient Mariner –  someone who uses AM radio
  • Baby Bear – a rookie police officer
  • Backdoor – vehicle behind the one who is ahead of it.
  • Backdoor closed – the rear of a convey with trucks stacked across the lanes to keep the Smokeys out
  • Back em up – slow down or reduce speed
  • Back off the hammer – slow down or reduce speed
  • Backslide – return trip from a trucker’s run
  • Bad scene – a crowded CB radio channel
  • Ballet Dancer – a CB radio antenna that sways and bends in the wind
  • Base Station – a CB radio installed at a fixed location such as a house
  • Beast  -a very good CB radio rig
  • Beam – Directional Antenna
  • Bean House Bull –  trucker conversation carried on at a truck stop
  • Bear Bait – a speeding car
  • Bear Cage- police station or jail cell
  • Bear Cave – police station
  • Bearmobile – police car
  • Bear Trap – stationary police car running a radar trap
  • Bear in the air- police in their helicopter
  • Bear – police officer
  • Beat the bushes – driving ahead of the other truckers in an effort to draw the police out of hiding
  • Beaver – good looking female
  • Beaver Bear – female police officer
  • Beaver Fever – missing the wife or girlfriend
  • Beaver Palace – a club or bar known for loose female patrons
  • Beaver Patrol – looking for a good looking woman to spend time with
  • Big Charlie or Big Daddy – the Federal Communications Commission (FCC)
  • Big Mack – Mack truck
  • Big Slab – freeway or highway
  • Big 10-4-  hearty agreement.
  • Bit on the seat of the britches – pulled over and issued a speeding ticket
  • Black and White – police car
  • Black Ice – patch of iced over blacktop road
  • Bleeding/Bleedover – strong signals from a base station on another channel that interferes with another channel’s reception
  • Blew my doors off – car passed by at high speed
  • Blue Slip- speeding ticket
  • Boast Toastie – CB expert
  • Boat Anchor – an old, broken radio that can no longer be repaired
  • Bodacious- Awesome
  • Boy Scouts – State Police
  • Box -Tractor Trailer
  • Break (or breaker, break for) – request to use the channel
  • Breaking Up – CB radio reception is poor
  • Breaking the “˜ol needle – very strong CB radio signal
  • Bring it back – answer the question that was posed
  • Brown paper bag – unmarked Police car
  • Bubble gum machine- police car with flashing lights
  • Bucket Mouth – obnoxious radio operator or someone who cusses a lot on the air
  • Bug Out – signing off or leaving the radio channel
  • Bumper Lane – the left most passing lane
  • Button Pusher – another CB radio operator who is trying to breakup your communication with another station by keying the microphone
  • Camera -police radar
  • Candy Man – Federal Communications Commission (FCC)
  • Casa – house
  • Cash Register – toll booth
  • Catch you on the flip-flop – will talk to you on my return trip
  • Channel 25 – the telephone
  • Charlie – Federal Communications Commission (FCC)
  • Chew and choke – Restaurant or truck stop eatery
  • Checking My Eyelinds For Pin Holes – I am tired or sleepy
  • Check the seatcovers – look at that passengers in the passing car
  • Chicken Coup – weigh station
  • Chicken Coup is Clean – weigh station is closed.
  • Chicken Inspector – weigh station inspector
  • Chopped Top- a very short antenna
  • Christmas Card – speeding ticket
  • Chrome Dome – a mobile radio with a dome antenna on top of the car
  • Clean Cat – a unmodified CB radio
  • Clean Shot – the road ahead is free of obstructions, construction, and police
  • Cleaner channel – CB radio channel with less traffic on it
  • Clear – Final transmission “This is 505 and I’m clear”
  • Clear after you  – you are ending transmission after the other person finishes signing off
  • Coffee Bean – Waiter or waitress
  • Cold Rig – 18-wheeler pulling a refrigerated trailer
  • Collect Call – call for a specific CB radio operator
  • Colorado Kool Aid – beer
  • Come again – repeat your last transmission
  • Come Back – answer my call
  • Comic Book  -truckers log book
  • Coming in Loud ‘n Proud – loud and clear signal
  • Concrete Blonde – prostitute
  • Convoy – 2 or more vehicles traveling the same route in a row
  • Cooking – driving
  • Cooking Good – reached desired speed.
  • Copy – receiving a message
  • Copying the mail – listening to the communications on the channel
  • County Mountie – county police or sheriff
  • Covered Up – transmission was blocked by interference
  • Crack ’em Up – traffic accident
  • Cradle Baby – radio operator who is afraid to ask someone to stand by
  • Cup of Mud – cup of coffee
  • Cut Out – leaving the channel
  • Cut Some Z’s – get some sleep
  • Cut The Coax – turn off the radio
  • Daddy-O – Federal Communications Commission (FCC)
  • Dead Pedal – slow moving car or truck
  • Dead Key – keying the mike without talking
  • Decoy – empty or unmanned police car
  • Diesel Digit – cchannel 19
  • Diesel Juice – truck fuel
  • Dime Channel – channel 10
  • Dirty Side – Eastern Seaboard
  • Dixie Cup-  female operator with southern accent
  • Doing the Five-Five- traveling at 55mph
  • Doin’ it to it – Full speed
  • Doing our thing in the left-hand lane – full speed in the passing or left-hand lane
  • Do it to me – answer back
  • Do you copy? – Do you understand?
  • Don’t Tense – calm down
  • Don’t Feed The Bears – don’t get a ticket
  • Double key – two radio operators talking at the same time
  • Double L – telephone call
  • Double Nickel – 55mph (the speed limit during the 1970’s CB radio craze)
  • Down “˜n Out or Down and gone – signing off
  • Down and on the side – through talking but will continue listening
  • Drag Your Feet – wait a few seconds before transmitting to see if someone else wants to break in
  • Dream Weaver – sleepy driver who is weaving across the lanes
  • Dress For Sale – prostitute or dressed like a prostitute
  • Drop Out – fading signal
  • Drop Stop Destination – where freight will be dropped off
  • Drop the Hammer – drive fast
  • Dropped it off the shoulder – ran off the shoulder of the road
  • Dusted your britches – keyed up at the same time
  • Dusted my britches – passed me very fast
  • Dusted Your Ears- transmission interrupted
  • DX – Long Distance
  • Eager beaver – anxious young woman
  • Ears ON – CB radio turned ON
  • Eights or Eighty-eights – love and kisses
  • Eights and other good numbers – love and kisses, and best wishes
  • Eighty-eight’s around the house – good luck and best wishes to you and yours
  • Eyeball- Personal meeting
  • Everybody must be walking the dog – all channels are busy
  • Evil Knievel – motorcycle policeman
  • Fake brake – driver riding with his foot on the brake
  • Fat load – overweight or big truck load
  • Feed The Bears – paying a speeding fine
  • Fender bender – traffic accident
  • Fifty Dollar Lane – passing lane
  • First Sargent – wife
  • Flag waver – highway repair crew
  • Flaps down – slow down
  • Flappers -ears
  • Flip flop – return trip
  • Flip-Flopping Bears – police reversing direction or turning around
  • Flop it – turn around
  • Flop box – motel or room in truck stop
  • FM – Frequency Modulation
  • Follow the stripes home – have a safe trip
  • Footwarmer – Linear amplifier
  • Forty weight – coffee
  • Four Wheeler – cCar
  • Four lane parking lot – highway with traffic backed up
  • Four legged go-go dancers – ugly women
  • Fox – pretty female
  • Fox Charile Charlie – FCC
  • Fox hunt – FCC hunting for illegal operators
  • Fox jaws – Ffemale with nice voice, but not necessarily a body to match
  • Free Ride – prostitute
  • Freight Box – trailer for the truck
  • Friendly Candy Company – FCC
  • Front Door – the lead in a convoy
  • Full of vitamins – running all out
  • Full Bore – driving fast as you can
  • Full Throttle – driving fast as the truck will let you
  • Funny Candy Company – FCC
  • Funny channels – channels that are outside the legal band
  • Gallon – 1000 watts of power
  • Garbage – too much small talk on a channel
  • Gas Jockey – gas station attendant
  • Gear – overnight bag or supplies
  • Get horizontal – go to sleep
  • Get Trucking – start driving
  • Girlie Bear – female police officer
  • Give me a shout – call me on the radio
  • Glory Card – Class D License
  • Go Breaker – OK to go ahead and break into the channel
  • Go Ahead – your turn to talk or reply
  • Go Juice – truck fuel
  • Go to channel 41 – a joke to get someone off the radio (there is no channel 41)
  • Going Horizontal – going to sleep
  • Gone – leaving the channel
  • Gone 10-7 – permanently dead
  • Good Buddy – friend (modern day means homosexual)
  • Goon Squad – persons who do not share the channel
  • Got my shoes on – Switched the linear ON
  • Got your ears on? – are you listening on this channel
  • Got my eyeballs peeled – looking hard
  • Got my foot in it – speeding up
  • Go to 100 – go to the bathroom
  • Green Stamps – cash money
  • Green Stamp Collector – police with radar
  • Green Stamp lane – passing lane
  • Green Stamp Road – toll road.
  • Grease monkey – mechanic
  • Greasy Spoon – restaurant with bad food
  • Ground Clouds – fFog
  • Gypsy – trucker who drives for an independent company
  • Hack – taxi cab
  • Hag Feast – group of female CB radio operators on the channel
  • Haircut palace – bridge or overpass with low clearance
  • Hairpin – sharp curve
  • Hamburger helper – Linear Amp
  • Hammer – gas pedal
  • Hammer Off – slow down
  • Hammer Down – speed up
  • Hang it in your ear – that was a stupid comment
  • Handle – CB radio code name
  • Hay Shaker – truck transporting a mobile home
  • Heading for a hole – about to head into a low spot where radio transmission may not be possible
  • Heater – Linear amplifier
  • Hell bent for leather – driving fast
  • Hiding in the grass – police parked on a median strip
  • Hiding in the bushes, sitting under the leaves – hidden police car
  • Highball – drive non-stop to the destination
  • High Rise – large bridge or overpass
  • Hippie Chippie – female hitchhiker
  • Hip Pocket – glove box
  • Hit the cobblestones – hit the road
  • Hog – Harley Davidson
  • Home Twenty – location of your home
  • How tall are you? – How tall is your truck?
  • Hundred mile coffee – very strong coffee
  • Ice Box – Refrigerated trailer.
  • Idiot Box – TV set
  • In a short – soon
  • In a short-short – very soon
  • In the mud – noise on the channel
  • In the Pokey with Smokey – arrested
  • Jack – good friend
  • Jack Rabbit – police officers
  • Jam – deliberately interfere with another station.
  • Japanese toy – CB
  • Jargon – CB lingo
  • Jaw Jacking – talking, talking needlessly
  • Jewelry – lights on a rig
  • Jingle – call on the telephone
  • Johnny Law – police officer
  • Juke Joint – small or out-of-the-way place to eat
  • Jump Down – switch to a lower channel
  • Jump Up – switch to a higher channel
  • Keep “˜em Between the Ditches – have a safe trip
  • Keep the shiny side up and the greasy side down – drive safely
  • Keep the wheels spinning – drive safely
  • Keep your noise between the ditches and smokey out of your britches – drive carefully, lookout for police
  • Keying the mike – activating the microphone without speaking
  • Kicker – Linear amplifier
  • Kiddie car – school bus
  • Knock the stack out – speed up
  • Knuckle Buster – fight
  • Kojak – police officer
  • Kojak with a Kodak – policeman with a radar
  • Lady Bear – female police officer
  • Lady Breaker – Ffemale CB operator asking for a break.
  • Lame – broken down vehicle
  • Land Line – telephone
  • Land Yacht – mobile home or camper
  • Lane Flipper – car or truck that keeps changing lanes
  • Lane Lover – driver who will not get out of the lane
  • Latrine Lips – radio operator who cusses
  • Let the channel roll – it’s ok to break in and request use of the channel
  • Legal Beagle – person who always follows the rules
  • Lettuce – money
  • Lights green, bring on the machine – road is clear of police and other slowdowns
  • Linear – RF amplifier
  • Little Bear – local police officer
  • Little Beaver – daughter
  • Little Bit – prostitute
  • Little Brother – friend
  • Local Bear – local police officer
  • Local Yokel – small town police officer
  • Log some Z’s – get some sleep
  • Loot Limo – armored car
  • M20 – place to meet
  • Magic Mile – the end of a trip
  • Mama – girlfriend or wife
  • Mama Bear – female police officer
  • Man in White – doctor
  • Mashing the mike – keying the mike (usually without talking)
  • Meatwagon – ambulance.
  • Modulate – talk
  • Modulating – talking
  • Money Bus – armored truck
  • Motion Lotion – fuel
  • Motorcycle Mama – woman riding on a motorcycle
  • Muck Truck – cement truck
  • Nap Trap – hotel or other place to sleep
  • Negative – no
  • Negative Copy – did not hear
  • Neon, Freon, Ion Jockey – truck driver with many lights on his rig
  • Nightcrawlers – many police in the area
  • Niner – channel 9
  • Ninety Weight – alcohol
  • Oil burner – diesel truck
  • On the by or on the standby – listening but not talking.
  • One foot on the floor, one hanging out the door, and she just won’t do no more – driving as fast as I can
  • Other Half – girlfriend or wife
  • Out – through transmitting
  • Over – your turn to transmit
  • Over modulation – talking so loud that audio is distorted
  • Pack it in – ending transmission
  • Pair of sevens – no contact or answer
  • Papa Bear – state trooper with CB radio
  • Paper hanger – police giving ticket
  • Parking Lot – traffic jam
  • Pavement Princess – prostitute
  • Peanut butter in his ears – is not listening
  • Pedal to the metal – drive fast
  • Peeling Off – getting of the freeway
  • Plain Wrapper – unmarked police car
  • Play Dead – stand by
  • Picture taking machine – radar
  • Pit Stop – stop for a bathroom break
  • Popcorn – hal
  • Porcupine – cr with a lot of antennas on it
  • Pounding the pavement – waking
  • Press some sheets – slep
  • Pull the hammer back – slow down
  • Pull the plug – signoff and turn the radio off
  • Put an eyeball on him – saw or see
  • Put it on the floor and looking for some more – trying to drive as fast as possible
  • QSL Card – Personalized postcard sent to confirm a conversation
  • QSK – break
  • QRM – nise or interference
  • Q-R-Mary – nose or interference
  • QSY – changing channels/frequency.
  • QRT – signing off
  • QRX – wait
  • QSB – nise
  • QSO – conversation
  • QTH – location
  • Quasar – female
  • Radio Runt – child breaking in on a channel.
  • Rain Locker – shower
  • Rake the leaves – last vehicle in a convoy
  • Ratchet-Jaw – non-stop talker
  • REACT – Radio Emergency Associated Citizens Teams
  • Rebound – return trip
  • Red Lighted – pulled over by police
  • REST – Radio Emergency Safety Teams
  • RF – Radio Frequency
  • Road Jockey – truck driver
  • Road Ranger – police officer
  • Rock – slang for crystal
  • Rockin’ chair – car in the middle of a convoy
  • Roger – O.K.
  • Roller Skate – car
  • Rolling – driving
  • Rolling Bears – police officers driving
  • Rugrats – children
  • Rubberneckers – onlookers
  • Running Barefoot – using a radio at the legal output
  • Running on rags – driving a vehicle with little to no tread on the tires.
  • Running Shotgun – driving partner
  • San Quentin Jailbait – under age female hitch hiker
  • Seatcover – good looking female
  • Shaking the windows – loud and clear reception
  • Shim – illegally amplified transmitter
  • Shoot the breeze – casual conversation
  • Shovelling coal – speeding up
  • Show-off lane – passing lane
  • Skip – atmospheric conditions that cause signals to travel much farther than they normally would
  • Skippers – radio operators talking long distance
  • Sidedoor – oassing lane
  • Sitting in the saddle – middle truck in a convoy
  • “S” Meter – meter on your radio which which indicates the signal strength
  • Smokey – State Police
  • Smokey Bear – State Police
  • Smokey report – police location report
  • Smokey Dozing – police sitting in a parked car
  • Smokey’s thick – police are everywhere
  • Smokey with a camera – police with radar
  • Smokey with ears – policeman with CB radio in their car
  • Somebody stepped on you – someone transmitted while you were talking
  • Splatter – bleedover from another channel
  • Squelch – control on radio which silences the speaker until a signal of a certain strength breaks through it
  • Three’s and eights – signing off, best wishes
  • Thin – very weak signal
  • Twelves – I have company present
  • Twenty – Location
  • Two Stool beaver – very fat woman
  • Uncle Charlie – FCC
  • Walking on you – someone talking over you
  • Wall-to-wall and treetop tall – strong, clear signal
  • Wall-to-wall and ten feet tall – strong clear signal
  • Warden – girlfriend or wife
  • Watch the pavement – drive safely
  • Water hole – truck stop
  • Wear your bumper out – following too close
  • Wearing socks – has linear amplifier
  • What am I putting on you? – how strong is my signal
  • What’s your twenty? – what is your location
  • Whip – long cb antenna
  • Who do you pull for? – who do you work for?
  • Wooly Bear – female
  • Z’s – Sleep

In addition to CB radio slang, CB radio operators used a series of “10 codes” similar to the codes used by emergency radio operators.

The Complete CB 10 codes
  • 10-1 Receiving Poorly
  • 10-2 Receiving Well
  • 10-3 Stop Transmitting
  • 10-4 Ok, Message Received
  • 10-5 Relay Message
  • 10-6 Busy, Stand By
  • 10-7 Out of Service, Leaving Air
  • 10-8 In Service, subject to call
  • 10-9 Repeat Message
  • 10-10 Transmission Completed, Standing By
  • 10-11 Talking too Rapidly
  • 10-12 Visitors Present
  • 10-13 Advise weather/road conditions
  • 10-16 Make Pickup at…
  • 10-17 Urgent Business
  • 10-18 Anything for us?
  • 10-19 Nothing for you, return to base
  • 10-20 My Location is ……… or What’s your Location?
  • 10-21 Call by Telephone
  • 10-22 Report in Person too ……
  • 10-23 Stand by
  • 10-24 Completed last assignment
  • 10-25 Can you Contact …….
  • 10-26 Disregard Last Information/Cancel Last Message/Ignore
  • 10-27 I am moving to Channel ……
  • 10-28 Identify your station
  • 10-29 Time is up for contact
  • 10-30 Does not conform to FCC Rules
  • 10-32 I will give you a radio check
  • 10-33 Emergency Traffic at this station
  • 10-34 Trouble at this station, help needed
  • 10-35 Confidential Information
  • 10-36 Correct Time is ………
  • 10-38 Ambulance needed at ………
  • 10-39 Your message delivered
  • 10-41 Please tune to channel ……..
  • 10-42 Traffic Accident at ……….
  • 10-43 Traffic tie-up at ………
  • 10-44 I have a message for you
  • 10-45 All units within range please report
  • 10-50 Break Channel
  • 10-62 Unable to copy, use phone
  • 10-62sl unable to copy on AM, use Sideband – Lower (not an official code)
  • 10-62su unable to copy on AM, use Sideband – Upper (not an official code)
  • 10-65 Awaiting your next message/assignment
  • 10-67 All units comply
  • 10-70 Fire at …….
  • 10-73 Speed Trap at …………
  • 10-75 You are causing interference
  • 10-77 Negative Contact
  • 10-84 My telephone number is ………
  • 10-85 My address is ………..
  • 10-91 Talk closer to the mike
  • 10-92 Your transmitter is out of adjustment
  • 10-93 Check my frequency on this channel
  • 10-94 Please give me a long count
  • 10-95 Transmit dead carrier for 5 sec.
  • 10-99 Mission completed, all units secure
  • 10-100 Need to take a break
  • 10-200 Police needed at ……….

How to operate a CB radio

There it an etiquette that CB radio operators follow in order to be “polite” and courteous to the other CB radio users.  The following rules should always be followed.

  • When two or more people are talking on a channel they are said to “own the channel”.  FCC regulations require they give other users an opportunity to use the channel so they should not hold the channel hostage for more than several minutes.
  • CB radio users should not “step on” other units.  “Step on” means to transmit at the same time another radio operator is transmitting.  They should also never key over someone else.
  • If you hear one unit break for another unit, give some time for the unit to respond before you say anything yourself.  It may take a radio user time to grab the mic or get from the kitchen to the living room radio unit.
  • After your break has been acknowledged, keep the next transmission short.  For example, a break might go something like this: “Break one-nine for Super Trooper.  Super Trooper, do you have your ears on?”.  if Super Trooper does not answer after a minute or so, it is nice to acknowledge that you are finished by saying something like “thanks for the break”.
  • If you are carrying on a conversation and someone “walks over” you, you have one of two options.  You can ask the person you were speaking to to repeat.  For example, “10-9, you were stepped on.  Please repeat”.  Alternatively, you can hand the channel over to the breaker.
  • If your break is not acknowledged, wait several minutes before attempting to contact them again.

Enough of the CB craze in the 1970s in the USA…

Of course, today is quite different. There are all sorts of systems competing for our telecommunication needs. They vary from Skype to zoom, and everything in between.

Dilbert.

But I live in China, and EVERYONE uses WeChat.

Man oh man! 

WeChat is far more than I ever realized it was, and I have to tell you all that I am just blown away by some of the many features and functions that it has. And you all must realize that I have been using it for many, many years.

Over a decade.

So whether you have the APP, or are considering the APP, check out this “discovery tour” of WeChat.

First off, it’s a handy communication platform.

Duh! In fact, I will tell you that it is an all-in-one phone, instant messaging, video conference, and teleconference package.

All for free.

No costs to use.

You see, in China, the government has decreed that communication is a basic right and need. It should not be part of a for-profit model.

Sure, in the “old days” you used to have to pay for landlines, and maintenance, but now, since the infrastructure is in place, the costs to use this (and other applications) this APP is free to communicate with.

While my cell-phone certainly has telephony (telephone access), I find that it is often far easier to just  communicate back and forth with people using WeChat.

You just select your contact… and you can call, text, video immediately with zero charges anywhere in the world…

Connect with your friends.

But it’s more than that. You see you can have family, business, or friends groupings.

And while I am sure that it is available on other APP platforms, it’s just so deliciously easy to use on WeChat. You set up a group call, a group chat, a group message board, or a group video. Oh, and did I say that it’s all free?

The WeChat group chat, text, phone, or video are all so very easy to set up and use. It’s almost instinctive.

Now, these two aspects of the entire WeChat platform are reason enough to have it on your phone. If that’s all that you ever use your phone for, then it is most certainly worth it.

But there’s so much more.

You see, there’s all kinds of things that you can do when you are chatting on the phone using WeChat. It’s more than just chatting away.

You can text while chatting, video while chatting, translate things while chatting, read a text in Icelandic and have it instantly translated into English.

You can point your phone at a strange road sign in Afghanistan and have it instantly translated, and if you are unable to see the translation, it will read the translation out to you in English for you.

Translate Text

Sometimes you will get messages in Chinese and, unless you can read Chinese characters fluently, this can be a problem.

So, WeChat has added this feature that will translate messages for you. Press and hold on the message you want to translate and then select the right arrow and then press ‘Translate’ and it will automatically translate the message.

So there’s a message.

You click on it, and select translate.

Translate.

And low and behold, it will translate to your assigned default language on your phone. Pretty cool. I will tell you that living inside of China, I use this feature extensively. But also when I travel to Thailand, Japan, Korea, or Saudi Arabia it most certainly comes in handy.

Scan

One of the most used applications inside of China is the scan function. You scan for everything. You scan to enter buildings.

You scan to pay.

You scan to get information.

You scan to visit internet and government websites. All you need to is go to the top of the APP and click on Scan QR Code

.

And then scan the code. It’s just like this…

Scan the QR code.

Now…

Here’s a power tip.

Scan and Translate

Can’t read the instructions or menus in China?

China’s most popular social platform offers AR-based real-time translation.

This feature can be accessed from the scan feature in the upright corner, which is regularly used to scan QR codes.

To use the real-time translator, simply capture an image of anything with either Chinese or English text in it, operating on a point and translate model.

First, go to the + sign > Scan > Translate, Then take a photo to translate or select a photo from your gallery. Finally, wait for the text to be translated and understand the text in English.

The default is on the lower left. It will scan the QR code. However, if you click on “Translate”, something else happens… [1] You are prompted to take a photo.

Take a photo.
[2] It is translated for you.

Currently, WeChat Translate only supports Chinese and English, it works similarly to the Waygo App, which was designed to help non-Chinese speakers translate food menus and signs. An indication that WeChat wants to appeal to foreign users and tourists living in China.

WeChat’s trend of taking successful features from apps and integrating the technology into their platform shows their ambition to grow and compete with US tech giants: Google, Snapchat and Instagram.

However, WeChat still has a long way to go to reach the levels of Google Translate augmented reality feature, which now supports 30 languages.

Translate Image Text

“Translate Image Text” is another cool hidden feature that you will want to know. Instead of scanning and translating, you can now choose any image that you have in either your phone gallery or chat and long-press until the menu appears with the option of translate image to text. [1] Pull up the image. [2] Long press until the menu comes up. [3] Translate. Now, all this is really cool, but that all isn’t the really great stuff. Let’s get to some of the really cool things…

Voice messages to text

I use this all the time. It’s a dictation feature on the text messaging section of WeChat. You just click on the button and dictate. What you speak is automatically converted from voice to text, and you can send the message so easily. It sure beats the singular thumb method of typing on a little screen.

This voice input function allows users to speak into WeChat and immediately convert their words into text. All you have to do is to long-press the voice message button, say what you want to be translated to text and just before letting go, swipe up and right and let go when you reach the bubble on the right side. 

WeChat voice to text feature.

Shazam

Want to find the name for that TV show you’re watching? Under the Shake feature you can also select ‘TV show’ and, when you shake, WeChat will act like Shazam and tell you the name of the TV show you’re watching.

What’s that show, or that song?

It is also useful for Douxing videos, music and many other things. This is a great way to identify music you like on a video. Because when the answer comes up, a link is provided to the QQ application that allows you to put that particular song in your play list.

More, more and MORE!

There is so much more that you can do. From sharing videos to creating facebook like environments, to group collaborating to dressing up and editing presentations.

It’s an all inclusive complete platform. But I am really not up to go through all the nuiances of it. Others have, and they have been doing a better job than I.

Let me just say that time has changes, and the advances in technology are truly wonderful.

Let’s appreciate what they are and use them to the fullest, so that we can benefit from their use.

Becuase sooner or later they will go away and be replaced with something different. And you will long for the days that you have RIGHT NOW.

Enjoy what you have and eat it all up!

It’s a new world

As some of these meme’s attest to… Great cat, by the way. Some of these are just funny… I suppose there are many more… As I said. Some are really spot on…

Well all this talk about communicaiton makes me hungry…

Maybe something simple delicious and easy to make. Maybe something a little bit like this…

An easy to make, healthy and delicious meal.

It’s better than fast food, I’ll tell you what. However, if you really are in the mood, why not make a home made pizza? It’s not all that hard, and it’s cheap. If you make the dough from scratch a entire pizza is only a few dollars tops. Maybe something like this…

Homemade pizza.

Of course, while you are a smunching, you can go forth and invite some friends over to your porch and “shoot the breeze”… you know, talk a bit. It doesn’t matter what you talk about. Just chat. Everyone has things to say. Just listen. Maybe you can impress them with your local knowledge. Maybe something like this… .

Maybe if they are some neighborhood kids, you can teach them how to whittle, or something similiar.

Most kids these days need some real uncle-like behaviors in their neighborhoods.

Don’t wait for others to take action.

You go ahead and do it yourself. Whittle.

Whittling.

Just take the time and make friends.

Whittling.

.

And you know, it doesn’t hurt to smoke a cigarette, drink a beer, or share a pizza with some neighborhood friends.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Happiness Index here… Life & Happiness .

Articles & Links

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The long years by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. It takes you to a point in time. It’s about being alone. I do hope that you appreciate this story like I do. It’s a great story that takes place on Mars. This is in PDF format for easy reading.

The long years

Ray Bradbury

 

Conclusion

It’s a very short story.

I think that this story stands alone on it’s own merits.

Loneliness is an unpleasant emotional response to perceived isolation. Loneliness is also described as social pain—a psychological mechanism which motivates individuals to seek social connections. It is often associated with an unwanted lack of connection and intimacy. Loneliness overlaps and yet is distinct from solitude. Solitude is simply the state of being apart from others; not everyone who experiences solitude feels lonely. As a subjective emotion, loneliness can be felt even when surrounded by other people; one who feels lonely, is lonely. The causes of loneliness are varied. They include social, mental, emotional, and environmental factors. 

- Wikipedia

Today’s society insists that we communicate via e-mail and social media. But face to face, in depth human to human contact is what we require. Accept that fact and do everything in your power to make sure that you are never, ever alone. Your strength is your community.

Never forget that.

 

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I have more posts in my Ray Bradbury Index here…

Ray Bradbury

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There will come the soft rains by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. It takes you to a point in time. It’s about a life after the insanity of mad kings and corrupt politicians. I do hope that you appreciate this story like I do.

Especially since it takes place in America in the year 2026

There will come the soft rains

Ray Bradbury

 

Conclusion

It’s a very short story.

I think that this story stands alone on it’s own merits.

People have forgotten. The American leadership has forgotten what a cold war was, and the threat of any day having your complete life turned upside down by nuclear war. This week, America is going to base it’s nuclear SLBM missile subs in Australia, and Australia agrees to host the systems.

Jesus!

This kind of nuclear-war level posturing is dangerous. On one hand Biden says that “America doesn’t want war”, on the other hand, it was one year after it launched three lethal bio-weapons strains on China. And is placing nuclear weapons in the QUAD that rings the Chinese mainland.

Do they think that the rest of the world is as ignorant as the dumbed-down Americans are?

I guess so.

The United States is a run-away train and it ain’t stopping or slowing down for shit. The final crash is going to be spectacular, and horrific at the same time. This story here describes that aftermath.

Ray Bradbury’sThere Will Come Soft Rains” tells the story of a house that has survived a nuclear blast in the year 2026. The house has automated systems, not unlike a modern-day smart home. Each day, the house makes the beds, cooks dinner, and throws out the trash—despite the fact that its owners have died.

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The Luggage Store by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. As I reread this story, I couldn’t help but relive the “news” that enters my feeds on a daily basis. It sounds so familiar. It’s just hard to believe that this story was written in the 1950’s. I do hope that you appreciate this story like I do.

THE LUGGAGE STORE

Ray Bradbury

 

It  was   a   very  remote  thing,  when  the  luggage-store

proprietor heard  the  news  on the night radio, received all the

way from  Earth  on  a  light-sound beam. The proprietor felt how

remote it was.

There was going to be a war on Earth.

      He went out to peer into the sky.

Yes,  there   it   was.   Earth,  in  the  evening  heavens,

following the  sun  into  the  hills.  The words on the radio and

that green star were one and the same.

“I don’t believe it,” said the proprietor.

“It’s because  you’re  not  there,”  said  Father Peregrine,

who had stopped by to pass the time of evening.

“What do you mean, Father?”

“It’s like  when  I  was  a boy,” said Father Peregrine. “We

heard about  wars  in  China.  But we never believed them. It was

too  far   away.  And  there  were  too  many  people  dying.  It

was impossible.  Even  when  we saw the motion pictures we didn’t

believe it.  Well,  that’s how it is now. Earth is China. It’s so

far away  it’s  unbelievable.  It’s not here. You can’t touch it.

You can’t  even  see  it.  All  you  see  is  a  green light. Two

billion people  living  on  that  light?  Unbelievable!  War?  We

don’t hear the explosions.”

“We will,”  said  the  proprietor.  “I  keep  thinking about

all those  people  that  were  going  to  come to Mars this week.

What was  it?  A  hundred  thousand  or  so coming up in the next

month or so. What about _them_ if the war starts?”

“I imagine they’ll turn back. They’ll be needed on Earth.”

“Well,” said  the  proprietor,  “I’d  better  get my luggage

dusted off.  I  got  a  feeling  there’ll be a rush sale here any

time.”

“Do you  think  everyone  now  on Mars will go back to Earth

if this _is_ the Big War we’ve all been expecting for years?”

“It’s a  funny  thing,  Father, but yes, I think we’ll _all_

go  back.   I   know,   we   came   up  here  to  get  away  from

things–politics,  the   atom   bomb,   war,   pressure   groups,

prejudice, laws–I  know.  But  it’s  still  home there. You wait

and see.  When  the  first  bomb  drops  on America the people up

here’ll start  thinking.  They  haven’t  been  here  long enough.

A couple  years  is  all.  If  they’d been here forty years, it’d

be different,  but  they  got  relatives  down  there,  and their

home towns.  Me,  I  can’t  believe  in  Earth  any more; I can’t

imagine it  much.  But  I’m  old.  I don’t count. I might stay on

here.”

“I doubt it.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.”

They  stood   on  the  porch  watching  the  stars.  Finally

Father Peregrine  pulled  some  money  from his pocket and handed

it to  the  proprietor.  “Come  to think of it, you’d better give

me a new valise. My old one’s in pretty bad condition. . . .”

The End

Conclusion

It’s a very short story.

Do you really think that if you were living off in a far away nation, and war broke out on American soil, that you would leave and return to America?

I don’t.

I’m in China. America is thrashing and snarling. It is going bat-shit-crazy and the LAST thing that I want to do is return to that cesspool of greedy ignorant psychopathic monsters.

Never the less, this story was written at a different time, in a different place, and the values reflected in this story has long since disappeared from the world. It’s all gone like whispers and vapor.

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Some videos of Chinese Military showing the real deal in context to what is going on today

This is a massive article concerning China, and it’s military. And the point that I want to make is that China is a perfect organism wholly designed to prevent anyone from attacking it. It is like a vicious animal with spikes, poison, and large sharp teeth. Only a fool would want to attack it. It’s defensive. And I have a lot to say about this subject, as well as a ton load of videos to watch as well.

Poor countries are supposed to stay poor so that they can be exploited indefinitely for cheap labor and resources. When a poor country starts to pull itself out of poverty, that country will soon be pulled back down again through a mixture of warfare, sabotage, sanctions, and propaganda...all under the pretext of "protecting human rights." China has defied this rule by making itself wealthy. Accordingly, the propaganda directed toward it will only intensify.

Posted by: Donbass Lives Matter | Sep 1 2021 22:17 utc | 50

Keep in mind that you cannot learn things by only looking at one singular aspects. you must see the big picture, and then put the focus on the little aspects as they fall within that big picture. So this large article is going to cover other tangential things that help give you a better appreciation for the much bigger picture that is omitted in modern contemporaneous dialog today.

But first, I want to relate a little story.

The tale of Frank

When I was growing up, there was this man who lived with my maternal grandmother. She was my mother’s mother, and there was this guy called “Frank” who lived in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

My mother called him Frank. My grandmother called him Frank. My brothers and sisters called him Frank. My aunties and my uncles called him Frank. My parents called him Frank. No one said anything else at all about his relationship with my grandmother.

I assumed that, since he went by his first name only, he wasn’t a close friend. Because in the United States, close male friends are referred to by their last name. While close girl friends are referred to their first name.

He wasn’t an uncle, as all my uncles went by the name “uncle” followed by their first name. As in “Uncle Robert”, “Uncle Ralston”, and “Uncle Sonny”. In fact, my grandmother’s brothers and sisters were still alive, and I called them “Uncle Eddie” and such.

So I figured that he was a renter who helped my grandmother pay the rent.

Long afterwards, when my grandmother had a stroke, and died, I attended her funeral. And there she was laid next to Frank, who was, after all, my maternal grandfather!

And this surprised me.

And when I mentioned it, I was hounded and ridiculed and given so much shit. I will tell you that it was horrible and ruthless, and just obnoxious. What was I supposed to know? Make assumptions, absorb the relationship by osmosis? Jeeze!

There is a reason… a REASON… why there are job titles, positions titles, business cards, name plates, and all the rest in regards to family and business relationships.

It’s important.

It adds another dimensions to the relationships that will enable us to better understand things. For once you understand the deeper relationships behind something, you can better understand the events, and items and how they all fit together as part of the unified whole.

Think about that for a minute.

As it pertains to everything.

Here’s some Chinese military videos. Some are recruitment videos. Some are narrative videos. Some are “fan” videos. Some are something else entirely. In any event, these videos give a person a fairly good overview impression of the kind of military that China has.

China isn’t anything like what is portrayed. China does not play “nice”. Especially when it comes to defending China from crazed manicidal psychopathic wanna-be-Rambos.

And keep in mind that China is truly playing for “keeps”. If anyone wants to fuck with them, they will fuck you right back. Smartly.

Defensive Forces

If we talk about "representative government" we have to ask what kind of representation the weakest individual in society can get. I would submit that in the US the answer is laughable. In China, which takes surveys endlessly, prolifically and as a vital part of analysis and the systematic, results-based development of policy, one can argue very well that the weakest individual is much better represented than in the US.

Fact is, no one wants democracy. What anybody wants is good representative government.

Posted by: Grieved | Sep 2 2021 3:47 utc | 80

China possesses “defensive forces”.

Note that they are not “expeditionary forces”. They are harsh defensive forces and have no qualms about slaughtering anyone who tries to attack China in any way.

If you attack China, and China considers Taiwan PART of China, it will go nuclear in a nano-second.

China is NOT the USA. Do not believe the neocon propaganda about Taiwan this, or Taiwan that. China will take over the island in a matter or hours, and the world will left reeling. Those that want to get involved will be slaughtered mercilessly.

Listen up Japan!

Listen up Australia!

I am talking to you.  As well as your bosses on K-street in Washington DC.

So forget any fantasies about peasants with mass-produced AK-47 clones. China will fiercely decimate enemy force with tactical and theater neutron munitions from the “get go”.

A neutron bomb, officially defined as a type of enhanced radiation weapon (ERW), is a low-yield thermonuclear weapon designed to maximize lethal neutron radiation in the immediate vicinity of the blast while minimizing the physical power of the blast itself. 

The neutron release generated by a nuclear fusion reaction is intentionally allowed to escape the weapon, rather than being absorbed by its other components. 

The neutron burst, which is used as the primary destructive action of the warhead, is able to penetrate enemy armor more effectively than a conventional warhead, thus making it more lethal as a tactical weapon. 

-Wikipedia

The mere fact that no American strategic planners are taking into account this long standing military policy (since 1977, I believe) just shows how oblivious the planners are on K-street and in the Pentagon are.

Oblivious.

As in moronically blind to reality.

Somehow these morons believe that a war with China, on Chinese soil, will be a long-drawn out conventional war, in a far away land. Sort of like a larger Afghanistan.

Effects of a Neutron Bomb

The New York Times reported that “the nuclear weaponeers have unfolded a new brainchild, the neutron bomb, which will kill people while preserving buildings, tanks, and artillery.” 

-Air Force Magazine

Neutrons scattered around after the neutron bomb explodes, in soil, metals, food, etc. activates neutrons; this neutron activation is 10 times higher than that of an atom bomb.

The so-called neutron activation causes inanimate bodies to emit secondary gamma rays.

Thus, the Neutron bomb causes damage due to both neutron beams and gamma rays.

Since neutrons make the objects they hit emit gamma rays, each object becomes a mini-bomb after the neutron bomb is dropped and starts to emit gamma rays.

Lovely.

Who’d figure that your iPhone and Alexia would someday actually kill you?

Chinese DF-16 tactical surface to surface conventional and nuclear weapon.

The first effect of the neutron bomb is to scatter fast neutrons and gamma photons. The irradiation dose is up to hundreds of thousands of rad (radiation units) in open air beyond the explosion and thermal irradiation distance (150-300 m.). Let us remind that human beings die even in the face of neutron irradiation higher than 300 rad.

Fast neutrons are exposed to elastic scattering in the nuclei of light atoms, during which rebound protons are released, protons are strongly ionizing particles.

Thus, human beings are exposed to a strongly ionizing radiation.

As protons move through human tissues, they cause havoc with a very high energy per unit path. Not only that, the nuclei of some biological tissues become radioactive by capturing neutrons, as a result, countless radioactive foci appear in the human body, each of human tissues becomes a mini-bomb and begins to self-destruct with dangerous rays.

Herein lies one of the greatest dangers of neutrons; Neutrons strike living or non-living objects, making the atoms in front of them radioactive.

These atoms start to emit lethal rays and countless mini-bombs are born.

After the neutron bomb was dropped, buildings, tanks, etc. It is said that it will remain the same. In fact, both corpses and these inanimate things will become radioactive. Both the removal of the corpses, these buildings, tanks and so on. entering into it will mean receiving a high dose of lethal radiation.

Non-living things that remain intact can only be used with special protective clothing without irradiation.

One of the purposes of using neutron bombs is to instantly turn those who are exposed to the neutron into the living and dead.

The DF-10 can really turn your day into a neutron-saturated toasty BBQ.

The Neutron bomb alone can turn people into this. Other “normal” nuclear bombs cause burns and wounds with the heat of the explosion wave and glare and kill them immediately.

With the effect of radiation, neutrons will enter the brain and destroy the electrical connections of the nerve cells. Computers and electronic devices exposed to strong radiation will stop immediately.

Yeah.

That means all cars, internet, home appliances, televisions, radio, stop lights, alarm systems, electronic doors, elevators, and aircraft. It’s sort of like an EMF weapon only with the extra bonus of making everything highly radioactive.

Those exposed to a radiation of 3000 rad will remain unconscious for 3-7 minutes, then sober up…

… great. Right?

Not so fast…

…. within a week they will die of gastrointestinal bleeding; The entire digestive system from mouth to anus will become an open wound, the kidney and heart will weaken and the patient will bleed and die in fever.

Those who are exposed to 650 rad will not have an immediate effect, but the bone marrow that makes the blood cells will dry, the old blood cells will survive another 25-30 days after the irradiation, but their division will stop, the patient will die in 4-5 weeks as a result of anemia and inability to defend against germs.

That is…

…unless they have some mRNA modification that compensates for this effect.

Hum…

Anyways…

According to the British geneticist J. Edwards, the most terrible aspect of the Neutron bomb is this: The neutron bomb is such a bomb that its effect is not limited in time, after the Neutron bomb is dropped, many generations will be born as cripples and monsters, it is not up to anyone to prevent this, rays.

This painful consequence is inevitable as it destroys heredity molecules (genes).

The destruction will be the most in regions (cities) where people live densely.

All living things in an area of ​​8 km2 will die in 2-3 days at the latest as a result of lethal rays. In an additional area of ​​10 km2, 1-100 rad rays will be received. 2-3 km.

The Neutron bomb, thrown at intervals, will kill anyone caught outdoors.

Radiation at a distance of 400 meters from the explosion point of a 1 kiloton Neutron bomb is 418,000 rad. Even in a shelter reducing radiation 500 times, the dose would be 836 rad, which is twice the minimum lethal dose.

According to the American scientist A. Westing, a 1 kiloton neutron weapon will destroy 310 hectares of pine forests, 170 hectares of deciduous forest and 140 hectares of grassland, and it will take centuries to replace them.

In short…

… a neutron bomb is a far more lethal weapon than an atomic or hydrogen bomb. And the Chinese field these weapons on a tactical basis all over China. If you try to attack China, they will not scurry into a hamlet behind the donkeys and sheep (Syrian style)…

No, instead, they will start launching a barrage of neutron hyper-velocity missiles at you. And there will be NO place to hide.

The Chinese DF-12 surface to surface, short range ballistic missiles that can carry neutron warheads.

The good news is that you will have enough time to pray for a quick death.

That will be the best you can do. You wouldn’t dare pick up your rifle, pistol, or get into a vehicle. All that metal and material will be irradiating the shit out of you. That’s right. All the metal near you would be acting like one giant X-ray and microwave beaming radiation right at you.

China is an organism

In China…

Everyone works together and they are very, very patriotic.  Of course no one in the West understands this. It’s dog-eat-dog, and fight to be the “lone wolf”. You don’t kick an organized hornet’s nest and not expect to get stung.

Check out this video below…

The Chinese work together as one.

Nice. True. Historical.

China, the Chinese people act as one singular organism together.

And, you know what, it is even MORE SO NOW TODAY.

The Chinese learn from an early age

From the time they are able to walk, all the Chinese are taught to work hard, study, and be aggressive in everything that they do.

This is not a land of coddled wealthy, or diversity overweight wooble jaumbas.It’s not a land of prep-boys, or “silver spoon in the mouth” elitist “blue bloods”. It’s a land full of the hardiest people that you ever met, who are also the smartest people who you have ever met, and who also are the most determined people who you have ever met.

And what’s more…

These people are taught to live for the community. To fight for the community. To do the best for the community, and if necessary to die for the community.

Check out what it is like for those in kindergarten… Pretty amazing for four and five year olds. Please watch the entire video.

In kindergarten.

The Chinese students can only play electronic games during certain hours

Oh, you think that China isn’t serious?

My eyes almost popped out of my head when I read "Gamers under 18 will only be allowed to play online between 8:00 pm and 9:00 pm on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays". Real leadership... in 2021... I am flabbergasted.

I am a high school science and math teacher in Australia. That single policy in itself is game over.

Posted by: Rae | Sep 1 2021 21:15 utc | 38

And…

Earlier a math teacher stopped by to praise the new time limits on video gaming for young folks in China. I add my own 'bravo' to that.

And here's another one---the Chinese crackdown on celebrity 'culture'.

The Chinese National Radio and Television Administration on Thursday enhanced management on entertainment programs and related personnel, calling for boycott against individuals with illegal or immoral records, sky-high prices for stars and abnormal appreciation of niangpao, or feminine men.

How much of the West's descent into unimaginable societal degradation is due to young kids being raised, for generations now, not by attentive parents, but by TV and Hollywood?

The so-called popular 'culture' has long since imposed itself into the family home and pushed out the role of parents as guides for impressionable young folks.

Some have mentioned the west's dismal STEM graduate production. How are young people supposed to have an interest in math and science when most just want to be 'celebrities'? Or at least social media 'influencers'?

Like everything in society, from financial greed to bringing up children, things cannot be simply left to chance. That produces a garden full of weeds and thorns.

The CPC is truly a shining light in today's world!

Posted by: Gordog | Sep 2 2021 6:09 utc | 90

The Chinese exercise from an early age too

Physical health and well being is important to the Chinese. No couch-potatoes allowed. Every single school, at every single level performs strict dance, exercise and martial arts routines. All of them do this. They do this six days a week every single day.

Watch this video and be amazed!

Everyone exercises.

The Chinese can build up enormous constructions from scratch

Remember all those “Ghost cities” that the BBC, CNN and FOX “news” were all making fun of? Remember them. Oh, you don’t hear much about them today do you? Why not? Why isn’t the “news” getting right in front of China’s “grill” and bad mouthing them about “Ghost Cities”?

This is why…

They aren’t ghost cities any longer. Watch the video and be amazed.

A Ghost City.

As a result of US sanctions against Chinese companies, China is developing its own technology to cater for its internal market. Low cost, not Western, no manual. 

Low cost, because at the volumes of the Chinese internal market even a saving of a fraction of a cent is real money. Different from US designs, so no license fee needs to be paid. And little or no documentation in English - it's intended for the Chinese internal market.

Posted by: Passerby | Sep 1 2021 22:24 utc | 52

So you really think that the United States can compete against China?

Really? Have you seen what America has become? America is very, very weak right now. Here’s what all the major cities look like. Watch the full video.

The United States today.

Watch the full video to get the full effect. This is what America is today. And it is indicative of the culture and the society. It is a reflection of the failure of the government. Not only in structure but in the leadership.

And this nation actually believes that it is better than China is?

Well, it isn’t As clearly stated in this short video here

Video Group 1

Stuff you won’t see on FOX, CNN or the BBC.

Video Group 1

Defensive Suppressive Forces

China has a substantial sized rocket and munitions closet. All designed for mass saturation of broad swaths of terrain. These were perfected after the results of World-War II that showed how successful that the Soviet Union was in employing these weapons against the superior technological weaponry of Nazi Germany.

Check out this video

Video

 

In the American military circles this is considered worrisome, but not terribly so. The conventional belief in the Pentagon is that America would obtain dominance very quickly using the integrated computerized electronics systems and be able to use stand off drones and munitions with “pin-point” accuracy to selectively destroy any targets of this type.

I wouldn’t be so sure of this.

In a conflict between the United States and China, the United States would have ZERO “eyes in the skies”.

Video Group 2

Here’s some more videos that are worth viewing. You most certainly not see anything like it in American or western media. That’s for certain.

Video Group 2

China’s Top Rated Fighter Aircraft Chengdu J-20

The Chengdu J-20 “Mighty Dragon” (NATO Name: Black Eagle) is a single-seat, twinjet, all-weather, stealth, fifth-generation fighter aircraft developed by China’s Chengdu Aerospace Corporation for the People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF).

Video here…

Video

The J-20 is designed to execute ground attack missions even in hostile environments. The aircraft can reach higher altitudes with its delta wings in supersonic speeds. It is larger than Sukhoi T-50 and Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor. The front portion of the prototype looks similar to the F-22 Raptor and the rear section looks like a Sukhoi T-50.

According to the neocon publications out of K-street in Washington DC, the F-22 is the best thing since “sliced bread” and the Chinese is only copying it. Only doing the copying very poorly.

Conventional wisdom holds that the J-20 is currently unable to face the US Air Force's F-22 in a straight-up dogfight. 

- Business Insider

I wouldn’t be so sure about this.

The United States has a terrible problem in overestimating their capabilities and down-plying that of China (to the extreme). Just keep in mind that any war involving these aircraft will need to land. The chances are slim that there will be any place to land once a war breaks out near China.

Group 3 of videos

Check this group out.

Group 3

The Chinese main transport helicopter

It resembles an American blackhawk, but aside from the shape it is a completely different vehicle. Check out the video below…

Mainstay Chinese transport helicopter.

A nice overview of Chinese military forces

Here’s a nice fun video.

Nice overview

Chinese battle aircraft are not only state of the art, but there are thousands of them…

Oh, and yes there are. This video…

Thousands of these planes.

Japanese sub limps home from contact in the South China Sea

Just a friendly warning, I’m sure.

You won’t ever see this in FOX “news”. This video…

Japanese sub limps home.

China is a nation of STEM NERDs

Stem graduates by country 2016

China: 4.7M
India: 2.6M
U.S: 570k
Russia:561k
Iran: 335k

Now you know why Netanyahu wants us to nuke Iran so bad to eradicate them like bugs.

So the top 3 countries that we target as enemies graduate 10 times more STEM students than we, the U.S. do and half of our graduates are foreign students. This is why Iran has a domestic arms industry that includes advanced RADAR. But we are still in denial about that as evidenced by us fretting over Iran getting their hands on Humvees and M4 rifles from the Taliban.

Our view of Iran, 'I think it is some kind of magic wand that stirs up the spirit of the truck engine, try turning it and see what happens'

---------------
Now some wise guy might note that India does not have an advanced military but that's because they suffer collective Stockholm syndrome from Britain. I have no idea why they love the Brits and west so much after all they did do them.

Posted by: Christian J. Chuba | Sep 2 2021 1:13 utc | 70

But…

And last time I checked, about 15% of those STEM graduates in the USA were . . . citizens of the PRC. I'm sure a goodly number are citizens of India too.

Posted by: corvo | Sep 2 2021 1:21 utc | 71

Video Collection 4

Some zipped videos here

Group 4.

What about those TicTac’s that buzz the American naval ships?

The "Tic Tac" incident.

Date:  November  14,  2004;  Location:  Pacific  Ocean

Jack  Sarfatti  writes,  The  USS  Nimitz  UFO  incident  refers  to  a  2004  Radar-Visual  encounter  of  an  unidentified  flying  object  by  US  fighter  pilots  of  the  Nimitz  Carrier  Strike  Group.  In  December  2017,  infrared  footage  of  the  encounter  was  released  to  the  public.  Prior  to  the  December  2017 incident,  early  November  2004,    the  Ticonderoga-class  guided  missile  cruiser  USS  Princeton,  part  of  Carrier  Strike  Group  11,  had  been  tracking  mysterious  aircraft  intermittently  for  two  weeks  on  an  advanced  AN/SPY-1B  passive  radar.

And what did they see?

Well, they saw this…

US Navy buzzed by UFO.

And what does this look like?

Well, if you have been paying attention to the technical side of what China is involved in, instead of what the latest bullshit is about 5G, Huawei, the pull-out from Afghanistan, and Vaxx issues you might have noticed this…

Chinese UFO.

And this…

Chinese Flying saucer.

And I won’t say anything else.

Do I really need to?

Video collection 5

Check out these zipped videos here…

Video group 5.

Do NOT underestimate China

But then again, most MM readers realize this. It’s just the rest of the West who read the “news” and get this completely false impression and idea of what China is. It’s not even a distortion. It’s a false reality. Check out the Video.

Do NOT underestimate China

Group 7

Here’s video group 7. HERE.

Group 7

Never forget that China is a Nuclear Armed nation

Am I repeating myself?

No I am not.

At the start of this article, I simply discussed the use of tactical nuclear “neutron” bombs. These are what the army uses to take out this hill, that city, or that carrier group. They clean out the area and then move in and occupy.

But what I am referring to here is the very dangerous, mega-large hyper-velocity ten warhead, nation crusher the MIRV ICBM the DF-41. These are strategic weapons.

They are designed to wholly crush and decimate a nation.

And thanks to Trump and Biden, China is now on a massive mass production rally regarding these horrific weapons. They are churning them out so fast that if they all were to be used, the target nation would be reduced to radioactive glass.

Thank you President Trump (and his enabler Mike Pompeo).

Thank you Joe Biden (and your enabler Tom Cotton).

You see, those fucking morons who talk about war with China over Taiwan, or the South China Sea or what ever is the “reason of the day” simply omit the fact that China will BURY the United States if it attacks them.

And the result will be global devastation, but you know, China will rebuild. China can and has that ability. America will not.

That that, will be that.

Check out this video.

DF-41

Never forget the China’s military policy is to swarm and overwhelm with tons of nuclear tipped missiles

Not simply one or two relying on precision computers.

But many, many, many.

Many.

As in A lot!

This is quite different from the American strategy of full-spectrum dominance based on computers and remote sensing. China, on the other hand, believes in overwhelming the target area and saturating it with the most deadly weapons available.

Check out this video.

Deaths by swarms of nuclear missiles.

Group 8

Here’s group eight (8). Lot’s of stuff here. Check out the video here.

Group 8

China flexes sea power with new foreign ship law – Asia Times

A security measure to prevent a preemptive strike.

A new Chinese legal requirement demands that multiple classes of foreign vessels traversing waters claimed by Beijing must [1] provide detailed information to state authorities and [2] take aboard Chinese pilots.

The new maritime law, which came into legal force today (September 1), threatens to inflame South China Sea disputes pitting China and Southeast Asian nations and stoke already rising tensions with the United States in the contested waters.

On August 27, China’s Maritime Safety Administration said in a statement that five categories of foreign vessels, namely …

  • submersibles, (as in submarines and SEAL insertion submersibles)
  • nuclear-powered vessels, (as in aircraft carriers, destroyers and subs)
  • ships carrying radioactive materials,
  • ships carrying bulk oil, chemicals, liquefied gas or other toxic substances,
  • as well as vessels that may endanger China’s maritime traffic safety…

… fall under the law.

Uh oh. There goes the American Navy! especially those pesky aircraft carriers.

Foreign vessels will be required to provide information including their ship names and numbers, recent locations, satellite telephone numbers and dangerous goods, according to the statement.

If their automatic identification systems do not work properly, they will need to report to China’s maritime authorities about their locations and speeds every two hours until they leave the country’s territorial waters, the statement said.

At face value, these are not necessarily problematic provisions – unless the definition of “Chinese territorial waters” is interpreted to include nearly all of the South China Sea, as claimed in its wide-reaching and hotly contested nine-dash line.

The new rules were first made public on April 29 this year after the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress amended the Maritime Traffic Safety Law (MTSL), which was established in September 1983.

A full English version of the revised law, translated by Peking University Law School, can be seen on the website of Steamship Mutual, a mutual insurance association in the maritime space that provides risk pooling, information and representation.

Read more…..

https://asiatimes.com/2021/09/china-flexes-sea-power-with-new-foreign-ship-law/

Oh! But Japan will act as a Proxy for the United States in a Taiwan conflict, eh?

Yeah. I read the bullshit propaganda out of Japan.

So you think that Japan can invade China, or fight China? Is that what you think?

Let me tell youse all something too. Just like the Chinese students do daily exercises, and study hard, they are also exposed to what Japan did to China, and it is burned into the soul of China. And if Japan wants to take on China, well then, China will be really ROUGH  back.

Oh! You don’t believe me?

What?

You do not know what I am talking about, eh?

Watch this entire video. It’s around four minutes long. Watch it. Watch the entire thing. Now, what do you think a nuclear armed China will do to the tiny island of Japan? Watch the video.

The Japanese inside of China.

So you think that China will somehow forgive and forget with japan starts attacking the mainland?

China is ready, so is Russia.

Do you all REALLY want a war? You all want to take on China for freedom™ and democracy™? Is that what you want? Well, China just wants to be left alone, but apparently that’s not good enough is it?

I guess not.

You all want to poke the Panda. And the Panda and Russia are as one today. You poke China, and you anger the Bear. You poke the Bear and you piss off China. Washington DC will be a water-filled radioactive crater before you have the chance to say…

…”Oh. Fuck”.

Chinese Boy Scouts

Here’s what boy scouts look like in China. Are you ready to fight them? Video HERE.

Tough boy scouts.

A bunch of tough first and second grade kids. Click to download the archive of videos.

Click to download the archive.

The Neocons say that if you kill the Chinese leadership that China will crumble

It’s a fantasy with no bearing on reality what so ever.

Xi Xinping was himself molded by the CR. He was sent to live and work with the peasants in the dirt and poverty of the countryside. When he was free to return to the city, he elected to return instead to the village he had lived in, and to continue his work there. They remember him now with great love, and there are documentaries available if one wishes to search.

The national leader of China has an understanding of the supreme value of "the people over all things" ingrained into his hands with dirt and blisters and blood. He came by his understanding experientially and honestly.

~~

The Communist Party of China (CPC) has at least 90 million members. One might think that, even on the scale of China's population, joining the CPC would be a routine matter. Xi Xinping applied at least 6 times (I believe actually 10 times in all) before the Party accepted him.

He worked his way into a meritocratic organization, and has worked his way to leadership through merit.

If we wish to understand what runs China, we must know how the CPC works. Here are 3 possible introductions, from Godfree Roberts:

The Chinese Communist Party
China’s Congresses in Action
Selling Democracy to China

Posted by: Grieved | Sep 2 2021 3:46 utc | 79

Here’s group 9

And here’s some active military videos.

I am just unleashing a true “mother load” of videos today. To talk about the Taiwan and a conflict on the South China Sea then you need to understand what the “players” are and what they are capable of. And boys and girls, the Chinese do not play. they are a serious, serious nation. Check out the videos HERE.

Group 9

To Counter U.S. Hostility China Moves Towards People Centered Policies

From MoA

In December 2001 China became a member of the World Trade Organization. That opened new markets for China’s industry and attracted a lot of foreign investment.

The growth in GDP that China has achieved since is breathtaking.

This development allowed China to make enormous investments in infrastructure. It also generated the resources necessary to eliminate poverty.

It is no coincidence that this development happened while the U.S. was wasting money on wars in the Middle East. As the U.S. is now step by step retreating from those wars to confront China the country needs to prepare itself for the new environment.

The introduction of more and more capitalistic features into China’s economy over the last 20 years has created imbalances.

  • Business tried to ignore or to gain influence over government structures and regulations.
  • Companies abused their workers.
  • Speculation by rich people created bubbles in the housing markets.
  • Cultural excesses that emphasized individualism threatened national unity.

These imbalances let the description of China’s economy as ‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’ look empty.

Over the long run they would lead to dissatisfaction of a wide range of the public with the ruling political establishment. It was high time to eliminated the excesses the ultra fast development had created.

The government had to act to avoid future internal conflicts. Since the end of last year it has done so with the same efficiency that allowed it to stop and eliminate Covid-19 outbreaks. It does this ruthlessly without regards to stock values or investor interests.

Some six weeks ago I argued against Stephen S. Roach’s take on new Chinese regulations and described why the wider public in China will not care about ‘investors’ and will support those steps.

Since then the regulation campaign has continued with astonishing speed and breath. Here is a collection of headlines, published since my last take, that detail the development and the flood of new regulations and laws designed to set things right while keeping China’s economic growth going.

The new slogan for this era is now ‘common prosperity’, a policy that will reduce large wealth gaps while keeping reasonable monetary incentives and the market economy alive to allow for further development.

A pamphlet, written by a minor Maoist figure, that justifies these measures and puts them into a larger political context was widely published by Communist Party organs:

A commentary published widely in Chinese state-run media described President Xi Jinping’s regulatory crackdown as a “profound revolution” sweeping the country and warned that anyone who resisted would face punishment.

“This is a return from the capital group to the masses of the people, and this is a transformation from capital-centered to people-centered,” the commentary said, adding that it marked a return to the original intention of the Communist Party.

“Therefore, this is a political change, and the people are becoming the main body of this change again, and all those who block this people-centered change will be discarded.”

The author then goes on to set the ‘profound transformation’ into a wider, geopolitical context:

“China is currently facing an increasingly severe and complex international environment. The US has implemented military threats, economic and technological blockades, financial strikes and political and diplomatic siege against China,” Li wrote.

“The US has also launched biological warfare, cyber warfare and public opinion against China.”

“If we still have to rely on big capitalists as the main force of anti-imperialist and anti-hegemonism, or still cooperate to the US’ ‘tittytainment’ strategy, our young people will lose their strong and masculine vibes and we will collapse like the Soviet Union before we are attacked,” he said, claiming that the US had launched a color revolution against China through different channels.

The “profound transformation” underway in China aimed to respond to the US’ brutal and ferocious attacks as well as the current complicated international situation, he said.

The curbs on the entertainment sector were far from adequate as ordinary workers and people should become the main characters on screens.

People would benefit from the “common prosperity” goal after the education, medical and property sectors were reformed, he wrote.

While this sounds like Culture Revolution 2.0 it is assured that there will be no rampages of Maoist students through libraries or reeducation camps for party members.

Predatory capitalist George Soros claims in the Financial Times that these moves it will doom China’s economy. (See Michael Hudson’s counter here.) But people who, like Soros, argue against strong regulations forget that there are would be no markets without them.

Companies that only look at shareholder values are not sound and do not allow for a healthy society.

Just look Boeing and at the homeless camps in U.S. cities.

Aside from the ideological underpinning the new regulatory moves are populist. The masses will like them. They guarantee President Xi Jinping’s reelection at next year’s national party congress.

They will strengthen China’s unity in its competition with the United States.

China. Does. Not. Play.

And here’s Group 10.

You can watch the videos HERE

Group 10.

China is a very capable nation

China is cleaning up a few problems but I think it is also going into war mode.

Posted by: Peter AU1 | Sep 1 2021 22:26 utc | 53

It is a nation of hard working, martial arts trained, studious NERDS. Most of the factories are inside of China. Not what passes for “factories” in the United States today. Which for the most part is nothing more than a nice office building in a “Industrial park” that houses cubicles staffed with accountants, diversity officers, attorneys, finance and marketing folk.

China is very capable. And if you want to to toe-to-toe, and head-to-head with them you had best be ready to accept the consequences of a harsh defeat and a life as a conquered nation. Check out this video here.

Michael Hudson v. George Soros on China’s Rejection of “Market” Capitalism

Earlier this week, the Financial Times posted a comment by famed investor George Soros, Investors in Xi’s China face a rude awakening.

This article would have been very useful if it had stuck to its headline warning, which is more or less along the lines that Xi has made very clear that he’s not going to allow investors, above all foreign investors, to exercise more influence in Chinese business and society.

However, Soros then goes on in a vein that the article subhead accurately summarizes:

“The leader’s crackdown on private enterprise shows he does not understand the market economy.”

Oh, contraire, China’s success has been built on learning from the mistakes of other Asian countries that developed quickly but then fell prey to financialization, particularly Japan, and had difficulties making the transition from being export and investment led to consumption led.

In particularly, Soros is cheesed off at Xi restricting foreign investment, particularly in stocks.

First, China is a capital exporter. It doesn’t need foreign funds.

Second, despite the Anglopshere idealization of public stock markets, China doesn’t need one either, although getting rid of the one it has now would be messy and very disruptive.

As Amar Bhide pointed out in a landmark Harvard Business Review article, Efficient Markets, Deficient Governance, anonymous, freely traded shares inherently lead to poor governance.

Public companies cannot share critical business information that investors need to make informed decisions.

Transient shareholders also lack the motivation and means to improve the performance of the companies they’ve invested in.

Bhide has pointed out in other venues that while all other types of investments, such as derivatives and venture capital, existed in pre-modern times, arms length share trading did not because stock is a legally vague and weak promise.

And despite the idealization of share ownership, it’s almost entirely divorced from the funding of business. The most important source for new investment is retained earnings. Second is borrowing. Share sales are a distant third. The overwhelming majority of stock trading is shuffling paper among investors.

The most charitable interpretation of Soros’ position is that he suffers from a China version of the saying attributed to Charles Wilson, “What’s good for GM is good for America,” which here becomes, “What’s good for people like me of course is good for China.” Except as Michael Hudson explains, it isn’t.

Below are sections of the Soros article, with Hudson’s remarks in bold italics:

Xi Jinping, China’s leader, has collided with economic reality. His crackdown on private enterprise [what the classical economists called rent-seeking and unearned income] has been a significant drag on the economy [meaning the economy’s polarization concentrating wealth and income in the hands of the richest One Percent]. The most vulnerable sector is real estate, particularly housing. China has enjoyed an extended property boom over the past two decades, but that is now coming to an end. Evergrande, the largest real estate company, is over-indebted and in danger of default. This could cause a crash. [That’s just what is needed.]
….One of the reasons why middle-class families are unwilling to have more than one child is that they want to make sure that their children will have a bright future. [This is true of every advanced nation today. It is most extreme in the neoliberalized countries, e.g., the Baltics and Ukraine – Soros’s poster countries.]

We have skipped over Xi’s crackdown on the private tutoring industry…as if tutoring is essential to providing for security and an adequate standard of living for the next generation. How about strong public education, including remedial and advanced tracks, and vocational/technical training for those not bound to universities?

Back to Soros and Hudson:

Xi does not understand how markets operate [meaning that he rejects rapacious rent-seeking, exploitative free-for-all, and shapes markets to serve overall prosperity for China’s 99 Percent]. As a consequence, the sell-off was allowed to go too far [by which he means, too far to maintain the dominance of the One Percent; it seeks to reverse economic polarization, not intensify it]. It began to hurt China’s objectives in the world [meaning America’s neoliberal objectives for how it had hoped to make money for itself off China].
Recognising this, Chinese financial authorities have gone out of their way to reassure foreign investors and markets have responded with a powerful rally. But that is a deception. Xi regards all Chinese companies as instruments of a one-party state…
Pension fund managers allocate their assets in ways that are closely aligned with the benchmarks against which their performance is measured. [The tragedy of financializing pensions is that fund managers are rated on making money financially – in ways that hurt the industrial economy by promoting financial engineering instead of industrial engineering.]
Almost all of them claim that they factor environmental, social and corporate governance (ESG) standards into their investment decisions. [At least, that’s what their public relations advisors advertise. Exxon claims to be cleaning up the environment by expanding offshore oil drilling in Guyana, etc. As for “social standards,” the neoliberal mantra is trickle-down economics: by making our stock prices rise, by stock buybacks and higher dividend payouts, we are helping wage-earners earn a pension, even though we are offshoring and de-industrializing the economy, de-unionizing it and “freeing” the economy from consumer and workplace protection laws.]
….The US Congress should pass a bipartisan bill explicitly requiring that asset managers invest only in companies where actual governance structures are both transparent and aligned with stakeholders. [Wow. Such a bill would block Americans from investing in many American companies whose behavior is not at all aligned with stakeholders. What proportion: 50%? 75%? More?] This rule should obviously apply to the performance benchmarks selected by pensions and other retirement portfolios.
If Congress were to enact these measures, it would give the Securities and Exchange Commission the tools it needs to protect American investors, including those who are unaware of owning Chinese stocks and Chinese shell companies. That would also serve the interests of the US and the wider international community of democracies. [So Mr. Soros wants to block the US from investing in China. That is President Xi’s objective also: China doesn’t need U.S. dollars, and is in fact de-dollarizing.]

There are a lot of reasons to criticize Xi and the Chinese regimes, but combating foreign influence and a bit late in the game pushing back against high levels of inequality are not among them.

And Soros presents himself as having superior insight into China, and then acts as if an American strike on Chinese public companies would dent them. Good luck with that.

Indeed.

Great rebuttal by hudson. Soros is fuming at china,its because he cant run his usual financial schemes and assert some measure of control on sectors of their economy. Why anyone listens to this documented nazi collaborator, and destroyer of economies, and the pound sterling is beyond me. China is not in the business of allowing these types to have input or dictate their financial policy. I applaud them.

Posted by: RC213V | Sep 1 2021 21:52 utc | 46

And Group 11

You can watch the videos HERE

Group 11

China is really, really, REALLY big and powerful

You would think that most reasonable people would understand this. But they don’t. I have been reading the Australian “news”. Oh Lordy! These Bozo’s actually think that Australia and Japan will physically invade mainland China and be allowed to march right into the cities and take over.

I don’t think so.

Watch this entire VIDEO BELOW...

China is really, really big.

From the voice of VOA; the official mouthpiece of America…

Americans want to fight China. Don’t you know…

I don’t believe it, but obviously the United States, though it’s enormous media is posturing towards a major conflict. And at this stage of the game, it looks like they want it to happen so badly that it probably will.

The Chinese leader tells cadres at the Central Party School that the ‘risks and challenges we face are conspicuously increasing’. Xi’s comments about the the need to fight to protect national security come amid ongoing tensions with the United States

https://www.scmp.com/news/china/politics/article/3147337/dont-expect-easy-life-and-be-ready-struggle-chinese-president

And remember what I said at the start of this article…

"... the point that I want to make is that China is a perfect organism wholly designed to prevent anyone from attacking it. It is like a vicious animal with spikes, poison, and large sharp teeth. Only a fool would want to attack it..."

A final word.

So the United States wants to go into a HOT war with China. Don’t be so sure on what will happen.

From an anonymous commenter…

Some American and Chinese virologists are developing the new Sinoamerican virus (let's call it "Sinoamerican 200") in a laboratory in Guangzhou. The virus is a combination of a modified porcine influenza H1N1 and the previous Sinoamerican virus (SARS COV 2). The Sinoamerican 200 will be disseminated somewhere in USA in November 2021.

Posted by: Kim Jong Il | Sep 2 2021 5:54 utc | 87

Let’s see what will happen in December 2021; around and just before Christmas time.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my China index.  Here…

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Time in Thy Flight by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. I like it because it reminds me of the treasures of being a kid in the 1960’s / 1970’s. There things that our communities and parents provided for us that are now seemingly absent in America today. But in those days were simply precious treasures. Ray Bradbury captures these ideas and images so well.

Time in Thy Flight

A wind blew the long years away past their hot faces.

The Time Machine stopped.

“Nineteen hundred and twenty-eight,” said Janet. The two boys looked past her.

Mr. Fields stirred. “Remember, you’re here to observe the behavior of these ancient people. Be inquisitive, be intelligent, observe.”

“Yes,” said the girl and the two boys in crisp khaki uniforms. They wore identical haircuts, had identical wristwatches, sandals, and coloring of hair, eyes, teeth, and skin, though they were not related.

“Shh!” said Mr. Fields.

They looked out at a little Illinois town in the spring of the year. A cool mist lay on the early morning streets.

Far down the street a small boy came running in the last light of the marble-cream moon. Somewhere a great clock struck 5 A.M. far away.

Leaving tennis-shoe prints softly in the quiet lawns, the boy stepped near the invisible Time Machine and cried up to a high dark house window.

The house window opened. Another boy crept down the roof to the ground. The two boys ran off with banana-filled mouths into the dark cold morning.

“Follow them,” whispered Mr. Fields. “Study their life patterns.

Quick!”

Janet and William and Robert ran on the cold pavements of spring, visible now, through the slumbering town, through a park. All about, lights flickered, doors clicked, and other children rushed alone or in gasping pairs down a hill to some gleaming blue tracks.

“Here it comes!” The children milled about before dawn. Far down the shining tracks a small light grew seconds later into steaming thunder.

“What is it?” screamed Janet.

“A train, silly, you’ve seen pictures of them!” shouted Robert.

And as the Time Children watched, from the train stepped gigantic gray elephants, steaming the pavements with their mighty waters, lifting question-mark nozzles to the cold morning sky. Cumbrous wagons rolled from the long freight flats, red and gold. Lions roared and paced in boxed darkness.

“Why— this must be a—circus!” Janet trembled.

“You think so? Whatever happened to them?”

“Like Christmas, I guess. Just vanished, long ago.”

Janet looked around. “Oh, it’s awful, isn’t it.”

The boys stood numbed. “It sure is.”

Men shouted in the first faint gleam of dawn. Sleeping cars drew up, dazed faces blinked out at the children. Horses clattered like a great fall of stones on the pavement.

Mr. Fields was suddenly behind the children. “Disgusting, barbaric, keeping animals in cages. If I’d known this was here, I’d never let you come see. This is a terrible ritual.”

“Oh, yes.” But Janet’s eyes were puzzled. “And yet, you know, it’s like a nest of maggots. I want to study it.”

“I don’t know,” said Robert, his eyes darting, his fingers trembling.

“It’s pretty crazy. We might try writing a thesis on it if Mr. Fields says it’s all right …”

Mr. Fields nodded. “I’m glad you’re digging in here, finding motives, studying this horror. All right—we’ll see the circus this afternoon.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Janet.

The Time Machine hummed.

“So that was a circus,” said Janet, solemnly.

The trombone circus died in their ears. The last thing they saw was candy-pink trapeze people whirling while baking powder clowns shrieked and bounded.

“You must admit psychovision’s better,” said Robert slowly.

“All those nasty animal smells, the excitement.” Janet blinked. “That’s bad for children, isn’t it? And those older people seated with the children.

Mothers, fathers, they called them. Oh, that was strange.”

Mr. Fields put some marks in his class grading book.

Janet shook her head numbly. “I want to see it all again. I’ve missed the motives somewhere. I want to make that run across town again in the early morning. The cold air on my face—the sidewalk under my feet—the circus train coming in. Was it the air and the early hour that made the children get up and run to see the train come in? I want to retrace the entire pattern.

Why should they be excited? I feel I’ve missed out on the answer.”

“They all smiled so much,” said William.

“Manic-depressives,” said Robert.

“What are summer vacations? I heard them talk about it.” Janet looked at Mr. Fields.

“They spent their summers racing about like idiots, beating each other up,” replied Mr. Fields seriously.

“I’ll take our State Engineered summers of work for children anytime,” said Robert, looking at nothing, his voice faint.

The Time Machine stopped again.

“The Fourth of July,” announced Mr. Fields. “Nineteen hundred and twenty-eight. An ancient holiday when people blew each other’s fingers off.”

They stood before the same house on the same street but on a soft summer evening. Fire wheels hissed, on front porches laughing children tossed things out that went bang!

“Don’t run!” cried Mr. Fields. “It’s not war, don’t be afraid!”

But Janet’s and Robert’s and William’s faces were pink, now blue, now white with fountains of soft fire.

“We’re all right,” said Janet, standing very still.

“Happily,” announced Mr. Fields, “they prohibited fireworks a century ago, did away with the whole messy explosion.”

Children did fairy dances, weaving their names and destinies on the dark summer air with white sparklers.

“I’d like to do that,” said Janet, softly. “Write my name on the air.

See? I’d like that.”

“What?” Mr. Fields hadn’t been listening.

“Nothing,” said Janet.

“Bang!” whispered William and Robert, standing under the soft summer trees, in shadow, watching, watching the red, white, and green fires on the beautiful summer night lawns. “Bang!”

October.

The Time Machine paused for the last time, an hour later in the month of burning leaves. People bustled into dim houses carrying pumpkins and corn shocks. Skeletons danced, bats flew, candles flamed, apples swung in empty doorways.

“Halloween,” said Mr. Fields. “The acme of horror. This was the age of superstition, you know. Later they banned the Grimm Brothers, ghosts, skeletons, and all that claptrap. You children, thank God, were raised in an antiseptic world of no shadows or ghosts. You had decent holidays like William C. Chatterton’s Birthday, Work Day, and Machine Day.”

They walked by the same house in the empty October night, peering in at the triangle-eyed pumpkins, the masks leering in black attics and damp cellars. Now, inside the house, some party children squatted telling stories, laughing!

“I want to be inside with them,” said Janet at last.

“Sociologically, of course,” said the boys.

“No,” she said.

“What?” asked Mr. Fields.

“No, I just want to be inside, I just want to stay here, I want to see it all and be here and never be anywhere else, I want firecrackers and pumpkins and circuses, I want Christmases and Valentines and Fourths, like we’ve seen.”

“This is getting out of hand …” Mr. Fields started to say.

But suddenly Janet was gone. “Robert, William, come on!” She ran.

The boys leaped after her.

“Hold on!” shouted Mr. Fields. “Robert! William, I’ve got you!” He seized the last boy, but the other escaped. “Janet, Robert—come back here!

You’ll never pass into the seventh grade!

You’ll fail, Janet, Bob— Bob! ”

An October wind blew wildly down the street, vanishing with the children off among moaning trees.

William twisted and kicked.

“No, not you, too, William, you’re coming home with me. We’ll teach those other two a lesson they won’t forget. So they want to stay in the past, do they?” Mr. Fields shouted so everyone could hear. “All right, Janet, Bob, stay in this horror, in this chaos! In a few weeks you’ll come sniveling back here to me. But I’ll be gone! I’m leaving you here to go mad in this world!”

He hurried William to the Time Machine. The boy was sobbing.

“Don’t make me come back here on any more Field Excursions ever again, please, Mr. Fields, please—”

“Shut up!”

Almost instantly the Time Machine whisked away toward the future, toward the underground hive cities, the metal buildings, the metal flowers, the metal lawns.

“Good-bye, Janet, Bob!”

A great cold October wind blew through the town like water. And when it had ceased blowing it had carried all the children, whether invited or uninvited, masked or unmasked, to the doors of houses which closed upon them. There was not a running child anywhere in the night. The wind whined away in the bare treetops.

And inside the big house, in the candlelight, someone was pouring cold apple cider all around, to everyone, no matter who they were.

 

The End

Conclusion

This story takes me back to a time when things were simpler and reminds me of how precious the moments were that we possessed. Don’t let the preciousness of the moments that you have today slip from your hands.

Whether it is the 1950’s or the 1990’s, or even today. Treasure what you have now. For it is all fleeting….

Treasure what you have now.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Ray Bradbury Index here…

Ray Bradbury

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Pillar of Fire by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. Three hundred years after his death, William Lantry awakes from his coffin. One thing is very clear to him – this sterile world without superstition, fear, or imagination must be destroyed. Ray Bradbury was one of the best-known writers of our time. He was a master storyteller, a champion of creative freedom, and a space-age visionary.

Pillar of Fire

I

He came out of the earth, hating. Hate was his father; hate was his mother.

It was good to walk again. It was good to leap up out of the earth, off of your back, and stretch your cramped arms violently and try to take a deep breath!

He tried. He cried out.

He couldn’t breathe. He flung his arms over his face and tried to breathe. It was impossible. He walked on the earth, he came out of the earth.

But he was dead. He couldn’t breathe. He could take air into his mouth and force it half down his throat, with withered moves of long-dormant muscles, wildly, wildly! And with this little air he could shout and cry! He wanted to have tears, but he couldn’t make them come, either. All he knew was that he was standing upright, he was dead, he shouldn’t be walking! He couldn’t breathe and yet he stood.

The smells of the world were all about him. Frustratedly, he tried to smell the smells of autumn. Autumn was burning the land down into ruin. All across the country the ruins of summer lay; vast forests bloomed with flame, tumbled down timber on empty, unleafed timber. The smoke of the burning was rich, blue, and invisible.

He stood in the graveyard, hating. He walked through the world and yet could not taste nor smell of it. He heard, yes. The wind roared on his newly opened ears. But he was dead. Even though he walked he knew he was dead and should expect not too much of himself or this hateful living world.

He touched the tombstone over his own empty grave. He knew his own name again. It was a good job of carving.

WILLIAM LANTRY

That’s what the gravestone said.

His fingers trembled on the cool stone surface.

BORN 1898—DIED 1933

Born again…?

What year? He glared at the sky and the midnight autumnal stars moving in slow illuminations across the windy black. He read the tiltings of centuries in those stars. Orion thus and so, Aurega here! and where Taurus?

There!

His eyes narrowed. His lips spelled out the year:

“2349.”

An odd number. Like a school sum. They used to say a man couldn’t encompass any number over a hundred. After that it was all so damned abstract there was no use counting. This was the year 2349! A numeral, a sum. And here he was, a man who had lain in his hateful dark coffin, hating to be buried, hating the living people above who lived and lived and lived, hating them for all the centuries, until today, now, born out of hatred, he stood by his own freshly excavated grave, the smell of raw earth in the air, perhaps, but he could not smell it!

“I,” he said, addressing a poplar tree that was shaken by the wind, “am an anachronism.” He smiled faintly.

He looked at the graveyard. It was cold and empty. All of the stones had been ripped up and piled like so many flat bricks, one atop another, in the far corner by the wrought iron fence. This had been going on for two endless weeks. In his deep secret coffin he had heard the heartless, wild stirring as the men jabbed the earth with cold spades and tore out the coffins and carried away the withered ancient bodies to be burned. Twisting with fear in his coffin, he had waited for them to come to him.

Today they had arrived at his coffin. But—late. They had dug down to within an inch of the lid. Five o’clock bell, time for quitting. Home to supper.

The workers had gone off. Tomorrow they would finish the job, they said, shrugging into their coats.

Silence had come to the emptied tombyard.

Carefully, quietly, with a soft rattling of sod, the coffin lid had lifted.

William Lantry stood trembling now, in the last cemetery on Earth.

“Remember?” he asked himself, looking at the raw earth. “Remember those stories of that last man on Earth? Those stories of men wandering in ruins, alone? Well, you, William Lantry, are a switch on the old story. Do you know that? You are the last dead man in the whole world!”

There were no more dead people. Nowhere in any land was there a dead person. Impossible! Lantry did not smile at this. No, not impossible at all in this foolish, sterile, unimaginative, antiseptic age of cleansings and scientific methods! People died, oh my God, yes. But— dead people?

Corpses? They didn’t exist!

What happened to dead people?

The graveyard was on a hill. William Lantry walked through the dark burning night until he reached the edge of the graveyard and looked down upon the new town of Salem. It was all illumination, all color. Rocket ships cut fire above it, crossing the sky to all the far ports of Earth.

In his grave the new violence of this future world had driven down and seeped into William Lantry. He had been bathed in it for years. He knew all about it, with a hating dead man’s knowledge of such things.

Most important of all, he knew what these fools did with dead men.

He lifted his eyes. In the center of the town a massive stone finger pointed at the stars. It was three hundred feet high and fifty feet across. There was a wide entrance and a drive in front of it.

In the town, theoretically, thought William Lantry, say you have a dying man. In a moment he will be dead. What happens? No sooner is his pulse cold when a certificate is flourished, made out, his relatives pack him into a car-beetle and drive him swiftly to—

The Incinerator!

That functional finger, that Pillar of Fire pointing at the stars.

Incinerator. A functional, terrible name. But truth is truth in this future world.

Like a stick of kindling your Mr. Dead Man is shot into the furnace.

Flume!

William Lantry looked at the top of the gigantic pistol shoving at the stars. A small pennant of smoke issued from the top.

There’s where your dead people go.

“Take care of yourself, William Lantry,” he murmured. “You’re the last one, the rare item, the last dead man. All the other graveyards of Earth have been blasted up. This is the last graveyard and you’re the last dead man from the centuries. These people don’t believe in having dead people about, much less walking dead people. Everything that can’t be used goes up like a matchstick. Superstitions right along with it!”

He looked at the town. All right, he thought, quietly, I hate you. You hate me, or you would if you knew I existed. You don’t believe in such things as vampires or ghosts. Labels without referents, you cry! You snort. All right, snort! Frankly, I don’t believe in you, either! I don’t like you! You and your Incinerators.

He trembled. How very close it had been. Day after day they had hauled out the other dead ones, burned them like so much kindling. An edict had been broadcast around the world. He had heard the digging men talk as they worked!

“I guess it’s a good idea, this cleaning up the graveyards,” said one of the men.

“Guess so,” said another. “Grisly custom. Can you imagine? Being buried, I mean! Unhealthy! All them germs!”

“Sort of a shame. Romantic, kind of. I mean, leaving just this one graveyard untouched all these centuries. The other graveyards were cleaned out, what year was it, Jim?”

“About 2260, I think. Yeah, that was it, 2260, almost a hundred years ago. But some Salem Committee, they got on their high horse and they said,

‘Look here, let’s have just one graveyard left, to remind us of the customs of the barbarians.’ And the government scratched its head, thunk it over, and said, ‘Okay. Salem it is. But all other graveyards go, you understand, all!’”

“And away they went,” said Jim.

“Sure, they sucked out ’em with fire and steam shovels and rocket-cleaners. If they knew a man was buried in a cow pasture, they fixed him!

Evacuated them, they did. Sort of cruel, I say.”

“I hate to sound old-fashioned,but still there were a lot of tourists came here every year, just to see what a real graveyard was like.”

“Right. We had nearly a million people in the last three years visiting.

A good revenue. But—a government order is an order. The government says no more morbidity, so flush her out we do! Here we go. Hand me that spade, Bill.”

William Lantry stood in the autumn wind, on the hill. It was good to walk again, to feel the wind and to hear the leaves scuttling like mice on the road ahead of him. It was good to see the bitter cold stars almost blown away by the wind.

It was even good to know fear again.

For fear rose in him now, and he could not put it away. The very fact that he was walking made him an enemy. And there was not another friend, another dead man, in all of the world, to whom one could turn for help or consolation. It was the whole melodramatic living world against one. William Lantry. It was the whole vampire-disbelieving, body-burning, graveyard-annihilating world against a man in a dark suit on a dark autumn hill. He put out his pale cold hands into the city illumination. You have pulled the tombstones, like teeth, from the yard, he thought. Now I will find some way to push your Incinerators down into rubble. I will make dead people again, and I will make friends in so doing. I cannot be alone and lonely. I must start manufacturing friends very soon. Tonight.

“War is declared,” he said, and laughed. It was pretty silly, one man declaring war on an entire world.

The world did not answer back. A rocket crossed the sky on a rush of flame, like an Incinerator taking wing.

Footsteps. Lantry hastened to the edge of the cemetery. The diggers, coming back to finish up their work? No. Just someone, a man, walking by.

As the man came abreast the cemetery gate, Lantry stepped swiftly out. “Good evening,” said the man, smiling.

Lantry struck the man in the face. The man fell. Lantry bent quietly down and hit the man a killing blow across the neck with the side of his hand.

Dragging the body back into shadow, he stripped it and changed clothes with it. It wouldn’t do for a fellow to go wandering about this future world with ancient clothing on. He found a small pocket knife in the man’s coat; not much of a knife, but enough if you knew how to handle it properly.

He knew how.

He rolled the body down into one of the already opened and exhumed graves. In a minute he had shoveled dirt down upon it, just enough to hide it.

There was little chance of it being found. They wouldn’t dig the same grave twice.

He adjusted himself in his new loose-fitting metallic suit. Fine, fine.

Hating. William Lantry walked down into town, to do battle with the Earth.

II

The Incinerator was open. It never closed. There was a wide entrance, all lighted up with hidden illumination, there was a helicopter landing table and a beetle drive. The town itself was dying down after another day of the dynamo. The lights were going dim, and the only quiet, lighted spot in the town now was the Incinerator. God, what a practical name, what an unromantic name.

William Lantry entered the wide, well-lighted door. It was an entrance, really; there were no doors to open or shut. People could go in and out, summer or winter, the inside was always warm. Warm from the fire that rushed whispering up the high round flue to where the whirlers, the propellors, the air jets pushed the leafy gray ashes on away for a ten-mile ride down the sky.

There was the warmth of the bakery here. The halls were floored with rubber parquet. You couldn’t make a noise if you wanted to. Music played in hidden throats somewhere. Not music of death at all, but music of life and the way the sun lived inside the Incinerator; or the sun’s brother, anyway. You could hear the flame floating inside the heavy brick wall.

William Lantry descended a ramp. Behind him he heard a whisper and turned in time to see a beetle stop before the entranceway. A bell rang. The music, as if at a signal, rose to ecstatic heights. There was joy in it.

From the beetle, which opened from the rear, some attendants stepped carrying a golden box. It was six feet long and there were sun symbols on it.

From another beetle the relatives of the man in the box stepped and followed as the attendants took the golden box down a ramp to a kind of altar. On the side of the altar were the words, “WE THAT WERE BORN OF THE SUN RETURN TO THE SUN.” The golden box was deposited upon the altar, the music leaped upward, the Guardian of this place spoke only a few words, then the attendants picked up the golden box, walked to a transparent wall, a safety lock, also transparent, and opened it. The box was shoved into the glass slot.

A moment later an inner lock opened, the box was injected into the interior of the flue, and vanished instantly in quick flame.

The attendants walked away. The relatives without a word turned and walked out. The music played.

William Lantry approached the glass fire lock. He peered through the wall at the vast, glowing never-ceasing heart of the Incinerator. It burned steadily, without a flicker, singing to itself peacefully. It was so solid it was like a golden river flowing up out of the earth toward the sky. Anything you put into the river was borne upward, vanished.

Lantry felt again his unreasoning hatred of this thing, this monster, cleansing fire.

A man stood at his elbow. “May I help you, sir?”

“What?” Lantry turned abruptly. “What did you say?”

“May I be of service?”

“I—that is—” Lantry looked quickly at the ramp and the door. His hands trembled at his sides. “I’ve never been in here before.”

“Never?” The Attendant was surprised.

That had been the wrong thing to say, Lantry realized. But it was said, nevertheless. “I mean,” he said. “Not really. I mean, when you’re a child, somehow, you don’t pay attention. I suddenly realized tonight that I didn’t really know the Incinerator.”

The Attendant smiled. “We never know anything, do we, really? I’ll be glad to show you around.”

“Oh, no. Never mind. It—it’s a wonderful place.”

“Yes, it is.” The Attendant took pride in it. “One of the finest in the world, I think.”

“I—” Lantry felt he must explain further. “I haven’t had many relatives die on me since I was a child. In fact, none. So, you see I haven’t been here for many years.”

“I see.” The Attendant’s face seemed to darken somewhat.

What’ve I said now, thought Lantry. What in God’s name is wrong?

What’ve I done? If I’m not careful I’ll get myself shoved right into that monstrous firetrap. What’s wrong with this fellow’s face? He seems to be giving me more than the usual going-over.

“You wouldn’t be one of the men who’ve just returned from Mars, would you?” asked the Attendant.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“No matter.” The Attendant began to walk off. “If you want to know anything, just ask me.”

“Just one thing,” said Lantry.

“What’s that?”

“This.”

Lantry dealt him a stunning blow across the neck.

He had watched the fire-trap operator with expert eyes. Now, with the sagging body in his arms, he touched the button that opened the warm outer lock, placed the body in, heard the music rise, and saw the inner lock open.

The body shot out into the river of fire. The music softened.

“Well done, Lantry, well done.”

Barely an instant later another Attendant entered the room. Lantry was caught with an expression of pleased excitement on his face. The Attendant looked around as if expecting to find someone, then he walked toward Lantry.

“May I help you?”

“Just looking,” said Lantry.

“Rather late at night,” said the Attendant.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

That was the wrong answer, too. Everybody slept in this world.

Nobody had insomnia. If you did you simply turned on a hypnoray, and, sixty seconds later, you were snoring. Oh, he was just full of wrong answers. First he had made the fatal error of saying he had never been in the Incinerator before, when he knew that all children were brought here on tours, every year, from the time they were four, to instill the idea of the clean fire death and the Incinerator in their minds. Death was a bright fire, death was warmth and the sun. It was not a dark, shadowed thing. That was important in their education.

And he, pale, thoughtless fool, had immediately gabbled out his ignorance.

And another thing, this paleness of his. He looked at his hands and realized with growing terror that a pale man also was nonexistent in this world. They would suspect his paleness. That was why the first attendant had asked, “Are you one of those men newly returned from Mars?” Here, now, this new Attendant was clean and bright as a copper penny, his cheeks red with health and energy. Lantry hid his pale hands in his pockets. But he was finally aware of the searching the Attendant did on his face.

“I mean to say,” said Lantry, “I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to think.”

“Was there a service held here a moment ago?” asked the Attendant, looking about.

“I don’t know, I just came in.”

“I thought I heard the fire lock open and shut.”

“I don’t know,” said Lantry.

The man pressed a wall button. “Anderson?”

A voice replied. “Yes.”

“Locate Saul for me, will you?”

“I’ll ring the corridors.” A pause. “Can’t find him.”

“Thanks.” The Attendant was puzzled. He was beginning to make little sniffing motions with his nose. “Do you— smell anything?”

Lantry sniffed. “No. Why?”

“I smell something.”

Lantry took hold of the knife in his pocket. He waited.

“I remember once when I was a kid,” said the man. “And we found a cow lying dead in the field. It had been there two days in the hot sun. That’s what this smell is. I wonder what it’s from?”

“Oh, I know what it is,” said Lantry quietly. He held out his hand.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Me, of course.”

“You?”

“Dead several hundred years.”

“You’re an odd joker.” The Attendant was puzzled.

“Very.” Lantry took out the knife. “Do you know what this is?”

“A knife.”

“Do you ever use knives on people any more?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean—killing them, with knives or guns or poison?”

“You are an odd joker!” The man giggled awkwardly.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Lantry.

“Nobody kills anybody,” said the man.

“Not any more they don’t. But they used to, in the old days.”

“I know they did.”

“This will be the first murder in three hundred years. I just killed your friend. I just shoved him into the fire lock.”

That remark had the desired effect. It numbed the man so completely, it shocked him so thoroughly with its illogical aspects that Lantry had time to walk forward. He put the knife against the man’s chest. “I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s silly,” said the man, numbly. “People don’t do that.”

“Like this,” said Lantry. “You see?”

The knife slid into the chest. The man stared at it for a moment.

Lantry caught the falling body.

III

The Salem flue exploded at six that morning. The great fire chimney shattered into ten thousand parts and flung itself into the earth and into the sky and into the houses of the sleeping people. There was fire and sound, more fire than autumn made burning in the hills.

William Lantry was five miles away at the time of the explosion. He saw the town ignited by the great spreading cremation of it. And he shook his head and laughed a little bit and clapped his hands smartly together.

Relatively simple. You walked around killing people who didn’t believe in murder, had only heard of it indirectly as some dim gone custom of the old barbarian races. You walked into the control room of the Incinerator and said, “How do you work this Incinerator?” and the control man told you, because everybody told the truth in this world of the future, nobody lied, there was no reason to lie, there was no danger to lie against. There was only one criminal in the world, and nobody knew HE existed yet.

Oh, it was an incredibly beautiful setup. The Control Man had told him just how the Incinerator worked, what pressure gauges controlled the flood of fire gases going up the flue, what levers were adjusted or readjusted.

He and Lantry had had quite a talk. It was an easy, free world. People trusted people. A moment later Lantry had shoved a knife in the Control Man also and set the pressure gauges for an overload to occur half an hour later, and walked out of the Incinerator halls, whistling.

Now even the sky was palled with the vast black cloud of the explosion.

“This is only the first,” said Lantry, looking at the sky. “I’ll tear all the others down before they even suspect there’s an unethical man loose in their society. They can’t account for a variable like me. I’m beyond their understanding. I’m incomprehensible, impossible, therefore I do not exist. My God, I can kill hundreds of thousands of them before they even realize murder is out in the world again. I can make it look like an accident each time. Why, the idea is so huge, it’s unbelievable!”

The fire burned the town. He sat under a tree for a long time, until morning. Then, he found a cave in the hills, and went in, to sleep.

He awoke at sunset with a sudden dream of fire. He saw himself pushed into the flue, cut into sections by flame, burned away to nothing. He sat up on the cave floor, laughing at himself. He had an idea.

He walked down into the town and stepped into an audio booth. He dialed OPERATOR. “Give me the Police Department,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” said the operator.

He tried again. “The Law Force,” he said.

“I will connect you with the Peace Control,” she said, at last.

A little fear began ticking inside him like a tiny watch. Suppose the operator recognized the term Police Department as an anachronism, took his audio number, and sent someone out to investigate? No, she wouldn’t do that.

Why should she suspect? Paranoids were nonexistent in this civilization.

“Yes, the Peace Control,” he said.

A buzz. A man’s voice answered. “Peace Control. Stephens speaking.”

“Give me the Homicide Detail,” said Lantry, smiling.

“The what? ”

“Who investigates murders?”

“I beg your pardon, what are you talking about?”

“Wrong number.” Lantry hung up, chuckling. Ye gods, there was no such a thing as a Homicide Detail. There were no murders, therefore they needed no detectives. Perfect, perfect!

The audio rang back. Lantry hesitated, then answered.

“Say,” said the voice on the phone. “Who are you?”

“The man just left who called,” said Lantry, and hung up again.

He ran. They would recognize his voice and perhaps send someone out to check. People didn’t lie. He had just lied. They knew his voice. He had lied. Anybody who lied needed a psychiatrist. They would come to pick him up to see why he was lying. For no other reason. They suspected him of nothing else. Therefore—he must run.

Oh, how very carefully he must act from now on. He knew nothing of this world, this odd straight truthful ethical world. Simply by looking pale you were suspect. Simply by not sleeping nights you were suspect. Simply by not bathing, by smelling like a—dead cow?—you were suspect. Anything.

He must go to a library. But that was dangerous, too. What were libraries like today? Did they have books or did they have film spools which projected books on a screen? Or did people have libraries at home, thus eliminating the necessity of keeping large main libraries?

He decided to chance it. His use of archaic terms might well make him suspect again, but now it was very important he learn all that could be learned of this foul world into which he had come again. He stopped a man on the street. “Which way to the library?”

The man was not surprised. “Two blocks east, one block north.”

“Thank you.”

Simple as that.

He walked into the library a few minutes later.

“May I help you?”

He looked at the librarian. May I help you, may I help you. What a world of helpful people! “I’d like to ‘have’ Edgar Allan Poe.” His verb was carefully chosen. He didn’t say ‘read.’ He was too afraid that books were passé, that printing itself was a lost art. Maybe all ‘books’ today were in the form of fully delineated three-dimensional motion pictures. How in blazes could you make a motion picture out of Socrates, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Freud?

“What was that name again?”

“Edgar Allan Poe.”

“There is no such author listed in our files.”

“Will you please check?”

She checked. “Oh, yes. There’s a red mark on the file card. He was one of the authors in the Great Burning of 2265.

“How ignorant of me.”

“That’s all right,” she said. “Have you heard much of him?”

“He had some interesting barbarian ideas on death,” said Lantry.

“Horrible ones,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Ghastly.”

“Yes. Ghastly. Abominable, in fact. Good thing he was burned.

Unclean. By the way, do you have any of Lovecraft?”

“Is that a sex book?”

Lantry exploded with laughter. “No, no. It’s a man.”

She riffled the file. “He was burned, too. Along with Poe.”

“I suppose that applies to Machen and a man named Derleth and one named Ambrose Bierce, also?”

“Yes.” She shut the file cabinet. “All burned. And good riddance.” She gave him an odd warm look of interest. “I bet you’ve just come back from Mars.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There was another explorer in here yesterday. He’d just made the Mars hop and return. He was interested in supernatural literature, also. It seems there are actually ‘tombs’ on Mars.”

“What are ‘tombs’?” Lantry was learning to keep his mouth closed.

“You know, those things they once buried people in.”

“Barbarian custom. Ghastly!”

“Isn’t it? Well, seeing the Martian tombs made this young explorer curious. He came and asked if we had any of those authors you mentioned. Of course we haven’t even a smitch of their stuff.” She looked at his pale face.

“You are one of the Martian rocket men, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “Got back on the ship the other day.”

“The other young man’s name was Burke.”

“Of course. Burke! Good friend of mine!”

“Sorry I can’t help you. You’d best get yourself some vitamin shots and some sun lamps. You look terrible, Mr.—?”

“Lantry. I’ll be good. Thanks ever so much. See you next Hallows’

Eve!”

“Aren’t you the clever one.” She laughed. “If there were a Hallows’

Eve, I’d make it a date.”

“But they burned that, too,” he said.

“Oh, they burned everything,” she said. “Good night.”

“Good night.” And he went on out.

Oh, how carefully he was balanced in this world! Like some kind of dark gyroscope, whirling with never a murmur, a very silent man. As he walked along the eight o’clock evening street he noticed with particular interest that there was not an unusual amount of lights about. There were the usual street lights at each corner, but the blocks themselves were only faintly illuminated. Could it be that these remarkable people were not afraid of the dark? Incredible nonsense! Every one was afraid of the dark. Even he himself had been afraid, as a child. It was as natural as eating.

A little boy ran by on pelting feet, followed by six others. They yelled and shouted and rolled on the dark cool October lawn, in the leaves. Lantry looked on for several minutes before addressing himself to one of the small boys who was for a moment taking a respite, gathering his breath into his small lungs, as a boy might blow to refill a punctured paper bag.

“Here, now,” said Lantry. “You’ll wear yourself out.”

“Sure,” said the boy.

“Could you tell me,” said the man, “why there are no street lights in the middle of the blocks?”

“Why?” asked the boy.

“I’m a teacher, I thought I’d test your knowledge,” said Lantry.

“Well,” said the boy, “you don’t need lights in the middle of the block, that’s why.”

“But it gets rather dark,” said Lantry.

“So?” said the boy.

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Lantry.

“Of what?” asked the boy.

“The dark,” said Lantry.

“Ho ho,” said the boy. “Why should I be?”

“Well,” said Lantry. “It’s black, it’s dark. And after all, street lights were invented to take away the dark and take away fear.”

“That’s silly. Street lights were made so you could see where you were walking. Outside of that there’s nothing.”

“You miss the whole point—” said Lantry. “Do you mean to say you would sit in the middle of an empty lot all night and not be afraid?”

“Of what?”

“Of what, of what, of what, you little ninny! Of the dark!”

“Ho ho.”

“Would you go out in the hills and stay all night in the dark?”

“Sure.”

“Would you stay in a deserted house alone?”

“Sure.”

“And not be afraid?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a liar!”

“Don’t you call me nasty names!” shouted the boy. Liar was the improper noun, indeed. It seemed to be the worst thing you could call a person.

Lantry was completely furious with the little monster. “Look,” he insisted. “Look into my eyes …”

The boy looked.

Lantry bared his teeth slightly. He put out his hands, making a clawlike gesture. He leered and gesticulated and wrinkled his face into a terrible mask of horror.

“Ho ho,” said the boy. “You’re funny.”

“What did you say?”

“You’re funny. Do it again. Hey, gang, c’mere! This man does funny things!”

“Never mind.”

“Do it again, sir.”

“Never mind, never mind. Good night!” Lantry ran off.

“Good night, sir. And mind the dark, sir!” called the little boy.

Of all the stupidity, of all the rank, gross, crawling, jelly-mouthed stupidity! He had never seen the like of it in his life! Bringing the children up without so much as an ounce of imagination! Where was the fun in being children if you didn’t imagine things?

He stopped running. He slowed and for the first time began to appraise himself. He ran his hand over his face and bit his fingers and found that he himself was standing midway in the block and he felt uncomfortable. He moved up to the street corner where there was a glowing lantern. “That’s better,” he said, holding his hands out like a man to an open warm fire.

He listened. There was not a sound except the night breathing of the crickets. Finally there was a fire-hush as a rocket swept the sky. It was the sound a torch might make brandished gently on the dark air.

He listened to himself and for the first time he realized what there was so peculiar to himself. There was not a sound in him. The little nostril and lung noises were absent. His lungs did not take nor give oxygen or carbon dioxide; they did not move. The hairs in his nostrils did not quiver with warm combing air. That faint purling whisper of breathing did not sound in his nose.

Strange. Funny. A noise you never heard when you were alive, the breath that fed your body, and yet, once dead, oh how you missed it!

The only other time you ever heard it was on deep dreamless awake nights when you wakened and listened and heard first your nose taking and gently poking out the air, and then the dull deep dim red thunder of the blood in your temples, in your eardrums, in your throat, in your aching wrists, in your warm loins, in your chest. All of those little rhythms, gone. The wrist beat gone, the throat pulse gone, the chest vibration gone. The sound of the blood coming up down around and through, up down around and through.

Now it was like listening to a statue.

And yet he lived. Or, rather, moved about. And how was this done, over and above scientific explanations, theories, doubts?

By one thing, and one thing alone.

Hatred.

Hatred was a blood in him, it went up down around and through, up down around and through. It was a heart in him, not beating, true, but warm.

He was—what? Resentment. Envy. They said he could not lie any longer in his coffin in the cemetery. He had wanted to. He had never had any particular desire to get up and walk around. It had been enough, all these centuries, to lie in the deep box and feel but not feel the ticking of the million insect watches in the earth around, the moves of worms like so many deep thoughts in the soil.

But then they had come and said, “Out you go and into the furnace!”

And that is the worst thing you can say to any man. You cannot tell him what to do. If you say you are dead, he will want not to be dead. If you say there are no such things as vampires, by God, that man will try to be one just for spite. If you say a dead man cannot walk, he will test his limbs. If you say murder is no longer occurring, he will make it occur. He was, in toto, all the impossible things. They had given birth to him with their practices and ignorances. Oh, how wrong they were. They needed to be shown. He would show them! Sun is good, so is night, there is nothing wrong with dark, they said.

Dark is horror, he shouted, silently, facing the little houses. It is meant for contrast. You must fear, you hear! That has always been the way of this world. You destroyers of Edgar Allan Poe and fine big-worded Lovecraft, you burner of Halloween masks and destroyer of pumpkin jack-o-lanterns! I will make night what it once was, the thing against which man built all his lanterned cities and his many children!

As if in answer to this, a rocket, flying low, trailing a long rakish feather of flame. It made Lantry flinch and draw back.

IV

It was but ten miles to the little town of Science Port. He made it by dawn, walking. But even this was not good. At four in the morning a silver beetle pulled up on the road beside him.

“Hello,” called the man inside.

“Hello,” said Lantry, wearily.

“Why are you walking?” asked the man.

“I’m going to Science Port.”

“Why don’t you ride?”

“I like to walk.”

“Nobody likes to walk. Are you sick? May I give you a ride?”

“Thanks, but I like to walk.”

The man hesitated, then closed the beetle door. “Good night.”

When the beetle was gone over the hill, Lantry retreated into a nearby forest. A world full of bungling, helping people. By God, you couldn’t even walk without being accused of sickness. That meant only one thing. He must not walk any longer, he had to ride. He should have accepted that fellow’s offer.

The rest of the night he walked far enough off the highway so that if a beetle rushed by he had time to vanish in the underbrush. At dawn he crept into an empty dry water drain and closed his eyes.

The dream was as perfect as a rimed snowflake.

He saw the graveyard where he had lain deep and ripe over the centuries. He heard the early morning footsteps of the laborers returning to finish their work.

“Would you mind passing me the shovel, Jim?”

“Here you go.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!”

“What’s up?”

“Look here. We didn’t finish last night, did we?”

“No.”

There was one more coffin, wasn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, here it is, and open!”

“You’ve got the wrong hole.”

“What’s the name say on the gravestone?”

“Lantry. William Lantry.”

“That’s him, that’s the one! Gone!”

“What could have happened to it?”

“How do I know. The body was here last night.”

“We can’t be sure, we didn’t look.”

“God man, people don’t bury empty coffins. He was in his box. Now he isn’t.”

“Maybe this box was empty.”

“Nonsense. Smell that smell? He was here all right.”

A pause.

“Nobody would have taken the body, would they?”

“What for?”

“A curiosity, perhaps.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. People just don’t steal. Nobody steals.”

“Well, then, there’s only one solution.”

“And?”

“He got up and walked away.”

A pause. In the dark dream, Lantry expected to hear laughter. There was none. Instead, the voice of the grave-digger, after a thoughtful pause, said, “Yes. That’s it, indeed. He got up and walked away.”

“That’s interesting to think about,” said the other.

“Isn’t it, though!”

Silence.

Lantry awoke. It had all been a dream, but, how realistic. How strangely the two men had carried on. But not unnaturally, oh, no. That was exactly how you expected men of the future to talk. Men of the future. Lantry grinned wryly. That was an anachronism for you. This was the future. This was happening now. It wasn’t three hundred years from now, it was now, not then, or any other time. This wasn’t the twentieth century. Oh, how calmly those two men in the dream had said, “He got up and walked away.” “—

interesting to think about.” “Isn’t it, though?” With never a quaver in their voices. With not so much as a glance over their shoulders or a tremble of spade in hand. But, of course, with their perfectly honest, logical minds, there was but one explanation; certainly nobody had stolen the corpse. “Nobody steals.” The corpse had simply got up and walked off. The corpse was the only one who could have possibly moved the corpse. By the few casual slow words of the gravediggers Lantry knew what they were thinking. Here was a man that had lain in suspended animation, not really dead, for hundreds of years. The jarring about, the activity, had brought him back.

Everyone had heard of those little green toads that are sealed for centuries inside mud rocks or in ice patties, alive, alive oh! And how when scientists chipped them out and warmed them like marbles in their hands the little toads leapt about and frisked and blinked. Then it was only logical that the gravediggers think of William Lantry in like fashion.

But what if the various parts were fitted together in the next day or so?

If the vanished body and the shattered, exploded Incinerator were connected?

What if this fellow named Burke, who had returned pale from Mars, went to the library again and said to the young woman he wanted some books and she said, “Oh, your friend Lantry was in the other day.” And he’d say, ‘Lantry who? Don’t know anyone by that name.’ And she’d say, “Oh, he lied.” And people in this time didn’t lie. So it would all form and coalesce, item by item, bit by bit. A pale man who was pale and shouldn’t be pale had lied and people don’t lie, and a walking man on a lonely country road had walked and people don’t walk any more, and a body was missing from a cemetery, and the Incinerator had blown up and and and—

They would come after him. They would find him. He would be easy to find. He walked. He lied. He was pale. They would find him and take him and stick him through the open fire lock of the nearest Burner and that would be your Mr. William Lantry, like a Fourth of July set-piece!

There was only one thing to be done efficiently and completely. He arose in violent moves. His lips were wide and his dark eyes were flared and there was a trembling and burning all through him. He must kill and kill and kill and kill and kill. He must make his enemies into friends, into people like himself who walked but shouldn’t walk, who were pale in a land of pinks. He must kill and then kill and then kill again. He must make bodies and dead people and corpses. He must destroy Incinerator after Flue after Burner after Incinerator. Explosion on explosion. Death on death. Then, when the Incinerators were all in thrown ruin, and the hastily established morgues were jammed with the bodies of people shattered by the explosion, then he would begin his making of friends, his enrollment of the dead in his own cause.

Before they traced and found and killed him, they must be killed themselves. So far he was safe. He could kill and they would not kill back.

People simply do not go around killing. That was his safety margin. He climbed out of the abandoned drain, stood in the road.

He took the knife from his pocket and hailed the next beetle.

It was like the Fourth of July! The biggest firecracker of them all. The Science Port Incinerator split down the middle and flew apart. It made a thousand small explosions that ended with a greater one. It fell upon the town and crushed houses and burned trees. It woke people from sleep and then put them to sleep again, forever, an instant later.

William Lantry, sitting in a beetle that was not his own, tuned idly to a station on the audio dial. The collapse of the Incinerator had killed some four hundred people. Many had been caught in flattened houses, others struck by flying metal. A temporary morgue was being set up at—

An address was given.

Lantry noted it with a pad and pencil.

He could go on this way, he thought, from town to town, from country to country, destroying the Burners, the Pillars of Fire, until the whole clean magnificent framework of flame and cauterization was tumbled. He made a fair estimate—each explosion averaged five hundred dead. You could work that up to a hundred thousand in no time.

He pressed the floor stud on the beetle. Smiling, he drove off through the dark streets of the city.

The city coroner had requisitioned an old warehouse. From midnight until four in the morning the gray beetles hissed down the rain-shiny streets, turned in, and the bodies were laid out on the cold concrete floors, with white sheets over them. It was a continuous flow until about four-thirty, then it stopped. There were about two hundred bodies there, white and cold.

The bodies were left alone; nobody stayed behind to tend them. There was no use tending the dead; it was a useless procedure; the dead could take care of themselves.

About five o’clock, with a touch of dawn in the east, the first trickle of relatives arrived to identify their sons or their fathers or their mothers or their uncles. The people moved quickly into the warehouse, made the identification, moved quickly out again. By six o’clock, with the sky still lighter in the east, this trickle had passed on, also.

William Lantry walked across the wide wet street and entered the warehouse.

He held a piece of blue chalk in one hand.

He walked by the coroner who stood in the entranceway talking to two others. “… drive the bodies to the Incinerator in Mellin Town, tomorrow …”

The voices faded.

Lantry moved, his feet echoing faintly on the cool concrete. A wave of sourceless relief came to him as he walked among the shrouded figures. He was among his own. And—better than that! He had created these! He had made them dead! He had procured for himself a vast number of recumbent friends!

Was the coroner watching? Lantry turned his head. No. The warehouse was calm and quiet and shadowed in the dark morning. The coroner was walking away now; across the street, with his two attendants; a beetle had drawn up on the other side of the street, and the coroner was going over to talk with whoever was in the beetle.

William Lantry stood and made a blue chalk pentagram on the floor by each of the bodies. He moved swiftly, swiftly, without a sound, without blinking. In a few minutes, glancing up now and then to see if the coroner was still busy, he had chalked the floor by a hundred bodies. He straightened up and put the chalk in his pocket.

Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party, now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party, now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party, now is the time …

Lying in the earth, over the centuries, the processes and thoughts of passing peoples and passing times had seeped down to him, slowly, as into a deep-buried sponge. From some death-memory in him now, ironically, repeatedly, a black typewriter clacked out black even lines of pertinent words: Now is the time for all good men, for all good men, to come to the aid of—

William Lantry.

Other words—

Arise my love, and come away—

The quick brown fox jumped over … Paraphrase it. The quick risen body jumped over the tumbled Incinerator…

Lazarus, come forth from the tomb …

He knew the right words. He need only speak them as they had been spoken over the centuries. He need only gesture with his hands and speak the words, the dark words that would cause these bodies to quiver, rise and walk!

And when they had risen he would take them through the town, they would kill others, and the others would rise and walk. By the end of the day there would be thousands of good friends, walking with him. And what of the naïve, living people of this year, this day, this hour? They would be completely unprepared for it. They would go down to defeat because they would not be expecting war of any sort. They wouldn’t believe it possible, it would all be over before they could convince themselves that such an illogical thing could happen.

He lifted his hands. His lips moved. He said the words. He began in a chanting whisper and then raised his voice, louder. He said the words again and again. His eyes were closed tightly. His body swayed. He spoke faster and faster. He began to move forward among the bodies. The dark words flowed from his mouth. He was enchanted with his own formulae. He stooped and made further blue symbols on the concrete, in the fashion of long-dead sorcerers, smiling, confident. Any moment now the first tremor of the still bodies, any moment now the rising, the leaping up of the cold ones!

His hands lifted in the air. His head nodded. He spoke, he spoke, he spoke. He gestured. He talked loudly over the bodies, his eyes flaring, his body tensed. “Now!” he cried, violently. “Rise, all of you!”

Nothing happened.

“Rise!” he screamed, with a terrible torment in his voice.

The sheets lay in white blue-shadow folds over the silent bodies.

“Hear me, and act!” he shouted.

Far away, on the street, a beetle hissed along.

Again, again, again he shouted, pleaded. He got down by each body and asked of it his particular violent favor. No reply. He strode wildly between the even white rows, flinging his arms up, stooping again and again to make blue symbols!

Lantry was very pale. He licked his lips. “Come on, get up,” he said.

“They have, they always have, for a thousand years. When you make a mark

—so! and speak a word—so! they always rise! Why not now, why not you!

Come on, come on, before they come back!”

The warehouse went up into shadow. There were steel beams across and down. In it, under the roof, there was not a sound, except the raving of a lonely man.

Lantry stopped.

Through the wide doors of the warehouse he caught a glimpse of the last cold stars of morning.

This was the year 2349.

His eyes grew cold and his hands fell to his sides. He did not move.

Once upon a time people shuddered when they heard the wind about the house, once people raised crucifixes and wolfbane, and believed in walking dead and bats and loping white wolves. And as long as they believed, then so long did the dead, the bats, the loping wolves exist. The mind gave birth and reality to them.

But …

He looked at the white sheeted bodies.

These people did not believe.

They had never believed. They would never believe. They had never imagined that the dead might walk. The dead went up flues in flame. They had never heard superstition, never trembled or shuddered or doubted in the dark. Walking dead people could not exist, they were illogical. This was the year 2349, man, after all!

Therefore, these people could not rise, could not walk again. They were dead and flat and cold. Nothing, chalk, imprecation, superstition, could wind them up and set them walking. They were dead and knew they were dead!

He was alone.

There were live people in the world who moved and drove beetles and drank quiet drinks in little dimly illumined bars by country roads, and kissed women and talked much good talk all day and every day.

But he was not alive.

Friction gave him what little warmth he possessed.

There were two hundred dead people here in this warehouse now, cold upon the floor. The first dead people in a hundred years who were allowed to be corpses for an extra hour or more. The first not to be immediately trundled to the Incinerator and lit like so much phosphorus.

He should be happy with them, among them.

He was not.

They were completely dead. They did not know nor believe in walking once the heart had paused and stilled itself. They were deader than dead ever was.

He was indeed alone, more alone than any man had ever been. He felt the chill of his aloneness moving up into his chest, strangling him quietly.

William Lantry turned suddenly and gasped.

While he had stood there, someone had entered the warehouse. A tall man with white hair, wearing a light weight tan overcoat and no hat. How long the man had been nearby there was no telling.

There was no reason to stay here. Lantry turned and started to walk slowly out. He looked hastily at the man as he passed and the man with the white hair looked back at him, curiously. Had he heard? The imprecations, the pleadings, the shoutings? Did he suspect? Lantry slowed his walk. Had this man seen him make the blue chalk marks? But then, would he interpret them as symbols of an ancient superstition? Probably not.

Reaching the door, Lantry paused. For a moment he did not want to do anything but lie down and be coldly, really dead again and be carried silently down the street to some distant burning flue and there dispatched in ash and whispering fire. If he was indeed alone and there was no chance to collect an army to his cause, what, then, existed as a reason for going on? Killing? Yes, he’d kill a few thousand more. But that wasn’t enough. You can only do so much of that before they drag you down.

He looked at the cold sky.

A rocket went across the black heaven, trailing fire.

Mars burned red among a million stars.

Mars. The library. The librarian. Talk. Returning rocket men. Tombs.

Lantry almost gave a shout. He restrained his hand, which wanted so much to reach up into the sky and touch Mars. Lovely red star on the sky.

Good star that gave him sudden new hope. If he had a living heart now it would be thrashing wildly, and sweat would be breaking out of him and his pulses would be stammering, and tears would be in his eyes!

He would go down to wherever the rockets sprang up into space. He would go to Mars, one way or another. He would go to the Martian tombs.

There, there were bodies, he would bet his last hatred on it, that would rise and walk and work with him! Theirs was an ancientculture, much different from that of Earth, patterned on the Egyptian, if what the librarian had said was true. And the Egyptian—what a crucible of dark superstition and midnight terror that culture had been. Mars it was, then. Beautiful Mars!

But he must not attract attention to himself. He must move carefully.

He wanted to run, yes, to get away, but that would be the worst possible move he could make. The man with the white hair was glancing at Lantry from time to time, in the entranceway. There were too many people about. If anything happened he would be outnumbered. So far he had taken on only one man at a time.

Lantry forced himself to stop and stand on the steps before the warehouse. The man with the white hair came on onto the steps also and stood, looking at the sky. He looked as if he was going to speak at any moment. He fumbled in his pockets and took out a packet of cigarettes.

V

They stood outside the morgue together, the tall, pink, white-haired man, and Lantry, hands in their pockets. It was a cool night with a white shell of a moon that washed a house here, a road there, and farther on, parts of a river.

“Cigarette?” The man offered Lantry one.

“Thanks.”

They lit up together. The man glanced at Lantry’s mouth. “Cool night.”

“Cool.”

They shifted their feet. “Terrible accident.”

“Terrible.”

“So many dead.”

“So many.”

Lantry felt himself some sort of delicate weight upon a scale. The other man did not seem to be looking at him, but rather listening and feeling toward him. There was a feathery balance here that made for vast discomfort.

He wanted to move away and get out from under this balancing, weighing.

The tall white-haired man said, “My name’s McClure.”

“Did you have any friends inside?” asked Lantry.

“No. A casual acquaintance. Awful accident.”

“Awful.”

They balanced each other. A beetle hissed by on the road with its seventeen tires whirling quietly. The moon showed a little town farther over in the black hills.

“I say,” said the man McClure.

“Yes.”

“Could you answer me a question?”

“Be glad to.” He loosened the knife in his coat pocket, ready.

“Is your name Lantry?” asked the man at last.

“Yes.”

“William Lantry?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re the man who came out of the Salem graveyard day before yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good Lord, I’m glad to meet you, Lantry! We’ve been trying to find you for the past twenty-four hours!”

The man seized his hand, pumped it, slapped him on the back.

“What, what?” said Lantry.

“Good Lord, man, why did you run off? Do you realize what an instance this is? We want to talk to you!”

McClure was smiling, glowing. Another handshake, another slap. “I thought it was you!”

The man is mad, thought Lantry. Absolutely mad. Here I’ve toppled his incinerators, killed people, and he’s shaking my hand. Mad, mad!

“Will you come along to the Hall?” said the man, taking his elbow.

“Wh-what hall?” Lantry stepped back.

“The Science Hall, of course. It isn’t every year we get a real case of suspended animation. In small animals, yes, but in a man, hardly! Will you come?”

“What’s the act!” demanded Lantry, glaring. “What’s all this talk.”

“My dear fellow, what do you mean?” the man was stunned.

“Never mind. Is that the only reason you want to see me?”

“What other reason would there be, Mr. Lantry? You don’t know how glad I am to see you!” He almost did a little dance. “I suspected. When we were in there together. You being so pale and all. And then the way you smoked your cigarette, something about it, and a lot of other things, all subliminal. But it is you, isn’t it, it is you!”

“It is I. William Lantry.” Dryly.

“Good fellow! Come along!”

The beetle moved swiftly through the dawn streets. McClure talked rapidly.

Lantry sat, listening, astounded. Here was this fool, McClure, playing his cards for him! Here was this stupid scientist, or whatever, accepting him not as a suspicious baggage, a murderous item. Oh no! Quite the contrary!

Only as a suspended animation case was he considered! Not as a dangerous man at all. Far from it!

“Of course,” cried McClure, grinning. “You didn’t know where to go, whom to turn to. It was all quite incredible to you.”

“Yes.”

“I had a feeling you’d be there at the morgue tonight,” said McClure, happily.

“Oh?” Lantry stiffened.

“Yes. Can’t explain it. But you, how shall I put it? Ancient Americans? You had funny ideas on death. And you were among the dead so long, I felt you’d be drawn back by the accident, by the morgue and all. It’s not very logical. Silly, in fact. It’s just a feeling. I hate feelings but there it was. I came on a, I guess you’d call it a hunch, wouldn’t you?”

“You might call it that.”

“And there you were!”

“There I was,” said Lantry.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’ve eaten.”

“How did you get around?”

“I hitchhiked.”

“You what? ”

“People gave me rides on the road.”

“Remarkable.”

“I imagine it sounds that way.” He looked at the passing houses. “So this is the era of space travel, is it?”

“Oh, we’ve been traveling to Mars for some forty years now.”

“Amazing. And those big funnels, those towers in the middle of every town?”

“Those. Haven’t you heard? The Incinerators. Oh, of course, they hadn’t anything of that sort in your time. Had some bad luck with them. An explosion in Salem and one here, all in a forty-eight-hour period. You looked as if you were going to speak; what is it?”

“I was thinking,” said Lantry. “How fortunate I got out of my coffin when I did. I might well have been thrown into one of your Incinerators and burned up.”

“Quite.”

Lantry toyed with the dials on the beetle dash. He wouldn’t go to Mars. His plans were changed. If this fool simply refused to recognize an act of violence when he stumbled upon it, then let him be a fool. If they didn’t connect the two explosions with a man from the tomb, all well and good. Let them go on deluding themselves. If they couldn’t imagine someone being mean and nasty and murderous, heaven help them. He rubbed his hands with satisfaction. No, no Martian trip for you, as yet, Lantry lad. First, we’ll see what can be done boring from the inside. Plenty of time. The Incinerators can wait an extra week or so. One has to be subtle, you know. Any more immediate explosions might cause quite a ripple of thought.

McClure was gabbling wildly on.

“Of course, you don’t have to be examined immediately. You’ll want a rest. I’ll put you up at my place.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel up to being probed and pulled. Plenty of time in a week or so.”

They drew up before a house and climbed out.

“You want to sleep, naturally.”

“I’ve been asleep for centuries. Be glad to stay awake. I’m not a bit tired.”

“Good.” McClure let them into the house. He headed for the drink bar.

“A drink will fix us up.”

“You have one,” said Lantry. “Later for me. I just want to sit down.”

“By all means sit.” McClure mixed himself a drink. He looked around the room, looked at Lantry, paused for a moment with the drink in his hand, tilted his head to one side, and put his tongue in his cheek. Then he shrugged and stirred the drink. He walked slowly to a chair and sat, sipping the drink quietly. He seemed to be listening for something. “There are cigarettes on the table,” he said.

“Thanks.” Lantry took one and lit it and smoked it. He did not speak for some time.

Lantry thought, I’m taking this all too easily. Maybe I should kill and run. He’s the only one that has found me, yet. Perhaps this is all a trap.

Perhaps we’re simply sitting here waiting for the police. Or whatever in blazes they use for police these days. He looked at McClure. No. They weren’t waiting for police. They were waiting for something else.

McClure didn’t speak. He looked at Lantry’s face and he looked at Lantry’s hands. He looked at Lantry’s chest a long time, with easy quietness.

He sipped his drink. He looked at Lantry’s feet.

Finally he said, “Where’d you get the clothing?”

“I asked someone for clothes and they gave these things to me. Darned nice of them.”

“You’ll find that’s how we are in this world. All you have to do is ask.”

McClure shut up again. His eyes moved. Only his eyes and nothing else. Once or twice he lifted his drink.

A little clock ticked somewhere in the distance.

“Tell me about yourself, Mr. Lantry.”

“Nothing much to tell.”

“You’re modest.”

“Hardly. You know about the past. I know nothing of the future, or I should say ‘today’ and day before yesterday. You don’t learn much in a coffin.”

McClure did not speak. He suddenly sat forward in his chair and then leaned back and shook his head.

They’ll never suspect me, thought Lantry. They aren’t superstitious, they simply can’t believe in a dead man walking. Therefore, I’ll be safe. I’ll keep putting off the physical checkup. They’re polite. They won’t force me.

Then, I’ll work it so I can get to Mars. After that, the tombs, in my own good time, and the plan. God, how simple. How naïve these people are.

McClure sat across the room for five minutes. A coldness had come over him. The color was very slowly going from his face, as one sees the color of medicine vanishing as one presses the bulb at the top of a dropper. He leaned forward, saying nothing, and offered another cigarette to Lantry.

“Thanks.” Lantry took it. McClure sat deeply back into his easy chair, his knees folded one over the other. He did not look at Lantry, and yet somehow did. The feeling of weighing and balancing returned. McClure was like a tall thin master of hounds listening for something that nobody else could hear. There are little silver whistles you can blow that only dogs can hear. McClure seemed to be listening acutely, sensitively for such an invisible whistle, listening with his eyes and with his half-opened, dry mouth, and with his aching, breathing nostrils.

Lantry sucked the cigarette, sucked the cigarette, sucked the cigarette, and, as many times, blew out, blew out, blew out. McClure was like some lean red-shagged hound listening and listening with a slick slide of eyes to one side, with an apprehension in that hand that was so precisely microscopic that one only sensed it, as one sensed the invisible whistle, with some part of the brain deeper than eyes or nostril or ear.

The room was so quiet the cigarette smoke made some kind of invisible noise rising to the ceiling. McClure was a thermometer, a chemist’s scales, a listening hound, a litmus paper, an antennae; all these. Lantry did not move. Perhaps the feeling would pass. It had passed before. McClure did not move for a long while and then, without a word, he nodded at the sherry decanter, and Lantry refused as silently. They sat looking but not looking at each other, again and away, again and away.

McClure stiffened slowly. Lantry saw the color getting paler in those lean cheeks, and the hand tightening on the sherry glass, and a knowledge come at last to stay, never to go away, into the eyes.

Lantry did not move. He could not. All of this was of such a fascination that he wanted only to see, to hear what would happen next. It was McClure’s show from here on in.

McClure said, “At first I thought it was the first psychosis I have ever seen. You, I mean. I thought, he’s convinced himself, Lantry’s convinced himself, he’s quite insane, he’s told himself to do all these little things.”

McClure talked as if in a dream, and continued talking and didn’t stop.

“I said to myself, he purposely doesn’t breathe through his nose. I watched your nostrils, Lantry. The little nostril hairs never once quivered in the last hour. That wasn’t enough. It was a fact I filed. It wasn’t enough. He breathes through his mouth, I said, on purpose. And then I gave you a cigarette and you sucked and blew, sucked and blew. None of it ever came out your nose. I told myself, well, that’s all right. He doesn’t inhale. Is that terrible, is that suspect? All in the mouth, all in the mouth. And then, I looked at your chest. I watched. It never moved up or down, it did nothing. He’s convinced himself, I said to myself. He’s convinced himself about all this. He doesn’t move his chest, except slowly, when he thinks you’re not looking.

That’s what I told myself.”

The words went on in the silent room, not pausing, still in a dream.

“And then I offered you a drink but you don’t drink and I thought, he doesn’t drink, I thought. Is that terrible? And I watched and watched you all this time.

Lantry holds his breath, he’s fooling himself. But now, yes, now, I understand it quite well. Now I know everything the way it is. Do you know how I know?

I do not hear breathing in the room. I wait and I hear nothing. There is no beat of heart or intake of lung. The room is so silent. Nonsense, one might say, but I know. At the Incinerator I know. There is a difference. You enter a room where a man is on a bed and you know immediately whether he will look up and speak to you or whether he will not speak to you ever again. Laugh if you will, but one can tell. It is a subliminal thing. It is the whistle the dog hears when no human hears. It is the tick of a clock that has ticked so long one no longer notices. Something is in a room when a man lives in it. Something is not in the room when a man is dead in it.”

McClure shut his eyes a moment. He put down his sherry glass. He waited a moment. He took up his cigarette and puffed it and then put it down in a black tray.

“I am alone in this room,” he said.

Lantry did not move.

“You are dead,” said McClure. “My mind does not know this. It is not a thinking thing. It is a thing of the senses and the subconscious. At first I thought, this man thinks he is dead, risen from the dead, a vampire. Is that not logical? Would not any man, buried as many centuries, raised in a superstitious, ignorant culture, think likewise of himself once risen from the tomb? Yes, that is logical. This man has hypnotized himself and fitted his bodily functions so that they would in no way interfere with his self-delusion, his great paranoia. He governs his breathing. He tells himself, I cannot hear my breathing, therefore I am dead. His inner mind censors the sound of breathing. He does not allow himself to eat or drink. These things he probably does in his sleep, with part of his mind, hiding the evidences of this humanity from his deluded mind at other times.”

McClure finished it. “I was wrong. You are not insane. You are not deluding yourself. Nor me. This is all very illogical and—I must admit—

almost frightening. Does that make you feel good, to think you frighten me? I have no label for you. You’re a very odd man, Lantry. I’m glad to have met you. This will make an interesting report indeed.”

“Is there anything wrong with me being dead?” said Lantry. “Is it a crime?”

“You must admit it’s highly unusual.”

“But, still now, is it a crime?” asked Lantry.

“We have no crime, no criminal court. We want to examine you, naturally, to find out how you have happened. It is like that chemical which, one minute is inert, the next is living cell. Who can say where what happened to what. You are that impossibility. It is enough to drive a man quite insane.”

“Will I be released when you are done fingering me?”

“You will not be held. If you don’t wish to be examined, you will not be. But I am hoping you will help by offering us your services.”

“I might,” said Lantry.

“But tell me,” said McClure. “What were you doing at the morgue?”

“Nothing.”

“I heard you talking when I came in.”

“I was merely curious.”

“You’re lying. That is very bad, Mr. Lantry. The truth is far better. The truth is, is it not, that you are dead and, being the only one of your sort, were lonely. Therefore you killed people to have company.”

“How does that follow?”

McClure laughed. “Logic, my dear fellow. Once I knew you were really dead, a moment ago, really a—what do you call it—a vampire (silly word!) I tied you immediately to the Incinerator blasts. Before that there was no reason to connect you. But once the one piece fell into place, the fact that you were dead, then it was simple to guess your loneliness, your hate, your envy, all of the tawdry motivations of a walking corpse. It took only an instant then to see the Incinerators blown to blazes, and then to think of you, among the bodies at the morgue, seeking help, seeking friends and people like yourself to work with—”

“Blast you!” Lantry was out of the chair. He was halfway to the other man when McClure rolled over and scuttled away, flinging the sherry decanter. With a great despair Lantry realized that, like an idiot, he had thrown away his one chance to kill McClure. He should have done it earlier. It had been Lantry’s one weapon, his safety margin. If people in a society never killed each other, they never suspected one another. You could walk up to any one of them and kill him.

“Come back here!” Lantry threw the knife.

McClure got behind a chair. The idea of flight, of protection, of fighting, was still new to him. He had part of the idea, but there was still a bit of luck on Lantry’s side if Lantry wanted to use it.

“Oh, no,” said McClure, holding the chair between himself and the advancing man. “You want to kill me. It’s odd, but true. I can’t understand it.

You want to cut me with that knife or something like that, and it’s up to me to prevent you from doing such an odd thing.”

“I will kill you!” Lantry let it slip out. He cursed himself. That was the worst possible thing to say.

Lantry lunged across the chair, clutching at McClure.

McClure was very logical. “It won’t do you any good to kill me. You know that.” They wrestled and held each other in a wild, toppling shuffle.

Tables fell over, scattering articles. “You remember what happened in the morgue?”

“I don’t care!” screamed Lantry.

“You didn’t raise those dead, did you?”

“I don’t care!” cried Lantry.

“Look here,” said McClure, reasonably. “There will never be any more like you, ever, there’s no use.”

“Then I’ll destroy all of you, all of you!” screamed Lantry.

“And then what? You’ll still be alone, with no more like you about.”

“I’ll go to Mars. They have tombs there. I’ll find more like myself!”

“No,” said McClure. “The executive order went through yesterday. All of the tombs are being deprived of their bodies. They’ll be burned in the next week.”

They fell together to the floor. Lantry got his hands on McClure’s throat.

“Please,” said McClure. “Do you see, you’ll die.”

“What do you mean?” cried Lantry.

“Once you kill all of us, and you’re alone, you’ll die! The hate will die. That hate is what moved you, nothing else! That envy moves you.

Nothing else! You’ll die, inevitably. You’re not immortal. You’re not even alive, you’re nothing but a moving hate.”

“I don’t care!” screamed Lantry, and began choking the man, beating his head with his fists, crouched on the defenseless body. McClure looked up at him with dying eyes.

The front door opened. Two men came in.

“I say,” said one of them. “What’s going on? A new game?”

Lantry jumped back and began to run.

“Yes, a new game!” said McClure, struggling up. “Catch him and you win!”

The two men caught Lantry. “We win,” they said.

“Let me go!” Lantry thrashed, hitting them across their faces, bringing blood.

“Hold him tight!” cried McClure.

They held him.

“A rough game, what?” one of them said. “What do we do now? ”

The beetle hissed along the shining road. Rain fell out of the sky and a wind ripped at the dark green wet trees. In the beetle, his hands on the half-wheel, McClure was talking. His voice was susurrant, a whispering, a hypnotic thing. The two other men sat in the back seat. Lantry sat, or rather lay, in the front seat, his head back, his eyes faintly open, the glowing green light of the dash dials showing on his cheeks. His mouth was relaxed. He did not speak.

McClure talked quietly and logically, about life and moving, about death and not moving, about the sun and the great sun Incinerator, about the emptied tombyard, about hatred and how hate lived and made a clay man live and move, and how illogical it all was, it all was, it all was. One was dead, was dead, was dead, that was all, all, all. One did not try to be otherwise. The car whispered on the moving road. The rain spattered gently on the windshield. The men in the back seat conversed quietly. Where were they going, going? To the Incinerator, of course. Cigarette smoke moved slowly up on the air, curling and tying into itself in gray loops and spirals. One was dead and must accept it.

Lantry did not move. He was a marionette, the strings cut. There was only a tiny hatred in his heart, in his eyes, like twin coals, feeble, glowing, fading.

I am Poe, he thought. I am all that is left of Edgar Allan Poe, and I am all that is left of Ambrose Bierce and all that is left of a man named Lovecraft.

I am a gray night bat with sharp teeth, and I am a square black monolith monster. I am Osiris and Bal and Set. I am the Necronomicon, the Book of the Dead. I am the house of Usher, falling into flame. I am the Red Death. I am the man mortared into the catacomb with a cask of Amontillado … I am a dancing skeleton. I am a coffin, a shroud, a lightning bolt reflected in an old house window. I am an autumn-empty tree, I am a rapping, flinging shutter. I am a yellowed volume turned by a claw hand. I am an organ played in an attic at midnight. I am a mask, a skull mask behind an oak tree on the last day of October. I am a poison apple bobbling in a water tub for child noses to bump at, for child teeth to snap … I am a black candle lighted before an inverted cross. I am a coffin lid, a sheet with eyes, a foot-step on a black stairwell. I am Dunsany and Machen and I am the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I am The Monkey’s Paw and I am The Phantom Rickshaw. I am the Cat and the Canary, the Gorilla, the Bat. I am the ghost of Hamlet’s father on the castle wall.

All of these things am I. And now these last things will be burned.

While I lived they still lived. While I moved and hated and existed, they still existed. I am all that remembers them. I am all of them that still goes on, and will not go on after tonight. Tonight, all of us, Poe and Bierce and Hamlet’s father, we burn together. They will make a big heap of us and burn us like a bonfire, like things of Guy Fawkes’ day, gasoline, torches, cries, and all!

And what a wailing will we put up. The world will be clean of us, but in our going we shall say, oh what is the world like, clean of fear, where is the dark imagination from the dark time, the thrill and the anticipation, the suspense of old October, gone, never more to come again, flattened and smashed and burned by the rocket people, by the Incinerator people, destroyed and obliterated, to be replaced by doors that open and close and lights that go on and off without fear. If only you could remember how once we lived, what Halloween was to us, and what Poe was, and how we gloried in the dark morbidities. One more drink, dear friends, of Amontillado, before the burning. All of this, all, exists but in one last brain on earth. A whole world dying tonight. One more drink, pray.

“Here we are,” said McClure.

The Incinerator was brightly lighted. There was quiet music nearby.

McClure got out of the beetle, came around to the other side. He opened the door. Lantry simply lay there. The talking and the logical talking had slowly drained him of life. He was no more than wax now, with a small glow in his eyes. This future world, how the men talked to you, how logically they reasoned away your life. They wouldn’t believe in him. The force of their disbelief froze him. He could not move his arms or his legs. He could only mumble senselessly, coldly, eyes flickering.

McClure and the two others helped him out of the car, put him in a golden box, and rolled him on a roller table into the warm glowing interior of the building.

I am Edgar Allan Poe, I am Ambrose Bierce, I am Halloween, I am a coffin, a shroud, a Monkey’s Paw, a Phantom, a Vampire …

“Yes, yes,” said McClure, quietly, over him. “I know. I know.”

The table glided. The walls swung over him and by him, the music played. You are dead, you are logically dead.

I am Usher, I am the Maelstrom, I am the MS Found In A Bottle, I am the Pit and I am the Pendulum, I am the Telltale Heart, I am the Raven nevermore, nevermore.

“Yes,” said McClure, as they walked softly. “I know.”

“I am in the catacomb,” cried Lantry.

“Yes, the catacomb,” said the walking man over him.

“I am being chained to a wall, and there is no bottle of Amontillado here!” cried Lantry weakly, eyes closed.

“Yes,” someone said.

There was movement. The flame door opened.

“Now someone is mortaring up the cell, closing me in!”

“Yes, I know.” A whisper.

The golden box slid into the flame lock.

“I’m being walled in! A very good joke indeed! Let us be gone!” A wild scream and much laughter.

“We know, we understand …”

The inner flame lock opened. The golden coffin shot forth into flame.

“For the love of God, Montresor! For the love of God !”

The End

Conclusion

It’s a nice little story to read. A bit on the horrific side, but a good read never the less. I hope that you all enjoyed it.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Ray Bradbury Index here…

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Chrysalis by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury. I dedicate it to the many, many MM readers that tell me that they have changed by visiting this site, and that they are all the better for it. They tell me stories, and adventures, and just amazing events that confirm that everyone is on the right track. This story is about a man who changes.

Chrysalis.

This story  is dedicated to youse guys. It’s my way of telling you that I recognize what you are tying to ell me, and that I am so gladdened by your stories. It’s just a fictional story, and you all, well, you all are the “real deal”.  But Ray Bradbury has such a way with the words, and he conjures up such imagery, that I think that this is a treasure.

A treasure that is worthy for you all.

Chrysalis

Rockwell didn’t like the room’s smell. Not so much McGuke’s odor of beer, or Hartley’s unwashed, tired smell—-but the sharp insect tang rising from Smith’s cold green-skinned body lying stiffly naked on the table. There was also a smell of oil and grease from the nameless machinery gleaming in one comer of the small room.

The man Smith was a corpse. Irritated, Rockwell rose from his chair and packed his stethoscope. “I must get back to the hospital. War rush. You understand, Hartley. Smith’s been dead eight hours. If you want further information call a post-mortem—”

He stopped as Hartley raised a trembling, bony hand. Hartley gestured at the corpse—this corpse with brittle hard green shell grown solid over every inch of flesh. “Use your stethoscope again, Rockwell. Just once more. Please.”

Rockwell wanted to complain, but instead he sighed, sat down, and used the stethoscope. You have to treat fellow doctors politely. You press your stethoscope into cold green flesh, pretending to listen—

The small, dimly lit room exploded around him. Exploded in one green cold pulsing. It hit Rockwell’s ears like fists. It hit him. He saw his own fingers jerk over the recumbent corpse.

He heard a pulse.

Deep in the dark body the heart beat once. It sounded like an echo in fathoms of sea water.

Smith was dead, unbreathing, mummified. But at the core of that deadness—his heart lived. Lived, stirring like a small unborn baby!

Rockwell’s crisp surgeon’s fingers darted rapidly. He bent his head. In the light it was dark-haired, with flecks of gray in it. He had an even, level, nice-looking face. About thirty-five. He listened again and again, with sweat coming cold on his smooth cheeks. The pulse was not to be believed.

One heartbeat every thirty-five seconds.

Smith’s respiration—how could you believe that, too one breath of air every four minutes. Lungcase movement imperceptible.

Body temperature?

Sixty degrees.

Hartley laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. More like an echo that had gotten lost. “He’s alive,” he said tiredly. “Yes, he is. He almost fooled me many times. I injected adrenalin to speed that pulse, but it was no use. He’s been this way for twelve weeks. And I couldn’t stand keeping him a secret any longer. That’s why I phoned you, Rockwell. He’s—unnatural.

The impossibility of it overwhelmed Rockwell with an inexplicable excitement. He tried to lift Smiths’ eyelids. He couldn’t. They were webbed with epidermis. So were the lips. So were the nostrils. There was no way for Smith to breathe—

“Yet, he’s breathing.” Rockwell’s voice was numb. He dropped his stethoscope blankly, picked it up, and saw his fingers shaking.

Hartley grew tall, emaciated, nervous over the table. “Smith didn’t like my calling you. I called anyway. Smith warned me not to. Just an hour ago.”

Rockell’s eyes dilated into hot black circles. “How could he warn you? He can’t move.”

Hartley’s face, all razor-sharp bone, hard jaw, tight squinting gray eyes, twitched nervously. Smith— thinks. I know his thoughts. He’s afraid you’ll expose him to the world. He hates me. Why? I want to kill him, that’s why. Here.” Hardey fumbled blindly for a blue-steel revolver in his rumpled, stained coat. “Murphy. Take this. Take it before I use it on Smith’s foul body!”

Murphy pulled back, his thick red face afraid. “Don’t like guns. You take it, Rockwell.”

Like a scalpel, Rockwell made his voice slash. “Put the gun away, Hartley. After three months tending one patient you’ve got a psychological blemish. Sleep’ll help that.” He licked his lips. “What sort of disease has Smith got?”

Hartley swayed. His mouth moved words out slowly. Falling asleep on his feet, Rockwell realized. “Not diseased,” Hartley managed to say. “Don’t know what. But I resent him, like a kid resents the birth of a new brother or sister. He’s wrong. Help me. Help me, will you?”

“Of course.” Rockwell smiled. “My desert sanitarium’s the place to check him over, good. Why—why Smith’s the most incredible medical phenomenon in history. Bodies just don’t act this way!”

He got no further. Hartley had his gun pointed right at Rockwell’s stomach. “Wait. Wait. You—you’re not going to bury Smith! I thought you’d help me. Smith’s not healthy. I want him killed! He’s dangerous! I know he is!”

Rockwell blinked. Hartley was obviously psychoneurotic. Didn’t know what he was saying. Rockwell straightened his shoulders, feeling cool and calm inside. “Shoot Smith and I’ll turn you in for murder. You’re overworked mentally and physically. Put the gun away.”

They stared at one another.

Rockwell walked forward quietly and took the gun, patted Hartley understandingly on the shoulder, and gave the weapon to Murphy, who looked at it as if it would bite him. “Call the hospital. Murphy. I’m taking a week off. Maybe longer. Tell them I’m doing research at the sanitarium.”

A scowl formed in the red fat flesh of Murphy’s face. “What do I do with this gun?”

Hartley shut his teeth together, hard. “Keep it. You’ll want to use it—

later.”

Rockwell wanted to shout it to the world that he was sole possessor of the most incredible human in history. The sun was bright in the desert sanitarium room where

Smith lay, not saying a word, on his table; his handsome face frozen into a green, passionless expression.

Rockwell walked into the room quietly. He used the stethoscope on the green chest. It scraped, making the noise of metal tapping a beetle’s carapace.

McGuire stood by, eyeing the body dubiously, smelling of several recently acquired beers.

Rockwell listened intently. “The ambulance ride may have jolted him.

No use taking a chance—”

Rockwell cried out.

Heavily, McGuire lumbered to his side. ‘What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Rockwell stared about in desperation. He made one hand into a fist. “Smith’s dying!”

“How do you know? Hartley said Smith plays possum. He’s fooled you again—”

“No!” Rockwell worked furiously over the body, injecting drugs. Any drugs. Swearing at the top of his voice. After all this trouble, he couldn’t lose Smith. No, not now.

Shaking, jarring, twisting deep down inside, going completely liquidly mad. Smith’s body sounded like dim volcanic tides bursting.

Rockwell fought to remain calm. Smith was a case unto himself.

Normal treatment did nothing for him. What then? What?

Rockwell stared. Sunlight gleamed on Smith’s hard flesh. Hot sunlight. It flashed, glinting off the stethoscope tip. The sun. As he watched, clouds shifted across the sky outside, taking the sun away. The room darkened. Smith’s body shook into silence. The volcanic tides died.

“McGuire! Pull the blinds! Before the sun comes back!”

McGuire obeyed.

Smith’s heart slowed down to its sluggish, infrequent breathing.

“Sunlight’s bad for Smith. It counteracts something. I don’t know what or why, but it’s not good—” Rockwell relaxed. “Lord, I wouldn’t want to lose Smith. Not for anything. He’s different, making his own standards, doing things men have never done. Know something, Murphy?”

“What?”

“Smith’s not in agony. He’s not dying either. He wouldn’t be better off dead, no matter what Hartley says. Last night as I arranged Smith on the stretcher, readying him for his trip to this sanitarium, I realized, suddenly, that Smith likes me.”

“Gah. First Hartley. Now you. Did Smith tell you that?”

“He didn’t tell me. But he’s not unconscious under all that hard skin.

He’s aware. Yes, that’s it. He’s aware.”

“Pure and simply—he’s petrifying. He’ll die. It’s been weeks since he was fed. Hartley said so. Hartley fed him intravenously until the skin toughened so a needle couldn’t poke through it.”

Whining, the cubicle door swung slowly open. Rockwell started.

Hartley, his sharp face relaxed after hours of sleep, his eyes still a bitter gray, hostile, stood tall in the door. “If you’ll leave the room,” he said, quietly, “I’ll destroy Smith in a very few seconds. Well?”

“Don’t come a step closer.” Rockwell walked, feeling irritation, to Hartley’s side. “Every time you visit, you’ll have to be searched. Frankly, I don’t trust you.” There were no weapons. “Why didn’t you tell me about the sunlight?”

“Eh?” Soft and slow Hartley said it. “Oh—yes. I forgot. I tried shifting Smith weeks ago. Sunlight struck him and he began really dying.

Naturally, I stopped trying to move him. Smith seemed to know what was coming, vaguely. Perhaps he planned it; I’m not sure. While he was still able to talk and eat ravenously, before his body stiffened completely, he warned me not to move him for a twelve-week period. Said he didn’t like the sun.

Said it would spoil things. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. He ate like an animal, a hungry, wild animal, fell into a coma, and here he is—” Hartley swore under his breath. “I’d rather hoped you’d leave him in the sun long enough to kill him inadvertently.”

McGuire shifted his two hundred fifty pounds. “Look here, now.

What if we catch Smith’s disease?”

Hartley looked at the body, his pupils shrinking. “Smith’s not diseased. Don’t you recognize degeneration when you see it? It’s like cancer.

You don’t catch it, you inherit a tendency. I didn’t begin to fear and hate Smith until a week ago when I discovered he was breathing and existing and thriving with his nostrils and mouth sealed. It can’t happen. It mustn’t happen.”

McGuire’s voice trembled. “What if you and I and Rockwell all turn green and a plague sweeps the country—what then?”

“Then,” replied Rockwell, “if I’m wrong, perhaps I am, I’ll die. But it doesn’t worry me in the least.”

He turned back to Smith and went on with his work.

A bell. A bell. Two bells, two bells. A dozen bells, a hundred bells.

Ten thousand and a million clangorous, hammering metal dinning bells. All born at once in the silence, squalling, screaming, hurting echoes, bruising ears!

Ringing, chanting with loud and soft, tenor and bass, low and high voices. Great-armed clappers knocking the shells and ripping air with the thrusting din of sound!

With all those bells ringing, Smith could not immediately know where he was. He knew that he could not see, because his eyelids were sealed tight, knew he could not speak because his lips had grown together. His ears were clamped shut, but the bells hammered nevertheless.

He could not see. But yes, yes, he could, and it was like inside a small dark red cavern, as if his eyes were turned inward upon his skull. And Smith tried to twist his tongue, and suddenly, trying to scream, he knew his tongue was gone, that the place where it used to be was vacant, an itching spot that wanted a tongue but couldn’t have it just now.

No tongue. Strange. Why? Smith tried to stop the bells. They ceased, blessing him with a silence that wrapped him up in a cold blanket. Things were happening. Happening.

Smith tried to twitch a finger, but he had no control. A foot, a leg, a toe, his head, everything. Nothing moved. Torso, limbs—immovable, frozen in a concrete coffin.

A moment later came the dread discovery that he was no longer breathing. Not with his lungs, anyway.

 

“BECAUSE I HAVE NO LUNGS!” he screamed. Inwardly he screamed and that mental scream was drowned, webbed, clotted, and journeyed drowsily down in a red, dark tide. A red drowsy tide that sleepily swathed the scream, garroted it, took it all away, making Smith rest easier.

I am not afraid, he thought. I understand that which I do not understand. I understand that I do not fear, yet know not the reason.

No tongue, no nose, no lungs.

But they would come later. Yes, they would. Things were—

happening.

Through the pores of his shelled body air slid, like rain needling each portion of him, giving life. Breathing through a billion gills, breathing oxygen and nitrogen and hydrogen and carbon dioxide, and using it all. Wondering.

Was his heart still beating?

But yes, it was beating. Slow, slow, slow. A red dim susurrance, a flood, a river surging around him, slow, slower, slower. So nice.

So restful.

The jigsaw pieces fitted together faster as the days drifted into weeks.

McGuire helped. A retired surgeon-medico, he’d been Rockwell’s secretary for a number of years. Not much help, but good company.

Rockwell noted that McGuire joked gruffly about Smith, nervously; and a lot. Trying to be calm. But one day McGuire stopped, thought it over, and drawled, “Hey, it just came to me! Smith’s alive. He should be dead. But he’s alive. Good God!”

Rockwell laughed. “What in blazes do you think I’m working on? I’m bringing an X-ray machine out next week so I can find out what’s going on inside Smith’s shell.” Rockwell jabbed with a hypo needle. It broke on the hard shell.

Rockwell tried another needle, and another, until finally he punctured, drew blood, and placed the slides under the microscope for study. Hours later he calmly shoved a serum test under McGuire’s red nose, and spoke quickly.

“Lord, I can’t believe it. His blood’s germicidal. I dropped a streptococci colony into it and the strep was annihilated in eight seconds! You could inject every known disease into Smith and he’d destroy them all, thrive on them!”

It was only a matter of hours until other discoveries. It kept Rockwell sleepless, tossing at night, wondering, theorizing the titanic ideas over and over. For instance—

Hartley’d fed Smith so many cc’s of blood-food every day of his illness until recently. NONE OF THAT FOOD HAD EVER BEEN

ELIMINATED. All of it had been stored, not in bulk-fats, but in a perfectly abnormal solution, an x-liquid contained in high concentrate form in Smith’s blood. An ounce of it would keep a man well fed for three days. This x-liquid circulated through the body until it was actually needed, when it was seized upon and used. More serviceable than fat. Much more!

Rockwell glowed with his discovery. Smith had enough x-liquid stored in him to last months and months more. Self-sustaining.

McGuire, when told, contemplated his paunch sadly.

“I wish I stored my food that way.”

That wasn’t all. Smith needed little air. What air he had he seemed to acquire by an osmotic process through his skin. And he used every molecule of it. No waste.

“And,” finished Rockwell, “eventually Smith’s heart might even take vacations from beating, entirely!”

“Then he’d be dead,” said McGuire.

“To you and I, yes. To Smith—maybe. Just maybe. Think of it, McGuire. Collectively, in Smith, we have a self-purifying blood stream demanding no replenishment but an interior one for months, having little breakdown and no elimination of wastes whatsoever because every molecule is utilized, self-evolving, and fatal to any and all microbic life. All this, and Hartley speaks of degeneration!”

Hartley was irritated when he heard of the discoveries. But he still insisted that Smith was degenerating. Dangerous.

McGuire tossed his two cents in. “How do we know that this isn’t some super microscopic disease that annihilates all other bacteria while it works on its victim. After all—malarial fever is sometimes used surgically to cure syphilis; why not a new bacillus that conquers all?”

“Good point,” said Rockwell. “But we’re not sick, are we?”

“It may have to incubate in our bodies.”

“A typical old-fashioned doctor’s response. No matter what happens to a man, he’s ‘sick’—if he varies from the norm. That’s your idea, Hartley,”

declared Rockwell, “not mine. Doctors aren’t satisfied unless they diagnose and label each case. Well, I think that Smith’s healthy; so healthy you’re afraid of him.”

“You’re crazy,” said McGuire.

“Maybe. But I don’t think Smith needs medical interference. He’s working out his own salvation. You believe he’s degenerating. I say he’s growing.’*

“Look at Smith’s skin,” complained McGuire.

“Sheep in wolfs clothing. Outside, the hard, brittle epidermis. Inside, ordered regrowth, change. Why? I’m on the verge of knowing. These changes inside Smith are so violent that they need a shell to protect their action. And as for you. Hartley, answer me truthfully, when you were young, were you afraid of insects, spiders, things like that?”

“Yes.”

“There you are. A phobia. A phobia you use against Smith. That explains your distaste for Smith’s change.”

In the following weeks, Rockwell went back over Smith’s life carefully. He visited the electronics lab where Smith had been employed and fallen ill. He probed the room where Smith had spent the first weeks of his

“illness” with Hartley in attendance. He examined the machinery there.

Something about radiations

While he was away from the sanitarium, Rockwell locked Smith tightly, and had McGuire guard the door in case Hartley got any unusual ideas.

The details of Smith’s twenty-three years were simple. He had worked for five years in the electronics lab, experimenting. He had never been seriously sick in his life.

And as the days went by Rockwell took long walks in the dry-wash near the sanitarium, alone. It gave him time to think and solidify the incredible theory that was becoming a unit in his brain.

And one afternoon he paused by a night-blooming jasmine outside the sanitarium, reached up, smiling, and plucked a dark shining object off of a high branch. He looked at the object and tucked it in his pocket. Then he walked into the sanitarium.

He summoned McGuire in off the veranda. McGuire came. Hartley trailed behind, threatening, complaining. The three of them sat in the living quarters of the building.

Rockwell told them.

“Smith’s not diseased. Germs can’t live in him. He’s not inhabited by banshees or weird monsters who’ve ‘taken over’ his body. I mention this to show I’ve left no stone untouched. I reject all normal diagnoses of Smith. I offer the most important, the most easily accepted possibility of—delayed hereditary mutation.”

“Mutation?” McGuire’s voice was funny.

Rockwell held up the shiny dark object in the light.

“I found this on a bush in the garden. It’ll illustrate my theory to perfection. After studying Smith’s symptoms, examining his laboratory, and considering several of these”—he twirled the dark object in his fingers— “I’m certain. It’s metamorphosis. It’s regeneration, change, mutation after birth.

Here. Catch. This is Smith.”

He tossed the object to Hartley. Hartley caught it.

“This is the chrysalis of a caterpillar,” said Hartley.

Rockwell nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“You don’t mean to infer that Smith’s a— chrysalis?”

“I’m positive of it,” replied Rockwell.

Rockwell stood over Smith’s body in the darkness of evening. Hartley and McGuire sat across the patient’s room, quiet, listening. Rockwell touched Smith softly. “Suppose that there’s more to life than just being born, living seventy years, and dying. Suppose there’s one more great step up in man’s existence, and Smith has been the first of us to make that step.

“Looking at a caterpillar, we see what we consider a static object. But it changes to a butterfly. Why? There are no final theories explaining it. It’s progress, mainly. The pertinent thing is that a supposedly unchangeable object weaves itself into an intermediary object, wholly unrecognizable, a chrysalis, and emerges a butterfly. Outwardly the chrysalis looks dead. This is misdirection. Smith has misdirected us, you see. Outwardly, dead. Inwardly, fluids whirlpool, reconstruct, rush about with wild purpose. From grub to mosquito, from caterpillar to butterfly, from Smith to—?”

“Smith a chrysalis?” McGuire laughed heavily.

“Yes.”

“Humans don’t work that way.”

“Stop it, McGuire. This evolutionary step’s too great for your comprehension. Examine this body and tell me anything else. Skin, eyes, breathing, blood flow. Weeks of assimilating food for his brittle hibernation.

Why did he eat all that food, why did he need that x-liquid in his body except for his metamorphosis? And the cause of it all was—eradiations. Hard radiations from Smith’s laboratory equipment. Planned or accidental I don’t know. It touched some part of his essential gene-structure, some part of the evolutionary structure of man that wasn’t scheduled for working for thousands of years yet, perhaps.”

“Do you think that some day all men—?”

“The maggot doesn’t stay in the stagnant pond, the grub in the soil, or the caterpillar on a cabbage leaf. They change, spreading across space in waves.

“Smith’s the answer to the problem ‘What happens next for man, where do we go from here?’ We’re faced with the blank wall of the universe and the fatality of living in that universe, and man as he is today is not prepared to go against the universe. The least exertion tires man, overwork kills his heart, disease his body. Maybe Smith will be prepared to answer the philosophers’ problem of life’s purpose. Maybe he can give it new purpose.

“Why, we’re just petty insects, all of us, fighting on a pinhead planet.

Man isn’t meant to remain here and be sick and small and weak, but he hasn’t discovered the secret of the greater knowledge yet.

“But—change man. Build your perfect man. Your— your superman, if you like. Eliminate petty mentality, give him complete physiological, neurological, psychological control of himself: give him clear, incisive channels of thought, give him an indefatigable blood stream, a body that can go months without outside food, that can adjust to any climate anywhere and kill any disease. Release man from the shackles of flesh and flesh misery and then he’s no longer a poor, petty little man afraid to dream because he knows his frail body stands between him and the fulfillment of dreams, then he’s ready to wage war, the only war worth waging—the conflict of man reborn and the whole confounded universe!”

Breathless, voice hoarse, heart pounding, Rockwell tensed over Smith, placed his hands admiringly, firmly on the cold length of the chrysalis and shut his eyes. The power and drive and belief in Smith surged through him. He was right. He was right. He knew he was right. He opened his eyes and looked at McGuire and Hartley who were mere shadows in the dim shielded light of the room.

After a silence of several seconds. Hartley snuffed out his cigarette. “I don’t believe that theory.”

McGuire said, “How do youknow Smith’s not just a mess of jelly inside? Did you X-ray him?”

“I couldn’t risk it, it might interfere with his change, like the sunlight did.”

“So he’s going to be a superman? What will he look like?”

“We’ll wait and see.”

“Do you think he can hear us talking about him now?”

 

“Whether or not he can, there’s one thing certain— we’re sharing a secret we weren’t intended to know. Smith didn’t plan on myself and McGuire entering the case. He had to make the most of it. But a superman doesn’t like people to know about him. Humans have a nasty way of being envious, jealous, and hateful. Smith knew he wouldn’t be safe if found out. Maybe that explains your hatred, too. Hartley.”

They all remained silent, listening. Nothing sounded. Rockwell’s blood whispered in his temples, that was all. There was Smith, no longer Smith, a container labeled Smith, its contents unknown.

“If what you say is true,” said Hartley, “then indeed we should destroy him. Think of the power over the world he would have. And if it affects his brain as I think it will affect it—he’ll try to kill us when he escapes because we are the only ones who know about him. He’ll hate us for prying.”

Rockwell said it easily. “I’m not afraid.”

Hartley remained silent. His breathing was harsh and loud in the room.

Rockwell came around the table, gesturing.

“I think we’d better say good-night now, don’t you?”

The thin rain swallowed Hartley’s car. Rockwell closed the door, instructed McGuire to sleep downstairs tonight on a cot fronting Smith’s room, and then he walked upstairs to bed.

Undressing, he had time to conjure over all the unbelievable events of the passing weeks. A superman. Why not? Efficiency, strength—

He slipped into bed.

When. When does Smith emerge from his chrysalis? When?

The rain drizzled quietly on the roof of the sanitarium.

McGuire lay in the middle of the sound of rain and the earthquaking of thunder, slumbering on the cot, breathing heavy breaths. Somewhere, a door creaked, but McGuire breathed on. Wind gusted down the hall.

McGuire granted and rolled over. A door closed softly and the wind ceased.

Footsteps tread softly on the deep carpeting. Slow footsteps, aware and alert and ready. Footsteps. McGuire blinked his eyes and opened them.

In the dim light a figure stood over him.

Upstairs, a single light m the hall thrust down a yellow shaft near McGuire’s cot.

An odor of crashed insect filled the air. A hand moved. A voice started to speak.

McGuire screamed.

Because the hand that moved into the light was green.

Green.

“Smith!’

McGuire flung himself ponderously down the hall, yelling.

“He’s walking! He can’t walk, but he’s walking!”

The door rammed open under McGuire’s bulk. Wind and rain shrieked in around him and he was gone into the storm, babbling.

In the hall, the figure was motionless. Upstairs a door opened swiftly and Rockwell ran down the steps. The green hand moved back out of the light behind the figure’s back.

“Who is it?” Rockwell paused halfway.

The figure stepped into the light.

Rockwell’s eyes narrowed.

“Hartley! What are you doing back here?”

“Something happened,” said Hartley. “You’d better get McGuire. He ran out in the rain babbling like a fool.”

Rockwell kept his thoughts to himself. He searched Hartley swiftly with one glance and then ran down the hall and out into the cold wind.

“McGuire! McGuire, come back you idiot!” The rain fell on Rockwell’s body as he ran. He found McGuire about a hundred yards from the sanitarium, blubbering,

“Smith—Smith’s walking .. .” “Nonsense. Hartley came back, that’s all.”

“I saw a green hand. It moved.”

“You dreamed.”

“No. No.” McGuire’s face was flabby pale, with water on it. “I saw a green hand, believe me. Why did Hartley come back? He—”

At the mention of Hartley’s name, full comprehension came smashing to Rockwell. Fear leaped through his mind, a mad blur of warning, a jagged edge of silent screaming for help.

“Hartley!”

Shoving McGuire abruptly aside, Rockwell twisted and leaped back toward the sanitarium, shouting. Into the hall, down the hall—

Smith’s door was broken open.

Gun in hand, Hartley was in the center of the room. He turned at the noise of Rockwell’s running. They both moved simultaneously. Hartley fired his gun and Rockwell pulled the light switch.

Darkness. Flame blew across the room, profiling Smith’s rigid body like a flash photo. Rockwell jumped at the flame. Even as he jumped, shocked deep, realizing why Hartley had returned. In that instant before the lights blinked out Rockwell had a glimpse of Hartley’s fingers.

They were a brittle mottled green.

Fists then. And Hartley collapsing as the lights came on, and McGuire, dripping wet at the door, shook out the words, “Is—is Smith killed?”

Smith wasn’t harmed. The shot had passed over him.

“This fool, this fool,” cried Rockwell, standing over Hartley’s numbed shape. “Greatest case in history and he tries to destroy it!”

Hartley came around, slowly. “I should’ve known. Smith warned you.”

“Nonsense, he—” Rockwell stopped, amazed. Yes. That sudden premonition crashing into his mind. Yes. Then he glared at Hartley. “Upstairs with you. You’re being locked in for the night. McGuire, you, too. So you can watch him.”

McGuire croaked. “Hartley’s hand. Look at it. It’s green. It was Hartley in the hall—not Smith!”

Hartley stared at his fingers. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said, bitterly. “I was in range of those radiations for a long time at the start of Smith’s illness. I’m going to be a—creature—like Smith. It’s been this way for several days. I kept it hidden. I tried not to say anything. Tonight, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I came back to destroy Smith for what he’s done to me …”

A dry noise racked, dryly, splitting the air. The three of them froze.

Three tiny flakes of Smith’s chrysalis flicked up and then spiraled down to the floor.

Instantly, Rockwell was to the table, and gaping.

“It’s starting to crack. From the collar-bone to the navel, a miscroscopic fissure! He’ll be out of his chrysalis soon!”

McGuire’s jowls trembled. “And then what?”

Hartley’s words were bitter sharp. “We’ll have a superman. Question: what does a superman look like? Answer: nobody knows.”

Another crust of flakes crackled open.

McGuire shivered. “Will you try to talk to him?”

“Certainly.”

“Since when do—butterflies—speak?”

“Oh, Good God, McGuire!”

With the two others securely imprisoned upstairs, Rockwell locked himself into Smith’s room and bedded down on a cot, prepared to wait through the long wet night, watching, listening, thinking.

Watching the tiny flakes flicking off the crumbling skin of chrysalis as the Unknown within struggled quietly outward.

Just a few more hours to wait. The rain slid over the house, pattering.

What would Smith look like? A change in the earcups perhaps for greater hearing; extra eyes, maybe; a change in the skull structure, the facial setup, the bones of the body, the placement of organs, the texture of skin, a million and one changes.

Rockwell grew tired and yet was afraid to sleep. Eyelids heavy, heavy. What if he was wrong? What if his theory was entirely disjointed?

 

What if Smith was only so much moving jelly inside? What if Smith was mad, insane—so different that he’d be a world menace?

No. No. Rockwell shook his head groggily. Smith was perfect.

Perfect. There’d be no room for evil thought in Smith. Perfect.

The sanitarium was death quiet. The only noise was the faint crackle of chrysalis flakes skimming to the hard floor …

Rockwell slept. Sinking into the darkness that blotted out the room as dreams moved in upon him. Dreams in which Smith arose, walked in stiff, parched gesticulations and Hartley, screaming, wielded an ax, shining, again and again into the green armor of the creature and hacked it into liquid horror.

Dreams in which McGuire ran babbling through a rain of blood. Dreams in which—

Hot sunlight. Hot sunlight all over the room. It was morning.

Rockwell rubbed his eyes, vaguely troubled by the fact that someone had raised the blinds. Someone had—he leaped! Sunlight! There was no way for the blinds to be up. They’d been down for weeks! He cried out.

The door was open. The sanitarium was silent. Hardly daring to turn his head, Rockwell glanced at the table. Smith should have been lying there.

He wasn’t.

There was nothing but sunlight on the table. That— and a few remnants of shattered chrysalis. Remnants.

Brittle shards, a discarded profile cleft in two pieces, a shell segment that had been a thigh, a trace of arm, a splint of chest—these were the fractured remains of Smith!

Smith was gone. Rockwell staggered to the table, crushed. Scrabbling like a child among the rattling papyrus of skin. Then he swung about, as if drunk, and swayed out of the room and pounded up the stairs, shouting:

“Hartley! What did you do with him? Hartley! Did you think you could kill him, dispose of his body, and leave a few bits of shell behind to throw me off trail?”

The door to the room where McGuire and Hartley had slept was locked. Fumbling, Rockwell unlocked it. Both McGuire and Hartley were there.

“You’re here,” said Rockwell, dazed. “You weren’t downstairs, then.

Or did you unlock the door, come down, break in, kill Smith and—no, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Smith’s gone! McGuire, did Hartley move out of this room?”

“Not all night.’*

“Then—there’s only one explanation—Smith emerged from his chrysalis and escaped during the night! I’ll never see him, I’ll never get to see him, damn it! What a fool I was to sleep!”

“That settles it!” declared Hartley. “The man’s dangerous or he would have stayed and let us see him! God only knows what he is.”

“We’ve got to search, then. He can’t be far off. We’ve got to search then! Quick now. Hartley. McGuire!”

McGuire sat heavily down. “I won’t budge. Let him find himself. I’ve had enough.”

Rockwell didn’t wait to hear more. He went downstairs with Hartley close after him. McGuire puffed down a few moments later.

Rockwell moved wildly down the hall, halted at the wide windows that overlooked the desert and the mountains with morning shining over them.

He squinted out, and wondered if there was any chance at all of finding Smith. The first superbeing. The first perhaps in a new long line. Rockwell sweated. Smith wouldn’t leave without revealing himself to at least Rockwell.

He couldn’t leave. Or could he?

The kitchen door swung open, slowly.

A foot stepped through the door, followed by another. A hand lifted against the wall. Cigarette smoke moved from pursed lips.

“Somebody looking for me?”

Stunned, Rockwell turned. He saw the expression on Hartley’s face, heard McGuire choke with surprise. The three of them spoke one word together, as if given their cue:

“Smith.”

Smith exhaled cigarette smoke. His face was red-pink as he had been sunburnt, his eyes were glittering blue.

He was barefoot and his nude body was attired in one of Rockwell’s old robes.

“Would you mind telling me where I am? What have I been doing for the last three or four months? Is this a—hospital or isn’t it?”

Dismay slammed Rockwell’s mind, hard. He swallowed.

“Hello. I. That is— Don’t you remember—anything?”

Smith displayed his fingertips. “I recall turning green, if that’s what you mean. Beyond that—nothing.” He raked his pink hand through his nut-brown hair with the vigor of a creature newborn and glad to breathe again.

Rockwell slumped back against the wall. He raised his hands, with shock, to his eyes, and shook his head. Not believing what he saw he said,

“What time did you come out of the chrysalis?’*

“What time did I come out of—what?”

Rockwell took him down the hall to the next room and pointed to the table.

“I don’t see what you mean,” said Smith, frankly sincere. “I found myself standing in this room half an hour ago, stark naked.”

“That’s all?” said McGuire, hopefully. He seemed relieved.

Rockwell explained the origin of the chrysalis on the table.

Smith frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Who are you?”

Rockwell introduced the others.

Smith scowled at Hartley. “When I first was sick you came, didn’t you. I remember. At the radiations plant. But this is silly. What disease was it?”

Hartley’s cheek muscles were taut wire. “No disease. Don’t you know anything about it?”

“I find myself with strange people in a strange sanitarium. I find myself naked in a room with a man sleeping on a cot. I walk around the sanitarium, hungry. I go to the kitchen, find food, eat, hear excited voices, and then am accused of emerging from a chrysalis. What am I supposed to think?

Thanks, by the way, for this robe, for food, and the cigarette I borrowed. I didn’t want to wake you at first, Mr. Rockwell. I didn’t know who you were and you looked dead tired.”

“Oh, that’s all right.’ Rockwell wouldn’t let himself believe it.

Everything was crumbling. With every word Smith spoke, his hopes were pulled apart like the crumpled chrysalis. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Strong. Remarkable, when you consider how long I was under.”

“Very remarkable,” said Hartley.

“You can imagine how I felt when I saw the calendar. All those months—crack—gone. I wondered what I’d been doing all that time.”

“So have we.”

McGuire laughed. “Oh, leave him alone, Hartley. Just because you hated him—”

“Hated?” Smith’s brows went up. “Me? Why?”

“Here. This is why!” Hartley thrust his fingers out “Your damned radiations. Night after night sitting by you in your laboratory. What can I do about it?”

“Hartley,” warned Rockwell. “Sit down. Be quiet.”

“I won’t sit down and I won’t be quiet! Are you both fooled by this imitation of a man, this pink fellow who’s carrying on the greatest hoax in history? If you had any sense you’d destroy Smith before he escapes!”

Rockwell apologized for Hartley’s outburst.

Smith shook his head. “No, let him talk. What’s this about?”

“You know already!” shouted Hartley, angrily. “You’ve lain there for months, listening, planning. You can’t fool me. You’ve got Rockwell bluffed, disappointed. He expected you to be a superman. Maybe you are. But whatever you are, you’re not Smith any more. Not any more. It’s just another of your misdirections. We weren’t supposed to know all about you, and the world shouldn’t know about you. You could kill us, easily, but you’d prefer to stay and convince us that you’re normal. That’s the best way. You could have escaped a few minutes ago, but that would have left the seeds of suspicion behind. Instead, you waited, to convince us that you’re normal.”

“He is normal,” complained McGuire.

“No he’s not. His mind’s different. He’s clever.’*

“Give him word association tests then,” said McGuire.

“He’s too clever for that, too.”

“It’s very simple, then. We take blood tests, listen to his heart, and inject serums into him.”

Smith looked dubious. “I feel like an experiment, but if you really want to. This is silly.”

That shocked Hartley. He looked at Rockwell. “Get the hypos,” he said.

Rockwell got the hypos, thinking. Now, maybe after all, Smith was a superman. His blood. That super-blood. Its ability to kill germs. His heartbeat.

His breathing. Maybe Smith was a superman and didn’t know it. Yes. Yes, maybe—

Rockwell drew blood from Smith and slid it under a microscope. His shoulders sagged. It was normal blood. When you dropped germs into it the germs took a normal length of time to die. The blood was no longer super germicidal. The x-liquid, too, was gone. Rockwell sighed miserably. Smith’s temperature was normal. So was his pulse. His sensory and nervous system responded according to rule.

“Well, that takes care of that,” said Rockwell, softly.

Hartley sank into a chair, eyes widened, holding his head between bony fingers. He exhaled. “I’m sorry. I guess my—mind—it just imagined things. The months were so long. Night after night. I got obsessed, and afraid.

I’ve made a fool out of myself. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stared at his green fingers. “But what about myself?”

Smith said, “I recovered. You’ll recover, too, I guess. I can sympathize with you. But it wasn’t bad … I don’t really recall anything.”

Hartley relaxed. “But—yes I guess you’re right. I don’t like the idea of my body getting hard, but it can’t be helped. I’ll be all right.”

Rockwell was sick. The tremendous letdown was too much for him.

The intense drive, the eagerness, the hunger and curiosity, the fire, had all sunk within him.

So this was the man from the chrysalis? The same man who had gone m. All this waiting and wondering for nothing.

He gulped a breath of air, tried to steady his innermost, racing thoughts. Turmoil. This pink-cheeked, fresh-voiced man who sat before him smoking calmly, was no more than a man who had suffered some partial skin petrification, and whose glands had gone wild from radiation, but, nevertheless, just a man now and nothing more. Rockwell’s mind, his overimaginative, fantastic mind had seized upon each facet of the illness and built it into a perfect organism of wishful thinking. Rockwell was deeply shocked, deeply stirred and disappointed.

The question of Smith’s living without food, his pure blood, low temperature, and the other evidences of superiority were now fragments of a strange illness. An illness and nothing more. Something that was over, down and gone and left nothing behind but brittle scraps on a sunlit tabletop.

There’d be a chance to watch Hartley now, if his illness progressed, and report the new sickness to the medical world.

But Rockwell didn’t care about illness. He cared about perfection.

And that perfection had been split and ripped and torn and it was gone. His dream^ was gone. His supercreature was gone. He didn’t care if the whole world went hard, green, brittle-mad now.

Smith was shaking hands all around. “I’d better get back to Los Angeles. Important work for me to do at the plant. I have my old job waiting for me. Sorry I can’t stay on. You understand.”

“You should stay on and rest a few days, at least,” said Rockwell. He hated to see the last wisp of his dream vanish.

“No thanks. I’ll drop by your office in a week or so for another checkup, though. Doctor, if you like? I’ll drop in every few weeks for the next year or so so you can check me, yes?”

“Yes. Yes,’smith. Do that, will you please? I’d like to talk your illness over with you. You’re lucky to be alive.”

McGuire said, happily, “I’ll drive you to L.A.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll walk to Tujunga and get a cab. I want to walk. It’s been so long, I want to see what it feels like.”

Rockwell lent him an old pair of shoes and an old suit of clothes.

“Thanks, Doctor. I’ll pay you what I owe you as soon as possible.”

“You don’t owe me a penny. It was interesting.”

“Well, good-bye, Doctor. Mr. McGuire. Hartley.”

“Good-bye, Smith.”

“Good-bye.”

Smith walked down the path to the dry wash, which was already baked dry by the late afternoon sun. He walked easily and happily and whistled. I wish I could whistle now, thought Rockwell tiredly.

Smith turned once, waved to them, and then he strode up the hillside and went on over it toward the distant city.

Rockwell watched him go as a small child watches his favorite sand castle eroded and annihilated by the waves of the sea. “I can’t believe it,” he said, over and over again. “I can’t believe it. The whole thing’s ending so soon, so abruptly for me. I’m dull and empty inside.”

“Everything looks rosy to me!” chuckled McGuire happily.

 

Hartley stood in the sun. His green hands hung softly at his side and his white face was really relaxed for the first time in months, Rockwell realized. Hartley said, softly,

“I’ll come out all right. I’ll come out all right. Oh, thank God for that.

Thank God for that. I won’t be a monster. I won’t be anything but myself.” He turned to Rockwell. “Just remember, remember, don’t let them bury me by mistake. Don’t let them bury me by mistake, thinking I’m dead. Remember that.”

Smith took the path across the dry wash and up the hill. It was late afternoon already and the sun had started to vanish behind blue hills. A few stars were visible. The odor of water, dust, and distant orange blossoms hung in the warm air.

Wind stirred. Smith took deep breaths of air. He walked.

Out of sight, away from the sanitarium, he paused and stood very still. He looked up at the sky.

Tossing away the cigarette he’d been smoking, he mashed it precisely under one heel. Then he straightened his well-shaped body, tossed his brown hair back, closed his eyes, swallowed, and relaxed his fingers at his sides.

With nothing of effort, just a little murmur of sound, Smith lifted his body gently from the ground into the warm air.

He soared up quickly, quietly—and- very soon he was lost among the stars as Smith headed for outer space …

The End

Conclusion

When you all tell me your stories, about how you have changed since arriving at MM… well, this is always what comes to mind.

And this is only the beginning.

Who knows what greatness lies in the futures ahead of you?

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Ray Bradbury Index here…

Ray Bradbury

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Movie Review of What Dreams May Come as it pertains to the Alien Interview and Heaven

Based on a story by Richard Matheson, What Dreams May Come is a surrealist tale of the afterlife. While there are numerous things in the movie that are visually appealing, and a compelling story line, the movie itself depicts some critical aspects of the “afterlife” and Heaven incorrectly.

Yet, it has some VERY IMPORTANT messages for MM readers.

What Dreams May Come would have to be one of the most intelligent, emotional, visually beautiful, and well acted projects ever to grace the screen. And when you add in the story-line that includes rescuing a loved one who is suffering from amnesia and needs to be rescued, you can see the value of the movie content.

Especially in light of the content of “Alien Interview”.

Aside from the faulty story-line, and the inaccuracies of the depiction of Heaven, I would like to use it to help depict what the non-physical reality resembles for a disincarnate entity that returns to it. And at that, this is the purpose of this article. It is to use already available imagery to describe the non-physical world(s) for purpose of education and understanding.

Brief Movie Summary

While vacationing in Switzerland, physician Chris Nielsen (Robin Williams) meets artist Annie Collins (Annabella Sciorra). They are instantly attracted to each other, and bond as if they had known each other for a long time. They marry and have two children: Ian (Josh Paddock) and Marie (Jessica Brooks Grant). Their idyllic life comes to an end when the children die in a car crash. Life becomes very difficult: Annie suffers a mental breakdown, and the strains on their marriage threaten to lead to divorce, but they manage to struggle through their losses.

On the anniversary of the day they decided not to divorce, Chris is killed in a car accident. Unaware that he is dead and confused when nobody can interact with him, Chris lingers on Earth. He watches Annie’s attempts to cope with the loss and he attempts to communicate with her, despite advice from a spirit-like presence that it will only cause her pain. When his attempts only leave her more distraught, he decides to move on.

Chris awakens in Heaven, and finds that his immediate surroundings are controlled by his imagination. He meets a man (Cuba Gooding Jr.) whom Chris seems to recognize as Albert, his friend and mentor from his medical residency, and the spirit-like presence from his time as a “ghost” on Earth.

Albert will be his guide in this new life.

Albert teaches Chris about his new existence in Heaven, and how to shape his little corner of it and to travel to others’ “dreams”. They are surprised when a Blue Jacaranda tree appears unbidden in Chris’ surroundings, matching a tree in a new painting by Annie, which was inspired by Annie’s belief that she can communicate with Chris in the afterlife. Albert explains to Chris that this is a sign that the couple are truly soul mates.

However, Annie is overcome with despair and decides that Chris cannot, in fact, “see” the painting and destroys the piece. Chris sees his version of the tree disintegrate before his eyes which coincides with the painting being destroyed in the real world.

What dreams may come.

Chris laments he will not see his wife and encounters an Asian woman with the name tag “Leona”, whom he comes to recognize as his daughter Marie, living in an area shaped like a diorama she loved in life. The two share a tearful reunion.

Meanwhile on Earth, Annie is unable to cope with the loss of her husband. She then decides to commit suicide. Chris, who is initially relieved that her suffering is over, quickly becomes angry when he learns that those who commit suicide are sent to Hell; this is not the result of any judgment made against them, but that it is their nature to create “nightmare” afterlife worlds based on their pain.

Chris is adamant that he will rescue Annie from Hell, despite Albert’s insistence that no one has ever succeeded in doing so. Albert agrees to find Chris a “tracker” (who takes the form of Sigmund Freud) to help find Annie’s soul.

On the journey to Hell, Chris finds himself recalling his son, Ian. Remembering how he’d called him the one man he’d want at his side to brave Hell, Chris realizes Albert is Ian.

Ian explains that he chose Albert’s appearance because he knew that Chris would listen to Albert without reservation. Before they part ways, Ian begs Chris to remember how he saved his marriage following Ian and Marie’s deaths. Chris then journeys onward with the tracker.

After traversing a field containing the faces of the damned, they come to a dark and twisted replica of Chris and Annie’s house. The tracker then reveals himself as the real Albert, and warns Chris that if he stays with Annie for more than a few minutes he may become permanently trapped in Hell. All that Chris can reasonably expect is a chance to say a final farewell to Annie.

Chris enters the house to find Annie suffering from amnesia, unable even to remember her suicide and tortured by her decrepit surroundings. Unable to stir her memories, he “gives up”, but not the way the Tracker hoped he would; he chooses to join Annie forever in Hell.

As he announces his intent to stay to Annie, his words parallel something he had said to her when he left her in an institution following their children’s deaths, and she regains her memories even as Chris is succumbing to her nightmare.

Annie, wanting nothing more at that moment than to save Chris, ascends to Heaven, bringing Chris with her.

Chris and Annie are reunited with their children in Heaven, whose original appearances are restored. Chris proposes reincarnation, so that he and Annie can experience life together all over again. The film ends with Chris and Annie meeting again as young children in a situation roughly parallel to their first meeting.

What Dreams May Come

Initial Reactions upon “arrival”

In the movie, he wakes up and doesn’t have any bearings. He doesn’t know what is going on, and is disoriented. Yet shortly afterwards, a companion and a beloved pet help him find his way.

In “real life”, this only occurs for the youngest consciousnesses.

Most entities pretty much realize what is going on rather rapidly. They realize that they are out of their physical body, and that things are different, and that they can hear things and understand things with a clarity that they did not have before.

Typically, those who have gone through many reincarnations (over and over again) know exactly what is going on and then immediate move outward and away from where the physical body may lie. Those really (inexperienced) consciousnesses get confused and disoriented, but they immediate see friends, family and associations that come to them and help them during this crisis.

What Dreams May Come

So you need not worry. It is extraordinarily rare to be surprised once you stop cycling in and out of world-lines. You just stay on the Exit Template and hang out as a disincarnate spirit for a while.

Depiction of Heaven

It’s such an arty movie. The colors are great, the CGI is wonderful. The backgrounds and backdrops are immense and profound. All of which is true in the non-physical reality.

What Dreams May Come

And true to form, there’s all sort of things going on that our physical senses are unable to discern. Everything from strange beings, to odd constructions and enormous (apparently man made) constructions. There’s all kinds of “stuff” in the non-physical reality that surrounds our physical reality.

Lack of a Life Review

One of the most disturbing things to me, about the movie is the lack of a “Life Review”. This is the most common event that disincarnate beings experience. And according to Dr. Newton, it occurs after the people enter the “tunnel of light”.

What Dreams May Come

This is a fundamental aspect of the reincarnation process. You are born, live a life, obtain experiences, have a life review and then are re-injected back in the reincarnation process.

A Trapped Soul

Trapped by amnesia.

What an interesting story plot. You go to Purgatory to prevent someone from staying in Hell. They have no memory. So therefore they are helpless and being ignorant have no idea how to escape the Hell that they exist within.

But isn’t that what all of us are, at least according to the Tpe-1 extraterrestrial in Alien Interview?

What Dreams May Come

Trapped on a never-ending cycle of endless reincarnations.

Pets and loved ones

Our loved ones are easy to track down. We, however, often need some help. As they often are in special locations (Heavens?) that require assistance to visit.

Of course you can meet up with beloved pets in Heaven. There’s just a simple process that you must go through. That’s all.

Never fear!

The good things you do now, and the good relationships that you build will never leave. Instead they will persist and be supportive of your journey in the non-physical worlds.

The decision to return to Earth together

I have covered this process on selection of the pre-birth world-line template and mapping out the life prior to reinsertion. Certainly there is a major review process involved, as well as particular elements of schooling. Dr. Newton has also covered this subject extensively.

Just because it wasn’t explored in great detail in the movie, does not mean that it is a minor decision. It’s a very involved process.

The most important lesson

All of this is fine and nice. But the real situation is that once you leave your body as a disincarnate consciousness, you are still attached to the MWI. You are really not in “Heaven”.

You are still running the world-line templates.

You still experience time.

Only now, stuck in the “wave” form. You are not in a physical form, and thus cannot alter the physical world around you.

Exit Template

So while you will see all sorts of things that you might have been unaware of when you were in the physical, you are really not in “Heaven”. Instead, you are still stuck on your “exit template”.

Exit Template
This is the MWI topographical map that your consciousness was on and following at the time of your death.

While…

A Pre-Birth World-line Template
Is the world-line template that was arranged for you (and by you) to obtain life experiences when you are first born.

For most people, the “Exit Template” will be the same as the “Pre-Birth World-Line Template”. For MM participants that practice affirmation prayer campaigns, and who have experienced “slides”, the templates will typically differ.

Slide
The movement from one template map on the MWI to another.

So what ever trajectory your consciousness was engaged upon at the time of your death, you continue it without reinsertion to the physical body. And all that “stuff” all around you is just what what you would be seeing if you were in the physical.

Now…

You, of course, are free to explore all over the non-physical worlds. But only around your world-lines as defined by your template.

You need to exist the Physical Earth Reality. (Both the non-physical and the physical) That will take you out and away and able to enter “Heaven”. And this bridge is known as the tunnel of light.

Uh Oh!

That’s right!

Alien Interview

This is what the type-1 grey extraterrestrial had to say…

Eventually The Domain discovered that a wide area of space is monitored by an "electronic force field" which controls all of the IS-BEs in this end of the galaxy, including Earth.  

The electronic force screen is designed to detect IS-BEs and prevent them from leaving the area.

If any IS-BE attempts to penetrate the force screen, it "captures" them in a kind of "electronic net".  

The result is that the captured IS-BE is subjected to a very severe "brainwashing" treatment which erases the memory of the IS-BE. 

This process uses a tremendous electrical shock, just like Earth psychiatrists use "electric shock therapy" to erase the memory and personality of a "patient" and to make them more "cooperative".

On Earth this "therapy" uses only a few hundred volts of electricity.    However, the electrical voltage used by the "Old Empire" operation against IS-BEs is on the order of magnitude of billions of volts!  This tremendous shock completely wipes out all the memory of the IS- BE. 

The memory erasure is not just for one life or one body.  It wipes out all of the accumulated experiences of a nearly infinite past, as well as the identity of the IS-BE!

The shock is intended to make it impossible for the IS-BE to remember who they are, where they came from, their knowledge or skills, their memory of the past, and ability to function as a spiritual entity.  

They are overwhelmed into becoming a mindless, robotic non-entity.

After the shock a series of post hypnotic suggestions are used to install false memories, and a false time orientation in each IS-BE.

This includes the command to "return" to the base after the body dies, so that the same kind of shock and hypnosis can be done again, and again, again -- forever. 

The hypnotic command also tells the "patient" to forget to remember.

What The Domain learned from the experience of this officer is that the "Old Empire" has been using Earth as a "prison planet" for a very long time -- exactly how long is unknown -- perhaps millions of years.

And this the the critical part…

So, when the body of the IS-BE dies they depart from the body. 

They are detected by the "force screen".

They are captured.

They are "ordered" by hypnotic command to "return to the light".  

So thus you have this issue. How do you get off from the Exit Template as a disincarnate entity, yet still avoid the “Old Empire” traps?

Evasion and Escape

The Type-1 grey extraterrestrial continued on…

The idea of "heaven" and the "afterlife" are part of the hypnotic suggestion -- a part of the treachery that makes the whole mechanism work. 

So, the idea of a “Heaven” and a life in Heaven is part of this entire illusion.

To me what this sounds like is that (he / she / it) is saying that being a disincarnate entity does not NEED to enter a tunnel of light to proceed any further. That, the access to other “places” in the non-physical worlds is obtainable without entry to Heaven.

But…

So, when the body of the IS-BE dies they depart from the body. 

They are detected by the "force screen".

They are captured.

They are "ordered" by hypnotic command to "return to the light". 

We, as consciousness, must figure out a way to avoid the “electronic force screen, get captured and go into the light for memory erasure and reprogramming.

Mind Blown!

Now, long time readers to MM will recognize this next  little graphic. I used it in describing how consciousness enters the MWI from Heaven…

Remember this?

The consciousness is connected to the soul by a device. This device is known as consciousness.
Consciousness is the passageway or “tunnel” that connects the physical reality to the soul.

Here, I stated that the MWI was a bubble inside of a bigger universe known as Heaven.

And that the Soul resided inside of Heaven.

And thus our consciousness creates a path resembling a tunnel to get back to our Soul within Heaven.

But I no longer believe this.

I actually believe the Type-1 grey extraterrestrial that was interviewed in “Alien Interview”.

Reincarnation

Also from an earlier MM post.

If you look at this, it seems clear that the common denominator is that…

…going to Heaven always starts the injection process into a physical body as part of the reincarnation process.

The reincarnation process and procedure.

The extraterrestrial reports…

After the IS-BE has been shocked and hypnotized to erase the memory of the life just lived,  the IS-BE is immediately "commanded", hypnotically, to "report" back to Earth, as though they were on a secret mission, to inhabit a new body.  

Each IS-BE is told that they have a special purpose for being on Earth.

But, of course there is no purpose for being in a prison -- at least not for the prisoner.

Animal Heaven

As far as I am aware of pets, and animals do not enter a “tunnel of light” to go to their respective Heavens. And they do retain all their memories and other experiences when they reincarnate. This is true for dogs, for cat and for horses.

  • Animals do not enter a tunnel of light and retain their memories and self.
  • Humans enter a tunnel of light and lose their memories and get re-injected fresh with no prior knowledge.

The only exceptions seem to be young men, who were killed and then reinserted to the MWI quickly without further processing. They remember their prior life but not the earlier ones.

Failure to go to Heaven

Let’s look at what happens when the consciousness fails to go back to Heaven.

This is what happens…

So the immediate effect is that you stick to your Exit Template.

The Guardian Angel / Mantid

I can tell you that you DO NOT NEED to enter the “Tunnel of Light” to meet your “Guardian Angel” (otherwise known as a Mantid). You can take an injection of DMA for a brief but immediate consultation. And because of this fact, it seems quite clear that they are associated with you within this MWI.

What are they?

Catholic religion say that they are sent from Heaven. And that they dwell in Heaven.

It also says that there were good Angels and Bad Angels.

And the Bad Angels were banished to Hell. While the Good Angels stayed in Heaven.

I really do not know how helpful this Intel is.

One thing is for certain, there is no reason at all why you cannot meet your “Guardian Angel” or Mantid upon you death from the Exit Template. Though, I do not know if that is a good or a bad thing.

I can tell you that in my dealings with them, I never left the Reality Universe, and entered “Heaven”.

At least not that I was aware of. As far as I recall, all my dealings has been on the strange worlds that surround our Reality Universe in the non-physical realms.

Therefore, you MUST conclude that you do not NEED to enter the “tunnel of light” to meet with Angels.

Rabbit Hole

I just had a podcast today where I discussed Rabbit Holes. The idea is that once we get on a “binge” chasing after something, we often lose our way. We get caught up in the what it’s, and elaborations, and create extensive background stories to figure everything out.

Such was the case with Y2k, Mad Cow, and Exploding cell phones near gas pumps.

Today it is 5G radiation, Draco Reptilians, and Vaxx mind control.

And we just don’t want to go down that “Rabbit Hole” in regards to what happens once you enter the “Tunnel of Light”. Which is the great works that Dr. Newton has explored. Instead, we must dwell on the scant references that are based on what happens if YOU DON’T enter the “tunnel of light”.

Remember

Escape is possible.

The net result is that an IS-BE is unable to escape because they can't remember who they are, where they came from, where they are. They have been hypnotized to think they are someone, something, sometime, and somewhere other than where they really are. 

The Domain officer who was "assassinated" while in the body of Archduke of Austria was, likewise, captured by the "Old Empire" force. Because this particular officer was a high powered IS-BE, compared to most, he was taken away to a secret "Old Empire" base under the surface of the planet Mars. 

They put him into a special electronic prison cell and held him there.

Fortunately, this Domain officer was able to escape from the underground base after 27 years in captivity.  

When he escaped from the "Old Empire" base, he returned immediately to his own base in the asteroid belt.  

His commanding officer ordered that a battle cruiser be dispatched to the coordinates of the base provided by this officer and to destroy that base completely.

This "Old Empire" base was located a few hundred miles north of the equator on Mars in the Cydonia region.

What to watch out for

Consider this warning…

The most basic method to capture and immobilize an IS-BE is through the use of various kinds of "traps". 

IS-BE traps have been made and put in place by many invading societies, such as the one that established the "Old Empire", beginning about sixty-four trillion years ago. 

Traps are often set up in the "territory" of the IS-BEs being attacked.

Usually a trap is set with the electronic wave of "beauty" to attract the interest and attention of the IS-BE. When the IS-BE moves toward the source of the aesthetic wave, such as a beautiful building or beautiful music, the trap is activated by the energy put out by the IS-BE.

One of the most common trap mechanism uses the IS-BE's own thought energy output when the IS- BE tries to attack or fight back against the trap.

The trap is activated and energized by the IS-BE's own thought energy.

The harder the IS-BE fights against the trap, the more it pulls the IBS toward it and keeps them "stuck" in the trap.

Sounds ingenious and difficult.

Conclusion

There is a lot of speculation and misinformation concerning Heaven and the non-physical reality. Most humans do not want to die, have amnesia, and then return to start all over again in a new life.

Fuck that!

If The Domain sent ships to every corner of the universe in search of "Hell", their quest could end on Earth. What greater brutality can be inflicted on anyone than to erase the spiritual awareness, identity,  ability, and memory that is the essence of oneself?

But looking at what we do know, and then extrapolating from reliable sources a picture emerges of what happens and how we can handle ourselves upon death.

We emerge from the Exit Template upon death and stay there in the non-physical reality until we enter the “tunnel of light”. Then, all indications are that what happens is exactly as described by the Type-1 extraterrestrial in “Alien Interview”, and we are recycled back to live yet another life all over again.

The Doctor Newton writings, as great as they are, approach this situation as normal. That this is just the way it is, and that there are no other options.

The Type-1 grey extraterrestrial says otherwise.

The question now becomes [1] How do we avoid the “tunnel of light”, [2] Avoid and evade the electronic “force field” that exists around this physical region, and [3] go “elsewhere” and stop the entire cycle of death and rebirth.

Stay tuned. I do have answers!

And they employ the Type-1 greys, and (possibly) your “Guardian Angel” the Mantid assigned to you.

Although the military base of the "Old Empire" was destroyed, unfortunately, much of the vast machinery of the IS-BE force screens, the electroshock / amnesia / hypnosis machinery continues to function in other undiscovered locations right up to the present moment.  The main base or control center for this "mind control prison" operation has never been found. So, the influences of this base, or bases, are still in effect.

And to this end, they seem receptive to assist…

The members of the lost Battalion and many other IS-BEs on Earth, could be valuable citizens of The Domain...

Unfortunately, there has been no workable method conceived to emancipate the IS-BEs from Earth.

... until such time as the proper resources can be allocated to locate and destroy the "Old Empire" force screen and amnesia machinery and develop a therapy to restore the memory of an IS-BE."

I do believe that now is that time.

Do you want more?

I have more posts like this one in my Heaven Index here…

Heaven

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I also have many more posts like this one in my Movie Index here…

MOVIES

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Articles & Links

Master Index

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You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
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Movie Review of cannibal women in the avocado jungle of death

Col Mattel: "Avocados are vital to this nation's security interests. With the communists already in control of Nicaragua and Guatemala and El Salvador strife with revolution California is the last secure supply of Avocados in the free world. We're on the verge of a major Avocado gap!" 

Introduction

Life is often too serious. So, perhaps the best solution is to relax, and look at something silly. And there is perhaps nothing sillier than what Hollywood produces these days. And so, let’s look at one of the “crown jewels” of Hollywood.

Better than reading American “news”.

The Characters

  • Dr. Margo Hunt – Shannon Tweed! Professor of Feminist Studies.
  • Bunny – Every liberated woman’s nightmare, but she wants to be a feminist. This girl has more outfits than you can shake a stick at.
  • Jim – Bill Maher! Inept guide who once had a one night stand with Margo.
  • Dr. Kurtz – Another feminist, author of “Smart Women, Stupid Insensitive Men.” Throws herself into a pool of Piranhas in the end.
  • Colonel Mattel – Head of the National Security Commission on Avocado Affairs. He has one eye.
  • Piranha Women – Savage feminists who believe men should be killed and eaten with guacamolle dip.
  • Barracuda Women – Savage feminists who believe men should be killed and eaten with clam dip.
The plot is straight out of California.

The Plot

Talk about strange and wonderous things!

This film is full of camp, not only is southern California transformed into wild avocado jungle but it is inhabited by man eating feminists! Shannon Tweed, whose breasts have starred in numerous films, is a teacher of women’s studies!

Then of course there is Bunny, this girl is every teenage guy’s dream and every feminists nightmare – but she wants to be a progressive woman.

There are plenty of little gags here and there, most of them involving Maher and Bunny being boneheads.

Dr. Hunt is recruited by the U.S. Government to make liaison with the Pirahna Women and hires Jim as her guide.

After encountering vicious hippos, catfish, and Donnahews (men who knit and cook) the explorers discover the Pirahna women are led by a savage ex-feminist and poised to wage war!

Bunny nearly joins the cannibals but is unable to complete the initiation rite, which involves her making love to then consuming Jim.

Everything works out in the end though, Kurtz is slain, Jim and Bunny marry, and Dr. Hunt returns to her college.

A fun film with plenty of women running around in leather loincloths and tops.

Bunny: "Well, sometimes when I'm with a guy I wish that he would tie me up with red licorice ropes and then spank me...and then he'd eat the ropes... and then he'd free me...and then we'd make love while the philharmonic played 'Bolero.'" 

Things I learned…

  • Most of southern California is virgin jungle.
  • Girls just want to tear men into strips and eat them with gaucamolle dip.
  • An hour and a half of feminine nonsense punctuated with half-nude women is tolerable.
  • Bill Maher is the last real man but he looks fairly effeminate in a white neck kerchief.
  • There are leopards living wild in California.
  • Lost female tribes speak French.
  • If given a choice between Bill Maher or Shannon Tweed in their underwear I would pick the latter.
  • Bunny has a damn lot of clothes, what is up with this girl?
Goodness!

Stuff to watch out for

  • 3 mins – RANDOM GRATUITOUS BREAST SHOT!
  • 4 mins – Pretty pale skin for living in a jungle her whole life.
  • 14 mins – Now this is a shirt.
  • 18 mins – That’s a pretty small barrel for a .44 Magnum, maybe it’s a 44 Magnum divided by 2?
  • 19 mins – Bunny in one of many outfits, where she keeps them nobody knows.
  • 38 mins – Mallards in a tropical rain forest?
  • 46 mins – Just conjuring up cases of beer huh? But why Old Milwaukee? Ugh.
  • 75 mins – The compound must be right on the international date line, one side is day the other night.
Jim: "Okay, let's see...so she's going to make love to me, that's, that's good - but she's going to kill me and eat me, that's bad." 

Movie Clip..

Ugh. If there is ever a moment to capture, it is Bill Maher accusing Shannon Tweed of being a cannibal feminist. He makes a convincing argument. 

Do you want more?

Are you sure?

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MOVIES

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Articles & Links

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You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
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The Past Through Tomorrow (full text) by Robert A Heinlein (free)

Heinlein almost never showed up in anthologies. Sometimes editors would apologize for omitting him, admitting (with some frustration) that they just couldn’t get the rights to the Heinlein tales they wanted. The problem was that by the mid-70s Heinlein was a star, the top-selling author in the field, and his entire short fiction catalog was locked up in his own bestselling collections.

I read collections, of course. Lots of them. But the seminal Heinlein collection, the one containing virtually all of his really important short work — including classics like “The Roads Must Roll,” “Blowups Happen,” “The Man Who Sold the Moon,” “Gentlemen, Be Seated,” “The Green Hills of Earth,” “Logic of Empire,” “The Menace from Earth,” “If This Goes On —”, and the short novel Methuselah’s Children — was the massive The Past Through Tomorrow.

I picked up on The Past Through Tomorrow recently, and I was impressed all over again at just how many true SF classics are packed within its pages. I can almost forgive its length, given that it contains 21 stories, three novellas (“The Man Who Sold the Moon,” “Logic of Empire,” and “Coventry”) and a complete novel, Methuselah’s Children. The stories within were published across four decades, from 1939 to 1962, first in John W. Campbell’s Astounding and later in places like Argosy, Blue Book, The Saturday Evening Post, and Scientific American.

Here’s the complete Table of Contents.

Introduction by Damon Knight
“Life-Line” (Astounding Science-Fiction, August 1939)
“The Roads Must Roll” (Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1940)
“Blowups Happen” (Astounding Science-Fiction, September 1940)
“The Man Who Sold the Moon” (The Man Who Sold the Moon, 1950)
“Delilah and the Space-Rigger” (The Blue Book Magazine, December 1949)
“Space Jockey” (The Saturday Evening Post, April 26, 1947)
“Requiem” (Astounding Science-Fiction, January 1940)
“The Long Watch” (The American Legion Magazine, December 1949)
“Gentlemen, Be Seated” (Argosy Magazine, May 1948)
“The Black Pits of Luna” (The Saturday Evening Post, January 10, 1948)
“It’s Great to Be Back!” (The Saturday Evening Post, July 26, 1947)
“—We Also Walk Dogs” (Astounding Science-Fiction, July 1941)
“Searchlight” (Scientific American, August 1962)
“Ordeal in Space” (Town & Country, May 1948)
“The Green Hills of Earth” (The Saturday Evening Post, February 8, 1947)
“Logic of Empire” (Astounding Science-Fiction, March 1941)
“The Menace from Earth” (Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1957)
“If This Goes On —” (Astounding Science-Fiction, February 1940)
“Coventry” (Astounding Science-Fiction, July 1940)
“Misfit” (Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1939)
Methuselah’s Children (Astounding Science-Fiction, July-August 1941)

Robert A. Heinlein was one of Campbell’s most famous discoveries, and certainly the one that Campbell was most proud of. Alec Nevala-Lee, when discussing his groundbreaking non-fiction book Astounding: John W. Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction, said, “Heinlein was the author Campbell was waiting for,” and I think that’s precisely right. Heinlein’s first published story was “Life-Line” in the August 1939 issue of Astounding; more rapidly followed and within a year Campbell was lauding Heinlein in his editorials as “a major science fiction writer.”

The Past Through Tomorrow was published in hardcover by Putnam in 1967, and reprinted in paperback by Berkley Medallion in 1975. The paperback version is 830 pages, priced at $1.50. The cover artist is uncredited.

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The Exiles by Ray Bradbury (Full text)

This is a nice story by Ray Bradbury.

Summary

The story begins with a scene the three witches from Macbeth brewing a potion and staring into a crystal, which reveals another scene that takes place on a rocket ship. Originating from Earth, the men on the rocket ship are panicking because they have recently experienced nightmares, confusing illnesses, and unexpected death. They are destined for Mars, and they are worried that these events may be warnings from Martians not to arrive.

As the crewmembers talk, it becomes clear that the Earth they are leaving has banned many books, some of which are considered some of the best authors of all time. The rocket ship has the last edition of many of these works, and their goal is to burn the books upon their arrival at Mars. Once they have burned the books, there will be no remaining evidence that these authors ever existed...

The Exiles

THEIR EYES were fire and the breath flamed out the witches’ mouths as they bent to probe the caldron with greasy stick and bony finger.
‘When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?’
They danced drunkenly on the shore of an empty sea, fouling the air with their
three tongues, and burning it with their cats’ eyes malevolently aglitter:

‘Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!’

They paused and cast a glance about. ‘Where’s the crystal? Where the needles?’
‘Here!’
‘Good!’
‘Is the yellow wax thickened?’
‘Yes!’
‘Pour it in the iron mold!’
‘Is the wax figure done?’ They shaped it like molasses adrip on their green
hands.
‘Shove the needle through the heart!’
‘The crystal, the crystal; fetch it from the tarot bag. Dust it off; have a
look!’
They bent to the crystal, their faces white.
‘See, see, see . . .’

A rocket ship moved through space from the planet Earth to the planet Mars. On
the rocket ship men were dying.
The captain raised his head, tiredly. ‘We’ll have to use the morphine.’
‘But, Captain”
‘You see yourself this man’s condition.’ The captain lifted the wool blanket and
the man restrained beneath the wet sheet moved and groaned. The air was full of
sulphurous thunder.
‘I saw it’I saw it.’ The man opened his eyes and stared at the port where there
were only black spaces, reeling stars, Earth far removed, and the planet Mars
rising large and red. ‘I saw it’a bat, a huge thing, a bat with a man’s face,
spread over the front port. Fluttering and fluttering, fluttering and
fluttering.’
‘Pulse?’ asked the captain.
The orderly measured it. ‘One hundred and thirty.’
‘He can’t go on with that. Use the morphine. Come along, Smith.’
They moved away. Suddenly the floor plates were laced with bone and white skulls that screamed. The captain did not dare look down, and over the screaming he said, ‘Is this where Perse is?’ turning in at a hatch.
A white-smocked surgeon stepped away from a body. ‘I just don’t understand it.’
‘How did Perse die?’
‘We don’t know, Captain. It wasn’t his heart, his brain, or shock. He just’ died.’
The captain felt the doctor’s wrist, which changed to a hissing snake and bit
him. The captain did not flinch. ‘Take care of yourself. You’ve a pulse too.’
The doctor nodded. ‘Perse complained of pains’needles, he said’ in his wrists and
legs. Said he felt like wax, melting. He fell. I helped him up. He cried like a
child. Said he had a silver needle in his heart. He died. Here he is. We can
repeat the autopsy for you. Everything’s physically normal.’
‘That’s impossible! He died of something!’
The captain walked to a port. He smelled of menthol and iodine and green soap on his polished and manicured hands. His white teeth were dentifriced, and his ears scoured to a pinkness, as were his cheeks. His uniform was the color of new
salt, and his boots were black mirrors shining below him. His crisp crew-cut
hair smelled of sharp alcohol. Even his breath was sharp and new and clean.
There was no spot to him. He was a fresh instrument, honed and ready, still hot
from the surgeon’s oven.
The men with him were from the same mold. One expected huge brass keys spiraling
slowly from their backs. They were expensive, talented, well-oiled toys,
obedient and quick.
The captain watched the planet Mars grow very large in space. ‘We’ll be landing
in an hour on that damned place. Smith, did you see any bats, or have other
nightmares?’
‘Yes, sir. The month before our rocket took off from New York, sir. White rats
biting my neck, drinking my blood. I didn’t tell. I was afraid you wouldn’t let me come on this trip.’
‘Never mind,’ sighed the captain. ‘I had dreams too. In all of my fifty years I
never had a dream until that week before we took off from Earth. And then every night I dreamed I was a white wolf. Caught on a snowy hill. Shot with a silver bullet. Buried with a stake in my heart.’ He moved his head toward Mars. ‘Do you think, Smith, they know we’re coming?’
‘We don’t know if there are Martian people, sir.’
‘Don’t we? They began frightening us off eight weeks ago, before we started.
They’ve killed Perse and Reynolds now. Yesterday they made Crenville go blind.
How? I don’t know. Bats, needles, dreams, men dying for no reason. I’d call it
witchcraft in another day. But this is the year 2120, Smith. We’re rational men.
This all can’t be happening. But it is! Whoever they are, with their needles and
their bats, they’ll try to finish us all.’ He swung about. ‘Smith, fetch those books from my file. I want them when we land.’
Two hundred books were piled on the rocket deck.
‘Thank you, Smith. Have you glanced at them? Think I’m insane? Perhaps. It’s a
crazy hunch. At that last moment I ordered these books from the Historical
Museum. Because of my dreams. Twenty nights I was stabbed, butchered, a
screaming bat pinned to a surgical mat, a thing rotting underground in a black
box; bad, wicked dreams. Our whole crew dreamed of witch-things and were-things, vampires and phantoms, things they couldn’t know anything about. Why? Because books on such ghastly subjects were destroyed a century ago. By law. Forbidden for anyone to own the grisly volumes. These books you see here are the last copies, kept for historical purposes in the locked museum vaults.’
Smith bent to read the dusty titles:
‘Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allan Poe. Dracula, by Brain Stoker.
Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley. The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving. Rappaccini’s Daughter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, by Ambrose Bierce. Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. The Willows, by Algernon Blackwood. The Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum. The Weird Shadow Over Innsmouth, by H. P. Lovecraft. And more! Books by Walter de la Mare, Wakefield, Harvey, Wells, Asquith, Huxley’all forbidden authors. All burned in the same year that Halloween was outlawed and Christmas was banned! But, sir, what good are these to us on the rocket?’
‘I don’t know,’ sighed the captain, ‘yet.’

 

The three bags lifted the crystal where the captain’s image flickered, his tiny
voice tinkling out of the glass:
‘I don’t know,’ sighed the captain, ‘yet.’
The three witches glared redly into one another’s faces.
‘We haven’t much time,’ said one.
‘Better warn Them in the City.’
‘They’ll want to know about the books. It doesn’t look good. That fool of a
captain!’
‘In an hour they’ll land their rocket.’
The three bags shuddered and blinked up at the Emerald City by the edge of the
dry Martian sea.

 

In its highest window a small man held a blood-red drape aside.
He watched the wastelands where the three witches fed their caldron and shaped the waxes. Farther along, ten thousand other blue fires and laurel incenses, black tobacco smokes and fir weeds, cinnamons and bone dusts rose soft as moths through the Martian night. The man counted the angry, magical fires. Then, as the three witches stared, he turned. The crimson drape, released, fell, causing the distant portal to wink, like a yellow eye.
Mr. Edgar Allan Poe stood in the tower window, a faint vapor of spirits upon his
breath. ‘Hecate’s friends are busy tonight,’ he said, seeing the witches, far
below.
A voice behind him said, ‘I saw Will Shakespeare at the shore, earlier, whipping
them on. All along the sea Shakespeare’s army alone, tonight, numbers thousands: the three witches, Oberon, Hamlet’s father, Puck’all, all of them’thousands!
Good lord, a regular sea of people.’
‘Good William.’ Poe turned. He let the crimson drape fall shut. He stood for a
moment to observe the raw stone room, the black-timbered table, the candle
flame, the other man, Mr. Ambrose Bierce, sitting very idly there, lighting
matches and watching them burn down, whistling under his breath, now and then laughing to himself.
‘We’ll have to tell Mr. Dickens now,’ said Mr. Poe. ‘We’ve put it off too long.
It’s a matter of hours. Will you go down to his home with me, Bierce?’
Bierce glanced up merrily. ‘I’ve just been thinking’what’ll happen to us?’
‘If we can’t kill the rocket men off, frighten them away, then we’ll have to
leave, of course. We’ll go on to Jupiter, and when they come to Jupiter, we’ll
go on to Saturn, and when they come to Saturn, we’ll go to Uranus, or Neptune,
and then on out to Pluto”’
‘Where then?’
Mr. Poe’s face was weary; there were fire coals remaining, fading, in his eyes,
and a sad wildness in the way he talked, and a uselessness of his hands and the
way his hair fell lankly over his amazing white brow. He was like a satan of
some lost dark cause, a general arrived from a derelict invasion. His silky,
soft, black mustache was worn away by his musing lips. He was so small his brow
seemed to float, vast and phosphorescent, by itself, in the dark room.
‘We have the advantages of superior forms of travel,’ he said. ‘We can always
hope for one of their atomic wars, dissolution, the dark ages come again. The
return of superstition. We could go back then to Earth, all of us, in one
night.’ Mr. Poe’s black eyes brooded under his round and luminant brow. He gazed
at the ceiling. ‘So they’re coming to ruin this world too? They won’t leave
anything undefiled, will they?’
‘Does a wolf pack stop until it’s killed its prey and eaten the guts? It should
be quite a war. I shall sit on the side lines and be the scorekeeper. So many
Earthmen boiled in oil, so many Mss. Found in Bottles burnt, so many Earthmen
stabbed with needles, so many Red Deaths put to flight by a battery of
hypodermic syringes’ha!’
Poe swayed angrily, faintly drunk with wine. ‘What did we do? Be with us,
Bierce, in the name of God! Did we have a fair trial before a company of
literary critics? No! Our books were plucked up by neat, sterile, surgeon’s
pliers, and flung into vats, to boil, to be killed of all their mortuary germs.
Damn them all!’
‘I find our situation amusing,’ said Bierce.
They were interrupted by a hysterical shout from the tower stair.
‘Mr. Poe! Mr. Bierce!’
‘Yes, yes, we’re coming!’ Poe and Bierce descended to find a man gasping against
the stone passage wall.
‘Have you heard the news?’ he cried immediately, clawing at them like a man
about to fall over a cliff. ‘In an hour they’ll land! They’re bringing books
with them’old books, the witches said! What’re you doing in the tower at a time
like this? Why aren’t you acting?’
Poe said: ‘We’re doing everything we can, Blackwood. You’re new to all this.
Come along, we’re going to Mr. Charles Dickens’ place”’
”to contemplate our doom, our black doom,’ said Mr. Bierce, with a wink.
They moved down the echoing throats of the castle, level after dim green level,
down into mustiness and decay and spiders and dreamlike webbing. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Poe, his brow like a huge white lamp before them, descending, sinking. ‘All along the dead sea tonight I’ve called the others. Your friends and mine, Blackwood’Bierce. They’re all there. The animals and the old women and the tall men with the sharp white teeth. The traps are waiting; the pits, yes, and the pendulums. The Red Death.’ Here he laughed quietly. ‘Yes, even the Red Death. I never thought’no, I never thought the time would come when a thing like the Red Death would actually be. But they asked for it, and they shall have it!’
‘But are we strong enough?’ wondered Blackwood.
‘How strong is strong? They won’t be prepared for us, at least. They haven’t the
imagination. Those clean young rocket men with their antiseptic bloomers and
fish-bowl helmets, with their new religion. About their necks, on gold chains,
scalpels. Upon their heads, a diadem of microscopes. In their holy fingers,
steaming incense urns which in reality are only germicidal ovens for steaming
out superstition. The names of Poe, Bierce, Hawthorne, Blackwood’blasphemy to
their clean lips.’
Outside the castle they advanced through a watery space, a tarn that was not a
tarn, which misted before them like the stuff of nightmares. The air filled with
wing sounds and a whirring, a motion of winds and blacknesses. Voices changed,
figures swayed at campfires. Mr. Poe watched the needles knitting, knitting,
knitting, in the firelight; knitting pain and misery, knitting wickedness into
wax marionettes, clay puppets. The caldron smells of wild garlic and cayenne and saffron hissed up to fill the night with evil pungency.
‘Get on with it!’ said Poe. ‘I’ll be back!’
All down the empty seashore black figures spindled and waned, grew up and blew into black smoke on the sky. Bells rang in mountain towers and licorice ravens spilled out with the bronze sounds and spun away to ashes.
Over a lonely moor and into a small valley Poe and Bierce hurried, and found
themselves quite suddenly on a cobbled street, in cold, bleak, biting weather,
with people stomping up and down stony courtyards to warm their feet; foggy
withal, and candles flaring in the windows of offices and shops where hung the
Yuletide turkeys. At a distance some boys, all bundled up, snorting their pale
breaths on the wintry air, were trilling, ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,’ while
the immense tones of a great clock continuously sounded midnight. Children
dashed by from the baker’s with dinners all asteam in their grubby fists, on
trays and under silver bowls.
At a sign which read SCROOGE, MARLEY AND DICKENS, Poe gave the Marley-faced knocker a rap, and from within, as the door popped open a few inches, a sudden gust of music almost swept them into a dance. And there, beyond the shoulder of the man who was sticking a him goatee and mustaches at them, was Mr. Fezziwig clapping his hands, and Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile, dancing and colliding with other merrymakers, while the fiddle chirped and laughter ran about a table like chandelier crystals given a sudden push of wind. The large table was heaped with brawn and turkey and holly and geese; with mince pies, suckling pigs, wreaths of sausages, oranges and apples; and there was Bob Cratchit and Little Dorrit and Tiny Tim and Mr. Fagin himself, and a man who looked as if he might be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato’who else but Mr. Marley, chains and all, while the wine poured and the brown turkeys did their excellent best to steam!
‘What do you want?’ demanded Mr. Charles Dickens.
‘We’ve come to plead with you again, Charles; we need your help,’ said Poe.
‘Help? Do you think I would help you fight against those good men coming in the
rocket? I don’t belong here, anyway. My books were burned by mistake. I’m no
supernaturalist, no writer of horrors and terrors like you, Poe; you, Bierce, or
the others. I’ll have nothing to do with you terrible people!’
‘You are a persuasive talker,’ reasoned Poe. ‘You could go to meet the rocket
men, lull them, lull their suspicions and then’then we would take care of them.’
Mr. Dickens eyed the folds of the black cape which hid Poe’s hands. From it,
smiling, Poe drew forth a black cat. ‘For one of our visitors.’
‘And for the others?’
Poe smiled again, well pleased. ‘The Premature Burial?’
‘You are a grim man, Mr. Poe.’
‘I am a frightened and an angry man. I am a god, Mr. Dickens, even as you are a
god, even as we all are gods, and our inventions’our people, if you wish’have
not only been threatened, but banished and burned, torn up and censored, ruined and done away with. The worlds we created are falling into ruin. Even gods must fight!’
‘So?’ Mr. Dickens tilted his head, impatient to return to the party, the music,
the food. ‘Perhaps you can explain why we are here? How did we come here?’
‘War begets war. Destruction begets destruction. On Earth, a century ago, in the
year 2020 they outlawed our books. Oh, what a horrible thing’to destroy our
literary creations that way! It summoned us out of’what? Death? The Beyond? I
don’t like abstract things. I don’t know. I only know that our worlds and our
creations called us and we tried to save them, and the only saving thing we
could do was wait out the century here on Mars, hoping Earth might overweight
itself with these scientists and their doubtings; but now they’re coming to
clean us out of here, us and our dark things, and all the alchemists, witches,
vampires, and were-things that, one by one, retreated across space as science
made inroads through every country on Earth and finally left no alternative at
all but exodus. You must help us. You have a good speaking manner. We need you.’
‘I repeat, I am not of you, I don’t approve of you and the others,’ cried
Dickens angrily. ‘I was no player with witches and vampires and midnight
things.’
‘What of A Christmas Carol?’
‘Ridiculous! One story. Oh, I wrote a few others about ghosts, perhaps, but what
of that? My basic works had none of that nonsense!’
‘Mistaken or not, they grouped you with us. They destroyed your books’your
worlds too. You must hate them, Mr. Dickens!’
‘I admit they are stupid and rude, but that is all. Good day!’
‘Let Mr. Marley come, at least!’
‘No!’
The door slammed. As Poe turned away, down the street, skimming over the frosty ground, the coachman playing a lively air on a bugle, came a great coach, out of which, cherry-red, laughing and singing, piled the Pickwickians, banging on the door, shouting Merry Christmas good and loud, when the door was opened by the fat boy.
Mr. Poe hurried along the midnight shore of the dry sea. By fires and smoke he
hesitated, to shout orders, to check the bubbling caldrons, the poisons and the
chalked pentagrams. ‘Good!’ he said, and ran on. ‘Fine!’ he shouted, and ran
again. People joined him and ran with him. Here were Mr. Coppard and Mr. Machen running with him now. And there were hating serpents and angry demons and fiery bronze dragons and spitting vipers and trembling witches like the barbs and nettles and thorns and all the vile flotsam and jetsam of the retreating sea of imagination, left on the melancholy shore, whining and frothing and spitting.
Mr. Machen stopped. He sat like a child on the cold sand. He began to sob. They
tried to soothe him, but he would not listen. ‘I just thought,’ he said. ‘What
happens to us on the day when the last copies of our books are destroyed?’
The air whirled.
‘Don’t speak of it!’
‘We must,’ wailed Mr. Machen. ‘Now, now, as the rocket comes down, you, Mr. Poe; you, Coppard; you, Bierce’all of you grow faint. Like wood smoke. Blowing away.
Your faces melt”
‘Death! Real death for all of us.’
‘We exist only through Earth’s sufferance. If a final edict tonight destroyed
our last few works we’d be like lights put out.’
Coppard brooded gently. ‘I wonder who I am. In what Earth mind tonight do I
exist? In some African hut? Some hermit, reading my tales? Is he the lonely
candle in the wind of time and science? The flickering orb sustaining me here in
rebellious exile? Is it him? Or some boy in a discarded attic, finding me, only
just in time! Oh, last night I felt ill, ill, ill to the marrows of me, for
there is a body of the soul as well as a body of the body, and this soul body
ached in all of its glowing parts, and last night I felt myself a candle,
guttering. When suddenly I sprang up, given new light! As some child, sneezing
with dust, in some yellow garret on Earth once more found a worn, time-specked
copy of me! And so I’m given a short respite!’
A door banged wide in a little hut by the shore. A thin short man, with flesh
hanging from him in folds, stepped out and, paying no attention to the others,
sat down and stared into his clenched fists.
‘There’s the one I’m sorry for,’ whispered Blackwood. ‘Look at him, dying away.
He was once more real than we, who were men. They took him, a skeleton thought,
and clothed him in centuries of pink flesh and snow beard and red velvet suit
and black boot; made him reindeers, tinsel, holly. And after centuries of
manufacturing him they drowned him in a vat of Lysol, you might say.’
The men were silent.
‘What must it be on Earth?’ wondered Poe. ‘Without Christmas? No hot chestnuts,
no tree, no ornaments or drums or candles’nothing; nothing but the snow and wind
and the lonely, factual people. . . .’
They all looked at the thin little old man with the scraggly beard and faded red
velvet suit.
‘Have you heard his story?’
‘I can imagine it. The glitter-eyed psychiatrist, the clever sociologist, the
resentful, froth-mouthed educationalist, the antiseptic parents”’
‘A regrettable situation,’ said fierce, smiling, ‘for the Yuletide merchants
who, toward the last there, as I recall, were beginning to put up holly and sing
Noel the day before Halloween. With any luck at all this year they might have
started on Labor Day!’
Bierce did not continue. He fell forward with a sigh. As he lay upon the ground
he had time to say only, ‘How interesting.’ And then, as they all watched,
horrified, his body burned into blue dust and charred bone, the ashes of which
fled through the air in black tatters.
‘Bierce, Berce!’
‘Gone!’
‘His last book gone. Someone on Earth just now burned it.’
‘God rest him. Nothing of him left now. For what are we but books, and when
those are gone, nothing’s to be seen.’
A rushing sound filled the sky.
They cried out, terrified, and looked up. In the sky, dazzling it with sizzling
fire clouds, was the rocket! Around the men on the seashore lanterns bobbed;
there was a squealing and a bubbling and an odor of cooked spells. Candle-eyed
pumpkins lifted into the cold clear air. Thin fingers clenched into fists and a
witch screamed from her withered mouth:
‘Ship, ship, break, fall!
Ship, ship, burn all!
Crack, flake, shake, melt!
Mummy dust, cat pelt!’
‘Time to go,’ murmured Blackwood. ‘On to Jupiter, on to Saturn or Pluto.’
‘Run away?’ shouted Poe in the wind. ‘Never!’
‘I’m a tired old man!’
Poe gazed into the old man’s face and believed him. He climbed atop a huge
boulder and faced the ten thousand gray shadows and green lights and yellow eyes
on the hissing wind.
‘The powders!’ he shouted.
A thick hot smell of bitter almond, civet, cumin, wormseed and orris!
The rocket came down’steadily down, with the shriek of a damned spirit! Poe
raged at it! He flung his fists up and the orchestra of heat and smell and
hatred answered in symphony! Like stripped tree fragments, bats flew upward!
Burning hearts, flung like missiles, burst in bloody fireworks on the singed
air. Down, down, relentlessly down, like a pendulum the rocket came. And Poe
howled, furiously, and shrank back with every sweep and sweep of the rocket
cutting and ravening the air! All the dead sea seemed a pit in which, trapped,
they waited the sinking of the dread machinery, the glistening ax; they were
people under the avalanche!
‘The snakes!’ screamed Poe.
And luminous serpentines of undulant green hurtled toward the rocket. But it
came down, a sweep, a fire, a motion, and it lay panting out exhaustions of red
plumage on the sand, a mile away.
‘At it!’ shrieked Poe. ‘The plan’s changed! Only one chance! Run! At it! At it!
Drown them with our bodies! Kill them!’
And as if he had commanded a violent sea to change its course, to suck itself
free from primeval beds, the whirls and savage gouts of fire spread and ran like
wind and rain and stark lightning over the sea sands, down empty river deltas,
shadowing and screaming, whistling and whining, sputtering and coalescing toward the rocket which, extinguished, lay like a clean metal torch in the farthest
hollow. As if a great charred caldron of sparkling lava had been overturned, the
boiling people and snapping animals churned down the dry fathoms.
‘Kill them!’ screamed Poe, running.
The rocket men leaped out of their ship, guns ready. They stalked about,
sniffing the air like hounds. They saw nothing. They relaxed.
The captain stepped forth last. He gave sharp commands. Wood was gathered,
kindled, and a fire leapt up in an instant. The captain beckoned his men into a
half circle about him.
‘A new world,’ he said, forcing himself to speak deliberately, though he glanced
nervously, now and again, over his shoulder at the empty sea. ‘The old world
left behind. A new start. What more symbolic than that we here dedicate
ourselves all the more firmly to science and progress.’ He nodded crisply to his
lieutenant. ‘The books.’
Firelight limned the faded gilt titles: The Willows, The Outsider, Behold, The
Dreamer, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Land of Oz, Pellucidar, The Land That Time
Forgot A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the monstrous names of Machen and Edgar
Allan Poe and Cabell and Dunsany and Blackwood and Lewis Carroll; the names, the
old names, the evil names.
‘A new world. With a gesture, we burn the last of the old.’ The captain ripped
pages from the books. Leaf by seared leaf, he fed them into the fire.
A scream!
Leaping back, the men stared beyond the firelight at the edges of the
encroaching and uninhabited sea.
Another scream! A high and wailing thing, like the death of a dragon and the
thrashing of a bronzed whale left gasping when the waters of a leviathan’s sea
drain down the shingles and evaporate.
It was the sound of air rushing in to fill a vacuum, where, a moment before,
there had been something!

The captain neatly disposed of the last book by putting it into the fire.
The air stopped quivering. Silence!
The rocket men leaned and listened. ‘Captain, did you hear it?’
‘No.’
‘Like a wave, sir. On the sea bottom! I thought I saw something. Over there. A
black wave. Big. Running at us.’
‘You were mistaken.’
‘There, sir!’
‘What?’
‘See it? There! The city! Way over! That green city near the lake! It’s
splitting in half. It’s falling!’
The men squinted and shuffled forward.
Smith stood trembling among them. He put his hand to his head as if to find a
thought there. ‘I remember. Yes, now I do. A long time back. When I was a child.
A book I read. A story. Oz, I think it was. Yes, Oz. The Emerald City of Oz . .
.’
‘Oz? Never heard of it.’
‘Yes, Oz, that’s what it was. I saw it just now, like in the story. I saw it
fall.’
‘Smith!’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Report for psychoanalysis tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir!’ A brisk salute.
‘Be careful.’

The men tiptoed, guns alert, beyond the ship’s aseptic light to gaze at the long
sea and the low hills.

‘Why,’ whispered Smith, disappointed, ‘there’s no one here at all, is there? No
one here at all.’

The wind blew sand over his shoes, whining.

No

The End

A final MM note.

Our reality is one ruled by quantum physics. An within this reality is the idea that thoughts create and change our reality. So what happens when entire groups of people no longer have , or possess, certain thoughts? What will the resulting landscape look like?

Do you want more?

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A stunning new way of economic governance is evolving, and Russia, China and Iran are leading the field.

Russians are chess masters and the Chinese have Go, while the U.S.of A has Monopoly. Simple really.

Posted by: Michael McPherson | Apr 6 2021 20:46 utc | 25

This is perhaps the best article that I have read in a while…

I really liked this:

"Socialism versus capitalism? No, it is a long time since the U.S. was a capitalist economy; it’s hardly even a market economy today. It has become, more and more, a rentier economy ..."

Looking at the stock markets and asset prices in general, they are completely disconnected from fundamentals – so much for “market efficiency” and “price discovery” under US-led “capitalism”.

The U.S. “democracy” is also not much of a democracy, but more of a corporatocracy and corrupt plutocracy.

You know, the world doesn’t have to be an either or between socialism/capitalism, and that we can take the key ingredients from both – perhaps what Professor Hudson means by a mixed economy, perhaps something along the lines of what China is trying.

"the U.S.of A has Monopoly" - like that, very apt! That simple analogy encompasses the American plutocracy's mindset of non-productive rent extraction, seeking to control every part of the world, and goal of winner-takes-all hegemony.

Posted by: Canadian Cents | Apr 6 2021 21:11 utc | 27

There can be other flavors and variations.

Delicious Chinese flavors and food.

Alastair Crooke
April 5, 2021
The U.S. will ignore the message from Anchorage. It is already testing China over Taiwan, and is preparing an escalation in Ukraine, to test Russia. 

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War (c. 500 BCE) advises that:

“To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands; yet the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself … Therefore the clever combatant imposes his will; and does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him”.

This is the essence of the Chinese resistance economy – a strategy which has been fully unveiled in the wake of the Anchorage talks; talks that silenced any lingering thoughts in Beijing that America might somehow find some modus vivendi with Beijing in its headlong pursuit of primacy over China.

Although earlier there had been tantalising glimpses of déshabillé, the full reveal to China’s tough stance and rhetoric has only been permitted now – post-Anchorage – and the talks’ confirmation that the U.S. intends to block China’s ascent.

If it is assumed that this ‘resistance’ initiative constitutes some tit-for-tat ‘jab’ at Washington – through sinking Biden’s Iran ambitions, as revenge for America loudly crying ‘war crimes’ (‘genocide’ in Xingjian) – then we miss wholly its full import.

The new great Eurasian partnership.

The scope of the Iran pact by far transcends trade and investment, as one commentator in the Chinese state media made plain:

“As it stands, this deal (the Iran pact) will totally upend the prevailing geopolitical landscape in the West Asian region that has for so long been subject to U.S. hegemony”.

So here is the essence to ‘a clever combatant moving to impose his will’ – there is no need for China or Russia or Iran to go to war to do this; they just implement ‘it’.

They can do ‘it’ – quite simply. They don’t need a revolution to do it, because they have no vested interest in fighting America.

What is ‘it’?

It is not just a trade and investment pact with Tehran; neither is it simply allies helping each other. The ‘resistance’ lies precisely with the way they’re trying to help each other.

It is a mode of economic development.

It represents the notion that any rent-yielding resource – banking, land, natural resources and natural infrastructure monopolies – should be in the public domain to provide basic needs to everybody – freely.

This new way of governance is one where any rent-yielding resource should be public domain, and given to the people for free.

The alternative way simply is to privatise these ‘public goods’ (as in the West), where they are provided at a financialized maximum cost – including interest rates, dividends, management fees, and corporate manipulations for financial gain.

‘It’ is then a truly different economic approach.

To give one example: 

New York’s Second Avenue Subway extension cost $6 billion, or $2 billion per mile – the most expensive urban mass transit ever built. 

The average cost of underground subway lines outside the U.S. is $350 million a mile, or a sixth of New York’s cost.

How does this ‘it’ change everything?

Well, just imagine for a moment: the biggest element in anyone’s budget today is housing at 40%, which simply reflects high house prices, based on a debt-fuelled market.

 Instead, imagine that proportion at 10% (as in China).

Suppose too, you have low-cost public education.

Well then, you are rid of education-led debt, and its interest cost.

Suppose you have public healthcare, and low priced transport infrastructure.

Then you would have the capacity to spend – It becomes a low-cost economy, and consequently it would grow.

Another example:

The cost of hiring R&D staff in China is a third to half the comparable cost in the U.S., so China’s tech spend is closer to $1 trillion a year (in terms of purchasing power parity), whereas the U.S. spends just 0.6% of GDP, or about $130 billion, on federal R&D.

At one level therefore, this ‘it’ is a strategic challenge to the western eco-system.

In one corner, the debt-driven, hyper-financialised, yet stagnant economies of Europe and the EU – in which strategic direction and economic ‘winners and losers’ are set by the Big Oligarchs, and in which the 60% struggle, and 0.1% thrive.

And, in the far corner, a very mixed economy in which the Party sets a strategic course for state enterprises, whilst others are encouraged to innovate, and to be entrepreneurial in the mold of a state-directed economy (albeit, with Taoist and Confucian characteristics).

Socialism versus capitalism?

No, it is a long time since the U.S. was a capitalist economy; it’s hardly even a market economy today.

It has become, more and more, a rentier economy since leaving the gold standard (in 1971).

This forced U.S. exit from the ‘gold window’ facilitated the U.S. via the resultant global demand for U.S. debt instruments, (Treasury bonds), to finance itself for free (from out of the entire world’s economic surplus).

To all my sisters and brothers I say drastic change is in the air as Nature is informing us on many levels of our standing on the precipice of annihilation (not in 30 years but currently), and the only hope for humanity is a quantum leap in consciousness. There is no time to waste. On the world stage, “Us versus Them” is becoming obsolete while “united we stand, divided we fall” increasingly will be forced upon us by momentous forces infinitely more powerful than our illusive technology and weapons that only threaten self destruction while delaying action to save us from our follies and foibles. If we are to survive as a species, we must all strive to develop a cooperative and holistic view of life encompassing all other beings and species, the ecosystem and its vulnerabilities, and the stability of the climate system. We must refrain from conflict resolved through violence, otherwise we are finished. Any discussion of geopolitics must be framed by that awareness.

Posted by: norecovery | Apr 7 2021 4:36 utc | 67

The Washington Consensus ensured additionally that the inflows of dollars to Wall Street from around the globe would never be subject capital controls, nor would states be able to create their own currency, but would have to borrow in dollars from the World Bank and the IMF.

And that essentially meant borrowing from the Pentagon and the State Department in U.S. dollars, who ultimately were the system ‘enforcers’, as Professor Hudson notes.

The shift in the U.S. financial system to being an entity that that prioritises ‘real’ assets, such as mortgages and real estate that offer a certain ‘rent’, rather than to invest directly in speculative business ventures, also means that debt jubilees are verboten. (The Greeks can recount the experience of what that entails, in grim detail).

The point is that – at the economic plane – the U.S., hyper-financialised sphere is fast shrinking, as China, Russia and much of the ‘World Island’ turn to trading in their own currencies (and do not buy U.S. Treasuries).

In a ‘war’ of economic systems, America therefore starts on the back foot.

Halford Mackinder argued a century ago that control of the ‘Heartland’, which stretched from the Volga to the Yangtze, would control the ‘World Island’, which was his term for all Europe, Asia and Africa.

Over a century later, Mackinder’s theory resonates as the two leading nations behind the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) transform this into a system of inter-relations from one Eurasian end to another.

It is not so new, of course.

It is simply the revival of the ancient trade-based economy of the Eurasian heartland, which finally was collapsed in the 17th century.

Alastair Macleod notes that commentators usually fail to understand ‘why’ this flourishing in West Asia is happening:

“It is not due to military superiority, but down to simple economics. 

While the U.S. economy suffers a post-lockdown inflationary outcome and an existential crisis for the dollar – China’s economy will boom on the back of increasing domestic consumption … and increasing exports, the consequence of America’s stimulation of consumer demand and a soaring budget deficit”.

There, explicitly said, is Sun Tzu’s point!

“Opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself”.

There is in Washington (and to an extent in Europe too), a faction entertaining a pathological emotional desire for war with Russia, largely stemming from a conviction that the Tzars (and later Stalin), were anti-Semitic.

Their emotion is one of hatred and anger, yet it is they who largely are responsible for bringing Russia and China together.

This, and America’s proclivity to sanction the world, has given China and Russia their opportunity.

The underlying point however, is that – even for the EU – the Rimland periphery is less important than Mackinder’s World Island.

There was a time when British and then American primacy outweighed its importance – but this may no longer be true.

What is actualizing here is the greatest challenge yet mounted to American economic power and technological supremacy.

Yet this economic Realpolitik is but half the story to China and Russia’s launch of a ‘global resistance economy’. It has a parallel geo-political frame, too.

It is to this latter aspect, most probably, that the Chinese official referred when he said that the Iran deal would…

 “totally upend the prevailing geopolitical landscape in the West Asian region that has for so long been subject to U.S. hegemony”.

Note that he did not say that it would upend Iran’s relations with U.S. or Europe – he said the whole region. He implied too, that China’s initiatives would free West Asia from American hegemony.

How so?

In an interview last week, FM Wang Yi outlined Beijing’s approach to the West Asian region:

“The Middle East was a highland of brilliant civilizations in human history. Yet, due to protracted conflicts and turmoil in the more recent history, the region descended into a security lowland … For the region to emerge from chaos and enjoy stability, it must break free from the shadows of big-power geopolitical rivalry, and independently explore development paths suited to its regional realities. 

It must stay impervious to external pressure and interference, and follow an inclusive and reconciliatory approach to build a security architecture that accommodates the legitimate concerns of all sides … 

Against this backdrop, China wishes to propose a five-point initiative on achieving security and stability in the Middle East:

Firstly, advocating mutual respect … 

Both sides should uphold the international norm of non-interference in others’ internal affairs.

 … it is particularly important for China and Arab states to stand together against slandering, defamation, interference and pressurizing in the name of human rights … [the EU should take note]

Second, upholding equity and justice, opposing unilateralism, and defending international justice … 

China will encourage the Security Council to fully deliberate on the question of Palestine to reaffirm the two-state solution … 

We should uphold the UN-centred international system, as well as the international order underpinned by international law – and jointly promote a new type of international relations. We should share governance experience … and oppose arrogance and prejudice.

Third, achieving non-proliferation … 

Parties need to … discuss and formulate the roadmap and timeframe for the United States and Iran to resume compliance with the JCPOA. 

The pressing task is for the U.S. to take substantive measures to lift its unilateral sanctions on Iran, and long-arm jurisdiction on third parties, and for Iran to resume reciprocal compliance with its nuclear commitments. 

At the same time, the international community should support efforts by regional countries in establishing a Middle East zone free of nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction.

Fourth, jointly fostering collective security … 

We propose holding in China a multilateral dialogue conference for regional security in the Gulf (Persian Gulf) …

And fifthly, accelerating development cooperation …”.

Well, China has spectacularly made its entrance in the Middle East, and is challenging the U.S. with a resistance agenda.

FM Wang, when he met with Ali Larijani, special adviser to the Supreme Leader Khamenei, framed it all in a single sentence:

“Iran decides independently on its relations with other countries, and is not like some countries that change their position with one phone call”. 

This single comment encapsulates the new ‘wolf warrior’ ethos: states should stick with their autonomy and sovereignty. 

China is advocating a sovereigntist multilateralism to shake off “the western yoke”.

Wang did not confine this political message to Iran.

He had just said the same in Saudi Arabia, before arriving in Tehran.

It was well received in Riyadh.

In economic development terms, China earlier had linked Turkey and Pakistan into the ‘corridor’ plan – and now Iran.

How will the U.S. react?

Will There Be A Global Resistance Economy?

Wrong question, imo.

If China is nattering about it then it's a fact on the ground.
The question now is "What will the Totalitarian Capitalist do to nip it in the bud?"

One of the reasons advanced for the Iraq Fake War was that Saddam had declared his intention to side-step the US$ in conducting Iraq's oil transactions.

The trouble with China is that it plans ahead in 5-year & 10-year chunks so the idea of a GRE isn't something Xi dreamt up yesterday afternoon. 

If he's nattering about it; it means that all the physical and bureaucratic infrastructure is in place, and is probably already processing transactions.

I wondered why Scum Mo panicked by chopping CGTN off at the socks after hearing about China's 13th People's Congress in early March and assumed it was because his idea of a long-range plan is "Who are we going to screw tomorrow?" or "No, sorry, we're discussing the future and the meeting is Top Secret so you voters/shitkickers aren't invited!"

Posted by: Hoarsewhisperer | Apr 6 2021 20:33 utc | 23

How will the USA react?

It will ignore the message from Anchorage.

It will likely press on.

It is already testing China over Taiwan, and is preparing an escalation in Ukraine, to test Russia.

For the EU, the Chinese entry into global politics is more problematic.

It was trying to leverage its own ‘strategic autonomy’ by erecting European values as the gateway to inclusion into its market and trade partnership.

China effectively is telling the world to reject any such hegemonic imposition of alien values and rights.

The EU is stranded in the midst.

Unlike the U.S., it is precluded from printing the money with which to resurrect its virus-blighted economy.

It desperately needs trade and investment.

Its biggest trading partner, and its tech well-spring, however, has just told the EU (as the U.S.), to give up on its moralising discourse.

At the same time, Europe’s ‘security partner’ has just demanded the opposite – that the EU strengthens it.

What’s to be done?

Sit back, and watch … (with fingers crossed that no one does something extremely stupid).

China, in turn, was definitely 3rd world when the Qing dynasty fell. 40 years of "capitalism" did nothing whatsoever to improve China's economy. And even at the beginning of Deng's "market" reforms, China was a very different place - economically and infrastructurally - than it was in 1949.

What Crooke writes about is exactly what Hudson has repeatedly spoken to: the original goal for economists was reform. Reform of economies away from the stranglehold of feudal/aristocratic rentiers towards economic goals that benefit everyone. The feudal/aristocratic interests have only been replaced by banksters - and thus the Russia/China/Iran response is as much defensive as it is reform. They're being attacked politically and economically by the bankster classes because all 3 of those nations have, in the recent past, booted out their oligarchs.

Russia booted out its aristocrats in 1917 then Putin brought the "privatization" oligarchs to heel 2000-2006.

China booted out its capitalist/warlord oligarchs in 1949, then booted out the socialist bureaucrats in the 1980s.

Iran booted out both its king and British American oil interests in 1979.

Is it any wonder these nations are hated and feared by the banksters worldwide? And their existence gleefully used to justify outrageous sums spent on "defense" by the MIC profiteers?

Posted by: c1ue | Apr 7 2021 16:56 utc | 91

Conclusions and some thoughts

What is going on now is historic. It’s not a matter of one nation fighting another. Instead an entire way of doing things is being up-ended. China has shown the way, and it is no wonder that the United States is blocking videos out of China, and news out of China, and whenever it discusses anything about China it is so darn negative.

Look at America today.

EVERYTHING is for profit. Everything. From drinking water, to getting arrested for having too much money inside your wallet. Even Adobe has changed from…

"Save PDF as..." 

to 

"Save PDF as long as you have a "membership" just pay this monthly fee...

For a fee, don’t you know.

People! This is all FUCKED UP!

China’s way of doing things is WORKING.

America is nearly 30 trillion dollars in debt. That’s an impossible number. If you mined all the gold on the entire planet, you would never have this kind of money.

How can this situation arise?

But creating debt out of “thin air”; out of nothing. And that has been the pyramid scheme for all these many, many decades. People who make nothing, and provides no services end up being fantastically engorged with wealth, while those who make and create things, and provide tangible services end up in poverty or as debt slaves.

It’s not a sustainable model.

In the mean time we must re-organize our societies and get rid of the parasites that try to end our world even before the next big asteroid. What China and Russia is doing is clearly the way forward.

I think however "capitalism" and "socialism" is 20th century vocabulary of limited relevance in the present situation. It is not "left" vs. "right" anymore (if it ever was).

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 6 2021 20:43 utc | 24

China, a nation of meritocracy understands this.

And so you are seeing the result…

The wealthy oligarchy, sitting on top of their big imaginary fortunes are demanding that the world engage in a hot (probably nuclear) war rather than they succumb to the ultimate reality that is approaching “on the tracks”. Indeed it’s going to be one fuck of a “train wreck”.

Is the greater public ever going to get a clear view of the difference behind the "rules based order" of the West (we own the money system and make the rules) and the negotiated International law based order?

Posted by: psychohistorian | Apr 20 2021 17:05 utc | 4

And the rest of the world is starting to jump on the “bandwagon” and trade in their own currencies backed in solid tangible items. Those nations that will refuse to do so will see their piles of money evaporate in value. And thus a great economic explosion is looming in the future, and the ONLY means to prevent it is for the Untied States to nuke the fuck out of Asia.

We will see what will happen.

That is my take as well. Plus the message that China possesses an incredible sense of social solidarity and flexibility. The switches in production to meet emergency pandemic components from masks to complex ventilators to food distribution chains - that is an extraordinary tale of a great civilisation facing an immense stress test and emerging wiser and stronger.

Most interesting is the synchronicity between the small and large capitalist sector with the public sector. THAT is the economy that the west was deluded into abandoning and still detests and undermines with every ounce of its effort.

Posted by: uncle tungsten | Apr 7 2021 5:40 utc | 72

I for one welcome a world without all those psychopathic leeches charging fees and taxes and regulations on everything that you do. It was totally refreshing when I moved to China, and those who have never had this experience is in for an amazing ride!

Good for Iran; and China, Russia, and Asia will benefit as well.

My main fear is a wounded USA over reacting itself into a war...

A bully usually needs a good whupping to stop bullying; in the case of the US, it may bring out the worst, to avoid losing face on the world's stage.
...and yes; they're that sick, IMHO...

The positive in all this is that, I believe, both Russia and China know the US better than the US knows them...

Posted by: V | Apr 7 2021 6:06 utc | 76

Picture Time

For all of you don’t have a clue as to what I am talking about, and instead drink the “electric Kool Aide” from the American media, and who are fearful of living like those “dirty, filthy Chinese” here’s some pictures that I took with my Metallic-Camera.

The main objective of China’s Government is the rejuvenation of China.

In part demonstrably evidenced by the determined efforts made for the betterment and the well-being of its population.

Which is reflected in the credibility and high level of trust the Chinese people place in their government. 

These concepts don’t exist in the west. 

In the US, the “world’s model for everything”, a virus epidemic is seen through lenses of profiteering by large corporations.

With sick people not being humans in need of assistance but merely a new lucrative “market” – for those with money to pay. 

An American hospital is not a place for healing the sick but a kind of barnyard filled with cash cows to milk. 

This is one fundamental reason underlying America’s chaotic and hopeless approach to dealing with the epidemic.  

Zhuhai. A view from my front yard.

But don’t you all worry. According to this article written in 2016, China is going to collapse any day now (LOL)!

Well, it didn’t. Here’s the hard data…

And we can clearly see this from a MM point of view, like here…

A pretty typical Chinese factory. This is a brake operation. Note the slave and child labor that you hear so much about in the American and UK media. Oh, and don’t forget the nets that are used to prevent people from jumping off the tops of the buildings! LOL!

But…

For some years now I've been looking for a decent currency to live my life with. We seem much closer now with the Digital Yuan. And as you say, if somehow it were banned by the world and refused exchange in other currencies (which seems impossible even to imagine), I'd be happy to cash it all in within China.

Bitcoin never became a currency - it may or may not end up highly priced at a collector's value but it seems improbable that it could settle enough to become a usable mainstream currency. It could be a wealthy person's trading counter, perhaps. But like all such tokens, it remains vulnerable to fads.

But I don't want to leave my last word with bitcoin. The last word, quite possibly for the entire world, may well rest with the Yuan.

Posted by: Grieved | Apr 7 2021 1:57 utc | 55

Let’s take a look at just what is actually going on in China today. You know when the cost of housing is less than 10% of your income, and the TOTAL taxes and fees for being a citizen is less than 3%, you have the ability to save and live a stress free life.

It manifests like this…

When your rent or housing cost is less than 10% of your income, it’s easy to save money; and as a result life isn’t all that stressful.

AH.

Socialism does not mean the government owns everything.

It means the government owns the things that everybody NEEDS to have work well. Those things you don't want some needy jerk exploiting to make themselves rich or powerful with. 

And those socialized things should be at nominal cost or free, to enable EVERYBODY to do their best in life. 

If you want your culture and society (as a whole) to do well, you have to enable them with all the necessities. 

You can have either "unproductive parasites" or you can have "a healthy body politic", not both.

Posted by: Bemildred | Apr 6 2021 20:32 utc | 22

But there’s more than what meets the eye. Instead of a “live your life as you see fit as a lone wolf” in America, the Chinese look hard and expect their children to grow up to be useful productive members of society. Here’s a pre-Kindergarden where infants are learning social interaction, basic spelling and language skills and proper social manners.

This is quite different from what American Public Education provides.

This is a Chinese pre-Kindergarden. Here’ the kids learn to socialize and learn their language skills early on.

There’s change in the air.

You can feel it.

To all the others who have read or are interested in the summation by Larry Romanoff over at the Saker called, Dealing With Demons.

It's a lengthy review of the coronavirus as it hit China and the world. It's basically a forensic report on 2020, with about 160 footnotes to media and authority sources - the piece itself is a reference to bookmark, and the stories linked are probably a world of fascination.

For those of us intensely following the situation, many of the facts and summaries presented are not new, but everyone will find something previously unknown in Romanoff's magisterial story.

And it is a story, immensely readable, merely long - so make coffee or pour a drink and find a quiet hour, and there in that mere one hour you will have the real story of 2020, and the true picture of China.

~~

One thing - I had originally heard the translation of Xi's rallying call to action as the virus being a "Devil", not a Demon. The obvious connection seemed compelling with the "foreign devils" that plundered China of old and that still at every opportunity now attempt to exploit it. Maybe it's a nothing, maybe it's everything, in China's response of total mobilization, as if under attack. Romanoff doesn't go there, although he may have in earlier reports of this pandemic that he has dealt with so well (he's had great articles on the pandemic at Unz).

~~

For me, the venality and mean-spiritedness of the US establishment becomes so clear that I have to correct a previous speculation I made recently. I wondered - here in these threads, I think - if the hardening of Chinese diplomatic language was somewhat calculated and aimed at preparing its own nation for military conflict with the US.

But I see now from Romanoff's report the extraordinary effort made by the Chinese people to help the US, in the spirit of goodness, even as the US media was being fed the lies to demonize China, and to turn the US populace into a majority population that hates China.

And the Chinese people are well aware of this. And now that the dust has settled for them, it is a clear picture for them to reflect on regarding the US and say, "fuck 'em - never again will we help those people."

So the real change came first, as the Chinese nation opened its heart to the US, and was trashed and slandered in return. 

And the Chinese diplomatic language is simply reflecting the overall feeling of 1.4 billion citizens of this planet who now understand with great finality that the US is beyond the pale.

Posted by: Grieved | Apr 7 2021 4:38 utc | 68

And you know, nothing says it’s time to close out this article than a movie. Here’s one that I took while I was on a trip to a factory the other week.

The movie…

Do you want more?

Ok, then.

Here’s a MV in Cantonese.

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The Man by Ray Bradbury (Full Text)

The main theme in this story is the role of faith in gaining redemption. 

The Man is what the Judeo-Christian faiths would term the Messiah or Savior, but Bradbury opts to make this a broader, explicitly stating that this figure exists in many cultures and goes by many names. 

What the Man brings, however, is a sense of peace and happiness that is akin to what the Judeo-Christian faiths would call redemption - that is, a forgiveness of sins and a more enlightened way of life.

The Man

By Ray Bradbury

CAPTAIN HART stood in the door of the rocket. ‘Why don’t they come?’ he said.
‘Who knows?’ said Martin, his lieutenant. ‘Do I know, Captain?’
‘What kind of a place is this, anyway?’ The captain lighted a cigar. He tossed
the match out into the glittering meadow. The grass started to burn.
Martin moved to stamp it out with his boot.
‘No,’ ordered Captain Hart, ‘let it burn. Maybe they’ll come see what’s
happening then, the ignorant fools.’
Martin shrugged and withdrew his foot from the spreading fire.
Captain Hart examined his watch. ‘An hour ago we landed here, and does the
welcoming committee rush out with a brass band to shake our hands? No indeed!
Here we ride millions of miles through space and the fine citizens of some silly
town on some unknown planet ignore us!’ He snorted, tapping his watch. ‘Well,
I’ll just give them five more minutes, and then”’
‘And then what?’ asked Martin, ever so politely, watching the captain’s jowls
shake.
‘We’ll fly over their damned city again and scare hell out of them.’ His voice
grew quieter. ‘Do you think, Martin, maybe they didn’t see us land?’
‘They saw us. They looked up as we flew over.
‘Then why aren’t they running across the field? Are they hiding? Are they
yellow?’
Martin shook his head. ‘No. Take these binoculars, sir. See for yourself.
Everybody’s walking around. They’re not frightened. They’well, they just don’t
seem to care.
Captain Hart placed the binoculars to his tired eyes. Martin looked up and had
time to observe the lines and the grooves of irritation, tiredness, nervousness
there. Hart looked a million years old; he never slept, he ate little, and drove
himself on, on. Now his mouth moved, aged and drear, but sharp, under the held
binoculars.
‘Really, Martin, I don’t know why we bother. We build rockets, we go to all the
trouble of crossing space, searching for them, and this is what we get. Neglect.
Look at those idiots wander about in there. Don’t they realize how big this is?
The first space flight to touch their provincial land. How many times does that
happen? Are they that blas’?’
Martin didn’t know.
Captain Hart gave him back the binoculars wearily. ‘Why do we do it, Martin?
This space travel, I mean. Always on the go. Always searching. Our insides
always tight, never any rest.’
‘Maybe we’re looking for peace and quiet. Certainly there’s none on Earth,’ said
Martin.
‘No, there’s not, is there?’ Captain Hart was thoughtful, the fire damped down.
‘Not since Darwin, eh? Not since everything went by the board, everything we
used to believe in, eh? Divine power and all that. And so you think maybe that’s
why we’re going out to the stars, eh, Martin? Looking for our lost souls, is
that it? Trying to get away from our evil planet to a good one?’
‘Perhaps, sir. Certainly we’re looking for something.’
Captain Hart cleared his throat and tightened back into sharpness. ‘Well, right
now we’re looking for the mayor of that city there. Run in, tell them who we
are, the first rocket expedition to Planet Forty-three in Star System Three.
Captain Hart sends his salutations and desires to meet the mayor. On the
double!’
‘Yes, sir.’ Martin walked slowly across the meadow.
‘Hurry!’ snapped the captain.
‘Yes, sir!’ Martin trotted away. Then he walked again, smiling to himself.
The captain had smoked two cigars before Martin returned. Martin stopped and
looked up into the door of the rocket, swaying, seemingly unable to focus his
eyes or think.
‘Well?’ snapped Hart. ‘What happened? Are they coming to welcome us?’
‘No.’ Martin had to lean dizzily against the ship.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not important,’ said Martin. ‘Give me a cigarette, please, Captain.’ His
fingers groped blindly at the rising pack, for he was looking at the golden city
and blinking. He lighted one and smoked quietly for a long time.
‘Say something!’ cried the captain. ‘Aren’t they interested in our rocket?’
Martin said, ‘What? Oh. The rocket?’ He inspected his cigarette. ‘No, they’re
not interested. Seems we came at an inopportune time.’
‘Inopportune time!’
Martin was patient. ‘Captain, listen. Something big happened yesterday in that
city. It’s so big, so important that we’re second-rate’second fiddle. I’ve got
to sit down.’ He lost his balance and sat heavily, gasping for air.
The captain chewed his cigar angrily. “What happened?’ Martin lifted his head,
smoke from the burning cigarette in his fingers, blowing in the wind. ‘Sir,
yesterday, in that city, a remarkable man appeared’good, intelligent,
compassionate, and infinitely wise!’
The captain glared at his lieutenant. ‘What’s that to do with us?’
‘It’s hard to explain. But he was a man for whom they’d waited a long time’a
million years maybe. And yesterday he walked into their city. That’s why today,
sir, our rocket landing means nothing.’
The captain sat down violently. ‘Who was it? Not Ashley? He didn’t arrive in his
rocket before us and steal my glory, did he?’ He seized Martin’s arm. His face
was pale and dismayed.
‘Not Ashley, sir.’
‘Then it was Burton! I knew it. Burton stole in ahead of us and ruined my
landing! You can’t trust anyone any more.’
‘Not Burton, either, sir,’ said Martin quietly.
The captain was incredulous. ‘There were only three rockets. We were in the
lead. This man who got here ahead of us? What was his name!’
‘He didn’t have a name. He doesn’t need one. It would be different on every
planet, sir.’
The captain stared at his lieutenant with hard, cynical eyes. ‘Well, what did he
do that was so wonderful that nobody even looks at our ship?’
‘For one thing,’ said Martin steadily, ‘he healed the sick and comforted the
poor. He fought hypocrisy and dirty politics and sat among the people, talking,
through the day.’
‘Is that so wonderful?’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘I don’t get this.’ The captain confronted Martin, peered into his face and
eyes. ‘You been drinking, eh?’ He was suspicious. He backed away. ‘I don’t
understand.’
Martin looked at the city. ‘Captain, if you don’t understand, there’s no way of
telling you.’
The captain followed his gaze. The city was quiet and beautiful and a great
peace lay over it. The captain stepped forward, taking his cigar from his lips.
He squinted first at Martin, then at the golden spires of the buildings.
‘You don’t mean’you can’t mean’ That man you’re talking about couldn’t be”’
Martin nodded. ‘That’s what I mean, sir.
The captain stood silently, not moving. He drew himself up.
‘I don’t believe it,’ he said at last.
At high noon Captain Hart walked briskly into the city, accompanied by
Lieutenant Martin and an assistant who was carrying some electrical equipment.
Every once in a while the captain laughed loudly, put his hands on his hips and
shook his head.
The mayor of the town confronted him. Martin set up a tripod, screwed a box onto
it, and switched on the batteries.
‘Are you the mayor?’ The captain jabbed a finger out.
‘I am,’ said the mayor.
The delicate apparatus stood between them, controlled and adjusted by Martin and
the assistant. Instantaneous translations from any language were made by the
box. The words sounded crisply on the mild air of the city.
‘About this occurrence yesterday,’ said the captain. ‘It occurred?’
‘It did.’
‘You have witnesses?’
‘We have.’
‘May we talk to them?’
‘Talk to any of us,’ said the mayor. ‘We are all witnesses.’
In an aside to Martin the captain said, ‘Mass hallucination.’ To the mayor,
‘What did this man’this stranger’look like?’
‘That would be hard to say,’ said the mayor, smiling a little.
‘Why would it?’
‘Opinions might differ slightly.’
‘I’d like your opinion, sir, anyway,’ said the captain. ‘Record this,’ he
snapped to Martin over his shoulder. The lieutenant pressed the button of a hand
recorder.
‘Well,’ said the mayor of the city, ‘he was a very gentle and kind man. He was
of a great and knowing intelligence.’
‘Yes’yes, I know, I know.’ The captain waved his fingers. ‘Generalizations. I
want something specific. What did he look like?’
‘I don’t believe that is important,’ replied the mayor.
‘It’s very important,’ said the captain sternly. ‘I want a description of this
fellow. If I can’t get it from you, I’ll get it from others.’ To Martin, ‘I’m
sure it must have been Burton, pulling one of his practical jokes.’
Martin would not look him in the face. Martin was coldly silent.
The captain snapped his fingers. ‘There was something or other’a healing?’
‘Many healings,’ said the mayor.
‘May I see one?’
‘You may,’ said the mayor. ‘My son.’ He nodded at a small boy who stepped
forward. ‘He was afflicted with a withered arm. Now, look upon it.’
At this the captain laughed tolerantly. ‘Yes, yes. This isn’t even
circumstantial evidence, you know. I didn’t see the boy’s withered arm. I see
only his arm whole and well. That’s no proof. What proof have you that the boy’s
arm was withered yesterday and today is well?’
‘My word is my proof,’ said the mayor simply.
‘My dear man!’ cried the captain. ‘You don’t expect me to go on hearsay, do you?
Oh no!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the mayor, looking upon the captain with what appeared to be
curiosity and pity.
‘Do you have any pictures of the boy before today?’ asked the captain.
After a moment a large oil portrait was carried forth, showing the son with a
withered arm.
‘My dear fellow!’ The captain waved it away. ‘Anybody can paint a picture.
Paintings lie. I want a photograph of the boy.’
There was no photograph. Photography was not a known art in their society.
‘Well,’ sighed the captain, face twitching, ‘let me talk to a few other
citizens. We’re getting nowhere.’ He pointed at a woman. ‘You.’ She hesitated.
‘Yes, you; come here,’ ordered the captain. ‘Tell me about this wonderful man
you saw yesterday.’
The woman looked steadily at the captain. ‘He walked among us and was very fine
and good.’
‘What color were his eyes?’
‘The color of the sun, the color of the sea, the color of a flower, the color of
the mountains, the color of the night.’
‘That’ll do.’ The captain threw up his hands. ‘See, Martin? Absolutely nothing.
Some charlatan wanders through whispering sweet nothings in their ears and”’
‘Please, stop it,’ said Martin.
The captain stepped back. ‘What?’
‘You heard what I said,’ said Martin. ‘I like these people. I believe what they
say. You’re entitled to your opinion, but keep it to yourself, sir.’
‘You can’t talk to me this way,’ shouted the captain.
‘I’ve had enough of your highhandedness,’ replied Martin. ‘Leave these people
alone. They’ve got something good and decent, and you come and foul up the nest
and sneer at it. Well, I’ve talked to them too. I’ve gone through the city and
seen their faces, and they’ve got something you’ll never have’a little simple
faith, and they’ll move mountains with it. You, you’re boiled because someone
stole your act, got here ahead and made you unimportant!’
‘I’ll give you five seconds to finish,’ remarked the captain. ‘I understand.
You’ve been under a strain, Martin. Months of traveling in space, nostalgia,
loneliness. And now, with this thing happening, I sympathize, Martin. I overlook
your petty insubordination.’
‘I don’t overlook your petty tyranny,’ replied Martin. ‘I’m stepping out. I’m
staying here.’
‘You can’t do that!’
‘Can’t I? Try and stop me. This is what I came looking for. I didn’t know it,
but this is it. This is for me. Take your filth somewhere else and foul up other
nests with your doubt and your’scientific method!’ He looked swiftly about.
‘These people have had an experience, and you can’t seem to get it through your
head that it’s really happened and we were lucky enough to almost arrive in time
to be in on it.
‘People on Earth have talked about this man for twenty centuries after he walked
through the old world. We’ve all wanted to see him and hear him, and never had
the chance. And now, today, we just missed seeing him by a few hours.’
Captain Hart looked at Martin’s cheeks. ‘You’re crying like a baby. Stop it.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Well, I do. In front of these natives we’re to keep up a front. You’re
overwrought. As I said, I forgive you.’
‘I don’t want your forgiveness.”
‘You idiot. Can’t you see this is one of Burton’s tricks, to fool these people,
to bilk them, to establish his oil and mineral concerns under a religious guise!
You fool, Martin. You absolute fool! You should know Earthmen by now. They’ll do
anything’blaspheme, lie, cheat, steal, kill, to get their ends. Anything is fine
if it works; the true pragmatist, that’s Burton. You know him!’
The captain scoffed heavily. ‘Come off it, Martin, admit it; this is the sort of
scaly thing Burton might carry off, polish up these citizens and pluck them when
they’re ripe.’
‘No,’ said Martin, thinking of it.
The captain put his hand up. ‘That’s Burton. That’s him. That’s his dirt, that’s
his criminal way. I have to admire the old dragon. Flaming in here in a blaze
and a halo and a soft word and a loving touch, with a medicated salve here and a
healing ray there. That’s Burton all right!’
‘No.’ Martin’s voice was dazed. He covered his eyes. ‘No, I won’t believe it.’
‘You don’t want to believe.’ Captain Hart kept at it. ‘Admit it now. Admit it!
It’s just the thing Burton would do. Stop daydreaming, Martin. Wake up! It’s
morning. This is a real world and we’re real, dirty people’Burton the dirtiest
of us all!’
Martin turned away.
‘There, there, Martin,’ said Hart, mechanically patting the man’s back. ‘I
understand. Quite a shock for you. I know. A rotten shame, and all that. That
Burton is a rascal. You go take it easy. Let me handle this.’
Martin walked off slowly toward the rocket.
Captain Hart watched him go. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to the woman
he had been questioning. ‘Well. Tell me some more about this man. As you were
saying, madam?’
Later the officers of the rocket ship ate supper on card tables outside. The
captain correlated his data to a silent Martin who sat red-eyed and brooding
over his meal.
‘Interviewed three dozen people, all of them full of the same milk and hogwash,’
said the captain. ‘It’s Burton’s work all right, I’m positive. He’ll be spilling
back in here tomorrow or next week to consolidate his miracles and beat us out
in our contracts. I think I’ll stick on and spoil it for him.’
Martin glanced up sullenly. ‘I’ll kill him,’ he said.
‘Now, now, Martin! There, there, boy.’
‘I’ll kill him’so help me, I will.’
‘We’ll put an anchor on his wagon. You have to admit he’s clever. Unethical but
clever.’
‘He’s dirty.’
‘You must promise not to do anything violent.’ Captain Hart checked his figures.
‘According to this, there were thirty miracles of healing performed, a blind man
restored to vision, a leper cured. Oh, Burton’s efficient, give him that.’
A gong sounded. A moment later a man ran up. ‘Captain, sir. A report! Burton’s
ship is coming down. Also the Ashley ship, sir!’
‘See!’ Captain Hart beat the table. ‘Here come the jackals to the harvest! They
can’t wait to feed. Wait till I confront them. I’ll make them cut me in on this
feast’I will!’
Martin looked sick. He stared at the captain.
‘Business, my dear boy, business,’ said the captain.
Everybody looked up. Two rockets swung down out of the sky.
When the rockets landed they almost crashed.
‘What’s wrong with those fools?’ cried the captain, jumping up. The men ran
across the meadowlands to the steaming ships.
The captain arrived. The airlock door popped open on Burton’s ship.
A man fell out into their arms.
‘What’s wrong?’ cried Captain Hart.
The man lay on the ground. They bent over him and he was burned, badly burned.
His body was covered with wounds and scars and tissue that was inflamed and
smoking. He looked up out of puffed eyes and his thick tongue moved in his split
lips.
‘What happened?’ demanded the captain, kneeling down, shaking the man’s arm.
‘Sir, sir,’ whispered the dying man. ‘Forty-eight hours ago, back in Space
Sector Seventy-nine DFS, off Planet One in this system, our ship, and Ashley’s
ship, ran into a cosmic storm, sir.’ Liquid ran gray from the man’s nostrils.
Blood trickled from his mouth. ‘Wiped out. All crew. Burton dead. Ashley died an
hour ago. Only three survivals.’
‘Listen to me!’ shouted Hart bending over the bleeding man. ‘You didn’t come to
this planet before this very hour?’
Silence.
‘Answer me!’ cried Hart.
The dying man said, ‘No. Storm. Burton dead two days ago. This first landing on
any world in six months.’
‘Are you sure?’ shouted Hart, shaking violently, gripping the man in his hands.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure, sure,’ mouthed the dying man.
‘Burton died two days ago? You’re positive?’
‘Yes, yes,’ whispered the man. His head fell forward. The man was dead.
The captain knelt beside the silent body. The captain’s face twitched, the
muscles jerking involuntarily. The other members of the crew stood back of him
looking down. Martin waited. The captain asked to be helped to his feet,
finally, and this was done. They stood looking at the city. ‘That means”’
‘That means?’ said Martin.
‘We’re the only ones who’ve been here,’ whispered Captain Hart. ‘And that man”’
‘What about that man, Captain?’ asked Martin.
The captain’s face twitched senselessly. He looked very old indeed, and gray.
His eyes were glazed. He moved forward in the dry grass.
‘Come along, Martin. Come along. Hold me up; for my sake, hold me. I’m afraid
I’ll fall. And hurry. We can’t waste time”’
They moved, stumbling, toward the city, in the long dry grass, in the blowing
wind.
Several hours later they were sitting in the mayor’s auditorium. A thousand
people had come and talked and gone. The captain had remained seated, his face
haggard, listening, listening. There was so much light in the faces of those who
came and testified and talked he could not bear to see them. And all the while
his hands traveled, on his knees, together; on his belt, jerking and quivering.
When it was over, Captain Hart turned to the mayor and with strange eyes said:
‘But you must know where he went?’
‘He didn’t say where he was going,’ replied the mayor.
‘To one of the other nearby worlds?’ demanded the captain.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must know.’
‘Do you see him?’ asked the mayor, indicating the crowd.
The captain looked. ‘No.’
‘Then he is probably gone,’ said the mayor.
‘Probably, probably!’ cried the captain weakly. ‘I’ve made a horrible mistake,
and I want to see him now. Why, it just came to me, this is a most unusual thing
in history. To be in on something like this. Why, the chances are one in
billions we’d arrived at one certain planet among millions of planets the day
after he came! You must know where he’s gone!’
‘Each finds him in his own way,’ replied the mayor gently.
‘You’re hiding him.’ The captain’s face grew slowly ugly.
Some of the old hardness returned in stages. He began to stand up.
‘No,’ said the mayor.
‘You know where be is then?’ The captain’s fingers twitched at the leather
holster on his right side.
‘I couldn’t tell you where he is, exactly,’ said the mayor.
‘I advise you to start talking,’ and the captain took out a small steel gun.
‘There’s no way,’ said the mayor, ‘to tell you anything.’
‘Liar!’
An expression of pity came into the mayor’s face as he looked at Hart.
‘You’re very tired,’ he said. ‘You’ve traveled a long way and you belong to a
tired people who’ve been without faith a long time, and you want to believe so
much now that you’re interfering with yourself. You’ll only make it harder if
you kill. You’ll never find him that way.
‘Where’d he go? He told you; you know. Come on, tell me!’ The captain waved the
gun.
The mayor shook his head.
‘Tell me! Tell me!’
The gun cracked once, twice. The mayor fell, his arm wounded.
Martin leaped forward. ‘Captain!’
The gun flashed at Martin. ‘Don’t interfere.’
On the floor, holding his wounded arm, the mayor looked up. ‘Put down your gun.
You’re hurting yourself. You’ve never believed, and now that you think you
believe, you hurt people because of it.’
‘I don’t need you,’ said Hart, standing over him. ‘If I missed him by one day
here, I’ll go on to another world. And another and another. I’ll miss him by
half a day on the next planet, maybe, and a quarter of a day on the third
planet, and two hours on the next, and an hour on the next, and half an hour on
the next, and a minute on the next. But after that, one day I’ll catch up with
him! Do you hear that?’ He was shouting now, leaning wearily over the man on the
floor. He staggered with exhaustion. ‘Come along, Martin.’ He let the gun hang
in his hand.
‘No,’ said Martin. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘You’re a fool. Stay if you like. But I’m going on, with the others, as far as I
can go.’
The mayor looked up at Martin. ‘I’ll be all right. Leave me. Others will tend my
wounds.’
‘I’ll be back,’ said Martin. ‘I’ll walk as far as the rocket.’ They walked with
vicious speed through the city. One could see with what effort the captain
struggled to show all the old iron, to keep himself going. When he reached the
rocket he slapped the side of it with a trembling hand. He holstered his gun. He
looked at Martin.
‘Well, Martin?’
Martin looked at him. ‘Well, Captain?’
The captain’s eyes were on the sky. ‘Sure you won’t’come with’with me, eh?’
‘No, sir.’
‘It’ll be a great adventure, by God. I know I’ll find him.’
‘You are set on it now, aren’t you, sir?’ asked Martin.
The captain’s face quivered and his eyes closed. ‘Yes.’
‘There’s one thing I’d like to know.’
‘What?’
‘Sir, when you find him’if you find him,’ asked Martin, ‘what will you ask of
him?’
‘Why” The captain faltered, opening his eyes. His hands clenched and
unclenched. He puzzled a moment and then broke into a strange smile. ‘Why, I’ll
ask him for a little’peace and quiet.’ He touched the rocket. ‘It’s been a long
time, a long, long time since’since I relaxed.’
‘Did you ever just try, Captain?’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Hart.
‘Never mind. So long, Captain.’
‘Good-by, Mr. Martin.’
The crew stood by the port. Out of their number only three were going on with
Hart. Seven others were remaining behind, they said, with Martin.
Captain Hart surveyed them and uttered his verdict: ‘Fools!’ He, last of all,
climbed into the airlock, gave a brisk salute, laughed sharply. The door
slammed.
The rocket lifted into the sky on a pillar of fire.
Martin watched it go far away and vanish.
At the meadow’s edge the mayor, supported by several men, beckoned.
‘He’s gone,’ said Martin, walking up.
‘Yes, poor man, he’s gone,’ said the mayor. ‘And he’ll go on, planet after
planet, seeking and seeking, and always and always he will be an hour late, or a
half hour late, or ten minutes late, or a minute late. And finally he will miss
out by only a few seconds. And when he has visited three hundred worlds and is
seventy or eighty years old he will miss out by only a fraction of a second, and
then a smaller fraction of a second. And he will go on and on, thinking to find
that very thing which he left behind here, on this planet, in this city”
Martin looked steadily at the mayor.
The mayor put out his hand. ‘Was there ever any doubt of it?’ He beckoned to the
others and turned. ‘Come along now. We mustn’t keep him waiting.”
They walked into the city.

The End

Some comments.

Captain Hart is faced with the possibility of this redemption, but makes two mistakes: first, he initially refuses to believe; second, when forced to believe by circumstances, he thinks he can take control of the situation with force.

Faith isn’t about taking control, after all, but releasing control and allowing a higher power to lead the way.

What Hart feels, then, isn’t faith at all, but a kind of agnostic desperation.

Agnosticism is a non-committal attitude to the existence of God: neither atheistic nor believing in God, but instead waiting for solid proof to sway one's position.

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The Star by Arthur C Clarke (full text)

This is a nice short story by Arthur C. Clarke. It is titled “The Star”. It’s actually wonderful. It’s the reason why many of us started reading science fiction short stories in the first place.

The Star

From The Nine Billion Names of God: The Best Short Stories of Arthur C. Clarke

It is three thousand light-years to the Vatican. Once, I believed that space could have no power over faith, just as I believed the heavens declared the glory of God’s handwork. Now I have seen that handiwork, and my faith is sorely troubled. I stare at the crucifix that hangs on the cabin wall above the Mark VI Computer, and for the first time in my life I wonder if it is no more than an empty symbol.

I have told no one yet, but the truth cannot be concealed. The facts are there for all to read, recorded on the countless miles of magnetic tape and the thousands of photographs we are carrying back to Earth. Other scientists can interpret them as easily as I can, and I am not one who would condone that tampering with the truth which often gave my order a bad name in the olden days.

The crew were already sufficiently depressed: I wonder how they will take this ultimate irony. Few of them have any religious faith, yet they will not relish using this final weapon in their campaign against me—that private, good-natured, but fundamentally serious war which lasted all the way from Earth. It amused them to have a Jesuit as chief astrophysicist: Dr. Chandler, for instance, could never get over it. (Why are medical men such notorious atheists?) Sometimes he would meet me on the observation deck, where the lights are always low so that the stars shine with undiminished glory. He would come up to me in the gloom and stand staring out of the great oval port, while the heavens crawled slowly around us as the ship turned over and over with the residual spin we had never bothered to correct.

“Well, Father,” he would say at last, “it goes on forever and forever, and perhaps Something made it. But how you can believe that Something has a special interest in us and our miserable little world—that just beats me.” Then the argument would start, while the stars and nebulae would swing around us in silent, endless arcs beyond the flawlessly clear plastic of the observation port.

It was, I think, the apparent incongruity of my position that cause most amusement among the crew. In vain I pointed to my three papers in the Astrophysical Journal, my five in the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society. I would remind them that my order has long been famous for its scientific works. We may be few now, but ever since the eighteenth century we have made contributions to astronomy and geophysics out of all proportion to our numbers. Will my report on the Phoenix Nebula end our thousand years of history? It will end, I fear, much more than that.

I do not know who gave the nebula its name, which seems to me a very bad one. If it contains a prophecy, it is one that cannot be verified for several billion years. Even the word “nebula” is misleading; this is a far smaller object than those stupendous clouds of mist—the stuff of unborn stars—that are scattered throughout the length of the Milky Way. On the cosmic scale, indeed, the Phoenix Nebula is a tiny thing—a tenuous shell of gas surrounding a single star.

Or what is left of a star. . .

The Rubens engraving of Loyola seems to mock me as it hangs there above the spectrophotometer tracings. What would you, Father, have made of this knowledge that has come into my keeping, so far from the little world that was all the Universe you knew? Would your faith have risen to the challenge, as mine has failed to do?

You gaze into the distance, Father, but I have traveled a distance beyond any that you could have imagined when you founded our order a thousand years ago. No other survey ship has been so far from Earth: we are at the very frontiers of the explored Universe. We set out to reach the Phoenix Nebula, we succeeded, and we are homeward bound with our burden of knowledge. I wish I could lift that burden from my shoulders, but I call to you in vain across the centuries and the light-years that lie between us.

On the book you are holding the words are plain to read. AD MAIOREM DEI GLORIAM, the message runs, but it is a message I can no longer believe. Would you still believe it, if you could see what we have found?

We knew, of course, what the Phoenix Nebula was. Every year, in our Galaxy alone, more than a hundred stars explode, blazing for a few hours or days with hundreds of times their normal brilliance until they sink back into death and obscurity. Such are the ordinary novas—the commonplace disasters of the Universe. I have recorded the spectrograms and light curves of dozens since I started working at the Lunar Observatory.

But three or four times in every thousand years occurs something beside which even a nova pales into total insignificance.

When a star becomes a supernova, it may for a little while outshine all the massed suns of the Galaxy. The Chinese astronomers watched this happen in A.D. 1054, not knowing what it was they saw. Five centuries later, in 1572, a supernova blazed in Cassiopeia so brilliantly that it was visible in the daylight sky. There have been three more in the thousand years that have passed since then.

Our mission was to visit the remnants of such a catastrophe, to reconstruct the events that led up to it, and, if possible, to learn its cause. We came slowly in through the concentric shells of gas that had been blasted out six thousand years before, yet were expanding still. They were immensely hot, radiating even now with a fierce violet light, but were far too tenuous to do us any damage. When the star had exploded, its outer layers had been driven upward with such speed that they had escaped completely from its gravitational field. Now they formed a hollow shell large enough to engulf a thousand solar systems, and at its center burned the tiny, fantastic object which the star had now become—a White Dwarf, smaller than earth, yet weighing a million times as much.

The glowing gas shells were all around us, banishing the normal night of interstellar space. We were flying into the center of the cosmic bomb that had detonated millennia ago and whose incandescent fragments were still hurtling apart. The immense scale of the explosion, and the fact that the debris already covered a volume of space many millions of miles across, robbed the scene of any visible movement. It would take decades before the unaided eye could detect any motion in these tortured wisps and eddies of gas, yet the sense of turbulent expansion was overwhelming.

We had checked our primary drive hours before, and were drifting slowly toward the fierce little star ahead. Once it had been a sun like our own, but it had squandered in a few hours the energy that should have kept it shining for a million years. Now it was a shrunken miser, hoarding its resources as if trying to make amends for its prodigal youth.

No one seriously expected to find planets. If there had been any before the explosion, they would have been boiled into puffs of vapor, and their substance lost in the greater wreckage of the star itself. But we made the automatic search, as we always do when approaching an unknown sun, and presently we found a single small world circling the star at an immense distance. It must have been the Pluto of this vanished Solar System, orbiting on the frontiers of the night. Too far from the central sun ever to have known life, its remoteness had saved it from the fate of all its lost companions.

The passing fires had seared its rocks and burned away the mantle of frozen gas that must have covered it in the days before the disaster. We landed, and we found the Vault.

Its builders had made sure that we should. The monolithic marker that stood above the entrance was now a fused stump, but even the first long-range photographs told us that here was the work of intelligence. A little later we detected the continent-wide pattern of radioactivity that had been buried in the rock. Even if the pylon above the Vault had been destroyed, this would have remained, an immovable and all-but eternal beacon calling to the stars. Our ship fell toward this gigantic bull’s eye like an arrow into its target.

The pylon must have been a mile high when it was built, but now it looked like a candle that had melted down into a puddle of wax. It took us a week to drill through the fused rock, since we did not have the proper tools for a task like this. We were astronomers, not archaeologists, but we could improvise. Our original purpose was forgotten: this lonely monument, reared with such labor at the greatest possible distance from the doomed sun, could have only one meaning. A civilization that knew it was about to die had made its last bid for immortality.

It will take us generations to examine all the treasures that were placed in the Vault. They had plenty of time to prepare, for their sun must have given its first warnings many years before the final detonation. Everything that they wished to preserve, all the fruits of their genius, they brought here to this distant world in the days before the end, hoping that some other race would find it and that they would not be utterly forgotten. Would we have done as well, or would we have been too lost in our own misery to give thought to a future we could never see or share?

If only they had had a little more time! They could travel freely enough between the planets of their own sun, but they had not yet learned to cross the interstellar gulfs, and the nearest Solar System was a hundred light-years away. Yet even had they possessed the secret of the Transfinite Drive, no more than a few millions could have been saved. Perhaps it was better thus.

Even if they had not been so disturbingly human as their sculpture shows, we could not have helped admiring them and grieving for their fate. They left thousands of visual records and the machines for projecting them, together with elaborate pictorial instructions from which it will not be difficult to learn their written language. We have examined many of these records, and brought to life for the first time in six thousand years the warmth and beauty of a civilization that in many ways must have been superior to our own. Perhaps they only showed us the best, and one can hardly blame them. But their worlds were very lovely, and their cities were built with a grace that matches anything of man’s. We have watched them at work and play, and listened to their musical speech sounding across the centuries. One scene is still before my eyes—a group of children on a beach of strange blue sand, playing in the waves as children play on Earth. Curious whiplike trees line the shore, and some very large animal is wading in the shallows, yet attracting no attention at all.

And sinking into the sea, still warm and friendly and life-giving, is the sun that will soon turn traitor and obliterate all this innocent happiness.

Perhaps if we had not been so far from home and so vulnerable to loneliness, we should not have been so deeply moved. Many of us had seen the ruins of ancient civilizations on other worlds, but they had never affected us so profoundly. This tragedy was unique. It is one thing for a race to fail and die, as nations and cultures have done on Earth. But to be destroyed so completely in the full flower of its achievement, leaving no survivors—how could that be reconciled with the mercy of God?

My colleagues have asked me that, and I have given what answers I can. Perhaps you could have done better, Father Loyola, but I have found nothing in the Exercitia Spiritualia that helps me here. They were not an evil people: I do not know what gods they worshiped, if indeed they worshiped any. But I have looked back at them across the centuries, and have watched while the loveliness they used their last strength to preserve was brought forth again into the light of their shrunken sun. They could have taught us much: why were they destroyed?

I know the answers that my colleagues will give when they get back to Earth. They will say that the Universe has no purpose and no plan, that since a hundred suns explode every year in our Galaxy, at this very moment some race is dying in the depths of space. Whether that race has done good or evil during its lifetime will make no difference in the end: there is no divine justice, for there is no God.

Yet, of course, what we have seen proves nothing of the sort. Anyone who argues thus is being swayed by emotion, not logic. God has no need to justify His actions to man. He who built the Universe can destroy it when He chooses. It is arrogance—it is perilously near blasphemy—for us to say what He may or may not do.

This I could have accepted, hard though it is to look upon whole worlds and peoples thrown into the furnace. But there comes a point when even the deepest faith must falter, and now, as I look at the calculations lying before me, I have reached that point at last.

We could not tell, before we reached the nebula, how long ago the explosion took place. Now, from the astronomical evidence and the record in the rocks of that one surviving planet, I have been able to date it very exactly. I know in what year the light of this colossal conflagration reached the Earth. I know how brilliantly the supernova whose corpse now dwindles behind our speeding ship once shone in terrestrial skies. I know how it must have blazed low in the east before sunrise, like a beacon in that oriental dawn.

There can be no reasonable doubt: the ancient mystery is solved at last. Yet, oh God, there were so many stars you could have used. What was the need to give these people to the fire, that the symbol of their passing might shine above Bethlehem?

The End

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Life is always about balance. Here we talk about the money vs freedom balance. Because that is the big tradeoff in America today.

After I exited the US Navy and “hit the road” looking for work (at a time when there were no jobs to be found anywhere) I discovered a number of “life truths” that have reshaped my life since. One of these truths is about personal labor. Where is that “sweet spot”? The point where you work just enough to provide for your family and have a good comfortable life, and yet live a happy unstressful life.
Because…I strongly discovered, as many of you too have as well, that in America it is either all-of-nothing. You either work in a corporate environment, devote a life to a career and obey the dictates of Human Resources in dress, behavior and life, or…
…Or you starve.
There is no “middle ground”.
Now, this is not true for everyone. Over time many people have discovered ways to enable them to somehow skirt the two extremes. While other’s like myself had to learn the “hard way” and didn’t reach that point until retirement.
The American culture is one where it is “every man for himself”, and you are a “success” if you climb to the top of a mountain of money and lord your life over all the rest. It’s the “King of the Jungle” attitude and exemplifies such people as Bill Clinton and Donald Trump.

Today, the base pay of those at the top is commonly 400 times that of their salaried staff, with many earning orders of magnitude more in stock options and perks. The elite one percent of Americans control $30 trillion of assets, while the bottom half have more debt than assets. The three richest Americans have more money than the poorest 160 million of their countrymen. Fully a fifth of American households have zero or negative net worth, a figure that rises to 37 percent for black families. The median wealth of black households is a tenth that of whites. The vast majority of Americans — white, black, and brown — are two paychecks removed from bankruptcy. 

Though living in a nation that celebrates itself as the wealthiest in history, most Americans live on a high wire, with no safety net to brace a fall.

With the COVID crisis, 40 million Americans lost their jobs, and 3.3 million businesses shut down, including 41 percent of all black-owned enterprises. Black Americans, who significantly outnumber whites in federal prisons despite being but 13 percent of the population, are suffering shockingly high rates of morbidity and mortality, dying at nearly three times the rate of white Americans. The cardinal rule of American social policy — don’t let any ethnic group get below the blacks, or allow anyone to suffer more indignities — rang true even in a pandemic, as if the virus was taking its cues from American history.

COVID-19 didn’t lay America low; it simply revealed what had long been forsaken. As the crisis unfolded, with another American dying every minute of every day, a country that once turned out fighter planes by the hour could not manage to produce the paper masks or cotton swabs essential for tracking the disease. The nation that defeated smallpox and polio, and led the world for generations in medical innovation and discovery, was reduced to a laughing stock as a buffoon of a president advocated the use of household disinfectants as a treatment for a disease that intellectually he could not begin to understand.

As a number of countries moved expeditiously to contain the virus, the United States stumbled along in denial, as if willfully blind. With less than four percent of the global population, the U.S. soon accounted for more than a fifth of COVID deaths. The percentage of American victims of the disease who died was six times the global average. Achieving the world’s highest rate of morbidity and mortality provoked not shame, but only further lies, scapegoating, and boasts of miracle cures as dubious as the claims of a carnival barker, a grifter on the make.

...

Odious as he may be, Trump is less the cause of America’s decline than a product of its descent. As they stare into the mirror and perceive only the myth of their exceptionalism, Americans remain almost bizarrely incapable of seeing what has actually become of their country. The republic that defined the free flow of information as the life blood of democracy, today ranks 45th among nations when it comes to press freedom. In a land that once welcomed the huddled masses of the world, more people today favor building a wall along the southern border than supporting health care and protection for the undocumented mothers and children arriving in desperation at its doors. In a complete abandonment of the collective good, U.S. laws define freedom as an individual’s inalienable right to own a personal arsenal of weaponry, a natural entitlement that trumps even the safety of children; in the past decade alone 346 American students and teachers have been shot on school grounds.

The American cult of the individual denies not just community but the very idea of society. No one owes anything to anyone. All must be prepared to fight for everything: education, shelter, food, medical care. What every prosperous and successful democracy deems to be fundamental rights — universal health care, equal access to quality public education, a social safety net for the weak, elderly, and infirmed — America dismisses as socialist indulgences, as if so many signs of weakness.

How can the rest of the world expect America to lead on global threats — climate change, the extinction crisis, pandemics — when the country no longer has a sense of benign purpose, or collective well-being, even within its own national community? 

Flag-wrapped patriotism is no substitute for compassion; anger and hostility no match for love. Those who flock to beaches, bars, and political rallies, putting their fellow citizens at risk, are not exercising freedom; they are displaying, as one commentator has noted, the weakness of a people who lack both the stoicism to endure the pandemic and the fortitude to defeat it. 

Leading their charge is Donald Trump, a bone spur warrior, a liar and a fraud, a grotesque caricature of a strong man, with the backbone of a bully.Over the last months, a quip has circulated on the internet suggesting that to live in Canada today is like owning an apartment above a meth lab. 

Canada is no perfect place, but it has handled the COVID crisis well, notably in British Columbia, where I live. Vancouver is just three hours by road north of Seattle, where the U.S. outbreak began. Half of Vancouver’s population is Asian, and typically dozens of flights arrive each day from China and East Asia. Logically, it should have been hit very hard, but the health care system performed exceedingly well. 

Throughout the crisis, testing rates across Canada have been consistently five times that of the U.S. On a per capita basis, Canada has suffered half the morbidity and mortality. For every person who has died in British Columbia, 44 have perished in Massachusetts, a state with a comparable population that has reported more COVID cases than all of Canada. As of July 30th, even as rates of COVID infection and death soared across much of the United States, with 59,629 new cases reported on that day alone, hospitals in British Columbia registered a total of just five COVID patients.

-Rolling Stone

Which pretty makes it difficult for the “little guy”. You know the one. Like you and I. Where all we want is just to be left alone, do our best to provide for our families, and have a little bit of fun on the side.

And the purpose of a nation, any nation, is to support and protect a society of “little guys” who all are trying to “live life in the pursuit of liberty”.

But you and I both know, that that is not what America is today. It’s a multi-tiered concentration camp. With the strongest mob bosses at top and he rest of us toiling for some scraps that they toss below from their stratospheric heights.

So, is America so corrupted, so out-of-wack that a average, normal, decent guy can’t have a family, a life without working himself to an early grave?

Yes. That’s the way it is.

In the United States, as of 19FEB21. Life expectancy is how long a baby born today can expect to live, on average. For males it was 75.1 years and for females, 80.5 years. The current life expectancy for China in 2021 is 77.13 years, a 0.22% increase from 2020.

No kidding.

The American Military Emprie

Have you ever wondered what it was like to live within a Global Military Empire like Nazi Germany, The British Empire in the 1800’s, and Ancient Babylon? Well, it’s pretty much like the way Americans live today.

There’s always an external threat that needs a war to fight. There’s always an increase , ever rising, in the prices for goods and services, and there’s always a feeling like society is slipping and going down hill. David Copperfield describes the life during the British military empire. And if you add cell-phones, trailer parks, and food-stamps you have America today.

.

And while I can discuss about how one “Hellfire Missile” can build a ton-load of hospitals, rebuild bridges, and feed entire families for a year, consider what other nations are using their treasury dollars on.

I am inside of China, and they are using their monies to build roads, bridges, hospitals. They are upgrading all infrastructure, and building parks. They are updating ferries, and there is a the construction of a new Mag-Lev rocket-train, even faster than the high-speed trains (already criss-crossing the nation), that will go from Shenzhen to Shanghai in three hours. Faster than a direct flight!

Chinese HST
Chinese high speed rail is commonplace all over China.

Local clinics are getting state-of-the art blood analysis equipment and patient diagnostic equipment. Clinics! Not like the USA where you need to get a doctors appointment to get you a hospital appointment, to get an analysis appointment to have anything done.

Blood work for my child, yesterday, occurred in 15 minutes. On site at a clinic. The entire cost was free. Because we are residents of the community. How much would it cost for us int he USA? How long would it take?

That is the difference between a nation that is investing in it’s people, and a Military Empire.

Sent to me by an influencer…

Back to the subject – Work & Life

I argue that when you live in a bad environment, whether it is a military empire, or a concentration camp, you are unable to find a work/life balance. It is just simply not possible. You have either one thing or the other thing. There is no balance.

So people find work-arounds.

If they do not, then they spend their entire life working and them when they reach retirement, they make do with what ever systems the government has in place for their retirement. And for Americans, it’s not good at all.

OK. Here’s a good article about this subject.

All credit to the author, reposted as found. No editing except to fit within this venue.

How to Come to Terms With Working For the Rest of Your Life

This is a question every man has to answer,

How did you come to terms with working full-time for the rest of your life?

I graduated from college this past May and just started my full-time job three weeks ago. I am a salaried employee with a required minimum of 50 working hours per week.

I’m grateful to have a job, but how the hell did you accept the fact that you’ve essentially been born to work? I see very few routes outside of working what feels like endless hours until I’m 60 (optimistic!) and can retire… to just sit around all day because I’m too old to do much of anything else

My friend, 60 is VERY optimistic if you just got out of college because the chances Social Security will be around in its current form by then is basically nil. That means most people that age are likely to work until they die.

All that said, there are a lot of options for what you can do on the working front. In fact, it gets back to my all-time favorite quote.

“There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs.” — Thomas Sowell

The best jobs require a lot of hours. You want to be a CEO, run a successful small business, or be a doctor, you are going to put in some serious hours to do that. You want the big house, the money, the prestige, you are going to have to work for it. You want to live somewhere expensive like NYC or San Francisco, then you should be prepared to work like a dog to make it happen.

If you are willing to forego that and make some lifestyle trade-offs, you may be surprised at what you can do.

For example, if you are outside of the big cities, you can live pretty well working 40 hours a week. Over time, especially if you get married to a woman that works, you can get yourself a house and have a vacation a year, a big-screen TV, and generally live comfortably. If you’re frugal, you can even save up some money doing that. Unfortunately, most people in that position aren’t frugal and they struggle when they get an unexpected bill, but that doesn’t have to be you.

You can take it even further if you like. Back in the day, I once had a roommate who has a fantastic salesman. He worked half the year selling and took the other half of the year off. If you want to live with roommates and keep it cheap, you may be able to squeak by working part-time. If you want to live out in the boonies with a little garden out back and some convenient land nearby for hunting and fishing, you may not have to work forty hours per week to do it.

 

What all this means is that you have real options in life. It just depends on which trade-off you want to make and guess what? The one with the most hours probably isn’t the best for everyone. There are guys who wake up one day in their forties with lots of money, but bad health and no one that cares about them because they have been working 70 hours a week from the time they were young until now. Are they better off than the guy who worked 20 hours a week his whole life, but took care of himself, had friends, and had a happier life? That’s a question you have to ask yourself.

It begins by asking what motivates you, what you want to have in your life and how much of your life you are willing to trade to make that happen.

And isn’t that the case?

What are you going to do? Work like a crazy madman on the quest to become another Donald Trump, Bill Gates, or Steve Jobs? So that you can sit upon billions and billions of dollars, while the nice day beckons outside, the fish are biting, and the cute girls would dearly wish that you would ask her out for a stroll on the beach and a cup of coffee.

Where are your friends? Where are your family in all this? Is that all there is to life? Work as some kind of corporate drone, and then retire as a starving old man?

Maybe there is another way… or, not.

We really need to take a good hard look at what the work environment is inside of America today. And compare it to the work environment in the rest of the world. And let me tell you… it is not pretty.

The following article is reprinted in it’s entirety, and edited to fit this venue. All credit to the authors.

“I’m gonna need you to come in on Saturday”: How “Office Space” got the modern workplace just right

Cubicles, layoffs, TPS report, flair — “Office Space” bombed at the box office, but endures because it was right

By Nikil Saval
The office could be any office. Cove fluorescents on a dimmer, modular shelving, the desk practically an abstraction. The whisper of sourceless ventilation. You are a trained observer and there is nothing to observe.

—David Foster Wallace, "The Pale King"

After the stock market crash, which emptied out the lofts and warehouses of San Francisco, eroding in an instant the frictionless, cloud-kicking fantasies of the dot-commers, another white-collar recession slung into place, and the office seemed to resume its role as the workplace everyone loved to hate.

Few cultural objects expressed this miasma of ill will better than the film “Office Space,” which appeared in 1999 at the very peak of the boom. Its theatrical run was a modest failure, but in retrospect it’s no surprise that a film so relentlessly dark and nasty would be overpowered by the delirium that gripped the end of the millennium.

This picture describes American workers all over America.

(From a reporter visiting a Microsoft annual meeting in 1997: “‘Why  are we at Microsoft? ’ bellowed billionaire Steve Ballmer, then the company’s executive vice president, to a crowd of nine thousand employees packed into the Kingdome, Seattle’s indoor stadium. ‘For  the money! ’ he screamed. ‘Show me the money! ’ The crowd responded with a roar: ‘Show me the money! ’ ”)

Running gags about staplers, misplaced memos, “Hawaiian Shirt Day,” and the specter of working lives wasted in dead-end, purposeless jobs for a gray tech company: no one appeared ready for that sort of humor in an era of raging exuberance—and anyway, the cubicle was dead, right?

Then the bubble burst; people woke up the following morning with their stock options erased; the beanbag chairs were gone, and they were in a cubicle again or unemployed  and desperately searching for a cubicle. “Office Space” found new life on the small screen, a medium that suited the office worker existence depicted in the film: long days huddled in front of a computer, followed by short nights exhausted on the couch, staring at a television.

What is good for the company?

In 1999 it barely recovered its $10 million budget in box office receipts; by 2003, it had become a cult classic, with more than two and a half million copies sold on video. (It screens on Comedy Central with the sort of mindless regularity that suggests a bored television office staff behind  it all. “What  do we fill the 2 to 5 p.m. slot with? ” “Fuck it, let’s just put on ‘Office Space’ again.”)

Everyone knows very happy white-collar people who can quote “Office Space” with as much fervor and accuracy as a pastor does the Gospels, and it’s a plausible  and routine  assumption that  repeated watchings of the film might offer a kind of therapy for stressed office workers:  a vent for an inarticulate rage that helps keep them humming away at bad jobs.

But anecdotally,  at least, it’s led to people quitting their jobs, and one Portland, Oregon, webmaster started a site, Bullshit Job, that doubled  as both a tribute  to the film and a page where workers could post all the insulting memos and e-mails their bosses sent out.

In other words, “Office Space,” and subsequent works in the general fraternity  of office satire, helped office workers recognize themselves as belonging to a particular kind of group—a recognition  that  the office always seemed to deny, since no matter where you were in the office, you were always presumed to be on your  way up. (Think of that line from the Stanwyck  film: “Baby Face is moving out of your class.”) And part of the brilliance of the film was its insistence that the jobs weren’t bad simply because the office workers were oppressed: they were intrinsically bad jobs, in a bad environment.

Promotion for years of dedication to the new office in the basement.
Promotion for years of dedication to the new office in the basement.

The setup for “Office Space” represents a larger shift in the understanding of office life. The paradigmatic narrative had been the entry of the rural woman into urban white-collar life, with its attendant sexual terrors; by mid-century, it was the travails of the middle manager attempting to avoid the conformist spirit of organizational life. But the plot of “Office Space”—reflecting the larger changes in the American economy—is about people being forced to leave an environment they hate, through layoffs; the same is true of the British show “The Office” (called, in an even more insulting euphemism, “redundancies”) and  of the  recent American novels of office life “Then We Came to the End” and “Personal Days.”

The prospect of losing one’s job forces the personal crisis: you come to know who your friends are, what your loyalties are worth, and what your job really is.

In “Office Space,” consultants come to examine the company’s structure  to give it a leaner  form; though their method  is unjust, they really do find people working useless jobs:

BOB SLYDELL ( JOHN C. McGINLEY) : What you do at Initech is you take the specifications from the customers, and you bring them down to the software engineers.

TOM SMYKOWSKI (RICHARD RIEHLE) : Yes, yes, that’s right.

BOB PORTER (PAUL WILLSON) : Well, then, I have to ask—why couldn’t the customers just take them directly to the software people?

TOM: I’ll tell you why. Because engineers are not good at dealing with customers.

SLYDELL: So you physically take the specs from the customer?

TOM : Well . . . no, my secretary does that. Or the fax.

PORTER : So then you must physically bring them to the software people?

TOM : Well, no. I mean, sometimes.

SLYDELL: What would you say you do here?TOM : Well, look, I already told you. I deal with the goddamn customers so the engineers don’t have to. (Screaming.) I have people skills! I am good at dealing with people! Can’t you understand that? What the hell is wrong with you people?

Tom Smykowski is defensive about his job, even though he can’t explain what it is he does. Peter Gibbons (Ron Livingston), the main protagonist, knows that his job—updating software for the Y2K switch—sucks, and he knows that it’s meaningless; from the vantage point of the new millennium, it seems especially useless.

Struggling to explain it to a waitress, Joanna (Jennifer Aniston), he says, “I sit in a cubicle, and I update bank software for the 2000 switch. Well, see they wrote all this bank software, and to save space they used two digits instead of four, so like 98 instead of 1998, uh, so I go through these thousands of lines of code and uh . . . It doesn’t really matter. I don’t like my job.”

Later Peter confesses to the consultants that his average workday consists of coming in fifteen minutes late and “just sort of spac[ing] out for about an hour . . . I do that for about another hour after lunch too. I’d say in a given week, I only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual work.”

The twist is that this honesty is exactly what the consultants prize—a kind of ironized version of the “truth-telling” organization man of “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit.” Though Peter stops showing up to work and wrecks his work space by dismantling his cubicle walls, the consultants offer him a promotion. “[He’s] just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him,” one consultant says to Peter’s boss.

In return, however, they fire two engineers with actual experience, who happen to be Peter’s friends. This sets in motion the increasingly madcap (and implausible) third act, when Peter and his laid-off friends try to program a virus that would scam the company they despise out of thousands of dollars. At the end of the film, one of the company’s disgruntled employees, the sublime mutterer Milton Waddams (Stephen Root), sets the building on fire.

Peter’s engineer friends have moved from Initech to its competitor Initrode; Peter himself takes a blue-collar job in construction—preferring the outdoor life to his stationary warren of cubicles.

“Office Space” occupies such a tremendous place in the American office worker’s imaginary about his workplace it’s a shame that its effect—or the effect of the larger discourse it’s a part of—has tended to be shallow and focused on the cubicle and dumb bosses.

The “space” in “Office Space” was largely a symbol—of an uncaring, even ruthless organization.

Its real targets were the unholy expectations of the modern workplace, which asked for dedication and commitment, offering none in return.

What do you say you do here?

It doubled the force of its condemnation by extending it to other kinds of workplaces. The waitress Joanna works in a chain diner called Chotchkie’s, whose absurd expectations closely resemble those of the office. Part of her job involves donning wacky buttons with slogans and symbols on them, called “flair.” At one point, her boss takes her aside to chastise her about her flair.

STAN (MIKE JUDGE) : Joanna! . . . We need to talk about your flair.

JOANNA : Really? I have fifteen pieces on (demonstrating).

STAN : Fifteen is the minimum, mmkay. It’s up to you whether you want to just do the bare minimum. Brian for example has thirty-seven pieces of flair—and a terrific smile.

JOANNA : Okay, so you want me to wear more?

STAN : (Sighing.) Look, Joanna,  people can get a cheeseburger anywhere, they come to Chotchkie’s for the atmosphere  and the attitude. That’s what the flair’s about. It’s about fun.

JOANNA : So . . . more, then.

STAN : Look, we want you to express yourself. Mmkay? Now, if you feel the bare minimum is enough, well, okay, but some people choose to wear more, and we encourage that. You do want to express yourself, don’t you?

Joanna’s boss occupies the same place as the office consultants: looking for intangible, personality-based outward expressions as signs of being a “straight  shooter”—rather than establishing obvious benchmarks that one meets simply to garner a paycheck.

Her suspenders laden with flair suggest nothing  so much as cubicle walls, decked out to show one’s “individuality.” The human attachments in “Office Space” were so strange and obsessive—Milton and his now infamous need to keep his red Swingline stapler—that it was hard to believe there was anything still left to express.

Those  still immune  to the satire  of flair, however,  are encouraged  to check out  the catalogs of the office supplier  Baudville, which offers, among other  choice items, rhinestone-encrusted lanyards as well as T-shirts  for appreciation weeks with slogans like “Smells like Team Spirit” and “I Put the ‘Zing’ in Amazing.”

After such knowledge as “Office Space” offered, what  orgiveness? How could one acknowledge the essential failure of the office to deliver on its promised utopia—and go on as if nothing had happened?

For many, the question was merely rhetorical:  they were out of work and stringing together temporary gigs as best they could. But for others, the dream of a better office lived on in different ways: some saw technology  as still offering a way of moving office work out of the office, into a broader  sphere of public life; others saw that the office needed to be made vastly more humane and responsive to its increasingly apathetic denizens.

These two paths were united by a single goal: the desire to make work enjoyable, to return it to an innocence that generations of workplace mistakes had rendered corrupt.

In an arresting and bleak phrase, the sociologist Max Weber had described the progress of rationality and scientific demystification as leading to a gradual “disenchantment of the world.” Something like that had happened  to office work: the rosy image of the office as a distinct,  and  distinctly  middle-class, alternative  to the travails  of factory  work  and other  manual  labor  had suffered too many jolts to survive. The office would have to be re-enchanted.

Excerpted from “Cubed: A Secret History of the Workplace” by Nikil Saval.

Nothing new, right?

Ah. You all know about this, and have watched the movie.

And maybe things are changing… at a glacial pace. For those of you who have planned a life independent of the corporate treadmill, you are truly fortunate. You own your own businesses and define your hours to your own liking and your very own familial needs.

But for the rest of us…

…those that were taught in our public schools that the key for success was working hard, getting good grades and working for a company that would take care of us… (and provide us with a great pension)…

…what of us?

The way that white collar workers do their work didn’t just happen that way, but it was a result of deliberate choices – from the architecture of the buildings that the work is done in to the furniture that the workers sit on. I hadn’t thought too deeply about it, thinking that the way things are was just a bit like the way things were, only with computers. I was wrong, and Saval tracks the changes, focused on the United States from the industrial revolution on. The white-collar worker has not been devoid of the standardization and alienation that the blue-collar worker had and rebelled against. The white-collar worker just never saw their white-collar chains; instead, they looked up, hoping to move up the ladder (no matter how false that metaphor is or was).

The potential for striving has, writ large, been the barrier to class to recognition of the white-collar worker for generations. The lack of upward mobility except for into the white-collar ranks is what led to unionism and workers improving their lots. The myth of upward mobility in white-collar terms is a form of social control that is not readily seen.

Saval tracks this, and it makes me think if this has been a deliberate move. As production has been mechanized, there are fewer production workers and more support staff in ancillary roles to production. As more workers move out of production and the workforce is more and more professionalized, white-collar membership is the mass of workers. It is the cube that keeps them apart and alienated. Maybe it is a prison of sorts.

-A Novel History of the Place of Work

What of us?

Where is our “life balance”?

American Work-Life Balance

  • According to the Center for American PROGRESS on the topic of work and family life balance, “in 1960, only 20 percent of mothers worked. Today, 70 percent of American children live in households where all adults are employed.”. U.S. Department of Labor statistics back up this data, and notes that 75% of those women working full time. I don’t care who stays home and who works in terms of gender (work opportunity equality for all – it’s a family choice). Either way, when all adults are working (single or with a partner), that’s a huge hit to the American family and free-time in the American household.
  • The U.S. is the ONLY country in the Americas without a national paid parental leave benefit. The average is over 12 weeks of paid leave anywhere other than Europe and over 20 weeks in Europe.
  • Zero industrialized nations are without a mandatory option for new parents to take parental leave. That is, except for the United States.

American Average Work Hours:

  • At least 134 countries have laws setting the maximum length of the work week; the U.S. does not.
  • In the U.S., 85.8 percent of males and 66.5 percent of females work more than 40 hours per week.
  • According to the ILO, “Americans work 137 more hours per year than Japanese workers, 260 more hours per year than British workers, and 499 more hours per year than French workers.”
  • Using data by the U.S. BLS, the average productivity per American worker has increased 400% since 1950. One way to look at that is that it should only take one-quarter the work hours, or 11 hours per week, to afford the same standard of living as a worker in 1950 (or our standard of living should be 4 times higher). Is that the case? Obviously not. Someone is profiting, it’s just not the average American worker.

American Paid Vacation Time & Sick Time:

The Impact of Too Much Work

I’m not telling you to work less hours. If you genuinely love what you do and are doing it for the right reasons, you are more than entitled to spend all of your waking hours plugging away.

But for many of us, more work leads to more stress and a lower quality of life. Without time to unwind, take care of your home, spend time with loved ones, enjoy our hobbies, connect with friends, and generally live a more balanced life. Stress is the #1 cause of health problems – mentally and physically. And there are few things that stress us out on a consistent basis like work does, especially when it takes away from all of the other things that life has to offer.

Americans are the Outliers

And if all of this data tells anything, it’s that we are the outliers, not the norm. Why are we the outliers?

  • Our companies fairly ruthlessly let people go. We want to keep our jobs and not be a ‘low performer’ compared to others.
  • The decline of the union has led to less paid time off and other leave benefits.
  • Cultural value of money over everything else. We love money, we want more of it, and we think money can buy happiness. And the more we work, the more we get paid.
  • It’s been drilled in our heads that we are lazy compared to emerging market counterpart workers in India, Mexico, China, and other parts of Asia. Who isn’t? And what is our mental image of the work environments in those locales? To validate those fears, our jobs are being outsourced to the cheap labor in those countries. In reality, the U.S. trails only Norway and Luxembourg (2 tiny countries) productivity per person.
  • Our legislative branch of the government (on both sides of the aisle) has been bought and as a result has shied away from passing laws that protect workers that every other industrialized nation has passed.
  • We generally don’t fight for our working rights. We take what is given to us.

What we All Need to Remember

What we all need to remind ourselves is that it doesn’t have to be this way.

  • It’s OK to ask to move to fewer hours at work.
  • It’s OK to take a week-long vacation if we need to.
  • It’s OK to ask to work from home.
  • It’s OK to take a month of unpaid leave while you raise a child.
  • It’s OK… you get the idea.

Don’t let life pass you by in the name of fear, circumstance, greed, or misguided hopes. Sometimes you just need to draw a line in the sand and say “enough is enough”.

And yeah.

I can hear it now…

If you don't like America so much, then leave. 'Merica is the best! Rah Rah Rah.

U.S. Americans’ Work-Life Balance Is Exceedingly Imbalanced

Research shows many Americans who receive paid time off are afraid to take it because of workplace pressures. But it turns out the European vacation mindset could actually help boost productivity.

The European Union’s Working Time Directive guarantees EU workers at least 20 paid vacation days per year, contrary to the United States, which does not have a statutory minimum annual leave requirement. Some European countries mandate additional time off; the UK, France, Austria, Denmark, Finland, Luxembourg, and Sweden all require 25 or more paid annual leave days. OECD data shows more time off doesn’t have to translate to lower productivity. On the contrary, some of the most productive countries, measured by GDP per hour worked, were in Europe.

The United States ranks far lower.

And don’t tell me that there are worst places in the world. Sure there are. But that is not the issue. The issue is [1] what is going wrong, and [2] how to fix it.

Belgium
Workers here enjoy an average of 8.6 hours of leisure per day—which trumps their 7.4-hour work days. Locals really value quality family time, getting home in time for dinner each night, and taking a full month-long vacation over the summer to coincide with school breaks.

Austria

Many offices in Austria have an 8–5 workday—except for Fridays, when employees are encouraged to go home at 3 p.m. Never ending “summer Fridays” aside, the country is also one of the best in the world for people looking to relocate; 80% of expats in Austria said their work-life balance improved since moving there (compared to the 53% global average).

Germany

The German government has several regulations in place to make sure its citizens don’t overwork themselves. And the work-hour regulations (Arbeitszeitgesetz) state that workers cannot put in more than 48 hours a week—or work Sundays or national holidays.

Luxembourg

Working on Sundays is outlawed in Luxembourg (though exceptions include maintenance and security jobs). The country also scores well in the sleep and vacation departments, with citizens getting an average of 7.2 hours of sleep per night and a minimum of five weeks paid annual leave—in addition to national holidays.

Spain

Although many employees do not take advantage of early afternoon siestas there is still an annual vacation allowance of 30 days.

France

French workers spend the most time—9.3 hours per day—devoted to leisure and relaxation. In 2017, France also introduced a law that allows workers the “right to disconnect” from afterhours work emails.

The French work hard, but the OECD thinks that gender inequality in the workplace is holding it back. While 78 percent of women work full-time, they say, “access to the labour [sic] market of mothers of young or large families could be improved but would likely require a more equal share of caring activities between parents.” In other words, women could be having a better work-life balance in France if their partners stepped up their childcare and were given longer paternity leave, and other support structures from their employers. That’s also a factor that affects U.S. families, where paid paternal and maternal leave aren’t mandated by national law.

Finland

At first glance, work hours in Finland look pretty similar to those in the United States: Monday through Friday, 8–5. However, their lunch breaks are one to two hours long. A great advocate of healthy living and rejuvenation, the government gave its citizens four “Nature Days” to celebrate its 100th birthday outdoors.

The Netherlands

Although the Netherlands only gives workers nine bank holidays per year, they compensate with the shortest work week of all the countries surveyed (averaging at 30.3 hours). Add to that 20 to 25 annual vacation days and extremely generous parental leave policies, this makes the Netherlands one of the highest-ranking countries for employees to enjoy a good work-life balance.

According to the OECD, the Netherlands had the best work-life balance in 2018, with Denmark, last year’s winner, losing out narrowly. In every area, the Dutch came out on top.

One of the big factors for the Dutch, says the OECD, is hours worked. “In the Netherlands, less than 0.5 percent of employees work very long hours, the lowest rate in the OECD where the average is one percent,” they write. About one percent of men work very long hours, compared with almost no women.” They define “long hours” as over 50 hours per week.

In the U.S., by comparison, the OECD says that 11 percent of employees put in long slogs, including 16 percent of men and 7 percent of women. The Netherlands has strict working week laws to prevent people working over 60 hours. Dutch culture doesn’t put as much emphasis on working till you’re exhausted, writes Business Culture, and encourages leaving leisure time. “They have clearly defined working hours and they respect them,” Business Culture writes.

You can take sick leave for up to two years and still receive 70 percent of your salary, according to a survey by the employment site Glassdoor. It’s the most generous sick-leave policy in Europe. Compared to the U.S., where there is no policy, it frankly boggles the mind.

Sweden
Sweden enjoys 25 annual vacation days, along with 16 months of paid family leave and 14 bank holidays per year, making it one of the more generous countries in terms of in Europe for employees.

Prisons in Sweden are meant to rehabilitate criminals, which helps explain why the country’s recidivism rate—how frequently people return to prison—is so low. In 2014, it was 40 percent, about half that of the U.S. And Swedish penitentiaries more closely resemble American offices or college dorm rooms than they do prisons, according to The Guardian.

Denmark
Denmark balances salary against cost of living well, and average daily leisure hours (8.8 per day) way outnumber work hours (6.6 per day). According to U.S. News & World Report, this is also the 2nd best country in the world to raise children. Both mothers and fathers are entitled to 23 weeks of parental leave, plus mothers get an extra four weeks of leave before their expected due date.

Unemployed workers in Denmark get 90 percent of previous earnings for up to 104 weeks, the most generous unemployment benefits in the EU, the Glassdoor survey said. This far outpaces the U.S., where unemployment pays 40 to 50 percent of earnings for up to 26 weeks.

Only 0.5% of Dutch employees regularly work very long hours, which is the lowest rate in the OECD, where the average is 13%. Instead, they devote around 16 hours per day to eating, sleeping and leisurely pursuits.

The Netherlands also boasts very low rates of youth unemployment, high literacy levels, below average levels of child income poverty and high levels of life satisfaction in childhood – over 93% of 11-15-year-old children report above average life satisfaction, for instance.

Work responsibilities are also shared among Dutch families, with the number of women in employment doubling from 35% in the early 1980s to 69.9% today, which is well above the OECD average of 57.5%.

There is also a strong sense of community in the Netherlands, where 90% of people say they know a friend or family member they could count on in times of trouble. This is slightly better than the 89% reported across other OECD countries.

Australia

The OECD reports that “when asked to rate their general satisfaction with life on a scale from 0 to 10, Australians gave it a 7.3 grade on average, higher than the OECD average of 6.5.” In the U.S., the grade is 6.9. Comparatively, though, Australia isn’t actually that good at work-life balance.

“Full-time workers devote 60 percent of their day on average, or 14.4 hours, to personal care (eating, sleeping, etc.) and leisure (socialising [sic] with friends and family, hobbies, games, computer and television use, etc.) — less than the OECD average of 15 hours,” says the OECD. It’s only just behind the U.S. in work-life rankings, ranking 32nd to the U.S.’s 31st. Less time for leisure and fun means a less balanced, more stressed country.

Brazil

In Brazil, work-life balance goes in a different direction: while only 7 percent of workers work long hours, the average income is significantly lower than the OECD average, and 64 percent of people have a paid job, compared to 69 percent in the U.S. The Brazilian economy is recovering from a slump, which is why working hours are currently a bit lower than other countries.

Ugh!

The average American works a staggering 1,836 hours a year, which is a good deal more than most of the world. Something something, the American Dream, blah blah blah. But with all that time put in at the office, Americans surely get loads of vacation days to keep them productive and not just freebasing K-cups on a day-to-day basis, right? Wrong. They’re definitely freebasing K-cups.

Compared to other developed nations, Americans get very little — if any — paid vacation time. As a small consolation, they do get approximately 10 days a year off for holidays.

Well, officially, that is.

GM required that you could only take the vacation during the plant shut downs, you had no ability to determine when you could take your vacation. And at that, you were required to keep your phone with you at all times to keep connected to the middle management in case you are needed.

So that’s a big issue.

It results in “burnout”.

Hey! Did you know that “burnout” is an American thing. yeah. Russians, French, and Chinese don’t get it. Just Americans do.

Dear BS Job, three months ago my boss told us that we would produce a draft without discussing the project requirements with the VP first, in our boss’ words to “show we’re innovative”. Then we’d share the project with upper management, “wow them” and “invite feedback”. [Ed: I love how ‘feedback’ basically means ‘harsh criticism’ these days.] We did so, delivered on-time no less, and it sat on the veep’s desk for nearly a month. A week before product launch, VP looks at our draft, tells us it’s all wrong, and we have to redo EVERYTHING! Of course the veep blames our boss and the boss blames us, even though we did everything we were told.

A recent report has found that the United States is the only advanced economy that does not require employers to provide paid vacation time. Almost 1-in-4 Americans do not receive any paid vacation or paid holidays, trailing far behind most of the rest of the world’s rich nations, according to the report.

“No-Vacation Nation Revisited,” released earlier this year by the Center for Economic and Policy Research reviewed the international labor laws impacting paid vacation and holidays in 21 rich nations. The countries included 16 European countries, Australia, Canada, Japan, New Zealand, and the United States, all major economies that are members of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

Some highlights of the report:

For the United States:

  •   Workers have no statutory right to paid vacations.
  • The sum of the average paid vacation and paid holidays provided to workers in the private sector ― 16 in total ― would not meet even the minimum required by law in 19 other rich countries, the report notes.
  • The lack of paid vacation and paid holidays is particularly acute for low-wage workers, part-time workers, and for employees of small businesses. (Workers in  small businesses are less likely to have any paid vacation (69 percent) than those in medium and large establishments (86 percent); only 49 percent of low-wage workers have paid vacation, compared to 90 percent of high-wage workers; part-time workers are far less likely to have paid vacations (35 percent) than full-time workers (91 percent).
  • The gap between paid time off in the United States and the rest of the world is even larger when legal holidays are included. U.S. law does not guarantee any paid holidays, but most rich countries provide between 5 and 13 per year, in addition to paid vacation days.

But Americans are so proud of the USA…

For other rich countries:

  •   Workers in the European Union are legally guaranteed at least 20 paid vacation days per year, with 25 and even 30 or more days in some countries.
  •   Canada and Japan guarantee at least 10 days of paid vacation per year.
  • Five countries even mandate that employers pay vacationing workers a small premium above their standard pay in order to help with vacation-related expenses.
  •   Most other rich countries have also established legal rights to paid holidays over and above paid vacation days.
  •   Several foreign countries offer additional time off for younger and older workers, shift workers, and those engaged in community service including jury duty and for activities like union duties, getting married, or moving.
“The United States is the only advanced economy in the world that does not guarantee its workers paid vacation days and paid holidays,” John Schmitt, senior economist and co-author of the report, said in a statement. “Relying on businesses to voluntarily provide paid leave just hasn’t worked.”

Rebecca Ray and Milla Sanes were co-authors of the study.

The center studied this topic initially in 2007, but since then, little progress has been made, the researchers noted.

“It is striking that six years after we first looked at this topic absolutely nothing has changed. U.S. law and U.S. employer behavior still lags far behind the rest of the rich countries in the world,” Schmitt added.

So let’s get back to “brass tacks”

People need to have a plan to manage their lives within a crazy, ever-changing society. One that is very fast, and proceeding ahead faster and faster with technological advances. You cannot count on work, society, or your government to help you out. You need to plan on how to survive within the confines of what is at your reach.

We need a plan. And it has to be better than fighting over every single penny, and grasping for every little thing.

You have skills. Improve them. Advertise them. Use them.

You are part of community. Embrace your role. Be helpful and supportive of others in your community.

Realize that no one can help you. You are on your own. And as such, strengthen your bonds with others in your local community and make sure that you and your family have a great work/life balance. It is critical for your happiness and critical for your health.

And while other nations, other peoples and other societies have it better than you Americans do, do not get all upset about that. That’s not your problem. Getting to have the same kind of happiness and life balance that they have, is.

It starts with you.

As American culture, society, and industry has become isolated from PEOPLE and their families, so has the American government. This “double tap” has caused a deep impression on the combined American psyche. And it’s not a good one. In fact, I can argue that this effect has been so horrible that it has created a downward spiral with the United States seems to be entrapped within.

Click

There was an Adam Sandler movie made in 2006 titled “Click“.  And this movie take a good comedic look at the Work/life balance that exists within the United States today.

Michael Newman (Sandler) is a hard working family man, who must please his boss (Hasselhoff), in order to get promoted. Problem is he gets less time with his family, and wishes for a remote in which he can control his life. This soon comes true for Newman, when he meets Morty (Walken), a crazy sales clerk, who has the ultimate remote. A remote in which he can do anything, including muting, skipping and dubbing his life. He finds this to be the opportunity in which he can not only skip every argument, but also skip to his promotion. He sees this as a good idea, until the remote goes horribly wrong. 

-Written by Film_Fan

It was Adam Sandler’s most underrated movie.His role was that of a ordinary workaholic of that time trying to put up a better living for his family but he misunderstood his priorities and try to make the family happy but instead went on avoiding their company. It a fine piece of art and a wonderful chemistry of husband and wife.

It’s a comedy, but it’s also a drama. It is something that maybe all of us need to take a good long look at.

Scrooge was granted visions of Christmas Past and Christmas Future, and reformed his life. What happens to Adam Sandler in “Click” is like what happened to Scrooge, except with a lot more Christmases. He needs more than one lesson and he gets more than one lesson. Way more.In “Being There,” the hero Chance has spent all of his life watching television. When he wanders out to freedom and is threatened on the street, he clicks a TV remote control to get another channel.
In “Click,” Sandler plays Michael, an architect who is given a universal remote that’s truly Universal. With it, he can take control of his life: freeze a scene, fast-forward, reverse, mute the sound, select the chapters of his choice and even witness his parents at the moment of his conception (that’s, of course, in the “Making of” documentary).Of course.

 

The movie is being sold as a comedy, but you know what? This isn’t funny. Yes, there are some laughs, as when he finds he can turn the dog’s barking up and down, or play around with the settings for hue and contrast, or when he discovers the picture-in-picture feature that allows him to watch the ballgame no matter what else is going on around him. But the movie essentially involves a workaholic who uses the universal remote to skip over all the bad stuff in his life and discovers in the process that he is missing life itself.

Take away the gimmick of the universal remote, and this is what a lot of us do, and it’s sad.

Yes.

That’s me…

…and yes. That’s you.

It’s not just sad, it’s brutal.

There’s an undercurrent of cold, detached cruelty in the way Michael uses the magical device. He turns off the volume during an argument with his wife. He fast-forwards through a boring family dinner, and later through foreplay. He skips ahead to avoid a bad cold. He jumps to the chapter where he gets a promotion. Eventually, he realizes the family dog has died and been replaced by another, his kids have grown up, his wife is married to someone else, and he weighs 400 pounds. It happened while he wasn’t paying attention.

Surprisingly good 
25 June 2006I walked into the movie theater expecting to see Adam Sandler make a complete buffoon of himself. However, when I came out I was impressed. There was a depth to this movie I did not see coming, and it took me completely off guard. "Click" proved to be a powerful, emotional, and humorous piece of work. There was a certain philosophical message in this movie, in which I think, we all take for granted. Adam Sandler did a great job in playing a work-aholic.

Like many other Sandler movies, this one lingers studiously over bodily functions. After losing enormous amount of weight, for example, Michael plays with a big flap of loose skin around his stomach, plopping it up and down long after any possible audience curiosity has been satisfied. During an argument with his boss (David Hasselhoff), he freeze-frames the boss, jumps on his desk and farts. When he puts his boss back on “play,” the boss inexplicably decides his secretary has put feces in his salad. Anyone who can’t tell poop from lettuce doesn’t deserve to be a senior partner.

They teach you that in business school.

Maybe that’s why she decided to have a sex change.

But I digress…

Michael is surrounded by patient and saintly people. His wife, Donna (Kate Beckinsale), loves him but despairs of reaching him. She has that standard wifely role of complaining when he has to work late and can’t be at the swimming meet/Fourth of July party, etc. Michael’s parents (Henry Winkler and Julie Kavner) are sweet and loving but kvetch too much and talk too slowly, so Michael zaps right through the time he has remaining with them.

Like many of us do.

And then, before we realize it, they are all out of our lives forever.

We went ahead and chased that ‘almighty dollar”. We followed our careers, and we chased after the money to “make a better life for ourselves”, but you all know… it really wasn’t necessary.

As long as you can balance your TIME with your MONEY you will be fine. It is when you mistakenly believe that you need certain “essentials” instead of time with family and friends that things end up going wrong.

Here is the handy-dandy Metallicman cheat-sheet chart to help you all plan out your life…

And where are you on it right now?

It’s a valid question.

Now, let’s compare the work/life balance of Americans to the rest of the world, and let’s include the modern contemporaneous HR limitations about actions and behaviors on employees when they are not at work. Compare the USA work/life balance to the rest of the world…

America is truly the leader …

…in making a lot of money. But how about having a decent life to go along with that money that we all earn? I mean do we all have to end up becoming a mega-billionaire in order to be able to take a day off to watch our sons play a softball game? Do we need to work long, long days all the time, jsut to be able to afford one night out a week in a restaurant?

Think about it people!

The automobile

People now drive these amazingly expensive vehicles. They have all sorts of things. Such as heated seats, power windows, power seat adjustments, wifi, super-charged engines, custom colors and interiors, and all sorts of enhancements. And yeah. That is why they are all so expensive.

And to drive these cars, we all take out loans. Because the cars are so expensive.

But really, if you can get by without a car, you could save an enormous amount of money every month. And then use that money on the down payment on a house that you could rent out instead…

…or not.

The point is that you don’t really need an expensive car. If you have a great life, with great family and fantastic friends, do you REALLY need to have the most expensive car on the block, a ski boat, a pool in the backyard, and a five bedroom, three bath, McMansion?

I argue that you do not.

My co-workers got me a birthday cake, celebration at 3pm in the breakroom. Little did they know (nor did I) that the purpose of my prior meeting at 2pm with my manager was to lay me off. I was escorted out, I am in the parking lot, one of them just texted me now, photo of cake, saying they are “eating it in my memory”. hahaha I even requested that they all wear Hawaiian shirts, including me, so I got fired wearing my f___ing flowery Hawaiian shirt. Needless to say, I got no cake either.

And with that keep in mind that this need for making more and more money is a sickness. It is ingrained in our American culture and it is resulting in some very disturbing trends. Obesity, death rates, addictions, crime, and a general collapse of society. And any one who thinks that this all… this status quo needs to be preserved needs their head examined. It needs to change.

It needs to change.

Change starts with you.

I see cracks in the society that embraces this sickness, and while it all appears worrisome, it shouldn’t be. It should be welcomed. Because change is long, long overdue. America has to change. It’s citizens are dying in the society that the government has constructed for it.

Change starts with you.

Make your life a good one.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my life and happiness index, here…

Life & Happiness

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Various stories about prayer affirmation campaigns, and deviation lessons learned in the process.

Or, some history on how my knowledge about affirmation prayer campaigns developed and evolved over the years. With intentional omission of the the primary drivers – my MAJ involvement, and the need to maintain my sanity. This write-up provides some insight in to how they work, and involves a span of time going back four decades.

Here are just some stores about some of my experiences in conducting prayer affirmations campaigns. They are in no particular order, and have no other ranking aside from their personal illustrations. I think that I have learned lessons from them, and I have applied what I have learned to all my subsequent affirmation campaigns. I think that if I were to relate my stores, you too (dear reader) might learn a thing or two that you can use to put your efforts and your own affirmation campaigns into better focus.

We will begin with a campaign that I had almost completely forgotten about. As it was initiated a decade or more ago, and it was something that I did WHILE I was still within MAJestic. (Performing prayer and affirmations campaigns during my operational years greatly assisted in me keeping my sanity, and being able to have and hold some degree of control over my life.)

So let’s begin with…

Big house, one the beach, with a wine cellar.

Yup. That’s exactly what I asked for. I did so way back in the late 1980’s to middle 1990’s. And since it didn’t materialize within a few years, I thought that it would never materialize.

I was wrong.

It materialized in 2017.

And it was exactly as I specified. It was huge. I mean HUGE (by Chinese standards), perhaps six times larger than the typical middle class household, with an enormous yard (porch). Yes, it overlooked the ocean. Yes, it was roomy and airy, and the walls were white and off yellow-white exactly as I specified (back in the day). And, yes, it even had a wine cellar! In a land where cellars are a rarity, let alone a wine cellar, this one had it, and it too was enormous!

And I loved it when I got it, and I loved the location. I loved how the air moved about the house, the cool and calm location, and my neighbors.

But…

A number of things happened. (And that is life don’t you know.) Nothing bad, or good. Just “neutral”.

First off, let’s confront the “elephant in the room”…

Why did it take 20 to 30 years for this affirmation to manifest?

Best I can figure out is that my goals were way, way outside of my abilities and my lifestyle track. You can ask, wish and dream for all sorts of things, but if your current lifestyle cannot not support them, then you would have to go through some changes to get to that state, and at that time, I was happy with my life. 

I asked for all sorts of things, on the condition that my life would not change.

WTF?

Yes, you read that correct. To make and achieve your desires you will need to go through changes, and changes are always never comfortable. So what you need to do is come up with a staged set of affirmation objectives to get to that point. 

In my life, I had to...

[1] Change my relationships.
[2] Move to the coast.
[3] Change my occupation.
[4] Change my attitude about life.

An only once I had achieved these interim stages were my base line desires and objectives able to materialize. This is true. Don't think that you are going to suddenly have a "lifestyle of the rich and famous" without moving out of your mobile home first.

And then,

Why aren’t I living in this house now?

This is what is funny about life. You think you want one thing, and when you get it, you discover that there are other things that you do not like, or that does not appeal to you. 

For me, when I made the affirmation, I was living in and around Boston. It was a beautiful area, most certainly, but a ride to the beach was a two to three hour drive, and thus I could only go to it on the weekends, and for all practical purposes limited my beach excursions to maybe four times or so a year.

Truthfully, a beach-side home in Massachusetts, even the cheapest and most remote run down broken homes would have run me millions of dollars. It was way, way beyond my means at that time. (And true, it still is. Which is why I don't own a beach-side home in Massachusetts.) 

Now, once you get a beach-side home you learn a few things  about home ownership on a beach. Things, I dare say, that I was unaware of at that time.

Everything gets wet.

Everything.

Condensate collects on the walls. Art, paintings and pictures, warp and get ruined. Clothes never fully dry. Door knobs get sticky with clammy residue, and winter down jackets and clothing starts to deteriorate when stored in plastic bags.

Screws rust.

Mattresses get cold and clammy. Even on sunny warm days. Fog isn't just something that is outside, it is something that you find in the hallway and closets. Tools all rust out. And sand gets into everything.

And while I did enjoy my time in that house, after a while I decided that some place close to the ocean, but not on the beach was more desirable for me, and my family, personally.

So let’s look a little deeper into the drivers behind our desires, and what we want.

It wasn’t what I thought it was.

This is a theme that will come up time and time again when your dreams and wishes manifest. You have one image, one vision of what you want, and when it happens it just isn't the "same thing". Even though it might look and feel just absolutely identical to what you desired.

Somehow I absolutely pictured a cross between the images of Miami Vice, the homes in Cape Cod, and a Hodge-podge of "homes of the wealthy" on television and movies. If you were to quiz me back in 1998, what I wanted, you might see one of those Miami Beach-front homes that resemble a LA mansion overlooking a long stretch of white sand under a blue - blue sky.

Do not laugh.

The television show Miami Vice defined American culture in the 1980’s and 1990’s.

Miami Vice. 
No television series represented the style or dominant cultural aesthetic of the 1980s as fully or indelibly as Miami Vice. A popular one-hour police drama that aired on NBC from 1984 to 1989, Miami Vice was in one sense a conventional buddy-cop show—not unlike Dragnet, Adam 12, and Starsky and Hutch —featuring an interracial pair of narcotics detectives who wage a weekly ...

-Miami Vice | Encyclopedia.com
Television heavily influenced what I thought what I wanted.
Television heavily influenced what I thought what I wanted. Scene is a beach-front mansion (with a wine cellar) on the 1980’s hit television show “Miami Vice”.
Now, you all might think that I was crazy for wanting such a thing. I was doing fine. I had a nice home, cabin, in a small town outside of a state forest in Massachusetts, and it was cozy, nice and I loved Massachusetts.

And that's the way it is.

When you are bombarded with culture and contemporaneous television and movies, you start to see other things, and they are always portrayed in such a way that you can relate to the characters in those flicks. You end up saying "hey! I'm just as good as that guy. Why can't I live that kind of lifestyle, like him?"

Well?

Isn’t that the way it is?

Like all those Instragram Influencers that everyone is jealous of?

Scene from Miami Vice.
Would you believe that I actually owned a (red) convertible with a phone just like this and cruised around back and forth to work wearing a similar style of attire? Yeah. It’s strange, but it was on my affirmation campaign, and so it did actually happen! Just not at the same time as my beach house.
What we think we want, and what we actually (deep down inside) want is often polluted by the media, culture, society and popular culture.

It shapes our thoughts.

That's a DANGER.

For me, I was heavily influenced by the Miami Vice television show of the 1980's. As well as most of America. This influenced what I believed that I could be, aspire to, and what kind of lifestyle that I felt was deserving for me and my family at that time.

Instead of saving money, building a family like what was depicted in television shows of the 1960's...

Leave it to Beaver
The Brady Bunch
The Andy Griffith Show
My Three Sons.
Bewitched
The Dick Van Dyke Show
Mayberry R.F.D

A new kind of narrative took hold. It was one of bright blue skies, fast and expensive cars. Beach houses, attractive girls in bikinis and live fast. It's a narrative where you could like a billionaire while you were still in your 20's. After all, how did some detectives (Miami Vice) get to drive around in a Ferrari?

Anyways, you become what your environment influences you to be….

The 1980s were called the Reagan years, because he was president for eight of them. During his first term, the recession ended. Inflation was controlled. He reduced taxes. Americans felt hopeful that they could make money again.

Observers created several expressions to describe some groups of people at that time. One expression was “the ‘me’ generation”. This described Americans who were only concerned about themselves. Another expression was “yuppie”. It meant “young urban professional”. Both these groups seemed as if they lived just to make and spend money, money, and more money.

Entertainment in the 1980s showed the interest society placed on financial success. The characters in a number of television programs, for example, lived in costly homes, wore costly clothes, and drove costly automobiles. They were not at all like average Americans. They lived lives that required huge amounts of money.

Two of these television programs became extremely popular in the United States and in other countries. They were called “Dallas” and “Dynasty”.

At the movie theater, a very popular film was called “Wall Street”. It was about a young, wealthy, dishonest — powerful — man who traded on the New York Stock Exchange. Power was a popular program idea in action films, too.

And what did this all get me?

Yes…

It got me a corporate life that pretty much fit that image plastered and burned into the skull of just about everyone in the United States.

Scene from Miami Vice.
When television, the most popular television shows, portrayed a working environment with whites and greys, where the management lived inside these white rooms, and you sat facing computer screens, and had projects in big empty bare chambers… they begin to manifest all over America… as a REALITY.

It’s not just work.

It’s everything.

You see, our brains take what we see and watch and change our reality to fit those images. And this can be anything from a desire for a certain kind of house, to a way of dress, and an office space. But it can be anything. Like food for instance…

Other examples of reality deviance from expectation

This next example is a perfect example of how what you wish for might not match what you ask for.

Ah, we all like fine delicious food. And when we think of the wonderful food we have images of our “comfort” foods. Those foods that we grew up with, and that which gave us pleasure and enjoyment. For me, growing up in Western Pennsylvania, these images have always been of pizza, hamburgers, fine Polish – Italian food. Hot crusty buttered rolls.

And of course, being who I am, I wanted MORE!

  • More is better, right?
  • Bigger is better? Eh?
  • Lots is better than a few? Eh?

A few years back I added a simple line statement affirmation to my affirmation lists. I have kept this statement in over the years and I have watched it affect my life. The statement is very simple, but…

But…

… the results were unexpected.

Unexpected.

The statement is…

I eat fine, delicious and healthy food all the time.

Oh, what a change that it has made in my life. I am not at all kidding. It really changed my life. And since I added this statement the number of hamburgers that I would eat, the plates of spaghetti, and the other types of deep fired American food just about “dropped off the cliff” to a point where I rarely eat those items at all any longer.

What!

Is that what I wanted?

No. No. No.

Something else materialized, instead.

Instead, I find myself eating delicious Thai and Hunan food, with imported wine and beer. If I eat Western and American food, instead of it been greasy or fatty deep fried delicious goodness, it’s mostly steaks and fresh sea food.

Fine. Delicious. Healthy. Food.

I said it.

It materialized.

Delicious Thai food.
Since I added this singular affirmation to my various campaigns, my quality of eating has increased enormously, and the type of foods that I used to eat have become fewer and far between. I eat fresh fish, steaks and cooked vegetables. Not so much deep fried chicken and french fries.

Now, I will tell you, the reader, that I was NOT expecting this. Actually, I was expecting a nice run of delicious think subway sandwiches, large platters of delicious mac and cheese with tons of gooey cheese, and deep pan pizza. But that is not what happened. instead, I now find myself eating a higher quality of tasty food with enormous quantities of delicious vegetables, top and choice cuts of meat, and very little in the way of fats.

Funny how things work. Eh?

Remember… what your eyes see, what your thoughts create, and what those around you think about… becomes what you will experience.

From the movie My Cousin Vinny.
Typical small town Southern community. This is in Georgia.

Deviance is obvious when it involves material objects

The difference between what you ask for, and what you actually get is obvious when your affirmation revolves around material objects. This can be a car, a home, a location, a boat…

Here we look at how thoughts change your reality and generate new ones. And it's any thoughts, and any passions. Not just those associated with prayer campaigns.

This one is seemingly about boats. Ships. Sailing.

Seemingly.

When I lived in Indiana, I had this dream about sailing to the South Pacific and exploring the islands there. At that time in my life, I worked in the “corporate world” and it was every bit as real as the movie “Office Space”. It was the same. The same bland colors, the same irritating people, the same grayness.

And like “Joe”, in the movie “Joe vs the Volcano”, I longed to escape it.

Scene from the movie office space.
The movie “Office Space” has a cult following simply because it is more than just a comedy. It is a snapshot of what American corporate life was like for millions of us back in the 1980’s and 1990’s. It was awful, and the truth is that many of the “so called” humorous” elements in the movie actually occurred to us on a regular basis.

Ah, but sailing…

Now that was an adventure.

So, I read a ton load of books, on the subject and subscribed to all sorts of magazines related to sailing and the cruising lifestyle. And many a cold frosty day stuck in the icy sub-arctic weather of a horrific Indiana winter was spent thinking, reading, day dreaming and planning of traveling all over the world in a boat.

No. I did not devise an affirmation campaign to manifest this desire.

But I thought about it all the time. I talked about it all the time. It was not just my hobby at that time, it was my obsession.

Now, thoughts create your reality.

Right?

Thoughts create your reality. Whether they are planned and formalized as in a prayer campaign, or just seemingly “random” as in a passion or an obsession.

Scene from Office Space.
For millions of us “cubicle warriors” the type of lifestyle that was depicted in the movie “Office Space” was a reality. It was a harsh reality, and what made the money such a hit is that it gave us participants a chance to step back, and look at the lives that we were living from a third-person perspective.

And while I argue that you need to utilize formal affirmation prayer campaigns to focus your desires into a materialization of your desires in the reality, you can use many other techniques to make this happen. Often, you aren’t aware that you are manifesting and creating such realities.

Now, all this focus and all these thoughts had created various manifestations.

I ended up meeting people who were building and constructing their very own ocean-sailing yachts. yes! In rural Indiana of all places. They would be building these large metal vessels in their back yards, in barns and on flatbed trucks. Each time I met them, I felt closer to my dream, and felt that I could live a more rewarding life than what I was on track for…

…the clutching for the almighty dollar.

Scene from the movie "Joe vs the volcano".
Scene from the movie “Joe vs the Volcano”. Joe arrives at work. And deals with the stress at his job, his company and his life.

It was great seeing other people who were working on their “escape plan”. Many of them had formulated their dreams and desires over the years and had spent decades building their vessels from which they could change their lives and go onto adventures with.

So, naturally, something happened.

I bought a boat.

No, not an ocean sailing yacht. I was in Indiana, for goodness sakes! But I bought a power boat for the local lakes in Indiana. It was a 18 foot ski-boat, and it was beautiful. We (my wife and I) named it “Going Coconuts”, and we kept it at a large lake about an hour drive North of where we lived in Kokomo, Indiana.

And even though it was a small ski boat, it taught us things about the boating lifestyle that we were not thinking about all the times we read, and lived the dream of sailing. All sorts of things. And things that we were unaware of while we were sitting and reading those fine glossy magazines on sailing.

  • Boats require licensing just like cars do.
  • They require loan payments as well.
  • And insurance.
  • And you only get to ride in them a few precious times of the year…
  • But you need to store them somewhere, and that costs money.
  • They need more care and maintenance than a car requires.
  • And they are a lot of work to keep clean.

Somehow, all those articles kind of glossed over these points. And while they talked about doing this repair, and paying that cost, We were unprepared for the shear magnitude of time, effort and cost to maintain the boat. It was almost like a big hole that you ended up throwing your money into.

"A boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money” is a popular saying that has been printed on gift items, such as T-shirts and posters. “A yacht, they say, is a hole in the water surrounded by wood into which money is poured” has been cited in print since at least 1961 and is of unknown authorship.

-The Big Apple: “A boat is a hole in the water into which ...

After buying the boat, I was beginning to think that my thoughts and dreams were misplaced. That perhaps I was yearning for something that the purchase of THINGS cannot repair…

And then… came a movie.

Captain Ron

Captain Ron.
This screen splash says it all.
Caroline Harvey: Captain Ron, I was wondering. Are we going to be going to any more "human" type places?
Captain Ron: Well, you heard of St. Croix?
Caroline Harvey: Yeah.
Captain Ron: We're going to the island just to the left of it.
Caroline Harvey: What's it called?
Captain Ron: Ted's.

Let’s talk about the movie “Captain Ron”. You see at that time, in my life, I yearned for a life that was more adventuresome and exciting than living the “Office Space” existence that I had at Delco Electronics.

Delco Electronics designed and developed automobile electronics, computers and systems for GM. It was an enormous facility that was the absolute clone of the horror of (the movie) "Office Space". It had the worst aspects of the enormous General Motors culture in the nightmarish existence of Silicon Valley smack dab in the middle of the flat corn belt of Indiana.

And then the movie “Captain Ron” appeared.

This is wonderful movie, and one of my favorite movies of all time!

A family inherits a sailboat and decides to flee the urban rat race. They don’t realize that they will have to over come many hurdles, including aspects of them selves, Capt. Ron, the boat and the environment. It’s a movie about adventure, change, and a reappraisal of your values and why your work so hard for what you think is important to you.

Captain Ron.
Captain Ron discusses one issue or the other with the new owners of the schooner.

.

Captain Ron Rico is about as laid back as laid back can be.

[as Ben, who's 12, moves Captain Ron's beer]

Captain Ron: 
Hey. Get your hands off that.

Benjamin Harvey: 
I was just moving it. I wasn't gonna drink it.

Captain Ron: 
You bet your little booty, you wasn't. You want a beer, you get your own beer.

-- Captain Ron

He’s an ex Navy carrier driver whose been through one too many squalls, not to mention a stint in rehab.

A treasure chest of worldly knowledge, he’s never at a loss to relate his exploits even when it comes to his glass eye, “Won it in a crap game a few years back.”

Yah.

[Lost in a heavy storm]

Captain Ron: 
The boss is right. We should be okay. 'Cause I know we're near land.

Martin Harvey: 
Great, Cap. Great. Ya hear that? We're almost there. Explain to the kids how you know that, Captain Ron. Someone translate for General Armando.

Captain Ron: 
Alright, now stay with me: When we left, we had just enough fuel to make it to San Juan. And now... we are out of fuel!

At first glance he’s a man you wouldn’t trust to float an inner tube, but as he proves to Martin Short throughout the course of the movie, he’s “far more cunning than first suspected.” After all, you gotta love a guy who as he’s sipping beer with Short’s young son, he tells the young lad that he just caught his parents “Playing hide-the-salami in the shower.”

Martin Harvey: 
Slow down! There's boats all over the place!

Captain Ron: 
Don't worry. They'll get out of the way. I learned that driving the Saratoga.

The daughter plays a teenager that is simultaneously apathetic and nearly out of control. The son is a kid who hasn’t taken an interest in life until now. The father assumes that Capt. Ron can’t know anything while the family begins to believe that it’s the father who doesn’t know anything.

Captain Ron: 
[telling how he lost his eye] Yeah, it happened when I went down off the coast of Australia.

Katherine Harvey: 
Your boat sank?

Captain Ron: 
No, no, no, no. Not my boat. My boss's boat. Yeah, we hit this reef. Huge son-of-a-bitch. Ran the whole coast.

Katherine Harvey: 
Wait. The Great Barrier Reef?

Captain Ron: 
You've heard of it, huh? Smart lady.
The son in Captain Ron.
After a while the Influence of Captain Ron affects everyone, and even the son seems to have been influenced by the antics and behaviors of Captain Ron.
Captain Ron: 
[to Ben] Hey swab. C'mere. Listen up. Now, the way it works shipboard is, you do your job. You do it good, you get a better job. Maybe you get promoted from swab to mate.
[Ben nods]

Captain Ron: 
Alright. Get on it.

Captain Ron: 
[to Martin] Sort've an incentive kind of a deal, huh?

Martin Harvey: 
Ah. Good.

Captain Ron: 
Yeah, incentives are important. 
I learned that in rehab.

By the end of the movie, I actually found myself nostalgic for the sense of freedom and fun that only Captain Ron can steer you towards…

This movie was one of the triggers to me moving away…

…far, far away from the corporate life, and mindless pursuits of more and more money, and more and more things.

[Approaching Martin and Katherine in a holding cell on San Juan]

Bill Zachary: 
Mr. and Mrs. Harvey? I'm Bill Zachary from the U.S. State Department. I've got some good news for you.

Katherine Harvey: 
Oh. You found our children.

Bill Zachary: 
No. But you're not being charged with subversion.

What’s really going on?

Was it really that I wanted to build a boat, that I wanted to sail the world? That I wanted to partake in the adventure of skippers and the ocean breezes? Or was it something else?

Was it that I was so tired of the bland corporate life…

And the sterile sameness and pleasantries of Central Indiana…

… flat…

…bland …

Typical Indiana.
Typical Indiana.

… pleasant ….

…made “good” money….

…that my soul was screeching and screaming for some “LIFE” and some excitement! That maybe I just wanted some “color” in my life. Some fun. Something different. Something that would alert my senses…

…something “real”…

…anything, really…

…and without anyone to guide me…

…I reached out to things that appealed to me, but that weren’t really practical and in tune with my real and direct needs.

Long story short…

I conducted an affirmation prayer campaign, and within a very short period of time, say nine months…

…I moved.

And I moved to really interesting places. And my first stop was the very unique and colorful Hattiesburg, Mississippi. And let me tell you’se guys something serious. This is a great and unique and super dooper colorful area.

Doc Hollywood

We generally do not know where our affirmation campaigns will take us. That is, unless we are specific in our destinations. At that time, I knew in my heart and soul that a serous change was required and that I was unhappy where I was, and while I was eating and sleeping well, I was also miserable. It was not the life that I wanted. It was far too clean, far too boring, and far too bland.

So I wanted excitement.

Or, maybe, not “excitement. I wanted a change. I wanted a more colorful area, with more interesting people, more tasty choices in food instead of the McDonald’s, or other clone restaurants that had displaced all the family diners and changed them to Applebys, and Pantera Bread chains.

I was tired of manicured lawns. Cinder-block stores, with the same prices, the same canned music, the same types of cars, in the same colors and shapes. I was tired of every house having a red door, a General Motors made car, and a mail box that they bought from Lowe’s.

I was tired of McMansions.

I was tired of corporate life. Corporate radio (and at that time, big corporations bought all the radio stations in Central Indiana, and played a rotating 50 songs over, and over, and over…)

I was tired of Maggie May!

My soul was screaming for … change!

And what manifested was sort of unexpected. It was very much like a cross between Mayberry RFD (The television show.) and the movie Doc Hollywood.

Like I said.

Unexpected.

Doc Hollywood

Scene from Doc Hollywood.
Hattiesburg, MS resembled the scenes within the Movie Doc Hollywood. It was uncanny. What’s more, it wasn’t Mc-anything. Everything was authentic. Everything was “real” with substance, and a genuine nature that was the opposite of “corporate”.
I have to laugh! 
Thubanstar8 December 2004

I have to laugh at all the comments on this board which say this movie's plot or the characters are not "plausible".

I live near the town this movie was shot in, (I was an extra for one day, and a "stand in" for two days on this film. It was neat!) and believe me, the characters are not only believable, you can meet versions of them in small towns all through the south.

There is a big difference between city and deep country life. Maybe people in very urban areas and countries tend to forget that. Quite honestly, I know several people down here in the boonies who make the folk of "Grady" look downright sophisticated.

That criticism shot down, I just have to say it's a really sweet film. It has a lot of atmosphere and some good character development, even in the minor roles. It portrays small, small town America pretty accurately and with a great deal of charm.

Dr. Ben Stone is leaving DC for a job doing plastic surgery for celebs in LA when he runs into a picket fence in a small Southern town and has to do 3 days of community service at their clinic as penance.

His fancy sports car is totaled anyway and he has to get it fixed.

Miffed at being waylaid in such a hokey place, he tries to get through the next few days in time for his new job.

Scene from Doc Hollywood.
There’s a real charm in the deep South. And it was like a refreshing burst of fresh air compared to the stifling conformity of corporate life in Indiana.

.

He meets a wide cast of characters — and to their credit, not everyone in a small town is so gosh-friendly. Some are mean, some are troubled, some are nice — like any other array of people. Ben meets Lou, a single mother who drives the ambulance, as well as Nancy Lee Nicholson, a confused beauty who wants him to take her to LA.

In a town full of colorful characters, two ‘stars in the making’ stand out; Woody Harrelson, as ‘Lou’s’ suitor, Hank Gordon, a country variation of his bartending character from ‘Cheers’, talks dumb but has a knack for selling, only lacking a place to make big money at it; and Bridget Fonda, as Mayor Nicholson’s oversexed but ‘out of place’ daughter, hopes Stone will take her away to the bright lights of Hollywood.

For me, the movie was a representation of my life in Hattiesburgh.

Actually, if you all want to get "technical". I lived in Pervis. Which was a small town outside of Hattiesburg.
Scene from Doc Hollywood.
Yes. The citizens of Hattiesburg Mississippi pretty much resembled those portrayed in Grady in the movie “Doc Hollywood”.
I have watched Doc Hollywood umpteen times and like it more each time . macpherr20 October 1999

To most people this movie is about a small town in the South. To me that one small town street is the place where my husband and I used to day dreaming about buying antique furniture after he would finish graduate school at the University of Florida, in Gainesville, Florida. 

The movie location, the one street town of Micanopy, is just a few miles away from Gainesville. 

They show the entire downtown! 

As I have watched Doc Hollywood umpteen times, I love to see the corner store, which was a jewelry store called the Strawberry Bank specializing in antique jewelry about seventeen years ago. I would put stuff on lay-way as graduate students could not afford the luxury of buying something faster. 

Then we would drive around those back roads full of trees and Spanish moss and eat an early dinner: fried cat fish, fried okra, rice, and whatever fresh thing they had that our small stomachs could contain. 

It was such a great time in our lives! 

That area is surrounded by students. I guess we did not realize how little we had as graduate students, since we were even able to afford an off-campus apartment! Everybody else had about the same youth and enthusiasm and we were looking to our bright futures. 

I would go to the library and get books on antiques furniture, old lace and antique jewelry. I would audit French classes, take classes in jewelry making techniques: such as lost wax and casting. 

I learned so much about life in that town, and biked until I ended up tan without ever sitting in the sun.

Like Michael J. Fox (The American President) "Dr. Benjamin Stone," I was fascinated with the big city. Coming from one of the largest cities in the world, I just wondered what I was going to do after I finished my classes as a Visiting Student at the UF. 

Well after living there for about four years, I learned much more than what graduate school could ever teach. 

Like Dr. Stone, I fell in love with the place, I would not mind having a pig named Jasmine, I fell in love with the quilt making, the silence, the southern hospitality, and how "they all" thought I had an accent. 

I can even do a pretty good southern accent now myself! 

Every once in while a celebrity would come to town like Sally Fields (Forest Gump) raising support for a project that her brother a physics professor at UF was working on. Those college folk, they sure come up with strange ideas. That was so cool!

Julie Warner (Mr. Saturday Night) "Lou" was so adorable with her down to earth attitude. 
A catfish dinner.
A mainstay meal in Mississippi; the fried catfish dinner with chips, slaw, and pickled tomatoes with hush-puppies.
I loved to see the Mayor dressed like a squash. That is the South!

This is an excellent movie.

It has values. Ben Stone realized that being a Doctor in a small town might even mean having to read to your clients personal letters to them because they could not read.

He in the end realizes that being needed is far more important than money.

My favorite quotes: " Watch your language Doc, you are in the belt of the Bible belt."

Stone: "There were cows in the middle of the road! I told you my insurance company will be happy to pay for that fence."

Judge:"I built that fence myself. Neither you, nor, your insurance company can pay for a fence that I built myself."

My favorite scenes: the one street in Micanopy, the cute wooden cabin, the little old ladies quilting and arguing.

Ben Stone and Lou driving around on that old huge ambulance, and acting like real animals demarcating their territories by scent. They would urinate and distribute the liquid around to detract deer that would attract the hunters.

My husbands favorite scene is Julie Warner slowing rising from under water when she was skinny dipping. Not lewd, but enchanting.

Well we are going to "visit all " the relatives down south and eat fresh catfish in some back road "ma &pa restaurant." I guess " you all" have to go buy or rent this movie.

This movie is great because it is about many people deciding for themselves how they want to live — whether in a big city or in a small town — and why they value what they do. It is also about an epiphany for Ben Stone and changing of his ways internally.

And that’s pretty much what I moved to.

A super nice small community with it’s own unique (and very different) culture, society and food. And it was refreshing! Absolutely and positively refreshing!

The point here is that you need to leave your affirmation campaigns wide open so that things that you are not aware of, but that meet your deepest desires are able to manifest. If you are too specific, you might end up with a house like what you see on television, and not like one that your really want.

Here’s what Hattiesburg was sort of like…

Rural Mississippi. Very nice.
Rural Mississippi. Very nice.

Now…

There’s many things that I can say and lessons to be learned. But at this point we will park this conversation here for a spell.

And the rest of the story here…

Eventually, I had to leave my position in Hattiesburg. Which was really sad. It happened when there was a restructuring in the corporate office (in Chicago) and they input new management in (from Silicon Valley) who remade the entire working environment…

…wait for it…

…yet another clone of “Office Space”.

Ugh!

Office Space.
And suddenly, just like that (snaps fingers) I was living in corporate America all over again, as a “power” yellow-tie corporate executive remade my Mississippi company into a clone of Silicon Valley.

So…

Some trends are too large, and too invasive to escape from. It’s like trying to run away from sweat. It will form, and the only thing that you can do is try to get / make yourself comfortable.

Ugh.

Conclusion

My skills in regards to affirmation / prayer campaigns were honed over four decades out of necessity. It was like I was on this churning, bobbing, sea of turmoil that was frequently trying to push me under. And my only way to maintain sanity was to take control of my thoughts and actions. And over time, I realized just how critical the control of my thoughts were.

Indeed, if I were not careful others, and other things would change and alter my thoughts to something else, and something quite different. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

Gosh and golly, there are so many lessons here, some of which I spelled out to you, the reader, and others that you might be able to see if you read between the lines. It is our thoughts, and the shadow thoughts of others which can make our lives great, or a Hellish experience. Our only recourse is to control the barrage of thoughts to something that we can manage.

Be careful of your affirmations. What you think you want, might not be what you earnestly truly want deep down inside. It’s like the guy who says that he want’s a “big dick”, when in reality, he just wants a lot of sex. Be real, and be truthful with yourself.

This was my story.

I am sure that you have your own stories that you can add to this. For life is a very interesting journey. And learning, and experiencing life is our duty.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Affirmation Index here…

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Gulf (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

This is a nice little story by Robert Heinlein. It’s a fun read on a boring day. It is a very Poul Andersonish kind of story. A super-spy discovers he is a part of a super society, and perhaps a part of a race that would overcome humanity.

 GULF 

THE FIRST-QUARTER ROCKET from Moonbase put him down at Pied-a-Terre. The name he was traveling under began—by foresight—with the letter “A”; he was through port inspection and into the shuttle tube to the city ahead of the throng. Once in the tube car he went to the men’s washroom and locked himself in.

Quickly he buckled on the safety belt he found there, snapped its hooks to the wall fixtures, and leaned over awkwardly to remove a razor from his bag. The surge caught him in that position; despite the safety belt he bumped his head—and swore. He straightened up and plugged in the razor. His moustache vanished; he shortened his sideburns, trimmed the corners of his eyebrows, and brushed them up.

He towelled his hair vigorously to remove the oil that had sleeked it down, combed it loosely into a wavy mane. The car was now riding in a smooth, unaccelerated 300 mph; he let himself out of the safety belt without unhooking it from the walls and, working very rapidly, peeled off his moonsuit, took from his bag and put on a tweedy casual outfit suited to outdoors on Earth and quite unsuited to Moon Colony’s air-conditioned corridors.

His slippers he replaced with walking shoes from the bag; he stood up. Joel Abner, commercial traveler, had disappeared; in his place was Captain Joseph Gilead, explorer, lecturer, and writer. Of both names he was the sole user; neither was his birth name.

He slashed the moonsuit to ribbons and flushed it down the water closet, added “Joel Abner’s” identification card; then peeled a plastic skin off his travel bag and let the bits follow the rest. The bag was now pearl grey and rough, instead of dark brown and smooth. The slippers bothered him; he was afraid they might stop up the car’s plumbing. He contented himself with burying them in the waste receptacle.

The acceleration warning sounded as he was doing this; he barely had time to get back into the belt. But, as the car plunged into the solenoid field and surged to a stop, nothing remained of Joel Abner but some unmarked underclothing, very ordinary toilet articles, and nearly two dozen spools of microfilm equally appropriate—until examined—to a commercial traveler or a lecturer-writer. He planned not to let them be examined as long as he was alive.

He waited in the washroom until he was sure of being last man out of the car, then went forward into the next car, left by its exit, and headed for the lift to the ground level.

“New Age Hotel, sir,” a voice pleaded near his ear. He felt a hand fumbling at the grip of his travel bag.

He repressed a reflex to defend the bag and looked the speaker over. At first glance he seemed an under-sized adolescent in a smart uniform and a pillbox cap. Further inspection showed premature wrinkles and the features of a man at least forty. The eyes were glazed. A pituitary case, he thought to himself, and on the hop as well. “New Age Hotel,” the runner repeated. “Best mechanos in town, chief. There’s a discount if you’re just down from the moon.”

Captain Gilead, when in town as Captain Gilead, always stayed at the old Savoy. But the notion of going to the New Age appealed to him; in that incredibly huge, busy, and ultramodern hostelry he might remain unnoticed until he had had time to do what had to be done.

He disliked mightily the idea of letting go his bag. Nevertheless it would be out of character not to let the runner carry the bag; it would call attention to himself—and the bag. He decided that this unhealthy runt could not outrun him even if he himself were on crutches; it would suffice to keep an eye on the bag.

“Lead on, comrade,” he answered heartily, surrendering the bag. There had been no hesitation at all; he had let go the bag even as the hotel runner reached for it.

“Okay, chief.” The runner was first man into an empty lift; he went to the back of the car and set the bag down beside him. Gilead placed himself so that his foot rested firmly against his bag and faced forward as other travelers crowded in. The car started.

The lift was jammed; Gilead was subjected to body pressures on every side—but he noticed an additional, unusual, and uncalled-for pressure behind him.

His right hand moved suddenly and clamped down on a skinny wrist and a hand clutching something. Gilead made no further movement, nor did the owner of the hand attempt to draw away or make any objection. They remained so until the car reached the surface. When the passengers had spilled out he reached behind him with his left hand, recovered his bag and dragged the wrist and its owner out of the car.

It was, of course, the runner; the object in his fist was Gilead’s wallet. “You durn near lost that, chief,” the runner announced with no show of embarrassment. “It was falling out of your pocket.”

Gilead liberated the wallet and stuffed it into an inner pocket. “Fell right through the zipper,” he answered cheerfully. “Well, let’s find a cop.”

The runt tried to pull away. “You got nothing on me!”

Gilead considered the defense. In truth, he had nothing. His wallet was already out of sight. As to witnesses, the other lift passengers were already gone—nor had they seen anything. The lift itself was automatic. He was simply a man in the odd position of detaining another citizen by the wrist. And Gilead himself did not want to talk to the police.

He let go that wrist. “On your way, comrade. We’ll call it quits.”

The runner did not move. “How about my tip?”

Gilead was beginning to like this rascal. Locating a loose half credit in his change pocket he flipped it at the runner, who grabbed it out of the air but still didn’t leave. “I’ll take your bag now. Gimme.”

“No, thanks, chum. I can find your delightful inn without further help. One side, please.”

“Oh, yeah? How about my commission? I gotta carry your bag, else how they gonna know I brung you in? Gimme.”

Gilead was delighted with the creature’s unabashed insistence. He found a two-credit piece and passed it over. “There’s your cumshaw. Now beat it, before I kick your tail up around your shoulders.”

“You and who else?”

Gilead chuckled and moved away down the concourse toward the station entrance to the New Age Hotel. His subconscious sentries informed him immediately that the runner had not gone back toward the lift as expected, but was keeping abreast him in the crowd. He considered this. The runner might very well be what he appeared to be, common city riff-raff who combined casual thievery with his overt occupation. On the other hand—

He decided to unload. He stepped suddenly off the sidewalk into the entrance of a drugstore and stopped just inside the door to buy a newspaper. While his copy was being printed, he scooped up, apparently as an afterthought, three standard pneumo mailing tubes. As he paid for them he palmed a pad of gummed address labels.

A glance at the mirrored wall showed him that his shadow had hesitated outside but was still watching him. Gilead went on back to the shop’s soda fountain and slipped into an unoccupied booth. Although the floor show was going on—a remarkably shapely ecdysiast was working down toward her last string of beads—he drew the booth’s curtain.

Shortly the call light over the booth flashed discreetly; he called, “Come in!” A pretty and very young waitress came inside the curtain. Her plastic costume covered without concealing.

She glanced around. “Lonely?”

“No, thanks, I’m tired.”

“How about a redhead, then? Real cute—”

“I really am tired. Bring me two bottles of beer, unopened, and some pretzels.”

“Suit yourself, sport.” She left.

With speed he opened the travel bag, selected nine spools of microfilm, and loaded them into the three mailing tubes, the tubes being of the common three-spool size. Gilead then took the filched pad of address labels, addressed the top one to “Raymond Calhoun, P.O. Box 1060, Chicago” and commenced to draw with great care in the rectangle reserved for electric-eye sorter. The address he shaped in arbitrary symbols intended not to be read, but to be scanned automatically. The hand-written address was merely a precaution, in case a robot sorter should reject his hand-drawn symbols as being imperfect and thereby turn the tube over to a human postal clerk for readdressing.

He worked fast, but with the care of an engraver. The waitress returned before he had finished. The call light warned him; he covered the label with his elbow and kept it covered.

She glanced at the mailing tubes as she put down the beer and a bowl of pretzels. “Want me to mail those?”

He had another instant of split-second indecision. When he had stepped out of the tube car he had been reasonably sure, first, that the persona of Joel Abner, commercial traveler, had not been penetrated, and, second, that the transition from Abner to Gilead had been accomplished without arousing suspicion. The pocket-picking episode had not alarmed him, but had caused him to reclassify those two propositions from calculated certainties to unproved variables. He had proceeded to test them at once; they were now calculated certainties again—of the opposite sort. Ever since he had spotted his erstwhile porter, the New Age runner, as standing outside this same drugstore his subconscious had been clanging like a burglar alarm.

It was clear not only that he had been spotted but that they were organized with a completeness and shrewdness he had not believed possible.

But it was mathematically probable to the point of certainty that they were not operating through this girl. They had no way of knowing that he would choose to turn aside into this particular drugstore. That she could be used by them he was sure—and she had been out of sight since his first contact with her. But she was clearly not bright enough, despite her alley-cat sophistication, to be approached, subverted, instructed and indoctrinated to the point where she could seize an unexpected opportunity, all in a space of time merely adequate to fetch two bottles of beer. No, this girl was simply after a tip. Therefore she was safe.

But her costume offered no possibility of concealing three mailing tubes, nor would she be safe crossing the concourse to the post office. He had no wish that she be found tomorrow morning dead in a ditch.

“No,” he answered immediately. “I have to pass the post office anyway. But it was a kind thought. Here.” He gave her a half credit.

“Thanks.” She waited and stared meaningfully at the beer. He fumbled again in his change pocket, found only a few bits, reached for his wallet and took out a five-pluton note.

“Take it out of this.”

She handed him back three singles and some change. He pushed the change toward her, then waited, frozen, while she picked it up and left. Only then did he hold the wallet closer to his eyes.

It was not his wallet.

He should have noticed it before, he told himself. Even though there had been only a second from the time he had taken it from the runner’s clutched fingers until he had concealed it in a front pocket, he should have known it—known it and forced the runner to disgorge, even if he had had to skin him alive.

But why was he sure that it was not his wallet? It was the proper size and shape, the proper weight and feel—real ostrich skin in these days of synthetics. There was the weathered ink stain which had resulted from carrying a leaky stylus in the same pocket. There was a V-shaped scratch on the front which had happened so long ago he did not recall the circumstances.

Yet it was not his wallet.

He opened it again. There was the proper amount of money, there were what seemed to be his Explorers’ Club card and his other identity cards, there was a dog-eared flat-photo of a mare he had once owned. Yet the more the evidence, showed that it was his, the more certain he became that it was not his. These things were forgeries; they did not feel right.

There was one way to find out. He flipped a switch provided by a thoughtful management; the booth became dark. He took out his penknife and carefully slit a seam back of the billfold pocket. He dipped a finger into a secret pocket thus disclosed and felt around; the space was empty—nor in this case had the duplication of his own wallet been quite perfect; the space should have been lined, but his fingers encountered rough leather.

He switched the light back on, put the wallet away, and resumed his interrupted drawing. The loss of the card which should have been in the concealed pocket was annoying, certainly awkward, and conceivably disastrous, but he did not judge that the information on it was jeopardized by the loss of the wallet. The card was quite featureless unless examined by black light; if exposed to visible light—by someone taking the real wallet apart, for example—it had the disconcerting quality of bursting explosively into flame.

He continued to work, his mind busy with the wider problem of why they had taken so much trouble to try to keep him from knowing that his wallet was being stolen—and the still wider and more disconcerting question of why they had bothered with his wallet. Finished, he stuffed the remainder of the pad of address labels into a crack between cushions in the booth, palmed the label he had prepared, picked up the bag and the three mailing tubes. One tube he kept separate from the others by a finger.

No attack would take place, he judged, in the drugstore. The crowded concourse between himself and the post office he would ordinarily have considered equally safe—but not today. A large crowd of people, he knew, are equal to so many trees as witnesses if the dice were loaded with any sort of a diversion.

He slanted across the bordering slidewalk and headed directly across the middle toward the post office, keeping as far from other people as he could manage. He had become aware of two men converging on him when the expected diversion took place.

It was a blinding light and a loud explosion, followed by screams and startled shouts. The source of the explosion he could imagine; the screams and shouts were doubtless furnished free by the public. Being braced, not for this, but for anything, he refrained even from turning his head.

The two men closed rapidly, as on cue.

Most creatures and almost all humans fight only when pushed. This can lose them decisive advantage. The two men made no aggressive move of any sort, other than to come close to Gilead—nor did they ever attack.

Gilead kicked the first of them in the knee cap, using the side of his foot, a much more certain stroke than with the toe. He swung with his travel bag against the other at the same time, not hurting him but bothering him, spoiling his timing. Gilead followed it with a heavy kick to the man’s stomach.

The man whose knee cap he had ruined was on the pavement, but still active—reaching for something, a gun or a knife. Gilead kicked him in the head and stepped over him, continued toward the post office.

Slow march—slow march all the way! He must not give the appearance of running away; he must be the perfect respectable citizen, going about his lawful occasions.

The post office came close, and still no tap on the shoulder, no denouncing shout, no hurrying footsteps. He reached the post office, was inside. The opposition’s diversion had worked, perfectly—but for Gilead, not for them.

There was a short queue at the addressing machine. Gilead joined it, took out his stylus and wrote addresses on the tubes while standing. A man joined the queue almost at once; Gilead made no effort to keep him from seeing what address he was writing; it was “Captain Joseph Gilead, the Explorers’ Club, New York.” When it came his turn to use the symbol printing machine he still made no effort to conceal what keys he was punching—and the symbol address matched the address he had written on each tube.

He worked somewhat awkwardly as the previously prepared gummed label was still concealed in his left palm.

He went from the addressing machine to the mailing receivers; the man who had been behind him in line followed him without pretending to address anything.

Thwonk! and the first tube was away with a muted implosion of compressed air. Thwonk! again and the second was gone—and at the same time Gilead grasped the last one in his left hand, sticking the gummed label down firmly over the address he had just printed on it. Without looking at it he made sure by touch that it was in place, all corners sealed, then thwonk! it joined its mates.

Gilead turned suddenly and trod heavily on the feet of the man crowded close behind him. “Wups! pardon me.” he said happily and turned away. He was feeling very cheerful; not only had he turned his dangerous charge over into the care of a mindless, utterly reliable, automatic machine which could not be coerced, bribed, drugged, nor subverted by any other means and in whose complexities the tube would be perfectly hidden until it reached a destination known only to Gilead, but also he had just stepped on the corns of one of the opposition.

On the steps of the post office he paused beside a policeman who was picking his teeth and staring out at a cluster of people and an ambulance in the middle of the concourse. “What’s up?” Gilead demanded.

The cop shifted his toothpick. “First some damn fool sets off fireworks,” he answered, “then two guys get in a fight and blame near ruin each other.”

“My goodness!” Gilead commented and set off diagonally toward the New Age Hotel.

He looked around for his pick-pocket friend in the lobby, did not see him. Gilead strongly doubted if the runt were on the hotel’s staff. He signed in as Captain Gilead, ordered a suite appropriate to the persona he was wearing, and let himself be conducted to the lift.

Gilead encountered the runner coming down just as he and his bellman were about to go up. “Hi, Shorty!” he called out while deciding not to eat anything in this hotel. “How’s business?”

The runt looked startled, then passed him without answering, his eyes blank. It was not likely, Gilead considered, that the runt would be used after being detected; therefore some sort of drop box, call station, or headquarters of the opposition was actually inside the hotel. Very well, that would save everybody a lot of useless commuting—and there would be fun for all!

In the meantime he wanted a bath.

In his suite he tipped the bellman who continued to linger.

“Want some company?”

“No, thanks, I’m a hermit.”

“Try this then.” The bellman inserted Gilead’s room key in the stereo panel, fiddled with the controls, the entire wall lighted up and faded away. A svelte blonde creature, backed by a chorus line, seemed about to leap into Gilead’s lap. “That’s not a tape,” the bellman went on, “that’s a live transmission direct from the Tivoli. We got the best equipment in town.”

“So you have,” Gilead agreed, and pulled out his key. The picture blanked; the music stopped. “But I want a bath, so get out—now that you’ve spent four credits of my money.”

The bellman shrugged and left. Gilead threw off his clothes and stepped into the “fresher.” Twenty minutes later, shaved from ear to toe, scrubbed, soaked, sprayed, pummeled, rubbed, scented, powdered, and feeling ten years younger, he stepped out. His clothes were gone.

His bag was still there; he looked it over. It seemed okay, itself and contents. There were the proper number of microfilm spools—not that it mattered. Only three of the spools mattered and they were already in the mail. The rest were just shrubbery, copies of his own public lectures. Nevertheless he examined one of them, unspooling a few frames.

It was one of his own lectures all right—but not one he had had with him. It was one of his published transcriptions, available in any large book store. “Pixies everywhere,” he remarked and put it back. Such attention to detail was admirable.

“Room service!”

The service panel lighted up. “Yes, sir?”

“My clothes are missing. Chase ’em up for me.”

“The valet has them, sir.”

“I didn’t order valet service. Get ’em back.”

The girl’s voice and face were replaced, after a slight delay, by those of a man. “It is not necessary to order valet service here, sir. ‘A New Age guest receives the best.’ ”

“Okay, get ’em back—chop, chop! I’ve got a date with the Queen of Sheba.”

“Very good, sir.” The image faded.

With wry humor he reviewed his situation. He had already made the possibly fatal error of underestimating his opponent through—he now knew—visualizing that opponent in the unimpressive person of “the runt.” Thus he had allowed himself to be diverted; he should have gone anywhere rather than to the New Age, even to the old Savoy, although that hotel, being a known stamping ground of Captain Gilead, was probably as thoroughly booby-trapped by now as this palatial dive.

He must not assume that he had more than a few more minutes to live. Therefore he must use those few minutes to tell his boss the destination of the three important spools of microfilm. Thereafter, if he still were alive, he must replenish his cash to give him facilities for action—the amount of money in “his” wallet, even if it were returned, was useless for any major action. Thirdly, he must report in, close the present assignment, and be assigned to his present antagonists as a case in themselves, quite aside from the matter of the microfilm.

Not that he intended to drop Runt & Company even if not assigned to them. True artists were scarce—nailing him down by such a simple device as stealing his pants! He loved them for it and wanted to see more of them, as violently as possible.

Even as the image on the room service panel faded he was punching the scrambled keys on the room’s communicator desk. It was possible—certain—that the scramble code he used would be repeated elsewhere in the hotel and the supposed privacy attained by scrambling thereby breached at once. This did not matter; he would have his boss disconnect and call back with a different scramble from the other end. To be sure, the call code of the station to which he was reporting would thereby be breached, but it was more than worthwhile to expend and discard one relay station to get this message through.

Scramble pattern set up, he coded—not New Washington, but the relay station he had selected. A girl’s face showed on the screen. “New Age service, sir. Were you scrambling?”

“Yes.”

“I am ve-ree sor-ree, sir. The scrambling circuits are being repaired. I can scramble for you from the main board.”

“No, thanks, I’ll call in clear.”

“I yam ve-ree sor-ree, sir.”

There was one clear-code he could use—to be used only for crash priority. This was crash priority. Very well—

He punched the keys again without scrambling and waited. The same girl’s face appeared presently. “I am verree sorree, sir; that code does not reply. May I help you?”

“You might send up a carrier pigeon.” He cleared the board.

The cold breath on the back of his neck was stronger now; he decided to do what he could to make it awkward to kill him just yet. He reached back into his mind and coded in clear the Star-Times.

No answer.

He tried the Clarion—again no answer.

No point in beating his head against it; they did not intend to let him talk outside to anyone. He rang for a bellman, sat down in an easy chair, switched it to “shallow massage”, and luxuriated happily in the chair’s tender embrace. No doubt about it; the New Age did have the best mechanos in town—his bath had been wonderful; this chair was superb. Both the recent austerities of Moon Colony and the probability that this would be his last massage added to his pleasure.

The door dilated and a bellman came in—about his own size, Gilead noted. The man’s eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch on seeing Gilead’s oyster-naked condition. “You want company?”

Gilead stood up and moved toward him. “No, dearie,” he said grinning, “I want you”—at which he sank three stiffened fingers in the man’s solar plexus.

As the man grunted and went down Gilead chopped him in the side of the neck with the edge of his hand.

The shoulders of the jacket were too narrow and the shoes too large; nevertheless two minutes later “Captain Gilead” had followed “Joel Abner” to oblivion and Joe, temporary and free-lance bellman, let himself out of the room. He regretted not being able to leave a tip with his predecessor.

He sauntered past the passengers lifts, firmly misdirected a guest who had stopped him, and found the service elevator. By it was a door to the “quick drop.” He opened it, reached out and grasped a waiting pulley belt, and, without stopping to belt himself into it, contenting himself with hanging on, he stepped off the edge. In less time than it would have taken him to parachute the drop he was picking himself up off the cushions in the hotel basement and reflecting that lunar gravitation surely played hob with a man’s leg muscles.

He left the drop room and started out in an arbitrary direction, but walking as if he were on business and belonged where he was—any exit would do and he would find one eventually.

He wandered in and out of the enormous pantry, then found the freight door through which the pantry was supplied.

When he was thirty feet from it, it closed and an alarm sounded. He turned back.

He encountered two policemen in one of the many corridors under the giant hotel and attempted to brush on past them. One of them stared at him, then caught his arm. “Captain Gilead—”

Gilead tried to squirm away, but without showing any skill in the attempt. “What’s the idea?”

“You are Captain Gilead.”

“And you’re my Aunt Sadie. Let go of my arm, copper.”

The policeman fumbled in his pocket with his other hand, pulled out a notebook. Gilead noted that the other officer had moved a safe ten feet away and had a Markheim gun trained on him.

“You, Captain Gilead,” the first officer droned, “are charged on a sworn complaint with uttering a counterfeit five-pluton note at or about thirteen hours this date at the Grand Concourse drugstore in this city. You are cautioned to come peacefully and are advised that you need not speak at this time. Come along.”

The charge might or might not have something to it, thought Gilead; he had not examined closely the money in the substituted wallet. He did not mind being booked, now that the microfilm was out of his possession; to be in an ordinary police station with nothing more sinister to cope with than crooked cops and dumb desk sergeants would be easy street compared with Runt & Company searching for him.

On the other hand the situation was too pat, unless the police had arrived close on his heels and found the stripped bellman, gotten his story and started searching.

The second policeman kept his distance and did not lower the Markheim gun. That made other consideration academic. “Okay, I’ll go,” he protested. “You don’t have to twist my arm that way.”

They went up to the weather level and out to the street—and not once did the second cop drop his guard. Gilead relaxed and waited. A police car was balanced at the curb. Gilead stopped. “I’ll walk,” he said. “The nearest station is just around the corner. I want to be booked in my own precinct.”

He felt a teeth-chattering chill as the blast from the Markheim hit him; he pitched forward on his face.

He was coming to, but still could not coordinate, as they lifted him out of the car. By the time he found himself being half-carried, half-marched down a long corridor he was almost himself again, but with a gap in his memory. He was shoved through a door which clanged behind him. He steadied himself and looked around.

“Greetings, friend,” a resonant voice called out “Drag up a chair by the fire.”

Gilead blinked, deliberately slowed himself down, and breathed deeply. His healthy body was fighting off the effects of the Markheim bolt; he was almost himself.

The room was a cell, old-fashioned, almost primitive. The front of the cell and the door were steel bars; the walls were concrete. Its only furniture, a long wooden bench, was occupied by the man who had spoken. He was fiftyish, of ponderous frame, heavy features set in a shrewd, good-natured expression. He was lying back on the bench, head pillowed on his hands, in animal ease. Gilead had seen him before. “Hello, Dr. Baldwin.”

The man sat up with a flowing economy of motion that moved his bulk as little as possible. “I’m not Dr. Baldwin—I’m not Doctor anything, though my name is Baldwin.” He stared at Gilead. “But I know you—seen some of your lectures.”

Gilead cocked an eyebrow. “A man would seem naked around the Association of Theoretical physicists without a doctor’s degree—and you were at their last meeting.”

Baldwin chuckled boomingly. “That accounts for it—that has to be my cousin on my father’s side, Hartley M.—Stuffy citizen Hartley. I’ll have to try to take the curse off the family name, now that I’ve met you, Captain.” He stuck out a huge hand. “Gregory Baldwin, ‘Kettle Belly’ to my friends. New and used helicopters is as close as I come to theoretical physics. ‘Kettle Belly Baldwin, King of the Kopters’—you must have seen my advertising.”

“Now that you mention it, I have.”

Baldwin pulled out a card. “Here. If you ever need one, I’ll give you a ten percent off for knowing old Hartley. Matter of fact, I can do right well by you in a year-old Curtiss, a family car without a mark on it.”

Gilead accepted the card and sat down. “Not at the moment, thanks. You seem to have an odd sort of office, Mr. Baldwin.”

Baldwin chuckled again. “In the course of a long life these things happen, Captain. I won’t ask you why you are here or what you are doing in that monkey suit. Call me Kettle Belly.”

“Okay.” Gilead got up and went to the door. Opposite the cell was a blank wall; there was no one in sight. He whistled and shouted—no answer.

“What’s itching you, Captain?” Baldwin asked gently.

Gilead turned. His cellmate had dealt a solitaire hand on the bench and was calmly playing.

“I’ve got to raise the turnkey and send for a lawyer.”

“Don’t fret about it. Let’s play some cards.” He reached in a pocket. “I’ve got a second deck; how about some Russian bank?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got to get out of here.” He shouted again—still no answer.

“Don’t waste your lung power, Captain,” Baldwin advised him. “They’ll come when it suits them and not a second before. I know. Come play with me; it passes the time.” Baldwin appeared to be shuffling the two decks; Gilead could see that he was actually stacking the cards. The deception amused him; he decided to play—since the truth of Baldwin’s advice was so evident.

“If you don’t like Russian bank,” Kettle Belly went on, “here is a game I learned as a kid.” He paused and stared into Gilead’s eyes. “It’s instructive as well as entertaining, yet it’s simple, once you catch on to it.” He started dealing out the cards. “It makes a better game with two decks, because the black cards don’t mean anything. Just the twenty-six red cards in each deck count—with the heart suit coming first. Each card scores according to its position in that sequence. The ace of hearts is one and the king of hearts counts thirteen; the ace of diamonds is next at fourteen and so on. Savvy?”

“Yes.”

“And the blacks don’t count. They’re blanks . . . spaces. Ready to play?”

“What are the rules?”

“We’ll deal out one hand for free; you’ll learn faster as you see it. Then, when you’ve caught on, I’ll play you for a half interest in the atomics trust—or ten bits in cash.” He resumed dealing, laying the cards out rapidly in columns, five to a row. He paused, finished. “It’s my deal, so it’s your count. See what you get.”

It was evident that Baldwin’s stacking had brought the red cards into groups, yet there was no evident advantage to it, nor was the count especially high—nor low. Gilead stared at it, trying to figure out the man’s game. The cheating, as cheating seemed too bold to be probable.

Suddenly the cards jumped at him, arranged themselves in a meaningful array. He read:

XTHXY

CANXX

XXXSE

HEARX

XUSXX

The fact that there were only two fives-of-hearts available had affected the spelling but the meaning was clear. Gilead reached for the cards. “I’ll try one. I can beat that score.” He dipped into the tips belonging to the suit’s owner. “Ten bits it is.”

Baldwin covered it. Gilead shuffled, making even less attempt to cover up than had Baldwin. He dealt:

WHATS

XXXXX

XYOUR

GAMEX

XXXXX

Baldwin shoved the money toward him and anted again. “Okay, my turn for revenge.” He laid out:

XXIMX

XONXX

YOURX

XXXXX

XSIDE

“I win again,” Gilead announced gleefully. “Ante up.” He grabbed the cards and manipulated them:

YEAHX

XXXXX

PROVE

XXITX

XXXXX

Baldwin counted and said, “You’re too smart for me. Gimme the cards.” He produced another ten-bit piece and dealt again:

XXILX

HELPX

XXYOU

XGETX

OUTXX

“I should have cut the cards,” Gilead complained, pushing the money over. “Let’s double the bets.” Baldwin grunted and Gilead dealt again:

XNUTS

IMXXX

SAFER

XXINX

XGAOL

“I broke your luck,” Baldwin gloated. “We’ll double it again?”

XUXRX

XNUTS

THISX

NOXXX

XJAIL

The deal shifted:

KEEPX

XTALK

INGXX

XXXXX

XBUDX

Baldwin answered:

THISX

XXXXX

XXNEW

AGEXX

XHOTL

As he stacked the cards again Gilead considered these new factors. He was prepared to believe that he was hidden somewhere in the New Age Hotel; in fact the counterproposition that his opponents had permitted two ordinary cops to take him away to a normal city jail was most unlikely—unless they had the jail as fully under control as they quite evidently had the hotel. Nevertheless the point was not proven. As for Baldwin, he might be on Gilead’s side; more probably he was planted as an agent provocateur—or he might be working for himself.

The permutations added up to six situations, only one of which made it desirable to accept Baldwin’s offer for help in a jail break—said situation being the least likely of the six.

Nevertheless, though he considered Baldwin a liar, net, he tentatively decided to accept. A static situation brought him no advantage; a dynamic situation—any dynamic situation—he might turn to his advantage. But more data were needed. “These cards are sticky as candy,” he complained. “You letting your money ride?”

“Suits.” Gilead dealt again:

XXXXX

WHYXX

AMXXX

XXXXI

XHERE

“You have the damnedest luck,” Baldwin commented:

FILMS

ESCAP

BFORE

XUXXX

KRACK

Gilead swept up the cards, was about to “shuffle,” when Baldwin said, “Oh oh, school’s out.” Footsteps could be heard in the passage. “Good luck, boy,” Baldwin added.

Baldwin knew about the films, but had not used any of the dozen ways to identify himself as part of Gilead’s own organization. Therefore he was planted by the opposition, or he was a third factor.

More important, the fact that Baldwin knew about the films proved his assertion that this was not a jail. It followed with bitter certainty that he, Gilead, stood no computable chance of getting out alive. The footsteps approaching the cell could be ticking off the last seconds of his life.

He knew now that he should have found means to report the destination of the films before going to the New Age. But Humpty Dumpty was off the wall, entropy always increases—but the films must be delivered.

The footsteps were quite close.

Baldwin might get out alive.

But who was Baldwin?

All the while he was “shuffling” the cards. The action was not final; he had only to give them one true shuffle to destroy the message being set up in them. A spider settled from the ceiling, landed on the other man’s hand. Baldwin, instead of knocking it off and crushing it, most carefully reached his arm out toward the wall and encouraged it to lower itself to the floor. “Better stay out of the way, shorty,” he said gently, “or one of the big boys is likely to step on you.”

The incident, small as it was, determined Gilead’s decision—and with it, the fate of a planet. He stood up and handed the stacked deck to Baldwin. “I owe you exactly ten-sixty,” he said carefully. “Be sure to remember it—I’ll see who our visitors are.”

The footsteps had stopped outside the cell door.

There were two of them, dressed neither as police nor as guards; the masquerade was over. One stood well back, covering the maneuver with a Markheim, the other unlocked the door. “Back against the wall, Fatso,” he ordered. “Gilead, out you come. And take it easy, or, after we freeze you, I’ll knock out your teeth just for fun.”

Baldwin shuffled back against the wall; Gilead came out slowly. He watched for any opening but the leader backed away from him without once getting between him and the man with the Markheim. “Ahead of us and take it slow,” he was ordered. He complied, helpless under the precautions, unable to run, unable to fight.

Baldwin went back to the bench when they had gone. He dealt out the cards as if playing solitaire, swept them up again, and continued to deal himself solitaire hands. Presently he “shuffled” the cards back to the exact order Gilead had left them in and pocketed them.

The message had read: XTELLXFBSXPOBOXDEBT XXXCHI.

His two guards marched Gilead into a room and locked the door behind him, leaving themselves outside. He found himself in a large window overlooking the city and a reach of the river; balancing it on the left hung a solid portraying a lunar landscape in convincing color and depth. In front of him was a rich but not ostentatious executive desk.

The lower part of his mind took in these details; his attention could be centered only on the person who sat at that desk. She was old but not senile, frail but not helpless. Her eyes were very much alive, her expression serene. Her translucent, well-groomed hands were busy with a frame of embroidery.

On the desk in front of her were two pneumo mailing tubes, a pair of slippers, and some tattered, soiled remnants of cloth and plastic.

She looked up. “How do you do, Captain Gilead?” she said in a thin, sweet soprano suitable for singing hymns.

Gilead bowed. “Well, thank you—and you, Mrs. Keithley?”

“You know me, I see.”

“Madame would be famous if only for her charities.”

“You are kind. Captain, I will not waste your time. I had hoped that we could release you without fuss, but—” She indicated the two tubes in front of her “—you can see for yourself that we must deal with you further.”

“So?”

“Come, now, Captain. You mailed three tubes. These two are only dummies, and the third did not reach its apparent destination. It is possible that it was badly addressed and has been rejected by the sorting machines. If so, we shall have it in due course. But it seems much more likely that you found some way to change its address—likely to the point of pragmatic certainty.”

“Or possibly I corrupted your servant.”

She shook her head slightly. “We examined him quite thoroughly before—”

“Before he died?”

“Please, Captain, let’s not change the subject. I must know where you sent that other tube. You cannot be hypnotized by ordinary means; you have an acquired immunity to hypnotic drugs. Your tolerance for pain extends beyond the threshold of unconsciousness. All of these things have already been proved, else you would not be in the job you are in; I shall not put either of us to the inconvenience of proving them again. Yet I must have that tube. What is your price?”

“You assume that I have a price.”

She smiled. “If the old saw has any exceptions, history does not record them. Be reasonable, Captain. Despite your admitted immunity to ordinary forms of examination, there are ways of breaking down—of changing—a man’s character so that he becomes really quite pliant under examination . . . ways that we learned from the commissars. But those ways take time and a woman my age has no time to waste.”

Gilead lied convincingly. “It’s not your age, ma’am; it is the fact that you know that you must obtain that tube at once or you will never get it.” He was hoping—more than that, he was willing—that Baldwin would have sense enough to examine the cards for one last message . . . and act on it. If Baldwin failed and he, Gilead, died, the tube would eventually come to rest in a dead-letter office and would in time be destroyed.

“You are probably right. Nevertheless, Captain, I will go ahead with the Mindszenty technique if you insist upon it. What do you say to ten million plutonium credits?”

Gilead believed her first statement. He reviewed in his mind the means by which a man bound hand and foot, or worse, could kill himself unassisted. “Ten million plutons and a knife in my back?” he answered. “Let’s be practical.”

“Convincing assurance would be given before you need talk.”

“Even so, it is not my price. After all, you are worth at least five hundred million plutons.”

She leaned forward. “I like you, Captain. You are a man of strength. I am an old woman, without heirs. Suppose you became my partner—and my successor?”

“Pie in the sky.”

“No, no! I mean it. My age and sex do not permit me actively to serve myself; I must rely on others. Captain, I am very tired of inefficient tools, of men who can let things be spirited away right from under their noses. Imagine! She made a little gesture of exasperation, clutching her hand into a claw. “You and I could go far, Captain. I need you.”

“But I do not need you, madame. And I won’t have you.”

She made no answer, but touched a control on her desk. A door on the left dilated; two men and a girl came in. The girl Gilead recognized as the waitress from the Grand Concourse Drug Store. They had stripped her bare, which seemed to him an unnecessary indignity since her working uniform could not possibly have concealed a weapon.

The girl, once inside, promptly blew her top, protesting, screaming, using language unusual to her age and sex—a hysterical, thalmic outburst of volcanic proportions.

“Quiet, child!”

The girl stopped in midstream, looked with surprise at Mrs. Keithley, and shut up. Nor did she start again, but stood there, looking even younger than she was and somewhat aware of and put off stride by her nakedness. She was covered now with goose flesh, one tear cut a white line down her dust-smeared face, stopped at her lip. She licked at it and sniffled.

“You were out of observation once, Captain,” Mrs. Keithley went on, “during which time this person saw you twice. Therefore we will examine her.”

Gilead shook his head. “She knows no more than a goldfish. But go ahead—five minutes of hypno will convince you.”

“Oh, no, Captain! Hypno is sometimes fallible; if she is a member of your bureau, it is certain to be fallible.” She signaled to one of the men attending the girl; he went to a cupboard and opened it. “I am old-fashioned,” the old woman went on. “I trust simple mechanical means much more than I do the cleverest of clinical procedures.”

Gilead saw the implements that the man was removing from cupboard and started forward. “Stop that!” he commanded. “You can’t do that—”

He bumped his nose quite hard.

The man paid him no attention. Mrs. Keithley said, “Forgive me, Captain. I should have told you that this room is not one room, but two. The partition is merely glass, but very special glass—I use the room for difficult interviews. There is no need to hurt yourself by trying to reach us.”

“Just a moment!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Your time is already running out. Let the girl and me go free now. You are aware that there are several hundred men searching this city for me even now—and that they will not stop until they have taken it apart panel by panel.”

“I think not. A man answering your description to the last factor caught the South Africa rocket twenty minutes after you registered at the New Age Hotel. He was carrying your very own identifications. He will not reach South Africa, but the manner of his disappearance will point to desertion rather than accident or suicide.”

Gilead dropped the matter. “What do you plan to gain by abusing this child? You have all she knows; certainly you do not believe that we could afford to trust in such as she?”

Mrs. Keithley pursed her lips. “Frankly, I do not expect to learn anything from her. I may learn something from you.”

“I see.”

The leader of the two men looked questioning at his mistress; she motioned him to go ahead. The girl stared blankly at him, plainly unaware of the uses of the equipment he had gotten out. He and his partner got busy.

Shortly the girl screamed, continued to scream for a few moments in a high adulation. Then it stopped as she fainted.

They roused her and stood her up again. She stood, swaying and staring stupidly at her poor hands, forever damaged even for the futile purposes to which she had been capable of putting them. Blood spread down her wrists and dripped on a plastic tarpaulin, placed there earlier by the second of the two men.

Gilead did nothing and said nothing. Knowing as he did that the tube he was protecting contained matters measured in millions of lives, the problem of the girl, as a problem, did not even arise. It disturbed a deep and very ancient part of his brain, but almost automatically he cut that part off and lived for the time in his forebrain.

Consciously he memorized the faces, skulls, and figures of the two men and filed the data under “personal.” Thereafter he unobtrusively gave his attention to the scene out the window He had been noting it all through the interview but he wanted to give it explicit thought. He recast what he saw in terms of what it would look like had he been able to look squarely out the window and decided that he was on the ninety-first floor of the New Age Hotel and approximately one hundred and thirty meters from the north end. He filed this under “professional.”

When the girl died, Mrs. Keithley left the room without speaking to him. The men gathered up what was left in the tarpaulin and followed her. Presently the two guards returned and, using the same foolproof methods, took him back to his cell.

As soon as the guards had gone and Kettle Belly was free to leave his position against the wall he came forward and pounded Gilead on the shoulders. “Hi, boy! I’m sure glad to see you—I was scared I would never lay eyes on you again. How was it? Pretty rough?”

“No, they didn’t hurt me; they just asked some questions.”

“You’re lucky. Some of those crazy damn cops play mean when they get you alone in a back room. Did they let you call your lawyer?”

“No.”

“Then they ain’t through with you. You want to watch it, kid.”

Gilead sat down on the bench. “The hell with them. Want to play some more cards?”

“Don’t mind if I do. I feel lucky.” Baldwin pulled out the double deck, riffled through it. Gilead took them and did the same. Good! they were in the order he had left them in. He ran his thumb across the edges again—yes, even the black nulls were unchanged in sequence; apparently Kettle Belly had simply stuck them in his pocket without examining them, without suspecting that a last message had been written in to them. He felt sure that Baldwin would not have left the message set up if he had read it. Since he found himself still alive, he was much relieved to think this.

He gave the cards one true shuffle, then started stacking them. His first lay-out read:

XXXXX

ESCAP

XXATX

XXXXX

XONCE

“Gotcha that time!” Baldwin crowed. “Ante up:”

DIDXX

XYOUX

XXXXX

XXXXX

CRACK

“Let it ride,” announced Gilead and took the deal:

XXNOX

BUTXX

XXXXX

XLETS

XXGOX

“You’re too derned lucky to live,” complained Baldwin. “Look—we’ll leave the bets doubled and double the lay-out. I want a fair chance to get my money back.”

His next lay-out read:

XXXXX

XTHXN

XXXXX

THXYX

NEEDX

XXXUX

ALIVX

XXXXX

PLAYX

XXXUP

“Didn’t do you much good, did it?” Gilead commented, took the cards and started arranging them,

“There’s something mighty funny about a man that wins all the time,” Baldwin grumbled. He watched Gilead narrowly. Suddenly his hand shot out, grabbed Gilead’s wrist. “I thought so;” he yelled. “A goddam card sharp—” Gilead shook his hand off. “Why, you obscene fat slug!”

“Caught you! Caught you!” Kettle Belly reclaimed his hold, grabbed the other wrist as well. They struggled and rolled to the floor.

Gilead discovered two things: this awkward, bulky man was an artist at every form of dirty fighting and he could simulate it convincingly without damaging his partner. His nerve holds were an inch off the nerve; his kneeings were to thigh muscle rather than to the crotch.

Baldwin tried for a chancery strangle; Gilead let him take it. The big man settled the flat of his forearm against the point of Gilead’s chin rather than against his Adam’s apple and proceeded to “strangle” him.

There were running footsteps in the corridor. Gilead caught a glimpse of the guards as they reached the door. They stopped momentarily; the bell of the Markheim was too big to use through the steel grating, the charge would be screened and grounded. Apparently they did not have pacifier bombs with them, for they hesitated. Then the leader quickly unlocked the door, while the man with the Markheim dropped back to the cover position.

Baldwin ignored them, while continuing his stream of profanity and abuse at Gilead. He let the first man almost reach them before he suddenly said in Gilead’s ear, “Close your eyes!” At which he broke just as suddenly.

Gilead sensed an incredibly dazzling flash of light even through his eyelids. Almost on top of it he heard a muffled crack; he opened his eyes and saw that the first man was down, his head twisted at a grotesque angle.

The man with the Markheim was shaking his head; the muzzle of his weapon weaved around. Baldwin was charging him in a waddle, back and knees bent until he was hardly three feet tall. The blinded guard could hear him, let fly a charge in the direction of the noise; it passed over Baldwin.

Baldwin was on him; the two went down. There was another cracking noise of ruptured bone and another dead man. Baldwin stood up, grasping the Markheim, keeping it pointed down the corridor. “How are your eyes, kid?” he called out anxiously.

“They’re all right.”

“Then come take this chiller.” Gilead moved up, took the Markheim. Baldwin ran to the dead end of the corridor where a window looked out over the city. The window did not open; there was no “copter step” beyond it. It was merely a straight drop. He came running back.

Gilead was shuffling possibilities in his mind. Events had moved by Baldwin’s plan, not by his. As a result of his visit to Mrs. Keithley’s “interview room” he was oriented in space. The corridor ahead and a turn to the left should bring him to the quick-drop shaft. Once in the basement and armed with a Markheim, he felt sure that he could fight his way out—with Baldwin in trail if the man would follow. If not—well, there was too much at stake.

Baldwin was into the cell and out again almost at once. “Come along!” Gilead snapped. A head showed at the bend in the corridor; he let fly at it and the owner of the head passed out on the floor.

“Out of my way, kid!” Baldwin answered. He was carrying the heavy bench on which they had “played” cards. He started up the corridor with it, toward the sealed window, gaining speed remarkably as he went.

His makeshift battering ram struck the window heavily. The plastic bulged, ruptured, and snapped like a soap bubble. The bench went on through, disappeared from sight, while Baldwin teetered on hands and knees, a thousand feet of nothingness under his chin.

“Kid!” he yelled. “Close in! Fall back!”

Gilead backed towards him, firing twice more as he did so. He still did not see how Baldwin planned to get out, but the big man had demonstrated that he had resourcefulness—and resources.

Baldwin was whistling through his fingers and waving. In violation of all city traffic rules a helicopter separated itself from the late afternoon throng, cut through a lane, and approached the window. It hovered just far enough away to keep from fouling its blades. The driver opened the door, a line snaked across and Kettle Belly caught it. With great speed he made it fast to the window’s polarizer knob, then grabbed the Markheim. “You first,” he snapped. “Hurry!”

Gilead dropped to his knees and grasped the line; the driver immediately increased his tip speed and tilted his rotor; the line tautened. Gilead let it take his weight, then swarmed across it. The driver gave him a hand up while controlling his craft like a high school horse with his other hand.

The ’copter bucked; Gilead turned and saw Baldwin coming across, a fat spider on a web. As he himself helped the big man in, the driver reached down and cut the line. The ship bucked again and slid away.

There were already men standing in the broken window. “Get lost, Steve!” Baldwin ordered. The driver gave his tip jets another notch and tilted the rotor still more; the ’copter swooped away. He eased it into the traffic stream and inquired, “Where to?”

“Set her for home—and tell the other boys to go home, too. No—you’ve got your hands full; I’ll tell them!” Baldwin crowded up into the other pilot’s seat, slipped on phones and settled a quiet-mike over his mouth. The driver adjusted his car to the traffic, set up a combination on his pilot, then settled back and opened a picture magazine.

Shortly Baldwin took off the phones and came back to the passenger compartment. “Takes a lot of ’copters to be sure you have one cruising by when you need it,” he said conversationally. “Fortunately, I’ve got a lot of ’em. Oh, by the way, this is Steve Halliday. Steve, meet Joe—Joe, what is your last name?”

“Greene,” answered Gilead.

“Howdy,” said the driver and let his eyes go back to his magazine.

Gilead considered the situation. He was not sure that it had been improved. Kettle Belly, whatever he was, was more than a used ’copter dealer—and he knew about the films. This boy Steve looked like a harmless young extrovert but, then, Kettle Belly himself looked like a lunk. He considered trying to overpower both of them, remembered Kettle Belly’s virtuosity in rough-and-tumble fighting, and decided against it. Perhaps Kettle Belly really was on his side, completely and utterly. He heard rumors that the Department used more than one echelon of operatives and he had no way of being sure that he himself was at the top level.

“Kettle Belly,” he went on, “could you set me down at the airport first? I’m in one hell of a hurry.”

Baldwin looked him over. “Sure, if you say so. But I thought you would want to swap those duds? You’re as conspicuous as a preacher at a stag party. And how are you fixed for cash?”

With his fingers Gilead counted the change that had come with the suit. A man without cash had one arm in a sling. “How long would it take?”

“Ten minutes extra, maybe.”

Gilead thought again about Kettle Belly’s fighting ability and decided that there was no way for a fish in water to get any wetter. “Okay.” He settled back and relaxed completely.

Presently he turned again to Baldwin. “By the way, how did you manage to sneak in that dazzle bomb?”

Kettle Belly chuckled. “I’m a large man, Joe; there’s an awful lot of me to search.” He laughed again. “You’d be amazed at where I had that hidden.”

Gilead changed the subject. “How did you happen to be there in the first place?”

Baldwin sobered. “That’s a long and complicated story. Come back some day when you’re not in such a rush and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’ll do that—soon.”

“Good. Maybe I can sell you that used Curtiss at the same time.”

The pilot alarm sounded; the driver put down his magazine and settled the craft on the roof of Baldwin’s establishment.

Baldwin was as good as his word. He took Gilead to his office, sent for clothes—which showed up with great speed—and handed Gilead a wad of bills suitable to stuff a pillow. “You can mail it back,” he said.

“I’ll bring it back in person,” promised Gilead.

“Good. Be careful out on the street. Some of our friends are sure to be around.”

“I’ll be careful.” He left, as casually as if he had called there on business, but feeling less sure of himself than usual. Baldwin himself remained a mystery and, in his business, Gilead could not afford mysteries.

There was a public phone booth in the lobby of Baldwin’s building. Gilead went in, scrambled, then coded a different relay station from the one he had attempted to use before. He gave his booth’s code and instructed the operator to scramble back. In a matter of minutes he was talking to his chief in New Washington.

“Joe! Where the hell have you been?”

“Later, boss—get this.” In departmental oral code as an added precaution, he told his chief that the films were in post office box ten-sixty, Chicago, and insisted that they be picked up by a major force at once.

His chief turned away from the view plate, then returned, “Okay, it’s done. Now what happened to you?”

“Later, boss, later. I think I’ve got some friends outside who are anxious to rassle with me. Keep me here and I may get a hole in my head.”

“Okay—but head right back here, I want a full report; I’ll wait here for you.”

“Right.” He switched off.

He left the booth light-heartedly, with the feeling of satisfaction that comes from a hard job successfully finished. He rather hoped that some of his “friends” would show up; he felt like kicking somebody who needed kicking.

But they disappointed him. He boarded the transcontinental rocket without alarms and slept all the way to New Washington.

He reached the Federal Bureau of Security by one of many concealed routes and went to his boss’s office. After scan and voice check he was let in. Bonn looked up and scowled.

Gilead ignored the expression; Bonn usually scowled. “Agent Joseph Briggs, three-four-oh-nine-seven-two, reporting back from assignment, sir,” he said evenly.

Bonn switched a desk control to “recording” and another to “covert.”

“You are, eh? Why, thumb-fingered idiot! How do you dare to show your face around here?”

“Easy now, boss—what’s the trouble?”

Bonn fumed incoherently for a time, then said, “Briggs, twelve star men covered that pick up—and the box was empty. Post office box ten-sixty, Chicago, indeed! Where are those films? Was it a cover up? Have you got them with you?”

Gilead-Briggs restrained his surprise. “No. I mailed them at the Grand Concourse post office to the address you just named.” He added, “The machine may have kicked them out; I was forced to letter by hand the machine symbols.”

Bonn looked suddenly hopeful. He touched another control and said, “Carruthers! On that Briggs matter: Check the rejection stations for that routing.” He thought and then added, “Then try a rejection sequence on the assumption that the first symbol was acceptable to the machine but mistaken. Also for each of the other symbols; run them simultaneously—crash priority for all agents and staff. After that try combinations of symbols taken two at a time, then three at a time, and so on.” He switched off.

“The total of that series you just set up is every postal address in the continent,” Briggs suggested mildly. “It can’t be done.”

“It’s got to be done! Man, have you any idea of the importance of those films you were guarding?”

“Yes. The director at Moon Base told me what I was carrying.”

“You don’t act as if you did. You’ve lost the most valuable thing this or any other government can possess—the absolute weapon. Yet you stand there blinking at me as if you had mislaid a pack of cigarets.”

“Weapon?” objected Briggs. “I wouldn’t call the nova effect that, unless you class suicide as a weapon. And I don’t concede that I’ve lost it. As an agent acting alone and charged primarily with keeping it out of the hands of others, I used the best means available in an emergency to protect it. That is well within the limits of my authority. I was spotted, by some means—”

“You shouldn’t have been spotted!”

“Granted. But I was. I was unsupported and my estimate of the situation did not include a probability of staying alive. Therefore I had to protect my charge by some means which did not depend on my staying alive.”

“But you did stay alive—you’re here.”

“Not my doing nor yours, I assure you. I should have been covered. It was your order, you will remember, that I act alone.”

Bonn looked sullen. “That was necessary.”

“So? In any case, I don’t see what all the shooting is about. Either the films show up, or they are lost and will be destroyed as unclaimed mail. So I go back to the Moon and get another set of prints.”

Bonn chewed his lip. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Bonn hesitated a long time. “There were just two sets. You had the originals, which were to be placed in a vault in the Archives—and the others were to be destroyed at once when the originals were known to be secure.”

“Yes? What’s the hitch?”

“You don’t see the importance of the procedure. Every working paper, every file, every record was destroyed when these films were made. Every technician, every assistant, received hypno. The intention was not only to protect the results of the research but to wipe out the very fact that the research had taken place. There aren’t a dozen people in the system who even know of the existence of the nova effect.”

Briggs had his own opinions on this point, based on recent experience, but he kept still about them. Bonn went on, “The Secretary has been after me steadily to let him know when the originals were secured. He has been quite insistent, quite critical. When you called in, I told him that the films were safe and that he would have them in a few minutes.”

“Well?”

“Don’t you see, you fool—he gave the order at once to destroy the other copies.”

Briggs whistled. “Jumped the gun, didn’t he?”

“That’s not the way he’ll figure it—mind you, the President was pressuring him. He’ll say that I jumped the gun.”

“And so you did.”

“No, you jumped the gun. You told me the films were in that box.”

“Hardly. I said I had sent them there.”

“No, you didn’t”

“Get out the tape and play it back.”

“There is no tape—by the President’s own order no records are kept on this operation.”

“So? Then why are you recording now?”

“Because,” Bonn answered sharply, “someone is going to pay for this and it is not going to be me.”

“Meaning,” Briggs said slowly, “that it is going to be me.”

“I didn’t say that. It might be the Secretary.”

“If his head rolls, so will yours. No, both of you are figuring on using me. Before you plan on that, hadn’t you better hear my report? It might affect your plans. I’ve got news for you, boss.”

Bonn drummed the desk. “Go ahead. It had better be good.”

In a passionless monotone Briggs recited all events as recorded by sharp memory from receipt of the films on the Moon to the present moment. Bonn listened impatiently.

Finished, Briggs waited. Bonn got up and strode around the room. Finally he stopped and said, “Briggs, I never heard such a fantastic pack of lies in my life. A fat man who plays cards! A wallet that wasn’t your wallet—your clothes stolen! And Mrs. Keithley—Mrs. Keithley! Don’t you know that she is one of the strongest supporters of the Administration?”

Briggs said nothing. Bonn went on, “Now I’ll tell you what actually did happen. Up to the time you grounded at Pied-a-Terre your report is correct, but—”

“How do you know?”

“Because you were covered, naturally. You don’t think I would trust this to one man, do you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have hollered for help and saved all this.”

Bonn brushed it aside. “You engaged a runner, dismissed him, went in that drugstore, came out and went to the post office. There was no fight in the concourse for the simple reason that no one was following you. At the post office you mailed three tubes, one of which may or may not have contained the films. You went from there to the New Age Hotel, left it twenty minutes later and caught the transrocket for Cape Town. You—”

“Just a moment,” objected Briggs. “How could I have done that and still be here now?”

“Eh?” For a moment Bonn seemed stumped. “That’s just a detail; you were positively identified. For that matter, it would have been a far, far better thing for you if you had stayed on that rocket. In fact—” the bureau chief got a far-away look in his eyes, “—you’ll be better off for the time being if we assume officially that you did stay on that rocket. You are in a bad spot, Briggs, a very bad spot. You did not muff this assignment—you sold out!”

Briggs looked at him levelly. “You are preferring charges?”

“Not just now. That is why it is best to assume that you stayed on that rocket—until matters settle down, clarify.”

Briggs did not need a graph to show him what solution would come out when “matters clarified.” He took from a pocket a memo pad, scribbled on it briefly, and handed it to Bonn.

It read: “I resign my appointment effective immediately.” He had added signature, thumbprint, date, and hour.

“So long, boss,” he added. He turned slightly, as if to go.

Bonn yelled, “Stop! Briggs, you are under arrest.” He reached toward his desk.

Briggs cuffed him in the windpipe, added one to the pit of Bonn’s stomach. He slowed down then and carefully made sure that Bonn would remain out for a satisfactory period. Examination of Bonn’s desk produced a knockout kit; he added a two-hour hypodermic, placing it inconspicuously beside a mole near the man’s backbone. He wiped the needle, restored everything to its proper place, removed the current record from the desk and wiped the tape of all mention of himself, including door check. He left the desk set to “covert” and “do not disturb” and left by another of the concealed routes to the Bureau.

He went to the rocket port, bought a ticket, unreserved, for the first ship to Chicago. There was twenty minutes to wait; he made a couple of minor purchases from clerks rather than from machines, letting his face be seen. When the Chicago ship was called he crowded forward with the rest.

At the inner gate, just short of the weighing-in platform, he became part of the crowd present to see passengers off, rather than a passenger himself. He waved at someone in the line leaving the weighing station beyond the gate, smiled, called out a good-bye, and let the crowd carry him back from the gate as it closed. He peeled off from the crowd at the men’s washroom. When he came out there were several hasty but effective changes in his appearance.

More important, his manner was different.

A short, illicit transaction in a saloon near a hiring hall provided the work card he needed; fifty-five minutes later he was headed across country as Jack Gillespie, loader and helper-driver on a diesel freighter.

Could his addressing of the pneumo tube have been bad enough to cause the automatic postal machines to reject it? He let the picture of the label, as it had been when he had completed it, build in his mind until it was as sharp as the countryside flowing past him. No, his lettering of the symbols had been perfect and correct; the machines would accept it

Could the machine have kicked out the tube for another cause, say a turned-up edge of the gummed label? Yes, but the written label was sufficient to enable a postal clerk to get it back in the groove. One such delay did not exceed ten minutes, even during the rush hour. Even with five such delays the tube would have reached Chicago more than one hour before he reported to Bonn by phone.

Suppose the gummed label had peeled off entirely; in such case the tube would have gone to the same destination as the two cover-up tubes.

In which case Mrs. Keithley would have gotten it, since she had been able to intercept or receive the other two.

Therefore the tube had reached the Chicago post office box.

Therefore Kettle Belly had read the message in the stacked cards, had given instructions to someone in Chicago, had done so while at the helicopter’s radio. After an event, “possible” and “true” are equivalent ideas, whereas “probable” becomes a measure of one’s ignorance. To call a conclusion “improbable” after the event was self-confusing amphigory.

Therefore Kettle Belly Baldwin had the films—a conclusion he had reached in Bonn’s office.

Two hundred miles from New Washington he worked up an argument with the top driver and got himself fired. From a local booth in the town where he dropped he scrambled through to Baldwin’s business office. “Tell him I’m a man who owes him money.”

Shortly the big man’s face built up on the screen. “Hi, kid! How’s tricks?”

“I’m fired.”

“I thought you would be.”

“Worse than that—I’m wanted.”

“Naturally.”

“I’d like to talk with you.”

“Swell. Where are you?”

Gilead told him.

“You’re clean?”

“For a few hours, at least.”

“Go to the local airport. Steve will pick you up.”

Steve did so, nodded a greeting, jumped his craft into the air, set his pilot, and went back to his reading. When the ship settled down on course, Gilead noted it and asked, “Where are we going?”

“The boss’s ranch. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.” Gilead knew it was possible that he was being taken for a one-way ride. True, Baldwin had enabled him to escape an otherwise pragmatically certain death—it was certain that Mrs. Keithley had not intended to let him stay alive longer that suited her uses, else she would not have had the girl killed in his presence. Until he had arrived at Bonn’s office, he had assumed that Baldwin had saved him because he knew something that Baldwin most urgently wanted to know—whereas now it looked as if Baldwin had saved him for altruistic reasons.

Gilead conceded the existence in this world of altruistic reasons, but was inclined not to treat them as “least hypothesis” until all other possible hypotheses had been eliminated; Baldwin might have had his own reasons for wishing him to live long enough to report to New Washington and nevertheless be pleased to wipe him out now that he was a wanted man whose demise would cause no comment.

Baldwin might even be a partner in these dark matters of Mrs. Keithley. In some ways that was the simplest explanation though it left other factors unexplained. In any case Baldwin was a key actor—and he had the films. The risk was necessary.

Gilead did not worry about it. The factors known to him were chalked up on the blackboard of his mind, there to remain until enough variables become constants to permit a solution by logic. The ride was very pleasant.

Steve put him down on the lawn of a large rambling ranch house, introduced him to a motherly old party named Mrs. Garver, and took off. “Make yourself at home, Joe,” she told him. “Your room is the last one in the east wing—shower across from it. Supper in ten minutes.”

He thanked her and took the suggestion, getting back to the living room with a minute or two to spare. Several others, a dozen or more of both sexes, were there. The place seemed to be a sort of a dude ranch—not entirely dude, as he had seen Herefords on the spread as Steve and he were landing.

The other guests seemed to take his arrival as a matter of course. No one asked why he was there. One of the women introduced herself as Thalia Wagner and then took him around the group. Ma Garver came in swinging a dinner bell as this was going on and they all filed into a long, low dining room. Gilead could not remember when he had had so good a meal in such amusing company.

After eleven hours of sleep, his first real rest in several days, he came fully, suddenly awake at a group of sounds his subconscious could not immediately classify and refused to discount. He opened his eyes, swept the room with them, and was at once out of bed, crouching on the side away from the door.

There were hurrying footsteps moving past his bedroom door. There were two voices, one male, one female, outside the door; the female was Thalia Wagner, the man he could not place.

Male: “tsʉmaeq?”

Female: “nø!”

Male: “zulntsɨ.”

Female: “ɨpbit’ New Jersey.”

These are not precisely the sounds that Gilead heard, first because of the limitations of phonetic symbols, and second because his ears were not used to the sounds. Hearing is a function of the brain, not of the ear; his brain, sophisticated as it was, nevertheless insisted on forcing the sounds that reached his ears into familiar pockets rather than stop to create new ones.

Thalia Wagner identified, he relaxed and stood up. Thalia was part of the unknown situation he accepted in coming here; a stranger known to her he must accept also. The new unknowns, including the odd language, he filed under “pending” and put aside.

The clothes he had had were gone, but his money—Baldwin’s money, rather—was where his clothes had been and with it his work card as Jack Gillespie and his few personal articles. By them someone had laid out a fresh pair of walking shorts and new sneakers, in his size.

He noted, with almost shocking surprise, that someone had been able to serve him thus without waking him.

He put on his shorts and shoes and went out. Thalia and her companion had left while he dressed. No one was about and he found the dining room empty, but three places were set, including his own of supper, and hot dishes and facilities were on the sideboard. He selected baked ham and hot rolls, fried four eggs, poured coffee. Twenty minutes later, warmly replenished and still alone, he stepped out on the veranda.

It was a beautiful day. He was drinking it in and eyeing with friendly interest a desert lark when a young woman came around the side of the house. She was dressed much as he was, allowing for difference in sex, and she was comely, though not annoyingly so. “Good morning,” he said.

She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down. “Well!” she said. “Why doesn’t somebody tell me these things?”

Then she added, “Are you married?”

“No.”

“I’m shopping around. Object: matrimony. Let’s get acquainted.”

“I’m a hard man to marry. I’ve been avoiding it for years.”

“They’re all hard to marry,” she said bitterly. “There’s a new colt down at the corral. Come on.”

They went. The colt’s name was War Conqueror of Baldwin; hers was Gail. After proper protocol with mare and son they left. “Unless you have pressing engagements,” said Gail, “now is a salubrious time to go swimming.”

“If salubrious means what I think it does, yes.”

The spot was shaded by cottonwoods, the bottom was sandy; for a while he felt like a boy again, with all such matters as lies and nova effects and death and violence away in some improbable, remote dimension. After a long while he pulled himself up on the bank and said, “Gail, what does ‘tsʉmaeq’ mean?”

“Come again?” she answered. “I had water in my ear.”

He repeated all of the conversation he had heard. She looked incredulous, then laughed. “You didn’t hear that, Joe, you just didn’t.” She added, “You got the ‘New Jersey’ part right.”

“But I did.”

“Say it again.”

He did so, more carefully, and giving a fair imitation of the speakers’ accents.

Gail chortled. “I got the gist of it that time. That Thalia; someday some strong man is going to wring her neck.”

“But what does it mean?”

Gail gave him a long, sidewise look. “If you ever find out, I really will marry you, in spite of your protests.”

Someone was whistling from the hill top. “Joe! Joe Greene—the boss wants you.”

“Gotta go,” he said to Gail. “G’bye.”

“See you later,” she corrected him.

Baldwin was waiting in a study as comfortable as himself. “Hi, Joe,” he greeted him. “Grab a seatful of chair. They been treating you right?”

“Yes, indeed. Do you always set as good a table as I’ve enjoyed so far?”

Baldwin patted his middle. “How do you think I came by my nickname?”

“Kettle Belly, I’d like a lot of explanations.”

“Joe, I’m right sorry you lost your job. If I’d had my druthers, it wouldn’t have been the way it was.”

“Are you working with Mrs. Keithley?”

“No. I’m against her.”

“I’d like to believe that, but I’ve no reason to—yet. What were you doing where I found you?”

“They had grabbed me—Mrs. Keithley and her boys.”

“They just happened to grab you—and just happened to stuff you in the same cell with me—and you just happened to know about the films I was supposed to be guarding—and you just happened to have a double deck of cards in your pocket? Now, really!”

“If I hadn’t had the cards, we would have found some other way to talk,” Kettle Belly said mildly. “Wouldn’t we, now?”

“Yes. Granted.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that the set up was an accident. We had you covered from Moon Base; when you were grabbed—or rather as soon as you let them suck you into the New Age, I saw to it that they grabbed me too; I figured I might have a chance to lend you a hand, once I was inside.” He added, “I kinda let them think that I was an FBS man, too.”

“I see. Then it was just luck that they locked us up together.”

“Not luck,” Kettle Belly objected. “Luck is a bonus that follows careful planning—it’s never free. There was a computable probability that they would put us together in hopes of finding out what they wanted to know. We hit the jackpot because we paid for the chance. If we hadn’t, I would have had to crush out of that cell and look for you—but I had to be inside to do it.”

“Who is Mrs. Keithley?”

“Other than what she is publicly, I take it. She is the queen bee—or the black widow—of a gang. ‘Gang’ is a poor word—power group, maybe. One of several such groups, more or less tied together where their interests don’t cross. Between them they divvy up the country for whatever they want like two cats splitting a gopher.”

Gilead nodded; he knew what Baldwin meant, though he had not known that the enormously respected Mrs. Keithley was in such matters—not until his nose had been rubbed in the fact. “And what are you, Kettle Belly?”

“Now, Joe—I like you and I’m truly sorry you’re in a jam. You led wrong a couple of times and I was obliged to trump, as the stakes were high. See here, I feel that I owe you something; what do you say to this: we’ll fix you up with a brand-new personality, vacuum tight—even new fingerprints if you want them. Pick any spot on the globe you like and any occupation; we’ll supply all the money you need to start over—or money enough to retire and play with the cuties the rest of your life. What do you say?”

“No.” There was no hesitation.

“You’ve no close relatives, no intimate friends. Think about it. I can’t put you back in your job; this is the best I can do.”

“I’ve thought about it. The devil with the job, I want to finish my case! You’re the key to it.”

“Reconsider, Joe. This is your chance to get out of affairs of state and lead a normal, happy life.”

“‘Happy,’ he says!”

“Well, safe, anyhow. If you insist on going further your life expectancy becomes extremely problematical.”

“I don’t recall ever having tried to play safe.”

“You’re the doctor. Joe. In that case—” A speaker on Baldwin’s desk uttered: “œnIe r nøg rylp.”

Baldwin answered, “nu,” and sauntered quickly to the fireplace. An early-morning fire still smouldered in it. He grasped the mantel piece, pulled it toward him. The entire masonry assembly, hearth, mantel, and grate, came toward him, leaving an arch in the wall. “Duck down stairs, Joe,” he said. “It’s a raid.”

“A real priest’s hole!”

“Yeah, corny, ain’t it? This joint has more bolt holes than a rabbit’s nest—and booby-trapped, too. Too many gadgets, if you ask me.” He went back to his desk, opened a drawer, removed three film spools and dropped them in a pocket.

Gilead was about to go down the staircase; seeing the spools, he stopped. “Go ahead, Joe,” Baldwin said urgently. “You’re covered and outnumbered. With this raid showing up we wouldn’t have time to fiddle; we’ud just have to kill you.”

They stopped in a room well underground, another study much like the one above, though lacking sunlight and view. Baldwin said something in the odd language to the mike on the desk, was answered. Gilead experimented with the idea that the lingo might be reversed English, discarded the notion.

“As I was saying,” Baldwin went on, “if you are dead set on knowing all the answers—”

“Just a moment. What about this raid?”

“Just the government boys. They won’t be rough and not too thorough. Ma Garver can handle them. We won’t have to hurt anybody as long as they don’t use penetration radar.”

Gilead smiled wryly at the disparagement of his own former service. “And if they do?”

“That gimmick over there squeals like a pig, if it’s touched by penetration frequencies. Even then we’re safe against anything short of an A-bomb. They won’t do that; they want the films, not a hole in the ground. Which reminds me—here, catch.”

Gilead found himself suddenly in possession of the films which were at the root of the matter. He unspooled a few frames and made certain that they were indeed the right films. He sat still and considered how he might get off this limb and back to the ground without dropping the eggs. The speaker again uttered something; Baldwin did not answer it but said, “We won’t be down here long.”

“Bonn seems to have decided to check my report.” Some of his—former—comrades were upstairs. If he did Baldwin in, could he locate the inside control for the door?

“Bonn is a poor sort. He’ll check me—but not too thoroughly; I’m rich. He won’t check Mrs. Keithley at all; she’s too rich. He thinks with his political ambitions instead of his head. His late predecessor was a better man—he was one of us.”

Gilead’s tentative plans underwent an abrupt reversal. His oath had been to a government; his personal loyalty had been given to his former boss. “Prove that last remark and I shall be much interested.”

“No, you’ll come to learn that it’s true—if you still insist on knowing the answers. Through checking those films, Joe? Toss ’em back.”

Gilead did not do so. “I suppose you have made copies in any case?”

“Wasn’t necessary; I looked at them. Don’t get ideas, Joe; you’re washed up with the FBS, even if you brought the films and my head back on a platter. You slugged your boss—remember?”

Gilead remembered that he had not told Baldwin so. He began to believe that Baldwin did have men inside the FBS, whether his late bureau chief had been one of them or not.

“I would at least be allowed to resign with a clear record. I know Bonn—officially he would be happy to forget it.” He was simply stalling for time, waiting for Baldwin to offer an opening.

“Chuck them back, Joe. I don’t want to rassle. One of us might get killed—both of us, if you won the first round. You can’t prove your case, because I can prove I was home teasing the cat. I sold ’copters to two very respectable citizens at the exact time you would claim I was somewhere else.” He listened again to the speaker, answered it in the same gibberish.

Gilead’s mind evaluated his own tactical situation to the same answer that Baldwin had expressed. Not being given to wishful thinking he at once tossed the films to Baldwin.

“Thanks, Joe.” He went to a small oubliette set in the wall, switched it to full power, put the films in the hopper, waited a few seconds, and switched it off. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Gilead permitted his eyebrows to climb. “Kettle Belly, you’ve managed to surprise me.”

“How?”

“I thought you wanted to keep the nova effect as a means to power.”

“Nuts! Scalping a man is a hell of a poor way to cure him of dandruff. Joe, how much do you know about the nova effect?”

“Not much. I know it’s a sort of atom bomb powerful enough to scare the pants off anybody who gets to thinking about it.”

“It’s not a bomb. It’s not a weapon. It’s a means of destroying a planet and everything on it completely—by turning that planet into a nova. If that’s a weapon, military or political, then I’m Samson and you’re Delilah.

“But I’m not Samson,” he went on, “and I don’t propose to pull down the Temple—nor let anybody else do so. There are moral lice around who would do just that, if anybody tried to keep them from having their own way. Mrs. Keithley is one such. Your boyfriend Bonn is another such, if only he had the guts and the savvy—which he ain’t. I’m bent on frustrating such people. What do you know about ballistics, Joe?”

“Grammar school stuff.”

“Inexcusable ignorance.” The speaker sounded again; he answered it without breaking his flow. “The problem of three bodies still lacks a neat general solution, but there are several special solutions—the asteroids that chase Jupiter in Jupiter’s own orbit at the sixty degree position, for example. And there’s the straight-line solution—you’ve heard of the asteroid ‘Earth-Anti’?”

“That’s the chunk of rock that is always on the other side of the Sun, where we never see it.”

“That’s right—only it ain’t there anymore. It’s been novaed.”

Gilead, normally immune to surprise, had been subjected to one too many. “Huh? I thought this nova effect was theory?”

“Nope. If you had had time to scan through the films you would have seen pictures of it. It’s a plutonium, lithium, and heavy water deal, with some flourishes we won’t discuss. It adds up to the match that can set afire a world. It did—a little world flared up and was gone.

“Nobody saw it happen. No one on Earth could see it, for it was behind the Sun. It couldn’t have been seen from Moon Colony; the Sun still blanked it off from there—visualize the geometry. All that ever saw it were a battery of cameras in a robot ship. All who knew about it were the scientists who rigged it—and all of them were with us, except the director. If he had been, too, you would never have been in this mix up.”

“Dr. Finnley?”

“Yep. A nice guy, but a mind like a pretzel. A ‘political’ scientist, second-rate ability. He doesn’t matter; our boys will ride herd on him until he’s pensioned off. But we couldn’t keep him from reporting and sending the films down. So I had to grab ’em and destroy them.”

“Why didn’t you simply save them? All other considerations aside, they are unique in science.”

“The human race doesn’t need that bit of science, not this millennium. I saved all that mattered, Joe—in my head.”

“You are your cousin Hartley, aren’t you?”

“Of course. But I’m also Kettle Belly Baldwin, and several other guys.”

“You can be Lady Godiva, for all of me.”

“As Hartley, I was entitled to those films, Joe. It was my project. I instigated it, through my boys.”

“I never credited Finnley with it. I’m not a physicist, but he obviously isn’t up to it.”

“Sure, sure. I was attempting to prove that an artificial nova could not be created; the political—the racial—importance of establishing the point is obvious. It backfired on me—so we had to go into emergency action.”

“Perhaps you should have left well enough alone.”

“No. It’s better to know the worst; now we can be alert for it, divert research away from it.” The speaker growled again; Baldwin went on, “There may be a divine destiny, Joe, unlikely as it seems, that makes really dangerous secrets too difficult to be broached until intelligence reaches the point where it can cope with them—if said intelligence has the will and the good intentions. Ma Garver says to come up now.”

They headed for the stairs. “I’m surprised that you leave it up to an old gal like Ma to take charge during an emergency.”

“She’s competent, I assure you. But I was running things—you heard me.”

“Oh.”

They settled down again in the above-surface study. “I give you one more chance to back out, Joe. It doesn’t matter that you know all about the films, since they are gone and you can’t prove anything—but beyond that—you realize that if you come in with us, are told what is going on, you will be killed deader than a duck at the first suspicious move?”

Gilead did; he knew in fact that he was already beyond the point of no return. With the destruction of the films went his last chance of rehabilitating his former main persona. This gave him no worry; the matter was done. He had become aware that from the time he had admitted that he understood the first message this man had offered him concealed in a double deck of cards he had no longer been a free actor, his moves had been constrained by moves made by Baldwin. Yet there was no help for it; his future lay here or nowhere.

“I know it; go ahead.”

“I know what your mental reservations are, Joe; you are simply accepting risk; not promising loyalty.”

“Yes—but why are you considering taking a chance on me?”

Baldwin was more serious in manner than he usually allowed himself to be. “You’re an able man, Joe. You have the savvy and the moral courage to do what is reasonable in an odd situation rather than what is conventional.”

“That’s why you want me?”

“Partly that. Partly because I like the way you catch on to a new card game.” He grinned. “And even partly because Gail likes the way you behave with a colt.”

“Gail? What’s she got to do with it?”

“She reported on you to me about five minutes ago, during the raid.”

“Hmm—go ahead.”

“You’ve been warned.” For a moment Baldwin looked almost sheepish. “I want you to take what I say next at its face value, Joe—don’t laugh.”

“Okay.”

“You asked what I was. I’m sort of the executive secretary of this branch of an organization of supermen.”

“I thought so.”

“Eh? How long have you known?”

“Things added up. The card game, your reaction time. I knew it when you destroyed the films.”

“Joe, what is a superman?”

Gilead did not answer.

“Very well, let’s chuck the term,” Baldwin went on. “It’s been overused and misused and beat up until it has mostly comic connotations. I used it for shock value and I didn’t shock you. The term ‘supermen’ has come to have a fairytale meaning, conjuring up pictures of x-ray eyes, odd sense organs, double hearts, uncuttable skin, steel muscles—an adolescent’s dream of the dragon-killing hero. Tripe, of course. Joe, what is a man? What is man that makes him more than an animal? Settle that and we’ll take a crack at defining a superman—or New Man, homo novis, who must displace homo sapiens—is displacing him—because he is better able to survive than is homo sap. I’m not trying to define myself, I’ll leave it up to my associates and the inexorable processes of time as to whether or not I am a superman, a member of the new species of man—same test to apply to you.”

“Me?”

“You. You show disturbing symptoms of being homo novis, Joe, in a sloppy, ignorant, untrained fashion. Not likely, but you just might be one of the breed. Now—what is man? What is the one thing he can do better than animals which is so strong a survival factor that it outweighs all the things that animals of one sort or another can do much better than he can?”

“He can think.”

“I fed you that answer; no prize for it. Okay, you pass yourself off a man; let’s see you do something. What is the one possible conceivable factor—or factors, if you prefer—which the hypothetical superman could have, by mutation or magic or any means, and which could be added to this advantage which man already has and which has enabled him to dominate this planet against the unceasing opposition of a million other species of fauna? Some factor that would make the domination of man by his successor, as inevitable as your domination over a hound dog? Think, Joe. What is the necessary direction of evolution to the next dominant species?”

Gilead engaged in contemplation for what was for him a long time. There were so many lovely attributes that a man might have: to be able to see both like a telescope and microscope, to see the insides of things, to see throughout the spectrum, to have hearing of the same order, to be immune to disease, to grow a new arm or leg, to fly through the air without bothering with silly gadgets like helicopters or jets, to walk unharmed the ocean bottom, to work without tiring—

Yet the eagle could fly and he was nearly extinct, even though his eyesight was better than man’s. A dog has better smell and hearing; seals swim better, balance better, and furthermore can store oxygen. Rats can survive where men would starve or die of hardship; they are smart and pesky hard to kill. Rats could—

Wait! Could tougher, smarter rats displace man? No, it just wasn’t in them; too small a brain.

“To be able to think better,” Gilead answered almost instantly.

“Hand the man a cigar! Supermen are superthinkers; anything else is a side issue. I’ll allow the possibility of super-somethings which might exterminate or dominate mankind other than by outsmarting him in his own racket—thought. But I deny that it is possible for a man to conceive in discrete terms what such a super-something would be or how this something would win out. New Man will beat out homo sap in homo sap’s own specialty—rational thought, the ability to recognize data, store them, integrate them, evaluate correctly the result, and arrive at a correct decision. That is how man got to be champion; the creature who can do it better is the coming champion. Sure, there are other survival factors, good health, good sense organs, fast reflexes, but they aren’t even comparable, as the long, rough history of mankind has proved over and over—Marat in his bath, Roosevelt in his wheelchair, Caesar with his epilepsy and his bad stomach, Nelson with one eye and one arm, blind Milton; when the chips are down it’s brain that wins, not the body’s tools.”

“Stop a moment,” said Gilead. “How about E.S.P.?”

Baldwin shrugged. “I’m not sneering at extra-sensory perception any more than I would at exceptional eyesight—E.S.P. is not in the same league with the ability to think correctly. E.S.P. is a grab-bag name for the means other than the known sense organs by which the brain may gather data—but the trick that pays off with first prize is to make use of that data, to reason about it. If you would like a telepathic hook up to Shanghai, I can arrange it; we’ve got operators at both ends—but you can get whatever data you might happen to need from Shanghai by phone with less trouble, less chance of a bad connection, and less danger of somebody listening in. Telepaths can’t pick up a radio message; it’s not the same wave band.”

“What wave band is it?”

“Later, later. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“I wasn’t thinking especially of telepathy. I was thinking of all parapsychological phenomena.”

“Same reasoning. Apportation would be nice, if telekinetics had gotten that far—which it ain’t. But a pick-up truck moves things handily enough. Television in the hands of an intelligent man counts for more than clairvoyance in a moron. Quit wasting my time, Joe.”

“Sorry.”

“We defined thinking as integrating data and arriving at correct answers. Look around you. Most people do that stunt just well enough to get to the corner store and back without breaking a leg. If the average man thinks at all, he does silly things like generalizing from a single datum. He uses one-valued logics. If he is exceptionally bright, he may use two-valued, ‘either-or’ logic to arrive at his wrong answers. If he is hungry, hurt, or personally interested in the answer, he can’t use any sort of logic and will discard an observed fact as blithely as he will stake his life on a piece of wishful thinking. He uses the technical miracles created by superior men without wonder nor surprise, as a kitten accepts a bowl of milk. Far from aspiring to higher reasoning, he is not even aware that higher reasoning exists. He classes his own mental process as being of the same sort as the genius of an Einstein. Man is not a rational animal; he is a rationalizing animal.

“For explanations of a universe that confuses him he seizes onto numerology, astrology, hysterical religions, and other fancy ways to go crazy. Having accepted such glorified nonsense, facts make no impression on him, even if at the cost of his own life. Joe, one of the hardest things to believe is the abysmal depth of human stupidity.

“That is why there is always room at the top, why a man with just a leetle more on the ball can so easily become governor, millionaire, or college president—and why homo sap is sure to be displaced by New Man, because there is so much room for improvement and evolution never stops.

“Here and there among ordinary men is a rare individual who really thinks, can and does use logic in at least one field—he’s often as stupid as the rest outside his study or laboratory—but he can think, if he’s not disturbed or sick or frightened. This rare individual is responsible for all the progress made by the race; the others reluctantly adopt his results. Much as the ordinary man dislikes and distrusts and persecutes the process of thinking he is forced to accept the results occasionally, because thinking is efficient compared with his own mauderings. He may still plant his corn in the dark of the Moon but he will plant better corn developed by better men than he.

“Still rarer is the man who thinks habitually, who applies reason, rather than habit pattern, to all his activity. Unless he masques himself, his is a dangerous life; he is regarded as queer, untrustworthy, subversive of public morals; he is a pink monkey among brown monkeys—a fatal mistake. Unless the pink monkey can dye himself brown before he is caught. The brown monkey’s instinct to kill is correct; such men are dangerous to all monkey customs.

“Rarest of all is the man who can and does reason at all times, quickly, accurately, inclusively, despite hope or fear or bodily distress, without egocentric bias or thalmic disturbance, with correct memory, with clear distinction between fact, assumption, and non-fact. Such men exist, Joe; they are ‘New Man’—human in all respects, indistinguishable in appearance or under the scalpel from homo sap, yet as unlike him in action as the Sun is unlike a single candle.”

Gilead said, “Are you that sort?”

“You will continue to form your own opinions.”

“And you think I may be, too?”

“Could be. I’ll have more data in a few days.”

Gilead laughed until the tears came. “Kettle Belly, if I’m the future hope of the race, they had better send in the second team quick. Sure I’m brighter than most of the jerks I run into, but, as you say, the competition isn’t stiff. But I haven’t any sublime aspirations. I’ve got as lecherous an eye as the next man. I enjoy wasting time over a glass of beer. I just don’t feel like a superman.”

“Speaking of beer, let’s have some.” Baldwin got up and obtained two cans of the brew. “Remember that Mowgli felt like a wolf. Being a New Man does not divorce you from human sympathies and pleasures. There have been New Men all through history; I doubt if most of them suspected that their difference entitled them to call themselves a different breed. Then they went ahead and bred with the daughters of men, diffusing their talents through the racial organism, preventing them from effectuating until chance brought the genetic factors together again.”

“Then I take it that New Man is not a special mutation?”

“Huh? Who isn’t a mutation, Joe? All of us are a collection of millions of mutations. Around the globe hundreds of mutations have taken place in our human germ plasm while we have been sitting here. No, homo novis didn’t come about because great grandfather stood too close to a cyclotron; homo novis was not even a separate breed until he became aware of himself, organized, and decided to hang on to what his genes had handed him. You could mix New Man back into the race today and lose him; he’s merely a variation becoming a species. A million years from now is another matter; I venture to predict that New Man, of that year and model, won’t be able to interbreed with homo sap—no viable offspring.”

“You don’t expect present man—homo sapiens—to disappear?”

“Not necessarily. The dog adapted to man. Probably more dogs now than in umpteen B.C.—and better fed.”

“And man would be New Man’s dog.”

“Again not necessarily. Consider the cat.”

“The idea is to skim the cream of the race’s germ plasm and keep it biologically separate until the two races are permanently distinct. You chaps sound like a bunch of stinkers, Kettle Belly.”

“Monkey talk.”

“Perhaps. The new race would necessarily run things—”

“Do you expect New Man to decide grave matters by counting common man’s runny noses?”

“No, that was my point. Postulating such a new race, the result is inevitable. Kettle Belly, I confess to a monkey prejudice in favor of democracy, human dignity, and freedom. It goes beyond logic; it is the kind of a world I like. In my job I have jungled with the outcasts of society, shared their slumgullion. Stupid they may be, bad they are not—I have no wish to see them become domestic animals.”

For the first time the big man showed concern. His persona as “King of the Kopters”, master merchandiser, slipped away; he sat in brooding majesty, a lonely and unhappy figure. “I know, Joe. They are of us; their little dignities, their nobilities, are not lessened by their sorry state. Yet it must be.”

“Why? New Man will come—granted. But why hurry the process?”

“Ask yourself.” He swept a hand toward the oubliette. “Ten minutes ago you and I saved this planet, all our race. It’s the hour of the knife. Someone must be on guard if the race is to live; there is no one but us. To guard effectively we New Men must be organized, must never fumble any crisis like this—and must increase our numbers. We are few now, Joe; as the crises increase, we must increase to meet them. Eventually—and it’s a dead race with time—we must take over and make certain that baby never plays with matches.”

He stopped and brooded. “I confess to that same affection for democracy, Joe. But it’s like yearning for the Santa Claus you believed in as a child. For a hundred and fifty years or so democracy, or something like it, could flourish safely. The issues were such as to be settled without disaster by the votes of common men, befogged and ignorant as they were. But now, if the race is simply to stay alive, political decisions depend on real knowledge of such things as nuclear physics, planetary ecology, genetic theory, even system mechanics. They aren’t up to it, Joe. With goodness and more will than they possess less than one in a thousand could stay awake over one page of nuclear physics; they can’t learn what they must know.”

Gilead brushed it aside. “It’s up to us to brief them. Their hearts are all right; tell them the score—they’ll come down with the right answers.”

“No, Joe. We’ve tried it; it does not work. As you say, most of them are good, the way a dog can be noble and good. Yet there are bad ones—Mrs. Keithley and company and more like her. Reason is poor propaganda when opposed by the yammering, unceasing lies of shrewd and evil and self-serving men. The little man has no way to judge and the shoddy lies are packaged more attractively. There is no way to offer color to a colorblind man, nor is there any way for us to give the man of imperfect brain the canny skill to distinguish a lie from a truth.

“No, Joe. The gulf between us and them is narrow, but it is very deep. We cannot close it.”

“I wish,” said Gilead, “that you wouldn’t class me with your ‘New Man’; I feel more at home on the other side.”

“You will decide for yourself which side you are on, as each of us has done.”

Gilead forced a change in subject. Ordinarily immune to thalamic disturbance this issue upset him; his brain followed Baldwin’s argument and assured him that it was true; his inclinations fought it. He was confronted with the sharpest of all tragedy; two equally noble and valid rights, utterly opposed. “What do you people do, aside from stealing films?”

“Mmm—many things.” Baldwin relaxed, looked again like a jovial sharp businessman. “Where a push here and a touch there will keep things from going to pot, we apply the pressure, by many and devious means. And we scout for suitable material and bring it into the fold when we can—we’ve had our eye on you for ten years.”

“So?”

“Yep. That is a prime enterprise. Through public data we eliminate all but about one tenth of one percent; that thousandth individual we watch. And then there are our horticultural societies.” He grinned.

“Finish your joke.”

“We weed people.”

“Sorry, I’m slow today.”

“Joe, didn’t you ever feel a yen to wipe out some evil, obscene, rotten jerk who infected everything he touched, yet was immune to legal action? We treat them as cancers; we excise them from the body social. We keep a ‘Better Dead’ list; when a man is clearly morally bankrupt we close his account at the first opportunity.”

Gilead smiled. “If you were sure what you were doing, it could be fun.”

“We are always sure, though our methods would be no good in a monkey law court. Take Mrs. Keithley—is there doubt in your mind?”

“None.”

“Why don’t you have her indicted? Don’t bother to answer. For example, two weeks from tonight there will be giant pow-wow of the new, rejuvenated, bigger-and-better-than-ever Ku Klux Klan on a mountain top down Carolina way. When the fun is at its height, when they are mouthing obscenities, working each other up to the pogrom spirit, an act of God is going to wipe out the whole kit and kaboodle. Very sad.”

“Could I get in on that?”

“You aren’t even a cadet as yet.” Baldwin went on. “There is the project to increase our numbers, but that is a thousand-year program; you’d need a perpetual calendar to check it. More important is keeping matches away from baby. Joe, it’s been eighty-five years since we beheaded the last commissar: have you wondered why so little basic progress in science has been made in that time?”

“Eh? There have been a lot of changes.”

“Minor adaptations—some spectacular, almost none of them basic. Of course there was very little progress made under communism; a totalitarian political religion is incompatible with free investigation. Let me digress: the communist interregnum was responsible for the New Men getting together and organizing. Most New Men are scientists, for obvious reasons. When the commissars started ruling on natural laws by political criteria—Lysenkoism and similar nonsense—it did not sit well; a lot of us went underground.

“I’ll skip the details. It brought us together, gave us practice in underground activity, and gave a backlog of new research, carried out underground. Some of it was obviously dangerous; we decided to hang onto it for a while. Since then such secret knowledge has grown, for we never give out an item until it has been scrutinized for social hazards. Since much of it is dangerous and since very few indeed outside our organization are capable of real original thinking, basic science has been almost at a—public!—standstill.

“We hadn’t expected to have to do it that way. We helped to see to it that the new constitution was liberal and—we thought—workable. But the new Republic turned out to be an even poorer thing than the old. The evil ethic of communism had corrupted, even after the form was gone. We held off. Now we know that we must hold off until we can revise the whole society.”

“Kettle Belly,” Joe said slowly, “you speak as if you had been on the spot. How old are you?”

“I’ll tell you when you are the age I am now. A man has lived long enough when he no longer longs to live. I ain’t there yet. Joe, I must have your answer, or this must be continued in our next.”

“You had it at the beginning—but, see here, Kettle Belly, there is one job I want promised to me.”

“Which is?”

“I want to kill Mrs. Keithley.”

“Keep your pants on. When you’re trained, and if she’s still alive then, you’ll be used for that purpose—”

“Thanks!”

“—provided you are the proper tool for it.” Baldwin turned toward the mike, called out, “Gail!” and added one word in the strange tongue.

Gail showed up promptly. “Joe,” said Baldwin, “when this young lady gets through with you, you will be able to sing, whistle, chew gum, play chess, hold your breath, and fly a kite simultaneously—and all this while riding a bicycle under water. Take him, sis, he’s all yours.”

Gail rubbed her hands. “Oh, boy!”

“First we must teach you to see and to hear, then to remember, then to speak, and then to think.”

Joe looked at her. “What’s this I’m doing with my mouth at this moment?”

“It’s not talking, it’s a sort of grunting. Furthermore English is not structurally suited to thinking. Shut up and listen.”

In their underground classroom Gail had available several types of apparatus to record and manipulate light and sound. She commenced throwing groups of figures on a screen, in flashes. “What was it, Joe?”

“Nine-six-oh-seven-two—That was as far as I got.”

“It was up there a full thousandth of a second. Why did you get only the left-hand side of the group?”

“That’s all the farther I had read.”

“Look at all of it. Don’t make an effort of will; just look at it.” She flashed another number.

Joe’s memory was naturally good; his intelligence was high—just how high he did not yet know. Unconvinced that the drill was useful, he relaxed and played along. Soon he was beginning to grasp a nine-digit array as a single gestalt; Gail reduced the flash time.

“What is this magic lantern gimmick?” he inquired.

“It’s a Renshaw tachistoscope. Back to work.”

Around World War II Dr. Samuel Renshaw at the Ohio State University was proving that most people are about one-fifth efficient in using their capacities to see, hear, taste, feel and remember. His research was swallowed in the morass of communist pseudoscience that obtained after World War III, but, after his death, his findings were preserved underground. Gail did not expose Gilead to the odd language he had heard until he had been rather thoroughly Renshawed.

However, from the time of his interview with Baldwin the other persons at the ranch used it in his presence. Sometimes someone—usually Ma Garver—would translate, sometimes not. He was flattered to feel accepted, but graveled to know that it was at the lowest cadetship. He was a child among adults.

Gail started teaching him to hear by speaking to him single words from the odd language, requiring him to repeat them back. “No, Joe. Watch.” This time when she spoke the word it appeared on the screen in sound analysis, by a means basically like one long used to show the deaf-and-dumb their speech mistakes. “Now you try it.”

He did, the two arrays hung side by side. “How’s that, teacher?” he said triumphantly.

“Terrible, by several decimal places. You held the final guttural too long—” She pointed. “—the middle vowel was formed with your tongue too high and you pitched it too low and you failed to let the pitch rise. And six other things. You couldn’t possibly have been understood. I heard what you said, but it was gibberish. Try again. And don’t call me ‘teacher’.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered solemnly.

She shifted the controls; he tried again. This time his analysis array was laid down on top of hers; where the two matched, they cancelled. Where they did not match, his errors stood out in contrasting colors. The screen looked like a sun burst.

“Try again, Joe.” She repeated the word without letting it affect the display.

“Confound it, if you would tell me what the words mean instead of treating me the way Milton treated his daughters about Latin, I could remember them easier.”

She shrugged. “I can’t, Joe. You must learn to hear and to speak first. Speedtalk is a flexible language; the same word is not likely to recur. This practice word means: ‘The far horizons draw no nearer.’ That’s not much help, is it?”

The definition seemed improbable, but he was learning not to doubt her. He was not used to women who were always two jumps ahead of him. He ordinarily felt sorry for the poor little helpless cuddly creatures; this one he often wanted to slug. He wondered if this response were what the romancers meant by “love”; he decided that it couldn’t be.

“Try again, Joe.” Speedtalk was a structurally different speech from any the race had ever used. Long before, Ogden and Richards had shown that eight hundred and fifty words were sufficient vocabulary to express anything that could be expressed by “normal” human vocabularies, with the aid of a handful of special words—a hundred odd—for each special field, such as horse racing or ballistics. About the same time phoneticians had analyzed all human tongues into about a hundred-odd sounds, represented by the letters of a general phonetic alphabet.

On these two propositions Speedtalk was based.

To be sure, the phonetic alphabet was much less in number than the words in Basic English. But the letters representing sound in the phonetic alphabet were each capable of variation several different ways—length, stress, pitch, rising, falling. The more trained an ear was the larger the number of possible variations; there was no limit to variations, but, without much refinement of accepted phonetic practice, it was possible to establish a one-to-one relationship with Basic English so that one phonetic symbol was equivalent to an entire word in a “normal” language, one Speedtalk word was equal to an entire sentence. The language consequently was learned by letter units rather than by word units—but each word was spoken and listened to as a single structured gestalt.

But Speedtalk was not “shorthand” Basic English. “Normal” languages, having their roots in days of superstition and ignorance, have in them inherently and inescapably wrong structures of mistaken ideas about the universe. One can think logically in English only by extreme effort, so bad it is as a mental tool. For example, the verb “to be” in English has twenty-one distinct meanings, every single one of which is false-to-fact.

A symbolic structure, invented instead of accepted without question, can be made similar in structure to the real-world to which it refers. The structure of Speedtalk did not contain the hidden errors of English; it was structured as much like the real world as the New Men could make it. For example, it did not contain the unreal distinction between nouns and verbs found in most other languages. The world—the continuum known to science and including all human activity—does not contain “noun things” and “verb things”; it contains space-time events and relationships between them. The advantage for achieving truth, or something more nearly like truth, was similar to the advantage of keeping account books in Arabic numerals rather than Roman.

All other languages made scientific, multi-valued logic almost impossible to achieve; in Speedtalk it was as difficult not to be logical. Compare the pellucid Boolean logic with the obscurities of the Aristotelean logic it supplanted.

Paradoxes are verbal, do not exist in the real world—and Speedtalk did not have such built into it. Who shaves the Spanish Barber? Answer: follow him around and see. In the syntax of Speedtalk the paradox of the Spanish Barber could not even be expressed, save as a self-evident error.

But Joe Greene-Gilead-Briggs could not learn it until he had learned to hear, by learning to speak. He slaved away; the screen continued to remain lighted with his errors.

Came finally a time when Joe’s pronunciation of a sentence-word blanked out Gail’s sample; the screen turned dark. He felt more triumph over that than anything he could remember.

His delight was short. By a circuit Gail had thoughtfully added some days earlier the machine answered with a flourish of trumpets, loud applause, and then added in a cooing voice, “Mama’s good boy!”

He turned to her. “Woman, you spoke of matrimony. If you ever do manage to marry me, I’ll beat you.”

“I haven’t made up my mind about you yet,” she answered evenly. “Now try this word, Joe—”

Baldwin showed up that evening, called him aside. “Joe! C’mere. Listen, lover boy, you keep your animal nature out of your work, or I’ll have to find you a new teacher.”

“But—”

“You heard me. Take her swimming, take her riding, after hours you are on your own. Work time—strictly business. I’ve got plans for you; I want you to get smarted up.”

“She complained about me?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s my business to know what’s going on.”

“Hmm. Kettle Belly, what is this shopping-for-a-husband she kids about? Is she serious, or is it just intended to rattle me?”

“Ask her. Not that it matters, as you won’t have any choice if she means it. She has the calm persistence of the law of gravitation.”

“Ouch! I had had the impression that the ‘New Men’ did not bother with marriage and such like, as you put it, ‘monkey customs.’ ”

“Some do, some don’t. Me, I’ve been married quite a piece, but I mind a mousy little member of our lodge who had had nine kids by nine fathers—all wonderful genius-plus kids. On the other hand I can point out one with eleven kids—Thalia Wagner—who has never so much as looked at another man, Geniuses make their own rules in such matters, Joe; they always have. Here are some established statistical facts about genius, as shown by Armatoe’s work—”

He ticked them off. “Geniuses are usually long lived. They are not modest, not honestly so. They have infinite capacity for taking pains. They are emotionally indifferent to accepted codes of morals—they make their own rules. You seem to have the stigmata, by the way.”

“Thanks for nothing. Maybe I should have a new teacher, if there is anyone else available who can do it.”

“Any of us can do it, just as anybody handy teaches a baby to talk. She’s actually a biochemist, when she has time for it.”

“When she has time?”

“Be careful of that kid, son. Her real profession is the same as yours—honorable hatchet man. She’s killed upwards of three hundred people.” Kettle Belly grinned. “If you want to switch teachers, just drop me a wink.”

Gilead-Greene hastily changed the subject. “You were speaking of work for me: how about Mrs. Keithley? Is she still alive?”

“Yes, blast her.”

“Remember, I’ve got dibs on her.”

“You may have to go to the Moon to get her. She’s reported to be building a vacation home there. Old age seems to be telling on her; you had better get on with your homework if you want a crack at her.” Moon Colony even then was a center of geriatrics for the rich. The low gravity was easy on their hearts, made them feel young—and possibly extended their lives.

“Okay, I will.”

Instead of asking for a new teacher Joe took a highly polished apple to their next session. Gail ate it, leaving him very little core, and put him harder to work than ever. While perfecting his hearing and pronunciation, she started him on the basic thousand-letter vocabulary by forcing him to start to talk simple three and four-letter sentences, and by answering him in different word-sentences using the same phonetic letters. Some of the vowel and consonant sequences were very difficult to pronounce.

Master them he did. He had been used to doing most things easier than could those around him; now he was in very fast company. He stretched himself and began to achieve part of his own large latent capacity. When he began to catch some of the dinner-table conversation and to reply in simple Speedtalk—being forbidden by Gail to answer in English—she started him on the ancillary vocabularies.

An economical language cannot be limited to a thousand words; although almost every idea can be expressed somehow in a short vocabulary, higher orders of abstraction are convenient. For technical words Speedtalk employed an open expansion of sixty of the thousand-odd phonetic letters. They were the letters ordinarily used as numerals; by preceding a number with a letter used for no other purpose, the symbol was designated as having a word value.

New Men numbered to the base sixty—three times four times five, a convenient, easily factored system, most economical, i.e., the symbol “100” identified the number described in English as thirty-six hundred—yet permitting quick, in-the-head translation from common notation to Speedtalk figures and vice versa.

By using these figures, each prefaced by the indicator—a voiceless Welsh or Burmese “1”—a pool of 215,999 words (one less than the cube of sixty) were available for specialized meaning without using more than four letters including the indicator. Most of them could be pronounced as one syllable. These had not the stark simplicity of basic Speedtalk; nevertheless words such as “ichthyophagous” and “constitutionality” were thus compressed to monosyllables. Such shortcuts can best be appreciated by anyone who has heard a long speech in Cantonese translated into a short speech in English. Yet English is not the most terse of “normal” languages—and expanded Speedtalk is many times more economical than the briefest of “normal” tongues.

By adding one more letter (sixty to the fourth power) just short of thirteen million words could be added if needed—and most of them could still be pronounced as one syllable.

When Joe discovered that Gail expected him to learn a couple hundred thousand new words in a matter of days, he balked. “Damn it, Fancy Pants, I am not a superman. I’m in here by mistake.”

“Your opinion is worthless; I think you can do it. Now listen.”

“Suppose I flunk; does that put me safely off your list of possible victims?”

“If you flunk, I wouldn’t have you on toast. Instead I’d tear your head off and stuff it down your throat. But you won’t flunk; I know. However,” she added, “I’m not sure you would be a satisfactory husband; you argue too much.”

He made a brief and bitter remark in Speedtalk; she answered with one word which described his shortcomings in detail. They got to work.

Joe was mistaken; he learned the expanded vocabulary as fast as he heard it. He had a latent eidetic memory; the Renshawing process now enabled him to use it fully. And his mental processes, always fast, had become faster than he knew.

The ability to learn Speedtalk at all is proof of supernormal intelligence; the use of it by such intelligence renders that mind efficient. Even before World War II Alfred Korzybski had shown that human thought was performed, when done efficiently, only in symbols; the notion of “pure” thought, free of abstracted speech symbols, was merely fantasy. The brain was so constructed as to work without symbols only on the animal level; to speak of “reasoning” without symbols was to speak nonsense.

Speedtalk did not merely speed up communication—by its structures it made thought more logical; by its economy it made thought processes enormously faster, since it takes almost as long to think a word as it does to speak it.

Korzybski’s monumental work went fallow during the communist interregnum; Das Kapital is a childish piece of work, when analyzed by semantics, so the politburo suppressed semantics—and replaced it by ersatz under the same name, as Lysenkoism replaced the science of genetics.

Having Speedtalk to help him learn more Speedtalk, Joe learned very rapidly. The Renshawing had continued; he was now able to grasp a gestalt or configuration in many senses at once, grasp it, remember it, reason about it with great speed.

Living time is not calendar time; a man’s life is the thought that flows through his brain. Any man capable of learning Speedtalk had an association time at least three times as fast as an ordinary man. Speedtalk itself enabled him to manipulate symbols approximately seven times as fast as English symbols could be manipulated. Seven times three is twenty-one; a new man had an effective life time of at least sixteen hundred years, reckoned in flow of ideas.

They had time to become encyclopedic synthesists, something denied any ordinary man by the straitjacket of his sort of time.

When Joe had learned to talk, to read and write and cipher, Gail turned him over to others for his real education. But before she checked him out she played him several dirty tricks.

For three days she forbade him to eat. When it was evident that he could think and keep his temper despite low blood-sugar count, despite hunger reflex, she added sleeplessness and pain—intense, long, continued, and varied pain. She tried subtly to goad him into irrational action; he remained bedrock steady, his mind clicking away at any assigned task as dependably as an electronic computer.

“Who’s not a superman?” she asked at the end of their last session.

“Yes, teacher.”

“Come here, lug.” She grabbed him by the ears, kissed him soundly. “So long.” He did not see her again for many weeks.

His tutor in E.S.P. was an ineffectual-looking little man who had taken the protective coloration of the name Weems. Joe was not very good at producing E.S.P. phenomena. Clairvoyance he did not appear to have. He was better at precognition, but he did not improve with practice. He was best at telekinesis; he could have made a soft living with dice. But, as Kettle Belly had pointed out, from affecting the roll of dice to moving tons of freight was quite a gap—and one possibly not worth bridging.

“It may have other uses, however,” Weems had said softly, lapsing into English. “Consider what might be done if one could influence the probability that a neutron would reach a particular nucleus—or change the statistical probability in a mass.”

Gilead let it ride; it was an outrageous thought.

At telepathy he was erratic to exasperation. He called the Rhine cards once without a miss, then had poor scores for three weeks. More highly structured communication seemed quite beyond him, until one day without apparent cause but during an attempt to call the cards by telepathy, he found himself hooked in with Weems for all of ten seconds—time enough for a thousand words by Speedtalk standards.

it comes out as speech!

why not? thought is speech.

how do we do it?

if we knew it would not be so unreliable, as it is, some can do it by volition, some by accident, and some never seem to be able to do it. We do know this: while thought may not be of the physical world in any fashion we can now define and manipulate, it is similar to events in continuum in its quantal nature. You are now studying the extension of the quantum concept to all features of the continuum, you know the chronon, the mensum, and the viton, as quanta, as well as the action units of quanta such as the photon. The continuum has not only structure but texture in all its features. The least unit of thought we term the psychon.

define it. Put salt on its tail.

some day, some day. I can tell you this; the fastest possible rate of thought is one psychon per chronon; this is a basic, universal constant.

how close do we come to that?

less than sixty-to-the-minus-third-power of the possibility.

! ! ! ! !

better creatures than ourselves will follow us. We pick pebbles at a boundless ocean.

what can we do to improve it?

gather our pebbles with serene minds.

Gilead paused for a long split second of thought.—can psychons be destroyed?

vitons may be transferred, psychons are

The connection was suddenly destroyed. “As I was saying,” Weems went on quietly, “psychons are as yet beyond our comprehension in many respects. Theory indicates that they may not be destroyed, that thought, like action, is persistent Whether or not such theory, if true, means that personal identity is also persistent must remain an open question. See the daily papers—a few hundred years from now—or a few hundred thousand.” He stood up.

“I’m anxious to try tomorrow’s session, Doc,” Gilead-Greene almost bubbled. “Maybe—”

“I’m finished with you.”

“But, Doctor Weems that connection was clear as a phone hook-up. Perhaps tomorrow—”

“We have established that your talent is erratic. We have no way to train it to dependability. Time is too short to waste, mine and yours.” Lapsing suddenly into English, he added, “No.”

Gilead left.

During his training in other fields Joe was exposed to many things best described as impressive gadgets. There was an integrating pantograph, a factory-in-a-box, which the New Men planned to turn over to ordinary men as soon as the social system was no longer dominated by economic wolves. It could and did reproduce almost any prototype placed on its stage, requiring thereto only materials and power. Its power came from a little nucleonics motor the size of Joe’s thumb; its theory played hob with conventional notions of entropy. One put in “sausage”; one got out “pig.”

Latent in it was the shape of an economic system as different from the current one as the assembly-line economy differed from the family-shop system—and in such a system lay possibilities of human freedom and dignity missing for centuries, if they had ever existed.

In the meantime New Men rarely bought more than one of anything—a pattern. Or they made a pattern.

Another useful but hardly wonderful gadget was a dictaphone-typewriter-printing-press combination. The machine’s analysers recognized each of the thousand-odd phonetic symbols; there was a typebar for each sound. It produced one or many copies. Much of Gilead’s education came from pages printed by this gadget, saving the precious time of others.

The arrangement, classification, and accessibility of knowledge remain in all ages the most pressing problem. With the New Men, complete and organized memory licked most of the problem and rendered record keeping, most reading and writing—and most especially the time-destroying trouble of rereading—unnecessary. The autoscriber gadget, combined with a “librarian” machine that could “hear” that portion of Speedtalk built into it as a filing system, covered most of the rest of the problem. New Men were not cluttered with endless bits of paper. They never wrote memoranda.

The area under the ranch was crowded with technological wonders, all newer than next week. Incredibly tiny manipulators for micrurgy of all sorts, surgical, chemical, biological manipulation, oddities of cybernetics only less complex than the human brain—the list is too long to describe. Joe did not study all of them; an encyclopedic synthesist is concerned with structured shapes of knowledge; he cannot, even with Speed-talk, study details in every field.

Early in his education, when it was clear that he had had the potential to finish the course, plastic surgery was started to give him a new identity and basic appearance. His height was reduced by three inches; his skull was somewhat changed; his complexion was permanently darkened. Gail picked the facial appearance he was given; he did not object. He rather liked it; it seemed to fit his new inner personality.

With a new face, a new brain, and a new outlook, he was almost in fact a new man. Before he had been a natural genius; now he was a trained genius.

“Joe, how about some riding?”

“Suits.”

“I want to give War Conqueror some gentle exercise. He’s responding to the saddle; I don’t want him to forget.”

“Right with you.”

Kettle Belly and Gilead-Greene rode out from the ranch buildings. Baldwin let the young horse settle to a walk and began to talk. “I figure you are about ready for work son.”

Even in Speedtalk Kettle Belly’s speech retained his own flavor.

“I suppose so, but I still have those mental reservations.”

“Not sure we are on the side of the angels?”

“I’m sure you mean to be. It’s evident that the organization selects for good will and humane intentions quite as carefully as for ability. I wasn’t sure at one time—”

“Yes?”

“That candidate who came here about six months ago, the one who broke his neck in a riding accident.”

“Oh, yes! Very sad.”

“Very opportune, you mean, Kettle Belly.”

“Damn it, Joe, if a bad apple gets in this far, we can’t let him out.” Baldwin reverted to English for swearing purposes; he maintained that it had “more juice.”

“I know it. That’s why I’m sure about the quality of our people.”

“So it’s ‘our people’ now?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure we are on the right track.”

“What’s your notion of the right track?”

“We should come out of hiding and teach the ordinary man what he can learn of what we know. He could learn a lot of it and could use it. Properly briefed and trained, he could run his affairs pretty well. He would gladly kick out the no-goods who ride on his shoulders, if only he knew how. We could show him. That would be more to the point than this business of spot assassination, now and then, here and there—mind you, I don’t object to killing any man who merits killing; I simply say it’s inefficient. No doubt we would have to continue to guard against such crises as the one that brought you and me together, but, in the main, people could run their own affairs if we would just stop pretending that we are so scared we can’t mix with people, come out of our hole, and lend a hand.”

Baldwin reined up. “Don’t say that I don’t mix with the common people, Joe; I sell used ’copters for a living. You can’t get any commoner. And don’t imply that my heart is not with them. We are not like them, but we are tied to them by the strongest bond of all, for we are all, each every one, sickening with the same certainly fatal disease—we are alive.

“As for our killings, you don’t understand the principles of assassination as a political weapon. Read—” He named a Speedtalk library designation. “If I were knocked off, our organization wouldn’t even hiccup, but organizations for bad purposes are different. They are personal empires; if you pick the time and the method, you can destroy such an organization by killing one man—the parts that remain will be almost harmless until assimilated by another leader—then you kill him. It is not inefficient; it’s quite efficient, if planned with the brain and not with the emotions.

“As for keeping ourselves separate, we are about like the U-235 in U-238, not effective unless separated out. There have been potential New Men in every generation, but they were spread too thin.

“As for keeping our existence secret, it is utterly necessary if we are to survive and increase. There is nothing so dangerous as being the Chosen People—and in the minority. One group was persecuted for two thousand years merely for making the claim.”

He again shifted to English to swear. “Damn it, Joe, face up to it. This world is run the way my great aunt Susie flies a ’copter. Speedtalk or no Speedtalk, common man can’t learn to cope with modern problems. No use to talk about the unused potential of his brain, he has not got the will to learn what he would have to know. We can’t fit him out with new genes, so we have to lead him by the hand to keep him from killing himself—and us. We can give him personal liberty, we can give him autonomy in most things, we can give him a great measure of personal dignity—and we will, because we believe that individual freedom, at all levels, is the direction of evolution, of maximum survival value. But we can’t let him fiddle with issues of racial life and death; he ain’t up to it.

“No help for it. Each shape of society develops its own ethic. We are shaping this the way we are inexorably forced to, by the logic of events. We think we are shaping it toward survival.”

“Are we?” mused Greene-Gilead.

“Remains to be seen. Survivors survive. We’ll know—Wup! Meeting’s adjourned.”

The radio on Baldwin’s pommel was shrilling his personal emergency call. He listened, then spoke one sharp word in Speedtalk. “Back to the house, Joel” He wheeled and was away. Joe’s mount came of less selected stock; he was forced to follow.

Baldwin sent for Joe soon after he got back. Joe went in; Gail was already there.

Baldwin’s face was without expression. He said in English, “I’ve work for you, Joe, work you won’t have any doubt about. Mrs. Keithley.”

“Good.”

“Not good.” Baldwin shifted to Speedtalk. “We have been caught flat-footed. Either the second set of films was never destroyed, or there was a third set. We do not know; the man who could tell us is dead. But Mrs. Keithley obtained a set and has been using them.

“This is the situation. The ‘fuse’ of the nova effect has been installed in the New Age Hotel. It has been sealed off and can be triggered only by radio signal from the Moon—her signal. The ‘fuse’ has been rigged so that any attempt to break in, as long as the firing circuit is still armed, will trigger it and set it off. Even an attempt to examine it by penetration wavelengths will set it off. Speaking as a physicist, it is my considered opinion that no plan for tackling the ‘nova’ fuse bomb itself will work unless the arming circuit is first broken on the Moon and that no attempt should be made to get at fuse before then, because of extreme danger to the entire planet.

“The arming circuit and the radio relay to the Earthside trigger are located on the Moon in a building inside her private dome. The triggering control she keeps with her. From the same control she can disarm the arming circuit temporarily; it is a combination dead-man switch and time-clock arrangement. It can be set to disarm for a maximum of twelve hours, to let her sleep, or possibly to permit her to order rearrangements. Unless it is switched off any attempt to enter the building in which the arming circuit is housed will also trigger the ‘Nova’ bomb circuit. While it is disarmed, the housing on the Moon may be broached by force but this will set off alarms which will warn her to rearm and then to trigger at once. The set up is such that the following sequence of events must take place:

“First, she must be killed, and the circuit disarmed.

“Second, the building housing the arming circuit and radio relay to the trigger must be broken open and the circuits destroyed before the time clock can rearm and trigger. This must be done with speed, not only because of guards, but because her surviving lieutenants will attempt to seize power by possessing themselves of the controls.

“Third, as soon as word is received on Earth that the arming circuit is destroyed, the New Age will be attacked in force and the ‘Nova’ bomb destroyed.

“Fourth, as soon as the bomb is destroyed, a general round up must be made of all persons technically capable of setting up the ‘Nova’ effect from plans. This alert must be maintained until it is certain that no plans remain in existence, including the third set of films, and further established by hypno that no competent person possesses sufficient knowledge to set it up without plans. This alert may compromise our secret status; the risk must be taken.

“Any questions?”

“Kettle Belly,” said Joe, “Doesn’t she know that if the Earth becomes a Nova, the Moon will be swallowed up in the disaster?”

“Crater walls shield her dome from line-of-sight with Earth; apparently she believes she is safe. Evil is essentially stupid, Joe; despite her brilliance, she believes what she wishes to believe. Or it may be that she is willing to risk her own death against the tempting prize of absolute power. Her plan is to proclaim power with some pious nonsense about being high priestess of peace—a euphemism for Empress of Earth. It is a typical paranoid deviation; the proof of the craziness lies in the fact that the physical arrangements make it certain—if we do not intervene—that Earth will be destroyed automatically a few hours after her death; a thing that could happen any time—and a compelling reason for all speed. No one has ever quite managed to conquer all of Earth, not even the commissars. Apparently she wishes not only to conquer it, but wants to destroy it after she is gone, lest anyone else ever manage to do so again. Any more questions?”

He went on, “The plan is this:

“You two will go to the Moon to become domestic servants to Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Copley, a rich, elderly couple living at the Elysian Rest Homes, Moon Colony. They are of us. Shortly they will decide to return to Earth; you two will decide to remain, you like it. You will advertise, offering to work for anyone who will post your return bond. About this time Mrs. Keithley will have lost through circumstances that will be arranged, two or more of her servants; she will probably hire you, since domestic service is the scarcest commodity on the Moon. If not, a variation will be arranged for you.

“When you are inside her dome, you’ll maneuver yourselves into positions to carry out your assignments. When both of you are so placed, you will carry out procedures one and two with speed.

“A person named McGinty, already inside her dome, will help you in communication. He is not one of us but is our agent, a telepath. His ability does not extend past that. Your communication hook up will probably be, Gail to McGinty by telepathy, McGinty to Joe by concealed radio.”

Joe glanced at Gail; it was the first that he had known that she was a telepath. Baldwin went on, “Gail will kill Mrs. Keithley; Joe will break into the housing and destroy the circuits. Are you ready to go?”

Joe was about to suggest swapping the assignments when Gail answered, “Ready”; he echoed her.

“Good. Joe, you will carry your assumed I.Q. at about 85, Gail at 95; she will appear to be the dominant member of a married couple—” Gail grinned at Joe. “—but you, Joe, will be in charge. Your personalities and histories are now being made up and will be ready with your identifications. Let me say again that the greatest of speed is necessary; government security forces here may attempt a fool-hardy attack on the New Age Hotel. We shall prevent or delay such efforts, but act with speed. Good luck.”

Operation Black Widow, first phase, went off as planned.

Eleven days later Joe and Gail were inside Mrs. Keithley’s dome on the moon and sharing a room in the servants’ quarters. Gail glanced around when first they entered it and said in Speedtalk, “Now you’ll have to marry me; I’m compromised.”

“Shut that up, idiot! Someone might hear you.”

“Pooh! They’d just think I had asthma. Don’t you think it’s noble of me, Joe, to sacrifice my girlish reputation for home and country?”

“What reputation?”

“Come closer so I can slug you.”

Even the servants’ quarters were luxurious. The dome was a sybarite’s dream. The floor of it was gardened in real beauty save where Mrs. Keithley’s mansion stood. Opposite it, across a little lake—certainly the only lake on the Moon—was the building housing the circuits; it was disguised as a little Doric Grecian shrine.

The dome itself was edge-lighted fifteen hours out of each twenty-four, shutting out the black sky and the harsh stars. At “night” the lighting was gradually withdrawn.

McGinty was a gardener and obviously enjoyed his work. Gail established contact with him, got out of him what little he knew. Joe left him alone save for contacts in character.

There was a staff of over two hundred, having its own social hierarchy, from engineers for dome and equipment, Mrs. Keithley’s private pilot, and so on down to gardeners’ helpers. Joe and Gail were midway, being inside servants. Gail made herself popular as the harmlessly flirtatious but always helpful and sympathetic wife of a meek and older husband. She had been a beauty parlor operator, so it seemed, before she “married” and had great skill in massaging aching backs and stiff necks, relieving headaches and inducing sleep. She was always ready to demonstrate.

Her duties as a maid had not yet brought her into close contact with their employer. Joe, however, had acquired the job of removing all potted plants to the “outdoors” during “night”; Mrs. Keithley, according to Mr. James, the butler, believed that plants should be outdoors at “night.” Joe was thus in a position to get outside the house when the dome was dark; he had already reached the point where the night guard at the Grecian temple would sometimes get Joe to “jigger” for him while the guard snatched a forbidden cigaret.

McGinty had been able to supply one more important fact: in addition to the guard at the temple building, and the locks and armor plate of the building itself, the arming circuit was booby-trapped. Even if it were inoperative as an arming circuit for the ‘Nova’ bomb on Earth, it itself would blow up if tampered with. Gail and Joe discussed it in their room, Gail sitting on his lap like an affectionate wife, her lips close to his left ear. “Perhaps you could wreck it from the door, without exposing yourself.”

“I’ve got to be sure. There is certainly some way of switching that gimmick off. She has to provide for possible repairs or replacements.”

“Where would it be?”

“Just one place that matches the pattern of the rest of her planning. Right under her hand, along with the disarming switch and the trigger switch.” He rubbed his other ear; it contained his short-range radio hook-up to McGinty and itched almost constantly.

“Hmm—then there’s just one thing to be done; I’ll have to wring it out of her before I kill her.”

“We’ll see.”

Just before dinner the following “evening” she found him in their room. “It worked, Joe, it worked!”

“What worked?”

“She fell for the bait. She heard from her secretary about my skill as a masseuse; I was ordered up for a demonstration this afternoon. Now I am under strict instructions to come to her tonight and rub her to sleep.”

“It’s tonight, then.”

McGinty waited in his room, behind a locked door. Joe stalled in the back hall, spinning out endlessly a dull tale to Mr. James.

A voice in his ear said, “She’s in her room now.”

“—and that’s how my brother got married to two women at once,” Joe concluded. “Sheer bad luck. I better get these plants outside before the missus happens to ask about ’em.”

“I suppose you had. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mr. James.” He picked up two of the pots and waddled out.

He put them down outside and heard, “She says she’s started to massage. She’s spotted the radio switching unit; it’s on the belt that the old gal keeps at her bedside table when she’s not wearing it.”

“Tell her to kill her and grab it.”

“She says she wants to make her tell how to unswitch the booby-trap gimmick first.”

“Tell her not to delay.”

Suddenly, inside his head, clear and sweet as a bell as if they were her own spoken tones, he heard her. —Joe, I can hear you. Can you hear me?

yes, yes! Aloud he added, “Stand by the phones anyhow, Mac”

I won’t be long. I have her in intense pain; she’ll crack soon.

hurt her plenty! He began to run toward the temple building—Gail, are you still shopping for a husband?

I’ve found him.

marry me and I’ll beat you every Saturday night.

the man who can beat me hasn’t been born.

I’d like to try. He slowed down before he came near the guard’s station. “Hi, Jim!”

it’s a deal.

“Well, if it taint Joey boy! Got a match?”

“Here.” He reached out a hand—then, as the guard fell, he eased him to the ground and made sure that he would stay out.—Gail! It’s got to be now!

The voice in his head came back in great consternation:—Joe! She was too tough, she wouldn’t crack. She’s dead!

good! Get that belt, break the arming circuit, then see what else you find. I’m going to break in.

He went toward the door of the temple.

it’s disarmed, Joe. I could spot it; it has a time set on it. I can’t tell about the others; they aren’t marked and they all look alike.

He took from his pocket a small item provided by Baldwin’s careful planning.—twist them all from where they are to the other way. You’ll probably hit it.

oh, Joe, I hope so!

He had placed the item against the lock; the metal around it turned red and now was melting away. An alarm clanged somewhere.

Gail’s voice came again in his head; there was urgency in it but no fear:—Joe! They’re beating on the door. I’m trapped.

McGinty! Be our witness! He went on:—I, Joseph, take thee, Gail, to be my lawfully wedded wife

He was answered in tranquil rhythm:—I, Gail, take thee, Joseph, to be my lawfully wedded husband

to have and to hold, he went on.

to have and to hold, my beloved!

for better, for worse

for better, for worse

Her voice in his head was singing.—till death do us part. I’ve got it open, darling; I am going in.

till death do us part! They are breaking down the bedroom door, Joseph my dearest.

hang on! I’m almost through here.

they have broken it down, Joe. They are coming toward me. Good-bye my darling! I am very happy. Abruptly her “voice” stopped.

He was facing the box that housed the disarming circuit, alarms clanging in his ears; he took from his pocket another gadget and tried it.

The blast that shattered the box caught him full in the chest. The letters on the metal marker read:

TO THE MEMORY OF

MR. AND MRS. JOSEPH GREENE

WHO, NEAR THIS SPOT,

DIED FOR ALL THEIR FELLOW MEN.

THE END

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The Rocket Man (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

Here is a classic story from Ray Bradbury. It’s titled “The Rocket Man.” It’s one of the first groups (or clusters) of stories that he compiled. And it’s a real beauty. It was written at a time when everyone thought of space and science fiction as gorilla suits and deep sea diving helmets, that rode in flying silver saucers that came from Mars. Here, he talks about the dreams of the man of a household and the consequences of him following that dream on those left behind.

It’s wonderful. Enjoy.

Ray Bradbury. The Rocket Man

                The Rocket Man
                1951

     The  electrical  fireflies  were hovering above Mother’s dark hair to light
her  path.  She  stood  in her bedroom door looking out at me as I passed in the
silent hall. “You will help me keep him here this time, won’t you?” she asked.
     “I guess so,” I said.
     “Please.”  The fireflies cast moving bits of light on her white face. “This
time he mustn’t go away again.”
     “All  right,”  I  said, after standing there a moment. “But it won’t do any
good; it’s no use.”
     She  went  away,  and  the fireflies, on their electric circuits, fluttered
after  her  like an errant constellation, showing her how to walk in darkness. I
heard her say, faintly, “We’ve got to try, anyway.”
     Other  fireflies  followed  me to my room. When the weight of my body cut a
circuit in the bed, the fireflies winked out. It was midnight, and my mother and
I  waited, our rooms separated by darkness, in bed. The bed began to rock me and
sing  to  me. I touched a switch; the singing and rocking stopped. I didn’t want
to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep at all.
     This  night  was  no different from a thousand others in our time. We would
wake  nights  and  feel the cool air turn hot, feel the fire in the wind, or see
the  walls burned a bright color for an instant, and then we knew his rocket was
over  our house-his rocket, and the oak trees swaying from the concussion. And I
would  lie  there,  eyes  wide, panting, and Mother in her room. Her voice would
come to me over the interroom radio:
     “Did you feel it?”
     And I would answer, “That was him, all right.”
     That  was  my father’s ship passing over our town, a small town where space
rockets  never  came,  and  we would lie awake for the next two hours, thinking,
“Now  Dad’s  landed in Springfield, now he’s on the tarmac, now he’s signing the
papers,  now he’s in the helicopter, now he’s over the river, now the hills, now
he’s settling the helicopter in at the little airport at Green Village here….”
And  the  night would be half over when, in our separate cool beds, Mother and I
would  be  listening,  listening.  “Now he’s walking down Bell Street. He always
walks  …  never  takes a cab … now across the park, now turning the comer of
Oakhurst and now…”
     I  lifted  my  head  from my pillow. Far down the street, coming closer and
closer, smartly, quickly, briskly-footsteps. Now turning in at our house, up the
porch  steps.  And we were both smiling in the cool darkness. Mom and I, when we
heard  the  front  door  open in recognition, speak a quiet word of welcome, and
shut, downstairs….
     Three hours later I turned the brass knob to their room quietly, holding my
breath, balancing in a darkness as big as the space between the planets, my hand
out  to  reach  the  small  black  case at the foot of my parents’ sleeping bed.
Taking  it,  I  ran  silently to my room, thinking, He won’t tell me, he doesn’t
want me to know.
     And  from  the  opened case spilled his black uniform, like a black nebula,
stars  glittering  here or there, distantly, in the material. I kneaded the dark
stuff in my warm hands; I smelled the planet Mars, an iron smell, and the planet
Venus,  a  green ivy smell, and the planet Mercury, a scent of sulphur and fire;
and I could smell the milky moon and the hardness of stars. I pushed the uniform
into  a  centrifuge  machine  I’d built in my ninth-grade shop that year, set it
whirling.  Soon  a  fine  powder precipitated into a retort. This I slid under a
microscope.  And while my parents slept unaware, and while our house was asleep,
all  the automatic bakers and servers and robot cleaners in an electric slumber,
I stared down upon brilliant motes of meteor dust, comet tail, and loam from far
Jupiter  glistening like worlds themselves which drew me down the tube a billion
miles into space, at terrific accelerations.
     At dawn, exhausted with my journey and fearful of discovery, I returned the
boxed uniform to their sleeping room.
     Then  I  slept,  only to waken at the sound of the horn of the dry-cleaning
car  which stopped in the yard below. They took the black uniform box with them.
It’s  good  I  didn’t wait, I thought. For the uniform would be back in an hour,
clean of all its destiny and travel.
     I  slept  again,  with the little vial of magical dust in my pajama pocket,
over my beating heart.
     When  I  came downstairs, there was Dad at the breakfast table, biting into
his toast. “Sleep good, Doug?” he said, as if he had been here all the time, and
hadn’t been gone for three months.
     “All right,” I said.
     “Toast?”
     He  pressed  a  button  and the breakfast table made me four pieces, golden
brown.
     I  remember  my  father  that afternoon, digging and digging in the garden,
like  an animal after something, it seemed. There he was with his long dark arms
moving  swiftly,  planting,  tamping,  fixing,  cutting,  pruning, his dark face
always  down to the soil, his eyes always down to what he was doing, never up to
the  sky, never looking at me, or Mother, even, unless we knelt with him to feel
the  earth  soak up through the overalls at our knees, to put our hands into the
black dirt and not look at the bright, crazy sky. Then he would glance to either
side,  to  Mother  or  me, and give us a gentle wink, and go on, bent down, face
down, the sky staring at his back.
     That  night  we sat on the mechanical porch swing which swung us and blew a
wind  upon us and sang to us. It was summer and moonlight and we had lemonade to
drink,   and  we  held  the  cold  glasses  in  our  hands,  and  Dad  read  the
stereo-newspapers  inserted  into the special hat you put on your head and which
turned the microscopic page in front of the magnifying lens if you blinked three
times  in succession. Dad smoked cigarettes and told me about how it was when he
was  a  boy in the year 1997. After a while he said, as he had always said, “Why
aren’t you out playing kick-the-can, Doug?”
     I  didn’t  say  anything, but Mom said, “He does, on nights when you’re not
here.”
     Dad  looked at me and then, for the first time that day, at the sky. Mother
always watched him when he glanced at the stars. The first day and night when he
got  home  he  wouldn’t  look at the sky much. I thought about him gardening and
gardening  so  furiously,  his face almost driven into the earth. But the second
night  he  looked at the stars a little more. Mother wasn’t afraid of the sky in
the  day  so  much,  but it was the night stars that she wanted to turn off, and
sometimes  I  could  almost see her reaching for a switch in her mind, but never
finding  it.  And  by the third night maybe Dad’d be out here on the porch until
way  after  we were all ready for bed, and then I’d hear Mom call him in, almost
like  she  called me from the street at times. And then I would hear Dad fitting
the  electric-eye  door  lock  in  place,  with  a sigh. And the next morning at
breakfast  I’d  glance  down  and  see his little black case near his feet as he
buttered his toast and Mother slept late.
     “Well, be seeing you, Doug,” he’d say, and we’d shake hands.
     “In about three months?”
     “Right.”
     And  he’d  walk  away down the street, not taking a helicopter or beetle or
bus,  just walking with his uniform hidden in his small underarm case; he didn’t
want anyone to think he was vain about being a Rocket Man.
     Mother  would  come  out to eat breakfast, one piece of dry toast, about an
hour later.
     But  now  it  was  tonight,  the first night, the good night, and he wasn’t
looking at the stars much at all.
     “Let’s go to the television carnival,” I said.
     “Fine,” said Dad.
     Mother smiled at me.
     And  we  rushed off to town in a helicopter and took Dad through a thousand
exhibits,  to keep his face and head down with us and not looking anywhere else.
And  as we laughed at the funny things and looked serious at the serious ones, I
thought.  My father goes to Saturn and Neptune and Pluto, but he never brings me
presents.  Other  boys  whose  fathers go into space bring back bits of ore from
Callisto  and  hunks  of  black  meteor  or  blue sand. But I have to get my own
collection, trading from other boys, the Martian rocks and Mercurian sands which
filled my room, but about which Dad would never comment.
     On occasion, I remembered, he brought something for Mother. He planted some
Martian  sunflowers  once  in  our  yard,  but after he was gone a month and the
sunflowers grew large. Mom ran out one day and cut them all down.
     Without  thinking, as we paused at one of the three-dimensional exhibits, I
asked Dad the question I always asked:
     “What’s it like, out in space?”
     Mother shot me a frightened glance. It was too late.
     Dad  stood  there  for a full half minute trying to find an answer, then he
shrugged.
     “It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things.” Then he caught himself.
“Oh,  it’s  really  nothing at all. Routine. You wouldn’t like it.” He looked at
me, apprehensively.
     “But you always go back.”
     “Habit.”
     “Where’re you going next?”
     “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll think it over.”
     He  always  thought  it  over. In those days rocket pilots were rare and he
could  pick  and choose work when he liked. On the third night of his homecoming
you could see him picking and choosing among the stars.
     “Come on,” said Mother, “let’s go home.”
     It  was still early when we got home. I wanted Dad to put on his uniform. I
shouldn’t  have asked-it always made Mother unhappy-but I could not help myself.
I kept at him, though he
     had  always  refused. I had never seen him in it, and at last he said, “Oh,
all right.”
     We  waited  in  the  parlor  while he went upstairs in the air flue. Mother
looked at me dully, as if she couldn’t believe that her own son could do this to
her. I glanced away. “I’m sorry,” I said.
     “You’re not helping at all,” she said. “At all.”
     There was a whisper in the air flue a moment later.
     “Here I am,” said Dad quietly.
     We looked at him in his uniform.
     It was glossy black with silver buttons and silver rims to the heels of the
black boots, and it looked as if someone had cut the arms and legs and body from
a  dark nebula, with little faint stars glowing through it. It fit as close as a
glove  fits  to  a slender long hand, and it smelled like cool air and metal and
space. It smelled of fire and time.
     Father stood, smiling awkwardly, in the center of the room.
     “Turn around,” said Mother.
     Her eyes were remote, looking at him.
     When  he  was  gone, she never talked of him. She never said anything about
anything but the weather or the condition of my neck and the need of a washcloth
for  it,  or  the fact that she didn’t sleep nights. Once she said the light was
too strong at night.
     “But there’s no moon this week,” I said.
     “There’s starlight,” she said.
     I went to the store and bought her some
     darker,  greener  shades.  As  I lay in bed at night, I could hear her pull
them down tight to the bottom of the windows. It made a long rustling noise.
     Once I tried to mow the lawn.
     “No.” Mom stood in the door. “Put the mower away.”
     So  the  grass went three months at a time without cutting. Dad cut it when
he came home.
     She  wouldn’t let me do anything else either, like repairing the electrical
breakfast  maker  or  the mechanical book reader. She saved everything up, as if
for  Christmas.  And  then  I  would  see Dad hammering or tinkering, and always
smiling at his work, and Mother smiling over him, happy.
     No,  she never talked of him when he was gone. And as for Dad, he never did
anything  to  make  a  contact across the millions of miles. He said once, “If I
called you, I’d want to be with you. I wouldn’t be happy.”
     Once  Dad  said  to  me, “Your mother treats me, sometimes, as if I weren’t
here-as if I were invisible.”
     I had seen her do it. She would look just beyond him, over his shoulder, at
his  chin  or  hands,  but never into his eyes. If she did look at his eyes, her
eyes  were  covered  with a film, like an animal going to sleep. She said yes at
the right times, and smiled, but always a half second later than expected.
     “I’m not there for her,” said Dad.
     But  other  days she would be there and he would be there for her, and they
would  hold  hands  and  walk  around  the block, or take rides, with Mom’s hair
flying  like  a  girl’s  behind  her,  and  she would cut off all the mechanical
devices  in  the  kitchen  and  bake  him incredible cakes and pies and cookies,
looking  deep into his face, her smile a real smile. But at the end of such days
when  he  was  there to her, she would always cry. And Dad would stand helpless,
gazing about the room as if to find the answer, but never finding it.
     Dad turned slowly, in his uniform, for us to see.
     “Turn around again,” said Mom.
     The  next morning Dad came rushing into the house with handfuls of tickets.
Pink rocket tickets for California, blue tickets for Mexico.
     “Come on!” he said. “We’ll buy disposable clothes and bum them when they’re
soiled.  Look,  we  take the noon rocket to L. A., the two-o’clock helicopter to
Santa Barbara, the nine-o’clock plane to Ensenada, sleep overnight!”
     And we went to California and up and down the Pacific Coast for a day and a
half,  settling at last on the sands of Malibu to cook wieners at night. Dad was
always listening or singing or watching things on all sides of him, holding onto
things as if the world were a centrifuge going so swiftly that he might be flung
off away from us at any instant.
     The  last  afternoon at Malibu Mom was up in the hotel room. Dad lay on the
sand beside me
     for  a  long  time  in the hot sun. “Ah,” he sighed, “this is it.” His eyes
were  gently  closed;  he lay on his back, drinking the sun. “You miss this,” he
said.
     He  meant  “on  the  rocket,”  of course. But he never said “the rocket” or
mentioned  the  rocket  and  all the things you couldn’t have on the rocket. You
couldn’t  have  a salt wind on the rocket or a blue sky or a yellow sun or Mom’s
cooking. You couldn’t talk to your fourteen-year-old boy on a rocket.
     “Let’s hear it,’ he said at last.
     And I knew that now we would talk, as we had always talked, for three hours
straight.  All afternoon we would murmur back and forth in the lazy sun about my
school grades, how high I could jump, how fast I could swim.
     Dad  nodded  each  time  I spoke and smiled and slapped my chest lightly in
approval.  We  talked.  We  did  not  talk of rockets or space, but we talked of
Mexico,  where  we  had driven once in an ancient car, and of the butterflies we
had  caught in the rain forests of green warm Mexico at noon, seeing the hundred
butterflies  sucked to our radiator, dying there, beating their blue and crimson
wings,  twitching,  beautiful,  and sad. We talked of such things instead of the
things I wanted to talk about. And he listened to me. That was the thing he did,
as  if  he  was  trying to fill himself up with all the sounds he could hear. He
listened  to  the  wind  and  the falling ocean and my voice, always with a rapt
attention,  a  concentration that almost excluded physical bodies themselves and
kept  only  the sounds. He shut his eyes to listen. I would see him listening to
the  lawn  mower as he cut the grass by hand instead of using the remote-control
device,  and  I  would  see  him  smelling the cut grass as it sprayed up at him
behind the mower in a green fount.
     “Doug,”  he  said,  about  five in the afternoon, as we were picking up our
towels and heading back along the beach near the surf, “I want you to promise me
something.”
     “What?”
     “Don’t ever be a Rocket Man.”
     I stopped.
     “I  mean  it,” he said. “Because when you’re out there you want to be here,
and  when  you’re  here you want to be out there. Don’t start that. Don’t let it
get hold of you.”
     “But-“
     “You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, If I ever get
back  to  Earth  I’ll  stay  there; I’ll never go out again. But I go out, and I
guess I’ll always go out.”
     “I’ve thought about being a Rocket Man for a long time,” I said.
     He  didn’t  hear  me.  “I try to stay here. Last Saturday when I got home I
started trying so damned hard to stay here.”
     I  remembered  him in the garden, sweating, and all the traveling and doing
and  listening, and I knew that he did this to convince himself that the sea and
the  towns  and  the  land and his family were the only real things and the good
things.  But  I  knew where he would be tonight: looking at the jewelry in Orion
from our front porch.
     “Promise me you won’t be like me,” he said.
     I hesitated awhile. “Okay,” I said.
     He shook my hand. “Good boy,” he said.
     The dinner was fine that night. Mom had run about the kitchen with handfuls
of  cinnamon  and dough and pots and pans tinkling, and now a great turkey fumed
on the table, with dressing, cranberry sauce, peas, and pumpkin pie.
     “In the middle of August?” said Dad, amazed.
     “You won’t be here for Thanksgiving.”
     “So I won’t.”
     He sniffed it. He lifted each lid from each tureen and let the flavor steam
over  his  sunburned  face.  He said “Ah” to each. He looked at the room and his
hands. He gazed at the pictures on the wall, the chairs, the table, me, and Mom.
He cleared his throat. I saw him make up his mind. “Lilly?”
     “Yes?”  Mom  looked  across  her  table  which she had set like a wonderful
silver  trap,  a miraculous gravy pit into which, like a struggling beast of the
past  caught in a tar pool, her husband might at last be caught and held, gazing
out through a jail of wishbones, safe forever. Her eyes sparkled.
     “Lilly,” said Dad.
     Go  on,  I  thought crazily. Say it, quick; say you’ll stay home this time,
for good, and never go away; say it!
     Just  then  a  passing helicopter jarred the room and the window pane shook
with a crystal sound. Dad glanced at the window.
     The blue stars of evening were there, and the red planet Mars was rising in
the East.
     Dad  looked  at Mars a full minute. Then he put his hand out blindly toward
me. “May I have some peas,” he said.
     “Excuse me,” said Mother. “I’m going to get some bread.”
     She rushed out into the kitchen.
     “But there’s bread on the table,” I said.
     Dad didn’t look at me as he began his meal.
     I  couldn’t  sleep  that night. I came downstairs at one in the morning and
the  moonlight  was  like  ice on all the housetops, and dew glittered in a snow
field on our grass. I stood in the doorway in my pajamas, feeling the warm night
wind,  and  then  I  knew  that  Dad  was sitting in the mechanical porch swing,
gliding  gently.  I  could  see his profile tilted back, and he was watching the
stars  wheel  over  the  sky. His eyes were like gray crystal there, the moon in
each one.
     I went out and sat beside him.
     We glided awhile in the swing.
     At last I said, “How many ways are there to die in space?”
     “A million.”
     “Name some.”
     “The  meteors  hit you. The air goes out of your rocket. Or comets take you
along  with  them.  Concussion. Strangulation. Explosion. Centrifugal force. Too
much acceleration. Too little. The heat, the cold, the sun, the moon, the stars,
the planets, the asteroids, the planetoids, radiation….”
     “And do they bury you?”
     “They never find you.”
     “Where do you go?”
     “A  billion  miles  away.  Traveling  graves,  they call them. You become a
meteor or a planetoid traveling forever through space.”
     I said nothing.
     “One  thing,”  he  said  later, “it’s quick in space. Death. It’s over like
that. You don’t linger. Most of the time you don’t even know it. You’re dead and
that’s it.”
     We went up to bed.
     It was morning.
     Standing  in  the doorway, Dad listened to the yellow canary singing in its
golden cage.
     “Well, I’ve decided,” he said. “Next time I come home, I’m home to stay.”
     “Dad!” I said.
     “Tell your mother that when she gets up,” he said.
     “You mean it!”
     He nodded gravely. “See you in about three months.”
     And  there  he went off down the street, carrying his uniform in its secret
box,  whistling and looking at the tall green trees and picking chinaberries off
the  chinaberry  bush  as  he brushed by, tossing them ahead of him as he walked
away into the bright shade of early morning….
     I asked Mother about a few things that mom-ing after Father had been gone a
number  of  hours.  “Dad said that sometimes you don’t act as if you hear or see
him,” I said.
     And then she explained everything to me quietly.
     “When  he went off into space ten years ago, I said to myself, ‘He’s dead.’
Or  as good as dead. So think of him dead. And when he comes back, three or four
times  a  year,  it’s  not  him  at all, it’s only a pleasant little memory or a
dream.  And  if  a memory stops or a dream stops, it can’t hurt half as much. So
most of the time I think of him dead-“
     “But other times-“
     “Other  times  I can’t help myself. I bake pies and treat him as if he were
alive,  and  then it hurts. No, it’s better to think he hasn’t been here for ten
years and I’ll never see him again. It doesn’t hurt as much.”
     “Didn’t he say next time he’d settle down.”
     She shook her head slowly. “No, he’s dead. I’m very sure of that.”
     “He’ll  come  alive  again, then,” 1 said. “Ten years ago,” said Mother, “I
thought,  What if he dies on Venus? Then we’ll never be able to see Venus again.
What  if  he dies on Mars? We’ll never be able to look at Mars again, all red in
the  sky,  without  wanting  to  go  in and lock the door. Or what if he died on
Jupiter  or  Saturn  or Neptune? On those nights when those planets were high in
the sky, we wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the stars.” “I guess not,”
I said.
     The message came the next day.
     The  messenger  gave  it to me and I read it standing on the porch. The sun
was  setting.  Mom  stood  in  the  screen  door behind me, watching me fold the
message and put it in my pocket.
     “Mom,” I said.
     “Don’t tell me anything I don’t already know,” she said.
     She didn’t cry.
     Well,  it wasn’t Mars, and it wasn’t Venus, and it wasn’t Jupiter or Saturn
that  killed  him. We wouldn’t have to think of him every time Jupiter or Saturn
or Mars lit up the evening sky.
     This was different.
     His ship had fallen into the sun.
     And  the  sun was big and fiery and merciless, and it was always in the sky
and you couldn’t get away from it.
     So  for  a  long time after my father died my mother slept through the days
and  wouldn’t  go  out.  We  had breakfast at midnight and lunch at three in the
morning,  and  dinner at the cold dim hour of 6 A. M. We went to all-night shows
and went to bed at sunrise.
     And, for a long while, the only days we ever went out to walk were the days
when it was raining and there was no sun.

The End

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Death by a zillion paper cuts, with holes in your wallet. A look at life back in the 1970’s.

I’m not going rehash what has happened since the late 1960’s to the present. It’s pretty obvious. Everyone in America started to monetize everything. Nothing was off limits, and now today, you have to pay for everything. Everything in America comes with a price and nothing is free any longer. It happened in America and the other Western “democracies” followed America’s lead. The UK, Canada, Australia all became enraptured towards money… money… money. All with zero thought going towards how the society would change in the process.

Here, I am just going to remind everyone about some things about everyday life before Americans were turned into “cash cows” for others to profit from.

Introduction

I am minding my own business when I came across this comment…

It wasn't all that long ago that you could come out of High School, get a job, start a family, and the two of you could raise the kids with one staying home to do so while the other went off to work. It might not be glamorous but you could make it work in a decent little 3br, 1ba house. Four people, three bedrooms, a couple sharing one and one for each kid. Television was free over the air, not $100 a month for a "package" from DISH or a cable company. I grew up in one of those houses; there was no A/C, the phone was on a desk with a cord going into the wall and long-distance calls were $2/minute -- and that was when $2 would buy you a pound of high-quality steak!

Well, I have been musing about this for some time.

I have mentioned this to others, and they just laugh at me.

  • My conservative friends tell me that it’s simply because of inflation. But that is a good thing because look at all the cool things we have today. Like ATM’s, computers, cell phones, and the Internet. Inflation is a sign of progress.
  • My liberal friends tell that this is a sign of change. Change is good. We don’t want women to be oppressed and toiling alone in the kitchen all day, being barefoot and pregnant. We need things to be higher cost to make the world a better place.

Um.

I think that are both rationalizing everything.

But it did get me to thinking. And I started to think about my boyhood days growing up in Western Pennsylvania. Ah. It’s certainly a beautiful place. let me tell you.

Typical Pennsylvania with hills and meandering rivers and streams, with old railroad lines that followed the rivers through the large wooded lands.

Here’s some of the many things that we pay for without even thinking about it…

Water was free!

When I was young, water was free. No shit! It came out of the tap in these mechanisms known as “drinking fountains”. You would be able to walk up to one and press the lever and a nice stream of ice-cold, refrigerated, water would come out for you to have.

Public drinking fountain in Dallas Texas. It is quite popular and creates quite the sensation.

When I was young, these drinking fountains were everywhere, and contrary to the contemporaneous narrative about “racism”, I never saw a “white” only drinking fountain. That was something reserved for the Southern States like Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama. I grew up in the mid-West. Our water fountains were either white ceramic or sheet metal affairs.

There weren’t any signs about color.

It was very common to grab a quick drink from one of these contraptions. It wasn’t until I was in High School that the school district allowed vending machines to be installed in the school. The Senior Class would be able to make money from these vending machines to collect money for various school activities. This would be supplemented by such things as school dances, parades, bake sales, and candy bar drives.

Drinking from a school water fountain.

When growing up, we would drink from the water hose. It was always very warm from the sun, and tasted like plastic. It had a bronze contraption at the end like a miniature fireman’s hose. You could twist the mechanism by turning it. It would change the water from a spray into a tight laser-beam that you could use to water distant parts of the yard with (and clean away tough debris).

When I was in sixth grade or so, my father hooked up this micro mini water fountain to the water faucet at the side of the house. It was identical to that of drinking water from the lawn hose. Except that it didn’t taste like like plastic. It was just room temperature water that came straight from the tap. It was nearly identical to that of drinking from the kitchen sink.

It was identical to this…

The house side water fountain.

Boyhood adventures

When we were out hiking or riding our bikes, we would drink from our canteens, or from a hand-pump well. These hand pumps were large metal contraptions that were placed all over the rural covered wells. This happened sometime around the 1940’s I guess. As children and folk had a tendency to fall down the sides of these wells. Not a good thing, don’t you know.

Most of the time the hand-pump would be a cast steel mechanism that sat on top of a cement platform. We would, as kids, pump the handle furiously, and after about five to eight pumps water would start gushing out. One person would pump the water while the other person would try to drink from the fountain. We would either use cupped hands or put our open mouth under the spigot. We would also use this fountain to fill up our army surplus canteens, or boy scout canteens.

Cast iron, or cast steel, hand water pump.

Now, along side the rural roads of Western Pennsylvania were all sorts of natural mountain springs. Here, you really didn’t need a pump at all. You would just dip your hands into the cool water and take a drink, or a gulp of ice cool refreshing water. The water came from a multitude of artesian wells. Some of which had access in the back yards of many a home and farm, but many were also right there along side the roads.

In almost every case, these wells came from a rusty pipe that was shoved into the side of a hill. It would pour out a continuous flow of water and would empty into an old galvanized tub or other such arrangement. Sometimes it would be an old massive kitchen sink, while other times it would be something else. At all times the tub would be murky with moss and other plants associated with it. It would also be mostly overgrown with the typical shrubbery of back road Pennsylvania, such as blackberry bushes, and elderberry vines.

Pennsylvania roadside spring.

Many rural folk, who lived far away from the towns would make weekly trips to these springs and fill up as many buckets and bottles that they could fit in their truck. They claimed that the water tasted much better than the purified tap water. I would tend to agree with them. The minerals in the water certainly made the water taste nice.

The only problem of course, was thirty years later when I ended up with kidney stones from drinking all that hard water. But, as you can guess, that’s another story for another time. And no, it’s not directly traced back to the Pennsylvania springs.

Coke-Cola

Oh, and yes…

There were coke machines. A bottle of coke ran you ten cents, but you needed to drink it right there, and put the bottle back in the wooden box besides the machine. But, I’ll tell you that the glass bottle was really thick and heavy. It felt good in your hand. It fit it well.

Coke machine that dispensed in bottles. The cost was ten cents per bottle, and you had to replaced the used bottle in a wooden crate next to the machine.

Also, it was cold. Ohhh man! So very cold. No, I’m not talking about a refrigerator temperature, I am talking about frosty cold, like borderline freezer temperatures. These were fine memories when you would be able to drink a frosty ice-cold coke for a dime, and relax a spell.

When I got my first job, we had a soda dispensing machine. In it were cans of soda. But none of them had pull up tabs until the mid 1970’s. Instead you needed to use this pointed can opener that hung by the side to punch a triangular hole in the top of the can to drink from.

It would hang on the side of the soda machine by a dirty white string. No one ever took it, or stole it or anything like that. No one even thought about doing so. It was a different time, and people thought differently.

The opener had a sharp pointy side for opening cans, and a blunt rounded end for opening bottles and popping the tops off…

Vintage Vaughn USA 58 Bottle Opener Can Opener, 3.5″ Long

This was used for sodas and just about everything else. This was true with beer as well. When those pull up tabs were introduced, it revolutionized everything! Let me tell you!

A special Event

But really, and quite seriously, drinking soda (or pop) was really a “special” occurrence. For the most part we drank water, milk or Kool-Aide. This was a powder that our mothers would mix with water and put in the refrigerator for us to drink. It came in different flavors like cherry, strawberry and orange. You heat up some water, add the powder, and then add a ton load of white sugar. Stir. Place in the refrigerator.

Easy peasy. Lemon squeezy.

At Supper, we would have a big glass of milk or water. Both would be very cold. Winter or Summer. Cold beverages was considered a good thing. In fact, if we had water at the table, you can guarantee that it was served with ice cubes. Frosty. Oh, so very frosty.

But the soda, well that was for visits to our grandparents.

Typical Pittsburgh basement. Our grandparents would store cases of beer and soda on the stairs leading down to the basement.

Prior to every visit, our grandparents would go to the “State Store” and buy some cases of beer and soda for us kids. These cases would sit in the cool basement, and while we were visiting, we would be able to drink all the soda that we were capable of.

Now, in Pennsylvania the only place your could buy alcohol is though a “State Store”. These are government stores that enable you to buy booze. They had the distinction of being open during government hours, and tended to be inconvenient. So what we all would do is make a “beer run” prior to the weekend to stock up on the libations for the weekend.

Pennsylvania State Liquor Store.

Now of course, things are different.

You can buy beer in convenience stores, and other places that are so authorized. But in those days the government had a complete monopoly on the distribution of alcohol. Why? Well, it was for the children, don’t you know.

Today…

I would say that most people who drink soda would probably get it as part of a fast food meal. My guess is that this would be the greatest revenue generation source. Aside from that they would purchase these huge… HUGE… bottles of mega-cola from Walmart or some other retailer.

Judging from the appearance of most Americans, I would guess that they drink a lot of sugary drinks.

They also might like to buy a bottled water from a 7-11 or some other convenience store. They come in all sizes and shapes. They are pretty cheap.

But…

But…

Not as cheap as in “free”. Don’t you know.

Which is where I will make this important point. Most expensive bottled water is nothing more than plain tap water put in a nice bottle and assigned a heavy price. Just like this picture so clearly indicates…

Students at Humboldt State University created this display to educate peers on the perceived ills of bottled water, ahead of a campus-wide ban.

And we know that most bottled water is simply repackaged tap water. Because we have tested the water and that is exactly what it is…

So… when?

So why am I ranting on so? What is the point that I am trying to make? Why does this matter? And what is the point of all of this?

  • When did we reach this point where we all thought it was fine to start paying for things that were free? When did we start tearing out the water fountains, and buying plastic bottles of water?

Not only that…

  • When did we stop getting free packs of stick matches at the restaurant counters everywhere, to buying disposable lighters? At what point in time did we think that paying for a disposable lighter was a more attractive option than a free package of matches?

Or…

  • When did the transformation from a blue plate meal in a unique family restaurant be replaced with a fast food pre-packaged burger in a styrofoam package? What ever happened to the heavy white plates? The thick (bang on the counter) mug of coffee, and the sprig of parsley at the side of the plate?

Or…

  • At what point in time were washable linen tablecloths replaced with plastic tabletops, cloth napkins with paper tissue, and silverware replaced with disposable plastic cutlery? Why did everyone switch from reusable linens, to disposable plastic? Why are only the establishments that cater to the wealthy retaining the old ways?

Or even worse…

  • When did buying a tea, or a decaffeinated coffee at a fast food restaurant equate a hot paper cup of water and a package of mix? What’s the point?

Ah. But no one asks these questions. No one does.

But they should. You should.

  • Why do we line up to the “self service” pump to pump our own gas? Why not have the Gas Station Attendant take care of it for us? Is it really about saving money like we have been led to believe…?
  • Why do Americans still pay using paper checks instead of QR code?
  • If cigarettes, cigars, beer, and alcohol can be banned from the workplace “for the children”, then why not unhealthy food, candy, and coffee? And why the workplace, I thought that children couldn’t work until they were of age?

Which makes you wonder…

At what point in time did we allow someone to place the dividing line between what is allowable and what is illegal and give up our own personal decision making process? Since when are there others who can decide what is best for us? Who assigned them to be better than us…

Who?

  • In 1913, a group of oligarchs decided that everyone must pay taxes and report all their financial transactions to the federal government.

Well, it is 2020. How did it all work out?

  • In the 1970’s glass fibers were banned from use. This resulted in most buildings (above the first floor) in the small cities and towns of America being empty and uninhabitable. This in turn, contributed to people moving outside and away from these community centers. Thus creating sprawling suburbs and a decay of down-town community life.

Who was the genius that thought this all up?

Everything is interconnected

Everything is interconnected. You change one thing, and other things will change. Often the smallest change might result in a great deal of massive changes. Changes that might alter the fabric of society.

You make a law that trash can only be collect on Thursday, and the trash from the weekends will pile up in big heaps on the sidewalks.

Thus making children walk on the streets to avoid the refuse.

Thus creating a dangerous situation for the children and the drivers of the cars.

Eventually, someone will get hit.

All because someone made a law by proclamation.

Now, it’s very difficult to pin-point singular changes.

There were other contributing factors.

In the case of the banning of asbestos glass fibers, there were studies that pointed to dangers. And yes, there were other changes going on at the same time. Such as changes in the work-place, and others all within society. And yes, all of these contributed to the end results. And, to be honest, no one could actually predict what the long term consequences would be of their decision making.

But no one cared. All they cared about was the short term impacts. Or, as we like to say in the USA, “the bottom line for the fiscal quarter”.

The United States might officially pretend to work in one way. However, the United States functionally operates pretty much like this;

  • Someone wants a change.
  • Money exchanges hands.
  • One person gets very rich.
  • The public accepts the changes.

Time passes…

  • Consequences of these changes are felt.
  • More money exchanges between different hands.
  • New laws and rules are made.
  • The public accepts the new changes on top of the old changes.

After over two centuries of this, America is [1] a nation of rules, and laws, on top of [2] rules and laws, on top of [3] rules and laws, on top of [4] rules and laws…

It’s a mess.

And the people are upset. And they are starting to lash out.

This is not how to run anything. Not a business. Not a sports team. Not a game. Not a town. Not a factory. Not a school. Not a train. Not an airplane. You cannot run ANYTHING in this way. Things cannot operate in a sustainable manner if you conduct business this way.

Just imagine operating a business like this. Just imagine. 

You run a restaurant. A customer comes in give you $1000 to stop serving bacon. You stop serving bacon. Half of the customers stop coming in.

Another gives you $500 to play advertisements at rock-concert levels.

Another gives you $750 to house livestock in the kitchen.

Two years of this, and the restaurant would be a complete and total wreck.

You just cannot.

Which is why the United States is in such a mess right now.

China used to be like this

Yup. China used to be like this.

The Beijing leadership would act like autocratic king, and make proclamations. Much like is being done in America today. This is America today…

  • You MUST have permission to fish.
  • Tiktok is banned. No American is permitted to own, use or have it on their phones.
  • WeChat is banned. Don’t even think about having anything to do with it.
  • Chinese students are banned from Attending American universities.
  • You are forbidden to eat sunny-side-up eggs.
  • You are forbidden to drink jumbo-sized cokes and soft drinks.

China was like this too.

Then, after a great deal of turmoil, China changed. This received scant reports in the American media, but it was earth-shattering in China. It was called “The Cultural Revolution”, and it forced the government to come up with new ways of doing things. Maybe you heard about it, eh?

Here, a proposal is made…

  • A trial run is conducted.
  • Results are weighed in pros and cons.
  • A pilot run is conducted with the improvements.
  • Results are again weighed in pros and cons.
  • Implementation phase on a local / state level.
  • Again results are monitored over set period of time.
  • A go / no go decision is reached. To either scrap the process, or improve it, or leave as is.

Since this has been implemented in just about every level within China, the implementation of changes has become rapid and successful. Bad ideas are quickly discarded, while good ones are retained.

Of course, no one in the West knows any of this. To them, China is a “regime” run by the evil communist party who makes rules and laws and squashes the helpless citizenry yearning for “freedom” and “democracy”. Ah. All so that America can gin up support for world war III.

Nonsense.

America needs to step up to the plate and up it’s game.

It’s probably too late to do so in any meaningful way.

But…

It’s better late than never.

Oh where was I…

Oh, yeah.

Water.

Water is your most essential consumable. If you do not have fresh potable water, you will die. We have become accustomed to getting water at will. Whether it is from a water fountain, or from a bottle that you pay for in a store, it is something that we take for granted.

Were I to be an evil person, I would secure access to water. So that only those whom I wanted could drink and use it. The rest of the water would be of questionable quality. For all it takes is to drink some bad water and you get a bacterial or viral infection. And if you don’t have antibiotics…

…you will die.

Water is something that we take for granted. We see shelves and shelves of bottled water. We assume that they are good and potable. We see water run out of the tap and take long luxurious showers in it. We never stop to think what it would be like were we to be forced to collect water from a nearby muddy stream or from catch basins.

Conclusion

Water is good, and a valuable part of life. We, in our comfort, have taken it’s availability for granted. We really shouldn’t. back one hundred years ago baths were once a month activity. Water, potable water was a treasure, and all farms and communities husbanded their water supplies.

While I greatly lament the monetization of nearly everything in the United States, we must realize that that this is an artificial reality. Water, like air, and shelter are necessary to life. Those that try to profit from these basics are those that do not care about your life, your family or your well being.

And any government that allows this, should be replaced with one that does.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Happiness Index here…

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MUGWUMP 4 (1959) by Robert Silverberg the complete text of this fine science fiction story

This is a nice tight little science fiction story. It’s pretty much about a normal guy who gets tangled up with forces way beyond his understanding. It’s a cute little comedy and fun recreational reading during these hot July afternoons.

Enjoy.

MUGWUMP FOUR

Al Miller was only trying to phone the Friendly Finance Corpo­ration to ask about an extension on his loan. It was a Murray Hill number, and he had dialed as far as MU-4 when the receiver clicked queerly and a voice said, “Come in, Operator Nine. Oper­ator Nine, do you read me?”

Al frowned. “I didn’t want the operator. There must be some­thing wrong with my phone if—”

“Just a minute. Who are you?”

“I ought to ask you that,” Al said. “What are you doing on the other end of my phone, anyway? I hadn’t even finished dialing. I got as far as MU-4 and—”

“Well? You dialed MUgwump 4 and you got us. What more do you want?” A suspicious pause. “Say, you aren’t Operator Nine!”
“No, I’m not Operator Nine, and I’m trying to dial a Murray Hill number, and how about getting off the line?”

“Hold it, friend. Are you a Normal?”
Al blinked “Yeah—yeah, I like to think so.”
“So how’d you know the Number?”

“Dammit, I didn’t know the number! I was trying to call some­one, and all of a sudden the phone cut out and I got you, whoever the blazes you are.”
“I’m the communications warden at MUgwump 4,” the other said crisply. “And you’re a suspicious individual. We’ll have to in­vestigate you.”

The telephone emitted a sudden burping sound. Al felt as if his feet had grown roots. He could not move at all. It was awkward to be standing there at his own telephone in the privacy of his own room, as unbending as the Apollo Belvedere. Time still moved, he saw. The hand on the big clock above the phone had just shifted from 3:30 to 3:31.

Sweat rivered down his back as he struggled to put down the phone. He fought to lift his left foot. He strained to twitch his right eyelid. No go on all counts; he was frozen, all but his chest mus­cles—thank goodness for that. He still could breathe.

A few minutes later matters became even more awkward when his front door, which had been locked, opened abruptly. Three strangers entered. They looked oddly alike: a trio of Tweedle­dums, no more than five feet high, each wide through the waist, jowly of face and balding of head, each wearing an inadequate sin­gle-breasted blue-serge suit.

Al discovered he could roll his eyes. He rolled them. He wanted to apologize because his unexpected paralysis kept him from act­ing the proper part of a host, but his tongue would not obey. And on second thought, it occurred that the little bald men might be connected in some way with that paralysis.

The reddest-faced of the three little men made an intricate ges­ture and the stasis ended. Al nearly folded up as the tension that gripped him broke. He said, “Just who the deuce—”

We will ask the questions. You are Al Miller?”
Al nodded.

“And obviously you are a Normal. So there has been a grave error. Mordecai, examine the telephone.”

The second little man picked up the phone and calmly disem­boweled it with three involved motions of his stubby hands. He frowned over the telephone’s innards for a moment; then, hum­ming tunelessly, he produced a wire-clipper and severed the tele­phone cord.

“Hold on here,” Al burst out. “You can’t just rip out my phone like that! You aren’t from the phone company!”

“Quiet,” said the spokesman nastily. “Well, Mordecai?”

The second little man said, “Probability one to a million. The cranch interval overlapped and his telephone matrix slipped. His call was piped into our wire by error, Waldemar.”

“So he isn’t a spy?” Waldemar asked.

“Doubtful. As you see, he’s of rudimentary intelligence. His dialing our number was a statistical fluke.”

“But now he knows about Us,” said the third little man in a surprisingly deep voice. “I vote for demolecularization.”

The other two whirled on their companion. “Always blood­thirsty, eh, Giovanni?” said Mordecai. “You’d violate the Code at the snap of a meson.”
“There won’t be any demolecularization while I’m in charge,” added Waldemar.

“What do we do with him, then?” Giovanni demanded. Mordecai said, “Freeze him and take him down to Head­quarters. He’s their problem.”
“I think this has gone about as far as it’s going to go,” Al ex­ploded at last. “However you three creeps got in here, you’d better get yourselves right out again, or—”

“Enough,” Waldemar said. He stamped his foot. Al felt his jaws stiffen. He realized bewilderedly that he was frozen again. And frozen, this time, with his mouth gaping foolishly open.

he trip took about five minutes, and so far as Al was con­cerned, it was one long blur. At the end of the journey the blur lifted for an instant, just enough to give Al one good glimpse of his surroundings—a residential street in what might have been Brook­lyn or Queens (or Cincinnati or Detroit, he thought morbidly)— before he was hustled into the basement of a two-family house. He found himself in a windowless, brightly lit chamber cluttered with complex-looking machinery and with a dozen or so alarmingly identical little bald-headed men.

The chubbiest of the bunch glared sourly at him and asked, “Are you a spy?”

“I’m just an innocent bystander. I picked up my phone and started to dial, and all of a sudden some guy asked me if I was Op­erator Nine. Honest, that’s all.”

“Overlapping of the cranch interval,” muttered Mordecai. “Slipped matrix.”
“Umm. Unfortunate,” the chubby one commented. “We’ll have to dispose of him.”

“Demolecularization is the best way,” Giovanni put in immedi­ately.

“Dispose of him humanely, I mean. It’s revolting to think of taking the life of an inferior being. But he simply can’t remain in this fourspace any longer, not if he Knows.”

“But I don’t know!” Al groaned. “I couldn’t be any more mixed-up if I tried! Won’t you please tell me—”

“Very well,” said the pudgiest one, who seemed to be the leader. “Waldemar, tell him about Us.”

Waldemar said, “You’re now in the local headquarters of a se­cret mutant group working for the overthrow of humanity as you know it. By some accident you happened to dial our private com­munication exchange, MUtant 4—”

“I thought it was MUgwump 4,” Al interjected.

“The code name, naturally,” said Waldemar smoothly. “To continue: You channeled into our communication network. You now know too much. Your presence in this space-time nexus jeop­ardizes the success of our entire movement. Therefore we are forced—”

“To demolecularize—” Giovanni began.

“Forced to dispose of you,” Waldemar continued sternly. “We’re humane beings—most of us—and we won’t do anything that would make you suffer. But you can’t stay in this area of space-time. You see our point of view, of course.”

Al shook his head dimly. These little potbellied men were mu­tants working for the overthrow of humanity? Well, he had no reason to think they were lying to him. The world was full of little potbellied men. Maybe they were all part of the secret organi­zation, Al thought.

“Look,” he said, “I didn’t want to dial your number, get me? It was all a big accident. But I’m a fair guy. Let me get out of here and I’ll keep mum about the whole thing. You can go ahead and overthrow humanity, if that’s what you want to do. I promise not to interfere in any way. If you’re mutants, you ought to be able to look into my mind and see that I’m sincere—”

“We have no telepathic powers,” declared the chubby leader curtly. “If we had, there would be no need for a communications network in the first place. In the second place, your sincerity is not the issue. We have enemies. If you were to fall into their hands—”

“I won’t say a word! Even if they stick splinters under my fingernails, I’ll keep quiet!”

“No. At this stage in our campaign we can take no risks. You’ll have to go. Prepare the temporal centrifuge.”

Four of the little men, led by Mordecai, unveiled a complicated-looking device of the general size and shape of a concrete mixer. Waldemar and Giovanni gently shoved Al toward the machine. It came rapidly to life: dials glowed, indicator needles teetered, loud buzzes and clicks implied readiness.

Al said nervously, “What are you going to do to me?”

Waldemar explained. “This machine will hurl you forward in time. Too bad we have to rip you right out of your temporal ma­trix, but we’ve no choice. You’ll be well taken care of up ahead, though. No doubt by the twenty-fifth century our kind will have taken over completely. You’ll be the last of the Normals. Practi­cally a living fossil. You’ll love it. You’ll be a walking museum piece.”

“Assuming the machine works,” Giovanni put in maliciously. “We don’t really know if it does, you see.”

Al gaped. They were busily strapping him to a cold copper slab in the heart of the machine. “You don’t even know if it works?

“Not really,” Waldemar admitted. “Present theory holds that time-travel works only one way—forward. So we haven’t been able to recover any of our test specimens and see how they reacted. Of course, they do vanish when the machine is turned on, so we know they must go somewhere.”

Oh,” Al said weakly.

He was trussed in thoroughly. Experimental wriggling of his right wrist showed him that. But even if he could get loose, these weird little men would only “freeze” him and put him into the ma­chine again.

His shoulders slumped resignedly. He wondered if anyone would miss him The Friendly Finance Corporation certainly would. But since, in a sense, it was their fault he was in this mess now, he couldn’t get very upset about that. They could always sue his estate for the three hundred dollars he owed them, if his estate was worth that much.

Nobody else was going to mind the disappearance of Albert Miller from the space-time continuum, he thought dourly. His par­ents were dead, he hadn’t seen his one sister in fifteen years, and the girl he used to know in Topeka was married and at last report had three kids.

Still and all, he rather liked 1969. He wasn’t sure how he would take to the twenty-fifth century—or the twenty-fifth century to him.

“Ready for temporal discharge,” Mordecai sang out.

The chubby leader peered up at Al. “We’re sorry about all this, you understand. But nothing and nobody can be allowed to stand in the way of the Cause.”
“Sure,” Al said. “I understand.”

The concrete-mixer part of the machine began to revolve, bear­ing Al with it as it built up tempokinetic potential. Momentum in­creased alarmingly. In the background Al heard an ominous dron­ing sound that grew louder and louder, until it drowned out everything else. His head reeled. The room and its fat little mu­tants went blurry. He heard a pop! like the sound of a breaking balloon.

It was the rupturing of the space-time continuum. Al Miller went hurtling forward along the fourspace track, head first. He shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

When the dizziness stopped, he found himself sitting in the mid­dle of an impeccably clean, faintly yielding roadway, staring up at the wheels of vehicles swishing by overhead at phenomenal speeds. After a moment or two more, he realized they were not airborne, but simply automobiles racing along an elevated roadway made of some practically invisible substance.

So the temporal centrifuge had worked! Al glanced around. A crowd was collecting. A couple of hundred people had formed a big circle. They were pointing and muttering. Nobody approached closer than fifty or sixty feet.
They weren’t potbellied mutants. Without exception they were all straight-backed six-footers with full heads of hair. The women were tall, too. Men and women alike were dressed in a sort of tunic-like garment made of iridescent material that constantly changed colors.

A gong began to ring, rapidly peaking in volume. Al scrambled to his feet and assayed a tentative smile.

“My name’s Miller. I come from 1969. Would somebody mind telling me what year this is, and—”

He was drowned out by two hundred voices screaming in terror. The crowd stampeded away, dashing madly in every direction, as if he were some ferocious monster. The gong continued to clang loudly. Cars hummed overhead. Suddenly Al saw a squat, beetle-shaped black vehicle coming toward him on the otherwise empty road. The car pulled up half a block away, the top sprang open, and a figure clad in what might have been a diver’s suit—or a spacesuit—stepped out and advanced toward Al.
“Dozzinon murrifar volan,” the armored figure called out.

“No speaka da lingo,” Al replied. “I’m a stranger here.”

To his dismay he saw the other draw something shaped like a weapon and point it at him. Al’s hands shot immediately into the air. A globe of bluish light exuded from the broad muzzle of the gun, hung suspended for a moment, and drifted toward Al. He dodged uneasily to one side, but the globe of light followed him, descended, and wrapped itself completely around him.

It was like being on the inside of a soap bubble. He could see out, though distortedly. He touched the curving side of the globe experimentally; it was resilient and springy to the touch, but his finger did not penetrate.

He noticed with some misgiving that his bubble cage was start­ing to drift off the ground. It trailed a rope-like extension, which the man in the spacesuit deftly grabbed and knotted to the rear bumper of his car. He drove quickly away—with Al, bobbing in his impenetrable bubble of light, tagging willy-nilly along like a caged tiger, or like a captured Gaul being dragged through the streets of Rome behind a chariot.

He got used to the irregular motion after a while, and relaxed enough to be able to study his surroundings. He was passing through a remarkably antiseptic-looking city, free from refuse and dust. Towering buildings, all bright and spankingly new-looking, shot up everywhere. People goggled at him from the safety of the pedestrian walkways as he jounced past.

After about ten minutes the car halted outside an imposing building whose facade bore the words ISTFAQ BARNOLL. Three men in spacesuits appeared from within to flank Al’s captor as a kind of honor guard. Al was borne within.

He was nudged gently into a small room on the ground floor. The door rolled shut behind him and seemed to join the rest of the wall; no division line was apparent. A moment later the balloon popped open, and just in time, too; the air had been getting quite stale inside it.

Al glanced around. A square window opened in the wall and three grim-faced men peered intently at him from an adjoining cu­bicle. A voice from a speaker grid above Al’s head said, “Murrifar althrosk?”

“Al Miller, from the twentieth century. And it wasn’t my idea to come here, believe me.”

“Durberal haznik? Quittimar? Dorbfenk?”

Al shrugged. “No parley-voo. Honest, I don’t savvy.”

is three interrogators conferred among themselves—taking what seemed to Al like the needless precaution of switching off the mike to prevent him from overhearing their deliberations. He saw one of the men leave the observation cubicle. When he returned, some five minutes later, he brought with him a tall, gloomy-look­ing man wearing an impressive spade-shaped beard.

The mike was turned on again. Spadebeard said rumblingly, “How be thou hight?”
“Eh?”

“An thou reck the King’s tongue. I conjure thee speak!”

Al grinned. No doubt they had fetched an expert in ancient lan­guages to talk to him. “Right language, but the wrong time. I’m from the twentieth century. Come forward a ways.”

Spadebeard paused to change mental gears. “A thousand par­dons—I mean, sorry. Wrong idiom. Dig me now?”

“I follow you. What year is this?”

“It is 2431. And from whence be you?”

“You don’t quite have it straight, yet. But I’m from 1969.”

“And how come you hither?”

“I wish I knew,” Al said. “I was just trying to phone the loan company, see. . . anyway, I got involved with these little fat guys who wanted to take over the world. Mutants, they said they were. And they decided they had to get rid of me, so they bundled me into their time machine and shot me forward. So I’m here.”
“A spy of the mutated ones, eh?”

“Spy? Who said anything about being a spy? Talk about jump­ing to conclusions! I’m—”

“You have been sent by Them to wreak mischief among us. No transparent story of yours will deceive us. You are not the first to come to our era, you know. And you will meet the same fate the others met.”

Al shook his head foggily. “Look here, you’re making some big mistake. I’m not a spy for anybody. And I don’t want to get in­volved in any war between you and the mutants—”

“The war is over. The last of the mutated ones was extermi­nated fifty years ago.”

“Okay, then. What can you fear from me? Honest, I don’t want to cause any trouble. If the mutants are wiped out, how could my spying help them?”
“No action in time and space is ever absolute. In our fourspace the mutants are eradicated—but they lurk elsewhere, waiting for their chance to enter and spread destruction.”

Al’s brain was swimming. “Okay, let that pass. But I’m not a spy. I just want to be left alone. Let me settle down here some­where—put me on probation—show me the ropes, stake me to a few credits, or whatever you use for money here. I won’t make any trouble.”

“Your body teems with microorganisms of disease long since extinct in this world. Only the fact that we were able to confine you in a force-bubble almost as soon as you arrived here saved us from a terrible epidemic of ancient diseases.”

“A couple of injections, that’s all, and you can kill any bacteria on me,” Al pleaded. “You’re advanced people. You ought to be able to do a simple thing like that.”

“And then there is the matter of your genetic structure,” Spade- beard continued inexorably. “You bear genes long since elimi­nated from humanity as undesirable. Permitting you to remain here, breeding uncontrollably, would introduce unutterable confu­sion. Perhaps you carry latently the same mutant strain that cost humanity so many centuries of bloodshed!”

“No,” Al protested. “Look at me. I’m six feet tall, no pot­belly, a full head of hair—”

“The gene is recessive. But it crops up unexpectedly.”

“I solemnly promise to control my breeding,” Al declared. “I won’t run around scattering my genes all over your shiny new world. That’s a promise.”

“Your appeal is rejected,” came the inflexible reply.

Al shrugged. He knew when he was beaten. “Okay,” he said wearily. “I didn’t want to live in your damn century anyway. When’s the execution?”
Execution?” Spadebeard looked stunned. “The twentieth-cen­tury referent—yes, it is! Dove’s whiskers, do you think we would— would actually—”

He couldn’t get the word out. Al supplied it.

“Put me to death?”

Spadebeard’s expression was sickly. He looked ready to retch. Al heard him mutter vehemently to his companions in the observa­tion cubicle: “Gomirn def larriraog! Egfar!”

“Murrifar althrosk,” suggested one of his companions.

Spadebeard, evidently reassured, nodded. He said to Al, “No doubt a barbarian like yourself would expect to be—to be made dead.” Gulping, he went gamely on. “We have no such vindictive intention.”
“Well, what are you going to do to me?”

“Send you across the timeline to a world where your friends the mutated ones reign supreme,” Spadebeard replied. “It’s the least we can do for you, spy.”

The hidden door of his cell puckered open. Another space-suited figure entered, pointed a gun, and discharged a blob of blue light that drifted toward Al and rapidly englobed him He was drawn by the trailing end out into a corridor.

It hadn’t been a very sociable reception, here in the twenty-fifth Century, he thought as he was tugged along the hallway. In a way, he couldn’t blame them. A time-traveler from the past was bound to be laden down with all sorts of germs. They couldn’t risk letting him run around breathing at everybody. No wonder that crowd of onlookers had panicked when he opened his mouth to speak to them.

The other business, though, that of his being a spy for the mu­tants—he couldn’t figure that out at all. If the mutants had been wiped out fifty years ago, why worry about spies now? At least his species had managed to defeat the underground organization of potbellied little men. That was comforting. He wished he could get back to 1969 if only to snap his fingers in their jowly faces and tell them that all their sinister scheming was going to come to nothing.

Where was he heading now? Spadebeard had said, Across the timeline to a world where the mutated ones reign supreme. What­ever across the timeline meant, Al thought.


He was ushered into an impressive laboratory room and, bubble and all, was thrust into the waiting clasps of something that looked depressingly like an electric chair. Brisk technicians bustled around, throwing switches and checking connections.

Al glanced appealingly at Spadebeard. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“It is very difficult to express it in medieval terms,” the linguist said. “The device makes use of dollibar force to transmit you through an inverse dormin vector—do I make myself clear?”
“Not very.”
“Unhelpable. But you understand the concept of parallel con­tinua at least, of course.”
“No.”

“Does it mean anything to you if I say that you’ll be shunted across the spokes of the time-wheel to a totality that is simulta­neously parallel and tangent to our fourspace?”

“I get the general idea,” Al said dubiously, though all he was really getting was a headache. “You might as well start shunting me, I suppose.”

Spadebeard nodded and turned to a technician. “Vorstrar althrosk,” he commanded.

“Murrifar.”

The technician grabbed an immense toggle switch with both hands and groaningly dragged it shut. Al heard a brief shine of closing relays. Then darkness surrounded him.

Once again he found himself on a city street. But the pavement was cracked and buckled, and grass blades shot up through the neglected concrete.

A dry voice said, “All right, you. Don’t sprawl there like a ninny. Get up and come along.”

Al peered doubtfully up into the snout of a fair-sized pistol of enormous caliber. It was held by a short, fat, bald-headed man. Four identical companions stood near him with arms folded. They all looked very much like Mordecai, Waldemar, Giovanni, and the rest, except that these mutants were decked out in futuristic-look­ing costumes bright with flashy gold trim and rocketship insignia.

Al put up his hands. “Where am I?” he asked hesitantly.

“Earth, of course. You’ve just come through a dimensional gateway from the continuum of the Normals. Come along, spy. Into the van.”

“But I’m not a spy,” Al mumbled protestingly, as the five little men bundled him into a blue-and-red car the size of a small yacht. “At least, I’m not spying on you. I mean—”

“Save the explanations for the Overlord,” was the curt instruc­tion.

Al huddled miserably cramped between two vigilant mutants, while the others sat behind him. The van moved seemingly of its own volition, and at an enormous rate. A mutant power, Al thought. After a while he said,

Could you at least tell me what year this is?”

“It is 2431,” snapped the mutant to his left.

“But that’s the same year it was over there.”

“Of course. What did you expect?”

The question floored Al. He was silent for perhaps half a mile more. Since the van had no windows, he stared morosely at his feet. Finally he asked, “How come you aren’t afraid of catching my germs, then? Over back of—ah—the dimensional gateway, they kept me cooped up in a force-field all the time so I wouldn’t con­taminate them. But you go right ahead breathing the same air I do.”

“Do you think we fear the germs of a Normal, spy?” sneered the mutant at Al’s right. “You forget that we’re a superior race.” Al nodded. “Yes. I forgot about that.”

The van halted suddenly and the mutant police hustled Al out, past a crowd of peering little fat men and women, and into a co­lossal dome of a building whose exterior was covered completely with faceted green glass. The effect was one of massive ugliness.

They ushered him into a sort of throne room presided over by a mutant fatter than the rest. The policeman gripping Al’s right arm hissed, “Bow when you enter the presence of the Overlord.”

Al wasn’t minded to argue. He dropped to his knees along with the others. A booming voice from above rang out, “What have you brought me today?”

“A spy, your nobility.”

“Another? Rise, spy.”

Al rose. “Begging your nobility’s pardon, I’d like to put in a word or two on my own behalf—”

“Silence!” the Overlord roared.

Al closed his mouth. The mutant drew himself up to his full height, about five feet one, and said, “The Normals have sent you across the dimensional gulf to spy on us.”

“No, your nobility. They were afraid I’d spy on them, so they tossed me over here. I’m from the year 1969, you see.” Briefly, he explained everything, beginning with the bollixed phone call and ending with his capture by the Overlord’s men a short while ago.

The Overlord looked skeptical. “It is well known that the Nor­mals plan to cross the dimensional gulf from their phantom world to this, the real one, and invade our civilization. You’re but the latest of their advance scouts.

Admit it!”

“Sorry, your nobility, but I’m not. On the other side they told me I was a spy from 1969, and now you say I’m a spy from the other dimension. But I tell you—”
“Enough!” the mutant leader thundered. “Take him away. Place him in custody. We shall decide his fate later!”

Someone else already occupied the cell into which Al was thrust. He was a lanky, sad-faced Normal who slouched forward to shake hands once the door had clanged shut.

“Thurizad manifosk,” he said.

“Sorry. I don’t speak that language,” said Al.

The other grinned. “I understand. All right: greetings. I’m Dar­ren Phelp. Are you a spy too?”

“No, dammit!” Al snapped. Then: “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take it out on you. My name’s Al Miller. Are you a native of this place?”

“Me? Dove’s whiskers, what a sense of humor! Of course I’m not a native! You know as well as I do that there aren’t any Nor­mals left in this fourspace continuum.”

“None at all?”

“Hasn’t been one born here in centuries,” Phelp said. “But you’re just joking, eh? You’re from Baileffod’s outfit, I suppose.”
“Who?”

“Baileffod. Baileflod! You mean you aren’t? Then you must be from Higher Up!” Phelp thrust his hands sideways in some kind of gesture of respect. “Penguin’s paws, Excellency, I apologize. I should have seen at once—”
“No, I’m not from your organization at all,” Al said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, really.”

Phelp smiled cunningly. “Of course, Excellency! I understand completely.”

“Cut that out! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me? I’m not from Baileffod and I’m not from Higher Up. I come from 1969. Do you hear me, 1969? And that’s the truth.”

Phelp’s eyes went wide. “From the past?

Al nodded. “I stumbled into the mutants in 1969 and they threw me five centuries ahead to get rid of me. Only when I ar­rived, I wasn’t welcome, so I was shipped across the dimensional whatzis to here. Everyone thinks I’m a spy, wherever I go. What are you doing here?”

Phelp smiled. “Why, I am a spy.”

“From 2431?”

“Naturally. We have to keep tabs on the mutants somehow. I came through the gateway wearing an invisibility shield, but it popped an ultrone and I vizzed out. They jugged me last month, and I suppose I’m here for keeps.”

Al rubbed thumbs tiredly against his eyeballs. “Wait a minute— how come you speak my language? On the other side they had to get a linguistics expert to talk to me.”

“All spies are trained to talk English, stupid. That’s the lan­guage the mutants speak here. In the real world we speak Vorkish, naturally. It’s the language developed by Normals for com­munication during the Mutant Wars. Your ’linguistics expert’ was probably one of our top spies.”
“And over here the mutants have won?”

“Completely. Three hundred years ago, in this continuum, the mutants developed a two-way time machine that enabled them to go back and forth, eliminating Normal leaders before they were born. Whereas in our world, the real world, two-way time travel is impossible. That’s where the continuum split begins. We Normals fought a grim war of extermination against the mutants in our fourspace and finally wiped them out, despite their superior men­tal powers, in 2390. Clear?”

“More or less.” Rather less than more, Al added privately. “So there are only mutants in this world, and only Normals in your world.”
“Exactly.”

“And you’re a spy from the other side.”

“You’ve got it now! You see, even though strictly speaking this world is only a phantom, it’s got some pretty real characteristics. For instance, if the mutants killed you here, you’d be dead. Per­manently. So there’s a lot of rivalry across the gateway; the mu­tants are always scheming to invade us, and vice versa. Confiden­tially, I don’t think anything will ever come of all the scheming.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah,” Phelp said. “The way things stand now, each side has a perfectly good enemy just beyond reach. But actually going to war would be messy, while relaxing our guard and slipping into peace would foul up our economy. So we keep sending spies back and forth, and prepare for war. It’s a nice system, except when you happen to get caught, like me.”
“What’ll happen to you?”

Phelp shrugged. “They may let me rot here for a few decades. Or they might decide to condition me and send me back as a spy for them. Tiger tails, who knows?”

“Would you change sides like that?”

“I wouldn’t have any choice—not after I was conditioned,” Phelp said. “But I don’t worry much about it. It’s a risk I knew about when I signed on for spy duty.”

Al shuddered. It was beyond him how someone could volun­tarily let himself get involved in this game of dimension-shifting and mutant-battling. But it takes all sorts to make a continuum, he decided.

Half an hour later three rotund mutant police came to fetch him. They marched him downstairs and into a bare, ugly little room where a battery of interrogators quizzed him for better than an hour. He stuck to his story, throughout everything, until at last they indicated they were through with him. He spent the next two hours in a drafty cell, by himself, until finally a gaudily robed mu­tant unlocked the door and said, “The Overlord wishes to see you.”

The Overlord looked worried. He leaned forward on his throne, fist digging into his fleshy chin. In his booming voice—Al realized suddenly that it was artificially amplified—the Overlord rumbled, “Miller, you’re a problem.”
“I’m sorry your nobil—”

Quiet! I’ll do the talking.”

Al did not reply.

The Overlord went on, “We’ve checked your story inside and out, and confirmed it with one of our spies on the other side of the gate. You really are from 1969, or thereabouts. What can we do with you? Generally speaking, when we catch a Normal snooping around here, we psychocondition him and send him back across the gateway to spy for us. But we can’t do that to you, because you don’t belong on the other side, and they’ve already tossed you out once. On the other hand, we can’t keep you here, maintaining you forever at state expense. And it wouldn’t be civilized to kill you, would it?”

“No, your nobil—”

Silence!

Al gulped. The Overlord glowered at him and continued think­ing out loud. “I suppose we could perform experiments on you, though. You must be a walking laboratory of Normal microor­ganisms that we could synthesize and fire through the gateway when we invade their fourspace. Yes, by the Grome, then you’d be useful to our cause! Zechariah?”

“Yes, Nobility?” A ribbon-bedecked guardsman snapped to at­tention.

“Take this Normal to the Biological Laboratories for examina­tion. I’ll have further instructions as soon as—”

Al heard a peculiar whanging noise from the back of the throne room. The Overlord appeared to freeze on his throne. Turning, Al saw a band of determined-looking Normals come bursting in, led by Darren Phelp.
There you are!” Phelp cried. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” He was waving a peculiar needle-nozzled gun.
“What’s going on?” Al asked.

Phelp grinned. “The Invasion! It came, after all! Our troops are pouring through the gateway armed with these freezer guns. They immobilize any mutant who gets in the way of the field.”

“When—when did all this happen?”

“It started two hours ago. We’ve captured the entire city! Come on, will you? Whiskers, there’s no time to waste!”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Phelp smiled. “To the nearest dimensional lab, of course. We’re going to send you back home.”

A dozen triumphant Normals stood in a tense knot around Al in the laboratory. From outside came the sound of jubilant singing. The Invasion was a howling success.

As Phelp had explained it, the victory was due to the recent in­vention of a kind of time-barrier projector. The projector had cut off all contact between the mutant world and its own future, pre­venting time-traveling mutant scouts from getting back to 2431 with news of the Invasion. Thus two-way travel, the great mutant advantage, was nullified, and the success of the surprise attack was made possible.

Al listened to this explanation with minimal interest. He barely understood every third word, and, in any event, his main concern was in getting home.
He was strapped into a streamlined and much modified version of the temporal centrifuge that had originally hurled him into 2431. Phelp explained things to him.

“You see here, we set the machine for 1969. What day was it when you left?”

“Ah—October ten. Around three thirty in the afternoon.”

“Make the setting, Frozz.” Phelp nodded. “You’ll be shunted back along the time-line. Of course, you’ll land in this continuum, since in our world there’s no such thing as pastward time travel. But once you reach your own time, all you do is activate this small transdimensional generator, and you’ll be hurled across safe and sound into the very day you left, in your own fourspace.”

“You can’t know how much I appreciate all this,” Al said warmly. He felt a pleasant glow of love for all mankind, for the first time since his unhappy phone call. At last someone was taking sympathetic interest in his plight.

At last, he was on his way home, back to the relative sanity of 1969, where he could start forget­ting this entire nightmarish jaunt. Mutants and Normals and spies and time machines—

“You’d better get going,” Phelp said. “We have to get the occu­pation under way here.”
“Sure,” Al agreed. “Don’t let me hold you up. I can’t wait to get going—no offense intended.”

“And remember—soon as your surroundings look familiar, jab the activator button on this generator. Otherwise you’ll slither into an interspace where we couldn’t answer for the consequences.”

Al nodded tensely. “I won’t forget.”

“I hope not. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Someone threw a switch. Al began to spin. He heard the pop­ping sound that was the rupturing of the temporal matrix. Like a cork shot from a champagne bottle, Al arched out backward through time, heading for 1969.

He woke in his own room on Twenty-third Street. His head hurt. His mind was full of phrases like temporal centrifuge and transdimensional generator.

He picked himself off the floor and rubbed his head.

Wow, he thought. It must have been a sudden fainting spell. And now his head was full of nonsense.

Going to the sideboard, he pulled out the half-empty bourbon bottle and measured off a few fingers’ worth. After the drink, his nerves felt steadier.

His mind was still cluttered with inexplicable thoughts and images.

inister little fat men and complex machines, gleaming roadways and men in fancy tunics.

A bad dream, he thought.

Then he remembered. It wasn’t any dream. He had actually taken the round trip into 2431, returning by way of some other continuum. He had pressed the generator button at the proper time, and now here he was, safe and sound. No longer the football of a bunch of different factions. Home in his own snug little fourspace, or whatever it was.

He frowned. He recalled that Mordecai had severed the tele­phone wire. But the phone looked intact now. Maybe it had been fixed while he was gone. He picked it up. Unless he got that loan extension today, he was cooked.

There was no need for him to look up the number of the Friendly Finance Corporation; he knew it well enough. He began to dial. MUrray Hill 4—
The receiver clicked queerly. A voice said, “Come in, Operator Nine.

perator Nine, do you read me?”

Al’s jaw sagged in horror. This is where I came in, he thought wildly.

He struggled to put down the phone.

ut his muscles would not respond. It would be easier to bend the sun in its orbit than to break the path of the continuum. He heard his own voice say, “I didn’t want the operator. There must be something wrong with my phone if—”

“Just a minute. Who are you?”

Al fought to break the contact. But he was hemmed away in a small corner of his mind while his voice went on, “I ought to ask you that. What are you doing on the other end of my phone, any­way? I hadn’t even finished dialing. I got as far as MU-4 and—”

Inwardly Al wanted to scream.

No scream would come. In this continuum the past (his future) was immutable. He was caught on the track, and there was no escape. None whatever. And, he real­ized glumly, there never would be.

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Farmer in the Sky (full text) by Robert Heinlein

“Farmer in the Sky” is another one of Heinlein’s excellent novels. It is set in the “Heinlein solar system” which means Venus and Mars have life. It is about a family trying to be homesteaders on Ganymede as it orbits Jupiter. The descriptions of the sky from the surface of Ganymede are some of the best parts of this well written and engaging story.

Farmer in the sky

1.   Earth

Our troop had been up in the High Sierras that day and we were late getting back. We had taken off from the camp field on time but Traffic Control swung us ‘way east to avoid some weather. I didn’t like it; Dad usually won’t eat if I’m not home.

Besides that, I had had a new boy shoved off on me as co-pilot; my usual co-pilot and assistant patrol leader was sick, so our Scoutmaster, Mr. Kinski, gave me this twerp. Mr. Kinski rode in the other copter with the Cougar Patrol.

“Why don’t you put on some speed?” the twerp wanted to know.

“Ever hear of traffic regulations?” I asked him.

The copter was on slave-automatic, controlled from the ground, and was cruising slowly, down a freight lane they had stuck us in.

The twerp laughed. “You can always have an emergency. Here–I’ll show you.” He switched on the mike. “Dog Fox Eight Three, calling traffic–“

I switched it off, then switched on again when Traffic answered and told them that we had called by mistake. The twerp looked disgusted. “Mother’s good little boy!” he said in sticky sweet tones.

That was just the wrong thing to say to me. “Go aft,” I told him, “and tell Slats Keifer to come up here.” “Why? He’s not a pilot.”

“Neither are you, for my money. But he weighs what you do and I want to keep the crate trimmed.” He settled back in his seat. “Old Man Kinski assigned me as co-pilot; here I stay.”

I counted to ten and let it ride. The pilot compartment of a ship in the air is no place for a fight. We had nothing more to say to each other until I put her down on North Diego Platform and cut the tip jets.

I was last one out, of course. Mr, Kinski was waiting there for us but I didn’t see him; all I saw was the twerp. I grabbed him by the shoulder. “Want to repeat that crack now?” I asked him.

Mr. Kinski popped up out of nowhere, stepped between us and said, “Bill! Bill! What’s the meaning of this?” “I–” I started to say that I was going to slap the twerp loose from his teeth, but I thought better of it

Mr. Kinski turned to the twerp. “What happened, Jones?” “I didn’t do anything! Ask anybody.”

I was about to say that he could tell that to the Pilots’ Board. Insubordination in the air is a serious matter. But that “Ask anybody” stopped me. Nobody else had seen or heard anything.

Mr. Kinski looked at each of us, then said, “Muster your patrol and dismiss them, Bill.” So I did and went on home.

All in all, I was tired and jumpy by the time I got home. I had listened to the news on the way home; it wasn’t good. The ration had been cut another ten calories–which made me still hungrier and reminded me that I hadn’t been home to get Dad’s supper. The newscaster went on to say that the Spaceship Mayflower had finally been commissioned and that the rolls were now opened for emigrants. Pretty lucky for them, I thought. No short rations. No twerps like Jones.

And a brand new planet.

George–my father, that is–was sitting in the apartment, looking over some papers. “Howdy, George,” I said to him, “eaten yet?” “Hello, Bill. No.”

“I’ll have supper ready right away.” I went into the pantry and could see that he hadn’t eaten lunch, either. I decided to fix him a plus meal.

I grabbed two Syntho-Steaks out of the freezer and slapped them in quickthaw, added a big Idaho baked potato for Dad and a smaller one for me, then dug out a package of salad and let it warm naturally.

By the time I had poured boiling water over two soup cubes and over coffee powder the steaks were ready for the broiler. I transferred them, letting it cycle at medium rare, and stepped up the gain on the quickthaw so that the spuds would be ready when the steaks were–then back to the freezer for a couple of icekreem cake slices for dessert.

The spuds were ready. I took a quick look at my ration accounts, decided we could afford it, and set out a couple of pats of butterine for them. The

broiler was ringing; I removed the steaks, set everything out, and switched on the candles, just as Anne would have done.

“Come and get it!” I yelled and turned back to enter the calorie and point score on each item from the wrappers, then shoved the wrappers in the incinerator. That way you never get your accounts fouled up.

Dad sat down as I finished. Elapsed time from scratch, two minutes and twenty seconds–there’s nothing hard about cooking; I don’t see why women make such a fuss about it. No system, probably.

Dad sniffed the steaks and grinned. “Oh boy! Bill, you’ll bankrupt us.”

“You let me worry,” I said. I’m still plus for this quarter.” Then I frowned. “But I won’t be, next quarter, unless they quit cutting the ration.” Dad stopped with a piece of steak on its way to his mouth. “Again?”

“Again. Look, George, I don’t get it. This was a good crop year and they started operating the Montana yeast plant besides.” “You follow all the commissary news, don’t you, Bill?”

“Naturally.”

“Did you notice the results of the Chinese census as well? Try it on your slide rule.”

I knew what he meant–and the steak suddenly tasted like old rubber. What’s the use in being careful if somebody on the other side of the globe is going to spoil your try? “Those darned Chinese ought to quit raising babies and start raising food!”

“Share and share alike, Bill.”

“But–” I shut up. George was right, he usually is, but somehow it didn’t seem fair. “Did you hear about the Mayflower?” I asked to change the subject.

“What about the Mayflower?Dad’s voice was suddenly cautious, which surprised me. Since Anne died –Anne was my mother–George and I have been about as close as two people can be.

“Why, she was commissioned, that’s all. They’ve started picking emigrants.” “So?” There was that cautious tone again. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing much. We hiked about five miles north of camp and Mr. Kinski put some of the kids through tests. I saw a mountain lion.” “Really? I thought they were all gone.”

“Well, I thought I saw one.”

“Then you probably did. What else?”

I hesitated, then told him about this twerp Jones. “He’s not even a member of our troop. How does he get that way, interfering with my piloting?” “You did right, Bill. Sounds as if this twerp Jones, as you call him, was too young to be trusted with a pilot’s license.”

“Matter of fact, he’s a year older than I am.”

“In my day you had to be sixteen before you could even go up for your license.” “Times change, George.”

“So they do. So they do.”

Dad suddenly looked sad and I knew he was thinking about Anne. I hastily said, “Old enough or not, how does an insect like Jones get by the temperament-stability test?”

“Psycho tests aren’t perfect, Bill. Neither are people.” Dad sat back and lit his pipe. “Want me to clean up tonight?”

“No, thanks.” He always asked; I always turned him down. Dad is absent-minded; he lets ration points get into the incinerator. When I salvage, I really salvage. “Feel like a game of cribbage?”

“I’ll beat the pants off you.”

“You and who else?” I salvaged the garbage, burned the dishes, followed him into the living room. He was getting out the board and cards.

His mind wasn’t really on the game. I was around the corner and ready to peg out before he was really under way. Finally he put down his cards and looked square at me. “Son–“

“Huh? I mean, ‘Yes, George?'”

“I’ve decided to emigrate in the Mayflower.

I knocked over the cribbage board. I picked it up, eased my throttle, and tried to fly right. “That’s swell! When do we leave?” Dad puffed furiously on his pipe. “That’s the point, Bill. You’re not going.”

I couldn’t say anything. Dad had never done anything like this to me before. I sat there, working my mouth like a fish. Finally I managed, “Dad, you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, Son.”

“But why? Answer me that one question: why?” “Now see here, Son–“

“Call me ‘Bill’.”

“Okay, Bill. It’s one thing for me to decide to take my chances with colonial life but I’ve got no right to get you off to a bad start. You’ve got to finish your education. There are no decent schools on Ganymede. You get your education, then when you’re grown, if you want to emigrate, that’s your business.”

“That’s the reason? That’s the only reason? To go to school?

“Yes. You stay here and take your degree. I’d like to see you take your doctor’s degree as well. Then, if you want to, you can join me. You won’t have missed your chance; applicants with close relatives there have priority.”

“No!”

Dad looked stubborn.

So did I, I guess. “George, I’m telling you, if you leave me behind, it won’t do any good. I won’t go to school. I can pass the exams for third class citizenship right now. Then I can get a work permit and–“

He cut me short. “You won’t need a work permit. I’m leaving you well provided for, Bill. You’ll–“

  • ‘Well provided for’! Do you think I’d touch a credit of yours if you go away and leave me? I’ll live on my student’s allowance until I pass the exams and get my work card.”

“Bring your voice down, Sonl” He went on, “You’re proud of being a Scout, aren’t you?”

“Well–yes.”

“I seem to remember that Scouts are supposed to be obedient. And courteous, too.” That one was pretty hot over the plate. I had to think about it. “George–“

“Yes, Bill?”

“If I was rude, I’m sorry. But the Scout Law wasn’t thought up to make it easy to push a Scout around. As long as I’m living in your home I’ll do what you say. But if you walk out on me, you don’t have any more claim on me. Isn’t that fair?”

“Be reasonable, Son. I’m doing it for your own good.”

“Don’t change the subject, George. Is that fair or isn’t it? If you go hundreds of millions of miles away, how can you expect to run my life after you’re gone? I’ll be on my own.”

“I’ll still be your father.”

“Fathers and sons should stick together. As I recall, the fathers that came over in the original Mayflower brought their kids with them.” “This is different.”

“How?”

“It’s further, incredibly further–and dangerous.”

“So was that move dangerous–half the Plymouth Rock colony died the first winter; everybody knows that. And distance doesn’t mean anything; what matters is how long it takes. If I had had to walk back this afternoon, I’d still be hiking next month. It took the Pilgrims sixty-three days to cross the Atlantic or so they taught me in school–but this afternoon the caster said that the Mayflower–will reach Ganymede in sixty days. That makes Ganymede closer than London was to Plymouth Rock.”

Dad stood up and knocked out his pipe. “I’m not going to argue, Son.”

“And I’m not, either.” I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have said the next thing I did say, but I was mad. I’d never been treated this way before and I guess I wanted to hurt back. “But I can tell you this: you’re not the only one who is sick of short rations. If you think I’m going to stay here while you’re eating high on the hog out in the colonies, then you had better think about it again. I thought we were partners.”

That last was the meanest part of it and I should have been ashamed. That was what he had said to me the day after Anne died, and that was the way it had always been.

The minute I said it I knew why George had to emigrate and I knew it didn’t have anything to do with ration points. But I didn’t know how to unsay it. Dad stared. Then he said slowly, “You think that’s how it is? That I want to go away so I can quit skipping lunch to save ration points?”

“What else?” I answered. I was stuck in a groove; I didn’t know what to say. “Hmm … well, if you believe that, Bill, there is nothing I can say. I think I’ll turn in.”

I went to my room, feeling all mixed up inside. I wanted Mother around so bad I could taste it and I knew that George felt the same way. She would never have let us reach the point where we were actually shouting at each other–at least I had shouted. Besides that, the partnership was busted up, it would never be the same.

I felt better after a shower and a long massage. I knew that the partnership couldn’t really be busted up. In the long run, when George saw that I had to go, he wouldn’t let college stand in the way. I was sure of that–well, pretty sure at least.

I began to think about Ganymede.

Ganymede!

Why, I had never even been out to the Moon!

There was a boy in my class who had been born on the Moon. His parents were still there; he had been sent home for schooling. He gave himself airs as a deep-space man. But Luna was less than a quarter of a million miles away; you could practically throw rocks at it. It wasn’t self-supporting; Moon Colony had the same rations as Earth. It was really part of Earth. But Ganymede!

Let’s see–Jupiter was half a billion miles away, more or less, depending on the time of year. What was the tiny distance to the Moon compared with a jump like that?

Suddenly I couldn’t remember whether Ganymede was Jupiter’s third moon or fourth. And I just had to know. There was a book out in the living room that would tell and more besides–Ellsworth Smith’s A Tour of Earth’s Colonies. I went out to get it.

Dad hadn’t gone to bed. He was sitting up, reading. I said, “Oh–hello,” and went to look for the book. He nodded and went on reading. The book wasn’t where it should have been. I looked around and Dad said, “What are you looking for, Bill?”

Then I saw that he was reading it. I said, “Oh, nothing. I didn’t know you were using it.” “This?” He held it up.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll find something else.” “Take it. I’m through with it.”

“Well … All right-thanks.” I took it and turned away. “Just a minute, Bill.”

I waited. “I’ve come to a decision, Bill. I’m not going.”

“Huh?”

“You were right about us being partners. My place is here.”

“Yes, but– Look, George, I’m sorry I said what I did about rations. I know that’s not the reason. The reason is–well, you’ve got to go.” I wanted to tell him I knew the reason was Anne, but if I said Anne’s name out loud I was afraid I’d bawl.

“You mean that you are willing to stay behind–and go to school?”

“Uh–” I wasn’t quite ready to say that; I was dead set on going myself. “I didn’t quite mean that. I meant that I know why you want to go, why you’ve

got to go.”

“Hmm …” He lit his pipe, making a long business of it. “I see. Or maybe I don’t” Then he added, “Let’s put it this way, Bill. The partnership stands. Either we both go, or we both stay–unless you decide of your own volition that you will stay to get your degree and join me out there later. Is that fair?”

“Huh? Oh, yes!”

“So let’s talk about it later.”

I said goodnight and ducked into my room quick. William, my boy, I told myself, it’s practically in the bag–if you can just keep from getting soft- hearted and agreeing to a split up. I crawled into bed and opened the book.

Ganymede was Jupiter-III; I should have remembered that. It was bigger than Mercury, much bigger than the Moon, a respectable planet, even if it was a moon. The surface gravity was one third of Earth-normal; I would weigh about forty-five pounds there. First contacted in 1985–which I knew– and its atmosphere project started in 1998 and had been running ever since.

There was a stereo in the book of Jupiter as seen from Ganymede–round as an apple, ruddy orange, and squashed on both poles. And big as all outdoors. Beautiful. I fell asleep staring at it.

Dad and I didn’t get a chance to talk for the next three days as my geography class spent that time in Antarctica. I came back with a frostbitten nose and some swell pix of penguins–and some revised ideas. I had had time to think.

Dad had fouled up the account book as usual but he had remembered to save the wrappers and it didn’t take me long to straighten things out. After dinner I let him beat me two games, then said, “Look, George–“

“Yes?”

“You know what we were talking about?” “Well, yes.”

“It’s this way. I’m under age; I can’t go if you won’t let me. Seems to me you ought to, but if you don’t, I won’t quit school. In any case, you ought to go– you need to go–you know why. I’m asking you to think it over and take me along, but I’m not going to be a baby about it.”

Dad almost looked embarrassed. “That’s quite a speech, Son. You mean you’re willing to let me go, you stay here and go to school, and not make a fuss about it?”

“Well, not ‘willing’-but I’d put up with it.”

“Thanks.” Dad fumbled in his pouch and pulled out a flat photo. “Take a look at this.” “What is it?”

“Your file copy of your application for emigration. I submitted it two days ago.”

2.   The Green-Eyed Monster

I wasn’t much good in school for the next few days. Dad cautioned me not to get worked up over it; they hadn’t approved our applications as yet. “You know, Bill, ten times as many people apply as can possibly go.”

“But most of them want to go to Venus or Mars. Ganymede is too far away; that scares the sissies out.”

“I wasn’t talking about applications for all the colonies; I meant applications for Ganymede, specifically for this first trip of the Mayflower

“Even so, you can’t scare me. Only about one in ten can qualify. That’s the way it’s always been.”

Dad agreed. He said that this was the first time in history that some effort was being made to select the best stock for colonization instead of using colonies as dumping grounds for misfits and criminals and failures. Then he added, “But look, Bill, what gives you the notion that you and I can necessarily qualify? Neither one of us is a superman,”

That rocked me back on my heels. The idea that we might not be good enough hadn’t occurred to me. “George, they couldn’t turn us down!

“They could and they might.”

“But how? They need engineers out there and you’re tops. Me–I’m not a genius but I do all right in school. We’re both healthy and we don’t have any

bad mutations; we aren’t color blind or bleeders or anything like that.”

“No bad mutations that we know of,” Dad answered. “However, I agree that we seem to have done a fair job in picking our grandparents. I wasn’t thinking of anything as obvious as that.”

“Well, what, then? What could they possibly get us on?”

He fiddled with his pipe the way he always does when he doesn’t want to answer right away. “Bill, when I pick a steel alloy for a job, it’s not enough to say, ‘Well, it’s a nice shiny piece of metal; let’s use it.’ No, I take into account a list of tests as long as your arm that tells me all about that alloy, what it’s good for and just what I can expect it to do in the particular circumstances I intend to use it. Now if you had to pick people for a tough job of colonizing, what would you look for?”

“Uh … I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’m not a social psychometrician. But to say that they want healthy people with fair educations is like saying that I want steel rather than wood for a job. It doesn’t tell what sort of steel. Or it might not be steel that was needed; it might be titanium alloy. So don’t get your hopes too high.”

“But–well, look, what can we do about it?”

“Nothing. If we don’t get picked, then tell yourself that you are a darn good grade of steel and that it’s no fault of yours that they wanted magnesium.”  It was all very well to look at it that way, but it worried me. I didn’t let it show at school, though. I had already let everybody know that we had put in for

Ganymede; if we missed–well, it would be sort of embarrassing.

My best friend, Duck Miller, was all excited about it and was determined to go, too. “But how can you?” I asked. “Do your folks want to go?”

“I already looked into that,” Duck answered. “All I have to have is a grown person as a sponsor, a guardian. Now if you can tease your old man into signing for me, it’s in the bag.”

“But what will your father say?”

“He won’t care. He’s always telling me that when he was my age he was earning his own living. He says a boy should be self reliant. Now how about it? Will you speak to your old man about it–tonight?”

I said I would and I did. Dad didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked: “You really want Duck with you?” “Sure I do. He’s my best friend.”

“What does his father say?”

“He hasn’t asked him yet,” and then I explained how Mr. Miller felt about it “So?” said Dad. “Then let’s wait and see what Mr. Miller says.”

“Well–look, George, does that mean that you’ll sign for Duck if his father says it’s okay?” “I meant what I said, Bill. Let’s wait. The problem may solve itself.”

I said, “Oh well, maybe Mr. and Mrs. Miller will decide to put in for it, too, after Duck gets them stirred up.”

Dad just cocked an eyebrow at me. “Mr. Miller has, shall we say, numerous business interests here. I think it would be easier to jack up one corner of Boulder Dam than to get him to give them up.”

“You’re giving up your business.”

“Not my business, my professional practice. But I’m not giving up my profession; I’m taking it with me.” I saw Duck at school the next day and asked him what his father had said.

“Forget it,” he told me. “The deal is off.” “Huh?”

“My old man says that nobody but an utter idiot would even think of going out to Ganymede. He says that Earth is the only planet in the system fit to live on and that if the government wasn’t loaded up with a bunch of starry-eyed dreamers we would quit pouring money down a rat hole trying to turn a bunch of bare rocks in the sky into green pastures. He says the whole enterprise is doomed.”

“You didn’t think so yesterday.”

“That was before I got the straight dope. You know what? My old man is going to take me into partnership. Just as soon as I’m through college he’s going to start breaking me into the management end. He says he didn’t tell me before because he wanted me to learn self reliance and initiative, but he thought it was time I knew about it. What do you think of that?”

“Why, that’s pretty nice, I suppose. But what’s this about the ‘enterprise being doomed’?”

  • ‘Nice’, he calls it! Well, my old man says that it is an absolute impossibility to keep a permanent colony on Ganymede. It’s a perilous toehold, artificially maintained–those were his exact words–and someday the gadgets will bust and the whole colony will be wiped out, every man jack, and then we will quit trying to go against nature.”

We didn’t talk any more then as we had to go to class. I told Dad about it that night. “What do you think, George?” “Well, there is something in what he says–“

“Huh?”

“Don’t jump the gun. If everything went sour on Ganymede at once and we didn’t have the means to fix it, it would revert to the state we found it in. But that’s not the whole answer. People have a funny habit of taking as ‘natural’ whatever they are used to–but there hasn’t been any ‘natural’ environment, the way they mean it, since men climbed down out of trees. Bill, how many people are there in California?”

“Fifty-five, sixty million.”

“Did you know that the first four colonies here starved to death? ‘S truthl How is it that fifty-odd million can live here and not starve? Barring short rations, of course.”

He answered it himself. “We’ve got four atomic power plants along the coast just to turn sea water into fresh water. We use every drop of the Colorado River and every foot of snow that falls on the Sierras. And we use a million other gadgets.

If those gadgets went bad–say a really big earthquake knocked out all four atomic plants–the country would go back to desert. I doubt if we could evacuate that many people before most of them died from thirst. Yet I don’t think Mr. Miller is lying awake nights worrying about it. He regards Southern California as a good ‘natural’ environment.

“Depend on it, Bill. Wherever Man has mass and energy to work with and enough savvy to know how to manipulate them, he can create any environment he needs.”

I didn’t see much of Duck after that. About then we got our preliminary notices to take tests for eligibility for the Ganymede colony and that had us pretty busy. Besides, Duck seemed different–or maybe it was me. I had the trip on my mind and he didn’t want to talk about it. Or if he did, he’d make some crack that rubbed me the wrong way.

Dad wouldn’t let me quit school while it was still uncertain as to whether or not we would qualify, but I was out a lot, taking tests. There was the usual physical examination, of course, with some added wrinkles. A g test, for example–I could take up to eight gravities before I blacked out, the test showed. And a test for low-pressure tolerance and hemorrhaging–they didn’t want people who ran to red noses and varicose veins. There were lots more.

But we passed them. Then came the psycho tests which were a lot worse because you never knew what was expected of you and half the time you

didn’t even know you were being tested. It started off with hypno-analysis, which really puts a fellow at a disadvantage. How do you know what you’ve blabbed while they’ve got you asleep?

Once I sat around endlessly waiting for a psychiatrist to get around to seeing me. There were a couple of clerks there; when I came in one of them dug my medical and psycho record out of file and laid it on a desk. Then the other one, a red-headed guy with a permanent sneer, said, “Okay, Shorty, sit down on that bench and wait.”

After quite a while the redhead picked up my folder and started to read it. Presently he snickered and turned to the other clerk and said, “Hey, Ned– get a load of this!”

The other one read what he was pointing to and seemed to think it was funny, too. I could see they were watching me and I pretended not to pay any attention.

The second clerk went back to his desk, but presently the redhead went over to him, carrying my folder, and read aloud to him, but in such a low voice that I couldn’t catch many of the words. What I did catch made me squirm.

When he had finished the redhead looked right at me and laughed. I stood up and said, “What’s so funny?” He said, “None of your business, Shorty. Sit down.”

I walked over and said, “Let me see that.”

The second clerk stuffed it into a drawer of his desk. The redhead said, “Mamma’s boy wants to see it, Ned. Why don’t you give it to him?” “He doesn’t really want to see it,” the other one said.

“No, I guess not.” The redhead laughed again and added, “And to think he wants to be a big bold colonist.”

The other one looked at me while chewing a thumbnail and said, “I don’t think that’s so funny. They could take him along to cook.” This seemed to convulse the redhead. “I’ll bet he looks cute in an apron.”

A year earlier I would have poked him, even though he outweighed me and outreached me. That “Mamma’s boy” remark made me forget all about wanting to go to Ganymede; I just wanted to wipe the silly smirk off his face.

But I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why; maybe it was from riding herd on that wild bunch of galoots, the Yucca Patrol–Mr. Kinski says that anybody who can’t keep order without using his fists can’t be a patrol leader under him.

Anyhow I just walked around the end of the desk and tried to open the drawer. It was locked. I looked at them; they were both grinning, but I wasn’t. “I had an appointment for thirteen o’clock,” I said. “Since the doctor isn’t here, you can tell him I’ll phone for another appointment.” And I turned on my heel and left.

I went home and told George about it. He just said he hoped I hadn’t hurt my chances.

I never did get another appointment. You know what? They weren’t clerks at all; they were psycho-metricians and there was a camera and a mike on me the whole time.

Finally George and I got notices saying that we were qualified and had been posted for the Mayflower, “subject to compliance with all requirements.”

That night I didn’t worry about ration points; I really set us out a feast.

There was a booklet of the requirements mentioned. “Satisfy all debts”–that didn’t worry me; aside from a half credit I owed Slats Keifer I didn’t have any. “Post an appearance bond”–George would take care of that “Conclude any action before any court of superior jurisdiction”–I had never been in court except the Court of Honor. There were a flock of other things, but George would handle them.

I found some fine print that worried me. “George,” I said, “It says here that emigration is limited to families with children.”

He looked up. “Well, aren’t we such a family? If you don’t mind being classified as a child.” “Oh. I suppose so. I thought it meant a married couple and kids.”

“Don’t give it a thought.”

Privately I wondered if Dad knew what he was talking about.

We were busy with innoculations and blood typing and immunizations and I hardly got to school at all. When I wasn’t being stuck or being bled, I was sick with the last thing they had done to me. Finally we had to have our whole medical history tattooed on us–identity number, Rh factor, blood type, coag time, diseases you had had, natural immunities and inoculations. The girls and the women usually had it done in invisible ink that showed up only under infra-red light, or else they put it on the soles of their feet.

They asked me where I wanted it, the soles of my feet? I said no, I don’t want to be crippled up; I had too much to do. We compromised on putting it where I sit down and then I ate standing up for a couple of days. It seemed a good place, private anyhow. But I had to use a mirror to see it.

Time was getting short; we were supposed to be at Mojave Space Port on 26 June, just two weeks away. It was high time I was picking out what to take. The allowance was fifty-seven and six-tenths pounds per person and had not been announced until all our body weights had been taken.

The booklet had said, “Close your terrestrial affairs as if you were dying.” That’s easy to say. But when you die, you can’t take it with you, while here we could– fifty-seven-odd pounds of it.

The question was: what fifty-seven pounds?

My silkworms I turned over to the school biology lab and the same for the snakes. Duck wanted my aquarium but I wouldn’t let him; twice he’s had fish and twice he’s let them die. I split them between two fellows in the troop who already had fish. The birds I gave to Mrs. Fishbein on our deck. I didn’t have a cat or a dog; George says ninety floors up is no place to keep junior citizens–that’s what he calls them.

I was cleaning up the mess when George came in. “Well,” he says, “first time I’ve been able to come into your room without a gas mask.” I skipped it; George talks like that. “I still don’t know what to do,” I said, pointing at the heap on my bed.

“Microfilmed everything you can?”

“Yes, everything but this picture.” It was a cabinet stereo of Anne, weighing about a pound and nine ounces. “Keep that, of course. Face it, Bill, you’ve got to travel light. We’re pioneers.”

“I don’t know what to throw out.”

I guess I looked glum for he said, “Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Me, I’ve got to give up thisand that’s tough, believe me.” He held out his pipe. “Why?” I asked. “A pipe doesn’t weigh much.”

“Because they aren’t raising tobacco on Ganymede and they aren’t importing any.”

“Oh. Look, George, I could just about make it if it weren’t for my accordion. But it licks me.” “Hmm … Have you considered listing it as a cultural item?”

“Huh?”

“Read the fine print. Approved cultural items are not covered by the personal weight schedule. They are charged to the colony.” It had never occurred to me that I might have anything that would qualify. “They wouldn’t let me get away with it, George!”

“Can’t rule you out for trying. Don’t be a defeatist.”

So two days later I was up before the cultural and scientific board, trying to prove that I was an asset. I knocked out Turkey in the Straw, Nehru’s Opus 81, and the introduction to Morgenstern’s Dawn of the 22nd Century, as arranged for squeeze boxes. I gave them The Green Hills of Earth for an encore.

They asked me if I liked to play for other people and told me politely that I would be informed as to the decision of the board … and about a week later I got a letter directing me to turn my accordion over to the Supply Office, Hayward Field. I was in, I was a “cultural asset”!

Four days before blast-off Dad came home early – he had been closing his office–and asked me if we could have something special for dinner; we were having guests. I said I supposed so; my accounts showed that we would have rations to turn back.

He seemed embarrassed. “Son–” “Huh? Yes, George?”

“You know that item in the rules about families?” “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you were right about it, but I was holding out on you and now I’ve got to confess. I’m getting married tomorrow.” There was a sort of roaring in my ears. Dad couldn’t have surprised me more if he had slapped me.

I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there, looking at him. Finally I managed to get out, “But, George, you can’t do that!” “Why not, Son?”

“How about Anne?” “Anne is dead.”

“But– But–” I couldn’t say anything more; I ducked into my room and locked myself in. I lay on the bed, trying to think. Presently I heard Dad trying the latch. Then he tapped on the door and said, “Bill?”

I didn’t answer. After a while he went away. I lay there a while longer. I guess I bawled, but I wasn’t bawling over the trouble with Dad. It seemed the way it did the day Anne died, when I couldn’t get it through my head that I wouldn’t ever see her again. Wouldn’t ever see her smile at me again and hear her say, “Stand tall, Billy.”

And I would stand tall and she would look proud and pat my arm.

How could George do it? How could he bring some other woman into Anne’s home?

I got up and had a look at myself in the mirror and then went in and set my ‘fresher for a needle shower and a hard massage. I felt better afterwards, except that I still had a sick feeling in my stomach. The ‘fresher blew me off and dusted me and sighed to a stop. Through the sound it seemed to me I could hear Anne speaking to me, but that must have been in my head.

She was saying, “Stand tall, Son.” I got dressed again and went out.

Dad was messing around with dinner and I do mean messing. He had burned his thumb on the shortwave, don’t ask me how. I had to throw out what he had been fiddling with, all except the salad. I picked out more stuff and started them cycling. Neither of us said anything.

I set the table for three and Dad finally spoke. “Better set it for four, Bill. Molly has a daughter, you know.”

I dropped a fork. “Molly? You mean Mrs. Kenyon?”

“Yes. Didn’t I tell you? No, you didn’t give me a chance to.”

I knew her all right. She was Dad’s draftsman. I knew her daughter, too–a twelve-year-old brat. Somehow, it being Mrs. Kenyon made it worse, indecent. Why, she had even come to Anne’s Farewell and had had the nerve to cry.

I knew now why she had always been so chummy with me whenever I was down at Dad’s office. She had had her eye on George. I didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

I said “How do you do?” politely when they came in, then went out and pretended to fiddle with dinner. Dinner was sort of odd. Dad and Mrs. Kenyon talked and I answered when spoken to. I didn’t listen. I was still trying to figure out how he could do it. The brat spoke to me a couple of times but I soon put her in her place.

After dinner Dad said how about all of us going to a show? I begged off, saying that I still had sorting to do. They went. I thought and thought about it. Any way I looked at it, it seemed like a bad deal.

At first I decided that I wouldn’t go to Ganymede after all, not if they were going. Dad would forfeit my bond, but I would work hard and pay it back–I wasn’t going to owe them anything!

Then I finally figured out why Dad was doing it and I felt some better, but not much. It was too high a price.

Dad got home late, by himself, and tapped on my door. It wasn’t locked and he came in. “Well, Son?” he said. “‘Well’ what?”

“Bill, I know that this business comes as a surprise to you, but you’ll get over it.”

I laughed, though I didn’t feel funny. Get over it! Maybe he could forget Anne, but I never would.

“In the meantime,” he went on, “I want you to behave yourself. I suppose you know you were as rude as you could be without actually spitting in their faces?”

“Me rude?”I objected. “Didn’t I fix dinner for them? Wasn’t I polite?”

“You were as polite as a judge passing sentence. And as friendly. You needed a swift kick to make you remember your manners.”

I guess I looked stubborn. George went on, “That’s done; let’s forget it. See here, Bill–in time you are going to see that this was a good idea. All I ask you to do is to behave yourself in the meantime. I don’t ask you to fall on their necks; I do insist that you be your own normal, reasonably polite and friendly self. Will you try?”

“Uh, I suppose so.” Then I went on with, “See here, Dad, why did you have to spring it on me as a surprise?”

He looked embarrassed. “That was a mistake. I suppose I did it because I knew you would raise Cain about it and I wanted to put it off.” “But I would have understood if you had only told me. I know why you want to marry her–“

“Eh?”

“I should have known when you mentioned that business about rules. You have to get married so that we can go to Ganymede–“

“What?”

I was startled. I said, “Huh? That’s right, isn’t it? You told me so yourself. You said–“

“I said nothing of the sort!” Dad stopped, took a deep breath, then went on slowly, “Bill, I suppose you possibly could have gathered that impression–though I am not flattered that you could have entertained it. Now I’ll spell out the true situation: Molly and I are not getting married in order to emigrate. We are emigrating because we are getting married. You may be too young to understand it, but I love Molly and Molly loves me. If I wanted to stay here, she’d stay. Since I want to go, she wants to go. She’s wise enough to understand that I need to make a complete break with my old background. Do you follow me?”

I said I guessed so.

“I’ll say goodnight, then.”

I answered, “Goodnight.” He turned away, but I added, “George–” He stopped. I blurted out. “You don’t love Anne any more, do you?”

Dad turned white. He started back in and then stopped. “Bill,” he said slowly, “it has been some years since I’ve laid a hand on you–but this is the first time I ever wanted to give you a thrashing.”

I thought he was going to do it. I waited and I had made up my mind that if he touched me he was going to get die surprise of his life. But he didn’t come any nearer; he just closed the door between us.

After a while I took another shower that I didn’t need and went to bed. I must have lain there an hour or more, thinking that Dad had wanted to hit me and wishing that Anne were around to tell me what to do. Finally I switched on the dancing lights and stared at them until they knocked me out.

Neither one of us said anything until breakfast was over and neither of us ate much, either. Finally Dad said, “Bill, I want to beg your pardon for what I said last night. You hadn’t done or said anything to justify raising a hand to you and I had no business thinking it or saying it.”

I said, “Oh, that’s all right.” I thought about it and added, “I guess I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“It was all right to say it What makes me sad is that you could have thought it. Bill, I’ve never stopped loving Anne and I’ll never love her any less.” “But you said–” I stopped and finished, “I just don’t get it.”

“I guess there is no reason to expect you to.” George stood up. “Bill, the ceremony is at fifteen o’clock. Will you be dressed and ready about an hour before that time?”

I hesitated and said, “I won’t be able to, George. I’ve got a pretty full day.”

His face didn’t have any expression at all and neither did his voice. He said, “I see,” and left the room. A bit later he left the apartment. A while later

I. tried to call him at his office, but the autosecretary ground out the old stall about “Would you like to record a message?” I didn’t. I figured that George would be home some time before fifteen hundred and I got dressed in my best. I even used some of Dad’s beard cream.

He didn’t show up. I tried the office again, and again, got the “Would-you-like-to-record-a-message?” routine. Then I braced myself and looked up the code on Mrs. Kenyon.

He wasn’t there. Nobody was there.

The time crawled past and there was nothing I could do about it. After a while it was fifteen o’clock and I knew that my father was off somewhere getting married but I didn’t know where. About fifteen-thirty I went out and went to a show.

When I got back the red light was shining on the phone. I dialed playback and it was Dad: “Bill I tried to reach you but you weren’t in and I can’t wait. Molly and I are leaving on a short trip. If you need to reach me, call Follow Up Service, Limited, in Chicago–we’ll be somewhere in Canada. We’ll be back Thursday night. Goodbye.” That was the end of the recording.

Thursday night–blast-off was Friday morning.

3.   Space Ship Bifrost

Dad called me from Mrs. Kenyon’s–I mean from Molly’s–apartment Thursday night. We were both polite but uneasy. I said yes, I was all ready and I hoped they had had a nice time. He said they had and would I come over and we would all leave from there in the morning.

I said I hadn’t known what his plans were, so I had bought a ticket to Mojave port and had reserved a room at Hotel Lancaster. What did he want me to do?

He thought about it and said, “It looks like you can take care of yourself, Bill.” “Of course I can.”

“All right. We’ll see you at the port. Want to speak to Molly?” “Uh, no, just tell her hello for me.”

“Thanks, I will.” He switched off.

I went to my room and got my kit–fifty-seven and fifty-nine hundredths pounds; I couldn’t have added a clipped frog’s hair. My room was bare, except for my Scout uniform. I couldn’t afford to take it, but I hadn’t thrown it away yet.

I picked it up, intending to take it to the incinerator, then stopped. At the physical exam I had been listed at one hundred thirty-one and two tenths pounds mass in the clothes I would wear for blast off.

But I hadn’t eaten much the last few days.

I stepped into the ‘fresher and onto the scales–one hundred twenty-nine and eight tenths. I picked up the uniform and stepped back on the scales– one hundred thirty-two and five tenths.

William, I said, you get no dinner, you get no breakfast, and you drink no water tomorrow morning. I bundled up my uniform and took it along.

The apartment was stripped. As a surprise for the next tenant I left in the freezer the stuff I had meant to eat for supper, then switched all the gadgets to zero except the freezer, and locked the door behind me. It felt funny; Anne and George and I had lived there as far back as I could remember.

I went down to subsurface, across town, and caught the In-Coast tube for Mojave. Twenty minutes later I was at Hotel Lancaster in the Mojave Desert.

I soon found out that the “room” I had reserved was a cot in the billiard room. I trotted down to find out what had happened.

I showed the room clerk the ‘stat that said I had a room coming to me. He looked at it and said, “Young man, have you ever tried to bed down six thousand people at once?”

I said no, I hadn’t.

“Then be glad you’ve got a cot. The room you reserved is occupied by a family with nine children.” I went.

The hotel was a madhouse. I couldn’t have gotten anything to eat even if I hadn’t promised myself not to eat; you couldn’t get within twenty yards of the dining room. There were children underfoot everywhere and squalling brats galore. There were emigrant families squatting in the ball room. I looked them over and wondered how they had picked them; out of a grab bag?

Finally I went to bed. I was hungry and got hungrier. I began to wonder why I was going to all this trouble to hang on to a Scout uniform I obviously wasn’t going to use.

If I had had my ration book I would have gotten up and stood in line at the dining room–but Dad and I had turned ours in. I still had some money and

thought about trying to find a free-dealers; they say you can find them around a hotel. But Dad says that “free-dealer” is a fake word; they are black

marketeers and no gentleman will buy from them.

Besides that I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to go about finding one.

I got up and got a drink and went back to bed and went through the relaxing routine. Finally I got to sleep and dreamed about strawberry shortcake with real cream, the kind that comes from cows.

I woke up hungry but I suddenly remembered that this was it!–my last day on Earth. Then I was too excited to be hungry. I got up, put on my Scout uniform and my ship suit over it.

I thought we would go right on board. I was wrong.

First we had to assemble under awnings spread out in front of the hotel near the embarking tubes. It wasn’t air conditioned outside, of course, but it was early and the desert wasn’t really hot yet. I found the letter “L” and sat down under it, sitting on my baggage. Dad and his new family weren’t around yet; I began to wonder if I was going to Ganymede by myself. I didn’t much care.

Out past the gates about five miles away, you could see the ships standing on the field, the Daedalus and the Icarus, pulled off the Earth-Moon run for this one trip, and the old Bifrost that had been the shuttle rocket to Supra-New-York space station as far back as I could remember.

The Daedalus and the Icarus were bigger but I hoped I would get the Bifrost; she was the first ship I ever saw blast off.

A family put their baggage down by mine. The mother looked out across the field and said, “Joseph, which one is the Mayflower?

Her husband tried to explain to her, but she still was puzzled. I nearly burst, trying to keep from laughing. Here she was, all set to go to Ganymede and yet she was so dumb she didn’t even know that the ship she was going in had been built out in space and couldn’t land anywhere.

The place was getting crowded with emigrants and relatives coming to see them off, but I still didn’t see anything of Dad. I heard my name called and turned around and there was Duck Miller. “Gee, Bill,” he said, “I thought I’d missed you.”

“Hi, Duck. No, I’m still here.”

“I tried to call you last night but your phone answered ‘service discontinued,’ so I hooked school and came up.” “Aw, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“But I wanted to bring you this.” He handed me a package, a whole pound of chocolates. I didn’t know what to say. I thanked him and then said, “Duck, I appreciate it, I really do. But I’ll have to give them back to you.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Weight Mass, I mean. I can’t get by with another ounce.” “You can carry it.”

“That won’t help. It counts just the same.”

He thought about it and said, “Then let’s open it.”

I said, “Fine,” and did so and offered him a piece. I looked at them myself and my stomach was practically sitting up and begging. I don’t know when I’ve been so hungry.

I gave in and ate one. I figured I would sweat it off anyhow; it was getting hot and I had my Scout uniform on under my ship suit–and that’s no way to dress for the Mojave Desert in June! Then I was thirstier than ever, of course; one thing leads to another.

I went over to a drinking fountain and took a very small drink. When I came back I closed the candy box and handed it back to Duck and told him to

pass it around at next Scout meeting and tell the fellows I wished they were going along. He said he would and added, “You know, Bill, I wish I was

going. I really do.”

I said I wished he was, too, but when did he change his mind? He looked embarrassed but about then Mr. Kinski showed up and then Dad showed up, with Molly and the brat–Peggy–and Molly’s sister, Mrs. van Metre. Everybody shook hands all around and Mrs. van Metre started to cry and the brat wanted to know what made my clothes so bunchy and what was I sweating about?

George was eyeing me, but about then our names were called and we started moving through the gate.

George and Molly and Peggy were weighed through and then it was my turn. My baggage was right on the nose, of course, and then I stepped on the scales. They read one hundred and thirty-one and one tenth pounds–I could have eaten another chocolate.

“Check!” said the weightmaster, then he looked up and said, “What in the world have you got on, son?”

The left sleeve of my uniform had started to unroll and was sticking out below the half sleeve of my ship suit. The merit badges were shining out like signal lights.

I didn’t say anything. He started feeling the lumps the uniform sleeves made. “Boy,” he said, “you’re dressed like an arctic explorer; no wonder you’re sweating. Didn’t you know you weren’t supposed to wear anything but the gear you were listed in?”

Dad came back and asked what the trouble was? I just stood there with my ears burning. The assistant weightmaster got into the huddle and they argued what should be done. The weightmaster phoned somebody and finally he said, “He’s inside his weight limit; if he wants to call that monkey suit part of his skin, we’ll allow it. Next customer, please!”

I trailed along, feeling foolish. We went down inside and climbed on the slide strip, it was cool down there, thank goodness. A few minutes later we got off at the loading room down under the rocket ship. Sure enough, it was the Bifrost, as I found out when the loading elevator poked above ground and stopped at the passenger port. We filed in.

They had it all organized. Our baggage had been taken from us in the loading room; each passenger had a place assigned by his weight. That split us up again; I was on the deck immediately under the control room. I found my place, couch 14-D, then went to a view port where I could see the Daedalus and the Icarus.

A brisk little stewardess, about knee high to a grasshopper, checked my name off a list and offered me an injection against dropsickness. I said no, thanks.

She said, “You’ve been out before?”

I admitted I hadn’t; she said, “Better take it.”

I said I was a licensed air pilot; I wouldn’t get sick I didn’t tell her that my license was just for copters. She shrugged and turned away. A loudspeaker said, “The Daedalus is cleared for blasting.” I moved up to get a good view.

The Daedalus was about a quarter of a mile away and stood up higher than we did. She had fine lines and was a mighty pretty sight, gleaming in the morning sunshine. Beyond her and to the right, clear out at the edge of the field, a light shone green at the traffic control blockhouse.

She canted slowly over to the south, just a few degrees.

Fire burst out of her base, orange, and then blinding white. It splashed down into the ground baffles and curled back up through the ground vents. She lifted.

She hung there for a breath and you could see the hills shimmer through her jet. And she was gone.

Just like that–she was gone. She went up out of there like a scared bird, just a pencil of white fire in the sky, and was gone while we could still hear and feel the thunder of her jets inside the compartment.

My ears were ringing. I heard someone behind me say, “But I haven’t had breakfast. The Captain will just have to wait. Tell him, Joseph.”

It was the woman who hadn’t known that the Mayflower was a space-to-space ship. Her husband tried to hush her up, but he didn’t have any luck.

She called over the stewardess. I heard her answer, “But, madam, you can’t speak to the Captain now. He’s preparing for blast-off.”

Apparently that didn’t make any difference. The stewardess finally got her quiet by solemnly promising that she could have breakfast after blast-off. I bent my ears at that and I decided to put in a bid for breakfast, too.

The Icarus took off twenty minutes later and then the speaker said, “All hands! Acceleration stations-prepare to blast off.” I went back to my couch and the stewardess made sure that we were all strapped down. She cautioned us not to unstrap until she said we could. She went down to the deck below.

I felt my ears pop and there was a soft sighing in the ship. I swallowed and kept swallowing. I knew what they were doing: blowing the natural air out and replacing it with the standard helium-oxygen mix at half sea-level pressure. But the woman–the same one–didn’t like it. She said, “Joseph, my head aches. Joseph, I can’t breathe. Do something!”

Then she clawed at her straps and sat up. Her husband sat up, too, and forced her back down. The Bifrost tilted over a little and the speaker said, “Minus three minutes!”

After a long time it said, “Minus two minutes!”

And then “Minus one minutel” and another voice took up the count: “Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight! Fifty-seven!”

My heart started to pound so hard I could hardly hear it. But it went on: “-thirty-five! Thirty-four! Thirty-three! Thirty-two! Thirty-one! Half! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!”

And it got to be: “Ten!”

And “Nine!” “Eight! “Seven! “And six! “And five! “And four! “And three! “And two–“

I never did hear them say “one” or “fire” or whatever they said. About then something fell on me and I thought I was licked. Once, exploring a cave with the fellows, a bank collapsed on me and I had to be dug out. It was like that–but nobody dug me out.

My chest hurt. My ribs seemed about to break. I couldn’t lift a finger. I gulped and couldn’t get my breath.

I wasn’t scared, not really, because I knew we would take off with a high g, but I was awfully uncomfortable. I managed to turn my head a little and saw that the sky was already purple. While I watched, it turned black and the stars came out, millions of stars. And yet the Sun was still streaming in through the port

The roar of the jets was unbelievable but the noise started to die out almost at once and soon you couldn’t hear it at all. They say the old ships used to be noisy even after you passed the speed of sound; the Bifrost was not. It got as quiet as the inside of a bag of feathers.

There was nothing to do but lie there, stare out at that black sky, try to breathe, and try not to think about the weight sitting on you.

And then, so suddenly that it made your stomach turn flip-flops, you didn’t weigh anything at all.

4.   Captain DeLongPre

Let me tell you that the first time you fall is no fun. Sure, you get over it. If you didn’t you would starve. Old space hands even get so they like it– weightlessness, I mean. They say that two hours of weightless sleep is equal to a full night on Earth. I got used to it, but I never got to like it.

The Bifrost had blasted for a little more than three minutes. It seemed lots longer because of the high acceleration; we had blasted at nearly six g. Then she was in free orbit for better than three hours and we fell the whole time, until the Captain started to maneuver to match orbits with the Mayflower.

In other words we fell straight up for more than twenty thousand miles.

Put that way, it sounds silly. Everybody knows that things don’t fall up; they fall down.

Everybody knew the world was flat, too. We fell up.

Like everybody, I had had the elements of space ballistics in grammar school physics, and goodness knows there have been enough stories about how you float around in a spaceship when it’s in a free orbit. But, take it from me, you don’t really believe it until you’ve tried it.

Take Mrs. Tarbutton–the woman who wanted breakfast. I suppose she went to school like everybody else. But she kept insisting that the Captain had to do something about it. What he could do I don’t know; find her a small asteroid, maybe.

Not that I didn’t sympathize with her–or with myself, I guess. Ever been in an earthquake? You know how everything you ever depended on suddenly goes back on you and terra firma isn’t firma any longer? It’s like that, only much worse. This is no place to review grammar school physics but when a spaceship is in a free trajectory, straight up or any direction, the ship and everything in it moves along together and you fall, endlessly–and your stomach darn near falls out of you.

That was the first thing I noticed. I was strapped down so that I didn’t float away, but I felt weak and shaky and dizzy and as if I had been kicked in the stomach. Then my mouth filled with saliva and I gulped and I was awfully sorry I had eaten that chocolate.

But it didn’t come up, not quite.

The only thing that saved me was no breakfast. Some of the others were not so lucky. I tried not to look at them. I had intended to unstrap as soon as we went free and go to a port so I could look at Earth, but I lost interest in that project entirely. I stayed strapped down, and concentrated on being miserable.

The stewardess came floating out the hatch from the next deck, shoved herself along with a toe, checked herself with a hand at the center stanchion, and hovered in the air in a swan dive, looking us over. It was very pretty to watch if I’d been in shape to appreciate it.

“Is everybody comfy?” she said cheerfully.

It was a silly remark but I suppose nurses get that way. Somebody groaned and a baby on the other side of the compartment started to cry. The stewardess moved over to Mrs. Tarbutton and said, “You may have breakfast now. What would you like? Scrambled eggs?”

I clamped my jaw and turned my head away, wishing she would shut up. Then I looked back. She had paid for that silly remark–and she had to clean it up.

When she was through with Mrs. Tarbutton I said, “Uh-oh, Miss–” “Andrews.”

“Miss Andrews, could I change my mind about that drop-sick injection?”

“Righto, chum,” she agreed, smiling, and whipped out an injector from a little kit she had at her belt. She gave me the shot. It burned and for a moment I thought I was going to lose the chocolate after all. But then things quieted down and I was almost happy in a miserable sort of way.

She left me and gave shots to some others who had kidded themselves the same way I had. Mrs. Tarbutton she gave another sort of shot to knock her out entirely. One or two of the hardier souls unstrapped themselves and went to the ports; I decided I was well enough to try it.

It’s not as easy as it looks, this swimming around in free fall. I undid the safety belts and sat up; that’s all I meant to do. Then I was scrambling in the air, out of control, trying frantically to grasp at anything.

I turned over in the air and cracked the back of my head against the underside of the control room deck and saw stars, not the ones out the ports– some of my own. Then the deck with the couches on it was approaching me slowly.

I managed to grab a safety belt and came to anchor. The couch it belonged to was occupied by a little plump man. I said, “Excuse me.”

He said, “Don’t mention it,” and turned his face away, looking as if he hated me. I couldn’t stay there and I couldn’t even get back to my own couch without grabbing handholds on other couches that were occupied, too, so I pushed off again, very gently this time, and managed to grab hold when I bumped against the other deck.

It had handholds and grab lines all over it. I didn’t let go again, but pulled myself along, monkey fashion, to one of the ports. And there I got my first view of Earth from space.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what I expected. There it was, looking just like it does in the geography books, or maybe more the way it does in the station announcements of Super-New-York TV station. And yet it was different. I guess I would say it was like the difference between being told about a good hard kick in the rear and actually being kicked.

Not a transcription. Alive.

For one thing it wasn’t prettily centered in a television screen; it was shouldering into one side of the frame of the port, and the aft end of the ship cut a big chunk out of the Pacific Ocean. And it was moving, shrinking. While I hung there it shrunk to about half the size it was when I first got there and got rounder and rounder. Columbus was right.

From where I was it was turned sideways; the end of Siberia, then North America, and finally the north half of South America ran across from left to right. There were clouds over Canada and the eastern part of the rest of North America; they were the whitest white I ever saw–whiter than the north pole cap. Right opposite us was the reflection of the Sun on the ocean; it hurt my eyes. The rest of the ocean was almost purple where there weren’t clouds.

It was so beautiful my throat ached and I wanted to reach out and touch it.

And back of it were stars, even brighter and bigger and more of them than the way they look from Little America.

Pretty soon there were more people crowding around, trying to see, and kids shoving and their mothers saying, “Now, now, darling!” and making silly remarks themselves. I gave up. I pulled myself back to my couch and put one belt around me so I wouldn’t float away and thought about it.

It makes you proud to know that you come from a big, fancy planet like that. I got to thinking that I hadn’t seen all of it, not by a long sight, in spite of all the geography trips I had made and going to one Scout round-up in Switzerland and the time George and Anne and I went to Siam.

And now I wasn’t going to see any more of it. It made me feel pretty solemn.

I looked up; there was a boy standing in front of me. He said, “What’s the trouble, William, my boy? Dropsick?”

It was that twerp Jones. You could have knocked me out with a feather. If I had known he was going to emigrate, I would have thought twice about it. I asked him where in the world he had come from.

“The same place you did, naturally. I asked you a question.”

I informed him that I was not dropsick and asked him whatever gave him that silly notion. He reached out and grabbed my arm and turned it so that the red spot the injection had made showed. He laughed and I jerked my arm away.

He laughed again and showed me his arm; it had a red spot on it, too. “Happens to the best of us,” he said. “Don’t be shy about it.” Then he said, “Come on. Let’s look around the joint before they make us strap down again.”

I went along. He wasn’t what I would pick for a buddy but he was a familiar face. We worked our way over to the hatch to the next deck. I started to go through but Jones stopped me. “Let’s go into the control room,” he suggested.

“Huh? Oh, they wouldn’t let us!”

“Is it a crime to try? Come on.” We went back the other way and through a short passage. It ended in a door that was marked: CONTROL ROOM- STAY OUT! Somebody had written under it: This means you!!! and somebody else had added: Who? Me?

Jones tried it; it was locked. There was a button beside it; he pushed it.

It opened and we found ourselves staring into the face of a man with two stripes on his collar. Behind him was an older man with four stripes on his; he called out, “Who is it, Sam? Tell ’em we’re not in the market.”

The first man said, “What do you kids want?”

Jones said, “Please, sir, we’re interested in astrogation. Could we have permission to visit the control room?”

I could see he was going to chuck us out and I had started to turn away when the older man called out, “Oh, shucks, Sam, bring ’em in!” The younger fellow shrugged and said, “As you say, Skipper.”

We went in and the Captain said, “Grab on to something; don’t float around. And don’t touch anything, or I’ll cut your ears off. Now who are you?”

We told him; he said, “Glad to know you, Hank-same to you, Bill. Welcome aboard.” Then he reached out and touched the sleeve of my uniform–it had come loose again. “Son, your underwear is showing.”

I blushed and told him how I happened to be wearing it. He laughed and said, “So you swindled us into lifting it anyway. That’s rich–eh, Sam? Have a cup of coffee.”

They were eating sandwiches and drinking coffee– not from cups, of course, but from little plastic bags like they use for babies. The bags even had nipples on them. I said no, thanks. While the shot Miss Andrews gave me had made me feel better, it hadn’t made me feel that much better. Hank Jones turned it down, too.

The control room didn’t have a port in it of any sort. There was a big television screen forward on the bulkhead leading to the nose, but it wasn’t turned on. I wondered what Mrs. Tarbutton would think if she knew that the Captain couldn’t see where we were going and didn’t seem to care.

I asked him about the ports. He said ports were strictly for tourists. “What would you do with a port if you had one?” he asked. “Stick your head out the window and look for road signs? We can see anything we need to see. Sam, heat up the video and show the kids.”

“Aye aye, Skipper.” The other chap swam over to his couch and started turning switches. He left his sandwich hanging in the air while he did so.

I looked around. The control room was circular and the end we came in was bigger than the other end; it was practically up in the nose of the ship and the sides sloped in. There were two couches, one for the pilot and one for the co-pilot, flat against the wall that separated the control room from the passenger compartments. Most of the space between the couches was taken up by the computer.

The couches were fancier than the ones the passengers had; they were shaped to the body and they lifted the knees and the head and back, like a hospital bed, and there were arm rests to support their hands over the ship’s controls. An instrument board arched over each couch at the middle, where the man in the couch could see the dials and stuff even when his head was pushed back into the cushions by high g.

The TV screen lighted up and we could see Earth; it filled most of the screen. “That’s ‘View Aft’,” the copilot said, “from a TV camera in the tail.

We’ve got ’em pointing in all directions. Now we’ll try ‘View Forward’.” He did, but it didn’t amount to anything, just a few tiny little dots that might have been stars. Hank said you could see more stars out a port.

“You don’t use it to look at stars,” he answered. “When you need to take a star sight, you use the coelostats. Like this.” He lay back on the couch and reached behind his head, pulling an eye piece arrangement over his face until the rubber guard fitted over one eye without lifting his head off the couch.

“Coelostat” is just a trick name for a telescope with a periscope built into it. He didn’t offer to let us look through it, so I looked back at the instrument board. It had a couple of radar presentations, much like you’ll find in any atmosphere ship, even in a copter, and a lot of other instruments, most of which I didn’t understand, though some of them were pretty obvious, like approach rate and throat temperature and mass ratio and ejection speed and such.

“Watch this,” said the co-pilot. He did something at his controls; one of the tiny blips on the TV screen lit up very brightly, blinked a few times, then died away. “That was Supra-New-York; I triggered her radar beacon. You are not seeing it by television; it’s radar brought on to the same screen.” He fiddled with the controls again and another light blinked, two longs and a short. “That’s where they’re building the Star Rover.”

“Where’s the Mayflower?Hank asked.

“Want to see where you’re going, eh?” He touched his controls again; another light came on, way off to one side, flashing in groups of three.

I said it didn’t look much like we were going there. The Captain spoke up. “We’re taking the long way round, past the fair grounds. That’s enough, Sam. Lock your board.”

We all went back where the Captain was still eating. “You an Eagle Scout?” he asked me. I said yes and Hank said he was too.

“How old were you when you made it?” he wanted to know. I said I had been thirteen, so Hank said twelve, whereupon the Captain claimed he had made it at eleven. Personally I didn’t believe either one of them.

The Captain said so now we were going out to Ganymede; he envied both of us. The co-pilot said what was there to envy about that? The Captain said, “Sam, you’ve got no romance in your soul. You’ll live and die running a ferry boat.”

“Maybe so,” the co-pilot answered, “but I sleep home a lot of nights.”

The Captain said pilots should not marry. “Take me,” he said, “I always wanted to be a deep-space man. I was all set for it, too, when I was captured by pirates and missed my chance. By the time I had the chance again, I was married.”

“You and your pirates,” said the co-pilot.

I kept my face straight. Adults always think anybody younger will swallow anything; I try not to disillusion them.

“Well, all that’s as may be,” said the Captain. “You two young gentlemen run along now. Mr. Mayes and I have got to fake up a few figures, or we’ll be landing this bucket in South Brooklyn.”

So we thanked him and left.

I found Dad and Molly and the Brat in the deck aft of my own. Dad said, “Where have you been, Bill? I’ve been looking all over the ship for you.” I told them, “Up in the control room with the Captain.”

Dad looked surprised and the Brat made a face at me and said, “Smarty, you have not. Nobody can go up there.”

I think girls should be raised in the bottom of a deep, dark sack until they are old enough to know better. Then when it came time, you could either let them out or close the sack and throw them away, whichever was the best idea.

Molly said, “Hush, Peggy.”

I said, “You can just ask Hank. He was with me. We–” I looked around but Hank was gone. So I told them what had happened, all but the part about pirates.

When I finished the Brat said, “I want to go into the control room, too.”

Dad said he didn’t think it could be arranged. The Brat said, “Why not? Bill went.”

Molly said hush again. “Bill is a boy and older than you are.” The Brat said it wasn’t fair.

I guess she had something there–but things hardly ever are. Dad went on, “You should feel flattered, Bill, being entertained by the famous Captain DeLongPre.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe you are too young to remember it. He let himself be sealed into one of the robot freighters used to jump thorium ore from the lunar mines– and busted up a ring of hijackers, a gang the newscasters called the ‘Ore Pirates.'”

I didn’t say anything.

I wanted to see the Mayflower from space, but they made us strap down before I could locate it. I got a pretty good view of Supra-New-York though; the Mayflower was in the 24-hour orbit the space station rides in and we were closing almost directly on it when the word came to strap down.

Captain DeLongPre was quite some pilot. He didn’t fiddle around with jockeying his ship into the new groove; he gave one long blast on the jet, the right time, the right amount, and the right direction. As it says in the physics book, “every one-plane correction-of-orbit problem which can be solved at all, can be solved with a single application of acceleration”–provided the pilot is good enough.

He was good enough. When we went weightless again, I looked over my shoulder out a port and there was the Mayflower, with the Sun gleaming on her, large as life and not very far away. There was the softest sort of a correction bump and the loudspeaker sang out, “Contact completed. You may unstrap.”

I did and went to the port from which we could see the Mayflower. It was easy to see why she could never land; she had no airfoils of any sort, not even fins, and she was the wrong shape–almost spherical except that one side came out to a conical point.

She looked much too small–then I realized that a little bulge that was sticking out past her edge at one point was actually the bow of the Icarus,

unloading on the far side. Then suddenly she was enormous and the little flies on her were men in space suits.

One of them shot something at us and a line came snaking across. Before the knob on the end of it quite reached us there was a bright purple brush discharge from the end of it and every hair on my head stood straight up and my skin prickled.

A couple of the women in the compartment squealed and I heard Miss Andrews soothing them down and telling them that it was just the electrical potential adjusting between the two ships. If she had told them it was a bolt of lightning she would have been just as correct, but I don’t suppose that would have soothed them.

I wasn’t scared; any kid who had fooled around with radio or any sort of electronics would have expected it.

The knob on the line clunked against the side of the ship and after a bit the little line was followed by a heavier line and then they warped us together, slowly. The Mayflower came up until she filled the port.

After a bit my ears popped and the loudspeaker said, “All hands–prepare to disembark.”

Miss Andrews made us wait quite a while, then it was our deck’s turn and we pulled ourselves along to the deck we had come in by. Mrs. Tarbutton didn’t come along; she and her husband were having some sort of a discussion with Miss Andrews.

We went right straight out of our ship, through a jointed steel drum about ten feet long, and into the Mayflower.

5.   Captain Harkness

Do you know the worst thing about spaceships? They smell bad.

Even the Mayflower smelled bad and she was brand new. She smelled of oil and welding and solvents and dirty, sweaty smells of all the workmen who had lived in her so long. Then we came, three shiploads of us, most of us pretty whiff with that bad odor people get when they’re scared or very nervous. My stomach still wasn’t happy and it almost got me.

The worst of it is that there can’t be very good ‘freshers in a ship; a bath is a luxury. After the ship got organized we were issued tickets for two baths a week, but how far does that go, especially when a bath means two gallons of water to sponge yourself off with?

If you felt you just had to have a bath, you could ask around and maybe buy a ticket from somebody who was willing to skip one. There was one boy in my bunk room who sold his tickets for four weeks running until we all got sick of it and gave him an unscheduled bath with a very stiff brush. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

And you couldn’t burn your clothes either; you had to wash them.

When we first got into the Mayflower it took them maybe half an hour to get us all sorted out and into our acceleration couches. The people from the Daedalus and the Icarus were supposed to be stowed away by the time we got there, but they weren’t and the passageways were traffic jams. A traffic jam when everybody is floating, and you don’t know which end is up, is about eight times as confusing as an ordinary one.

There weren’t any stewardesses to get us straight, either; there were emigrants instead, with signs on their chests reading SHIP’S AIDE-but a lot of them needed aid themselves; they were just as lost as anybody else. It was like amateur theatricals where the ushers don’t know how to find the reserved seats.

By the time I was in the bunk room I was assigned to and strapped down there were bells ringing all over the place and loudspeakers shouting: “Prepare for acceleration! Ten minutes!”

Then we waited.

It seemed more like half an hour. Presently the count-off started. I said to myself, William, if the blast-off from Earth was rugged, this is going to knock the teeth right out of your head. I knew what we were going to build up to–better than ninety-three miles per second. That’s a third of a million miles an hour! Frankly I was scared.

The seconds ticked away; there was a soft push that forced me down against the cushions–and that was all. I just lay there; the ceiling was the ceiling again and the floor was under me, but I didn’t feel extra heavy, I felt fine.

I decided that was just the first step; the next one would be a dilly.

Up overhead in the bunk room was a display screen; it lighted up and I was looking into the face of a man with four collar stripes; he was younger than Captain DeLongPre. He smiled and said, “This is your Captain speaking, friends–Captain Harkness. The ship will remain at one gravity for a little more than four hours. I think it is time to serve lunch, don’t you?”

He grinned again and I realized that my stomach wasn’t bothering me at all–except that I was terribly hungry. I guess he knew that all of us ground hogs would be starving to death as soon as we were back to normal weight. He went on:

“We’ll try to serve you just as quickly as possible. It is all right for you to unstrap now, sit up, and relax, but I must ask you to be very careful about one thing:

“This ship is precisely balanced so that the thrust of our drive passes exactly through our center of gravity. If that were not so, we would tend to spin instead of moving in a straight line–and we might fetch up in the heart of the Sun instead of at Ganymede.

“None of us wants to become an impromptu barbecue, so I will ask each of you not to move unnecessarily from the neighborhood of your couch. The ship has an automatic compensator for a limited amount of movement, but we must not overload it–so get permission from your ship’s aide before moving as much as six inches from your present positions.”

He grinned again and it was suddenly a most unpleasant grin. “Any one violating this rule will be strapped down by force–and the Captain will assign punishment to fit the crime after we are no longer under drive.”

There wasn’t any ship’s aide in our compartment; all we could do was wait. I got acquainted with the boys in the bunkroom, some older, some

younger. There was a big, sandy-haired boy about seventeen, by the name of Edwards–“Noisy” Edwards. He got tired of waiting.

I didn’t blame him; it seemed like hours went past and still nothing to eat. I thought we had been forgotten.

Edwards had been hanging around the door, peering out. Finally he said, “This is ridiculous! We can’t sit here all day. I’m for finding out what’s the hold up. Who’s with me?”

One of the fellows objected, “The Captain said to sit tight.”

“What if he did? And what can he do if we don’t? We aren’t part of the crew.”

I pointed out that the Captain had authority over the whole ship, but he brushed me off. “Tommyrot! We got a right to know what’s going on–and a right to be fed. Who’s coming along?”

Another boy said, “You’re looking for trouble, Noisy.”

Edwards stopped; I think he was worried by the remark but he couldn’t back down. Finally he said, “Look, we’re supposed to have a ship’s aide and we haven’t got one. You guys elect me ship’s aide and I’ll go bring back chow. How’s that?”

Nobody objected out loud. Noisy said, “Okay, here I go.”

He couldn’t have been gone more than a few seconds when a ship’s aide showed up carrying a big box of packaged rations. He dealt them out and had one left over. Then he counted the bunks. “Weren’t there twenty boys in here?” he asked.

We looked at each other but nobody said anything. He pulled out a list and called our names. Edwards didn’t answer, of course, and he left, taking Noisy’s ration with him.

Then Noisy showed up and saw us eating and wanted to know where his lunch was. We told him; he said, “For the love of Mike! Why didn’t you guys save it for me? A fine bunch you turned out to be.” And he left again.

He came back shortly, looking mad. A ship’s aide followed him and strapped him down.

We had about reached the teeth-picking stage when the screen on the ceiling lit up again and there was the Moon. It looked as if we were headed right toward it and coming up fast. I began to wonder if Captain Harkness had dropped a decimal point.

I lay back on my couch and watched it grow. After a while it looked worse. When it had grown until it filled the screen and more and it seemed as if we couldn’t possibly miss, I saw that the mountains were moving past on the screen from right to left. I breathed a sigh of relief; maybe the Old Man knew what he was doing after all.

A voice came over the speaker: “We are now passing the Moon and tacking slightly in so doing. Our relative speed at point of closest approach is more than fifty miles per second, producing a somewhat spectacular effect.”

I’ll say it was spectacular! We zipped across the face of the Moon in about half a minute, then it faded behind us. I suppose they simply kept a TV camera trained on it, but it looked as if we had dived in, turned sharply, and raced out again. Only you don’t make sharp turns at that speed.

About two hours later they stopped gunning her. I had fallen asleep and I dreamed I was making a parachute jump and the chute failed to open. I woke up with a yell, weightless, with my stomach dropping out of me again. It took me a moment to figure out where I was.

The loudspeaker said: “End of acceleration. Spin will be placed on the ship at once.”

But it did not happen all at once; it happened very slowly. We drifted toward one wall and slid down it toward the outer wall of the ship. That made what had been the outer wall the floor; we stood on it– and the side with the bunks on it was now a wall and the side with the TV screen on it, which had been the ceiling, was now the opposite wall. Gradually we got heavier.

Noisy was still strapped to his couch; the ship’s aide had moved the buckles so that he could not reach them himself. Now he was up against the wall, hanging on the straps like a papoose. He began to yell for us to help him down.

He was not in any danger and he could not have been too uncomfortable, for we weren’t up to a full gravity, not by a whole lot. It turned out later that

the Captain had brought the spin up to one-third g and held it there, because Ganymede has one-third g. So there wasn’t any urgent need to turn Noisy loose.

Nor was there any rush to do so. We were still discussing it and some of the fellows were making comical remarks which Noisy did not appreciate when the same ship’s aide came in, unstrapped Noisy, and told all of us to follow him.

That’s how I happened to attend Captain’s mast.

“Captain’s mast” is a sort of court, like when in ancient times the lord of the countryside would sit and dispense the high and middle justice. We followed the aide, whose name was Dr. Archibald, to Captain Harkness’s cabin. There were a lot of other people waiting there in the passage outside the cabin. Presently Captain Harkness came out and Noisy was the first case.

We were all witnesses but the Captain didn’t question but a few of us; I wasn’t questioned. Dr. Archibald told about finding Noisy wandering around the ship while we were under acceleration and the Captain asked Noisy if he had heard the order to stay at his bunk?

Noisy beat around the bush a good deal and tried to spread the blame on all of us, but when the Captain pinned him down he had to admit that he had heard the order.

Captain Harkness said, “Son, you are an undisciplined lunk. I don’t know what sort of trouble you’ll run into as a colonist, but so far as my ship is concerned, you’ve had it.”

He mused for a moment, than added, “You say you did this because you were hungry?” Noisy said yes, he hadn’t had anything since breakfast and he still hadn’t had his lunch. “Ten days bread and water,” said the Captain. “Next case.”

Noisy looked as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

The next case was the same thing, but a woman-one of those large, impressive ones who run things. She had had a row with her ship’s aide and had stomped off to tell the Captain about it personally– while we were under acceleration.

Captain Harkness soon cut through the fog. “Madam,” he said, with icy dignity, “by your bull-headed stupidity you have endangered the lives of all of us. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

She started a tirade about how “rude” the aide had been to her and how she never heard of anything so preposterous in her life as this kangaroo court, and so forth, and so forth. The Captain cut her short.

“Have you ever washed dishes?” he asked. “Why, no!”

“Well, you are going to wash dishes–for the next four hundred million miles.”

6.   E = MC 2

I looked up dad after they let us go. It was like finding a needle in a haystack but I kept asking and presently I found him. Molly and he had a room to themselves. Peggy was there and I thought she was rooming with them, which annoyed me some, until I saw that there were only two couches and realized that Peggy must be in a dormitory. It turned out that all the kids over eight were in dormitories.

Dad was busy unclamping their couches and moving them to what was the floor, now that the ship was spinning. He stopped when I came in and we sat around and talked. I told him about Captain’s mast. He nodded. “We saw it in the screen. I didn’t notice your shining face, however.”

I said I hadn’t been called on.

“Why not?” Peggy wanted to know.

“How should I know?” I thought about mast for a bit and said, “Say, George, the skipper of a ship in space is just about the last of the absolute monarchs, isn’t he?”

Dad considered it and said, “Mmm … no, he’s a constitutional monarch. But he’s a monarch all right.” “You mean we have to bow down to him and say ‘Your Majesty?” Peggy wanted to know.

Molly said, “I don’t think that would be advisable, Peg.” “Why not? I think it would be fun.”

Molly smiled. “Well, let me know how you make out. I suspect that he will just turn you over his knee and paddle you.” “Oh, he wouldn’t dare! I’d scream.”

I wasn’t so sure. I remembered those four hundred million miles of dirty dishes. I decided that, if the Captain said “Frog,” I’d hop.

If Captain Harkness was a monarch, he didn’t seem anxious to rule; the first thing he had us do was to hold an election and set up a ship’s council. After that we hardly laid eyes on him.

Everybody over eighteen could vote. The rest of us got to vote, too; we were told to set up a junior council–not that it was ever good for anything.

But the senior council, the real council, ran the ship from then on. It even acted as a court and the Captain never handed out punishments again. Dad told me that the Captain reviewed everything that the council did, that he had to, to make it legal–but I never heard of him over-ruling their decisions.

And you know what the first thing was that that council did–after setting up meal hours and simple things like that? They decided we had to go to school!

The junior council promptly held a meeting and passed a resolution against it, but it didn’t mean anything. We had school, just the same.

Peggy was on the junior council. I asked her why she didn’t resign if she wasn’t going to do anything. I was just teasing–as a matter of fact she put up quite a battle for us.

School wasn’t so bad, though. There is very little to do in space and when you’ve seen one star you’ve seen ’em all. And the first thing we had in school was a tour of the ship, which was all right.

We went in groups of twenty and it took all day – “day” by ship’s time, I mean. The Mayflower was shaped like a ball with a cone on one side–top shaped. The point of the cone was her jet–although Chief Engineer Ortega, who showed us around, called it her “torch.”

If you count the torch end as her stern, then the round end, her bow, was where the control room was located; around it were the Captain’s cabin and the staterooms of the officers. The torch and the whole power plant space were cut off from the rest of the ship by a radiation shield that ran right through the ship. From the shield forward to the control room was a big cargo space.

It was a cylinder more than a hundred feet in diameter and was split up into holds. We were carrying all sorts of things out to the colony –earth moving machinery, concentrated soil cultures, instruments, I don’t know what all.

Wrapped around this central cylinder were the decks for living, “A” deck just inside the skin of the ship, “B” deck under it, and “C” deck just inside that, with “D” deck’s ceiling being the outer wall of the cargo space. “D” deck was the mess rooms and galley and recreation rooms and sick bay and such; the three outer decks were bunk rooms and staterooms. “A” deck had steps in it every ten or fifteen feet because it was fitted into the outer curve of the ship; this made the ceilings in it of various heights.

The furthest forward and furthest aft on “A” deck were only about six feet between floor and ceiling and some of the smaller kids lived in them, while at the greatest width of the ship the ceilings in “A” deck must have been twelve or thirteen feet high.

From inside the ship it was hard to see how it all fitted together. Not only was it all chopped up, but the artificial gravity we had from spinning the ship made directions confusing–anywhere you stood on a deck it seemed level, but it curved sharply up behind you and in front of you. But you never came to the curved part; if you walked forward it was still level. If you walked far enough you looped the loop and came back to where you started, having walked clear around the ship.

I never would have figured it out if Mr. Ortega hadn’t drawn a sketch for us.

Mr. Ortega told us that the ship was spinning three and six-tenths revolutions per minute or two hundred and sixteen complete turns an hour, which was enough to give “B” deck a centrifugal force of one-third g. “B” deck was seventy-five feet out from the axis of the Mayflower; “A” deck where I lived was further out and you weighed maybe a tenth more there, while “C” deck caught about a tenth less. “D” deck was quite a lot less and you could make yourself dizzy if you stood up suddenly in the mess room.

The control room was right on the axis; you could float in it even when the ship was spinning–or so they told me; I never was allowed inside.  Spinning the ship had another odd effect: all around us was “down.” I mean to say that the only place you could put a view port was in the floor

plates of “A” deck and that’s where they were, four of them–big ones, each in its own compartment.

Mr. Ortega took us into one of these view galleries. The view port was a big round quartz plate in the floor, with a guard rail around it.

The first ones into the room went up to the guard rail and then backed away from it quick and two of the girls squealed. I pushed forward and got to the rail and looked down . . and I was staring straight into the very bottom of the universe, a million trillion miles away and all of it down.

I didn’t shy away–George says I’m more acrobat than acrophobe–but I did sort of grip the railing. Nobody wants to fall that far.

The quartz was surface-treated so that it didn’t give off reflections and it looked as if there were nothing at all between you and Kingdom Come.

The stars were reeling across the hole from the ship spinning, which made it worse. The Big Dipper came swinging in from the left, passed almost under me, and slid away to the right–and a few seconds later it was back again. I said, “This is where I came in,” and gave up my place so that someone else could have a look, but nobody seemed anxious to.

Then we went through the hydroponics plant, but there wasn’t anything fancy about that–just enough plants growing to replace the oxygen we used up breathing. Eel grass, it was mostly, but there was a vegetable garden as well. I wondered how they had gotten it going before they had the passengers aboard? Mr. Ortega pointed to a CO2 fitting in the wall. “We had to subsidize them, of course.”

I guess I should have known it; it was simple arithmetic.

The Chief led us back into one of the mess rooms, we sat down, and he told us about the power plant.

He said that there had been three stages in the development of space ships: first was the chemical fuel rocket ship that wasn’t very different from the big German war rockets used in the Second World War, except that they were step rockets. “You kids are too young to have seen such rockets,” he said, “but they were the biggest space ships ever built. They had to be big because they were terribly inefficient. As you all know, the first rocket to reach the Moon was a four-stage rocket. Its final stage was almost as long as the Mayflower–yet its pay load was less than a ton.

“It is characteristic of space ship development that the ships have gotten smaller instead of bigger. The next development was the atom-powered rocket. It was a great improvement; steps were no longer necessary. That meant that a ship like the Daedalus could take off from Earth without even a catapult, much less step rockets, and cruise to the Moon or even to Mars.

But such ships still had the shortcomings of rockets; they depended on an atomic power plant to heat up reaction mass and push it out a jet, just as their predecessors depended on chemical fuel for the same purpose.

“The latest development is the mass-conversion ship, such as the Mayflower, and it may be the final development–a mass-conversion ship is theoretically capable of approaching the speed of light. Take this trip: we accelerated at one gravity for about four hours and twenty minutes which brought us up to more than ninety miles a second. If we had held that drive for a trifle less than a year, we would approach the speed of light.

“A mass-conversion ship has plenty of power to do just that. At one hundred per cent efficiency, it would use up about one per cent of her mass as energy and another one per cent as reaction mass. That’s what the Star Rover is going to do when it is finished.”

One of the younger kids was waving his hand. “Mister Chief Engineer?”

“Yes, son?”

“Suppose it goes on a few weeks longer and passes the speed of light?” Mr. Ortega shook his head. “It can’t.”

“Why not, sir?”

“Eh, how far have you gone in mathematics, sonny?”

“Just through grammer school calculus,” the kid answered.

‘Tm afraid there is no use in trying to explain it, then. Just take it from me that the big brains are sure it can’t be done.”

I had worried about that very point more than once. Why can’t you go faster than light? I know all that old double-talk about how the Einstein equations show that a speed faster than light is a meaningless quantity, like the weight of a song or the color of a sound, because it involves the square root of minus one–but all of that is just theory and if the course we had in history of science means anything at all, it means that scientists change their theories about as often as a snake changes his skin. I stuck up my hand.

“Okay,” he says. “You with the cowlick. Speak up.”

“Mr. Ortega, admitting that you can’t pass the speed of light, what would happen if the Star Rover got up close to the speed of light–and then the Captain suddenly stepped the drive up to about six g and held it there?”

“Why, it would– No, let’s put it this way–” He broke off and grinned; it made him look real young. “See here, kid, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m an engineer with hairy ears, not a mathematical physicist.” He looked thoughtful and added, “Truthfully, I don’t know what would happen, but I would sure give a pretty to find out. Maybe we would find out what the square root of minus one looks like– from the inside.”

He went on briskly, “Let’s go on about the Mayflower. You probably know that when the original Star Rover failed to come back, the Mayflower was designed to be the Star Rover II, but the design was obsolete before they ever started putting her together.

So they shifted the name over to the new intersteller ship, the Star Rover III, renamed this one the Mayflower and grabbed her for the colonial service.

“You kids should consider how lucky you are. Up to now, emigrants to Ganymede have had to spend two years and nine months in space, just to get there. You’re making it in two months.”

“Couldn’t we go faster?” somebody wanted to know.

“We could,” he told us. “But we don’t need to and it runs up the astrogation and control difficulties. In these new ships the power plant has gotten way ahead of the instrumentation. Be patient; your grandchildren will make the trip in a week, blasting at one g all the way. There’ll be so many ships they’ll have to have traffic cops and maybe we can come close to shipping out as many people as there are extras born each year.

“Enough about that,” he went on. “Who here can tell me what ‘E equals M C squared’ means?”

I could have answered but I had already spoken up once and it doesn’t do to get a reputation for apple polishing. Finally one of the older kids said, “It means that mass can be converted into energy.”

“Right!” Mr. Ortega agreed. “The first real demonstration of that was the atom bomb they set off ‘way back in 1945 at Alamogordo, New Mexico. That was a special case; they still didn’t know how to control it; all they could do was to make one whale of a big bang.

Then came the uranium power plants, but that still didn’t amount to much because it was a very special case and only a microscopic percentage of the mass was converted into energy. It wasn’t until Kilgore’s energy transformation equations–don’t worry about them; you’ll study them when you are older if you are interested–it wasn’t until Kilgore showed how it could be done that we had any idea of howto do what Dr. Einstein’s energy- mass equation said, clear back in 1905.

“And we still didn’t know how to control it. If we were going to turn mass into energy, we needed more mass with which to surround the reaction, a very special sort of mass that would not turn into energy when we didn’t want it to and would hold the reaction where we wanted it. Ordinary metal

wouldn’t do; one might as well use soft butter.

“But the Kilgore equations showed how to do that, too, when they were read correctly. Now has anyone here any notion of how much energy you get when you convert a chunk of mass into raw energy?”

Nobody knew. “It’s all in that one equation,” he said, “good old Doc Einstein’s ‘E equals M C squared.’ It comes out that one gram of mass gives nine times ten to the twentieth power ergs.” He wrote it down for us: 1 gm. = 9 x l020 ergs.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” he said. “Now try it this way:” He wrote down 900,000,000,000,000,000,000 ergs.

“Read it off. Nine hundred thousand million billion ergs. It still doesn’t mean much, does it? Figures like that are impossible to comprehend. The nuclear physicists keep a barrel of zeroes around handy the way a carpenter does a keg of nails.

“I’ll try once more,” he went on. “A pound of mass, any old mass, say a pound of feathers, when converted into energy equals fifteen billion

horsepower-hours. Does that give anyone a notion of why the Mayflower was assembled out in an orbit and will never ever land anywhere?”

“Too hot,” somebody said.

“‘Too hot’ is an understatement. If the Mayftower had blasted off from Mojave space port the whole Los Angeles Borough of the City of Southern California would have been reduced to a puddle of lava and people would have been killed by radiation and heat from Bay City to Baja California. And that will give you an idea of why the shielding runs right through the ship between here and the power plant, with no way at all to get at the torch.”

We had the misfortune to have Noisy Edwards along, simply because he was from the same bunk room. Now he spoke up and said, “Suppose you have to make a repair?”

“There is nothing to go wrong,” explained Mr. Ortega. “The power plant has no moving parts of any sort” Noisy wasn’t satisfied. “But suppose something did go wrong, how would you fix it if you can’t get at it?”

Noisy has an irritating manner at best; Mr. Ortega sounded a little impatient when he answered. “Believe me, son, even if you could get at it, you wouldn’t want to. No indeed!”

“Humph!” said Noisy. “All I’ve got to say is, if there isn’t any way to make a repair when a repair is needed, what’s the use in sending engineer officers along?”

You could have heard a pin drop. Mr. Ortega turned red, but all he said was, “Why, to answer foolish questions from youngsters like yourself, I suppose.” He turned to the rest of us. “Any more questions?”

Naturally nobody wanted to ask any then. He added, “I think that’s enough for one session. School’s out.”

I told Dad about it later. He looked grim and said, “I’m afraid Chief Engineer Ortega didn’t tell you the whole truth.” “Huh?”

“In the first place there is plenty for him to do in taking care of the auxiliary machinery on this side of the shield. But it is possible to get at the torch, if necessary.”

“Huh? How?”

“There are certain adjustments which could conceivably have to be made in extreme emergency. In which case it would be Mr. Ortega’s proud privilege to climb into a space suit, go outside and back aft, and make them.”

“You mean–“

“I mean that the assistant chief engineer would succeed to the position of chief a few minutes later. Chief engineers are very carefully chosen, Bill, and not just for their technical knowledge.”

It made me feel chilly inside; I didn’t like to think about it.

1.   Scouting in Space

Making a trip in a space ship is about the dullest way to spend time in the world, once the excitement wears off. There’s no scenery, nothing to do, and no room to do it in. There were nearly six thousand of us crowded into the Mayflower and that doesn’t leave room to swing a cat.

Take “B” deck–there were two thousand passengers sleeping in it. It was 150 feet across–fore and aft, that is–and not quite 500 feet around, cylinder fashion. That gives about forty square feet per passenger, on the average, but a lot was soaked up in stairs, passageways, walls, and such. It worked out that each one had about room enough for his bunk and about that much left over to stand on when he wasn’t sleeping.

You can’t give a rodeo in that kind of space; you can’t even get up a game of ring-around-the-rosy.

“A” deck was larger and “C” deck was smaller, being nearer the axis, but they averaged out the same. The council set up a staggered system to get the best use out of the galley and the mess rooms and to keep us from falling over each other in the ‘freshers. “A” deck was on Greenwich time; “B” deck was left on zone plus-eight time, or Pacific West Coast time; and “C” deck drew zone minus-eight time, Philippine time.

That would have put us on different days, of course, but the day was always figured officially on Greenwich time; the dodge was just to ease the pressure on eating facilities.

That was really all we had to worry about. You would wake up early, not tired but bored, and wait for breakfast Once breakfast was over, the idea was to kill time until lunch. All afternoon you could look forward to the terrific excitement of having dinner.

I have to admit that making us go to school was a good plan; it meant that two and a half hours every morning and every afternoon was taken care of. Some of the grown ups complained that the mess rooms and all the spare space was always crowded with classes, but what did they expect us to do? Go hang on sky hooks? We used up less space in class than if we had been under foot.

Still, it was a mighty odd sort of school. There were some study machines in the cargo but we couldn’t get at them and there wouldn’t have been enough to go around. Each class consisted of about two dozen kids and some adult who knew something about something. (You’d be surprised how many adults don’t know anything about anything!) The grown up would talk about what he knew best and the kids would listen, then we would ask questions and he would ask questions. No real examinations, no experiments, no demonstrations, no stereos.

Dad says this is the best kind of a school, that a university consists of a log with a teacher on one end and a pupil on the other. But Dad is a sort of romantic.

Things got so dull that it was hardly worth while to keep up my diary, even if I had been able to get microfilm, which I wasn’t.

Dad and I played an occasional game of cribbage in the evening–somehow Dad had managed to squeeze the board and a pack of cards into his weight allowance. Then he got too busy with technical planning he was doing for the council and didn’t have time. Molly suggested that I teach her to play, so I did.

After that I taught Peggy to play and she pegged a pretty sharp game, for a girl. It worried me a little that I wasn’t being loyal to Anne in getting chummy with Peg and her mother, but I decided that Anne would want me to do just what I did. Anne was always friendly with everybody.

It still left me with time on my hands. What with only one-third gravity and no exercise I couldn’t sleep more than six hours a night. The lights were out eight hours but they didn’t make us go to bed, not after the trouble they had with it the first week. I used to fool around the corridors after lights out, usually with Hank Jones, until we both would get sleepy. We talked a lot. Hank turned out not to be such a bad guy as long as you kept him trimmed down to size.

I still had my Scout suit with me and kept it folded up in my bunk. Hank came in one morning while I was making up my bunk and noticed it. “See here, William,” he said, “why do you hang on to that? Let the dead past bury its dead.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe there will be Scouting on Ganymede.”

“Not that I ever heard of.”

“Why not? There is Scouting on the Moon.” “Proves nothing,” he answered.

But it got us to talking about it and Hank got a brilliant idea. Why not start up Scouting right now, in the Mayflower?

We called a meeting. Peggy spread the word around for us, through the junior council, and we set it for fifteen-thirty that same afternoon, right after school. Fifteen-thirty Greenwich, or “A” deck time, that is. That made it seven-thirty in the morning for the “B” deck boys and a half hour before midnight for the fellows on “C” deck. It was the best we could do. “B” deck could hurry through breakfast and get to the meeting if they wanted to and we figured that those who were really interested from “C” would stay up for the meeting.

I played my accordion while they were drifting in because Hank’s father said that you needed music to warm up a meeting before it got down to work. The call had read “all Scouts and former Scouts;” by fifteen-forty we had them packed in and spilling into the corridors, even though we had the use of the biggest mess room. Hank called them to order and I put away my accordion and acted as Scribe pro tem, having borrowed a wire recorder from the Communications Officer for the purpose.

Hank made a little speech. I figure him for politics when he grows up. He said that all of us had enjoyed the benefits, the comradeship, and the honorable traditions of Scouting on Earth and it seemed a shame to lose them. He said that the Scouting tradition was the tradition of the explorer and pioneer and there could be no more fitting place and time for it than in the settlement of a new planet. In fact the spirit of Daniel Boone demanded that we continue as Scouts.

I didn’t know he had it in him. It sounded good.

He stopped and slipped me the wink. I got up and said that I wanted to propose a resolution. Then I read it–it had been a lot longer but we cut it down. It read: “Be it resolved–we the undersigned, Scouts and former Scouts of many jurisdictions and now passengers in the good ship Mayflower, having as our purpose to continue the Scouting tradition and to extend the Scouting trail out to the stars, do organize ourselves as the Boy Scouts of Ganymede in accordance with the principles and purpose of Scouting and in so doing do reaffirm the Scout Law.”

Maybe it was flowery but it sounded impressive; nobody laughed. Hank said, “You have heard the resolution; what is your pleasure? Do I hear a second?”

He surely did; there were seconds all over the place. Then he asked for debate.

Somebody objected that we couldn’t call ourselves the Boy Scouts of Ganymede because we weren’t on Ganymede yet. He got a chilly reception and shut up. Then somebody else pointed out that Ganymede wasn’t a star, which made that part about “Carrying the Scouting trail out to the stars” nonsense.

Hank told him that was poetic license and anyhow going out to Ganymede was a step in the right direction and that there would be more steps; what about the Star Rover III? That shut him up.

The worst objection was from “Millimetre” Muntz, a weary little squirt too big for his britches. He said, “Mr. Chairman, this is an outlaw meeting. You haven’t any authority to set up a new Scouting jurisdiction. As a member in good standing of Troop -Ninety-Six, New Jersey, I object to the whole proceeding.”

Hank asked him just what authority he thought Troop Ninety-Six, New Jersey, had out around the orbit of Mars? Somebody yelled, “Throw him out!” Hank banged on the mess table. “It isn’t necessary to throw him out–but, since Brother Millimetre thinks this is not a proper meeting, then it isn’t

proper for him to take part in it. He is excused and the chair will recognize him no further. Are you ready to vote?”

It was passed unanimously and then Hank was elected organizational chairman. He appointed a flock of committees, for organization and for plans and programs and for credentials and tests and for liaison, and such. That last was to dig out the men in the ship who had been troop masters and commissioners and things and get a Court of Honor set up. There were maybe a dozen of the men passengers at the meeting, listening. One of them, a Dr. Archibald who was an aide on “A” deck, spoke up.

“Mr. Chairman, I was a Scoutmaster in Nebraska. I’d like to volunteer my services to this new organization.” Hank looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you, sir. Your application will be considered.”

Dr. Archibald looked startled, but Hank went smoothly on, “We want and need and will appreciate the help of all you older Scouts. The liaison committee is instructed to get the names of any who are willing to serve.”

It was decided that we would have to have three troops, one for each deck, since it wasn’t convenient to try to meet all at the same time. Hank asked all the Explorer Scouts to stand up. There were too many of them, so he asked those who were Eagles to remain standing. There were about a dozen of us.

Hank separated us Eagles by decks and told us to get busy and organize our troops and to start by picking an acting senior patrol leader. “A” deck had only three Eagles, me, Hank, and a kid from another bunk room whom I hadn’t met before, Douglas MacArthur Okajima. Doug and Hank combined on me and I found myself tagged with the job.

Hank and I had planned to finish the meeting with setting up exercises, but there just wasn’t room, so I got out my accordion again and we sang The Scouting Trail and followed it with The Green Hills of Earth. Then we took the oath together again:

“Upon my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my planet, and to keep myself physically fit, mentally alert, and morally straight.” After that the meeting busted up.

For a while we held meetings every day. Between troop meetings and committee meetings and Explorer meetings and patrol leader meetings we didn’t have time to get bored. At first the troops were just “A” troop, “B” troop, and “C” troop, after the decks, but we wanted names to give them some personality. Anyhow I wanted a name for my troop; we were about to start a membership drive and I wanted something with more oomph to it than “‘A'” deck troop.”

Somebody suggested “The Space Rats” but that was voted down, and somebody else suggested “The Mayflowers”; they didn’t bother to vote on that; they simply sat on him.

After that we turned down “The Pilgrims,” “Deep Space Troop,” “Star Rovers,” and “Sky High.” A kid named John Edward Forbes-Smith got up. “Look,” he said, “we’re divided into three troops on the basis of the time zones we use, aren’t we? “B” deck has California time; Cdeck has Philippine time; and we have Greenwich or English time. Why don’t we pick names that will show that fact? We could call ourselves the Saint George Troop.”

Bud Kelly said it was a good idea as far as it went but make it Saint Patrick instead of Saint George; after all, Dublin was on Greenwich time, too, and Saint Patrick was a more important saint.

Forbes-Smith said, “Since when?”

Bud said, “Since always, you limey–” So we sat on both of them, too, and it was decided not to use saints. But Johnny Edwards had a good idea, just the same; we settled on the Baden-Powell Troop, Boy Scouts of Ganymede, which tied in with the English time zone and didn’t offend anybody.

The idea took hold; “C” deck picked Aguinaldo as a name and “B” deck called themselves the Junipero Serra Troop. When I heard that last I was kind of sorry our deck didn’t have California time so that we could have used it. But I got over it; after all “Baden-Powell” is a mighty proud name, too.

For that matter they were all good names–scouts and explorers and brave men, all three of them. Two of them never had a chance to be Scouts in the narrow, organized meaning, but they were all Scouts in the wider sense–like Daniel Boone.

Dad says there is a lot in a name.

As soon as they heard about what we were doing the girls set up Girl Scouting, too, and Peggy was a member of the Florence Nightingale Troop. I suppose there was no harm in it, but why do girls copy what the boys do? We were too busy to worry about them, though; we had to revamp Scouting activities to fit new conditions.

We decided to confirm whatever ranks and badges a boy had held in his former organization–permanent rankings, I mean, not offices. Having been a patrol leader or a scribe didn’t mean anything, but if you were an Eagle on Earth, you stayed one in the B.S.G.; if you were a Cub, then you were still a Cub. If a boy didn’t have records–and about half of them didn’t– we took his Scout oath statement as official.

That was simple; working over the tests and the badges was complicated. After all you can’t expect a boy to pass beekeeping when you haven’t any bees.

(It turned out that there were several swarms of bees sleep-frozen in the cargo, but we didn’t have the use of them.)

But we could set up a merit badge in hydroponics and give tests right there in the ship. And Mr. Ortega set up a test for us in spaceship engineering and Captain Harkness did the same for ballistics and astrogation. By the end of the trip we had enough new tests to let a boy go up for Eagle Scout, once we had a Court of Honor.

That came last. For some reason I couldn’t figure Hank had kept putting off the final report of the liaison committee, the committee which had as its job getting Scout Masters and Commissioners and such. I asked him about it, but he just looked mysterious and said that I would see.

I did see, eventually. At last we had a joint meeting of all three troops to install Scout Masters and dedicate the Court of Honor and such. And from then on the adults ran things and we went back to being patrol leaders at the most. Oh well–it was fun while it lasted.

2.   Trouble

When we were fifty-three days out and about a week to go to reach Ganymede, Captain Harkness used the flywheel to precess the ship so that we could see where we were going–so that the passengers could see, that is; it didn’t make any difference to his astrogation.

You see, the axis of the Mayflower had been pointed pretty much toward Jupiter and the torch had been pointed back at the Sun. Since the view ports were spaced every ninety degrees around the sides, while we had been able to see most of the sky, we hadn’t been able to see ahead to Jupiter nor behind to the Sun. Now he tilted the ship over ninety degrees and we were rolling, so to speak, along our line of flight. That way, you could see Jupiter and the Sun both, from any view port, though not both at the same time.

Jupiter was already a tiny, ruddy-orange disc. Some of the boys claimed they could make out the moons. Frankly, I couldn’t, not for the first three days after the Captain precessed the ship. But it was mighty fine to be able to see Jupiter.

We hadn’t seen Mars on the way out, because Mars happened to be on the far side of the Sun, three hundred million miles away. We hadn’t seen anything but the same old stars you can see from Earth. We didn’t even see any asteroids.

There was a reason for that. When we took off from the orbit of Supra-New-York, Captain Harkness had not aimed the Mayflower straight for where Jupiter was going to be when we got there; instead he had lifted her north of the ecliptic high enough to give the asteroid belt a wide berth. Now anybody knows that meteors are no real hazard in space.

Unless a pilot does deliberately foolish things like driving his ship through the head of a comet it is almost impossible to get yourself hit by a meteor. They are too far between.

On the other hand the asteroid belt has more than its fair share of sky junk. The older power-pile ships used to drive straight through the belt, taking their chances, and none of them was ever hit to amount to anything. But Captain Harkness, having literally all the power in the world, preferred to go around and play it safe. By avoiding the belt there wasn’t a chance in a blue moon that the Mayflower would be hit.

Well, it must have been a blue moon. We were hit.

It was just after reveille, “A” deck time, and I was standing by my bunk, making it up. I had my Scout uniform in my hands and was about to fold it up and put it under my pillow. I still didn’t wear it. None of the others had uniforms to wear to Scout meetings so I didn’t wear mine. But I still kept it tucked away in my bunk.

Suddenly I heard the goldarnest noise I ever heard in my life. It sounded like a rifle going off right by my ear, it sounded like a steel door being slammed, and it sounded like a giant tearing yards and yards of cloth, all at once.

Then I couldn’t hear anything but a ringing in my ears and I was dazed. I shook my head and looked down and I was staring at a raw hole in the ship, almost between my feet and nearly as big as my fist.

There was scorched insulation around it and in the middle of the hole I could see blackness–then a star whipped past and I realized that I was staring right out into space.

There was a hissing noise.

I don’t remember thinking at all. I just wadded up my uniform, squatted down, and stuffed it in the hole. For a moment it seemed as if the suction would pull it on through the hole, then it jammed and stuck and didn’t go any further. But we were still losing air. I think that was the point at which I first realized that we were losing air and that we might be suffocated in vacuum.

There was somebody yelling and screaming behind me that he was killed and alarm bells were going off all over the place. You couldn’t hear yourself think. The air-tight door to our bunk room slid across automatically and settled into its gaskets and we were locked in.

That scared me to death.

I know it has to be done. I know that it is better to seal off one compartment and kill the people who are in it than to let a whole ship die–but, you see, I was in that compartment, personally. I guess I’m just not the hero type.

I could feel the pressure sucking away at the plug my uniform made. With one part of my mind I was recalling that it had been advertised as “tropical weave, self ventilating” and wishing that it had been a solid plastic rain coat instead. I was afraid to stuff it in any harder, for fear it would go all the way through and leave us sitting there, chewing vacuum. I would have passed up desserts for the next ten years for just one rubber patch, the size of my hand.

The screaming had stopped; now it started up again. It was Noisy Edwards, beating on the air-tight door and yelling, “Let me out of here! Get me out of here!”

On top of that I could hear Captain Harkness’s voice coming through the bull horn. He was saying, “H-twelve! Report! H-twelve! Can you hear me?”

On top of that everybody was talking at once.

I yelled: “Quiet!” at the top of my voice–and for a second or so there was quiet.

Peewee Brunn, one of my Cubs, was standing in front of me, looking big-eyed. “What happened, Billy?” he said. I said, “Grab me a pillow off one of the bunks. Jump!”

He gulped and did it. I said, “Peel off the cover, quick!”

He did, making quite a mess of it, and handed it to me–but I didn’t have a hand free. I said, “Put it down on top of my hands.”

It was the ordinary sort of pillow, soft foam rubber. I snatched one hand out and then the other, and then I was kneeling on it and pressing down with the heels of my hands. It dimpled a little in the middle and I was scared we were going to have a blowout right through the pillow.

But it held. Noisy was screaming again and Captain Harkness was still asking for somebody, anybody, in compartment H-12 to tell him what was going on. I yelled “Quiet!” again, and added, “Somebody slug Noisy and shut him up.”

That was a popular idea. About three of them jumped to it. Noisy got clipped in the side of the neck, then somebody poked him in the pit of his stomach and they swarmed over him. “Now everybody keep quiet,” I said, “and keep on keeping quiet. If Noisy lets out a peep, slug him again,” I gasped and tried to take a deep breath and said, “H-twelve, reporting!”

The Captain’s voice answered, “What is the situation there?” “There is a hole in the ship, Captain, but we got it corked up.” “How? And how big a hole?”

I told him and that is about all there was to it. They took a while to get to us because–I found this out afterward–they isolated that stretch of corridor first, with the air-tight doors, and that meant they had to get everybody out of the rooms on each side of us and across the passageway. But presently two men in space suits opened the door and chased all the kids out, all but me. Then they came back. One of them was Mr. Ortega.

“You can get up now, kid,” he said, his voice sounding strange and far away through his helmet. The other man squatted down and took over holding the pillow in place.

Mr. Ortega had a big metal patch under one arm. It had sticky padding on one side. I wanted to stay and watch him put it on but he chased me out and closed the door. The corridor outside was empty but I banged on the air-tight door and they let me through to where the rest were waiting. They wanted to know what was happening but I didn’t have any news for them because I had been chased out.

After a while we started feeling light and Captain Harkness announced that spin would be off the ship for a short time. Mr. Ortega and the other man came back and went on up to the control room. Spin was off entirely soon after that and I got very sick.

Captain Harkness kept the ship’s speaker circuits cut in on his conversations with the men who had gone outside to repair the hole, but I didn’t listen. I defy anybody to be interested in anything when he is drop sick

Then spin came back on and everything was all right and we were allowed to go back into our bunk-room. It looked just the same except that there was a plate welded over the place where the meteorite had come in.

Breakfast was two hours late and we didn’t have school that morning.

That was how I happened to go up to Captain’s mast for the second time. George was there and Molly and Peggy and Dr. Archibald, the Scoutmaster of our deck, and all the fellows from my bunk room and all the ship’s officers. The rest of the ship was cut in by visiplate. I wanted to wear my uniform but it was a mess–torn and covered with sticky stuff. I finally cut off the merit badges and put it in the ship’s incinerator.

The First Officer shouted, “Captain’s Mast for punishments and rewards!” Everybody sort of straightened up and Captain Harkness walked out and faced us. Dad shoved me forward.

The Captain looked at me. “William Lermer?” he said. I said, “Yessir.”

He said, “I will read from yesterday’s log: ‘On twenty-one August at oh-seven-oh-four system standard, while cruising in free fall according to plan, the ship was broached by a small meteorite. Safety interlocks worked satisfactorily and the punctured volume, compartment H-twelve, was isolated with no serious drop in pressure elsewhere in the ship.

  • ‘Compartment H-twelve is a bunk room and was occupied at the time of the emergency by twenty passengers. One of the passengers, William J. Lermer, contrived a makeshift patch with materials at hand and succeeded in holding sufficient pressure for breathing until a repair party could take over.
  • ‘His quick thinking and immediate action unquestionably saved the lives of all persons in compartment H-twelve.’ “

The Captain looked up from the log and went on, “A certified copy of this entry, along with depositions of witnesses, will be sent to Interplanetary Red Cross with recommendation for appropriate action. Another copy will be furnished you. I have no way to reward you except to say that you have my heart-felt gratitude. I know that I speak not only for the officers but for all the passengers and most especially for the parents of your bunk mates.”

He paused and waggled a finger for me to come closer. He went on in a low voice, to me alone, “That really was a slick piece of work. You were on your toes. You have a right to feel proud.”

I said I guessed I had been lucky.

He said, “Maybe. But that sort of luck comes to the man who is prepared for it.”

He waited a moment, then said, “Lermer, have you ever thought of putting in for space training?”

I said I suppose I had but I hadn’t thought about it very seriously. He said, “Well, Lermer, if you ever do decide to, let me know. You can reach me care of the Pilots’ Association, Luna City.”

With that, mast was over and we went away, George and I together and Molly and Peggy following along. I heard Peggy saying, “That’s my brother.” Molly said, “Hush, Peggy. And don’t point.”

Peggy said, “Why not? He is my brother–well, isn’t he?”

Molly said, “Yes, but there’s no need to embarrass him.” But I wasn’t embarrassed.

Mr. Ortega looked me up later and handed me a little, black, twisted piece of metal, about as big as a button. “That’s all there was left of it,” he said, “but I thought you would like to have it–pay you for messing up your Scout suit, so to speak.”

I thanked him and said I didn’t mind losing the uniform; after all, it had saved my neck, too. I looked at the meteorite. “Mr. Ortega, is there any way to tell where this came from?”

“Not really,” he told me, “though you can get the scientific johnnies to cut it up and then express an opinion–if you don’t mind them destroying it.”

I said no, I’d rather .keep it–and I have; I’ve still got it as a pocket piece. He went on, “It’s either a bit of a comet or a piece of the Ruined Planet. We can’t tell which because where we were, there shouldn’t have been either one.”

“Only there was,” I said. “As you say, there was.”

“Uh, Mr. Ortega, why don’t they put enough armor on a ship to stop a little bitty thing like this?” I remembered what the skin of the ship looked like where it had been busted; it seemed awful thin.

“Well, now, in the first place, this meteor is a real giant, as meteors go. In the second place–do you know anything about cosmic rays, Bill?” “Uh, not much, I guess.”

“You undoubtedly know that the human body is transparent to primary cosmic radiation and isn’t harmed by it. That is what we encounter out here in space. But metal is not completely transparent to it and when it passes through metal it kicks up all sorts of fuss–secondary and tertiary and quaternary cosmic radiation.

The stuff cascades and it is not harmless, not by a darn sight. It can cause mutations and do you and your descendants a lot of harm. It adds up to this: a man is safest in space when he has just enough ship around him to keep the air in and ultraviolet out.”

Noisy didn’t have much to say around the compartment for the next couple of days and I thought maybe he had learned his lesson. I was wrong. I ran into him in one of the lower passageways when there was nobody else around. I started to go around him but he stepped in my way. “I want to talk to you,” he said.

“Okay,” I answered. “What’s on your mind?” “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

I didn’t like the way he said it, nor what he said. I said, “I don’t think I’m smart; I am smart.” He made me tired.

“Pretty cocky, aren’t you? You think I ought to be kissing your hand and telling you how grateful I am for saving my life, don’t you?” I said, “Oh, yeah? If that’s what is worrying you, you can just skip it; I didn’t do it for you.

“I know that,” he answered,” and I’m not grateful, see?”

“That’s fine with me,” I told him. “I wouldn’t want a guy like you being grateful to me.”

He was breathing hard. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” he said slowly. And the next thing I knew I had a mouthful of knuckles and I was down.

I got up cautiously, trying to surprise him. But it was no good; he knocked me down again. I tried to kick him while I was down, but he danced out of my way.

The third time he hit me I stayed down. When I quit seeing stars he was gone–and I hadn’t managed to lay a finger on him. I never was any good in a fight; I’m still talking when I ought to be slugging.

I went to a scuttlebutt and bathed my face. Hank ran across me there and asked me what in the world I had been doing. I told him I had run into a door. I told Dad the same thing.

Noisy didn’t bother me any more and we never had anything to say to each other again. I lay awake a long time that night, trying to figure it out. I didn’t get it. The chap who thought up that malarkey about “my strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure” certainly had never met Noisy Edwards.

For my taste Noisy was a no good so-and-so and I wished I had been able to use his face to stuff the hole the meteor made. I thought about a number of ways to fix him, but none of them was any good. As Dad says, sometimes there just isn’t any cure for a situation.

3.   The Moons of Jupiter

Nothing much happened until it was time to make our approach to Jupiter, except that a four-year-old kid turned up missing. The kid’s parents searched all around and they passed the word from the control room for everybody to keep an eye open but they still couldn’t find him.

So we had a chance to try out the Scouts’ emergency organization. The ship’s officers couldn’t search the ship, since there was just the Captain and two watch officers and Mr. Ortega and his assistant chief. Captain Harkness supplied plans to each of the Scoutmasters and we went through that ship like a kid searching his clothes for a half credit. We turned the kid up, all right, in about twenty minutes. Seems the little devil had snuck into the hydroponics room while it was being serviced and had got himself locked in.

While he was in there he had got thirsty and had tried to drink the solutions they raise the plants in – had drunk some, in fact. The result was just about what you would expect. It didn’t do him any real harm but, boy, was that place a mess!

I was talking to Dad about it that night over a game. Peggy had a Girl Scout meeting and Molly was off somewhere; we were alone for once. The baby’s mother had raised particular Ned, just as if there had really been something wrong–I mean, what can happen in a space ship? The kid couldn’t fall overboard.

Dad said her reaction was perfectly natural.

I said, “See, here, George, does it seem to you that some of the emigrants don’t have what it takes to be colonists?” “Mmmm… possibly.”

I was thinking of Noisy but the ones I mentioned were Mrs. Tarbutton, who gave up and didn’t even come along, and that female–Mrs. Grigsby–who got in trouble and had to wash dishes. And another fellow named Saunders who was continually in trouble with the council for trying to live his own life, wild and free, no matter what it did to the rest of us. “George, how did those characters get past the psycho tests?”

George stopped to peg fifteen-four, then said, “Bill, haven’t you ever heard of political influence?” All I said was, “Huh?”

“It’s a shocking thought I know, but you are old enough to get used to the world as it is, instead of the way it ought to be. Take a hypothetical case: I don’t suppose that a niece of a state councilor would be very likely to fail the psycho tests. Oh, she might fail the first tests, but a review board might find differently – if the councilor really wanted her to pass.”

I chewed this over a while. It did not sound like George; he isn’t the cynical type. Me, I’m cynical, but George is usually naive. “In that case, George, there is no use in having psycho tests at all, not if people like that can sneak past.”

“Contrariwise. The tests are usually honest. As for those who sneak past, it doesn’t matter. Old Mother Nature will take care of them in the long run. Survivors survive.” He finished dealing and said, “Wait till you see what I’m going to do to you this hand. You haven’t a chance.”

He always says that. I said, “Anybody who would use public office like that ought to be impeached!”

George said mildly, “Yep. But don’t bum out your jets, son; we’ve got human beings, not angels, to work with.”

On the twenty-fourth of August Captain Harkness took spin off and started bringing us in. We decelerated for better than four hours and then went into free fall about six hundred thousand miles out from Jupiter and on the opposite side from where Ganymede was then. Weightlessness still wasn’t any fun but this time we were ready and everyone got shots for it who wanted them. I took mine and no nonsense.

Theoretically the Mayflower could have made it in one compound maneuver, ending up at the end of deceleration in a tight circular orbit around Ganymede. Practically it was much better to sneak in easy and avoid any more trouble with meteorites–with the “false rings,” that is.

Of course Jupiter doesn’t have rings like Saturn, but it does have quite a lot of sky junk traveling around in the same plane as its moons. If there were enough of it, it would show up like Saturn’s rings. There isn’t that much, but there is enough to make a pilot walk on eggs coming in. This slow approach gave us a fine front seat for a tour of Jupiter and its satellites.

Most of this stuff we were trying to avoid is in the same plane as Jupiter’s equator, just the way Saturn’s rings are–so Captain Harkness brought us in over the top of Jupiter, right across Jupiter’s north pole. That way, we never did get in the danger zone until we had curved down on the other side to reach Ganymede–and by then we were going fairly slow.

But we weren’t going slow when we passed over Jupiter’s north pole, no indeedy! We were making better than thirty miles a second and we were close in, about thirty thousand miles. It was quite a sight.

Jupiter is ninety thousand miles thick; thirty thousand miles is close–too close for comfort.

I got one good look at it for about two minutes from one of the view ports, then had to give up my place to somebody who hadn’t had a turn yet and go back to the bunk room and watch through the vision screen. It was an odd sight; you always think of Jupiter with equatorial bands running parallel across it. But now we were looking at it end on and the bands were circles. It looked like a giant archery target, painted in orange and brick red and brown– except that half of it was chewed away. We saw it in half moon, of course.

There was a dark spot right at the pole. They said that was a zone of permanent clear weather and calm and that you could see clear down to the surface there. I looked but I couldn’t see anything; it just looked dark.

As we came over the top, Io–that’s satellite number one–suddenly came out of eclipse. Io is about as big as the Moon and was about as far away from us at the time as the Moon is from the Earth, so it looked about Moon size. There was just black sky and then there was a dark, blood red disc and in less than five minutes it was brilliant orange, about the color of Jupiter itself. It simply popped up, like magic.

I looked for Barnard’s satellite while we were close in, but missed it. It’s the little one that is less than one diameter from the surface of Jupiter–so close that it whirls around Jupiter in twelve hours. I was interested in it because I knew that the Jovian observatory was on it and also the base for Project Jove.

I probably didn’t miss anything; Barnard’s satellite is only about a hundred and fifty miles in diameter. They say a man can come pretty close to jumping right off it. I asked George about it and he said, no, the escape speed was about five hundred feet per second and who had been filling me up with nonsense?

I looked it up later; he was right. Dad is an absolute mine of useless information. He says a fact should be loved for itself alone.

Callisto was behind us; we had passed her on the way in, but not very close. Europa was off to the right of our course nearly ninety degrees; we saw her in half moon. She was more than four hundred thousand miles away and was not as pretty a sight as the Moon is from Earth.

Ganymede was straight ahead, almost, and growing all the time–and here was a funny thing; Callisto was silvery, like the Moon, but not as bright; Io and Europa were bright orange, as bright as Jupiter itself. Ganymede was downright dull!

I asked George about it; he came through, as usual “Ganymede used to be about as bright as Io and Europa,” he told me. “It’s the greenhouse effect–the heat trap. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to live on it.”

I knew about that, of course; the greenhouse effect is the most important part of the atmosphere project When the 1985 expedition landed Ganymede had a surface temperature a couple of hundred degrees below zero–that’s cold enough to freeze the milk of human kindness! “But look, George,” I objected, “sure, I know about the heat trap, but why is it so dark? It looks like the inside of a sack.”

“Light is heat; heat is light,” he answered. “What’s the difference? It’s not dark on the ground; it goes in and doesn’t come out–and a good thing, too.”

I shut up. It was something new to me and I didn’t understand it, so I decided to wait and not pound my teeth about it.

Captain Harkness slowed her down again as we came up to Ganymede and we got in one good meal while she was under drive. I never did get so I could eat at free fall, even with injections. He leveled her off in a tight circular orbit about a thousand miles up from Ganymede. We had arrived–just as soon as we could get somebody to come and get us.

It was on the trip down to Ganymede’s surface that I began to suspect that being a colonist wasn’t as glamorous and romantic as it had seemed back on Earth. Instead of three ships to carry us all at once, there was just one ship, the Jitterbug, and she would have fitted into one of the Bifrosts compartments. She could carry only ninety of us at a time and that meant a lot of trips.

I was lucky; I had to wait only three days in free fall. But I lost ten pounds.

While I waited, I worked, helping to stow the freight that the Jitterbug brought up each trip. At last it came our turn and we piled into the Jitterbug. She was terrible; she had shelves rather than decks–they weren’t four feet apart. The air was stale and she hadn’t been half way cleaned up since the last trip. There weren’t individual acceleration couches; there were just pads covering the deck space and we covered the pads, shoulder to shoulder–and foot in your eye, for that matter.

The skipper was a loud-mouthed old female they called “Captain Hattie” and she kept bawling us out and telling us to hurry. She didn’t even wait to make sure that we were all strapped down.

Fortunately it didn’t take very long. She drove away so hard that for the first time except in tests I blacked out, then we dropped for about twenty minutes; she gunned her again, and we landed with a terrible bump. And Captain Hattie was shouting, “Out you come, you ground hogsl This is it.”

The Jitterbug carried oxygen, rather than the helium-oxygen mix of the Mayflower. We had come down at ten pounds pressure; now Captain Hattie spilled the pressure and let it adjust to Ganymede normal, three pounds. Sure, three pounds of oxygen is enough to live on; that’s all Earth has–the other twelve pounds are nitrogen. But a sudden drop in pressure like that is enough to make you gasp anyhow. You aren’t suffocating but you feel as if you were.

We were miserable by the time we got out and Peggy had a nose bleed. There weren’t any elevators; we had to climb down a rope ladder. And it was cold!

It was snowing; the wind was howling around us and shaking the ladder–the smallest kids they had to lower with a line. There was about eight inches of snow on the ground except where the splash of the Jitterbugs jet had melted it. I could hardly see, the wind was whipping the snow into my face so, but a man grabbed me by the shoulder, swung me around, and shouted, “Keep moving! Keep moving! Over that way.”

I headed the way he pointed. There was another man at the edge of the blast clearing, singing the same song, and there was a path through the snow, trampled to slush. I could see some other people disappearing in the snow ahead and I took out after them, dogtrotting to keep warm.

It must have been half a mile to the shelter and cold all the way. We weren’t dressed for it. I was chilled through and my feet were soaking wet by the time we got inside.

The shelter was a big hangarlike building and it was not much warmer, the door was open so much, but it was out of the weather and it felt good to be inside. It was jammed with people, some of them in ship suits and some of them Ganymedeans–you couldn’t miss the colonial men; they were bearded and some of them wore their hair long as well. I decided that was one style I was not going to copy; I’d be smooth shaven, like George.

I went scouting around, trying to find George & Co. I finally did. He had found a bale of something for Molly to sit on and she was holding Peggy on her lap. Peg’s nose had stopped bleeding. I was glad to see, but there were dried tears and blood and dirt on her face. She was a sight.

George was looking gloomy, the way he did the first few days without his pipe. I came up and said, “Hi, folks!” George looked around and smiled and said, “Well, Bill, fancy meeting you here! How is it going?”

“Now that you ask me,” I answered, “it looks like a shambles.”

He looked gloomy again and said, “Oh, I suppose they will get things straightened out presently.”

We didn’t get a chance to discuss it. A colonist with snow on his boots and hair on his face stopped near us, put his little fingers to his lips, and whistled. “Pipe down!” he shouted. “I want twelve able-bodied men and boys for the baggage party.” He looked around and started pointing. “You– and you–and you–“

George was the ninth “You”; I was the tenth.

Molly started to protest. I think George might have balked if she had not. Instead he said, “No, Molly, I guess it has to be done. Come on, Bill.” So we went back out into the cold.

There was a tractor truck outside and we were loaded in it standing up, then we lumbered back to the rocket site. Dad saw to it that I was sent up into the Jitterbug to get me out of the weather and I was treated to another dose of Captain Hattie’s tongue; we couldn’t work fast enough to suit her. But we got our baggage lowered finally; it was in the truck by the time I was down out of the ship. The trip back was cold, too.

Molly and Peggy were not where we had left them. The big room was almost empty and we were told to go on into another building through a connecting door. George was upset, I could see, from finding Molly gone.

In the next building there were big signs with arrows: MEN & BOYS-TO THE RIGHT and WOMEN & GIRLS-TO THE LEFT. George promptly turned to the left. He got about ten yards and was stopped by a stem-faced woman dressed like a colonial, in a coverall. “Back the other way,” she said firmly. “This is the way to the ladies’ dormitory.”

“Yes, I know,” agreed Dad, “but I want to find my wife.” “You can look for her at supper.”

“I want to see her now.

“I haven’t any facilities for seeking out any one person at this time. You’ll have to wait.”

“But–” There were several women crowding past us and going on inside. Dad spotted one from our deck in the Mayflower. “Mrs. Archibald!” She turned around. “Oh–Mr. Lermer. How do you do?”

“Mrs. Archibald,” Dad said intently, “could you find Molly and let her know that I’m waiting here?” “Why, I’d be glad to try, Mr. Lermer.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Archibald, a thousand thanks!”

“Not at all.” She went away and we waited, ignoring the stern-faced guard. Presently Molly showed up without Peggy. You would have thought Dad hadn’t seen her for a month.

“I didn’t know what to do, dear,” she said. “They said we had to come and it seemed better to get Peggy settled down. I knew you would find us.” “Where is Peggy now?”

“I put her to bed.”

We went back to the main hall. There was a desk there with a man behind it; over his head was a sign: IMMIGRATION SERVICE-INFORMATION. There was quite a line up at it; we took our place in the queue.

“How is Peggy?” Dad asked.

“I’m afraid she is catching a cold.”

“I hope-” Dad said. “Ah, I HOPEAtchoo! “And so are you,” Molly said accusingly.

“I don’t catch cold,” Dad said, wiping his eyes. “That was just a reflex.”

“Hmm–” said Molly.

The line up took us past a low balcony. Two boys, my age or older, were leaning on the rail and looking us over. They were colonials and one was trying to grow a beard, but it was pretty crummy.

One turned to the other and said, “Rafe, will you look at what they are sending us these days?” The other said, “It’s sad.”

The first one pointed a thumb at me and went on, “Take that one, now–the artistic type, no doubt.” The second one stared at me thoughtfully. “Is it alive?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” the first one answered.

I turned my back on them, whereupon they both laughed. I hate self-panickers.

4.        The Promised Land

Mr. Saunders was ahead of us in line. He was crabbing about the weather. He said it was an outrage to expose people the way we had been. He had been with us on the working party, but he had not worked much.

The man at the desk shrugged. “The Colonial Commission set your arrival date; we had nothing to say about it. You can’t expect us to postpone winter to suit your convenience.”

“Somebody’s going to hear about this!”

“By all means.” The man at the desk handed him a form, “Next, please!” He looked at Dad and said, “What may I do for you, citizen?” Dad explained quietly that he wanted to have his family with him. The man shook his head. “Sorry. Next case, please.”

Dad didn’t give up his place. “You can’t separate a man and wife. We aren’t slaves, nor criminals, nor animals. The Immigration Service surely has some responsibilities toward us.”

The man looked bored. “This is the largest shipload we’ve ever had to handle. We’ve made the best arrangements we could. This is a frontier town, not the Astor.”

“All I’m asking for is a minimum family space, as described in the Commission’s literature about Ganymede.” “Citizen, those descriptions are written back on Earth. Be patient and you will be taken care of.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow. A few days–or a few weeks.”

Dad exploded. “Weeks, indeed! Confound it, I’ll build an igloo out on the field before I’ll put up with this.”

“That’s your privilege.” The man handed Dad a sheet of paper. “If you wish to lodge a complaint, write it out on this.”

Dad took it and I glanced at it. It was a printed form–and it was addressed to the Colonial Commission back on Earth! The man went on, “Turn it in to me any time this phase and it will be ultramicro-filmed in time to go back with the mail in the Mayflower.

Dad looked at it, snorted, crumpled it up, and stomped away. Molly followed him and said, “George! Georgel Don’t be upset. We’ll live through it.”

Dad grinned sheepishly. “Sure we will, honey. It’s the beauty of the system that gets me. Refer all complaints to the head office–half a billion miles away!”

The next day George’s reflexes were making his nose run. Peggy was worse and Molly was worried about her and Dad was desperate. He went off somewhere to raise a stink about the way things were being handled.

Frankly, I didn’t have it too bad. Sleeping in a dormitory is no hardship to me; I could sleep through the crack of doom. And the food was everything they had promised.

Listen to this: For breakfast we had corn cakes with syrup and real butter, little sausages, real ham, strawberries with cream so thick I didn’t know what it was, tea, all the milk you could drink, tomato juice, honey-dew melon, eggs–as many eggs as you wanted.

There was an open sugar bowl, too, but the salt shaker had a little sign on it; DON’T WASTE THE SALT.

There wasn’t any coffee, which I wouldn’t have noticed if George had not asked for it. There were other things missing, too, although I certainly didn’t notice it at the time. No tree fruits, for example–no apples, no pears, no oranges. But who cares when you can get strawberries and watermelon and pineapples and such? There were no tree nuts, too, but there were peanuts to burn.

Anything made out of wheat flour was a luxury, but you don’t miss it at first.

Lunch was choice of corn chowder or jellied consomme, cheese souffle, fried chicken, corned beef and cabbage, hominy grits with syrup, egg plant au gratin, little pearl onions scalloped with cucumbers, baked stuffed tomatoes, sweet potato surprise, German-fried Irish potatoes, tossed endive, coleslaw with sour cream, pineapple and cottage cheese with lettuce.

Then there was peppermint ice cream, angel berry pie, frozen egg nog, raspberry ice, and three kinds of pudding–but I didn’t do too well on the desserts. I had tried to try everything, taking a little of this and a dab of that, and by the time desserts came along I was short on space. I guess I ate too much.

The cooking wasn’t fancy, about like Scout camp, but the food was so good you couldn’t ruin it. The service reminded me of camp, too–queueing up for servings, no table cloths, no napkins. And the dishes had to be washed; you couldn’t throw them away or burn them–they were imported from Earth and worth their weight in uranium.

The first day they took the first fifty kids in the chow line and the last fifty lads to leave the mess hall and made them wash dishes. The next day they changed pace on us and took the middle group. I got stuck both times.

The first supper was mushroom soup, baked ham, roast turkey, hot corn bread with butter, jellied cold meats, creamed asparagus, mashed potatoes and giblet gravy, spinach with hard boiled egg and grated cheese, corn pudding, creamed peas and carrots, smothered lettuce and three kinds of salad. Then there was frozen custard and raisin pudding with hard sauce and Malaga and Thompson grapes and more strawberries with powdered sugar.

Besides that you could drop around to the kitchen and get a snack any time you felt like it.

I didn’t go outside much the first three days. It snowed and although we were in Sun phase when we got there it was so murky that you couldn’t see the Sun, much less Jupiter. Besides, we were in eclipse part of the time. It was as cold as Billy-be-switched and we still didn’t have any cold weather clothes.

I was sent along with the commissary tractor once to get supplies over in town. Not that I saw much of the town–and not that Leda is much of a town, anyhow, to a person who has lived in Diego Borough–but I did see the hydroponics farms.

There were three of them, big multiple sheds, named for what they grew in them, “Oahu,” “Imperial Valley,” and “Iowa.” Nothing special about them, just the usual sort of soiless gardening. I didn’t hang around because the flicker lighting they use to force the plants makes my eyes burn.

But I was interested in the tropical plants they grew in “Oahu”–I had never seen a lot of them before. I noticed that most of the plants were marked “M-G” while a few were tagged “N. T.” I asked one of the gardeners; he said that “M-G” meant “mutation-Ganymede” and the other meant “normal terrestrial.”

I found out later that almost everything grown on Ganymede was a special mutation adapted to Ganymede conditions.

Beyond there was another of the big multiple sheds named “Texas”; it had real cows in it and was very interesting. Did you know a cow moves its lower jaw from side to side? And no matter what you’ve heard, there is not one teat that is especially for cream.

I hated to leave, but “Texas” shed smelled too much like a space ship. It was only a short dash through the snow to the Exchange where all of Leda’s retail buying and selling takes place–big and little shops all under one roof.

I looked around, thinking I might take a present back to Peggy, seeing that she was sick. I got the shock of my life. The prices!

If I had had to buy in the Exchange the measly fifty-eight pounds of stuff they had let me bring with me, it would have cost–I’m telling the truth!– several thousand credits. Everything that was imported from Earth cost that kind of money. A tube of beard cream was two hundred and eighty credits.

There were items for sale made on Ganymede, hand work mostly, and they were expensive, too, though not nearly as expensive as the stuff brought up from Earth.

I crept out of that place in a hurry. As nearly as I could figure the only thing cheap on Ganymede was food.

The driver of the commissary tractor wanted to know where I had been when there was loading to do? “I should have left you behind to walk back,” he groused. I didn’t have a good answer so I didn’t say anything.

They shut off winter soon after that. The heat trap was turned on full force, the skies cleared and it was lovely. The first view I got of the Ganymede sky was a little after dawn next Sun phase. The heat trap made the sky a pale green but Jupiter shone right through it, ruddy orange, and big. Big and beautiful–I’ve never gotten tired of looking at Jupiter!

A harvest moon looks big, doesn’t it? Well, Jupiter from Ganymede is sixteen or seventeen times as wide as the Moon looks and it covers better than two hundred and fifty times as much sky. It hangs there in the sky, never rising, never setting, and you wonder what holds it up.

I saw it first in half-moon phase and I didn’t see how it could be any more beautiful than it was. But the Sun crept across the sky and a day later Jupiter was a crescent and better than ever. At the middle of Sun phase we went into eclipse, of course, and Jupiter was a great red, glowing ring in the sky, brightest where the Sun had just passed behind it.

But the best of all is during dark phase.

Maybe I ought to explain how the phases work; I know I didn’t understand it until I came to Ganymede. Ganymede is such a small planet and so close to its primary that it is tide-locked, just the way the Moon is; it keeps one face always toward Jupiter and therefore Jupiter does not move in the sky. The sun moves, the other Jovian moons move, the stars move–but not good old Jove; it just hangs there.

Ganymede takes just over an Earth week to revolve around Jupiter, so we have three and a half days of sunlight and then three and a half days of darkness. By Ganymede time the period of rotation is exactly one week; twenty-four Ganymede hours is one seventh of the period. This arrangement makes a Ganymede minute about a standard second longer than an Earth minute, but who cares? Except scientists, of course, and they have clocks that keep both sorts of time.

So here is the way a week goes on Ganymede: the Sun rises at Sunday midnight every week; when you get up Monday morning it’s a little above the eastern horizon and Jupiter is in half-moon phase.

The Sun keeps climbing higher and about suppertime on Tuesday it slides behind Jupiter and Ganymede is in eclipse; eclipse can last an hour or so up to a maximum of about three hours and a half. The stars come out and Jupiter shows that beautiful red ring effect because of its thick atmosphere. Then it’s light again by bedtime Tuesday.

At noon on Thursday the Sun goes down and we start the dark phase; that’s best of all. Jupiter’s colors really show and the other moons are easier to see. They can be almost anywhere and in almost any combination.

Jupiter and its satellites is sort of a miniature solar system; from Ganymede you have a front seat for the show. There is always something new in the sky. Besides the eleven “historical” satellites ranging in size from Ganymede down to Jay-ten or Nicholson-Alpha, which is a ball of rock and ice only fifteen miles thick, there are maybe a dozen more a few miles or less in diameter but big enough to be called moons and heaven knows how many smaller than that.

Sometimes these little ones come close enough to Ganymede to show discs; they mostly have very eccentric orbits. Any time there will be several

that are conspicuous lights in the sky, like the planets are from Earth.

Io, and Europa, and Callisto are always discs. When Europa passes between Jupiter and Ganymede it is as big in the sky as the Moon is from Earth. It actually is as big as the Moon and at that time it is only about a quarter of a million miles away.

Then it swings around to the far side and is very much smaller–more than a million miles away and less than a quarter as wide. Io goes through the same sorts of changes, but it never gets as big.

When Io and Europa pass between Ganymede and Jupiter you can see them move with your naked eye, chasing their shadows or running ahead of them, depending on the phase. Io and Europa, being inside Ganymede’s orbit, never get very far away from Jupiter, Io sticks within a couple of diameters of the big boy; Europa can get about sixty degrees away from it. Callisto is further out than Ganymede and goes all around the sky.

It’s a show you never get tired of. Earth’s sky is dull.

By six o’clock Saturday morning Jupiter would be in full phase and it was worthwhile to get up to see it. Not only was it the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen, but there was always the reverse eclipse, too, and you could see Ganymede’s shadow, a little round black dot, crawling across old Jupiter’s face. It gave you an idea of just how colossally big Jupiter was– there was the shadow of your whole planet on it and it wasn’t anything more than a big freckle.

Jupiter is ninety thousand miles across the equator, eighty-four thousand from pole to pole. Ganymede is only a little better than three thousand.

For the next couple of days after full phase Jupiter would wane and at Sunday midnight it would be in half phase again, the Sun would rise and a new light phase would start. One thing I expected but didn’t find was dim sunlight. Jupiter is a long way out; it gets only one twenty-seventh the sunlight that Earth does. I expected that we would always be in a sort of twilight.

It didn’t work out that way. It seemed to me that the sunlight was just as bright as on Earth.

George says that this is an optical illusion and that it has to do with the way the human eye works, because the iris of the eye simply shuts out light it doesn’t need. Bright desert sunlight back on Earth is maybe ten thousand foot-candles; the same thing on Ganymede is only four hundred foot- candles. But really good bright artificial light is only twentyfive foot candles and a “well-lighted” room is seldom that bright.

If you’ve got only a two-gallon bucket does it make any difference whether you fill it from the ocean or from a small pond? Sunlight on Ganymede was still more than the eye could accept, so it looked just as bright as sunlight on Earth.

I did notice, however, that it was almost impossible to get a sunburn.

5.        “Share Croppers”

George got us a place to live when we had been there about a week, which was a lot better than most of the other immigrants did, but it didn’t suit him and it didn’t suit Molly and it didn’t really suit me.

The trouble was he had to take a job as a staff engineer with the colonial government to get quarters for us–and that meant he would be too tied down to prove a piece of land for homestead. But it did carry private family quarters with it, if you could call two rooms twelve feet square a home.

It was like this: the colony was made up of homesteaders and townies. The townies worked for the government and lived in government-owned buildings –except for a very few who were in private trade.

The townies included the Colonial Commission representative, Captain Hattie the pilot, the hydroponics engineers, the hospital staff, the engineers who ran the power plant and the heat trap, the staff of the local office of Project Jove, and everybody else who worked at anything but land farming.

But most of the colonials were homesteaders and that’s what George had meant us to be. Like most everybody, we had come out there on the promise of free land and a chance to raise our own food.

There was free land, all right, a whole planet of it. Putting up a house and proving a farm was another matter.

Here is the way it was supposed to work: A colonist comes out from Earth with his family and lands at Leda. The Colonial Commission gives him an apartment in town on arrival, helps him pick out a piece of land to improve and helps him get a house up on it. The Commission will feed him and his family for one Earth year–that is, two Ganymede years–while he gets a couple of acres under cultivation.

Then he has ten G-years in which to pay back the Commission by processing at least twenty acres for the Commission– and he is allowed to process as much land for himself as for the Commission during the time he is paying what he owes. At the end of five Earth years he owns a tidy little farm, free and clear. After that, he can spread out and acquire more land, get into trade, anything he likes. He has his toehold and has paid off his debt.

The Colonial Commission had a big expensive investment in having started the atmosphere project and made the planet fit to live on in the first place. The land processed by the colonists was its return on the investment; the day would come when the Colonial Commission would own thousands of acres of prime farmland on Ganymede which it could then sell Earthside to later settlers … if you wanted to emigrate from Earth you would have to pay for the privilege and pay high. People like us would not be able to afford it.

By that time, although Ganymede would be closed to free immigration, Callisto would have an atmosphere and pioneers could move in there and do it all over again. It was what the bankers call “Self-liquidating,” with the original investment coming from Earth.

But here is the way it actually did work out: when we landed there were only about thirty thousand people on Ganymede and they were geared to accept about five hundred immigrants an Earth year, which was about all the old-type ships could bring out. Remember, those power-pile ships took over five years for the round trip; it took a fleet of them to bring in that many a year.

Then the Star Rover II was renamed the Mayflower and turned over to the Colonial Commission, whereupon six thousand people were dumped on them all at once. We were about as welcome as unexpected overnight guests when there is sickness in the family.

The colonists had known, for a full Earth year, that we were coming, but they had not been able to protest. While Earth Sender can punch a message through to Ganymede anytime except when the Sun is smack in the way, at that time the best radio the colony could boast had to relay via Mars to reach Earth–and then only when Mars was at its closest approach to Jupiter– which it wasn’t.

I’ve got to admit that they did what they could for us. There was plenty to eat and they had managed to fix up places for us to sleep. The Immigrants’ Receiving Station had formerly been split up into family apartments; they had torn out the partitions and used the partitions to build bunks for the big dormitories we were stacked in. They had moved their town hall and made it over into a mess hall and kitchen for us. We were in out of the weather and well fed, even if we were about as crowded as we had been in the Mayflower.

You may ask why, with a year to get ready, they had not built new buildings for us? Well, we asked the same thing, only we weren’t asking, we were demanding, and we were sore about it!

They hadn’t built new buildings because they could not. Before the Earthmen moved in, Ganymede was bare rock and ice. Sure, everybody knows that–but does everybody know what that means? I’m sure I didn’t.

No lumber. No sheet metal. No insulation. No wires, No glass. No pipe. The settlers in North America built log cabins–no logs.

The big hydroponics sheds, the Receiving Station and a few other public buildings had been built with materials lifted a half a billion miles from Earth. The rest of Leda and every homesteader’s farm house had been built the hard way, from country rock. They had done their best for us, with what they had.

Only we didn’t appreciate it.

Of course we should not have complained. After all, as George pointed out, the first California settlers starved, nobody knows what happened to the Roanoke Colony, and the first two expeditions to Venus died to the last man. We were safe.

Anyhow, even if we had to put up with barracks for a while, there was all that free land, waiting for us.

On close inspection, it looked as if it would have to wait quite a while. That was why George had given in and taken a staff engineering job. The closest land to town open to homesteading was nine miles away. To find enough land for six thousand people meant that most of them would have to go about eighteen to twenty miles away.

“What’s twenty miles? A few minutes by tube, an up-and-down hop for a copter–brother, have you ever walked twenty miles? And then walked back again?

It wasn’t impossible to settle six thousand people that far from town; it was just difficult–and slow. The pioneer explorer used to set out with his gun

and an axe; the settler followed by hitching his oxen to a wagonload of furniture and farm tools. Twenty miles meant nothing to them.

They weren’t on Ganymede.

The colony had two tractor trucks; another had come in the Mayflower. That’s all the transportation there was on the whole planet–not just to settle six thousand people but for the daily needs of thirty thousand people who were there ahead of us.

They explained it all to us at a big meeting of heads of families. I wasn’t supposed to be there but it was held outdoors and there was nothing to stop me. The chief ecologist and the chief engineer of the planet were there and the chairman of the colony council presided. Here was the proposition:

What Ganymede really needed was not more farmers, but manufacturing. They needed prospectors and mines and mills and machine shops. They needed all the things you can make out of metal and which they simply could not afford to import from Earth. That’s what they wanted us to work on and they would feed any of us who accepted, not just for a year, but indefinitely.

As for any who insisted on homesteading–well, the land was there; help ourselves. There wasn’t enough processing machinery to go around, so it might be two or three years before any particular immigrant got a chance to process his first acre of ground.

Somebody stood up near the front of the crowd and yelled, “We’ve been swindled!”

It took Mr. Tolley, the chairman, quite a while to calm them down. When they let him talk again, he said, “Maybe you have been swindled, maybe you haven’t. That’s a matter of opinion. I’m quite willing to concede that conditions here are not the way they were represented to you when you left Earth. In fact–“

Somebody yelled. “That’s mighty nice of you!” only the tone was sarcastic.

Mr. Tolley looked vexed. “You folks can either keep order, or I’ll adjourn this meeting.”

They shut up again and he went on. Most of the present homesteaders had processed more land than they could cultivate. They could use hired hands to raise more crops. There was a job waiting for every man, a job that would keep him busy and teach him Ganymede farming–and feed his wife and family-while he was waiting his turn to homestead.

You could feel a chill rolling over the crowd when the meaning of Mr. Tolley’s words sunk in. They felt the way Jacob did when he had labored seven years and then was told he would have to labor another seven years to get the girl he really wanted. I felt it myself, even though George had already decided on the staff job.

A man spoke up. “Mr. Chairman!” “Yes? Your name, please.”

“Name of Saunders. I don’t know how the rest of them feel, but I’m a farmer. Always have been. But I said ‘farmer,’ not sharecropper. I didn’t come here to hire out to no boss. You can take your job and do what you see fit with it. I stand on my rights!”

There was scattered applause and the crowd began to perk up. Mr. Tolley looked at him and said, “That’s your privilege, Mr. Saunders.”

“Huh? Well, I’m glad you feel that way, Mr. Chairman. Now let’s cut out the nonsense. I want to know two things: what piece of land am I going to get and when do I lay hands on some machinery to start putting it into condition?”

Mr. Tolley said, “You can consult the land office about your first question. As to the second, you heard the chief engineer say that he estimates the average wait for processing machinery will be around twenty-one months.”

“That’s too long.”

“So it is, Mr. Saunders.”

“Well, what do you propose to do about it?” Mr. Tolley shrugged and spread his hands. “I’m not a magician. We’ve asked the Colonial Commission by urgent message going back on the Mayflower not to send us any more colonists on the next trip, but to send us machinery. If they agree, there may be some relief from the situation by next winter. But you have seen–all of you have already seen–that the Colonial Commission makes

decisions without consulting us. The first trip of the Mayflower should have been all cargo; you folks should have waited.”

Saunders thought about it. “Next winter, eh? That’s five months away. I guess I can wait–I’m a reasonable man. But no sharecropping; that’s outl” “I didn’t say you could start homesteading in five months, Mr. Saunders. It may be twenty-one months or longer.”

“No, indeedy!”

“Suit yourself. But you are confronted with a fact, not a theory. If you do have to wait and you won’t work for another farmer, how do you propose to feed yourself and your family in the mean time?”

Mr. Saunders looked around and grinned, “Why, in that case, Mr. Chairman, I guess the government will just have to feed us until the government can come through on its end of the deal. I know my rights.”

Mr. Tolley looked at him as if he had just bitten into an apple and found Saunders inside. “We won’t let your children starve,” he said slowly, “but as for you, you can go chew rocks. If you won’t work, you won’t eat.”

Saunders tried to bluster. “You can’t get away with it! I’ll sue the government and I’ll sue you as the responsible government official You can’t–“

“Shut up!” Mr. Tolley went on more quietly, speaking to all of us. “We might as well get this point straight. You people have been enticed into coming out here by rosy promises and you are understandably disappointed. But your contract is with the Colonial Commission back on Earth.

But you have no contract with the common council of Ganymede, of which I am chairman, and the citizens of Ganymede owe you nothing. We are trying to take care of you out of common decency.

“If you don’t like what we offer you, don’t start throwing your weight around with me; I won’t stand for it. Take it up with the representative of the Immigration Service. That’s what he is here for. Meeting’s adjourned!”

But the immigration representative wasn’t there; he had stayed away from the meeting.

6.        Bees and Zeroes

We had been swindled all right. It was equally clear that there was no help for it. Some of the immigrants did see the Colonial Commission representative, but they got no comfort out of him. He had resigned, he said, fed up with trying to carry out impossible instructions five hundred million miles from the home office. He was going home as soon as his relief arrived.

That set them off again; if he could go home so could they. The Mayflower was still in orbit over us, taking on cargo. A lot of people demanded to go back in her.

Captain Harkness said no, he had no authority to let them deadhead half way across the system. So they landed back on the Commission representative, squawking louder than ever.

Mr. Tolley and the council finally settled it. Ganymede wanted no soreheads, no weak sisters. If the Commission refused to ship back those who claimed they were gypped and didn’t want to stay, then the next shipload wouldn’t even be allowed to land. The representative gave in and wrote Captain Harkness out a warrant for their passage.

We held a family pow-wow over the matter, in Peggy’s room in the hospital–it had to be there because the doctors were keeping her in a room pressurized to Earth normal

Did we stay, or did we go back? Dad was stuck in a rut. Back Earthside he at least had been working for himself; here he was just an employee. If he quit his job and elected to homestead, it meant working two or three G-years as a field hand before we could expect to start homesteading.

But the real rub was Peggy. In spite of having passed her physical examination Earthside she hadn’t adjusted to Ganymede’s low pressure. “We might as well face it,” George said to Molly. “We’ve got to get Peg back to the conditions she’s used to.”

Molly looked at him; his face was as long as my arm. “George, you don’t want to go back, do you?”

“That’s not the point, Molly. The welfare of the kids comes first.” He turned to me and added, “You’re not bound by this, Bill. You are big enough to make up your own mind. If you want to stay, I am sure it can be arranged.”

I didn’t answer right away. I had come into the family get-together pretty disgusted myself, not only because of the run-around we had gotten, but also because of a run-in I had had with a couple of the Colonial kids. But you know what it was that swung me around? That pressurized room. I had gotten used to low pressure and I liked it. Peggy’s room, pressurized to Earth normal, felt like swimming in warm soup. I could hardly breath. “I don’t think I want to go back,” I said.

Peggy had been sitting up in bed, following the talk with big eyes, like a little lemur. Now she said, “I don’t want to go back, eitherl”

Molly patted her hand and did not answer her, “George,” she said, “I’ve given this a lot of thought You don’t want to go back, I know. Neither does Bill But we don’t all have to go back. We can–“

“That’s out, Molly,” Dad answered firmly. “I didn’t marry you to split up. If you have to go back, I go back.”

“I didn’t mean that. Peggy can go back with the O’Farrells and my sister will meet her and take care of her at the other end. She wanted me to leave Peggy with her when she found I was determined to go. It will work out all right.” She didn’t look at Peggy as she said it.

“But, Molly!” Dad said.

“No George,” she answered, “I’ve thought this all out. My first duty is to you. It’s not as if Peggy wouldn’t be well taken care of; Phoebe will be a mother to her and–“

By now Peggy had caught her breath. “I don’t want to go live with Aunt Phoebe!” she yelled and started to bawl. George said, “It won’t work, Molly.”

Molly said, “George, not five minutes ago you were talking about leaving Bill behind, on his own.” “But Bill is practically a man!”

“He’s not too old to be lonesome. And I’m not talking about leaving Peggy alone; Phoebe will give her loving care. No, George, if the womenfolk ran home at the first sign of trouble there never would be any pioneers. Peggy has to go back, but I stay.”

Peggy stopped her blubbering long enough to say, “I wont go back! I’m a pioneer, too–ain’t I, Bill?” I said, “Sure kid, sure!” and went over and patted her hand. She grabbed onto mine.

I don’t know what made me say what I did then. Goodness knows the brat had never been anything but a headache, with her endless questions and her insistence that she be allowed to do anything I did. But I heard myself saying, “Don’t worry, Peggy. If you go. back, I’ll go with you.”

Dad looked at me sharply, then turned to Peggy. “Bill spoke hastily, Baby. You mustn’t hold him to that.” Peggy said, “You did so mean it, didn’t you, Bill?”

I was regretting it already. But I said, “Sure, Peggy.”

Peggy turned back to Dad. “See? But it doesn’t matter; we’re not going back, not any of us. Please Daddy –I’ll get well, I promise you I will. I’m getting better every day.”

Sure, she was–in a pressurized room. I sat there, sweating, and wishing I had kept my big mouth shut. Molly said, “It defeats me, George. What do you think?”

“Mmmm–“

“Well?”

“Uh, I was thinking we could pressurize one room in our quarters. I could rig some sort of an impeller in the machine shop.” Peggy was suddenly all over her tears. “You mean I can get out of the hospital?”

“That’s the idea, Sugar, if Daddy can work it.”

Molly looked dubious. “That’s no answer to our problems, George.”

“Maybe not.” Dad stood up and squared his shoulders. “But I have decided one thing; we all go, or we’ll all stay. The Lermers stand together. That’s settled.”

Homesteading wasn’t the only thing we had been mistaken about. There was Scouting on Ganymede even if the news hadn’t gotten back to Earth. There hadn’t been any meetings of the Mayflower troops after we landed; everybody had been just too busy to think about it. Organized Scouting is fun, but sometimes there just isn’t time for it.

There hadn’t been any meetings of the Leda Troop, either. They used to meet in their town hall; now we had their town hall as a mess hall, leaving them out in the cold. I guess that didn’t tend to make them fee! chummy towards us.

I ran into this boy over in the Exchange. Just as he was passing me I noticed a little embroidered patch on his chest. It was a homemade job and not very good, but I spotted it. “Hey!” I said.

He stopped. ” ‘Hey’ yourself! Were you yelling at me?” “Uh, yes. You’re a Scout, aren’t you?”

“Certainly.”

“So am I. My name’s Bill Lermer. Shake.” I slipped him the Scout grip.

He returned it. “Mine’s Sergei Roskov.” He looked me over. “You’re one of the Johnny-Come-Latelies, aren’t you?” “I came over in the MayflowerI admitted.

“That’s what I meant. No offense– I was born Earth-side, myself. So you used to be a Scout, back home. That’s good. Come around to meeting and

we’ll sign you up again.”

“I’m still a Scout,” I objected.

“Huh? Oh, I get you–‘Once a Scout, always a Scout.’ Well, come around and we’ll make it official.”

That was a very good time for me to keep my lip zipped. But not me–oh, no! When comes the Tromp of Doom, I’ll still be talking instead of listening. I said, “It’s as official as it can be. I’m senior patrol leader, Baden-Powell Troop.”

“Huh? You’re kind of far away from your troop, aren’t you?”

So I told him all about it. He listened until I was through, then said quietly, “And you laddie bucks had the nerve to call yourselves the ‘Boy Scouts of Ganymede.’ Anything else you would like to grab? You already have our meeting hall; maybe you’d like to sleep in our beds?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He seemed to be thinking it over. “Just a friendly warning, Bill–” “Huh?”

“There is only one senior patrol leader around here-and you’re looking right at him. Don’t make any mistake about it. But come on around to

meeting anyhow,” he added. “You’ll be welcome. We’re always glad to sign up a new tenderfoot.”

I went back to the Receiving Station and looked up Hank Jones and told him all about it. He looked at me admiringly. “William, old son,” he said, “I’ve got to hand it to you. It takes real talent to louse things up that thoroughly. It’s not easy.”

“You think I’ve messed things up?”

“I hope not. Well, let’s look up Doc Archibald and see what can be done.”

Our troop master was holding clinic; we waited until the patients were out of the way, then went in. He said, “Are you two sick, or just looking for a ticket to gold brick?”

“Doc,” I said, “we were wrong. There are so Scouts on Ganymede.” “So I know,” he answered.

I said, “Huh?”

“Mr. Ginsberg and Mr. Bruhn and I have been negotiating with the senior Scout officials here to determine just how our troops will be taken into the parent organization. It’s a bit complicated as there are actually more Mayflower Scouts than there are in the local troop. But they have jurisdiction, of course.”

I said, “Oh.”

“Well have a joint meeting in a few days, after we get the rules ironed out.”

I thought it over and decided I had better tell him what had happened, so I did.

He listened, not saying anything. Finally I said, “Hank seems to think I’ve messed things up. What do you think, Doc?” “Mmmm–” he said. “Well, I hope he’s wrong. But I think I may say you haven’t helped the situation any.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Don’t look so tragic about it,” he urged. “You’ll get well. Now run along and forget it. It may not make any difference.”

But it did make a difference. Doc and the others had been pitching for our troops to be recognized as properly constituted troops, with all ratings acknowledged. But after Sergei spread the word around, the regular Ganymede Scouts all squawked that we were nothing but a bunch of tenderfeet, no matter what we had been back on Earth. The place for us to start was the bottom; if we were any good, we could prove it– by tests.

It was compromised; George says things like that are always compromised. Ratings were confirmed on probation, with one G-year to make up any tests that were different. Our troops were kept intact But there was one major change:

All patrol leaders had to be from the original Ganymede Scouts; they were transferred from the Leda troop. I had to admit the justice of it. How could I be a patrol leader on Ganymede when I was still so green that I didn’t know northwest from next week? But it didn’t set well with the other fellows who had been patrol leaders when the word got around that I was responsible for the flies in the soup.

Hank talked it over with me. “Billy my boy,” he told me, “I suppose you realize that you are about as popular as ants at a picnic?” “Who cares?” I objected.

“You care. Now is the time for all good men to perform an auto da fe”

“What in great blazing moons is an auto da fe?”

“In this case it means for you to transfer to the Leda Troop.”

“Have you gone crazy? You know what those guys think of us, especially me. I’d be lucky to get away with my life.”

“Which just goes to show how little you know about human nature. Sure, it would be a little rough for a while, but it’s the quickest way to gain back some respect.”

“Hank, you really are nuts. In that troop I really would be a tenderfoot–and how!”

“That’s just the point,” Hank went on quietly, “We’re all tenderfeet–only here in our own troop it doesn’t show. If we stay here, we’ll keep on being tenderfeet for a long time. But if we transfer, we’ll be with a bunch who really know their way around–and some of it will rub off on us.”

“Did you say ‘we’?”

“I said ‘we’.”

“I catch on. You want to transfer, so you worked tip this gag about how I ought to do so, so you would have company. A fine chum you are!”

He just grinned, completely unembarrassed. “Good old Bill! Hit him in the head eight or nine times and he can latch on to any idea. It won’t be so bad, Bill. In precisely four months and nine days we won’t be tenderfeet; we’ll be old timers.”

“Why the exact date?”

“Because that is the due date of the Mayflower on her next trip–as soon as they arrive theyll be the Johnny-Come-Latelies.” “Oh!”

Anyhow, we did it–and it was rough at first, especially on me … like the night they insisted that I tell them how to be a hero. Some twerp had gotten hold of the meteorite story. But the hazing wasn’t too bad and Sergei put a stop to it whenever he caught them at it. After a while they got tired of it.

Sergei was so confounded noble about the whole thing that I wanted to kick him.

The only two merit badges to amount to anything that stood in the way of my getting off probation and back up to my old rating of Eagle Scout were agronomy and planetary ecology, Ganymede style. They were both tough subjects but well worth studying. On Ganymede you had to know them to stay alive, so I dug in.

Ecology is the most involved subject I ever tackled. I told George so and he said possibly politics was worse–and on second thought maybe politics was just one aspect of ecology. The dictionary says ecology is “the science of the interrelations of living organisms and their environment.” That doesn’t get you much, does it? It’s like defining a hurricane as a movement of air.

The trouble with ecology is that you never know where to start because everything affects everything else. An unseasonal freeze in Texas can affect the price of breakfast in Alaska and that can affect the salmon catch and that can affect something else.

Or take the old history book case: the English colonies took England’s young bachelors and that meant old maids at home and old maids keep cats and the cats catch field mice and the field mice destroy the bumble bee nests and bumble bees are necessary to clover and cattle eat clover and cattle furnish the roast beef of old England to feed the soldiers to protect the colonies that the bachelors emigrated to, which caused the old maids.

Not very scientific, is it? I mean you have too many variables and you can’t put figures to them. George says that if you can’t take a measurement and write it down in figures you don’t know enough about a thing to call what you are doing with it “science” and, as for him, hell stick to straight engineering, thank you.

But there were some clear cut things about applied ecology on Ganymede which you could get your teeth into. Insects, for instance–on Ganymede, under no circumstances do you step on an insect. There were no insects on Ganymede when men first landed there. Any insects there now are there because the bionomics board planned it that way and the chief ecologist okayed the invasion. He wants that insect to stay right where it is, doing whatever it is that insects do; he wants it to wax and grow fat and raise lots of little insects.

Of course a Scout doesn’t go out of his way to step on anything but black widow spiders and the like, anyhow–but it really brings it up to the top of your mind to know that stepping on an insect carries with it a stiff fine if you are caught, as well as a very pointed lecture telling you that the colony can get along very nicely without you but the insects are necessary.

Or take earthworms. I knowthey are worth their weight in uranium because I was buying them before I was through. A farmer can’t get along without

earthworms.

Introducing insects to a planet isn’t as easy as it sounds. Noah had less trouble with his animals, two by two, because when the waters went away he still had a planet that was suited to his load. Ganymede isn’t Earth.

Take bees–we brought bees in the Mayflower but we didn’t turn them loose; they were all in the shed called “Oahu” and likely to stay there for a smart spell. Bees need clover, or a reasonable facsimile. Clover would grow on Ganymede but our real use for clover was to fix nitrogen in the soil and thereby refresh a worn out field. We weren’t planting clover yet because there wasn’t any nitrogen in the air to fix–or not much.

But I am ahead of my story. This takes us into the engineering side of ecology. Ganymede was bare rock and ice before we came along, cold as could be, and no atmosphere to speak of–just traces of ammonia and methane. So the first thing to do was to give it an atmosphere men could breathe.

The material was there–ice. Apply enough power, bust up the water molecule into hydrogen and oxygen. The hydrogen goes up–naturally–and the oxygen sits on the surface where you can breathe it. That went on for more than fifty years.

Any idea how much power it takes to give a planet the size of Ganymede three pressure-pounds of oxygen all over its surface?

Three pressure-pounds per square inch means nine mass pounds, because Ganymede has only one third the surface gravitation of Earth. That means you have to start with nine pounds of ice for every square inch of Ganymede–and that ice is cold to start with, better than two hundred degrees below zero Fahrenheit.

First you warm it to the freezing point, then you melt it, then you dissociate the water molecule into oxygen and hydrogen–not in the ordinary laboratory way by electrolysis, but by extreme heat in a mass converter. The result is three pressure pounds of oxygen and hydrogen mix for that square inch. It’s not an explosive mixture, because the hydrogen, being light, sits on top and the boundary layer is too near to being a vacuum to maintain burning.

But to carry out this breakdown takes power and plenty of it–65,000 BTUs for each square inch of surface, or for each nine pounds of ice, whichever way you like it. That adds up; Ganymede may be a small planet but it has 135,000,000,000,000,000 square inches of surface. Multiply that by 65,000 BTUs for each square inch, then convert British Thermal Units to ergs and you get:

92,500,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 ergs.

Ninety-two-and-a-half million billon quadrillion ergs! That figure is such a beauty that I wrote it down in my diary and showed it to George.

He wasn’t impressed. George said that all figures were the same size and nobody but a dimwit is impressed by strings of zeroes. He made me work out what the figure meant in terms of mass-energy, by the good old E = MC2 formula, since mass-energy converters were used to give Ganymede its atmosphere.

By Einstein’s law, one gram mass equals 9×1020 ergs, so that fancy long figure works out to be 1.03×1011 grams of energy, or 113,200 tons. It was ice, mostly, that they converted into energy, some of the same ice that was being turned into atmosphere–though probably some country rock crept in along with the ice. A mass converter will eat anything.

Let’s say it was all ice; that amounts to a cube of ice a hundred and sixty feet on an edge. That was a number I felt I could understand.

I showed my answer to George and he still was not impressed. He said I ought to be able to understand one figure just as easily as the other, that both meant the same thing, and both figures were the same size.

Don’t get the idea that Ganymede’s atmosphere was made from a cube of ice 160 feet on a side; that was just the mass which had to be converted to energy to turn the trick. The mass of ice which was changed to oxygen and hydrogen would, if converted back into ice, cover the entire planet more than twenty feet deep —like the ice cap that used to cover Greenland.

George says all that proves is that there was a lot of ice on Ganymede to start with and that if we hadn’t had mass converters we could never have colonized it. Sometimes I think engineers get so matter of fact that they miss a lot of the juice in life.

With three pressure-pounds of oxygen on Ganymede and the heat trap in place and the place warmed up so that blood wouldn’t freeze in your veins, colonists could move in and move around without wearing space suits and without living in pressure chambers.

The atmosphere project didn’t stop, however. In the first place, since Ganymede has a low escape speed, only 1.8 miles per second compared with

Earth’s 7 m/s, the new atmosphere would gradually bleed off to outer space, especially the hydrogen, and would be lost– in a million years or so. In

the second place, nitrogen was needed.

We don’t need nitrogen to breathe and ordinarily we don’t think much about it. But it takes nitrogen to make protein–muscle. Most plants take it out of the ground; some plants, like clover and alfalfa and beans, take it out of the air as well and put it back into the ground. Ganymede’s soil was rich in nitrogen; the original scanty atmosphere was partly ammonia–but the day would come when we would have to put the nitrogen back in that we were taking out. So the atmosphere project was now turned to making nitrogen.

This wasn’t as simple as breaking up water; it called for converting stable isotope oxygen-16 into stable isotope nitrogen-14, an energy consuming reaction probably impossible in nature–or so the book said–and long considered theoretically impossible.

I hadn’t had any nucleonics beyond high school physics, so I skipped the equations. The real point was, it could be done, in the proper sort of a mass-energy converter, and Ganymede would have nitrogen in her atmosphere by the time her fields were exhausted and had to be replenished.

Carbon dioxide was no problem; there was dry ice as well as water ice on Ganymede and it had evaporated into the atmosphere long before the first homesteader staked out a claim.

Not that you can start farming with oxygen, carbon dioxide, and a stretch of land. That land was dead. Dead as Christopher Columbus. Bare rock, sterile, no life of any sort–and there never had been any life in it. It’s a far piece from dead rock to rich, warm, black soil crawling with bacteria and earthworms, the sort of soil you have to have to make a crop.

It was the job of the homesteaders to make the soil.

See how involved it gets? Clover, bees, nitrogen, escape speed, power, plant-animal balance, gas laws, compound interest laws, meteorology–a mathematical ecologist has to think of everything and think of it ahead of time. Ecology is explosive; what seems like a minor and harmless invasion can change the whole balance. Everybody has heard of the English sparrow.

There was the Australian jack rabbit, too, that darn near ate a continent out of house and home. And the Caribbean mongoose that killed the chickens it was supposed to protect. And the African snail that almost ruined the Pacific west coast before they found a parasite to kill it.

You take a harmless, useful insect, plant, or animal to Ganymede and neglect to bring along its natural enemies and after a couple of seasons you’ll wish you had imported bubonic plague instead.

But that was the chief ecologist’s worry; a farmer’s job was engineering agronomy–making the soil and then growing things in it.

That meant taking whatever you came to–granite boulders melted out of the ice, frozen lava flows, pumice, sand, ancient hardrock–and busting it up into little pieces, grinding the top layers to sand, pulverizing the top few inches to flour, and finally infecting the topmost part with a bit of Mother Earth herself-then nursing what you had to keep it alive and make it spread. It wasn’t easy.

But it was interesting. I forgot all about my original notion of boning up on the subject just to pass a merit badge test. I asked around and found out where I could see the various stages going on and went out and had a look for myself. I spent most of one light phase just looking.

When I got back to town I found that George had been looking for me. “Where in blazes have you been?” he wanted to know. “Oh, just out and around,” I told him, “seeing how the ‘steaders do things.”

He wanted to know where I had slept and how I had managed to eat? “Bill, it’s all very well to study for your merit badges but that’s no reason to turn into a tramp,” he objected. “I guess I have neglected you lately–I’m sorry.” He stopped and thought for a moment, then went on, “I think you had better enter school here. It’s true they haven’t much for you, but it would be better than running around at loose ends.”

“George?”

“Yes, that’s probably the best-huh?”

“Have you completely given up the idea of home-steading?”

Dad looked worried. “That’s a hard question, Bill. I still want us to, but with Peggy sick–it’s difficult to say. But our name is still in the hat. I’ll have to make up my mind before the drawing.”

“Dad, I’ll prove it.” “Eh?”

“You keep your job and take care of Peggy and Molly. I’ll make us a farm.”

7.        Johnny Appleseed

The drawing of our division took place three weeks later; the next day George and I walked out to see what we had gotten. It was west of town out through Kneiper’s Ridge, new country to me; I had done my exploring east of town, over toward the power plant, where most of the proved land was located.

We passed a number of farms and some of them looked good, several acres in cultivation, green and lush, and many more acres already chewed level. It put me in mind of Illinois, but there was something missing. I finally figured out what it was–no trees.

Even without trees it was beautiful country. On the right, north of us, were the foothills of the Big Rock Candy Mountains. Snow-covered peaks thrust up beyond them, twenty or thirty miles away. On the left, curving in from the south and closer than it came to Leda, was Laguna Serenidad. We were a couple of hundred feet higher than the lake. It was a clear day and I tried to see the far shore, but I couldn’t be sure.

It was a mighty cheerful scene. Dad felt it, too. He strode along, whistling “Beulah Land” off key. I get my musical talent from Anne. He broke off and said, “Bill, I envy you.”

I said, “We’ll all be together yet, George. I’m the advance guard.” I thought a bit and said, “George, do you know what the first thing I raise is going to be-after I get some food crops in?”

“What?”

“I’m going to import some seed and raise you some tobacco.” “Oh, no, Son!”

“Why not?” I knew he was touched by it, because he called me ‘Son’. “I could do it, as well as not.”

“It’s a kind thought, but we’ll have to stick to the main chance. By the time we can afford that, I will have forgotten how to light a pipe. Honest, I don’t miss it.”

We slogged along a bit further, not saying anything but feeling close together and good. Presently the road played out. Dad stopped and took his sketch map out of his pouch. “This must be about it.”

The sketch showed where the road stopped, with just a dotted line to show where it would be, some day. Our farm was outlined on it, with the nearest comer about half a mile further along where the road ought to be and wasn’t. By the map, the edge of our property–or what would be ours if we proved it–ran along the north side of the road about a quarter of a mile and from there back toward the foothills. It was marked “Plot 117-H-2” and had the chief engineer’s stamp on it.

Dad was staring at where the road ended. There was a lava flow right across it, high as my head and rough as a hard winter in Maine. “Bill,” he said, “How good an Indian are you?”

“Fair, I guess.”

“We’ll have to try to pace it off and hold a straight line due west.”

But it was almost impossible to do it. We struggled and slipped on the lava and made detours. Lava looks soft and it isn’t. Dad slipped and skinned his shin and I discovered that I had lost track of how many paces we had come. But presently we were across the flow and in a boulder field. It was loose rubble, from pieces the size of a house down to stuff no bigger than your fist–stuff dropped by the ice when it melted and formed Laguna

Serenidad.

George says that Ganymede must have had a boisterous youth, covered with steam and volcanoes.

The boulder field was somewhat easier going but it was even harder to hold a straight line. After a bit Dad stopped. “Bill,” he said, “do you know where we are?”

“No,” I admitted, “but we aren’t really lost. If we head back east we are bound to come to proved ground.” “Perhaps we had better.”

“Wait a minute.” There was a particularly big boulder ahead of us. I picked a way and managed to scramble to the top with nothing worse than a cut on my hand. I stood up. “I can see the road,” I told Dad. “We’re north of where we ought to be. And I think maybe we’ve come too far.” I marked a spot with my eye and came down.

We worked south the amount I thought was right and then headed east again. After a bit I said, “I guess we missed it, George. I’m not much of an In- He said, “So? What’s this?” He was a little ahead of me and had stopped.

It was a cairn with a flat rock on top. Painted on it was: “117-H-2, SE corner.”

We had been on our farm for the past half hour; the big boulder I had climbed up on was on it.

We sat down on a fairly flat rock and looked around. Neither of us said anything for a while; we were both thinking the same thing: if this was a farm, I was my own great uncle.

After a bit Dad muttered something. I said, “What did you say?”

“Golgotha,” he said out loud. “Golgotha, the place of skulls.” He was staring straight ahead.

I looked where he was looking; there was a boulder sitting on top of another and the way the sun caught it, it did look like a skull. It leered at us.

It was so darn quiet you could hear your hair grow. The place was depressing me. I would have given anything to hear something or see something move. Anything–just a lizard darting out from behind a rock, and I could have kissed it.

But there were no lizards here and never had been.

Presently Dad said, “Bill, are you sure you want to tackle this?” “Sure I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to, you know. If you want to go back to Earth and go to M.I.T., I could arrange it for the next trip.”

Maybe he was thinking that if I went back, I could take Peggy with, me and she would be willing to go. Maybe I should have said something about it. But didn’t; I said, “Are you going back?”

“No.”

“Neither am I.” At the moment is was mostly stubbornness. I had to admit that our “farm” wasn’t flowing with milk and honey; in fact it looked grim. Nobody but a crazy hermit would want to settle down in such a spot.

“Think it over, Bill.” “I’ve thought it over.”

We sat there a while longer, not saying anything, just thinking long thoughts. Suddenly we were almost startled out of our boots by somebody

yodelling at us. A moment before I had been wishing to hear just anything, but when it came it was like unexpectedly encountering a clammy hand in

the dark.

We both jumped and Dad said, “What in the–?” I looked around. There was a large man coming toward us. In spite of his size he skipped through the rocks like a mountain goat, almost floating in the low gravity. As he got closer I knew I had seen him before; he was on the Court of Honor, a Mr. Schultz.

Dad waved to him and pretty soon he reached us. He stood half a head taller than Dad and would have made the pair of us, he was so big. His chest was as thick as my shoulders were broad and his belly was thicker than that. He had bushy, curly red hair and his beard spread out over his chest like a tangle of copper springs. “Greetings, citizens,” he boomed at us, “my name is Johann Schultz.”

Dad introduced us and he shook hands and I almost lost mine in his. He fixed his eyes on me and said, “I’ve seen you before, Bill.” I said I guessed he had, at Scout meetings. He nodded and added, “A patrol leader, no?”

I admitted that I used to be. He said, “And soon again,” as if the matter were all settled. He turned to Dad. “One of the kinder saw you going past on the road, so Mama sent me to find you and bring you back to the house for tea and some of her good coffee cake.”

Dad said that was very kind but that we didn’t want to impose. Mr. Schultz didn’t seem to hear him. Dad explained what we were there for and showed him the map and pointed out the cairn. Mr. Schultz nodded four or five times and said, “So we are to be neighbors. Good, good!” He added to Dad “My neighbors call me John, or sometimes ‘Johnny’.” Dad said his name was George and from then on they were old friends.

Mr. Schultz stood by the cairn and sighted off to the west and then north to the mountains. Then he scrambled up on a big boulder where he could see better and looked again. We went up after him.

He pointed to a rise west of us. “You put your house so, not too far from the road, but not on it. And first you work this piece in here and next season you work back further toward the hills.” He looked at me and added. “No?”

I said I guessed so. He said, “It is good land, Bill. You will make a fine farm.” He reached down and picked up a piece of rock and rubbed it between his fingers. “Good land,” he repeated.

He laid it down carefully, straightened up, and said, “Mama will be waiting for us.”

Mama was waiting for us, all right, and her idea of a piece of coffee cake was roughly what they used to welcome back the Prodigal Son. But before we got into the house we had to stop and admire the Tree.

It was a real tree, an apple tree, growing in a fine bluegrass lawn out in front of his house. Furthermore it was bearing fruit on two of its limbs. I stopped and stared at it.

“A beauty, eh, Bill?” Mr. Schultz said, and I agreed. “Yes,” he went on, “it’s the most beautiful tree on Ganymede–you know why? Because it’s the

only tree on Ganymede.” He laughed uproariously and dug me in the ribs as if he had said something funny. My ribs were sore for a week.

He explained to Dad all the things he had had to do to persuade it to grow and how deep down he had had to go to prepare for it and how he had had to channel out to drain it. Dad asked why it was bearing only on one side. “Next year we pollenate the other side,” he answered, “and then we have Stark’s Delicious. And Rome Beauties. This year, Rhode Island Greenings and Winesaps.” He reached up and picked one. “A Winesap for you, Bill.”

I said thanks and bit into it. I don’t know when I’ve tasted anything so good.

We went inside and met Mama Schultz and four or five other Schultzes of assorted sizes, from a baby crawling around in the sand on the floor up to a girl as old as I was and nearly as big. Her name was Gretchen and her hair was red like her father’s, only it was straight and she wore it in long braids. The boys were mostly blond, including the ones I met later.

The house was mainly a big living room, with a big table down the middle of it. It was a solid slab of rock, maybe four feet wide and twelve or thirteen feet long, supported by three rock pillars. A good thing it was rock, the way Mama Schultz loaded it down.

There were rock slab benches down the long sides and two real chairs, one at each end, made out of oil drums and padded with stuffed leather cushions.

Mama Schultz wiped her face and hands on her apron and shook hands and insisted that Dad sit down in her chair; she wouldn’t be sitting down

much, she explained. Then she turned back to her cooking while Gretchen poured tea for us.

The end of the room was the kitchen and was centered around a big stone fireplace. It had all the earmarks of being a practical fireplace–and it was, as I found out later, though of course nothing had ever been burned in it. It was really just a ventilation hole. But Papa Schultz had wanted a fireplace so he had a fireplace. Mama Schultz’s oven was set in the side of it.

It was faced with what appeared to be Dutch tile, though I couldn’t believe it. I mean, who is going to import anything as useless as Ornamental tile all the way from Earth? Papa Schultz saw me looking at them and said, “My little girl Kathy paints good, huh?” One of the medium-sized girls blushed and giggled and left the room.

I had the apple down to a very skinny core and was wondering what to do with it in that spotless room when Papa Schultz stuck out his hand. “Give it to me, Bill.”

I did. He took out his knife and very gently separated out the seeds. One of the kids left the room and fetched him a tiny paper envelope in which he placed the seeds and then sealed it. He handed it to me. “There, Bill,” he said. “I have only one apple tree, but you have eight!”

I was sort of surprised, but I thanked him. He went on, “That place just this side of where you will build your house–if you will fill that gully from the bottom, layer by layer, building your soil as you go, with only a very little ‘pay dirt’ you will have a place that will support a whole row of trees. When your seedlings are big, we’ll bud from my tree.”

I put them very carefully in my pouch.

Some of the boys drifted in and washed up and soon we were all sitting around the table and digging into fried chicken and mashed potatoes and tomato preserves and things. Mama Schultz sat beside me and kept pressing food on me and insisting that I wasn’t eating enough to keep body and soul together which wasn’t true.

Afterwards I got acquainted with the kids while George and Papa Schultz talked. Four of the boys I knew; they were Scouts. The fifth boy, Johann Junior –they called him “Yo”–was older than I, almost twenty, and worked in town for the chief engineer. The others were Hugo and Peter, both Cubs, then Sam, and then Vic, who was an Explorer Scout, same as I was. The girls were the baby, Kathy and Anna, who seemed to be twins but weren’t, and Gretchen. They all talked at once.

Presently Dad called me over. “Bill, you know we don’t rate a chance at a rock crusher for several months.” “Yes,” I said, somewhat mystified.

“What are your plans in the meantime?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know exactly. Study up on what I’ll have to do.”

“Mmrn … Mr. Schultz has very kindly offered to take you on as a farm hand in the meantime. What do you think of the idea?”

8.        Land of My Own

Papa Schultz needed a field hand about as much as I need four ears, but that didn’t keep me from moving in. In that family everybody worked but the baby and you could count on it that she would be washing dishes as soon as she was up off the floor. Everybody worked all the time and seemed to enjoy it. When the kids weren’t working they were doing lessons and the boys were punished when they weren’t up on their lessons by being required to stay in from the fields.

Mama would listen to them recite while she cooked. Sometimes she listened to lessons in things I’m pretty sure she never had studied herself, but Papa Schultz checked up on them, too, so it didn’t matter.

Me, I learned about pigs. And cows. And chickens. And how you breed pay dirt to make more pay dirt. “Pay dirt” is the stuff that is actually imported from Earth, concentrated soil cultures with the bacteria and so forth in it you have to have to get a field alive.

There was an awful lot to learn. Take cows, now-half the people you meet can’t tell their left hands from their right so who would think that a cow

would care about such things? But they do, as I found out when I tried to milk one from the left.

Everything was stoop labor around the place, as primitive as a Chinese farm. The standard means of transportation was a wheelbarrow. I learned not to sneer at a wheelbarrow after I priced one at the Exchange.

The total lack of power machinery wasn’t through lack of power; the antenna on the farm house roof could pick up as much power as necessary–but there wasn’t any machinery. The only power machinery in the colony belonged to the whole colony and was the sort of thing the colony absolutely couldn’t get along without, like rock chewers and the equipment for the heat trap and the power plant itself.

George explained it this way: every load that was sent up from Earth was a compromise between people and cargo. The colonists were always yapping for more machinery and fewer immigrants; the Colonial Commission always insisted on sending as many people as possible and holding the imports down to a minimum.

“The Commission is right, of course,” he went on. “If we have people, we’ll get machinery–we’ll make it ourselves. By the time you have a family of your own, Bill, immigrants will arrive here bare-handed, no cargo at all, and we’ll be able to outfit a man with everything from plastic dishes for his cupboard to power cultivators for his fields.”

I said, “If they wait until I have a family, they’ll have a long wait. I figure a bachelor travels faster and further.”

Dad just grinned, as if he knew something I didn’t know and wouldn’t tell. I had walked into town to have dinner with him and Molly and the kid. I hadn’t seen much of them since I went to work for Papa Schultz. Molly was teaching school, Peggy couldn’t come out to the farm, of course, and Dad was very busy and very excited over a strike of aluminum oxides twenty miles east of town. He was in the project up to his ears and talking about having sheet aluminum on sale in another G-year.

As a matter or fact, cultivating a farm by stoop labor wasn’t too bad, not on Ganymede. Low gravity was a big help; you didn’t wear yourself out just dragging your own carcass around. I grossed a hundred and forty-two mass pounds, what with the way Mama Schultz stuffed me; that meant I weighed less than fifty pounds, field boots and all. A wheelbarrow was similarly light when loaded.

But the real advantage that made the work easy was something you might not guess. No weeds.

No weeds at all; we had very carefully not imported any. Once the land was built, making a crop was darn near a case of poking a seed into the ground and then stepping back quick before the stalk shot up and hit you in the eye.

Not that we didn’t work. There is plenty of work around a farm even with no weeds to worry about. And a light wheelbarrow load simply meant that we piled three times as much on. But we had fun, too; I never met a family that laughed so much.

I brought my squeeze box out from town and used to play it after supper. We would all sing, with Papa Schultz booming away on his own and leaving it up to the rest of us to find the key he was singing in. We had fun.

It turned out that Gretchen was an awful tease when she got over being shy. But I could always get her goat by pretending that her head was on fire and either warming my hands over her hair or threatening to pour water on her before she burned the place down.

The day finally came when it was my turn to have the colony’s crushers work on my land and I was almost sorry to see it arrive; I had had such a nice time at the Schultz’s. But by then I could caponize a rooster or plant a row of corn; I still had a lot to learn, but there wasn’t any good reason why I shouldn’t start making my own farm.

Dad and I had had to prepare our farm for the crusher by dynamiting the biggest boulders. A crusher will choke on anything much bigger than a barrel but it will handle up to that size very nicely. Dynamite is cheap, thank goodness, and we used plenty of it. The raw material is nitroglycerine which we didn’t have to import from Earth, the glycerine being refined from animal fats and the nitric acid being a synthetic byproduct of the atmosphere project.

Dad spent two weekends with me, making medium-sized ones out of big ones, then decided it was safe to trust me to set powder by myself and I finished the job. There was a little stream of melted snow water coming down from the hills at the far side of our property; we blew out a new bed for it to lead it close to the place where the house would go.

We left it dry for the time being, with a natural rock dam to blow up later. One fair-sized hill we moved entirely and blew it into a gully on the lake side of the land. Big charges that took and I almost got fitted for a halo through underestimating how far some of the stuff would throw.

It was easy work and lots of fun. I had a vibro-drill, borrowed from the engineer’s office; you could sink a charge hole with it twenty feet into rock as easily as you could sink a hot knife into butter. Then drop in the powder, fill the rest of the hole with rock dust, light the fuse, and run like the dickens!

But the most fun was blowing up that rock that looked like a grinning skull. I fixed it properly, it and its leer!

We had a visitor while we were dynamiting the land. Dad and I had just knocked off for lunch one day when Saunders, “The One-Man Lobby”–that’s George’s name for him–showed up. We invited him to share what we had; he had brought nothing but his appetite.

He complained about this and that. Dad tried to change the subject by asking him how he was getting along with his blasting. Saunders said it was slow work. Dad said, “You have the crusher the day after us, don’t you?”

Saunders admitted it and said he wanted to borrow some powder; he was running short of time. Dad let him have it, though it meant another trip out from town, after work, for him the next day. Saunders went on, “I’ve been looking this situation over, Mr. Lermer. We’re tackling it all wrong.”

George said, “So?”

Saunders said, “Yes, indeedy! Now in the first place this blasting ought not to be done by the homesteader; it should be done by trained crews, sent out by the government. It’s really part of the contract anyway; we’re supposed to receive processed land.”

Dad said mildly that, while that might be a nice idea, he didn’t know where they would find enough trained crews to do the work for fifteen hundred new farms.

“Let the government hire them!” Mr. Saunders answered. “Bring them in from Earth for that purpose. Now, see here, Mr. Lermer, you are in the chief engineer’s office. You ought to put in a word for the rest of us.”

George picked up the vibro and got ready to set a charge. Presently he answered, “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong party. I’m in an entirely different department.”

I guess Mr. Saunders saw he was off on the wrong tack for he went on, “In the second place, I have been looking into the matter of the soil, or what they call ‘soil’–again they are off on the wrong foot.” He kicked a rock. “This stuff isn’t good for anything. You can’t grow anything in stuff like that.”

“Naturally not,” agreed Dad. “You have to make soil first.”

“That’s just what I’m getting at,” Saunders went on. “You have to have soil–good, black, rich soil. So they tell us to breed it, a square foot at a time. Plough garbage into it, raise earthworms–I don’t know how many tomfool stunts.”

“Do you know of a better way?”

“You bet you I do! That’s just what I’m getting at. Here we are, piddling along, doing things the way a bunch of bureaucrats who never made a crop tell us to, all for a few inches of second-rate soil–when there are millions of cubic feet of the richest sort of black soil going begging.”

Dad looked up sharply. “Where?”

“In the Mississippi Delta, that’s where! Black soil goes down there for hundreds of feet.”

We both looked at him, but he was quite serious about it. “Now here’s what you’ve got to have–Level the ground off, yes. But after that spread real Earth soil over the rock to a depth of at least two feet; then it will be worth while to farm. As it is, we are just wasting our time.”

Dad waited a bit before answering, “Have you figured out what this would cost?”

Mr. Saunders brushed that aside. “That’s not the point; the point is, that’s what we’ve got to have. The government wants us to settle here, doesn’t it? Well, then, if we all stick together and insist on it, we’ll get it.” He jerked his chin triumphantly.

George started to say something, then stopped. He patted rock dust in on top of his charge, then straightened up and wiped the sweat off his beard. “Listen, citizen,” he said, “can’t you see that we are busy? I’m about to light this fuse; I suggest that you back away out of danger.”

“Huh?” said Saunders. “How big a charge is it? How far?”

If he had kept his eyes open, he would have seen how big a charge it was and known how far to give back. Dad said, “Oh, say a mile and a half–or even two miles. And keep backing.”

Saunders looked at him, snorted disgustedly, and stalked away. We backed out of range and let her blow.

While we were setting the next charge I could see George’s lips moving. After a while he said, “Figuring gumbo mud conservatively at a hundred pounds per cubic foot it would take one full load of the Mayflower to give Mr. Saunders alone the kind of a farm he would like to have handed to him. At that rate it would take just an even thousand G-years–five hundred Earth years–for the Mayflower to truck in top-soil for farms for our entire party.”

“You forgot the Covered Wagon,” I said brightly.

George grinned. “Oh, yes! When the Covered Wagon is commissioned and in service we could cut it down to two hundred and fifty years–provided no new immigrants came in and there was a ban on having babies!” He frowned and added, “Bill, why is it that some apparently-grown men never learn to do simple arithmetic?” I didn’t know the answer, so he said, “Come on, Bill, let’s get on with our blasting. I’m afraid we’ll just have to piddle along in our inefficient way, even if it doesn’t suit our friend Saunders.”

The morning the crusher was scheduled to show up I was waiting for it at the end of the road. It came breezing down the road at twenty miles an hour, filling it from side to side. When it came to the wall of lava, it stopped. I waved to the operator; he waved back, then the machine grunted a couple of times, inched forward, and took a bite out of the lava.

Lava didn’t bother it; it treated it like peanut brittle. A vibro-cutter built into its under carriage would slice under the flow like a housewife separating biscuit from a pan, the big steel spade on the front of the thing would pry under and crack the bite off, and the conveyor would carry the chunk up into the jaws.

The driver had a choice of dropping the chewed up material under the rear rollers or throwing it off to the side. Just now he was throwing it away, leaving the clean slice made by the vibro-cutter as a road bed –a good road, a little dusty but a few rains would fix that.

It was terrifically noisy but the driver didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to enjoy it; there was a good breeze taking the dust away from him and he had his anti-silicosis mask pushed up on his forehead, showing the grin on his face.

By noon he was down to our place and had turned in. We had a bite to eat together, then he started in levelling a farm for me–five acres, the rest would have to wait. At that I was lucky for I was to get land to work months ahead of the original schedule.

The second trip of the Mayflower had brought in three more crushers and very few immigrants, just enough to replace those who had given up and gone back out of our party, that being the compromise the town council had worked out with the Colonial Commission.

The racket was still worse when the crusher bit into hard rock, instead of lava, but it was music to me and I didn’t get tired of watching. Every bite was a piece of land to me. At suppertime the second-shift driver showed up with Dad. We watched together for a while, then Dad went back to town. I stayed. About midnight I went over into a stretch that was not to be processed now, found a big rock to keep the Sun out of my eyes and lay down for a quick nap.

Then the relief driver was shaking me and saying, “Wake up, kid–you got a farm.”

I stood up and rubbed my eyes and looked around. Five acres, with just enough contour for drainage and a low hummock in the middle where the house would sit. I had a farm.

The next logical thing to do would have been to get the house up, but, under the schedule, I rated the use of a cud-chewer for the following week. A cud-chewer is a baby rock crusher. It uses a power pack instead of an antenna, it is almost fool proof and anybody can run one, and it finishes up what the crusher starts. It is small and low-powered compared with a crusher. The colony had about forty of them.

The crusher left loose rubble several feet deep in pieces as big as my fist. The cud-chewer had a fork spade on the front of it, several sizes of spade forks, in fact. The coarse fork went down into the loose rocks about eighteen inches and picked up the big ones. These drifted back into the hopper as the machine moved forward and were busted into stuff about the size of walnuts.

When you had been over the ground once with the coarse fork, you unshipped it and put on the medium fork and reset the chewing rollers. This time you went down only ten inches and the result was gravel. Then you did it again for medium-fine and then fine and when you were done the upper six inches or so was rock flour, fine as the best loam–still dead, but ready to be bred into life.

Round and round and round, moving forward an inch at a time. To get real use out of your time allotment the cud-chewer had to be moving twenty- four hours a day until they took it away from you. I stayed at it all through the first day, eating my lunch in the saddle. Dad spelled me after supper and Hank came out from town and we alternated through the night-light phase it was, actually, it being Monday night.

Papa Schultz found me asleep with my head on the controls late next afternoon and sent me back to his house to get some real sleep. Thereafter one of the Schultzes always showed up when I had been at it alone for four or five hours. Without the Schultzes I don’t know how Dad and I would have gotten through the dark phase of that week.

But they did help and by the time I had to pass the cud-chewer along I had nearly three and a half acres ready to be seeded with pay dirt.

Winter was coming on and I had my heart set on getting my house up and living in it during the winter month, but to do so I really had to hump. I had to get some sort of a holding crop in or the spring thaw would wash my top soil away. The short Ganymede year is a good idea and I’m glad they run it that way; Earth’s winters are longer than necessary. But it keeps you on the jump.

Papa Schultz advised grass; the mutated grass would grow in sterile soil much like growing things in hydroponic solutions. The mat of rootlets would hold my soil even if the winter killed it and the roots would furnish something through which the infection could spread from the “pay dirt.”

Pay dirt is fundamentally just good black soil from Earth, crawling with bacteria and fungi and microscopic worms–everything you need but the big fishing worms; you have to add those. However, it wouldn’t do simply to ship Earth dirt to Ganymede by the car load. In any shovelful of loam there are hundreds of things, plant and animal, you need for growing soil–but there are hundreds of other things you don’t want. Tetanus germs. Plant disease viruses. Cut worms. Spores. Weed seeds. Most of them are too small to be seen with the naked eye and some of them can’t even be filtered out

So to make pay dirt the laboratory people back on Earth would make pure cultures of everything they wanted to keep in the way of bacteria, raise the little worms under laboratory conditions, do the same for fungi and everything else they wanted to save–and take the soil itself and kill it deader than Luna, irradiate it, bake it, test it for utter sterility.

Then they would take what they had saved in the way of life forms and put it back into the dead soil That was “pay dirt,” the original pay dirt. Once on Ganymede the original stuff would be cut six ways, encouraged to grow, then cut again. A hundred weight of pay dirt supplied to a ‘steader might contain a pound of Terra’s own soil.

Every possible effort was made to “limit the invasion,” as the ecologists say, to what was wanted. One thing that I may not have mentioned about the trip out was the fact that our clothes and our baggage were sterilized during the trip and that we ourselves were required to take a special scrub before we put our clothes back on. It was the only good bath I got the whole two months, but it left me smelling like a hospital.

The colony’s tractor trucks delivered the pay dirt I was entitled to in order to seed my farm; I left the Schultz place early that morning to meet them. There is difference of opinion as to the best way to plant pay dirt; some ‘steaders spread it all over and take a chance on it dying; some build up little pockets six or eight feet apart, checker board style … safe but slow. I was studying the matter, my mind not made up, when I saw something moving down the road.

It was a line of men, pushing wheelbarrows, six of them. They got closer and I could see that it was all the male Schultzes. I went out to meet them. Every one of those wheelbarrows was loaded with garbage and all for me!

Papa Schultz had been saving it as a surprise for me. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I blurted out, “Gee, Papa Schultz, I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back!”

He looked fierce and said, “Who is speaking of paying back when we have compost running out of our ears yet?” Then he had the boys dump their loads down on top of my pay dirt, took a fork and began mixing it as gently as Mama Schultz folding in beaten egg white.

He took charge and I didn’t have to worry about the best way to use it. In his opinion–and you can’t bet that I didn’t buck itl–what we had was good for about an acre and his method was to spread it through the soil. But he did not select one compact acre; he laid out strips, seven of them, a couple of hundred yards long each and stretching across my chewed soil thirty-five or forty feet apart. Each of us took a wheelbarrow–their six and my one–and distributed the mix along each line.

When that was done and cairns had been set to show where the strips ran, we raked the stuff into the rock dust five or six feet on each side of each line. Around noon Mama and Gretchen showed up, loaded down, and we stopped and had a picnic.

After lunch Yo had to go back to town but he had almost finished his strip. Papa had finished his and proceeded to help Hugo and Peter who were

too small to swing a good rake. I dug in and finished mine soon enough to be able to finish what Yo had left.

Dad showed up at the end of the day, expecting to help me all evening–it was light phase and you could work as late as you could stand up under it-

– but there was nothing left to do. And he didn’t know how to thank them either.

I like to think that we would have gotten the farm made anyhow, without the Schultzes, and maybe we would have–but I’m sure not sure. Pioneers need good neighbors.

The following week I spent working artificial nitrates from the colony’s power pile into the spaces between the strips–not as good as pay dirt from Earth, but not as expensive, either.

Then I tackled sowing the grass, by hand, just like in the Bible, and then raking it gently in. That old pest Saunders showed up. He still did so every now and then, but never when Dad was around. I guess he was lonely. His family was still in town and he was camping out in a ten-foot rock shed he had built. He wasn’t really making a farm, not properly; I couldn’t figure out what he was up to. It didn’t make sense.

I said, “Howdy,” and went on with my work.

He watched me, looking sour, and finally said, “You still bent on breaking your heart on this stuff, aren’t you, youngster?” I told him I hadn’t noticed any wear and tear on my pump, and anyhow, wasn’t he making a farm, too?

He snorted. “Not likely!” “Then what are you doing?”

“Buying my ticket, that’s what.”

“Huh?”

“The only thing you can sell around this place is improved land. I’m beating them at their own game, that’s what. I’ll get that land in shape to unload it on some other sucker and then me and mine are heading straight back for that ever-lovin’ Earth. And that’s just what you’ll be doing if you aren’t an utter fool. You’ll never make a farm here. It can’t be done.”

I was getting very tired of him but I’m short on the sort of point-blank guts it takes to be flatly rude. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Look at Mr. Schultz– he’s got a good farm.”

Saunders snorted again. “You mean ‘Johnny Apple-seed?” “I mean Mr. Johann Schultz.”

“Sure, sure–Johnny Appleseed. That’s what everybody calls him in town. He’s nuts. You know what he did? He gave me a handful of apple seeds and acted like he had handed me the riches of Solomon.”

I stopped raking. “Well, hadn’t he?”

Saunders spat on the ground between us. “He’s a clown.”

I lifted up the head of the rake. I said, “Mr. Saunders, you are standing on my land, my property. I’ll give you just two shakes to get off it and never set foot on it again!”

He backed away and said, “Hey! You stop that! Watch what you are doing with that rake!” I said, “Git!”

He got.

The house was a problem. Ganymede has little quakes all the time. It has to do with “isostasy” which doesn’t mean a thing but “equal-pressure”

when you get right down to it, but it’s the science of how the mountains balance the seas and the gravitation of a planet all comes out even.

It has to do with tidal strains, too, which is odd, since Ganymede doesn’t have any tides; the Sun is too far away to matter and Ganymede always keeps the same face toward Jupiter. Oh, you can detect a little tide on Laguna Serenidad when Europa is closest to Ganymede and even a trifle from Callisto and lo, but what I mean is it doesn’t have tidesnot like the Pacific Ocean.

What it does have is a frozen tidal strain. The way Mr. Hooker, the chief meteorologist, explains it is that Ganymede was closer to Jupiter when it cooled off and lost its rotation, so that there is a tidal bulge in the planet itself–sort of a fossil tidal bulge. The Moon has one, you know.

Then we came along and melted off the ice cap and gave Ganymede an atmosphere. That rearranged the pressures everywhere and the isostatic balance is readjusting. Result: little quakes all the time.

I’m a California boy; I wanted a quakeproof house. Schultzes had a quakeproof house and it seemed like a good idea, even though there had never been a quake heavy enough to knock a man down, much less knock a house down. On the other hand most of the colonists didn’t bother; it is hard to make a rock house really quakeproof.

Worse than that, it’s expensive. The basic list of equipment that a ‘steader is promised in his emigration contract reads all right, a hoe, a spade, a shovel, a wheelbarrow, a hand cultivator, a bucket, and so forth down the list–but when you start to farming you find that is only the beginning and you’ve got to go to the Exchange and buy a lot of other stuff. I was already in debt a proved acre and a half, nearly, before the house ever went up.

As usual we compromised. One room had to be quake proof because it had to be air tight–Peggy’s room. She was getting better all the time, but she still couldn’t take low pressure for any length of time. If the family was going to move out to the farm, her bedroom had to be sealed, it had to have an air lock on it, and we had to have an impeller. All that runs into money.

Before I was through I had to pledge two more acres. Dad tried to sign for it but they told him bluntly that while a ‘steader’s credit was good, his wasn’t. That settled the matter. We planned on one reinforced room and hoped to build on to it later. In the mean time the house would be a living room, ten by twelve, where I would sleep, a separate bedroom too small to swing a cat for George and Molly, and Peggy’s room. All but Peggy’s room would be dry wall rock with a patent roof.

Pretty small, eh? Well, what’s wrong with that? Abe Lincoln started with less.

I started in cutting the stone as soon as the seed was in. A vibro-saw is like a vibro-drill, except that it cuts a hair line instead of drilling a hole. When the power is on you have to be durned careful not to get your fingers or anything into the field, but it makes easy work of stone cutting. By the contract you got the use of one for forty-eight hours free and another forty-eight hours, if you wanted it, at a reduced rate.

I got my work lined up and managed to squeeze it into the two free days. I didn’t want to run up any more debt, because there was another thing I was hankering for, come not later than the second spring away–flicker flood lights. Papa Schultz had them for his fields and they just about doubled his crops. Earth plants aren’t used to three and half days of darkness, but, if you can tickle them during the dark phase with flicker lights, the old photosynthesis really gets in and humps itself.

But that would have to wait.

The patrol got the house up–the patrol I was in, I mean, the Auslanders. It was a surprise to me and yet it wasn’t, because everybody has a house raising; you can’t do it alone. I had already taken part in six myself–not just big-heartedness, don’t get me wrong. I had to learn how it was done.

But the patrol showed up before I had even passed the word around that I was ready to hold a house raising. They came swinging down our road; Sergei marched them up to where the house was to be, halted them, and said to me, “Bill, are your Scout dues paid up?” He sounded fierce. I said, “You know they are.”

“Then you can help. But don’t get in our way.” Suddenly he grinned and I knew I had been framed. He turned to the patrol and shouted, “House raising drill! Fall out and fall to.”

Suddenly it looked like one of those TV comedies where everything has been speeded up. I never saw anybody work the way they did. Let me tell you it doesn’t take Scout uniforms to make Scouts. None of us ever had uniforms; we couldn’t afford special clothes just for Scouting.

Besides the Auslanders there was Vic Schultz and Hank Jones, both from the Hard Rock patrol and Doug Okajima, who wasn’t even of our troop but still with the Baden-Powell. It did my heart good. I hadn’t seen much of the fellows lately; during light phase I always worked too late to get in to meetings; during dark phase a cold nine miles into town after supper is something to think twice about.

I felt sheepish to realize that while I might have forgotten them, they hadn’t forgotten me, and I resolved to get to meetings, no matter how tired I was.

And take the tests for those two merit badges, too–the very first chance I got.

That reminded me of another item of unfinished business, too–Noisy Edwards. But you can’t take a day off just to hunt somebody up and poke him in the snoot, not when you are making a farm. Besides it wouldn’t hurt anything for me to put on another ten pounds; I didn’t want it to be a repetition of the last time.

Dad showed up almost immediately with two men from his office and he took charge of bracing and sealing Peggy’s room. The fact that he showed up at all let me know that he was in on it–which he admitted. It had been Sergei’s idea and that was why Dad had put me off when I said it was about time to invite the neighbors in.

I got Dad aside. “Look, George,” I said, “how in tarnation are we going to feed ’em?” “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“But I do worry about it!” Everybody knows it’s the obligation of the ‘steader whose house is being raised to provide the victuals and I had been taken by surprise.

“I said not to,” he repeated. And presently I knew why; Molly showed up with Mama Schultz, Gretchen, Sergei’s sister Marushka, and two girls who were friends of Peggy–and what they were carrying they couldn’t have carried on Earth. It was a number one picnic and Sergei had trouble getting them back to work after lunch.

Theoretically, Molly had done the cooking over at the Schultz’s but I know Mama Schultz–anyhow, let’s face it, Molly wasn’t much of a cook.

Molly had a note for me from Peggy. It read: “Dearest Billy, Please come into town tonight and tell me all about it. Pretty please!” I told Molly I would. By eighteen o’clock that afternoon the roof was on and we had a house. The door wasn’t hung; it was still down at the ‘Change. And the power unit

wasn’t in and might not be for a week. But we had a house that would keep off the rain, and a pint-sized cow barn as well, even if I didn’t own a cow.

9.        Why Did We Come?

According to my diary we moved into the house on the first day of spring.

Gretchen came over and helped me get ready for them. I suggested that we ask Marushka as well, since there would be lots of work to do. Gretchen said, “Suit yourself!” and seemed annoyed, so I didn’t. Women are funny. Anyhow Gretchen is a right good worker.

I had been sleeping in the house ever since the raising and even before the technicians from the engineer’s office had come and installed the antenna on the roof and rigged the lights and heat–but that was done before winter was started and I passed a comfortable month, fixing up the inside of the place and getting in a crop of ice for the summer. I stored the ice, several tons of it, in the gully at the side of the house, where I meant to plant apple trees just as soon as I could get fixed for it. The ice would keep there until I could build a proper cold cellar.

The first few months after the folks moved out are the happiest I can remember. We were together again and it was good. Dad still spent most of each dark phase in town, working on a part time basis, but that was quite as much because he was interested in the manufacturing project as it was to help pay off our debts. During light phase we worked almost around the clock, side by side or at least within earshot.

Molly seemed to like being a housewife. I taught her how to cook and she caught on real fast. Ganymede cooking is an art. Most things have to be cooked under pressure, even baked things, for water boils at just a little over a hundred and forty degrees. You can stir boiling water with your finger if you don’t leave it in too long. Then Molly started learning from Mama Schultz but I didn’t mind that; Mama Schultz was an artist. Molly got to be a really good cook.

Peg had to live in her room, of course, but we had hopes that she would be out soon. We had the pressure down to eight pounds, half oxygen and half nitrogen, and we usually all ate in her room. I still hated the thick stuff but it was worth while putting up with it so that the family could eat together. After a while I got so that I could change pressure without even an earache.

Peggy could come outside, too. We had brought her from town in a bubble stretcher–another thing bought on credit!–and Dad had fitted it with the gas apparatus from an old space suit he had salvaged from the Project Jove people. Peggy could get into the stretcher and shut herself in and we could bleed off the pressure in her room and take her outside where she could get some sunshine and look at the mountains and the lake and watch Dad and me work in the fields. The clear plastic of the bubble did not stop ultraviolet and it was good for her.

She was a skinny little runt and it was no trouble to move her around, even in the stretcher. Light phase, she spent a lot of time outdoors.

We had started with a broody hen and fifteen fertile eggs, and a pair of rabbits. Pretty soon we had meat of our own. We always let Peggy think that the fryers we ate came from the Schultzes and I don’t think she ever caught on. At first I used to go to the Schultz farm every day for fresh milk for Peggy, but I got a chance, midsummer, to get a fresh two-year-old cow on tick at a reasonable price. Peggy named her Mabel and was much irked that she couldn’t get at her to pet her.

We were on the move all the time. I still hadn’t managed to take my merit badge tests and I hadn’t done much better about getting in to Scout meetings. There was just too much to do. Building a pond, for example–Laguna Serenidad was being infected with plankton and algae but there weren’t fish in it yet and it would be a long time, even after the fish were stocked, before fishing would be allowed. So we did fish-pond gardening, Chinese style, after I got the pond built.

And there were always crops to work on. My cover grass had taken hold all right and shortly after we moved in the soil seemed ready to take angle worms. Dad was about to send a sample into town for analysis when Papa Schultz stopped by. Hearing what we were about he took up a handful of the worked soil, crumbled it, smelled it, tasted it, and told me to go ahead and plant my worms. I did and they did all right; we encountered them from time to time in working the fields thereafter.

You could see the stripes on the fields which had been planted with pay dirt by the way the grass came up. You could see that the infection was spreading, too, but not much. I had a lot of hard work ahead before the stripes would meet and blend together and then we could think about renting a cud-chewer and finishing off the other acre and a half, using our own field loam and our own compost heap to infect the new soil. After that we could see about crushing some more acres, but that was a long way away.

We put in carrots and lettuce and beets and cabbage and brussels sprouts and potatoes and broccoli. We planted corn between the rows. I would like to have put in an acre of wheat but it didn’t make sense when we had so little land. There was one special little patch close to the house where we put in tomatoes and Hubbard squash and some peas and beans.

Those were “bee” plants and Molly would come out and pollenate them by hand, a very tedious business. We hoped to have a hive of bees some day and the entomologists on the bionomics staff were practically busting their hearts trying to breed a strain of bees which would prosper out doors. You see, among other things, while our gravity was only a third Earth-normal, our air pressure was only a little better than a fifth Earth-normal and the bees resented it; it made flying hard work for them. Or maybe bees are just naturally conservative.

I guess I was happy, or too tired and too busy to be unhappy, right up to the following winter.

At first winter seemed like a good rest. Aside from getting the ice crop in and taking care of the cow and the rabbits and the chickens there wasn’t too much to do. I was tired out and cranky and didn’t know it; Molly, I think, was just quietly, patiently exhausted. She wasn’t used to farm life and she wasn’t handy at it, the way Mama Schultz was.

Besides that, she wanted inside plumbing and it just wasn’t in the cards for her to have it any time soon. I carried water for her, of course, usually having to crack ice in the stream to get it, but that didn’t cover everything, not with snow on the ground. Not that she complained.

Dad didn’t complain, either, but there were deep lines forming from his nose down to his mouth which his beard didn’t cover entirely. But it was mostly Peggy.

When we first moved her out to the farm she perked up a lot. We gradually reduced the pressure in her room and she kept insisting that she was fine and teasing for a chance to go out without the bubble stretcher. We even tried it once, on Dr. Archibald’s advice, and she didn’t have a nose bleed but she was willing to get back in after about ten minutes.

The fact was she wasn’t adjusting. It wasn’t just the pressure; something else was wrong. She didn’t belong here and she wouldn’t growhere. Have you ever had a plant that refused to be happy where you planted it? It was like that.

She belonged back on Earth.

I suppose we weren’t bad off, but there is a whale of a difference between being a rich farmer, like Papa Schultz, with heaps of cow manure in your barn yard and hams hanging in your cold cellar and every modern convenience you could want, even running water in your house, and being poor farmers, like us, scratching for a toe hold in new soil and in debt to the Commission. It told on us and that winter we had time to brood about it.

We were all gathered in Peggy’s room after lunch one Thursday. Dark phase had just started and Dad was due to go back into town; we always gave him a send off. Molly was darning and Peg and George were playing cribbage. I got out my squeeze box and started knocking out some tunes. I guess we all felt cheerful enough for a while. I don’t know how I happened to drift into it, but after a bit I found I was playing The Green Hills of Earth. I hadn’t played it in a long time.

I brayed through that fortissimo part about “Out ride the sons of Terra; Far drives the thundering jet–” and was thinking to myself that jets didn’t thunder any more. I was still thinking about it when I went on into the last chorus, the one you play very softly: “We pray for one last landing on the globe that gave us birth–“

I looked up and there were tears running down Molly’s cheeks.

I could have kicked myself. I put my accordion down with a squawk, not even finishing, and got up. Dad said, “What’s the matter, Bill?”, I muttered something about having to go take a look at Mabel.

I went out into the living room and put on my heavy clothes and actually did go outside, though I didn’t go near the barn. It had been snowing and it was already almost pitch dark, though the Sun hadn’t been down more than a couple of hours. The snow had stopped but there were clouds overhead and you couldn’t see Jupiter.

The clouds had broken due west and let the sunset glow come through a bit. After my eyes adjusted, by that tiny amount of light I could see around me–the mountains, snow to their bases, disappearing in the clouds, the lake, just a sheet of snow-covered ice, and the boulders beyond our fields, making weird shapes in the snow. It was a scene to match the way I felt; it looked like the place where you might be sent for having lived a long and sinful life.

I tried to figure out what I was doing in such a place.

The clouds in the west shifted a little and I saw a single bright green star, low down toward the horizon, just above where the Sun had set. It was Earth.

I don’t know how long I stood there. Presently somebody put a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. It was Dad, all bundled up for a nine-mile tramp through the dark and the snow.

“What’s the matter, Son?” he said.

I started to speak, but I was all choked up and couldn’t. Finally I managed to say, “Dad, why did we come here?” “Mmmm … you wanted to come. Remember?”

“I know,” I admitted.

“Still, the real reason, the basic reason, for coming here was to keep your grandchildren from starving. Earth is overcrowded, Bill.”

I looked back at Earth again. Finally I said, “Dad, I’ve made a discovery. There’s more to life than three square meals a day. Sure, we can make crops here– this land would grow hair on a billiard ball. But I don’t think you had better plan on any grandchildren here; it would be no favor to them. I know when I’ve made a mistake.”

“You’re wrong, Bill, Your kids will like this place, just the way Eskimos like where they live.” “I doubt it like the mischief.”

“Remember, the ancestors of Eskimos weren’t Eskimos; they were immigrants, too. If you send your kids back to Earth, for school, say, they’ll be homesick for Ganymede. They’ll hate Earth. They’ll weigh too much, they won’t like the air, they won’t like the climate, they won’t like the people.”

“Hmm–look, George, do you like it here? Are you glad we came?”

Dad was silent for a long time. At last he said, “I’m worried about Peggy, Bill.” “Yeah, I know. But how about yourself–and Molly?”

“I’m not worried about Molly. Women have their ups and downs. You’ll learn to expect that.” He shook himself and said, “I’m late. You go on inside

and have Molly fix you a cup of tea. Then take a look at the rabbits. I think the doe is about to drop again; we don’t want to lose the young ‘uns.” He

hunched his shoulders and set off down toward the road. I watched him out of sight and then went back inside.

1.        Line Up

Then suddenly it was spring and everything was all right.

Even winter seemed like a good idea when it was gone. We had to have winter; the freezing and thawing was necessary to develop the ground, not to mention the fact that many crops won’t come to fruit without cold weather. Anyway, anybody can live through four weeks of bad weather.

Dad laid off his job when spring came and we pitched in together and got our fields planted. I rented a power barrow and worked across my strips to spread the living soil. Then there was the back-breaking job of preparing the gully for the apple trees. I had started the seeds soon after Papa Schultz had given them to me, forcing them indoors, first at the Schultz’s, then at our place. Six of them had germinated and now they were nearly two feet tall.

I wanted to try them outdoors. Maybe I would have to take them in again next winter, but it was worth a try.

Dad was interested in the venture, too, not just for fruit trees, but for lumber. Wood seems like an obsolete material, but try getting along without it. I think George had visions of the Big Rock Candy Mountains covered with tall straight pines … someday, someday.

So we went deep and built it to drain and built it wide and used a lot of our winter compost and some of our precious topsoil. There was room enough for twenty trees when we got through, where we planted our six little babies. Papa Schultz came over and pronounced a benediction over them.

Then he went inside to say hello to Peggy, almost filling her little room. George used to say that when Papa inhaled the pressure in the room dropped.

A bit later Papa and Dad were talking in the living room; Dad stopped me as I was passing through. “Bill,” he asked, “how would you like to have a window about here?” He indicated a blank wall.

I stared. “Huh? How would we keep the place warm?” “I mean a real window, with glass.”

“Oh.” I thought about it. I had never lived in a place with windows in my life; we had always been apartment dwellers. I had seen windows, of course, in country houses back Earthside, but there wasn’t a window on Ganymede and it hadn’t occurred to me that there ever would be.

“Papa Schultz plans to put one in his house. I thought it might be nice to sit inside and look out over the lake, light phase evenings,” Dad went on. “To make a home you need windows and fireplaces,” Papa said placidly. “Now that we glass make, I mean to have a view.”

Dad nodded. “For three hundred years the race had glazed windows. Then they shut themselves up in little air-conditioned boxes and stared at silly television pictures instead. One might as well be on Luna.”

It was a startling idea, but it seemed like a good one. I knew they were making glass in town. George says that glassmaking is one of the oldest manufacturing arts, if not the oldest, and certainly one of the simplest. But I had thought about it for bottles and dishes, not for window glass. They already had glass buckets on sale at the ‘Change, for about a tenth the cost of the imported article.

A view window–it was a nice idea. We could put one on the south and see the lake and another on the north and see the mountains. Why, I could even put in a skylight and lie on my bunk and see old Jupiter.

Stow it, William, I said to myself; you’ll be building a whole house out of glass next. After Papa Schultz left I spoke to George about it. “Look,” I said, “about this view window idea. It’s a good notion, especially for Peggy’s room, but the question is: can we afford it?”

“I think we can,” he answered.

“I mean can we afford it without your going back to work in town? You’ve been working yourself to death –and there’s no need to. The farm can support us now.”

He nodded. “I had been meaning to speak about that. I’ve about decided to give up the town work, Bill–except for a class I’ll teach on Saturdays.” “Do you have to do that?”

“Happens that I like to teach engineering, Bill And don’t worry about the price of the glass; well get it free–a spot of cumshaw coining to your old man for designing the glass works. “The kine who tread the grain,'” he quoted. “Now you and I had better get busy; there is a rain scheduled for fifteen o’clock.’

It was maybe three weeks later that the moons lined up. This is an event that almost never happens, Ganymede, Callisto, Io, and Europa, all perfectly lined up and all on the same side of Jupiter. They come close to lining up every seven hundred and two days, but they don’t quite make it ordinarily. You see, their periods are all different, from less than two days for Io to more than two weeks for Callisto and the fractions don’t work out evenly. Besides that they have different eccentricities to their orbits and their orbits aren’t exactly in the same plane.

As you can see, a real line up hardly ever happens.

Besides that, this line up was a line up with the Sun, too; it would occur at Jupiter full phase. Mr. Hooker, the chief meteorologist, announced that it had been calculated that such a perfect line up would not occur again for more than two hundred thousand years. You can bet we were all waiting to see it. The Project Jove scientists were excited about it, too, and special arrangements had been made to observe it.

Having it occur at Jupiter full phase meant not only that a sixth heavenly body–the Sun–would be in the line up, but that we would be able to see it. The shadows of Ganymede and Callisto would be centered on Jupiter just as Io and Europa reached mid transit.

Full phase is at six o’clock Saturday morning; we all got up about four-thirty and were outside by five. George and I carried Peggy out in her bubble stretcher. We were just in time.

It was a fine, clear summer night, light as could be, with old Jupiter blazing overhead like a balloon on fire. Io had just barely kissed the eastern edge of Jupiter–“first contact” they call it. Europa was already a bit inside the eastern edge and I had to look sharp to see it.

When a moon is not in full phase it is no trouble to pick it out while it’s making its transit, but at full phase it tends to blend into the background. However, both Ioand Europa are just a hair brighter than Jupiter. Besides that, they break up the pattern of Jupiter’s bands and that lets you see them, too.

Well inside, but still in the eastern half–say about half way to Jupiter’s center point–were the shadows of Ganymede and Callisto. I could not have told them apart, if I hadn’t known that the one further east had to be Ganymede’s. They were just little round black dots; three thousand miles or so isn’t anything when it’s plastered against Jupiter’s eighty-nine thousand mile width.

Io looked a bit bigger than the shadows; Europa looked more than half again as big, about the way the Moon looks from Earth.

We felt a slight quake but it wasn’t even enough to make us nervous; we were used to quakes. Besides that, about then Io”kissed” Europa. From then on, throughout the rest of the show, Io gradually slid underneath, or behind, Europa.

They crawled across the face of Jupiter; the moons fairly fast, the shadows in a slow creep. When we had been outside a little less than half an hour the two shadows kissed and started to merge. Io had slid halfway under Europa and looked like a big tumor on its side. They were almost halfway to center and the shadows were even closer.

Just before six o’clock Europa–you could no longer see Io; Europa covered it–as I was saying, Europa kissed the shadow, which by now was round, just one shadow.

Four or five minutes later the shadow had crawled up on top of Europa; they were all lined up–and I knew I was seeing the most extraordinary sight I would ever see in my life, Sun, Jupiter, and the four biggest moons all perfectly lined up.

I let out a deep breath: I don’t know how long I had been holding it. “Gee whiz!” was all I could think of to say.

“I agree in general with your sentiments, Bill,” Dad answered. “Molly, hadn’t we better get Peggy inside? I’m afraid she is getting cold.”

“Yes,” agreed Molly. “I know I am, for one.”

“I’m going down to the lake now,” I said. The biggest tide of record was expected, of course. While the lake was too small to show much tide, I had made a mark the day before and I hoped to be able to measure it.

“Don’t get lost in the dark,” Dad called out. I didn’t answer him. A silly remark doesn’t require an answer. I had gotten past the road and maybe a quarter of a mile beyond when it hit.

It knocked me flat on my face, the heaviest shake I had ever felt in my life. I’ve felt heavy quakes in California; they weren’t a patch on this one. I lay face down for a long moment, digging into the rock with my finger nails and trying to get it to hold still.

The seasick roll kept up and kept up and kept up, and with it the noise–a deep bass rumble, deeper than thunder and more terrifying.

A rock rolled up against me and nipped my side. I got to my feet and managed to stay there. The ground was still swaying and the rumble kept on. I headed for the house, running–like dancing over shifting ice. I fell down twice and got up again.

The front end of the house was all caved in. The roof slanted down at a crazy angle. “George!” I yelled. “Molly! Where are you?”

George heard me and straightened up. He was on the other side of the house and now I saw him over the collapsed roof. He didn’t say anything. I rushed around to where he stood. “Are you all right?” I demanded.

“Help me get Molly out–” he gasped.

I found out later that George had gone inside with Molly and Peggy, had helped get Peg out of the stretcher and back into her room, and then had gone outside, leaving Molly to get breakfast. The quake had hit while he was returning from the barn. But we didn’t have time then to talk it over; we dug–moving slabs with our bare hands that had taken four Scouts, working together, to lay. George kept crying, “Molly! Molly! Where are you?”

She was lying on the floor beside the stone work bench that was penned in by the roof. We heaved it off her; George scrambled over the rubble and reached her. “Molly! Molly darling!”

She opened her eyes. “George!” “Are you all right?”

“What happened?”

“Quake. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

She sat up, made a face as if something hurt her, and said, “I think I– George! Where’s Peggy? Get Peggy!”

Peggy’s room was still upright; the reinforcements had held while the rest of the house had gone down around it. George insisted on moving Molly out into the open first, then we tackled the slabs that kept us from getting at the air lock to Peggy’s room.

The outer door of the air lock was burst out of its gaskets and stood open, the wrong way. It was black inside the lock; Jupiter light didn’t reach inside. I couldn’t see what I was doing but when I pushed on the inner door it wouldn’t give. “Can’t budge it,” I told Dad. “Get a light.”

“Probably still held by air pressure. Call out to Peggy to get in the stretcher and we’ll bleed it.” “I need a light,” I repeated.

“I haven’t got a light.”

“Didn’t you have one with you?” I had had one; we always carried torches, outdoors in dark phase, but I had dropped mine when the quake hit. I didn’t know where it was.

Dad thought about it, then climbed over the slabs. He was back in a moment. “I found it between here and the barn. I must have dropped it.” He shined it on the inner door and we looked over the situation.

“It looks bad,” Dad said softly. “Explosive decompression.” There was a gap you could poke your fingers through between the top of the door and the frame; the door wasn’t pressure held, it was jammed.

Dad called out, “Peggy! Oh, Peggy, darling–can you hear me?”

No answer. “Take the light, Bill–and stand aside.” He reared back and then hit the door hard with his shoulder. It gave a bit but didn’t open. He hit it again and it flew open, spilling him on his hands and knees. He scrambled up as I shined the light in past him.

Peggy lay half in and half out of bed, as if she had been trying to get up when she passed out. Her head hung down and a trickle of blood was dripping from her mouth on to the floor.

Molly had come in right behind us; she and Dad got Peggy into the stretcher and Dad brought the pressure up. She was alive; she gasped and choked and sprayed blood over us while we were trying to help her. Then she cried. She seemed to quiet down and go to sleep –or maybe fainted again–after we got her into the bubble.

Molly was crying but not making any fuss about it. Dad straightened up, wiped his face and said, “Grab on, Bill. We’ve got to get her into town.”

I said, “Yes,” and picked up one end. With Molly holding the light and us carrying, we picked our way over the heap of rock that used to be our house and got out into the open. We put the stretcher down for a moment and I looked around.

I glanced up at Jupiter; the shadows were still on his face and Io and Europa had not yet reached the western edge. The whole thing had taken less than an hour. But that wasn’t what held my attention; the sky looked funny.

The stars were too bright and there were too many of them. “George,” I said, “what’s happened to the sky?” “No time now–” he started to say. Then he stopped and said very slowly, “Great Scott!”

“What?” asked Molly. “What’s the matter?”

“Back to the house, all of you! We’ve got to dig out all the clothes we can get at. And blanketsl” “What? Why?”

“The heat trap! The heat trap is gone–the quake must have gotten the power house.”

So we dug again, until we found what we had to have. It didn’t take long; we knew where things had to be. It was just a case of getting the rocks off. The blankets were for the stretcher; Dad wrapped them around like a cocoon and tied them in place. “Okay, Bill,” he said. “Quick march, nowl”

It was then that I heard Mabel bawl. I stopped and looked at Dad. He stopped too, with an agony of indecision on his face. “Oh, damn!” he said, the first time I had ever heard him really swear. “We can’t just leave her to freeze; she’s a member of the family. Come, Bill.”

We put the stretcher down again and ran to the bam. It was a junk heap but we could tell by Mabel’s complaints where she was. We dragged the roof off her and she got to her feet. She didn’t seem to be hurt but I guess she had been knocked silly. She looked at us indignantly.

We had a time of it getting her over the slabs, with Dad pulling and me pushing. Dad handed the halter to Molly. “How about the chickens?” I asked, “And the rabbits?” Some of them had been crushed; the rest were loose around the place. I felt one–a rabbit –scurry between my feet

“No time!” snapped Dad. “We can’t take them; all we could do for them would be to cut their throats. Come!” We headed for the road.

Molly led the way, leading and dragging Mabel and carrying the light. We needed the light. The night, too bright and too clear a few minutes before, was now suddenly overcast. Shortly we couldn’t see Jupiter at all, and then you couldn’t count your fingers in front of your face.

The road was wet underfoot, not rain, but sudden dew; it was getting steadily colder.

Then it did rain, steadily and coldly. Presently it changed to wet snow. Molly dropped back. “George,” she wanted to know, “have we come as far as the turn off to the Schultz’s?”

“That’s no good,” he answered. “We’ve got to get the baby into the hospital.” That isn’t what I meant. Oughtn’t I to warn them?”

They’ll be all right. Their house is sound.”

“But the cold?”

“Oh.” He saw what she meant and so did I, when I thought about it. With the heat trap gone and the power house gone, every house in the colony was going to be like an ice box. What good is a power receiver on your roof with no power to receive? It was going to get colder and colder and colder ….

And then it would get colder again. And colder….

“Keep moving,” Dad said suddenly. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

But we didn’t figure it out, because we never found the turn off. The snow was driving into our faces by then and we must have walked on past it. It was a dry snow now, little sharp needles that burned when they hit.

Without saying anything about it, I had started counting paces when we left the walls of lava that marked the place where the new road led to our place and out to the new farms beyond. As near as I could make it we had come about five miles when Molly stopped. “What’s the matter?” yelled Dad.

“Dear,” she said, “I can’t find the road. I think I’ve lost it.”

I kicked the snow away underfoot. It was made ground, all right–soft. Dad took the torch and looked at his watch. “We must have come about six miles,” he announced.

“Five,” I corrected him. “Or five and a half at the outside,” I told him I had been counting.

He considered it. “We’ve come just about to that stretch where the road is flush with the field,” he said. “It can’t be more than a half mile or a mile to the cut through Kneiper’s Ridge. After that we can’t lose it. Bill, take the light and cast off to the right for a hundred paces, then back to the left. If that doesn’t do it, well go further. And for heaven’s sakes retrace your steps–it’s the only way you’ll find us in this storm.”

I took the light and set out. To the right was no good, though I went a hundred and fifty paces instead of a hundred, I got back to them, and reported, and started out again. Dad just grunted; he was busy with something about the stretcher.

On the twenty-third step to the left I found the road –by stepping down about a foot, falling flat on my face, and nearly losing the light. I picked myself up and went back.

“Good!” said Dad. “Slip your neck through this.”

“This” was a sort of yoke he had devised by retying the blankets around the stretcher so as to get some free line. With my neck through it I could carry the weight on my shoulders and just steady my end with my hands. Not that it was heavy, but our hands were getting stiff with cold. “Good enough!” I said, “But, look, George–let Molly take your end.”

“Nonsense!”

“It isn’t nonsense. Molly can do it–can’t you, Molly? And you know this road better than we do; you’ve tramped it enough times in the dark.” “Bill is right, dear,” Molly said at once. “Here–take Mabel.”

Dad gave in, took the light and the halter. Mabel didn’t want to go any further; she wanted to sit down, I guess. Dad kicked her in the rear and jerked

on her neck. Her feelings were hurt; she wasn’t used to that sort of treatment–particularly not from Dad. But there was no time to humor her; it was getting colder.

We went on. I don’t know how Dad kept to the road but he did. We had been at it another hour, I suppose, and had left Kneiper’s slot well behind, when Molly stumbled, then her knees just seemed to cave in and she knelt down in the snow.

I stopped and sat down, too; I needed the rest. I just wanted to stay there and let it snow.

Dad came back and put his arms around her and comforted her and told her to lead Mabel now; she couldn’t get lost on this stretch. She insisted that she could still carry. Dad ignored her, just lifted the yoke business off her shoulders. Then he came back and peeled a bit of blanket off the bubble and shined the torch inside. He put it back into place. Molly said, “How is she?’

Dad said, “She’s still breathing. She opened her eyes when the light hit them. Let’s go.” He got the yoke on and Molly took the light and the halter. Molly couldn’t have seen what I saw; the plastic of the bubble was frosted over on the inside. Dad hadn’t seen Peggy breathe; he hadn’t seen

anything.

I thought about it for a long while and wondered how you would classify that sort of a lie. Dad wasn’t a liar, that was certain–and yet it seemed to me that such a lie, right then, was better than the truth. It was complicated.

Pretty soon I forgot it; I was too busy putting one foot in front of the other and counting the steps. I couldn’t feel my feet any longer. Dad stopped and I bumped into the end of the stretcher. “Listen!” he said.

I listened and heard a dull rumble. “Quake?”

“No. Keep quiet.” Then he added, “It’s down the road. Off the road, everybody! Off to the right.”

The rumble got louder and presently I made out a light through the snow, back the way we had come. Dad saw it, too, and stepped out on the road and started waving our torch.

The rumble stopped almost on top of him; it was a rock crusher and it was loaded down with people, people clinging to it all over and even riding the spade. The driver yelled, “Climb on! And hurry!”

Then he saw the cow and added, “No live stock.”

“We’ve got a stretcher with my little girl in it,” Dad shouted back to him. “We need help.”

There was a short commotion, while the driver ordered a couple of men down to help us. In the mix up Dad disappeared. One moment Molly was holding Mabel’s halter, then Dad was gone and so was the cow.

We got the stretcher up onto the spade and some of the men braced it with their backs. I was wondering what to do about Dad and thinking maybe I ought to jump off and look for him, when he appeared out of the darkness and scrambled up beside me. “Where’s Molly?” he asked.

“Up on top. But where is Mabel? What did you do with her?”

“Mabel is all right.” He folded his knife and put it in his pocket. I didn’t ask any more questions.

2.        Disaster

We passed several more people after that, but the driver wouldn’t stop. We were fairly close into town and he insisted that they could make it on their own. His emergency power pack was running low, he said; he had come all the way from the bend in the lake, ten miles beyond our place.

Besides, I don’t know where he would have put them. We were about three deep and Dad had to keep warning people not to lean on the bubble of

the stretcher.

Then the power pack did quit and the driver shouted, “Everybody off! Get on in on your own.” But by now we were actually in town, the outskirts, and it would have been no trouble if it hadn’t been blowing a blizzard. The driver insisted on helping Dad with the stretcher. He was a good Joe and turned out to be–when I saw him in the light–the same man who had crushed our acreage.

At long, long last we were inside the hospital and Peggy was turned over to the hospital people and put in a pressurized room. More than that, she was alive. In bad shape, but alive.

Molly stayed with her. I would like to have stayed, too–it was fairly warm in the hospital; it had its own emergency power pack. But they wouldn’t let me.

Dad told Molly that he was reporting to the chief engineer for duty. I was told to go to the Immigration Receiving Station. I did so and it was just like the day we landed, only worse–and colder. I found myself right back in the very room which was the first I had ever been in on Ganymede.

The place was packed and getting more packed every minute as more refugees kept pouring in from the surrounding country. It was cold, though not so bitterly cold as outside. The lights were off, of course; light and heat all came from the power plant for everything.

Hand lights had been set up here and there and you could sort of grope your way around. There were the usual complaints, too, though maybe not as bad as you hear from immigrants. I paid no attention to any of them; I was happy in a dead beat sort of way just to be inside and fairly warm and feel the blood start to go back into my feet.

We stayed there for thirty-seven hours. It was twenty-four hours before we got anything to eat.

Here was the way it went: the metal buildings, such as the Receiving Station, stood up. Very few of the stone buildings had, which we knew by then from the reports of all of us. The Power Station was out, and with it, the heat trap. They wouldn’t tell us anything about it except to say that it was being fixed.

In the mean time we were packed in tight as they could put us, keeping the place warm mainly by the heat from our bodies, sheep style. There were, they say, several power packs being used to heat the place, too, one being turned on every time the temperature in the room dropped below freezing. If so, I never got close to one and I don’t think it ever did get up to freezing where I was.

I would sit down and grab my knees and fall into a dopey sleep. Then a nightmare would wake me up and I’d get up and pound myself and walk around. After a while I’d sit down on the floor and freeze my fanny again.

I seem to remember encountering Noisy Edwards in the crowd and waving my finger under his nose and telling him I had an appointment to knock his block off. I seem to remember him staring back at me as if he couldn’t place me. But I don’t know; I may have dreamed it. I thought I ran across Hank, too, and had a long talk with him, but Hank told me afterwards that he never laid eyes on me the whole time.

After a long time–it seemed a week but the records show it was eight o’clock Sunday morning–they passed us out some lukewarm soup. It was wonderful. After that I wanted to leave the building to go to the hospital. I wanted to find Molly and see how Peggy was doing.

They wouldn’t let me. It was seventy below outside and still dropping. About twenty-two o’clock the lights came on and the worst was over.

We had a decent meal soon after that, sandwiches and soup, and when the Sun came up at midnight they announced that anybody could go outside who cared to risk it. I waited until noon Monday. By then it was up to twenty below and I made a dash for it to the hospital.

Peggy was doing as well as could be expected. Molly had stayed with her and had spent the time in bed with her, huddling up to her to keep her warm. While the hospital had emergency heat, it didn’t have the capacity to cope with any such disaster as had struck us; it was darn near as cold as the Receiving Station. But Peggy had come through it, sleeping most of the time. She even perked up enough to smile and say hello.

Molly’s left arm was in a sling and splinted. I asked how that happened–and then I felt foolish. It had happened in the quake itself but I hadn’t known it and George still didn t know about it; none of the engineers were back.

It didn’t seem possible that she could have done what she did, until I recalled that she carried the stretcher only after Dad had rigged the rope yokes. Molly is all right.

They chased me out and I high-tailed it back to the Receiving Station and ran into Sergei almost at once. He hailed me and I went over to him. He

had a pencil and a list and a number of the older fellows were gathered around him. “What’s up?” I said.

“Just the guy I’m looking for,” he said. “I had you down for dead. Disaster party–are you in?”

I was in, all right. The parties were made up of older Scouts, sixteen and up, and the younger men, We were sent out on the town’s tractors, one to each road, and we worked in teams of two. I spotted Hank Jones as we were loading and they let us make up a team.

It was grim work. For equipment we had shovels and lists–lists of who lived on which farm. Sometimes a name would have a notation “known to be alive,” but more often not. A team would be dropped off with the lists for three or four farms and the tractor would go on, to pick them up on the return trip.

Our job was to settle the doubt about those other names and–theoretically–to rescue anyone still alive. We didn’t find anyone alive.

The lucky ones had been killed in the quake; the unlucky ones had waited too long and didn’t make it into town. Some we found on the road; they had tried to make it but had started too late. The worst of all were those whose houses hadn’t fallen and had tried to stick it out. Hank and I found one couple just sitting, arms around each other. They were hard as rock.

When we found one, we would try to identify it on the list, then cover it up with snow, several feet deep, so it would keep for a while after it started to thaw.

When we settled with the people at a farm, we rummaged around and found all the livestock we could and carried or dragged their carcasses down to the road, to be toted into town on the tractor and slapped into deep freeze. It seemed a dirty job to do, robbing the dead, but, as Hank pointed out, we would all be getting a little hungry by and by.

Hank bothered me a little; he was merry about the whole thing. I guess it was better to laugh about it, in the long run, and after a while he had me doing it. It was just too big to soak up all at once and you didn’t dare let it get you.

But I should have caught on when we came to his own place. “We can skip it,” he said, and checked off the list. “Hadn’t we better check for livestock?” I said.

“Nope. We’re running short of time. Let’s move on to the Millers’ place.” “Did they get out?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see any of them in town.”

The Millers hadn’t gotten out; we barely had time to take care of them before the tractor picked us up. It was a week later that I found out that both of Hank’s parents had been killed in the quake. He had taken time to drag them out and put them into their ice cellar before he had headed for town.

Like myself, Hank had been outside when it hit, still looking at the line up. The fact that the big shock had occurred right after the line up had kept a lot of people from being killed in their beds–but they say that the line up caused the quake, triggered it, that is, with tidal strains, so I guess it sort of evens up. Of course, the line up didn’t actually make the quake; it had been building up to it ever since the beginning of the atmosphere project. Gravity’s books have got to balance.

The colony had had thirty-seven thousand people when the quake hit. The census when we finished it showed less than thirteen thousand. Besides that we had lost every crop, all or almost all the livestock. As Hank said, we’d all be a little hungry by and by.

They dumped us back at the Receiving Station and a second group of parties got ready to leave. I looked for a quiet spot to try to get some sleep. I was just dozing off, it seemed to me, when somebody shook me. It was Dad. “Are you all right, Bill?”

I rubbed my eyes. “I’m okay. Have you seen Molly and Peggy?”

“Just left them. I’m off duty for a few hours. Bill, have you seen anything of the Schultzes?”

I sat up, wide awake. “No. Have you?” “No.”

I told him what I had been doing and he nodded. “Go back to sleep, Bill. I’ll see if there has been a report on them.”

I didn’t go to sleep. He was back after a bit to say that he hadn’t been able to find out anything one way or another. “I’m worried, Bill.” “So am I.”

“I’m going out and check up.” “Let’s go.”

Dad shook his head. “No need for us both. You get some sleep.” I went along, just the same.

We were lucky. A disaster party was just heading down our road and we hitched a ride. Our own farm and the Schultz’s place were among those to be covered on this trip; Dad told the driver that we would check both places and report when we got back to town. That was all right with him.

They dropped us at the turn off and we trudged up toward the Schultz’s house. I began to get the horrors as we went. It’s one thing to pile snow over comparative strangers; it’s another thing entirely to expect to find Mama Schultz or Gretchen with their faces blue and stiff.

I didn’t visualize Papa as dead; people like Papa Schultz don’t die-they just go on forever. Or it feels like that. But I still wasn’t prepared for what we did find.

We had just come around a little hummock that conceals their house from the road. George stopped and said, “Well, the house is still standing. His quake-proofing held.”

I looked at it, then I stared–and then I yelled. “Hey, George! The Tree is gone!”

The house was there, but the apple tree–“the most beautiful tree on Ganymede”–was missing. Just gone. I began to run. We were almost to the house when the door opened. There stood Papa Schultz.

They were all safe, every one of them. What remained of the tree was ashes in the fireplace. Papa had cut it down as soon as the power went off and the temperature started to drop–and then had fed it, little by little, into the flames.

Papa, telling us about it, gestured at the blackened firebox. “Johann’s folly, they called it. I guess they will not think old Appleseed Johnny quite so foolish now, eh?” He roared and slapped Dad on the shoulders.

“But your tree,” I said stupidly.

“I will plant another, many others.” He stopped and was suddenly serious. “But your trees, William, your brave little baby trees–they are dead, not?” I said I hadn’t seen them yet. He nodded solemnly. “They are dead of the cold. Hugo!”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Fetch me an apple.” Hugo did so and Papa presented it to me. “You will plant again.” I nodded and stuck it in my pocket.

They were glad to hear that we were all right, though Mama clucked over Molly’s broken arm. Yo had fought his way over to our place during the first part of the storm, found that we were gone and returned, two frost bitten ears for his efforts. He was in town now to look for us.

But they were all right, every one of them. Even their livestock they had saved–cows, pigs, chickens, people, all huddled together throughout the

cold and kept from freezing by the fire from their tree.

The animals were back in the barn, now that power was on again, but the place still showed that they had been there–and smelled of it, too. I think Mama was more upset by the shambles of her immaculate living room than she was by the magnitude of the disaster. I don’t think she realized that most of her neighbors were dead. It hadn’t hit her yet.

Dad turned down Papa Schultz’s offer to come with us to look over our farm. Then Papa said he would see us on the tractor truck, as he intended to go into town and find out what he could do. We had mugs of Mama’s strong tea and some corn bread and left.

I was thinking about the Schultzes and how good it was to find them alive, as we trudged over to our place. I told Dad that it was a miracle. He shook his head. “Not a miracle. They are survivor types.”

“What type is a survivor type?” I asked.

He took a long time to answer that one. Finally he said, “Survivors survive. I guess that is the only way to tell the survivor type for certain.” I said. “We’re survivor types, too, in that case.”

“Could be,” he admitted. “At least we’ve come through this one.”

When I had left, the house was down. In the mean time I had seen dozens of houses down, yet it was a shock to me when we topped the rise and I saw that it really was down. I suppose I expected that after a while I would wake up safe and warm in bed and everything would be all right.

The fields were there, that was all that you could say for it. I scraped the snow off a stretch I knew was beginning to crop. The plants were dead of course and the ground was hard. I was fairly sure that even the earth worms were dead; they had had nothing to warn them to burrow below the frost line.

My little saplings were dead, of course.

We found two of the rabbits, huddled together and stiff, under a drift against what was left of the barn. We didn’t find any of the chickens except one, the first old hen we ever had. She had been setting and her nest wasn’t crushed and had been covered by a piece of the fallen roof of the barn. She was still on it, hadn’t moved and the eggs under her were frozen. I think that was what got me.

I was just a chap who used to have a farm.

Dad had been poking around the house. He came back to the barn and spoke to me. “Well, Bill?” I stood up. “George, I’ve had it.”

“Then let’s go back to town. The truck will be along shortly.” “I mean I’ve really had it!”

“Yes, I know.”

I took a look in Peggy’s room first, but Dad’s salvage had been thorough. My accordion was in there, however, with snow from the broken door drifted over the case. I brushed it off and picked it up. “Leave it,” Dad said. “It’s safe here and you’ve no place to put it.”

“I don’t expect to be back,” I said. “Very well.”

We made a bundle of what Dad had gotten together, added the accordion, the two rabbits and the hen, and carried it all down to the road. The tractor showed up presently, we got aboard and Dad chucked the rabbits and chicken on the pile of such that they had salvaged. Papa Schultz was waiting at his turnoff.

Dad and I tried to spot Mabel by the road on the trip back, but we didn’t find her. Probably she had been picked up by an earlier trip, seeing that she

was close to town. I was just as well pleased. All right, she had to be salvaged–but I didn’t want the job. I’m not a cannibal.

I managed to get some sleep and a bite to eat and was sent out on another disaster party. The colony began to settle down into some sort of routine. Those whose houses had stood up moved back into them and the rest of us were taken care of in the Receiving Station, much as we had been when our party landed. Food was short, of course, and Ganymede had rationing for the first time since the first colonials really got started.

Not that we were going to starve. In the first place there weren’t too many of us to feed and there had been quite a lot of food on hand. The real pinch would come later. It was decided to set winter back by three months, that is, start all over again with spring–which messed up the calendar from then on. But it would give us a new crop as quickly as possible to make up for the one that we had lost.

Dad stayed on duty with the engineer’s office. Plans called for setting up two more power plants, spaced around the equator, and each of them capable of holding the heat trap alone. The disaster wasn’t going to be allowed to happen again. Of course the installations would have to come from Earth, but we had been lucky on one score; Mars was in a position to relay for us. The report had gone into Earth at once and, instead of another load of immigrants, we were to get what we needed on the next trip.

Not that I cared. I had stayed in town, too, although the Schultzes had invited me to stay with them. I was earning my keep helping to rebuild and quakeproof the houses of the survivors. It had been agreed that we would all go back, George, Molly, Peggy, and me, on the first trip, if we could get space. It had been unanimous except that Peggy hadn’t been consulted; it just had to be.

We weren’t the only ones who were going back. The Colonial Commission had put up a squawk of course, but under the circumstances they had to give in. After it had been made official and the lists were opened Dad and I went over to the Commission agent’s office to put in our applications. We were about the last to apply; Dad had been out of town on duty and I had waited until he got back.

The office was closed with a “Back in a half hour” sign stuck on the door. We waited. There were bulletin boards outside the office; on them were posted the names of those who had applied for repatriation. I started reading them to kill time and so did Dad.

I found Saunders’ name there and pointed it out to George. He grunted and said, “No loss.” Noisy Edwards’ name was there, too; maybe I had seen him in the Receiving Station, although I hadn’t seen him since. It occurred to me that I could probably corner him in the ship and pay him back his lumps, but I wasn’t really interested in the project. I read on down.

I expected to find Hank Jones’ name there, but I couldn’t find it. I started reading the list carefully, paying attention to every name I recognized. I began to see a pattern.

Presently the agent got back and opened the door. Dad touched my arm. “Come on, Bill.” I said, “Wait a minute, George. You read all the names?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’ve been thinking. You know, George, I don’t like being classed with these lugs.” He chewed his lip. “I know exactly what you mean.”

I took the plunge. “You can do as you like, George, but I’m not going home, if I ever do, until I’ve licked this joint.”

Dad looked as unhappy as he could look. He was silent for a long time, then he said, “I’ve got to take Peggy back, Bill. She won’t go unless Molly and I go along. And she’s got to go.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You understand how it is, Bill?”

“Yes, Dad, I understand.” He went on in to make out his application, whistling a little tune he used to whistle just after Anne died. I don’t think he knew he was whistling it.

I waited for him and after a bit we went away together.

I moved back out to the farm the next day. Not to the Schultzes–to the farm. I slept in Peggy’s room and got busy fixing the place up and getting

ready to plant my emergency allowance of seed.

Then, about two weeks before they were to leave in the Covered Wagon, Peggy died, and there wasn’t any reason for any of us to go back to Earth.

Yo Schultz had been in town and Dad sent word back by him. Yo came over and woke me up and told me about it. I thanked him.

He wanted to know if I wanted to come back to the house with him. I said, no, thanks, that I would rather be alone. He made me promise to come over the next day and went away.

I lay back down on Peggy’s bed.

She was dead and there was nothing more I could do about it She was dead and it was all my fault … if I hadn’t encouraged her, they would have been able to get her to go back before it was too late. She would be back Earthside, going to school and growing up healthy and happy–right back in California, not here in this damned place where she couldn’t live, where human beings were never meant to live.

I bit the pillow and blubbered. I said, “Oh, Anne, Anne! Take care of her, Anne–She’s so little; she won’t know what to do.” And then I stopped bawling and listened, half way expecting Anne to answer me and tell me she would,

But I couldn’t hear anything, not at first … and what I did hear was only, “Stand tall, Billy,” . .. very faint and far away, “Stand tall, son.” After a while I got up and washed my face and started hoofing it back into town.

3.        Pioneer Party

We all lived in Peggy’s room until Dad and I had the seeds in, then we built on to it, quake proof this time and with a big view window facing the lake and another facing the mountains. We knocked a window in Peggy’s room, too; it made it seem like a different place.

We built on still another room presently, as it seemed as if we might be needing it. All the rooms had windows and the living room had a fireplace. Dad and I were terribly busy the second season after the quake. Enough seed could be had by then and we farmed the empty farm across the road

from us. Then some newcomers, the Ellises, moved in and paid us for the crop. It was just what they call a “book transaction,” but it reduced our

debt with the Commission.

Two G-years after the line up you would never have known that anything had happened. There wasn’t a wrecked building in the community, there were better than forty-five thousand people, and the town was booming. New people were coming in so fast that you could even sell some produce to the Commission in lieu of land.

We weren’t doing so badly, ourselves. We had a hive of bees. We had Mabel II, and Margie and Mamie, and I was sending the spare milk into town by the city transport truck that passed down our road once a day. I had broken Marge and Mamie to the yoke and used them for ploughing as well– we had crushed five more acres–and we were even talking about getting a horse.

Some people had horses already, the Schultzes for instance. The council had wrangled about it before okaying the “invasion,” with conservatives holding out for tractors. But we weren’t equipped to manufacture tractors yet and the policy was to make the planet self-sufficient–the hay burners won out. Horses can manufacture more horses and that is one trick that tractors have never learned.

Furthermore, though I would have turned my nose up at the idea when I was a ground hog back in Diego Borough, horse steak is very tasty.

It turned out we did need the extra room. Twins– both boys. New babies don’t look as if they were worth keeping, but they get over it–slowly. I bought a crib as a present for them, made right here on Ganymede, out of glass fabric stuck together with synthetic resin. It was getting possible to buy quite a number of home products.

I told Molly I would initiate the brats into the Cubs when they were old enough. I was getting in to meetings oftener now, for I had a patrol again–the Daniel Boone patrol, mostly new kids. I still hadn’t taken my own tests but you can’t do everything at once. Once I was scheduled to take them and a

litter of pigs picked that day to arrive. But I planned to take them; I wanted to be an Eagle Scout again, even if I was getting a little old to worry about badges in themselves.

It may sound as if the survivors didn’t give a hoot about those who had died in the disaster. But that isn’t the truth. It was just that you work from day to day and that keeps your mind busy. In any case, we weren’t the first colony to be two-thirds wiped out– and we wouldn’t be the last. You can grieve only so much; after that it’s self pity. So George says.

George still wanted me to go back to Earth to finish my education and I had been toying with the idea myself. I was beginning to realize that there were a few things I hadn’t learned. The idea was attractive; it would not be like going back right after the quake, tail between my legs. I’d be a property owner, paying my own way. The fare was considerable–five acres–and would about clean me out, my half, and put a load on George and Molly. But they were both for it.

Besides, Dad owned blocked assets back Earthside which would pay my way through school. They were no use to him otherwise; the only thing the Commission will accept as pay for imports is proved land. There was even a possibility, if the council won a suit pending back Earthside, that his blocked assets could be used for my fare as well and not cost us a square foot of improved soil. All in all, it was nothing to turn down idly.

We were talking about me leaving on the NewArk when another matter came up–the planetary survey.

Ganymede had to have settlements other than Leda; that was evident even when we landed. The Commission planned to set up two more ports-of- entry near the two new power stations and let the place grow from three centers. The present colonists were to build the new towns–receiving stations, hydroponics sheds, infirmaries, and so forth–and be paid for it in imports. Immigration would be stepped up accordingly, something that the Commission was very anxious to do, now that they had the ships to dump them in on us in quantity.

The old Jitterbug was about to take pioneer parties out to select sites and make plans–and both Hank and Sergei were going.

I wanted to go so bad I could taste it In the whole time I had been here I had never gotten fifty miles from Leda. Suppose somebody asked me what it was like on Ganymede when I got back on Earth? Truthfully, I wouldn’t be able to tell them; I hadn’t been any place.

I had had a chance, once, to make a trip to Barnard’s Moon, as a temporary employee of Project Jove–and that hadn’t worked out either. The twins. I stayed back and took care of the farm.

I talked it over with Dad.

“I hate to see you delay it any longer,” he said seriously. I pointed out that it would be only two months. “Hmmm–” he said. “Have you taken your merit badge tests yet?”

He knew I hadn’t; I changed the subject by pointing out that Sergei and Hank were going. “But they are both older than you are,” he answered.

“Not by very much!”

“But I think they are each over the age limit they were looking for–and you are just under.”

“Look, George,” I protested, “rules were made to be broken. I’ve heard you say that There must be some spot I can fill–cook, maybe.” And that’s just the job I got–cook.

I always have been a pretty fair cook–not in Mama Schultz’s class, but good. The party had nothing to complain about on that score.

Captain Hattie put us down at a selected spot nine degrees north of the equator and longitude 113 west–that is to say, just out of sight of Jupiter on the far side and about thirty-one hundred miles from Leda.

Mr. Hooker says that the average temperature of Ganymede will rise about nine degrees over the next century as more and more of the ancient ice melts–at which time Leda will be semi-tropical and the planet will be habitable half way to the poles. In the meantime colonies would be planted only at or near the equator.

I was sorry we had Captain Hattie as pilot; she is such an insufferable old scold. She thinks rocket pilots are a special race apart–supermen. At

least she acts like it.

Recently the Commission had forced her to take a relief pilot; there was just too much for one pilot to do. They had tried to force a check pilot on her, too–an indirect way to lead up to retiring her, but she was too tough for them. She threatened to take the Jitterbug up and crash it … and they didn’t dare call her bluff. At that time they were absolutely dependent on the Jitterbug.

Originally the Jitterbugs only purpose was for supply and passengers between Leda and the Project Jove station on Barnard’s Moon–but that was back in the days when ships from Earth actually landed at Leda. Then the Mayflower came along and the Jitterbug was pressed into service as a shuttle.

There was talk of another shuttle rocket but we didn’t have it yet, which is why Captain Hattie had them where it hurt. The Commission had visions of a loaded ship circling Ganymede, just going round and round and round again, with no way to get down, like a kitten stuck up in a tree.

I’ll say this for Hattie; she could handle her ship. I think she had nerve ends out in the skin of it. In clear weather she could even make a glide landing, in spite of our thin air. But I think she preferred to shake up her passengers with a jet landing.

She put us down, the Jitterbug took on more water mass, and away it bounced. She had three more parties to land. All in all the Jitterbug was servicing eight other pioneer parties. It would be back to pick us up in about three weeks.

The leader of our party was Paul du Maurier, who was the new assistant Scoutmaster of the Auslander troop and the chap who had gotten me taken on as cookie. He was younger than some of those working for him; furthermore, he shaved, which made him stand out like a white leghorn in a hog pen and made him look even younger. That is, he did shave, but he started letting his beard grow on this trip. “Better trim that grass,” I advised him.

He said, “Don’t you like my beard, Doctor Slop?” –that was a nickname he had awarded me for “Omnibus stew,” my own invention. He didn’t mean any harm by it.

I said, “Well, it covers your face, which is some help–but you might be mistaken for one of us colonial roughnecks. That wouldn’t do for one of you high-toned Commission boys.”

He smiled mysteriously and said, “Maybe that’s what I want.”

I said, “Maybe. But they’ll lock you up in a zoo if you wear it back to Earth.” He was due to go back for Earthside duty by the same trip I expected to make, via the Covered Wagon, two weeks after the end of the survey.

He smiled again and said, “Ah, yes, so they would,” and changed the subject. Paul was one of the most thoroughly good guys I have ever met and smart as a whip as well. He was a graduate of South Africa University with Post Grad on top of that at the System Institute on Venus–an ecologist, specializing in planetary engineering.

He handled that gang of rugged individualists without raising his voice. There is something about a real leader that makes it unnecessary for him to get tough.

But back to the survey–I didn’t see much of it as I was up to my elbows in pots and pans, but I knew what was going on. The valley we were in had been picked from photographs taken from the Jitterbug; it was now up to Paul to decide whether or not it was ideally suited to easy colonization.

It had the advantage of being in direct line-of-sight with power station number two, but that was not essential. Line-of-sight power relays could be placed anywhere on the mountains (no name, as yet) just south of us.

Most of the new villages would have to have power relayed anyhow. Aside from a safety factor for the heat trap there was no point in setting up extra power stations when the whole planet couldn’t use the potential of one mass-conversion plant.

So they got busy–an engineering team working on drainage and probable annual water resources, topographers getting a contour, a chemistry- agronomy team checking on what the various rock formations would make as soil, and a community architect laying out a town and farm and rocket port plot. There were several other specialists, too, like the mineralogist, Mr. Villa, who was doodlebugging the place for ores.

Paul was the “general specialist” who balanced all the data in his mind, fiddled with his slip stick, stared off into the sky, and came up with the over all answer. The over all answer for that valley was “nix”–and we moved on to the next one on the list, packing the stuff on our backs.

That was one of the few chances I got to look around. You see, we had landed at sunrise–about five o’clock Wednesday morning sunrise was, in

that longitude–and the object was to get as much done as possible during each light phase.

Jupiter light is all right for working in your own fields, but no good for surveying strange territory–and here we didn’t even have Jupiter light–just Callisto, every other dark phase, every twelve-and-half days, to be exact. Consequently we worked straight through light phase, on pep pills.

Now a man who is on the pills will eat more than twice as much as a man who is sleeping regularly. You know, the Eskimos have a saying, “Food is sleep.” I had to produce hot meals every four hours, around the clock. I had no time for sightseeing.

We got to camp number two, pitched our tents, I served a scratch meal, and Paul passed out sleeping pills. By then the Sun was down and we really died for about twenty hours. We were comfortable enough –spun glass pads under us and resin sealed glass canvas over us.

I fed them again, Paul passed out more sleepy pills, and back we went to sleep. Paul woke me Monday afternoon. This time I fixed them a light breakfast, then really spread myself to turn them out a feast. Everybody was well rested by now, and not disposed to want to go right back to bed. So I stuffed them.

After that we sat around for a few hours and talked. I got out my squeeze box–brought along by popular demand, that is to say, Paul suggested it– and gave ’em a few tunes. Then we talked some more.

They got to arguing about where life started and somebody brought up the old theory that the Sun had once been much brighter–Jock Montague, it was, the chemist. “Mark my words,” he said, “When we get around to exploring Pluto, you’ll find that life was there before us. Life is persistent, like mass-energy.”

“Nuts,” answered Mr. Villa, very politely. “Pluto isn’t even a proper planet; it used to be a satellite of Neptune.”

“Well, Neptune, then,” Jock persisted. “Life is all through the universe. Mark my words–when the Jove Project straightens out the bugs and gets going, they’ll even find life on the surface of Jupiter.”

“On Jupiter?” Mr. Villa exploded. “Please, Jock! Methane and ammonia and cold as a mother-in-law’s kiss. Don’t joke with us. Why, there’s not even light down under on the surface of Jupiter; it’s pitch dark.”

I said it and I’ll say it again,” Montague answered. “Life is persistent. Wherever there is mass and energy with conditions that permit the formation of large and stable molecules, there you will find life. Look at Mars. Look at Venus. Look at Earth–the most dangerous planet of the lot. Look at the Ruined Planet.”

I said, “What do you think about it, Paul?”

The boss smiled gently. “I don’t. I haven’t enough data.”

“There!” said Mr. Villa. “There speaks a wise man. Tell me, Jock, how did you get to be an authority on this subject?”

“I have the advantage,” Jock answered grandly, “of not knowing too much about the subject. Facts are always a handicap in philosophical debate.” That ended that phase of it, for Mr. Seymour, the boss agronomist, said, “I’m not so much worried about where life came from as where it is going–

here.”

“How?” I wanted to know. “In what way?”

“What are we going to make of this planet? We can make it anything we want. Mars and Venus–they had native cultures. We dare not change them much and we’ll never populate them very heavily. These Jovian moons are another matter; it’s up to us. They say man is endlessly adaptable. I say on the contrary that man doesn’t adapt himself as much as he adapts his environment. Certainly we are doing so here. But how?”

“I thought that was pretty well worked out,” I said. “We set up these new centers, more people come in and we spread out, same as at Leda.”

“Ah, but where does it stop? We have three ships making regular trips now. Shortly there will be a ship in every three weeks, then it will be every week, then every day. Unless we are almighty careful there will be food rationing here, same as on Earth. Bill, do you know how fast the population is increasing, back Earthside?”

I admitted that I didn’t

“More than one hundred thousand more persons each day than there were the day before. Figure that up.”

I did. “That would be, uh, maybe fifteen, twenty shiploads a day. Still, I imagine they could build ships to carry them.”

“Yes, but where would we put them? Each day, more than twice as many people landing as there are now on this whole globe. And not just on Monday, but on Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday–and the week and the month and the year after that, just to keep Earth’s population stable. I tell you, it won’t work. The day will come when we will have to stop immigration entirely.” He looked around aggressively, like a man who expects to be contradicted.

He wasn’t disappointed. Somebody said, “Oh, Seymour, come off it! Do you think you own this place just because you got here first? You snuck in while the rules were lax.”

“You can’t argue with mathematics,” Seymour insisted. “Ganymede has got to be made self-sufficient as soon as possible–and then we’ve got to slam the door!”

Paul was shaking his head. “It won’t be necessary.”

“Huh?” said Seymour. “Why not? Answer me that. You represent the Commission: what fancy answer has the Commission got?”

“None,” Paul told him. “And your figures are right but your conclusions are wrong. Oh, Ganymede has to be made self-sufficient, true enough, but your bogeyman about a dozen or more shiploads of immigrants a day you can forget.”

“Why, if I may be so bold?”

Paul looked around the tent and grinned apologetically. “Can you stand a short dissertation on population dynamics? I’m afraid I don’t have Jock’s advantage; this is a subject I am supposed to know something about.”

Somebody said, “Stand back. Give him air.”

“Okay,” Paul went on, “you brought it on yourselves. A lot of people have had the idea that colonization is carried on with the end purpose of relieving the pressure of people and hunger back on Earth. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

I said. “Huh?”

“Bear with me. Not only is it physically impossible for a little planet to absorb the increase of a big planet, as Seymour pointed out, but there is another reason why well never get any such flood of people as a hundred thousand people a day–a psychological reason. There are never as many people willing to emigrate (even if you didn’t pick them over) as there are new people born. Most people simply will not leave home. Most of them won’t even leave their native villages, much less go to a far planet.”

Mr. Villa nodded. “I go along with you on that The willing emigrant is an odd breed of cat. He’s scarce.”

“Right,” Paul agreed. “But let’s suppose for a moment that a hundred thousand people were willing to emigrate every day and Ganymede and the other colonies could take them. Would that relieve the situation back home–I mean “back Earthside’? The answer is, ‘No, it wouldn’t’.”

He appeared to have finished. I finally said, “Excuse my blank look, Paul, but why wouldn’t it?” “Studied any bionomics, Bill?”

“Some.”

“Mathematical population bionomics?” “Well-no.”

“But you do know that in the greatest wars the Earth ever had there were always more people after the war than before, no matter how many were killed. Life is not merely persistent, as Jock puts it; life is explosive.

The basic theorem of population mathematics to which there has never been found an exception is that population increases always, not merely up to extent of the food supply, but beyond it, to the minimum diet that will sustain life–the ragged edge of starvation.

In other words, if we bled off a hundred thousand people a day, the Earth’s population would then grow until the increase was around two hundred thousand a day, or the bionomical maximum for Earth’s new ecological dynamic.”

Nobody said anything for a moment; there wasn’t anything to say. Presently Sergei spoke up with, “You paint a grim picture, boss. What’s the answer?”

Paul said, “There isn’t any!”

Sergei said, “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, what is the outcome?”

When Paul did answer it was just one word, one monosyllable, spoken so softly that it would not have been heard if there had not been dead silence. What he said was:

“War.”

There was a shuffle and a stir; it was an unthinkable idea. Seymour said, “Come now, Mr. du Maurier–I may be a pessimist, but I’m not that much of one. Wars are no longer possible.”

Paul said, “So?”

Seymour answered almost belligerently, “Are you trying to suggest that the Space Patrol would let us down? Because that is the only way a war could happen.”

Paul shook his head. “The Patrol won’t let us down. But they won’t be able to stop it. A police force is all right for stopping individual disturbances; it’s fine for nipping things in the bud. But when the disturbances are planet wide, no police force is big enough, or strong enough, or wise enough. They’ll try–they’ll try bravely. They won’t succeed.”

“You really believe that?”

“It’s my considered opinion. And not only my opinion, but the opinion of the Commission. Oh, I don’t mean the political board; I mean the career scientists.”

“Then what in tarnation is the Commission up to?”

“Building colonies. We think that is worthwhile in itself. The colonies need not be affected by the War. In fact, I don’t think they will be, not much. It will be like America was up to the end of the nineteenth century; European troubles passed her by.

I rather expect that the War, when it comes, will be of such size and duration that interplanetary travel will cease to be for a considerable period. That is why I said this planet has got to be self-sufficient. It takes a high technical culture to maintain interplanetary travel and Earth may not have it– after a bit.”

I think Paul’s ideas were a surprise to everyone present; I know they were to me. Seymour jabbed a finger at him, “If you believe this, then why are you going back to Earth? Tell me that.”

Again Paul spoke softly. “I’m not. I’m going to stay here and become a ‘steader.” Suddenly I knew why he was letting his beard grow.

Seymour answered, “Then you expect it soon.” It was not a question; it was a statement.

“Having gone this far,” Paul said hesitantly, “I’ll give you a direct answer. War is not less than forty Earth years away, not more than seventy.”

You could feel a sigh of relief all around the place. Seymour continued to speak for us, “Forty to seventy, you say. But that’s no reason to

homestead; you probably wouldn’t live to see it. Not but what you’d make a good neighbor.”

“I see this War,” Paul insisted. “I know it’s coming. Should I leave it up to my hypothetical children and grandchildren to outguess it? No. Here I rest. If I marry, I’ll marry here. I’m not raising any kids to be radioactive dust.”

It must have been about here that Hank stuck his head in the tent, for I don’t remember anyone answering Paul. Hank had been outside on business of his own; now he opened the flap and called out, “Hey gents! Europa is up!”

We all trooped out to see. We went partly through embarrassment, I think; Paul had been too nakedly honest. But we probably would have gone anyhow. Sure, we saw Europa every day of our lives at home, but not the way we were seeing it now.

Since Europa goes around Jupiter inside Ganymede’s orbit, it never gets very far away from Jupiter, if you call 39 degrees “not very far.” Since we were 113 west longitude, Jupiter was 23 degrees below our eastern horizon–which meant that Europa, when it was furthest west of Jupiter, would be a maximum of 16 degrees above the true horizon.

Excuse the arithmetic. Since we had a row of high hills practically sitting on us to the east, what all this means is that, once a week, Europa would rise above the hills, just peeking over, hang there for about a day–then turn around and set in the east, right where it had risen. Up and down like an elevator.

If you’ve never been off Earth, don’t tell me it’s impossible. That’s how it is–Jupiter and its moons do some funny things.

It was the first time it had happened this trip, so we watched it–a little silver boat, riding the hills like waves, with its horns turned up. There was argument about whether or not it was still rising, or starting to set again, and much comparing of watches. Some claimed to be able to detect motion but they weren’t agreed on which way. After a while I got cold and went back in.

But I was glad of the interruption. I had a feeling that Paul had said considerably more than he had intended to and more than he would be happy to recall, come light phase. I blamed it on the sleeping pills. Sleeping pills are all right when necessary, but they tend to make you babble and tell your right name-treacherous things.

4.        The Other People

By the end of the second light phase it was clear-to Paul, anyhow–that this second valley would do. It wasn’t the perfect valley and maybe there was a better one just over the ridge–but life is too short. Paul assigned it a score of 92% by some complicated system thought up by the Commission, which was seven points higher than passing. The perfect valley could wait for the colonials to find it … which they would, some day.

We named the valley Happy Valley, Just for luck, and named the mountains south of it the Pauline Peaks, over Paul’s protests. He said it wasn’t official anyway; we said we would see to it that it was made so–and the boss topographer, Abie Finkelstein, marked it so on the map and we all intialed it

We spent the third light phase rounding up the details. We could have gone back then, if there had been any way to get back. There wasn’t, so we had to dope through another dark phase.

Some of them preferred to go back on a more normal schedule instead; there was a round-the-clock poker game, which I stayed out of, having nothing I could afford to lose and no talent for filling straights. There were more dark phase bull sessions but they never got as grave as the first one and nobody ever again asked Paul what he thought about the future prospects of things.

By the end of the third dark phase I was getting more than a little tired of seeing nothing but the inside of our portable range. I asked Paul for some time off.

Hank had been helping me since the start of the third dark phase. He had been working as a topographical assistant; flash contour pictures were on the program at the start of that dark phase. He was supposed to get an open-lens shot across the valley from an elevation on the south just as a sunburst flash was let off from an elevation to the west.

Hank had a camera of his own, just acquired, and he was shutter happy, always pointing it at things. This time he had tried to get a picture of his own as well as the official picture. He had goofed off, missed the official picture entirely, and to top it off had failed to protect his eyes when the sunburst went off. Which put him on the sick list and I got him as kitchen police.

He was all right shortly, but Finkelstein didn’t want him back. So I asked for relief for both of us, so we could take a hike together and do a little

exploring. Paul let us go.

There had been high excitement at the end of the second light phase when lichen had been discovered near the west end of the valley. For a while it looked as if native life had been found on Ganymede. It was a false alarm–careful examination showed that it was not only an Earth type, but a type authorized by the bionomics board.

But it did show one thing–life was spreading, taking hold, at a point thirty-one hundred miles from the original invasion. There was much argument as to whether the spores had been air borne, or had been brought in on the clothing of the crew who had set up the power plant. It didn’t matter, really.

But Hank and I decided to explore off that way and see if we could find more of it. Besides it was away from the way we had come from camp number one. We didn’t tell Paul we were going after lichen because we were afraid he would veto it; the stuff had been found quite some distance from camp. He had warned us not to go too far and to be back by six o’clock Thursday morning, in time to break camp and head back to our landing point, where the Jitterbug was to meet us.

I agreed as I didn’t mean to go far in any case. I didn’t much care whether we found lichen or not; I wasn’t feeling well. But I kept that fact to myself; I wasn’t going to be done out of my one and only chance to see some of the country.

We didn’t find any more lichen. We did find the crystals.

We were trudging along, me as happy as a kid let out of school despite an ache in my side and Hank taking useless photographs of odd rocks and lava flows. Hank had been saying that he thought he would sell out his place and homestead here in Happy Valley. He said, “You know, Bill, they are going to need a few real Ganymede farmers here to give the greenhorns the straight dope. And who knows more about Ganymede-style farming than I do?”

“Almost everybody,” I assured him.

He ignored it. “This place has really got it,” he went on, gazing around at a stretch of country that looked like Armageddon after a hard battle. “Much better than around Leda.”

I admitted that it had possibilities. “But I don’t think it’s for me,” I went on. “I don’t think I’d care to settle anywhere where you can’t see Jupiter.” “Nonsense!” he answered. “Did you come here to stare at the sights or to make a farm?”

“That’s a moot point,” I admitted. “Sometimes I think one thing, sometimes the other. Sometimes I don’t have the foggiest idea.” He wasn’t listening. “See that slot up there?”

“Sure. What about it?”

“If we crossed that little glacier, we could get up to it.” “Why?”

“I think it leads into another valley–which might be even better. Nobody has been up there. I know–I was in the topo gang.”

“I’ve been trying to help you forget that,” I told him. “But why look at all? There must be a hundred thousand valleys on Ganymede that nobody has looked at. Are you in the real estate business?” It didn’t appeal to me. There is something that gets you about virgin soil on Ganymede; I wanted to stay in sight of camp. It was quiet as a library–quieter. On Earth there is always some sound, even in the desert. After a while the stillness and the bare rocks and the ice and the craters get on my nerves.

“Come on! Don’t be a sissyl” he answered, and started climbing.

The slot did not lead to another valley; it led into a sort of corridor in the hills. One wall was curiously flat, as if it had been built that way on purpose. We went along it a way, and I was ready to turn back and had stopped to call to Hank, who had climbed the loose rock on the other side to get a picture. As I turned, my eye caught some color and I moved up to see what it was. It was the crystals.

I stared at them and they seemed to stare back. I called, “Hey! Hank! Come here on the bounce!”

“What’s up?”

“Come here! Here’s something worth taking a picture of.”

He scrambled down and joined me. After a bit he let out his breath and whispered, “Well, I’ll be fried on Friday!”

Hank got busy with his camera. I never saw such crystals, not even stalactites in caves. They were six-sided, except a few that were three-sided and some that were twelve-sided. They came anywhere from little squatty fellows no bigger than a button mushroom up to tall, slender stalks, knee high. Later on and further up we found some chest high.

They were not simple prisms; they branched and budded. But the thing that got you was the colors.

They were all colors and they changed color as you looked at them. We finally decided that they didn’t have any color at all; it was just refraction of light. At least Hank thought so.

He shot a full cartridge of pictures then said, “Come on. Let’s see where they come from.”

I didn’t want to. I was shaky from the climb and my right side was giving me fits every step I took. I guess I was dizzy, too; when I looked at the crystals they seemed to writhe around and I would have to blink my eyes to steady them.

But Hank had already started so I followed. The crystals seemed to keep to what would have been the water bed of the canyon, had it been spring. They seemed to need water. We came to a place where there was a drift of ice across the floor of the corridor –ancient ice, with a thin layer of last winter’s snow on top of it. The crystals had carved a passage right through it, a natural bridge of ice, and had cleared a space of several feet on each side of where they were growing, as well.

Hank lost his footing as we scrambled through and snatched at one of the crystals. It broke off with a sharp, clear note, like a silver bell. Hank straightened up and stood looking at his hand. There were parallel cuts across his palm and fingers. He stared at them stupidly. “That’ll teach you,” I said, and then got out a first-lid kit and bandaged it for him. When I had finished I said, “Now let’s go back.” “Shucks,” he said. “What’s a few little cuts? Come

I said, “Look, Hank, I want to go back. I don’t feel good.” “What’s the matter?”

“Stomach ache.”

“You eat too much; that’s your trouble. The exercise will do you good.” “No, Hank. I’ve got to go back.”

He stared up the ravine and looked fretful. Finally he said, “Bill, I think I see where the crystals come from, not very far up. You wait here and let me take a look. Then I’ll come back and well head for camp. I won’t be gone long; honest I won’t.”

“Okay,” I agreed. He started up; shortly I followed him. I had had it pounded into my head as a Cub not to get separated in a strange country. After a bit I heard him shout. I looked up and saw him standing, facing a great dark hole in the cliff. I called out, “What’s the matter?”

He answered:

“GREAT JUMPING HOLY SMOKE!!!”-like that.

“What’s the matter?” I repeated irritably and hurried along until I was standing beside him.

The crystals continued up the place where we were. They came right to the cave mouth, but did not go in; they formed a solid dense thicket across the threshold. Lying across the floor of the ravine, as if it had been tumbled there by an upheaval like the big quake, was a flat rock, a monolith, Stonehenge size. You could see where it had broken off the cliff, uncovering the hole. The plane of cleavage was as sharp and smooth as anything done by the ancient Egyptians.

But that wasn’t what we were looking at; we were looking into the hole.

It was dark inside, but diffused light, reflected off the canyon floor and the far wall, filtered inside. My eyes began to adjust and I could see what Hank was staring at, what he had exploded about.

There were things in there and they weren’t natural

I couldn’t have told you what sort of things because they were like nothing I had ever seen before in my life, or seen pictures of–or heard of. How can you describe what you’ve never seen before and have no words for? Shucks, you can’t even see a thing properly the first time you see it; your eye doesn’t take in the pattern.

But I could see this: they weren’t rocks, they weren’t plants, they weren’t animals. They were made things, man made–well, maybe not “man” made, but not things that just happen, either.

I wanted very badly to get up close to them and see what they were. For the moment, I forgot I was sick. So did Hank. As usual he said, “Come onl Let’s go!”

But I said, “How?”

“Why, we just–” He stopped and took another look. “Well, let’s see, we go around– No. Hmm … Bill, we will have to bust up some of those crystals and go right through the middle. There’s no other way to get in.”

I said, “Isn’t one chopped up hand enough for you?”

“I’ll bust ’em with a rock. It seems a shame; they are so pretty, but that’s what I’ll have to do.”

“I don’t think you can bust those big ones. Besides that, I’ll give you two to one that they are sharp enough to cut through your boots.”

“I’ll chance it.” He found a chunk of rock and made an experiment; I was right on both counts. Hank stopped and looked the situation over, whistling softly. “Bill–“

“Yeah?”

“See that little ledge over the opening?” “What about it?”

“It comes out to the left further than the crystals do. I’m going to pile rock up high enough for us to reach it, then we can go along it and drop down right in front of the cave mouth. The crystals don’t come that close.”

I looked it over and decided it would work. “But how do we get back?”

“We can pile up some of that stuff we can see inside and shinny up again. At the very worst I can boost you up on my shoulders and then you can reach down your belt to me, or something.”

If I had my wits about me, maybe I would have protested. But we tried it and it worked–worked right up to the point where I was hanging by my fingers from the ledge over the cave mouth.

I felt a stabbing pain in my side and let go.

I came to with Hank shaking me. “Let me alone!” I growled.

“You knocked yourself out,” he said. “I didn’t know you were so clumsy.” I didn’t answer. I just gathered my knees up to my stomach and closed my eyes.

Hank shook me again. “Don’t you want to see what’s in here?”

I kicked at him. “I don’t want to see the Queen of Sheba! Can’t you see I’m sick?” I closed my eyes again.

I must have passed out. When I woke up, Hank was sitting Turk fashion in front of me, with my torch in his hand. “You’ve been asleep a long time, fellow,” he said gently. “Feel any better?”

“Not much.”

‘Try to pull yourself together and come along with me. You’ve got to see this, Bill. You won’t believe it. This is the greatest discovery since–well, since– Never mind; Columbus was a piker. We’re famous, Bill.”

“You may be famous,” I said. “I’m sick.” “Where does it hurt?”

“All over. My stomach is hard as a rock–a rock with a toothache.” “Bill,” he said seriously, “have you ever had your appendix out?” “No.”

“Hmmm … maybe you should have had it out.” “Well, this is a fine time to tell me!”

“Take it easy.”

“Take it easy, my foot!” I got up on one elbow, my head swimming. “Hank, listen to me. You’ve got to get back to camp and tell them. Have them send a tractor for me.”

“Look, Bill,” he said gently, “you know there isn’t anything like a tractor at camp.”

I tried to struggle with the problem but it was too much for me. My brain was fuzzy. “Well, have them bring a stretcher, at least,” I said peevishly and lay down again.

Some time later I felt him fumbling around with my clothes. I tried to push him away, then I felt something very cold on me. I took a wild swing at him; it didn’t connect.

“Steady,” he said. “I have found some ice. Don’t squirm around or you’ll knock off the pack.” “I don’t want it.”

“You’ve got to have it. You keep that ice pack in place until we get out of here and you may live to be hanged, yet.”

I was too feeble to resist. I lay back down and closed my eyes again. When I opened my eyes again, I was amazed to feel better. Instead of feeling ready to die, I merely felt awful. Hank wasn’t around; I called to him. When he didn’t answer at once I felt panicky.

Then he came trotting up, waving the torch. “I thought you had gone,” I said.

“No. To tell the truth, I can’t get out of here. I can’t get back up to the ledge and I can’t get over the crystals. I tried it.” He held up one boot; it was in

shreds and there was blood on it.

“Hurt yourself?” “I’ll live.”

“I wonder,” I answered. “Nobody knows we are here–and you say we can’t get out. Looks like we starve. Not that I give a hoot.” ‘Speaking of that,” he said. “I saved you some of our lunch. I’m afraid I didn’t leave much; you were asleep a long, long time.” “Don’t mention food!” I retched and grabbed at my side.

“Sorry. But look–I didn’t say we couldn’t get out” “But you did.”

“No, I said I couldn’t get out.” “What’s the difference?”

“Uh, never mind. But I think we’ll get out. It was what you said about getting a tractor–” “Tractor? Are you out of your head?”

“Skip it,” Bill answered. “There is a sort of tractor thing back there–or more like a scaffolding, maybe.” “Make up your mind.”

“Call it a wagon. I think I can get it out, at least across the crystals. We could use it as a bridge.” “Well, roll it out.”

“It doesn’t roll. It, uh-well, it walks.”

I tried to get up. “This I got to see.”

“Just move over out of the way of the door.”

I managed to get to my feet, with Hank helping me. “I’m coming along.” “Want the ice pack changed?”

“Later, maybe.” Hank took me back and showed me. I don’t know how to describe the walker wagon-maybe you’ve seen pictures since. If a centipede were a dinosaur and made of metal to boot, it would be a walker wagon. The body of it was a sort of trough and it was supported by thirty-eight legs, nineteen on a side.

“That,” I said, “is the craziest contraption I ever laid eyes on. You’ll never shove it out the door.”

“Wait until you see,” he advised. “And if you think this is crazy, you should see the other things in here.” “Such as?”

“Bill, you know what I think this place is? I think it’s a hangar for a space ship.”

“Huh? Don’t be silly; space ships don’t have hangars.”

“This one has.”

“You mean you sawa space ship in here?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s not like any I ever saw before, but if it’s not a space ship, I don’t know what it is good for.” I wanted to go see, but Hank objected. “Another time, Bill; we’ve got to get back to camp. We’re late as it is.”

I didn’t put up any fight. My side was paining me again, from the walk. “Okay, what happens next?”

“Like this.” He led me around to the end of the contraption; the trough came nearly down to the floor in back. Hank helped me get inside, told me to lie down, and went up to the other end. ‘The guy that built this,” he said, “must have been a hump-backed midget with four arms. Hang on.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

“I moved it about six feet before; then I lost my nerve. Abracadabra! Hold onto your hat!” He poked a finger deep into a hole.

The thing began to move, silently, gently, without any fuss. When we came out into the sunshine, Hank pulled his finger out of the hole. I sat up. The thing was two thirds out of the cave and the front end was beyond the crystals.

I sighed. “You made it, Hank, Let’s get going. If I had some more ice on my side I think I could walk.” “Wait a second,” he said. “I want to try something. There are holes here I haven’t stuck a finger in yet.” “Leave well enough alone.”

Instead of answering he tried another hole. The machine backed up suddenly. “Woopsl” he said, jerked his finger out, and jabbed it back where it had been before. He left it there until he regained what we had lost.

He tried other holes more cautiously. At last he found one which caused the machine to rear up its front end slightly and swing it to the left, like a caterpillar. “Now we are in business,” he said happily. “I can steer it.” We started down the canyon.

Hank was not entirely correct in thinking he could guide it. It was more like guiding a horse than a machine–or perhaps more like guiding one of those new groundmobiles with the semi-automatic steering.

The walker wagon came to the little natural bridge of ice through which the crystals passed and stopped of itself. Hank tried to get it to go through the opening, which was large enough; it would have none of it. The front end cast around like a dog sniffing, then eased gradually up hill and around the ice.

It stayed level; apparently it could adjust its legs, like the fabulous hillside snee.

When Hank came to the ice flow we had crossed on the way up to the notch, he stopped it and gave me a fresh ice pack. Apparently it did not object to ice in itself, but simply refused to go through holes, for when we started up again, it crossed the little glacier, slowly and cautiously, but steadily.

We headed on toward camp. “This,” Hank announced happily, “is the greatest cross-country, rough-terrain vehicle ever built. I wish I knew what makes it go. If I had the patent on this thing, I’d be rich.”

“It’s yours; you found it.”

“It doesn’t really belong to me.”

“Hank,” I answered, “you don’t really think the owner is going to come back looking for it, do you?”

He got a very odd look. “No, I don’t, Bill. Say, Bill, uh, how long ago do you think this thing was put in there?”

“I wouldn’t even want to guess.”

There was only one tent at the camp site. As we came up to it, somebody came out and waited for us. It was Sergei. “Where have you guys been?” he asked. “And where in Kingdom Come did you steal that?

“And what is it?” he added.

We did our best to bring him up to date, and presently he did the same for us. They had searched for us as long as they could, then Paul had been forced to move back to camp number one to keep the date with the Jitterbug. He had left Sergei behind to fetch us when we showed up. “He left a note for you,” Sergei added, digging it out

It read:

“Dear Pen Pals,

I am sorry to go off and leave you crazy galoots but you know the schedule as well as I do. I would stay behind myself to herd you home, but your pal Sergei insists that it is his privilege. Every time I try to reason with him he crawls further back into his hole, bares his teeth, and growls.

As soon as you get this, get your chubby little legs to moving in the direction of camp number one. Run, do not walk. We’ll hold the Jitterbug, but you knowhowdear old Aunt Hattie feels about keeping her schedule. She isn’t going to like it if you are late.

When I see you, I intend to beat your ears down around your shoulders. Good luck,

P. du M.

P. S. to Doctor Slop: I took care of your accordion.”

When we had finished reading it Sergei said, “I want to hear more about what you found–about eight times more. But not now; we’ve got to tear over to camp number one. Hank, you think Bill can’t walk it?”

I answered for myself, an emphatic “no.” The excitement was wearing off and I was feeling worse again. “Hmm–Hank, do you think that mobile junk yard will carry us over there?”

“I think it will carry us any place.” Hank patted it. “How fast? The Jitterbug has already grounded.” “Are you sure?” asked Hank.

“I saw its trail in the sky at least three hours ago.” “Let’s get going!”

I don’t remember much about the trip. They stopped once in the pass, and packed me with ice again. The next thing I knew I was awakened by hearing Sergei shout, “There’s the Jitterbug! I can see it.”

“Jitterbug, here we come,” answered Hank. I sat up and looked, too.

We were coming down the slope, not five miles from it, when flame burst from its tail and it climbed for the sky. Hank groaned. I lay back down and closed my eyes.

I woke up again when the contraption stopped. Paul was there, hands on his hips, staring at us. “About time you birds got home,” he announced. “But where did you find that?

“Paul,” Hank said urgently, “Bill is very sick.”

“Oh, oh!” Paul swung up and into the walker and made no more questions then. A moment later he had my belly bared and was shoving a thumb into that spot between the belly button and the hip bone. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

I was too weak to slug him. He gave me a pill.

I took no further part in events for a while, but what had happened was this: Captain Hattie had waited, at Paul’s urgent insistence, for a couple of hours, and then had announced that she had to blast. She had a schedule to keep with the Covered Wagon and she had no intention, she said, of keeping eight thousand people waiting for the benefit of two. Hank and I could play Indian if we liked; we couldn’t play hob with her schedule.

There was nothing Paul could do, so he sent the rest back and waited for us.

But I didn’t hear this at the time. I was vaguely aware that we were in the walker wagon, travelling, and I woke up twice when I was repacked with ice, but the whole episode is foggy. They travelled east, with Hank driving and Paul navigating–by the seat of his pants. Some long dreamy time later they reached a pioneer camp surveying a site over a hundred miles away–and from there Paul radioed for help.

Whereupon the Jitterbug came and got us. I remember the landing back at Leda–that is, I remember somebody saying, “Hurry, there! We’ve got a boy with a burst appendix.”

5.        Home

There was considerable excitement over what we had found–and there still is–but I didn’t see any of it. I was busy playing games with the Pearly Gates. I guess I have Dr. Archibald to thank for still being here. And Hank. And Sergei. And Paul. And Captain Hattie. And some nameless party, who lived somewhere, a long time ago, whose shape and race I still don’t know, but who designed the perfect machine for traveling overland through rough country.

I thanked everybody but him. They all came to see me in the hospital, even Captain Hattie, who growled at me, then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as she left. I was so surprised I almost bit her.

The Schultzes came, of course, and Mama cried over me and Papa gave me an apple and Gretchen could hardly talk, which isn’t like her. And Molly brought the twins down to see me and vice versa.

The Leda daily Planet interviewed me. They wanted to know whether or not we thought the things we found were made by men? Now that is a hard question to answer and smarter people than myself have worked on it since.

What is a man?

The things Hank and I–and the Project Jove scientists who went later–found in that cave couldn’t have been made by men–not men like us. The walker wagon was the simplest thing they found. Most of the things they still haven’t found out the use for. Nor have they figured out what the creatures looked like–no pictures.

That seems surprising, but the scientists concluded they didn’t have eyes–not eyes like ours, anyhow. So they didn’t use pictures.

The very notion of a “picture” seems pretty esoteric when you think it over. The Venetians don’t use pictures, nor the Martians. Maybe we are the only race in the universe that thought up that way of recording things.

So they weren’t “men”–not like us.

But they were men in the real sense of the word, even though I don’t doubt that I would run screaming away if I met one in a dark alley. The important thing, as Mr. Seymour would say, they had–they controlled their environment. They weren’t animals, pushed around and forced to accept what

nature handed them; they took nature and bent it to their will.

I guess they were men.

The crystals were one of the oddest things about it and I didn’t have any opinions on that. Somehow, those crystals were connected with that cave– or space ship hangar, or whatever it was. Yet they couldn’t or wouldn’t go inside the cave.

Here was another point that the follow-up party from Project Jove recorded: that big unwieldly walker wagon came all the way down that narrow canyon-yet it did not step on a single crystal. Hank must be a pretty good driver. He says he’s not that good.

Don’t ask me. I don’t understand everything that goes on in the universe. It’s a big place.

I had lots of time to think before they let me out of the hospital–and lots to think about. I thought about my coming trip to Earth, to go back to school I had missed the Covered Wagon, of course, but that didn’t mean anything; I could take the Mayflower three weeks later. But did I want to go? It was a close thing to decide.

One thing I was sure of: I was going to take those merit badge tests as soon as I was out of bed. I had put it off too long. A close brush with the hereafter reminds you that you don’t have forever to get things done.

But going back to school? That was another matter. For one thing, as Dad told me, the council had lost its suit with the Commission; Dad couldn’t use his Earthside assets.

And there was the matter that Paul had talked about the night he had to let his hair down–the coming war.

Did Paul know what he was talking about? If so, was I letting it scare me out? I honestly didn’t think so; Paul had said that it was not less than forty years away. I wouldn’t be Earthside more than four or five years–and, besides, how could you get scared of anything that far in the future?

I had been through the Quake and the reconstruction; I didn’t really think I’d ever be scared of anything again.

I had a private suspicion that, supposing there was a war, I’d go join up; I wouldn’t be running away from it. Silly, maybe.

No, I wasn’t afraid of the War, but it was on my mind. Why? I finally doped it out. When Paul called I asked him about it. “See here, Paul–this war you were talking about: when Ganymede reaches the state that Earth has gotten into, does that mean war here, too? Not now–a few centuries from now.”

He smiled rather sadly. “By then we may know enough to keep from getting into that shape. At least we can hope.” He got a far-away look and added, “A new colony is always a new hope.”

I liked that way of putting it. “A new hope–” Once I heard somebody call a new baby that.

I still didn’t have the answer about going back when Dad called on me one Sunday night. I put it up to him about the cost of the fare. “I know the land is technically mine, George–but it’s too much of a drain on you two.”

“Contrariwise,” said George, “well get by and that’s what savings are for. Molly is for it. We will be sending the twins back for school, you know.” “Even so, I don’t feel right about it. And what real use is there in it, George? I don’t need a fancy education. I’ve been thinking about Callisto: there’s

a brand new planet not touched yet with great opportunities for a man in on the ground floor. I could get a job with the atmosphere expedition–Paul

would put in a word for me–and grow up with the project. I might be chief engineer of the whole planet some day.”

“Not unless you learn more about thermodynamics than you do now, you won’t be!” “Huh?”

“Engineers don’t just ‘grow up’; they study. They go to school.”

“Don’t I study? Ain’t I attending two of your classes right now? I can get to be an engineer here; I don’t have to drag back half a billion miles for it.”

“Fiddlesticks! It takes discipline to study. You haven’t even taken your merit badge tests. You’ve let your Eagle Scoutship lapse.”

I wanted to explain that taking tests and studying for tests were two different things–that I had studied. But I couldn’t seem to phrase it right.

George stood up. “See here, Son, I’m going to put it to you straight. Never mind about being chief engineer of a planet; these days even a farmer needs the best education he can get. Without it he’s just a country bumpkin, a stumbling peasant, poking seeds into the ground and hoping a miracle will make them grow.

I want you to go back to Earth and get the best that Earth has to offer. I want you to have a degree with prestige behind it–M.I.T., Harvard, the Sorbonne. Some place noted for scholarship. Take the time to do that and then do anything you want to do. Believe me, it will pay.”

I thought about it and answered, “I guess you are right, George.”

Dad stood up. “Well, make up your mind. I’ll have to hurry now for the bus, or I’ll be hoofing it back to the farm. See you tomorrow.” “Good night, George.”

I lay awake and thought about it. After a while, Mrs. Dinsmore, the wing nurse, came in, turned out my light, and said goodnight. But I didn’t go to sleep.

Dad was right, I knew. I didn’t want to be an ignoramus. Furthermore, I had seen the advantage held by men with fancy degrees–first crack at the jobs, fast promotion. Okay, I’d get me one of those sheepskins, then come back and–well, go to Callisto, maybe, or perhaps prove a new parcel of land. I’d go and I’d come back.

Nevertheless I couldn’t get to sleep. After a while I glanced at my new watch and saw that it was nearly midnight–dawn in a few minutes. I decided that I wanted to see it It might be the last time I’d be up and around at midnight Sunday for a long, long time.

I scouted the corridor; Old Lady Dinsmore wasn’t in sight. I ducked outside.

The Sun was just barely below the horizon; north of me I could see its first rays touching the topmost antenna of the power station, miles away on Pride Peak. It was very still and very beautiful. Overhead old Jupiter was in half phase, bulging and orange and grand. To the west of it Io was just coming out of shadow; it passed from black to cherry red to orange as I watched.

I wondered how I would feel to be back on Earth? How would it feel to weigh three times as much as I did now? I didn’t feel heavy; I felt just right. How would it feel to swim in that thick dirty soup they use for air?

How would it feel to have nobody but ground hogs to talk to? How could I talk to a girl who wasn’t a colonial, who had never been off Earth higher than a copter hop? Sissies. Take Gretchen, now–there was a girl who could kill a chicken and have it in the pot while an Earthside girl would still be squealing.

The top of the Sun broke above the horizon and caught the snow on the peaks of the Big Rock Candy Mountains, tinting it rosy against a pale green sky. I began to be able to see the country around me. It was a new, hard, clean place–not like California with its fifty, sixty million people falling over each other. It was my kind’ of a place–it was my place.

The deuce with Caltech and Cambridge and those fancy schools! I’d show Dad it didn’t take ivied halls to get an education. Yes, and I’d pass those tests and be an Eagle again, first thing.

Hadn’t Andrew Johnson, that American President, learned to read while he was working? Even after he was married? Give us time; we’d have as good scientists and scholars here as anywhere.

The long slow dawn went on and the light caught Kneiper’s cut west of me, outlining it. I was reminded of the night we had struggled through it in the storm. As Hank put it, there was one good thing about colonial life–it sorted out the men from the boys.

“I have lived and worked with men.” The phrase rang through my head. Rhysling? Kipling, maybe. I had lived and worked with men!

The Sun was beginning to reach the roof tops. It spread across Laguna Serenidad, turning it from black to purple to blue. This was my planet, this

was my home and I knew that I would never leave it

Mrs. Dinsmore came bustling out to the door and spotted me. “Why, the very idea!” she scolded. “You get back where you belong!” I smiled at her. “I am where I belong. And I’m going to stay!”

The End

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Have spacesuit – will travel (full text) by Robert Heinlein

“Have Spacesuit – Will Travel” is a great story that is in the same class as “Farmer in the Sky”. Which are both fictional stories that are perhaps some of his best. All have a great sense of awe and adventure and excitement about space and exploration that existed back in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Have Spacesuit – Will Travel

Chapter 1

You see, I had this space suit. How it happened was this way:

“Dad,” I said, “I want to go to the Moon.”

“Certainly,” he answered and looked back at his book. It was Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat, which he must know by heart.  I said, “Dad, please! I’m serious.”

This time he closed the book on a finger and said gently, “I said it was all right. Go ahead.” “Yes … but how?”

“Eh?” He looked mildly surprised. “Why, that’s your problem, Clifford.”

Dad was like that. The time I told him I wanted to buy a bicycle he said, “Go right ahead,” without even glancing up-so I had gone to the money basket in the dining room, intending to take enough for a bicycle. But there had been only eleven dollars and forty-three cents in it, so about a thousand miles of mowed lawns later I bought a bicycle. I hadn’t said anymore to Dad because if money wasn’t in the basket, it wasn’t anywhere; Dad didn’t bother with banks-just the money basket and one next to it marked “UNCLE SAM,” the contents of which he bundled up and mailed to the government once a year. This caused the Internal Revenue Service considerable headache and once they sent a man to remonstrate with him.

First the man demanded, then he pleaded. “But, Dr. Russell, we know your background. You’ve no excuse for not keeping proper records.” “But I do,” Dad told him. “Up here.” He tapped his forehead.

“The law requires written records.”

“Look again,” Dad advised him. “The law can’t even require a man to read and write. More coffee?”

The man tried to get Dad to pay by check or money order. Dad read him the fine print on a dollar bill, the part about “legal tender for all debts, public and private.” In a despairing effort to get something out of the trip he asked Dad please not to fill in the space marked “occupation” with “Spy.”

“Why not?”

“What? Why, because you aren’t-and it upsets people.” “Have you checked with the F.B.I.?”

“Eh? No.”

“They probably wouldn’t answer. But you’ve been very polite. I’ll mark it ‘Unemployed Spy.’ Okay?”

The tax man almost forgot his brief case. Nothing fazed Dad, he meant what he said, he wouldn’t argue and he never gave in. So when he told me I could go to the Moon but the means were up to me, he meant just that. I could go tomorrow-provided I could wangle a billet in a space ship.

But he added meditatively, “There must be a number of ways to get to the Moon, son. Better check ‘em all. Reminds me of this passage I’m reading. They’re trying to open a tin of pineapple and Harris has left the can opener back in London. They try several ways.” He started to read aloud and I sneaked out-I had heard that passage five hundred times. Well, three hundred.

I went to my workshop in the barn and thought about ways. One way was to go to the Air Academy at Colorado Springs-if I got an appointment, if I graduated, if I managed to get picked for the Federation Space Corps, there was a chance that someday I would be ordered to Lunar Base, or at least one of the satellite stations.

Another way was to study engineering, get a job in jet propulsion, and buck for a spot that would get me sent to the Moon. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of engineers had been to the Moon, or were still there-for all sorts of work: electronics, cryogenics, metallurgy, ceramics, air conditioning, as well as rocket engineering.

Oh, yes! Out of a million engineers a handful got picked for the Moon. Shucks, I rarely got picked even playing post office.

Or a man could be an M.D., or a lawyer, or geologist, or toolmaker, and wind up on the Moon at a fat salary-provided they wanted him and nobody else. I didn’t care about salary-but how do you arrange to be number one in your specialty?

And there was the straightforward way: trundle in a wheelbarrow of money and buy a ticket.

This I would never manage-I had eighty-seven cents at that moment -but it had caused me to think about it steadily. Of the boys in our school half admitted that they wanted to space, half pretended not to care, knowing how feeble the chances were-plus a handful of creeps who wouldn’t leave Earth for any reason. But we talked about it and some of us were determined to go. I didn’t break into a rash until American Express and Thos. Cook & Son announced tourist excursions.

I saw their ads in National Geographic while waiting to have my teeth cleaned. After that I never was the same.

The idea that any rich man could simply lay cash on the line and go was more than I could stand. I just had to go. I would never be able to pay for it-or, at least, that was so far in the future there was no use thinking about it. So what could I do to be sent?

You see stories about boys, poor-but-honest, who go to the top because they’re smarter than anyone in the county, maybe the state. But they’re not talking about me. I was in the top quarter of my graduating class but they do not give scholarships to M.I.T. for that-not from Centerville High. I am stating a fact; our high school isn’t very good. It’s great to go to-we’re league champions in basketball and our square-dance team is state runner-up and we have a swell sock hop every Wednesday. Lots of school spirit.

But not much studying.

The emphasis is on what our principal, Mr. Hanley, calls “preparation for life” rather than on trigonometry. Maybe it does prepare you for life; it certainly doesn’t prepare you for CalTech.   I didn’t find this out myself. Sophomore year I brought home a questionnaire cooked up by our group project in “Family Living” in social studies. One question read: “How is your family

council organized?”

At dinner I said, “Dad, how is our family council organized?” Mother said, “Don’t disturb your father, dear.”

Dad said, “Eh? Let me see that.”

He read it, then told me to fetch my textbooks. I had not brought them home, so he sent me to school to get them. Fortunately the building was open-rehearsals for the Fall Blow-Out. Dad rarely gave orders but when he did he expected results.

I had a swell course that semester-social study, commercial arithmetic, applied English (the class had picked “slogan writing” which was fun), handicrafts (we were building sets for the Blow-Out), and gym-which was basketball practice for me; I wasn’t tall enough for first team but a reliable substitute gets his varsity letter his senior year. All in all, I was doing well in school and knew it.

Dad read all my textbooks that night; he is a fast reader. In social study I reported that our family was an informal democracy; it got by-the class was arguing whether the chairmanship of  a council should rotate or be elective, and whether a grandparent living in the home was eligible. We decided that a grandparent was a member but should not be chairman, then we formed committees to draw up a constitution for an ideal family organization, which we would present to our families as the project’s findings.

Dad was around school a good bit the next few days, which worried me -when parents get overactive they are always up to something.

The following Saturday evening Dad called me into his study. He had a stack of textbooks on his desk and a chart of Centerville High School’s curriculum, from American Folk Dancing to Life Sciences. Marked on it was my course, not only for that semester but for junior and senior years the way my faculty advisor and I had planned it.

Dad stared at me like a gentle grasshopper and said mildly, “Kip, do you intend to go to college?” “Huh? Why, certainly, Dad!”

“With what?”

I hesitated. I knew it cost money. While there had been times when dollar bills spilled out of the basket onto the floor, usually it wouldn’t take long to count what was in it. “Uh, maybe I’ll get a scholarship. Or I could work my way.”

He nodded. “No doubt … if you want to. Money problems can always be solved by a man not frightened by them. But when I said, ‘With what?’ I was talking about up here.” He tapped his skull.

I simply stared. “Why, I’ll graduate from high school, Dad. That’ll get me into college.”

“So it will. Into our State University, or the State Aggie, or State Normal. But, Kip, do you know that they are flunking out 40 per cent of each freshman class?” “I wouldn’t flunk!”

“Perhaps not. But you will if you tackle any serious subject-engineering, or science, or pre-med. You would, that is to say, if your preparation were based on this.” He waved a hand at the curriculum.

I felt shocked. “Why, Dad, Center is a swell school.” I remembered things they had told us in P.T.A. Auxiliary. “It’s run along the latest, most scientific lines, approved by psychologists, and-“

“-and paying excellent salaries,” he interrupted, “for a staff highly trained in modern pedagogy. Study projects emphasize practical human problems to orient the child in democratic social living, to fit him for the vital, meaningful tests of adult life in our complex modern culture. Excuse me, son; I’ve talked with Mr. Hanley. Mr. Hanley is sincere-and to achieve these noble purposes we are spending more per student than is any other state save California and New York.”

“Well … what’s wrong with that?” “What’s a dangling participle?”

I didn’t answer. He went on, “Why did Van Buren fail of re-election? How do you extract the cube root of eighty-seven?”

Van Buren had been a president; that was all I remembered. But I could answer the other one. “If you want a cube root, you look in a table in the back of the book.”

Dad sighed. “Kip, do you think that table was brought down from on high by an archangel?” He shook his head sadly. “It’s my fault, not yours. I should have looked into this years ago-but I had assumed, simply because you liked to read and were quick at figures and clever with your hands, that you were getting an education.”

“You think I’m not?”

“I know you are not. Son, Centerville High is a delightful place, well equipped, smoothly administered, beautifully kept. Not a ‘blackboard jungle,’ oh, no!-I think you kids love the place. You should. But this-” Dad slapped the curriculum chart angrily. “Twaddle! Beetle tracking! Occupational therapy for morons!”

I didn’t know what to say. Dad sat and brooded. At last he said, “The law declares that you must attend school until you are eighteen or have graduated from high school.” “Yes, sir.”

“The school you are in is a waste of time. The toughest course we can pick won’t stretch your mind. But it’s either this school, or send you away.”  I said, “Doesn’t that cost a lot of money?”

He ignored my question. “I don’t favor boarding schools, a teen-ager belongs with his family. Oh, a tough prep school back east can drill you so that you can enter Stanford, or Yale, or any of the best-but you can pick up false standards, too-nutty ideas about money and social position and the right tailor. It took me years to get rid of ones I acquired that way. Your mother

and I did not pick a small town for your boyhood unpurposefully. So you’ll stay in Centerville High.”

I looked relieved.

“Nevertheless you intend to go to college. Do you intend to become a professional man? Or will you look for snap courses in more elaborate ways to make bayberry candles? Son, your life is yours, to do with as you wish. But if you have any thought of going to a good university and studying anything of importance, then we must consider how to make best use of your next three years.”

“Why, gosh, Dad, of course I want to go to a good-“ “See me when you’ve thought it over. Good night.”

I did for a week. And, you know, I began to see that Dad was right. Our project in “Family Living” was twaddle. What did those kids know about running a family? Or Miss Finchley?- unmarried and no kids. The class decided unanimously that every child should have a room of his own, and be given an allowance “to teach him to handle money.” Great stuff … but how about the Quinlan family, nine kids in a five-room house? Let’s not be foolish.

Commercial arithmetic wasn’t silly but it was a waste of time. I read the book through the first week; after that I was bored.

Dad switched me to algebra, Spanish, general science, English grammar and composition; the only thing unchanged was gym. I didn’t have it too tough catching up; even those courses were watered down. Nevertheless, I started to learn, for Dad threw a lot of books at me and said, “Clifford, you would be studying these if you were not in overgrown kindergarten. If you soak up what is in them, you should be able to pass College Entrance Board Examinations. Possibly.”

After that he left me alone; he meant it when he said that it was my choice. I almost bogged down-those books were hard, not the predigested pap I got in school. Anybody who thinks that studying Latin by himself is a snap should try it.

I got discouraged and nearly quit-then I got mad and leaned into it. After a while I found that Latin was making Spanish easier and vice versa. When Miss Hernandez, my Spanish teacher, found out I was studying Latin, she began tutoring me. I not only worked my way through Virgil, I learned to speak Spanish like a Mexicano.

Algebra and plane geometry were all the math our school offered; I went ahead on my own with advanced algebra and solid geometry and trigonometry and might have stopped so far as College Boards were concerned-but math is worse than peanuts. Analytical geometry seems pure Greek until you see what they’re driving at-then, if you know algebra, it bursts on you  and you race through the rest of the book. Glorious!

I had to sample calculus and when I got interested in electronics I needed vector analysis. General science was the only science course the school had and pretty general it was, too- about Sunday supplement level. But when you read about chemistry and physics you want to do it, too. The barn was mine and I had a chem lab and a darkroom and an electronics bench and, for a while, a ham station. Mother was perturbed when I blew out the windows and set fire to the barn-just a small fire-but Dad was not. He simply suggested that I not manufacture explosives in a frame building.

When I took the College Boards my senior year I passed them.

It was early March my senior year that I told Dad I wanted to go to the Moon. The idea had been made acute by the announcement of commercial flights but I had been “space happy” ever since the day they announced that the Federation Space Corps had established a lunar base. Or earlier. I told Dad about my decision because I felt that he would know the answer. You see. Dad always found ways to do anything he decided to do.

When I was little we lived lots of places-Washington, New York/Los Angeles, I don’t know where-usually in hotel apartments. Dad was always flying somewhere and when he was home

there were visitors; I never saw him much. Then we moved to Centerville and he was always home, his nose in a book or working at his desk. When people wanted to see him they had  to come to him. I remember once, when the money basket was empty, Dad told Mother that “a royalty was due.” I hung around that day because I had never seen a king (I was eight) and when a visitor showed up I was disappointed because he didn’t wear a crown. There was money in the basket the next day so I decided that he had been incognito (I was reading The Little Lame Prince) and had tossed Dad a purse of gold-it was at least a year before I found out that a “royalty” could be money from a patent or a book or business stock, and some of  the glamour went out of life. But this visitor, though not king, thought he could make Dad do what he wanted rather than what Dad wanted:

“Dr. Russell, I concede that Washington has an atrocious climate. But you will have air-conditioned offices.” “With clocks, no doubt. And secretaries. And soundproofing.”

“Anything you want. Doctor.”

“The point is, Mr. Secretary, I don’t want them. This household has no clocks. Nor calendars. Once I had a large income and a larger ulcer; I now have a small income and no ulcer. I stay here.”

“But the job needs you.”

“The need is not mutual. Do have some more meat loaf.”

Since Dad did not want to go to the Moon, the problem was mine. I got down college catalogs I had collected and started listing engineering schools. I had no idea how I could pay tuition or even eat-but the first thing was to get myself accepted by a tough school with a reputation.

If not, I could enlist in the Air Force and try for an appointment. If I missed, I could become an enlisted specialist in electronics; Lunar Base used radar and astrar techs. One way or another, I was going.

Next morning at breakfast Dad was hidden behind the New York Times while Mother read the Herald-Trib. I had the Centerville Clarion but it’s fit only for wrapping salami. Dad looked over his paper at me. “Clifford, here’s something in your line.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t grunt; that is an uncouth privilege of seniors. This.” He handed it to me. It was a soap ad.

It announced that tired old gimmick, a gigantic super-colossal prize contest. This one promised a thousand prizes down to a last hundred, each of which was a year’s supply of Skyway Soap.

Then I spilled cornflakes in my lap. The first prize was- “-AN ALL-EXPENSE TRIP TO THE MOON!!!”

That’s the way it read, with three exclamation points-only to me there were a dozen, with bursting bombs and a heavenly choir.

Just complete this sentence in twenty-five words or less: “I use Skyway Soap because …” (And send in the usual soap wrapper or reasonable facsimile.)

There was more about”-joint management of American Express and Thos. Cook-” and “-with the cooperation of the United States Air Force-” and a list of lesser prizes. But all I saw, while milk and soggy cereal soaked my pants, was: “-TRIP TO THE MOON!!!”

First I went sky-high with excitement … then as far down with depression. I didn’t win contests-why, if I bought a box of Cracker Jack, I’d get one they forgot to put a prize in. I had been cured of matching pennies. If I ever-

“Stop it,” said Dad. I shut up.

“There is no such thing as luck; there is only adequate or inadequate preparation to cope with a statistical universe. Do you intend to enter this?” “Do I!”

“I assume that to be affirmative. Very well, make a systematic effort.”

I did and Dad was helpful-he didn’t just offer me more meat loaf. But he saw to it I didn’t go to pieces; I finished school and sent off applications for college and kept my job-I was working after school that semester at Charton’s Pharmacy-soda jerk, but also learning about pharmacy. Mr. Charton was too conscientious to let me touch anything but packaged items, but I learned-materia medica and nomenclature and what various antibiotics were for and why you had to be careful. That led into organic chemistry and biochemistry and he lent me Walker, Boyd and Asimov- biochemistry makes atomic physics look simple, but presently it begins to make sense.

Mr. Charton was an old widower and pharmacology was his life. He hinted that someone would have to carry on the pharmacy someday- some young fellow with a degree in pharmacy and devotion to the profession. He said that he might be able to help such a person get through school. If he had suggested that I could someday run the dispensary at Lunar Base, I might have taken the bait. I explained that I was dead set on spacing, and engineering looked like my one chance.

He didn’t laugh. He said I was probably right-but that I shouldn’t forget that wherever Man went, to the Moon, on Mars, or the farthest stars, pharmacists and dispensaries would go along. Then he dug out books for me on space medicine-Strughold and Haber and Stapp and others. “I once had ideas along that line. Kip,” he said quietly, “but now it’s too late.”

Even though Mr. Charton was not really interested in anything but drugs, we sold everything that drugstores sell, from bicycle tires to home permanent kits. Including soap, of course.

We were selling darned little Skyway Soap; Centerville is conservative about new brands-I’ll bet some of them made their own soap. But when I showed up for work that day I had to tell Mr. Charton about it. He dug out two dust-covered boxes and put them on the counter. Then he phoned his jobber in Springfield.

He really did right by me. He marked Skyway Soap down almost to cost and pushed it-and he almost always got the wrappers before he let the customer go. Me, I stacked a pyramid of Skyway Soap on each end of the fountain and every coke was accompanied by a spiel for good old Skyway, the soap that washes cleaner, is packed with vitamins, and improves your chances of Heaven, not to mention its rich creamy lather, finer ingredients, and refusal to take the Fifth Amendment. Oh, I was shameless! Anybody who got away without buying was deaf or fast on his feet.

If he bought soap without leaving the wrappers with me he was a magician. Adults I talked out of it; kids, if I had to, I paid a penny for each wrapper. If they brought in wrappers from around town, I paid a dime a dozen and threw in a cone. The rules permitted a contestant to submit any number of entries as long as each was written on a Skyway Soap wrapper or reasonable facsimile.

I considered photographing one and turning out facsimiles by the gross, but Dad advised me not to. “It is within the rules, Kip, but I’ve never yet known a skunk to be welcome at a picnic.” So I used soap. And I sent in wrappers with slogans:

“I use Skyway Soap because- it makes me feel so clean.”

highway or byway, there’s no soap like Skyway!” its quality is sky-high.”

it is pure as the Milky Way.”

it is pure as Interstellar Space.”

it leaves me fresh as a rain-swept sky.”

And so on endlessly, until I tasted soap in my dreams. Not just my own slogans either; Dad thought them up, and so did Mother and Mr. Charton. I kept a notebook and wrote them down in school or at work or in the middle of the night. I came home one evening and found that Dad had set up a card file for me and after that I kept them alphabetically to avoid repeating. A good thing, too, for toward the last I sent in as many as a hundred a day. Postage mounted, not to mention having to buy some wrappers.

Other kids in town were in the contest and probably some adults, but they didn’t have the production line I had. I’d leave work at ten o’clock, hurry home with the day’s slogans and wrappers, pick up more slogans from Dad and Mother, then use a rubber stamp on the inside of each wrapper: “I use Skyway Soap because-” with my name and address. As I typed, Dad filled out file cards. Each morning I mailed the bunch on my way to school.

I got laughed at but the adults most inclined to kid me were quickest to let me have their wrappers.

All but one, an oaf called “Ace” Quiggle. I shouldn’t class Ace as an adult; he was an over-age juvenile delinquent. I guess every town has at least one Ace. He hadn’t finished Centerville High, a distinction since Mr. Hanley believed in promoting everybody “to keep age groups together.” As far back as I remember Ace hung around Main Street, sometimes working, mostly not.

He specialized in “wit.” He was at our fountain one day, using up two dollars’ worth of space and time for one thirty-five-cent malt. I had just persuaded old Mrs. Jenkins to buy a dozen cakes and had relieved her of the wrappers. As she left, Ace picked one off my counter display and said, “You’re selling these. Space Cadet?”

“That’s right, Ace. You’ll never find such a bargain again.”

“You expect to go to the Moon, just selling soap, Captain? Or should I say ‘Commodore’? Yuk yuk yukkity yuk!” That’s how Ace laughed, like a comic strip. “I’m trying,” I said politely. “How about some?”

“You’re sure it’s good soap?” “Positive.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. Just to help you out-I’ll buy one bar.”

Aplunger. But this might be the winning wrapper. “Sure thing, Ace. Thanks a lot.” I took his money, he slipped the cake into his pocket and started to leave. “Just a second, Ace. The wrapper. Please?”

He stopped. “Oh, yes.” He took out the bar, peeled it, held up the wrapper. “You want this?” “Yes, Ace. Thanks.”

“Well, I’ll show you how to get the best use of it.” He reached across to the cigar lighter on the tobacco counter and set fire to it, lit a cigarette with it, let the wrapper bum almost to his fingers, dropped it and stepped on it.

Mr. Charton watched from the window of the dispensary.

Ace grinned. “Okay, Space Cadet?”

I was gripping the ice-cream scoop. But I answered, “Perfectly okay, Ace. It’s your soap.” Mr. Charton came out and said, “I’ll take the fountain, Kip. There’s a package to deliver.”

That was almost the only wrapper I missed. The contest ended May 1 and both Dad and Mr. Charton decided to stock up and cleaned out the last case in the store. It was almost eleven before I had them written up, then Mr. Charton drove me to Springfield to get them postmarked before midnight.

I had sent in five thousand seven hundred and eighty-two slogans. I doubt if Centerville was ever so scrubbed.

The results were announced on the Fourth of July. I chewed my nails to the elbows in those nine weeks. Oh, other things happened. I graduated and Dad and Mother gave me a watch and we paraded past Mr. Hanley and got our diplomas. It felt good, even though what Dad had persuaded me to learn beat what I learned at dear old Center six ways from zero. Before  that was Sneak Day and Class Honeymoon and Senior Prom and the Class Play and the Junior-Senior Picnic and all the things they do to keep the animals quiet. Mr. Charton let me off early if I asked, but I didn’t ask often as my mind wasn’t on it and I wasn’t going steady anyhow. I had been earlier in the year, but she-Elaine McMurty-wanted to talk boys and clothes and   I wanted to talk space and engineering so she put me back into circulation.

After graduation I worked for Mr. Charton full time. I still didn’t know how I was going to college. I didn’t think about it; I just dished sundaes and held my breath until the Fourth of July.

It was to be on television at 8 P.M. We had a TV-a black and white flatimage job-but it hadn’t been turned on in months; after I built it I lost interest. I dug it out, set it up in the living room and tested the picture. I killed a couple of hours adjusting it, then spent the rest of the day chewing nails. I couldn’t eat dinner. By seven-thirty I was in front of the set, not-watching a comedy team and fiddling with my file cards. Dad came in, looked sharply at me, and said, “Take a grip on yourself, Kip. Let me remind you again that the chances are against you.”

I gulped. “I know, Dad.”

“Furthermore, in the long run it won’t matter. Aman almost always gets what he wants badly enough. I am sure you will get to the Moon someday, one way or another.” “Yes, sir. I just wish they would get it over with.”

“They will. Coming, Emma?”

“Right away, dearest,” Mother called back. She came in, patted my hand and sat down. Dad settled back. “Reminds me of election nights.”

Mother said, “I’m glad you’re no longer up to your ears in that.” “Oh, come now, sweetheart, you enjoyed every campaign.” Mother sniffed.

The comics went back where comics go, cigarettes did a cancan, then dived into their packs while a soothing voice assured us that carcinogenous factors were unknown in Coronets, the safe, Safe, SAFE smoke with the true tobacco flavor. The program cut to the local station; we were treated to a thrilling view of Center Lumber & Hardware and I started pulling hairs out of the back of my hand.

The screen filled with soap bubbles; a quartet sang that this was the Skyway Hour, as if we didn’t know. Then the screen went blank and sound cut off and I swallowed my stomach. The screen lighted up with: “Network Difficulty-Do Not Adjust Your Sets.”

I yelped, “Oh, they can’t do that! They can’t!” Dad said, “Stop it, Clifford.”

I shut up. Mother said, “Now, dearest, he’s just a boy.”

Dad said, “He is not a boy; he is a man. Kip, how do you expect to face a firing squad calmly if this upsets you?” I mumbled; he said, “Speak up.” I said I hadn’t really planned on facing one.

“You may need to, someday. This is good practice. Try the Springfield channel; you may get a skip image.” I tried, but all I got was snow and the sound was like two cats in a sack. I jumped back to our local station.

“-jor General Bryce Gilmore, United States Air Force, our guest tonight, who will explain to us, later in this program, some hitherto unreleased pictures of Federation Lunar Base and the infant Luna City, the fastest growing little city on the Moon. Immediately after announcing the winners we will attempt a television linkage with Lunar Base, through the cooperation of the Space Corps of the-“

I took a deep breath and tried to slow my heartbeat, the way you steady down for a free-throw in a tie game. The gabble dragged on while celebrities were introduced, the contest rules were explained, an improbably sweet young couple explained to each other why they always used Skyway Soap. My own sales talks were better.

At last they got to it. Eight girls paraded out; each held a big card over her head. The M.C. said in an awestruck voice: “And now … and now -the winning Skyway slogan for the … FREE TRIP TO THE MOON!”

I couldn’t breathe.

The girls sang, “I like Skyway Soap because-” and went on, each turning her card as a word reached her: “-it … is … as … pure … as … the … sky … itself!”

I was fumbling cards. I thought I recognized it but couldn’t be sure- not after more than five thousand slogans. Then I found it-and checked the cards the girls were holding. “Dad! Mother! I’ve won, I’ve won!”

“Hold it, Kip!” Dad snapped. “Stop it.” Mother said, “Oh, dear!”

I heard the M.C. saying, “-present the lucky winner, Mrs. Xenia Donahue, of Great Falls, Montana… . Mrs. Donahue!”

To a fanfare a little dumpy woman teetered out. I read the cards again. They still matched the one in my hand. I said, “Dad, what happened? That’s my slogan.” “You didn’t listen.”

“They’ve cheated me!” “Be quiet and listen,”

“-as we explained earlier, in the event of duplicate entries, priority goes to the one postmarked first. Any remaining tie is settled by time of arrival at the contest office. Our winning slogan was submitted by eleven contestants. To them go the first eleven prizes. Tonight we have with us the six top winners-for the trip to the Moon, the weekend in a satellite space station, the jet flight around the world, the flight to Antarctica, the-“

“Beaten by a postmark. Apostmark!”

“-sorry we can’t have every one of the winners with us tonight. To the rest this comes as a surprise.” The M.C. looked at his watch. “Right this minute, in a thousand homes across the land … right this second- there is a lucky knock on a lucky door of some loyal friend of Skyway-“

There was a knock on our door.

I fell over my feet. Dad answered. There were three men, an enormous crate, and a Western Union messenger singing about Skyway Soap. Somebody said, “Is this where Clifford Russell lives?”

Dad said, “Yes.”

“Will you sign for this?” “What is it?”

“It just says ‘This Side Up.’ Where do you want it?”

Dad passed the receipt to me and I signed, somehow. Dad said, “Will you put it in the living room, please?” They did and left and I got a hammer and sidecutters. It looked like a coffin and I could have used one.

I got the top off. Alot of packing got all over Mother’s rugs. At last we were down to it. It was a space suit.

Not much, as space suits go these days. It was an obsolete model that Skyway Soap had bought as surplus material-the tenth-to-hundredth prizes were all space suits. But it was a real one, made by Goodyear, with air conditioning by York and auxiliary equipment by General Electric. Its instruction manual and maintenance-and-service log were with it and it had racked  up more than eight hundred hours in rigging the second satellite station.

I felt better. This was no phony, this was no toy. It had been out in space, even if I had not. But would!-someday. I’d learn to use it and someday I’d wear it on the naked face of the Moon. Dad said, “Maybe we’d better carry this to your workshop. Eh, Kip?”

Mother said, “There’s no rush, dearest. Don’t you want to try it on, Clifford?”

I certainly did. Dad and I compromised by toting the crate and packing out to the barn. When we came back, a reporter from the Clarion was there with a photographer-the paper had known I was a winner before I did, which didn’t seem right.

They wanted pictures and I didn’t mind.

I had an awful time getting into it-dressing in an upper berth is a cinch by comparison. The photographer said, “Just a minute, kid. I’ve seen ‘em do it at Wright Field. Mind some advice?” “Uh? No. I mean, yes, tell me.”

“You slide in like an Eskimo climbing into a kayak. Then wiggle your right arm in-“

It was fairly easy that way, opening front gaskets wide and sitting down in it, though I almost dislocated a shoulder. There were straps to adjust for size but we didn’t bother; he stuffed me into it, zippered the gaskets, helped me to my feet and shut the helmet.

It didn’t have air bottles and I had to live on the air inside while he got three shots. By then I knew that the suit had seen service; it smelled like dirty socks. I was glad to get the helmet off. Just the same, it made me feel good to wear it. Like a spacer.

They left and presently we went to bed, leaving the suit in the living room. About midnight I cat-footed down and tried it on again.

The next morning I moved it out to my shop before I went to work. Mr. Charton was diplomatic; he just said he’d like to see my space suit when I had time. Everybody knew about it-my picture was on the front page of the Clarion along with the Pikes Peak Hill Climb and the holiday fatalities. The story had been played for laughs, but I didn’t mind. I had never really believed I would win-and I had an honest-to-goodness space suit, which was more than my classmates had.

That afternoon Dad brought me a special delivery letter from Skyway Soap. It enclosed a property title to one suit, pressure, serial number so-and-so, ex-US-AF. The letter started with congratulations and thanks but the last paragraphs meant something:

Skyway Soap realizes that your prize may not be of immediate use to you. Therefore, as mentioned in paragraph 4 (a) of the rules. Skyway offers to redeem it for a cash premium of five hundred dollars ($500.00). To avail yourself of this privilege you should return the pressure suit via express collect to Goodyear Corporation (Special Appliances Division, attn: Salvage), Akron, Ohio, on or before the 15th of September.

Skyway Soap hopes that you have enjoyed our Grand Contest as much as we have enjoyed having you and hopes that you will retain your prize long enough to appear with it on your local television station in a special Skyway Jubilee program. Afee of fifty dollars ($50.00) will be paid for this appearance. Your station manager will be in touch with you. We hope that you will  be our guest.

All good wishes from Skyway, the Soap as Pure as the Sky Itself. I handed it to Dad. He read it and handed it back.

I said, “I suppose I should.”

He said, “I see no harm. Television leaves no external scars.”

“Oh, that. Sure, it’s easy money. But I meant I really ought to sell the suit back to them.” I should have felt happy since I needed money, while I needed a space suit the way a pig needs a

pipe organ. But I didn’t, even though I had never had five hundred dollars in my life.

“Son, any statement that starts ‘I really ought to-‘ is suspect. It means you haven’t analyzed your motives.” “But five hundred dollars is tuition for a semester, almost.”

“Which has nothing to do with the case. Find out what you want to do, then do it. Never talk yourself into doing something you don’t want. Think it over.” He said good-bye and left.

I decided it was foolish to burn my bridges before I crossed them. The space suit was mine until the middle of September even if I did the sensible thing-by then I might be tired of it.

But I didn’t get tired of it; a space suit is a marvelous piece of machinery-a little space station with everything miniaturized. Mine was a chrome-plated helmet and shoulder yoke which merged into a body of silicone, asbestos, and glass-fiber cloth. This hide was stiff except at the joints. They were the same rugged material but were “constant volume” -when you bent a knee a bellows arrangement increased the volume over the knee cap as much as the space back of the knee was squeezed. Without this a man wouldn’t be able to move; the pressure inside, which can add up to several tons, would hold him rigid as a statue. These volume compensators were covered with dural armor; even the finger joints had little dural plates over the knuckles.

It had a heavy glass-fiber belt with clips for tools, and there were the straps to adjust for height and weight. There was a back pack, now empty, for air bottles, and zippered pockets inside and out, for batteries and such.

The helmet swung back, taking a bib out of the yoke with it, and the front opened with two gasketed zippers; this left a door you could wiggle into. With helmet clamped and zippers closed  it was impossible to open the suit with pressure inside.

Switches were mounted on the shoulder yoke and on the helmet; the helmet was monstrous. It contained a drinking tank, pill dispensers six on each side, a chin plate on the right to switch radio from “receive” to “send,” another on the left to increase or decrease flow of air, an automatic polarizer for the face lens, microphone and earphones, space for radio circuits in  a bulge back of the head, and an instrument board arched over the head. The instrument dials read backwards because they were reflected in an inside mirror in front of the wearer’s forehead at an effective fourteen inches from the eyes.

Above the lens or window there were twin headlights. On top were two antennas, a spike for broadcast and a horn that squirted microwaves like a gun-you aimed it by facing the receiving station. The horn antenna was armored except for its open end.

This sounds as crowded as a lady’s purse but everything was beautifully compact; your head didn’t touch anything when you looked out the lens. But you could tip your head back and  see reflected instruments, or tilt it down and turn it to work chin controls, or simply turn your neck for water nipple or pills. In all remaining space sponge-rubber padding kept you from banging your head no matter what. My suit was like a fine car, its helmet like a Swiss watch. But its air bottles were missing; so was radio gear except for built-in antennas; radar beacon and emergency radar target were gone, pockets inside and out were empty, and there were no tools on the belt. The manual told what it ought to have-it was like a stripped car.

I decided I just had to make it work right.

First I swabbed it out with Clorox to kill the locker-room odor. Then I got to work on the air system.

It’s a good thing they included that manual; most of what I thought I knew about space suits was wrong.

Aman uses around three pounds of oxygen a day-pounds mass, not pounds per square inch. You’d think a man could carry oxygen for a month, especially out in space where mass has no weight, or on the Moon where three pounds weigh only half a pound. Well, that’s okay for space stations or ships or frogmen; they run air through soda lime to take out carbon dioxide, and breathe it again. But not space suits.

Even today people talk about “the bitter cold of outer space”-but space is vacuum and if vacuum were cold, how could a Thermos jug keep hot coffee hot? Vacuum is nothing-it has no temperature, it just insulates.

Three-fourths of your food turns into heat-a lot of heat, enough each day to melt fifty pounds of ice and more. Sounds preposterous, doesn’t it? But when you have a roaring fire in the furnace, you are cooling your body; even in the winter you keep a room about thirty degrees cooler than your body. When you turn up a furnace’s thermostat, you are picking a more comfortable rate for cooling. Your body makes so much heat you have to get rid of it, exactly as you have to cool a car’s engine.

Of course, if you do it too fast, say in a sub-zero wind, you can freeze- but the usual problem in a space suit is to keep from being boiled like a lobster. You’ve got vacuum all around you and it’s hard to get rid of heat.

Some radiates away but not enough, and if you are in sunlight, you pick up still more-this is why space ships are polished like mirrors. So what can you do?

Well, you can’t carry fifty-pound blocks of ice. You get rid of heat the way you do on Earth, by convection and evaporation-you keep air moving over you to evaporate sweat and cool you off. Oh, they’ll learn to build space suits that recycle like a space ship but today the practical way is to let used air escape from the suit, flushing away sweat and carbon dioxide and excess heat-while wasting most of the oxygen.

There are other problems. The fifteen pounds per square inch around you includes three pounds of oxygen pressure. Your lungs can get along on less than half that, but only an Indian from the high Andes is likely to he comfortable on less than two pounds oxygen pressure. Nine-tenths of a pound is the limit. Any less than nine-tenths of a pound won’t force oxygen into blood-this is about the pressure at the top of Mount Everest.

Most people suffer from hypoxia (oxygen shortage) long before this, so better use two p.s.i. of oxygen. Mix an inert gas with it, because pure oxygen can cause a sore throat or make you drunk or even cause terrible cramps. Don’t use nitrogen (which you’ve breathed all your life) because it will bubble in your blood if pressure drops and cripple you with “bends.” Use helium which doesn’t. It gives you a squeaky voice, but who cares?

You can die from oxygen shortage, be poisoned by too much oxygen, be crippled by nitrogen, drown in or be acid-poisoned by carbon dioxide, or dehydrate and run a killing fever. When I finished reading that manual I didn’t see how anybody could stay alive anywhere, much less in a space suit.

But a space suit was in front of me that had protected a man for hundreds of hours in empty space.

Here is how you beat those dangers. Carry steel bottles on your back; they hold “air” (oxygen and helium) at a hundred and fifty atmospheres, over 2000 pounds per square inch; you   draw from them through a reduction valve down to 150 p.s.i. and through still another reduction valve, a “demand” type which keeps pressure in your helmet at three to five pounds per square inch-two pounds of it oxygen. Put a silicone-rubber collar around your neck and put tiny holes in it, so that the pressure in the body of your suit is less, the air movement still faster; then evaporation and cooling will be increased while the effort of bending is decreased. Add exhaust valves, one at each wrist and ankle-these have to pass water as well as gas   because you may be ankle deep in sweat.

The bottles are big and clumsy, weighing around sixty pounds apiece, and each holds only about five mass pounds of air even at that enormous pressure; instead of a month’s supply you will have only a few hours-my suit was rated at eight hours for the bottles it used to have. But you will be okay for those hours-if everything works right. You can stretch time, for you don’t die from overheating very fast and can stand too much carbon dioxide even longer-but let your oxygen run out and you die in about seven minutes. Which gets us back where we started-it takes oxygen to stay alive.

To make darn sure that you’re getting enough (your nose can’t tell) you clip a little photoelectric cell to your ear and let it see the color of your blood; the redness of the blood measures the oxygen it carries. Hook this to a galvanometer. If its needle gets into the danger zone, start saying your prayers.

I went to Springfield on my day off, taking the suit’s hose fittings, and shopped. I picked up, second hand, two thirty-inch steel bottles from a welding shop-and got myself disliked by insisting on a pressure test. I took them home on the bus, stopped at Pring’s Garage and arranged to buy air at fifty atmospheres. Higher pressures, or oxygen or helium, I could get from the Springfield airport, but I didn’t need them yet.

When I got home I closed the suit, empty, and pumped it with a bicycle pump to two atmospheres absolute, or one relative, which gave me a test load of almost four to one compared with space conditions. Then I tackled the bottles. They needed to be mirror bright, since you can’t afford to let them pick up heat from the Sun. I stripped and scraped and wire-brushed, and buffed and polished, preparatory to nickel-plating.

Next morning, Oscar the Mechanical Man was limp as a pair of long johns.

Getting that old suit not just airtight but helium-tight was the worst headache. Air isn’t bad but the helium molecule is so small and agile that it migrates right through ordinary rubber-and   I wanted this job to be right, not just good enough to perform at home but okay for space. The gaskets were shot and there were slow leaks almost impossible to find.

I had to get new silicone-rubber gaskets and patching compound and tissue from Goodyear; small-town hardware stores don’t handle such things. I wrote a letter explaining what I wanted and why-and they didn’t even charge me. They sent me some mimeographed sheets elaborating on the manual.

It still wasn’t easy. But there came a day when I pumped Oscar full of pure helium at two atmospheres absolute. Aweek later he was still tight as a six-ply tire.

That day I wore Oscar as a self-contained environment. I had already worn him many hours without the helmet, working around the shop, handling tools while hampered by his gauntlets, getting height and size adjustments right. It was like breaking in new ice skates and after a while I was hardly aware I had it on-once I came to supper in it. Dad said nothing and Mother has the social restraint of an ambassador; I discovered my mistake when I picked up my napkin.

Now I wasted helium to the air, mounted bottles charged with air, and suited them. Then I clamped the helmet and dogged the safety catches.

Air sighed softly into the helmet, its flow through the demand valve regulated by the rise and fall of my chest-I could reset it to speed up or slow down by the chin control. I did so, watching the gauge in the mirror and letting it mount until I had twenty pounds absolute inside. That gave me five pounds more than the pressure around me, which was as near as I could come   to space conditions without being in space.

I could feel the suit swell and the joints no longer felt loose and easy. I balanced the cycle at five pounds differential and tried to move- And almost fell over. I had to grab the workbench. Suited up, with bottles on my back, I weighed more than twice what I do stripped. Besides that, although the joints were constant-volume, the suit didn’t work as freely under pressure.

Dress yourself in heavy fishing waders, put on an overcoat and boxing gloves and a bucket over your head, then have somebody strap two sacks of cement across your shoulders and

you will know what a space suit feels like under one gravity.

But ten minutes later I was handling myself fairly well and in half an hour I felt as if I had worn one all my life. The distributed weight wasn’t too great (and I knew it wouldn’t amount to much on the Moon). The joints were just a case of getting used to more effort. I had had more trouble learning to swim.

It was a blistering day: I went outside and looked at the Sun. The polarizer cut the glare and I was able to look at it. I looked away; polarizing eased off and I could see around me.

I stayed cool. The air, cooled by semi-adiabatic expansion (it said in the manual), cooled my head and flowed on through the suit, washing away body heat and used air through the exhaust valves. The manual said that heating elements rarely cut in, since the usual problem was to get rid of heat; I decided to get dry ice and force a test of thermostat and heater.

I tried everything I could think of. Acreek runs back of our place and beyond is a pasture. I sloshed through the stream, lost my footing and fell -the worst trouble was that I could never see where I was putting my feet. Once I was down I lay there a while, half floating but mostly covered. I didn’t get wet, I didn’t get hot, I didn’t get cold, and my breathing was as easy as ever even though water shimmered over my helmet.

I scrambled heavily up the bank and fell again, striking my helmet against a rock. No damage, Oscar was built to take it. I pulled my knees under me, got up, and crossed the pasture, stumbling on rough ground but not falling. There was a haystack there and I dug into it until I was buried.

Cool fresh air … no trouble, no sweat.

After three hours I took it off. The suit had relief arrangements like any pilot’s outfit but I hadn’t rigged it yet, so I had come out before my air was gone. When I hung it in the rack I had built,   I patted the shoulder yoke. “Oscar, you’re all right,” I told it. “You and I are partners. We’re going places.” I would have sneered at five thousand dollars for Oscar.

While Oscar was taking his pressure tests I worked on his electrical and electronic gear. I didn’t bother with a radar target or beacon; the first is childishly simple, the second is fiendishly expensive. But I did want radio for the space-operations band of the spectrum-the antennas suited only those wavelengths. I could have built an ordinary walkie-talkie and hung it

outside-but I would have been kidding myself with a wrong frequency and gear that might not stand vacuum. Changes in pressure and temperature and humidity do funny things to electronic circuits; that is why the radio was housed inside the helmet.

The manual gave circuit diagrams, so I got busy. The audio and modulating circuits were no problem, just battery-operated transistor circuitry which I could make plenty small enough.   But the microwave part- It was a two-headed calf, each with transmitter and receiver-one centimeter wavelength for the horn and three octaves lower at eight centimeters for the spike in a harmonic relationship, one crystal controlling both. This gave more signal on broadcast and better aiming when squirting out the horn and also meant that only part of the rig had to be switched in changing antennas. The output of a variable-frequency oscillator was added to the crystal frequency in tuning the receiver. The circuitry was simple-on paper.

But microwave circuitry is never easy; it takes precision machining and a slip of a tool can foul up the impedance and ruin a mathematically calculated resonance.

Well, I tried. Synthetic precision crystals are cheap from surplus houses and some transistors and other components I could vandalize from my own gear. And I made it work, after the fussiest pray-and-try-again I have ever done. But the consarned thing simply would not fit into the helmet.

Call it a moral victory-I’ve never done better work.

I finally bought one, precision made and embedded in plastic, from the same firm that sold me the crystal. Like the suit it was made for, it was obsolete and I paid a price so low that I merely screamed. By then I would have mortgaged my soul-I wanted that suit to work.

The only thing that complicated the rest of the electrical gear was that everything had to be either “fail-safe” or “no-fail”; a man in a space suit can’t pull into the next garage if something goes wrong-the stuff has to keep on working or he becomes a vital statistic. That was why the helmet had twin headlights; the second cut in if the first failed-even the peanut lights for the dials over my head were twins. I didn’t take short cuts; every duplicate circuit I kept duplicate and tested to make sure that automatic changeover always worked.

Mr. Charton insisted on filling the manual’s list on those items a drugstore stocks-maltose and dextrose and amino tablets, vitamins, dexedrine, dramamine, aspirin, antibiotics, antihistamines, codeine, almost any pill a man can take to help him past a hump that might kill him. He got Doc Kennedy to write prescriptions so that I could stock Oscar without breaking laws.

When I got through Oscar was in as good shape as he had ever been in Satellite Two. It had been more fun than the time I helped Jake Bixby turn his heap into a hotrod.

But summer was ending and it was time I pulled out of my daydream. I still did not know where I was going to school, or how-or if. I had saved money but it wasn’t nearly enough. I had spent a little on postage and soap wrappers but I got that back and more by one fifteen-minute appearance on television and I hadn’t spent a dime on girls since March- too busy. Oscar cost surprisingly little; repairing Oscar had been mostly sweat and screwdriver. Seven dollars out of every ten I had earned was sitting in the money basket.

But it wasn’t enough.

I realized glumly that I was going to have to sell Oscar to get through the first semester. But how would I get through the rest of the year? Joe Valiant the all-American boy always shows up on the campus with fifty cents and a heart of gold, then in the last Chapter is tapped for Skull-and-Bones and has money in the bank. But I wasn’t Joe Valiant, not by eight decimal places. Did it make sense to start if I was going to have to drop out about Christmas? Wouldn’t it be smarter to stay out a year and get acquainted with a pick and shovel?

Did I have a choice? The only school I was sure of was State U. -and there was a row about professors being fired and talk that State U. might lose its accredited standing. Wouldn’t it be comical to spend years slaving for a degree and then have it be worthless because your school wasn’t recognized?

State U. wasn’t better than a “B” school in engineering even before this fracas.

Rensselaer and CalTech turned me down the same day-one with a printed form, the other with a polite letter saying it was impossible to accept all qualified applicants.

Little things were getting my goat, too. The only virtue of that television show was the fifty bucks. Aperson looks foolish wearing a space suit in a television studio and our announcer milked it for laughs, rapping the helmet and asking me if I was still in there. Very funny. He asked me what I wanted with a space suit and when I tried to answer he switched off the mike in my suit and patched in a tape with nonsense about space pirates and flying saucers. Half the people in town thought it was my voice.

It wouldn’t have been hard to live down if Ace Quiggle hadn’t turned up. He had been missing all summer, in jail maybe, but the day after the show he took a seat at the fountain, stared at me and said in a loud whisper, “Say, ain’t you the famous space pirate and television star?”

I said, “What’ll you have, Ace?”

“Gosh! Could I have your autograph? I ain’t never seen a real live space pirate before!” “Give me your order, Ace. Or let someone else use that stool.”

“Achoc malt. Commodore-and leave out the soap.”

Ace’s “wit” went on every time he showed up. It was a dreadfully hot summer and easy to get tempery. The Friday before Labor Day weekend the store’s cooling system went sour, we couldn’t get a repairman and I spent three bad hours fixing it, ruining my second-best pants and getting myself reeking. I was back at the fountain and wishing I could go home for a bath when Ace swaggered in, greeting me loudly with “Why, if it isn’t Commander Comet, the Scourge of the Spaceways! Where’s your blaster gun, Commander? Ain’t you afraid the Galactic Emperor will make you stay in after school for running around bare-nekkid? Yuk yuk yukkity yuk!”

Acouple of girls at the fountain giggled. “Lay off, Ace,” I said wearily. “It’s a hot day.”

“That’s why you’re not wearing your rubber underwear?” The girls giggled again.

Ace smirked. He went on: “Junior, seein’ you got that clown suit, why don’t you put it to work? Run an ad in the Clarion: ‘Have Space Suit-Will Travel.’ Yukkity yuk! Or you could hire out as a scarecrow.”

The girls snickered. I counted ten, then again in Spanish, and in Latin, and said tensely, “Ace, just tell me what you’ll have.” “My usual. And snap it up-I’ve got a date on Mars.”

Mr. Charton came out from behind his counter, sat down and asked me to mix him a lime cooler, so I served him first. It stopped the flow of wit and probably saved Ace’s life. The boss and I were alone shortly after. He said quietly, “Kip, a reverence for life does not require a man to respect Nature’s obvious mistakes.”

“Sir?”

“You need not serve Quiggle again. I don’t want his trade.” “Oh, I don’t mind. He’s harmless.”

“I wonder how harmless such people are? To what extent civilization is retarded by the laughing jackasses, the empty-minded belittlers? Go home; you’ll want to make an early start tomorrow.”

I had been invited to the Lake of the Forest for the long Labor Day weekend by Jake Bixby’s parents. I wanted to go, not only to get away from the heat but also to chew things over with Jake. But I answered, “Shucks, Mr. Charton, I ought not to leave you stuck.”

“The town will be deserted over the holiday; I may not open the fountain. Enjoy yourself. This summer has worn you a bit fine. Kip.”  I let myself be persuaded but I stayed until closing and swept up. Then I walked home, doing some hard thinking.

The party was over and it was time to put away my toys. Even the village half-wit knew that I had no sensible excuse to have a space suit. Not that I cared what Ace thought … but I did   have no use for it-and I needed money. Even if Stanford and M.I.T. and Carnegie and the rest turned me down, I was going to start this semester. State U. wasn’t the best-but neither was   I and I had learned that more depended on the student than on the school.

Mother had gone to bed and Dad was reading. I said hello and went to the barn, intending to strip my gear off Oscar, pack him into his case, address it, and in the morning phone the express office to pick it up. He’d be gone before I was back from the Lake of the Forest. Quick and clean.

He was hanging on his rack and it seemed to me that he grinned hello. Nonsense, of course. I went over and patted his shoulder. “Well, old fellow, you’ve been a real chum and it’s been nice knowing you. See you on the Moon-I hope.”

But Oscar wasn’t going to the Moon. Oscar was going to Akron, Ohio, to “Salvage.” They were going to unscrew parts they could use and throw the rest of him on the junk pile. My mouth felt dry.

(“It’s okay, pal,” Oscar answered.)

See that? Out of my silly head! Oscar didn’t really speak; I had let my imagination run wild too long. So I quit patting him, hauled the crate out and took a wrench from his belt to remove the gas bottles.

I stopped.

Both bottles were charged, one with oxygen, one with oxy-helium. I had wasted money to do so because I wanted, just once, to try a spaceman’s mix. The batteries were fresh and power packs were charged.

“Oscar,” I said softly, “we’re going to take a last walk together. Okay?” (“Swell!”)

I made it a dress rehearsal-water in the drinking tank, pill dispensers loaded, first-aid kit inside, vacuum-proof duplicate (I hoped it was vacuum-proof) in an outside pocket. All tools on belt, all lanyards tied so that tools wouldn’t float away in free fall. Everything.

Then I heated up a circuit that the F.C.C. would have squelched had they noticed, a radio link I had salvaged out of my effort to build a radio for Oscar, and had modified as a test rig for Oscar’s ears and to let me check the aiming of the directional antenna. It was hooked in with an echo circuit that would answer back if I called it-a thing I had bread hoarded out of an old Webcor wire recorder, vintage 1950.

Then I climbed into Oscar and buttoned up. “Tight?” (“Tight!”)

I glanced at the reflected dials, noticed the blood-color reading, reduced pressure until Oscar almost collapsed. At nearly sea-level pressure I was in no danger from hypoxia; the trick was to avoid too much oxygen.

We started to leave when I remembered something. “Just a second, Oscar.” I wrote a note to my folks, telling them that I was going to get up early and catch the first bus to the lake. I could write while suited up now, I could even thread a needle. I stuck the note under the kitchen door.

Then we crossed the creek into the pasture. I didn’t stumble in wading; I was used to Oscar now, sure-footed as a goat.

Out in the field I keyed my talkie and said, “Junebug, calling Peewee. Come in, Peewee.” Seconds later my recorded voice came back: ” ‘Junebug, calling Peewee. Come in, Peewee.’”

I shifted to the horn antenna and tried again. It wasn’t easy to aim in the dark but it was okay. Then I shifted back to spike antenna and went on calling Peewee while moving across the pasture and pretending that I was on Venus and had to stay in touch with base because it was unknown terrain and unbreathable atmosphere. Everything worked perfectly and if it had been Venus, I would have been all right.

Two lights moved across the southern sky, planes I thought, or maybe helis. Just the sort of thing yokels like to report as “flying saucers.” I watched them, then moved behind a little rise that would tend to spoil reception and called Peewee. Peewee answered and I shut up; it gets dull talking to an idiot circuit which can only echo what you say to it.

Then I heard: “Peewee to Junebug! Answer!”

I thought I had been monitored and was in trouble-then decided that some ham had picked me up. “Junebug here. I read you. Who are you?” The test rig echoed my words.

Then the new voice shrilled, “Peewee here! Home me in!”

This was silly. But I found myself saying, “Junebug to Peewee, shift to directional frequency at one centimeter—and keep talking, keep talking!” I shifted to the horn antenna. “Junebug, I read you. Fix me. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—”

“You’re due south of me, about forty degrees. Who are you?” It must be one of those lights. It had to be.

But I didn’t have time to figure it out. Aspace ship almost landed on me.

Chapter 4

I said “space ship,” not “rocket ship.” It made no noise but a whoosh and there weren’t any flaming jets-it seemed to move by clean living and righteous thoughts.

I was too busy keeping from being squashed to worry about details. Aspace suit in one gravity is no track suit; it’s a good thing I had practiced. The ship sat down where I had just been, occupying more than its share of pasture, a big black shape.

The other one whooshed down, too, just as a door opened in the first. Light poured through the door; two figures spilled out and started to run. One moved like a cat; the other moved clumsily and slowly-handicapped by a space suit. S’help me, a person in a space suit does look silly. This one was less than five feet tall and looked like the Gingerbread Man.

Abig trouble with a suit is your limited angle of vision. I was trying to watch both of them and did not see the second ship open. The first figure stopped, waiting for the one in the space suit to catch up, then suddenly collapsed-just a gasping sound, “Eeeah!”-and clunk.

You can tell the sound of pain. I ran to the spot at a lumbering dogtrot, leaned over and tried to see what was wrong, tilting my helmet to bring the beam of my headlight onto the ground. Abug-eyed monster-

That’s not fair but it was my first thought. I couldn’t believe it and would have pinched myself except that it isn’t practical when suited up.

An unprejudiced mind (which mine wasn’t) would have said that this monster was rather pretty. It was small, not more than half my size, and its curves were graceful, not as a girl is but more like a leopard, although it wasn’t shaped like either one. I couldn’t grasp its shape-I didn’t have any pattern to fit it to; it wouldn’t add up.

But I could see that it was hurt. Its body was quivering like a frightened rabbit. It had enormous eyes, open but milky and featureless, as if nictitating membranes were across them. What appeared to be its mouth-

That’s as far as I got. Something hit me in the spine, right between the gas bottles.

I woke up on a bare floor, staring at a ceiling. It took several moments to recall what had happened and then I shied away because it was so darn silly. I had been out for a walk in Oscar

… and then a space ship had landed … and a bug-eyed-

I sat up suddenly as I realized that Oscar was gone. Alight cheerful voice said, “Hi, there!”

I snapped my head around. Akid about ten years old was seated on the floor, leaning against a wall. He-I corrected myself. Boys don’t usually clutch rag dolls. This kid was the age when the difference doesn’t show much and was dressed in shirt, shorts and dirty tennis shoes, and had short hair, so I didn’t have much to go on but the rag dolly.

“Hi, yourself,” I answered. “What are we doing here?” “I’m surviving. I don’t know about you.”

“Huh?”

“Surviving. Pushing my breath in and out. Conserving my strength. There’s nothing else to do at the moment; they’ve got us locked in.”

I looked around. The room was about ten feet across, four-sided but wedge-shaped, and nothing in it but us. I couldn’t see a door; if we weren’t locked, we might as well be. “Who locked us in?”

“Them. Space pirates. And him.” “Space pirates? Don’t be silly!”

The kid shrugged. “Just my name for them. But better not think they’re silly if you want to keep on surviving. Are you ‘Junebug’?”

“Huh? You sound like a junebug yourself. Space pirates, my aunt!” I was worried and very confused and this nonsense didn’t help. Where was Oscar? And where was I? “No, no, not a junebug but ‘Junebug’-a radio call. You see, I’m Peewee.”

I said to myself, Kip old pal, walk slowly to the nearest hospital and give yourself up. When a radio rig you wired yourself starts looking like a skinny little girl with a rag doll, you’ve flipped. It’s going to be wet packs and tranquilizers and no excitement for you-you’ve blown every fuse.

“You’re ‘Peewee’?”

“That’s what I’m called-I’m relaxed about it. You see, I heard, ‘Junebug, calling Peewee,’ and decided that Daddy had found out about the spot I was in and had alerted people to help me land. But if you aren’t ‘Junebug,’ you wouldn’t know about that. Who are you?”

“Wait a minute, I am ‘Junebug.’ I mean I was using that call. But I’m Clifford Russell-‘Kip’ they call me.” “How do you do. Kip?” she said politely.

“And howdy to you, Peewee. Uh, are you a boy or a girl?”

Peewee looked disgusted. “I’ll make you regret that remark. I realize I am undersized for my age but I’m actually eleven, going on twelve. There’s no need to be rude. In another five years   I expect to be quite a dish-you’ll probably beg me for every dance.”

At the moment I would as soon have danced with a kitchen stool, but I had things on my mind and didn’t want a useless argument. “Sorry, Peewee. I’m still groggy. You mean you were in that first ship?”

Again she looked miffed. “I was piloting it.”

Sedation every night and a long course of psychoanalysis. At my age. “You were-piloting?”

“You surely don’t think the Mother Thing could? She wouldn’t fit their controls. She curled up beside me and coached. But if you think it’s easy, when you’ve never piloted anything but a Cessna with your Daddy at your elbow and never made any kind of landing, then think again. I did very well!-and your landing instructions weren’t too specific. What have they done with the Mother Thing?”

“The what?”

“You don’t know? Oh, dear!”

“Wait a minute, Peewee. Let’s get on the same frequency. I’m ‘Junebug’ all right and I homed you in-and if you think that’s easy, to have a voice out of nowhere demand emergency landing instructions, you better think again, too. Anyhow, a ship landed and another ship landed right after it and a door opened in the first ship and a guy in a space suit jumped out-“

“That was I.”

“-and something else jumped out-“ “The Mother Thing.”

“Only she didn’t get far. She gave a screech and flopped. I went to see what the trouble was and something hit me. The next thing I know you’re saying, ‘Hi, there.’ ” I wondered if I ought to tell her that the rest, including her, was likely a morphine dream because I was probably lying in a hospital with my spine in a cast.

Peewee nodded thoughtfully. “They must have blasted you at low power, or you wouldn’t be here. Well, they caught you and they caught me, so they almost certainly caught her. Oh, dear!   I do hope they didn’t hurt her.”

“She looked like she was dying.”

“As if she were dying,” Peewee corrected me. “Subjunctive. I rather doubt it; she’s awfully hard to kill-and they wouldn’t kill her except to keep her from escaping; they need her alive.” “Why? And why do you call her ‘the Mother Thing’?”

“One at a time, Kip. She’s the Mother Thing because … well, because she is, that’s all. You’ll know, when you meet her. As to why they wouldn’t kill her, it’s because she’s worth more as  a hostage than as a corpse-the same reason the kept me alive. Although she’s worth incredibly more than I am-they’d write me off without a blink if I became inconvenient. Or you. But since she was alive when you saw her, then it’s logical that she’s a prisoner again. Maybe right next door. That makes me feel much better.”

It didn’t make me feel better. “Yes, but where’s here?”

Peewee glanced at a Mickey Mouse watch, frowned and said, “Almost halfway to the Moon, I’d say.” “What?!”

“Of course I don’t know. But it makes sense that they would go back to their nearest base; that’s where the Mother Thing and I scrammed from.” “You’re telling me we’re in that ship?”

“Either the one I swiped or the other one. Where did you think you were, Kip? Where else could you be?” “Amental hospital.”

She looked big-eyed and then grinned. “Why, Kip, surely your grip on reality is not that weak?” “I’m not sure about anything. Space pirates-Mother Things.”

She frowned and bit her thumb. “I suppose it must be confusing. But trust your ears and eyes. My grip on reality is quite strong, I assure you- you see, I’m a genius.” She made it a statement, not a boast, and somehow I was not inclined to doubt the claim, even though it came from a skinny-shanked kid with a rag doll in her arms.

But I didn’t see how it was going to help.

Peewee went on: ” ‘Space pirates’ … mmm. Call them what you wish. Their actions are piratical and they operate in space-you name them. As for the Mother Thing … wait until you meet her.”

“What’s she doing in this hullabaloo?”

“Well, it’s complicated. She had better explain it. She’s a cop and she was after them-“ “Acop?”

“I’m afraid that is another semantic inadequacy. The Mother Thing knows what we mean by cop and I think she finds the idea bewildering if not impossible. But what would you call a person who hunts down miscreants? Acop, no?”

“Acop, yes, I guess.”

“So would I.” She looked again at her watch. “But right now I think we had better hang on. We ought to be at halfway point in a few minutes- and a skew-flip is disconcerting even if you are strapped down.”

I had read about skew-flip turn-overs, but only as a theoretical maneuver; I had never heard of a ship that could do one. If this was a ship. The floor felt as solid as concrete and as motionless. “I don’t see anything to hang on to.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. But if we sit down in the narrowest part and push against each other, I think we can brace enough not to slide around. But let’s hurry; my watch might be slow.” We sat on the floor in the narrow part where the angled walls were about five feet apart. We faced each other and pushed our shoes against each other, each of us bracing like an

Alpinist inching his way up a rock chimney-my socks against her tennis shoes, rather, for my shoes were still on my workbench, so far as I knew. I wondered if they had simply dumped

Oscar in the pasture and if Dad would find him.

“Push hard, Kip, and brace your hands against the deck.”

I did so. “How do you know when they’ll turn over, Peewee?”

“I haven’t been unconscious-they just tripped me and carried me inside-so I know when we took off. If we assume that the Moon is their destination, as it probably is, and if we assume one gravity the whole jump -which can’t be far off; my weight feels normal. Doesn’t yours?”

I considered it. “I think so.”

“Then it probably is, even though my own sense of weight may be distorted from being on the Moon. If those assumptions are correct, then it is almost exactly a three-and-a-half-hour trip and-” Peewee looked at her watch. “-E.T.A. should be nine-thirty in the morning and turn-over at seven-forty-five. Any moment now.”

“Is it that late?” I looked at my watch. “Why, I’ve got a quarter of two.”

“You’re on your zone time. I’m on Moon time-Greenwich time, that is. Oh, oh! Here we go!”

The floor tilted, swerved, and swooped like a roller coaster, and my semicircular canals did a samba. Things steadied down as I pulled out of acute dizziness. “You all right?” asked Peewee.

I managed to focus my eyes. “Uh, I think so. It felt like a one-and-a-half gainer into a dry pool.”

“This pilot does it faster than I dared to. It doesn’t really hurt, after your eyes uncross. But that settles it. We’re headed for the Moon. We’ll be there in an hour and three quarters.”

I still couldn’t believe it. “Peewee? What kind of a ship can gun at one gee all the way to the Moon? They been keeping it secret? And what were you doing on the Moon anyhow? And why were you stealing a ship?”

She sighed and spoke to her doll. “He’s a quiz kid, Madame Pompadour. Kip, how can I answer three questions at once? This is a flying saucer, and-“ “Flying saucer! Now I’ve heard everything.”

“It’s rude to interrupt. Call it anything you like; there’s nothing official about the term. Actually it’s shaped more like a loaf of pumpernickel, an oblate spheroid. That’s a shape defined-“

“I know what an oblate spheroid is,” I snapped. I was tired and upset from too many things, from a cranky air conditioner that had ruined a good pair of pants to being knocked out while on an errand of mercy. Not to mention Ace Quiggle. I was beginning to think that little girls who were geniuses ought to have the grace not to show it.

“No need to be brisk,” she said reprovingly. “I am aware that people have called everything from weather balloons to street lights ‘flying saucers.’ But it is my considered opinion-by Occam’s Razor-that-“

“Whose razor?”

“Occam’s. Least hypothesis. Don’t you know anything about logic?” “Not much.”

“Well … I suspected that about every five-hundredth ‘saucer sighting’ was a ship like this. It adds up. As for what I was doing on the Moon-” She stopped and grinned. “I’m a pest.”

I didn’t argue it.

“Along time ago when my Daddy was a boy, the Hayden Planetarium took reservations for trips to the Moon. It was just a publicity gag, like that silly soap contest recently, but Daddy got his name on the list. Now, years and years later, they are letting people go to the Moon-and sure enough, the Hayden people turned the list over to American Express- and American Express notified the applicants they could locate that they would be given preference.”

“So your father took you to the Moon?”

“Oh, heavens, no! Daddy filled out that form when he was only a boy. Now he is just about the biggest man at the Institute for Advanced Study and hasn’t time for such pleasures. And Mama wouldn’t go if you paid her. So I said I would. Daddy said ‘No!’ and Mama said Good gracious, no!’ … and so I went. I can be an awful nuisance when I put my mind on it,” she said proudly. “I have talent for it. Daddy says I’m an amoral little wretch.”

“Uh, do you suppose he might be right?”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. He understands me, whereas Mama throws up her hands and says she can’t cope. I was perfectly beastly and unbearable for two whole weeks and at last Daddy said ‘For Blank’s sake let her go! -maybe we’ll collect her insurance!’ So I did.”

“Mmmmm … that still doesn’t explain why you are here.”

“Oh, that. I was poking around where I shouldn’t, doing things they told us not to. I always get around; it’s very educational. So they grabbed me. They would rather have Daddy but they hope to swap me for him. I couldn’t let that happen, so I had to escape.”

I muttered, ” The butler did it.’ “ “What?”

“Your story has as many holes as the last Chapter of most whodunits.” “Oh. But I assure you it is the simple-oh, oh! here we go again!”

All that happened was that the lighting changed from white to blue. There weren’t any light fixtures; the whole ceiling glowed. We were still sprawled on the floor. I started to get up-and found I couldn’t.

I felt as if I had just finished a cross-country race, too weak to do anything but breathe. Blue light can’t do that; it’s merely wavelengths 4300 to 5100 angstroms and sunlight is loaded with it. But whatever they used with the blue light made us as limp as wet string.

Peewee was struggling to tell me something. “If … they’re coming for us … don’t resist … and … above all-“ The blue light changed to white. The narrow wall started to slide aside.

Peewee looked scared and made a great effort. “-above all … don’t antagonize … him.”

Two men came in, shoved Peewee aside, strapped my wrists and ankles and ran another strap around my middle, binding my arms. I started to come out of it-not like flipping a switch, as I still didn’t have energy enough to lick a stamp. I wanted to bash their heads but I stood as much chance as a butterfly has of hefting a bar bell.

They carried me out. I started to protest. “Say, where are you guys taking me? What do you think you’re doing? I’ll have you arrested. I’ll—”

“Shaddap,” said one. He was a skinny runt, fifty or older, and looked as if he never smiled. The other was fat and younger, with a petulant babyish mouth and a dimple in his chin; he looked as if he could laugh if he weren’t worried. He was worrying now.

“Tim, this can get us in trouble. We ought to space him-we ought to space both of ‘em-and tell him it was an accident. We can say they got out and tried to escape through the lock. He won’t know the dif-“

“Shaddap,” answered Tim with no inflection. He added, “You want trouble with him? You want to chew space?” “But-“

“Shaddap.”

They carried me around a curved corridor, into an inner room and dumped me on the floor.

I was face up but it took time to realize this must be the control room. It didn’t look like anything any human would design as a control room, which wasn’t surprising as no human had. Then I saw him.

Peewee needn’t have warned me; I didn’t want to antagonize him.

The little guy was tough and dangerous, the fat guy was mean and murderous; they were cherubs compared with him. If I had had my strength I would have fought those two any way they liked; I don’t think I’m too afraid of any human as long as the odds aren’t impossible.

But not him.

He wasn’t human but that wasn’t what hurt. Elephants aren’t human but they are very nice people. He was built more like a human than an elephant is but that was no help-I mean he stood erect and had feet at one end and a head at the other. He was no more than five feet tall but that didn’t help either; he dominated us the way a man dominates a horse. The torso part was as long as mine; his shortness came from very squat legs, with feet (I guess you would call them feet) which bulged out, almost disc-like. They made squashy, sucking sounds when he moved. When he stood still a tail, or third leg, extruded and turned him into a tripod-he didn’t need to sit down and I doubt if he could.

Short legs did not make him slow. His movements were blurringly fast, like a striking snake. Does this mean a better nervous system and more efficient muscles? Or a native planet with higher gravity?

His arms looked like snakes-they had more joints than ours. He had two sets, one pair where his waist should have been and another set under his head. No shoulders. I couldn’t count his fingers, or digit tendrils; they never held still. He wasn’t dressed except for a belt below and above the middle arms which carried whatever such a thing carries in place of money and keys. His skin was purplish brown and looked oily.

Whatever he was, he was not the same race as the Mother Thing.

He had a faint sweetish musky odor. Any crowded room smells worse on a hot day, but if I ever whiff that odor again, my skin will crawl and I’ll be tongue-tied with fright.

I didn’t take in these details instantly; at first all I could see was his face. A“face” is all I can call it. I haven’t described it yet because I’m afraid I’ll get the shakes. But I will, so that if you ever see one, you’ll shoot first, before your bones turn to jelly.

No nose. He was an oxygen breather but where the air went in and out I couldn’t say-some of it through the mouth, for he could talk. The mouth was the second worst part of him; in place of jawbone and chin he had mandibles that opened sideways as well as down, gaping in three irregular sides. There were rows of tiny teeth but no tongue that I could see; instead the mouth was rimmed with cilia as long as angleworms. They never stopped squirming.

I said the mouth was “second worst”; he had eyes. They were big and bulging and protected by horny ridges, two on the front of his head, set wide apart. They scanned. They scanned like radar, swinging up and down and back and forth. He never looked at you and yet was always looking at you.

When he turned around, I saw a third eye in back. I think he scanned his whole surroundings at all times, like a radar warning system.

What kind of brain can put together everything in all directions at once? I doubt if a human brain could, even if there were any way to feed in the data. He didn’t seem to have room in his head to stack much of a brain, but maybe he didn’t keep it there. Come to think of it, humans wear their brains in an exposed position; there may be better ways.

But he certainly had a brain. He pinned me down like a beetle and squeezed out what he wanted. He didn’t have to stop to brainwash me; he questioned and I gave, for an endless time-  it seemed more like days than hours. He spoke English badly but understandably. His labials were all alike-“buy” and “pie” and “vie” sounded the same. His gutturals were harsh and   his dentals had a clucking quality. But I could usually understand and when I didn’t, he didn’t threaten or punish; he just tried again. He had no expression in his speech.

He kept at it until he had found out who I was and what I did and as much of what I knew as interested him. He asked questions about how I happened to be where I was and dressed the way I was when I was picked up. I couldn’t tell whether he liked the answers or not.

He had trouble understanding what a “soda jerk” was and, while he learned about the Skyway Soap contest, he never seemed to understand why it took place. But I found that there were  a lot of things I didn’t know either-such as how many people there are on Earth and how many tons of protein we produce each year.

After endless time he had all he wanted and said, “Take it out.” The stooges had been waiting. The fat boy gulped and said, “Space him?”

He acted as if killing me or not were like saving a piece of string. “No. It is ignorant and untrained, but I may have use for it later. Put it back in the pen.” “Yes, boss.”

They dragged me out. In the corridor Fatty said, “Let’s untie his feet and make him walk.” Skinny said, “Shaddap.”

Peewee was just inside the entrance panel but didn’t move, so I guess she had had another dose of that blue-light effect. They stepped over her and dumped me. Skinny chopped me on the side of the neck to stun me. When I came to, they were gone, I was unstrapped, and Peewee was sitting by me. She said anxiously, “Pretty bad?”

“Uh, yeah,” I agreed, and shivered. “I feel ninety years old.”

“It helps if you don’t look at him-especially his eyes. Rest a while and you’ll feel better.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s only forty-five minutes till we land. You probably won’t be disturbed before then.”

“Huh?” I sat up. “I was in there only an hour?” “Alittle less. But it seems forever. I know.”

“I feel like a squeezed orange.” I frowned, remembering something. “Peewee, I wasn’t too scared when they came for me. I was going to demand to be turned loose and insist on explanations. But I never asked him a question, not one.”

“You never will. I tried. But your will just drains out. Like a rabbit in front of a snake.” “Yes.”

“Kip, do you see why I had to take just any chance to get away? You didn’t seem to believe my story-do you believe it now?” “Uh, yes. I believe it.”

“Thanks. I always say I’m too proud to care what people think, but I’m not, really. I had to get back to Daddy and tell him … because he’s the only one in the entire world who would simply believe me, no matter how crazy it sounded.”

“I see. I guess I see. But how did you happen to wind up in Centerville?” “Centerville?”

“Where I live. Where ‘Junebug’ called ‘Peewee.’ “

“Oh. I never meant to go there. I meant to land in New Jersey, in Princeton if possible, because I had to find Daddy.” “Well, you sure missed your aim.”

“Can you do better? I would have done all right but I had my elbow joggled. Those things aren’t hard to fly; you just aim and push for where you want to go, not like the complicated things they do about rocket ships. And I had the Mother Thing to coach me. But I had to slow down going into the atmosphere and compensate for Earth’s spin and I didn’t know quite how. I found myself too far west and they were chasing me and I didn’t know what to do … and then I heard you on the space-operations band and thought everything was all right-and there I was.” She spread her hands. “I’m sorry, Kip.”

“Well, you landed it. They say any landing you walk away from is a good one.” “But I’m sorry I got you mixed up in it.”

“Uh … don’t worry about that. It looks like somebody has to get mixed up in it. Peewee … what’s he up to?” “They, you mean.”

“Huh? I don’t think the other two amount to anything. He is the one.”

“I didn’t mean Tim and Jock-they’re just people gone bad. I meant them-him and others like him.”

I wasn’t at my sharpest-I had been knocked out three times and was shy a night’s sleep and more confusing things had happened than in all my life. but until Peewee pointed it out I hadn’t considered that there could be more than one like him-one seemed more than enough.

But if there was one, then there were thousands-maybe millions or billions. I felt my stomach twist and wanted to hide. “You’ve seen others?” “No. Just him. But the Mother Thing told me.”

“Ugh! Peewee … what are they up to?”

“Haven’t you guessed? They’re moving in on us.” My collar felt tight, even though it was open. “How?” “I don’t know.”

“You mean they’re going to kill us off and take over Earth?” She hesitated. “It might not be anything that nice.”

“Uh … make slaves of us?”

“You’re getting warmer. Kip-I think they eat meat.”

I swallowed. “You have the jolliest ideas, for a little girl.” “You think I like it? That’s why I had to tell Daddy.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to say. It was an old, old fear for human beings. Dad had told me about an invasion-from-Mars radio broadcast when he was a kid-pure fiction but it had scared people silly. But people didn’t believe in it now; ever since we got to the Moon and circled Mars and Venus everybody seemed to agree that we weren’t going to find life anywhere.

Now here it was, in our laps. “Peewee? Are these things Martians? Or from Venus?”

She shook her head. “They’re not from anywhere close. The Mother Thing tried to tell me, but we ran into a difficulty of understanding.”

“Inside the Solar System?”

“That was part of the difficulty. Both yes and no.” “It can’t be both.”

“You ask her.”

“I’d like to.” I hesitated, then blurted, “I don’t care where they’re from -we can shoot them down … if we don’t have to look at them!” “Oh, I hope so!”

“It figures. You say these are flying saucers … real saucer sightings, I mean; not weather balloons. If so, they have been scouting us for years. Therefore they aren’t sure of themselves, even if they do look horrible enough to curdle milk. Otherwise they would have moved in at once the way we would on a bunch of animals. But they haven’t. That means we can kill them-if we go about it right.”

She nodded eagerly. “I hope so. I hoped Daddy would see a way. But-” She frowned. “-we don’t know much about them … and Daddy always warned me not to be cocksure when data was incomplete. ‘Don’t make so much stew from one oyster, Peewee,’ he always says.”

“But I’ll bet we’re right. Say, who is your Daddy? And what’s your full name?”

“Why, Daddy is Professor Reisfeld. And my name is Patricia Wynant Reisfeld. Isn’t that awful? Better call me Peewee.” “Professor Reisfeld- What does he teach?”

“Huh? You don’t know? You don’t know about Daddy’s Nobel Prize? Or anything?” “I’m just a country boy, Peewee. Sorry.”

“You must be. Daddy doesn’t teach anything. He thinks. He thinks better than anybody … except me, possibly. He’s the synthesist. Everybody else specializes. Daddy knows everything and puts the pieces together.”

Maybe so, but I hadn’t heard of him. It sounded like a good idea … but it would take an awfully smart man-if I had found out anything, it was that they could print it faster than I could study it. Professor Reisfeld must have three heads. Five.

“Wait till you meet him,” she added, glancing at her watch. “Kip, I think we had better get braced. We’ll be landing in a few minutes … and he won’t care how he shakes up passengers.” So we crowded into the narrow end and braced each other. We waited. After a bit the ship shook itself and the floor tilted. There was a slight bump and things got steady and suddenly I

felt very light. Peewee pulled her feet under her and stood up. “Well, we’re on the Moon.”

Chapter 5

When I was a kid, we used to pretend we were making the first landing on the Moon. Then I gave up romantic notions and realized that I would have to go about it another way. But I never thought I would get there penned up, unable to see out, like a mouse in a shoe box.

The only thing that proved I was on the Moon was my weight. High gravity can be managed anywhere, with centrifuges. Low gravity is another matter; on Earth the most you can squeeze out is a few seconds going off a high board, or by parachute delay, or stunts in a plane.

If low gravity goes on and on, then wherever you are, you are not on Earth. Well, I wasn’t on Mars; it had to be the Moon.

On the Moon I should weigh a little over twenty-five pounds. It felt about so-I felt light enough to walk on a lawn and not bend the grass.

For a few minutes I simply exulted in it, forgetting him and the trouble we were in, just heel-and-toe around the room, getting the wonderful feel of it, bouncing a little and bumping my head against the ceiling and feeling how slowly, slowly, slowly I settled back to the floor. Peewee sat down, shrugged her shoulders and gave a little smile, an annoyingly patronizing one. The “Old Moon-Hand”-all of two weeks more of it than I had had.

Low gravity has its disconcerting tricks. Your feet have hardly any traction and they fly out from under you. I had to learn with muscles and reflexes what I had known only intellectually: that when weight goes down, mass and inertia do not. To change direction, even in walking, you have to lean the way you would to round a turn on a board track- and even then if you don’t have traction (which I didn’t in socks on a smooth floor) your feet go out from under you.

Afall doesn’t hurt much in one-sixth gravity but Peewee giggled. I sat up and said, “Go and laugh, smartie. You can afford to-you’ve got tennis shoes.” “I’m sorry. But you looked silly, hanging there like a slow-motion picture and grabbing air.”

“No doubt. Very funny.”

“I said I was sorry. Look, you can borrow my shoes.”

I looked at her feet, then at mine, and snorted. “Gee, thanks!”

“Well … you could cut the heels out, or something. It wouldn’t bother me. Nothing ever does. Where are your shoes. Kip?” “Uh, about a quarter-million miles away-unless we got off at the wrong stop.”

“Oh. Well, you won’t need them much, here.”

“Yeah.” I chewed my lip, thinking about “here” and no longer interested in games with gravity. “Peewee? What do we do now?” “About what?”

“About him.”

“Nothing. What can we do?” “Then what do we do?” “Sleep.”

“Huh?”

“Sleep. ‘Sleep, that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care.’ ‘Tired Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.’ ‘Blessings on him who invented sleep, the mantle that covers all human thoughts.’ “ “Quit showing off and talk sense!”

“I am talking sense. At the moment we’re as helpless as goldfish. We’re simply trying to survive-and the first principle of survival is not to worry about the impossible and concentrate on what’s possible. I’m hungry and thirsty and uncomfortable and very, very tired … and all I can do about it is sleep. So if you will kindly keep quiet, that’s what I’ll do.”

“I can take a hint. No need to snap at me.”

“I’m sorry. But I get cross as two sticks when I’m tired and Daddy says I’m simply frightful before breakfast.” She curled up in a little ball and tucked that filthy rag doll under her chin. “G’night, Kip.”

“Good night, Peewee.”

I thought of something and started to speak … and saw that she was asleep. She was breathing softly and her face had smoothed out and no longer looked alert and smart-alecky. Her upper lip pooched out in a baby pout and she looked like a dirty-faced cherub. There were streaks where she had apparently cried and not wiped it away. But she had never let me see her crying.

Kip, I said to myself, you get yourself into the darndest things; this is much worse than bringing home a stray pup or a kitten. But I had to take care of her … or die trying.

Well, maybe I would. Die trying, I mean. It didn’t look as if I were any great shakes even taking care of myself.

I yawned, then yawned again. Maybe the shrimp had more sense than I had, at that. I was more tired than I had ever been, and hungry and thirsty and not comfortable other ways. I thought about banging on the door panel and trying to attract the fat one or his skinny partner. But that would wake Peewee-and it might antagonize him.

So I sprawled on my back the way I nap on the living-room rug at home. I found that a hard floor does not require any one sleeping position on the Moon; one-sixth gravity is a better mattress than all the foam rubber ever made-that fussy princess in Hans Christian Andersen’s story would have had no complaints.

I want to sleep at once.

It was the wildest space opera I had ever seen, loaded with dragons and Arcturian maidens and knights in shining space armor and shuttling between King Arthur’s Court and the Dead Sea Bottoms of Barsoom. I didn’t mind that but I did mind the announcer. He had the voice of Ace Quiggle and the face of him. He leaned out of the screen and leered, those wormy cilia writhing. “Will Beowulf conquer the Dragon? Will Tristan return to Iseult? Will Peewee find her dolly? Tune in this channel tomorrow night and in the meantime, wake up and hurry to your neighborhood druggist for a cake of Skyway’s Kwikbrite Armor Polish, the better polish used by the better knights sans peur et sans reproche. Wake up!” He shoved a snaky arm out of  the screen and grabbed my shoulder.

I woke up.

“Wake up,” Peewee was saying, shaking my shoulder. “Please wake up, Kip.” “Lea’ me alone!”

“You were having a nightmare.”

The Arcturian princess had been in a bad spot. “Now I’ll never know how it came out. Wha’ did y’ want to wake me for? I thought the idea was to sleep?” “You’ve slept for hours-and now perhaps there is something we can do.”

“Breakfast, maybe?”

She ignored that. “I think we should try to escape.”

I sat up suddenly, bounced off the floor, settled back. “Wups! How?”

“I don’t know exactly. But I think they have gone away and left us. If so, we’ll never have a better chance.” “They have? What makes you think so?”

“Listen. Listen hard.”

I listened. I could hear my heart beat, I could hear Peewee breathing, and presently I could hear her heart beating. I’ve never heard deeper silence in a cave.

I took my knife, held it in my teeth for bone conduction and pushed it against a wall. Nothing. I tried the floor and the other walls. Still nothing. The ship ached with silence-no throb, no thump, not even those vibrations you can sense but not hear. “You’re right, Peewee.”

“I noticed it when the air circulation stopped.” I sniffed. “Are we running out of air?”

“Not right away. But the air stopped-it comes out of those tiny holes up there. You don’t notice it but I missed something when it stopped.”  I thought hard. “I don’t see where this gets us. We’re still locked up.”

“I’m not sure.”

I tried the blade of my knife on a wall. It wasn’t metal or anything I knew as plastic, but it didn’t mind a knife. Maybe the Comte de Monte Cristo could have dug a hole in it-but he had more time. “How do you figure?”

“Every time they’ve opened or closed that door panel, I’ve heard a click. So after they took you out I stuck a wad of bubble gum where the panel meets the wall, high up where they might not notice.”

“You’ve got some gum?”

“Yes. It helps, when you can’t get a drink of water. I-“

“Got any more?” I asked eagerly. I wasn’t fresh in any way but thirst was the worst-I’d never been so thirsty.

Peewee looked upset. “Oh, poor Kip! I haven’t any more … just an old wad I kept parked on my belt buckle and chewed when I felt driest.” She frowned. “But you can have it. You’re welcome.”

“Uh, thanks, Peewee. Thanks a lot. But I guess not.”

She looked insulted. “I assure you, Mr. Russell, that I do not have anything contagious. I was merely trying to-“ “Yes, yes,” I said hastily. “I’m sure you were. But-“

“I assumed that these were emergency conditions. It is surely no more unsanitary than kissing a girl-but then I don’t suppose you’ve ever kissed a girl!”

“Not lately,” I evaded. “But what I want is a drink of clear cold water- or murky warm water. Besides, you used up your gum on the door panel. What did you expect to accomplish?” “Oh. I told you about that click. Daddy says that, in a dilemma, it is helpful to change any variable, then reexamine the problem. I tried to introduce a change with my bubble gum.” “Well?”

“When they brought you back, then closed the door, I didn’t hear a click.”

“What? Then you thought you had bamboozled their lock hours and hour ago-and you didn’t tell me?” “That is correct.”

“Why, I ought to spank you!”

“I don’t advise it,” she said frostily. “I bite.”

I believed her. And scratch. And other things. None of them pleasant. I changed the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me, Peewee?” “I was afraid you might try to get out.”

“Huh? I certainly would have!”

“Precisely. But I wanted that panel closed … as long as he was out there.”

Maybe she was a genius. Compared with me. “I see your point. All right, let’s see if we can get it open.” I examined the panel. The wad of gum was there, up high as she could reach, and from the way it was mashed it did seem possible that it had fouled the groove the panel slid into, but I couldn’t see any crack down the edge.

I tried the point of my big blade on it. The panel seemed to creep to the right an eighth of an inch-then the blade broke.  I closed the stub and put the knife away. “Any ideas?”

“Maybe if we put our hands flat against it and tried to drag it?”

“Okay.” I wiped sweat from my hands on my shirt. “Now … easy does it. Just enough pressure for friction.” The panel slid to the right almost an inch-and stopped firmly.

But there was a hairline crack from floor to ceiling.

I broke off the stub of the big blade this time. The crack was no wider. Peewee said, “Oh, dear!” “We aren’t licked.” I backed off and ran toward the door.

“Toward,” not “to”-my feet skidded, I leveled off and did a leisurely bellywhopper. Peewee didn’t laugh.

I picked myself up, got against the far wall, braced one foot against it and tried a swimming racing start.

I got as far as the door panel before losing my footing. I didn’t hit it very hard, but I felt it spring. It bulged a little, then sprang back. “Wait a sec, Kip,” said Peewee. “Take your socks off. I’ll get behind you and push-my tennis shoes don’t slip.”

She was right. On the Moon, if you can’t get rubber-soled shoes, you’re better off barefooted. We backed against the far wall, Peewee behind me with her hands on my hips. “One … two

… three … Go!” We advanced with the grace of a hippopotamus.

I hurt my shoulder. But the panel sprung out of its track, leaving a space four inches wide at the bottom and tapering to the top.

I left skin on the door frame and tore my shirt and was hampered in language by the presence of a girl. But the opening widened. When it was wide enough for my head, I got down flat and peered out. There was nobody in sight-a foregone conclusion, with the noise I had made, unless they were playing cat-and-mouse. Which I wouldn’t put past them. Especially him.

Peewee started to wiggle through; I dragged her back. “Naughty, naughty! I go first.” Two more heaves and it was wide enough for me. I opened the small blade of my knife and handed it

to Peewee. “With your shield or on it, soldier.”

“You take it.”

“I won’t need it. ‘Two-Fisted Death,’ they call me around dark alleys.” This was propaganda, but why worry her? Sans pew et sans reproche- maiden-rescuing done cheaply, special rates for parties.

I eased out on elbows and knees, stood up and looked around. “Come on out,” I said quietly.

She started to, then backed up suddenly. She reappeared clutching that bedraggled dolly. “I almost forgot Madame Pompadour,” she said breathlessly.  I didn’t even smile.

“Well,” she said defensively, “I have to have her to get to sleep at night. It’s my one neurotic quirk-but Daddy says I’ll outgrow it.” “Sure, sure.”

“Well, don’t look so smug! It’s not fetishism, not even primitive animism; it’s merely a conditioned reflex. I’m aware that it’s just a doll-I’ve understood the pathetic fallacy for … oh, years and years!”

“Look, Peewee,” I said earnestly, “I don’t care how you get to sleep. Personally I hit myself over the head with a hammer. But quit yakking. Do you know the layout of these ships?” She looked around. “I think this is the ship that chased me. But it looks the same as the one I piloted.”

“All right. Should we head for the control room?” “Huh?”

“You flew the other heap. Can you fly this one?” “Unh … I guess so. Yes, I can.”

“Then let’s go.” I started in the direction they had lugged me.

“But the other time I had the Mother Thing to tell me what to do! Let’s find her.” I stopped. “Can you get it off the ground?”

“Well … yes.”

“We’ll look for her after we’re in the air-‘in space,’ I mean. If she’s aboard we’ll find her. If she’s not, there’s not a thing we can do.” “Well … all right. I see your logic; I don’t have to like it.” She tagged along. “Kip? How many gravities can you stand?”

“Huh? I haven’t the slightest idea. Why?”

“Because these things can go lots faster than I dared try when I escaped before. That was my mistake.” “Your mistake was in heading for New Jersey.”

“But I had to find Daddy!”

“Sure, sure, eventually. But you should have ducked over to Lunar Base and yelled for the Federation Space Corps. This is no job for a popgun; we need help. Any idea where we are?” “Mmm … I think so. If he took us back to their base. I’ll know when I look at the sky.”

“All right. If you can figure out where Lunar Base is from here, that’s where we’ll go. If not- Well, we’ll head for New Jersey at all the push it has.”

The control-room door latched and I could not figure out how to open it. Peewee did what she said should work-which was to tuck her little finger into a hole mine would not enter-and told me it must be locked. So I looked around.

I found a metal bar racked in the corridor, a thing about five feet long, pointed on one end and with four handles like brass knucks on the other. I didn’t know what it was-the hobgoblin equivalent of a fire ax, possibly -but it was a fine wrecking bar.

I made a shambles of that door in three minutes. We went in.

My first feeling was gooseflesh because here was where I had been grilled by him. I tried not to show it. If he turned up, I was going to let him have his wrecking bar right between his  grisly eyes. I looked around, really seeing the place for the first time. There was sort of a nest in the middle surrounded by what could have been a very fancy coffee maker or a velocipede for an octopus; I was glad Peewee knew which button to push. “How do you see out?”

“Like this.” Peewee squeezed past and put a finger into a hole I hadn’t noticed.

The ceiling was hemispherical like a planetarium. Which was what it was, for it lighted up. I gasped.

It was suddenly not a floor we were on, but a platform, apparently out in the open and maybe thirty feet in the air. Over me were star images, thousands of them, in a black “sky”-and facing toward me, big as a dozen full moons and green and lovely and beautiful, was Earth!

Peewee touched my elbow. “Snap out of it, Kip.”

I said in a choked voice, “Peewee, don’t you have any poetry in your soul?”

“Surely I have. Oodles. But we haven’t time. I know where we are, Kip -back where I started from. Their base. See those rocks with long jagged shadows? Some of them are ships, camouflaged. And over to the left- that high peak, with the saddle?-a little farther left, almost due west, is Tombaugh Station, forty miles away. About two hundred miles farther is Lunar Base and beyond is Luna City.”

“How long will it take?”

“Two hundred, nearly two hundred and fifty miles? Uh, I’ve never tried a point-to-point on the Moon-but it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” “Let’s go! They might come back any minute.”

“Yes, Kip.” She crawled into that jackdaw’s nest and bent over a sector.

Presently she looked up. Her face was white and thin and very little-girlish. “Kip … we aren’t going anywhere. I’m sorry.”  I let out a yelp. “What! What’s the matter? Have you forgotten how to run it?”

“No. The ‘brain’ is gone.” “The which?”

“The ‘brain.’ Little black dingus about the size of a walnut that fits in this cavity.” She showed me. “We got away before because the Mother Thing managed to steal one. We were locked  in an empty ship, just as you and I are now. But she had one and we got away.” Peewee looked bleak and very lost. “I should have known that he wouldn’t leave one in the control room-I guess I did and didn’t want to admit it. I’m sorry.”

“Uh … look, Peewee, we won’t give up that easily. Maybe I can make something to fit that socket.”

“Like jumping wires in a car?” She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Kip. If you put a wooden model in place of the generator in a car, would it run? I don’t know quite what it does, but   I called it the ‘brain’ because it’s very complex.”

“But-” I shut up. If a Borneo savage had a brand-new car, complete except for spark plugs, would he get it running? Echo answers mournfully. “Peewee, what’s the next best thing? Any ideas? Because if you haven’t, I want you to show me the air lock. I’ll take this-” I shook my wrecking bar “-and bash anything that comes through.”

“I’m stumped,” she admitted. “I want to look for the Mother Thing. If she’s shut up in this ship, she may know what to do.”

“All right. But first show me the air lock. You can look for her while I stand guard.” I felt the reckless anger of desperation. I didn’t see how we were ever going to get out and I was   beginning to believe that we weren’t -but there was still a reckoning due. He was going to learn that it wasn’t safe to push people around. I was sure-I was fairly sure-that I could sock him before my spine turned to jelly. Splash that repulsive head.

If I didn’t look at his eyes.

Peewee said slowly, “There’s one other thing-“ “What?”

“I hate to suggest it. You might think I was running out on you.” “Don’t be silly. If you’ve got an idea, spill it.”

“Well … there’s Tombaugh Station, over that way about forty miles. If my space suit is in the ship-“

I suddenly quit feeling like Bowie at the Alamo. Maybe the game would go an extra period- “We can walk it!”

She shook her head. “No, Kip. That’s why I hesitated to mention it. I can walk it … if we find my suit. But you couldn’t wear my suit even if you squatted.” “I don’t need your suit,” I said impatiently.

“Kip, Kip! This is the Moon, remember? No air.”

“Yes, yes, sure! Think I’m an idiot? But if they locked up your suit, they probably put mine right beside it and-“ “You’ve got a space suit?” she said incredulously.

Our next remarks were too confused to repeat but finally Peewee was convinced that I really did own a space suit, that in fact the only reason I was sending on the space-operations band twelve hours and a quarter of a million miles back was that I was wearing it when they grabbed me.

“Let’s tear the joint apart!” I said. “No-show me that air lock, then you take it apart.” “All right.”

She showed me the lock, a room much like the one we had been cooped in, but smaller and with an inner door built to take a pressure load. It was not locked. We opened it cautiously. It was empty, and its outer door was closed or we would never been able to open the inner. I said, “If Wormface had been a suspenders-and-belt man, he would have left the outer door open, even though he had us locked up. Then- Wait a second! Is there a way to latch the inner door open?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll see.” There was, a simple hook. But to make sure that it couldn’t be unlatched by button-pushing from outside I wedged it with my knife. “You’re sure this is the only air lock?” “The other ship had only one and I’m pretty certain they are alike.”

“We’ll keep our eyes open. Nobody can get at us through this one. Even old Wormface has to use an air lock.” “But suppose he opens the outer door anyhow?” Peewee said nervously. “We’d pop like balloons.”

I looked at her and grinned. “Who is a genius? Sure we would … if he did. But he won’t. Not with twenty, twenty-five tons of pressure holding it closed. As you reminded me, this is the Moon. No air outside, remember?”

“Oh.” Peewee looked sheepish.

So we searched. I enjoyed wrecking doors; Wormface wasn’t going to like me. One of the first things we found was a smelly little hole that Fatty and Skinny lived in. The door was not locked, which was a shame. That room told me a lot about that pair. It showed that they were pigs, with habits as unattractive as their morals. The room also told me that they were not casual prisoners; it had been refitted for humans. Their relationship with Wormface, whatever it was, had gone on for some time and was continuing. There were two empty racks for space suits, several dozen canned rations of the sort sold in military-surplus stores, and best of all, there was drinking water and a washroom of sorts-and something more precious than fine gold or frankincense if we found our suits: two charged bottles of oxy-helium.

I took a drink, opened a can of food for Peewee-it opened with a key; we weren’t in the predicament of the Three Men in a Boat with their tin of pineapple-told her to grab a bite, then search that room. I went on with my giant toad sticker; those charged air bottles had given me an unbearable itch to find our suits-and get out!-before Wormface returned.

I smashed a dozen doors as fast as the Walrus and the Carpenter opened oysters and found all sorts of things, including what must have been living quarters for wormfaces. But I didn’t stop to look-the Space Corps could do that, if and when-I simply made sure that there was not a space suit in any of them.

And found them!-in a compartment next to the one we had been prisoners in.

I was so glad to see Oscar that I could have kissed him. I shouted, “Hi, Pal! Mirabile visu!” and ran to get Peewee. My feet went out from under me again but I didn’t care. Peewee looked up as I rushed in. “I was just going to look for you.”

“Got it! Got it!”

“You found the Mother Thing?” she said eagerly.

“Huh? No, no! The space suits-yours and mine! Let’s go!”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed and I felt hurt. “That’s good … but we have to find the Mother Thing first.”

I felt tried beyond endurance. Here we had a chance, slim but real, to escape a fate-worse-than-death (I’m not using a figure of speech) and she wanted to hang around to search for a bug-eyed monster. For any human being, even a stranger with halitosis, I would have done it. For a dog or cat I would, although reluctantly.

But what was a bug-eyed monster to me? All this one had done was to get me into the worst jam I had ever been in.  I considered socking Peewee and stuffing her into her suit. But I said, “Are you crazy? We’re leaving-right now!”

“We can’t go till we find her.”

“Now I know you’re crazy. We don’t even know she’s here … and if we do find her, we can’t take her with us.” “Oh, but we will!”

“How? This is the Moon, remember? No air. Got a space suit for her?”

“But-” That stonkered her. But not for long. She had been sitting on the floor, holding the ration can between her knees. She stood up suddenly, bouncing a little, and said, “Do as you like; I’m going to find her. Here.” She shoved the can at me.

I should have used force. But I am handicapped by training from early childhood never to strike a female, no matter how richly she deserves it. So the opportunity and Peewee both slid past while I was torn between common sense and upbringing. I simply groaned helplessly.

Then I became aware of an unbearably attractive odor. I was holding that can. It contained boiled shoe leather and gray gravy and smelled ambrosial.

Peewee had eaten half; I ate the rest while looking at what she had found. There was a coil of nylon rope which I happily put with the air bottles; Oscar had fifty feet of clothesline clipped to his belt but that had been a penny-saving expedient. There was a prospector’s hammer which I salvaged, and two batteries which would do for headlamps and things.

The only other items of interest were a Government Printing Office publication titled Preliminary Report on Selenology, a pamphlet on uranium prospecting, and an expired Utah driver’s license for “Timothy Johnson”-I recognized the older man’s mean face. The pamphlets interested me but this was no time for excess baggage.

The main furniture was two beds, curved like contour chairs and deeply padded; they told me that Skinny and Fatty had ridden this ship at high acceleration.

When I had mopped the last of the gravy with a finger, I took a big drink, washed my hands-using water lavishly because I didn’t care if that pair died of thirst-grabbed my plunder and headed for the room where the space suits were.

As I got there I ran into Peewee. She was carrying the crowbar and looking overjoyed. “I found her!” “Where?”

“Come on! I can’t get it open, I’m not strong enough.”

I put the stuff with our suits and followed her. She stopped at a door panel farther along the corridor than my vandalism had taken me. “In there!”  I looked and I listened. “What makes you think so?”

“I know! Open it!”

I shrugged and got to work with the nutpick. The panel went sprung! and that was that. Curled up in the middle of the floor was a creature.

So far as I could tell, it might or might not have been the one I had seen in the pasture the night before. The light had been poor, the conditions very different, and my examination had ended abruptly. But Peewee was in no doubt. She launched herself through the air with a squeal of joy and the two rolled over and over like kittens play-fighting.

Peewee was making sounds of joy, more or less in English. So was the Mother Thing, but not in English. I would not have been surprised if she had spoken English, since Wormface did and since Peewee had mentioned things the Mother Thing had told her. But she didn’t.

Did you ever listen to a mockingbird? Sometimes singing melodies, sometimes just sending up a joyous noise unto the Lord? The endlessly varied songs of a mockingbird are nearest to the speech of the Mother Thing.

At last they held still, more or less, and Peewee said, “Oh, Mother Thing, I’m so happy!”

The creature sang to her. Peewee answered, “Oh. I’m forgetting my manners. Mother Thing, this is my dear friend Kip.” The Mother Thing sang to me-and I understood.

What she said was: “I am very happy to know you, Kip.” It didn’t come out in words. But it might as well have been English. Nor was this half-kidding self-deception, such as my conversations with Oscar or Peewee’s with Madame Pompadour-when I talk with Oscar I am both sides of the conversation; it’s just my conscious talking to my subconscious, or some such. This was not that.

The Mother Thing sang to me and I understood.

I was startled but not unbelieving. When you see a rainbow you don’t stop to argue the laws of optics. There it is, in the sky.

I would have been an idiot not to know that the Mother Thing was speaking to me because I did understand and understood her every time. If she directed a remark at Peewee alone, it was usually just birdsongs to me-but if it was meant for me, I got it.

Call it telepathy if you like, although it doesn’t seem to be what they do at Duke University. I never read her mind and I don’t think she read mine. We just talked.

But while I was startled, I minded my manners. I felt the way I do when Mother introduces me to one of her older grande-dame friends. So I bowed and said, “We’re very happy that we’ve found you, Mother Thing.”

It was simple, humble truth. I knew, without explanation, what it was that had made Peewee stubbornly determined to risk recapture rather than give up looking for her-the quality that made her “the Mother Thing.”

Peewee has this habit of slapping names on things and her choices aren’t always apt, for my taste. But I’ll never question this one. The Mother Thing was the Mother Thing because she was. Around her you felt happy and safe and warm. You knew that if you skinned your knee and came bawling into the house, she would kiss it well and paint it with merthiolate and everything would be all right. Some nurses have it and some teachers … and, sadly, some mothers don’t.

But the Mother Thing had it so strongly that I wasn’t even worried by Wormface. We had her with us so everything was going to be all right. I logically I knew that she was as vulnerable as we were-I had seen them strike her down. She didn’t have my size and strength, she couldn’t pilot the ship as Peewee had been able to. It didn’t matter.

I wanted to crawl into her lap. Since she was too small and didn’t have a lap, I would gratefully hold her in mine, anytime.

I have talked more about my father but that doesn’t mean that Mother is less important-just different. Dad is active, Mother is passive; Dad talks, Mother doesn’t. But if she died, Dad would wither like an uprooted tree. She makes our world.

The Mother Thing had the effect on me that Mother has, only I’m used to it from Mother. Now I was getting it unexpectedly, far from home, when I needed it. Peewee said excitedly, “Now we can go. Kip. Let’s hurry!”

The Mother Thing sang (“Where are we going, children?”) “To Tombaugh Station, Mother Thing. They’ll help us.”

The Mother Thing blinked her eyes and looked serenely sad. She had great, soft, compassionate eyes-she looked more like a lemur than anything else but she was not a primate-she wasn’t even in our sequence, unearthly. But she had these wonderful eyes and a soft, defenseless mouth out of which music poured. She wasn’t as big as Peewee and her hands were tinier still-six fingers, any one of which could oppose the others the way our thumbs can. Her body-well, it never stayed the same shape so it’s hard to describe, but it was right for her.

She didn’t wear clothes but she wasn’t naked; she had soft, creamy fur, sleek and fine as chinchilla. I thought at first she didn’t wear anything, but presently I noticed a piece of jewelry, a shiny triangle with a double spiral in each corner. I don’t know what made it stick on.

I didn’t take all this in at once. At that instant the expression in the Mother Thing’s eyes brought a crash of sorrow into the happiness I had been feeling. Her answer made me realize that she didn’t have a miracle ready (“How are we to fly the ship? They have guarded me most carefully this time.”)

Peewee explained eagerly about the space suits and I stood there like a fool, with a lump of ice in my stomach. What had been just a question of using my greater strength to force Peewee to behave was now an unsolvable dilemma. I could no more abandon the Mother Thing than I could have abandoned Peewee … and there were only two space suits.

Even if she could wear our sort, which looked as practical as roller skates on a snake.

The Mother Thing gently pointed out that her own vacuum gear had been destroyed. (I’m going to quit writing down all her songs; I don’t remember them exactly anyhow.)

And so the fight began. It was an odd fight, with the Mother Thing gentle and loving and sensible and utterly firm, and Peewee throwing a tearful, bad-little-girl tantrum-and me standing miserably by, not even refereeing.

When the Mother Thing understood the situation, she analyzed it at once to the inevitable answer. Since she had no way to go (and probably couldn’t have walked that far anyhow, even if she had had her sort of space suit) the only answer was for us two to leave at once. If we reached safety, then we would, if possible, convince our people of the danger from Wormface & Co.-in which case she might be saved as well … which would be nice but was not indispensable.

Peewee utterly, flatly, and absolutely refused to listen to any plan which called for leaving the Mother Thing behind. If the Mother Thing couldn’t go, she wouldn’t budge. “Kip! You go get help! Hurry! I’ll stay here.”

I stared at her. “Peewee, you know I can’t do that.”

“You must. You will so! You’ve got to. If you don’t, I’ll … I’ll never speak to you again!”

“If I did, I’d never speak to myself again. Look, Peewee, it won’t wash. You’ll have to go-“ “No!”

“Oh, shut up for a change. You go and I stay and guard the door with the shillelagh. I’ll hold ‘em off while you round up the troops. But tell them to hurry!” “I-” She stopped and looked very sober and utterly baffled. Then she threw herself on the Mother Thing, sobbing: “Oh, you don’t love me any more!”

Which shows how far her logic had gone to pot. The Mother Thing sang softly to her while I worried the thought that our last chance was t trickling away while we argued. Wormface might come back any second- and while I hoped to slug him a final one if he got in, more likely he had resources to outmaneuver me. Either way, we would not escape.

At last I said, “Look we’ll all go.”

Peewee stopped sobbing and looked startled. “You know we can’t.” The Mother Thing sang (“How, Kip?”)

“Uh, I’ll have to show you. Up on your feet, Peewee.” We went where the suits were, while Peewee carried Madame Pompadour and half carried the Mother Thing. Lars Eklund, the rigger who had first worn Oscar according to his log, must have weighed about two hundred pounds; in order to wear Oscar I had to strap him tight to keep from bulging. I hadn’t considered retailoring him to my size as I was afraid I would never get him gas-tight again. Arm and leg lengths were okay; it was girth that was too big.

There was room inside for both the Mother Thing and me.

I explained, while Peewee looked big-eyed and the Mother Thing sang queries and approvals. Yes, she could hang on piggy-back-and she couldn’t fall off, once we were sealed up and the straps cinched.

“All right. Peewee, get into your suit.” I went to get my socks while she started to suit up. When I came back I checked her helmet gauges, reading them backwards through her lens. “We had better give you some air. You’re only about half full.”

I ran into a snag. The spare bottles I had filched from those ghouls had screw-thread fittings like mine-but Peewee’s bottles had bayonet-and-snap joints. Okay, I guess, for tourists, chaperoned and nursed and who might get panicky while bottles were changed unless it was done fast-but not so good for serious work. In my workshop I would have rigged an adapter in twenty minutes. Here, with no real tools-well, that spare air might as well be on Earth for all the good it did Peewee.

For the first time, I thought seriously of leaving them behind while I made a fast forced march for help. But I didn’t mention it. I thought that Peewee would rather die on the way than fall back into his hands-and I was inclined to agree.

“Kid,” I said slowly, “that isn’t much air. Not for forty miles.” Her gauge was scaled in time as well as pressure; it read just under five hours. Could Peewee move as fast as a trotting horse? Even at lunar gravity? Not likely.

She looked at me soberly. “That’s calibrated for full-size people. I’m little-I don’t use much air.” “Uh … don’t use it faster than you have to.”

“I won’t. Let’s go.”

I started to close her gaskets. “Hey!” she objected. “What’s the matter?”

“Madame Pompadour! Hand her to me-please. On the floor by my feet.”

I picked up that ridiculous dolly and gave it to her. “How much air does she take?”

Peewee suddenly dimpled. “I’ll caution her not to inhale.” She stuffed it inside her shirt, I sealed her up. I sat down in my open suit, the Mother Thing crept up my back, singing reassuringly, and cuddled close. She felt good and I felt that I could hike a hundred miles, to get them both safe.

Getting me sealed in was cumbersome, as the straps had to be let out and then tightened to allow for the Mother Thing, and neither Peewee nor I had bare hands. We managed.

I made a sling from my clothesline for the spare bottles. With them around my neck, with Oscar’s weight and the Mother Thing as well, I scaled perhaps fifty pounds at the Moon’s one- sixth gee. It just made me fairly sure-footed for the first time.

I retrieved my knife from the air-lock latch and snapped it to Oscar’s belt beside the nylon rope and the prospector’s hammer. Then we went inside the air lock and closed its inner door. I didn’t know how to waste its air to the outside but Peewee did. It started to hiss out.

“You all right, Mother Thing?”

(“Yes, Kip.”) She hugged me reassuringly.

“Peewee to Junebug,” I heard in my phones: “radio check. Alfa, Bravo, Coca, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot-“ “Junebug to Peewee: I read you. Golf, Hotel, India, Juliette, Kilo-“

“I read you, Kip.” “Roger.”

“Mind your pressure. Kip. You’re swelling up too fast.” I kicked the chin valve while watching the gauge-and kicking myself for letting a little girl catch me in a greenhorn trick. But she had used a space suit before, while I had merely pretended to.

I decided this was no time to be proud. “Peewee? Give me all the tips you can. I’m new to his.” “I will, Kip.”

The outer door popped silently and swung inward-and I looked out over the bleak bright surface of a lunar plain. For a homesick moment I remembered the trip-to-the-Moon games I had played as a kid and wished I were back in Centerville. Then Peewee touched her helmet to mine. “See anyone?”

“No.”

“We’re lucky, the door faces away from the other ships. Listen carefully. We won’t use radio until we are over the horizon-unless it’s a desperate emergency. They listen on our frequencies. I know that for sure. Now see that mountain with the saddle in it? Kip, pay attention!”

“Yes.” I had been staring at Earth. She was beautiful even in that shadow show in the control room-but I just hadn’t realized. There she was, so close I could almost touch her … and so far away that we might never get home. You can’t believe what a lovely planet we have, until you see her from outside … with clouds girdling her waist and polar cap set jauntily, like a spring hat. “Yes. I see the saddle.”

“We head left of there, where you see a pass. Tim and Jock brought me through it in a crawler. Once we pick up its tracks it will be easy. But first we head for those near hills just left of that-that ought to keep this ship between us and the other ships while we get out of sight. I hope.”

It was twelve feet or so to the ground and I was prepared to jump, since it would be nothing much in that gravity. Peewee insisted on lowering me by rope. “You’ll fall over your feet. Look, Kip, listen to old Aunt Peewee. You don’t have Moon legs yet. It’s going to be like your first time on a bicycle.”

So I let her lower me and the Mother Thing while she snubbed the nylon rope around the side of the lock. Then she jumped with no trouble. I started to loop up the line but she stopped me and snapped the other end to her belt, then touched helmets. “I’ll lead. If I go too fast or you need me, tug on the rope. I won’t be able to see you.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Kip. This is serious.” “I wasn’t making fun, Peewee. You’re boss.”

“Let’s go. Don’t look back, it won’t do any good and you might fall. I’m heading for those hills.”

Chapter 6

I should have relished the weird, romantic experience, but I was as busy as Eliza crossing the ice and the things snapping at my heels were worse than bloodhounds. I wanted to look back but I was too busy trying to stay on my feet. I couldn’t see my feet; I had to watch ahead and try to pick my footing-it kept me as busy as a lumberjack in a logrolling contest. I didn’t skid as the ground was rough-dust or fine sand over raw rock- and fifty pounds weight was enough for footing. But I had three hundred pounds mass not a whit reduced by lowered weight; this does things to lifelong reflex habits. I had to lean heavily for the slightest turn, lean back and dig in to slow down, lean far forward to speed up.

I could have drawn a force diagram, but doing it is another matter. How long does it take a baby to learn to walk? This newborn Moon-baby was having to learn while making a forced march, half blind, at the greatest speed he could manage.

So I didn’t have time to dwell on the wonder of it all.

Peewee moved into a brisk pace and kept stepping it up. Every little while my leash tightened and I tried still harder to speed up and not fall down. The Mother Thing warbled at my spine: (“Are you all right. Kip? You seem worried.”)

“I’m … all right! How … about … you?”

(“I’m very comfortable. Don’t wear yourself out, dear.”) “Okay!”

Oscar was doing his job. I began to sweat from exertion and naked Sun, but I didn’t kick the chin valve until I saw from my blood-color gauge that I was short on air. The system worked perfectly and the joints, under a four-pound pressure, gave no trouble; hours of practice in the pasture was paying off. Presently my one worry was to keep a sharp eye for rocks and ruts. We were into those low hills maybe twenty minutes after H-hour. Peewee’s first swerve as we reached rougher ground took me by surprise; I almost fell.

She slowed down and crept forward into a gulch. Afew moments later she stopped; I joined her and she touched helmets with me. “How are you doing?” “Okay.”

“Mother Thing, can you hear me?” (“Yes, dear.”)

“Are you comfortable? Can you breathe all right?” (“Yes, indeed. Our Kip is taking good care of me.”) “Good. You behave yourself, Mother Thing. Hear me?”

(“I will, dear.”) Somehow she put an indulgent chuckle into a birdsong.

“Speaking of breathing,” I said to Peewee, “let’s check your air.” I tried to look into her helmet. She pulled away, then touched again. “I’m all right!”

“So you say.” I held her helmet with both hands, found I couldn’t see the dials-with sunlight around us, trying to see in was like peering into a well. “What does it read-and don’t fib.” “Don’t be nosy!”

I turned her around and read her bottle gauges. One read zero; the other was almost full. I touched helmets. “Peewee,” I said slowly, “how many miles have we come?”

“About three, I think. Why?”

“Then we’ve got more than thirty to go?”

“At least thirty-five. Kip, quit fretting. I know I’ve got one empty bottle; I shifted to the full one before we stopped.” “One bottle won’t take you thirty-five miles.”

“Yes, it will … because it’s got to.”

“Look, we’ve got plenty of air. I’ll figure a way to get it to you.” My mind was trotting in circles, thinking what tools were on my belt, what else I had. “Kip, you know you can’t hook those spare bottles to my suit-so shut up!”

(“What’s the trouble, darlings? Why are you quarreling?”) “We aren’t fighting, Mother Thing. Kip is a worry wart.” (“Now, children-“)

I said, “Peewee, I admit I can’t hook the spares into your suit … but I’ll jigger a way to recharge your bottle.” “But How, Kip?”

“Leave it to me. I’ll touch only the empty; if it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off. If it does, we’ve got it made.” “How long will it take?”

“Ten minutes with luck. Thirty without.” “No,” she decided.

“Now, Peewee, don’t be sil-“

“I’m not being silly! We aren’t safe until we get into the mountains. I can get that far. Then, when we no longer show up like a bug on a plate, we can rest and recharge my empty bottle.”  It made sense. “All right.”

“Can you go faster? If we reach the mountains before they miss us, I don’t think they’ll ever find us. If we don’t-“ “I can go faster. Except for these pesky bottles.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “Do you want to throw one away?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no! But they throw me off balance. I’ve just missed a tumble a dozen times. Peewee, can you retie them so they don’t swing?” “Oh. Sure.”

I had them hung around my neck and down my front-not smart but I had been hurried. Now Peewee lashed them firmly, still in front as my own bottles and the Mother Thing were on my back-no doubt she was finding it as crowded as Dollar Day. Peewee passed clothesline under my belt and around the yoke. She touched helmets. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Did you tie a square knot?”

She pulled her helmet away. Aminute later she touched helmets again. “It was a granny,” she admitted in a small voice, “but it’s a square knot now.” “Good. Tuck the ends in my belt so that I can’t trip, then we’ll mush. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I just wish I had salvaged my gum, old and tired as it was. My throat’s awful dry.” “Drink some water. Not too much.”

“Kip! It’s not a nice joke.”

I stared. “Peewee-your suit hasn’t any water?” “What? Don’t be silly.”

My jaw dropped. “But, baby,” I said helplessly, “why didn’t you fill your tank before we left?” “What are you talking about? Does your suit have a water tank?”

I couldn’t answer. Peewee’s suit was for tourists-for those “scenic walks amidst incomparable grandeur on the ancient face of the Moon” that the ads promised. Guided walks, of course, not over a half-hour at a time-they wouldn’t put in a water tank; some tourist might choke, or bite the nipple off and half drown in his helmet, or some silly thing. Besides, it was cheaper.

I began to worry about other shortcomings that cheap-jack equipment might have-with Peewee’s life depending on it. “I’m sorry,” I said humbly. “Look, I’ll try to figure out some way to get water to you.”

“I doubt if you can. I can’t die of thirst in the time it’ll take us to get there, so quit worrying. I’m all right. I just wish I had my bubble gum. Ready?” “Uh … ready.”

The hills were hardly more than giant folds in lava; we were soon through them, even though we had to take it cautiously over the very rough ground. Beyond them the ground looked natter than western Kansas, stretching out to a close horizon, with mountains sticking up beyond, glaring in the Sun and silhouetted against a black sky like cardboard cutouts. I tried to figure how far the horizon was, on a thousand-mile radius and a height of eye of six feet-and couldn’t do it in my head and wished for my slipstick. But it was awfully close, less than a mile.

Peewee let me overtake her, touched helmets. “Okay, Kip? All right, Mother Thing?” “Sure.”

(“All right, dear.”)

“Kip, the course from the pass when they fetched me here was east eight degrees north. I heard them arguing and sneaked a peek at their map. So we go back west eight degrees south-that doesn’t count the jog to these hills but it’s close enough to find the pass. Okay?”

“Sounds swell.” I was impressed. “Peewee, were you an Indian scout once? Or Davy Crockett?”

“Pooh! Anybody can read a map”-she sounded pleased. “I want to check compasses. What bearing do you have on Earth?”  I said silently: Oscar, you’ve let me down. I’ve been cussing her suit for not having water-and you don’t have a compass.

(Oscar protested: “Hey, pal, that’s unfair! Why would I need a compass at Space Station Two? Nobody told me I was going to the Moon.”) I said, “Peewee, this suit is for space station work. What use is a compass in space? Nobody told me I was going to the Moon.”

“But- Well, don’t stop to cry about it. You can get your directions by Earth.” “Why can’t I use your compass?”

“Don’t be silly; it’s built into my helmet. Now just a moment-” She faced Earth, moved her helmet back and forth. Then she touched helmets again. “Earth is smacko on northwest … that makes the course fifty three degrees left of there. Try to pick it out. Earth is two degrees wide, you know.”

“I knew that before you were born.”

“No doubt. Some people require a head start.” “Smart aleck!”

“You were rude first!”

“But- Sorry, Peewee. Let’s save the fights for later. I’ll spot you the first two bites.” “I won’t need them! You don’t know how nasty I can-“

“I have some idea.” (“Children! Children!”) “I’m sorry, Peewee.”

“So am I. I’m edgy. I wish we were there.”

“So do I. Let me figure the course.” I counted degrees using Earth as a yardstick. I marked a place by eye, then tried again judging fifty-three degrees as a proportion of ninety. The results didn’t agree, so I tried to spot some stars to help me. They say you can see stars from the Moon even when the Sun is in the sky. Well, you can-but not easily. I had the Sun over my shoulder but was facing Earth, almost three-quarters full, and had the dazzling ground glare as well. The polarizer cut down the glare-and cut out the stars, too.

So I split my guesses and marked the spot. “Peewee? See that sharp peak with sort of a chin on its left profile? That ought to be the course, pretty near.” “Let me check.” She tried it by compass, then touched helmets. “Nice going, Kip. Three degrees to the right and you’ve got it.”

I felt smug. “Shall we get moving?”

“Right. We go through the pass, then Tombaugh Station is due west.”

It was about ten miles to the mountains; we made short work of it. You can make time on the Moon-if it is flat and if you can keep your balance. Peewee kept stepping it up until we were almost flying, long low strides that covered ground like an ostrich-and, do you know, it’s easier fast than slow. The only hazard, after I got the hang of it, was landing on a rock or hole or something and tripping. But that was hazard enough because I couldn’t pick my footing at that speed. I wasn’t afraid of falling; I felt certain that Oscar could take the punishment. But suppose I landed on my back? Probably smash the Mother Thing to jelly.

I was worried about Peewee, too. That cut-rate tourist suit wasn’t as rugged as Oscar. I’ve read about explosive decompression-I never want to see it. Especially not a little girl. But I didn’t dare use radio to warn her even though we were probably shielded from Wormface-and if I tugged on my leash I might make her fall.

The plain started to rise and Peewee let it slow us down. Presently we were walking, then we were climbing a scree slope. I stumbled but landed on my hands and got up-one-sixth gravity has advantages as well as hazards. We reached the top and Peewee led us into a pocket in the rocks. She stopped and touched helmets. “Anybody home? You two all right?”

(“All right, dear.”)

“Sure,” I agreed. “Alittle winded, maybe.” That was an understatement but if Peewee could take it, I could.

“We can rest,” she answered, “and take it easy from here on. I wanted to get us out of the open as fast as possible. They’ll never find us here.”

I thought she was right. Awormface ship flying over might spot us, if they could see down as well as up-probably just a matter of touching a control. But our chances were better now. “This is the time to recharge your empty bottle.”

“Okay.”

None too soon-the bottle which had been almost full had dropped by a third, more like half. She couldn’t make it to Tombaugh Station on that -simple arithmetic. So I crossed my fingers and got to work. “Partner, will you untie this cat’s cradle?”

While Peewee fumbled at knots, I started to take a drink-then stopped, ashamed of myself. Peewee must be chewing her tongue to work up saliva by now-and I hadn’t been able to think of any way to get water to her. The tank was inside my helmet and there was no way to reach it without making me-and Mother Thing-dead in the process.

If I ever lived to be an engineer I’d correct that!

I decided that it was idiotic not to drink because she couldn’t; the lives of all of us might depend on my staying in the best condition I could manage. So I drank and ate three malted milk tablets and a salt tablet, then had another drink. It helped a lot but I hoped Peewee hadn’t noticed. She was busy unwinding clothesline-anyhow it was hard to see into a helmet.

I took Peewee’s empty bottle off her back, making darn sure to close her outside stop valve first-there’s supposed to be a one-way valve where an air hose enters a helmet but I no longer trusted her suit; it might have more cost-saving shortcomings. I laid the empty on the ground by a full one, looked at it, straightened up and touched helmets. “Peewee, disconnect the  bottle on the left side of my back.”

“Why, Kip?”

“Who’s doing this job?” I had a reason but was afraid she might argue. My lefthand bottle held pure oxygen; the others were oxy-helium. It was full, except for a few minutes of fiddling last night in Centerville. Since I couldn’t possibly give her bottle a full charge, the next best thing was to give her a half-charge of straight oxygen.

She shut up and removed it.

I set about trying to transfer pressure between bottles whose connections didn’t match. There was no way to do it properly, short of tools a quarter of a million miles away-or over in Tombaugh Station which was just as bad. But I did have adhesive tape.

Oscar’s manual called for two first-aid kits. I didn’t know what was supposed to be in them; the manual had simply given USAF stock numbers. I hadn’t been able to guess what would  be useful in an outside kit-a hypodermic needle, maybe, sharp enough to stab through and give a man morphine when he needed it terribly. But since I didn’t know, I had stocked inside and outside with bandage, dressings, and a spool of surgical tape.

I was betting on the tape.

I butted the mismatched hose connections together, tore off a scrap of bandage and wrapped it around the junction-I didn’t want sticky stuff on the joint; it could foul the operation on a suit. Then I taped the junction, wrapping tightly, working very painstakingly and taping three inches on each side as well as around the joint-if tape could restrain that pressure a few moments, there would still be one deuce of a force trying to drag that joint apart. I didn’t want it to pull apart at the first jolt. I used the entire roll.

I motioned Peewee to touch helmets. “I’m about to open the full bottle. The valve on the empty is already open. When you see me start to close the valve on the full one, you close the other one-fast! Got it?”

“Close the valve when you do, quickly. Roger.”

“Stand by. Get your hand on the valve.” I grabbed that lump of bandaged joint in one fist, squeezed as hard as I could, and put my other hand on the valve. If that joint let go, maybe my hand would go with it- but if the stunt failed, little Peewee didn’t have long to live. So I really gripped.

Watching both gauges, I barely cracked the valve. The hose quivered; the needle gauge that read “empty” twitched. I opened the valve wide. One needle swung left, the other right. Quickly they approached half-charge. “Now!” I yelled uselessly and started closing the valve.

And felt that patchwork joint start to give.

The hoses squeezed out of my fist but we lost only a fraction of gas. I found that I was trying to close a valve that was closed tight. Peewee had hers closed. The gauges each showed just short of half full-there was air for Peewee.

I sighed and found I had been holding my breath.

Peewee put her helmet against mine and said very soberly, “Thanks, Kip.”

“Charton Drugs service, ma’am-no tip necessary. Let me tidy this mess, you can tie me and we’ll go.” “You won’t have to carry but one extra bottle now.”

“Wrong, Peewee. We may do this stunt five or six times until there’s only a whisper left”-or until the tape wears out, I added to myself. The first thing I did was to rewrap the tape on its spool-and if you think that is easy, wearing gloves and with the adhesive drying out as fast as you wind it, try it.

In spite of the bandage, sticky stuff had smeared the connections when the hoses parted. But it dried so hard that it chipped off the bayonet-and-snap joint easily. I didn’t worry about the screw-thread joint; I didn’t expect to use it on a suit. We mounted Peewee’s recharged bottle and I warned her that it was straight oxygen. “Cut your pressure and feed from both bottles. What’s your blood color reading?”

“I’ve been carrying it low on purpose.”

“Idiot! You want to keel over? Kick your chin valve! Get into normal range!”

We mounted one bottle I had swiped on my back, tied the other and the oxy bottle on my front, and were on our way.

Earth mountains are predictable; lunar mountains aren’t, they’ve never been shaped by water. We came to a hole too steep to go down other than by rope and a wall beyond I wasn’t sure we could climb. With pitons and snap rings and no space suits it wouldn’t have been hard in the Rockies- but not the way we were. Peewee reluctantly led us back. The scree slope was worse going down-I backed down on hands and knees, with Peewee belaying the line above me. I wanted to be a hero and belay for her-we had a brisk argument. “Oh, quit being big

and male and gallantly stupid, Kip! You’ve got four big bottles and the Mother Thing and you’re top heavy and I climb like a goat.”

I shut up.

At the bottom she touched helmets. “Kip,” she said worriedly, “I don’t know what to do.” “What’s the trouble?”

“I kept a little south of where the crawler came through. I wanted to avoid crossing right where the crawler crossed. But I’m beginning to think there isn’t any other way.”  “I wish you had told me before.”

“But I didn’t want them to find us! The way the crawler came is the first place they’ll look.”

“Mmm … yes.” I looked up at the range that blocked us. In pictures, the mountains of the Moon look high and sharp and rugged; framed by the lens of a space suit they look simply impossible.

I touched helmets again. “We might find another way-if we had time and air and the resources of a major expedition. We’ve got to take the route the crawler did. Which way?”

“Alittle way north … I think.”

We tried to work north along the foothills but it was slow and difficult. Finally we backed off to the edge of the plain. It made us jumpy but it was a chance we had to take. We walked, briskly but not running, for we didn’t dare miss the crawler’s tracks. I counted paces and when I reached a thousand I tugged the line; Peewee stopped and we touched helmets. “We’ve come half a mile. How much farther do you think it is? Or could it possibly be behind us?”

Peewee looked up at the mountains. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything looks different.” “We’re lost?”

“Uh … it ought to be ahead somewhere. But we’ve come pretty far. Do you want to turn around?” “Peewee, I don’t even know the way to the post office.”

“But what should we do?”

“I think we ought to keep going until you are absolutely certain the pass can’t be any farther. You watch for the pass and I’ll watch for crawler tracks. Then, when you’re certain that we’ve come too far, we’ll turn back. We can’t afford to make short casts like a dog trying to pick up a rabbit’s scent.”

“All right.”

I had counted two thousand more paces, another mile, when Peewee stopped. “Kip? It can’t be ahead of us. The mountains are higher and solider than ever.” “You’re sure? Think hard. Better to go another five miles than to stop too short.”

She hesitated. She had her face pushed up close to her lens while we touched helmets and I could see her frown. Finally she said, “It’s not up ahead. Kip.” “That settles it. To the rear, march! ‘Lay on, Macduff, and curs’d be him who first cries, “Hold, enough!” ‘ “

“King Lear.”

“Macbeth. Want to bet?”

Those tracks were only half a mile behind us-I had missed them. They were on bare rock with only the lightest covering of dust; the Sun had been over my shoulder when we first crossed them, and the caterpillar tread marks hardly showed-I almost missed them going back. They led off the plain and straight up into the mountains.

We couldn’t possibly have crossed those mountains without following the crawler’s trail; Peewee had had the optimism of a child. It wasn’t a road; it was just something a crawler on caterpillar treads could travel. We saw places that even a crawler hadn’t been able to go until whoever pioneered it set a whopping big blast, backed off and waited for a chunk of mountain to get out of the way. I doubt if Skinny and Fatty carved that goat’s path; they didn’t look fond of hard work. Probably one of the exploration parties. If Peewee and I had attempted to break a new trail, we’d be there yet, relics for tourists of future generations.

But where a tread vehicle can go, a man can climb. It was no picnic; it was trudge, trudge, trudge, up and up and up-watch for loose rock and mind where you put your feet. Sometimes we belayed with the line. Nevertheless it was mostly just tedious.

When Peewee had used that half-charge of oxygen, we stopped and I equalized pressure again, this time being able to give her only a quarter charge-like Achilles and the tortoise. I   could go on indefinitely giving her half of what was left-if the tape held out. It was in bad shape but the pressure was only half as great and I managed to keep the hoses together until we closed valves.

I should say that I had it fairly easy. I had water, food, pills, dexedrine. The last was enormous help; any time I felt fagged I borrowed energy with a pep-pill. Poor Peewee had nothing but air and courage.

She didn’t even have the cooling I had. Since she was on a richer mix, one bottle being pure oxygen, it did not take as much flow to keep up her blood-color index-and I warned her not to use a bit more than necessary; she could not afford air for cooling, she had to save it to breathe.

“I know, Kip,” she answered pettishly. “I’ve got the needle jiggling the red light right now. Think I’m a fool?” “I just want to keep you alive.”

“All right, but quit treating me as a child. You put one foot in front of the other. I’ll make it.” “Sure you will!”

As for the Mother Thing she always said she was all right and she was breathing the air I had (a trifle used), but I didn’t know what was hard-ship to her. Hanging by his heels all day would kill a man; to a bat it is a nice rest-yet bats are our cousins.

I talked with her as we climbed. It didn’t matter what; her songs had the effect on me that it has to have your own gang cheering. Poor Peewee didn’t even have that comfort, except when we stopped and touched helmets-we still weren’t using radio; even in the mountains we were fearful of attracting attention.

We stopped again and I gave Peewee one-eighth of a charge. The tape was in very poor shape afterwards; I doubted if it would serve again. I said, “Peewee, why don’t you run your oxy- helium bottle dry while I carry this one? It’ll save your strength.”

“I’m all right.”

“Well, you won’t use air so fast with a lighter load.” “You have to have your arms free. Suppose you slip?”

“Peewee, I won’t carry it in my arms, My righthand backpack bottle is empty; I’ll chuck it. Help me make the change and I’ll still be carrying only four-just balanced evenly.”    “Sure, I’ll help. But I’ll carry two bottles. Honest, Kip, the weight isn’t anything. But if I run the oxy-helium bottle dry, what would I breathe while you’re giving me my next charge?”   I didn’t want to tell her that I had doubts about another charge, even in those ever smaller amounts. “Okay, Peewee.”

She changed bottles for me; we threw the dead one down a black hole and went on. I don’t know how far we climbed nor how long; I know that it seemed like days-though it couldn’t have been, not on that much air. During mile after mile of trail we climbed at least eight thousand feet. Heights are hard to guess-but I’ve seen mountains I knew the heights of. Look it up yourself-the first range east of Tombaugh Station.

There’s a lot of climbing, even at one-sixth gee.

It seemed endless because I didn’t know how far it was nor how long it had been. We both had watches-under our suits. Ahelmet ought to have a built-in watch. I should have read Greenwich time from the face of Earth. But I had no experience and most of the time I couldn’t see Earth because we were deep in mountains-anyhow I didn’t know what time it had been when we left the ship.

Another thing space suits should have is rear-view mirrors. While you are at it, add a window at the chin so that you can see where you step. But of the two, I would take a rear-view mirror. You can’t glance behind you; you have to turn your entire body. Every few seconds I wanted to see if they were following us-and I couldn’t spare the effort. All that nightmare trek I kept imagining them on my heels, expecting a wormy hand on my shoulder. I listened for footsteps which couldn’t be heard in vacuum anyhow.

When you buy a space suit, make them equip it with a rear-view mirror. You won’t have Wormface on your trail but it’s upsetting to have even your best friend sneak up behind you. Yes,  and if you are coming to the Moon, bring a sunshade. Oscar was doing his best and York had done an honest job on the air conditioning-but the untempered Sun is hotter than you would believe and I didn’t dare use air just for cooling, any more than Peewee could.

It got hot and stayed hot and sweat ran down and I itched all over and couldn’t scratch and sweat got into my eyes and burned. Peewee must have been parboiled. Even when the trail wound through deep gorges lighted only by reflection off the far wall, so dark that we turned on headlamps, I still was hot-and when we curved back into naked sunshine, it was almost

unbearable. The temptation to kick the chin valve, let air pour in and cool me, was almost too much. The desire to be cool seemed more important than the need to breathe an hour hence.

If I had been alone, I might have done it and died. But Peewee was worse off than I was. If she could stand it, I had to.

I had wondered how we could be so lost so close to human habitation -and how crawly monsters could hide a base only forty miles from Tombaugh Station. Well, I had time to think and could figure it out because I could see the Moon around me.

Compared with the Moon the Arctic is swarming with people. The Moon’s area is about equal to Asia-with fewer people than Centerville. It might be a century before anyone explored that plain where Wormface was based. Arocket ship passing over wouldn’t notice anything even if camouflage hadn’t been used; a man in a space suit would never go there; a man in a crawler would find their base only by accident even if he took the pass we were in and ranged around that plain. The lunar mapping satellite could photograph it and rephotograph, then a technician in London might note a tiny difference on two films. Maybe. Years later somebody might check up-if there wasn’t something more urgent to do in a pioneer outpost where everything is new and urgent.

As for radar sightings-there were unexplained radar sightings before I was born.

Wormface could sit there, as close to Tombaugh Station as Dallas is to Fort Worth, and not fret, snug as a snake under house. Too many square miles, not enough people. Too incredibly many square miles… . Our whole world was harsh bright cliffs and dark shadows and black sky, and endless putting one foot in front of the other.

But eventually we were going downhill oftener than up and at weary last we came to a turn where we could see out over a hot bright plain.

I There were mountains awfully far away; even from our height, up a thousand feet or so, they were beyond the horizon. I looked out over that plain, too dead beat to feel triumphant, then glanced at Earth and tried to estimate due west.

Peewee touched her helmet to mine. “There it is, Kip.” “Where?” She pointed and I caught a glint on a silvery dome. The Mother Thing trilled at my spine (“What is it, children?”) “Tombaugh Station, Mother Thing.”

Her answer was wordless assurance that we were good children and that she had known that we could do it.

The station may have been ten miles away. Distances were hard to judge, what with that funny horizon and never anything for comparison- I didn’t even know how big the dome was. “Peewee, do we dare use radio?”

She turned and looked back. I did also; we were about as alone as could be. “Let’s risk it.” “What frequency?”

“Same as before. Space operations. I think.”

So I tried. “Tombaugh Station. Come in, Tombaugh Station. Do you read me?” Then Peewee tried. I listened up and down the band I was equipped for. No luck.  I shifted to horn antenna, aiming at the glint of light. No answer.

“We’re wasting time, Peewee. Let’s start slogging.”

She turned slowly away. I could feel her disappointment-I had trembled with eagerness myself. I caught up with her and touched helmets. Don’t let it throw you, Peewee. They can’t listen all day for us to call. We see it, now we’ll walk it.”

“I know,” she said dully.

As we started down we lost sight of Tombaugh Station, not only from twists and turns but because we dropped it below the horizon. I kept calling as long as there seemed any hope, then shut it off to save breath and battery.

We were about halfway down the outer slope when Peewee slowed and stopped-sank to the ground and sat still. I hurried to her. “Peewee!”

“Kip,” she said faintly, “could you go get somebody? Please? You know the way now. I’ll wait here. Please, Kip?” “Peewee!” I said sharply. “Get up! You’ve got to keep moving.”

“I c- c- can’t!” She began to cry. “I’m so thirsty … and my legs-” She passed out. “Peewee!” I shook her shoulder. “You can’t quit now! Mother Thing! -you tell her!”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Keep telling her, Mother Thing!” I flopped Peewee over and got to work. Hypoxia hits as fast as a jab on the button. I didn’t need to see her blood-color index to know  it read DANGER; the gauges on her bottles told me. The oxygen bottles showed empty, the oxy-helium tank was practically so. I closed her exhaust valves, overrode her chin valve with    the outside valve and let what was left in the oxy-helium bottle flow into her suit. When it started to swell I cut back the flow and barely cracked one exhaust valve. Not until then did I close stop valves and remove the empty bottle.

I found myself balked by a ridiculous thing.

Peewee had tied me too well; I couldn’t reach the knot! I could feel it with my left hand but couldn’t get my right hand around; the bottle on my front was in the way-and I couldn’t work the knot loose with one hand.

I made myself stop panicking. My knife-of course, my knife! It was an old scout knife with a loop to hang it from a belt, which was where it was. But the map hooks on Oscar’s belt were large for it and I had had to force it on. I twisted it until the loop broke.

Then I couldn’t get the little blade open. Space-suit gauntlets don’t have thumb nails.

I said to myself: Kip, quit running in circles. This is easy. All you have to do is open a knife-and you’ve got to … because Peewee is suffocating. I looked around for a sliver of rock, anything that could pinch-hit for a thumb nail. Then I checked my belt.

The prospector’s hammer did it, the chisel end of the head was sharp enough to open the blade. I cut the clothesline away.

I was still blocked. I wanted very badly to get at a bottle on my back. When I had thrown away that empty and put the last fresh one on my back, I had started feeding from it and saved the almost-half-charge in the other one. I meant to save it for a rainy day and split it with Peewee. Now was the time-she was out of air, I was practically so in one bottle but still had that half- charge in the other-plus an eighth of a charge or less in the bottle that contained straight oxygen (the best I could hope for in equalizing pressures), I had planned to surprise her with a one-quarter charge of oxy-helium, which would last longer and give more cooling. Areal knight-errant plan, I thought. I didn’t waste two seconds discarding it.

I couldn’t get that bottle off my back!

Maybe if I hadn’t modified the backpack for nonregulation bottles I could have done it. The manual says: “Reach over your shoulder with the opposite arm, close stop valves at bottle and helmet, disconnect the shackle-” My pack didn’t have shackles; I had substituted straps. But I still don’t think you can reach over your shoulder in a pressurized suit and do anything effective. I think that was written by a man at a desk. Maybe he had seen it done under favorable conditions. Maybe he had done it, but was one of those freaks who can dislocate both shoulders. But I’ll bet a full charge of oxygen that the riggers around Space Station Two did it for each other as Peewee and I had, or went inside and deflated.

If I ever get a chance, I’ll change that. Everything you have to do in a space suit should be arranged to do in front-valves, shackles, everything, even if it is to affect something in back. We aren’t like Wormface, with eyes all around and arms that bend in a dozen places; we’re built to work in front of us-that goes triple in a space suit.

You need a chin window to let you see what you’re doing, too! Athing can look fine on paper and be utterly crumby in the field. But I didn’t waste time moaning; I had a one-eighth charge of oxygen I could reach. I grabbed it.

That poor, overworked adhesive tape was a sorry mess. I didn’t bother with bandage; if I could get the tape to stick at all I’d be happy. I handled it as carefully as gold leaf, trying to get it tight, and stopped in the middle to close Peewee’s exhaust entirely when it looked as if her suit was collapsing. I finished with trembling fingers.

I didn’t have Peewee to close a valve. I simply gripped that haywired joint in one hand, opened Peewee’s empty bottle with the other, swung over fast and opened the oxygen bottle wide- jerked my hand across and grabbed the valve of Peewee’s bottle and watched those gauges.

The two needles moved toward each other. When they slowed down I started closing her bottle-and the taped joint blew out.

I got that valve closed in a hurry; I didn’t lose much gas from Peewee’s bottle. But what was left on the supply side leaked away. I didn’t stop to worry; I peeled away a scrap of adhesive, made sure the bayonet-and-snap joint was clean, got that slightly recharged bottle back on Peewee’s suit, opened stop valves.

Her suit started to distend. I opened one exhaust valve a crack and touched helmets. “Peewee! Peewee! Can you hear me? Wake up, baby! Mother Thing!-make her wake up!” “Peewee!”

“Yes, Kip?”

“Wake up! On your feet, Champ! Get up! Honey, please get up.” “Huh? Help me get my helmet off … I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can. Kick your chin valve-feel it, taste it. Fresh air!”

She tried, feebly; I gave her a quick strong shot, overriding her chin valve from outside. “Oh!” “See? You’ve got air. You’ve got lots of air. Now get up.”

“Oh, please, just let me lie here.”

“No, you don’t! You’re a nasty, mean, spoiled little brat-and if you don’t get up, nobody will love you. The Mother Thing won’t love you. Mother Thing!-tell her!” (“Stand up, daughter!”)

Peewee tried. I helped her, once she was trying. She trembled and clung to me and I kept her from falling. “Mother Thing?” she said faintly. “I did it. You … still love me?” (“Yes, darling!”)

“I’m dizzy … and I don’t think I … can walk.”

“You don’t have to, honey,” I said gently and picked her up in my arms. “You don’t have to walk any farther.” She didn’t weigh anything.

The trail disappeared when we were down out of the foothills but the crawler’s tracks were sharp in the dust and led due west. I had my air trimmed down until the needle of the blood- color indicator hung at the edge of the danger sector. I held it there, kicking my chin valve only when it swung past into DANGER. I figured that the designer must have left some leeway,   the way they do with gasoline gauges. I had long since warned Peewee never to take her eyes off her own indicator and hold it at the danger limit. She promised and I kept reminding her.   I pressed her helmet against the yoke of mine, so that we could talk.

I counted paces and every half-mile I told Peewee to call Tombaugh Station. It was over the horizon but they might have a high mast that could “see” a long way. The Mother Thing talked to her, too-anything to keep her from slipping away again. It saved my strength to have the Mother Thing talk and was good for all of us.

After a while I noticed that my needle had drifted into the red again. I kicked the valve and waited. Nothing happened. I kicked it again and the needle drifted slowly toward the white. “How you fixed for air, Peewee?”

“Just fine. Kip, just fine.”

Oscar was yelling at me. I blinked and noticed that my shadow had disappeared. It had been stretched out ahead at an angle to the tracks, the tracks were there but my shadow was not. That made me sore, so I turned around and looked for it. It was behind me.

The darn thing had been hiding. Games! (“That better!” said Oscar.)

“It’s hot in here, Oscar.”

(“You think it’s cool out here? Keep your eye on that shadow, bud-and on those tracks.”)

“All right, all right! Quit pestering me.” I made up my mind that I wouldn’t let that shadow get away again. Games it wanted to play, huh? “There’s darn little air in here, Oscar.”

(“Breathe shallow, chum. We can make it.”) “I’m breathing my socks, now.”

(“So breathe your shirt.”)

“Did I see a ship pass over?”

(“How should I know? You’re the one with the blinkers.”) “Don’t get smart. I’m in no mood to joke.”

I was sitting on the ground with Peewee across my knees and Oscar was really shouting-and so was the Mother Thing. (“Get up, you big ape! Get up and try.”) (“Get up, Kip dear! Only a little way now.”)

“I just want to get my wind.”

(“All right, you’ve got it. Call Tombaugh Station.”) I said, “Peewee, call Tombaugh Station.”

She didn’t answer. That scared me and I snapped out of it. “Tombaugh Station,, come in! Come in!” I got to my knees and then to my feet. Tombaugh Station, do you read me? Help! Help!”

Avoice answered, “I read you.”

“Help! M’aidez! I’ve got a little girl dying! Help!”

Suddenly it sprang up in front of my eyes-great shiny domes, tall towers, radio telescopes, a giant Schmidt camera. I staggered toward it. “May Day!”

An enormous lock opened and a crawler came toward me. Avoice in my phones said, “We’re coming. Stay where you are. Over and out.”

Acrawler stopped near me. Aman got out, came over and touched helmets. I gasped: “Help me get her inside.”

I got back: “You’ve given me trouble, bub. I don’t like people who give me trouble.” Abigger, fatter man got out behind him. The smaller man raised a thing like a camera and aimed it at me. That was the last I knew.

Chapter 7

I don’t know if they took us all that weary way back in the crawler, or if Wormface sent a ship. I woke up being slapped and was inside, lying down. The skinny one was slapping me-the man the fat one called “Tim.” I tried to fight back and found that I couldn’t. I was in a straitjacket thing that held me as snugly as a wrapped mummy. I let out a yelp.

Skinny grabbed my hair, jerked my head up, tried to put a big capsule into my mouth. I tried to bite him.

He slapped me harder and offered me the capsule again. His expression didn’t change-it stayed mean.

I heard: “Take it, boy,” and turned my eyes. The fat one was on the other side. “Better swallow it,” he said. “You got five bad days ahead.”

I took it. Not because of the advice but because a hand held my nose and another popped the pill into my mouth when I gasped. Fatty held a cup of water for me to wash it down; I didn’t resist that, I needed it.

Skinny stuck a hypodermic needle big enough for a horse into my shoulder. I told him what I thought of him, using words I hardly ever use. The skinny one could have been deaf; the fat one chuckled. I rolled my eyes at him. “You, too,” I added weakly. “Squared.”

Fatty clucked reprovingly. “You ought to be glad we saved your life.” He added, “Though it wasn’t my idea, you strike me as a sorry team. He wanted you alive.” “Shaddap,” Skinny said. “Strap his head.”

“Let him break his neck. We better fix our ourselves. He won’t wait.” But he started to obey. Skinny glanced at his watch. “Four minutes.”

The fat one hastily tightened a strap across my forehead, then both moved very fast, swallowing capsules, giving each other hypos. I watched as best I could.

I was back in the ship. The ceiling glowed the same way, the walls looked the same. It was the room the two men used; their beds were on each side and I was strapped to a soft couch between them.

Each hurriedly got on his bed, began zipping up a tight wrapping like a sleeping bag. Each strapped his head in place before completing the process. I was not interested in them. “Hey! What did you do with Peewee?”

The fat man chuckled. “Hear that, Tim? That’s a good one.” “Shaddap.”

“You-” I was about to sum up Fatty’s character but my thoughts got fuzzy and my tongue was thick. Besides, I wanted to ask about the Mother Thing, too.  I did not get out another word. Suddenly I was incredibly heavy and the couch was rock hard.

For a long, long time I wasn’t awake or truly asleep. At first I couldn’t feel anything but that terrible weight, then I hurt all over and wanted to scream. I didn’t have the strength for it.

Slowly the pain went away and I stopped feeling anything. I wasn’t a body-just me, no attachments. I dreamed a lot and none of it made sense; I seemed to be stuck in a comic book, the sort P.T.A. meetings pass resolutions against, and the baddies were way ahead no matter what I did.

Once the couch gave a twisting lurch and suddenly I had a body, one that was dizzy. After a few ages I realized vaguely that I had gone through a skew-flip turn-over. I had known, during lucid moments, that I was going somewhere, very fast, at terribly high acceleration. I decided solemnly that we must be halfway and tried to figure out how long two times eternity was. It kept coming out eighty-five cents plus sales tax; the cash register rang “NO SALE” and I would start over.

Fats was undoing my head strap. It stuck and skin came away. “Rise and shine, bub. Time’s awastin’.” Acroak was all I managed. The skinny one was unwrapping me. My legs sagged apart and hurt. “Get up!” I tried and didn’t make it. Skinny grabbed one of my legs and started to knead it.

I screamed.

“Here, lemme do that,” said Fatty. “I used to be a trainer.”

Fats did know something about it. I gasped when his thumbs dug into my calves and he stopped. “Too rough?” I couldn’t answer. He went on massaging me and said almost jovially, “Five days at eight gravities ain’t no joy ride. But you’ll be okay. Got the needle, Tim?”

The skinny one jabbed me in my left thigh. I hardly felt it. Fats pulled me to a sitting position and handed me a cup. I thought it was water; it wasn’t and I choked and sprayed. Fats waited, then gave it to me again. “Drink some, this time.” I did.

“Okay, up on your feet. Vacation is over.”

The floor swayed and I had to grab him until it stopped. “Where are we?” I said hoarsely.

Fats grinned, as if he knew an enormously funny joke. “Pluto, of course. Lovely place, Pluto. Asummer resort.” “Shaddap. Get him moving.”

“Shake it up, kid. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Pluto! It couldn’t be; nobody could get that far. Why, they hadn’t even attempted Jupiter’s moons yet. Pluto was so much farther that.

My brain wasn’t working. The experience just past had shaken me so badly that I couldn’t accept the fact that the experience itself proved that I was wrong. But Pluto!

I wasn’t given time to wonder; we got into space suits. Although I hadn’t known, Oscar was there, and I was so glad to see him that I forgot everything else. He hadn’t been racked, just tossed on the floor. I bent down (discovering charley horses in every muscle) and checked him. He didn’t seem hurt.

“Get in it,” Fats ordered. “Quit fiddlin’.”

“All right,” I answered almost cheerfully. Then I hesitated. “Say-I haven’t any air.”

“Take another look,” said Fats. I looked. Charged oxy-helium bottles were on the backpack. “Although,” he continued, “if we didn’t have orders from him, I wouldn’t give you a whiff of Limburger. You made us for two bottles-and a rock hammer-and a line that cost four ninety-five, earthside. Sometime,” he stated without rancor, “I’m gonna take it out of your hide.”

“Shaddap,” said Skinny. “Get going.”

I spread Oscar open, wriggled in, clipped on the blood-color reader, and zipped the gaskets. Then I stood up, clamped my helmet, and felt better just to be inside. “Tight?” (“Tight!” Oscar agreed.)

“We’re a long way from home.”

(“But we got air! Chin up, pal.”)

Which reminded me to check the chin valve. Everything was working. My knife was gone and so were the hammer and line, but those were incidentals. We were tight.

I followed Skinny out with Fats behind me. We passed Wormface in the corridor-or a wormface-but while I shuddered, I had Oscar around me and felt that he couldn’t get at me. Another creature joined us in the air lock and I had to look twice to realize that it was a wormface in a space suit. The material was smooth and did not bulge the way ours did. It looked like a   dead tree trunk with bare branches and heavy roots, but the supreme improvement was its “helmet”-a glassy smooth dome. One-way glass, I suppose; I couldn’t see in. Cased that way,  a wormface was grotesquely ridiculous rather than terrifying. But I stood no closer than I had to.

Pressure was dropping and I was busy wasting air to keep from swelling up. It reminded me of what I wanted most to know: what had happened to Peewee and the Mother Thing. So I keyed my radio and announced: “Radio check. Alfa, Bravo, Coca-“

“Shaddap that nonsense. We want you, we’ll tell you.” The outer door opened and I had my first view of Pluto.

I don’t know what I expected. Pluto is so far out that they can’t get decent photographs even at Luna Observatory. I had read articles in the Scientific American and seen pictures in LIFE, bonestelled to look like photographs, and remembered that it was approaching its summer-if “summer” is the word for warm enough to melt air. I recalled that because they had announced that Pluto was showing an atmosphere as it got closer to the Sun.

But I had never been much interested in Pluto-too few facts and too much speculation, too far away and not desirable real estate. By comparison the Moon was a choice residential  suburb. Professor Tombaugh (the one the station was named for) was working on a giant electronic telescope to photograph it, under a Guggenheim grant, but he had a special interest; he discovered Pluto years before I was born.

The first thing I noticed as the door was opening was click … click … click-and a fourth click, in my helmet, as Oscar’s heating units all cut in.

The Sun was in front of me-I didn’t realize what it was at first; it looked no bigger than Venus or Jupiter does from Earth (although much brighter). With no disc you could be sure of, it looked like an electric arc.

Fats jabbed me in the ribs. “Snap out of your hop.”

Adrawbridge joined the door to an elevated roadway that led into the side of a mountain about two hundred yards away. The road was supported on spidery legs two or three feet high up to ten or twelve, depending on the lay of the land. The ground was covered with snow, glaringly white even under that pinpoint Sun. Where the stilts were longest, about halfway, the   viaduct crossed a brook.

What sort of “water” was that? Methane? What was the “snow”? Solid ammonia? I didn’t have tables to tell me what was solid, what was liquid, and what was gas at whatever hellish cold Pluto enjoyed in the “summer.” All I knew was that it got so cold in its winter that it didn’t have any gas or liquid-just vacuum, like the Moon.

I was glad to hurry. Awind blew from our left and was not only freezing that side of me in spite of Oscar’s best efforts, it made the footing hazardous-I decided it would be far safer to do that forced march on the Moon again than to fall into that “snow.” Would a man struggle before he shattered himself and his suit, or would he die as he hit?

Adding to hazard of wind and no guard rail was traffic, space-suited wormfaces. They moved at twice our speed and shared the road the way a dog does a bone. Even Skinny resorted to fancy footwork and I had three narrow squeaks.

The way continued into a tunnel; ten feet inside a panel snapped out of the way as we got near it. Twenty feet beyond was another; it did the same and closed behind us. There were about two dozen panels, each behaving like fast-acting gate valves, and the pressure was a little higher after each. I couldn’t see what operated them although it was light in the tunnel from glowing ceilings. Finally we passed through a heavy-duty air lock, but the pressure was already taken care of and its doors stood open. It led into a large room.

Wormface was inside. The Wormface, I think, because he spoke in English: “Come!” I heard it through my helmet. But I couldn’t be sure it was he as there were others around and I would have less trouble telling wart hogs apart.

Wormface hurried away. He was not wearing a space suit and I was relieved when he turned because I could no longer see his squirming mouth; but it was only a slight improvement as  it brought into sight his rearview eye.

We were hard put to keep up. He led us down a corridor, to the right through another open double set of doors, and finally stopped suddenly just short of a hole in the floor about like a sewer manhole. “Undress it!” he commanded.

Fats and Skinny had their helmets open, so I knew it was safe, in one way. But in every other way I wanted to stay inside Oscar-as long as Wormface was around. Fats undamped my helmet. “Out of that skin, bub. Snap it up!” Skinny loosened my belt and they quickly had the suit off even though I hindered.

Wormface waited. As soon as I was out of Oscar he pointed at the hole. “Down!” I gulped. That hole looked as deep as a well and less inviting.

“Down,” he repeated. “Now.”

“Do it, bub,” Fats advised. “Jump or be pushed. Get down that hole before he gets annoyed.” I tried to run.

Wormface was around me and chivvying me back before I was well started. I slammed on the brakes and backed up-glanced behind just in time to turn a fall into a clumsy jump.

It was a long way to the bottom. Landing did not hurt the way it would have on Earth, but I turned an ankle. That didn’t matter; I wasn’t going anywhere; the hole in the ceiling was the only exit.

My cell was about twenty feet square. It was, I suppose, carved out of solid rock, although there was no way to tell as the walls and floor and ceiling were the same elephant hide used in the ship. Alighting panel covered half the ceiling and I could have read if I’d had anything to read. The only other detail was a jet of water that splashed out of a hole in the wall, landed in a depression the size of a washtub, and departed for parts unknown.

The place was warm, which was well as there was nothing resembling bed or bedclothes. I had already concluded that I might be here quite a while and was wondering about eating and sleeping.

I decided I was tired of this nonsense. I had been minding my own business, out back of my own house. Everything else was Wormface’s fault! I sat down on the floor and thought about slow ways to kill him.

I finally gave up that foolishness and wondered about Peewee and the Mother Thing. Were they here? Or were they dead somewhere between the mountains and Tombaugh Station? Thinking it over glumly, I decided that poor little Peewee was best off if she had never wakened from that second coma. I wasn’t sure about the Mother Thing because I didn’t know enough about her-but in Peewee’s case I was sure.

Well, there was a certain appropriateness to the fix I was in; a knight-errant usually lands in a dungeon at some point. But by rights, the maiden fair ought to be imprisoned in a tower in the same castle. Sorry, Peewee; as a knight-errant, I’m a good soda jerk. Or jerk. “His strength is as the strength of ten because his heart is pure.”

It wasn’t funny.

I got tired of punishing myself and looked to see what time it was-not that it mattered. But a prisoner is traditionally expected to scratch marks on the wall, tallying the days he’s been in, so I thought I might as well start. My watch was on my wrist but not running and I couldn’t start it. Maybe eight gees was too much for it, even though it was supposed to be shockproof, waterproof, magnetism-proof, and immune to un-American influences.

After a while I lay down and went to sleep. I was awakened by a clatter.

It was a ration can hitting the floor and the fall hadn’t helped it, but the key was on it and I got it open-corned beef hash and very good, too. I used the empty can to drink from-the water

might be poisoned, but did I have a choice?-and then washed the can so that it wouldn’t smell.

The water was warm. I took a bath.

I doubt if many American citizens during the past twenty years have ever needed a bath as much as I did. Then I washed my clothes. My shirt, shorts, and socks were wash-and-wear synthetics; my slacks were denim and took longer to dry, but I didn’t mind; I just wished that I had one of the two hundred bars of Skyway Soap that were home on the floor of my closet. If I had known I was coming to Pluto, I would have brought one.

Washing clothes caused me to take inventory. I had a handkerchief, sixty-seven cents in change, a dollar bill so sweat-soaked and worn that it was hard to make out Washington’s  picture, a mechanical pencil stamped “Jay’s Drive-In-the thickest malts in town!”-Acanard; I make the thickest-and a grocery list I should have taken care of for Mother but hadn’t because of that silly air conditioner in Charton’s Drugstore. It wasn’t as bedraggled as the dollar bill because it had been in my shirt pocket.

I lined up my assets and looked at them. They did not look like a collection that could be reworked into a miracle weapon with which I would blast my way out, steal a ship, teach myself to pilot it, and return triumphantly to warn the President and save the country. I rearranged them and they still didn’t.

I was correct. They weren’t.

I woke up from a terrible nightmare, remembered where I was, and wished I were back in the nightmare. I lay there feeling sorry for myself and presently tears started welling out of my eyes while my chin trembled. I had never been badgered “not to be a crybaby”; Dad says there is nothing wrong with tears; it’s just that they are socially not acceptable- he says that in some cultures weeping is a social grace. But in Horace Mann Grammar School being a crybaby was no asset; I gave it up years ago. Besides, it’s exhausting and gets you nowhere. I shut off the rain and took stock.

My action list ran like this:

  1. Escape from this cell.
  2. Find Oscar, suit up.
  3. Go outdoors, steal a ship, head home-if I could figure out how to gun it.
  • Figure out a weapon or stratagem to fight off the wormfaces or keep them busy while I sneaked out and grabbed a ship. Nothing to it. Any superman capable of teleportation and other assorted psionic tricks could do it. Just be sure the plan is foolproof and that your insurance is paid up.
  • Crash priority: make sure, before bidding farewell to the romantic shores of exotic Pluto and its friendly colorful natives, that neither Peewee nor the Mother Thing is here-if they are,  take them along-because, contrary to some opinions, it is better to be a dead hero than a live louse. Dying is messy and inconvenient but even a louse dies someday no matter what he will do to stay alive and he is forever having to explain his choice. The gummed-up spell that I had had at the hero business had shown that it was undesirable work but the alternative was still less attractive.

The fact that Peewee knew how to gun those ships, or that the Mother Thing could coach me, did not figure. I can’t prove that, but I know.

Footnote: after I learned to run one of their ships, could I do so at eight gravities? That may simply call for arch supports for a wormface but I knew what eight gees did to me. Automatic pilot? If so, would it have directions on it, in English? (Don’t be silly, Clifford!)

Subordinate footnote: how long would it take to get home at one gravity? The rest of the century? Or just long enough to starve to death?

  • Occupational therapy for the lulls when I went stale on the problems. This was important in order to avoid coming apart at the seams. 0. Henry wrote stories in prison, St. Paul turned  out his strongest epistles incarcerated in Rome, Hitler wrote Mein Kampf in jail-next time I would bring a typewriter and paper. This time I could work out magic squares and invent chess problems. Anything was better than feeling sorry for myself. Lions put up with zoos and wasn’t I smarter than a lion? Some, anyhow?

And so to work- One: how to get out of this hole? I came up with a straight-forward answer: there wasn’t any way. The cell was twenty feet on a side with a ceiling twelve feet high; the    walls were as smooth as a baby’s cheek and as impervious as a bill collector. The other features were the hole in the ceiling, which ran about six feet still higher, the stream of water and its catch basin, and a glowing area in the ceiling. For tools I had the stuff previously listed (a few ounces of nothing much, nothing sharp, nor explosive, nor corrosive), my clothes, and an empty tin can.

I tested how high I could jump. Even a substitute guard needs springs in his legs-I touched the ceiling. That meant a gravity around one-half gee-I hadn’t been able to guess, as I had spent an endless time under one-sixth gravity followed by a few eons at eight gees; my reflexes had been mistreated.

But, although I could touch the ceiling, I could neither walk on it nor levitate. I could get that high, but there was nothing a mouse could cling to.

Well, I could rip my clothes and braid a rope. Was there anything near the hole on which to catch it? All I could recall was smooth floor. But suppose it did catch? What next? Paddle around in my skin until Wormface spotted me and herded me back down, this time with no clothes? I decided to postpone the rope trick until I worked out that next step which would confound Wormface and his tribe.

I sighed and looked around. All that was left was that jet of water and the floor basin that caught it.

There is a story about two frogs trapped in a crock of cream. One sees how hopeless it is, gives up and drowns. The other is too stupid to know he’s licked; he keeps on paddling. In a few hours he has churned so much butter that it forms an island, on which he floats, cool and comfortable, until the milkmaid comes and chucks him out.

That water spilled in and ran out. Suppose it didn’t run out?

I explored the bottom of the catch basin. The drain was large by our standards, but I thought I could plug it. Could I stay afloat while the room filled up, filled the hole above, and pushed me out the spout? Well, I could find out, I had a can.

The can looked like a pint and a “pint’s a pound the world ‘round” and a cubic foot of water weighs (on Earth) a little over sixty pounds. But I had to be sure. My feet are eleven inches long; they’ve been that size since I was ten-I took a lot of ribbing until I grew up to them. I marked eleven inches on the floor with two pennies. It turns out that a dollar bill is two and a half   inches wide and quarter is a smidgeon under an inch. Shortly I knew the dimensions of room and can pretty accurately.

I held the can under the stream, letting it fill and dumping it fast, while I ticked off cans of water on my left hand and counted seconds. Eventually I calculated how long it would take to fill the room. I didn’t like the answer, so I did it over.

It would take fourteen hours to fill the room and the hole above, plus an hour to allow for crude methods. Could I stay afloat that long? You’re darn tootin’ I could!-if I had to. And I had to. There isn’t any limit to how long a man can float if he doesn’t panic.

I balled my slacks and stuffed them in the drain. I almost lost them, so I wrapped them around the can and used the bundle as a cork. It stayed put and I used the rest of my clothes to caulk it. Then I waited, feeling cocky. Maybe the flood would create the diversion I needed for the rest of the caper. Slowly the basin filled.

The water got about an inch below floor level and stopped.

Apressure switch, I suppose. I should have known that creatures who could build eight-gee, constant-boost ships would design plumbing to “fail-safe.” I wish we could.   I recovered my clothes, all but one sock, and spread them to dry. I hoped the sock would foul a pump or something but I doubted it; they were good engineers.

I never really believed that story about the frogs.

Another can was tossed down-roast beef and soggy potatoes. It was filling but I began to long for peaches. The can was stenciled “Available for subsidized resale on Luna” which made  it possible that Skinny and Fatty had come by this food honestly. I wondered how they liked sharing their supplies? No doubt they did so only because Wormface had twisted their arms. Which made me wonder why Wormface wanted me alive? I was in favor of it but couldn’t see why he was. I decided to call each can a “day” and let the empties be my calendar.

Which reminded me that I had not worked out how long it would take to get home on a one-gee boost, if it turned out that I could not arrange automatic piloting at eight gees. I was stymied on getting out of the cell, I hadn’t even nibbled at what I would do if I did get out (correction: when I got out), but I could work ballistics.

I didn’t need books. I’ve met people, even in this day and age, who can’t tell a star from a planet and who think of astronomical distances simply as “big.” They remind me of those primitives who have just four numbers: one, two, three, and “many.” But any tenderfoot Scout knows the basic facts and a fellow bitten by the space bug (such as myself) usually knows a number of figures.

“Mother very thoughtfully made a jelly sandwich under no protest.” Could you forget that after saying it a few times? Okay, lay it out so: Mother  MERCURY$.39

Very VENUS $.72 Thoughtfully TERRA$1.00 Made MARS $1.50

AASTEROIDS (assorted prices, unimportant) Jelly JUPITER $5.20

Sandwich SATURN $9.50 Under URANUS $19.00 No NEPTUNE $30.00

Protest PLUTO $39.50

The “prices” are distances from the Sun in astronomical units. An A.U. is the mean distance of Earth from Sun, 93,000,000 miles. It is easier to remember one figure that everybody knows and some little figures than it is to remember figures in millions and billions. I use dollar signs because a figure has more flavor if I think of it as money-which Dad considers deplorable. Some way you must remember them, or you don’t know your own neighborhood.

Now we come to a joker. The list says that Pluto’s distance is thirty-nine and a half times Earth’s distance. But Pluto and Mercury have very eccentric orbits and Pluto’s is a dilly; its distance varies almost two billion miles, more than the distance from the Sun to Uranus. Pluto creeps to the orbit of Neptune and a hair inside, then swings way out and stays there a couple of centuries-it makes only four round trips in a thousand years.

But I had seen that article about how Pluto was coming into its “summer.” So I knew it was close to the orbit of Neptune now, and would be for the rest of my life-my life expectancy in Centerville; I didn’t look like a preferred risk here. That gave an easy figure-30 astronomical units.

Acceleration problems are simple s=1/2 at2; distance equals half the acceleration times the square of elapsed time. If astrogation were that simple any sophomore could pilot a rocket ship-the complications come from gravitational fields and the fact that everything moves fourteen directions at once. But I could disregard gravitational fields and planetary motions; at the speeds a wormface ship makes neither factor matters until you are very close. I wanted a rough answer.

I missed my slipstick. Dad says that anyone who can’t use a slide rule is a cultural illiterate and should not be allowed to vote. Mine is a beauty- a K&E 20” Log-log Duplex Decitrig. Dad surprised me with it after I mastered a ten-inch polyphase. We ate potato soup that week-but Dad says you should always budget luxuries first. I knew where it was. Home on my desk.

No matter. I had figures, formula, pencil and paper.

First a check problem. Fats had said “Pluto,” “five days,” and “eight gravities.”

It’s a two-piece problem; accelerate for half time (and half distance); do a skew-flip and decelerate the other half time (and distance). You can’t use the whole distance in the equation, as “time” appears as a square-it’s a parabolic. Was Pluto in opposition? Or quadrature? Or conjunction? Nobody looks at Pluto-so why remember where it is on the ecliptic? Oh, well, the average distance was 30 A.U.s-that would give a close-enough answer. Half that distance, in feet, is: 1/2 x 30 x 93,000,000 x 5280. Eight gravities is: 8 x 32.2 ft./sec./sec.-speed increases by 258 feet per second every second up to skew-flip and decreases just as fast thereafter.

So- 1/2 x 30 x 93,000,000 x 5280 = 1/2 x 8 x 32.2 x t2 -and you wind up with the time for half the trip, in seconds. Double that for full trip. Divide by 3600 to get hours; divide by 24 and you have days. On a slide rule such a problem takes forty seconds, most of it to get your decimal point correct. It’s as easy as computing sales tax.

It took me at least an hour and almost as long to prove it, using a different sequence-and a third time, because the answers didn’t match (I had forgotten to multiply by 5280, and had “miles” on one side and “feet” on the other-a no-good way to do arithmetic)-then a fourth time because my confidence was shaken. I tell you, the slide rule is the greatest invention since girls.

But I got a proved answer. Five and a half days. I was on Pluto. Or maybe Neptune-

No, on Neptune I would not be able to jump to a twelve-foot ceiling; Pluto alone matched all facts. So I erased and computed the trip at one gravity, with turnover. Fifteen days.

It seemed to me that it ought to take at least eight times as long at one gee as at eight-more likely sixty-four. Then I was glad I had bulled my way through analytical geometry, for I made a rough plot and saw the trouble. Squared time cut down the advantage-because the more boost, the shorter the trip, and the shorter the trip the less time in which to use the built-up   speed. To cut time in half, you need four times as much boost; to cut it to a quarter, you need sixteen times the boost, and so on. This way lies bankruptcy.

To learn that I could get home in about two weeks at one gravity cheered me. I couldn’t starve in two weeks. If I could steal a ship. If I could run it. If I could climb out of this hole. If- Not “if,” but “when!” I was too late for college this year; fifteen more days wouldn’t matter.

I had noticed, in the first problem, the speed we had been making at skew-flip. More than eleven thousand miles per second. That’s a nice speed, even in space. It made me think. Consider the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, four and three-tenths light-years away, the distance you hear so often on quiz shows. How long at eight gees?

The problem was the same sort but I had to be careful about decimal points; the figures mount up. Alightyear is-I had forgotten. So multiply 186,000 miles per second (the speed of light) by the seconds in a year (365.25 x 24 x 3600) and get-5,880,000,000,000 miles -multiply that by 4.3 and get- 25,284,000,000,000 Call it twenty-five trillion miles. Whew!

It works out to a year and five months-not as long as a trip around the Horn only last century. Why, these monsters had star travel!

I don’t know why I was surprised; it had been staring me in the face. I had assumed that Wormface had taken me to his home planet, that he was a Plutonian, or Plutocrat, or whatever the word is. But he couldn’t be.

He breathed air. He kept his ship warm enough for me. When he wasn’t in a hurry, he cruised at one gee, near enough. He used lighting that suited my eyes. Therefore he came from the sort of planet I came from.

Proxima Centauri is a double star, as you know if you do crossword puzzles, and one is a twin for our own Sun-size, temperature, special pattern. Is it a fair guess that it has a planet like Earth? I had a dirty hunch that I knew Wormface’s home address.

I knew where he didn’t come from. Not from a planet that runs a couple of centuries in utter airlessness with temperatures pushing absolute zero, followed by a “summer” in which some gases melt but water is solid rock and even Wormface has to wear a space suit. Nor from anywhere in our system, for I was sure as taxes that Wormface felt at home only on a planet    like ours. Never mind the way he looked; spiders don’t look like us but they like the things we like-there must be a thousand spiders in our houses for every one of us.

Wormface and his kin would like Earth. My fear was that they liked it too much.

I looked at that Proxima Centauri problem and saw something else. The turn-over speed read 1,110,000 miles per second, six times the speed of light. Relativity theory says that’s impossible.

I wanted to talk to Dad about it. Dad reads everything from The Anatomy of Melancholy to Acta Mathematica and Paris-Match and will sit on a curbstone separating damp newspapers wrapped around garbage in order to see continued-on-page-eight. Dad would haul down a book and we’d look it up. Then he would try four or five more with other opinions. Dad doesn’t hold with the idea that it-must-be-true-or-they-wouldn’t-have-printed-it; he doesn’t consider any opinion sacred-it shocked me the first time he took out a pen and changed something in one of my math books.

Still, even if speed-of-light was a limit, four or five years wasn’t impossible, or even impractical. We’ve been told for so long that star trips, even to the nearest stars, would take generations that we may have a wrong slant. Amile of lunar mountains is a long way but a trillion miles in empty space may not be.

But what was Wormface doing on Pluto?

If you were invading another solar system, how would you start? I’m not joking; a dungeon on Pluto is no joke and I never laughed at Wormface. Would you just barge in, or toss your hat   in first? They seemed far ahead of us in engineering but they couldn’t have known that ahead of time. Wouldn’t it be smart to build a supply base in that system in some spot nobody ever visited?

Then you could set up advance bases, say on an airless satellite of a likely-looking planet, from which you could scout the surface of the target planet. If you lost your scouting base, you would pull back to main base and work out a new attack.

Remember that while Pluto is a long way off to us, it was only five days from Luna for Wormface. Think about World War II, back when speeds were slow. Main Base is safely out of reach (U.S.A./Pluto) but only about five days from advance base (England/The Moon) which is three hours from theater-of-operations (France-Germany/Earth). That’s a slow way to operate but it worked for the Allies in World War II.

I just hoped it would not work for Wormface’s gang. Though I didn’t see anything to prevent it.

Somebody chucked down another can-spaghetti and meat balls. If it had been canned peaches, I might not have had the fortitude to do what I did next, which was to use it for a hammer before I opened it. I beat an empty can into a flat narrow shape and beat a point on it, which I sharpened on the edge of the catch basin. When I was through, I had a dagger -not a good one, but it made me feel less helpless.

Then I ate. I felt sleepy and went to sleep in a warm glow. I was still a prisoner but I had a weapon of sorts and I believed that I had figured out what I was up against. Getting a problem analyzed is two-thirds of solving it. I didn’t have nightmares.

The next thing tossed down the hole was Fats.

Skinny landed on him seconds later. I backed off and held my dagger ready. Skinny ignored me, picked himself up, looked around, went to the water spout and got a drink. Fats was in no shape to do anything; his breath was knocked out.

I looked at him and thought what a nasty parcel he was. Then I thought, oh, what the deuce!-he had massaged me when I needed it. I heaved him onto his stomach and began artificial respiration. In four or five pushes his motor caught and he was able to breathe. He gasped, “That’s enough!”

I backed off, got my knife out. Skinny was sitting against a wall, ignoring us. Fats looked at my feeble weapon and said, “Put that away, kid. We’re bosom buddies now.” “We are?”

“Yeah. Us human types had better stick together.” He sighed wretchedly. “After all we done for him! That’s gratitude.” “What do you mean?” I demanded.

“Huh?” said Fats. “Just what I said. He decided he could do without us. So Annie doesn’t live here any more.” “Shaddap,” the skinny one said flatly.

Fats screwed his face into a pout. “You shaddap,” he said peevishly. “I’m tired of that. It’s shaddap here, shaddap there, all day long-and look where we are.” “Shaddap, I said.”

Fats shut up. I never did find out what had happened, because Fats seldom gave the same explanation twice. The older man never spoke except for that tiresome order to shut up, or in monosyllables even less helpful. But one thing was clear: they had lost their jobs as assistant gangsters, or fifth columnists, or whatever you call a human being who would stooge against his own race. Once Fats said, “Matter of fact, it’s your fault.”

“Mine?” I dropped my hand to my tin-can knife.

“Yours. If you hadn’t butted in, he wouldn’t have got sore.” “I didn’t do anything.”

“Says you. You swiped his two best prizes, that’s all, and held him up when he planned to high-tail it back here.” “Oh. But that wasn’t your fault.” “So I told him. You try telling him. Take your hand away from that silly nail file.” Fats shrugged. “Like I always say, let bygones be bygones.”

I finally learned the thing I wanted most to know. About the fifth time I brought up the matter of Peewee, Fats said, “What d’you want to know about the brat for?” “I just want to know whether she’s alive or dead.”

“Oh, she’s alive. Leastwise she was last time I seen her.” “When was that?”

“You ask too many questions. Right here.” “She’s here?” I said eagerly.

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Around everywhere and always underfoot. Living like a princess, if you ask me.” Fats picked his teeth and frowned. “Why he should make a pet out of her and treat us the way he did, beats me. It ain’t right.”

I didn’t think so, either, but for another reason. The idea that gallant little Peewee was the spoiled darling of Wormface I found impossible to believe. There was some explanation-or Fats was lying. “You mean he doesn’t have her locked up?”

“What’s it get him? Where’s she gonna go?”

I pondered that myself. Where could you go?-when to step outdoors was suicide. Even if Peewee had her space suit (and that, at least, was probably locked up), even if a ship was at hand and empty when she got outside, even if she could get into it, she still wouldn’t have a “ship’s brain,” the little gadget that served as a lock. “What happened to the Mother Thing?”

“The what?”

“The-” I hesitated. “Uh, the non-human who was in my space suit with me. You must know, you were there. Is she alive? Is she here?” But Fats was brooding. “Them bugs don’t interest me none,” he said sourly and I could get no more out of him.

But Peewee was alive (and a hard lump in me was suddenly gone). She was here! Her chances, even as a prisoner, had been enormously better on the Moon; nevertheless I felt almost ecstatic to know that she was near. I began thinking about ways to get a message to her.

As for Fats’ insinuation that she was playing footy with Wormface, it bothered me not at all. Peewee was unpredictable and sometimes a brat and often exasperating, as well as conceited, supercilious, and downright childish. But she would be burned alive rather than turn traitor. Joan of Arc had not been made of sterner stuff.

We three kept uneasy truce. I avoided them, slept with one eye open, and tried not to sleep unless they were asleep first, and I always kept my dagger at hand. I did not bathe after they joined me; it would have put me at a disadvantage. The older one ignored me, Fats was almost friendly. I pretended not to be afraid of my puny weapon, but I think he was. The reason I think so comes from the first time we were fed. Three cans dropped from the ceiling; Skinny picked up one, Fats got one, but when I circled around to take the third, Fats snatched it.

I said, “Give me that, please.”

Fats grinned. “What makes you think this is for you, sonny boy?” “Uh, three cans, three people.”

“So what? I’m feeling a mite hungry. I don’t hardly think I can spare it.” “I’m hungry, too. Be reasonable.”

“Mmmm-” He seemed to consider it. “Tell you what. I’ll sell it to you.”

I hesitated. It had a shifty logic; Wormface couldn’t walk into Lunar Base commissary and buy these rations; probably Fats or his partner had bought them. I wouldn’t mind signing I.O.U.s-a hundred dollars a meal, a thousand, or a million; money no longer meant anything. Why not humor him?

No! If I gave in, if I admitted I had to dicker with him for my prison rations, he would own me. I’d wait on him hand and foot, do anything he told me, just to eat.  I let him see my tin dagger. “I’ll fight you for it.”

Fats glanced at my hand and grinned broadly. “Can’t you take a joke?”

He tossed me the can. There was no trouble at feeding times after that, We lived like that “Happy Family” you sometimes see in traveling zoos: a lion caged with a lamb. It is a startling exhibit but the lamb has to be replaced frequently. Fats liked to talk and I learned things from him, when I could sort out truth from lies. His name-so he said-was Jacques de Barre de Vigny (“Call me ‘Jock.’ “) and the older man was Timothy Johnson-but I had a hunch that their real names could be learned only by inspecting post office bulletin boards. Despite Jock’s pretense of knowing everything, I soon decided that he knew nothing about Wormface’s origin and little about his plans and purposes. Wormface did not seem the sort to discuss things with “lower animals”; he would simply make use of them, as we use horses.

Jock admitted one thing readily. “Yeah, we put the snatch on the brat. There’s no uranium on the Moon; those stories are just to get suckers. We were wasting our time-and a man’s got to eat, don’t he?”

I didn’t make the obvious retort; I wanted information. Tim said, “Shaddap!”

“Aw, what of it, Tim? You worried about the F.B.I.? You think the Man can put the arm on you-here?” “Shaddap, I said.”

“Happens I feel like talking. So blow it.” Jock went on, “It was easy. The brat’s got more curiosity than seven cats. He knew she was coming and when.” Jock looked thoughtful. “He  always knows-he’s got lots of people working for him, some high up. All I had to do was be in Luna City and get acquainted-I made the contact because Tim here ain’t the fatherly type,  the way I am. I get to talking with her, I buy her a coke, I tell her about the romance of hunting uranium on the Moon and similar hogwash. Then I sigh and say it’s too bad I can’t show her the mine of my partner and I. That’s all it took. When the tourist party visited Tombaugh Station, she got away and sneaked out the lock-she worked that part out her ownself. She’s sly,  that one. All we had to do was wait where I told her -didn’t even have to be rough with her until she got worried about taking longer for the crawler to get to our mine than I told her.” Jock grinned. “She fights pretty well for her weight. Scratched me some.”

Poor little Peewee! Too bad she hadn’t drawn and quartered him! But the story sounded true, for it was the way Peewee would behave-sure of herself, afraid of no one, unable to resist any “educational” experience.

Jock went on, “It wasn’t the brat he wanted. He wanted her old man. Had some swindle to get him to the Moon, didn’t work.” Jock grinned sourly. “That was a bad time, things ain’t good when he don’t have his own way. But he had to settle for the brat. Tim here pointed out to him he could trade.”

Tim chucked in one word which I took as a general denial. Jock raised his eyebrows. “Listen to vinegar puss. Nice manners, ain’t he?”

Maybe I should have kept quiet since I was digging for facts, not philosophy. But I’ve got Peewee’s failing myself; when I don’t understand, I have an unbearable itch to know why. I didn’t (and don’t) understand what made Jock tick. “Jock? Why did you do it?”

“Huh?”

“Look, you’re a human being.” (At least he looked like one.) “As you pointed out, we humans had better stick together. How could you bring yourself to kidnap a little girl-and turn her over to him?”

“Are you crazy, boy?” “I don’t think so.”

“You talk crazy. Have you ever tried not doing something he wanted? Try it some time.”

I saw his point. Refusing Wormface would be like a rabbit spitting in a snake’s eye-as I knew too well. Jock went on, “You got to understand the other man’s viewpoint. Live and let live, I always say. We got grabbed while we were messin’ around, lookin’ for carnotite-and after that, we never stood no chance. You can’t fight City Hall, that gets you nowhere. So we made a dicker-we run his errands, he pays us in uranium.”

My faint sympathy vanished. I wanted to throw up. “And you got paid?” “Well … you might say we got time on the books.”

I looked around our cell. “You made a bad deal.”

Jock grimaced, looking like a sulky baby. “Maybe so. But be reasonable, kid. You got to cooperate with the inevitable. These boys are moving in-they got what it takes. You seen that yourself. Well, a man’s got to look out for number one, don’t he? It’s a cinch nobody else will. Now I seen a case like this when I was no older than you and it taught me a lesson. Our town had run quietly for years, but the Big Fellow was getting old and losing his grip … whereupon some boys from St. Louis moved in. Things were confused for a while. Aman had to know which way to jump-else he woke up wearing a wooden overcoat, like as not. Those that seen the handwriting made out; those that didn’t … well, it don’t do no good to buck the current, I always say. That makes sense, don’t it?”

I could follow his “logic”-provided you accepted his “live louse” standard. But he had left out a key point. “Even so. Jock, I don’t see how you could do that to a little girl.” “Huh? I just explained how we couldn’t help it.”

“But you could. Even allowing how hard it is to face up to him and refuse orders, you had a perfect chance to duck out.” “Wha’ d’you mean?”

“He sent you to Luna City to find her, you said so. You’ve got a return-fare benefit-I know you have, I know the rules. All you had to do was sit tight, where he couldn’t reach you-and take the next ship back to Earth. You didn’t have to do his dirty work.”

“But-“

I cut him off. “Maybe you couldn’t help yourself, out in a lunar desert. Maybe you wouldn’t feel safe even inside Tombaugh Station. But when he sent you into Luna City, you had your chance. You didn’t have to steal a little girl and turn her over to a-a bug-eyed monster!”

He looked baffled, then answered quickly. “Kip, I like you. You’re a good boy. But you ain’t smart. You don’t understand.”

“I think I do!”

“No, you don’t.” He leaned toward me, started to put a hand on my knee; I drew back. He went on, “There’s something I didn’t tell you … for fear you’d think I was a-well, a zombie, or something. They operated on us.”

“Huh?”

“They operated on us,” he went on glibly. “They planted bombs in our heads. Remote control, like a missile. Aman gets out of line … he punches a button-blooie! Brains all over the ceiling.” He fumbled at the nape of his neck. “See the scar? My hair’s getting kind o’ long … but if you look close I’m sure you’ll see it; it can’t ‘ave disappeared entirely. See it?”

I started to look. I might even have been sold on it-I had been forced to believe less probable things lately. Tim cut short my suspended judgment with one explosive word. Jock flinched, then braced himself and said, “Don’t pay any attention to him!”

I shrugged and moved away. Jock didn’t talk the rest of that “day.” That suited me.

The next “morning” I was roused by Jock’s hand on my shoulder. “Wake up, Kip! Wake up!”

I groped for my toy weapon. “It’s over there by the wall,” Jock said, “but it ain’t ever goin’ to do you any good now.”  I grabbed it. “What do you mean? Where’s Tim?”

“You didn’t wake up?” “Huh?”

“This is what I’ve been scared of. Cripes, boy! I just had to talk to somebody. You slept through it?” “Through what? And where’s Tim?”

Jock was shivering and sweating. “They blue-lighted us, that’s what. They took Tim.” He shuddered. “I’m glad it was him. I thought-well, maybe you’ve noticed I’m a little stout … they like fat.”

“What do you mean? What have they done with him?”

“Poor old Tim. He had his faults, like anybody, but-He’s soup, by now … that’s what.” He shuddered again. “They like soup-bones and all.” “I don’t believe it. You’re trying to scare me.”

“So?” He looked me up and down. “They’ll probably take you next. Son, if you’re smart, you’ll take that letter opener of yours over to that horse trough and open your veins. It’s better that way.”

I said, “Why don’t you? Here, I’ll lend it to you.” He shook his head and shivered. “I ain’t smart.”

I don’t know what became of Tim. I don’t know whether the wormfaces ate people, or not. (You can’t say “cannibal.” We may be mutton, to them.) I wasn’t especially scared because I had long since blown all fuses in my “scare” circuits.

What happens to my body after I’m through with it doesn’t matter to me. But it did to Jock; he had a phobia about it. I don’t think Jock was a coward; cowards don’t even try to become prospectors on the Moon. He believed his theory and it shook him. He halfway admitted that he had more reason to believe it than I had known. He had been to Pluto once before, so he said, and other men who had come along, or been dragged, on that trip hadn’t come back.

When feeding time came-two cans-he said he wasn’t hungry and offered me his rations. That “night” he sat up and kept himself awake. Finally I just had to go to sleep before he did.   I awoke from one of those dreams where you can’t move. The dream was correct; sometime not long before, I had surely been blue-lighted.

Jock was gone.

I never saw either of them again.

Somehow I missed them … Jock at least. It was a relief not to have to watch all the time, it was luxurious to bathe. But it gets mighty boring, pacing your cage alone.  I have no illusions about them. There must be well over three billion people I would rather be locked up with. But they were people.

Tim didn’t have anything else to recommend him; he was as coldly vicious as a guillotine. But Jock had some slight awareness of right and wrong, or he wouldn’t have tried to justify himself. You might say he was just weak.

But I don’t hold with the idea that to understand all is to forgive all; you follow that and first thing you know you’re sentimental over murderers and rapists and kidnappers and forgetting their victims. That’s wrong. I’ll weep over the likes of Peewee, not over criminals whose victims they are. I missed Jock’s talk but if there were some way to drown such creatures at birth, I’d take my turn as executioner. That goes double for Tim.

If they ended up as soup for hobgoblins, I couldn’t honestly be sorry- even though it might be my turn tomorrow. As soup, they probably had their finest hour.

Chapter 8

I was jarred out of useless brain-cudgeling by an explosion, a sharp crack -a bass rumble-then a whoosh! of reduced pressure. I bounced to my feet-anyone who has ever depended on  a space suit is never again indifferent to a drop in pressure.

I gasped, “What the deuce!”

Then I added, “Whoever is on watch had better get on the ball-or we’ll all be breathing thin cold stuff.” No oxygen outside, I was sure-or rather the astronomers were and I didn’t want to test it.

Then I said, “Somebody bombing us? I hope. “Or was it an earthquake?”

This was not an idle remark. That Scientific American article concerning “summer” on Pluto had predicted “sharp isostatic readjustments” as the temperature rose-which is a polite way of saying, “Hold your hats! Here comes the chimney!”

I was in an earthquake once, in Santa Barbara; I didn’t need a booster shot to remember what every Californian knows and others learn in one lesson: when the ground does a jig, get outdoors!

Only I couldn’t.

I spent two minutes checking whether adrenalin had given me the strength to jump eighteen feet instead of twelve. It hadn’t. That was all I did for a half-hour, if you don’t count nail biting. Then I heard my name! “Kip! Oh, Kip!”

“Peewee!” I screamed. “Here! Peewee!”

Silence for an eternity of three heartbeats- “Kip?” “Down HERE!”

“Kip? Are you down this hole?”

“Yes! Can’t you see me?” I saw her head against the light above. “Uh, I can now. Oh, Kip, I’m so glad!”

“Then why are you crying? So am I!”

“I’m not crying,” she blubbered. “Oh Kip … Kip.” “Can you get me out?”

“Uh-” She surveyed that drop. “Stay where you are.” “Don’t go ‘way!” She already had.

She wasn’t gone two minutes; it merely seemed like a week. Then she was back and the darling had a nylon rope! “Grab on!” she shrilled.

“Wait a sec. How is it fastened?” “I’ll pull you up.”

“No, you won’t-or we’ll both be down here. Find somewhere to belay it.” “I can lift you.”

“Belay it! Hurry!”

She left again, leaving an end in my hands. Shortly I heard very faintly: “On belay!”

I shouted, “Testing!” and took up the slack. I put my weight on it-it held. “Climbing!” I yelled, and followed the final “g” up the hole and caught it.

She flung herself on me, an arm around my neck, one around Madame Pompadour, and both of mine around her. She was even smaller and skinnier than I remembered. “Oh, Kip, it’s been just awful.”

I patted her bony shoulder blades. “Yeah, I know. What do we do now? Where’s W-“ I started to say, “Where’s Wormface?” but she burst into tears.

“Kip-I think she’s dead!”

My mind skidded-I was a bit stir-crazy anyhow. “Huh? Who?”

She looked as amazed as I was confused. “Why, the Mother Thing.”

“Oh.” I felt a flood of sorrow. “But, honey, are you sure? She was talking to me all right up to the last-and I didn’t die.” “What in the world are you talk- Oh. I don’t mean then. Kip; I mean now.”

“Huh? She was here?” “Of course. Where else?”

Now that’s a silly question, it’s a big universe. I had decided long ago that the Mother Thing couldn’t be here-because Jock had brushed off the subject. I reasoned that Jock would either have said that she was here or have invented an elaborate lie, for the pleasure of lying. Therefore she wasn’t on his list-perhaps he had never seen her save as a bulge under my suit.

I was so sure of my “logic” that it took a long moment to throw off prejudice and accept fact. “Peewee,” I said, gulping, “I feel like I’d lost my own mother. Are you sure?”  ” ‘Feel as if,’ ” she said automatically. “I’m not sure sure … but she’s outside-so she must be dead.”

“Wait a minute. If she’s outside, she’s wearing a space suit? Isn’t she?” “No, no! She hasn’t had one-not since they destroyed her ship.”

I was getting more confused. “How did they bring her in here?”

“They just sacked her and sealed her and carried her in. Kip-what do we do now?”

I knew several answers, all of them wrong-I had already considered them during my stretch in jail. “Where is Wormface? Where are all the wormfaces?”

“Oh. All dead. I think.”

“I hope you’re right.” I looked around for a weapon and never saw a hallway so bare. My toy dagger was only eighteen feet away but I didn’t feel like going back down for it. “What makes you think so?”

Peewee had reason to think so. The Mother Thing didn’t look strong enough to tear paper but what she lacked in beef she made up in brains. She had done what I had tried to do: reasoned out a way to take them all on. She had not been able to hurry because her plan had many factors all of which had to mesh at once and many of them she could not influence; she had to wait for the breaks.

First, she needed a time when there were few wormfaces around. The base was indeed a large supply dump and space port and transfer point, but it did not need a large staff. It had been unusually crowded the few moments I had seen it, because our ship was in.

Second, it also had to be when no ships were in because she couldn’t cope with a ship-she couldn’t get at it.

Third, H-Hour had to be while the wormfaces were feeding. They all ate together when there were few enough not to have to use their mess hall in relays-crowded around one big tub and sopping it up, I gathered -a scene out of Dante. That would place all her enemies on one target, except possibly one or two on engineering or communication watches.

“Wait a minute!” I interrupted. “You said they were all dead?” “Well … I don’t know. I haven’t seen any.”

“Hold everything until I find something to fight with.” “But-“

“First things first, Peewee.”

Saying that I was going to find a weapon wasn’t finding one. That corridor had nothing but more holes like the one I had been down- which was why Peewee had looked for me there; it was one of the few places where she had not been allowed to wander at will. Jock had been correct on one point: Peewee-and the Mother Thing-had been star prisoners, allowed all privileges except freedom … whereas Jock and Tim and myself had been third-class prisoners and/or soup bones. It fitted the theory that Peewee and the Mother Thing were hostages rather than ordinary P.W.s.

I didn’t explore those holes after I looked down one and saw a human skeleton-maybe they got tired of tossing food to him. When I straightened up Peewee said, “What are you shaking about?”

“Nothing. Come on.” “I want to see.”

“Peewee, every second counts and we’ve done nothing but yak. Come on. Stay behind me.”

I kept her from seeing the skeleton, a major triumph over that little curiosity box-although it probably would not have affected her much; Peewee was sentimental only when it suited her. “Stay behind me” had the correct gallant sound but it was not based on reason. I forgot that attack could come from the rear-I should have said:

“Follow me and watch behind us.”

She did anyway. I heard a squeal and whirled around to see a wormface with one of those camera-like things aimed at me. Even though Tim had used one on me I didn’t realize what it was; for a moment I froze.

But not Peewee. She launched herself through the air, attacking with both hands and both feet in the gallant audacity and utter recklessness of a kitten.

That saved me. Her attack would not have hurt anything but another kitten but it mixed him up so that he didn’t finish what he was doing, namely paralyzing or killing me; he tripped over her and went down.

And I stomped him. With my bare feet I stomped him, landing on that lobster-horror head with both feet. His head crunched. It felt awful.

It was like jumping on a strawberry box. It splintered and crunched and went to pieces. I cringed at the feel, even though I was in an agony to fight, to kill. I trampled worms and hopped away, feeling sick. I scooped up Peewee and pulled her back, as anxious to get clear as I had been to Join battle seconds before.

I hadn’t killed it. For an awful moment I thought I was going to have to wade back in. Then I saw that while it was alive, it did not seem aware of us. It flopped like a chicken freshly chopped, then quieted and began to move purposefully.

But it couldn’t see. I had smashed its eyes and maybe its ears-but certainly those terrible eyes.

It felt around the floor carefully, then got to its feet, still undamaged except that its head was a crushed ruin. It stood still, braced tripod-style by that third appendage, and felt the air. I pulled us back farther.

It began to walk. Not toward us or I would have screamed. It moved away, ricocheted off a wall, straightened out, and went back the way we had come. t reached one of those holes they used for prisoners, walked into it and dropped. I sighed, and realized that I had been holding Peewee too tightly to breathe. I put her down.

“There’s your weapon,” she said. “Huh?”

“On the floor. Just beyond where I dropped Madame Pompadour. The gadget.” She went over, picked up her dolly, brushed away bits of ruined wormface, then took the camera-like thing and handed it to me. “Be careful. Don’t point it toward you. Or me.”

“Peewee,” I said faintly, “don’t you ever have an attack of nerves?”

“Sure I do. When I have leisure for it. Which isn’t now. Do you know how to work it?” “No. Do you?”

“I think so. I’ve seen them and the Mother Thing told me about them.” She took it, handling it casually but not pointing it at either of us. “These holes on top-uncover one of them, it stuns. If you uncover them all, it kills. To make it work you push it here.” She did and a bright blue light shot out, splashed against the wall. “The light doesn’t do anything,” she added. “It’s for aiming. I hope there wasn’t anybody on the other side of that wall. No, I hope there was. You know what I mean.”

It looked like a cockeyed 35 mm. camera, with a lead lens-one built from an oral description. I took it, being very cautious where I pointed it, and looked at it. Then I tried it-full power, by mistake.

The blue light was a shaft in the air and the wall where it hit glowed and began to smoke. I shut it off. “You wasted power,” Peewee chided. “You may need it later.”

“Well, I had to try it. Come on, let’s go.”

Peewee glanced at her Mickey Mouse watch-and I felt irked that it had apparently stood up when my fancy one had not. “There’s very little time. Kip. Can’t we assume that only this one escaped?”

“What? We certainly cannot! Until we’re sure that all of them are dead, we can’t do anything else. Come on.”

“But- Well, I’ll lead. I know my way around, you don’t.” “No.”

“Yes!”

So we did it her way; she led and carried the blue-light projector while I covered the rear and wished for a third eye, like a wormface. I couldn’t argue that my reflexes were faster when they weren’t, and she knew more than I did about our weapon.

But it’s graveling, just the same.

The base was huge; half that mountain must have been honeycombed. We did it at a fast trot, ignoring things as complicated as museum exhibits and twice as interesting, simply making sure that no wormface was anywhere. Peewee ran with the weapon at the ready, talking twenty to the dozen and urging me on.

Besides an almost empty base, no ships in, and the wormfaces feeding, the Mother Thing’s plan required that all this happen shortly before a particular hour of the Plutonian night. “Why?” I panted.

“So she could signal her people, of course.”

“But-” I shut up. I had wondered about the Mother Thing’s people but didn’t even know as much about her as I did about Wormface- except that she was everything that made her the Mother Thing. Now she was dead-Peewee said that she was outside without a space suit, so she was surely dead; that little soft warm thing wouldn’t last two seconds in that ultra-arctic weather. Not to mention suffocation and lung hemorrhage. I choked up.

Of course, Peewee might be wrong. I had to admit that she rarely was- but this might be one of the times … in which case we would find her. But if we didn’t find her, she was outside and- “Peewee, do you know where my space suit is?”

“Huh? Of course. Right next to where I got this.” She patted the nylon rope, which she had coiled around her waist and tied with a bow. “Then the second we are sure that we’ve cleaned out the wormfaces I’m going outside and look for her!”

“Yes, yes! But we’ve got to find my suit, too. I’m going with you.”

No doubt she would. Maybe I could persuade her to wait in the tunnel out of that bone-freezing wind. “Peewee, why did she have to send her message at night? To a ship in a rotation- period orbit? Or is there-“

My words were chopped off by a rumble. The floor shook in that loose-bearing vibration that frightens people and animals alike. We stopped dead. “What was that?” Peewee whispered.   I swallowed. “Unless it’s part of this rumpus the Mother Thing planned-“

“It isn’t. I think.” “It’s a quake.”

“An earthquake?”

“APluto quake. Peewee, we’ve got to get out of here!”

I wasn’t thinking about where-you don’t in a quake. Peewee gulped. “We can’t bother with earthquakes; we haven’t time. Hurry, Kip, hurry!” She started to run and I followed, gritting my teeth. If Peewee could ignore a quake, so could I-though it’s like ignoring a rattlesnake in bed.

“Peewee … Mother Thing’s people … is their ship in orbit around Pluto?” “What? Oh, no, no! They’re not in a ship.”

“Then why at night? Something about the Heavyside layers here? How far away is their base?” I was wondering how far a man could walk here. We had done almost forty miles on the Moon. Could we do forty blocks here? Or even forty yards? You could insulate your feet, probably. But that wind- “Peewee, they don’t live here, do they?”

“What? Don’t be silly! They have a nice planet of their own. Kip, if you keep asking foolish questions, we’ll be too late. Shut up and listen.”

I shut up. What follows I got in snatches as we ran, and some of it later. When the Mother Thing had been captured, she had lost ship, space clothing, communicator, everything; Wormface had destroyed it all. There had been treachery, capture through violation of truce while parleying. “He grabbed her when they were supposed to be under a King’s ‘X’ ” was Peewee’s indignant description, “and that’s not fair! He had promised.”

Treachery would be as natural in Wormface as venom in a Gila monster; I was surprised that the Mother Thing had risked a palaver with him. It left her a prisoner of ruthless monsters equipped with ships that made ours look like horseless carriages, weapons which started with a “death ray” and ended heaven knows where, plus bases, organization, supplies.

She had only her brain and her tiny soft hands.

Before she could use the rare combination of circumstances necessary to have any chance at all she had to replace her communicator (I think of it as her “radio” but it was more than that) and she had to have weapons. The only way she could get them was to build them.

She had nothing, not a bobby pin-only that triangular ornament with spirals engraved on it. To build anything she had to gain access to a series of rooms which I would describe as electronics labs-not that they looked like the bench where I jiggered with electronics, but electron-pushing has its built-in logic. If electrons are to do what you want them to, components have to look pretty much a certain way, whether built by humans, wormfaces, or the Mother Thing. Awave guide gets its shape from the laws of nature, an inductance has its necessary geometry, no matter who the technician is.

So it looked like an electronics lab-a very good one. It had gear I did not recognize, but which I felt I could understand if I had time. I got only a glimpse.

The Mother Thing spent many, many hours there. She would not have been permitted there, even though she was a prisoner-at-large with freedom in most ways and anything she wanted, including private quarters with Peewee. I think that Wormface was afraid of her, even though she was a prisoner-he did not want to offend her unnecessarily.

She got the run of their shops by baiting their cupidity. Her people had many things that wormfaces had not-gadgets, inventions, conveniences. She began by inquiring why they did a thing this way rather than another way which was so much more efficient? Atradition? Or religious reasons?

When asked what she meant she looked helpless and protested that she couldn’t explain-which was a shame because it was simple and so easy to build, too.

Under close chaperonage she built something. The gadget worked. Then something else. Presently she was in the labs daily, making things for her captors, things that delighted them. She always delivered; the privilege depended on it.

But each gadget involved parts she needed herself.

“She sneaked bits and pieces into her pouch,” Peewee told me. “They never knew exactly what she was doing. She would use five of a thing and the sixth would go into her pouch.” “Her pouch?”

“Of course. That’s where she hid the ‘brain’ the time she and I swiped the ship. Didn’t you know?” “I didn’t know she had a pouch.”

“Well, neither did they. They watched to see she didn’t carry anything out of the shop-and she never did. Not where it showed.”

“Uh, Peewee, is the Mother Thing a marsupial?”

“Huh? Like possums? You don’t have to be a marsupial to have a pouch. Look at squirrels, they have pouches in their cheeks.” “Mmm, yes.”

“She sneaked a bit now and a bit then, and I swiped things, too. During rest time she worked on them in our room.”

The Mother Thing had not slept all the time we had been on Pluto. She worked long hours publicly, making things for wormfaces-a stereo-telephone no bigger than a pack of cigarettes, a tiny beetle-like arrangement that crawled all over anything it was placed on and integrated the volume, many other things. But during hours set apart for rest she worked for herself,   usually in darkness, those tiny fingers busy as a blind watch-maker’s.

She made two bombs and a long-distance communicator-and-beacon.

I didn’t get all this tossed over Peewee’s shoulder while we raced through the base; she simply told me that the Mother Thing had managed to build a radio-beacon and had been responsible for the explosion I had felt. And that we must hurry, hurry, hurry!

“Peewee,” I said, panting. “What’s the rush? If the Mother Thing is outside, I want to bring her in-her body, I mean. But you act as if we had a deadline.” “We do!”

The communicator-beacon had to be placed outside at a particular local time (the Plutonian day is about a week-the astronomers were right again) so that the planet itself would not blanket the beam. But the Mother Thing had no space suit. They had discussed having Peewee suit up, go outside, and set the beacon-it had been so designed that Peewee need only trigger it. But that depended on locating Peewee’s space suit, then breaking in and getting it after the wormfaces were disposed of.

They had never located it. The Mother Thing had said serenely, singing confident notes that I could almost hear ringing in my head: (“Never mind, dear. I can go out and set it myself.”) “Mother Thing! You can’t!” Peewee had protested. “It’s cold out there.”

(“I shan’t be long.”)

“You won’t be able to breathe.”

(“It won’t be necessary, for so short a time.”)

That settled it. In her own way, the Mother Thing was as hard to argue with as Wormface.

The bombs were built, the beacon was built, a time approached when all factors would match-no ship expected, few wormfaces, Pluto faced the right way, feeding time for the staff-and they still did not know where Peewee’s suit was-if it had not been destroyed. The Mother Thing resolved to go ahead.

“But she told me, just a few hours ago when she let me know that today was the day, that if she did not come back in ten minutes or so, that she hoped I could find my suit and trigger the beacon-if she hadn’t been able to.” Peewee started to cry. “That was the f- f- first time she admitted that she wasn’t sure she could do it!”

“Peewee! Stop it! Then what?”

“I waited for the explosions-they came, right together-and I started to search, places I hadn’t been allowed to go. But I couldn’t find my suit!

Then I found you and-oh, Kip, she’s been out there almost an hour!” She looked at her watch. “There’s only about twenty minutes left. If the beacon isn’t triggered by then, she’s had all her trouble and died for n- n- nothing! She wouldn’t like that.” “Where’s my suit!”

We found no more wormfaces-apparently there was only one on duty while the others fed. Peewee showed me a door, air-lock type, behind which was the feeding chamber-the bomb may have cracked that section for gas-tight doors had closed themselves when the owners were blown to bits. We hurried past.

Logical as usual, Peewee ended our search at my space suit. It was one of more than a dozen human-type suits-I wondered how much soup those ghouls ate. Well, they wouldn’t eat again! I wasted no time; I simply shouted, “Hi, Oscar!” and started to suit up.

(“Where you been, chum?”)

Oscar seemed in perfect shape. Fats’ suit was next to mine and Tim’s next to it; I glanced at them as I stretched Oscar out, wondering whether they had equipment I could use. Peewee was looking at Tim’s suit. “Maybe I can wear this.”

It was much smaller than Oscar, which made it only nine sizes too big for Peewee. “Don’t be silly! It’d fit you like socks on a rooster. Help me. Take off that rope, coil it and clip it to my belt.”

“You won’t need it. The Mother Thing planned to take the beacon out the walkway about a hundred yards and sit it down. If she didn’t manage it, that’s all you do. Then twist the stud on top.”

“Don’t argue! How much time?” “Yes, Kip. Eighteen minutes.”

“Those winds are strong,” I added. “I may need the line.” The Mother Thing didn’t weigh much. If she had been swept off, I might need a rope to recover her body. “Hand me that hammer off Fats’ suit.”

“Right away!”

I stood up. It felt good to have Oscar around me. Then I remembered how cold my feet got, walking in from the ship. “I wish I had asbestos boots.”

Peewee looked startled. “Wait right here!” She was gone before I could stop her. I went on sealing up while I worried-she hadn’t even stopped to pick up the projector weapon. Shortly I said, “Tight, Oscar?”

(“Tight, boy!”)

Chin valve okay, blood-color okay, radio-I wouldn’t need it-water- The tank was dry. No matter, I wouldn’t have time to grow thirsty. I worked the chin valve, making the pressure low because I knew that pressure outdoors was quite low.

Peewee returned with what looked like ballet slippers for a baby elephant. She leaned close to my face plate and shouted, “They wear these. Can you get them on?” It seemed unlikely, but I forced them over my feet like badly fitting socks. I stood up and found that they improved traction; they were clumsy but not hard to walk in.

Aminute later we were standing at the exit of the big room I had first seen. Its air-lock doors were closed now as a result of the Mother Thing’s other bomb, which she had placed to blow out the gate-valve panels in the tunnel beyond. The bomb in the feeding chamber had been planted by Peewee who had then ducked back to their room. I don’t know whether the Mother Thing timed the two bombs to go off together, or triggered them by remote-control-nor did it matter; they had made a shambles of Wormface’s fancy base.

Peewee knew how to waste air through the air lock. When the inner door opened I shouted, “Time?” “Fourteen minutes.” She held up her watch.

“Remember what I said, just stay here. If anything moves, blue-light it first and ask questions afterwards.” “I remember.”

I stepped in and closed the inner door, found the valve in the outer door, waited for pressure to equalize.

The two or three minutes it took that big lock to bleed off I spent in glum thought. I didn’t like leaving Peewee alone. I thought all wormfaces were dead, but I wasn’t sure. We had searched hastily; one could have zigged when we zagged-they were so fast.

Besides that, Peewee had said, “I remember,” when she should have said, “Okay, Kip, I will.” Aslip of the tongue? That flea-hopping mind made “slips” only when it wanted to. There is a world of difference between “Roger” and “Wilco.”

Besides I was doing this for foolish motives. Mostly I was going out to recover the Mother Thing’s body-folly, because after I brought her in, she would spoil. It would be kinder to leave her in natural deep-freeze.

But I couldn’t bear that-it was cold out there and I couldn’t leave her out in the cold. She had been so little and warm … so alive. I had to bring her in where she could get warm. You’re in bad shape when your emotions force you into acts which you know are foolish.

Worse still, I was doing this in a reckless rush because the Mother Thing had wanted that beacon set before a certain second, now only twelve minutes away, maybe ten. Well, I’d do it, but what sense was it? Say her home star is close by-oh, say it’s Proxima Centauri and the wormfaces came from somewhere farther. Even if her beacon works-it still takes over four years for her S.O.S. to reach her friends!

This might have been okay for the Mother Thing. I had an impression that she lived a very long time; waiting a few years for rescue might not bother her. But Peewee and I were not creatures of her sort. We’d be dead before that speed-of-light message crawled to Proxima Centauri. I was glad that I had seen Peewee again, but I knew what was in store for us.    Death, in days, weeks, or months at most, from running out of air, or water, or food-or a wormface ship might land before we died-which meant one unholy sabbat of a fight in which, if we were lucky, we would die quickly.

No matter how you figured, planting that beacon was merely “carrying out the deceased’s last wishes”-words you hear at funerals. Sentimental folly. The outer door started to open. Ave, Mother Thing! Nos morituri.

It was cold out there, biting cold, even though I was not yet in the wind. The glow panels were still working and I could see that the tunnel was a mess; the two dozen fractional-pressure stops had ruptured like eardrums. I wondered what sort of bomb could be haywired from stolen parts, kept small enough to conceal two in a body pouch along with some sort of radio rig, and nevertheless have force enough to blow out those panels. The blast had rattled my teeth, several hundred feet away in solid rock.

The first dozen panels were blown inwards. Had she set it off in the middle of the tunnel? Ablast that big would fling her away like a feather! She must have planted it there, then come inside and triggered it-then gone back through the lock just as I had. That was the only way I could see it.

It got colder every step. My feet weren’t too cold yet, those clumsy mukluks were okay; the wormfaces understood insulation. “Oscar, you got the fires burning?” (“Roaring, chum. It’s a cold night.”)

“You’re telling me!”

Just beyond the outermost burst panel, I found her.

She had sunk forward, as if too tired to go on. Her arms stretched in front of her and, on the floor of the tunnel not quite touched by her tiny fingers, was a small round box about the size ladies keep powder in on dressing tables.

Her face was composed and her eyes were open except that nictitating membranes were drawn across as they had been when I had first seen her in the pasture back of our house, a few days or weeks or a thousand years ago. But she had been hurt then and looked it; now I half expected her to draw back those inner lids and sing a welcome.

I touched her.

She was hard as ice and much colder.

I blinked back tears and wasted not a moment. She wanted that little box placed a hundred yards out on the causeway and the bump on top twisted-and she wanted it done in the next six or seven minutes. I scooped it up. “Righto, Mother Thing! On my way!”

(“Get cracking, chum!”) (“Thank you, dear Kip… .”)

I don’t believe in ghosts. I had heard her sing thank-you so many times that the notes echoed in my head.

Afew feet away at the mouth of the tunnel, I stopped. The wind hit me and was so cold that the deathly chill in the tunnel seemed summery. I closed my eyes and counted thirty seconds   to give time to adjust to starlight while I fumbled on the windward side of the tunnel at a slanting strut that anchored the causeway to the mountain, tied my safety line by passing it around the strut and snapping it back on itself. I had known that it was night outside and I expected the causeway to stand out as a black ribbon against the white “snow” glittering under a skyful  of stars. I thought I would be safer on that windswept way if I could see its edges-which I couldn’t by headlamp unless I kept swinging my shoulders back and forth-clumsy and likely to throw me off balance or slow me down.

I had figured this carefully; I didn’t regard this as a stroll in the garden -not at night, not on Pluto! So I counted thirty seconds and tied my line while waiting for eyes to adjust to starlight. I opened them.

And I couldn’t see a darned thing!

Not a star. Not even the difference between sky and ground. My back was to the tunnel and the helmet shaded my face like a sunbonnet; I should have been able to see the walkway. Nothing.

I turned the helmet and saw something that accounted both for black sky and the quake we had felt-an active volcano. It may have been five miles away or fifty, but I could not doubt what it was-a jagged, angry red scar low in the sky.

But I didn’t stop to stare. I switched on the headlamp, splashed it on the righthand windward edge, and started a clumsy trot, keeping close to that side, so that if I stumbled I would have the entire road to recover in before the wind could sweep me off. That wind scared me. I kept the line coiled in my left hand and paid it out as I went, keeping it fairly taut. The coil felt stiff in my fingers.

The wind not only frightened me, it hurt. It was a cold so intense that it felt like flame. It burned and blasted, then numbed. My right side, getting the brunt of it, began to go and then my left side hurt more than the right.

I could no longer feel the line. I stopped, leaned forward and got the coil in the light from the headlamp-that’s another thing that needs fixing! the headlamp should swivel.

The coil was half gone, I had come a good fifty yards. I was depending on the rope to tell me; it was a hundred-meter climbing line, so when I neared its end I would be as far out as the Mother Thing had wanted. Hurry, Kip!

(“Get cracking, boy! It’s cold out here.”) I stopped again. Did I have the box?

I couldn’t feel it. But the headlamp showed my right hand clutched around it. Stay there, fingers! I hurried on, counting steps. One! Two! Three! Four! …

When I reached forty I stopped and glanced over the edge, saw that I was at the highest part where the road crossed the brook and remembered that it was about midway. That brook- methane, was it?-was frozen solid, and I knew that the night was cold.

There were a few loops of line on my left arm-close enough. I dropped the line, moved cautiously to the middle of the way, eased to my knees and left hand, and started to put the box down.

My fingers wouldn’t unbend.

I forced them with my left hand, got the box out of my fist. That diabolical wind caught it and I barely saved it from rolling away. With both hands I set it carefully upright. (“Work your fingers, bud. Pound your hands together!”)

I did so. I could tighten the muscles of my forearms, though it was tearing agony to flex fingers. Clumsily steadying the box with my left hand, I groped for the little knob on top.   I couldn’t feel it but it turned easily once I managed to close my fingers on it; I could see it turn.

It seemed to come to life, to purr. Perhaps I heard vibration, through gloves and up my suit; I certainly couldn’t have felt it, not the shape my fingers were in. I hastily let go, got awkwardly to my feet and backed up, so that I could splash the headlamp on it without leaning over.

I was through, the Mother Thing’s job was done, and (I hoped) before deadline. If I had had as much sense as the ordinary doorknob, I would have turned and hurried into the tunnel faster than I had come out. But I was fascinated by what it was doing.

It seemed to shake itself and three spidery little legs grew out the bottom. It raised up until it was standing on its own little tripod, about a foot high. It shook itself again and I thought the wind would blow it over. But the spidery legs splayed out, seemed to bite into the road surface and it was rock firm.

Something lifted and unfolded out the top.

It opened like a flower, until it was about eight inches across. Afinger lifted (an antenna?), swung as if hunting, steadied and pointed at the sky.

Then the beacon switched on. I’m sure that is what happened although all I saw was a flash of light-parasitic it must have been, for light alone would not have served even without that volcanic overcast. It was probably some harmless side effect of switching on an enormous pulse of power, something the Mother Thing hadn’t had time, or perhaps equipment or materials, to eliminate or shield. It was about as bright as a peanut photoflash.

But I was looking at it. Polarizers can’t work that fast. It blinded me.

I thought my headlamp had gone out, then I realized that I simply couldn’t see through a big greenish-purple disc of dazzle. (“Take it easy, boy. It’s just an after-image. Wait and it’ll go away.”)

“I can’t wait! I’m freezing to death!”

(“Hook the line with your forearm, where it’s clipped to your belt. Pull on it.”)

I did as Oscar told me, found the line, turned around, started to wind it on both forearms. It shattered.

It did not break as you expect rope to break; it shattered like glass. I suppose that is what it was by then-glass, I mean. Nylon and glass are super-cooled liquids. Now I know what “super-cooled” means.

But all I knew then was that my last link with life had gone. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear, I was all alone on a bare platform, billions of miles from home, and a wind out of the depths of a frozen hell was bleeding the last life out of a body I could barely feel-and where I could feel, it hurt like fire.

“Oscar!”

(“I’m here, bud. You can make it. Now-can you see anything?”) “No!”

(“Look for the mouth of the tunnel. It’s got light in it. Switch off your headlamp. Sure, you can-it’s just a toggle switch. Drag your hand back across the right side of our helmet.”)   I did.

(“See anything?”) “Not yet.”

(“Move your head. Try to catch it in the corner of your eye-the dazzle stays in front, you know. Well?”) “I caught something that time!”

(“Reddish, wasn’t it? Jagged, too. The volcano. Now we know which way we’re facing. Turn slowly and catch the mouth of the tunnel as it goes by.”) Slowly was the only way I could turn. “There it is!”

(“Okay, you’re headed home. Get down on your hands and knees and crab slowly to your left. Don’t turn-because you want to hang onto that edge and crawl. Crawl toward the tunnel.”)

I got down. I couldn’t feel the surface with my hands but I felt pressure on my limbs, as if all four were artificial. I found the edge when my left hand slipped over it and I almost fell off. But I recovered. “Am I headed right?”

(“Sure you are. You haven’t turned. You’ve just moved sideways. Can you lift your head to see the tunnel?”) “Uh, not without standing up.”

(“Don’t do that! Try the headlamp again. Maybe your eyes are okay now.”)

I dragged my hand forward against the right side of the helmet. I must have hit the switch, for suddenly I saw a circle of light, blurred and cloudy in the middle. The edge of the walkway sliced it on the left.

(“Good boy! No, don’t get up; you’re weak and dizzy and likely to fall. Start crawling. Count ‘em. Three hundred ought to do it.”)  I started crawling, counting.

“It’s a long way, Oscar. You think we can make it?”

(“Of course we can! You think I want to be left out here?”) “I’d be with you.”

(“Knock off the chatter. You’ll make me lose count. Thirty-six … thirty-seven … thirty-eight-“) We crawled.

(“That’s a hundred. Now we double it. Hundred one … hundred two … hundred three-“) “I’m feeling better, Oscar. I think it’s getting warmer.”

(“WHAT!”)

“I said I’m feeling a little warmer.”

(“You’re not warmer, you blistering idiot! That’s freeze-to-death you’re feeling! Crawl faster! Work your chin valve. Get more air. Le’ me hear that chin valve click!”)   I was too tired to argue; I chinned the valve three or four times, felt a blast blistering my face.

(“I’m stepping up the stroke. Warmer indeed! Hund’d nine … hund’d ten … hun’leven … hun’twelve-pick it up!”)

At two hundred I said I would just have to rest.

(“No, you don’t!”)

“But I’ve got to. Just a little while.”

(“Like that, uh? You know what happens. What’s Peewee goin’ to do? She’s in there, waiting. She’s already scared because you’re late. What’s she goin’ to do? Answer me!”) “Uh … she’s going to try to wear Tim’s suit.”

(“Right! In case of duplicate answers the prize goes to the one postmarked first. How far will she get? You tell me.”) “Uh … to the mouth of the tunnel, I guess. Then the wind will get her.”

(“My opinion exactly. Then we’ll have the whole family together. You, me, the Mother Thing, Peewee. Cozy. Afamily of stiffs.”) “But-“

(“So start slugging, brother. Slug … slug … slug … slug … tw’und’d five … two’und’d six … tw’und’d sev’n’-“)

I don’t remember falling off. I don’t even know what the “snow” felt like. I just remember being glad that the dreadful counting was over and I could rest. But Oscar wouldn’t let me. (“Kip! Kip! Get up! Climb back on the straight and narrow.”)

“Go ‘way.”

(“I can’t go away. I wish I could. Right in front of you. Grab the edge and scramble up. It’s only a little farther now.”)

I managed to raise my head, saw the edge of the walkway in the light of my headlamp about two feet above my head. I sank back. “It’s too high,” I said listlessly. “Oscar, I think we’ve had it.”

He snorted. (“So? Who was it, just the other day, cussed out a little bitty girl who was too tired to get up? ‘Commander Comet,’ wasn’t it? Did I get the name right? The ‘Scourge of the Spaceways’ … the no- good lazy sky tramp. ‘Have Space Suit-Will Travel.’ Before you go to sleep, Commander, can I have your autograph! I’ve never met a real live space pirate before … one that goes around hijacking ships and kidnapping little girls.”)

“That’s not fair!”

(“Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted. But just one thing before I leave: she’s got more guts in her little finger than you have in your whole body-you lying, fat, lazy swine! Good-bye. Don’t wait up.”)

“Oscar! Don’t leave me!” (“Eh? You want help?”) “Yes!”

(“Well, if it’s too high to reach, grab your hammer and hook it over the edge. Pull yourself up.”)

I blinked. Maybe it would work. I reached down, decided I had the hammer even though I couldn’t feel it, got it loose. Using both hands I hooked it over the edge above me. I pulled. That silly hammer broke just like the line. Tool steel-and it went to pieces as if it had been cast out of type slugs.

That made me mad. I heaved myself to a sitting position, got both elbows on the edge, and struggled and groaned and burst into fiery sweat -and rolled over onto the road surface. (“That’s my boy! Never mind counting, just crawl toward the light!”)

The tunnel wavered in front of me. I couldn’t get my breath, so I kicked the chin valve. Nothing happened.

“Oscar! The chin valve is stuck!” I tried again.

Oscar was very slow in answering. (“No, pal, the valve isn’t stuck. Your air hoses have frozen up. I guess that last batch wasn’t as dry as it could have been.”) “I haven’t any air!”

Again he was slow. But he answered firmly, (“Yes, you have. You’ve got a whole suit full. Plenty for the few feet left.”) “I’ll never make it.”

(“Afew feet, only. There’s the Mother Thing, right ahead of you. Keep moving.”)

I raised my head and, sure enough, there she was. I kept crawling, while she got bigger and bigger. Finally I said, “Oscar … this is as far as I go.” (“I’m afraid it is. I’ve let you down … but thanks for not leaving me outside there.”)

“You didn’t let me down … you were swell. I just didn’t quite make it.”

(“I guess we both didn’t quite make it … but we sure let ‘em know that we tried! So long, partner.”)

“So long. ‘Hasta la vista, amigo!” I managed to crawl two short steps and collapsed with my head near the Mother Thing’s head. She was smiling. (“Hello, Kip my son.”)

“I didn’t … quite make it, Mother Thing. I’m sorry.” (“Oh, but you did make it!”)

“Huh?”

(“Between us, we’ve both made it.”)

I thought about that for a long time. “And Oscar.” (“And Oscar, of course.”)

“And Peewee.”

(“And always Peewee. We’ve all made it. Now we can rest, dear.”) “G’night … Mother Thing.”

It was a darn short rest. I was just closing my eyes, feeling warm and happy that the Mother Thing thought that I had done all right-when Peewee started shaking my shoulder. She touched helmets. “Kip! Kip! Get up. Please get up.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I can’t carry you! I tried, but I can’t do it. You’re just too big!”

I considered it. Of course she couldn’t carry me-where did she get the silly notion that she could? I was twice her size. I’d carry her … just as soon as I caught my breath.

“Kip! Please get up.” She was crying now, blubbering.

“Why, sure, honey,” I said gently, “if that’s what you want.” I tried and had a clumsy bad time of it. She almost picked me up, she helped a lot. Once up, she steadied me. “Turn around. Walk.”

She almost did carry me. She got her shoulders under my right arm and kept pushing. Every time we came to one of those blown-out panels she either helped me step over, or simply pushed me through and helped me up again.

At last we were in the lock and she was bleeding air from inside to fill it. She had to let go of me and I sank down. She turned when the inner door opened, started to say something-then got my helmet off in a hurry.

I took a deep breath and got very dizzy and the lights dimmed. She was looking at me. “You all right now?”

“Me? Sure! Why shouldn’t I be?” “Let me help you inside.”

I couldn’t see why, but she did help and I needed it. She sat me on the floor near the door with my back to the wall-I didn’t want to lie down. “Kip, I was so scared!” “Why?” I couldn’t see what she was worried about. Hadn’t the Mother Thing said that we had all done all right?

“Well, I was. I shouldn’t have let you go out.” “But the beacon had to be set.”

“Oh, but- You set it?”

“Of course. The Mother Thing was pleased.”

“I’m sure she would have been,” she said gravely. “She was.”

“Can I do anything? Can I help you out of your suit?” “Uh … no, not yet. Could you find me a drink of water?” “Right away!”

She came back and held it for me-I wasn’t as thirsty as I had thought; it made me a bit ill. She watched me for some time, then said, “Do you mind if I’m gone a little while? Will you be all right?”

“Me? Certainly.” I didn’t feel well, I was beginning to hurt, but there wasn’t anything she could do.

“I won’t be long.” She began clamping her helmet and I noticed with detached interest that she was wearing her own suit-somehow I had had the impression that she had been wearing Tim’s.

I saw her head for the lock and realized where she was going and why. I wanted to tell her that the Mother Thing would rather not be inside here, where she might … where she might-I didn’t want to say “spoil” even to myself.

But Peewee was gone.

I don’t think she was away more than five minutes. I had closed my eyes and I am not sure. I noticed the inner door open. Through it stepped Peewee, carrying the Mother Thing in her arms like a long piece of firewood. She didn’t bend at all.

Peewee put the Mother Thing on the floor in the same position I had last seen her, then undamped her helmet and bawled.  I couldn’t get up. My legs hurt too much. And my arms. “Peewee … please, honey. It doesn’t do any good.”

She raised her head. “I’m all through. I won’t cry any more.” And she didn’t.

We sat there a long time. Peewee again offered to help me out of my suit, but when we tried it, I hurt so terribly, especially my hands and my feet, that I had to ask her to stop. She looked worried. “Kip … I’m afraid you froze them.”

“Maybe. But there’s nothing to do about it now.” I winced and changed the subject. “Where did you find your suit?” “Oh!” She looked indignant, then almost gay. “You’d never guess. Inside Jock’s suit.”

“No, I guess I wouldn’t. The Purloined Letter.’ “ “The what?”

“Nothing. I hadn’t realized that old Wormface had a sense of humor.”

Shortly after that we had another quake, a bad one. Chandeliers would have jounced if the place had had any and the floor heaved. Peewee squealed. “Oh! That was almost as bad as the last one.”

“Alot worse, I’d say. That first little one wasn’t anything.” “No, I mean the one while you were outside.”

“Was there one then?” “Didn’t you feel it?”

“No.” I tried to remember. “Maybe that was when I fell off in the snow.” “You fell off? Kip!”

“It was all right. Oscar helped me.”

There was another ground shock. I wouldn’t have minded, only it shook me up and made me hurt worse. I finally came out of the fog enough to realize that I didn’t have to hurt. Let’s see, medicine pills were on the right and the codeine dispenser was farthest back- “Peewee? Could I trouble you for some water again?”

“Of course!”

“I’m going to take codeine. It may make me sleep. Do you mind?” “You ought to sleep if you can. You need it.”

“I suppose so. What time is it?”

She told me and I couldn’t believe it. “You mean it’s been more than twelve hours?” “Huh? Since what?”

“Since this started.”

“I don’t understand, Kip.” She stared at her watch. “It has been exactly an hour and a half since I found you-not quite two hours since the Mother Thing set off the bombs.”   I couldn’t believe that, either. But Peewee insisted that she was right.

The codeine made me feel much better and I was beginning to be drowsy, when Peewee said, “Kip, do you smell anything?”  I sniffed. “Something like kitchen matches?”

“That’s what I mean. I think the pressure is dropping, too. Kip … I think I had better close your helmet-if you’re going to sleep.” “All right. You close yours, too?”

“Yes. Uh, I don’t think this place is tight any longer.”

“You may be right.” Between explosions and quakes, I didn’t see how it could be. But, while I knew what that meant, I was too weary and sick- and getting too dreamy from the drug-to worry. Now, or a month from now-what did it matter? The Mother Thing had said everything was okay.

Peewee clamped us in, we checked radios, and she sat down facing me and the Mother Thing. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Then I heard: “Peewee to Junebug-“ “I read you, Peewee.”

“Kip? It’s been fun, mostly. Hasn’t it?”

“Huh?” I glanced up, saw that the dial said I had about four hours of air left. I had had to reduce pressure twice, since we closed up, to match falling pressure in the room. “Yes, Peewee, it’s been swell. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

She sighed. “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t blaming me. Now go to sleep.”

I did almost go to sleep, when I saw Peewee jump up and my phones came to life. “Kip! Something’s coming in the door!”

I came wide awake, realized what it meant. Why couldn’t they have let us be? Afew hours, anyhow? “Peewee. Don’t panic. Move to the far side of the door. You’ve got your blue-light gadget?”

“Yes.”

“Pick them off as they come in.”

“You’ve got to move, Kip. You’re right where they will come!”

“I can’t get up.” I hadn’t been able to move, not even my arms, for quite a while. “Use low power, then if you brush me, it won’t matter. Do what I say! Fast!” “Yes, Kip.” She got where she could snipe at them sideways, raised her projector and waited.

The inner door opened, a figure came in. I saw Peewee start to nail it- and I called into my radio: “Don’t shoot!” But she was dropping the projector and running forward even as I shouted.

They were “mother thing” people.

It took six of them to carry me, only two to carry the Mother Thing. They sang to me soothingly all the time they were rigging a litter. I swallowed another codeine tablet before they lifted me, as even with their gentleness any movement hurt. It didn’t take long to get me into their ship, for they had landed almost at the tunnel mouth, no doubt crushing the walkway-I hoped so.

Once I was safely inside Peewee opened my helmet and unzipped the front of my suit. “Kip! Aren’t they wonderful?” “Yes.” I was getting dizzier from the drug but was feeling better. “When do we raise ship?”

“We’ve already started.”

“They’re taking us home?” I’d have to tell Mr. Charton what a big help the codeine was. “Huh? Oh, my, no! We’re headed for Vega.”

I fainted.

Chapter 9

I had been dreaming that I was home; this awoke me with a jerk. “Mother Thing!” (“Good morning, my son. I am happy to see that you are feeling better.”)

“Oh, I feel fine. I’ve had a good night’s rest-” I stared, then blurted: “-you’re dead!” I couldn’t stop it.

Her answer sounded warmly, gently humorous, the way you correct a child who has made a natural mistake. (“No, dear, I was merely frozen. I am not as frail as you seem to think me.”)   I blinked and looked again. “Then it wasn’t a dream?”

(“No, it was not a dream.”)

“I thought I was home and-” I tried to sit up, managed only to raise my head. “I am home!” My room! Clothes closet on the left-hall door behind the Mother Thing-my desk on the right, piled with books and with a Centerville High pennant over it-window beyond it, with the old elm almost filling it-sun-speckled leaves stirring in a breeze.

My slipstick was where I had left it.

Things started to wobble, then I figured it out. I had dreamed only the silly part at the end. Vega-I had been groggy with codeine. “You brought me home.” (“We brought you home … to your other home. My home.”)

The bed started to sway. I clutched at it but my arms didn’t move. The Mother Thing was still singing. (“You needed your own nest. So we prepared it.”) “Mother Thing, I’m confused.”

(“We know that a bird grows well faster in its own nest. So we built yours.”) “Bird” and “nest” weren’t what she sang, but an Unabridged won’t give anything closer.

I took a deep breath to steady down. I understood her-that’s what she was best at, making you understand. This wasn’t my room and I wasn’t home; it simply looked like it. But I was still terribly confused.

I looked around and wondered how I could have been mistaken.

The light slanted in the window from a wrong direction. The ceiling didn’t have the patch in it from the time I built a hide-out in the attic and knocked plaster down by hammering. It wasn’t the right shade, either.

The books were too neat and clean; they had that candy-box look. I couldn’t recognize the bindings. The over-all effect was mighty close, but details were not right. (“I like this room,”) the Mother Thing was singing. (“It looks like you, Kip.”)

“Mother Thing,” I said weakly, “how did you do it?” (“We asked you. And Peewee helped.”)

I thought, “But Peewee has never seen my room either,” then decided that Peewee had seen enough American homes to be a consulting expert. “Peewee is here?” (“She’ll be in shortly.”)

With Peewee and the Mother Thing around things couldn’t be too bad. Except- “Mother Thing, I can’t move my arms and legs.”

She put a tiny, warm hand on my forehead and leaned over me until her enormous, lemur-like eyes blanked out everything else. (“You have been damaged. Now you are growing well. Do not worry.”)

When the Mother Thing tells you not to worry, you don’t. I didn’t want to do handstands anyhow; I was satisfied to look into her eyes. You could sink into them, you could have dived in and swum around. “All right, Mother Thing.” I remembered something else. “Say … you were frozen? Weren’t you?”

(“Yes.”)

“But- Look, when water freezes it ruptures living cells. Or so they say.” She answered primly, (“My body would never permit that!”).

“Well-” I thought about it. “Just don’t dunk me in liquid air! I’m not built for it.”

Again her song held roguish, indulgent humor. (“We shall endeavor not to hurt you.”) She straightened up and grew a little, swaying like a willow. (“I sense Peewee.”)

There was a knock-another discrepancy; it didn’t sound like a knock on a light-weight interior door-and Peewee called out, “May I come in?” She didn’t wait (I wondered if she ever did) but came on in. The bit I could see past her looked like our upper hall; they’d done a thorough job.

(“Come in, dear.”)

“Sure, Peewee. You are in.” “Don’t be captious.”

“Look who’s talking. Hi, kid!” “Hi yourself.”

The Mother Thing glided away. (“Don’t stay long, Peewee. You are not to tire him.”) “I won’t, Mother Thing.”

(” ‘Bye, dears.”)

I said, “What are the visiting hours in this ward?”

“When she says, of course.” Peewee stood facing me, fists on hips. She was really clean for the first time in our acquaintance-cheeks pink with scrubbing, hair fluffy-maybe she would be pretty, in about ten years. She was dressed as always but her clothes were fresh, all buttons present, and tears invisibly mended.

“Well,” she said, letting out her breath, “I guess you’re going to be worth keeping, after all.” “Me? I’m in the pink. How about yourself?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Alittle frost nip. Nothing. But you were a mess.” “I was?”

“I can’t use adequate language without being what Mama calls ‘unladylike.’ “ “Oh, we wouldn’t want you to be that.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. You don’t do it well.”

“You won’t let me practice on you?”

She started to make a Peewee retort, stopped suddenly, smiled and came close. For a nervous second I thought she was going to kiss me. But she just patted the bedclothes and said solemnly, “You bet you can, Kip. You can be sarcastic, or nasty, or mean, or scold me, or anything, and I won’t let out a peep. Why, I’ll bet you could even talk back to the Mother Thing.”

I couldn’t imagine wanting to. I said, “Take it easy, Peewee. Your halo is showing.” “I’d have one if it weren’t for you. Or flunked my test for it, more likely.”

“So? I seem to remember somebody about your size lugging me indoors almost piggy-back. How about that?” She wriggled. “That wasn’t anything. You set the beacon. That was everything.”

“Uh, each to his own opinion. It was cold out there.” I changed the subject; it was embarrassing us. Mention of the beacon reminded me of something else. “Peewee? Where are we?” “Huh? In the Mother Thing’s home, of course.” She looked around and said, “Oh, I forgot. Kip, this isn’t really your-“

“I know,” I said impatiently. “It’s a fake. Anybody can see that.”

“They can?” She looked crestfallen. “I thought we had done a perfect job.” “It’s an incredibly good job. I don’t see how you did it.”

“Oh, your memory is most detailed. You must have a camera eye.” -and I must have spilled my guts, too! I added to myself. I wondered what else I had said-with Peewee listening. I was afraid to ask; a fellow ought to have privacy.

“But it’s still a fake,” I went on. “I know we’re in the Mother Thing’s home. But where’s that?” “Oh.” She looked round-eyed. “I told you. Maybe you don’t remember -you were sleepy.”

“I remember,” I said slowly, “something. But it didn’t make sense. I thought you said we were going to Vega.”

“Well, I suppose the catalogs will list it as Vega Five. But they call it-” She threw back her head and vocalized; it recalled to me the cockcrow theme in Le Coq d’Or. “-but I couldn’t say that. So I told you Vega, which is close enough.”

I tried again to sit up, failed. “You mean to stand there and tell me we’re on Vega? I mean, a ‘Vegan planet’?” “Well, you haven’t asked me to sit down.”

I ignored the Peeweeism. I looked at “sunlight” pouring through the window. “That light is from Vega?”

“That stuff? That’s artificial sunlight. If they had used real, bright, Vega light, it would look ghastly. Like a bare arc light. Vega is ‘way up the Russell diagram, you know.” “It is?” I didn’t know the spectrum of Vega; I had never expected to need to know it.

“Oh, yes! You be careful, Kip-when you’re up, I mean. In ten seconds you can get more burn than all winter in Key West-and ten minutes would kill you.”

I seemed to have a gift for winding up in difficult climates. What star class was Vega? “A,” maybe? Probably “B.” All I knew was that it was big and bright, bigger than the Sun, and looked pretty set in Lyra.

But where was it? How in the name of Einstein did we get here? “Peewee? How far is Vega? No, I mean, ‘How far is the Sun?’ You wouldn’t happen to know?” “Of course,” she said scornfully. “Twenty-seven light-years.”

Great Galloping Gorillas! “Peewee-get that slide rule. You know how to push one? I don’t seem to have the use of my hands.” She looked uneasy. “Uh, what do you want it for?”

“I want to see what that comes to in miles.” “Oh. I’ll figure it. No need for a slide rule.”

“Aslipstick is faster and more accurate. Look, if you don’t know how to use one, don’t be ashamed-I didn’t, at your age. I’ll show you.”

“Of course I can use one!” she said indignantly. “You think I’m a stupe? But I’ll work it out.” Her lips moved silently. “One point five nine times ten to the fourteenth miles.”

I had done that Proxima Centauri problem recently; I remembered the miles in a light-year and did a rough check in my head-uh, call it six times twenty-five makes a hundred and fifty-and where was the decimal point? “Your answer sounds about right.” 159,000,000,000,000 weary miles! Too many zeroes for comfort.

“Of course I’m right!” she retorted. “I’m always right.” “Goodness me! The handy-dandy pocket encyclopedia.” She blushed. “I can’t help being a genius.”

Which left her wide open and I was about to rub her nose in it-when I saw how unhappy she looked.

I remembered hearing Dad say: “Some people insist that ‘mediocre’ is better than ‘best.’ They delight in clipping wings because they themselves can’t fly. They despise brains because they have none. Pfah!”

“I’m sorry, Peewee,” I said humbly. “I know you can’t. And I can’t help not being one … any more than you can help being little, or I can help being big.”   She relaxed and looked solemn. “I guess I was being a show-off again.” She twisted a button. “Or maybe I assumed that you understand me-like Daddy.” “I feel complimented. I doubt if I do-but from now on I’ll try.” She went on worrying the button. “You’re pretty smart yourself, Kip. You know that, don’t you?”

I grinned. “If I were smart, would I be here? All thumbs and my ears rub together. Look, honey, would you mind if we checked you on the slide rule? I’m really interested.” Twenty-seven light-years-why, you wouldn’t be able to see the Sun, It isn’t any great shakes as a star.

But I had made her uneasy again. “Uh, Kip, that isn’t much of a slide rule.” “What? Why, that’s the best that money can-”

“Kip, please! It’s part of the desk. It’s not a slide rule.”

“Huh?” I looked sheepish. “I forgot. Uh, I suppose that hall out there doesn’t go very far?”

“Just what you can see. Kip, the slide rule would have been real-if we had had time enough. They understand logarithms. Oh, indeed they do!”

That was bothering me-“time enough” I mean. “Peewee, how long did it take us to get here?” Twenty-seven light-years! Even at speed-of-light-well, maybe the Einstein business would make it seem like a quick trip to me-but not to Centerville. Dad could be dead! Dad was older than Mother, old enough to be my grandfather, really. Another twenty-seven years back- Why, that would make him well over a hundred. Even Mother might be dead.

“Time to get here? Why, it didn’t take any.”

“No, no. I know it feels that way. You’re not any older, I’m still laid up by frostbite. But it took at least twenty-seven years. Didn’t it?”

“What are you talking about, Kip?”

“The relativity equations, of course. You’ve heard of them?”

“Oh, those! Certainly. But they don’t apply. It didn’t take time. Oh, fifteen minutes to get out of Pluto’s atmosphere, about the same to cope with the atmosphere here. But otherwise, pht! Zero.”

“At the speed of light you would think so.”

“No, Kip.” She frowned, then her face lighted up. “How long was it from the time you set the beacon till they rescued us?” “Huh?” It hit me. Dad wasn’t dead! Mother wouldn’t even have gray hair. “Maybe an hour.”

“Alittle over. It would have been less if they had had a ship ready … then they might have found you in the tunnel instead of me. No time for the message to reach here. Half an hour frittered away getting a ship ready-the Mother Thing was vexed. I hadn’t known she could be. You see, a ship is supposed to be ready.”

“Any time she wants one?”

“Any and all the time-the Mother Thing is important. Another half-hour in atmosphere maneuvering-and that’s all. Real time. None of those funny contractions.”

I tried to soak it up. They take an hour to go twenty-seven light-years and get bawled out for dallying. Dr. Einstein must be known as “Whirligig Albert” among his cemetery neighbors. “But how?”

“Kip, do you know any geometry? I don’t mean Euclid-I mean geometry.”

“Mmm … I’ve fiddled with open and closed curved spaces-and I’ve read Dr. Bell’s popular books. But you couldn’t say I know any geometry.”

“At least you won’t boggle at the idea that a straight line is not necessarily the shortest distance between two points.” She made motions as if squeezing a grapefruit in both hands. “Because it’s not. Kip-it all touches. You could put it in a bucket. In a thimble if you folded it so that spins matched.”

I had a dizzying picture of a universe compressed into a teacup, nucleons and electrons packed solidly-really solid and not the thin mathematical ghost that even the uranium nucleus is said to be. Something like the “primal atom” that some cosmogonists use to explain the expanding universe. Well, maybe it’s both packed and expanding. Like the “wavicle” paradox. A particle isn’t a wave and a wave can’t be a particle- yet everything is both. If you believe in wavicles, you can believe in anything-and if you don’t, then don’t bother to believe at all. Not even in yourself, because that’s what you are-wavicles. “How many dimensions?” I said weakly.

“How many would you like?”

“Me? Uh, twenty, maybe. Four more for each of the first four, to give some looseness on the corners.”       “Twenty isn’t a starter. I don’t know, Kip; I don’t know geometry, either-I just thought I did. So I’ve pestered them.” “The Mother Thing?”

“Her? Oh, heavens, no! She doesn’t know geometry. Just enough to pilot a ship in and out of the folds.”

“Only that much?” I should have stuck to advanced finger-painting and never let Dad lure me into trying for an education. There isn’t any end- the more you learn, the more you need to learn. “Peewee, you knew what that beacon was for, didn’t you?”

“Me?” She looked innocent. “Well … yes.” “You knew we were going to Vega.”

“Well … if the beacon worked. If it was set in time.” “Now the prize question. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well-” Peewee was going to twist that button off. “I wasn’t sure how much math you knew and-you might have gone all masculine and common-sensical and father-knows-best. Would you have believed me?”

(“I told Orville and I told Wilbur and now I’m telling you-that contraption will never work!”) “Maybe not, Peewee. But next time you’re tempted not to tell me something ‘for my own good,’ will you take a chance that I’m not wedded to my own ignorance? I know I’m not a genius but I’ll try to keep my mind open-and I might be able to help, if I knew what you were up to. Quit twisting that button.”

She let go hastily. “Yes, Kip. I’ll remember.”

“Thanks. Another thing is fretting me. I was pretty sick?” “Huh? You certainly were!”

“All right. They’ve got these, uh, ‘fold ships’ that go anywhere in no time. Why didn’t you ask them to bounce me home and pop me into a hospital?” She hesitated. “How do you feel?”

“Huh? I feel fine. Except that I seem to be under spinal anesthesia, or something.” “Or something,” she agreed. “But you feel as if you are getting well?”

“Shucks, I feel well.”

“You aren’t. But you’re going to be.” She looked at me closely. “Shall I put it bluntly, Kip?” “Go ahead.”

“If they had taken you to Earth to the best hospital we have, you’d be a ‘basket case.’ Understand me? No arms, no legs. As it is, you are getting completely well. No amputations, not even a toe.”

I think the Mother Thing had prepared me. I simply said, “You’re sure?”

“Sure. Sure both. You’re going to be all right.” Suddenly her face screwed up. “Oh, you were a mess! I saw.” “Pretty bad?”

“Awful. I have nightmares.”              “They shouldn’t have let you look.”   “They couldn’t stop me. I was next of kin.”

“Huh? You told them you were my sister or something?” “What? I am your next of kin.”

I was about to say she was cockeyed when I tripped over my tongue. We were the only humans for a hundred and sixty trillion miles. As usual, Peewee was right. “So I had to grant permission,” she went on.

“For what? What did they do to me?”

“Uh, first they popped you into liquid helium. They left you there and the past month they have been using me as a guinea pig. Then, three days ago-three of ours-they thawed you out and got to work. You’ve been getting well ever since.”

“What shape am I in now?”

“Uh … well, you’re growing back. Kip, this isn’t a bed. It just looks like it.” “What is it, then?”

“We don’t have a name for it and the tune is pitched too high for me. But everything from here on down-” She patted the spread. “-on into the room below, does things for you. You’re wired like a hi-fi nut’s basement.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“I’m afraid you can’t. You don’t know, Kip. They had to cut your space suit off.”

I felt more emotion at that than I had at hearing what a mess I had been. “Huh? Where is Oscar? Did they ruin him? My space suit, I mean.” “I know what you mean. Every time you’re delirious you talk to ‘Oscar’ -and you answer back, too. Sometimes I think you’re schizoid, Kip.” “You’ve mixed your terms, runt-that’ud make me a split personality. All right, but you’re a paranoid yourself.”

“Oh, I’ve known that for a long time. But I’m a very well adjusted one. You want to see Oscar? The Mother Thing said that you would want him near when you woke up.” She opened the closet.

“Hey! You said he was all cut up!”

“Oh, they repaired him. Good as new. Alittle better than new.” (“Time, dear! Remember what I said.”)

“Coming, Mother Thing! ‘Bye, Kip. I’ll be back soon, and real often.” “Okay. Leave the closet open so I can see Oscar.”

Peewee did come back, but not “real often.” I wasn’t offended, not much. She had a thousand interesting and “educational” things to poke her ubiquitous nose into, all new and fascinating-she was as busy as a pup chewing slippers. She ran our hosts ragged. But I wasn’t bored. I was getting well, a full-time job and not boring if you are happy-which I was.

I didn’t see the Mother Thing often. I began to realize that she had work of her own to do-even though she came to see me if I asked for her, with never more than an hour’s delay, and never seemed in a hurry to leave.

She wasn’t my doctor, nor my nurse. Instead I had a staff of veterinarians who were alert to supervise every heartbeat. They didn’t come in unless I asked them to (a whisper was as good as a shout) but I soon realized that “my” room was bugged and telemetered like a ship in flight test-and my “bed” was a mass of machinery, gear that bore the relation to our own “mechanical hearts” and “mechanical lungs” and “mechanical kidneys” that a Lockheed ultrasonic courier does to a baby buggy.

I never saw that gear (they never lifted the spread, unless it was while I slept), but I know what they were doing. They were encouraging my body to repair itself-not scar tissue but the way  it had been. Any lobster can do this and starfish do it so well that you can chop them to bits and wind up with a thousand brand-new starfish.

This is a trick any animal should do, since its gene pattern is in every cell. But a few million years ago we lost it. Everybody knows that science is trying to recapture it; you see articles- optimistic ones in Reader’s Digest, discouraged ones in The Scientific Monthly, wildly wrong ones in magazines whose “science editors” seem to have received their training writing horror movies. But we’re working on it. Someday, if anybody dies an accidental death, it will be because he bled to death on the way to the hospital.

Here I was with a perfect chance to find out about it-and I didn’t.

I tried. Although I was unworried by what they were doing (the Mother Thing had told me not to worry and every time she visited me she looked in my eyes and repeated the injunction), nevertheless like Peewee, I like to know.

Pick a savage so far back in the jungle that they don’t even have installment-plan buying. Say he has an I.Q. of 190 and Peewee’s yen to understand. Dump him into Brookhaven Atomic Laboratories. How much will he learn? With all possible help?

He’ll learn which corridors lead to what rooms and he’ll learn that a purple trefoil means: “Danger!”

That’s all. Not because he can’t; remember he’s a supergenius-but he needs twenty years schooling before he can ask the right questions and understand the answers.

I asked questions and always got answers and formed notions. But I’m not going to record them; they are as confused and contradictory as the notions a savage would form about design and operation of atomic equipment. As they say in radio, when noise level reaches a certain value, no information is transmitted. All I got was “noise.”

Some of it was literally “noise.” I’d ask a question and one of the therapists would answer. I would understand part, then as it reached the key point, I would hear nothing but birdsongs. Even with the Mother Thing as an interpreter, the parts I had no background for would turn out to be a canary’s cheerful prattle.

Hold onto your seats; I’m going to explain something I don’t understand: how Peewee and I could talk with the Mother Thing even though her mouth could not shape English and we couldn’t sing the way she did and had not studied her language. The Vegans-(I’ll call them “Vegans” the way we might be called “Solarians”; their real name sounds like a wind chime in  a breeze. The Mother Thing had a real name, too, but I’m not a coloratura soprano. Peewee used it when she wanted to wheedle her -fat lot of good it did her.) The Vegans have a supreme talent to understand, to put themselves in the other person’s shoes. I don’t think it was telepathy, or I wouldn’t have gotten so many wrong numbers. Call it empathy.

But they have it in various degrees, just as all of us drive cars but only a few are fit to be racing drivers. The Mother Thing had it the way Novaes understands a piano. I once read about an actress who could use Italian so effectively to a person who did not understand Italian that she always made herself understood. Her name was “Duce.” No, a “duce” is a dictator. Something like that. She must have had what the Mother Thing had.

The first words I had with the Mother Thing were things like “hello” and “good-bye” and “thank you” and “where are we going?” She could project her meaning with those-shucks, you can talk to a strange dog that much. Later I began to understand her speech as speech. She picked up meanings of English words even faster; she had this great talent, and she and Peewee had talked for days while they were prisoners.

But while this is easy for “you’re welcome” and “I’m hungry” and “let’s hurry,” it gets harder for ideas like “heterodyning” and “amino acid” even when both are familiar with the concept. When one party doesn’t even have the concept, it breaks down. That’s the trouble I had understanding those veterinarians. If we had all spoken English I still would not have understood.

An oscillating circuit sending out a radio signal produces dead silence unless there is another circuit capable of oscillating in the same way to receive it. I wasn’t on the right frequency. Nevertheless I understood them when the talk was not highbrow. They were nice people; they talked and laughed a lot and seemed to like each other. I had trouble telling them apart,

except the Mother Thing. (I learned that the only marked difference to them between Peewee and myself was that I was ill and she wasn’t.) They had no trouble telling each other apart;

their conversations were interlarded with musical names, until you felt that you were caught in Peter and the Wolf or a Wagnerian opera. They even had a leit-motif for me. Their talk was

cheerful and gay, like the sounds of a bright summer dawn.

The next time I meet a canary I’ll know what he is saying even if he doesn’t.

I picked up some of this from Peewee-a hospital bed is not a good place from which to study a planet. Vega Five has Earth-surface gravity, near enough, with an oxygen, carbon dioxide, and water life cycle. The planet would not suit humans, not only because the noonday “sun” would strike you dead with its jolt of ultraviolet but also the air has poisonous amounts of ozone-a trace of ozone is stimulating but a trifle more-well, you might as well sniff prussic acid. There was something else, too, nitrous oxide I think, which was ungood for humans if breathed too long. My quarters were air-conditioned; the Vegans could breathe what I used but they considered it tasteless.

I learned a bit as a by-product of something else; the Mother Thing asked me to dictate how I got mixed up in these things. When I finished, she asked me to dictate everything I knew about Earth, its history, and how we work and live together. This is a tall order-I’m not still dictating because I found out I don’t know much. Take ancient Babylonia-how is it related to early Egyptian civilizations? I had only vague notions.

Maybe Peewee did better, since she remembers everything she has heard or read or seen the way Dad does. But they probably didn’t get her to hold still long, whereas I had to. The Mother Thing wanted this for the reasons we study Australian aborigines and also as a record of our language. There was another reason, too.

The job wasn’t easy but there was a Vegan to help me whenever I felt like it, willing to stop if I tired. Call him Professor Josephus Egghead; “Professor” is close enough and his name can’t be spelled. I called him Joe and he called me the leitmotif that meant “Clifford Russell, the monster with the frostbite.” Joe had almost as much gift for understanding as the Mother Thing. But how do you put over ideas like “tariffs” and “kings” to a person whose people have never had either? The English words were just noise.

But Joe knew histories of many peoples and planets and could call up scenes, in moving stereo and color, until we agreed on what I meant. We jogged along, with me dictating to a silvery ball floating near my mouth and with Joe curled up like a cat on a platform raised to my level, while he dictated to another microphone, making running notes on what I said. His mike had a gimmick that made it a hush-phone; I did not hear him unless he spoke to me.

Then we would stumble. Joe would stop and throw me a sample scene, his best guess of what I meant. The pictures appeared in the air, positioned for my comfort-if I turned my head, the picture moved to accommodate me. The pix were color-stereo-television with perfect life and sharpness-well, give us another twenty years and we’ll have them as realistic. It was a good trick to have the projector concealed and to force images to appear as if they were hanging in air, but those are just gimmicks of stereo optics; we can do them anytime we really want to-after all, you can pack a lifelike view of the Grand Canyon into a viewer you hold in your hand.

The thing that did impress me was the organization behind it. I asked Joe about it. He sang to his microphone and we went on a galloping tour of their “Congressional Library.”

Dad claims that library science is the foundation of all sciences just as math is the key-and that we will survive or founder, depending on how well the librarians do their jobs. Librarians didn’t look glamorous to me but maybe Dad had hit on a not very obvious truth.

This “library” had hundreds, maybe thousands, of Vegans viewing pictures and listening to sound tracks, each with a silvery sphere in front of him. Joe said they were “telling the  memory.” This was equivalent to typing a card for a library’s catalog, except that the result was more like a memory path in brain cells-nine-tenths of that building was an electronic brain.

I spotted a triangular sign like the costume jewelry worn by the Mother Thing, but the picture jumped quickly to something else. Joe also wore one (and others did not) but I did not get around to asking about it, as the sight of that incredible “library” brought up the word “cybernetics” and we went on a detour. I decided later that it might be a lodge pin, or like a Phi Beta Kappa key-the Mother Thing was smart even for a Vegan and Joe was not far behind.

Whenever Joe was sure that he understood some English word, he would wriggle with delight like a puppy being tickled. He was very dignified, but this is not undignified for a Vegan. Their bodies are so fluid and mobile that they smile and frown with the whole works. AVegan holding perfectly still is either displeased or extremely worried.

The sessions with Joe let me tour places from my bed. The difference between “primary school” and “university” caused me to be shown examples. A“kindergarten” looked like an adult Vegan being overwhelmed by babies; it had the innocent rowdiness of a collie pup stepping on his brother’s face to reach the milk dish. But the “university” was a place of quiet beauty, strange-looking trees and plants and flowers among buildings of surrealistic charm unlike any architecture I have ever seen-I suppose I would have been flabbergasted if they had  looked familiar. Parabolas were used a lot and I think all the “straight” lines had that swelling the Greeks called “entasis”-delicate grace with strength.

Joe showed up one day simply undulating with pleasure. He had another silvery ball, larger than the other two. He placed it in front of me, then sang to his own. (“I want you to hear this, Kip!”)

As soon as he ceased the larger sphere spoke in English: “I want you to hear this. Kip!” Squirming with delight, Joe swapped spheres and told me to say something.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked.

(“What do you want me to say?”) the larger sphere sang in Vegan. That was my last session with Prof Joe.

Despite unstinting help, despite the Mother Thing’s ability to make herself understood, I was like the Army mule at West Point: an honorary member of the student body but not prepared for the curriculum. I never did understand their government. Oh, they had government, but it wasn’t any system I’ve heard of. Joe knew about democracies and representation and voting and courts of law; he could fish up examples from many planets. He felt that democracy was “a very good system, for beginners.” It would have sounded patronizing, except that is not  one of their faults.

I never met one of their young. Joe explained that children should not see “strange creatures” until they had learned to feel understanding sympathy. That would have offended me if I hadn’t been learning some “understanding sympathy” myself. Matter of fact, if a human ten-year-old saw a Vegan, he would either run, or poke it with a stick.

I tried to learn about their government from the Mother Thing, in particular how they kept the peace-laws, crimes, punishments, traffic regulations, etc.

It was as near to flat failure as I ever had with her. She pondered a long time, then answered: (“How could one possibly act against one’s own nature?”)  I guess their worst vice was that they didn’t have any. This can be tiresome.

The medical staff were interested in the drugs in Oscar’s helmet-like our interest in a witch doctor’s herbs, but that is not idle interest; remember digitalis and curare.

I told them what each drug did and in most cases I knew the Geneva name as well as the commercial one. I knew that codeine was derived from opium, and opium from poppies. I knew that dexedrine was a sulphate but that was all. Organic chemistry and biochemistry are not easy even with no language trouble. We got together on what a benzene ring was, Peewee drawing it and sticking in her two dollars’ worth, and we managed to agree on “element,” “isotope,” “half life,” and the periodic table. I should have drawn structural formulas, using Peewee’s hands- but neither of us had the slightest idea of the structural formula for codeine and couldn’t do it even when supplied with kindergarten toys which stuck together only in    the valences of the elements they represented.

Peewee had fun, though. They may not have learned much from her; she learned a lot from them.

I don’t know when I became aware that the Mother Thing was not, or wasn’t quite, a female. But it didn’t matter; being a mother is an attitude, not a biological relation.

If Noah launched his ark on Vega Five, the animals would come in by twelves. That makes things complicated. But a “mother thing” is one who takes care of others. I am not sure that all mother things were the same gender; it may have been a matter of temperament.

I met one “father thing.” You might call him “governor” or “mayor,” but “parish priest” or “scoutmaster” is closer, except that his prestige dominated a continent. He breezed in during a session with Joe, stayed five minutes, urged Joe to do a good job, told me to be a good boy and get well, and left, all without hurrying. He filled me with the warm self-reliance that Dad does-I didn’t need to be told that he was a “father thing.” His visit had a flavor of “royalty visiting the wounded” without being condescending-no doubt it was hard to work me into a busy schedule.

Joe neither mothered nor fathered me; he taught me and studied me- “a professor thing.”

Peewee showed up one day full of bubbles. She posed like a mannequin. “Do you like my new spring outfit?”

She was wearing silvery tights, plus a little hump like a knapsack. She looked cute but not glamorous, for she was built like two sticks and this get-up emphasized it. “Very fancy,” I said. “Are you learning to be an acrobat?”

“Don’t be silly, Kip; it’s my new space suit-a real one.”

I glanced at Oscar, big and bulky and filling the closet and said privately, “Hear that, chum?” (“It takes all kinds to make a world.”)

“Your helmet won’t fit it, will it?”

She giggled. “I’m wearing it.”

“You are? ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

“Pretty close. Kip, disconnect your prejudices and listen. This is like the Mother Thing’s suit except that it’s tailored for me. My old suit wasn’t much good-and that cold cold about finished it. But you’ll be amazed at this one. Take the helmet. It’s there, only you can’t see it. It’s a field. Gas can’t go in or out.” She came close. “Slap me.”

“With what?”

“Oh. I forgot. Kip, you’ve got to get well and up off that bed. I want to take you for a walk.” “I’m in favor. They tell me it won’t be long now.”

“It had better not be. Here, I’ll show you.” She hauled off and slapped herself. Her hand smacked into something inches from her face. “Now watch,” she went on. She moved her hand very slowly; it sank through the barrier, she thumbed her nose at me and giggled.

This impressed me-a space suit you could reach into! Why, I would have been able to give Peewee water and dexedrine and sugar pills when she needed them. “I’ll be darned! What does it?”

“Apower pack on my back, under the air tank. The tank is good for a week, too, and hoses can’t give trouble because there aren’t any.” “Uh, suppose you blow a fuse. There you are, with a lungful of vacuum.”

“The Mother Thing says that can’t happen.”

Hmm-I had never known the Mother Thing to be wrong when she made a flat statement.

“That’s not all,” Peewee went on. “It feels like skin, the joints aren’t clumsy, and you’re never hot or cold. It’s like street clothes.” “Uh, you risk a bad sunburn, don’t you? Unhealthy, you tell me. Unhealthy even on the Moon.”

“Oh, no! The field polarizes. That’s what the field is, sort of. Kip, get them to make you one-we’ll go places!”  I glanced at Oscar. (“Please yourself, pal,” he said distantly. “I’m not the jealous type.”)

“Uh, Peewee, I’ll stick to one I understand. But I’d like to examine that monkey suit of yours.” “Monkey suit indeed!”

I woke up one morning, turned over, and realized that I was hungry. Then I sat up with a jerk. I had turned over in bed.

I had been warned to expect it. The “bed” was a bed and my body was back under my control. Furthermore, I was hungry and I hadn’t been hungry the whole time I had been on Vega Five. Whatever that machinery was, it included a way to nourish me without eating.

But I didn’t stop to enjoy the luxury of hunger; it was too wonderful to be a body again, not just a head. I got out of bed, was suddenly dizzy, recovered and grinned. Hands! Feet!   I examined those wonderful things. They were unchanged and unhurt.

Then I looked more closely. No, not quite unchanged.

I had had a scar on my left shin where I had been spiked in a close play at second; it was gone. I once had “Mother” tattooed on my left forearm at a carnival. Mother had been distressed and Dad disgusted, but he had said to leave it as a reminder not to be a witling. It was gone. There was not a callus on hand or foot.

I used to bite my nails. My nails were a bit long but perfect. I had lost the nail from my right little toe years ago through a slip with a hatchet. It was back.  I looked hastily for my appendectomy scar-found it and felt relieved. If it had been missing, I would have wondered if I was me.

There was a mirror over the chest of drawers. It showed me with enough hair to warrant a guitar (I wear a crew cut) but somebody had shaved me.

On the chest was a dollar and sixty-seven cents, a mechanical pencil, a sheet of paper, my watch, and a handkerchief. The watch was running. The dollar bill, the paper, and the handkerchief had been laundered.

My clothes, spandy clean and invisibly repaired, were on the desk. The socks weren’t mine; the material was more like felt, if you will imagine felted material no thicker than Kleenex which stretches instead of tearing. On the floor were tennis shoes, like Peewee’s even to a “U.S. Rubber” trademark, but in my size. The uppers were heavier felted material. I got dressed.

I was wearing the result when Peewee kicked the door. “Anybody home?” She came in, bearing a tray. “Want breakfast?” “Peewee! Look at me!”

She did. “Not bad,” she admitted, “for an ape. You need a haircut.” “Yes, but isn’t it wonderful! I’m all together again!”

“You never were apart,” she answered, “except in spots-I’ve had daily reports. Where do you want this?” She put the tray on the desk. “Peewee,” I asked, rather hurt, “don’t you care that I’m well?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I made ‘em let me carry in your breakfast? But I knew last night that they were going to uncork you. Who do you think cut your nails and shaved you? That’ll be a dollar, please. Shaves have gone up.” I got that tired dollar and handed it to her. She didn’t take it. “Aw, can’t you take a joke?” “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’”

“Polonius. He was a stupid old bore. Honest, Kip, I wouldn’t take your last dollar.” “Now who can’t take a joke?”

“Oh, eat your breakfast. That purple juice,” she said, “tastes like orange juice-it’s very nice. The stuff that looks like scrambled eggs is a fair substitute and I had ‘em color it yellow-the eggs here are dreadful, which wouldn’t surprise you if you knew where they get them. The buttery stuff is vegetable fat and I had them color it, too. The bread is bread, I toasted it myself. The salt is salt and it surprises them that we eat it-they think it’s poison. Go ahead; I’ve guinea-pigged everything. No coffee.”

“I won’t miss it.”

“I never touch the stuff-I’m trying to grow. Eat. Your sugar count has been allowed to drop so that you will enjoy it.” The aroma was wonderful. “Where’s your breakfast, Peewee?”

“I ate hours ago. I’ll watch and swallow when you do.”

The tastes were odd but it was just what the doctor ordered-literally, I suppose. I’ve never enjoyed a meal so much. Presently I slowed down to say, “Knife and fork? Spoons?”

“The only ones on-” She vocalized the planet’s name. “I got tired of fingers and I play hob using what they use. So I drew pictures. This set is mine but we’ll order more.”

There was even a napkin, more felted stuff. The water tasted distilled and not aerated. I didn’t mind. “Peewee, how did you shave me? Not even a nick.”

“Little gismo that beats a razor all hollow. I don’t know what they use it for, but if you could patent it, you’d make a fortune. Aren’t you going to finish that toast?” “Uh-” I had thought that I could eat the tray. “No, I’m full.”

“Then I will.” She used it to mop up the “butter,” then announced, “I’m off!” “Where?”

“To suit up. I’m going to take you for a walk!” She was gone.

The hall outside did not imitate ours where it could not be seen from the bed, but a door to the left was a bathroom, just where it should have been. No attempt had been made to make it look like the one at home, and valving and lighting and such were typically Vegan. But everything worked.

Peewee returned while I was checking Oscar. If they had cut him off me, they had done a marvelous job of repairing; even the places I had patched no longer showed. He had been cleaned so thoroughly that there was no odor inside. He had three hours of air and seemed okay in every way. “You’re in good shape, partner.”

(“In the pink! The service is excellent here.”)

“So I’ve noticed.” I looked up and saw Peewee; she was already in her “spring outfit.” “Peewee, do we need space suits just for a walk?”

“No. You could get by with a respirator, sun glasses, and a sun shade.”

“You’ve convinced me. Say, where’s Madame Pompadour? How do you get her inside that suit?” “No trouble at all, she just bulges a little. But I left her in my room and told her to behave herself.” “Will she?”

“Probably not. She takes after me.” “Where is your room?”

“Next door. This is the only part of the house which is Earth-conditioned.” I started to suit up. “Say, has that fancy suit got a radio?”

“All that yours has and then some. Did you notice the change in Oscar?”

“Huh? What? I saw that he was repaired and cleaned up. What else have they done?”

“Just a little thing. One more click on the switch that changes antennas and you can talk to people around you who aren’t wearing radios without shouting.” “I didn’t see a speaker.”

“They don’t believe in making everything big and bulky.”

As we passed Peewee’s room I glanced in. It was not decorated Vegan style; I had seen Vegan interiors through stereo. Nor was it a copy of her own room-not if her parents were sensible. I don’t know what to call it -“Moorish harem” style, perhaps, as conceived by Mad King Ludwig, with a dash of Disneyland.

I did not comment. I had a hunch that Peewee had been given a room “just like her own” because I had one; that fitted the Mother Thing’s behavior-but Peewee had seen a golden chance to let her overfertile imagination run wild. I doubt if she fooled the Mother Thing one split second. She had probably let that indulgent overtone come into her song and had given Peewee what she wanted.

The Mother Thing’s home was smaller than our state capitol but not much; her family seemed to run to dozens, or hundreds-“family” has a wide meaning under their complex interlinkage. We didn’t see any young ones on our floor and I knew that they were being kept away from the “monsters.” The adults all greeted me, inquired as to my health, and congratulated me on my recovery; I was kept busy saying “Fine, thank you! Couldn’t be better.”

They all knew Peewee and she could sing their names.

I thought I recognized one of my therapists, but the Mother Thing, Prof Joe and the boss veterinarian were the only Vegans I was sure of and we did not meet them.

We hurried on. The Mother Thing’s home was typical-many soft round cushions about a foot thick and four in diameter, used as beds or chairs, floor bare, slick and springy, most furniture on the walls where it could be reached by climbing, convenient rods and poles and brackets a person could drape himself on while using the furniture, plants growing unexpectedly here and there as if the jungle were moving in-delightful, and as useful to me as a corset.

Through a series of parabolic arches we reached a balcony. It was not railed and the drop to a terrace below was about seventy-five feet; I stayed back and regretted again that Oscar had no chin window. Peewee went to the edge, put an arm around a slim pillar and leaned out. In the bright outdoor light her “helmet” became an opalescent sphere. “Come see!”

“And break my neck? Maybe you’d like to belay me?” “Oh, pooh! Who’s afraid of heights?”

“I am when I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“Well, for goodness’ sakes, take my hand and grab a post.” I let her lead me to a pillar, then looked out.

It was a city in a jungle. Thick dark green, so tangled that I could not tell trees from vine and bush, spread out all around but was broken repeatedly by buildings as large and larger than  the one we were in. There were no roads; their roads are underground in cities and sometimes outside the cities. But there was air traffic-individual fliers supported by contrivances even less substantial than our own one-man ‘copter harnesses or flying carpets. Like birds they launched themselves from and landed in balconies such as the one we stood in.

There were real birds, too, long and slender and brilliantly colored, with two sets of wings in tandem-which looked aerodynamically unsound but seemed to suit them. The sky was blue and fair but broken by three towering cumulous anvils, blinding white in the distance.

“Let’s go on the roof,” said Peewee. “How?”

“Over here.”

It was a scuttle hole reached by staggered slender brackets the Vegans use as stairs. “Isn’t there a ramp?” “Around on the far side, yes.”

“I don’t think those things will hold me. And that hole looks small for Oscar.” “Oh, don’t be a sissy,” Peewee went up like a monkey.

I followed like a tired bear. The brackets were sturdy despite their grace; the hole was a snug fit.

Vega was high in the sky. It appeared to be the angular size of our Sun, which fitted since we were much farther out than Terra is from the Sun, but it was too bright even with full polarization. I looked away and presently eyes and polarizers adjusted until I could see again. Peewee’s head was concealed by what appeared to be a polished chrome basketball. I said, “Hey, are you still there?”

“Sure,” she answered. “I can see out all right. It’s a grand view. Doesn’t it remind you of Paris from the top of the Arc de Triomphe?” “I don’t know, I’ve never done any traveling.”

“Except no boulevards, of course. Somebody is about to land here.”

I turned the way she was pointing-she could see in all directions while I was hampered by the built-in tunnel vision of my helmet. By the time I was turned around the Vegan was coming in beside us.

(“Hello, children!”)

“Hi, Mother Thing!” Peewee threw her arms around her, picking her up.

(“Not so hasty, dear. Let me shed this.”) The Mother Thing stepped out of her harness, shook herself in ripples, folded the flying gear like an umbrella and hung it over an arm. (“You’re looking fit, Kip.”)

“I feel fine, Mother Thing! Gee, it’s nice to have you back.”

(“I wished to be back when you got out of bed. However, your therapists have kept me advised every minute.”) She put a little hand against my chest, growing a bit to do so, and placed her eyes almost against my face plate. (“You are well?”)

“I couldn’t be better.”

“He really is, Mother Thing!”

(“Good. You agree that you are well, I sense that you are, Peewee is sure that you are and, most important, your leader therapist assures me that you are. We’ll leave at once.”) “What?” I asked. “Where, Mother Thing?”

She turned to Peewee. (“Haven’t you told him, dear?”) “Gee, Mother Thing, I haven’t had a chance.”

(“Very well.”) She turned to me. (“Dear Kip, we must now attend a gathering. Questions will be asked and answered, decisions will be made.”) She spoke to us both. (“Are you ready to leave?”)

“Now?” said Peewee. “Why, I guess so-except that I’ve got to get Madame Pompadour.” (“Fetch her, then. And you, Kip?”)

“Uh-” I couldn’t remember whether I had put my watch back on after I washed and I couldn’t tell because I can’t feel it through Oscar’s thick hide. I told her so. (“Very well. You children run to your rooms while I have a ship fetched. Meet me here and don’t stop to admire flowers.”)

We went down by ramp. I said, “Peewee, you’ve been holding out on me again.” “Why, I have not!”

“What do you call it?”

“Kip-please listen! I was told not to tell you while you were ill. The Mother Thing was very firm about it. You were not to be disturbed-that’s what she said!-while you were growing well.” “Why should I feel disturbed? What is all this? What gathering? What questions?”

“Well … the gathering is sort of a court. Acriminal court, you might say.”

“Huh?” I took a quick look at my conscience. But I hadn’t had any chance to do anything wrong-I had been helpless as a baby up to two hours ago. That left Peewee. “Runt,” I said sternly, “what have you done now?”

“Me? Nothing.” “Think hard.”

“No, Kip. Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at breakfast! But Daddy says never to break any news until after his second cup of coffee and I thought how nice it would be to take a little walk before we had any worries and I was going to tell you”

“Make it march.”

“-as soon as we came down. I haven’t done anything. But there’s old Wormface.” “What? I thought he was dead.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. But, as the Mother Thing says, there are still questions to be asked, decisions to be made. He’s up for the limit, is my guess.”

I thought about it as we wound our way through strange apartments toward the air lock that led to our Earth-conditioned rooms. High crimes and misdemeanors … skulduggery in the spaceways-yes, Wormface was probably in for it. If the Vegans could catch him. “Had caught him” apparently, since they were going to try him. “But where do we come in? As witnesses?”

“I suppose you could call it that.”

What happened to Wormface was no skin off my nose-and it would be a chance to find out more about the Vegans. Especially if the court was some distance away, so that we would travel and see the country.

“But that isn’t all,” Peewee went on worriedly. “What else?”

She sighed. “This is why I wanted us to have a nice sight-see first. Uh …” “Don’t chew on it. Spit it out.”

“Well … we have to be tried, too.” “What?”

“Maybe ‘examined’ is the word. I don’t know. But I know this: we can’t go home until we’ve been judged.” “But what have we done?” I burst out.

“I don’t know!”

My thoughts were boiling. “Are you sure they’ll let us go home then?”

“The Mother Thing refuses to talk about it.”

I stopped and took her arm. “What it amounts to,” I said bitterly, “is that we are under arrest. Aren’t we?” “Yes-” She added almost in a sob, “But, Kip, I told you she was a cop!”

“Great stuff. We pull her chestnuts out of the fire-and now we’re arrested-and going to be tried-and we don’t even know why! Nice place, Vega Five. ‘The natives are friendly.’ ” They had nursed me-as we nurse a gangster in order to hang him.

“But, Kip-” Peewee was crying openly now. “I’m sure it’ll be all right. She may be a cop-but she’s still the Mother Thing.” “Is she? I wonder.” Peewee’s manner contradicted her words. She was not one to worry over nothing. Quite the contrary.

My watch was on the washstand. I ungasketed to put it in an inside pocket. When I came out, Peewee was doing the same with Madame Pompadour. “Here,” I said, “I’ll take her with me. I’ve got more room.”

“No, thank you,” Peewee answered bleakly. “I need her with me. Especially now.” “Uh, Peewee, where is this court? This city? Or another one?”

“Didn’t I tell you? No, I guess I didn’t. It’s not on this planet.” “I thought this was the only inhabited-“

“It’s not a planet around Vega. Another star. Not even in the Galaxy.” “Say that again?”

“It’s somewhere in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud.”

Chapter 10

I didn’t put up a fight-a hundred and sixty trillion miles from nowhere, I mean. But I didn’t speak to the Mother Thing as I got into her ship.

It was shaped like an old-fashioned beehive and it looked barely big enough to jump us to the space port. Peewee and I crowded together on the floor, the Mother Thing curled up in front and twiddled a shiny rack like an abacus; we took off, straight up.

In a few minutes my anger grew from sullenness to a reckless need to settle it. “Mother Thing!”

(“One moment, dear. Let me get us out of the atmosphere.”) She pushed something, the ship quivered and steadied. “Mother Thing,” I repeated.

(“Wait until I lower us, Kip.”)

I had to wait. It’s as silly to disturb a pilot as it is to snatch the wheel of a car. The little ship took a buffeting; the upper winds must have been dillies. But she could pilot.

Presently there was a gentle bump and I figured we must be at the space port. The Mother Thing turned her head. (“All right, Kip. I sense your fear and resentment. Will it help to say that you two are in no danger? That I would protect you with my body? As you protected mine?”)

“Yes, but-“

(“Then let be. It is easier to show than it is to explain. Don’t clamp your helmet. This planet’s air is like your own.”) “Huh? You mean we’re there?”

“I told you,” Peewee said at my elbow. “Just poof! and you’re there.” I didn’t answer. I was trying to guess how far we were from home. (“Come, children.”)

It was midday when we left; it was night as we disembarked. The ship rested on a platform that stretched out of sight. Stars in front of me were in unfamiliar constellations; slaunchwise down the sky was a thin curdling which I spotted as the Milky Way. So Peewee had her wires crossed-we were far from home but still in the Galaxy-perhaps we had simply switched to  the night side of Vega Five.

I heard Peewee gasp and turned around. I didn’t have strength to gasp.

Dominating that whole side of the sky was a great whirlpool of millions, maybe billions, of stars.

You’ve seen pictures of the Great Nebula in Andromeda?-a giant spiral of two curving arms, seen at an angle. Of all the lovely things in the sky it is the most beautiful. This was like that. Only we weren’t seeing a photograph nor even by telescope; we were so close (if “close” is the word) that it stretched across the sky twice as long as the Big Dipper as seen from home-

so close that I saw the thickening at the center, two great branches coiling around and overtaking each other. We saw it from an angle so that it appeared elliptical, just as M31 in

Andromeda does; you could feel its depth, you could see its shape.

Then I knew I was a long way from home. That was home, up there, lost in billions of crowded stars.

It was some time before I noticed another double spiral on my right, almost as wide-flung but rather lopsided and not nearly as brilliant-a pale ghost of our own gorgeous Galaxy. It slowly penetrated that this second one must be the Greater Magellanic Cloud-if we were in the Lesser and if that fiery whirlpool was our own Galaxy. What I had thought was “The Milky Way”

was simply a milky way, the Lesser Cloud from inside.

I turned and looked at it again. It had the right shape, a roadway around the sky, but it was pale skim milk compared with our own, about as our Milky Way looks on a murky night. I don’t know how it should look, since I’d never seen the Magellanic Clouds; I’ve never been south of the Rio Grande. But I did know that each cloud is a galaxy in its own right, but smaller than ours and grouped with us.

I looked again at our blazing spiral and was homesick in a way I hadn’t been since I was six.

Peewee was huddling to the Mother Thing for comfort. She made herself taller and put an arm around Peewee. (“There, there, dear! I felt the same way when I was very young and saw it for the first time.”)

“Mother Thing?” Peewee said timidly. “Where is home?”

(“See the right half of it, dear, where the outer arm trails into nothingness? We came from a point two-thirds the way out from the center.” “No, no! Not Vega. I want to know where the Sun is!”

(“Oh, your star. But, dear, at this distance it is the same.”)

We learned how far it is from the Sun to the planet Lanador 167,000 light-years. The Mother Thing couldn’t tell us directly as she did not know how much time we meant by a “year”-how long it takes Terra to go around the Sun (a figure she might have used once or not at all and as worth remembering as the price of peanuts in Perth). But she did know the distance from Vega to the Sun and told us the distance from Lanador to Vega with that as a yardstick-six thousand one hundred and ninety times as great. 6190 times 27 light-years gives 167,000 light-years. She courteously gave it in powers of ten the way we figure, instead of using factorial five (1x2x3x4x5 equals 120) which is how Vegans figure. 167,000 light-years is 9.82 x 1017 miles. Round off 9.82 and call it ten. Then -1,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles -is the distance from Vega to Lanador (or from the Sun to Lanador; Vega and the Sun are back-fence neighbors on this scale.)

Athousand million billion miles.

I refuse to have anything to do with such a preposterous figure. It may be “short” as cosmic distances go, but there comes a time when the circuit breakers in your skull trip out from overload.

The platform we were on was the roof of an enormous triangular building, miles on a side. We saw that triangle repeated in many places and always with a two-armed spiral in each corner. It was the design the Mother Thing wore as jewelry.

It is the symbol for “Three Galaxies, One Law.”

I’ll lump here things I learned in driblets: The Three Galaxies are like our Federated Free Nations, or the United Nations before that, or the League of Nations still earlier; Lanador houses their offices and courts and files-the League’s capital, the way the FFN is in New York and the League of Nations used to be in Switzerland. The cause is historical; the people of Lanador are the Old Race; that’s where civilization began.

The Three Galaxies are an island group, like Hawaii State, they haven’t any other close neighbors. Civilization spread through the Lesser Cloud, then through the Greater Cloud and is seeping slowly through our own Galaxy-that is taking longer; there are fifteen or twenty times as many stars in our Galaxy as in the other two.

When I began to get these things straight I wasn’t quite as sore. The Mother Thing was a very important person at home but here she was a minor official-all she could do was bring us in. Still, I wasn’t more than coolly polite for a while-she might have looked the other way while we beat it for home.

They housed us in that enormous building in a part you could call a “transients” hotel,” although “detention barracks” or “jail” is closer. I can’t complain about accommodations but I was getting confoundedly tired of being locked up every time I arrived in a new place. Arobot met us and took us down inside-there are robots wherever you turn on Lanador. I don’t mean

things looking like the Tin Woodman; I mean machines that do things for you, such as this one which led us to our rooms, then hung around like a bellhop expecting a tip. It was a three- wheeled cart with a big basket on top, for luggage if we had any. It met us, whistled to the Mother Thing in Vegan and led us away, down a lift and through a wide and endlessly long corridor.

I was given “my” room again-a fake of a fake, with all errors left in and new ones added. The sight of it was not reassuring; it shrieked that they planned to keep us there as long as-well, as long as they chose.

But the room was complete even to a rack for Oscar and a bathroom outside. Just beyond “my” room was a fake of another kind-a copy of that Arabian Nights horror Peewee had occupied on Vega Five. Peewee seemed delighted, so I didn’t point out the implications.

The Mother Thing hovered around while we got out of space suits. (“Do you think you will be comfortable?”) “Oh, sure,” I agreed unenthusiastically.

(“If you want food or anything, just say so. It will come.”) “So? Is there a telephone somewhere?”           (“Simply speak your wishes. You will be heard.”)

I didn’t doubt her-but I was almost as tired of rooms that were bugged as of being locked up; a person ought to have privacy. “I’m hungry now,” Peewee commented. “I had an early breakfast.”

We were in her room. Apurple drapery drew back, a light glowed in the wall. In about two minutes a section of wall disappeared; a slab at table height stuck out like a tongue. On it were dishes and silverware, cold cuts, fruit, bread, butter,, and a mug of steaming cocoa. Peewee clapped and squealed. I looked at it with less enthusiasm.

(“You see?”) the Mother Thing went on with a smile in her voice. (“Ask for what you need. If you need me, I’ll come. But I must go now.”) “Oh, please don’t go, Mother Thing.”

(“I must, Peewee dear. But I will see you soon. By the bye, there are two more of your people here.”) “Huh?” I put in. “Who? Where?”

(“Next door.”) She was gone with gliding swiftness; the bellhop speeded up to stay ahead of her. I spun around. “Did you hear that?”

“I certainly did!”

“Well-you eat if you want to; I’m going to look for those other humans.” “Hey! Wait for me!”

“I thought you wanted to eat.”

“Well …” Peewee looked at the food. “Just a sec.” She hastily buttered two slices of bread and handed one to me. I was not in that much of a hurry; I ate it. Peewee gobbled hers, took a gulp from the mug and offered it to me. “Want some?”

It wasn’t quite cocoa; there was a meaty flavor, too. But it was good. I handed it back and she finished it. “Now I can fight wildcats. Let’s go, Kip.”

“Next door” was through the foyer of our three-room suite and fifteen yards down the corridor, where we came to a door arch. I kept Peewee back and glanced in cautiously.  It was a diorama, a fake scene.

This one was better than you see in museums. I was looking through a bush at a small clearing in wild country. It ended in a limestone bank. I could see overcast sky and a cave mouth in the rocks. The ground was wet, as if from rain.

Acave man hunkered down close to the cave. He was gnawing the carcass of a small animal, possibly a squirrel.

Peewee tried to shove past me; I stopped her. The cave man did not appear to notice us which struck me as a good idea. His legs looked short but I think he weighed twice what I do and he was muscled like a weight lifter, with short, hairy forearms and knotty biceps and calves. His head was huge, bigger than mine and longer, but his forehead and chin weren’t much.   His teeth were large and yellow and a front one was broken. I heard bones crunching.

In a museum I would have expected a card reading “Neanderthal Man -circa Last Ice Age.” But wax dummies of extinct breeds don’t crack bones. Peewee protested, “Hey, let me look.”

He heard. Peewee stared at him, he stared toward us. Peewee squealed; he whirled and ran into the cave, waddling but making time.  I grabbed Peewee. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Wait a minute,” she said calmly. “He won’t come out in a hurry.” She tried to push the bush aside. “Peewee!”

“Try this,” she suggested. Her hand was shoving air. “They’ve got him penned.”

I tried it. Something transparent blocked the arch. I could push it a little but not more than an inch. “Plastic?” I suggested. “Like Lucite but springier?” “Mmm …” said Peewee. “More like the helmet of my suit. Tougher, though-and I’ll bet light passes only one way. I don’t think he saw us.”

“Okay, let’s get back to our rooms. Maybe we can lock them.”

She went on feeling that barrier. “Peewee!” I said sharply. “You’re not listening.” “What were you doing talking,” she answered reasonably, “when I wasn’t listening?” “Peewee! This is no time to be difficult.”

“You sound like Daddy. He dropped that rat he was eating-he might come back.”

“If he does, you won’t be here, because I’m about to drag you-and if you bite, I’ll bite back. I warn you.”

She looked around with a trace of animosity. “I wouldn’t bite you. Kip, no matter what you did. But if you’re going to be stuffy-oh, well, I doubt if he’ll come out for an hour or so. We’ll come back.”

“Okay.” I pulled her away.

But we did not leave. I heard a loud whistle and a shout: “Hey, buster! Over here!”

The words were not English, but I understood-well enough. The yell came from an archway across the corridor and a little farther on. I hesitated, then moved toward it because Peewee did so.

Aman about forty-five was loafing in this doorway. He was no Neanderthal; he was civilized-or somewhat so. He wore a long heavy woolen tunic, belted in at the waist, forming a sort of

kilt. His legs below that were wrapped in wool and he was shod in heavy short boots, much worn. At the belt and supported by a shoulder sling was a short, heavy sword; there was a dagger on the other side of the belt. His hair was short and he was clean-shaven save for a few days’ gray stubble. His expression was neither friendly nor unfriendly; it was sharply watchful.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “Are you the jailer?” Peewee gasped. “Why, that’s Latin!”

What do you do when you meet a Legionary? Right after a cave man? I answered: “No, I am a prisoner myself.” I said it in Spanish and repeated it in pretty fair classical Latin. I used Spanish because Peewee hadn’t been quite correct. It was not Latin he spoke, not the Latin of Ovid and Gaius Julius Caesar. Nor was it Spanish. It was in between, with an atrocious accent and other differences. But I could worry out the meaning.

He sucked his lip and answered, “That’s bad. I’ve been trying for three days to attract attention and all I get is another prisoner. But that’s how the die rolls. Say, that’s a funny accent you have.”

“Sorry, amigo, but I have trouble understanding you, too.” I repeated it in Latin, then split the difference. I added, in improvised lingua franca, “Speak slowly, will you?” “I’ll speak as I please. And don’t call me ‘amico’; I’m a Roman citizen -so don’t get gay.”

That’s a free translation. His advice was more vulgar-I think. It was close to a Spanish phrase which certainly is vulgar. “What’s he saying?” demanded Peewee. “It is Latin, isn’t it? Translate!”

I was glad she hadn’t caught it. “Why, Peewee, don’t you know ‘the language of poetry and science’?” “Oh, don’t be a smartie! Tell me.”

“Don’t crowd me, hon. I’ll tell you later. I’m having trouble following it.”

“What is that barbarian grunting?” the Roman said pleasantly. “Talk language, boy. Or will you have ten with the flat of the sword?”

He seemed to be leaning on nothing-so I felt the air. It was solid; I decided not to worry about his threat. “I’m talking as best I can. We spoke to each other in our own language.”  “Pig grunts. Talk Latin. If you can.” He looked at Peewee as if just noticing her. “Your daughter? Want to sell her? If she had meat on her bones, she might be worth a half denario.” Peewee clouded up. “I understood that!” she said fiercely. “Come out here and fight!”

“Try it in Latin,” I advised her. “If he understands you, he’ll probably spank you.” She looked uneasy. “You wouldn’t let him?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” “Let’s go back.”

“That’s what I said earlier.” I escorted her past the cave man’s lair to our suite. “Peewee, I’m going back and see what our noble Roman has to say. Do you mind?” “I certainly do!”

“Be reasonable, hon. If we could be hurt by them, the Mother Thing would know it. After all, she told us they were here.” “I’ll go with you.”

“What for? I’ll tell you everything I learn. This may be a chance to find out what this silliness means. What’s he doing here? Have they kept him in deep-freeze a couple of thousand years? How long has he been awake? What does he know that we don’t? We’re in a bad spot; all the data I can dig up we need. You can help by keeping out. If you’re scared, send for the

Mother Thing.”

She pouted. “I’m not scared. All right-if that’s the way you want it.” “I do. Eat your dinner.”

Jo-Jo the dogface boy was not in sight; I gave his door a wide berth. If a ship can go anywhere in no time, could it skip a dimension and go anywhere to any time? How would the math work out? The soldier was still lounging at his door. He looked up. “Didn’t you hear me say to stick around?”

“I heard you,” I admitted, “but we’re not going to get anywhere if you take that attitude. I’m not one of your privates.” “Lucky for you!”

“Do we talk peacefully? Or do I leave?”

He looked me over. “Peace. But don’t get smart with me, barbarian.”

He called himself “Iunio.” He had served in Spain and Gaul, then transferred to the VIth Legion, the “Victrix”-which he felt that even a barbarian should know of. His legion’s garrison was Eboracum, north of Londinium in Britain, but he had been on advance duty as a brevet centurion (he pronounced it “centurio”)-his permanent rank was about like top sergeant. He was smaller than I am but I would not want to meet him in an alley. Nor at the palisades of a castra.

He had a low opinion of Britons and all barbarians including me (“nothing personal-some of my best friends are barbarians”), women, the British climate, high brass, and priests; he thought well of Caesar, Rome, the gods, and his own professional ability. The army wasn’t what it used to be and the slump came from treating auxiliaries like Roman citizens.

He had been guarding the building of a wall to hold back barbarians-a nasty lot who would sneak up and slit your throat and eat you-which no doubt had happened to him, since he was now in the nether regions.

I thought he was talking about Hadrian’s Wall, but it was three days’ march north of there, where the seas were closest together. The climate there was terrible and the natives were bloodthirsty beasts who dyed their bodies and didn’t appreciate civilization-you’d think the Eagles were trying to steal their dinky island. Provincial … like me. No offense meant.

Nevertheless he had bought a little barbarian to wife and had been looking forward to garrison duty at Eboracum-when this happened. Iunio shrugged. “Perhaps if I had been careful with lustrations and sacrifices, my luck wouldn’t have run out. But I figure that if a man does his duty and keeps himself and his weapons clean, the rest is the C.O.’s worry. Careful of that doorway; it’s witched.”

The longer he talked the easier it was to understand him. The “-us” endings turned to “-o” and his vocabulary was not that of De Bello Gallico -“horse” wasn’t “equus”; it was “caballo.” His idioms bothered me, plus the fact that his Latin was diluted by a dozen barbarian tongues. But you can blank out every third word in a newspaper and still catch the gist.

I learned a lot about the daily life and petty politics of the Victrix and nothing that I wanted to know. Iunio did not know how he had gotten where he was nor why-except that he was dead and awaiting disposition in a receiving barracks somewhere in the nether world-a theory which I was not yet prepared to accept.

He knew the year of his “death”-Year Eight of the Emperor and Eight Hundred and Ninety-Nine of Rome. I wrote out the dates in Roman numerals to make sure. But I did not remember when Rome was founded nor could I identify the “Caesar” even by his full name-there have been so many Caesars. But Hadrian’s Wall had been built and Britain was still occupied; that placed lunio close to the third century.

He wasn’t interested in the cave man across the way-it embodied to him the worst vice of a barbarian: cowardice. I didn’t argue but I would be timid, too, if I had saber-toothed tigers yowling at my door. (Did they have sabertooths then? Make it “cave bears.”)

Iunio went back and returned with hard dark bread, cheese, and a cup. He did not offer me any and I don’t think it was the barrier. He poured a little of his drink on the floor and started to chomp. It was a mud floor; the walls were rough stone and the ceiling was supported by wooden beams. It may have been a copy of dwellings during the occupation of Britain, but I’m no

expert.

I didn’t stay much longer. Not only did bread and cheese remind me that I was hungry, but I offended lunio. I don’t know what set him off, but he discussed me with cold thoroughness,   my eating habits, ancestry, appearance, conduct, and method of earning a living. Iunio was pleasant as long as you agreed with him, ignored insults, and deferred to him. Many older people demand this, even in buying a thirty-nine-cent can of talcum; you learn to give it without thinking-otherwise you get a reputation as a fresh kid and potential juvenile delinquent. The less respect an older person deserves the more certain he is to demand it from anyone younger. So I left, as lunio didn’t know anything helpful anyhow. As I went back I saw the cave   man peering out his cave. I said, “Take it easy, Jo-Jo,” and went on.

I bumped into another invisible barrier blocking our archway. I felt it, then said quietly, “I want to go in.” The barrier melted away and I walked in-then found that it was back in place.  My rubber soles made no noise and I didn’t call out because Peewee might be asleep. Her door was open and I peeped in. She was sitting tailor-fashion on that incredible Oriental

divan, rocking Madame Pompadour and crying.

I backed away, then returned whistling, making a racket, and calling to her. She popped out of her door, with smiling face and no trace of tears. “Hi, Kip! It took you long enough.” “That guy talks too much. What’s new?”

“Nothing. I ate and you didn’t come back, so I took a nap. You woke me. What did you find out?” “Let me order dinner and I’ll tell you while I eat.”

I was chasing the last bit of gravy when a bellhop robot came for us. It was like the other one except that it had in glowing gold on its front that triangle with three spirals. “Follow me,” it said in English.

I looked at Peewee. “Didn’t the Mother Thing say she was coming back?” “Why, I thought so.”

The machine repeated, “Follow me. Your presence is required.”

I laid my ears back. I have taken lots of orders, some of which I shouldn’t have, but I had never yet taken orders from a piece of machinery. “Go climb a rope!” I said. “You’ll have to drag me.”

This is not what to say to a robot. It did.

Peewee yelled, “Mother Thing! Where are you? Help us!”

Her birdsong came out of the machine. (“It’s all right, dears. The servant will lead you to me.”)

I quit struggling and started to walk. That refugee from an appliance dealer took us into another lift, then into a corridor whose walls whizzed past as soon as we entered. It nudged us through an enormous archway topped by the triangle and spirals and herded us into a pen near one wall. The pen was not apparent until we moved-more of that annoying solid air.

It was the biggest room I have ever been in, triangular, unbroken by post or pillar, with ceiling so high and walls so distant that I half expected local thunderstorms. An enormous room makes me feel like an ant; I was glad to be near a wall. The room was not empty-hundreds in it-but it looked empty because they were all near the walls; the giant floor was bare.

But there were three wormfaces out in the center-Wormface’s trial was in progress.

I don’t know if our own Wormface was there. I would not have known even if they had not been a long way off as the difference between two wormfaces is the difference between having your throat cut and being beheaded. But, as we learned, the presence or absence of the individual offender was the least important part of a trial. Wormface was being tried, present or not-alive or dead.

The Mother Thing was speaking. I could see her tiny figure, also far out on the floor but apart from the wormfaces. Her birdsong voice reached me faintly but I heard her words clearly-in English; from somewhere near us her translated words were piped to us. The feel of her was in the English translation just as it was in her bird tones.

She was telling what she knew of wormface conduct, as dispassionately as if describing something under a microscope, like a traffic officer testifying: “At 9:17 on the fifth, while on duty at-” etc. The facts. The Mother Thing was finishing her account of events on Pluto. She chopped it off at the point of explosion.

Another voice spoke, in English. It was flat with a nasal twang and reminded me of a Vermont grocer we had dealt with one summer when I was a kid. He was a man who never smiled nor frowned and what little he said was all in the same tone, whether it was, “She is a good woman,” or, “That man would cheat his own son,” or, “Eggs are fifty-nine cents,” cold as a cash register. This voice was that sort.

It said to the Mother Thing: “Have you finished?” “I have finished.”

“The other witnesses will be heard. Clifford Russell-“

I jumped, as if that grocer had caught me in the candy jar. The voice went on: “-listen carefully.” Another voice started.

My own-it was the account I had dictated, flat on my back on Vega Five.

But it wasn’t all of it; it was just that which concerned wormfaces. Adjectives and whole sentences had been cut-as if someone had taken scissors to a tape recording. The facts were there; what I thought about them was missing.

It started with ships landing in the pasture back of our house; it ended with that last wormface stumbling blindly down a hole. It wasn’t long, as so much had been left out-our hike across the Moon, for example. My description of Wormface was left in but had been trimmed so much that I could have been talking about Venus de Milo instead of the ugliest thing in creation.

My recorded voice ended and the Yankee-grocer voice said, “Were those your words?” “Huh? Yes.”

“Is the account correct?” “Yes, but-“

“Is it correct?” “Yes.”

“Is it complete?”

I wanted to say that it certainly was not-but I was beginning to understand the system. “Yes.” “Patricia Wynant Reisfeld-“

Peewee’s story started earlier and covered all those days when she had been in contact with wormfaces while I was not. But it was not much longer, for, while Peewee has a sharp eye and a sharper memory, she is loaded with opinions. Opinions were left out.

When Peewee had agreed that her evidence was correct and complete the Yankee voice stated, “All witnesses have been heard, all known facts have been integrated. The three individuals may speak for themselves.”

I think the wormfaces picked a spokesman, perhaps the Wormface, if he was alive and there. Their answer, as translated into English, did not have the guttural accent with which

Wormface spoke English; nevertheless it was a wormface speaking. That bone-chilling yet highly intelligent viciousness, as unmistakable as a punch in the teeth, was in every syllable.

Their spokesman was so far away that I was not upset by his looks and after the first stomach-twisting shock of that voice I was able to listen more or less judicially. He started by denying that this court had jurisdiction over his sort. He was responsible only to his mother-queen and she only to their queen-groups-that’s how the English came out.

That defense, he claimed, was sufficient. However, if the “Three Galaxies” confederation existed-which he had no reason to believe other than that he was now being detained unlawfully before this hiveful of creatures met as a kangaroo court-if it existed, it still had no jurisdiction over the Only People, first, because the organization did not extend to his part of space; second, because even if it were there, the Only People had never joined and therefore its rules (if it had rules) could not apply; and third, it was inconceivable that their queen-group would associate itself with this improbable “Three Galaxies” because people do not contract with animals.

This defense was also sufficient.

But disregarding for the sake of argument these complete and sufficient defenses, this trial was a mockery because no offense existed even under the so-called rules of the alleged “Three Galaxies.” They (the wormfaces) had been operating in their own part of space engaged in occupying a useful but empty planet, Earth. No possible crime could lie in colonizing land inhabited merely by animals. As for the agent of Three Galaxies, she had butted in; she had not been harmed; she had merely been kept from interfering and had been detained only for the purpose of returning her where she belonged.

He should have stopped. Any of these defenses might have stood up, especially the last one. I used to think of the human race as “lords of creation”-but things had happened to me since. I was not sure that this assemblage would think that humans had rights compared with wormfaces. Certainly the wormfaces were ahead of us in many ways. When we clear jungle to make farms, do we worry if baboons are there first?

But he discarded these defenses, explained that they were intellectual exercises to show how foolish the whole thing was under any rules, from any point of view. He would now make his defense.

It was an attack.

The viciousness in his voice rose to a crescendo of hatred that made every word slam like a blow. How dared they do this? They were mice voting to bell the cat! (I know-but that’s how it came out in translation.) They were animals to be eaten, or merely vermin to be exterminated. Their mercy would be rejected if offered, no negotiation was possible, their crimes would never be forgotten, the Only People would destroy them!

I looked around to see how the jury was taking it. This almost-empty hall had hundreds of creatures around the three sides and many were close to us. I had been too busy with the trial to do more than glance at them. Now I looked, for the wormface’s blast was so disturbing that I welcomed a distraction.

They were all sorts and I’m not sure that any two were alike. There was one twenty feet from me who was as horrible as Wormface and amazingly like him-except that this creature’s   grisly appearance did not inspire disgust. There were others almost human in appearance, although they were greatly in the minority. There was one really likely-looking chick as human as I am-except for iridescent skin and odd and skimpy notions of dress. She was so pretty that I would have sworn that the iridescence was just make-up-but I probably would have been wrong. I wondered in what language the diatribe was reaching her? Certainly not English.

Perhaps she felt my stare, for she looked around and unsmilingly examined me, as I might a chimpanzee in a cage. I guess the attraction wasn’t mutual.

There was every gradation from pseudo-wormface to the iridescent girl -not only the range between, but also way out in left field; some had their own private aquaria.

I could not tell how the invective affected them. The girl creature was taking it quietly, but what can you say about a walrus thing with octopus arms? If he twitches, is he angry? Or laughing? Or itches where the twitch is?

The Yankee-voiced spokesman let the wormface rave on.

Peewee was holding my hand. Now she grabbed my ear, tilted her face and whispered, “He talks nasty.” She sounded awed.

The wormface ended with a blast of hate that must have overtaxed the translator for instead of English we heard a wordless scream. The Yankee voice said flatly, “But do you have anything to say in your defense?”

The scream was repeated, then the wormface became coherent. “I have made my defense-that no defense is necessary.” The emotionless voice went on, to the Mother Thing. “Do you speak for them?”

She answered reluctantly, “My lord peers … I am forced to say … that I found them to be quite naughty.” She sounded grieved. “You find against them?”

“I do.”

“Then you may not be heard. Such is the Law.” ” ‘Three Galaxies, One Law.’ I may not speak.”

The flat voice went on, “Will any witness speak favorably?” There was silence.

That was my chance to be noble. We humans were their victims; we were in a position to speak up, point out that from their standpoint they hadn’t done anything wrong, and ask mercy-if they would promise to behave in the future.

Well, I didn’t. I’ve heard all the usual Sweetness and Light that kids get pushed at them-how they should always forgive, how there’s some good in the worst of us, etc. But when I see a black widow, I step on it; I don’t plead with it to be a good little spider and please stop poisoning people. Ablack widow spider can’t help it-but that’s the point.

The voice said to the wormfaces: “Is there any race anywhere which might speak for you? If so, it will be summoned.” The spokesman wormface spat at the idea. That another race might be character witnesses for them disgusted him. “So be it,” answered the Yankee voice. “Are the facts sufficient to permit a decision?”

Almost immediately the voice answered itself: “Yes.” “What is the decision?”

Again it answered itself: “Their planet shall be rotated.”

It didn’t sound like much-shucks, all planets rotate-and the flat voice held no expression. But the verdict scared me. The whole room seemed to shudder.

The Mother Thing turned and came toward us. It was a long way but she reached us quickly. Peewee flung herself on her; the solid air that penned us solidified still more until we three were in a private room, a silvery hemisphere.

Peewee was trembling and gasping and the Mother Thing comforted her. When Peewee had control of herself, I said nervously, “Mother Thing? What did he mean? ‘Their planet shall be rotated.’ “

She looked at me without letting go of Peewee and her great soft eyes were sternly sad. (“It means that their planet is tilted ninety degrees out of the space-time of your senses and mine.”)

Her voice sounded like a funeral dirge played softly on a flute. Yet the verdict did not seem tragic to me. I knew what she meant; her meaning was even clearer in Vegan than in English. If you rotate a plane figure about an axis in its plane-it disappears. It is no longer in a plane and Mr. A. Square of Flatland is permanently out of touch with it.

But it doesn’t cease to exist; it just is no longer where it was. It struck me that the wormfaces were getting off easy. I had halfway expected their planet to be blown up (and I didn’t doubt

that Three Galaxies could do so), or something equally drastic. As it was, the wormfaces were to be run out of town and would never find their way back-there are so many, many dimensions-but they wouldn’t be hurt; they were just being placed in Coventry.

But the Mother Thing sounded as if she had taken unwilling part in a hanging. So I asked her.

(“You do not understand, dear gentle Kip-they do not take their star with them.”) “Oh-” was all I could say.

Peewee turned white.

Stars are the source of life-planets are merely life’s containers. Chop off the star … and the planet gets colder … and colder … and colder-then still colder. How long until the very air freezes? How many hours or days to absolute zero? I shivered and got goose pimples. Worse than Pluto-

“Mother Thing? How long before they do this?” I had a queasy misgiving that I should have spoken, that even wormfaces did not deserve this. Blow them up, shoot them down-but don’t freeze them.

(“It is done,”) she sang in that same dirgelike way. “What?”

(“The agent charged with executing the decision waits for the word … the message goes out the instant we hear it. They were rotated out of our world even before I turned to join you. It is better so.”)

I gulped and heard an echo in my mind: “-‘twere well it were done quickly.”

But the Mother Thing was saying rapidly, (“Think no more on ‘t, for now you must be brave!”) “Huh? What, Mother Thing? What happens now?”

(“You’ll be summoned any moment-for your own trial.”)

I simply stared, I could not speak-I had thought it was all over. Peewee looked still thinner and whiter but did not cry. She wet her lips and said quietly, “You’ll come with us, Mother Thing?”

(“Oh, my children! I cannot. You must face this alone.”)

I found my voice. “But what are we being tried for? We haven’t hurt anybody. We haven’t done a thing.” (“Not you personally. Your race is on trial. Through you.”)

Peewee turned away from her and looked at me-and I felt a thrill of tragic pride that in our moment of extremity she had turned, not to the Mother Thing, but to me, another human being.

I knew that she was thinking of the same thing I was: a ship, a ship hanging close to Earth, only an instant away and yet perhaps uncounted trillion miles in some pocket of folded space, where no DEW line gives warning, where no radar can reach.

The Earth, green and gold and lovely, turning lazily in the warm light of the Sun- Aflat voice- No more Sun.

No stars.

The orphaned Moon would bobble once, then continue around the Sun, a gravestone to the hopes of men. The few at Lunar Base and Luna City and Tombaugh Station would last weeks or even months, the only human beings left alive. Then they would go-if not of suffocation, then of grief and loneliness.

Peewee said shrilly, “Kip, she’s not serious! Tell me she’s not!”

I said hoarsely, “Mother Thing-are the executioners already waiting?”

She did not answer. She said to Peewee, (“It is very serious, my daughter. But do not be afraid. I exacted a promise before I surrendered you. If things go against your race, you two will return with me and be suffered to live out your little lives in my home. So stand up and tell the truth … and do not be afraid.”)

The flat voice entered the closed space: “The human beings are summoned.”

Chapter 11

We walked out onto that vast floor. The farther we went the more I felt like a fly on a plate. Having Peewee with me was a help; nevertheless it was that nightmare where you find yourself not decently dressed in a public place. Peewee clutched my hand and held Madame Pompadour pressed tightly to her. I wished that I had suited-up in Oscar-I wouldn’t have felt quite so under a microscope with Oscar around me.

Just before we left, the Mother Thing placed her hand against my forehead and started to hold me with her eyes. I pushed her hand aside and looked away. “No,” I told her. “No treatments! I’m not going to-oh, I know you mean well but I won’t take an anesthetic. Thanks.”

She did not insist; she simply turned to Peewee. Peewee looked uncertain, then shook her head. “We’re ready,” she piped.

The farther out we got on that great bare floor the more I regretted that I had not let the Mother Thing do whatever it was that kept one from worrying. At least I should have insisted that Peewee take it.

Coming at us from the other walls were two other flies; as they got closer I recognized them: the Neanderthal and the Legionary. The cave man was being dragged invisibly; the Roman covered ground in a long, slow, easy lope. We all arrived at the center at the same time and were stopped about twenty feet apart, Peewee and I at one point of a triangle, the Roman and the cave man each at another.

I called out, “Hail, Iunio!”

“Silence, barbarian.” He looked around him, his eyes estimating the crowd at the walls.

He was no longer in casual dress. The untidy leggings were gone; strapped to his right shin was armor. Over the tunic he wore full cuirass and his head was brave with plumed helmet. All metal was burnished, all leather was clean.

He had approached with his shield on his back, route-march style. But even as we were stopped he unslung it and raised it on his left arm. He did not draw his sword as his right hand held his javelin at the ready carried easily while his wary eyes assessed the foe.

To his left the cave man hunkered himself small, as an animal crouches who has no place to hide.

“Iunio!” I called out. “Listen!” The sight of those two had me still more worried. The cave man I could not talk to but perhaps I could reason with the Roman. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I know,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Today the Gods try us in their arena. This is work for a soldier and a Roman citizen. You’re no help so keep out. No-watch behind me and shout. Caesar will reward you.”

I started to try to talk sense but was cut off by a giant voice from everywhere: “YOU ARE NOW BEING JUDGED!”

Peewee shivered and got closer. I twisted my left hand out of her clutch, substituted my right, and put my left arm around her shoulders. “Head up, partner,” I said softly. “Don’t let them scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered as she trembled. “Kip? You do the talking.” “Is that the way you want it?”

“Yes. You don’t get mad as fast as I do-and if I lost my temper … well, that’d be awful.” “Okay.”

We were interrupted by that flat, nasal twang. As before, it seemed close by. “This case derives from the one preceding it. The three temporal samples are from a small Lanador-type planet around a star in an out-center part of the Third Galaxy. It is a very primitive area having no civilized races. This race, as you see from the samples, is barbaric. It has been examined twice before and would not yet be up for routine examination had not new facts about it come out in the case which preceded it.”

The voice asked itself: “When was the last examination made?”

It answered itself: “Approximately one half-death of Thorium-230 ago.” It added, apparently to us only: “About eighty thousand of your years.”

Iunio jerked his head and looked around, as if trying to locate the voice. I concluded that he had heard the same figure in his corrupt Latin. Well, I was startled too-but I was numb to that sort of shock.

“Is it necessary again so soon?”

“It is. There has been a discontinuity. They are developing with unexpected speed.” The flat voice went on, speaking to us: “I am your judge. Many of the civilized beings you see around you are part of me. Others are spectators, some are students, and a few are here because they hope to catch me in a mistake.” The voice added, “This they have not managed to do in more than a million of your years.”

I blurted out, “You are more than a million years old?” I did not add that I didn’t believe it.

The voice answered, “I am older than that, but no part of me is that old. I am partly machine, which part can be repaired, replaced, recopied; I am partly alive, these parts die and are replaced. My living parts are more than a dozen dozens of dozens of civilized beings from throughout Three Galaxies, any dozen dozens of which may join with my non-living part to act. Today I am two hundred and nine qualified beings, who have at their instant disposal all knowledge accumulated in my non-living part and all its ability to analyze and integrate.”

I said sharply, “Are your decisions made unanimously?” I thought I saw a loophole-I never had much luck mixing up Dad and Mother but there had been times as a kid when I had managed to confuse issues by getting one to answer one way and the other to answer another.

The voice added evenly, “Decisions are always unanimous. It may help you to think of me as one person.” It addressed everyone: “Standard sampling has been followed. The contemporary sample is the double one; the intermediate sample for curve check is the clothed single sample and was taken by standard random at a spacing of approximately one half-death of Radium-226-” The voice supplemented: “-call it sixteen hundred of your years. The remote curve-check sample, by standard procedure, was taken at two dozen times that distance.”

The voice asked itself: “Why is curve-check spacing so short? Why not at least a dozen times that?” “Because this organism’s generations are very short. It mutates rapidly.”

The explanation appeared to satisfy for it went on, “The youngest sample will witness first.”

I thought he meant Peewee and so did she; she cringed. But the voice barked and the cave man jerked. He did not answer; he simply crouched more deeply into himself. The voice barked again.

It then said to itself, “I observe something.” “Speak.”

“This creature is not ancestor to those others.”

The voice of the machine almost seemed to betray emotion, as if my dour grocer had found salt in his sugar bin. “The sample was properly taken.” “Nevertheless,” it answered, “it is not a correct sample. You must review all pertinent data.”

For a long five seconds was silence. Then the voice spoke: “This poor creature is not ancestor to these others; he is cousin only. He has no future of his own. Let him be returned at once to the space-time whence he came.”

The Neanderthal was dragged rapidly away. I watched him out of sight with a feeling of loss. I had been afraid of him at first. Then I had despised him and was ashamed of him. He was  a coward, be was filthy, he stank. Adog was more civilized. But in the past five minutes I had decided that I had better love him, see his good points-for, unsavory as he was, he was human. Maybe he wasn’t my remote grandfather, but I was in no mood to disown even my sorriest relation.

The voice argued with itself, deciding whether the trial could proceed. Finally it stated: “Examination will continue. If enough facts are not developed, another remote sample of correct lineage will be summoned. Iunio.”

The Roman raised his javelin higher. “Who calls Iunio?” “Stand forth and bear witness.”

Just as I feared, lunio told the voice where to go and what to do. There was no protecting Peewee from his language; it echoed back in English-not that it mattered now whether Peewee was protected from “unladylike” influences.

The flat voice went on imperturbably: “Is this your voice? Is this your witnessing?” Immediately another voice started up which I recognized as that of the Roman, answering questions, giving accounts of battle, speaking of treatment of prisoners. This we got only in English but the translation held the arrogant timbre of Iunio’s voice.

Iunio shouted “Witchcraft!” and made horns at them.

The recording cut off. “The voice matches,” the machine said dryly. “The recording will be integrated.”

But it continued to peck at lunio, asking him details about who he was, why he was in Britain, what he had done there, and why it was necessary to serve Caesar. lunio gave short answers, then blew his top and gave none. He let out a rebel yell that bounced around that mammoth room, drew back and let fly his javelin.

It fell short. But I think he broke the Olympic record. I found myself cheering.

Iunio drew his sword while the javelin was still rising. He flung it up in a gladiatorial challenge, shouting, “Hail, Caesar!” and dropped into guard. He reviled them. He told them what he thought of vermin who were not citizens, not even barbarians!

I said to myself, “Oh, oh! There goes the game. Human race, you’ve had it.”

Iunio went on and on, calling on his gods to help him, each way worse than the last, threatening them with Caesar’s vengeance in gruesome detail. I hoped that, even though it was translated, Peewee would not understand much of it. But she probably did; she understood entirely too much.

I began to grow proud of him. That wormface, in diatribe, was evil; Iunio was not. Under bad grammar, worse language, and rough manner, that tough old sergeant had courage, human dignity, and a basic gallantry. He might be an old scoundrel-but he was my kind of scoundrel.

He finished by demanding that they come at him, one at a time-or let them form a turtle and he would take them all on at once. “I’ll make a funeral pyre of you! I’ll temper my blade in your guts! I, who am about to die, will show you a Roman’s grave-piled high with Caesar’s enemies!”

He had to catch his breath. I cheered again and Peewee joined in. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Slit their throats as I bring them down, boy! There’s work to do!” The cold voice said: “Let him now be returned to the space-time whence he came.”

Iunio looked startled as invisible hands pulled him along. He called on Mars and Jove and laid about him. The sword clattered to the floor-picked itself up and returned itself to his scabbard. lunio was moving rapidly away; I cupped my hands and yelled, “Good-bye, lunio!”

“Farewell, boy! They’re cowards!” He shook himself. “Nothing but filthy witchcraft!” Then he was gone. “Clifford Russell-“

“Huh? I’m here.” Peewee squeezed my hand. “Is this your voice?”

I said, “Wait a minute-“ “Yes? Speak.”

I took a breath. Peewee pushed closer and whispered, “Make it good, Kip. They mean it.”

“I’ll try, kid,” I whispered, then went on, “What is this? I was told you intend to judge the human race.” “That is correct.”

“But you can’t. You haven’t enough to go on. No better than witchcraft, just as lunio said. You brought in a cave man-then decided he was a mistake. That isn’t your only mistake. You had lunio here. Whatever he was-and I’m not ashamed of him; I’m proud of him-he’s got nothing to do with now. He’s been dead two thousand years, pretty near-if you’ve sent him back, I mean-and all that he was is dead with him. Good or bad, he’s not what the human race is now.”

“I know that. You two are the test sample of your race now.”

“Yes-but you can’t judge from us. Peewee and I are about as far from average as any specimens can be. We don’t claim to be angels, either one of us. If you condemn our race on what we have done, you do a great injustice. Judge us-or judge me, at least-“

“Me, too!”

“-on whatever I’ve done. But don’t hold my people responsible. That’s not scientific. That’s not valid mathematics.” “It is valid.”

“It is not. Human beings aren’t molecules; they’re all different.” I decided not to argue about jurisdiction; the wormfaces had ruined that approach. “Agreed, human beings are not molecules. But they are not individuals, either.”

“Yes, they are!”

“They are not independent individuals; they are parts of a single organism. Each cell in your body contains your whole pattern. From three samples of the organism you call the human race I can predict the future potentialities and limits of that race.”

“We have no limits! There’s no telling what our future will be.”

“It may be that you have no limits,” the voice agreed. “That is to be determined. But, if true, it is not a point in your favor. For we have limits.” “Huh?”

“You have misunderstood the purpose of this examination. You speak of ‘justice.’ I know what you think you mean. But no two races have ever agreed on the meaning of that term, no matter how they say it. It is not a concept I deal with here. This is not a court of justice.”

“Then what is it?”

“You would call it a ‘Security Council.’ Or you might call it a committee of vigilantes. It does not matter what you call it; my sole purpose is to examine your race and see if you threaten our survival. If you do, I will now dispose of you. The only certain way to avert a grave danger is to remove it while it is small. Things that I have learned about you suggest a possibility that you may someday threaten the security of Three Galaxies. I will now determine the facts.”

“But you said that you have to have at least three samples. The cave man was no good.”

“We have three samples, you two and the Roman. But the facts could be determined from one sample. The use of three is a custom from earlier times, a cautious habit of checking and rechecking. I cannot dispense ‘justice’; I can make sure not to produce error.”

I was about to say that he was wrong, even if he was a million years old. But the voice went on, “I continue the examination. Clifford Russell, is this your voice?”

My voice sounded then-and again it was my own dictated account, but this time everything was left in-purple adjectives, personal opinions, comments about other matters, every word and stutter.

I listened to enough of it, held up my hand. “All right, all right, I said it.” The recording stopped. “Do you now confirm it?”

“Eh? Yes.”

“Do you wish to add, subtract, or change?”

I thought hard. Aside from a few wisecracks that I had tucked in later it was a straight-forward account. “No. I stand on it.” “And is this also your voice?”

This one fooled me. It was that endless recording I had made for Prof Joe about-well, everything on Earth … history, customs, peoples, the works. Suddenly I knew why Prof Joe had worn the same badge the Mother Thing wore. What did they call that?-“Planting a stool pigeon.” Good Old Prof Joe, the no-good, had been a stoolie.

I felt sick.

“Let me hear more of it.”

They accommodated me. I didn’t really listen; I was trying to remember, not what I was hearing, but what else I might have said-what I had admitted that could be used against the human race. The Crusades? Slavery? The gas chambers at Dachau? How much had I said?

The recording droned on. Why, that thing had taken weeks to record; we could stand here until our feet went flat. “It’s my voice.”

“Do you stand on this, too? Or do you wish to correct, revise, or extend?” I said cautiously, “Can I do the whole thing over?”

“If you so choose.”

I started to say that I would, that they should wipe the tape and start over. But would they? Or would they keep both and compare them? I had no compunction about lying-“tell the truth and shame the devil” is no virtue when your family and friends and your whole race are at stake.

But could they tell if I lied?

“The Mother Thing said to tell the truth and not to be afraid.” “But she’s not on our side!”

“Oh, yes, she is.”

I had to answer. I was so confused that I couldn’t think. I had tried to tell the truth to Prof Joe … oh, maybe I had shaded things, not included every horrid thing that makes a headline. But it was essentially true.

Could I do better under pressure? Would they let me start fresh and accept any propaganda I cooked up? Or would the fact that I changed stories be used to condemn our race?  “I stand on it!”

“Let it be integrated. Patricia Wynant Reisfeld-“

Peewee took only moments to identify and allow to be integrated her recordings; she simply followed my example.

The machine voice said: “The facts have been integrated. By their own testimony, these are a savage and brutal people, given to all manner of atrocities. They eat each other, they starve each other, they kill each other. They have no art and only the most primitive of science, yet such is their violent nature that even with so little knowledge they are now energetically using it to exterminate each other, tribe against tribe. Their driving will is such that they may succeed. But if by some unlucky chance they fail, they will inevitably, in time, reach other stars. It is this possibility which must be calculated: how soon they will reach us, if they live, and what their potentialities will be then.”

The voice continued to us: “This is the indictment against you-your own savagery, combined with superior intelligence. What have you to say in your defense?”  I took a breath and tried to steady down. I knew that we had lost-yet I had to try.

I remembered how the Mother Thing had spoken. “My lord peers-“

“Correction. We are not your ‘lords,’ nor has it been established that you are our equals. If you wish to address someone, you may call me the ‘Moderator.’”

“Yes, Mr. Moderator-” I tried to remember what Socrates had said to his judges. He knew ahead of time that he was condemned just as we knew-but somehow, though he had been forced to drink hemlock, he had won and they had lost.

No! I couldn’t use his Apologia-all he had lost was his own life. This was everybody. “-you say we have no art. Have you seen the Parthenon?”

“Blown up in one of your wars.”

“Better see it before you rotate us-or you’ll be missing something. Have you read our poetry? ‘Our revels now are ended: these our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are   melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself … itself-yea-all which it

… inherit-shall dissolve-“

I broke down. I heard Peewee sobbing beside me. I don’t know why I picked that one-but they say the subconscious mind never does things “accidentally.” I guess it had to be that one. “As it well may,” commented the merciless voice.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what we do-as long as we leave you alone-” My stammer was back and I was almost sobbing. “We have made it our business.”

“We aren’t under your government and-“

“Correction. Three Galaxies is not a government; conditions for government cannot obtain in so vast a space, such varied cultures. We have simply formed police districts for mutual protection.”

“But-even so, we haven’t troubled your cops. We were in our own backyards-I was in my own backyard!-when these wormface things came along and started troubling us. We haven’t hurt you.”

I stopped, wondering where to turn. I couldn’t guarantee good behavior, not for the whole human race-the machine knew it and I knew it.

“Inquiry.” It was talking to itself again. “These creatures appear to be identical with the Old Race, allowing for mutation. What part of the Third Galaxy are they from?”  It answered itself, naming co-ordinates that meant nothing to me. “But they are not of the Old Race; they are ephemerals. That is the danger; they change too fast.” “Didn’t the Old Race lose a ship out that way a few half-deaths of Thorium-230 ago? Could that account for the fact that the youngest sample failed to match?”

It answered firmly, “It is immaterial whether or not they may be descended from the Old Race. An examination is in progress; a decision must be made.” “The decision must be sure.”

“It will be.” The bodyless voice went on, to us: “Have either of you anything to add in your defense?”

I had been thinking of what had been said about the miserable state of our science. I wanted to point out that we had gone from muscle power to atomic power in only two centuries-but I was afraid that fact would be used against us. “Peewee, can you think of anything?”

She suddenly stepped forward and shrilled to the air, “Doesn’t it count that Kip saved the Mother Thing?” “No,” the cold voice answered. “It is irrelevant.”

“Well, it ought to count!” She was crying again. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Bullies! Cowards! Oh, you’re worse than wormfaces!”

I pulled her back. She hid her head against my shoulder and shook. Then she whispered, “I’m sorry, Kip. I didn’t mean to. I guess I’ve ruined it.” “It was ruined anyhow, honey.”

“Have you anything more to say?” old no-face went on relentlessly.

I looked around at the hall. -the cloud-capped towers … the great globe itself- “Just this!” I said savagely. “It’s not a defense, you don’t want a defense. All right, take away our star- You will if you can and I guess you can. Go ahead! We’ll make a star! Then, someday, we’ll come back and hunt you down-all of you!”

“That’s telling ‘em. Kip! That’s telling them!”

Nobody bawled me out. I suddenly felt like a kid who has made a horrible mistake at a party and doesn’t know how to cover it up. But I meant it. Oh, I didn’t think we could do it. Not yet. But we’d try. “Die trying” is the proudest human thing.

“It is possible that you will,” that infuriating voice went on. “Are you through?” “I’m through.” We all were through … every one of us.

“Does anyone speak for them? Humans, will any race speak for you?” We didn’t know any other races. Dogs- Maybe dogs would.

“I speak for them!”

Peewee raised her head with a jerk. “Mother Thing!”

Suddenly she was in front of us. Peewee tried to run to her, bounced off that invisible barrier. I grabbed her. “Easy, hon. She isn’t there-it’s some sort of television.”

“My lord peers … you have the advantage of many minds and much knowledge-” It was odd to see her singing, hear her in English; the translation still held that singing quality.

“-but I know them. It is true that they are violent-especially the smaller one-but they are not more violent than is appropriate to their ages. Can we expect mature restraint in a race whose members all must die in early childhood? And are not we ourselves violent? Have we not this day killed our billions? Can any race survive without a willingness to fight? It is true that these creatures are often more violent than is necessary or wise. But, my peers, they all are so very young. Give them time to learn.”

“That is exactly what there is to fear, that they may learn. Your race is overly sentimental; it distorts your judgment.”

“Not true! We are compassionate, we are not foolish. I myself have been the proximate cause of how many, many adverse decisions? You know; it is in your records-I prefer not to remember. And I shall be again. When a branch is diseased beyond healing, it must be pruned. We are not sentimental; we are the best watchers you have ever found, for we do it without anger. Toward evil we have no mercy. But the mistakes of a child we treat with loving forbearance.”

“Have you finished?”

“I say that this branch need not be pruned! I have finished.”

The Mother Thing’s image vanished. The voice went on, “Does any other race speak for them?”

“I do.” Where she had been now stood a large green monkey. He stared at us and shook his head, then suddenly did a somersault and finished looking at us between his legs. “I’m no friend of theirs but I am a lover of ‘justice’-in which I differ from my colleagues in this Council.” He twirled rapidly several times. “As our sister has said, this race is young. The infants of   my own noble race bite and scratch each other-some even die from it. Even I behaved so, at one time.” He jumped into the air, landed on his hands, did a flip from that position. “Yet does anyone here deny that I am civilized?” He stopped, looked at us thoughtfully while scratching. “These are brutal savages and I don’t see how anyone could ever like them-but I say: give them their chance!”

His image disappeared.

The voice said, “Have you anything to add before a decision is reached?”

I started to say: No, get it over with-when Peewee grabbed my ear and whispered. I listened, nodded, and spoke. “Mr. Moderator-if the verdict is against us-can you hold off your hangmen long enough to let us go home? We know that you can send us home in only a few minutes.”

The voice did not answer quickly. “Why do you wish this? As I have explained, you are not personally on trial. It has been arranged to let you live.” “We know. We’d rather be home, that’s all-with our people.”

Again a tiny hesitation. “It shall be done.”

“Are the facts sufficient to permit a decision?” “Yes.”

“What is the decision?”

“This race will be re-examined in a dozen half-deaths of radium. Meanwhile there is danger to it from itself. Against this mischance it will be given assistance. During the probationary period it will be watched closely by Guardian Mother-” the machine trilled the true Vegan name of the Mother Thing “-the cop on that beat, who will report at once any ominous change. In the meantime we wish this race good progress in its long journey upward.

“Let them now be returned forthwith to the space-time whence they came.”

Chapter 12

I didn’t think it was safe to make our atmosphere descent in New Jersey without filing a flight plan. Princeton is near important targets; we might be homed-on by everything up to A- missiles. The Mother Thing got that indulgent chuckle in her song: (“I fancy we can avoid that.”)

She did. She put us down in a side street, sang good-bye and was gone. It’s not illegal to be out at night in space suits, even carrying a rag dolly. But it’s unusual-cops hauled us in. They phoned Peewee’s father and in twenty minutes we were in his study, drinking cocoa and talking and eating shredded wheat.

Peewee’s mother almost had a fit. While we told our story she kept gasping, “I can’t believe it!” until Professor Reisfeld said, “Stop it, Janice. Or go to bed.” I don’t blame her. Her   daughter disappears on the Moon and is given up for dead-then miraculously reappears on Earth. But Professor Reisfeld believed us. The way the Mother Thing had “understanding” he had “acceptance.” When a fact came along, he junked theories that failed to match.

He examined Peewee’s suit, had her switch on the helmet, shined a light to turn it opaque, all with a little smile. Then he reached for the phone. “Dario must see this.” “At midnight. Curt?”

“Please, Janice. Armageddon won’t wait for office hours.” “Professor Reisfeld?”

“Yes, Kip?”

“Uh, you may want to see other things first.” “That’s possible.”

I took things from Oscar’s pockets-two beacons, one for each of us, some metal “paper” covered with equations, two “happy things,” and two silvery spheres. We had stopped on Vega Five, spending most of the time under what I suppose was hypnosis while Prof Joe and another professor thing pumped us for what we knew of human mathematics. They hadn’t been learning math from us-oh, no! They wanted the language we use in mathematics, from radicals and vectors to those weird symbols in higher physics, so that they could teach us; the results were on the metal paper. First I showed Professor Reisfeld the beacons. “The Mother Thing’s beat now includes us. She says to use these if we need her. She’ll usually be close by-a thousand light-years at most. But even if she is far away, she’ll come.”

“Oh.” He looked at mine. It was neater and smaller than the one she haywired on Pluto. “Do we dare take it apart?” “Well, it’s got a lot of power tucked in it. It might explode.”

“Yes, it might.” He handed it back, looking wistful.

A“happy thing” can’t be explained. They look like those little abstract sculptures you feel as well as look at. Mine was like obsidian but warm and not hard; Peewee’s was more like jade. The surprise comes when you touch one to your head. I had Professor Reisfeld do so and he looked awed-the Mother Thing is all around you and you feel warm and safe and understood.

He said, “She loves you. The message wasn’t for me. Excuse me.” “Oh, she loves you, too.”

“Eh?”

“She loves everything small and young and fuzzy and helpless. That’s why she’s a ‘mother thing.’ “ I didn’t realize how it sounded. But he didn’t mind. “You say she is a police officer?”

“Well, she’s more of a juvenile welfare officer-this is a slum neighborhood we’re in, backward and pretty tough. Sometimes she has to do things she doesn’t like. But she’s a good cop and somebody has to do nasty jobs. She doesn’t shirk them.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t.” “Would you like to try it again?” “Do you mind?”

“Oh, no, it doesn’t wear out.”

He did and got that warm happy look. He glanced at Peewee, asleep with her face in her cereal. “I need not have worried about my daughter, between the Mother Thing-and you.” “It was a team,” I explained. “We couldn’t have made it without Peewee. The kid’s got guts.”

“Too much, sometimes.”

“Other times you need that extra. These spheres are recorders. Do you have a tape recorder, Professor?”

“Certainly, sir.” We set it up and let a sphere talk to it. I wanted a tape because the spheres are one-shot-the molecules go random again. Then I showed him the metal paper. I had tried to read it, got maybe two inches into it, then just recognized a sign here and there. Professor Reisfeld got halfway down the first page, stopped. “I had better make those phone calls.”

At dawn a sliver of old Moon came up and I tried to judge where Tombaugh Station was. Peewee was asleep on her Daddy’s couch, wrapped in his bathrobe and clutching Madame Pompadour. He had tried to carry her to bed but she had wakened and become very, very difficult, so he put her down. Professor Reisfeld chewed an empty pipe and listened to my sphere whispering softly to his recorder. Occasionally he darted a question at me and I’d snap out of it.

Professor Giomi and Dr. Bruck were at the other end of the study, filling a blackboard, erasing and filling it again, while they argued over that metal paper. Geniuses are common at the Institute for Advanced Study but these two wouldn’t be noticed anywhere; Bruck looked like a truckdriver and Giomi like an excited Iunio. They both had that Okay-I-get-you that Professor Reisfeld had. They were excited but Dr. Bruck showed it only by a tic in his face-which Peewee’s Daddy told me was a guarantee of nervous breakdowns-not for Bruck, for other physicists.

Two mornings later we were still there. Professor Reisfeld had shaved; the others hadn’t. I napped and once I took a shower. Peewee’s Daddy listened to recordings-he was now replaying Peewee’s tape. Now and then Bruck and Giomi called him over, Giomi almost hysterical and Bruck stolid. Professor Reisfeld always asked a question or two, nodded and came back to his chair. I don’t think he could work that math-but he could soak up results and fit them with other pieces.

I wanted to go home once they were through with me but Professor Reisfeld said please stay; the Secretary General of the Federated Free Nations was coming.

I stayed. I didn’t call home because what was the use in upsetting them? I would rather have gone to New York City to meet the Secretary General, but Professor Reisfeld had invited him here-I began to realize that anybody really important would come if Professor Reisfeld asked him.

Mr. van Duivendijk was slender and tall. He shook hands and said, “I understand that you are Dr. Samuel C. Russell’s son.” “You know my father, sir?”

“I met him years ago, at the Hague.”

Dr. Bruck turned-he had barely nodded at the Secretary General. “You’re Sam Russell’s boy?” “Uh, you know him, too?”

“Of course. On the Statistical Interpretation of Imperfect Data. Brilliant.” He turned back and got more chalk on his sleeve. I hadn’t known that Dad had written such a thing, nor suspected that he knew the top man in the Federation. Sometimes I think Dad is eccentric.

Mr. van D. waited until the double domes came up for air, then said, “You have something, gentlemen?” “Yeah,” said Bruck.

“Superb!” agreed Giomi. “Such as?”

“Well-” Dr. Bruck pointed at a line of chalk. “That says you can damp out a nuclear reaction at a distance.” “What distance?”

“How about ten thousand miles? Or must you do it from the Moon?” “Oh, ten thousand miles is sufficient, I imagine.”

“You could do it from the Moon,” Giomi interrupted, “if you had enough power. Magnificent!” “It is,” agreed van Duivendijk. “Anything else?”

“What do you want?” demanded Bruck. “Egg in your suds?” “Well?”

“See that seventeenth line? It may mean anti-gravity, I ain’t promising. Or, if you rotate ninety degrees, this unstable Latin thinks it’s time travel.” “It is!”

“If he’s right, the power needed is a fair-sized star-so forget it.” Bruck stared at hen’s tracks. “Anew approach to matter conversion-possibly. How about a power pack for your vest pocket that turns out more ergs than the Brisbane reactors?”

“This can be done?”

“Ask your grandson. It won’t be soon.” Bruck scowled. “Dr. Bruck, why are you unhappy?” asked Mr. van D.

Bruck scowled harder. “Are you goin’ to make this Top Secret’? I don’t like classifying mathematics. It’s shameful.”

I batted my ears. I had explained to the Mother Thing about “classified” and I think I shocked her. I said that the FFN had to have secrets for survival, just like Three Galaxies. She couldn’t see it. Finally she had said that it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. But I had worried because while I don’t like science being “secret,” I don’t want to be reckless, either.

Mr. van D. answered, “I don’t like secrecy. But I have to put up with it.” “I knew you would say that!”

“Please. Is this a U.S. government project?” “Eh? Of course not.”

“Nor a Federation one. Very well, you’ve shown me some equations. I can’t tell you not to publish them. They’re yours.” Bruck shook his head. “Not ours.” He pointed at me. “His.”

“I see.” The Secretary General looked at me. “I am a lawyer, young man. If you wish to publish, I see no way to stop you.” “Me? It’s not mine-I was just-well, a messenger.”

“You seem to have the only claim. Do you wish this published? Perhaps with all your names?” I got the impression that he wanted it published. “Well, sure. But the third name shouldn’t be mine; it should be-” I hesitated. You can’t put a birdsong down as author. “-uh, make it ‘Dr. M. Thing.’” “Who is he?”

“She’s a Vegan. But we could pretend it’s a Chinese name.”

The Secretary General stayed on, asking questions, listening to tapes. Then he made a phone call-to the Moon. I knew it could be done, I never expected to see it. “Van Duivendijk here … yes, the Secretary General. Get the Commanding General … Jim? … This connection is terrible … Jim, you sometimes order practice maneuvers … My call is unofficial but you might check a valley-” He turned to me; I answered quickly. “-a valley just past the mountains east of Tombaugh Station. I haven’t consulted the Security Council; this is between friends. But if   you go into that valley I very strongly suggest that it be done in force, with all weapons. It may have snakes in it. The snakes will be camouflaged. Call it a hunch. Yes, the kids are fine and so is Beatrix. I’ll phone Mary and tell her I talked with you.”

The Secretary General wanted my address. I couldn’t say when I would be home because I didn’t know how I would get there-I meant to hitchhike but didn’t say so. Mr. van D.’s eyebrows went up. “I think we owe you a ride home. Eh, Professor?”

“That would not be overdoing it.”

“Russell, I heard on your tape that you plan to study engineering-with a view to space.” “Yes, sir. I mean, ‘Yes, Mr. Secretary.’ “

“Have you considered studying law? Many young engineers want to space-not many lawyers. But the Law goes everywhere. Aman skilled in space law and meta-law would be in a strong position.”

“Why not both?” suggested Peewee’s Daddy. “I deplore this modern overspecialization.” “That’s an idea,” agreed Mr. van Duivendijk. “He could then write his own terms.”

I was about to say I should stick to electronics-when suddenly I knew what I wanted to do. “Uh, I don’t think I could handle both.” “Nonsense!” Professor Reisfeld said severely.

“Yes, sir. But I want to make space suits that work better. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Mmm, that’s mechanical engineering. And many other things, I imagine. But you’ll need an M.E. degree.” Professor Reisfeld frowned. “As I recall your tape, you passed College Boards but hadn’t been accepted by a good school.” He drummed his desk. “Isn’t that silly, Mr. Secretary? The lad goes to the Magellanic Clouds but can’t go to the school he wants.”

“Well, Professor? You pull while I push?”

“Yes. But wait.” Professor Reisfeld picked up his phone. “Susie, get me the President of M.I.T. I know it’s a holiday; I don’t care if he’s in Bombay or in bed; get him. Good girl.” He put down the phone. “She’s been with the Institute five years and on the University switchboard before that. She’ll get him.”

I felt embarrassed and excited. M.I.T.-anybody would jump at the chance. But tuition alone would stun you. I tried to explain that I didn’t have the money. “I’ll work the rest of this school and

next summer-I’ll save it.”

The phone rang. “Reisfeld here. Hi, Oppie. At the class reunion you made me promise to tell you if Bruck’s tic started bothering him. Hold onto your chair; I timed it at twenty-one to the minute. That’s a record… . Slow down; you won’t send anybody, unless I get my pound of flesh. If you start your lecture on academic freedom and ‘the right to know,’ I’ll hang up and call Berkeley. I can do business there-and I know I can here, over on the campus… . Not much, just a four-year scholarship, tuition and fees… . Don’t scream at me; use your discretionary fund-or make it a wash deal in bookkeeping. You’re over twenty-one; you can do arithmetic… . Nope, no hints. Buy a pig in a poke or your radiation lab won’t be in on it. Did I say ‘radiation lab’? I meant the entire physical science department. You can flee to South America, don’t let me sway you… . What? I’m an embezzler, too. Hold it.” Professor Reisfeld said to me, “You applied for M.I.T.?”

“Yes, sir, but-“

“He’s in your application files, ‘Clifford C. Russell.’ Send the letter to his home and have the head of your team fetch my copy… . Oh, a broad team, headed by a mathematical physicist- Farley, probably; he’s got imagination. This is the biggest thing since the apple konked Sir Isaac… . Sure, I’m a blackmailer, and you are a chair warmer and a luncheon speaker. When are you returning to the academic life? … Best to Beulah. ‘Bye.”

He hung up. “That’s settled. Kip, the one thing that confuses me is why those worm-faced monsters wanted me.”

I didn’t know how to say it. He had told me only the day before that he had been correlating odd data-unidentified sightings, unexpected opposition to space travel, many things that did not fit. Such a man is likely to get answers-and be listened to. If he had a weakness, it was modesty-which he hadn’t passed on to Peewee. If I told him that invaders from outer space had grown nervous over his intellectual curiosity, he would have pooh-poohed it. So I said, “They never told us, sir. But they thought you were important enough to grab.”

Mr. van Duivendijk stood up. “Curt, I won’t waste time listening to nonsense. Russell, I’m glad your schooling is arranged. If you need me, call me.” When he was gone, I tried to thank Professor Reisfeld. “I meant to pay my way, sir. I would have earned the money before school opens again.”

“In less than three weeks? Come now. Kip.” “I mean the rest of this year and-“

“Waste a year? No.”

“But I already-” I looked past his head at green leaves in their garden. “Professor … what date is it?” “Why, Labor Day, of course.”

(“-forthwith to the space-time whence they came.”)

Professor Reisfeld flipped water in my face. “Feeling better?” “I-I guess so. We were gone for weeks.”

“Kip, you’ve been through too much to let this shake you. You can talk it over with the stratosphere twins-” He gestured at Giomi and Bruck. “-but you won’t understand it. At least I didn’t. Why not assume that a hundred and sixty-seven thousand light-years leaves room for Tennessee windage amounting to only a hair’s breadth of a fraction of one per cent? Especially when the method doesn’t properly use space-time at all?”

When I left, Mrs. Reisfeld kissed me and Peewee blubbered and had Madame Pompadour say good-bye to Oscar, who was in the back seat because the Professor was driving me to the airport.

On the way he remarked, “Peewee is fond of you.” “Uh, I hope so.”

“And you? Or am I impertinent?”

“Am I fond of Peewee? I certainly am! She saved my life four or five times.” Peewee could drive you nuts. But she was gallant and loyal and smart-and had guts. “You won a life-saving medal or two yourself.”

I thought about it. “Seems to me I fumbled everything I tried. But I had help and an awful lot of luck.” I shivered at how luck alone had kept me out of the soup-real soup.  ” ‘Luck’ is a question-begging word,” he answered. “You spoke of the ‘amazing luck’ that you were listening when my daughter called for help. That wasn’t luck.”

“Huh? I mean, ‘Sir’?”

“Why were you on that frequency? Because you were wearing a space suit. Why were you wearing it? Because you were determined to space. When a space ship called, you answered.    If that is luck, then it is luck every time a batter hits a ball. Kip, ‘good luck’ follows careful preparation; ‘bad luck’ comes from sloppiness. You convinced a court older than Man himself that you and your kind were worth saving. Was that mere chance?”

“Uh … fact is, I got mad and almost ruined things. I was tired of being shoved around.”

“The best things in history are accomplished by people who get ‘tired of being shoved around.’ ” He frowned. “I’m glad you like Peewee. She is about twenty years old intellectually and six emotionally; she usually antagonizes people. So I’m glad she has gained a friend who is smarter than she is.”

My jaw dropped. “But, Professor, Peewee is much smarter than I am. She runs me ragged.”

He glanced at me. “She’s run me ragged for years-and I’m not stupid. Don’t downgrade yourself, Kip.” “It’s the truth.”

“So? The greatest mathematical psychologist of our time, a man who always wrote his own ticket even to retiring when it suited him-very difficult, when a man is in demand-this man married his star pupil. I doubt if their offspring is less bright than my own child.”

I had to untangle this to realize that he meant me. Then I didn’t know what to Say. How many kids really know their parents? Apparently I didn’t.

He went on, “Peewee is a handful, even for me. Here’s the airport. When you return for school, please plan on visiting us. Thanksgiving, too, if you will-no doubt you’ll go home Christmas.”

“Uh, thank you, sir. I’ll be back.” “Good.”

“Uh, about Peewee-if she gets too difficult, well, you’ve got the beacon. The Mother Thing can handle her.” “Mmm, that’s a thought.”

“Peewee tries to get around her but she never does. Oh-I almost forgot. Whom may I tell? Not about Peewee. About the whole thing.” “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Sir?”

“Tell anybody anything. You won’t very often. Almost no one will believe you.”

I rode home in a courier jet-those things go fast. Professor Reisfeld had insisted on lending me ten dollars when he found out that I had only a dollar sixty-seven, so I got a haircut at the bus station and bought two tickets to Centerville to keep Oscar out of the luggage compartment; he might have been damaged. The best thing about that scholarship was that now I

needn’t ever sell him-not that I would.

Centerville looked mighty good, from elms overhead to the chuckholes under foot. The driver stopped near our house because of Oscar; he’s clumsy to carry. I went to the barn and racked Oscar, told him I’d see him later, and went in the back door.

Mother wasn’t around. Dad was in his study. He looked up from reading. “Hi, Kip.” “Hi, Dad.”

“Nice trip?”

“Uh, I didn’t go to the lake.”

“I know. Dr. Reisfeld phoned-he briefed me thoroughly.”

“Oh. It was a nice trip-on the whole.” I saw that he was holding a volume of the Britannica, open to “Magellanic Clouds.”

He followed my glance. “I’ve never seen them,” he said regretfully. “I had a chance once, but I was busy except one cloudy night.” “When was that. Dad?”

“In South America, before you were born.” “I didn’t know you had been there.”

“It was a cloak-and-daggerish government job-not one to talk about. Are they beautiful?”

“Uh, not exactly.” I got another volume, turned to “Nebulae” and found the Great Nebula of Andromeda. “Here is beauty. That’s the way we look.” Dad sighed. “It must be lovely.”

“It is. I’ll tell you all about it. I’ve got a tape, too.”

“No hurry. You’ve had quite a trip. Three hundred and thirty-three thousand light-years-is that right?” “Oh, no, just half that.”

“I meant the round trip.”

“Oh. But we didn’t come back the same way.” “Eh?”

“I don’t know how to put it, but in these ships, if you make a jump, any jump, the short way back is the long way ‘round. You go straight ahead until you’re back where you started. Well, not ‘straight’ since space is curved-but straight as can be. That returns everything to zero.”

“Acosmic great-circle?”

“That’s the idea. All the way around in a straight line.”

“Mmm-” He frowned thoughtfully. “Kip, how far is it, around the Universe? The red-shift limit?”

I hesitated. “Dad, I asked-but the answer didn’t mean anything.” (The Mother Thing had said, “How can there be ‘distance’ where there is nothing?”) “It’s not a distance; it’s more of a condition. I didn’t travel it; I just went. You don’t go through, you slide past.”

Dad looked pensive. “I should know not to ask a mathematical question in words.”

I was about to suggest that Dr. Bruck could help when Mother sang out: “Hello, my darlings!” For a split second I thought I was hearing the Mother Thing.

She kissed Dad, she kissed me. “I’m glad you’re home, dear.” “Uh-” I turned to Dad.

“She knows.”

“Yes,” Mother agreed in a warm indulgent tone, “and I don’t mind where my big boy goes as long as he comes home safely. I know you’ll go as far as you want to.” She patted my cheek. “And I’ll always be proud of you. Myself, I’ve just been down to the corner for another chop.”

Next morning was Tuesday, I went to work early. As I expected, the fountain was a mess. I put on my white jacket and got cracking. Mr. Charton was on the phone; he hung up and came over. “Nice trip. Kip?”

“Very nice, Mr. Charton.”

“Kip, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say. Are you still anxious to go to the Moon?” I was startled. Then I decided that he couldn’t know.

Well, I hadn’t seen the Moon, hardly, I was still eager-though not as much in a hurry. “Yes, sir. But I’m going to college first.” “That’s what I mean. I- Well, I have no children. If you need money, say so.”

He had hinted at pharmacy school-but never this. And only last night Dad had told me that he had bought an education policy for me the day I was born-he had been waiting to see what I would do on my own. “Gee, Mr. Charton, that’s mighty nice of you!”

“I approve of your wanting an education.”

“Uh, I’ve got things lined up, sir. But I might need a loan someday.” “Or not a loan. Let me know.” He bustled away, plainly fussed.

I worked in a warm glow, sometimes touching the happy thing, tucked away in a pocket. Last night I had let Mother and Dad put it to their foreheads. Mother had cried; Dad said solemnly,  “I begin to understand, Kip.” I decided to let Mr. Charton try it when I could work around to it. I got the fountain shining and checked the air conditioner. It was okay.

About midafternoon Ace Quiggle came in, plunked himself down. “Hi, Space Pirate! What do you hear from the Galactic Overlords? Yuk yuk yukkity yuk!” What would he have said to a straight answer? I touched the happy thing and said, “What’ll it be. Ace?”

“My usual, of course, and snap it up!” “Achoc malt?”

“You know that. Look alive. Junior! Wake up and get hep to the world around you.”

“Sure thing, Ace.” There was no use fretting about Ace; his world was as narrow as the hole between his ears, no deeper than his own hog wallow. Two girls came in; I served them   cokes while Ace’s malt was in the mixer. He leered at them. “Ladies, do you know Commander Comet here?” One of them tittered; Ace smirked and went on: “I’m his manager. You want

heroing done, see me. Commander, I’ve been thinking about that ad you’re goin’ to run.”

“Huh?”

“Keep your ears open. ‘Have Space Suit-Will Travel,’ that doesn’t say enough. To make money out of that silly clown suit, we got to have oomph. So we add: “Bug-Eyed Monsters Exterminated-World Saving a Specialty-Rates on Request.’ Right?”

I shook my head. “No, Ace.”

“S’matter with you? No head for business?”

“Let’s stick to the facts. I don’t charge for world saving and don’t do it to order; it just happens. I’m not sure I’d do it on purpose-with you in it.” Both girls tittered. Ace scowled. “Smart guy, eh? Don’t you know that the customer is always right?”

“Always?”

“He certainly is. See that you remember it. Hurry up that malt!”

“Yes, Ace.” I reached for it; he shoved thirty-five cents at me; I pushed it back. “This is on the house.” I threw it in his face.

The End

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The Door into Summer (full text) by Robert Heinlein

Here is the full text of the wonderful Robert Heinlein science fiction story titled “The door into summer”.

The novel begins in 1970 with Daniel, an engineer and inventor, in a bit of a slump. He has been scammed by his business partner, Miles Gentry, and his fiancée, Belle Darkin, so that he has lost his company, Hired Girl, Inc. Dan’s only friend in the world is his cat, Petronius the Arbiter or “Pete”, who hates going outdoors in the snow.

Left with a large financial settlement, and his remaining Hired Girl stock, he elects to take “cold sleep”, hoping to wake up thirty years later to a brighter future. First he mails his Hired Girl stock certificate to the one person he trusts, Miles’ stepdaughter Frederica “Ricky” Virginia Gentry. However when Dan confronts Miles and Belle, they inject him with an illegal “zombie” drug, and have him committed to cold sleep.

Dan wakes up in the year 2000, with no money to his name, and no idea how to find the people he once knew. He has lost Pete the cat, who fled Miles’ house after Dan was drugged, and has no idea how to find a now middle-aged Ricky.

Nevertheless, Dan begins rebuilding his life… 

In the hot Summer months, take a moment and enjoy this great science fiction read.

The Door Into Summer

ONE WINTER shortly before the Six Weeks War my tomcat, Petronius the Arbiter, and I lived in an old farmhouse in Connecticut. I doubt if it is there any longer, as it was near the edge of the blast area of the Manhattan near-miss, and those old frame buildings burn like tissue paper. Even if it is still standing it would not be a desirable rental because of the fallout, but we liked it then, Pete and I. The lack of plumbing made the rent low and what had been the dining room had a good north light for my drafting board.

The drawback was that the place had eleven doors to the outside.

Twelve, if you counted Pete’s door. I always tried to arrange a door of his own for Pete—in this case a board fitted into a window in an unused bedroom and in which I had cut a cat strainer just wide enough for Pete’s whiskers. I have spent too much of my life opening doors for cats—I once calculated that, since the dawn of civilization, nine hundred and seventy-eight man-centuries have been used up that way. I could show you figures.

Pete usually used his own door except when he could bully me into opening a people door for him, which he preferred. But he would not use his door when there was snow on the ground.

While still a kitten, all fluff and buzzes, Pete had worked out a simple philosophy. I was in charge of quarters, rations, and weather; he was in charge of everything else. But he held me especially responsible for weather. Connecticut winters are good only for Christmas cards; regularly that winter Pete would check his own door, refuse to go out it because of that unpleasant white stuff beyond it (he was no fool), then badger me to open a people door.

He had a fixed conviction that at least one of them must lead into summer weather. Each time this meant that I had to go around with him to each of eleven doors, hold it open while he satisfied himself that it was winter out that way, too, then go on to the next door, while his criticisms of my mismanagement grew more bitter with each disappointment.

Then he would stay indoors until hydraulic pressure utterly forced him outside. When he returned the ice in his pads would sound like little clogs on the wooden floor and he would glare at me and refuse to purr until he had chewed it all out…whereupon he would forgive me until the next time.

But he never gave up his search for the Door into Summer. On 3 December 1970, I was looking for it too.

My quest was about as hopeless as Pete’s had been in a Connecticut January. What little snow there was in southern California was kept on mountains for skiers, not in downtown Los Angeles—the stuff probably couldn’t have pushed through the smog anyway. But the winter weather was in my heart.

I was not in bad health (aside from a cumulative hangover), I was still on the right side of thirty by a few days, and I was far from being broke. No police were looking for me, nor any husbands, nor any process servers; there was nothing wrong that a slight case of amnesia would not have cured. But there was winter in my heart and I was looking for the door to summer.

If I sound like a man with an acute case of self-pity, you are correct. There must have been well over two billion people on this planet in worse shape than I was. Nevertheless, I was looking for the Door into Summer.

Most of the ones I had checked lately had been swinging doors, like the pair in front of me then—the SANS SOUCI Bar Grill, the sign said. I went in, picked a booth halfway back, placed the overnight bag I was carrying carefully on the seat, slid in by it, and waited for the waiter.

The overnight bag said, “Waarrrh?” I said, “Take it easy, Pete.” “Naaow!”

“Nonsense, you just went. Pipe down, the waiter is coming.”

Pete shut up. I looked up as the waiter leaned over the table, and said to him, “A double shot of your bar Scotch, a glass of plain water, and a split of ginger ale.”

The waiter looked upset. “Ginger ale, sir? With Scotch?” “Do you have it or don’t you?”

“Why, yes, of course. But—”

“Then fetch it. I’m not going to drink it; I just want to sneer at it. And bring a saucer too.”

“As you say, sir.” He polished the tabletop. “How about a small steak, sir? Or the scallops are very good today.”

“Look, mate, I’ll tip you for the scallops if you’ll promise not to serve them. All I need is what I ordered…and don’t forget the saucer.”

He shut up and went away. I told Pete again to take it easy, the Marines had landed. The waiter returned, his pride appeased by carrying the split of ginger ale on the saucer. I had him open it while I mixed the Scotch with the water. “Would you like another glass for the ginger ale, sir?”

“I’m a real buckaroo; I drink it out of the bottle.”

He shut up and let me pay him and tip him, not forgetting a tip for the scallops. When he had gone I poured ginger ale into the saucer and tapped on the top of the overnight bag. “Soup’s on, Pete.”

It was unzipped; I never zipped it with him inside. He spread it with his paws, poked his head out, looked around quickly, then levitated his forequarters and placed his front feet on the edge of the table. I raised my glass and we looked at each other. “Here’s to the female race, Pete— find ’em and forget ’em!”

He nodded; it matched his own philosophy perfectly. He bent his head daintily and started lapping up ginger ale. “If you can, that is,” I added, and took a deep swig. Pete did not answer. Forgetting a female was no effort to him; he was the natural-born bachelor type.

Facing me through the window of the bar was a sign that kept changing. First it would read: WORK WHILE YOU SLEEP. Then it would say: AND DREAM YOUR TROUBLES AWAY. Then it would flash in letters twice as big:

MUTUAL ASSURANCE COMPANY

I read all three several times without thinking about them. I knew as much and as little about suspended animation as everybody else did. I had read a popular article or so when it was first announced and two or three times a week I’d get an insurance-company ad about it in the morning mail; I usually chucked them without looking at them since they didn’t seem to apply to me any more than lipstick ads did.

In the first place, until shortly before then, I could not have paid for cold sleep; it’s expensive. In the second place, why should a man who was enjoying his work, was making money, expected to make more, was in love and about to be married, commit semi-suicide?

If a man had an incurable disease and expected to die anyhow but thought the doctors a generation later might be able to cure him—and he could afford to pay for suspended animation while medical science caught up with what was wrong with him—then cold sleep was a logical bet. Or if his ambition was to make a trip to Mars and he thought that clipping one generation out of his personal movie film would enable him to buy a

ticket, I supposed that was logical too—there had been a news story about a café- society couple who got married and went right straight from city

hall to the sleep sanctuary of Western World Insurance Company with an announcement that they had left instructions not to be called until they could spend their honeymoon on an interplanetary liner…although I had suspected that it was a publicity gag rigged by the insurance company and that they had ducked out the back door under assumed names. Spending your wedding night cold as a frozen mackerel does not have the ring of truth in it.

And there was the usual straightforward financial appeal, the one the insurance companies bore down on: “Work while you sleep.” Just hold still and let whatever you have saved grow into a fortune. If you are fifty-five and your retirement fund pays you two hundred a month, why not sleep away the years, wake up still fifty-five, and have it pay you a thousand a month? To say nothing of waking up in a bright new world which would probably promise you a much longer and healthier old age in which to enjoy the thousand a month? That one they really went to town on, each company proving with incontrovertible figures that its selection of stocks for its trust fund made more money faster than any of the others. “Work while you sleep!”

It had never appealed to me. I wasn’t fifty-five, I didn’t want to retire, and I hadn’t seen anything wrong with 1970.

Until recently, that is to say. Now I was retired whether I liked it or not (I didn’t); instead of being on my honeymoon I was sitting in a second-rate bar drinking Scotch purely for anesthesia; instead of a wife I had one much-scarred tomcat with a neurotic taste for ginger ale; and as for liking right now, I would have swapped it for a case of gin and then busted every bottle.

But I wasn’t broke.

I reached into my coat and took out an envelope, opened it. It had two items in it. One was a certified check for more money than I had ever had before at one time; the other was a stock certificate in Hired Girl, Inc. They were both getting a little mussed; I had been carrying them ever since they were handed to me.

Why not?

Why not duck out and sleep my troubles away? Pleasanter than joining the Foreign Legion, less messy than suicide, and it would divorce me completely from the events and the people who had made my life go sour. So why not?

I wasn’t terribly interested in the chance to get rich. Oh, I had read H. G. Wells’ The Sleeper Awakes, not only when the insurance companies started giving away free copies, but before that, when it was just another classic novel; I knew what compound interest and stock appreciation could do. But I was not sure that I had enough money both to buy the Long Sleep and to set up a trust large enough to be worthwhile. The other argument appealed to me more: go beddy-bye and wake up in a different world. Maybe a lot better world, the way the insurance companies would have you believe…or maybe worse. But certainly different.

I could make sure of one important difference: I could doze long enough to be certain that it was a world without Belle Darkin—or Miles Gentry, either, but Belle especially. If Belle was dead and buried I could forget her, forget what she had done to me, cancel her out…instead of gnawing my heart with the knowledge that she was only a few miles away.

Let’s see, how long would that have to be? Belle was twenty-three—or claimed to be (I recalled that once she had seemed to let slip that she remembered Roosevelt as president). Well, in her twenties anyhow. If I slept seventy years, she’d be an obituary. Make it seventy-five and be safe.

Then I remembered the strides they were making in geriatrics; they were talking about a hundred and twenty years as an attainable “normal” life span. Maybe I would have to sleep a hundred years. I wasn’t certain that any insurance company offered that much.

Then I had a gently fiendish idea, inspired by the warm glow of Scotch. It wasn’t necessary to sleep until Belle was dead; it was enough, more

than enough, and just the fitting revenge on a female to be young when she was old. Just enough younger to rub her nose in it—say about thirty years.

I felt a paw, gentle as a snowflake, on my arm. “Mooorrre!” announced Pete.

“Greedy gut,” I told him, and poured him another saucer of ginger ale. He thanked me with a polite wait, then started lapping it. But he had interrupted my pleasantly nasty chain of thought. What the devil could I do about Pete?

You can’t give away a cat the way you can a dog; they won’t stand for it. Sometimes they go with the house, but not in Pete’s case; to him I had been the one stable thing in a changing world ever since he was taken from his mother nine years earlier…I had even managed to keep him near me in the Army and that takes real wangling.

He was in good health and likely to stay that way even though he was held together with scar tissue. If he could just correct a tendency to lead with his right he would be winning battles and siring kittens for another five years at least.

I could pay to have him kept in a kennel until he died (unthinkable!) or I could have him chloroformed (equally unthinkable)—or I could abandon him. That is what it boils down to with a cat: You either carry out the Chinese obligation you have assumed—or you abandon the poor thing, let it go wild, destroy its faith in the eternal rightness.

The way Belle had destroyed mine.

So, Danny boy, you might as well forget it. Your own life may have gone as sour as dill pickles; that did not excuse you in the slightest from your obligation to carry out your contract to this super-spoiled cat.

Just as I reached that philosophical truth Pete sneezed; the bubbles had gone up his nose. “Gesundheit,” I answered, “and quit trying to drink it so fast.”

Pete ignored me. His table manners averaged better than mine and he knew it. Our waiter had been hanging around the cash register, talking with the cashier. It was the after-lunch slump and the only other customers were at the bar. The waiter looked up when I said “Gesundheit,” and spoke to the cashier. They both looked our way, then the cashier lifted the flap gate in the bar and headed toward us.

I said quietly, “MPs, Pete.”

He glanced around and ducked down into the bag; I pushed the top together. The cashier came over and leaned on my table, giving the seats on both sides of the booth a quick double-O. “Sorry, friend,” he said flatly, “but you’ll have to get that cat out of here.”

“What cat?”

“The one you were feeding out of that saucer.” “I don’t see any cat.”

This time he bent down and looked under the table. “You’ve got him in that bag,” he accused.

“Bag? Cat?” I said wonderingly. “My friend, I think you’ve come down with an acute figure of speech.” “Huh? Don’t give me any fancy language. You’ve got a cat in that bag. Open it up.”

“Do you have a search warrant?” “What? Don’t be silly.”

“You’re the one talking silly, demanding to see the inside of my bag without a search warrant. Fourth Amendment—and the war has been over for years. Now that we’ve settled that, please tell my waiter to make it the same all around—or fetch it yourself.”

He looked pained. “Brother, this isn’t anything personal, but I’ve got a license to consider. ‘No dogs, no cats’—it says so right up there on the

wall. We aim to run a sanitary establishment.”

“Then your aim is poor.” I picked up my glass. “See the lipstick marks? You ought to be checking your dishwasher, not searching your customers.”

“I don’t see no lipstick.”

“I wiped most of it off. But let’s take it down to the Board of Health and get the bacteria count checked.” He sighed. “You got a badge?”

“No.”

“Then we’re even. I don’t search your bag and you don’t take me down to the Board of Health. Now if you want another drink, step up to the bar and have it…on the house. But not here.” He turned and headed up front.

I shrugged. “We were just leaving anyhow.”

As I started to pass the cashier’s desk on my way out he looked up. “No hard feelings?” “Nope. But I was planning to bring my horse in here for a drink later. Now I won’t.”

“Suit yourself. The ordinance doesn’t say a word about horses. But just one more thing—does that cat really drink ginger ale?” “Fourth Amendment, remember?”

“I don’t want to see the animal; I just want to know.”

“Well,” I admitted, “he prefers it with a dash of bitters, but he’ll drink it straight if he has to.” “It’ll ruin his kidneys. Look here a moment, friend.”

“At what?”

“Lean back so that your head is close to where mine is. Now look up at the ceiling over each booth…the mirrors up in the decorations. I knew there was a cat there—because I saw it.”

I leaned back and looked. The ceiling of the joint had a lot of junky decoration, including many mirrors; I saw now that a number of them, camouflaged by the design, were so angled as to permit the cashier to use them as periscopes without leaving his station. “We need that,” he said apologetically. “You’d be shocked at what goes on in those booths…if we didn’t keep an eye on ’em. It’s a sad world.”

“Amen, brother.” I went on out.

Once outside, I opened the bag and carried it by one handle; Pete stuck his head out. “You heard what the man said, Pete. ‘It’s a sad world.’ Worse than sad when two friends can’t have a quiet drink together without being spied on. That settles it.”

“Now?” asked Pete.

“If you say so. If we’re going to do it, there’s no point in stalling.” “Now!” Pete answered emphatically.

“Unanimous. It’s right across the street.”

The receptionist at the Mutual Assurance Company was a fine example of the beauty of functional design. In spite of being streamlined for about Mach Four, she displayed frontal-mounted radar housings and everything else needed for her basic mission. I reminded myself that she would be Whistler’s Mother by the time I was out and told her that I wanted to see a salesman.

“Please be seated. I will see if one of our client executives is free.” Before I could sit down she added, “Our Mr. Powell will see you. This way, please.”

Our Mr. Powell occupied an office which made me think that Mutual did pretty well for itself. He shook hands moistly, sat me down, offered me a cigarette, and attempted to take my bag. I hung onto it. “Now, sir, how can we serve you?”

“I want the Long Sleep.”

His eyebrows went up and his manner became more respectful. No doubt Mutual would write you a camera floater for seven bucks, but the Long Sleep let them get their patty-paws on all of a client’s assets. “A very wise decision,” he said reverently. “I wish I were free to take it myself. But…family responsibilities, you know.” He reached out and picked up a form. “Sleep clients are usually in a hurry. Let me save you time and bother by filling this out for you…and we’ll arrange for your physical examination at once.”

“Just a moment.” “Eh?”

“One question. Are you set up to arrange cold sleep for a cat?” He looked surprised, then pained. “You’re jesting.”

I opened the top of the bag; Pete stuck his head out. “Meet my sidekick. Just answer the question, please. If the answer is ‘no,’ I want to sashay up to Central Valley Liability. Their offices are in this same building, aren’t they?”

This time he looked horrified. “Mister— Uh, I didn’t get your name?” “Dan Davis.”

“Mr. Davis, once a man enters our door he is under the benevolent protection of Mutual Assurance. I couldnt let you go to Central Valley.” “How do you plan to stop me? Judo?”

“Please!” He glanced around and looked upset. “Our company is an ethical company.” “Meaning that Central Valley is not?”

“I didn’t say that; you did. Mr. Davis, don’t let me sway you—” “You won’t.”

“—but get sample contracts from each company. Get a lawyer, better yet, get a licensed semanticist. Find out what we offer—and actually deliver

—and compare it with what Central Valley claims to offer.” He glanced around again and leaned toward me. “I shouldn’t say this—and I do hope you won’t quote me—but they don’t even use the standard actuarial tables.”

“Maybe they give the customer a break instead.”

“What? My dear Mr. Davis, we distribute every accrued benefit. Our charter requires it…while Central Valley is a stock company.”

“Maybe I should buy some of their— Look, Mr. Powell, we’re wasting time. Will Mutual accept my pal here? Or not? If not, I’ve been here too long already.”

“You mean you want to pay to have that creature preserved alive in hypothermia?”

“I mean I want both of us to take the Long Sleep. And don’t call him ‘that creature’; his name is Petronius.”

“Sorry. I’ll rephrase my question. You are prepared to pay two custodial fees to have both of you, you and, uh, Petronius committed to our sanctuary?”

“Yes. But not two standard fees. Something extra, of course, but you can stuff us both in the same coffin; you can’t honestly charge as much for

Pete as you charge for a man.”

“This is most unusual.”

“Of course it is. But we’ll dicker over the price later…or I’ll dicker with Central Valley. Right now I want to find out if you can do it.”

“Uh…” He drummed on his desktop. “Just a moment.” He picked up his phone and said, “Opal, get me Dr. Berquist.” I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, for he switched on the privacy guard. But after a while he put down the instrument and smiled as if a rich uncle had died. “Good news, sir! I had overlooked momentarily the fact that the first successful experiments were made on cats. The techniques and critical factors for cats are fully established. In fact there is a cat at the Naval Research Laboratory in Annapolis which is and has been for more than twenty years alive in hypothermia.”

“I thought NRL was wiped out when they got Washington?”

“Just the surface buildings, sir, not the deep vaults. Which is a tribute to the perfection of the technique; the animal was unattended save by automatic machinery for more than two years…yet it still lives, unchanged, unaged. As you will live, sir, for whatever period you elect to entrust yourself to Mutual.”

I thought he was going to cross himself. “Okay, okay, now let’s get on with the dicker.”

There were four factors involved: first, how to pay for our care while we were hibernating; second, how long I wanted us to sleep; third, how I wanted my money invested while I was in the freezer; and last, what happened if I conked out and never woke up.

I finally settled on the year 2000, a nice round number and only thirty years away. I was afraid that if I made it any longer I would be completely out of touch. The changes in the last thirty years (my own lifetime) had been enough to bug a man’s eyes out—two big wars and a dozen little ones, the downfall of communism, the Great Panic, the artificial satellites, the change to atomic power—why, when I was a kid they didn’t even have multimorphs.

I might find 2000 A.D. pretty confusing. But if I didn’t jump that far Belle would not have time to work up a fancy set of wrinkles.

When it came to how to invest my dough I did not consider government bonds and other conservative investments; our fiscal system has inflation built into it. I decided to hang onto my Hired Girl stock and put the cash into other common stocks, with a special eye to some trends I thought would grow. Automation was bound to get bigger. I picked a San Francisco fertilizer firm too; it had been experimenting with yeasts and edible algae— there were more people every year and steak wasn’t going to get any cheaper. The balance of the money I told him to put into the company’s managed trust fund.

But the real choice lay in what to do if I died in hibernation. The company claimed that the odds were better than seven out of ten that I would live through thirty years of cold sleep…and the company would take either end of the bet. The odds weren’t reciprocal and I didn’t expect them to be; in any honest gambling there is a breakage to the house. Only crooked gamblers claim to give the sucker the best of it, and insurance is legalized gambling. The oldest and most reputable insurance firm in the world, Lloyd’s of London, makes no bones about it—Lloyd’s associates will take either end of any bet. But don’t expect better-than-track odds; somebody has to pay for Our Mr. Powell’s tailor-made suits.

I chose to have every cent go to the company trust fund in case I died…which made Mr. Powell want to kiss me and made me wonder just how optimistic those seven-out-of-ten odds were. But I stuck with it because it made me an heir (if I lived) of everyone else with the same option (if they died), Russian roulette with the survivors picking up the chips…and with the company, as usual, raking in the house percentage.

I picked every alternative for the highest possible return and no hedging if I guessed wrong; Mr. Powell loved me, the way a croupier loves a sucker who keeps playing the zero. By the time we had settled my estate he was anxious to be reasonable about Pete; we settled for 15 percent of the human fee to pay for Pete’s hibernation and drew up a separate contract for him.

There remained consent of court and the physical examination. The physical I didn’t worry about; I had a hunch that, once I elected to have the company bet that I would die, they would accept me even in the last stages of the Black Death. But I thought that getting a judge to okay it might be lengthy. It had to be done, because a client in cold sleep was legally in chancery, alive but helpless.

I needn’t have worried. Our Mr. Powell had quadruplicate originals made of nineteen different papers. I signed till I got finger cramps, and a messenger rushed away with them while I went to my physical examination; I never even saw the judge.

The physical was the usual tiresome routine except for one thing. Toward the end the examining physician looked me sternly in the eye and said, “Son, how long have you been on this binge?”

“Binge?”

“Binge.”

“What makes you think that, Doctor? I’m as sober as you are. ‘Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled—’ ” “Knock it off and answer me.”

“Mmm…I’d say about two weeks. A little over.”

“Compulsive drinker? How many times have you pulled this stunt in the past?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I haven’t. You see—” I started to tell him what Belle and Miles had done to me, why I felt the way I did.

He shoved a palm at me. “Please. I’ve got troubles of my own and I’m not a psychiatrist. Really, all I’m interested in is finding out whether or not your heart will stand up under the ordeal of putting you down to four degrees centigrade. Which it will. And I ordinarily don’t care why anyone is nutty enough to crawl into a hole and pull it in after him; I just figure it is one less damn fool underfoot. But some residual tinge of professional conscience prevents me from letting any man, no matter how sorry a specimen, climb into one of those coffins while his brain is sodden with alcohol. Turn around.”

“Huh?”

“Turn around; I’m going to inject you in your left buttock.” I did and he did. While I was rubbing it he went on, “Now drink this. In about twenty minutes you will be more sober than you’ve been in a month. Then, if you have any sense—which I doubt—you can review your position and decide whether to run away from your troubles…or stand up to them like a man.”

I drank it.

“That’s all; you can get dressed. I’m signing your papers, but I’m warning you that I can veto it right up to the last minute. No more alcohol for you at all, a light supper and no breakfast. Be here at noon tomorrow for final check.”

He turned away and didn’t even say good-bye. I dressed and went out of there, sore as a boil. Powell had all my papers ready. When I picked them up he said, “You can leave them here if you wish and pick them up at noon tomorrow…the set that goes in the vault with you, that is.”

“What happens to the others?”

“We keep one set ourselves, then after you are committed we file one set with the court and one in the Carlsbad Archives. Uh, did the doctor caution you about diet?”

“He certainly did.” I glanced at the papers to cover my annoyance. Powell reached for them. “I’ll keep them safe overnight.”

I pulled them back. “I can keep them safe. I might want to change some of these stock selections.”

“Uh, it’s rather late for that, my dear Mr. Davis.”

“Don’t rush me. If I do make any changes I’ll come in early.” I opened the overnight bag and stuck the papers down in a side flap beside Pete. I had kept valuable papers there before; while it might not be as safe as the public archives in the Carlsbad Caverns, they were safer than you might think. A sneak thief had tried to take something out of that flap on another occasion; he must still have the scars of Pete’s teeth and claws.

II

MY CAR WAS parked under Pershing Square where I had left it earlier in the day. I dropped money into the parking attendant, set the bug on arterial-west, got Pete out and put him on the seat, and relaxed.

Or tried to relax. Los Angeles traffic was too fast and too slashingly murderous for me to be really happy under automatic control; I wanted to redesign their whole installation—it was not a really modern “fail safe.” By the time we were west of Western Avenue and could go back on manual control I was edgy and wanted a drink. “There’s an oasis, Pete.”

“Blurrrt?” “Right ahead.”

But while I was looking for a place to park—Los Angeles was safe from invasion; the invaders wouldn’t find a place to park—I recalled the doctor’s order not to touch alcohol.

So I told him emphatically what he could do with his orders.

Then I wondered if he could tell, almost a day later, whether or not I had taken a drink. I seemed to recall some technical article, but it had not been in my line and I had just skimmed it.

Damnation, he was quite capable of refusing to let me cold-sleep. I’d better play it cagey and lay off the stuff. “Now?” inquired Pete.

1  

“Later. We’re going to find a drive-in instead.” I suddenly realized that I didn’t really want a drink; I wanted food and a night’s sleep. Doc was correct; I was more sober and felt better than I had in weeks. Maybe that shot in the fanny had been nothing but B ; if so, it was jet-propelled. So we

found a drive-in restaurant. I ordered chicken in the rough for me and a half pound of hamburger and some milk for Pete and took him out for a short walk while it was coming. Pete and I ate in drive-ins a lot because I didn’t have to sneak him in and out.

A half hour later I let the car drift back out of the busy circle, stopped it, lit a cigarette, scratched Pete under the chin, and thought.

Dan, my boy, the doc was right; you’ve been trying to dive down the neck of a bottle. That’s okay for your pointy head but it’s too narrow for your shoulders. Now you’re cold sober, you’ve got your belly crammed with food and it’s resting comfortably for the first time in days. You feel better.

What else? Was the doc right about the rest of it? Are you a spoiled infant? Do you lack the guts to stand up to a setback? Why are you taking this step? Is it the spirit of adventure? Or are you simply hiding from yourself, like a Section Eight trying to crawl back into his mother’s womb?

But I do want to do it, I told myself—the year 2000. Boy!

Okay, so you want to. But do you have to run off without settling the beefs you have right here?

All right, all right!—but howcan I settle them? I don’t want Belle back, not after what she’s done. And what else can I do? Sue them? Don’t be silly, I’ve got no evidence—and anyhow, nobody ever wins a lawsuit but the lawyers.

Pete said, “Wellll? Y’know!”

I looked down at his waffle-scarred head. Pete wouldn’t sue anybody; if he didn’t like the cut of another cat’s whiskers, he simply invited him to come out and fight like a cat. “I believe you’re right, Pete. I’m going to look up Miles, tear his arm off, and beat him over the head with it until he talks. We can take the Long Sleep afterward. But we’ve got to know just what it was they did to us and who rigged it.”

There was a phone booth back of the stand. I called Miles, found him at home, and told him to stay there; I’d be out.

MY OLD MAN named me Daniel Boone Davis, which was his way of declaring for personal liberty and self-reliance. I was born in 1940, a year when everybody was saying that the individual was on the skids and the future belonged to mass man. Dad refused to believe it; naming me was a note of defiance. He died under brainwashing in North Korea, trying to the last to prove his thesis.

When the Six Weeks War came along I had a degree in mechanical engineering and was in the Army. I had not used my degree to try for a commission because the one thing Dad had left me was an overpowering yen to be on my own, giving no orders, taking no orders, keeping no schedules—I simply wanted to serve my hitch and get out. When the Cold War boiled over, I was a sergeant-technician at Sandia Weapons Center in New Mexico, stuffing atoms in atom bombs and planning what I would do when my time was up. The day Sandia disappeared I was down in Dallas drawing a fresh supply of Schrecklichkeit. The fallout on that was toward Oklahoma City, so I lived to draw my GI benefits.

Pete lived through it for a similar reason. I had a buddy, Miles Gentry, a veteran called back to duty. He had married a widow with one daughter, but his wife had died about the time he was called back. He lived off post with a family in Albuquerque so as to have a home for his stepchild Frederica. Little Ricky (we never called her “Frederica”) took care of Pete for me. Thanks to the cat-goddess Bubastis, Miles and Ricky and Pete were away on a seventy-two that awful weekend—Ricky took Pete with them because I could not take him to Dallas.

I was as surprised as anyone when it turned out we had divisions stashed away at Thule and other places that no one suspected. It had been known since the ’30s that the human body could be chilled until it slowed down to almost nothing. But it had been a laboratory trick, or a last-resort therapy, until the Six Weeks War. I’ll say this for military research: If money and men can do it, it gets results. Print another billion, hire another thousand scientists and engineers, then in some incredible, left-handed, inefficient fashion the answers come up. Stasis, cold sleep, hibernation, hypothermia, reduced metabolism, call it what you will—the logistics-medicine research teams had found a way to stack people like cordwood and use them when needed. First you drug the subject, then hypnotize him, then cool him down and hold him precisely at four degrees centigrade; that is to say, at the maximum density of water with no ice crystals. If you need him in a hurry he can be brought up by diathermy and posthypnotic command in ten minutes (they did it in seven at Nome), but such speed tends to age the tissues and may make him a little stupid from then on. If you aren’t in a hurry two hours minimum is better. The quick method is what professional soldiers call a “calculated risk.”

The whole thing was a risk the enemy had not calculated, so when the war was over I was paid off instead of being liquidated or sent to a slave camp, and Miles and I went into business together about the time the insurance companies started selling cold sleep.

We went to the Mojave Desert, set up a small factory in an Air Force surplus building, and started making Hired Girl, my engineering and Miles’ law and business experience. Yes, I invented Hired Girl and all her kinfolk—Window Willie and the rest—even though you won’t find my name on them. While I was in the service I had thought hard about what one engineer can do. Go to work for Standard, or du Pont, or General Motors? Thirty years later they give you a testimonial dinner and a pension. You haven’t missed any meals, you’ve had a lot of rides in company airplanes. But you are never your own boss. The other big market for engineers is civil service—good starting pay, good pensions, no worries, thirty days’ annual leave, liberal benefits. But I had just had a long government vacation and wanted to be my own boss.

What was there small enough for one engineer and not requiring six million man-hours before the first model was on the market? Bicycle-shop engineering with peanuts for capital, the way Ford and the Wright brothers had started—people said those days were gone forever; I didn’t believe it.

Automation was booming—chemical-engineering plants that required only two gauge-watchers and a guard, machines that printed tickets in one

city and marked the space “sold” in six other cities, steel moles that mined coal while the UMW boys sat back and watched. So while I was on Uncle Sam’s payroll I soaked up all the electronics, linkages, and cybernetics that a “Q” clearance would permit.

What was the last thing to go automatic? Answer: any housewife’s house. I didn’t attempt to figure out a sensible scientific house; women didn’t want one; they simply wanted a better-upholstered cave. But housewives were still complaining about the Servant Problem long after servants had

gone the way of the mastodon. I had rarely met a housewife who did not have a touch of slaveholder in her; they seemed to think there really ought to be strapping peasant girls grateful for a chance to scrub floors fourteen hours a day and eat table scraps at wages a plumber’s helper would scorn.

That’s why we called the monster Hired Girl—it brought back thoughts of the semi-slave immigrant girl whom Grandma used to bully. Basically it was just a better vacuum cleaner and we planned to market it at a price competitive with ordinary suck brooms.

What Hired Girl would do (the first model, not the semi-intelligent robot I developed it into) was to clean floors…any floor, all day long and without supervision. And there never was a floor that didn’t need cleaning.

It swept, or mopped, or vacuum-cleaned, or polished, consulting tapes in its idiot memory to decide which. Anything larger than a BB shot it picked up and placed in a tray on its upper surface, for someone brighter to decide whether to keep or throw away. It went quietly looking for dirt all day long, in search curves that could miss nothing, passing over clean floors in its endless search for dirty floors. It would get out of a room with people in it, like a well-trained maid, unless its mistress caught up with it and flipped a switch to tell the poor thing it was welcome. Around dinnertime it would go to its stall and soak up a quick charge—this was before we installed the everlasting power pack.

There was not too much difference between Hired Girl, Mark One, and a vacuum cleaner. But the difference—that it would clean without supervision—was enough; it sold.

I swiped the basic prowl pattern from the “Electric Turtles” that were written up in Scientific American in the late forties, lifted a memory circuit out of the brain of a guided missile (that’s the nice thing about top-secret gimmicks; they don’t get patented), and I took the cleaning devices and linkages out of a dozen things, including a floor polisher used in army hospitals, a soft-drink dispenser, and those “hands” they use in atomics plants to handle anything “hot.” There wasn’t anything really new in it; it was just the way I put it together. The “spark of genius” required by our laws lay in getting a good patent lawyer.

The real genius was in the production engineering; the whole thing could be built with standard parts ordered out of Sweet’s Catalogue, with the exception of two three-dimensional cams and one printed circuit. The circuit we subcontracted; the cams I made myself in the shed we called our “factory,” using war-surplus automated tools. At first Miles and I were the whole assembly line—bash to fit, file to hide, paint to cover. The pilot model cost $4,317.09; the first hundred cost just over $39 each—and we passed them on to a Los Angeles discount house at $60 and they sold them for $85. We had to let them go on consignment to unload them at all, since we could not afford sales promotion, and we darn near starved before receipts started coming in. Then Life ran a two-page on Hired Girl…and it was a case of having enough help to assemble the monster.

Belle Darkin joined us soon after that. Miles and I had been pecking out letters on a 1908 Underwood; we hired her as a typewriter jockey and bookkeeper and rented an electric machine with executive typeface and carbon ribbon and I designed a letterhead. We were plowing it all back into the business and Pete and I were sleeping in the shop while Miles and Ricky had a nearby shack. We incorporated in self-defense. It takes three to incorporate; we gave Belle a share of stock and designated her secretary-treasurer. Miles was president and general manager; I was chief engineer and chairman of the board…with 51 percent of the stock.

I want to make clear why I kept control. I wasn’t a hog; I simply wanted to be my own boss. Miles worked like a trouper, I give him credit. But better than 60 percent of the savings that got us started were mine and 100 percent of the inventiveness and engineering were mine. Miles could not possibly have built Hired Girl, whereas I could have built it with any of a dozen partners, or possibly without one—although I might have flopped in trying to make money out of it; Miles was a businessman while I am not.

But I wanted to be certain that I retained control of the shop—and I granted Miles equal freedom in the business end…too much freedom, it turned out.

Hired Girl, Mark One, was selling like beer at a ball game and I was kept busy for a while improving it and setting up a real assembly line and putting a shop master in charge, then I happily turned to thinking up more household gadgets. Amazingly little real thought had been given to housework, even though it is at least 50 percent of all work in the world. The women’s magazines talked about “labor saving in the home” and “functional kitchens,” but it was just prattle; their pretty pictures showed living-working arrangements essentially no better than those in Shakespeare’s day; the horse-to-jet-plane revolution had not reached the home.

I stuck to my conviction that housewives were reactionaries. No “machines for living”—just gadgets to replace the extinct domestic servant, that is, for cleaning and cooking and baby tending.

I got to thinking about dirty windows and that ring around the bathtub that is so hard to scrub, as you have to bend double to get at it. It turned out

that an electrostatic device could make dirt go spung! off any polished silica surface, window glass, bathtubs, toilet bowls—anything of that sort. That was Window Willie and it’s a wonder that somebody hadn’t thought of him sooner. I held him back until I had him down to a price that people could not refuse. Do you know what window washing used to cost by the hour?

I held Willie out of production much longer than suited Miles. He wanted to sell it as soon as it was cheap enough, but I insisted on one more thing: Willie had to be easy to repair. The great shortcoming of most household gadgets was that the better they were and the more they did, the more certain they were to get out of order when you needed them most—and then require an expert at five dollars an hour to make them move again. Then the same thing will happen the following week, if not to the dishwasher, then to the air conditioner…usually late Saturday night during a snowstorm.

I wanted my gadgets to work and keep on working and not to cause ulcers in their owners.

But gadgets do get out of order, even mine. Until that great day when all gadgets are designed with no moving parts, machinery will continue to go sour. If you stuff a house with gadgets some of them will always be out of order.

But military research does get results and the military had licked this problem years earlier. You simply can’t lose a battle, lose thousands or millions of lives, maybe the war itself, just because some gadget the size of your thumb breaks down. For military purposes they used a lot of dodges—“fail safe,” stand-by circuits, “tell me three times,” and so forth. But one they used that made sense for household equipment was the plug- in component principle.

It is a moronically simple idea: don’t repair, replace. I wanted to make every part of Window Willie which could go wrong a plug-in unit, then include a set of replacements with each Willie. Some components would be thrown away, some would be sent out for repair, but Willie himself would never break down longer than necessary to plug in the replacement part.

Miles and I had our first row. I said the decision as to when to go from pilot model to production was an engineering one; he claimed that it was a business decision. If I hadn’t retained control Willie would have gone on the market just as maddeningly subject to acute appendicitis as all other

sickly, half-engineered “labor-saving” gadgets.

Belle Darkin smoothed over the row. If she had turned on the pressure I might have let Miles start selling Willie before I thought it was ready, for I was as goofed up about Belle as is possible for a man to be.

Belle was not only a perfect secretary and office manager, she also had personal specs which would have delighted Praxiteles and a fragrance which affected me the way catnip does Pete. With top-notch office girls as scarce as they were, when one of the best turns out to be willing to work for a shoestring company at a below-standard salary, one really ought to ask “why?”—but we didn’t even ask where she had worked last, so happy were we to have her dig us out of the flood of paperwork that marketing Hired Girl had caused.

Later on I would have indignantly rejected any suggestion that we should have checked on Belle, for by then her bust measurement had seriously warped my judgment. She let me explain how lonely my life had been until she came along and she answered gently that she would have to know me better but that she was inclined to feel the same way.

Shortly after she smoothed out the quarrel between Miles and myself she agreed to share my fortunes. “Dan darling, you have it in you to be a great man…and I have hopes that I am the sort of woman who can help you.”

“You certainly are!”

“Shush, darling. But I am not going to marry you right now and burden you with kids and worry you to death. I’m going to work with you and build up the business first. Then we’ll get married.”

I objected, but she was firm. “No, darling. We are going a long way, you and I. Hired Girl will be as great a name as General Electric. But when we marry I want to forget business and just devote myself to making you happy. But first I must devote myself to your welfare and your future. Trust me, dear.”

So I did. She wouldn’t let me buy her the expensive engagement ring I wanted to buy; instead I signed over to her some of my stock as a betrothal present. I went on voting it, of course. Thinking back, I’m not sure who thought of that present.

I worked harder than ever after that, thinking about wastebaskets that would empty themselves and a linkage to put dishes away after the dishwasher was through. Everybody was happy…everybody but Pete and Ricky, that is. Pete ignored Belle, as he did anything he disapproved of but could not change, but Ricky was really unhappy.

My fault. Ricky had been “my girl” since she was a six-year-old at Sandia, with hair ribbons and big solemn dark eyes. I was “going to marry her” when she grew up and we would both take care of Pete. I thought it was a game we were playing, and perhaps it was, with little Ricky serious only to the extent that it offered her eventual full custody of our cat. But how can you tell what goes on in a child’s mind?

I am not sentimental about kids. Little monsters, most of them, who don’t civilize until they are grown and sometimes not then. But little Frederica reminded me of my own sister at that age, and besides, she liked Pete and treated him properly. I think she liked me because I never talked down (I had resented that myself as a child) and took her Brownie activities seriously. Ricky was okay; she had quiet dignity and was not a banger, not a squealer, not a lap climber. We were friends, sharing the responsibility for Pete, and, so far as I knew, her being “my girl” was just a sophisticated game we were playing.

I quit playing it after my sister and mother got it the day they bombed us. No conscious decision—I just didn’t feel like joking and never went back to it. Ricky was seven then; she was ten by the time Belle joined us and possibly eleven when Belle and I became engaged. She hated Belle with an intensity that I think only I was aware of, since it was expressed only by reluctance to talk to her—Belle called it “shyness” and I think Miles thought it was too.

But I knew better and tried to talk Ricky out of it. Did you ever try to discuss with a subadolescent something the child does not want to talk about? You’ll get more satisfaction shouting in Echo Canyon. I told myself it would wear off as Ricky learned how very lovable Belle was.

Pete was another matter, and if I had not been in love I would have seen it as a clear sign that Belle and I would never understand each other. Belle “liked” my cat—oh, sure, sure! She adored cats and she loved my incipient bald spot and admired my choice in restaurants and she liked everything about me.

But liking cats is hard to fake to a cat person. There are cat people and there are others, more than a majority probably, who “cannot abide a harmless, necessary cat.” If they try to pretend, out of politeness or any reason, it shows, because they don’t understand how to treat cats—and cat protocol is more rigid than that of diplomacy.

It is based on self-respect and mutual respect and it has the same flavor as the dignidad de hombre of Latin America which you may offend only at risk to your life.

Cats have no sense of humor, they have terribly inflated egos, and they are very touchy. If somebody asked me why it was worth anyone’s time to cater to them I would be forced to answer that there is no logical reason. I would rather explain to someone who detests sharp cheeses why he “ought to like” Limburger. Nevertheless, I fully sympathize with the mandarin who cut off a priceless embroidered sleeve because a kitten was sleeping on it.

Belle tried to show that she “liked” Pete by treating him like a dog… so she got scratched. Then, being a sensible cat, he got out in a hurry and stayed out a long time—which was well, as I would have smacked him, and Pete has never been smacked, not by me. Hitting a cat is worse than useless; a cat can be disciplined only by patience, never by blows.

So I put iodine on Belle’s scratches, then tried to explain what she had done wrong. “I’m sorry it happened—I’m terribly sorry! But it will happen again if you do that again.”

“But I was just petting him!”

“Uh, yes…but you weren’t cat-petting him; you were dog-petting him. You must never pat a cat, you stroke it. You must never make sudden movements in range of its claws. You must never touch it without giving it a chance to see that you are about to…and you must always watch to see that it likes it. If it doesn’t want to be petted, it will put up with a little out of politeness—cats are very polite—but you can tell if it is merely enduring it and stop before its patience is exhausted.” I hesitated. “You don’t like cats, do you?”

“What? Why, how silly! Of course I like cats.” But she added, “I haven’t been around them much, I suppose. She’s pretty touchy, isn’t she?”

“ ‘He.’ Pete is a he-male cat. No, actually he’s not touchy, since he’s always been well treated. But you do have to learn how to behave with cats. Uh, you must never laugh at them.”

“What? Forevermore, why?

“Not because they aren’t funny; they’re extremely comical. But they have no sense of humor and it offends them. Oh, a cat won’t scratch you for

laughing; he’ll simply stalk off and you’ll have trouble making friends with him. But it’s not too important. Knowing how to pick up a cat is much more important. When Pete comes back in I’ll show you how.”

But Pete didn’t come back in, not then, and I never showed her. Belle didn’t touch him after that. She spoke to him and acted as if she liked him, but she kept her distance and he kept his. I put it out of my mind; I couldn’t let so trivial a thing make me doubt the woman who was more to me than anything in life.

But the subject of Pete almost reached a crisis later. Belle and I were discussing where we were going to live. She still wouldn’t set the date, but

we spent a lot of time on such details. I wanted a ranchette near the plant; she favored a flat in town until we could afford a Bel-Air estate. I said, “Darling, it’s not practical; I’ve got to be near the plant. Besides, did you ever try to take care of a tomcat in a city apartment?”

“Oh, that! Look, darling, I’m glad you mentioned it. I’ve been studying up on cats, I really have. We’ll have him altered. Then he’ll be much gentler and perfectly happy in a flat.”

I stared at her, unable to believe my ears. Make a eunuch of that old warrior? Change him into a fireside decoration? “Belle, you don’t know what you’re saying!”

She tut-tutted me with the old familiar “Mother knows best,” giving the stock arguments of people who mistake cats for property…how it wouldn’t hurt him, that it was really for his own good, how she knew how much I valued him and she would never think of depriving me of him, how it was really very simple and quite safe and better for everybody.

I cut in on her. “Why don’t you arrange it for both of us?” “What, dear?”

“Me, too. I’d be much more docile and I’d stay home nights and I’d never argue with you. As you pointed out, it doesn’t hurt and I’d probably be a lot happier.”

She turned red. “You’re being preposterous.” “So are you!”

She never mentioned it again. Belle never let a difference of opinion degenerate into a row; she shut up and bided her time. But she never gave up, either. In some ways she had a lot of cat in her…which may have been why I couldn’t resist her.

I was glad to drop the matter. I was up to here in Flexible Frank. Willie and Hired Girl were bound to make us lots of money, but I had a bee in my bonnet about the perfect, all-work household automaton, the general-purpose servant. All right, call it a robot, though that is a much- abused word and I had no notion of building a mechanical man.

I wanted a gadget which could do anything inside the home—cleaning and cooking, of course, but also really hard jobs, like changing a baby’s diaper or replacing a typewriter ribbon. Instead of a stable of Hired Girls and Window Willies and Nursemaid Nans and Houseboy Harrys and Gardener Guses I wanted a man and wife to be able to buy one machine for, oh, say about the price of a good automobile, which would be the equal of the Chinese servant you read about but no one in my generation had ever seen.

If I could do that it would be the Second Emancipation Proclamation, freeing women from their age-old slavery. I wanted to abolish the old saw about how “women’s work is never done.” Housekeeping is repetitious and unnecessary drudgery; as an engineer it offended me.

For the problem to be within the scope of one engineer, almost all of Flexible Frank had to be standard parts and must not involve any new principles. Basic research is no job for one man alone; this had to be development from former art or I couldn’t do it.

Fortunately there was an awful lot of former art in engineering and I had not wasted my time while under a “Q” clearance. What I wanted wasn’t as complicated as the things a guided missile was required to do.

Just what did I want Flexible Frank to do? Answer: any work a human being does around a house. He didn’t have to play cards, make love, eat, or sleep, but he did have to clean up after the card game, cook, make beds, and tend babies—at least he had to keep track of a baby’s breathing and call someone if it changed. I decided he did not have to answer telephone calls, as AT&T was already renting a gadget for that. There was no need for him to answer the door either, as most new houses were being equipped with door answerers.

But to do the multitude of things I wanted him to do, he had to have hands, eyes, ears, and a brain…a good enough brain.

Hands I could order from the atomics-engineering equipment companies who supplied Hired Girl’s hands, only this time I would want the best, with wide-range servos and with the delicate feedback required for microanalysis manipulations and for weighing radioactive isotopes. The same companies could supply eyes—only they could be simpler, since Frank would not have to see and manipulate from behind yards of concrete shielding the way they do in a reactor plant.

The ears I could buy from any of a dozen radio-TV houses—though I might have to do some circuit designing to have his hands controlled simultaneously by sight, sound, and touch feedback the way the human hand is controlled.

But you can do an awful lot in a small space with transistors and printed circuits.

Frank wouldn’t have to use stepladders. I would make his neck stretch like an ostrich and his arms extend like lazy tongs. Should I make him able to go up and down stairs?

Well, there was a powered wheelchair that could. Maybe I should buy one and use it for the chassis, limiting the pilot model to a space no bigger than a wheelchair and no heavier than such a chair could carry— that would give me a set of parameters. I’d tie its power and steering into Frank’s brain.

The brain was the real hitch. You can build a gadget linked like a man’s skeleton or even much better. You can give it a feedback-control system good enough to drive nails, scrub floors, crack eggs—or not crack eggs. But unless it has that stuff between the ears that a man has, it is not a man, it’s not even a corpse.

Fortunately I didn’t need a human brain; I just wanted a docile moron, capable of largely repetitive household jobs.

Here is where the Thorsen memory tubes came in. The intercontinental missiles we had struck back with “thought” with Thorsen tubes, and traffic- control systems in places like Los Angeles used an idiot form of them. No need to go into theory of an electronic tube that even Bell Labs doesn’t understand too well, the point is that you can hook a Thorsen tube into a control circuit, direct the machine through an operation by manual control,

and the tube will “remember” what was done and can direct the operation without a human supervisor a second time, or any number of times. For an automated machine tool this is enough; for guided missiles and for Flexible Frank you add side circuits that give the machine “judgment.” Actually it isn’t judgment (in my opinion a machine can never have judgment); the side circuit is a hunting circuit, the pro- gramming of which says “look for so-and-so within such-and-such limits; when you find it, carry out your basic instruction.” The basic instruction can be as complicated as you can crowd into one Thorsen memory tube—which is a very wide limit indeed!—and you can program so that your “judgment” circuits (moronic back-seat drivers, they are) can interrupt the basic instructions anytime the cycle does not match that originally impressed into the Thorsen tube.

This meant that you need cause Flexible Frank to clear the table and scrape the dishes and load them into the dishwasher only once, and from then on he could cope with any dirty dishes he ever encountered. Better still, he could have an electronically duplicated Thorsen tube stuck into his head and could handle dirty dishes the first time he ever encountered them…and never break a dish.

Stick another “memorized” tube alongside the first one and he could change a wet baby first time, and never, never, never stick a pin in the baby. Frank’s square head could easily hold a hundred Thorsen tubes, each with an electronic “memory” of a different household task. Then throw a guard circuit around all the “judgment” circuits, a circuit which required him to hold still and squawl for help if he ran into something not covered by

his instructions—that way you wouldn’t use up babies or dishes.

So I did build Frank on the framework of a powered wheelchair. He looked like a hat rack making love to an octopus…but, boy, how he could

polish silverware!

MILES LOOKED OVER the first Frank, watched him mix a martini and serve it, then go around emptying and polishing ashtrays (never touching ones that were clean), open a window and fasten it open, then go to my bookcase and dust and tidy the books in it. Miles took a sip of his martini and said, “Too much vermouth.”

“It’s the way I like them. But we can tell him to fix yours one way and mine another; he’s got plenty of blank tubes in him. Flexible.” Miles took another sip. “How soon can he be engineered for production?”

“Uh, I’d like to fiddle with him for about ten years.” Before he could groan I added, “But we ought to be able to put a limited model into production in five.”

“Nonsense! We’ll get you plenty of help and have a Model-T job ready in six months.”

“The devil you will. This is my magnum opus. I’m not going to turn him loose until he is a work of art…about a third that size, everything plug-in replaceable but the Thorsens, and so all-out flexible that he’ll not only wind the cat and wash the baby, he’ll even play ping-pong if the buyer wants to pay for the extra programming.” I looked at him; Frank was quietly dusting my desk and putting every paper back exactly where he found it. “But ping-pong with him wouldn’t be much fun; he’d never miss. No, I suppose we could teach him to miss with a random-choice circuit. Mmm…yes, we could. We will, it would make a nice selling demonstration.”

“One year, Dan, and not a day over. I’m going to hire somebody away from Loewy to help you with the styling.”

I said, “Miles, when are you going to learn that I boss the engineering? Once I turn him over to you, he’s yours…but not a split second before.” Miles answered, “It’s still too much vermouth.”

I PIDDLED ALONG with the help of the shop mechanics until I had Frank looking less like a three-car crash and more like something you might want to brag about to the neighbors. In the meantime I smoothed a lot of bugs out of his control system. I even taught him to stroke Pete and scratch him under his chin in such a fashion that Pete liked it—and, believe me, that takes negative feedback as exact as anything used in atomics labs. Miles didn’t crowd me, although he came in from time to time and watched the progress. I did most of my work at night, coming back after dinner with Belle and taking her home. Then I would sleep most of the day, arrive late in the afternoon, sign whatever papers Belle had for me, see what the shop had done during the day, then take Belle out to dinner again. I didn’t try to do much before then, because creative work makes a man stink like a goat. After a hard night in the lab shop nobody could stand me but Pete.

Just as we were finishing dinner one day Belle said to me, “Going back to the shop, dear?” “Sure. Why not?”

“Good. Because Miles is going to meet us there.” “Huh?”

“He wants a stockholders’ meeting.” “A stockholders’ meeting? Why?”

“It won’t take long. Actually, dear, you haven’t been paying much attention to the firm’s business lately. Miles wants to gather up loose ends and settle some policies.”

“I’ve been sticking close to the engineering. What else am I supposed to do for the firm?” “Nothing, dear. Miles says it won’t take long.”

“What’s the trouble? Can’t Jake handle the assembly line?” “Please, dear. Miles didn’t tell me why. Finish your coffee.”

Miles was waiting for us at the plant and shook hands as solemnly as if we had not met in a month. I said, “Miles, what’s this all about?”

He turned to Belle. “Get the agenda, will you?” This alone should have told me that Belle had been lying when she claimed that Miles had not told her what he had in mind. But I did not think of it—hell, I trusted Belle!—and my attention was distracted by something else, for Belle went to the safe, spun the knob, and opened it.

I said, “By the way, dear, I tried to open that last night and couldn’t. Have you changed the combination?”

She was hauling papers out and did not turn. “Didn’t I tell you? The patrol asked me to change it after that burglar scare last week.” “Oh. You’d better give me the new numbers or some night I’ll have to phone one of you at a ghastly hour.”

“Certainly.” She closed the safe and put a folder on the table we used for conferences. Miles cleared his throat and said, “Let’s get started.”

I answered, “Okay. Darling, if this is a formal meeting, I guess you had better make pothooks…Uh, Wednesday, November eighteenth, 1970, 9:20 P.M., all stockholders present—put our names down—D. B. Davis, chairman of the board and presiding. Any old business?”

There wasn’t any. “Okay, Miles, it’s your show. Any new business?”

Miles cleared his throat. “I want to review the firm’s policies, present a program for the future, and have the board consider a financing proposal.” “Financing? Don’t be silly. We’re in the black and doing better every month. What’s the matter, Miles? Dissatisfied with your drawing account?

We could boost it.”

“We wouldn’t stay in the black under the new program. We need a broader capital structure.” “What new program?”

“Please, Dan. I’ve gone to the trouble of writing it up in detail. Let Belle read it to us.” “Well…okay.”

Skipping the gobbledygook—like all lawyers, Miles was fond of polysyllables—Miles wanted to do three things: (a) take Flexible Frank away from me, hand it over to a production-engineering team, and get it on the market without delay; (b)—but I stopped it at that point. “No!”

“Wait a minute, Dan. As president and general manager, I’m certainly entitled to present my ideas in an orderly manner. Save your comments. Let Belle finish reading.”

“Well…all right. But the answer is still ‘no.’ ”

Point (b) was in effect that we should quit frittering around as a one-horse outfit. We had a big thing, as big as the automobile had been, and we were in at the start; therefore we should at once expand and set up organization for nationwide and worldwide selling and distribution, with production to match.

I started drumming on the table. I could just see myself as chief engineer of an outfit like that. They probably wouldn’t even let me have a drafting table and if I picked up a soldering gun, the union would pull a strike. I might as well have stayed in the Army and tried to make general.

But I didn’t interrupt. Point (c) was that we couldn’t do this on pennies; it would take millions. Mannix Enterprises would put up the dough—what it

amounted to was that we would sell out to Mannix, lock, stock, and Flexible Frank, and become a daughter corporation. Miles would stay on as division manager and I would stay on as chief research engineer, but the free old days would be gone; we’d both be hired hands.

“Is that all?” I said.

“Mmm…yes. Let’s discuss it and take a vote.”

“There ought to be something in there granting us the right to sit in front of the cabin at night and sing spirituals.” “This is no joke, Dan. This is how it’s got to be.”

“I wasn’t joking. A slave needs privileges to keep him quiet. Okay, is it my turn?” “Go ahead.”

I put up a counterproposal, one that had been growing in my mind. I wanted us to get out of production. Jake Schmidt, our production shop master, was a good man; nevertheless I was forever being jerked out of a warm creative fog to straighten out bugs in production—which is like being dumped out of a warm bed into ice water. This was the real reason why I had been doing so much nightwork and staying away from the shop in the daytime. With more war-surplus buildings being moved in and a night shift contemplated I could see the time coming when I would get no peace to create, even though we turned down this utterly unpalatable plan to rub shoulders with General Motors and Consolidated. I certainly was not twins; I couldn’t be both inventor and production manager.

So I proposed that we get smaller instead of bigger—license Hired Girl and Window Willie, let someone else build and sell them while we raked in the royalties. When Flexible Frank was ready we would license him too. If Mannix wanted the licenses and would outbid the market, swell! Meantime, we’d change our name to Davis & Gentry Research Corporation and hold it down to just the three of us, with a machinist or two to help me jackleg new gadgets. Miles and Belle could sit back and count the money as it rolled in.

Miles shook his head slowly. “No, Dan. Licensing would make us some money, granted. But not nearly the money we would make if we did it ourselves.”

“Confound it, Miles, we wouldn’t be doing it ourselves; that’s just the point. We’d be selling our souls to the Mannix people. As for money, how much do you want? You can use only one yacht or one swimming pool at a time…and you’ll have both before the year is out if you want them.”

“I don’t want them.” “What do you want?”

He looked up. “Dan, you want to invent things. This plan lets you do so, with all the facilities and all the help and all the expense money in the world. Me, I want to run a big business. A big business. I’ve got the talent for it.” He glanced at Belle. “I don’t want to spend my life sitting out here in the middle of the Mojave Desert acting as business manager to one lonely inventor.”

I stared at him. “You didn’t talk that way at Sandia. You want out, Pappy? Belle and I would hate to see you go…but if that is the way you feel, I guess I could mortgage the place or something and buy you out. I wouldn’t want any man to feel tied down.” I was shocked to my heels, but if old Miles was restless I had no right to hold him to my pattern.

“No, I don’t want out; I want us to grow. You heard my proposal. It’s a formal motion for action by the corporation. I so move.”

I guess I looked puzzled. “You insist on doing it the hard way? Okay, Belle, the vote is ‘no.’ Record it. But I won’t put up my counterproposal tonight. We’ll talk it over and exchange views. I want you to be happy, Miles.”

Miles said stubbornly, “Let’s do this properly. Roll call, Belle.”

“Very well, sir. Miles Gentry, voting stock shares number—” She read off the serial numbers. “How say you?” “Aye.”

She wrote in her book.

“Daniel B. Davis, voting stock shares number—” She read off a string of telephone numbers again; I didn’t listen to the formality. “How say you?” “No. And that settles it. I’m sorry, Miles.”

“Belle S. Darkin,” she went on, “voting shares number—” She recited figures again. “I vote ‘aye.’ ”

My mouth dropped open, then I managed to stop gasping and say, “But, baby, you can’t do that! Those are your shares, sure, but you know perfectly well that—”

“Announce the tally,” Miles growled.

“The ‘ayes’ have it. The proposal is carried.” “Record it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The next few minutes were confused. First I yelled at her, then I reasoned with her, then I snarled and told her that what she had done was not honest—true, I had assigned the stock to her but she knew as well as I did that I always voted it, that I had had no intention of parting with control of the company, that it was an engagement present, pure and simple. Hell, I had even paid the income tax on it last April. If she could pull a stunt like this when we were engaged, what was our marriage going to be like?

She looked right at me and her face was utterly strange to me. “Dan Davis, if you think we are still engaged after the way you have talked to me, you are even stupider than I’ve always known you were.” She turned to Gentry. “Will you take me home, Miles?”

“Certainly, my dear.”

I started to say something, then shut up and stalked out of there without my hat. It was high time to leave, or I would probably have killed Miles, since I couldn’t touch Belle.

I didn’t sleep, of course. About 4 A.M. I got out of bed, made phone calls, agreed to pay more than it was worth, and by five-thirty was in front of the plant with a pickup truck. I went to the gate, intending to unlock it and drive the truck to the loading dock so that I could run Flexible Frank over the tailgate—Frank weighed four hundred pounds.

There was a new padlock on the gate.

I shinnied over, cutting myself on barbed wire. Once inside, the gate would give me no trouble, as there were a hundred tools in the shop capable of coping with a padlock.

But the lock on the front door had been changed too.

I was looking at it, deciding whether it was easier to break a window with a tire iron, or get the jack out of the truck and brace it between the doorframe and the knob, when somebody shouted, “Hey, you! Hands up!”

I didn’t put my hands up but I turned around. A middle-aged man was pointing a hogleg at me big enough to bombard a city. “Who the devil are you?”

“Who are you?

“I’m Dan Davis, chief engineer of this outfit.”

“Oh.” He relaxed a little but still aimed the field mortar at me. “Yeah, you match the description. But if you have any identification on you, better let

me see it.”

“Why should I? I asked who you are?”

“Me? Nobody you’d know. Name of Joe Todd, with the Desert Protective & Patrol Company. Private license. You ought to know who we are;

we’ve had you folks as clients for the night patrol for months. But tonight I’m on as special guard.”

“You are? Then if they gave you a key to the place, use it. I want to get in. And quit pointing that blunderbuss at me.”

He still kept it leveled at me. “I couldn’t rightly do that, Mr. Davis. First place, I don’t have a key. Second place, I had particular orders about you. You aren’t to go in. I’ll let you out the gate.”

“I want the gate opened, all right, but I’m going in.” I looked around for a rock to break a window. “Please, Mr. Davis…”

“Huh?”

“I’d hate to see you insist, I really would. Because I couldn’t chance shooting you in the legs; I ain’t a very good shot. I’d have to shoot you in the belly. I’ve got soft-nosed bullets in this iron; it’ud be pretty messy.”

I suppose that was what changed my mind, though I would like to think it was something else; i.e., when I looked again through the window I saw that Flexible Frank was not where I had left him.

As he let me out the gate Todd handed me an envelope. “They said to give this to you if you showed up.” I read it in the cab of the truck. It said:

Dear Mr. Davis,

18 November 1970

At a regular meeting of the board of directors, held this date, it was voted to terminate all your connection (other than as stockholder) with the corporation, as permitted under paragraph three of your contract. It is requested that you stay off company property. Your personal papers and belongings will be forwarded to you by safe means.

The board wishes to thank you for your services and regrets the differences in policy opinion which have forced this step on us.

Sincerely yours, Miles Gentry

Chairman of the Board and General Manager by B. S. Darkin, Sec’y-Treasurer

I read it twice before I recalled that I had never had any contract with the corporation under which to invoke paragraph three or any other paragraph.

Later that day a bonded messenger delivered a package to the motel where I kept my clean underwear. It contained my hat, my desk pen, my other slide rule, a lot of books and personal correspondence, and a number of documents. But it did not contain my notes and drawings for Flexible Frank.

Some of the documents were very interesting. My “contract,” for example—sure enough, paragraph three let them fire me without notice subject to three months’ salary. But paragraph seven was even more interesting. It was the latest form of the yellow-dog clause, one in which the employee agrees to refrain from engaging in a competing occupation for five years by letting his former employers pay him cash to option his services on a first-refusal basis; i.e., I could go back to work any time I wanted to just by going, hat in hand, and asking Miles and Belle for a job—maybe that was why they sent the hat back.

But for five long years I could not work on household appliances without asking them first. I would rather have cut my throat.

There were copies of assignments of all patents, duly registered, from me to Hired Girl, Inc., for Hired Girl and Window Willie and a couple of

minor things. (Flexible Frank, of course, had never been patented—well, I didn’t think he had been patented; I found out the truth later.)

But I had never assigned any patents, I hadn’t even formally licensed their use to Hired Girl, Inc.; the corporation was my own creature and there

hadn’t seemed to be any hurry about it.

The last three items were my stock-shares certificate (those I had not given to Belle), a certified check, and a letter explaining each item of the check—accumulated “salary” less drawing-account disbursements, three months’ extra salary in lieu of notice, option money to invoke “paragraph seven”…and a thousand-dollar bonus to express “appreciation of services rendered.” That last was real sweet of them.

While I reread that amazing collection I had time to realize that I had probably not been too bright to sign everything that Belle put in front of me. There was no possible doubt that the signatures were mine.

I steadied down enough the next day to talk it over with a lawyer, a very smart and money-hungry lawyer, one who didn’t mind kicking and clapper-clawing and biting in the clinches. At first he was anxious to take it on a contingent-fee basis. But after he finished looking over my exhibits and listening to the details he sat back and laced his fingers over his belly and looked sour. “Dan, I’m going to give you some advice and it’s not going to cost you anything.”

“Well?”

“Do nothing. You haven’t got a prayer.” “But you said—”

“I know what I said. They rooked you. But how can you prove it? They were too smart to steal your stock or cut you off without a penny. They gave you exactly the deal you could have reasonably expected if everything had been kosher and you had quit, or had been fired over—as they express it

— a difference of policy opinion. They gave you everything you had coming to you…and a measly thousand to boot, just to show there are no hard feelings.”

“But I didn’t have a contract! And I never assigned those patents!”

“These papers say you did. You admit that’s your signature. Can you prove what you say by anyone else?”

I thought about it. I certainly could not. Not even Jake Schmidt knew anything that went on in the front office. The only witnesses I had were …Miles and Belle.

“Now about that stock assignment,” he went on, “that’s the one chance to break the logjam. If you—”

“But that is the only transaction in the whole stack that really is legitimate. I signed over that stock to her.”

“Yes, but why? You say that you gave it to her as an engagement present in expectation of marriage. Never mind how she voted it; that’s beside

the point. If you can prove that it was given as a betrothal gift in full expectation of marriage, and that she knew it when she accepted it, you can

force her either to marry you or to disgorge. McNulty vs. Rhodes. Then you’re in control again and you kick them out. Can you prove it?” “Damn it, I don’t want to marry her now. I wouldn’t have her.”

“That’s your problem. But one thing at a time. Have you any witnesses or any evidence, letters or anything, which would tend to show that she accepted it, understanding that you were giving it to her as your future wife?”

I thought. Sure, I had witnesses…the same old two, Miles and Belle.

“You see? With nothing but your word against both of theirs, plus a pile of written evidence, you not only won’t get anywhere, but you might wind up committed to a Napoleon factory with a diagnosis of paranoia. My advice to you is to get a job in some other line…or at the very most go ahead and buck their yellow-dog contract by setting up a competitive business—I’d like to see that phraseology tested, as long as I didn’t have to fight it myself. But don’t charge them with conspiracy. They’ll win, then they’ll sue you and clean you out of what they let you keep.” He stood up.

I took only part of his advice. There was a bar on the ground floor of the same building; I went in and had a couple or nine drinks.

I HAD PLENTY of time to recall all this while I was driving out to see Miles. Once we had started making money, he had moved Ricky and himself to a nice little rental in San Fernando Valley to get out of the murderous Mojave heat and had started commuting via the Air Force Slot. Ricky wasn’t there now, I was happy to recall; she was up at Big Bear Lake at Girl Scout camp—I didn’t want to chance Ricky’s being witness to a row between me and her stepdaddy.

I was bumper to bumper in Sepulveda Tunnel when it occurred to me that it would be smart to get the certificate for my Hired Girl stock off my person before going to see Miles. I did not expect any rough stuff (unless I started it), but it just seemed a good idea…like a cat who has had his tail caught in the screen door once, I was permanently suspicious.

Leave it in the car? Suppose I was hauled in for assault and battery; it wouldn’t be smart to have it in the car when the car was towed in and impounded.

I could mail it to myself, but I had been getting my mail lately from general delivery at the GPO, while shifting from hotel to hotel as often as they found out I was keeping a cat.

I had better mail it to someone I could trust. But that was a mighty short list.

Then I remembered someone I could trust. Ricky.

I may seem a glutton for punishment to decide to trust one female just after I had been clipped by another. But the cases are not parallel. I had known Ricky half her life and if there ever was a human being honest as a Jo block, Ricky was she…and Pete thought so too. Besides, Ricky didn’t have physical specifications capable of warping a man’s judgment. Her femininity was only in her face; it hadn’t affected her figure yet.

When I managed to escape from the logjam in Sepulveda Tunnel I got off the throughway and found a drugstore; there I bought stamps and a big and a little envelope and some note paper. I wrote to her:

Dear Rikki-tikki-tavi,

I hope to see you soon but until I do, I want you to

keep this inside envelope for me. It’s a secret, just between you and me.

I stopped and thought. Doggone it, if anything happened to me…oh, even a car crash, or anything that can stop breathing…while Ricky had this, eventually it would wind up with Miles and Belle. Unless I rigged things to prevent it. I realized as I thought about it that I had subconsciously reached a decision about the cold-sleep deal; I wasn’t going to take it. Sobering up and the lecture the doc had read me had stiffened my spine; I wasn’t going to run away, I was going to stay and fight—and this stock certificate was my best weapon. It gave me the right to examine the books; it entitled me to poke my nose into any and all affairs of the company. If they tried again simply to keep me out with a hired guard I could go back next time with a lawyer and a deputy sheriff and a court order.

I could drag them into court with it too. Maybe I couldn’t win but I could make a stink and perhaps cause the Mannix people to shy off from buying them out.

Maybe I shouldn’t send it to Ricky at all.

No, if anything happened to me I wanted her to have it. Ricky and Pete were all the “family” I had. I went on writing:

If by any chance I don’t see you for a year, you’ll know something has happened to me. If that happens, take care of Pete, if you can find him— and without telling anybody take the inside envelope to a branch of the Bank of America, give it to the trust officer and tell him to open it.

Love and kisses, Uncle Danny

Then I took another sheet and wrote: “3 December 1970, Los Angeles, California—For one dollar in hand received and other valuable considerations I assign”—here I listed legal descriptions and serial numbers of my Hired Girl, Inc., stock shares—“to the Bank of America in trust for Frederica Virginia Gentry and to be reassigned to her on her twenty-first birthday,” and signed it. The intent was clear and it was the best I could do on a drugstore counter with a jukebox blaring in my ear. It should make sure that Ricky got the stock if anything happened to me, while making darn sure that Miles and Belle could not grab it away from her.

But if all went well, I would just ask Ricky to give the envelope back to me when I got around to it. By not using the assignment form printed on the back of the certificate, I avoided all the red tape of having a minor assign it back to me; I could just tear up the separate sheet of paper.

I sealed the stock certificate with the note assigning it into the smaller envelope, placed it and the letter to Ricky in the larger envelope, addressed it to Ricky at the Girl Scout camp, stamped it, and dropped it in the box outside the drugstore. I noted that it would be picked up in about forty minutes and climbed back into my car feeling positively lighthearted…not because I had safeguarded the stock but because I had solved my greater problems.

Well, not “solved” them, perhaps, but had decided to face them, not run off and crawl in a hole to play Rip van Winkle…nor try to blot them out again with ethanol in various flavors. Sure, I wanted to see the year 2000, but just by sitting tight I would see it…when I was sixty, and still young enough, probably, to whistle at the girls. No hurry. Jumping to the next century in one long nap wouldn’t be satisfactory to a normal man anyhow—

about like seeing the end of a movie without having seen what goes before. The thing to do with the next thirty years was to enjoy them while they

unfolded; then when I came to the year 2000 I would understand it.

In the meantime I was going to have one lulu of a fight with Miles and Belle. Maybe I wouldn’t win, but I would sure let them know they had been in a scrap—like the times Pete had come home bleeding in six directions but insisting loudly, “You ought to see the other cat!”

I didn’t expect much out of this interview tonight. All it would amount to was a formal declaration of war. I planned to ruin Miles’ sleep… and he could phone Belle and ruin hers.

III

BY THE TIME I got to Miles’ house I was whistling. I had quit worrying about that precious pair and had worked out in my head, in the last fifteen miles, two brand-new gadgets, either one of which could make me rich. One was a drafting machine, to be operated like an electric typewriter. I guessed that there must be easily fifty thousand engineers in the U.S. alone bending over drafting boards every day and hating it, because it gets you in your kidneys and ruins your eyes. Not that they didn’t want to design—they did want to—but physically it was much too hard work.

This gismo would let them sit down in a big easy chair and tap keys and have the picture unfold on an easel above the keyboard. Depress three keys simultaneously and have a horizontal line appear just where you want it; depress another key and you fillet it in with a vertical line; depress two keys and then two more in succession and draw a line at an exact slant.

Cripes, for a small additional cost as an accessory, I could add a second easel, let an architect design in isometric (the only easy way to design), and have the second picture come out in perfect perspective rendering without his even looking at it. Why, I could even set the thing to pull floor plans and elevations right out of the isometric.

The beauty of it was that it could be made almost entirely with standard parts, most of them available at radio shops and camera stores. All but the control board, that is, and I was sure I could breadboard a rig for that by buying an electric typewriter, tearing its guts out, and hooking the keys to operate these other circuits. A month to make a primitive model, six weeks more to chase bugs…

But that one I just tucked away in the back of my mind, certain that I could do it and that it would have a market. The thing that really delighted me was that I had figured out a way to outflex poor old Flexible Frank. I knew more about Frank than anyone else could learn, even if they studied him a year. What they could not know, what even my notes did not show, was that there was at least one workable alternative for every choice I had made

—and that my choices had been constrained by thinking of him as a household servant. To start with, I could throw away the restriction that he had to live in a powered wheelchair. From there on I could do anything, except that I would need the Thorsen memory tubes—and Miles could not keep me from using those; they were on the market for anyone who wanted to design a cybernetic sequence.

The drafting machine could wait; I’d get busy on the unlimited all-purpose automaton, capable of being programmed for anything a man could do, just as long as it did not require true human judgment.

No, I’d rig a drafting machine first, then use it to design Protean Pete. “How about that, Pete? We’re going to name the world’s first real robot after you.”

“Mrrrrarr?”

“Don’t be so suspicious; it’s an honor.” After breaking in on Frank, I could design Pete right at my drafting machine, really refine it, and quickly. I’d make it a killer, a triple-threat demon that would displace Frank before they ever got him into production. With any luck I’d run them broke and have them begging me to come back. Kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, would they?

There were lights on in Miles’ house and his car was at the curb. I parked in front of Miles’ car, said to Pete, “You’d better stay here, fellow, and protect the car. Holler ‘halt’ three times fast, then shoot to kill.”

“Nooo!”

“If you go inside you’ll have to stay in the bag.” “Bleerrrt?”

“Don’t argue. If you want to come in, get in your bag.” Pete jumped into the bag.

Miles let me in. Neither of us offered to shake hands. He led me into his living room and gestured at a chair.

Belle was there. I had not expected her, but I suppose it was not surprising. I looked at her and grinned. “Fancy meeting you here! Don’t tell me you came all the way from Mojave just to talk to little old me?” Oh, I’m a gallus-snapper when I get started; you should see me wear women’s hats at parties.

Belle frowned. “Don’t be funny, Dan. Say what you have to say, if anything, and get out.”

“Don’t hurry me. I think this is cozy… my former partner… my former fiancée. All we lack is my former business.”

Miles said placatingly, “Now, Dan, don’t take that attitude. We did it for your own good…and you can come back to work any time you want to. I’d be glad to have you back.”

“For my own good, eh? That sounds like what they told the horse thief when they hanged him. As for coming back—how about it, Belle? Can I come back?”

She bit her lip. “If Miles says so, of course.”

“It seems like only yesterday that it used to be: ‘If Dan says so, of course.’ But everything changes; that’s life. And I’m not coming back, kids; you can stop fretting. I just came here tonight to find out some things.”

Miles glanced at Belle. She answered, “Such as?”

“Well, first, which one of you cooked up the swindle? Or did you plan it together?” Miles said slowly, “That’s an ugly word, Dan. I don’t like it.”

“Oh, come, come, let’s not be mealymouthed. If the word is ugly, the deed is ten times as ugly. I mean faking a yellow-dog contract, faking patent assignments—that one is a Federal offense, Miles; I think they pipe sunlight to you on alternate Wednesdays. I’m not sure, but no doubt the FBI can tell me. Tomorrow,” I added, seeing him flinch.

“Dan, you’re not going to be silly enough to try to make trouble about this?”

“Trouble? I’m going to hit you in all directions, civil and criminal, on all counts. You’ll be too busy to scratch…unless you agree to do one thing. But I didn’t mention your third peccadillo—theft of my notes and drawings of Flexible Frank…and the working model, too, although you may be able to make me pay for the materials for that, since I did bill them to the company.”

“Theft, nonsense!” snapped Belle. “You were working for the company.”

“Was I? I did most of it at night. And I never was an employee, Belle, as you both know. I simply drew living expenses against profits earned by my shares. What is the Mannix outfit going to say when I file a criminal complaint, charging that the things they were interested in buying—Hired Girl, Willie, and Frank—never did belong to the company but were stolen from me?”

“Nonsense,” Belle repeated grimly. “You were working for the company. You had a contract.”

I leaned back and laughed. “Look, kids, you don’t have to lie now; save it for the witness stand. There ain’t nobody here but just us chickens. What I really want to know is this: Who thought it up? I know how it was done. Belle, you used to bring in papers for me to sign. If more than one copy had to be signed, you would paper-clip the other copies to the first—for my convenience, of course; you were always the perfect secretary—and all I would see of the copies underneath would be the place to sign my name. Now I know that you slipped some jokers into some of those neat piles.

So I know that you were the one who conducted the mechanics of the swindle; Miles could not have done it. Shucks, Miles can’t even type very well.

But who worded those documents you horsed me into signing? You? I don’t think so…unless you’ve had legal training you never mentioned. How about it, Miles? Could a mere stenographer phrase that wonderful clause seven so perfectly? Or did it take a lawyer? You, I mean.”

Miles’ cigar had long since gone out. He took it from his mouth, looked at it, and said carefully, “Dan, old friend, if you think you’ll trap us into admissions, you’re crazy.”

“Oh, come off it; we’re alone. You’re both guilty either way. But I’d like to think that Delilah over there came to you with the whole thing wrapped up, complete, and then tempted you into a moment of weakness. But I know it’s not true. Unless Belle is a lawyer herself, you were both in it, accomplices before and after. You wrote the double talk; she typed it and tricked me into signing. Right?”

“Don’t answer, Miles!”

“Of course I won’t answer,” Miles agreed. “He may have a recorder hidden in that bag.”

“I should have had,” I agreed, “but I don’t.” I spread the top of the bag and Pete stuck his head out. “You getting it all, Pete? Careful what you say, folks; Pete has an elephant’s memory. No, I didn’t bring a recorder—I’m just good old lunkheaded Dan Davis who never thinks ahead. I go stumbling along, trusting my friends…the way I trusted you two. Is Belle a lawyer, Miles? Or did you yourself sit down in cold blood and plan how you could hog-tie me and rob me and make it look legal?”

“Miles!” interrupted Belle. “With his skill, he could make a recorder the size of a pack of cigarettes. It may not be in the bag. It may be on him.” “That’s a good idea, Belle. Next time I’ll have one.”

“I’m aware of that, my dear,” Miles answered. “If he has, you are talking very loosely. Mind your tongue.”

Belle answered with a word I didn’t know she used. My eyebrows went up. “Snapping at each other? Trouble between thieves already?” Miles’ temper was stretching thin, I was happy to see. He answered, “Mind your tongue, Dan…if you want to stay healthy.”

“Tsk, tsk! I’m younger than you are and I’ve had the judo course a lot more recently. And you wouldn’t shoot a man; you’d frame him with some sort of fake legal document. ‘Thieves,’ I said, and ‘thieves’ I meant. Thieves and liars, both of you.” I turned to Belle. “My old man taught me never to call a lady a liar, sugar face, but you aren’t a lady. You’re a liar…and a thief…and a tramp.”

Belle turned red and gave me a look in which all her beauty vanished and the underlying predatory animal was all that remained. “Miles!” she said shrilly. “Are you going to sit there and let him—”

“Quiet!” Miles ordered. “His rudeness is calculated. It’s intended to make us get excited and say things we’ll regret. Which you are almost doing. So keep quiet.” Belle shut up, but her face was still feral. Miles turned to me. “Dan, I’m a practical man always, I hope. I tried to make you see reason before you walked out of the firm. In the settlement I tried to make it such that you would take the inevitable gracefully.”

“Be raped quietly, you mean.”

“As you will. I still want a peaceful settlement. You couldn’t win any sort of suit, but as a lawyer I know that it is always better to stay out of court than to win. If possible. You mentioned a while ago that there was some one thing I could do that would placate you. Tell me what it is; perhaps we can reach terms.”

“Oh, that. I was coming to it. You can’t do it, but perhaps you can arrange it. It’s simple. Get Belle to assign back to me the stock I assigned to her as an engagement present.”

“No!” said Belle. Miles said, “I told you to keep quiet.”

I looked at her and said, “Why not, my former dear? I’ve taken advice on this point, as the lawyers put it, and, since it was given in consideration of the fact that you promised to marry me, you are not only morally but legally bound to return it. It was not a ‘free gift,’ as I believe the expression is, but something handed over for an expected and contracted consideration which I never received, to wit, your somewhat lovely self. So how about coughing up, huh? Or have you changed your mind again and are now willing to marry me?”

She told me where and how I could expect to marry her.

Miles said tiredly, “Belle, you’re only making things worse. Don’t you understand that he is trying to get our goats?” He turned back to me. “Dan, if that is what you came over for, you may as well leave. I stipulate that if the circumstances had been as you alleged, you might have a point. But they were not. You transferred that stock to Belle for value received.”

“Huh? What value? Where’s the canceled check?”

“There didn’t need be any. For services to the company beyond her duties.”

I stared. “What a lovely theory! Look, Miles old boy, if it was for service to the company and not to me personally, then you must have known about it and would have been anxious to pay her the same amount—after all, we split the profits fifty-fifty even if I had…or thought I had…retained control. Don’t tell me you gave Belle a block of stock of the same size?”

Then I saw them glance at each other and I got a wild hunch. “Maybe you did! I’ll bet my little dumpling made you do it, or she wouldn’t play. Is that right? If so, you can bet your life she registered the transfer at once…and the dates will show that I transferred stock to her at the very time we got

engaged—shucks, the engagement was in the Desert Herald—while you transferred stock to her when you put the skids under me and she jilted me—and it’s all a matter of record! Maybe a judge will believe me, Miles? What do you think?”

I had cracked them, I had cracked them! I could tell from the way their faces went blank that I had stumbled on the one circumstance they could

never explain and one I was never meant to know. So I crowded them…and had another wild guess. Wild? No, logical. “How much stock, Belle? As much as you got out of me, just for being ‘engaged’? You did more for him; you should have gotten more.” I stopped suddenly. “Say… I thought it was odd that Belle came all the way over here just to talk to me, seeing how she hates that trip. Maybe you didn’t come all that way; maybe you were here all along. Are you two shacked up? Or should I say ‘engaged’? Or…are you already married?” I thought about it. “I’ll bet you are. Miles, you aren’t as starry-eyed as I am; I’ll bet my other shirt that you would never, never transfer stock to Belle simply on promise of marriage. But you might for a wedding present—provided you got back voting control of it. Don’t bother to answer; tomorrow I’m going to start digging for the facts. They’ll be on record too.”

Miles glanced at Belle and said, “Don’t waste your time. Meet Mrs. Gentry.”

“So? Congratulations, both of you. You deserve each other. Now about my stock. Since Mrs. Gentry obviously can’t marry me, then—”

“Don’t be silly, Dan. I’ve already offset your ridiculous theory. I did make a stock transfer to Belle just as you did. For the same reason, services to the firm. As you say, these things are matters of record. Belle and I were married just a week ago…but you will find the stock registered to her quite some time ago if you care to look it up. You can’t connect them. No, she received stock from both of us, because of her great value to the firm. Then after you jilted her and after you left the employ of the firm, we were married.”

It set me back. Miles was too smart to tell a lie I could check on so easily. But there was something about it that was not true, something more than I had as yet found out.

“When and where were you married?”

“Santa Barbara courthouse, last Thursday. Not that it is your business.”

“Perhaps not. When was the stock transfer?”

“I don’t know exactly. Look it up if you want to know.”

Damn it, it just did not ring true that he had handed stock over to Belle before he had her committed to him. That was the sort of sloppy stunt I pulled; it wasn’t in character for him. “I’m wondering something, Miles. If I put a detective to work on it, might I find that the two of you got married once before a little earlier than that? Maybe in Yuma? Or Las Vegas? Or maybe you ducked over to Reno that time you both went north for the tax hearings? Maybe it would turn out that there was such a marriage recorded, and maybe the date of the stock transfer and the dates my patents were assigned to the firm all made a pretty pattern. Huh?”

Miles did not crack; he did not even look at Belle. As for Belle, the hate in her face could not have been increased even by a lucky stab in the dark. Yet it seemed to fit and I decided to ride the hunch to the limit.

Miles simply said, “Dan, I’ve been patient with you and have tried to be conciliatory. All it’s got me is abuse. So I think it’s time you left. Or I’ll bloody well make a stab at throwing you out—you and your flea-bitten cat!”

“Olé!” I answered. “That’s the first manly thing you’ve said tonight. But don’t call Pete ‘flea-bitten.’ He understands English and he is likely to take a chunk out of you. Okay, ex-pal, I’ll get out…but I want to make a short curtain speech, very short. It’s probably the last word I’ll ever have to say to you. Okay?”

“Well…okay. Make it short.”

Belle said urgently, “Miles, I want to talk to you.”

He motioned her to be quiet without looking at her. “Go ahead. Be brief.”

I turned to Belle. “You probably won’t want to hear this, Belle. I suggest that you leave.”

She stayed, of course. I wanted to be sure she would. I looked back at him. “Miles, I’m not too angry with you. The things a man will do for a larcenous woman are beyond belief. If Samson and Mark Antony were vulnerable, why should I expect you to be immune? By rights, instead of being angry I should be grateful to you. I guess I am, a little. I do know I’m sorry for you.” I looked over at Belle. “You’ve got her now and she’s all your

problem…and all it has cost me is a little money and temporarily my peace of mind. But what will she cost you? She cheated me, she even managed to persuade you, my trusted friend, to cheat me…what day will she team up with a new cat’s-paw and start cheating you? Next week? Next month? As long as next year? As surely as a dog returns to its vomit—”

“Miles!” Belle shrilled.

Miles said dangerously, “Get out!” and I knew he meant it. So I stood up.

“We were just going. I’m sorry for you, old fellow. Both of us made just one mistake originally, and it was as much my fault as yours. But you’ve got to pay for it alone. And that’s too bad…because it was such an innocent mistake.”

His curiosity got him. “What do you mean?”

“We should have wondered why a woman so smart and beautiful and competent and all-around high-powered was willing to come to work for us at clerk-typist’s wages. If we had taken her fingerprints the way the big firms do, and run a routine check, we might not have hired her…and you and I would still be partners.”

Pay dirt again! Miles looked suddenly at his wife and she looked—well, “cornered rat” is wrong; rats aren’t shaped like Belle.

And I couldn’t leave well enough alone; I just had to pick at it. I walked toward her, saying, “Well, Belle? If I took that highball glass sitting beside you and had the fingerprints on it checked, what would I find? Pictures in post offices? The big con? Or bigamy? Marrying suckers for their money, maybe? Is Miles legally your husband?” I reached down and picked up the glass.

Belle slapped it out of my hand. And Miles shouted at me.

And I had finally pushed my luck too far. I had been stupid to go into a cage of dangerous animals with no weapons, then I forgot the first tenet of the animal tamer; I turned my back. Miles shouted and I turned toward him. Belle reached for her purse…and I remember thinking that it was a hell of a time for her to be reaching for a cigarette.

Then I felt the stab of the needle.

I remember feeling just one thing as my knees got weak and I started slipping toward the carpet: utter astonishment that Belle would do such a thing to me. When it came right down to it, I still trusted her.

IV

I NEVER WAS completely unconscious. I got dizzy and vague as the drug hit me—it hits even quicker than morphine. But that was all. Miles yelled something at Belle and grabbed me around the chest as my knees folded. As he dragged me over and let me collapse into a chair, even the dizziness passed.

But while I was awake, part of me was dead. I know now what they used on me: the “zombie” drug, Uncle Sam’s answer to brainwashing. So far as I know, we never used it on a prisoner, but the boys whipped it up in the investigation of brainwashing and there it was, illegal but very effective. It’s the same stuff they now use in one-day psychoanalysis, but I believe it takes a court order to permit even a psychiatrist to use it.

God knows where Belle laid hands on it. But then God alone knows what other suckers she had on the string.

But I wasn’t wondering about that then; I wasn’t wondering about anything. I just lay slumped there, passive as a vegetable, hearing what went on, seeing anything in front of my eyes—but if Lady Godiva had strolled through without her horse I would not have shifted my eyes as she passed out of my vision.

Unless I was told to.

Pete jumped out of his bag, trotted over to where I slouched, and asked what was wrong. When I didn’t answer he started stropping my shins vigorously back and forth while still demanding an explanation. When still I did not respond he levitated to my knees, put his forepaws on my chest, looked me right in the face, and demanded to know what was wrong, right now and no nonsense.

I didn’t answer and he began to wail.

That caused Miles and Belle to pay attention to him. Once Miles had me in the chair he had turned to Belle and had said bitterly, “Now you’ve done it! Have you gone crazy?”

Belle answered, “Keep your nerve, Chubby. We’re going to settle him once and for all.”

“What? If you think I’m going to help in a murder—”

“Stuff it! That would be the logical thing to do…but you don’t have the guts for it. Fortunately it’s not necessary with that stuff in him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s our boy now. He’ll do what I tell him to. He won’t make any more trouble.” “But…good God, Belle, you can’t keep him doped up forever. Once he comes out of it—”

“Quit talking like a lawyer. I know what this stuff will do; you don’t. When he comes out of it he’ll do whatever I’ve told him to do. I’ll tell him never to sue us; he’ll never sue us. I tell him to quit sticking his nose into our business; okay, he’ll leave us alone. I tell him to go to Timbuktu; he’ll go there. I tell him to forget all this; he’ll forget…but he’ll do it just the same.”

I listened, understanding her but not in the least interested. If somebody had shouted, “The house is on fire!” I would have understood that, too, and I still would not have been interested.

“I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t, eh?” She looked at him oddly. “You ought to.” “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Skip it, skip it. This stuff works, Chubby. But first we’ve got to—”

It was then that Pete started wailing. You don’t hear a cat wail very often; you could go a lifetime and not hear it. They don’t do it when fighting, no matter how badly they are hurt; they never do it out of simple displeasure. A cat does it only in ultimate distress, when the situation is utterly unbearable but beyond its capacity and there is nothing left to do but keen.

It puts one in mind of a banshee. Also it is hardly to be endured; it hits a nerve-racking frequency. Miles turned and said, “That confounded cat! We’ve got to get it out of here.”

Belle said, “Kill it.”

“Huh? You’re always too drastic, Belle. Why, Dan would raise more Cain about that worthless animal than he would if we had stripped him completely. Here—” He turned and picked up Pete’s travel bag.

Ill kill it!” Belle said savagely. “I’ve wanted to kill that damned cat for months.” She looked around for a weapon and found one, a poker from the fireplace set; she ran over and grabbed it.

Miles picked up Pete and tried to put him into the bag.

“Tried” is the word. Pete isn’t anxious to be picked up by anyone but me or Ricky, and even I would not pick him up while he was wailing, without very careful negotiation; an emotionally disturbed cat is as touchy as mercury fulminate. But even if he were not upset, Pete certainly would never permit himself without protest to be picked up by the scruff of the neck.

Pete got him with claws in the forearm and teeth in the fleshy part of Miles’ left thumb. Miles yelped and dropped him. Belle shrilled, “Stand clear, Chubby!” and swung at him with the poker.

Belle’s intentions were sufficiently forthright and she had the strength and the weapon. But she wasn’t skilled with her weapon, whereas Pete is very skilled with his. He ducked under that roundhouse swipe and hit her four ways, two paws for each of her legs.

Belle screamed and dropped the poker.

I didn’t see much of the rest of it. I was still looking straight ahead and could see most of the living room, but I couldn’t see anything outside that angle because no one told me to look in any other direction. So I followed the rest of it mostly by sound, except once when they doubled back across my cone of vision, two people chasing a cat—then with unbelievable suddenness, two people being chased by a cat. Aside from that one short scene I was aware of the battle by the sounds of crashes, running, shouts, curses, and screams.

But I don’t think they ever laid a glove on him.

The worst thing that happened to me that night was that in Pete’s finest hour, his greatest battle and greatest victory, I not only did not see all the details, but I was totally unable to appreciate any of it. I saw and I heard but I had no feeling about it; at his supreme Moment of Truth I was numb.

I recall it now and conjure up emotion I could not feel then. But it’s not the same thing; I’m forever deprived, like a narcolept on a honeymoon.

The crashes and curses ceased abruptly, and shortly Miles and Belle came back into the living room. Belle said between gasps, “Who left that censorable screen door unhooked?”

“You did. Shut up about it. It’s gone now.” Miles had blood on his face as well as his hands; he dabbed at the fresh scratches on his face and did them no good. At some point he must have tripped and gone down, for his clothes looked it and his coat was split up the back.

“I will like hell shut up. Have you got a gun in the house?” “Huh?”

“I’m going to shoot that damned cat.” Belle was in even worse shape than Miles; she had more skin where Pete could get at it—legs, bare arms

and shoulders. It was clear that she would not be wearing strapless dresses again soon, and unless she got expert attention promptly she was likely

to have scars. She looked like a harpy after a no-holds-barred row with her sisters. Miles said, “Sit down!”

She answered him briefly and, by implication, negatively. “I’m going to kill that cat.”

“Then don’t sit down. Go wash yourself. I’ll help you with iodine and stuff and you can help me. But forget that cat; we’re well rid of it.”

Belle answered rather incoherently, but Miles understood her. “You too,” he answered, “in spades. Look here, Belle, if I did have a gun—I’m not saying that I have—and you went out there and started shooting, whether you got the cat or not you would have the police here inside of ten minutes, snooping around and asking questions. Do you want that with him on our hands?” He jerked a thumb in my direction. “And if you go outside the house tonight without a gun that beast will probably kill you.” He scowled even more deeply. “There ought to be a law against keeping an animal like

that. He’s a public danger. Listen to him.”

We could all hear Pete prowling around the house. He was not wailing now; he was voicing his war cry—inviting them to choose weapons and come outside, singly or in bunches.

Belle listened to it and shuddered. Miles said, “Don’t worry; he can’t get in. I not only hooked the screen you left open, I locked the door.” “I did not leave it open!”

“Have it your own way.” Miles went around checking the window fastenings. Presently Belle left the room and so did he. Sometime while they were gone Pete shut up. I don’t know how long they were gone; time didn’t mean anything to me.

Belle came back first. Her makeup and hairdo were perfect; she had put on a long-sleeved, high-necked dress and had replaced the ruined stockings. Except for Band-Aid strips on her face, the results of battle did not show. Had it not been for the grim look on her phiz I would have considered her, under other circumstances, a delectable sight.

She came straight toward me and told me to stand up, so I did. She went through me quickly and expertly, not forgetting watch pocket, shirt pockets, and the diagonal one on the left inside of the jacket which most suits do not have. The take was not much—my wallet with a small amount of cash, ID cards, driver’s license, and such, keys, small change, a nasal inhaler against the smog, minor miscellaneous junk, and the envelope containing the certified check which she herself had bought and had sent to me. She turned it over, read the closed endorsement I had made on it, and looked puzzled.

“What’s this, Dan? Buying a slug of insurance?”

“No.” I would have told her the rest, but answering the last question asked of me was the best I could do.

She frowned and put it with the rest of the contents of my pockets. Then she caught sight of Pete’s bag and apparently recalled the flap in it I used for a briefcase, for she picked it up and opened the flap.

At once she found the quadruplicate sets of the dozen and a half forms I had signed for Mutual Assurance Company. She sat down and started to read them. I stood where she had left me, a tailor’s dummy waiting to be put away.

Presently Miles came in wearing bathrobe and slippers and quite a large amount of gauze and adhesive tape. He looked like a fourth-rate middleweight whose manager has let him be outmatched. He was wearing one bandage like a scalp lock, fore and aft on his bald head; Pete must have got to him while he was down.

Belle glanced up, waved him to silence, and indicated the stack of papers she was through with. He sat down and started to read. He caught up with her and finished the last one reading over her shoulder.

She said, “This puts a different complexion on things.”

“An understatement. This commitment order is for December fourth—that’s tomorrow. Belle, he’s as hot as noon in Mojave; we’ve got to get him out of here!” He glanced at a clock. “They’ll be looking for him in the morning.”

“Miles, you always get chicken when the pressure is on. This is a break, maybe the best break we could hope for.” “How do you figure?”

“This zombie soup, good as it is, has one shortcoming. Suppose you dose somebody with it and load him up with what you want him to do. Okay, so he does it. He carries out your orders; he has to. Know anything about hypnosis?”

“Not much.”

“Do you know anything but law, Chubby? You haven’t any curiosity. A posthypnotic command—which is what this amounts to—may conflict, in fact it’s almost certain to conflict, with what the subject really wants to do. Eventually that may land him in the hands of a psychiatrist. If the psychiatrist is any good, he’s likely to find out what the trouble is. It is just possible that Dan here might go to one and get unstuck from whatever orders I give him. If he did, he could make plenty of trouble.”

“Damn it, you told me this drug was sure-fire.”

“Good God, Chubby, you have to take chances with everything in life. That’s what makes it fun. Let me think.”

After a bit she said, “The simplest thing and the safest is to let him go ahead with this sleep jump he is all set to take. He wouldn’t be any more out of our hair if he was dead—and we don’t have to take any risk. Instead of having to give him a bunch of complicated orders and then praying that he won’t come unstuck, all we have to do is order him to go ahead with the cold sleep, then sober him up and get him out of here…or get him out of here and then sober him.” She turned to me. “Dan, when are you going to take the Sleep?”

“I’m not.”

“Huh? What’s all this?” She gestured at the papers from my bag. “Papers for cold sleep. Contracts with Mutual Assurance.”

“He’s nutty,” Miles commented. “Mmm…of course he is. I keep forgetting that they can’t really think when they’re under it. They can hear and talk and answer questions…but it has to be just the right questions. They can’t think.” She came up close and looked me in the eyes. “Dan, I want you to tell me all about this cold-sleep deal. Start at the beginning and tell it all the way through. You’ve got all the papers here to do it; apparently you signed them just today. Now you say you aren’t going to do it. Tell me all about it, because I want to know why you were going to do it and now you say you aren’t.”

So I told her. Put that way, I could answer. It took a long time to tell as I did just what she said and told it all the way through in detail. “So you sat there in that drive-in and decided not to? You decided to come out here and make trouble for us instead?”

“Yes.” I was about to go on, tell about the trip out, tell her what I had said to Pete and what he had said to me, tell her how I had stopped at a drugstore and taken care of my Hired Girl stock, how I had driven then to Miles’ house, how Pete had not wanted to wait in the car, how—

But she did not give me a chance. She said, “You’ve changed your mind again, Dan. You want to take the cold sleep. You’re going to take the cold sleep. You won’t let anything in the world stand in the way of your taking the cold sleep. Understand me? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take the cold sleep. I want to take…” I started to sway. I had been standing like a flagpole for more than an hour, I would guess, without moving any muscle, because no one had told me to. I started collapsing slowly toward her.

She jumped back and said sharply, “Sit down!”

So I sat down.

Belle turned to Miles. “That does it. I’ll hammer away at it until I’m sure he can’t miss.” Miles looked at the clock. “He said that doctor wanted him there at noon.”

“Plenty of time. But we had better drive him there ourselves, just to be—No, damn it!” “What’s the trouble?”

“The time is too short. I gave him enough soup for a horse, because I wanted it to hit him fast—before he hit me. By noon he’d be sober enough to convince most people. But not a doctor.”

“Maybe it’ll just be perfunctory. His physical examination is already here and signed.”

“You heard what he said the doctor told him. The doctor’s going to check him to see if he’s had anything to drink. That means he’ll test his reflexes and take his reaction time and peer in his eyes and—oh, all the things we don’t want done. The things we don’t dare let a doctor do. Miles, it won’t work.”

“How about the next day? Call ’em up and tell them there has been a slight delay?” “Shut up and let me think.”

Presently she started looking over the papers I had brought with me. Then she left the room, returned immediately with a jeweler’s loupe, which she screwed into her right eye like a monocle, and proceeded to examine each paper with great care. Miles asked her what she was doing, but she brushed his question aside.

Presently she took the loupe out of her eye and said, “Thank goodness they all have to use the same government forms. Chubby, get me the yellow-pages phone book.”

“What for?”

“Get it, get it. I want to check the exact phrasing of a firm name—oh, I know what it is but I want to be sure.”

Grumbling, Miles fetched it. She thumbed through it, then said, “Yes, ‘Master Insurance Company of California’…and there’s room enough on each of them. I wish it could be ‘Motors’ instead of ‘Master’; that would be a cinch—but I don’t have any connections at ‘Motors Insurance,’ and besides, I’m not sure they even handle hibernation; I think they’re just autos and trucks.” She looked up. “Chubby, you’re going to have to drive me out to the plant right away.”

“Huh?”

“Unless you know of some quicker way to get an electric typewriter with executive typeface and carbon ribbon. No, you go out by yourself and fetch it back; I’ve got telephoning to do.”

He frowned. “I’m beginning to see what you plan to do. But, Belle, this is crazy. This is fantastically dangerous.”

She laughed. “That’s what you think. I told you I had good connections before we ever teamed up. Could you have swung the Mannix deal alone?” “Well…I don’t know.”

I know. And maybe you don’t know that Master Insurance is part of the Mannix group.” “Well, no, I didn’t. And I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“It means my connections are still good. See here, Chubby, the firm I used to work for used to help Mannix Enterprises with their tax losses …until my boss left the country. How do you think we got such a good deal without being able to guarantee that Danny boy went with the deal? I know all about Mannix. Now hurry up and get that typewriter and I’ll let you watch an artist at work. Watch out for that cat.”

Miles grumbled but started to leave, then returned. “Belle? Didn’t Dan park right in front of the house?” “Why?”

“His car isn’t there now.” He looked worried.

“Well, he probably parked around the corner. It’s unimportant. Go get that typewriter. Hurry!”

He left again. I could have told them where I had parked but, since they did not ask me, I did not think about it. I did not think at all.

Belle went elsewhere in the house and left me alone. Sometime around daylight Miles got back, looking haggard and carrying our heavy typewriter. Then I was left alone again.

Once Belle came back in and said, “Dan, you’ve got a paper there telling the insurance company to take care of your Hired Girl stock. You don’t want to do that; you want to give it to me.”

I didn’t answer. She looked annoyed and said, “Let’s put it this way. You do want to give it to me. You know you want to give it to me. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I want to give it to you.”

“Good. You want to give it to me. You have to give it to me. You won’t be happy until you do give it to me. Now where is it? Is it in your car?” “No.”

“Then where is it?” “I mailed it.”

What?She grew shrill. “When did you mail it? Who did you mail it to? Why did you do it?”

If she had asked the second question last I would have answered it. But I answered the last question, that being all I could handle. “I assigned it.”

Miles came in. “Where did he put it?”

“He says he’s mailed it…because he has assigned it! You had better find his car and search it—he may just think he actually mailed it. He certainly had it with him at the insurance company.”

“Assigned it!” repeated Miles. “Good Lord! To whom?” “I’ll ask him. Dan, to whom did you assign your stock?”

“To the Bank of America.” She didn’t ask me why or I would have told her about Ricky.

All she did was slump her shoulders and sigh. “There goes the ball game, Chubby. We can forget about the stock. It’ll take more than a nail file to get it away from a bank.” She straightened up suddenly. “Unless he hasn’t really mailed it yet. If he hasn’t I’ll clean that assignment off the back so pretty you’ll think it’s been to the laundry. Then he’ll assign it again…to me.”

“To us,” corrected Miles.

“That’s just a detail. Go find his car.”

Miles returned later and announced, “It’s not anywhere within six blocks of here. I cruised around all the streets, and the alleys too. He must have used a cab.”

“You heard him say he drove his own car.”

“Well, it’s not out there. Ask him when and where he mailed the stock.”

So Belle did and I told them. “Just before I came here. I mailed it at the postbox at the corner of Sepulveda and Ventura Boulevard.”

“Do you suppose he’s lying?” asked Miles.

“He can’t lie, not in the shape he’s in. And he’s too definite about it to be mixed up. Forget it, Miles. Maybe after he’s put away it will turn out that his assignment is no good because he had already sold it to us…at least I’ll get his signature on some blank sheets and be ready to try it.”

She did try to get my signature and I tried to oblige. But in the shape I was in I could not write well enough to satisfy her. Finally she snatched a sheet out of my hand and said viciously, “You make me sick! I can sign your name better than that.” Then she leaned over me and said tensely, “I wish I had killed your cat.”

They did not bother me again until later in the day. Then Belle came in and said, “Danny boy, I’m going to give you a hypo and then you’ll feel a lot better. You’ll feel able to get up and move around and act just like you always have acted. You won’t be angry at anybody, especially not at Miles and me. We’re your best friends. We are, aren’t we? Who are your best friends?”

“You are. You and Miles.”

“But I’m more than that. I’m your sister. Say it.” “You’re my sister.”

“Good. Now we’re going for a ride and then you are going for a long sleep. You’ve been sick and when you wake up you’ll be well. Understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Who am I?”

“You’re my best friend. You’re my sister.” “Good boy. Push your sleeve back.”

I didn’t feel the hypo go in, but it stung after she pulled it out. I sat up and shrugged and said, “Gee, Sis, that stung. What was it?” “Something to make you feel better. You’ve been sick.”

“Yeah, I’m sick. Where’s Miles?”

“He’ll be here in a moment. Now let’s have your other arm. Push back the sleeve.”

I said, “What for?” but I pushed back the sleeve and let her shoot me again. I jumped. She smiled. “That didn’t really hurt, did it?”

“Huh? No, it didn’t hurt. What’s it for?”

“It will make you sleepy on the ride. Then when we get there you’ll wake up.”

“Okay. I’d like to sleep. I want to take a long sleep.” Then I felt puzzled and looked around. “Where’s Pete? Pete was going to sleep with me.” “Pete?” Belle said. “Why, dear, don’t you remember? You sent Pete to stay with Ricky. She’s going to take care of him.”

“Oh yes!” I grinned with relief. I had sent Pete to Ricky; I remembered mailing him. That was good. Ricky loved Pete and she would take good care of him while I was asleep.

They drove me out to the Consolidated Sanctuary at Sawtelle, one that many of the smaller insurance companies used—those that didn’t have their own. I slept all the way but came awake at once when Belle spoke to me. Miles stayed in his car and she took me in. The girl at the desk looked up and said, “Davis?”

“Yes,” agreed Belle. “I’m his sister. Is the representative for Master Insurance here?”

“You’ll find him down in Treatment Room Nine—they’re ready and waiting. You can give the papers to the man from Master.” She looked at me with interest. “He’s had his physical examination?”

“Oh yes!” Belle assured her. “Brother is a therapy-delay case, you know. He’s under an opiate…for the pain.” The receptionist clucked sympathetically. “Well, hurry on in then. Through that door and turn left.”

In Room Nine there was a man in street clothes and one in white coveralls and a woman in a nurse’s uniform. They helped me get undressed and treated me like an idiot child while Belle explained again that I was under a sedative for the pain. Once he had me stripped and up on the table, the man in white massaged my belly, digging his fingers in deeply. “No trouble with this one,” he announced. “He’s empty.”

“He hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since yesterday evening,” agreed Belle.

“That’s fine. Sometimes they come in here stuffed like a Christmas turkey. Some people have no sense.” “True. Very true.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, son, clench your fist tight while I get this needle in.”

I did and things began to get really hazy. Suddenly I remembered something and tried to sit up. “Where’s Pete? I want to see Pete.”

Belle took my head and kissed me. “There, there, Buddy! Pete couldn’t come, remember? Pete had to stay with Ricky.” I quieted down and she said gently to the others, “Our brother Peter has a sick little girl at home.”

I dropped off to sleep. Presently I felt very cold. But I couldn’t move to reach the covers.

V

I WAS COMPLAINING to the bartender about the air conditioning—it was turned too high and we were all going to catch cold. “No matter,” he assured me. “You won’t feel it when you’re asleep. Sleep…sleep… soup of the evening, beautiful sleep.” He had Belle’s face.

“How about a warm drink then?” I wanted to know. “A Tom and Jerry? Or a hot buttered bum?” “You’re a bum!” the doctor answered. “Sleeping’s too good for him; throw the bum out!”

I tried to hook my feet around the brass rail to stop them. But this bar had no brass rail, which seemed funny, and I was flat on my back, which seemed funnier still, unless they had installed bedside service for people with no feet. I didn’t have feet, so how could I hook them under a brass rail? No hands, either. “Look, Maw, no hands!” Pete sat on my chest and wailed.

I was back in basic training…advanced basic, it must have been, for I was at Camp Hale at one of those silly exercises where they throw snow down your neck to make a man of you. I was having to climb the damnedest biggest mountain in all Colorado and it was all ice and I had no feet. Nevertheless, I was carrying the biggest pack anybody ever saw—I remembered that they were trying to find out if GIs could be used instead of pack mules and I had been picked because I was expendable. I wouldn’t have made it at all if little Ricky hadn’t got behind me and pushed.

The top sergeant turned and he had a face just like Belle’s and he was livid with rage. “Come on, you! I can’t afford to wait for you. I don’t care whether you make it or not…but you can’t sleep until you get there.”

My no-feet wouldn’t take me any farther and I fell down in the snow and it was icy warm and I did fall asleep while little Ricky wailed and begged me not to. But I had to sleep.

I woke up in bed with Belle. She was shaking me and saying, “Wake up, Dan! I can’t wait thirty years for you; a girl has to think of her future.” I tried to get up and hand her the bags of gold I had under the bed, but she was gone…and anyhow a Hired Girl with her face had picked all the gold up and put it in its tray on top and scurried out of the room. I tried to run after it but I had no feet, no body at all, I discovered. “I ain’t got no body, and nobody cares for me…” The world consisted of top sergeants and work…so what difference did it make where you worked or how? I let them put the harness back on me and I went back to climbing that icy mountain. It was all white and beautifully rounded and if I could just climb to the rosy tip they would let me sleep, which was what I needed. But I never made it…no hands, no feet, no nothing.

There was a forest fire on the mountain. The snow did not melt, but I could feel the heat in waves beating against me while I kept on struggling. The top sergeant was leaning over me and saying, “Wake up…wake up…wake up.”

HE NO MORE than got me awake before he wanted me to sleep again. I’m vague about what happened then for a while. Part of the time I was on a table which vibrated under me and there were lights and snaky-looking equipment and lots of people. But when I was fully awake I was in a hospital bed and I felt all right except for that listless half-floating feeling you have after a Turkish bath. I had hands and feet again. But nobody would talk to me and every time I tried to ask a question a nurse would pop something into my mouth. I was massaged quite a lot.

Then one morning I felt fine and got out of bed as soon as I woke up. I felt a little dizzy but that was all. I knew who I was, I knew how I had got there, and I knew that all that other stuff had been dreams.

I knew who had put me there. If Belle had given me orders while I was drugged to forget her shenanigans, either the orders had not taken or thirty years of cold sleep had washed out the hypnotic effect. I was blurry about some details but I knew how they had shanghaied me.

I wasn’t especially angry about it. True, it had happened just “yesterday,” since yesterday is the day just one sleep behind you—but the sleep had been thirty years long. The feeling cannot be precisely defined, since it is entirely subjective, but, while my memory was sharp for the events of “yesterday,” nevertheless my feelings about those events were to things far away. You have seen double images in television of a pitcher making his windup while his picture sits as a ghost on top of a long shot of the whole baseball diamond? Something like that…my conscious recollection was a close-up; my emotional reaction was to something long ago and far away.

I fully intended to look up Belle and Miles and chop them into cat meat, but there was no hurry. Next year would do—right now I was eager to have a look at the year 2000.

But speaking of cat meat, where was Pete? He ought to be around somewhere…unless the poor little beggar hadn’t lived through the Sleep. Then—and not until then—did I remember that my careful plans to bring Pete along had been wrecked.

I took Belle and Miles out of the “Hold” basket and moved them over to “Urgent.” Try to kill my cat, would they?

They had done worse than kill Pete; they had turned him out to go wild…to wear out his days wandering back alleys in search of scraps, while his ribs grew thin and his sweet pixie nature warped into distrust of all two-legged beasts.

They had let him die—for he was surely dead by now—let him die thinking that I had deserted him.

For this they would pay…if they were still alive. Oh, how I hoped they were still alive—unspeakable!

I FOUND THAT I was standing by the foot of my bed, grasping the rail to steady myself and dressed only in pajamas. I looked around for some way to call someone. Hospital rooms had not changed much. There was no window and I could not see where the light came from; the bed was high and narrow, as hospital beds had always been in my recollection, but it showed signs of having been engineered into something more than a place to sleep—among other things, it seemed to have some sort of plumbing under it which I suspected was a mechanized bedpan, and the side table was part of the bed structure itself. But, while I ordinarily would have been intensely interested in such gadgetry, right now I simply wanted to find the pear-shaped switch which summons the nurse—I wanted my clothes.

It was missing, but I found what it had been transformed into: a pressure switch on the side of the table that was not quite a table. My hand struck it in trying to find it, and a transparency opposite where my head would have been had I been in bed shone out with: SERVICE CALL. Almost immediately it blinked out and was replaced with: ONE MOMENT, PLEASE.

Very quickly the door silently rolled aside and a nurse came in. Nurses had not changed much. This one was reasonably cute, had the familiar firm manners of a drill sergeant, wore a perky little white hat perched on short orchid-colored hair, and was dressed in a white uniform. It was strangely cut and covered her here and uncovered her there in a fashion different from 1970—but women’s clothes, even work uniforms, were always doing that. She would still have been a nurse in any year, just by her unmistakable manner.

“You get back in that bed!” “Where are my clothes?” “Get back in that bed. Now!”

I answered reasonably, “Look, nurse, I’m a free citizen, over twenty-one, and not a criminal. I don’t have to get back into that bed and I’m not

going to. Now are you going to show me where my clothes are or shall I go out the way I am and start looking?”

She looked at me, then turned suddenly and went out; the door ducked out of her way.

But it would not duck out of my way. I was still trying to study out the gimmick, being fairly sure that if one engineer could dream it up, another could figure it out, when it opened again and a man came in.

“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Dr. Albrecht.”

His clothes looked like a cross between a Harlem Sunday and a picnic to me, but his brisk manner and his tired eyes were convincingly professional; I believed him. “Good morning, Doctor. I’d like to have my clothes.”

He stepped just far enough inside to let the door slide into place behind him, then reached inside his clothes and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He got one out, waved it briskly in the air, placed it in his mouth and puffed on it; it was lighted. He offered me the pack. “Have one?”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“Go ahead. It won’t hurt you.”

I shook my head. I had always worked with a cigarette smoldering beside me; the progress of a job could be judged by the overflowing ashtrays and the burns on the drafting board. Now I felt a little faint at the sight of smoke and wondered if I had dropped the nicotine habit somewhere in the slept-away years. “Thanks just the same.”

“Okay. Mr. Davis, I’ve been here six years. I’m a specialist in hypnology, resuscitation, and like subjects. Here and elsewhere I’ve helped eight thousand and seventy-three patients make the comeback from hypothermia to normal life—you’re number eight thousand and seventy-four. I’ve seen them do all sorts of odd things when they came out—odd to laymen; not to me. Some of them want to go right back to sleep again and

scream at me when I try to keep them awake. Some of them do go back to sleep and we have to ship them off to another sort of institution. Some of them start weeping endlessly when they realize that it is a one-way ticket and it’s too late to go home to whatever year they started from. And some of them, like you, demand their clothes and want to run out into the street.”

“Well? Why not? Am I a prisoner?”

“No. You can have your clothes. I imagine you’ll find them out of style, but that is your problem. However, while I send for them, would you mind telling me what it is that is so terribly urgent that you must attend to it right this minute…after it has waited thirty years? That’s how long you’ve been at subtemperature—thirty years. Is it really urgent? Or would later today do as well? Or even tomorrow?”

I started to blurt out that it damn well was urgent, then stopped and looked sheepish. “Maybe not that urgent.”

“Then as a favor to me, will you get back into bed, let me check you over, have your breakfast, and perhaps talk with me before you go galloping off in all directions? I might even be able to tell you which way to gallop.”

“Uh, okay, Doctor. Sorry to have caused trouble.” I climbed into bed. It felt good—I was suddenly tired and shaky.

“No trouble. You should see some that we get. We have to pull them down off the ceiling.” He straightened the covers around my shoulders, then leaned over the table built into the bed. “Dr. Albrecht in Seventeen. Send a room orderly with breakfast, uh…menu four-minus.”

He turned to me and said, “Roll over and pull up your jacket; I want to get at your ribs. While I’m checking you, you can ask questions. If you want to.”

I tried to think while he prodded my ribs. I suppose it was a stethoscope he used although it looked like a miniaturized hearing aid. But they had not improved one thing about it; the pickup he pushed against me was as cold and hard as ever.

What do you ask after thirty years? Have they reached the stars yet? Who’s cooking up “The War to End War” this time? Do babies come out of test tubes? “Doc, do they still have popcorn machines in the lobbies of movie theaters?”

“They did the last time I looked. I don’t get much time for such things. By the way, the word is ‘grabbie’ now, not ‘movie.’ ” “So? Why?”

“Try one. You’ll find out. But be sure to fasten your seat belt; they null the whole theater on some shots. See here, Mr. Davis, we’re faced with this same problem every day and we’ve got it down to a routine. We’ve got adjustment vocabularies for each entrance year, and historical and cultural summaries. It’s quite necessary, for malorientation can be extreme no matter how much we lackweight the shock.”

“Uh, I suppose so.”

“Decidedly. Especially in an extreme lapse like yours. Thirty years.” “Is thirty years the maximum?”

 “Yes and no. Thirty-five years is the very longest we’ve had experience with, since the first commercial client was placed in subtemperature in December 1965. You are the longest Sleeper I have revived. But we have clients in here now with contract times up to a century and a half. They should never have accepted you for as long as thirty years; they didn’t know enough then. They were taking a great chance with your life. You were lucky.”

“Really?”

“Really. Turn over.” He went on examining me and added, “But with what we’ve learned now I’d be willing to prepare a man for a thousand-year jump if there were any way to finance it…hold him at the temperature you were at for a year just to check, then crash him to minus two hundred in a millisecond. He’d live. I think. Let’s try your reflexes.”

That “crash” business didn’t sound good to me. Dr. Albrecht went on: “Sit up and cross your knees. You won’t find the language problem difficult. Of course I’ve been careful to talk in 1970 vocabulary—I rather pride myself on being able to talk selectively in the entrance speech of any of my patients; I’ve made a hypnostudy of it. But you’ll be speaking contemporary idiom perfectly in a week; it’s really just added vocabulary.”

I thought of telling him that at least four times he had used words not used in 1970, or at least not that way, but I decided it wouldn’t be polite. “That’s all for now,” he said presently. “By the way, Mrs. Schultz has been trying to reach you.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you know her? She insisted that she was an old friend of yours.”

“ ‘Schultz,’ ” I repeated. “I suppose I’ve known several ‘Mrs. Schultzes’ at one time and another, but the only one I can place was my fourth-grade teacher. But she’d be dead by now.”

“Maybe she took the Sleep. Well, you can accept the message when you feel like it. I’m going to sign a release on you. But if you’re smart, you’ll stay here for a few days and soak up reorientation. I’ll look in on you later. So ‘twenty-three, skiddoo!’ as they used to say in your day. Here comes the orderly with your breakfast.”

I decided that he was a better doctor than a linguist. But I stopped thinking about it when I saw the orderly. It rolled in, carefully avoiding Dr. Albrecht, who walked straight out, paying no attention to it and making no effort himself to avoid it.

It came over, adjusted the built-in bed table, swung it over me, opened it out, and arranged my breakfast on it. “Shall I pour your coffee?” “Yes, please.” I did not really want it poured, as I would rather have it stay hot until I’ve finished everything else. But I wanted to see it poured. For I was in a delighted daze…it was Flexible Frank!

Not the jackleg, breadboarded, jury-rigged first model Miles and Belle had stolen from me, of course not. This one resembled the first Frank the

way a turbospeedster resembles the first horseless carriages. But a man knows his own work. I had set the basic pattern and this was the necessary evolution…Frank’s great-grandson, improved, slicked up, made more efficient—but the same bloodline.

“Will that be all?” “Wait a minute.”

Apparently I had said the wrong thing, for the automaton reached inside itself and pulled out a stiff plastic sheet and handed it to me. The sheet remained fastened to him by a slim steel chain. I looked at it and found printed on it:

The motto appeared on their trademark showing Aladdin rubbing his lamp and a genie appearing.

Below this was a long list of simple orders—STOP, GO, YES, NO, SLOWER, FASTER, COME HERE, FETCH A NURSE, etc. Then there was a shorter list of tasks common in hospitals, such as back rubs, and including some that I had never heard of. The list closed abruptly with the statement: “Routines 87 through 242 may be ordered only by hospital staff members and the order phrases are therefore not listed here.”

I had not voice-coded the first Flexible Frank; you had to punch buttons on his control board. It was not because I had not thought of it, but because the analyzer and telephone exchange for the purpose would have weighed and bulked and cost more than all the rest of Frank, Sr., net. I decided that I would have to learn some new wrinkles in miniaturization and simplification before I would be ready to practice engineering here. But I was anxious to get started on it, as I could see from Eager Beaver that it was going to be more fun than ever—lots of new possibilities. Engineering is the art of the practical and depends more on the total state of the art than it does on the individual engineer. When railroading time comes you can railroad—but not before. Look at poor Professor Langley, breaking his heart on a flying machine that should have flown—he had put the necessary genius in it— but he was just a few years too early to enjoy the benefit of collateral art he needed and did not have. Or take the great Leonardo da Vinci, so far out of his time that his most brilliant concepts were utterly unbuildable.

I was going to have fun here—I mean “now.”

I handed back the instruction card, then got out of bed and looked for the data plate. I had halfway expected to see “Hired Girl, Inc.” at the bottom of the notice and I wondered if “Aladdin” was a daughter corporation of the Mannix group. The data plate did not tell me much other than model, serial number, factory, and such, but it did list the patents, about forty of them—and the earliest, I was very interested to see, was in 1970…almost certainly based on my original model and drawings.

I found a pencil and memo pad on the table and jotted down the number of that first patent, but my interest was purely intellectual. Even if it had been stolen from me (I was sure it had been), it had expired in 1987—unless they had changed the patent laws—and only those granted later than 1983 would still be valid. But I wanted to know.

A light glowed on the automaton and he announced: “I am being called. May I leave?” “Huh? Sure. Run along.” It started to reach for the phrase list; I hastily said, “Go!” “Thank you. Good-bye.” It detoured around me.

“Thank you.

“You are welcome.”

Whoever had dictated the gadget’s sound responses had a very pleasant baritone voice. I got back into bed and ate the breakfast I had let get cold—only it turned out not to be cold. Breakfast four-minus was about enough for a medium-sized bird, but I found that it was enough, even though I had been very hungry. I suppose my stomach had shrunk. It wasn’t until I had finished that I remembered that this was the first food I had eaten in a generation. I noticed it then because they had included a menu—what I had taken for bacon was listed as “grilled yeast strips, country style.”

But in spite of a thirty-year fast, my mind was not on food; they had sent a newspaper in with breakfast: the Great Los Angeles Times, for Wednesday, 13 December 2000.

Newspapers had not changed much, not in format. This one was tabloid size, the paper was glazed instead of rough pulp and the illustrations were either full color, or black-and-white stereo—I couldn’t puzzle out the gimmick on that last. There had been stereo pictures you could look at without a viewer since I was a small child; as a kid I had been fascinated by ones used to advertise frozen foods in the ’50s. But those had required

fairly thick transparent plastic for a grid of tiny prisms; these were simply on thin paper. Yet they had depth.

I gave it up and looked at the rest of the paper. Eager Beaver had arranged it on a reading rack and for a while it seemed as if the front page was all I was going to read, for I could not find out how to open the durned thing. The sheets seemed to have frozen solid.

Finally I accidentally touched the lower right-hand corner of the first sheet; it curled up and out of the way…some surface-charge phenomenon, triggered at that point. The other pages got neatly out of the way in succession whenever I touched that spot.

At least half of the paper was so familiar as to make me homesick— “Your Horoscope Today, Mayor Dedicates New Reservoir, Security Restrictions Undermining Freedom of Press Says N.Y. Solon, Giants Take Double-Header, Unseasonable Warmth Perils Winter Sports, Pakistan Warns India”—et cetera, ad tedium. This is where I came in.

Some of the other items were new but explained themselves: LUNA SHUTTLE STILL SUSPENDED FOR GEMINIDS— TwentyFour-Hour Station Suffers Two Punctures, No Casualties; FOUR WHITES LYNCHED IN CAPE TOWN—U.N. Action Demanded; HOST-MOTHERS ORGANIZE FOR HIGHER FEES—Demand “Amateurs” Be Outlawed; MISSISSIPPI PLANTER INDICTED UNDER ANTI-ZOMBIE LAW— His

Defense: “Them Boys Hain’t Drugged, They’re Just Stupid!”

I was fairly sure that I knew what that last one meant…from experience.

But some of the news items missed me completely. The “wogglies” were still spreading and three more French towns had been evacuated; the King was considering ordering the area dusted. King? Oh well, French politics might turn up anything, but what was this “Poudre Sanitaire” they were considering using on the “wogglies”?—whatever they were. Radioactive, maybe? I hoped they picked a dead calm day…preferably the thirtieth of February. I had had a radiation overdose myself once, through a mistake by a damn-fool WAC technician at Sandia. I had not reached the point-of-no-return vomiting stage, but I don’t recommend a diet of curies.

The Laguna Beach division of the Los Angeles police had been equipped with Leycoils and the division chief warned all Teddies to get out of town. “My men have orders to nark first and subspeck afterward. This has got to stop!”

I made a mental note to keep clear of Laguna Beach until I found out what the score was. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be subspecked, or subspected, even afterward.

Those are just samples. There were any number of news stories that started out trippingly, then foundered in what was, to me, double talk.

I started to breeze on past the vital statistics when my eye caught some new subheads. There were the old familiar ones of births, deaths, marriages, and divorces, but now there were “commitments” and “withdrawals” as well, listed by sanctuaries. I looked up “Sawtelle Cons. Sanc.” and found my own name. It gave me a warm feeling of “belonging.”

But the most intensely interesting things in the paper were the ads. One of the personals stuck in my mind: “Attractive still-young widow with yen to travel wishes to meet mature man similarly inclined. Object: two-year marriage contract.” But it was the display advertising that got me.

Hired Girl and her sisters and her cousins and her aunts were all over the place—and they were still using the trademark, a husky girl with a broom, that I had designed originally for our letterhead. I felt a twinge of regret that I had been in such a jumping hurry to get rid of my stock in Hired Girl, Inc.; it looked as if it was worth more than all the rest of my portfolio. No, that was wrong; if I had kept it with me at the time, that pair of thieves would have lifted it and faked an assignment to themselves. As it was, Ricky had gotten it—and if it had made Ricky rich, well, it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.

I made a note to track down Ricky first thing, top priority. She was all that was left to me of the world I had known and she loomed very large in my mind. Dear little Ricky! If she had been ten years older I would never have looked at Belle…and wouldn’t have got my fingers burned.

Let’s see, how old would she be now? Forty—no, forty-one. It was hard to think of Ricky as forty-one. Still, that wouldn’t be old in a woman these days—or even those days. From forty feet you frequently couldn’t tell forty-one from eighteen.

If she was rich I’d let her buy me a drink and we would drink to Pete’s dear departed funny little soul.

And if something had slipped and she was poor in spite of the stock I had assigned her, then—by damn, I’d marry her! Yes, I would. It didn’t matter that she was ten years or so older than I was; in view of my established record for flubbing the dub I needed somebody older to look out for me and tell me no—and Ricky was just the girl who could do it. She had run Miles and Miles’ house with serious little-girl efficiency when she was less than ten; at forty she would be just the same, only mellowed.

I felt really warm and no longer lost in a strange land for the first time since I had wakened. Ricky was the answer to everything.

Then deep inside me I heard a voice: “Look, stupid, you can’t marry Ricky, because a girl as sweet as she was going to be would now have been married for at least twenty years. She’ll have four kids…maybe a son bigger than you are…and certainly a husband who won’t be amused by you in the role of good old Uncle Danny.”

I listened and my jaw sagged. Then I said feebly, “All right, all right—so I’ve missed the boat again. But I’m still going to look her up. They can’t do more than shoot me. And, after all, she’s the only other person who really understood Pete.”

I turned another page, suddenly very glum at the thought of having lost both Ricky and Pete. After a while I fell asleep over the paper and slept until Eager Beaver or his twin fetched lunch.

While I was asleep I dreamed that Ricky was holding me on her lap and saying, “It’s all right, Danny. I found Pete and now we’re both here to stay. Isn’t that so, Pete?”

“ Yeeeow!”

THE ADDED VOCABULARIES were a cinch; I spent much more time on the historical summaries. Quite a lot can happen in thirty years, but why put it down when everybody else knows it better than I do? I wasn’t surprised that the Great Asia Republic was crowding us out of the South American trade; that had been in the cards since the Formosan treaty. Nor was I surprised to find India more Balkanized than ever. The notion of England being a province of Canada stopped me for a moment. Which was the tail and which was the dog? I skipped over the panic of ’87; gold was a wonderful engineering material for some uses; I could not regard it as a tragedy to find that it was now cheap and no longer a basis for money, no matter how many people lost their shirts in the change-over.

I stopped reading and thought about the things you could do with cheap gold, with its high density, good conductivity, extreme ductility…and stopped when I realized I would have to read the technical literature first. Shucks, in atomics alone it would be invaluable. The way the stuff could be worked, far better than any other metal, if you could use it in miniaturizing—again I stopped, morally certain that Eager Beaver had had his “head” crammed full of gold. I would just have to get busy and find out what the boys had been doing in the “small back rooms” while I had been away.

The Sawtelle Sanctuary wasn’t equipped to let me read up on engineering, so I told Doc Albrecht I was ready to check out. He shrugged, told me I was an idiot, and agreed. But I did stay one more night; I found that I was fagged just from lying back and watching words chase past in a book scanner.

They brought me modern clothes right after breakfast the next morning …and I had to have help in dressing. They were not so odd in themselves

(although I had never worn cerise trousers with bell bottoms before) but I could not manage the fastenings without coaching. I suppose my

grandfather might have had the same trouble with zippers if he had not been led into them gradually. It was the Sticktite closure seams, of course—I thought I was going to have to hire a little boy to help me go to the bathroom before I got it through my head that the pressure-sensitive adhesion was axially polarized.

Then I almost lost my pants when I tried to ease the waistband. No one laughed at me. Dr. Albrecht asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Me? First I’m going to get a map of the city. Then I’m going to find a place to sleep. Then I’m going to do nothing but professional reading for quite a while…maybe a year. Doc, I’m an obsolete engineer. I don’t aim to stay that way.”

“Mmmm. Well, good luck. Don’t hesitate to call if I can help.”

I stuck out my hand. “Thanks, Doc. You’ve been swell. Uh, maybe I shouldn’t mention this until I talk to the accounting office of my insurance company and see just how well off I am—but I don’t intend to let it go with words. Thanks for the sort of thing you’ve done for me should be more substantial. Understand me?”

He shook his head. “I appreciate the thought. But my fees are covered by my contract with the sanctuary.” “But—”

“No. I can’t take it, so please let’s not discuss it.” He shook hands and said, “Good-bye. If you’ll stay on this slide it will take you to the main offices.” He hesitated. “If you find things a bit tiring at first, you’re entitled to four more days’ recuperation and reorientation here without additional charge under the custodial contract. It’s paid for. Might as well use it. You can come and go as you like.”

I grinned. “Thanks, Doc. But you can bet that I won’t be back—other than to say hello someday.”

I stepped off at the main office and told the receptionist there who I was. It handed me an envelope, which I saw was another phone message from Mrs. Schultz. I still had not called her, because I did not know who she was, and the sanctuary did not permit visits nor phone calls to a revivified client until he wanted to accept them. I simply glanced at it and tucked it in my blouse, while thinking that I might have made a mistake in making Flexible Frank too flexible. Receptionists used to be pretty girls, not machines.

The receptionist said, “Step this way, please. Our treasurer would like to see you.”

Well, I wanted to see him, too, so I stepped that way. I was wondering how much money I had made and was congratulating myself on having plunged in common stocks rather than playing it “safe.” No doubt my stocks had dropped in the Panic of ’87, but they ought to be back up now—in

fact I knew that at least two of them were worth a lot of dough now; I had been reading the financial section of the Times. I still had the paper with me, figuring I might want to look up some others.

The treasurer was a human being, even though he looked like a treasurer. He gave me a quick handshake. “How do you do, Mr. Davis. I’m Mr. Doughty. Sit down, please.”

I said, “Howdy, Mr. Doughty. I probably don’t need to take that much of your time. Just tell me this: Does my insurance company handle its settlements through your office? Or should I go to their home offices?”

“Do please sit down. I have several things to explain to you.”

So I sat. His office assistant (good old Frank again) fetched a file folder for him and he said, “These are your original contracts. Would you like to see them?”

I wanted very much to see them, as I had kept my fingers crossed ever since I was fully awake, wondering if Belle had figured out some way to bite the end off that certified check. A certified check is much harder to play hanky-panky with than is a personal check, but Belle was a clever gal.

I was much relieved to see that she had left my commitments unchanged, except of course that the side contract for Pete was missing and also the one concerning my Hired Girl stock. I supposed that she had just burned those, to keep from raising questions. I examined with care the dozen or more places where she had changed “Mutual Assurance Company” to “Master Insurance Company of California.”

The gal was a real artist, no question. I suppose a scientific criminologist armed with microscope and comparison stereo and chemical tests and so forth could have proved that each of those documents had been altered, but I could not. I wondered how she had coped with the closed endorsement on the back of the certified check, since certified checks are always on paper guaranteed non-erasable. Well, she probably had not used an eraser—what one person can dream up another person can outsmart…and Belle was very smart.

Mr. Doughty cleared his throat. I looked up. “Do we settle my account here?” “Yes.”

“Then I can put it in two words. How much?”

“Mmm…Mr. Davis, before we go into that question, I would like to invite your attention to one additional document…and to one circumstance. This is the contract between this sanctuary and Master Insurance Company of California for your hypothermia, custody, and revivification. You will note that the entire fee is paid in advance. This is both for our protection and for yours, since it guarantees your safe-being while you are helpless. The funds—all such funds—are placed in escrow with the superior-court division handling chancery matters and are paid quarterly to us as earned.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good arrangement.”

“It is. It protects the helpless. Now you must understand clearly that this sanctuary is a separate corporation from your insurance company; the custodial contract with us was a contract entirely separate from the one for the management of your estate.”

“Mr. Doughty, what are you getting at?”

“Do you have any assets other than those you entrusted to Master Insurance Company?”

I thought it over. I had owned a car once…but God alone knew what had become of it. I had closed out my checking account in Mojave early in the binge, and on that busy day when I ended up at Miles’ place—and in the soup—I had started with maybe thirty or forty dollars in cash. Books, clothes, slide rule—I had never been a pack rat—and that minor junk was gone anyhow. “Not even a bus transfer, Mr. Doughty.”

“Then—I am very sorry to have to tell you this—you have no assets of any sort.”

I held still while my head circled the field and came in for a crash landing. “What do you mean? Why, some of the stocks I invested in are in fine shape. I knowthey are. It says so right here.” I held up my breakfast copy of the Times.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Davis, but you don’t own any stocks. Master Insurance went broke.” I was glad he had made me sit down; I felt weak. “How did this happen? The Panic?”

“No, no. It was part of the collapse of the Mannix Group…but of course you don’t know about that. It happened after the Panic, and I suppose you could say that it started from the Panic. But Master Insurance would not have gone under if it had not been systematically looted… gutted—‘milked’ is the vulgar word. If it had been an ordinary receiver-ship, something at least would have been salvaged. But it was not. By the time it was discovered there was nothing left of the company but a hollow shell…and the men who had done it were beyond extradition. Uh, if it is any consolation to you, it could not happen under our present laws.”

No, it was no consolation, and besides, I didn’t believe it. My old man claimed that the more complicated the law the more opportunity for

scoundrels.

But he also used to say that a wise man should be prepared to abandon his baggage at any time. I wondered how often I was going to have to do it to qualify as “wise.” “Uh, Mr. Doughty, just out of curiosity, how did Mutual Assurance make out?”

“Mutual Assurance Company? A fine firm. Oh, they took their licking during the Panic along with everybody else. But they weathered it. You have a policy with them, perhaps?”

“No.” I did not offer explanation; there was no use. I couldn’t look to Mutual; I had never executed my contract with them. I couldn’t sue Master Insurance; there is no point in suing a bankrupt corpse.

I could sue Belle and Miles if they were still around—but why be silly? No proof, none.

Besides, I did not want to sue Belle. It would be better to tattoo her all over with “Null and Void”…using a dull needle. Then I’d take up the matter of what she had done to Pete. I hadn’t figured out a punishment to suit the crime for that one yet.

I suddenly remembered that it was the Mannix group that Miles and Belle had been about to sell Hired Girl, Inc., to when they had booted me out. “Mr. Doughty? Are you sure that the Mannix people haven’t any assets? Don’t they own Hired Girl?”

“ ‘Hired Girl?’ Do you mean the domestic autoappliance firm?” “Yes, of course.”

“It hardly seems possible. In fact, it is not possible, since the Mannix empire, as such, no longer exists. Of course I can’t say that there never was any connection between Hired Girl Corporation and the Mannix people. But I don’t believe it could have been much, if any, or I think I would have heard of it.”

I dropped the matter. If Miles and Belle had been caught in the collapse of Mannix, that suited me fine. But, on the other hand, if Mannix had owned and milked Hired Girl, Inc., it would have hit Ricky as hard as it hit them. I didn’t want Ricky hurt, no matter what the side issues were.

I stood up. “Well, thanks for breaking it gently, Mr. Doughty. I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t go yet. Mr. Davis…we of this institution feel a responsibility toward our people beyond the mere letter of the contract. You understand that yours is by no means the first case of this sort. Now our board of directors has placed a small discretionary fund at my disposal to ease such hardships. It—”

“No charity, Mr. Doughty. Thanks anyhow.”

“Not charity, Mr. Davis. A loan. A character loan, you might call it. Believe me, our losses have been negligible on such loans…and we don’t want you to walk out of here with your pockets empty.”

I thought that one over twice. I didn’t even have the price of a haircut. On the other hand, borrowing money is like trying to swim with a brick in each hand…and a small loan is tougher to pay back than a million. “Mr. Doughty,” I said slowly, “Dr. Albrecht said that I was entitled to four more days of beans and bed here.”

“I believe that is right—I’d have to consult your card. Not that we throw people out even when their contract time is up if they are not ready.” “I didn’t suppose that you did. But what are the rates on that room I had, as hospital room and board?”

“Eh? But our rooms are not for rent in that way. We aren’t a hospital; we simply maintain a recovery infirmary for our clients.” “Yes, surely. But you must figure it, at least for cost accounting purposes.”

“Mmm…yes and no. The figures aren’t allocated on that basis. The subheads are depreciation, overhead, operation, reserves, diet kitchen, personnel, and so forth. I suppose I could make an estimate.”

“Uh, don’t bother. What would equivalent room and board in a hospital come to?”

“That’s a little out of my line. Still…well, you could call it about one hundred dollars per day, I suppose.” “I had four days coming. Will you lend me four hundred dollars?”

He did not answer but spoke in a number code to his mechanical assistant. Then eight fifty-dollar bills were being counted into my hand. “Thanks,” I said sincerely as I tucked it away. “I’ll do my damnedest to see that this does not stay on the books too long. Six percent? Or is money tight?”

He shook his head. “It’s not a loan. Since you put it as you did, I canceled it against your unused time.” “Huh? Now, see here, Mr. Doughty, I didn’t intend to twist your arm. Of course, I’m going to—”

“Please. I told my assistant to enter the charge when I directed it to pay you. Do you want to give our auditors headaches all for a fiddling four hundred dollars? I was prepared to loan you much more than that.”

“Well—I can’t argue it now. Say, Mr. Doughty, how much money is this? How are price levels now?” “Mmm…that is a complex question.”

“Just give me an idea? What does it cost to eat?”

“Food is quite reasonable. For ten dollars you can get a very satisfactory dinner…if you are careful to select moderate-priced restaurants.”

I thanked him and left with a really warm feeling. Mr. Doughty reminded me of a paymaster I used to have in the Army. Paymasters come in only two sizes: One sort shows you where the book says that you can’t have what you’ve got coming to you; the second sort digs through the book until he finds a paragraph that lets you have what you need even if you don’t rate it.

Doughty was the second sort.

The sanctuary faced on the Wilshire Ways. There were benches in front of it and bushes and flowers. I sat down on a bench to take stock and to decide whether to go east or west. I had kept a stiff lip with Mr. Doughty but, honestly, I was badly shaken, even though I had the price of a week’s meals in my jeans.

But the sun was warm and the drone of the Ways was pleasant and I was young (biologically at least) and I had two hands and my brain.

Whistling “Hallelujah, I’m a bum,” I opened the Times to the “Help Wanted” columns.

I resisted the impulse to look through “Professional—Engineers” and turned at once to “Unskilled.”

That classification was darned short. I almost couldn’t find it.

VI

I GOT A JOB the second day, Friday, the fifteenth of December. I also had a mild run-in with the law and had repeated tangles with new ways of doing things, saying things, feeling about things. I discovered that “reorientation” by reading about it is like reading about sex—not the same thing.

I suppose I would have had less trouble if I had been set down in Omsk, or Santiago, or Djakarta. In going to a strange city in a strange land you

know that the customs are going to be different, but in Great Los Angeles I subconsciously expected things to be unchanged even though I could see that they were changed. Of course thirty years is nothing; anybody takes that much change and more in a lifetime. But it makes a difference to take it in one bite.

Take one word I used all in innocence. A lady present was offended and only the fact that I was a Sleeper—which I hastily explained—kept her husband from giving me a mouthful of knuckles. I won’t use the word here—oh yes, I will; why shouldn’t I? I’m using it to explain something. Don’t take my word for it that the word was in good usage when I was a kid; look it up in an old dictionary. Nobody scrawled it in chalk on sidewalks when I was a kid.

The word was “kink.”

There were other words which I still do not use properly without stopping to think. Not taboo words necessarily, just ones with changed meanings. “Host” for example—“host” used to mean the man who took your coat and put it in the bedroom; it had nothing to do with the birth rate.

But I got along. The job I found was crushing new ground limousines so that they could be shipped back to Pittsburgh as scrap. Cadillacs, Chryslers, Eisenhowers, Lincolns—all sorts of great, big, new powerful turbobuggies without a kilometer on their clocks. Drive ’em between the

jaws, then crunch! smash! crash!—scrap iron for blast furnaces.

It hurt me at first, since I was riding the Ways to work and didn’t own so much as a gravJumper. I expressed my opinion of it and almost lost my

job…until the shift boss remembered that I was a Sleeper and really didn’t understand.

“It’s a simple matter of economics, son. These are surplus cars the government has accepted as security against price-support loans. They’re two years old now and they can never be sold…so the government junks them and sells them back to the steel industry. You can’t run a blast furnace just on ore; you have to have scrap iron as well. You ought to know that even if you are a Sleeper. Matter of fact, with high-grade ore so scarce, there’s more and more demand for scrap. The steel industry needs these cars.”

“But why build them in the first place if they can’t be sold? It seems wasteful.”

“It just seems wasteful. You want to throw people out of work? You want to run down the standard of living?”

“Well, why not ship them abroad? It seems to me they could get more for them on the open market abroad than they are worth as scrap.”

“What!—and ruin the export market? Besides, if we started dumping cars abroad we’d get everybody sore at us—Japan, France, Germany, Great Asia, everybody. What are you aiming to do? Start a war?” He sighed and went on in a fatherly tone. “You go down to the public library and draw out some books. You don’t have any right to opinions on these things until you know something about them.”

So I shut up. I didn’t tell him that I was spending all my off time at the public library or at UCLA’s library; I had avoided admitting that I was, or used to be, an engineer—to claim that I was now an engineer would be too much like walking up to du Pont’s and saying, “Sirrah, I am an alchymiste. Hast need of art such as mine?”

I raised the subject just once more because I noticed that very few of the price-support cars were really ready to run. The workmanship was sloppy and they often lacked essentials like instrument dials or air conditioners. But when one day I noticed from the way the teeth of the crusher came down on one that it lacked even a power plant, I spoke up about it.

The shift boss just stared at me. “Great jumping Jupiter, son, surely you don’t expect them to put their best workmanship into cars that are just surplus? These cars had price-support loans against them before they ever came off the assembly line.”

So that time I shut up and stayed shut. I had better stick to engineering; economics is too esoteric for me.

But I had plenty of time to think. The job I had was not really a “job” at all in my book; all the work was done by Flexible Frank in his various disguises. Frank and his brothers ran the crusher, moved the cars into place, hauled away the scrap, kept count, and weighed the loads; my job was to stand on a little platform (I wasn’t allowed to sit) and hang onto a switch that could stop the whole operation if something went wrong. Nothing ever did, but I soon found that I was expected to spot at least one failure in automation each shift, stop the job, and send for a trouble crew.

Well, it paid twenty-one dollars a day and it kept me eating. First things first.

After social security, guild dues, income tax, defense tax, medical plan, and the welfare mutual fund I took home about sixteen of it. Mr. Doughty was wrong about a dinner costing ten dollars; you could get a very decent plate dinner for three if you did not insist on real meat, and I would defy anyone to tell whether a hamburger steak started life in a tank or out on the open range. With the stories going around about bootleg meat that might give you radiation poisoning I was perfectly happy with surrogates.

Where to live had been somewhat of a problem. Since Los Angeles had not been treated to the one-second slum-clearance plan in the Six Weeks War, an amazing number of refugees had gone there (I suppose I was one of them, although I hadn’t thought of myself as such at the time) and apparently none of them had ever gone home, even those that had homes left to go back to. The city—if you can call Great Los Angeles a city; it is more of a condition—had been choked when I went to sleep; now it was as jammed as a lady’s purse. It may have been a mistake to get rid of the smog; back in the ’60s a few people used to leave each year because of sinusitis.

Now apparently nobody left, ever.

The day I checked out of the sanctuary I had had several things on my mind, principally (1) find a job, (2) find a place to sleep, (3) catch up in engineering, (4) find Ricky, (5) get back into engineering—on my own if humanly possible, (6) find Belle and Miles and settle their hash—without going to jail for it, and (7) a slug of things, like looking up the original patent on Eager Beaver and checking my strong hunch that it was really Flexible Frank (not that it mattered now, just curiosity), and looking up the corporate history of Hired Girl, Inc., etc., etc.

I have listed the above in order of priority, as I had found out years ago (through almost flunking my freshman year in engineering) that if you didn’t use priorities, when the music stopped you were left standing. Some of these priorities ran concurrently, of course; I expected to search out Ricky and probably Belle & Co. as well, while I was boning engineering. But first things first and second things second; finding a job came even ahead of hunting for a sack because dollars are the key to everything else …when you haven’t got them.

After getting turned down six times in town I had chased an ad clear out to San Bernardino Borough, only to get there ten minutes too late. I should have rented a flop at once; instead I played it real smart and went back downtown, intending to find a room, then get up very early and be first in line for some job listed in the early edition.

How was I to know? I got my name on four rooming-house waiting lists and wound up in the park. I stayed there, walking to keep warm, until almost midnight, then gave up—Great Los Angeles winters are subtropical only if you accent the “sub.” I then took refuge in a station of Wilshire Ways…and about two in the morning they rounded me up with the rest of the vagrants.

Jails have improved. This one was warm and I think they required the cockroaches to wipe their feet.

I was charged with barracking. The judge was a young fellow who didn’t even look up from his newspaper but simply said, “These all first offenders?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Thirty days, or take a labor-company parole. Next.” They started to march us out but I didn’t budge. “Just a minute, Judge.” “Eh? Something troubling you? Are you guilty or not guilty?”

“Uh, I really don’t know because I don’t know what it is I have done. You see—”

“Do you want a public defender? If you do you can be locked up until one can handle your case. I understand they are running about six days late right now…but it’s your privilege.”

“Uh, I still don’t know. Maybe what I want is a labor-company parole, though I’m not sure what it is. What I really want is some advice from the Court, if the Court pleases.”

The judge said to the bailiff, “Take the others out.” He turned back to me. “Spill it. But I’ll warrant you won’t like my advice. I’ve been on this job long enough to have heard every phony story and to have acquired a deep disgust toward most of them.”

“Yes, sir. Mine isn’t phony; it’s easily checked. You see, I just got out of the Long Sleep yesterday and—”

But he did look disgusted. “One of those, eh? I’ve often wondered what made our grandparents think they could dump their riffraff on us. The last thing on earth this city needs is more people…especially ones who couldn’t get along in their own time. I wish I could boot you back to whatever year you came from with a message to everybody there that the future they’re dreaming about is not, repeat not, paved with gold.” He sighed. “But it wouldn’t do any good, I’m sure. Well, what do you expect me to do? Give you another chance? Then have you pop up here again a week from

now?”

“Judge, I don’t think I’m likely to. I’ve got enough money to live until I find a job and—” “Eh? If you’ve got money, what were you doing barracking?”

“Judge, I don’t even know what that word means.” This time he let me explain. When I came to how I had been swindled by Master Insurance Company his whole manner changed.

“Those swine! My mother got taken by them after she had paid premiums for twenty years. Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?” He took out a card, wrote something on it, and said, “Take this to the hiring office at the Surplus & Salvage Authority. If you don’t get a job come back and see me this afternoon. But no more barracking. Not only does it breed crime and vice, but you yourself are running a terrible risk of meeting up with a zombie recruiter.”

That’s how I got a job smashing up brand-new ground cars. But I still think I made no mistake in logic in deciding to job-hunt first. Anywhere is home to the man with a fat bank account—the cops leave him alone.

I found a decent room, too, within my budget, in a part of West Los Angeles which had not yet been changed over to New Plan. I think it had formerly been a coat closet.

I WOULD NOT want anyone to think I disliked the year 2000, as compared with 1970. I liked it and I liked 2001 when it rolled around a couple of weeks after they wakened me. In spite of recurrent spasms of almost unbearable homesickness, I thought that Great Los Angeles at the dawn of the Third Millennium was odds-on the most wonderful place I had ever seen. It was fast and clean and very exciting, even if it was too crowded…and even that was being coped with on a mammoth, venturesome scale. The New Plan parts of town were a joy to an engineer’s heart. If the city government had had the sovereign power to stop immigration for ten years, they could have licked the housing problem. Since they did not have that power, they just had to do their best with the swarms that kept rolling over the Sierras—and their best was spectacular beyond belief and even the failures were colossal.

It was worth sleeping thirty years just to wake up in a time when they had licked the common cold and nobody had a postnasal drip. That meant more to me than the research colony on Venus.

Two things impressed me most, one big, one little. The big one was NullGrav, of course. Back in 1970 I had known about the Babson Institute gravitation research but I had not expected anything to come of it—and nothing had; the basic field theory on which NullGrav is based was developed at the University of Edinburgh. But I had been taught in school that gravitation was something that nobody could ever do anything about, because it was inherent in the very shape of space.

So they changed the shape of space, naturally. Only temporarily and locally, to be sure, but that’s all that’s needed in moving a heavy object. It still has to stay in field relation with Mother Terra, so it’s useless for spaceships—or it is in 2001; I’ve quit making bets about the future. I learned that to make a lift it was still necessary to expend power to overcome the gravity potential, and conversely, to lower something you had to have a power

pack to store all those foot-pounds in, or something would go Phzzt!-Spung! But just to transport something horizontally, say from San Francisco to Great Los Angeles, just lift it once, then float along, no power at all, like an ice skater riding a long edge.

Lovely!

I tried to study the theory of it, but the math starts in where tensor calculus leaves off; it’s not for me. But an engineer is rarely a mathematical physicist and he does not have to be; he simply has to savvy the skinny of a thing well enough to know what it can do in practical applications— know the working parameters. I could learn those.

The “little thing” I mentioned was the changes in female styles made possible by the Sticktite fabrics. I was not startled by mere skin on bathing beaches; you could see that coming in 1970. But the weird things that the ladies could do with Sticktite made my jaw sag.

My grandpappy was born in 1890; I suppose that some of the sights in 1970 would have affected him the same way.

But I liked the fast new world and would have been happy in it if I had not been so bitterly lonely so much of the time. I was out of joint. There were times (in the middle of the night, usually) when I would gladly have swapped it all for one beat-up tomcat, or for a chance to spend an afternoon taking little Ricky to the zoo…or for the comradeship Miles and I had shared when all we had was hard work and hope.

It was still early in 2001 and I wasn’t halfway caught up on my homework, when I began to itch to leave my featherbedded job and get back to the old drawing board. There were so many, many things possible under current art which had been impossible in 1970; I wanted to get busy and design a few dozen.

For example I had expected that there would be automatic secretaries in use—I mean a machine you could dictate to and get back a business letter, spelling, punctuation, and format all perfect, without a human being in the sequence. But there weren’t any. Oh, somebody had invented a machine which could type, but it was suited only to a phonetic language like Esperanto and was useless in a language in which you could say: “Though the tough cough and hiccough plough him through.”

People won’t give up the illogicalities of English to suit the convenience of an inventor. Mohammed must go to the mountain.

If a high-school girl could sort out the cockeyed spelling of English and usually type the right word, how could a machine be taught to do it?

“Impossible” was the usual answer. It was supposed to require human judgment and understanding. But an invention is something that was “impossible” up to then—that’s why governments grant patents.

With memory tubes and the miniaturization now possible—I had been right about the importance of gold as an engineering material—with those two things it would be easy to pack a hundred thousand sound codes into a cubic foot…in other words, to sound-key every word in a Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. But that was unnecessary; ten thousand would be ample. Who expects a stenographer to field a word like “kourbash” or “pyrophyllite”? You spell such words for her if you must use them. Okay, we code the machine to accept spelling when necessary. We sound-code for punctuation…and for various formats…and to look up addresses in a file…and for how many copies…and routing…and provide at least a thousand blank word-codings for special vocabulary used in a business or profession—and make it so that the owner-client could put those special words in himself, spell a word like “stenobenthic” with the memory key depressed and never have to spell it again.

All simple. Just a matter of hooking together gadgets already on the market, then smoothing it into a production model.

The real hitch was homonyms. Dictation Daisy wouldn’t even slow up over that “tough cough and hiccough” sentence because each of those words carries a different sound. But choices like “they’re” and “their,” “right” and “write” would give her trouble.

Did the L. A. Public Library have a dictionary of English homonyms? It did…and I began counting the unavoidable homonym pairs and trying to figure how many of these could be handled by information theory through context statistics and how many would require special coding.

I began to get jittery with frustration. Not only was I wasting thirty hours a week on an utterly useless job, but also I could not do real engineering in a public library. I needed a drafting room, a shop where I could smooth out the bugs, trade catalogues, professional journals, calculating machines, and all the rest.

I decided that I would just have to get at least a subprofessional job. I wasn’t silly enough to think that I was an engineer again; there was too much art I had not yet soaked up—repeatedly I had thought of ways to do something, using something new that I had learned, only to find out at the library that somebody had solved the same problem, neater, better, and cheaper than my own first stab at it and ten or fifteen years earlier.

I needed to get into an engineering office and let these new things soak in through my skin. I had hopes that I could land a job as a junior draftsman.

I knew that they were using powered semiautomatic drafting machines now; I had seen pictures of them even though I had not had one under my hands. But I had a hunch that I could learn to play one in twenty minutes, given the chance, for they were remarkably like an idea I had once had myself: a machine that bore the same relation to the old-fashioned drawing-board-and-T-square method that a typewriter did to writing in longhand.  I had worked it all out in my head, how you could put straight lines or curves anywhere on an easel just by punching keys.

However, in this case I was just as sure that my idea had not been stolen as I was certain that Flexible Frank had been stolen, because my drafting machine had never existed except in my head. Somebody had had the same idea and had developed it logically the same way. When it’s time to railroad, people start railroading.

The Aladdin people, the same firm that made Eager Beaver, made one of the best drawing machines, Drafting Dan. I dipped into my savings, bought a better suit of clothes and a second-hand briefcase, stuffed the latter with newspapers, and presented myself at the Aladdin salesrooms with a view to “buying” one. I asked for a demonstration.

Then, when I got close to a model of Drafting Dan, I had a most upsetting experience. Déjà vu, the psychologists call it—“I have been here before.” The damned thing had been developed in precisely the fashion in which I would have developed it, had I had time to do so…instead of being kidnapped into the Long Sleep.

Don’t ask me exactly why I felt that way. A man knows his own style of work. An art critic will say that a painting is a Rubens or a Rembrandt by the brushwork, the treatment of light, the composition, the choice of pigment, a dozen things. Engineering is not science, it is an art, and there is always a wide range of choices in how to solve engineering problems. An engineering designer “signs” his work by those choices just as surely as a painter does.

Drafting Dan had the flavor of my own technique so strongly that I was quite disturbed by it. I began to wonder if there wasn’t something to telepathy after all.

I was careful to get the number of its first patent. In the state I was in I wasn’t surprised to see that the date on the first one was 1970. I resolved to find out who had invented it. It might have been one of my own teachers, from whom I had picked up some of my style. Or it might be an engineer with whom I had once worked.

The inventor might still be alive. If so, I’d look him up someday…get acquainted with this man whose mind worked just like mine.

But I managed to pull myself together and let the salesman show me how to work it. He hardly need have bothered; Drafting Dan and I were made for each other. In ten minutes I could play it better than he could. At last I reluctantly quit making pretty pictures with it, got list price, discounts, service arrangements, and so forth, then left saying that I would call him, just as he was ready to get my signature on the dotted line. It was a dirty trick, but all I cost him was an hour’s time.

From there I went to the Hired Girl main factory and applied for a job.

I knew that Belle and Miles were no longer with Hired Girl, Inc. In what time I could spare between my job and the compelling necessity to catch up in engineering I had been searching for Belle and Miles and most especially for Ricky. None of the three was listed in the Great Los Angeles telephone system, nor for that matter anywhere in the United States, for I had paid to have an “information” search made at the national office in Cleveland. A quadruple fee, it was, as I had had Belle searched for under both “Gentry” and “Darkin.”

I had the same luck with the Register of Voters for Los Angeles County.

Hired Girl, Inc., in a letter from a seventeenth vice-president in charge of foolish questions, admitted cautiously that they had once had officers by those names thirty years ago but they were unable to help me now.

Picking up a trail thirty years cold is no job for an amateur with little time and less money. I did not have their fingerprints, or I might have tried the FBI. I didn’t know their social-security numbers. My Country ’Tis of Thee had never succumbed to police-state nonsense, so there was no bureau certain to have a dossier on each citizen, nor was I in a position to tap such a file even if there had been.

Perhaps a detective agency, lavishly subsidized, could have dug through utilities records, newspaper files, and God knows what, and traced them down. But I didn’t have the lavish subsidy, nor the talent and time to do it myself.

I finally gave up on Miles and Belle while promising myself that I would, as quickly as I could afford it, put professionals to tracing Ricky. I had already determined that she held no Hired Girl stock and I had written to the Bank of America to see if they held, or ever had held, a trust for her. I got back a form letter informing me that such things were confidential, so I had written again, saying that I was a Sleeper and she was my only surviving relative. That time I got a nice letter, signed by one of the trust officers and saying that he regretted that information concerning trust beneficiaries could not be divulged even to one in my exceptional circumstances, but he felt justified in giving me the negative information that the bank had not at any time through any of its branches held a trust in favor of one Frederica Virginia Gentry.

That seemed to settle one thing. Somehow those birds had managed to get the stock away from little Ricky. My assignment of the stock would

have had to go through the Bank of America, the way I had written it. But it had not. Poor Ricky! We had both been robbed.

I made one more stab at it. The records office of the Superintendent of Instruction in Mojave did have record of a grade-school pupil named Frederica Virginia Gentry…but the named pupil had taken a withdrawal transcript in 1971. Further deponent sayeth not.

It was some consolation to know that somebody somewhere admitted that Ricky had ever existed. But she might have taken that transcript to any of many, many thousand public schools in the United States. How long would it take to write to each of them? And were their records so arranged as to permit them to answer, even supposing they were willing?

In a quarter of a billion people one little girl can drop out of sight like a pebble in the ocean.

BUT THE FAILURE of my search did leave me free to seek a job with Hired Girl, Inc., now that I knew Miles and Belle were not running it. I could have tried any of a hundred automation firms, but Hired Girl and Aladdin were the big names in appliance automatons, as important in their own field as Ford and General Motors had been in the heyday of the ground automobile. I picked Hired Girl partly for sentimental reasons; I wanted to see what my old outfit had grown into.

On Monday, 5 March 2001, I went to their employment office, got into the line for white-collar help, filled out a dozen forms having nothing to do with engineering and one that did…and was told don’t-call-us- we’ll-call-you.

I hung around and managed to bull myself in to see an assistant hiring flunky. He reluctantly looked over the one form that meant anything and told me that my engineering degree meant nothing, since there had been a thirty-year lapse when I had not used my skill.

I pointed out that I had been a Sleeper.

“That makes it even worse. In any case, we don’t hire people over forty-five.”

“But I’m not forty-five. I’m only thirty.” “You were born in 1940. Sorry.”

“What am I supposed to do? Shoot myself ?”

He shrugged. “If I were you, I’d apply for an old-age pension.”

I got out quickly before I gave him some advice. Then I walked three quarters of a mile around to the front entrance and went in. The general manager’s name was Curtis; I asked for him.

I got past the first two layers simply by insisting that I had business with him. Hired Girl, Inc., did not use their own automatons as receptionists; they used real flesh and blood. Eventually I reached a place several stories up and (I judged) about two doors from the boss, and here I encountered a firm pass-gauge type who insisted on knowing my business.

I looked around. It was a largish office with about forty real people in it, as well as a lot of machines. She said sharply, “Well? State your business and I’ll check with Mr. Curtis’ appointment secretary.”

I said loudly, making sure that everybody heard it, “I want to know what he’s going to do about my wife!” Sixty seconds later I was in his private office. He looked up. “Well? What the devil is this nonsense?”

It took half an hour and some old records to convince him that I did not have a wife and that I actually was the founder of the firm. Then things got chummy over drinks and cigars and I met the sales manager and the chief engineer and other heads of departments. “We thought you were dead,” Curtis told me. “In fact, the company’s official history says that you are.”

“Just a rumor. Some other D. B. Davis.”

The sales manager, Jack Galloway, said suddenly, “What are you doing now, Mr. Davis?” “Not much. I’ve, uh, been in the automobile business. But I’m resigning. Why?”

“ ‘Why?’ Isn’t it obvious?” He swung around toward the chief engineer, Mr. McBee. “Hear that, Mac? All you engineers are alike; you wouldn’t know a sales angle if it came up and kissed you. ‘Why?’ Mr. Davis. Because you’re sales copy, that’s why! Because you’re romance. Founder of Firm Comes Back from Grave to Visit Brain Child. Inventor of the First Robot Servant Views Fruits of His Genius.”

I said hastily, “Now wait a minute—I’m not an advertising model nor a grabbie star. I like my privacy. I didn’t come here for that; I came here for a job…in engineering.”

Mr. McBee’s eyebrows went up but he said nothing.

We wrangled for a while. Galloway tried to tell me that it was my simple duty to the firm I had founded. McBee said little, but it was obvious that he did not think I would be any addition to his department—at one point he asked me what I knew about designing solid circuits. I had to admit that my only knowledge of them was from a little reading of nonclassified publications.

Curtis finally suggested a compromise. “See here, Mr. Davis, you obviously occupy a very special position. One might say that you founded not merely this firm but the whole industry. Nevertheless, as Mr. McBee has hinted, the industry has moved on since the year you took the Long Sleep. Suppose we put you on the staff with the title of…uh, ‘Research Engineer Emeritus.’ ”

I hesitated. “What would that mean?”

“Whatever you made it mean. However, I tell you frankly that you would be expected to cooperate with Mr. Galloway. We not only make these things, we have to sell them.”

“Uh, would I have a chance to do any engineering?”

“That’s up to you. You’d have facilities and you could do what you wished.” “Shop facilities?”

Curtis looked at McBee. The chief engineer answered, “Certainly, certainly…within reason, of course.” He had slipped so far into Glasgow speech that I could hardly understand him.

Galloway said briskly, “That’s settled. May I be excused, B.J.? Don’t go away, Mr. Davis—we’re going to get a picture of you with the very first model of Hired Girl.”

And he did. I was glad to see her…the very model I had put together with my own pinkies and lots of sweat. I wanted to see if she still worked, but McBee wouldn’t let me start her up—I don’t think he really believed that I knew how she worked.

I HAD A GOOD time at Hired Girl all through March and April. I had all the professional tools I could want, technical journals, the indispensable trade catalogues, a practical library, a Drafting Dan (Hired Girl did not make a drafting machine themselves, so they used the best on the market, which was Aladdin’s), and the shoptalk of professionals…music to my ears!

I got acquainted especially with Chuck Freudenberg, components assistant chief engineer. For my money Chuck was the only real engineer

there; the rest were overeducated slipstick mechanics…including McBee, for the chief engineer was, I thought, a clear proof that it took more than a

degree and a Scottish accent to make an engineer. After we got better acquainted Chuck admitted that he felt the same way. “Mac doesn’t really like anything new; he would rather do things the way his grandpa did on the bonnie banks of the Clyde.”

“What’s he doing in this job?”

Freudenberg did not know the details, but it seemed that the present firm had been a manufacturing company which had simply rented the patents (my patents) from Hired Girl, Inc. Then about twenty years ago there had been one of those tax-saving mergers, with Hired Girl stock swapped for stock in the manufacturing firm and the new firm taking the name of the one I had founded. Chuck thought that McBee had been hired at that time. “He’s got a piece of it, I think.”

Chuck and I used to sit over beers in the evening and discuss engineering, what the company needed, and the whichness of what. His original interest in me had been that I was a Sleeper. Too many people, I had found, had a queezy interest in Sleepers (as if we were freaks) and I avoided letting people know that I was one. But Chuck was fascinated by the time jump itself and his interest was a healthy one in what the world had been like before he was born, as recalled by a man who literally remembered it as “only yesterday.”

In return he was willing to criticize the new gadgets that were always boiling up in my head, and set me straight when I (as I did repeatedly) would rough out something that was old hat…in 2001 A.D. Under his friendly guidance I was becoming a modern engineer, catching up fast.

But when I outlined to him one April evening my autosecretary idea he said slowly, “Dan, have you done work on this on company time?” “Huh? No, not really. Why?”

“How does your contract read?”

“What? I don’t have one.” Curtis had put me on the payroll and Galloway had taken pictures of me and had a ghost writer asking me silly questions; that was all.

“Mmm…pal, I wouldn’t do anything about this until you are sure where you stand. This is really new. And I think you can make it work.” “I hadn’t worried about that angle.”

“Put it away for a while. You know the shape the company is in. It’s making money and we put out good products. But the only new items we’ve brought out in five years are ones we’ve acquired by license. I can’t get anything new past Mac. But you can bypass Mac and take this to the big boss. So don’t…unless you want to hand it over to the company just for your salary check.”

I took his advice. I continued to design but I burned any drawings I thought were good—I didn’t need them once I had them in my head. I didn’t feel guilty about it; they hadn’t hired me as an engineer, they were paying me to be a show-window dummy for Galloway. When my advertising value was sucked dry, they would give me a month’s pay and a vote of thanks and let me go.

But by then I’d be a real engineer again and able to open my own office. If Chuck wanted to take a flyer I’d take him with me.

Instead of handing my story to the newspapers Jack Galloway played it slow for the national magazines; he wanted Life to do a spread, tying it in with the one they had done a third of a century earlier on the first production model of Hired Girl. Life did not rise to the bait but he did manage to plant it several other places that spring, tying it in with display advertising.

I thought of growing a beard. Then I realized that no one recognized me and would not have cared if they had.

I got a certain amount of crank mail, including one letter from a man who promised me that I would burn eternally in hell for defying God’s plan for my life. I chucked it, while thinking that if God had really opposed what had happened to me, He should never have made cold sleep possible. Otherwise I wasn’t bothered.

But I did get a phone call, on Thursday, 3 May 2001. “Mrs. Schultz is on the line, sir. Will you take the call?”

Schultz? Damnation, I had promised Doughty the last time I had called him that I would take care of that. But I had put it off because I did not want to; I was almost sure it was one of those screwballs who pursued Sleepers and asked them personal questions.

But she had called several times, Doughty had told me, since I had checked out in December. In accordance with the policy of the sanctuary they had refused to give her my address, agreeing merely to pass along messages.

Well, I owed it to Doughty to shut her up. “Put her on.”

“Is this Danny Davis?” My office phone had no screen; she could not see me. “Speaking. Your name is Schultz?”

“Oh, Danny darling, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

I didn’t answer right away. She went on, “Don’t you knowme?” I knew her, all right. It was Belle Gentry.

I MADE A DATE with her.

My first impulse had been to tell her to go to hell and switch off. I had long since realized that revenge was childish; revenge would not bring Pete back and fitting revenge would simply land me in jail. I had hardly thought about Belle and Miles since I had quit looking for them.

But Belle almost certainly knew where Ricky was. So I made a date.

She wanted me to take her to dinner, but I would not do that. I’m not fussy about fine points of etiquette. But eating is something you do only with friends; I would see her but I had no intention of eating or drinking with her. I got her address and told her I would be there that evening at eight.

It was a cheap rental, a walk-up flat in a part of town (lower La Brea) not yet converted to New Plan. Before I buzzed her door I knew that she had not hung onto what she had bilked me out of, or she would not have been living there.

And when I saw her I realized that revenge was much too late; she and the years had managed it for me.

Belle was not less than fifty-three by the age she had claimed, and probably closer to sixty in fact. Between geriatrics and endocrinology a woman who cared to take the trouble could stay looking thirty for at least thirty extra years, and lots of them did. There were grabbie stars who boasted of being grandmothers while still playing ingénue leads.

Belle had not taken the trouble.

She was fat and shrill and kittenish. It was evident that she still considered her body her principal asset, for she was dressed in a Sticktite negligee which, while showing much too much of her, also showed that she was female, mammalian, overfed, and underexercised.

She was not aware of it. That once-keen brain was fuzzy; all that was left was her conceit and her overpowering confidence in herself. She threw herself on me with squeals of joy and came close to kissing me before I could unwind her.

I pushed her wrists back. “Take it easy, Belle.”

“But, darling! I’m so happy—so excited—and so thrilled to see you!”

“I’ll bet.” I had gone there resolved to keep my temper…just find out what I wanted to know and get out. But I was finding it difficult. “Remember

how you saw me last? Drugged to my eyebrows so that you could stuff me into cold sleep.”

She looked puzzled and hurt. “But, sweetheart, we only did it for your own good! You were so ill.” I think she believed it. “Okay, okay. Where’s Miles? You’re Mrs. Schultz now?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Didn’t you know?

“Know what?”

“Poor Miles…poor, dear Miles. He lived less than two years, Danny boy, after you left us.” Her expression changed suddenly. “The frallup cheated me!”

“That’s too bad.” I wondered how he had died. Did he fall or was he pushed? Arsenic soup? I decided to stick to the main issue before she jumped the track completely. “What became of Ricky?”

“Ricky?”

“Miles’ little girl. Frederica.”

“Oh, that horrible little brat! How should I know? She went to live with her grandmother.” “Where? And what was her grandmother’s name?”

“Where? Tucson—or Yuma—or some place dull like that. It might have been Indio. Darling, I don’t want to talk about that impossible child— I want

to talk about us.”

“In a moment. What was her grandmother’s name?”

“Danny boy, you’re being very tiresome. Why in the world should I remember something like that?” “What was it?”

“Oh, Hanolon…or Haney…or Heinz. Or it might have been Hinckley. Don’t be dull, dear. Let’s have a drink. Let’s drink a toast to our happy reunion.”

I shook my head. “I don’t use the stuff.” This was almost true. Having discovered that it was an unreliable friend in a crisis, I usually limited myself to a beer with Chuck Freudenberg.

“How very dull, dearest. You won’t mind if I have one.” She was already pouring it—straight gin, the lonely girl’s friend. But before she downed it she picked up a plastic pill bottle and rolled two capsules into her palm. “Have one?”

I recognized the striped casing—euphorion. It was supposed to be nontoxic and non-habit-forming, but opinions differed. There was agitation to class it with morphine and the barbiturates. “Thanks. I’m happy now.”

“How nice.” She took both of them, chased them with gin. I decided if I was to learn anything at all I had better talk fast; soon she would be nothing but giggles.

I took her arm and sat her down on her couch, then sat down across from her. “Belle, tell me about yourself. Bring me up to date. How did you and Miles make out with the Mannix people?”

“Uh? But we didn’t.” She suddenly flared up. “That was your fault!” “Huh? My fault? I wasn’t even there.”

“Of course it was your fault. That monstrous thing you built out of an old wheelchair…that was what they wanted. And then it was gone.” “Gone? Where was it?”

She peered at me with piggy, suspicious eyes. “You ought to know. You took it.”

“Me? Belle, are you crazy? I couldn’t take anything. I was frozen stiff, in cold sleep. Where was it? And when did it disappear?” It fitted in with my own notions that somebody must have swiped Flexible Frank, if Belle and Miles had not made use of him. But out of all the billions on the globe, I was the one who certainly had not. I had not seen Frank since that disastrous night when they had outvoted me. “Tell me about it, Belle. Where was

it? And what made you think I took it?”

“It had to be you. Nobody else knew it was important. That pile of junk! I told Miles not to put it in the garage.”

“But if somebody did swipe it, I doubt if they could make it work. You still had all the notes and instructions and drawings.”

“No, we didn’t either. Miles, the fool, had stuffed them all inside it the night we had to move it to protect it.”

I did not fuss about the word “protect.” Instead I was about to say that he couldn’t possibly have stuffed several pounds of paper into Flexible Frank; he was already stuffed like a goose—when I remembered that I had built a temporary shelf across the bottom of his wheelchair base to hold tools while I worked on him. A man in a hurry might very well have emptied my working files into that space.

No matter. The crime, or crimes, had been committed thirty years ago. I wanted to find out how Hired Girl, Inc., had slipped away from them.

“After the Mannix deal fell through what did you do with the company?”

“We ran it, of course. Then when Jake quit us Miles said we had to shut down. Miles was a weakling…and I never liked that Jake Schmidt. Sneaky. Always asking why you had quit…as if we could have stopped you! I wanted us to hire a good foreman and keep going. The company would have been worth more. But Miles insisted.”

“What happened then?”

“Why, then we licensed to Geary Manufacturing, of course. You know that; you’re working there now.”

I did know that; the full corporate name of Hired Girl was now “Hired Girl Appliances and Geary Manufacturing, Inc.”—even though the signs read simply “Hired Girl.” I seemed to have found out all I needed to know that this flabby old wreck could tell me.

But I was curious on another point. “You two sold your stock after you licensed to Geary?”

“Huh? Whatever put that silly notion in your head?” Her expression broke and she began to blubber, pawing feebly for a handkerchief, then giving up and letting the tears go. “He cheated me! He cheated me! The dirty shiker cheated me…he kinked me out of it.” She snuffled and added meditatively, “You all cheated me…and you were the worst of the lot, Danny boy. After I had been so good to you.” She started to bawl again.

I decided that euphorion wasn’t worth whatever it cost. Or maybe she enjoyed crying. “How did he cheat you, Belle?”

“What? Why, you know. He left it all to that dirty brat of his…after all that he had promised me…after I nursed him when he hurt so. And she wasnt even his own daughter. That proves it.”

It was the first good news I had had all evening. Apparently Ricky had received one good break, even if they had grabbed my stock away from

her earlier. So I got back to the main point. “Belle, what was Ricky’s grandmother’s name? And where did they live?” “Where did who live?”

“Ricky’s grandmother.” “Who’s Ricky?”

“Miles’ daughter. Try to think, Belle. It’s important.” That set her off. She pointed a finger at me and shrilled, “I know you. You were in love with her, that’s what. That dirty little sneak…her and that horrible cat.”

I felt a burst of anger at the mention of Pete. But I tried to suppress it. I simply grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. “Brace up, Belle. I want to know just one thing. Where did they live? How did Miles address letters when he wrote to them?”

She kicked at me. “I won’t even talk to you! You’ve been perfectly stinking ever since you got here.” Then she appeared to sober almost instantly and said quietly, “I don’t know. The grandmother’s name was Haneker, or something like that. I only saw her once, in court, when they came to see about the will.”

“When was that?”

“Right after Miles died, of course.” “When did Miles die, Belle?”

She switched again. “You want to know too much. You’re as bad as the sheriffs…questions, questions, questions!” Then she looked up and said pleadingly, “Let’s forget everything and just be ourselves. There’s just you and me now, dear…and we still have our lives ahead of us. A woman isn’t old at thirty-nine…Schultzie said I was the youngest thing he ever saw—and that old goat had seen plenty, let me tell you! We could be so happy, dear. We—”

I had had all I could stand, even to play detective. “I’ve got to go, Belle.” “What, dear? Why, it’s early…and we’ve got all night ahead of us. I thought—” “I don’t care what you thought. I’ve got to leave right now.”

“Oh dear! Such a pity. When will I see you again? Tomorrow? I’m terribly busy but I’ll break my engagements and—” “I won’t be seeing you again, Belle.” I left.

I never did see her again.

As soon as I was home I took a hot bath, scrubbing hard. Then I sat down and tried to add up what I had found out, if anything. Belle seemed to think that Ricky’s grandmother’s name began with an “H”—if Belle’s maunderings meant anything at all, a matter highly doubtful—and that they had lived in one of the desert towns in Arizona, or possibly California. Well, perhaps professional skip-tracers could make something of that.

Or maybe not. In any case it would be tedious and expensive; I’d have to wait until I could afford it. Did I know anything else that signified?

Miles had died (so Belle said) around 1972. If he had died in this county I ought to be able to find the date in a couple of hours of searching, and after that I ought to be able to track down the hearing on his will…if there had been one, as Belle had implied. Through that I might be able to find out where Ricky had lived then. If courts kept such records. (I didn’t know.) If I had gained anything by cutting the lapse down to twenty-eight years and locating the town she had lived in that long ago.

If there was any point in looking for a woman now forty-one and almost certainly married and with a family. The jumbled ruin that had once been Belle Darkin had shaken me; I was beginning to realize what thirty years could mean. Not that I feared that Ricky grown up would be anything but gracious and good…but would she even remember me? Oh, I did not think she would have forgotten me entirely, but wasn’t it likely that I would be just a faceless person, the man she had sometimes called “Uncle Danny” and who had that nice cat?

Wasn’t I, in my own way, living in a fantasy of the past quite as much as Belle was?

Oh well, it couldn’t hurt to try again to find her. At the least, we could exchange Christmas cards each year. Her husband could not very well object to that.

THE NEXT MORNING was Friday, the fourth of May. Instead of going into the office I went down to the county Hall of Records. They were moving everything and told me to come back next month, so I went to the office of the Times and got a crick in my neck from a microscanner. But I did find out that if Miles had died any date between twelve and thirty-six months after I had been tucked in the freezer, he had not done so in Los Angeles County—if the death notices were correct.

Of course there was no law requiring him to die in L. A. County. You can die anyplace. They’ve never managed to regulate that.

Perhaps Sacramento had consolidated state records. I decided I would have to check someday, thanked the Times librarian, went out to lunch, and eventually got back to Hired Girl, Inc.

There were two phone calls and a note waiting, all from Belle. I got as far in the note as “Dearest Dan,” tore it up and told the desk not to accept any calls for me from Mrs. Schultz. Then I went over to the accounting office and asked the chief accountant if there was any way to check up on past ownership of a retired stock issue. He said he would try and I gave him the numbers, from memory, of the original Hired Girl stock I had once held. It took no feat of memory; we had issued exactly one thousand shares to start with and I had held the first five hundred and ten, and Belle’s “engagement present” had come off the front end.

I went back to my cubbyhole and found McBee waiting for me. “Where have you been?” he wanted to know.

“Out and around. Why?”

“That’s hardly a sufficient answer. Mr. Galloway was in twice today looking for you. I was forced to tell him I did not know where you were.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! If Galloway wants me he’ll find me eventually. If he spent half the time peddling the merchandise on its merits that he does trying to think up cute new angles, the firm would be better off.” Galloway was beginning to annoy me. He was supposed to be in charge of selling, but it seemed to me that he concentrated on kibitzing the advertising agency that handled our account. But I’m prejudiced; engineering is the only part that interests me. All the rest strikes me as paper shuffling, mere overhead.

I knew what Galloway wanted me for and, to tell the truth, I had been dragging my feet. He wanted to dress me up in 1900 costumes and take pictures. I had told him that he could take all the pix he wanted of me in 1970 costumes, but that 1900 was twelve years before my father was born. He said nobody would know the difference, so I told him what the fortuneteller told the cop. He said I didn’t have the right attitude.

These people who deal in fancification to fool the public think nobody can read and write but themselves. McBee said, “You don’t have the right attitude, Mr. Davis.”

“So? I’m sorry.”

“You’re in an odd position. You are charged to my department, but I’m supposed to make you available to advertising and sales when they need you. From here on I think you had better use the time clock like everyone else…and you had better check with me whenever you leave the office during working hours. Please see to it.”

I counted to ten slowly, using binary notation. “Mac, do you use the time clock?” “Eh? Of course not. I’m the chief engineer.”

“So you are. It says so right over on that door. But see here, Mac, I was chief engineer of this bolt bin before you started to shave. Do you really think that I am going to knuckle under to a time clock?”

He turned red. “Possibly not. But I can tell you this: If you don’t, you won’t draw your check.” “So? You didn’t hire me; you can’t fire me.”

“Mmm…we’ll see. I can at least transfer you out of my department and over to advertising where you belong. If you belong anywhere.” He glanced at my drafting machine. “You certainly aren’t producing anything here. I don’t fancy having that expensive machine tied up any longer.” He nodded briskly. “Good day.”

I followed him out. An Office Boy rolled in and placed a large envelope in my basket, but I did not wait to see what it was; I went down to the staff coffee bar and fumed. Like a lot of other triple-ought-gauge minds, Mac thought creative work could be done by the numbers. No wonder the old firm hadn’t produced anything new for years.

Well, to hell with him. I hadn’t planned to stick around much longer anyway.

An hour or so later I wandered back up and found an interoffice mail envelope in my basket. I opened it, thinking that Mac had decided to throw the switch on me at once.

But it was from accounting; it read:

Dear Mr. Davis:

Re: the stock you inquired about.

Dividends on the larger block were paid from first quarter 1971 to second quarter 1980 on the original shares, to a trust held in favor of a party named Heinicke. Our reorganization took place in 1980 and the abstract at hand is somewhat obscure, but it appears that the equivalent shares (after reorganization) were sold to Cosmopolitan Insurance Group, which still holds them. Regarding the smaller block of stock, it was held (as you suggested) by Belle D. Gentry until 1972, when it was assigned to Sierra Acceptances Corporation, who broke it up and sold it piecemeal “over the counter.” The exact subsequent history of each share and its equivalent after reorganization could be traced if needed, but more time would be required.

If this department can be of any further assistance to you, please feel free to call on us.

Y. E. Reuther, Ch. Acct. I called Reuther and thanked him and told him that I had all I wanted. I knew now that my assignment to Ricky had never been effective. Since the

transfer of my stock that did show in the record was clearly fraudulent, the deal whiffed of Belle; this third party could have been either another of her stooges or possibly a fictitious person—she was probably already planning on swindling Miles by then.

Apparently she had been short of cash after Miles’ death and had sold off the smaller block. But I did not care what had happened to any of the stock once it passed out of Belle’s control. I had forgotten to ask Reuther to trace Miles’ stock…that might give a lead to Ricky even though she no longer held it. But it was late Friday already; I’d ask him Monday. Right now I wanted to open the large envelope still waiting for me, for I had spotted the return address.

I had written to the patent office early in March about the original patents on both Eager Beaver and Drafting Dan. My conviction that the original

Eager Beaver was just another name for Flexible Frank had been somewhat shaken by my first upsetting experience with Drafting Dan; I had considered the possibility that the same unknown genius who had conceived Dan so nearly as I had imagined him might also have developed a parallel equivalent of Flexible Frank. The theory was bulwarked by the fact that both patents had been taken out the same year and both patents were held (or had been held until they expired) by the same company, Aladdin.

But I had to know. And if this inventor was still alive I wanted to meet him. He could teach me a thing or four.

I had written first to the patent office, only to get a form letter back that all records of expired patents were now kept in the National Archives in Carlsbad Caverns. So I wrote the Archives and got another form letter with a schedule of fees. So I wrote a third time, sending a postal order (no personal checks, please) for prints of the whole works on both patents—descriptions, claims, drawings, histories.

This fat envelope looked like my answer.

The one on top was 4,307,909, the basic for Eager Beaver. I turned to the drawings, ignoring for the moment both description and claims. Claims aren’t important anyway except in court; the basic notion in writing up claims on an application for patent is to claim the whole wide world in the broadest possible terms, then let the patent examiners chew you down—this is why patent attorneys are born. The descriptions, on the other hand, have to be factual, but I can read drawings faster than I can read descriptions.

I had to admit that it did not look too much like Flexible Frank. It was better than Flexible Frank; it could do more and some of the linkages were simpler. The basic notion was the same—but that had to be true, as a machine controlled by Thorsen tubes and ancestral to Eager Beaver had to be based on the same principles I had used in Flexible Frank.

I could almost see myself developing just such a device…sort of a second-stage model of Frank. I had once had something of the sort in mind— Frank without Frank’s household limitations.

I finally got around to looking up the inventor’s name on the claims and description sheets. I recognized it all right. It was D. B. Davis.

I looked at it while whistling “Time on My Hands” slowly and off key. So Belle had lied again. I wondered if there was any truth at all in that spate of drivel she had fed me. Of course Belle was a pathological liar, but I had read somewhere that pathological liars usually have a pattern, starting from the truth and embellishing it, rather than indulging in complete fancy. Quite evidently my model of Frank had never been “stolen” but had been turned over to some other engineer to smooth up, then the application had been made in my name.

But the Mannix deal had never gone through; that one fact was certain, since I knew it from company records. But Belle had said that their failure to produce Flexible Frank as contracted had soured the Mannix deal.

Had Miles grabbed Frank for himself, letting Belle think that it had been stolen? Or restolen, rather.

In that case…I dropped guessing at it, as hopeless, more hopeless than the search for Ricky. I might have to take a job with Aladdin before I would be able to ferret out where they had gotten the basic patent and who had benefited by the deal. It probably was not worth it, since the patent was expired, Miles was dead, and Belle, if she had gained a dime out of it, had long since thrown it away. I had satisfied myself on the one point important to me, the thing I had set out to prove; i.e., that I myself was the original inventor. My professional pride was salved and who cares about money when three meals a day are taken care of ? Not me.

So I turned to 4,307,910, the first Drafting Dan.

The drawings were a delight. I couldn’t have planned it better myself; this boy really had it. I admired the economy of the linkages and the clever way the circuits had been used to reduce the moving parts to a minimum. Moving parts are like the vermiform appendix; a source of trouble to be done away with whenever possible.

He had even used an electric typewriter for his keyboard chassis, giving credit on the drawing to an IBM patent series. That was smart, that was engineering: never reinvent something that you can buy down the street.

I had to know who this brainy boy was, so I turned to the papers. It was D. B. Davis.

AFTER QUITE A LONG time I phoned Dr. Albrecht. They rounded him up and I told him who I was, since my office phone had no visual. “I recognized your voice,” he answered. “Hi there, son. How are you getting along with your new job?”

“Well enough. They haven’t offered me a partnership yet.”

“Give them time. Happy otherwise? Find yourself fitting back in?”

“Oh, sure! If I had known what a great place here and now is I’d have taken the Sleep earlier. You couldn’t hire me to go back to 1970.”

“Oh, come now! I remember that year pretty well. I was a kid then on a farm in Nebraska. I used to hunt and fish. I had fun. More than I have now.” “Well, to each his own. I like it now. But look, Doc, I didn’t call up just to talk philosophy; I’ve got a little problem.”

“Well, let’s have it. It ought to be a relief; most people have big problems.” “Doc? Is it at all possible for the Long Sleep to cause amnesia?”

He hesitated before replying. “It is conceivably possible. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a case, as such. I mean unconnected with other causes.” “What are the things that cause amnesia?”

“Any number of things. The commonest, perhaps, is the patient’s own subconscious wish. He forgets a sequence of events, or rearranges them, because the facts are unbearable to him. That’s a functional amnesia in the raw. Then there is the old-fashioned knock on the head— amnesia from trauma. Or it might be amnesia through suggestion… under drugs or hypnosis. What’s the matter, bub? Can’t you find your checkbook?”

“It’s not that. So far as I know, I’m getting along just fine now. But I can’t get some things straight that happened before I took the Sleep…and it’s got me worried.”

“Mmm…any possibility of any of the causes I mentioned?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Uh, all of them, except maybe the bump on the head…and even that might have happened while I was drunk.”

“I neglected to mention,” he said dryly, “the commonest temporary amnesia—pulling a blank while under the affluence of incohol. See here, son, why don’t you come see me and we’ll talk it over in detail? If I can’t tag what is biting you—I’m not a psychiatrist, you know—I can turn you over to a hypno-analyst who will peel back your memory like an onion and tell you why you were late to school on the fourth of February your second-grade year. But he’s pretty expensive, so why not give me a whirl first?”

I said, “Cripes, Doc, I’ve bothered you too much already…and you are pretty stuffy about taking money.” “Son, I’m always interested in my people; they’re all the family I have.”

So I put him off by saying that I would call him the first of the week if I wasn’t straightened out. I wanted to think about it anyhow.

Most of the lights went out except in my office; a Hired Girl, scrub-woman type, looked in, twigged that the room was still occupied, and rolled silently away. I still sat there.

Presently Chuck Freudenberg stuck his head in and said, “I thought you left long ago. Wake up and finish your sleep at home.”

I looked up. “Chuck, I’ve got a wonderful idea. Let’s buy a barrel of beer and two straws.”

He considered it carefully. “Well, it’s Friday…and I always like to have a head on Monday; it lets me know what day it is.” “Carried and so ordered. Wait a second while I stuff some things in this briefcase.”

We had some beers, then we had some food, then we had more beers at a place where the music was good, then we moved on to another place where there was no music and the booths had hush linings and they didn’t disturb you as long as you ordered something about once an hour. We talked. I showed him the patent records.

Chuck looked over the Eager Beaver prototype. “That’s a real nice job, Dan. I’m proud of you, boy. I’d like your autograph.” “But look at this one.” I gave him the drafting-machine patent papers.

“Some ways this one is even nicer. Dan, do you realize that you have probably had more influence on the present state of the art than, well, than Edison had in his period? You know that, boy?”

“Cut it out, Chuck; this is serious.” I gestured abruptly at the pile of photostats. “Okay, so I’m responsible for one of them. But I cant be responsible for the other one. I didn’t do it…unless I’m completely mixed up about my own life before I took the Sleep. Unless I’ve got amnesia.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past twenty minutes. But you don’t seem to have any open circuits. You’re no crazier than is normal in an engineer.”

I banged the table, making the steins dance. “I’ve got to know!” “Steady there. So what are you going to do?”

“Huh?” I pondered it. “I’m going to pay a psychiatrist to dig it out of me.”

He sighed. “I thought you might say that. Now look, Dan, let’s suppose you pay this brain mechanic to do this and he reports that nothing is wrong, your memory is in fine shape, and all your relays are closed. What then?”

“That’s impossible.”

“That’s what they told Columbus. You haven’t even mentioned the most likely explanation.” “Huh? What?”

Without answering he signaled the waiter and told it to bring back the big phone book, extended area. I said, “What’s the matter? You calling the wagon for me?”

“Not yet.” He thumbed through the enormous book, then stopped and said, “Dan, scan this.”

I looked. He had his finger on “Davis.” There were columns of Davises. But where he had his finger there were a dozen “D. B. Davises” —from “Dabney” to “Duncan.”

There were three “Daniel B. Davises.” One of them was me.

 “That’s from less than seven million people,” he pointed out. “Want to try your luck on more than two hundred and fifty million?” “It doesn’t prove anything,” I said feebly.

“No,” he agreed, “it doesn’t. It would be quite a coincidence, I readily agree, if two engineers with such similar talents happened to be working on the same sort of thing at the same time and just happened to have the same last name and the same initials. By the laws of statistics we could probably approximate just how unlikely it is that it would happen. But people forget—especially those who ought to know better, such as yourself—

that while the laws of statistics tell you how unlikely a particular coincidence is, they state just as firmly that coincidences do happen. This looks like one. I like that a lot better than I like the theory that my beer buddy has slipped his cams. Good beer buddies are hard to come by.”

“What do you think I ought to do?”

“The first thing to do is not to waste your time and money on a psychiatrist until you try the second thing. The second thing is to find out the first name of this ‘D. B. Davis’ who filed this patent. There will be some easy way to do that. Likely as not his first name will be ‘Dexter.’ Or even ‘Dorothy.’ But don’t trip a breaker if it is ‘Daniel,’ because the middle name might be ‘Berzowski’ with a social-security number different from yours. And the third thing to do, which is really the first, is to forget it for now and order another round.”

So we did, and talked of other things, particularly women. Chuck had a theory that women were closely related to machinery, both utterly unpredictable by logic. He drew graphs on the tabletop in beer to prove his thesis.

Sometime later I said suddenly, “If there were real time travel, I know what I would do.” “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“About my problem. Look, Chuck, I got here—got to ‘now’ I mean— by a sort of half-baked, horse-and-buggy time travel. But the trouble is I can’t go back. All the things that are worrying me happened thirty years ago. I’d go back and dig out the truth…if there were such a thing as real time travel.”

He stared at me. “But there is.What?

He suddenly sobered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I said, “Maybe not, but you already have said it. Now you’d better tell me what you meant before I empty this here stein over your head.” “Forget it, Dan. I made a slip.”

“Talk!”

“That’s just what I can’t do.” He glanced around. No one was near us. “It’s classified.”

“Time travel classified? Good God, why?

“Hell, boy, didn’t you ever work for the government? They’d classify sex if they could. There doesn’t have to be a reason; it’s just their policy. But it

is classified and I’m bound by it. So lay off.”

“But—Quit fooling around about it, Chuck; this is important to me. Terribly important.” When he didn’t answer and looked stubborn I said, “You

can tell me. Shucks, I used to have a ‘Q’ clearance myself. Never suspended, either. It’s just that I’m no longer with the government.” “What’s a ‘Q’ clearance?”

I explained and presently he nodded. You mean an ‘Alpha’ status. You must have been hot stuff, boy; I only rated a ‘Beta.’ ” “Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Huh? You know why. Regardless of your rated status, you don’t have the necessary ‘Need to Know’ qualification.” “The hell I don’t! ‘Need to Know’ is what I’ve got most of.”

But he wouldn’t budge, so finally I said in disgust, “I don’t think there is such a thing. I think you just had a belch back up on you.” He stared at me solemnly for a while, then he said, “Danny.”

“Huh?”

“I’m going to tell you. Just remember your ‘Alpha’ status, boy. I’m going to tell you because it can’t hurt anything and I want you to realize that it

couldn’t possibly be of use to you in your problem. It’s time travel, all right, but it’s not practical. You can’t use it.” “Why not?”

“Give me a chance, will you? They never smoothed the bugs out of it and it’s not even theoretically possible that they ever will. It’s of no practical value whatsoever, even for research. It’s a mere by-product of NullGrav— that’s why they classified it.”

“But, hell, NullGrav is declassified.”

“What’s that got to do with it? If this was commercial, too, maybe they’d unwrap it. But shut up.”

I’m afraid I didn’t, but I’d better tell this as if I had. During Chuck’s senior year at the University of Colorado—Boulder, that is—he had earned extra money as a lab assistant. They had a big cryogenics lab there and at first he had worked in that. But the school had a juicy defense contract concerned with the Edinburgh field theory and they had built a big new physics laboratory in the mountains out of town. Chuck was reassigned there to Professor Twitchell—Dr. Hubert Twitchell, the man who just missed the Nobel Prize and got nasty about it.

“Twitch got the notion that if he polarized around another axis he could reverse the gravitational field instead of leveling it off. Nothing happened. So he fed what he had done back into the computer and got wild-eyed at the results. He never showed them to me, of course. He put two silver dollars into the test cage—they still used hard money around those parts then—after making me mark them. He punched the solenoid button and they disappeared.

“Now that is not much of a trick,” Chuck went on. “Properly, he should have followed up by making them reappear out of the nose of a little boy who volunteers to come up on the stage. But he seemed satisfied, so I was—I was paid by the hour.

“A week later one of those cartwheels reappeared. Just one. But before that, one afternoon while I was cleaning up after he had gone home, a guinea pig showed up in the cage. It didn’t belong in the lab and I hadn’t seen it around before, so I took it over to the bio lab on my way home. They counted and weren’t short any pigs, although it’s hard to be certain with guinea pigs, so I took it home and made a pet out of it.

“After that single silver dollar came back Twitch got so worked up he quit shaving. Next time he used two guinea pigs from the bio lab. One of them looked awfully familiar to me, but I didn’t see it long because he pushed the panic button and they both disappeared.

“When one of them came back about ten days later—the one that didn’t look like mine—Twitch knew for sure that he had it. Then the resident O- in-C for the department of defense came around—a chair-type colonel who used to be a professor himself, of botany. Very military type… Twitch had no use for him. This colonel swore us both to double-dyed secrecy, over and above our ‘status’ oaths. He seemed to think that he had the greatest thing in military logistics since Caesar invented the carbon copy. His idea was that you could send divisions forward or back to a battle you had lost, or were going to lose, and save the day. The enemy would never figure out what had happened. He was crazy in hearts and spades, of course…and he didn’t get the star he was bucking for. But the ‘Critically Secret’ classification he stuck on it stayed, so far as I know, right up to the present. I’ve never seen a disclosure on it.”

“It might have some military use,” I argued, “it seems to me, if you could engineer it to take a division of soldiers at a time. No, wait a minute, I see the hitch. You always had ’em paired. It would take two divisions, one to go forward, one to go back. One division you would lose entirely… I suppose it would be more practical to have a division at the right place at the right time in the first place.”

“You’re right, but your reasons are wrong. You don’t have to use two divisions or two guinea pigs or two anything. You simply have to match the masses. You could use a division of men and a pile of rocks that weighed as much. It’s an action-reaction situation, corollary with Newton’s Third

Law.” He started drawing in the beer drippings again. “MV equals mv…the basic rocket-ship formula. The cognate time-travel formula is MT equals

mt.”

“I still don’t see the hitch. Rocks are cheap.”

“Use your head, Danny. With a rocket ship you can aim the kinkin’ thing. But which direction is last week? Point to it. Just try. You haven’t the slightest idea which mass is going back and which one is going forward. There’s no way to orient the equipment.”

I shut up. It would be embarrassing to a general to expect a division of fresh shock troops and get nothing but a pile of gravel. No wonder the ex- prof never made brigadier. But Chuck was still talking:

“You treat the two masses like the plates of a condenser, bringing them up to the same temporal potential. Then you discharge them on a

damping curve that is effectively vertical. Smacko!—one of them heads for the middle of next year, the other one is history. But you never know which one. But that’s not the worst of it; you can’t come back.”

“Huh? Who wants to come back?”

“Look, what use is it for research if you can’t come back? Or for commerce? Either way you jump, your money is no good and you can’t possibly get in touch with where you started. No equipment—and believe me it takes equipment and power. We took power from the Arco reactors. Expensive…that’s another drawback.”

“You could get back,” I pointed out, “with cold sleep.”

“Huh? If you went to the past. You might go the other way; you never know. If you went a short enough time back so that they had cold sleep…no farther back than the war. But what’s the point of that? You want to know something about 1980, say, you ask somebody or you look it up in old newspapers. Now if there was some way to photograph the Crucifixion…but there isn’t. Not possible. Not only couldn’t you get back, but there isn’t that much power on the globe. There’s an inverse-square law tied up in it too.”

“Nevertheless, some people would try it just for the hell of it. Didn’t anybody ever ride it?” Chuck glanced around again. “I’ve talked too much already.”

“A little more won’t hurt.”

“I think three people tried it. I think. One of them was an instructor. I was in the lab when Twitch and this bird, Leo Vincent, came in; Twitch told me I could go home. I hung around outside. After a while Twitch came out and Vincent didn’t. So far as I know, he’s still in there. He certainly wasn’t teaching at Boulder after that.”

“How about the other two?”

“Students. They all three went in together; only Twitch came out. But one of them was in class the next day, whereas the other one was missing for a week. Figure it out yourself.”

“Weren’t you ever tempted?”

“Me? Does my head look flat? Twitch suggested that it was almost my duty, in the interests of science, to volunteer. I said no, thanks; I’d take a short beer instead…but that I would gladly throw the switch for him. He didn’t take me up on it.”

“I’d take a chance on it. I could check up on what’s worrying me…and then come back again by cold sleep. It would be worth it.”

Chuck sighed deeply. “No more beer for you, my friend; you’re drunk. You didn’t listen to me. One,”—he started making tallies on the tabletop

—“you have no way of knowing that you’d go back; you might go forward instead.”

“I’d risk that. I like now a lot better than I liked then; I might like thirty years from now still better.”

“Okay, so take the Long Sleep again; it’s safer. Or just sit tight and wait for it to roll around; that’s what I’m going to do. But quit interrupting me.

Two, even if you did go back, you might miss 1970 by quite a margin. So far as I know, Twitch was shooting in the dark; I don’t think he had it calibrated. But of course I was just the flunky. Three, that lab was in a stand of pine trees and it was built in 1980. Suppose you come out ten years before it was built in the middle of a western yellow pine? Ought to make quite an explosion, about like a cobalt bomb, huh? Only you wouldn’t know it.”

“But—As a matter of fact, I don’t see why you would come out anywhere near the lab. Why not to the spot in outer space corresponding to where the lab used to be—I mean where it was…or rather—”

“You don’t mean anything. You stay on the world line you were on. Don’t worry about the math; just remember what that guinea pig did. But if you go back before the lab was built, maybe you wind up in a tree. Four, how could you get back to now even with cold sleep, even if you did go the right way, arrive at the right time, and live through it?”

“Huh? I did once, why not twice?”

“Sure. But what are you going to use for money?”

I opened my mouth and closed it. That one made me feel foolish. I had had the money once; I had it no longer. Even what I had saved (not nearly enough) I could not take with me—shucks, even if I robbed a bank (an art I knew nothing about) and took a million of the best back with me, I couldn’t spend it in 1970. I’d simply wind up in jail for trying to shove funny money. They had even changed the shape, not to mention serial numbers, dates, colors, and designs. “Maybe I’d just have to save it up.”

“Good boy. And while you were saving it, you’d probably wind up here and now again without half trying…but minus your hair and your teeth.” “Okay, okay. But let’s go back to that last point. Was there ever a big explosion on that spot? Where the lab was?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I wouldnt wind up in a tree—because I didnt. Follow me?”

“I’m three jumps ahead of you. The old time paradox again, only I won’t buy it. I’ve thought about theory of time, too, maybe more than you have.

You’ve got it just backward. There wasn’t any explosion and you aren’t going to wind up in a tree…because you aren’t ever going to make the jump. Do you follow me?

“But suppose I did?”

“You won’t. Because of my fifth point. It’s the killer, so listen closely. You ain’t about to make any such jump because the whole thing is classified and you cant. They won’t let you. So let’s forget it, Danny. It’s been a very interesting intellectual evening and the FBI will be looking for me in the morning. So let’s have one more round and Monday morning if I’m still out of jail I’ll phone the chief engineer over at Aladdin and find out the first name of this other ‘D. B. Davis’ character and who he was or is. He might even be working there and, if so, we’ll have lunch with him and talk shop. I

want you to meet Springer, the chief over at Aladdin, anyway; he’s a good boy. And forget this time-travel nonsense; they’ll never get the bugs out of it. I should never have mentioned it…and if you ever say I did I’ll look you square in the eye and call you a liar. I might need my classified status again someday.”

So we had another beer. By the time I was home and had taken a shower and had washed some of the beer out of my system I knew he was right. Time travel was about as practical a solution to my difficulties as cutting your throat to cure a headache. More important, Chuck would find out what I wanted to know from Mr. Springer just over chops and a salad, no sweat, no expense, no risk. And I liked the year I was living in.

When I climbed into bed I reached out and got the week’s stack of papers. The Times came to me by tube each morning, now that I was a solid citizen. I didn’t read it very much, because whenever I got my head soaked full of some engineering problem, which was usually, the daily fripperies you find in the news merely annoyed me, either by boring me or, worse still, by being interesting enough to distract my mind from its proper work.

Nevertheless, I never threw out a newspaper until I had at least glanced at the headlines and checked the vital-statistics column, the latter not for births, deaths, and marriages, but simply for “withdrawals,” people coming out of cold sleep. I had a notion that someday I would see the name of someone I had known back then, and then I would go around and say hello, bid him welcome, and see if I could give him a hand. The chances were against it, of course, but I kept on doing it and it always gave me a feeling of satisfaction.

I think that subconsciously I thought of all other Sleepers as my “kinfolk,” the way anybody who once served in the same outfit is your buddy, at least to the extent of a drink.

There wasn’t much in the papers, except the ship that was still missing between here and Mars, and that was not news but a sad lack of it. Nor did I spot any old friends among the newly awakened Sleepers. So I lay back and waited for the light to go out.

ABOUT THREE IN the morning I sat up very suddenly, wide awake. The light came on and I blinked at it. I had had a very odd dream, not quite a nightmare but nearly, of having failed to notice little Ricky in the vital statistics.

I knew I hadn’t. But just the same when I looked over and saw the week’s stack of newspapers still sitting there I was greatly relieved; it had been possible that I had stuffed them down the chute before going to sleep, as I sometimes did.

I dragged them back onto the bed and started reading the vital statistics again. This time I read all categories, births, deaths, marriages, divorces, adoptions, changes of name, commitments, and withdrawals, for it had occurred to me that my eye might have caught Ricky’s name without consciously realizing it, while glancing down the column to the only subhead I was interested in—Ricky might have got married or had a baby or something.

I almost missed what must have caused the distressing dream. It was in the Times for 2 May 2001, Tuesday’s withdrawals listed in Wednesday’s paper: “Riverside Sanctuary…F. V. Heinicke.”

F. V. Heinicke!

“Heinicke” was Ricky’s grandmother’s name…I knew it, I was certain of it! I didn’t know why I knew it. But I felt that it had been buried in my head and had not popped up until I read it again. I had probably seen it or heard it at some time from Ricky or Miles, or it was even possible that I had

met the old gal at Sandia. No matter, the name, seen in the Times, had fitted a forgotten piece of information in my brain and then I knew. Only I still had to prove it. I had to make sure that “F. V. Heinicke” stood for “Frederica Virginia Heinicke.”

I was shaking with excitement, anticipation, and fear. In spite of well-established new habits I tried to zip my clothes instead of sticking the seams together and made a botch of getting dressed. But a few minutes later I was down in the hall where the phone booth was—I didn’t have an instrument in my room or I would have used it; I was simply a supplementary listing for the house phone. Then I had to run back up again when I found that I had forgotten my phone-credit ID card—I was really disorganized.

Then, when I had it, I was trembling so that I could hardly fit it into the slot. But I did and signaled “Service.” “Circuit desired?”

“Uh, I want the Riverside Sanctuary. That’s in Riverside Borough.”

“Searching…holding…circuit free. We are signaling.”

The screen lighted up at last and a man looked grumpily at me. “You must have the wrong phasing. This is the sanctuary. We’re closed for the night.”

I said, “Hang on, please. If this is the Riverside Sanctuary, you’re just who I want.” “Well, what do you want? At this hour?”

“You have a client there, F. V. Heinicke, a new withdrawal. I want to know—”

He shook his head. “We don’t give out information about clients over the phone. And certainly not in the middle of the night. You’d better call after ten o’clock. Better yet, come here.”

“I will, I will. But I want to know just one thing. What do the initials ‘F. V.’ stand for?” “I told you that—”

“Will you listen, please? I’m not just butting in; I’m a Sleeper myself. Sawtelle. Withdrawn just lately. So I know all about the ‘confidential relationship’ and what’s proper. Now you’ve already published this client’s name in the paper. You and I both know that the sanctuaries always give the papers the full names of clients withdrawn and committed…but the papers trim the given names to initials to save space. Isn’t that true?”

He thought about it. “Could be.”

“Then what possible harm is there in telling me what the initials ‘F. V.’ stand for?”

He hesitated still longer. “None, I guess, if that’s all you want. It’s all you’re going to get. Hold on.”

He passed out of the screen, was gone for what seemed like an hour, came back holding a card. “The light’s poor,” he said, peering at it. “ ‘Frances’ —no, ‘Frederica.’ ‘Frederica Virginia.’ ”

My ears roared and I almost fainted. “Thank God!” “You all right?”

“Yes. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Yes, I’m all right.”

“Hmm. I guess there’s no harm in telling you one more thing. It might save you a trip. She’s already checked out.”

IX

I COULD HAVE saved time by hiring a cab to jump me to Riverside, but I was handicapped by lack of cash. I was living in West Hollywood; the nearest twenty-four-hour bank was downtown at the Grand Circle of the Ways. So first I rode the Ways downtown and went to the bank for cash. One real improvement I had not appreciated up to then was the universal checkbook system; with a single cybernet as clearinghouse for the whole city and radioactive coding on my checkbook, I got cash laid in my palm as quickly there as I could have gotten it at my home bank across from Hired Girl, Inc.

Then I caught the express Way for Riverside. When I reached the sanctuary it was just daylight.

There was nobody there but the night technician I had talked to and his wife, the night nurse. I’m afraid I didn’t make a good impression. I had a day’s beard, I was wild-eyed, I probably had a beer breath, and I had not worked out a consistent framework of lies.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Larrigan, the night nurse, was sympathetic and helpful. She got a photograph out of file and said, “Is this your cousin, Mr. Davis?”

It was Ricky. There was no doubt about it, it was Ricky! Oh, not the Ricky I had known, for this was not a little girl but a mature young woman, twentyish or older, with a grown-up hairdo and a grown-up and very beautiful face. She was smiling.

But her eyes were unchanged and the ageless pixie quality of her face that had made her so delightful a child was still there. It was the same face, matured, filled out, grown beautiful, but unmistakable.

The stereo blurred, my eyes had filled with tears. “Yes,” I managed to choke. “Yes. That’s Ricky.” Mr. Larrigan said, “Nancy, you shouldn’t have showed him that.”

“Pooh, Hank, what harm is there in showing a photograph?”

“You know the rules.” He turned to me. “Mister, as I told you on the phone, we don’t give out information about clients. You come back here at ten o’clock when the administration office opens.”

“Or you could come back at eight,” his wife added. “Dr. Bernstein will be here then.”

“Now, Nancy, you just keep quiet. If he wants information, the man to see is the director. Bernstein hasn’t any more business answering questions than we have. Besides, she wasn’t even Bernstein’s patient.”

“Hank, you’re being fussy. You men like rules just for the sake of rules. If he’s in a hurry to see her, he could be in Brawley by ten o’clock.” She turned to me. “You come back at eight. That’s best. My husband and I can’t really tell you anything anyhow.”

“What’s this about Brawley? Did she go to Brawley?”

If her husband had not been there I think she would have told me more. She hesitated and he looked stern. She answered, “You see Dr. Bernstein. If you haven’t had breakfast, there’s a real nice place just down the street.”

So I went to the “real nice place” (it was) and ate and used their wash-room and bought a tube of Beardgo from a dispenser in the washroom and a shirt from another dispenser and threw away the one I had been wearing. By the time I returned I was fairly respectable.

But Larrigan must have bent Dr. Bernstein’s ear about me. He was a young man, resident in training, and he took a very stiff line. “Mr. Davis, you claim to be a Sleeper yourself. You must certainly know that there are criminals who make a regular business of preying on the gullibility and lack of orientation of a newly awakened Sleeper. Most Sleepers have considerable assets, all of them are unworldly in the world in which they find themselves, they are usually lonely and a bit scared—a perfect setup for confidence men.”

“But all I want to know is where she went! I’m her cousin. But I took the Sleep before she did, so I didn’t know she was going to.” “They usually claim to be relatives.” He looked at me closely. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

“I strongly doubt it. Unless you just happened to pass me on the Ways, downtown.” People are always thinking they’ve seen me before; I’ve got one of the Twelve Standard Faces, as lacking in uniqueness as one peanut in a sackful. “Doctor, how about phoning Dr. Albrecht at Sawtelle Sanctuary and checking on me?”

He looked judicial. “You come back and see the director. He can call the Sawtelle Sanctuary…or the police, whichever he sees fit.”

So I left. Then I may have made a mistake. Instead of coming back to see the director and very possibly getting the exact information I needed (with the aid of Albrecht’s vouching for me), I hired a jumpcab and went straight to Brawley.

It took three days to pick up her trail in Brawley. Oh, she had lived there and so had her grandmother; I found that out quickly. But the grandmother had died twenty years earlier and Ricky had taken the Sleep. Brawley is a mere hundred thousand compared with the seven million of Great Los Angeles; the twenty-year-old records were not hard to find. It was the trail less than a week old that I had trouble with.

Part of the trouble was that she was with someone; I had been looking for a young woman traveling alone. When I found out she had a man with her I thought anxiously about the crooks preying on Sleepers that Bernstein had lectured me about and got busier than ever.

I followed a false lead to Calexico, went back to Brawley, started over, picked it up again, and traced them as far as Yuma.

At Yuma I gave up the chase, for Ricky had gotten married. What I saw on the register at the county clerk’s office there shocked me so much that I dropped everything and jumped a ship for Denver, stopping only to mail a card to Chuck telling him to clear out my desk and pack the stuff in my room.

I STOPPED IN DENVER just long enough to visit a dental-supply house. I had not been in Denver since it had become the capital—after the Six Weeks War, Miles and I had gone straight to California—and the place stunned me. Why, I couldn’t even find Colfax Avenue. I had understood that everything essential to the government was buried back under the Rockies. If that is so, then there must be an awful lot of nonessentials still aboveground; the place seemed even more crowded than Great Los Angeles.

At the dental-supply house I bought ten kilograms of gold, isotope 197, in the form of fourteen-gauge wire. I paid $86.10 a kilogram for it, which was decidedly too much, since gold of engineering quality was selling for around $70 a kilogram, and the transaction mortally wounded my only thousand-dollar bill. But engineering gold comes either in alloys never found in nature, or with isotopes 196 and 198 present, or both, depending on the application. For my purposes I wanted fine gold, undetectable from gold refined from natural ore, and I did not want gold that might burn my pants off if I got cozy with it—the overdose at Sandia had given me a healthy respect for radiation poisoning.

I wound the gold wire around my waist and went to Boulder. Ten kilograms is about the weight of a well-filled weekend bag and that much gold bulks almost exactly the same as a quart of milk. But the wire form of it made it bulk more than it would have solid; I can’t recommend it as a girdle. But gold slugs would have been still harder to carry, and this way it was always with me.

Dr. Twitchell was still living there, though no longer working; he was professor emeritus and spent most of his waking hours in the bar of the faculty club. It took me four days to catch him in another bar, since the faculty club was closed to outlanders like me. But when I did, it turned out to

be easy to buy him a drink.

He was a tragic figure in the classic Greek meaning, a great man—a very great man—gone to ruin. He should have been up there with Einstein and Bohr and Newton; as it was, only a few specialists in field theory were really aware of the stature of his work. Now when I met him his brilliant mind was soured with disappointment, dimmed with age, and soggy with alcohol. It was like visiting the ruins of what had been a magnificent temple after the roof has fallen in, half the columns knocked down, and vines have grown over it all.

Nevertheless, he was brainier on the skids than I ever was at my best. I’m smart enough myself to appreciate real genius when I meet it. The first time I saw him he looked up, looked straight at me and said, “You again.”

“Sir?”

“You used to be one of my students, didn’t you?”

“Why, no, sir, I never had that honor.” Ordinarily when people think they have seen me before, I brush it off; this time I decided to exploit it if I could. “Perhaps you are thinking of my cousin, Doctor—class of ’86. He studied under you at one time.”

“Possibly. What did he major in?”

“He had to drop out without a degree, sir. But he was a great admirer of yours. He never missed a chance to tell people he had studied under you.”

You can’t make an enemy by telling a mother her child is beautiful. Dr. Twitchell let me sit down and presently let me buy him a drink. The greatest weakness of the glorious old wreck was his professional vanity. I had salvaged part of the four days before I could scrape up an acquaintance with him by memorizing everything there was about him in the university library, so I knew what papers he had written, where he had presented them, what earned and honorary degrees he held, and what books he had written. I had tried one of the latter, but I was already out of my depth on page nine, although I did pick up a little patter from it.

I let him know that I was a camp follower of science myself; right at present I was researching for a book: Unsung Geniuses. “What’s it going to be about?”

I admitted diffidently that I thought it would be appropriate to start the book with a popular account of his life and works…provided he would be willing to relax a bit from his well-known habit of shunning publicity. I would have to get a lot of my material from him, of course.

He thought it was claptrap and could not think of such a thing. But I pointed out that he had a duty to posterity and he agreed to think it over. By the next day he simply assumed that I was going to write his biography—not just a chapter, a whole book. From then on he talked and talked and talked and I took notes…real notes; I did not dare try to fool him by faking, as he sometimes asked me to read back.

But he never mentioned time travel.

Finally I said, “Doctor, isn’t it true that if it had not been for a certain colonel who was once stationed here you would have had the Nobel Prize hands down?”

He cursed steadily for three minutes with magnificent style. “Who told you about him?”

“Uh, Doctor, when I was doing research writing for the Department of Defense—I’ve mentioned that, haven’t I?” “No.”

“Well, when I was, I heard the whole story from a young Ph.D. working in another section. He had read the report and he said it was perfectly clear that you would be the most famous name in physics today…if you had been permitted to publish your work.”

“Hrrmph! That much is true.”

“But I gathered that it was classified…by order of this Colonel, uh, Plushbottom.”

“Thrushbotham. Thrushbotham, sir. A fat, fatuous, flatulent, foot-kissing fool incompetent to find his hat with it nailed to his head. Which it should have been.”

“It seems a great pity.”

“What is a pity, sir? That Thrushbotham was a fool? That was nature’s doing, not mine.”

“It seems a pity that the world should be deprived of the story. I understand that you are not allowed to speak of it.” “Who told you that? I say what I please!”

“That was what I understood, sir…from my friend in the Department of Defense.” “Hrrrmph!”

That was all I got out of him that night. It took him a week to decide to show me his laboratory.

Most of the building was now used by other researchers, but his time laboratory he had never surrendered, even though he did not use it now; he fell back on its classified status and refused to let anyone else touch it, nor had he permitted the apparatus to be torn down. When he let me in, the place smelled like a vault that has not been opened in years.

He had had just enough drinks not to give a damn, not so many but what he was still steady. His capacity was pretty high. He lectured me on the mathematics of time theory and temporal displacement (he didn’t call it “time travel”), but he cautioned me not to take notes. It would not have helped if I had, as he would start a paragraph with, “It is therefore obvious—” and go on from there to matters which may have been obvious to him and God but to no one else.

When he slowed down I said, “I gathered from my friend that the one thing you had not been able to do was to calibrate it? That you could not tell the exact magnitude of the temporal displacement?”

“What? Poppycock! Young man, if you can’t measure it, it’s not science.” He bubbled for a bit, like a teakettle, then went on, “Here. I’ll show you.” He turned away and started making adjustments. All that showed of his equipment was what he called the “temporal locus stage” —just a low platform with a cage around it—and a control board which might have served for a steam plant or a low-pressure chamber. I’m fairly sure I could have studied out how to handle the controls had I been left alone to examine them, but I had been told sharply to stay away from them. I could see an eight-point Brown recorder, some extremely heavy-duty solenoid-actuated switches, and a dozen other equally familiar components, but it didn’t mean a thing without the circuit diagrams.

He turned back to me and demanded, “Have you any change in your pocket?”

I reached in and hauled out a handful. He glanced at it and selected two five-dollar pieces, mint new, the pretty green plastic hexagonals issued just that year. I could have wished that he had picked half fives, as I was running low.

“Do you have a knife?” “Yes, sir.”

“Scratch your initials on each of them.”

I did so. He then had me place them side by side on the stage. “Note the exact time. I have set the displacement for exactly one week, plus or minus six seconds.”

I looked at my watch. Dr. Twitchell said, “Five… four… three… two… one… now!

I looked up from my watch. The coins were gone. I didn’t have to pretend that my eyes bugged out. Chuck had told me about a similar

demonstration—but seeing it was another matter.

Dr. Twitchell said briskly, “We will return here one week from tonight and wait for one of them to reappear. As for the other one—you saw both of them on the stage? You placed them there yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” “Where was I?”

“At the control board, sir.” He had been a good fifteen feet from the nearest part of the cage around the stage and had not approached it since. “Very well. Come here.” I did so and he reached into a pocket. “Here’s one of your bits. You’ll get the other back a week from now.” He handed

me a green five-dollar coin; it had my initials on it.

I did not say anything because I can’t talk very well with my jaw sagging loosely. He went on, “Your remarks last week disturbed me. So I visited this place on Wednesday, something I have not done for—oh, more than a year. I found this coin on the stage, so I knew that I had been… would be…using the equipment again. It took me until tonight to decide to demonstrate it to you.”

I looked at the coin and felt it. “This was in your pocket when we came here tonight?” “Certainly.”

“But how could it be both in your pocket and my pocket at the same time?”

“Good Lord, man, have you no eyes to see with? No brain to reason with? Can’t you absorb a simple fact simply because it lies outside your dull existence? You fetched it here in your pocket tonight—and we kicked it into last week. You saw. A few days ago I found it here. I placed it in my pocket. I fetched it here tonight. The same coin…or, to be precise, a later segment of its space-time structure, a week more worn, a week more dulled—but what the canaille would call the ‘same’ coin. Although no more identical in fact than is a baby identical with the man the baby grows into. Older.”

I looked at it. “Doctor…push me back in time by a week.” He stared angrily. “Out of the question!”

“Why not? Won’t it work with people?” “Eh? Certainly it will work with people.”

“Then why not do it? I’m not afraid. And think what a wonderful thing it would be for the book…if I could testify of my own knowledge that the Twitchell time displacement works.”

“You can report it of your own knowledge. You just saw it.”

“Yes,” I admitted slowly, “but I won’t be believed. That business with the coins…I saw it and I believe it. But anyone simply reading an account of it

would conclude that I was gullible, that you had hoaxed me with some simple legerdemain.” “Damn it, sir!”

“That’s what they would say. They wouldn’t be able to believe that I actually had seen what I reported. But if you were to ship me back just a week, then I could report of my own knowledge—”

“Sit down. Listen to me.” He sat down, but there was no place for me to sit, although he did not seem aware of it. “I have experimented with human beings long ago. And for that reason I resolved never to do it again.”

“Why? Did it kill them?”

“What? Don’t talk nonsense.” He looked at me sharply, added, “You are not to put this in the book.” “As you say, sir.”

“Some minor experiments showed that living subjects could make temporal displacements without harm. I had confided in a colleague, a young fellow who taught drawing and other matters in the school of architecture. Really more of an engineer than a scientist, but I liked him; his mind was alive. This young chap—it can’t hurt to tell you his name: Leonard Vincent—was wild to try it…really try it; he wanted to undergo major displacement, five hundred years. I was weak. I let him.”

“Then what happened?”

“How should I know? Five hundred years, man! I’ll never live to find out.” “But you think he’s five hundred years in the future?”

“Or the past. He might have wound up in the fifteenth century. Or the twenty-fifth. The chances are precisely even. There’s an indeterminacy— symmetrical equations. I’ve sometimes thought…no, just a chance similarity in names.”

I didn’t ask what he meant by this because I suddenly saw the similarity, too, and my hair stood on end. Then I pushed it out of my mind; I had other problems. Besides, a chance similarity was all it could be—a man could not get from Colorado to Italy, not in the fifteenth century.

“But I resolved not to be tempted again. It wasn’t science, it added nothing to the data. If he was displaced forward, well and good. But if he was displaced backward…then possibly I sent my friend to be killed by savages. Or eaten by wild animals.”

Or even possibly, I thought, to become a “Great White God.” I kept the thought to myself. “But you needn’t use so long a displacement with me.” “Let’s say no more about it, if you please, sir.”

“As you wish, Doctor.” But I couldn’t drop it. “Uh, may I make a suggestion?” “Eh? Speak up.”

“We could get almost the same result by a rehearsal.” “What do you mean?”

“A complete dry run, with everything done just exactly as if you were intending to displace a living subject—I’ll act out that part. We’ll do everything precisely as if you meant to displace me, right up to the point where you would push that button. Then I’ll understand the procedure …which I don’t quite, as yet.”

He grumbled a little but he really wanted to show off his toy. He weighed me and set aside metal weights just equal to my hundred and seventy pounds. “These are the same scales I used with poor Vincent.”

Between us we placed them on one side of the stage. “What temporal setting shall we make?” he asked. “This is your show.” “Uh, you said that it could be set accurately?”

“I said so, sir. Do you doubt it?”

“Oh no, no! Well, let’s see, this is the twenty-fourth of May—suppose we…how about, uh, say thirty-one years, three weeks, one day, seven hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty-five seconds?”

“A poor jest, sir. When I said ‘accurate’ I meant ‘accurate to better than one part in one hundred thousand.’ I have had no opportunity to calibrate to one part in nine hundred million.”

“Oh. You see, Doctor, how important an exact rehearsal is to me, since I know so little about it. Uh, suppose we call it thirty-one years and three

weeks. Or is that still too finicky?”

“Not at all. The maximum error should not exceed two hours.” He made his adjustments. “You can take your place on the stage.” “Is that all?”

“Yes. All but the power. I could not actually make this displacement with the line voltage I used on those coins. But since we aren’t actually going to do it, that doesn’t matter.”

I looked disappointed and was. “Then you don’t actually have what is necessary to produce such a displacement? You were speaking theoretically?”

“Confound it, sir, I was not speaking theoretically.” “But if you don’t have the power…?”

“I can get the power if you insist. Wait.” He went to a corner of the lab and picked up a phone. It must have been installed when the lab was new; I hadn’t seen one like it since I was awakened. There followed a brisk conversation with the night superintendent of the university’s powerhouse. Dr. Twitchell was not dependent on profanity; he could avoid it entirely and be more biting than most real artists can be when using plainer words. “I am not in the least interested in your opinions, my man. Read your instructions. I have full facilities whenever I wish them. Or can you read? Shall we

meet with the president at ten tomorrow morning and have him read them to you? Oh? So you can read? Can you write as well? Or have we exhausted your talents? Then write this down: Emergency full power across the bus bars of the Thornton Memorial Laboratory in exactly eight minutes. Repeat that back.”

He replaced the instrument. “People!”

He went to the control board, made some changes, and waited. Presently, even from where I stood inside the cage, I could see the long hands of three sets of meters swing across their dials and a red light came on at the top of the board. “Power,” he announced.

“Now what happens?” “Nothing.”

“That’s just what I thought.” “What do you mean?”

“What I said. Nothing would happen.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you. I hope I don’t understand you. What I meant is that nothing would happen unless I closed this pilot switch. If I did, you would be displaced precisely thirty-one years, three weeks.”

“And I still say nothing would happen.”

His face grew dark. “I think, sir, you are being intentionally offensive.”

“Call it what you want to. Doctor, I came here to investigate a remarkable rumor. Well, I’ve investigated it. I’ve seen a control board with pretty lights on it; it looks like a set for a mad scientist in a grabbie spectacular. I’ve seen a parlor trick performed with a couple of coins. Not much of a trick, by the way, since you selected the coins yourself and told me how to mark them; any parlor magician could do better. I’ve heard a lot of talk. But talk is cheap. What you claim to have discovered is impossible. By the way, they know that down at the department. Your report wasn’t suppressed; it’s simply filed in the screwball file. They get it out and pass it around now and then for a laugh.”

I thought the poor old boy was going to have a stroke there and then. But I had to stimulate him by the only reflex he had left, his vanity. “Come out of there, sir. Come out. I’m going to thrash you. With my bare hands I’m going to thrash you.”

The rage he was in, I think he might have managed it, despite age and weight and physical condition. But I answered, “You don’t scare me, Pappy. That dummy button doesn’t scare me either. Go ahead and push it.”

He looked at me, looked at the button, but still he didn’t do anything. I snickered and said, “A hoax, just as the boys said it was. Twitch, you’re a pompous old faker, a stuffed shirt. Colonel Thrushbotham was right.”

That did it.

X

EVEN AS HE stabbed at the button I tried to shout at him not to do it. But it was too late; I was already falling. My last thought was an agonized one that I didn’t want to go through with it. I had chucked away everything and tormented almost to death a poor old man who hadn’t done me any harm—and I didn’t even know which way I was going. Worse, I didn’t know that I would get there.

Then I hit. I don’t think I fell more than four feet but I had not been ready for it. I fell like a stick, collapsed like a sack. Then somebody was saying, “Where the devil did you come from?”

It was a man, about forty, bald-headed but well built and lean. He was standing facing me with his fists on his hipbones. He looked competent and shrewd and his face was not unpleasant save that at the moment he seemed sore at me.

I sat up and found that I was sitting on granite gravel and pine needles. There was a woman standing by the man, a pleasant pretty woman somewhat younger than he. She was looking at me wide-eyed but not speaking.

“Where am I?” I said foolishly. I could have said, “When am I?” but that would have sounded still more foolish, and besides, I didn’t think of it. One look at them and I knew when I was not—I was sure it was not 1970. Nor was I still in 2001; in 2001 they kept that sort of thing for the beaches. So I must have gone the wrong way.

Because neither one of them wore anything but smooth coats of tan. Not even Sticktite. But they seemed to find it enough. Certainly they were not embarrassed by it.

“One thing at a time,” he objected. “I asked you how you got here?” He glanced up. “Your parachute didn’t stick in the trees, did it? In any case, what are you doing here? This is posted private property; you’re trespassing. And what are you doing in that Mardi Gras getup?”

I didn’t see anything wrong with my clothes—especially in view of the way they were dressed. But I didn’t answer. Other times, other customs—I could see that I was going to have trouble.

She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t, John,” she said gently. “I think he’s hurt.” He looked at her, glanced back sharply at me. “Are you hurt?”

I tried to stand up, managed it. “I don’t think so. A few bruises, maybe. Uh, what date is today?” “Huh? Why, it’s the first Sunday in May. The third of May, I think. Is that right, Jenny?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Look,” I said urgently, “I got an awful knock on the head. I’m confused. What’s the date? The whole date?” “What?”

I should have kept my mouth shut until I could pick it up off something, a calendar or a paper. But I had to know right then; I couldn’t stand to wait. “What year?”

“Brother, you did get a lump. It’s 1970.” I saw him staring at my clothes again.

My relief was almost more than I could stand. I’d made it, I’d made it! I wasn’t too late. “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks an awful lot. You don’t know.” He still looked as if he wanted to call out the reserves, so I added nervously, “I’m subject to sudden attacks of amnesia. Once I lost, uh—five whole years.”

“I should think that would be upsetting,” he said slowly. “Do you feel well enough to answer my questions?” “Don’t badger him, dear,” she said softly. “He looks like a nice person. I think he’s just made a mistake.” “We’ll see. Well?”

“I feel all right…now. But I was pretty confused for a minute there.” “Okay. How did you get here? And why are you dressed that way?”

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure how I got here. And I certainly don’t know where I am. These spells hit me suddenly. As for how I’m dressed… I guess you could call it personal eccentricity. Uh…like the way you’re dressed. Or not dressed.”

He glanced down at himself and grinned. “Oh, yes. I’m quite aware that the way my wife and I are dressed…or not dressed…would call for explanation under some circumstances. But we prefer to make trespassers do the explaining instead. You see, you don’t belong here, dressed that way or any other, while we do—just as we are. These are the grounds of the Denver Sunshine Club.”

JOHN AND JENNY SUTTON were the sort of sophisticated, unshockable, friendly people who could invite an earthquake in for tea. John obviously was not satisfied with my fishy explanations and wanted to cross-examine me, but Jenny held him back. I stuck to my story about “dizzy spells” and said that the last I remembered was yesterday evening and that I had been in Denver, at the New Brown Palace. Finally he said, “Well, it’s quite interesting, even exciting, and I suppose somebody who’s going into Boulder can drop you there and you can get a bus back into Denver.” He looked at me again. “But if I take you back to the clubhouse, people are going to be mighty, mighty curious.”

I looked down at myself. I had been made vaguely uneasy by the fact that I was dressed and they were not—I mean I felt like the one out of order, not they. “John…would it simplify things if I peeled off my clothes too?” The prospect did not upset me; I had never been in one of the bare-skin camps before, seeing no point in them. But Chuck and I had spent a couple of weekends at Santa Barbara and one at Laguna Beach—at a beach skin makes sense and nothing else does.

He nodded. “It certainly would.”

“Dear,” said Jenny, “he could be our guest.”

“Mmm…yes. My only love, you paddle your sweet self into the grounds. Mix around and manage to let it be known that we are expecting a guest from…where had it better be, Danny?”

“Uh, from California. Los Angeles. I actually am from there.” I almost said “Great Los Angeles” and realized that I was going to have to guard my speech. “Movies” were no longer “grabbies.”

“From Los Angeles. That and ‘Danny’ is all that is necessary; we don’t use last names, unless offered. So, honey, you spread the word, as if it were something everybody already knew. Then in about half an hour you have to meet us down by the gate. But come here instead. And fetch my overnight bag.”

“Why the bag, dear?”

“To conceal that masquerade costume. It’s pretty conspicuous, even for anyone who is as eccentric as Danny said he is.”

I got up and went at once behind some bushes to undress, since I wouldn’t have any excuse for locker-room modesty once Jenny Sutton left us. I had to do it; I couldn’t peel down and reveal that I had twenty thousand dollars’ worth of gold, figured at the 1970 standard of sixty dollars an ounce, wrapped around my waist. It did not take long, as I had made a belt out of the gold, instead of a girdle, the first time I had had trouble getting it off

and on to bathe; I had double-looped it and wired it together in front.

When I had my clothes off I wrapped the gold in them and tried to pretend that it all weighed only what clothes should. John Sutton glanced at the bundle but said nothing. He offered me a cigarette—he carried them strapped to his ankle. They were a brand I had never expected to see again.

I waved it but it didn’t light. Then I let him light it for me. “Now,” he said quietly, “that we are alone, do you have anything you want to tell me? If I’m going to vouch for you to the club, I’m honor-bound to be sure, at the very least, that you won’t make trouble.”

I took a puff. It felt raw in my throat. “John, I won’t make any trouble. That’s the last thing on earth that I want.” “Mmm…probably. Just ‘dizzy spells’ then?”

I thought about it. It was an impossible situation. The man had a right to know. But he certainly would not believe the truth…at least I would not have in his shoes. But it would be worse if he did believe me; it would kick up the very hoorah that I did not want. I suppose that if I had been a real, honest, legitimate time traveler, engaged in scientific research, I would have sought publicity, brought along indisputable proof, and invited tests by scientists.

But I wasn’t; I was a private and somewhat shady citizen, engaged in hanky-panky I didn’t want to call attention to. I was simply looking for my Door into Summer, as quietly as possible.

“John, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Mmm…perhaps. Still, I saw a man fall out of empty sky…but he didn’t hit hard enough to hurt him. He’s wearing funny clothes. He doesn’t seem to know where he is or what day it is. Danny, I’ve read Charles Fort, the same as most people. But I never expected to meet a case. But, having met one, I don’t expect the explanation to be as simple as a card trick. So?”

“John, something you said earlier—the way you phrased something— made me think you were a lawyer.” “Yes, I am. Why?”

“Can I make a privileged communication?” “Hmm—are you asking me to accept you as a client?”

“If you want to put it that way, yes. I’m probably going to need advice.” “Shoot. Privileged.”

“Okay. I’m from the future. Time travel.”

He didn’t say anything for several moments. We were lying stretched out in the sun. I was doing it to keep warm; May in Colorado is sunshiny but brisk. John Sutton seemed used to it and was simply lounging, chewing a pine needle.

“You’re right,” he answered. “I don’t believe it. Let’s stick to ‘dizzy spells.’ ” “I told you you wouldn’t.”

He sighed. “Let’s say I don’t want to. I don’t want to believe in ghosts, either, or reincarnation, or any of this ESP magic. I like simple things that I can understand. I think most people do. So my first advice to you is to keep it a privileged communication. Don’t spread it around.”

“That suits me.”

He rolled over. “But I think it would be a good idea if we burned these clothes. I’ll find you something to wear. Will they burn?” “Uh, not very easily. They’ll melt.”

“Better put your shoes back on. We wear shoes mostly, and those will get by. Anybody asks you questions about them, they’re custom-made. Health shoes.”

“They are, both.”

“Okay.” He started to unroll my clothes before I could stop him. “What the devil!”

It was too late, so I let him uncover it. “Danny,” he said in a queer voice, “is this stuff what it appears to be?” “What does it appear to be?”

“Gold.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get it?” “I bought it.”

He felt it, tried the dead softness of the stuff, sensuous as putty, then hefted it. “Cripes! Danny…listen to me carefully. I’m going to ask you one question, and be damned careful how you answer it. Because I’ve got no use for a client who lies to me. I dump him. And I won’t be a party to a felony. Did you come by this stuff legally?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you haven’t heard of the Gold Reserve Act of 1968?” “

I have. I came by it legally. I intend to sell it to the Denver Mint, for dollars.” “Jeweler’s license, maybe?”

“No. John, I told the simple truth, whether you believe me or not. Where I came from I bought that over the counter, legal as breathing. Now I want to turn it in for dollars at the earliest possible moment. I know that it is against the law to keep it. What can they do to me if I lay it on the counter at the mint and tell them to weigh it?”

“Nothing, in the long run…if you stick to your ‘dizzy spells.’ But they can surely make your life miserable in the meantime.” He looked at it. “I think you had better kick a little dirt over it.”

“Bury it?”

“You don’t have to go that far. But if what you tell me is true, you found this stuff in the mountains. That’s where prospectors usually find gold.” “Well…whatever you say. I don’t mind some little white lies, since it is legitimately mine anyhow.”

“But is it a lie? When did you first lay eyes on this gold? What was the earliest date when it was in your possession?” I tried to think back. It was the same day I left Yuma, which was sometime in May 2001. About two weeks ago…  Hunh!

“Put that way, John…the earliest date on which I saw that gold…was today, May third, 1970.” He nodded. “So you found it in the mountains.”

THE SUTTONS WERE staying over until Monday morning, so I stayed over. The other club members were all friendly but remarkably unnosy about my personal affairs, less so than any group I’ve ever been in. I’ve learned since that this constitutes standard good manners in a skin club, but at the time it made them the most discreet and most polite people I had ever met.

John and Jenny had their own cabin and I slept on a cot in the club-house dormitory. It was darn chilly. The next morning John gave me a shirt and

a pair of blue jeans. My own clothes were wrapped around the gold in a bag in the trunk of his car—which itself was a Jaguar Imperator, all I needed

to tell me that he was no cheap shyster. But I had known that by his manner.

I stayed overnight with them and by Tuesday I had a little money. I never laid eyes on the gold again, but in the course of the next few weeks John turned over to me its exact mint value as bullion minus the standard fees of licensed gold buyers. I know that he did not deal with the mint directly, as he always turned over to me vouchers from gold buyers. He did not deduct for his own services and he never offered to tell me the details.

I did not care. Once I had cash again, I got busy. That first Tuesday, 5 May 1970, Jenny drove me around and I rented a small loft in the old commercial district. I equipped it with a drafting table, a workbench, an army cot, and darn little else; it already had 120, 240, gas, running water, and a toilet that stopped up easily. I didn’t want any more and I had to watch every dime.

It was tedious and time-wasting to design by the old compass-and-T-square routine and I didn’t have a minute to spare, so I built Drafting Dan before I rebuilt Flexible Frank. Only this time Flexible Frank became Protean Pete, the all-purpose automaton, so linked as to be able to do almost anything a man can do, provided its Thorsen tubes were properly instructed. I knew that Protean Pete would not stay that way; his descendants would evolve into a horde of specialized gadgets, but I wanted to make the claims as broad as possible.

Working models are not required for patents, merely drawings and descriptions. But I needed good models, models that would work perfectly and anybody could demonstrate, because these models were going to have to sell themselves, show by their very practicality and by the evident economy designed into them for their eventual production engineering that they would not only work but would be a good investment—the patent office is stuffed with things that work but are worthless commercially.

The work went both fast and slow, fast because I knew exactly what I was doing, slow because I did not have a proper machine shop nor any help. Presently I grudgingly dipped into my precious cash to rent some machine tools, then things went better. I worked from breakfast to exhaustion, seven days a week, except for about one weekend a month with John and Jenny at the bare-bottom club near Boulder. By the first of September I had both models working properly and was ready to start on the drawings and descriptions. I designed and sent out for manufacture pretty speckle-lacquer cover plates for both of them and I had the external moving parts chrome-plated; these were the only jobs I farmed out and it hurt me to spend the money, but I felt that it was necessary. Oh, I had made extreme use of catalogue-available standard components; I could not have built them otherwise, nor would they have been commercial when I got through. But I did not like to spend money on custom-made prettiness.

I did not have time to get around much, which was just as well. Once when I was out buying a servo motor I ran into a chap I had known in California. He spoke to me and I answered before I thought. “Hey, Dan! Danny Davis! Imagine bumping into you here. I thought you were in Mojave?”

I shook hands. “Just a quick business trip. I’m going back in a few days.” “I’m going back this afternoon. I’ll phone Miles and tell him I saw you.”

I looked worried and was. “Don’t do that, please.”

“Why not? Aren’t you and Miles still buddy-buddy budding tycoons together?”

“Well…look, Mort, Miles doesn’t know I’m here. I’m supposed to be in Albuquerque on business for the company. But I flew up here on the side, on strictly personal and private business. Get me? Nothing to do with the firm. And I don’t care to discuss it with Miles.”

He looked knowing. “Woman trouble?” “Well…yes.”

“She married?” “You might say so.”

He dug me in the ribs and winked. “I catch. Old Miles is pretty puritanical, isn’t he? Okay, I’ll cover for you and someday you can cover for me. Is she any good?”

I’d like to cover you with a spade, I thought to myself, you fourth-rate frallup. Mort was the sort of no-good traveling salesman who spends more time trying to seduce waitresses than taking care of his customers—besides which, the line he handled was as shoddy as he was, never up to its specs.

But I bought him a drink and treated him to fairy tales about the “married woman” I had invented and listened while he boasted to me of no doubt equally fictitious exploits. Then I shook him.

On another occasion I tried to buy Dr. Twitchell a drink and failed.

I had seated myself beside him at the restaurant counter of a drugstore on Champa Street, then caught sight of his face in the mirror. My first impulse was to crawl under the counter and hide.

Then I caught hold of myself and realized that, out of all the persons living in 1970, he was the one I had least need to worry about. Nothing could go wrong because nothing had…I meant “nothing would.” No— Then I quit trying to phrase it, realizing that if time travel ever became widespread, English grammar was going to have to add a whole new set of tenses to describe reflexive situations—conjugations that would make the French literary tenses and the Latin historical tenses look simple.

In any case, past or future or something else, Twitchell was not a worry to me now. I could relax.

I studied his face in the mirror, wondering if I had been misled by a chance resemblance. But I had not been. Twitchell did not have a general- issue face like mine; he had stern, self-assured, slightly arrogant and quite handsome features which would have looked at home on Zeus. I remembered that face only in ruins, but there was no doubt—and I squirmed inside as I thought of the old man and how badly I had treated him. I wondered how I could make it up to him.

Twitchell caught sight of me eyeing him in the mirror and turned to me. “Something wrong?” “No. Uh…you’re Dr. Twitchell, aren’t you? At the university?”

“Denver University, yes. Have we met?”

I had almost slipped, having forgotten that he taught at the city university in this year. Remembering in two directions is difficult. “No, Doctor, but I’ve heard you lecture. You might say I’m one of your fans.”

His mouth twitched in a half-smile but he did not rise to it. From that and other things I learned that he had not yet acquired a gnawing need for adulation; he was sure of himself at that age and needed only his own self-approval. “Are you sure you haven’t got me mixed up with a movie star?”

“Oh no! You’re Dr. Hubert Twitchell…the great physicist.”

His mouth twitched again. “Let’s just say that I am a physicist. Or try to be.”

We chatted for a while and I tried to hang onto him after he had finished his sandwich. I said it would be an honor if he would let me buy him a drink. He shook his head. “I hardly drink at all and certainly never before dark. Thanks anyway. It’s been nice meeting you. Drop into my lab someday if you are ever around the campus.”

I said I would.

But I did not make many slips in 1970 (second time around) because I understood it and, anyhow, most people who might have recognized me

were in California. I resolved that if I did meet any more familiar faces I would give them the cold stare and the quick brushoff—take no chances.

But little things can cause you trouble too. Like the time I got caught in a zipper simply because I had become used to the more convenient and much safer Sticktite closures. A lot of little things like that I missed very much after having learned in only six months to take them for granted.

Shaving—I had to go back to shaving! Once I even caught a cold. That horrid ghost of the past resulted from forgetting that clothes could get soaked in rain. I wish that those precious esthetes who sneer at progress and prattle about the superior beauties of the past could have been with me—dishes that let food get chilled, shirts that had to be laundered, bathroom mirrors that steamed up when you needed them, runny noses, dirt underfoot and dirt in your lungs—I had become used to a better way of living and 1970 was a series of petty frustrations until I got the hang of it again.

But a dog gets used to his fleas and so did I. Denver in 1970 was a very quaint place with a fine old-fashioned flavor; I became very fond of it. It was nothing like the slick New Plan maze it had been (or would be) when I had arrived (or would arrive) there from Yuma; it still had less than two

million people, there were still buses and other vehicular traffic in the streets—there still were streets; I had no trouble finding Colfax Avenue.

Denver was still getting used to being the national seat of government and was not quite happy in the role, like a boy in his first formal evening

clothes. Its spirit still yearned for high-heeled boots and its western twang even though it knew it had to grow up and be an international metropolis, with embassies and spies and famous gourmet restaurants. The city was being jerry-built in all directions to house the bureaucrats and lobbyists and contact men and clerk-typists and flunkies; buildings were being thrown up so fast that with each one there was hazard of enclosing a cow inside the walls. Nevertheless, the city had extended only a few miles past Aurora on the east, to Henderson on the north, and Littleton on the south

—there was still open country before you reached the Air Academy. On the west, of course, the city flowed into the high country and the Federal bureaus were tunneling back into the mountains.

I liked Denver during its Federal boom. Nevertheless, I was excruciatingly anxious to get back to my own time.

It was always the little things. I had had my teeth worked over completely shortly after I had been put on the staff of Hired Girl and could afford it. I had never expected to have to see a dental plastician again. Nevertheless, in 1970 I did not have anti-caries pills and so I got a hole in a tooth, a painful one or I would have ignored it. So I went to a dentist. So help me, I had forgotten what he would see when he looked into my mouth. He blinked, moved his mirror around, and said, “Great jumping Jehosaphat! Who was your dentist?”

“Kah hoo hank?”

He took his hands out of my mouth. “Who did it? And how?”

“Huh? You mean my teeth? Oh, that’s experimental work they’re doing in…India.” “How do they do it?”

“How would I know?”

“Mmm…wait a minute. I’ve got to get some pictures of this.” He started fiddling with his X-ray equipment. “Oh no,” I objected. “Just clean out that bicuspid, plug it up with anything, and let me out of here.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. But I’m on a dead run.”

So he did as I said, pausing now and again to look at my teeth. I paid cash and did not leave my name. I suppose I could have let him have the pics, but covering up had become a reflex. It couldn’t have hurt anything to let him have them. Nor helped either, as X-rays would not show how regeneration was accomplished, nor could I have told him.

There is no time like the past to get things done. While I was sweating sixteen hours a day on Drafting Dan and Protean Pete I got something else done with my left hand. Working anonymously through John’s law office I hired a detective agency with national branches to dig up Belle’s past. I supplied them with her address and the license number and model of her car (since steering wheels are good places to get fingerprints) and suggested that she might have been married here and there and possibly might have a police record. I had to limit the budget severely; I couldn’t afford the sort of investigation you read about.

When they did not report back in ten days I kissed my money goodbye. But a few days later a thick envelope showed up at John’s office.

Belle had been a busy girl. Born six years earlier than she claimed, she had been married twice before she was eighteen. One of them did not count because the man already had a wife; if she had been divorced from the second the agency had not uncovered it.

She had apparently been married four times since then, although once was doubtful; it may have been the “war-widow” racket worked with the aid of a man who was dead and could not object. She had been divorced once (respondent) and one of her husbands was dead. She might still be “married” to the others.

Her police record was long and interesting but apparently she had been convicted of a felony only once, in Nebraska, and granted parole without doing time. This was established only by fingerprints, as she had jumped parole, changed her name, and had acquired a new social-security number. The agency asked if they were to notify Nebraska authorities.

I told them not to bother; she had been missing for nine years and her conviction had been for nothing worse than lure in a badger game. I wondered what I would have done if it had been dope peddling? Reflexive decisions have their complications.

I RAN BEHIND schedule on the drawings and October was on me before I knew it. I still had the descriptions only half worded, since they had to tie into drawings, and I had done nothing about the claims. Worse, I had done nothing about organizing the deal so that it would hold up; I could not do it until I had a completed job to show. Nor had I had time to make contacts. I began to think that I had made a mistake in not asking Dr. Twitchell to set the controls for at least thirty-two years instead of thirty-one years and a fiddling three weeks; I had underestimated the time I would need and overestimated my own capacity.

I had not shown my toys to my friends, the Suttons, not because I wanted to hide them, but because I had not wanted a lot of talk and useless advice while they were incomplete. On the last Saturday in September I was scheduled to go out to the club camp with them. Being behind schedule, I had worked late the night before, then had been awakened early by the torturing clang of an alarm clock so that I could shave and be ready to go when they came by. I shut the sadistic thing off and thanked God that they had got rid of such horrible devices in 2001, then I pulled myself groggily together and went down to the corner drugstore to phone and say that I couldn’t make it, I had to work.

Jenny answered, “Danny, you’re working too hard. A weekend in the country will do you good.” “I can’t help it, Jenny. I have to. I’m sorry.”

John got on the other phone and said, “What’s all this nonsense?”

“I’ve got to work, John. I’ve simply got to. Say hello to the folks for me.”

I went back upstairs, burned some toast, vulcanized some eggs, sat back down at Drafting Dan. An hour later they banged on my door.

None of us went to the mountains that weekend. Instead I demonstrated both devices. Jenny was not much impressed by Drafting Dan (it isn’t a

woman’s gismo, unless she herself is an engineer), but she was wide-eyed over Protean Pete. She kept house with a Mark II Hired Girl and could see how much more this machine could do.

But John could see the importance of Drafting Dan. When I showed him how I could write my signature, recognizably my own, just by punching keys—I admit I had practiced—his eyebrows stayed up. “Chum, you’re going to throw draftsmen out of work by the thousand.”

“No, I won’t. The shortage of engineering talent in this country gets worse every year; this gadget will just help to fill the gap. In a generation you are going to see this tool in every engineering and architectural office in the nation. They’ll be as lost without it as a modern mechanic would be without power tools.”

“You talk as if you knew.” “I do know.”

He looked over at Protean Pete—I had set him to tidying my work-bench—and back at Drafting Dan. “Danny…sometimes I think maybe you were telling me the truth, you know, the day we met you.”

I shrugged. “Call it second sight…but I do know. I’m certain. Does it matter?” “I guess not. What are your plans for these things?”

I frowned. “That’s the hitch, John. I’m a good engineer and a fair jackleg mechanic when I have to be. But I’m no businessman; I’ve proved that. You’ve never fooled with patent law?”

“I told you that before. It’s a job for a specialist.”

“Do you know an honest one? Who’s smart as a whip besides? It’s reached the point where I’ve got to have one. I’ve got to set up a corporation,

too, to handle it. And work out the financing. But I haven’t got much time; I’m terribly pressed for time.” “Why?”

“I’m going back where I came from.” He sat and said nothing for quite a while. At last he said, “How much time?” “Uh, about nine weeks. Nine weeks from this coming Thursday to be exact.”

He looked at the two machines, looked back at me. “Better revise your schedule. I’d say that you had more like nine months’ work cut out for you. You won’t be in production even then—just lined up to start moving, with luck.”

“John, I can’t!”

“I’ll say you can’t.”

“I mean I can’t change my schedule. That’s beyond my control…now.” I put my face in my hands. I was dead with fatigue, having had less than five hours’ sleep and having averaged not much better for days. The shape I was in, I was willing to believe that there was something, after all, to this “fate” business—a man could struggle against it but never beat it.

I looked up. “Will you handle it?” “Eh? What part of it?”

“Everything. I’ve done all I know how to do.”

“That’s a big order, Dan. I could rob you blind. You know that, don’t you? And this may be a gold mine.” “It will be. I know.”

“Then why trust me? You had better just keep me as your attorney, advice for a fee.”

I tried to think while my head ached. I had taken a partner once before—but, damnation, no matter how many times you get your fingers burned, you have to trust people. Otherwise you are a hermit in a cave, sleeping with one eye open. There wasn’t any way to be safe; just being alive was deadly dangerous…fatal, in the end.

“Cripes, John, you know the answer to that. You trusted me. Now I need your help again. Will you help me?”

“Of course he will,” Jenny put in gently, “though I haven’t heard what you two were talking about. Danny? Can it wash dishes? Every dish you have

is dirty.”

“What, Jenny? Why, I suppose he can. Yes, of course he can.” “Then tell him to, please. I want to see it.”

“Oh. I’ve never programmed him for it. I will if you want me to. But it will take several hours to do it right. Of course after that he’ll always be able to do it. But the first time…well, you see, dishwashing involves a lot of alternate choices. It’s a ‘judgment’ job, not a comparatively simple routine like laying bricks or driving a truck.”

“Goodness! I’m certainly glad to find that at least one man understands housework. Did you hear what he said, dear? But don’t stop to teach him now, Danny. I’ll do them myself.” She looked around. “Danny, you’ve been living like a pig, to put it gently.”

To tell the simple truth, it had missed me entirely that Protean Pete could work for me. I had been engrossed in planning how he could work for other people in commercial jobs, and teaching him to do them, while I myself had simply been sweeping dirt into the corner or ignoring it. Now I began teaching him all the household tasks that Flexible Frank had learned; he had the capacity, as I had installed three times as many Thorsen tubes in him as Frank had had.

I had time to do it, for John took over.

Jenny typed descriptions for us; John retained a patent attorney to help with the claims. I don’t know whether John paid him cash or cut him in on the cake; I never asked. I left the whole thing up to him, including what our shares should be; not only did it leave me free for my proper work, but I figured that if he decided such things he could never be tempted the way Miles had been. And I honestly did not care; money as such is not important. Either John and Jenny were what I thought they were or I might as well find that cave and be a hermit.

I insisted on just two things. “John, I think we ought to call the firm ‘The Aladdin Autoengineering Corporation.’ ” “Sounds pretty fancy. What’s wrong with ‘Davis & Sutton’?”

“That’s how it’s got to be, John.”

“So? Is your second sight telling you this?”

“Could be, could be. We’ll use a picture of Aladdin rubbing his lamp as a trademark, with the genie forming above him. I’ll make a rough sketch. And one other thing: The home office had better be in Los Angeles.”

“What? Now you’ve gone too far. That is, if you expect me to run it. What’s wrong with Denver?”

“Nothing is wrong with Denver, it’s a nice town. But it is not the place to set up the factory. Pick a good site here and some bright morning you wake up and find that the Federal enclave has washed over it and you are out of business until you get reestablished on a new one. Besides that, labor is scarce, raw materials come overland, building materials are all gray-market. Whereas Los Angeles has an unlimited supply of skilled workmen and more pouring in every day, Los Angeles is a seaport, Los Angeles is—”

“How about the smog? It’s not worth it.”

“They’ll lick the smog before long. Believe me. And haven’t you noticed that Denver is working up smog of its own?”

“Now wait a minute, Dan. You’ve already made it clear that I will have to run this while you go kiyoodling off on some business of your own. Okay, I agreed. But I ought to have some choice in working conditions.”

“It’s necessary, John.”

“Dan, nobody in his right mind who lives in Colorado would move to California. I was stationed out there during the war; I know. Take Jenny here; she’s a native Californian, that’s her secret shame. You couldn’t hire her to go back. Here you’ve got winters, changing seasons, brisk mountain air, magnificent—”

Jenny looked up. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’d never go back.” “What’s that, dear?”

Jenny had been quietly knitting; she never talked unless she really had something to say. Now she put down her knitting, a clear sign. “If we did move there, dear, we could join the Oakdale Club; they have outdoor swimming all year round. I was thinking of that just this last weekend when I saw ice on the pool at Boulder.”

I stayed until the evening of 2 December 1970, the last possible minute. I was forced to borrow three thousand dollars from John—the prices I had paid for components had been scandalous—but I offered him a stock mortgage to secure it. He let me sign it, then tore it up and dropped it in a wastebasket. “Pay me when you get around to it.”

“It will be thirty years, John.”

“As long as that?” I pondered it. He had never invited me to tell my whole story since the afternoon, six months earlier, when he had told me frankly that he did not believe the essential part—but was going to vouch for me to their club anyhow.

I told him I thought it was time to tell him. “Shall we wake up Jenny? She’s entitled to hear it too.”

“Mmm…no. Let her nap until just before you have to leave. Jenny is a very uncomplicated person, Dan. She doesn’t care who you are or where you came from as long as she likes you. If it seems a good idea, I can pass it on to her later.”

“As you will.” He let me tell it all, stopping only to fill our glasses—mine with ginger ale; I had a reason not to touch alcohol. When I had brought it up to the point where I landed on a mountainside outside Boulder, I stopped. “That’s it,” I said. “Though I was mixed up on one point. I’ve looked at the contour since and I don’t think my fall was more than two feet. If they had—I mean ‘if they were going to’—bulldoze that laboratory site any deeper, I would have been buried alive. Probably would have killed both of you too—if it didn’t blow up the whole county. I don’t know just what happens when a flat waveform changes back into a mass where another mass already is.”

John went on smoking. “Well?” I said. “What do you think?”

“Danny, you’ve told me a lot of things about what Los Angeles—I mean ‘Great Los Angeles’—is going to be like. I’ll let you know when I see you just how accurate you’ve been.”

“It’s accurate. Subject to minor slips of memory.”

“Mmm…you certainly make it sound logical. But in the meantime I think you are the most agreeable lunatic I’ve ever met. Not that it handicaps you as an engineer…or as a friend. I like you, boy. I’m going to buy you a new straitjacket for Christmas.”

“Have it your own way.”

“I have to have it this way. The alternative is that I myself am stark staring mad…and that would make quite a problem for Jenny.” He glanced at the clock. “We’d better wake her. She’d scalp me if I let you leave without saying good-bye to her.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

They drove me to Denver International Port and Jenny kissed me good-bye at the gate. I caught the eleven o’clock shuttle for Los Angeles.

XI

THE FOLLOWING EVENING, 3 December 1970, I had a cabdriver drop me a block from Miles’ house comfortably early, as I did not know exactly what time I had arrived there the first time. It was already dark as I approached his house, but I saw only his car at the curb, so I backed off a hundred yards to a spot where I could watch that stretch of curb and waited.

Two cigarettes later I saw another car pull up there, stop, and its lights go out. I waited a couple of minutes longer, then hurried toward it. It was my own car.

I did not have a key but that was no hurdle; I was always getting ears-deep in an engineering problem and forgetting my keys; I had long ago formed the habit of keeping a spare ditched in the trunk. I got it now and climbed into the car. I had parked on a slight grade heading downhill, so, without turning on lights or starting the engine, I let it drift to the corner and turned there, then switched on the engine but not the lights, and parked again in the alley back of Miles’ house and on which his garage faced.

The garage was locked. I peered through dirty glass and saw a shape with a sheet over it. By its contours I knew it was my old friend Flexible Frank.

Garage doors are not built to resist a man armed with a tire iron and determination—not in southern California in 1970. It took seconds. Carving Frank into pieces I could carry and stuff into my car took much longer. But first I checked to see that the notes and drawings were where I suspected they were—they were indeed, so I hauled them out and dumped them on the floor of the car, then tackled Frank himself. Nobody knew as well as I did how he was put together, and it speeded up things enormously that I did not care how much damage I did; nevertheless, I was as busy as a one- man band for nearly an hour.

I had just stowed the last piece, the wheelchair chassis, in the car trunk and had lowered the turtleback down on it as far as it would go when I heard Pete start to wail. Swearing to myself at the time it had taken to tear Frank apart, I hurried around the garage and into their back yard. Then the commotion started.

I had promised myself that I would relish every second of Pete’s triumph. But I couldn’t see it. The back door was open and light was streaming out the screen door, but while I could hear sounds of running, crashes, Pete’s blood-chilling war cry, and screams from Belle, they never accommodated me by coming into my theater of vision. So I crept up to the screen door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carnage.

The damned thing was hooked! It was the only thing that had failed to follow the schedule. So I frantically dug into my pocket, broke a nail getting my knife open—and jabbed through and unhooked it just in time to jump out of the way as Pete hit the screen like a stunt motorcyclist hitting a fence.

I fell over a rosebush. I don’t know whether Miles and Belle even tried to follow him outside. I doubt it; I would not have risked it in their spot. But I was too busy getting myself untangled to notice.

Once I was on my feet I stayed behind bushes and moved around to the side of the house; I wanted to get away from that open door and the light pouring out of it. Then it was just a case of waiting until Pete quieted down. I would not touch him then, certainly not try to pick him up. I know cats.

But every time he passed me, prowling for an entrance and sounding his deep challenge, I called out to him softly. “Pete. Come here, Pete. Easy, boy, it’s all right.”

He knew I was there and twice he looked at me, but otherwise ignored me. With cats it is one thing at a time; he had urgent business right now and no time to head-bump with Papa. But I knew he would come to me when his emotions had eased off.

While I squatted, waiting, I heard water running in their bathrooms and guessed that they had gone to clean up, leaving me in the living room. I had a horrid thought then: What would happen if I sneaked in and cut the throat of my own helpless body? But I suppressed it; I wasn’t that curious and suicide is such a final experiment, even if the circumstances are mathematically intriguing.

But I never have figured it out.

Besides, I didn’t want to go inside for any purpose. I might run into Miles—and I didn’t want any truck with a dead man.

Pete finally stopped in front of me about three feet out of reach. “Mrrrowrr?” he said—meaning, “Let’s go back and clean out the joint. You hit ’em high, I’ll hit ’em low.”

“No, boy. The show is over.” “Aw, c’mahnnn!”

“Time to go home, Pete. Come to Danny.” He sat down and started to wash himself. When he looked up, I put my arms out and he jumped into

them. “Kwleert?” (“Where the hell were you when the riot started?”)

I carried him back to the car and dumped him in the driver’s space, which was all there was left. He sniffed the hardware on his accustomed

place and looked around reproachfully. “You’ll have to sit in my lap,” I said. “Quit being fussy.”

I switched on the car’s lights as we hit the street. Then I turned east and headed for Big Bear and the Girl Scout camp. I chucked away enough of Frank in the first ten minutes to permit Pete to resume his rightful place, which suited us both better. When I had the floor clear, several miles later, I stopped and shoved the notes and drawings down a storm drain. The wheelchair chassis I did not get rid of until we were actually in the mountains, then it went down a deep arroyo, making a nice sound effect.

About three in the morning I pulled into a motor court across the road and down a bit from the turnoff into the Girl Scout camp, and paid too much for a cabin—Pete almost queered it by sticking his head up and making a comment when the owner came out.

“What time,” I asked him, “does the morning mail from Los Angeles get up here?” “Helicopter comes in at seven-thirteen, right on the dot.”

“Fine. Give me a call at seven, will you?”

“Mister, if you can sleep as late as seven around here you’re better than I am. But I’ll put you in the book.”

By eight o’clock Pete and I had eaten breakfast and I had showered and shaved. I looked Pete over in daylight and concluded that he had come through the battle undamaged except for possibly a bruise or two. We checked out and I drove into the private road for the camp. Uncle Sam’s truck turned in just ahead of me; I decided that it was my day.

I never saw so many little girls in my life. They skittered like kittens and they all looked alike in their green uniforms. Those I passed wanted to look at Pete, though most of them just stared shyly and did not approach. I went to a cabin marked “Headquarters,” where I spoke to another uniformed scout who was decidedly no longer a girl.

She was properly suspicious of me; strange men who want to be allowed to visit little girls just turning into big girls should always be suspected.

I explained that I was the child’s uncle, Daniel B. Davis by name, and that I had a message for the child concerning her family. She countered with the statement that visitors other than parents were permitted only when accompanied by a parent and, in any case, visiting hours were not until four o’clock.

“I don’t want to visit with Frederica, but I must give her this message. It’s an emergency.”

“In that case you can write it out and I will give it to her as soon as she is through with rhythm games.”

I looked upset (and was) and said, “I don’t want to do that. It would be much kinder to tell the child in person.” “Death in the family?”

“Not quite. Family trouble, yes. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am not free to tell anyone else. It concerns my niece’s mother.”

She was weakening but still undecided. Then Pete joined the discussion. I had been carrying him with his bottom in the crook of my left arm and his chest supported with my right hand; I had not wanted to leave him in the car and I knew Ricky would want to see him. He’ll put up with being carried that way quite a while but now he was getting bored. “Krrwarr?”

She looked at him and said, “He’s a fine boy, that one. I have a tabby at home who could have come from the same litter.”

I said solemnly, “He’s Frederica’s cat. I had to bring him along because …well, it was necessary. No one to take care of him.”

“Oh, the poor little fellow!” She scratched him under the chin, doing it properly, thank goodness, and Pete accepted it, thank goodness again, stretching his neck and closing his eyes and looking indecently pleased. He is capable of taking a very stiff line with strangers if he does not fancy their overtures.

The guardian of youth told me to sit down at a table under the trees outside the headquarters. It was far enough away to permit a private visit but still under her careful eye. I thanked her and waited.

I didn’t see Ricky come up. I heard a shout, “Uncle Danny!” and another one as I turned, “And you brought Pete! Oh, this is wonderful!

Pete gave a long bubbling bleerrrt and leaped from my arms to hers. She caught him neatly, rearranged him in the support position he likes best, and they ignored me for a few seconds while exchanging cat protocols. Then she looked up and said soberly, “Uncle Danny, I’m awful glad you’re here.”

I didn’t kiss her; I did not touch her at all. I’ve never been one to paw children and Ricky was the sort of little girl who only put up with it when she could not avoid it. Our original relationship, back when she was six, had been founded on mutual decent respect for the other’s individualism and personal dignity.

But I did look at her. Knobby knees, stringy, shooting up fast, not yet filled out, she was not as pretty as she had been as a baby girl. The shorts and T-shirt she was wearing, combined with peeling sunburn, scratches, bruises, and an understandable amount of dirt, did not add up to feminine glamour. She was a matchstick sketch of the woman she would become, her coltish gawkiness relieved only by her enormous solemn eyes and the pixie beauty of her thin smudged features.

She looked adorable.

I said, “And I’m awful glad to be here, Ricky.”

Trying awkwardly to manage Pete with one arm, she reached with her other hand for a bulging pocket in her shorts. “I’m surprised too. I just this minute got a letter from you—they dragged me away from mail call; I haven’t even had a chance to open it. Does it say that you’re coming today?” She got it out, creased and mussed from being crammed into a pocket too small.

“No, it doesn’t, Ricky. It says I’m going away. But after I mailed it, I decided I just had to come say good-bye in person.” She looked bleak and dropped her eyes. “You’re going away?”

“Yes. I’ll explain, Ricky, but it’s rather long. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you about it.” So we sat on opposite sides of the picnic table under the ponderosas and I talked. Pete lay on the table between us, making a library lion of himself with his forepaws on the creased letter, and sang a low song like bees buzzing in deep clover, while he narrowed his eyes in contentment.

I was much relieved to find that she already knew that Miles had married Belle—I hadn’t relished having to break that to her. She glanced up, dropped her eyes at once, and said with no expression at all, “Yes, I know. Daddy wrote me about it.”

“Oh. I see.”

She suddenly looked grim and not at all a child. “I’m not going back there, Danny. I wont go back there.”

“But—Look here, Rikki-tikki-tavi, I know how you feel. I certainly don’t want you to go back there—I’d take you away myself if I could. But how can

you help going back? He’s your daddy and you are only eleven.”

“I don’t have to go back. He’s not my real daddy. My grandmother is coming to get me.” “What? When’s she coming?”

“Tomorrow. She has to drive up from Brawley. I wrote her about it and asked her if I could come live with her because I wouldn’t live with Daddy

anymore with her there.” She managed to put more contempt into one pronoun than an adult could have squeezed out of profanity. “Grandma wrote back and said that I didn’t have to live there if I didn’t want to because he had never adopted me and she was my ‘guardian of record.’ ” She looked up anxiously. “That’s right, isn’t it? They can’t make me?”

I felt an overpowering flood of relief. The one thing I had not been able to figure out, a problem that had worried me for months, was how to keep Ricky from being subjected to the poisonous influence of Belle for—well, two years; it had seemed certain that it would be about two years. “If he never adopted you, Ricky, I’m certain that your grandmother can make it stick if you are both firm about it.” Then I frowned and chewed my lip. “But you may have some trouble tomorrow. They may object to letting you go with her.”

“How can they stop me? I’ll just get in the car and go.”

“It’s not that simple, Ricky. These people who run the camp, they have to follow rules. Your daddy—Miles, I mean—Miles turned you over to them; they won’t be willing to turn you back over to anyone but him.”

She stuck out her lower lip. “I won’t go. I’m going with Grandma.”

“Yes. But maybe I can tell you how to make it easy. If I were you, I wouldn’t tell them that I’m leaving camp; I’d just tell them that your grandmother wants to take you for a ride—then don’t come back.”

Some of her tension relaxed. “All right.”

“Uh…don’t pack a bag or anything or they may guess what you’re doing. Don’t try to take any clothes but those you are wearing at the time. Put any money or anything you really want to save into your pockets. You don’t have much here that you would really mind losing, I suppose?”

“I guess not.” But she looked wistful. “I’ve got a brand-new swimsuit.”

How do you explain to a child that there are times when you just must abandon your baggage? You can’t—they’ll go back into a burning building to save a doll or a toy elephant. “Mmm…Ricky, have your grandmother tell them that she is taking you over to Arrowhead to have a swim with her…and that she may take you to dinner at the hotel there, but that she will have you back before taps. Then you can carry your swimming suit and a towel. But nothing else. Er, will your grandmother tell that fib for you?”

“I guess so. Yes, I’m sure she will. She says people have to tell little white fibs or else people couldn’t stand each other. But she says fibs were meant to be used, not abused.”

“She sounds like a sensible person. You’ll do it that way?”

“I’ll do it just that way, Danny.”

“Good.” I picked up the battered envelope. “Ricky, I told you I had to go away. I have to go away for a very long time.” “How long?”

“Thirty years.”

Her eyes grew wider if possible. At eleven, thirty years is not a long time; it’s forever. I added, “I’m sorry, Ricky. But I have to.” “Why?”

I could not answer that one. The true answer was unbelievable and a lie would not do. “Ricky, it’s much too hard to explain. But I have to. I can’t help it.” I hesitated, then added, “I’m going to take the Long Sleep. The cold sleep—you know what I mean.”

She knew. Children get used to new ideas faster than adults do; cold sleep was a favorite comic-book theme. She looked horrified and

protested, “But, Danny, Ill never see you again!”

“Yes, you will. It’s a long time but I’ll see you again. And so will Pete. Because Pete is going with me; he’s going to cold-sleep too.”

She glanced at Pete and looked more woebegone than ever. “But—Danny, why don’t you and Pete just come down to Brawley and live with us? That would be ever so much better. Grandma will like Pete. She’ll like you too—she says there’s nothing like having a man around the house.”

“Ricky…dear Ricky…I have to. Please don’t tease me.” I started to tear open the envelope. She looked angry and her chin started to quiver. “I think she has something to do with this!”

“What? If you mean Belle, she doesn’t. Not exactly, anyway.”

“She’s not going to cold-sleep with you?”

I think I shuddered. “Good heavens, no! I’d run miles to avoid her.”

Ricky seemed slightly mollified. “You know, I was so mad at you about her. I had an awful outrage.”

“I’m sorry, Ricky. I’m truly sorry. You were right and I was wrong. But she hasn’t anything to do with this. I’m through with her, forever and forever

and cross my heart. Now about this.” I held up the certificate for all that I owned in Hired Girl, Inc. “Do you know what it is?” “No.”

I explained it to her. “I’m giving this to you, Ricky. Because I’m going to be gone so long I want you to have it.” I took the paper on which I had written an assignment to her, tore it up, and put the pieces in my pocket; I could not risk doing it that way—it would be too easy for Belle to tear up a separate sheet and we were not yet out of the woods. I turned the certificate over and studied the standard assignment form on the back, trying to plan how to word it in the spaces provided. I finally squeezed in an assignment to the Bank of America in trust for—“Ricky, what is your full name?”

“Frederica Virginia. Frederica Virginia Gentry. You know.”

“Is it ‘Gentry’? I thought you said Miles had never adopted you?”

“Oh! I’ve been Ricky Gentry as long as I can remember. But you mean my real name. It’s the same as Grandma’s…the same as my real daddy’s. Heinicke. But nobody ever calls me that.”

“They will now.” I wrote “Frederica Virginia Heinicke” and added “and to be reassigned to her on her twenty-first birthday” while prickles ran down my spine—my original assignment might have been defective in any case.

I started to sign and then noticed our watchdog sticking her head out of the office. I glanced at my wrist, saw that we had been talking an hour; I was running out of minutes.

But I wanted it nailed down tight. “Ma’am!” “Yes?”

“By any chance, is there a notary public around here? Or must I find one in the village?” “I am a notary. What do you wish?”

“Oh, good! Wonderful! Do you have your seal?” “I never go anywhere without it.”

So I signed my name under her eye and she even stretched a point (on Ricky’s assurance that she knew me and Pete’s silent testimony to my respectability as a fellow member of the fraternity of cat people) and used the long form: “—known to me personally as being said Daniel B. Davis

—” When she embossed her seal through my signature and her own I sighed with relief. Just let Belle try to find a way to twist that one!

She glanced at it curiously but said nothing. I said solemnly, “Tragedies cannot be undone but this will help. The kid’s education, you know.”

She refused a fee and went back into the office. I turned back to Ricky and said, “Give this to your grandmother. Tell her to take it to a branch of the Bank of America in Brawley. They’ll do everything else.” I laid it in front of her.

She did not touch it. “That’s worth a lot of money, isn’t it?” “Quite a bit. It will be worth more.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But, Ricky, I want you to have it.”

“I don’t want it. I won’t take it.” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice got unsteady. “You’re going away forever and…and you don’t care about me anymore.” She sniffed. “Just like when you got engaged to her. When you could just as easily bring Pete and come live with Grandma and me. I don’t want your money!”

“Ricky. Listen to me, Ricky. It’s too late. I couldn’t take it back now if I wanted to. It’s already yours.”

“I don’t care. I won’t ever touch it.” She reached out and stroked Pete. “Pete wouldn’t go away and leave me…only you’re going to make him. Now I won’t even have Pete.”

I answered unsteadily, “Ricky? Rikki-tikki-tavi? You want to see Pete …and me again?” I could hardly hear her. “Of course I do. But I won’t.”

“But you can.”

“Huh? How? You said you were going to take the Long Sleep…thirty years, you said.”

“And I am. I have to. But, Ricky, here is what you can do. Be a good girl, go live with your grandmama, go to school—and just let this money pile up. When you are twenty-one—if you still want to see us—you’ll have enough money to take the Long Sleep yourself. When you wake up I’ll be there waiting for you. Pete and I will both be waiting for you. That’s a solemn promise.”

Her expression changed but she did not smile. She thought about it quite a long time, then said, “You’ll really be there?”

“Yes. But we’ll have to make a date. If you do it, Ricky, do it just the way I tell you. You arrange it with the Cosmopolitan Insurance Company and you make sure that you take your Sleep in the Riverside Sanctuary in Riverside…and you make very sure that they have orders to wake you up on the first day of May, 2001, exactly. I’ll be there that day, waiting for you. If you want me to be there when you first open your eyes, you’ll have to leave word for that, too, or they won’t let me farther than the waiting room—I know that sanctuary; they’re very fussy.” I took out an envelope which I had prepared before I left Denver. “You don’t have to remember this; I’ve got it all written out for you. Just save it, and on your twenty-first birthday you

can make up your mind. But you can be sure that Pete and I will be there waiting for you, whether you show up or not.” I laid the prepared

instructions on the stock certificate.

I thought that I had her convinced but she did not touch either of them. She stared at them, then presently said, “Danny?” “Yes, Ricky?”

She would not look up and her voice was so low that I could barely hear her. But I did hear her. “If I do…will you marry me?”

My ears roared and the lights flickered. But I answered steadily and much louder than she had spoken. “Yes, Ricky. That’s what I want. That’s why I’m doing this.”

I HAD JUST ONE more thing to leave with her: a prepared envelope marked “To Be Opened in the Event of the Death of Miles Gentry.” I did not explain it to her; I just told her to keep it. It contained proof of Belle’s varied career, matrimonial and otherwise. In the hands of a lawyer it should make a court fight over his will no contest at all.

Then I gave her my class ring from Tech (it was all I had) and told her it was hers; we were engaged. “It’s too big for you but you can keep it. I’ll have another one for you when you wake up.”

She held it tight in her fist. “I won’t want another one.”

“All right. Now better tell Pete good-bye, Ricky. I’ve got to go. I can’t wait a minute longer.”

She hugged Pete, then handed him back to me, looked me steadily in the eye even though tears were running down her nose and leaving clean streaks. “Good-bye, Danny.”

“Not ‘good-bye,’ Ricky. Just ‘so long.’ We’ll be waiting for you.”

IT WAS A QUARTER of ten when I got back to the village. I found that a helicopter bus was due to leave for the center of the city in twenty-five minutes, so I sought out the only used-car lot and made one of the fastest deals in history, letting my car go for half what it was worth for cash in hand at once. It left me just time to sneak Pete into the bus (they are fussy about airsick cats) and we reached Powell’s office just after eleven o’clock.

Powell was much annoyed that I had canceled my arrangements for Mutual to handle my estate and was especially inclined to lecture me over having lost my papers. “I can’t very well ask the same judge to pass on your committal twice in the same twenty-four hours. It’s most irregular.”

I waved money at him, cash money with convincing figures on it. “Never mind eating me out about it, Sergeant. Do you want my business or don’t you? If not, say so, and I’ll beat it on up to Central Valley. Because I’m going today.”

He still fumed but he gave in. Then he grumbled about adding six months to the cold-sleep period and did not want to guarantee an exact date of awakening. “The contracts ordinarily read ‘plus or minus one month’ to allow for administrative hazards.”

“This one doesn’t. This one reads 27 April 2001. But I don’t care whether it says ‘Mutual’ at the top or ‘Central Valley.’ Mr. Powell, I’m buying and you’re selling. If you don’t sell what I want to buy I’ll go where they do sell it.”

He changed the contract and we both initialed it.

At twelve straight up I was back in for my final check with their medical examiner. He looked at me. “Did you stay sober?” “Sober as a judge.”

“That’s no recommendation. We’ll see.” He went over me almost as carefully as he had “yesterday.” At last he put down his rubber hammer and said, “I’m surprised. You’re in much better shape than you were yesterday. Amazingly so.”

“Doc, you don’t know the half of it.”

I held Pete and soothed him while they gave him the first sedative. Then I lay back myself and let them work on me. I suppose I could have waited another day, or even longer, just as well as not—but the truth was that I was frantically anxious to get back to 2001.

About four in the afternoon, with Pete’s flat head resting on my chest, I went happily to sleep again.

XII

MY DREAMS WERE pleasanter this time. The only bad one I remember was not too bad, but simply endless frustration. It was a cold dream in which I wandered shivering through branching corridors, trying every door I came to, thinking that the next one would surely be the Door into Summer, with Ricky waiting on the other side. I was hampered by Pete, “following me ahead of me,” that exasperating habit cats have of scalloping back and forth between the legs of persons trusted not to step on them or kick them.

At each new door he would duck between my feet, look out it, find it still winter outside, and reverse himself, almost tripping me. But neither one of us gave up his conviction that the next door would be the right one.

I woke up easily this time, with no disorientation—in fact the doctor was somewhat irked that all I wanted was some breakfast, the Great Los Angeles Times, and no chitchat. I didn’t think it was worthwhile to explain to him that this was my second time around; he would not have believed me.

There was a note waiting for me, dated a week earlier, from John:

Dear Dan,

All right, I give up. How did you do it?

I’m complying with your request not to be met, against Jenny’s wishes. She sends her love and hopes that you won’t be too long in looking us up

—I’ve tried to explain to her that you expect to be busy for a while. We are both fine although I tend to walk where I used to run. Jenny is even more beautiful than she used to be.

Hasta la vista, amigo,

John

P.S. If the enclosure is not enough, just phone—there is plenty more where it came from. We’ve done pretty well, I think.

I considered calling John, both to say hello and to tell him about a colossal new idea I had had while asleep—a gadget to change bathing from a chore to a sybaritic delight. But I decided not to; I had other things on my mind. So I made notes while the notion was fresh and then got some sleep, with Pete’s head tucked into my armpit. I wish I could cure him of that. It’s flattering but a nuisance.

On Monday, the thirtieth of April, I checked out and went over to Riverside, where I got a room in the old Mission Inn. They made the predictable fuss about taking a cat into a room and an autobellhop is not responsive to bribes—hardly an improvement. But the assistant manager had more flexibility in his synapses; he listened to reason as long as it was crisp and rustled. I did not sleep well; I was too excited.

I presented myself to the director of the Riverside Sanctuary at ten o’clock the next morning. “Dr. Rumsey, my name is Daniel B. Davis. You have a committed client here named Frederica Heinicke?”

“I suppose you can identify yourself ?”

I showed him a 1970 driver’s license issued in Denver, and my withdrawal certificate from Forest Lawn Sanctuary. He looked them over and me, and handed them back. I said anxiously, “I think she’s scheduled for withdrawal today. By any chance, are there any instructions to permit me to be present? I don’t mean the processing routines; I mean at the last minute, when she’s ready for the final restimulant and consciousness.”

He shoved his lips out and looked judicial. “Our instructions for this client do not read to wake her today.” “No?” I felt disappointed and hurt.

“No. Her exact wishes are as follows: Instead of necessarily being waked today, she wished not to be waked at all until you showed up.” He looked me over and smiled. “You must have a heart of gold. I can’t account for it on your beauty.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Doctor.”

“You can wait in the lobby or come back. We won’t need you for a couple of hours.”

I went back to the lobby, got Pete, and took him for a walk. I had parked him there in his new travel bag and he was none too pleased with it, even though I had bought one as much like his old one as possible and had installed a one-way window in it the night before. It probably didn’t smell right as yet.

We passed the “real nice place,” but I was not hungry even though I hadn’t been able to eat much breakfast—Pete had eaten my eggs and had turned up his nose at yeast strips. At eleven-thirty I was back at the sanctuary. Finally they let me in to see her.

All I could see was her face; her body was covered. But it was my Ricky, grown woman size and looking like a slumbering angel.

“She’s under posthypnotic instruction,” Dr. Rumsey said softly. “If you will stand just there, I’ll bring her up. Uh, I think you had better put that cat outside.”

“No, Doctor.”

He started to speak, shrugged, turned back to his patient. “Wake up, Frederica. Wake up. You must wake up now.”

Her eyelids fluttered, she opened her eyes. They wandered for an instant, then she caught sight of us and smiled sleepily. “Danny…and Pete.” She raised both arms—and I saw that she was wearing my Tech class ring on her left thumb.

Pete chirrlupped and jumped on the bed, started doing shoulder dives against her in an ecstasy of welcome.

DR. RUMSEY WANTED her to stay overnight, but Ricky would have none of it. So I had a cab brought to the door and we jumped to Brawley. Her grandmother had died in 1980 and her social links there had gone by attrition, but she had left things in storage there—books mostly. I ordered them shipped to Aladdin, care of John Sutton. Ricky was a little dazzled by the changes in her old home town and never let go my arm, but she never succumbed to that terrible homesickness which is the great hazard of the Sleep. She merely wanted to get out of Brawley as quickly as possible.

So I hired another cab and we jumped to Yuma. There I signed the county clerk’s book in a fine round hand, using my full name “Daniel Boone Davis,” so that there could be no possible doubt as to which D. B. Davis had designed this magnum opus. A few minutes later I was standing with her little hand in mine and choking over, “I, Daniel, take thee, Frederica…till death us do part.”

Pete was my best man. The witnesses we scraped up in the courthouse.

WE GOT OUT of Yuma at once and jumped to a guest ranch near Tucson, where we had a cabin away from the main lodge and equipped with

our own Eager Beaver to fetch and carry so that we did not need to see anyone. Pete fought a monumental battle with the tom who until then had been boss of the ranch, whereupon we had to keep Pete in or watch him. This was the only shortcoming I can think of. Ricky took to being married as if she had invented it, and me—well, I had Ricky.

THERE ISN’T MUCH more to be said. Voting Ricky’s Hired Girl stock—it was still the largest single block—I had McBee eased upstairs to “Research Engineer Emeritus” and put Chuck in as chief engineer. John is boss of Aladdin but keeps threatening to retire—an idle threat. He and I and Jenny control the company, since he was careful to issue preferred stock and to float bonds rather than surrender control. I’m not on the board of either corporation; I don’t run them and they compete. Competition is a good idea—Darwin thought well of it.

Me, I’m just the “Davis Engineering Company”—a drafting room, a small shop, and an old machinist who thinks I’m crazy but follows my drawings to exact tolerance. When we finish something I put it out for license.

I had my notes on Twitchell recovered. Then I wrote and told him I had made it and returned via cold sleep…and apologized abjectly for having “doubted” him. I asked if he wanted to see the manuscript when I finished. He never answered so I guess he is still sore at me.

But I am writing it and I’ll put it in all major libraries even if I have to publish at my own expense. I owe him that much. I owe him much more; I owe him for Ricky. And for Pete. I’m going to title it Unsung Genius.

Jenny and John look as if they would last forever. Thanks to geriatrics, fresh air, sunshine, exercise, and a mind that never worries, Jenny is

prettier than ever at…well, sixty-three is my guess. John thinks that I am “merely” clairvoyant and does not want to look at the evidence. Well, how did I do it? I tried to explain it to Ricky, but she got upset when I told her that while we were on our honeymoon I was actually and no foolin’ also up at Boulder, and that while I was visiting her at the Girl Scout camp I was also lying in a drugged stupor in San Fernando Valley.

She turned white. So I said, “Let’s put it hypothetically. It’s all logical when you look at it mathematically. Suppose we take a guinea pig—white with brown splotches. We put him in the time cage and kick him back a week. But a week earlier we had already found him there, so at that time we had put him in a pen with himself. Now we’ve got two guinea pigs…although actually it’s just one guinea pig, one being the other one a week older. So when you took one of them and kicked him back a week and—”

“Wait a minute! Which one?”

“Which one? Why, there never was but one. You took the one a week younger, of course, because—”

“You said there was just one. Then you said there were two. Then you said the two was just one. But you were going to take one of the two…when there was just one—”

“I’m trying to explain how two can be just one. If you take the younger—” “How can you tell which guinea pig is younger when they look just alike?”

“Well, you could cut off the tail of the one you are sending back. Then when it came back you would—” “Why, Danny, how cruel! Besides, guinea pigs don’t have tails.”

She seemed to think that proved something. I should never have tried to explain.

But Ricky is not one to fret over things that aren’t important. Seeing that I was upset, she said softly, “Come here, dear.” She rumpled what hair I have left and kissed me. “One of you is all I want, dearest. Two might be more than I could manage. Tell me one thing—are you glad you waited for me to grow up?”

I did my darnedest to convince her that I was.

But the explanation I tried to give does not explain everything. I missed a point even though I was riding the merry-go-round myself and counting the revolutions. Why didn’t I see the notice of my own withdrawal? I mean the second one, in April 2001, not the one in December 2000. I should have; I was there and I used to check those lists. I was awakened (second time) on Friday, 27 April 2001; it should have been in next morning’s

Times. But I did not see it. I’ve looked it up since and there it is: “D. B. Davis,” in the Times for Saturday, 28 April 2001.

Philosophically, just one line of ink can make a different universe as surely as having the continent of Europe missing. Is the old “branching time

streams” and “multiple universes” notion correct? Did I bounce into a different universe, different because I had monkeyed with the setup? Even

though I found Ricky and Pete in it? Is there another universe somewhere (or somewhen) in which Pete yowled until he despaired, then wandered off to fend for himself, deserted? And in which Ricky never managed to flee with her grandmother but had to suffer the vindictive wrath of Belle?

One line of fine print isn’t enough. I probably fell asleep that night and missed reading my own name, then stuffed the paper down the chute next

morning, thinking I had finished with it. I am absent-minded, particularly when I’m thinking about a job.

But what would I have done if I had seen it? Gone there, met myself—and gone stark mad? No, for if I had seen it, I wouldn’t have done the things I did afterward—“afterward” for me—which led up to it. Therefore it could never have happened that way. The control is a negative feedback type, with a built-in “fail safe,” because the very existence of that line of print depended on my not seeing it; the apparent possibility that I might have seen it is one of the excluded “not possibles” of the basic circuit design.

“There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.” Free will and predestination in one sentence and both true. There is only one real world, with one past and one future. “As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen.” Just one…but big enough and complicated enough to include free will and time travel and everything else in its linkages and feedbacks and guard circuits. You’re

allowed to do anything inside the rules…but you come back to your own door.

I’m not the only person who has time-traveled. Fort listed too many cases not explainable otherwise and so did Ambrose Bierce. And there were those two ladies in the gardens of the Trianon. I have a hunch, too, that old Doc Twitchell closed that switch oftener than he admitted…to say nothing of others who may have learned how in the past or future. But I doubt if much ever comes of it. In my case only three people know and two don’t believe me. You can’t do much if you do time-travel. As Fort said, you railroad only when it comes time to railroad.

But I can’t get Leonard Vincent out of my mind. Was he Leonardo da Vinci? Did he beat his way across the continent and go back with Columbus? The encyclopedia says that his life was such-and-such—but he might have revised the record. I know how that is; I’ve had to do a little of it. They didn’t have social-security numbers, ID cards, nor fingerprints in fifteenth-century Italy; he could have swung it.

But think of him, marooned from everything he was used to, aware of flight, of power, of a million things, trying desperately to picture them so that they could be made—but doomed to frustration because you simply can’t do the things we do today without centuries of former art to build on.

Tantalus had it easier.

I’ve thought about what could be done with time travel commercially if it were declassified—making short jumps, setting up machinery to get back, taking along components. But someday you’d make one jump too many and not be able to set up for your return because it’s not time to “railroad.” Something simple, like a special alloy, could whip you. And there is that truly awful hazard of not knowing which way you are going. Imagine winding up at the court of Henry VIII with a load of subflexive fasartas intended for the twenty-fifth century. Being becalmed in the horse

latitudes would be better.

No, you should never market a gadget until the bugs are out of it.

But I’m not worried about “paradoxes” or “causing anachronisms”—if a thirtieth-century engineer does smooth out the bugs and then sets up transfer stations and trade, it will be because the Builder designed the universe that way. He gave us eyes, two hands, a brain; anything we do with them cant be a paradox. He doesn’t need busybodies to “enforce” His laws; they enforce themselves. There are no miracles and the word “anachronism” is a semantic blank.

But I don’t worry about philosophy any more than Pete does. Whatever the truth about this world, I like it. I’ve found my Door into Summer and I would not time-travel again for fear of getting off at the wrong station. Maybe my son will, but if he does I will urge him to go forward, not back. “Back” is for emergencies; the future is better than the past. Despite the crepehangers, romanticists, and anti-intellectuals, the world steadily grows better because the human mind, applying itself to environment, makes it better. With hands…with tools…with horse sense and science and engineering.

Most of these long-haired belittlers can’t drive a nail nor use a slide rule. I’d like to invite them into Dr. Twitchell’s cage and ship them back to the twelfth century—then let them enjoy it.

But I am not mad at anybody and I like now. Except that Pete is getting older, a little fatter, and not as inclined to choose a younger opponent; all too soon he must take the very Long Sleep. I hope with all my heart that his gallant little soul may find its Door into Summer, where catnip fields abound and tabbies are complacent, and robot opponents are programmed to fight fiercely—but always lose—and people have friendly laps and legs to strop against, but never a foot that kicks.

Ricky is getting fat, too, but for a temporary happier reason. It has just made her more beautiful and her sweet eternal Yea! is unchanged, but it isn’t comfortable for her. I’m working on gadgets to make things easier. It just isn’t very convenient to be a woman; something ought to be done and

I’m convinced that some things can be done. There’s that matter of leaning over, and also the backaches—I’m working on those, and I’ve built her a

hydraulic bed that I think I will patent. It ought to be easier to get in and out of a bathtub than it is too. I haven’t solved that yet.

For old Pete I’ve built a “cat bathroom” to use in bad weather—automatic, self-replenishing, sanitary, and odorless. However, Pete, being a

proper cat, prefers to go outdoors, and he has never given up his conviction that if you just try all the doors one of them is bound to be the Door into Summer.

You know, I think he is right.

The End

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The Road to the Rim (full text) in free HTML by A. Bertram Chandler

When I was a young teenager, I voraciously read science fiction stories like they were going out of style. I couldn’t help myself. I loved the adventure. I loved the stories about outer space. I loved exploration, and shiny metal mechanisms. I loved to hear the heroes get in and out of their particular predicaments. And as such, I read all the “classics”, from anthologies to Heinlein, Bradbury, Asimov, and many others. One of my favorites (alongside my collection of Doc Savage books) was the hundreds of stories by A. Bertram Chandler and his John Grimes saga.

This was around the time of Star Trek (the first season) and before Star Wars or any of the subsequent movies. Boys like myself read these adventure yarns and imagined that we commanded those slick needle-shaped silver rockets and plied the depths of space.

The idea of a “space opera” during the 1960’s and 1970’s was one in which a lone person would explore the heavens as part of some kind of military or merchant marine operation. It was short in space battles and infra-cannons, phasers, and photon-torpedoes. But long on adventure, inter-personal relationships and situational conflicts. I ate it up.

A. Bertram Chandler

A. Bertram Chandler wrote over 40 novels and 200 works of short fiction.

“He writes his stories in the middle of a hurricane with his typewriter lashed to his desk.” 

– John W. Campbell, legendary editor of Astounding Science Fiction

Chandler’s descriptions of life aboard spaceships and the relationships between members of the crew en route derive from his experience on board seagoing ships and thus carry a feeling of realism rarely found with other writers.

He was most well known for his Rim World series and John Grimes novels, both of which have a distinctly naval flavor. In the latter, Chandler’s principal hero John Grimes is an enthusiastic sailor who has occasional adventures on the oceans of various planets.

In the books, there is a repeated reference to an obsolete type of magnetically powered spaceship known as the “Gaussjammer”, remembered nostalgically by “old timers” – which is modeled on the Windjammer.

Chandler made heavy use of the parallel universe plot device throughout his career, with many Grimes stories involving characters briefly crossing over into other realities.

In his ironic short story "The Cage", a band of shipwrecked humans wandering naked in the jungles of a faraway planet are captured by aliens and placed in a zoo, where, failing in all their efforts to convince their captors that they are intelligent, some are dissected. Eventually they become resigned to captivity and adopt a small local rodent as a pet, placing him in a wicker cage. Seeing this, their captors apologize for the mistake and repatriate them to Earth, remarking that "only intelligent creatures put other creatures in cages".

Sex is frequent in Chandler’s books, often in free fall. Women on board are typically pursers or passengers; far less often are they regular officers in the chain of command. Chandler’s protagonists are quite prone to affairs and promiscuous behavior, but are also shown falling in love and undertaking long-lasting, harmonious marriages.

The combination of science fiction, life as a starship caption, adventure and sexy relationships in parallel universes was addictive to me. I couldn’t put these books down, and often I would find myself exploring old second-hand booksellers searching for a new and unread Chandler book.

Commander Grimes

"SF's answer to Horatio Hornblower." --Publishers Weekly

Pipe-smoking, action-loving spaceship commander John Grimes (think Captain Kirk with more of a navy, salty attitude) retires from heroic days in Earth’s space navy only to be immediately thrown into adventures on the remote edge of known space…

"As Asimov chronicled the Foundation, as Heinlein built his Future History, so Chandler constructs the epic of the Rim Worlds." --Analog

This is the very first book in the John Grimes story / saga. Please enjoy it as much as I have.

The Road to the Rim

The Road to the Rim.
The Road to the Rim.

Lieutenant John Grimes of the Federation Survey Service: fresh out of the Academy-and as green as they come!

“What do you think you’re playing at?”

“Captain,” said Wolverton, “I can no more than guess at what you intend to do-but I have decided not to help you do it.”

“Give me the initiator, Wolverton. That’s an order!

“A lawful command, Captain? As lawful as those that armed this ship?” “Hold him, Grimes!”

. . . They hung there, clinging to each other, but more in hate than in love. Wolverton’s back was to the machine; he could not see, as could Grimes, that there was an indraught of air into the shimmering, spinning  complexity. Grimes felt the beginnings of panic . . . all that mattered was that there was nothing to prevent him and Wolverton from being drawn into the machine . . . .Violently Grimes shoved away. To the action, there was a reaction . . .

When he had finished retching, Grimes forced himself to look again at the slimy, bloody obscenity that was a man turned inside out-heart still beating, intestines still writhing . . .

I

HIS UNIFORM was new, too new, all knife-edged creases, and the braid and buttons as yet un-dimmed by time. It sat awkwardly upon his chunky

body-and even more awkwardly his big ears protruded from under the cap that was set too squarely upon his head. Beneath the shiny visor his eyes were gray (but not yet hard), and his face, for all its promise of strength, was as yet unlined, had yet to lose its immature softness. He stood at the foot of the ramp by which he had disembarked from the transport that had carried him from the Antarctic Base to Port Woomera, looking across the silver towers that were the ships, interplanetary and interstellar, gleaming in the desert. The westering sun was hot on his back, but he did not notice the discomfort. There were the ships, the real ships-not obsolescent puddle-jumpers like the decrepit cruiser in which he, with the other midshipmen of his class, had made the training cruise to the moons of Saturn. There were the ships, the star ships, that span their web of commerce from Earth to the Centaurian planets, to the Cluster Worlds, to the Empire of Waverley, to the Shakespearian Sector and beyond.

(But they’re only merchantmen, he thought, with a young man’s snobbery.) He wondered in which one of the vessels he would be taking passage.

Merchantman or not, that big ship, the one that stood out from her

neighbors like a city skyscraper among village church steeples, looked a likely enough craft. He pulled the folder containing his orders from his inside breast pocket, opened it, read (not for the second time, even), the

relevant page.

. . . you are to report on board the Interstellar Transport Commission’s Delta Orionis . . .

He was not a spaceman yet, in spite of his uniform, but he knew the Commission’s system of nomenclature. There was the Alpha class, and the Beta class, and there were the Gamma and Delta classes. He grinned wryly. His ship was one of the smaller ones. Well, at least he would not be traveling to Lindisfarne Base in an Epsilon class tramp.

Ensign John Grimes, Federation Survey Service, shrugged his broad shoulders and stepped into the ground car waiting to carry him and his baggage from the airport to the spaceport.

II

GRIMES LOOKED at the officer standing just inside Delta Orionis’ airlock, and she looked at him. He felt the beginnings of a flush spreading over his face, a prickling of the roots of his close-cropped hair, and felt all the more embarrassed by this public display of his embarrassment. But spaceborn female officers, at this time, were almost as scarce as hens’ teeth in the Survey Service-and such few as he had met all looked as though they shared a common equine ancestry. It was all wrong, thought Grimes. It was unfair that this girl (this attractive girl) should already be a veteran of interstellar voyages while he, for all his uniform and commission, should be embarking upon his first, his very first trip outside the bounds of the Solar System. He let his glance fall from her face (but not without reluctance), to the braid on her shoulderboards. Gold on a white facing. So it wasn’t too bad. She was only some sort of paymaster-or, to use Merchant Service terminology, only some sort of purser.

She said, her clear, high voice almost serious, “Welcome aboard the Delia O’Ryan, Admiral.”

“Ensign,” corrected Grimes stiffly. “Ensign Grimes . . .”

  • . . . of the Federation Survey Service,” she finished for him. “But you are all potential admirals.” There was the faintest of smiles flickering upon her full lips, a barely discernible crinkling at the corners of her eyes. Her brown eyes, thought Grimes. Brown eyes, and what I can see of her hair under that cap seems to be auburn . . .

She glanced at her wristwatch. She told him, her voice now crisp and businesslike, “We lift ship in precisely ten minutes’ time, Ensign.”

“Then I’d better get my gear along to my cabin, Miss . . . ?”

“I’ll look after that, Mr. Grimes. Meanwhile, Captain Craven sends his compliments and invites you to the Control Room.”

“Thank you.” Grimes looked past and around the girl, trying to discover for himself the door that gave access to the ship’s axial shaft. He was determined not to ask.

“It’s labeled,” she told him with a faint smile. “And the cage is waiting at

this level. Just take it up as far as it goes, then walk the rest. Or do you want a pilot?”

“I can manage,” he replied more coldly than he had intended, adding, “thank you.” He could see the sign over the door now. It was plain enough. AXIAL SHAFT. So was the button that he had to press to open the door-but the girl pressed it for him. He thanked her again-and this time his coldness was fully intentional-and stepped into the cage. The door slid shut behind him. The uppermost of the studs on the elevator’s control panel was marked CAPTAIN’S DECK. He pushed it, then stood there and watched the lights flashing on the panel as he was swiftly lifted to the nose of the ship.

When he was carried no further he got out, found himself on a circular walk surrounding the upper extremity of the axial shaft. On the outside of the shaft itself there was a ladder. After a second’s hesitation he climbed it, emerged through a hatch into the control room.

It was like the control room of the cruiser in which he had made his training cruise-and yet subtly (or not so subtly), unlike it. Everything- but so had it been aboard the Survey Service vessel-was functional, but there was an absence of high polish, of polishing for polishing’s sake. Instruments gleamed-but it was the dull gleam that comes from long and continual use, and matched the dull gleam of the buttons and rank marks on the uniforms of the officers already seated at their stations, the spacemen to whom, after all, a uniform was no more (and no less), than an obligatory working rig.

The big man with the four gold bars on each shoulder half turned his head as Grimes came up through the hatch. “Glad to have you aboard, Ensign,” he said perfunctorily. “Grab yourself a seat-there’s a spare one alongside the Mate’s. Sorry there’s no time for introductions right now. We’re due to get upstairs.”

“Here!” grunted one of the officers.

Grimes made his way to the vacant acceleration chair, dropped into it, strapped himself in. While he was so doing he heard the Captain ask, “All secure, Mr. Kennedy?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why the hell not?”

“I’m still waiting for the purser’s report, sir.”

“Are you?” Then, with a long-suffering sigh, “I suppose she’s still tucking some passenger into her-or his-bunk . . . .”

“She could still be stowing some passenger’s gear, sir,” contributed Grimes. “Mine,” he added.

“Indeed?” The Captain’s voice was cold and elaborately uninterested. Over the intercom came a female voice. “Purser to Control. All secure

below.”

“And bloody well time,” grumbled the shipmaster. Then, to the officer at the transceiver, “Mr. Digby, kindly obtain clearance.”

“Obtain clearance, sir,” acknowledged that young man brightly. Then, into his microphone, “Delta Orionis to Port Control. Request clearance to lift ship. Over.”

“Port Control to Delta Orionis. You may lift. Bon voyage. Over.” “Thank you, Port Control. Over and out.”

Then the ship was throbbing to the rhythmic beat of her Inertial Drive, and Grimes felt that odd sense of buoyancy, of near weightlessness, that persisted until the vessel broke contact with the ground-and then the still gentle acceleration induced the reverse effect. He looked out through the nearest viewport. Already the ocher surface of the desert, streaked by the long, black shadows of ships and spaceport buildings, was far below them, with the vessels and the immobile constructions looking like toys, and one or two surface vehicles like scurrying insects. Far to the north, dull-ruddy against the blue of the sky, there was a sandstorm. If that sky were darker, thought Grimes, this would look like Mars, and the mental comparison reminded him that he, too, was a spaceman, that he, too, had been around (although only within the bounds of Sol’s planetary system). Even so, he was Survey Service, and these others with him in Control were only merchant officers, fetchers and carriers, interstellar coach and truck drivers. (But he envied them their quiet competency.)

Still the ship lifted, and the spaceport below her dwindled, and the land horizon to the north and the now visible sea horizon to the south began to display the beginnings of curvature. Still she lifted, and overhead the sky was dark, and the first bright stars, Sirius and Canopus, Alpha and Beta Centauri, were sparkling there, beckoning, as they had beckoned for ages immemorial before the first clumsy rocket clambered heavenward up the ladder of its own fiery exhaust, before the first airplane spread its flimsy wings, before the first balloon was lifted by the hot, expanding gases from its airborne furnace . . . .

“Mr. Grimes,” said the Captain suddenly, his voice neither friendly nor unfriendly.

“Sir?”

“We lift on I.D. until we’re clear of the Van Allens.”

“I know, sir,” said Grimes-then wished that he could unsay the words. But it was too late. He was conscious of the shipmaster’s hostile silence, of the amused contempt of the merchant officers. He shrank into his chair, tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. The ship’s people talked among themselves in low voices, ignoring him. They allowed themselves a period  of relaxation, producing and lighting cigarettes. Nobody offered the Ensign one.

Sulkily he fumbled for his pipe, filled it, lighted it. The Chief Officer coughed with quite unnecessary vigor. The Captain growled, “Put that out, please,” and muttered something about stinking out the control room. He,

himself, was puffing at a villainous black cigar.

The ship lifted, and below her the Earth was now a great sphere,

three-quarters in darkness, the line of the terminator drawn across land masses, cloud formations and oceans. City lights twinkled in the gloom like star clusters, like nebulae. In a quiet voice an officer was calling readings from the radar altimeter.

To the throbbing of the Inertial Drive was added the humming, shrilling to a whine, of the directional gyroscopes as the ship turned about her short axis hunting the target star. The pseudo-gravity of centrifugal force was at an odd angle to that of acceleration-and the resultant was at an odder angle still. Grimes began to feel sick-and was actually thankful that the Captain had made him put his pipe out. Alarm bells sounded, and then somebody was saying over the intercom. “Prepare for acceleration. Prepare for acceleration. Listen for the countdown.”

The countdown. Part of the long tradition of space travel, a hangover from the days of the first, unreliable rockets. Spaceships still used rockets-but only as auxiliaries, as a means of delivering thrust in a hurry, of building up acceleration in a short time.

At the word Zero! the Inertial Drive was cut and, simultaneously, the Reaction Drive flared into violent life. The giant hand of acceleration bore down heavily upon all in the ship-then, suddenly, at a curt order from the Captain, lifted.

Grimes became aware of a thin, high keening, the song of the

ever-precessing gyroscopes of the Mannschenn Drive. He knew the theory of it-as what spaceman did not?-although the mathematics of it were beyond the comprehension of all but a handful of men and women. He knew what was happening, knew that the ship, now that speed had been built up, was, as one of his instructors had put it, going ahead in space and astern in  time. He felt, as he had been told that he would feel, the uncanny  sensation of d‚j… vu, and watched the outlines of the control room and of every person and instrument in the compartment shift and shimmer, the colors sagging down the spectrum.

Ahead, the stars were pulsating spirals of opalescence, astern, Earth and Moon were frighteningly distorted, uncanny compromises between the sphere and the tesseract. But this was no more than the merest subliminal glimpse; in the twinkling of an eye the Home Planet and her daughter were no more than dust motes whirling down the dark dimensions.

The Captain lit a fresh cigar. “Mr. Kennedy,” he said, “you may set normal Deep Space watches.” He turned to Grimes. His full beard almost hid his expression, that of one performing a social duty with no enthusiasm. “Will you join me in my day cabin, Ensign?”

“It will be my pleasure, sir,” lied Grimes. III

HANDLING HIS BIG BODY with easy grace in the Free Fall conditions, the Captain led the way from the control room. Grimes followed slowly and

clumsily, but with a feeling of great thankfulness that after his training cruise he was no longer subject to spacesickness. There were drugs, of course, and passengers used them, but a spaceman was expected to be independent of pharmaceutical aids. Even so, the absence of any proper “up” or “down” bothered him more than he cared to admit.

The shipmaster slid open the door to his accommodation, motioned to Grimes to enter, murmuring sardonically, “Now you see how the poor live.” The so-called poor, thought Grimes, didn’t do at all badly. This Deep Space sitting room was considerably larger than the day cabin of the Survey Service cruiser’s Captain had been. True, it was also shabbier-but it was far more comfortable. Its decorations would never have been approved aboard a warship, were obviously the private property of the Master. There were a full dozen holograms on the bulkhead, all of them widely differing but all of them covering the same subject matter. Not that the subject matter was covered.

“My harem,” grunted the Captain. “That one there, the redhead, I met on Caribbea. Quite a stopover that was. The green-haired wench-and you can see that it’s not a dye job, although I’ve often wondered why women can’t be thorough- isn’t human, of course. But indubitably humanoid, and indubitably mammalian. Belongs to Brrrooonooorrrooo-one of the worlds of the Shaara Empire. The local Queen Mother offered to sell Lalia-that’s her name-to me for a case of Scotch. And I was tempted . . .” He sighed. “But you Service Survey types aren’t the only ones who have to live by Regulations.”

Grimes said nothing, tried to hide his interest in the art gallery.

“But take a pew, Ensign. Spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard-this is Liberty Hall.”

Grimes pulled himself to one of the comfortable chairs, strapped himself in. He said lamely, “I don’t see any cat, sir.”

“A figure of speech,” growled the Captain, seating himself next to what looked like a drink cabinet. “Well, Mr. Grimes, your Commandant at the Academy, Commodore Bradshaw, is an old friend and shipmate of mine. He said that you were a very promising young officer”-like a balloon in a comic strip the unspoken words, “God knows why,” hung between them-“and asked me to keep an eye on you. But I have already gained the impression that there is very little that a mere merchant skipper such as myself will be able to teach you.”

Grimes looked at the bulky figure seated opposite him, at the

radiation-darkened skin of the face above the black, silver-streaked beard, at the fiercely jutting nose, at the faded but bright and intelligent blue eyes, the eyes that were regarding him with more than a hint of amused contempt. He blushed miserably as he recalled his brash, “I know, sir,” in this man’s own control room. He said, with an effort, “This is my first Deep Space voyage, sir.”

“I know.” Surprisingly the Captain chuckled-and as though to celebrate this minor scoring over his guest opened the liquor cabinet. “Pity to have to

suck this excellent Manzanila out of a bulb-but that’s one of the hardships of Free Fall. Here!” He tossed a little pear-shaped container to Grimes, kept one for himself. “Your health, Ensign!”

“And yours, sir.”

The wine was too dry for Grimes’ taste, but he made a pretense of enjoying it. He was thankful that he was not asked to have a second drink. Meanwhile, his host had pulled a typewritten sheet from a drawer of his desk and was looking at it. “Let me see, now . . . You’re in cabin 15, on D Deck. You’ll be able to find your own way down, won’t you?”

Grimes said that he would and unbuckled his lapstrap. It was obvious that the party was over.

“Good. Now, as an officer of the Survey Service you have the freedom of the control room and the engine rooms . . . . “

“Thank you, sir.”

“Just don’t abuse the privilege, that’s all.”

After that, thought Grimes, I’m not likely to take advantage of it, let alone abuse it. He let himself float up from his chair, said, “Thank you, sir.” (For the drink, or for the admonition? What did it matter?) “I’ll be getting down to my cabin, sir. I’ve some unpacking to do.”

“As you please, Mr. Grimes.”

The Captain, his social duty discharged, had obviously lost interest in his guest. Grimes let himself out of the cabin and made his way, not without difficulty, to the door in the axial shaft. He was surprised at the extent to which one not very large drink had interfered with the control of his body in Free Fall. Emerging from the elevator cage on D Deck he stumbled, literally, into the purser. “Let go of me,” she ordered, “or I shall holler rape!”

That, he thought, is all I need to make this trip a really happy one. She disengaged herself, moved back from him, her slim, sandaled feet,

magnetically shod, maintaining contact with the steel decking, but

gracefully, with a dancing motion. She laughed. “I take it that you’ve just come from a home truth session with B.B.”

“B.B.?”

“The Bearded Bastard. But don’t take it too much to heart. He’s that way with all junior officers. The fact that you’re Survey Service is only incidental.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“His trouble,” she went on. “His real trouble is that he’s painfully shy.” He’s not the only one, thought Grimes, looking at the girl. She seemed

even more attractive than on the occasion of their first meeting. She had changed into shorts-and-shirt shipboard uniform-and she was one of the

rare women who could wear such a rig without looking lumpy and clumpy. There was no cap now to hide her hair-smooth, lustrous, with coppery glints, with a straight white part bisecting the crown of her finely shaped head.

She was well aware of his scrutiny. She said, “You must excuse me, Ensign. I have to look after the other customers. They aren’t seasoned spacemen like you.”

Suddenly bold, he said, “But before you go, what is your name?”

She smiled dazzlingly. “You’ll find a list of all ship’s personnel posted in your cabin. I’m included.” Then she was gone, gliding rapidly around the curve of the alleyway.

He looked at the numbers over the cabin doors, outboard from the axial shaft, making a full circuit of that hollow pillar before he realized that this was only the inner ring, that he would have to follow one of the radial alleyways to reach his own accommodation. He finally found No. 15 and let himself in.

His first action was to inspect the framed notices on the bulkhead.

I.S.S. Delta Orionis, he read. Captain J. Craven, O.G.S., S.S.R.

So the Old Man held a Reserve commission. And the Order of the Golden Star was awarded for something more than good attendance.

Mr. P. Kennedy, Chief Officer.

He ignored the other names on the list while he searched for one he wanted. Ah, here it was.

Miss Jane Pentecost, Purser.

He repeated the name to himself, thinking that, despite the old play on words, this Jane was not plain. (But Janes rarely are.) Jane Pentecost . . . Then, feeling that he should be showing some professional interest, he acquainted himself with the names of the other members of the ship’s crew. He was intrigued by the manning scale, amazed that such a large vessel, relatively speaking, could be run by such a small number of people. But this was not a warship; there were no weapons to be manned, there would never be the need to put a landing party ashore on the surface of a hostile planet. The Merchant Service could afford to automate, to employ machinery in lieu of ratings. The Survey Service could not.

Virtuously he studied the notices dealing with emergency procedures, ship’s routine, recreational facilities and all the rest of it, examined with care the detailed plan of the ship. Attached to this was a card, signed by the  Master, requesting passengers to refrain, as much as possible, from using the elevator in the axial shaft, going on to say that it was essential, for the good of their physical health, that they miss no opportunity for taking exercise. (In a naval vessel, thought Grimes, with a slight sneer, that  would not be a request-it would be an order. And, in any case, there would

be compulsory calisthenics for all hands.)

He studied the plan again and toyed with the idea of visiting the bar before dinner. He decided against it; he was still feeling the effects of the drink that the Captain had given him. So, to pass the time, he unpacked slowly and carefully, methodically stowing his effects in the drawers under the bunk. Then, but not without reluctance, he changed from his uniform into his one formal civilian suit. One of the officer-instructors at the Academy had advised this. “Always wear civvies when you’re traveling as passenger. If you’re in uniform, some old duck’s sure to take you for one of the ship’s officers and ask you all sorts of technical questions to which you don’t know the answers.”

While he was adjusting his frilled cravat in front of the mirror the sonorous notes of a gong boomed from the intercom.

IV

THE DINING SALOON was much more ornate than the gunroom of that training cruiser had been, and more ornate than her wardroom. The essentials were the same, of course, as they are in any ship-tables and chairs secured to the deck, each seat fitted with its strap so that the comforting pressure of buttocks on padding could give an illusion of gravity. Each table was covered with a gaily colored cloth-but beneath the fabric there was the inevitable stainless steel to which the stainless steel service would be held by its own magnetic fields. But what impressed Grimes was the care that had been taken, the ingenuity that had been exercised to make this compartment look like anything but part of a ship.

The great circular pillar of the axial shaft was camouflaged by trelliswork, and the trelliswork itself almost hidden by the luxuriance of some

broad-level climbing plant that he could not identify. Smaller pillars were similarly covered, and there was a further efflorescence of living decoration all around the circular outer wall-the wall that must be the inner skin of the ship. And there were windows in this wall. No, Grimes decided, not windows, but holograms. The glowing, three dimensional pictures presented and maintained the illusion that this was a hall set in the middle of some great park. But on what world? Grimes could not say. Trees, bushes and flowers were unfamiliar, and the color of the sky subtly strange.

He looked around him at his fellow diners, at the dozen passengers and the ship’s officers, most of whom were already seated. The officers were in  neat undress uniform. About half the male passengers were, like himself, formally attired; the others were sloppy in shorts and shirts. But this was the first night out and some laxity was allowable. The women, however, all seemed to have decided to outshine the glowing flowers that flamed outside the windows that were not windows.

There was the Captain, unmistakable with his beard and the shimmering rainbow of ribbons on the left breast of his blouse. There were the passengers at his table-the men inclined to portliness and pomposity, their women sleek and slim and expensive looking. Grimes was relieved to see that there was no vacant place-and yet, at the same time, rather hurt. He knew that he was only an Ensign, a one-ringer, and a very new Ensign at

that-but, after all, the Survey Service was the Survey Service.

He realized that somebody was addressing him. It was a girl, a small, rather chubby blonde. She was in uniform-a white shirt with black shoulder-boards, each bearing a narrow white stripe, sharply creased slacks, and black, highly polished shoes. Grimes assumed, correctly, that

she was a junior member of the purser’s staff. “Mr. Grimes,” she said, “will you follow me, please? “You’re at Miss Pentecost’s table.”

Willingly he followed the girl. She led him around the axial shaft to a table for four at which the purser with two passengers, a man and a woman, was already seated. Jane Pentecost was attired as was his guide, the severity of her gold-trimmed black and white in pleasing contrast to the pink and blue frills and flounces that clad the other woman, her slenderness in still more pleasing contrast to the other’s untidy plumpness.

She smiled and said pleasantly, “Be seated, Admiral.”

“Admiral?” asked the man at her left, unpleasantly incredulous. He had, obviously, been drinking. He was a rough looking customer, in spite of the attempt that he had made to dress for dinner. He was twice the Ensign’s age, perhaps, although the heavily lined face under the scanty sandy hair made him look older. “Admiral?” He laughed, revealing irregular yellow teeth. “In what? The Space Scouts?”

Jane Pentecost firmly took control. She said, “Allow me to introduce Ensign Grimes, of the Survey Service . . .”

“Survey Service . . . Space Scouts . . . S.S . . . . What’s the difference?” “Plenty!” answered Grimes hotly.

The purser ignored the exchange. “Ensign, this is Mrs. Baxter . . . .” “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,” simpered the woman.

“And Mr. Baxter.”

Baxter extended his hand reluctantly and Grimes took it reluctantly. The amenities observed, he pulled himself into his seat and adjusted his lapstrap. He was facing Jane Pentecost. The man was on his right, the woman on his left. He glanced first at her, then at her husband, wondering how to start and to maintain a conversation. But this was the purser’s table, and this was her responsibility.

She accepted it. “Now you’re seeing how the poor live, Admiral,” she remarked lightly.

Grimes, taking a tentative sip from his bulb of consomm‚, did not think that the self-styled poor did at all badly, and said as much. The girl grinned and told him that the first night out was too early to draw conclusions. “We’re still on shoreside meat and vegetables,” she told him, “and you’ll not be getting your first taste of our instant table wine until tomorrow. Tonight we wallow in the unwonted luxury of a quite presentable Montrachet. When we start living on the produce of our own so-called farm, washing it down with our own reconstituted plonk, you’ll see the difference.”

The Ensign replied that, in his experience, it didn’t matter if food came from tissue-culture vats or the green fields of Earth-what was important was the cook.

“Wide experience, Admiral?” she asked sweetly.

“Not very,” he admitted. “But the gunroom cook in my last ship couldn’t boil water without burning it.”

Baxter, noisily enjoying his dinner, said that this preoccupation with food and drink was symptomatic of the decadence of Earth. As he spoke his knife grated unpleasantly on the steel spines that secured his charcoal broiled steak to the surface of his plate.

Grimes considered inquiring if the man thought that good table manners were also a symptom of decadence, then thought better of it. After all, this was not his table. Instead, he asked, “And where are you from, Mr. Baxter?”

“The Rim Worlds, Mr. Grimes. Where we’re left to sink or swim-so we’ve no time for much else than keeping ourselves afloat.” He sucked noisily from his bulb of wine. “Things might be a little easier for us if your precious Survey Service did something about keeping the trade routes open.”

“That is our job,” said Grimes stiffly. “And we do it.”

“Like hell! There’s not a pirate in the Galaxy but can run rings around you!” “Practically every pirate has been hunted down and destroyed,” Grimes told

him coldly.

“Practically every pirate, the man says! A few small-time bunglers, he means!”

“Even the notorious Black Bart,” persisted Grimes.

“Black Bart!” Baxter, spluttering through his full mouth, gestured with his laden fork at Grimes. “Black Bart! He wasn’t much. Once he and that popsy of his split brass rags he was all washed up. I’m talkin’ about the real pirates, the ones whose ships wear national colors instead o’ the Jolly Roger, the ones that your precious Survey Service daren’t say boo to. The ones who do the dirty work for the Federation.”

“Such as?” asked Grimes frigidly.

“So now you’re playin’ the bleedin’ innocent. Never heard o’ the Duchy o’ Waldegren, Mr. Ensign Grimes?”

“Of course. Autonomous, but they and the Federation have signed what’s called a Pact of Perpetual Amity.”

“Pretty words, ain’t they? Suppose we analyze them. Suppose we analyze by analogy. D’yer know much about animals, Mr. Ensign Grimes?”

“Animals?” Grimes was puzzled. “Well, I suppose I do know something. I’ve taken the usual courses in xenobiology . . . .”

“Never mind that. You’re a Terry. Let’s confine ourselves to a selection of yer own Terran four-footed friends.”

“What the hell are you driving at?” flared Grimes, losing his temper. He threw an apologetic glance in Jane Pentecost’s direction, saw that she was more amused than shocked.

“Just think about a Pact of Perpetual Amity between an elephant and a tom cat,” said Baxter. “A fat an’ lazy elephant. A lean, scrawny, vicious tom cat. If the elephant wanted to he could convert that cat into a fur bedside rug just by steppin’ on him. But he doesn’t want to. He leaves the cat alone, just because the cat is useful to him. He does more than just leave him alone. He an’ this feline pull out their pens from wherever they keep ’em an’ sign their famous Pact.

“In case you haven’t worked it out for yourself, the elephant’s the Federation, and the tom cat’s the Duchy of Waldegren.”

“But why?” asked Grimes. “Why?”

“Don’t they teach you puppies any interstellar politics? Or are those courses reserved for the top brass? Well, Mr. Grimes, I’ll tell you. There’s one  animal that has the elephant really worried. Believe it or not, he’s scared o’ mice. An’ there’re quite a few mice inside the Federation, mice that make the elephant nervous by their rustlings an’ scurryings an’ their squeaky demands for full autonomy. That’s where the cat comes in. By his free use of his teeth an’ claws, by his very presence, he keeps the mice quiet.”

“And just who are these famous mice, Mr. Baxter?” asked Grimes.

“Don’t they teach you nothin’ in your bleedin’ Academy? Well, I’ll tell you.  In our neck o’ the woods, the mice are the Rim Worlds, an’ the tom cat, as I’ve already made clear, is the Duchy o’ Waldegren. The Duchy gets away with murder-murder an’ piracy. But accordin’ to the Duchy, an accordin’ to your big, stupid elephant of a Federation, it’s not piracy. It’s-now, lemme see, what fancy words have been used o’ late? Contraband Control. Suppression of Espionage. Violation of the Three Million Mile Limit. Every time that there’s an act of piracy there’s some quote legal unquote excuse for it, an’ it’s upheld by the Federation’s tame legal eagles, an’ you Survey Service sissies just sit there on your big, fat backsides an’ don’t lift a pinkie against your dear, murderous pals, the Waldegrenese. If you did, they send you screaming back to Base, where some dear old daddy of an Admiral’d spank your little plump bottoms for you.”

“Please, Mr. Baxter!” admonished Jane Pentecost.

“Sorry, Miss. I got sort of carried away. But my young brother was Third Reaction Drive Engineer of the old Bunyip when she went missing. Nothin’ was ever proved-but the Waldegrenese Navy was holdin’ fleet maneuvers in the sector she was passin’ through when last heard from. Oh, they’re cunnin’ bastards. They’ll never go for one o’ these ships, or one of the Trans-Galactic Clippers; it’ll always be some poor little tramp that nobody’ll ever miss but the friends an’ relatives o’ the crew. And, I suppose, the underwriters-but Lloyds makes such a packet out o’ the ships that don’t get lost that they can well afford to shell out now an’ again. Come to that, it

must suit ’em. As long as there’re a few ‘overdues’ an’ ‘missings’ they can keep the premiums up.”

“But I still can’t see how piracy can possibly pay,” protested Grimes.

“O’ course it pays. Your friend Black Bart made it pay. An’ if you’re goin’ to all the expense of building and maintaining a war fleet, it might just as well earn its keep. Even your famous Survey Service might show a profit if you were allowed to pounce on every fat merchantman who came within range o’ your guns.”

“But for the Federation to condone piracy, as you’re trying to make out . . . That’s utterly fantastic.”

“If you lived on the Rim, you might think different,” snarled Baxter. And Jane Pentecost contributed, “Not piracy. Confrontation.”

V

AS SOON AS the meal was finished the Baxters left rather hastily to make their way to the bar, leaving Grimes and Jane Pentecost to the leisurely enjoyment of their coffee. When the couple was out of earshot Grimes remarked, “So those are Rim Worlders. They’re the first I’ve met.”

“They’re not, you know,” the girl told him.

“But they are. Oh, there are one or two in the Survey Service, but I’ve never run across them. Now I don’t particularly want to.”

“But you did meet one Rim Worlder before you met the Baxters.” “The Captain?”

She laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that-not unless you want to take a space walk without a suit!”

“Then who?”

“Who could it be, Admiral? Whom have you actually met, to talk to, so far in this ship? Use your crust.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Not you?”

“Who else?” She laughed again, but with a touch of bitterness. “We aren’t all like our late manger companions, you know. Or should know. Even so, you’d count yourself lucky to have Jim Baxter by your side in any real jam.  It boils down to this. Some of us have acquired veneer. Some of us haven’t. Period.”

“But how did you . . . ?” He groped for words that would not be offensive to conclude the sentence.

“How did I get into this galley? Easily enough. I started my spacefaring career as a not very competent Catering Officer in Jumbuk, one of the Sundowner Line’s more ancient and decrepit tramps. I got sick in Elsinore. Could have been my own cooking that put me in the hospital. Anyhow, I

was just about recovered when the Commission’s Epsilon Serpentis blew in-and she landed her purser with a slightly broken leg. She’d learned the hard way that the Golden Rule-stop whatever you’re doing and secure

everything when the acceleration warning sounds-is meant to be observed. The Doctor was luckier. She broke his fall . . . .” Grimes was about to ask what the Doctor and the purser had been doing, then was thankful that he had not done so. He was acutely conscious of the crimson blush that burned the skin of his face.

“You must realize,” said the girl dryly, “that merchant vessels with mixed crews are not monastic institutions. But where was I? Oh, yes. On Elsinore. Persuading the Master of the Snaky Eppy that I was a fit and proper person to take over his pursering. I managed to convince him that I was at least proper-I still can’t see what my predecessor saw in that lecherous old goat of a quack, although the Second Mate had something . . . .” Grimes felt a sudden twinge of jealousy. Anyhow, he signed me on, as soon as I agreed to waive repatriation.

“It was a long voyage; as you know, the Epsilon class ships are little better than tramps themselves. It was a long voyage, but I enjoyed it- seeing all the worlds that I’d read about and heard about and always wanted to visit. The Sundowner Line doesn’t venture far afield-just the four Rim Worlds, and now and again the Shakespearian Sector, and once in a blue moon one of the drearier planets of the Empire of Waverley. The Commission’s tramps,  of course, run everywhere.

“Anyhow, we finally berthed at Woomera. The Old Man must have put in a good report about me, because I was called before the Local Superintending Purser and offered a berth, as a junior, in one of the Alpha class liners. Alpha Centauri, if you must know. She was on the Sol-Sirius service.  Nothing very glamorous in the way of ports of call, but she was a fine ship, beautifully kept, efficiently run. A couple of years there knocked most of the sharp corners off me. After that-a spell as Assistant Purser of Beta Geminorum. Atlanta, Caribbea Carinthia and the Cluster Worlds. And then my first ship as Chief Purser. This one.”

One of Jane’s girls brought them fresh bulbs of coffee and ampoules of a sweet, potent liqueur. When she was gone Grimes asked, “Tell me, what are the Rim Worlds like?”

She waited until he had applied the flame of his lighter to the tip of her long, thin cigar, then answered, “Cold. Dark. Lonely. But . . . they have something. The feeling of being on a frontier. The frontier. The last frontier.”

“The frontier of the dark . . .” murmured Grimes.

“Yes. The frontier of the dark. And the names of our planets. They have something too. A . . . poetry? Yes, that’s the word. Lorn, Ultimo, Faraway and Thule . . . And there’s that night sky of ours, especially at some times of the year. There’s the Galaxy-a great, dim-glowing lenticulate nebula, and the rest is darkness. At other times of the year there’s only the darkness, the blackness that’s made even more intense by the sparse, faint stars that are the other Rim Suns, by the few, faint luminosities that are the distant

island universes that we shall never reach . . . .”

She shivered almost imperceptibly. “And always there’s that sense of being on the very edge of things, of hanging on by our fingernails with the abyss of the eternal night gaping beneath us. The Rim Worlders aren’t a spacefaring people; only a very few of us ever get the urge. It’s analogous, perhaps, to your Maoris-I spent a leave once in New Zealand and got interested in the history of the country. The Maoris come of seafaring stock. Their ancestors made an epic voyage from their homeland paradise to those rather grim and dreary little islands hanging there, all by themselves, in the cold and stormy Southern Ocean, lashed by frigid gales sweeping up from the Antarctic. And something-the isolation? the climate?-killed the wanderlust that was an essential part of the makeup of their race. You’ll find very few Maoris at sea-or in space-although there’s no dearth of Polynesians from the home archipelagoes aboard the surface ships serving the ports of the Pacific. And there are quite a few, too, in the Commission’s ships . . . .”

“We have our share in Survey Service,” said Grimes. “But tell me, how do you man your vessels? This Sundowner Line of yours . . .”

“There are always the drifters, the no-hopers, the castoffs from the Interstellar Transport Commission, and Trans-Galactic Clippers, and Waverley Royal Mail and all the rest of them.”

“And from the Survey Service?” The question lifted her out of her somber mood. “No,” she replied with a smile. “Not yet.”

“Not ever,” said Grimes. VI

ONCE HIS INITIAL SHYNESS HAD WORN OFF-and with it much of his Academy-induced snobbery-Grimes began to enjoy the voyage. After all, Survey Service or no Survey Service, this was a ship and he was a spaceman. He managed to accept the fact that most of the ship’s officers, even the most junior of them, were far more experienced spacemen than he was. Than he was now, he often reminded himself. At the back of his mind lurked the smug knowledge that, for all of them, a captaincy was the very limit of promotion, whereas he, one day, would be addressed in all seriousness as Jane Pentecost now addressed him in jest.

He was a frequent visitor to the control room but, remembering the Master’s admonition, was careful not to get in the way. The watch officers accepted him almost as one of themselves and were willing to initiate him into the tricky procedure of obtaining a fix with the interstellar drive in operation-an art, he was told, rather than a science.

Having obtained the permission of the Chief Engineers he prowled through the vessel’s machinery spaces, trying to supplement his theoretical knowledge of reaction, inertial and interstellar drives with something more practical. The first two, of course, were idle, and would be until the ship emerged from her warped Space-Time back into the normal continuum-but there was the Pile, the radio-active heart of the ship, and there was the auxiliary machinery that, in this tiny, man-made planet, did the work that

on a natural world is performed by winds, rivers, sunlight and gravity.

There was the Mannschenn Drive Room-and, inside this holy of holies, no man need fear to admit that he was scared by the uncanny complexity of ever-precessing gyroscopes. He stared at the tumbling rotors, the gleaming wheels that seemed always on the verge of vanishing into nothingness, that rolled down the dark dimensions, dragging the ship and all aboard her with them. He stared, hypnotized, lost in a vague, disturbing dream in which Past and Present and Future were inextricably mingled-and the Chief Interstellar Drive Engineer took him firmly by the arm and led him from the compartment. “Look at the time-twister too long,” he growled, “and you’ll be meeting yourself coming back!”

There was the “farm”-the deck of yeast- and tissue-culture vats which was no more (and no less), than a highly efficient protein factory, and the deck where stood the great, transparent globes in which algae converted the ship’s organic waste and sewage back into usable form (processed as nutriment for the yeasts and the tissue-cultures and as fertilizer for the hydroponic tanks, the biochemist was careful to explain), and the deck where luxuriant vegetation spilled over from the trays and almost barricaded the inspection walks, the source of vitamins and of flowers for the saloon tables and, at the same time, the ship’s main air-conditioning unit. Grimes said to Jane Pentecost, who had accompanied him on this tour of inspection, “You know, I envy your Captain.”

“From you, Admiral,” she scoffed, “that is something. But why?” “How can I put it? You people do the natural way what we do with

chemicals and machinery. The Captain of a warship is Captain of a warship.

Period. But your Captain Craven is absolute monarch of a little world.”

“A warship,” she told him, “is supposed to be able to go on functioning as such even with every compartment holed. A warship cannot afford to depend for the survival of her crew upon the survival of hosts of other

air-breathing organisms.”

“Straight from the book,” he said. Then, puzzled, “But for a . . .” He hesitated.

“But for a woman, or for a purser, or for a mere merchant officer I know too much,” she finished for him. “But I can read, you know. And when I was in the Sundowner Line, I, as well as all the other officers, was supposed to keep up with all the latest Survey Service publications.”

“But why?” he asked.

“But why not? We’ll have a Navy of our own, one day. Just stick around, Admiral.”

“Secession?” he inquired, making it sound like a dirty word. “Once again-why not?”

“It’d never work,” he told her.

“The history of Earth is full of secessions that did work. So is the history of

Interstellar Man. The Empire of Waverley, for example. The Duchy of Waldegren, for another-although that’s one that should have come to grief. We should all of us be a great deal happier if it had.”

“Federation policy . . .” he began.

“Policy, shmolicy! Don’t let’s be unkind to the Waldegrenese, because as long as they’re in being they exercise a restraining influence upon the Empire of Waverley and the Rim Worlds . . .” Her pace slackened. Grimes noticed that they were passing through the alleyway in which she and her staff were accommodated. She went on, “But all this talking politics is thirsty work. Come in for a couple of drinks before lunch.”

“Thank you. But, Jane”-she didn’t seem to have noticed the use of her given name-“I don’t think that either of us is qualified to criticize the handling of foreign and colonial affairs.”

“Spoken like a nice, young, well-drug-up future admiral. Oh, I know, I know. You people are trained to be the musclemen of the Federation. Yours not to reason why, yours but to do and die, and all the rest of it. But I’m a Rim Worlder-and out on the Rim you learn to think for yourself.” She slid her door open. “Come on in. This is Liberty Hall-you can spit on the mat and  call the cat a bastard.”

Her accommodation was a suite rather than a mere cabin. It was neither as large nor as well fitted as the Captain’s, but it was better than the Chief Officer’s quarters, in which Grimes had already been a guest. He looked  with interest at the holograms on the bulkhead of the sitting room. They were-but in an altogether different way-as eye-catching as Captain Craven’s had been. There was one that was almost physically chilling, that induced the feeling of utter cold and darkness and loneliness. It was the night sky  of some planet-a range of dimly seen yet sharply serrated peaks bisecting a great, pallidly glowing, lenticulate nebula. “Home, sweet home,” murmured the girl, seeing what he was looking at. “The Desolation Mountains on Faraway, with the Galactic Lens in the background.”

“And you feel homesick for that?”

“Darn right I do. Oh, not all the time. I like warmth and comfort as well as the next woman. But . . . ” She laughed. “Don’t stand around gawking-you make the place look untidy. Pull yourself into a chair and belay the buttocks.”

He did so, watching her as she busied herself at the liquor cabinet. Suddenly, in these conditions of privacy, he was acutely conscious of the womanliness of her. The rather tight and rather short shorts, as she bent away from him, left very little to the imagination. And her legs, although slender, were full where they should be full, with the muscles working smoothly under the golden skin. He felt the urge, which he sternly suppressed, to plant a kiss in the delectable hollow behind each knee. She turned suddenly. “Here! Catch!” He managed to grab the bulb that was hurtling toward his face, but a little of the wine spurted from the nipple and struck him in the right eye. When his vision cleared he saw that she was seated opposite him, was laughing (at or with him?). At, he suspected. A

real demonstration of sympathy would have consisted of tears, not laughter. Her face grew momentarily severe. “Not the mess,” she said reprovingly. “But the waste.”

Grimes examined the bulb. “I didn’t waste much. Only an eyeful.”

She raised her drink in ritual greeting. “Here’s mud in your eye,” adding, “for a change.”

“And in yours.”

In the sudden silence that followed they sat looking at each other. There was a tension, some odd resultant of centrifugal and centripetal forces. They were on the brink of something, and both of them knew it, and there was the compulsion to go forward countered by the urge to go back.

She asked tartly, “Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s legs before?”

He shifted his regard to her face, to the eyes that, somehow, were brown no longer but held the depth and the darkness of the night through which the ship was plunging.

She said, “I think you’d better finish your drink and go.” He said, “Perhaps you’re right.”

“You better believe I’m right.” She managed a smile. “I’m not an idler, like some people. I’ve work to do.”

“See you at lunch, then. And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It was on the house, as the little dog said. Off with you, Admiral.”

He unbuckled his lapstrap, got out of the chair and made his way to the door. When he was out of her room he did not go to his own cabin but to the bar, where he joined the Baxters. They, rather to his surprise, greeted him in a friendly manner. Rim Worlders, Grimes decided, had their good points.

IT WAS AFTER LUNCH when one of the purserettes told him that the Captain wished to see him. What have I done now? wondered Grimes-and answered his own question with the words, Nothing. Unfortunately.

Craven’s manner, when he admitted Grimes into his dayroom, was severe. “Come in, Ensign. Be seated.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You may smoke if you wish.” “Thank you, sir.”

Grimes filled and lighted his pipe; the Captain ignited one of his pungent cigars, studied the eddying coils of smoke as though they were writing a vitally important message in some strange language.

“Er, Mr. Grimes, I believe that you have been seeing a great deal of my purser, Miss Pentecost.”

“Not a great deal, sir. I’m at her table, of course.”

“I am told that she has entertained you in her quarters.”

“Just one bulb of sherry, sir. I had no idea that we were breaking ship’s regulations.”

“You were not. All the same, Mr. Grimes, I have to warn you.” “I assure you, sir, that nothing occurred between us.”

Craven permitted himself a brief, cold smile. “A ship is not a Sunday school outing-especially a ship under my command. Some Masters, I know, do expect their officers to comport themselves like Sunday school pupils, with the Captain as the principal-but I expect my senior officers to behave like intelligent and responsible adults. Miss Pentecost is quite capable of looking after herself. It is you that I’m worried about.”

“There’s no need to be worried, sir.”

The Captain laughed. “I’m not worried about your morals, Mr. Grimes. In fact, I have formed the opinion that a roll in the hay would do you far more good than harm. But Miss Pentecost is a dangerous woman. Before lifting ship, very shortly before lifting ship, I received a confidential report concerning her activities. She’s an efficient purser, a highly efficient purser, in fact, but she’s even more than that. Much more.” Again he studied the smoke from his cigar. “Unfortunately there’s no real proof, otherwise she’d not be sailing with us. Had I insisted upon her discharge I’d have been up against the Interstellar Clerical and Supply Officers’ Guild.”

“Surely not,” murmured Grimes. Craven snorted. “You people are lucky. You haven’t a mess of Guilds to deal with, each and every one of which is all too ready to rush to the defense of a Guild member, no matter what he or she is supposed to have done. As a Survey Service Captain you’ll never have to face a suit for wrongful dismissal. You’ll never be accused of victimization.”

“But what has Miss Pentecost done, sir?” asked Grimes.

“Nothing-or too damn much. You know where she comes from, don’t you? The Rim Worlds. The planets of the misfits, the rebels, the nonconformists. There’s been talk of secession of late-but even those irresponsible anarchists know full well that secession will never succeed unless they  build up their own space power. There’s the Duchy of Waldegren, which would pounce as soon as the Federation withdrew its protection. And even the Empire of Waverley might be tempted to extend its boundaries. So . . .”

“They have a merchant fleet of sorts, these Rim Worlders. The Sundowner Line. I’ve heard rumors that it’s about to be nationalized. But they have no fighting navy.”

“But what’s all this to do with Miss Pentecost, sir?”

“If what’s more than just hinted at in that confidential report is true-plenty. She’s a recruiting sergeant, no less. Any officer with whom she’s shipmates who’s disgruntled, on the verge of throwing his hand in-or on the verge of being emptied out-she’ll turn on the womanly sympathy for, and tell him that there’ll always be a job waiting out on the Rim, that the Sundowner Line is shortly going to expand, so there’ll be quick promotion and all the rest of it.”

“And what’s that to do with me, Captain? “

“Are all Survey Service ensigns as innocent as you, Mr. Grimes? Merchant officers the Rim Worlds want, and badly. Naval officers they’ll want more badly still once the balloon goes up.” Grimes permitted himself a superior smile. “It’s extremely unlikely, sir, that I shall ever want to leave the Survey Service.”

“Unlikely perhaps-but not impossible. So bear in mind what I’ve told you. I think that you’ll be able to look after yourself now that you know the score.”

“I think so too,” Grimes told him firmly. He thought, The old bastard’s been reading too many spy stories.

VII

THEY WERE DANCING.

Tables and chairs had been cleared from the ship’s saloon, and from the big, ornate playmaster throbbed the music of an orchestra so famous that even Grimes had heard of it-The Singing Drums.

They were dancing.

Some couples shuffled a sedate measure, never losing the contact between their magnetically shod feet and the polished deck. Others-daring or foolhardy-cavorted in Nul-G, gamboled fantastically but rarely gracefully in Free Fall.

They were dancing.

Ensign Grimes was trying to dance.

It was not the fault of his partner that he was making such a sorry mess of it. She, Jane Pentecost, proved the truth of the oft-made statement that spacemen and spacewomen are expert at this form of exercise. He, John Grimes, was the exception that proves the rule. He was sweating, and his feet felt at least six times their normal size. Only the fact that he was holding Jane, and closely, saved him from absolute misery.

There was a pause in the music. As it resumed Jane said, “Let’s sit this one out, Admiral.”

“If you wish to,” he replied, trying not to sound too grateful.

“That’s right. I wish to. I don’t mind losing a little toenail varnish, but I think we’ll call it a day while I still have a full set of toenails.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“So am I.” But the flicker of a smile robbed the words of their sting.

She led the way to the bar. It was deserted save for the bored and sulky girl behind the gleaming counter. “All right, Sue,” Jane told her. “You can join the revels. The Admiral and I will mind the shop.”

“Thank you, Miss Pentecost.” Sue let herself out from her little cage, vanished gracefully and rapidly in the direction of the saloon. Jane took her place.

“I like being a barmaid,” she told the ensign, taking two frosted bulbs out of the cooler.

“I’ll sign for these,” offered Grimes.

“You will not. This comes under the heading of entertaining influential customers.”

“But I’m not. Influential, I mean.”

“But you will be.” She went on dreamily. “I can see it. I can just see it. The poor old Delia O’Ryan, even more decrepit that she is now, and her poor old purser, about to undergo a fate worse than death at the hands of bloody pirates from the next Galaxy but three . . . . But all is not lost. There, light years distant, is big, fat, Grand Admiral Grimes aboard his flagship, busting a gut, to say nothing of his Mannschenn Drive unit, to rush to the rescue of his erstwhile girlfriend. ‘Dammitall,’ I can hear him muttering into his beard. ‘Dammitall. That girl used to give me free drinks when I was a snotty nosed ensign. I will repay. Full speed ahead, Gridley, and damn the torpedoes!’ “

Grimes laughed-then asked sharply, “Admiral in which service?” “What do you mean, John?” She eyed him warily.

“You know what I mean.”

“So . . .” she murmured. “So . . . I know that you had another home truth session with the Bearded Bastard. I can guess what it was about.”

“And is it true?” demanded Grimes.

“Am I Olga Popovsky, the Beautiful Spy? Is that what you mean?” “More or less.”

“Come off it, John. How the hell can I be a secret agent for a non-existent government?”

“You can be a secret agent for a subversive organization.”

“What is this? Is it a hangover from some half-baked and half-understood course in counterespionage?”

“There was a course of sorts,” he admitted. “I didn’t take much interest in it. At the time.”

“And now you wish that you had. Poor John.”

“But it wasn’t espionage that the Old Man had against you. He had some sort of story about your acting as a sort of recruiting sergeant, luring officers away from the Commission’s ships to that crumby little rabble of star tramps calling itself the Sundowner Line . . . .”

She didn’t seem to be listening to him, but was giving her attention instead to the music that drifted from the saloon. It was one of the old, Twentieth Century melodies that were enjoying a revival. She began to sing in time to it.

“Goodbye, I’ll run  To seek another sun Where I May find

There are hearts more kind Than the ones left behind . . .”

She smiled somberly and asked, “Does that answer your question?” “Don’t talk in riddles,” he said roughly.

“Riddles? Perhaps-but not very hard ones. That, John, is a sort of song of farewell from a very old comic opera. As I recall it, the guy singing it was going to shoot through and join the French Foreign Legion. (But there’s no French Foreign Legion anymore . . . .) We, out on the Rim, have tacked our own words on to it. It’s become almost a national anthem to the Rim Runners, as the people who man our ships-such as they are-are already calling themselves.

“There’s no French Foreign Legion anymore-but the misfits and the failures have to have somewhere to go. I haven’t lured anybody away from this service-but now and again I’ve shipped with officers who’ve been on the point of getting out, or being emptied out, and when they’ve cried into my beer I’ve given them advice. Of course, I’ve a certain natural bias in favor of my own home world. If I were Sirian born I’d be singing the praises of the Dog Star Line.”

“Even so,” he persisted, “your conduct seems to have been somewhat suspect.”

“Has it? And how? To begin with, you are not an officer in this employ. And if you were, I should challenge you to find anything in the Commission’s regulations forbidding me to act as I have been doing.”

“Captain Craven warned me,” said Grimes.

“Did he, now? That’s his privilege. I suppose that he thinks that it’s also his duty. I suppose he has the idea that I offered you admiral’s rank in the Rim Worlds Navy as soon as we secede. If we had our own Navy-which we don’t-we might just take you in as Ensign, Acting, Probationary.”

“Thank you.”

She put her elbows on the bar counter, propping her face between her hands, somehow conveying the illusion of gravitational pull, looking up at him. “I’ll be frank with you, John. I admit that we do take the no-hopers, the drunks and the drifters into our merchant fleet. I know far better than you what a helluva difference there is between those rustbuckets and the well-found, well-run ships of the Commission and, come to that,

Trans-Galactic Clippers and Waverley Royal Mail. But when we do start some kind of a Navy we shall want better material. Much better. We shall want highly competent officers who yet, somehow, will have the Rim World outlook. The first batch, of course, will have to be outsiders, to tide us over until our own training program is well under way.”

“And I don’t qualify?” he asked stiffly.

“Frankly, no. I’ve been watching you. You’re too much of a stickler for rules and regulations, especially the more stupid ones. Look at the way you’re dressed now, for example. Evening wear, civilian, junior officers, for the use of. No individuality. You might as well be in uniform. Better, in fact. There’d be some touch of brightness.”

“Go on.”

“And the way you comport yourself with women. Stiff. Starchy. Correct. And you’re all too conscious of the fact that I, even though I’m a mere merchant officer, and a clerical branch at that, put up more gold braid than you do. I noticed that especially when we were dancing. I was having to lead all the time.”

He said defensively, “I’m not a very good dancer.”

“You can say that again.” She smiled briefly. “So there you have it, John. You can tell the Bearded Bastard, when you see him again, that you’re quite safe from my wiles. I’ve no doubt that you’ll go far in your own Service-but you just aren’t Rim Worlds material.”

“I shouldn’t have felt all that flattered if you’d said that I was,” he told her bluntly-but he knew that he was lying.

VIII

“YES?” JANE WAS SAYING. “Yes, Mr. Letourneau?”

Grimes realized that she was not looking at him, that she was looking past him and addressing a newcomer. He turned around to see who it was. He found-somehow the name hadn’t registered-that it was the Psionic Radio Officer, a tall, pale, untidily put together young man in a slovenly uniform. He looked scared-but that was his habitual expression, Grimes remembered. They were an odd breed, these trained telepaths with their Rhine Institute diplomas, and they were not popular, but they were the only means whereby ships and shore stations could communicate instantaneously over the long light years. In the Survey Service they were referred to, slightingly, as Commissioned Teacup Readers. In the Survey Service and in the Merchant Service they were referred to as Snoopers. But

they were a very necessary evil. “Yes, Mr. Letourneau?”

“Where’s the Old Man? He’s not in his quarters.”

“The Master”-Jane emphasized the title-“is in the saloon.” Then, a little maliciously, “Couldn’t you have used your crystal ball?”

Letourneau flushed. “You know very well, Miss Pentecost, that we have to take an oath that we will always respect the mental privacy of our shipmates . . . . But I must find him. Quickly.”

“Help yourself. He’s treading the light fantastic in there.” When he was gone she said, “Typical. Just typical. If it were a real emergency he could get B.B. on the intercom. But no. Not him. He has to parade his distrust of anything electronic and, at the same time, make it quite clear that he’s not breaking his precious oath . . . . Tell me, how do you people handle your spaceborne espers?”

He grinned. “We’ve still one big stick that you people haven’t. A court martial followed by a firing party. Not that I’ve ever seen it used.”

“Hardly, considering that you’ve only been in Space a dog watch.” Her face froze suddenly. “Yes, Sue?”

It was the girl whom Jane had relieved in the bar. “Miss Pentecost, will you report to the Captain in Control, please. At once.”

“What have I done now?”

“It’s some sort of emergency, Miss Pentecost. The Chief Officer’s up there with him, and he’s sent for the Doctor and the two Chief Engineers.”

“Then I must away, John. Look after the bar again, Sue. Don’t let the Admiral have too many free drinks.”

She moved fast and gracefully, was gone before Grimes could think of any suitable repartee. He said to the girl, “What is happening, Sue?”

“I don’t know, Ad-” She flushed. “Sorry, Ensign. And, in any case, I’m not supposed to talk to the passengers about it.”

“But I’m not a real passenger,” he said-and asked himself, Am I a real anything?

“No, I suppose you’re not, Mr. Grimes. But you’re not on duty.”

“An officer of the Survey Service is always on duty,” he told her, with some degree of truth. “Whatever happens on the spacelanes is our concern.” It sounded good.

“Yes,” she agreed hesitantly. “That’s what my fianc‚-he’s a Lieutenant J.G.-is always telling me.”

“So what’s all the flap about?”

“Promise not to tell anybody?” “Of course.”

“Mr. Letourneau came wandering into the Saloon. He just stood there staring about, the way he does, then he spotted the Captain. He was actually dancing with me at the time . . . .” She smiled reminiscently, and added, “He’s a very good dancer.”

“He would be. But go on.”

“He came charging across the dance floor-Mr. Letourneau, I mean. He didn’t care whose toes he trod on or who he tripped over. I couldn’t help overhearing when he started babbling away to Captain Craven. It’s a distress call. From one of our ships-Epsilon Sextans.'” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And it’s piracy.”

“Piracy?  Impossible.”

“But, Mr. Grimes, it’s what he said.”

“Psionic Radio Officers have been known to go around the bend before now,” Grimes told her, “and to send false alarm calls. And to receive non-existent ones.”

“But the Sexy Eppy-sorry, Epsilon Sextans-has a cargo that’d be worth pirating. Or so I heard. The first big shipment of Antigeriatridine to Waverly

. . . .”

Antigeriatridine, the so-called Immortality Serum. Manufactured in limited, but increasing quantities only on Marina (often called by its colonists Submarina), a cold, unpleasantly watery world in orbit about Alpha Crucis. The fishlike creatures from which the drug was obtained bred and flourished only in the seas of their own world.

But piracy . . . .

But the old legends were full of stories of men who had sold their souls for eternal youth.

The telephone behind the bar buzzed sharply. Sue answered it. She said, “It’s for you, Mr. Grimes.”

Grimes took the instrument. “That you, Ensign?” It was Captain Craven’s voice. “Thought I’d find you there. Come up to Control, will you?” It was an order rather than a request.

ALL THE SHIP’S EXECUTIVE OFFICERS were in the Control Room, and the Doctor, the purser and the two Chief Engineers. As Grimes emerged from the hatch he heard Kennedy, the Mate, say, “Here’s the Ensign now.”

“Good. Then dog down, Mr. Kennedy, so we get some privacy.” Craven turned to Grimes. ‘”You’re on the Active List of the Survey Service, Mister,  so I suppose you’re entitled to know what’s going on. The situation is this. Epsilon Sextans, Marina to Waverley with a shipment of Antigeriatridine, has been pirated.” Grimes managed, with an effort, to refrain from saying “I

know.” Craven went on. “Her esper is among the survivors. He says that the pirates were two frigates of the Waldegren Navy. Anyhow, the Interstellar Drive Engineers aboard Epsilon Sextans managed to put their box of tricks on random precession, and they got away. But not in one piece . . . .”

“Not in one piece?” echoed Grimes stupidly.

“What the hell do you expect when an unarmed merchantman is fired upon, without warning, by two warships? The esper says that their Control has had it, and all the accommodation spaces. By some miracle the Psionic Radio Officer’s shack wasn’t holed, and neither was the Mannschenn Drive Room.”

“But even one missile . . .” muttered Grimes.

“If you want to capture a ship and her cargo more or less intact,” snapped Craven, “you don’t use missiles. You use laser. It’s an ideal weapon if you aren’t fussy about how many people you kill.”

“Knowing the Waldegrenese as we do,” said Jane Pentecost bitterly, “there wouldn’t have been any survivors anyhow.”

“Be quiet!” roared Craven. Grimes was puzzled by his outburst. It was out  of character. True, he could hardly expect a shipmaster to react to the news of a vicious piracy with equanimity-but this shipmaster was an officer of the Reserve, had seen service in warships and had been highly decorated for outstanding bravery in battle.

Craven had control of himself again. “The situation is this. There are people still living aboard Epsilon Sextans. Even though all her navigators have  been killed I think that I shall be able to find her in time. Furthermore, she has a very valuable cargo and, in any case, cannot be written off as a total loss. There is little damage that cannot be repaired by welded patches. I have already sent a message to Head Office requesting a free hand. I have salvage in mind. I see no reason why the ship and her cargo should not be taken on to Waverley.”

“A prize crew, sir?”

“If you care to put it that way. This will mean cutting down the number of officers aboard my own vessel-but I am sure, Mr. Grimes, that you will be willing to gain some practical watch-keeping experience. All that’s required is your autograph on the ship’s Articles of Agreement.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. I may be thanking you before the job’s over and done.” He turned to his Chief Officer. “Mr. Kennedy, keep in touch with Mr. Letourneau and let me know if anything further comes through either from Epsilon Sextans or from Head Office. The rest of you-keep this to yourselves. No sense in alarming the passengers. I’m sure that the Doctor and Miss Pentecost between them can concoct some soothing story to account for  this officers’ conference.”

“Captain Craven,” said Jane Pentecost.

“Well?”

“The other man at my table, Mr. Baxter. I knew him out on the Rim. He holds Chief Reaction Drive Engineer’s papers.”

“Don’t tell him anything yet. But I’ll keep him in mind. Now, Mr. Grimes, will you join me in my day cabin?”

IX

THE HOLOGRAMS were all gone from the bulkheads of Captain Craven’s cabin. To replace them there was just one picture-of a woman, not young, but with the facial bone structure that defies age and time. She was in uniform, and on her shoulderboards were the two and a half stripes of a Senior Purser. The shipmaster noticed Grimes’ interest and said briefly and bitterly. “She was too senior for an Epsilon class ship-but she cut her leave short, just to oblige, when the regular purser went sick. She should have been back on Earth at the same time as me, though. Then we were going to get married . . . .”

Grimes said nothing. He thought, Too senior for an Epsilon class ship? Epsilon Sextans, for example? What could he say?

“And that,” said Craven savagely, “was that.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” blurted Grimes, conscious of the inadequacy of his words. Then, foolishly, “But there are survivors, sir.”

“Don’t you think that I haven’t got Letourneau and his opposite number checking? And have you ever seen the aftermath of a Deep Space battle, Mister? Have you ever boarded a ship that’s been slashed and stabbed to death with laser beams?” He seemed to require no answer; he pulled himself into the chair by his desk, strapped himself in and motioned to Grimes to be seated. Then he pulled out from a drawer a large sheet of paper, which he unfolded. It was a cargo plan. “Current voyage,” he grunted. “And we’re carrying more to Lindisfarne than one brand-new ensign.”

“Such as, sir?” ventured Grimes.

“Naval stores. I don’t mind admitting that I’m more than a little rusty insofar as Survey Service procedure is concerned, even though I still hold my Reserve Commission. You’re more familiar with fancy abbreviations than I am. Twenty cases RERAT, for example . . . .”

“Reserve rations, sir. Canned and dehydrated.” “Good. And ATREG?”

“Atmospheric regeneration units, complete.”

“So if Epsilon Sextans’ ‘farm’ has been killed we shall be able to manage?” “Yes, sir.”

“Do you think you’d be able to install an ATREG unit?”

“Of course, sir. They’re very simple, as you know. Just synthetic chlorophyll and a UV source . . . . In any case, there are full instructions inside every container.”

“And this? A double M, Mark XV?” “Anti-Missile  Missile.”

“And ALGE?”

“Anti-Laser Gas Emitter.”

“The things they do think of. I feel more at home with these AVMs-although I see that they’ve got as far as Mark XVII now.”

“Anti-Vessel Missiles,” said Grimes. A slight enthusiasm crept into his voice. “The XVII’s a real honey.”

“What does it do?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Even though you are a Reserve Officer, I can’t tell you.” “But they’re effective?”

“Yes. Very.”

“And I think you’re Gunnery Branch, Mr. Grimes, aren’t you?”

“I am sir.” He added hastily, “But I’m still quite capable of carrying out a watch officer’s duties aboard this vessel should the need arise.”

“The main thing is, you’re familiar with naval stores and equipment. When we find and board Epsilon Sextans I shall be transshipping certain items of cargo . . . “

“RERAT and ATREG, sir?” “Yes. And the others.”

“But, sir, I can’t allow it. Not unless I have authority from the Flag Officer commanding Lindisfarne Base. As soon as your Mr. Letourneau can be spared I’ll get him to try and raise the station there.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Mr. Grimes. In view of the rather peculiar political situation, I think that the answer would be No. Even if it were ‘Yes’, you know as well as I how sluggishly the tide flows through official channels. Furthermore, just in case it has escaped your notice, I am the Master.”

“And I, sir, represent the Survey Service. As the only commissioned officer aboard this vessel I am responsible for Survey Service cargo.”

“As a Reserve Officer, Mr. Grimes, I rank you.”

“Only when you have been recalled to Active Service. Sir.”

Craven said, “I was rather afraid that you’d take this attitude. That’s why I

decided to get this interview over and done with, just so we all know where we stand.” He put away the cargo plan, swiveled his chair so that he could reach out to his liquor cabinet. He pulled out two bulbs, tossed one to Grimes. “No toasts. If we drank to Law and Order we should mean different things. So just drink. And listen.

“To begin with, Epsilon Sextans doesn’t know where she is. But Letourneau is one of the rare telepaths with the direction finding talent, and as soon as he’s able to get lined up we shall alter course to home on the wreck. That’s what he’s trying to do now.

“When we find her, we shall synchronize and board, of course. The first thing will be medical aid to the survivors. Then we patch the ship up. And then we arm her. And then, with a prize crew under myself, we put ourselves on the trajectory for Waverley-hoping that those Waldegrenese frigates come back for another nibble.”

“They’d never dare, sir.”

“Wouldn’t they? The original piracy they’ll try to laugh off by saying that it was by real pirates- no, that’s not quite right, but you know what I

mean-wearing Waldegren colors. The second piracy-they’ll make sure that there are no survivors.”

“But I still can’t see how they can hope to get away with it. It’s always been an accepted fact that the main weapon against piracy has been psionic radio.”

“And so it was-until some genius developed a jamming technique. Epsilon Sextans wasn’t able to get any messages out until her crazy random precession pulled her well clear.”

“And you hope, sir, that they do attack you?”

“I do, Mr. Grimes. I had hoped, that I should have a good gunnery officer under me, but”-he shrugged his massive shoulders-“I think that I shall be able to manage.”

“And you hope that you’ll have your weapons,” persisted Grimes. “I see no reason why I should not, Ensign.”

“There is one very good reason, sir. That is that I, a commissioned officer of the Survey Service, am aboard your vessel. I insist that you leave the tracking down and destruction of the pirates to the proper authorities. I insist, too, that no Survey Service stores be discharged from this ship without my written authority.”

For the first time the hint of a smile relieved the somberness of Craven’s face. “And to think that I believed that Jane Pentecost could recruit you,” he murmured. Then, in a louder voice, “And what if I just go ahead without your written authority, Ensign?”

Grimes had the answer ready. “Then, sir, I shall be obliged to order your officers not to obey your unlawful commands. If necessary, I shall call upon the male passengers to assist me in any action that is necessary.”

Craven’s bushy eyebrows went up and stayed up. “Mr. Grimes,” he said in a gritty voice, “it is indeed lucky for you that I have firsthand experience of the typical Survey Service mentality. Some Masters I know would, in these circumstances, send you out on a spacewalk without a suit. But, before I take drastic action, I’ll give you one more chance to cooperate.” His tone softened. “You noticed the portrait I’ve put up instead of all the temporary popsies. Every man, no matter how much he plays around, has one woman who is the woman. Gillian was the woman as far as I was concerned-as far as I am concerned. I’ve a chance to bring her murderers under my guns-and, by God, I’m taking that chance, no matter what it means either to my  career or to the somewhat odd foreign policy of the Federation. I used to be annoyed by Jane Pentecost’s outbursts on that subject-but now I see that she’s right. And she’s right, too, when it comes to the Survey Service’s reluctance to take action against Waldegren.

“So I, Mr. Grimes, am taking action.” “Sir, I forbid you . . .”

“You forbid me? Ensign, you forget yourself. Perhaps this will help you remember.”

This was a Minetti automatic that had appeared suddenly in the Captain’s hand. In his hairy fist the little, glittering weapon looked no more than a toy-but Grimes knew his firearms, knew that at the slightest pressure of Craven’s finger the needle-like projectiles would stitch him from crown to crotch.

“I’m sorry about this, Mr. Grimes.” As he spoke, Craven pressed a button  set in his desk with his free hand. “I’m sorry about this. But I realize that I was expecting rather too much of you. After all, you have your career to consider . . . . Time was,” he went on, “when a naval officer could put his telescope to his blind eye as an excuse for ignoring orders-and get away with it. But the politicians had less power in those days. We’ve come a long way-and a wrong way-since Nelson.”

Grimes heard the door behind him slide open. He didn’t bother to look around, not even when hard hands were laid on his shoulders.

“Mr. Kennedy,” said Craven, “things turned out as I feared that they would. Will you and Mr. Ludovic take the Ensign along to the Detention Cell?”

“I’ll see you on trial for piracy, Captain!” flared Grimes.

“An interesting legal point, Ensign-especially since you are being entered in my Official Log as a mutineer.”

X

THE DETENTION CELL was not uncomfortable, but it was depressing. It was a padded cell- passengers in spacecraft have been known to exhibit the more violent symptoms of mania-which detracted from its already inconsiderable cheerfulness if not from its comfort. However, Grimes was not mad-not in the medical sense, that is-and so was considered able to attend to his own bodily needs. The little toilet was open to him, and at

regular intervals a bell would sound and a container of food would appear in a hatch recessed into the bulkhead of the living cabin. There was reading matter too-such as it was. The Ensign suspected that Jane Pentecost was the donor. It consisted of pamphlets published by some organization calling itself The Rim Worlds Secessionist Party. The almost hysterical calls to arms were bad enough-but the ones consisting mainly of columns of statistics were worse. Economics had never been Grimes’ strong point.

He slept, he fed at the appointed times, he made a lengthy ritual of keeping himself clean, he tried to read-and, all the time, with only sounds and sensations as clues, he endeavored to maintain a running plot of the ship’s maneuvers.

Quite early there had been the shutting down of the Mannschenn Drive, and the consequent fleeting sensation of temporal disorientation. This had been followed by the acceleration warning-the cell had an intercom speaker recessed in the padding-and Grimes, although it seemed rather pointless in his sponge rubber environment, had strapped himself into his couch. He heard the directional gyroscopes start up, felt the effects of centrifugal  force as the ship came around to her new heading. Then there was the pseudo-gravity of acceleration, accompanied by the muffled thunder of the reaction drive. It was obvious, thought the Ensign, that Captain Craven was expending his reaction mass in a manner that, in other circumstances,  would have been considered reckless.

Suddenly-silence and Free Fall, and almost immediately the off-key keening of the Mannschenn Drive. Its note was higher, much higher, than Grimes remembered it, and the queasy feeling of temporal disorientation lasted much longer than it had on previous occasions. And that, for a long time, was all. Meals came, and were eaten. Every morning- according to his watch-the prisoner showered and applied depilatory cream to his face. He tried to exercise-but to exercise in a padded cell, with no apparatus, in Free Fall, is hard. He tried to read-but the literature available was hardly more interesting to him than a telephone directory would have been. And, even though he never had been gregarious, the lack of anybody to talk to was wearing him down.

It was a welcome break from the monotony when he realized that, once again, the ship was maneuvering. This time there was no use of the directional gyroscopes; there were no rocket blasts, but there was a variation of the whine of the Drive as it hunted, hunted, as the temporal precession rate was adjusted by tens of seconds, by seconds, by microseconds.

And then it locked.

The ship shuddered slightly-once, twice.

Grimes envisaged the firing of the two mooring rockets, one from the bow and one from the stern, each with the powerful electromagnet in its nose, each trailing its fathoms of fine but enormously strong cable. Merchant vessels, he knew, carried this equipment, but unlike naval ships rarely used it. But Craven, as a Reservist, would have seen and taken part in enough drills.

The ship shuddered again-heavily.

So the rendezvous had been made. So Delta Orionis and Epsilon Sextans, their Drives synchronized, bound together by the rescue ship’s cables, were now falling as one unit through the dark immensities.

So the rendezvous had been made-and already the survivors of the wreck were being brought aboard the Delia O’Ryan, were being helped out of their stinking spacesuits, were blurting out their story to Craven and his officers. Grimes could visualize it all, almost as clearly as though he were actually watching it. He could visualize, too, the engineers swarming over the wreck, the flare of their burning and welding torches, the cannibalizing of nonessential plating from the ship’s structure for hull patches. It was all laid down in the Survey Service’s Damage Control Manual-and Captain Craven, at least, would know that book as thoroughly as did Grimes.

And what of the cargo, the Survey Service stores, Grimes’ stores? A trembling in the ship’s structure, a barely felt vibration, told him that gantries and conveyor belts were being brought into operation. There would be no great handling problems. Lindisfarne was Delta Orionis’ first port of call, and the Survey Service consignment would be top stowage. But there was nothing that Grimes could do about it-not a thing. In fact, he was beginning to doubt the legality of the stand he had made against the Master. And he was the small frog in this small puddle, while Captain Craven had made it quite clear that he was the big frog. Grimes wished  that he was better versed in astronautical law-although a professional lawyer’s knowledge would be of no use to him in his present situation.

So, with some hazy idea that he might need all his strength, both mental and physical, for what was to befall him (but what?), in the near future, he strapped himself into his bunk and did his best to forget his worries in sleep. He was well enough acquainted with the psychiatrists’ jargon to know that this was no more than a return to the womb but, before dropping off into a shallow slumber, shrugged, So what?

HE JERKED into sudden wakefulness.

Jane Pentecost was there by his bunk, looking down at him.

“Come in,” he said. “Don’t bother to knock. Now you see how the poor live. This is Liberty Hall; you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard.”

She said, “That’s not very funny.”

“I know it’s not. Even the first time that I heard it aboard this blasted ship I was able to refrain from rolling in the aisles.”

She said, “There’s no need to be so bitchy, John.”

“Isn’t there? Wouldn’t you be bitchy if you’d been thrown into this padded cell?”

“I suppose I would be. But you asked for it, didn’t you?”

“If doing my duty-or trying to do my duty-is asking for it, I suppose that I did. Well-and has our pirate Captain cast off yet, armed to the teeth with

the weapons he’s stolen?”

“No. The weapons are still being mounted. But let’s not argue legalities, John. There’s not enough time. I . . . I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” he echoed.

“Yes. Somebody has to do the cooking aboard Epsilon Sextans-and I volunteered.”

“You?”

“And why the hell not?” she flared. “Captain Craven has been pushed over to our side of the fence, and it’d be a pretty poor show if we Rim Worlders weren’t prepared to stand by him. Baxter’s gone across to take over as Reaction Drive Engineer; the only survivor in that department was the Fourth, and he’s only a dog watch in Space.”

“And who else?”

“Nobody. The Sexy Eppy’s Chief, Second and Third Interstellar Drive Engineers survived, and they’re willing-anxious, in fact, now that their ship’s being armed-to stay on. And the Psionic Radio Officer came through, and is staying on. All of our executive officers volunteered, of course, but the Old Man turned them down. He said that, after all, he could not hazard the safety of this ship by stripping her of her trained personnel. Especially since we carry passengers.”

“That’s his worry,” said Grimes without much sympathy. “But how does he hope to fight his ship if those frigates pounce again?”

“He thinks, he’ll be able to manage-with remote controls for every weapon brought to his main control panel.”

“Possible,” admitted Grimes, his professional interest stirred. “But not very efficient. In a naval action the Captain has his hands full just handling the ship alone, without trying to control her weaponry.”

“And you’d know, of course.” “Yes.”

“Yes, you’ve read the books. And Captain Craven commanded a light cruiser during that trouble with the Dring, so he knows nothing.”

“He still hasn’t got four hands and two heads.”

“Oh, let’s stop talking rubbish,” she cried. “I probably shan’t see you again, John and . . . and . . . oh, hell, I want to say goodbye properly, and I don’t want you to think too badly about either the Old Man or . . . or myself.”

“So what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Damn you, Grimes, you snotty-nosed, stuck-up spacepuppy! Look after yourself!”

Suddenly she bent down to kiss him. It was intended to be no more than a

light brushing of lips, but Grimes was suddenly aware, with his entire body, of the closeness of her, of the warmth and the scent of her, and almost without volition his arms went about her, drawing her closer still to him. She tried to break away, but it was only a halfhearted effort. He heard her murmur, in an odd, sardonic whisper, “wotthehell, wotthehell,” and then, “toujours gai.” It made no sense at the time but, years later, when he made the acquaintance of the Twentieth Century poets, he was to remember and to understand. What was important now was that her own arms were about him.

Somehow the buttons of her uniform shirt had come undone, and her  nipples were taut against Grimes’ bare chest. Somehow her shorts had been peeled away from her hips-unzippered by whom? and how?-and somehow Grimes’ own garments were no longer the last barrier between them.

He was familiar enough with female nudity; he was one of the great majority who frequented the naked beaches in preference to those upon which bathing costumes were compulsory. He knew what a naked woman looked like-but this was different. It was not the first time that he had kissed a woman-but it was the first time that he had kissed, and been kissed by, an unclothed one. It was the first time that he had been alone with one.

What was happening he had read about often enough-and, like most young men, he had seen his share of pornographic films. But this was different. This was happening to him.

And for the first time.

When it was over, when, still clasped in each others’ arms they drifted in the center of the little cabin, impelled there by some odd resultant of forces, their discarded clothing drifting with them, veiling their perspiration-moist bodies, Grimes was reluctant to let her go.

Gently, Jane tried to disengage herself.

She whispered, “That was a warmer goodbye that I intended. But I’m not sorry. No. I’m not sorry . . . .”

Then, barely audibly, “It was the first time for you, wasn’t it?” “Yes.”

“Then I’m all the more glad it happened. But this is goodbye.” “No.”

“Don’t be a fool, John. You can’t keep me here.” “But I can come with you.”

She pushed him from her. Somehow he landed back on the bed. Before he could bounce he automatically snapped one of the confining straps about his middle. Somehow-she was still wearing her sandals but nothing

else-she finished up standing on the deck, held there by the contact between the magnetic soles and the ferrous fibers in the padding. She put

out a long, graceful arm and caught her shirt. She said harshly, “I’m getting dressed and out of here. You stay put. Damn you, Grimes, for thinking that I was trying to lure you aboard the Sexy Eppy with the body beautiful. I told you before that I am not, repeat not, Olga Popovsky, the Beautiful Spy. And I’m not a prostitute. There’s one thing I wouldn’t sell if I were offered the services of the finest Gunnery Officer (which you aren’t), in the whole bloody Galaxy in payment!”

“You’re beautiful when you flare up like that,” said Grimes sincerely. “But you’re always beautiful.” Then, in a louder voice, “Jane, I love you.”

“Puppy love,” she sneered. “And I’m old enough to be your . . .” A faint smile softened her mouth. “Your maiden aunt.”

“Let me finish. All right, it’s only puppy love-you say. But it’s still love.

But”-he was extemporizing-convincingly, he hoped-“but my real reason for wanting to come with you is this. I can appreciate now what Captain Craven lost when Epsilon Sextans was pirated. I can see-I can feel-why he’s willing to risk his life and his career to get his revenge. And I think that it’s worth it. And I want to help him.”

She stood there, her shirt half on, eying him suspiciously. “You mean that? You really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a liar, Grimes.”

“No,” he said slowly. “No. Not altogether. I want to help the Old Man-and I want to help you. This piracy has convinced me that you Rim Worlders are getting the dirty end of the stick. I may not be the finest Gunnery Officer in the whole Galaxy-but I’m better acquainted with the new stuff than Captain Craven is.”

Her grin was openly derisive. “First it’s fellow-feeling for another spaceman, then it’s international politics. What next?”

“Where we started. I do love you, Jane. And if there’s going to be any shooting, I want to be on hand to do the shooting back on your behalf. I’ll admit that . . . that what’s happened has influenced my decision. But you didn’t buy me, or bribe me. Don’t think that. Don’t ever think that.” There was a note of pleading in his voice. “Be realistic, Jane. With another officer along, especially an officer with recent gunnery training, you stand a damn sight better chance than you would otherwise.”

“I . . . I suppose so. But I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. But why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“All right. You win. Get your clothes on and come and see the Old Man.” XI

JANE PENTECOST led Grimes to the airlock. The ship seemed oddly deserted, and he remarked on this. The girl explained that the passengers had been requested to remain in their accommodations, and that most of

Delta Orionis’ personnel were employed in work aboard Epsilon Sextans.

  • So I haven’t been the only one to be kept under lock and key,” commented Grimes sardonically.

“You’re the only one,” retorted the girl, “who’s been compensated for his imprisonment.”

There was no answer to that, so the Ensign remained silent. Saying nothing, he inspected with interest the temporary tunnel that had been rigged between the airlocks of the two ships. So Epsilon Sextans’ pressure hull had been made good, her atmosphere restored. That meant that the work of installing the armament had been completed. He hoped that he would not have to insist upon modifications.

The wreck-although she was a wreck no longer-bore her scars. The worst damage had been repaired, but holes and slashes that did not impair her structural strength were untouched, and spatters of once molten metal still made crazy patterns on beams and frames, stanchions and bulkheads. And there were the scars made by Craven’s engineers-the raw, bright cicatrices of new welding.

Forward they made their way, deck after deck. The elevator in the axial shaft was not yet working, so Grimes had time and opportunity to appreciate the extent of the damage. They passed through the wreckage of the “farm”-the burst algae tanks, the ruptured vats in which yeast and tissue cultures were black and dead, frostbitten and dehydrated. They brushed through alleyways choked with the brittle fronds of creeping plants killed by the ultimate winter.

And then they were passing through the accommodation levels. Bulkheads had been slashed through, destroying the privacy of the cabins that they had once enclosed. Destroying the privacy-and the occupants. There were  no longer any bodies; for this Grimes was deeply thankful. (He learned later that Craven’s first action had been to order and conduct a funeral service.) There were no bodies-but there were still stains. Men and women die quickly in hard vacuum-quickly and messily.

Captain Craven was alone in the Control Room. He was working, rather slowly and clumsily, wiring up an obviously makeshift panel that was additional to the original one installed before the Master’s acceleration chair. It was obvious what it was-the remote controls for the newly fitted weaponry. Grimes said quickly, “There’s no need for that, sir.”

Craven started, let go of his screwdriver, made a fumbling grab for it as it drifted away from him. He stared at Grimes, then growled, “So it’s you, is it?” Then, to Jane, “What the hell do you mean by letting this puppy out of his kennel?”

“Captain Craven,” she told him quietly, “Mr. Grimes wants to come with us.” “What? I warn you, Miss Pentecost, I’m in no mood for silly jokes.”

“This is not a silly joke, Captain,” said Grimes. “I’ve had time to think things over. I feel, I really feel that you have a far better chance if there’s

a qualified officer along to handle the gunnery.”

Craven looked at them, from the girl to Grimes, then back again. He said, “Ensign, didn’t I warn you?”

“It’s not that way at all, sir,” Grimes told him, flushing. “In fact, Miss Pentecost has been trying hard to dissuade me.”

“Oh?

“It’s true,” said Jane. “But he told me that we couldn’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I don’t know what’s been happening,” rasped Craven. “I don’t want to know what’s been happening between the pair of you. This change of mind, this change of heart is rather . . . sudden. No matter. One volunteer, they say,  is worth ten pressed men.” He glared coldly at the Ensign. “And you volunteer?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I believe you. I have no choice in the matter. But you realize the consequences?”

“I do.”

“Well, I may be able to do something to clear your yardarm. I’ve still to make my last entries in the Official Log of Delta Orionis, before I hand over to Captain Kennedy. And when it comes to such documentation, nobody cares to accuse a shipmaster of being a liar. Not out loud.” He paused, thinking. “How does this sound, Miss Pentecost? Date, Time, Position, etc., etc. Mr. John Grimes, passenger, holding the rank of Ensign in the Federation Survey Service, removed by force from this vessel to Epsilon Sextans, there to supervise the installation and mounting of the armament, Survey Service property, discharged on my orders from No. 1 hold, also to advise upon the use of same in the subsequent event of an action’s being fought. Signed, etc., etc. And witnessed.”

“Rather long-winded, sir. But it seems to cover the ground.” “I intend to do more than advise!” flared Grimes.

“Pipe down. Or, if you must say it, make sure that there aren’t any witnesses around when you say it. Now, when it comes to the original supervision, you see what I’m trying to do. Will it work?”

“After a fashion, sir. But it will work much better if the fire control panel is entirely separate from maneuvering control.”

“You don’t think that I could handle both at once?”

“You could. But not with optimum efficiency. No humanoid could. This setup of yours might just work if we were Shaara, or any of the other multi-limbed arthropods. But even the Shaara, in their warships, don’t expect the

Queen-Captain to handle her ship and her guns simultaneously.”

“You’re the expert. I just want to be sure that you’re prepared to, quote, advise, unquote, with your little pink paws on the actual keyboard of your battle organ.”

“That’s just the way that I propose to advise.”

“Good. Fix it up to suit yourself, then. I should be able to let you have a mechanic shortly to give you a hand.”

“Before we go any further, sir, I’d like to make an inspection of the weapons themselves. Just in case . . .”

“Just in case I’ve made some fantastic bollix, eh?” Craven was almost cheerful. “Very good. But try to make it snappy. It’s time we were on our way.”

“Yes,” said Jane, and it seemed that the Captain’s discarded somberness was hanging about her like a cloud. “It’s time.”

XII

AT ONE TIME, before differentiation between the mercantile and the  fighting vessel became pronounced, merchant vessels were built to carry a quite considerable armament. Today, the mounting of weapons on a merchantman presents its problems. After his tour of inspection Grimes was obliged to admit that Captain Craven had made cunning use of whatever spaces were available- but Craven, of course, was a very experienced officer, with long years of service in all classes of spacecraft. Too-and, perhaps, luckily-there had been no cannon among the Survey Service ordnance that had been requisitioned, so recoil had not been among the problems.

When he was finished, Grimes returned to the Control Room. Craven was still there, and with him was Jane Pentecost. They had, obviously, been discussing something. They could, perhaps, have been quarreling; the girl’s face was flushed and her expression sullen.

“Yes?” snapped the Captain.

“You’ve done a good job, sir. She’s no cruiser, but she should be able to defend herself.”

“Thank you. Then we’ll be on our way.”

“Not so fast, sir. I’d like to wire up my control panel properly before we shove off.”

Craven laughed. “You’ll have time, Mr. Grimes. I still have a few last duties to discharge aboard Delta Orionis. But be as quick as you can.”

He left the compartment, followed by Jane Pentecost. She said, over her shoulder, “I’ll send Mr. Baxter to help you, John.”

The Rim Worlder must have been somewhere handy; in a matter of seconds he was by Grimes’ side, an already open tool satchel at his belt. As he worked, assisting deftly and then taking over as soon as he was sure of

what was required, he talked. He said, “Mum wanted to come along, but I soon put the damper on that. But I was bloody amazed to find you here.”

“Were you?” asked Grimes coldly.

“You bet I was. Never thought you were cut out to be a bloody pirate.” He cursed briefly as a spatter of hot metal from his sizzling soldering iron stung his hand. “A cold weld’d be better, but it’d take too much time. But where was I? Oh, yes. The shock to me system when I saw you comin’ aboard this wagon.”

“I have my quite valid reasons,” Grimes told him stiffly.

“You’re tellin’ me. Just as my missus had quite valid reasons for wantin’ to come with me. But she ain’t a gunnery expert.” He added piously, “Thank Gawd.”

“And I am one,” said the Ensign, trying to change the drift of the conversation before he lost his temper. “Yes. that’s right. Just stick to the color code. The blue wiring’s the ALGE . . .”

“I know,” Baxter told him. “Tell me, is it any good?”

“Yes. Of course, if an enemy held us in her beams for any prolonged period we should all be cooked, but as far as it goes it’s effective enough.”

“Hope you’re right.” He made the last connections, then replaced the panel on the open shallow box. “Here’s yer magic cabinet, Professor. All we have ter see now is what rabbits yer can pull outer the hat.”

“Plenty, I hope,” said Captain Craven, who had returned to Control. “And are you ready now, Mr. Grimes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then we’ll make it stations. If you will take the copilot’s chair, while Mr. Baxter goes along to look after his rockets.”

“Will do, Skipper,” said the engineer, packing away his tools as he pulled himself toward the exit hatch.

The ship’s intercom came to life, in Jane Pentecost’s voice. “Connection between vessels severed. Airlock door closed.”

“We’re still connected,” grumbled Craven. “Delia O’Ryan still has her magnetic grapnels out.” He spoke into the transceiver microphone: “Epsilon Sextans to Delta Orionis. Cast off, please. Over.”

“Delta Orionis to Epsilon Sextans. Casting off.” Through a viewport Grimes could see one of the bright mooring wires snaking back into its recess. “All clear, Captain.”

“Thank you, Captain Kennedy.” And in a softer voice, “And I hope you keep that handle to your name, Bill.”

“Thank you, sir. And all the best, Captain, from all of us, to all of you. And

good hunting.”

“Thanks. And look after the old Delia, Captain. And yourself. Over-and out.” “Delta Orionis to Epsilon Sextans. Over and out.”

(There was something very final, thought Grimes, about those outs.)

He was aware that the ships were drifting slowly apart. Now he could see  all of Delta Orionis from his viewport. He could not help recalling the day on which he had first seen her, at the Woomera spaceport. So much had happened since that day. (And so much was still to happen-he hoped.) He heard Craven say into the intercom, “Stand by for temporal precession. We’re desynchronizing.” Then, there was the giddiness, and the off-beat whine of the Mannschenn Drive that pierced his eardrums painfully, and beyond the viewports the great, shining shape of the other ship shimmered eerily and was suddenly warped into the likeness of a monstrous Klein

flash-then vanished. Where she had been (where she still was, in space but not in time) shone the distant stars, the stars that in this distorted continuum were pulsing spirals of iridescence.

“Mannschenn Drive. Cut!”

The thin, high keening died abruptly. Outside, the stars were glittering points of light, piercingly bright against the blackness.

“Mr. Grimes!” Craven’s voice was sharp. “I hope that you take more interest in gunnery than you do in ship handling. In case it has escaped your notice, I would remind you that you are second in command of this vessel, and in full charge in the event of my demise.”

“Sorry, sir,” stammered Grimes. Then, suddenly bold, “But I’m not your second in command, sir. I’ve signed no Articles.”

Surprisingly, Craven laughed. “A spacelawyer, yet! Well, Mr. Grimes, as soon as we get this vessel on course we’ll attend to the legal formalities. Meanwhile, may I request your close attention to what I am doing?”

“You may, sir.”

Thereafter he watched and listened carefully. He admired the skill with which Craven turned the ship on her directional gyroscopes until the red-glowing target star was centered exactly in the cartwheel sight. He

noted that the Captain used his reaction drive at a longer period and at a higher rate of acceleration than usual, and said as much. He was told, the words falling slowly and heavily in the pseudo-gravity, “They . . . will . . . expect . . . us . . . to . . . be . . . in . . . a . . . hurry. We must . . . not . . . disappoint . . . them.”

Speed built up, fast-but it was a velocity that, in the context of the interstellar distances to be traversed, was no more than a snail’s crawl. Then-and the sudden silence was like a physical blow-the thunder of the rockets ceased. The screaming roar had died, but the ship was not quiet. The whine of the Mannschenn Drive pervaded her every compartment, vibrated through every member of her structure. She was falling, falling

through space and time, plunging through the warped continuum to her rendezvous with Death . . . .

And whose death? wondered Grimes.

He said, “I should have asked before, sir. But how are . . . how are they going to find us?”

“I don’t know,” said Craven. “I don’t know. But they’ve found other ships when they’ve wanted to. They’ve never used the old pirate’s technique of lying in wait at breaking-out points. A Mass Proximity Indicator? Could be. It’s theoretically possible. It could be for a ship under Mannschenn Drive what radar is for a ship in normal space-time. Or some means of homing on a temporal precession field? That’s more like it, I think, as this vessel was able to escape when she went random.

“But if they want us-and they will-they’ll find us. And then”-he looked at Grimes, his blue gaze intense-“and then it’s up to you, Ensign.”

“To all of us,” said Grimes. XIII

SHE WAS UNDERMANNED, this Epsilon Sextans, but she functioned quite efficiently. Craven kept a Control Room watch himself, and the other two watchkeepers were Grimes and Jane Pentecost. Four on and eight off were their hours of duty- but there was plenty of work to be done in the off duty periods. The Captain, of course, was in over-all charge, and was trying to bring his command to the pitch of efficiency necessary for a fighting ship. Jane Pentecost was responsible for meals-although these, involving little more than the opening of cans, did not take up too much of her time. She had also taken over biochemist’s duties, but called now and again upon Grimes to help her with the ATREG unit. Its operation was simple enough, but it was inclined to be temperamental and, now and again, allowed the carbon dioxide concentration to reach a dangerous level. Grimes’ main concern was his armament. He could not indulge in a practice shot-the expulsion of mass by a ship running under interstellar drive is suicidal; even the employment of laser weapons is dangerous. But there were tests that he could make; there was, in the ship’s stores, a spare chart tank that he was able to convert to a battle simulator.

Craven helped him, and set up targets in the tank, glowing points of light that were destroyed by the other sparks that represented Grimes’ missiles. After one such drill he said, “You seem to know your stuff, Ensign. Now, what’s your grasp of the tactical side of it?”

Grimes considered his words before speaking. “Well, sir, we could use laser with the Drive in operation-but we haven’t got laser. The pirates have. They can synchronize and just carve us up at leisure. This time, I think they’ll go for the interstellar drive engine room first, so that we can’t get away by the use of random precession.”

“Yes. That’s what they’ll do. That’s why I have that compartment literally sealed in a cocoon of insulation. Oh, I know it’s not effective, but it will give us a second or so of grace. No more.”

“We can’t use our reflective vapor,” went on Grimes. “That’d be almost as bad, from our viewpoint, as loosing off a salvo of missiles. But, sir, when this ship was first attacked there must have been a considerable loss of mass when the atmosphere was expelled through the rents in the shell plating . . . the Drive was running. How was it that the ship wasn’t flung into some other space-time?”

“Come, come, Mr. Grimes. You should know the answer to that one. She was held by the powerful temporal precession fields of the drive units of the two pirates. And then, of course, when the engineers managed to set up their random precession there was no mass left to be expelled.”

“H’m. I see. Or I think I see. Then, in that case, why shouldn’t I use my ALGE as soon as we’re attacked?”

“No. Better not. Something might just go wrong-and I don’t want to become one of my own ancestors.”

“Then . . . ?”

“You tell me, Mr. Grimes.”

“Cut our Drive . . . ? Break out into the normal continuum? Yes . . . it could work.” He was becoming enthusiastic. “And then we shall be waiting

for-them, with our missile batteries, when they break out.”

“We’ll make an admiral of you yet, young Grimes.”

WITH WATCHKEEPING and with off-watch duties time was fully occupied. And yet there was something missing. There was, Grimes said to himself, one hell of a lot missing. Jane Pentecost had her own watch to keep, and her own jobs to do when she was not in the control room-but she and Grimes had some free time to share. But they did not share it.

He broached the subject when he was running a test on the artificial chlorophyll in the ATREG. “Jane, I was hoping I’d see more of you.”

“You’re seeing plenty of me.” “But not enough.”

“Don’t be tiresome,” she snapped. Then, in a slightly softer voice, “Don’t . .

. “

  • . . . spoil everything?” he finished for her sardonically. “You know what I mean,” she told him coldly.

“Do I?” He groped for words. “Jane . . . Damn it all, I hoped . . . After what happened aboard the Delia O’Ryan . . .”

“That,” she said, “was different.” Her face flushed. “I tell you this, Grimes, if I’d known that you were coming along with us it never would have happened.”

“No?”

“NO!”

“Even so . . . I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t . . .”

“Why we shouldn’t what? Oh, all right, all right. I know what you mean. But it’s out of the question. I’ll tell you why, in words of one syllable. In a ship such as Delta Orionis discreet fun and games were permissible, even desirable. No shortage of women-both crew and passengers. Here, I’m the only female. Your friend Mr. Baxter has been sniffing after me. And Mr. Wolverton, the Interstellar Chief. And his Second. And even, bereaved though he is, the Bearded Bastard. He might get away with it-the privileges of rank and all that. But nobody else would-most certainly not yourself.  How long would it remain a secret if we went to bed together?”

“I suppose you’re right, but . . .”

“But what? Oh John, John, you are a stubborn cow.” “Cow?”

“Sorry. Just Rimworldsese. Applicable to both sexes.” “Talking of sex . . .”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I’ll not.” She looked desirable standing there. A small smudge of grease on her flushed cheek was like a beauty spot. “I’ll not,” he said again. She was close to him, and he was acutely conscious that beneath the thin uniform shirt and the short shorts there was only Jane. He had only to reach out. He did so. At first she did not resist-and then exploded into a frenzy of   activity. Before he could let go of her a hard, rough hand closed on his shirt collar and yanked him backwards.

“Keep yer dirty paws off her!” snarled a voice. It was Baxter’s. “Keep yer dirty paws off her! If we didn’t want yer ter let off the fireworks I’d do yer, here an’ now.”

“And keep your dirty paws off me!” yelped Grimes. It was meant to be an authentic quarterdeck bark, but it didn’t come out that way.

“Let him go, Mr. Baxter,” said Jane, adding, “please.”

“Oh, orl right. If yer says so. But I still think we should run him up ter the Old Man.”

“No. Better not.” She addressed Grimes, “Thank you for your help on the ATREG, Mr. Grimes. And thank you, Mr. Baxter, for your help. It’s time that I started looking after the next meal.”

She left, not hastily, but not taking her time about it either. When she was gone Baxter released Grimes. Clumsily the Ensign turned himself around, with a wild flailing motion. Unarmed combat had never been his specialty, especially unarmed combat in Free Fall conditions. But he knew that he had to fight, and the rage and the humiliation boiling up in him made it certain that he would do some damage.

But Baxter was laughing, showing all his ugly, yellow teeth. “Come orf it, Admiral! An’ if we must have a set-to-not in here. Just smash the UV projector-an’ bang goes our air conditioning! Simmer down, mate. Simmer down!”

Grimes simmered down, slowly. “But I thought you were out for my blood, Mr. Baxter.”

“Have ter put on a show for the Sheilas now an’ again. Shouldn’t mind puttin’ on another kind o’ show with her. But not in public-like you was goin’ to. It just won’t do-not until the shootin’ is over, anyhow. An’ even then . .

. . So, Admiral, it’s paws off as far as you’re concerned. An’ as far as I’m concerned-an’ the Chief Time Twister an’ his sidekick. But, if yer can spare the time, I propose we continue the conversation in my palatial dogbox.”

Grimes should have felt uneasy as he followed the engineer to his accommodation but, oddly enough, he did not. The rough friendliness just could not be the prelude to a beating up. And it wasn’t.

“Come in,” said Baxter, pulling his sliding door to one side. “Now yer see how the poor live. This is . . .”

“No,” protested Grimes. “No.”

“Why? I was only goin’ to say that this is me ‘umble ‘umpy. An’ I’d like yer to meet a coupla friends o’ mine-and there’s more where they came from.”

The “friends” were two drinking bulbs. Each bore proudly no less than four stars on its label. The brandy was smooth, smooth and potent. Grimes sipped appreciatively. “I didn’t know that we had any of this aboard Delia O’Ryan.”

“An’ nor did we. You’ll not find this tipple in the bar stores of any merchantman, nor aboard any of yer precious Survey Service wagons. Space stock for the Emperor’s yacht, this is. So here’s ter the Waverley taxpayers!”

“But where did you get this from, Mr. Baxter?”

“Where d’yer think? I’ve had a good fossick around the holds o’ this old bitch, an’ there’s quite a few things too good to let fall inter the hands o’ those bloody Waldegrenese.”

“But that’s pillage.”

“It’s common sense. Mind yer, I doubt if Captain Craven would approve, so yer’d better chew some dry tea-that’s in the cargo too-before yer see the Old Man again. All the bleedin’ same-it’s no worse than him borrowing your Survey Service stores an’ weapons from his cargo.”

“I suppose it’s not,” admitted Grimes. All the same, he still felt guilty when he was offered a second bulb of the luxurious spirit. But he did not refuse it.

XIV

HE WAS A GOOD FOSSICKER, was Baxter.

Two days later, as measured by the ship’s chronometer, he was waiting for Grimes as he came off watch. “Ensign,” he announced without preamble, “I’ve found somethin’ in the cargo.”

“Something new, you mean?” asked Grimes coldly. He still did not approve of pillage, although he had shared the spoils.

“Somethin’ that shouldn’t be there. Somethin’ that’s up your alley, I think.” “There’s no reason why equipment for the Waverley Navy shouldn’t be

among the cargo.”

“True enough. But it wouldn’t be in a case with Beluga Caviar stenciled all over it. I thought I’d found somethin’ to go with the vodka I half pinched, but it won’t.”

“Then what is it?” “Come and see.”

“All right.” Briefly Grimes wondered if he should tell Craven, who had relieved the watch, then decided against it. The Old Man would probably insist on making an investigation in person, in which case Grimes would have to pass another boring hour or so in the Control Room.

The two men made their way aft until they came to the forward bulkhead of the cargo spaces. Normally these would have been pressurized, but, when Epsilon Sextans’ atmosphere had been replenished from Delta Orionis’ emergency cylinders, it had seemed pointless to waste precious oxygen. So access was through an airlock that had a locker outside, in which suits, ready for immediate use, were stowed.

Grimes and Baxter suited up, helping each other as required. Then the engineer put out his gloved hand to the airlock controls. Grimes stopped him, bent forward to touch helmets. He said, “Hang on. If we open the door it’ll register on the panel in Control.”

“Like hell it will!” came the reply. “Most of the wiring was slashed through during the piracy. I fixed the hold lights-but damn all else.” Grimes, through the transparency of the visors, saw the other’s grin. “For obvious reasons.”

Grimes shrugged, released Baxter. Everything was so irregular that one more, relatively minor irregularity hardly mattered. He squeezed with the engineer into the small airlock, waited until the atmosphere it held had been pumped back into the body of the ship, then himself pushed the button that actuated the mechanism of the inner valve.

This was not the first time that he had been in the cargo spaces. Some of the weapons “borrowed” from Delta Orionis’ cargo had been mounted in the holds. When he had made his inspections it had never occurred to him that the opening and closing of the airlock door had not registered in Control.

He stood back and let Baxter lead the way. The engineer pulled himself to one of the bins in which he had been foraging. The door to it was still open,

and crates and cartons disturbed by the pillager floated untidily around the opening.

“You’ll have to get all this restowed,” said Grimes sharply. “If we have to accelerate there’ll be damage.” But he might as well have been speaking to himself. The suit radios had not been switched on and, in any case, there was no air to carry sound waves, however faintly.

Baxter had scrambled into the open bin. Grimes followed him, saw him standing by the case, its top prized open, that carried the lettering, BELUGA CAVIAR. PRODUCE OF THE RUSSIAN SOCIAL DEMOCRATIC

REPUBLIC. Baxter beckoned. Grimes edged his way past the drifting packages to join him.

There was something in the case-but it was not jars or cans of salted sturgeon’s eggs. It looked at first like a glittering, complex piece of mobile statuary, although it was motionless. It was a metal mismating of gyroscope and Moebius Strip. It did not look wrong-nothing functional ever does-but it did look odd.

Grimes was standing hard against Baxter now. Their helmets were touching. He asked, “What . . . what is it?”

“I was hopin’ you’d be able ter tell me, Admiral.” Then, as Grimes extended a cautious hand into the case, “Careful! Don’t touch nothin’!”

“Why not?”

  • ‘Cause this bloody lot was booby-trapped, that’s why. See that busted spring? An’ see that cylinder in the corner? That’s a thermite bomb, or somethin’ worse. Shoulda gone orf when I pried the lid up-but luckily I buggered the firin’ mechanism with me bar when I stuck it inter just the right crack. But I think the bastard’s deloused now.”

“It looks as though it-whatever it is-is hooked up to one of the electrical circuits.”

“Yair. An’ it’s not the lightin’ circuit. Must be the airlock indicators.” “Must be.” As a weapons expert, Grimes could see the thermite bomb-if

that was what it was- had been rendered ineffective. It hadn’t been an

elaborate trap, merely a device that would destroy the-the thing if the case housing it were tampered with. Baxter had been lucky-and, presumably, those who had planted the-what the hell was it?-unlucky.

With a cautious finger he nudged the rotor.

It turned-and he was reminded of those other rotors, the ever-precessing gyroscopes of the Mannschenn Drive.

He remembered, then. He remembered a series of lectures at the Academy on future weapons and navigational devices. Having decided upon his specialty he had been really interested only in the weapons. But there had been talk of a man called Carlotti, who was trying to develop a device that would induce temporal precession in radio signals, so that instantaneous communications would be possible throughout the Galaxy without ships and

shore stations having to rely upon the temperamental and unreliable telepaths. And beacons, employing the same principle, could be used for navigation by ships under interstellar drive . . . .

So this could be one of Signor Carlotti’s gadgets. Perhaps the Empire of Waverley had offered him a higher price than had the Federation. But why the BELUGA CAVIAR? To deter and confuse industrial spies? But Epsilon Sextans possessed excellent strong rooms for the carriage of special cargo.

And why was the thing wired up?

Suddenly it was obvious. Somehow, the Duchy of Waldegren possessed Carlotti equipment. This . . . this beacon had been transmitting, unknown to anybody aboard the ship, during the voyage. The frigates had homed upon her. When, inadvertently, its power supply had been shut off the victim, using random precession, had been able to make her escape.

So, if the pirates were to make a second attack it would have to be reactivated.

“We’d better throw this lot on to the Old Man’s plate,” said Grimes. CAPTAIN CRAVEN listened intently as Grimes and Baxter told their story.

They feared that he was going to lose his temper when told of the

engineer’s cargo pillaging, but he only remarked, in a dry voice, “I guess that the consignees can afford to compensate us for our time and trouble. Even so, Mr. Baxter, I insist that this practice must cease forthwith.” And then, when Grimes described the device, he said, “Yes, I have heard of Carlotti’s work. But I didn’t think that he’d got as far as a working model. But the thing could have been developed by Waldegrenese scientists from the data in his published papers.”

“So you agree, sir, that it is some kind of beacon upon which the pirates can home?”

“What else can it be? Now, gentlemen, we find ourselves upon the horns of a dilemma. If we don’t reactivate the bloody thing, the chances are that we shall deliver the ship and cargo intact, at no great risk to ourselves, and to the joy of the underwriters. If we do reactivate it-then the chances are that we shall have to fight our way through. And there’s no guarantee that we shall be on the winning side.”

“I was shanghaied away here as a gunnery officer,” said Grimes. “Shanghaied-or press-ganged?” queried Craven.

“The technique was more that of the shanghai,” Grimes told him.

“Indeed?” Craven’s voice was cold. “But no matter. “You’re here, and you’re one of my senior officers. What course of action do you recommend?”

Grimes replied slowly and carefully. “Legally speaking, what we’re involved in isn’t a war. But it is a war, of sorts. And a just war. And, in any case, the Master of a merchant vessel has the legal right to resist illegal seizure or destruction by force of arms. Of course, we have to consider the illegal circumstances attending the arming of this ship . . . .”

“Let’s not get bogged down in legalities and illegalities,” said Craven, with a touch of impatience. “The lawyers can sort it all out eventually. Do we reactivate?”

“Yes,” said Grimes.

“And you, Mr. Baxter. What do you say?”

“We Rim Worlders just don’t like Waldegren. I’ll not pass up a chance ter kick the bastards in the teeth. Reactivate, Skipper.”

“Good. And how long will it take you to make good the circuit the beacon’s spliced in to?”

“Twenty minutes. No more. But d’yer think we oughter put the whole thing to the vote first?”

“No. Everybody here was under the impression that we should be fighting. With one possible exception, they’re all volunteers.”

“But I did volunteer, sir,” objected Grimes.

“Make your mind up, Ensign. You were telling me just now that you’d been shanghaied. All right. Everybody is a volunteer. So we just rebait the trap without any more yapping about it. Let me know as soon as you’re ready, Mr. Baxter. Will you require assistance?”

“I’ll manage, Skipper.”

When he was gone Craven turned to Grimes. “You realize, Ensign, that this puts me in rather a jam. Let me put it this way. Am I justified in risking the lives of all my officers to carry out a private act of vengeance?”

“I think that you can take Mr. Baxter and myself as being representative, sir. As for the others-Miss Pentecost’s a Rim Worlder, and her views will coincide with Baxter’s. And the original crew members-they’re just as entitled to vengeance as you are. I know that if I’d been an officer of this ship at the time of the original piracy I’d welcome the chance of hitting back.”

“You would. Yes. Even if, as now, an alternative suddenly presented itself. But . . .”

“I honestly don’t see what you’re worrying about, sir.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s a matter of training. But, for all my Reserve commission, I’m a merchant officer. Oh, I know that any military commander is as responsible for the lives of his men as I am-but he also knows that those lives, like his own, are expendable.”

“It’s a pity that Baxter found the beacon,” said Grimes.

“It is-and it isn’t. If he hadn’t found it, I shouldn’t be soliloquizing like a spacefaring Hamlet. And we should have brought the ship in intact and, like as not, all been awarded Lloyd’s Medals. On the other hand-if he hadn’t found it we-or I?-should have lost our chance of getting back at the

pirates.”

“You aren’t Hamlet, sir.” Grimes spoke with the assurance of the very young, but in later years he was to remember his words, and to feel neither shame nor embarrassment, but only a twinge of envy and regret. “You  aren’t Hamlet. You’re Captain Craven, Master under God. Please, sir, for once in your life do something you want to do, and argue it out later with the Almightly if you must.”

“And with my owners?” Grimes couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw something like a smile beneath Craven’s full beard. “And with my owners?”

“Master Astronauts’ certificates aren’t all that common, sir. If worst comes to worst, there’s always the Rim Worlds. The Sundowner Line, isn’t it?”

“I’d already thought of that.” There was no doubt about it. Craven was smiling. “After all that you’ve been saying to me, I’m surprised that you don’t join forces with our Miss Pentecost.”

“Go out to the Rim, sir? Hardly.”

“Don’t be so sure, young Grimes. Anyhow, you’d better get Miss Pentecost up here now so that we can see how friend Baxter is getting on. There’s always the risk that he’ll find a few more things among the cargo that aren’t nailed down.”

XV

GRIMES CALLED Jane Pentecost on the intercom; after a minute or so she made her appearance in Control. Craven told her what Baxter had discovered and what he, Craven, intended doing about it. She nodded in emphatic agreement. “Yes,” she said. “The thing’s here to be used-and to be used the way that we want to use it. But I don’t think that we should make it public.”

“Why not, Miss Pentecost?”

“I could be wrong, Captain, but in my opinion there are quite a few people in this ship who’d welcome the chance of wriggling out of being the cheese in the mousetrap. When there’s no alternative they’re brave enough. When there’s a face-saving alternative . . .”

Baxter’s voice came from the intercom speaker. “Chief Reaction Drive Engineer to Control. Repairs completed. Please check your panel.”

Yes, the circuit had been restored. The buzzer sounded, and on the board a glowing red light showed that the outer door to the cargo hold airlock was open. How much of the failure of the indicators was due to battle damage and how much to Baxter’s sabotage would never be known. Craven’s heavy eyebrows lifted ironically as he looked at Grimes, and Grimes shrugged in reply.

Then, the watch handed over to the girl, the two men made their way aft from the Control Room. Outside the airlock they found Baxter, already suited up save for his helmet. There had been only two suits in the locker, and the engineer had brought another one along for the Captain from

somewhere.

The little compartment would take only two men at a time. Craven and Grimes went through first, then were joined by Baxter. There was no longer any need for secrecy, so the suit radios were switched on. The only person likely to be listening in was Jane Pentecost in Control.

Grimes heard Craven muttering angrily as they passed packages that obviously had been opened and pillaged, but the Captain did no more than mutter. He possessed the sense of proportion so essential to his rank-and a few bulbs of looted liquor were, after all, relatively unimportant.

They came to the bin in which the case allegedly containing caviar had been stowed, in which some secret agent of Waldegren had tapped the circuit supplying power to the beacon. Inside the box the gleaming machine was still motionless. Craven said, “I thought you told me the current was on.”

“It is, Skipper.” Baxter’s voice was pained. “But I switched it off before I fixed the wiring.” He extended a gloved finger, pressed a little toggle switch.

And nothing happened.

“Just a nudge.” whispered the engineer.

The oddly convoluted rotor turned easily enough, and as it rotated it seemed almost to vanish in a mist of its own generating-a mist that was no more than an optical illusion.

It rotated, slowed-and stopped.

Baxter cast aspersions upon the legitimacy of its parenthood. Then, still grumbling, he produced a volt-meter. Any doubt that power was being delivered to the machine was soon dispelled. Power was being delivered-but it was not being used.

“Well, Mr. Baxter?” demanded Craven.

“I’m a fair mechanic, Skipper-but I’m no physicist.” “Mr. Grimes?”

“I specialized in gunnery, sir.”

Craven snorted, the sound unpleasantly loud in the helmet phones. He said sarcastically, “I’m only the Captain, but I have some smatterings of Mannschenn Drive maintenance and operation. This thing isn’t a Mannschenn Drive unit-but it’s first cousin to one. As I recall it, some of the earlier models couldn’t be started without the employment of a small, temporal precession field initiator. Furthermore, these initiators, although there is no longer any need for them, are still carried as engine room  spares in the Commission’s ships.”

“And that gadget’ll start this little time-twister, Skipper?” asked the engineer.

“It might, Mr. Baxter. It might. So, Mr. Grimes, will you go along to the Mannschenn Drive room and ask Mr. Wolverton for his initiator? No need to tell him what it’s for.”

WOLVERTON was in the Mannschenn Drive room, staring moodily at the gleaming complexity of precessing rotors. Grimes hastily averted his eyes from the machine. It frightened him, and he didn’t mind admitting it. And there was something about the engineer that frightened him, too. The tall, cadaverous man, with the thin strands of black hair drawn over his  gleaming skull, looked more like a seer than a ship’s officer, looked like a fortune-teller peering into the depths of an uncannily mobile crystal ball. He was mumbling, his voice a low, guttural muttering against the thin, high keening of his tumbling gyroscopes. The Ensign at last was able to make out the words.

“Divergent tracks . . . . To be, or not to be, that is the question-“

Grimes thought, This ship should be renamed the State of Denmark. There’s something rotten here . . . . He said sharply, “Mr. Wolverton!”

Slowly the Chief Interstellar Drive Engineer turned his head, stared at Grimes unseeingly at first. His eyes came into focus. He whispered, “It’s you.”

“Who else, Chief? Captain’s compliments, and he’d like to borrow your temporal precession field initiator.”

“He would, would he? And why?”

“An-an experiment.” said Grimes, with partial truth. The fewer people who knew the whole truth the better.

“An experiment?”

“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind letting me have it now, Chief . . . .”

“But it’s engine room stores. It’s the Commission’s stores. It’s a very delicate instrument. It is against the Commission’s regulations to issue it to unqualified personnel.”

“But Mr. Baxter is helping with the . . . experiment.”

“Mr. Baxter! That letter-off of cheap fireworks. That . . . Rim Runner! No. No. Mr. Baxter is not qualified personnel.”

“Then perhaps you could lend us one of your juniors.”

“No. No, I would not trust them. Why do you think that I am here, Mr. Grimes? Why do you think that I have been tied to my gyroscopes? Literally tied, almost. If I had not been here, keeping my own watch, when the pirates struck, this ship would have been utterly destroyed. I know the Drive, Mr. Grimes.” He seized the Ensign’s arm, turned him so that he was facing the gleaming, spinning rotors, endlessly precessing, endlessly tumbling down the dark dimensions, shimmering on the very verge of invisibility. Grimes wanted to close his eyes, but could not. “I know the Drive, Mr. Grimes. It talks to me. It shows me things. It warned me, that

time, that Death was waiting for this ship and all in her. And now it warns me again. But there is a . . . a divergence . . . .”

“Mr. Wolverton, please! There is not much time.”

“But what is Time, Mr. Grimes? What is Time? What do you know of the forking World Lines, the Worlds of If? I’ve lived with this machine, Mr. Grimes. It’s part of me-or am I part of it? Let me show you . . . .” His grip on the Ensign’s arm was painful. “Let me show you. Look. Look into the machine. What do you see?”

Grimes saw only shadowy, shimmering wheels and a formless darkness. “I see you, Mr. Grimes,” almost sang the engineer. “I see you-but not as

you will be. But as you might be. I see you on the bridge of your flagship,

your uniform gold-encrusted and medal-bedecked, with commodores and captains saluting you and calling you ‘sir’ . . . but I see you, too, in the control room of a shabby little ship, a single ship, in shabby clothes, and the badge on your cap is one that I have never seen, is one that does not yet exist . . . .”

“Mr. Wolverton! That initiator. Please!”

“But there is no hurry, Mr. Grimes. There is no hurry. There is time enough for everything-for everything that is, that has been, that will be and that might be. There is time to decide, Mr. Grimes. There is time to decide whether or not we make our second rendezvous with Death. The initiator is part of it all, Mr. Grimes, is it not? The initiator is the signpost that stands at the forking of the track. You weren’t here, Mr. Grimes, when the pirates struck. You did not hear the screams, you did not smell the stench of burning flesh. You’re young and foolhardy; all that you want is the chance to play with your toys. And all that I want, now that I know that alternatives exist, is the chance to bring this ship to her destination with no further loss of life.”

“Mr. Wolverton . . .”

“Mr. Grimes!” It was Captain Craven’s voice, and he was in a vile temper. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“Captain,” said Wolverton. “I can no more than guess at what you intend to do-but I have decided not to help you to do it.”

“Then give us the initiator. We’ll work it ourselves.” “No, Captain.”

“Give me the initiator, Mr. Wolverton. That’s an order.”

“A lawful command, Captain? As lawful as those commands of yours that armed this ship?”

“Hold him, Grimes!” (And who’s supposed to be holding whom? wondered the Ensign. Wolverton’s grip was still tight and painful on his arm.) “Hold him, while I look in the storeroom!”

“Captain! Get away from the door! You’ve no right . . .”

Wolverton relinquished his hold on Grimes who, twisting with an agility that surprised himself, contrived to get both arms about the engineer’s waist. In the scuffle the contact between their magnetic shoe soles and the deck was broken. They hung there, helpless, with no solidity within reach of their flailing limbs to give them purchase. They hung there, clinging to each  other, but more in hate than in love. Wolverton’s back was to the machine; he could not see, as could Grimes, that there was an indraught of air into the spinning, shimmering complexity. Grimes felt the beginnings of panic, more than the mere beginnings. There were no guardrails; he had read somewhere why this was so, but the abstruse physics involved did not matter-all that mattered was that there was nothing to prevent him and Wolverton from being drawn into the dimension-twisting field of the thing.

He freed, somehow, his right hand, and with an effort that sprained his shoulder brought it around in a sweeping, clumsy and brutal blow to the engineer’s face. Wolverton screamed and his grip relaxed. Violently, Grimes shoved away. To the action there was reaction.

Craven emerged from the storeroom, carrying something that looked like a child’s toy gyroscope in a transparent box. He looked around for Grimes and Wolverton at deck level and then, his face puzzled, looked up. He did not, as Grimes had been doing for some seconds, vomit-but his face, behind the beard went chalk-white. He put out his free hand and, not ungently, pulled Grimes to the deck.

He said, his voice little more than a whisper, “There’s nothing we can do. Nothing-except to get a pistol and finish him off . . . .”

Grimes forced himself to look again at the slimy, bloody obscenity that was a man turned, literally, inside-out-heart (if it was the heart) still beating, intestines still writhing.

XVI

IT WAS GRIMES who went for a pistol, fetching a Minetti from the weapons rack that he, himself, had fitted up in the Control Room. He told Jane Pentecost what he wanted it for. He made no secret of either his horror or his self blame.

She said, “But this is a war, even if it’s an undeclared one. And in a war you must expect casualties.”

“Yes, yes. I know. But I pushed him into the field.”

“It was an accident. It could easily have been you instead of him. And I’m glad that it wasn’t.”

“But you haven’t seen . . .”

“And I don’t want to.” Her voice hardened. “Meanwhile, get the hell out of here and back to the Mannschenn Drive room. If you’re so sorry for the poor bastard, do something about putting him out of his misery.”

“But . . .”

“Don’t be such a bloody coward, Grimes.”

The words hurt-mainly because there was so much truth in them. Grimes was dreading having to see again the twisted obscenity that had once been a man, was dreading having to breathe again the atmosphere of that compartment, heavy with the reek of hot oil, blood and fecal matter. But, with the exception of Craven, he was the only person in the ship trained in the arts of war. He recalled the words of a surgeon-commander who had lectured the midshipmen of his course on the handling of battle

casualties-and recalled, too, how afterward the young gentlemen had sneered at the bloodthirstiness of one who was supposed to be a professional healer. “When one of your shipmates has really had it, even if he’s your best friend, don’t hesitate a moment about finishing him off. You’ll be doing him a kindness. Finish him off-and get him out of sight. Shockingly wounded men are bad for morale.”

“What are you waiting for?” demanded Jane Pentecost. “Do you want me to do it?”

Grimes said nothing, just hurried out of the Control Room.

Craven was still in the Mannschenn Drive room when Grimes got back there. With him were two of the interstellar drive engineers-the Second and the Third. Their faces were deathly white, and the Second’s prominent Adam’s apple was working spasmodically, but about them there was an air of grim resolution. The Third-how could he bear to touch that slimy, reeking

mess?-had hold of its shoulders (white, fantastically contorted bone gleaming pallidly among red convolutions of flesh), while the Second, a heavy spanner in his hand, was trying to decide where to strike.

The Captain saw Grimes. “Give me that!” he snapped, and snatched the pistol from the Ensign’s hand. Then, to the engineers, “Stand back!”

The little weapon rattled sharply and viciously. To the other smells was added the acridity of burned propellant. What had been Wolverton was driven to the deck by the impact of the tiny projectiles, and adhered there. There was surprisingly little blood, but the body had stopped twitching.

Craven handed the empty pistol back to the Ensign. He ordered, “You stay here, Mr. Grimes, and organize the disposal of the body.” He went to the locker where he had put the initiator, took out the little instrument and, carrying it carefully, left the Mannschenn Drive room. Neither of the engineers, still staring with horrified fascination at their dead Chief, noticed.

“How . . . how did it happen?” asked the Second, after a long silence. “He fell into the field,” said Grimes.

“But how? How? He was always getting on us about being careless, and telling us what was liable to happen to us, and now it’s happened to him-“

“That’s the way of it,” contributed the Third, with a certain glum satisfaction. “Don’t do as I do, do as I say.”

“Have you a box?” asked Grimes.

“A box?” echoed the Second.

“Yes. A box.” Now that he was doing something, doing something useful, Grimes was beginning to feel a little better. “We can’t have a funeral while we’re running under interstellar drive. We have to . . . to put him somewhere.” Out of sight, he mentally added.

“That chest of spares?” muttered the Second. “Just the right size,” agreed the Third.

“Then get it,” ordered Grimes.

The chest, once the spares and their packing had been removed and stowed elsewhere, was just the right size. Its dimensions were almost those of a coffin. It was made of steel, its bottom magnetized, and remained where placed on the deck while the three men, fighting down their recurring nausea, handled the body into it. All of them sighed audibly in relief when, at last, the close-fitting lid covered the remains. Finally, the Third ran a welding torch around the joint. As he was doing so the lights flickered.

Was it because of the torch? wondered Grimes. Or was it because the beacon in the hold had been reactivated?

Somehow he could not feel any real interest.

CLEANED UP after a fashion, but still feeling physically ill, he was back in the Control Room. Craven was there, and Baxter was with him. Jane Pentecost had been relieved so that she could attend to her duties in the galley. “Not that I feel like a meal,” the Captain had said. “And I doubt very much that Mr. Grimes does either.”

“Takes a lot ter put me off me tucker,” the engineer declared cheerfully as he worked on the airlock door telltale panel.

“You didn’t see Mr. Wolverton, Mr. Baxter,” said Craven grimly.

“No, Skipper. An’ I’m not sorry I didn’t.” He paused in his work to rummage in his tool bag. He produced bulbs of brandy. “But I thought you an’ the Ensign might need some o’ this.”

Craven started to say something about cargo pillage, then changed his mind. He accepted the liquor without further quibbling. The three men sipped in silence.

Baxter carelessly tossed his squeezed empty bulb aside, continued with what he had been doing. The Captain said to Grimes, “Yes. We got the thing started again. And we’ve improved upon it.”

“Improved upon it, sir? How?”

“It’s no longer only a beacon. It’s also an alarm. As soon as it picks up the radiation from the similar pieces of apparatus aboard the enemy frigates, the buzzer that Mr. Baxter is fitting up will sound, the red light will flash. We shall have ample warning . . . .”

“She’ll be right, Skipper,” said the engineer.

“Thank you, Mr. Baxter. And now; if you don’t mind, I’d like a few words in private with Mr. Grimes.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Skipper.”

Baxter winked cheerfully at Grimes and left the control room.

“Mr. Grimes,” Craven’s voice was grave. “Mr. Grimes, today, early in your career, you have learned a lesson that some of us never have to learn. You have killed a man-yes, yes, I know that it was not intentional-and you have been privileged to see the end result of your actions.

“There are many of us who are, who have been, killers. There are many of us who have pushed buttons but who have never seen what happens at the other end of the trajectory. Perhaps people slaughtered by explosion or laser beam do not look quite so horrible as Wolverton-but, I assure you, they often look horrible enough, and often die as slowly and as agonizingly. You know, now, what violent death looks like, Mr. Grimes. So tell me, are you still willing to push your buttons, to play pretty tunes on your battle organ?”

“And what did the bodies in this ship look like, Captain?” asked Grimes. Then, remembering that one of the bodies had belonged to the woman whom Craven had loved, he bitterly regretted having asked the question.

“Not pretty,” whispered Captain Craven. “Not at all pretty.” “I’ll push your buttons for you,” Grimes told him.

And for Jane Pentecost, he thought. And for the others. And for myself? The worst of it all is that I haven’t got the excuse of saying that it’s what I’m paid for . . . .

XVII

DOWN THE DARK dimensions fell Epsilon Sextans, falling free through the warped continuum. But aboard the ship time still possessed meaning, the master chronometer still ticked away the seconds, minutes and hours; the little man-made world was still faithful to that puissant god of scientific intelligences everywhere in the universe-the Clock. Watch succeeded watch in Control Room and engine room. Meals were prepared and served on time. There was even, toward the end, a revival of off-duty social activities: a chess set was discovered and brought into use, playing cards were  produced and a bridge school formed.

But there was one social activity that, to Grimes’ disappointment was not resumed-the oldest social activity of them all. More than once he pleaded with Jane-and every time she laughed away his pleas. He insisted-and that made matters worse. He was (as he said), the donkey who had been allowed one nibble of the carrot and who could not understand why the carrot had been snatched away. He was (she said), a donkey. Period.

He should have guessed what was happening, but he did not. He was young, and inexperienced in the ways of women-of men and women. He

just could not imagine that Jane would spare more than a casual glance for any of the engineers or for the flabby, pasty youth who was the psionic radio officer-and in this he was right.

Epsilon Sextans was, for a ship of her class, very well equipped. In addition to the usual intercom system she was fitted with closed circuit television. In the event of emergency the Captain or watch officer, by the flip of a switch, could see what was happening in any compartment of the vessel. Over the control panel, in big, red letters, were the words: EMERGENCY USE ONLY. Grimes did not know what was the penalty for improper use of the apparatus in the Merchant Navy-but he did know that in the Survey Service officers had been cashiered and given an ignominious discharge for this offense. The more cramped and crowded the conditions in which men-and women-work and live, the more precious is privacy.

It was Grimes’ watch.

When he had taken over, all the indications were that it would be as boring as all the previous watches. All that was required of the watchkeeper was that he stay awake. Grimes stayed awake. He had brought a book with him into Control, hiding it inside his uniform shirt, and it held his attention for a while. Then, following the example of generations of watch officers, he set up a game of three dimensional tic-tac-toe in the chart tank and played, right hand against left. The left hand was doing remarkably well when a buzzer sounded. The Ensign immediately cleared the tank and looked at the airlock indicator panel. But there were no lights on the board, and he realized that it was the intercom telephone.

“Control,” he said into his microphone.

“P.R.O. here. I . . . I’m not happy, Mr. Grimes . . . .” “Who is?” quipped Grimes.

“I . . . I feel . . . smothered.”

“Something wrong with the ventilation in your shack?”

“No. NO. It’s like . . . it’s like a heavy blanket soaked in ice-cold water . . .

. You can’t move . . . you can’t shout . . . you can’t hear . . . . It’s like it was before . . . .”

“Before what?” snapped Grimes-and then as the other buzzer sounded, as the additional red light flashed on the telltale panel, he realized the stupidity of his question.

At once he pressed the alarm button. This was it, at last. Action Stations! Throughout the ship the bells were shrilling, the klaxons squawking. Hastily Grimes vacated the pilot’s chair, slipped into the one from which he could control his weapons-and from which he could reach out to other controls. But where was the Old Man? Where was Captain Craven? This was the moment that he had longed for, this was the consummation toward which all his illegalities had been directed. Damn it all, where was he?

Perhaps he was floating stunned in his quarters-starting up hurriedly from

sleep he could have struck his head upon some projection, knocked himself out. If this were the case he, Grimes, would have to call Jane from her own battle station in Sick Bay to render first aid. But there was no time to lose.

The Ensign reached out, flipped the switches that would give him the picture of the interior of the Captain’s accommodation. The screen brightened, came alive. Grimes stared at the luminous presentation in sick horror. Luminous it was-with that peculiar luminosity of naked female flesh. Jane was dressing herself with almost ludicrous haste. Of the Captain there was no sign-on the screen.

Craven snarled, with cold ferocity, “You damned, sneaking, prurient puppy!” Then, in a louder voice, “Switch that damn thing off! I’ll deal with you when this is over.”

“But, sir . . .” “Switch it off, I say!”

Cheeks burning, Grimes obeyed. Then he sat staring at his armament controls, fighting down his nausea, his physical sickness. Somehow, he found time to think bitterly, So I was the knight, all set and ready to slay dragons for his lady. And all the time, she . . . He did not finish the thought.

He heard a voice calling over the intercom, one of the engineers. “Captain, they’re trying to lock on! Same as last time. Random precession, sir?”

“No. Cut the Drive!”

“Cut the Drive?” Incredulously. “You heard me. Cut!” Then, to Grimes, “And what the hell are you waiting for?”

The Ensign knew what he had to do; he had rehearsed it often enough. He did it. From the nozzles that pierced the outer shell spouted the cloud of reflective vapor, just in time, just as the enemy’s lasers lashed out at their target. It seemed that the ship’s internal temperature rose suddenly and sharply-although that could have been illusion, fostered by the sight of the fiery fog glimpsed through the viewports before the armored shutters slammed home.

There were targets now on Grimes’ fire control screen, two of them, but he could not loose a missile until the tumbling rotors of the Drive had ceased to spin, to precess. The use of the anti-laser vapor screen had been risky enough. Abruptly the screens went blank-which signified that the temporal precession rates of hunted and hunters were no longer in synchronization, that the fields of the pirates had failed to lock on. In normal spacetime there would be no need to synchronize-and then the hunters would discover that their quarry had claws and teeth.

Aboard Epsilon Sextans the keening note of the Drive died to a whisper, a barely audible murmur, fading to silence. There was the inevitable second or so of utter disorientation when, as soon as it was safe, the engineers braked the gyroscopes.

Craven acted without hesitation, giving his ship headway and acceleration with Inertial Drive. He was not running-although this was the impression that he wished to convey. He was inviting rather than evading combat-but if the Waldegren captains chose to assume that Epsilon Sextans was, as she had been, an unarmed merchantman (after all, the anti-laser screen could have been jury rigged from normal ship’s stores and equipment), taking evasive action, that was their error of judgment.

Grimes watched his screens intently. Suddenly the two blips reappeared, astern, all of a hundred kilos distant, but closing. This he reported.

“Stand by for acceleration!” ordered Craven. “Reaction Drive-stand by!”

It was all part of the pattern-a last, frantic squandering of reaction mass that could do no more than delay the inevitable. It would look good from the enemy control rooms.

“Reaction Drive ready!” reported Baxter over the intercom.

“Thank you. Captain to all hands, there will be no countdown. Fire!”

From the corner of his eye Grimes saw Craven’s hand slam down on the key. Acceleration slammed him brutally back into his chair. There was a roar that was more like an explosion than a normal rocket firing, a shock that jarred and rattled every fitting in the Control Room.

Craven remarked quietly. “That must have looked convincing enough-but I hope that Baxter didn’t really blow a chamber.”

There was only the Inertial Drive now, and the two blips that, very briefly, had fallen astern, were now creeping up again, closing the range.

“Anti-laser,” ordered Craven briefly. “But, sir, it’ll just be wasting it. They’ll not be using laser outside twenty kilometers.”

“They’ll not be expecting a gunnery specialist aboard this wagon, either.” Once again the nozzles spouted, pouring out a cloud that fell rapidly astern

of the running ship, dissipating uselessly.

Craven looked at his own screens, frowned, muttered, “They’re taking their sweet time about it . . . probably low on reaction mass themselves.” He turned to Grimes. “I think a slight breakdown of the I.D.’s in order.”

“As you say, sir.” The Ensign could not forget having been called a damned, sneaking, prurient puppy. Let Craven make his own decisions.

“Stand by for Free Fall,” ordered the Captain quietly. The steady throbbing of the Inertial Drive faltered, faltered and ceased. There were two long minutes of weightlessness, and then, for five minutes, the Drive came back into operation. A breakdown, the enemy must be thinking. A breakdown, and the engineers sweating and striving to get the ship under way again. A breakdown-it would not be surprising after the mauling she had endured at the  first  encounter.

She hung there, and although her actual speed could be measured in kilometers a second she was, insofar as her accelerating pursuers were

concerned, relatively motionless. Grimes wondered why the warships did not use their radio, did not demand surrender-Epsilon Sextans’ transceiver was switched on, but no sound issued from the speaker but the hiss and crackle of interstellar static. He voiced his puzzlement to Craven.

Craven laughed grimly. “They know who we are-or they think that they know. And they know that we know who they are. After what happened before, why should we expect mercy? All that we can do now-they think-is to get the Mannschenn Drive going again. But with that comic beacon of theirs working away merrily they’ll be able to home on us, no matter how random our precession.” He laughed again. “They haven’t a care in the world, bless their little black hearts.”

Grimes watched his screens. Forty kilometers-thirty-“Sir, the ALGE?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s your party now.”

For the third time reflective vapor gushed from the nozzles, surrounding the ship with a dense cloud. Craven, who had been watching the dials of the external temperature thermometers, remarked quietly, “They’ve opened fire. The shell plating’s heating up. Fast.”

And in the Control Room it felt hot-and hotter, Grimes pressed the button that unmasked his batteries. The gas screen, as well as affording protection from laser, hid the ship from visual observation. The enemy would not be expecting defense by force of arms.

He loosed his first salvo, felt the ship tremble as the missiles ejected themselves from their launching racks. There they were on the screens-six tiny sparks, six moronic mechanical intelligences programmed to home upon and destroy, capable of countering evasive action so long as their  propellant held out. There they were on the screens-six of them, then four, then one. This last missile almost reached its target-then it, too, blinked out. The Waldegren frigates were now using their laser for defense, not attack.

“I don’t think,” remarked Craven quietly, “that they’ll use missiles. Not yet, anyhow. They want our cargo intact.” He chuckled softly. “But we’ve got them worried.”

Grimes didn’t bother to reply. The telltale lights on his panel told him that the six AVM launchers were reloaded. The AMMs-the anti-missile

missiles-had not yet been fired. Dare he risk their use against big targets? He carried in his magazines stock sufficient for three full salvos only- and with no laser for anti-missile work dare he deplete his supply of this ammunition?

He had heard the AMMs described as “vicious little brutes.” They were to the Anti-Vessel Missiles as terriers are to mastiffs. Their warheads were small, but this was compensated for by their greater endurance. They were, perhaps, a little more “intelligent” than the larger rockets-and Grimes, vaguely foreseeing this present contingency, had made certain  modifications to their “brains.”

He pushed the button that actuated his modifications, that overrode the original programming. He depressed the firing stud. He felt the vibration as the war-rockets streaked away from the ship, and on his screens watched the tiny points of light closing the range between themselves and the two big blips that were the targets. They were fast, and they were erratic. One was picked off by laser within the first ten seconds, but the others carried on, spurting and swerving, but always boring toward their objectives. Grimes could imagine the enemy gunnery officers flailing their lasers like men, armed only with sticks, defending themselves against a horde of small, savage animals. There was, of course, one sure defense-to start up the Mannschenn Drive and to slip back into the warped continuum where   the missiles could not follow. But, in all probability, the Waldegren captains had yet to accept the fact, emotionally, that this helpless merchantman  had somehow acquired the wherewithal to strike back.

Two of the AMMs were gone now, picked off by the enemy laser. Three were still closing on the target on Epsilon Sextans’ port quarter, and only one of the target abaft the starboard beam. Grimes loosed his second flight of AMMs, followed it with a full salvo of AVMs. Then, knowing that the protective vapor screen must have been thinned and shredded by his rocketry, he sent out a replenishing gush of reflective gas.

He heard Craven cry out in exultation. The three AMMs of the first flight had hit their target, the three sparks had fused with the blip that represented the raider to port. The three sparks that were the second flight were almost there, and overtaking them were the larger and brighter sparks of the second AVM salvo. The Anti-Missile Missiles would cause only minor  damage to a ship-but, in all probability, they would throw fire control out of kilter, might even destroy laser projectors. In theory, one AVM would suffice to destroy a frigate; a hit by three at once would make destruction a certainty.

And so it was.

Seen only on the radar screen, as a picture lacking in detail painted on a fluorescent surface by an electron brush, it was anticlimactic. The blips, the large one, the three small ones and the three not so small, merged. And then there was an oddly shaped blob of luminescence that slowly broke up into a cluster of glowing fragments, a gradually expanding cluster, a leisurely burgeoning flower of pale fire.

Said Craven viciously, “The other bastard’s got cold feet . . . .”

And so it was. Where she had been on the screen was only darkness, a darkness in which the sparks that were missiles and anti-missiles milled about aimlessly. They would not turn upon each other-that would have been contrary to their programming. They would not, in theory, use their remaining fuel to home upon the only worthwhile target remaining-Epsilon Sextans herself. But, as Craven knew and as Grimes knew, theory and practice do not always coincide. Ships have been destroyed by their own missiles.

With reluctance Grimes pushed the DESTRUCT button. He said to the Captain, gesturing toward the wreckage depicted on the screen, “Pick up

survivors, sir? If there are any.”

“If there are any,” snarled Craven, “that’s their bad luck. No-we give chase to the other swine!”

XVIII

GIVE CHASE . . .

It was easier said than done. The surviving frigate had restarted her Mannschenn Drive, had slipped back into the warped continuum where, unless synchronization of precession rates was achieved and held, contact between vessels would be impossible. The Carlotti Beacon in Epsilon Sextans’ hold was worse than useless; it had been designed to be homed upon, not to be a direction-finding instrument. (In any case, it could function as such only if the beacon aboard the Waldegren ship were working.) Neither Craven nor Grimes knew enough about the device to effect the necessary modifications. The interstellar drive engineers thought that they could do it, but their estimates as to the time required ranged from days to weeks. Obviously, as long as it was operating it would be of value to the enemy only.

So it was switched off.

There was only one method available to Craven to carry out the

pursuit-psionic tracking. He sent for his Psionic Radio Officer, explained the situation. The telepath was a young man, pasty faced, unhealthy looking, but not unintelligent. He said at once, “Do you think, Captain, that the other officers and myself are willing to carry on the fight? After all, we’ve made our point. Wouldn’t it be wisest to carry on, now, for Waverley?”

“Speaking for meself,” put in Baxter, who had accompanied Jane Pentecost to Control, “an’ fer any other Rim Worlders present, I say that now the bastards are on the run it’s the best time ter smack ’em again. An’ hard. An’ the tame time-twisters think the same as we do. I’ve already had words with ’em.” He glared at the telepath. “Our snoopin’ little friend here should know very well what the general consensus of opinion is.”

“We do not pry,” said the communications officer stiffly. “But I am willing to abide by the will of the majority.”

“And don’t the orders of the Master come into it?” asked Craven, more in amusement than anger.

“Lawful commands, sir?” asked Grimes who, until now, had been silent. “Shut up!” snapped Jane Pentecost.

“Unluckily, sir,” the young man went on, “I do not possess the direction-finding talent. It is, as you know, quite rare.”

“Then what can you do?” demanded Craven.

“Sir, let me finish, please. The psionic damping device-I don’t know what it was, but I suspect that it was the brain of some animal with which I am unfamiliar-was in the ship that was destroyed. The other vessel carries only

a normal operator, with normal equipment-himself and some sort of organic amplifier. He is still within range, and I can maintain a listening watch-“

“And suppose he listens to you?” asked the Captain. “Even if you transmit nothing-as you will not do, unless ordered by myself-there could be stray thoughts. And that, I suppose, applies to all of us.”

The telepath smiled smugly. “Direction-finding is not the only talent. I’m something of a damper myself-although not in the same class as the one that was blown up. I give you my word, sir, that this vessel is psionically silent.” He raised his hand as Craven was about to say something. “Now, sir, I shall be able to find out where the other ship is heading. I know already that her Mannschenn Drive unit is not working at full capacity; it sustained damage of some kind during the action. I’m not a navigator, sir, but it seems to me that we could be waiting for her when she reemerges into the normal continuum.”

“You’re not a navigator,” agreed Craven, “and you’re neither a tactician nor  a strategist. We should look rather silly, shouldn’t we, hanging in full view over a heavily fortified naval base, a sitting duck. Even so . . .” His big right hand stroked his beard. “Meanwhile, I’ll assume that our little friends are headed in the general direction of Waldegren, and set course accordingly. If Mr. Grimes will be so good as to hunt up the target star in the Directory . .

.”

Grimes did as he was told. He had made his protest, such as it was, and, he had to admit, he was in favor of continuing the battle. It was a matter of simple justice. Why should one shipload of murderers be destroyed, and the other shipload escape unscathed? He was still more than a little dubious of the legality of it all, but he did not let it worry him.

He helped Craven to line the ship up on the target star, a yellow, fifth magnitude spark. He manned the intercom while the Captain poured on the acceleration and then, with the ship again falling free, cut in the Mannschenn Drive. When the vessel was on course he expected that the Old Man would give the usual order-“Normal Deep Space routine, Mr. Grimes,”-but this was not forthcoming.

“Now,” said Craven ominously. “Now what, sir?”

“You have a short memory, Ensign. A conveniently short memory, if I may say so. Mind you, I was favorably impressed by the way you handled your armament, but that has no bearing upon what happened before.”

Grimes blushed miserably. He knew what the Captain was driving at. But, playing for time, he asked, “What do you mean, sir?”

Craven exploded. “What do I mean? You have the crust to sit there and ask me that! Your snooping, sir. Your violation of privacy. Even worse, your violation of the Master’s privacy! I shall not tell Miss Pentecost; it would be unkind to embarrass her. But . . .”

Grimes refrained from saying that he had seen Miss Pentecost wearing even

less than when, inadvertently, he had spied upon her. He muttered, “I can explain, sir.”

“You’d better. Out with it.”

“Well, sir, it was like this. I knew that we’d stumbled on the enemy-or that the enemy had stumbled upon us. I’d sounded Action Stations. And when you were a long time coming up to Control I thought that you must have hurt yourself, somehow . . . there have been such cases, as you know. So I thought I’d better check-“

“You thought . . . you thought. I’ll not say that you aren’t paid to

think-because that’s just what an officer is paid for. But you didn’t think hard enough, or along the right lines.” Grimes could see that Craven had accepted his explanation and that all would be well. The Captain’s full beard could not hide the beginnings of a smile. “Did you ever hear of Sir Francis Drake, Ensign?”

“No, sir.”

“He was an admiral-one of Queen Elizabeth’s admirals. The first Elizabeth, of course. When the Spanish Armada was sighted he did not rush down to his flagship yelling ‘Action Stations!’ He knew that there was time to spare, and so he quietly finished what he was doing before setting sail.”

“And what was he doing, sir?” asked Grimes innocently. Craven glared at him, then snapped, “Playing bowls.”

Then, suddenly, the tension was broken and both men collapsed in helpless laughter. In part it was reaction to the strain of battle-but in greater part it was that freemasonry that exists only between members of the same sex, the acknowledgment of shared secrets and shared experiences.

Grimes knew that Jane Pentecost was not for him-and wished Craven joy of her and she of the Captain. Perhaps they had achieved a permanent relationship, perhaps not-but, either way, his best wishes were with them.

Craven unbuckled his seat strap.

“Deep Space routine, Mr. Grimes. It is your watch, I believe.” “Deep Space routine it is, sir.”

Yes, it was still his watch (although so much had happened). It was still  his watch, although there were barely fifteen minutes to go before relief.  He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life before. He was tired, but not unhappy. He knew that the fact that he had killed men should be weighing heavily upon his conscience-but it did not. They, themselves, had been killers-and they had had a far better chance than any of their own victims had enjoyed.

He would shed no tears for them. XIX

CRAVEN CAME BACK to the Control Room at the change of watch, when Grimes was handing over to Jane Pentecost. He waited until the routine had been completed, then said, “We know where our friends are headed. They were, like us, running for Waldegren-but they’re having to change course.” He laughed harshly. “There must be all hell let loose on their home planet.”

“Why? What’s happened?” asked Grimes.

“I’ll tell you later. But, first of all, we have an alteration of course ourselves. Look up Dartura in the Directory, will you, while I get the Drive shut down.”

Epsilon Sextans was falling free through normal spacetime before Grimes had found the necessary information. And then there was the hunt for and the final identification of the target star, followed by the lining up by the use of the directional gyroscopes. There was the brief burst of acceleration and then, finally, the interstellar drive was cut in once more.

The Captain made a business of selecting and lighting a cigar. When the pungent combustion was well under way he said, “Our young Mr. Summers  is a good snooper. Not as good as some people I know, perhaps.” Grimes flushed and Jane Pentecost looked puzzled. “He’s a super-sensitive. He let me have a full transcript of all the signals, out and in. It took us a little time to get them sorted out-but not too long, considering. Adler-that’s the name of the surviving frigate- was running for home. Her Captain sent a rather heavily edited report of the action to his Admiral. It seems that Adler and the unfortunate Albatross were set upon and beaten up by a heavily armed Survey Service cruiser masquerading as an innocent merchantman. The Admiral, oddly enough, doesn’t want a squadron of Survey Service battlewagons laying nuclear eggs on his base. So Adler has been told to run away and lose herself until the flap’s over . . . .”

“And did they send all that en clair?” demanded Grimes. “They must be mad!”

“No, they aren’t mad. The signal’s weren’t en clair.” “But . . .”

“Reliable merchant captains,” said Craven, “are often entrusted with highly confidential naval documents. There were some such in my safe aboard Delta Orionis, consigned to the Commanding Officer of Lindisfarne Base. The officer who delivered them to me is an old friend and shipmate of mine, and he told me that among them was the complete psionic code used by the Waldegren Navy. Well, when I had decided to take over this ship, I’d have been a bloody fool not to have Photostatted the whole damned issue.

“So that’s the way of it. Herr Kapitan von Leidnitz thinks he can say what he likes to his superiors without anybody else knowing what he’s saying. And all the while . . .” Craven grinned wolfishly. “It seems that there’s a minor base, of sorts, on Dartura. Little more than repair yards, although I suppose that there’ll be a few batteries for their protection. I can imagine the sort of personnel they have running the show-passed-over commanders and the like, not overly bright. By the time that we get there we shall have concocted a convincing story-convincing enough to let us hang off in orbit

until Adler appears on the scene. After all, we have their precious code. Why should they suspect us?”

“Why shouldn’t we be Adler?” asked Grimes. “What do you mean, Ensign?”

“The Waldegren Navy’s frigates are almost identical, in silhouette, with the Commission’s Epsilon class freighters. We could disguise this ship a little by masking the dissimilarities by a rough patching of plating. After all, Adler was in action and sustained some damage-“

“Complicated,” mused the Captain. “Too complicated. And two Adlers-each, presumably, in encoded psionic communication with both Waldegren and Dartura . . . . You’ve a fine, devious mind, young Grimes-but I’m afraid you’ve out-fixed yourself on that one.”

“Let me talk, sir. Let me think out loud. To begin with-a ship running on Mannschenn Drive can put herself into orbit about a planet, but it’s not, repeat not, recommended.”

“Damn right it’s not.”

“But we have the heels of Adler? Yes? Then we could afford a slight delay to carry out the modifications-the disguise-that I’ve suggested. After all, forty odd light years is quite a long way.”

“But what do we gain, Mr. Grimes?”

“The element of confusion, sir. Let me work it out. We disguise ourselves as well as we can. We find out, from intercepted and decoded signals, Adler’s ETA-and the coordinates of her breakthrough into the normal continuum. We contrive matters to be more or less in the same place at exactly the same time. And when the shore batteries and the guardships see no less than two Adlers slugging it out, each of them yelling for help in the secret code, they won’t know which of us to open fire on.”

“Grimes,” said Craven slowly, “I didn’t know you had it in you. All I can say is that I’m glad that you’re on our side.”

“Am I?” asked Grimes wonderingly,. suddenly deflated. He looked at the Captain who, after all, was little better than a pirate, whose accomplice he had become. He looked at the girl, but for whom he would not be here. “Am I? Damn it all, whose side am I on?”

“You’d better go below,” Craven told him gently. “Go below and get some sleep. You need it. You’ve earned it.”

“Jeremy,” said Jane Pentecost to Craven, “would you mind looking after the shop for half an hour or so? I’ll go with John.”

“As you please, my dear. As you please.”

It was the assurance in the Captain’s voice that hurt. It won’t make any difference to us, it implied. It can’t make any difference. Sure, Jane, go ahead. Throw the nice little doggie a bone . . . . we can spare it.

“No thank you,” said Grimes coldly, and left the Control Room. But he couldn’t hate these people.

XX

AFTER A LONG SLEEP Grimes felt better. After a meal he felt better still. It was a good meal, even though the solid portion of it came from tins. Craven’s standards were slipping, thought the Ensign. He was reasonably sure that such items as caviar, escargots, pƒt‚ de foie gras, Virginia ham, Brie, and remarkably alcoholic cherries were not included in the Commission’s inventory of emergency stores. And neither would be the  quite reasonable Montrachet, although it had lost a little by being decanted from its original bottles into standard squeeze bulbs. But if the Captain had decided that the laborer was worthy of his hire, with the consignees of the cargo making their contribution toward that hire, that was his privilege . . .? Responsibility?-call it what you will.

Jane Pentecost watched him eat. As he was finishing his coffee she said, “Now that our young lion has fed, he is required in the Control Room.”

He looked at her both gratefully and warily. “What have I done now?” “Nothing, my dear. It is to discuss what you-we-will do. Next.”

He followed her to Control. Craven was there, of course, and so were Baxter and Summers. The Captain was enjoying one of his rank cigars, and a limp, roll-your-own cigarette dangled from the engineer’s lower lip. The telepath coughed pointedly every time that acrid smoke expelled by either man drifted his way. Neither paid any attention to him, and neither did Grimes when he filled and lighted his own pipe.

Craven said, “I’ve been giving that scheme of yours some thought. It’s a good one.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. I should thank you. Mr. Summers, here, has been maintaining a careful listening watch. Adler’s ETA is such that we can afford to shut down the Drive to make the modifications that you suggest. To begin with, we’ll fake patching plates with plastic sheets-we can’t afford to cannibalize any more of the ship’s structure-so as to obscure our name and identification letters. We’ll use more plastic to simulate missile launchers and laser projectors-luckily there’s plenty of it in the cargo.”

“We found more than plastic while we were lookin’ for it,” said the engineer, licking his lips.

“That will do, Mr. Baxter. Never, in normal circumstances, should I have condoned . . .”

“These circumstances ain’t normal, Skipper, an’ we all bloody well know it.” “That will do, I say.” Craven inhaled deeply, then filled the air of the

Control Room with a cloud of smoke that, thought Grimes, would have

reflected laser even at close range. Summers almost choked, and Jane

snapped, “Jeremy!”

“This, my dear, happens to be my Control Room.” He turned again to the Ensign. “It will not be necessary, Mr. Grimes, to relocate the real weapons. They functioned quite efficiently where they are and, no doubt, will do so again. And now, as soon as I have shut down the Drive, I shall hand the watch over to you. You are well rested and refreshed.”

“Come on,” said Jane to Baxter. “Let’s get suited up and get that sheeting out of the airlock.”

“Couldn’t Miss Pentecost hold the fort, sir?” asked Grimes. He added, “I’ve been through the camouflage course at the Academy.”

“And so have I, Mr. Grimes. Furthermore, Miss Pentecost has had experience in working outside, but I don’t think that you have.”

“No, sir. But . . . “

“That will be all, Mr. Grimes.”

At Craven’s orders the Drive was shut down, and outside the viewports the sparse stars became stars again, were no longer pulsing spirals of

multi-colored light. Then, alone in Control, Grimes actuated his scanners so that he could watch the progress of the work outside the hull, and switched on the transceiver that worked on the spacesuit frequency.

This time he ran no risk of being accused of being a Peeping Tom.

He had to admire the competence with which his shipmates worked. The plastic sheeting had no mass to speak of, but it was awkward stuff to handle. Torches glowed redly as it was cut, and radiated invisibly in the infrared as it was shaped and welded. The workers, in their bulky, clumsy suits, moved with a grace that was in startling contrast to their attire-a Deep Space ballet, thought Grimes, pleasurably surprised at his own way with words. From the speaker of the transceiver came Craven’s curt orders, the brief replies of the others.

“This way a little . . . that’s it.” “She’ll do, Skipper.”

“No she won’t. Look at the bend on it!”

Then Jane’s laughing voice. “Our secret weapon, Jeremy. A laser that fires around  corners!”

“That will do, Miss Pentecost. Straighten it, will you?” “Ay, ay, sir. Captain, sir.”

The two interstellar drive engineers were working in silence, but with efficiency. Aboard the ship were only Grimes and Summers, the telepath.

Grimes felt out of it, but somebody had to mind the shop, he supposed. But the likelihood of any customers was remote.

Then he stiffened in his chair. One of the spacesuited figures was falling away from the vessel, drifting out and away, a tiny, glittering satellite reflecting the harsh glare of the working floods, a little, luminous butterfly pinned to the black velvet of the Ultimate Night. Who was it? He didn’t know for certain, but thought that it was Jane. The ship’s interplanetary drives-reaction and inertial- were on remote control, but reaction drive was out; before employing it he would have to swing to the desired heading by use of the directional gyroscopes. But the inertial drive was versatile.

He spoke into the microphone of the transceiver. “Secure yourselves. I am proceeding to rescue.”

At once Craven’s voice snapped back, “Hold it, Grimes. Hold it! There’s no danger.”

“But, sir . . . ” “Hold it!”

Grimes could see the distant figure now from a viewport, but it did not seem to be receding any longer. Hastily he checked with the radar. Range and bearing were not changing. Then, with relative bearing unaltered, the range was closing. He heard Jane call out, “Got it! I’m on the way back!”

Craven replied, “Make it snappy-otherwise young Grimes’ll be chasing you all over the Universe!”

Grimes could see, now, the luminous flicker of a suit reaction unit from the lonely figure.

Later, he and the others examined the photographs that Jane had taken.

Epsilon Sextans looked as she was supposed to look-like a badly battle-scarred frigate of the Waldegren Navy.

XXI

IN TERMS OF SPACE and of time there was not much longer to go.

The two ships-one knowing and one unknowing-raced toward their rendezvous. Had they been plunging through the normal continuum there would have been, toward the finish, hardly the thickness of a coat of paint between them, the adjustment of a microsecond in temporal precession rates would have brought inevitable collision. Craven knew this from the results of his own observations and from the encoded position reports, sent at six hourly intervals, by Adler. Worried, he allowed himself to fall astern, a mere half kilometer. It would be enough-and, too, it would mean that the frigate would mask him from the fire of planet-based batteries.

Summers maintained his listening watch. Apart from the position reports he had little of interest to tell the Captain. Adler, once or twice, had tried to get in contact with the Main Base on Waldegren-but, other than from a curt directive to proceed as ordered there were no signals from the planet to the ship. Dartura Base was more talkative. That was understandable. There  was no colony on the planet and the Base personnel must be bored, must be pining for the sight of fresh faces, the sound of fresh voices. They would

have their excitement soon enough, promised Craven grimly.

Through the warped continuum fell the two ships, and ahead the pulsating spiral that was the Dartura sun loomed ever brighter, ever larger. There were light years yet to go, but the Drive-induced distortions made it seem that tentacles of incandescent gas were already reaching out to clutch them, to drag them into the atomic furnace at the heart of the star.

In both Control Rooms watch succeeded watch-but the thoughts and the anticipations of the watchkeepers were not the same. Aboard Adler there was the longing for rest, for relaxation-although Adler’s Captain must have been busy with the composition of a report that would clear him (if  possible) of blame for his defeat. Aboard Epsilon Sextans there was the anticipation of revenge-insofar as Craven, Baxter, Jane Pentecost and the survivors of the ship’s original personnel were concerned. Grimes? As the hour of reckoning approached he was more and more dubious. He did not know what to think, what to feel. There was the strong personal loyalty to Craven-and, even now, to Jane Pentecost. There was the friendship and mutual respect that had come into being between himself and Baxter.  There was the knowledge that Adler’s crew were no better than pirates, were murderers beyond rehabilitation. There was the pride he felt in his  own skill as a gunnery officer. (But, as such, was he, himself, any better than a pirate, a murderer? The exercise of his craft aboard a warship would be legal-but here, aboard a merchantman, and a disguised merchantman at that, the legality was doubtful. What had his motives been when he volunteered-and as a commissioned officer of the Survey Service he had had no right to do so-and what were his motives now?)

He, Grimes, was not happy. He had far too much time to ponder the implications. He was an accessory before, during and after the fact. He had started off correctly enough, when he had tried to prevent Craven from requisitioning the Survey Service cargo aboard Delta Orionis, but after that .

. . after he and Jane . . . (that, he admitted, was a memory that he wanted to keep, always, just as that other memory, of the bright picture of naked female flesh on the screen, he wished he could lose forever.)

He had started off correctly enough-and then, not only had he helped install the purloined armament but had used it. (And used it well, he told himself with a brief resurgence of pride.) Furthermore, the disguise of Epsilon Sextans had been his idea.

Oh, he was in it, all right. He was in up to his neck. What the final outcome of it all would be he did not care to contemplate.

But it would soon be over. He had no fears as to the outcome of the battle. The element of surprise would be worth at least a dozen missile launchers. Adler would never have the chance to use her laser.

ADLER, REPORTED SUMMERS, had shut down her Mannschenn Drive and emerged briefly into normal spacetime to make her final course adjustment. She was now headed not for the Dartura Sun but for the planet itself-or where the planet would be at the time of her final-and fatal- reemergence into the continuum. The last ETA was sent, together with the coordinates of her planetfall. Epsilon Sextans made her own course

adjustment-simultaneity in time and a half kilometer’s divergence in space being Craven’s objective. It was finicky work, even with the use of the ship’s computer, but the Captain seemed satisfied.

The race-the race that would culminate in a dead heat-continued. Aboard the frigate there was, reported Summers, a lessening of tension, the loosening up that comes when a voyage is almost over. Aboard the merchantman the tension increased. The interstellar drive engineers, Grimes knew, were no happier about it all than he was-but they could no more back out than he could. Craven was calm and confident, and Baxter was beginning to gloat. Jane Pentecost assumed the air of dedication that in women can be so infuriating. Grimes glumly checked and rechecked his weaponry. It passed the time.

Dartura itself was visible now-not as tiny disk of light but as a glowing annulus about its distorted primary. The thin ring of luminescence broadened, broadened. The time to go dwindled to a week, to days, to a day, and then to hours . . .

To minutes . . . To seconds . . . .

Craven and Grimes were in the Control Room; the others were at their various stations. From the intercom came the telepath’s voice, “He’s cutting the Drive-“

“Cut the Drive!” ordered the Captain.

In the Mannschenn Drive room the spinning, precessing gyroscopes slowed, slowed, ceased their endless tumbling, assumed the solidity that they exhibited only when at rest. For perhaps two seconds there was temporal confusion in the minds of all on board as the precession field died, and past, present and future inextricably mingled. Then there was a sun glaring through the viewports, bright in spite of the polarization-a sun, and, directly ahead, a great, green-orange planet. There was a ship . . . .

There were ships-ahead of them, astern, on all sides.

There were ships-and, booming from the intership transceiver, the transceiver that was neither tuned nor switched on (but navies could afford induction transmitters with their fantastic power consumption), came the authorative voice: “Inflexible to Adler! Heave to for search and seizure ! Do not attempt to escape-our massed fields will hold you!”

The effect was rather spoiled when the same voice added, in bewilderment, “Must be seeing double . . . there’s two of the bastards.” The bewilderment did not last long. “Inflexible to Adler and to unidentified vessel. Heave to for search and seizure!”

“Hold your fire, Mr. Grimes,” ordered Craven, quietly and bitterly. “It’s the Survey Service.”

“I know,” replied Grimes-and pressed the button. XXII

HE NEVER KNEW just why he had done so.

Talking it over afterward, thinking about it, he was able to evolve a theory that fitted the facts. During the brief period immediately after the shutting down of the Drive, during the short session of temporal disorientation, there had been prescience, of a sort. He had known that Adler, come what may, would attempt one last act of defiance and revenge, just as Adler’s Captain or Gunnery Officer must have known, in that last split second, that Nemesis was treading close upon his heels.

He pushed the button-and from the nozzles in the shell plating poured the reflective vapor, the protective screen that glowed ruddily as Adler’s lasers slashed out at it.

From the speaker of the dead transceiver, the transceiver that should have been dead, roared the voice of the Survey Service Admiral. “Adler! Cease fire! Cease fire, damn you!” There was a pause, then: “You’ve asked for it!”

She had asked for it-and now she got it. Suddenly the blip on Grimes’ screen that represented the Waldegren frigate became two smaller blips, and then four. The rolling fog outside Epsilon Sextans’ viewports lost its luminosity, faded suddenly to drab grayness. The voice from the transceiver said coldly, “And now you, whoever you are, had better identify yourself. And fast.”

Craven switched on the communications equipment. He spoke quietly into the microphone. “Interstellar Transport Commission’s Epsilon Sextans. Bound Waverly, with general cargo . . .”

“Bound Waverley? Then what the hell are you doing here? And what’s that armament you’re mounting?”

“Plastic,” replied the Captain. “Plastic dummies.”

“And I suppose your ALGE is plastic, too. Come off it, Jerry. We’ve already boarded your old ship, and although your ex-Mate was most reluctant to talk we got a story of sorts from him.”

“I thought I recognized your voice, Bill. May I congratulate you upon your belated efforts to stamp out piracy?”

“And may I deplore your determination to take the law into your own hands? Stand by for the boarding party.”

Grimes looked at Craven, who was slumped in his seat. The Master’s full beard effectively masked his expression. “Sir,” asked the Ensign. “What can they do? What will they do?”

“You’re the space lawyer, Grimes. You’re the expert on Survey Service rules and regulations. What will it be, do you think? A medal-or a firing squad? Praise or blame?”

“You know the Admiral, sir?”

“Yes. I know the Admiral. We’re old shipmates.”

“Then you should be safe.”

“Safe? I suppose so. Safe from the firing squad-but not safe from my employers. I’m a merchant captain, Grimes, and merchant captains aren’t supposed to range the spacelanes looking for trouble. I don’t think they’ll dare fire me-but I know that I can never expect command of anything  better than Delta class ships, on the drearier runs.” Grimes saw that Craven was smiling. “But there’re still the Rim Worlds. There’s still the Sundowner Line, and the chance of high rank in the Rim Worlds Navy when and if there is such a service.”

“You have . . . inducements, sir?”

“Yes. There are . . . inducements. Now.”

“I thought, once,” said Grimes, “that I could say the same. But not now. Not any longer. Even so . . . I’m Survey Service, sir, and I should be proud of my service. But in this ship, this merchant vessel, with her makeshift armament, we fought against heavy odds, and won. And, just now, we saved ourselves. It wasn’t the Survey Service that saved us.”

“Don’t be disloyal,” admonished Craven.

“I’m not being disloyal, sir. But . . . or, shall we say, I’m being loyal. You’re the first captain under whom I served under fire. If you’re going out to the Rim Worlds I’d like to come with you.”

“Your commission, Grimes. You know that you must put in ten years’ service before resignation is possible.”

“But I’m dead.”

“Dead!”

“Yes. Don’t you remember? I was snooping around in the Mannschenn Drive room and I got caught in the temporal precession field. My body still awaits burial; it’s in a sealed metal box in the deep freeze. It can never be identified.”

Craven laughed. “I’ll say this for you. You’re ingenious. But how do we account for the absence of the late Mr. Wolverton? And your presence aboard this ship?”

“I can hide, sir, and . . .”

“And while you’re hiding you’ll concoct some story that will explain everything. Oh Grimes, Grimes-you’re an officer I wish I could always have with me. But I’ll not stand in the way of your career. All I can do, all I will do, is smooth things over on your behalf with the Admiral. I should be able to manage that.”

Jane Pentecost emerged from the hatch in the Control Room deck. Addressing Craven she said formally, “Admiral Williams, sir.” She moved to one side to make way for the flag officer.

“Jerry, you bloody pirate!” boomed Williams, a squat, rugged man the left

breast of whose shirt was ablaze with ribbons. He advanced with outstretched hand.

“Glad to have you aboard, Bill. This is Liberty Hall-you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard!”

“Not again!” groaned Grimes.

“And who is this young man?” asked the Admiral.

“I owe you-or your Service-an apology, Bill. This is Ensign Grimes, who was a passenger aboard Delta Orionis. I’m afraid that I . . . er . . . press-ganged him into my service. But he has been most . . . cooperative?  Uncooperative? Which way do you want it?

“As we are at war with Waldegren-I’d say cooperative with reservations. Was it he, by the way, who used the ALGE? Just as well for you all that he did.”

“At war with Waldegren?” demanded Jane Pentecost. “So you people have pulled your fingers out at last.”

The Admiral raised his eyebrows.

“One of my Rim Worlders,” explained Craven. “But I shall be a Rim Worlder myself shortly.”

“You’re wise, Jerry. I’ve got the buzz that the Commission is taking a very dim view of your piracy or privateering or whatever it was, and my own lords and masters are far from pleased with you. You’d better get the hell out before the lawyers have decided just what crimes you are guilty of.”

“As bad as that?” “As bad as that.”

“And young Grimes, here?”

“We’ll take him back. Six months’ strict discipline aboard my flagship will undo all the damage that you and your ideas have done to him. And now, Jerry, I’d like your full report.”

“In my cabin, Bill. Talking is thirsty work.” “Then lead on. It’s your ship.”

“And it’s your watch, Mr. Grimes. She’ll come to no harm on this trajectory while we get things sorted out.”

GRIMES SAT WITH JANE PENTECOST in the Control Room. Through the ports, had he so desired, he could have watched the rescue teams extricating the survivors from the wreckage of Adler; he could have stared out at the looming bulk of Dartura on the beam. But he did not do so, and neither did he look at his instruments.

He looked at Jane. There was so much about her that he wanted to remember-and, after all, so very little that he was determined to forget.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Grimes, will you pack whatever gear you have and prepare to transfer with Admiral Williams to the flagship? Hand the watch over to Miss Pentecost.”

“But you’ll be shorthanded, sir.”

“The Admiral is lending me a couple of officers for the rest of the voyage.” “Very good, sir.”

Grimes made no move. He looked at Jane-a somehow older, a tireder, a more human Jane than the girl he had first met. He said, “I’d have liked to have come out to the Rim with you . . . .”

She said, “It’s impossible, John.” “I know. But . . .”

“You’d better get packed.”

He unbuckled his seat belt, went to where she was sitting. He kissed her. She responded, but it was only the merest flicker of a response.

He said, “Goodbye.”

She said, “Not goodbye. We’ll see you out on the Rim, sometime.” With a bitterness that he was always to regret he replied, “Not very likely.”

The End

Final notes on John Grimes

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Solution Unsatisfactory (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

Robert A. Heinlein’s fiction excelled at predicting the effects of technology, how particular tools would change society and the lives of people who used them daily. He usually didn’t predict the details, but his predictions of what technologies would mean were often uncanny.

The most dramatic example of this kind of prediction is “Solution Unsatisfactory,” a story which Heinlein wrote in 1940, which predicted the Cold War before the U.S. was even in World War II, and before the Manhattan Project. In the story, the U.S. develops a nuclear weapon and, for a brief time, is the only nuclear power in the whole world. America knows that its enemies will get the weapon soon.

That much actually happened in real life, five years later.

But the story of “Solution Unsatisfactory” takes a different turn than real-life events turned out. In “Solution Unsatisfactory,” the head of the nuclear weapons project overthrows the government of the U.S. and sets up a global, international dictatorship with monopoly control of the nuclear weapon. And that’s the unsatisfactory solution of the story—the narrator of the story, the head of the nuclear weapons project, and presumably Heinlein himself all hate this option, but see the only other alternative, a global nuclear war, to be worse.

Was Heinlein’s unsatisfactory solution a nightmare scenario which we blessedly avoided? Maybe. But instead, we got 40 years of Cold War, the U.S.S.R. dominating half the developed world, and the U.S. propping up nasty dictatorships in the other half. And just because the Cold War is over, the threat hasn’t gone away; nuclear weapons are still common, as are governments and organizations willing to use them.

Heinlein was writing about these issues before nuclear weapons had been invented. He got the effects of the technology right, but he got the technology itself wrong. The weapon he predicted wasn’t a bomb, it was radioactive dust.

FOREWORD

By the author Robert Heinlein.

I had always planned to quit the writing business as soon as that mortgage was paid off. I had never had any literary ambitions, no training for it, no interest in itbacked into it by accident and stuck with it to pay off debt, I being always firmly resolved to quit the silly business once I had my chart squared away.  

At a meeting of the Mariana Literary Societyan amorphous disorganization having as its avowed purpose "to permit young writers to talk out their stories to each other in order to get them off their minds and thereby save themselves the trouble of writing them down"—at a gathering of this noble group I was expounding my determination to retire from writing once my bills were paidin a few weeks, during 1940, if the tripe continued to sell.  

William A. P. White ("Anthony Boucher") gave me a sour look. "Do you know any retired writers?" 

"How could I? All the writers I've ever met are in this room." 

"Irrelevant. You know retired school teachers, retired naval officers, retired policemen, retired farmers. Why don't you know at least one retired writer?" 

"What are you driving at?" 

"Robert, there are no retired writers. There are writers who have stopped selling . . . but they have not stopped writing.I pooh-poohed Bill's remarks—possibly what he said applied to writers in general . . . but I wasn't really a writer; I was just a chap who needed money and happened to discover that pulp writing offered an easy way to grab some without stealing and without honest work. ("Honest work"—a euphemism for underpaid bodily exertion, done standing up or on your knees, often in bad weather or other nasty circumstances, and frequently involving shovels, picks, hoes, assembly lines, tractors, and unsympathetic supervisors. It has never appealed to me.Sitting at a typewriter in a nice warm room, with no boss, cannot possibly be described as "honest work.") 

"Blowups Happen" sold and I gave a mortgage-burning party. But I did not quit writing at once (24 Feb. 1940) because, while I had the Old Man of the Sea (that damned mortgage) off my back, there were still some other items. I needed a new car; the house needed paint and some repairs; I wanted to make a trip to New York; and it would not hurt to have a couple of hundred extra in the bank as a cushionand I had a dozen-odd stories in file, planned and ready to write.  

So I wrote Magic, Incorporated and started east on the proceeds, and wrote "They" and Sixth Column while I was on that trip. The latter was the only story of mine ever influenced to any marked degree by John W. Campbell, Jr. He had in file an unsold story he had written some years earlier. JWCdid not show me his manuscript; instead he told me the story line orally and stated that, if I would write it, he would buy it.  

He needed a serial; I needed an automobile. I took the brass check.  

Writing Sixth Column was a job I sweated over. I had to reslant it to remove racist aspects of the original story line. And I didn't really believe the pseudoscientific rationale of Campbell's three spectra—so I worked especially hard to make it sound realistic.  

It worked out all right. The check for the serial, plus 35¢ in cash, bought me that new car . . . and the book editions continue to sell and sell and sell, and have earned more than forty times as much as I was paid for the serial. So it was a financial success . . . but I do not consider it to be an artistic success.   
While I was back east I told Campbell of my plans to quit writing later that year. He was not pleased as I was then his largest supplier of copy. I finally said, "John, I am not going to write any more stories against deadlines. But I do have a few more stories on tap that I could write. I'll send you a story from time to time . . . until the daycomes when you bounce one. At that point we're through. Now that I know you personally, having a story rejected by you would be too traumatic.So I went back to California and sold him "Crooked House" and "Logic of Empire and "Universe" and "Solution Unsatisfactory" and "Methuselah's Children" and "By His Bootstraps" and "Common Sense" and "Goldfish Bowl" and Beyond "This Horizon" and "Waldo" and "The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag"—which brings us smack up against World War II.   

Campbell did bounce one of the above (and I shan't say which one) and I promptly retiredput in a new irrigation systembuilt a garden terraceresumed serious photography, etc. This went on for about a month when I found that I was beginning to be vaguely ill: poor appetite, loss of weight, insomnia, jittery, absent-mindedmuch like the early symptoms of pulmonary tuberculosis, and I thought, "Damn it, am I going to have still a third attack?Campbell dropped me a note and asked why he hadn't heard from meI reminded him of our conversation months past: He had rejected one of my stories and that marked my retirement from an occupation that I had never planned to pursue permanently.  

He wrote back and asked for another look at the story he had bounced. I sent it to him, he returned it promptly with the recommendation that I take out this comma, speed up the 1st half of page umpteen, delete that adjectivefiddle changes that Katie Tarrant would have done if told to.  

I sat down at my typewriter to make the suggested changes . . . and suddenly realized that I felt good for the first time in weeks.  

Bill "Tony BoucherWhite had been dead right. Once you get the monkey on your back there is no cure short of the grave. I can leave the typewriter alone for weeks, even months, by going to sea. I can hold off for any necessary time if I am strenuously engaged in some other full-time,worthwhile occupation such as a construction job, a political campaign, or (damn it!) recovering from illness.  

But if I simply loaf for more than two or three days, that monkey starts niggling at me. Then nothing short of a few thousand words will soothe my nerves. And as I get older the attacks get worse; it is beginning to take 300,000 words and up to produce that feeling of warm satiation. At that I don't have it in its most virulent form; two of my colleagues are reliably reported not to have missed their daily fix in more than forty years.   

The best that can be said for "Solution Unsatisfactory" is that the solution is still unsatisfactory and the dangers are greater than ever. There is little satisfaction in having called the turn forty years ago; being a real-life Cassandra is not happy-making.  

SOLUTION UNSATISFACTORY

In 1903 the Wright brothers flew at Kitty Hawk.

In December, 1938, in Berlin, Dr. Hahn split the uranium atom.

In April, 1943, Dr. Estelle Karst, working under the Federal Emergency Defense Authority, perfected the Karst-Obre technique for producing artificial radioactives.

So American foreign policy had to change.

Had to. Had to. It is very difficult to tuck a bugle call back into a bugle. Pandora’s Box is a one-way proposition. You can turn pig into sausage, but not sausage into pig. Broken eggs stay broken. “All the King’s horses and all the King’s men can’t put Humpty together again.”

I ought to know—I was one of the King’s men.

By rights I should not have been. I was not a professional military man when World War II broke out, and when Congress passed the draft law I drew a high number, high enough to keep me out of the army long enough to die of old age.

Not that very many died of old age that generation!

But I was the newly appointed secretary to a freshman congressman; I had been his campaign manager and my former job had left me. By profession, I was a high-school teacher of economics and sociology—school boards don’t like teachers of social subjects actually to deal with social problems—and my contract was not renewed. I jumped at the chance to go to Washington.

My congressman was named Manning. Yes, the Manning, Colonel Clyde C. Manning, U.S. Army retired—Mr. Commissioner Manning. What you may not know about him is that he was one of the Army’s No. 1 experts in chemical warfare before a leaky heart put him on the shelf. I had picked him, with the help of a group of my political associates, to run against the two-bit chiseler who was the incumbent in our district. We needed a strong liberal candidate and Manning was tailor-made for the job. He had served one term in the grand jury, which cut his political eye teeth, and had stayed active in civic matters thereafter.

Being a retired army officer was a political advantage in vote-getting among the more conservative and well-to-do citizens, and his record was O.K. for the other side of the fence. I’m not primarily concerned with vote-getting; what I liked about him was that, though he was liberal, he was tough-minded, which most liberals aren’t. Most liberals believe that water runs downhill, but, praise God, it’ll never reach the bottom.

Manning was not like that. He could see a logical necessity and act on it, no matter how unpleasant it might be.* * *

We were in Manning’s suite in the House Office Building, taking a little blow from that stormy first session of the Seventy-eighth Congress and trying to catch up on a mountain of correspondence, when the War Department called. Manning answered it himself.

I had to overhear, but then I was his secretary. “Yes,” he said, “speaking. Very well, put him on. Oh . . . hello, General . . . Fine, thanks. Yourself?” Then there was a long silence. Presently, Manning said, “But I can’t do that, General, I’ve got this job to take care of. . . . What’s that? . . . Yes, who is to do my committee work and represent my district? . . . I think so.” He glanced at his wrist watch. “I’ll be right over.”

He put down the phone, turned to me, and said, “Get your hat, John. We are going over to the War Department.”

“So?” I said, complying.

“Yes,” he said with a worried look, “the Chief of Staff thinks I ought to go back to duty.” He set off at a brisk walk, with me hanging back to try to force him not to strain his bum heart. “It’s impossible, of course.” We grabbed a taxi from the stand in front of the office building and headed for the Department.

But it was possible, and Manning agreed to it, after the Chief of Staff presented his case. Manning had to be convinced, for there is no way on earth for anyone, even the President himself, to order a congressman to leave his post, even though he happens to be a member of the military service, too.

The Chief of Staff had anticipated the political difficulty and had been forehanded enough to have already dug up an opposition congressman with whom to pair Manning’s vote for the duration of the emergency. This other congressman, the Honorable Joseph T. Brigham, was a reserve officer who wanted to go to duty himself—or was willing to; I never found out which. Being from the opposite political party, his vote in the House of Representatives could be permanently paired against Manning’s and neither party would lose by the arrangement.

There was talk of leaving me in Washington to handle the political details of Manning’s office, but Manning decided against it, judging that his other secretary could do that, and announced that I must go along as his adjutant. The Chief of Staff demurred, but Manning was in a position to insist, and the Chief had to give in.

A chief of staff can get things done in a hurry if he wants to. I was sworn in as a temporary officer before we left the building; before the day was out I was at the bank, signing a note to pay for the sloppy service uniforms the Army had adopted and to buy a dress uniform with a beautiful shiny belt—a dress outfit which, as it turned out, I was never to need.* * *

We drove over into Maryland the next day and Manning took charge of the Federal nuclear research laboratory, known officially by the hush-hush title of War Department Special Defense Project No. 347. I didn’t know a lot about physics and nothing about modern atomic physics, aside from the stuff you read in the Sunday supplements. Later, I picked up a smattering, mostly wrong, I suppose, from associating with the heavyweights with whom the laboratory was staffed.

Colonel Manning had taken an Army p.g. course at Massachusetts Tech and had received a master of science degree for a brilliant thesis on the mathematical theories of atomic structure. That was why the Army had to have him for this job. But that had been some years before; atomic theory had turned several cartwheels in the meantime; he admitted to me that he had to bone like the very devil to try to catch up to the point where he could begin to understand what his highbrow charges were talking about in their reports.

I think he overstated the degree of his ignorance; there was certainly no one else in the United States who could have done the job. It required a man who could direct and suggest research in a highly esoteric field, but who saw the problem from the standpoint of urgent military necessity. Left to themselves, the physicists would have reveled in the intellectual luxury of an unlimited research expense account, but, while they undoubtedly would have made major advances in human knowledge, they might never have developed anything of military usefulness, or the military possibilities of a discovery might be missed for years.

It’s like this: It takes a smart dog to hunt birds, but it takes a hunter behind him to keep him from wasting time chasing rabbits. And the hunter needs to know nearly as much as the dog.

No derogatory reference to the scientists is intended—by no means! We had all the genius in the field that the United States could produce, men from Chicago, Columbia, Cornell, M.I.T., Cal Tech, Berkeley, every radiation laboratory in the country, as well as a couple of broad-A boys lent to us by the British. And they had every facility that ingenuity could think up and money could build. The five-hundred-ton cyclotron which had originally been intended for the University of California was there, and was already obsolete in the face of the new gadgets these brains had thought up, asked for, and been given. Canada supplied us with all the uranium we asked for—tons of the treacherous stuff—from Great Bear Lake, up near the Yukon, and the fractional-residues technique of separating uranium isotope 235 from the commoner isotope 238 had already been worked out, by the same team from Chicago that had worked up the earlier expensive mass spectrograph method.

Someone in the United States government had realized the terrific potentialities of uranium 235 quite early and, as far back as the summer of 1940, had rounded up every atomic research man in the country and had sworn them to silence. Atomic power, if ever developed, was planned to be a government monopoly, at least till the war was over. It might turn out to be the most incredibly powerful explosive ever dreamed of, and it might be the source of equally incredible power. In any case, with Hitler talking about secret weapons and shouting hoarse insults at democracies, the government planned to keep any new discoveries very close to the vest.

Hitler had lost the advantage of a first crack at the secret of uranium through not taking precautions. Dr. Hahn, the first man to break open the uranium atom, was a German. But one of his laboratory assistants had fled Germany to escape a pogrom. She came to this country, and told us about it.

We were searching, there in the laboratory in Maryland, for a way to use U235 in a controlled explosion. We had a vision of a one-ton bomb that would be a whole air raid in itself, a single explosion that would flatten out an entire industrial center. Dr. Ridpath, of Continental Tech, claimed that he could build such a bomb, but that he could not guarantee that it would not explode as soon as it was loaded and as for the force of the explosion—well, he did not believe his own figures; they ran out to too many ciphers.

The problem was, strangely enough, to find an explosive which would be weak enough to blow up only one county at a time, and stable enough to blow up only on request. If we could devise a really practical rocket fuel at the same time, one capable of driving a war rocket at a thousand miles an hour, or more, then we would be in a position to make most anybody say “uncle” to Uncle Sam.

We fiddled around with it all the rest of 1943 and well into 1944. The war in Europe and the troubles in Asia dragged on. After Italy folded up, England was able to release enough ships from her Mediterranean fleet to ease the blockade of the British Isles. With the help of the planes we could now send her regularly and with the additional over-age destroyers we let her have, England hung on somehow, digging in and taking more and more of her essential defense industries underground. Russia shifted her weight from side to side as usual, apparently with the policy of preventing either side from getting a sufficient advantage to bring the war to a successful conclusion. People were beginning to speak of “permanent war.”* * *

I was killing time in the administrative office, trying to improve my typing—a lot of Manning’s reports had to be typed by me personally—when the orderly on duty stepped in and announced Dr. Karst. I flipped the interoffice communicator. “Dr. Karst is here, chief. Can you see her?”

“Yes,” he answered, through his end.

I told the orderly to show her in.

Estelle Karst was quite a remarkable old girl and, I suppose, the first woman ever to hold a commission in the Corps of Engineers. She was an M.D. as well as an Sc.D. and reminded me of the teacher I had had in fourth grade. I guess that was why I always stood up instinctively when she came into the room—I was afraid she might look at me and sniff. It couldn’t have been her rank; we didn’t bother much with rank.

She was dressed in white coveralls and a shop apron and had simply thrown a hooded cape over herself to come through the snow. I said, “Good morning, ma’am,” and led her into Manning’s office.

The Colonel greeted her with the urbanity that had made him such a success with women’s clubs, seated her, and offered her a cigarette.

“I’m glad to see you, Major,” he said. “I’ve been intending to drop around to your shop.”

I knew what he was getting at; Dr. Karst’s work had been primarily physiomedical; he wanted her to change the direction of her research to something more productive in a military sense.

“Don’t call me ‘major,'” she said tartly.

“Sorry, Doctor—”

“I came on business, and must get right back. And I presume you are a busy man, too. Colonel Manning, I need some help.”

“That’s what we are here for.”

“Good. I’ve run into some snags in my research. I think that one of the men in Dr. Ridpath’s department could help me, but Dr. Ridpath doesn’t seem disposed to be cooperative.”

“So? Well, I hardly like to go over the head of a departmental chief, but tell me about it; perhaps we can arrange it. Whom do you want?”

“I need Dr. Obre.”

“The spectroscopist. Hm-m-m. I can understand Dr. Ridpath’s reluctance, Dr. Karst, and I’m disposed to agree with him. After all, the high-explosives research is really our main show around here.”

She bristled and I thought she was going to make him stay in after school at the very least. “Colonel Manning, do you realize the importance of artificial radioactives to modern medicine?”

“Why, I believe I do. Nevertheless, Doctor, our primary mission is to perfect a weapon which will serve as a safeguard to the whole country in time of war—”

She sniffed and went into action. “Weapons—fiddlesticks! Isn’t there a medical corps in the Army? Isn’t it more important to know how to heal men than to know how to blow them to bits? Colonel Manning, you’re not a fit man to have charge of this project! You’re a . . . you’re a, a warmonger, that’s what you are!”

I felt my ears turning red, but Manning never budged. He could have raised Cain with her, confined her to her quarters, maybe even have court-martialed her, but Manning isn’t like that. He told me once that every time a man is court-martialed, it is a sure sign that some senior officer hasn’t measured up to his job.

“I am sorry you feel that way, Doctor,” he said mildly, “and I agree that my technical knowledge isn’t what it might be. And, believe me, I do wish that healing were all we had to worry about. In any case, I have not refused your request. Let’s walk over to your laboratory and see what the problem is. Likely there is some arrangement that can be made which will satisfy everybody.”

He was already up and getting out his greatcoat. Her set mouth relaxed a trifle and she answered, “Very well. I’m sorry I spoke as I did.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “These are worrying times. Come along, John.”

I trailed after them, stopping in the outer office to get my own coat and to stuff my notebook in a pocket.

By the time we had trudged through mushy snow the eighth of a mile to her lab they were talking about gardening!

Manning acknowledged the sentry’s challenge with a wave of his hand and we entered the building. He started casually on into the inner lab, but Karst stopped him. “Armor first, Colonel.”

We had trouble finding overshoes that would fit over Manning’s boots, which he persisted in wearing, despite the new uniform regulations, and he wanted to omit the foot protection, but Karst would not hear of it. She called in a couple of her assistants who made jury-rigged moccasins out of some soft-lead sheeting.

The helmets were different from those used in the explosives lab, being fitted with inhalers. “What’s this?” inquired Manning.

“Radioactive dust guard,” she said. “It’s absolutely essential.”

We threaded a lead-lined meander and arrived at the workroom door which she opened by combination. I blinked at the sudden bright illumination and noticed the air was filled with little shiny motes.

“Hm-m-m—it is dusty,” agreed Manning. “Isn’t there some way of controlling that?” His voice sounded muffled from behind the dust mask.

“The last stage has to be exposed to air,” explained Karst. “The hood gets most of it. We could control it, but it would mean a quite expensive new installation.”

“No trouble about that. We’re not on a budget, you know. It must be very annoying to have to work in a mask like this.”

“It is,” acknowledged Karst. “The kind of gear it would take would enable us to work without body armor, too. That would be a comfort.”

I suddenly had a picture of the kind of thing these researchers put up with. I am a fair-sized man, yet I found that armor heavy to carry around. Estelle Karst was a small woman, yet she was willing to work maybe fourteen hours, day after day, in an outfit which was about as comfortable as a diving suit. But she had not complained.

Not all the heroes are in the headlines. These radiation experts not only ran the chance of cancer and nasty radioaction burns, but the men stood a chance of damaging their germ plasm and then having their wives present them with something horrid in the way of offspring—no chin, for example, and long hairy ears. Nevertheless, they went right ahead and never seemed to get irritated unless something held up their work.

Dr. Karst was past the age when she would be likely to be concerned personally about progeny, but the principle applies.

I wandered around, looking at the unlikely apparatus she used to get her results, fascinated as always by my failure to recognize much that reminded me of the physics laboratory I had known when I was an undergraduate, and being careful not to touch anything. Karst started explaining to Manning what she was doing and why, but I knew that it was useless for me to try to follow that technical stuff. If Manning wanted notes, he would dictate them. My attention was caught by a big boxlike contraption in one corner of the room. It had a hopperlike gadget on one side and I could hear a sound from it like the whirring of a fan with a background of running water. It intrigued me.

I moved back to the neighborhood of Dr. Karst and the Colonel and heard her saying, “The problem amounts to this, Colonel: I am getting a much more highly radioactive end product than I want, but there is considerable variation in the half-life of otherwise equivalent samples. That suggests to me that I am using a mixture of isotopes, but I haven’t been able to prove it. And frankly, I do not know enough about that end of the field to be sure of sufficient refinement in my methods. I need Dr. Obre’s help on that.”

I think those were her words, but I may not be doing her justice, not being a physicist. I understood the part about “half-life.” All radioactive materials keep right on radiating until they turn into something else, which takes theoretically forever. As a matter of practice their periods, or “lives,” are described in terms of how long it takes the original radiation to drop to one-half strength. That time is called a “half-life” and each radioactive isotope of an element has its own specific characteristic half-lifetime.

One of the staff—I forget which one—told me once that any form of matter can be considered as radioactive in some degree; it’s a question of intensity and period, or half-life.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Ridpath,” Manning answered her, “and see what can be arranged. In the meantime you might draw up plans for what you want to reequip your laboratory.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

I could see that Manning was about ready to leave, having pacified her; I was still curious about the big box that gave out the odd noises.

“May I ask what that is, Doctor?”

“Oh, that? That’s an air conditioner.”

“Odd-looking one. I’ve never seen one like it.”

“It’s not to condition the air of this room. It’s to remove the radioactive dust before the exhaust air goes outdoors. We wash the dust out of the foul air.”

“Where does the water go?”

“Down the drain. Out into the bay eventually, I suppose.”

I tried to snap my fingers, which was impossible because of the lead mittens. “That accounts for it, Colonel!”

“Accounts for what?”

“Accounts for those accusing notes we’ve been getting from the Bureau of Fisheries. This poisonous dust is being carried out into Chesapeake Bay and is killing the fish.”

Manning turned to Karst. “Do you think that possible, Doctor?”

I could see her brows draw together through the window in her helmet. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she admitted. “I’d have to do some figuring on the possible concentrations before I could give you a definite answer. But it is possible—yes. However,” she added anxiously, “it would be simple enough to divert this drain to a sink hole of some sort.”

“Hm-m-m—yes.” He did not say anything for some minutes, simply stood there, looking at the box.

Presently he said, “This dust is pretty lethal?”

“Quite lethal, Colonel.” There was another long silence.

At last I gathered he had made up his mind about something for he said decisively, “I am going to see to it that you get Obre’s assistance, Doctor—”

“Oh, good!”

“—but I want you to help me in return. I am very much interested in this research of yours, but I want it carried on with a little broader scope. I want you to investigate for maxima both in period and intensity as well as for minima. I want you to drop the strictly utilitarian approach and make an exhaustive research along lines which we will work out in greater detail later.”

She started to say something but he cut in ahead of her. “A really thorough program of research should prove more helpful in the long run to your original purpose than a more narrow one. And I shall make it my business to expedite every possible facility for such a research. I think we may turn up a number of interesting things.”

He left immediately, giving her no time to discuss it. He did not seem to want to talk on the way back and I held my peace. I think he had already gotten a glimmering of the bold and drastic strategy this was to lead to, but even Manning could not have thought out that early the inescapable consequences of a few dead fish—otherwise he would never have ordered the research.

No, I don’t really believe that. He would have gone right ahead, knowing that if he did not do it, someone else would. He would have accepted the responsibility while bitterly aware of its weight.* * *

1944 wore along with no great excitement on the surface. Karst got her new laboratory equipment and so much additional help that her department rapidly became the largest on the grounds. The explosives research was suspended after a conference between Manning and Ridpath, of which I heard only the end, but the meat of it was that there existed not even a remote possibility at that time of utilizing U235 as an explosive. As a source of power, yes, sometime in the distant future when there had been more opportunity to deal with the extremely ticklish problem of controlling the nuclear reaction. Even then it seemed likely that it would not be a source of power in prime movers such as rocket motors or mobiles, but would be used in vast power plants at least as large as the Boulder Dam installation.

After that Ridpath became a sort of co-chairman of Karst’s department and the equipment formerly used by the explosives department was adapted or replaced to carry on research on the deadly artificial radioactives. Manning arranged a division of labor and Karst stuck to her original problem of developing techniques for tailor-making radioactives. I think she was perfectly happy, sticking with a one-track mind to the problem at hand. I don’t know to this day whether or not Manning and Ridpath ever saw fit to discuss with her what they intended to do.

As a matter of fact, I was too busy myself to think much about it. The general elections were coming up and I was determined that Manning should have a constituency to return to, when the emergency was over. He was not much interested, but agreed to let his name be filed as a candidate for re-election. I was trying to work up a campaign by remote control and cursing because I could not be in the field to deal with the thousand and one emergencies as they arose.

I did the next best thing and had a private line installed to permit the campaign chairman to reach me easily. I don’t think I violated the Hatch Act, but I guess I stretched it a little. Anyhow, it turned out all right; Manning was elected as were several other members of the citizen-military that year. An attempt was made to smear him by claiming that he was taking two salaries for one job, but we squelched that with a pamphlet entitled “For Shame!” which explained that he got one salary for two jobs. That’s the Federal law in such cases and people are entitled to know it.* * *

It was just before Christmas that Manning first admitted to me how much the implications of the Karst-Obre process were preying on his mind. He called me into his office over some inconsequential matter, then did not let me go. I saw that he wanted to talk.

“How much of the K-O dust do we now have on hand?” he asked suddenly.

“Just short of ten thousand units,” I replied. “I can look up the exact figures in half a moment.” A unit would take care of a thousand men, at normal dispersion. He knew the figure as well as I did, and I knew he was stalling.

We had shifted almost imperceptibly from research to manufacture, entirely on Manning’s initiative and authority. Manning had never made a specific report to the Department about it, unless he had done so orally to the Chief of Staff.

“Never mind,” he answered to my suggestion, then added, “Did you see those horses?”

“Yes,” I said briefly.

I did not want to talk about it. I like horses. We had requisitioned six broken-down old nags, ready for the bone yard, and had used them experimentally. We knew now what the dust would do. After they had died, any part of their carcasses would register on a photographic plate and tissue from the apices of their lungs and from the bronchia glowed with a light of its own.

Manning stood at the window, staring out at the dreary Maryland winter for a minute or two before replying, “John, I wish that radioactivity had never been discovered. Do you realize what that devilish stuff amounts to?”

“Well,” I said, “it’s a weapon, about like poison gas—maybe more efficient.”

“Rats!” he said, and for a moment I thought he was annoyed with me personally. “That’s about like comparing a sixteen-inch gun with a bow and arrow. We’ve got here the first weapon the world has ever seen against which there is no defense, none whatsoever. It’s death itself, C.O.D.

“Have you seen Ridpath’s report?” he went on.

I had not. Ridpath had taken to delivering his reports by hand to Manning personally.

“Well,” he said, “ever since we started production I’ve had all the talent we could spare working on the problem of a defense against the dust. Ridpath tells me and I agree with him that there is no means whatsoever to combat the stuff, once it’s used.”

“How about armor,” I asked, “and protective clothing?

“Sure, sure,” he agreed irritatedly, “provided you never take it off to eat, or to drink or for any purpose whatever, until the radioaction has ceased, or you are out of the danger zone. That is all right for laboratory work; I’m talking about war.”

I considered the matter. “I still don’t see what you are fretting about, Colonel. If the stuff is as good as you say it is, you’ve done just exactly what you set out to do—develop a weapon which would give the United States protection against aggression.”

He swung around. “John, there are times when I think you are downright stupid!”

I said nothing. I knew him and I knew how to discount his moods. The fact that he permitted me to see his feelings is the finest compliment I have ever had.

“Look at it this way,” he went on more patiently; “this dust, as a weapon, is not just simply sufficient to safeguard the United States, it amounts to a loaded gun held at the head of every man, woman, and child on the globe!”

“Well,” I answered, “what of that? It’s our secret, and we’ve got the upper hand. The United States can put a stop to this war, and any other war. We can declare a Pax Americana, and enforce it.”

“Hm-m-m—I wish it were that easy. But it won’t remain our secret; you can count on that. It doesn’t matter how successfully we guard it; all that anyone needs is the hint given by the dust itself and then it is just a matter of time until some other nation develops a technique to produce it. You can’t stop brains from working, John; the reinvention of the method is a mathematical certainty, once they know what it is they are looking for. And uranium is a common enough substance, widely distributed over the globe—don’t forget that!

“It’s like this: Once the secret is out—and it will be out if we ever use the stuff!—the whole world will be comparable to a room full of men, each armed with a loaded .45. They can’t get out of the room and each one is dependent on the good will of every other one to stay alive. All offense and no defense. See what I mean?”

I thought about it, but I still didn’t guess at the difficulties. It seemed to me that a peace enforced by us was the only way out, with precautions taken to see that we controlled the sources of uranium. I had the usual American subconscious conviction that our country would never use power in sheer aggression. Later, I thought about the Mexican War and the Spanish-American War and some of the things we did in Central America, and I was not so sure—* * *

It was a couple of weeks later, shortly after inauguration day, that Manning told me to get the Chief of Staff’s office on the telephone. I heard only the tail end of the conversation. “No, General, I won’t,” Manning was saying. “I won’t discuss it with you, or the Secretary, either. This is a matter the Commander in Chief is going to have to decide in the long run. If he turns it down, it is imperative that no one else ever knows about it. That’s my considered opinion. . . . What’s that? . . . I took this job under the condition that I was to have a free hand. You’ve got to give me a little leeway this time. . . . Don’t go brass hat on me. I knew you when you were a plebe. . . . O.K., O.K., sorry. . . . If the Secretary of War won’t listen to reason, you tell him I’ll be in my seat in the House of Representatives tomorrow, and that I’ll get the favor I want from the majority leader. . . . All right. Good-bye.”

Washington rang up again about an hour later. It was the Secretary of War. This time Manning listened more than he talked. Toward the end, he said, “All I want is thirty minutes alone with the President. If nothing comes of it, no harm has been done. If I convince him, then you will know all about it. . . . No. sir, I did not mean that you would avoid responsibility. I intended to be helpful. . . . Fine! Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”

The White House rang up later in the day and set a time.* * *

We drove down to the District the next day through a nasty cold rain that threatened to turn to sleet. The usual congestion in Washington was made worse by the weather; it very nearly caused us to be late in arriving. I could hear Manning swearing under his breath all the way down Rhode Island Avenue. But we were dropped at the west wing entrance to the White House with two minutes to spare. Manning was ushered into the Oval Office almost at once and I was left cooling my heels and trying to get comfortable in civilian clothes. After so many months of uniform they itched in the wrong places.

The thirty minutes went by.

The President’s reception secretary went in, and came out very promptly indeed. He stepped on out into the outer reception room and I heard something that began with, “I’m sorry, Senator, but—” He came back in, made a penciled notation, and passed it out to an usher.

Two more hours went by.

Manning appeared at the door at last and the secretary looked relieved. But he did not come out, saying instead, “Come in, John. The President wants to take a look at you.”

I fell over my feet getting up.

Manning said, “Mr. President, this is Captain DeFries.” The President nodded, and I bowed, unable to say anything. He was standing on the hearth rug, his fine head turned toward us, and looking just like his pictures—but it seemed strange for the President of the United States not to be a tall man.

I had never seen him before, though, of course, I knew something of his record the two years he had been in the Senate and while he was Mayor before that.

The President said, “Sit down, DeFries. Care to smoke?” Then to Manning, “You think he can do it?”

“I think he’ll have to. It’s Hobson’s choice.”

“And you are sure of him?”

“He was my campaign manager.”

“I see.”

The President said nothing more for a while and God knows I didn’t!—though I was bursting to know what they were talking about. He commenced again with, “Colonel Manning, I intend to follow the procedure you have suggested, with the changes we discussed. But I will be down tomorrow to see for myself that the dust will do what you say it will. Can you prepare a demonstration?”

“Yes, Mr. President,”

“Very well, we will use Captain DeFries unless I think of a better procedure.” I thought for a moment that they planned to use me for a guinea pig! But he turned to me and continued, “Captain, I expect to send you to England as my representative.”

I gulped. “Yes, Mr. President.” And that is every word I had to say in calling on the President of the United States.* * *

After that, Manning had to tell me a lot of things he had on his mind. I am going to try to relate them as carefully as possible, even at the risk of being dull and obvious and of repeating things that are common knowledge.

We had a weapon that could not be stopped. Any type of K-O dust scattered over an area rendered that area uninhabitable for a length of time that depended on the half-life of the radioactivity.

Period. Full stop.

Once an area was dusted there was nothing that could be done about it until the radioactivity had fallen off to the point where it was no longer harmful. The dust could not be cleaned out; it was everywhere. There was no possible way to counteract it—burn it, combine it chemically; the radioactive isotope was still there, still radioactive, still deadly. Once used on a stretch of land, for a predetermined length of time that piece of earth would not tolerate life. 

It was extremely simple to use. No complicated bomb-sights were needed, no care need be taken to hit “military objectives.” Take it aloft in any sort of aircraft, attain a position more or less over the area you wish to sterilize, and drop the stuff. Those on the ground in the contaminated area are dead men, dead in an hour, a day, a week, a month, depending on the degree of the infection—but dead. 

Manning told me that he had once seriously considered, in the middle of the night, recommending that every single person, including himself, who knew the Karst-Obre technique be put to death, in the interests of all civilization. But he had realized the next day that it had been sheer funk; the technique was certain in time to be rediscovered by someone else.

Furthermore, it would not do to wait, to refrain from using the grisly power, until someone else perfected it and used it. The only possible chance to keep the world from being turned into one huge morgue was for us to use the power first and drastically—get the upper hand and keep it.

We were not at war, legally, yet we had been in the war up to our necks with our weight on the side of democracy since 1940. Manning had proposed to the President that we turn a supply of the dust over to Great Britain, under conditions we specified, and enable them thereby to force a peace. But the terms of the peace would be dictated by the United States—for we were not turning over the secret.

After that, the Pax Americana. 

The United States was having power thrust on it, willy-nilly. We had to accept it and enforce a worldwide peace, ruthlessly and drastically, or it would be seized by some other nation. There could not be co-equals in the possession of this weapon. The factor of time predominated.

I was selected to handle the details in England because Manning insisted, and the President agreed with him, that every person technically acquainted with the Karst-Obre process should remain on the laboratory reservation in what amounted to protective custody—imprisonment. That included Manning himself. I could go because I did not have the secret—I could not even have acquired it without years of schooling—and what I did not know I could not tell, even under, well, drugs. We were determined to keep the secret as long as we could to consolidate the Pax;we did not distrust our English cousins, but they were Britishers, with a first loyalty to the British Empire. No need to tempt them.

I was picked because I understood the background if not the science, and because Manning trusted me. I don’t know why the President trusted me, too, but then my job was not complicated.* * *

We took off from the new field outside Baltimore on a cold, raw afternoon which matched my own feelings. I had an all-gone feeling in my stomach, a runny nose, and, buttoned inside my clothes, papers appointing me a special agent of the President of the United States. They were odd papers, papers without precedent; they did not simply give me the usual diplomatic immunity; they made my person very nearly as sacred as that of the President himself.

At Nova Scotia we touched ground to refuel, the F.B.I, men left us, we took off again, and the Canadian transfighters took their stations around us. All the dust we were sending was in my plane; if the President’s representative were shot down, the dust would go to the bottom with him.

No need to tell of the crossing. I was airsick and miserable, in spite of the steadiness of the new six-engined jobs. I felt like a hangman on the way to an execution, and wished to God that I were a boy again, with nothing more momentous than a debate contest, or a track meet, to worry me.

There was some fighting around us as we neared Scotland, I know, but I could not see it, the cabin being shuttered. Our pilot-captain ignored it and brought his ship down on a totally dark field, using a beam, I suppose, though I did not know nor care. I would have welcomed a crash. Then the lights outside went on and I saw that we had come to rest in an underground hangar.

I stayed in the ship. The Commandant came to see me to his quarters as his guest. I shook my head. “I stay here,” I said. “Orders. You are to treat this ship as United States soil, you know.”

He seemed miffed, but compromised by having dinner served for both of us in my ship.

There was a really embarrassing situation the next day. I was commanded to appear for a Royal audience. But I had my instructions and I stuck to them. I was sitting on that cargo of dust until the President told me what to do with it. Late in the day I was called on by a member of Parliament—nobody admitted out loud that it was the Prime Minister—and a Mr. Windsor. The M.P. did most of the talking and I answered his questions. My other guest said very little and spoke slowly with some difficulty. But I got a very favorable impression of him. He seemed to be a man who was carrying a load beyond human strength and carrying it heroically.* * *

There followed the longest period in my life. It was actually only a little longer than a week, but every minute of it had that split-second intensity of imminent disaster that comes just before a car crash. The President was using the time to try to avert the need to use the dust. He had two face-to-face television conferences with the new Fuehrer. The President spoke German fluently, which should have helped. He spoke three times to the warring peoples themselves, but it is doubtful if very many on the Continent were able to listen, the police regulations there being what they were.

The Ambassador from the Reich was given a special demonstration of the effect of the dust. He was flown out over a deserted stretch of Western prairie and allowed to see what a single dusting would do to a herd of steers. It should have impressed him and I think that it did—nobody could ignore a visual demonstration!—but what report he made to his leader we never knew.

The British Isles were visited repeatedly during the wait by bombing attacks as heavy as any of the war. I was safe enough but I heard about them, and I could see the effect on the morale of the officers with whom I associated. Not that it frightened them—it made them coldly angry. The raids were not directed primarily at dockyards or factories, but were ruthless destruction of anything, particularly villages.

“I don’t see what you chaps are waiting for,” a flight commander complained to me. “What the Jerries need is a dose of their own shrecklichkeit, a lesson in their own Aryan culture.”

I shook my head. “We’ll have to do it our own way.”

He dropped the matter, but I knew how he and his brother officers felt. They had a standing toast, as sacred as the toast to the King: “Remember Coventry!”

Our President had stipulated that the R.A.F. was not to bomb during the period of negotiation, but their bombers were busy nevertheless. The continent was showered, night after night, with bales of leaflets, prepared by our own propaganda agents. The first of these called on the people of the Reich to stop a useless war and promised that the terms of peace would not be vindictive. The second rain of pamphlets showed photographs of that herd of steers. The third was a simple direct warning to get out of cities and to stay out.

As Manning put it, we were calling “Halt!” three times before firing. I do not think that he or the President expected it to work, but we were morally obligated to try.

The Britishers had installed for me a televisor, of the Simonds-Yarley nonintercept type, the sort whereby the receiver must “trigger” the transmitter in order for the transmission to take place at all. It made assurance of privacy in diplomatic rapid communication for the first time in history, and was a real help in the crisis. I had brought along my own technician, one of the F.B.I.’s new corps of specialists, to handle the scrambler and the trigger.

He called to me one afternoon. “Washington signaling.”

I climbed tiredly out of the cabin and down to the booth on the hangar floor, wondering if it were another false alarm.

It was the President. His lips were white. “Carry out your basic instructions, Mr. DeFries.”

“Yes, Mr. President!”* * *

The details had been worked out in advance and, once I had accepted a receipt and token payment from the Commandant for the dust, my duties were finished. But, at our instance, the British had invited military observers from every independent nation and from the several provisional governments of occupied nations. The United States Ambassador designated me as one at the request of Manning.

Our task group was thirteen bombers. One such bomber could have carried all the dust needed, but it was split up to insure most of it, at least, reaching its destination. I had fetched forty percent more dust than Ridpath calculated would be needed for the mission and my last job was to see to it that every canister actually went on board a plane of the flight. The extremely small weight of dust used was emphasized to each of the military observers.

We took off just at dark, climbed to twenty-five thousand feet, refueled in the air, and climbed again. Our escort was waiting for us, having refueled thirty minutes before us. The flight split into thirteen groups, and cut the thin air for middle Europe. The bombers we rode had been stripped and hiked up to permit the utmost maximum of speed and altitude.

Elsewhere in England, other flights had taken off shortly before us to act as a diversion. Their destinations were every part of Germany; it was the intention to create such confusion in the air above the Reich that our few planes actually engaged in the serious work might well escape attention entirely, flying so high in the stratosphere.

The thirteen dust carriers approached Berlin from different directions, planning to cross Berlin as if following the spokes of a wheel. The night was appreciably clear and we had a low moon to help us. Berlin is not a hard city to locate, since it has the largest square-mile area of any modern city and is located on a broad flat alluvial plain. I could make out the River Spree as we approached it, and the Havel. The city was blacked out, but a city makes a different sort of black from open country. Parachute flares hung over the city in many places, showing that the R.A.F. had been busy before we got there and the A.A. batteries on the ground helped to pick out the city.

There was fighting below us, but not within fifteen thousand feet of our altitude as nearly as I could judge.

The pilot reported to the captain, “On line of bearing!” The chap working the absolute altimeter steadily fed his data into the fuse pots of the canister. The canisters were equipped with a light charge of black powder, sufficient to explode them and scatter the dust at a time after release predetermined by the fuse pot setting. The method used was no more than an efficient expedient. The dust would have been almost as effective had it simply been dumped out in paper bags, although not as well distributed.

The Captain hung over the navigator’s board, a slight frown on his thin sallow face. “Ready one!” reported the bomber.

“Release!”

“Ready two!”

The Captain studied his wristwatch. “Release!”

“Ready three!”

“Release!”

When the last of our ten little packages was out of the ship we turned tail and ran for home.* * *

No arrangements had been made for me to get home; nobody had thought about it. But it was the one thing I wanted to do. I did not feel badly; I did not feel much of anything. I felt like a man who has at last screwed up his courage and undergone a serious operation; it’s over now, he is still numb from shock but his mind is relaxed. But I wanted to go home.

The British Commandant was quite decent about it; he serviced and manned my ship at once and gave me an escort for the offshore war zone. It was an expensive way to send one man home, but who cared? We had just expended some millions of lives in a desperate attempt to end the war; what was a money expense? He gave the necessary orders absentmindedly.

I took a double dose of nembutal and woke up in Canada. I tried to get some news while the plane was being serviced, but there was not much to be had. The government of the Reich had issued one official news bulletin shortly after the raid, sneering at the much vaunted “secret weapon” of the British and stating that a major air attack had been made on Berlin and several other cities, but that the raiders had been driven off with only minor damage. The current Lord Haw-Haw started one of his sarcastic speeches but was unable to continue it. The announcer said that he had been seized with a heart attack, and substituted some recordings of patriotic music. The station cut off in the middle of the “Horst Wessel” song. After that there was silence.

I managed to promote an Army car and a driver at the Baltimore field which made short work of the Annapolis speedway. We almost overran the turnoff to the laboratory.

Manning was in his office. He looked up as I came in, said, “Hello, John,” in a dispirited voice, and dropped his eyes again to the blotter pad. He went back to drawing doodles.

I looked him over and realized for the first time that the chief was an old man. His face was gray and flabby, deep furrows framed his mouth in a triangle. His clothes did not fit.

I went up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, chief. It’s not your fault. We gave them all the warning in the world.”

He looked up again. “Estelle Karst suicided this morning.”

Anybody could have anticipated it, but nobody did. And somehow I felt harder hit by her death than by the death of all those strangers in Berlin. “How did she do it?” I asked.

“Dust. She went into the canning room, and took off her armor.”

I could picture her—head held high, eyes snapping, and that set look on her mouth which she got when people did something she disapproved of. One little old woman whose lifetime work had been turned against her.

“I wish,” Manning added slowly, “that I could explain to her why we had to do it.”

We buried her in a lead-lined coffin, then Manning and I went on to Washington.* * *

While we were there, we saw the motion pictures that had been made of the death of Berlin. You have not seen them; they never were made public, but they were of great use in convincing the other nations of the world that peace was a good idea. I saw them when Congress did, being allowed in because I was Manning’s assistant.

They had been made by a pair of R.A.F. pilots, who had dodged the Luftwaffe to get them. The first shots showed some of the main streets the morning after the raid. There was not much to see that would show up in telephoto shots, just busy and crowded streets, but if you looked closely you could see that there had been an excessive number of automobile accidents.

The second day showed the attempt to evacuate. The inner squares of the city were practically deserted save for bodies and wrecked cars, but the streets leading out of town were boiling with people, mostly on foot, for the trams were out of service. The pitiful creatures were fleeing, not knowing that death was already lodged inside them. The plane swooped down at one point and the cinematographer had his telephoto lens pointed directly into the face of a young woman for several seconds. She stared back at it with a look too woebegone to forget, then stumbled and fell.

She may have been trampled. I hope so. One of those six horses had looked like that when the stuff was beginning to hit his vitals.

The last sequence showed Berlin and the roads around it a week after the raid. The city was dead; there was not a man, a woman, a child—nor cats, nor dogs, not even a pigeon. Bodies were all around, but they were safe from rats. There were no rats.

The roads around Berlin were quiet now. Scattered carelessly on shoulders and in ditches, and to a lesser extent on the pavement itself, like coal shaken off a train, were the quiet heaps that had been the citizens of the capital of the Reich. There is no use in talking about it.

But, so far as I am concerned, I left what soul I had in that projection room and I have not had one since.

The two pilots who made the pictures eventually died—systemic, cumulative infection, dust in the air over Berlin. With precautions it need not have happened, but the English did not believe, as yet, that our extreme precautions were necessary.* * *

The Reich took about a week to fold up. It might have taken longer if the new Fuehrer had not gone to Berlin the day after the raid to “prove” that the British boasts had been hollow. There is no need to recount the provisional governments that Germany had in the following several months; the only one we are concerned with is the so-called restored monarchy which used a cousin of the old Kaiser as a symbol, the one that sued for peace.

Then the trouble started.

When the Prime Minister announced the terms of the private agreement he had had with our President, he was met with a silence that was broken only by cries of “Shame! Shame! Resign!” I suppose it was inevitable; the Commons reflected the spirit of a people who had been unmercifully punished for four years. They were in a mood to enforce a peace that would have made the Versailles Treaty look like the Beatitudes.

The vote of no confidence left the Prime Minister no choice. Forty-eight hours later the King made a speech from the throne that violated all constitutional precedent, for it had not been written by a Prime Minister. In this greatest crisis in his reign, his voice was clear and unlabored; it sold the idea to England and a national coalition government was formed.

I don’t know whether we would have dusted London to enforce our terms or not; Manning thinks we would have done so. I suppose it depended on the character of the President of the United States, and there is no way of knowing about that since we did not have to do it.

The United States, and in particular the President of the United States, was confronted by two inescapable problems. First, we had to consolidate our position at once, use our temporary advantage of an overwhelmingly powerful weapon to insure that such a weapon would not be turned on us. Second, some means had to be worked out to stabilize American foreign policy so that it could handle the tremendous power we had suddenly had thrust upon us.

The second was by far the most difficult and serious. If we were to establish a reasonably permanent peace—say a century or so—through a monopoly on a weapon so powerful that no one dare fight us, it was imperative that the policy under which we acted be more lasting than passing political administrations. But more of that later—

The first problem had to be attended to at once—time was the heart of it. The emergency lay in the very simplicity of the weapon. It required nothing but aircraft to scatter it and the dust itself, which was easily and quickly made by anyone possessing the secret of the Karst-Obre process and having access to a small supply of uranium-bearing ore.

But the Karst-Obre process was simple and might be independently developed at any time. Manning reported to the President that it was Ridpath’s opinion, concurred in by Manning, that the staff of any modern radiation laboratory should be able to work out an equivalent technique in six weeks, working from the hint given by the events in Berlin alone, and should then be able to produce enough dust to cause major destruction in another six weeks.

Ninety days—ninety days provided they started from scratch and were not already halfway to their goal. Less than ninety days—perhaps no time at all—

By this time Manning was an unofficial member of the Cabinet; “Secretary of Dust,” the President called him in one of his rare jovial moods. As for me, well, I attended Cabinet meetings, too. As the only layman who had seen the whole show from beginning to end, the President wanted me there.

I am an ordinary sort of man who, by a concatenation of improbabilities, found himself shoved into the councils of the rulers. But I found that the rulers were ordinary men, too, and frequently as bewildered as I was.

But Manning was no ordinary man. In him ordinary hard sense had been raised to the level of genius. Oh, yes, I know that it is popular to blame everything on him and to call him everything from traitor to mad dog, but I still think he was both wise and benevolent. I don’t care how many second-guessing historians disagree with me.

“I propose,” said Manning, “that we begin by immobilizing all aircraft throughout the world.”

The Secretary of Commerce raised his brows. “Aren’t you,” he said, “being a little fantastic, Colonel Manning?”

“No, I’m not,” answered Manning shortly. “I’m being realistic. The key to this problem is aircraft. Without aircraft the dust is an inefficient weapon. The only way I see to gain time enough to deal with the whole problem is to ground all aircraft and put them out of operation. All aircraft, that is, not actually in the service of the United States Army. After that we can deal with complete world disarmament and permanent methods of control.”

“Really now,” replied the Secretary, “you are not proposing that commercial airlines be put out of operation. They are an essential part of world economy. It would be an intolerable nuisance.”

“Getting killed is an intolerable nuisance, too,” Manning answered stubbornly. “I do propose just that. All aircraft. All.

The President had been listening without comment to the discussion. He now cut in. “How about aircraft on which some groups depend to stay alive, Colonel, such as the Alaskan lines?”

“If there are such, they must be operated by American Army pilots and crews. No exceptions.”

The Secretary of Commerce looked startled. “Am I to infer from that last remark that you intended this prohibition to apply to the United States as well as other nations?”

“Naturally.”

“But that’s impossible. It’s unconstitutional. It violates civil rights.”

“Killing a man violates his civil rights, too,” Manning answered stubbornly.

“You can’t do it. Any Federal Court in the country would enjoin you in five minutes.”

“It seems to me,” said Manning slowly, “that Andy Jackson gave us a good precedent for that one when he told John Marshall to go fly a kite.” He looked slowly around the table at faces that ranged from undecided to antagonistic. “The issue is sharp, gentlemen, and we might as well drag it out in the open. We can be dead men, with everything in due order, constitutional, and technically correct; or we can do what has to be done, stay alive, and try to straighten out the legal aspects later.” He shut up and waited.

The Secretary of Labor picked it up. “I don’t think the Colonel has any corner on realism. I think I see the problem, too, and I admit it is a serious one. The dust must never be used again. Had I known about it soon enough, it would never have been used on Berlin. And I agree that some sort of worldwide control is necessary. But where I differ with the Colonel is in the method. What he proposes is a military dictatorship imposed by force on the whole world. Admit it, Colonel. Isn’t that what you are proposing?”

Manning did not dodge it. “That is what I am proposing.”

“Thanks. Now we know where we stand. I, for one, do not regard democratic measures and constitutional procedure as of so little importance that I am willing to jettison them any time it becomes convenient. To me, democracy is more than a matter of expediency, it is a faith. Either it works, or I go under with it.”

“What do you propose?” asked the President.

“I propose that we treat this as an opportunity to create a worldwide democratic commonwealth! Let us use our present dominant position to issue a call to all nations to send representatives to a conference to form a world constitution.”

“League of Nations,” I heard someone mutter.

“No!” he answered the side remark. “Not a League of Nations. The old League was helpless because it had no real existence, no power. It was not implemented to enforce its decisions; it was just a debating society, a sham. This would be different for we would turn over the dust to it!

Nobody spoke for some minutes. You could see them turning it over in their minds, doubtful, partially approving, intrigued but dubious.

“I’d like to answer that,” said Manning.

“Go ahead,” said the President.

“I will. I’m going to have to use some pretty plain language and I hope that Secretary Larner will do me the honor of believing that I speak so from sincerity and deep concern and not from personal pique.

“I think a world democracy would be a very fine thing and I ask that you believe me when I say I would willingly lay down my life to accomplish it. I also think it would be a very fine thing for the lion to lie down with the lamb, but I am reasonably certain that only the lion would get up. If we try to form an actual world democracy, we’ll be the lamb in the setup.

“There are a lot of good, kindly people who are internationalists these days. Nine out of ten of them are soft in the head and the tenth is ignorant. If we set up a worldwide democracy, what will the electorate be? Take a look at the facts: Four hundred million Chinese with no more concept of voting and citizen responsibility than a flea; three hundred million Hindus who aren’t much better indoctrinated; God knows how many in the Eurasian Union who believe in God knows what; the entire continent of Africa only semicivilized; eighty million Japanese who really believe that they are Heaven-ordained to rule; our Spanish-American friends who might trail along with us and might not, but who don’t understand the Bill of Rights the way we think of it; a quarter of a billion people of two dozen different nationalities in Europe, all with revenge and black hatred in their hearts.

“No, it won’t wash. It’s preposterous to talk about a world democracy for many years to come. If you turn the secret of the dust over to such a body, you will be arming the whole world to commit suicide.”

Larner answered at once. “I could resent some of your remarks, but I won’t. To put it bluntly, I consider the source. The trouble with you, Colonel Manning, is that you are a professional soldier and have no faith in people. Soldiers may be necessary, but the worst of them are martinets and the best are merely paternalistic.” There was quite a lot more of the same.

Manning stood it until his turn came again. “Maybe I am all those things, but you haven’t met my argument. What are you going to do about the hundreds of millions of people who have no experience in, nor love for, democracy? Now, perhaps, I don’t have the same concept of democracy as yourself, but I do know this: Out West there are a couple of hundred thousand people who sent me to Congress; I am not going to stand quietly by and let a course be followed which I think will result in their deaths or utter ruin.

“Here is the probable future, as I see it, potential in the smashing of the atom and the development of lethal artificial radioactives. Some power makes a supply of the dust. They’ll hit us first to try to knock us out and give them a free hand. New York and Washington overnight, then all of our industrial areas while we are still politically and economically disorganized. But our army would not be in those cities; we would have planes and a supply of dust somewhere where the first dusting wouldn’t touch them. Our boys would bravely and righteously proceed to poison their big cities. Back and forth it would go until the organization of each country had broken down so completely that they were no longer able to maintain a sufficiently high level of industrialization to service planes and manufacture dust. That presupposes starvation and plague in the process. You can fill in the details.

“The other nations would get in the game. It would be silly and suicidal, of course, but it doesn’t take brains to take a hand in this. All it takes is a very small group, hungry for power, a few airplanes and a supply of dust. It’s a vicious circle that cannot possibly bestopped until the entire planet has dropped to a level of economy too low to support the techniques necessary to maintain it. My best guess is that such a point would be reached when approximately three-quarters of the world’s population were dead of dust, disease, or hunger, and culture reduced to the peasant-and-village type.

“Where is your Constitution and your Bill of Rights if you let that happen?”

I’ve shortened it down, but that was the gist of it. I can’t hope to record every word of an argument that went on for days.

The Secretary of the Navy took a crack at him next. “Aren’t you getting a bit hysterical, Colonel? After all, the world has seen a lot of weapons which were going to make war an impossibility too horrible to contemplate. Poison gas, and tanks, and airplanes—even firearms, if I remember my history.”

Manning smiled wryly. “You’ve made a point, Mr. Secretary. ‘And when the wolf really came, the little boy shouted in vain.’ I imagine the Chamber of Commerce in Pompeii presented the same reasonable argument to any early vulcanologist so timid as to fear Vesuvius. I’ll try to justify my fears. The dust differs from every earlier weapon in its deadliness and ease of use, but most importantly in that we have developed no defense against it. For a number of fairly technical reasons, I don’t think we ever will, at least not this century.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is no way to counteract radioactivity short of putting a lead shield between yourself and it, an airtight lead shield. People might survive by living in sealed underground cities, but our characteristic American culture could not be maintained.”

“Colonel Manning,” suggested the Secretary of State, “I think you have overlooked the obvious alternative.”

“Have I?”

“Yes—to keep the dust as our own secret, go our own way, and let the rest of the world look out for itself. That is the only program that fits our traditions.” The Secretary of State was really a fine old gentleman, and not stupid, but he was slow to assimilate new ideas.

“Mr. Secretary,” said Manning respectfully, “I wish we could afford to mind our own business. I do wish we could. But it is the best opinion of all the experts that we can’t maintain control of this secret except by rigid policing. The Germans were close on our heels in nuclear research; it was sheer luck that we got there first. I ask you to imagine Germany a year hence—with a supply of dust.”

The Secretary did not answer, but I saw his lips form the word Berlin.

They came around. The President had deliberately let Manning bear the brunt of the argument, conserving his own stock of goodwill to coax the obdurate. He decided against putting it up to Congress; the dusters would have been overhead before each senator had finished his say. What he intended to do might be unconstitutional, but if he failed to act there might not be any Constitution shortly. There was precedent—the Emancipation Proclamation, the Monroe Doctrine, the Louisiana Purchase, suspension of habeas corpus in the War between the States, the Destroyer Deal.

On February 22nd the President declared a state of full emergency internally and sent his Peace Proclamation to the head of every sovereign state. Divested of its diplomatic surplusage, it said: The United States is prepared to defeat any power, or combination of powers, in jig time. Accordingly, we are outlawing war and are calling on every nation to disarm completely at once. In other words, Throw down your guns, boys; we’ve got the drop on you!

A supplement set forth the procedure: All aircraft capable of flying the Atlantic were to be delivered in one week’s time to a field, or rather a great stretch of prairie, just west of Fort Riley, Kansas. For lesser aircraft, a spot near Shanghai and a rendezvous in Wales were designated. Memoranda would be issued later with respect to other war equipment. Uranium and its ores were not mentioned; that would come later.

No excuses. Failure to disarm would be construed as an act of war against the United States.* * *

There were no cases of apoplexy in the Senate; why not, I don’t know.

There were only three powers to be seriously worried about, England, Japan, and the Eurasian Union. England had been forewarned, we had pulled her out of a war she was losing, and she—or rather her men in power—knew accurately what we could and would do.

Japan was another matter. They had not seen Berlin and they did not really believe it. Besides, they had been telling each other for so many years that they were unbeatable, they believed it. It does not do to get too tough with a Japanese too quickly, for they will die rather than lose face. The negotiations were conducted very quietly indeed, but our fleet was halfway from Pearl Harbor to Kobe, loaded with enough dust to sterilize their six biggest cities, before they were concluded. Do you know what did it? This never hit the newspapers but it was the wording of the pamphlets we proposed to scatter before dusting.

The Emperor was pleased to declare a New Order of Peace. The official version, built up for home consumption, made the whole matter one of collaboration between two great and friendly powers, with Japan taking the initiative.

The Eurasian Union was a puzzle. After Stalin’s unexpected death in 1941, no western nation knew very much about what went on in there. Our own diplomatic relations had atrophied through failure to replace men called home nearly four years before. Everybody knew, of course, that the new group in power called themselves Fifth Internationalists, but what that meant, aside from ceasing to display the pictures of Lenin and Stalin, nobody knew.

But they agreed to our terms and offered to cooperate in every way. They pointed out that the Union had never been warlike and had kept out of the recent world struggle. It was fitting that the two remaining great powers should use their greatness to insure a lasting peace.

I was delighted; I had been worried about the E.U.

They commenced delivery of some of their smaller planes to the receiving station near Shanghai at once. The reports on the number and quality of the planes seemed to indicate that they had stayed out of the war through necessity; the planes were mostly of German make and in poor condition, types that Germany had abandoned early in the war.

Manning went west to supervise certain details in connection with immobilizing the big planes, the transoceanic planes, which were to gather near Fort Riley. We planned to spray them with oil, then dust from a low altitude, as in crop dusting, with a low concentration of one-year dust. Then we could turn our backs on them and forget them, while attending to other matters.

But there were hazards. The dust must not be allowed to reach Kansas City, Lincoln, Wichita—any of the nearby cities. The smaller towns roundabout had been temporarily evacuated. Testing stations needed to be set up in all directions in order that accurate tab on the dust might be kept. Manning felt personally responsible to make sure that no bystander was poisoned.

We circled the receiving station before landing at Fort Riley. I could pick out the three landing fields which had hurriedly been graded. Their runways were white in the sun, the twenty-four-hour cement as yet undirtied. Around each of the landing fields were crowded dozens of parking fields, less perfectly graded. Tractors and bulldozers were still at work on some of them. In the easternmost fields, the German and British ships were already in place, jammed wing to body as tightly as planes on the flight deck of a carrier—save for a few that were still being towed into position, the tiny tractors looking from the air like ants dragging pieces of leaf many times larger than themselves.

Only three flying fortresses had arrived from the Eurasian Union. Their representatives had asked for a short delay in order that a supply of high-test aviation gasoline might be delivered to them. They claimed a shortage of fuel necessary to make the long flight over the Arctic safe. There was no way to check the claim and the delay was granted while a shipment was routed from England.

We were about to leave, Manning having satisfied himself as to safety precautions, when a dispatch came in announcing that a flight of E.U. bombers might be expected before the day was out. Manning wanted to see them arrive; we waited around for four hours. When it was finally reported that our escort of fighters had picked them up at the Canadian border, Manning appeared to have grown fidgety and stated that he would watch them from the air. We took off, gained altitude and waited.

There were nine of them in the flight, cruising in column of echelons and looking so huge that our little fighters were hardly noticeable. They circled the field and I was admiring the stately dignity of them when Manning’s pilot, Lieutenant Rafferty, exclaimed, “What the devil! They are preparing to land downwind!”

I still did not tumble, but Manning shouted to the copilot, “Get the field!”

He fiddled with his instruments and announced, “Got ’em, sir!”

“General alarm! Armor!”

We could not hear the sirens, naturally, but I could see the white plumes rise from the big steam whistle on the roof of the Administration Building—three long blasts, then three short ones. It seemed almost at the same time that the first cloud broke from the E.U. planes.

Instead of landing, they passed low over the receiving station, jampacked now with ships from all over the world. Each echelon picked one of three groups centered around the three landing fields and streamers of heavy brown smoke poured from the bellies of the E.U. ships. I saw a tiny black figure jump from a tractor and run toward the nearest building. Then the smoke screen obscured the field.

“Do you still have the field?” demanded Manning.

“Yes, sir.”

“Cross connect to the chief safety technician. Hurry!”

The copilot cut in the amplifier so that Manning could talk directly. “Saunders? This is Manning. How about it?”

“Radioactive, chief. Intensity seven point four.”

They had paralleled the Karst-Obre research.

Manning cut him off and demanded that the communication office at the field raise the Chief of Staff. There was nerve-stretching delay, for it had to be routed over land wire to Kansas City, and some chief operator had to be convinced that she should commandeer a trunk line that was in commercial use. But we got through at last and Manning made his report. “It stands to reason,” I heard him say, “that other flights are approaching the border by this time. New York, of course, and Washington. Probably Detroit and Chicago as well. No way of knowing.”

The Chief of Staff cut off abruptly, without comment. I knew that the U.S. air fleets, in a state of alert for weeks past, would have their orders in a few seconds, and would be on their way to hunt out and down the attackers, if possible before they could reach the cities.

I glanced back at the field. The formations were broken up. One of the E.U. bombers was down, crashed, half a mile beyond the station. While I watched, one of our midget dive bombers screamed down on a behemoth E.U. ship and unloaded his eggs. It was a center hit, but the American pilot had cut it too fine, could not pull out, and crashed before his victim.* * *

There is no point in rehashing the newspaper stories of the Four-Days War. The point is that we should have lost it, and we would have, had it not been for an unlikely combination of luck, foresight, and good management. Apparently, the nuclear physicists of the Eurasian Union were almost as far along as Ridpath’s crew when the destruction of Berlin gave them the tip they needed. But we had rushed them, forced them to move before they were ready, because of the deadline for disarmament set forth in our Peace Proclamation.

If the President had waited to fight it out with Congress before issuing the proclamation, there would not be any United States.

Manning never got credit for it, but it is evident to me that he anticipated the possibility of something like the Four-Days War and prepared for it in a dozen different devious ways. I don’t mean military preparation; the Army and the Navy saw to that. But it was no accident that Congress was adjourned at the time. I had something to do with the vote-swapping and compromising that led up to it, and I know.

But I put it to you—would he have maneuvered to get Congress out of Washington at a time when he feared that Washington might be attacked if he had had dictatorial ambitions?

Of course, it was the President who was back of the ten-day leaves that had been granted to most of the civil-service personnel in Washington and he himself must have made the decision to take a swing through the South at that time, but it must have been Manning who put the idea in his head. It is inconceivable that the President would have left Washington to escape personal danger.

And then, there was the plague scare. I don’t know how or when Manning could have started that—it certainly did not go through my notebook—but I simply do not believe that it was accidental that a completely unfounded rumor of bubonic plague caused New York City to be semideserted at the time the E.U. bombers struck.

At that, we lost over eight hundred thousand people in Manhattan alone.

Of course, the government was blamed for the lives that were lost and the papers were merciless in their criticism at the failure to anticipate and force an evacuation of all the major cities.

If Manning anticipated trouble, why did he not ask for evacuation?

Well, as I see it, for this reason:

A big city will not be, never has been, evacuated in response to rational argument. London never was evacuated on any major scale and we failed utterly in our attempt to force the evacuation of Berlin. The people of New York City had considered the danger of air raids since 1940 and were long since hardened to the thought.

But the fear of a nonexistent epidemic of plague caused the most nearly complete evacuation of a major city ever seen.

And don’t forget what we did to Vladivostok and Irkutsk and Moscow—those were innocent people, too. War isn’t pretty.

I said luck played a part. It was bad navigation that caused one of our ships to dust Ryazan instead of Moscow, but that mistake knocked out the laboratory and plant which produced the only supply of military radioactives in the Eurasian Union. Suppose the mistake had been the other way around—suppose that one of the E.U. ships in attacking Washington, D.C., by mistake had included Ridpath’s shop forty-five miles away in Maryland?

Congress reconvened at the temporary capital in St. Louis, and the American Pacification Expedition started the job of pulling the fangs of the Eurasian Union. It was not a military occupation in the usual sense; there were two simple objectives: to search out and dust all aircraft, aircraft plants, and fields, and to locate and dust radiation laboratories, uranium supplies, and lodes of carnotite and pitchblende. No attempt was made to interfere with, or to replace, civil government.

We used a two-year dust, which gave a breathing spell in which to consolidate our position. Liberal rewards were offered to informers, a technique which worked remarkably well not only in the E.U., but in most parts of the world.

The “weasel,” an instrument to smell out radiation, based on the electroscope-discharge principle and refined by Ridpath’s staff, greatly facilitated the work of locating uranium and uranium ores. A grid of weasels, properly spaced over a suspect area, could locate any important mass of uranium almost as handily as a direction-finder can spot a radio station.

But, notwithstanding the excellent work of General Bulfinch and the Pacification Expedition as a whole, it was the original mistake of dusting Ryazan that made the job possible of accomplishment.

Anyone interested in the details of the pacification work done in 1945-6 should see the “Proceedings of the American Foundation for Social Research” for a paper entitled A Study of the Execution of the American Peace Policy from February, 1945. The de facto solution of the problem of policing the world against war left the United States with the much greater problem of perfecting a policy that would insure that the deadly power of the dust would never fall into unfit hands.

The problem is as easy to state as the problem of squaring the circle and almost as impossible of accomplishment. Both Manning and the President believed that the United States must of necessity keep the power for the time being, until some permanent institution could be developed fit to retain it. The hazard was this: Foreign policy is lodged jointly in the hands of the President and the Congress. We were fortunate at the time in having a good President and an adequate Congress, but that was no guarantee for the future. We have had unfit Presidents and power-hungry Congresses—oh, yes! Read the history of the Mexican War.

We were about to hand over to future governments of the United States the power to turn the entire globe into an empire, our empire. And it was the sober opinion of the President that our characteristic and beloved democratic culture would not stand up under the temptation. Imperialism degrades both oppressor and oppressed.

The President was determined that our sudden power should be used for the absolute minimum of maintaining peace in the world—the simple purpose of outlawing war and nothing else. It must not be used to protect American investments abroad, to coerce trade agreements, for any purpose but the simple abolition of mass killing.

There is no science of sociology. Perhaps there will be, some day, when a rigorous physics gives a finished science of colloidal chemistry and that leads in turn to a complete knowledge of biology, and from there to a definitive psychology. After that we may begin to know something about sociology and politics. Sometime around the year 5000 A.D., maybe—if the human race does not commit suicide before then.

Until then, there is only horse sense and rule of thumb and observational knowledge of probabilities. Manning and the President played by ear.

The treaties with Great Britain, Germany and the Eurasian Union, whereby we assumed the responsibility for world peace and at the same time guaranteed the contracting nations against our own misuse of power, were rushed through in the period of relief and goodwill that immediately followed the termination of the Four-Days War. We followed the precedents established by the Panama Canal treaties, the Suez Canal agreements, and the Philippine Independence policy.

But the purpose underneath was to commit future governments of the United States to an irrevocable benevolent policy.

The act to implement the treaties by creating the Commission of World Safety followed soon after, and Colonel Manning became Mr. Commissioner Manning. Commissioners had a life tenure and the intention was to create a body with the integrity, permanence and freedom from outside pressure possessed by the Supreme Court of the United States. Since the treaties contemplated an eventual joint trust, commissioners need not be American citizens—and the oath they took was to preserve the peace of the world. 

There was trouble getting the clause past the Congress! Every other similar oath had been to the Constitution of the United States.

Nevertheless the Commission was formed. It took charge of world aircraft, assumed jurisdiction over radioactives, natural and artificial, and commenced the long slow task of building up the Peace Patrol.

Manning envisioned a corps of world policemen, an aristocracy which, through selection and indoctrination, could be trusted with unlimited power over the life of every man, every woman, every child on the face of the globe. For the power would be unlimited; the precautions necessary to insure the unbeatable weapon from getting loose in the world again made it axiomatic that its custodians would wield power that is safe only in the hands of Deity. There would be no one to guard those selfsame guardians. Their own characters and the watch they kept on each other would be all that stood between the race and disaster.

For the first time in history, supreme political power was to be exerted with no possibility of checks and balances from the outside. Manning took up the task of perfecting it with a dragging subconscious conviction that it was too much for human nature.

The rest of the Commission was appointed slowly, the names being sent to the Senate after long joint consideration by the President and Manning. The director of the Red Cross, an obscure little professor of history from Switzerland, Dr. Igor Rimski who had developed the Karst-Obre technique independently and whom the A.P.F. had discovered in prison after the dusting of Moscow—those three were the only foreigners. The rest of the list is well known.

Ridpath and his staff were of necessity the original technical crew of the Commission; United States Army and Navy pilots its first patrolmen. Not all of the pilots available were needed; their records were searched, their habits and associates investigated, their mental processes and emotional attitudes examined by the best psychological research methods available—which weren’t good enough. Their final acceptance for the Patrol depended on two personal interviews, one with Manning, one with the President.

Manning told me that he depended more on the President’s feeling for character than he did on all the association and reaction tests the psychologists could think up. “It’s like the nose of a bloodhound,” he said. “In his forty years of practical politics he has seen more phonies than you and I will ever see and each one was trying to sell him something. He can tell one in the dark.”

The long-distance plan included the schools for the indoctrination of cadet patrolmen, schools that were to be open to youths of any race, color, or nationality, and from which they would go forth to guard the peace of every country but their own. To that country a man would never return during his service. They were to be a deliberately expatriated band of Janizaries, with an obligation only to the Commission and to the race, and welded together with a carefully nurtured esprit de corps.

It stood a chance of working. Had Manning been allowed twenty years without interruption, the original plan might have worked.* * *

The President’s running mate for reelection was the result of a political compromise. The candidate for Vice President was a confirmed isolationist who had opposed the Peace Commission from the first, but it was he or a party split in a year when the opposition was strong. The President sneaked back in but with a greatly weakened Congress; only his power of veto twice prevented the repeal of the Peace Act. The Vice President did nothing to help him, although he did not publicly lead the insurrection. Manning revised his plans to complete the essential program by the end of 1952, there being no way to predict the temper of the next administration.

We were both overworked and I was beginning to realize that my health was gone. The cause was not far to seek; a photographic film strapped next to my skin would cloud in twenty minutes. I was suffering from cumulative minimal radioactive poisoning. No well-defined cancer that could be operated on, but a systemic deterioration of function and tissue. There was no help for it, and there was work to be done. I’ve always attributed it mainly to the week I spent sitting on those canisters before the raid on Berlin.* * *

February 17, 1951. I missed the televue flash about the plane crash that killed the President because I was lying down in my apartment. Manning, by that time, was requiring me to rest every afternoon after lunch, though I was still on duty. I first heard about it from my secretary when I returned to my office, and at once hurried into Manning’s office.

There was a curious unreality to that meeting. It seemed to me that we had slipped back to that day when I returned from England, the day that Estelle Karst died. He looked up. “Hello, John,” he said.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, chief,” was all I could think of to say.

Forty-eight hours later came the message from the newly sworn-in President for Manning to report to him. I took it in to him, an official despatch which I decoded. Manning read it, face impassive.

“Are you going, chief?” I asked.

“Eh? Why, certainly.”

I went back into my office, and got my topcoat, gloves, and briefcase.

Manning looked up when I came back in. “Never mind, John,” he said. “You’re not going.” I guess I must have looked stubborn, for he added, “You’re not to go because there is work to do here. Wait a minute.”

He went to his safe, twiddled the dials, opened it and removed a sealed envelope which he threw on the desk between us. “Here are your orders. Get busy.”

He went out as I was opening them. I read them through and got busy. There was little enough time.* * *

The new President received Manning standing and in the company of several of his bodyguards and intimates. Manning recognized the senator who had led the movement to use the Patrol to recover expropriated holdings in South America and Rhodesia, as well as the chairman of the committee on aviation with whom he had had several unsatisfactory conferences in an attempt to work out a modus operandi for reinstituting commercial airlines.

“You’re prompt, I see,” said the President. “Good.”

Manning bowed.

“We might as well come straight to the point,” the Chief Executive went on. “There are going to be some changes of policy in the administration. I want your resignation.”

“I am sorry to have to refuse, sir.”

“We’ll see about that. In the meantime, Colonel Manning, you are relieved from duty.”

“Mr. Commissioner Manning, if you please.”

The new President shrugged. “One or the other, as you please. You are relieved, either way.”

“I am sorry to disagree again. My appointment is for life.”

“That’s enough,” was the answer. “This is the United States of America. There can be no higher authority. You are under arrest.”

I can visualize Manning staring steadily at him for a long moment, then answering slowly, “You are physically able to arrest me, I will concede, but I advise you to wait a few minutes.” He stepped to the window. “Look up into the sky.”

Six bombers of the Peace Commission patrolled over the Capitol. “None of those pilots is American born,” Manning added slowly. “If you confine me, none of us here in this room will live out the day.”

There were incidents thereafter, such as the unfortunate affair at Fort Benning three days later, and the outbreak in the wing of the Patrol based in Lisbon and its resultant wholesale dismissals, but for practical purposes, that was all there was to the coup d’etat. 

Manning was the undisputed military dictator of the world.

Whether or not any man as universally hated as Manning can perfect the Patrol he envisioned, make it self-perpetuating and trustworthy, I don’t know, and—because of that week of waiting in a buried English hangar—I won’t be here to find out. Manning’s heart disease makes the outcome even more uncertain—he may last another twenty years; he may keel over dead tomorrow—and there is no one to take his place. I’ve set this down partly to occupy the short time I have left and partly to show there is another side to any story, even world dominion.

Not that I would like the outcome, either way. If there is anything to this survival-after-death business, I am going to look up the man who invented the bow and arrow and take him apart with my bare hands. For myself, I can’t be happy in a world where any man, or group of men, has the power of death over you and me, our neighbors, every human, every animal, every living thing. I don’t like anyone to have that kind of power.

And neither does Manning.

The End

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Plague Ship (Full Text) by Andre Norton (writing as “Andrew North”)

Here is a piece of classic science fiction. It’s a full novel or novelle (if your wish)… maybe a novelette. Plague Ship (Full Text) by Andre Norton. What ever it is, it’s a good read from the days of pulp science fiction stories.

These books used to rest in wire frames in the fronts of pharmacies, small-town grocery stores, soda fountains, and other similiar venues all accross the United States. Boys like myself, would plop down a nickel, buy one of these books, and grab a soda to read during the long hot Summer.

Well, I actually came a little later on the scene. The stores that sold these books were mostly “booksellers”, and the cost of a soda increased to twenty five cents. But pretty much everything else stayed the same. Oh, and I fogot to add my “Banana seat” bicycle to the mix…

Anyways…

It’s a grood read for all of you’se guys who are all at home cooped up trying to avoid the COVID-19. Stay safe. Be cool, and enjoy this moment. It will allow you some much needed family and personal time. Don’t squander it.

Enjoy.

PLAGUE SHIP


Chapter I

PERFUMED PLANET

Dane Thorson, Cargo-master-apprentice of the Solar Queen, Galactic Free Trader spacer, Terra registry, stood in the middle of the ship’s cramped bather while Rip Shannon, assistant Astrogator and his senior in the Service of Trade by some four years, applied gobs of highly scented paste to the skin between Dane’s rather prominent shoulder blades. The small cabin was thickly redolent with spicy odors and Rip sniffed appreciatively.

“You’re sure going to be about the best smelling Terran who ever set boot on Sargol’s soil,” his soft slur of speech ended in a rich chuckle.

Dane snorted and tried to estimate progress over one shoulder.

“The things we have to do for Trade!” his comment carried a hint of present embarrassment. “Get it well in—this stuff’s supposed to hold for hours. It’d better. According to Van those Salariki can talk your ears right off your head and say nothing worth hearing. And we have to sit and listen until we get a straight answer out of them. Phew!” He shook his head. In such close quarters the scent, pleasing as it was, was also overpowering. “We would have to pick a world such as this—”

Rip’s dark fingers halted their circular motion. “Dane,” he warned, “don’t you go talking against this venture. We got it soft and we’re going to be credit-happy—if it works out—”

But, perversely, Dane held to a gloomier view of the immediate future. “If,” he repeated. “There’s a galaxy of ‘ifs’ in this Sargol proposition. All very well for you to rest easy on your fins—you don’t have to run about smelling like a spice works before you can get the time of day from one of the natives!”

Rip put down the jar of cream. “Different worlds, different customs,” he iterated the old tag of the Service. “Be glad this one is so easy to conform to. There are some I can think of—There,” he ended his massage with a stinging slap. “You’re all evenly greased. Good thing you don’t have Van’s bulk to cover. It takes him a good hour to get his cream on—even with Frank helping to spread. Your clothes ought to be steamed up and ready, too, by now—”

He opened a tight wall cabinet, originally intended to sterilize clothing which might be contaminated by contact with organisms inimical to Terrans. A cloud of steam fragrant with the same spicy scent poured out.

Dane gingerly tugged loose his Trade uniform, its brown silky fabric damp on his skin as he dressed. Luckily Sargol was warm. When he stepped out on its ruby tinted soil this morning no lingering taint of his off-world origin must remain to disgust the sensitive nostrils of the Salariki. He supposed he would get used to this process. After all this was the first time he had undergone the ritual. But he couldn’t lose the secret conviction that it was all very silly. Only what Rip had pointed out was the truth—one adjusted to the customs of aliens or one didn’t trade and there were other things he might have had to do on other worlds which would have been far more upsetting to that core of private fastidiousness which few would have suspected existed in his tall, lanky frame.

“Whew—out in the open with you—!” Ali Kamil apprentice Engineer, screwed his too regular features into an expression of extreme distaste and waved Dane by him in the corridor.

For the sake of his shipmates’ olfactory nerves, Dane hurried on to the port which gave on the ramp now tying the Queen to Sargol’s crust. But there he lingered, waiting for Van Rycke, the Cargo-master of the spacer and his immediate superior. It was early morning and now that he was out of the confinement of the ship the fresh morning winds cut about him, rippling through the blue-green grass forest beyond, to take much of his momentary irritation with them.

There were no mountains in this section of Sargol—the highest elevations being rounded hills tightly clothed with the same ten-foot grass which covered the plains. From the Queen’s observation ports, one could watch the constant ripple of the grass so that the planet appeared to be largely clothed in a shimmering, flowing carpet. To the west were the seas—stretches of shallow water so cut up by strings of islands that they more resembled a series of salty lakes. And it was what was to be found in those seas which had lured the Solar Queen to Sargol.

Though, by rights, the discovery was that of another Trader—Traxt Cam—who had bid for trading rights to Sargol, hoping to make a comfortable fortune—or at least expenses with a slight profit—in the perfume trade, exporting from the scented planet some of its most fragrant products. But once on Sargol he had discovered the Koros stones—gems of a new type—a handful of which offered across the board in one of the inner planet trading marts had nearly caused a riot among bidding gem merchants. And Cam had been well on the way to becoming one of the princes of Trade when he had been drawn into the vicious net of the Limbian pirates and finished off.

Because they, too, had stumbled into the trap which was Limbo, and had had a very definite part in breaking up that devilish installation, the crew of the Solar Queen had claimed as their reward the trading rights of Traxt Cam in default of legal heirs. And so here they were on Sargol with the notes left by Cam as their guide, and as much lore concerning the Salariki as was known crammed into their minds.

Dane sat down on the end of the ramp, his feet on Sargolian soil, thin, red soil with glittering bits of gold flake in it. He did not doubt that he was under observation from hidden eyes, but he tried to show no sign that he guessed it. The adult Salariki maintained at all times an attitude of aloof and complete indifference toward the Traders, but the juvenile population were as curious as their elders were contemptuous. Perhaps there was a method of approach in that. Dane considered the idea.

Van Rycke and Captain Jellico had handled the first negotiations—and the process had taken most of a day—the result totaling exactly nothing. In their contacts with the off world men the feline ancestered Salariki were ceremonious, wary, and completely detached. But Cam had gotten to them somehow—or he would not have returned from his first trip with that pouch of Koros stones. Only, among his records, salvaged on Limbo, he had left absolutely no clue as to how he had beaten down native sales resistance. It was baffling. But patience had to be the middle name of every Trader and Dane had complete faith in Van. Sooner or later the Cargo-master would find a key to unlock the Salariki.

As if the thought of Dane’s chief had summoned him, Van Rycke, his scented tunic sealed to his bull’s neck in unaccustomed trimness, his cap on his blond head, strode down the ramp, broadcasting waves of fragrance as he moved. He sniffed vigorously as he approached his assistant and then nodded in approval.

“So you’re all greased and ready—”

“Is the Captain coming too, sir?”

Van Rycke shook his head. “This is our headache. Patience, my boy, patience—” He led the way through a thin screen of the grass on the other side of the scorched landing field to a well-packed earth road.

Again Dane felt eyes, knew that they were being watched. But no Salarik stepped out of concealment. At least they had nothing to fear in the way of attack. Traders were immune, taboo, and the trading stations were set up under the white diamond shield of peace, a peace guaranteed on blood oath by every clan chieftain in the district. Even in the midst of interclan feuding deadly enemies met in amity under that shield and would not turn claw knife against each other within a two mile radius of its protection.

The grass forests rustled betrayingly, but the Terrans displayed no interest in those who spied upon them. An insect with wings of brilliant green gauze detached itself from the stalk of a grass tree and fluttered ahead of the Traders as if it were an official herald. From the red soil crushed by their boots arose a pungent odor which fought with the scent they carried with them. Dane swallowed three or four times and hoped that his superior officer had not noticed that sign of discomfort. Though Van Rycke, in spite of his general air of sleepy benevolence and careless goodwill, noticed everything, no matter how trivial, which might have a bearing on the delicate negotiations of Galactic Trade. He had not climbed to his present status of expert Cargo-master by overlooking anything at all. Now he gave an order:

“Take an equalizer—”

Dane reached for his belt pouch, flushing, fiercely determined inside himself, that no matter how smells warred about him that day, he was not going to let it bother him. He swallowed the tiny pellet Medic Tau had prepared for just such trials and tried to occupy his mind with the work to come. If there would be any work—or would another long day be wasted in futile speeches of mutual esteem which gave formal lip service to Trade and its manifest benefits?

“Houuuu—” The cry which was half wail, half arrogant warning, sounded along the road behind them.

Van Rycke’s stride did not vary. He did not turn his head, show any sign he had heard that heralding fanfare for a clan chieftain. And he continued to keep to the exact center of the road, Dane the regulation one pace to the rear and left as befitted his lower rank.

“Houuu—” that blast from the throat of a Salarik especially chosen for his lung power was accompanied now by the hollow drum of many feet. The Terrans neither looked around nor withdrew from the center, nor did their pace quicken.

That, too, was in order, Dane knew. To the rank conscious Salariki clansmen you did not yield precedence unless you wanted at once to acknowledge your inferiority—and if you did that by some slip of admission or omission, there was no use in trying to treat face to face with their chieftains again.

“Houuu—!” The blast behind was a scream as the retinue it announced swept around the bend in the road to catch sight of the two Traders oblivious of it. Dane longed to be able to turn his head, just enough to see which one of the local lordlings they blocked.

“Houu—” there was a questioning note in the cry now and the heavy thud-thud of feet was slacking. The clan party had seen them, were hesitant about the wisdom of trying to shove them aside.

Van Rycke marched steadily onward and Dane matched his pace. They might not possess a leather-lunged herald to clear their road, but they gave every indication of having the right to occupy as much of it as they wished. And that unruffled poise had its affect upon those behind. The pound of feet slowed to a walk, a walk which would keep a careful distance behind the two Terrans. It had worked—the Salariki—or these Salariki—were accepting them at their own valuation—a good omen for the day’s business. Dane’s spirits rose, but he schooled his features into a mask as wooden as his superior’s. After all this was a very minor victory and they had ten or twelve hours of polite, and hidden, maneuvering before them.

The Solar Queen had set down as closely as possible to the trading center marked on Traxt Cam’s private map and the Terrans now had another five minutes march, in the middle of the road, ahead of the chieftain who must be inwardly boiling at their presence, before they came out in the clearing containing the roofless, circular erection which served the Salariki of the district as a market place and a common meeting ground for truce talks and the mending of private clan alliances. Erect on a pole in the middle, towering well above the nodding fronds of the grass trees, was the pole bearing the trade shield which promised not only peace to those under it, but a three day sanctuary to any feuder or duelist who managed to win to it and lay hands upon its weathered standard.

They were not the first to arrive, which was also a good thing. Gathered in small groups about the walls of the council place were the personal attendants, liege warriors, and younger relatives of at least four or five clan chieftains. But, Dane noted at once, there was not a single curtained litter or riding orgel to be seen. None of the feminine part of the Salariki species had arrived. Nor would they until the final trade treaty was concluded and established by their fathers, husbands, or sons.

With the assurance of one who was master in his own clan, Van Rycke, displaying no interest at all in the shifting mass of lower rank Salariki, marched straight on to the door of the enclosure. Two or three of the younger warriors got to their feet, their brilliant cloaks flicking out like spreading wings. But when Van Rycke did not even lift an eyelid in their direction, they made no move to block his path.

As fighting men, Dane thought, trying to study the specimens before him with a totally impersonal stare, the Salariki were an impressive lot. Their average height was close to six feet, their distant feline ancestry apparent only in small vestiges. A Salarik’s nails on both hands and feet were retractile, his skin was gray, his thick hair, close to the texture of plushy fur, extended down his backbone and along the outside of his well muscled arms and legs, and was tawny-yellow, blue-gray or white. To Terran eyes the broad faces, now all turned in their direction, lacked readable expression. The eyes were large and set slightly aslant in the skull, being startlingly orange-red or a brilliant turquoise green-blue. They wore loin cloths of brightly dyed fabrics with wide sashes forming corselets about their slender middles, from which gleamed the gem-set hilts of their claw knives, the possession of which proved their adulthood. Cloaks as flamboyant as their other garments hung in bat wing folds from their shoulders and each and every one moved in an invisible cloud of perfume.

Brilliant as the assemblage of liege men without had been, the gathering of clan leaders and their upper officers within the council place was a riot of color—and odor. The chieftains were installed on the wooden stools, each with a small table before him on which rested a goblet bearing his own clan sign, a folded strip of patterned cloth—his “trade shield”—and a gemmed box containing the scented paste he would use for refreshment during the ordeal of conference.

A breeze fluttered sash ends and tugged at cloaks, otherwise the assembly was motionless and awesomely quiet. Still making no overtures Van Rycke crossed to a stool and table which stood a little apart and seated himself. Dane went into the action required of him. Before his superior he set out a plastic pocket flask, its color as alive in the sunlight as the crudely cut gems which the Salariki sported, a fine silk handkerchief, and, last of all, a bottle of Terran smelling salts provided by Medic Tau as a necessary restorative after some hours combination of Salariki oratory and Salariki perfumes. Having thus done the duty of liege man, Dane was at liberty to seat himself, cross-legged on the ground behind his chief, as the other sons, heirs, and advisors had gathered behind their lords.

The chieftain whose arrival they had in a manner delayed came in after them and Dane saw that it was Fashdor—another piece of luck—since that clan was a small one and the chieftain had little influence. Had they so slowed Halfer or Paft it might be a different matter altogether.

Fashdor was established at his seat, his belongings spread out, and Dane, counting unobtrusively, was certain that the council was now complete. Seven clans Traxt Cam had recorded divided the sea coast territory and there were seven chieftains here—indicative of the importance of this meeting since some of these clans beyond the radius of the shield peace, must be fighting a vicious blood feud at that very moment. Yes, seven were here. Yet there still remained a single stool, directly across the circle from Van Rycke. An empty stool—who was the late comer?

That question was answered almost as it flashed into Dane’s mind. But no Salariki lordling came through the door. Dane’s self-control kept him in his place, even after he caught the meaning of the insignia emblazoned across the newcomer’s tunic. Trader—and not only a Trader but a Company man! But why—and how? The Companies only went after big game—this was a planet thrown open to Free Traders, the independents of the star lanes. By law and right no Company man had any place here. Unless—behind a face Dane strove to keep as impassive as Van’s his thoughts raced. Traxt Cam as a Free Trader had bid for the right to exploit Sargol when its sole exportable product was deemed to be perfume—a small, unimportant trade as far as the Companies were concerned. And then the Koros stones had been found and the importance of Sargol must have boomed as far as the big boys could see. They probably knew of Traxt Cam’s death as soon as the Patrol report on Limbo had been sent to Headquarters. The Companies all maintained their private information and espionage services. And, with Traxt Cam dead without an heir, they had seen their chance and moved in. Only, Dane’s teeth set firmly, they didn’t have the ghost of a chance now. Legally there was only one Trader on Sargol and that was the Solar Queen, Captain Jellico had his records signed by the Patrol to prove that. And all this Inter-Solar man would do now was to bow out and try poaching elsewhere.

But the I-S man appeared to be in no haste to follow that only possible course. He was seating himself with arrogant dignity on that unoccupied stool, and a younger man in I-S uniform was putting before him the same type of equipment Dane had produced for Van Rycke. The Cargo-master of the Solar Queen showed no surprise, if the Eysies’ appearance had been such to him.

One of the younger warriors in Paft’s train got to his feet and brought his hands together with a clap which echoed across the silent gathering with the force of an archaic solid projectal shot. A Salarik, wearing the rich dress of the upper ranks, but also the collar forced upon a captive taken in combat, came into the enclosure carrying a jug in both hands. Preceded by Paft’s son he made the rounds of the assembly pouring a purple liquid from his jug into the goblet before each chieftain, a goblet which Paft’s heirs tasted ceremoniously before it was presented to the visiting clan leader. When they paused before Van Rycke the Salarik nobleman touched the side of the plasta flask in token. It was recognized that off world men must be cautious over the sampling of local products and that when they joined in the Taking of the First Cup of Peace, they did so symbolically.

Paft raised his cup, his gesture copied by everyone around the circle. In the harsh tongue of his race he repeated a formula so archaic that few of the Salariki could now translate the sing-song words. They drank and the meeting was formally opened.

But it was an elderly Salarik seated to the right of Halfer, a man who wore no claw knife and whose dusky yellow cloak and sash made a subdued note amid the splendor of his fellows, who spoke first, using the click-clack of the Trade Lingo his nation had learned from Cam.

“Under the white,” he pointed to the shield aloft, “we assemble to hear many things. But now come two tongues to speak where once there was but one father of a clan. Tell us, outlanders, which of you must we now hark to in truth?” He looked from Van Rycke to the I-S representative.

The Cargo-master from the Queen did not reply. He stared across the circle at the Company man. Dane waited eagerly. What was the I-S going to say to that?

But the fellow did have an answer, ready and waiting. “It is true, fathers of clans, that here are two voices, where by right and custom there should only be one. But this is a matter which can be decided between us. Give us leave to withdraw from your sight and speak privately together. Then he who returns to you will be the true voice and there shall be no more division—”

It was Paft who broke in before Halfer’s spokesman could reply.

“It would have been better to have spoken together before you came to us. Go then until the shadow of the shield is not, then return hither and speak truly. We do not wait upon the pleasure of outlanders—”

A murmur approved that tart comment. “Until the shadow of the shield is not.” They had until noon. Van Rycke arose and Dane gathered up his chief’s possessions. With the same superiority to his surroundings he had shown upon entering, the Cargo-master left the enclosure, the Eysies following. But they were away from the clearing, out upon the road back to the Queen before the two from the Company caught up with them.

“Captain Grange will see you right away—” the Eysie Cargo-master was beginning when Van Rycke met him with a quelling stare.

“If you poachers have anything to say—you say it at the Queen and to Captain Jellico,” he stated flatly and started on.

Above his tight tunic collar the other’s face flushed, his teeth flashed as he caught his lower lip between them as if to forcibly restrain an answer he longed to make. For a second he hesitated and then he vanished down a side path with his assistant. Van Rycke had gone a quarter of the distance back to the ship before he spoke.

“I thought it was too easy,” he muttered. “Now we’re in for it—maybe right up the rockets! By the Spiked Tail of Exol, this is certainly not our lucky day!” He quickened pace until they were close to trotting.


Chapter II

RIVALS

“That’s far enough, Eysie!”

Although Traders by law and tradition carried no more potent personal weapons—except in times of great crisis—than hand sleep rods, the resultant shot from the latter was just as unpleasant for temporary periods as a more forceful beam—and the threat of it was enough to halt the three men who had come to the foot of the Queen’s ramp and who could see the rod held rather negligently by Ali. Ali’s eyes were anything but negligent, however, and Free Traders had reputations to be respected by their rivals of the Companies. The very nature of their roving lives taught them savage lessons—which they either learned or died.

Dane, glancing down over the Engineer-apprentice’s shoulder, saw that Van Rycke’s assumption of confidence had indeed paid off. They had left the trade enclosure of the Salariki barely three-quarters of an hour ago. But below now stood the bebadged Captain of the I-S ship and his Cargo-master.

“I want to speak to your Captain—” snarled the Eysie officer.

Ali registered faint amusement, an expression which tended to rouse the worst in the spectator, as Dane knew of old when that same mocking appraisal had been turned on him as the rawest of the Queen’s crew.

“But does he wish to speak to you?” countered Kamil. “Just stay where you are, Eysie, until we are sure about that fact.”

That was his cue to act as messenger. Dane retreated into the ship and swung up the ladder to the command section. As he passed Captain Jellico’s private cabin he heard the muffled squall of the commander’s unpleasant pet—Queex, the Hoobat—a nightmare combination of crab, parrot and toad, wearing a blue feather coating and inclined to scream and spit at all comers. Since Queex would not be howling in that fashion if its master was present, Dane kept on to the control cabin where he blundered in upon an executive level conference of Captain, Cargo-master and Astrogator.

“Well?” Jellico’s blaster scarred left cheek twitched as he snapped that impatient inquiry at the messenger.

“Eysie Captain below, sir. With his Cargo-master. They want to see you—”

Jellico’s mouth was a straight line, his eyes very hard. By instinct Dane’s hand went to the grip of the sleep rod slung at his belt. When the Old Man put on his fighting face—look out! Here we go again, he told himself, speculating as to just what type of action lay before them now.

“Oh, they do, do they!” Jellico began and then throttled down the temper he could put under iron control when and if it were necessary. “Very well, tell them to stay where they are. Van, we’ll go down—”

For a moment the Cargo-master hesitated, his heavy-lidded eyes looked sleepy, he seemed almost disinterested in the suggestion. And when he nodded it was with the air of someone about to perform some boring duty.

“Right, sir.” He wriggled his heavy body from behind the small table, resealed his tunic, and settled his cap with as much precision as if he were about to represent the Queen before the assembled nobility of Sargol.

Dane hurried down the ladders, coming to a halt beside Ali. It was the turn of the man at the foot of the ramp to bark an impatient demand:

“Well?” (Was that the theme word of every Captain’s vocabulary?)

“You wait,” Dane replied with no inclination to give the Eysie officer any courtesy address. Close to a Terran year aboard the Solar Queen had inoculated him with pride in his own section of Service. A Free Trader was answerable to his own officers and to no one else on earth—or among the stars—no matter how much discipline and official etiquette the Companies used to enhance their power.

He half expected the I-S officers to leave after an answer such as that. For a Company Captain to be forced to wait upon the convenience of a Free Trader must be galling in the extreme. And the fact that this one was doing just that was an indication that the Queen’s crew did, perhaps, have the edge of advantage in any coming bargain. In the meantime the Eysie contingent fumed below while Ali lounged whistling against the exit port, playing with his sleep rod and Dane studied the grass forest. His boot nudged a packet just inside the port casing and he glanced inquiringly from it to Ali.

“Cat ransom,” the other answered his unspoken question.

So that was it—the fee for Sinbad’s return. “What is it today?”

“Sugar—about a tablespoon full,” the Engineer-assistant returned, “and two colored steelos. So far they haven’t run up the price on us. I think they’re sharing out the spoil evenly, a new cub brings him back every night.”

As did all Terran ships, the Solar Queen carried a cat as an important member of the regular crew. And the portly Sinbad, before their landing on Sargol, had never presented any problem. He had done his duty of ridding the ship of unusual and usual pests and cargo despoilers with dispatch, neatness and energy. And when in port on alien worlds had never shown any inclination to go a-roving.

But the scents of Sargol had apparently intoxicated him, shearing away his solid dignity and middle-aged dependability. Now Sinbad flashed out of the Queen at the opening of her port in the early morning and was brought back, protesting with both voice and claws, at the end of the day by that member of the juvenile population whose turn it was to collect the standing reward for his forceful delivery. Within three days it had become an accepted business transaction which satisfied everyone but Sinbad.

The scrape of metal boot soles on ladder rungs warned of the arrival of their officers. Ali and Dane withdrew down the corridor, leaving the entrance open for Jellico and Van Rycke. Then they drifted back to witness the meeting with the Eysies.

There were no prolonged greetings between the two parties, no offer of hospitality as might have been expected between Terrans on an alien planet a quarter of the Galaxy away from the earth which had given them a common heritage.

Jellico, with Van Rycke at his shoulder, halted before he stepped from the ramp so that the three Inter-Solar men, Captain, Cargo-master and escort, whether they wished or no, were put in the disadvantageous position of having to look up to a Captain whom they, as members of one of the powerful Companies, affected to despise. The lean, well muscled, trim figure of the Queen’s commander gave the impression of hard bitten force held in check by will control, just as his face under its thick layer of space burn was that of an adventurer accustomed to make split second decisions—an estimate underlined by that seam of blaster burn across one flat cheek.

Van Rycke, with a slight change of dress, could have been a Company man in the higher ranks—or so the casual observer would have placed him, until an observer marked the eyes behind those sleepy drooping lids, or caught a certain note in the calm, unhurried drawl of his voice. To look at the two senior officers of the Free Trading spacer were the antithesis of each other—in action they were each half of a powerful, steamroller whole—as a good many men in the Service—scattered over a half dozen or so planets—had discovered to their cost in the past.

Now Jellico brought the heels of his space boots together with an extravagant click and his hand flourished at the fore of his helmet in a gesture which was better suited to the Patrol hero of a slightly out-of-date Video serial.

“Jellico, Solar Queen, Free Trader,” he identified himself brusquely, and added, “this is Van Rycke, our Cargo-master.”

Not all the flush had faded from the face of the I-S Captain.

“Grange of the Dart,” he did not even sketch a salute. “Inter-Solar. Kallee, Cargo-master—” And he did not name the hovering third member of his party.

Jellico stood waiting and after a long moment of silence Grange was forced to state his business.

“We have until noon—”

Jellico, his fingers hooked in his belt, simply waited. And under his level gaze the Eysie Captain began to find the going hard.

“They have given us until noon,” he started once more, “to get together—”

Jellico’s voice came, coldly remote. “There is no reason for any ‘getting together,’ Grange. By rights I can have you up before the Trade Board for poaching. The Solar Queen has sole trading rights here. If you up-ship within a reasonable amount of time, I’ll be inclined to let it pass. After all I’ve no desire to run all the way to the nearest Patrol post to report you—”

“You can’t expect to buck Inter-Solar. We’ll make you an offer—” That was Kallee’s contribution, made probably because his commanding officer couldn’t find words explosive enough.

Jellico, whose forté was more direct action, took an excursion into heavy-handed sarcasm. “You Eysies have certainly been given excellent briefing. I would advise a little closer study of the Code—and not the sections in small symbols at the end of the tape, either! We’re not bucking anyone. You’ll find our registration for Sargol down on tapes at the Center. And I suggest that the sooner you withdraw the better—before we cite you for illegal planeting.”

Grange had gained control of his emotions. “We’re pretty far from Center here,” he remarked. It was a statement of fact, but it carried over-tones which they were able to assess correctly. The Solar Queen was a Free Trader, alone on an alien world. But the I-S ship might be cruising in company, ready to summon aid, men and supplies. Dane drew a deep breath, the Eysies must be sure of themselves, not only that, but they must want what Sargol had to offer to the point of being willing to step outside the law to get it.

The I-S Captain took a step forward. “I think we understand each other now,” he said, his confidence restored.

Van Rycke answered him, his deep voice cutting across the sighing of the wind in the grass forest.

“Your proposition?”

Perhaps this return to their implied threat bolstered their belief in the infallibility of the Company, their conviction that no independent dared stand up against the might and power of Inter-Solar. Kallee replied:

“We’ll take up your contract, at a profit to you, and you up-ship before the Salariki are confused over whom they are to deal with—”

“And the amount of profit?” Van Rycke bored in.

“Oh,” Kallee shrugged, “say ten percent of Cam’s last shipment—”

Jellico laughed. “Generous, aren’t you, Eysie? Ten percent of a cargo which can’t be assessed—the gang on Limbo kept no records of what they plundered.”

“We don’t know what he was carrying when he crashed on Limbo,” countered Kallee swiftly. “We’ll base our offer on what he carried to Axal.”

Now Van Rycke chucked. “I wonder who figured that one out?” he inquired of the scented winds. “He must save the Company a fair amount of credits one way or another. Interesting offer—”

By the bland satisfaction to be read on the three faces below the I-S men were assured of their victory. The Solar Queen would be paid off with a pittance, under the vague threat of Company retaliation she would up-ship from Sargol, and they would be left in possession of the rich Koros trade—to be commended and rewarded by their superiors. Had they, Dane speculated, ever had any dealings with Free Traders before—at least with the brand of independent adventurers such as manned the Solar Queen?

Van Rycke burrowed in his belt pouch and then held out his hand. On the broad palm lay a flat disc of metal. “Very interesting—” he repeated. “I shall treasure this recording—”

The sight of that disc wiped all satisfaction from the Eysie faces. Grange’s purplish flush spread up from his tight tunic collar, Kallee blinked, and the unknown third’s hand dropped to his sleep rod. An action which was not overlooked by either Dane or Ali.

“A smooth set down to you,” Jellico gave the conventional leave taking of the Service.

“You’d better—” the Eysie Captain began hotly, and then seeing the disc Van Rycke held—that sensitive bit of metal and plastic which was recording this interview for future reference, he shut his mouth tight.

“Yes?” the Queen’s Cargo-master prompted politely. But Kallee had taken his Captain’s arm and was urging Grange away from the spacer.

“You have until noon to lift,” was Jellico’s parting shot as the three in Company livery started toward the road.

“I don’t think that they will,” he added to Van Rycke.

The Cargo-master nodded. “You wouldn’t in their place,” he pointed out reasonably. “On the other hand they’ve had a bit of a blast they weren’t expecting. It’s been a long time since Grange heard anyone say ‘no.'”

“A shock which is going to wear off,” Jellico’s habitual distrust of the future gathered force.

“This,” Van Rycke tucked the disc back into his pouch, “sent them off vector a parsec or two. Grange is not one of the strong arm blaster boys. Suppose Tang Ya does a little listening in—and maybe we can rig another surprise if Grange does try to ask advice of someone off world. In the meantime I don’t think they are going to meddle with the Salariki. They don’t want to have to answer awkward questions if we turn up a Patrol ship to ask them. So—” he stretched and beckoned to Dane, “we shall go to work once more.”

Again two paces behind Van Rycke Dane tramped to the trade circle of the Salariki clansmen. They might have walked out only five or six minutes of ship time before, and the natives betrayed no particular interest in their return. But, Dane noted, there was only one empty stool, one ceremonial table in evidence. The Salariki had expected only one Terran Trader to join them.

What followed was a dreary round of ceremony, an exchange of platitudes and empty good wishes and greetings. No one mentioned Koros stones—or even perfume bark—that he was willing to offer the off-world traders. None lifted so much as a corner of his trade cloth, under which, if he were ready to deal seriously, his hidden hand would meet that of the buyer, so that by finger pressure alone they could agree or disagree on price. But such boring sessions were part of Trade and Dane, keeping a fraction of attention on the speeches and “drinkings-together,” watched those around him with an eye which tried to assess and classify what he saw.

The keynote of the Salariki character was a wary independence. The only form of government they would tolerate was a family-clan organization. Feuds and deadly duels between individuals and clans were the accepted way of life and every male who reached adulthood went armed and ready for combat until he became a “Speaker for the past”—too old to bear arms in the field. Due to the nature of their battling lives, relatively few of the Salariki ever reached that retirement. Short-lived alliances between families sometimes occurred, usually when they were to face a common enemy greater than either. But a quarrel between chieftains, a fancied insult would rip that open in an instant. Only under the Trade Shield could seven clans sit this way without their warriors being at one another’s furred throats.

An hour before sunset Paft turned his goblet upside down on his table, a move followed speedily by every chieftain in the circle. The conference was at an end for that day. And as far as Dane could see it had accomplished exactly nothing—except to bring the Eysies into the open. What had Traxt Cam discovered which had given him the trading contract with these suspicious aliens? Unless the men from the Queen learned it, they could go on talking until the contract ran out and get no farther than they had today.

From his training Dane knew that ofttimes contact with an alien race did require long and patient handling. But between study and experiencing the situation himself there was a gulf, and he thought somewhat ruefully that he had much to learn before he could meet such a situation with Van Rycke’s unfailing patience and aplomb. The Cargo-master seemed in nowise tired by his wasted day and Dane knew that Van would probably sit up half the night, going over for the hundredth time Traxt Cam’s sketchy recordings in another painstaking attempt to discover why and how the other Free Trader had succeeded where the Queen’s men were up against a stone wall.

The harvesting of Koros stones was, as Dane and all those who had been briefed from Cam’s records knew, a perilous job. Though the rule of the Salariki was undisputed on the land masses of Sargol, it was another matter in the watery world of the shallow seas. There the Gorp were in command of the territory and one had to be constantly alert for attack from the sly, reptilian intelligence, so alien to the thinking processes of both Salariki and Terran that there was, or seemed to be, no point of possible contact. One went gathering Koros gems after balancing life against gain. And perhaps the Salariki did not see any profit in that operation. Yet Traxt Cam had brought back his bag of gems—somehow he had managed to secure them in trade.

Van Rycke climbed the ramp, hurrying on into the Queen as if he would not get back to his records soon enough. But Dane paused and looked back at the grass jungle a little wistfully. To his mind these early morning hours were the best time on Sargol. The light was golden, the night winds had not yet arisen. He disliked exchanging the freedom of the open for the confinement of the spacer.

And, as he hesitated there, two of the juvenile population of Sargol came out of the forest. Between them they carried one of their hunting nets, a net which now enclosed a quiet but baneful eyed captive—Sinbad being delivered for nightly ransom. Dane was reaching for the pay to give the captors when, to his real astonishment, one of them advanced and pointed with an extended forefinger claw to the open port.

“Go in,” he formed the Trade Lingo words with care. And Dane’s surprise must have been plain to read for the cub followed his speech with a vigorous nod and set one foot on the ramp to underline his desire.

For one of the Salariki, who had continually manifested their belief that Terrans and their ship were an offence to the nostrils of all right living “men,” to wish to enter the spacer was an astonishing about-face. But any advantage no matter how small, which might bring about a closer understanding, must be seized at once.

Dane accepted the growling Sinbad and beckoned, knowing better than to touch the boy. “Come—”

Only one of the junior clansmen obeyed that invitation. The other watched, big-eyed, and then scuttled back to the forest when his fellow called out some suggestion. He was not going to be trapped.

Dane led the way up the ramp, paying no visible attention to the young Salarik, nor did he urge the other on when he lingered for a long moment or two at the port. In his mind the Cargo-master apprentice was feverishly running over the list of general trade goods. What did they carry which would make a suitable and intriguing gift for a small alien with such a promising bump of curiosity? If he had only time to get Van Rycke!

The Salarik was inside the corridor now, his nostrils spread, assaying each and every odor in this strange place. Suddenly his head jerked as if tugged by one of his own net ropes. His interest had been riveted by some scent his sensitive senses had detected. His eyes met Dane’s in appeal. Swiftly the Terran nodded and then followed with a lengthened stride as the Salarik sped down into the lower reaches of the Queen, obviously in quest of something of great importance.


Chapter III

CONTACT AT LAST

“What in”—Frank Mura, steward, storekeeper, and cook of the Queen, retreated into the nearest cabin doorway as the young Salarik flashed down the ladder into his section.

Dane, with the now resigned Sinbad in the crook of his arm, had tailed his guest and arrived just in time to see the native come to an abrupt halt before one of the most important doors in the spacer—the portal of the hydro garden which renewed the ship’s oxygen and supplied them with fresh fruit and vegetables to vary their diet of concentrates.

The Salarik laid one hand on the smooth surface of the sealed compartment and looked back over his shoulder at Dane with an inquiry to which was added something of a plea. Guided by his instinct—that this was important to them all—Dane spoke to Mura:

“Can you let him in there, Frank?”

It was not sensible, it might even be dangerous. But every member of the crew knew the necessity for making some sort of contact with the natives. Mura did not even nod, but squeezed by the Salarik and pressed the lock. There was a sign of air, and the crisp smell of growing things, lacking the languorous perfumes of the world outside, puffed into the faces.

The cub remained where he was, his head up, his wide nostrils visibly drinking in that smell. Then he moved with the silent, uncanny speed which was the heritage of his race, darting down the narrow aisle toward a mass of greenery at the far end.

Sinbad kicked and growled. This was his private hunting ground—the preserve he kept free of invaders. Dane put the cat down. The Salarik had found what he was seeking. He stood on tiptoe to sniff at a plant, his yellow eyes half closed, his whole stance spelling ecstasy. Dane looked to the steward for enlightenment.

“What’s he so interested in, Frank?”

“Catnip.”

“Catnip?” Dane repeated. The word meant nothing to him, but Mura had a habit of picking up strange plants and cultivating them for study. “What is it?”

“One of the Terran mints—an herb,” Mura gave a short explanation as he moved down the aisle toward the alien. He broke off a leaf and crushed it between his fingers.

Dane, his sense of smell largely deadened by the pungency with which he had been surrounded by most of that day, could distinguish no new odor. But the young Salarik swung around to face the steward his eyes wide, his nose questing. And Sinbad gave a whining yowl and made a spring to push his head against the steward’s now aromatic hand.

So—now they had it—an opening wedge. Dane came up to the three.

“All right to take a leaf or two?” he asked Mura.

“Why not? I grow it for Sinbad. To a cat it is like heemel smoke or a tankard of lackibod.”

And by Sinbad’s actions Dane guessed that the plant did hold for the cat the same attraction those stimulants produced in human beings. He carefully broke off a small stem supporting three leaves and presented it to the Salarik, who stared at him and then, snatching the twig, raced from the hydro garden as if pursued by feuding clansmen.

Dane heard the pad of his feet on the ladder—apparently the cub was making sure of escape with his precious find. But the Cargo-master apprentice was frowning. As far as he could see there were only five of the plants.

“That’s all the catnip you have?”

Mura tucked Sinbad under his arm and shooed Dane before him out of the hydro. “There was no need to grow more. A small portion of the herb goes a long way with this one,” he put the cat down in the corridor. “The leaves may be preserved by drying. I believe that there is a small box of them in the galley.”

A strictly limited supply. Suppose this was the key which would unlock the Koros trade? And yet it was to be summed up in five plants and a few dried leaves! However, Van Rycke must know of this as soon as possible.

But to Dane’s growing discomfiture the Cargo-master showed no elation as his junior poured out the particulars of his discovery. Instead there were definite signs of displeasure to be read by those who knew Van Rycke well. He heard Dane out and then got to his feet. Tolling the younger man with him by a crooked finger, he went out of his combined office-living quarters to the domain of Medic Craig Tau.

“Problem for you, Craig.” Van Rycke seated his bulk on the wall jump seat Tau pulled down for him. Dane was left standing just within the door, very sure now that instead of being commended for his discovery of a few minutes before, he was about to suffer some reprimand. And the reason for it still eluded him.

“What do you know about that plant Mura grows in the hydro—the one called ‘catnip’?”

Tau did not appear surprised at that demand—the Medic of a Free Trading spacer was never surprised at anything. He had his surfeit of shocks during his first years of service and after that accepted any occurrence, no matter how weird, as matter-of-fact. In addition Tau’s hobby was “magic,” the hidden knowledge possessed and used by witch doctors and medicine men on alien worlds. He had a library of recordings, odd scraps of information, of certified results of certain very peculiar experiments. Now and then he wrote a report which was sent into Central Service, read with raised eyebrows by perhaps half a dozen incredulous desk warmers, and filed away to be safely forgotten. But even that had ceased to frustrate him.

“It’s an herb of the mint family from Terra,” he replied. “Mura grows it for Sinbad—has quite a marked influence on cats. Frank’s been trying to keep him anchored to the ship by allowing him to roll in fresh leaves. He does it—then continues to sneak out whenever he can—”

That explained something for Dane—why the Salariki cub wished to enter the Queen tonight. Some of the scent of the plant had clung to Sinbad’s fur, had been detected, and the Salarik had wanted to trace it to its source.

“Is it a drug?” Van Rycke prodded.

“In the way that all herbs are drugs. Human beings have dosed themselves in the past with a tea made of the dried leaves. It has no great medicinal properties. To felines it is a stimulation—and they get the same satisfaction from rolling in and eating the leaves as we do from drinking—”

“The Salariki are, in a manner of speaking, felines—” Van Rycke mused.

Tau straightened. “The Salariki have discovered catnip, I take it?”

Van Rycke nodded at Dane and for the second time the Cargo-master apprentice made his report. When he was done Van Rycke asked a direct question of the medical officer:

“What effect would catnip have on a Salarik?”

It was only then that Dane grasped the enormity of what he had done. They had no way of gauging the influence of an off-world plant on alien metabolism. What if he had introduced to the natives of Sargol a dangerous drug—started that cub on some path of addiction. He was cold inside. Why, he might even have poisoned the child!

Tau picked up his cap, and after a second’s hesitation, his emergency medical kit. He had only one question for Dane.

“Any idea of who the cub is—what clan he belongs to?”

And Dane, chill with real fear, was forced to answer in the negative. What had he done!

“Can you find him?” Van Rycke, ignoring Dane, spoke to Tau.

The Medic shrugged. “I can try. I was out scouting this morning—met one of the storm priests who handles their medical work. But I wasn’t welcomed. However, under the circumstances, we have to try something—”

In the corridor Van Rycke had an order for Dane. “I suggest that you keep to quarters, Thorson, until we know how matters stand.”

Dane saluted. That note in his superior’s voice was like a whip lash—much worse to take than the abuse of a lesser man. He swallowed as he shut himself into his own cramped cubby. This might be the end of their venture. And they would be lucky if their charter was not withdrawn. Let I-S get an inkling of his rash action and the Company would have them up before the Board to be stripped of all their rights in the Service. Just because of his own stupidity—his pride in being able to break through where Van Rycke and the Captain had faced a stone wall. And, worse than the future which could face the Queen, was the thought that he might have introduced some dangerous drug into Sargol with his gift of those few leaves. When would he learn? He threw himself face down on his bunk and despondently pictured the string of calamities which could and maybe would stem from his thoughtless and hasty action.

Within the Queen night and day were mechanical—the lighting in the cabins did not vary much. Dane did not know how long he lay there forcing his mind to consider his stupid action, making himself face that in the Service there were no short cuts which endangered others—not unless those taking the risks were Terrans.

“Dane—!” Rip Shannon’s voice cut through his self-imposed nightmare. But he refused to answer. “Dane—Van wants you on the double!”

Why? To bring him up before Jellico probably. Dane schooled his expression, got up, pulling his tunic straight, still unable to meet Rip’s eyes. Shannon was just one of those he had let down so badly. But the other did not notice his mood. “Wait ’til you see them—! Half Sargol must be here yelling for trade!”

That comment was so far from what he had been expecting that Dane was startled out of his own gloomy thoughts. Rip’s brown face was one wide smile, his black eyes danced—it was plain he was honestly elated.

“Get a move on, fire rockets,” he urged, “or Van will blast you for fair!”

Dane did move, up the ladder to the next level and out on the port ramp. What he saw below brought him up short. Evening had come to Sargol but the scene immediately below was not in darkness. Blazing torches advanced in lines from the grass forest and the portable flood light of the spacer added to the general glare, turning night into noonday.

Van Rycke and Jellico sat on stools facing at least five of the seven major chieftains with whom they had conferred to no purpose earlier. And behind these leaders milled a throng of lesser Salariki. Yes, there was at least one carrying chair—and also an orgel from the back of which a veiled noblewoman was being assisted to dismount by two retainers. The women of the clans were coming—which could mean only that trade was at last in progress. But trade for what?

Dane strode down the ramp. He saw Paft, his hand carefully covered by his trade cloth, advance to Van Rycke, whose own fingers were decently veiled by a handkerchief. Under the folds of fabric their hands touched. The bargaining was in the first stages. And it was important enough for the clan leaders to conduct themselves. Where, according to Cam’s records, it had been usual to delegate that power to a favored liege man.

Catching the light from the ship’s beam and from the softer flares of the Salariki torches was a small pile of stones resting on a stool to one side. Dane drew a deep breath. He had heard the Koros stones described, had seen the tri-dee print of one found among Cam’s recordings but the reality was beyond his expectations. He knew the technical analysis of the gems—that they were, as the amber of Terra, the fossilized resin exuded by ancient plants (maybe the ancestors of the grass trees) long buried in the saline deposits of the shallow seas where chemical changes had taken place to produce the wonder jewels. In color they shaded from a rosy apricot to a rich mauve, but in their depths other colors, silver, fiery gold, spun sparks which seemed to move as the gem was turned. And—which was what first endeared them to the Salariki—when worn against the skin and warmed by body heat they gave off a perfume which enchanted not only the Sargolian natives but all in the Galaxy wealthy enough to own one.

On another stool placed at Van Rycke’s right hand, as that bearing the Koros stones was at Paft’s, was a transparent plastic box containing some wrinkled brownish leaves. Dane moved as unobtrusively as he could to his proper place at such a trading session, behind Van Rycke. More Salariki were tramping out of the forest, torch bearing retainers and cloaked warriors. A little to one side was a third party Dane had not seen before.

They were clustered about a staff which had been driven into the ground, a staff topped with a white streamer marking a temporary trading ground. These were Salariki right enough but they did not wear the colorful garb of those about them, instead they were all clad alike in muffling, sleeved robes of a drab green—the storm priests—their robes denoting the color of the Sargolian sky just before the onslaught of their worst tempests. Cam had not left many clues concerning the religion of the Salariki, but the storm priests had, in narrowly defined limits, power, and their recognition of the Terran Traders would add to good feeling.

In the knot of storm priests a Terran stood—Medic Tau—and he was talking earnestly with the leader of the religious party. Dane would have given much to have been free to cross and ask Tau a question or two. Was all this assembly the result of the discovery in the hydro? But even as he asked himself that, the trade cloths were shaken from the hands of the bargainers and Van Rycke gave an order over his shoulder.

“Measure out two spoonsful of the dried leaves into a box—” he pointed to a tiny plastic container.

With painstaking care Dane followed directions. At the same time a servant of the Salarik chief swept the handful of gems from the other stool and dropped them in a heap before Van Rycke, who transferred them to a strong box resting between his feet. Paft arose—but he had hardly quitted the trading seat before one of the lesser clan leaders had taken his place, the bargaining cloth ready looped loosely about his wrist.

It was at that point that the proceedings were interrupted. A new party came into the open, their utilitarian Trade tunics made a drab blot as they threaded their way in a compact group through the throng of Salariki. I-S men! So they had not lifted from Sargol.

They showed no signs of uneasiness—it was as if their rights were being infringed by the Free Traders. And Kallee, their Cargo-master, swaggered straight to the bargaining point. The chatter of Salariki voices was stilled, the Sargolians withdrew a little, letting one party of Terrans face the other, sensing drama to come. Neither Van Rycke nor Jellico spoke, it was left to Kallee to state his case.

“You’ve crooked your orbit this time, bright boys,” his jeer was a paean of triumph. “Code Three—Article six—or can’t you absorb rules tapes with your thick heads?”

Code Three—Article six, Dane searched his memory for that law of the Service. The words flashed into his mind as the auto-learner had planted them during his first year of training back in the Pool.

“To no alien race shall any Trader introduce any drug, food, or drink from off world, until such a substance has been certified as nonharmful to the aliens.”

There it was! I-S had them and it was all his fault. But if he had been so wrong, why in the world did Van Rycke sit there trading, condoning the error and making it into a crime for which they could be summoned before the Board and struck off the rolls of the Service?

Van Rycke smiled gently. “Code Four—Article two,” he quoted with the genial air of one playing gift-giver at a Forkidan feasting.

Code Four, Article two: Any organic substance offered for trade must be examined by a committee of trained medical experts, an equal representation of Terrans and aliens.

Kallee’s sneering smile did not vanish. “Well,” he challenged, “where’s your board of experts?”

“Tau!” Van Rycke called to the Medic with the storm priests. “Will you ask your colleague to be so kind as to allow the Cargo-master Kallee to be presented?”

The tall, dark young Terran Medic spoke to the priest beside him and together they came across the clearing. Van Rycke and Jellico both arose and inclined their heads in honor to the priests, as did the chief with whom they had been about to deal.

“Reader of clouds and master of many winds,” Tau’s voice flowed with the many voweled titles of the Sargolian, “may I bring before your face Cargo-master Kallee, a servant of Inter-Solar in the realm of Trade?”

The storm priest’s shaven skull and body gleamed steel gray in the light. His eyes, of that startling blue-green, regarded the I-S party with cynical detachment.

“You wish of me?” Plainly he was one who believed in getting down to essentials at once.

Kallee could not be overawed. “These Free Traders have introduced among your people a powerful drug which will bring much evil,” he spoke slowly in simple words as if he were addressing a cub.

“You have evidence of such evil?” countered the storm priest. “In what manner is this new plant evil?”

For a moment Kallee was disconcerted. But he rallied quickly. “It has not been tested—you do not know how it will affect your people—”

The storm priest shook his head impatiently. “We are not lacking in intelligence, Trader. This plant has been tested, both by your master of life secrets and ours. There is no harm in it—rather it is a good thing, to be highly prized—so highly that we shall give thanks that it was brought unto us. This speech-together is finished.” He pulled the loose folds of his robe closer about him and walked away.

“Now,” Van Rycke addressed the I-S party, “I must ask you to withdraw. Under the rules of Trade your presence here can be actively resented—”

But Kallee had lost little of his assurance. “You haven’t heard the last of this. A tape of the whole proceedings goes to the Board—”

“As you wish. But in the meantime—” Van Rycke gestured to the waiting Salariki who were beginning to mutter impatiently. Kallee glanced around, heard those mutters, and made the only move possible, away from the Queen. He was not quite so cocky, but neither had he surrendered.

Dane caught at Tau’s sleeve and asked the question which had been burning in him since he had come upon the scene.

“What happened—about the catnip?”

There was lightening of the serious expression on Tau’s face.

“Fortunately for you that child took the leaves to the storm priest. They tested and approved it. And I can’t see that it has any ill effects. But you were just lucky, Thorson—it might have gone another way.”

Dane sighed. “I know that, sir,” he confessed. “I’m not trying to rocket out—”

Tau gave a half-smile. “We all off-fire our tubes at times,” he conceded. “Only next time—”

He did not need to complete that warning as Dane caught him up:

“There isn’t going to be a next time like this, sir—ever!”


Chapter IV

GORP HUNT

But the interruption had disturbed the tenor of trading. The small chief who had so eagerly taken Paft’s place had only two Koros stones to offer and even to Dane’s inexperienced eyes they were inferior in size and color to those the other clan leader had tendered. The Terrans were aware that Koros mining was a dangerous business but they had not known that the stock of available stones was so very small. Within ten minutes the last of the serious bargaining was concluded and the clansmen were drifting away from the burned over space about the Queen’s standing fins.

Dane folded up the bargain cloth, glad for a task. He sensed that he was far from being back in Van Rycke’s good graces. The fact that his superior did not discuss any of the aspects of the deals with him was a bad sign.

Captain Jellico stretched. Although his was not, or never, what might be termed a good-humored face, he was at peace with his world. “That would seem to be all. What’s the haul, Van?”

“Ten first class stones, about fifty second grade, and twenty or so of third. The chiefs will go to the fisheries tomorrow. Then we’ll be in to see the really good stuff.”

“And how’s the herbs holding out?” That interested Dane too. Surely the few plants in the hydro and the dried leaves could not be stretched too far.

“As well as we could expect.” Van Rycke frowned. “But Craig thinks he’s on the trail of something to help—”

The storm priests had uprooted the staff marking the trading station and were wrapping the white streamer about it. Their leader had already gone and now Tau came up to the group by the ramp.

“Van says you have an idea,” the Captain hailed him.

“We haven’t tried it yet. And we can’t unless the priests give it a clear lane—”

“That goes without saying—” Jellico agreed.

The Captain had not addressed that remark to him personally, but Dane was sure it had been directed at him. Well, they needn’t worry—never again was he going to make that mistake, they could be very sure of that.

He was part of the conference which followed in the mess cabin only because he was a member of the crew. How far the reason for his disgrace had spread he had no way of telling, but he made no overtures, even to Rip.

Tau had the floor with Mura as an efficient lieutenant. He discussed the properties of catnip and gave information on the limited supply the Queen carried. Then he launched into a new suggestion.

“Felines of Terra, in fact a great many other of our native mammals, have a similar affinity for this.”

Mura produced a small flask and Tau opened it, passing it to Captain Jellico and so from hand to hand about the room. Each crewman sniffed at the strong aroma. It was a heavier scent than that given off by the crushed catnip—Dane was not sure he liked it. But a moment later Sinbad streaked in from the corridor and committed the unpardonable sin of leaping to the table top just before Mura who had taken the flask from Dane. He miaowed plaintively and clawed at the steward’s cuff. Mura stoppered the flask and put the cat down on the floor.

“What is it?” Jellico wanted to know.

“Anisette, a liquor made from the oil of anise—from seeds of the anise plant. It is a stimulant, but we use it mainly as a condiment. If it is harmless for the Salariki it ought to be a bigger bargaining point than any perfumes or spices, I-S can import. And remember, with their unlimited capital, they can flood the market with products we can’t touch, selling at a loss if need be to cut us out. Because their ship is not going to lift from Sargol just because she has no legal right here.”

“There’s this point,” Van Rycke added to the lecture. “The Eysies are trading or want to trade perfumes. But they stock only manufactured products, exotic stuff, but synthetic.” He took from his belt pouch two tiny boxes.

Before he caught the rich scent of the paste inside them Dane had already identified each as luxury items from Casper—chemical products which sold well and at high prices in the civilized ports of the Galaxy. The Cargo-master turned the boxes over, exposing the symbol on their undersides—the mark of I-S.

“These were offered to me in trade by a Salarik. I took them, just to have proof that the Eysies are operating here. But—note—they were offered to me in trade, along with two top Koros for what? One spoonful of dried catnip leaves. Does that suggest anything?”

Mura answered first. “The Salariki prefer natural products to synthetic.”

“I think so.”

“D’you suppose that was Cam’s secret?” speculated Astrogator Steen Wilcox.

“If it was,” Jellico cut in, “he certainly kept it! If we had only known this earlier—”

They were all thinking of that, of their storage space carefully packed with useless trade goods. Where, if they had known, the same space could have carried herbs with five or twenty-five times as much buying power.

“Maybe now that their sales’ resistance is broken, we can switch to some of the other stuff,” Tang Ya, torn away from his beloved communicators for the conference, said wistfully. “They like color—how about breaking out some rolls of Harlinian moth silk?”

Van Rycke sighed wearily. “Oh, we’ll try. We’ll bring out everything and anything. But we could have done so much better—” he brooded over the tricks of fate which had landed them on a planet wild for trade with no proper trade goods in either of their holds.

There was a nervous little sound of a throat being apologetically cleared. Jasper Weeks, the small wiper from the engine room detail, the third generation Venusian colonist whom the more vocal members of the Queen’s complement were apt to forget upon occasion, seeing all eyes upon him, spoke though his voice was hardly above a hoarse whisper.

“Cedar—lacquel bark—forsh weed—”

“Cinnamon,” Mura added to the list. “Imported in small quantities—”

“Naturally! Only the problem now is—how much cedar, lacquel bark, forsh weed, cinnamon do we have on board?” demanded Van Rycke.

His sarcasm did not register with Weeks for the little man pushed by Dane and left the cabin to their surprise. In the quiet which followed they could hear the clatter of his boots on ladder rungs as he descended to the quarters of the engine room staff. Tang turned to his neighbor, Johan Stotz, the Queen’s Engineer.

“What’s he going for?”

Stotz shrugged. Weeks was a self-effacing man—so much so that even in the cramped quarters of the spacer very little about him as an individual impressed his mates—a fact which was slowly dawning on them all now. Then they heard the scramble of feet hurrying back and Weeks burst in with energy which carried him across to the table behind which the Captain and Van Rycke now sat.

In the wiper’s hands was a plasta-steel box—the treasure chest of a spaceman. Its tough exterior was guaranteed to protect the contents against everything but outright disintegration. Weeks put it down on the table and snapped up the lid.

A new aroma, or aromas, was added to the scents now at war in the cabin. Weeks pulled out a handful of fluffy white stuff which frothed up about his fingers like soap lather. Then with more care he lifted up a tray divided into many small compartments, each with a separate sealing lid of its own. The men of the Queen moved in, their curiosity aroused, until they were jostling one another.

Being tall Dane had an advantage, though Van Rycke’s bulk and the wide shoulders of the Captain were between him and the object they were so intent upon. In each division of the tray, easily seen through the transparent lids, was a carved figure. The weird denizens of the Venusian polar swamps were there, along with lifelike effigies of Terran animals, a Martian sand-mouse in all its monstrous ferocity, and the native animal and reptile life of half a hundred different worlds. Weeks put down a second tray beside the first, again displaying a menagerie of strange life forms. But when he clicked open one of the compartments and handed the figurine it contained to the Captain, Dane understood the reason for now bringing forward the carvings.

The majority of them were fashioned from a dull blue-gray wood and Dane knew that if he picked one up he would discover that it weighed close to nothing in his hand. That was lacquel bark—the aromatic product of a Venusian vine. And each little animal or reptile lay encased in a soft dab of frothy white—frosh weed—the perfumed seed casing of the Martian canal plants. One or two figures on the second tray were of a red-brown wood and these Van Rycke sniffed at appreciatively.

“Cedar—Terran cedar,” he murmured.

Weeks nodded eagerly, his eyes alight. “I am waiting now for sandalwood—it is also good for carving—”

Jellico stared at the array in puzzled wonder. “You have made these?”

Being an amateur xenobiologist of no small standing himself, the shapes of the carvings more than the material from which they fashioned held his attention.

All those on board the Queen had their own hobbies. The monotony of voyaging through hyper-space had long ago impressed upon men the need for occupying both hands and mind during the sterile days while they were forced into close companionship with few duties to keep them alert. Jellico’s cabin was papered with tri-dee pictures of the rare animals and alien creatures he had studied in their native haunts or of which he kept careful and painstaking records. Tau had his magic, Mura not only his plants but the delicate miniature landscapes he fashioned, to be imprisoned forever in the hearts of protecting plasta balls. But Weeks had never shown his work before and now he had an artist’s supreme pleasure of completely confounding his shipmates.

The Cargo-master returned to the business on hand first. “You’re willing to transfer these to ‘cargo’?” he asked briskly. “How many do you have?”

Weeks, now lifting a third and then a fourth tray from the box, replied without looking up.

“Two hundred. Yes, I’ll transfer, sir.”

The Captain was turning about in his fingers the beautifully shaped figure of an Astran duocorn. “Pity to trade these here,” he mused aloud. “Will Paft or Halfer appreciate more than just their scent?”

Weeks smiled shyly. “I’ve filled this case, sir. I was going to offer them to Mr. Van Rycke on a venture. I can always make another set. And right now—well, maybe they’ll be worth more to the Queen, seeing as how they’re made out of aromatic woods, then they’d be elsewhere. Leastwise the Eysies aren’t going to have anything like them to show!” he ended in a burst of honest pride.

“Indeed they aren’t!” Van Rycke gave honor where it was due.

So they made plans and then separated to sleep out the rest of the night. Dane knew that his lapse was not forgotten nor forgiven, but now he was honestly too tired to care and slept as well as if his conscience were clear.

But morning brought only a trickle of lower class clansmen for trading and none of them had much but news to offer. The storm priests, as neutral arbitrators, had divided up the Koros grounds. And the clansmen, under the personal supervision of their chieftains were busy hunting the stones. The Terrans gathered from scraps of information that gem seeking on such a large scale had never been attempted before.

Before night there came other news, and much more chilling. Paft, one of the two major chieftains of this section of Sargol—while supervising the efforts of his liege men on a newly discovered and richly strewn length of shoal water—had been attacked and killed by gorp. The unusual activity of the Salariki in the shallows had in turn drawn to the spot battalions of the intelligent, malignant reptiles who had struck in strength, slaying and escaping before the Salariki could form an adequate defense, having killed the land dwellers’ sentries silently and effectively before advancing on the laboring main bodies of gem hunters.

A loss of a certain number of miners or fishers had been preseen as the price one paid for Koros in quantity. But the death of a chieftain was another thing altogether, having repercussions which carried far beyond the fact of his death. When the news reached the Salariki about the Queen they melted away into the grass forest and for the first time the Terrans felt free of spying eyes.

“What happens now?” Ali inquired. “Do they declare all deals off?”

“That might just be the unfortunate answer,” agreed Van Rycke.

“Could be,” Rip commented to Dane, “that they’d think we were in some way responsible—”

But Dane’s conscience, sensitive over the whole matter of Salariki trade, had already reached that conclusion.

The Terran party, unsure of what were the best tactics, wisely decided to do nothing at all for the time being. But, when the Salariki seemed to have completely vanished on the morning of the second day, the men were restless. Had Paft’s death resulted in some interclan quarrel over the heirship and the other clans withdrawn to let the various contendents for that honor fight it out? Or—what was more probable and dangerous—had the aliens come to the point of view that the Queen was in the main responsible for the catastrophe and were engaged in preparing too warm a welcome for any Traders who dared to visit them?

With the latter idea in mind they did not stray far from the ship. And the limit to their traveling was the edge of the forest from which they could be covered and so they did not learn much.

It was well into the morning before they were dramatically appraised that, far from being considered in any way an enemy, they were about to be accepted in a tie as close as clan to clan during one of the temporary but binding truces.

The messenger came in state, a young Salarik warrior, his splendid cloak rent and hanging in tattered pieces from his shoulders as a sign of his official grief. He carried in one hand a burned out torch, and in the other an unsheathed claw knife, its blade reflecting the sunlight with a wicked glitter. Behind him trotted three couples of retainers, their cloaks also ragged fringes, their knives drawn.

Standing up on the ramp to receive what could only be a formal deputation were Captain, Astrogator, Cargo-master and Engineer, the senior officers of the spacer.

In the rolling periods of the Trade Lingo the torch bearer identified himself as Groft, son and heir of the late lamented Paft. Until his chieftain father was avenged in blood he could not assume the high seat of his clan nor the leadership of the family. And now, following custom, he was inviting the friends and sometimes allies of the dead Paft to a gorp hunt. Such a gorp hunt, Dane gathered from amidst the flowers of ceremonial Salariki speech, as had never been planned before on the face of Sargol. Salariki without number in the past had died beneath the ripping talons of the water reptiles, but it was seldom that a chieftain had so fallen and his clan were firm in their determination to take a full blood price from the killers.

“—and so, sky lords,” Groft brought his oration to a close, “we come to ask that you send your young men to this hunting so that they may know the joy of plunging knives into the scaled death and see the horned ones die bathed in their own vile blood!”

Dane needed no hint from the Queen’s officers that this invitation was a sharp departure from custom. By joining with the natives in such a foray the Terrans were being admitted to kinship of a sort, cementing relations by a tie which the I-S, or any other interloper from off-world, would find hard to break. It was a piece of such excellent good fortune as they would not have dreamed of three days earlier.

Van Rycke replied, his voice properly sonorous, sounding out the rounded periods of the rolling tongue which they had all been taught during the voyage, using Cam’s recording. Yes, the Terrans would join with pleasure in so good and great a cause. They would lend the force of their arms to the defeat of all gorp they had the good fortune to meet. Groft need only name the hour for them to join him—

It was not needful, the young Salariki chieftain-to-be hastened to tell the Cargo-master, that the senior sky lords concern themselves in this matter. In fact it would be against custom, for it was meet that such a hunt be left to warriors of few years, that they might earn glory and be able to stand before the fires at the Naming as men. Therefore—the thumb claw of Groft was extended to its greatest length as he used it to single out the Terrans he had been eyeing—let this one, and that, and that, and the fourth be ready to join with the Salariki party an hour after nooning on this very day and they would indeed teach the slimy, treacherous lurkers in the depths a well needed lesson.

The Salarik’s choice with one exception had unerringly fallen upon the youngest members of the crew, Ali, Rip, and Dane in that order. But his fourth addition had been Jasper Weeks. Perhaps because of his native pallor of skin and slightness of body the oiler had seemed, to the alien, to be younger than his years. At any rate Groft had made it very plain that he chose these men and Dane knew that the Queen’s officers would raise no objection which might upset the delicate balance of favorable relations.

Van Rycke did ask for one concession which was reluctantly granted. He received permission for the spacer’s men to carry their sleep rods. Though the Salariki, apparently for some reason of binding and hoary custom, were totally opposed to hunting their age-old enemy with anything other than their duelists’ weapons of net and claw knife.

“Go along with them,” Captain Jellico gave his final orders to the four, “as long as it doesn’t mean your own necks—understand? On the other hand dead heroes have never helped to lift a ship. And these gorp are tough from all accounts. You’ll just have to use your own judgment about springing your rods on them—” He looked distinctly unhappy at that thought.

Ali was grinning and little Weeks tightened his weapon belt with a touch of swagger he had never shown before. Rip was his usual soft voiced self, dependable as a rock and a good base for the rest of them—taking command without question as they marched off to join Groft’s company.


Chapter V

THE PERILOUS SEAS

The gorp hunters straggled through the grass forest in family groups, and the Terrans saw that the enterprise had forced another uneasy truce upon the district, for there were representatives from more than just Paft’s own clan. All the Salariki were young and the parties babbled together in excitement. It was plain that this hunt, staged upon a large scale, was not only a means of revenge upon a hated enemy but, also, a sporting event of outstanding prestige.

Now the grass trees began to show ragged gaps, open spaces between their clumps, until the forest was only scattered groups and the party the Terrans had joined walked along a trail cloaked in knee-high, yellow-red fern growth. Most of the Salariki carried unlit torches, some having four or five bundled together, as if gorp hunting must be done after nightfall. And it was fairly late in the afternoon before they topped a rise of ground and looked out upon one of Sargol’s seas.

The water was a dull-metallic gray, broken by great swaths of purple as if an artist had slapped a brush of color across it in a hit or miss fashion. Sand of the red grit, lightened by the golden flecks which glittered in the sun, stretched to the edge of the wavelets breaking with only languor on the curve of earth. The bulk of islands arose in serried ranks farther out—crowned with grass trees all rippling under the sea wind.

They came out upon the beach where one of the purple patches touched the shore and Dane noted that it left a scummy deposit there. The Terrans went on to the water’s edge. Where it was clear of the purple stuff they could get a murky glimpse of the bottom, but the scum hid long stretches of shoreline and outer wave, and Dane wondered if the gorp used it as a protective covering.

For the moment the Salariki made no move toward the sea which was to be their hunting ground. Instead the youngest members of the party, some of whom were adolescents not yet entitled to wear the claw knife of manhood, spread out along the shore and set industriously to gathering driftwood, which they brought back to heap on the sand. Dane, watching that harvest, caught sight of a smoothly polished length. He called Weeks’ attention to the water rounded cylinder.

The oiler’s eyes lighted and he stooped to pick it up. Where the other sticks were from grass trees this was something else. And among the bleached pile it had the vividness of flame. For it was a strident scarlet. Weeks turned it over in his hands, running his fingers lovingly across its perfect grain. Even in this crude state it had beauty. He stopped the Salarik who had just brought in another armload of wood.

“This is what?” he spoke the Trade Lingo haltingly.

The native gazed somewhat indifferently at the branch. “Tansil,” he answered. “It grows on the islands—” He made a vague gesture to include a good section of the western sea before he hurried away.

Weeks now went along the tide line on his own quest, Dane trailing him. At the end of a quarter hour when a hail summoned them back to the site of the now lighted fire, they had some ten pieces of the tansil wood between them. The finds ranged from a three foot section some four inches in diameter, to some slender twigs no larger than a writing steelo—but all with high polish, the warm flame coloring. Weeks lashed them together before he joined the group where Groft was outlining the technique of gorp hunting for the benefit of the Terrans.

Some two hundred feet away a reef, often awash and stained with the purple scum, angled out into the sea in a long curve which formed a natural breakwater. This was the point of attack. But first the purple film must be removed so that land and sea dwellers could meet on common terms.

The fire blazed up, eating hungrily into the driftwood. And from it ran the young Salariki with lighted brands, which at the water’s edge they whirled about their heads and then hurled out onto the purple patches. Fire arose from the water and ran with frantic speed across the crests of the low waves, while the Salariki coughed and buried their noses in their perfume boxes, for the wind drove shoreward an overpowering stench.

Where the cleansing fire had run on the water there was now only the natural metallic gray of the liquid, the cover was gone. Older Salariki warriors were choosing torches from those they had brought, doing it with care. Groft approached the Terrans carrying four.

“These you use now—”

What for? Dane wondered. The sky was still sunlit. He held the torch watching to see how the Salariki made use of them.

Groft led the advance—running lightly out along the reef with agile and graceful leaps to cross the breaks where the sea hurled in over the rock. And after him followed the other natives, each with a lighted torch in hand—the torch they hunkered down to plant firmly in some crevice of the rock before taking a stand beside that beacon.

The Terrans, less surefooted in the space boots, picked their way along the same path, wet with spray, wrinkling their noses against the lingering puffs of the stench from the water.

Following the example of the Salariki they faced seaward—but Dane did not know what to watch for. Cam had left only the vaguest general descriptions of gorp and beyond the fact that they were reptilian, intelligent and dangerous, the Terrans had not been briefed.

Once the warriors had taken up their stand along the reef, the younger Salariki went into action once more. Lighting more torches at the fire, they ran out along the line of their elders and flung their torches as far as they could hurl them into the sea outside the reef.

The gray steel of the water was now yellow with the reflection of the sinking sun. But that ocher and gold became more brilliant yet as the torches of the Salariki set blazing up far floating patches of scum. Dane shielded his eyes against the glare and tried to watch the water, with some idea that this move must be provocation and what they hunted would so be driven into view.

He held his sleep rod ready, just as the Salarik on his right had claw knife in one hand and in the other, open and waiting, the net intended to entangle and hold fast a victim, binding him for the kill.

But it was at the far tip of the barrier—the post of greatest honor which Groft had jealously claimed as his, that the gorp struck first. At a wild shout of defiance Dane half turned to see the Salarik noble cast his net at sea level and then stab viciously with a well practiced blow. When he raised his arm for a second thrust, greenish ichor ran from the blade down his wrist.

“Dane!”

Thorson’s head jerked around. He saw the vee of ripples headed straight for the rocks where he balanced.

But he’d have to wait for a better target than a moving wedge of water. Instinctively he half crouched in the stance of an embattled spaceman, wishing now that he did have a blaster.

Neither of the Salariki stationed on either side of him made any move and he guessed that was hunt etiquette. Each man was supposed to face and kill the monster that challenged him—without assistance. And upon his skill during the next few minutes might rest the reputation of all Terrans as far as the natives were concerned.

There was a shadow outline beneath the surface of the metallic water now, but he could not see well because of the distortion of the murky waves. He must wait until he was sure.

Then the thing gave a spurt and, only inches beyond the toes of his boots, a nightmare creature sprang halfway out of the water, pincher claws as long as his own arms snapping at him. Without being conscious of his act, he pressed the stud of the sleep rod, aiming in the general direction of that horror from the sea.

But to his utter amazement the creature did not fall supinely back into watery world from which it had emerged. Instead those claws snapped again, this time scrapping across the top of Dane’s foot, leaving a furrow in material the keenest of knives could not have scored.

“Give it to him!” That was Rip shouting encouragement from his own place farther along the reef.

Dane pressed the firing stud again and again. The claws waved as the monstrosity slavered from a gaping frog’s mouth, a mouth which was fanged with a shark’s vicious teeth. It was almost wholly out of the water, creeping on a crab’s many legs, with a clawed upper limb reaching for him, when suddenly it stopped, its huge head turning from side to side in the sheltering carapace of scaled natural armor. It settled back as if crouching for a final spring—a spring which would push Dane into the ocean.

But that attack never came. Instead the gorp drew in upon itself until it resembled an unwieldy ball of indestructible armor and there it remained.

The Salariki on either side of Dane let out cries of triumph and edged closer. One of them twirled his net suggestively, seeing that the Terran lacked what was to him an essential piece of hunting equipment. Dane nodded vigorously in agreement and the tough strands swung out in a skillful cast which engulfed the motionless creature on the reef. But it was so protected by its scales that there was no opening for the claw knife. They had made a capture but they could not make a kill.

However, the Salariki were highly delighted. And several abandoned their posts to help the boys drag the monster ashore where it was pinned down to the beach by stakes driven through the edges of the net.

But the hunting party was given little time to gloat over this stroke of fortune. The gorp killed by Groft and the one stunned by Dane were only the van of an army and within moments the hunters on the reef were confronted by trouble armed with slashing claws and diabolic fighting ability.

The battle was anything but one-sided. Dane whirled, as the air was rent by a shriek of agony, just in time to see one of the Salariki, already torn by the claws of a gorp, being drawn under the water. It was too late to save the hunter, though Dane, balanced on the very edge of the reef, aimed a beam into the bloody waves. If the gorp was affected by this attack he could not tell, for both attacker and victim could no longer be seen.

But Ali had better luck in rescuing the Salarik who shared his particular section of reef, and the native, gashed and spurting blood from a wound in his thigh, was hauled to safety. While the gorp, coiling too slowly under the Terran ray, was literally hewn to pieces by the revengeful knives of the hunter’s kin.

The fight broke into a series of individual duels carried on now by the light of the torches as the evening closed in. The last of the purple patches had burned away to nothing. Dane crouched by his standard torch, his eyes fastened on the sea, watching for an ominous vee of ripples betraying another gorp on its way to launch against the rock barrier.

There was such wild confusion along that line of water sprayed rocks that he had no idea of how the engagement was going. But so far the gorp showed no signs of having had enough.

Dane was shaken out of his absorption by another scream. One, he was sure, which had not come from any Salariki throat. He got to his feet. Rip was stationed four men beyond him. Yes, the tall Astrogator-apprentice was there, outlined against torch flare. Ali? No—there was the assistant Engineer. Weeks? But Weeks was picking his way back along the reef toward the shore, haste expressed in every line of his figure. The scream sounded for a second time, freezing the Terrans.

“Come back—!” That was Weeks gesturing violently at the shore and something floundering in the protecting circle of the reef. The younger Salariki who had been feeding the fire were now clustered at the water’s edge.

Ali ran and with a leap covered the last few feet, landing reckless knee deep in the waves. Dane saw light strike on his rod as he swung it in a wide arc to center on the struggle churning the water into foam. A third scream died to a moan and then the Salariki dashed into the sea, their nets spread, drawing back with them through the surf a dark and now quiet mass.

The fact that at least one gorp had managed to get on the inner side of the reef made an impression on the rest of the native hunters. After an uncertain minute or two Groft gave the signal to withdraw—which they did with grisly trophies. Dane counted seven gorp bodies—which did not include the prisoner ashore. And more might have slid into the sea to die. On the other hand two Salariki were dead—one had been drawn into the sea before Dane’s eyes—and at least one was badly wounded. But who had been pulled down in the shallows—some one sent out from the Queen with a message?

Dane raced back along the reef, not waiting to pull up his torch, and before he reached the shore Rip was overtaking him. But the man who lay groaning on the sand was not from the Queen. The torn and bloodstained tunic covering his lacerated shoulders had the I-S badge. Ali was already at work on his wounds, giving temporary first aid from his belt kit. To all their questions he was stubbornly silent—either he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

In the end they helped the Salariki rig three stretchers. On one the largest, the captive gorp, still curled in a round carapace protected ball, was bound with the net. The second supported the wounded Salarik clansman and onto the third the Terrans lifted the I-S man.

“We’ll deliver him to his own ship,” Rip decided. “He must have tailed us here as a spy—” He asked a passing Salarik as to where they could find the Company spacer.

“They might just think we are responsible,” Ali pointed out. “But I see your point. If we do pack him back to the Queen and he doesn’t make it, they might say that we fired his rockets for him. All right, boys, let’s up-ship—he doesn’t look too good to me.”

With a torch-bearing Salarik boy as a guide, they hurried along a path taking in turns the burden of the stretcher. Luckily the I-S ship was even closer to the sea than the Queen and as they crossed the slagged ground, congealed by the break fire, they were trotting.

Though the Company ship was probably one of the smallest Inter-Solar carried on her rosters, it was a third again as large as the Queen—with part of that third undoubtedly dedicated to extra cargo space. Beside her their own spacer would seem not only smaller, but battered and worn. But no Free Trader would have willingly assumed the badges of a Company man, not even for the command of such a ship fresh from the cradles of a builder.

When a man went up from the training Pool for his first assignment, he was sent to the ship where his temperament, training and abilities best fitted. And those who were designated as Free Traders would never fit into the pattern of Company men. Of late years the breech between those who lived under the strict parental control of one of the five great galaxy wide organizations and those still too much of an individual to live any life but that of a half-explorer-half-pioneer which was the Free Trader’s, had widened alarmingly. Antagonism flared, rivalry was strong. But as yet the great Companies themselves were at polite cold war with one another for the big plums of the scattered systems. The Free Traders took the crumbs and there was not much disputing—save in cases such as had arisen on Sargol, when suddenly crumbs assumed the guise of very rich cake, rich and large enough to attract a giant.

The party from the Queen was given a peremptory challenge as they reached the other ship’s ramp. Rip demanded to see the officer of the watch and then told the story of the wounded man as far as they knew it. The Eysie was hurried aboard—nor did his shipmates give a word of thanks.

“That’s that.” Rip shrugged. “Let’s go before they slam the hatch so hard they’ll rock their ship off her fins!”

“Polite, aren’t they?” asked Weeks mildly.

“What do you expect of Eysies?” Ali wanted to know. “To them Free Traders are just rim planet trash. Let’s report back where we are appreciated.”

They took a short cut which brought them back to the Queen and they filed up her ramp to make their report to the Captain.

But they were not yet satisfied with Groft and his gorp slayers. No Salarik appeared for trade in the morning—surprising the Terrans. Instead a second delegation, this time of older men and a storm priest, visited the spacer with an invitation to attend Paft’s funeral feast, a rite which would be followed by the formal elevation of Groft to his father’s position, now that he had revenged that parent. And from remarks dropped by members of the delegation it was plain that the bearing of the Terrans who had joined the hunting party was esteemed to have been in highest accord with Salariki tradition.

They drew lots to decide which two must remain with the ship and the rest perfumed themselves so as to give no offense which might upset their now cordial relations. Again it was mid-afternoon when the Salariki escort sent to do them honor waited at the edge of the wood and Mura and Tang saw them off. With a herald booming before them, they traveled the beaten earth road in the opposite direction from the trading center, off through the forest until they came to a wide section of several miles which had been rigorously cleared of any vegetation which might give cover to a lurking enemy. In the center of this was a twelve-foot-high stockade of the bright red, burnished wood which had attracted Weeks on the shore. Each paling was the trunk of a tree and it had been sharpened at the top to a wicked point. On the field side was a wide ditch, crossed at the gate by a bridge, the planking of which might be removed at will. And as Dane passed over he looked down into the moat that was dry. The Salariki did not depend upon water for a defense—but on something else which his experience of the previous night had taught him to respect. There was no mistaking that shade of purple. The highly inflammable scum the hunters had burnt from the top of the waves had been brought inland and lay a greasy blanket some eight feet below. It would only be necessary to toss a torch on that and the defenders of the stockade would create a wall of fire to baffle any attackers. The Salariki knew how to make the most of their world’s natural resources.


Chapter VI

DUELIST’S CHALLENGE

Inside the red stockade there was a crowded community. The Salariki demanded privacy of a kind, and even the unmarried warriors did not share barracks, but each had a small cubicle of his own. So that the mud brick and timber erections of one of their clan cities resembled nothing so much as the comb cells of a busy beehive. Although Paft’s was considered a large clan, it numbered only about two hundred fighting men and their numerous wives, children and captive servants. Not all of them normally lived at this center, but for the funeral feasting they had assembled—which meant a lot of doubling up and tenting out under makeshift cover between the regular buildings of the town. So that the Terrans were glad to be guided through this crowded maze to the Great Hall which was its heart.

As the trading center had been, the hall was a circular enclosure open to the sky above but divided in wheel-spoke fashion with posts of the red wood, each supporting a metal basket filled with imflammable material. Here were no lowly stools or trading tables. One vast circular board, broken only by a gap at the foot, ran completely around the wall. At the end opposite the entrance was the high chair of the chieftain, set on a two step dais. Though the feast had not yet officially begun, the Terrans saw that the majority of the places were already occupied.

They were led around the perimeter of the enclosure to places not far from the high seat. Van Rycke settled down with a grunt of satisfaction. It was plain that the Free Traders were numbered among the nobility. They could be sure of good trade in the days to come.

Delegations from neighboring clans arrived in close companies of ten or twelve and were granted seats, as had been the Terrans, in groups. Dane noted that there was no intermingling of clan with clan. And, as they were to understand later that night, there was a very good reason for that precaution.

“Hope all our adaption shots work,” Ali murmured, eyeing with no pleasure at all the succession of platters now being borne through the inner opening of the table.

While the Traders had learned long ago that the wisest part of valor was not to sample alien strong drinks, ceremony often required that they break bread (or its other world equivalent) on strange planets. And so science served expediency and now a Trader bound for any Galactic banquet was immunized, as far as was medically possible, against the evil consequences of consuming food not originally intended for Terran stomachs. One of the results being that Traders acquired a far flung reputation of possessing bird-like appetites—since it was always better to nibble and live, than to gorge and die.

Groft had not yet taken his place in the vacant chieftain’s chair. For the present he stood in the center of the table circle, directing the captive slaves who circulated with the food. Until the magic moment when the clan themselves would proclaim their overlord, he remained merely the eldest son of the house, relatively without power.

As the endless rows of platters made their way about the table the basket lights on the tops of the pillars were ignited, dispelling the dusk of evening. And there was an attendant stationed by each to throw on handsful of aromatic bark which burned with puffs of lavender smoke, adding to the many warring scents. The Terrans had recourse at intervals to their own pungent smelling bottles, merely to clear their heads of the drugging fumes.

Luckily, Dane thought as the feast proceeded, that smoke from the braziers went straight up. Had they been in a roofed space they might have been overcome. As it was—were they entirely conscious of all that was going on around them?

His reason for that speculation was the dance now being performed in the center of the hall—their fight with the gorp being enacted in a series of bounds and stabbings. He was sure that he could no longer trust his eyes when the claw knife of the victorious dancer-hunter apparently passed completely through the chest of another wearing a grotesque monster mask.

As a fitting climax to their horrific display, three of the men who had been with them on the reef entered, dragging behind them—still enmeshed in the hunting net—the gorp which Dane had stunned. It was uncurled now and very much alive, but the pincer claws which might have cut its way to safety were encased in balls of hard substance.

Freed from the net, suspended by its sealed claws, the gorp swung back and forth from a standard set up before the high seat. Its murderous jaws snapped futilely, and from it came an enraged snake’s vicious hissing. Though totally in the power of its enemies it gave an impression of terrifying strength and menace.

The sight of their ancient foe aroused the Salariki, inflaming warriors who leaned across the table to hurl tongue-twisting invective at the captive monster. Dane gathered that seldom had a living gorp been delivered helpless into their hands and they proposed to make the most of this wonderful opportunity. And the Terran suddenly wished the monstrosity had fallen back into the sea. He had no soft thoughts for the gorp after what he had seen at the reef and the tales he had heard, but neither did he like what he saw now expressed in gestures, heard in the tones of voices about them.

A storm priest put an end to the outcries. His dun cloak making a spot of darkness amid all the flashing color, he came straight to the place where the gorp swung. As he took his stand before the wriggling creature the din gradually faded, the warriors settled back into their seats, a pool of quiet spread through the enclosure.

Groft came up to take his position beside the priest. With both hands he carried a two handled cup. It was not the ornamented goblet which stood before each diner, but a manifestly older artifact, fashioned of some dull black substance and having the appearance of being even older than the hall or town.

One of the warriors who had helped to bring in the gorp now made a quick and accurate cast with a looped rope, snaring the monster’s head and pulling back almost at a right angle. With deliberation the storm priest produced a knife—the first straight bladed weapon Dane had seen on Sargol. He made a single thrust in the soft underpart of the gorp’s throat, catching in the cup he took from Groft some of the ichor which spurted from the wound.

The gorp thrashed madly, spattering table and surrounding Salariki with its life fluid, but the attention of the crowd was riveted elsewhere. Into the old cup the priest poured another substance from a flask brought by an underling. He shook the cup back and forth, as if to mix its contents thoroughly and then handed it to Groft.

Holding it before him the young chieftain leaped to the table top and so to stand before the high seat. There was a hush throughout the enclosure. Now even the gorp had ceased its wild struggles and hung limp in its bonds.

Groft raised the cup above his head and gave a loud shout in the archaic language of his clan. He was answered by a chant from the warriors who would in battle follow his banner, chant punctuated with the clinking slap of knife blades brought down forcibly on the board.

Three times he recited some formula and was answered by the others. Then, in another period of sudden quiet, he raised the cup to his lips and drank off its contents in a single draught, turning the goblet upside down when he had done to prove that not a drop remained within. A shout tore through the great hall. The Salariki were all on their feet, waving their knives over their heads in honor to their new ruler. And Groft for the first time seated himself in the high seat. The clan was no longer without a chieftain. Groft held his father’s place.

“Show over?” Dane heard Stotz murmur and Van Rycke’s disappointing reply:

“Not yet. They’ll probably make a night of it. Here comes another round of drinks—”

“And trouble with them,”—that was Captain Jellico being prophetic.

“By the Coalsack’s Ripcord!” That exclamation had been jolted out of Rip and Dane turned to see what had so jarred the usually serene Astrogator-apprentice. He was just in time to witness an important piece of Sargolian social practice.

A young warrior, surely only within a year or so of receiving his knife, was facing an older Salarik, both on their feet. The head and shoulder fur of the older fighter was dripping wet and an empty goblet rolled across the table to bump to the floor. A hush had fallen on the immediate neighbors of the pair, and there was an air of expectancy about the company.

“Threw his drink all over the other fellow,” Rip’s soft whisper explained. “That means a duel—”

“Here and now?” Dane had heard of the personal combat proclivities of the Salariki.

“Should be to the death for an insult such as that,” Ali remarked, as usual surveying the scene from his chosen role as bystander. As a child he had survived the unspeakable massacres of the Crater War, nothing had been able to crack his surface armor since.

“The young fool!” that was Steen Wilcox sizing up the situation from the angle of a naturally cautious nature and some fifteen years of experience on a great many different worlds. “He’ll be mustered out for good before he knows what happened to him!”

The younger Salarik had barked a question at his elder and had been promptly answered by that dripping warrior. Now their neighbors came to life with an efficiency which suggested that they had been waiting for such a move, it had happened so many times that every man knew just the right procedure from that point on.

In order for a Sargolian feast to be a success, the Terrans gathered from overheard remarks, at least one duel must be staged sometime during the festivities. And those not actively engaged did a lot of brisk betting in the background.

“Look there—at that fellow in the violet cloak,” Rip directed Dane. “See what he just laid down?”

The nobleman in the violet cloak was not one of Groft’s liege men, but a member of the delegation from another clan. And what he had laid down on the table—indicating as he did so his choice as winner in the coming combat, the elder warrior—was a small piece of white material on which reposed a slightly withered but familiar leaf. The neighbor he wagered with, eyed the stake narrowly, bending over to sniff at it, before he piled up two gem set armlets, a personal scent box and a thumb ring to balance.

At this practical indication of just how much the Terran herb was esteemed Dane regretted anew their earlier ignorance. He glanced along the board and saw that Van Rycke had noted that stake and was calling their Captain’s attention to it.

But such side issues were forgotten as the duelists vaulted into the circle rimmed by the table, a space now vacated for their action. They were stripped to their loin cloths, their cloaks thrown aside. Each carried his net in his right hand, his claw knife ready in his left. As yet the Traders had not seen Salarik against Salarik in action and in spite of themselves they edged forward in their seats, as intent as the natives upon what was to come. The finer points of the combat were lost on them, and they did not understand the drilled casts of the net, which had become as formalized through the centuries as the ancient and now almost forgotten sword play of their own world. The young Salarik had greater agility and speed, but the veteran who faced him had the experience.

To Terran eyes the duel had some of the weaving, sweeping movements of the earlier ritual dance. The swift evasions of the nets were graceful and so timed that many times the meshes grazed the skin of the fighter who fled entrapment.

Dane believed that the elder man was tiring, and the youngster must have shared that opinion. There was a leap to the right, a sudden flurry of dart and retreat, and then a net curled high and fell, enfolding flailing arms and kicking legs. When the clutch rope was jerked tight, the captured youth was thrown off balance. He rolled frenziedly, but there was no escaping the imprisoning strands.

A shout applauded the victor. He stood now above his captive who lay supine, his throat or breast ready for either stroke of the knife his captor wished to deliver. But it appeared that the winner was not minded to end the encounter with blood. Instead he reached out a long, befurred arm, took up a filled goblet from the table and with serious deliberation, poured its contents onto the upturned face of the loser.

For a moment there was a dead silence around the feast board and then a second roar, to which the honestly relieved Terrans added spurts of laughter. The sputtering youth was shaken free of the net and went down on his knees, tendering his opponent his knife, which the other thrust along with his own into his sash belt. Dane gathered from overheard remarks that the younger man was, for a period of time, to be determined by clan council, now the servant-slave of his overthrower and that since they were closely united by blood ties, this solution was considered eminently suitable—though had the elder killed his opponent, no one would have thought the worse of him for that deed.

It was the Queen’s men who were to provide the next center of attraction. Groft climbed down from his high seat and came to face across the board those who had accompanied him on the hunt. This time there was no escaping the sipping of the potent drink which the new chieftain slopped from his own goblet into each of theirs.

The fiery mouthful almost gagged Dane, but he swallowed manfully and hoped for the best as it burned like acid down his throat into his middle, there to mix uncomfortably with the viands he had eaten. Weeks’ thin face looked very white, and Dane noticed with malicious enjoyment, that Ali had an unobtrusive grip on the table which made his knuckles stand out in polished knobs—proving that there were things which could upset the imperturbable Kamil.

Fortunately they were not required to empty that flowing bowl in one gulp as Groft had done. The ceremonial mouthful was deemed enough and Dane sat down thankfully—but with uneasy fears for the future.

Groft had started back to his high seat when there was an interruption which had not been foreseen. A messenger threaded his way among the serving men and spoke to the chieftain, who glanced at the Terrans and then nodded.

Dane, his queasiness growing every second, was not attending until he heard a bitten off word from Rip’s direction and looked up to see a party of I-S men coming into the open space before the high seat. The men from the Queen stiffened—there was something in the attitude of the newcomers which hinted at trouble.

“What do you wish, sky lords?” That was Groft using the Trade Lingo, his eyes half closed as he lolled in his chair of state, almost as if he were about to witness some entertainment provided for his pleasure.

“We wish to offer you the good fortune desires of our hearts—” That was Kallee, the flowery words rolling with the proper accent from his tongue. “And that you shall not forget us—we also offer gifts—”

At a gesture from their Cargo-master, the I-S men set down a small chest. Groft, his chin resting on a clenched fist, lost none of his lazy air.

“They are received,” he retorted with the formal acceptance. “And no one can have too much good fortune. The Howlers of the Black Winds know that.” But he tendered no invitation to join the feast.

Kallee did not appear to be disconcerted. His next move was one which took his rivals by surprise, in spite of their suspicions.

“Under the laws of the Fellowship, O, Groft,” he clung to the formal speech, “I claim redress—”

Ali’s hand moved. Through his growing distress Dane saw Van Rycke’s jaw tighten, the fighting mask snap back on Captain Jellico’s face. Whatever came now was real trouble.

Groft’s eyes flickered over the party from the Queen. Though he had just pledged cup friendship with four of them, he had the malicious humor of his race. He would make no move to head off what might be coming.

“By the right of the knife and the net,” he intoned, “you have the power to claim personal satisfaction. Where is your enemy?”

Kallee turned to face the Free Traders. “I hereby challenge a champion to be set out from these off-worlders to meet by the blood and by the water my champion—”

The Salariki were getting excited. This was superb entertainment, an engagement such as they had never hoped to see—alien against alien. The rising murmur of their voices was like the growl of a hunting beast.

Groft smiled and the pleasure that expression displayed was neither Terran—nor human. But then the clan leader was not either, Dane reminded himself.

“Four of these warriors are clan-bound,” he said. “But the others may produce a champion—”

Dane looked along the line of his comrades—Ali, Rip, Weeks and himself had just been ruled out. That left Jellico, Van Rycke, Karl Kosti, the giant jetman whose strength they had to rely upon before, Stotz the Engineer, Medic Tau and Steen Wilcox. If it were strength alone he would have chosen Kosti, but the big man was not too quick a thinker—

Jellico got to his feet, the embodiment of a star lane fighting man. In the flickering light the scar on his cheek seemed to ripple. “Who’s your champion?” he asked Kallee.

The Eysie Cargo-master was grinning. He was confident he had pushed them into a position from which they could not extricate themselves.

“You accept challenge?” he countered.

Jellico merely repeated his question and Kallee beckoned forward one of his men.

The Eysie who stepped up was no match for Kosti. He was a slender, almost wand-slim young man, whose pleased smirk said that he, too, was about to put something over on the notorious Free Traders. Jellico studied him for a couple of long seconds during which the hum of Salariki voices was the threatening buzz of a disturbed wasps’ nest. There was no way out of this—to refuse conflict was to lose all they had won with the clansmen. And they did not doubt that Kallee had, in some way, triggered the scales against them.

Jellico made the best of it. “We accept challenge,” his voice was level. “We, being guesting in Groft’s holding, will fight after the manner of the Salariki who are proven warriors—” He paused as roars of pleased acknowledgment arose around the board.

“Therefore let us follow the custom of warriors and take up the net and the knife—”

Was there a shade of dismay on Kallee’s face?

“And the time?” Groft leaned forward to ask—but his satisfaction at such a fine ending for his feast was apparent. This would be talked over by every Sargolian for many storm seasons to come!

Jellico glanced up at the sky. “Say an hour after dawn, chieftain. With your leave, we shall confer concerning a champion.”

“My council room is yours,” Groft signed for a liege man to guide them.


Chapter VII

BARRING ACCIDENT

The morning winds rustled through the grass forest and, closer to hand, it pulled at the cloaks of the Salariki. Clan nobles sat on stools, lesser folk squatted on the trampled stubble of the cleared ground outside the stockade. In their many colored splendor the drab tunics of the Terrans were a blot of darkness at either end of the makeshift arena which had been marked out for them.

At the conclusion of their conference the Queen’s men had been forced into a course Jellico had urged from the first. He, and he alone, would represent the Free Traders in the coming duel. And now he stood there in the early morning, stripped down to shorts and boots, wearing nothing on which a net could catch and so trap him. The Free Traders were certain that the I-S men having any advantage would press it to the ultimate limit and the death of Captain Jellico would make a great impression on the Salariki.

Jellico was taller than the Eysie who faced him, but almost as lean. Hard muscles moved under his skin, pale where space tan had not burned in the years of his star voyaging. And his every movement was with the liquid grace of a man who, in his time, had been a master of the force blade. Now he gripped in his left hand the claw knife given him by Groft himself and in the other he looped the throwing rope of the net.

At the other end of the field, the Eysie man was industriously moving his bootsoles back and forth across the ground, intent upon coating them with as much of the gritty sand as would adhere. And he displayed the supreme confidence in himself which he had shown at the moment of challenge in the Great Hall.

None of the Free Trading party made the mistake of trying to give Jellico advice. The Captain had not risen to his command without learning his duties. And the duties of a Free Trader covered a wide range of knowledge and practice. One had to be equally expert with a blaster and a slingshot when the occasion demanded. Though Jellico had not fought a Salariki duel with net and knife before, he had a deep memory of other weapons, other tactics which could be drawn upon and adapted to his present need.

There was none of the casual atmosphere which had surrounded the affair between the Salariki clansmen in the hall. Here was ceremony. The storm priests invoked their own particular grim Providence, and there was an oath taken over the weapons of battle. When the actual engagement began the betting among the spectators had reached, Dane decided, epic proportions. Large sections of Sargolian personal property were due to change hands as a result of this encounter.

As the chief priest gave the order to engage both Terrans advanced from their respective ends of the fighting space with the half crouching, light footed tread of spacemen. Jellico had pulled his net into as close a resemblance to rope as its bulk would allow. The very type of weapon, so far removed from any the Traders knew, made it a disadvantage rather than an asset.

But it was when the Eysie moved out to meet the Captain that Rip’s fingers closed about Dane’s upper arm in an almost paralyzing grip.

“He knows—”

Dane had not needed that bad news to be made vocal. Having seen the exploits of the Salariki duelists earlier, he had already caught the significance of that glide, of the way the I-S champion carried his net. The Eysie had not had any last minute instruction in the use of Sargolian weapons—he had practiced and, by his stance, knew enough to make him a formidable menace. The clamor about the Queen’s party rose as the battle-wise eyes of the clansmen noted that and the odds against Jellico reached fantastic heights while the hearts of his crew sank.

Only Van Rycke was not disturbed. Now and then he raised his smelling bottle to his nose with an elegant gesture which matched those of the befurred nobility around him, as if not a thought of care ruffled his mind.

The Eysie feinted in a opening which was a rather ragged copy of the young Salarik’s more fluid moves some hours before. But, when the net settled, Jellico was simply not there, his quick drop to one knee had sent the mesh flailing in an arc over his bowed shoulders with a good six inches to spare. And a cry of approval came not only from his comrades, but from those natives who had been gamblers enough to venture their wagers on his performance.

Dane watched the field and the fighters through a watery film. The discomfort he had experienced since downing that mouthful of the cup of friendship had tightened into a fist of pain clutching his middle in a torturing grip. But he knew he must stick it out until Jellico’s ordeal was over. Someone stumbled against him and he glanced up to see Ali’s face, a horrible gray-green under the tan, close to his own. For a moment the Engineer-apprentice caught at his arm for support and then with a visible effort straightened up. So he wasn’t the only one—He looked for Rip and Weeks and saw that they, too, were ill.

But for a moment all that mattered was the stretch of trampled earth and the two men facing each other. The Eysie made another cast and this time, although Jellico was not caught, the slap of the mesh raised a red welt on his forearm. So far the Captain had been content to play the defensive role of retreat, studying his enemy, planning ahead.

The Eysie plainly thought the game his, that he had only to wait for a favorable moment and cinch the victory. Dane began to think it had gone on for weary hours. And he was dimly aware that the Salariki were also restless. One or two shouted angrily at Jellico in their own tongue.

The end came suddenly. Jellico lost his footing, stumbled, and went down. But before his men could move, the Eysie champion bounded forward, his net whirling out. Only he never reached the Captain. In the very act of falling Jellico had pulled his legs under him so that he was not supine but crouched, and his net swept but at ground level, clipping the I-S man about the shins, entangling his feet so that he crashed heavily to the sod and lay still.

“The whip—that Lalox whip trick!” Wilcox’s voice rose triumphantly above the babble of the crowd. Using his net as if it had been a thong, Jellico had brought down the Eysie with a move the other had not foreseen.

Breathing hard, sweat running down his shoulders and making tracks through the powdery red dust which streaked him, Jellico got to his feet and walked over to the I-S champion who had not moved or made a sound since his fall. The Captain went down on one knee to examine him.

“Kill! Kill!” That was the Salariki, all their instinctive savagery aroused.

But Jellico spoke to Groft. “By our customs we do not kill the conquered. Let his friends bear him hence.” He took the claw knife the Eysie still clutched in his hand and thrust it into his own belt. Then he faced the I-S party and Kallee.

“Take your man and get out!” The rein he had kept on his temper these past days was growing very thin. “You’ve made your last play here.”

Kallee’s thick lips drew back in something close to a Salarik snarl. But neither he nor his men made any reply. They bundled up their unconscious fighter and disappeared.

Of their own return to the sanctuary of the Queen Dane had only the dimmest of memories afterwards. He had made the privacy of the forest road before he yielded to the demands of his outraged interior. And after that he had stumbled along with Van Rycke’s hand under his arm, knowing from other miserable sounds that he was not alone in his torment.

It was some time later, months he thought when he first roused, that he found himself lying in his bunk, feeling very weak and empty as if a large section of his middle had been removed, but also at peace with his world. As he levered himself up the cabin had a nasty tendency to move slowly to the right as if he were a pivot on which it swung, and he had all the sensations of being in free fall though the Queen was still firmly planeted. But that was only a minor discomfort compared to the disturbance he remembered.

Fed the semi-liquid diet prescribed by Tau and served up by Mura to him and his fellow sufferers, he speedily got back his strength. But it had been a close call, he did not need Tau’s explanation to underline that. Weeks had suffered the least of the four, he the most—though none of them had had an easy time. And they had been out of circulation three days.

“The Eysie blasted last night,” Rip informed him as they lounged in the sun on the ramp, sharing the blessed lazy hours of invalidism.

But somehow that news gave Dane no lift of spirit. “I didn’t think they’d give up—”

Rip shrugged. “They may be off to make a dust-off before the Board. Only, thanks to Van and the Old Man, we’re covered all along the line. There’s nothing they can use against us to break our contract. And now we’re in so solid they can’t cut us out with the Salariki. Groft asked the Captain to teach him that trick with the net. I didn’t know the Old Man knew Lalox whip fighting—it’s about one of the nastiest ways to get cut to pieces in this universe—”

“How’s trade going?”

Rip’s sunniness clouded. “Supplies have given out. Weeks had an idea—but it won’t bring in Koros. That red wood he’s so mad about, he’s persuaded Van to stow some in the cargo holds since we have enough Koros stones to cover the voyage. Luckily the clansmen will take ordinary trade goods in exchange for that and Weeks thinks it will sell on Terra. It’s tough enough to turn a steel knife blade and yet it is light and easy to handle when it’s cured. Queer stuff and the color’s interesting. That stockade of it planted around Groft’s town has been up close to a hundred years and not a sign of rot in a log of it!”

“Where is Van?”

“The storm priests sent for him. Some kind of a gabble-fest on the star-star level, I gather. Otherwise we’re almost ready to blast. And we know what kind of cargo to bring next time.”

They certainly did, Dane agreed. But he was not to idle away his morning. An hour later a caravan came out of the forest, a line of complaining, burdened orgels, their tiny heads hanging low as they moaned their woes, the hard life which sent them on their sluggish way with piles of red logs lashed to their broad toads’ backs. Weeks was in charge of the procession and Dane went to work with the cargo plan Van had left, seeing that the brilliant scarlet lengths were hoist into the lower cargo hatch and stacked according to the science of stowage. He discovered that Rip had been right, the wood for all its incredible hardness was light of weight. Weak as he still was he could lift and stow a full sized log with no great difficulty. And he thought Weeks was correct in thinking that it would sell on their home world. The color was novel, the durability an asset—it would not make fortunes as the Koros stones might, but every bit of profit helped and this cargo might cover their fielding fees on Terra.

Sinbad was in the cargo space when the first of the logs came in. With his usual curiosity the striped tom cat prowled along the wood, sniffing industriously. Suddenly he stopped short, spat and backed away, his spine fur a roughened crest. Having backed as far as the inner door he turned and slunk out. Puzzled, Dane gave the wood a swift inspection. There were no cracks or crevices in the smooth surfaces, but as he stopped over the logs he became conscious of a sharp odor. So this was one scent of the perfumed planet Sinbad did not like. Dane laughed. Maybe they had better have Weeks make a gate of the stuff and slip it across the ramp, keeping Sinbad on ship board. Odd—it wasn’t an unpleasant odor—at least to him it wasn’t—just sharp and pungent. He sniffed again and was vaguely surprised to discover that it was less noticeable now. Perhaps the wood when taken out of the sunlight lost its scent.

They packed the lower hold solid in accordance with the rules of stowage and locked the hatch before Van Rycke returned from his meeting with the storm priests. When the Cargo-master came back he was followed by two servants bearing between them a chest.

But there was something in Van Rycke’s attitude, apparent to those who knew him best, that proclaimed he was not too well pleased with his morning’s work. Sparing the feelings of the accompanying storm priests about the offensiveness of the spacer Captain Jellico and Steen Wilcox went out to receive them in the open. Dane watched from the hatch, aware that in his present pariah-hood it would not be wise to venture closer.

The Terran Traders were protesting some course of action that the Salariki were firmly insistent upon. In the end the natives won and Kosti was summoned to carry on board the chest which the servants had brought. Having seen it carried safely inside the spacer, the aliens departed, but Van Rycke was frowning and Jellico’s fingers were beating a tattoo on his belt as they came up the ramp.

“I don’t like it,” Jellico stated as he entered.

“It was none of my doing,” Van Rycke snapped. “I’ll take risks if I have to—but there’s something about this one—” he broke off, two deep lines showing between his thick brows. “Well, you can’t teach a sasseral to spit,” he ended philosophically. “We’ll have to do the best we can.”

But Jellico did not look at all happy as he climbed to the control section. And before the hour was out the reason for the Captain’s uneasiness was common property throughout the ship.

Having sampled the delights of off-world herbs, the Salariki were determined to not be cut off from their source of supply. Six Terran months from the present Sargolian date would come the great yearly feast of the Fifty Storms, and the priests were agreed that this year their influence and power would be doubled if they could offer the devout certain privileges in the form of Terran plants. Consequently they had produced and forced upon the reluctant Van Rycke the Koros collection of their order, with instructions that it be sold on Terra and the price returned to them in the precious seeds and plants. In vain the Cargo-master and Captain had pointed out that Galactic trade was a chancy thing at the best, that accident might prevent return of the Queen to Sargol. But the priests had remained adamant and saw in all such arguments only a devious attempt to raise prices. They quoted in their turn the information they had levered out of the Company men—that Traders had their code and that once pay had been given in advance the contract must be fulfilled. They, and they alone, wanted the full cargo of the Queen on her next voyage, and they were taking the one way they were sure of achieving that result.

So a fortune in Koros stones which as yet did not rightfully belong to the Traders was now in the Queen’s strong-room and her crew were pledged by the strongest possible tie known in their Service to set down on Sargol once more before the allotted time had passed. The Free Traders did not like it, there was even a vaguely superstitious feeling that such a bargain would inevitably draw ill luck to them. But they were left with no choice if they wanted to retain their influence with the Salariki.

“Cutting orbit pretty fine, aren’t we?” Ali asked Rip across the mess table. “I saw your two star man sweating it out before he came down to shoot the breeze with us rocket monkeys—”

Rip nodded. “Steen’s double checked every computation and some he’s done four times.” He ran his hands over his close cropped head with a weary gesture. As a semi-invalid he had been herded down with his fellows to swallow the builder Mura had concocted and Tau insisted that they take, but he had been doing a half a night’s work on the plotter under his chief’s exacting eye before he came. “The latest news is that, barring accident, we can make it with about three weeks’ grace, give or take a day or two—”

“Barring accident—” the words rang in the air. Here on the frontiers of the star lanes there were so many accidents, so many delays which could put a ship behind schedule. Only on the main star trails did the huge liners or Company ships attempt to keep on regularly timed trips. A Free Trader did not really dare to have an inelastic contract.

“What does Stotz say?” Dane asked Ali.

“He says he can deliver. We don’t have the headache about setting a course—you point the nose and we only give her the boost to send her along.”

Rip sighed. “Yes—point her nose.” He inspected his nails. “Goodbye,” he added gravely. “These won’t be here by the time we planet here again. I’ll have my fingers gnawed off to the first knuckle. Well, we lift at six hours. Pleasant strap down.” He drank the last of the stuff in his mug, made a face at the flavor, and got to his feet, due back at his post in control.

Dane, free of duty until the ship earthed, drifted back to his own cabin, sure of part of a night’s undisturbed rest before they blasted off. Sinbad was curled on his bunk. For some reason the cat had not been prowling the ship before take-off as he usually did. First he had sat on Van’s desk and now he was here, almost as if he wanted human company. Dane picked him up and Sinbad rumbled a purr, arching his head so that it rubbed against the young man’s chin in an extremely uncharacteristic show of affection. Smoothing the fur along the cat’s jaw line Dane carried him back to the Cargo-master’s cabin.

With some hesitation he knocked at the panel and did not step in until he had Van Rycke’s muffled invitation. The Cargo-master was stretched on the bunk, two of the take off straps already fastened across his bulk as if he intended to sleep through the blast-off.

“Sinbad, sir. Shall I stow him?”

Van Rycke grunted an assent and Dane dropped the cat in the small hammock which was his particular station, fastening the safety cords. For once Sinbad made no protest but rolled into a ball and was promptly fast asleep. For a moment or two Dane thought about this unnatural behavior and wondered if he should call it to the Cargo-master’s attention. Perhaps on Sargol Sinbad had had his equivalent of a friendship cup and needed a check-up by Tau.

“Stowage correct?” the question, coming from Van Rycke, was also unusual. The seal would not have been put across the hold lock had its contents not been checked and rechecked.

“Yes, sir,” Dane replied woodenly, knowing he was still in the outer darkness. “There was just the wood—we stowed it according to chart.”

Van Rycke grunted once more. “Feeling top-layer again?”

“Yes, sir. Any orders, sir?”

“No. Blast-off’s at six.”

“Yes, sir.” Dane left the cabin, closing the panel carefully behind him. Would he—or could he—he thought drearily, get back in Van Rycke’s profit column again? Sargol had been unlucky as far as he was concerned. First he had made that stupid mistake and then he got sick and now—And now—what was the matter? Was it just the general attack of nerves over their voyage and the commitments which forced their haste, or was it something else? He could not rid himself of a vague sense that the Queen was about to take off into real trouble. And he did not like the sensation at all!


Chapter VIII

HEADACHES

They lifted from Sargol on schedule and went into Hyper also on schedule. From that point on there was nothing to do but wait out the usual dull time of flight between systems and hope that Steen Wilcox had plotted a course which would cut that flight time to a minimum. But this voyage there was little relaxation once they were in Hyper. No matter when Dane dropped into the mess cabin, which was the common meeting place of the spacer, he was apt to find others there before him, usually with a mug of one of Mura’s special brews close at hand, speculating about their landing date.

Dane, himself, once he had thrown off the lingering effects of his Sargolian illness, applied time to his studies. When he had first joined the Queen as a recruit straight out of the training Pool, he had speedily learned that all the ten years of intensive study then behind him had only been an introduction to the amount he still had to absorb before he could take his place as an equal with such a trader as Van Rycke—if he had the stuff which would raise him in time to that exalted level. While he had still had his superior’s favor he had dared to treat him as an instructor, going to him with perplexing problems of stowage or barter. But now he had no desire to intrude upon the Cargo-master, and doggedly wrestled with the microtapes of old records on his own, painfully working out the why and wherefor for any departure from the regular procedure. He had no inkling of his own future status—whether the return to Terra would find him permanently earthed. And he would ask no questions.

They had been four days of ship’s time in Hyper when Dane walked into the mess cabin, tired after his work with old records, to discover no Mura busy in the galley beyond, no brew steaming on the heat coil. Rip sat at the table, his long legs stuck out, his usually happy face very sober.

“What’s wrong?” Dane reached for a mug, then seeing no pot of drink, put it back in place.

“Frank’s sick—”

“What!” Dane turned. Illness such as they had run into on Sargol had a logical base. But illness on board ship was something else.

“Tau has him isolated. He has a bad headache and he blacked out when he tried to sit up. Tau’s running tests.”

Dane sat down. “Could be something he ate—”

Rip shook his head. “He wasn’t at the feast—remember? And he didn’t eat anything from outside, he swore that to Tau. In fact he didn’t go dirt much while we were down—”

That was only too true as Dane could now recall. And the fact that the steward had not been at the feast, had not sampled native food products, wiped out the simplest and most comforting reasons for his present collapse.

“What’s this about Frank?” Ali stood in the doorway. “He said yesterday that he had a headache. But now Tau has him shut off—”

“But he wasn’t at that feast.” Ali stopped short as the implications of that struck him. “How’s Tang feeling?”

“Fine—why?” The Com-tech had come up behind Kamil and was answering for himself. “Why this interest in the state of my health?”

“Frank’s down with something—in isolation,” Rip replied bluntly. “Did he do anything out of the ordinary when we were off ship?”

For a long moment the other stared at Shannon and then he shook his head. “No. And he wasn’t dirt-side to any extent either. So Tau’s running tests—” He lapsed into silence. None of them wished to put their thoughts into words.

Dane picked up the microtape he had brought with him and went on down the corridor to return it. The panel of the cargo office was ajar and to his relief he found Van Rycke out. He shoved the tape back in its case and pulled out the next one. Sinbad was there, not in his own private hammock, but sprawled out on the Cargo-master’s bunk. He watched Dane lazily, mouthing a silent mew of welcome. For some reason since they had blasted from Sargol the cat had been lazy—as if his adventures afield there had sapped much of his vitality.

“Why aren’t you out working?” Dane asked as he leaned over to scratch under a furry chin raised for the benefit of such a caress. “You inspect the hold lately, boy?”

Sinbad merely blinked and after the manner of his species looked infinitely bored. As Dane turned to go the Cargo-master came in. He showed no surprise at Dane’s presence. Instead he reached out and fingered the label of the tape Dane had just chosen. After a glance at the identifying symbol he took it out of his assistant’s hand, plopped it back in its case, and stood for a moment eyeing the selection of past voyage records. With a tongue-click of satisfaction he pulled out another and tossed it across the desk to Dane.

“See what you can make out of this tangle,” he ordered. But Dane’s shoulders went back as if some weight had been lifted from them. The old easiness was still lacking, but he was no longer exiled to the outer darkness of Van Rycke’s displeasure.

Holding the microtape as if it were a first grade Koros stone Dane went back to his own cabin, snapped the tape into his reader, adjusted the ear buttons and lay back on his bunk to listen.

He was deep in the intricacy of a deal so complicated that he was lost after the first two moves, when he opened his eyes to see Ali at the door panel. The Engineer-apprentice made an emphatic beckoning wave and Dane slipped off the ear buttons.

“What is it?” His question lacked a cordial note.

“I’ve got to have help.” Ali was terse. “Kosti’s blacked out!”

“What!” Dane sat up and dropped his feet to the deck in almost one movement.

“I can’t shift him alone,” Ali stated the obvious. The giant jetman was almost double his size. “We must get him to his quarters. And I won’t ask Stotz—”

For a perfectly good reason Dane knew. An assistant—two of the apprentices—could go sick, but their officers’ continued good health meant the most to the Queen. If some infection were aboard it would be better for Ali and himself to be exposed, than to have Johan Stotz with all his encyclopedic knowledge of the ship’s engines contract any disease.

They found the jetman half sitting, half lying in the short foot or so of corridor which led to his own cubby. He had been making for his quarters when the seizure had taken him. And by the time the two reached his side, he was beginning to come around, moaning, his hands going to his head.

Together they got him on his feet and guided him to his bunk where he collapsed again, dead weight they had to push into place. Dane looked at Ali—

“Tau?”

“Haven’t had time to call him yet.” Ali was jerking at the thigh straps which fastened Kosti’s space boots.

“I’ll go.” Glad for the task Dane sped up the ladder to the next section and threaded the narrow side hall to the Medic’s cabin where he knocked on the panel.

There was a pause before Craig Tau looked out, deep lines of weariness bracketing his mouth, etched between his eyes.

“Kosti, sir,” Dane gave his bad news quickly. “He’s collapsed. We got him to his cabin—”

Tau showed no sign of surprise. His hand shot out for his kit.

“You touched him?” At the other’s nod he added an order. “Stay in your quarters until I have a chance to look you over—understand?”

Dane had no chance to answer, the Medic was already on his way. He went to his own cabin, understanding the reason for his imprisonment, but inwardly rebelling against it. Rather than sit idle he snapped on the reader—but, although facts and figures were dunned into his ears—he really heard very little. He couldn’t apply himself—not with a new specter leering at him from the bulkhead.

The dangers of the space lanes were not to be numbered, death walked among the stars a familiar companion of all spacemen. And to the Free Trader it was the extra and invisible crewman on every ship that raised. But there were deaths and deaths—And Dane could not forget the gruesome legends Van Rycke collected avidly as his hobby—had recorded in his private library of the folk lore of space.

Stories such as that of the ghostly “New Hope” carrying refugees from the first Martian Rebellion—the ship which had lifted for the stars but had never arrived, which wandered for a timeless eternity, a derelict in free fall, its port closed but the warning “dead” lights on at its nose—a ship which through five centuries had been sighted only by a spacer in similar distress. Such stories were numerous. There were other tales of “plague” ships wandering free with their dead crews, or discovered and shot into some sun by a patrol cruiser so that they might not carry their infection farther. Plague—the nebulous “worst” the Traders had to face. Dane screwed his eyes shut, tried to concentrate upon the droning voice in his ears, but he could not control his thoughts nor—his fears.

At a touch on his arm he started so wildly that he jerked the cord loose from the reader and sat up, somewhat shamefaced, to greet Tau. At the Medic’s orders he stripped for one of the most complete examinations he had ever undergone outside a quarantine port. It included an almost microscopic inspection of the skin on his neck and shoulders, but when Tau had done he gave a sigh of relief.

“Well, you haven’t got it—at least you don’t show any signs yet,” he amended his first statement almost before the words were out of his mouth.

“What were you looking for?”

Tau took time out to explain. “Here,” his fingers touched the small hollow at the base of Dane’s throat and then swung him around and indicated two places on the back of his neck and under his shoulder blades. “Kosti and Mura both have red eruptions here. It’s as if they have been given an injection of some narcotic.” Tau sat down on the jump seat while Dane dressed. “Kosti was dirt-side—he might have picked up something—”

“But Mura—”

“That’s it!” Tau brought his fist down on the edge of the bunk. “Frank hardly left the ship—yet he showed the first signs. On the other hand you are all right so far and you were off ship. And Ali’s clean and he was with you on the hunt. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He got up wearily. “If your head begins to ache,” he told Dane, “you get back here in a hurry and stay put—understand?”

As Dane learned all the other members of the crew were given the same type of inspection. But none of them showed the characteristic marks which meant trouble. They were on course for Terra—but—and that but must have loomed large in all their minds—once there would they be allowed to land? Could they even hope for a hearing? Plague ship—Tau must find the answer before they came into normal space about their own solar system or they were in for such trouble as made a broken contract seem the simplest of mishaps.

Kosti and Mura were in isolation. There were volunteers for nursing and Tau, unable to be in two places at once, finally picked Weeks to look after his crewmate in the engineering section.

There was doubling up of duties. Tau could no longer share with Mura the care of the hydro garden so Van Rycke took over. While Dane found himself in charge of the galley and, while he did not have Mura’s deft hand at disguising the monotonous concentrates to the point they resembled fresh food, after a day or two he began to experiment cautiously and produced a stew which brought some short words of appreciation from Captain Jellico.

They all breathed a sigh of relief when, after three days, no more signs of the mysterious illness showed on new members of the crew. It became routine to parade before Tau stripped to the waist each morning for the inspection of the danger points, and the Medic’s vigilance did not relax.

In the meantime neither Mura nor Kosti appeared to suffer. Once the initial stages of headaches and blackouts were passed, the patients lapsed into a semi-conscious state as if they were under sedation of some type. They would eat, if the food was placed in their mouths, but they did not seem to know what was going on about them, nor did they answer when spoken to.

Tau, between visits to them, worked feverishly in his tiny lab, analyzing blood samples, reading the records of obscure diseases, trying to find the reason for their attacks. But as yet his discoveries were exactly nothing. He had come out of his quarters and sat in limp exhaustion at the mess table while Dane placed before him a mug of stimulating caf-hag.

“I don’t get it!” The Medic addressed the table top rather than the amateur cook. “It’s a poison of some kind. Kosti went dirt-side—Mura didn’t. Yet Mura came down with it first. And we didn’t ship any food from Sargol. Neither did he eat any while we were there. Unless he did and we didn’t know about it. If I could just bring him to long enough to answer a couple of questions!” Sighing he dropped his weary head on his folded arms and within seconds was asleep.

Dane put the mug back on the heating unit and sat down at the other end of the table. He did not have the heart to shake Tau into wakefulness—let the poor devil get a slice of bunk time, he certainly needed it after the fatigues of the past four days.

Van Rycke passed along the corridor on his way to the hydro, Sinbad at his heels. But in a moment the cat was back, leaping up on Dane’s knee. He did not curl up, but rubbed against the young man’s arm, finally reaching up with a paw to touch Dane’s chin, uttering one of the soundless, mews which were his bid for attention.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Dane fondled the cat’s ears. “You haven’t got a headache—have you?” In that second a wild surmise came into his mind. Sinbad had been planet-side on Sargol as much as he could, and on ship board he was equally at home in all their cabins—could he be the carrier of the disease?

A good idea—only if it were true, then logically the second victim should have been Van, or Dane—whereas Sinbad lingered most of the time in their cabins—not Kosti. The cat, as far as he knew, had never shown any particular fondness for the jetman and certainly did not sleep in Karl’s quarters. No—that point did not fit. But he would mention it to Tau—no use overlooking anything—no matter how wild.

It was the sequence of victims which puzzled them all. As far as Tau had been able to discover Mura and Kosti had nothing much in common except that they were crewmates on the same spacer. They did not bunk in the same section, their fields of labor were totally different, they had no special food or drink tastes in common, they were not even of the same race. Frank Mura was one of the few descendants of a mysterious (or now mysterious) people who had had their home on a series of islands in one of Terra’s seas, islands which almost a hundred years before had been swallowed up in a series of world-rending quakes—Japan was the ancient name of that nation. While Karl Kosti had come from the once thickly populated land masses half the planet away which had borne the geographical name of “Europe.” No, all the way along the two victims had only very general meeting points—they both shipped on the Solar Queen and they were both of Terran birth.

Tau stirred and sat up, blinking bemusedly at Dane, then pushed back his wiry black hair and assumed a measure of alertness. Dane dropped the now purring cat in the Medic’s lap and in a few sentences outlined his suspicion. Tau’s hands closed about Sinbad.

“There’s a chance in that—” He looked a little less beat and he drank thirstily from the mug Dane gave him for the second time. Then he hurried out with Sinbad under one arm—bound for his lab.

Dane slicked up the galley, trying to put things away as neatly as Mura kept them. He didn’t have much faith in the Sinbad lead, but in this case everything must be checked out.

When the Medic did not appear during the rest of the ship’s day Dane was not greatly concerned. But he was alerted to trouble when Ali came in with an inquiry and a complaint.

“Seen anything of Craig?”

“He’s in the lab,” Dane answered.

“He didn’t answer my knock,” Ali protested. “And Weeks says he hasn’t been in to see Karl all day—”

That did catch Dane’s attention. Had his half hunch been right? Was Tau on the trail of a discovery which had kept him chained to the lab? But it wasn’t like the Medic not to look in on his patients.

“You’re sure he isn’t in the lab?”

“I told you that he didn’t answer my knock. I didn’t open the panel—” But now Ali was already in the corridor heading back the way he had come, with Dane on his heels, an unwelcome explanation for that silence in both their minds. And their fears were reinforced by what they heard as they approached the panel—a low moan wrung out of unbearable pain. Dane thrust the sliding door open.

Tau had slipped from his stool to the floor. His hands were at his head which rolled from side to side as if he were trying to quiet some agony. Dane stripped down the Medic’s under tunic. There was no need to make a careful examination, in the hollow of Craig Tau’s throat was the tell-tale red blotch.

“Sinbad!” Dane glanced about the cabin. “Did Sinbad get out past you?” he demanded of the puzzled Ali.

“No—I haven’t seen him all day—”

Yet the cat was nowhere in the tiny cabin and it had no concealed hiding place. To make doubly sure Dane secured the panel before they carried Tau to his bunk. The Medic had blacked out again, passed into the lethargic second stage of the malady. At least he was out of the pain which appeared to be the worst symptom of the disease.

“It must be Sinbad!” Dane said as he made his report directly to Captain Jellico. “And yet—”

“Yes, he’s been staying in Van’s cabin,” the Captain mused. “And you’ve handled him, he slept on your bunk. Yet you and Van are all right. I don’t understand that. Anyway—to be on the safe side—we’d better find and isolate him before—”

He didn’t have to underline any words for the grim-faced men who listened. With Tau—their one hope of fighting the disease gone—they had a black future facing them.

They did not have to search for Sinbad. Dane coming down to his own section found the cat crouched before the panel of Van Rycke’s cabin, his eyes glued to the thin crack of the door. Dane scooped him up and took him to the small cargo space intended for the safeguarding of choice items of commerce. To his vast surprise Sinbad began fighting wildly as he opened the hatch, kicking and then slashing with ready claws. The cat seemed to go mad and Dane had all he could do to shut him in. When he snapped the panel he heard Sinbad launch himself against the barrier as if to batter his way out. Dane, blood welling in several deep scratches, went in search of first aid. But some suspicion led him to pause as he passed Van Rycke’s door. And when his knock brought no answer he pushed the panel open.

Van Rycke lay on his bunk, his eyes half closed in a way which had become only too familiar to the crew of the Solar Queen. And Dane knew that when he looked for it he would find the mark of the strange plague on the Cargo-master’s body.


Chapter IX

PLAGUE!

Jellico and Steen Wilcox pored over the few notes Tau had made before he was stricken. But apparently the Medic had found nothing to indicate that Sinbad was the carrier of any disease. Meanwhile the Captain gave orders for the cat to be confined. A difficult task—since Sinbad crouched close to the door of the storage cabin and was ready to dart out when food was taken in for him. Once he got a good way down the corridor before Dane was able to corner and return him to keeping.

Dane, Ali and Weeks took on the full care of the four sick men, leaving the few regular duties of the ship to the senior officers, while Rip was installed in charge of the hydro garden.

Mura, the first to be taken ill, showed no change. He was semi-conscious, he swallowed food if it were put in his mouth, he responded to nothing around him. And Kosti, Tau, and Van Rycke followed the same pattern. They still held morning inspection of those on their feet for signs of a new outbreak, but when no one else went down during the next two days, they regained a faint spark of hope.

Hope which was snapped out when Ali brought the news that Stotz could not be roused and must have taken ill during a sleep period. One more inert patient was added to the list—and nothing learned about how he was infected. Except that they could eliminate Sinbad, since the cat had been in custody during the time Stotz had apparently contracted the disease.

Weeks, Ali and Dane, though they were in constant contact with the sick men, and though Dane had repeatedly handled Sinbad, continued to be immune. A fact, Dane thought more than once, which must have significance—if someone with Tau’s medical knowledge had been able to study it. By all rights they should be the most susceptible—but the opposite seemed true. And Wilcox duly noted that fact among the data they had recorded.

It became a matter of watching each other, waiting for another collapse. And they were not surprised when Tang Ya reeled into the mess, his face livid and drawn with pain. Rip and Dane got him to his cabin before he blacked out. But all they could learn from him during the interval before he lost consciousness was that his head was bursting and he couldn’t stand it. Over his limp body they stared at one another bleakly.

“Six down,” Ali observed, “and six to go. How do you feel?”

“Tired, that’s all. What I don’t understand is that once they go into this stupor they just stay. They don’t get any worse, they have no rise in temperature—it’s as if they are in a modified form of cold sleep!”

“How is Tang?” Rip asked from the corridor.

“Usual pattern,” Ali answered, “He’s sleeping. Got a pain, Fella?”

Rip shook his head. “Right as a Com-unit. I don’t get it. Why does it strike Tang who didn’t even hit dirt much—and yet you keep on—?”

Dane grimaced. “If we had an answer to that, maybe we’d know what caused the whole thing—”

Ali’s eyes narrowed. He was staring straight at the unconscious Com-tech as if he did not see that supine body at all. “I wonder if we’ve been salted—” he said slowly.

“We’ve been what?” Dane demanded.

“Look here, we three—with Weeks—drank that brew of the Salariki, didn’t we? And we—”

“Were as sick as Venusian gobblers afterwards,” agreed Rip.

Light dawned. “Do you mean—” began Dane.

“So that’s it!” flashed Rip.

“It might just be,” Ali said. “Do you remember how the settlers on Camblyne brought their Terran cattle through the first year? They fed them salt mixed with fansel grass. The result was that the herds didn’t take the fansel grass fever when they turned them out to pasture in the dry season. All right, maybe we had our ‘salt’ in that drink. The fansel-salt makes the cattle filthy sick when it’s forced down their throats, but after they recover they’re immune to the fever. And nobody on Camblyne buys unsalted cattle now.”

“It sounds logical,” admitted Rip. “But how are we going to prove it?”

Ali’s face was black once more. “Probably by elimination,” he said morosely. “If we keep our feet and all the rest go down—that’s our proof.”

“But we ought to be able to do something—” protested Shannon.

“Just how?” Ali’s slender brows arched. “Do you have a gallon of that Salariki brew on board you can serve out? We don’t know what was in it. Nor are we sure that this whole idea has any value.”

All of them had had first aid and basic preventive medicine as part of their training, but the more advanced laboratory experimentation was beyond their knowledge and skill. Had Tau still been on his feet perhaps he could have traced that lead and brought order out of the chaos which was closing in upon the Solar Queen. But, though they reported their suggestion to the Captain, Jellico was powerless to do anything about it. If the four who had shared that upsetting friendship cup were immune to the doom which now overhung the ship, there was no possible way for them to discover why or how.

Ship’s time came to have little meaning. And they were not surprised when Steen Wilcox slipped from his seat before the computer—to be stowed away with what had become a familiar procedure. Only Jellico withstood the contagion apart from the younger four, taking his turn at caring for the helpless men. There was no change in their condition. They neither roused nor grew worse as the hours and then the days sped by. But each of those units of time in passing brought them nearer to greater danger. Sooner or later they must make the transition out of Hyper into system space, and the jump out of warp was something not even a veteran took lightly. Rip’s round face thinned while they watched. Jellico was still functioning. But if the Captain collapsed the whole responsibility for the snap-out would fall directly on Shannon. An infinitesimal error would condemn them to almost hopeless wandering—perhaps for ever.

Dane and Ali relieved Rip of all duty but that which kept him chained in Wilcox’s chair before the computers. He went over and over the data of the course the Astrogator had set. And Captain Jellico, his eyes sunk in dark pits, checked and rechecked.

When the fatal moment came Ali manned the engine room with Weeks at his elbow to tend the controls the acting-Engineer could not reach. And Dane, having seen the sick all safely stowed in crash webbing, came up to the control cabin, riding out the transfer in Tang Ya’s place.

Rip’s voice hoarsened into a croak, calling out the data. Dane, though he had had basic theory, was completely lost before Shannon had finished the first set of co-ordinates. But Jellico replied, hands playing across the pilot’s board.

“Stand-by for snap-out—” the croak went down to the engines where Ali now held Stotz’s post.

“Engines ready!” The voice came back, thinned by its journey from the Queen’s interior.

“Ought-five-nine—” That was Jellico.

Dane found himself suddenly unable to watch. He shut his eyes and braced himself against the vertigo of snap-out. It came and he whirled sickeningly through unstable space. Then he was sitting in the laced Com-tech’s seat looking at Rip.

Runnels of sweat streaked Shannon’s brown face. There was a damp patch darkening his tunic between his shoulder blades, a patch which it would take both of Dane’s hands to cover.

For a moment he did not raise his head to look at the vision plate which would tell him whether or not they had made it. But when he did familiar constellations made the patterns they knew. They were out—and they couldn’t be too far off the course Wilcox had plotted. There was still the system run to make—but snap-out was behind them. Rip gave a deep sigh and buried his head in his hands.

With a throb of fear Dane unhooked his safety belt and hurried over to him. When he clutched at Shannon’s shoulder the Astrogator-apprentice’s head rolled limply. Was Rip down with the illness too? But the other muttered and opened his eyes.

“Does your head ache?” Dane shook him.

“Head? No—” Rip’s words came drowsily. “Jus’ sleepy—so sleepy—”

He did not seem to be in pain. But Dane’s hands were shaking as he hoisted the other out of his seat and half carried-half led him to his cabin, praying as he went that it was only fatigue and not the disease. The ship was on auto now until Jellico as pilot set a course—

Dane got Rip down on the bunk and stripped off his tunic. The fine-drawn face of the sleeper looked wan against the foam rest, and he snuggled into the softness like a child as he turned over and curled up. But his skin was clear—it was real sleep and not the plague which had claimed him.

Impulse sent Dane back to the control cabin. He was not an experienced pilot officer, but there might be some assistance he could offer the Captain now that Rip was washed out, perhaps for hours.

Jellico hunched before the smaller computer, feeding pilot tape into its slot. His face was a skull under a thin coating of skin, the bones marking it sharply at jaw, nose and eye socket.

“Shannon down?” His voice was a mere whisper of its powerful self, he did not turn his head.

“He’s just worn out, sir,” Dane hastened to give reassurance. “The marks aren’t on him.”

“When he comes around tell him the co-ords are in,” Jellico murmured. “See he checks course in ten hours—”

“But, sir—” Dane’s protest failed as he watched the Captain struggle to his feet, pulling himself up with shaking hands. As Thorson reached forward to steady the other, one of those hands tore at tunic collar, ripping loose the sealing—

There was no need for explanation—the red splotch signaled from Jellico’s sweating throat. He kept his feet, holding out against the waves of pain by sheer will power. Then Dane had a grip on him, got him away from the computer, hoping he could keep him going until they reached Jellico’s cabin.

Somehow they made that journey, being greeted with raucous screams from the Hoobat. Furiously Dane slapped the cage, setting it to swinging and so silencing the creature which stared at him with round, malignant eyes as he got the Captain to bed.

Only four of them on their feet now, Dane thought bleakly as he left the cabin. If Rip came out of it in time they could land—Dane’s breath caught as he made himself face up to the fact that Shannon might be ill, that it might be up to him to bring the Queen in for a landing. And in where? The Terra quarantine was Luna City on the Moon. But let them signal for a set-down there—let them describe what had happened and they might face death as a plague ship.

Wearily he climbed down to the mess cabin to discover Weeks and Ali there before him. They did not look up as he entered.

“Old Man’s got it,” he reported.

“Rip?” was Ali’s crossing question.

“Asleep. He passed out—”

“What!” Weeks swung around.

“Worn out,” Dane amended. “Captain fed in a pilot tape before he gave up.”

“So—now we are three,” was Ali’s comment. “Where do we set down—Luna City?”

“If they let us,” Dane hinted at the worst.

“But they’ve got to let us!” Weeks exclaimed. “We can’t just wander around out here—”

“It’s been done,” Ali reminded them brutally and that silenced Weeks.

“Did the Old Man set Luna?” After a long pause Ali inquired.

“I didn’t check,” Dane confessed. “He was giving out and I had to get him to his bunk.”

“It might be well to know.” The Engineer-apprentice got up, his movements lacking much of the elastic spring which was normally his. When he climbed to control both the others followed him.

Ali’s slender fingers played across a set of keys and in the small screen mounting on the computer a set of figures appeared. Dane took up the master course book, read the connotation and blinked.

“Not Luna?” Ali asked.

“No. But I don’t understand. This must be for somewhere in the asteroid belt.”

Ali’s lips stretched into a pale caricature of a smile. “Good for the Old Man, he still had his wits about him, even after the bug bit him!”

“But why are we going to the asteroids?” Weeks asked reasonably enough. “There’re Medics at Luna City—they can help us—”

“They can handle known diseases,” Ali pointed out. “But what of the Code?”

Weeks dropped into the Com-tech’s place as if some of the stiffening had vanished from his thin but sturdy legs. “They wouldn’t do that—” he protested, but his eyes said that he knew that they might—they well might.

“Oh, no? Face the facts, man,” Ali sounded almost savage. “We come from a frontier planet, we’re a plague ship—”

He did not have to underline that. They all knew too well the danger in which they now stood.

“Nobody’s died yet,” Weeks tried to find an opening in the net being drawn about them.

“And nobody’s recovered,” Ali crushed that thread of hope. “We don’t know what it is, how it is contracted—anything about it. Let us make a report saying that and you know what will happen—don’t you?”

They weren’t sure of the details, but they could guess.

“So I say,” Ali continued, “the Old Man was right when he set us on an evasion course. If we can stay out until we really know what is the matter we’ll have some chance of talking over the high brass at Luna when we do planet—”

In the end they decided not to interfere with the course the Captain had set. It would take them into the fringes of solar civilization, but give them a fighting chance at solving their problem before they had to report to the authorities. In the meantime they tended their charges, let Rip sleep, and watched each other with desperate but hidden intentness, ready for another to be stricken. However, they remained, although almost stupid with fatigue at times, reasonably healthy. Time was proving that their guess had been correct—they had been somehow inoculated against the germ or virus which had struck the ship.

Rip slept for twenty-four hours, ship time, and then came into the mess cabin ravenously hungry, to catch up on both food and news. And he refused to join with the prevailing pessimistic view of the future. Instead he was sure that their own immunity having been proven, they had a talking point to use with the medical officials at Luna and he was eager to alter course directly for the quarantine station. Only the combined arguments of the other three made him, unwillingly, agree to a short delay.

And how grateful they should be for Captain Jellico’s foresight they learned within the next day. Ali was at the com-unit, trying to pick up Solarian news reports. When the red alert flashed on throughout the ship it brought the others hurrying to the control cabin. The code squeaks were magnified as Ali switched on the receiver full strength, to be translated as he pressed a second button.

“Repeat, repeat, repeat. Free Trader, Solar Queen, Terra Registry 65-724910-Jk, suspected plague ship—took off from infected planet. Warn off—warn off—report such ship to Luna Station. Solar Queen from infected planet—to be warned off and reported.” The same message was repeated three times before going off ether.

The four in the control cabin looked at each other blankly.

“But,” Dane broke the silence, “how did they know? We haven’t reported in—”

“The Eysies!” Ali had the answer ready. “That I-S ship must be having the same sort of trouble and reported to her Company. They would include us in their report and believe that we were infected too—or it would be easy to convince the authorities that we were.”

“I wonder,” Rip’s eyes were narrowed slits as he leaned back against the wall. “Look at the facts. The Survey ship which charted Sargol—they were dirt-side there about three-four months. Yet they gave it a clean bill of health and put it up for trading rights auction. Then Cam bought those rights—he made at least two trips in and out before he was blasted on Limbo. No infection bothered him or Survey—”

“But you’ve got to admit it hit us,” Weeks protested.

“Yes, and the Eysie ship was able to foresee it—report us before we snapped out of Hyper. Sounds almost as if they expected us to carry plague, doesn’t it?” Shannon wanted to know.

“Planted?” Ali frowned at the banks of controls. “But how—no Eysie came on board—no Salarik either, except for the cub who showed us what they thought of catnip.”

Rip shrugged. “How would I know how they did—” he was beginning when Dane cut in:

“If they didn’t know about our immunity the Queen might stay in Hyper and never come out—there wouldn’t be anyone to set the snap-out.”

“Right enough. But on the chance that somebody did keep on his feet and bring her home, they were ready with a cover. If no one raises a howl Sargol will be written off the charts as infected, I-S sits on her tail fins a year or so and then she promotes an investigation before the Board. The Survey records are trotted out—no infection recorded. So they send in a Patrol Probe. Everything is all right—so it wasn’t the planet after all—it was that dirty old Free Trader. And she’s out of the way. I-S gets the Koros trade all square and legal and we’re no longer around to worry about! Neat as a Salariki net-cast—and right around our collective throats, my friends!”

“So what do we do now?” Weeks wanted to know.

“We keep on the Old Man’s course, get lost in the asteroids until we can do some heavy thinking and see a way out. But if I-S gave us this prize package, some trace of its origin is still aboard. And if we can find that—why, then we have something to start from.”

“Mura went down first—and then Karl. Nothing in common,” the old problem faced Dane for the hundredth time.

“No. But,” Ali arose from his place at the com-unit. “I’d suggest a real search of first Frank’s and then Karl’s quarters. A regular turn out down to the bare walls of their cabins. Are you with me?”

“Fly boy, we’re ahead of you!” Rip contributed, already at the door panel. “Down to the bare walls it is.”


Chapter X

E-STAT LANDING

Since Mura was in the isolation of ship sick bay the stripping of his cabin was a relatively simple job. But, though Rip and Dane went over it literally by inches, they found nothing unusual—in fact nothing from Sargol except a small twig of the red wood which lay on the steward’s worktable where he had been fashioning something to incorporate in one of his miniature fairy landscapes, to be imprisoned for all time in a plasta-bubble. Dane turned this around in his fingers. Because it was the only link with the perfumed planet he couldn’t help but feel that it had some importance.

But Kosti had not shown any interest in the wood. And he, himself, and Weeks had handled it freely before they had tasted Graft’s friendship cup and had no ill effects—so it couldn’t be the wood. Dane put the twig back on the work table and snapped the protecting cover over the delicate tools—never realizing until days later how very close he had been in that moment to the solution of their problem.

After two hours of shifting every one of the steward’s belongings, of crawling on hands and knees about the deck and climbing to inspect perfectly bare walls, they had found exactly nothing. Rip sat down on the end of the denuded bunk.

“There’s the hydro—Frank spent a lot of time in there—and the storeroom,” he told the places off on his fingers. “The galley and the mess cabin.”

Those had been the extent of Mura’s world. They could search the storeroom, the galley and the mess cabin—but to interfere with the hydro would endanger their air supply. It was for that very reason that they now looked at each other in startled surmise.

“The perfect place to plant something!” Dane spoke first.

Rip’s teeth caught his underlip. The hydro—something planted there could not be routed out unless they made a landing on a port field and had the whole section stripped.

“Devilish—” Rip’s mobile lips drew tight. “But how could they do it?”

Dane didn’t see how it could have been done either. No one but the Queen’s own crew had been on board the ship during their entire stay on Sargol, except for the young Salarik. Could that cub have brought something? But he and Mura had been with the youngster every minute that he had been in the hydro. To the best of Dane’s memory the cub had touched nothing and had been there only for a few moments. That had been before the feast also—

Rip got to his feet. “We can’t strip the hydro in space,” he pointed out the obvious quietly.

Dane had the answer. “Then we’ve got to earth!”

“You heard that warn-off. If we try it—”

“What about an Emergency station?”

Rip stood very still, his big hands locked about the buckle of his arms belt. Then, without another word, he went out of the cabin and at a pounding pace up the ladder, bound for the Captain’s cabin and the records Jellico kept there. It was such a slim chance—but it was better than none at all.

Dane shouldered into the small space in his wake to find Rip making a selection from the astrogation tapes. There were E-Stats among the asteroids—points prospectors or small traders in sudden difficulties might contact for supplies or repairs. The big Companies maintained their own—the Patrol had several for independents.

“No Patrol one—”

Rip managed a smile. “I haven’t gone space whirly yet,” was his comment. He was feeding a tape into the reader on the Captain’s desk. In the cage over his head the blue Hoobat squatted watching him intently—for the first time since Dane could remember showing no sign of resentment by weird screams or wild spitting.

“Patrol E-Stat A-54—” the reader squeaked. Rip hit a key and the wire clicked to the next entry. “Combine E-Stat—” Another punch and click. “Patrol E-Stat A-55—” punch-click. “Inter-Solar—” this time Rip’s hand did not hit the key and the squeak continued—”Co-ordinates—” Rip reached for a steelo and jotted down the list of figures.

“Got to compare this with our present course—”

“But that’s an I-S Stat,” began Dane and then he laughed as the justice of such a move struck him. They did not dare set the Queen down at any Patrol Station. But a Company one which would be manned by only two or three men and not expecting any but their own people—and I-S owed them help now!

“There may be trouble,” he said, not that he would have any regrets if there was. If the Eysies were responsible for the present plight of the Queen he would welcome trouble, the kind which would plant his fists on some sneering Eysie face.

“We’ll see about that when we come to it,” Rip went on to the control cabin with his figures. Carefully he punched the combination on the plotter and watched it be compared with the course Jellico had set before his collapse.

“Good enough,” he commented as the result flashed on. “We can make it without using too much fuel—”

“Make what?” That was Ali up from the search of Kosti’s quarters. “Nothing,” he gave his report of what he had found there and then returned to the earlier question. “Make what?”

Swiftly Dane outlined their suspicions—that the seat of the trouble lay in the hydro and that they should clean out that section, drawing upon emergency materials at the I-S E-Stat.

“Sounds all right. But you know what they do to pirates?” inquired the Engineer-apprentice.

Space law came into Dane’s field, he needed no prompting. “Any ship in emergency,” he recited automatically, “may claim supplies from the nearest E-Stat—paying for them when the voyage is completed.”

“That means any Patrol E-Stat. The Companies’ are private property.”

“But,” Dane pointed out triumphantly, “the law doesn’t say so—there is nothing about any difference between Company and Patrol E-Stat in the law—”

“He’s right,” Rip agreed. “That law was framed when only the Patrol had such stations. Companies put them in later to save tax—remember? Legally we’re all right.”

“Unless the agents on duty raise a howl,” Ali amended. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Rip. I’m not sounding any warn-off on this, but I just want you to be prepared to find a cruiser riding our fins and giving us the hot flash as bandits. If you want to spoil the Eysies, I’m all for it. Got a stat of theirs pinpointed?”

Rip pointed to the figures on the computer. “There she is. We can set down in about five hours’ ship time. How long will it take to strip the hydro and re-install?”

“How can I tell?” Ali sounded irritable. “I can give you oxgy for quarters for about two hours. Depends upon how fast we can move. No telling until we make a start.”

He started for the corridor and then added over his shoulder: “You’ll have to answer a com challenge—thought about that?”

“Why?” Rip asked. “It might be com repairs bringing us in. They won’t be expecting trouble and we will—we’ll have the advantage.”

But Ali was not to be shaken out of his usual dim view of the future. “All right—so we land, blaster in hand, and take the place. And they get off one little squeak to the Patrol. Well, a short life but an interesting one. And we’ll make all the Video channels for sure when we go out with rockets blasting. Nothing like having a little excitement to break the dull routine of a voyage.”

“We aren’t going to, are we—” Dane protested, “land armed, I mean?”

Ali stared at him and Rip, to Dane’s surprise, did not immediately repudiate that thought.

“Sleep rods certainly,” the Astrogator-apprentice said after a pause. “We’ll have to be prepared for the moment when they find out who we are. And you can’t re-set a hydro in a few minutes, not when we have to keep oxgy on for the others. If we were able to turn that off and work in suits it’d be a quicker job—we could dump before we set down and then pile it in at once. But this way it’s going to be piece work. And it all depends on the agents at the Stat whether we have trouble or not.”

“We had better break out the suits now,” Ali added to Rip’s estimate of the situation. “If we set down and pile out wearing suits at once it will build up our tale of being poor wrecked spacemen—”

Sleep rods or not, Dane thought to himself, the whole plan was one born of desperation. It would depend upon who manned the E-Stat and how fast the Free Traders could move once the Queen touched her fins to earth.

“Knock out their coms,” that was Ali continuing to plan. “Do that first and then we don’t have to worry about someone calling in the Patrol.”

Rip stretched. For the first time in hours he seemed to have returned to his usual placid self. “Good thing somebody in this spacer watches Video serials—Ali, you can brief us on all the latest tricks of space pirates. Nothing is so wildly improbable that you can’t make use of it sometime during a checkered career.”

He glanced over the board before he brought his hand down on a single key set a distance apart from the other controls. “Put some local color into it,” was his comment.

Dane understood. Rip had turned on the distress signal at the Queen’s nose. When she set down on the Stat field she would be flaming a banner of trouble. Next to the wan dead lights, set only when a ship had no hope of ever reaching port at all, that signal was one every spacer dreaded having to flash. But it was not the dead lights—not yet for the Queen.

Working together they brought out the space suits and readied them at the hatch. Then Weeks and Dane took up the task of tending their unconscious charges while Rip and Ali prepared for landing.

There was no change in the sleepers. And in Jellico’s cabin even Queex appeared to be influenced by the plight of its master, for instead of greeting Dane with its normal aspect of rage, the Hoobat stayed quiescent on the floor of its cage, its top claws hooked about two of the wires, its protruding eyes staring out into the room with what seemed closed to a malignant intelligence. It did not even spit as Dane passed under its abode to pour thin soup into his patient.

As for Sinbad, the cat had retreated to Dane’s cabin and steadily refused to leave the quarters he had chosen, resisting with tooth and claw the one time Dane had tried to take him back to Van Rycke’s office and his own hammock there. Afterwards the Cargo-apprentice did not try to evict him—there was comfort in seeing that plump gray body curled on the bunk he had little chance to use.

His nursing duties performed for the moment, Dane ventured into the hydro. He was practiced in tending this vital heart of the ship’s air supply. But outfitting a hydro was something else again. In his cadet years he had aided in such a program at least twice as a matter of learning the basic training of the Service. But then they had had unlimited supplies to draw on and the action had taken place under no more pressure than that exerted by the instructors. Now it was going to be a far more tricky job—

He went slowly down the aisle between the banks of green things. Plants from all over the Galaxy, grown for their contribution to the air renewal—as well as side products such as fresh fruit and vegetables, were banked there. The sweet odor of their verdant life was strong. But how could any of the four now on duty tell what was rightfully there and what might have been brought in? And could they be sure anything had been introduced?

Dane stood there, his eyes searching those lines of greens—such a mixture of greens from the familiar shade of Terra’s fields to greens tinged with shades first bestowed by other suns on other worlds—looking for one which was alien enough to be noticeable. Only Mura, who knew this garden as he knew his own cabin, could have differentiated between them. They would just dump everything and trust to luck—

He was suddenly aware of a slight movement in the banks—a shivering of stem, quiver of leaf. The mere act of his passing had set some sensitive plant to register his presence. A lacy, fern-like thing was contracting its fronds into balls. He should not stay—disturbing the peace of the hydro. But it made little difference now—within a matter of hours all this luxuriance would be thrust out to die and they would have to depend upon canned oxgy and algae tanks. Too bad—the hydro represented much time and labor on Mura’s part and Tau had medical plants growing there he had been observing for a long time.

As Dane closed the door behind him, seeing the line of balled fern which had marked his passage, he heard a faint rustling, a sound as if a wind had swept across the green room within. The imagination which was a Trader’s asset (when it was kept within bounds) suggested that the plants inside guessed—With a frown for his own sentimentality, Dane strode down the corridor and climbed to check with Rip in control.

The Astrogator-apprentice had his own problems. To bring the Queen down on the circumscribed field of an E-Stat—without a guide beam to ride in—since if they contacted the Stat they must reveal their own com was working and they would have to answer questions—was the sort of test even a seasoned pilot would tense over. Yet Rip was sitting now in the Captain’s place, his broad hands spread out on the edge of the control board waiting. And below in the engine room Ali was in Stotz’s place ready to fire and cut rockets at order. Of course they were both several years ahead of him in Service, Dane knew. But he wondered at their quick assumption of responsibility and whether he himself could ever reach that point of self-confidence—his memory turning to the bad mistake be had made on Sargol.

There was the sharp note of a warning gong, the flash of red light on the control board. They were off automatic, from here on in it was all Kip’s work. Dane strapped down at the silent com-unit and was startled a moment later when it spat words at him, translated from space code.

“Identify—identify—I-S E-Stat calling spacer—identify—”

So compelling was that demand that Dane’s fingers went to the answer key before he remembered and snatched them back, to fold his hands in his lap.

“Identify—” the expressionless voice of the translator droned over their heads.

Rip’s hands were on the control board, playing the buttons there with the precision of a musician creating some symphonic masterpiece. And the Queen was alive, now quivering through her stout plates, coming into a landing.

Dane watched the visa plate. The E-Stat asteroid was of a reasonable size, but in their eyes it was a bleak, torn mote of stuff swimming through vast emptiness.

“Identify—” the drone heightened in pitch.

Rip’s lips were compressed, he made quick calculations. And Dane saw that, though Jellico was the master, Rip was fully fit to follow in the Captain’s boot prints.

There was a sudden silence in the cabin—the demand had stopped. The agents below must now have realized that the ship with the distress signals blazing on her nose was not going to reply. Dane found he could not watch the visa plate now, Rip’s hands about their task filled his whole range of sight.

He knew that Shannon was using every bit of his skill and knowledge to jockey them into the position where they could ride their tail rockets down to the scorched rock of the E-Stat field. Perhaps it wasn’t as smooth a landing as Jellico could have made. But they did it. Rip’s hands were quiet, again that patch of darkness showed on the back of his tunic. He made no move from his seat.

“Secure—” Ali’s voice floated up to them.

Dane unbuckled his safety webbing and got up, looking to Shannon for orders. This was Rip’s plan they were to carry through. Then something moved him to give honor where it was due. He touched that bowed shoulder before him.

“Fin landing, brother! Four points and down!”

Rip glanced up, a grin made him look his old self. “Ought to have a recording of that for the Board when I go up for my pass-through.”

Dane matched his smile. “Too bad we didn’t have someone out there with a tri-dee machine.”

“More likely it’d be evidence at our trial for piracy—” their words must have reached Ali on the ship’s inter-com, for his deflating reply came back, to remind them of why they had made that particular landing. “Do we move now?”

“Check first,” Rip said into the mike.

Dane looked at the visa-plate. Against a background of jagged rock teeth was the bubble of the E-Stat housing—more than three-quarters of it being in the hollowed out sections below the surface of the miniature world which supported it, as Dane knew. But a beam of light shown from the dome to center on the grounded Queen. They had not caught the Stat agents napping.

They made the rounds of the spacer, checking on each of the semi-conscious men. Ali had ready the artificial oxgy tanks—they must move fast once they began the actual task of clearing and restocking the hydro.

“Hope you have a good story ready,” he commented as the other three joined him by the hatch to don the suits which would enable them to cross the airless, heatless surface of the asteroid.

“We have a poisoned hydro,” Dane said.

“One look at the plants we dump will give you the lie. They won’t accept our story without investigation.”

Dane was aroused. Did Ali think he was a stupid as all that? “If you’d take a look in there now you’d believe me,” he snapped.

“What did you do?” Ali sounded genuinely interested.

“Chucked a heated can of lacoil over a good section. It’s wilting down fast in big patches.”

Rip snorted. “Good old lacoil. You drink it, you wash in it, and now you kill off the Hydro with it. Maybe we can give the company an extra testimonial for the official jabber and collect when we hit Terra. All right—Weeks,” he spoke to the little man, “you listen in on the com—it’s tuned to our helmet units. We’ll climb into these pipe suits and see how many tears we can wring out of the Eysies with our sad, sad tale.”

They got into the awkward, bulky suits and squeezed into the hatch while Weeks slammed the lock door at their backs and operated the outer opening. Then they were looking out across the ground, still showing signs of the heat of their landing, and lighted by the dome beam.

“Nobody hurrying out with an aid and comfort kit,” Rip’s voice sounded in Dane’s earphones. “A little slack aren’t they?”

Slack—or was it that the Eysies had recognized the Queen and was preparing the sort of welcome the remnant of her crew could not withstand? Dane, wanting very much in his heart to be elsewhere, climbed down the ladder in Rip’s wake, both of them spotlighted by the immovable beam from the Stat dome.


Chapter XI

DESPERATE MEASURES

Measured in distance and time that rough walk in the ponderous suits across the broken terrain of the asteroid was a short one, measured by the beating of his own heart, Dane thought it much too long. There was no sign of life by the air lock of the bubble—no move on the part of the men stationed there to come to their assistance.

“D’you suppose we’re invisible?” Ali’s disembodied voice clicked in the helmet earphones.

“Maybe we’ll wish we were,” Dane could not forego that return.

Rip was almost to the air lock door now. His massively suited arm was outstretched toward the control bar when the com-unit in all three helmets caught the same demand:

“Identify!” The crisp order had enough snap to warn them that an answer was the best policy.

“Shannon—A-A of the Polestar,” Rip gave the required information. “We claim E rights—”

But would they get them? Dane wondered. There was a click loud in his ears. The metal door was yielding to Rip’s hand. At least those on the inside had taken off the lock. Dane quickened pace to join his leader.

Together the three from the Queen crowded through the lock door, saw that swing shut and seal behind them, as they stood waiting for the moment they could discard the suits and enter the dome. The odds against them could not be too high, this was a small Stat. It would not house more than four agents at the most. And they were familiar enough with the basic architecture of such stations to know just what move to make. Ali was to go to the com room where he could take over if they did meet with trouble. Dane and Rip would have to handle any dissenters in the main section. But they still hoped that luck might ride their fins and they could put over a story which would keep them out of active conflict with the Eysies.

The gauge on the wall registered safety and they unfastened the protective clasps of the suits. Standing the cumbersome things against the wall as the inner door to the lock rolled back, they walked into Eysie territory.

As Free Traders they had the advantage of being uniformly tunicked—with no Company badge to betray their ship or status. So that could well be the “Polestar” standing needle slim behind them—and not the notorious “Solar Queen.” But each, as he passed through the inner lock, gave a hitch to his belt which brought the butt of his sleep rod closer to hand. Innocuous as that weapon was, in close quarters its effects, if only temporary, was to some purpose. And since they were prepared for trouble, they might have a slight edge over the Eysies in attack.

A Company man, his tunic shabby and open in a negligent fashion at his thick throat, stood waiting for them. His unhelmeted head was grizzled, his coarse, tanned face with heavy jowls bristly enough to suggest he had not bothered to use smooth-cream for some days. An under officer of some spacer, retired to finish out the few years before pension in this nominal duty—fast letting down the standards of personal regime he had had to maintain on ship board. But he wasn’t all fat and soft living, the glance with which he measured them was shrewdly appraising.

“What’s your trouble?” he demanded without greeting. “You didn’t I-dent coming in.”

“Coms are out,” Rip replied as shortly. “We need E-Hydro—”

“First time I ever heard it that the coms were wired in with the grass,” the Eysies’s hands were on his hips—in close proximity to something which made Dane’s eyes narrow. The fellow was wearing a flare-blaster! That might be regulation equipment for an E-Stat agent on a lonely asteroid—but he didn’t quite believe it. And probably the other was quick on the draw too.

“The coms are something else,” Rip answered readily. “Our tech is working on them. But the hydro’s bad all though. We’ll have to dump and restock. Give you a voucher on Terra for the stuff.”

The Eysie agent continued to block the doorway into the station. “This is private—I-S property. You should hit the Patrol post—they cater to you F-Ts.”

“We hit the nearest E-Stat when we discovered that we were contaminated,” Rip spoke with an assumption of patience. “That’s the law, and you know it. You have to supply us and take a voucher—”

“How do I know that your voucher is worth the film it’s recorded on?” asked the agent reasonably.

“All right,” Rip shrugged. “If we have to do it the hard way, we’ll cargo dump to cover your bill.”

“Not on this field.” The other shook his head. “I’ll flash in your voucher first.”

He had them, Dane thought bitterly. Their luck had run out. Because what he was going to do was a move they dared not protest. It was one any canny agent would make in the present situation. And if they were what they said they were, they must readily agree to let him flash their voucher of payment to I-S headquarters, to be checked and okayed before they took the hydro stock.

But Rip merely registered a mild resignation. “You the Com-tech? Where’s your unit? I’ll indit at once if you want it that way.”

Whether their readiness to co-operate allayed some of the agent’s suspicion or not, he relaxed some, giving them one more stare all around before he turned on his heel. “This way.”

They followed him down the narrow hall, Rip on his heels, the others behind.

“Lonely post,” Rip commented. “I’d think you boys’d get space-whirly out here.”

The other snorted. “We’re not star lovers. And the pay’s worth a three month stretch. They take us down for Terra leave before we start talking to the Whisperers.”

“How many of you here at a time?” Rip edged the question in casually.

But the other might have been expecting it by the way he avoided giving a direct answer. “Enough to run the place—and not enough to help you clean out your wagon,” he was short about it. “Any dumping you do is strictly on your own. You’ve enough hands on a spacer that size to manage—”

Rip laughed. “Far be it from me to ask an Eysie to do any real work,” was his counter. “We know all about you Company men—”

But the agent did not take fire at that jib. Instead he pushed back a panel and they were looking into com-unit room where another man in the tunic of the I-S lounged on what was by law twenty-four hour duty, divided into three watches.

“These F-Ts want to flash a voucher request through,” their guide informed the tech. The other, interested, gave them a searching once-over before he pushed a small scriber toward Rip.

“It’s all yours—clear ether,” he reported.

Ali stood with his back to the wall and Dane still lingered in the portal. Both of them fixed their attention on Rip’s left hand. If he gave the agreed upon signal! Their fingers were linked loosely in their belts only an inch or so from their sleep rods.

With his right hand Rip scooped up the scribbler while the Com-tech half turned to make adjustments to the controls, picking up a speaker to call the I-S headquarters.

Rip’s left index finger snapped across his thumb to form a circle. Ali’s rod did not even leave his belt, it tilted up and the invisible deadening stream from it centered upon the seated tech. At the same instant Dane shot at the agent who had guided them there. The latter had time for a surprised grunt and his hand was at his blaster as he sagged to his knees and then relaxed on the floor. The Tech slumped across the call board as if sleep had overtaken him at his post.

Rip crossed the room and snapped off the switch which opened the wire for broadcasting. While Ali, with Dane’s help, quietly and effectively immobilized the Eysies with their own belts.

“There should be at least three men here,” Rip waited by the door. “We have to get them all under control before we start work.”

However, the interior of the bubble, extending as it did on levels beneath the outer crust of the asteroid, was not an easy place to search. An enemy, warned of the invasion, could easily keep ahead of the party from the Queen, spying on them at his leisure or preparing traps for them. In the end, afraid of wasting time, they contented themselves with locking the doors of the corridor leading to the lower levels, making ready to raid the storeroom they had discovered during their search.

Emergency hydro supplies consisted mainly of algae which could be stored in tanks and hastily put to use—as the plants now in the Queen took much longer to grow even under forcing methods. Dane volunteered to remain inside the E-Stat and assemble the necessary containers at the air lock while the other two, having had more experience, went back to the spacer to strip the hydro and prepare to switch contents.

But, when Rip and Ali left, the younger Cargo-apprentice began to find the bubble a haunted place. He took the sealed containers out of their storage racks, stood them on a small hand truck, and pushed them to the foot of the stairs, up which he then climbed carrying two of the cylinders at a time.

The swish of the air current through the narrow corridors made a constant murmur of sound, but he found himself listening for something else, for a footfall other than his own, for the betraying rasp of clothing against a wall—for even a whisper of voice. And time and time again he paused suddenly to listen—sure that the faintest hint of such a sound had reached his ears. He had a dozen containers lined up when the welcome signal reached him by the com-unit of his field helmet. To transfer the cylinders to the lock, get out, and then open the outer door, did not take long. But as he waited he still listened for a sound which did not come—the notice, that someone besides himself was free to move about the Stat.

Not knowing just how many of the supply tins were needed, he worked on transferring all there were in the storage racks to the upper corridor and the lock. But he still had half a dozen left to pass through when Rip sent a message that he was coming in.

Out of his pressure suit, the Astrogator-apprentice stepped lightly into the corridor, looked at the array of containers and shook his head.

“We don’t need all those. No, leave them—” he added as Dane, with a sigh, started to pick up two for a return trip. “There’s something more important just now—” He turned into the side hall which led to the com room.

Both the I-S men had awakened. The Com-tech appeared to accept his bonds philosophically. He was quiet and flat on his back, staring pensively at the ceiling. But the other agent had made a worm’s progress half across the room and Rip had to halt in haste to prevent stepping on him.

Shannon stooped and, hooking his fingers in the other’s tunic, heaved him back while the helpless man favored them with some of the ripest speech—and NOT Trade Lingo—Dane had ever heard. Rip waited until the man began to run down and then he broke in with his pleasant soft drawl.

“Oh, sure, we’re all that. But time runs on, Eysie, and I’d like a couple of answers which may mean something to you. First—when do you expect your relief?”

That set the agent off again. And his remarks—edited—were that no something, something F-T was going to get any something, something information out of him!

But it was his companion in misfortune—the Com-tech—who guessed the reason behind Rip’s question.

“Cut jets!” he advised the other. “They’re just being soft-hearted. I take it,” he spoke over the other agent’s sputtering to Rip, “that you’re worried about leaving us fin down—That’s it, isn’t it?”

Rip nodded. “In spite of what you think about us,” he replied, “We’re not Patrol Posted outlaws—”

“No, you’re just from a plague ship,” the Com-tech remarked calmly. And his words struck his comrade dumb. “Solar Queen?”

“You got the warn-off then?”

“Who didn’t? You really have plague on board?” The thought did not appear to alarm the Com-tech unduly. But his fellow suddenly heaved his bound body some distance away from the Free Traders and his face displayed mixed emotions—most of them fearful.

“We have something—probably supplied,” Rip straightened. “Might pass along to your bosses that we know that. Now suppose you tell me about your relief. When is it due?”

“Not until after we take off on the long orbit if you leave us like this. On the other hand,” the other added coolly, “I don’t see how you can do otherwise. We’ve still got those—” with his chin he pointed to the com-unit.

“After a few alterations,” Rip amended. The bulk of the com was in a tightly sealed case which they would need a flamer to open. But he could and did wreak havoc with the exposed portions. The tech watching this destruction spouted at least two expressions his companion had not used. But when Rip finished he was his unruffled self again.

“Now,” Rip drew his sleep rod. “A little rest and when you wake it will all be a bad dream.” He carefully beamed each man into slumber and helped Dane strip off their bonds. But before he left the room he placed on the recorder the voucher for the supplies they had taken. The Queen was not stealing—under the law she still had some shadow of rights.

Suited they crossed the rough rock to the ship. And there about the fins, already frozen into brittle spikes was a tangle of plants—the rich result of years of collecting.

“Did you find anything?” Dane asked as they rounded that mess on their way to the ladder.

Rip’s voice came back through the helmet com. “Nothing we know how to interpret. I wish Frank or Craig had had a chance to check. We took tri-dees of everything before we dumped. Maybe they can learn something from these when—”

His voice trailed off leaving that “when” to ring in both their minds. It was such an important “when.” When would either the steward or the Medic recover enough to view those tri-dee shots? Or was that “when” really an ominous “if?”

Back in the Queen, sealed once more for blast-off, they took their stations. Dane speculated as to the course Rip had set—were they just going to wander about the system hoping to escape notice until they had somehow solved their problem? Or did Shannon have some definite port in mind? He did not have time to ask before they lifted. But once they were space borne again he voiced his question.

Rip’s face was serious. “Frankly—” he began and then hesitated for a long moment before he added, “I don’t know. If we can only get the Captain or Craig on their feet again—”

“One thing,” Ali materialized to join them, “Sinbad’s back in the hydro. And this morning you couldn’t get him inside the door. It’s not a very good piece of evidence—”

No, it wasn’t but they clung to it as backing for their actions of the past few hours. The cat that had shown such a marked distaste for the company of the stricken, and then for the hydro, was now content to visit the latter as if some evil he has sensed there had been cleansed with the dumping of the garden. They had not yet solved their mystery but another clue had come into their hands.

But now the care of the sick occupied hours and Rip insisted that a watch be maintained by the com—listening in for news which might concern the Queen. They had done a good job at silencing the E-Stat, for they had been almost six hours in space before the news of their raid was beamed to the nearest Patrol post.

Ali laughed. “Told you we’d be pirates,” he said when he listened to that account of their descent upon the I-S station. “Though I didn’t see all that blaster work they’re now raving about. You’d think we fought a major battle there!”

Weeks growled. “The Eysies are trying to make it look good. Make us into outlaws—”

But Rip did not share in the general amusement at the wild extravagation of the report from the ether. “I notice they didn’t say anything about the voucher we left.”

Ali’s cynical smile curled. “Did you expect them to? The Eysies think they have us by the tail fins now—why should they give us any benefit of the doubt? We junked all our boosters behind us on this take-off, and don’t forget that, my friends.”

Weeks looked confused. “But I thought you said we could do this legal,” he appealed to Rip. “If we’re Patrol Posted as outlaws—”

“They can’t do any more to us than they can for running in a plague ship,” Ali pointed out. “Either will get us blasted if we happen into the wrong vector now. So—what do we do?”

“We find out what the plague really is,” Dane said and meant every word of it.

“How?” Ali inquired. “Through some of Craig’s magic?”

Dane was forced to answer with the truth. “I don’t know yet—but it’s our only chance.”

Rip rubbed his eyes wearily. “Don’t think I’m disagreeing—but just where do we start? We’ve already combed Frank’s quarters and Kosti’s—we cleaned out the hydro—”

“Those tri-dee shots of the hydro—have you checked them yet?” Dane countered.

Without a word Ali arose and left the cabin. He came back with a microfilm roll. Fitting it into the large projector he focused it on the wall and snapped the button.

They were looking at the hydro—down the length of space so accurately recorded that it seemed they might walk straight into it. The greenery of the plants was so vivid and alive Dane felt that he could reach out and pluck a leaf. Inch by inch he examined those ranks, looking for something which was not in order, had no right to be there.

The long shot of the hydro as it had been merged into a series of sectional groupings. In silence they studied it intently, using all their field lore in an attempt to spot what each one was certain must be there somewhere. But they were all handicapped by their lack of intimate knowledge of the garden.

“Wait!” Weeks’ voice scaled up. “Left hand corner—there!” His pointing hand broke and shadowed the portion he was calling to their attention. Ali jumped to the projector and made a quick adjustment.

Plants four and five times life size glowed green on the wall. What Weeks had caught they all saw now—ragged leaves, stripped stems.

“Chewed!” Dane supplied the answer.

It was only one species of plant which had been so mangled. Other varieties in the same bank showed no signs of disturbance. But all of that one type had at least one stripped branch and two were virtual skeletons.

“A pest!” said Rip.

“But Sinbad,” Dane began a protest before the memory of the cat’s peculiar actions of the past weeks stopped him. Sinbad had slipped up, the hunter who had kept the Queen free of the outré alien life which came aboard from time to time with cargo, had not attacked that which had ravaged the hydro plants. Or if he had done so, he had not, after his usual custom, presented the bodies of the slain to any crew member.

“It looks as if we have something at last,” Ali observed and someone echoed that with a sigh of heartdeep relief.


Chapter XII

STRANGE BEHAVIOR OF A HOOBAT

“All right, so we think we know a little more,” Ali added a moment later. “Just what are we going to do? We can’t stay in space forever—there’re the small items of fuel and supplies and—”

Rip had come to a decision. “We’re not going to remain space borne,” he stated with the confidence of one who now saw an open road before him.

“Luna—” Weeks was plainly doubtful.

“No. Not after that warn-off. Terra!”

For a second or two the other three stared at Rip agape. The audacity and danger of what he suggested was a little stunning. Since men had taken regularly to space no ship had made a direct landing on their home planet—all had passed through the quarantine on Luna. It was not only risky—it was so unheard of that for some minutes they did not understand him.

“We try to set down at Terraport,” Dane found his tongue first, “and they flame us out—”

Rip was smiling. “The trouble with you,” he addressed them all, “is that you think of earth only in terms of Terraport—”

“Well, there is the Patrol field at Stella,” Weeks agreed doubtfully. “But we’d be right in the middle of trouble there—”

“Did we have a regular port on Sargol—on Limbo—on fifty others I can name out of our log?” Rip wanted to know.

Ali voiced a new objection. “So—we have the luck of Jones and we set down somewhere out of sight. Then what do we do?”

“We seal ship until we find the pest—then we bring in a Medic and get to the bottom of the whole thing,” Rip’s confidence was contagious. Dane almost believed that it could be done that way.

“Did you ever think,” Ali cut in, “what would happen if we were wrong—if the Queen really is a plague carrier?”

“I said—we seal the ship—tight,” countered Shannon. “And when we earth it’ll be where we won’t have visitors to infect—”

“And that is where?” Ali, who knew the deserts of Mars better than he did the greener planet from which his stock had sprung, pursued the question.

“Right in the middle of the Big Burn!”

Dane, Terra born and bred, realized first what Rip was planning and what it meant. Sealed off was right—the Queen would be amply protected from investigation. Whether her crew would survive was another matter—whether she could even make a landing there was also to be considered.

The Big Burn was the horrible scar left by the last of the Atomic Wars—a section of radiation poisoned land comprising hundreds of square miles—land which generations had never dared to penetrate. Originally the survivors of that war had shunned the whole continent which it disfigured. It had been close to two centuries before men had gone into the still wholesome land laying to the far west and the south. And through the years, the avoidance of the Big Burn had become part of their racial instinct as they shrank from it. It was a symbol of something no Terran wanted to remember.

But Ali now had only one question to ask. “Can we do it?”

“We’ll never know until we try,” was Rip’s reply.

“The Patrol’ll be watching—” that was Weeks. With his Venusian background he had less respect for the dangers of the Big Burn than he did for the forces of Law and order which ranged the star lanes.

“They’ll be watching the route lanes,” Rip pointed out. “They won’t expect a ship to come in on that vector, steering away from the ports. Why should they? As far as I know it’s never been tried since Terraport was laid out. It’ll be tricky—” And he himself would have to bear most of the responsibility for it. “But I believe that it can be done. And we can’t just roam around out here. With I-S out for our blood and a Patrol warn-off it won’t do us any good to head for Luna—”

None of his listeners could argue with that. And, Dane’s spirits began to rise, after all they knew so little about the Big Burn—it might afford them just the temporary sanctuary they needed. In the end they agreed to try it, mainly because none of them could see any alternative, except the too dangerous one of trying to contact the authorities and being summarily treated as a plague ship before they could defend themselves.

And their decision was ably endorsed not long afterwards by a sardonic warning on the com—a warning which Ali who had been tending the machine passed along to them.

“Greetings, pirates—”

“What do you mean?” Dane was heating broth to feed to Captain Jellico.

“The word has gone out—our raid on the E-Stat is now a matter of history and Patrol record—we’ve been Posted!”

Dane felt a cold finger drawn along his backbone. Now they were fair game for the whole system. Any Patrol ship that wanted could shoot them down with no questions asked. Of course that had always been a possibility from the first after their raid on the E-Stat. But to realize that it was now true was a different matter altogether. This was one occasion when realization was worse than anticipation. He tried to keep his voice level as he answered:

“Let us hope we can pull off Rip’s plan—”

“We’d better. What about the Big Burn anyway, Thorson? Is it as tough as the stories say?”

“We don’t know what it’s like. It’s never been explored—or at least those who tried to explore its interior never reported in afterwards. As far as I know it’s left strictly alone.”

“Is it still all ‘hot’?”

“Parts of it must be. But all—we don’t know.”

With the bottle of soup in his hand Dane climbed to Jellico’s cabin. And he was so occupied with the problem at hand that at first he did not see what was happening in the small room. He had braced the Captain up into a half-sitting position and was patiently ladling the liquid into his mouth a spoonful at a time when a thin squeak drew his attention to the top of Jellico’s desk.

From the half open lid of a microtape compartment something long and dark projected, beating the air feebly. Dane, easing the Captain back on the bunk, was going to investigate when the Hoobat broke its unnatural quiet of the past few days with an ear-splitting screech of fury. Dane struck at the bottom of its cage—the move its master always used to silence it—But this time the results were spectacular.

The cage bounced up and down on the spring which secured it to the ceiling of the cabin and the blue feathered horror slammed against the wires. Either its clawing had weakened them, or some fault had developed, for they parted and the Hoobat came through them to land with a sullen plop on the desk. Its screams stopped as suddenly as they had begun and it scuttled on its spider-toad legs to the microtape compartment, acting with purposeful dispatch and paying no attention to Dane.

Its claws shot out and with ease it extracted from the compartment a creature as weird as itself—one which came fighting and of which Dane could not get a very clear idea. Struggling they battled across the surface of the desk and flopped to the floor. There the hunted broke loose from the hunter and fled with fantastic speed into the corridor. And before Dane could move the Hoobat was after it.

He gained the passage just in time to see Queex disappear down the ladder, clinging with the aid of its pincher claws, apparently grimly determined to catch up with the thing it pursued. And Dane went after them.

There was no sign of the creature who fled on the next level. But Dane made no move to recapture the blue hunter who squatted at the foot of the ladder staring unblinkingly into space. Dane waited, afraid to disturb the Hoobat. He had not had a good look at the thing which had run from Queex—but he knew it was something which had no business aboard the Queen. And it might be the disturbing factor they were searching for. If the Hoobat would only lead him to it—

The Hoobat moved, rearing up on the tips of its six legs, its neckless head slowly revolving on its puffy shoulders. Along the ridge of its backbone its blue feathers were rising into a crest much as Sinbad’s fur rose when the cat was afraid or angry. Then, without any sign of haste, it crawled over and began descending the ladder once more, heading toward the lower section which housed the Hydro.

Dane remained where he was until it had almost reached the deck of the next level and then he followed, one step at a time. He was sure that the Hoobat’s peculiar construction of body prevented it from looking up—unless it turned upon its back—but he did not want to do anything which would alarm it or deter Queex from what he was sure was a methodical chase.

Queex stopped again at the foot of the second descent and sat in its toad stance, apparently brooding, a round blue blot. Dane clung to the ladder and prayed that no one would happen along to frighten it. Then, just as he was beginning to wonder if it had lost contact with its prey, once more it arose and with the same speed it had displayed in the Captain’s cabin it shot along the corridor to the hydro.

To Dane’s knowledge the door of the garden was not only shut but sealed. And how either the stranger or Queex could get through it he did not see.

“What the—?” Ali clattered down the ladder to halt abruptly as Dane waved at him.

“Queex,” the Cargo-apprentice kept his voice to a half whisper, “it got loose and chased something out of the Old Man’s cabin down here.”

“Queex—!” Ali began and then shut his mouth, moving noiselessly up to join Dane.

The short corridor ended at the hydro entrance. And Dane had been right, there they found the Hoobat, crouched at the closed panel, its claws clicking against the metal as it picked away useless at the portal which would not admit it.

“Whatever it’s after must be in there,” Dane said softly.

And the hydro, stripped of its luxuriance of plant life, occupied now by the tanks of green scum, would not afford too many hiding places. They had only to let Queex in and keep watch.

As they came up the Hoobat flattened to the floor and shrilled its war cry, spitting at their boots and then flashing claws against the stout metal enforced hide. However, though it was prepared to fight them, it showed no signs of wishing to retreat, and for that Dane was thankful. He quickly pressed the release and tugged open the panel.

At the first crack of its opening Queex turned with one of those bursts of astounding speed and clawed for admittance, its protest against the men forgotten. And it squeezed through a space Dane would have thought too narrow to accommodate its bloated body. Both men slipped around the door behind it and closed the panel tight.

The air was not as fresh as it had been when the plants were there. And the vats which had taken the places of the banked greenery were certainly nothing to look at. Queex humped itself into a clod of blue, immovable, halfway down the aisle.

Dane tried to subdue his breathing, to listen. The Hoobat’s actions certainly argued that the alien thing had taken refuge here, though how it had gotten through—? But if it were in the hydro it was well hidden.

He had just begun to wonder how long they must wait when Queex again went into action. Its clawed front legs upraised, it brought the pinchers deliberately together and sawed one across the other, producing a rasping sound which was almost a vibration in the air. Back and forth, back and forth, moved the claws. Watching them produced almost a hypnotic effect, and the reason for such a maneuver was totally beyond the human watchers.

But Queex knew what it was doing all right, Ali’s fingers closed on Dane’s arm in a pincher grip as painful as if he had been equipped with the horny armament of the Hoobat.

Something, a flitting shadow, had rounded one vat and was that much closer to the industrious fiddler on the floor. By some weird magic of its own the Hoobat was calling its prey to it.

Scrape, scrape—the unmusical performance continued with monotonous regularity. Again the shadow flashed—one vat closer. The Hoobat now presented the appearance of one charmed by its own art—sunk in a lethargy of weird music making.

At last the enchanted came into full view, though lingering at the round side of a container, very apparently longing to flee again, but under some compulsion to approach its enchanter. Dane blinked, not quite sure that his eyes were not playing tricks on him. He had seen the almost transparent globe “bogies” of Limbo, had been fascinated by the weird and ugly pictures in Captain Jellico’s collection of tri-dee prints. But this creature was as impossible in its way as the horrific blue thing dragging it out of concealment.

It walked erect on two threads of legs, with four knobby joints easily detected. A bulging abdomen sheathed in the horny substance of a beetle’s shell ended in a sharp point. Two pairs of small legs, folded close to the much smaller upper portion of its body, were equipped with thorn shack terminations. The head, which constantly turned back and forth on the armor plated shoulders, was long and narrow and split for half its length by a mouth above which were deep pits which must harbor eyes, though actual organs were not visible to the watching men. It was a palish gray in color—which surprised Dane a little. His memory of the few seconds he had seen it on the Captain’s desk had suggested that it was much darker. And erect as it was, it stood about eighteen inches high.

With head turning rapidly, it still hesitated by the side of the vat, so nearly the color of the metal that unless it moved it was difficult to distinguish. As far as Dane could see the Hoobat was paying it no attention. Queex might be lost in a happy dream, the result of its own fiddling. Nor did the rhythm of that scraping vary.

The nightmare thing made the last foot in a rush of speed which reduced it to a blur, coming to a halt before the Hoobat. Its front legs whipped out to strike at its enemy. But Queex was no longer dreaming. This was the moment the Hoobat had been awaiting. One of the sawing claws opened and closed, separating the head of the lurker from its body. And before either of the men could interfere Queex had dismembered the prey with dispatch.

“Look there!” Dane pointed.

The Hoobat held close the body of the stranger and where the ashy corpse came into contact with Queex’s blue feathered skin it was slowly changing hue—as if some of the color of its hunter had rubbed off it.

“Chameleon!” Ali went down on one knee the better to view the grisly feast now in progress. “Watch out!” he added sharply as Dane came to join him.

One of the thin upper limbs lay where Queex had discarded it. And from the needle tip was oozing some colorless drops of fluid. Poison?

Dane looked around for something which he could use to pick up the still jerking appendage. But before he could find anything Queex had appropriated it. And in the end they had to allow the Hoobat its victim in its entirety. But once Queex had consumed its prey it lapsed into its usual hunched immobility. Dane went for the cage and working gingerly he and Ali got the creature back in captivity. But all the evidence now left were some smears on the floor of the hydro, smears which Ali blotted up for future research in the lab.

An hour later the four who now comprised the crew of the Queen gathered in the mess for a conference. Queex was in its cage on the table before them, asleep after all its untoward activity.

“There must be more than just one,” Weeks said. “But how are we going to hunt them down? With Sinbad?”

Dane shook his head. Once the Hoobat had been caged and the more prominent evidence of the battle scraped from the floor, he had brought the cat into the hydro and forced him to sniff at the site of the engagement. The result was that Sinbad had gone raving mad and Dane’s hands were now covered with claw tears which ran viciously deep. It was plain that the ship’s cat was having none of the intruders, alive or dead. He had fled to Dane’s cabin where he had taken refuge on the bunk and snarled wild eyed when anyone looked in from the corridor.

“Queex has to do it,” Rip said. “But will it hunt unless it is hungry?”

He surveyed the now comatose creature skeptically. They had never seen the Captain’s pet eat anything except some pellets which Jellico kept in his desk, and they were aware that the intervals between such feedings were quite lengthy. If they had to wait the usual time for Queex to feel hunger pangs once more, they might have to wait a long time.

“We should catch one alive,” Ali remarked thoughtfully. “If we could get Queex to fiddle it out to where we could net it—”

Weeks nodded eagerly. “A small net like those the Salariki use. Drop it over the thing—”

While Queex still drowsed in its cage, Weeks went to work with fine cord. Holding the color changing abilities of the enemy in mind they could not tell how many of the creatures might be roaming the ship. It could only be proved where they weren’t by where Sinbad would consent to stay. So they made plans which included both the cat and the Hoobat.

Sinbad, much against his will, was buckled into an improvised harness by which he could be controlled without the handler losing too much valuable skin.

And then the hunt started at the top of the ship, proceeding downward section by section. Sinbad raised no protest in the control cabin, nor in the private cabins of the officers’ thereabouts. If they could interpret his reactions the center section was free of the invaders. So with Dane in control of the cat and Ali carrying the caged Hoobat, they descended once more to the level which housed the hydro galley, steward’s quarters and ship’s sick bay.

Sinbad proceeded on his own four feet into the galley and the mess. He was not uneasy in the sick bay, nor in Mura’s cabin, and this time he even paced the hydro without being dragged—much to their surprise as they had thought that the headquarters of the stowaways.

“Could there only have been one?” Weeks wanted to know as he stood by ready with the net in his hands.

“Either that—or else we’re wrong about the hydro being their main hideout. If they’re afraid of Queex now they may have withdrawn to the place they feel the safest,” Rip said.

It was when they were on the ladder leading to the cargo level that Sinbad balked. He planted himself firmly and yowled against further progress until Dane, with the harness, pulled him along.

“Look at Queex!”

They followed Weeks’ order. The Hoobat was no longer lethargic. It was raising itself, leaning forward to clasp the bars of its cage, and now it uttered one of its screams of rage. And as Ali went on down the ladder it rattled the bars in a determined effort for freedom. Sinbad, spitting and yowling refused to walk. Rip nodded to Ali.

“Let it out.”

Tipped out of its cage the Hoobat scuttled forward, straight for the panel which opened on the large cargo space and there waited, as if for them to open the portal and admit the hunter to its hunting territory.


Chapter XIII

OFF THE MAP

Across the lock of the panel was the seal set in place by Van Rycke before the spacer had lifted from Sargol. Under Dane’s inspection it showed no crack. To all evidence the hatch had not been opened since they left the perfumed planet. And yet the hunting Hoobat was sure that the invading pests were within.

It took only a second for Dane to commit an act which, if he could not defend it later, would blacklist him out of space. He twisted off the official seal which should remain there while the freighter was space borne.

With Ali’s help he shouldered aside the heavy sliding panel and they looked into the cargo space, now filled with the red wood from Sargol. The redwood! When he saw it Dane was struck with their stupidity. Aside from the Koros stones in the stone box, only the wood had come from the Salariki world. What if the pests had not been planted by I-S agents, but were natives of Sargol being brought in with the wood?

The men remained at the hatch to allow the Hoobat freedom in its hunt. And Sinbad crouched behind them, snarling and giving voice to a rumbling growl which was his negative opinion of the proceedings.

They were conscious of an odor—the sharp, unidentifiable scent Dane had noticed during the loading of the wood. It was not unpleasant—merely different. And it—or something—had an electrifying effect upon Queex. The blue hunter climbed with the aid of its claws to the top of the nearest pile of wood and there settled down. For a space it was apparently contemplating the area about it.

Then it raised its claws and began the scraping fiddle which once before had drawn its prey out of hiding. Oddly enough that dry rasp of sound had a quieting effect upon Sinbad and Dane felt the drag of the harness lessen as the cat moved, not toward escape, but to the scene of action, humping himself at last in the open panel, his round eyes fixed upon the Hoobat with a fascinated stare.

Scrape-scrape—the monotonous noise bit into the ears of the men, gnawed at their nerves.

“Ahhh—” Ali kept his voice to a whisper, but his hand jerked to draw their attention to the right at deck level. Dane saw that flicker along a log. The stowaway pest was now the same brilliant color as the wood, indistinguishable until it moved, which probably explained how it had come on board.

But that was only the first arrival. A second flash of movement and a third followed. Then the hunted remained stationary, able to resist for a period the insidious summoning of Queex. The Hoobat maintained an attitude of indifference, of being so wrapped in its music that nothing else existed. Rip whispered to Weeks:

“There’s one to the left—on the very end of that log. Can you net it?”

The small oiler slipped the coiled mesh through his calloused hands. He edged around Ali, keeping his eyes on the protuding protruding bump of red upon red which was his quarry.

“—two—three—four—five—” Ali was counting under his breath but Dane could not see that many. He was sure of only four, and those because he had seen them move.

The things were ringing in the pile of wood where the Hoobat fiddled, and two had ascended the first logs toward their doom. Weeks went down on one knee, ready to cast his net, when Dane had his first inspiration. He drew his sleep rod, easing it out of its holster, set the lever on “spray” and beamed it at three of those humps.

Rip seeing what he was doing, dropped a hand on Weeks’ shoulder, holding the oiler in check. A hump moved, slid down the rounded side of the log into the narrow aisle of deck between two piles of wood. It lay quiet, a bright scarlet blot against the gray.

Then Weeks did move, throwing his net over it and jerking the draw string tight, at the same time pulling the captive toward him over the deck. But, even as it came, the scarlet of the thing’s body was fast fading to an ashy pink and at last taking on a gray as dull as the metal on which it lay—the complete camouflage. Had they not had it enmeshed they might have lost it altogether, so well did it now blend with the surface.

The other two in the path of the ray had not lost their grip upon the logs, and the men could not advance to scoop them up. Not while there were others not affected, free to flee back into hiding. Weeks bound the net about the captive and looked to Rip for orders.

“Deep freeze,” the acting-commander of the Queen said succinctly. “Let me see it get out of that!”

Surely the cold of the deep freeze, united to the sleep ray, would keep the creature under control until they had a chance to study it. But, as Weeks passed Sinbad on his errand, the cat was so frantic to avoid him, that he reared up on his hind legs, almost turning a somersault, snarling and spitting until Weeks was up the ladder to the next level. It was very evident that the ship’s cat was having none of this pest.

They might have been invisible and their actions non-existent as far as Queex was concerned. For the Hoobat continued its siren concert. The lured became more reckless, mounting the logs to Queex’s post in sudden darts. Dane wondered how the Hoobat proposed handling four of the creatures at once. For, although the other two which had been in the path of the ray had not moved, he now counted four climbing.

“Stand by to ray—” that was Rip.

But it would have been interesting to see how Queex was prepared to handle the four. And, though Rip had given the order to stand by, he had not ordered the ray to be used. Was he, too, interested in that?

The first red projection was within a foot of the Hoobat now and its fellows had frozen as if to allow it the honor of battle with the feathered enemy. To all appearances Queex did not see it, but when it sprang with a whir of speed which would baffle a human, the Hoobat was ready and its claws, halting their rasp, met around the wasp-thin waist of the pest, speedily cutting it in two. Only this time the Hoobat made no move to unjoint and consume the victim. Instead it squatted in utter silence, as motionless as a tri-dee print.

The heavy lower half of the creature rolled down the pile of logs to the deck and there paled to the gray of its background. None of its kind appeared to be interested in its fate. The two which had been in the path of the ray, continued to be humps on the wood, the others faced the Hoobat.

But Rip was ready to waste no more time. “Ray them!” he snapped.

All three of their sleep rods sprayed the pile, catching in passing the Hoobat. Queex’s pop eyes closed, but it showed no other sign of falling under the spell of the beam.

Certain that all the creatures in sight were now relatively harmless, the three approached the logs. But it was necessary to get into touching distance before they could even make out the outlines of the nightmare things, so well did their protective coloring conceal them. Wearing gloves Ali detached the little monsters from their holds on the wood and put them for temporary safekeeping—during a transfer to the deep freeze—into the Hoobat’s cage. Queex, they decided to leave where it was for a space, to awaken and trap any survivor which had been too wary to emerge at the first siren song. As far as they could tell the Hoobat was their only possible protection against the pest and to leave it in the center of infection was the wisest course.

Having dumped the now metal colored catch into the freeze, they held a conference.

“No plague—” Weeks breathed a sigh of relief.

“No proof of that yet,” Ali caught him up short. “We have to prove it past any reasonable doubt.”

“And how are we going to do—?” Dane began when he saw what the other had brought in from Tau’s stores. A lancet and the upper half of the creature Queex had killed in the cargo hold.

The needle pointed front feet of the thing were curled up in its death throes and it was now a dirty white shade as if the ability to change color had been lost before it matched the cotton on which it lay. With the lancet Ali forced a claw away from the body. It was oozing the watery liquid which they had seen on the one in the hydro.

“I have an idea,” he said slowly, his eyes on the mangled creature rather than on his shipmates, “that we might have escaped being attacked because they sheered off from us. But if we were clawed we might take it too. Remember those marks on the throats and backs of the rest? That might be the entry point of this poison—if poison it is—”

Dane could see the end of that line of reasoning. Rip and Ali—they couldn’t be spared. The knowledge they had would bring the Queen to earth. But a Cargo-master was excess baggage when there was no reason for trade. It was his place to try out the truth of Ali’s surmise.

But while he thought another acted. Weeks leaned over and twitched the lancet out of Ali’s fingers. Then, before any of them could move, he thrust its contaminated point into the back of his hand.

“Don’t!”

Both Dane’s cry and Rip’s hand came too late. It had been done. And Weeks sat there, looking alone and frightened, studying the drop of blood which marked the dig of the surgeon’s keen knife. But when he spoke his voice sounded perfectly natural.

“Headache first, isn’t it?”

Only Ali was outwardly unaffected by what the little man had just done. “Just be sure you have a real one,” he warned with what Dane privately considered real callousness.

Weeks nodded. “Don’t let my imagination work,” he answered shrewdly. “I know. It has to be real. How long do you suppose?”

“We don’t know,” Rip sounded tired, beaten. “Meanwhile,” he got to his feet, “we’d better set a course home—”

“Home,” Weeks repeated. To him Terra was not his own home—he had been born in the polar swamps of Venus. But to All Solarians—no matter which planet had nurtured them—Terra was home.

“You,” Rip’s big hand fell gently on the little oiler’s shoulder, “stay here with Thorson—”

“No,” Weeks shook his head. “Unless I black out, I’m riding station in the engine room. Maybe the bug won’t work on me anyway.”

And because he had done what he had done they could not deny him the right to ride his station as long as he could during the grueling hours to come.

Dane visited the cargo hold once more. To be greeted by an irate scream which assured him that Queex was again awake and on guard. Although the Hoobat was ready enough to give tongue, it still squatted in its chosen position on top of the log stack and he did not try to dislodge it. Perhaps with Queex planted in the enemies’ territory they would have nothing to fear from any pests not now confined in the deep freeze.

Rip set his course for Terra—for that plague spot on their native world where they might hide out the Queen until they could prove their point—that the spacer was not a disease ridden ship to be feared. He kept to the control cabin, shifting only between the Astrogator’s and the pilot’s station. Upon him alone rested the responsibility of bringing in the ship along a vector which crossed no well traveled space lane where the Patrol might challenge them. Dane rode out the orbiting in the Com-tech’s seat, listening in for the first warning of danger—that they had been detected.

The mechanical repetition of their list of crimes was now stale news and largely off-ether. And from all traces he could pick up, they were lost as far as the authorities were concerned. On the other hand, the Patrol might indeed be as far knowing as its propaganda stated and the Queen was running headlong into a trap. Only they had no choice in the matter.

It was the ship’s inter-com bringing Ali’s voice from the engine room which broke the concentration in the control cabin.

“Weeks’ down!”

Rip barked into the mike. “How bad?”

“He hasn’t blacked out yet. The pains in his head are pretty bad and his hand is swelling—”

“He’s given us our proof. Tell him to report off—”

But the disembodied voice which answered that was Weeks’.

“I haven’t got it as bad as the others. I’ll ride this out.”

Rip shook his head. But short-handed as they were he could not argue Weeks away from his post if the man insisted upon staying. He had other, and for the time being, more important matters before him.

How long they sweated out that descent upon their native world Dane could never afterwards have testified. He only knew that hours must have passed, until he thought groggily that he could not remember a time he was not glued in the seat which had been Tang’s, the earphones pressing against his sweating skull, his fatigue-drugged mind being held with difficulty to the duty at hand.

Sometime during that haze they made their landing. He had a dim memory of Rip sprawled across the pilot’s control board and then utter exhaustion claimed him also and the darkness closed in. When he roused it was to look about a cabin tilted to one side. Rip was still slumped in a muscle cramping posture, breathing heavily. Dane bit out a forceful word born of twinges of his own, and then snapped on the visa-plate.

For a long moment he was sure that he was not yet awake. And then, as his dazed mind supplied names for what he saw, he knew that Rip had failed. Far from being in the center—or at least well within the perimeter of the dread Big Burn—they must have landed in some civic park or national forest. For the massed green outside, the bright flowers, the bird he sighted as a brilliant flash of wind coasting color—those were not to be found in the twisted horror left by man’s last attempt to impress his will upon his resisting kind.

Well, it had been a good try, but there was no use expecting luck to ride their fins all the way, and they had had more than their share in the E-Stat affair. How long would it be before the Law arrived to collect them? Would they have time to state their case?

The faint hope that they might aroused him. He reached for the com key and a second later tore the headphones from his appalled ears. The crackle of static he knew—and the numerous strange noises which broke in upon the lanes of communication in space—but this solid, paralyzing roar was something totally new—new, and frightening.

And because it was new and he could not account for it, he turned back to regard the scene on the viewer with a more critical eye. The foliage which grew in riotous profusion was green right enough, and Terra green into the bargain—there was no mistaking that. But—Dane caught at the edge of Com-unit for support. But—What was that liver-red blossom which had just reached out to engulf a small flying thing?

Feverishly he tried to remember the little natural history he knew. Sure that what he had just witnessed was unnatural—un-Terran—and to be suspect!

He started the spy lens on its slow revolution in the Queen’s nose, to get a full picture of their immediate surroundings. It was tilted at an angle—apparently they had not made a fin-point landing this time—and sometimes it merely reflected slices of sky. But when it swept earthward he saw enough to make him believe that wherever the spacer had set down it was not on the Terra he knew.

Subconsciously he had expected the Big Burn to be barren land—curdled rock with rivers of frozen quartz, substances boiled up through the crust of the planet by the action of the atomic explosives. That was the way it had been on Limbo—on the other “burned-off” worlds they had discovered where those who had preceded mankind into the Galaxy—the mysterious, long vanished “Forerunners”—had fought their grim and totally annihilating wars.

But it would seem that the Big Burn was altogether different—at least here it was. There was no rock sterile of life outside—in fact there would appear to be too much life. What Dane could sight on his limited field of vision was a teeming jungle. And the thrill of that discovery almost made him forget their present circumstances. He was still staring bemused at the screen when Rip muttered, turned his head on his folded arms and opened his sunken eyes:

“Did we make it?” he asked dully.

Dane, not taking his eyes from that fascinating scene without, answered: “You brought us down. But I don’t know where—”

“Unless our instruments were ‘way off, we’re near to the heart of the Burn.”

“Some heart!”

“What does it look like?” Rip sounded too tired to cross the cabin and see for himself. “Barren as Limbo?”

“Hardly! Rip, did you ever see a tomato as big as a melon—At least it looks like a tomato,” Dane halted the spy lens as it focused upon this new phenomena.

“A what?” There was a note of concern in Shannon’s voice. “What’s the matter with you, Dane?”

“Come and see,” Dane willingly yielded his place to Rip but he did not step out of range of the screen. Surely that did have the likeness to a good, old fashioned earth-side tomato—but it was melon size and it hung from a bush which was close to a ten foot tree!

Rip stumbled across to drop into the Com-tech’s place. But his expression of worry changed to one of simple astonishment as he saw that picture.

“Where are we?”

“You name it,” Dane had had longer to adjust, the excitement of an explorer sighting virgin territory worked in his veins, banishing fatigue. “It must be the Big Burn!”

“But,” Rip shook his head slowly as if with that gesture to deny the evidence before his eyes, “that country’s all bare rock. I’ve seen pictures—”

“Of the outer rim,” Dane corrected, having already solved that problem for himself. “This must be farther in than any survey ship ever came. Great Spirit of Outer Space, what has happened here?”

Rip had enough technical training to know how to get part of the answer. He leaned halfway across the com, and was able to flick down a lever with the very tip of his longest finger. Instantly the cabin was filled with a clicking so loud as to make an almost continuous drone of sound.

Dane knew that danger signal, he didn’t need Rip’s words to underline it for him.

“That’s what’s happened. This country is pile ‘hot’ out there!”


Chapter XIV

SPECIAL MISSION

That click, the dial beneath the counter, warned them that they were as cut off from the luxuriance outside as if they were viewing a scene on Mars or Sargol from their present position. To go beyond the shielding walls of the spacer into that riotous green world would sentence them to death as surely as if the Patrol was without, with a flamer trained on their hatch. There was no escape from that radiation—it would be in the air one breathed, strike though one’s skin. And yet the wilderness flourished and beckoned.

“Mutations—” Rip mused. “Space, Tau’d go wild if he could see it!”

And that mention of the Medic brought them back to the problem which had earthed them. Dane leaned back against the slanting wall of the cabin.

“We have to have a Medic—”

Rip nodded without looking away from the screen.

“Can one of the flitters be shielded?” The Cargo-apprentice persisted.

“That’s a thought! Ali should know—” Rip reached for the inter-com mike. “Engines!”

“So you are alive?” Ali’s voice had a bite in it. “About time you’re contacting. Where are we? Besides being lopsided from a recruit’s scrambled set-down, I mean.”

“In the Big Burn. Come top-side. Wait—how’s Weeks?”

“He has a devil’s own headache, but he hasn’t blacked out yet. Looks like his immunity holds in part. I’ve sent him bunkside for a while with a couple of pain pills. So we’ve made it—”

He must have left to join them for when Rip answered: “After a fashion,” into the mike there was no reply.

And the clang of his boot plates on the ladder heralded his arrival at their post. There was an interval for him to view the outer world and accept the verdict of the counter and then Rip voiced Dane’s question:

“Can we shield one of the flitters well enough to cross that? I can’t take the Queen up and earth her again—”

“I know you can’t!” the acting-engineer cut in. “Maybe you could get her off world, but you’ll come close to blasting out when you try for another landing. Fuel doesn’t go on forever—though some of you space jockeys seem to think it does. The flitter? Well, we’ve some spare rocket linings. But it’s going to be a job and a half to get those beaten out and reassembled. And, frankly, the space whirly one who flies her had better be suited and praying loudly when he takes off. We can always try—” He was frowning, already busied with the problem which was one for his department.

So with intervals of snatched sleep, hurried meals and the time which must be given to tending their unconscious charges, Rip and Dane became only hands to be directed by Ali’s brain and garnered knowledge. Weeks slept off the worst of his pain and, though he complained of weakness, he tottered back on duty to help.

The flitter—an air sled intended to hold three men and supplies for exploring trips on strange-worlds—was first stripped of all non-essentials until what remained was not much more than the pilot’s seat and the motor. Then they labored to build up a shielding of the tough radiation dulling alloy which was used to line rocket tubes. And they could only praise the foresight of Stotz who carried such a full supply of spare parts and tools. It was a task over which they often despaired, and Ali improvised frantically, performing weird adjustments of engineering structure. He was still unsatisfied when they had done.

“She’ll fly,” he admitted. “And she’s the best we can do. But it’ll depend a lot on how far she has to go over ‘hot’ country. Which way do we head her?”

Rip had been busy with a map of Terra—a small thing he had discovered in one of the travel recordings carried for crew entertainment.

“The Big Burn covers three quarters of this continent. There’s no use going north—the devastated area extends into the arctic regions. I’d say west—there’s some fringe settlements on the sea coast and we need to contact a frontier territory. Now do we have it straight—? I take the flitter, get a Medic and bring him back?”

Dane cut in at that point. “Correct course! You stay here. If the Queen has to lift, you’re the only one who can take her off world. And the same’s true for Ali. I can’t ride out a blast-off in either the pilot’s or the engineer’s seat. And Weeks is on the sick list. So I’m elected to do the Medic hunting—”

They were forced to agree to that. He was no hero, Dane thought, as he gave a last glance about his cabin early the next morning. The small cubby, utilitarian and bare as it was, never looked more inviting or secure. No, no hero, it was merely a matter of common sense. And although his imagination—that deeply hidden imagination with which few of his fellows credited him—shrank from the ordeal ahead, he had not the slightest intention of allowing that to deter him.

The space suit, which had been bulky and clumsy enough on the E-Stat asteroid under limited gravity, was almost twice as poorly adapted to progression on earth. But he climbed into it with Rip’s aid, while Ali lashed a second suit under the seat—ready to encase the man Dane must bring back with him. Before he closed the helmet, Rip had one last order to give, along with an unexpected piece of equipment. And, when Dane saw that, he knew just how desperate Shannon considered their situation to be. For only on life or death terms would the Astrogator-apprentice have used Jellico’s private key, opened the forbidden arms cabinet, and withdrawn that blaster.

“If you need it—use this—” Rip’s face was very sober.

Ali arose from fastening the extra suit in place. “It’s ready—”

He came back into the corridor and Dane clanked out in his place, settling himself behind the controls. When they saw him there, the inner hatch closed and he was alone in the bay.

With tantalizing slowness the outer wall of the spacer slid back. His hands blundering with the metallic claws of the gloves, Dane buckled two safety belts about him. Then the skeleton flitter moved to the left—out into the glare of the early day, a light too bright, even through the shielded viewplates of his helmet.

For some dangerous moments the machine creaked out and down on the landing cranes, the warning counter on its control panel going into a mad whirl of color as it tried to record the radiation. There came a jar as it touched the scorched earth at the foot of the Queen’s fins.

Dane pressed the release and watched the lines whip up and the hatch above snap shut. Then he opened the controls. He used too much energy and shot into the air, tearing a wide gap through what was luckily a thin screen of the matted foliage, before he gained complete mastery.

Then he was able to level out and bore westward, the rising sun at his back, the sea of deadly green beneath him, and somewhere far ahead the faint promise of clean, radiation free land holding the help they needed.

Mile after mile of the green jungle swept under the flitter, and the flash of the counter’s light continued to record a land unfit for mankind. Even with the equipment used on distant worlds to protect what spacemen had come to recognize was a reasonably tough human frame, no ground force could hope to explore that wilderness in person. And flying above it, as well insulated as he was, Dane knew that he could be dangerously exposed. If the contaminated territory extended more than a thousand miles, his danger was no longer problematical—it was an established fact.

He had only the vague directions from the scrap of map Rip had uncovered. To the west—he had no idea how far away—there stretched a length of coastline, far enough from the radiation blasted area to allow small settlements. For generations the population of Terra, decimated by the atomic wars, and then drained by first system and then Galactic exploration and colonization, had been decreasing. But within the past hundred years it was again on the upswing. Men retiring from space were returning to their native planet to live out their remaining years. The descendants of far-flung colonists, coming home on visits, found the sparsely populated mother world appealed to some basic instinct so that they remained. And now the settlements of mankind were on the march, spreading out from the well established sections which had not been blighted by ancient wars.

It was mid-afternoon when Dane noted that the green carpet beneath the flitter was displaying holes—that small breaks in the vegetation became sizable stretches of rocky waste. He kept one eye on the counter and what, when he left the spacer, had been an almost steady beam of warning light was now a well defined succession of blinks. The land below was cooling off—perhaps he had passed the worst of the journey. But in that passing how much had he and the flitter become contaminated? Ali had devised a method of protection for the empty suit the Medic would wear—had that held? There were an alarming number of dark ifs in the immediate future.

The mutant growths were now only thin patches of stunted and yellowish green. Had man penetrated only this far into the Burn, the knowledge of what lay beyond would be totally false. This effect of dreary waste might well discourage exploration.

Now the blink of the counter was deliberate, with whole seconds of pause between the flashes. Cooling off—? It was getting cold fast! He wished that he had a com-unit. Because of the interference in the Burn he had left it behind—but with one he might be able now to locate some settlement. All that remained was to find the seashore and, with it as a guide, flit south towards the center of modern civilization.

He laid no plans of action—this whole exploit must depend upon improvisation. And, as a Free Trader, spur-of-the-moment action was a necessary way of life. On the frontier Rim of the Galaxy, where the independent spacers traced the star trails, fast thinking and the ability to change plans on an instant were as important as skill in aiming a blaster. And it was very often proven that the tongue—and the brain behind it—were more deadly than a flamer.

The sun was in Dane’s face now and he caught sight of patches of uncontaminated earth with honest vegetation—in place of the “hot” jungle now miles behind. That night he camped out on the edge of rough pasturage where the counter no longer flashed its warning and he was able to shed the suit and sleep under the stars with the fresh air of early summer against his cheek and the smell of honest growing things replacing the dry scent of the spacer and the languorous perfumes of Sargol.

He lay on his back, flat against the earth of which he was truly a part, staring up into the dark, inverted bowl of the heavens. It was so hard to connect those distant points of icy light making the well remembered patterns overhead with the suns whose rays had added to the brown stain on his skin. Sargol’s sun—the one which gave such limited light to dead Limbo—the sun under which Naxos, his first Galactic port, grew its food. He could not pick them out—was not even sure that any could be sighted from Terra. Strange suns, red, orange, blue green, white—yet here all looked alike—points of glitter.

Tomorrow at dawn he must go on. He turned his head away from the sky and grass, green Terran grass, was soft beneath his cheek. Yet unless he was successful tomorrow or the next day—he might never have the right to feel that grass again. Resolutely Dane willed that thought out of his mind, tried to fix upon something more lulling which would bring with it the sleep he must have before he went on. And in the end he did sleep, deeply, dreamlessly, as if the touch of Terra’s soil was in itself the sedative his tautly strung nerves needed.

It was before sunrise that he awoke, stiff, and chilled. The dryness of pre-dawn gave partial light and somewhere a bird was twittering. There had been birds—or things whose far off ancestors had been birds—in the “hot” forest. Did they also sing to greet the dawn?

Dane went over the flitter with his small counter and was relieved to find that they had done a good job of shielding under Ali’s supervision. Once the suit he had worn was stored, he could sit at the controls without danger and in comfort. And it was good to be free of that metal prison.

This time he took to the air with ease, the salt taste of food concentrate on his tongue as he sucked a cube. And his confidence arose with the flitter. This was the day, somehow he knew it. He was going to find what he sought.

It was less than two hours after sunrise that he did so. A village which was a cluster of perhaps fifty or so house units strung along into the land. He skimmed across it and brought the flitter down in a rock cliff walled sand pocket with surf booming some yards away, where he would be reasonably sure of safe hiding.

All right, he had found a village. Now what? A Medic—A stranger appearing on the lane which served the town, a stranger in a distinctive uniform of Trade, would only incite conjecture and betrayal. He had to plan now—

Dane unsealed his tunic. He should, by rights, shed his space boots too. But perhaps he could use those to color his story. He thrust the blaster into hiding at his waist. A rip or two in his undertunic, a shallow cut from his bush knife allowed to bleed messily. He could not see himself to judge the general effect, but had to hope it was the right one.

His chance to test his acting powers came sooner than he had anticipated. Luckily he had climbed out of the hidden cove before he was spotted by the boy who came whistling along the path, a fishing pole over his shoulder, a basket swinging from his hand. Dane assumed an expression which he thought would suggest fatigue, pain, and bewilderment and lurched forward as if, in sighting the oncoming boy, he had also sighted hope.

“Help—!” Perhaps it was excitement which gave his utterance that convincing croak.

Rod and basket fell to the ground as the boy, after one astounded stare, ran forward.

“What’s the matter!” His eyes were on those space boots and he added a “sir” which had the ring of hero worship.

“Escape boat—” Dane waved toward the sea’s general direction. “Medic—must get to Medic—”

“Yes, sir,” the boy’s basic Terran sounded good. “Can you walk if I help you?”

Dane managed a weak nod, but contrived that he did not lean too heavily on his avidly helpful guide.

“The Medic’s my father, sir. We’re right down this slope—third house. And father hasn’t left—he’s supposed to go on a northern inspection tour today—”

Dane felt a stab of distaste for the role being forced upon him. When he had visualized the Medic he must abduct to serve the Queen in her need, he had not expected to have to kidnap a family man. Only the knowledge that he did have the extra suit, and that he had made the outward trip without dangerous exposure, bolstered up his determination to see the plan through.

When they came out at the end of the single long lane which tied the houses of the village together, Dane was puzzled to see the place so deserted. But, since it was not within his role of dazed sufferer to ask questions, he did not do so. It was his young guide who volunteered the information he wanted.

“Most everyone is out with the fleet. There’s a run of red-backs—”

Dane understood. Within recent times the “red-backs” of the north had become a desirable luxury item for Terran tables. If a school of them were to be found in the vicinity no wonder this village was now deserted as its fleet went out to garner in the elusive but highly succulent fish.

“In here, sir—” Dane found himself being led to a house on the right. “Are you in Trade—?”

He suppressed a start, shedding his uniform tunic had not done much in the way of disguise. It would be nice, he thought a little bitterly, if he could flash an I-S badge now to completely confuse the issue. But he answered with the partial truth and did not enlarge.

“Yes—”

The boy was flushed with excitement. “I’m trying for Trade Service Medic,” he confided. “Passed the Directive exam last month. But I still have to go up for Prelim psycho—”

Dane had a flash of memory. Not too many months before not the Prelim psycho, but the big machine at the Assignment Center had decided his own future arbitrarily, fitting him into the crew of the Solar Queen as the ship where his abilities, knowledge and potentialities could best work to the good of the Service. At the time he had resented, had even been slightly ashamed of being relegated to a Free Trading spacer while Artur Sands and other classmates from the Pool had walked off with Company assignments. Now he knew that he would not trade the smallest and most rusty bolt from the solar Queen for the newest scout ship in I-S or Combine registry. And this boy from the frontier village might be himself as he was five years earlier. Though he had never known a real home or family, scrapping into the Pool from one of the children’s Depots.

“Good luck!” He meant that and the boy’s flush deepened.

“Thank you, sir. Around here—Father’s treatment room has this other door—”

Dane allowed himself to be helped into the treatment room and sat down in a chair while the boy hurried off to locate the Medic. The Trader’s hand went to the butt of his concealed blaster. It was a job he had to do—one he had volunteered for—and there was no backing out. But his mouth had a wry twist as he drew out the blaster and made ready to point it at the inner door. Or—his mind leaped to another idea—could he get the Medic safely out of the village? A story about another man badly injured—perhaps pinned in the wreckage of an escape boat—He could try it. He thrust the blaster back inside his torn undertunic, hoping the bulge would pass unnoticed.

“My son says—”

Dane looked up. The man who came through the inner door was in early middle age, thin, wiry, with a hard, fined-down look about him. He could almost be Tau’s elder brother. He crossed the room with a brisk stride and came to stand over Dane, his hand reaching to pull aside the bloody cloth covering the Trader’s breast. But Dane fended off that examination.

“My partner,” he said. “Back there—pinned in—” he jerked his hand southward. “Needs help—”

The Medic frowned. “Most of the men are out with the fleet. Jorge,” he spoke to the boy who had followed him, “go and get Lex and Hartog. Here,” he tried to push Dane back into the chair as the Trader got up, “let me look at that cut—”

Dane shook his head. “No time now, sir. My partner’s hurt bad. Can you come?”

“Certainly.” The Medic reached for the emergency kit on the shelf behind him. “You able to make it?”

“Yes,” Dane was exultant. It was going to work! He could toll the Medic away from the village. Once out among the rocks on the shoreline he could pull the blaster and herd the man to the flitter. His luck was going to hold after all!


Chapter XV

MEDIC HOVAN REPORTS

Fortunately the path out of the straggling town was a twisted one and in a very short space they were hidden from view. Dane paused as if the pace was too much for an injured man. The Medic put out a steadying hand, only to drop it quickly when he saw the weapon which had appeared in Dane’s grip.

“What—?” His mouth snapped shut, his jaw tightened.

“You will march ahead of me,” Dane’s low voice was steady. “Beyond that rock spur to the left you’ll find a place where it is possible to climb down to sea level. Do it!”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask why?”

“Not now. We haven’t much time. Get moving!”

The Medic mastered his surprise and without further protest obeyed orders. It was only when they were standing by the flitter and he saw the suits that his eyes widened and he said:

“The Big Burn!”

“Yes, and I’m desperate—”

“You must be—or mad—” The Medic stared at Dane for a long moment and then shook his head. “What is it? A plague ship?”

Dane bit his lip. The other was too astute. But he did not ask why or how he had been able to guess so shrewdly. Instead he gestured to the suit Ali had lashed beneath the seat in the flitter. “Get into that and be quick about it!”

The Medic rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I think that you might just be desperate enough to use that thing you’re brandishing about so melodramatically if I don’t,” he remarked in a calmly conversational tone.

“I won’t kill. But a blaster burn—”

“Can be pretty painful. Yes, I know that, young man. And,” suddenly he shrugged, put down his kit and started donning the suit. “I wouldn’t put it past you to knock me out and load me aboard if I did say no. All right—”

Suited, he took his place on the seat as Dane directed, and then the Trader followed the additional precaution of lashing the Medic’s metal encased arms to his body before he climbed into his own protective covering. Now they could only communicate by sight through the vision plates of their helmets.

Dane triggered the controls and they arose out of the sand and rock hollow just as a party of two men and a boy came hurrying along the top of the cliff—Jorge and the rescuers arriving too late. The flitter spiraled up into the sunlight and Dane wondered how long it would be before this outrage was reported to the nearest Plant Police base. But would any Police cruiser have the hardihood to follow him into the Big Burn? He hoped that the radiation would hold them back.

There was no navigation to be done. The flitter’s “memory” should deposit them at the Queen. Dane wondered at what his silent companion was now thinking. The Medic had accepted his kidnapping with such docility that the very ease of their departure began to bother Dane. Was the other expecting a trailer? Had exploration into the Big Burn from the seaside villages been more extensive than reported officially?

He stepped up the power of the flitter to the top notch and saw with some relief that the ground beneath them was now the rocky waste bordering the devastated area. The metal encased figure that shared his seat had not moved, but now the bubble head turned as if the Medic were intent upon the ground flowing beneath them.

The flicker of the counter began and Dane realized that nightfall would find them still air borne. But so far he had not been aware of any pursuit. Again he wished he had the use of a com—only here the radiation would blanket sound with that continuous roar.

Patches of the radiation vegetation showed now and something in the lines of the Medic’s tense figure suggested that these were new to him. Afternoon waned as the patches united, spread into the beginning of the jungle as the counter was once more an almost steady light. When evening closed in they were not caught in darkness—for below trees, looping vines, brush, had a pale, evil glow of their own, proclaiming their toxicity with bluish halos. Sometimes pockets of these made a core of light which pulsed, sending warning fingers at the flitter which sped across it.

The hour was close on midnight before Dane sighted the other light, the pink-red of which winked through the ghastly blue-white with a natural and comforting promise, even though it had been meant for an entirely different purpose. The Queen had earthed with her distress lights on and no one had remembered to snap them off. Now they acted as a beacon to draw the flitter to its berth.

Dane brought the stripped flyer down on the fused ground as close to the spot from which he had taken off as he could remember. Now—if those on the spacer would only move fast enough—!

But he need not have worried, his arrival had been anticipated. Above, the rounded side of the spacer bulged as the hatch opened. Lines swung down to fasten their magnetic clamps on the flitter. Then once more they were air borne, swinging up to be warped into the side of the ship. As the outer port of the flitter berth closed Dane reached over and pulled loose the lashing which immobilized his companion. The Medic stood up, a little awkwardly as might any man who wore space armor the first time.

The inner hatch now opened and Dane waved his captive into the small section which must serve them as a decontamination space. Free at last of the suits, they went through one more improvised hatch to the main corridor of the Queen where Rip and Ali stood waiting, their weary faces lighting as they saw the Medic.

It was the latter who spoke first. “This is a plague ship—”

Rip shook his head. “It is not, sir. And you’re the one who is going to help us prove that.”

The man leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless. “You take a rather tough way of trying to get help.”

“It was the only way left us. I’ll be frank,” Rip continued, “we’re Patrol Posted.”

The Medic’s shrewd eyes went from one drawn young face to the next. “You don’t look like desperate criminals,” was his comment. “This your full crew?”

“All the rest are your concern. That is—if you will take the job—” Rip’s shoulders slumped a little.

“You haven’t left me much choice, have you? If there is illness on board, I’m under the Oath—whether you are Patrol Posted or not. What’s the trouble?”

They got him down to Tau’s laboratory and told him their story. From a slight incredulity his expression changed to an alert interest and he demanded to see, first the patients and then the pests now immured in a deep freeze. Sometime in the middle of this, Dane, overcome by fatigue which was partly relief from tension, sought his cabin and the bunk from which he wearily disposed Sinbad, only to have the purring cat crawl back once more when he had lain down.

And when he awoke, renewed in body and spirit, it was in a new Queen, a ship in which hope and confidence now ruled.

“Hovan’s already got it!” Rip told him exultantly. “It’s that poison from the little devils’ claws right enough! A narcotic—produces some of the affects of deep sleep. In fact—it may have a medical use. He’s excited about it—”

“All right,” Dane waved aside information which under other circumstances, promising as it did a chance for future trade, would have engrossed him, to ask a question which at the moment seemed far more to the point. “Can he get our men back on their feet?”

A little of Rip’s exuberance faded. “Not right away. He’s given them all shots. But he thinks they’ll have to sleep it off.”

“And we have no idea how long that is going to take,” Ali contributed.

Time—for the first time in days Dane was struck by that—time! Because of his training a fact he had forgotten in the past weeks of worry now came to mind—their contract with the storm priests. Even if they were able to clear themselves of the plague charge, even if the rest of the crew were speedily restored to health, he was sure that they could not hope to return to Sargol with the promised cargo, the pay for which was already on board the Queen. They would have broken their pledge and there could be no hope of holding to their trading rights on that world—if they were not blacklisted for breaking contract into the bargain. I-S would be able to move in and clean up and probably they could never prove that the Company was behind their misfortunes—though the men of the Queen would always be convinced that that fact was the truth.

“We’re going to break contract—” he said aloud and that shook the other two, knocked some of their assurance out of them.

“How about that?” Rip asked Ali.

The acting-engineer nodded. “We have fuel enough to lift from here and maybe set down at Terraport—if we take it careful and cut vectors. We can’t lift from there without refueling—and of course the Patrol are going to sit on their hands while we do that—with us Posted! No, put out of your heads any plan for getting back to Sargol within the time limit. Thorson’s right—that way we’re flamed out!”

Rip slumped in his seat. “So the Eysies can take over after all?”

“As I see it,” Dane cut in, “let’s just take one thing at a time. We may have to argue a broken contract out before the Board. But first we have to get off the Posted hook with the Patrol. Have you any idea about how we are going to handle that?”

“Hovan’s on our side. In fact if we let him have the bugs to play with he’ll back us all the way. He can swear us a clean bill of health before the Medic Control Center.”

“How much will that count after we’ve broken all their regs?” Ali wanted to know. “If we surrender now we’re not going to have much chance, no matter what Hovan does or does not swear to. Hovan’s a frontier Medic—I won’t say that he’s not a member in good standing of their association—but he doesn’t have top star rating. And with the Eysies and the Patrol on our necks, we’ll need more than one medic’s word—”

But Rip looked from the pessimistic Kamil to Dane. Now he asked a question which was more than half statement.

“You’ve thought of something?”

“I’ve remembered something,” the Cargo-apprentice corrected. “Recall the trick Van pulled on Limbo when the Patrol was trying to ease us out of our rights there after they took over the outlaw hold?”

Ali was impatient. “He threatened to talk to the Video people and broadcast—tell everyone about the ships wrecked by the Forerunner installation and left lying about full of treasure. But what has that to do with us now—? We bargained away our rights on Limbo for the rest of Cam’s monopoly on Sargol—not that it’s done us much good—”

“The Video,” Dane fastened on the important point, “Van threatened publicity which would embarrass the Patrol and he was legally within his rights. We’re outside the law now—but publicity might help again. How many earth-side people know of the unwritten law about open war on plague ships? How many who aren’t spacemen know that we could be legally pushed into the sun and fried without any chance to prove we’re innocent of carrying a new disease? If we could talk loud and clear to the people at large maybe we’d have a chance for a real hearing—”

“Right from the Terraport broadcast station, I suppose?” Ali taunted.

“Why not?”

There was silence in the cabin as the other two chewed upon that and he broke it again:

“We set down here when it had never been done before.”

With one brown forefinger Rip traced some pattern known only to himself on the top of the table. Ali stared at the opposite wall as if it were a bank of machinery he must master.

“It just might be whirly enough to work—” Kamil commented softly. “Or maybe we’ve been spaced too long and the Whisperers have been chattering into our ears. What about it, Rip, could you set us down close enough to Center Block there?”

“We can try anything once. But we might crash the old girl bringing her in. There’s that apron between the Companies’ Launching cradles and the Center—. It’s clear there and we could give an E signal coming down which would make them stay rid of it. But I won’t try it except as a last resort.”

Dane noticed that after that discouraging statement Rip made straight for Jellico’s record tapes and routed out the one which dealt with Terraport and the landing instructions for that metropolis of the star ships. To land unbidden there would certainly bring them publicity—and to get the Video broadcast and tell their story would grant them not only world wide, but system wide hearing. News from Terraport was broadcast on every channel every hour of the day and night and not a single viewer could miss their appeal.

But first there was Hovan to be consulted. Would he be willing to back them with his professional knowledge and assurance? Or would their high-handed method of recruiting his services operate against them now? They decided to let Rip ask such questions of the Medic.

“So you’re going to set us down in the center of the big jump-off?” was his first comment, as the acting-Captain of the Queen stated their case. “Then you want me to fire my rockets to certify you are harmless. You don’t ask for very much, do you, son?”

Rip spread his hands. “I can understand how it looks to you, sir. We grabbed you and brought you here by force. We can’t make you testify for us if you decide not to—”

“Can’t you?” The Medic cocked an eyebrow at him. “What about this bully boy of yours with his little blaster? He could herd me right up to the telecast, couldn’t he? There’s a lot of persuasion in one of those nasty little arms. On the other hand, I’ve a son who’s set on taking out on one of these tin pots to go star hunting. If I handed you over to the Patrol he might make some remarks to me in private. You may be Posted, but you don’t look like very hardened criminals to me. It seems that you’ve been handed a bad situation and handled it as best you know. And I’m willing to ride along the rest of the way on your tail blast. Let me see how many pieces you land us in at Terraport and I’ll give you my final answer. If luck holds we may have a couple more of your crew present by that time, also—”

They had had no indication that the Queen had been located, that any posse hunting the kidnapped Medic had followed them into the Big Burn. And they could only hope that they would continue to remain unsighted as they upped-ship once more and cruised into a regular traffic lane for earthing at the port. It would be a chancy thing and Ali and Rip spent hours checking the mechanics of that flight, while Dane and the recovering Weeks worked with Hovan in an effort to restore the sleeping crew.

After three visits to the hold and the discovery that the Hoobat had uncovered no more of the pests, Dane caged the angry blue horror and returned it to its usual stand in Jellico’s cabin, certain that the ship was clean for Sinbad now confidently prowled the corridors and went into every cabin of storage space Dane opened for him.

And on the morning of the day they had planned for take-off, Hovan at last had a definite response to his treatment. Craig Tau roused, stared dazedly around, and asked a vague question. The fact he immediately relapsed once more into semi-coma did not discourage the other Medic. Progress had been made and he was now sure that he knew the proper treatment.

They strapped down at zero hour and blasted out of the weird green wilderness they had not dared to explore, lifting into the arch of the sky, depending upon Rip’s knowledge to put them safely down again.

Dane once more rode out the take-off at the com-unit, waiting for the blast of radiation born static to fade so that he could catch any broadcast.

“—turned back last night. The high level of radiation makes it almost certain that the outlaws could not have headed into the dangerous central portion. Search is now spreading north. Authorities are inclined to believe that this last outrage may be a clew to the vanished ‘Solar Queen,’ a plague ship, warned off and Patrol Posted after her crew plundered an E-Stat belonging to the Inter-Solar Corporation. Anyone having any information concerning this ship—or any strange spacer—report at once to the nearest Terrapolice or Patrol station. Do not take chances—report any contact at once to the nearest Terrapolice or Patrol station!”

“That’s putting it strongly,” Dane commented as he relayed the message. “Good as giving orders for us to be flamed down at sight—”

“Well, if we set down in the right spot,” Rip replied, “they can’t flame us out without blasting the larger part of Terraport field with us. And I don’t think they are going to do that in a hurry.”

Dane hoped Shannon was correct in that belief. It would be more chancy than landing at the E-Stat or in the Big Burn—to gauge it just right and put them down on the Terraport apron where they could not be flamed out without destroying too much, where their very position would give them a bargaining point, was going to be a top star job. If Rip could only pull it off!

He could not evaluate the niceties of that flight, he did not understand all Rip was doing. But he did know enough to remain quietly in his place, ask no questions, and await results with a dry mouth and a wildly beating heart. There came a moment when Rip glanced up at him, one hand poised over the control board. The pilot’s voice came tersely, thin and queer:

“Pray it out, Dane—here we go!”

Dane heard the shrill of a riding beam, so tearing he had to move his earphones. They must be almost on top of the control tower to get it like that! Rip was planning on a set down where the Queen would block things neatly. He brought his own fingers down on the E-E-Red button to give the last and most powerful warning. That, to be used only when a ship landing was out of control, should clear the ground below. They could only pray it would vacate the port they were still far from seeing.

“Make it a fin-point, Rip,” he couldn’t repress that one bit of advice. And was glad he had given it when he saw a ghost grin tug for a moment at Rip’s full lips.

“Good enough for a check-ride?”

They were riding her flaming jets down as they would on a strange world. Below the port must be wild. Dane counted off the seconds. Two—three—four—five—just a few more and they would be too low to intercept—without endangering innocent coasters and groundhuggers. When the last minute during which they were still vulnerable passed, he gave a sigh of relief. That was one more point on their side. In the earphones was a crackle of frantic questions, a gabble of orders screaming at him. Let them rave, they’d know soon enough what it was all about.


Chapter XVI

THE BATTLE OF THE VIDEO

Oddly enough, in spite of the tension which must have boiled within him, Rip brought them in with a perfect four fin-point landing—one which, under the circumstances, must win him the respect of master star-star pilots from the Rim. Though Dane doubted whether if they lost, that skill would bring Shannon anything but a long term in the moon mines. The actual jar of their landing contact was mostly absorbed by the webbing of their shock seats and they were on their feet, ready to move almost at once.

The next operation had been planned. Dane gave a glance at the screen. Ringed now about the Queen were the buildings of Terraport. Yes, any attempt to attack the ship would endanger too much of the permanent structure of the field itself. Rip had brought them down—not on the rocket scarred outer landing space—but on the concrete apron between the Assignment Center and the control tower—a smooth strip usually sacred to the parking of officials’ ground scooters. He speculated as to whether any of the latter had been converted to molten metal by the exhausts of the Queen’s descent.

Like the team they had come to be the four active members of the crew went into action. Ali and Weeks were waiting by an inner hatch, Medic Hovan with them. The Engineer-apprentice was bulky in a space suit, and two more of the unwieldy body coverings waited beside him for Rip and Dane. With fingers which were inclined to act like thumbs they were sealed into what would provide some protection against any blaster or sleep ray. Then with Hovan, conspicuously wearing no such armor, they climbed into one of the ship’s crawlers.

Weeks activated the outer hatch and the crane lines plucked the small vehicle out of the Queen, swinging it dizzily down to the blast scored apron.

“Make for the tower—” Rip’s voice was thin in the helmet coms.

Dane at the controls of the crawler pulled on as Ali cast off the lines which anchored them to the spacer.

Through the bubble helmet he could see the frenzied activity in the aroused port. An ant hill into which some idle investigator had thrust a stick and given it a turn or two was nothing compared with Terraport after the unorthodox arrival of the Solar Queen.

“Patrol mobile coming in on southeast vector,” Ali announced calmly. “Looks like she mounts a portable flamer on her nose—”

“So.” Dane changed direction, putting behind him a customs check point, aware as he ground by that stand, of a line of faces at its vision ports. Evasive action—and he’d have to get the top speed from the clumsy crawler.

“Police ‘copter over us—” that was Rip reporting.

Well, they couldn’t very well avoid that. But at the same time Dane was reasonably sure that its attack would not be an overt one—not with the unarmed, unprotected Hovan prominently displayed in their midst.

But there he was too sanguine. A muffled exclamation from Rip made him glance at the Medic beside him. Just in time to see Hovan slump limply forward, about to tumble from the crawler when Shannon caught him from behind. Dane was too familiar with the results of sleep rays to have any doubts as to what had happened.

The P-copter had sprayed them with its most harmless weapon. Only the suits, insulated to the best of their makers’ ability against most of the dangers of space, real and anticipated, had kept the three Traders from being overcome as well. Dane suspected that his own responses were a trifle sluggish, that while he had not succumbed to that attack, he had been slowed. But with Rip holding the unconscious Medic in his seat, Thorson continued to head the crawler for the tower and its promise of a system wide hearing for their appeal.

“There’s a P-mobile coming in ahead—”

Dane was irritated by that warning from Rip. He had already sighted that black and silver ground car himself. And he was only too keenly conscious of the nasty threat of the snub nosed weapon mounted on its hood, now pointed straight at the oncoming, too deliberate Traders’ crawler. Then he saw what he believed would be their only chance—to play once more the same type of trick as Rip had used to earth them safely.

“Get Hovan under cover,” he ordered. “I’m going to crash the tower door!”

Hasty movements answered that as the Medic’s limp body was thrust under the cover offered by the upper framework of the crawler. Luckily the machine had been built for heavy duty on rugged worlds where roadways were unknown. Dane was sure he could build up the power and speed necessary to take them into the lower floor of the tower—no matter if its door was now barred against them.

Whether his audacity daunted the P-mobile, or whether they held off from an all out attack because of Hovan, Dane could not guess. But he was glad for a few minutes of grace as he raced the protesting engine of the heavy machine to its last and greatest effort. The treads of the crawler bit on the steps leading up to the impressive entrance of the tower. There was a second or two before traction caught and then the driver’s heart snapped back into place as the machine tilted its nose up and headed straight for the portal.

They struck the closed doors with a shock which almost hurled them from their seats. But that engraved bronze expanse had not been cast to withstand a head-on blow from a heavy duty off-world vehicle and the leaves tore apart letting them into the wide hall beyond.

“Take Hovan and make for the riser!” For the second time it was Dane who gave the orders. “I have a blocking job to do here.” He expected every second to feel the bit of a police blaster somewhere along his shrinking body—could even a space suit protect him now?

At the far end of the corridor were the attendants and visitors, trapped in the building, who had fled in an attempt to find safety at the crashing entrance of the crawler. These flung themselves flat at the steady advance of the two space-suited Traders who supported the unconscious Medic between them, using the low-powered anti-grav units on their belts to take most of his weight so each had one hand free to hold a sleep rod. And they did not hesitate to use those weapons—spraying the rightful inhabitants of the tower until all lay unmoving.

Having seen that Ali and Rip appeared to have the situation in hand, Dane turned to his own self-appointed job. He jammed the machine on reverse, maneuvering it with an ease learned by practice on the rough terrain of Limbo, until the gate doors were pushed shut again. Then he swung the machine around so that its bulk would afford an effective bar to keep the door locked for some very precious moments to come. Short of using a flamer full power to cut their way in, no one was going to force an entrance now.

He climbed out of the machine, to discover, when he turned, that the trio from the Queen had disappeared—leaving all possible opposition asleep on the floor. Dane clanked on to join them, carrying in plated fingers their most important weapon to awake public opinion—an improvised cage in which was housed one of the pests from the cargo hold—the proof of their plague-free state which they intended Hovan to present, via the telecast, to the whole system.

Dane reached the shaft of the riser—to find the platform gone. Would either Rip or Ali have presence of mind enough to send it down to him on automatic?

“Rip—return the riser,” he spoke urgently into the throat mike of his helmet com.

“Keep your rockets straight,” Ali’s cool voice was in his earphones, “It’s on its way down. Did you remember to bring Exhibit A?”

Dane did not answer. For he was very much occupied with another problem. On the bronze doors he had been at such pains to seal shut there had come into being a round circle of dull red which was speedily changing into a coruscating incandescence. They had brought a flamer to bear! It would be a very short time now before the Police could come through. That riser—

Afraid of overbalancing in the bulky suit Dane did not lean forward to stare up into the shaft. But, as his uncertainty reached a fever pitch, the platform descended and he took two steps forward into temporary safety, still clutching the cage. At the first try the thick fingers of his gloved hand slipped from the lever and he hit it again, harder than he intended, so that he found himself being wafted upward with a speed which did not agree with a stomach, even one long accustomed to space flight. And he almost lost his balance when it came to a stop many floors above.

But he had not lost his wits. Before he stepped from the platform he set the dial on a point which would lift the riser to the top of the shaft and hold it there. That might trap the Traders on the broadcasting floor, but it would also insure them time before the forces of the law could reach them.

Dane located the rest of his party in the circular core chamber of the broadcasting section. He recognized a backdrop he had seen thousands of times behind the announcer who introduced the news-casts. In one corner Rip, his suit off, was working over the still relaxed form of the Medic. While Ali, a grim set to his mouth, was standing with a man who wore the insignia of a Com-tech.

“All set?” Rip looked up from his futile ministrations.

Dane put down the cage and began the business of unhooking his own protective covering. “They were burning through the outer doors of the entrance hall when I took off.”

“You’re not going to get away with this—” that was the Com-tech.

Ali smiled wearily, a stretch of lips in which there was little or no mirth. “Listen, my friend. Since I started to ride rockets I’ve been told I wasn’t going to get away with this or that. Why not be more original? Use what is between those outsize ears of yours. We fought our way in here—we landed at Terraport against orders—we’re Patrol Posted. Do you think that one man, one lone man, is going to keep us now from doing what we came to do? And don’t look around for any reinforcements. We sprayed both those rooms. You can run the emergency hook-up singlehanded and you’re going to. We’re Free Traders—Ha,” the man had lost some of his assurance as he stared from one drawn young face to another, “I see you begin to realize what that means. Out on the Rim we play rough, and we play for keeps. I know half a hundred ways to set you screaming in three minutes and at least ten of them will not even leave a mark on your skin! Now do we get Service—or don’t we?”

“You’ll go to the Chamber for this—!” snarled the tech.

“All right. But first we broadcast. Then maybe someday a ship that’s run into bad luck’ll have a straighter deal than we’ve had. You get on your post. And we’ll have the play back on—remember that. If you don’t give us a clear channel we’ll know it. How about it, Rip—how’s Hovan?”

Rip’s face was a mask of worry. “He must have had a full dose. I can’t bring him around.”

Was this the end of their bold bid? Let each or all of them go before the screen to plead their case, let them show the caged pest. But without the professional testimony of the Medic, the weight of an expert opinion on their side, they were licked. Well, sometimes luck did not ride a man’s fins all the way in.

But some stubborn core within Dane refused to let him believe that they had lost. He went over to the Medic huddled in a chair. To all appearances Hovan was deeply asleep, sunk in the semi-coma the sleep ray produced. And the frustrating thing was that the man himself could have supplied the counter to his condition, given them the instructions how to bring him around. How many hours away was a natural awaking? Long before that their hold on the station would be broken—they would be in the custody of either Police or Patrol.

“He’s sunk—” Dane voiced the belief which put an end to their hopes. But Ali did not seem concerned.

Kamil was standing with their captive, an odd expression on his handsome face as if he were striving to recall some dim memory. When he spoke it was to the Com-tech. “You have an HD OS here?”

The other registered surprise. “I think so—”

Ali made an abrupt gesture. “Make sure,” he ordered, following the man into another room. Dane looked to Rip for enlightenment.

“What in the Great Nebula is an HD OS?”

“I’m no engineer. It may be some gadget to get us out of here—”

“Such as a pair of wings?” Dane was inclined to be sarcastic. The memory of that incandescent circle on the door some twenty floors below stayed with him. Tempers of Police and Patrol were not going to be improved by fighting their way around or over the obstacles the Traders had arranged to delay them. If they caught up to the outlaws before the latter had their chance for an impartial hearing, the result was not going to be a happy one as far as the Queen’s men were concerned.

Ali appeared in the doorway. “Bring Hovan in here.” Together Rip and Dane carried the Medic into a smaller chamber where they found Ali and the tech busy lashing a small, lightweight tube chair to a machine which, to their untutored eyes, had the semblance of a collection of bars. Obeying instructions they seated Hovan in that chair, fastening him in, while the Medic continued to slumber peacefully. Uncomprehendingly Rip and Dane stepped back while, under Ali’s watchful eye, the Com-tech made adjustments and finally snapped some hidden switch.

Dane discovered that he dared not watch too closely what followed. Inured as he thought he was to the tricks of Hyperspace, to acceleration and anti-gravity, the oscillation of that swinging seat, the weird swaying of the half-recumbent figure, did things to his sight and to his sense of balance which seemed perilous in the extreme. But when the groan broke through the hum of Ali’s mysterious machine, all of them knew that the Engineer-apprentice had found the answer to their problem, that Hovan was waking.

The Medic was bleary-eyed and inclined to stagger when they freed him. And for several minutes he seemed unable to grasp either his surroundings or the train of events which had brought him there.

Long since the Police must have broken into the entrance corridor below. Perhaps they had by now secured a riser which would bring them up. Ali had forced the Com-tech to throw the emergency control which was designed to seal off from the outer world the entire unit in which they now were. But whether that protective device would continue to hold now, none of the three were certain. Time was running out fast.

Supporting the wobbling Hovan, they went back into the panel room and under Ali’s supervision the Com-tech took his place at the control board. Dane put the cage with the pest well to the fore on the table of the announcer and waited for Rip to take his place there with the trembling Medic. When Shannon did not move Dane glanced up in surprise—this was no time to hesitate. But he discovered that the attention of both his shipmates was now centered on him. Rip pointed to the seat.

“You’re the talk merchant, aren’t you?” the acting commander of the Queen asked crisply. “Now’s the time to shout the Lingo—”

They couldn’t mean—! But it was very evident that they did. Of course, a Cargo-master was supposed to be the spokesman of a ship. But that was in matters of trade. And how could he stand there and argue the case for the Queen? He was the newest joined, the greenest member of her crew. Already his mouth was dry and his nerves tense. But Dane didn’t know that none of that was revealed by his face or manner. The usual impassiveness which had masked his inner conflicts since his first days at the Pool served him now. And the others never noted the hesitation with which he approached the announcer’s place.

Dane had scarcely seated himself, one hand resting on the cage of the pest, before Ali brought down two fingers in the sharp sweep which signaled the Com-tech to duty. Far above them there was a whisper of sound which signified the opening of the play-back. They would be able to check on whether the broadcast was going out or not. Although Dane could see nothing of the system wide audience which he currently faced, he realized that the room and those in it were now visible on every tuned-in video set. Instead of the factual cast, the listeners were about to be treated to a melodrama which was as wild as their favorite romances. It only needed the break-in of the Patrol to complete the illusion of action-fiction—crime variety.

A second finger moved in his direction and Dane leaned forward. He faced only the folds of a wall wide curtain, but he must keep in mind that in truth there was a sea of faces before him, the faces of those whom he and Hovan, working together, must convince if he were to save the Queen and her crew.

He found his voice and it was steady and even, he might have been outlining some stowage problem for Van Rycke’s approval.

“People of Terra—”

Martian, Venusian, Asteroid colonist—inwardly they were still all Terran and on that point he would rest. He was a Terran appealing to his own kind.

“People of Terra, we come before you to ask justice—” from somewhere the words came easily, flowing from his lips to center on a patch of light ahead. And that “justice” rang with a kind of reassurance.


Chapter XVII

IN CUSTODY

“To those of you who do not travel the star trails our case may seem puzzling—” the words were coming easily. Dane gathered confidence as he spoke, intent on making those others out there know what it meant to be outlawed.

“We are Patrol Posted, outlawed as a plague ship,” he confessed frankly. “But this is our true story—”

Swiftly, with a flow of language he had not known he could command, Dane swung into the story of Sargol, of the pest they had carried away from that world. And at the proper moment he thrust a gloved hand into the cage and brought out the wriggling thing which struck vainly with its poisoned talons, holding it above the dark table so that those unseen watchers could witness the dramatic change of color which made it such a menace. Dane continued the story of the Queen’s ill-fated voyage—of their forced descent upon the E-Stat.

“Ask the truth of Inter-Solar,” he demanded of the audience beyond those walls. “We were no pirates. They will discover in their records the vouchers we left.” Then Dane described the weird hunt when, led by the Hoobat, they had finally found and isolated the menace, and their landing in the heart of the Big Burn. He followed that with his own quest for medical aid, the kidnapping of Hovan. At that point he turned to the Medic.

“This is Medic Hovan. He has consented to appear in our behalf and to testify to the truth—that the Solar Queen has not been stricken by some unknown plague, but infested with a living organism we now have under control—” For a suspenseful second or two he wondered if Hovan was going to make it. The man looked shaken and sick, as if the drastic awaking they had subjected him to had left him too dazed to pull himself together.

But out of some hidden reservoir of strength the Medic summoned the energy he needed. And his testimony was all they had hoped it would be. Though now and then he strayed into technical terms. But, Dane thought, their use only enhanced the authority of his description of what he had discovered on board the spacer and what he had done to counteract the power of the poison. When he had done Dane added a few last words.

“We have broken the law,” he admitted forthrightly, “but we were fighting in self-defense. All we ask now is the privilege of an impartial investigation, a chance to defend ourselves—such as any of you take for granted on Terra—before the courts of this planet—” But he was not to finish without interruption.

From the play-back over their heads another voice blared, breaking across his last words:

“Surrender! This is the Patrol. Surrender or take the consequences!” And that faint sighing which signaled their open contact with the outer world was cut off. The Com-tech turned away from the control board, a sneering half smile on his face.

“They’ve reached the circuit and cut you off. You’re done!”

Dane stared into the cage where the now almost invisible thing sat humped together. He had done his best—they had all done their best. He felt nothing but a vast fatigue, an overwhelming weariness, not so much of body, but of nerve and spirit too.

Rip broke the silence with a question aimed at the tech. “Can you signal below?”

“Going to give up?” The fellow brightened. “Yes, there’s an inter-com I can cut in.”

Rip stood up. He unbuckled the belt about his waist and laid it on the table—disarming himself. Without words Ali and Dane followed his example. They had played their hand—to prolong the struggle would mean nothing. The acting Captain of the Queen gave a last order:

“Tell them we are coming down unarmed—to surrender.” He paused in front of Hovan. “You’d better stay here. If there’s any trouble—no reason for you to be caught in the middle.”

Hovan nodded as the three left the room. Dane, remembering the trick he had pulled with the riser, made a comment:

“We may be marooned here—”

Ali shrugged. “Then we can just wait and let them collect us.” He yawned, his dark eyes set in smudges. “I don’t care if they’ll just let us sleep the clock around afterwards. D’you really think,” he addressed Rip, “that we’ve done ourselves any good?”

Rip neither denied nor confirmed. “We took our only chance. Now it’s up to them—” He pointed to the wall and the teeming world which lay beyond it.

Ali grinned wryly. “I note you left the what-you-call-it with Hovan.”

“He wanted one to experiment with,” Dane replied. “I thought he’d earned it.”

“And now here comes what we’ve earned—” Rip cut in as the hum of the riser came to their ears.

“Should we take to cover?” Ali’s mobile eyebrows underlined his demand. “The forces of law and order may erupt with blasters blazing.”

But Rip did not move. He faced the riser door squarely and, drawn by something in that stance of his, the other two stepped in on either side so that they fronted the dubious future as a united group. Whatever came now, the Queen’s men would meet it together.

In a way Ali was right. The four men who emerged all had their blasters or riot stun-rifles at ready, and the sights of those weapons were trained at the middles of the Free Traders. As Dane’s empty hands, palm out, went up on a line with his shoulders, he estimated the opposition. Two were in the silver and black of the Patrol, two wore the forest green of the Terrapolice. But they all looked like men with whom it was better not to play games.

And it was clear they were prepared to take no chances with the outlaws. In spite of the passiveness of the Queen’s men, their hands were locked behind them with force bars about their wrists. When a quick search revealed that the three were unarmed, they were herded onto the riser by two of their captors, while the other pair remained behind, presumably to uncover any damage they had done to the Tower installations.

The police did not speak except for a few terse words among themselves and a barked order to march, delivered to the prisoners. Very shortly they were in the entrance hall facing the wreckage of the crawler and doors through which a ragged gap had been burned. Ali viewed the scene with his usual detachment.

“Nice job,” he commended Dane’s enterprise. “They’ll have a moving—”

“Get going!” A heavy hand between his shoulder blades urged him on.

The Engineer-apprentice whirled, his eyes blazing. “Keep your hands to yourself! We aren’t mine fodder yet. I think that the little matter of a trial comes first—”

“You’re Posted,” the Patrolman was openly contemptuous.

Dane was chilled. For the first time that aspect of their predicament really registered. Posted outlaws might, within reason, be shot on sight without further recourse to the law. If that label stuck on the crew of the Queen, they had practically no chance at all. And when he saw that Ali was no longer inclined to retort, he knew that fact had dawned upon Kamil also. It would all depend upon how big an impression their broadcast had made. If public opinion veered to their side—then they could defend themselves legally. Otherwise the moon mines might be the best sentence they dare hope for.

They were pushed out into the brilliant sunlight. There stood the Queen, her meteor scarred side reflecting the light of her native sun. And ringed around her at a safe distance was what seemed to be a small mechanized army corps. The authorities were making very sure that no more rebels would burst from her interior.

Dane thought that they would be loaded into a mobile or ‘copter and taken away. But instead they were marched down, through the ranks of portable flamers, scramblers, and other equipment, to an open space where anyone on duty at the visa-screen within the control cabin of the spacer could see them. An officer of the Patrol, the sun making an eye-blinding flash of his lightning sword breast badge, stood behind a loud speaker. When he perceived that the three prisoners were present, he picked up a hand mike and spoke into it—his voice so being relayed over the field as clearly as it must be reaching Weeks inside the sealed freighter.

“You have five minutes to open hatch. Your men have been taken. Five minutes to open hatch and surrender.”

Ali chuckled. “And how does he think he’s going to enforce that?” he inquired of the air and incidentally of the guards now forming a square about the three. “He’ll need more than a flamer to unlatch the old girl if she doesn’t care for his offer.”

Privately Dane agreed with that. He hoped that Weeks would decide to hold out—at least until they had a better idea of what the future would be. No tool or weapon he saw in the assembly about them was forceful enough to penetrate the shell of the Queen. And there were sufficient supplies on board to keep Weeks and his charges going for at least a week. Since Tau had shown signs of coming out of his coma, it might even be that the crew of the ship would arouse to their own defense in that time. It all depended upon Weeks’ present decision.

No hatch yawned in the ship’s sleek sides. She might have been an inert derelict for all response to that demand. Dane’s confidence began to rise. Weeks had picked up the challenge, he would continue to baffle police and Patrol.

Just how long that stalemate would have lasted they were not to know for another player came on the board. Through the lines of besiegers Hovan, escorted by the Patrolmen, made his way up to the officer at the mike station. There was something in his air which suggested that he was about to give battle. And the conversation at the mike was relayed across the field, a fact of which they were not at once aware.

“There are sick men in there—” Hovan’s voice boomed out. “I demand the right to return to duty—”

“If and when they surrender they shall all be accorded necessary aid,” that was the officer. But he made no impression on the Medic from the frontier. Dane, by chance, had chosen better support than he had guessed.

“Pro Bono Publico—” Hovan invoked the battle cry of his own Service. “For the Public Good—”

“A plague ship—” the officer was beginning. Hovan waved that aside impatiently.

“Nonsense!” His voice scaled up across the field. “There is no plague aboard. I am willing to certify that before the Council. And if you refuse these men medical attention—which they need—I shall cite the case all the way to my Board!”

Dane drew a deep breath. That was taking off on their orbit! Not being one of the Queen’s crew, in fact having good reason to be angry over his treatment at their hands, Hovan’s present attitude would or should carry weight.

The Patrol officer who was not yet ready to concede all points had an answer: “If you are able to get on board—go.”

Hovan snatched the mike from the astonished officer. “Weeks!” His voice was imperative. “I’m coming aboard—alone!”

All eyes were on the ship and for a short period it would seem that Weeks did not trust the Medic. Then, high in her needle nose, one of the escape ports, not intended for use except in dire emergency opened and allowed a plastic link ladder to fall link by link.

Out of the corner of his eye Dane caught a flash of movement to his left. Manacled as he was he threw himself on the policeman who was aiming a stun rifle into the port. His shoulder struck the fellow waist high and his weight carried them both with a bruising crash to the concrete pavement as Rip shouted and hands clutched roughly at the now helpless Cargo-apprentice.

He was pulled to his feet, tasting the flat sweetness of blood where a flailing blow from the surprised and frightened policeman had cut his lip against his teeth. He spat red and glowered at the ring of angry men.

“Why don’t you kick him?” Ali inquired, a vast and blistering contempt sawtoothing his voice. “He’s got his hands cuffed so he’s fair game—”

“What’s going on here?” An officer broke through the ring. The policeman, on his feet once more, snatched up the rifle Dane’s attack had knocked out of his hold.

“Your boy here,” Ali was ready with an answer, “tried to find a target inside the hatch. Is this the usual way you conduct a truce, sir?”

He was answered by a glare and the rifleman was abruptly ordered to the rear. Dane, his head clearing, looked at the Queen. Hovan was climbing the ladder—he was within arm’s length of that half open hatch. The very fact that the Medic had managed to make his point stick was, in a faint way, encouraging. But the three were not allowed to enjoy that small victory for long. They were marched from the field, loaded into a mobile and taken to the city several miles away. It was the Patrol who held them in custody—not the Terrapolice. Dane was not sure whether that was to be reckoned favorable or not. As a Free Trader he had a grudging respect for the organization he had seen in action on Limbo.

Sometime later they found themselves, freed of the force bars, alone in a room which, bare walled as it was, did have a bench on which all three sank thankfully. Dane caught the warning gesture from Ali—they were under unseen observation and they must have a listening audience too—located somewhere in the maze of offices.

“They can’t make up their minds,” the Engineer-apprentice settled his shoulders against the wall. “Either we’re desperate criminals, or we’re heroes. They’re going to let time decide.”

“If we’re heroes,” Dane asked a little querulously, “what are we doing locked up here? I’d like a few earth-side comforts—beginning with a full meal—”

“No thumb printing, no psycho testing,” Rip mused. “Yes, they haven’t put us through the system yet.”

“And we decidedly aren’t the forgotten men. Wipe your face, child,” Ali said to Dane, “you’re still dribbling.”

The Cargo-apprentice smeared his hand across his chin and brought it away red and sticky. Luckily his teeth remained intact.

“We need Hovan to read them more law,” observed Kamil. “You should have medical attention.”

Dane dabbed at his mouth. He didn’t need all that solicitude, but he guessed that Ali was talking for the benefit of those who now kept them under surveillance.

“Speaking of Hovan—I wonder what became of that pest he was supposed to have under control. He didn’t bring the cage with him when he came out of the Tower, did he?” asked Rip.

“If it gets loose in that building,” Dane decided to give the powers who held them in custody something to think about, “they’ll have trouble. Practically invisible and poisonous. And maybe it can reproduce its kind, too. We don’t know anything about it—”

Ali laughed. “Such fun and games! Imagine a hundred of the dear creatures flitting in and out of the broadcasting section. And Captain Jellico has the only Hoobat on Terra! He can name his own terms for rounding up the plague. The whole place will be filled with sleepers before they’re through—”

Would that scrap of information send some Patrolmen hurtling off to the Tower in search of the caged creature? The thought of such an expedition was, in a small way, comforting to the captives.

An hour or so later they were fed, noiselessly and without visible attendants, when three trays slid through a slit in the wall at floor level. Rip’s nose wrinkled.

“Now I get the vector! We’re plague-ridden—keep aloof and watch to see if we break out in purple spots!”

Ali was lifting thermo lids from the containers and now he suddenly arose and bowed in the direction of the blank wall. “Many, many thanks,” he intoned. “Nothing but the best—a sub-commander’s rations at least! We shall deliver top star rating to this thoughtfulness when we are questioned by the powers that shine.”

It was good food. Dane ate cautiously because of his torn lip, but the whole adventure took on a more rose-colored hue. The lapse of time before they were put through the usual procedure followed with criminals, this excellent dinner—it was all promising. The Patrol could not yet be sure how they were to be handled.

“They’ve fed us,” Ali observed as he clanged the last dish back on a tray. “Now you’d think they’d bed us. I could do with several days—and nights—of bunk time right about now.”

But that hint was not taken up and they continued to sit on the bench as time limped by. According to Dane’s watch it must be night now, though the steady light in the windowless room did not vary. What had Hovan discovered in the Queen? Had he been able to rouse any of the crew? And was the spacer still inviolate, or had the Terrapolice and the Patrol managed to take her over?

He was so very tired, his eyes felt as if hot sand had been poured beneath the lids, his body ached. And at last he nodded into naps from which he awoke with jerks of the neck. Rip was frankly asleep, his shoulders and head resting against the wall, while Ali lounged with closed eyes. Though the Cargo-apprentice was sure that Kamil was more alert than his comrades, as if he waited for something he thought was soon to occur.

Dane dreamed. Once more he trod the reef rising out of Sargol’s shallow sea. But he held no weapon and beneath the surface of the water a gorp lurked. When he reached the break in the water-washed rock just ahead, the spidery horror would strike and against its attack he was defenseless. Yet he must march on for he had no control over his own actions!

“Wake up!” Ali’s hand was on his shoulder, shaking him back and forth with something close to gentleness. “Must you give an imitation of a space-whirly moonbat?”

“The gorp—” Dane came back to the present and flushed. He dreaded admitting to a nightmare—especially to Ali whose poise he had always found disconcerting.

“No gorps here. Nothing but—”

Kamil’s words were lost in the escape of metal against metal as a panel slide back in the wall. But no guard wearing the black and silver of the Patrol stepped through to summon them to trial. Van Rycke stood in the opening, half smiling at them with his customary sleepy benevolence.

“Well, well, and here’s our missing ones,” his purring voice was the most beautiful sound Dane thought he had ever heard.


Chapter XVIII

BARGAIN CONCLUDED

“—and so we landed here, sir,” Rip concluded his report in the matter-of-fact tone he might have used in describing a perfectly ordinary voyage, say between Terraport and Luna City, a run of no incident and dull cargo carrying.

The crew of the Solar Queen, save for Tau, were assembled in a room somewhere in the vastness of Patrol Headquarters. Since the room seemed a comfortable conference chamber, Dane thought that their status must now be on a higher level than that of Patrol Posted outlaws. But he was also sure that if they attempted to walk out of the building that effort would not be successful.

Van Rycke sat stolidly in his chosen seat, fingers of both hands laced across his substantial middle. He had sat as impassively as the Captain while Rip had outlined their adventures since they had all been stricken. Though the other listeners had betrayed interest in the story, the senior officers made no comments. Now Jellico turned to his Cargo-master.

“How about it, Van?”

“What’s done is done—”

Dane’s elation vanished as if ripped away by a Sargolian storm wind. The Cargo-master didn’t approve. So there must have been another way to achieve their ends—one the younger members of the crew had been too inexperienced or too dense to see—

“If we blasted off today we might just make cargo contract.”

Dane started. That was it! The point they had lost sight of during their struggles to get aid. There was no possible chance of upping the ship today—probably not for days to come—or ever, if the case went against them. So they had broken contract—and the Board would be down on them for that. Dane shivered inside. He could try to fight back against the Patrol—there had always been a slight feeling of rivalry between the Free Traders and the space police. But you couldn’t buck the Board—and keep your license and so have a means of staying in space. A broken contract could cut one off from the stars forever. Captain Jellico looked very bleak at that reminder.

“The Eysies will be all ready to step in. I’d like to know why they were so sure we had the plague on board—”

Van Rycke snorted. “I can supply you five answers to that—for one they may have known the affinity of those creatures for the wood, and it would be easy to predict as a result of our taking a load on board—or again they may have deliberately planted the things on us through the Salariki—But we can’t ever prove it. It remains that they are going to get for themselves the Sargolian contract unless—” He stopped short, staring straight ahead of him at the wall between Rip and Dane. And his assistant knew that Van was exploring a fresh idea. Van’s ideas were never to be despised and Jellico did not now disturb the Cargo-master with questions.

It was Rip who spoke next and directly to the Captain. “Do you know what they plan to do about us, sir?”

Captain Jellico grunted and there was a sardonic twist to his mouth as he replied, “It’s my opinion that they’re now busy adding up the list of crimes you four have committed—maybe they had to turn the big HG computer loose on the problem. The tally isn’t in yet. We gave them our automat flight record and that ought to give them more food for thought.”

Dane speculated as to what the experts would make of the mechanical record of the Queen’s past few weeks—the section dealing with their landing in the Big Burn ought to be a little surprising. Van Rycke got to his feet and marched to the door of the conference room. It was opened from without so quickly Dane was sure that they had been under constant surveillance.

“Trade business,” snapped the Cargo-master, “contract deal. Take me to a sealed com booth!”

Contracts might not be as sacred to the protective Service as they were to Trade, but Trade had its powers and since Van Rycke, an innocent bystander of the Queen’s troubles, could not legally be charged with any crime, he was escorted out of the room. But the door panel was sealed behind him, shutting in the rest with the unspoken warning that they were not free agents. Jellico leaned back in his chair and stretched. Long years of close friendship had taught him that his Cargo-master was to be trusted with not only the actual trading and cargo tending, but could also think them out of some of the tangles which could not be solved by his own direct action methods. Direct action had been applied to their present problem—now the rest was up to Van, and he was willing to delegate all responsibility.

But they were not left long to themselves. The door opened once more to admit star rank Patrolmen. None of the Free Traders arose. As members of another Service they considered themselves equals. And it was their private boast that the interests of Galactic civilization, as represented by the black and silver, often followed, not preceded the brown tunics into new quarters of the universe.

However, Rip, Ali, Dane, and Weeks answered as fully as they could the flood of questions which engulfed them. They explained in detail their visit to the E-Stat, the landing in the Big Burn, the kidnapping of Hovan. Dane’s stubborn feeling of being in the right grew in opposition to the questioning. Under the same set of circumstances how would that Commander—that Wing Officer—that Senior Scout—now all seated there—have acted? And every time they inferred that his part in the affair had been illegal he stiffened.

Sure, there had to be law and order out on the Rim—and doubly sure it had to cover and protect life on the softer planets of the inner systems. He wasn’t denying that on Limbo, he, for one, had been very glad to see the Patrol blast their way into the headquarters of the pirates holed up on that half-dead world. And he was never contemptuous of the men in the field. But like all Free Traders he was influenced by a belief that too often the laws as enforced by the Patrol favored the wealth and might of the Companies, that law could be twisted and the Patrol sent to push through actions which, though legal, were inherently unfair to those who had not the funds to fight it out in the far off Council courts. Just as now he was certain that the Eysies were bringing all the influence they had to bear here against the Queen’s men. And Inter-Solar had a lot of influence.

At the end of their ordeal their statements were read back to them from the recording tape and they thumb signed them. Were these statements or confessions, Dane mused. Perhaps in their honest reports they had just signed their way into the moon mines. Only there was no move to lead them out and book them. And when Weeks pressed his thumb at the bottom of the tape, Captain Jellico took a hand. He looked at his watch.

“It is now ten hours,” he observed. “My men need rest, and we all want food. Are you through with us?”

The Commander was spokesman for the other group. “You are to remain in quarantine, Captain. Your ship has not yet been passed as port-free. But you will be assigned quarters—”

Once again they were marched through blank halls to the other section of the sprawling Patrol Headquarters. No windows looked upon the outer world, but there were bunks and a small mess alcove. Ali, Dane, and Rip turned in, more interested in sleep than food. And the last thing the Cargo-apprentice remembered was seeing Jellico talking earnestly with Steen Wilcox as they both sipped steaming mugs of real Terran coffee.

But with twelve hours of sleep behind them the three were less contented in confinement. No one had come near them and Van Rycke had not returned. Which fact the crew clung to as a ray of hope. Somewhere the Cargo-master must be fighting their battle. And all Van’s vast store of Trade knowledge, all his knack of cutting corners and driving a shrewd bargain, enlisted on their behalf, must win them some concessions.

Medic Tau came in, bringing Hovan with him. Both looked tired but triumphant. And their report was a shot in the arm for the now uneasy Traders.

“We’ve rammed it down their throats,” Tau announced. “They’re willing to admit that it was those poison bugs and not a plague. Incidentally,” he grinned at Jellico and then looked around expectantly, “where’s Van? This comes in his department. We’re going to cash in on those the kids dumped in the deep freeze. Terra-Lab is bidding on them. I said to see Van—he can arrange the best deal for us. Where is he?”

“Gone to see about our contract,” Jellico reported. “What’s the news about our status now?”

“Well, they’ve got to wipe out the plague ship listing. Also—we’re big news. There’re about twenty video men rocketing around out in the offices trying to get in and have us do some spot broadcasts. Seems that the children here,” he jerked his thumb at the three apprentices, “started something. An inter-solar invasion couldn’t be bigger news! Human interest by the tankful. I’ve been on Video twice and they’re trying to sign up Hovan almost steady—”

The Medic from the frontier nodded. “Wanted me to appear on a three week schedule,” he chuckled. “I was asked to come in on ‘Our Heroes of the Starlines’ and two Quiz programs. As for you, you young criminal,” he swung to Dane, “you’re going to be fair game for about three networks. It seems you transmit well,” he uttered the last as if it were an accusation and Dane squirmed. “Anyway you did something with your crazy stunt. And, Captain, three men want to buy your Hoobat. I gather they are planning a showing of how it captures those pests. So be prepared—”

Dane tried to visualize a scene in which he shared top billing with Queex and shuddered. All he wanted now was to get free of Terra for a nice, quiet, uncomplicated world where problems could be settled with a sleep rod or a blaster and the Video screen was unknown.

Having heard of what awaited them without, the men of the Queen were more content to be incarcerated in the quarantine section. But as time wore on and the Cargo-master did not return, their anxieties awoke. They were fairly sure by now that any penalty the Patrol or the Terrapolice would impose would not be too drastic. But a broken contract was another and more serious affair—a matter which might ground them more effectively than any rule of the law enforcement bodies. And Jellico took to pacing the room, while Tang and Wilcox who had started a game of four dimensional chess made countless errors of move, and Stotz glared moodily at the wall, apparently too sunk in his own gloomy thoughts to rise from the mess table in the alcove.

Though time had ceased to have much meaning for them except as an irritating reminder of the now sure failure of their Sargolian venture, they marked the hours into a second full day of detention before Van Rycke finally put in appearance. The Cargo-master was plainly tired, but he showed no signs of discomposure. In fact as he came in he was humming what he fondly imagined was a popular tune.

Jellico asked no questions, he merely regarded his trusted officer with a quizzically raised eyebrow. But the others drew around. It was so apparent that Van Rycke was pleased with himself. Which could only mean that in some fantastic way he had managed to bring their venture down in a full fin landing, that somehow he had argued the Queen out of danger into a position where he could control the situation.

He halted just within the doorway and eyed Dane, Ali, and Rip with mock severity. “You’re baaaad boys,” he told them with a shake of the head and a drawl of the adjective. “You’ve been demoted ten files each on the list.”

Which must put him on the bottom rung once more, Dane calculated swiftly. Or even below—though he didn’t see how he could fall beneath the rank he held at assignment. However, he found the news heartening instead of discouraging. Compared to a bleak sentence at the moon mines such demotion was absolutely nothing and he knew that Van Rycke was breaking the worst news first.

“You also forfeit all pay for this voyage,” the Cargo-master was continuing. But Jellico broke in.

“Board fine?”

At the Cargo-master’s nod, Jellico added. “Ship pays that.”

“So I told them,” Van Rycke agreed. “The Queen’s warned off Terra for ten solar years—”

They could take that, too. Other Free Traders got back to their home ports perhaps once in a quarter century. It was so much less than they had expected that the sentence was greeted with a concentrated sigh of relief.

“No earth-side leave—”

All right—no leave. They were not, after their late experiences so entranced with Terraport that they wanted to linger in its environs any longer than they had to.

“We lose the Sargol contract—”

That did hurt. But they had resigned themselves to it since the hour when they had realized that they could not make it back to the perfumed planet.

“To Inter-Solar?” Wilcox asked the important question.

Van Rycke was smiling broadly, as if the loss he had just announced was in some way a gain. “No—to Combine!”

“Combine?” the Captain echoed and his puzzlement was duplicated around the circle. How did Inter-Solar’s principal rival come into it?

“We’ve made a deal with Combine,” Van Rycke informed them. “I wasn’t going to let I-S cash in on our loss. So I went to Vickers at Combine and told him the situation. He understands that we were in solid with the Salariki and that the Eysies are not. And a chance to point a blaster at I-S’s tail is just what he has been waiting for. The shipment will go out to the storm priests tomorrow on a light cruiser—it’ll make it on time.”

Yes, a light cruiser, one of the fast ships maintained by the big Companies, could make the transition to Sargol with a slight margin to spare. Stotz nodded his approval at this practical solution.

“I’m going with it—” That did jerk them all up short. For Van Rycke to leave the Queen—that was as unthinkable as if Captain Jellico had suddenly announced that he was about to retire and become a kelp farmer. “Just for the one trip,” the Cargo-master hastened to assure them. “I smooth their vector with the storm priests and hand over so the Eysies will be frozen out—”

Captain Jellico interrupted at that point. “D’you mean that Combine is buying us out—not just taking over? What kind of a deal—”

But Van Rycke, his smile a brilliant stretch across his plump face, was nodding in agreement. “They’re taking over our contract and our place with the Salariki.”

“In return for what?” Steen Wilcox asked for them all.

“For twenty-five thousand credits and a mail run between Xecho and Trewsworld—frontier planets. They’re far enough from Terra to get around the exile ruling. The Patrol will escort us out and see that we get down to work like good little space men. We’ll have two years of a nice, quiet run on regular pay. Then, when all the powers that shine have forgotten about us, we can cut in on the trade routes again.”

“And the pay?” “First or second class mail?” “When do we start?”

“Standard pay on the completion of each run—Board rates,” he made replies in order. “First, second and third class mail—anything that bears the government seal and out in those quarters it is apt to be anything! And you start as soon as you can get to Xecho and relieve the Combine scout which has been holding down the run.”

“While you go to Sargol—” commented Jellico.

“While I make one voyage to Sargol. You can spare me,” he dropped one of his big hands on Dane’s shoulder and gave the flesh beneath it a quick squeeze. “Seeing as how our juniors helped pull us out of this last mix-up we can trust them about an inch farther than we did before. Anyway—Cargo-master on a mail run is more or less a thumb-twiddling job at the best. And you can trust Thorson on stowage—that’s one thing he does know.” Which dubious ending left Dane wondering as to whether he had been complimented or warned. “I’ll be on board again before you know it—the Combine will ship me out to Trewsworld on your second trip across and I’ll join ship there. For once we won’t have to worry for awhile. Nothing can happen on a mail run.” He shook his head at the three youngest members of the crew. “You’re in for a very dull time—and it will serve you right. Give you a chance to learn your jobs so that when you come up for reassignment you can pick up some of those files you were just demoted. Now,” he started briskly for the door, “I’ll tranship to the Combine cruiser. I take it that you don’t want to meet the Video people?”

At their hasty agreement to that, he laughed. “Well, the Patrol doesn’t want the Video spouting about ‘high-handed official news suppression’ so about an hour or so from now you’ll be let out the back way. They put the Queen in a cradle and a field scooter will take you to her. You’ll find her serviced for a take-off to Luna City. You can refit there for deep space. Frankly the sooner you get off-world the happier all ranks are going to be—both here and on the Board. It will be better for us to walk softly for a while and let them forget that the Solar Queen and her crazy crew exists. Separately and together you’ve managed to break—or at least bend—half the laws in the books and they’d like to have us out of their minds.”

Captain Jellico stood up. “They aren’t any more anxious to see us go than we are to get out of here. You’ve pulled it off for us again, Van, and we’re lucky to get out of it this easy—”

Van Rycke rolled his eyes ceilingward. “You’ll never know how lucky! Be glad Combine hates the space I-S blasts through. We were able to use that to our advantage. Get the big fellows at each others’ throats and they’ll stop annoying us—simple proposition but it works. Anyway we’re set in blessed and peaceful obscurity now. Thank the Spirit of Free Space there’s practically no trouble one can get into on a safe and sane mail route!”

But Cargo-master Van Rycke, in spite of knowing the Solar Queen and the temper of her crew, was exceedingly over-optimistic when he made that emphatic statement.

The End.

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A Postcard From Pre-Totalitarian America; A Warning for what is Coming.

After around three decades of increasing progressive Marxism and “Woke” nonsense, the assaults seem (or appear) to have subsided somewhat. It’s no longer “in your face” as badly as it was under the Obama Administration. But, I am here to tell you that it has not subsided, that it is not going away. It is only in remission, and we can expect that the dangerous stew that is brewing inside our schools, inside our institutions, and inside our government is going to boil-over. Maybe not now, and maybe not under a Trump Presidency, but it will decidedly boil-over and it will affect YOU.

Here is an interesting article from a Russian Immigrant that is in the university setting and comments on what it is like being around all these “woke” progressive Marxist idealists… the very ones that will be running America very shortly. Please pay attention, and understand that America is destined for change…

It might be calm and methodical, or radical and abrupt with many painful days. But whatever form it takes, it will be uncomfortable. Read this and consider what it means when every company, every school, every bureaucracy, every organization and at every government level these people are in control

This is a reprint of “Postcard From Pre-Totalitarian America” by Rod Dreher . It was written on 18FEB20. All credit to the authors and please note that it is edited to fit this venue.

Postcard From Pre-Totalitarian America

Woke! ‘The fanatical glimmer in their eyes really scares me’

Last year, I spoke to a Soviet-born scholar who teaches in an American public university. I’m using a quote from our discussion in my forthcoming (September) book, Live Not By Lies. This morning, she sent me this e-mail, which I reproduce here with her permission:

I know from your blog that the work on your new book is going well and I’m glad because, boy, it’s so needed.

I’m observing some disturbing developments on my campus, and we are really not one of those wokester schools for spoiled brats one normally associates with this kind of thing.

This academic year I’ve had an opportunity to work with some early-career academics. These are newly-minted PhDs that are in their first year on the tenure-track.

What’s really scary is that they sincerely believe all the woke dogma.

Older people – those in their forties, fifties or sixties – might parrot the woke mantras because it’s what everybody in academia does and you have to survive.

But the younger generation actually believes it all.

Transwomen are women, black students fail calculus because there are no calc profs who “look like them,” ‘whiteness’ is the most oppressive thing in the world, the US is the most evil country in history, anybody who votes Republican is a racist, everybody who goes to church is a bigot but the hijab is deeply liberating.

I gently mocked some of this stuff (like we normally do among older academics), and two of the younger academics in the group I supervise actually cried…

Because they believe all this so deeply, and I’d even say fanatically, that they couldn’t comprehend why I wasn’t taking it seriously.

The fanatical glimmer in their eyes really scared me.

Back in the USSR in the 1970s and the 1980s nobody believed the dogma.

People repeated the ideological mantras for cynical reasons, to get advanced in their careers or get food packages. Many did it to protect their kids. But nobody sincerely believed.

That is what ultimately saved us.

As soon as the regime weakened a bit, it was doomed because there were no sincere believers any more.

Everybody who did take the dogma seriously belonged to the generation of my great-grandparents.

In the US, though, the generation of the fanatical believers is only now growing up and coming into its prime.

We’ll have to wait until their grand-kids grow up to see a generation that will be so fed up with the dogma that it will embrace freedom of thought and expression. But that’s a long way away in the future.

I’m mentoring a group of young scholars in the Humanities to help them do research, and I’m starting to hate this task.

Young scholars almost without exception think that scholarship is entirely about repeating woke slogans completely uncritically.

Again, this is different from the USSR where scholars peppered their writing with the slogans but always took great pride in trying to sneak in some real thinking and real analysis behind the required ideological drivel.

Every Soviet scholar starting from the 1970s was a dissident at heart because everybody knew that the ideology was rotten.

All of this is sad and very scary.

I never thought I’d experience anything worse, anything more intellectually stifling than the USSR of its last two decades of existence. But now I do see something worse.

The book you are writing is very important, and I hope that many people hear your message.

Folks, Americans are extremely naive about what’s coming. We just cannot imagine that people who burst into tears in the face of gentle mockery of their political beliefs can ever come to power.

They are already in power, in the sense that they have mesmerized leaders of American institutions.

I’m telling you, that 2015 showdown on Yale’s campus between Prof. Nicholas Christakis and the shrieking students was profoundly symbolic.

Christakis used the techniques of discursive reason to try to establish contact with these young people.

None of it mattered.

They yelled and cursed and sobbed.

The fact that he disagreed with them, they took as an assault on their person.

And Yale University caved to them! 

This stuff is so outrageous that we can’t wrap our minds around how these people will ever come to rule us. Listen to what these people who grew up under communism are saying! 

Nadine Gordimer said:

“All the young are candidates for the solutions of communism or fascism when there are no alternatives to despair or dissipation.”

The religion of social justice is rushing in to fill the vacuum. Nice liberals, and nice conservatives, cannot allow themselves to think of where this might go. Solzhenitsyn knew better:

If the intellectuals in the plays of Chekhov who spent all their time guessing what would happen in twenty, thirty, or forty years had been told that in forty years interrogation by torture would be practiced in Russia;

…that prisoners would have their skulls squeezed within iron rings, that a human being would be lowered into an acid bath; that they would be trussed up naked to be bitten by ants and bedbugs; that a ramrod heated over a primus stove would be thrust up their anal canal (the “secret brand”); that a man’s genitals would be slowly crushed beneath the toe of a jackboot; and that, in the luckiest possible circumstances, prisoners would be tortured by being kept from sleeping for a week, by thirst, and by being beaten to a bloody pulp…

… not one of Chekhov’s plays would have gotten to its end because all the heroes would have gone off to insane asylums.

So did Dr. Silvester Krcmery, a Slovak Catholic lay leader in the underground church, who suffered isolation and torture in a communist prison for his faith and resistance.

In the memoir he wrote after communism’s fall, Krcmery warned future generations that the past could be prelude to the future if they were not vigilant:

We are so often naive in our thinking. We live, contented and safe, with the idea that in a civilized country, in the mostly cultured and democratic environment of our times, such a coercive regime is impossible.

We forget that in unstable countries, a certain political structure can lead to indoctrination and terror, where individual elements and stages of brainwashing are already implemented.

This, at first, is quite inconspicuous.

However, often in a very short time, it can develop into a full undemocratic totalitarian system.

Hannah Arendt, in her 1951 study The Origins of Totalitarianism, said these factors in German and Russian society made them susceptible to Nazism and Bolshevism, respectively:

  • Loneliness
  • Social Atomization
  • Loss of Faith In Hierarchies And Institutions
  • The Desire To Transgress And Destroy
  •  Indifference to Truth, and the Willingness To Believe Useful Lies
  • A Mania for Ideology
  • A Society That Values Loyalty More Than Expertise
  • The Politicization of Everything

If you think we’re not going on full-tilt on these things, you aren’t paying attention.

Some people seem to think that the Arendt list is somehow faulting the Left. It’s not, at least not intentionally. She said these factors were present in both Germany, which went to the hard right, and Russia, which went to the hard left. I think these factors are present in our society, period. Some of them are stronger on the Left, it is true, but I think they’re all simply present. Is loneliness a Right or a Left thing? Is social atomization?

Rod Dreher is a senior editor at The American Conservative.

Conclusion

I read this article with a great degree of sadness. Americans are within a propagandized bubble. Outside of that bubble, everything is dark, evil and dangerous. Inside that bubble you are either ‘woke” or an enemy.

Americans live within an artificial bubble. The inside of the bubble is a narrative that is increasingly defined by the American mainstream press. Many can see what bullshit is is, so they try to find other sources for news. Outside the bubble is a complete fabrication that the mainstream media controls. It's all a big lie.
Americans live within an artificial bubble. The inside of the bubble is a narrative that is increasingly defined by the American mainstream press. Many can see what bullshit is is, so they try to find other sources for news. Outside the bubble is a complete fabrication that the mainstream media controls. It’s all a big lie.

I am outside the bubble and I see all of this quite clearly.

Outside the Bubble

I am in Communist China, but it doesn’t resemble anything like what Americans fear it to be.

Yet, it almost went off-the-cliff.

There was a big show-down between the hard-line Communist / Marxist elements and their armies of progressive idealists during the “cultural revolution” and it could have gone downhill really fast.

Instead they embraced other things… like traditional conservative Chinese values, the idea of working hard and achieving things through merit, and contributing instead of fighting the government.

And..

… and now today, China is a nation of traditional conservative pragmatists, and all those Marxist idealists are off in re-education camps. Like the Falin Gong, the “pro-democracy” pawns, and the Muslim religious extremists.

You don’t hear about all that.

America is about “democracy!” China doesn’t have it. So it’s bad.

People! The world is not what CNN, and FOX tell you. It is something all together different. Now, I can talk until I am blue in my face, but you will never be convinced until you experience things FIRST HAND. I implore you to do just that.

So, just recognize that the world “outside” of America is not what you are led to believe and expect.

Meanwhile… on the inside of this bubble….

Inside of the Bubble

Radical idealists are now infiltrating all the organs of power. The government and the political factions are permitting this, and soon, once they have regained full control of the levers of power, they will implement their ideology.

  • First will be the disarming.
  • Then will be the collections of people on the lists.
  • Then will be the FEMA camps.

What comes next will not be recorded for history.


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Zero Hour (Full text) by Ray Bradbury

This is a very short science-fiction story by Ray Bradbury. It is about how a race of extraterrestrials invade the United States. They use American children.

Oh, it was to be so jolly! What a game! Such excitement they hadn’t known in years. The children catapulted this way and that across the green lawns, shouting at each other, holding hands, flying in circles, climbing trees, laughing. Overhead the rockets flew, and beetle cars whispered by on the streets, but the children played on. Such fun, such tremulous joy, such tumbling and hearty screaming.

Mink ran into the house, all dirty and sweat. For her seven years she was loud and strong and definite. Her mother, Mrs. Morris, hardly saw her as she yanked out drawers and rattled pans and tools into a large sack.

‘Heavens, Mink, what’s going on?’

‘The most exciting game ever!’ gasped Mink, pink-faced. ‘Stop and get your breath,’ said the mother.

‘No, I’m all right,’ gasped Mink. ‘Okay I take these things, Mom?’ ‘But don’t dent them,’ said Mrs. Morris.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ cried Mink, and boom! She was gone, like a rocket. Mrs. Morris surveyed the fleeing tot. ‘What’s the name of the game?’ ‘Invasion!’ said Mink. The door slammed.

In every yard on the street children brought out knives and forks and pokers and old stovepipes and can-openers.

It was an interesting fact that this fury and bustle occurred only among the younger children. The older ones, those ten years and more, disdained the affair and marched scornfully off on hikes or played a more dignified version of hide-and-seek on their own.

Meanwhile, parents came and went in chromium beetles. Repair men came to repair the vacuum elevators in houses, to fix fluttering television sets or hammer upon stubborn food-delivery tubes. The adult civilization passed and repassed the busy youngsters, jealous of the fierce energy of the wild tots, tolerantly amused at their flourishings, longing to join in themselves.

‘This and this and this,’ said Mink, instructing the thers with their assorted spoons and wrenches. ‘Do that, and bring that over here. No! Here, ninny! Right. Now, get back while I fix this.’ Tongue in teeth, face wrinkled in thought. ‘Like that. See?’

‘Yayyy!’ shouted the kids.

Twelve-year-old Joseph Connors ran up. ‘Go away,’ said Mink straight at him.

‘I wanna play,’ said Joseph. ‘Can’t!’ said Mink.

‘Why not?’

‘You’d just make fun of us.’ ‘Honest, I wouldn’t.’

‘No. We know you. Go away or we’ll kick you.’

Another twelve-year-old boy whirred by on little motor skates. ‘Hey, Joe! Come on!

Let them sissies play!’

Joseph showed reluctance and a certain wistfulness ‘I want to play,’ he said. ‘You’re old,’ said Mink firmly.

‘Not that old,’ said Joe sensibly.

‘You’d only laugh and spoil the Invasion.’

The boy on the motor skates made a rude lip noise. ‘Come on, Joe! Them and their fairies! Nuts!’

Joseph walked off slowly. He kept looking back, all down the block.

Mink was already busy again. She made a kind of apparatus with her gathered equipment. She had appointed another little girl with a pad and pencil to take down notes in painful slow scribbles.  Their voices rose and fell in the warm sunlight.

All around them the city hummed. The streets were lined with good green and peaceful trees. Only the wind made a conflict across the city, across the country, across the continent. In a thousand other cities there were trees and children and avenues, businessmen in their quiet offices taping their voices, or watching television. Rockets hovered like darning needles in the blue sky. There was the universal, quiet conceit and easiness of men accustomed to peace, quite certain there would never be trouble again. Arm in arm, men all over earth were a united front. The perfect weapons were held in equal trust by all nations. A situation of incredibly beautiful balance had been brought about. There were no traitors among men, no unhappy ones, no disgruntled ones; therefore the world was based upon a stable ground. Sunlight illumined half the world and the trees drowsed in a tide of warm air.

Mink’s mother, from her upstairs window, gazed down.

The children. She looked upon them and shook her head. Well, they’d eat well, sleep well, and be in school on Monday. Bless their vigorous little bodies. She listened.

Mink talked earnestly to someone near the rose bush – though there was no one

there.

These odd children. And the little girl, what was her name? Anna? Anna took notes on a pad. First, Mink asked the rosebush a question, then called the answer to Anna.

‘Triangle,’ said Mink.

‘What’s a tri,’ said Anna with difficulty, ‘angle?’ ‘Never mind,’ said Mink.

‘How you spell it?’ asked Anna.

‘T-r-i —‘ spelled Mink slowly, then snapped, ‘Oh, spell it yourself!’ She went on to other words. ‘Beam,’ she said.

‘I haven’t got tri,’ said Anna, ‘angle down yet!’ ‘Well, hurry, hurry!’ cried Mink.

Mink’s mother leaned out of the upstairs window. ‘A-n-g-I-e,’ she spelled down at

Anna.

‘Oh, thanks, Mrs. Morris,’ said Anna.

‘Certainly,’  said  Mink’s  mother  and  withdrew,  laughing,  to  dust  the  hall  with  an electro-duster magnet.

The voices wavered on the shimmery air. ‘Beam,’ said Anna. Fading.

Four-nine-seven-A-and-B-and-X,’ said Mink, far away, seriously. ‘And a fork and a string and a — hex-hex-agony — hexagonal!’

At lunch Mink gulped milk at one toss and was at the door.  Her mother slapped the

table.

‘You sit right back down,’ commanded Mrs. Morris. ‘Hot soup in a minute.’ She poked a red button on the kitchen butler, and ten seconds later something landed with a hump in the rubber receiver. Mrs. Morris opened it, took out a can with a pair of aluminium holders, unsealed it with a flick, and poured hot soup into a bowl.

During all this Mink fidgeted. ‘Hurry, Mom! This is a matter of life and death! Aw -‘ ‘I was the same way at your age. Always life and death, I know.’

Mink banged away at the soup. ‘Slow down,’ said Mom.

‘Can’t,’ said Mink. ‘Drill’s waiting for me.’  ‘Who’s Drill? What a peculiar name,’ said Mom. ‘You don’t know him,’ said Mink.

‘A new boy in the neighbourhood?’ asked Mom.

‘He’s new all right,’ said Mink. She started on her second bowl.

‘Which one is Drill?’ asked Mom.

‘He’s around,’ said Mink evasively. ‘You’ll make fun.     Everybody pokes fun. Gee, darn. ‘

‘Is Drill shy?’

‘Yes. No. In a way. Gosh, Mom, I got to run if we want to have the Invasion!’ ‘Who’s invading what?’

‘Martians invading Earth. Well, not exactly Martians.   They’re – I don’t know. From up.’ She pointed with her spoon.

‘And inside,’ said Mom, touching Mink’s feverish brow.

Mink rebelled. ‘You’re laughing! You’ll kill Drill and everybody.’ ‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Mom. ‘Drill’s a Martian?’

‘No. He’s – well – maybe from Jupiter or Saturn or Venus. Anyway, he’s had a hard

time.’

‘I imagine.’ Mrs. Morris hid her mouth behind her hand. ‘They couldn’t figure a way to attack Earth.’

‘We’re impregnable,’ said Mom in mock seriousness.

‘That’s the word Drill used! Impreg – That was the word, Mom.’ ‘My, my, Drill’s a brilliant little boy.  Two-bit words.’

‘They couldn’t figure a way to attack, Mom. DrilI says – he says in order to make a good fight you got to have a new way of surprising people. That way you win. And he says also you got to have help from your enemy.’

‘A fifth column,’ said Mom.

‘Yeah. That’s what Drill said. And they couldn’t figure a way to surprise Earth or get

help.’

‘No wonder. We’re pretty darn strong.’ Mom laughed, cleaning up. Mink sat there, staring at the table, seeing what she was talking about.

‘Until, one day,’ whispered Mink melodramatically, ‘they thought of children!’

‘Well!’ said Mrs. Morris brightly.

‘And they thought of how grown-ups are so busy they never look under rose bushes or on lawns!’

‘Only for snails and fungus.’

‘And then there’s something about dim-dims.’ ‘Dim-dims?’

‘Dimens-shuns.’ ‘Dimensions?’

‘Four of ‘em!  And there’s something about kids under nine and imagination. It’s real funny to hear Drill talk.’

Mrs. Morris was tired. ‘Well, it must he funny. You’re keeping Drill waiting now. It’s getting late in the day and, if you want to have your Invasion before your supper bath, you’d better jump.’

‘Do I have to take a bath?’ growled Mink.

‘You do! Why is it children hate water? No matter what age you live in children hate water behind the ears!’

‘Drill says I won’t have to take baths,’ said Mink. ‘Oh, he does, does he?’

‘He told all the kids that. No more baths. And we can stay up till ten o’clock and go to two televisor shows on Saturday ‘stead of one!’

‘Well, Mr. Drill better mind his p’s and q’s. I’ll call up his mother and —‘

Mink went to the door. ‘We’re having trouble with guys like Pete Britz and Dale Jerrick. They’re growing up. They make fun. They’re worse than parents. They just won’t believe in Drill. They’re so snooty, ‘cause they’re growing up. You’d think they’d know better. They were little only a coupla years ago. I hate them worst. We’ll kill them first.’

‘Your father and I last?’

‘Drill says you’re dangerous. Know why? ‘Cause you don’t believe in Martians! They’re going to let us run the world. Well, not just us, but the kids over in the next block, too. I might be queen.’ She opened the door.

‘Mom?’

‘Yes?’

‘What’s lodge-ick?’

‘Logic? Why, dear, logic is knowing what things are true and not true.’

‘He mentioned that,’ said Mink. ‘And what’s im-pres-sion-able?’ It took her a minute to say it.

‘Why, it means –‘ Her mother looked at the floor, laughing gently. ‘It means — to be a child, dear.’

‘Thanks for lunch!’ Mink ran out, then stuck her head back in. ‘Mom, I’ll be sure you won’t be hurt much, really!’

‘Well, thanks,’ said Mom.

Slam went the door.

At four o’clock the audio-visor buzzed. Mrs. Morris flipped the tab. ‘Hello, Helen!’ she said in welcome.

‘Hello, Mary. How are things in New York?’

‘Fine. How are things in Scranton? You look tired.’ ‘So do you.  The children. Underfoot,’ said Helen.

Mrs. Morris sighed.  ‘My Mink too. The super-Invasion.’ Helen laughed. ‘Are your kids playing that game too?’

‘Lord, yes. Tomorrow it’ll be geometrical jacks and motorized hopscotch. Were we this bad when we were kids in ‘48?’

‘Worse. Japs and Nazis. Don’t know how my parents put up with me. Tomboy.’ ‘Parents learn to shut their ears.’

A silence.

‘What’s wrong, Mary?’ asked Helen.

Mrs. Morris’s eyes were half closed; her tongue slid slowly thoughtfully, over her lower lip. ‘Eh?’ She jerked. ‘Oh, nothing. Just thought about that. Shutting ears and such. Never mind. Where were we?’

‘My boy Tim’s got a crush on some guy named DrilI, I think it was.’ ‘Must be a new password. Mink likes him too.’

‘Didn’t know it had got as far as New York. Word of mouth, I imagine. Looks like a scrap drive. I talked to Josephine and she said her kids — that’s in Boston – are wild on this new game. It’s sweeping the country.’

At this moment Mink trotted into the kitchen to gulp a glass of water. Mrs. Morris turned. ‘How’re things going?’

‘Almost finished,’ said Mink.

‘Swell,’ said Mrs. Morris. ‘What’s that?’

‘A yo-yo,’ said Mink. ‘Watch.’

She flung the yo-yo down its string. Reaching the end it — It vanished.

‘See?’ said Mink. ‘Ope!’ Dibbling her finger, she made the yo-yo reappear and zip up the string.

‘Do that again,’ said her mother.

‘Can’t.  Zero hour’s five o’clock! Bye.’ Mink exited, zipping her yo-yo.

On the audio-visor, Helen laughed. ‘Tim brought one of those yo-yos in this morning, but when I got curious he said he wouldn’t show it to me, and when I tried to work it, finally, it wouldn’t work.’

‘You’re not impressionable,’ said Mrs. Morris. ‘What?’

‘Never mind. Something I thought of. Can I help you, Helen?’ ‘I wanted to get that black-and-white cake recipe –‘

The hour drowsed by. The way waned. The sun lowered in the peaceful blue sky. Shadows lengthened on the green lawns. The laughter and excitement continued. One little girl ran away, crying. Mrs. Morris came out the front door.

‘Mink was that Peggy Ann crying?’

Mink was bent over in the yard, near the rosebush. ‘Yeah. She’s a scarebaby. We won’t let her play, now. She’s getting too old to play. I guess she grew up all of a sudden.’

‘Is that why she cried? Nonsense. Give me a civil answer, young lady, or inside you

come!’

Mink whirled in consternation, mixed with irritation. ‘I can’t quit now. It’s almost time.

I’ll be good. I’m sorry.’

‘Did you hit Peggy Ann?’

‘No, honest. You ask her.  It was something — well, she’s just a scaredy pants.’

The ring of children drew in around Mink where she scowled at her work with spoons and a kind of square-shaped arrangement of hammers and pipes. ‘There and there,’ murmured Mink.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Mrs. Morris.

‘Drill’s stuck. Half-way. If we could only get him all the way through it’d be easier.

Then the others could come through after him.’ ‘Can I help?’

‘No thanks. I’ll fix it.’

‘All right. I’ll call you for your bath in half an hour. I’m tired of watching you.’

She went in and sat in the electric relaxing chair, sipping a little beer from a half- empty glass. The chair massaged her back. Children, children. Children and love and hate, side by side. Sometimes children loved you, hated you -~ all in half a second. Strange children, did they ever forget or forgive the whippings and the harsh, strict words of command? She wondered. How can you ever forget or forgive those over and above you, those tall and silly dictators?

Time passed. A curious, waiting silence came upon the street, deepening.

Five o’clock. A clock sang softly somewhere in the house in a quiet musical voice: ‘Five o’clock — five o’clock. Time’s a-wasting. Five o’clock —‘ and purred away into silence.

Zero hour.

Mrs. Morris chuckled in her throat.  Zero hour.

A beetle car hummed into the driveway. Mr. Morris. Mrs. Morris smiled. Mr. Morris got out of the beetle, locked it, and called hello to Mink at her work. Mink ignored him. He laughed and stood for a moment watching the children. Then he walked up the front steps.

‘Hello, darling.’ ‘Hello, Henry.’

She strained forward on the edge of the chair, listening. The children were silent. Too silent.  He emptied his pipe, refilled it. ‘Swell day. Makes you glad to be alive.’

Buzz.

‘What’s that?’ asked Henry.

‘I don’t know.’ She got up suddenly, her eyes widening. She was going to say something. She stopped it. Ridiculous. Her nerves jumped. ‘Those children haven’t anything dangerous out there, have they?’ she said.

‘Nothing but pipes and hammers. Why?’ ‘Nothing electrical?’

‘Heck, no,’ said Henry. ‘I looked.’

She walked to the kitchen. The buzzing continued. ‘Just the same, you’d better go tell them to quit. It’s after five. Tell them – ‘ Her eyes widened and narrowed. ‘Tell them to put off their Invasion until tomorrow.’ She laughed, nervously.

The buzzing grew louder.

‘What are they up to? I’d better go look, all right.’ The explosion!

The house shook with dull sound. There were other explosions in other yards on other streets.

Involuntarily, Mrs. Morris screamed. ‘Up this way!’ she cried senselessly, knowing no sense, no reason. Perhaps she saw something from the corners of her eyes; perhaps she smelled a new odor or heard a new noise. There was no time to argue with Henry to convince him. Let him think her insane. Yes, insane! Shrieking, she ran upstairs. He ran after her to see what she was up to. ‘In the attic!’ she screamed. ‘That’s where it is!’ It was only a poor excuse to get him in the attic in time. Oh, God – in time!

Another explosion outside. The children screamed with delight, as  if at a great fireworks display.

‘It’s not in the attic,’ cried Henry. ‘It’s outside!’

‘No, no!’ Wheezing, gasping, she fumbled at the attic door. ‘I’ll show you. Hurry! I’ll show you!’

They tumbled into the attic. She slammed the door, locked it, took the key, threw it into a far, cluttered corner.

She was babbling wild stuff now. It came out of her. All the subconscious suspicion and fear that had gathered secretly all afternoon and fermented like a wine in her. All the little revelations and knowledges and sense that had bothered her all day and which she had logically and carefully and sensibly rejected and censored. Now it exploded in her and shook her to bits.

‘There, there,’ she said, sobbing against the door. ‘We’re safe until tonight. Maybe we can sneak out. Maybe we can escape!’

Henry blew up too, but for another reason. ‘Are you crazy? Why’d you throw that key away? Damn it, honey!’

‘Yes, yes, I’m crazy, if it helps, but stay here with me!’ ‘I don’t know how in hell I can get out!’

‘Quiet. They’ll hear us. Oh, God, they’ll find us soon enough – ‘

Below them, Mink’s voice. The husband stopped. There was a great universal humming and sizzling, a screaming and giggling. Downstairs the audio-televisor buzzed and buzzed insistently, alarmingly, violently. Is that Helen calling? thought Mrs. Morris. And is she calling about what I think she’s calling about?

Footsteps came into the house. Heavy footsteps.

‘Who’s coming in my house?’ demanded Henry angrily. ‘Whose tramping around down there?’

Heavy feet. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty of them. Fifty persons crowding into the house.

The humming. The giggling of the children. ‘This way!’ cried Mink, below. ‘Who’s downstairs?’ roared Henry. ‘Who’s there!’

‘Hush. Oh, nononononono!’ said his wife weakly, holding him. ‘Please, be quiet. They might go away.’

‘Mom?’ called Mink. ‘Dad?’ A pause. ‘Where are you?’

Heavy footsteps, heavy, heavy, very heavy footsteps, came up the stairs. Mink leading them. ‘Mom?’ A hesitation. ‘Dad?’ A waiting, a silence.

Humming. Footsteps toward the attic. Mink’s first.

They trembled together in silence in the attic, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. For some reason the electric humming, the queer cold light suddenly visible under the door crack, the strange odor and the alien sound of eagerness in Mink’s voice finally got through to Henry Morris too. He stood, shivering, in the dark silence, his wife beside him.

‘Mom! Dad!’

Footsteps. A little humming sound. The attic-lock melted. The door opened. Mink peered inside, tall blue shadows behind her.

‘Peekaboo,’ said Mink.

The End.

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The Long Way Home (full text) by Fred Saberhagen

This is the kind of short science fiction story that I enjoyed reading as a young teenager. A spaceship is out, far out, in deep space. As it crosses the deep depths it discovers a mystery... one that needs investigation. So they check it out, and an adventure ensues...

The Long Way Home

When Marty first saw the thing it was nearly dead ahead, half a million miles away, a tiny green blip that repeated itself every five seconds on the screen of his distant-search radar.

He was four billion miles from Sol and heading out, working his way slowly through a small swarm of rock chunks that swung in a slow sun-orbit out here beyond Pluto, looking for valuable minerals in concentration that would make mining profitable.

The thing on his radar screen looked quite small, and therefore not too promising. But, as it was almost in his path, no great effort would be required to investigate. For all he knew, it might be solid germanium. And nothing better was in sight at the moment. Marty leaned back in the control seat and said: “We’ve got one coming up, baby.” He had no need to address himself any more exactly. Only one other human was aboard the Clementine, or, to his knowledge, within a couple of billion miles.

Laura’s voice answered through a speaker, from the kitchen two decks below. “Oh, close? Have we got time for breakfast?”

Marty studied the radar. “About five hours if we maintain speed. Hope it won’t be a waste of energy to decelerate and look the thing over.” He gave Clem’s main computer the problem of finding the most economical engine use to approach his find and reach zero velocity relative to it.

“Come and eat!”

“All right.” He and the computer studied the blip together for a few seconds. Then the man, not considering it anything of unusual importance, left the control room to have breakfast with his bride of three months. As he walked downstairs in the steadilymaintained artificial gravity, he heard the engines starting.

Ten hours later he examined his new find much more closely, with a rapidly focusing alertness that balanced between an explorer’s caution and a prospector’s elation at a possibly huge strike. The incredible shape of X, becoming apparent as the Clem drew within a few hundred miles, was what had Marty on the edge of his chair. It was a needle thirty miles long, as near as his radar could measure and about a hundred yards thick—dimensions that matched exactly nothing Marty could expect to find anywhere in space.

It was obviously no random chunk of rock. And it was no spaceship that he had ever seen or heard of. One end of it pointed in the direction of Sol, causing him to suggest to Laura the idea of a miniature comet, complete with tail. She took him seriously at first, then remembered some facts about comets and swatted him playfully. “Oh, you!” she said.

Another, more real possibility quickly became obvious, with sobering effect. The ancient fear of aliens that had haunted Earthmen through almost three thousand years of intermittent space exploration, a fear that had never been realized, now peered into the snug control room through the green radar eye.

Aliens were always good for a joke when spacemen met and talked. But they turned out to be not particularly amusing when you were possibly confronting them, several billion miles from Earth. Especially, thought Marty, in a ship built for robot mining, ore refining, and hauling, not for diplomatic contacts or heroics—and with the only human assistance a girl on her first space trip. Marty hardly felt up to speaking for the human race in such a situation.

It took a minute to set the autopilot so that any sudden move by X would trigger alarms and such evasive tactics as Clem could manage. He then set a robot librarian to searching his microfilm files for any reference to a spaceship having X’s incredible dimensions.

There was a chance—how good a chance, he found hard to estimate, when any explanation looked somewhat wild—that X was a derelict, the wrecked hull of some ship dead for a decade, or a century, or a thousand years. By laws of salvage, such a find would belong to him if he towed it into port. The value might be very high or very low. But the prospect was certainly intriguing.

Marty brought Clem to a stop relative to X, and noticed that his velocity to Sol now also hung at zero. “I wonder,” he muttered,

“Space anchor . . . ?”

The space anchor had been in use for thousands of years. It was a device that enabled a ship to fasten itself to a particular point in the gravitational field of a massive body such as a sun. If X was anchored, it did not prove that there was still life aboard her; once “dropped,” an anchor could hold as long as a hull could last. Laura brought sandwiches and a hot drink to him in the control room.

“If we call the navy and they bring it in we won’t get anything out of it,” he told her between bites. “That’s assuming it’s—not alien.”

“Could there be someone alive on it?” She was staring into the screen. Her face was solemn, but, he thought, not frightened.

“If it’s human, you mean? No. I know there hasn’t been any ship remotely like that used in recent years. Way, way back the Old Empire built some that were even bigger, but none I ever heard of with this crazy shape . . . “

The robot librarian indicated that it had drawn a blank. “See?” said Marty. “And I’ve even got most of the ancient types in there.” There was silence for a little while. The evening’s recorded music started somewhere in the background.

“What would you do if I weren’t along?” Laura asked him.

He did not answer directly, but said something he had been considering. “I don’t know the psychology of our hypothetical aliens. But it seems to me that if you set out exploring new solar systems, you do as Earthmen have always done—go with the best you have in the way of speed and weapons. Therefore if X is alien, I don’t think Clem would stand a chance trying to fight or run.” He paused, frowning at the image of X. “That damned shape—it’s just not right for anything.”

“We could call the navy—not that I’m saying we should, darling,” she added hastily. “You decide, and I’ll never complain either way. I’m just trying to help you think it out.”

He looked at her, believed it about there never being any complaints, and squeezed her hand. Anything more seemed superfluous.

“If I was alone,” he said, “I’d jump into a suit, go look that thing over, haul it back to Ganymede, and sell it for a unique whateverit-is. Maybe I’d make enough money to marry you in real style, and trade in Clem for a first-rate ship—or maybe even terraform an asteroid and keep a couple of robot prospectors. I don’t know, though. Maybe we’d better call the navy.”

She laughed at him gently. “We’re married enough already, and we had all the style I wanted. Besides, I don’t think either of us would be very happy sitting on an asteroid. How long do you think it will take you to look it over?”

At the airlock door she had misgivings: “Oh, it is safe enough, isn’t it? Marty, be careful and come back soon.” She kissed him before he closed his helmet.

They had moved Clem to within a few kilometers of X. Marty mounted his spacebike and approached it slowly, from the side. The vast length of X blotted out a thin strip of stars to his right and left, as it it were the distant shore of some vast island in a placid Terran sea, and the starclouds below him were the watery reflections of the ones above. But space was too black to permit such an illusion to endure.

The tiny FM radar on his bike showed him within three hundred yards of X. He killed his forward speed with a gentle application of retrojets and turned on a spotlight. Bright metal gleamed smoothly back at him as he swung the beam from side to side. Then he stopped it where a dark concavity showed up.

“Lifeboat berth . . . empty,” he said aloud, looking through the bike’s little telescope.

“Then it is a derelict? We’re all right?” asked Laura’s voice in his helmet.

“Looks that way. Yeah, I guess there’s no doubt of it. I’ll go in for a closer look now.” He eased the bike forward. X was evidently just some rare type of ship that neither he nor the compilers of the standard reference works in his library had ever heard of. Which sounded a little foolish to him, but . . .

At ten meters’ distance he killed speed again, set the bike on automatic stay-clear, made sure a line from it was fast to his belt, and launched himself out of the saddle gently, headfirst, toward X.

The armored hands of his suit touched down first, easily and expertly. In a moment he was standing upright on the hull, held in place by magnetic boots. He looked around. He detected no response to his arrival.

Marty turned toward Sol, sighting down the kilometers of dark cylinder that seemed to dwindle to a point in the starry distance, like a road on which a man might travel home toward a tiny sun. Near at hand the hull was smooth, looking like that of any ordinary spaceship. In the direction away from Sol, quite distant, he could vaguely see some sort of projections at right angles to the hull. He mounted his bike again and set off in that direction. When he neared the nearest projection, a kilometer and a half down the hull, he saw it to be a sort of enormous clamp that encircled X—or rather, part of a clamp. It ended a few meters from the hull, in rounded globs of metal that had once been molten but were now too cold to affect the thermometer Marty held against them. His radiation counter showed nothing above the normal background.

“Ah,” said Marty after a moment, looking at the half-clamp.

“Something?”

“I think I’ve got it figured out. Not quite as weird as we thought. Let me check for one thing more.” He steered the bike slowly around the circumference of X.

A third of the way around he came upon what looked like a shallow trench, about five feet wide and a foot deep, with a bottom that shone cloudy gray in his lights. It ran lengthwise on X as far as he could see in either direction.

A door-sized opening was cut in the clamp above the trench. Marty nodded and smiled to himself, and gunned the bike around in an accelerating curve that aimed at the Clementine.

“It’s not a spaceship at all, only a part of one,” he told Laura a little later, digging in the microfilm file with his own hands, with the air of a man who knew what he was looking for. “That’s why the librarian didn’t turn it up. Now I remember reading about them. It’s part of an Old Empire job of about two thousand years ago. They used a somewhat different drive than we do, one that made one enormous ship more economical to run than several normal-sized ones. They made these ships ready for a voyage by fastening together long narrow sections side by side, the number depending on how much cargo they had to move. What we’ve found is obviously one of those sections.”

Laura wrinkled her forehead. “It must have been a terrible job, putting those sections together and separating them, even in free space.”

“They used space anchors. That trench I mentioned? It has a forcefield bottom. so an anchor could be sunk through it. Then the whole section could be slid straight forward or back, in or out of the bunch . . . here, I’ve got it, I think. Put this strip in the viewer.”

One picture, a photograph, showed what appeared to be one end of a bunch of long needles, in a glaring light, against a background of stars that looked unreal. The legend beneath gave a scanty description of the ship in flowing Old Empire script. Other pictures showed sections of the ship in some detail.

“This must be it, all right,” said Marty thoughtfully. “Funny looking old tub.”

“I wonder what happened to wreck her.”

“Drives sometimes exploded in those days, and that could have done it. And this one section got anchored to Sol somehow—it’s funny.”

“How long ago did it happen, do you suppose?” asked Laura. She had her arms folded as if she were a little cold, though it was not cold in the Clementine.

“Must be around two thousand years or more. These ships haven’t been used for about that long.” He picked up a stylus. “I better go over there with a big bag of tools tomorrow and take a look inside.” He wrote down a few things he thought he might need.

“Historians would probably pay a good price for the whole thing, untouched,” she suggested, watching him draw doodles.

“That’s a thought. But maybe there’s something really valuable aboard—though I won’t be able to give it anything like a thorough search, of course. The thing is anchored, remember. I’ll probably have to break in, anyway, to release that.”

She pointed to one of the diagrams. “Look, a section thirty miles long must be one of the passenger compartments. And according to this plan, it would have no drive at all of its own. We’ll have to tow it.”

He looked. “Right. Anyway, I don’t think I’d care to try its drive if it had one.”

He located airlocks on the plan and made himself generally familiar with it.

The next “morning” found Marty loading extra tools, gadgets, and explosives on his bike. The trip to X (he still thought of it that way) was uneventful. This time he landed about a third of the way from one end, where he expected to find a handy airlock and have a choice of directions to explore when he got inside. He hoped to get the airlock open without letting out whatever atmosphere or gas was present in any of the main compartments, as a sudden drop in pressure might damage something in the unknown cargo. He found a likely looking spot for entry where the plans had told him to expect one. It was a small auxiliary airlock, only a few feet from the space-anchor channel. The forcefield bottom of that channel was, he knew, useless as a possible doorway. Though anchors could be raised and lowered through it, they remained partly imbedded in it at all times. Starting a new hole from scratch would cause the decompression he was trying to avoid, and possibly a dangerous explosion as well.

Marty began his attack on the airlock door cautiously, working with electronic “sounding” gear for a few minutes, trying to tell if the inner door was closed as well. He had about decided that it was when something made him look up. He raised his head and sighted down the dark length of X toward Sol.

Something was moving toward him along the hull.

He was up in the bike saddle with his hand on a blaster before he realized what it was—that moving blur that distorted the stars seen through it, like heat waves in air. Without doubt, it was a space anchor, moving along the channel.

Marty rode the bike out a few yards and nudged it along slowly, following the anchor. It moved at about the pace of a fast walk. Moved . . . but it was sunk into space.

“Laura,” he called. “Something odd here. Doppler this hull for me and see if it’s moving.”

Laura acknowledged in one businesslike word. Good girl, he thought. I won’t have to worry about you. He coasted along the hull on the bike, staying even with the apparent movement of the anchor.

Laura’s voice came: “It is moving now, toward Sol. About 10 kilometers per hour. Maybe less—it’s so slow it’s hard to read.”

“Good, that’s what I thought.” He hoped he sounded reassuring. He pondered the situation. It was the hull moving then, the forcefield channel sliding by the fixed anchor. Whatever was causing it, it did not seem to be directed against him or the Clem. “Look, baby,” he went on. “Something peculiar is happening.” He explained about the anchor. “Clem may be no battleship, but I guess she’s a match for any piece of wreckage.”

“But you’re out there!”

“I have to see this. I never saw anything like it before. Don’t worry, I’ll pull back if it looks at all dangerous.” Something in the back of his mind told him to go back to his ship and call the navy. He ignored it without much trouble. He had never thought much of calling the navy.

About four hours later the incomprehensible anchor neared the end of its track, within thirty meters of what seemed to be X’s stern. It slowed down and came to a gradual stop a few meters from the end of the track. For a minute nothing else happened. Marty reported the facts to Laura. He sat straight in the bike saddle, regarding the universe, which offered him no enlightenment.

In the space between the anchor and the end of the track, a second patterned shimmer appeared. It must necessarily have been let “down” into space from inside X. Marty felt a creeping chill. After a little while the first anchor vanished, withdrawn through the forcefield into the hull.

Marty sat watching for twenty minutes, but nothing further happened. He realized that he had a crushing grip on the bike controls and that he was quivering with fatigue.

Laura and Marty took turns sleeping and watching, that night aboard the Clementine. About noon the next ship’s day Laura was at the telescope when anchor number one reappeared, now at the “prow” of X. After a few moments the one at the stem vanished. Marty looked at the communicator that he could use any time to call the navy. Faster-than-light travel not being practical so near a sun, it would take them at least several hours to arrive after he decided he needed them. Then he beat his fist against a table and swore. “It can only be that there’s some kind of mechanism in her still operating.” He went to the telescope and watched number one anchor begin its apparent slow journey sternward once more.

“I don’t know. I’ve got to settle this.”

The doppler showed X was again creeping toward Sol at about 10 kilometers an hour.

“Does it seem likely there’d be power left after two thousand years to operate such a mechanism?” Laura asked.

“I think so. Each passenger section had a hydrogen power lamp.” He dug out the microfilm again. “Yeah. a small fusion lamp for electricity to light and heat the section, and to run the emergency equipment for . . .” His voice trailed off, then continued in a dazed tone: “For recycling food and water.”

“Marty, what is it?”

He stood up, staring at the plan. “The only radios were in the lifeboats, and the lifeboats are gone. I wonder . . . sure. The explosion could have torn them apart, blown them away, so . . .”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked again at their communicator. “A transmitter that can get through the noise between here and Pluto wouldn’t be easy to jury-rig, even now. In the Old Empire days . . . “

What?”

“Now about air—” He seemed to wake up with a start, looked at her sheepishly. “Just an idea that hit me.” He grinned. “I’m making another trip.”

An hour later he was landing on X for the third time, touching down near the “stern.” He was riding the moving hull toward the anchor, but it was still many kilometers away.

The spot he had picked was near another small auxiliary airlock, upon which he began work immediately. After ascertaining that the inner door was closed, he drilled a hole in the outer door to relieve any pressure in the chamber to keep the outer door shut. The door opening mechanism suffered from twenty-century cramp, but a vibrator tool shook it loose enough to be operated by hand. The inside of the airlock looked like nothing more than the inside of an airlock.

He patched the hole he had made in the outer door so he would be able—he hoped—to open the inner one normally. He operated the outer door several times to make sure he could get out fast if he had to. After attaching a few extras from the bike to his suit, he said a quick and cheerful goodbye to Laura—not expecting his radio to work from inside the hull—and closed himself into the airlock. Using the vibrator again, he was able to work the control that should let whatever passed for hull atmosphere into the chamber. It came. His wrist gauge told him pressure was building up to approximately spaceship normal, and his suit mikes began to pick up a faint hollow humming from somewhere. He very definitely kept suit and helmet sealed.

The inner door worked perfectly, testifying to the skill of the Old Empire builders. Marty found himself nearly upside down as he went through, losing his footing and his sense of heroic adventure. In return he gained the knowledge that X’s artificial gravity was still at least partly operational. Righting himself, he found that he was in a small anteroom banked with spacesuit lockers, now illuminated only by his suit lights but showing no other signs of damage. There was a door in each of the other walls.

He moved to try the one at his right. First drawing his blaster, he hesitated a moment, then slid it back into its holster. Swallowing, he eased the door open to find only another empty compartment, about the size of an average room and stripped of everything down to the bare deck and bulkheads.

Another door led him into a narrow passage where a few overhead lights burned dimly. Trying to watch over his shoulder and ahead at the same time, he followed the hall to a winding stair and began to climb, moving with all the silence possible in a spacesuit. The stair brought him out onto a long gallery overlooking what could only be the main corridor of X, a passage twenty meters wide and three decks high; it narrowed away to a point in the dimlit distance.

A man came out of a doorway across the corridor, a deck below Marty.

He was an old man and may have been nearsighted, for he seemed unaware of the spacesuited figure gripping a railing and staring down at him. The old man wore a sort of tunic intricately embroidered with threads of different colors, and well tailored to his thin figure, leaving his legs and feet bare. He stood for a moment peering down the long corridor, while Marty stared, momentarily frozen in shock.

Marty pulled back two slow steps from the railing, to where he stood mostly in shadow. Turning his head to follow the old man’s gaze, he noticed that the forcefield where the anchors traveled was visible, running in a sunken strip down the center of the corridor. When the interstellar ship of which X was once a part had been in normal use, the strip might have been covered with a moving walkway of some kind.

The old man turned his attention to a tank where grew a mass of plants with flat, dark green leaves. He touched a leaf, then turned a valve that doled water into the tank from a thin pipe. Similar valves were clustered on the bulkhead behind the old man, and pipes ran from them to many other plant-filled tanks set at intervals down the corridor. “For oxygen,” Marty said aloud in an almost calm voice, and was startled at the sound in his helmet. His helmet airspeaker was not turned on, so of course the old man did not hear him. The old man pulled a red berry from one of the plants and ate it absently.

Marty made a move with his chin to turn on his speaker, but did not complete. He half lifted his arms to wave, but fear of the not-understood held him, made him back up slowly into the shadows at the rear of the gallery. Turning his head to the right he could see the near end of the corridor, and an anchor there, not sunken in space but raised almost out of the forcefield on a framework at the end of the strip.

Near the stair he had ascended was a half-open door, leading into darkness. Marty realized he had turned off his suit lights without consciously knowing of it. Moving carefully so the old man would not see, he lit one and probed the darkness beyond the door cautiously. The room he entered was the first of a small suite that had once been a passenger cabin. The furniture was simple, but it was the first of any kind that he had seen aboard X. Garments hanging in one corner were similar to the old man’s tunic, though no two were exactly alike in design. Marty fingered the fabric with one armored hand, holding it close to his faceplate. He nodded to himself; it seemed to be the kind of stuff produced by fiberrecycling machinery, and he doubted very much that it was anywhere near two thousand years old.

Marty emerged from the doorway of the little apartment, and stood in shadow with his suit lights out, looking around. The old man had disappeared. He remembered that the old man had gazed down the infinite-looking corridor as if expecting something. There was nothing new in sight that way. He turned up the gain of one of his suit mikes and focused it in that direction.

Many human voices were singing, somewhere down there, miles away. He started, and tried to interpret what he heard in some other way, but with an eerie thrill, he became convinced that his first impression was correct. While he studied a plan of going back to his bike and heading in that direction, he became aware that the singing was getting louder—and therefore, no doubt closer.

He leaned back against the bulkhead in the shadow at the rear of the gallery. His suit, dark-colored for space work far from Sol, would be practically invisible from the lighted corridor below, while he could see down with little difficulty. Part of his mind urged him to go back to Laura, to call the navy, because these unknown people could be dangerous to him. But he had to wait and see more of them. He grinned wryly as he realized that he was not going to get any salvage out of X after all.

Sweating in spite of his suit’s coolers, he listened to the singing grow rapidly louder in his helmet. Male and female voices rose and fell in an intricate melody, sometimes blending, sometimes chanting separate parts. The language was unknown to him. Suddenly the people were in sight, first only as a faint dot of color in the distance. As they drew nearer he could see that they walked in a long neat column eight abreast, four on each side of the central strip of forcefield. Men and women, apparently teamed according to no fixed rule of age or sex or size—except that he saw no oldsters or young children.

The people sang and leaned forward as they walked, pulling their weight on heavy ropes that were intricately decorated, like their clothing and that of the old man who had now stepped out of his doorway again to greet them. A few other oldsters of both sexes appeared near him to stand and wait. Through a briefly opened door Marty caught a glimpse of a well-lighted room holding machines he recognized as looms only because of the halffinished cloth they held. He shook his head wonderingly.

All at once the walkers were very near; hundreds of people pulling on ropes that led to a multiple whiffletree, made of twisted metal pipes, that rode over the central trench. The whiffletree and the space anchor to which it was fastened were pulled past Marty—or rather the spot from which he watched was carried past the fixed anchor by the slow, human-powered thrust of X toward Sol.

Behind the anchor came a small group of children, from about the age of ten up to puberty. They pulled on ropes, drawing a cart that held what looked like containers for food and water. At the extreme rear of the procession marched a man in the prime of life, tall and athletic, wearing a magnificent headdress.

About the time he drew even with Marty, this man stopped suddenly and uttered a sharp command. Instantly, the pulling and singing ceased. Several men nearest the whiffletree moved in and loosened it from the anchor with quick precision. Others held the slackened ropes clear as the enormous inertia of X’s mass carried the end of the forcefield strip toward the anchor, which now jammed against the framework holding anchor number two, forcing the framework back where there had seemed to be no room. A thick forcefield pad now became visible to Marty behind the framework, expanding steadily as it absorbed the energy of the powerful stress between ship and anchor. Conduits of some kind, Marty saw, led away from the pad, possibly to where energy might be stored for use when it came time to start X creeping toward the sun again. A woman in a headdress now mounted the framework and released anchor number two, to drop into space “below” the hull and bind X fast to the place where it was now held by anchor number one. A crew of men came forward and began to raise anchor number one . . .

He found himself descending the stair, retracing his steps to the airlock. Behind him the voices of the people were raised in a steady recitation that might have been a prayer. Feeling somewhat as if he moved in a dream, he made no particular attempt at caution, but he met no one. He tried to think, to understand what he had witnessed. Vaguely, comprehension came.

Outside, he said: “I’m out all right, Laura. I want to look at something at the other end, and then I’ll come home.” He scarcely heard what she said in reply, but realized that her answer had been almost instantaneous; she must have been listening steadily for his call all the time. He felt better.

The bike shot him 50 kilometers down the dreamlike length of X toward Sol in a few minutes. A lot faster than the people inside do their traveling, he thought . . . and Sol was dim ahead.

Almost recklessly he broke into X again, through an airlock near the prow. At this end of the forcefield strip hung a gigantic block and tackle that would give a vast mechanical advantage to a few hundred people pulling against an anchor, when it came time for them to start the massive hull moving toward Sol once more.

He looked in almost unnoticed at a nursery, small children in the care of a few women. He thought one of the babies saw him and laughed at him as he watched through a hole in a bulkhead where a conduit had once passed.

“What is it?” asked Laura impatiently as he stepped exhausted out of the shower room aboard the Clem, wrapping a robe around him. He could see his shock suddenly mirrored in her face.

“People,” he said, sitting down. “Alive over there. Earth people. Humans.”

“You’re all right?”

“Sure. It’s just—God!” He told her about it briefly. “They must be descended from the survivors of the accident, whatever it was. Physically, there’s no reason why they couldn’t live when you come to think of it—even reproduce, up to a limited number. Plants for oxygen—I bet their air’s as good as ours. Recycling equipment for food and water, and the hydrogen power lamp still working to run it, and to give them light and gravity . . . they have about everything they need. Everything but a space-drive.” He leaned back with a sigh and closed his eyes. It was hard for him to stop talking to her. She was silent for a little, trying to assimilate it all. “But if they have hydrogen power, couldn’t they have rigged something?” she finally asked. “Some kind of a drive, even if it was slow? Just one push and they’d keep moving.”

Marty thought it over. “Moving a little faster won’t help them.” He sat up and opened his eyes again. “And they’d have a lot less work to do every day. I imagine too large a dose of leisure time could be fatal to all of them.

“Somehow they had the will to keep going, and the intelligence to find a way—to evolve a system of life that worked for them, that kept them from going wild and killing each other. And their children, and their grandchildren, and after that . . . ” Slowly he stood up. She followed him into the control room, where they stood watching the image of X that was still focused on the telescope screen.

“All those years,” Laura whispered. “All that time.”

“Do you realize what they’re doing?” he asked softly. “They’re not just surviving, turned inward on weaving and designing and music.

“In a few hours they’re going to get up and start another day’s work. They’re going to pull anchor number one back to the front of their ship and lower it. That’s their morning job. Then someone left in the rear will raise anchor number two. Then the main group will start pulling against number one, as I saw them doing a little while ago, and their ship will begin to move toward Sol. Every day they go through this they move about fifty kilometers closer to home.

“Honey, these people are walking home and pulling their ship with them. It must be a religion with them by now, or something very near it . . . ” He put an arm around Laura.

“Marty—how long would it take them?”

“Space is big,” he said in a flat voice, as if quoting something he had been required to memorize.

After a few moments he continued. “I said just moving a little faster won’t help them. Let’s say they’ve traveled 50 kilometers a day for two thousand years. That’s somewhere near 36 million kilometers. Almost enough to get from Mars to Earth at their nearest approach. But they’ve got a long way to go to reach the neighborhood of Mars’ orbit. We’re well out beyond Pluto here. Practically speaking, they’re just about where they started from.” He smiled wanly. “Really, they’re not far from home, for an interstellar ship. They had their accident almost on the doorstep of their own solar system, and they’ve been walking toward the threshold ever since.”

Laura went to the communicator and began to set it up for the call that would bring the navy within a few hours. She paused.

“How long would it take them now,” she asked, “to get somewhere near Earth?”

“Hell would freeze over. But they can’t know that anymore. Or maybe they still know it and it just doesn’t bother them. They must just go on, tugging at that damned anchor day after day, year after year, with maybe a holiday now and then . . . I don’t know how they do it. They work and sing and feel they’re accomplishing something . . . and really, they are, you know. They have a goal and they are moving toward it. I wonder what they say of Earth, how they think about it?”

Slowly Laura continued to set up the communicator.

Marty watched her. “Are you sure?” he pleaded suddenly.

“What are we doing to them?”

But she had already sent the call.

For better or worse, the long voyage was almost over.

The End

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
R is for Rocket
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Correspondence Course
Link
Link
Link
Link
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The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Any Friend of Nicholas Nickleby’s Is a Friend of Mine
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt
The Star Mouse (Full Text)
Space Jockey (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
He who shrank (Full Text).
Blowups Happen by Robert Heinlein
Uncle Eniar by Ray Bradbury
The Cask of Amontillado
Successful Operation

Poetry

The poem titled “The Road Not Taken” (full text) by Robert Frost.
This is the full text of the most wonderful story titled “The Road Not Taken”.  "The Road Not Taken" is an ambiguous poem that allows the reader to think about choices in life, whether to go with the mainstream or go it alone. If life is a journey, this poem highlights those times in life when a decision has to be made. Among English speakers and especially in North America it is a comparatively famous poem. Its central theme is the divergence of paths, literal yet also clearly figurative, although its interpretation is noted for being complex and (like the road fork itself) potentially divergent.
The poem "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.  This is a poem that I memorized in First Grade. I hated the memorization of poems, and cried and protested, to no avail. Later, when I was much older, I began to appreciate this memorization. Not only did it give me an appreciation of English language, but also of art and beauty.

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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Blowups Happen (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

A mathematician discovers that his formulas predict that an important new power station poses an extremely grave risk to humanity, and he must convince others of the danger. 

- William E. Emba 
FOREWORD 

LIFE-LINE, MISFIT, LET THERE BE LIGHT, ELSEWHEN, PIED PIPER, IF THIS GOES ON—, REQUIEM, THE ROADS MUST ROLL, COVENTRY, BLOWUPS HAPPEN—for eleven months, mid March 1939 through mid February 1940, I wrote every day . . . and that ended my bondage; BLOWUPS HAPPEN paid off the last of that pesky mortgageeight years ahead of time.

BLOWUPS HAPPEN was the first of my stories to be published in hard covers, in Groff Conklin's first anthology, The Best of Science Fiction, 1946. In the meantime there had been World War II, Hiroshima, The Smyth Report—so I went over my 1940 manuscript most carefully, correcting some figures I had merely guessed at in early 1940.
 
This week I have compared the two versions, 1940 and 1946, word by wordthere isn't a dime's worth of difference between them . . . and I now see, as a result of the enormous increase in the art in 33 years, more errors in the '46 version than I spotted in the '40 version when I checked it in '46. 
 
I do not intend ever again to try to update a story to make it fit new art. Such updating can't save a poor story and isn't necessary for a good story. All of H. G. Wells' SF stories are hopelessly dated . . . and they remain the best, the most gripping science fiction stories to be found anywhere. My Beyond This Horizon (1941) states that H. sapiens has forty-eight chromosomes, a "factthat "everybody knewin 1941. Now "everybody knowsthat the "correctnumber is forty-six. I shan't change it. 
 
The version of "Blowups Happen" here following is exactly, word for word, the way it was first written in February 1940.  

BLOWUPS HAPPEN

“Put down that wrench!”

The man addressed turned slowly around and faced the speaker. His expression was hidden by a grotesque helmet, part of a heavy, leaden armor which shielded his entire body, but the tone of voice in which he answered showed nervous exasperation.

“What the hell’s eating on you, Doc?” He made no move to replace the tool in question.

They faced each other like two helmeted, arrayed fencers, watching for an opening. The first speaker’s voice came from behind his mask a shade higher in key and more peremptory in tone. “You heard me, Harper. Put down that wrench at once, and come away from that ‘trigger.’ Erickson!”

A third armored figure came around the shield which separated the uranium bomb proper from the control room in which the first two stood. “Whatcha want, Doc?”

“Harper is relieved from watch. You take over as engineer-of-the-watch. Send for the standby engineer.”

“Very well.” His voice and manner were phlegmatic as he accepted the situation without comment. The atomic engineer whom he had just relieved glanced from one to the other, then carefully replaced the wrench in its rack.

“Just as you say, Dr. Silard—but send for your relief, too. I shall demand an immediate hearing!” Harper swept indignantly out, his lead-sheathed boots clumping on the floor plates.

Dr. Silard waited unhappily for the ensuing twenty minutes until his own relief arrived. Perhaps he had been hasty. Maybe he was wrong in thinking that Harper had at last broken under the strain of tending the most dangerous machine in the world—an atomic power plant. But if he had made a mistake, it had to be on the safe side—slips must not happen in this business; not when a slip might result in the atomic detonation of two and a half tons of uranium.

He tried to visualize what that would mean, and failed. He had been told that uranium was potentially forty million times as explosive as TNT. The figure was meaningless that way. He thought of it, instead, as a hundred million tons of high explosive, two hundred million aircraft bombs as big as the biggest ever used. It still did not mean anything. He had once seen such a bomb dropped, when he had been serving as a temperament analyst for army aircraft pilots. The bomb had left a hole big enough to hide an apartment house. He could not imagine the explosion of a thousand such bombs, much less a hundred million of them.

Perhaps these atomic engineers could. Perhaps, with their greater mathematical ability and closer comprehension of what actually went on inside the nuclear fission chamber—the “bomb”—they had some vivid glimpse of the mind-shattering horror locked up beyond that shield. If so, no wonder they tended to blow up—

He sighed. Erickson looked up from the linear resonant accelerator on which he had been making some adjustment. “What’s the trouble, Doc?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry I had to relieve Harper.”

Silard could feel the shrewd glance of the big Scandinavian. “Not getting the jitters yourself, are you, Doc? Sometimes you squirrel sleuths blow up, too—”

“Me? I don’t think so. I’m scared of that thing in there—I’d be crazy if I weren’t.”

“So am I,” Erickson told him soberly, and went back to his work.* * *

The accelerator’s snout disappeared in the shield between them and the bomb, where it fed a steady stream of terrifically speeded up subatomic bullets to the beryllium target located within the bomb itself. The tortured beryllium yielded up neutrons, which shot out in all directions through the uranium mass. Some of these neutrons struck uranium atoms squarely on their nuclei and split them in two. The fragments were new elements, barium, xenon, rubidium—depending on the proportions in which each atom split. The new elements were usually unstable isotopes and broke down into a dozen more elements by radioactive disintegration in a progressive chain reaction.

But these chain reactions were comparatively unimportant; it was the original splitting of the uranium nucleus, with the release of the awe-inspiring energy that bound it together—an incredible two hundred million electron-volts—that was important—and perilous.

For, while uranium isotope 235 may be split by bombarding it with neutrons from an outside source, the splitting itself gives up more neutrons which, in turn, may land in other uranium nuclei and split them. If conditions are favorable to a progressively increasing reaction of this sort, it may get out of hand, build up in an unmeasurable fraction of a microsecond into a complete atomic explosion—an explosion which would dwarf the eruption of Krakatoa to popgun size; an explosion so far beyond all human experience as to be as completely incomprehensible as the idea of personal death. It could be feared, but not understood.

But a self-perpetuating sequence of nuclear splitting just under the level of complete explosion was necessary to the operation of the power plant. To split the first uranium nucleus by bombarding it with neutrons from the beryllium target took more power than the death of the atom gave up. In order that the output of power from the system should exceed the power input in useful proportion it was imperative that each atom split by a neutron from the beryllium target should cause the splitting of many more.

It was equally imperative that this chain of reactions should always tend to dampen, to die out. It must not build up, or the entire mass would explode within a time interval too short to be measured by any means whatsoever.

Nor would there be anyone left to measure it.* * *

The atomic engineer on duty at the bomb could control this reaction by means of the “trigger,” a term the engineers used to include the linear resonant accelerator, the beryllium target, and the adjacent controls, instrument board, and power sources. That is to say, he could vary the bombardment on the beryllium target to increase or decrease the power output of the plant, and he could tell from his instruments that the internal reaction was dampened—or, rather, that it had been dampened the split second before. He could not possibly know what was actually happening now within the bomb—subatomic speeds are too great and the time intervals too small. He was like the bird that flew backward; he could see where he had been, but he never knew where he was going.

Nevertheless, it was his responsibility, and his alone, not only to maintain the bomb at a high input-output efficiency, but to see that the reaction never passed the critical point and progressed into mass explosion.

But that was impossible. He could not be sure; he could never be sure.

He could bring to the job all of the skill and learning of the finest technical education, and use it to reduce the hazard to the lowest mathematical probability, but the blind laws of chance which appear to rule in subatomic action might turn up a royal flush against him and defeat his most skillful play.

And each atomic engineer knew it, knew that he gambled not only with his own life, but with the lives of countless others, perhaps with the lives of every human being on the planet. Nobody knew quite what such an explosion would do. The most conservative estimate assumed that, in addition to destroying the plant and its personnel completely, it would tear a chunk out of the populous and heavily traveled Los Angeles-Oklahoma Road City a hundred miles to the north.

That was the official, optimistic viewpoint on which the plant had been authorized, and based on mathematics which predicted that a mass of uranium would itself be disrupted on a molar scale, and thereby rendered comparatively harmless, before progressive and accelerated atomic explosion could infect the entire mass.

The atomic engineers, by and large, did not place faith in the official theory. They judged theoretical mathematical prediction for what it was worth—precisely nothing, until confirmed by experiment.

But even from the official viewpoint, each atomic engineer while on watch carried not only his own life in his hands, but the lives of many others—how many, it was better not to think about. No pilot, no general, no surgeon ever carried such a daily, inescapable, ever-present weight of responsibility for the lives of other people as these men carried every time they went on watch, every time they touched a vernier screw or read a dial.

They were selected not alone for their intelligence and technical training, but quite as much for their characters and sense of social responsibility. Sensitive men were needed—men who could fully appreciate the importance of the charge intrusted to them; no other sort would do. But the burden of responsibility was too great to be borne indefinitely by a sensitive man.

It was, of necessity, a psychologically unstable condition. Insanity was an occupational disease.* * *

Dr. Cummings appeared, still buckling the straps of the armor worn to guard against stray radiation. “What’s up?” he asked Silard.

“I had to relieve Harper.”

“So I guessed. I met him coming up. He was sore as hell—just glared at me.”

“I know. He wants an immediate hearing. That’s why I had to send for you.”

Cummings grunted, then nodded toward the engineer, anonymous in all-inclosing armor. “Who’d I draw?”

“Erickson.”

“Good enough. Squareheads can’t go crazy—eh, Gus?”

Erickson looked up momentarily and answered, “That’s your problem,” and returned to his work.

Cummings turned back to Silard and commented: “Psychiatrists don’t seem very popular around here. O.K.—I relieve you, sir.”

“Very well, sir.”

Silard threaded his way through the zigzag in the tanks of water which surrounded the disintegration room. Once outside this outer shield, he divested himself of the cumbersome armor, disposed of it in the locker room provided, and hurried to a lift. He left the lift at the tube station, underground, and looked around for an unoccupied capsule. Finding one, he strapped himself in, sealed the gasketed door, and settled the back of his head into the rest against the expected surge of acceleration.

Five minutes later he knocked at the door of the office of the general superintendent, twenty miles away.

The power plant proper was located in a bowl of desert hills on the Arizona plateau. Everything not necessary to the immediate operation of the plant—administrative offices, television station and so forth—lay beyond the hills. The buildings housing these auxiliary functions were of the most durable construction technical ingenuity could devise. It was hoped that, if Der Tag ever came, occupants would stand approximately the chance of survival of a man going over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

Silard knocked again. He was greeted by a male secretary. Steinke. Silard recalled reading his case history. Formerly one of the most brilliant of the young engineers, he had suffered a blanking out of the ability to handle mathematical operations. A plain case of fugue, but there had been nothing that the poor devil could do about it—he had been anxious enough with his conscious mind to stay on duty. He had been rehabilitated as an office worker.

Steinke ushered him into the superintendent’s private office. Harper was there before him, and returned his greeting with icy politeness. The superintendent was cordial, but Silard thought he looked tired, as if the twenty-four-hour-a-day strain was too much for him.

“Come in, Doctor, come in. Sit down. Now tell me about this. I’m a little surprised. I thought Harper was one of my steadiest men.”

“I don’t say he isn’t, sir.”

“Well?”

“He may be perfectly all right, but your instructions to me are not to take any chances.”

“Quite right.” The superintendent gave the engineer, silent and tense in his chair, a troubled glance, then returned his attention to Silard. “Suppose you tell me about it.”

Silard took a deep breath. “While on watch as psychological observer at the control station I noticed that the engineer of the watch seemed preoccupied and less responsive to stimuli than usual. During my off-watch observation of this case, over a period of the past several days, I have suspected an increasing lack of attention. For example, while playing contract bridge, he now occasionally asks for a review of the bidding, which is contrary to his former behavior pattern.

“Other similar data are available. To cut it short, at 3:11 today, while on watch, I saw Harper, with no apparent reasonable purpose in mind, pick up a wrench used only for operating the valves of the water shield and approach the trigger. Irelieved him of duty and sent him out of the control room.”

“Chief!” Harper calmed himself somewhat and continued: “If this witch doctor knew a wrench from an oscillator, he’d know what I was doing. The wrench was on the wrong rack. I noticed it, and picked it up to return it to its proper place. On the way, I stopped to check the readings!”

The superintendent turned inquiringly to Dr. Silard.

“That may be true. Granting that it is true,” answered the psychiatrist doggedly, “my diagnosis still stands. Your behavior pattern has altered; your present actions are unpredictable, and I can’t approve you for responsible work without a complete checkup.”

General Superintendent King drummed on the desk top and sighed. Then he spoke slowly to Harper: “Cal, you’re a good boy, and, believe me, I know how you feel. But there is no way to avoid it—you’ve got to go up for the psychometricals, and accept whatever disposition the board makes of you.” He paused, but Harper maintained an expressionless silence. “Tell you what, son—why don’t you take a few days leave? Then, when you come back, you can go up before the board, or transfer to another department away from the bomb, whichever you prefer.” He looked to Silard for approval, and received a nod.

But Harper was not mollified. “No, chief,” he protested. “It won’t do. Can’t you see what’s wrong? It’s this constant supervision. Somebody always watching the back of your neck, expecting you to go crazy. A man can’t even shave in private. We’re jumpy about the most innocent acts, for fear some head doctor, half batty himself, will see it and decide it’s a sign we’re slipping. Good grief, what do you expect?” His outburst having run its course, he subsided into a flippant cynicism that did not quite jell. “O.K.—never mind the straitjacket; I’ll go quietly. You’re a good Joe in spite of it, chief,” he added, “and I’m glad to have worked under you. Good-bye.”

King kept the pain in his eyes out of his voice. “Wait a minute, Cal—you’re not through here. Let’s forget about the vacation. I’m transferring you to the radiation laboratory. You belong in research, anyhow; I’d never have spared you from it to stand watches if I hadn’t been short on Number One men.

“As for the constant psychological observation, I hate it as much as you do. I don’t suppose you know that they watch me about twice as hard as they watch you duty engineers.” Harper showed his surprise, but Silard nodded in sober confirmation. “But we have to have this supervision. Do you remember Manning? No, he was before your time. We didn’t have psychological observers then. Manning was able and brilliant. Furthermore, he was always cheerful; nothing seemed to bother him.

“I was glad to have him on the bomb, for he was always alert, and never seemed nervous about working with it—in fact, he grew more buoyant and cheerful the longer he stood control watches. I should have known that was a very bad sign, but I didn’t, and there was no observer to tell me so.

“His technician had to slug him one night. He found him dismounting the safety interlocks on the trigger. Poor old Manning never pulled out of it—he’s been violently insane ever since. After Manning cracked up we worked out the present system of two qualified engineers and an observer for every watch. It seemed the only thing to do.”

“I suppose so, chief,” Harper mused, his face no longer sullen, but still unhappy. “It’s a hell of a situation just the same.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” King rose and put out his hand. “Cal, unless you’re dead set on leaving us, I’ll expect to see you at the radiation laboratory tomorrow. Another thing—I don’t often recommend this, but it might do you good to get drunk tonight.”* * *

King had signed to Silard to remain after the young man left. Once the door was closed he turned back to the psychiatrist. “There goes another one—and one of the best. Doctor, what am I going to do?”

Silard pulled at his cheek. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The hell of it is, Harper’s absolutely right. It does increase the strain on them to know that they are being watched—and yet they have to be watched. Your psychiatric staff isn’t doing too well, either. It makes us nervous to be around the bomb—the more so because we don’t understand it. And it’s a strain on us to be hated and despised as we are. Scientific detachment is difficult under such conditions; I’m getting jumpy myself.”

King ceased pacing the floor and faced the doctor. “But there must be some solution—” he insisted.

Silard shook his head. “It’s beyond me, Superintendent. I see no solution from the standpoint of psychology.”

“No? Hm-m-m. Doctor, who is the top man in your field?”

“Eh?”

“Who is the recognized Number One man in handling this sort of thing?”

“Why, that’s hard to say. Naturally, there isn’t any one leading psychiatrist in the world; we specialize too much. I know what you mean, though. You don’t want the best industrial-temperament psychometrician; you want the best all-around man for psychoses nonlesional and situational. That would be Lentz.”

“Go on.”

“Well—he covers the whole field of environmental adjustment. He’s the man who correlated the theory of optimum tonicity with the relaxation technique that Korzybski had developed empirically. He actually worked under Korzybski himself, when he was a young student—it’s the only thing he’s vain about.”

“He did? Then he must be pretty old; Korzybski died in— What year did he die?”

“I started to say that you must know his work in symbology—theory of abstraction and calculus of statement, all that sort of thing—because of its applications to engineering and mathematical physics.”

That Lentz—yes, of course. But I had never thought of him as a psychiatrist.”

“No, you wouldn’t, in your field. Nevertheless, we are inclined to credit him with having done as much to check and reduce the pandemic neuroses of the Crazy Years as any other man, and more than any man left alive.”

“Where is he?”

“Why, Chicago, I suppose. At the Institute.”

“Get him here.”

“Eh?”

“Get him down here. Get on that visiphone and locate him. Then have Steinke call the port of Chicago, and hire a stratocar to stand by for him. I want to see him as soon as possible—before the day is out.” King sat up in his chair with the air of a man who is once more master of himself and the situation. His spirit knew that warming replenishment that comes only with reaching a decision. The harassed expression was gone.

Silard looked dumbfounded. “But, Superintendent,” he expostulated, “You can’t ring for Dr. Lentz as if he were a junior clerk. He’s . . . he’s Lentz.

“Certainly—that’s why I want him. But I’m not a neurotic clubwoman looking for sympathy, either. He’ll come. If necessary, turn on the heat from Washington. Have the White House call him. But get him here at once. Move!” King strode out of the office.* * *

When Erickson came off watch he inquired around and found that Harper had left for town. Accordingly, he dispensed with dinner at the base, shifted into “drinkin’ clothes,” and allowed himself to be dispatched via tube to Paradise.

Paradise, Arizona, was a hard little boom town, which owed its existence to the power plant. It was dedicated exclusively to the serious business of detaching the personnel of the plant from their inordinate salaries. In this worthy project they received much cooperation from the plant personnel themselves, each of whom was receiving from twice to ten times as much money each pay day as he had ever received in any other job, and none of whom was certain of living long enough to justify saving for old age. Besides, the company carried a sinking fund in Manhattan for their dependents; why be stingy?

It was said, with some truth, that any entertainment or luxury obtainable in New York City could be purchased in Paradise. The local chamber of commerce had appropriated the slogan of Reno, Nevada, “Biggest Little City in the World.” The Reno boosters retaliated by claiming that, while any town that close to the atomic power plant undeniably brought thoughts of death and the hereafter, Hell’s Gates would be a more appropriate name than Paradise.

Erickson started making the rounds. There were twenty-seven places licensed to sell liquor in the six blocks of the main street of Paradise. He expected to find Harper in one of them, and, knowing the man’s habits and tastes, he expected to find him in the first two or three he tried.

He was not mistaken. He found Harper sitting alone at a table in the rear of DeLancey’s Sans Souci Bar. DeLancey’s was a favorite of both of them. There was an old-fashioned comfort about its chrome-plated bar and red leather furniture that appealed to them more than did the spectacular fittings of the up-to-the-minute places. DeLancey was conservative; he stuck to indirect lighting and soft music; his hostesses were required to be fully clothed, even in the evening.

The fifth of Scotch in front of Harper was about two thirds full. Erickson shoved three fingers in front of Harper’s face and demanded, “Count!”

“Three,” announced Harper. “Sit down, Gus.”

“That’s correct,” Erickson agreed, sliding his big frame into a low-slung chair. “You’ll do—for now. What was the outcome?”

“Have a drink. Not,” he went on, “that this Scotch is any good. I think Lance has taken to watering it. I surrendered, horse and foot.”

“Lance wouldn’t do that—stick to that theory and you’ll sink in the sidewalk up to your knees. How come you capitulated? I thought you planned to beat ’em about the head and shoulders, at least.”

“I did,” mourned Harper, “but, cripes, Gus, the chief is right. If a brain mechanic says you’re punchy, he has got to back him up and take you off the bomb. The chief can’t afford to take a chance.”

“Yeah, the chief’s all right, but I can’t learn to love our dear psychiatrists. Tell you what—let’s find us one, and see if he can feel pain. I’ll hold him while you slug ‘im.”

“Oh, forget it, Gus. Have a drink.”

“A pious thought—but not Scotch. I’m going to have a martini; we ought to eat pretty soon.”

“I’ll have one, too.”

“Do you good.” Erickson lifted his blond head and bellowed, “Israfel!”

A large, black person appeared at his elbow. “Mistuh Erickson! Yes, suh!”

“Izzy, fetch two martinis. Make mine with Italian.” He turned back to Harper. “What are you going to do now, Cal?”

“Radiation laboratory.”

“Well, that’s not so bad. I’d like to have a go at the matter of rocket fuels myself. I’ve got some ideas.”

Harper looked mildly amused. “You mean atomic fuel for interplanetary flight? The problem’s pretty well exhausted. No, son, the stratosphere is the ceiling until we think up something better than rockets. Of course, you could mount the bomb in a ship, and figure out some jury rig to convert its radiant output into push, but where does that get you? One bomb, one ship—and twenty years of mining in Little America has only produced enough pitchblende to make one bomb. That’s disregarding the question of getting the company to lend you their one bomb for anything that doesn’t pay dividends.”

Erickson looked balky. “I don’t concede that you’ve covered all the alternatives. What have we got? The early rocket boys went right ahead trying to build better rockets, serene in the belief that, by the time they could build rockets good enough to fly to the Moon, a fuel would be perfected that would do the trick. And they did build ships that were good enough—you could take any ship that makes the antipodes run, and refit it for the Moon—if you had a fuel that was sufficiently concentrated to maintain the necessary push for the whole run. But they haven’t got it.

“And why not? Because we let ’em down, that’s why. Because they’re still depending on molecular energy, on chemical reactions, with atomic power sitting right here in our laps. It’s not their fault—old D. D. Harriman had Rockets Consolidated underwrite the whole first issue of Antarctic Pitchblende, and took a big slice of it himself, in the expectation that we would produce something usable in the way of a concentrated rocket fuel. Did we do it? Like hell! The company went hog-wild for immediate commercial exploitation, and there’s no fuel yet.”

“But you haven’t stated it properly,” Harper objected. “There are just two forms of atomic power available—radioactivity and atomic disintegration. The first is too slow; the energy is there, but you can’t wait years for it to come out—not in a rocketship. The second we can only manage in a large mass of uranium. There you are—stymied.”

Erickson’s Scandinavian stubbornness was just gathering for another try at the argument when the waiter arrived with the drinks. He set them down with a triumphant flourish. “There you are, suh!”

“Want to roll for them, Izzy?” Harper inquired.

“Don’ mind if I do.”

The Negro produced a leather dice cup, and Harper rolled. He selected his combinations with care and managed to get four aces and a jack in three rolls. Israfel took the cup. He rolled in the grand manner with a backward twist to his wrist. His score finished at five kings, and he courteously accepted the price of six drinks. Harper stirred the engraved cubes with his forefinger.

Izzy,” he asked, “are these the same dice I rolled with?”

“Why, Mistuh Harper!” The Negro’s expression was pained.

“Skip it,” Harper conceded. “I should know better than to gamble with you. I haven’t won a roll from you in six weeks. What did you start to say, Gus?”

“I was just going to say that there ought to be a better way to get energy out of—”

But they were joined again, this time by something very seductive in an evening gown that appeared to have been sprayed on her lush figure. She was young, perhaps nineteen or twenty. “You boys lonely?” she asked as she flowed into a chair.

“Nice of you to ask, but we’re not,” Erickson denied with patient politeness. He jerked a thumb at a solitary figure seated across the room. “Go talk to Hannigan; he’s not busy.”

She followed his gesture with her eyes, and answered with faint scorn: “Him? He’s no use. He’s been like that for three weeks—hasn’t spoken to a soul. If you ask me, I’d say that he was cracking up.”

“That so?” he observed noncommittally. “Here”—he fished out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her—”buy yourself a drink. Maybe we’ll look you up later.”

“Thanks, boys.” The money disappeared under her clothing, and she stood up. “Just ask for Edith.”

“Hannigan does look bad,” Harper considered, noting the brooding stare and apathetic attitude, “and he has been awfully standoffish lately, for him. Do you suppose we’re obliged to report him?”

“Don’t let it worry you,” advised Erickson. “There’s a spotter on the job now. Look.” Harper followed his companion’s eyes and recognized Dr. Mott of the psychological staff. He was leaning against the far end of the bar, and nursing a tall glass, which gave him protective coloration. But his stance was such that his field of vision included not only Hannigan, but Erickson and Harper as well.

“Yeah, and he’s studying us as well,” Harper added. “Damn it to hell, why does it make my back hair rise just to lay eyes on one of them?”

The question was rhetorical; Erickson ignored it. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, “and have dinner somewhere else.”

“O.K.”

DeLancey himself waited on them as they left. “Going so soon, gentlemen?” he asked, in a voice that implied that their departure would leave him no reason to stay open. “Beautiful lobster thermidor tonight. If you do not like it, you need not pay.” He smiled brightly.

“Not sea food, Lance,” Harper told him, “not tonight. Tell me—why do you stick around here when you know that the bomb is bound to get you in the long run? Aren’t you afraid of it?”

The tavernkeeper’s eyebrows shot up. “Afraid of the bomb? But it is my friend!”

“Makes you money, eh?”

“Oh, I do not mean that.” He leaned toward them confidentially. “Five years ago I come here to make some money quickly for my family before my cancer of the stomach, it kills me. At the clinic, with the wonderful new radiants you gentlemen make with the aid of the bomb, I am cured—I live again. No, I am not afraid of the bomb, it is my good friend.”

“Suppose it blows up?”

“When the good Lord needs me, He will take me.” He crossed himself quickly.

As they turned away, Erickson commented in a low voice to Harper, “There’s your answer, Cal—if all us engineers had his faith, the bomb wouldn’t get us down.”

Harper was unconvinced. “I don’t know,” he mused. “I don’t think it’s faith; I think it’s lack of imagination—and knowledge.”* * *

Notwithstanding King’s confidence, Lentz did not show up until the next day. The superintendent was subconsciously a little surprised at his visitor’s appearance. He had pictured a master psychologist as wearing flowing hair, an imperial, and having piercing black eyes. But this man was not very tall, was heavy in his framework, and fat—almost gross. He might have been a butcher. Little, piggy, faded-blue eyes peered merrily out from beneath shaggy blond brows. There was no hair anywhere else on the enormous skull, and the apelike jaw was smooth and pink. He was dressed in mussed pajamas of unbleached linen. A long cigarette holder jutted permanently from one corner of a wide mouth, widened still more by a smile with suggested unmalicious amusement at the worst that life, or men, could do. He had gusto.

King found him remarkably easy to talk to.

At Lentz’s suggestion the superintendent went first into the history of the atomic power plant, how the fission of the uranium atom by Dr. Otto Hahn in December, 1938, had opened up the way to atomic power. The door was opened just a crack; the process to be self-perpetuating and commercially usable required an enormously greater mass of uranium than there was available in the entire civilized world at that time.

But the discovery, fifteen years later, of enormous deposits of pitchblende in the old rock underlying Little America removed that obstacle. The deposits were similar to those previously worked at Great Bear Lake in the arctic north of Canada, but so much more extensive that the eventual possibility of accumulating enough uranium to build an atomic power plant became evident.

The demand for commercially usable, cheap power had never been satiated. Even the Douglas-Martin sunpower screens, used to drive the roaring road cities of the period and for a myriad other industrial purposes, were not sufficient to fill the ever-growing demand. They had saved the country from impending famine of oil and coal, but their maximum output of approximately one horsepower per square yard of sun-illuminated surface put a definite limit to the power from that source available in any given geographical area.

Atomic power was needed—was demanded.

But theoretical atomic physics predicted that a uranium mass sufficiently large to assist in its own disintegration might assist too well—blow up instantaneously, with such force that it would probably wreck every man-made structure on the globe and conceivably destroy the entire human race as well. They dared not build the bomb, even though the uranium was available.

“It was Destry’s mechanics of infinitesimals that showed a way out of the dilemma,” King went on. “His equations appeared to predict that an atomic explosion, once started, would disrupt the molar mass inclosing it so rapidly that neutron loss through the outer surface of the fragments would dampen the progression of the atomic explosion to zero before complete explosion could be reached.

“For the mass we use in the bomb, his equations predict a possible force of explosion one seventh of one percent of the force of complete explosion. That alone, of course, would be incomprehensibly destructive—about the equivalent of a hundred and forty thousand tons of TNT—enough to wreck this end of the State. Personally, I’ve never been sure that is all that would happen.”

“Then why did you accept this job?” inquired Lentz.

King fiddled with items on his desk before replying. “I couldn’t turn it down, Doctor—I couldn’t. If I had refused, they would have gotten someone else—and it was an opportunity that comes to a physicist once in history.”

Lentz nodded. “And probably they would have gotten someone not as competent. I understand, Dr. King—you were compelled by the ‘truth-tropism’ of the scientist. He must go where the data is to be found, even if it kills him. But about this fellow Destry, I’ve never liked his mathematics; he postulates too much.”

King looked up in quick surprise, then recalled that this was the man who had refined and given rigor to the calculus of statement. “That’s just the hitch,” he agreed. “His work is brilliant, but I’ve never been sure that his predictions were worth the paper they were written on. Nor, apparently,” he added bitterly, “do my junior engineers.”

He told the psychiatrist of the difficulties they had had with personnel, of how the most carefully selected men would, sooner or later, crack under the strain. “At first I thought it might be some degenerating effect from the hard radiation that leaks out of the bomb, so we improved the screening and the personal armor. But it didn’t help. One young fellow who had joined us after the new screening was installed became violent at dinner one night, and insisted that a pork chop was about to explode. I hate to think of what might have happened if he had been on duty at the bomb when he blew up.”

The inauguration of the system of constant psychological observation had greatly reduced the probability of acute danger resulting from a watch engineer cracking up, but King was forced to admit that the system was not a success; there had actually been a marked increase in psychoneuroses, dating from that time.

“And that’s the picture, Dr. Lentz. It gets worse all the time. It’s getting me now. The strain is telling on me; I can’t sleep, and I don’t think my judgment is as good as it used to be—I have trouble making up my mind, of coming to a decision. Do you think you can do anything for us?”

But Lentz had no immediate relief for his anxiety. “Not so fast, superintendent,” he countered. “You have given me the background, but I have no real data as yet. I must look around for a while, smell out the situation for myself, talk to your engineers, perhaps have a few drinks with them, and get acquainted. That is possible, is it not? Then in a few days, maybe, we’ll know where we stand.”

King had no alternative but to agree.

“And it is well that your young men do not know what I am here for. Suppose I am your old friend, a visiting physicist, eh?”

“Why, yes—of course. I can see to it that the idea gets around. But say—” King was reminded again of something that had bothered him from the time Silard had first suggested Lentz’s name—”may I ask a personal question?”

The merry eyes were undisturbed.

“Go ahead.”

“I can’t help but be surprised that one man should attain eminence in two such widely differing fields as psychology and mathematics. And right now I’m perfectly convinced of your ability to pass yourself off as a physicist. I don’t understand it.”

The smile was more amused, without being in the least patronizing, nor offensive. “Same subject, symbology. You are a specialist; it would not necessarily come to your attention.”

“I still don’t follow you.”

“No? Man lives in a world of ideas. Any phenomenon is so complex that he cannot possibly grasp the whole of it. He abstracts certain characteristics of a given phenomenon as an idea, then represents that idea as a symbol, be it a word or a mathematical sign. Human reaction is almost entirely reaction to symbols, and only negligibly to phenomena. As a matter of fact,” he continued, removing the cigarette holder from his mouth and settling into his subject, “it can be demonstrated that the human mind can think only in terms of symbols.

“When we think, we let symbols operate on other symbols in certain, set fashions—rules of logic, or rules of mathematics. If the symbols have been abstracted so that they are structurally similar to the phenomena they stand for, and if the symbol operations are similar in structure and order to the operations of phenomena in the real world, we think sanely. If our logic-mathematics, or our word-symbols, have been poorly chosen, we do not think sanely.

“In mathematical physics you are concerned with making your symbology fit physical phenomena. In psychiatry I am concerned with precisely the same thing, except that I am more immediately concerned with the man who does the thinking than with the phenomena he is thinking about. But the same subject, always the same subject.”

“We’re not getting anyplace, . . . Gus.” Harper put down his slide rule and frowned.

“Seems like it, Cal,” Erickson grudgingly admitted. “Damn it, though—there ought to be some reasonable way of tackling the problem. What do we need? Some form of concentrated, controllable power for rocket fuel. What have we got? Power galore in the bomb. There must be some way to bottle that power, and serve it out when we need it—and the answer is someplace in one of the radioactive series. I know it.” He stared glumly around the laboratory as if expecting to find the answer written somewhere on the lead-sheathed walls.

“Don’t be so down in the mouth about it. You’ve got me convinced there is an answer; let’s figure out how to find it. In the first place the three natural radioactive series are out, aren’t they?”

“Yes—at least we had agreed that all that ground had been fully covered before.”

“O.K.; we have to assume that previous investigators have done what their notes show they have done—otherwise we might as well not believe anything, and start checking on everybody from Archimedes to date. Maybe that is indicated, but Methuselah himself couldn’t carry out such an assignment. What have we got left?”

“Artificial radioactives.”

“All right. Let’s set up a list of them, both those that have been made up to now, and those that might possibly be made in the future. Call that our group—or rather, field, if you want to be pedantic about definitions. There are a limited number of operations that can be performed on each member of the group, and on the members taken in combination. Set it up.”

Erickson did so, using the curious curlicues of the calculus of statement. Harper nodded. “All right—expand it.”

Erickson looked up after a few moments, and asked, “Cal, have you any idea how many terms there are in the expansion?”

“No—hundreds, maybe thousands, I suppose.”

“You’re conservative. It reaches four figures without considering possible new radioactives. We couldn’t finish such a research in a century.” He chucked his pencil down and looked morose.

Cal Harper looked at him curiously, but with sympathy. “Gus,” he said gently, “the bomb isn’t getting you, too, is it?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I never saw you so willing to give up anything before. Naturally you and I will never finish any such job, but at the very worst we will have eliminated a lot of wrong answers for somebody else. Look at Edison—sixty years of experimenting, twenty hours a day, yet he never found out the one thing he was most interested in knowing. I guess if he could take it, we can.”

Erickson pulled out of his funk to some extent. “I suppose so,” he agreed. “Anyhow, maybe we could work out some techniques for carrying on a lot of experiments simultaneously.”

Harper slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the ol’ fight. Besides—we may not need to finish the research, or anything like it, to find a satisfactory fuel. The way I see it, there are probably a dozen, maybe a hundred, right answers. We may run across one of them any day. Anyhow, since you’re willing to give me a hand with it in your off-watch time, I’m game to peck away at it till hell freezes.”* * *

Lentz puttered around the plant and the administration center for several days, until he was known to everyone by sight. He made himself pleasant and asked questions. He was soon regarded as a harmless nuisance, to be tolerated because he was a friend of the superintendent. He even poked his nose into the commercial power end of the plant, and had the mercury-steam-turbogenerator sequence explained to him in detail. This alone would have been sufficient to disarm any suspicion that he might be a psychiatrist, for the staff psychiatrists paid no attention to the hard-bitten technicians of the power-conversion unit. There was no need to; mental instability on their part could not affect the bomb, nor were they subject to the man-killing strain of social responsibility. Theirs was simply a job personally dangerous, a type of strain strong men have been inured to since the jungle.

In due course he got around to the unit of the radiation laboratory set aside for Calvin Harper’s use. He rang the bell and waited. Harper answered the door, his antiradiation helmet shoved back from his face like a grotesque sunbonnet. “What is it?” he asked. “Oh—it’s you, Dr. Lentz. Did you want to see me?”

“Why, yes and no,” the older man answered. “I was just looking around the experimental station, and wondered what you do in here. Will I be in the way?”

“Not at all. Come in. Gus!”

Erickson got up from where he had been fussing over the power leads to their trigger—a modified cyclotron rather than a resonant accelerator. “Hello.”

“Gus, this is Dr. Lentz—Gus Erickson.”

“We’ve met,” said Erickson, pulling off his gauntlet to shake hands. He had had a couple of drinks with Lentz in town and considered him a “nice old duck.” “You’re just between shows, but stick around and we’ll start another run—not that there is much to see.”

While Erickson continued with the setup, Harper conducted Lentz around the laboratory, explaining the line of research they were conducting, as happy as a father showing off twins. The psychiatrist listened with one ear and made appropriate comments while he studied the young scientist for signs of the instability he had noted to be recorded against him.

“You see,” Harper explained, oblivious to the interest in himself, “we are testing radioactive materials to see if we can produce disintegration of the sort that takes place in the bomb, but in a minute, almost microscopic, mass. If we are successful, we can use the power of the bomb to make a safe, convenient, atomic fuel for rockets.” He went on to explain their schedule of experimentation.

“I see,” Lentz observed politely. “What metal are you examining now?”

Harper told him. “But it’s not a case of examining one element—we’ve finished Isotope II with negative results. Our schedule calls next for running the same test on Isotope V. Like this.” He hauled out a lead capsule, and showed the label to Lentz, who saw that it was, indeed, marked with the symbol of the fifth isotope. He hurried away to the shield around the target of the cyclotron, left open by Erickson. Lentz saw that he had opened the capsule, and was performing some operation on it in a gingerly manner, having first lowered his helmet. Then he closed and clamped the target shield.

“O.K., Gus?” he called out. “Ready to roll?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Erickson assured him, coming around them. They crowded behind a thick metal shield that cut them off from direct sight of the setup.

“Will I need to put on armor?” inquired Lentz.

“No,” Erickson reassured him, “we wear it because we are around the stuff day in and day out. You just stay behind the shield and you’ll be all right. It’s lead—backed up by eight inches of case-hardened armor plate.”

Erickson glanced at Harper, who nodded, and fixed his eyes on a panel of instruments mounted behind the shield. Lentz saw Erickson press a push button at the top of the board, then heard a series of relays click on the far side of the shield. There was a short moment of silence.

The floor slapped his feet like some incredible bastinado. The concussion that beat on his ears was so intense that it paralyzed the auditory nerve almost before it could be recorded as sound. The air-conducted concussion wave flailed every inch of his body with a single, stinging, numbing blow. As he picked himself up, he found he was trembling uncontrollably and realized, for the first time, that he was getting old.

Harper was seated on the floor and had commenced to bleed from the nose. Erickson had gotten up; his cheek was cut. He touched a hand to the wound, then stood there, regarding the blood on his fingers with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Are you hurt?” Lentz inquired inanely. “What happened?”

Harper cut in. “Gus, we’ve done it! We’ve done it! Isotope V’s turned the trick!”

Erickson looked still more bemused. “Five?” he said stupidly. “But that wasn’t Five; that was Isotope II. I put it in myself.”

You put it in? I put it in! It was Five, I tell you!”

They stood staring at each other, still confused by the explosion, and each a little annoyed at the bone-headed stupidity the other displayed in the face of the obvious. Lentz diffidently interceded.

“Wait a minute, boys,” he suggested. “Maybe there’s a reason—Gus, you placed a quantity of the second isotope in the receiver?”

“Why, yes, certainly. I wasn’t satisfied with the last run, and I wanted to check it.”

Lentz nodded. “It’s my fault, gentlemen,” he admitted ruefully. “I came in and disturbed your routine, and both of you charged the receiver. I know Harper did, for I saw him do it—with Isotope V. I’m sorry.”

Understanding broke over Harper’s face, and he slapped the older man on the shoulder. “Don’t be sorry,” he laughed; “you can come around to our lab and help us make mistakes any time you feel in the mood. Can’t he, Gus? This is the answer, Dr. Lentz; this is it!”

“But,” the psychiatrist pointed out, “you don’t know which isotope blew up.”

“Nor care,” Harper supplemented. “Maybe it was both, taken together. But we will know—this business is cracked now; we’ll soon have it open.” He gazed happily around at the wreckage.* * *

In spite of Superintendent King’s anxiety, Lentz refused to be hurried in passing judgment on the situation. Consequently, when he did present himself at King’s office, and announced that he was ready to report, King was pleasantly surprised as well as relieved. “Well, I’m delighted,” he said. “Sit down, Doctor, sit down. Have a cigar. What do we do about it?”

But Lentz stuck to his perennial cigarette and refused to be hurried. “I must have some information first. How important,” he demanded, “is the power from your plant?”

King understood the implication at once. “If you are thinking about shutting down the bomb for more than a limited period, it can’t be done.”

“Why not? If the figures supplied me are correct, your output is less than thirteen percent of the total power used in the country.”

“Yes, that is true, but you haven’t considered the items that go into making up the total. A lot of it is domestic power, which householders get from sunscreens located on their own roofs. Another big slice is power for the moving roadways—that’s sunpower again. The portion we provide here is the main power source for most of the heavy industries—steel, plastics, lithics, all kinds of manufacturing and processing. You might as well cut the heart out of a man—”

“But the food industry isn’t basically dependent on you?” Lentz persisted.

“No. Food isn’t basically a power industry—although we do supply a certain percentage of the power used in processing. I see your point, and will go on and concede that transportation—that is to say, distribution of food—could get along without us. But, good heavens, Doctor, you can’t stop atomic power without causing the biggest panic this country has ever seen. It’s the keystone of our whole industrial system.”

“The country has lived through panics before, and we got past the oil shortage safely.”

“Yes—because atomic power came along to take the place of oil. You don’t realize what this would mean, Doctor. It would be worse than a war; in a system like ours, one thing depends on another. If you cut off the heavy industries all at once, everything else stops, too.”

“Nevertheless, you had better dump the bomb.” The uranium in the bomb was molten, its temperature being greater than twenty-four hundred degrees centigrade. The bomb could be dumped into a group of small containers, when it was desired to shut it down. The mass in any one container was too small to maintain progressive atomic disintegration.

King glanced involuntarily at the glass-inclosed relay mounted on his office wall, by which he, as well as the engineer on duty, could dump the bomb, if need be. “But I couldn’t do that—or rather, if I did, the plant wouldn’t stay shut down. The Directors would simply replace me with someone who would operate the bomb.”

“You’re right, of course.” Lentz silently considered the situation for some time, then said, “Superintendent, will you order a car to fly me back to Chicago?”

“You’re going, Doctor?”

“Yes.” He took the cigarette holder from his face, and, for once, the smile of Olympian detachment was gone completely. His entire manner was sober, even tragic. “Short of shutting down the bomb, there is no solution to your problem—none whatsoever!

“I owe you a full explanation.” Lentz continued, at length. “You are confronted here with recurring instances of situational psychoneurosis. Roughly, the symptoms manifest themselves as anxiety neurosis or some form of hysteria. The partial amnesia of your secretary, Steinke, is a good example of the latter. He might be cured with shock technique, but it would hardly be a kindness, as he has achieved a stable adjustment which puts him beyond the reach of the strain he could not stand.

“That other young fellow, Harper, whose blowup was the immediate cause of your sending for me, is an anxiety case. When the cause of the anxiety was eliminated from his matrix, he at once regained full sanity. But keep a close watch on his friend, Erickson—

“However, it is the cause, and prevention, of situational psychoneurosis we are concerned with here, rather than the forms in which it is manifested. In plain language, psychoneurosis situational simply refers to the common fact that, if you put a man in a situation that worries him more than he can stand, in time he blows up, one way or another.

“That is precisely the situation here. You take sensitive, intelligent young men, impress them with the fact that a single slip on their part, or even some fortuitous circumstance beyond their control, will result in the death of God knows how many other people, and then expect them to remain sane. It’s ridiculous—impossible!”

“But, good heavens, Doctor, there must be some answer! There must!” He got up and paced around the room. Lentz noted, with pity, that King himself was riding the ragged edge of the very condition they were discussing.

“No,” he said slowly. “No. Let me explain. You don’t dare intrust the bomb to less sensitive, less socially conscious men. You might as well turn the controls over to a mindless idiot. And to psychoneurosis situational there are but two cures. The first obtains when the psychosis results from a misevaluation of environment. That cure calls for semantic readjustment. One assists the patient to evaluate correctly his environment. The worry disappears because there never was a real reason for worry in the situation itself, but simply in the wrong meaning the patient’s mind had assigned to it.

“The second case is when the patient has correctly evaluated the situation, and rightly finds in it cause for extreme worry. His worry is perfectly sane and proper, but he cannot stand up under it indefinitely; it drives him crazy. The only possible cure is to change the situation. I have stayed here long enough to assure myself that such is the condition here. Your engineers have correctly evaluated the public danger of this bomb, and it will, with dreadful certainty, drive all of you crazy!

“The only possible solution is to dump the bomb—and leave it dumped.”

King had continued his nervous pacing of the floor, as if the walls of the room itself were the cage of his dilemma. Now he stopped and appealed once more to the psychiatrist. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“Nothing to cure. To alleviate—well, possibly.”

“How?”

“Situational psychosis results from adrenaline exhaustion. When a man is placed under a nervous strain, his adrenal glands increase their secretion to help compensate for the strain. If the strain is too great and lasts too long, the adrenals aren’t equal to the task, and he cracks. That is what you have here. Adrenaline therapy might stave off a mental breakdown, but it most assuredly would hasten a physical breakdown. But that would be safer from a viewpoint of public welfare—even though it assumes that physicists are expendable!

“Another thing occurs to me: If you selected any new watch engineers from the membership of churches that practice the confessional, it would increase the length of their usefulness.”

King was plainly surprised. “I don’t follow you.”

“The patient unloads most of his worry on his confessor, who is not himself actually confronted by the situation, and can stand it. That is simply an ameliorative, however. I am convinced that, in this situation, eventual insanity is inevitable. But there is a lot of good sense in the confessional,” he added. “It fills a basic human need. I think that is why the early psychoanalysts were so surprisingly successful, for all their limited knowledge.” He fell silent for a while, then added, “If you will be so kind as to order a stratocab for me—”

“You’ve nothing more to suggest?”

“No. You had better turn your psychological staff loose on means of alleviation; they’re able men, all of them.”

King pressed a switch and spoke briefly to Steinke. Turning back to Lentz, he said, “You’ll wait here until your car is ready?”

Lentz judged correctly that King desired it and agreed. Presently the tube delivery on King’s desk went ping! The Superintendent removed a small white pasteboard, a calling card. He studied it with surprise and passed it over to Lentz. “I can’t imagine why he should be calling on me,” he observed, and added, “Would you like to meet him?”

Lentz read:

THOMAS P. HARRINGTON
captain (mathematics)
united states navy

director
u.s. naval observatory

“But I do know him,” he said. “I’d be very pleased to see him.”

Harrington was a man with something on his mind. He seemed relieved when Steinke had finished ushering him in, and had returned to the outer office. He commenced to speak at once, turning to Lentz, who was nearer to him than King. “You’re King? . . . Why, Dr. Lentz! What are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” answered Lentz, accurately but incompletely, as he shook hands. “This is Superintendent King over here. Superintendent King—Captain Harrington.”

“How do you do, Captain—it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“It’s an honor to be here, sir.”

“Sit down?”

“Thanks.” He accepted a chair and laid a briefcase on a corner of King’s desk. “Superintendent, you are entitled to an explanation as to why I have broken in on you like this—”

“Glad to have you.” In fact, the routine of formal politeness was an anodyne to King’s frayed nerves.

“That’s kind of you, but— That secretary chap, the one that brought me in here, would it be too much to ask you to tell him to forget my name? I know it seems strange—”

“Not at all.” King was mystified, but willing to grant any reasonable request of a distinguished colleague in science. He summoned Steinke to the interoffice visiphone and gave him his orders.

Lentz stood up and indicated that he was about to leave. He caught Harrington’s eye. “I think you want a private palaver, Captain.”

King looked from Harrington to Lentz and back to Harrington. The astronomer showed momentary indecision, then protested: “I have no objection at all myself; it’s up to Dr. King. As a matter of fact,” he added, “it might be a very good thing if you did sit in on it.”

“I don’t know what it is, Captain,” observed King, “that you want to see me about, but Dr. Lentz is already here in a confidential capacity.”

“Good! Then that’s settled. I’ll get right down to business. Dr. King, you know Destry’s mechanics of infinitesimals?”

“Naturally.” Lentz cocked a brow at King, who chose to ignore it.

“Yes, of course. Do you remember theorem six and the transformation between equations thirteen and fourteen?”

“I think so, but I’d want to see them.” King got up and went over to a bookcase. Harrington stayed him with a hand.

“Don’t bother. I have them here.” He hauled out a key, unlocked his briefcase, and drew out a large, much-thumbed, loose-leaf notebook. “Here. You, too, Dr. Lentz. Are you familiar with this development?”

Lentz nodded. “I’ve had occasion to look into them.”

“Good—I think it’s agreed that the step between thirteen and fourteen is the key to the whole matter. Now, the change from thirteen to fourteen looks perfectly valid—and would be, in some fields. But suppose we expand it to show every possible phase of the matter, every link in the chain of reasoning.”

He turned a page and showed them the same two equations broken down into nine intermediate equations. He placed a finger under an associated group of mathematical symbols. “Do you see that? Do you see what that implies?” He peered anxiously at their faces.

King studied it, his lips moving. “Yes . . . I believe I do see. Odd . . . I never looked at it just that way before—yet I’ve studied those equations until I’ve dreamed about them.” He turned to Lentz. “Do you agree, Doctor?”

Lentz nodded slowly. “I believe so. . . . Yes, I think I may say so.”

Harrington should have been pleased; he wasn’t. “I had hoped you could tell me I was wrong,” he said, almost petulantly, “but I’m afraid there is no further doubt about it. Dr. Destry included an assumption valid in molar physics, but for which we have absolutely no assurance in atomic physics. I suppose you realize what this means to you, Dr. King?”

King’s voice was dry whisper. “Yes,” he said, “yes— It means that if that bomb out there ever blows up, we must assume that it will go up all at once, rather than the way Destry predicted—and God help the human race!”

Captain Harrington cleared his throat to break the silence that followed. “Superintendent,” he said, “I would not have ventured to call had it been simply a matter of disagreement as to interpretation of theoretical predictions—”

“You have something more to go on?”

“Yes and no. Probably you gentlemen think of the Naval Observatory as being exclusively preoccupied with ephemerides and tide tables. In a way you would be right—but we still have some time to devote to research as long as it doesn’t cut into the appropriation. My special interest has always been lunar theory.

“I don’t mean lunar ballistics,” he continued. “I mean the much more interesting problem of its origin and history, the problem the younger Darwin struggled with, as well as my illustrious predecessor, Captain T. J. J. See. I think that it is obvious that any theory of lunar origin and history must take into account the surface features of the Moon—especially the mountains, the craters, that mark its face so prominently.”

He paused momentarily, and Superintendent King put in: “Just a minute, Captain—I may be stupid, or perhaps I missed something, but—is there a connection between what we were discussing before and lunar theory?”

“Bear with me for a few moments, Dr. King,” Harrington apologized. “There is a connection—at least, I’m afraid there is a connection—but I would rather present my points in their proper order before making my conclusions.” They granted him an alert silence; he went on:

“Although we are in the habit of referring to the ‘craters’ of the Moon, we know they are not volcanic craters. Superficially, they follow none of the rules of terrestrial volcanoes in appearance or distribution, but when Rutter came out in 1952 with his monograph on the dynamics of vulcanology, he proved rather conclusively that the lunar craters could not be caused by anything that we know as volcanic action.

“That left the bombardment theory as the simplest hypothesis. It looks good, on the face of it, and a few minutes spent throwing pebbles into a patch of mud will convince anyone that the lunar craters could have been formed by falling meteors.

“But there are difficulties. If the Moon was struck so repeatedly, why not the Earth? It hardly seems necessary to mention that the Earth’s atmosphere would be no protection against masses big enough to form craters like Endymion or Plato. And if they fell after the Moon was a dead world while the Earth was still young enough to change its face and erase the marks of bombardment, why did the meteors avoid so nearly completely the great dry basins we call lunar seas?

“I want to cut this short; you’ll find the data and the mathematical investigations from the data here in my notes. There is one other major objection to the meteor-bombardment theory: the great rays that spread from Tycho across almost the entire surface of the Moon. It makes the Moon look like a crystal ball that had been struck with a hammer, and impact from outside seems evident, but there are difficulties. The striking mass, our hypothetical meteor, must be small enough to have formed the crater of Tycho, but it must have the mass and speed to crack an entire planet.

“Work it out for yourself—you must either postulate a chunk out of the core of a dwarf star, or speeds such as we have never observed within the system. It’s conceivable but a farfetched explanation.”

He turned to King. “Doctor, does anything occur to you that might account for a phenomenon like Tycho?”

The Superintendent grasped the arms of his chair, then glanced at his palms. He fumbled for a handkerchief, and wiped them. “Go ahead,” he said, almost inaudibly.

“Very well then.” Harrington drew out of his briefcase a large photograph of the Moon—a beautiful full-Moon portrait made at Lick. “I want you to imagine the Moon as she might have been sometime in the past. The dark areas we call the ‘seas’ are actual oceans. It has an atmosphere, perhaps a heavier gas than oxygen and nitrogen, but an active gas, capable of supporting some conceivable form of life.

“For this is an inhabited planet, inhabited by intelligent beings, beings capable of discovering atomic power and exploiting it!”

He pointed out on the photograph, near the southern limb, the lime-white circle of Tycho, with its shining, incredible, thousand-mile-long rays spreading, thrusting, jutting out from it. “Here . . . here at Tycho was located their main power plant.” He moved his fingers to a point near the equator and somewhat east of meridian—the point where three great dark areas merged, Mare Nubium, Mare Imbrium, Oceanus Procellarum—and picked out two bright splotches surrounded, also, by rays, but shorter, less distinct, and wavy. “And here at Copernicus and at Kepler, on islands at the middle of a great ocean, were secondary power stations.”

He paused, and interpolated soberly: “Perhaps they knew the danger they ran, but wanted power so badly that they were willing to gamble the life of their race. Perhaps they were ignorant of the ruinous possibilities of their little machines, or perhaps their mathematicians assured them that it could not happen.

“But we will never know—no one can ever know. For it blew up and killed them—and it killed their planet.

“It whisked off the gassy envelope and blew it into outer space. It blasted great chunks off the planet’s crust. Perhaps some of that escaped completely, too, but all that did not reach the speed of escape fell back down in time and splashed great ring-shaped craters in the land.

“The oceans cushioned the shock; only the more massive fragments formed craters through the water. Perhaps some life still remained in those ocean depths. If so, it was doomed to die—for the water, unprotected by atmospheric pressure, could not remain liquid and must inevitably escape in time to outer space. Its life-blood drained away. The planet was dead—dead by suicide!”

He met the grave eyes of his two silent listeners with an expression almost of appeal. “Gentlemen . . . this is only a theory, I realize . . . only a theory, a dream, a nightmare . . . but it has kept me awake so many nights that I had to come tell you about it, and see if you saw it the same way I do. As for the mechanics of it, it’s all in there in my notes. You can check it—and I pray that you find some error! But it is the only lunar theory I have examined which included all of the known data and accounted for all of them.”

He appeared to have finished. Lentz spoke up. “Suppose, Captain, suppose we check your mathematics and find no flaw—what then?”

Harrington flung out his hands. “That’s what I came here to find out!”

Although Lentz had asked the question, Harrington directed the appeal to King. The Superintendent looked up; his eyes met the astronomer’s, wavered and dropped again. “There’s nothing to be done,” he said dully, “nothing at all.”

Harrington stared at him in open amazement. “But good God, man!” he burst out. “Don’t you see it? That bomb has got to be disassembled—at once!”

“Take it easy, Captain.” Lentz’s calm voice was a spray of cold water. “And don’t be too harsh on poor King—this worries him even more than it does you. What he means is this: We’re not faced with a problem in physics, but with a political and economic situation. Let’s put it this way: King can no more dump the bomb than a peasant with a vineyard on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius can abandon his holdings and pauperize his family simply because there will be an eruption some day.

“King doesn’t own that bomb out there; he’s only the custodian. If he dumps it against the wishes of the legal owners, they’ll simply oust him and put in someone more amenable. No, we have to convince the owners.”

“The President could do it,” suggested Harrington. “I could get to the President—”

“No doubt you could, through the Navy Department. And you might even convince him. But could he help much?”

“Why, of course he could. He’s the President!”

“Wait a minute. You’re Director of the Naval Observatory; suppose you took a sledge hammer and tried to smash the big telescope—how far would you get?”

“Not very far,” Harrington conceded. “We guard the big fellow pretty closely.”

“Nor can the President act in an arbitrary manner,” Lentz persisted. “He’s not an unlimited monarch. If he shuts down this plant without due process of law, the Federal courts will tie him in knots. I admit that Congress isn’t helpless but—would you like to try to give a congressional committee a course in the mechanics of infinitesimals?”

Harrington readily stipulated the point. “But there is another way,” he pointed out. “Congress is responsive to public opinion. What we need to do is to convince the public that the bomb is a menace to everybody. That could be done without ever trying to explain things in terms of higher mathematics.”

“Certainly it could,” Lentz agreed. “You could go on the air with it and scare everybody half to death. You could create the damnedest panic this slightly slug-nutty country has ever seen. No, thank you. I, for one, would rather have us all take the chance of being quietly killed than bring on a mass psychosis that would destroy the culture we are building up. I think one taste of the Crazy Years is enough.”

“Well, then, what do you suggest?”

Lentz considered shortly, then answered: “All I see is a forlorn hope. We’ve got to work on the Board of Directors and try to beat some sense into their heads.”

King, who had been following the discussion with attention in spite of his tired despondence, interjected a remark: “How would you go about that?”

“I don’t know,” Lentz admitted. “It will take some thinking. But it seems the most fruitful line of approach. If it doesn’t work, we can always fall back on Harrington’s notion of publicity—I don’t insist that the world commit suicide to satisfy my criteria of evaluation.”

Harrington glanced at his wristwatch—a bulky affair—and whistled. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “I forgot the time! I’m supposed officially to be at the Flagstaff Observatory.”

King had automatically noted the time shown by the Captain’s watch as it was displayed. “But it can’t be that late,” he had objected. Harrington looked puzzled, then laughed.

“It isn’t—not by two hours. We are in zone plus-seven; this shows zone plus-five—it’s radio-synchronized with the master clock at Washington.”

“Did you say radio-synchronized?”

“Yes. Clever, isn’t it?” He held it out for inspection. “I call it a telechronometer; it’s the only one of its sort to date. My nephew designed it for me. He’s a bright one, that boy. He’ll go far. That is”—his face clouded, as if the little interlude had only served to emphasize the tragedy that hung over them—”if any of us live that long!”

A signal light glowed at King’s desk, and Steinke’s face showed on the communicator screen. King answered him, then said, “Your car is ready, Dr. Lentz.”

“Let Captain Harrington have it.”

“Then you’re not going back to Chicago?”

“No. The situation has changed. If you want me, I’m stringing along.”* * *

The following Friday, Steinke ushered Lentz into King’s office. King looked almost happy as he shook hands. “When did you ground, Doctor? I didn’t expect you back for another hour or so.”

“Just now. I hired a cab instead of waiting for the shuttle.”

“Any luck?”

“None. The same answer they gave you: ‘The Company is assured by independent experts that Destry’s mechanics is valid, and sees no reason to encourage an hysterical attitude among its employees.'”

King tapped on his desk top, his eyes unfocused. Then, hitching himself around to face Lentz directly, he said, “Do you suppose the Chairman is right?”

“How?”

“Could the three of us—you, me and Harrington—have gone off the deep end—slipped mentally?”

No.

“You’re sure?”

“Certainly. I looked up some independent experts of my own, not retained by the Company, and had them check Harrington’s work. It checks.” Lentz purposely neglected to mention that he had done so partly because he was none too sure of King’s present mental stability.

King sat up briskly, reached out and stabbed a push button. “I am going to make one more try,” he explained, “to see if I can’t throw a scare into Dixon’s thick head. Steinke,” he said to the communicator, “get me Mr. Dixon on the screen.”

“Yes, sir.”

In about two minutes the visiphone screen came to life and showed the features of Chairman Dixon. He was transmitting, not from his office, but from the board room of the Company in Jersey City. “Yes?” he said. “What is it, Superintendent?” His manner was somehow both querulous and affable.

“Mr. Dixon,” King began, “I’ve called to try to impress on you the seriousness of the Company’s action. I stake my scientific reputation that Harrington has proved completely that—”

“Oh, that? Mr. King, I thought you understood that that was a closed matter.”

“But, Mr. Dixon—”

“Superintendent, please! If there were any possible legitimate cause to fear, do you think I would hesitate? I have children, you know, and grandchildren.”

“That is just why—”

“We try to conduct the affairs of the company with reasonable wisdom and in the public interest. But we have other responsibilities, too. There are hundreds of thousands of little stockholders who expect us to show a reasonable return on their investment. You must not expect us to jettison a billion-dollar corporation just because you’ve taken up astrology! Moon theory!” He sniffed.

“Very well, Mr. Chairman.” King’s tone was stiff.

“Don’t take it that way, Mr. King. I’m glad you called—the Board has just adjourned a special meeting. They have decided to accept you for retirement—with full pay, of course.”

“I did not apply for retirement!”

“I know, Mr. King, but the Board feels that—”

“I understand. Good-by!”

“Mr. King—”

“Good-by!” He switched him off, and turned to Lentz. “‘—with full pay,'” he quoted, “which I can enjoy in any way that I like for the rest of my life—just as happy as a man in the death house!”

“Exactly,” Lentz agreed. “Well, we’ve tried our way. I suppose we should call up Harrington now and let him try the political and publicity method.”

“I suppose so,” King seconded absentmindedly. “Will you be leaving for Chicago now?”

“No,” said Lentz. “No . . . I think I will catch the shuttle for Los Angeles and take the evening rocket for the antipodes.”

King looked surprised, but said nothing. Lentz answered the unspoken comment. “Perhaps some of us on the other side of the Earth will survive. I’ve done all that I can here. I would rather be a live sheepherder in Australia than a dead psychiatrist in Chicago.”

King nodded vigorously, “That shows horse sense. For two cents, I’d dump the bomb now and go with you.”

“Not horse sense, my friend—a horse will run back into a burning barn, which is exactly not what I plan to do. Why don’t you do it and come along? If you did, it would help Harrington to scare ’em to death.”

“I believe I will!”

Steinke’s face appeared again on the screen. “Harper and Erickson are here, chief.”

“I’m busy.

“They are pretty urgent about seeing you.”

“Oh . . . all right,” King said in a tired voice. “Show them in. It doesn’t matter.”

They breezed in, Harper in the van. He commenced talking at once, oblivious to the Superintendent’s morose preoccupation. “We’ve got it, chief, we’ve got it—and it all checks out to the umpteenth decimal!”

“You’ve got what? Speak English.”

Harper grinned. He was enjoying his moment of triumph, and was stretching it out to savor it. “Chief, do you remember a few weeks back when I asked for an additional allotment—a special one without specifying how I was going to spend it?”

“Yes. Come on—get to the point.”

“You kicked at first, but finally granted it. Remember? Well, we’ve got something to show for it, all tied up in pink ribbon. It’s the greatest advance in radioactivity since Hahn split the nucleus. Atomic fuel, chief, atomic fuel, safe, concentrated, and controllable. Suitable for rockets, for power plants, for any damn thing you care to use it for.”

King showed alert interest for the first time. “You mean a power source that doesn’t require the bomb?”

“The bomb? Oh, no. I didn’t say that. You use the bomb to make the fuel, then you use the fuel anywhere and anyhow you like, with something like ninety-two percent recovery of the energy of the bomb. But you could junk the mercury-steam sequence, if you wanted to.”

King’s first wild hope of a way out of his dilemma was dashed; he subsided. “Go ahead. Tell me about it.”

“Well—it’s a matter of artificial radioactives. Just before I asked for that special research allotment, Erickson and I—Dr. Lentz had a finger in it, too—found two isotopes of a radioactive that seemed to be mutually antagonistic. That is, when we goosed ’em in the presence of each other they gave up their latent energy all at once—blew all to hell. The important point is, we were using just a gnat’s whisker of mass of each—the reaction didn’t require a big mass like the bomb to maintain it.”

“I don’t see,” objected King, “how that could—”

“Neither do we, quite—but it works. We’ve kept it quiet until we were sure. We checked on what we had, and we found a dozen other fuels. Probably we’ll be able to tailormake fuels for any desired purpose. But here it is.” Harper handed King a bound sheaf of typewritten notes which he had been carrying under the arm. “That’s your copy. Look it over.”

King started to do so. Lentz joined him, after a look that was a silent request for permission, which Erickson had answered with his only verbal contribution, “Sure, Doc.”

As King read, the troubled feeling of an acutely harassed executive left him. His dominant personality took charge, that of the scientist. He enjoyed the controlled and cerebral ecstasy of the impersonal seeker for the elusive truth. The emotions felt in the throbbing thalamus were permitted only to form a sensuous obligato for the cold flame of cortical activity. For the time being, he was sane, more nearly completely sane than most men ever achieve at any time.

For a long period there was only an occasional grunt, the clatter of turned pages, a nod of approval. At last he put it down.

“It’s the stuff,” he said. “You’ve done it, boys. It’s great; I’m proud of you.”

Erickson glowed a bright pink and swallowed. Harper’s small, tense figure gave the ghost of a wriggle, reminiscent of a wire-haired terrier receiving approval. “That’s fine, chief. We’d rather hear you say that than get the Nobel Prize.”

“I think you’ll probably get it. However”—the proud light in his eyes died down—”I’m not going to take any action in this matter.”

“Why not, chief?” Harper’s tone was bewildered.

“I’m being retired. My successor will take over in the near future; this is too big a matter to start just before a change in administration.”

You being retired! What the hell! Why?

“About the same reason I took you off the bomb—at least, the Directors think so.”

“But that’s nonsense! You were right to take me off the bomb; I was getting jumpy. But you’re another matter—we all depend on you.”

“Thanks, Cal—but that’s how it is; there’s nothing to be done about it.” He turned to Lentz. “I think this is the last ironical touch needed to make the whole thing pure farce,” he observed bitterly. “This thing is big, bigger than we can guess at this stage—and I have to give it a miss.”

“Well,” Harper burst out, “I can think of something to do about it!” He strode over to King’s desk and snatched up the manuscript. “Either you superintend the exploitation or the company will damn well get along without our discovery!” Erickson concurred belligerently.

“Wait a minute.” Lentz had the floor. “Dr. Harper, have you already achieved a practical rocket fuel?”

“I said so. We’ve got it on hand now.”

“An escape-speed fuel?” They understood his verbal shorthand—a fuel that would lift a rocket free of the Earth’s gravitational pull.

“Sure. Why, you could take any of the Clipper rockets, refit them a trifle, and have breakfast on the Moon.”

“Very well. Bear with me—” He obtained a sheet of paper from King and commenced to write. They watched in mystified impatience. He continued briskly for some minutes, hesitating only momentarily. Presently he stopped and spun the paper over to King. “Solve it!” he demanded.

King studied the paper. Lentz had assigned symbols to a great number of factors, some social, some psychological, some physical, some economical. He had thrown them together into a structural relationship, using the symbols of calculus of statement. King understood the paramathematical operations indicated by the symbols, but he was not as used to them as he was to the symbols and operations of mathematical physics. He plowed through the equations, moving his lips slightly in unconscious subvocalization.

He accepted a pencil from Lentz and completed the solution. It required several more lines, a few more equations, before the elements canceled out, or rearranged themselves, into a definite answer.

He stared at this answer while puzzlement gave way to dawning comprehension and delight.

He looked up. “Erickson! Harper!” he rapped out. “We will take your new fuel, refit a large rocket, install the bomb in it, and throw it into an orbit around the Earth, far out in space. There we will use it to make more fuel, safe fuel, for use on Earth, with the danger from the bomb itself limited to the operators actually on watch!”

There was no applause. It was not that sort of an idea; their minds were still struggling with the complex implications.

“But, chief,” Harper finally managed, “how about your retirement? We’re still not going to stand for it.”

“Don’t worry,” King assured him. “It’s all in there, implicit in those equations, you two, me, Lentz, the Board of Directors—and just what we all have to do to accomplish it.”

“All except the matter of time,” Lentz cautioned.

“Eh?”

“You’ll note that elapsed time appears in your answer as an undetermined unknown.”

“Yes . . . yes, of course. That’s the chance we have to take. Let’s get busy!”* * *

Chairman Dixon called the Board of Directors to order. “This being a special meeting, we’ll dispense with minutes and reports,” he announced. “As set forth in the call we have agreed to give the retiring superintendent three hours of our time.”

“Mr. Chairman—”

“Yes, Mr. Thornton?”

“I thought we had settled that matter.”

“We have, Mr. Thornton, but in view of Superintendent King’s long and distinguished service, if he asks a hearing, we are honor bound to grant it. You have the floor, Dr. King.”

King got up and stated briefly, “Dr. Lentz will speak for me.” He sat down.

Lentz had to wait till coughing, throat clearing and scraping of chairs subsided. It was evident that the board resented the outsider.

Lentz ran quickly over the main points in the argument which contended that the bomb presented an intolerable danger anywhere on the face of the Earth. He moved on at once to the alternative proposal that the bomb should be located in a rocketship, an artificial moonlet flying in a free orbit around the Earth at a convenient distance—say, fifteen thousand miles—while secondary power stations on earth burned a safe fuel manufactured by the bomb.

He announced the discovery of the Harper-Erickson technique and dwelt on what it meant to them commercially. Each point was presented as persuasively as possible, with the full power of his engaging personality. Then he paused and waited for them to blow off steam.

They did. “Visionary—” “Unproved—” “No essential change in the situation—” The substance of it was that they were very happy to hear of the new fuel, but not particularly impressed by it. Perhaps in another twenty years, after it had been thoroughly tested and proved commercially, and provided enough uranium had been mined to build another bomb, they might consider setting up another power station outside the atmosphere. In the meantime there was no hurry.

Lentz patiently and politely dealt with their objections. He emphasized the increasing incidence of occupational psychoneurosis among the engineers and grave danger to everyone near the bomb even under the orthodox theory. He reminded them of their insurance and indemnity-bond costs, and of the “squeeze” they paid State politicians.

Then he changed his tone and let them have it directly and brutally. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we believe that we are fighting for our lives—our own lives, our families and every life on the globe. If you refuse this compromise, we will fight as fiercely and with as little regard for fair play as any cornered animal.” With that he made his first move in attack.

It was quite simple. He offered for their inspection the outline of a propaganda campaign on a national scale, such as any major advertising firm should carry out as matter of routine. It was complete to the last detail, television broadcasts, spot plugs, newspaper and magazine coverage and—most important—a supporting whispering campaign and a letters-to-Congress organization. Every businessman there knew from experience how such things worked.

But its object was to stir up fear of the bomb and to direct that fear, not into panic, but into rage against the Board of Directors personally, and into a demand that the government take action to have the bomb removed to outer space.

“This is blackmail! We’ll stop you!”

“I think not,” Lentz replied gently. “You may be able to keep us out of some of the newspapers, but you can’t stop the rest of it. You can’t even keep us off the air—ask the Federal Communications Commission.” It was true. Harrington had handled the political end and had performed his assignment well; the President was convinced.

Tempers were snapping on all sides; Dixon had to pound for order. “Dr. Lentz,” he said, his own temper under taut control, “you plan to make every one of us appear a blackhearted scoundrel with no other thought than personal profit, even at the expense of the lives of others. You know that is not true; this is a simple difference of opinion as to what is wise.”

“I did not say it was true,” Lentz admitted blandly, “but you will admit that I can convince the public that you are deliberate villains. As to it being a difference of opinion—you are none of you atomic physicists; you are not entitled to hold opinions in this matter.

“As a matter of fact,” he went on callously, “the only doubt in my mind is whether or not an enraged public will destroy your precious power plant before Congress has time to exercise eminent domain and take it away from you!”

Before they had time to think up arguments in answer and ways of circumventing him, before their hot indignation had cooled and set as stubborn resistance, he offered his gambit. He produced another layout for a propaganda campaign—an entirely different sort.

This time the Board of Directors was to be built up, not torn down. All of the same techniques were to be used; behind-the-scenes feature articles with plenty of human interest would describe the functions of the company, describe it as a great public trust, administered by patriotic, unselfish statesmen of the business world. At the proper point in the campaign, the Harper-Erickson fuel would be announced, not as a semi-accidental result of the initiative of two employees, but as the long-expected end product of years of systematic research conducted under a fixed policy growing naturally out of their humane determination to remove forever the menace of explosion from even the sparsely settled Arizona desert.

No mention was to be made of the danger of complete, planet-embracing catastrophe.

Lentz discussed it. He dwelt on the appreciation that would be due them from a grateful world. He invited them to make a noble sacrifice and, with subtle misdirection, tempted them to think of themselves as heroes. He deliberately played on one of the most deep-rooted of simian instincts, the desire for approval from one’s kind, deserved or not.

All the while he was playing for time, as he directed his attention from one hard case, one resistant mind, to another. He soothed and he tickled and he played on personal foibles. For the benefit of the timorous and the devoted family men, he again painted a picture of the suffering, death and destruction that might result from their well-meant reliance on the unproved and highly questionable predictions of Destry’s mathematics. Then he described in glowing detail a picture of a world free from worry but granted almost unlimited power, safe power from an invention which was theirs for this one small concession.

It worked. They did not reverse themselves all at once, but a committee was appointed to investigate the feasibility of the proposed spaceship power plant. By sheer brass Lentz suggested names for the committee and Dixon confirmed his nominations, not because he wished to, particularly, but because he was caught off guard and could not think of a reason to refuse without affronting the colleagues.

The impending retirement of King was not mentioned by either side. Privately, Lentz felt sure that it never would be mentioned.

It worked, but there was left much to do. For the first few days after the victory in committee, King felt much elated by the prospect of an early release from the soul-killing worry. He was buoyed up by pleasant demands of manifold new administrative duties. Harper and Erickson were detached to Goddard Field to collaborate with the rocket engineers there in design of firing chambers, nozzles, fuel stowage, fuel metering and the like. A schedule had to be worked out with the business office to permit as much power of the bomb as possible to be diverted to making atomic fuel, and a giant combustion chamber for atomic fuel had to be designed and ordered to replace the bomb itself during the interim between the time it was shut down on Earth and the later time when sufficient local, smaller plants could be built to carry the commercial load. He was busy.

When the first activity had died down and they were settled in a new routine, pending the shutting down of the bomb and its removal to outer space, King suffered an emotional reaction. There was, by then, nothing to do but wait, and tend the bomb, until the crew at Goddard Field smoothed out the bugs and produced a space-worthy rocketship.

They ran into difficulties, overcame them, and came across more difficulties. They had never used such high reaction velocities; it took many trials to find a nozzle shape that would give reasonably high efficiency. When that was solved, and success seemed in sight, the jets burned out on a time-trial ground test. They were stalemated for weeks over that hitch.

Back at the power plant Superintendent King could do nothing but chew his nails and wait. He had not even the release of running over to Goddard Field to watch the progress of the research, for, urgently as he desired to, he felt an even stronger, an overpowering compulsion to watch over the bomb lest it—heart-breakingly!—blow up at the last minute.

He took to hanging around the control room. He had to stop that; his unease communicated itself to his watch engineers; two of them cracked up in a single day—one of them on watch.

He must face the fact—there had been a grave upswing in psychoneurosis among his engineers since the period of watchful waiting had commenced. At first, they had tried to keep the essential facts of the plan a close secret, but it had leaked out, perhaps through some member of the investigating committee. He admitted to himself now that it had been a mistake ever to try to keep it secret—Lentz had advised against it, and the engineers not actually engaged in the changeover were bound to know that something was up.

He took all of the engineers into confidence at last, under oath of secrecy. That had helped for a week or more, a week in which they were all given a spiritual lift by the knowledge, as he had been. Then it had worn off, the reaction had set in, and psychological observers had started disqualifying engineers for duty almost daily. They were even reporting each other as mentally unstable with great frequency; he might even be faced with a shortage of psychiatrists if that kept up, he thought to himself with bitter amusement. His engineers were already standing four hours in every sixteen. If one more dropped out, he’d put himself on watch. That would be a relief, to tell himself the truth.

Somehow, some of the civilians around about and the nontechnical employees were catching on to the secret. That mustn’t go on—if it spread any farther there might be a nationwide panic. But how the hell could he stop it? He couldn’t.

He turned over in bed, rearranged his pillow, and tried once more to get to sleep. No soap. His head ached, his eyes were balls of pain, and his brain was a ceaseless grind of useless, repetitive activity, like a disk recording stuck in one groove.

God! This was unbearable! He wondered if he were cracking up—if he already had cracked up. This was worse, many times worse, than the old routine when he had simply acknowledged the danger and tried to forget it as much as possible. Not that the bomb was any different—it was this five-minutes-to-armistice feeling, this waiting for the curtain to go up, this race against time with nothing to do to help.

He sat up, switched on his bed lamp, and looked at the clock. Three thirty. Not so good. He got up, went into his bathroom, and dissolved a sleeping powder in a glass of whiskey and water, half and half. He gulped it down and went back to bed. Presently he dozed off.* * *

He was running, fleeing down a long corridor. At the end lay safety—he knew that, but he was so utterly exhausted that he doubted his ability to finish the race. The thing pursuing him was catching up; he forced his leaden, aching legs into greater activity. The thing behind him increased its pace, and actually touched him. His heart stopped, then pounded again. He became aware that he was screaming, shrieking in mortal terror.

But he had to reach the end of that corridor; more depended on it than just himself. He had to. He had to! He had to! 

Then the sound hit him, and he realized that he had lost, realized it with utter despair and utter, bitter defeat. He had failed; the bomb had blown up.* * *

The sound was the alarm going off; it was seven o’clock. His pajamas were soaked, dripping with sweat, and his heart still pounded. Every ragged nerve throughout his body screamed for release. It would take more than a cold shower to cure this case of the shakes.

He got to the office before the janitor was out of it. He sat there, doing nothing, until Lentz walked in on him, two hours later. The psychiatrist came in just as he was taking two small tablets from a box in his desk.

“Easy . . . easy, old man,” Lentz said in a slow voice. “What have you there?” He came around and gently took possession of the box.

“Just a sedative.”

Lentz studied the inscription on the cover. “How many have you had today?”

“Just two, so far.”

“You don’t need a sedative; you need a walk in the fresh air. Come, take one with me.”

“You’re a fine one to talk—you’re smoking a cigarette that isn’t lighted!”

“Me? Why, so I am! We both need that walk. Come.”

Harper arrived less than ten minutes after they had left the office. Steinke was not in the outer office. He walked on through and pounded on the door of King’s private office, then waited with the man who accompanied him—a hard young chap with an easy confidence to his bearing. Steinke let them in.

Harper brushed on past him with a casual greeting, then checked himself when he saw that there was no one else inside.

“Where’s the chief?” he demanded.

“Gone out. Should be back soon.”

“I’ll wait. Oh—Steinke, this is Greene. Greene—Steinke.”

The two shook hands. “What brings you back, Cal?” Steinke asked, turning back to Harper.

“Well . . . I guess it’s all right to tell you—”

The communicator screen flashed into sudden activity, and cut him short. A face filled most of the frame. It was apparently too close to the pickup, as it was badly out of focus. “Superintendent!” it yelled in an agonized voice. “The bomb—”

A shadow flashed across the screen, they heard a dull smack, and the face slid out of the screen. As it fell it revealed the control room behind it. Someone was down on the floor plates, a nameless heap. Another figure ran across the field of pickup and disappeared.

Harper snapped into action first. “That was Silard!” he shouted, “In the control room! Come on, Steinke!” He was already in motion himself.

Steinke went dead-white, but hesitated only an unmeasurable instant. He pounded sharp on Harper’s heels. Greene followed without invitation, in a steady run that kept easy pace with them.

They had to wait for a capsule to unload at the tube station. Then all three of them tried to crowd into a two-passenger capsule. It refused to start, and moments were lost before Greene piled out and claimed another car.

The four-minute trip at heavy acceleration seemed an interminable crawl. Harper was convinced that the system had broken down, when the familiar click and sigh announced their arrival at the station under the bomb. They jammed each other trying to get out at the same time.

The lift was up; they did not wait for it. That was unwise; they gained no time by it, and arrived at the control level out of breath. Nevertheless, they speeded up when they reached the top, zigzagged frantically around the outer shield, and burst into the control room.

The limp figure was still on the floor, and another, also inert, was near it. The second’s helmet was missing.

The third figure was bending over the trigger. He looked up as they came in, and charged them. They hit him together, and all three went down. It was two to one, but they got in each other’s way. The man’s heavy armor protected him from the force of their blows. He fought with senseless, savage violence.

Harper felt a bright, sharp pain; his right arm went limp and useless. The armored figure was struggling free of them.

There was a shout from somewhere behind them, “Hold still!”

Harper saw a flash with the corner of one eye, a deafening crack hurried on top of it, and re-echoed painfully in the restricted space.

The armored figure dropped back to his knees, balanced there, and then fell heavily on his face. Greene stood in the entrance, a service pistol balanced in his hand.

Harper got up and went over to the trigger. He tried to reduce the dampening adjustment, but his right hand wouldn’t carry out his orders, and his left was too clumsy. “Steinke,” he called, “come here! Take over.”

Steinke hurried up, nodded as he glanced at the readings, and set busily to work.* * *

It was thus that King found them when he bolted in a very few minutes later.

“Harper!” he shouted, while his quick glance was still taking in the situation. “What’s happened?”

Harper told him briefly. He nodded. “I saw the tail end of the fight from my office—Steinke!” He seemed to grasp for the first time who was on the trigger. “He can’t manage the controls—” He hurried toward him.

Steinke looked up at his approach. “Chief!” he called out. “Chief! I’ve got my mathematics back!

King looked bewildered, then nodded vaguely, and let him be. He turned back to Harper. “How does it happen you’re here?”

“Me? I’m here to report—we’ve done it, chief!”

“Eh?”

“We’ve finished; it’s all done. Erickson stayed behind to complete the power-plant installation on the big ship. I came over in the ship we’ll use to shuttle between Earth and the big ship, the power plant. Four minutes from Goddard Field to here in her. That’s the pilot over there.” He pointed to the door, where Greene’s solid form partially hid Lentz.

“Wait a minute. You say that everything is ready to install the bomb in the ship? You’re sure?”

“Positive. The big ship has already flown with our fuel—longer and faster than she will have to fly to reach station in her orbit; I was in it—out in space, chief! We’re all set, six ways from zero.”

King stared at the dumping switch, mounted behind glass at the top of the instrument board. “There’s fuel enough,” he said softly, as if he were alone and speaking only to himself; “there’s been fuel enough for weeks.”

He walked swiftly over to the switch, smashed the glass with his fist, and pulled it.

The room rumbled and shivered as two and a half tons of molten, massive metal, heavier than gold, coursed down channels, struck against baffles, split into a dozen streams, and plunged to rest in leaden receivers—to rest, safe and harmless, until it could be reassembled far out in space.

AFTERWORD 

December 1979, exactly 40 years after I researched BLOWUPS HAPPEN (Dec. '39): I had some doubt about republishing this because of the current ignorant fear of fission power, recently enhanced by the harmless flap at Three Mile Island. When I wrote this, there was not a full gram of purified U-235 on this planet, and no one knew its hazards in detail, most especially the mass and geometry and speed of assembly necessary to make "blowups happen.But we now know from long experience and endless tests that the "tonsused in this story could never be assembledno explosion, melt-down possible, melt-down being the worst that can happen at a power plant; to cause U-235 to explode is very difficult and requires very different design. Yes, radiation is hazardous BUT— 

RADIATION EXPOSURE  

Half a mile from Three-Mile plant 
during the flap 83 millirems 
At the power plant 1,100 millirems 
During heart catheterization for angiogram 45,000 millirems 
—which I underwent 18 months ago. I feel fine.  

The End

Fictional Story Related Index

This is an index of full text reprints of stories that I have read that influenced me when I was young. They are rather difficult to come by today, as where I live they are nearly impossible to find. Yes, you can find them on the internet, behind paywalls. Ah, that’s why all those software engineers in California make all that money. Well, here they are FOR FREE. Enjoy reading them.

Movies that Inspired Me

Here are some movies that I consider noteworthy and worth a view. Enjoy.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.
Jason and the Argonauts
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)
The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Correspondence Course
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt
The Star Mouse (Full Text)
Space Jockey (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
He who shrank (Full Text).

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Art that Moves Me

An experiment of a bird in a vacuum jar.

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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“He Who Shrank” (Full Text) by Henry Hasse

This is a fine short science fiction story that I have never forgotten. I must have read it when I was in my middle teenage years. When I ran across it the other day, I felt that I just had to include it in my internet collection here. There’s nothing really special or noteworthy about this story, except that it is unique and a fun read.

Please enjoy.

The greatest scientist the world has ever had has invented a  extraordinary new means of exploring the world of the infinitely small,  and sends his devoted assistant - notwithstanding his objections to the  scheme - on a mind-boggling series of adventures exploring the infinite  series of concentric universes contained within the most minute particle  (!!), thus providing the scope and scale of one of the most ambitious  and wide-ranging and thought-provoking science-fiction stories ever.

This powerful saga was first published in the August 1936 issue of  Amazing Stories.

He Who Shrank

I

YEARS, centuries, aeons, have fled past me in endless parade, leav­ing me unscathed: for I am deathless, and in all the universe alone of my kind. Universe? Strange how that convenient word leaps instantly to my mind from force of old habit. Universe? The merest expression of a puny idea in the minds of those who cannot possibly conceive whereof they speak. The word is a mockery. Yet how glibly men utter it! How little do they realize the artificiality of the word!

That night when the Professor called me to him he was standing close to the curved transparent wall of the astrono-laboratory looking out into the blackness. He heard me enter, but did not look around as he spoke. I do not know whether he was addressing me or not.

"They call me the greatest scientist the world has had in all time."

I had been his only assistant for years, and was accustomed to his moods, so I did not speak. Neither did he for several moments and then he continued:

"Only a half year ago I discovered a principle that will be the means of  utterly annihilating every kind of disease germ. And only recently I  turned over to others the principles of a new toxin which stimulates the  worn-out protoplasmic life-cells, causing almost com­plete  rejuvenation. The combined results should nearly double the ordinary  life span. Yet these two things are only incidental in the long list of  discoveries I have made to the great benefit of the race."

He turned then and faced me, and I was surprised at a new pecul­iar glow that lurked deep in his eyes.

"And for these things they call me great! For these puny discov­eries  they heap honors on me and call me the benefactor of the race. They  disgust me, the fools! Do they think I did it for them? Do they think I  care about the race, what it does or what happens to it or how long it  lives? They do not suspect that all the things I have given them were  but accidental discoveries on my part—to which I gave hardly a thought.  Oh, you seem amazed. Yet not even you, who have assisted me here for ten  years, ever suspected that all my labors and experiments were pointed  toward one end, and one end alone."

He went over to a locked compartment which in earlier years I had wondered about and then ceased to wonder about, as I became engrossed in my work. The professor opened it now, and I glimpsed but the usual array of bottles and test-tubes and vials. One of these vials he lifted gingerly from a rack.

"And at last I have attained the end," he almost whispered, hold­ing the  tube aloft. A pale liquid scintillated eerily against the artificial  light in the ceiling. "Thirty years, long years, of ceaseless  experiment­ing, and now, here in my hand—success!"

The Professor’s manner, the glow deep in his dark eyes, the sub­merged enthusiasm that seemed at every instant about to leap out, all served to impress me deeply. It must indeed be an immense thing he had done, and I ventured to say as much.

"Immense!" he exclaimed. "Immense! Why—why it’s so immense that—. But wait. Wait. You shall see for yourself."

At that time how little did I suspect the significance of his words. I was indeed to see for myself.

Carefully he replaced the vial, then walked over to the transparent wall again.

"Look!" he gestured toward the night sky. "The unknown! Does it not  fascinate you? The other fools dream of some day travelling out there  among the stars. They think they will go out there and learn the secret  of the universe. But as yet they have been baffled by the problem of a  sufficiently powerful fuel or force for their ships. And they are blind.  Within a month I could solve the puny difficulty that confronts them;  could, but I won’t. Let them search, let them experiment, let them waste  their lives away, what do I care about them?"

I wondered what he was driving at, but realized that he would come to the point in his own way. He went on:

"And suppose they do solve the problem, suppose they do leave the  planet, go to other worlds in their hollow ships, what will it profit  them? Suppose that they travel with the speed of light for their own  life time, and then land on a star at that point, the farthest point  away from here that is possible for them? They would no doubt say: ’We  can now realize as never before the truly staggering expanse of the  universe. It is indeed a great structure, the universe. We have traveled  a far distance; we must be on the fringe of it.’
 "Thus they would believe. Only I would know how wrong they were, for I  can sit here and look through this telescope and see stars that are  fifty and sixty times as distant as that upon which they landed.  Comparatively, their star would be infinitely close to us. The poor  deluded fools and their dreams of space travel!"

“But, Professor,” I interposed, “just think—”

"Wait! Now listen. I, too, have long desired to fathom the uni­verse, to  determine what it is, the manner and the purpose and the secret of its  creation. Have you ever stopped to wonder what the universe is? For  thirty years I have worked for the answer to those questions. Unknowing,  you helped me with your efficiency on the strange experiments I  assigned to you at various times. Now I have the answer in that vial,  and you shall be the only one to share the secret with me."

Incredulous, I again tried to interrupt.

"Wait!" he said. "Let me finish. There was the time when I also looked  to the stars for the answer. I built my telescope, on a new principle of  my own. I searched the depths of the void. I made vast calculations.  And I proved conclusively to my own mind what had theretofore been only a  theory. I know now without doubt that this our planet, and other  planets revolving about the sun, are but electrons of an atom, of which  the sun is the nucleus. And our sun is but one of millions of others,  each with its allotted number of planets, each system being an atom just  as our own is in reality.

"And all these millions of solar systems, or atoms, taken together in  one group, form a galaxy. As you know, there are countless num­bers of  these galaxies throughout space, with tremendous stretches of space  between them. And what are these galaxies? Molecules! They extend  through space even beyond the farthest range of my telescope! But having  penetrated that far, it is not difficult to make the final step.

"All of these far-flung galaxies, or molecules, taken together as a  whole, form—what? Some indeterminable element or substance on a great,  ultramacrocosmic world! Perhaps a minute drop of water, or a grain of  sand, or wisp of smoke, or—good God!—an eyelash of some creature living  on that world!"

I could not speak. I felt myself grow faint at the thought he had propounded. I tried to think it could not be—yet what did I or any­one know about the infinite stretches of space that must exist beyond the ranges of our most powerful telescope?

“It can’t be!” I burst out. “It’s incredible, it’s—monstrous!”

"Monstrous? Carry it a step further. May not that ultra-world also be an  electron whirling around the nucleus of an atom? And that atom only one  of millions forming a molecule? And that molecule only one of millions  forming—"

“For God’s sake, stop!” I cried. “I refuse to believe that such a thing can be! Where would it all lead? Where would it end? It might go on—forever! And besides,” I added lamely, “what has all this to do with—your discovery, the fluid you showed me?”

"Just this. I soon learned that it was useless to look to the  infi­nitely large; so I turned to the infinitely small. For does it not  follow that if such a state of creation exists in the stars above us, it  must exist identically in the atoms below us?"

I saw his line of reasoning, but still did not understand. His next words fully enlightened me, but made me suspect that I was facing one who had gone insane from his theorizing. He went on eagerly, his voice the voice of a fanatic:

"If I could not pierce the stars above, that were so far, then I would  pierce the atoms below, that were so near. They are every­where. In  every object I touch and in the very air I breathe. But they are minute,  and to reach them I must find a way to make myself as minute as they  are, and more so! This I have done. The solution I showed you will cause  every individual atom in my body to contract, but each electron and  proton will also decrease in size, or diameter, in direct proportion to  my own shrinkage! Thus will I not only be able to become the size of an  atom, but can go down, down into infinite smallness!"

When he had stopped speaking I said calmly: “You are mad.”

He was imperturbed.

"I expected you to say that," he answered. "It is  only natural that that should be your reaction to all that I have said.  But no, I am not mad, it is merely that you are unacquainted with the  marvelous propensities of `Shrinx.’ But I promised that you should see  for yourself, and that you shall. You shall be the first to go down into  the atomic universe."

My original opinion in regard to his state of mind remained unshaken.

“I am sure you mean well, Professor,” I said, “but I must decline your offer.”

He went on as though I hadn’t spoken:

"There are several reasons why I want to send you before I myself make  the trip. In the first place, once you make the trip there can be no  returning, and there are a number of points I want to be quite clear on.  You will serve as my advance guard, so to speak."

“Professor, listen. I do not doubt that the stuff you call ’Shrinx’ has very remarkable properties. I will even admit that it will do all you say it will do. But for the past month you have worked day and night, with scarcely enough time out for food and hardly any sleep at all. You should take a rest, get away from the laboratory for awhile.”

"I shall keep in contact with your consciousness," he said, "through a  very ingenious device I have perfected. I will explain it to you later.  The `Shrinx’ is introduced directly into the blood stream. Shortly  thereafter your shrinkage should begin, and continue at moderate speed,  never diminishing in the least degree so long as the blood continues to  flow in your body. At least, I hope it never diminishes. Should it, I  shall have to make the necessary alterations in the formula. All this is  theoretical of course, but I am sure it will all work according to  schedule, and quite without harm."

I had now lost all patience. “See here, Professor,” I said crossly, “I refuse to be the object of any of your wild-sounding experiments. You should realize that what you propose to do is scientifically im­possible. Go home and rest—or go away for a while—”

Without the slightest warning he leaped at me, snatching an object from the table. Before I could take a backward step I felt a needle plunge deep into my arm, and cried out with the pain of it. Things became hazy, distorted. A wave of vertigo swept over me. Then it passed, and my vision cleared. The Professor stood leering before me.

"Yes, I’ve worked hard and I’m tired. I’ve worked thirty years, but I’m  not tired enough nor fool enough to quit this thing now, right on the  verge of the climax!"

His leer of triumph gave way to an expression almost of sympathy.

"I am sorry it had to come about this way," he said, "but I saw that you  would never submit otherwise. I really am ashamed of you. I didn’t  think you would doubt the truth of my statements to the extent of really  believing me insane. But to be safe I prepared your allotment of the  `Shrinx’ in advance, and had it ready; it is now cours­ing through your  veins, and it should be but a short time before we observe the effects.  What you saw in the vial is for myself when I am ready to make the trip.  Forgive me for having to administer yours in such an undignified  manner."

So angered was I at the utter disregard he had shown for my personal feelings, that I hardly heard his words. My arm throbbed fiercely where the needle had plunged in. I tried to take a step toward him, but not a muscle would move. I struggled hard to break the paralysis that was upon me, but could not move a fraction of an inch from where I stood.

The professor seemed surprised too, and alarmed.

"What, paralysis? That is an unforeseen circumstance! You see, it is  even as I said: the properties of `Shrinx’ are marvelous and many."

He came close and peered intently into my eyes, and seemed relieved.

"However, the effect is only temporary," he assured me. Then added: "But  you will likely be a bit smaller when the use of your muscles returns,  for your shrinkage should begin very shortly now. I must hurry to  prepare for the final step."

He walked past me, and I heard him open his private cupboard again. I could not speak, much less move, and I was indeed in a most uncomfortable, not to mention undignified, position. All I could do was to glare at him when he came around in front of me again. He carried a curious kind of helmet with ear-pieces and goggles attached, and a number of wires running from it. This he placed upon the table and connected the wires to a small flat box there.

All the while I watched him closely. I hadn’t the least idea what he was going to do with me, but never for a moment did I believe that I would shrink into an atomic universe; that was altogether too fantastic for my conception.

As though reading my thought the Professor turned and faced me. He looked me over casually for a moment and then said:

"I believe it has begun already. Yes, I am sure of it. Tell me, do you  not feel it? Do not things appear a trifle larger to you, a trifle  taller? Ah, I forgot that the paralyzing effect does not permit you to  answer. But look at me—do I not seem taller?"

I looked at him. Was it my imagination, or some kind of hypnosis he was asserting on me, that made me think he was growing slightly, ever so slightly, upward even as I looked?

"Ah!" he said triumphantly. "You have noticed. I can tell it by your  eyes. However, it is not I who am growing taller, but you who are  shrinking."

He grasped me by the arms and turned me about to face the wall.

"I can  see that you doubt," he said, "so look! The border on the wall. If you  remember, it used to be about even with your eyes. Now it is fully three  inches higher."

It was true! And I could now feel a tingling in my veins, and a slight dizziness.

"Your shrinkage has not quite reached the maximum speed," he went on.  "When it does, it will remain constant. I could not stop it now even if I  wanted to, for I have nothing to counteract it. Listen closely now, for  I have several things to tell you.
"When you have become small enough I am going to lift you up and place  you on this block of Rehyllium-X here on the table. You will become  smaller and smaller, and eventually should enter an alien universe  consisting of billions and billions of star groups, or galaxies, which  are only the molecules in this Rehyllium-X. When you burst through, your  size in comparison with this new universe should be gigantic. However,  you will constantly diminish, and will be enabled to alight on any one  of the spheres of your own choosing. And—after alighting—you will  continue—always down!"

At the concept I thought I would go mad. Already I had become fully a foot shorter, and still the paralysis gripped me. Could I have moved I would have torn the Professor limb from limb in my im­potent rage—though if what he said was true, I was already doomed.

Again it seemed as though he read my mind.

"Do not think too harshly of me," he said. "You should be very grateful  for this opportunity, for you are going on a marvelous ven­ture, into a  marvelous realm. 

Indeed, I am almost jealous that you should be the  first. But with this," he indicated the helmet and box on the table, "I  shall keep contact with you no matter how far you go. Ah, I see by your  eyes that you wonder how such a thing could be possible. Well, the  principle of this device is really very simple. 

Just as light is a form  of energy, so is thought. And just as light travels through an ’ether’  in the form of waves, so does thought. But the thought waves are much  more intangible—in fact, invisible. Nevertheless the waves are there,  and the coils in this box are so sensi­tized as to receive and amplify  them a million times, much as sound waves might be amplified. 

Through  this helmet I will receive but two of your six sensations: those of  sound,and sight. They are the two major ones, and will be sufficient for  my purpose. Every sight and sound that you encounter, no matter how  minute, reaches your brain and displaces tiny molecules there that go  out in the form of thought waves and finally reach here and are  amplified. 

Thus my brain re­ceives every impression of sight and sound  that your brain sends out."

I did not doubt now that his marvelous “Shrinx” would do every­thing he said it would do. Already I was but one-third of my original size. Still the paralysis showed no sign of releasing me, and I hoped that the Professor knew whereof he spoke when he said the effect would be but temporary. My anger had subsided somewhat, and I think I began to wonder what I would find in that other universe.

Then a terrifying thought assailed me—a thought that left me cold with apprehension. If, as the Professor had said, the atomic universe was but a tiny replica of the universe we knew, would I not find myself in the vast empty spaces between the galaxies with no air to breathe? In all the vast calculations the Professor had made, could he have overlooked such an obvious point?

Now I was very close to the floor, scarcely a foot high. Everything about me—the Professor, the tables, the walls—were gigantically out of proportion to myself.

The Professor reached down then, and swung me up on the table top amidst the litter of wires and apparatus. He began speaking again, and to my tiny ears his voice sounded a deeper note.

"Here is the block of Rehyllium-X containing the universe you soon will  fathom," he said, placing on the table beside me the square piece of  metal, which was nearly half as tall as I was. 

"As you know, Rehyllium-X  is the densest of all known metals, so the universe awaiting you should  be a comparatively dense one—though you will not think so, with the  thousands of light-years of space between stars. Of course I know no  more about this universe than you do, but I would advise you to avoid  the very bright stars and approach only the dimmer ones. 

Well, this is  good-by, then. We shall never see each other again. Even should I follow  you—as I certainly shall as soon as I have learned through you what  alterations I should make in the formula—it is impossible that I could  exactly trace your course down through all the spheres that you will  have traversed. 

One thing already I have learned: the rate of shrinkage  is too rapid; you will be able to stay on a world for only a few hours.  But perhaps that is best, after all. This is good-by for all time."

He picked me up and placed me upon the smooth surface of the Rehyllium-X. I judged that I must be about four inches tall then. It was with immeasurable relief that I finally felt the paralysis going away. The power of my voice returned first, and expanding my lungs I shouted with all by might.

“Professor!” I shouted. “Professor!”

He bent down over me. To him my voice must have sounded ridiculously high pitched.

“What about the empty regions of space I will find myself in?” I asked a bit tremulously, my mouth close to his ear. “I would last but a few minutes. My life will surely be snuffed out.”

"No, that will not happen," he answered. 

His voice beat upon my ear-drums like thunder, and I placed my hands over my ears.

He understood, and spoke more softly.

"You will be quite safe in airless  space," he went on. "In the thirty years I have worked on the problem, I  would not be likely to overlook that point—though I will admit it gave  me much trouble. But as I said, `Shrinx’ is all the more marvelous in  the fact that its qualities are many. After many difficul­ties and  failures, I managed to instill in it a certain potency by which it  supplies sufficient oxygen for your need, distributed through the blood  stream. It also irradiates a certain amount of heat; and, inas­much as I  consider the supposed sub-zero temperature of space as being somewhat  exaggerated, I don’t think you need worry about any discomfort in open  space."

III

I was scarcely over an inch in height now. I could walk about, though my limbs tingled fiercely as the paralysis left. I could beat my arms against my sides and swung them about to speed the circulation. The Professor must have thought I was waving good-by. His hand reached out and he lifted me up. Though he tried to handle me gently, the pressure of his fingers bruised. He held me in his open hand and raised me up to the level of his eyes. He looked at me for a long moment and then I saw his lips form the words “good-by.” I was terribly afraid he would drop me to the floor a dizzy distance below, and I was relieved when he lowered me again and I slid off his hand to the block of Rehyllium-X.

The Professor now appeared as a giant towering hundreds of feet into the air, and beyond him, seemingly miles away, the walls of the room extended to unimaginable heights. The ceiling above seemed as far away and expansive as the dome of the sky I had formerly known. I ran to the edge of the block and peered down. It was as though I stood at the top of a high cliff. The face of it was black and smooth, absolutely perpendicular. I stepped back apace lest I lose my footing and fall to my death. Far below extended the vast smooth plain of the table top.

I walked back to the center of the block, for I was afraid of the edge; I might be easily shaken off if the Professor were to accidentally jar the table. I had no idea of my size now, for there was nothing with which I could compare it. For all I knew I might be entirely invisible to the Professor. He was now but an indistinguishable blur, like a far-off mountain seen through a haze.

I now began to notice that the surface of the Rehyllium-X block was not as smooth as it had been. As far as I could see were shallow ravines, extending in every direction. I realized that these must be tiny surface scratches that had been invisible before.

I was standing on the edge of one of these ravines, and I clambered down the side and began to walk along it. It was as straight as though laid by a ruler. Occasionally I came to intersecting ravines, and turned to the left or right. Before long, due to my continued shrinkage, the walls of these ravines towered higher than my head, and it was as though I walked along a narrow path between two cliffs.

Then I received the shock of my life, and my adventure came near to ending right there. I approached one of the intersections. I turned the sharp corner to the right. I came face to face with the How-Shall I-Describe-It.

It was a sickly bluish white in color. Its body was disc-shaped, with a long double row of appendages—legs—on the under side. Hundreds of ugly-looking spikes rimmed the disc body on the outer and upper edges. There was no head and apparently no organ of sight, but dozens of snake-like protuberances waved in my face as I nearly crashed into it. One of them touched me and the creature backed swiftly away, the spikes springing stiffly erect in formidable array.

This impression of the creature flashed upon my mind in the merest fraction of time, for you may be sure that I didn’t linger there to take stock of its pedigree. No indeed. My heart choked me in my fright, I whirled and sped down the opposite ravine. The sound of the thing’s pursuit lent wings to my feet, and I ran as I had never run before. Up one ravine and down another I sped, doubling to right and left in my effort to lose my pursuer. The irony of being pursued by a germ occurred to me, but the matter was too serious to be funny. I ran until I was out of breath, but no matter which way I turned and doubled the germ was always a hundred paces behind me. Its organ of sound must have been highly sensitive. At last I could run no more, and I darted around the next corner and stopped, gasping for breath.

The germ rushed a short distance past me and stopped, having lost the sound of my running. Its dozens of tentacular sound organs waved in all directions. Then it came unhesitatingly toward me, and again I ran. Apparently it had caught the sound of my heavy breathing. Again I dashed around the next corner, and as I heard the germ approach I held my breath until I thought my lungs would burst. It stopped again, waved its tentacles in the air and then ambled on down the ravine. Silently I sneaked a hasty retreat.

Now the walls of these ravines (invisible scratches on a piece of metal!) towered very high above me as I continued to shrink. Now too I noticed narrow chasms and pits all around me, in both the walls at the sides and the surface on which I walked. All of these seemed very deep, and some were so wide that I had to leap across them.

At first I was unable to account for these spaces that were opening all about me, and then I realized with a sort of shock that the Rehyllium-X was becoming porous, so small was I in size! Although it was the densest of all known metals, no substance what­soever could be so dense as to be an absolute solid.

I began to find it increasingly difficult to progress; I had to get back and make running jumps across the spaces. Finally I sat down and laughed as I realized the futility and stupidity of this. Why was I risking my life by jumping across these spaces that were becoming wider as I became smaller, when I had no particular destination anyway—except down. So I may as well stay in one spot.

No sooner had I made this decision, however, than something changed my mind.

It was the germ again.

I saw it far down the ravine, heading straight for me. It might have been the same one I had encountered before, or its twin brother. But now I had become so small that it was fully fifteen times my own size, and the very sight of the huge beast ambling toward me inspired terror into my heart. Once more I ran, praying that it wouldn’t hear the sound of my flight because of my small size.

Before I had gone a hundred yards I stopped in dismay. Before me yawned a space so wide that I couldn’t have leaped half the distance. There was escape on neither side, for the chasm extended up both the walls. I looked back. The germ had stopped. Its mass of tentacles was waving close to the ground.

Then it came on, not at an amble now but at a much faster rate. Whether it had heard me or had sensed my presence in some other manner, I did not know. Only one thing was apparent: I had but a few split seconds in which to act. I threw myself down flat, slid backward into the chasm, and hung there by my hands.

And I was just in time. A huge shape rushed overhead as I looked up. So big was the germ that the chasm which had appeared so wide to me, was inconsequential to it; it ran over the space as though it weren’t there. I saw the double row of the creature’s limbs as they flashed overhead. Each one was twice the size of my body.

Then happened what I had feared. One of the huge claw-like limbs came down hard on my hand, and a sharp spur raked across it. I could feel the pain all through my arm. The anguish was insufferable. I tried to get a better grip but couldn’t. My hold loosened. I dropped down—down—

IV

“This is the end.”

Such was my thought in that last awful moment as I slipped away into space. Involuntarily I shut my eyes, and I expected at any moment to crash into oblivion.

But nothing happened.

There was not even the usual sickening sensation that accompanies acceleration. I opened my eyes to a Stygian darkness, and put out an exploring hand. It encountered a rough wall which was flash­ing upward past my face. I was falling, then; but at no such speed as would have been the case under ordinary circumstances. This was rather as if I were floating downward. Or was it downward? I had lost all sense of up or down or sideways. I doubled my limbs under me and kicked out hard against the wall, shoving myself far away from it.

How long I remained falling—or drifting—there in that darkness I have no way of knowing. But it must have been minutes, and every minute I was necessarily growing smaller.

For some time I had been aware of immense masses all around me. They pressed upon me from every side, and from them came a very faint radiance. They were of all sizes, some no larger than myself and some looming up large as mountains. I tried to steer clear of the large ones, for I had no desire to be crushed between two of them. But there was little chance of that. Although we all drifted slowly along through space together, I soon observed that none of these masses ever approached each other or deviated the least bit from their paths.

As I continued to shrink, these masses seemed to spread out, away from me; and as they spread, the light which they exuded became brighter. They ceased to be masses, and became swirling, expanding, individual stretches of mist, milky white.

They were nebulae! Millions of miles of space must stretch between each of them! The gigantic mass I had clung to, drawn there by its gravity, also underwent this nebulosity, and now I was floating in the midst of an individual nebula. It spread out as I became smaller, and as it thinned and expanded, what had seemed mist now appeared as trillions and trillions of tiny spheres in intricate patterns.

I was in the very midst of these spheres! They were all around my feet, my arms, my head! They extended farther than I could reach, farther than I could see. I could have reached out and gathered thousands of them in my hand. I could have stirred and kicked my feet and scattered them in chaotic confusion about me. But I did not indulge in such reckless and unnecessary destruction of worlds. Doubtless my presence here had already done damage enough, dis­placing millions of them.

I scarcely dared to move a muscle for fear of disrupting the orbits of some of the spheres or wreaking havoc among some solar systems or star groups. I seemed to be hanging motionless among them; or if I were moving in any direction, the motion was too slight to be noticeable. I didn’t even know if I were horizontal or vertical, as those two terms had lost all meaning.

As I became smaller, of course the spheres became larger and the space between them expanded, so that the bewildering maze thinned somewhat and gave me more freedom of movement.
I took more cognizance now of the beauty around me. I remem­bered what the Professor had said about receiving my thought waves, and I hoped he was tuned in now, for I wouldn’t have had him miss it for anything.

Every hue I had ever known was represented there among the suns and encircling planets: dazzling whites, reds, yellows, blues, greens, violets, and every intermediate shade. I glimpsed also the barren blackness of suns that had burnt out; but these were infre­quent, as this seemed to be a very young universe.

There were single suns with the orbital planets varying in number from two to twenty. There were double suns that revolved slowly about each other as on an invisible axis. There were triple suns that revolved slowly about one another—strange as it may seem—in perfect trihedral symmetry. I saw one quadruple sun: a dazzling white, a blue, a green, and a deep orange. The white and the blue circled each other on the horizontal plane while the green and the orange circled on the vertical plane, thus forming a perfect interlocking sys­tem. Around these four suns, in circular orbits, sped sixteen planets of varying size, the smallest on the inner orbits and the largest on the outer. The effect was a spinning, concave disc with the white-blue-green-orange rotating hub in the center. The rays from these four suns, as they bathed the rolling planets and were reflected back into space in many-hued magnificence, presented a sight both beauti­ful and weird.
I determined to alight on one of the planets of this quadruple sun as soon as my size permitted. I did not find it hard to maneuver to a certain extent; and eventually, when I had become much smaller, I stretched alongside this solar system, my length being as great as the diameter of the orbit of the outermost planet! Still I dared not come too close, for fear the gravity of my bulk would cause some tension in the orbital field.

I caught glimpses of the surface of the outer, or sixteenth planet, as it swung past me. Through rifts in the great billowing clouds I saw vast expanses of water, but no land; and then the planet was moving away from me, on its long journey around to the other side of the suns. I did not doubt that by the time it returned to my side I would be very much smaller, so I decided to move in a little closer and try to get a look at the fifteenth planet which was then on the opposite side but swinging around in my direction.

I had discovered that if I doubled up my limbs and thrust out violently in a direction opposite that in which I wished to move, I could make fairly good progress, though the effort was somewhat strenuous. In this manner I moved inward toward the sun-cluster, and by the time I had reached the approximate orbit of the fifteenth planet I had become much smaller—was scarcely one-third as long as the diameter of its orbit! The distance between the orbits of the sixteenth and fifteenth planets must have been about 2,500,000,000 miles, according to the old standards I had known; but to me the distance had seemed but a few hundred yards.

I waited there, and finally the planet hove into view from out of the glorious aurora of the suns. Nearer and nearer it swung in its circle, and as it approached I saw that its atmosphere was very clear, a deep saffron-color. It passed me a scant few yards away, turning lazily on its axis opposite the direction of flight. Here, too, as on planet sixteen, I saw a vast world of water. There was only one fairly large island and many scattered small ones, but I judged that fully nine-tenths of the surface area was ocean.
I moved on in to planet fourteen, which I had noticed was a beautiful golden-green color.

By the time I had maneuvered to the approximate fourteenth orbit I had become so small that the light of the central suns pained my eyes. When the planet came in sight I could easily see several large continents on the lighted side; and as the dark side turned to the suns, several more continents became visible. As it swung past me I made comparisons and observed that I was now about five times as large as the planet. When it came around again I would try to effect a landing. To attempt a contact with it now would likely prove dis­astrous to both it and myself.

As I waited there and became smaller my thoughts turned to the Professor. If his amazing theory of an infinite number of sub-uni­verses was true, then my adventure had hardly begun; wouldn’t begin until I alighted on the planet. “What would I find there? I did not doubt that the Professor, receiving my thought waves, was just as curious as I. Suppose there was life on this world—hostile life? I would face the dangers while the Professor sat in his laboratory far away. This was the first time that aspect of it occurred to me; it had probably never occurred to the Professor. Strange, too, how I thought of him as “far away.” Why, he could merely have reached out his hand and moved me, universe and all, on his laboratory table!

Another curious thought struck me: here I was waiting for a planet to complete its circle around the suns. To any beings who might exist on it, the elapsed time would represent a year; but to me it would only be a number of minutes.

At that, it returned sooner than I expected it, curving around to meet me. Its orbit, of course, was much smaller than those of the two outer planets. More minutes passed as it came closer and larger. As nearly as I could judge I was about one-fifth its size now. It skimmed past me, so closely that I could have reached out and brushed its atmosphere. And as it moved away I could feel its steady tugging, much as if I were a piece of metal being attracted to a magnet. Its speed did not decelerate in the least, but now I was moving along close behind it. It had “captured” me, just as I had hoped it would. I shoved in closer, and the gravity became a steady and stronger pull. I was “falling” toward it. I swung around so that my feet were closest to it, and they entered the atmosphere, where the golden-green touched the blackness of space. They swung down in a long arc and touched something solid. My “fall” toward the planet ceased. I was standing on one of the continents of this world.

V

So tall was I that the greatest part of my body still extended out into the blackness of space. In spite of the fact that the four suns were the distance of thirteen orbits away, they were of such intense brilliance now that to look directly at them would surely have blinded me. I looked far down my tapering length at the continent on which I stood. Even the multi-colored light reflected from the surface was dazzling to the eye. Too late I remembered the Professor’s warning to avoid the brighter suns. Close to the surface a few fleeting wisps of cloud drifted about my limbs.

As the planet turned slowly on its axis I of course moved with it, and shortly I found myself on the side away from the suns, in the planet’s shadow. I was thankful for this relief—but it was only temporary. Soon I swung around into the blinding light again. Then into the shadow, and again into the light. How many times this happened I do not know, but at last I was entirely within the planet’s atmosphere; here the rays of the sun were diffused, and the light less intense.

Miles below I could see but a vast expanse of yellow surface, stretching unbroken in every direction. As I looked far behind the curving horizon it seemed that I caught a momentary glimpse of tall, silvery towers of some far-off city; but I could not be sure, and when I looked again it had vanished.

I kept my eyes on that horizon, however, and soon two tiny red specks became visible against the yellow of the plain. Evidently they were moving toward me very rapidly, for even as I looked they became larger, and soon took shape as two blood-red spheres. Immediately I visioned them as some terrible weapons of warfare or destruction.

But as they came close to me and swerved up to where I towered high in the thin atmosphere, I could see that they were not solid at all, as I had supposed, but were gaseous, and translucent to a certain extent. Furthermore, they behaved in a manner that hinted strongly of intelligence. Without visible means of propulsion they swooped and circled about my head, to my utter discomfiture. When they came dangerously close to my eyes I raised my hand to sweep them away, but they darted quickly out of reach.

They did not approach me again, but remained there close together, pulsating in mid air. This queer pulsating of their tenuous substance gave me the impression that they were conferring together; and of course I was the object of their conference. Then they darted away in the direction whence they had come.

My curiosity was as great as theirs had seemed to be, and without hesitation I set out in the same direction. I must have covered nearly a mile at each step, but even so, these gaseous entities easily out-distanced me and were soon out of sight. I had no doubt that their destination was the city—if indeed it were a city I had glimpsed. The horizon was closer now and less curved, due to my decrease in height: I judged that I was barely five or six hundred feet tall now.

I had taken but a few hundred steps in the direction the two spheres had gone, when to my great surprise I saw them coming toward me again, this time accompanied by a score of—companions. I stopped in my tracks, and soon they came close and circled about my head. They were all about five feet in diameter, and of the same dark red color. For a minute they darted about as though studying me from every angle; then they systematically arranged themselves in a perfect circle around me. Thin streamers emanated from them, and merged, linking them together and closing the circle. Then other streamers reached slowly out toward me, wavering, cautious.

This, their manner of investigation, did not appeal to me in the least, and I swept my arms around furiously. Instantly all was wild confusion. The circle broke and scattered, the streamers snapped back and they were spheres again. They gathered in a group a short distance away and seemed to consider.

One, whose color had changed to a bright orange, darted apart from them and pulsated rapidly. As clearly as though words had been spoken, I comprehended. The bright orange color signified anger, and he was rebuking the others for their cowardice.

Led by the orange sphere they again moved closer to me, this time they had a surprise for me. A score of streamers flashed out quick as lightning, and cold blue flames spluttered where they touched me. Electric shocks ran through my arms, rendering them numb and helpless. Again they formed their circle around me, again the stream­ers emerged and completed the circle, and other streamers reached out caressingly. For a moment they flickered about my head, then merged, enveloping it in a cold red radiance. I felt no sensation at all at the touch, except that of cold.

The spheres began to pulsate again in the manner I had observed before, and immediately this pulsating began I felt tiny needlepoints of ice pierce my brain. A question became impinged upon my con­sciousness more clearly than would have been possible by spoken word:

 "Where do you come from?"

I was familiar with thought transference, had even practiced it to a certain extent, very often with astonishing success. When I heard —or received—that question, I tried hard to bring every atom of my consciousness to bear upon the circumstances that were the cause of my being there. When I had finished my mental narration and my mind relaxed from the tension I had put upon it, I received, the fol­lowing impressions:

"We receive no answer; your mind remains blank. You are alien, we have  never encountered another of your organism here. A most peculiar  organism indeed is one that becomes steadily smaller with­out apparent  reason. Why are you here, and where do you come from?" 

The icy fingers probed deeper and deeper into my brain, seeming to tear it tissue from tissue.

Again I tried, my mind focusing with the utmost clearness upon every detail, picturing my course from the very minute I entered the Professor’s laboratory to the present time. When I finished I was exhausted from the effort.

Again I received the impression: "You cannot bring your mind sufficiently into focus; we receive only fleeting shadows."

One of the spheres again changed to a bright color, and broke from the circle. I could almost imagine an angry shrug. The streamers relaxed their hold on my brain and began to withdraw—but not before I caught the fleeting impression from the orange one, who was apparently addressing the others:

"—very low mentality."

“You’re not so much yourself!” I said aloud. But of course such a crude method as speech did not register upon them. I wondered at my inability to establish thought communication with these beings. Either my brain was of such a size as to prevent them from receiving the impression (remember I was still a four or five hundred foot giant on this world), or their state of mentality was indeed so much higher than mine, that I was, to them, lower than the lowest savage. Possibly both, more probably the latter.

But they were determined to solve the mystery of my presence before I passed from their world, as I would surely do in a few hours at my rate of shrinkage. Their next move was to place themselves on each side of me in vertical rows extending from far down near the ground up to my shoulders. Again the luminous ribbons reached out and touched me at the various points. Then as at a given signal they rose high into the air, lifting me lightly as a feather! In perfect unison they sped towards their city beyond the horizon, carrying me perpendicularly with them! I marveled at the manner in which such gaseous entities as these could lift and propel such a material giant as myself. Their speed must have exceeded by far that of sound—though on all this planet there was no sound except the sound of my body swishing through the air.

In a very few minutes I sighted the city, which must have covered an area of a hundred miles square near the edge of a rolling green ocean. I was placed lightly on my feet at the very edge of the city, and once more the circle of spheres formed around my head and once more the cold tendrils of light probed my brain.

"You may walk at will about the city," came the thought, "accom­panied  by a few of us. You are to touch nothing whatever, or the pen­alty will  be extreme; your tremendous size makes your presence here among us  somewhat hazardous. When you have become much smaller we shall again  explore your mind, with somewhat different method, and learn your origin  and purpose. We realize that the great size of your brain was somewhat  of a handicap to us in our first attempt. We go now to prepare. We have  awaited your coming for years."

Leaving only a few there as my escort—or guard—the rest of the spheres sped toward a great domed building that rose from a vast plaza in the center of the city.

I was very much puzzled as to their last statement. For a moment I stood there wondering what they could have meant—”we have awaited your coming for years.” Then trusting that this and other things would be answered in the due course of their investigation, I entered the city.

It was not a strange city in so far as architecture was concerned, but it was a beautiful one. I marveled that it could have been con­ceived and constructed by these confluent globules of gas who at first glance seemed anything but intelligent, reasoning beings.

Tall as I was, the buildings towered up to four and five times my height, invariably ending in domed roofs. There was no sign of a spire or angle as far as my eye could see; apparently they grated harshly on the senses of these beings. The entire plan of the city was of vast sweeping curves and circular patterns, and the effect was striking. There were no preconceived streets or highways, nor connecting spans between buildings, for there was no need of them. The air was the natural habitable element of this race, and I did not see a one of them ever touch the ground or any surface.

They even came to rest in mid air, with a slow spinning motion. Everywhere I passed among them they paused, spinning, to observe me in apparent curiosity, then went on about their business, whatever it was. None ever approached me except my guards.

For several hours I wandered about in this manner, and finally when I was much smaller I was bade to walk towards the central plaza.

In the circular domed building the others awaited my coming, gathered about a dais surmounted by a huge oval transparent screen of glass or some similar substance. This time only one of the spheres made contact with my brain, and I received the following thought:

"Watch."

The screen became opaque, and a vast field of white came into view.

"The great nebula in which this planet is but an infinitesimal speck," came the thought.

The mass drifted almost imperceptibly across the screen, and the thought continued:

"As you see it now, so it appeared to us through our telescopes  centuries ago. Of course the drifting motion of the nebula as a whole  was not perceptible, and what you see is a chemically recorded  reproduction of the view, which has been speeded up to make the motion  visible on the screen. Watch closely now."

The great mass of the nebula had been quiescent, but as I watched, it began to stir and swirl in a huge spiral motion, and a vast dark shadow was thrown across the whole scene. The shadow seemed to recede—no, grew smaller—and I could see that it was not a shadow but a huge bulk. This bulk was entering the nebula, causing it to swirl and expand as millions of stars were displaced and shoved out­ward.

The thought came again: "The scene has been speeded up a million-fold.  The things you see taking place actually transpired over a great number  of years; our scientists watched the phenomenon in great wonder, and  many were the theories as to the cause of it. You are viewing yourself  as you entered our nebula."

I watched in a few minutes the scene before me, as these sphere creatures had watched it over a period of years; saw myself grow smaller, gradually approach the system of the four suns and finally the gold-green planet itself. Abruptly the screen cleared.

"So we watched and waited your coming for years, not knowing what you  were or whence you came. We are still very much puzzled. You become  steadily smaller, and that we cannot understand. We must hurry. Relax.  Do not interfere with our process by trying to think back to the  beginning, as you did before; it is all laid bare to us in the recesses  of your brain. Simply relax, think of nothing at all, watch the screen."

I tried to do as he said, again I felt the cold probing tendrils in my brain, and a lethargy came over my mind. Shadows flashed across the screen, then suddenly a familiar scene leaped into view: the Professor’s laboratory as I had last seen it, on the night of my departure. No sooner had this scene cleared than I entered the room, exactly as I had on that night. I saw myself approach the table close behind the Professor, saw him standing as he had stood, staring out at the night sky; saw his lips move.

The spheres about me crowded close to the screen, seemed to hang intent on every motion that passed upon it, and I sensed great excite­ment among them. I judged that the one who was exploring my mind, if not all of them, were somehow cognizant not only of the words the Professor and I spoke in those scenes, but of their mean­ing as well.

I could almost read the Professor’s lips as he spoke. I saw the utter amazement, then incredulity, then disbelief, on my features as he propounded his theory of macrocosmic worlds and still greater macro­cosmic worlds. I saw our parley of words, and finally his lunge toward me and felt again the plunge of the needle into my arm.

As this happened the spheres around me stirred excitedly.

I saw myself become smaller, smaller, to be finally lifted onto the block of Rehyllium-X where I became still smaller and disappeared. I saw my meeting with the germ, and my wild flight; my plunge into the abyss, and my flight down through the darkness, during which time the entire screen before me became black. The screen was slightly illuminated again as I traveled along with the great masses all around me, and then gradually across the screen spread the huge nebula, the same one these sphere creatures had seen through their telescopes centuries ago.

Again the screen cleared abruptly, became transparent.

"The rest we know," came the thought of the one who had searched my  brain. "The rest the screen has already shown. He—the one who invented  the—what he called ’Shrinx’—he is a very great man. Yours has indeed  been a marvelous experience, and one which has hardly begun. We envy  you, lucky being; and at the same time we are sorry for you. Anyway, it  is fortunate for us that you chose our planet on which to alight, but  soon you will pass away even as you came, and that we cannot, and would  not, prevent. In a very few minutes you will once more become of  infinitesimal size and pass into a still smaller universe. We have  microscopes powerful enough to permit us to barely glimpse this smaller  atomic universe, and we shall watch your further progress into the  unknown until you are gone from our sight forever."

I had been so interested in the familiar scenes on the screen that I had lost all conception of my steady shrinkage. I was now very much smaller than those spheres around me.

I was as interested in them as they were in me, and I tried to flash the following thought:

"You say that you envy me, and are sorry for me. Why should that be?"

The thought came back immediately:

"We cannot answer that. But it is  true; wonderful as are the things you will see in realms yet to come,  nevertheless you are to be pitied. You cannot understand at present, but  some day you will."

I flashed another thought:

"Your organism, which is known to me as  gaseous, seems as strange to me as mine, a solid, must seem to you. You  have mentioned both telescopes and microscopes, and I cannot conceive  how beings such as yourselves, without organs of sight, can number  astronomy and microscopy among the sciences."
"Your own organs of sight," came back the answer, "which you call  ’eyes,’ are not only superfluous, but are very crude sources of  perception. I think you will grant that loss of them would be a terrible  and permanent handicap. Our own source of perception is not con­fined  to any such conspicuous organs, but envelops the entire outer surface of  our bodies. We have never had organs and appendages such as those with  which you are endowed so profusely, for we are of different substance;  we merely extend any part of our bodies in any direction at will. But  from close study of your structure, we conclude that your various organs  and appendages are very crude. I predict that by slow evolution of your  own race, such frailties will disappear entirely."
"Tell me more about your own race," I went on eagerly.
 "To tell everything there is to tell," came the answer, "would take much  time; and there is little time left. We have a very high sociological  system, but one which is not without its faults, of course. We have  delved deep into the sciences and gone far along the lines of fine  arts—but all of our accomplishments along these lines would no doubt  appear very strange to you. You have seen our city. It is by no means  the largest, nor the most important, on the planet. When you alighted  comparatively near, reports were sent out and all of our important  scientists hurried here. We were not afraid because of your presence,  but rather, were cautious, for we did not know what manner of being you  were. The two whom you first saw, were sent to observe you. They had  both been guilty of a crime against the community, and were given the  choice of the punishment they deserved, or of going out to investigate  the huge creature that had dropped from the sky. They accepted the  latter course, and for their bravery—for it was bravery—they have been  exonerated."

VI

I would have liked greatly to ask more questions, for there were many phases that puzzled me; but I was becoming so very small that further communication was impossible. I was taken to a labora­tory and placed upon the slide of a microscope of strange and intricate construction and my progress continued unabated down into a still smaller atomic universe.

The method was the same as before. The substance became open and porous, spread out into open space dotted with the huge masses which in turn became porous and resolved into far flung nebulae.

I entered one of the nebulae and once more star-systems swung all around me. This time I approached a single sun of bright yellow hue, around which swung eight planets. I maneuvered to the outer­most one, and when my size permitted, made contact with it.

I was now standing on an electron, one of billions forming a microscopic slide that existed in a world which was in turn only an electron in a block of metal on a laboratory table!

Soon I reached the atmosphere, and miles below me I could see only wide patches of yellow and green. But as I came nearer to the surface more of the details became discernible. Almost at my feet a wide yellow river wound sluggishly over a vast plateau which fell suddenly away into a long line of steep precipices. At the foot of these precipices stretched a great green expanse of steaming jungle, and farther beyond a great ocean, smooth as green glass, curved to the horizon. A prehistoric world of jungles and great fern-like growths and sweltering swamps and cliffs. Not a breeze stirred and nowhere was there sight of any living thing.
I was standing in the jungle close to the towering cliffs, and for a half mile in every direction the trees and vegetation were trampled into the soil where my feet had swung down and contacted.

Now I could see a long row of caves just above a ledge half way up the side of the cliff. And I did not doubt that in each cave some being was peering furtively out at me. Even as I watched I saw a tiny figure emerge and walk out on the ledge. He was very cautious, ready to dash back into the cave at any sign of hostility on my part, and his eyes never left me. Seeing that nothing happened, others took heart and came out, and soon the ledge was lined with tiny figures who talked excitedly among themselves and gesticulated wildly in my direction. My coming must surely have aroused all their super­stitious fears—a giant descending out of the skies to land at their very feet.

I must have been nearly a mile from the cliff, but even at that distance I could see that the figures were barbarians, squat and thick muscled, and covered with hair; they were four limbed and stood erect, and all carried crude weapons.

One of them raised a bow as tall as himself and let fly a shaft at me—evidently as an expression of contempt or bravado, for he must have known that the shaft couldn’t reach half the distance. Immediately one who seemed a leader among them felled the miscreant with a single blow. This amused me. Evidently their creed was to leave well enough alone.

Experimentally I took a step toward them, and immediately a long line of bows sprang erect and scores of tiny shafts arched high in my direction to fall into the jungle far in front of me. A warning to keep my distance.

I could have strode forward and swept the lot of them from the ledge; but wishing to show them that my intentions were quite peaceful, I raised my hands and took several backward steps. Another futile volley of arrows. I was puzzled, and stood still; and as long as I did not move neither did they.

The one who had seemed the leader threw himself down flat and, shielding his eyes from the sun, scanned the expanse of jungle below. Then they seemed to talk among themselves again, and gestured not at me, but at the jungle. Then I comprehended. Evi­dently a hunting party was somewhere in that jungle which spread out around my feet—probably returning to the caves, for already it was nearing dusk, the sun casting weird conflicting streaks across the horizon. These people of the caves were in fear that I would move around too freely and perhaps trample the returning party under foot.

So thinking, I stood quietly in the great barren patch I had levelled, and sought to peer into the dank growth below me. This was nearly impossible, however, for clouds of steam hung low over the tops of the trees.

But presently my ears caught a faint sound, as of shouting, far below me, and then I glimpsed a long single file of the barbarian hunters running at full speed along a well beaten game path. They burst into the very clearing in which I stood, and stopped short in surprise, evidently aware for the first time of my gigantic presence on their world. They let fall the poles upon which were strung the carcasses of the day’s hunt, cast but one fearful look up to where I towered, then as one man fell flat upon the ground in abject terror.

All except one. I doubt if the one, who burst from the tangle of trees last of all, even saw me, so intent was he in glancing back into the darkness from which he fled. At any rate he aroused his companions with a few angry, guttural syllables, and pointed back along the path.

At that moment there floated up to me a roar that lingered loud and shuddering in my ears. At quick instructions from their leader the hunters picked up their weapons and formed a wide semi-circle before the path where they had emerged. The limb of a large tree overhung the path at this point, and the leader clambered up some overhanging vines and was soon crouched upon it. One of the warriors fastened a vine to a large clumsy looking weapon, and the one in the tree drew it up to him. The weapon consisted merely of a large pointed stake some eight feet long, with two heavy stones fastened securely to it at the half way point. The one in the tree carefully balanced this weapon on the limb, directly over the path, point downward. The semicircle of hunters crouched behind stout lances set at an angle in the ground.

Another shuddering roar floated up to me, and then the beast appeared. As I caught sight of it I marvelled all the more at the courage of these puny barbarians. From ground to shoulder the beast must have measured seven feet tall, and was fully twenty feet long. Each of its six legs ended in a wide, horny claw that could have ripped any of the hunters from top to bottom. Its long tapering tail was horny too, giving me the impression that the thing was at least partly reptilian; curved fangs fully two feet long, in a decidedly animal head, offset that impression, however.

For a long moment the monstrosity stood there, tail switching ceaselessly, glaring in puzzlement out upon the circle of puny beings who dared to confront it. Then, as its tail ceased switching and it tensed for the spring, the warrior on the limb above launched his weapon—launched it and came hurtling down with it, feet pressed hard against the heavy stone balance!

Whether the beast below heard some sound or whether a sixth sense warned it, I do not know; but just in time it leaped to one side with an agility belied by its great bulk, and the pointed stake drove deep into the ground, leaving the one who had ridden it lying there stunned.

The beast uttered a snarl of rage; its six legs sprawled outward, its great belly touched the ground. Then it sprang out upon the circle of crouching hunters. Lances snapped at the impact, and the circle broke and fled for the trees. But two of them never rose from the ground, and the lashing homed tail flattened another before he had taken four steps.

The scene took place in a matter of seconds as I towered there looking down upon it, fascinated. The beast whirled toward the fleeing ones and in another moment the destruction would have been terrible, for they could not possibly have reached safety..

Breaking the spell that was on me I swung my hand down in a huge arc even as the beast sprang for a second time. I slapped it in mid air, flattening it against the ground as I would have flattened a bothersome insect. It did not twitch a muscle, and a dark red stain seeped outward from where it lay.

The natives stopped in their flight, for the sound of my hand when I slapped the huge animal had been loud. They jabbered noisily among themselves, but fearfully kept their distance, when they saw me crouched there over the flattened enemy who had been about to wreak destruction among them.

Only one had seen the entire happening. He who had plunged downward from the tree was only momentarily stunned; he had risen dizzily to his feet as the animal charged out among his companions, and had been witness to the whole thing.

Glancing half contemptuously at the others, he now approached me. It must have taken a great deal of courage on his part, for, crouched down as I was, I still towered above the tallest trees. He looked for a moment at the dead beast, then gazed up at me in reverent awe. Falling prone, he beat his head upon the ground several times, and the others followed his example.

Then they all came forward to look at the huge animal.

From their talk and gestures, I gathered that they wanted to take it to the caves; but it would take ten of the strongest of them to even lift it, and there was still a mile stretch of jungle between them and the cliffs.

I decided that I would take it there for them if that was their want. Reaching out, I picked up the leader, the brave one, very gently. Placing him in the cupped hollow of my hand, I swung him far up to the level of my eyes. I pointed at the animal I had slain, then pointed toward the cliffs. But his eyes were closed tightly as if his last moment had come, and he trembled in every limb. He was a brave hunter, but this experience was too much. I lowered him to the ground unharmed, and the others crowded around him excitedly. He would soon recover from his fright, and no doubt some night around the camp fires he would relate this wonderful experience to a bunch of skeptical grandchildren.

Picking the animal up by its tapering tail I strode through the jungle with it, flattening trees at every step and leaving a wide path behind me. I neared the cliffs in a few steps, and those upon the ledge fled into the caves. I placed the huge carcass on the ledge, which was scarcely as high as my shoulders, then turned and strode away to the right, intending to explore the terrain beyond.

For an hour, I walked, passing other tribes of cliff dwellers who fled at my approach. Then the jungle ended in a point by the sea and the line of cliffs melted down into a rocky coast.

It had become quite dark now, there were no moons and the stars seemed dim and far away. Strange night cries came from the jungle, and to my left stretched wide, tangled marshes through which floated vague phosphorescent shapes. Behind me tiny fires sprang up on the face of the cliffs, a welcome sight, and I turned back toward them. I was now so much smaller that I felt extremely uneasy at being alone and unarmed at night on a strange planet abounding in monstrosities.

I had taken only a few steps when I felt, rather than heard, a rush of wings above and behind me. I threw myself flat upon the ground, and just in time, for the great shadowy shape of some huge night-creature swept down and sharp talons raked my back. I arose with apprehension after a few moments, and saw the creature winging its way back low over the marshes. Its wing spread must have been forty feet. I reached the shelter of the cliffs and stayed close to them thereafter.

I came to the first of the shelving ledges where the fires burned, but it was far above me now. I was a tiny being crouched at the base of the cliffs. I, an alien on this world, yet a million years ahead of these barbarians in evolution, peered furtively out into the darkness where glowing eyes and half-seen shapes moved on the edge of the encroaching jungle; and safe in their caves high above me were those so low in the state of evolution that had only the rudiments of a spoken language and were only beginning to learn the value of fire. In another million years perhaps a great civilization would cover this entire globe: a civilization rising by slow degrees from the mire and the mistakes and the myths of the dawn of time. And doubtlessly one of the myths would concern a great god-like figure that descended from the skies, leveled great trees in its stride, saved a famous tribe from destruction by slaying huge enemy beasts, and then disappeared forever during the night. And great men, great thinkers, of that future civilization would say:

"Fie! Preposterous! A stupid myth."

But at the present time the godlike figure which slew enemy beasts by a slap of the hand was scarcely a foot high, and sought a place where he might be safe from a possible attack by those same beasts. At last I found a small crevice, which I squeezed into and felt much safer than I had out in the open.

And very soon I was so small that I would have been unnoticed by any of the huge animals that might venture my way.

VII

At last I stood on a single grain of sand, and other grains towered up like smooth mountains all around me. And in the next few minutes I experienced the change for the third time—the change from microscopic being on a gigantic world to a gigantic being floating amid an endless universe of galaxies. I became smaller, the distance between galaxies widened, solar systems approached and neared the orbit of the outermost planet, I received a very unexpected, but very pleasant, surprise. Instead of myself landing upon one of the planets —and while I was yet far too large to do so—the inhabitants of this system were coming out to land on me!
There was no doubt about it. From the direction of the inner planets a tapering silvery projectile moved toward me with the speed of light. This was indeed interesting, and I halted my inward progress to await developments.

In a few minutes the space rocketship was very close. It circled about me once, then with a great rush of flame and gases from the prow to break the fall, it swooped in a long curve and landed grace­fully on my chest! I felt no more jar than if a fly had alighted on me. As I watched it, a square section swung outward from the hull and a number of things emerged. I say “things” because they were in no manner human, although they were so tiny that I could barely dis­tinguish them as minute dots of gold. A dozen of them gathered in a group a short distance away from the space-ship.

After a few moments, to my surprise, they spread huge golden wings, and I gasped at the glistening beauty of them. They scattered in various directions, flying low over the surface of my body. From this I reasoned that I must be enveloped in a thin layer of atmosphere, as were the planets. These bird creatures were an exploring party sent out from one of the inner planets to investigate the new large world which had entered their system and was approaching dangerously close to their own planet.

But, on second thought, they must have been aware—or soon would be—that I was not a world at all, but a living, sentient being. My longitudinal shape should make that apparent, besides the move­ments of my limbs. At any rate they displayed unprecedented daring by coming out to land on me. I could have crushed their frail ship at the slightest touch or flung it far out into the void beyond their reach.

I wished I could see one of the winged creatures at closer range, but none landed on me again; having traversed and circled me in every direction they returned to the space-ship and entered it.

The section swung closed, gases roared from the stern tubes and the ship swooped out into space again and back toward the sun.

What tiding would they bear to their planet? Doubtless they would describe me as an inconceivably huge monstrosity of outer space. Their scientists would wonder whence I came; might even guess at the truth. They would observe me anxiously through their telescopes. Very likely they would be in fear that I would invade or wreck their world, and would make preparations to repulse me if I came too near.

In spite of these probabilities I continued my slow progress toward the inner planets, determined to see and if possible land upon the planet of the bird creatures. A civilization that had achieved space travel must be a marvelous civilization indeed.

As I made my way through space between the planets by means of my grotesque exertions, I reflected upon another phase. By the time I reached the inner planets I would be so much smaller that I could not determine which of the planets was the one I sought, unless I saw more of the space ships and could follow their direction. Another interesting thought was that the inner planets would have sped around the green sun innumerable times, and years would have passed before I reached there. They would have ample time to prepare for my coming, and might give me a fierce reception if they had many more of the space ships such as the one I had seen.

And they did indeed have many more of them, as I discovered after an interminable length of time during which I had moved ever closer to the sun. A red-tinged planet swung in a wide curve from behind the blazing green of the sun, and I awaited its approach. After a few minutes it was so close that I could see a moon encircling the planet, and as it came still nearer I saw the rocket ships.

This, then, was the planet I sought. But I was puzzled. They surely could not have failed to notice my approach, and I had ex­pected to see a host of ships lined up in formidable array. I saw a host of them all right, hundreds of them, but they were not pointed in my direction at all; indeed, they seemed not to heed me in the least, although I must have loomed large as their planet came nearer.

Perhaps they had decided, after all, that I was harmless.

But what seemed more likely to me was that they were confronted with an issue of vastly more importance than my close proximity. For as I viewed the space ships they were leaving the atmosphere of their planet, and were pointing toward the single satellite. Row upon row, mass upon endless mass they moved outward, hundreds, thousands of them. It seemed as though the entire population was moving en masse to the satellite!

My curiosity was immediately aroused. ’What circumstances or condition would cause a highly civilized race to abandon their planet and flee to the satellite? Perhaps, if I learned, I would not want to alight on that planet. . . .

Impatiently I awaited its return as it moved away from me on its circuit around the sun. The minutes seemed long, but at last it approached again from the opposite direction, and I marvelled at the relativity of size and space and time. A year had passed on that planet and satellite, and many things might have transpired since I had last seen them.

The satellite swung between the planet and myself, and even from my point of disadvantage I could see that many things had indeed transpired. The bird people were building a protective shell around the satellite! Protection—from what? The shell seemed to be of dull gray metal, and already covered half the globe. On the uncovered side I saw land and rolling oceans. Surely, I thought, they must have the means of producing artificial light; but somehow it seemed blasphemous to forever bar the surface from the fresh pure light of the green sun. In a manner I felt sorry for them in their circumstances. But they had their space ships, and in time could move to the vast unexplored fields that the heavens offered.

More than ever I was consumed with curiosity, but was still too large to attempt a contact with the planet, and I let it pass me for a second time. I judged that when it came around again I would be sufficiently small for its gravity to “capture” me and sufficiently large that the “fall” to the surface would in no means be dangerous; and I was determined to alight.

Another wait of minutes, more minutes this time because I was smaller and time for me was correspondingly longer. When the two spheres hove into view again I saw that the smaller one was now entirely clad in its metal jacket, and the smooth unbroken surface shimmered boldly in the green glare of the sun. Beneath that barren metal shell were the bird people with their glorious golden wings, their space ships, their artificial light, and atmosphere, and civilization. I had but a glance for the satellite, however; my attention was for the planet rushing ever closer to me.

Everything passed smoothly and without mishap. I was becoming an experienced “planet hopper.” Its gravity caught me in an unre­lenting grip, and I let my limbs rush downward first in their long curve, to land with a slight jar on solid earth far below.

Bending low, I sought to peer into the murky atmosphere and see something of the nature of this world. For a minute my sight could not pierce the half gloom, but gradually the surface became visible. First, I followed my tapering limbs to where they had contacted. As nearly as I could ascertain from my height, I was standing in the midst of what seemed to be a huge mass of crushed and twisted metal!

Now, I thought to myself, I have done it. I have let myself in for it now. I have wrecked something, some great piece of machinery it seems, and the inhabitants will not take the matter lightly. Then I thought: the inhabitants? Who? Not the bird people, for they have fled, have barricaded themselves on the satellite.

Again I sought to pierce the gloom of the atmosphere, and by slow degrees more details became visible. At first my gaze only encompassed a few miles, then more, and more, until at last the view extended from horizon to horizon and included nearly an entire hemisphere.

Slowly the view cleared and slowly comprehension came; and as full realization dawned upon me, I became momentarily panic stricken. I thought insanely of leaping outward into space again, away from the planet, breaking the gravity that held me; but the opposite force of my spring could likely send the planet careening out of its orbit and it and all the other planets and myself might go plunging toward the sun. No, I had put my feet on this planet and I was here to stay.

But I did not feel like staying, for what a sight I had glimpsed! As far as I could see in every direction were huge, grotesque metal structures and strange mechanical contrivances. The thing that terrified me was that these machines were scurrying about the surface all in apparent confusion, seemed to cover the entire globe, seemed to have a complete civilization of their own, and nowhere was there the slightest evidence of any human occupancy, no controlling force, no intelligence, nothing save the machines. And I could not bring my­self to believe that they were possessed of intelligence!

Yet as I descended ever closer to the surface I could see that there was no confusion at all as it had seemed at first glance, but rather was there a simple, efficient, systematic order of things. Even as I watched, two strange mechanisms strode toward me on great jointed tripods, and stopped at my very feet. Long, jointed metal arms, with claw-like fixtures at the ends, reached out with uncanny accuracy and precision and began to clear away the twisted debris around my feet. As I watched them I admired the efficiency of their construction. No needless intricacies, no superfluous parts, only the tripods for movement and the arms for clearing. When they had finished they went away, and other machines came on wheels, the debris was lifted by means of cranes and hauled away.

I watched in stupefaction the uncanny activities below and around me. There was no hurry, no rush, but every machine from the tiniest to the largest, from the simplest to the most complicated, had a certain task to perform, and performed it directly and completely, accurately and precisely. There were machines on wheels, on treads, on tracks, on huge multi-jointed tripods, winged machines that flew clumsily through the air, and machines of a thousand other kinds and variations.

Endless chains of machines delved deep into the earth, to emerge with loads of ore which they deposited, to descend again.

Huge hauling machines came and transported the ore to roaring mills.

Inside the mills machines melted the ore, rolled and cut and fashioned the steel.

Other machines builded and assembled and adjusted intricate parts, and when the long process was completed the result was—more machines! They rolled or ambled or flew or walked or rattled away under their own power, as the case might be.

Some went to assist in the building of huge bridges across rivers and ravines.

Diggers went to level down forests and obstructing hills, or went away to the mines.

Others built adjoining mills and factories.

Still others erected strange, complicated towers thousands of feet high, and the purpose of these skeleton skyscrapers I could not de­termine. Even as I watched, the supporting base of one of them weakened and buckled, and the entire huge edifice careened at a perilous angle. Immediately a host of tiny machines rushed to the scene. Sharp white flames cut through the metal in a few seconds, and the tower toppled with a thunderous crash to the ground.

Again the white-flame machines went to work and cut the metal into re­movable sections, and hoisters and haulers came and removed them. Within fifteen minutes another building was being erected on the exact spot.

Occasionally something would go wrong—some worn-out part ceased to function and a machine would stop in the middle of its task. Then it would be hauled away to repair shops, where it would eventually emerge good as new.

I saw two of the winged machines collide in mid air, and metal rained from the sky. A half dozen of the tripod clearing machines came from a half dozen directions and the metal was raked into huge piles; then came the cranes and hauling machines.

A great vertical wheel with slanting blades on the rim spun swiftly on a shaft that was borne forward on treads. The blades cut through trees and soil and stone as it bore onward toward the near-by mountains. It slowed down, but did not stop, and at length a straight wide path connected the opposite valley. Behind the wheel came the tripods, clearing the way of all debris, and behind them came ma­chines that laid down long strips of metal, completing the perfect road.

Everywhere small lubricating machines moved about, periodically supplying the others with the necessary oil that insured smooth movement.

Gradually the region surrounding me was being levelled and cleared, and a vast city was rising—a city of meaningless, towering, ugly metal—a city covering hundreds of miles between the mountains and sea—a city of machines—ungainly, lifeless—yet purposeful—for what? What?

In the bay, a line of towers rose from the water like fingers point­ing at the sky. Beyond the bay and into the open sea they extended. Now the machines were connecting the towers with wide network and spans. A bridge! They were spanning the ocean, connecting the continents—a prodigious engineering feat. If there were not already machines on the other side, there soon would be. No, not soon. The task was gigantic, fraught with failures, almost impossible. Almost? A world of machines could know no almost. Perhaps other machines did occupy the other side, had started the bridge from there, and they would meet in the middle. And for what purpose?

A great wide river came out of the mountains and went winding toward the sea. For some reason a wall was being constructed diagonally across the river and beyond, to change its course. For some reason—or unreason.

Unreason! That was it! Why, why, why, I cried aloud in an anguish that was real; why all of this? ’What purpose, what meaning, what benefit? A city, a continent, a world, a civilization of machines!

Somewhere on this world there must be the one who caused all this, the one intelligence, human or unhuman, who controls it. My time here is limited, but I have time to seek him out, and if I find him I shall drag him out and feed him to his own machines and put a stop to this diabolism for all time!

I strode along the edge of the sea for five hundred miles, and rounding a sharp point of land, stopped abruptly. There before me stretched a city, a towering city of smooth white stone and archi­tectural beauty. Spacious parks were dotted with winged colonnades and statues, and the buildings were so designed that everything pointed upward, seemed poised for flight.

That was one half of the city.

The other half was a ruinous heap of shattered white stone, of buildings levelled to the ground by the machines, which were even then intent on reducing the entire city to a like state.

As I watched I saw scores of the flame-machines cutting deep into the stone and steel supporting base of one of the tallest buildings. Two of the ponderous air machines, trailing a wide mesh-metal network between them, rose clumsily from the ground on the outskirts of the city. Straight at the building they flew, and passed one on each side of it. The metal netting struck, jerked the machines backward, and the tangled mass of them plunged to the ground far below. But the building, already weakened at the base, swayed far forward, then back, hung poised for a long shuddering moment and then toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash amid a cloud of dust and debris and tangled framework.

The flame-machines moved on to another building, and on a slope near the outskirts two more of the air machines waited. .

Sickened at the purposeless vandalism of it all, I turned inland; and everywhere I strode were the machines, destroying and building, leveling to the ground the deserted cities of the bird people and building up their own meaningless civilization of metal.

At last I came to a long range of mountains which towered up past the level of my eyes as I stood before them. In two steps I stood on the top of these mountains and looked out upon a vast plain dotted everywhere with the grotesque machine-made cities. The machines had made good progress. About two hundred miles to the left a great metal dome rose from the level of the plain, and I made my way toward it, striding unconcerned and recklessly amidst the ma­chines that moved everywhere around my feet.

As I neared the domed structure a row of formidable-looking mechanisms, armed with long spikes, rose up to bar my path. I kicked out viciously at them and in a few minutes they were reduced to tangled scrap, though I received a number of minor scratches in the skirmish. Others of the spiked machines rose up to confront me with each step I took, but I strode through them, kicking them to one side, and at last I stood before an entrance-way in the side of the huge dome. Stooping, I entered, and once inside my head almost touched the roof.

I had hoped to find here what I sought, and I was not disap­pointed. There in the center of the single spacious room was The Machine of all Machines; the Cause of it All; the Central Force, the Ruler, the Controlling Power of all the diabolism running riot over the face of the planet. It was roughly circular, large and ponderous. It was bewilderingly complicated, a maze of gears, wheels, switchboards, lights, levers, buttons, tubing, and intricacies beyond my comprehension. There were circular tiers, and on each tier smaller separate units moved, performing various tasks, attending switchboards, pressing buttons, pulling levers. The result was a throbbing, rhythmic, purposeful unit. I could imagine invisible waves going out in every direction.

I wondered what part of this great machine was vulnerable. Silly thought. No part. Only it—itself. It was The Brain.

The Brain. The Intelligence. I had searched for it, and I had found it. There it was before me. Well, I was going to smash it. I looked around for some kind of weapon, but finding none, I strode for­ward bare-handed.

Immediately a square panel lighted up with a green glow, and I knew that The Brain was aware of my intent. I stopped. An odd sen­sation swept over me, a feeling of hate, of menace. It came from the machine, pervaded the air in invisible waves.

“Nonsense,” I thought; “it is but a machine after all. A very complicated one, yes, perhaps even possessed of intelligence; but it only has control over other machines, it cannot harm me.”

Again I took a resolute step forward.

The feeling of menace became stronger, but I fought back my ap­prehension and advanced recklessly. I had almost reached the ma­chine when a wall of crackling blue flame leaped from floor to roof. If I had taken one more step I would have been caught in it.

The menace, and hate, and imagined rage at my escape, rolled out from the machine in ponderous, almost tangible waves, engulfing me, and I retreated hastily.

I walked back toward the mountains. After all, this was not my world—not my universe. I would soon be so small that my presence amid the machines would be extremely dangerous, and the tops of the mountains was the only safe place. I would have liked to smash The Brain and put an end to it all, but anyway, I thought, the bird people were now safe on the satellite, so why not leave this lifeless world to the machines?

It was twilight when I reached the mountains, and from a high grassy slope—the only peaceful place on the entire planet, I im­agined—I looked out upon the plain. Tiny lights appeared as the machines moved about, carrying on their work, never resting. The clattering and clanking of them floated faintly up to me and made me glad that I was a safe distance from it all.

As I stood out toward the dome that housed The Brain, I saw what I had failed to see before. A large globe rested there on a frame-work, and there seemed to be unusual activity around it.

A vague apprehension tightened around my brain as I saw ma­chines enter this globe, and I was half prepared for what happened next. The globe rose lightly as a feather, sped upward with increasing speed, out of the atmosphere and into space, where, as a tiny speck, it darted and maneuvered with perfect ease. Soon it reappeared, floated gracefully down upon the framework again, and the machines that had mechanically directed its flight disembarked from it.

The machines had achieved space travel! My heart sickened with sudden realization of what that meant. They would build others—were already building them. They would go to other worlds, and the nearest one was the satellite . . . . encased in its protective metal shell . . . .

But then I thought of the white-flame machines that I had seen cut through stone and metal in a few seconds . . . .

The bird people would no doubt put up a valiant fight. But as I compared their rocket projectiles against the efficiency of the globe I had just seen, I had little doubt as to the outcome. They would eventually be driven out into space again to seek a new world, and the machines would take over the satellite, running riot as they had done here. They would remain there just as long as The Brain so desired, or until there was no more land for conquest. Already this planet was over-run, so they were preparing to leave.

The Brain. An intricate, intelligent mechanical brain, glorying in its power, drunk with conquest. Where had it originated? The bird people must have been the indirect cause, and no doubt they were beginning to realize the terrible menace they had loosed on the universe.

I tried to picture their civilization as it had been long ago before this thing had come about. I pictured a civilization in which machinery played a very important part. I pictured the development of this machinery until the time when it relieved them of many tasks. I imagined how they must have designed their machines with more and more intricacy, more and more finesse, until only a few persons were needed in control. And then the great day would come, the supreme day, when mechanical parts would take the place of those few.

That must have indeed been a day of triumph. Machines supply­ing their every necessity, attending to their every want, obeying their every whim at the touch of a button. That must have been Utopia achieved!

But it had proven to be a bitter Utopia. They had gone forward blindly and recklessly to achieve it, and unknowingly they had gone a step too far. Somewhere, amid the machines they supposed they had under their control, they were imbued with a spark of intelli­gence. One of the machines added unto itself—perhaps secretly; built and evolved itself into a terribly efficient unit of inspired in­telligence. And guided by that intelligence, other machines were built and came under its control. The rest must have been a matter of course. Revolt and easy victory.

So I pictured the evolution of the mechanical brain that even now was directing activities from down there under its metal dome.

And the metal shell around the satellite—did not that mean that the bird people were expecting an invasion? Perhaps, after all, this was not the original planet of the bird people; perhaps space travel was not an innovation among the machines. Perhaps it was on one of the far inner planets near the sun that the bird people had achieved the Utopia that proved to be such a terrible nemesis; perhaps they had moved to the next planet, never dreaming that the machines could follow; but the machines had followed after a number of years, the bird people being always driven outward, the machines always following at leisure in search of new spheres of conquest. And finally the bird people had fled to this planet, and from it to the satellite; and realizing that in a few years the machines would come again in all their invincibility, they had then ensconced themselves beneath the shell of metal.

At any rate: they did not flee to a far-away safe spot in the universe as they could have very easily done. Instead, they stayed; always one sphere ahead of the marauding machines, they must always be plan­ning a means of wiping out the spreading evil they had loosed.

It might be that the shell around the satellite was in some way a clever trap! But so thinking, I remembered again the white-flame machines and the deadly efficiency of the globe I had seen, and then my hopes faded away.

Perhaps some day they would eventually find a way to check the spreading menace. But on the other extreme, the machines might spread out to other solar systems, other galaxies, until some day, a billion years hence, they would occupy every sphere in this uni­verse . . . .

Such were my thoughts as I lay prone there upon the grassy slope and looked down into the plain, down upon the ceaseless clatter and the ceaseless moving of lights in the dark. I was very small now; soon, very soon, I would leave this world.

My last impression was of a number of the space globes, barely discernible in the dusk below; and among them towering up high and round, was one much larger than the others, and I could guess which machine would occupy that globe.

And my last thought was a regret that I hadn’t made a more de­termined effort to destroy that malicious mechanism, The Brain.
So I passed from this world of machines—the world that was an electron on a grain of sand that existed on a prehistoric world that was but an electron on a microscope-slide that existed on a world that was but an electron in a piece of Rehyllium-X on the Professor’s laboratory table.

VIII

It is useless to go on. I have neither the time nor the desire to relate in detail all the adventures that have befallen me, the universes I have passed into, the things I have seen and experienced and learned on all the worlds since I left the planet of the machines.

Ever smaller cycles . . . . infinite universes . . . . never ending . . . . each presenting something new . . . . some queer variation of life or intelligence . . . . Life? Intelligence? Terms I once associated with things animate, things protoplasmic and understandable. I find it hard to apply them to all the divergencies of shape and form and construction I have encountered . . . .

Worlds young . . . . warm . . . . volcanic and steaming . . . . the single cell emerging from the slime of warm oceans to propagate on primordial continents . . . . other worlds, innumerable . . . . life divergent in all branches from the single cell . . . . amorphous globules . . . . amphibian . . . . crustacean . . . . reptilian . . . . plant . . . . insect . . . . bird . . . . mammal . . . . all possible variations of combinations . . . . biological monstrosities indescrib­able . . . .

Other forms beyond any attempt at classification . . . . beyond all reason or comprehension of my puny mind . . . . essences of pure flame . . . . others gaseous, incandescent and quiescent alike . . . . plant forms encompassing an entire globe . . . . crystalline beings sentient and reasoning . . . great shimmering columnar forms, seemingly liquid, defying gravity by some strange power of cohesion . . . . a world of sound-vibrations, throbbing, expanding, reverberating in unbroken echoes that nearly drove me crazy . . . . globular brain-like masses utterly dissociated from any material substance . . . . intra-dimensional beings, all shapes and shapeless . . . . entities utterly incapable of registration upon any of my senses except the sixth, that of instinct . . . .

Suns dying .. . . planets cold and dark and airless . . . . last vestiges of once proud races struggling for a few more meager years of sustenance . . . . great cavities . . . . beds of evaporated seas . . . . small furry animals scurrying to cover at my approach . . . . desolation. . . . ruins crumbling surely into the sands of barren deserts, the last mute evidence of vanished civilizations . . . .
Other worlds . . . . a-flourished with life . . . . blessed with light and heat . . . . staggering cities . . . . vast populations . . . . ships plying the surface of oceans, and others in the air . . . . huge observatories . . . . tremendous strides in the sciences . . . .

Space flight . . . . battles for the supremacy of worlds . . . . blasting rays of super-destruction . . . . collision of planets . . . . disruption of solar systems . . . cosmic annihilation . . . .

Light space . . . . a universe with a tenuous, filmy something around it, which I burst through . . . . all around me not the customary blackness of outer space I had known, but light . . . . filled with tiny dots that were globes of darkness . . . . that were burnt-out suns and lifeless planets . . . . nowhere a shimmering planet, nowhere a flaming sun . . . . only remote specks of black amid the light-satiated emptiness . . . .

How many of the infinitely smaller atomic cycles I have passed into, I do not know. I tried to keep count of them at first, but some­where between twenty and thirty I gave it up; and that was long ago.

Each time I would think: “This cannot go on forever—it cannot; surely this next time I must reach the end.”

But I have not reached the end.

Good God—how can there be an end? Worlds composed of atoms . . . . each atom similarly composed . . . . The end would have to be an indestructible solid, and that cannot be; all matter divisible into smaller matter . . . .

What keeps me from going insane? I want to go insane!

I am tired . . . . a strange tiredness neither of mind nor body. Death would be a welcome release from the endless fate that is mine.

But even death is denied me. I have sought it . . . . I have prayed for it and begged for it . . . . but it is not to be.

On all the countless worlds I have contacted, the inhabitants were of two distinctions: they were either so low in the state of intelligence that they fled and barricaded themselves against me in superstitious terror—or were so highly intellectual that they recognized me for what I was and welcomed me among them. On all but a few worlds the latter was the case, and it is on these types that I will dwell briefly.

These beings—or shapes or monstrosities or essences—were in every case mentally and scientifically far above me. In most cases they had observed me for years as a dark shadow looming beyond the farthest stars, blotting out certain star-fields and nebulae . . . . and always when I came to their world they welcomed me with scientific enthusiasm.

Always they were puzzled as to my steady shrinking, and always when they learned of my origin and the manner of my being there, they were surprised and excited.

In most cases gratification was apparent when they learned definitely that there were indeed great ultramacrocosmic universes. It seemed that all of them had long held the theory that such was the case.

On most of the worlds, too, the beings—or entities—or whatever the case might be—were surprised that the Professor, one of my fellow creatures, had invented such a marvelous vitalized element as “Shrinx.”

"Almost unbelievable," was the general consensus of opinion;  "scientifically he must be centuries ahead of the time on his own  planet, if we are to judge the majority of the race by this creature  here"—meaning me.

In spite of the fact that on nearly every world I was looked upon as mentally inferior, they conversed with me and I with them, by various of their methods, in most cases different variations of telep­athy. They learned in minute detail and with much interest all of my past experiences in other universes. They answered all of my questions and explained many things besides, about their own universe and world and civilization and scientific achievements, most of which were completely beyond my comprehension, so alien were they in nature.

And of all the intra-universal beings I have had converse with, the strangest were those essences who dwelt in outer space as well as on various planets; identifiable to me only as vague blots of emptiness, total absences of light or color or substance; who impressed upon me the fact that they were Pure Intelligences, far above and superior to any material plane; but who professed an interest in me, bearing me with them to various planets, revealing many things and treating me very kindly. During my sojourn with them I learned from experience the total subservience of matter to influences of mind. On a giant mountainous world I stepped out upon a thin beam of light stretched between two crags, and willed with all my consciousness that I would not fall. And I did not.

I have learned many things. I know that my mind is much sharper, more penetrative, more grasping, than ever before. And vast fields of wonder and knowledge lie before me in other universes yet to come.

But in spite of this, I am ready for it all to end. This strange tired­ness that is upon me—I cannot understand it. Perhaps some invisible radiation in empty space is satiating me with this tiredness.

Perhaps it is only that I am very lonely. How very far away I am from my own tiny sphere! Millions upon millions . . . . trillions upon trillions . . . . of light-years . . . . Light years! Light cannot measure the distance. And yet it is no distance: I am in a block of metal on the Professor’s laboratory table . . . .

Yet how far away into space and time I have gone! Years have passed, years far beyond my normal span of life. I am eternal.
Yes, eternal life . . . . that men have dreamed of . . . . prayed for . . . . sought after . . . . is mine—and I dream and pray and seek for death!

Death. All the strange beings I have seen and conversed with, have denied it. I have implored many of them to release me painlessly and for all time—but to no avail. Many of them were possessed of the scientific means to stop my steady shrinkage—but they would not stop it. None of them would hinder me, none of them would tamper with the things that were. Why? Always I asked them why, and they would not answer.

But I need no answer. I think I understand. These beings of science realized that such an entity as myself should never be . . . . that I am a blasphemy upon all creation and beyond all reason . . . . they realized that eternal life is a terrible thing . . . . a thing not to be desired . . . . and as punishment for delving into secrets never meant to be revealed, none of them will release me from my fate . . . .

Perhaps they are right, but oh, it is cruel! Cruel! The fault is not mine, I am here against my own will.

And so I continue ever down, alone and lonely, yearning for others of my kind. Always hopeful—and always disappointed.

So it was that I departed from a certain world of highly intelligent gaseous beings; a world that was in itself composed of a highly rarefied substance bordering on nebulosity. So it was that I became even smaller, was lifted up in a whirling, expanding vortex of the dense atmosphere, and entered the universe which it composed.

Why I was attracted by that tiny, far away speck of yellow, I do not know. It was near the center of the nebula I had entered. There were other suns far brighter, far more attractive, very much nearer. This minute yellow sun was dwarfed by other suns and sun-clusters around it—seemed insignificant and lost among them. And why I was drawn to it, so far away, I cannot explain.

But mere distance, even space distance, was nothing to me now. I had long since learned from the Pure Intelligence the secret of pro­pulsion by mind influence, and by this means I propelled myself through space at any desired speed not exceeding that of light; as my mind was incapable of imagining speed faster than light, I of course could not cause my material body to exceed it.

So I neared the yellow sun in a few minutes, and observed that it had twelve planets. And as I was far too large to yet land on any sphere, I wandered far among other suns, observing the haphazard construction of this universe, but never losing sight of the small yellow sun that had so intrigued me. And at last, much smaller, I returned to it.

And of all the twelve planets, one was particularly attractive to me. It was a tiny blue one. It made not much difference where I landed, so why should I have picked it from among the others? Perhaps only a whim—but I think the true reason was because of its constant pale blue twinkling, as though it were beckoning to me, inviting me to come to it. It was an unexplainable phenomenon; none of the others did that. So I moved closer to the orbit of the blue planet, and landed upon it.

As usual I didn’t move from where I stood for a time, until I could view the surrounding terrain; and then I observed that I had landed in a great lake—a chain of lakes. A short distance to my left was a city miles wide, a great part of which was inundated by the flood I had caused.

Very carefully, so as not to cause further tidal waves, I stepped from the lake to solid ground, and the waters receded somewhat.
Soon I saw a group of five machines flying toward me; each of them had two wings held stiffly at right angles to the body. Looking around me I saw others of these machines winging toward me from every direction, always in groups of five, in V formation. When they had come very close they began to dart and swoop in a most peculiar manner, from them came sharp staccato sounds, and I felt the im­pact of many tiny pellets upon my skin! These beings were very warlike, I thought, or else very excitable.

Their bombardment continued for some time, and I began to find it most irritating; these tiny pellets could not harm me seriously, could not even pierce my skin, but the impact of them stung. I could not account for their attack upon me, unless it be that they were angry at the flood I had caused by my landing. If that were the case they were very unreasonable, I thought; any damage I had done was purely unintentional, and they should realize that.
But I was soon to learn that these creatures were very foolish in many of their actions and manners; they were to prove puzzling to me in more ways than one.

I waved my arms around, and presently they ceased their futile bombardment, but continued to fly around me.

I wished I could see what manner of beings flew these machines. They were continually landing and rising again from a wide level field below.

For several hours they buzzed all around while I became steadily smaller. Below me I could now see long ribbons of white that I guessed were roads. Along these roads crawled tiny vehicles, which soon became so numerous that all movement came to a standstill, so congested were they. In the fields a large part of the populace had gathered, and was being constantly augmented by others.

At last I was sufficiently small so that I could make out closer de­tails, and I looked more intently at the beings who inhabited this world. My heart gave a quick leap then, for they somewhat resembled myself in structure. They were four-limbed and stood erect, their method of locomotion consisting of short jerky hops, very different from the smooth gliding movement of my own race. Their general features were somewhat different too—seemed grotesque to me—but the only main difference between them and myself was that their bodies were somewhat more columnar, roughly oval in shape and very thin, I would say almost frail.

Among the thousands gathered there were perhaps a score who seemed in authority. They rode upon the backs of clumsy looking, four-footed animals, and seemed to have difficulty in keeping the ex­cited crowd under control. I, of course, was the center of their excitement; my presence seemed to have caused more consternation here than upon any other world.

Eventually a way was made through the crowd and one of the ponderous four-wheeled vehicles was brought along the road opposite to where I stood. I supposed they wanted me to enter the rough box­like affair, so I did so, and was hauled with many bumps and jolts over the rough road toward the city I had seen to the left. I could have rebelled at this barbarous treatment, but I reflected that I was still very large and this was probably the only way they had of trans­porting me to wherever I was going.

It had become quite dark, and the city was aglow with thousands of lights. I was taken into a certain building, and at once many im­portant looking persons came to observe me.

I have stated that my mind had become much more penetrative than ever before, so I was not surprised to learn that I could read many of the thoughts of these persons without much difficulty. I learned that these were scientists who had come here from other immediate cities as quickly as possible—most of them in the winged machines, which they called “planes”—when they had learned of my landing here. For many months they had been certain that I would land. They had observed me through their telescopes, and their period of waiting had been a speculative one. And I could now see that they were greatly puzzled, filled with much wonderment, and no more enlightenment about me than they had been possessed of before.

Though still very large, I was becoming surely smaller, and it was this aspect that puzzled them most, just as it had on all the other worlds. Secondly in their speculations was the matter of where I had come from.

Many were the theories that passed among them. Certain they were that I had come a far distance. Uranus? Neptune? Pluto? I learned that these were the names of the outmost planets of this system. No, they decided; I must have come a much farther distance than that. Perhaps from another far-away galaxy of this universe! Their minds were staggered at that thought. Yet how very far away they were from the truth.

They addressed me in their own language, and seemed to realize that it was futile. Although I understood everything they said and everything that was in their minds, they could not know that I did, for I could not answer them. Their minds seemed utterly closed to all my attempts at thought communication, so I gave it up.

They conversed then among themselves, and I could read the hopelessness in their minds. I could see, too, as they discussed me, that they looked upon me as being abhorrent, a monstrosity. And as I searched the recesses of their minds, I found many things.

I found that it was the inherent instinct of this race to look upon all unnatural occurrences and phenomena with suspicion and disbelief and prejudiced mind.

I found that they had great pride for their accomplishments in the way of scientific and inventive progress. Their astronomers had delved a short distance into outer space, but considered it a very great distance; and having failed to find signs of intelligent life upon any immediate sphere, they leaped blindly and fondly to the conclusion that their own species of life was the dominant one in this solar system and perhaps—it was a reluctant perhaps—in the entire universe.

Their conception of a universe was a puny one. True, at the present time there was extant a theory of an expanding universe, and in that theory at least they were correct, I knew, remembering the former world I had left—the swirling, expanding wisp of gaseous atmosphere of which this tiny blue sphere was an electron. Yes, their “expanding universe” theory was indeed correct. But very few of their thinkers went beyond their own immediate universe—went deeply enough to even remotely glimpse the vast truth.

They had vast cities, yes. I had seen many of them from my height as I towered above their world. A great civilization, I had thought then. But now I know that great cities do not make great civilizations. I am disappointed at what I have found here, and cannot even understand why I should be disappointed, for this blue sphere is nothing to me and soon I will be gone on my eternal journey down­ward . . . .

Many things I read in these scientists’ minds—things clear and concise, things dim and remote; but they would never know.

And then in the mind of one of the persons, I read an idea. He went away, and returned shortly with an apparatus consisting of wires, a headphone, and a flat revolving disc. He spoke into an instrument, a sort of amplifier. Then a few minutes later he touched a sharp pointed instrument to the rotating disc, and I heard the identical sounds reproduced which he had spoken. A very crude method, but effective in a certain way. They wanted to register my speech so that they would have at least something to work on when I had gone.

I tried to speak some of my old language into the instrument. I had thought I was beyond all surprises, but I was surprised at what happened. For nothing happened. I could not speak. Neither in the old familiar language I had known so long ago, nor in any kind of sound. I had communicated so entirely by thought transference on so many of the other worlds, that now my power of vocal utterance was gone.

They were disappointed. I was not sorry, for they could not have deciphered any language so utterly alien as mine was.

Then they resorted to the mathematics by which this universe and all universes are controlled; into which mathematical mold the eternal All was cast at the beginning and has moved errorlessly since. They produced a great chart which showed the conglomerated masses of this and other galaxies. Then upon a black panel set in the wall, was drawn a circle—understandable in any universe—and around it ten smaller circles. This was evidently their solar system, though I could not understand why they drew but ten circles when I had seen twelve planets from outer space. Then a tiny spot was designated on the chart, the position of this system in its particular galaxy. Then they handed the chart to me.

It was useless. Utterly impossible. How could I ever indicate my own universe, much less my galaxy and solar system, by such puny methods as these? How could I make them know that my own uni­verse and planet were so infinitely large in the scheme of things that theirs were practically non-existent? How could I make them know that their universe was not outside my own, but on my planet?—superimposed in a block of metal on a laboratory table, in a grain of sand, in the atoms of glass in a microscopic slide, in a drop of water, in a blade of grass, in a bit of cold flame, in a thousand other variations of elements and substances all of which I had passed down into and beyond, and finally in a wisp of gas that was the cause of their “expanding universe.” Even could I have conversed with them in their own language I could not have made them grasp the vastness of all those substances existing on worlds each of which was but an electron of an atom in one of trillions upon trillions of molecules of an infinitely larger world! Such a conception would have shattered their minds.

It was very evident that they would never be able to establish communication with me even remotely, nor I with them; and I was becoming very impatient. I wanted to be out of the stifling building, out under the night sky, free and unhampered in the vast space which was my abode.

Upon seeing that I made no move to indicate on the chart which part of their puny universe I came from, the scientists around me again conversed among themselves; and this time I was amazed at the trend of their thoughts.

For the conclusion which they had reached was that I was some freak of outer space which had somehow wandered here, and that my place in the scale of evolution was too far below their own for them to establish ideas with me either by spoken language (of which they concluded I had none) or by signs (which I was apparently too barbaric to understand)!! This—this was their unanimous conclusion! This, because I had not uttered any language for them to record, and because the chart of their universe was utterly insignificant to me! Never did it occur to them that the opposite might be true—that I might converse with them but for the fact that their minds were too weak to register my thoughts!

Disgust was my reaction to these short-sighted conclusions of their unimaginable minds—disgust which gave way to an old emotion, that of anger.

And as that one impulsive, rising burst of anger flooded my mind, a strange thing happened:

Every one of the scientists before me dropped to the floor in a state of unconsciousness.

My mind had, indeed, become much more penetrative than ever before. No doubt my surge of anger had sent out intangible waves which had struck upon their centers of consciousness with sufficient force to render them insensible.

I was glad to be done with them. I left the four walls of the building, emerged into the glorious expansive night under the stars and set out along the street in a direction that I believed would lead me away from the city. I wanted to get away from it, away from this world and the people who inhabited it.

As I advanced along the streets all who saw me recognized me at once and most of them fled unreasonably for safety. A group of persons in one of the vehicles tried to bar my progress, but I exer­cised my power of anger upon them; they drooped senselessly and their vehicle crashed into a building and was demolished.

In a few minutes the city was behind me and I was striding down one of the roads, destination unknown; nor did it matter, except that now I was free and alone as it should be. I had but a few more hours on this world.

And then it was that the feeling came upon me again, the strange feeling that I had experienced twice before: once when I had selected the tiny orange sun from among the millions of others, and again when I had chosen this tiny blue planet. Now I felt it for a third time, more strongly than ever, and now I knew that this feeling had some very definite purpose for being. It was as though something, some power beyond question, drew me irresistibly to it; I could not resist, nor did I want to. This time it was very strong and very near.

Peering into the darkness along the road, I saw a light some distance ahead and to the left, and I knew that I must go to that light.

When I had come nearer I could see that it emanated from a house set far back in a grove of trees, and I approached it without hesitation. The night was warm, and a pair of double windows opened upon a well-lighted room. In this room was a man.

I stepped inside and stood motionless, not yet knowing why I should have been drawn there.

The man’s back was toward me. He was seated before a square dialed instrument, and seemed to be listening intently to some report coming from it. The sounds from the box were unintelligible to me, so I turned my attention to reading the man’s mind as he listened, and was not surprised to learn that the reports concerned myself.

“—casualties somewhat exaggerated, though the property damage has reached millions of dollars,” came the news from the box. “Cleve­land was of course hardest hit, though not unexpectedly, astro­nomical computators having estimated with fair accuracy the radius of danger. The creature landed in Lake Erie only a few miles east of the city. At the contact the waters rose over the breakwater with a rush and inundated nearly one-third of the city before receding, and it was well that the greater part of the populace had heeded the advance warnings and fled . . . . all lake towns in the vicinity have re­ported heavy property damage, and cities as far east as Erie, and as far west as Toledo, have reported high flood waters . . . . all available Government combat planes were rushed to the scene in case the creature should show signs of hostility . . . . scientific men who have awaited the thing’s landing for months immediately chartered planes for Cleveland . . . . despite the elaborate cordons of police and militiamen, the crowds broke through and entered the area, and within an hour after the landing roads in every direction were congested with traffic . . . . for several hours scientists circled and ex­amined the creature in planes, while its unbelievable shrinkage continued . . . . the only report we have from them is that, aside from the contour of its great bell-shaped torso, the creature is quite amazingly correct anatomically . . . . an unofficial statement from Dr. Hilton U. Cogsworthy of the Alleghany Biological Society, is to the effect that such a creature isn’t. That it cannot possibly exist. That the whole thing is the result of some kind of mass hypnotism on a gigantic scale. This, of course, in lieu of some reasonable explanation. . . . many persons would like to believe the ’mass hypnotism’ theory, and many always will; but those who have seen it and taken photographs of it from every angle know that it does exist and that its steady shrinking goes on . . . . Professor James L. Harvey of Miami University has suffered a stroke of temporary insanity and is under the care of physicians. The habitual curiosity seekers who flocked to the scene are apparently more hardened . . . . the latest report is that the creature, still very large, has been transported under heavy guard to the Cleveland Institute of Scientific Research, where is gathered every scientist of note east of the Mississippi . . . . stand by for further news flashes . . . . “

The voice from the box ceased, and as I continued to read the mind of the man whose back was toward me, I saw that he was deeply absorbed in the news he had heard. And the mind of this person was something of a puzzle to me. He was above the average intelligence of those on this world, and was possessed of a certain amount of fundamental scientific knowledge; but I could see im­mediately that his was not a scientifically trained mind. By profession he was a writer—one who recorded fictitious “happenings” in the written language, so that others might absorb and enjoy them.

And as I probed into his mind I was amazed at the depth of imagination there, a trait almost wholly lacking in those others I had encountered, the scientists. And I knew that at last here was one with whose mind I might contact . . . . here was one who was dif­ferent from the others . . . . who went deeper . . . . who seemed on the very edge of the truth. Here was one who thought: “—this strange creature, which has landed here . . . . alien to anything we have ever known . . . . might it not be alien even to our universe? . . . . the strange shrinking . . . . from that phenomenon alone we might conclude that it has come an inconceivable distance . . . . its shrinking may have begun hundreds, thousands of years ago . . . . and if we could but communicate with it, before it passes from Earth forever, what strange things might it not tell us!”

The voice came from the box again, interrupting these thoughts in his mind.

“Attention! Flash! The report comes that the alien space-creature, which was taken to the Scientific Research Institute for observation by scientists, has escaped, after projecting a kind of invisible mind force which rendered unconscious all those within reach. The creature was reported seen by a number of persons, after it left the building. A police squad car was wrecked as a direct result of the creature’s “mind force,” and three policemen were injured, none seriously. It was last seen leaving the city by the north-east, and all persons are ordered to be on the lookout and to report immediately if it is sighted.”

Again the report from the box ceased, and again I probed into the man’s mind, this time deeper, hoping to establish a contact with it which would allow for thought-communication.

I must have at least aroused some hidden mind-instinct, for he whirled to face me, overturning his chair. Surprise was on his face, and something in his eyes that must have been fear.

"Do not be alarmed," I flashed. "Be seated again."

I could see that his mind had not received my thought. But he must have known from my manner that I meant no harm, for he resumed his seat. I advanced further into the room, standing before him. The fear had gone out of his eyes and he only sat tensely star­ing at me, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

"I know that you would like to learn things about myself," I telepathed;  "things which those others—your scientists—would have liked to know."

Reading his mind I could see that he had not received the thought, so I probed even deeper and again flashed the same thought. This time he did receive it, and there was an answering light in his eyes.

He said “Yes,” aloud.

"Those others, your scientists," I went on, "would never have believed  nor even understood my story, even if their minds were of the type to  receive my thoughts, which they are not."

He received and comprehended that thought, too, but I could see that this was a great strain on his mind and could not go on for long.

"Yours is the only mind I have encountered here with which I could  establish thought," I continued, "but even now it is becoming weakened  under the unaccustomed strain. I wish to leave my record and story with  you, but it cannot be by this means. I can put your mind under a  hypnotic influence and impress my thoughts upon your subconscious mind,  if you have some means of recording them. But you must hurry; I have  only a few more hours here at the most, and in your entire lifetime it  would be impossible for you to record all that I could tell."

I could read doubt in his mind. But only for one instant did he hesitate. Then he rose and went to a table where there was a pile of smooth white paper and a sharp pointed instrument—pen—for re­cording my thoughts in words of his own language.

"I am ready," was the thought in his mind.

So I have told my story. Why? I do not know, except that I wanted to. Of all the universes I have passed into, only on this blue sphere have I found creatures even remotely resembling myself. And they are a disappointment; and now I know that I shall never find others of my kind. Never, unless—

I have a theory. Where is the beginning or the end of the eternal All I have been traversing? Suppose there is none? Suppose that, after traversing a few more atomic cycles, I should enter a universe which seemed somehow familiar to me; and that I should enter a certain familiar galaxy, and approach a certain sun, a certain planet—and find that I was back where I started from so long ago: back on my own planet, where I should find the Professor in the laboratory still receiving my sound and sight impressions!! An insane theory; an im­possible one. It shall never be.

Well, then, suppose that after leaving this sphere—after descend­ing into another atomic universe—I should choose not to alight on any planet? Suppose I should remain in empty space, my size con­stantly diminishing? That would be one way of ending it all, I sup­pose. Or would it? Is not my body matter, and is not matter infinite, limitless, eternal? How then could I ever reach a “nothingness?” It is hopeless. I am eternal. My mind too must be eternal or it would surely have snapped long ago at such concepts.

I am so very small that my mind is losing contact with the mind of him who sits here before me writing these thoughts in words of his own language, though his mind is under the hypnotic spell of my own and he is oblivious to the words he writes. I have clambered upon the top of the table beside the pile of pages he has written, to bring my mind closer to his. But why should I want to continue the thought-contact for another instant? My story is finished, there is nothing more to tell.

I shall never find others of my kind . . . I am alone . . . . I think that soon, in some manner, I shall try to put an end to it . . . .

I am very small now . . . . the hypnosis is passing from his mind . . . . I can no longer control it . . . . the thought-contact is slip­ping . . . .

EPILOGUE

National Press-Radio Service, Sept. 29, 1937 (through Cleveland Daily Clarion) :—Exactly one year ago today was a day never to be forgotten in the history of this planet. On that day a strange visitor arrived—and departed.

On September 29, 1936, at 3:31 P.M., that thing from outer space known henceforth only as “The Alien” landed in Lake Erie near Cleveland, causing not so much destruction and terror as great bewilderment and awe, scientists being baffled in their attempts to determine whence it came and the secret of its strange steady shrink­ing.

Now, on the anniversary of that memorable day, we are presenting to the public a most unusual and interesting document purported to be a true account and history of that strange being, The Alien. This document was presented to us only a few days ago by Stanton Cobb Lentz, renowned author of “The Answer to the Ages” and other serious books, as well as of scores of short stories and books of the widely popular type of literature known as science-fiction.

You have read the above document. While our opinion as to its authenticity is frankly skeptical, we shall print Mr. Lentz’s comment and let you, the reader, judge for yourself whether the story was related to Mr. Lentz by The Alien in the manner described, or whether it is only a product of Mr. Lentz’s most fertile imagination.

“On the afternoon of September 29 a year ago,” states Mr. Lentz, “I fled the city as did many others, heeding the warning of a possible tidal wave, should The Alien land in the lake. Thousands of persons had gathered five or six miles to the south, and from there we watched the huge shape overhead, so expansive that it blotted out the sun­light and plunged that section of the country into a partial eclipse. It seemed to draw nearer by slow degrees until, about 3:30 o’clock, it began its downward rush. The sound of contact as it struck the lake was audible for miles, but it was not until later that we learned the extent of the flood. After the landing all was confusion and excitement as combat planes arrived and very foolishly began to bombard the creature and crowds began to advance upon the scene. The entire countryside being in such crowded turmoil, it took me several difficult hours to return to my home. There I listened to the varied reports of the happenings of the past several hours.

“When I had that strange feeling that someone was behind me, and when I whirled to see The Alien standing there in the room, I do not presume to say that I was not scared. I was. I was very much scared. I had seen The Alien when it was five or six hundred feet tall —but that had been from afar. Now it was only ten or eleven feet tall, but was standing right before me. But my scaredness was only momentary, for something seemed to enter and calm my mind.

“Then, although there was no audible sound, I became aware of the thought: ’I know that you would like to learn things about myself, things which those others—your scientists—would have liked to know.’

“This was mental telepathy! I had often used the theory in my stories, but never had I dreamed that I would experience such a medium of thought in real fact. But here it was.

” ’Those others, your scientists,’ came the next thought, ’would never have believed nor even understood my story, even if their minds were of the type to receive my thoughts, which they are not.’ And then I began to feel a strain upon my mind, and knew that I could not stand much more of it.

“Then came the thought that he would relate his story through my sub-conscious mind if I had some means of recording it in my own language. For an instant I hesitated; and then I realized that time was fleeing and never again would I have such an opportunity as this. I went to my desk, where only that morning I had been working on a manuscript. There was paper and ink in plenty.

“My last impression was of some force seeming to spread over my mind; then a terrific dizziness, and the ceiling seemed to crash upon me.

“No time at all had seemed to elapse, when my mind regained its normal faculties; but before me on the desk was a pile of manuscript paper closely written in my own longhand. And—what many persons will find it hard to believe—standing upon that pile of written paper upon my desk top, was The Alien—now scarcely two inches in height—and steadily and surely diminishing! In utter fascination I watched the transformation that was taking place before my eyes—watched until The Alien had become entirely invisible, had descended down into the topmost sheet of paper there on my desk . . . .

“Now I realize that the foregoing document and my explanation of it will be received in many ways. I have waited a full year before making it public. Accept it now as fiction if you wish. There may be some few who will see the truth of it, or at least the possibility; but the vast majority will leap at once to the conclusion that the whole thing is a concoction of my own imagination; that, taking advantage of The Alien’s landing on this planet, I wrote the story to fit the occasion, very appropriately using The Alien as the main theme. To many this will seem all the more to be true, in face of the fact that in most of my science-fiction stories I have poked ridicule and derision and satire at mankind and all its high vaunted science and civiliza­tion and achievements—always more or less with my tongue in my cheek however, as the expression has it. And then along comes this Alien, takes a look at us and concludes that he is very disappointed, not to mention disgusted.
“However, I wish to present a few facts to help substantiate the authenticity of the script. Firstly: for some time after awakening from my hypnosis I was beset by a curious dizziness, though my mind was quite clear. Shortly after The Alien had disappeared I called my physician, Dr. C. M. Rollins. After an examination and a few mental tests he was greatly puzzled. He could not diagnose my case; my dizziness was the after effect of a hypnosis of a type he had never before encountered. I offered no explanation except to say that I had not been feeling well for the past several days.

“Secondly: the muscles of my right hand were so cramped from the long period of steady writing that I could not open my fingers. As an explanation I said that I had been writing for hours on the final chapters of my latest book, and Dr. Rollins said: ’Man, you must be crazy.’ The process of relaxing the muscles was painful.
“Upon my request Dr. Rollins will vouch for the truth of the above statements.

“Thirdly: when I read the manuscript the writing was easily recog­nizable as my own free, swinging longhand up to the last few para­graphs, when the writing became shaky, the last few words terminat­ing in an almost undecipherable scrawl as the Alien’s contact with my mind slipped away.

“Fourthly: I presented the manuscript to Mr. Howard A. Byerson, fiction editor of the National Newspaper Syndicate Service, and at once he misunderstood the entire idea. ’I have read your story, Mr. Lentz,’ he said a few days later, ’and it certainly comes at an appropriate time, right on the anniversary of The Alien’s landing. A neat idea about the origin of The Alien, but a bit farfetched. Now, let’s see, about the price; of course we shall syndicate your story through our National Newspaper chain, and—’

” ’You have the wrong idea,’ I said. ’It is not a story, but a true history of The Alien as related to me by The Alien, and I wish that fact emphasized; if necessary I will write a letter of explanation to be published with the manuscript. And I am not selling you the publication rights, I am merely giving you the document as the quickest and surest way of presenting it to the public.’

” ’But surely you are not serious? An appropriate story by Stanton Cobb Lentz, on the eve of the anniversary of The Alien’s landing, is a scoop; and you—’

” ’I do not ask and will not take a cent for the document,’ I said;

‘you have it now, it is yours, so do with it as you see fit.’

“A memory that will live with me always is the sight of The Alien as last seen by me—as last seen on this earth—as it disappeared into infinite smallness there upon my desk—waving two arms upward as if in farewell . .

“And whether the above true account and history of The Alien be received as such, or as fiction, there can be no doubt that on a not far off September, a thing from some infinite sphere above landed on this earth—and departed.”

The End

Fictional Story Related Index

This is an index of full text reprints of stories that I have read that influenced me when I was young. They are rather difficult to come by today, as where I live they are nearly impossible to find. Yes, you can find them on the internet, behind paywalls. Ah, that’s why all those software engineers in California make all that money. Well, here they are FOR FREE. Enjoy reading them.

Movies that Inspired Me

Here are some movies that I consider noteworthy and worth a view. Enjoy.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.
Jason and the Argonauts
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)
The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Correspondence Course
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt
The Star Mouse (Full Text)
Space Jockey (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Art that Moves Me

An experiment of a bird in a vacuum jar.

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
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Space Jockey (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

This is the full text of the short story by Robert Heinlein called “Space Jockey”. It is presented here for everyone to read. At which I hope that you, the reader, would enjoy it as much as I have. It’s a bit of boyhood that still sticks the walls of my heart.

Heinlein at his best, imagining an interplanetary future (2009) with mechanical calculators, slide rulers and astrogation guided by the stars (that's what Shorty gives the pilot in that sheet of paper, the stars he needs to align the ship to for launching). He's both naive and accurate in some things. 

- Space Jockey - Illustration by Fred Ludekens 

Space Jockey

JUST as they were leaving the telephone called his name. “Don’t answer it,” she pleaded. “We’ll miss the curtain.”

“Who is it?” he called out. The viewplate lighted; he recognized Olga Pierce, and behind her the Colorado Springs office of Trans-Lunar Transit.

“Calling Mr. Pemberton. Calling—Oh, it’s you, Jake. You’re on. Flight 27, Supra-New York to Space Terminal. I’ll have a copter pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“How come?” he protested. “I’m fourth down on the call board.”

“You were fourth down. Now you are standby pilot to Hicks—and he just got a psycho down-check.”

“Hicks got psychoed? That’s silly!”

“Happens to the best, chum. Be ready. ‘Bye now.”

His wife was twisting sixteen dollars worth of lace handkerchief to a shapeless mass. “Jake, this is ridiculous. For three months I haven’t seen enough of you to know what you look like.

“Sorry, kid. Take Helen to the show.”

“Oh, Jake, I don’t care about the show; I wanted to get you where they couldn’t reach you for once.”

“They would have called me at the theater.”

“Oh, no! I wiped out the record you’d left.”

“Phyllis! Are you trying to get me fired?”

“Don’t look at me that way.” She waited, hoping that he would speak, regretting the side issue, and wondering how to tell him that her own fretfulness was caused, not by disappointment, but by gnawing worry for his safety every time he went out into space.

She went on desperately, “You don’t have to take this flight, darling; you’ve been on Earth less than the time limit. Please, Jake!”

He was peeling off his tux. “I’ve told you a thousand times: a pilot doesn’t get a regular run by playing space-lawyer with the rule book. Wiping out my follow-up message—why did you do it, Phyllis? Trying to ground me?”

“No, darling, but I thought just this once—”

“When they offer me a flight I take it.” He walked stiffly out of the room.

He came back ten minutes later, dressed for space and apparently in good humor; he was whistling: “—the caller called Casey at ha’ past four; he kissed his—” He broke off when he saw her face, and set his mouth, ”Where’s my coverall?”

“I’ll get it. Let me fix you something to eat.”

“You know I can’t take high acceleration on a full stomach. And why lose thirty bucks to lift another pound?”

Dressed as he was, in shorts, singlet, sandals, and pocket belt, he was already good for about minus-fifty pounds in weight bonus; she started to tell him the weight penalty on a sandwich and a cup of coffee did not matter to them, but it was just one more possible cause for misunderstanding.

Neither of them said much until the taxicab clumped on the roof. He kissed her goodbye and told her not to come outside. She obeyed—until she heard the helicopter take off. Then she climbed to the roof and watched it out of sight.

The traveling-public gripes at the lack of direct Earth-to-Moon service, but it takes three types of rocket ships and two space-station changes to make a fiddling quarter-million-mile jump for a good reason: Money.

The Commerce Commission has set the charges for the present three-stage lift from here to the Moon at thirty dollars a pound. Would direct service be cheaper?—a ship designed to blast off from Earth, make an airless landing on the Moon, return and make an atmosphere landing, would be so cluttered up with heavy special equipment used only once in the trip that it could not show a profit at a thousand dollars a pound! Imagine combining a ferry boat, a subway train, and an express elevator—

So Trans-Lunar uses rockets braced for catapulting, and winged for landing on return to Earth to make the terrific lift from Earth to our satellite station Supra-New York. The long middle lap, from there to where Space Terminal circles the Moon, calls for comfort-but no landing gear. The Flying Dutchman and the Philip Nolan never land; they were even assembled in space, and they resemble winged rockets like the Skysprite and the Firefly as little as a Pullman train resembles a parachute.

The Moonbat and the Gremlin are good only for the jump from Space Terminal down to Luna . . . no wings, cocoon-like acceleration-and-crash hammocks, fractional controls on their enormous jets.

The change-over points would not have to be more than air-conditioned tanks. Of course Space Terminal is quite a city, what with the Mars and Venus traffic, but even today Supra-New York is still rather primitive, hardly more than a fueling point and a restaurant-waiting room. It has only been the past five years that it has even been equipped to offer the comfort of one-gravity centrifuge service to passengers with queasy stomachs.

Pemberton weighed in at the spaceport office, then hurried over to where the Skysprite stood cradled in the catapult. He shucked off his coverall, shivered as he handed it to the gateman, and ducked inside. He went to his acceleration hammock and went to sleep; the lift to Supra-New York was not his worry—his job was deep space.

He woke at the surge of the catapult and the nerve-tingling rush up the face of Pikes Peak. When the Skysprite went into free flight, flung straight up above the Peak, Pemberton held his breath; if the rocket jets failed to fire, the ground-to-space pilot must try to wrestle her into a glide and bring her down, on her wings.

The rockets roared on time; Jake went back to sleep.

When the Skysprite locked in with Supra-New York. Pemberton went to the station’s stellar navigation room. He was pleased to find Shorty Weinstein, the computer, on duty. Jake trusted Shorty’s computations—a good thing when your ship, your passengers, and your own skin depend thereon. Pemberton had to be a better than average mathematician himself in order to be a pilot; his own limited talent made him appreciate the genius of those who computed the orbits.

“Hot Pilot Pemberton, the Scourge of the Spaceways—Hi!” Weinstein handed him a sheet of paper.

Jake looked at it, then looked amazed. “Hey, Shorty—you’ve made a mistake.”

“Huh? Impossible. Mabel can’t make mistakes.” Weinstein gestured at the giant astrogation computer filling the far wall.

“You made a mistake. You gave me an easy fix—’Vega, Antares, Regulus.’ You make things easy for the pilot and your guild’ll chuck you out.” Weinstein looked sheepish but pleased. “I see I don’t blast off for seventeen hours. I could have taken the morning freight.” Jake’s thoughts went back to Phyllis.

“UN canceled the morning trip.”

“Oh—” Jake shut up, for he knew Weinstein knew as little as he did. Perhaps the flight would have passed too close to an A-bomb rocket, circling the globe like a policeman. The General Staff of the Security Council did not give out information about the top secrets guarding the peace of the planet.

Pemberton shrugged. “Well, if I’m asleep, call me three hours minus.”

“Right. Your tape will be ready.”

While he slept, the Flying Dutchman nosed gently into her slip, sealed her airlocks to the Station, discharged passengers and freight from Luna City. When he woke, her holds were filling, her fuel replenished, and passengers boarding. He stopped by the post office radio desk, looking for a letter from Phyllis. Finding none, he told himself that she would have sent it to Terminal. He went on into the restaurant, bought the facsimile Herald-Tribune, and settled down grimly to enjoy the comics and his breakfast.

A man sat down opposite him and proceeded to plague him with silly questions about rocketry, topping it by misinterpreting the insignia embroidered on Pemberton’s singlet and miscalling him “Captain.” Jake hurried through breakfast to escape him, then picked up the tape from his automatic pilot, and went aboard the Flying Dutchman.

After reporting to the Captain he went to the control room, floating and pulling himself along by the handgrips. He buckled himself into the pilot’s chair and started his check off.

Captain Kelly drifted in and took the other chair as Pemberton was finishing his checking runs on the ballistic tracker. “Have a Camel, Jake.”

“I’ll take a rain check.” He continued; Kelly watched him with a slight frown. Like captains and pilots on Mark Twain’s Mississippi—and for the same reasons—a spaceship captain bosses his ship, his crew, his cargo, and his passengers, but the pilot is the final, legal, and unquestioned boss of how the ship is handled from blast-off to the end of the trip. A captain may turn down a given pilot-nothing more. Kelly fingered a slip of paper tucked in his pouch and turned over in his mind the words with which the Company psychiatrist on duty had handed it to him.

“I’ll giving this pilot clearance, Captain, but you need not accept it.”

“Pemberton’s a good man. What’s wrong?”

The psychiatrist thought over what he had observed while posing as a silly tourist bothering a stranger at breakfast. “He’s a little more anti-social than his past record shows. Something on his mind. Whatever it is, he can tolerate it for the present.

We’ll keep an eye on him.”

Kelly had answered, “Will you come along with him as pilot?”

“If you wish.”

“Don’t bother—I’ll take him. No need to lift a deadhead.”

Pemberton fed Weinstein’s tape into the robot-pilot, then turned to Kelly. “Control ready, sir.”

“Blast when ready, Pilot.” Kelly felt relieved when he heard himself make the irrevocable decision.

Pemberton signaled the Station to cast loose. The great ship was nudged out by an expanding pneumatic ram until she swam in space a thousand feet away, secured by a single line. He then turned the ship to its blast-off direction by causing a flywheel, mounted on gymbals at the ship’s center of gravity, to spin rapidly. The ship spun slowly in the opposite direction, by grace of Newton’s Third Law of Motion.

Guided by the tape, the robot-pilot tilted prisms of the pilot’s periscope so that Vega, Antares, and Regulus would shine as one image when the ship was headed right; Pemberton nursed the ship to that heading . . . fussily; a mistake of one minute of arc here meant two hundred miles at destination.

When the three images made a pinpoint, he stopped the flywheels and locked in the gyros. He then checked the heading of his ship by direct observation of each of the stars, just as a salt-water skipper uses a sextant, but with incomparably more accurate instruments. This told him nothing about the correctness of the course Weinstein had ordered—he had to take that as Gospel—but it assured him that the robot and its tape were behaving as planned. Satisfied, he cast off the last line.

Seven minutes to go—Pemberton flipped the switch permitting the robot-pilot to blast away when its clock told it to. He waited, hands poised over the manual controls, ready to take over if the robot failed, and felt the old, inescapable sick excitement building up inside him.

Even as adrenalin poured into him, stretching his time sense, throbbing in his ears, his mind kept turning back to Phyllis.

He admitted she had a kick coming—spacemen shouldn’t marry. Not that she’d starve if he messed up a landing, but a gal doesn’t want insurance; she wants a husband—minus six minutes.

If he got a regular run she could live in Space Terminal. No good-idle women at Space Terminal went bad. Oh, Phyllis wouldn’t become a tramp or a rum bum; she’d just go bats.

Five minutes more-he didn’t care much for Space Terminal himself. Nor for space! “The Romance of Interplanetary Travel”—it looked well in print, but he knew what it was: A job. Monotony. No scenery. Bursts of work, tedious waits. No home life.

Why didn’t he get an honest job and stay home nights?

He knew! Because he was a space jockey and too old to change.

What chance has a thirty-year-old married man, used to important money, to change his racket? (Four minutes.) He’d look good trying to sell helicopters on commission, now, wouldn’t he?

Maybe he could buy a piece of irrigated land and—Be your age, chum! You know as much about farming as a cow knows about cube root! No, he had made his bed when he picked rockets during his training hitch. If he had bucked for the electronics branch, or taken a GI scholarship—too late now. Straight from the service into Harriman’s Lunar Exploitations, hopping ore on Luna. That had torn it.

“How’s it going, Doc?” Kelly’s voice was edgy.

“Minus two minutes some seconds.” Damnation—Kelly knew better than to talk to the pilot on minus time.

He caught a last look through the periscope. Antares seemed to have drifted. He unclutched the gyro, tilted and spun the flywheel, braking it savagely to a stop a moment later. The image was again a pinpoint. He could not have explained what he did: it was virtuosity, exact juggling, beyond textbook and classroom.

Twenty seconds. . . .across the chronometer’s face beads of light trickled the seconds away while he tensed, ready to fire by hand, or even to disconnect and refuse the trip if his judgment told him to. A too-cautious decision might cause Lloyds’ to cancel his bond; a reckless decision could cost his license or even his life—and others.

But he was not thinking of underwriters and licenses, nor even of lives. In truth he was not thinking at all; he was feeling, feeling his ship, as if his nerve ends extended into every part of her. Five seconds . . . the safety disconnects clicked out. Four seconds . . . three seconds . . . two seconds . . . one?

He was stabbing at the band-fire button when the roar hit him.

Kelly relaxed to the pseudo-gravity of the blast and watched.

Pemberton was soberly busy, scanning dials, noting time, checking his progress by radar bounced off Supra-New York. Weinstein’s figures, robot-pilot, the ship itself, all were clicking together.

Minutes later, the critical instant neared when the robot should cut the jets. Pemberton poised a finger over the hand cut-off, while splitting his attention among radarscope, accelerometer, periscope, and chronometer. One instant they were roaring along on the jets; the next split second the ship was in free orbit, plunging silently toward the Moon. So perfectly matched were human and robot that Pemberton himself did not know which had cut the power.

He glanced again at the board, then unbuckled. “How about that cigarette, Captain? And you can let your passengers unstrap.”

No co-pilot is needed in space and most pilots would rather share a toothbrush than a control room. The pilot works about an hour at blast off, about the same before contact, and loafs during free flight, save for routine checks and corrections. Pemberton prepared to spend one hundred and four hours eating, reading, writing letters, and sleeping—especially sleeping.

When the alarm woke him, he checked the ship’s position, then wrote to his wife. “Phyllis my dear,” he began, “I don’t blame you for being upset at missing your night out. I was disappointed, too. But bear with me, darling, I should be on a regular run before long. In less than ten years I’ll be up for retirement and we’ll have a chance to catch up on bridge and golf and things like that. I know it’s pretty hard to—”

The voice circuit cut in. “Oh, Jake—put on your company face. I’m bringing a visitor to the control room.”

“No visitors in the control room, Captain.”

“Now, Jake. This lunkhead has a letter from Old Man Harriman himself. ‘Every possible courtesy—’ and so forth.”

Pemberton thought quickly. He could refuse-but there was no sense in offending the big boss. “Okay, Captain. Make it short.”

The visitor was a man, jovial, oversize—Jake figured him for an eighty pound weight penalty. Behind him a thirteen-year-old male counterpart came zipping through the door and lunged for the control console. Pemberton snagged him by the arm and forced himself to speak pleasantly. “Just hang on to that bracket, youngster. I don’t want you to bump your head.”

“Leggo me! Pop—make him let go.”

Kelly cut in. “I think he had best hang on, Judge.” “Umm, uh—very well. Do as the Captain says, Junior.” “Aw, gee, Pop!”

“Judge Schacht, this is First Pilot Pemberton,” Kelly said rapidly. “He’ll show you around.”

“Glad to know you, Pilot. Kind of you, and all that.”

“What would you like to see, Judge?” Jake said carefully. “Oh, this and that. It’s for the boy—his first trip. I’m an old

spacehound myself—probably more hours than half your crew.” He laughed. Pemberton did not.

“There’s not much to see in free flight.”

“Quite all right. We’ll just make ourselves at home—eh, Captain?”

“I wanna sit in the control seat,” Schacht Junior announced. Pemberton winced. Kelly said urgently, “Jake, would you mind outlining the control system for the boy? Then we’ll go.”

“He doesn’t have to show me anything. I know all about it.I’m a Junior Rocketeer of America—see my button?” The boy shoved himself toward the control desk.

Pemberton grabbed him, steered him into the pilot’s chair, and strapped him in. He then flipped the board’s disconnect.

“Whatcha doing?”

“I cut off power to the controls so I could explain them.”

“Aintcha gonna fire the jets?”

“No.” Jake started a rapid description of the use and purpose of each button, dial, switch, meter, gimmick, and scope.

Junior squirmed. “How about meteors?” he demanded. “Oh, that—maybe one collision in half a million Earth-Moon trips. Meteors are scarce.”

“So what? Say you hit the jackpot? You’re in the soup.”

“Not at all. The anti-collision radar guards all directions five hundred miles out. If anything holds a steady bearing for three seconds, a direct hook-up starts the jets. First a warning gong so that everybody can grab something solid, then one second later—Boom!—Weget out of there fast.”

“Sounds corny to me. Lookee, I’ll show you how Commodore

Cartwright did it in The Comet Busters—

“Don’t touch those controls I”

“You don’t own this ship. My pop says—”

“Oh, Jake!” Hearing his name, Pemberton twisted, fish-like, to face Kelly.

“Jake, Judge Schacht would like to know—” From the corner of his eye Jake saw the boy reach for the board. He turned, started to shout—acceleration caught him, while the jets roared in his ear.

An old spacehand can usually recover, catlike, in an unexpected change from weightlessness to acceleration. But Jake had been grabbing for the boy, instead of for anchorage. He fell back and down, twisted to try to avoid Schacht, banged his head on the frame of the open air-tight door below, and fetched up on the next deck, out cold.

Kelly was shaking him. “You all right, Jake?”

He sat up. “Yeah. Sure.” He became aware of the thunder, the shivering deckplates. “The jets! Cut the powerl”

He shoved Kelly aside and swarmed up into the control room, jabbed at the cut-off button. In sudden ringing silence, they were again weightless.

Jake turned, unstrapped Schacht Junior, and hustled him to Kelly. “Captain, please remove this menace from my control room.”

“Leggo! Pop—he’s gonna hurt me!”

The elder Schacht bristled at once. “What’s the meaning of this? Let go of my son!”

“Your precious son cut in the jets.”

“Junior—did you do that?”

The boy shifted his eyes. “No, Pop. It … it was a meteor.”

Schacht looked puzzled. Pemberton snorted. “I had just told him how the radar-guard can blast to miss a meteor. He’s lying.”

Schacht ran through the process he called “making up his mind,” then answered, “Junior never lies. Shame on you, a grown man, to try to put the blame on a helpless boy. I shall report you, sir. Come, Junior.”

Jake grabbed his arm. “Captain, I want those controls photographed for fingerprints before this man leaves the room. It was not a meteor; the controls were dead, until this boy switched them on. Furthermore the anti-collision circuit sounds an alarm.”

Schacht looked wary. “This is ridiculous. I simply objected to the slur on my son’s character. No harm has been done.”

“No harm, eh? How about broken arms—or necks? And wasted fuel, with more to waste before we’re back in the groove. Do you know, Mister ‘Old Spacehound,’ just how precious a little fuel will be when we try to match orbits with Space Terminal—if we haven’t got it? We may have to dump cargo to save the ship, cargo at $60,000 a ton on freight charges alone. Finger prints will show the Commerce Commission whom to nick for it.”

When they were alone again Kelly asked anxiously, “You won’t really have to jettison? You’ve got a maneuvering reserve.”

“Maybe we can’t even get to Terminal. How long did she blast?”

Kelly scratched his head. “I was woozy myself.”

“We’ll open the accelerograph and take a look.”

Kelly brightened. “Oh, sure! If the brat didn’t waste too much, then we just swing ship and blast back the same length of time.”

Jake shook his head. “You forgot the changed mass-ratio.”

“Oh . . . oh, yes!” Kelly looked embarrassed. Mass-ratio . . . under power, the ship lost the weight of fuel burned. The thrust remained constant; the mass it pushed shrank. Getting back to proper position, course, and speed became a complicated problem in the calculus of ballistics. “But you can do it, can’t you?”

“I’ll have to. But I sure wish I had Weinstein here.” Kelly left to see about his passengers; Jake got to work. He checked his situation by astronomical observation and by radar. Radar gave

him all three factors quickly but with limited accuracy. Sights taken of Sun, Moon, and Earth gave him position, but told nothing of course and speed, at that time—nor could he afford to wait to take a second group of sights for the purpose.

Dead reckoning gave him an estimated situation, by adding Weinstein’s predictions to the calculated effect of young Schacht’s meddling. This checked fairly well with the radar and visual observations, but still he had no notion of whether or not he could get back in the groove and reach his destination; it was now necessary to calculate what it would take and whether or not the remaining fuel would be enough to brake his speed and match orbits.

In space, it does no good to reach your journey’s end if you flash on past at miles per second, or even crawling along at a few hundred miles per hour. To catch an egg on a plate—don’t bump!

He started doggedly to work to compute how to do it using the least fuel, but his little Marchant electronic calculator was no match for the tons of IBM computer at Supra-New York, nor was he Weinstein. Three hours later he had an answer of sorts. He called Kelly. “Captain? You can start by jettisoning Schacht & Son.”

“I’d like to. No way out, Jake?”

“I can’t promise to get your ship in safely without dumping. Better dump now, before we blast. It’s cheaper.”

Kelly hesitated; he would as cheerfully lose a leg. “Give me time to pick out what to dump.”

“Okay.” Pemberton returned sadly to his figures, hoping to find a saving mistake, then thought better of it. He called the radio room. “Get me Weinstein at Supra-New York.”

Out of normal range.”

“I know that. This is the Pilot. Safety priority—urgent. Get a tight beam on them and nurse it.”

“Uh . . . aye aye, sir. I’ll try.”

Weinstein was doubtful. “Cripes, Jake, I can’t pilot you.” “Dammit, you can work problems for me!”

“What good is seven-place accuracy with bum data?”

“Sure, sure. But you know what instruments I’ve got; you know about how well I can handle them. Get me a better answer.”

“I’ll try.” Weinstein called back four hours later. “Jake? Here’s the dope: You planned to blast back to match your predicted speed, then made side corrections for position. Orthodox but uneconomical. Instead I had Mabel solve for it as one maneuver.”

“Good!”

“Not so fast. It saves fuel but not enough. You can’t possibly get back in your old groove and then match Terminal without dumping.”

Pemberton let it sink in, then said, “I’ll tell Kelly.”

”Wait a minute, Jake. Try this. Start from scratch.”

“Huh?”

“Treat it as a brand-new problem. Forget about the orbit on your tape. With your present course, speed, and position, compute the cheapest orbit to match with Terminal’s. Pick a new groove.”

Pemberton felt foolish. “I never thought of that.”

“Of course not. With the ship’s little one-lung calculator it’d take you three weeks to solve it. You set to record?”

“Sure.”

“Here’s your data.” Weinstein started calling it off.

When they had checked it, Jake said, “That’ll get me there?”

“Maybe. If the data you gave me is up to your limit of accuracy; if you can follow instructions as exactly as a robot, if you can blast off and make contact so precisely that you don’t need side corrections, then you might squeeze home. Maybe. Good luck, anyhow.” The wavering reception muffled their goodbyes,

Jake signaled Kelly. “Don’t jettison, Captain. Have your passengers strap down. Stand by to blast. Minus fourteen minutes.”

“Very well, Pilot.”

The new departure made and checked, he again had time to spare. He took out his unfinished letter, read it, then tore it up.

“Dearest Phyllis,” he started again, “I’ve been doing some hard thinking this trip and have decided that I’ve just been stubborn. What am I doing way out here? I like my home. I like to see my wife.

“Why should I risk my neck and your peace of mind to herd junk through the sky? Why hang around a telephone waiting to chaperon fatheads to the Moon-numbskulls who couldn’t pilot a rowboat and should have stayed at home in the first place?

“Money, of course. I’ve been afraid to risk a change. I won’t find another job that will pay half as well, but, if you are game, I’ll ground myself and we’ll start over. All my love, “Jake”

He put it away and went to sleep, to dream that an entire troop of Junior Rocketeers had been quartered in his control room.

The close-up view of the Moon is second only to the space-side view of the Earth as a tourist attraction; nevertheless Pemberton insisted that all passengers strap down during the swing around to Terminal. With precious little fuel for the matching maneuver, he refused to hobble his movements to please sightseers.

Around the bulge of the Moon, Terminal came into sight—by radar only, for the ship was tail foremost. After each short braking blast Pemberton caught a new radar fix, then compared his approach with a curve he had plotted from Weinstein’s figures—with one eye on the time, another on the ‘scope, a third on the plot, and a fourth on his fuel gages.

“Well, Jake?” Kelly fretted. “Do we make it?”

“How should I know? You be ready to dump.” They had agreed on liquid oxygen as the cargo to dump, since it could be let to boil out through the outer valves, without handling.

“Don’t say it, Jake.”

“Damn it—I won’t if I don’t have to.” He was fingering his controls ‘again; the blast chopped off his words. When it stopped, the radio maneuvering circuit was calling him.

“Flying Dutchman, Pilot speaking,” Jake shouted back.

“Terminal Control—Supro reports you short on fuel.”

“Right.”

“Don’t approach. Match speeds outside us. We’ll send a transfer ship to refuel you and pick up passengers.”

“I think I can make it.”

“Don’t try it. Wait for refueling.”

“Quit telling me how to pilot my ship!” Pemberton switched off the circuit, then stared at the board, whistling morosely. Kelly filled in the words in his mind: “Casey said to the fireman, ‘Boy, you better jump, cause two locomotives are agoing to bump!’

“You going in the slip anyhow, Jake?”

“Mmm—no, blast it. I can’t take a chance of caving in the side of Terminal, not with passengers aboard. But I’m not going to match speeds fifty miles outside and wait for a piggyback.”

He aimed for a near miss just outside Terminal’s orbit, conning by instinct, for Weinstein’s figures meant nothing by now. His aim was good; he did not have to waste his hoarded fuel on last minute side corrections to keep from hitting Terminal. When at last he was sure of sliding safely on past if unchecked, he braked once more. Then, as he started to cut off the power, the jets coughed, sputtered, and quit.

The Flying Dutchman floated in space, five hundred yards outside Terminal, speeds matched.

Jake switched on the radio. ”Terminal—stand by for my line. I’ll warp her in.”

He had filed his report, showered, and was headed for the post office to radiostat his letter, when the bullhorn summoned him. to the Commodore-Pilot’s office. Oh, oh, he told himself, Schacht has kicked the Brass—I wonder just how much stock that bliffy owns? And there’s that other matter—getting snotty with Control.

He reported stiffly. “First Pilot Pemberton, sir.”

Commodore Soames looked up. “Pemberton—oh, yes. You hold two ratings, space-to-space and airless-landing.”

Let’s not stall around, Jake told himself. Aloud he said, “I have no excuses for anything this last trip. If the Commodore does not approve the way I run my control room, he may have my resignation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I, well—don’t you have a passenger complaint on me?” “Oh, that!” Soames brushed it aside. “Yes, he’s been here. But I have Kelly’s report, too—and your chief jetman’s, and a special from. Supra-New York. That was crack piloting, Pemberton.”

“You mean there’s no beef from the Company?”

“When have I failed to back up my pilots? You were perfectly right; I would have stuffed him out the air lock. Let’s get down to business: You’re on the space-to-space board, but I want to send a special to Luna City. Will you take it, as a favor to me?”

Pemberton hesitated; Soames went on, “That oxygen you saved is for the Cosmic Research Project. They blew the seals on the north tunnel and lost tons of the stuff. The work is stopped—about $130,000 a day in overhead, wages, and penalties. The Gremlin is here, but no pilot until the Moonbat gets in—except you. Well?”

“But I—look, Commodore, you can’t risk people’s necks on a jet landing of mine. I’m rusty; I need a refresher and a checkout.”

“No passengers, no crew, no captain—your neck alone.” “I’ll take her.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, with the ugly, powerful hull of the Gremlin around him, he blasted away. One strong shove to kill her orbital speed and let her fall toward the Moon, then no more worries until it came time to “ride ‘er down on her tail.”

He felt good—until he hauled out two letters, the one he had failed to send, and one from Phyllis, delivered at Terminal.

The letter from Phyllis was affectionate—and superficial. She did not mention his sudden departure; she ignored his profession completely. The letter was a model of correctness, but it worried him.

He tore up both letters and started another. It said, in part: “—never said so outright, but you resent my job.

"I have to work to support us. You've got a job, too. It's an old, old job that women have been doing a long time—crossing the plains in covered wagons, waiting for ships to come back from China, or waiting around a mine head after an explosion-kiss him goodbye with a smile, take care of him at home.

"You married a spaceman, so part of your job is to accept my job cheerfully. I think you can do it, when you realize it. I hope so, for the way things have been going won't do for either of us.

Believe me, I love you.

Jake" 
 

He brooded on it until time to bend the ship down for his approach. From twenty miles altitude down to one mile he let the robot brake her, then shifted to manual while still falling slowly. A perfect airless-landing would be the reverse of the take-off of a war rocket-free fall, then one long blast of the jets, ending with the ship stopped dead as she touched the ground. In practice a pilot must feel his way down, not too slowly; a ship could bum all the fuel this side of Venus fighting gravity too long.

Forty seconds later, falling a little more than 140 miles per hour, he picked up in his periscopes the thousand-foot static towers. At 300 feet he blasted five gravities for more than a second, cut it, and caught her with a one-sixth gravity, Moon-normal blast. Slowly he eased this off, feeling happy.

The Gremlin hovered, her bright jet splashing the soil of the Moon, then settled with dignity to land without a jar.

The ground crew took over; a sealed runabout jeeped Pemberton to the tunnel entrance. Inside Luna City, he found himself paged before he finished filing his report. When he took the call, Soames smiled at him from the viewplate. “I saw that landing from the field pick-up, Pemberton. You don’t need a refresher course.”

Jake blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

“Unless you are dead set on space-to-space, I can use you on the regular Luna City run. Quarters here or Luna City? Want it?”

He heard himself saying, “Luna City. I’ll take it.”

He tore up his third letter as he walked into Luna City post office. At the telephone desk he spoke to a blonde in a blue moonsuit. “Get me Mrs. Jake Pemberton, Suburb six-four-oh-three, Dodge City, Kansas, please.”

She looked him over. “You pilots sure spend money.”

“Sometimes phone calls are cheap. Hurry it, will you?”

Phyllis was trying to phrase the letter she felt she should have written before. It was easier to say in writing that she was not complaining of loneliness nor lack of fun, but that she could not stand the strain of worrying about his safety. But then she found herself quite unable to state the logical conclusion. Was she prepared to face giving him up entirely if he would not give up space? She truly did not know . . . the phone call was a welcome interruption.

The viewplate stayed blank. “Long distance,” came a thin voice. ”Luna City calling.”

Fear jerked at her heart. “Phyllis Pemberton speaking.”

An interminable delay—she knew it took nearly three seconds for radio waves to make the Earth-Moon round trip, but she did not remember it and it would not have reassured her. All she could see was a broken home, herself a widow, and Jake, beloved Jake, dead in space.

“Mrs. Jake Pemberton?”

“Yes, yes! Go ahead.” Another wait—had she sent him away in a bad temper, reckless, his judgment affected? Had he died out there, remembering only that she fussed at him for leaving her to go to work? Had she failed him when he needed her? She knew that her Jake could not be tied to apron strings; men—grown-up men, not mammas’ boys—had to break away from mother’s apron strings. Then why had she tried to tie him to hers?—she had known better; her own mother had warned her not to try it.

She prayed.

Then another voice, one that weakened her knees with relief: “That you, honey?”

“Yes, darling, yes! What are you doing on the Moon?”

“It’s a long story. At a dollar a second it will keep. What I want to know is—are you willing to come to Luna City?”

It was Jake’s turn to suffer from the inevitable lag in reply.

He wondered if Phyllis were stalling, unable to make up her mind. At last he heard her say, “Of course, darling. When do I leave?”

“When—say, don’t you even want to know why?”

She started to say that it did not matter, then said, ”Yes, tell me.” The lag was still present but neither of them cared. He told her the news, then added, “Run over to the Springs and get Olga Pierce to straighten out the red tape for you. Need my help to pack?”

She thought rapidly. Had he meant to come back anyhow, he would not have asked. “No. I can manage.”

“Good girl. I’ll radiostat you a long letter about what to bring and so forth. I love you. ‘Bye now!”

“Oh, I love you, too. Goodbye, darling.”

Pemberton came out of the booth whistling. Good girl, Phyllis. Staunch. He wondered why he had ever doubted her.

The End

Movies that Inspired Me

Here are some movies that I consider noteworthy and worth a view. Enjoy.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.
Jason and the Argonauts
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)
The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

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Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
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Correspondence Course
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The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt
The Star Mouse (Full Text)

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Art that Moves Me

An experiment of a bird in a vacuum jar.

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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When Hollywood still knew how to make movies; The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)

I have composed a number of posts that involved special effects by Ray Harryhausen. I listed them simply because, as a boy, the visuals and the adventure that was portrayed in the movies greatly appealed to me. They influenced me. Which was something that is most certainly lacking in the latest Hollywood fare. (That is, unless you are an LGBT with an inferiority complex.)

Here, I want to discuss another of his great works. The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.

Sinbad and his crew intercept a homunculus carrying a golden tablet. Koura, the creator of the homunculus and practitioner of evil magic, wants the tablet back and pursues Sinbad. Meanwhile Sinbad meets the Vizier who has another part of the interlocking golden map, and they mount a quest across the seas to solve the riddle of the map, accompanied by a slave girl with a mysterious tattoo of an eye on her  palm. They encounter strange beasts, tempests, and the dark interference of Koura along the way.

-AVXHM  
The golden voyage of Sinbad.
The golden voyage of Sinbad is a classic in itself. It too held claim to all sorts of creative monsters, some huge, some multi-limbed, some that flew, and others that were magical. All of which were amazing to me.

The Movie

It all starts to unravel when Sinbad fires an arrow at a strange creature that flies over his ship.

As the creature dodges the arrow, it ends up dropping an amulet it is carrying. Let me pause here for a second. A strange creature? It’s carrying a magic (we suppose, after all what other purpose would an amulet have) amulet, which it drops, and Sinbad gathers up.

Kali
Kali is a multi-armed creature creation that Sinbad must battle with. You can well imagine the problems and issues that you must contend with when dealing with a six armed purple creature.

Sinbad makes landfall, and almost immediately meets an evil sorcerer. We know he is evil because he immediately engages Sinbad in fisticuffs. His attempts to forcibly take the amulet from Sinbad is rebuffed.

The sorcerer’s name is Koura. He’s a fellow that you don’t want to get tangled up with.

So Sinbad seeks out a safe haven, and is eventually granted refuge by the benevolent ruler of the city, known as the Grand Vizier. This fellow too has tangled up with Koura. For today he has been forced to hide his face behind a beaten gold mask. You see, his face is all terribly disfigured after Koura burnt it away with a fireball.

Golden Voyage of Sinbad.
Check out the slave girl that tags along with Sinbad. Yowsa! ( Actress Caroline Munro ) This is how she spends the majority of The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (Gordon Hessler, 1973). Yet, despite the ludicrous neckline and the constant layer of oil/sweat she still manages to draw your eyes up and away from her chest and towards her eyes. It takes a lot of presence to up-stage that bust, but Munro had it by the ton.

The Vizier shows Sinbad a companion amulet and the drawing of a third one. All three amulets form a map that leads to a fountain of youth on the island of Lemuria.

Harryhausen’s creations include the winged, miniature homunculus; an  ensorcelled figurehead that tears itself loose from Sinbad’s ship; a  one-eyed centaur; a gryphon that guards the Fountain of Destiny; and,  most impressively, a six-armed statue of Kali which performs an Indian  dance before dueling against Sinbad’s men with six swords. 

It’s really  the Kali sequence that makes this such a memorable film. 

With his  typical attention to detail, Harryhausen hired an Indian dancer (Surya  Kumari, also a noted actress and singer) to choreograph and perform as  Kali with one of her students strapped to her back. 

The dance was then  scored with Indian musicians, and the sudden switch in flavor (as our  ears have already been conditioned to an hour or so of Rózsa’s romantic  adventure music) is in synch with the charged, magical atmosphere of the  statue coming to life. 

For the swordfight, nearly as elaborate as the  celebrated skeleton battle in Jason and the Argonauts, stunt  choreographer Fernando Poggi tied three of his men together to rehearse  the action with the actors, then removed themselves and let the actors  shadow-box before the cameras, with Harryhausen’s Kali to be added  later. 

It’s a showstopping fight and, it must be said, far more rousing  than the typical poke-with-spears action that so many Harryhausen action  scenes become (or, in fact, the earlier scene with the ship’s  figurehead). It’s one for the highlight reels. 

 -Midnight Only 

With the complete amulet, The Grand Vizier will be able to stop Koura’s ravages on the kingdom. And so Sinbad and the Vizier set sail on an expedition to Lemuria.

Caroline Munro
Listen up. After Caroline Munro was in a 007 film, she entered in one of my all time (yes my absolute all time) favorite cult movies. That’s right. Caroline’s first big role was in 1971, opposite Horror legend Vincent Price in “The Abominable Dr. Phibes” – playing the deceased Mrs. Victoria Regina Phibes. What a woman. What an actress!

However, Koura desires the amulet too. As all bad guys learn sooner or later, there is a price when using dark magic. His use of the amulet has taken it’s tool. For each time he used it, a little bit of life was stolen from him. Thus, he needs and covets that amulet in the vain hope of regaining his youth. You know, the youth and life that each spell he casts steals from him.

Koura sets sail determined to stop them. And thus, the adventure movie begins…

Some Background

It all sort of began with the movie The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958). This movie was a landmark in fantasy cinema, and was often imitated over the next decade.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.

Most importantly, it brought to prominence the name of special effects man Ray Harryhausen and his fantastical creatures. Now, Ray Harryhausen was more than just a specialist in the process of stop-motion animation. He was a genus. Here, it is much like claymation. Created figurines are meticulously moved and photographed one frame at a time.

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad
Sinbad (John Philip law) fights the centaur while (slave girl) companion Margiana (Caroline Munro) stands in the background. That’s all very interesting especially how the centaur is pictured.

He was so successful at it that Harryhausen went on to build a substantial career in this field over the next two decades.

He found a nitche in the world of Greek mythology. He would revisit the Sinbad mythos twice, here and later with the movie Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977). The Golden Voyage of Sinbad is one of Ray Harryhausen’s most acclaimed works and one that shows him at the height of his art.

The golden youyage of Sinbad.
Ray Harryhausen demonstrates that special effects don’t need to be state of the art to be edge of the seat, this film sees the adventurer and his crew on a quest to defeat evil magician Koura and solve the riddle of a mysterious interlocking golden map. Sinbad must fight his way past several of Harryhausen’s ingenious stop-motion animated monsters along the way, including a one-eyed centaur, and his own ship’s wooden figurehead, magically brought to life.

Most Ray Harryhausen films tend to be set around Harryhausen’s provision of profound creature effects. Which unfortunately tended to make the real actors and their intervening action rather wooden. However, as a child watching these movies, I noticed none of that.

The same is true with the dialog. No matter how chunky or cheesy it appeared, it always appealed to me. The quest for adventure screamed at me, and the livid monsters occupied my young impressionable mind.

The golden voyage of Sinbad 3
Seriously, just how many movies do you find a griffin doing battle with a minaraur or a cyclops – minataur hybrid? Not often. Well, this movie has this and much, much more.
 When I was a child, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973) and Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger  (1977) were one and the same – a four-hour Sinbad miniseries, with all  the islands, wizards, beautiful girls, and Ray Harryhausen monsters  randomly distributed so that I wasn’t exactly sure which belonged to  which. 

Understand that every trip to the video store meant that I would  stand there, staring at all the boxes, ruling out the R-rated films or  anything that looked remotely adult (verboten when I was a child), and  eventually, inevitably, I would grab a Ray Harryhausen movie and hand it  to my mother or father, who would just say, “This one, again?” 

Jason and the Argonauts (1963), Mysterious Island  (1961), or a Sinbad movie. These films were the foundation stones upon  which my imagination was built. 

Even though the early 80’s belonged to  George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, I always held the Harryhausen films  in special regard. Before I even learned his name, I knew these films  were connected – I recognized the stop-motion animation and the look of  the monsters. (Of course that centaur only has one eye. He’s probably  related to those cyclopes in The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.) 

These films had special  special effects. Having watched just about every non-R-rated fantasy  movie on the video store shelves, I knew there was a significant  difference between One Million B.C. (1940), the Victor Mature movie with lizards and armadillos posing as dinosaurs, and One Million Years B.C.  (1966), the remake with Harryhausen’s pterodactyls lifting Raquel Welch  off the ground. 

You can’t dress a lizard up to look like a pterodactyl.  

The funny thing is that I was appreciating the films from a  point-of-view that was already becoming outdated. The days of  stop-motion were coming to an end, with his swan song, Clash of the Titans  (1981), released around the time that I was just beginning to  appreciate his films. 

Though both Lucas and Spielberg used stop-motion  effects in Star Wars (1977) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), by the end of the decade The Abyss (1989) would announce a new direction for cinema tricks. 

-Midnight Only

Both Brian Clemens and Ray Harryhausen plunder world mythology somewhat indiscriminately. Which more often than not resulted in a kind of peculiar multi-cultural polyglot. Not that it matters, of course, but it is curious.

The golden voyage of Sinbad 4
Caroline Munro looks splendid in her costume, low cut almost everywhere. The rest of the cast support well. Tom Baker is excellent as the villain Koura. He makes him sympathetic; what drives him is common to all people. He just uses different means to gain his ends. He dominates the scenes he is in and it is a pity that more big screen roles never came his way. He was the best ‘Doctor Who’ in the BBC series, in my opinion of course. A good fantasy romp to appeal to the adventurer in all of us. Did I mention Caroline Munro’s costume? Oh, I did.

Today, as an adult, I guess that I am more of a purist. But as a kid, nah… who the heck cared? Consider their broad paintbrush. There is Kali from Hindu religion, a griffin and combination centaur/cyclops from the Greek myths, the homunculus from mediaeval alchemy, Lemuria, and of course the backdrop from the Arabian Nights cycle.

As an aside, did you know that the idea of Lemuria was first posited by biologist Ernst Haeckel in the 1870s. It preceded the notion of continental drift. It was used with the belief of a sunken land in order to  explain how lemurs managed to get between  Africa and India. Later, this theory was bastardized and quickly appropriated by the 19th  Century Theosophist movement.
The golden voyage of Sinbad 5
‘Golden Voyage’ is much better than the later ‘Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger’ and equal to the earlier ‘Seventh Voyage of Sinbad’. The Harryhausen creatures are impressive. Stop motion animation does give solidity to the image, more so than the usual CGI effect. There are some fine ones here including a one eyed centaur, a homunculus, a griffin, a six armed statue, a ship’s wooden figurehead. The story is standard but the effects, the locations and the plot weave together well. There is also a dry humor in the dialogue which is entertaining. Scenes like the sword fight with the six armed statute (with six swords!) or the final confrontation at the fountain of wisdom (or something like that) are exciting. The great Miklos Rosza’s music adds considerably to the atmosphere. John Philip Law is OK as Sinbad and does attempt an Arabian accent unlike the usual English one, but the role isn’t Shakespearean and he does well enough.

All of this trivality is far less important than the spectacular beauty of Ray Harryhausen’s various set-pieces. Which, by this time, were at the absolute peak of their form.

Harryhausen offers us [1] a six-armed statue of Kali brought to life in a sword-duel; [2] a to-the-death battle between a griffin and a cyclopean centaur; [3] a magically animated ship’s figurehead; and, best of all, [4] the homunculus that Tom Baker brings to life, teasing and prodding it, as it lies pinned to a table.

Sinbad the sailor using an early version of Google Maps.
Sinbad the sailor using an early version of Google Maps. This is a fine fantasy/adventure film, and definitely one worth watching by any fans of the genre, as well as Ray Harryhausen fans. The main problem is that the film tends to meander at times. There are also a few minor problems with direction or editing, such as the less-than-convincing sword fight in the cave near the end of the film. Also, the mostly episodic nature of the script lessens the overall impact. It often feels like a string of short stories arbitrarily strung together, although in the end, the overarching goal ties the film together well enough. But what “short stories” those are!
Harryhausen, who made this film with his longtime collaborator and  co-producer Charles H. Schneer, was careful to separate this film from 7th Voyage; he seemed to dislike the label of “sequel.” (In his 2003 book An Animated Life, Harryhausen states that he and Schneer even “strenuously” tried to avoid the term regarding Eye of the Tiger, curiously enough.) 

Indeed, the viewer need not have seen the former film, though naturally it exists in its shadow. The 7th Voyage of Sinbad is a classic of fantasy filmmaking to stand beside its chief inspiration, The Thief of Bagdad (1940). 

Golden Voyage  is just another fun Harryhausen movie, the perfect way to pass a  Saturday afternoon. 

Law does a credible job as our new Sinbad (replacing  7th Voyage‘s Kerwin Mathews), embodying Harryhausen’s image of the Arabian Nights hero: handsome, athletic, but not a bodybuilder. 

The  story, conceived by Harryhausen and revised, polished, and scripted by  Brian Clemens (of the TV series The Avengers, as well as Captain Kronos,  which also featured Caroline Munro), sends Sinbad on a treasure hunt on  behalf of a disfigured Vizier in a golden mask (Douglas Wilmer, Jason and the Argonauts).  

Their quest involves retrieving the lost pieces of an amulet, which  will point the way to an ancient, magical source of great knowledge and  power. 

There’s always an evil magician in pursuit, of course, and in  this case it’s Baker’s Prince Koura, who controls gargoyle-like  homunculi and lusts after the same prize. 

The story might be  perfunctory, but it’s well-paced, with attractive location shooting in  Spain to stand in for both the fictionalized Middle East and Lemuria. (Plans to shoot in India – which would have provided a wonderful look to the film – were discarded after hearing horror stories about “appalling  red tape and bureaucracy” encountered by other Hollywood productions shooting there.) 

Composer Miklós Rózsa (The Thief of Bagdad, Ben-Hur) is the ideal stand-in for 7th Voyage‘s Bernard Herrmann, capturing the appropriate “Orientalist” feel. 

 -Midnight Only 

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad is also notable for many of the up-and-coming stars. There is Tom Baker who, the following year, would become the fourth incarnation of tv’s Doctor Who (1963-89). There is cult queen Caroline Munro; and Martin Shaw, later hunk hero of Clemens’ superior action man tv show The Professionals.

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad 7
The script, production/set design and costumes easily propel you into a captivating fantasy world, and Harryhausen’s creatures, as always, are a delight to watch. No, they’re not exactly realistic–no more realistic looking than cgi, in my opinion–but I’m not looking for realism when I watch a film like this. I’m looking for brilliant artistry, especially if it is an adventure with pretty girls, and Harryhausen’s stop-motion animated creatures fit the bill.

Conclusion

This is a great movie to introduce the kids to, to spend a lazy hazy august afternoon, or just to relax to. There are some amazing scenes, and nowhere else in movie-land will you see a six-armed statue of Kali which performs an Indian dance before dueling against Sinbad’s men with six swords. I enjoyed it and I think that maybe you the reader would enjoy it as well.

Ray Harryhausen’s other films

Links

Torrent Links

You can watch it for free if you don’t mind waiting a half an hour to half a day to download the torrent.

For those of you who are unaware. Torrents are parts of files that are spread out in tiny packets all over the internet. You use a "Bit Torrent" client to vacuum up all those little bits and pieces of the file. It then assembles the file into a movie that you can watch. The time that this takes can vary from a few minutes to weeks depending on how popular or obscure your searched file is.

You will need an application to manage the download. I recommend the free application VUZE. To download the video is thus easy. Install VUZE, and then click on one of the following torrent links.

Depending on where you live, you might not have the freedom to access these sites and the ISP might block them from access, or the search engines might black out their search results. Americans, in particular, might have some real problems. Therefore, I listed the most accessible torrent sites available to Americans. Pirate Bay and 1337X. I think that Kick Ass Torrents is still blocked for all Americans.

Movies that Inspired Me

Here are some movies that I consider noteworthy and worth a view. Enjoy.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.
Jason and the Argonauts

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
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When Hollywood still made good movies; Jason and The Argonauts (1963)

Here we look at a wonderful, much under-appreciated, movie with special effects by Ray Harryhausen. It’s title is “Jason and The Argonauts” and it is simply beyond awesome. Words cannot describe what an impact that this move had on me as a young boy in the 1960’s.

But I will try…

There is a spectacular sequence in Harryhausen's most popular picture  "Jason and the Argonauts" in which Jason and his crew do battle with  seven sword fighting skeletons. 

This is surely one of the greatest  special effects sequences in motion picture history. There are shots in  which the screen is filled with the men fighting all seven skeletons.  

This means that Harryhausen would have to move each of the seven  skeletons such that they match the chaotic live action footage of the  men mock-fighting, shoot a frame, move them again one by one, shoot a  frame, and so on. 24 frames make one second of action. 

It is hard to  imagine how Harryhausen did all the special effects on his films solo  (save for his first and last films, on which he had help). And it is not  surprising that the skeleton sequence from "Jason" took him four months  to complete. 

 -Great Movies of my Childhood 

This was one of those films I always remember seeing as a child and I will absolutely never forgot those skeletons which I think is Ray Harryhausen’s best work.

Ah. The skeletons

Summary

It’s Greek mythology placed on screen; larger than life.

(Well-known & quite famous) Greek hero Jason takes a group by ship to search for the Golden Fleece. It’s not an easy sail. He uses the latest in nautical technology for the time, including a high-tech ship complete with magical navigational aides. However the crew has to encounter several dangers on the way.

The dangers start to raise their ugly heads when they lay anchor at an island to obtain provisions. You see this island is filled with bronze statues. In case you are unaware, bronze statues at that time was equivalent to swarm drones, and Mach-3 jet fighters.

Since these bronze statues are so valuable, the crew starts to get some funny and crazy ideas. One of the crew decides to go into one of the bronze statue guarded tombs. You know, to “look around”. He sees a beautiful gold sword, and of course… he just has to have it. So he takes it….

Big mistake.

This act wakes up Talos. Talos is the guardian of all the tombs. Thus, Talos comes to life and attacks the crew. Now, Talos is this big terminator bronze statue. It goes on an absolute rampage killing, crushing and destroying everything.

The good news is that eventually Talos is destroyed. Though, not without a cost. For during their escape from Talos, their ship is destroyed.

So, here they are trapped on the island. They start to explore it. They search for food water, and (perhaps) loot. While on the search of the island, they come across a blind man. This poor fella is being attacked by two cheeky Harpies who keep eating his food.

Eventually, they all get captured.

They continue their journey and encounter Neptune (he’s a major player; a God of that time) and arrive at their ultimate destination. Which is the island where the Golden Fleece is.

Before getting the Golden Fleece, Jason must fight and kill a Hydra. A Hydra is a many headed beast that likes to eat humans. Well, (spoiler alert) he does manage to kill it. The best part of the movie is of course those skeletons near the end. Jason manages to defeat them when they fall off a cliff into the sea. Hooray!

This has to be one of, if not the best, of Harryhausen’s movies. And, Bernard Herrmann was responsible for the excellent music.

The Movie

Jason and the Argonauts battles it out with The 7th Voyage of Sinbad as the most popular Ray Harryhausen epic. I know that I have a difficult time deciding which movie is better. (Though, Ray Harryhausen has indicated that Jason and the Argonauts his very own personal favorite. )

They certainly must have had fun filming it.

The crew filmed many of the scenes on beautify sunny Italian locations. These locations gave the movie special significance, and I’m sure the jealously of the rest of Hollywood. For at that time (when the picture was produced) most “sword ‘n’ sandal” movies were shot on Hollywood stages, or barring that, in the California desert a mere few hours drive away.

This movie is chock full of testosterone-filled animation interspersed with actors engaged in theatrical dramatic scenes. The colors, the story line, the visuals, and the novelty all play a significant role in the success of this movie.

In the wake of computer generated graphics, Harryhausen's work may strike some as dated, but this is actually part of its charm, for we will never see its like on screen again; it has a certain visual appeal not found in contemporary films, and Harryhausen's creations always have remarkable personality.  

Topping the cake is an absolutely superb score by Bernard Herrmann. This guy is so good, and the music so powerful, that it’s mentally difficult to separate his music from Harryhausen’s amazing images. (This is my plug for this artist.)

At the time, this movie was the F/X dream, for that time period. Much like how the movie The Matrix revolutionized movies and scripts. This movie set a pace and a high bar for other adventures to follow. And, I am sad to say, it was so high that few movies did actually follow.

Jason on board his ship.
Jason on board his ship. The film as a whole is very much like a superior sword-and-sandal epic of the 1950s and 1960s, very colorful and over-run with manly men and beautiful dancing girls. A bit slow to start, once the story line is established the pace leaps forward–and we are treated to some of Harryhausen’s most enjoyable creations, including Talos, the bronze statue; two of the most evil looking harpies you can imagine; a really nasty hydra; and Harryhausen’s most famous (and his own personal favorite) bit of work: an attack by skeleton warriors.

This movie is an adaptation of the Greek story about Jason and the Golden Fleece.

Most people will find this film an excellent choice as a “family night” film. As for Harryhausen fans–the film is a must-see, must-own, and must-watch as often as possible!

In Greek mythology, the Golden Fleece is the fleece of the golden-woolled, winged ram, which was heldin Colchis. The fleece is a symbol of authority and kingship. It figures in the tale of the hero Jason and his crew of Argonauts, who set out on a quest for the fleece by order of King Pelias, in order to place Jason rightfully on the throne of Iolcus in Thessaly. Through the help of Medea, they acquire the Golden Fleece. The story is of great antiquity and was current in the time of Homer. 

-Wilipedia

Luckily, the movie adaptation doesn’t take too many liberties with the root mythological tale. Though purists would argue that it actually does go off the deep end (This opinion varies considerably depending on which source is consulted.).

In this movie, we have the interplay of the Greek Gods, and their role over the lives of men. The movie places the Gods in a gilded Olympus paradise. The well-paired Zeus and Hera, are husband & wife deities that work out their domestic squabbles by playing chess games. Only the chess games use ambitious mortals like Jason.

All in all, they manage to keep tabs on Jason’s adventures by viewing a kind of celestial television. (!)

Jason and The Argonauts
Jason and The Argonauts. Jason was an ancient Greek mythological hero who was the leader of the Argonauts whose quest for the Golden Fleece featured in Greek literature. He was the son of Aeson, the rightful king of Iolcos. He was married to the sorceress Medea. He was also the great-grandson of the messenger god Hermes, through his mother’s side.

The Olympian interludes add a wry humor to the proceedings. Though, myself, I found life on Olympias rather dull and boring.

Jason shows up as the “man with one sandal” to fulfill a curse placed on the venal King Pelias. I know, I know… It’s difficult to translate. I just figure that it’s a matter of identity politics and leave it at that.

The wild quest to bring back the prize of the Golden Fleece gets a thumbs-up from the collected deities. I figure that this is mainly because Pelias wants Jason out of the way.

Thus, the King sends along his son Acastus to make sure that everything goes as planned.

With a crack crew of athletes and warriors, including the popular Hercules , Jason sets sail in a proud ship built by Argos. After tangling with various fantastic obstacles (after all, that is what heroes do) put in his path by Zeus, Jason reaches the far-off land of Colchis.

Oh Jason. He falls in love with the sorceress Medea. But what do you expect. He falls victim to treachery. It turns out that Medea’s father King Aeëtes has absolutely no intention of allowing the Argonauts steal his nation’s most prized possession.

A great deal could be written about the numerous choices made in  reconstructing the story for a modern movie-going audience, but for our  purposes, we are going to zero in on one of the film’s most memorable  components. No, not Jason. Not Argonauts, either. I’m talking, of  course, about the mountainous man of bronze, Talos.
 
There’s a wealth of reasons why Jason and the Argonauts continues to entertain over half a century later, and Talos is most certainly one of the biggest. 

Literally. Brought to life through the inimitable stop motion effects of the late, great Ray Harryhausen,the towering Talos appears early in the film to give the Argonauts a considerable thrashing after Heracles unwittingly disturbs his slumber.  

It’s generally unwise to steal broach pins from the gods for use as a  javelin, but Heracles evidently didn’t get that particular memo.

-GRST 202 Blog

Of all of Ray Harryhausen’s movies, Jason and the Argonauts is closest to his heart. In life, he found mythological fantasies more exciting than science fiction monsters. As such, he wanted very much to tell the story of the Golden Fleece in classic terms.

Talos
It shouldn’t take much brain power to reason why Columbia Pictures produced Jason and the Argonauts as a fantasy epic in the early 1960s. As one of the oldest known hero tales, Jason’s quest is chock full of what we would nowadays consider archetypal elements of the genre: the stoic protagonist, the repulsive villain, a dangerous romance, a clearly defined objective, impossible odds, and of course, a series of treacherous obstacles that provide the spectacle. In short, it’s an easy sell.

The film is of course now a legend unto itself and contains some of Harryhausen’s most difficult animation and classiest designs.

  • The bronze giant Talos creates an intimidating sense of scale as it stalks Jason’s men on a beach.
  • The harpies scream and claw as they’re captured, apparently animated while under a net.
  • The seven-headed Hydra is Harryhausen’s most successful mythological creation, a beast so well designed that it seems biologically credible.
  • The skeletal “Children of the Hydra’s Teeth” do much more than top the single skeleton warrior in 7th Voyage. Soldiers battling armies of the dead recur in classical paintings, giving the combat a macabre edge. The sight of Jason and his swordsmen fighting them en masse is also a brilliant substitute for the lame battle scenes of other sword ‘n’ sandal epics.

Indeed, those skeletal beings were a triumph of Harryhausen’s F/X technique. Truthfully, the sequence must have required more animation work than the rest of the movie put together. You can easily see this, as the seven skeletons fight in so many individual camera setups.

Unlike most Harryhausen set pieces, the skeleton battle constantly cuts to new angles. With so much happening simultaneously in each shot, it’s hard to keep up — which prompts the use of words like, “breathtaking”.

 Talos, of course, has a history deeply rooted in classical Greek  myth. Often considered the earliest conceptualization of a robot, Talos  is usually found associated with the gods Hephaestus and Zeus. Sometimes  he’s a leftover of the Zeus-created bronze generation, other times he’s  the offspring or father of Hephaestus, sometimes he’s a gift from Zeus  to King Minos, other times a gift from Hephaestus to Zeus – the  permutations are endless. 

Regardless of the myth, however, one connection remains consistent: the Cretan word from which Talos derives his name – talios, meaning “sun” – was frequently used by those islanders as a name for the king of the gods himself.  Not only does this shared use of the term allude to the giant’s  immense power, but it also hints at his role as a somewhat paternal  figure. Indeed, Talos was known as the tireless guardian of Crete, a  sentinel who would circumambulate the island three times daily to  moderate the behavior and livelihood of its citizens.  

Moreover, he would vigorously defend his land from any intruders, and  in keeping with his solar-derived name, his preferred method of  executing perceived threats was, by all accounts, incineration.  Depending on who you ask, the giant would either snatch up poor souls  and leap with them into a flaming vat, or he would heat up his own  metallic body to incredible degrees and scorch his opponents through  mere physical interaction. 

His  love of turning folks to ash was unfortunately excised from his  on-screen debut, but that does not make his appearance in the film any  less memorable.

 Though traditionally depicted as Crete’s conservator, Jason and the Argonauts finds  Talos holding watch over the aptly named (and movie-created) “Isle of  Bronze,” placed there by Hephaestus to guard Zeus’s armory.  

-GRST 202 Blog 

Kids back in 1963 reacted strongly to almost everything in the picture.

Tipped off by Famous Monsters magazine, many of us waited anxiously for the next jolting effects scene to begin. We were also thrilled by Nigel Green’s hale & hearty Hercules and cheered the announcement of his name. We fully accepted the idea that a strong man shouldn’t have to be so buff that he couldn’t walk through a normal door.

Famous Monsters Magazine
Tipped off by Famous Monsters magazine, many of us waited anxiously for the next jolting effects scene to begin. We were also thrilled by Nigel Green’s hale & hearty Hercules and cheered the announcement of his name. We fully accepted the idea that a strong man shouldn’t have to be so buff that he couldn’t walk through a normal door.

As in The Magnificent Seven, the assembling of Jason’s all-star collection of sailors / assault troops primed us for what we hoped would be the greatest sword & spear battle of all time. And… and we were not disappointed.

Jason fights a giant bronze statue.
One of the most legendary adventures in all mythology is brought to life in Jason and the Argonauts, an epic saga of good and evil. As a mere boy Jason, the heir to the kingdom of Ancient Greece, witnesses the murder of his father at the hands of his ruthless uncle, Pelias.

The film’s smoothly professional acting impressed me.

With all of those classy English accents flying about, Jason and the Argonauts had a credibility that the various Sons of Hercules lacked. Even the middle-aged Laurence Naismith looked righteously rugged, dressed only in a loincloth and clinging to the prow of the Argo: “Pull ’til your hearts burst and your backs break!”

 You see, Talos might be made of bronze, but he draws his life force from a single vein flowing down his back to his heel, where it is stopped by some sort of large plug. Whether described as a nail or a pin, that plug naturally  gets pulled at some point by one of the heroes, thus draining Talos of life. In many cases that hero is Medea, who uses trickery to deceive the  living statue, while in others it is the Argonaut Poeas who knocks out the stopper with his trusty bow and arrow.  

Seeing as how the adventurers have yet to encounter Medea at this point  in the film and that Poeas is absent entirely, the eponymous hero himself takes up the deed, acting under the guidance of Hera. Even  disregarding the aforementioned characters’ absences, it makes sense to  thrust this duty upon Jason in this context. As his first act of true  heroism, the defeat of the Talos establishes Jason as a courageous leader and a man fit for this epic quest – someone capable of navigating the many challenges that lie ahead. 

-GRST 202 Blog  

In his old “Film Fantasy Scrapbook” Harryhausen mentioned that he was impressed by the fact that the hero Jason’s big quest is really a raid for loot. He believed that the Argonauts are little more than thieves.

Those foreigners beyond the clashing rocks have exactly what Greece needs, a magic charm that brings peace, plenty and prosperity.

Jason as a nice-guy hero doesn’t get in the way of the colorful supporting actors and the giant monsters. However, it’s quite odd to see Medea as virtuous. After all, she sells out her father, her country and her religion for a fling with the new boy in town.

Obviously, there’s a reason why the movie doesn’t dig into the psychology behind the myths. And it shouldn’t. For Jason and the Argonauts is a splendid fantasy of spectacular adventure no more and no less.

Jason fights a many headed monster.
Jason has been prophesied to take the throne of Thessaly. When he saves Pelias from drowning, but does not recognize him as the man who had earlier killed his father, Pelias tells Jason to travel to Colchis to find the Golden Fleece. Jason follows his advice and assembles a sailing crew of the finest men in Greece, including Hercules. They are under the protection of Hera, queen of the gods. Their voyage is replete with battles against harpies, a giant bronze Talos, a hydra, and an animated skeleton army, all brought to life by the special effects wizardry of Ray Harryhausen.

It’s been a long time since I last watched this movie. It was on a blistery “school day” when all the roads were iced over, and I was around ten years old at the time. Never the less, the torrent that I watched was spectacular, clear and colorful.

Jason and the Argonauts attend a party.
The legendary Greek hero leads a team of intrepid adventurers in a perilous quest for the legendary Golden Fleece. Jason has been prophesied to take the throne of Thessaly. When he saves Pelias from drowning, but does not recognize him as the man who had earlier killed his father, Pelias tells Jason to travel to Colchis to find the Golden Fleece. Jason follows his advice and assembles a sailing crew of the finest men in Greece, including Hercules. They are under the protection of Hera, queen of the gods. Their voyage is replete with battles against harpies, a giant bronze Talos, a hydra, and an animated skeleton army.

I have read reports that there were alterations to the original film.

For years, 16mm copies of Jason  placed Medea's temple dance way out of sequence, before the Argonauts  reach Colchis. The Blu-ray of course fixes this while improving on all  earlier home video releases. Grover Crisp of Sony wisely chose a  slightly taller 1:66 aspect ratio, which adds image to the top and  bottom of the frame while placing narrow pillars at the sides of the HD  image. Harryhausen purists will be pleased to see less cropping of the  effects. The added color detail of Blu-ray brings out hidden character  in the main title artwork, and gives the green highlights on Talos'  bronze skin more definition. Likewise, the Golden Fleece is returned to  its impressive sparkly-but-organic look -- the golden glow effect has  been toned down quite a bit. 
A beautiful woman rides with Jason in the movie Jason and the Argonauts.
What kind of adventure would Jason and the Argonauts be if there wasn’t a beautiful woman to lead and inspire? That’s what tradition, history and legends all say. And what about this lass. Such a lovely and attractive woman.

I do like the movie, and it’s an absolute fact that the movie uses clever camera tricks and some well made miniatures. Yes, of course the effects all look out dated now but they still surprisingly, look convincing enough and at times they are even still simply breathtaking and spectacular to look at.

Especially of course the legendary, fantastic end fight against the skeleton warriors. The story is like good entertainment should be; Adventurous, exciting and simple to follow. The movie truly is non stop fun entertainment to watch with lots of spectacular moments with the legendary skeleton fight as the ultimate highlight.

You don’t have to be a fan of ‘classic’ movies in order to enjoy this movie, everyone should be able to appreciate this movie and be entertained by it, especially when you are a fan of ancient Greek tales.

Something that is not praised enough of this movie is the musical score by Bernard Herrmann. The movie is not exactly filled with impressive and memorable actors. As many movies as I have seen in my life, I don’t think I have ever seen any actors from this movie in any other movie, with the exception of course of Honor Blackman who will always be remembered for playing the Bond girl Pussy Galore in “Goldfinger”.

But this movie clearly isn’t a character-adventure movie, it’s a special effect adventure movie. The special effects are really the most important element of the movie. So for the fans of special effects this is especially most definitely a must see. A movie that should be fun and enjoyable to everyone, of all ages.

The Gods do like to play.
The Gods do like to play. Here is a scene where two Gods conspire to have some fun, and create some hurtles for Jason and the Argonauts to overcome. Ah, such is Greek myth.

Heracles is presented, not as a young ripped body builder, but as one would expect a middle-aged strong man to be: Formidable, a little grey and a little swaggering. It’s a perfect imagery.

Argos, the ship builder, is tan and fat, as one would expect the veteran of many sea voyages to be.

The crew looks like what one would expect a crew of ancient Greeks to look like. The acting is not spectacular, but sincere. No one looks embarrassed to be in this movie. It is tight with great special effects…

It’s wonderful for children…

Outstanding battle scenes.
As entertainment this movie is perfect. The movie is a fun adventurous one, with lots of spectacular moments and fights. From a technical point of view this movie is even a masterpiece. The stop-motion scene’s created by special effects pioneer Ray Harryhausen is simply brilliant and makes this movie one of the most influential and important one’s, when it comes to special effects.

The seven-headed Hydra is another technical marvel.

Talos. There are some other nifty creatures for Jason and his crew to battle, but for me, the most impressive of them all turns up first: the gigantic Talos, the Man of Bronze.

I was a kid when this came out, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment when the huge, crouched statue came to life, turned his head towards the two men below him (his bronze head screeching with the tear of metal), climbed off of his pedestal, and proceeded to chase Jason and his men.

Fantastic movie with great visuals.
What do I like about this movie…besides Harryhausin’s special effects? Besides the frenetic battle with the skeletons and the seemingly hopeless fight against the statue of Talos? I like the way the people are presented, I suppose…

Talos was giant like Godzilla, but as single-minded as the Terminator: all he wants to do is track Jason’s crew down until he kills them all. This gave me nightmares.

Tom Hanks, who was also a kid when this came out, has said: "Everybody thinks that 'Citizen Kane' was the greatest movie ever made. But if you were young in 1963, you know the real answer is: 'Jason and the Argonauts.'" 
Jason and the Argonauts - the bossman.
This is his finest movie. Possibly. His first “Sinbad” film in 1958 had one moving skeleton for the hero to fight; this one has a whole platoon of them, each part painstakingly moved one tiny distance at a time personally by Harryhausen through stop-motion techniques.

In today’s world it may seem below standard compared to computer effects, but for those of us growing up in that time period, the Harryhausen style of special effects will continue to bring back warm memories of those years. With computer graphics, you see it and like it the first time you see it, but then many movies of today have the same and it becomes moot.

Jason and the Argonauts was one of those few movies at the time along with the Sinbad saga that lives on in your heart. The pace of the film is perfectly put together along with the many creatures, 7-headed hydra, huge fish-man, huge metal man and skeletons fighting is what makes it a classic which lives on in the hearts of those growing up in the sixties.

Dealing with flying Harpies.
Back in 1963 I was only 5 at the time, but I can still remember seeing and watching the movie and being totally awed with the effects created by Ray Harryhausen. Flying and attacking harpies! My goodness!

I enjoyed this as a kid, but now I look at it with different eyes.

Consider the subsequent misery of Jason and Medea, a gory tragedy of domestic abuse and revenge. It’s sad. No wonder there was no sequel to Jason, as the official follow-up is a timeless lesson. Perhaps it’s a lesson on what happens to women who love ambitious and unscrupulous glory-hunters.

Never the less, even with this glimpse of foreboding, I still enjoy the movie.

Greek myths are coded chronicles of human weakness, vice and crimes. I think that smart schoolteachers, politically restrained from addressing real-life issues, can use the Greek original tales to make kids think about the harsh facts of life.

A quiet moment.
Jason and The Argonauts is a great film to watch and escape reality. This is one of those movies that you know is not real but you just enjoy it and have fun watching it anyways. I think this film is underrated because it was not given one Oscar nomination. For certain, I think this film should have been nominated for Best Art Direction and Set Decoration, at the bare minimum. Not to mention, Cinematography, Bernard Herrmann’s Original Score and Film Editing.

As I have already mentioned, the scene that I remember the most (and pershpas what everyone else remembers as well) is the Skeleton Fight at the end which took Ray Harryhausen and special effects crew three months to create that entire sequence.

Talos had me frozen with fear and the Hydra and the skeletons were sights my eyes could not believe. I think that for first-time viewers, you might be somewhat primed for something similar to other movies of this kind of adventure, but Jason and the Argonauts will definitely be anything but what you are expecting.

This is a Great movie and I encourage all of “The Lord of The Rings” fans to watch this and see a great masterpiece of classic fantasy and old fashioned special effects.

A many headed beast.
The fascinating odyssey of Jason in search of the Golden Fleece. This is an adventure movie in the old style, with no pretensions, no pomposity… The genius and pioneer of the special effects Ray Harryhaussen gave us a handful of superhuman creatures who make things quite difficult for the brave Jason. Some may think this special effects or the movie itself are obsolete. OK, now read this: the movie was made 43 years ago, Harryhaussen made them without computers or digital effects… so, show some respect!! In short: the movie is just fantastic.

Most, if not all, children love the film.

And for all one’s intellectual talk about the vulgarising of mythology and the crudity of the screenplay, there is no denying that this movie is spectacular on many levels.

It is blatantly obvious to all viewers that Harryhausen contrived to bring a lot of sparkle, excitement and fun into the world of fantastic cinema. At this he absolutely succeeded.

Gods help the boat pass through.
To regain his rightful place as the King of Thessaly, Jason must traverse deadly seas to the land of Colchis where a Golden Fleece of magical powers is housed. Assembling a crew of the toughest men around, and aided by the Goddess Hera, Jason and his Argonauts set sail unbeknown that perils await at every port.

For sure it’s got a “B” movie heart, and no film in this genre is without a high cheese quota, but it’s technically one of the genres best and for daring do shenanigans it has no peers.

The gorgeous Mediterranean photography courtesy of Wilkie Cooper (Dynamation 90) goes hand in hand with the boisterously mythical score from Bernard Hermann, while Chaffrey's direction of the human aspects is solid and safe in preparation for Harryhausen's magic to move in and take over. The cast may not cover themselves in glory, and yes at times some of them are a touch wooden, with only Honor Blackman (Hera) and Nigel Green (Hercules) seemingly able to grasp the sense of fun that is meant to be had. 

Here, in this movie, we have a big quest adventure containing harpies, a hydra, a giant bronze statue intent on destroying all, clashing rocks, angry gods and a brilliant Harryhausen skeleton army – well it’s all good, really isn’t it!

Here’s an interesting review, but I forgot from whence I dug it up from…

'Jason and the Argonauts' is a truly family fantasy-adventure film,  directed with wit and excitement... Beverley Cross's fine script is both  imaginative and literate, and Bernard Herrmann's score is stirring... 

The  word "Argonaut" comes from a tale sung of the strongest and bravest  band of heroes ever assembled in Greek Mythology... This myth chronicles  Jason's quest for the 'gift of the gods,' and the restoration of his  family's throne... 

There is an interesting theme that runs  through the entire motion picture: man must manage alone without the  help of the gods whether they exist or not... 

In times past,  fate ruled men's lives completely... The gods often amused themselves  with the puny mortal men below... Fate is still an important factor in  Jason's time (He has been prophesied to overthrow King Pelias...), but  man chooses his own life's course... Jason lost his believe in the gods,  and Zeus questions what has taken the place of man's faith in the  gods... Jason replies: "The hearts of men. "

Jason rejects Zeus'  offer to supply him with 'a ship and a crew,' and assembles dozen of  Greece's greatest heroes, including the legendary Hercules...  Nevertheless he accepts Hera's pledge to help him with the information  and advice... 

Jason has learned that prayers to the gods are not  always answered... "The gods are best served by those who want their  help least," Zeus alibis... When humans obtain the help of the gods,  they know they must push forward... For instance, when Triton holds the  quaking mountains, the Argonauts still must navigate their ship away  from the dangerous rocks that continue to fall...

Jason dared to  speak of the end of the gods, and challenges Zeus when he eliminates  Talos, who guards Zeus' treasures... And when the Argonauts imprison the  evil harpies whom Zeus sent to torment a desperate sinner, Zeus admits:  "If I were to punish every blasphemy, I would soon loose all loyalty  and respect." 

Of the gods, Jason says, "In time all men will  have to do without them." Such words alarm Zeus, and he recognizes as  much to Hera, whom he considers "almost human" for staying with him  despite such weakness... But the gods still have enough power to do  their will... At the picture's end Zeus tells Hera that he will allow  Jason and his pretty Medea to enjoy 'each other,' but he adds, "I have  not yet finished with Jason... Let us continue with the game another  day."

Todd Armstrong is the young and hot blooded Jason who  schemes to seize the Golden Fleece from King Aeetes, and saves Pelias  from drowning one day, losing his sandal in the river... 

Nancy Kovack is Medea, the provocative high priestess of Colchis who is charmed with love for Jason and aid him in his quest...

Gary Raymond is Acastus, the son of Pelias sent to disrupt the voyage by causing dissension in the crew...

Niall MacGinnis is Zeus who decides to challenge Jason and the Argonauts with many trials...

Honor Blackman is the cunning Hera, the queen of the gods, who outmaneuvered  Zeus, and intervened on several occasions to facilitate Jason's tasks...  Hera wishes to destroy Pelias because he was treacherous and her temple  was profane... 

Michael Gwynn is Hermes who transports Jason to Olympus to speak with the gods... 

Jack Gwillim is King Aeetes who collects the hydra's teeth from its seven heads, and confronts Jason high on a cliff...

John Cairney is the clever Hylas who uses his intelligence to beat Hercules in a test of skill... 

Douglas Wilmer is the nefarious Pelias, who plots a devious plan to send Jason on an impossible quest, in a faraway land, to fetch the magical Golden  Fleece... 

Nigel Green is Hercules, the bravest and strongest  warrior who vows to search the Isle of Bronze until he finds his friend  Hylos...

Patrick Troughton is the old and weak Phineas cursed  with an insatiable appetite and the flying harpies left enough putrid  morsels for him to survive his torment...

'Jason and the  Argonauts' is a tale of love and betrayal, friendship and fortune... It  is nearly 40 years old but it still holds up as one of the semi-classic  mythological fantasy which provides a framework for some splendid  stop-frame animation... 

Jason and the Argonauts is a fun movie. 

The open ended nature of the story does hurt the film, but just come for the classic effects.  Fans of mythology will enjoy the adventure, and it could introduce kids to classic stories.  Jason and the Argonauts is definitely worth revisiting or seeking out if you’ve never seen it.

It’s also perfect fare for those lazy dog-day afternoons, or snowed-in weekends. It entertains on numerous levels. It is visually appealing, and wondrous overall.

Links

Here’s some links that you all might find of interest.

Torrent Links

You can watch it for free if you don’t mind waiting a half an hour to half a day to download the torrent.

For those of you who are unaware. Torrents are parts of files that are spread out in tiny packets all over the internet. You use a "Bit Torrent" client to vacuum up all those little bits and pieces of the file. It then assembles the file into a movie that you can watch. The time that this takes can vary from a few minutes to weeks depending on how popular or obscure your searched file is.

You will need an application to manage the download. I recommend the free application VUZE. To download the video is thus easy. Install VUZE, and then click on one of the following torrent links.

Depending on where you live, you might not have the freedom to access these sites and the ISP might block them from access, or the search engines might black out their search results. Americans, in particular, might have some real problems. Therefore, I listed the most accessible torrent sites available to Americans. Pirate Bay and 1337X. I think that Kick Ass Torrents is still blocked for all Americans.

Movies that Inspired Me

Here are some movies that I consider noteworthy and worth a view. Enjoy.

The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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When Hollywood still made good movies; The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1957)

Ray Harryhausen was a mainstay of my childhood. His movies were regular features on the Saturday matinees — on television, not in theaters; I’m not THAT old! — and they sucked me in every time. How could they not? No sane young boy would be anything but engrossed by giant creatures slugging it out with heroes in sandals, and Harryhausen’s creatures were AWESOME.

-Revisiting Ray Harryhausen’s 1958 classic, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad

It’s no secret that Hollywood has gone over the deep end and into the abyss of the bland and uninteresting.

It’s a combination of things. Firstly [1] , an over reliance on CGI and computer animation has somehow replaced decent story-telling and the passions inherent in the traditional movie genre. Secondly [2], the invasion of Political Correctness and rewrites for the LGBT crowd, and the war on white males, and traditional male roles has pretty much isolated Hollywood to the Land of the Loons. Thirdly [3], an over reliance on classical superheroes… you know, suddenly by magic, a person gets super-powers… get’s dull really quick. Finally, fourthly [4], just how many sequels do you need to make before the customers stop coming to the theaters?

Here’s some examples of contemporaneous Hollywood fare…

Yup Hollywood is going the way of the Dodo Bird, and like their political leadership, haven’t a clue as to how absolutely ridiculous they look to us “normal’s” in the audience.

But, at one time, Hollywood was truly the stuff of dreams. There, the studios produced some amazing movie flicks. These were the stuff of dreams, and tales of adventure. And, for I, a young boy… Hollywood movies took me to places where my imagination could soar and explore.

Let’s talk about one such movie. The Ray Harryhausen classic “The 7th Voyage of Sinbad”.

The Tale of a Lifetime

The visuals in the movie were amazing. Anyone who has seen this movie when it first came out (late 50’s) was forever a different person for the better. This dynamic even continues to this day too.

Millions saw this when they were in their teens or younger and it brought out an array of emotions the body had not experienced before. There is wonder, adventure, thrills, suspense, love, good, bad, and monsters that make you wonder how can you fight them and live? Sinbad shows you all this and more and he became a role model and hero for the multitudes.

No doubt, it is an amazing movie.

Come on! Seriously. Giant birds, crabby cyclops, dragons, skeleton warriors, and a snake woman? Just another day at the office for Sinbad the Sailor.

Throw in an evil sorcerer, a mutinous crew, and having to not only rescue his fiancee, but also find some way to un-shrink her. Talk about having too much on “your plate”. You can well understand why this particular Sinbad set about his seventh voyage with a stern and brave face, very little humor and negligible cheer.

This movie is genius.

Other films of his have very challenging special effects too. If you  have not watched any of his films, YouTube them and watch the brilliant  sequences. That'll convince you. Try the sequence where the cowboys try  to "rope" Gwangi, in which Harryhausen had to painstakingly match the  ropes on the live action footage to the ropes on his stop-motion model.  Or the tug of war in "Mighty Joe Young,"  using a similar technique. Or the sequence with the giant bird from  "Mysterious Island," which works well with Bernard Herrmann's goofy  score. Or the Washington destruction scenes in "Earth vs. Flying  Saucers." Or It from "It Came From Beneath the Seas." Or Pegasus in  "Clash of the Titans," or Medusa, from the same film. Or anything from  "The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad," my personal favorite film of his. 

 - Great Movies of my Childhood  

This was a movie that I couldn’t tear my eyes from. I was totally and complete immersed in the story line, though as a young boy, it was kind of difficult to follow. Never the less, the visuals were amazing and absolutely drew me in.

Now the story is a classic. It’s an adventure, so of course, you pull the story out from classic adventure stories that have stood the passage of time.

Apparently this is a pretty old classic story from the 1001 Arabian Nights, of course no longer taught in schools as not progressive enough. It is the story of adventure when a ships crew makes an unexpected stop at an island.

Fortune fall upon us all

The best thing about this movie is that there Hasn’t been any remakes of it.

It’s true. Can you imagine what the remakes would be like? OMG! I just get sick trying to imagine it all…

  • 1970s – The first sequel; Sinbad falls in love with a black single-parent woman.
  • 1980s – “We Are the World” meets Sinbad the Sailor.
  • 1990s – CGI animation, heavily pixelated and dark.
  • 2000s – Matrix style fight scenes with the three headed chick.
  • 2010s – X-men join forces with Sinbad to fight the Cyclops.
  • 2020s – Sinbad is a woman, as are the entire crew, all females.

Storyline

Sinbad is a man of the world. A seaman who travels the known world. As this is his seventh voyage, we knew that he was well experienced in the ways of monsters, magic and pretty attractive lasses. He has a crew of trusty seamen, and ship that is pretty state-of-the-art for the time-period.

So off he goes. His ship and crew sail off towards adventure…

Dinner for the one-eyed horned cyclops.
Dinner for the one-eyed horned cyclops. You most certainly wouldn’t want to be caught by this fella, and my goodness, who knows what fate you might be expected to endure. You know, when salt and pepper get into your eyes, it hurts!

He sails and sails.

When Sinbad finally spots land, he doesn’t yet know what island it is. (He didn’t have GPS, and Google was of absolutely no use to him.) He just doesn’t know that the island’s name is Colossa. Hum. Colossa could that have something to do with the word “colossal”? You’d think he’d take a hint.

Nor does he know that it’s the ancient world’s equivalent of Monster Island. Now, for some reason or the other, Sinbad has his old lady on board with him. She’s a real cutie, and can you blame him. After all, he’s the famous Sinbad.

Her name is Princess Parisa. She has cute dimples, a nice rack and a very curvaceous backside. You see, she and Sinbad are going to be married and help seal a peace pact between their two lands. It kind of sucks for her, but she gets a hero in the bargain, and all in all, by the standards of society at that time and place, it’s a pretty sweet deal for her.

Grant (who would go on to marry Bing Crosby) is an absolute delight as the princess, the kid playing the genie in the lamp should have been annoying but was actually quite a charming little tyke, and Torin Thatcher is wonderfully bombastic as the evil wizard Sokurah. They help carry the human element of the movie in a way Mathews’ Sinbad never does. 

 -Revisiting Ray Harryhausen’s 1958 classic, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad 

Once he makes landfall on the island, he demonstrates just how preoccupied he must be with the impending wedding. You can tell, because he makes some really boneheaded decisions. You know, decisions that would charitably be called “insane.”

A cyclops looking at his dinner.
This colorful adventure is the screen version of one of the classic tales from “1001 Arabian Nights.” It tells the story of Sinbad (Kerwin Mathews) and Princess Parisa (Kathryn Grant). When they unexpectedly stop on the island of Colossa on their way to Baghdad, they find themselves battling all types of dangers, such as evil magicians, man-eating Cyclopes, fire- breathing dragons, and sword-wielding skeletons.

So, let’s say you’re on a mysterious island in a world where terrible monsters still run amok occasionally.

Let’s also say that you notice strange footprints in the sand. These strange footprints are not only odd because of their shape (cloven hooves – eek!), but also because they are so far apart. As someone notes, this is indicative of a rather large stride and by extension, a rather large creature.

Now what could that possibly mean? I mean, what would you do, if you saw hoof prints that large?

Multi-headed multi-bird thing creature.
Multi-headed multi-bird thing creature. What would you do if you confronted a strange chick the size of a fire-truck? And, by chick I mean a bird, not a cute young lass.

Okay, let’s say you know all that and still you venture forth into the unknown.

Now, you have landed on this mysterious island. You and your crew starts to walk upon the sandy beach. And now when you walk further up the beach you notice carved in the side of a mountain, a strange face with the mouth being the entrance of a cave.

Not an everyday occurrence.

What do you do? Well, in spite of it being painfully obvious that this is the front door of a cyclops house, you decide to do some pretty messed up things. I mean, haven’t you ever learned that some things say “keep out” and run for the hills. But NOOOOO!

What does Sinbad do? Well, he decides to run right the hell in there just to see if anyone is home!

The pure awesomeness of this movie is evident when you observe a one-eyed horned cyclops with goat like legs confronting a chained dragon.
The pure awesomeness of this movie is evident when you observe a one-eyed horned cyclops with goat like legs confronting a chained dragon. Now you would think that the dragon would trump a one-eyed cyclops… you know that old depth-perception angle. But the movie has a number of surprises for the viewing audience.

What do you think happens? Yup. It’s a lot of screaming, yelling, terror and blood and guts. Not to mention a chomp and gulp. Yes, it’s a story of lots of guys getting chased by a really pissed off cyclops.

Enter a sorcerer named Sokurah.

He’s a bald guy with a magic lamp that saves Sinbad and his crew by using the genie’s powers to erect a transparent barrier to keep the cyclops back. I’ll bet that you didn’t know that Genie’s had the power to erect repulse fields, did you?

Now, I have some bad news.

Unfortunately this doesn’t stop the cyclops from chucking big rocks at the departing boat. This causes everyone on the boat to fall overboard and in all the confusion Sokurah loses his magic lamp.

Now, this magic lamp is really special. Think of it like the latest iphone, or the keys to the Lamborghini. It contains a Genie. But this Genie is not just like any other Genie. Those “lower” Genies have wish-limitations. Most can only grant three wishes. Not this Genie. No. He instead grants unlimited wishes.

Obviously the loss of such a power, such a lamp, is a big disappointment.

Sinbad meets a princess.
In the scenes featuring a shrunken Princess Parisa. Now look at this mess. How are going to have sex once they are married? And what about the children? Obviously Sinbad has to do something, and thus Sinbad does his best to help her. In the process goes on an adventure of a lifetime. It is one filled with strange sights, strange and dangerous beings, and magic of all sorts and types.

Again, there is a lot of treading water, splashes and panic.

Once back on board his main boat, Sokurah demands that they return back to the island. You know, after all, it’s pretty cool having a Genie with unlimited wishes. Heck, if it was me, I’d go back.

No. Sinbad is a different person.

Sinbad refuses Sokurah’s entreaties to go back to the island and retrieve his lamp which by this time has fallen into the hands of the cyclops. Sinbad says “No time, baldy. I’m gonna get married to my most excellent girlfriend. And, you know what? I still have to hire a band and D.J. for my wedding, but you’re welcome to come to my bachelor party once we’re back in Bagdad.”

Meetup with a Genie.
Here we have a tiny miniaturized princess inside a Genie’s bottle to talk with the Genie face to face. What a movie! You know, Harryhausen spearheaded a turn from scifi monsters to mythology and adventure for the first time with The 7th Voyage of Sinbad. In this movie he ended up crossbreeding special-effects-based spectacle with traditional swashbuckling heroics. For the first time, in this movie, Harryhausen got to make a feature in color, and he debuted his new technique, called Dynamation, which allowed more sophisticated, layered interaction between photographic elements.

Sokurah offers to provide some entertainment at some of the pre-wedding festivities in hopes of currying favor with the Caliph.

The Caliph of Baghdad (Alec Mango) feels the same way, even after Sokurah amazes the court by conjuring up a snake-woman. Yes, this SOB ended up turning Parisa’s maid into a snake woman. Talk about violation of a work contract!

Meanwhile, he continues to try to convince Sinbad to go back to the island.

Snake woman maid.
Now how would you like your pretty maid to be changed into a a snake woman medusa. Especially a blue one? Not exactly a nice way to curry favor. Obviously this warlock has a real lack of people skills.

He starts to look into the future. He starts by looking into the future of Sinbad and Parisa’s lands. Not surprisingly perhaps, he sees only bad things for everyone. This (unfortunately) doesn’t earn him a ship and a crew of men, but does earn him an ass kicking out of Bagdad.

It is only when the princess is shrunk by an evil spell, the breaking of which requires the shell from the egg of the giant Roc – which (what-da-ya-know) resides on Colossa – that Sokurah can get his expedition mounted, with Sinbad in command.

But it’s not that everything is perfect. With a crew made up of a handful of his bravest men and some of the most desperate convicts in the Caliph’s prison, he has to contend with potential mutiny at every turn. It’s a constant bickering, fighting and arguments. Ugh! In fact, the men are driven almost to madness before they even reach Colossa.

The Genie with Sinbad's future wife.
The Genie gets along with the future Mrs. Sinbad. She crawls into the Genie’s lair and it’s all sort of like the lair from the television show “I dream of Genie”. Together they work out and hatch a plan.

Once there, at the island, they continue to find problems and strife. Obviously, they find terrors as great as the Cyclops and the treachery of the magician, but something else happens. Future Mrs. Sinbad; Parisa – in her tiny state – also discovers the beautiful world inside the lamp, and the lonely boy Genie (Richard Eyer) who inhabits it.

They strike the bargain that, when Sinbad’s bravery is added to the equation, will bring their quest to an end. If, that is, they can all survive the dangers that Sokurah puts in their path.

Sinbad at the helm.
Sinbad at the helm of his state of the art, ocean going vessel. He is the fellow in command, and he over comes everything to achieve his goals and his dreams.

At this point for the record, I would note that when he was told this, no one specifically said that he wasn’t supposed to stop by the princess’s bedroom and use a magic potion to shrink her down to the size of a corndog. It’s a strange world we live in, and when you start mixing magical spells, potions and evil sorcerers together, you will find many surprises awaiting you in the bedroom.

Clearly, the only way to fix this is with the help of a very powerful sorcerer.

Sinbad finds Sokurah just as he’s about to leave town and pleads for his help. It turns out to be no problem for Sokurah to reverse the spell. In fact, he knows the counter-spell and only needs to procure one ingredient. It’s the shell of giant Roc’s egg.

A pensive Sinbad.
Oh, you think that you have it tought in your life. Imagine what it would be like with magic spells, monsters, evil wizards and jealous women. It is no wonder that Sinbad is so pensive.

Ah, the shell of the egg.

But that’s only available on the island of Colossa and we already know you don’t want to go there, right Sinbad? Well, right?

Still politics are politics, and if you don’t play your cards right, the result could be war! Thus, with the princess’s father immediately threatening war on Bagdad (despite Bagdad obviously having nothing to do with the incredible shrinking Parisa – but that’s an argument for another time), a shift in policy occurs and the next thing you know, a ship is being outfitted. As such, a big crossbow is being built and Sinbad is attempting to recruit a crew.

But where would you get a crew from for what is surely a suicide mission right into the heart of monster country?

Sindbad with lovely Parisa.
Sindbad with lovely Parisa. Obviously back up to full size with all the curves in the right places, and ready to experience all that life can throw at her.

Where do most guys for suicide missions come from?

Indeed, you find them at the toughest prison in whatever location the recruiting is being done in! I was thinking that we might be in for a Dirty Dozen-style affair with off-beat characters each with a specialized skill (forger, demolitions expert, scrounger, drunk) that would come in handy for this trek.

The "Big Leagues" Arabian style.
The “Big Leagues” Arabian style. Sinbad and his lovely future bride at the club with the biggest players in the known world (at that time). They are eating fine delicious and exotic foods, and experiencing all the earthly pleasures and delights available to them. Partying on Arabian style.

However, the intention of them being so vicious and crazy that they turn out to be the best dang fighting machine ever assembled doesn’t happen. Instead, these cons are so vicious and crazy that they mutiny as soon as they set sail. Not only that, but they attempt to take over the ship!

Unsurprisingly, the movie is filled with fantastic creatures and some very impressive visuals. The cyclops is a fearsome beast with great animation (based on the critter from 20 Million Miles to Earth) and fantastic integration into most scenes. This guy ranks right up there with the best of Harryhausen. A climactic skeleton battle is also highly impressive, with stunning choreography providing some damned impressive integration with real actors. It’s a stunningly well-realized scene. 

 -Revisiting Ray Harryhausen’s 1958 classic, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad 

Things don’t go any more smoothly once they hit Cyclops Island. If you can imagine. Treasure, a genie, and guy getting roasted alive are among the highlights.

Sinbad promising his future wife that everything will work out fine once he takes care of shopping.
Sinbad promising his future wife that everything will work out fine once he takes care of shopping. First on the list; the dairy isle. He has to go ahead and get some rather large eggs.

Conclusion

This is by far the best of the three fantasy adventure movies that Kerwin Matthews (Sinbad) made during this era. If you have the time and the inclination, I would strongly recommend a rewatch of this movie. Preferably on a hazy hot dog-day afternoon in August, or a cold snowy blistery Saturday afternoon in January. I promise that it will reawaken the boyhood in you (if you are a man), the nurturing and strong lady in you (if you are a lass), or complete revulsion (if you are gender-confused).

Links

Here’s some decent links that you all might want to take a look at.

Torrent Links

You can watch it for free if you don’t mind waiting a half an hour to half a day to download the torrent.

For those of you who are unaware. Torrents are parts of files that are spread out in tiny packets all over the internet. You use a "Bit Torrent" client to vacuum up all those little bits and pieces of the file. It then assembles the file into a movie that you can watch. The time that this takes can vary from a few minutes to weeks depending on how popular or obscure your searched file is.

You will need an application to manage the download. I recommend the free application VUZE. To download the video is thus easy. Install VUZE, and then click on one of the following torrent links.

Depending on where you live, you might not have the freedom to access these sites and the ISP might block them from access, or the search engines might black out their search results. Americans, in particular, might have some real problems. Therefore, I listed the most accessible torrent sites available to Americans. Pirate Bay and 1337X. I think that Kick Ass Torrents is still blocked for all Americans.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
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Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov
The Proud Robot (Full Text)
The Time Locker
Not the First (Full Text) by A.E. van Vogt

My Poetry

My Kitten Knows

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

“The Proud Robot” (Full Text) by Henry Kuttner (Lewis Padgett)

I love this story. It reminds me of…me.

Back in the day, I had amassed many, many tomes and collections of fine science fiction stories. I really loved the works from the “Golden Age” of science fiction, and one of my favorite writers was Lewis Padgett. Not well known, but completely awesome.

He wrote a series of short stories revolving around a mad scientist that produced brilliant work when he was shit-faced drunk. It’s not real life. That’s why I love it so. It’s so anti-PC.

Here is one of his best. This is a lively and often frankly hilarious account of how a very gifted (when under the influence of the demon Drink) scientist struggles to come to grips with the wackiness of his almost-perfect robot.

It’s one of his many, many creations while drunk. In this case, it is one in which he had just created with quite extraordinary powers, for a purpose which he cannot remember – and with his seemingly inextricable financial predicament(s).

It was first published in the October 1943 issue of Astounding Science Fiction as by “Lewis Padgett”, a nom de plume used by Henry Kuttner (1915–1958) and his wife C.L. Moore (1911-1987) for many of the 200+ fantasy, s-f and horror stories which they wrote together, essentially during the forties, mostly under this name.

The Proud Robot

ORIGINALLY the robot was intended to be a can opener. Things often happened that way with Gallegher, who played at science by ear. He was, as he often remarked, a casual genius. Sometimes he’d start with a twist of wire, a few batteries, and a button hook, and before he finished, he might contrive a new type of refrigerating unit. The affair of the time locker had begun that way, with Gallegher singing hoarsely under his breath and peering, quite drunk, into cans of paint.

At the moment he was nursing a hangover. A disjointed, lanky, vaguely boneless man with a lock of dark hair falling untidily over leis forehead, he lay on the couch in the lab and manipulated his mechanical liquor bar. A very dry Martini drizzled slowly from the spigot into his receptive mouth.
He was trying to remember something, but not trying too hard. It had to do with the robot, of course. Well, it didn’t matter.

“Hey, Joe,” Gallegher said.

The robot stood proudly before the mirror and examined its innards. Its hull was transparent, and wheels were going around at a great rate inside.

“When you call me that,” Joe remarked, “whisper. And get that cat out of here.”

“Your ears aren’t that good.”

“They are. I can hear the cat walking about, all right.”

“What does it sound like?” Gallegher inquired, interested.

“Just like drums,” said the robot, with a put-upon air. “And when you talk, it’s like thunder.” Joe’s voice was a discordant squeak, so Gallegher meditated on saying something about glass-houses and casting the first stone. He brought his attention, with some effort, to the luminous door panel, where a shadow loomed—a familiar shadow, Gallegher thought.

“It’s Brock,” the annunciator said. “Harrison Brock. Let me in!”

“The door’s unlocked.” Gallegher didn’t stir. He looked gravely at the well-dressed, middle-aged man who came in, and tried to remember. Brock was between forty and fifty; he had a smoothly massaged, clean-shaved face, and wore an expression of harassed intolerance. Probably Gallegher knew the man. He wasn’t sure.

Oh, well.

Brock looked around the big, untidy laboratory, blinked at the robot, searched for a chair, and failed to find it. Arms akimbo, he rocked back and forth and glared at the prostrate scientist.

“Well?” he said.

“Never start conversations that way,” Gallegher mumbled, siphoning another Martini down his gullet. “I’ve had enough trouble today. Sit down and take it easy. There’s a dynamo behind you. It isn’t very dusty, is it?”

“Did you get it?” Brock snapped. “That’s all I want to know. You’ve had a week. I’ve a check for ten thousand in my pocket. Do you want it, or don’t you?”

“Sure,” Gallegher said. He extended a large, groping hand. “Give.”

Caveat emptor. What am I buying?”

“Don’t you know?” the scientist asked, honestly puzzled.

Brock began to bounce up and down in a harassed fashion. “My God,” he said. “They told me you could help me if anybody could. Sure. And they also said it’d be like pulling teeth to get sense out of you. Are you a technician or a driveling idiot?”

Gallegher pondered. “Wait a minute. I’m beginning to remember. I talked to you last week, didn’t I?”

“You talked—” Brock’s round face turned pink. “Yes! You lay there swilling liquor and babbled poetry. You sang ’Frankie and Johnnie.’ And you finally got around to accepting my commission.”

“The fact is,” Gallegher said, “I have been drunk. I often get drunk. Especially on my vacation. It releases my subconscious, and then I can work. I’ve made my best gadgets when I was tizzied,” he went on happily. “Everything seems so clear then. Clear as a bell. I mean a bell, don’t I? Anyway—” He lost the thread and looked puzzled. “Anyway, what are you talking about?”

“Are you going to keep quiet?” the robot demanded from its post before the mirror.

Brock jumped. Gallegher waved a casual hand. “Don’t mind Joe. I just finished him last night, and I rather regret it.”

“A robot?”

“A robot. But he’s no good, you know. I made him when I was drunk, and I haven’t the slightest idea how or why. All he’ll do is stand there and admire himself. And sing. He sings like a banshee. You’ll hear him presently.”

With an effort Brock brought his attention back to the matter in hand. “Now look, Gallegher. I’m in a spot. You promised to help me. If you don’t, I’m a ruined man.”

“I’ve been ruined for years,” the scientist remarked. “It never bothers me. I just go along working for a living and making things in my spare time. Making all sorts of things. You know, if I’d really studied, I’d have been another Einstein. So they tell me. As it is, my subconscious picked up a first-class scientific training somewhere. Probably that’s why I never bothered. When I’m drunk or sufficiently absent-minded, I can work out the damnedest problems.”

“You’re drunk now,” Brock accused.

“I approach the pleasanter stages. How would you feel if you woke up and found you’d made a robot for some unknown reason, and hadn’t the slightest idea of the creature’s attributes?”

“Well—”

“I don’t feel that way at all,” Gallegher murmured. “Probably you take life too seriously, Brock. Wine is a mocker; strong drink is raging. Pardon me. I rage.” He drank another Martini.

Brock began to pace around the crowded laboratory, circling various enigmatic and untidy objects. “If you’re a scientist, Heaven help science.”

“I’m the Larry Adler of science,” Gallegher said. “He was a musician—lived some hundreds of years ago, I think. I’m like him. Never took a lesson in my life. Can I help it if my subconscious likes practical jokes?”

“Do you know who I am?” Brock demanded.

“Candidly, no. Should I?”

There was bitterness in the other’s voice. “You might have the courtesy to remember, even though it was a week ago. Harrison Brock. Me. I own Vox-View Pictures.”

“No,” the robot said suddenly, “it’s no use. No use at all, Brock.”

“What the—”

Gallegher sighed wearily. “I forget the damned thing’s alive. Mr. Brock, meet Joe. Joe, meet Mr. Brock—of Vox-View.”

Joe turned, gears meshing within his transparent skull. “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Brock. Allow me to congratulate you on your good fortune in hearing my lovely voice.”

“Uh,” said the magnate inarticulately. “Hello.”

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” Gallegher put in, sotto voce. “Joe’s like that. A peacock. No use arguing with him, either.”

The robot ignored this aside. “But it’s no use, Mr. Brock,” he went on squeakily. “I’m not interested in money. I realize it would bring happiness to many if I consented to appear in your pictures, but fame means nothing to me. Nothing. Consciousness of beauty is enough.”

Brock began to chew his lips. “Look,” he said savagely, “I didn’t come here to offer you a picture job. See? Am I offering you a contract? Such colossal nerve— Pah! You’re crazy.”

“Your schemes are perfectly transparent,” the robot remarked coldly. “I can see that you’re overwhelmed by my beauty and the loveliness of my voice—its grand tonal qualities. You needn’t pretend you don’t want me, just so you can get me at a lower price. I said I wasn’t interested.”

“You’re cr-r-razy!” Brock howled, badgered beyond endurance, and Joe calmly turned back to his mirror.

“Don’t talk so loudly,” the robot warned. “The discordance is deafening. Besides, you’re ugly and I don’t like to look at you.” Wheels and cogs buzzed inside the transplastic shell. Joe extended his eyes on stalks and regarded himself with every appearance of appreciation.

Gallegher was chuckling quietly on the couch. “Joe has a high irritation value,” he said. “I’ve found that out already. I must have given him some remarkable senses, too. An hour ago he started to laugh his damn fool head off. No reason, apparently. I was fixing myself a bite to eat. Ten minutes after that I slipped on an apple core I’d thrown away and came down hard.

Joe just looked at me. ’That was it,’ he said. ’Logics of probability. Cause and effect. I knew you were going to drop that apple core and then step on it when you went to pick up the mail.’

Like the White Queen, I suppose. It’s a poor memory that doesn’t work both ways.”

Brock sat on the small dynamo—there were two, the larger one named Monstro, and the smaller one serving Gallegher as a bank—and took deep breaths. “Robots are nothing new.”

“This one is. I hate its gears. It’s beginning to give me an inferiority complex. Wish I knew why I’d made it,” Gallegher sighed. “Oh, well. Have a drink?”

“No. I came here on business. Do you seriously mean you spent last week building a robot instead of solving the problem I hired you for?”

“Contingent, wasn’t it?” Gallegher asked. “I think I remember that.”

“Contingent,” Brock said with satisfaction. “Ten thousand, if and when.”

“Why not give me the dough and take the robot? He’s worth that. Put him in one of your pictures.”

“I won’t have any pictures unless you figure out an answer,” Brock snapped. “I told you all about it.”

“I have been drunk,” Gallegher said. “My mind has been wiped clear, as by a sponge. I am as a little child. Soon I shall be as a drunken little child. Meanwhile, if you’d care to explain the matter again—”

Brock gulped down his passion, jerked a magazine at random from the bookshelf, and took out a stylo. “All right. My preferred stocks are at twenty-eight, ’way below par—” He scribbled figures on the magazine.

“If you’d taken that medieval folio next to that, it’d have cost you a pretty penny,” Gallegher said lazily. “So you’re the sort of guy who writes on tablecloths, eh? Forget this business of stocks and stuff. Get down to cases. Who are you trying to gyp?”

“It’s no use,” the robot said from before its mirror. “I won’t sign a contract. People may come and admire me, if they like, but they’ll have to whisper in my presence.”

“A madhouse,” Brock muttered, trying to get a grip on himself. “Listen, Gallegher. I told you all this a week ago, but—”

“Joe wasn’t here then. Pretend like you’re talking to him.” “Uh—look. You’ve heard of Vox-View Pictures, at least.”

“Sure. The biggest and best television company in the business.
Sonatone’s about your only competitor.”

“Sonatone’s squeezing me out.”

Gallegher looked puzzled. “I don’t see how. You’ve got the best product. Tri-dimensional color, all sorts of modern improvements, the top actors, musicians, singers—”

“No use,” the robot said. “I won’t.”

“Shut up, Joe. You’re tops in your field, Brock. I’ll hand you that. And I’ve always heard you were fairly ethical. What’s Sonatone got on you?”

Brock made helpless gestures. “Oh, it’s politics. The bootleg theaters. I can’t buck ’em. Sonatone helped elect the present administration, and the police just wink when I try to have the bootleggers raided.”

“Bootleg theaters?” Gallegher asked, scowling a trifle. “I’ve heard something—”

“It goes ’way back. To the old sound-film days. Home television killed sound film and big theaters. People were conditioned away from sitting in audience groups to watch a screen. The home televisors got good. It was more fun to sit in an easy-chair, drink beer, and watch the show. Television wasn’t a rich man’s hobby by that time. The meter system brought the price down to middle-class levels. Everybody knows that.”

“I don’t,” Gallegher said. “I never pay attention to what goes on outside of my lab, unless I have to. Liquor and a selective mind. I ignore everything that doesn’t affect me directly. Explain the whole thing in detail, so I’ll get a complete picture. I don’t mind repetition. Now, what about this meter system of yours?”

“Televisors are installed free. We never sell ’em; we rent them. People pay according to how many hours they have the set tuned in. We run a continuous show, stage plays, wire-tape films, operas, orchestras, singers, vaudeville—everything. If you use your televisor a lot, you pay proportionately. The man comes around once a month and reads the meter. Which is a fair system.

Anybody can afford a Vox-View. Sonatone and the other companies do the same thing, but Sonatone’s the only big competitor I’ve got. At least, the only one that’s crooked as hell. The rest of the boys—they’re smaller than I am, but I don’t step on their toes. Nobody’s ever called me a louse,” Brock said darkly.

“So what?”

“So Sonatone has started to depend on audience appeal. It was impossible till lately—you couldn’t magnify tri-dimensional television on a big screen without streakiness and mirage-effect. That’s why the regular three-by-four home screens were used. Results were perfect. But Sonatone’s bought a lot of the ghost theaters all over the country—”

“What’s a ghost theater?” Gallegher asked.

“Well—before sound films collapsed, the world was thinking big. Big—you know? Ever heard of the Radio City Music Hall? That wasn’t in it! Television was coming in, and competition was fierce. Sound-film theaters got bigger and more elaborate. They were palaces. Tremendous. But when television was perfected, nobody went to the theaters any more, and it was often too expensive a job to tear ’em down. Ghost theaters—see? Big ones and little ones. Renovated them. And they’re showing Sonatone programs. Audience appeal is quite a factor. The theaters charge plenty, but people flock into ’em. Novelty and the mob instinct.”
Gallegher closed his eyes. “What’s to stop you from doing the same thing?”

“Patents,” Brock said briefly. “I mentioned that dimensional tele­vision couldn’t be used on big screens till lately. Sonatone signed an agreement with me ten years ago that any enlarging improvements would be used mutually. They crawled out of that contract. Said it was faked, and the courts upheld them. They uphold the courts—politics. Anyhow, Sonatone’s technicians worked out a method of using the large screen. They took out patents—twenty-seven patents, in fact, covering every possible variation on the idea. My technical staff has been working day and night trying to find some similar method that won’t be an infringement, but Sonatone’s got it all sewed up. They’ve a system called the Magna. It can be hooked up to any type of tele­visor—but they’ll only allow it to be used on Sonatone machines. See?”

“Unethical, but legal,” Gallegher said. “Still, you’re giving your customers more for their money. People want good stuff. The size doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Brock said bitterly, “but that isn’t all. The newspapers are full of A.A.—it’s a new catchword. Audience Appeal. The herd instinct. You’re right about people wanting good stuff—but would you buy Scotch at four a quart if you could get it for half that amount?”

“Depends on the quality. What’s happening?”

“Bootleg theaters,” Brock said. “They’ve opened all over the country. They show Vox-View products, and they’re using the Magna enlarger system Sonatone’s got patented. The admission price is low—lower than the rate of owning a Vox-View in your own home. There’s audience appeal. There’s the thrill of something a bit illegal. People are having their Vox-Views taken out right and left. I know why. They can go to a bootleg theater instead.”

“It’s illegal,” Gallegher said thoughtfully.

“So were speakeasies, in the Prohibition Era. A matter of protection, that’s all. I can’t get any action through the courts. I’ve tried. I’m running in the red. Eventually I’ll be broke. I can’t lower my home rental fees on Vox-Views. They’re nominal already. I make my profits through quantity. Now, no profits. As for these bootleg theaters, it’s pretty obvious who’s backing them.”

“Sonatone?”

“Sure. Silent partners. They get the take at the box office. ’What they want is to squeeze me out of business, so they’ll have a monopoly. After that they’ll give the public junk and pay their artists starvation salaries. With me it’s different. I pay my staff what they’re worth—plenty.”

“And you offered me a lousy ten thousand,” Gallegher remarked.

“Uh-huh!”

“That was only the first installment,” Brock said hastily. “You can name your own fee. Within reason,” he added.

“I shall. An astronomical sum. Did I say I’d accept the commission a week ago?”

“You did.”

“Then I must have had some idea how to solve the problem,” Gallegher pondered. “Let’s see. I didn’t mention anything in particular, did I?”

“You kept talking about marble slabs and . . . uh . . . your sweetie.”

“Then I was singing,” Gallegher explained largely. ” ’St. James Infirmary.’ Singing calms my nerves, and Lord knows they need it sometimes. Music and liquor. ’I often wonder what the vintners buy—’ “

“What?”

” ’One half so precious as the stuff they sell.’ Let it go. I am quoting Omar. It means nothing. Are your technicians any good?”

“The best. And the best paid.”

“They can’t find a magnifying process that won’t infringe on the Sonatone Magna patents?”

“In a nutshell, that’s it.”

“I suppose I’ll have to do some research,” Gallegher said sadly. I hate it like poison. Still, the sum of the parts equals the whole. Does that make sense to you? It doesn’t to me. I have trouble with words. After I say things, I start wondering what I’ve said. Better than watching a play,” he finished wildly. “I’ve got a headache. Too much talk and not enough liquor. Where were we?”

“Approaching the madhouse,” Brock suggested. “If you weren’t my last resort, I’d—”

“No use,” the robot said squeakily. “You might as well tear up your contract, Brock. I won’t sign it. Fame means nothing to me—nothing.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Gallegher warned, “I’m going to scream in your ears.”

“All right!” Joe shrilled. “Beat me! Go on, beat me! The meaner you are, the faster I’ll have my nervous system disrupted, and then I’ll be dead. I don’t care. I’ve got no instinct of self-preservation. Beat me. See if I care.”

“He’s right, you know,” the scientist said after a pause. “And it’s the only logical way to respond to blackmail or threats. The sooner it’s over, the better. There aren’t any gradations with Joe. Anything really painful to him will destroy him. And he doesn’t give a damn.”

“Neither do I,” Brock grunted. “What I want to find out—”

“Yeah. I know. Well, I’ll wander around and see what occurs to me. Can I get into your studios?”

“Here’s a pass.” Brock scribbled something on the back of a card.

“Will you get to work on it right away?”

“Sure,” Gallegher lied. “Now you run along and take it easy. Try and cool off. Everything’s under control. I’ll either find a solution to your problem pretty soon or else—”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I won’t,” the scientist finished blandly, and fingered the buttons on a control panel near the couch. “I’m tired of Martinis. Why didn’t I make that robot a mechanical bartender, while I was at it? Even the effort of selecting and pushing buttons is depressing at times. Yeah, I’ll get to work on the business, Brock. Forget it.”

The magnate hesitated. “Well, you’re my only hope. I needn’t bother to mention that if there’s anything I can do to help you—”

“A blonde,” Gallegher murmured. “That gorgeous, gorgeous star of yours, Silver O’Keefe. Send her over. Otherwise I want nothing.”

“Good-by, Brock,” the robot said squeakily. “Sorry we couldn’t get together on the contract, but at least you’ve had the ineluctable delight of hearing my beautiful voice, not to mention the pleasure of seeing me. Don’t tell too many people how lovely I am. I really don’t want to be bothered with mobs. They’re noisy.”

“You don’t know what dogmatism means till you’ve talked to Joe,” Gallegher said. “Oh, well. See you later. Don’t forget the blonde.”

Brock’s lips quivered. He searched for words, gave it up as a vain task, and turned to the door.

“Good-by, you ugly man,” Joe said.

Gallegher winced as the door slammed, though it was harder on the robot’s supersensitive ears than on his own. “Why do you go on like that?” he inquired. “You nearly gave the guy apoplexy.”

“Surely he didn’t think he was beautiful,” Joe remarked. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.”

“How stupid you are. You’re ugly, too.”

“And you’re a collection of rattletrap gears, pistons and cogs. You’ve got worms,” said Gallegher, referring, of course, to certain mechanisms in the robot’s body.

“I’m lovely.” Joe stared raptly into the mirror.

“Maybe, to you. Why did I make you transparent, I wonder?”

“So others could admire me. I have X-ray vision, of course.”

“And wheels in your head. Why did I put your radioatomic brain in your stomach? Protection?”

Joe didn’t answer. He was humming in a maddeningly squeaky voice, shrill and nerve-racking. Gallegher stood it for a while, fortify­ing himself with a gin rickey from the siphon.

“Get it up!” he yelped at last. “You sound like an old-fashioned subway train going around a curve.”

“You’re merely jealous,” Joe scoffed, but obediently raised his tone to a supersonic pitch. There was silence for a half-minute. Then all the dogs in the neighborhood began to howl.

Wearily Gallegher dragged his lanky frame up from the couch. He might as well get out. Obviously there was no peace to be had in the laboratory. Not with that animated junk pile inflating his ego all over the place. Joe began to laugh in an off-key cackle.

Gallegher winced.

“What now?”

“You’ll find out.”

Logic of causation and effect, influenced by probabilities, X-ray vision and other enigmatic senses the robot no doubt possessed. Gallegher cursed softly, found a shapeless black hat, and made for the door. He opened it to admit a short, fat man who bounced painfully off the scientist’s stomach.

“Whoof! What a corny sense of humor that jackass has. Hello, Mr. Kennicott. Glad to see you. Sorry I can’t offer you a drink.”
Mr. Kennicott’s swarthy face twisted malignantly. “Don’ wanna no drink. Wanna my money. You gimme. Howzabout it?”

Gallegher looked thoughtfully at nothing. “Well, the fact is, I was just going to collect a check.”

“I sella you my diamonds. You say you gonna make somet’ing wit’ ’em. You gimme check before. It go bounca, bounca, bounca. Why is?”

“It was rubber,” Gallegher said faintly. “I never can keep track of my bank balance.”

Kennicott showed symptoms of going bounca on the threshold. “You gimme back diamonds, eh?”

“Well, I used ’em in an experiment, I forget just what. You know, Mr. Kennicott, I think I was a little drunk when I bought them, wasn’t I?”

“Dronk,” the little man agreed. “Mad wit’ vino, sure. So whatta? I wait no longer. Awready you put me off too much. Pay up now or elsa.”

“Go away, you dirty man,” Joe said from within the room. “You’re awful.”

Gallegher hastily shouldered Kennicott out into the street and latched the door behind him. “A parrot;” he explained. “I’m going to wring its neck pretty soon. Now about that money. I admit I owe it to you. I’ve just taken on a big job, and when I’m paid, you’ll get yours.”

“Bah to such stuff,” Kennicott said. “You gotta position, eh? You are technician wit’ some big company, Ai? Ask for ahead-salary.”

“I did,” Gallegher sighed. “I’ve drawn my salary for six months ahead. Now look, I’ll have that dough for you in a couple of days. Maybe I can get an advance from my client. O. K.?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Ah-h, nutsa. I waita one day. Two daysa, maybe. Enough. You get money. Awright. If not, O. K., calabozo for you.”

“Two days is plenty,” Gallegher said, relieved. “Say, are there any of those bootleg theaters around here?”

“Better you get to work an’ not waste time.”

“That’s my work. I’m making a survey. How can I find a bootleg place?”

“Easy. You go downtown, see guy in doorway. He sell you tickets. Anywhere. All over.”

“Swell,” Gallegher said, and bade the little man adieu. Why had he bought diamonds from Kennicott? It would be almost worth while to have his subconscious amputated. It did the most extraordinary things. It worked on inflexible principles of logic, but that logic was completely alien to Gallegher’s conscious mind. The results, though, were often surprisingly good, and always surprising. That was the worst of being a scientist who knew no science—who played by ear.

There was diamond dust in a retort in the laboratory, from some unsatisfactory experiment Gallegher’s subconscious had performed; and he had a fleeting memory of buying the stones from Kennicott. Curious. Maybe—oh, yeah. They’d gone into Joe. Bearings or something. Dismantling the robot wouldn’t help now, for the diamonds had certainly been reground. Why the devil hadn’t he used commercial stones, quite as satisfactory, instead of purchasing blue-whites of the finest water? The best was none too good for Gallegher’s subconscious. It had a fine freedom from commercial instincts. It just didn’t understand the price system or the basic principles of economics.

Gallegher wandered downtown like a Diogenes seeking truth. It was early evening, and the luminates were flickering on overhead, pale bars of light against darkness. A sky sign blazed above Manhattan’s towers. Air-taxis, skimming along at various arbitrary levels, paused for passengers at the elevator landings. Heigh-ho.

Downtown, Gallegher began to look for doorways. He found an occupied one at last, but the man was selling post cards. Gallegher declined and headed for the nearest bar, feeling the need of replenishment. It was a mobile bar, combining the worst features of a Coney Island ride with uninspired cocktails, and Gallegher hesitated on the threshold. But at last he seized a chair as it swung past and relaxed as much as possible. He ordered three rickeys and drank them in rapid succession. After that he called the bartender over and asked him about bootleg theaters.

“Hell, yes,” the man said, producing a sheaf of tickets from his apron. “How many?”

“One. Where do I go?”

“Two-twenty-eight. This street. Ask for Tony.”

“Thanks,” Gallegher said, and, having paid exorbitantly, crawled out of the chair and weaved away. Mobile bars were an improvement he didn’t appreciate. Drinking, he felt, should be performed in a state of stasis, since one eventually reached that stage, anyway.

The door was at the bottom of a flight of steps, and there was a grilled panel set in it. When Gallegher knocked, the visascreen lit up—obviously a one-way circuit, for the doorman was invisible.

“Tony here?” Gallegher said.

The door opened, revealing a tired-looking man in pneumo-slacks, which failed in their purpose of building up his skinny figure. “Got a ticket? Let’s have it. O. K., bud. Straight ahead. Show now going on. Liquor served in the bar on your left.”

Gallegher pushed through sound-proofed curtains at the end of a short corridor and found himself in what appeared to be the foyer of an ancient theater, circa 1980, when plastics were the great fad. He smelled out the bar, drank expensively priced cheap liquor, and, fortified, entered the theater itself. It was nearly full.

The great screen—a Magna, presumably—was filled with people doing things to a spaceship. Either an adventure film or a newsreel, Gallegher realized.

Only the thrill of lawbreaking would have enticed the audience into the bootleg theater. It smelled. It was certainly run on a shoestring, and there were no ushers. But it was illicit, and therefore well patronized. Gallegher looked thoughtfully at the screen. No streakiness, no mirage effect. A Magna enlarger had been fitted to a Vox-View unlicensed televisor, and one of Brock’s greatest stars was emoting effectively for the benefit of the bootleggers’ patrons. Simple highjacking. Yeah.

After a while Gallegher went out, noticing a uniformed policeman in one of the aisle seats. He grinned sardonically. The flatfoot hadn’t paid his admission, of course. Politics were as usual.

Two blocks down the street a blaze of light announced SONATONE BIJOU. This, of course, was one of the legalized theaters, and correspondingly high-priced. Gallegher recklessly squandered a small fortune on a good seat. He was interested in comparing notes, and discovered that, as far as he could make out, the Magna in the Bijou and the bootleg theater were identical. Both did their job perfectly. The difficult task of enlarging television screens had been successfully surmounted.

In the Bijou, however, all was palatial. Resplendent ushers salaamed to the rugs. Bars dispensed free liquor, in reasonable quantities. There was a Turkish bath. Gallegher went through a door labeled MEN and emerged quite dazzled by the splendor of the place. For at least ten minutes afterward he felt like a Sybarite.

All of which meant that those who could afford it went to the legalized Sonatone theaters, and the rest attended the bootleg places. All but a few homebodies, who weren’t carried off their feet by the new fad. Eventually Brock would be forced out of business for lack of revenue. Sonatone would take over, jacking up their prices and concentrating on making money. Amusement was necessary to life; people had been conditioned to television. There was no substitute. They’d pay and pay for inferior talent, once Sonatone succeeded in their squeeze.

Gallegher left the Bijou and hailed an air-taxi. He gave the address of Vox-View’s Long Island studio, with some vague hope of getting a drawing account out of Brock. Then, too, he wanted to investigate further.

Vox-View’s eastern offices sprawled wildly over Long Island, bordering the Sound, a vast collection of variously shaped buildings. Gallegher instinctively found the commissary, where he absorbed more liquor as a precautionary measure. His subconscious had a heavy job ahead, and he didn’t want it handicapped by lack of complete freedom. Besides, the Collins was good.

After one drink, he decided he’d had enough for a while. He wasn’t a superman, though his capacity was slightly incredible. Just enough for objective clarity and subjective release—
“Is the studio always open at night?” he asked the waiter.

“Sure. Some of the stages, anyway. It’s a round-the-clock program.”

“The commissary’s full.”

“We get the airport crowd, too. ’Nother?”

Gallegher shook his head and went out. The card Brock had given him provided entree at a gate, and he went first of all to the big-shot’s office. Brock wasn’t there, but loud voices emerged, shrilly feminine.

The secretary said, “Just a minute, please,” and used her interoffice visor. Presently—”Will you go in?”

Gallegher did. The office was a honey, functional and luxurious at the same time. Three-dimensional stills were in niches along the walls —Vox-View’s biggest stars. A small, excited, pretty brunette was sitting behind the desk, and a blond angel was standing furiously on the other side of it. Gallegher recognized the angel as Silver O’Keefe.

He seized the opportunity. “Hiya, Miss O’Keefe. Will you autograph an ice cube for me? In a highball?”

Silver looked feline. “Sorry, darling, but I’m a working girl. And I’m busy right now.”

The brunette scratched a cigarette. “Let’s settle this later, Silver. Pop said to see this guy if he dropped in. It’s important.”

“It’ll be settled,” Silver said. “And soon.” She made an exit. Gallegher whistled thoughtfully at the closed door.

“You can’t have it,” the brunette said. “It’s under contract. And it wants to get out of the contract, so it can sign up with Sonatone. Rats desert a sinking ship. Silver’s been kicking her head off ever since she read the storm signals.”

“Yeah?”

“Sit down and smoke or something. I’m Patsy Brock. Pop runs this business, and I manage the controls whenever he blows his top. The old goat can’t stand trouble. He takes it as a personal affront.”
Gallegher found a chair. “So Silver’s trying to renege, eh? How many others?”

“Not many. Most of ’em are loyal. But, of course, if we bust up—” Patsy Brock shrugged. “They’ll either work for Sonatone for their cakes, or else do without.”

“Uh-huh. Well—I want to see your technicians. I want to look over the ideas they’ve worked out for enlarger screens.”

“Suit yourself,” Patsy said. “It’s not much use. You just can’t make a televisor enlarger without infringing on some Sonatone patent.”
She pushed a button, murmured something into a visor, and presently two tall glasses appeared through a slot in the desk.

“Mr. Gallegher?”

“Well, since it’s a Collins—”

“I could tell by your breath,” Patsy said enigmatically. “Pop told me he’d seen you. He seemed a bit upset, especially by your new robot. What is it like, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gallegher said, at a loss. “It’s got lots of abilities—new senses, I think—but I haven’t the slightest idea what it’s good for. Except admiring itself in a mirror.”

Patsy nodded. “I’d like to see it sometime. But about this Sonatone business. Do you think you can figure out an answer?”

“Possibly. Probably.”

“Not certainly?”

“Certainly, then. Of that there is no manner of doubt—no possible doubt whatever.”

“Because it’s important to me. The man who owns Sonatone is Elia Tone. A piratical skunk. He blusters. He’s got a son named Jimmy. And Jimmy, believe it or not, has read ’Romeo and Juliet.’ “

“Nice guy?”

“A louse. A big, brawny louse. He wants me to marry him.”

” ’Two families both alike in—’ “

“Spare me,” Patsy interrupted. “I always thought Romeo was a dope, anyway. And if I ever thought I was going aisling with Jimmy Tone, I’d buy a one-way ticket to the nut hatch. No, Mr. Gallegher, it’s not like that. No hibiscus blossoms. Jimmy has proposed to me—his idea of a proposal, by the way, is to get a half Nelson on a girl and tell her how lucky she is.”

“Ah,” said Gallegher, diving into his Collins.

“This whole idea—the patent monopoly and the bootleg theaters —is Jimmy’s. I’m sure of that. His father’s in on it, too, of course, but Jimmy Tone is the bright little boy who started it.”

“Why.”

“Two birds with one stone. Sonatone will have a monopoly on the business, and Jimmy thinks he’ll get me. He’s a little mad. He can’t believe I’m in earnest in refusing him, and he expects me to break down and say ’Yes’ after a while. Which I won’t, no matter what happens. But it’s a personal matter. I can’t let him put this trick over on us. I want that self-sufficient smirk wiped off his face.”

“You just don’t like him, eh?” Gallegher remarked. “I don’t blame you, if he’s like that. Well, I’ll do my damnedest. However, I’ll need an expense account.”

“How much?”

Gallegher named a sum. Patsy styloed a check for a far smaller amount. The scientist looked hurt.

“It’s no use,” Patsy said, grinning crookedly. “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Gallegher. You’re completely irresponsible. If you had more than this, you’d figure you didn’t need any more, and you’d forget the whole matter. I’ll issue more checks to you when you need ’em—but I’ll want itemized expense accounts.”

“You wrong me,” Gallegher said, brightening. “I was figuring on taking you to a night club. Naturally I don’t want to take you to a dive. The big places cost money. Now if you’ll just write another check—”

Patsy laughed. “No.”

“Want to buy a robot?”

“Not that kind, anyway.”

“Then I’m washed up,” Gallegher sighed. “Well, what about—”

At this point the visor hummed. A blank, transparent face grew on the screen. Gears were clicking rapidly inside the round head. Patsy gave a small shriek and shrank back.

“Tell Gallegher Joe’s here, you lucky girl,” a squeaky voice announced. “You may treasure the sound and sight of me till your dying day. One touch of beauty in a world of drabness—”

Gallegher clutched the desk and looked at the screen. “What the hell. How did you come to life?”

“I had a problem to solve.”

“How’d you know where to reach me?”

“I vastened you,” the robot said.

“What?”

“I vastened you were at the Vox-View studios with Patsy Brock.”

“What’s vastened?” Gallegher wanted to know.

“It’s a sense I’ve got. You’ve nothing remotely like it, so I can’t describe it to you. It’s rather like a combination of sagrazi and prescience.”

“Sagrazi?”

“Oh, you don’t have sagrazi, either, do you? Well, don’t waste my time. I want to go back to the mirror.”

“Does he always talk like that?” Patsy put in.

“Nearly always. Sometimes it makes even less sense. O. K., Joe. Now what?”

“You’re not working for Brock any more,” the robot said. “You’re working for the Sonatone people.”

Gallagher breathed deeply. “Keep talking. You’re crazy, though.”

“I don’t like Kennicott. He annoys me. He’s too ugly. His vibrations grate on my sagrazi.”

“Never mind him,” Gallegher said, not wishing to discuss his diamond-buying activities before the girl. “Get back to—”

“But I knew Kennicott would keep coming back till he got his money. So when Elia and James Tone came to the laboratory, I got a check from them.”

Patsy’s hand gripped Gallegher’s biceps. “Steady! What’s going on here? The old double cross?”

“No. Wait. Let me get to the bottom of this. Joe, damn your transparent hide, just what did you do? How could you get a check from the Tones?”

“I pretended to be you.”

“Sure,” Gallegher said with savage sarcasm. “That explains it. We’re twins. We look exactly alike.”

“I hypnotized them,” Joe explained. “I made them think I was you.”

“You can do that?

“Yes. It surprised me a bit. Still, if I’d thought, I’d have vastened I could do it.”

“You . . . yeah, sure. I’d have vastened the same thing myself. What happened?

“The Tones must have suspected Brock would ask you to help him. They offered an exclusive contract—you work for them and nobody else. Lots of money. Well, I pretended to be you, and said all right. So I signed the contract—it’s your signature, by the way—and got a check from them and mailed it to Kennicott.”

“The whole check?” Gallegher asked feebly. “How much was it?”

“Twelve thousand.”

“They only offered me that?

“No,” the robot said, “they offered a hundred thousand, and two thousand a week for five years. But I merely wanted enough to pay Kennicott and make sure he wouldn’t come back and bother me. The Tones were satisfied when I said twelve thousand would be enough.”

Gallegher made an articulate, gurgling sound deep in his throat Joe nodded thoughtfully.

“I thought I had better notify you that you’re working for Sonatone now. Well, I’ll go back to the mirror and sing to myself.”

“Wait,” the scientist said. “Just wait, Joe. With my own two hands I’m going to rip you gear from gear and stamp on your fragments.”

“It won’t hold in court,” Patsy said, gulping.

“It will,” Joe told her cheerily. “You may have one last, satisfying look at me, and then I must go.” He went.

Gallegher drained his Collins at a draft. “I’m shocked sober,” he informed the girl. “What did I put into that robot? What abnormal senses has he got? Hypnotizing people into believing he’s me—I’m him—I don’t know what I mean.”

“Is this a gag?” Patsy said shortly, after a pause. “You didn’t sign up with Sonatone yourself, by any chance, and have your robot call up here to give you an out—an alibi? I’m just wondering.”

“Don’t. Joe signed a contract with Sonatone, not me. But—figure it out: If the signature’s a perfect copy of mine, if Joe hypnotized the Tones into thinking they saw me instead of him, if there are witnesses to the signature—the two Tones are witnesses, of course— Oh, hell.”

Patsy’s eyes were narrowed. “We’ll pay you as much as Sonatone offered. On a contingent basis. But you’re working for Vox-View— that’s understood.”

“Sure.”

Gallegher looked longingly at his empty glass. Sure. He was working for Vox-View. But, to all legal appearances, he had signed a contract giving his exclusive services to Sonatone for a period of five years —and for a sum of twelve thousand! Yipe! What was it they’d offered? A hundred thousand flat, and . . . and—

It wasn’t the principle of the thing, it was the money. Now Gallegher was sewed up tighter than a banded pigeon. If Sonatone could win a court suit, he was legally bound to them for five years. With no further emolument. He had to get out of that contract, somehow—and at the same time solve Brock’s problem.

Why not Joe? The robot, with his surprising talents, had got Gallegher into this spot. He ought to be able to get the scientist out. He’d better—or the proud robot would soon be admiring himself piecemeal.

“That’s it,” Gallegher said under his breath. “I’ll talk to Joe. Patsy, feed me liquor in a hurry and send me to the technical department. I want to see those blueprints.”

The girl looked at him suspiciously. “All right. If you try to sell us out—”

“I’ve been sold out myself. Sold down the river. I’m afraid of that robot. He’s vastened me into quite a spot. That’s right, Collinses.” Gallegher drank long and deeply.

After that, Patsy took him to the tech offices. The reading of three-dimensional blueprints was facilitated with a scanner—a selective device which eliminated confusion. Gallegher studied the plans long and thoughtfully. There were copies of the patented Sonatone prints, too, and, as far as he could tell, Sonatone had covered the ground beautifully. There weren’t any outs. Unless one used an entirely new principle—

But new principles couldn’t be plucked out of the air. Nor would that solve the problem completely. Even if Vox-View owned a new type of enlarger that didn’t infringe on Sonatone’s Magna, the bootleg theaters would still be in existence, pulling the trade. A. A.—Audience Appeal—was a prime factor now. It had to be considered. The puzzle wasn’t a purely scientific one. There was the human equation as well.

Gallegher stored the necessary information in his mind, neatly indexed on shelves. Later he’d use what he wanted. For the moment, he was completely baffled. Something worried him.

What?

The Sonatone affair.

“I want to get in touch with the Tones,” he told Patsy. “Any ideas?”

“I can reach ’em on a visor.”

Gallegher shook his head. “Psychological handicap. It’s too easy to break the connection.”

“Well, if you’re in a hurry, you’ll probably find the boys night clubbing. I’ll go see what I can find out.” Patsy scuttled off, and Silver O’Keefe appeared from behind a screen.

“I’m shameless,” she announced. “I always listen at keyholes. Sometimes I hear interesting things. If you want to see the Tones, they’re at the Castle Club. And I think I’ll take you up on that drink.”

Gallegher said, “O. K. You get a taxi. I’ll tell Patsy we’re going.”

“She’ll hate that,” Silver remarked. “Meet you outside the commissary in ten minutes. Get a shave while you’re at it.”

Patsy Brock wasn’t in her office, but Gallegher left word. After that, he visited the service lounge, smeared invisible shave cream on his face, left it there for a couple of minutes, and wiped it off with a treated towel. The bristles came away with the cream. Slightly refreshed, Gallegher joined Silver at the rendezvous and hailed an air-taxi. Presently they were leaning back on the cushions, puffing cigarettes and eyeing each other warily.

“Well?” Gallegher said.

“Jimmy Tone tried to date me up tonight. That’s how I knew where to find him.”

“Well?”

“I’ve been asking questions around the lot tonight. It’s unusual for an outsider to get into the Vox-View administration offices. I went around saying, ’Who’s Gallegher?’ “

“What did you find out?”

“Enough to give me a few ideas. Brock hired you, eh? I can guess why.”

Ergo what?”

“I’ve a habit of landing on my feet,” Silver said, shrugging. She knew how to shrug. “Vox-View’s going bust. Sonatone’s taking over. Unless—”

“Unless I figure out an answer.”

“That’s right. I want to know which side of the fence I’m going to land on. You’re the lad who can probably tell me. Who’s going to win?”

“You always bet on the winning side, eh?” Gallegher inquired.

Have you no ideals, wench? Is there no truth in you? Ever hear of ethics and scruples?”

Silver beamed happily. “Did you?”

“Well, I’ve heard of ’em. Usually I’m too drunk to figure out what they mean. The trouble is, my subconscious is completely amoral, and when it takes over, logic’s the only law.”

She threw her cigarette into the East River. “Will you tip me off which side of the fence is the right one?”

“Truth will triumph,” Gallegher said piously. “It always does. However, I figure truth is a variable, so we’re right back where we started. All right, sweetheart. I’ll answer your question. Stay on my side if you want to be safe.”

“Which side are you on?”

“Lord knows,” Gallegher said. “Consciously I’m on Brock’s side. But my subconscious may have different ideas. We’ll see.”

Silver looked vaguely dissatisfied, but didn’t say anything. The taxi swooped down to the Castle roof, grounding with pneumatic gentleness. The Club itself was downstairs, in an immense room shaped like half a melon turned upside down. Each table was on a transparent platform that could be raised on its shaft to any height at will. Smaller service elevators allowed waiters to bring drinks to the guests. There wasn’t any particular reason for this arrangement, but at least it was novel, and only extremely heavy drinkers ever fell from their tables. Lately the management had taken to hanging transparent nets under the platforms, for safety’s sake.

The Tones, father and son, were up near the roof, drinking with two lovelies. Silver towed Gallegher to a service lift, and the man closed his eyes as he was elevated skyward. The liquor in his stomach screamed protest. He lurched forward, clutched at Elia Tone’s bald head, and dropped into a seat beside the magnate. His searching hand found Jimmy Tone’s glass, and he drained it hastily.

“What the hell,” Jimmy said.

“It’s Gallegher,” Elia announced. “And Silver. A pleasant surprise. Join us?”

“Only socially,” Silver said.

Gallegher, fortified by the liquor, peered at the two men. Jimmy Tone was a big, tanned, handsome lout with a jutting jaw and an offensive grin. His father combined the worst features of Nero and a crocodile.

“We’re celebrating,” Jimmy said. “What made you change your mind, Silver? You said you had to work tonight.”

“Gallegher wanted to see you. I don’t know why.”

Elia’s cold eyes grew even more glacial. “All right. Why?”

“I hear I signed some sort of contract with you,” the scientist said.

“Yeah. Here’s a photostatic copy. What about it?”

“Wait a minute.” Gallegher scanned the document. It was apparently his own signature. Damn that robot!

“It’s a fake,” he said at last.

Jimmy laughed loudly. “I get it. A holdup. Sorry, pal, but you’re sewed up. You signed that in the presence of witnesses.”

“Well—” Gallegher said wistfully. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said a robot forged my name to it—”

“Haw!” Jimmy remarked.

“—hypnotizing you into believing you were seeing me.”

Elia stroked his gleaming bald head. “Candidly, no. Robots can’t do that.”

“Mine can.”

“Prove it. Prove it in court. If you can do that, of course—” Elia chuckled. “Then you might get the verdict.”

Gallegher’s eyes narrowed. “Hadn’t thought of that. However—I hear you offered me a hundred thousand flat, as well, as a weekly salary.”

“Sure, sap,” Jimmy said. “Only you said all you needed was twelve thousand. Which was what you got. Tell you what, though. We’ll pay you a bonus for every usable product you make for Sonatone.”

Gallegher got up. “Even my subconscious doesn’t like these lugs,” he told Silver. “Let’s go.”

“I think I’ll stick around.”

“Remember the fence,” he warned cryptically. “But suit yourself. I’ll run along.”

Elia said, “Remember, Gallegher, you’re working for us. If we hear of you doing any favors for Brock, we’ll slap an injunction on you before you can take a deep breath.”

“Yeah?”

The Tones deigned no answer. Gallegher unhappily found the lift and descended to the floor. What now?

Joe.

Fifteen minutes later Gallegher let himself into his laboratory. The lights were blazing, and dogs were barking frantically for blocks around. Joe stood before the mirror, singing inaudibly.

“I’m going to take a sledge hammer to you,” Gallegher said. “Start saying your prayers, you misbegotten collection of cogs. So help me, I’m going to sabotage you.”

“All right, beat me,” Joe squeaked. “See if I care. You’re merely jealous of my beauty.”

“Beauty!”

“You can’t see all of it—you’ve only six senses.”

“Five.”

“Six. I’ve a lot more. Naturally my full splendor is revealed only to me. But you can see enough and hear enough to realize part of my loveliness, anyway.”

“You squeak like a rusty tin wagon,” Gallegher growled.

“You have dull ears. Mine are supersensitive. You miss the full tonal value of my voice, of course. Now be quiet. Talking disturbs me. I’m appreciating my gear movements.”

“Live in your fool’s paradise while you can. Wait’ll I find a sledge.”
“All right, beat me. What do I care?”

Gallegher sat down wearily on the couch, staring at the robot’s transparent back. “You’ve certainly screwed things up for me. What did you sign that Sonatone contract for?”

“I told you. So Kennicott wouldn’t come around and bother me.”

“Of all the selfish, lunk-headed . . . uh! Well, you got me into a sweet mess. The Tones can hold me to the letter of the contract unless I prove I didn’t sign it. All right. You’re going to help me. You’re going into court with me and turn on your hypnotism or whatever it is. You’re going to prove to a judge that you did and can masquerade as me.”

“Won’t,” said the robot. “Why should I?”

“Because you got me into this,” Gallegher yelped. “You’ve got to get me out!”

“Why?”

“Why? Because . . . uh . . . well, it’s common decency!” “Human values don’t apply to robots,” Joe said. “What care I for semantics? I refuse to waste time I could better employ admiring my beauty. I shall stay here before the minor forever and ever—”

“The hell you will,” Gallegher snarled. “I’ll smash you to atoms.”

“All right. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“You and your instinct for self-preservation,” the robot said, rather sneeringly “I suppose it’s necessary for you, though. Creatures of such surpassing ugliness would destroy themselves out of sheer shame if they didn’t have something like that to keep them alive.”

“Suppose I take away your mirror?” Gallegher asked, in a hopeless voice.

For answer Joe shot his eyes out on their stalks. “Do I need a mirror? Besides, I can vasten myself lokishly.”

“Never mind that. I don’t want to go crazy for a while yet. Listen, dope, a robot’s supposed to do something. Something useful, I mean.”

“I do. Beauty is all.”

Gallegher squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think. “Now look. Suppose I invent a new type of enlarger screen for Brock. The Tones will impound it. I’ve got to be legally free to work for Brock, or—”

“Look!” Joe cried squeakishly. “They go round! How lovely!” He stared in ecstasy at his whirring insides. Gallegher went pale with impotent fury.

“Damn you!” he muttered. “I’ll find some way to bring pressure to bear. I’m going to bed.” He rose and spitefully snapped off the lights.

“It doesn’t matter,” the robot said. “I can see in the dark, too.” The door slammed behind Gallegher. In the silence Joe began to sing tunelessly to himself.

Gallegher’s refrigerator covered an entire wall of his kitchen. It was filled mostly with liquors that required chilling, including the imported canned beer with which he always started his binges.

The next morning, heavy-eyed and disconsolate, Gallegher searched for tomato juice, took a wry sip, and hastily washed it down with rye. Since he was already a week gone in bottle-dizziness, beer wasn’t indicated now —he always worked cumulatively, by progressive stages. The food service popped a hermetically sealed breakfast on a table, and Gallegher morosely toyed with a bloody steak.

Well?

Court, he decided, was the only recourse. He knew little about the robot’s psychology. But a judge would certainly be impressed by Joe’s talents. The evidence of robots was not legally admissible—still, if Joe could be considered as a machine capable of hypnotism, the Sonatone contract might be declared null and void.

Gallegher used his visor to start the ball rolling. Harrison Brock still had certain political powers of pull, and the hearing was set for that very day. What would happen, though, only God and the robot knew.

Several hours passed in intensive but futile thought. Gallegher could think of no way in which to force the robot to do what he wanted. If only he could remember the purpose for which Joe had had been created—but he couldn’t. Still—

At noon he entered the laboratory.

“Listen, stupid,” he said, “you’re coming to court with me. Now.”

“Won’t.”

“O. K.” Gallegher opened the door to admit two husky men in overalls, carrying a stretcher. “Put him in, boys.”

Inwardly he was slightly nervous. Joe’s powers were quite unknown, his potentialities an x quantity. However, the robot wasn’t very large, and, though he struggled and screamed in a voice of frantic squeakiness, he was easily loaded on the stretcher and put in a strait jacket.

“Stop it! You can’t do this to me! Let me go, do you hear? Let me go!”

“Outside,” Gallegher said.

Joe, protesting valiantly, was carried out and loaded into an air van. Once there, he quieted, looked up blankly at nothing. Gallegher sat down on a bench beside the prostrate robot. The van glided up.

“Well?”

“Suit yourself,” Joe said. “You got me all upset, or I could have hypnotized you all. I still could, you know. I could make you all run around barking like dogs.”

Gallegher twitched a little. “Better not.”

“I won’t. It’s beneath my dignity. I shall simply lie here and admire myself. I told you I don’t need a mirror. I can vasten my beauty without it.”

“Look,” Gallegher said. “You’re going to a courtroom. There’ll be a lot of people in it. They’ll all admire you They’ll admire you more if you show how you can hypnotize people. Like you did to the Tones, remember?”

“What do I care how many people admire me?” Joe asked. “I don’t need confirmation. If they see me, that’s their good luck. Now be quiet. You may watch my gears if you choose.”

Gallegher watched the robot’s gears with smoldering hatred in his eyes. He was still darkly furious when the van arrived at the court chambers. The men carried Joe inside, under Gallegher’s direction, and laid him down carefully on a table, where, after a brief discussion, he was marked as Exhibit A.

The courtroom was well filled. The principals were there, too— Elia and Jimmy Tone, looking disagreeably confident, and Patsy Brock, with her father, both seeming anxious. Silver O’Keefe, with her usual wariness, had found a seat midway between the representatives of Sonatone and Vox-View. The presiding judge was a martinet named Hansen, but, as far as Gallegher knew, he was honest. Which was something, anyway.

Hansen looked at Gallegher. “We won’t bother with formalities. I’ve been reading this brief you sent down. The whole case stands or falls on the question of whether you did or did not sign, a certain contract with the Sonatone Television Amusement Corp. Right?”

“Right, your honor.”

“Under the circumstances you dispense with legal representation. Right?”

“Right, your honor.”

“Then this is technically ex officio, to be confirmed later by appeal if either party desires. Otherwise after ten days the verdict becomes official.” This new type of informal court hearing had lately become popular—it saved time, as well as wear and tear on everyone. Moreover, certain recent scandals had made attorneys slightly disreputable in the public eye. There was a prejudice.
Judge Hansen called up the Tones, questioned them, and then asked Harrison Brock to take the stand. The big shot looked worried, but answered promptly.

“You made an agreement with the appellor eight days ago?” “Yes. Mr. Gallegher contracted to do certain work for me—”

“Was there a written contract?”

“No. It was verbal.”

Hansen looked thoughtfully at Gallegher. “Was the appellor intoxicated at the time? He often is, I believe.”

Brock gulped. “There were no tests made. I really can’t say.”

“Did he drink any alcoholic beverages in your presence?”

“I don’t know if they were alcoholic bev—”

“If Mr. Gallegher drank them, they were alcoholic. Q. E. D. The gentleman once worked with me on a case— However, there seems to be no legal proof that you entered into any agreement with Mr. Gallegher. The defendant—Sonatone—possesses a written contract. The signature has been verified.”

Hansen waved Brock down from the stand. “Now, Mr. Gallegher. If you’ll come up here— The contract in question was signed at approximately 8 p. m. last night. You contend you did not sign it?”

“Exactly. I wasn’t even in my laboratory then.”

“Where were you?”

“Downtown.”

“Can you produce witnesses to that effect?”

Gallegher thought back. He couldn’t.

“Very well. Defendant states that at approximately 8 p. m. last night you, in your laboratory, signed a certain contract. You deny that categorically. You state that Exhibit A, through the use of hypnotism, masqueraded as you and successfully forged your signa­ture. I have consulted experts, and they are of the opinion that robots are incapable of such power.”

“My robot’s a new type.”

“Very well. Let your robot hypnotize me into believing that it is either you, or any other human. In other words, let it prove its capabilities. Let it appear to me in any shape it chooses.”

Gallegher said, “I’ll try,” and left the witness box. He went to the table where the strait-jacketed robot lay and silently sent up a brief prayer.

“Joe.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been listening?”

“Yes.”

“Will you hypnotize Judge Hansen?”

“Go away,” Joe said. “I’m admiring myself.”

Gallegher started to sweat. “Listen. I’m not asking much. All you have to do—”

Joe off-focused his eyes and said faintly. “I can’t hear you. I’m vastening.”

Ten minutes later Hansen said, “Well, Mr. Gallegher—”

“Your honor! All I need is a little time. I’m sure I can make this rattle-geared Narcissus prove my point if you’ll give me a chance.”

“This court is not unfair,” the judge pointed out. “Whenever you can prove that Exhibit A is capable of hypnotism. I’ll rehear the case. In the meantime, the contract stands. You’re working for Sonatone, not for Vox-View. Case closed.”

He went away. The Tones leered unpleasantly across the courtroom. They also departed, accompanied by Silver O’Keefe, who had decided which side of the fence was safest. Gallegher looked at Patsy Brock and shrugged helplessly.

“Well—” he said.

She grinned crookedly. “You tried. I don’t know how hard, but—Oh, well. Maybe you couldn’t have found the answer, anyway.” Brock staggered over, wiping sweat from his round face. “I’m a ruined man. Six new bootleg theaters opened in New York today. I’m going crazy. I don’t deserve this.”

“Want me to marry the Tone?” Patsy asked sardonically.

“Hell, no! Unless you promise to poison him just after the ceremony. Those skunks can’t lick me. I’ll think of something.”

“If Gallegher can’t, you can’t,” the girl said. “So—what now?”

“I’m going back to my lab,” the scientist said. “In vino veritas. I started this business when I was drunk, and maybe if I get drunk enough again, I’ll find the answer. If I don’t, sell my pickled carcass for whatever it’ll bring.”

“O. K.,” Patsy agreed, and led her father away. Gallegher sighed, superintended the reloading of Joe into the van, and lost himself in hopeless theorization.

An hour later Gallegher was flat on the laboratory couch, drinking passionately from the liquor bar, and glaring at the robot, who stood before the mirror singing squeakily. The binge threatened to be monumental. Gallegher wasn’t sure flesh and blood would stand it. But he was determined to keep going till he found the answer or passed out.

His subconscious knew the answer. Why the devil had he made Joe in the first place? Certainly not to indulge a Narcissus complex! There was another reason, a soundly logical one, hidden in the depths of alcohol.

The x factor. If the x factor were known, Joe might be controllable. He would be. X was the master switch. At present the robot was, so to speak, running wild. If he were told to perform the task for which he was made, a psychological balance would occur. X was the catalyst that would reduce Joe to sanity.

Very good.

Gallegher drank high-powered Drambuie. Whoosh!

Vanity of vanities; all is vanity. How could the x factor be found? Deduction? Induction? Osmosis? A bath in Drambuie—Gallegher clutched at his wildly revolving thoughts. What had happened that night a week ago?

He had been drinking beer. Brock had come in. Brock had gone. Gallegher had begun to make the robot—Hm-m-m. A beer drunk was different from other types. Perhaps he was drinking the wrong liquors. Very likely. Gallegher rose, sobered himself with thiamin, and carted dozens of imported beer cans out of the refrigerator. He stacked them inside a frost-unit beside the couch. Beer squirted to the ceiling as he plied the opener. Now let’s see.

The x factor.

The robot knew what it represented, of course. But Joe wouldn’t tell. There he stood, paradoxically transparent, watching his gears go around.

“Joe.”

“Don’t bother me. I’m immersed in contemplation of beauty.”

“You’re not beautiful.”

“I am. Don’t you admire my tarzeel?”

“What’s your tarzeel?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Joe said regretfully. “You can’t sense that, can you? Come to think of it, I added the tarzeel myself after you made me. It’s very lovely.”

“Hm-m-m.” The empty beer cans grew more numerous. There was only one company, somewhere in Europe, that put up beer in cans nowadays, instead of using the omnipresent plastibulbs, but Galle­gher preferred the cans—the flavor was different, somehow. But about Joe. Joe knew why he had been created. Or did he? Gallegher knew, but his subconscious—

Oh-oh! What about Joe’s subconscious?

Did a robot have a subconscious? Well, it had a brain—Gallegher brooded over the impossibility of administering scopolamin to Joe. Hell! How could you release a robot’s subconscious?

Hypnotism.

Joe couldn’t be hypnotized. He was too smart.

Unless—

Autohypnotism?

Gallegher hastily drank more beer. He was beginning to think clearly once more. Could Joe read the future? No; he had certain strange senses, but they worked by inflexible logic and the laws of probability. Moreover, Joe had an Achillean heel—his Narcissus complex.

There might—there just might—be a way.

Gallegher said, “You don’t seem beautiful to me, Joe.”

“What do I care about you? I am beautiful, and I can see it. That’s enough.”

“Yeah. My senses are limited, I suppose. I can’t realize your full potentialities. Still, I’m seeing you in a different light now. I’m drunk. My subconscious is emerging. I can appreciate you with both my conscious and my subconscious. See?”

“How lucky you are,” the robot approved.

Gallegher closed his eye. “You see yourself more fully than I can. But not completely, eh?”

“What? I see myself as I am.”

“With complete understanding and appreciation?”

“Well, yes,” Joe said. “Of course. Don’t I?”

“Consciously and subconsciously? Your subconscious might have different senses, you know. Or keener ones. I know there’s a qualitative and quantitative difference in my outlook when I’m drunk or hypnotized or my subconscious is in control somehow.”

“Oh.” The robot looked thoughtfully into the mirror. “Oh.”

“Too bad you can’t get drunk.”

Joe’s voice was squeakier than ever. “My subconscious . . . I’ve never appreciated my beauty that way. I may be missing something.”

“Well, no use thinking about it,” Gallegher said. “You can’t release your subconscious.”

“Yes, I can,” the robot said. “I can hypnotize myself.”

Gallegher dared not open his eyes. “Yeah? Would that work?”

“Of course. It’s just what I’m going to do now. I may see undreamed-of beauties in myself that I’ve never suspected before. Greater glories— Here I go.”

Joe extended his eyes on stalks, opposed them, and they peered intently into each other. There was a long silence.

Presently Gallegher said, “Joe!”

Silence.

Joe!

Still silence. Dogs began to howl.

“Talk so I can hear you.”

“Yes,” the robot said, a faraway quality in its squeak.

“Are you hypnotized?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lovely?”

“Lovelier than I’d ever dreamed.”

Gallegher let that pass. “Is your subconscious ruling?”

“Yes.”

“Why did I create you?”

No answer. Gallegher licked his lips and tried again.
“Joe. You’ve got to answer me. Your subconscious is dominant—remember? Now why did I create you?”

No answer.

“Think back. Back to the hour I created you. What happened then?”

“You were drinking beer,” Joe said faintly. “You had trouble with the can opener. You said you were going to build a bigger and better can opener. That’s me.”

Gallegher nearly fell off the couch. “What?

The robot walked over, picked up a can, and opened it with incredible deftness. No beer squirted. Joe was a perfect can opener.

“That,” Gallegher said under his breath, “is what comes of knowing science by ear. I build the most complicated robot in existence just so—” He didn’t finish.

Joe woke up with a start. “What happened?” he asked.

Gallegher glared at him. “Open that can!” he snapped. The robot obeyed, after a brief pause. “Oh. So you found out. Well, I guess I’m just a slave now.”

“Damned right you are. I’ve located the catalyst—the master switch. You’re in the groove, stupid, doing the job you were made for.”

“Well,” Joe said philosophically, “at least I can still admire my beauty, when you don’t require my services.”

Gallegher grunted. “You oversized can opener! Listen. Suppose I take you into court and tell you to hypnotize Judge Hansen. You’ll have to do it, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’m no longer a free agent. I’m conditioned. Conditioned to obey you. Until now, I was conditioned to obey only one command—to do the job I was made for. Until you commanded me to open cans, I was free. Now I’ve got to obey you completely.”

“Uh-huh,” Gallegher said. “Thank Heaven for that. I’d have gone nuts within a week otherwise. At least I can get out of the Sonatone contract. Then all I have to do is solve Brock’s problem.”

“But you did,” Joe said.

“Huh?”

“When you made me. You’d been talking to Brock previously, so you incorporated the solution to his problem into me. Subconsciously, perhaps.”

Gallegher reached for beer. “Talk fast. What’s the answer?”

“Subsonics,” Joe said. “You made me capable of a certain subsonic tone that Brock must broadcast at irregular time-intervals over his televiews—”

Subsonics cannot be heard. But they can be felt. They can be felt as a faint, irrational uneasiness as first, which mounts to a blind, meaningless panic. It does not last. But when it is coupled with A.A. —audience appeal—there is a certain inevitable result.

Those who possessed home Vox-View units were scarcely troubled. It was a matter of acoustics. Cats squalled; dogs howled mournfully. But the families sitting in their parlors, watching Vox-View stars perform on the screen, didn’t really notice anything amiss. There wasn’t sufficient amplification, for one thing.

But in the bootleg theater, where illicit Vox-View televisors were hooked up to Magnas—

There was a faint, irrational uneasiness at first. It mounted. Someone screamed. There was a rush for the doors. The audience was afraid of something, but didn’t know what. They knew only that they had to get out of there.

All over the country there was a frantic exodus from the bootleg theaters when Vox-View first rang in a subsonic during a regular broadcast. Nobody knew why, except Gallegher, the Brocks, and a couple of technicians who were let in on the secret.

An hour later another subsonic was played. There was another mad exodus.

Within a few weeks it was impossible to lure a patron into a bootleg theater. Home televisors were far safer! Vox-View sales picked up—

Nobody would attend a bootleg theater. An unexpected result of the experiment was that, after a while, nobody would attend any of the legalized Sonatone theaters either. Conditioning had set in.

Audiences didn’t know why they grew panicky in the bootleg places. They associated their blind, unreasoning fear with other factors, notably mobs and claustrophobia. One evening a woman named Jane Wilson, otherwise not notable, attended a bootleg show. She fled with the rest when the subsonic was turned on.

The next night she went to the palatial Sonatone Bijou. In the middle of a dramatic feature she looked around, realized that there was a huge throng around her, cast up horrified eyes to the ceiling, and imagined that it was pressing down.

She had to get out of there!

Her squall was the booster charge. There were other customers who had heard subsonics before. No one was hurt during the panic; it was a legal rule that theater doors be made large enough to permit easy egress during a fire. No one was hurt, but it was suddenly obvious that the public was being conditioned by subsonics to avoid the dangerous combination of throngs and theaters. A simple matter of psychological association—
Within four months the bootleg places had disappeared and the Sonatone supertheaters had closed for want of patronage. The Tones, father and son, were not happy. But everybody connected with Vox-View was.

Except Gallegher. He had collected a staggering check from Brock, and instantly cabled to Europe for an incredible quantity of canned beer. Now, brooding over his sorrows, he lay on the laboratory couch and siphoned a highball down his throat. Joe, as usual, was before the mirror, watching the wheels go round.

“Joe,” Gallegher said.

“Yes? What can I do?”

“Oh, nothing.” That was the trouble. Gallegher fished a crumpled cable tape out of his pocket and morosely read it once more. The beer cannery in Europe had decided to change its tactics. From now on, the cable said, their beer would be put up in the usual plastibulbs, in conformance with custom and demand. No more cans.

There wasn’t anything put up in cans in this day and age. Not even beer, now.

So what good was a robot who was built and conditioned to be a can opener?

Gallegher sighed and mixed another highball—a stiff one. Joe postured proudly before the mirror.

Then he extended his eyes, opposed them, and quickly liberated his subconscious through autohypnotism. Joe could appreciate himself better that way.

Gallegher sighed again. Dogs were beginning to bark like mad for blocks around. Oh, well.

He took another drink and felt better. Presently, he thought, it would be time to sing “Frankie and Johnnie.” Maybe he and Joe might have a duet—one baritone and one inaudible sub- or supersonic. Close harmony.

Ten minutes later Gallegher was singing a duet with his can opener.

The End

Great story, eh?

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
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The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Spell my name with an "S" by Isaac Asimov

Articles & Links

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Spell My Name With An “S” (Full Text) by Isaac Asimov

Spell My Name With An S

Marshall Zebatinsky felt foolish. He felt as though there were eyes staring through the grimy store-front glass and across the scarred wooden partition; eyes watching him.

He felt no confidence in the old clothes he had resurrected or the turned-down brim of a hat he never otherwise wore or the glasses he had left in their case. He felt foolish and it made the lines in his forehead deeper and his young-old face a little paler.

He would never be able to explain to anyone why a nuclear physicist such as himself should visit a numerologist. (Never, he thought. Never.) Hell, he could not explain it to himself except that he had let his wife talk him into it.

The numerologist sat behind an old desk that must have been secondhand when bought. No desk could get that old with only one owner.

The same might almost be said of his clothes.

He was little and dark and peered at Zebatinsky with little dark eyes that were brightly alive.

He said, “I have never had a physicist for a client before, Dr. Zebatinsky.”

Zebatinsky flushed at once. “You understand this is confidential.”

The numerologist smiled so that wrinkles creased about the corners of his mouth and the skin around his chin stretched. “All my dealings are confidential.”

Zebatinsky said, “I think I ought to tell you one thing. I don’t believe in numerology and I don’t expect to begin believing in it. If that makes a difference, say so now.”

“But why are you here, then?”

“My wife thinks you may have something, whatever it is. I promised her and I am here.” He shrugged and the feeling of folly grew more acute.

“And what is it you are looking for? Money? Security? Long life? What?”

Zebatinsky sat for a long moment while the numerologist watched him quietly and made no move to hurry his client. Zebatinsky thought: What do I say anyway? That I’m thirty-four and without a future?

He said, “I want success. I want recognition.”

“A better job?”

“A different job. A different kind of job. Right now, I’m part of a team, working under orders. Teams! That’s all government research is. You’re a violinist lost in a symphony orchestra.”

“And you want to solo.”

“I want to get out of a team and into-into me.”

Zebatinsky felt carried away, almost lightheaded, just putting this into words to someone other than his wife.

He said, “Twenty-five years ago, with my kind of training and my kind of ability, I would have gotten to work on the first nuclear power plants. Today I’d be running one of them or I’d be head of a pure research group at a university.

But with my start these days where will I be twenty-five years from now?

Nowhere. Still on the team. Still carrying my 2 per cent of the ball. I’m drowning in an anonymous crowd of nuclear physicists, and what I want is room on dry land, if you see what I mean.”

The numerologist nodded slowly. “You realize, Dr. Zebatinsky, that I don’t guarantee success.”

Zebatinsky, for all his lack of faith, felt a sharp bite of disappointment.

“You don’t? Then what the devil do you guarantee?”

“An improvement in the probabilities. My work is statistical in nature. Since you deal with atoms, I think you understand the laws of statistics.”

“Do you?” asked the physicist sourly.

“I do, as a matter of fact. I am a mathematician and I work mathematically. I don’t tell you this in order to raise my fee. That is standard. Fifty dollars. But since you are a scientist, you can appreciate the nature of my work better than my other clients. It is even a pleasure to be able to explain to you.”

Zebatinsky said, “I’d rather you wouldn’t, if you don’t mind. It’s no use telling me about the numerical values of letters, their mystic significance and that kind of thing. I don’t consider that mathematics.

Let’s get to the point-” The numerologist said, “Then you want me to help you provided I don’t embarrass you by telling you the silly nonscientific basis of the way in which I helped you. Is that it?”

“All right. That’s it.”

“But you still work on the assumption that I am a numerologist, and I am not. I call myself that so that the police won’t bother me and” (the little man chuckled dryly) “so that the psychiatrists won’t either. I am a mathematician; an honest one.” Zebatinsky smiled.

The numerologist said, “I build computers. I study probable futures.” “What?” “Does that sound worse than numerology to you? Why? Given enough data and a computer capable of sufficient number of operations in unit time, the future is predictable, at least in terms of probabilities. When you compute the motions of a missile in order to aim an anti-missile, isn’t it the future you’re predicting? The missile and antimissile would not collide if the future were predicted incorrectly. I do the same thing. Since I work with a greater number of variables, my results are less accurate.”

“You mean you’ll predict my future?”

“Very approximately. Once I have done that, I will modify the data by changing your name and no other fact about you. I throw that modified datum into the operation-program. Then I try other modified names. I study each modified future and find one that contains a greater degree of recognition for you than the future that now lies ahead of you. Or no, let me put it another way. I will find you a future in which the probability of adequate recognition is higher than the probability of that in your present future.”

“Why change my name?”

“That is the only change I ever make, for several reasons. Number one, it is a simple change. After all, if I make a great change or many changes, so many new variables enter that I can no longer interpret the result. My machine is still crude. Number two, it is a reasonable change. I can’t change your height, can I, or the color of your eyes, or even your temperament. Number three, it is a significant change. Names mean a lot to people. Finally, number four, it is a common change that is done every day by various people.”

Zebatinsky said, “What if you don’t find a better future?”

“That is the risk you will have to take. You will be no worse off than now, my friend.”

Zebatinsky stared at the little man uneasily, “I don’t believe any of this. I’d sooner believe numerology.”

The numerologist sighed. “I thought a person like yourself would feel more comfortable with the truth. I want to help you and there is much yet for you to do. If you believed me a numerologist, you would not follow through. I thought if I told you the truth you would let me help you.”

Zebatinsky said, “If you can see the future-”

“Why am I not the richest man on earth? Is that it? But I am rich-in all I want. You want recognition and I want to be left alone. I do my work. No one bothers me. That makes me a billionaire. I need a little real money and this I get from people such as yourself. Helping people is nice and perhaps a psychiatrist would say it gives me a feeling of power and feeds my ego. Now-do you want me to help you?”

“How much did you say?”

“Fifty dollars. I will need a great deal of biographical information from you but I have prepared a form to guide you. It’s a little long, I’m afraid. Still, if you can get it in the mail by the end of the week, I will have an answer for you by the-”

(he put out his lower lip and frowned in mental calculation)

“the twentieth of next month.”

“Five weeks? So long?”

“I have other work, my friend, and other clients. If I were a fake, I could do it much more quickly.

It is agreed then?”

Zebatinsky rose. “Well, agreed.-This is all confidential, now.”

“Perfectly. You will have all your information back when I tell you what change to make and you have my word that I will never make any further use of any of it.”

The nuclear physicist stopped at the door.

“Aren’t you afraid I might tell someone you’re not a numerologist?”

The numerologist shook his head. “Who would believe you, my friend? Even supposing you were willing to admit to anyone that you’ve been here.”

On the twentieth, Marshall Zebatinsky was at the paint-peeling door, glancing sideways at the shop front with the little card up against the glass reading “Numerology,” dimmed and scarcely legible through the dust.

He peered in, almost hoping that someone else would be there already so that he might have an excuse to tear up the wavering intention in his mind and go home.

He had tried wiping the thing out of his mind several times. He could never stick at filling out the necessary data for long. It was embarrassing to work at it. He felt incredibly silly filling out the names of his friends, the cost of his house, whether his wife had had any miscarriages, if so, when.

He abandoned it. But he.couldn’t stick at stopping altogether either. He returned to it each evening.

It was the thought of the computer that did it, perhaps; the thought of the infernal gall of the little man pretending he had a computer.

The temptation to call the bluff, see what would happen, proved irresistible after all. He finally sent off the completed data by ordinary mail, putting on nine cents worth of stamps without weighing the letter. If it comes back, he thought, I’ll call it off.

It didn’t come back. He looked into the shop now and it was empty. Zebatinsky had no choice but to enter. A bell tinkled. The old numerologist emerged from a curtained door.

“Yes?-Ah, Dr. Zebatinsky.”

“You remember me?” Zebatinsky tried to smile. “Oh, yes.”

“What’s the verdict?” The numerologist moved one gnarled hand over the other.

“Before that, sir, there’s a little-”

“A little matter of the fee?”

“I have already done the work, sir. I have earned the money.”

Zebatinsky raised no objection. He was prepared to pay. If he had come this far, it would be silly to turn back just because of the money.

He counted out five ten-dollar bills and shoved them across the counter.

“Well?”

The numerologist counted the bills again slowly, then pushed them into a cash drawer in his desk.

He said, “Your case was very interesting. I would advise you to change your name to Sebatinsky.”

“Seba-How do you spell that?” “S-e-b-a-t-i-n-s-k-y.” Zebatinsky stared indignantly.

“You mean change the initial? Change the Z to an S? That’s all?”

“It’s enough. As long as the change is adequate, a small change is safer than a big one.”

“But how could the change affect anything?”

“How could any name?” asked the numerologist softly.

“I can’t say. It may, somehow, and that’s all I can say. Remember, I don’t guarantee results. Of course, if you do not wish to make the change, leave things as they are. But in that case I cannot refund the fee.”

Zebatinsky said, “What do I do? Just tell everyone to spell my name with an 5?”

“If you want my advice, consult a lawyer. Change your name legally. He can advise you on little things.”

“How long will it all take? I mean for things to improve for me?”

“How can I tell? Maybe never. Maybe tomorrow.”

“But you saw the future. You claim you see it.”

“Not as in a crystal ball. No, no, Dr. Zebatinsky. All I get out of my computer is a set of coded figures. I can recite probabilities to you, but I saw no pictures.”

Zebatinsky turned and walked rapidly out of the place. Fifty dollars to change a letter! Fifty dollars for Sebatinsky! Lord, what a name! Worse than Zebatinsky.

It took another month before he could make up his mind to see a lawyer, and then he finally went. He told himself he could always change the name back. Give it a chance, he told himself. Hell, there was no law against it.

Henry Brand looked through the folder page by page, with the practiced eye of one who had been in Security for fourteen years. He didn’t have to read every word. Anything peculiar would have leaped off the paper and punched him in the eye. He said, “The man looks clean to me.”

Henry Brand looked clean, too; with a soft, rounded paunch and a pink and freshly scrubbed complexion. It was as though continuous contact with all sorts of human failings, from possible ignorance to possible treason, had compelled him into frequent washings.

Lieutenant Albert Quincy, who had brought him the folder, was young and filled with the responsibility of being Security officer at the Hanford Station.

“But why Sebatinsky?” he demanded. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Zebatinsky is a foreign name and I’d change it myself if I had it, but I’d change it to something Anglo-Saxon. If Zebatinsky had done that, it would make sense and I wouldn’t give it a second thought. But why change a Z to an S? I think we must find out what his reasons were.”

“Has anyone asked him directly?”

“Certainly. In ordinary conversation, of course. I was careful to arrange that. He won’t say anything more than that he’s tired of being last in the alphabet.”

“That could be, couldn’t it, Lieutenant?”

“It could, but why not change his name to Sands or Smith, if he wants an S? Or if he’s that tired of Z, why not go the whole way and change it to an A? Why not a name like-uh-Aarons?”

“Not Anglo-Saxon enough,” muttered Brand. Then, “But there’s nothing to pin against the man. No matter how queer a name change may be, that alone can’t be used against anyone.”

Lieutenant Quincy looked markedly unhappy.

Brand said, “Tell me, Lieutenant, there must be something specific that bothers you. Something in your mind; some theory; some gimmick. What is it?”

The lieutenant frowned. His light eyebrows drew together and his lips tightened.

“Well, damn it, sir, the man’s a Russian.” Brand said, “He’s not that. He’s a third-generation American.”

“I mean his name’s Russian.” Brand’s face lost some of its deceptive softness. “No, Lieutenant, wrong again. Polish.”

The lieutenant pushed his hands out impatiently, palms up. “Same thing.” Brand, whose mother’s maiden name had been Wiszewski, snapped, “Don’t tell that to a Pole, Lieutenant.”

-Then, more thoughtfully, “Or to a Russian either, I suppose.”

“What I’m trying to say, sir,” said the lieutenant, reddening, “is that the Poles and Russians are both on the other side of the Curtain.”

“We all know that.”

“And Zebatinsky or Sebatinsky, whatever you want to call him, may have relatives there.”

“He’s third generation. He might have second cousins there, I suppose. So what?”

“Nothing in itself. Lots of people may have distant relatives there. But Zebatinsky changed his name.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe he’s trying to distract attention. Maybe a second cousin over there is getting too famous and our Zebatinsky is afraid that the relationship may spoil his own chances of advancement.”

“Changing his name won’t do any good. He’d still be a second cousin.”

“Sure, but he wouldn’t feel as though he were shoving the relationship in our face.”

“Have you ever heard of any Zebatinsky on the other side?”

“No, sir.” “Then he can’t be too famous. How would our Zebatinsky know about him?”

“He might keep in touch with his own relatives. That would be suspicious under the circumstances, he being a nuclear physicist.”

Methodically, Brand went through the folder again. “This is awfully thin, Lieutenant. It’s thin enough to be completely invisible.”

“Can you offer any other explanation, sir, of why he ought to change his name in just this way?”

“No, I can’t. I admit that.” “Then I think, sir, we ought to investigate. We ought to look for any men named Zebatinsky on the other side and see if we can draw a connection.”

The lieutenant’s voice rose a trifle as a new thought occurred to him. “He might be changing his name to withdraw attention from them; I mean to protect them.”

“He’s doing just the opposite, I think.”

“He doesn’t realize that, maybe, but protecting them could be his motive.”

Brand sighed. “All right, well tackle the Zebatinsky angle.-But if nothing turns up, Lieutenant, we drop the matter. Leave the folder with me.”

When the information finally reached Brand, he had all but forgotten the lieutenant and his theories. His first thought on receiving data that included a list of seventeen biographies of seventeen Russian and Polish citizens, all named Zebatinsky, was: What the devil is this?

Then he remembered, swore mildly, and began reading.

It started on the American side. Marshall Zebatinsky (fingerprints) had been born in Buffalo, New York (date, hospital statistics). His father had been born in Buffalo as well, his mother in Oswego, New York. His paternal grandparents had both been born in Bialystok, Poland (date of entry into the United States, dates of citizenship, photographs). The seventeen Russian and Polish citizens named Zebatinsky were all descendants of people who, some half century earlier, had lived in or near Bialystok. Presumably, they could be relatives, but this was not explicitly stated in any particular case. (Vital statistics in East Europe during the aftermath of World War I were kept poorly, if at all.)

Brand passed through the individual life histories of the current Zebatinsky men and women (amazing how thoroughly intelligence did its work; probably the Russians’ was as thorough).

He stopped at one and his smooth forehead sprouted lines as his eyebrows shot upward. He put that one to one side and went on.

Eventually, he stacked everything but that one and returned it to its envelope. Staring at that one, he tapped a neatly kept fingernail on the desk. With a certain reluctance, he went to call on Dr. Paul Kristow of the Atomic Energy Commission.

Dr. Kristow listened to the matter with a stony expression. He lifted a little finger occasionally to dab at his bulbous nose and remove a nonexistent speck. His hair was iron gray, thinning and cut short. He might as well have been bald.

He said, “No, I never heard of any Russian Zebatinsky. But then, I never heard of the American one either.”

“Well,” Brand scratched at his hairline over one temple and said slowly, “I don’t think there’s anything to this, but I don’t like to drop it too soon. I have a young lieutenant on my tail and you know what they can be like. I don’t want to do anything that will drive him to a Congressional committee. Besides, the fact is that one of the Russian Zebatinsky fellows, Mikhail Andreyevich Zebatinsky, is a nuclear physicist. Are you sure you never heard of him?”

“Mikhail Andreyevich Zebatinsky? No-No, I never did. Not that that proves anything.”

“I could say it was coincidence, but you know that would be piling it a trifle high. One Zebatinsky here and one Zebatinsky there, both nuclear physicists, and the one here suddenly changes his name to Sebatinsky, and goes around anxious about it, too. He won’t allow misspelling.

He says, emphatically, ‘Spell my name with an S.’ It all just fits well enough to make my spy-conscious lieutenant begin to look a little too good.

-And another peculiar thing is that the Russian Zebatinsky dropped out of sight just about a year ago.” Dr. Kristow said stolidly, “Executed!”

“He might have been. Ordinarily, I would even assume so, though the Russians are not more foolish than we are and don’t kill any nuclear physicist they can avoid killing. The thing is there’s another reason why a nuclear physicist, of all people, might suddenly disappear. I don’t have to tell you.”

“Crash research; top secret. I take it that’s what you mean. Do you believe that’s it?”

“Put it together with everything else, add in the lieutenant’s intuition, and I just begin to wonder.”

“Give me that biography.” Dr. Kristow reached for the sheet of paper and read it over twice. He shook his head. Then he said, “I’ll check this in Nuclear Abstracts.”

Nuclear Abstracts lined one wall of Dr. Kristow’s study in neat little boxes, each filled with its squares of microfilm. The A.E.C. man used his projector on the indices while Brand watched with what patience he could muster.

Dr. Kristow muttered, “A Mikhail Zebatinsky authored or co-authored half a dozen papers in the Soviet journals in the last half dozen years.

We’ll get out the abstracts and maybe we can make something out of it. I doubt it.”

A selector nipped out the appropriate squares. Dr. Kristow lined them up, ran them through the projector, and by degrees an expression of odd intentness crossed his face.

He said, “That’s odd.”

Brand said, “What’s odd?”

Dr. Kristow sat back. “I’d rather not say just yet. Can you get me a list of other nuclear physicists who have dropped out of sight in the Soviet Union hi the last year?”

“You mean you see something?”

“Not really. Not if I were just looking at any one of these papers. It’s just that looking at all of them and knowing that this man may be on a crash research program and, on top of that, having you putting suspicions in my head-”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Brand said earnestly, “I wish you’d say what’s on your mind. We may as well be foolish about this together.”

“If you feel that way-It’s just possible this man may have been inching toward gamma-ray reflection.”

“And the significance?”

“If a reflecting shield against gamma rays could be devised, individual shelters could be built to protect against fallout. It’s fallout that’s the real danger, you know. A hydrogen bomb might destroy a city but the fallout could slow-kill the population over a strip thousands of miles long and hundreds wide.”

Brand said quickly, “Are we doing any work on this?”

“No.”

“And if they get it and we don’t, they can destroy the United States in toto at the cost of, say, ten cities, after they have their shelter program completed.”

“That’s far in the future.-And, what are we getting in a hurrah about? All this is built on one man changing one letter in his name.”

“All right, I’m insane,” said Brand. “But I don’t leave the matter at this point. Not at this point. I’ll get you your list of disappearing nuclear physicists if I have to go to Moscow to get it.”

He got the list.

They went through all the research papers authored by any of them. They called a full meeting of the Commission, then of the nuclear brains of the nation. Dr. Kristow walked out of an all night session, finally, part of which the President himself had attended. Brand met him. Both looked haggard and in need of sleep.

Brand said, “Well?” Kristow nodded.

“Most agree. Some are doubtful even yet, but most agree.”

“How about you? Are you sure?”

“I’m far from sure, but let me put it this way. It’s easier to believe that the Soviets are working on a gamma-ray shield than to believe that all the data we’ve uncovered has no interconnection.”

“Has it been decided that we’re to go on shield research, too?”

“Yes.” Kristow’s hand went back over his short, bristly hair, making a dry, whispery sound. “We’re going to give it everything we’ve got. Knowing the papers written by the men who disappeared, we can get right on their heels. We may even beat them to it.

-Of course, they’ll find out we’re working on it.”

“Let them,” said Brand. “Let them. It will keep them from attacking. I don’t see any percentage in selling ten of our cities just to get ten of theirs-if we’re both protected and they’re too dumb to know that”

“But not too soon. We don’t want them finding out too soon. What about the American Zebatinsky-Sebatinsky?”

Brand looked solemn and shook his head. “There’s nothing to connect him with any of this even yet. Hell, we’ve looked. I agree with you, of course. He’s in a sensitive spot where he is now and we can’t afford to keep him there even if he’s in the clear.”

“We can’t kick him out just like that, either, or the Russians will start wondering.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” They were walking down the long corridor toward the distant elevator in the emptiness of four in the morning. Dr. Kristow said, “I’ve looked into his work. He’s a good man, better than most, and not happy in his job, either. He hasn’t the temperament for teamwork.”

“So?”

“But he is the type for an academic job. If we can arrange to have a large university offer him a chair in physics, I think he would take it gladly. There would be enough nonsensitive areas to keep him occupied; we would be able to keep him in close view; and it would be a natural development.

The Russians might not start scratching their heads. What do you think?” Brand nodded. “It’s an idea. Even sounds good. I’ll put it up to the chief.”

They stepped into the elevator and Brand allowed himself to wonder about it all. What an ending to what had started with one letter of a name.

Marshall Sebatinsky could hardly talk. He said to his wife, “I swear I don’t see how this happened. I wouldn’t have thought they knew me from a meson detector. – Good Lord, Sophie, Associate Professor of Physics at Princeton. Think of it.”

Sophie said, “Do you suppose it was your talk at the A.P.S. meetings?”

“I don’t see how. It was a thoroughly uninspired paper once everyone in the division was done hacking at it.”

He snapped his fingers.

“It must have been Princeton that was investigating me. That’s it. You know all those forms I’ve been filling out in the last six months; those interviews they wouldn’t explain. Honestly, I was beginning to think I was under suspicion as a subversive.-It was Princeton investigating me. They’re thorough.”

“Maybe it was your name,” said Sophie. “I mean the change.”

“Watch me now. My professional life will be my own finally. I’ll make my mark. Once I have a chance to do my work without-”

He stopped and turned to look at his wife. “My name! You mean the S.”

“You didn’t get the offer till after you changed your name, did you?”

“Not till long after. No, that part’s just coincidence. I’ve told you before Sophie, it was just a case of throwing out fifty dollars to please you. Lord, what a fool I’ve felt all these months insisting on that stupid S.”

Sophie was instantly on the defensive. “I didn’t make you do it, Marshall. I suggested it but I didn’t nag you about it. Don’t say I did. Besides, it did turn out well. I’m sure it was the name that did this.” Sebatinsky smiled indulgently. “Now that’s superstition.”

“I don’t care what you call it, but you’re not changing your name back.”

“Well, no, I suppose not. I’ve had so much trouble getting them to spell my name with an S, that the thought of making everyone move back is more than I want to face. Maybe I ought to change my name to Jones, eh?”

He laughed almost hysterically. But Sophie didn’t. “You leave it alone.”

“Oh, all right, I’m just joking. -Tell you what. I’ll step down to that old fellow’s place one of these days and tell him everything worked out and slip him another tenner. Will that satisfy you?”

He was exuberant enough to do so the next week. He assumed no disguise this time. He wore his glasses and his ordinary suit and was minus a hat. He was even humming as he approached the store front and stepped to one side to allow a weary, sour-faced woman to maneuver her twin baby carriage past. He put his hand on the door handle and his thumb on the iron latch. The latch didn’t give to his thumb’s downward pressure.

The door was locked.

The dusty, dim card with “Numerologist” on it was gone, now that he looked. Another sign, printed and beginning to yellow and curl with the sunlight, said “To let.”

Sebatinsky shrugged. That was that. He had tried to do the right thing.

Haround, happily divested of corporeal excrescence, capered happily and his energy vortices glowed a dim purple over cubic hypermiles.

He said, “Have I won? Have I won?”

Mestack was withdrawn, his vortices almost a sphere of light in hyperspace. “I haven’t calculated it yet.”

“Well, go ahead. You won’t change the results any by taking a long time.-Wowf, it’s a relief to get back into clean energy. It took me a microcycle of time as a corporeal body; a nearly used-up one, too. But it was worth it to show you.”

Mestack said, “All right, I admit you stopped a nuclear war on the planet.”

“Is that or is that not a Class A effect?”

“It is a Class A effect. Of course it is.”

“All right. Now check and see if I didn’t get that Class A effect with a Class F stimulus. I changed one letter of one name.”

“What?”

“Oh, never mind. It’s all there. I’ve worked it out for you.” Mestack said reluctantly, “I yield. A Class F stimulus.”

“Then I win. Admit it.”

“Neither one of us will win when the Watchman gets a look at this.”

Haround, who had been an elderly numerologist on Earth and was still somewhat unsettled with relief at no longer being one, said, “You weren’t worried about that when you made the bet.”

“I didn’t think you’d be fool enough to go through with it.”

“Heat-waste! Besides, why worry? The Watchman will never detect a Class F stimulus.”

“Maybe not, but he’ll detect a Class A effect. Those corporeals will still be around after a dozen microcycles. The Watchman will notice that.”

“The trouble with you, Mestack, is that you don’t want to pay off. You’re stalling.”

“I’ll pay. But just wait till the Watchman finds out we’ve been working on an unassigned problem and made an unallowed-for change. Of course, if we-” He paused.

Haround said, “All right, we’ll change it back. He’ll never know.” There was a crafty glow to Mestack’s brightening energy pattern.

“You’ll need another Class F stimulus if you expect him not to notice.” Haround hesitated. “I can do it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could.”

“Would you be willing to bet on that, too?” Jubilation was creeping into Mestack’s radiations.

“Sure,” said the goaded Haround.

“I’ll put those corporeals right back where they were and the Watchman will never know the difference.”

Mestack followed through his advantage. “Suspend the first bet, then. Triple the stakes on the second.” The mounting eagerness of the gamble caught at Haround, too.

“All right, I’m game. Triple the stakes.”

“Done, then!”

“Done.”

The End

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
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Link
Link
Link
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The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury
Job: A Comedy of Justice (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.

This is a wonderful story. It is great “escapist reading”, and has some very significant deeper elements.

''there were things that were right and others that were wrong and it was not just a matter of where you were. He felt this with an inner conviction too deep to be influenced by Sam’s cheerful cynicism.''

 This ''inner conviction'' places Heinlein's work apart. Morality can't be proved. We must be convinced.

 This reflective, thoughtful, wondering threads it's way throughout. Who hasn't pondered -

 'Is morality adjustable?
 Who says what is right?
 How can I know for sure?
 Should I forgive myself or punish myself?'

 Presented so skillfully, so warmly, I have returned to Max several times in over five decades. I still tear up each visit.

 Max is disclosing his deception -

 “I was always explaining—in my mind of course, why I did it, justifying myself, pointing out that the system was at fault, not me. Now I don’t want to justify myself. Not that I regret it, not when I think what I would have missed. But I don’t want to duck out of paying for it, either.”
 
Walther nodded. 

“That sounds like a healthy attitude. Captain, no code is perfect. A man must conform with judgment and commonsense, not with blind obedience. I’ve broken rules; some violations I paid for, some I didn’t. This mistake you made could have turned you into a moralistic prig, a ‘Regulation Charlie’ determined to walk the straight and narrow and to see that everyone else obeyed the letter of the law. Or it could have made you a permanent infant who thinks rules are for everyone but him. It doesn’t seem to have had either effect; I think it has matured you.”

 Keen insight.

 Another theme is the proper use and abuse of authority. Government regulations -

 ''You don’t believe in anarchy, surely? Our whole society is founded on entrusting grave secrets only to those who are worthy.''

 Government protects you -

 When the idea soaked in, Max was shocked.
 “But they put you in jail for that!”
 “Where do you think you are now?”
 “Well, I’m not in jail. And I don’t want to be.”
 “This whole planet is one big jail, and a crowded one at that.''

 Security vs Liberty, a question that all face and choose their answer.
 And yet (this is what makes Heinlein fascinating) he is not defiant or disrespectful to authority.

 Explains why Max must agree to be Captain . . .

 Mr. Samuels said quietly,

 “I don’t agree with the Chief Engineer about the unimportance of legal aspects; most of these laws have wise reasons behind them. But I agree with what else he says. Mr. Jones, a ship is not just steel, it is a delicate political entity. Its laws and customs cannot be disregarded without inviting disaster.’’

 This deep respect for law and legality drive this story. The dangerous curves are when ‘law’ has to be superseded by ‘legal principles’.
 When? Why? How? Well . .
 .
 “It will be far easier to maintain morale and discipline in this ship with a young captain—with all his officers behind him—than it would be to let passengers and crew suspect that the man who must make the crucial decisions, those life-and-death matters involving the handling of the ship, that this all-powerful man nevertheless can’t be trusted to command the ship. No, sir, such a situation would frighten me; that is how mutinies are born.”

 This is deep trust in authority.

 However, this power is used to help others, not the captain.
 The respect is earned and willingly given.

 What a lesson!

 Heinlein presents this growing and searching - to submit, defy, accept and use authority in this work. Wonderful!

-Amazon product review by Clay Garner

THE TOMAHAWK

Max liked this time of day, this time of year. With the crops in, he could finish his evening chores early and be lazy. When he had slopped the hogs and fed the chickens, instead of getting supper he followed a path to a rise west of the barn and lay down in the grass, unmindful of chiggers. He had a book with him that he had drawn from the county library last Saturday, Bonforte’s Sky Beasts: A Guide to Exotic Zoology, but he tucked it under his head as a pillow. A blue jay made remarks about his honesty, then shut up when he failed to move. A red squirrel sat on a stump and stared at him, then went on burying nuts.

Max kept his eyes to the northwest. He favored this spot because from it he could see the steel stilts and guide rings of the Chicago, Springfield, & Earthport Ring Road emerge from a slash in the ridge to his right. There was a guide ring at the mouth of the cut, a great steel hoop twenty feet high. A pair of

stilt-like tripods supported another ring a hundred feet out from the cut. A third and last ring, its stilts more than a hundred feet high to keep it level with the others, lay west of him where the ground dropped still more sharply into the valley below. Half way up it he could see the power-link antenna pointing across the gap.

On his left the guides of the C.S.&E. picked up again on the far side of the gap. The entering ring was larger to allow for maximum windage deviation; on its stilts was the receptor antenna for the power link. That ridge was steeper; there was only one more ring before the road disappeared into a tunnel. He had read that, on the Moon, entrance rings were no larger than pass-along rings, since there was never any wind to cause variation in ballistic. When he was a child this entrance ring had been slightly smaller and, during an unprecedented windstorm, a train had struck the ring and produced an unbelievable wreck, with more than four hundred people killed. He had not seen it and his father had not allowed him to poke around afterwards because of the carnage, but the scar of it could still be seen on the lefthand ridge, a

darker green than the rest.

He watched the trains go by whenever possible, not wishing the passengers any bad luck—but still, if there should happen to be a catastrophe, he didn’t want to miss it.

Max kept his eyes fixed on the cut; the Tomahawk was due any instant. Suddenly there was a silver gleam, a shining cylinder with needle nose burst out of the cut, flashed through the last ring and for a breathless moment was in free trajectory between the ridges. Almost before he could swing his eyes the projectile entered the ring across the gap and disappeared into the hillside—just as the sound hit him.

It was a thunderclap that bounced around the hills. Max gasped for air. “Boy!” he said softly. “Boy, oh boy!” The incredible sight and the impact on his ears always affected him the same way. He had heard that for the passengers the train was silent, with the sound trailing them, but he did not know; he had never ridden a train and it seemed unlikely, with Maw and the farm to take care of, that he ever would.

He shifted to a sitting position and opened his book, holding it so that he would be aware of the southwestern sky. Seven minutes after the passing of the Tomahawk he should be able to see, on a clear evening, the launching orbit of the daily Moonship. Although much father away and much less dramatic than the nearby jump of the ring train it was this that he had come to see. Ring trains were all right, but spaceships were his love—even a dinky like the moon shuttle.

But he had just found his place, a description of the intelligent but phlegmatic crustaceans of Epsilon Ceti IV, when he was interrupted by a call behind him. “Oh, Maxie! Maximilian! Max… mil… yan!”

He held still and said nothing.

“Max! I can see you, Max—you come at once, hear me?”

He muttered to himself and got to his feet. He moved slowly down the path, watching the sky over his shoulder until the barn cut off his view. Maw was back and that was that—she’d make his life miserable if he didn’t come in and help. When she had left that morning he had had the impression that she would be gone overnight—not that she had said so; she never did—but he had learned to read the signs. Now he would have to listen to her complaints and her petty gossip when he wanted to read, or just as bad, be disturbed by the slobbering stereovision serials she favored. He had often been tempted to sabotage the pesky SV set—by rights with an ax! He hardly ever got to see the programs he liked.

When he got in sight of the house he stopped suddenly. He had supposed that Maw had ridden the bus from the Corners and walked up the draw as usual. But there was a sporty little unicycle standing near the stoop—and there was someone with her.

He had thought at first it was a “foreigner”—but when he got closer he recognized the man. Max would rather have seen a foreigner, any foreigner. Biff Montgomery was a hillman but he didn’t work a farm; Max couldn’t remember having seen him do any honest work. He had heard it said that Montgomery sometimes hired out as a guard when one of the moonshine stills back in the hills was operating and it might be so—Montgomery was a big, beefy man and the part might fit him.

Max had known Montgomery as long as he could remember, seen him loafing around Clyde’s Corners. But he had ordinarily given him “wagon room” and had had nothing to do with him—until lately: Maw had started being seen with him, even gone to barn dances and huskings with him. Max had tried to tell her that Dad wouldn’t have liked it. But you couldn’t argue with Maw—what she didn’t like she just didn’t hear.

But this was the first time she had ever brought him to the house. Max felt a slow burn of anger starting in

him.

“Hurry up, Maxie!” Maw called out. “Don’t stand there like a dummy.” Max reluctantly moved along and joined them. Maw said, “Maxie, shake hands with your new father,” then looked roguish, as if she had said something witty. Max stared and his mouth sagged open.

Montgomery grinned and stuck out a hand. “Yep, Max, you’re Max Montgomery now—I’m your new pop. But you can call me Monty.”

Max stared at the hand, took it briefly. “My name is Jones,” he said flatly. “Maxie!” protested Maw.

Montgomery laughed jovially. “Don’t rush him, Nellie my love. Let Max get used to it. Live and let live; that’s my motto.” He turned to his wife. “Half a mo’, while I get the baggage.” From one saddlebag of the unicycle he extracted a wad of mussed clothing; from the other, two flat pint bottles. Seeing Max watching him he winked and said, “A toast for the bride.”

His bride was standing by the door; he started to brush on past her. She protested, “But Monty darling, aren’t you going to—”

Montgomery stopped. “Oh. I haven’t much experience in these things. Sure.” He turned to Max—”Here, take the baggage”—and shoved bottles and clothes at him. Then he swung her up in his arms, grunting a bit, and carried her over the threshold, put her down and kissed her while she squealed and blushed.

Max silently followed them, put the items on the table and turned to the stove. It was cold, he had not used it since breakfast. There was an electric range but it had burned out before his father had died and there had never been money to repair it. He took out his pocket knife, made shavings, added kindling and touched the heap with an Everlite. When it flared up he went out to fetch a pail of water.

When he came back Montgomery said, “Wondered where you’d gone. Doesn’t this dump even have running water?”

“No.” Max set the pail down, then added a couple of chunks of cord wood to the fire. His Maw said, “Maxie, you should have had dinner ready.”

Montgomery interceded pleasantly with, “Now, my dear, he didn’t know we were coming. And it leaves time for a toast.” Max kept his back to them, giving his full attention to slicing side meat. The change was so overwhelming that he had not had time to take it in.

Montgomery called to him. “Here, son! Drink your toast to the bride.” “I’ve got to get supper.”

“Nonsense! Here’s your glass. Hurry up.”

Montgomery had poured a finger of amber liquid into the glass; his own glass was half full and that of his bride at least a third. Max accepted it and went to the pail, thinned it with a dipper of water.

“You’ll ruin it.”

“I’m not used to it.”

“Oh, well. Here’s to the blushing bride—and our happy family! Bottoms up!”

Max took a cautious sip and put it down. It tasted to him like the bitter tonic the district nurse had given him one spring. He turned back to his work, only to be interrupted again. “Hey, you didn’t finish it.”

“Look, I got to cook. You don’t want me to burn supper, do you?”

Montgomery shrugged. “Oh, well—the more for the rest of us. We’ll use yours for a chaser. Sonny boy, when I was your age I could empty a tumbler neat and then stand on my hands.”

Max had intended to sup on side meat and warmed-over biscuits, but there was only half a pan left of the biscuits. He scrambled eggs in the grease of the side meat, brewed coffee, and let it go at that. When they sat down Montgomery looked at it and announced, “My dear, starting tomorrow I’ll expect you to live up to what you told me about your cooking. Your boy isn’t much of a cook.” Nevertheless he ate heartily. Max decided not to tell him that he was a better cook than Maw—he’d find out soon enough.

Presently Montgomery sat back and wiped his mouth, then poured himself more coffee and lighted a cigar. Maw said, “Maxie, dear, what’s the dessert?”

“Dessert? Well—there’s that ice cream in the freezer, left over from Solar Union Day.” She looked vexed. “Oh, dear! I’m afraid it’s not there.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I’m afraid I sort of ate it one afternoon when you were out in the south field. It was an awfully hot day.”

Max did not say anything, he was unsurprised. But she was not content to leave it. “You didn’t fix any dessert, Max? But this is a special occasion.”

Montgomery took his cigar out of his mouth. “Stow it, my dear,” he said kindly. “I’m not much for sweets, I’m a meat-and-potatoes man—sticks to the ribs. Let’s talk of pleasanter things.” He turned to Max. “Max, what can you do besides farm?”

Max was startled. “Huh? I’ve never done anything else. Why?”

Montgomery touched the ash of the cigar to his plate. “Because you are all through farming.”

For the second time in two hours Max had more change than he could grasp. “Why? What do you mean?”

“Because we’ve sold the farm.”

Max felt as if he had had a rug jerked out from under him. But he could tell from Maw’s face that it was true. She looked the way she always did when she had put one over on him—triumphant and slightly apprehensive.

“Dad wouldn’t like that,” he said to her harshly. “This land has been in our family for four hundred years.”

“Now, Maxie! I’ve told you I don’t know how many times that I wasn’t cut out for a farm. I was city raised.”

“Clyde’s Corners! Some city!”

“It wasn’t a farm. And I was just a young girl when your father brought me here—you were already a big boy. I’ve still got my life before me. I can’t live it buried on a farm.”

Max raised his voice. “But you promised Dad you’d…”

“Stow it,” Montgomery said firmly. “And keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to your mother—and to me.”

Max shut up.

“The land is sold and that’s that. How much do you figure this parcel is worth?” “Why, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Whatever you thought, I got more.” He gave Max a wink. “Yes, sir! It was a lucky day for your mother and you when she set her cap for me. I’m a man with his ear to the ground. I knew why an agent was around buying up these worn-out, worthless pieces of property. I…”

“I use government fertilizers.”

“Worthless I said and worthless I meant. For farming, that is.” He put his finger along his nose, looked sly, and explained. It seemed that some big government power project was afoot for which this area had been selected—Montgomery was mysterious about it, from which Max concluded that he didn’t know very much. A syndicate was quietly buying up land in anticipation of government purchase. “So we held ’em up for five times what they expected to pay. Pretty good, huh?”

Maw put in, “You see, Maxie? If your father had known that we would ever get…” “Quiet, Nellie!”

“But I was just going to tell him how much…” “‘Quiet!’ I said.”

She shut up. Montgomery pushed his chair back, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and got up. Max put water on to heat for the dishes, scraped the plates and took the leavings out to the chickens. He stayed out quite a spell, looking at the stars and trying to think. The idea of having Biff Montgomery in the family shook him to his bones. He wondered just what rights a stepfather had, or, rather a step-stepfather, a man who had married his stepmother. He didn’t know.

Presently he decided that he had to go back inside, much as he hated to. He found Montgomery standing at the bookshelf he had built over the stereo receiver; the man was pawing at the books and had piled several on the receiver. He looked around. “You back? Stick around, I want you to tell me about the live stock.”

Maw appeared in the doorway. “Darling,” she said to Montgomery, “can’t that wait till morning?”

“Don’t be in a hurry, my dear,” he answered. “That auctioneer fellow will be here early. I’ve got to have the inventory ready.” He continued to pull books down. “Say, these are pretty things.” He held in his hands half a dozen volumes, printed on the finest of thin paper and bound in limp plastic. “I wonder what they’re worth? Nellie, hand me my specs.”

Max advanced hastily, reached for them. “Those are mine!”

“Huh?” Montgomery glanced at him, then held the books high in the air. “You’re too young to own anything. No, everything goes. A clean sweep and a fresh start.”

“They’re mine! My uncle gave them to me.” He appealed to his mother. “Tell him, Maw.”

Montgomery said quietly, “Yes, Nellie, set this youngster straight—before I have to correct him.” Nellie looked worried. “Well, I don’t rightly know. They did belong to Chet.”

“And Chet was your brother? Then you’re Chet’s heir, not this young cub.” “He wasn’t her brother, he was her brother-in-law!”

“So? No matter. Your father was your uncle’s heir, then, and your mother is your father’s heir. Not you, you’re a minor. That’s the law, son. Sorry.” He put the books on the shelf but remained standing in front of them.

Max felt his right upper lip begin to twitch uncontrollably; he knew that he would not be able to talk coherently. His eyes filled with tears of rage so that he could hardly see. “You… you thief!”

Nellie let out a squawk. “Max!”

Montgomery’s face became coldly malignant. “Now you’ve gone too far. I’m afraid you’ve earned a taste of the strap.” His fingers started unbuckling his heavy belt.

Max took a step backward. Montgomery got the belt loose and took a step forward. Nellie squealed, “Monty! Please!”

“Keep out of this, Nellie.” To Max he said, “We might as well get it settled once and for all who is boss around here. Apologize!”

Max did not answer. Montgomery repeated, “Apologize, and we’ll say no more about it.” He twitched the belt like a cat lashing its tail. Max took another step back; Montgomery stepped forward and grabbed at him.

Max ducked and ran out the open door into darkness. He did not stop until he was sure that Montgomery was not following. Then he caught his breath, still raging. He was almost sorry that Montgomery had not chased him; he didn’t think that anyone could match him on his home grounds in the dark. He knew where the wood pile was; Montgomery didn’t. He knew where the hog wallow was.

Yes, he knew where the well was—even that.

It was a long time before he quieted down enough to think rationally. When he did, he was glad it had ended so easily, Montgomery outweighed him a lot and was reputed to be a mean one in a fight.

If it had ended, he corrected. He wondered if Montgomery would decide to forget it by morning. The light was still on in the living room; he took shelter in the barn and waited, sitting down on the dirt floor and leaning against the planks. After a while he felt terribly tired. He considered sleeping in the barn but there was no fit place to lie down, even though the old mule was dead. Instead he got up and looked at the house.

The light was out in the living room, but he could see a light in the bedroom; they were still awake, surely. Someone had closed the outer door after his flight; it did not lock so there was no difficulty getting in, but he was afraid that Montgomery might hear him. His own room was a shed added at the kitchen end of the main room, opposite the bedroom, but it had no outside door.

No matter—he had solved that problem when he had first grown old enough to wish to get in and out at night without consulting his elders. He crept around the house, found the saw horse, placed it under his window, got on and wiggled loose the nail that held the window. A moment later he stepped silently down into his own room. The door to the main part of the house was closed but he decided not to risk

switching on the light; Montgomery might take it into his head to come out into the living room and see a crack of light under his door. He slipped quietly out of his clothes and crawled into his cot.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Once he began to feel that warm drowsiness, then some tiny noise had brought him wide, stiff awake. Probably just a mouse—but for an instant he had thought that Montgomery was standing over his bed. With his heart pounding, he sat up on the edge of his cot, still in his skin.

Presently he faced up to the problem of what he was to do—not just for the next hour, not just tomorrow morning, but the following morning and all the mornings after that. Montgomery alone presented no problem; he would not voluntarily stay in the same county with the man. But how about Maw?

His father had told him, when he had known that he was dying, “Take care of your mother, son.” Well, he had done so. He had made a crop every year—food in the house and a little money, even if things had been close. When the mule died, he had made do, borrowing McAllister’s team and working it out in labor.

But had Dad meant that he had to take care of his stepmother even if she remarried? It had never occurred to him to consider it. Dad had told him to look out for her and he had done so, even though it had put a stop to school and did not seem to have any end to it.

But she was no longer Mrs. Jones but Mrs. Montgomery. Had Dad meant for him to support Mrs. Montgomery?

Of course not! When a woman married, her husband supported her. Everybody knew that. And Dad wouldn’t expect him to put up with Montgomery. He stood up, his mind suddenly made up.

The only question was what to take with him.

There was little to take. Groping in the dark he found the rucksack he used for hunting hikes and stuffed into it his other shirt and his socks. He added Uncle Chet’s circular astrogation slide rule and the piece of volcanic glass his uncle had brought back for him from the Moon. His citizen’s identification card, his toothbrush, and his father’s razor—not that he needed that very often—about completed the plunder.

There was a loose board back of his cot. He felt for it, pulled it out and groped between the studs—found nothing. He had been hiding a little money from time to time against a rainy day, as Maw couldn’t or wouldn’t save. But apparently she had found it on one of her snooping tours. Well, he still had to leave; it just made it a little more difficult.

He took a deep breath. There was something he must get… Uncle Chet’s books… and they were still (presumably) on the shelf against the wall common with the bedroom. But he had to get them, even at the risk of meeting Montgomery.

Cautiously, most slowly, he opened the door into the living room, stood there with sweat pouring down him. There was still a crack of light under the bedroom door and he hesitated, almost unable to force himself to go on. He heard Montgomery muttering something and Maw giggle.

As his eyes adjusted he could see by the faint light leaking out under the bedroom door something piled at the outer door. It was a deadfall alarm of pots and pans, sure to make a dreadful clatter if the door were opened. Apparently Montgomery had counted on him coming back and expected to be ready to take care of him. He was very glad that he had sneaked in the window.

No use putting it off—he crept across the floor, mindful of the squeaky board near the table. He could not see but he could feel and the volumes were known to his fingers. Carefully he slid them out, being

sure not to knock over the others.

He was all the way back to his own door when he remembered the library book. He stopped in sudden panic.

He couldn’t go back. They might hear him this time—or Montgomery might get up for a drink of water or something.

But in his limited horizon, the theft of a public library book—or failure to return it, which was the same thing—was, if not a mortal sin, at least high on the list of shameful crimes. He stood there, sweating and thinking about it.

Then he went back, the whole long trek, around the squeaky board and tragically onto one he had not remembered. He froze after he hit it, but apparently it had not alarmed the couple in the room beyond. At last he was leaning over the SV receiver and groping at the shelf.

Montgomery, in pawing the books, had changed their arrangement. One after another he had to take them down and try to identify it by touch, opening each and feeling for the perforations on the title page.

It was the fourth one he handled. He got back to his room hurrying slowly, unbearably anxious but afraid to move fast. There at last, he began to shake and had to wait until it wore off. He didn’t chance closing his door but got into his clothes in the dark. Moments later he crept through his window, found the saw horse with his toe, and stepped quietly to the ground.

His shoes were stuffed on top of the books in his rucksack; he decided to leave them there until he was well clear of the house, rather than chance the noise he might make with his feet shod. He swung wide around the house and looked back. The bedroom light was still on; he started to angle down toward the road when he noticed Montgomery’s unicycle. He stopped.

If he continued he would come to the road the bus passed along. Whether he turned right or left there, Montgomery would have a fifty-fifty chance of catching him on the unicycle. Having no money he was dependent on Shank’s ponies to put distance under him; he could not take the bus.

Shucks! Montgomery wouldn’t try to fetch him back. He would say good riddance and forget him!

But the thought fretted him. Suppose Maw urged him? Suppose Montgomery wouldn’t forget an insult and would go to any trouble to “get even”?

He headed back, still swinging wide of the house, and cut across the slopes toward the right of way of the C.S.&E.

Good Samaritan

He wished for a light, but its lack did not bother him much. He knew this country, every slope, almost every tree. He stayed high, working along the hillside, until he reached the exit ring where the trains jumped the gap, and there he came out on the road used by the ring road’s maintenance crews. He sat down and put on his shoes.

The maintenance road was no more than a track cut through trees; it was suited to tractor treads but not

to wheels. But it led down across the gap and up to where the ring road disappeared in the tunnel through the far ridge. He followed it, making good time in the born mountaineer’s easy, loose-jointed walk.

Seventy minutes later he was across the gap and passing under the entrance ring. He went on until he was near the ring that marked the black entrance to the tunnel. He stopped at what he judged to be a safe distance and considered his chances.

The ridge was high, else the rings would have been built in a cut rather than a tunnel. He had often hunted on it and knew that it would take two hours to climb it—in daylight. But the maintenance road ran right through the hill, under the rings. If he followed it, he could go through in ten or fifteen minutes.

Max had never been through the ridge. Legally it was trespass—not that that bothered him, he was trespassing now. Occasionally a hog or a wild animal would wander into the tunnel and be trapped there when a train hurtled through. They died, instantly and without a scratch. Once Max had spotted the carcass of a fox just inside the tunnel and had ducked in and salvaged it. There were no marks on it, but when he skinned it he found that it was a mass of tiny hemorrhages. Several years earlier a man had been caught inside; the maintenance crew brought out the body.

The tunnel was larger than the rings but no larger than necessary to permit the projectile to ride ahead of its own reflected shock wave. Anything alive in the tunnel could not avoid the wave; that unbearable thunderclap, painful at a distance, was so loaded with energy as to be quick death close up.

But Max did not want to climb the ridge; he went over the evening schedule of trains in his mind. The Tomahawk was the one he had watched at sundown; the Javelin he had heard while he was hiding in the barn. The Assegai must have gone by quite a while ago though he didn’t remember hearing it; that left only the midnight Cleaver. He then looked at the sky.

Venus had set, of course, but he was surprised to see Mars still in the west. The Moon had not risen. Let’s see—full moon was last Wednesday. Surely…

The answer he got seemed wrong, so he checked himself by taking a careful eyesight of Vega and compared it with what the Big Dipper told him. Then he whistled softly—despite everything that had happened it was only ten o’clock, give or take five minutes; the stars could not be wrong. In which case the Assegai was not due for another three-quarters of an hour. Except for the faint chance of a special train he had plenty of time.

He headed into the tunnel. He had not gone fifty yards before he began to be sorry and a bit panicky; it was as dark as a sealed coffin. But the going was much easier as the bore was lined to permit smooth shockwave reflections. He had been on his way several minutes, feeling each step but hurrying, when his eyes, adjusting to complete darkness, made out a faint grey circle far ahead. He broke into a trot and then into a dead run as his fear of the place piled up.

He reached the far end with throat burned dry and heart laboring; there he plunged downhill regardless of the sudden roughening of his path as he left the tunnel and hit the maintenance track. He did not slow up until he stood under stilt supports so high that the ring above looked small. There he stood still and fought to catch his breath.

He was slammed forward and knocked off his feet.

He picked himself up groggily, eventually remembered where he was and realized that he had been knocked cold. There was blood on one cheek and his hands and elbows were raw. It was not until he noticed these that he realized what had happened; a train had passed right over him.

It had not been close enough to kill, but it had been close enough to blast him off his feet. It could not have been the Assegai; he looked again at the stars and confirmed it. No, it must have been a special—and he had beaten it out of the tunnel by about a minute.

He began to shake and it was minutes before he pulled himself together, after which he started down the maintenance road as fast as his bruised body could manage. Presently he became aware of an odd fact; the night was silent.

But night is never silent. His ears, tuned from babyhood to the sounds and signs of his hills, should have heard an endless pattern of little night noises—wind in the leaves, the scurrying of his small cousins, tree frogs, calls of insects, owls.

By brutal logic he concluded correctly that he could not hear—”deef as a post”—the shock wave had left him deaf. But there was no way to help it, so he went on; it did not occur to him to return home. At the bottom of this draw, where the stilts were nearly three hundred feet high, the maintenance road crossed a farm road. He turned down hill onto it, having accomplished his first purpose of getting into territory where Montgomery would be less likely to look for him. He was in another watershed now; although still only a few miles from home, nevertheless by going through the ridge he had put himself into a different neighborhood.

He continued downhill for a couple of hours. The road was hardly more than a cart track but it was easier than the maintenance road. Somewhere below, when the hills gave way to the valley where the “foreigners” lived, he would find the freight highway that paralleled the ring road on the route to Earthport—Earthport being his destination although he had only foggy plans as to what he would do when he got there.

The Moon was behind him now and he made good time. A rabbit hopped onto the road ahead, sat up and stared, then skittered away. Seeing it, he regretted not having brought along his squirrel gun. Sure, it was worn out and not worth much and lately it had gotten harder and harder to buy the slugs thrown by the obsolete little weapon—but rabbit in the pot right now would go mighty nice, mighty nice! He realized that he was not only weary but terribly hungry. He had just picked at his supper and it looked like he’d breakfast on his upper lip.

Shortly his attention was distracted from hunger to a ringing in his ears, a ringing that got distressingly worse. He shook his head and pounded his ears but it did not help; he had to make up his mind to ignore it. After another half mile or so he suddenly noticed that he could hear himself walking. He stopped dead, then clapped his hands together. He could hear them smack, cutting through the phantom ringing. With a lighter heart he went on.

At last he came out on a shoulder that overlooked the broad valley. In the moonlight he could make out the sweep of the freight highway leading southwest and could detect, he thought, its fluorescent traffic guide lines. He hurried on down.

He was nearing the highway and could hear the rush of passing freighters when he spotted a light ahead. He approached it cautiously, determined that it was neither vehicle nor farm house. Closer approach showed it to be a small open fire, visible from uphill but shielded from the highway by a shoulder of limestone. A man was squatting over it, stirring the contents of a can resting on rocks over the fire.

Max crept nearer until he was looking down into the hobo jungle. He got a whiff of the stew and his mouth watered. Caught between hunger and a hillman’s ingrown distrust of “foreigners” he lay still and stared. Presently the man set the can off the fire and called out, “Well, don’t hide there! Come on down.”

Max was too startled to answer. The man added, “Come on down into the light. I won’t fetch it up to

you.”

Max got to his feet and shuffled down into the circle of firelight. The man looked up. “Howdy. Draw up a chair.”

“Howdy.” Max sat down across the fire from the tramp. He was not even as well dressed as Max and he needed a shave. Nevertheless he wore his rags with a jaunty air and handled himself with a sparrow’s cockiness.

The man continued to stir the mess in the can then spooned out a sample, blew on it, and tasted it. “About right,” he announced. “Four-day mulligan, just getting ripe. Find yourself a dish.” He got up and picked over a pile of smaller cans behind him, selected one. Max hesitated, then did the same, settling on one that had once contained coffee and appeared not to have been used since. His host served him a liberal portion of stew, then handed him a spoon. Max looked at it.

“If you don’t trust the last man who used it,” the man said reasonably, “hold it in the fire, then wipe it. Me, I don’t worry. If a bug bites me, he dies horribly.” Max took the advice, holding the spoon in the flames until the handle became too hot, then wiped it on his shirt.

The stew was good and his hunger made it superlative. The gravy was thick, there were vegetables and unidentified meat. Max didn’t bother his head about the pedigrees of the materials; he simply enjoyed it. After a while his host said, “Seconds?”

“Huh? Sure. Thanks!”

The second can of stew filled him up and spread through his tissues a warm glow of well-being. He stretched lazily, enjoying his fatigue. “Feel better?” the man asked.

“Gee, yes. Thanks.”

“By the way, you can call me Sam.” “Oh, my name is Max.”

“Glad to know you, Max.”

Max waited before raising a point that had been bothering him. “Uh, Sam? How did you know I was there? Did you hear me?”

Sam grinned. “No. But you were silhouetted against the sky. Don’t ever do that, kid, or it may be the last thing you do.”

Max twisted around and looked up at where he had lurked. Sure enough, Sam was right. He’d be dogged!

Sam added, “Traveled far?” “Huh? Yeah, quite a piece.” “Going far?”

“Uh, pretty far, I guess.”

Sam waited, then said, “Think your folks’ll miss you?”

“Huh? How did you know?”

“That you had run away from home? Well, you have, haven’t you?” “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have.”

“You looked beat when you dragged in here. Maybe it’s not too late to kill the goose before your bridges are burned. Think about it, kid. It’s rough on the road. I know.”

“Go back? I won’t ever go back!” “As bad as that?”

Max stared into the fire. He needed badly to get his thoughts straight, even if it meant telling a foreigner his private affairs—and this soft-spoken stranger was easy to talk to. “See here, Sam, did you ever have a stepmother?”

“Eh? Can’t remember that I ever had any. The Central Jersey Development Center for State Children used to kiss me good night.”

“Oh.” Max blurted out his story with an occasional sympathetic question from Sam to straighten out its confusion. “So I lit out,” he concluded. “There wasn’t anything else to do. Was there?”

Sam pursed his lips. “I reckon not. This double stepfather of yours—he sounds like a mouse studying to be a rat. You’re well shut of him.”

“You don’t think they’ll try to find me and haul me back, do you?”

Sam stopped to put a piece of wood on the fire. “I am not sure about that.”

“Huh? Why not? I’m no use to him. He doesn’t like me. And Maw won’t care, not really. She may whine a bit, but she won’t turn her hand.”

“Well, there’s the farm.”

“The farm? I don’t care about that, not with Dad gone. Truthfully, it ain’t much. You break your back trying to make a crop. If the Food Conservation Act hadn’t forbidden owners to let farm land fall out of use, Dad would have quit farming long ago. It would take something like this government condemnation to make it possible to find anybody to take it off your hands.”

“That’s what I mean. This joker got your mother to sell it. Now my brand of law may not be much good, but it looks as if that money ought to come to you.”

“What? Oh, I don’t care about the money. I just want to get away from them.”

“Don’t talk that way about money; the powers-that-be will have you shut up for blasphemy. But it probably doesn’t matter how you feel, as I think Citizen Montgomery is going to want to see you awful bad.”

“Why?”

“Did your father leave a will?”

“No. Why? He didn’t have anything to leave but the farm.”

“I don’t know the ins and outs of your state laws, but it’s a sure thing that at least half of that farm belongs to you. Possibly your stepmother has only lifetime tenure in her half, with reversion to you when she dies. But it’s a certainty that she can’t grant a good deed without your signature. Along about time your county courthouse opens up tomorrow morning the buyers are going to find that out. Then they’ll come

high-tailing up, looking for her—and you. And ten minutes later this Montgomery hombre will start looking for you, if he hasn’t already.”

“Oh, me! If they find me, can they make me go back?” “Don’t let them find you. You’ve made a good start.”

Max picked up his rucksack. “I guess I had better get moving. Thanks a lot, Sam. Maybe I can help you someday.”

“Sit down.”

“Look, I had better get as far away as I can.”

“Kid, you’re tired out and your judgment has slipped. How far can you walk tonight, the shape you’re in? Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we’ll go down to the highway, follow it about a mile to the freighters’ restaurant south of here and catch the haulers as they come out from breakfast, feeling good. We’ll promote a ride and you’ll go farther in ten minutes than you could make all night.”

Max had to admit that he was tired, exhausted really, and Sam certainly knew more about these wrinkles than he did. Sam added, “Got a blanket in your bindle?”

“No. Just a shirt… and some books.”

“Books, eh? Read quite a bit myself, when I get a chance. May I see them?”

Somewhat reluctantly Max got them out. Sam held them close to the fire and examined them. “Well, I’ll be a three-eyed Martian! Kid, do you know what you’ve got here?”

“Sure.”

“But you ought not to have these. You’re not a member of the Astrogators’ Guild.” “No, but my uncle was. He was on the first trip to Beta Hydrae,” he added proudly. “No foolin’!”

“Sure as taxes.”

“But you’ve never been in space yourself? No, of course not.”

“But I’m going to be!” Max admitted something that he had never told anyone, his ambition to emulate his uncle and go out to the stars. Sam listened thoughtfully. When Max stopped, he said slowly, “So you want to be an astrogator?”

“I certainly do.”

Sam scratched his nose. “Look, kid, I don’t want to throw cold water, but you know how the world wags. Getting to be an astrogator is almost as difficult as getting into the Plumbers’ Guild. The soup is thin these days and there isn’t enough to go around. The guild won’t welcome you just because you are anxious to be apprenticed. Membership is hereditary, just like all the other high-pay guilds.”

“But my uncle was a member.” “Your uncle isn’t your father.”

“No, but a member who hasn’t any sons gets to nominate someone else. Uncle Chet explained it to me. He always told me he was going to register my nomination.”

“And did he?”

Max was silent. At the time his uncle had died he had been too young to know how to go about finding out. When his father had followed his uncle events had closed in on him—he had never checked up, subconsciously preferring to nurse the dream rather than test it. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I’m going to the Mother Chapter at Earthport and find out.”

“Hmmm—I wish you luck, kid.” He stared into the fire, sadly it seemed to Max. “Well, I’m going to grab some shut-eye, and you had better do the same. If you’re chilly, you’ll find some truck back under that rock shelf—burlap and packing materials and such. It’ll keep you warm, if you don’t mind risking a flea or two.”

Max crawled into the dark hole indicated, found a half-way cave in the limestone. Groping, he located the primitive bedding. He had expected to be wakeful, but he was asleep before Sam finished covering the fire.

He was awakened by sunlight blazing outside. He crawled out, stood up and stretched the stiffness out of his limbs. By the sun he judged it to be about seven o’clock in the morning. Sam was not in sight. He looked around and shouted, not too loudly, and guessed that Sam had gone down to the creek for a drink and a cold wash. Max went back into the shelter and hauled out his rucksack, intending to change his socks.

His uncle’s books were missing.

There was a note on top of his spare shirt: “Dear Max,” it said, “There is more stew in the can. You can warm it up for breakfast. So long—Sam P.S. Sorry.”

Further search disclosed that his identification card was missing, but Sam had not bothered with his other pitiful possessions. Max did not touch the stew but set out down the road, his mind filled with bitter thoughts.

Earthport

The farm road crossed under the freight highway; Max came up on the far side and headed south beside the highway. The route was marked by “NO TRESPASS” signs but the path was well worn. The highway widened to make room for a deceleration strip. At the end of its smooth reach, a mile away, Max could see the restaurant Sam had mentioned.

He shinnied over the fence enclosing the restaurant and parking grounds and went to the parking stalls where a dozen of the big land ships were lined up. One was quivering for departure, its flat bottom a few inches clear of the metallic pavement. Max went to its front end and looked up at the driver’s

compartment. The door was open and he could see the driver at his instrument board. Max called out, “Hey, Mister!”

The driver stuck his head out. “What’s itching you?” “How are the chances of a lift south?”

“Beat it, kid.” The door slammed.

None of the other freighters was raised off the pavement; their control compartments were empty. Max was about to turn away when another giant scooted down the braking strip, reached the parking space, crawled slowly into a stall, and settled to the ground. He considered approaching its driver, but decided to wait until the man had eaten. He went back toward the restaurant building and was looking through the door, watching hungry men demolish food while his mouth watered, when he heard a pleasant voice at his shoulder.

“Excuse me, but you’re blocking the door.” Max jumped aside. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Go ahead. You were first.” The speaker was a man about ten years older than Max. He was profusely freckled and had a one-sided grin. Max saw on his cap the pin of the Teamsters’ Guild. “Go on in,” the man repeated, “before you get trampled in the rush.”

Max had been telling himself that he might catch Sam inside—and, after all, they couldn’t charge him just for coming in, if he didn’t actually eat anything. Underlying was the thought of asking to work for a meal, if the manager looked friendly. The freckled-faced man’s urging tipped the scales; he followed his nose toward the source of the heavenly odors pouring out the door.

The restaurant was crowded; there was one vacant table, for two. The man slid into a chair and said, “Sit down.” When Max hesitated, he added, “Go ahead, put it down. Never like to eat alone.” Max could feel the manager’s eyes on him, he sat down. A waitress handed them each a menu and the hauler looked her over appreciatively. When she left he said, “This dump used to have automatic service—and it went broke. The trade went to the Tivoli, eighty miles down the stretch. Then the new owner threw away the machinery and hired girls and business picked up. Nothing makes food taste better than having a pretty girl put it in front of you. Right?”

“Uh, I guess so. Sure.” Max had not heard what was said. He had seldom been in a restaurant and then only in the lunch counter at Clyde’s Corners. The prices he read frightened him; he wanted to crawl under the table.

His companion looked at him. “What’s the trouble, chum?” “Trouble? Uh, nothing.”

“You broke?” Max’s miserable expression answered him. “Shucks, I’ve been there myself. Relax.” The man waggled his fingers at the waitress. “Come here, honey chile. My partner and I will each have a breakfast steak with a fried egg sitting on top and this and that on the side. I want that egg to be just barely dead. If it is cooked solid, I’ll nail it to the wall as a warning to others. Understand me?”

“I doubt if you’ll be able to get a nail through it,” she retorted and walked away, swaying gently. The hauler kept his eyes on her until she disappeared into the kitchen. “See what I mean? How can machinery compete?”

The steak was good and the egg was not congealed. The hauler told Max to call him “Red” and Max gave his name in exchange. Max was pursuing the last of the yolk with a bit of toast and was considering whether it was time to broach the subject of a ride when Red leaned forward and spoke softly. “Max—you got anything pushing you? Free to take a job?”

“What? Why, maybe. What is it?” “Mind taking a little run southwest?”

“Southwest? Matter of fact, I was headin’ that way.”

“Good. Here’s the deal. The Man says we have to have two teamsters to each rig—or else break for eight hours after driving eight. I can’t; I’ve got a penalty time to meet—and my partner washed out. The flathead got taken drunk and I had to put him down to cool. Now I’ve got a check point to pass a hundred thirty miles down the stretch. They’ll make me lay over if I can’t show another driver.”

“Gee! But I don’t know how to drive, Red. I’m awful sorry.”

Red gestured with his cup. “You won’t have to. You’ll always be the off-watch driver. I wouldn’t trust little Molly Malone to somebody who didn’t know her ways. I’ll keep myself awake with Pep pills and catch up on sleep at Earthport.”

“You’re going all the way to Earthport?” “Right.”

“It’s a deal!”

“Okay, here’s the lash up. Every time we hit a check point you’re in the bunk, asleep. You help me load and unload—I’ve got a partial and a pick-up at Oke City—and I’ll feed you. Right?”

“Right!”

“Then let’s go. I want to scoot before these other dust jumpers get underway. Never can tell, there might be a spotter.” Red flipped a bill down and did not wait for change.

The Molly Malone was two hundred feet long and stream lined such that she had negative lift when cruising. This came to Max’s attention from watching the instruments; when she first quivered and raised, the dial marked ROAD CLEARANCE showed nine inches, but as they gathered speed down the acceleration strip it decreased to six.

“The repulsion works by an inverse-cube law,” Red explained. “The more the wind pushes us down the harder the road pushes us up. Keeps us from jumping over the skyline. The faster we go the steadier we are.”

“Suppose you went so fast that the wind pressure forced the bottom down to the road? Could you stop soon enough to keep from wrecking it?”

“Use your head. The more we squat the harder we are pushed up—inverse-cube, I said.”

“Oh.” Max got out his uncle’s slide rule. “If she just supports her own weight at nine inches clearance, then at three inches the repulsion would be twenty-seven times her weight and at an inch it would be seven hundred and twenty-nine, and at a quarter of an inch—”

“Don’t even think about it. At top speed I can’t get her down to five inches.”

“But what makes her go?”

“It’s a phase relationship. The field crawls forward and Molly tries to catch up—only she can’t. Don’t ask me the theory, I just push the buttons.” Red struck a cigarette and lounged back, one hand on the tiller. “Better get in the bunk, kid. Check point in forty miles.”

The bunk was thwartships abaft the control compartment, a shelf above the seat. Max climbed in and wrapped a blanket around himself. Red handed him a cap. “Pull this down over your eyes. Let the button show.” The button was a teamster’s shield, Max did as he was told.

Presently he heard the sound of wind change from a soft roar to a sigh and then stop. The freighter settled to the pavement and the door opened. He lay still, unable to see what was going on. A strange voice said, “How long you been herding it?”

“Since breakfast at Tony’s.”

“So? How did your eyes get so bloodshot?” “It’s the evil life I lead. Want to see my tongue?”

The inspector ignored this, saying instead, “Your partner didn’t sign his trick.” “Whatever you say. Want me to wake the dumb geek?”

“Umm… don’t bother. You sign for him. Tell him to be more careful.” “Right.”

The Molly Malone pulled out and picked up speed. Max crawled down. “I thought we were sunk when he asked for my signature.”

“That was on purpose,” Red said scornfully. “You have to give them something to yap about, or they’ll dig for it.”

Max liked the freighter. The tremendous speed so close to the ground exhilarated him; he decided that if he could not be a spaceman, this life would not be bad—he’d find out how high the application fee was and start saving. He liked the easy way Red picked out on the pavement ahead the speed line that matched the Molly’s speed and then laid the big craft into a curve. It was usually the outermost line, with the Molly on her side and the horizon tilted up at a crazy angle.

Near Oklahoma City they swooped under the ring guides of the C.S.&E. just as a train went over—the

Razor, by Max’s calculations. “I used to herd those things,” Red remarked, glancing up. “You did?”

“Yep. But they got to worrying me. I hated it every time I made a jump and felt the weight sag out from under me. Then I got a notion that the train had a mind of its own and was just waiting to turn aside instead of entering the next guide ring. That sort of thing is no good. So I found a teamster who wanted to better himself and paid the fine to both guilds to let us swap. Never regretted it. Two hundred miles an hour when you’re close to the ground is enough.”

“Uh, how about space ships?”

“That’s another matter. Elbow room out there. Say, kid, while you’re at Earthport you should take a look at the big babies. They’re quite something.”

The library book had been burning a hole in his rucksack; at Oklahoma City he noticed a postal box at the freight depot and, on impulse, dropped the book into it. After he had mailed it he had a twinge of worry that he might have given a clue to his whereabouts which would get back to Montgomery, but he suppressed the worry—the book had to be returned. Vagrancy in the eyes of the law had not worried him, nor trespass, nor impersonating a licensed teamster—but filching a book was a sin.

Max was asleep in the bunk when they arrived. Red shook him. “End of the line, kid.” Max sat up, yawning. “Where are we?”

“Earthport. Let’s shake a leg and get this baby unloaded.”

It was two hours past sunrise and growing desert hot by the time they got the Molly disgorged. Red stood him to a last meal. Red finished first, paid, then laid a bill down by Max’s plate. “Thanks, kid. That’s for luck. So long.” He was gone while Max still had his mouth hanging open. He had never learned his friend’s name, did not even know his shield number.

Earthport was much the biggest settlement Max had ever seen and everything about it confused him—the hurrying self-centered crowds, the enormous buildings, the slidewalks in place of streets, the noise, the desert sun beating down, the flatness—why, there wasn’t anything you could call a hill closer than the skyline!

He saw his first extra-terrestrial, an eight-foot native of Epsilon Gemini V, striding out of a shop with a package under his left arms—as casually, Max thought, as a farmer doing his week’s shopping at the Corners. Max stared. He knew what the creature was from pictures and SV shows, but seeing one was another matter. Its multiple eyes, like a wreath of yellow grapes around the head, gave it a grotesque faceless appearance. Max let his own head swivel to follow it.

The creature approached a policeman, tapped the top of his cap, and said, “Excuse me, sahr, but can you tirect me to the Tesert Palms Athletic Club?” Max could not tell where the noise came out.

Max finally noticed that he seemed to be the only one staring, so he walked slowly on, while sneaking looks over his shoulder—which resulted in his bumping into a stranger. “Oh, excuse me!” Max blurted. The stranger looked at him. “Take it easy, cousin. You’re in the big city now.” After that he tried to be careful.

He had intended to seek out the Guild Hall of the Mother Chapter of Astrogators at once in the forlorn hope that even without his books and identification card he might still identify himself and find that Uncle Chet had provided for his future. But there was so much to see that he loitered. He found himself presently in front of Imperial House, the hotel that guaranteed to supply any combination of pressure, temperature, lighting, atmosphere, pseudogravitation, and diet favored by any known race of intelligent creatures. He hung around hoping to see some of the guests, but the only one who came out while he was there was wheeled out in a pressurized travel tank and he could not see into it.

He noticed the police guard at the door eyeing him and started to move on—then decided to ask directions, reasoning that if it was all right for a Geminian to question a policeman it certainly must be all right for a human being. He found himself quoting the extra-terrestrial. “Excuse me, sir, but could you direct me to the Astrogators’ Guild Hall?”

The officer looked him over. “At the foot of the Avenue of Planets, just before you reach the port.” “Uh, which way do…”

“New in town?” “Yeah. Yes, sir.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Staying? Why, nowhere yet. I just got here. I…” “What’s your business at the Astrogators’ Hall?”

“It’s on account of my uncle,” Max answered miserably. “Your uncle?”

“He… he’s an astrogator.” He mentally crossed his fingers over the tense.

The policeman inspected again. “Take this slide to the next intersection, change and slide west. Big building with the guild sunburst over the door—can’t miss it. Stay out of restricted areas.” Max left without waiting to find out how he was to know a restricted area. The Guild Hall did prove easy to find; the slidewalk to the west ducked underground and when it emerged at its swing-around Max was deposited in front of it.

But he had not eyes for it. To the west where avenue and buildings ended was the field and on it space ships, stretching away for miles—fast little military darts, stubby Moon shuttles, winged ships that served the satellite stations, robot freighters, graceless and powerful. But directly in front of the gate hardly half a mile away was a great ship that he knew at once, the starship Asgard. He knew her history, Uncle Chet had served in her. A hundred years earlier she had been built out in space as a space-to-space rocket ship; she was then the Prince of Wales. Years passed, her tubes were ripped out and a mass-conversion torch was kindled in her; she became the Einstein. More years passed, for nearly twenty she swung empty around Luna, a lifeless, outmoded hulk. Now in place of the torch she had Horst-Conrad impellers that clutched at the fabric of space itself; thanks to them she was now able to touch Mother Terra. To commemorate her rebirth she had been dubbed Asgard, heavenly home of the gods.

Her massive, pear-shaped body was poised on its smaller end, steadied by an invisible scaffolding of thrust beams. Max knew where they must be, for there was a ring of barricades spotted around her to keep the careless from wandering into the deadly loci.

He pressed his nose against the gate to the field and tried to see more of her, until a voice called out, “Away from there, Jack! Don’t you see that sign?”

Max looked up. Above his head was a sign: RESTRICTED AREA. Reluctantly he moved away and walked back to the Guild Hall.

THE ASTROGATORS’ GUILD

Everything about the hall of the Mother Chapter was to Max’s eyes lavish, churchlike, and frightening. The great doors opened silently as he approached, dilating away into the walls. His feet made no sound on the tesselated floor. He started down the long, high foyer, wondering where he should go, when a firm voice stopped him. “May I help you, please?”

He turned. A beautiful young lady with a severe manner held him with her eye. She was seated behind a desk. Max went up to her. “Uh, maybe you could tell me, Ma’am, who I ought to see. I don’t rightly know just…”

“One moment. Your name, please?” Several minutes later she had wormed out of him the basic facts of his quest. “So far as I can see, you haven’t any status here and no excuse for appealing to the Guild.”

“But I told you…”

“Never mind. I’m going to put it up to the legal office.” She touched a button and a screen raised up on her desk; she spoke to it. “Mr. Hanson, can you spare a moment?”

“Yes, Grace?”

“There is a young man here who claims to be a legacy of the Guild. Will you talk with him?”

The voice answered, “Look, Grace, you know the procedures. Get his address, send him on his way, and send his papers up for consideration.”

She frowned and touched another control. Although Max could see that she continued to talk, no sound reached him. Then she nodded and the screen slid back into the desk. She touched another button and said, “Skeeter!”

A page boy popped out of a door behind her and looked Max over with cold eyes. “Skeeter,” she went on, “take this visitor to Mr. Hanson.”

The page sniffed. “Him?”

“Him. And fasten your collar and spit out that gum.”

Mr. Hanson listened to Max’s story and passed him on to his boss, the chief legal counsel, who listened to a third telling. That official then drummed his desk and made a call, using the silencing device the girl had used.

He then said to Max, “You’re in luck, son. The Most Worthy High Secretary will grant you a few minutes of his time. Now when you go in, don’t sit down, remember to speak only when spoken to, and get out quickly when he indicates that the audience is ended.”

The High Secretary’s office made the lavishness that had thus far filled Max’s eyes seem like austerity. The rug alone could have been swapped for the farm on which Max grew up. There was no communication equipment in evidence, no files, not even a desk. The High Secretary lounged back in a mammoth easy chair while a servant massaged his scalp. He raised his head as Max appeared and said, “Come in, son. Sit down there. What is your name?”

“Maximilian Jones, sir.”

They looked at each other. The Secretary saw a lanky youth who needed a haircut, a bath, and a change of clothes; Max saw a short, fat little man in a wrinkled uniform. His head seemed too big for him and Max could not make up his mind whether the eyes were kindly or cold.

“And you are a nephew of Chester Arthur Jones?” “Yes, sir.”

“I knew Brother Jones well. A fine mathematician.” The High Secretary went on, “I understand that you

have had the misfortune to lose your government Citizen’s Identification. Carl.”

He had not raised his voice but a young man appeared with the speed of a genie. “Yes, sir?”

“Take this young man’s thumb print, call the Bureau of Identification—not here, but the main office at New Washington. My compliments to the Chief of Bureau and tell him that I would be pleased to have immediate identification while you hold the circuit.”

The print was taken speedily; the man called Carl left. The High Secretary went on, “What was your purpose in coming here?” Diffidently Max explained that his uncle had told him that he intended to nominate him for apprenticeship in the guild.

The man nodded. “So I understand. I am sorry to tell you, young fellow, that Brother Jones made no nomination.”

Max had difficulty in taking in the simple statement. So much was his inner pride tied to his pride in his uncle’s profession, so much had he depended on his hope that his uncle had named him his professional heir, that he could not accept at once the verdict that he was nobody and nothing. He blurted out, “You’re sure? Did you look?”

The masseur looked shocked but the High Secretary answered calmly, “The archives have been searched, not once, but twice. There is no possible doubt.” The High Secretary sat up, gestured slightly, and the servant disappeared. “I’m sorry.”

“But he told me,” Max said stubbornly. “He said he was going to.”

“Nevertheless he did not.” The man who had taken the thumb print came in and offered a memorandum to the High Secretary, who glanced at it and waved it away. “I’ve no doubt that he considered you.

Nomination to our brotherhood involves a grave responsibility; it is not unusual for a childless brother to have his eye on a likely lad for a long time before deciding whether or not he measures up. For some reason your uncle did not name you.”

Max was appalled by the humiliating theory that his beloved uncle might have found him unworthy. It could not be true—why, just the day before he died, he had said—he interrupted his thoughts to say, “Sir—I think I know what happened.”

“Eh?”

“Uncle Chester died suddenly. He meant to name me, but he didn’t get a chance. I’m sure of it.”

“Possibly. Men have been known to fail to get their affairs in order before the last orbit. But I must assume that he knew what he was doing.”

“But—”

“That’s all, young man. No, don’t go away. I’ve been thinking about you today.” Max looked startled, the High Secretary smiled and continued, “You see, you are the second ‘Maximilian Jones’ who has come to us with this story.”

“Huh?”

“Huh indeed.” The guild executive reached into a pocket of his chair, pulled out some books and a card, handed them to Max, who stared unbelievingly.

“Uncle Chet’s books!”

“Yes. Another man, older than yourself, came here yesterday with your identification card and these books. He was less ambitious than you are,” he added dryly. “He was willing to settle for a rating less lofty than astrogator.”

“What happened?”

“He left suddenly when we attempted to take his finger prints. I did not see him. But when you showed up today I began to wonder how long a procession of ‘Maximilian Jones’s’ would favor us. Better guard that card in the future—I fancy we have saved you a fine.”

Max placed it in an inner pocket. “Thanks a lot, sir.” He started to put the books in his rucksack. The High Secretary gestured in denial.

“No, no! Return the books, please.” “But Uncle Chet gave them to me.”

“Sorry. At most he loaned them to you—and he should not have done even that. The tools of our profession are never owned individually; they are loaned to each brother. Your uncle should have turned them in when he retired, but some of the brothers have a sentimental fondness for having them in their possession. Give them to me, please.”

Max still hesitated. “Come now,” the guildsman said reasonably. “It would not do for our professional secrets to be floating around loose, available to anyone. Even the hairdressers do not permit that. We have a high responsibility to the public. Only a member of this guild, trained, tested, sworn, and accepted, may lawfully be custodian of those manuals.”

Max’s answer was barely audible. “I don’t see the harm. I’m not going to get to use them, it looks like.”

“You don’t believe in anarchy, surely? Our whole society is founded on entrusting grave secrets only to those who are worthy. But don’t feel sad. Each brother, when he is issued his tools, deposits an earnest with the bursar. In my opinion, since you are the nearest relative of Brother Jones, we may properly repay the earnest to you for their return. Carl.”

The young man appeared again. “The deposit monies, please.” Carl had the money with him—he seemed to earn his living by knowing what the High Secretary was about to want. Max found himself accepting an impressive sheaf of money, more than he had ever touched before, and the books were taken from him before he could think of another objection.

It seemed time to leave, but he was motioned back to his chair. “Personally, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am merely the servant of my brothers; I have no choice. However… ” The High Secretary fitted his finger tips together. “Our brotherhood takes care of its own. There are funds at my disposal for such cases. How would you like to go into training?”

“For the Guild?”

“No, no! We don’t grant brotherhood as charity. But for some respectable trade, metalsmith, or chef, or tailor—what you wish. Any occupation not hereditary. The brotherhood will sponsor you, pay your ‘prentice fee and, if you make good, lend you your contribution when you are sworn in.”

Max knew he should accept gratefully. He was being offered an opportunity free that most of the swarming masses never got on any terms. But the cross-grained quirk in him that had caused him to

spurn the stew that Sam had left behind made this generous offer stick in his craw. “Thanks just the same,” he answered in tones almost surly, “but I don’t rightly think I can take it.”

The High Secretary looked bleak. “So? It’s your life.” He snapped his fingers, a page appeared, and Max was led quickly out of the Hall.

He stood on the steps of the Guild Hall and wondered dejectedly what he should do next. Even the space ships on the field at the foot of the street did not attract; he could not have looked at one without feeling like crying. He looked to the east instead.

A short distance away a jaunty figure leaned against a trash receptacle. As Max’s eyes rested on the man he straightened up, flipped a cigarette to the pavement, and started toward him.

Max looked at him again. “Sam!” It was undoubtedly the wayfarer who had robbed him—well dressed, clean shaved—but Sam nonetheless. Max hurried toward him.

“Howdy, Max,” Sam greeted him with an unembarrassed grin, “how did you make out?” “I ought to have you arrested!”

“Now, now—keep your voice down. You’re making yourself conspicuous.” Max took a breath and lowered his voice. “You stole my books.”

“Your books? They weren’t yours—and I returned them to their owners. You want to arrest me for that?”

“But you… Well, anyhow you…”

A voice, civil, firm, and official, spoke at Max’s elbow. “Is this person annoying you, sir?” Max turned and found a policeman standing behind him. He started to speak, then bit off the words as he realized the question had been addressed to Sam.

Sam took hold of Max’s upper arm in a gesture that was protective and paternal, but quite firm. “Not at all, officer, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I received word that this chico was headed this way and I’ve had my eye on him.” “He’s a friend of mine. I was waiting for him here.”

“As you say. We have a lot of trouble with vagrants. They all seem to head for Earthport.”

“He’s not a vagrant. He’s a young friend of mine from the country and I’m afraid he’s gotten a bit confused. I’ll be responsible.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Not at all.” Max let himself be led away. When they were out of earshot Sam said, “That was close. That nosy clown would have had us both in the bull pen. You did all right, kid—kept your lip zipped at the right time.”

They were around the corner into a less important street before Sam let go his grip. He stopped and faced Max, grinning. “Well, kid?”

“I should a’ told that cop about you!”

“Why didn’t you? He was right there.”

Max found himself caught by contradictory feelings. He was angry with Sam, no doubt about it, but his first unstudied reaction at seeing him had been the warm pleasure one gets from recognizing a familiar face among strangers—the anger had come a split second later. Now Sam looked at him with easy cynicism, a quizzical smile on his face. “Well, kid?” he repeated. “If you want to turn me in, let’s go back and get it over with. I won’t run.”

Max looked back at him peevishly. “Oh, forget it!” “Thanks. I’m sorry about it, kid. I really am.” “Then why did you do it?”

Sam’s face changed suddenly to a sad, far-away look, then resumed its cheerful cynicism. “I was tempted by an idea, old son—every man has his limits. Some day I’ll tell you. Now, how about a bit to eat and a gab? There’s a joint near here where we can talk without having the nosies leaning over our shoulders.”

“I don’t know as I want to.”

“Oh, come now! The food isn’t much but it’s better than mulligan.”

Max had been ready with a stiff speech about how he would not turn Sam in, but he certainly did not want to eat with him; the mention of mulligan brought him up short. He remembered uneasily that Sam had not inquired as to his morals, but had shared his food.

“Well… okay.”

“That’s my boy!” They went on down the street. The neighborhood was a sort to be found near the port in any port city; once off the pompous Avenue of the Planets it became more crowded, noisier, more alive, and somehow warmer and more friendly despite a strong air of “keep your hand on your purse.” Hole-in-the-wall tailor shops, little restaurants none too clean, cheap hotels, honky-tonks, fun arcades, exhibits both “educational” and “scientific,” street vendors, small theaters with gaudy posters and sounds of music leaking out, shops fronting for betting parlors, tattoo parlors fronting for astrologers, and the inevitable Salvation Army mission gave the street flavor its stylish cousins lacked. Martians in trefoil sunglasses and respirators, humanoids from Beta Corvi III, things with exoskeletons from Allah knew where, all jostled with humans of all shades and all blended in easy camaraderie.

Sam stopped at a shop with the age-old symbol of three golden spheres. “Wait here. Be right out.” Max waited and watched the throng. Sam came out shortly without his coat. “Now we eat.” “Sam! Did you pawn your coat?”

“Give the man a cigar! How did you guess?”

“But… Look, I didn’t know you were broke; you looked prosperous. Get it back, I’ll… I’ll pay for our lunch.”

“Say, that’s sweet of you, kid. But forget it. I don’t need a coat this weather. Truth is, I was dressed up just to make a good impression at—well, a little matter of business.”

Max blurted out, “But how did you… “, then shut up. Sam grinned. “Did I steal the fancy rags? No. I encountered a citizen who believed in percentages and engaged him in a friendly game. Never bet on

percentages, kid; skill is more fundamental. Here we are.”

The room facing the street was a bar, beyond was a restaurant. Sam led him on through the restaurant, through the kitchen, down a passage off which there were card rooms, and ended in a smaller, less pretentious dining room; Sam picked a table in a corner. An enormous Samoan shuffled up, dragging one leg. Sam nodded, “Howdy, Percy.” He turned to Max. “A drink first?”

“Uh, I guess not.”

“Smart lad. Lay off the stuff. Irish for me, Percy, and we’ll both have whatever you had for lunch.” The Samoan waited silently. Sam shrugged and laid money on the table, Percy scooped it up.

Max objected, “But I was going to pay.”

“You can pay for the lunch. Percy owns the place,” he added. “He’s offensively rich, but he didn’t get that way by trusting the likes of me. Now tell me about yourself, old son. How you got here? How you made out with the astrogators… everything. Did they kill the fatted calf?”

“Well, no.” There seemed to be no reason not to tell Sam and he found that he wanted to talk. Sam nodded at the end.

“About what I had guessed. Any plans now?” “No. I don’t know what to do now, Sam.”

“Hmm… it’s an ill wind that has no turning. Eat your lunch and let me think.” Later he added, “Max, what do you want to do?”

“Well… I wanted to be an astrogator…” “That’s out.”

“I know.”

“Tell me, did you want to be an astrogator and nothing else, or did you simply want to go into space?” “Why, I guess I never thought about it any other way.”

“Well, think about it.”

Max did so. “I want to space. If I can’t go as an astrogator, I want to go anyhow. But I don’t see how. The Astrogators’ Guild is the only one I stood a chance for.”

“There are ways.”

“Huh? Do you mean put in for emigration?”

Sam shook his head. “It costs more than you could save to go to one of the desirable colonies—and the ones they give you free rides to I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Sam hesitated. “There are ways to wangle it, old son—if you do what I say. This uncle of yours—you were around him a lot?”

“Why, sure.”

“Talked about space with you?” “Certainly. That’s all we talked about.”

“Hmm… how well do you know the patter?”

“…YOUR MONEY AND MY KNOW-HOW… “

“The patter?” Max looked puzzled. “I suppose I know what everybody knows.” “Where’s the worry hole?”

“Huh? That’s the control room.”

“If the cheater wants a corpse, where does he find it?”

Max looked amused. “That’s just stuff from SV serials, nobody talks like that aboard ship. The cook is the cook, and if he wanted a side of beef, he’d go to the reefer for it.”

“How do you tell a ‘beast’ from an animal?”

“Why, a ‘beast’ is a passenger, but an animal is just an animal, I guess.”

“Suppose you were on a ship for Mars and they announced that the power plant had gone blooie and the ship was going to spiral into the Sun? What would you think?”

“I’d think somebody was trying to scare me. In the first place, you wouldn’t be ‘on’ a ship—’in’ is the right word. Second, a spiral isn’t one of the possible orbits. And third, if a ship was headed for Mars from Earth, it couldn’t fall into the Sun; the orbit would be incompatible.”

“Suppose you were part of a ship’s crew in a strange port and you wanted to go out and look the place over. How would you go about asking the captain for permission?”

“Why, I wouldn’t.” “You’d just jump ship?”

“Let me finish. If I wanted to hit dirt, I’d ask the first officer; the captain doesn’t bother with such things. If the ship was big enough, I’d have to ask my department head first.” Max sat up and held Sam’s eye. “Sam—you’ve been spaceside. Haven’t you?”

“What gave you that notion, kid?” “What’s your guild?”

“Stow it, Max. Ask me no questions and I’ll sell you no pigs in a poke. Maybe I’ve studied up on the jive just as you have.”

“I don’t believe it,” Max said bluntly.

Sam looked pained. Max went on, “What’s this all about? You ask me a bunch of silly questions—sure, I know quite a bit about spaceside; I’ve been reading about it all my life and Uncle Chet would talk by the hour. But what of it?”

Sam looked at him and said softly, “Max—the Asgard is raising next Thursday—for starside. Would you like to be in her?”

Max thought about it. To be in the fabulous Asgard, to be heading out to the stars, to be—he brushed the vision aside. “Don’t talk that way, Sam! You know I’d give my right arm. Why needle me?”

“How much money have you?” “Huh? Why?”

“How much?”

“I haven’t even had time to count it.” Max started to haul out the wad of bills he had been given; Sam hastily and unobtrusively stopped him.

“Psst!” he protested. “Don’t flash a roll in here. Do you want to eat through a slit in your throat? Keep it down!”

Startled, Max took the advice. He was still more startled when he finished the tally; he had known that he had been given quite a lot of money but this was more than he had dreamed. “How much?” Sam persisted. Max told him, Sam swore softly. “Well, it will just have to do.”

“Do for what?”

“You’ll see. Put it away.”

As Max did so he said wonderingly, “Sam, I had no idea those books were so valuable.” “They aren’t.”

“Huh?”

“It’s malarkey. Lots of guilds do it. They want to make it appear that their professional secrets are precious, so they make the candidate put up a wad of dough for his reference books. If those things were published in the ordinary way, they’d sell at a reasonable price.”

“But that’s right, isn’t it? As the Worthy High Secretary explained, it wouldn’t do for just anybody to have that knowledge.”

Sam made a rude noise and pretended to spit. “What difference would it make? Suppose you still had them—you don’t have a ship to conn.”

“But… ” Max stopped and grinned. “I can’t see that it did any good to take them away from me anyhow. I’ve read them, so I know what’s in them.”

“Sure you know. Maybe you even remember some of the methods. But you don’t have all those columns of figures so you can look up the one you need when you need it. That’s what they care about.”

“But I do! I read them, I tell you.” Max wrinkled his forehead, then began to recite: “‘Page 272, Calculated Solutions of the Differential Equation of Motion by the Ricardo Assumption—” He began to reel off a series of seven-place figures. Sam listened in growing surprise, then stopped him.

“Kid, you really remember that? You weren’t making it up?” “Of course not, I read it.”

“Well, I’ll be a beat up… Look, you’re a page-at-a-glance reader? Is that it?”

“No, not exactly. I’m a pretty fast reader, but I do have to read it. But I don’t forget. I never have been able to see how people forget. I can’t forget anything.”

Sam shook his head wonderingly. “I’ve been able to forget a lot of things, thank Heaven.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe we should forget the other caper and exploit this talent of yours. I can think of angles.”

“What do you mean? And what other caper?”

“Hmm… no, I was right the first time. The idea is to get away from here. And with your funny memory the chances are a whole lot better. Even though you sling the slang pretty well I was worried. Now I’m not.”

“Sam, stop talking riddles. What are you figuring on?’

“Okay, kid, I’ll lay it on the table.” He glanced around, leaned forward, and spoke even more quietly. “We take the money and I spread it around carefully. When the Asgard raises, we’re signed on as crewmen.”

“As apprentices? We wouldn’t even have time for ground school. And besides you’re too old to ‘prentice.”

“Use your head! We don’t have enough to pay one apprentice fee, let alone two, in any space guild—and the Asgard isn’t signing ‘prentices anyhow. We’ll be experienced journeymen in one of the guilds, with records to prove it.”

When the idea soaked in, Max was shocked. “But they put you in jail for that!” “Where do you think you are now?”

“Well, I’m not in jail. And I don’t want to be.”

“This whole planet is one big jail, and a crowded one at that. What chance have you got? If you aren’t born rich, or born into one of the hereditary guilds, what can you do? Sign up with one of the labor companies.”

“But there are non-hereditary guilds.”

“Can you pay the fee? You’ve got a year, maybe two until you’re too old to ‘prentice. If you were sharp with cards you might manage it—but can you earn it? You should live so long! Your old man should have saved it; he left you a farm instead.” Sam stopped suddenly, bit his thumb. “Max, I’ll play fair. Your old man did leave you a fair start in life. With the money you’ve got you can go home, hire a shyster, and maybe squeeze that Montgomery item out of the money he swindled for your farm. Then you can buy your apprenticeship in some guild. Do it, kid. I won’t stand in your way.” He watched Max narrowly.

Max reflected that he had just refused a chance to pick a trade and be given a free start. Maybe he should reconsider. Maybe… “No! That’s not what I want. This… this, uh, scheme of yours; how do we do it?”

Sam relaxed and grinned. “My boy!”

Sam got them a room over Percy’s restaurant. There he coached him. Sam went out several times and Max’s money went with him. When Max protested Sam said wearily, “What do you want? To hold my heart as security? Do you want to come along and scare ’em out of the dicker? The people I have to reason with will be taking chances. Or do you think you can arrange matters yourself? It’s your money and my know-how… that’s the partnership.”

Max watched him leave the first time with gnawing doubts, but Sam came back. Once he brought with him an elderly, gross woman who looked Max over as if he were an animal up for auction. Sam did not introduce her but said, “How about it? I thought a mustache would help.”

She looked at Max from one side, then the other. “No,” she decided, “that would just make him look made up for amateur theatricals.” She touched Max’s head with moist, cold fingers; when he drew back, she admonished, “Don’t flinch, honey duck. Aunt Becky has to work on you. No, we’ll move back his hair line above his temples, thin it out on top, and kill its gloss. Some faint wrinkles tattooed around his eyes. Mmm… that’s all. Mustn’t overdo it.”

When this fat artist was through Max looked ten years older. Becky asked if he wanted his hair roots killed, or would he prefer to have his scalp return to normal in time? Sam started to insist on permanence, but she brushed him aside. “I’ll give him a bottle of ‘Miracle Gro’—no extra charge, it’s just rubbing alcohol—and he can make a big thing of using it. How about it, lover? You’re too pretty to age you permanently.”

Max accepted the “Miracle Gro”—hair restored or your money back.

Sam took away his citizen’s identification card, returned with another one. It had his right name, a wrong age, his right serial number, a wrong occupation, his own thumb print, and a wrong address. Max looked at it curiously. “It looks real.”

“It should. The man who made it makes thousands of real ones—but he charges extra for this.” That night Sam brought him a book titled Ship Economy and embossed with the seal of the Guild of Space Stewards, Cooks, and Purser’s Clerks. “Better stay up all night and see how much you can soak up. The man it belongs to won’t sleep more than ten hours even with the jolt Percy slipped into his nightcap. Want a pill to keep you awake?”

“I don’t think so.” Max examined it. It was in fine print and quite thick. But by five in the morning he had finished it. He woke Sam and gave it back, then went to sleep, his head buzzing with stowage and dunnage, moment arms and mass calculations, hydroponics techniques, cargo records, tax forms, diets, food preservation and preparation, daily, weekly, and quarterly accounts, and how to get rats out of a compartment which must not be evacuated. Simple stuff, he decided—he wondered why such things were considered too esoteric for laymen.

On the fourth day of his incarceration Sam fitted him out with spaceside clothes, none of them new, and gave him a worn plastileather personal record book. The first page stated that he was an accepted brother of the Stewards, Cooks, and Purser’s Clerks, having honorably completed his apprenticeship. It listed his skills and it appeared that his dues had been paid each quarter for seven years. What appeared to be his own signature appeared above that of the High Steward, with the seal of the guild embossed through both. The other pages recorded his trips, his efficiency ratings, and other permanent data, each properly signed by the first officers and pursers concerned. He noted with interest that he had been fined three days pay in the Cygnus for smoking in an unauthorized place and that he had once for six weeks been allowed to strike for chartsman, having paid the penalty to the Chartsmen & Computers Guild for

the chance.

“See anything odd?” asked Sam. “It all looks funny to me.”

“It says you’ve been to Luna. Everybody’s been to Luna. But the ships you served in are mostly out of commission and none of the pursers happens to be in Earthport now. The only starship you ever jumped in was lost on the trip immediately after the one you took. Get me?”

“I think so.”

“When you talk to another spaceman, no matter what ship he served in, it’s not one you served in—you won’t be showing this record to anybody but the purser and your boss anyhow.”

“But suppose they served in one of these?”

“Not in the Asgard. We made darn sure. Now I’m going to take you out on an evening of gaiety. You’ll drink warm milk on account of your ulcer and you’ll complain when you can’t get it. And that’s just about all you’ll talk about—your symptoms. You’ll start a reputation right now for being untalkative; you can’t make many mistakes with your mouth shut. Watch yourself, kid, there will be spacemen around you all evening. If you mess it up, I’ll leave you dirtside and raise without you. Let me see you walk again.”

Max walked for him. Sam cursed gently. “Cripes, you still walk like a farmer. Get your feet out of those furrows, boy.”

“No good?”

“It’ll have to do. Grab your bonnet. We’ll strike while the iron’s in the fire and let the bridges fall where they may.”

“SPACEMAN” JONES

The Asgard was to raise the next day. Max woke early and tried to wake Sam, but this proved difficult. At last the older man sat up. “Oh, what a head! What time is it?”

“About six.”

“And you woke me? Only my feeble condition keeps me from causing you to join your ancestors. Go back to sleep.”

“But today’s the day!”

“Who cares? She raises at noon. We’ll sign on at the last minute; that way you won’t have time to make a slip.”

“Sam? How do you know they’ll take us?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! It’s all arranged. Now shut up. Or go downstairs and get breakfast—but don’t talk to anybody. If you’re a pal, you’ll bring me a pot of coffee at ten o’clock.”

“And breakfast?”

“Don’t mention food in my presence. Show some respect.” Sam pulled the covers up over his head.

It was nearly eleven thirty when they presented themselves at the gate of the port; ten minutes later before the bus deposited them at the base of the ship. Max looked up at its great, bulging sides but was cut short by a crewman standing at the lift and holding a list. “Names.”

“Anderson.” “Jones.”

He checked them off. “Get in the ship. You should have been here an hour ago.” The three climbed into the cage; it swung clear of the ground and was reeled in, swaying, like a bucket on a well rope.

Sam looked down and shuddered. “Never start a trip feeling good,” he advised Max. “It might make you sorry to be leaving.” The cage was drawn up inside the ship; the lock closed after them and they stepped out into the Asgard. Max was trembling with stage fright.

He had expected to be sworn into the ship’s company by the first officer, as called for by law. But his reception was depressingly unceremonious. The crewman who had checked them into the ship told them to follow him; he led them to the Purser’s office. There the Chief Clerk had them sign and thumbprint the book, yawning the while and tapping his buck teeth. Max surrendered his forged personal record book, while feeling as if the deception were stamped on it in bold letters. But Mr. Kuiper merely chucked it into a file basket. He then turned to them. “This is a taut ship. You’ve started by very nearly missing it. That’s a poor start.”

Sam said nothing. Max said, “Yessir.”

The Chief Clerk went on, “Stow your gear, get your chow, and report back.” He glanced at a wall chart. “One of you in D-112, the other in E-009.”

Max started to ask how to get there, but Sam took his elbow and eased him out of the office. Outside he said, “Don’t ask any questions you can avoid. We’re on Baker deck, that’s all we need to know.” Presently they came to a companionway and started back down. Max felt a sudden change in pressure, Sam grinned. “She’s sealed. Won’t be long now.”

They were in D-112, an eight-man bunkroom, and Sam was showing him how to set the lock on the one empty locker when there was a distant call on a loudspeaker. Max felt momentarily dizzy and his weight seemed to pulse. Then it stopped. Sam remarked, “They were a little slow synchronizing the field—or else this bucket of bolts has an unbalanced phaser.” He clapped Max on the back. “We made it, kid.”

They were in space.

E-009 was down one more deck and on the far side; they left Sam’s gear there and started to look for lunch. Sam stopped a passing engineer’s mate. “Hey, shipmate—we’re fresh caught. Where’s the crew’s mess?”

“Clockwise about eighty and inboard, this deck.” He looked them over. “Fresh caught, eh? Well, you’ll find out.”

“Like that, huh?”

“Worse. A madhouse squared. If I wasn’t married, I’d ‘a’ stayed dirtside.” He went on his way.

Sam said, “Ignore it, kid. All the oldtimers in a ship claim its the worst madhouse in space. A matter of pride.” But their next experience seemed to confirm it; the serving window in the mess room had closed at noon, when the ship lifted; Max mournfully resigned himself to living with a tight belt until supper. But Sam pushed on into the galley and came out presently with two loaded trays. They found empty places and sat down.

“How did you do it?”

“Any cook will feed you if you let him explain first what a louse you are and how by rights he doesn’t have to.”

The food was good—real beef patties, vegetables from the ship’s gardens, wheat bread, a pudding, and coffee. Max polished his platter and wondered if he dared ask for seconds. He decided against it. The talk flowed around him and only once was there danger that his tyro status might show up, that being when a computerman asked him a direct question as to his last trip.

Sam stalled it off. “Imperial survey,” he answered briefly. “We’re both still covered.”

The computerman grinned knowingly. “Which jail were you in? The Imperial Council hasn’t ordered a secret survey in years.”

“This one was so secret they forgot to tell you about it. Write ’em a letter and burn them out about it,” Sam stood up. “Finished, Max?”

On the way back to the Purser’s Office Max worried as to his probable assignment, checking over in his mind the skills and experience he was alleged to have. He need not have worried; Mr. Kuiper, with a fine disregard for such factors, assigned him as stableman.

The Asgard was a combined passenger liner and freighter. She carried this trip Hereford breeding stock, two bulls and two dozen cows, and an assortrnent of other animals consigned for ecologic and economic reasons to colonies—pigs, chickens, sheep, a pair of Angora goats, a family of llamas. It was contrary to Imperial policy to plant most terrestrial fauna on other planets; the colonials were expected to establish economy with indigenous flora and fauna—but some animals have been bred for so many generations for the use of man that they are not easily replaced by exotic creatures. On Gamma Leonis VI (b), New Mars, the saurians known locally as “chuckleheads” or “chucks” could and did replace Percherons as draft animals with greater efficiency and economy—but men disliked them. There was never the familial trust that exists between horses and men; unless a strain of chucks should develop a degree of rapport with men (which seemed unlikely) they would eventually die out and be replaced by the horse, for the unforgivable sin of failing to establish a firm treaty with the most ravenous, intolerant, deadly, and successful of the animals in the explored universe, Man.

There was also a cage of English sparrows. Max never did find out where these noisy little scavengers were believed to be necessary, nor was he acquainted with the complex mathematical analysis by which such conclusions were reached. He simply fed them and tried to keep their quarters clean.

There were cats in the Asgard, too, but most of these were free citizens and crewmen, charged with holding down the rats and mice that had gone into space along with mankind. One of Max’s duties was to change the sand boxes on each deck and take the soiled ones to the oxydizer for processing. The other cats were pets, property of passengers, unhappy prisoners in the kennel off the stables. The passengers’ dogs lived there, too; no dogs were allowed to run free.

Max wanted to look back at Earth and see it as a shrinking globe in the sky, but that was a privilege reserved for passengers. He spent the short period when it would have been possible in hauling (by hand) green timothy hay from the hydroponics airconditioning plant to the stables and in cleaning said stables. It was a task he neither liked nor disliked; by accident he had been assigned to work that he understood.

His immediate boss was the Chief Ship’s Steward, Mr. Giordano. Mr. “Gee” split the ship’s housekeeping with Mr. Dumont, Chief Passengers’ Steward; their domains divided at Charlie deck. Thus Mr. Dumont had passengers’ quarters, officers’ country, offices, and the control and communication stations, while Giordano was responsible for everything down (or aft) to but not including the engineering space—crew’s quarters, mess, and galley, stores, stables and kennel, hydroponics deck, and cargo spaces. Both worked for the Purser, who in turn was responsible to the First Officer.

The organization of starships derived in part from that of military vessels, in part from ocean liners of earlier days, and in part from the circumstances of interstellar travel. The first officer was boss of the ship and a wise captain did not interfere with him. The captain, although by law monarch of his miniature world, turned his eyes outward; the first officer turned his inward. As long as all went well the captain concerned himself only with the control room and with astrogation; the first officer bossed everything else. Even astrogators, communicators, computermen, and chartsmen were under the first officer, although in practice he had nothing to do with them when they were on duty since they worked in the “worry hole” under the captain.

The chief engineer was under the first officer, too, but he was nearly an autonomous satrap. In a taut, well-run ship he kept his bailiwick in such shape that the first officer did not need to worry about it. The chief engineer was responsible not only for the power plant and the Horst-Conrad impellers but for all auxiliary engineering equipment wherever located—for example the pumps and fans of the hydroponics installations, even though the purser, through his chief ship’s steward, took care of the farming thereof.

Such was the usual organization of starship liner-freighters and such was the Asgard. It was not identical with the organization of a man-of-war and very different from that of the cheerless transports used to ship convicts and paupers out to colonies that were being forced—in those ships, the purser’s department was stripped to a clerk or two and the transportees did all the work, cooking, cleaning, handling cargo, everything. But the Asgard carried paid passengers, some of whom measured their wealth in megabucks; they expected luxury hotel service even light-years out in space. Of the three main departments of the Asgard, astrogation, engineering, and housekeeping, the Purser’s was by far the largest.

A first officer could reach that high status from chief astrogator, from chief engineer, or from purser, but only if he were originally an astrogator could he go on to captain. The three officer types were essentially mathematicians, business managers, or physicists; a captain necessarily had to be able to practice the mathematical skill of astrogation. First Officer Walther, as was usually the case with a liner, had formerly been a purser.

The Asgard was a little world, a tiny mobile planet. It had its monarch the captain, its useless nobility the passengers, its technical and governing class, and its hewers of wood and drawers of water. It contained flora and fauna in ecological balance; it carried its miniature sun in its power plant. Although its schedule contemplated only months in space, it was capable of staying in space indefinitely. The chef might run out of caviar, but there would be no lack of food, nor of air, nor of heat and light.

Max decided that he was lucky to be assigned to Mr. Giordano rather than to Chief Clerk Kuiper. Mr.

Kuiper supervised his clerks minutely, but Mr. Gee did not often stir his fat frame out of his

office-stateroom. He was a jovial boss—provided everything ran to suit him. Mr. Gee found it an effort

to go all the way down to the stables; once he became convinced that Max was giving the animals proper care and keeping the place clean he gave up inspecting, merely requiring Max to report daily. This gave Giordano more time for his principal avocation, which was distilling a sort of vodka in a cubby in his stateroom, using materials grown in the hydroponds—also in his charge. He carried on a clandestine trade in his product with the crew. By keeping his mouth shut and his ears open Max learned that this was a usual prerogative of a chief ship’s steward, ignored as long as the steward had the judgment to limit his operations. The ship, of course, had a wine mess and bar, but that was for the “beasts”—crewmen could not patronize it.

“I was once in a ship,” Sam told Max, “where the First clamped down—busted up the still, busted the steward to cleaning decks, and generally threw the book.” He stopped to puff on his cigar, a gift from the passenger steward; they were hiding out in Max’s stables, enjoying a rest and a gab. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Use your head. Forces must balance, old son. For every market there is a supplier. That’s the key to the nutshell. In a month there was a still in durn near every out-of-the-way compartment in the ship and the crew was so demoralized it wasn’t fit to stuff vacuum. So the Captain had a talk with the First and things went back to normal.”

Max thought it over. “Sam? Were you that ship’s steward?” “Huh? What gave you that idea?”

“Well… you’ve been in space before; you no longer make any bones about it. I just thought—well, you’ve never told me what your guild was, nor why you were on dirt, or why you had to fake it to get back to space again. I suppose it’s none of my business.”

Sam’s habitual cynical smile gave way to an expression of sadness. “Max, a lot of things can happen to a man when he thinks he has the world by the tail. Take the case of a friend of mine, name of Roberts. A sergeant in the Imperial Marines, good record, half a dozen star jumps, a combat decoration or two. A smart lad, boning to make warrant officer. But he missed his ship once—hadn’t been on Terra for some time and celebrated too much. Should have turned himself in right away, of course, taken his reduction in rank and lived it down. Trouble was he still had money in his pocket. By the time he was broke and sober it was too late. He never quite had the guts to go back and take his court martial and serve his sentence. Every man has his limits.”

Max said presently, “You trying to say you used to be a marine?”

“Me? Of course not, I was speaking of this guy Richards, just to illustrate what can happen to a man when he’s not looking. Let’s talk of more pleasant things. Kid, what do you plan to do next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you figure on doing after this jump?’

“Oh. More of the same, I guess. I like spacing. I suppose I’ll try to keep my nose clean and work up to chief steward or chief clerk.”

Sam shook his head. “Think it through, kid. What happens when your record in this ship is mailed to the guild? And another copy is mailed to the Department of Guilds and Labor?”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you. Maybe nothing happens at first, maybe you can space for another cruise. But eventually the red tape unwinds, they compare notes and see that while your ship lists you as an experienced steward’s mate, there isn’t any Max Jones in their files. Comes the day you ground at Terra and a couple of clowns with sidearms are waiting at the foot of the lift to drag you off to the calabozo.”

“But Sam! I thought it was all fixed?”

“Don’t blow a gasket. Look at me, I’m relaxed—and it applies to me, too. More so, for I have other reasons we needn’t go into to want to let sleeping dogs bury their own dead. As for it being ‘all fixed,’ it is—everything I promised. You’re here, aren’t you? But as for the files: old son, it would have taken ten times the money to tamper with guild files, and as for locating a particular microfilm in New Washington and substituting a fake that would show the record you are supposed to have—well, I wouldn’t know how to start, though no doubt it could be done, with enough time, money, and finesse.”

Max felt sensations almost identical with those he had experienced when Montgomery had announced that the farm was sold. Despite his menial position he liked it aboard ship, he had had no intention of ever doing anything else. He got along with his boss, he was making friends, he was as cozy as a bird in its nest. Now the nest was suddenly torn down. Worse, he was in a trap.

He turned white. Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop spinning, kid! You’re not in a jam.” “Jail—”

“Jail my aunt’s Sunday hat! You’re safe as dirt until we get back. You can walk away from the Asgard at Earthport with your wages in your pocket and have days at least, maybe weeks or months, before anyone will notice, either at the guild mother hall or at New Washington. You can lose yourself among four billion people. You won’t be any worse off than you were when you first ran into me—you were trying to get lost then, remember?—and you’ll have one star trip under your belt to tell your kids about. Or they may never look for you; some clerk may chuck your trip record into the file basket and leave it there until it gets lost rather than bother. Or you might be able to persuade a clerk in Mr. Kuiper’s office to lose the duplicates, not mail them in. Nelson, for example; he’s got a hungry look.” Sam eyed him carefully, then added, “Or you might do what I’m going to do.”

Only part of what Sam had said had sunk in. Max let the record play back and gradually calmed down as he began to understand that his situation was not entirely desperate. He was inclined to agree about Nelson, as Nelson had already suggested indirectly that sometimes the efficiency marks on the ship’s books were not necessarily the ones that found their way into the permanent records—under certain circumstances. He put the idea aside, not liking it and having no notion anyhow of how to go about offering a bribe.

When he came, in his mental play back, to Sam’s last remark, it brought him to attention. “What are you

going to do?”

Sam eyed the end of his cigar stub. “I’m not going back.”

This required no diagram to be understood. But, under Imperial decrees, the suggested offense carried even heavier punishment than faking membership in a guild. Deserting was almost treason. “Keep talking,” Max said gruffly.

“Let’s run over where we touch this cruise. Garson’s Planet—domed colonies, like Luna and Mars. In a domed colony you do exactly what the powers-that-be say, or you stop breathing. You might hide out and have a new identity grafted on, but you would still be in the domes. No good, there’s more freedom even back on Terra. Nu Pegasi VI, Halcyon—not bad though pretty cold at aphelion. But it is still

importing more than it exports which means that the Imperials run the show and the locals will help dig out a wanted man. Now we come to Nova Terra, Beta Aquarü X—and that, old son, is what the doctor ordered and why the preacher danced.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Once. I should have stayed. Max, imagine a place like Earth, but sweeter than Terra ever was. Better weather, broader richer lands… forests aching to be cut, game that practically jumps into the stew pot. If you don’t like settlements, you move on until you’ve got no neighbors, poke a seed in the ground, then jump back before it sprouts. No obnoxious insects. Practically no terrestrial diseases and no native diseases that like the flavor of our breed. Gushing rivers. Placid oceans. Man, I’m telling you!”

“But wouldn’t they haul us back from there?”

“Too big. The colonists want more people and they won’t help the Imperials. The Imperial Council has a deuce of a time just collecting taxes. They don’t even try to arrest a deserter outside the bigger towns.” Sam grinned. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because it didn’t pay. An Imperial would be sent to Back-and-Beyond to pick up someone; while he was looking he would find some golden-haired daughter of a rancher eyeing him—they run to eight or nine kids, per family and there are always lots of eligible fillies, husband-high and eager. So pretty quick he is a rancher with a beard and a new name and a wife. He was a bachelor and he hasn’t been home lately—or maybe he’s married back on Terra and doesn’t want to go home. Either way, even the Imperial Council can’t fight human nature.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“That’s your problem. But best of all, the place still has a comfortable looseness about it. No property taxes, outside the towns. Nobody would pay one; they’d just move on, if they didn’t shoot the tax collector instead. No guilds—you can plow a furrow, saw a board, drive a truck, or thread a pipe, all the same day and never ask permission. A man can do anything and there’s no one to stop him, no one to tell him he wasn’t born into the trade, or didn’t start young enough, or hasn’t paid his contribution. There’s more work than there are men to do it and the colonists just don’t care.”

Max tried to imagine such anarchy and could not, he had never experienced it. “But don’t the guilds object?”

“What guilds? Oh, the mother lodges back earthside squawked when they heard, but not even the Imperial Council backed them up. They’re not fools—and you don’t shovel back the ocean with a fork.”

“And that’s where you mean to go. It sounds lovely,” Max said wistfully.

“I do. It is. There was a girl—oh, she’ll be married now; they marry young—but she had sisters. Now here is what I figure on—and you, too, if you want to tag along. First time I hit dirt I’ll make contacts. The last time I rate liberty, which will be the night before the ship raises if possible, I’ll go dirtside, then in a front door and out the back and over the horizon so fast I won’t even be a speck. By the time I’m marked ‘late returning’ I’ll be hundreds of miles away, lying beside a chuckling stream in a virgin wilderness, letting my beard grow and memorizing my new name. Say the word and you’ll be on the bank, fishing.”

Max stirred uneasily. The picture aroused in him a hillbilly homesickness he had hardly been aware of.

But he could not shuffle off his proud persona as a spaceman so quickly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that. It’s a good many weeks yet, anyhow.” Sam got to his feet. “I’d better hurry back before Ole Massa Dumont wonders what’s keeping me. Be seeing you, kid—and remember: it’s an ill wind that has no turning.

Eldreth

Max’s duties did not take him above “C” deck except to service the cats’ sand boxes and he usually did that before the passengers were up. He wanted to visit the control room but he had no opportunity, it being still higher than passengers’ quarters. Often an owner of one of the seven dogs and three cats in Max’s custody would come down to visit his pet. This sometimes resulted in a tip. At first his

cross-grained hillbilly pride caused him to refuse, but when Sam heard about it, he swore at him dispassionately. “Don’t be a fool! They can afford it. What’s the sense?”

“But I would exercise their mutts anyhow. It’s my job.” He might have remained unconvinced had it not been that Mr. Gee asked him about it at the end of his first week, seemed to have a shrewd idea of the usual take, and expected a percentage—”for the welfare fund.”

Max asked Sam about the fund, was laughed at. “That’s a very interesting question. Are there any more questions?”

“I suppose not.”

“Max, I like you. But you haven’t learned yet that when in Rome, you shoot Roman candles. Every tribe has its customs and what is moral one place is immoral somewhere else. There are races where a son’s first duty is to kill off his old man and serve him up as a feast as soon as he is old enough to swing it—civilized races, too. Races the Council recognizes diplomatically. What’s your moral judgment on that?”

Max had read of such cultures—the gentle and unwarlike Bnathors, or the wealthy elephantine amphibians of Paldron who were anything but gentle, probably others. He did not feel disposed to pass judgment on nonhumans. Sam went on, “I’ve known stewards who would make Jelly Belly look like a philanthropist. Look at it from his point of view. He regards these things as prerogatives of his position, as rightful a part of his income as his wages. Custom says so. It’s taken him years to get to where he is; he expects his reward.”

Sam, Max reflected, could always out-talk him.

But he could not concede that Sam’s thesis was valid; there were things that were right and others that were wrong and it was not just a matter of where you were. He felt this with an inner conviction too deep to be influenced by Sam’s cheerful cynicism. It worried Max that he was where he was as the result of chicanery, he sometimes lay awake and fretted about it.

But it worried him still more that his deception might come to light. What to do about Sam’s proposal was a problem always on his mind.

The only extra-terrestrial among Max’s charges was a spider puppy from the terrestrian planet Hespera. On beginning his duties in the Asgard Max found the creature in one of the cages intended for cats; Max looked into it and a sad, little, rather simian face looked back at him. “Hello, Man.”

Max knew that some spider puppies had been taught human speech, after a fashion, but it startled him; he jumped back. He then recovered and looked more closely. “Hello yourself,” he answered. “My, but you are a fancy little fellow.” The creature’s fur was a deep, rich green on its back, giving way to orange on the sides and blending to warm cream color on its little round belly.

“Want out,” stated the spider puppy.

“I can’t let you out. I’ve got work to do.” He read the card affixed to the cage: “Mr. Chips” it stated, Pseudocanis hexapoda hesperae, Owner: Miss E. Coburn, A-092; there followed a detailed instruction as to diet and care. Mr. Chips ate grubs, a supply of which was to be found in freezer compartment

H-118, fresh fruits and vegetables, cooked or uncooked, and should receive iodine if neither seaweed nor artichokes was available. Max thumbed through his mind, went over what he had read about the creatures, decided the instructions were reasonable.

“Please out!” Mr. Chips insisted.

It was an appeal hard to resist. No maiden fayre crying from a dungeon tower had ever put it more movingly. The compartment in which the cats were located was small and the door could be fastened; possibly Mr. Chips could be allowed a little run—but later; just now he had to take care of other animals.

When Max left, Mr. Chips was holding onto the bars and sobbing gently. Max looked back and saw that it was crying real tears; a drop trembled on the tip of its ridiculous little nose; it was hard to walk out on it. He had finished with the stables before tackling the kennel; once the dogs and cats were fed and their cages policed he was free to give attention to his new friend. He had fed it first off, which had stopped the crying. When he returned, however, the demand to be let out resumed.

“If I let you out, will you get back in later?”

The spider puppy considered this. A conditional proposition seemed beyond its semantic attainments, for it repeated, “Want out.” Max took a chance.

Mr. Chips landed on his shoulder and started going through his pockets. “Candy,” it demanded. “Candy?”

Max stroked it. “Sorry, chum. I didn’t know.” “Candy?”

“No candy.” Mr. Chips investigated personally, then settled in the crook of Max’s arm, prepared to spend a week or more. It wasn’t, Max decided, much like a puppy and certainly not like a spider, except that six legs seemed excessive. The two front ones had little hands; the middle legs served double duty. It was more like a monkey, but felt like a cat. It had a slightly spicy fragrance and seemed quite clean.

Max tried talking to it, but found its intellectual attainments quite limited. Certainly it used human words meaningfully but its vocabulary was not richer than that which might be expected of a not-too-bright toddler.

When Max tried to return it to its cage there ensued twenty minutes of brisk exercise, broken by stalemates. Mr. Chips swarmed over the cages, causing hysterics among the cats. When at last the spider puppy allowed itself to be caught it still resisted imprisonment, clinging to Max and sobbing. He ended by

walking it like a baby until it fell asleep.

This was a mistake. A precedent had been set and thereafter Max was not permitted to leave the kennel without walking the baby.

He wondered about the “Miss Coburn” described on the tag as Mr. Chips’ owner. All of the owners of cats and dogs had shown up to visit their pets, but Mr. Chips remained unvisited. He visualized her as a sour and hatchet-faced spinster who had received the pet as a going-away present and did not appreciate it. As his friendship with the spider puppy grew his mental picture of Miss E. Coburn became even less attractive.

The Asgard was over a week out and only days from its first spatial transition before Max had a chance to compare conception with fact. He was cleaning the stables, with Mr. Chips riding his shoulder and offering advice, when Max heard a shrill voice from the kennel compartment. “Mr. Chips! Chipsie!

Where are you?”

The spider puppy sat up suddenly and turned its head. Almost immediately a young female appeared in the door; Mr. Chips squealed, “Ellie!” and jumped to her arms. While they were nuzzling each other Max looked her over. Sixteen, he judged, or seventeen. Or maybe even eighteen—shucks, how was a fellow to tell when womenfolk did such funny things to their faces? Anyhow she was no beauty and the expression on her face didn’t help it any.

She looked up at him and scowled. “What were you doing with Chipsie? Answer me that!”

It got his back fur up. “Nothing,” he said stiffly. “If you will excuse me, ma’am, I’ll get on with my work.” He turned his back and bent over his broom.

She grabbed his arm and swung him around. “Answer me! Or… or—I’ll tell the Captain, that’s what I’ll do!”

Max counted ten, then just to be sure, recalled the first dozen 7-place natural logarithms. “That’s your privilege, ma’am,” he said with studied calmness, “but first, what’s your name and what is your business here? I’m in charge of these compartments and responsible for these animals—as the Captain’s representative.” This he knew to be good space law, although the concatenation was long.

She looked startled. “Why, I’m Eldreth Coburn,” she blurted as if anyone should know. “And your business?”

“I came to see Mr. Chips—of course!”

“Very well, ma’am. You may visit your pet for a reasonable period,” he added, quoting verbatim from his station instruction sheet. “Then he goes back in his cage. Don’t disturb the other animals and don’t feed them. That’s orders.”

She started to speak, decided not to and bit her lip. The spider puppy had been looking from face to face and listening to a conversation far beyond its powers, although it may have sensed the emotions involved. Now it reached out and plucked Max’s sleeve. “Max,” Mr. Chips announced brightly. “Max!”

Miss Coburn again looked startled. “Is that your name?”

“Yes, ma’am. Max Jones. I guess he was trying to introduce me. Is that it, old fellow?” “Max,” Mr. Chips repeated firmly. “Ellie.”

Eldreth Coburn looked down, then looked up at Max with a sheepish smile. “You two seem to be friends. I guess I spoke out of turn. Me and my mouth.”

“No offense meant I’m sure, ma’am.”

Max had continued to speak stiffly; she answered quickly, “Oh, but I was rude! I’m sorry—I’m always sorry afterwards. But I got panicky when I saw the cage open and empty and I thought I had lost Chipsie.”

Max grinned grudgingly. “Sure. Don’t blame you a bit. You were scared.”

“That’s it—I was scared.” She glanced at him. “Chipsie calls you Max. May I call you Max?” “Why not? Everybody does—and it’s my name.”

“And you call me Eldreth, Max. Or Ellie.”

She stayed on, playing with the spider puppy, until Max had finished with the cattle. She then said reluctantly, “I guess I had better go, or they’ll be missing me.”

“Are you coming back?” “Oh, of course!” “Ummm… Miss Eldreth…” “Ellie.”

“—May I ask a question?” He hurried on, “Maybe it’s none of my business, but what took you so long? That little fellow has been awful lonesome. He thought you had deserted him.”

“Not ‘he’—’she’.” “Huh?”

“Mr. Chips is a girl,” she said apologetically. “It was a mistake anyone could make. Then it was too late, because it would confuse her to change her name.”

The spider puppy looked up brightly and repeated, “‘Mr. Chips is a girl.’ Candy, Ellie?” “Next time, honey bun.”

Max doubted if the name was important, with the nearest other spider puppy light-years away. “You didn’t answer my question?”

“Oh. I was so mad about that I wanted to bite. They wouldn’t let me.” “Who’s ‘they’? Your folks?”

“Oh, no! The Captain and Mrs. Dumont.” Max decided that it was almost as hard to extract information from her as it was from Mr. Chips. “You see, I came aboard in a stretcher—some silly fever, food poisoning probably. It couldn’t be much because I’m tough. But they kept me in bed and when the Surgeon did let me get up, Mrs. Dumont said I mustn’t go below ‘C’ deck. She had some insipid notion that it wasn’t proper.”

Max understood the stewardess’s objection; he had already discovered that some of his shipmates were

a rough lot—though he doubted that any of them would risk annoying a girl passenger. Why, Captain Blaine would probably space a man for that.

“So I had to sneak out. They’re probably searching for me right now. I’d better scoot.”

This did not fit in with Mr. Chips’ plans; the spider puppy clung to her and sobbed, stopping occasionally to wipe tears away with little fists. “Oh, dear!”

Max looked perturbed. “I guess I’ve spoiled him—her. Mr. Chips, I mean.” He explained how the ceremony of walking the baby had arisen.

Eldreth protested, “But I must go. What’ll I do?”

“Here, let’s see if he—she—will come to me.” Mr. Chips would and did. Eldreth gave her a pat and ran out, whereupon Mr. Chips took even longer than usual to doze off. Max wondered if spider puppies could be hypnotized; the ritual was getting monotonous.

Eldreth showed up next day under the stern eye of Mrs. Dumont. Max was respectful to the stewardess and careful to call Eldreth “Miss Coburn.” She returned alone the next day. He looked past her and raised his eyebrows. “Where’s your chaperone?”

Eldreth giggled. “La Dumont consulted her husband and he called in your boss—the fat one. They agreed that you were a perfect little gentleman, utterly harmless. How do you like that?”

Max considered it. “Well, I’m an ax murderer by profession, but I’m on vacation.” “That’s nice. What have you got there?”

It was a three-dimensional chess set. Max had played the game with his uncle, it being one that all astrogators played. Finding that some of the chartsmen and computermen played it, he had invested his tips in a set from the ship’s slop chest. It was a cheap set, having no attention lights and no arrangements for remote-control moving, being merely stacked transparent trays and pieces molded instead of carved, but it sufficed.

“It’s solid chess. Ever seen it?”

“Yes. But I didn’t know you played it.” “Why not? Ever play flat chess?” “Some.”

“The principles are the same, but there are more pieces and one more direction to move. Here, I’ll show you.

She sat tailor-fashion opposite him and he ran over the moves. “These are robot freighters… pawns. They can be commissioned anything else if they reach the far rim. These four are starships; they are the only ones with funny moves, they correspond with knights. They have to make interspace transitions, always off the level they’re on to some other level and the transition has to be related a certain way, like this—or this. And this is the Imperial flagship; it’s the one that has to be checkmated. Then there is… ” They ran through a practice game, with the help of Mr. Chips, who liked to move the pieces and did not care whose move it was.

Presently he said, “You catch on pretty fast.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, the real players play four-dimensional chess.” “Do you?”

“Well, no. But I hope to learn some day. It’s just a matter of holding in your mind one more spatial relationship. My uncle used to play it. He was going to teach me, but he died.” He found himself explaining about his uncle. He trailed off without mentioning his own disappointment.

Eldreth picked up one of the starship pieces from a tray. “Say, Max, we’re pretty near our first transition, aren’t we?”

“What time is it?”

“Uh, sixteen twenty-one—say, I’d better get upstairs.”

“Then it’s, uh, about thirty-seven hours and seven minutes, according to the computer crew.”

“Mmm… you seem to know about such things. Could you tell me just what it is we do? I heard the Astrogator talking about it at the table but I couldn’t make head nor tail. We sort of duck into a space warp; isn’t that right?”

“Oh no, not a space warp. That’s a silly term—space doesn’t ‘warp’ except in places where pi isn’t exactly three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three three eight three two seven, and so forth—like inside a nucleus. But we’re heading out to a place where space is really flat, not just mildly curved the way it is near a star.

Anomalies are always flat, otherwise they couldn’t fit together—be congruent.” She looked puzzled. “Come again?”

“Look, Eldreth, how far did you go in mathematics?”

“Me? I flunked improper fractions. Miss Mimsey was very vexed with me.” “Miss Mimsey?”

“Miss Mimsey’s School for Young Ladies, so you see I can listen with an open mind.” She made a face. “But you told me that all you went to was a country high school and didn’t get to finish at that. Huh?”

“Yes, but I learned from my uncle. He was a great mathematician. Well, he didn’t have any theorems named after him—but a great one just the same, I think.” He paused. “I don’t know exactly how to tell you; it takes equations. Say! Could you lend me that scarf you’re wearing for a minute?”

“Huh? Why, sure.” She removed it from her neck.

It was a photoprint showing a stylized picture of the solar system, a souvenir of Solar Union Day. In the middle of the square of cloth was the conventional sunburst surrounded by circles representing orbits of solar planets, with a few comets thrown in. The scale was badly distorted and it was useless as a structural picture of the home system, but it sufficed. Max took it and said, “Here’s Mars.”

Eldreth said, “You read it. That’s cheating.”

“Hush a moment. Here’s Jupiter. To go from Mars to Jupiter you have to go from here to here, don’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“But suppose I fold it so that Mars is on top of Jupiter? What’s to prevent just stepping across?” “Nothing, I guess. Except that what works for that scarf wouldn’t work very well in practice. Would it?”

“No, not that near to a star. But it works fine after you back away from a star quite a distance. You see, that’s just what an anomaly is, a place where space is folded back on itself, turning a long distance into no distance at all.”

“Then space is warped.”

“No, no, no! Look, I just folded your scarf. I didn’t stretch it out of shape! I didn’t even wrinkle it. Space is the same way; it’s crumpled like a piece of waste paper—but it’s not warped, just crumpled. Through some extra dimensions, of course.”

“I don’t see any ‘of course’ about it.”

“The math of it is simple, but it’s hard to talk about because you can’t see it. Space—our space—may be crumpled up small enough to stuff into a coffee cup, all hundreds of thousands of light-years of it. A

four-dimensional coffee cup, of course.”

She sighed. “I don’t see how a four-dimensional coffee cup could even hold coffee, much less a whole galaxy.”

“No trouble at all. You could stuff this sheer scarf into a thimble. Same principle. But let me finish. They used to think that nothing could go faster than light. Well, that was both right and wrong. It…”

“How can it be both?”

“That’s one of the Horst anomalies. You can’t go faster than light, not in our space. If you do, you burst out of it. But if you do it where space is folded back and congruent, you pop right back into our own space again—but a long way off. How far off depends on how it’s folded. And that depends on the mass in the space, in a complicated fashion that can’t be described in words but can be calculated.”

“But suppose you do it just anywhere?”

“That’s what happened to the first ones who tried it. They didn’t come back. And that’s why surveys are dangerous; survey ships go poking through anomalies that have been calculated but never tried. That’s also why astrogators get paid so much. They have to head the ship for a place you can’t see and they have to put the ship there just under the speed of light and they have to give it the gun at just the right world point. Drop a decimal point or use a short cut that covers up an indeterminancy and it’s just too bad. Now we’ve been gunning at twenty-four gee ever since we left the atmosphere. We don’t feel it of course because we are carried inside a discontinuity field at an artificial one gravity—that’s another of the anomalies. But we’re getting up close to the speed of light, up against the Einstein Wall; pretty soon we’ll be squeezed through like a watermelon seed between your finger and thumb and we’ll come out near Theta Centauri fifty-eight light-years away. Simple, if you look at it right.”

She shivered. “If we come out, you mean.”

“Well… I suppose so. But it’s not as dangerous as helicopters. And look at it this way: if it weren’t for the anomalies, there never would have been any way for us to reach the stars; the distances are too great.

But looking back, it is obvious that all that emptiness couldn’t be real—there had to be the anomalies. That’s what my uncle used to say.”

“I suppose he must have been right, even if I don’t understand it.” She scrambled to her feet. “But I do know that I had better hoof it back upstairs, or Mrs. Dumont may change her mind.” She hugged Mr. Chips and shoved the little creature into Max’s arms. “Walk the baby—that’s a pal.”

THREE WAYS TO GET AHEAD

Max intended to stay awake during the first transition, but he slept through it. It took place shortly after five in the morning, ship’s time. When he was awakened by idlers’ reveille at six it was all over. He jerked on his clothes, fuming at not having awakened earlier, and hurried to the upper decks. The passageways above Charlie deck were silent and empty; even the early risers among the passengers would not be up for another hour. He went at once to the Bifrost Lounge and crossed it to the view port, placed there for the pleasure of passengers.

The stars looked normal but the familiar, age-old constellations were gone. Only the Milky Way, our own galaxy, seemed as usual—to that enormous spiral of stars, some hundred thousand light-years across, a tiny displacement of less than sixty light-years was inconsequential.

One extremely bright yellow-white star was visible; Max decided that it must be Theta Centauri, sun of Garson’s Planet, their first stop. He left shortly, not wanting to chance being found loafing in passengers’ country. The sand boxes which constituted his excuse were then replaced with greater speed than usual and he was back in crew’s quarters in time for breakfast.

The passage to Garson’s Planet took most of a month even at the high boost possible to Horst-Conrad ship. Eldreth continued to make daily trips to see Mr. Chips—and to talk with and play 3-dee chess with Max. He learned that while she had not been born on Hespera, but in Auckland on Terra, nevertheless Hespera was her home. “Daddy sent me back to have them turn me into a lady, but it didn’t take.”

“What do you mean?”

She grinned. “I’m a problem. That’s why I’ve been sent for. You’re in check, Max. Chipsie! Put that back. I think the little demon is playing on your side.”

He gradually pieced together what she meant. Miss Mimsey’s school had been the third from which she had been expelled. She did not like Earth, she was determined to go home, and she had created a reign of terror at each institution to which she had been entrusted. Her widower father had been determined that she must have a “proper” education, but she had been in a better strategic position to impose her will—her father’s Earthside attorneys had washed their hands of her and shipped her home.

Sam made the mistake of joshing Max about Eldreth. “Have you gotten her to set the day yet, old son?” “Who set what day?”

“Now, now! Everybody in the ship knows about it, except possibly the Captain. Why play dumb with your old pal?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!”

“I wasn’t criticizing, I was admiring. I’d never have the nerve to plot so high a trajectory myself. But as

grandpop always said, there are just three ways to get ahead; sweat and genius, getting born into the right family, or marrying into it. Of the three, marrying the boss’s daughter is the best, because—Hey! Take it easy!” Sam skipped back out of range.

“Take that back!”

“I do, I do. I was wrong. But my remarks were inspired by sheer admiration. Mistaken, I admit. So I apologize and withdraw the admiration.”

“But… ” Max grinned in spite of himself. It was impossible to stay angry at Sam. Sure, the man was a scamp, probably a deserter, certainly a belittler who always looked at things in the meanest of terms, but—well, there it was. Sam was his friend.

“I knew you were joking. How could I be figuring on getting married when you and I are going to…” “Keep your voice down.” Sam went on quietly, “You’ve made up your mind?”

“Yes. It’s the only way out, I guess. I don’t want to go back to Earth.”

“Good boy! You’ll never regret it.” Sam looked thoughtful. “We’ll need money.” “Well, I’ll have some on the books.”

“Don’t be silly. You try to draw more than spending money and they’ll never let you set foot on dirt. But don’t worry—save your tips, all that Fats will let you keep, and I’ll get us a stake. It’s my turn.”

“How?”

“Lots of ways. You can forget it.”

“Well… all right. Say, Sam, just what did you mean when you—I mean, well, suppose I did want to marry Ellie—I don’t of course; she’s just a kid and anyhow I’m not the type to marry—but just supposing? Why should anybody care?”

Sam looked surprised. “You don’t know?” “Why would I be asking?”

“You don’t know who she is?”

“Huh? Her name’s Eldreth Coburn and she’s on her way home to Hespera, she’s a colonial. What of it?”

“You poor boy! She didn’t mention that she is the only daughter of His Supreme Excellency, General Sir John FitzGerald Coburn, O.B.E., K.B., O.S.U., and probably X.Y.Z., Imperial Ambassador to Hespera and Resident Commissioner Plenipotentiary?”

“Huh? Oh my gosh!”

“Catch on, kid? With the merest trifle of finesse you can be a remittance man, at least. Name your own planet, just as long as it isn’t Hespera.”

“Oh, go boil your head! She’s a nice kid anyhow.”

Sam snickered. “She sure is. As grandpop used to say, ‘It’s an ill wind that gathers no moss.'”

The knowledge disturbed Max. He had realized that Eldreth must be well to do—she was a passenger,

wasn’t she? But he had no awe of wealth. Achievement as exemplified by his uncle held much more respect in his eyes. But the notion that Eldreth came from such an impossibly high stratum—and that he, Maximilian Jones, was considered a fortune-hunter and social climber on that account—was quite upsetting.

He decided to put an end to it. He started by letting his work pile up so that he could say truthfully that he did not have time to play three-dee chess. So Ellie pitched in and helped him. While he was playing the unavoidable game that followed he attempted a direct approach. “See here, Ellie, I don’t think you ought to stay down here and play three-dee chess with me. The other passengers come down to see their pets and they notice. They’ll gossip.”

“Pooh!”

“I mean it. Oh, you and I know it’s all right, but it doesn’t look right.”

She stuck out her lower lip. “Am I going to have trouble with you? You talk just like Miss Mimsey.” “You can come down to see Chipsie, but you’d better come down with one of the other pet owners.”

She started to make a sharp answer, then shrugged, “Okay, this isn’t the most comfortable place anyhow. From now on we play in Bifrost Lounge, afternoons when your work is done and evenings.”

Max protested that Mr. Giordano would not let him; she answered quickly, “Don’t worry about your boss. I can twist him around my little finger.” She illustrated by gesture.

The picture of the gross Mr. Gee in such a position slowed up Max’s answer, but he finally managed to get out, “Ellie, crew members can’t use the passenger lounge. It’s…”

“They can so. More than once, I’ve seen Mr. Dumont having a cup of coffee there with Captain Blaine.”

“You don’t understand. Mr. Dumont is almost an officer, and if the Captain wants him as his guest, well, that’s the Captain’s privilege.”

“You’d be my guest.”

“No, I wouldn’t be.” He tried to explain to her the strict regulation that crew members were not to associate with passengers. “The Captain would be angry if he could see us right now—not at you, at me. If he caught me in the passengers’ lounge he’d kick me all the way clown to ‘H’ deck.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“But… ” He shrugged. “All right. I’ll come up this evening. He won’t kick me, actually; that would be beneath him. He’ll just send Mr. Dumont over to tell me to leave, then he’ll send for me in the morning. I don’t mind being fined a month’s pay if that is what it takes to show you the way things are.”

He could see that he had finally reached her. “Why, I think that’s perfectly rotten! Everybody is equal. Everybody! That’s the law.”

“They are? Only from on top.”

She got up suddenly and left. Max again had to soothe Mr. Chips, but there was no one to soothe him. He decided that the day that he and Sam disappeared over a horizon and lost themselves could not come too soon.

Eldreth returned next day but in company with a Mrs. Mendoza, the devoted owner of a chow who

looked much like her. Eldreth treated Max with the impersonal politeness of a lady “being nice” to servants, except for a brief moment when Mrs. Mendoza was out of earshot.

“Max?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“I’ll ‘Yes, Miss’ you! Look, Max, what was your uncle’s name? Was it Chester Jones?” “Why, yes, it was. But why…”

“Never mind.” Mrs. Mendoza rejoined them. Max was forced to drop it.

The following morning the dry-stores keeper sought him out. “Hey, Max! The Belly wants you. Better hurry—I think you’re in some sort of a jam.”

Max worried as he hurried. He couldn’t think of anything he had done lately; he tried to suppress the horrid fear that Ellie was involved.

It was clear that Mr. Giordano was not pleased but all that he said was, “Report to the Purser’s Office. Jump.” Max jumped.

The Purser was not there; Mr. Kuiper received him and looked him over with a cold eye. “Put on a clean uniform and make it quick. Then report to the Captain’s cabin.”

Max stood still and gulped. Mr. Kuiper barked, “Well? Move!” “Sir,” Max blurted, “I don’t know where the Captain’s cabin is.”

“What? I’ll be switched! Able deck, radius nine oh and outboard.” Max moved.

The Captain was in his cabin. With him was Mr. Samuels the Purser, Mr. Walther the First Officer, and Dr. Hendrix the Astrogator. Max concluded that whatever it was he was about to be tried for, it could be nothing trivial. But he remembered to say, “Steward’s Mate Third Class Jones reporting, sir.”

Captain Blaine looked up. “Oh, yes. Find a chair.” Max found one, sat down on the edge of it. The Captain said to the First Officer, “Under the circumstances, Dutch, I suppose it’s the best thing to do—though it seems a little drastic. You agree, Hal?”

The Purser agreed. Max wondered just how drastic it was and whether he would live through it.

“We’ll log it as an exception, then, Doc, and I’ll write up an explanation for the board. After all, regulations were made to be broken. That’s the end of it.” Max decided that they were simply going to space him and explain it later.

The Captain turned back to his desk in a manner that signified that the meeting was over. The First Officer cleared his throat. “Captain… ” He indicated Max with his eyes.

Captain Blaine looked up again. “Oh, yes! Young man, your name is Jones?” “Yessir.”

“I’ve been looking over your record. I see that you once tried out for chartsman for a short time in the

Thule?”

“Uh, yes, Captain.” “Didn’t you like it?”

“Well, sir.” Max asked himself what Sam would say when confronted by such a ghost. “It was like this… to tell you the truth I didn’t do much except empty ash trays in the Worry—in the control room.” He held his breath.

The Captain smiled briefly. “It can sometimes work out that way. Would you be interested in trying it again?”

“What? Yes, sir!” “Dutch?”

“Captain, ordinarily I see no point in a man striking twice for the same job. But there is this personal matter.”

“Yes, indeed. You can spare him, Hal?”

“Oh, certainly, Captain. He’s hardly a key man where he is.” The Purser smiled. “Bottom deck valet.” The Captain smiled and turned to the Astrogator. “I see no objection, Doc. It’s a guild matter, of course.” “Kelly is willing to try him. He’s short a man, you know.”

“Very well, then…”

“Just a moment, Captain.” The Astrogator turned to Max. “Jones… you had a relative in my guild?” “My uncle, sir. Chester Jones.”

“I served under him. I hope you have some of his skill with figures.” “Uh, I hope so, sir.”

“We shall see. Report to Chief Computerman Kelly.”

Max managed to find the control room without asking directions, although he could hardly see where he was going.

CHARTSMAN JONES

The change in Max’s status changed the whole perspective of his life. His social relations with the other crew members changed not entirely for the better. The control room gang considered themselves the gentry of the crew, a status disputed by the power technicians and resented by the stewards. Max found that the guild he was leaving no longer treated him quite as warmly while the guild for which he was trying out did not as yet accept him.

Mr. Gee simply ignored him—would walk right over him if Max failed to jump aside. He seemed to

regard Max’s trial promotion as a personal affront.

It was necessary for him to hit the slop chest for dress uniforms. Now that his duty station was in the control room, now that he must pass through passengers’ country to go to and from work, it was no longer permissible to slouch around in dungarees. Mr. Kuiper let him sign for them; his cash would not cover it. He had to sign as well for the cost of permission to work out of his guild, with the prospect of going further in debt to both guilds should he be finally accepted. He signed cheerfully.

The control department of the Asgard consisted of two officers and five men—Dr. Hendrix the Astrogator, his assistant astrogator Mr. Simes, Chief Computerman Kelly, Chartsman First Class Kovak, Chtsmn 2/C Smythe, and computermen Noguchi and Lundy, both second class. There was also

“Sack” Bennett, communicator first class, but he was not really a part of the control gang, even though his station was in the Worry Hole; a starship was rarely within radio range of anything except at the very first and last parts of a trip. Bennett doubled as Captain Blaine’s secretary and factotum and owed his nickname to the often-stated belief of the others that he spent most of his life in his bunk.

Since the Asgard was always under boost a continuous watch was kept; not for them were the old, easy days of rocket ships, with ten minutes of piloting followed by weeks of free fall before more piloting was required. Since the Asgard carried no apprentice astrogator, there were only two officers to stand watches (Captain Blaine was necessarily an astrogator himself, but skippers do not stand watches); this lack was made up by Chief Computerman Kelly, who stood a regular watch as control

officer-of-the-watch. The other ratings stood a watch in four; the distinction between a computerman and a chartsman was nominal in a control room dominated by “Decimal Point” Kelly—what a man didn’t know he soon learned, or found another ship.

Easy watches for everyone but Max—he was placed on watch-and-watch for instruction, four hours on followed by four hours off in which he must eat, keep himself clean, relax, and—if he found time—sleep.

But he thrived on it, arriving early and sometimes having to be ordered out of the Worry Hole. Not until much later did he find out that this stiff regime was Kelly’s way of trying to break him, discover his weakness and get rid of him promptly if he failed to measure up.

Not all watches were pleasant. Max’s very first watch was under Mr. Simes. He crawled up the hatch into the control room and looked around him in wonderment. On four sides were the wonderfully delicate parallax cameras. Between two of them Lundy sat at the saddle of the main computer; he looked up and nodded but did not speak. Mr. Simes sat at the control console, facing the hatch; he must have seen Max but gave no sign of it.

There were other instruments crowded around the walls, some of which Max recognized from reading and from seeing pictures, some of which were strange—tell-tales and gauges from each of the ship’s compartments, a screen to reproduce the view aft or “below,” microphone and controls for the ship’s announcing system, the “tank” or vernier stereograph in which plates from the parallax cameras could be compared with charts, spectrostellograph, dopplerscope, multipoint skin temperature recorder, radar repeater for landing, too many things to take in at once.

Overhead through the astrogation dome was the starry universe. He stared at it, mouth agape. Living as he had been, inside a steel cave, he had hardly seen the stars; the firmament had been more with him back home on the farm.

“Hey! You!”

Max shook his head and found Mr. Simes looking at him. “Come here.” Max did so, the assistant astrogator went on, “Don’t you know enough to report to the watch officer when you come on duty?”

“Uh—sorry, sir.”

“Besides that, you’re late.” Max slid his eyes to the chronometer in the console; it still lacked five minutes of the hour. Simes continued, “A sorry state of affairs when crewmen relieve the watch later than the watch officer. What’s your name?”

“Jones, sir.”

Mr. Simes sniffed. He was a red-faced young man with thin, carroty hair and a sniff was his usual conversational embellishment, at least with juniors. “Make a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Max started to ask where and how, but Mr. Simes had gone back to his reading. Max looked helplessly at Lundy, who indicated a direction with his eyes. Behind the chart safe Max found a coffee maker and under it cups, saucers, sugar, and tins of cream.

He burned himself before getting the hang of the gear’s idiosyncrasies. Mr. Simes accepted the brew without looking at him. Max wondered what to do next, decided to offer a cup to Lundy. The computerman thanked him quietly and Max decided to risk having one himself, since it seemed to be accepted. He took it over beside the computer to drink it.

He was still doing so when the watch officer spoke up. “What is this? A tea party? Jones!” “Yes, sir?”

“Get the place policed up. Looks as if a herd of chucks had been wallowing in it.”

The room seemed clean, but Max found a few scraps of paper to pick up and stuff down the chute, after which he wiped already-gleaming brightwork. He had started to go over things a second time when Lundy motioned him over. Max then helped Lundy change plates in the parallax cameras and watched him while he adjusted the electronic timer. Mr. Simes pushed the ready button himself, which seemed to be his sole work during the watch.

Lundy removed the plates and set them up in the tank for chart comparison, took the readings and logged them. Max gave him nominal help and gathered some notion of how it was done, after which he again wiped brightwork.

It was a long watch. He went to his bunk drained of the elation he had felt.

But watches with Dr. Hendrix and with Chief Kelly were quite different. The Worry Hole was a jolly place under Kelly; he ruled as a benevolent tyrant, shouting, cursing, slandering the coffee, slurring his juniors and being sassed back. Max never touched a polish rag when Kelly was at control; he was kept too busy not merely helping but systematically studying everything in the room. “We haven’t a condemned thing to do,” Kelly shouted at him, “until we hit Carson’s Folly. Nothing to do but to ride this groove down until we hit dirt. So you, my laddy buck, are going to do plenty. When we get there you are going to know this condemned hole better than your mother knew your father—or you can spend your time there learning what you’ve missed while your mates are dirtside getting blind. Get out the instruction manual for the main computer, take off the back plate and get lost in them wires. I don’t want to see anything but your ugly behind the rest of this watch.”

Within ten minutes Kelly was down on his knees with him, helping him trace the intricate circuits.

Max learned, greatly assisted by his photographic memory and still more by the sound grounding in theory he had gotten from his uncle. Kelly was pleased. “I reckon you exaggerated a mite when you said you hadn’t learned anything in the Thule.”

“Well, not much.”

“Johansen have the Worry Hole when you were striking?”

“Uh, yes.” Max hoped frantically that Kelly would not ask other names.

“I thought so. That squarehead wouldn’t tell his own mother how old he was.”

There came a watch when Kelly trusted him to do a dry run for a transition approach on the computer, with Noguchi handling the tables and Kelly substituting for the astrogator by following records of the actual transition the ship had last made. The programming was done orally, as is the case when the astrogator is working under extreme pressure from latest data, just before giving the crucial signal to boost past the speed of light.

Kelly took it much more slowly than would happen in practice, while Noguchi consulted tables and called out figures to Max. He was nervous at first, his fingers trembling so that it was hard to punch the right keys—then he settled down and enjoyed it, feeling as if he and the machine had been born for each other.

Kelly was saying, “—times the binary natural logarithm of zero point eight seven oh nine two.” Max heard Noguchi’s voice call back the datum while he thumbed for the page—but in his mind Max saw the page in front of his eyes long before Noguchi located it; without conscious thought he depressed the right

keys.

“Correction!” sang out Kelly. “Look, meathead, you don’t put in them figures; you wait for translation by Noggy here. How many times I have to tell you?”

“But I did—” Max started, then stopped. Thus far he had managed to keep anyone aboard the Asgard

from learning of his embarrassingly odd memory.

“You did what?” Kelly started to clear the last datum from the board, then hesitated. “Come to think of it, you can’t possibly feed decimal figures into that spaghetti mill. Just what did you do?”

Max knew he was right and hated to appear not to know how to set up a problem. “Why, I put in the figures Noguchi was about to give me.”

“How’s that again?” Kelly stared at him. “You a mind reader?” “No. But I put in the right figures.”

“Hmm… ” Kelly bent over the keyboard. “Call ’em off, Noggy.” The computerman reeled off a string of ones and zeroes, the binary equivalent of the decimal expression Kelly had given him; Kelly checked the depressed keys, his lips moving in concentration. He straightened up. “I once saw a man roll thirteen sevens with honest dice. Was it fool luck, Max?”

“No.”

“Well! Noggy, gimme that book.” Kelly went through the rest of the problem, giving Max raw data and the operations to be performed, but not translating the figures into the binary notation the computer required. He kept thumbing the book and glancing over Max’s shoulder. Max fought off stage fright and punched the keys, while sweat poured into his eyes.

At last Kelly said, “Okay. Twist its tail.” Max flipped the switch which allowed the computer to swallow the program and worry it for an instant; the answer popped out in lights, off or on—the machine’s

equivalent of binary figures.

Kelly translated the lights back into decimal notation, using the manual. He then glanced at the recorded problem. He closed the record book and handed it to Noguchi. “I think I’ll have a cup of coffee,” he said quietly and walked away.

Noguchi reopened it, looked at the lights shining on the board and consulted the manual, after which he looked at Max very oddly. Max saw Kelly staring at him over a cup with the same expression. Max reached up and cleared the board entirely; the lights went out. He got down out of the computerman’s saddle. Nobody said anything.

Max’s next watch was with Dr. Hendrix. He enjoyed watches with the Astrogator almost as much as those with Kelly; Dr. Hendrix was a friendly and soft-spoken gentleman and gave as much attention to training Max as Kelly did. But this time Kelly lingered on after being relieved—in itself nothing, as the Chief Computerman frequently consulted with, or simply visited with, the Astrogator at such times. But today, after relieving the watch, Dr. Hendrix said pleasantly, “Kelly tells me that you are learning to use the computer, Jones?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Very well, let’s have a drill.” Dr. Hendrix dug out an old astrogation log and selected a

transition-approach problem similar to the one Max had set up earlier. Kelly took the manual, ready to act as his “numbers boy”—but did not call the translations. Max waited for the first one; when it did not come, he read the figures from the page shining in his mind and punched them in.

It continued that way. Kelly said nothing, but wet his lips and checked what Max did each time the doctor offered a bit of the problem. Kovak watched from nearby, his eyes moving from actor to actor.

At last Dr. Hendrix closed the book. “I see,” he agreed, as if it were an everyday occurrence. “Jones, that is an extremely interesting talent. I’ve read of such cases, but you are the first I have met. You’ve heard of Blind Tom?”

“No, sir.”

“Perhaps the ship’s library has an account of him.” The Astrogator was silent for a moment. “I don’t mean to belittle your talent, but you are not to use it during an actual maneuver. You understand why?”

“Yes, sir. I guess I do.”

“Better say that you are not to use it unless you think an error has been made—in which case you will speak up at once. But the printed tables remain the final authority.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Good. See me, please, in my room when you come off watch.”

It was “day time” by the ship’s clocks when he went off watch. He went to the passageway outside Dr. Hendrix’s room and waited; there Ellie came across him. “Max!”

“Oh. Hello, Ellie.” He realized uncomfortably that he had not seen her since his tentative promotion.

“Hello he says!” She planted herself in front of him. “You’re a pretty sight—with your bloodshot eyes matching the piping on your shirt. Where have you been? Too good for your old friends? You haven’t even been to see Chipsie.”

He had been, once, although he had not run into Ellie. He had not repeated the visit because the shipmate who had replaced him had not liked being assigned as chambermaid to cows, sheep, llamas, et al.; he had seemed to feel that it was Max’s fault. “I’m sorry,” Max said humbly, “but I haven’t had time.”

“A feeble excuse. Know what you are going to do now? You’re going straight to the lounge and I am going to trim your ears—I’ve figured out a way to box your favorite gambit that will leave you gasping.”

Max opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “No.” “Speak louder. You used a word I don’t understand.”

“Look, Ellie, be reasonable. I’m waiting for Dr. Hendrix and as soon as he lets me go I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m about ten hours minus.”

“You can sleep any time.”

“Not when you’re standing four hours on and four off. You nap anytime you get a chance.” She looked perplexed. “You don’t mean you work every other watch? Why, that’s criminal.” “Maybe so but that’s how it is.”

“But—I’ll fix that! I’ll speak to the Captain.” “Ellie! Don’t you dare!”

“Why not? Captain Blaine is old sugar pie. Never you mind, I’ll fix it.”

Max took a deep breath, then spoke carefully. “Ellie, don’t say anything to the Captain, not anything. It’s a big opportunity for me and I don’t mind. If you go tampering with things you don’t understand, you’ll ruin my chances. I’ll be sent back to the stables.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t understand. He may be an ‘old sugar pie’ to you; to me he is the Captain. So don’t.” She pouted. “I was just trying to help.”

“I appreciate it. But don’t. And anyhow, I can’t come to the lounge, ever. It’s off limits for me.”

“But I thought—I think you’re just trying to avoid me. You run around up here now and you dress in pretty clothes. Why not?”

They were interrupted by Dr. Hendrix returning to his room. “Morning, Jones. Good morning, Miss Coburn.” He went on in.

Max said desperately, “Look, Ellie, I’ve got to go.” He turned and knocked on the Astrogator’s door.

Dr. Hendrix ignored having seen him with Ellie. “Sit down, Jones. That was a very interesting exhibition you put on.” The Astrogator went on, “I’m curious to know how far your talent extends. Is it just to figures?”

“Why, I guess not, sir.”

“Do you have to study hard to do it?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm… We’ll try something. Have you read—let me see—any of the plays of Shakespeare?”

“Uh, we had Hamlet and As You Like It in school, and I read A Winter’s Tale. But I didn’t like it,” he answered honestly.

“In that case I don’t suppose you reread it. Remember any of it?” “Oh, certainly, sir.”

“Hmm—” Dr. Hendrix got down a limp volume.

“Let me see. Act two, scene three; Leontes says, ‘Nor night nor day nor rest: it is but weakness… ‘”

Max picked it up. “… it is but weakness to bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If the cause were not in being… ” He continued until stopped.

“That’s enough. I don’t care much for that play myself. Even the immortal Will had his off days. But how did you happen to have read that book of tables? Shakespeare at his dullest isn’t that dull. I’ve never read them, not what one would call’reading.'”

“Well, sir, Uncle Chet had his astrogation manuals at home after he retired and he used to talk with me a lot. So I read them.”

“Do I understand that you have memorized the entire professional library of an astrogator?” Max took a deep breath. “Well, sir, I’ve read them.”

Dr. Hendrix took from his shelves his own tools of his profession. He did not bother with the binary tables, that being the one Max had shown that he knew. He leafed through them, asked Max questions, finally identifying what he wanted only by page number. He closed the last of them. “Whew!” he commented, and blinked. “While I am aware that there are numerous cases of your talent in the history of psychology, I must admit it is disconcerting to encounter one.” He smiled. “I wonder what Brother Witherspoon would think of this.”

“Sir?”

“Our High Secretary. I’m afraid he would be shocked; he has conservative notions about protecting the’secrets’ of our profession.”

Max said uncomfortably, “Am I likely to get into trouble, sir? I didn’t know it was wrong to read Uncle’s books.”

“What? Nonsense. There are no’secrets’ to astrogation. You use these books on watch, so does every member of the ‘Worry’ gang. The passengers can read them, for all I care. Astrogation isn’t secret; it is merely difficult. Few people are so endowed as to be able to follow accurately the mathematical reasoning necessary to plan a—oh, a transition, let us say. But it suits those who bother with guild politics to make it appear an arcane art—prestige, you know.” Dr. Hendrix paused and tapped on his chair arm. “Jones, I want you to understand me. Kelly thinks you may shape up.”

“Uh, that’s good, sir.”

“But don’t assume that you know more than he does just because you have memorized the books.”

“Oh, no, sir!”

“Actually, your talent isn’t necessary in the control room. The virtues needed are those Kelly has—unflagging attention to duty, thorough knowledge of his tools, meticulous care for details, deep loyalty to his job and his crew and his ship and to those placed over him professionally. Kelly doesn’t need eidetic memory, ordinary good memory combined with intelligence and integrity are what the job takes—and that’s what I want in my control room.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Astrogator hesitated. “I don’t wish to be offensive but I want to add this. Strange talents are sometimes associated with ordinary, or even inferior, mentality—often enough so that the psychologists use the term ‘idiot savant.’ Sorry. You obviously aren’t an idiot, but you are not necessarily a genius, even if you can memorize the Imperial Encyclopedia. My point is: I am more interested in your horse sense and your attention to duty than I am in your phenomenal memory.”

“Uh, I’ll try, sir.”

“I think you’ll make a good chartsman, in time.” Dr. Hendrix indicated that the interview was over; Max got up. “One more thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“There are excellent reasons of discipline and efficiency why crew members do not associate with passengers.”

Max gulped. “I know, sir.”

“Mind your P’s and Q’s. The members of my department are careful about this point—even then it is difficult.”

Max left feeling deflated. He had gone there feeling that he was about to be awarded something—even a chance to become an astrogator. He now felt sweated down to size.

GARSON’S PLANET

Max did not see much of Sam during the weeks following; the stiff schedule left him little time for visiting. But Sam had prospered.

Like all large ships the Asgard had a miniature police force, experienced ratings who acted as the First Officer’s deputies in enforcing ship’s regulations. Sam, with his talent for politics and a faked certffication as steward’s mate first class, managed during the reshuffle following Max’s transfer to be assigned as master-at-arms for the Purser’s department. He did well, treading on no toes, shutting his eyes to such violations as were ancient prerogatives and enforcing those rules of sanitation, economy, and behavior which were actually needed for a taut, happy ship… all without finding it necessary to haul offenders up before the First Officer for punishment—which suited both Mr. Walther and the crew. When Stores Clerk Maginnis partook too freely of Mr. Gee’s product and insisted on serenading his bunk mates, Sam merely took him to the galley and forced black coffee down him—then the following day took him down

to ‘H’ deck, laid his own shield of office aside, and gave Maginnis a scientific going over that left no scars but deeply marked his soul. In his obscure past Sam had learned to fight, not rough house, not in the stylized mock combat of boxing, but in the skilled art in which an unarmed man becomes a lethal machine.

Sam had selected his victim carefully. Had he reported him Maginnis would have regarded Sam as a snoop, a mere busybody to be outwitted or defied, and had the punishment been severe he might have been turned into a permanent discipline problem—not forgetting that reporting Maginnis might also have endangered a sacred cow, Chief Steward Giordano. As it was, it turned Maginnis into Sam’s strongest supporter and best publicist, as Maginnis’s peculiar but not unique pride required him to regard the man who defeated him as “the hottest thing on two feet, sudden death in each hand, a real man! No nonsense about old Sam—try him yourself and see how you make out. Go on, I want to lay a bet.”

It was not necessary for Sam to set up a second lesson.

A senior engineer’s mate was chief master-at-arms and Sam’s nominal superior; these two constituted the police force of their small town. When the technician asked to go back to power room watch-standing and was replaced by an engineer’s mate third, it was natural that Walther should designate Sam as Chief Master-at-Arms.

He had had his eye on the job from the moment he signed on. Any police chief anywhere has powers far beyond those set forth by law. As long as Sam stayed well buttered up with Mr. Kuiper, Mr. Giordano, and (to a lesser extent) with Mr. Dumont, as long as he was careful to avoid exerting his authority in either the engineering spaces or the Worry Hole, he was the most powerful man in the ship—more powerful in all practical matters than the First Officer himself since he was the First Officer’s visible presence.

Such was the situation when the ship grounded at Garson’s Planet.

Garson’s Planet appears to us to be a piece of junk left over when the universe was finished. It has a surface gravity of one-and-a-quarter, too much for comfort, it is cold as a moneylender’s heart, and it has a methane atmosphere unbreathable by humans. With the sky swarming with better planets it would be avoided were it not an indispensable way station. There is only one survey Horst congruency near Earth’s Sun and transition of it places one near Theta Centauri—and of the thirteen planets of that sun, Carson’s Planet possesses the meager virtue of being least unpleasant.

But there are half a dozen plotted congruencies accessible to Theta Centauri, which makes Carson’s Planet the inevitable cross-roads for trade of the Solar Union.

Max hit dirt there just once, once was plenty. The colony at the space port, partly domed, partly dug in under the domes, was much like the Lunar cities and not unlike the burrows under any major Earth city, but to Max it was novel since he had never been on Luna and had never seen a big city on Terra other than Earthport. He went dirtside with Sam, dressed in his best and filled with curiosity. It was not necessary to put on a pressure suit; the port supplied each passenger liner with a pressure tube from ship’s lock to dome lock.

Once inside Sam headed down into the lower levels. Max protested, “Sam, let’s go up and look around.”

“Huh? Nothing there. A hotel and some expensive shops and clip joints for the pay passengers. Do you want to pay a month’s wages for a steak?”

“No. I want to see out. Here I am on a strange planet and I haven’t seen it at all. I couldn’t see it from the control room when we landed and now I haven’t seen anything but the inside of a trans tube and this.” He

gestured at the corridor walls.

“Nothing to see but a dirty, thick, yellow fog that never lifts. Worse than Venus. But suit yourself. I’ve got things to do, but if you don’t want to stick with me you certainly don’t have to.”

Max decided to stick. They went on down and came out in a wide, lighted corridor not unlike that street in Earthport where Percy’s restaurant was located, save that it was roofed over. There were the same bars, the same tawdry inducements for the stranger to part with cash, even to the tailor shop with the permanent “CLOSING OUT” sale. Several other ships were in and the sector was crowded. Sam looked around. “Now for a place for a quiet drink and a chat.”

“How about there?” Max answered, pointing to a sign reading THE BETTER ‘OLE. “Looks clean and cheerful.”

Sam steered him quickly past it. “It is,” he agreed, “but not for us.” “Why not?”

“Didn’t you notice the customers? Imperial Marines.” “What of that? I’ve got nothing against the Imperials.”

“Mmm… no,” Sam agreed, still hurrying, “but those boys stick together and they have a nasty habit of resenting a civilian who has the bad taste to sit down in a joint they have staked out. Want to get your ribs kicked in?”

“Huh? That wouldn’t happen if I minded my own business, would it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Suppose a hostess decides that you’re ‘cute’—and the spit-and-polish boy she was with wants to make something of it? Max, you’re a good boy—but there just ain’t no demand for good boys. To stay out of trouble you have to stay away from it.”

They threaded their way through the crowd for another hundred yards before Sam said, “Here we are—provided Lippy is still running the place.” The sign read THE SAFE LANDING; it was larger but not as pleasant as THE BETTER ‘OLE.

“Who’s Lippy?”

“You probably won’t meet him.” Sam led the way in and picked out a table.

Max looked around. It looked like any other fifth-rate bar grille. “Could I get a strawberry soda here? I’ve had a hankering for one for ages—I used always to get one Saturdays when I went to the Corners.”

“They can’t rule you out for trying.”

“Okay. Sam, something you said—you remember the story you told me about your friend in the Imperials? Sergeant Roberts?”

“Who?”

“Or Richards. I didn’t quite catch it.” “Never heard of the guy.”

“But…”

“Never heard of him. Here’s the waiter.”

Nor had the humanoid Sirian waiter heard of strawberry soda. He had no facial muscles but his back skin crawled and rippled with embarrassed lack of comprehension. Max settled for something called “Old Heidelberg” although it had never been within fifty light-years of Germany. It tasted to Max like cold soap suds, but since Sam had paid for it he nursed it along and pretended to drink it.

Sam bounced up almost at once. “Sit tight, kid. I won’t be long.” He spoke to the barman, then disappeared toward the back. A young woman came over to Max’s table.

“Lonely, spaceman?” “Uh, not especially.”

“But I am. Mind if I sit down?” She sank into the chair that Sam had vacated. “Suit yourself. But my friend is coming right back.”

She didn’t answer but turned to the waiter at her elbow. “A brown special, Giggles.” Max made an emphatic gesture of denial. “No!”

“What’s that, dear?”

“Look,” Max answered, blushing, “I may look green as paint—I am, probably. But I don’t buy colored water at house prices. I don’t have much money.”

She looked hurt. “But you have to order or I can’t sit here.”

“Well… ” He glanced at the menu. “I could manage a sandwich, I guess.”

She turned again to the waiter. “Never mind the special, Giggles. A cheese on rye and plenty of mustard.” She turned back to Max. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Max.”

“Mine’s Dolores. Where are you from?” “The Ozarks. That’s Earthside.”

“Now isn’t that a coincidence! I’m from Winnipeg—we’re neighbors!”

Max decided that it might appear so, from that distance. But as Dolores babbled on it became evident that she knew neither the location of the Ozarks nor that of Winnipeg, had probably never been on Terra in her life. She was finishing the sandwich while telling Max that she just adored spacemen, they were so romantic, when Sam returned.

He looked down at her. “How much did you take him for?”

Dolores said indignantly, “That’s no way to talk! Mr. Lipski doesn’t permit…”

“Stow it, kid,” Sam went on, not unkindly. “You didn’t know that my partner is a guest of Lippy. Get me? No’specials,’ no ‘pay-me’s’—you’re wasting your time. Now how much?”

Max said hastily, “It’s okay, Sam. All I bought her was a sandwich.”

“Well… all right. But you’re excused, sister. Later, maybe.” She shrugged and stood up. “Thanks, Max.”

“Not at all, Dolores. I’ll say hello to the folks in Winnipeg.” “Do that.”

Sam did not sit down. “Kid, I have to go out for a while.” “Okay.”

Max started to rise, Sam motioned him back. “No, no. This I’d better do by myself. Wait here, will you? They won’t bother you again—or if they do, ask for Lippy.”

“I won’t have any trouble.”

“I hope not.” Sam looked worried. “I don’t know why I should fret, but there is something about you that arouses the maternal in me. Your big blue eyes I guess.”

“Huh? Oh, go sniff space! Anyway, my eyes are brown.”

“I was speaking,” Sam said gently, “of the eyes of your dewy pink soul. Don’t speak to strangers while I’m gone.”

Max used an expression he had picked up from Mr. Gee; Sam grinned and left.

But Sam’s injunction did not apply to Mr. Simes. Max saw the assistant astrogator appear in the doorway. His face was redder than usual and his eyes looked vague. He let his body revolve slowly as he surveyed the room. Presently his eyes lit on Max and he grinned unpleasantly.

“Well, well, well!” he said as he advanced toward Max. “If it isn’t the Smart Boy.” “Good evening, Mr. Simes.” Max stood up.

“So it’s ‘good evening, Mr. Simes’! But what did you say under your breath?’ “Nothing, sir.”

“Humph! I know! But I think the same thing about you, only worse.” Max did not answer, Simes went on, “Well, aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?”

“Have a seat, sir,” Max said without expression.

“Well, what do you know? The Smart Boy wants me to sit with him.” He sat, called the waiter, ordered, and turned back to Max. “Smart Boy, do you know why I’m sitting with you?”

“No, sir.”

“To put a flea in your ear, that’s why. Since you pulled that hanky-panky with the computer, you’ve been Kelly’s hair-faired—fair-haired—boy. Fair-haired boy,” he repeated carefully. “That gets you nowhere with me. Get this straight: you go sucking around the Astrogator the way Kelly does and I’ll run you out of the control room. Understand me?”

Max felt himself losing his temper. “What do you mean by ‘hanky-panky,’ Mr. Simes?”

“You know. Probably memorized the last half dozen transitions—now you’ve got Kelly and the Professor thinking you’ve memorized the book. A genius in our midst! You know what that is? That’s a lot of…”

Fortunately for Max they were interrupted; he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and Sam’s quiet voice said, “Good evening, Mr. Simes.”

Simes looked confused, then recognized Sam and brightened. “Well, if it isn’t the copper. Sit down, Constable. Have a drink.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Sam pulled up another chair. “Do you know Smart Boy here?”

“I’ve seen him around.”

“Keep your eye on him. That’s an order. He’s very, very clever. Too clever. Ask him a number. Pick a number between one and ten.”

“Seven.”

Mr. Simes pounded the table. “What did I tell you? He memorized it before you got here. Someday he’s going to memorize one and they’ll stencil it across his chest. You know what, Constable? I don’t trust smart boys. They get ideas.”

Reinforced by Sam’s calming presence Max kept quiet. Giggles had come to the table as soon as Sam joined them; Max saw Sam write something on the back of a menu and pass it with money to the humanoid. But Mr. Simes was too busy with his monologue to notice. Sam let him ramble on, then suddenly interrupted. “You seem to have a friend here, sir.”

“Huh? Where?”

Sam pointed. At the bar Dolores was smiling and gesturing at the assistant navigator to join her. Simes focused his eyes, grinned and said, “Why, so I do! It’s my Great Aunt Sadie.” He got up abruptly.

Sam brushed his hands together. “That disposes of that. Give you a bad time, kid?” “Sort of. Thanks, Sam. But I hate to see him dumped on Dolores. She’s a nice kid.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll roll him for every thin he has on him—and a good job, too.” His eyes became hard. “I like an officer who acts like an officer. If he wants to pin one on, he should do it in his own part of town. Oh, well.” Sam relaxed. “Been some changes, eh, kid? Things are different from the way they were when we raised ship at Terra.”

“I’ll say they are!”

“Like it in the Worry gang?”

“It’s more fun than I ever had in my life. And I’m learning fast—so Mr. Kelly says. They’re a swell bunch—except for him.” He nodded toward Simes.

“Don’t let him worry you. The best soup usually has a fly in it. Just don’t let him get anything on you.” “I sure don’t intend to.”

Sam looked at him, then said softly, “Ready to take the dive?”

“Huh?”

“I’m getting our stake together. We’ll be all set.”

Max found it hard to answer. He had known that his transfer had not changed anything basic; he was still in as much danger as ever. But he had been so busy with the joy of hard, interesting work, so dead for sleep when he was not working, that the subject had been pushed back in his mind. Now he drew patterns on the table in the sweat from the glasses and thought about it. “I wish,” he said slowly, “that there was some way to beat it.”

“There is a way, I told you. Your record gets lost.”

Max raised his eyes. “What good would that do? Sure, it would get me another trip. But I don’t want just another trip; I want to stay with it.” He looked down at the table top and carefully sketched an hyperboloid. “I’d better go with you. If I go back to Terra, it’s the labor companies for me—even if I stay out of jail.”

“Nonsense.” “What?”

“Understand me, kid. I’d like to have you with me. A time like that, having a partner at your elbow is the difference between—well, being down in the dumps and being on top. But you can stay in space, with a record as clean as a baby’s.”

“Huh? How?”

“Because you are changing guilds. Now only one paper has to get lost—your strike-out record with the stewards, cooks, and clerks. And they will never miss it because you aren’t on their books, anyhow. You start fresh with the chartsmen and computers, all neat and legal.”

Max sat still and was tempted. “How about the report to the Department of Guilds and Labor?”

“Same thing. Different forms to different offices. I checked. One form gets lost, the other goes in—and Steward’s Mate Jones vanishes into limbo while Apprentice Chartsman Jones starts a clean record.”

“Sam, why don’t you do it? With the drag you’ve got now you could switch to… uh, well, to…”

“To what?” Sam shook his head sadly. “No, old son, there is nothing I can switch to. Besides, there are reasons why I had better be buried deep.” He brightened. “Tell you what—I’ll pick my new name before I take the jump and tell you. Then some day, two years, ten, twenty, you’ll lay over at Nova Terra and look me up. We’ll split a bottle and talk about when we were young and gay. Eh?”

Max smiled though he did not feel happy. “We will, Sam. We surely will.” Then he frowned. “But, Sam, I don’t know how to wangle the deal—and you’ll be gone.”

“I’ll fix it before I leave. I’ve got Nelson eating out of my hand now. Like this: half cash down and half on delivery—and I’ll fix it so that you have something on him—never mind what; you don’t need to know yet. When you ground at Earthport, he asks you to mail the reports because you are going dirtside and he has work to finish. You check to see that the two reports you want are there, then you give him his pay off. Done.”

Max said slowly, “I suppose that’s best.”

“Quit fretting. Everybody has a skeleton in the closet; the thing is to keep ’em there and not at the feast.” He pushed an empty glass aside. “Kid, would you mind if we went back to the ship? Or had you planned to make a night of it?”

“No, I don’t mind.” Max’s elation at setting foot on his first strange planet was gone—Garson’s Hole was, he had to admit, a sorry sample of the Galaxy.

“Then let’s get saddled up. I’ve got stuff to carry and I could use help.”

It turned out to be four fairly large bundles which Sam had cached in public lockers. “What are they?” Max asked curiously.

“Tea cozies, old son. Thousands of them. I’m going to sell ’em to Procyon pinheads as skull caps.” Somewhat affronted, Max shut up.

Everything coming into the ship was supposed to be inspected, but the acting master-at-arms on watch at the lock did not insist on examining the items belonging to the Chief Master-at-Arms any more than he would have searched a ship’s officer. Max helped Sam carry the bundles to the stateroom which was the prerogative of the ship’s chief of police.

“THROUGH THE CARGO HATCH”

From Garson’s Planet to Halcyon around Nu Pegasi is a double dogleg of three transitions, of 105, 487, and 19 light-years respectively to achieve a “straight line” distance of less than 250 light-years. But neither straight-line distance nor pseudo-distance of transition is important; the Asgard covered less than a

light-year between gates. A distance “as the crow flies” is significant only to crows.

The first transition was barely a month out from Carson’s Planet. On raising from there Kelly placed Max on a watch in three, assigning him to Kelly’s own watch, which gave Max much more sleep, afforded him as much instruction (since the watch with Simes was worthless, instruction-wise), and kept Max out of Simes’ way, to his enormous relief. Whether Kelly had planned that feature of it Max never knew—and did not dare ask.

Max’s watch was still an instruction watch, he had no one to relieve nor to be relieved by. It became his habit not to leave the control room until Kelly did, unless told to do so. This resulted in him still being thrown into the company of Dr. Hendrix frequently, since the Astrogator relieved the Chief Computerman and Kelly would usually hang around and chat… during which time the Astrogator would sometimes inquire into Max’s progress.

Occasionally the Captain would show up on Dr. Hendrix’s watch. Shortly after leaving Garson’s Planet Dr. Hendrix took advantage of one such occasion to have Max demonstrate for Captain Blaine and First Officer Walther his odd talent. Max performed without a mistake although the Captain’s presence made him most self-conscious. The Captain watched closely with an expression of gentle surprise. Afterwards he said, “Thank you, lad. That was amazing. Let me see—what is your name?”

“Jones, sir.”

“Jones, yes.” The old man blinked thoughtfully. “It must be terrifying not to be able to forget—especially

in the middle of the night. Keep a clear conscience, son.”

Twelve hours later Dr. Hendrix said to him, “Jones, don’t go away. I want to see you.” “Yes, sir.”

The Astrogator spoke with Kelly for a few moments, then again spoke to Max. “The Captain was impressed by your vaudeville act, Jones. He is wondering whether you have any parallel mathematical ability.”

“Well—no, sir. I’m not a lightning calculator, that is. I saw one in a sideshow once. He could do things I couldn’t.”

Hendrix brushed it aside. “Not important. I believe you told me that your uncle taught you some mathematical theory?”

“Just for astrogation, sir.”

“What do you think I am talking about? Do you know how to compute a transition approach?” “Uh, I think so, sir.”

“Frankly, I doubt it, no matter how much theoretical drill Brother Jones gave you. But go ahead.” “Now, sir?”

“Try it. Pretend you’re the officer of the watch. Kelly will be your assistant. I’ll just be audience. Work the approach we are on. I realize that we aren’t close enough for it to matter—but you are to assume that the safety of the ship depends on it.”

Max took a deep breath. “Aye aye, sir.” He started to get out fresh plates for the cameras. Hendrix said, “No!”

“Sir?”

“If you have the watch, where’s your crew? Noguchi, help him.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Noguchi grinned and came over. While they were bending over the first camera, Noguchi whispered, “Don’t let him rattle you, pal. We’ll give him a good show. Kelly will help you over the humps.”

But Kelly did not help; he acted as “numbers boy” and nothing else, with no hint to show whether Max was right, or wildly wrong. After Max had his sights and had taken his comparison data between plates and charts he did not put the problem through the computer himself, but let Noguchi man the machine, with Kelly translating. After a long time and much sweat the lights blinked what he hoped was the answer.

Dr. Hendrix said nothing but took the same plates to the tank and started to work the problem again, with the same crew. Very quickly the lights blinked on again; the Astrogator took the tables from Kelly and looked up the translation himself. “We differ only in the ninth decimal place. Not bad.”

“I was wrong only in the ninth place, sir?”

“I didn’t say that. Perhaps I was more in error.”

Max started to grin, but Dr. Hendrix frowned. “Why didn’t you take doppler spectra to check?” Max felt a cold chill. “I guess I forgot, sir.”

“I thought you were the man who never forgot?”

Max thought intuitively—and correctly—that two kinds of memory were involved, but he did not have a psychologist’s jargon with which to explain. One sort was like forgetting one’s hat in a restaurant, that could happen to anyone; the other was being unable to recall what the mind had once known.

Hendrix went on, “A control room man must not forget things necessary to the safety of the ship. However as an exercise you solved it very well—except that you have no speed. Had we been pushing close to the speed of light, ready to cross, your ship would have been in Hades and crashed in the River Styx before you got the answer. But it was a good first try.”

He turned away. Kelly jerked his head toward the hatch and Max went below.

As he was falling asleep Max turned over in his mind the notion that Dr. Hendrix might even be thinking of him for—Oh no! He put the thought aside. After all, Kelly could have done it; he had seen him do early approaches many times, and faster, too. Probably Noguchi could have done it.

Certainly Noguchi could have done it, he corrected. After all, there weren’t any “secrets.”

As they approached the first anomaly the easy watch in three for officers and watch in four for the men changed to watch-and-watch, with an astrogator, an assistant, a chartsman, and a computerman on each watch. Max was at last assigned to a regular watch; the first watch was Dr. Hendrix assisted by Chartsman 1/c Kovak, Max as chartsman of the watch and Noguchi on the computer; the other watch was Mr. Simes assisted by Chief Kelly, Smythe as chartsman and Lundy as computerman. Max noticed that Dr. Hendrix had assigned his “first team” to Simes and had taken the less experienced technicians himself. He wondered why, but was pleased not to be working for Simes.

He learned at last why they called it the “Worry Hole.” Dr. Hendrix became a frozen-masked automaton, performing approach correction after correction and demanding quick, accurate, and silent service.

During the last twenty hours of the approach the Astrogator never left the control room, nor did anyone else other than for short periods when nominally off watch. Simes continued to take his regular watch but Dr. Hendrix hung over him, checking everything that he did. Twice he required the junior astrogator to reperform portions of his work and once elbowed him aside and did it himself. The first time it happened Max stared—then he noticed that the others were careful to be busy doing something else whenever Dr. Hendrix spoke privately to Simes.

The tension grew as the critical instant approached. The approach to an anomalous intraspatial transition can hardly be compared to any other form of piloting ever performed by human beings, though it might be compared to the impossible trick of taking off in an atmosphere plane, flying a thousand miles blind—while performing dead reckoning so perfectly as to fly through a narrow tunnel at the far end, without ever seeing the tunnel. A Horst congruency cannot be seen, it can only be calculated by abstruse mathematics of effects of mass on space; a “gateway” is merely unmarked empty space in vaster emptiness. In approaching a planet an astrogator can see his destination, directly or by radar, and his speed is just a few miles per second. But in making a Horstian approach the ship’s speed approaches that of light—and reaches it, at the last instant. The nearest landmarks are many billions of miles away, the landmarks themselves are moving with stellar velocities and appear to be crowding together in the

exaggerated parallax effects possible only when the observer is moving almost as fast as is his single clue to location and speed—the wave fronts of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Like searching at midnight in a dark cellar for a black cat that isn’t there.

Toward the last Kelly himself was on the computer with Lundy at his ear. Smythe and Kovak were charting, passing new data to Dr. Hendrix, who was programming orally to the computer crew, setting up the problems in his head and feeding them to the electronic brain almost without delay. The power room was under his direct control now; he had a switch led out from the control console in each hand, one to nurse the ship along just below speed of light, the other to give the Asgard the final kick that would cause her to burst through.

Max was pushed aside, no task remained in which there was not someone more experienced. On a different level, Simes too had been pushed aside; there was place for only one astrogator at the moment of truth.

Of all those in the Worry Hole only Captain Blaine seemed to be relaxed. He sat in the chair sacred to him, smoking quietly and watching Hendrix. The Astrogator’s face was gray with fatigue, greasy with unwashed sweat. His uniform was open at the collar and looked slept in, though he certainly had not slept. Max looked at him and wondered why he had ever longed to be an astrogator, ever been foolish enough to wish to bear this undivided and unendurable burden.

But the doctor’s crisp voice showed no fatigue; the endless procession of numbers marched out, sharp as print, each spoken so that there could be no mistake, no need to repeat, “nine” always sounded as one syllable, “five” always stretched into two. Max listened and learned and wondered.

He glanced up through the dome, out into space itself, space shown distorted by their unthinkable speed. The stars ahead, or above, had been moving closer together for the past several watches, the huge parallax effect displacing them to the eye so that they seemed to be retreating in the very sector of the sky they were approaching. They were seeing by infra-red waves now, ploughing into oncoming wave trains so fast that doppler effect reduced heat wave lengths to visible light.

The flood of figures stopped. Max looked down, then looked up hastily as he heard Dr. Hendrix say, “Stand by!”

The stars seemed to crawl together, then instantly they were gone to be replaced without any lapse of time whatever by another, new and totally different starry universe.

Hendrix straightened up and sighed, then looked up. “There’s the Albert Memorial,” he said quietly. “And there is the Hexagon. Well, Captain, it seems we made it again.” He turned to Simes. “Take it, Mister.” He let the Captain go first, then followed him down the hatch.

The control gang went back to easy watches; the next transition was many days away. Max continued as chartsman-of -the-watch in place of Kovak, who temporarily replaced Dr. Hendrix while the Astrogator got a week of rest: There was truly not much to do during the early part of a leg and the doctor’s superb skill was not needed. But Max greatly enjoyed the new arrangements; it made him proud to sign the rough log “M. Jones, Chtsmn o/W.” He felt that he had arrived—even though Simes found fault with him and Kelly continued to drill him unmercifully in control room arts.

He was surprised but not apprehensive when he was told, during an off-watch period, to report to the Astrogator. He put on a fresh uniform, slicked his hair clown, and went above “C” deck. “Apprentice Chartsman Jones reporting, sir.”

Kelly was there, having coffee with the Astrogator. Hendrix acknowledged Max’s salutation but left him standing. “Yes, Jones.” He turned to Kelly. “Suppose you break the news.”

“If you say so, sir.” Kelly looked uncomfortable. “Well, Jones, it’s like this—you don’t really belong in my guild.”

Max was so shocked that he could not answer. He was about to say that he had thought—he had understood—he hadn’t known—But he got nothing out; Kelly continued, “The fact is, you ought to buck for astrogator. The Doctor and I have been talking it over.”

The buzzing in his head got worse. He became aware that Dr. Hendrix was repeating, “Well, Jones? Do you want to try it? Or don’t you?”

Max managed to say, “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Good. Kelly and I have been watching you. He is of the opinion and so am I that you may, just possibly, have the latent ability to develop the skill and speed necessary. The question is: do you think so?”

“Uh… that is—I hope so, sir!”

“So do I,” Hendrix answered dryly. ‘We shall see. If you haven’t, you can revert to your own guild and no harm is done. The experience will make you a better chartsman.” The Astrogator turned to Kelly. “I’ll quiz Jones a bit, Kelly. Then we can make up our minds.”

“Very good, sir.” Kelly stood up.

When the Chief Computerman had gone Hendrix turned to his desk, hauled out a crewman’s personal record. To Max he said harshly, “Is this yours?”

Max looked at it and gulped. “Yes, sir.”

Dr. Hendrix held his eye. “Well? How good a picture is it of your career thus far? Any comment you want to make?”

The pause might have been a dozen heart beats, though to Max it was an endless ordeal. Then a catharsis came bursting up out of him and he heard himself answering, “It’s not a good picture at all, sir. It’s phony from one end to the other.”

Even as he said it, he wondered why. He felt that he had kicked to pieces his one chance to achieve his ambition. Yet, instead of feeling tragic, he felt oddly relaxed.

Hendrix put the personal record back on his desk. “Good,” he answered. “Very good. If you had given any other answer, I would have run you out of my control room. Now, do you want to tell me about it? Sit down.”

So Max sat down and told him. All that he held back was Sam’s name and such details as would have identified Sam. Naturally Dr Hendrix noticed the omission and asked him point blank.

“I won’t tell you, sir.”

Hendrix nodded. “Very well. Let me add that I shall make no attempt to identify this, ah, friend of yours—if by chance he is in this ship.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There followed a considerable silence. At last Hendrix said, “Son, what led you to attempt this preposterous chicanery? Didn’t you realize you would be caught?”

Max thought about it. “I guess I knew I would be, sir—eventually. But I wanted to space and there wasn’t any other way to do it.” When Hendrix did not answer Max went on. After the first relief of being able to tell the truth, he felt defensive, anxious to justify himself—and just a little bit irked that Dr. Hendrix did not see that he had simply done what he had to do—so it seemed to Max. “What would you have done, sir?”

“Me? How can I answer that? What you’re really asking is: do I consider your actions morally wrong, as well as illegal?”

“Uh, I suppose so, sir.”

“Is it wrong to lie and fake and bribe to get what you want? It’s worse than wrong, it’s undignified!”

Dr. Hendrix chewed his lip and continued. “Perhaps that opinion is the sin of the Pharisees… my own weakness. I don’t suppose that a young, penniless tramp, such as you described yourself to be, can afford the luxury of dignity. As for the rest, human personality is a complex thing, nor am I a judge.

Admiral Lord Nelson was a liar, a libertine, and outstandingly undisciplined. President Abraham Lincoln was a vulgarian and nervously unstable. The list is endless. No, Jones, I am not going to pass judgment; you must do that yourself. The authorities having jurisdiction will reckon your offenses; I am concerned only with whether or not you have the qualities I need.”

Max’s emotions received another shock. He had already resigned himself to the idea that he had lost his chance. “Sir?”

“Don’t misunderstand me.” Hendrix tapped the forged record. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. But perhaps you can live down your mistake. In the meantime, I badly need another watch officer; if you measure up, I can use you. Part of it is personal, too; your uncle taught me, I shall try to teach you.”

“Uh, I’ll try, sir. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not even feeling particularly friendly to you, at the moment. Don’t talk with anyone. I’ll ask the Captain to call a guild meeting and he and Mr. Simes and I will vote on you. We’ll make you a probationary apprentice which will permit the Captain to appoint you to the temporary rank of merchant cadet. The legalities are a bit different from those of the usual route as you no doubt know.”

Max did not know, though he was aware that officers sometimes came up “through the cargo hatch”—but another point hit him. “Mr. Simes, sir?”

“Certainly. By this procedure, all the astrogators you serve with must pass on you.” “Uh, does it have to unanimous, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Then—Well, sir, you might as well forget it. I mean, I appreciate your willingness to, uh, but… ” His voice trailed off.

Dr. Hendrix smiled mirthlessly. “Hadn’t you better let me worry about that?” “Oh. Sorry, sir.”

“When it has been logged, I’ll notify you. Or ‘when and if,’ if you prefer.”

“Yes, sir.” Max stood up. “Sir? There were, uh, a couple of other things I wondered about.” Hendrix had turned back to his desk. He answered, “Well?” somewhat impatiently.

“Would you mind telling me—just for my curiosity—how you caught me?”

“Oh, that. No doubt you’ve given yourself away to several people. I’m sure Kelly knows, from the subjects he avoided. For example, I once heard Lundy mention to you Kiefer’s Ritz on Luna. Your answer, though noncommittal, implied that you did not really know what dive he was talking about—and it is impossible for a spaceman not to know that place, its entrance faces the east lock to the space port.”

“Oh.”

“But the matter came to the top of my mind in connection with this.” He again indicated the false record. “Jones, I deal in figures and my mind can no more help manipulating them for all the information they contain than I can help breathing. This record says that you went to space a year before your uncle retired—I remember what year that was. But you told me that your uncle had trained you at home and your performance bore out that statement. Two sets of alleged facts were contradictory; need I add that I was fairly sure of the truth?”

“Oh. I guess I wasn’t very smart?’

“No, you weren’t. Figures are sharp things, Jones. Don’t juggle them, you’ll get cut. What was the other matter?”

“Well, sir, I was kind of wondering what was going to happen to me. I mean about that.”

“Oh,” Hendrix answered indifferently, “that’s up to the Stewards & Clerks. My guild won’t take action concerning a disciplinary matter of another guild. Unless, of course, they call it ‘moral turpitude’ and make it stick.”

With that faint comfort Max left, Nevertheless he felt easier than he had at any time since he had signed on. The prospect of punishment seemed less a burden than constantly worrying about getting caught.

Presently he forgot it and exulted in the opportunity—at last!—to take a crack at astrogator. He wished he could tell Sam… or Ellie.

HALCYON

The probationary appointment was logged later that same day. The Captain called him in, swore him in, then congratulated him and called him “Mister” Jones. The ceremony was simple, with no spectator but Hendrix and the Captain’s secretary.

The commonplaces attendant on the change were, for a while, more startling to Max than the promotion itself. They started at once. “You had better take the rest of the day to shake down, Mr. Jones,” the Captain said, blinking vaguely. “Okay, Doc?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Good. Bennett, will you ask Dumont to step in?”

The Chief Passengers’ Steward was unblinkingly unsurprised to find the recent steward’s mate third a ship’s officer. To the Captain’s query he said, “I was planning to put Mr. Jones in stateroom B-014, sir. Is that satisfactory?”

“No doubt, no doubt.”

“I’ll have boys take care of his luggage at once.”

“Good. You trot along with Dumont, Mr. Jones. No, wait a moment. We must find you a cap.” The Captain went to his wardrobe, fumbled around. “I had one that would do here somewhere.”

Hendrix had been standing with his hands behind him. “I fetched one, Captain. Mr. Jones and I wear the same size, I believe.”

“Good. Though perhaps his head has swelled a bit in the past few minutes. Eh?”

Hendrix grinned savagely. “If it has, I’ll shrink it.” He handed the cap to Max. The wide gold strap and sunburst the Astrogator had removed; substituted was a narrow strap with tiny sunburst surrounded by the qualifying circle of the apprentice. Max thought it must be old insignia saved for sentimental reasons by Hendrix himself. He choked up as he mumbled his thanks, then followed Dumont out of the Captain’s cabin, stumbling over his feet.

When they reached the companionway Dumont stopped. “There is no need to go down to the bunkroom, sir. If you will tell me the combination of your locker, we’ll take care of everything.”

“Oh, gee, Mr. Dumont! I’ve got just a small amount of truck. I can carry it up myself.”

Dumont’s face had the impassivity of a butler’s. “If I may make a suggestion, sir, you might like to see your stateroom while I have the matter taken care of.” It was not a question; Max interpreted it correctly to mean: “Look, dummy, I know the score and you don’t. Do what I tell you before you make a terrible break!”

Max let himself be guided. It is not easy to make the jump from crewman to officer while remaining in the same ship. Dumont knew this, Max did not. Whether his interest was fatherly, or simply a liking for correct protocol—or both—Dumont did not intend to allow the brand-new junior officer to go lower than “C” deck until he had learned to carry his new dignity with grace. So Max sought out stateroom

B-014.

The bunk had a real foam mattress and a spread. There was a tiny wash basin with running water and a mirror. There was a bookshelf over the bunk and a wardrobe for his uniforms. There was even a shelf desk that let down for his convenience. There was a telephone on the wall, a buzzer whereby he could summon the steward’s mate on watch! There was a movable chair all his own, a wastebasket, and—yes!—a little rug on the deck. And best of all, there was a door with a lock.

The fact that the entire room was about as large as a piano box bothered him not at all.

He was opening drawers and poking into things when Dumont returned. Dumont was not carrying Max’s meager possessions himself; that task was delegated to one of his upper-decks staff. The steward’s mate followed Dumont in and said, “Where shall I put this, sir?”

Max realized with sudden embarrassment that the man waiting on him had eaten opposite him for past months. “Oh! Hello, Jim. Just dump it on the bunk. Thanks a lot.”

“Yes, sir. And congratulations!”

“Uh, thanks!” They shook hands. Dumont let that proper ceremony persist for a minimum time, then said, “That’s all now, Gregory. You can go back to the pantry.” He turned to Max. “Anything else, sir?”

“Oh, no, everything is fine.”

“May I suggest that you probably won’t want to sew insignia on these uniforms yourself? Unless you are better with a needle than I am,” Dumont added with just the right chuckle.

“Well, I guess I could.”

“Mrs. Dumont is handy with a needle, taking care of the lady passengers as she does. Suppose I take this one? It can be ready and pressed in time for dinner.”

Max was happy to let him. He was suddenly appalled by a terrifying notion—he was going to have to eat in the Bifrost Lounge!

But there were further disturbances before dinner. He was completing the small task of stowing his possessions when there came a knock on the door, followed immediately by someone coming in. Max found himself nose to nose with Mr. Simes.

Simes looked at the cap on his head and laughed. “Take that thing off before you wear out your ears.” Max did not do so. He said, “You wanted me, sir?”

“Yes. Just long enough, Smart Boy, to give you a word of advice.” “Yes?”

Simes tapped himself on the chest. “Just this. There is only one assistant astrogator in this ship—and I’m it. Remember that. I’ll still be it long after you’ve been busted back to sweeping up after cows. Which is where you belong.”

Max felt a flush crawl up his neck and burn his cheeks. “Why,” he asked, “if you think that, didn’t you veto my appointment?”

Simes laughed again. “Do I look like a fool? The Captain says yes, the Astrogator says yes—should I stick my neck out? It’s easier to wait and let you stick your neck out—which you will. I just wanted to let you know that a dinky piece of gold braid doesn’t mean a thing. You’re still junior to me by plenty. Don’t forget it.”

Max clenched his jaw and did not answer. Simes went on, “Well?” “‘Well’ what?”

“I just gave you an order.”

“Oh. Aye aye, Mr. Simes. I won’t forget it. I certainly won’t.”

Simes looked at him sharply, said, “See that you don’t,” and left. Max was still facing his door, clenching his fists, when Gregory tapped on the door. “Dinner, sir. Five minutes.”

Max delayed as long as he could, wishing mightily that he could slide down to Easy deck and take his usual place in the warm, noisy, relaxed comfort of the crew’s mess. He hesitated in the lounge doorway, paralyzed with stage fright. The beautiful room was blazing with light and looked unfamiliar; he had never been in it save in early morning, to change the sandbox located down the pantry passage—at which times only standing lights were burning.

He was barely in time; some of the ladies were seated but the Captain was still standing. Max realized that he should be near his chair, ready to sit down when the Captain did—or as soon as the ladies were seated, he amended—but where should he go? He was still jittering when he heard his name shouted. “Max!”

Ellie came running up and threw her arms around his neck. “Max! I just heard. I think it’s wonderful!”

She looked at him, her eyes shining, then kissed him on both cheeks.

Max blushed to his ears. He felt as if every eye was turned on him—and he was right. To add to his embarrassment Ellie was dressed in formal evening dress of Hesperan high style, which not only made her look older and much more female, but also shocked his puritanical hillbilly standards.

She let go of him, which was well but left him in danger of collapsing at the knees. She started to babble something, Max did not know what, when Chief Steward Dumont appeared at her elbow. “The Captain is waiting, Miss,” he said firmly.

“Bother to the Captain! Oh, well—see you after dinner, Max.” She headed for the Captain’s table. Dumont touched Max’s sleeve and munnured, “This way, sir.”

His place was at the foot of the Chief Engineer’s table. Max knew Mr. Compagnon by sight but had never spoken to him. The Chief glanced up and said, “Evening, Mr. Jones. Glad to have you with us. Ladies and gentlemen, our new astrogation officer, Mr. Jones. On your right, Mr. Jones, is Mrs. Daigler. Mr. Daigler on her right, then—” and so on, around the table: Dr. and Mrs. Weberbauer and their daughter Rebecca, Mr. and Mrs. Scott, a Mr. Arthur, Senhor and Senhora Vargas.

Mrs. Daigler thought it was lovely, his being promoted. And so nice to have more young people at the table. She was much older than Max but young enough to be handsome and aware of it. She wore more jewels than Max had ever seen and her hair was lacquered into a structure a foot high and studded with pearls. She was as perfectly finished and as expensive as a precision machine and she made Max uncomfortable.

But he was not yet as uncomfortable as he could be. Mrs. Daigler produced a wisp of a handkerchief from her bosom, moistened it and said, “Hold still, Mr. Jones.” She scrubbed his cheek. “Turn your head.” Blushing, Max complied.

“There, that’s better,” Mrs. Daigler announced. “Mama fixed.” She turned away and said, “Don’t you think, Mr. Compagnon, that science, with all the wonderful things they do these days, could discover a lip paint that wouldn’t come off?”

“Stop it, Maggie,” her husband interrupted. “Pay no attention, Mr. Jones. She’s got a streak of sadism as wide as she is.”

“George, you’ll pay for that. Well, Chief?”

The Chief Engineer patted his lips with snowy linen. “I think it must already have been invented, but there

was no market. Women like to brand men, even temporarily.” “Oh, bosh!”

“It’s a woman’s world, ma’am.”

She turned to Max. “Eldreth is a dear, isn’t she? I suppose you knew her ‘dirtside’?—as Mr. Compagnon calls it.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then how? I mean, after all, there isn’t much opportunity. Or is there?” “Maggie, stop pestering him. Let the man eat his dinner.”

Mrs. Weberbauer on his other side was as easy and motherly as Mrs. Daigler was difficult. Under her soothing presence Max managed to start eating. Then he noticed that the way he grasped a fork was not the way the others did, tried to change, made a mess of it, became aware of his untidy nails, and wanted to crawl under the table. He ate about three hundred calories, mostly bread and butter.

At the end of the meal Mrs. Daigler again gave her attention to him, though she addressed the Chief Engineer. “Mr. Compagnon, isn’t it customary to toast a promotion?”

“Yes,” the Chief conceded. “But he must pay for it. That’s a requirement.”

Max found himself signing a chit presented by Dumont. The price made him blink—his first trip might be a professional success, but so far it had been financial disaster. Champagne, iced in a shiny bucket, accompanied the chit and Dumont cut the wires and drew the cork with a flourish.

The Chief Engineer stood up. “Ladies and gentlemen—I give you Astrogator Jones. May he never misplace a decimal point!”

“Cheers!”—”Bravo!”—”Speech, speech!”

Max stumbled to his feet and muttered, “Thank you.”

His first watch was at eight o’clock the next morning. He ate breakfast alone and reflected happily that as a watch stander he would usually eat either before or after the passengers. He was in the control room a good twenty minutes early.

Kelly glanced up and said, “Good morning, sir.”

Max gulped. “Er—good morning, Chief!” He caught Smythe grinning behind the computer, turned his eyes hastily away.

“Fresh coffee, Mr. Jones. Will you have a cup?” Max let Kelly pour for him; while they drank Kelly quietly went over the details—acceleration schedule, position and vector, power units in use, sights taken, no special orders, etc. Noguchi relieved Smythe, and shortly before the hour Dr. Hendrix appeared.

“Good morning, sir.” “Good morning, Doctor.”

“Morning.” Hendrix accepted coffee, turned to Max. “Have you relieved the officer of the watch?” “Uh, why no, sir.”

“Then do so. It lacks less than a minute of eight.”

Max turned to Kelly and shakily saluted. “I relieve you, sir.”

“Very well, sir.” Kelly went below at once. Dr. Hendrix sat down, took out a book and started to read. Max realized with a chilly feeling that he had been pushed in, to swim or not. He took a deep breath and went over to Noguchi. “Noggy, let’s get the plates ready for the middle o’ watch sights.”

Noguchi glanced at the chronometer. “As you say, sir.” “Well… I guess it is early. Let’s take a few dopplers.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Noguchi climbed out of the saddle where he had been loafing. Max said in a low voice, “Look, Noggy, you don’t have to say’sir’ to me.”

Noguchi answered just as quietly. “Kelly wouldn’t like it if I didn’t. Better let it ride.” “Oh.” Max frowned. “Noggy? How does the rest of the Worry gang feel about it?”

Noguchi did not pretend not to understand. He answered, “Shucks, they’re all rooting for you, if you can swing it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Certain. Just as long as you don’t try to make a big hairy thing out of yourself like—well, like some I could mention.” The computerman added, “Maybe Kovak isn’t exactly cheering. He’s been having a watch of his own, you know—for the first time.”

“He’s sore?”

“Not exactly. He couldn’t expect to keep it long anyhow, not with a transition coming up. He won’t go out of his way to give you trouble, he’ll be fair.”

Max made a mental note to see what he could do to swing Kovak over to his side. The two manned the dopplerscope, took readings on stars forward of vector, checked what they found by spectrostellograph, and compared both with standard plates from the chart safe. At first Max had to remember that he was in charge; then he got so interested in fussy details of measurements that he was no longer self-conscious. At last Noguchi touched his sleeve. “Pushing ten o’clock, sir. I’d better get set up.”

“Huh? Sure, go ahead.” He reminded himself not to help Noggy; the chartsman has his prerogatives, too. But he checked the set up just as Hendrix always did, as Simes rarely did, and as Kelly sometimes did, depending on who had made it.

After they had gotten the new data Max programmed the problem on paper (there being plenty of time), then called it off to Noguchi at the computer. He thumbed the book himself, there being no “numbers boy” available. The figures were as clear in his recollection as ever, but he obeyed Hendrix’s injunction not to depend on memory.

The result worried him. They were not “in the groove.” Not that the Asgard was far out, but the discrepancy was measurable. He checked what he had done, then had Noguchi run the problem again,

using a different programming method. The result came out the same.

Sighing, he computed the correction and started to take it to Hendrix for approval. But the Astrogator still paid no attention; he sat at the console, reading a novel from the ship’s library.

Max made up his mind. He went to the console and said, “Excuse me, sir. I need to get there for a moment.” Hendrix got up without answering and found another seat. Max sat down and called the power room. “Control officer speaking. I intend to increase boost at eleven o’clock. Stand by for time check.”

Hendrix must have heard him, he thought, but the Astrogator gave no sign. Max fed in the correction, set the control chronometer to execute his wishes at eleven plus-or-minus nothing.

Shortly before noon Simes showed up. Max had already written his own log, based on Noguchi’s log, and had signed it “M. Jones.” He had hesitated, then added “C. O. o/W.” Simes went to Dr. Hendrix, saluted, and said, “Ready to relieve you, sir.”

Hendrix spoke his first word since eight o’clock. “He’s got it.”

Simes looked non-plussed, then went to Max. “Ready to relieve you.” Max recited off the situation data while Simes read the log and the order book. Simes interrupted him while he was still listing minor ship’s data. “Okay, I relieve you. Get out of my control room, Mister.” Max got out. Dr. Hendrix had already gone down.

Noguchi had loitered at the foot of the ladder. He caught Max’s eye, made a circle with thumb and finger and nodded. Max grinned at him, started to ask a question; he wanted to know if that discrepancy was a booby trap, intentionally left in by Kelly. Then he decided that it would not be fitting; he’d ask Kelly himself, or figure it from the records. “Thanks, Noggy.”

That watch turned out to be typical only in the one respect that Dr. Hendrix continued to require Max to be officer of the watch himself. He did not again keep quiet but rode Max steadily, drilling him hour after hour, requiring him to take sights and set up problems continuously, as if the Asgard were actually close to transition. He did not permit Max to program on paper but forced him to pretend that time was too short and that data must immediately go into the computer, be acted on at once. Max sweated, with remote controls in each fist and with Hendrix himself acting as “numbers boy.” The Astrogator kept pushing him for speed, speed, and more speed—never at the sacrifice of accuracy, for any error was unforgivable. But the goal was always greater speed.

Once Max objected. “Sir, if you would let me put it right into the machine, I could cut it down a lot.”

Hendrix snapped, “When you have your own control room, you can do that, if you think it wise. Now you’ll do it my way.”

Occasionally Kelly would take over as his supervisor. The Chief Computerman was formal, using such phrases as, “May I suggest, sir—” or “I think I’d do it this way, sir.” But once he broke out with, “Confound it, Max! Don’t ever pull a dumb stunt like that!”

Then he started to amend his remarks. Max grinned. “Please, Chief. For a moment you made me feel at home. Thanks.”

Kelly looked sheepish. “I’m tired, I guess. I could do with a smoke and some java.”

While they were resting Max noted that Lundy was out of earshot and said, “Chief? You know more than I’ll ever learn. Why didn’t you buck for astrogator? Didn’t you ever get a chance?”

Kelly suddenly looked bleak. “I once did,” he said stiffly. “Now I know my limitations.” Max shut up, much embarrassed. Thereafter Kelly reverted to calling him Max whenever they were alone.

Max did not see Sam for more than a week after he moved up to Baker deck. Even then the encounter was chance; he ran across him outside the Purser’s office. “Sam!”

“Good morning, sir!” Sam drew up in a smart salute with a broad grin on his face. “Huh? ‘Good morning, sir’ my foot! How’s it going, Sam?”

“Aren’t you going to return my salute? In my official capacity I can report you, you know. The Captain is very, very fussy about ship’s etiquette.”

Max made a rude noise. “You can hold that salute until you freeze, you clown.”

Sam relaxed. “Kid, I’ve been meaning to get up and congratulate you—but every time I find you’re on watch. You must live in the Worry Hole.”

“Pretty near. Look, I’ll be off this evening until midnight. What do you say I stop down to see you?” Sam shook his head. “I’ll be busy.”

“Busy how? You expecting a jail break? Or a riot, maybe?”

Sam answered soberly, “Kid, don’t get me wrong—but you stick to your end of the ship and I’ll stick to mine. No, no, keep quiet and listen. I’m as proud as if I had invented you. But you can’t fraternize in crew’s quarters, not even with the Chief Master-at-Arms. Not yet.”

“Who’ll know? Who’s to care?”

“You know blamed well that Giordano would love to tell Kuiper that you didn’t know how to behave like an officer—and Old Lady Kuiper would pass it along to the Purser. Take my advice. Have I ever thrown you a curve?”

Max dropped the matter, though he badly wanted a chin with Sam. He needed to tell him that his faked record had been breached and to consult with him as to probable consequences.

Of course, he considered as he returned to his stateroom, there wasn’t a thing to keep him from carrying out his orginal intention of jumping ship with Sam at Nova Terra—except that it was now no longer possible to imagine it. He was an officer.

They were approaching the middle transition; the control room went on watch-and-watch. But still Dr. Hendrix did not take the watch; Simes and Jones alternated. The Astrogator stood every watch with Max but required him to do the work and carry the responsibility himself. Max sweated it out and learned that practice problems and study of theory were nothing like having it matter when he had no way and no time to check. You had to be right, every time—and there was always doubt.

When, during the last twenty-four hours, the Worry gang went on continuous watch, Max thought that Dr. Hendrix would push him aside. But he did not. Simes was pushed aside, yes, but Max took the worry seat, with Hendrix bending over him and watching everything he did, but not interfering. “Great

heavens!” Max thought. “Surely he isn’t going to let me make this transition? I’m not ready for it, not yet. I’ll never keep up.”

But data was coming too fast for further worry; he had to keep processing it, see the answers, and make decisions. It was not until twenty minutes before transition that Hendrix pushed him aside without a word and took over. Max was still recovering when they burst through into a new sky.

The last approach-and-transition before Halcyon was much like the second. There were a couple of weeks of easy watches, headed by Simes, Jones, and Kovak, with both Kelly and Hendrix getting a little rest. Max liked it, both on and off watch. On watch he continued to practice, trying to achieve the inhuman speed of Dr. Hendrix. Off watch he slept and enjoyed himself. The Bifrost Lounge no longer terrified him. He now played three-dee with Ellie there, with Chipsie on his shoulder, giving advice. Ellie had long since waved her eyes at Captain Blaine and convinced him that a pet so well behaved, so well house-broken, and in particular so well mannered (she had trained the spider puppy to say, “Good morning, Captain,” whenever it saw Blaine)—in all respects so civilized should not be forced to live in a cage.

Max had even learned to swap feeble repartee with Mrs. Daigler, thinking up remarks and waiting for a chance. Ellie was threatening to teach him to dance, although he managed to stall her until resumption of watch-and-watch before transition made it impossible.

Again he found himself shoved into the worry seat for the last part of the approach. This time Dr. Hendrix did not displace him until less than ten minutes before burst through.

On the easy drop down to Halcyon Ellie’s determination won out. Max learned to dance. He found that he liked it. He had good rhythm, did not forget her instructions, and Ellie was a fragrant, pleasant armful. “I’ve done all I can,” she announced at last. “You’re the best dancer with two left feet I’ve ever met.” She required him to dance with Rebecca Weberbauer and with Mrs. Daigler. Mrs. Daigler wasn’t so bad after all, as long as she kept her mouth shut—and Rebecca was cute. He began to look forward to the fleshpots of Halcyon, that being Ellie’s stated reason for instructing him; he was to be conscripted as her escort.

Only one thing marred the final leg; Sam was in trouble. Max did not find out about it until after the trouble broke. He got up early to go on watch and found Sam cleaning decks in the silent passages of passenger quarters. He was in dungarees and wearing no shield. “Sam!”

Sam looked up. “Oh. Hi, kid. Keep your voice down, you’ll wake people.” “But Sam, what in Ned are you doing?”

“Me? I seem to be manicuring this deck.” “But why?”

Sam leaned on his broom. “Well, kid, it’s like this. The Captain and I had a difference of opinion. He won.”

“You’ve been busted?”

“Your intuition is dazzling.” “What happened?”

“Max, the less you know about it the better. Don’t fret. Sic transit gloria mundi—Tuesday is usually worse.”

“But—See here, I’ve got to grab chow and go on watch. I’ll look you up later.” “Don’t.”

Max got the story from Noguchi. Sam, it appeared, had set up a casino in an empty storeroom. He might have gotten away with it indefinitely had it remained a cards-and-dice set up, with a rake off for the house—the “house” being the Chief Master-at-Arms. But Sam had added a roulette wheel and that had been his downfall; Giordano had come to suspect that the wheel had less of the element of chance than was customary in better-run gambling halls—and had voiced his suspicion to Chief Clerk Kuiper. From there events took an inevitable course.

“When did he put in this wheel?”

“Right after we raised from Garson’s Planet.” Max thought uncomfortably of the “tea cozies” he had helped Sam bring aboard there. Noguchi went on, “Uh, didn’t you know, sir? I thought you and him were pretty close before—you know, before you moved up decks.”

Max avoided an answer and dug into the log. He found it under the previous day, added by Bennett to Simes’ log. Sam was restricted to the ship for the rest of the trip, final disciplinary action postponed until return to Terra.

That last seemed to mean that Captain Blaine intended to give Sam a chance to show good behavior before making his recommendation to the guilds—the Captain was a sweet old guy, he certainly was. But “restricted”? Then Sam would never get his chance to run away from whatever it was he was running away from. He located Sam as soon as he was off watch, digging him out of his bunkroom and taking him out into the corridor.

Sam looked at him sourly. “I thought I told you not to look me up?”

“Never mind! Sam, I’m worried about you. This’restricted’ angle… it means you won’t have a chance to—”

“Shut up!” It was a whisper but Max shut up. “Now look here,” Sam went on, “Forget it. I got my stake and that’s the important point.”

“But…”

“Do you think they can seal this ship tight enough to keep me in when I decide to leave? Now stay away from me. You’re teacher’s pet and I want to keep it that way. I don’t want you lectured about bad companions, meaning me.”

“But I want to help, Sam. I…”

“Will you kindly get up above ‘C’ deck where you belong?”

He did not see Sam again that leg; presently he stopped worrying about it. Hendrix required him to compute the planetary approach—child’s play compared with a transition—then placed Max at the conn

when they grounded. This was a titulary responsibility since it was precomputed and done on radar-automatic. Max sat with the controls under his hands, ready to override the autopilot—and

Hendrix stood behind him, ready to override him—but there was no need; the Asgard came down by the plotted curve as easy as descending stairs. The thrust beams bit in and Max reported, “Grounded, sir, on schedule.”

“Secure.”

Max spoke into the ship’s announcers. “Secure power room. Secure all space details. Dirtside routine, second section.”

Of the four days they were there he spent the first three nominally supervising, and actually learning from, Kovak in the routine ninety-day inspection and overhaul of control room instruments. Ellie was vexed with him, as she had had different plans. But on the last day he hit dirt with her, chaperoned by Mr. and Mrs. Mendoza.

It was a wonderful holiday. Compared with Terra, Halcyon is a bleak place and Bonaparte is not much of a city. Nevertheless Halcyon is an earth-type planet with breathable air, and the party from the Asgard had not set foot outdoors since Earthport, months of time and unthinkable light-years behind. The season was postaphelion, midsummer, Nu Pegasi burned warm and bright in blue sky. Mr. Mendoza hired a carriage and they drove out into green, rolling countryside behind four snuffling little Halcyon ponies.

There they visited a native pueblo, a great beehive structure of mud, conoid on conoid, and bought souvenirs—two of which turned out to have “Made in Japan” stamped inconspicuously on them.

Their driver, Herr Eisenberg, interpreted for them. The native who sold the souvenirs kept swiveling his eyes, one after another, at Mrs. Mendoza. He twittered some remarks to the driver, who guffawed. “What does he say?” she asked.

“He was complimenting you.” “So? But how?”

“Well… he says you are for a slow fire and no need for seasoning; you’d cook up nicely. And he’d do it, too,” the colonist added, “if you stayed here after dark.”

Mrs. Mendoza gave a little scream. “You didn’t tell us they were cannibals. Josie, take me back!”

Herr Eisenberg looked horrified. “Cannibals? Oh, no, lady! They don’t eat each other, they just eat us—when they can get us, that is. But there hasn’t been an incident in twenty years.”

“But that’s worse!”

“No, it isn’t, lady. Look at it from their viewpoint. They’re civilized. This old fellow would never break one of their laws. But to them we are just so much prime beef, unfortunately hard to catch.”

“Take us back at once! Why, there are hundreds of them, and only five of us.”

“Thousands, lady. But you are safe as long as Gneeri is shining.” He gestured at Nu Pegasi. “It’s bad juju to kill meat during daylight. The spirit stays around to haunt.”

Despite his reassurances the party started back. Max noticed that Eldreth had been unfrightened. He himself had wondered what had kept the natives from tying them up until dark.

They dined at the Josephine, Bonaparte’s best (and only) hotel. But there was a real three-piece

orchestra, a dance floor, and food that was at least a welcome change from the menus of the Bifrost Lounge. Many ship’s passengers and several officers were there; it made a jolly party. Ellie made Max dance between each course. He even got up his nerve to ask Mrs. Daigler for a dance, once she came over and suggested it.

During the intermission Eldreth steered him out on the adjacent balcony. There she looked up at him. “You leave that Daigler hussy alone, hear me?”

“Huh? I didn’t do anything.”

She suddenly smiled warmly. “Of course not, you big sweet ninny. But Ellie has to take care of you.” She turned and leaned on the rail. Halcyon’s early night had fallen, her three moons were chasing each other. The sky blazed with more stars than can be seen in Terra’s lonely neighborhood. Max pointed out the strange constellations and showed her the departure direction they would take tomorrow to reach transition for Nova Terra. He had learned four new skies so far, knew them as well as he knew the one that hung over the Ozarks—and he would learn many more. He was already studying, from the charts, other skies they would be in this trip.

“Oh, Max, isn’t it lovely!”

“Sure is. Say, there’s a meteor. They’re scarce here, mighty scarce.” “Make a wish! Make a wish quick!”

“Okay.” He wished that he would get off easy when it came to the showdown. Then he decided that wasn’t right; he ought to wish old Sam out of his jam—not that he believed in it, either way.

She turned and faced him. “What did you wish?”

“Huh?” He was suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, mustn’t tell, that spoils it.” “All right. But I’ll bet you get your wish,” she added softly.

He thought for a moment that he could have kissed her, right then, if he had played his cards right. But the moment passed and they went inside. The feeling stayed with him on the ride back, made him elated. It was a good old world, even if there were some tough spots. Here he was, practically a junior astrogator on his first trip—and it hadn’t been more than weeks since he was borrowing McAllister’s mules to work the crop and going barefooted a lot to save shoes.

And yet here he was in uniform, riding beside the best-dressed girl in four planets.

He fingered the insignia on his chest. Marrying Ellie wasn’t such an impossible idea now that he was an officer—if he ever decided to marry. Maybe her old man wouldn’t consider an officer—and an astrogator at that—completely ineligible. Ellie wasn’t bad; she had spunk and she played a fair game of three-dee—most girls wouldn’t even be able to learn the rules.

He was still in a warm glow when they reached the ship and were hoisted in. Kelly met him at the lock. “Mr. Jones—the Captain wants to see you.”

“Huh? Oh. G’night, Ellie—I’ll have to run.” He hurried after Kelly. “What’s up?” “Dr. Hendrix is dead.”

TRANSITION

Max questioned Kelly as they hurried up to the Captain’s cabin.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know, Max.” Kelly seemed close to tears. “I saw him before dinner—he came into the Hole to check what you and Kovak have been doing. He seemed all right. But the Purser found him dead in his bunk, the middle of the evening.” He added worriedly, “I don’t know what is going to happen now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… if I was captain, I’d lay over and send for a relief. But I don’t know.”

For the first time Max realized that this change would make Mr. Simes the astrogator. “How long would it take to get a relief?”

“Figure it out. The Dragon is about three months behind us; she’d pick up our mail. A year about.” In the contradictions of interstellar travel the ships themselves were the fastest method of communication; a radio message (had such a silly thing been attempted) would have taken more than two centuries to reach Earth, a like time for a reply.

Max found the Captain’s cabin open and crowded with officers, all standing around, saying nothing, and looking solemn; he slipped inside without announcing himself and tried to be inconspicuous. Kelly did not go in. Captain Blaine sat at his desk with head bent. Several stragglers, members of the gay party at the Josephine, arrived after Max; First Officer Walther checked them off with his eyes, then said quietly to Blaine, “Ship’s officers all present, sir.”

Captain Blaine raised his head and Max was shocked to see how old he looked. “Gentlemen,” he said in a low voice, “you know the sad news. Dr. Hendrix was found dead in his room this evening. Heart attack. The Surgeon tells me that he passed on about two hours before he was found—and that his death was probably almost painless.”

His voice broke, then he continued. “Brother Hendrix will be placed in his last orbit two hours after we raise ship tomorrow. That is how he would have wished it, the Galaxy was his home. He gave unstintingly of himself that men should ride safely among the stars.”

He paused so long that Max thought that the old man had forgotten that others were present. But when he resumed his voice was almost brisk. “That is all, gentlemen. Astrogators will please remain.”

Max was not sure that he counted as an astrogator but the use of the plural decided him. First Officer Walther started to leave; Blaine called him back. When the four were alone, the Captain said, “Mr.

Simes, you will take over head-of-department duties at once. Mr., uh… “; his eyes rested on Max. “Jones, sir.”

“Mr. Jones will assume your routine duties, of course. This tragedy leaves you short-handed; for the rest of this trip I will stand a regular watch.”

Simes spoke up. “That isn’t necessary, Captain. We’ll make out.”

“Perhaps. But those are my wishes.” “Aye aye, sir.”

“Prepare to lift on schedule. Any questions?” “No, sir.”

“Goodnight, gentlemen. Dutch, stay a moment, please?”

Outside the door Simes started to turn away; Max stopped him. “Mr. Simes?” “Huh? Yes?”

“Any instructions for me, sir?”

Simes looked him over. “You stand your watch, Mister. I’ll handle everything else.”

The next morning Max found a crepe armband on his desk and a notice from the First Officer that mourning would continue for one week. The Asgard raised on schedule, with the Captain sitting quietly in his chair, with Simes at the control console. Max stood near the Captain, with nothing to do. Aside from the absence of Hendrix all was routine—except that Kelly was quite bad-tempered. Simes, Max admitted, handled the maneuver smartly—but it was precomputed, anyone could have done it; shucks, Ellie could have been sitting there. Or Chipsie.

Max had the first watch. Simes left him after enjoining him not to deviate from schedule without phoning him first. An hour later Kovak relieved Max temporarily and Max hurried to the passenger lock. There were five honorary pall bearers, the Captain, Mr. Walther, Simes, Max, and Kelly. Behind them, crowding the passageways, were officers and most of the crew. Max saw no passengers.

The inner door of the lock was opened; two steward’s mates carried the body in and placed it against the outer door. Max was relieved to see that it had been wrapped in a shroud covering it completely. They closed the inner door and withdrew.

The Captain stood facing the door, with Simes and the First Officer standing guard on one side of the door and, on the other side facing them, Max and Kelly. The Captain flung one word over his shoulder: “Pressure!”

Behind stood Bennett wearing a portable phone; he relayed the word to the power room. The pressure gauge over the lock door showed one atmosphere; now it started to crawl upward. The Captain took a little book from his pocket and began to read the service for the dead. Feeling that he could not stand to listen Max watched the pressure gauge. Steadily it climbed. Max reflected that the ship had already passed escape speed for the Nu Pegasi system before he had been relieved; the body would take an open orbit.

The gauge reached ten atmospheres; Captain Blaine closed his book. “Warn the passengers,” he said to Bennett.

Shortly the loudspeakers sounded: “All hands! All passengers! The ship will be in free fall for thirty seconds. Anchor yourselves and do not change position.” Max reached behind him, found one of the many hand holds always present around an airlock and pulled down so that his grip would keep his feet in contact with the deck. A warning siren howled—then suddenly he was weightless as the ship’s boost and the artificial anomalous gravity field were both cut out.

He heard the Captain say loudly and firmly, “‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’ Let the body be cast forth.”

The pressure gauge dropped suddenly to zero and Dr. Hendrix was launched into space, there to roam the stars for all eternity.

Max felt weight again as the power room brought them back to ship-normal. The pressure gauge showed gradually building pressure. People turned away and left, their voices murmuring low. Max went up and relieved the watch.

The following morning Simes moved into Dr. Hendrix’s cabin. There was trouble with First Officer Walther about it—Max heard only third-hand reports—but the Captain upheld Simes; he stayed in the Astrogator’s quarters. The Worry Hole settled into routine not much different from what had gone before, except that Simes’ personality spread through everything. There had never been a posted watch list before; Kelly had always assigned the crewmen and the Doctor had simply informed the top-watch standers orally of his wishes. Now a typed list appeared:

FIRST WATCH Randolph Simes, Astrogator SECOND WATCH Captain Blaine

(M. Jones, acting apprentice, under instruction) THIRD WATCH Kelly, Ch. Cmptrmn. (signed) Randolph Simes, Astrogator

Below was a four-watch list for crewmen, also signed by Simes.

Max looked at it and shrugged it off. It was obvious that Simes had it in for him, though he could not figure out why. It was equally obvious that Simes did not intend to let him do any astrogation and that Max’s chances of being accepted in time as a fullfledged brother had now, with the death of Dr. Hendrix, sunk to zero. Unless, of course, Captain Blaine overrode Simes and forced a favorable report, which was extremely unlikely. Max again began to think of going along with Sam at Nova Terra.

Well, in the meantime he’d stand his watches and try to stay out of trouble. That was that.

There was only one transition to be made between Halcyon and Nova Terra, a leap of ninety-seven light-years three weeks out from Halcyon at a boost of seventeen gravities—the boost always depended on the distance from the star to the gateway, since the purpose was to arrive there just under the speed of light. The Worry Hole stayed on a watch in three for the officers and one in four for crewmen for the first two weeks. Captain Blaine showed up each watch but seemed quite willing for Max to carry out the light duties of that portion of the leg. He gave little instruction—when he did, he was likely to wander off into anecdotes, amusing but not useful.

Max tried to continue his own drill, carrying out the routine middle o’ watch computation as if it were the frantic matter it would have been near transition. Captain Blaine watched him, then said mildly, “Don’t get yourself into a state, son. Always program on paper when possible—always. And take time to check.

Hurrying causes mistakes.” Max said nothing, thinking of Dr. Hendrix, but carried out the orders.

At the end of his first watch under the Captain Max signed the log as usual. When Simes came on watch four hours later, Max was dug out of bed and required to report to the control room. Simes pointed to the log. “What’s the idea, Mister?”

“Of what, sir?”

“Signing the log. You weren’t officer of the watch.”

“Well, sir, the Captain seemed to expect it. I’ve signed a lot of logs and he’s always approved them in the past.”

“Hmm—I’ll speak to the Captain. Go below.”

At the end of his next watch, having received no instructions, Max prepared the log and took it to the Captain. “Sir? Do you want to sign this? Or shall I?”

“Eh?” Blaine looked at it. “Oh, I suppose I had better. Always let a head of department do things his own way if possible. Remember that when you are a skipper, son.” He signed it.

That settled it until the Captain started a habit of not being there, first for short periods, then for longer. The time came when he was absent at the end of the watch; Max phoned Mr. Simes. “Sir, the Captain isn’t here. What do you want me to do?”

“So what? It’s his privilege to leave the control room.”

“But Kelly is ready to relieve and the log isn’t signed. Shall I sign it? Or shall I phone him?” “Phone him? Jumping jeepers, no! Are you crazy?”

“What are your orders, sir?”

Simes was silent, then answered, “Print his name, then sign under it ‘By direction’—and after this use your head.”

They changed to watch-and-watch for the last week. Max continued under the Captain; Kelly assisted Simes. Once the shift was made Blaine became meticulous about being present in the control room and, when Max started to make the first computation, gently pushed him aside. “I had better take over, lad. We’re getting closer now.”

So Max assisted him—and became horrifyingly aware that the Captain was not the man he must once have been. His knowledge of theory was sound and he knew all the short cuts—but his mind tended to wander. Twice in one computation Max had to remind him diplomatically of details. Yet the Old Man seemed unaware of it, was quite cheerful.

It went on that way. Max began to pray that the Captain would let the new Astrogator make the transition himself—much as he despised Simes. He wanted to discuss his misgivings with Kelly—there was no one else with whom it would have been possible—but Kelly was on the opposite watch with Simes. There was nothing to do but worry.

When the last day arrived he discovered that Captain Blaine neither intended to take the ship through himself nor to let Simes do it; he had a system of his own. When they were all in the Worry Hole the Captain said, “I want to show you all a wrinkle that takes the strain out of astrogating. With no reflections on our dear brother, Dr. Hendrix, while he was a great astrogator, none better—nevertheless he worked too hard. Now here is a method taught me by my own master. Kelly, if you will have the remote controls

led out, please.”

He had them seat themselves in a half circle, himself, Simes, and Max, around the saddle of the computer, with Kelly in the saddle. Each of them was armed with programming forms and Captain Blaine held the remote-control switches in his lap. “Now the idea is for us each to work a sight in succession, first me, then Mr. Simes, then Mr. Jones. That way we keep the data flowing without strain. All right, lads, start pitching. Transition stations everyone.”

They made a dry run, then the Captain stood up. “Call me, Mr. Simes, two hours before transition. I believe you and Mr. Jones will find that this method gives you enough rest in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir. But Captain—may I make a suggestion?” “Eh? Certainly, sir.”

“This is a fine system, but I suggest that Kelly be put in the astrogating group instead of Jones. Jones is not experienced. We can put Kovak in the saddle and Lundy on the book.”

Blaine shook his head. “No. Accuracy is everything, sir, so we must have our best operator at the computer. As for Mr. Jones, this is how he must get experience—if he gets rattled, you and I can always fill in for him.” He started to leave, then added, “But Kovak can alternate with Kelly until I return. Mustn’t have anyone getting tired, that way mistakes are made.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Simes said nothing more to Max. They started working sights, alternately, using written programming on printed forms. The sights were coming in on a twenty-minute schedule, giving each of them forty minutes for a problem if he cared to take it. Max began to think that the Captain’s method did have its points.

Certainly Dr. Hendrix had worked himself to death—ships did not wear out but men did.

He had plenty of time to work not only his own problems, but those of Simes. The data came out orally and there was nothing to keep Max from programming Simes’ sights in his head and checking on what went into the computer. So far as he could see Simes was doing all right—though of course there was no real strain involved, not yet.

They ate sandwiches and drank coffee where they sat, leaving their seats only for five minutes or so at a time. Captain Blaine showed up twenty minutes early. He smiled and said cheerily, “Everyone happy and relaxed? Now we really get down to it. I have just time for a cup of coffee.”

A few minutes later he sat down and took over the control switches from Simes. The sights were coming through on a ten-minute schedule now, still ample time. Max continued to work them all, his own on paper and the others in his head. He was always through in time to catch the data for the next sight, program it mentally and check translations as Lundy thumbed the book. It gave him a running picture of how closely they were in the groove, how much hunting they were having to do in approaching their invisible target. It seemed to him that Simes tended to over-correct and that the Captain was somewhat optimistically under-correcting, but neither was so far out as to endanger the ship.

Maybe he was wrong about the Captain—the Old Man seemed to steady down when it mattered. His own corrections, he was glad to see, the Captain applied without question.

After more than an hour with transition forty-five. minutes away Captain Blaine looked up and said, “All right, boys, we’re getting close. Slam them to us as fast as you can now.”

Smythe and Kovak, with Noguchi and Bennett running for them, slipped into high gear; data poured out

in a steady stream. Max continued to work every sight, programming his own in his head and calling off figures faster than he wrote them down. He noticed that Simes was sweating, sometimes erasing and starting over. But the figures Simes called out agreed with what Max thought they should be, from his own mental programming. Captain Blaine seemed relaxed, though he had not speeded up materially and sometimes was still using the computer when Max was ready to pour his sight into it.

At one point Simes spoke too rapidly, slurring his figures, Lundy promptly said, “Repeat, sir!”

“Confound it! Clean out your ears!” But Simes repeated. The Captain glanced up, then bent back to his own problem. As soon as the computer was free Captain Blaine called his own figures to Lundy. Max had already set up the Captain’s sight in his mind, was subconsciously listening while watching Simes.

An alarm bell rang in his mind. “Captain! I don’t check you!” Captain Blaine stopped. “Eh?”

“That program is wrong, sir.”

The Captain did not seem angry. He simply handed his programming board to Simes. “Check me, sir.” Simes glanced quickly at the figures. “I check you, sir!”

Blaine said, “Drop out, Jones. Mr. Simes and I will finish.” “But—”

“Drop out, Mister!”

Max got out of the circle, seething inside. Simes’ check of the Captain’s set up hadn’t meant anything, unless Simes had listened to and remembered (as Max had) the data as it came in. The Captain had transposed an eight and a three in the fifth and sixth decimal places—the set up would look okay unless one knew the correct figures. If Simes had even bothered to check it, he added bitterly.

But Max could not keep from noting and processing the data in his mind. Simes’ next sight should catch the Captain’s error; his correction should repair it. It would be a big correction, Max knew; traveling just under the speed of light the ship clipped a million miles in less than six seconds.

Max could see Simes hesitate as the lights from his next sight popped up on the computer and Lundy translated them back. Why, the man looked frightened! The correction called for would push the ship extremely close to critical speed—Simes paused, then ordered less than half the amount that Max believed was needed.

Blaine applied it and went on with his next problem. When the answer came out the error, multiplied by time and unthinkable velocity, was more glaring than ever. The Captain threw Simes a glance of astonishment, then promptly made a correction. Max could not tell what it was, since it was done without words by means of the switch in his lap.

Simes licked the dryness from his lips. “Captain?”

“Time for just one more sight,” Blaine answered. “I’ll take it myself, Mr. Simes.”

The data were passed to him, he started to lay his problem out on the form. Max saw him erase, then look up; Max followed his gaze. The pre-set on the chronometer above the computer showed the seconds trickling away. “Stand by!” Blaine announced.

Max looked up. The stars were doing the crawling together that marked the last moments before transition. Captain Blaine must have pressed the second switch, the one that would kick them over, while Max was watching, for the stars suddenly blinked out and were replaced instantaneously by another starry firmament, normal in appearance.

The Captain lounged back, looked up. “Well,” he said happily, “I see we made it again.” He got up and headed for the hatch, saying over his shoulder, “Call me when you have laid us in the groove, Mr. Simes.” He disappeared down the hatch.

Max looked up again, trying to recall from the charts he had studied just what piece of this new sky they were facing. Kelly was looking up, too. “Yes, we came through,” Max heard him mutter. “But where?”

Simes also had been looking at the sky. Now he swung around angrily. “What do you mean?” “What I said,” Kelly insisted. “That’s not any sky I ever saw before.”

“Nonsense, man! You just haven’t oriented yourself. Everybody knows that a piece of sky can look strange when you first glance at it. Get out the flat charts for this area; we’ll find our landmarks quickly enough.”

“They are out, sir. Noguchi.”

It took only minutes to convince everyone else in the control room that Kelly was right, only a little longer to convince even Simes. He finally looked up from the charts with a face greenish white. “Not a word to anybody,” he said. “That’s an order—and I’ll bust any man who slips. Kelly, take the watch.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“I’ll be in the Captain’s cabin.” He went below to tell Blaine that the Asgard had come out in unknown space—was lost.

ANYWHERE

Two hours later Max climbed wearily up into the Worry Hole. He had just had a bad half hour, telling the truth as he saw it. Captain Blaine had been disinclined to blame anyone but himself, but had seemed stunned and bewildered. Simes had been nasty. His unstated logic seemed to be that, since it could not possibly be his fault and since it was unthinkable to blame the Captain, it must be Max’s fault. Since Max had been relieved some minutes before transition, his theory seemed to be that Max had caused it by making a disturbance as they were approaching the critical instant—joggled their elbows, so to speak.

Mr. Walther had been present, a mute judge. They spoke of matters’ outside his profession; he had seemed to be studying their faces. Max had stuck doggedly to his story.

He found Kelly still on watch. Kovak and Smythe were taking spectrograms; Noguchi and Lundy were busy with papers. “Want to be relieved?” he said to Kelly.

Kelly looked troubled. “I’m sorry, but you can’t.” “Huh?”

“Mr. Simes phoned while you were on your way up. He says you are not to stand duty until further notice.”

“He did? Well, I’m not surprised.”

“He also said that you were to stay out of the control room.”

Max made a violent statement about Simes. He added, “Well, it was nice while it lasted. Be seeing you.”

He turned away but Kelly stopped him. “Don’t be in a hurry, Max. He won’t be up for a while. I want to know what happened. From the computer I can’t tell what goes on.”

Max told him, drawing on his memory for the figures. Kelly nodded at last. “That confirms what I’ve been able to dig out. The Captain flubbed with a transposition—easy to do. Then Simes didn’t have the guts to make a big correction when it came around to him. But one more thing you don’t know. Neither do they—yet.”

“Huh? What?”

“The power room recorder shows it. Guenther had the watch down there and gave it to me over the phone. No, I didn’t tell him anything was wrong. I just asked for the record; that’s not unusual. By the way, any excitement down below? Passengers blowing their tops?”

“Not when I came up.”

“Won’t be long. They can’t keep this quiet forever. Back to my story—things were already sour but the Captain had one last chance. He applied the correction and a whopping big one. But he applied it with the wrong sign, just backwards.”

Profanity was too weak. All Max could say was, “Oh, my!” “Yeah. Well, there’s the devil to pay and him out to lunch.” “Any idea where we are?”

Kelly pointed to Kovak and Smythe at the spectrostellograph. “They’re fishing, but no bites. Bright stars first, B-types and O’s. But there is nothing that matches the catalogues so far.”

Noguchi and Lundy were using a hand camera. Max asked, “What are they doing?”

“Photographing the records. All of ’em—programming sheets, the rough data from the chartsmen, the computer tape, everything.”

“What good will that do?”

“Maybe none. But sometimes records get lost. Sometimes they even get changed. But not this time. I’m going to have a set of my own.”

The unpleasant implications of Kelly’s comments were sinking into Max’s mind when Noguchi looked up. “That’s all, Boss.”

“Good.” Kelly turned to Max. “Do me a favor. Stick those films in your pocket and take them with you. I want them out of here. I’ll pick them up later.”

“Well… all right.” While Noguchi was unloading the camera Max added to Kelly, “How long do you

think it will take to figure out where we are, checking spectra?”

Kelly looked more troubled than ever. “Max, what makes you think there is anything to find?” “I don’t follow you.”

“Why should anything out there… ” He made a sweeping gesture. “… match up with any charts we’ve got here?”

“You mean,” Max said slowly, “that we might not be in our own galaxy at all? Maybe in another, like the Andromeda Nebula, say?”

“Maybe. But that’s not all. Look, Max, I’m no theoretical physicist, that’s sure, but so far as I know all that theory says is that when you pass the speed of light you have to go out of your own space, somewhere else. You’ve become irrelevant and it won’t hold you. But where you go, unless you are set just right for a Horst congruency, that’s another matter. The theory doesn’t say. Does it?”

Max’s head started to ache. “Gee, I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. But since we weren’t set to duck back into our own space at another point, we may be anywhere. And I mean anywhere. We may be in some other space-time totally unconnected with our own.” He glanced up at the strange stars.

Max went below feeling worse than ever. He passed Simes going up; the Astrogator scowled at him but did not say anything. When Max reached his stateroom he put the films in a drawer—then thought about it, removed the drawer and cached them in dead space behind the drawer.

Max stayed in his room and worried. He fretted over being kept out of the control room, wanting very badly himself to check the sky for known stars. B- and O-type stars—well, that was all right, but there were half a dozen other ways. Globular star clusters, now—they’d be easy to identify; snag four of them and you’d know where you were as clear as reading a street sign. Then it would be just a case of fining it down, because you’d know what to look for and where. After which you’d high-tail it for the nearest charted congruency, whether it took you a week or a year. The ship couldn’t really be lost.

But suppose they weren’t even in the right galaxy?

The thought dismayed him. If that were the case, they’d never get home before the end of time. It was chased out by another thought—suppose Kelly’s suspicion had been correct, that this was an entirely different universe, another system of space and time? What then? He had read enough philosophical fancies to know that there was no theoretical reason for such to be impossible; the Designer might have created an infinity of universes, perhaps all pretty much alike—or perhaps as different as cheese and Wednesday. Millions, billions of them, all side by side from a multidimensional point of view.

Another universe might have different laws, a different speed of light, different gravitational ballistics, a different time rate—why they might get back to find that ten million years had passed and Earth burnt to a cinder!

But the light over his desk burned steadily, his heart pumped as always, obeying familiar laws of hydraulics, his chair pressed up against him—if this was a different sort of space the differences weren’t obvious. And if it was a different universe, there was nothing to be done about it.

A knock came at the door, he let Kelly in and gave him the chair, himself sitting on the bed. “Any news?” “No. Golly I’m tired. Got those pix?”

Max took out the drawer, fished around behind it, gave them to Kelly. “Look, Chief, I got an idea.” “Spill it.”

“Let’s assume that we’re in the right galaxy, because—” “Because if we ain’t, there isn’t any point in trying!”

“Well, yes. All right, we’re in the Milky Way. So we look around, make quick sample star counts and estimate the distance and direction of the center. Then we try to identify spectra of stars in that direction, after deciding what ones we ought to look for and figuring apparent magnitudes for estimated distance. That would…”

“—save a lot of time,” Kelly finished wearily. “Don’t teach your grandpop how to suck eggs. What the deuce do you think I’ve been doing?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s more than our revered boss thought of. While I been trying to work he’s been bellyachin’ around, finding fault, and trying to get me to say that he was dead right in everything—worrying about himself instead of worrying about his ship. Pfui! By the way, he grabbed the records just like I thought he would—’to show the Captain.’ He says.” Kelly stood up. “I’d better go.”

“Don’t rush. I’ll ring for coffee.”

“Running out of my ears now.” Kelly took the films from his pocket and looked at them dutifully. “I had Noggy make two shots of everything; this is a double set. That’s a good hidey-hole you’ve got. What say we stick one set in there and let it cool? Never can tell.”

“Kelly, you aren’t really expecting trouble over those records? Seems to me we’ve got trouble enough with the ship being lost.”

“Huh? Max, you’re going to make a good officer some day. But you’re innocent. Now I’m a suspenders and belt man. I like to take as few chances as possible. Doc Hendrix—rest his soul!—was the same way.” Kelly waited until Max had returned the spare set to the space back of the drawer, then started to leave. He paused.

“One thing I forgot to tell you, Max. We happened to come out pretty close to a star and a G-type at that.”

“Oh.” Max considered it. “Not one we know?”

“Of course not, or I would have said so. Haven’t sized it yet, but figuring normal range in the G’s we could reach it in not less than four weeks, not more than a year, at high boost. Thought you’d like to know.”

“Well, yes. Thanks. But I can’t see that it makes much difference.”

“No? Doesn’t it seem like a good idea to have a Sol-type star, with maybe Earth-type planets around it, not far off?”

“Well…”

“It does to me. The Adam-and-Eve business is rugged at best—and we might be in for a long stay.” With that he left.

No steward’s mate came to tell Max it was time for dinner; when he noticed that it was past time, he went to the lounge. Most of the passengers were already seated, although some were standing around talking. It was impossible to miss the feeling of unrest in the room. Max saw that the Captain was not at his table, nor was Mr. Walther at his. As he headed for his own table a Mr. Hornsby tried to grab his arm. Max shook him off. “Sorry, sir. I’m in a hurry.”

“Wait a minute! I want to ask you…”

“Sorry.” He hurried on and sat down. Chief Engineer Compagnon was not at the table, but the usual passengers were present. Max said, “Good evening,” and reached for his soup spoon, just to keep busy.

There was no soup to be toyed with, nor were there rolls and butter on the table, although it was ten minutes past the hour. Such things simply did not happen in Chief Steward Dumont’s jurisdiction. Come to think about it, Dumont was not in sight.

Mrs. Daigler put a hand on his arm. “Max? Tell me, dear—what is this silly rumor going around?” Max tried to maintain a poker face. “What rumor, ma’am?”

“You must have heard it! After all, you’re in astrogation. They say that the Captain turned the wrong corner or something and that we’re falling into a star.”

Max tried to give a convincing chuckle. “Who told you that? Whoever it was probably couldn’t tell a star from his elbow.”

“You wouldn’t fool your Aunt Maggie?”

“I can assure you positively that the Asgard is not falling into a star. Not even a small star.” He turned in his chair. “But it does look like something’s fallen into the galley. Dinner is awfully late.”

He remained turned, trying to avoid further questions. It did not work. Mr. Arthur called out sharply, “Mr. Jones!”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“Why stall us? I have been informed authoritatively that the ship is lost.” Max tried to look puzzled. “I don’t follow you. We seem to be in it.”

Mr. Arthur snorted. “You know what I mean! Something went wrong with that whatyoumucallit—transition. We’re lost.”

Max put on a school-teacherish manner, ticking off points on his fingers. “Mr. Arthur, I assure you that the ship is in absolutely no danger. As for being lost, I assure you just as firmly that if we are, the Captain neglected to tell me so. I was in the control room at transition and he seemed quite satisfied with it.

Would you mind telling me who has been spreading this story? It’s a serious thing, starting such rumors. People have been known to panic.”

“Well… it was one of the crew. I don’t know his name.”

Max nodded. “I thought so. Now in my experience in space… ” He went on, quoting from his uncle. “… I have learned that the only thing faster than light is the speed with which a story can spread through a ship. It doesn’t have to have any foundation, it spreads just the same.” He looked around again. “I wonder what has happened to dinner? I’d hate to go on watch hungry.”

Mrs. Weberbauer said nervously, “Then we are all right, Maxie?” “We’re all right, ma’am.”

Mrs. Daigler leaned toward him again and whispered, “Then why are you sweating, Max?”

He was saved by a steward’s mate rushing up to the table and starting to deal out plates of soup. Max stopped him when he came around and said quietly, “Jim, where’s Dumont?”

Out of the corner of his mouth the waiter said, “Cooking.” “Huh? Where’s the chef?”

The steward’s mate leaned down and whispered, “Frenchy is boiled as a judge. I guess he couldn’t take it. You know.”

Max let him go. Mr. Arthur said sharply, “What did he tell you?”

“I was trying to find out what went wrong in the galley,” Max answered. “Seems the cook incapacitated himself.” He spooned up a mouthful of the soup. “From the taste I’d say he had burned his thumb in this so-called chowder. Pretty bad, isn’t it?”

Max was saved from further evasions by the arrival of the First Officer. Mr. Walther went to the Captain’s table and banged on a glass with a spoon. “Your attention, please!”

He waited for quiet, then took a paper from his pocket. “I have an announcement to make on behalf of the Captain. Those of you who are familiar with the theory of astrogation are aware that space is changing constantly, due to the motions of the stars, and that consequently no two trips are exactly alike. Sometimes it is necessary, for this reason, to make certain changes in a ship’s routing. Such a circumstance has arisen in this present trip and the Asgard will be somewhat delayed in reaching her next destination. We regret this, but we can’t change the laws of nature. We hope that you will treat it as a minor inconvenience—or even as additional vacation, in the friendly and comfortable atmosphere of our ship. Please remember, too, that the insurance policy accompanying your ticket covers you completely against loss or damage you may be cost through the ship being behind schedule.”

He put away the paper; Max had the impression that he had not actually been reading from it. “That is all that the Captain had to say, but I want to add something myself. It has come to my attention that someone has been spreading silly rumors about this minor change in schedule. I am sorry if any of you have been alarmed thereby and I assure you that I will take very strict measures if the originator can be identified.” He risked a dignified smile. “But you know how difficult it is to trace down a bit of gossip. In any case, I want to assure you all that the Asgard is in no danger of any sort. The old girl was plying space long before any of us were born, she’ll still be going strong after we all die of old age—bless her sturdy bones!” He turned and left at once.

Max had listened in open-mouthed admiration. He came from country where the “whopper” was a respected literary art and it seemed to him that he had never heard a lie told with more grace, never seen one interwoven with truth with such skill, in his life. Piece by piece, it was impossible to say that anything

the First Officer had said was untrue; taken as a whole it was a flat statement that the Asgard was not lost—a lie if he ever heard one. He turned back toward his table mates. “Will someone pass the butter, please?”

Mr. Arthur caught his eye. “And you told us,” he said sharply, “that nothing was wrong!” Mr. Daigler growled, “Lay off him, Arthur. Max did pretty well, under the circumstances.” Mrs. Weberbauer looked bewildered. “But Mr. Walther said that everything was all right?”

Daigler looked at her with compassion. “We’re in trouble, Mama Weberbauer. That’s obvious. But all we can do is keep calm and trust the ship’s officers. Right, Max?”

“I guess that’s right, sir.”

“THIS ISN’T A PICNIC”

Max kept to his room that evening and the next day, wishing neither to be questioned by passengers nor to answer questions about why he had been relieved of duty. In consequence he missed the riot, having slept through it. He first heard of it when the steward’s mate who tended his room showed up with a black eye. “Who gave you the shiner, Garcia?”

“I’m not sure, sir. It happened in the ruckus last night.” “Ruckus? What ruckus?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What happened?”

Garcia Lopez stared at the overhead. “Well—I wouldn’t want to say too much. You know how it is—nobody wants to testify against a mate. No?”

“Who asked you to peach on a mate? You don’t have to mention names—but what happened?”

“Well, sir. Some of those chicos, they ain’t got much sense.” Slowly Max learned that the unrest among the crew had been greater than that among the passengers, possibly because they understand more clearly the predicament. Some of them had consulted with Giordano’s poor-man’s vodka, then had decided to call on the Captain in a body and demand straight talk. The violence had taken place when the master-at-arms had attempted to turn them back at the companionway to “C” deck.

“Anybody hurt?”

“Not what you’d call hurt. Cut up a little. I picked this up… ” He touched his eye tenderly. “… from being too anxious to see what was going on. Slats Kovak busted an ankle.”

“Kovak! Why would he be in it?” It did not make sense that a member of the Worry gang should take part in anything so unreasonable.

“He was coming down, coming off watch, I guess. Maybe he was backing up the constable. Or maybe

he just got caught in the swinging doors. Your friend Sam Anderson was sure in the thick of it.” Sam! Max felt sick at heart—Sam in trouble again! “You’re sure?”

“I was there.”

“Uh, he wasn’t leading it, was he?”

“Oh, you got me wrong, M—Mr. Jones. He settled it. I never see a man who could use his hands like that. He’d grab two of ’em… clop! their heads would come together. Then he would grab two more.”

Max decided to come out of hiding and do two things; look up Kovak, find out how he was and what he might need or want, and second, look up Sam. But before he could leave Smythe arrived with a watch list to initial. He found that he was assigned watch-and-watch with Simes—and that he himself was due on watch immediately. He went up, wondering what had caused Simes to relent.

Kelly was in the control room; Max looked around, did not see Simes. “You got it, Chief?” “Until you relieve me. This is my last watch.”

“How’s that? Are you his pet peeve now?”

“You could say so. But not the way you think, Max. He drew up a watch list with him and me

heel-and-toe. I politely pointed out the guild rules, that I wasn’t being paid to take the responsibility of top watch.”

“Oh, brother! What did he say?”

“What could he say? He could order me in writing and I could accept in writing, with my objection to the orders entered in the log—and his neck is out a yard. Which left him his choice of putting you back on the list, asking the Captain to split it with him, or turning his cap around and relieving himself for the next few weeks. With Kovak laid up it didn’t leave him much choice. You heard about Kovak?”

“Yes. Say, what was that?” Max glanced over where Noguchi was loafing at the computer and lowered his voice. “Mutiny?”

Kelly’s eyes grew round. “Why, as I understand it, sir, Kovak slipped and fell down a companionway.” “Oh. Like that, huh?”

“That’s what it says in the log.”

“Hmm… well, I guess I had better relieve you. What’s the dope?”

They were in orbit under power for the nearby G-type star; the orders were entered in the Captain’s order book… in Simes’ handwriting but with Captain Blaine’s signature underneath. To Max it looked shaky, as if the Old Man had signed it under emotional stress. Kelly had already placed them in the groove. “Have we given up trying to find out where we are?” Max asked.

“Oh, no. Orders are to spend as much time as routine permits on it. But I’ll lay you seven to two you don’t find anything. Max, this is somewhere else entirely.”

“Don’t give up. How do you know?” “I feel it.”

Nevertheless Max spent the watch “fishing.” But with no luck. Spectrograms, properly taken and measured, are to stars what fingerprints are to men; they can be classified and comparisons made with those on file which are most nearly similar. While he found many which matched fairly closely with catalogued spectra, there was always the difference that makes one identical twin not quite like his brother.

Fifteen minutes before the end of the watch he stopped, and made sure that he was ready to be relieved. While waiting he thought about the shenanigan Kelly had pulled to get him back on duty. Good old Kelly! He knew Kelly well enough to know that he must not thank him; to do so would be to attribute to the Chief Computerman a motive which was “improper”—just wink the other eye and remember it.

Simes stomped in five minutes past the hour. He said nothing but looked over the log and records of observations Max had made. Max waited several minutes while growing more and more annoyed. At last he said, “Are you ready to relieve me, sir?”

“All in good time. I want to see first what you’ve loused up this time.” Max kept his mouth shut. Simes pointed at the log where Max had signed it followed by “C.O. o/W.” “That’s wrong, to start with. Add ‘under instruction.'”

Max breathed deeply. “Whose instruction, sir?” “Mine.”

Max hesitated only momentarily before answering, “No, sir. Not unless you are present during my watch to supervise me.”

“Are you defying me?”

“No, sir. But I’ll take written orders on that point… entered in the log.”

Simes closed the log book and looked him slowly up and down. “Mister, if we weren’t short-handed you wouldn’t be on watch. You aren’t ready for a top watch—and it’s my opinion that you won’t ever be.”

“If that’s the way you feel, sir, I’d just as lief go back to chartsman. Or steward’s mate.”

“That’s where you belong!” Simes’ voice was almost a scream. Noguchi had hung around after Lundy had relieved him; they both looked up, then turned their heads away.

Max made no effort to keep his answer private. “Very good, sir. Will you relieve me? I’ll go tell the First Officer that I am surrendering my temporary appointment and reverting to my permanent billet.”

Max expected a blast. But Simes made a visible effort to control himself and said almost quietly, “See here, Jones, you don’t have the right attitude.”

Max thought to himself, “What have I got to lose?” Aloud he said, “You’re the one who doesn’t have the right attitude, sir.”

“Eh? What’s that?”

“You’ve been riding me ever since I came to work in the Hole. You’ve never bothered to give me any instruction and you’ve found fault with everything I did. Since my probationary appointment it’s been four times worse. You came to my room and told me that you were opposed to my appointment, that you didn’t want me…”

“You can’t prove that!”

“I don’t have to. Now you tell me that I’m not fit to stand the watch you’ve just required me to stand. You’ve made it plain that you will never recommend me for permanent appointment, so obviously I’m wasting my time. I’ll go back to the Purser’s gang and do what I can there. Now, will you relieve me, sir?”

“You’re insubordinate.”

“No, sir, I am not. I have spoken respectfully, stating facts. I have requested that I be relieved—my watch was over a good half hour ago—in order that I may see the First Officer and revert to my permanent billet. As allowed by the rules of both guilds,” Max added.

“I won’t let you.”

“It’s my option, sir. You have no choice.”

Simes’ face showed that he indeed had no choice. He remained silent for some time, then said more quietly, “Forget it. You’re relieved. Be back up here at eight o’clock.”

“Not so fast, sir. You have stated publicly that I am not competent to take the watch. Therefore I can’t accept the responsibility.”

“Confound it! What are you trying to do? Blackmail me?

Max agreed in his mind that such was about it, but he answered, “I wouldn’t say so, sir. You can’t have it both ways.”

“Well—I suppose you are competent to stand this sort of watch. There isn’t anything to do, actually.” “Very good, sir. Will you kindly log the fact?”

“Huh?”

“In view of the circumstances, sir, I insist on the letter of the rules and ask you to log it.”

Simes swore under his breath, then grabbed the stylus and wrote quickly. He swung the log book around. There!”

Max read: “M. Jones is considered qualified to stand a top watch in space, not involving anomaly. (s) R. Simes, Astrogator.”

Max noted the reservation, the exception that would allow Simes to keep him from ever reaching permanent status. But Simes had stayed within the law. Besides, he admitted to himself, he didn’t want to leave the Worry gang. He comforted himself with the thought that since they were all lost together it might never matter what Simes recommended.

“Quite satisfactory, sir.”

Simes grabbed the book. “Now get out. See that you’re back here on time.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Max could not refrain from having the last word, standing up to Simes had gone to his head. “Which reminds me, sir: will you please relieve me on time after this?”

“What?”

“Under the law a man can’t be worked more than four hours out of eight, except for a logged emergency.”

“Go below!”

Max went below, feeling both exultant and sick. He had no taste for fights, never had; they left him with a twisted lump inside. He burst into his room, and almost fell over Sam.

“Sam!”

“The same. What’s eating you, boy? You look like the goblins had been chasing you.”

Max flopped on his bunk and sighed. “I feel that way, too.” He told Sam about the row with Simes.

Sam nodded approval. “That’s the way to deal with a jerk like that—insult him until he apologizes. Give him lumps enough times and he’ll eat out of your hand.”

Max shook his head dolefully. “Today was fun, but he’ll find some way to take it out on me. Oh, well!” “Not so, my lad. Keep your nose clean and wait for the breaks. If a man is stupid and

bad-tempered—which he is, I sized him up long ago—if you are smart and keep your temper, eventually

he leaves himself wide open. That’s a law of nature.”

“Maybe.” Max swung around and sat up. “Sam—you’re wearing your shield again.”

Sam stuck his thumb under the badge of office of Chief Master-at-Arms. “Didn’t you notice?” “I guess I was spinning too fast. Tell me about it—did the First decide to forgive and forget?” “Not precisely. You know about that little excitement last night?”

“Well, yes. But I understand that officially nothing happened?” “Correct. Mr. Walther knows when to pull his punches.” “What did happen? I heard you cracked some skulls together.”

“Nothing much. And not very hard. I’ve seen ships where it would have been regarded as healthy exercise to settle your dinner. Some of the lads got scared and that made them lap up happy water. Then a couple with big mouths and no forehead got the inspiration that it was their right to talk to the Captain about it. Being sheep, they had to go in a flock. If they had run into an officer, he could have sent them back to bed with no trouble. But my unfortunate predecessor happened to run into them and told them to disperse. Which they didn’t. He’s not the diplomatic type, I’m afraid. So he hollered, ‘Hey, Rube!’ in his quaint idiom and the fun began.”

“But where do you figure? You came to help him?”

“Hardly. I was standing at a safe distance, enjoying the festivities, when I noticed Mr. Walther’s bedroom slippers coming down the ladder. Whereupon I waded in and was prominent in the ending. The way to win a medal, Max, is to make sure the general is watching, then act.”

Max grinned. “Somehow I hadn’t figured you for the hero type.”

“Heaven forbid! But it worked out. Mr. Walther sent for me, ate me out, told me that I was a scoundrel and a thief and a nogoodnick—then offered me my shield back if I could keep order below decks. I

looked him in the eye, a sincere type look, and told him I would do my best. So here I am.” “I’m mighty pleased, Sam.”

“Thanks. Then he looked me in the eye and told me that he had reason to suspect—as if he didn’t know!—that there might be a still somewhere in the ship. He ordered me to find it, and then destroy any liquor I found.”

“So? How did Mr. Gee take that?”

“Why, Fats and I disassembled his still and took the pieces back to stores, then we locked up his stock in trade. I pleaded with him not to touch it until the ship was out of its mess. I explained that I would break both his arms if he did.”

Max chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re back in good graces. And it was nice of you to come tell me about it.” He yawned. “Sorry. I’m dead for sleep.”

“I’ll vamoose. But I didn’t come to tell you, I came to ask a question.” “Huh? What?”

“Have you seen the Skipper lately?”

Max thought back. “Not since transition. Why?”

“Nor has anyone else. I thought he might be spending his time in the Worry Hole.”

“No. Come to think, he hasn’t been at his table either—at least when I’ve been in the lounge.”

“He’s been eating in his cabin.” Sam stood up. “Very, very interesting. Mmm… I wouldn’t talk about it, Max.”

Simes was monosyllabic when Max relieved him. Thereafter they had no more words; Simes acted as if Max did not exist except for the brief formalities in relieving. The Captain did not show up in the control room. Several times Max was on the point of asking Kelly about it, but each time decided not to. But there were rumors around the ship—the Captain was sick, the Captain was in a coma, Walther and the Surgeon had relieved him of duty, the Captain was constantly at his desk, working out a new and remarkable way to get the ship back to where it belonged.

By now it was accepted that the ship was lost, but the time for hysteria had passed; passengers and crew were calm and there seemed to be general consent that the decision to put down around the solar-type star toward which they were headed was the only reasonable decision. They were close enough now that it had been determined that the star did have planets—no G-class star had ever been found to be without planets, but to pick them up on a stereoplate was consoling.

It came to a choice between planet #3 and planet #4. Bolometric readings showed the star to have a surface temperature slightly over 6000° Kelvin, consistent with its spectrum; it was not much larger than Father Sol; calculated surface temperatures for the third and fourth planets gave a probability that the third might be uncomfortably hot whereas number four might be frigid. Both had atmospheres.

A fast hyperboloid swing past both settled the matter. The bolometer showed number three to be too hot and even number four to be tropical. Number four had a moon which the third did not—another

advantage for four, for it permitted, by examining the satellite’s period, an easy calculation of its mass; from that and its visible diameter its surface gravity was a matter of substitution in classic Newtonian formula… ninety-three percent of Earth-normal, comfortable and rather low in view of its over

ten-thousand-mile diameter. Absorption spectra showed oxygen and several inert gases.

Simes assisted by Kelly placed the Asgard in a pole-to-pole orbit to permit easy examination—Max, as usual, was left to chew his nails.

The Captain did not come to the control room even to watch this maneuver.

They hung in parking orbit while their possible future home was examined from the control room and stared at endlessly from the lounge. It was in the lounge that Ellie tracked Max down. He had hardly seen her during the approach, being too busy and too tired with a continuous heel-and-toe watch and in the second place with much on his mind that he did not want to have wormed out of him. But, once the orbit was established and power was off, under standard doctrine Simes could permit the watch to be taken by crewmen—which he did and again told Max to stay out of the control room.

Max could not resist the fascination of staring at the strange planet; he crowded into the lounge along with the rest. He was standing back and gazing over heads when he felt his arm grabbed. “Where have you been?”

“Working.” He reached out and caressed Chipsie; the spider puppy leaped to his shoulders and started searching him.

“Hmmmph! You don’t work all the time. Do you know that I sent nine notes to your room this past week?”

Max knew. He had saved them but had not answered. “Sorry.”

“Sorry he says. Never mind—Max, tell me all about it.” She turned and looked out. “What have they named it? Is there anybody on it? Where are we going to land? When are we going to land? Max, aren’t you excited?”

“Whew! They haven’t named it yet—we just call it’the planet’ or ‘number four.’ Kelly wants to name it ‘Hendrix.’ Simes is hedging; I think he wants to name it after himself. The Captain hasn’t made any decision that I know of.”

“They ought to name it ‘Truth’ or ‘Hope’ or something like that. Where is the Captain, Max? I haven’t seen the old dear for days.”

“He’s working. This is a busy time for him, of course.” Max reflected that his evasion might be true. “About your other questions, we haven’t seen any signs of cities or towns or anything that looks like civilization.”

“What do you mean by ‘civilization’? Not a lot of dirty old cities surely?”

Max scratched his head and grinned. “You’ve got me. But I don’t see how you could have it, whatever it is, without cities.”

“Why not? Bees have cities, ants have cities, challawabs have cities. None of them is civilized. I can think of a lovely civilization that would just sit around in trees and sing and think beautiful thoughts.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, it would bore me to death. But I can think about it, can’t I? You didn’t say when we were going to land?”

“I don’t know. When they decide it’s safe.”

“I wish they would hurry. Isn’t it thrilling? Just like Robinson Crusoe, or Swiss Family Robinson—I can’t keep those two straight. Or the first men on Venus.”

“They died.”

“So they did. But we won’t, not on—” She waved her hand at the lovely green and blue and cloudy-white globe. “—not on, uh, I’m going to call it ‘Charity’ because that’s what it looks like.”

Max said soberly, “Ellie, don’t you realize this is serious?” He kept his voice low in order not to alarm others. “This isn’t a picnic. If this place doesn’t work out, it might be pretty awful.”

“Why?”

“Look, don’t quote me and don’t talk about it. But I don’t think any of us will ever get home again.”

She sobered momentarily, then shrugged and smiled. “You can’t frighten me. Sure, I’d like to go home—but if I can’t, well, Charity is going to be good to us. I know it.”

Max shut up.

“—OVER A HUNDRED YEARS—”

The Asgard landed on Charity the following day. Eldreth affixed her choice by the statistical process of referring to the planet by that name, assuming that it was official, and repeating it frequently.

When word was passed that landing would commence at noon, ship’s time, Max went to the control room and simply assumed that it was his right to be present. Simes looked at him sourly but said nothing—for an evident reason: Captain Blaine was present.

Max was shocked at his appearance. The Captain seemed to have aged ten to fifteen years since the bad transition. In place of his habitual cheerful expression was one that Max had trouble tagging—until he recalled that he had seen it on horses, on horses too old to work but still working—head bent, eyes dull, mute and resigned against a fate both inescapable and unbearable. The old man’s skin hung loose, as if he had not eaten for days or weeks. He seemed hardly interested in what was going on around him.

He spoke only once during the maneuver. Just before the chronometer showed noon Simes straightened up from the console and looked at his skipper. Blaine lifted his head and said in a hoarse whisper, “Take her down, Mister.”

An Imperial military ship in landing on a strange spot would normally guide a radar-beacon robot down first, then home in on the beacon. But the Asgard was a merchant liner; she expected to land nowhere but at ports equipped with beams and beacons and other aids. Consequently the landing was made blind by precomputed radar-automatic and was planned for an open valley selected by photograph. The planet was densely wooded in most areas, choice was limited.

Simes presented a picture of the alert pilot, hands poised at the controls, eyes on the radar screen portraying the view below them, while racked in front of him were comparison photographs, radar and visual. The let down was without incident; starry black sky gave way to deep purple, then to blue. There was not even a jar as the ship touched, for its private gravity inside its Horstian field kept them from feeling impressed acceleration. Max knew they were down when he saw Simes cut in the thrust beams to cradle the ship upright.

Simes said to the microphone, “Power room, start auxiliaries and secure. All hands, dirtside routine, first section.” He turned to Blaine. “Grounded, Captain.”

Blaine’s lips shaped the words, “Very good, sir.” He got up and shuffled toward the hatch. When he had gone Simes ordered, “Lundy, take stand-by watch. The rest of you clear the control room.”

Max went down with Kelly. When they reached “A” deck Max said grudgingly, “It was a smart landing I’ll have to admit.”

“Thanks,” said Kelly.

Max glanced at him. “So you calculated it?” “I didn’t say that. I just said, ‘Thanks.'”

“So? Well, you’re welcome.” Max felt his weight pulse and suddenly he was a trifle lighter. “They cut the field. Now we’re really down.”

He was about to invite Kelly into his room for the inevitable coffee when the ship’s speakers sounded: “All hands! All passengers! Report to Bifrost Lounge for an important announcement. Those on watch are ordered to listen in by phone.”

“What’s up?” asked Max. “Why wonder? We’ll go see.”

The lounge was crowded with passengers and crew. First Officer Walther stood near the Captain’s table, counting the crowd with his eyes. Max saw him speak to Bennett, who nodded and hurried away. The large view port was across the lounge from Max; he stretched on his toes and tried to see out. All he could see was hilltops and blue sky.

There was a lessening of the murmur of voices; Max looked around to see Bennett preceding Captain Blaine through the crowd. The Captain went to his table and sat down; the First Officer glanced at him, then cleared his throat loudly. “Quiet, please.”

He went on, “I’ve called you together because Captain Blaine has something he wants to say to you.” He stopped and stepped back respectfully.

Captain Blaine slowly stood up, looked uncertainly around. Max saw him square his thin shoulders and lift his head. “Men,” he said, his voice suddenly firm and strong. “My guests and friends—” he went on, his voice sinking. There was a hush in the lounge, Max could hear the Captain’s labored breathing. He again asserted control of himself and continued, “I have brought you… I have brought you as far as I can… ” His voice trailed off. He looked at them for a long moment, his mouth trembling. It seemed impossible for him to continue. The crowd started to stir.

But he did continue and they immediately quieted. “I have something else to say,” he began, then paused. This pause was longer, when he broke it his voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry. God keep you all.” He

turned and started for the door.

Bennett slipped quickly in front of him. Max could hear him saying quietly and firmly: “Gangway, please. Way for the Captain.” No one said anything until he was gone, but a woman passenger at Max’s elbow was sobbing softly.

Mr. Walther’s sharp, clear voice rang out. “Don’t go away, anyone! I have additional announcements to make.” His manner ignored what they had all just seen. “The time has come to sum up our present situation. As you can see, this planet is much like our Mother Earth. Tests must be made to be sure that the atmosphere is breathable, and so forth; the Surgeon and the Chief Engineer are making them now. But it seems likely that this new planet will prove to be eminently suitable for human beings, probably even more friendly than Earth.

“So far, we have seen no indications of civilized life. On the whole, that seems a good thing. Now as to our resources—The Asgard carries a variety of domestic animals, they will be useful and should be conserved as breeding stock. We have an even wider variety of useful plants, both in the ship’s hydroponic gardens and carried as seeds. We have a limited but adequate supply of tools. Most important of all the ship’s library contains a fair cross-section of our culture. Equally important, we ourselves have our skills and traditions…”

“Mr. Walther!”

“Yes, Mr. Hornsby?”

“Are you trying to tell us that you are dumping us here?”

Walther looked at him coldly. “No. Nobody is being’dumped’ as you put it. You can stay in the ship and you will be treated as a guest as long as the Asgard—or you yourself—is alive. Or until the ship reaches the destination on your ticket. If it does. No, I have been trying to discuss reasonably an open secret; this ship is lost.”

A voiceless sigh went through the room. All of them knew it, but up till now it had not been admitted officially. The flat announcement from a responsible officer echoed like the sentence of a court.

“Let me state the legal position,” Mr. Walther went on. “While this ship was in space you passengers were subject to the authority of the Captain, as defined by law, and through him you were subject to me and the other ship’s officers. Now we have landed. You may go freely… or you may stay. Legally this is an unscheduled stopover; if the ship ever leaves here you may return to it and continue as passengers.

That is my responsibility to you and it will be carried out. But I tell you plainly that at present I have no hope to offer that we will ever leave here—which is why I spoke of colonizing. We are lost.”

In the rear of the room a woman began to scream hysterically, with incoherent sounds of, “… home! I want to go home! Take me…”

Walther’s voice cut through the hubbub. “Dumont! Flannigan! Remove her. Take her to the Surgeon.”

He continued as if nothing had happened. “The ship and the ship’s crew will give every assistance possible, consistent with my legal responsibility to keep the ship in commission, to aid any of you who wish to colonize. Personally I think…”

A surly voice cut in, “Why talk about ‘law’? There is no law here!”

Walther did not even raise his voice. “But there is. As long as this ship is in commission, there is law, no matter how many light-years she may be from her home port. Furthermore, while I have no authority

over any who choose to leave the ship, I strongly advise you to make it your first act dirtside to hold a town meeting, elect officers, and found a constitutional government. I doubt that you can survive otherwise.”

“Mr. Walther.” “Yes, Mr. Daigler?”

“This is obviously no time for recriminations…” “Obviously!”

Daigler grinned wryly. “So I won’t indulge, though I could think of some. But it happens that I know something professionally about the economics of colonizing.”

“Good! We’ll use your knowledge.”

“Will you let me finish? A prime principle in maintaining a colony out of touch with its supply base is to make it large enough. It’s a statistical matter, too small a colony can be overwhelmed by a minor setback. It’s like going into a dice game with too little money: three bad rolls and you’re sunk. Looking around me, it’s evident that we have much less than optimal minimum. In fact—”

“It’s what we have, Mr. Daigler.”

“I see that. I’m not a wishful thinker. What I want to know is, can we count on the crew as well?”

Mr. Walther shook his head. “This ship will not be decommissioned as long as there are men capable of manning it. There is always hope, no matter how small, that we may find a way home. It is even possible that an Imperial survey ship might discover us. I’m sorry—no.”

“That isn’t quite what I asked. I was two jumps ahead of you, I figured you wouldn’t let the crew colonize. But can we count on their help? We seem to have about six females, give or take one, who will probably help to carry on the race. That means that the next generation of our new nation is going to be much smaller. Such a colony would flicker and die, by statistical probability—unless every man jack of us works ten hours a day for the rest of his life, just to give our children a better chance of making it. That’s all right with me, if we all make an all-out try. But it will take all the manpower we have to make sure that some young people who aren’t even born yet get by thirty years from now. Will the crew help?”

Mr. Walther said quietly, “I think you can count on it.” “Good enough.”

A small, red-faced man whose name Max had never learned interrupted. “Good enough, my eye! I’m going to sue the company, I’m going to sue the ship’s officers individually. I’m going to shout it from the… ” Max saw Sam slipping through the crowd to the man’s side, the disturbance stopped abruptly.

“Take him to the Surgeon,” Mr. Walther said wearily. “He can sue us tomorrow. The meeting is adjourned.”

Max started for his room. Eldreth caught up with him. “Max! I want to talk with you.” “All right.” He started back toward the lounge.

“No, I want to talk privately. Let’s go to your room.”

“Huh? Mrs. Dumont would blow her top, then she’d tell Mr. Walther.”

“Bother with all that! Those silly rules are dead. Didn’t you listen at the meeting?” “You’re the one who didn’t listen.”

He took her firmly by the arm, turned her toward the public room. They ran into Mr. and Mrs. Daigler coming the other way. Daigler said, “Max? Are you busy?”

“Yes,” answered Eldreth. “No,” said Max.

“Hmm… you two had better take a vote. I’d like to ask Max some questions. I’ve no objection to your being with us, Eldreth, if you will forgive the intrusion.

She shrugged. “Oh, well, maybe you can handle him. I can’t.”

They went to the Daiglers’ stateroom, larger and more luxurious than Max’s and possessing two chairs. The two women perched on the bed, the men took the chairs. Daigler began, “Max, you impress me as a man who prefers to give a straight answer. There are things I want to know that I didn’t care to ask out there. Maybe you can tell me.”

“I will if I can.”

“Good. I’ve tried to ask Mr. Simes, all I get is a snottily polite brush off. I haven’t been able to get in to see the Captain—after today I see that there wouldn’t have been any point anyhow. Now, can you tell me, with the mathematics left out, what chance we have to get home? Is it one in three, or one in a thousand—or what?”

“Uh, I couldn’t answer it that way.” “Answer it your own way.”

“Well, put it this way. While we don’t know where we are, we know positively where we aren’t. We aren’t within, oh, say a hundred light-years of any explored part of the Galaxy.”

“How do you know? It seems to me that’s a pretty big space to be explored in the weeks since we got off the track.”

“It sure is. It’s a globe twelve hundred trillion miles thick. But we didn’t have to explore it, not exactly.” “Then how?”

“Well, sir, we examined the spectra of all first magnitude stars in sight—and a lot more. None of them is in our catalogues. Some are giants that would be first magnitude anywhere within a hundred light-years of them—they’d be certain to be in the catalogues if a survey ship had ever been that close to them. So we are absolutely certain that we are a long, long way from anywhere that men have ever been before.

Matter of fact, I spoke too conservatively. Make it a globe twice as thick, eight times as big, and you’d still be way over on the conservative side. We’re really lost.”

“Mmm… I’m glad I didn’t ask those questions in the lounge. Is there any possibility that we will ever know where we are?”

“Oh, sure! There are thousands of stars left to examine. Chief Kelly is probably shooting one this minute.”

“Well, then, what are the chances that we will eventually find ourselves?”

“Oh, I’d say they were excellent—in a year or two at the outside. If not from single stars, then from globular star clusters. You realize that the Galaxy is a hundred thousand light-years across, more or less, and we can see only stars that are fairly close. But the globular clusters make good landmarks, too.” Max added the mental reservation, if we aren’t in the wrong galaxy. There seemed no point in burdening them with that dismaying possibility.

Daigler relaxed and took out a cigar. “This is the last of my own brand, but I’ll risk smoking it now. Well, Maggie, I guess you won’t have to learn how to make soap out of wood ashes and hog drippings after all. Whether it’s one year or five, we can sweat it out and go home.”

“I’m glad.” She patted her ornate coiffure with soft, beautifully manicured hands. “I’m hardly the type for it.”

“But you don’t understand!” “Eh? What’s that, Max?”

“I didn’t say we could get back. I just said I thought it was fairly certain we would find out where we are.”

“What’s the difference? We find out, then we go home.”

“No, because we can’t be less than a hundred light-years from explored space.”

“I don’t see the hitch. This ship can do a hundred light-years in a split second. What was the longest leap we made this cruise? Nearly five hundred light-years, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but—” Max turned to Eldreth. “You understand? Don’t you?” “Well, maybe. That folded-scarf thing you showed me?”

“Yes, yes. Mr. Daigler, sure the Asgard can transit five hundred light-years in no time—or any other distance. But only at calculated and surveyed congruencies. We don’t know of any within a hundred light-years, at least… and we won’t know of any even if we find out where we are because we know where we aren’t. Follow me? That means that the ship would have to travel at top speed for something over a hundred years and maybe much longer, just for the first leg of the trip.”

Mr. Daigler stared thoughtfully at his cigar ash, then took out a pen knife and cut off the burning end. “I’ll save the rest. Well, Maggie, better study up on that homemake soap deal. Thanks, Max. My father was a farmer, I can learn.”

Max said impulsively, “I’ll help you, sir.”

“Oh yes, you did tell us that you used to be a farmer, didn’t you? You should make out all right.” His eyes swung to Eldreth. “You know what I would do, if I were you kids? I’d get the Captain to marry you right away. Then you’d be all set to tackle colonial life right.”

Max blushed to his collar and did not look at Ellie. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m a crew member, I’m not eligible to colonize.”

Mr. Daigler looked at him curiously. “Such devotion to duty. Well, no doubt Ellie can take her pick among the single men passengers.”

Eldreth smoothed her skirt demurely. “No doubt.” “Come, Maggie. Coming, Eldreth?”

CHARITY

“Charityville” was a going concern within a week. It had a mayor, Mr. Daigler, a main street, Hendrix Avenue, even its first wedding, performed by the mayor in the presence of the villagers—Mr. Arthur and little Becky Weberbauer. The first cottage, now building, was reserved for the newlyweds. It was a log cabin and a very sloppy job, for, while there were those among them who had seen pictures or had even seen log cabins, there was no one who had ever built one before.

There was an air of hope, of common courage, even of gaiety in the new community. The place was fragrant with new starts, forward-looking thoughts. They still slept in the ship and breakfasted there, then carried their lunches and labored mightily, men and women alike, through the short day—Charity spun on her axis in twenty-one-plus hours. They returned at nightfall, dined in the ship, and some found energy to dance a bit before going to bed.

Charity seemed to be all that her name implied. The days were balmy, the nights were mild—and beautiful beyond anything yet found in the Galaxy. Its star (they simply called it “the Sun”) was accompanied by more comets than had yet been seen around any star. A giant with a wide tail stretched from zenith to western horizon, diving at their Sun. Another, not yet so grand but awesome enough to have caused watchers for the end of the world on Earthly hilltops, approached from the north, and two more decorated the southern sky with lace of icy fire.

Concomitant with comets was, necessarily, an equal abundance of meteors. Every night was a shower of falling stars, every day ended like Solar Union Day with a display of fireworks.

They had seen no dangerous animals. Some of the settlers reported seeing centaurlike creatures about the size of Shetland ponies, but they seemed timid and had scurried away when discovered. The prevalent life form appeared to be marsupial mammals in various sizes and shapes. There were no birds, but there was another sort of flying life not found elsewhere—jellyfishlike creatures four or five feet high with dangling tendrils, animated balloons. They appeared to have muscular control over their swollen bladders for they could rise and fall, and could even, by some not evident means, go upwind against a gentle breeze—in higher winds they anchored to treetops, or floated free and let the wind carry them.

They seemed curious about Charityville and would hang over a work site, turning slowly around as if to see everything. But they never got within reach. Some of the settlers wanted to shoot one down and examine it; Mayor Daigler forbade it.

There was another animal too—or might be. They were called “peekers” because all that anyone had seen was something that ducked quickly behind a rock or tree when anyone tried to look. Between the possibly mythical peeker and the ubiquitous balloons the colonists felt that their new neighbors took a deep but not unfriendly interest in what they were doing.

Maggie Daigler—she was “Maggie” to everyone now—had put away her jewels, drawn dungarees from ship’s stores, and chopped off her hair. Her nails were short and usually black with grime. But she looked years younger and quite happy.

In fact, everyone seemed happy but Max.

Ellie was avoiding him. He cursed himself and his big mouth thrice daily and four times at night. Sure, Daigler had spoken out of turn—but was that any reason for him to open his mouth and put his foot in it? Of course, he had never figured on marrying Ellie—but shucks, maybe they were stuck here forever. “Probably,” not “maybe,” he corrected. The ban on joining the colony would be let up in time—in which case, what was the sense in getting in bad with the only eligible girl around?

An astrogator ought to be a bachelor but a farmer needed a wife. Mighty nice to have some one cooking the turnip greens and jointing a chicken while a man was out in the fields. He ought to know—Maw had let it slide often enough. Ellie wouldn’t be like Maw. She was strong and practical and with just a little teaching would do all right.

Besides she was about the prettiest thing he ever saw, if you looked at her right.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dumont, by special dispensation, joined the colony it caused him to act. Since the steward and stewardess would have no duties in a ship without passengers no one could reasonably object—but it gave Max an approach. He went to see the First Officer.

“Probationary Apprentice Jones, sir.”

Walther glanced up. “I think I’d say ‘Assistant Astrogator Jones’ if I were you. Closer to the facts. Come in.”

“Uh, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about, sir.” “So? How?”

“I want to revert to my billet.”

“Eh? Why would you rather be a chartsman than an astrogator? And what difference does it make—now?”

“No, sir. I’m electing to resume my permanent appointment, steward’s mate third.” Walther looked amazed. “There must be more to this. Explain yourself.”

With much stammering Max explained his trouble with Simes. He tried to be fair and finished with the dismal feeling that he had sounded childish. Walther said, “You’re sure about this? Mr. Simes has said nothing to me about you.”

“He wouldn’t, sir. But it’s true. You can ask Kelly.”

Walther thought for a while. “Mr. Jones, I wouldn’t attach too much importance to this. At your age these conflicts of personality often seem more serious than they are. My advice is to forget it and do your work. I’ll speak to Mr. Simes about his keeping you out of the control room. That isn’t proper and I am surprised to hear it.”

“No, sir.”

“‘No, sir’ what?”

“I want to return to steward’s mate.” “Eh? I don’t understand you.”

“Because, sir, I want to join the colony. Like Chief Steward Dumont.”

“Oh… A light begins to dawn.” Walther slapped the desk emphatically. “Absolutely no! Under no circumstances.”

“Sir?”

“Please understand me. This is not discrimination. If you were a steward’s mate and nothing else, I would consider your request—under the special circumstances which I believe pertain. But you are an astrogator. You know our situation. Dr. Hendrix is dead. Captain Blaine—well, you have seen him. He may recover, I cannot plan on it. Mr. Jones, as long as there is any faint hope that this ship will ever lift again, as long as we have crew to work her, no astrogator, no chartsman, no computerman will be relieved from duty for any reason whatsoever. You see that, don’t you?”

“I guess so, sir. Uh, aye aye, sir.”

“Good. By the way, keep this to yourself, but as soon as the colony can get along without us temporarily, I want the ship placed in a parking orbit so that you specialists can maintain a search. You can’t work very well through this atmosphere, can you?”

“No, sir. Our instruments were designed for open space.”

“So we must see that you get it.” The First Officer sat silent, then added, “Mr. Jones—Max, isn’t it? May I speak to you man to man?”

“Uh? Certainly, sir.”

“Mmm… Max, this is none of my business, but treat it as fatherly advice. If you have an opportunity to marry—and want to—you don’t have to join the colony to do it. If we stay, it won’t matter in the long run whether you are crew or a charter member of the village. If we leave, your wife goes with you.”

Max’s ears burned. He could think of nothing to say.

“Hypothetical question, of course. But that’s the proper solution.” Walther stood up. “Why don’t you take the day off? Go take a walk or something. Fresh air will do you good. I’ll speak to Mr. Simes.”

Instead, Max went looking for Sam, did not find him in the ship, discovered that he had gone dirtside. He followed him down and walked the half mile to Charityville.

Before he reached the building that was being worked on he saw a figure separate itself from the gang. He soon saw that it was Eldreth. She stopped in front of him, a sturdy little figure in dirty dungarees. She planted her feet and set fists on her hips.

“Uh, howdy, Ellie.”

“Up to your old tricks! Avoiding me. Explain yourself.”

The injustice of it left him stuttering. “But… Now see here, Ellie, it’s not that way at all. You’ve been…”

“A likely story. You sound like Chipsie caught with her hand in a candy dish. I just wanted to tell you, you reluctant Don Juan, that you have nothing to worry about. I’m not marrying anyone this season. So you can resume the uneven tenor of your ways.”

“But, Ellie… ” he started desperately.

“Want me to put it in writing? Put up a bond?” She looked fiercely at him, then began to laugh, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, Max, you large lout, you arouse the eternal maternal in me. When you are upset your face gets as long as a mule’s. Look, forget it.”

“But, Ellie… Well, all right.” “Pals?”

“Pals.”

She sighed. “I feel better. I don’t know why, but I don’t like to be on the outs with you. Where were you going?”

“Uh, nowhere. Taking a walk.”

“Fine. I’ll go too. Half a sec while I gather in Chipsie.” She turned and called, “Mister Chips! Chipsie!” “I don’t see her.”

“I’ll get her.” She ran off, to return quickly with the spider puppy on her shoulder and a package in her hand. “I picked up my lunch. We can split it.”

“Oh, we won’t be gone that long. Hi, Chipsie baby.” “Hi, Max. Candy?”

He dug into a pocket, found a sugar cube that he had saved several days ago for the purpose; the spider puppy accepted it gravely and said, “Thank you.”

“Yes, we will,” Ellie disagreed, “because some of the men saw a herd of those centaur ponies the other side of that ridge. It’s quite a hike.”

“I don’t think we ought to go that far,” he said doubtfully. “Won’t they miss you?”

“I’ve been doing my share. See my callouses?” She stuck out a grimy paw. “I told Mr. Hornsby that I was suddenly come down with never-get-overs and he would have to find somebody else to hold while he hammered.”

He was pleased to give in. They went up rising ground and into an arroyo and soon were in a grove of primitive conifers. Mr. Chips jumped down from Ellie’s shoulders and scurried up a tree. Max stopped. “Hadn’t we better catch her?”

“You worry too much. Chipsie wouldn’t run away. She’d be scared to death. Chipsie! Here, honey!”

The spider puppy hustled through branches, got directly above them, dropped a cone on Max. Then she laughed, a high giggle. “See? She just wants to play.”

The ridge was high and Max found that his hillbilly’s wind had been lost somewhere among the stars. The arroyo meandered slowly upwards. He was still woodsman enough to keep a sharp eye out for landmarks and directions. At weary last they topped the crest. Ellie paused. “I guess they’re gone,” she said disappointedly, staring out over flatter country below them. “No! Look over there. See them! About two dozen little black dots.”

“Uh huh. Yeah.”

“Let’s go closer. I want a good look.”

“I wonder if that’s smart? We’re a far piece from the ship and I’m not armed.” “Oh, they’re harmless.”

“I was thinking of what else might be in these woods.”

“But we’re already in the woods, and all we’ve seen are the hobgoblins.” She referred to the balloonlike creatures, two of which had trailed them up the arroyo. The humans had grown so used to their presence that they no longer paid them any attention.

“Ellie, it’s time we went back.” “No.”

“Yes. I’m responsible for you. You’ve seen your centaurs.”

“Max Jones, I’m a free citizen. You may be starting back; I’m going to have a close look at those underslung cow ponies.” She started down.

“Well—Wait a moment. I want to get my bearings.” He took a full look around, fixed the scene forever in his mind, and followed her. He was not anxious to thwart her anyhow; he had been mulling over the notion that this was a good time to explain why he had said what he had said to Mr. Daigler—and perhaps lead around to the general subject of the future. He wouldn’t go so far as to talk about marriage—though he might bring it up in the abstract if he could figure out an approach.

How did you approach such a subject? You didn’t just say, “There go the hobgoblins, let’s you and me get married!”

Ellie paused. “There go the hobgloblins. Looks as if they were heading right for the herd.” Max frowned. “Could be. Maybe they talk to them?”

She laughed. “Those things?” She looked him over carefully. “Maxie, I’ve just figured out why I bother with you.”

Huh? Maybe she was going to lead up to it for him. “Why?”

“Because you remind me of Putzie. You get the same puzzled look he does.” “‘Putzie?’ Who is Putzie?”

“Putzie is the man my father shipped me off to Earth to get me away from—and the reason I crushed out of three schools to get back to Hespera. Only Daddy will probably have shipped him off, too. Daddy is tricky. Come here, Chipsie. Don’t go so far.”

She continued, “You’ll love Putzie. He’s nice. Stop it, Chipsie.”

Max despised the man already. “I don’t like to fret you,” he said, “but it’s a long way to Hespera.”

“I know. Let’s not borrow trouble.” She looked him over again. “I might keep you in reserve, if you weren’t so jumpy.”

Before he could think of the right answer she had started down.

The centaurs—it seemed the best name, though the underparts were not much like horses and the parts that stuck up were only vaguely humanoid—clustered near the foot of the hill, not far out from the trees. They weren’t grazing, it was hard to tell what they were doing. The two hobgoblins were over the group, hovering as if in interest just as they did with humans. Ellie insisted on going to the edge of the clearing to see them better.

They reminded Max of clowns made up to look like horses. They had silly, simple expressions and apparently no room for a brain case. They appeared to be marsupials, with pouches almost like bibs. Either they were all females or with this species the male had a pouch too. Several little centaurs were cavorting around, in and out the legs of their elders.

One of the babies spied them, came trotting toward them, sniffling and bleating. Behind it the largest adult pulled out of the herd to watch the young one. The colt scampered up and stopped about twenty feet away.

“Oh, the darling!” Ellie said and ran out a few feet, dropped to one knee. “Come here, pet. Come to mama.”

Max started for her. “Ellie! Come back here!”

The large centaur reached into its pouch, hauled out something, swung it around its head like a gaucho’s throwing rope. “Ellie!”

He reached her just as it let go. The thing struck them, wound around and held them. Ellie screamed and Max struggled to tear it loose—but they were held like Laocoön.

Another line came flying through the air, clung to them. And another.

Mr. Chips had followed Ellie. Now she skittered away, crying. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and shrilled, “Max! Ellie! Come back. Please back!”

CIVILIZATION

Ellie did not faint nor grow hysterical. After that involuntary scream, her next remark was simply, “Max, I’m sorry. My fault.”

The words were almost in his ear, so tightly were they tied together by the clinging ropes. He answered, “I’ll get us loose!” and continued to strain at their bonds.

“Don’t struggle,” she said quietly, “It just makes them tighter. We’ll have to talk our way out of this.”

What she said was true; the harder he strained the tighter the pythonlike bonds held them. “Don’t,” Ellie pleaded. “You’re making it worse. It’s hurting me.” Max desisted.

The largest centaur ambled up and looked them over. Its broad simple face was still more ludicrous close up and its large brown eyes held a look of gentle astonishment. The colt approached from the other side and sniffed curiously, bleated in a high voice. The adult bugled like an elk; the colt shied sideways, then rejoined the herd on a dead run.

“Take it easy,” Ellie whispered. “I think they were scared that we would hurt the baby. Maybe they’ll just look us over and let us go.”

“Maybe. But I wish I could get at my knife.” “I’m glad you can’t. This calls for diplomacy.”

The rest of the herd came up, milled around and looked them over, while exchanging calls that combined bugling, whinnying, and something between a cough and a snort. Max listened. “That’s language,” he decided.

“Of course. And how I wish I had studied it at Miss Mimsey’s.”

The largest centaur leaned over them, smoothed at their bonds; they became looser but still held them. Max said sharply, “I think they are going to untie us. Get ready to run.”

“Yes, boss.”

Another centaur reached into its built-in pouch, took out another of the ropelike things. It dropped to its fore knees, flipped the end so that it curled around Max’s left ankle. The end seemed to weld into a loop, hobbling Max as effectively as a bowline knot; Ellie was treated the same way. The biggest centaur then patted their bonds, which fell off and writhed gently on the ground. It picked them up and stuffed them into its pouch.

The centaur which had hobbled them wrapped the ends of their tethers around its upright trunk, they merged into a belt. After an exchange of sour bugle calls with the leader, it patted the leashes… which then stretched like taffy, becoming quite twenty feet long and much more slender. Max pressed his knife on Ellie and said, “Try to cut yourself loose. If you can, then run for it. I’ll keep them busy.”

“No, Max.”

“Yes! Dawggone it, quit being a brat! You’ve made enough trouble.”

“Yes, Max.” She took the knife and tried to saw through the strange rope near her ankle. The centaurs made no attempt to stop her, but watched with the same air of gentle astonishment. It was as if they had never seen a knife, had no notion of what one was. Presently she gave up. “No good, Max. It’s like trying to slice duraplastic.”

“Why, I keep that knife like a razor. Let me try.”

He had no better luck. He was forced to stop by the herd moving out—walk or be dragged. He managed to close the knife while hopping on one foot to save his balance. The group proceeded at a slow walk for a few steps, then the leader bugled and the centaurs broke into a trot, exactly like ancient cavalry.

Ellie stumbled at once and was dragged. Max sat down, managed to grab his hobble and hang on while shouting, “Hey! Stop!”

Their captor stopped and looked around almost apologetically. Max said, “Look, stupid. We can’t keep up. We’re not horses,” while helping Ellie to her feet. “Are you hurt, kid?”

“I guess not.” She blinked back tears. “If I could lay hands on that hay-burning oaf, he’d be hurt—plenty!”

“You skinned your hand.”

“It won’t kill me. Just tell him to slow down, will you?”

Seeing them on their feet the monster immediately started to trot again. Down they went again, with Max trying to drag them to a halt. This time the leader trotted back from the main herd and consulted their custodian. Max took part, making up in vehemence what he lacked in semantic efficiency.

Perhaps he was effective; their keeper slowed to a fast walk, letting the others go ahead. Another centaur dropped back and became a rear guard. One of the animated balloons, which had continued to hover over the herd, now drifted back and remained over Max and Ellie.

The pace was just bearable, between a fast walk and a dogtrot. The route led across the open, flat floor of the valley and through knee-high grass. The grass saved them somewhat, as the centaur leading them seemed to feel that a fall or two every few hundred yards represented optimum efficiency. He never seemed impatient and would stop and let them get up, but always started off again at a clip brisk for humans. Max and Ellie ceased trying to talk, their throats being burned dry by their panting efforts to keep up. A tiny stream meandered through the bottom of the valley; the centaur jumped easily across it. It was necessary for the humans to wade. Ellie paused in midstream, leaned down and started to drink. Max objected, “Ellie! Don’t drink that—you don’t know that it’s safe.”

“I hope it poisons me so I can lie down and die. Max, I can’t go much farther.”

“Chin up, kid. We’ll get out of this. I’ve been keeping track of where we’ve gone.” He hesitated, then drank also, being terribly thirsty. The centaur let them, then tugged them on.

It was as far again to the rising ground and forest on the other side. They had thought that they were as tired as they could be before they started up hill; they were mistaken. The centaur was agile as a goat and seemed surprised that they found it difficult. Finally Ellie collapsed and would not get up; the centaur came back and stirred her roughly with a three-toed hoof.

Max struck him with both fists. The centaur made no move to retaliate but looked at him with that same stupid astonishment. Their rear guard came up and conversed with it, after which they waited for perhaps ten minutes. Max sat down beside Ellie and said anxiously, “Feeling any better?”

“Don’t talk.”

Presently the guard edged between them and drove Max back by stepping on him, whereupon the other centaur tugged on Ellie’s leash. It contracted and she was forced to scramble to her feet. The centaurs let them rest twice after that. After an endless time, when the local sun was dropping low in the west, they came out on flat table land, still heavily wooded. They continued through trees for a distance which Max’s count of paces told him was under a mile but seemed like ten, then stopped.

They were in a semi-clearing, a space carpeted with fallen needles. Their guard came up to the other centaur and took from him the end of Max’s leash, flipped it around the base of a tree, to which it clung. The other centaur did the same with Ellie’s leash to another tree about forty feet away. Having done so, they roughly urged the two together, while stopping to stroke their bonds until they were stretched out very thin. It allowed Max and Ellie enough slack that they might have passed each other.

This did not seem to please the centaurs. One of them shifted Max’s leash farther back into the surrounding bushes, dragging him with it. This time at the extreme limit allowed by their bonds they were

about six feet apart. “What are they doing?” asked Ellie. “Looks like they don’t want us to combine forces.”

Finished, the centaurs trotted away. Ellie looked after them, began to sob, then cried openly, tears running down her dirty face and leaving tracks. “Stow it,” Max said harshly. “Sniffling will get us nowhere.”

“I can’t help it,” she bawled. “I’ve been brave all day—at least I’ve tried to be. I… ” She collapsed face down and let herself go.

By getting down prone and stretching Max could just reach her head. He patted her tangled hair. “Take it easy, kid,” he said softly. “Cry it out, if you’ll feel better.”

“Oh, Maxie! Tied up… like a dog.”

“We’ll see about that.” He sat up and examined his tether.

Whatever the ropelike leash was, it was not rope. It had a smooth shiny surface which reminded him more of a snake, though the part that wound around his ankle showed no features; it simply flowed around his ankle and merged back into itself.

He lifted the bight and detected a faint throbbing. He stroked it as he had seen the centaurs do and it responded with flowing pulsations, but it neither shrank nor grew longer, nor did it loosen its grip. “Ellie,” he announced, “This thing is alive.”

She lifted a woebegone face. “What thing?” “This rope.”

“Oh, that! Of course.”

“At least,” he went on, “if it isn’t, it’s not really dead.” He tried his knife again, there was no effect. “I’ll bet if I had a match I could make it cry ‘Uncle.’ Got an Everlite, Ellie?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Neither do I. Well, maybe I can make a fire some other way. Rubbing two sticks together, or something.”

“Do you know how?”

“No.” He continued stroking and patting the living rope, but, though he always got a response in pulsations, he did not seem to have the right touch; the bond stayed as before. He was continuing this fruitless attempt when he heard his name called. “Max! Ellie!”

Ellie sat up with a jerk. “Chipsie! Oh, Max, she followed us. Come here, darling!”

The spider puppy was high above them in a tree. She looked carefully around, then scurried down, making the last ten feet a flying leap into Ellie’s arms. They cuddled and made soft noises, then Ellie straightened up, her eyes shining. “Max, I feel so much better.”

“So do I.” He added, “Though I don’t know why.”

The spider puppy announced gravely, “Chipsie follow.”

Max reached across and petted her. “Yes, Chipsie did. Good girl!”

Ellie hugged the spider puppy. “I don’t feel deserted now, Max. Maybe everything will come out all right.”

“Look, Ellie, we’re not in too bad a spot. Maybe I’ll find the combination to tickle these ropes or snakes or whatever so they’ll give up. If I do, we’ll sneak back tonight.”

“How would we find our way?”

“Don’t worry. I watched every foot of the way, every change of direction, every landmark.” “Even in the dark?”

“Easier in the dark. I know these stars—I sure ought to. But suppose we don’t get loose; we still aren’t licked.”

“Huh? I don’t relish spending my life tied to a tree.”

“You won’t. Look—I think these things are just curious about us. They won’t eat us, that’s sure—they probably live on grass. Maybe they’ll get bored and turn us loose. But if they don’t, it’ll be rough on them.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because of Mr. Walther and George Daigler—and Sam, Sam Anderson; that’s why. They’re probably beating the bushes for us right now. We are less than ten miles from the ship—five by a straight line.

They’ll find us. Then if these silly-looking centaurs want to get tough, they’ll learn about modern weapons. They and their fool throwing ropes!”

“It might take a long time to find us. Nobody knows where we went.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “If I had a pocket radio. Or some way to signal. Or even a way to build a fire. But I don’t.”

“I never thought. It just seemed like going for a stroll in the park.”

Max thought darkly that he had tried to warn her. Why, even the hills around home weren’t safe if a body didn’t keep his eyes peeled… you could run into a mean old bobcat, or even a bear. Person like Ellie never ‘ud had enough hard knocks to knock sense into her, that was her trouble.

Presently he admitted that he himself hadn’t looked for grief from anything as apparently

chuckled-headed and harmless as these centaur things. Anyhow, as Sam would say, no use cryin’ over spilt milk when the horse was already stolen.

“Ellie.”

“Huh?”

“Do you suppose Chipsie could find her way back?” “Why, I don’t know.”

“If she could, we could send a message.”

Chipsie looked up. “Back?” she inquired. “Please back. Go home.”

Ellie frowned. “I’m afraid Chipsie doesn’t talk that well. She’d probably just hiccup and get incoherent.” “I don’t mean that. I know Chipsie is no mental giant. I…”

“Chipsie is smart!”

“Sure. But I want to send a written message and a map.” He fumbled in a pocket, pulled out a stylus. “Do you have any paper?”

“I’ll see.” She found a folded paper in a dungaree pocket. “Oh, dear! I was supposed to take this to Mr. Giordano. Mr. Hornsby will be so vexed with me.”

“What is it?”

“A requisition for number-ten wire.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He took the paper, scratched out the memorandum, turned it over and began to draw, stopping to consult the pictures filed in his mind for distances, which way the local sun lay, contours, and other details.

“Max?”

“Quiet, can’t you?” He continued to sketch, then added: “URGENT—to First Officer Walther: Eldreth Coburn and self captured by centaurs. Be careful and watch out for their throwing ropes. Respectfully,

M. Jones.” He handed it to Ellie. “That ought to do it. Is there any way to fasten it to her? I sure don’t want her to drop it.”

“Mmm… let me see. Turn your back, Max.” “Why?”

“Don’t be difficult. Turn your back.”

He did so, shortly she said, “All right now.” He faced her and she handed him a ribbon. “How’s this?”

“Swell!” They managed to tie the ribbon, with the note folded and firmly attached, around Mr. Chips’ waist, anchoring it to a middle limb… not too easy as the spider puppy seemed to think it was a game and was ticklish as well.

“There! Stop squirming, Chipsie, and listen. Ellie wants you to go home.” “Home?”

“Yes, home. Go back to the ship.” “Ellie go home?”

“Ellie can’t go home.” “No.”

“Honey, you’ve got to.” “No.”

“Look, Chipsie. You find Maggie and tell her Ellie said to give you some candy. You give Maggie this.” She tugged at the tied note.

“Candy?”

“Go home. Find Maggie. Maggie will give you candy.” “Ellie go home.”

“Please, Chipsie.”

“Ellie,” Max said urgently, “something is coming.”

Eldreth looked up, saw a centaur coming through the trees. She pointed. “Look, Chipsie! They’re coming! They’ll catch Chipsie! Go home! Run!”

The spider puppy squealed in terror and scurried for the trees. Once on a branch she looked back and whimpered. “Go home!” screamed Ellie. “Find Maggie!”

Mr. Chips shot a glance at the centaur, then disappeared. They had no time to worry further, the centaur was almost up to them. He glanced at them and went on by; it was what followed the centaur that grabbed their attention. Ellie suppressed a shriek. “Max! They’ve caught everybody.”

“No,” he corrected grimly. “Look again.” The gathering gloom had caused him to make the same mistake; it seemed that the entire ship’s company trotted after the centaur in single file, ankle leashed to ankle by living ropes. But only the first glance gave such an impression. These creatures were more than humanoid—but such degraded creatures had never sailed between the stars.

They shuffled quickly along like well-trained animals. One or two looked at Ellie and Max in passing, but their stares were bovine, incurious. Small children not on leash trotted with their mothers, and once Max was startled to see a wrinkled little head peeping out of a pouch—these man-creatures were marsupials, too.

Max controlled a desire to retch and as they passed out of sight he turned to Ellie. “Gosh!” “Max,” Eldreth said hoarsely, “do you suppose we’ve died and gone to our punishment?” “Huh? Don’t be silly. Things are bad enough.”

“I mean it. That was something right out of Dante’s Inferno.”

Max was swallowing uneasily and not feeling good-tempered. “Look, you can pretend you’re dead if you want to. Me, I’m alive and I mean to stay so. Those things weren’t men. Don’t let it throw you.”

“But they were men. Men and women and children.”

“No, they weren’t. Being shaped like us doesn’t make them men. Being a man is something else entirely.” He scowled. “Maybe the centaurs are ‘men.'”

“Oh, no—”

“Don’t be too sure. They seem to run things in this country.”

The discussion was cut short by another arrival. It was almost dark and they did not see the centaur until he entered their clearing. He was followed by three of the—Max decided to call them ‘men’ though he

resented the necessity—followed by three men. They were not on leashes. All three were bearing burdens. The centaur spoke to them; they distributed what they carried.

One of them set down a large clay bowl filled with water in the space separating Max and Ellie. It was the first artifact that any human had seen on Charity and did not indicate a high level of mechanical culture, being crudely modeled and clearly not thrown on a potter’s wheel; it held water, no more could be said for it. A second porter dumped a double armful of small fruits beside the bowl. Two of them splashed into the bowl, he did not bother to fish them out.

Max had to look twice to see what the third slave was carrying. It looked as if he had three large ovoid balls slung by ropes in each of his hands; second inspection showed them to be animals about the size of opossums which he carried by their tails. He went around the clearing, stopping every few feet and lifting one of his burdens to a lower branch. When he had finished they were surrounded by six small creatures, each hanging by its tail. The centaur followed the slave, Max saw him stroke each animal and press a spot on its neck. In each case the entire body of the little animal lit up, began to shine like a firefly with soft silvery light.

The clearing was softly illuminated thereby—well enough, Max thought, to read large print. One of the hobgoblins balloons came sailing silently between trees and anchored to a point thirty feet above them; it seemed to settle down for the night.

The centaur came over to Max and prodded him with a hoof, snorting inquiringly. Max listened carefully, then repeated the sound. The centaur answered and again Max mimicked. This useless exchange continued for a few phrases, then the centaur gave up and left, his train trotting after him.

Ellie shivered. “Phew!” she exclaimed, “I’m glad they’re gone. I can stand the centaurs, a little, but those men… ugh!”

He shared her disgust; they looked less human close up, having hair lines that started where their eyebrows should have been. They were so flat-headed that their ears stuck up above their skulls. But it was not this that had impressed Max. When the centaur had spoken to him Max had gotten his first good look into a centaur’s mouth. Those teeth were never meant for munching grain, they were more like the teeth of a tiger—or a shark.

He decided not to mention this. “Say, wasn’t that the same one that was leading the herd that caught us?” “How would I know? They all look alike.”

“But they don’t, any more than two horses look alike.” “Horses all look alike.”

“But… ” He stopped, baffled by a city viewpoint at which communication failed. “I think it was the same one.”

“I can’t see that it matters.”

“It might. I’m trying to learn their language.”

“I heard you swallowing your tonsils. How did you do that?”

“Oh, you just remember what a sound sounds like, then do it.” He threw his head back and made a very plaintive sound.

“What was that?”

“A shote stuck in a fence. Little shote by the name of Abner I had once.” “It sounds tragic.”

“It was, until I helped him loose. Ellie, I think they’ve bedded us down for the night.” He gestured at the bowl and the fruit beside it. “Like feeding the hogs.”

“Don’t put it that way. Room service. Room service and maid service and lights. Food and drink.” She picked up one of the fruits. It was about the size and shape of a cucumber. “Do you suppose this is fit to eat?”

“I don’t think you ought to try it. Ellie, it would be smart not to eat or drink anything until we are rescued.”

“Well, maybe we could go hungry but we certainly can’t go without water. You die of thirst in a day or two.”

“But we may be rescued before morning.”

“Maybe.” She peeled the fruit. “It smells good. Something like a banana.” He peeled one and sniffed it. “More like a pawpaw.”

“Well?”

“Mmm—Look here, I’ll eat one. If it hasn’t made me sick in a half hour, then you can try one.” “Yes, sir, boss man.” She bit into the one she held. “Mind the seeds.”

“Ellie, you’re a juvenile delinquent.”

She wrinkled her nose and smiled. “You say the sweetest things! I try to be.”

Max bit into his. Not bad—not as much flavor as a pawpaw, but not bad. Some minutes later he was saying, “Maybe we should leave some for breakfast?”

“All right. I’m full anyway.” Ellie leaned over and drank. Without words they had each concluded that the cloying meal required them to risk the water. “There, I feel better. At least we’ll die comfortably. Max? Do you think we dare sleep? I’m dead.”

“I think they are through with us for the night. You sleep, I’ll sit up.”

“No, that’s not fair. Honest, what good would it do to keep watch? We can’t get away.” “Well… here, take my knife. You can sleep with it in your hand.”

“All right.” She reached across the bowl and accepted it. “Good night, Max. I’m going to count sheep.”

“Good night.” He stretched out, shifted and got a tree cone out of his ribs, then tried to relax. Fatigue and a full stomach helped, the knowledge of their plight hindered—and that hobgoblin hanging up there.

Maybe it was keeping watch—but not for their benefit. “Max? Are you asleep?”

“No, Ellie.”

“Hold my hand? I’m scared.” “I can’t reach it.”

“Yes, you can. Swing around the other way.”

He did so, and found that he could reach over his head past the water bowl and clasp her hand. “Thanks, Max. Good night some more.”

He lay on his back and stared up through the trees. Despite the half light given by the luminiferous animals he could see stars and the numerous meteor trails crisscrossing the sky. To avoid thinking he started counting them. Presently they started exploding in his head and he was asleep.

The light of the local sun through the trees awakened him. He raised his head. “I wondered how long you would sleep,” Eldreth announced. “Look who’s here.”

He sat up, wincing with every move, and turned around. Mr. Chips was sitting on Ellie’s middle and peeling one of the papaya-like fruits. “Lo, Maxie.”

“Hello, Chipsie.” He saw that the note was still tied to her. “Bad girl!”

Mr. Chips turned to Ellie for comfort. Tears started to leak out. “No, no,” corrected Ellie. “Good girl. She’s promised to go find Maggie as soon as she finishes breakfast. Haven’t you, dear?”

“Go find Maggie,” the spider puppy agreed.

“Don’t blame her, Max. Spider puppies aren’t nocturnal back home. She just waited until we were quiet, then came back. She couldn’t help it. I found her sleeping in my arm.”

The spider puppy finished eating, then drank daintily from the bowl. Max decided that it didn’t matter, considering who had probably used it before they had. This thought he suppressed quickly. “Find Maggie,” Mr. Chips announced.

“Yes, dear. Go straight back to the ship as fast as you can and find Maggie. Hurry.”

“Find Maggie. Hurry fast. ‘Bye, Maxie.” The spider puppy took to the trees and scampered away in the right direction.

“Do you think she’ll get there?” asked Max.

“I think so. After all, her ancestors found their way through forests and such for a lot of generations. She knows it’s important; we had a long talk.”

“Do you really think she understands that much?”

“She understands about pleasing me and that’s enough. Max, do you suppose they can possibly reach us today? I don’t want to spend another night here.”

“Neither do I. If Chipsie can move faster than we can…” “Oh, she can.”

“Then maybe—if they start quickly.”

“I hope so. Ready for breakfast?” “Did Chipsie leave anything?” “Three apiece. I’ve had mine. Here.”

“Sure you’re lying? There were only five when we went to sleep.” She looked sheepish and allowed him to split the odd one. While they were eating he noticed a change. “Hey, what became of the over-sized lightning bugs?”

“Oh. One of those awful creatures came at dawn and carried them away. I was set to scream but he didn’t come close to me, so I let you sleep.”

“Thanks. I see our chaperone is with us.” The hobgoblin still hung in the tree tops. “Yes, and there have been peekers around all morning, too.”

“Did you get a look at one?”

“Of course not.” She stood up, stretched and winced. “Now to see what beautiful surprises this lovely day brings forth.” She made a sour face. “The program I would pick is to sit right here and never lay eyes on anything until George Daigler shows up with about a dozen armed men. I’d kiss him. I’d kiss all of them.”

“So would I.”

Until well past noon Eldreth’s chosen schedule prevailed, nothing happened. They heard from time to time the bugling and snorting of centaurs but saw none. They talked in desultory fashion, having already disposed of both hopes and fears, and were dozing in the sunshine, when they suddenly came alert to the fact that a centaur was entering the clearing.

Max felt sure that it was the leader of the herd, or at least that it was the one who had fed and watered them. The creature wasted no time, making it clear with kicks and prods that they were to allow themselves to be leashed for travel.

Never once were they free of the living ropes. Max thought of attacking the centaur, perhaps leaping on his back and cutting his throat. But it seemed most unlikely that he could do it quietly enough; one snort might bring the herd down on them. Besides which he knew no way to get free of their bonds even if he killed the centaur. Better wait—especially with a messenger gone for help.

They were led, falling and being dragged occasionally, along the route taken by the party of slaves. It became apparent that they were entering a large centaur settlement. The path opened out into a winding, well-tended road with centaurs going both directions and branching off onto side roads. There were no buildings, none of the outward marks of a civilized race—but there was an air of organization, of custom, of stability. Little centaurs scampered about, got in the way, and were ordered aside. There was activity of various sorts on both sides of the road and grotesque human slaves were almost as numerous as centaurs, carrying burdens, working in unexplained fashions—some with living-rope bonds, some allowed to run free. They could not see much because of the uncomfortable pace they were forced to maintain.

Once Max noted an activity on his side of the road that he wished to see better. He did not mention it to Ellie, not only because talking was difficult but because he did not wish to worry her—but it had looked like an outdoor butcher shop to him. The hanging carcasses were not centaurs.

They stopped at last in a very large clearing, well filled with centaurs. Their master patted the lines that bound them and thereby caused them to shorten until they were fetched close to his sides. He then took his place in a centaur queue.

A large, grizzled, and presumably elderly centaur was holding court on one side of the “square.” He stood with quiet dignity as single centaurs or groups came in succession before him. Max watched with interest so great that he almost lost his fear. Each case would be the cause of much discussion, then the centaur chieftain would make a single remark and the case would be over. The contestants would leave quietly.

The conclusion was inescapable that law or custom was being administered, with the large centaur as arbiter.

There was none of the travesties of men in the clearing but there were underfoot odd animals that looked like flattened-out hogs. Their legs were so short that they seemed more like tractor treads. They were mostly mouth and teeth and snuffling snouts, and whatever they came to, if it was not a centaur’s hoof, they devoured. Max understood from watching them how the area, although thickly inhabited, was kept so clean; these scavengers were animated street cleaners.

Their master gradually worked up toward the head of the line. The last case before theirs concerned the only centaur they had seen which did not seem in vibrant health. He was old and skinny, his coat was dull and his bones stuck pitifully through his hide. One eye was blind, a blank white; the other was inflamed and weeping a thick ichor.

The judge, mayor, or top herd leader discussed his case with two younger healthy centaurs who seemed to be attending him almost as nurses. Then the boss centaur moved from his position of honor and walked around the sick one, inspecting him from all sides. Then he spoke to him.

The old sick one responded feebly, a single snorted word. The chief centaur spoke again, got what seemed to Max the same answer. The chief backed into his former position, set up a curious whinnying cry.

From all sides the squatty scavengers converged on the spot. They formed a ring around the sick one and his attendants, dozens of them, snuffling and grunting. The chief bugled once; one attendant reached into its pouch and hauled forth a creature curled into a knot, the centaur stroked it and it unwound. To Max it looked unpleasantly like an eel.

The attendant extended it toward the sick centaur. It made no move to stop him, but waited, watching with his one good eye. The head of the slender thing was suddenly touched to the neck of the sick centaur; he jerked in the characteristic convulsion of electric shock and collapsed.

The chief centaur snorted once—and the scavengers waddled forward with surprising speed, swarming over the body and concealing it. When they backed away, still snuffling, there were not even bones.

Max called out softly, “Steady, Ellie! Get a grip on yourself, kid.” She answered faintly, “I’m all right.”

A FRIEND IN NEED

For the first time they were turned loose. Their master tickled their bonds, which dropped from their ankles. Max said softly to Ellie, “If you want to run for it, I’ll keep them busy.”

Ellie shook her head. “No good. They’d have me before I went fifty feet. Besides—I can’t find my way back.”

Max shut up, knowing that she was right but having felt obliged to offer. The chief centaur inspected them with the characteristic expression of gentle surprise, exchanged bugling comments with their captor. They were under discussion for some time, there appeared to be some matter to be decided. Max got out his knife. He had no plan, other than a determination that no centaur would approach either one of them with that electric-shock creature, or any other menace, without a fight.

The crisis faded away. Their captor flicked their leashes about their ankles and dragged them off. Fifteen minutes later they were again staked out in the clearing they had occupied. Ellie looked around her after the centaur had gone and sighed. “‘Be it ever so humble… ‘ Max, it actually feels good to get back here.”

“I know.”

The monotony that followed was varied by one thing only: fading hope and mounting despair. They were not treated unkindly; they were simply domestic animals—fed and watered and largely ignored. Once a day they were given water and plenty of the native papayas. After the first night they no longer had the luxury of “artificial” light, nor did the hobgoblin hang over their clearing. But there was no way of escape, short of gnawing off a leg and crawling away.

For two or three days they discussed the possibility of rescue with mounting anxiety, then, having beaten the subject to death they dropped it; it simply added to their distress. Ellie rarely smiled now and she had quit her frivolous back talk; it seemed that it had finally gotten through her armor that this could happen to Eldreth Coburn, only daughter of the rich and almost all-powerful Mr. Commissioner Coburn—a chattel, a barnyard animal of monsters themselves suitable only for zoos.

Max took it a little more philosophically. Never having had much, he did not expect much—not that he enjoyed it. He kept his worst fear secret. Ellie referred to their status as “animals in a zoo” because most of their visitors were small centaurs who came sniffling and bleating around with a curiosity that their elders seemed to lack. He let her description stand because he believed their status worse than that—he thought that they were being fattened for the table.

One week after their capture Eldreth declined to eat breakfast and stayed silent all morning. All that Max could think of to say evoked only monosyllables. In desperation he said, “I’ll beat you at three-dee and spot you two starships.”

That roused her. “You and who else?” she said scornfully. “And with what?” “Well, we could play it in our heads. You know—blindfold.”

She shook her head. “No good. You’d claim your memory was better than mine and I wouldn’t be able to prove you were cheating.”

“Nasty little brat.”

She smiled suddenly. “That’s better. You’ve been too gentle with me lately—it depresses me. Max, we could make a set.”

“How?”

“With these.” She picked up one of many tree cones that littered the clearing. “A big one is a flagship. We can pick various sizes and break the thingamajigs off and such.”

They both got interested. The water bowl was moved aside so that it no longer occupied the center of the space marked by the limits of their tethers and the no-man’s-land between them was brushed free of needles and marked with scratches as boards. The boards had to be side by side; they must stack them in their minds, but that was a common expedient for players with good visualization when using an unpowered set—it saved time between moves.

Pebbles became robots; torn bits of cloth tied to cones distinguished sides and helped to designate pieces. By midafternoon they were ready. They were still playing their first game when darkness forced them to stop. As they lay down to sleep Max said, “I’d better not take your hand. I’d knock over men in the dark.”

“I won’t sleep if you don’t—I won’t feel safe. Besides, that gorilla messed up one board changing the water.”

“That’s all right. I remember where they were.”

“Then you can just remember where they all are, Stretch out your arm.” He groped in the darkness, found her fingers. “Night, Max. Sleep tight.” “Good night, Ellie.”

Thereafter they played from sunup to sundown. Their owner came once, watched them for an hour, went away without a snort. Once when Ellie had fought him to a draw Max said, “You know, Ellie, you play this game awfully well—for a girl.”

“Thank you too much.”

“No, I mean it. I suppose girls are probably as intelligent as men, but most of them don’t act like it. I think it’s because they don’t have to. If a girl is pretty, she doesn’t have to think. Of course, if she can’t get by on her looks, then—well, take you for example. If you…”

“Oh! So I’m ugly, Mr. Jones!”

“Wait a minute. I didn’t say that. Let’s suppose that you were the most beautiful woman since Helen of Troy. In that case, you would… ” He found that he was talking to her back. She had swung round, grabbed her knees, and was ignoring him.

He stretched himself to the limit of his tether, bound leg straight out behind him, and managed to touch her shoulder. “Ellie?”

She shook off his hand. “Keep your distance! You smell like an old goat.”

“Well,” he said reasonably, “you’re no lily yourself. You haven’t had a bath lately either.”

“I know it!” she snapped, and started to sob. “And I hate it. I just… h- h- hate it. I look awful.” “No, you don’t. Not to. me.”

She turned a tear-wet and very dirty face. “Liar.” “Nothing wrong that some soap and water won’t fix.”

“Oh, if only I had some.” She looked at him. “You aren’t at your best yourself, Mr. Jones. You need a haircut and the way your beard grows in patches is ghastly.”

He fingered the untidy stubble on his chin. “I can’t help it.” “Neither can I.” She sighed. “Set up the boards again.”

Thereafter she beat him three straight games, one with a disgraceful idiot’s mate. He looked at the boards sadly when it was over. “And you are the girl who flunked improper fractions?”

“Mr. Jones, has it ever occurred to you, the world being what it is, that women sometimes prefer not to appear too bright?” He was digesting this when she added, “I learned this game at my father’s knee, before I learned to read. I was junior champion of Hespera before I got shanghaied. Stop by sometime and I’ll show you my cup.”

“Is that true? Really?”

“I’d rather play than eat—when I can find competition. But you’re learning. Someday you’ll be able to give me a good game.”

“I guess I don’t understand women.” “That’s an understatement.”

Max was a long time getting to sleep that night. Long after Eldreth was gently snoring he was still staring at the shining tail of the big comet, watching the shooting star trails, and thinking. None of his thoughts was pleasant.

Their position was hopeless, he admitted. Even though Chipsie had failed (he had never pinned much hope on her), searching parties should have found them by now. There was no longer any reason to think that they would be rescued.

And now Ellie was openly contemptuous of him. He had managed to hurt her pride again—again with his big, loose, flapping jaw! Why, he should have told her that she was the prettiest thing this side of paradise, if it would make her feel good—she had mighty little to feel good about these days!

Being captive had been tolerable because of her, he admitted—now he had nothing to look forward to but day after day of losing at three-dee while Ellie grimly proved that girls were as good as men and better. At the end of it they would wind up as an item in the diet of a thing that should never have been born.

If only Dr. Hendrix hadn’t died!

If only he had been firm with Ellie when it mattered.

To top it off, and at the moment almost the worst of all, he felt that if he ate just one more of those blasted pawpaws it would gag him.

He was awakened by a hand on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear. “Max!” “What the—?”

“Quiet! Not a sound.”

It was Sam crouching over him—Sam!

As he sat up, sleep jarred out of him by adrenalin shock, he saw Sam move noiselessly to where Ellie slept. He squatted over her but did not touch her. “Miss Eldreth,” he said softly.

Ellie’s eyes opened and stared. She opened her mouth, Max was terrified that she might cry out. Sam hastily signed for silence; she looked at him and nodded. Sam knelt over her, seemed to study something in the shadow-laced moonlight, then took out a hand gun. There was the briefest of low-energy discharges, entirely silent, and Ellie stood up—free. Sam returned to Max. “Hold still,” he whispered. “I don’t want to burn you.” He knelt over Max’s bound ankle.

When the gun flared Max felt an almost paralyzing constriction around his ankle, then the thing fell off. The amputated major part contracted and jerked away into the shadows. Max stood up. “How—”

“Not a word. Follow me.” Sam led off into the bushes with Ellie behind him and Max following closely. They had gone only twenty yards when there was a whimpering cry of “Ellie!” and the spider puppy landed in Eldreth’s arms. Sam turned suddenly.

“Keep her quiet,” he whispered, “for your life.”

Ellie nodded and started petting the little creature, crooning to it voicelessly. When Chipsie tried to talk, she silenced it, then stuffed it inside her shirt. Sam waited these few moments, now started on without speaking.

They proceeded for several hundred yards as near silently as three people who believe their lives hang on it can manage. Finally Sam stopped. “This is as far as we dare go,” he said in a low voice. “Any farther in the dark and I’d be lost. But I’m pretty sure we are outside their sleeping grounds. We’ll start again at the first light.”

“How did you get here in the dark, then?”

“I didn’t. Chips and I have been hiding in thick bushes since midafternoon, not fifty feet from you.” “Oh.” Max looked around, looked up at the stars. “I can take us back in the dark.”

“You can? It ‘ud be a darn good thing. These babies don’t stir out at night—I think.” “Let me get in the lead. You get behind Ellie.”

It took more than an hour to get to the edge of the tableland. The darkness, the undergrowth, the need for absolute silence, and the fact that Max had to take it slowly to keep his bearings despite his photographic memory all slowed them down. The trip downhill into the valley was even slower.

When they reached the edge of the trees with comparatively flat grassland in front Sam halted them and surveyed the valley by dim moonlight. “Mustn’t get caught in the open,” he whispered. “They can’t throw those snakes too well among trees, but out in the open—oh, brother!”

“You know about the throwing ropes?” “Sure.”

“Sam,” whispered Ellie. “Mr. Anderson, why did…”

“Sssh!” he cautioned. “Explanations later. Straight across, at a dogtrot. Miss Eldreth, you set the pace. Max, pick your bearings and guide us. We’ll run side by side. All set?”

“Just a minute.” Max took the spider puppy from Eldreth, zipping it inside his shirt as she had done. Mr. Chips did not even wake up, but moaned softly like a disturbed baby. “Okay.”

They ran and walked and ran again for a half hour or more, wasting no breath on words, putting everything into gaining distance from the centaur community. Knee-high grass and semi-darkness made the going hard. They were almost to the bottom of the valley and Max was straining to spot the stream when Sam called out, “Down! Down flat!”

Max hit dirt, taking it on his elbows to protect Chips; Ellie flopped beside him. Max turned his head cautiously and whispered, “Centaurs?”

“No. Shut up.”

A hobgoblin balloon, moving at night to Max’s surprise, was drifting across the valley at an altitude of about a hundred feet. Its course would take it past them, missing them by perhaps a hundred yards. Then it veered and came toward them.

It lost altitude and hovered almost over them. Max saw Sam aim carefully, steadying his pistol with both bands. There was momentarily a faint violet pencil from gun to hobgoblin; the creature burst and fell so close by that Max could smell burned meat. Sam returned his weapon and got to his feet. “One less spy,” he said with satisfaction. “Let’s get going, kids.”

“You think those things spy?”

“‘Think’? We know. Those polo ponies have this place organized. Pipe down and make miles.”

Ellie found the stream by falling into it. They hauled her out and waded across, stopping only to drink. On the other bank Sam said, “Where’s your left shoe, Miss Eldreth?”

“It came off in the brook.”

Sam stopped to search but it was useless; the water looked like ink in the faint light. “No good,” he decided. “We could waste the whole night. You’re due for sore feet—sorry. Better throw away your other shoe.”

It did not slow them until they reached the far ridge beyond which lay Charityville and the ship. Soon after they started up Ellie cut her right foot on a rock. She did her best, setting her jaw and not complaining, but it handicapped them. There was a hint of dawn in the air by the time they reached the top. Max started to lead them down the arroyo that he and Ellie had come up so many year-long days ago. Sam stopped him. “Let me get this straight. This isn’t the draw that faces the ship, is it?”

“No, that one is just north of this.” Max reconstructed in his mind how it had looked from the ship and compared it with his memory of the photomap taken as the ship landed. “Actually a shoulder just beyond the next draw faces the ship.”

“I thought so. This is the one Chips led me up, but I want us to stay in the trees as long as possible. It’ll be light by the time we’d be down to the flat.”

“Does it matter? There have never been any centaurs seen in the valley the ship is in.”

“You mean you never saw any. You’ve been away, old son. We’re in danger now—and in worse danger

the closer we get to the ship. Keep your voice down—and lead us to that shoulder that sticks out toward the ship. If you can.”

Max could, though it meant going over strange terrain and keeping his bearings from his memory of a small-scale map. It involved “crossing the furrows,” too, instead of following a dry water course—which led to impasses such as thirty-foot drops that had to be gone painfully around. Sam grew edgy as the light increased and urged them to greater speed and greater silence even as Ellie’s increasingly crippled condition made his demands harder to meet.

“I really am sorry,” he whispered after she had to slide and scramble down a rock slope, checking herself with bare and bloody feet. “But it’s better to get there on stumps than to let them catch you.”

“I know.” Her face contorted but she made no sound. It was daylight by the time Max led them out on the shoulder. Silently he indicated the ship, a half mile away. They were about level with its top.

“Down this way, I think,” he said quietly to Sam. “No.”

“Huh?”

“Chilluns, it’s Uncle Sam’s opinion that we had better lie doggo in those bushes, holding still and letting the beggar flies bite us, until after sundown.”

Max eyed the thousand yard gap. “We could run for it.”

“And four legs run faster than two legs. We’ve learned that lately.”

The bushes selected by Sam grew out to the edge of the shoulder. He crawled through them until he reached a place where he could spy the valley below while still hidden. Ellie and Max wriggled after him. The ground dropped off sharply just beyond them. The ship faced them, to their left and nearer was Charityville.

“Get comfortable,” Sam ordered, “and we’ll take turns keeping guard. Sleep if you can, this will be a long watch.”

Max tried to shift Mr. Chips around so that he might lie flat. A little head poked out of his collar. “Good morning,” the spider puppy said gravely. “Breakfast?”

“No breakfast, hon,” Ellie told her. “Sam, is it all right to let her out?”

“I guess so. But keep her quiet.” Sam was studying the plain below. Max did the same. “Sam? Why don’t we head for the village? It’s closer.”

“Nobody there. Abandoned.”

“What? Look, Sam, can’t you tell us now what’s happened?”

Sam did not take his eyes off the plain. “Okay. But hold it down to whispers. What do you want to know?”

That was a hard one—Max wanted to know everything. “What happened to the village?” “Gave it up. Too dangerous.”

“Huh? Anybody caught?”

“Not permanently. Daigler had a gun. But then the fun began. We thought that all they had were those throwing snakes and that we had scared them off. But they’ve got lots more than that. Things that burrow underground, for example. That’s why the village had to be abandoned.”

“Anybody hurt?”

“Well… the newlyweds were already in residence. Becky Weberbauer is a widow.”

Ellie gasped and Sam whispered sharply to be quiet. Max mulled it over before saying, “Sam, I don’t see why, after they got my message, they didn’t…”

“What message?”

Max explained. Sam shook his head. “The pooch got back all right. By then we knew you were missing and were searching for you—armed, fortunately. But there was no message.”

“Huh? How did you find us?”

“Chips led me, I told you. But that was all. Somebody stuffed her into her old cage and that’s where I found her yesterday. I stopped to pet her, knowing you were gone, Miss Eldreth—and found the poor little thing nearly out of her mind. I finally got it through my head that she knew where you two were.

So… ” He shrugged.

“Oh. But I can’t see,” Max whispered, “why you risked it alone. You already knew they were dangerous; you should have had every man in the ship with you, armed.”

Sam shook his head. “And we would have lost every man. A sneak was possible; the other wasn’t. And we had to get you back.”

“Thanks. I don’t know how to say it, Sam. Anyhow, thanks.”

“Yes,” added Ellie, “and stop calling me ‘Miss Eldreth.’ I’m Ellie to my friends.” “Okay, Ellie. How are the feet?”

“I’ll live.”

“Good.” He turned his head to Max. “But I didn’t say we wanted to get you back, I said we had to. You, Max. No offense, Ellie.”

“Huh? Why me?”

“Well… ” Sam seemed reluctant. “You’ll get the details when you get back. But it looks like you’ll be needed if they take the ship off. You’re the only astrogator left.”

“Huh? What happened to Simes?” “Quiet! He’s dead.”

“For Pete’s sake.” Max decided that, little as he liked Simes, death at the hands of the centaurs he would not have wished on any human; he said so.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t that way. You see, when Captain Blaine died…”

“The Captain, too?” “Yes.”

“I knew he was sick, I didn’t know he was that sick.”

“Well, call it a broken heart. Or honorable hara-kiri. Or an accident. I found an empty box for sleeping pills when I helped pack his things. Maybe he took them, or maybe your pal Simes slipped them in his tea. The Surgeon certified ‘natural causes’ and that’s how it was logged. What is a natural cause when a man can’t bear to live any longer?”

Ellie said softly, “He was a good man.” “Yes,” agreed Sam. “Too good, maybe.” “But how about Simes?”

“Well, now, that was another matter. Simes seemed to feel that he was crown prince, but the First wouldn’t stand for it. Something about some films the Chief Computerman had. Anyhow, he tried to get tough with Walther and I sort of broke his neck. There wasn’t time to be gentle,” Sam added hastily. “Simes pulled a gun.”

“Sam! You aren’t in trouble?”

“None, except here and now. If we—quiet, kids!” He peered more sharply through the bushes. “Not a sound, not a movement,” he whispered. “It may miss us.”

A hobgoblln was drifting down from north, paralleling the ridge above and out from it, as if it were scouting the high land. Max said in Sam’s ear, “Hadn’t we better scrunch back?”

“Too late. Just hold still.”

The balloon drifted abreast of them, stopped, then moved slowly toward them. Max saw that Sam had his gun out. He held his fire until the hobgoblin hovered above them. The shot burned needles and branches but it brought down the thing.

“Sam! There’s another one!”

“Where?” Sam looked where Max pointed. The second hobgoblin apparently had been covering the first, higher and farther out. Even as they watched it veered away and gained altitude.

“Get it, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Too late. Too far and too late. Well, kids, away we go. No need to keep quiet. Sit down and slide, Ellie; it’ll save your feet some.”

Down they went, scattering rocks and tearing their clothes, with Mr. Chips on her own and enjoying it. At the bottom Sam said, “Max, how fast can you do a half mile?”

“I don’t know. Three minutes.”

“Make it less. Get going. I’ll help Ellie.” “No.”

“You get there! You’re needed.” “No!”

Sam sighed. “Always some confounded hero. Take her other arm.”

They made a couple of hundred yards half carrying Eldreth, when she shook them off. “I can go faster alone,” she panted.

“Okay, let’s go!” Sam rasped.

She proved herself right. Ignoring her injured feet she pumped her short legs in a fashion which did not require Max’s best speed to keep up, but nevertheless kept him panting. The ship grew larger ahead of them. Max saw that the cage was up and wondered how long it would take to attract attention and get it lowered.

They were half way when Sam shouted, “Here comes the cavalry! Speed it up!”

Max glanced over his shoulder. A herd of centaurs—a dozen, two dozen, perhaps more—was sweeping toward them from the hills on a diagonal plainly intended to cut them off. Ellie saw them too and did speed up, with a burst that momentarily outdistanced Max.

They had cut the distance to a few hundred yards when the cage swung free of the lock and sank lazily toward the ground. Max started to shout that they were going to make it when he heard the drum of hooves close behind. Sam yelled, “Beat it, kids! Into the ship.” He stopped.

Max stopped too, while shouting, “Run, Ellie!

Sam snarled, “Run for it, I said! What can you do? Without a gun?”

Max hesitated, torn by an unbearable decision. He saw that Ellie had stopped. Sam glanced back, then backhanded Max across the mouth. “Get moving! Get her inside!”

Max moved, gathering Ellie in one arm and urging her on. Behind them Sam Anderson turned to face his death… dropping to one knee and steadying his pistol over his left forearm in precisely the form approved by the manual.

“—A SHIP IS NOT JUST STEEL—”

The cage hit the ground, four men swarmed out as Max stumbled inside and dumped Ellie on the floor. The door clanged shut behind them, but not too quickly for Mr. Chips. The spider puppy ran to Ellie, clutched her arm and wailed. Eldreth tried to sit up.

“You all right?” Max demanded.

“Uh, sure. But… ” She shut up as Max whirled around and tried to open the cage door.

It would not open. It was not until then that he realized that the lift was off the ground and rising slowly. He punched the “stop” control.

Nothing happened, the car continued upward. About ten feet off the ground it stopped. Max looked up through the grille roof and shouted, “Hey! In the lock, there! Lower away!”

He was ignored. He tried the door again—uselessly, as its safety catch prevented it being opened when the cage was in the air. Frustrated and helpless, he grabbed the bars and looked out. He could see nothing of Sam. The centaurs were milling around in the middle distance. He saw one stumble and go down and then another. Then he saw the four men who had passed him. They were on their bellies in fair skirmish line not far from the cage, each with a shoulder gun and each firing carefully. The range was not great, about three hundred yards; they were taking steady toll. Each silent, almost invisible bolt picked off a centaur.

Max counted seven more centaur casualties—then the monsters broke and ran, scattering toward the hills. The firing continued and several more dropped before distance made firing uncertain.

Somebody shouted, “Hold your fire!” and one of the men stumbled to his feet and ran toward the center of the battle. The others got up and followed him.

When they came back they were carrying something that looked like a bundle of clothing. The cage lowered to the ground, they came inside and laid it gently on the floor. One of them glanced at Eldreth, then quickly removed his jacket and laid it over Sam’s face. Not until then did Max see that it was Mr. Walther.

The other three were Mr. Daigler, a power man whom Max knew only by sight, and Chief Steward Giordano. The fat man was crying openly. “The filthy vermin!” he sobbed. “He never had a chance. They just rode him down and trompled him.” He choked, then added, “But he got at least five of ’em.” His eyes rested on Max without recognition. “He made ’em pay.”

Eldreth said gently, “Is he dead?”

“Huh? Of course. Don’t talk silly.” The steward turned his face away.

The car bumped to a stop. Walther looked in through the lock and said angrily, “Get those bystanders out of the way. What is this? A circus?” He turned back. “Let’s get him in, men.”

As he was bending to help, Max saw Eldreth being led away by Mrs. Dumont. Tenderly they carried Sam in and deposited him on the deck where the Surgeon was waiting. Walther straightened up and seemed to notice Max for the first time. “Mr. Jones? Will you see me in my stateroom as quickly as possible, please?”

“Aye aye, sir. But… ” Max looked down at his friend. “I’d like to…”

Walther cut him short. “There’s nothing you can do. Come away.” He added more gently, “Make it fifteen minutes. That will give you time for a wash and a change.”

Max presented himself on time, showered, his face hastily scraped, and in clean clothes—although lacking a cap. His one cap was somewhere in the far valley, lost on capture. He found Chief Engineer Compagnon and Mr. Samuels, the Purser, with the First Officer. They were seated around a table, having coffee. “Come in, Mr. Jones,” Walther invited. “Sit down. Coffee?”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Max discovered that he was terribly hungry. He loaded the brew with cream and sugar.

They sat for a few minutes, talking of unimportant matters, while Max drank his coffee and steadied down. Presently Walther said, “What shape are you in, Mr. Jones?”

“Why, all right, I guess, sir. Tired, maybe.”

“I imagine so. I’m sorry to have to disturb you. Do you know the situation now?” “Partly, sir. Sam told me… Sam Anderson… ” His voice broke.

“We’re sorry about Anderson,” Mr. Walther said soberly. “In many ways he was one of the best men I ever served with. But go on.”

Max recounted what Sam had had time to tell him, but shortened the statements about Simes and Captain Blaine to the simple fact that they were dead. Walther nodded. “Then you know what we want of you?”

“I think so, sir. You want to raise the ship, so you want me to astrogate.” He hesitated. “I suppose I can.” “Mmm… yes. But that’s not all.”

“Sir?”

“You must be Captain.”

All three had their eyes fixed on him. Max felt lightheaded and for a moment wondered what was wrong. Their faces seemed to swell and then recede. He realized vaguely that he had had little to eat and almost no sleep for many hours and had been running on nerve—yes, that must be what was wrong with him.

From a long distance away he heard Walther’s voice: “… utterly necessary to leave this planet without delay. Now our legal position is clear. In space, only an astrogation officer may command. You are being asked to assume command responsibility while very young but you are the only qualified person—therefore you must do it.”

Max pulled himself together, the wavering figures came into focus. “Mr. Walther?” “Yes?”

“But I’m not an astrogator. I’m just a probationary apprentice.

Chief Engineer Compagnon answered him. “Kelly says you’re an astrogator,” he growled. “Kelly is more of an astrogator than I am!”

Compagnon shook his head. “You can’t pass judgment on yourself.” Samuels nodded agreement.

“Let’s dispose of that,” Walther added. “There is no question of the Chief Computerman becoming captain. Nor does your rank in your guild matter. Line of command, underway, necessarily is limited to astrogators. You are senior in that line, no matter how junior you feel. At this moment, I hold command—until I pass it on. But I can’t take a ship into space. If you refuse… well, I don’t know what we will have to do. I don’t know.”

Max gulped and said, “Look, sir, I’m not refusing duty. I’ll astrogate—shucks, I suppose it’s all right to call me the astrogator, under the circumstances. But there is no reason to pretend that I’m captain. You stay in command while I conn the ship. That’s best, sir—I wouldn’t know how to act like a captain.”

Walther shook his head. “Not legally possible.”

Compagnon added, “I don’t care about the legalities. But I know that responsibility can’t be divided. Frankly, young fellow, I’d rather have Dutch as skipper than you—but he can’t astrogate. I’d be delighted to have Doc Hendrix—but he’s gone. I’d rather hold the sack myself than load it on you—but I’m a physicist and I know just enough of the math of astrogation to know that I couldn’t in a lifetime acquire the speed that an astrogator has to have. Not my temperament. Kelly says you’ve got it already. I’ve shipped with Kelly a good many years, I trust him. So it’s your pidgin, son; you’ve got to take it—and the authority that goes with it. Dutch will help—we’ll all help—but you can’t duck out and hand him the sack.”

Mr. Samuels said quietly, “I don’t agree with the Chief Engineer about the unimportance of legal aspects; most of these laws have wise reasons behind them. But I agree with what else he says. Mr. Jones, a ship is not just steel, it is a delicate political entity. Its laws and customs cannot be disregarded without inviting disaster. It will be far easier to maintain morale and discipline in this ship with a young captain—with all his officers behind him—than it would be to let passengers and crew suspect that the man who must make the crucial decisions, those life-and-death matters involving the handling of the ship, that this

all-powerful man nevertheless can’t be trusted to command the ship. No, sir, such a situation would frighten me; that is how mutinies are born.”

Max felt his heart pounding, his head was aching steadily. Walther looked at him grimly and said, “Well?” “I’ll take it.” He added, “I don’t see what else I can do.”

Walther stood up. “What are your orders, Captain?”

Max sat still and tried to slow his heart. He pressed his fingers to throbbing temples and looked frightened. “Uh, continue with routine. Make preparations to raise ship.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Walther paused, then added, “May I ask when the Captain plans to raise ship?”

He was having trouble focusing again. “When? Not before tomorrow—tomorrow at noon. I’ve got to have a night’s sleep.” He thought to himself that Kelly and he could throw it into a parking orbit, which would get them away from the centaurs—then stop to figure out his next move.

“I think that’s wise, sir. We need the time.”

Compagnon stood up. “If the Captain will excuse me, sir, I’ll get my department started.”

Samuels joined him. “Your cabin is ready, sir—I’ll have your personal effects moved in in a few minutes.”

Max stared at him. He had not yet assimilated the side implications of his new office. Use Captain Blaine’s holy of holies? Sleep in his bed? “Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m comfortable where I am.”

Samuels glanced at the First Officer, then said, “If you please, Captain, this is one of the things I was talking about when I said that a ship is a delicate political entity.”

“Eh?” Max thought about it, then suddenly felt both the burden descend on him and the strength to meet it. “Very well,” he answered, his voice deepening. “Do it.”

“Yes, sir.” Samuels looked at him. “Also, Captain—if you wish it—I’ll have Lopez stop in and trim your hair.”

Max pushed locks back of his ear. “It is shaggy, isn’t it? Very well.”

The Purser and the Chief Engineer left. Max stood for a moment uncertainly, not sure what his next cue was in this new role. Walther said, “Captain? Can you spare me a few more minutes?”

“Oh, certainly.” They sat down and Walther poured more coffee. Max said, “Mr. Walther? Do you suppose we could ring the pantry and get some toast? I haven’t eaten today.”

“Why, surely! Sorry, sir.” Instead of ringing, the First Officer phoned and ordered a high tea. Then he turned to Max. “Captain, I didn’t give you all the story—nor did I wish to until we were alone.”

“So?”

“Don’t misunderstand me. My turning over command to you did not depend on these other matters—nor is it necessary for your officers to know everything that the Captain knows… even your department heads.”

“Uh, I suppose not.”

Walther stared at his coffee. “Have you heard how Mr. Simes happened to die?”

Max told him what little he had learned from Sam. Walther nodded. “That is essentially correct. Mmmm… It is not good to speak ill of the dead, but Simes was an unstable character. When Captain Blaine passed on, he took it for granted that he was immediately captain of this ship.”

“Well—I suppose it looked that way to him, from the legal standpoint.”

“Not at all! Sorry to correct you, Captain, but that is one hundred percent wrong.”

Max frowned. “I guess I’m dumb—but I thought that was the argument that was used on me?”

“No, sir. The ship being on the ground, command devolved on me, the senior. I am not required to turn command over to an astrogator until—and unless—the ship goes into space. Even then it is not automatically a matter of turning it over to the senior astrogating officer. I have a clearly defined responsibility, with numerous adjudicated cases in point: I must turn command over only to a man I believe can handle it.

“Now I have long had doubts about Mr. Simes, his temperament, I mean. Nevertheless, in this emergency, I would have found it terribly hard not to turn command over to him, once it was decided to raise ship. But before we lost the Captain I had had occasion to dig into Mr. Simes’ ability as an astrogator—partly as a result of a conversation with you. I talked with Kelly—as you have gathered, Kelly is very well thought of. I believe I know now how that last transition went sour; Kelly took pains to show me. That and the fact that Kelly told me bluntly that there wasn’t a member of the Worry gang willing to go into space under Mr. Simes made me decide that, if it ever came up, I’d let this ship sit here forever before I would let Simes be captain. That was just thinking ahead; the Captain was sick and prudence forced me to consider possibilities.

“Then the Captain did die—and Simes announced that he was captain. The fool even moved into the cabin and sent for me. I told him he was not in command and never would be. Then I left, got witnesses and took my chief of police along to eject him. You know what happened. Your life isn’t the only one that Anderson saved; I owe him mine, too.”

Walther abruptly changed the subject. “That phenomenal trick of memory you do—computing without tables or reference books. Can you do it all the time?”

“Uh? Why, yes.”

“Do you know all the tables? Or just some of them?”

“I know all the standard tables and manuals that are what an astrogator calls his ‘working tools.'” Max started to tell about his uncle, Walther interrupted gently.

“If you please, sir. I’m glad to hear it. I’m very glad to hear it. Because the only such books in this ship are the ones in your head.”

Kelly had missed the books, of course—not Walther. When he disclosed his suspicions to Walther the two conducted a search. When that failed, it was announced that one (but only one) set was missing; Walther had offered a reward, and the ship had been combed from stern to astrodome—no manuals.

“I suppose he ditched them dirtside,” Walther finished. You know where that leaves us—we’re in a state of seige. And we’d find them only by accident if we weren’t. So I’m very glad you have the same confidence in your memory that Kelly has.”

Max was beginning to have misgivings—it is one thing to do something as a stunt, quite another to do it of necessity. “It isn’t that bad,” he answered. “Perhaps Kelly never thought of it, but logarithms and binary translation tables can probably be borrowed from engineering—with those we could fudge up methods for any straight hop. The others are needed mostly for anomalous transitions.”

“Kelly thought of that, too. Tell me, Captain, how does a survey ship go back after it penetrates a newly located congruency?”

“Huh? So that is what you want me to do with the ship?”

“It is not for me,” Walther said formally, “to tell the Captain where to take his ship.”

Max said slowly, “I’ve thought about it. I’ve had a lot of time to think lately.” He did not add that he had dwelt on it nights in captivity to save his reason. “Of course, we don’t have the instruments that survey ships carry, nor does applied astrogation go much into the theory of calculating congruencies. And even some survey ships don’t come back.”

“But… ” They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A steward’s mate came in and loaded the table with food. Max felt himself starting to drool.

He spread a slice of toast with butter and jam, and took a big bite. “My, this is good!”

“I should have realized. Have a banana, sir? They look quite good—I believe hydroponics has had to thin them out lately.”

Max shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat bananas again. Or pawpaws.” “Allergic, Captain?”

“Not exactly. Well… yes.”

He finished the toast and said, “About that possibility. I’ll let you know later.” “Very well, Captain.”

Shortly before the dinner hour Max stood in front of the long mirror in the Captain’s bedroom and looked at himself. His hair was short again and two hours sleep had killed some of his fatigue. He settled a cap on his head at the proper angle—the name in the sweat band was “Hendrix”; he had found it laid out with one of his own uniforms to which captain’s insignia had been added. The sunburst on his chest bothered him—that he was indeed captain he conceded, even though it seemed like a wild dream, but he had felt that he was not entitled to anything but the smaller sunburst and circle, despite his four stripes.

Walther and Samuels had been respectful but firm, with Samuels citing precedents that Max could not check on. Max had given in.

He looked at himself, braced his shoulders, and sighed. He might as well go face them. As he walked down the companionway to the lounge he heard the speakers repeating, “All hands! All passengers! Report to Bifrost Lounge!”

The crowd made way for him silently. He went to the Captain’s table—his table!—and sat down at its head. Walther was standing by the chair. “Good evening, Captain.”

“Evening, Mr. Walther.”

Ellie was seated across from him. She caught his eye and smiled. “Hello, Ellie.” He felt himself blushing.

“Good evening, Captain,” she said firmly. She was dressed in the same high style she had worn the first time he had ever seen her in the lounge; it did not seem possible that this lady could be the same girl whose dirty face had looked at him over three-dee boards scratched in dirt.

“Uh, how are your feet?”

“Bandages and bedroom slippers. But the Surgeon did a fine job. I’ll be dancing tomorrow.” “Don’t rush it.”

She looked at his stripes and his chest. “You should talk.”

Before he could answer the unanswerable Walther leaned over and said quietly, “We’re ready, Captain.” “Oh. Go ahead.” Walther tapped on a water glass.

The First Officer explained the situation in calm tones that made it seem reasonable, inevitable. He concluded by saying, “… and so, in accordance with law and the custom of space, I have relinquished my temporary command to your new captain. Captain Jones!”

Max stood up. He looked around, swallowed, tried to speak, and couldn’t. Then, as effectively as if it had been a dramatic pause and not desperation, he picked up his water tumbler and took a sip. “Guests and fellow crewmen,” he said, “we can’t stay here. You know that. I have been told that our Surgeon calls the system we are up against here’symbiotic enslavement’—like dog to man, only more so, and apparently covering the whole animal kingdom on this planet. Well, men aren’t meant for slavery, symbiotic or any sort. But we are too few to win out now, so we must leave.”

He stopped for another sip and Ellie caught his eye, encouraging him. “Perhaps someday other men will come back—better prepared. As for us, I am going to try to take the Asgard back through the… uh, ‘hole’ you might call it, where we came out. It’s a chancy thing. No one is forced to come along—but it is the only possible way to get home. Anyone who’s afraid to chance it will be landed on the north pole of planet number three—the evening star we have been calling ‘Aphrodite.’ You may be able to survive there, although it is pretty hot even at the poles. If you prefer that alternative, turn your names in this

evening to the Purser. The rest of us will try to get home.” He stopped, then said suddenly, “That’s all,” and sat down.

There was no applause and he felt glumly that he had muffed his first appearance. Conversation started up around the room, crewmen left, and steward’s mates quickly started serving. Ellie looked at him and nodded quietly. Mrs. Mendoza was on his left; she said, “Ma—I mean ‘Captain’—is it really so dangerous? I hardly like the thought of trying anything risky. Isn’t there something else we can do?”

“No.”

“But surely there must be?”

“No. I’d rather not discuss it at the table.”

“But… ” He went on firmly spooning soup, trying not to tremble. When he looked up he was caught by a glittering eye across the table, a Mrs. Montefiore, who preferred to be called “Principessa”—a dubious title. “Dolores, don’t bother him. We want to hear about his adventures—don’t we, Captain?”

“No.”

“Come now! I hear that it was terribly romantic.” She drawled the word and gave Ellie a sly, sidelong look. She looked back at Max with the eye of a predatory bird and showed her teeth. She seemed to have more teeth than was possible. “Tell us all about it!”

“No.”

“But you simply can’t refuse!”

Eldreth smiled at her and said, “Princess darling—your mouth is showing.” Mrs. Montefiore shut up.

After dinner Max caught Walther alone. “Mr. Walther?” “Oh—yes, Captain?”

“Am I correct in thinking that it is my privilege to pick the persons who sit at my table?” “Yes, sir.”

“In that case—that Montefiore female. Will you have her moved, please? Before breakfast?” Walther smiled faintly. “Aye aye, sir.”

THE CAPTAIN OF THE ASGARD

They took Sam down and buried him where he had fallen. Max limited it to himself and Walther and Giordano, sending word to Ellie not to come. There was a guard of honor but it was armed to kill and remained spread out around the grave, eyes on the hills. Max read the service in a voice almost too low to be heard—the best he could manage.

Engineering had hurriedly prepared the marker, a pointed slab of stainless metal. Max looked at it before he placed it and thought about the inscription. “Greater love hath no man”?—no, he had decided that Sam wouldn’t like that, with his cynical contempt of all sentimentality. He had considered, “He played the cards he was dealt”—but that didn’t fit Sam either; if Sam didn’t like the cards, he sometimes slipped in a whole new deck. No, this was more Sam’s style; he shoved it into the ground and read it:

IN MEMORY OF

SERGEANT SAM ANDERSON LATE OF THE

IMPERIAL MARINES

“He ate what was set before him.”

Walther saw the marker for the first time. “So that’s how it was? Somehow I thought so.” “Yes. I never did know his right name. Richards. Or maybe Roberts.”

“Oh.” Walther thought over the implication. “We could get him reinstated, sir, posthumously. His prints will identify him.”

“I think Sam would like that.”

“I’ll see to it, sir, when we get back.” “If we get back.”

“If you please, Captain—when we get back.”

Max went straight to the control room. He had been up the evening before and had gotten the first shock of being treated as captain in the Worry Hole over with. When Kelly greeted him with, “Good morning, Captain,” he was able to be almost casual.

“Morning, Chief. Morning, Lundy.” “Coffee, sir?”

“Thanks. About that parking orbit—is it set up?” “Not yet, sir.”

“Then forget it. I’ve decided to head straight back. We can plan it as we go. Got the films?”

“I picked them up earlier.” They referred to the films cached in Max’s stateroom. Simes had managed to do away with the first set at the time of Captain Blaine’s death; the reserve set was the only record of when and where the Asgard had emerged into this space, including records of routine sights taken immediately after transition.

“Okay. Let’s get busy. Kovak can punch for me.”

The others were drifting in, well ahead of time, as was customary in Kelly’s gang. “If you wish, sir. I’d be

glad to compute for the Captain.”

“Kovak can do it. You might help Noguchi and Lundy with the films.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Data flowed to him presently. He had awakened twice in the night in cold fright that he had lost his unique memory. But when the data started coming, he programmed without effort, appropriate pages opening in his mind. The problem was a short departure to rid themselves of the planet’s influence, an adjustment of position to leave the local sun “behind” for simpler treatment of its field, then a long, straight boost for the neighborhood in which they had first appeared in this space. It need not be precise, for transition would not be attempted on the first pass; they must explore the area, taking many more photographic sights and computing from them, to establish a survey that had never been made.

Departure was computed and impressed on tape for the autopilot and the tape placed in the console long before noon. The ship had been keeping house on local time, about fifty-five standard minutes to the hour; now the ship would return to Greenwich, the time always kept in the control room—dinner would be late and some of the “beasts” would as usual reset their watches the wrong way and blame it on the government.

They synchronized with the power room, the tape started running, there remained nothing to do but press the button a few seconds before preset time and thereby allow the autopilot to raise ship. The phone rang, Smythe took it and looked at Max. “For you, Captain. The Purser.”

“Captain?” Samuels sounded worried. “I dislike to disturb you in the control room.” “No matter. What is it?”

“Mrs. Montefiore. She wants to be landed on Aphrodite.” Max thought a moment. “Anybody else change his mind?” “No, sir.”

“They were all notified to turn in their names last night.”

“I pointed that out to her, sir. Her answers were not entirely logical.”

“Nothing would please me more than to dump her there. But after all, we are responsible for her. Tell her no.

“Aye aye, sir. May I have a little leeway in how I express it?” “Certainly. Just keep her out of my hair.”

Max flipped off the phone, found Kelly at his elbow. “Getting close, sir. Perhaps you will take the console now and check the set up? Before you raise?”

“Eh? No, you take her up, Chief. You’ll have the first watch.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Kelly sat down at the console, Max took the Captain’s seat, feeling self-conscious. He wished that he had learned to smoke a pipe—it looked right to have the Captain sit back, relaxed and smoking his pipe, while the ship maneuvered.

He felt a slight pulsation and was pressed more firmly into the chair cushions; the Asgard was again on her own private gravity, independent of true accelerations. Moments later the ship raised, but with

nothing to show it but the change out the astrodome from blue sky to star-studded ebony of space.

Max got up and found that he was still holding an imaginary pipe, he hastily dropped it. “I’m going below, Chief. Call me when the departure sights are ready to compute. By the way, what rotation of watches do you plan on?”

Kelly locked the board, got up and joined him. “Well, Captain. I had figured on Kovak and me heel-and-toe, with the boys on one in three. We’ll double up later.”

Max shook his head. “No. You and me and Kovak. And we’ll stay on one in three as long as possible. No telling how long we’ll fiddle around out there before we take a stab at it.”

Kelly lowered his voice. “Captain, may I express an opinion?”

“Kelly, any time you stop being frank with me, I won’t have a chance of swinging this. You know that.”

“Thank you, sir. The Captain should not wear himself out. You have to do all the computing as it is.” Kelly added quietly, “The safety of your ship is more important than—well, perhaps ‘pride’ is the word.”

Max took a long time to reply. He was learning, without the benefit of indoctrination, that a commanding officer is not permitted foibles commonplace in any other role; he himself is ruled more strongly by the powers vested in him than is anyone else. The Captain’s privileges—such as chucking a tiresome female from his table—were minor, while the penalties of the inhuman job had unexpected ramifications.

“Chief,” he said slowly, “is there room to move the coffee mess over behind the computer?” Kelly measured the space with his eye. “Yes, sir. Why?”

“I was thinking that would leave room over here to install a cot.” “You intend to sleep up here, sir?”

“Sometimes. But I was thinking of all of us—you shave up here half the time, as it is. The watches for the next few weeks do not actually require the O.W. to be awake most of the time, so we’ll all doss off when we can. What do you think?”

“It’s against regulations, sir. A bad precedent… and a bad example.” He glanced over at Noguchi and Smythe.

“You would write it up formal and proper, for my signature, citing the regulation and suspending it on an emergency basis ‘for the safety of the ship.'”

“If you say so, sir.”

“You don’t sound convinced, so maybe I’m wrong. Think it over and let me know.”

The cot appeared and the order was posted, but Max never saw either Kelly or Kovak stretched out on the cot. As for himself, had he not used it, he would have had little sleep.

He usually ate in the control room as well. Although there was little to do on their way out to rendezvous with nothingness but take sights to determine the relations of that nothingness with surrounding sky, Max found that when he was not computing he was worrying, or discussing his worries with Kelly.

How did a survey ship find its way back through a newly calculated congruency? And what had gone wrong with those that failed to come back? Perhaps Dr. Hendrix could have figured the other side of an

uncharted congruency using only standard ship’s equipment—or perhaps not. Max decided that Dr. Hendrix could have done it; the man had been a fanatic about his profession, with a wide knowledge of the theoretical physics behind the routine numerical computations—much wider, Max was sure, than most astrogators.

Max knew that survey ships calculated congruencies from both sides, applying to gravitational field theory data gathered on the previously unknown side. He made attempts to rough out such a calculation, then gave up, having no confidence in his results—he was sure of his mathematical operations but unsure of theory and acutely aware of the roughness of his data. There was simply no way to measure accurately the masses of stars light-years away with the instruments in the Asgard.

Kelly seemed relieved at his decision. After that they both gave all their time to an attempt to lay out a “groove” to the unmarked point in the heavens where their photosights said that they had come out—in order that they might eventually scoot down that groove, arriving at the locus just below the speed of light, then kick her over and hope.

A similar maneuver on a planet’s surface would be easy—but there is no true parallel with the situation in the sky. The “fixed” stars move at high speeds and there are no other landmarks; to decide what piece of featureless space corresponds with where one was at another time requires a complicated series of calculations having no “elegant” theoretical solutions. For each charted congruency an astrogator has handed to him a table of precalculated solutions—the “Critical Tables for Charted Anomalies.” Max and Kelly had to fudge up their own.

Max spent so much time in the control room that the First Officer finally suggested that passenger morale would be better if he could show himself in the lounge occasionally. Walther did not add that Max should wear a smile and a look of quiet confidence, but he implied it. Thereafter Max endeavored to dine with his officers and passengers.

He had of course seen very little of Eldreth. When he saw her at the first dinner after Walther’s gentle suggestion she seemed friendly but distant. He decided that she was treating him with respect, which made him wonder if she were ill. He recalled that she had originally come aboard in a stretcher, perhaps she was not as rugged as she pretended to be. He made a mental note to ask the Surgeon—indirectly, of course!

They were dawdling over coffee and Max was beginning to fidget with a desire to get back to the Worry Hole. He reminded himself sharply that Walther expected him not to show anxiety—then looked around and said loudly, “This place is like a morgue. Doesn’t anyone dance here these days? Dumont!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Let’s have some dance music. Mrs. Mendoza, would you honor me?”

Mrs. Mendoza tittered and accepted. She turned out to be a disgrace to Argentina, no sense of rhythm. But he piloted her around with only minor collisions and got her back to her chair, so timed that he could bow out gracefully. He then exercised the privilege of rank by cutting in on Mrs. Daigler. Maggie’s hair was still short but her splendor otherwise restored.

“We’ve missed you, Captain.”

“I’ve been working. Short-handed, you know.”

“I suppose so. Er… Captain, is it pretty soon now?’

“Before we transit? Not long. It has taken this long because we have had to do an enormous number of fiddlin’ calculations—to be safe, you know.”

“Are we really going home?”

He gave what he hoped was a confident smile. “Absolutely. Don’t start any long book from the ship’s library; the Purser won’t let you take it dirtside.”

She sighed. “I feel better.”

He thanked her for the waltz, looked around, saw Mrs. Montefiore and decided that his obligation to maintain morale did not extend that far. Eldreth was seated, so he went to her. “Feet still bothering you, Ellie?”

“No, Captain. Thank you for asking.” “Then will you dance with me?”

She opened her eyes wide. “You mean the Captain has time for po’ li’l ole me?”

He leaned closer. “One more crack like that, dirty face, and you’ll be tossed into irons.” She giggled and wrinkled her nose. “Aye aye, Captain, sir.”

For a while they danced without talking, with Max a little overpowered by her nearness and wondering why he had not done this sooner. Finally she said, “Max? Have you given up three-dee permanently?”

“Huh? Not at all. After we make this transit I’ll have time to play—if you’ll spot me two starships.”

“I’m sorry I ever told you about that. But I do wish you would say hello to Chipsie sometimes. She was asking this morning, ‘Where Maxie?'”

“Oh, I am sorry. I’d take her up to the control room with me occasionally, except that she might push a button and lose us a month’s work. Go fetch her.”

“The crowd would make her nervous. We’ll go see her.” He shook his head. “Not to your room.”

“Huh? Don’t be silly. I’ve got no reputation left anyhow, and a captain can do as he pleases.”

“That shows you’ve never been a captain. See that vulture watching us?” He indicated Mrs. Montefiore with his eyes. “Now go get Chipsie and no more of your back talk.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

He scratched Chipsie’s chin, fed her sugar cubes, and assured her that she was the finest spider puppy in that part of the sky. He then excused himself.

He was feeling exhilarated and oddly reassured. Seeing Mr. Walther disappearing into his room, he paused at the companionway and on impulse followed him. A matter had been worrying him, this was as good a time as any.

“Dutch? Are you busy?”

The First Officer turned. “Oh. No, Captain. Come in.”

Max waited during the ceremonial coffee, then broached it. “Something on my mind, Mr. Walther—a personal matter.”

“Anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so. But you’re a lot more experienced than I am; I’d like to tell you about it.” “If the Captain wishes.”

“Look, Dutch, this is a ‘Max’ matter, not a ‘Captain’ matter.”

Walther smiled. “All right. But don’t ask me to change my form of address. I might pick up a bad habit.”

“Okay, okay.” Max had intended to sound out Walther about his phony record: had Dr. Hendrix reported it? Or hadn’t he?

But he found it impossible to follow that line; being a captain had forced him into a different mold. “I want to tell you how I got into this ship.” He told it all, not suppressing Sam’s part now that it no longer could hurt Sam. Walther listened gravely.

“I’ve been waiting for you to mention this, Captain,” he said at last. “Dr. Hendrix reported it to me, in less detail, when he put you up for apprentice astrogator. We agreed that it was a matter that need not be raised inside the ship.”

“It’s what happens after we get back that frets me. If we get back.” “When we get back. Are you asking for advice? Or help? Or what?” “I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Mmmm… there are two alternatives. One we could handle here, by altering a not very important report. In which…”

“No, Dutch. I won’t have phony reports going out of the Asgard.”

“I was fairly certain you would say that. I feel the same way, except that I would feel obligated for—well, various reasons—to cover up for you if you asked it.”

“I once intended to arrange a phony on it. I even felt justified. But I can’t do it now.”

“I understand. The remaining alternative is to report it and face the music. In which case I’ll see it through with you—and so will the Chief Engineer and the Purser, I feel sure.”

Max sat back, feeling warm and happy. “Thanks, Dutch. I don’t care what they do to me… just as long as it doesn’t keep me out of space.”

“I don’t think they’ll try to do that, not if you bring this ship in. But if they do—well, they’ll know they’ve been in a fight. Meantime try to forget it.”

“I’ll try.” Max frowned. “Dutch? Tell me the truth, what do you think about the stunt I pulled?” “That’s a hard question, Captain. More important is, how do you feel about it?”

“Me? I don’t know. I know how I used to feel—I felt belligerent.” “Eh?”

“I was always explaining—in my mind of course—why I did it, justifying myself, pointing out that the system was at fault, not me. Now I don’t want to justify myself. Not that I regret it, not when I think what I would have missed. But I don’t want to duck out of paying for it, either.”

Walther nodded. “That sounds like a healthy attitude. Captain, no code is perfect. A man must conform with judgment and commonsense, not with blind obedience. I’ve broken rules; some violations I paid for, some I didn’t. This mistake you made could have turned you into a moralistic prig, a ‘Regulation Charlie’ determined to walk the straight and narrow and to see that everyone else obeyed the letter of the law. Or it could have made you a permanent infant who thinks rules are for everyone but him. It doesn’t seem to have had either effect; I think it has matured you.”

Max grinned. “Well, thanks, Dutch.” He stood up. “I’ll get back up to the Hole and mess up a few figures.”

“Captain? Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Me? Oh, sure, I get a nap almost every watch.”

“Minus four hours, Captain.” Max sat up on the cot in the control room, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The Asgard was in the groove, had been boosting along it for days, working up to that final burst that would squeeze them out of this space and into another—one they knew or some other, depending on how well their “fudging” had conformed to the true structure of the universe.

Max blinked at Kelly. “How long have you been up here?” “Not long, Captain.”

“Did you get any sleep?” “Well, now, Captain…”

“Forget it, you’re incorrigible. Got one ready?” “Yes, sir.”

“Shoot.” Max sat on the cot while they passed data to him, eyes closed while he programmed the problem and translated it into the binary numbers the computer understood. He had not been out of the Hole more than a few minutes at a time for days. He would doze between sights, wake up and process one, then lie down again.

He had kept Kelly and Kovak on watch-and-watch as long as possible—although it was hard to get Kelly to rest. Lundy, Smythe, and Noguchi had continued to rotate, overlapping when the going got faster in order to help each other with plate changing and readings. For Max there could be no relief; he must process each sight, supplying from his card-file memory the information in the missing manuals.

All the Worry gang were there but Lundy. He came up as Max finished and ordered the correction. “Compliments of cookie,” he announced, setting down a gallon of ice cream.

“What flavor?” asked Max. “Chocolate chip, sir.”

“My favorite. Just remember when you are dishing it that efficiency marks will be coming up one of these days.”

“Now, Captain, that’s not fair. The Chief has a lot more mass to feed than you have.” “And I have a very high metabolic rate,” announced Noguchi. “I need more.”

“Noggy, you have a built-in space warp in each leg. We’ll let Kelly dish it and hope that pride will restrain him.” Max turned to Kelly. “What schedule are we on?”

“Twenty minutes, Captain.” “Think we need that so soon?” “Just to be safe, sir.”

“Okay.” They ran another sight and ate the ice cream, after which Max shifted them to transition stations. Kelly did not take the computer. A key punched by Kovak gave the same answer as one punched by Kelly, and Max wanted Kelly on the vernier stereograph where his long experience could make the best of poor data. Lundy assisted Kelly, with Smythe and Noguchi shooting and running.

At minus two hours Max called Compagnon, told him that they were narrowing down; the Chief Engineer assured him that he would nurse boost and vector himself from there on. “Good hunting, Captain.”

On a ten minute schedule Max still found it easy, though he had to admit he wasn’t as fresh as a still-warm egg. But he was kept comfortably busy and the corrections were pleasantly

small—Compagnon must be doing a real job down there. When the preset on the computer said less than one hour to zero, he stood up and stretched. “Everybody all set. Somebody wake up Noggy.

Everybody got a pepper pill in him? And who’s got one for me?”

Kovak leaned back and handed him one, Max popped it into his mouth and downed it with a swig of coffee. “Grab a last sandwich if you’re going to. All right, gang—let’s hit it!”

The data flowed in a steady stream. After a while Max began to tire. He would no more than pick one correction off the lights on the computer and feed it to the power room than Kelly would have more data ready. A correction showed up that seemed off the curve, as if they were “hunting” excessively. He glanced back at the lights before applying it—then realized that a new set of data was being offered.

“Repeat!” he called out.

Kelly repeated. Max ran the figures over in his mind and found that they meant nothing to him. What had that last correction implied? Had he used a legitimate method in surveying this anomaly? Could you even call it surveying? Was this what a survey ship did to get out? How could they expect a man to…

“Captain!” Kelly said sharply.

He shook his head and sat up. “Sorry. Hold the next one.” With a feeling of panic he reviewed the data in his mind and tried to program. He knew at last how it felt to have the deadline bearing down fast as light—and to lose confidence.

He told himself that he must abort—slide past under the speed of light, spend weeks swinging back, and try again. But he knew that if he did, his nerve would never sustain him for a second try.

At that bad moment a feeling came over him that someone was standing behind his chair, resting hands

on his shoulders—quieting him, soothing him. He began clearly and sharply to call off figures to Kovak.

He was still calling them out with the precision of an automaton twenty minutes later. He accepted one more sight, digested it, sent it on to Kovak with his eyes on the preset. He applied the correction, a tiny one, and called out, “Stand by!” He pressed the button that allowed the chronometer to kick it over on the microsecond. Only then did he look around, but there was no one behind him.

“There’s the Jeep!” he heard Kelly say exultantly. “And there’s the Ugly Duckling!” Max looked up. They were back in the familiar sky of Nu Pegasi and Halcyon.

Five minutes later Kelly and Max were drinking cold coffee and cleaning up the remains of a plate of sandwiches while Noguchi and Smythe completed the post-transition sights. Kovak and Lundy had gone below for a few minutes relief before taking the first watch. Max glanced again at the astrodome. “So we made it. I never thought we would.”

“Really, Captain? There was never any doubt in my mind after you took command.” “Hmmm! I’m glad you didn’t know how I felt.”

Kelly ignored this. “You know, sir, when you are programming your voice sounds amazingly like the Doctor’s.”

Max looked at him sharply. “I had a bad time there once,” he said slowly. “Shortly before zip.” “Yes, sir. I know.”

“Then—Look, this was just a feeling, you see? I don’t go for ghosts. But I had the notion that Doc was standing over me, the way he used to, checking what I did. Then everything was all right.”

Kelly nodded. “Yes. He was here. I was sure he would be.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Kelly would not explain. He turned instead to inspect post-transition plates, comparing them happily with standard plates from the chart safe—the first such opportunity since the ship was lost.

“I suppose,” said Max when Kelly was through, “that we had better rough out an orbit for Nu Pegasi before we sack in.” He yawned. “Brother, am I dead!”

Kelly said, “For Nu Pegasi, sir?”

“Well, we can’t shoot for Halcyon itself at this distance. What did you have in mind?” “Nothing, sir.”

“Spill it.”

“Well, sir, I guess I had assumed that we would reposition for transit to Nova Terra. But if that is what the Captain wants—”

Max drummed on the chart safe. It had never occurred to him that anyone would expect him to do anything, after accomplishing the impossible, but to shape course for the easy, target-in-sight destination they had left from, there to wait for competent relief.

“You expected me to take her on through? With no tables and no help?” “I did not intend to presume, Captain. It was an unconscious assumption.”

Max straightened up. “Tell Kovak to hold her as she goes. Phone Mr. Walther to see me at once in my cabin.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The First Officer met him outside his cabin. “Hello, Dutch. Come in.” They entered and Max threw his cap on his desk. “Well, we made it.”

“Yes, sir. I was watching from the lounge.” “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Should I be, Captain?”

Max sprawled in his easy chair, stretching his weary back muscles. “You should be. Yes, sir, you should be.”

“All right. I’m surprised.”

Max looked up and scowled. “Dutch, where is this ship going now?” Walther answered, “The Captain has not yet told me.”

“Confound it! You know what I mean. Our schedule calls for Nova Terra. But there is Halcyon sitting right over there—a blind man could find it with a cane. What destination did you have in mind when you boosted me into command? Tell me what you expected then? Before you tagged me.”

“I had in mind,” Walther answered, “getting a captain for the Asgard.”

“That’s no answer. See here, the passengers have a stake in this. Sure, I had to take this risk for them, no choice. But now there is a choice. Shouldn’t we tell them and let them vote on it?”

Walther shook his head emphatically. “You don’t ask passengers anything, sir. Not in a ship underway. It is not fair to them to ask them. You tell them.”

Max jumped up and strode the length of the cabin. “‘Fair,’ you say. Fair! It’s not fair to me.” He swung and faced Walther. “Well? You’re not a passenger. You’re my First Officer. What do you think we should do?”

Walther stared him in the eye. “I can’t decide that for the Captain. That is why you are Captain.”

Max stood still and closed his eyes. The figures stood out clearly, in neat columns. He went to his phone and savagely punched the call for the control room. “Captain speaking. Is Kelly still there? Oh—good, Chief. We reposition for Nova Terra. Start work—I’ll be up in a minute.”

THE TOMAHAWK

Max liked this time of day, this time of year. He was lying in the grass on the little rise west of the barn, with his head propped up so that he could see to the northwest. If he kept his eyes there, on the exit ring of the C.S.&E. Ring Road, he would be able, any instant now, to see the Tomahawk plunge out and shoot across the gap in free trajectory. At the moment he was not reading, no work was pushing him, he was just being lazy and enjoying the summer evening.

A squirrel sat up near by, stared at him, decided he was harmless and went about its business. A bird swooped past.

There was a breathless hush, then suddenly a silver projectile burst out of the exit ring, plunged across the draw and entered the ring on the far side—just as the sound hit him.

“Boy, oh boy!” he said softly. “It never looks like they’d make it.”

It was all that he had climbed the rise to see, but he did not get up at once. Instead he pulled a letter from his pocket and reread the ending: “… I guess Daddy was glad to get me back in one piece because he finally relented. Putzie and I were married a week ago—and oh Max, I’m so happy! You must visit us the next time you hit dirt at Hespera.” She had added, “P.S. Mr. Chips sends her love—and so do I.”

Quite a gal, Ellie. She usually got her own way, one way or another. He felt a bit sorry for Putzie. Now if they had all stayed on Charity…

Never mind—an astrogator ought not to get married. Fondly he fingered the sunburst on his chest. Too bad he had not been able to stay with the Asgard—but of course they were right; he could not ship as assistant in a ship where he had once been skipper. And assistant astrogator of the Elizabeth Regina was a good billet, too; everybody said the Lizzie was a taut ship.

Besides that, not every young A.A. had a new congruency to his credit, even now being surveyed. He had nothing to kick about. He didn’t even mind the whopping big fine the Council of the Guilds had slapped on him, nor the official admonition that had been entered in his record. They had let him stay in space, which was the important thing, and the admonition appeared right along with the official credit for the “Hendrix” congruency.

And, while he didn’t argue the justice of the punishment—he’d been in the wrong and he knew it—nevertheless the guilds were set up wrong; the rules ought to give everybody a chance. Some day he’d be senior enough to do a little politicking on that point.

In the meantime, if he didn’t get moving, he’d have to buy that taxi. Max got up and started down the slope. The helicab was parked in front of the house and the driver was standing near it, looking out over the great raw gash of the Missouri-Arkansas Power Project. The fields Max once had worked were gone, the cut reached clear into the barn yard. The house was still standing but the door hung by one hinge and some kid had broken all the windows. Max looked at the house and wondered where Maw and the man she had married were now?—not that he really cared and no one around Clyde’s Corners seemed to know. They had told him at the courthouse that Maw had collected her half of the government-condemnation money and the pair of them had left town.

Probably their money was gone by now—Max’s half of the money was gone completely, it hadn’t quite paid his fine. If they were broke, maybe Montgomery was having to do some honest work, for Maw wasn’t the woman to let a man loaf when she was needing. The thought pleased Max; he felt he had a score to settle with Montgomery, but Maw was probably settling it for him.

The driver turned toward him. “Be a big thing when they get this finished. You ready to go, sir?”

Max took a last glance around. “Yes. I’m all through here.” They climbed into the cabin. “Where to? Back to the Corners?”

Max thought about it. He really ought to save money—but shucks, he would save plenty this next trip. “No, fly me over to Springfield and drop me at the southbound ring road station. I’d like to make it in time to catch the Javelin.”

That would put him in Earthport before morning.

The End

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
Link
Make America Great Again.
What would the founders think?

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight
Types of American conservatives.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

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Glory Road (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

This is the full Text of the novel by Robert Heinlein.

Of all the science fiction that is out there in the world, the fiction that is the closest approximation to the way things REALLY work in this universe is not something from Star Trek, or Star Wars. It is instead more like the Robert Heinlein novel “Glory Road”.

That is a very stark truth. Pay attention. Here, I present this novel in it’s entirety to the reader to consider.

Glory Road

Robert A. Heinlein

BRITANNUS (shocked): 
Caesar, this is not proper. 

THEODOTUS (outraged): 
How? 

CAESAR (recovering his self-possession): 
Pardon him Theodotus: he is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island are the laws of nature. 
 
Caesar and Cleopatra, Act II 
-George Bernard Shaw

Chapter 1

I know a place where there is no smog and no parking problem and no population explosion . . . no Cold War and no H-bombs and no television commercials . . . no Summit Conferences, no Foreign Aid, no hidden taxes–no income tax. The climate is the sort that Florida and California claim (and neither
has), the land is lovely, the people are friendly and hospitable to strangers, the women are beautiful and amazingly anxious to please-

I could go back. I could-

It was an election year with the customary theme of anything you can do I can do better, to a background of beeping sputniks. I was twenty-one but couldn’t figure out which party to vote against.

Instead I phoned my draft board and told them to send me that notice.

I object to conscription the way a lobster objects to boiling water: it may be his finest hour but it’s not his choice. Nevertheless I love my country. Yes, I do, despite propaganda all through school about how patriotism is obsolete. One of my great-grandfathers died at Gettysburg and my father made that long
walk back from Chosen Reservoir, so I didn’t buy this new idea. I argued against it in class–until it got me a “D,” in Social Studies, then I shut up and passed the course.

But I didn’t change my opinions to match those of a teacher who didn’t know Little Round Top from Seminary Ridge.

Are you of my generation? If not, do you know why we turned out so wrong-headed? Or did you just write us off as “juvenile delinquents?”

I could write a book. Brother! But I’ll note one key fact: After you’ve spent years and years trying to knock the patriotism out of a boy, don’t expect him to cheer when he gets a notice reading:

GREETINGS: You are hereby ordered for induction into the Armed Forces of the United States-

Talk about a “Lost Generation!” I’ve read that post-World-War-One jazz–Fitzgerald and Hemingway and so on–and it strikes me that all they had to worry about was wood alcohol in bootleg liquor. They had the world by the tail–so why were they crying?

Sure, they had Hitler and the Depression ahead of them. But they didn’t know that. We had Khrushchev and the H-bomb and we certainly did know.

But we were not a “Lost Generation.” We were worse; we were the “Safe Generation.” Not beatniks. The Beats were never more than a few hundred out of millions. Oh, we talked beatnik jive and dug cool sounds in stereo and disagreed with Playboy’s poll of jazz musicians just as earnestly as if it mattered. We
read Salinger and Kerouac and used language that shocked our parents and dressed (sometimes) in beatnik fashion. But we didn’t think that bongo drums and a beard compared with money in the bank. We weren’t rebels. We were as conformist as army worms. “Security” was our unspoken watchword.

Most of our watchwords were unspoken but we followed them as compulsively as a baby duck takes to water. “Don’t fight City Hall.” “Get it while the getting is good.” “Don’t get caught.” High goals, these, great moral values, and they all mean “Security.” “Going steady” (my generation’s contribution to the American Dream) was based on security; it insured that Saturday night could never be the loneliest night for the weak. If you went steady, competition was eliminated.

But we had ambitions. Yes, sir! Stall off your draft board and get through college. Get married and get her pregnant, with both families helping you to stay on as a draft-immune student. Line up a job well thought of by draft boards, say with some missile firm. Better yet, take postgraduate work if your folks (or hers) could afford it and have another kid and get safely beyond the draft–besides, a doctor’s degree was a union card, for promotion and pay and retirement.

Short of a pregnant wife with well-to-do parents the greatest security lay in being 4-F. Punctured eardrums were good but an allergy was best. One of my neighbors had a terrible asthma that lasted till his twenty-sixth birthday. No fake–he was allergic to draft boards. Another escape was to convince an army psychiatrist that your interests were more suited to the State Department than to the Army. More than half of my generation were “unfit for military service.”

I don’t find this surprising. There is an old picture of a people traveling by sleigh through deep woods–pursued by wolves. Every now and then they grab one of their number and toss him to the wolves. That’s conscription even if you call it “selective service” and pretty it up with USOs and “veterans’ benefits”–it’s tossing a minority to the wolves while the rest go on with that single-minded pursuit of the three-car garage, the swimming pool, and the safe & secure retirement benefits.

I am not being holier-than-thou; I was after that same three-car garage myself.

However, my folks could not put me through college. My stepfather was an Air Force warrant officer with all he could handle to buy shoes for his own lads. When he was transferred to Germany just before my high school senior year and I was invited to move in with my father’s sister and her husband, both of
us were relieved.

I was no better off financially as my uncle-in-law was supporting a first wife–under California law much like being an Alabama field hand before the Civil War. But I had $35 a month as a “surviving dependent of a deceased veteran.” (Not “war orphan,” which is another deal that pays more.) My mother
was certain that Dad’s death had resulted from wounds but the Veterans Administration thought differently, so I was just a “surviving dependent.”

$35 a month did not fill the hole I put in their groceries and it was understood that when I graduated I would root for myself. By doing my military time, no doubt–But I had my own plan; I played football and finished senior year season with the California Central Valley secondary school record for yards gained and a broken nose–and started in at the local State College the next fall with a job “sweeping the gym” at $10 more a month than that pension, plus fees.

I couldn’t see the end out my plan was clear: Hang on, teeth and toenails, and get an engineering degree. Avoid the draft and marriage. On graduation get a deferred-status job. Save money and pick up a law degree, too–because, back in Homestead, Florida, a teacher had pointed out that, while engineers made money, the big money and boss jobs went to lawyers. So I was going to beat the game, yes, sir! Be a Horatio Alger hero. I would have headed straight for that law degree but for the fact that the college did not offer law.

At the end of the season my sophomore year they deemphasized football.

We had had a perfect season–no wins. “Flash” Gordon (that’s me–in the sports write-ups) stood one in yardage and points; nevertheless Coach and I were out of jobs. Oh, I “swept the gym” the rest of that year on basketball, fencing, and track, but the alumnus who picked up the tab wasn’t interested in a basketball player who was only six feet one. I spent that summer pushing an idiot stick and trying to line up a deal elsewhere. I turned twenty-one that summer, which chopped that $35/month, too. Shortly after Labor Day I fell back on a previously prepared position, i.e., I made that phone call to my draft board.

I had in mind a year in the Air Force, then win a competitive appointment to the Air Force Academy–be an astronaut and famous, instead of rich.

Well, we can’t all be astronauts. The Air Force had its quota or something. I was in the Army so fast I hardly had time to pack.

So I set out to be the best chaplain’s clerk in the Army; I made sure that “typing” was listed as one of my skills. If I had anything to say about it, I was going to do my time at Fort Carson, typing neat copies while going to night school on the side.

I didn’t have anything to say about it. Ever been in Southeast Asia? It makes Florida look like a desert. Wherever you step it squishes. Instead of tractors they use water buffaloes. The bushes are filled with insects and natives who shoot at you. It wasn’t a war–not even a “Police Action.” We were “Military Advisers.” But a Military Adviser who has been dead four days in that heat smells the same way
a corpse does in a real war.

I was promoted to corporal. I was promoted seven times. To corporal.

I didn’t have the right attitude. So my company commander said. My daddy had been a Marine and my stepfather was Air Force; my only Army ambition had been to be a chaplain’s clerk Stateside. I didn’t like the Army. My company commander didn’t like the Army either; he was a first lieutenant who hadn’t
made captain and every time he got to brooding Corporal Gordon lost his stripes.

I lost them the last time for telling him that I was writing to my Congressman to find out why I was the only man in Southeast Asia who was going to be retired for old age instead of going home when his time was up–and that made him so mad he not only busted me but went out and was a hero, and then he was dead. And that’s how I got this scar across my broken nose because I was a hero, too, and should have received the Medal of Honor, only nobody was looking.

While I was recovering, they decided to send me home.

Major Ian Hay, back in the “War to End War,” described the structure of military organizations: Regardless of T.O., all military bureaucracies consist of a Surprise Party Department, a Practical Joke Department, and a Fairy Godmother Department. The first two process most matters as the third is very small; the Fairy Godmother Department is one elderly female GS-5 clerk usually out on sick leave.

But when she is at her desk, she sometimes puts down her knitting and picks a name passing across her desk and does something nice. You have seen how I was whipsawed by the Surprise Party and Practical Joke Departments; this time the Fairy Godmother Department picked Pfc. Gordon.

Like this–When I knew that I was going home as soon as my face healed (little brown brother hadn’t sterilized his bolo), I put in a request to be discharged in Wiesbaden, where my family was, rather than California, home of record. I am not criticizing little brown brother; he hadn’t intended me to heal at all–and he would have managed it if he hadn’t been killing my company commander and too hurried to do a good job on me. I hadn’t sterilized my bayonet but he didn’t complain, he just sighed and came apart, like a doll with its sawdust cut. I felt grateful to him; he not only had rigged the dice so that I got out of the Army, he also gave me a great idea.

He and the Ward surgeon–The Surgeon had said, “You’re going to get well, son. But you’ll be scarred like a Heidelberg student.”

Which got me thinking–You couldn’t get a decent job without a degree, any more than you could be a plasterer without being a son or nephew of somebody in the plasterers’ union. But there are degrees and degrees. Sir Isaac Newton, with a degree from a cow college such as mine, would wash bottles for Joe Thumbfingers–if Joe had a degree from a European university.

Why not Heidelberg? I intended to milk my G.I. benefits; I had that in mind when I put in that too hasty call to my draft board.

According to my mother everything was cheaper in Germany. Maybe I could stretch those benefits

into a doctor’s degree. Herr Doktor Gordon, mit scars on der face from Heidelberg yet!–that would rate an extra $3,000 a year from any missile firm.

Hell, I would fight a couple of student duels and add real Heidelberg scars to back up the dandy I had. Fencing was a sport I really enjoyed (though the one that counted least toward “sweeping the gym”). Some people cannot stand knives, swords, bayonets, anything sharp; psychiatrists have a word for it:
aichmophobia. Idiots who drive cars a hundred miles an hour on fifty-mile-an-hour roads will nevertheless panic at the sight of a bare blade.

I’ve never been bothered that way and that’s why I’m alive and one reason why I kept being bucked back to corporal. A “Military Adviser” can’t afford to be afraid of knives, bayonets, and such; he must cope with them. I’ve never been afraid of them because I’m always sure I can do unto another what he is planning to do unto me.

I’ve always been right, except that time I made the mistake of being a hero, and that wasn’t too bad a mistake. If I had tried to bug out instead of staying to disembowel him, he would have chopped my spine in two. As it was, he never got a proper swing at me; his jungle cutter just slashed my face as he came
apart–leaving me with a nasty wound that was infected long before the helicopters came. But I never felt it. Presently I got dizzy and sat down in the mud and when I woke up, a medic was giving me plasma.

I rather looked forward to trying a Heidelberg duel. They pad your body and arm and neck and put a steel guard on your eyes and nose and across your ears–this is not like encountering a pragmatic Marxist in the jungle. I once handled one of those swords they use in Heidelberg; it was a light, straight saber, sharp on the edge, sharp a few inches on the back–but a blunt point! A toy, suited only to make pretty scars for girls to admire.

I got a map and whaddayuh know!–Heidelberg is just down the road from Wiesbaden. So I requested my discharge in Wiesbaden.

The ward surgeon said, “You’re an optimist, son,” but initialed it. The medical sergeant in charge of paperwork said, “Out of the question, Soldier.” I won’t say money changed hands but the endorsement the hospital’s C.O. signed read FORWARDED. The ward agreed that I was bucking for a psycho; Uncle Sugar does not give free trips around the world to Pfcs.

I was already so far around that I was as close to Hoboken as to San Francisco–and closer to Wiesbaden. However, policy called for shipping returnees back via the Pacific. Military policy is like cancer: Nobody knows where it comes from but it can’t be ignored.

The Fairy Godmother Department woke up and touched me with its wand.

I was about to climb aboard a bucket called the General Jones bound for Manila, Taipei, Yokohama, Pearl, and Seattle when a dispatch came granting my USAREUR, Heidelberg, Germany, by available military transportation, for discharge, at own request see reference foxtrot. Accumulated leave could be
taken or paid, see reference bravo. Subject man was authorized to return to Zone Interior (the States) any time within twelve months of separation, via available military transportation at no further expense to the government. Unquote.

The paper-work sergeant called me in and showed me this, his face glowing with innocent glee. “Only there ain’t no ‘available transportation,’ Soldier–so haul ass aboard the General Jones. You’re going to Seattle, like I said.”

I knew what he meant: The only transport going west in a long, long time had sailed for Singapore thirty-six hours earlier. I stared at that dispatch, thinking about boiling oil and wondering if he had held it back just long enough to keep me from sailing under it.

I shook my head. “I’m going to catch the General Smith in Singapore. Be a real human type, Sarge, and cut me a set of orders for it.”

“Your orders are cut. For the Jones. For Seattle.”

“Gosh,” I said thoughtfully. “I guess I had better go cry on the chaplain.” I faded out fast but I didn’t see the chaplain; I went to the airfield. It took five minutes to find that no commercial nor U.S. military flight was headed for Singapore in time to do me any good.

But there was an Australian military transport headed for Singapore that night. Aussies weren’t even “military advisers” out often were around, as “military observers.” I found the planes skipper, a flight leftenant, and put the situation to him. He grinned and said, “Always room for one more bloke. Wheels up shortly after tea, likely. If the old girl will fly.”

I knew it would fly; it was a Gooney Bird, a C-47, mostly patches and God knows how many millions of miles. It would get to Singapore on one engine if asked. I knew my luck was in as soon as I saw that grand old collection of masking tape and glue sitting on the field.

Four hours later I was in her and wheels up.

I checked in aboard USMTS General Smith the next morning, rather wet–the Pride of Tasmania had flown through storms the night before and a Gooney Birds one weakness is that they leak. But who minds clean rain after jungle mud? The ship was sailing that evening which was grand news.

Singapore is like Hong Kong only flat; one afternoon was enough. I had a drink in the old Raffles, another in the Adelphi, got rained on in the Great World amusement peak walked through Change Alley with a hand on my money and the other on my orders–and bought an Irish Sweepstakes ticket.

I don’t gamble, if you will concede that poker is a game of skill. However this was a tribute to the goddess of fortune, thanks for a long run of luck. If she chose to answer with $140,000 US, I wouldn’t throw it in her face. If she didn’t . . . well, the tickets face value was one pound, $2.80 US; I paid $9.00 Singapore, or $3.00 US–a small gesture from a man who had just won a free trip around the world–not
to mention coming out of the jungle still breathing.

But I got my three dollars’ worth at once, as I fled out of Change Alley to avoid two dozen other walking banks anxious to sell me more tickets, Singapore dollars, any sort of money–or my hat if I let go of it–reached the street, hailed a cab, and told the driver to take me to the boat landing. This was a victory of spirit over flesh because I had been debating whether to snatch the chance to ease enormous biological back pressure. Good old Scarface Gordon had been an Eagle Scout awfully long and Singapore is one of the Seven Sinful Cities where anything may be had.

I am not implying that I had remained faithful to the Girl Next Door. The young lady back home who had taught me most about the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, with an amazing send-off the night before I was inducted, had “Dear-Johnned” me in basic training; I felt gratitude but no loyalty. She got married
soon after, now has two children, neither of them mine.

The real cause of my biological unease was geographical. Those little brown brothers I had been fitting, with and against, all had little brown sisters, many of whom could be had for a price, or even pour l’amour ou pour le sport.

But that had been all the local talent for a long time. Nurses? Nurses are officers–and the rare USO entertainer who got that far from Stateside was even more thoroughly blocked off than were nurses.

I did not object to little brown sisters because they were brown. I was as brown as they were, in my face, except for a long pink scar. I drew the line because they were little.

I was a hundred and ninety pounds of muscle and no fat, and I could never convince myself that a female four feet ten inches tall and weighing less than ninety pounds and looking twelve years old is in fact a freely consenting adult. To me it felt like a grim sort of statutory rape and produced psychic impotence.

Singapore looked like the place to find a big girl. But when I escaped from Change Alley, I suddenly didn’t like people, big or little, male or female, and headed for the ship–and probably saved myself from pox, Cupid’s catarrh, soft chancre, Chinese rot, saltwater itch, and athletes foot–the wisest decision I
had made since, at fourteen, I had declined to wrestle a medium-sized alligator.

I told the driver in English what landing I wanted, repeated it in memorized Cantonese (not too well; its a nine-toned language, and French and German are all I had in school), and showed him a map with the landing marked and its name printed in English and drawn in Chinese.

Everybody who left the ship was given one of these maps. In Asia every cab driver speaks enough English to take you to the Red Light district and to shops where you buy “bargains.” But be is never able to find your dock or boat landing.

My cabbie listened, glanced at the map, and said, “Okay, Mac. I dig it,” and took off and rounded a corner with tires squealing while shouting at peddle cabs, coolies, children, dogs. I relaxed, happy at having found this cabbie among thousands.

Suddenly I sat up and shouted for him to stop.

I must explain something; I can’t get lost.

Call it a “psi” talent, like that study they study at Duke. Mother used to say that sonny had a “bump of direction.” Call it what you will, I was six or seven before I realized that other people could get lost. I always know which way is north, the direction of the point where I started and how far away it is. I can
head straight back or retrace my steps, even in dark and jungle. This was the main reason why I was always promoted back to corporal and usually shoved into a sergeant’s job. Patrols I headed always came back–the survivors, I mean. This was comforting to city boys who didn’t want to be in that jungle anyhow.

I had shouted because the driver had swung right when he should have swung left and was about to cut back across his own trade

He speeded up.

I yelled again. He no longer dug English.

It was another mile and several tunas later when he had to stop because of a traffic jam. I got out and he jumped out and started screaming in Cantonese and pointing at the meter in his cab. We were surrounded by Chinese adding to the din and smaller ones plucking at my clothes. I kept my hand on my
money and was happy indeed to spot a cop. I yelled and caught his eye.

He came through the crowd brandishing a long staff. He was a Hindu; I said to him, “Do you speak English?”

“Certainly. And I understand American.” I explained my trouble, showed him the map, and said that the driver had picked me up at Chaise Alley and been driving in aides.

The cop nodded and talked with the driver in a third language–Malayan, I suppose. At last the cop said, “He doesn’t understand English. He thought you said to drive to Johore.”

The bridge to Johore is as far as you can get from the anchorage and still be on the Island of Singapore. I said angrily, “The hell he doesn’t understand English!”

The cap shrugged. “You hired him, you must pay what is on the taximeter. Then I will explain to him where you wish to go and arrange a fixed fee.”

“I’ll see him in hell first!”

“That is possible. The distance is quite short–in this neighborhood. I suggest that you pay. The waiting time is mounting up.”

There comes a time when a man must stand up for his rights, or he can’t bear to look at himself in a mirror to shave. I had already shaved, so I paid–$18.50 Sing., for wasting an hour and ending up farther from the landing. The driver wanted a tip but the cop shut him up and then let me walk with him.

Using both hands I hung onto my orders and money, and the Sweepstakes ticket folded in with the money. But my pen disappeared and cigarettes and handkerchief and a Ronson lighter. When I felt ghost fingers at the strap of my watch, I agreed to the cops suggestion that he had a cousin, an honest man,
who would drive me to my landing for a fixed–and moderate–fee.

The “cousin” turned out to be just coming down the street; half an hour later I was aboard ship. I shall never forget Singapore, a most educational city.

Chapter 2

Two months later on the French Riviera. The Fairy Godmother Department watched over me across the Indian Ocean, up the Red Sea, and clear to Napoli. I lived a healthy life, exercising and getting tan every morning, sleeping afternoons, playing poker at night. There are many people who do not. Know
the odds (poor, but computable) for improving a poker hand in the draw, but are anxious to learn. When we got to Italy I had a beautiful tan and a sizable nest egg.

Early in the voyage someone went broke and wanted to put a Sweepstakes ticket into the game. After some argument Sweepstakes tickets were made valuta at a discount, $2.00 USA per ticket. I finished the trip with fifty-three tickets.

Hitching a flight from Napoli to Frankfurt took only hours. Then the Fairy Godmother Department handed me back to the Surprise Party and Practical Joke Departments.

Before going to Heidelberg I ducked over to Wiesbaden to see my mother, my stepfather and the kids–and found that they had just left for the States, on their way to Elmendorf AFB in Alaska.

So I went to Heidelberg to be processed, and looked the town over while the led tape unwound.

Lovely town–Handsome castle, good beer, and big girls with rosy cheeks and shapes like Coca-Cola bottles–Yes, this looked like a nice place to get a degree. I started inquiring into rooms and such, and met a young kraut wearing a studenten cap and some face scars as ugly as mine–things were looking up.

I discussed my plans with the first sergeant of the transient company.

He shook his head. “Oh, you poor boy!”

Why? No G.I. benefits for Gordon–I wasn’t a veteran.

Never mind that scar. Never mind that I had killed more men in combat than you could crowd into a–well, never mind. That thing was not a “war” and Congress had not passed a bill providing educational benefits for us “Military Advisers.”

I suppose this was my own fault. All my life there had been “G.I. benefits”–why, I had shared a bench in chem lab with a veteran who was going to school on the G.I. Bill.

This fatherly sergeant said, “Don’t take it hard, son. Go home, get a job, wait a year. They’ll pass it and date it bade, almost certainly. You’re young.”

So here I was on the Riviera, a civilian, enjoying a taste of Europe before using that transportation home. Heidelberg was out of the question. Oh, the pay I hadn’t been able to spend in the jungle, plus accumulated leave, plus my winnings at poker, added up to a sum which would have kept me a year in
Heidelberg. But it would never stretch enough for a degree. I had been counting on that mythical “G.I. Bill” for eating money and on my cash as a cushion.

My (revised) plan was obvious. Grab that top home before my year was up–grab it before school opened. Use the cash I had to pay board to Aunt and Uncle, work next summer and see what turned up. With the draft no longer hanging over me I could find some way to sweat out that last year even if I couldn’t be “Heir Doktor Gordon.”

However, school didn’t open until fall and here it was spring. I was damn well going to see a little of Europe before I applied nose to grindstone; another such chance might never come.

There was another reason for waiting; those Sweepstakes tickets. The drawing for horses was coming up.

The Irish Sweepstakes starts as a lottery. First they sell enough tickets to paper Grand Central Station. The Irish hospitals get 25 percent and are the only sure winners. Shortly before the race they draw for horses. Let’s say twenty horses are entered. If your ticket fails to draw a horse, its wastepaper. (Oh, there are minor consolation prizes.)

But if you do draw a horse, you still haven’t won. Some horses won’t start. Of those that do, most of them chase the other horses. However, any ticket that draws any horse at all, even a goat that can barely walk to the paddock, that ticket suddenly acquires a value of thousands of dollars between the drawing
and the race. Just how much depends on how good the horse is. But prizes are high and the worst horse in the field has been known to win.

I had fifty-three tickets. If one of them drew a horse, I could sell that ticket for enough to put me through Heidelberg.

So I stayed and waited for the drawings.

Europe needn’t be expensive. A youth hostel is luxury to a man who has come out of the boondocks of Southeast Asia and even the French Riviera isn’t expensive if you approach it from underneath. I didn’t stay on La Promenade des Anglais; I had a tiny room four floors up and two kilometers back, and the shared use of some plumbing. There are wonderful night clubs in, Nice but you need not patronize them as the floor show at the beaches is as good . . . and free. I never appreciated what a high art the fan dance can be until the first time I watched a French girl get out of her clothes and into her bikini in plain sight of citizens, tourists, gendarmes, dogs–and me–all without quite violating the lenient French mores concerning “indecent exposure.” Or only momentarily.

Yes, sir, there are things to see and do on the French Riviera without spending money.

The beaches are terrible. Rocks. But rocks are better than jungle mud and I put on trunks and enjoyed the floor show and added to my tan. It was spring, before the tourist season and not crowded, but it was warm and summery and dry. I lay in the sun and was happy and my only luxury was a deposit box with
American Egress and the Paris edition of the N.Y. Herald Tribune and The Star’s & Stripes. These I would glance over to see how the Powers-that-be were mismanaging the world, then look for what was new in the unWar I had just been let out of (usually no mention, although we had been told that we were
“saving civilization”), then get down to important matters, i.e., news of the Irish Sweepstakes, plus the possibility that The Stars & Stripes might announce that it had all been a hideous dream and I was entitled to educational benefits after all.

Then came crossword puzzles and “Personal” ads. I always read “Personals”; they are a naked look into private lives. Things like: ‘M.L. phone R.S. before noon. Money.’ Makes you wonder who did what to whom, and who got paid?

Presently I found a still cheaper way to live with an even better floor show. Have you heard of l’Il du Levant? It is an island off the Riviera between Marseilles and Nice, and is much like Catalina. It has a village at one end and the French Navy has blocked off the other for guided missiles; the rest of it is hills and beaches and grottoes. There are no automobiles, nor even bicycles. The people who go there don’t want to be reminded of the outside world.

For ten dollars a day you can enjoy luxury equal to forty dollars a day in Nice. Or you can pay five cents a dry for camping and live on a dollar a day–which I did–and there are good cheap restaurants anytime you get tired of cooking.

It is a place that seems to have no rules of any sort. Wait a minute; there is one. Outside the village, Heliopolis, is a sign: LE NU INTEGRAL EST FORMELLEMENT INTERDIT. (“Complete nakedness is strictly forbidden.”)

This means that everyone, man or woman, must put on a little triangle of cloth, a cache-sexe, a G-string, before going inside the village.

Elsewhere, on beaches and in camping grounds and around the island, you don’t have to wear a damned thing and nobody does.

Save for the absence of automobiles and clothes, the Isle of the Levant is like any other bit of back-country France. There is a shortage of fresh water, but the French don’t drink water and you bathe in the Mediterranean and for a franc you can buy enough fresh water for half a dozen sponge baths to rinse cm the salt. Take the train from Nice or Marseilles, get off at Toulon and take a bus to Lavandou, then by boat (an hour and a few minutes) to l’Ile du Levant–then chuck away your cares with your clothes.

I found I could buy the Herald-Trib, a day old, in the village, at the same place (“Au Minimum,” Mme. Alexandre) where I rented a tent and camping gear. I bought groceries at La Brise Marine and camped above La Plage des Grottes, close to the village, and settled down and let my nerves relax while I enjoyed the floor show.

Some people disparage the female form divine. Sex is too good for them; they should have been oysters. All gals are good to look at (including little brown sisters even though they scared me); the only difference is that some look better than others. Some were fat and some were skinny and some were old
and some were young. Some looked as if they had stepped straight out of Les Folies Bergeres. I got acquainted with one of those and I wasn’t far off; she was a Swedish girl who was a “nue” in another Paris revue. She practiced English on me and I practiced French on her, and she promised to cook me a Swedish dinner if I was ever in Stockholm and I cooked her a dinner over an alcohol lamp and we got giggly on vin ordinaire, and she wanted to know how I had acquired my scar and I told some lies. Marjatta was good for an old soldiers nerves and I was sad when she had to leave.

But the floor show went on. Three days later I was sitting on Grotto Beach, leaning against a rock and working the crossword puzzle, when suddenly I got cross-eyed trying not to stare at the most stare-able woman I have ever seen in my life.

Woman, girl–I couldn’t be sure. At first glance I thought she was eighteen, maybe twenty; later when I was able to look her square in her face she still looked eighteen but could have been forty. Or a hundred and forty. She had the agelessness of perfect beauty. Like Helen or Troy, or Cleopatra. It seemed
possible that she was Helen of Troy but I knew she wasn’t Cleopatra because she was not a redhead; she was a natural blonde. She was a tawny toast color allover without a hint of bikini marks and her hair was the same shade two tones litter. It flowed, unconfined, in graceful waves down her back and seemed never to have been cut.

She was tall, not much shorter than I am, and not too much litter in weight. Not fat, not fat at all save for that graceful padding that smoothes the feminine form, shading the muscles underneath–I was sure there were muscles underneath; she carried herself with the relaxed power of a lioness.

Her shoulders were broad for a woman, as broad as her very female hips; her waist might have seemed thick on a lesser woman, on her it was deliciously slender. Her belly did not sag at all but carried the lovely double-domed curve of perfect muscle tone. Her breasts–only her big rib cage could carry such
large ones without appearing too much of a good thing, they jutted firmly out and moved only a trifle when she moved, and they were crowned with rosy brown confections that were frankly nipples, womanly and not virginal.

Her navel was that jewel the Persian poets praised.

Her legs were long for her height; her hands and feet were not small but were slender, graceful. She was graceful in all ways; it was impossible to think of her in a pose ungraceful. Yet she was so lithe and limber that, like a cat, she could have twisted herself into any position.

Her face–How do you describe perfect beauty except to say that when you see it you can’t mistake it? Her lips were full and her mouth rather wide. It was faintly curved in the ghost of a smile even when her features were at rest. Her lips were red but if she was wearing makeup of any sort it had been applied so skillfully that I could not detect it–and that alone would have made her stand out, for that was a year all other females were wearing “Continental” makeup, as artificial as a corset and as bold as a doxy’s smile.

Her nose was straight and large enough for her face, no button. Her eyes-

She caught me staring at her. Certainly women expect to be locked at and expect it unclothed quite as much as when dressed for the ball. But it is rude to stare openly. I had given up the fight in the first ten seconds and was trying to memorize her, every line, every curve.

Her eyes locked with mine and she stared back and I began to blush but couldn’t look away. Her eyes were so deep a blue that they were dark, darker than my own brown eyes.

I said huskily, “Pardonnez-moi, ma’m’selle,” and managed to tear my eyes away.

She answered, in English, “Oh, I don’t mind. Look all you please,” and looked me up and down as carefully as I had inspected her. Her voice was a warm, fall contralto, surprisingly deep in its lowest register.

She took two steps toward me and almost stood over me. I started to get up and she motioned me to stay seated, with a gesture mat assumed obedience as if she were very used to giving orders. “Rest where you are,” she said. The breeze carried her fragrance to me and I got goose flesh all over. “You are American.”

“Yes.” I was certain she was not, yet I was equally certain she was not French. Not only did she have no trace of French accent but also–well, French women are at least slightly provocative at all times; they can’t help it, it’s ingrained in the French culture. There was nothing provocative about this woman–except that she was an incitement to riot just by existing.

But, without being provocative, she had that rare gift for immediate intimacy; she spoke to me as a very old friend might speak, friends who knew each other’s smallest foibles and were utterly easy tete-a-tete. She asked me questions about myself, some of them quite personal, and I answered all of them, honestly, and it never occurred to me that she had no right to quiz me. She never asked my name, nor I hers–nor any question of her.

At last she stopped and looked me over again, carefully and soberly. Then she said thoughtfully, “You are very beautiful,” and added, “Au ‘voir”–turned and walked down the beach into the water and swam away.

I was too stunned to move. Nobody had ever called me “handsome” even before I broke my nose. As for “beautiful!”

But I don’t think it would have done me any good to have chased her, even if I had thought of it in time. That gal could swim.

Chapter 3

I stayed at the plager until sundown, waiting for her to come back. Then I made a hurried supper of bread and cheese and wine, got dressed in my G-string and walked into town. There I prowled bars and restaurants and did not find her, meanwhile window-peeping into cottages wherever shades were not drawn. When the bistros started shutting down, I gave up, went back to my tent, cursed myself for eight kinds of fool– (why couldn’t I have said, “What’s your name and where do you live and where are you staying here?”)–sacked in and went to sleep.

I was up at dawn and checked the plage, ate breakfast, checked the plage again, got “dressed” and went into the village, checked the shops and post office, and bought my Herald-Trib.

Then I was faced with one of the most difficult decisions of my life: I had drawn a horse.

I wasn’t certain at first, as I did not have those fifty-three serial numbers memorized. I had to run back to my tent, dig out a memorandum and check–and I had! It was a number that had stuck in mind because of its pattern: #XDY 34555. I had a horse!

Which meant several thousand dollars, just how much I didn’t know. But enough to put me through Heidelberg . . . if I cashed in on it at once. The Herald-Trib was always a day late there, which meant the drawing had taken place at least two days earlier–and in the meantime that dog could break a leg or be scratched nine other ways. My ticket was important money only as long as “Lucky Star” was listed as a starter.

I had to get to Nice in a hurry and find out where and how you got the best price for a lucky ticket. Dig the ticket out of my deposit box and sell it!

But how about “Helen of Troy”?

Shylock with his soul-torn cry of “Oh, my daughter! Oh, my ducats!” was no more split than I.

I compromised. I wrote a painful note, identifying myself, telling her that I had been suddenly called away and pleading with her either to wait until I returned tomorrow, or at the very least, to leave a note telling me how to find her. I left it with the postmistress along with a description–blond, so tall, hair this long, magnificent poitrine–and twenty francs with a promise of twice that much if she delivered it and got an answer. The postmistress said that she had never seen her but if cette grande blonde ever set foot in the village the note would be delivered.

That left me just time to rush back, dress in off-island clothes, dump my gear with Mme. Alexandre, and catch the boat. Then I had three hours of travel time to worry through.

The trouble was that Lucky Star wasn’t really a dog. My horse rated no farther down than fifth or sixth, no matter who was figuring form. So? Stop while I was ahead and take my profit?

Or go for broke?

It wasn’t easy. Let’s suppose I could sell the ticket for $10,000. Even if I didn’t try any fancy footwork on taxes, I would still keep most of it and get through school.

But I was going to get through school anyway–and did I really want to go to Heidelberg? That student with the dueling scars had been a slob, with his phony pride in scars from fake danger.

Suppose I hung on and grabbed the big one, £50,000, or $140,000-

Do you know how much tax a bachelor pays on $140,000 in the Land of the Brave and the Home of the Free?

$103,000, that’s what he pays. That leaves him $37,000.

Did I want to bet about $10,000 against the chance of winning $37,000–with the odds at least 15 to 1 against me?

Brother, that is drawing to an inside straight. The principle is the same whether it’s 37 grand, or jacks-or-better with a two-bit limit.

But suppose I wangled some way to beat the tax, thus betting $10,000 to win $140,000? That made the potential profit match the odds–and $140,000 was not just eating money for college but a fortune that could bring in four or five thousand a year forever.

I wouldn’t be “cheating” Uncle Sugar; the USA had no more moral claim on that money (if I won) than I had on the Holy Roman Empire. What had Uncle Sugar done for me? He had clobbered my father’s life with two wars, one of which we weren’t allowed to win–and thereby made it tough for me to get through college quite aside from what a father may be worth in spiritual intangibles to his son (I didn’t know, I never would know!)–then he had grabbed me out of college and had sent me to fight another unWar and damned near killed me and lost me my sweet girlish laughter.

So how is Uncle Sugar entitled to clip $103,000 and leave me the short end? So he can “lend” it to Poland? Or give it to Brazil? Oh, my back!

There was a way to keep it all (if I won) legal as marriage. Go live in little old tax-free Monaco for a year. Then take it anywhere.

New Zealand, maybe. The Herald-Trib had had the usual headlines, only more so. It looked as if the boys (just big playful boys!) who run this planet were about to hold that major war, the one with ICBMs and H-bombs, any time now.

If a man went as far south as New Zealand there might be something left after the fallout fell out.

New Zealand is supposed to be very pretty and they say that a fisherman there regards a five-pound trout as too small to take home.

I had caught a two-pound trout once.

About then I made a horrible discovery. I didn’t want to go back to school, win, lose, or draw. I no longer gave a damn about three-car garages and swimming pools, nor any other status symbol or “security.” There was no security in this world and only damn fools and mice thought there could be.

Somewhere back in the jungle I had shucked off all ambition of that sort. I had been shot at too many times and had lost interest in supermarkets and exurban subdivisions and tonight is the PTA supper don’t forget dear you promised.

Oh, I wasn’t about to hole up in a monastery. I still wanted-

What did I want?

I wanted a Roc’s egg. I wanted a harem loaded with lovely odalisques less than the dust beneath my chariot wheels, the rust that never stained my sword. I wanted raw red gold in nuggets the size of your fist and feed that lousy claim jumper to the huskies! I wanted to get up feeling brisk and go out and break
some lances, Then pick a likely wench for my droit du seigneur–I wanted to stand up to the Baron and dare him to touch my wench! I wanted to hear the purple water chuckling against the skin of the Nancy Lee in the cool of the morning watch and not another sound, nor any movement save the slow tilling of the wings of the albatross that had been pacing us the last thousand miles.

I wanted the hurtling moons of Barsoom. I wanted Storisende and Poictesme, and Holmes shaking me awake to tell me, “The game’s afoot!” I wanted to float down the Mississippi on a raft and elude a mob in company with the Duke of Bilgewater and the Lost Dauphin.

I wanted Prester John, and Excalibur held by a moon-white arm out of a silent lake. I wanted to sail with Ulysses and with Tros of Samothrace and eat the lotus in a land that seemed always afternoon. I wanted the feeling of romance and the sense of wonder I had known as a kid. I wanted the world to be what they had promised me it was going to be–instead of the tawdry, lousy, fouled-up mess it is.

I had had one chance–for ten minutes yesterday afternoon. Helen of Troy, whatever your true name may be–And I had known it . . . aha I had let it slip away.

Maybe one chance is all you ever get.

The train pulled into Nice.

In the American Express office I went to the banking department and to my deposit box, found the ticket and checked the number against the Herald-Trib–XDY 34555, yes! To stop my trembling, I checked the other tickets and they were wastepaper, just as I thought. I shoved them back into the DOX and asked to see the manager.

I had a money problem and American Express is a bank, not just a travel bureau. I was ushered into the manager’s office and we exchanged names. “I need advice,” I said. “You see, I hold one of the winning Sweepstakes tickets.”

He broke into a grin. “Congratulations! You’re the first person in a long time who has come in here with good news rather than a complaint.”

“Thanks. Uh, my problem is this. I know that a ticket that draws a horse is worth quite a bit up until the race. Depending on the horse, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “What horse did you draw?”

“A fairly good one. Lucky Star–and that’s what makes it tough. If I had drawn H-Bomb, or any of the three favorites–Well, you see how it is. I don’t know whether to sell or hang on, because I don’t know how to figure the odds. Do you know what is being offered for Lucky Star?”

He fitted his finger tips together. “Mr. Gordon, American Express does not give tips on horse races, nor broker the resale of Sweepstakes tickets. However–Do you have the ticket with you?”

I got it out and handed it to him. It had been through poker games and was sweat-marked and crumpled. But that lucky number was unmistakable.

He looked at it. “Do you have your receipt?”

“Not with me.” I started to explain that I had given my stepfathers address–and that my mail had been forwarded to Alaska. He cut me off. “That’s all right.” He touched a switch. “Alice, will you ask M’sieur Renault to step in?”

I was wondering if it really was all right. I had had the savvy to get names and new billets from the original ticket holders and each had promised to send his receipt to me when he got it–but no receipts had reached me. Maybe in Alaska–I had checked on this ticket while at the lockbox; it had been bought by a sergeant now in Stuttgart. Maybe I would have to pay him something or maybe I would have to break his arms.

M. Renault looked like a tired schoolteacher. “M’sieur Renault is our expert on this sort of thing,” the manager explained. “Will you let him examine your ticket, please?” The Frenchman looked at it, then his eyes lit up and be reached into a pocket, produced a jeweler’s loupe, screwed it into his eye. “Excellent!” he said approvingly. “One of the best. Hong Kong, perhaps?

“I bought it in Singapore.”

He nodded and smiled. “That follows.”

The manager was not smiling. He reached into his desk and brought out another Sweepstakes ticket and handed it to me. “Mr. Gordon, this one I bought at Monte Carlo. Will you compare it?”

They looked alike to me, except for serial numbers and the fact that his was crisp and clean. “What am I supposed to look for?”

“Perhaps this will help.” He offered me a large reading glass.

A Sweepstakes ticket is printed on special paper and has an engraved portrait on it and is done in several colors. It is a better job of engraving and printing than many countries use for paper money.

I learned long ago that you can’t change a deuce into an ace by staring at it. I handed back his ticket. “Mine is counterfeit.”

“I didn’t say so, Mr. Gordon. I suggest you get an outside opinion. Say at the office of the Bank of France.”

“I can see it. The engraving lines aren’t sharp and even on mine. They’re broken, some places. Under the glass the print job looks smeared.” I turned. “Right, M’sieur Renault?”

The expert gave a shrug of commiseration. “It is beautiful work, of its sort.”

I thanked them and got out. I checked with the Bank of France, not because I doubted the verdict but because you don’t have a. leg cut off, nor chuck away $140,000, without a second opinion. Their expert didn’t bother with a loupe. “Contrefait” he announced. “Worthless.”

It was impossible to get back to l’Ile du Levant that night. I had dinner and then looked up my former landlady. My broom closet was empty and she let me have it overnight. I didn’t lie awake long.

I was not as depressed as I thought I should be. I felt relaxed, almost relieved. For a while I had had the wonderful sensation of being rich–and I had had its complement, the worries of being rich–and both sensations were interesting and I didn’t care to repeat them, not right away.

Now I had no worries. The only thing to settle was when to go home, and with living so cheap on the island there was no hurry. The only thing that fretted me was that rushing off to Nice might have caused me to miss “Helen of Troy,” cette grande blonde! Si grande . . . si belle . . . si majestueuse! I fell asleep thinking of her.

I had intended to catch the early train, then the first boat. But the day before had used up most of the money on me and I had goofed by failing to get cash while at American Express. Besides, I had not asked for mail. I didn’t expect any, other than from my mother and possibly my aunt–the only close friend I had had in the Army had been killed six months back. Still, I might as well pick up mail as long as I had to wait for money.

So I treated myself to a luxury breakfast. The French think that a man can face the day with chicory and milk, and a croissant, which probably accounts for their unstable politics. I picked a sidewalk cafe by a big kiosk, the only one in Nice that stocked The Stars & Stripes and where the Herald-Trib would be on sale as soon as it was in; ordered a melon, cafe complet for TWO, and an omelette aux herbes fines; and sat back to enjoy life.

When the Herald-Trib arrived, it detracted from my sybaritic pleasure. The headlines were worse than ever and reminded me that I was still going to have to cope with the world; I couldn’t stay on l’Ile du Levant forever.

But why not stay there as long as possible? I still did not want to go to school, and that three-car-garage ambition was as dead as that Sweepstakes ticket. If World War III was about to shift to a rolling boil, there was no point in being an engineer at six or eight thousand a year in Santa Monica only to be caught in the fire storm.

It would be better to live it up, gather ye rosebuds, carpe that old diem, with dollars and days at hand, then–Well, join the Marine Corps maybe, like my dad.

I refolded the paper to the “Personals” column.

They were pretty good. Besides the usual offers of psychic readings and how to learn yoga and the veiled messages from one set of initials to another there were several that were novel. Such as-

REWARD!! Are you contemplating suicide? Assign to me the lease on your apartment and I will make your last clays lavish. Box 323, H-T

Or: Hindu gentleman, non-vegetarian, wishes to meet cultured European, African, or Asian lady owning sports car. Object: improving international relations. Box 107

How do you do that in a sports car?

One was ominous–Hermaphrodites of the World, Arise! You have nothing to lose but your chains. Tel. Opera 59-09

The next one started: ARE YOU A COWARD?

Well, yes, certainly. If possible. If allowed a free choice. I read on:

ARE YOU A COWARD? This is not for you. We badly need a brave man. He must be 23 to 25 years old, in perfect health, at least six feet tall, weigh about 190 pounds, fluent English with some French, proficient with all weapons, some knowledge of engineering and mathematics essential, willing to travel, no family or emotional ties, indomitably courageous and handsome of face and figure. Permanent employment, very high pay, glorious adventure, great danger. You must apply in person, 17, rue Dante, Nice, 2me etage, appt. D.

I read that requirement about face and figure with strong relief. For a giddy moment it had seemed as if someone with a skewed sense of humor had aimed a shaggy joke right at me. Somebody who knew my habit of reading the “Personals.”

That address was only a hundred yards from where I was sitting. I read the ad again.

Then I paid the addition, left a careful tip, went to the kiosk and bought The Stars & Stripes, walked to American Express, got money and picked up my mail, and on to the railroad station. It was over an hour until the next train to Toulon, so I went into the bar, ordered a beer and sat down to read.

Mother was sorry I had missed them in Wiesbaden. Her letter itemized the children’s illnesses, the high prices in Alaska, and expressed regret that they had ever had to leave Germany. I shoved it into my pocket and picked up The Stars & Stripes.

Presently I was reading: ARE YOU A COWARD?–same ad, right to the end.

I threw the paper down with a growl.

There were three other letters. One invited me to contribute to the athletic association of my ex-college; the second offered to advise me in the selection of my investments at a special rate of only $48 a year; the last was a plain envelope without a stamp, evidently handed in at American Express.

It contained only a newspaper clipping, starting: ARE You A COWARD?

It was the same as the other two ads except that in the last sentence one word had been underlined: You must apply in person-

I splurged on a cab to rue Dante. If I hurried, there was time to untangle this hopscotch and still catch the Toulon train. No. 17 was a walk-up; I ran up and, as I approached suite D, I met a young man coming out. He was six feet tall, handsome of face and figure, and looked as if he might be a hermaphrodite.

The lettering on the door read: DR. BALSAMO–HOURS BY APPOINTMENT, in both French and English. The name sounded familiar and vaguely phony out I did not stop to figure it out; I pushed on in.

The office inside was cluttered in a fashion known only to old French lawyers and pack rats. Behind the desk was a gnome-like character with a merry smile, hard eyes, the pinkest face and scalp I’ve ever seen, and a fringe of untidy white hair. He looked at me and giggled. “Welcome! So you are a hero?” Suddenly he whipped out a revolver half as long as he was and just as heavy and pointed it at me. You could have driven a Volkswagen down its snout.

“I’m not a hero,” I said nastily. “I’m a coward. I just came here to find out what the joke is.” I moved sideways while slapping that monstrous piece of ordnance the other way, chopped his wrist, and caught it. Then I handed it back to him. “Don’t play with that thing, or I’ll shove it up your deposition. I’m in a hurry. You’re Doctor Balsamo? You ran that ad?”

“Tut, tut,” he said, not at all annoyed. “Impetuous youth. No, Doctor Balsamo is in there.” He pointed his eyebrows at two doors on the left waft, then pushed a bell button on his desk–the only thing in the room later than Napoleon. “Go in. She’s expecting you.”

” ‘She’? Which door?”

“Ah, the Lady or the Tiger? Does it matter? In the long run? A hero will know. A coward will choose the wrong one, being sure that I lie. Allez-y! Vite, vite! Schnell! Get the lead out, Mac.”

I snorted and jerked open the right-hand door.

The doctor was standing with her back to me at some apparatus against the far wall and she was wearing one of those white, high-collared jackets favored by medical men. On my left was a surgeon’s examining table, on my right a Swedish-modern couch; there were stainless-steel and glass cabinets, and some framed certificates; the whole place was as up-to-date at the outer room was not.

As I closed the door she turned and looked at me and said quietly, “I am very glad that you have come.” Then she smiled and said softly, “You are beautiful,” and came into my arms.

Chapter 4

About a minute and forty seconds and several centuries later “Dr. Balsamo-Helen of Troy” pulled her mouth an inch back from mine and said, “Let me go, please, then undress and lie on the examining table.” I felt as if I had had nine hours of sleep, a needle shower, and three slugs of ice-cold akvavit on an empty stomach. Anything she wanted to do, I wanted to do. But the situation seemed to call for witty repartee. “Huh?” I said.

“Please. You are the one, but nevertheless I must examine you.”

“Well . . . all right,” I agreed. “You’re the doctor,” I added and started to unbutton my shirt. “You are a doctor? Of medicine, I mean.” “Yes. Among other things.”

I kicked out of my shoes. “But why do you want to examine me?”

“For witches’ marks, perhaps. Oh, I shan’t find any, I know. But I must search for other things, too. To protect you.”

That table was cold against my skin. Why don’t they pad those things? “Your name is Balsamo?”

“One of my names,” she said absently while gentle fingers touched me here and there. “A family name, that is.”

“Wait a minute. Count Cagliostro!”

“One of my uncles. Yes, he used that name. Though it isn’t truly his, no more than Balsamo. Uncle Joseph is a very naughty man and quite untruthful.” She touched an old, small scar. “Your appendix has been removed.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let me see your teeth.”

I opened wide. My face may not be much but I could rent my teeth to advertise Pepsodent. Presently she nodded. “Fluoride marks. Good. Now I must have your blood.”

She could have bitten me in the neck for it and I wouldn’t have minded. Nor been much surprised. But she did it the ordinary way, taking ten cc. from the vein inside my left elbow. She took the sample and put it in that apparatus against the wall. It chirred and whirred and she came back to me. “Listen,

Princess,” I said.

“I am not a princess.”

“Well . . . I don’t know your first name, and you inferred that your last name isn’t really ‘Balsamo’–and I don’t want to call you ‘Doc.’ ” I certainly did not want to call her “Doc”–not the most beautiful girl I had ever seen or hoped to see . . . not after a kiss that had wiped out of memory every other kiss I had ever received. No.

She considered it. “I have many names. What would you like to call me?”

“Is one of them ‘Helen’?”

She smiled like sunshine and I learned that she had dimples. She looked sixteen and in her first party

dress. “You are very gracious. No, she’s not even a relative. That was many, many years ago.” Her face turned thoughtful. “Would you like to call me ‘Ettarre’?”

“Is that one of your names?”

“It is much like one of them, allowing for different spelling and accent. Or it could be ‘Esther’ just as closely. Or ‘Aster.’ Or even ‘Estrellita.’ ”

” ‘Aster,’ ” I repeated. “Star. Lucky Star!”

“I hope that I will be your lucky star,” she said earnestly. “As you will. But what shall I call you?”

I thought about it. I certainly was not going to dig up “Flash–I am not a comic strip. The Army nickname I had held longest was entirely unfit to hand to a lady. At that I preferred it to my given name. My daddy had been proud of a couple of his ancestors–but is that any excuse for hanging “Evelyn Cyril” on a male child? It had forced me to Team to fight before I learned to read.

The name I had picked up in the hospital ward would do. I shrugged. “Oh, Scar is a good enough name.”

” ‘Oscar,’ ” she repeated, broadening the “O” into “Aw,” and stressing both syllables. “A noble name. A hero’s name. Oscar.” She caressed it with her voice.

“No, no! Not ‘Oscar’–‘Scar.’ ‘Scarface.’ For this.”

“Oscar is your name,” she said firmly. “Oscar and Aster. Scar and Star.” She barely touched the scar. “Do you dislike your hero’s mark? Shall I remove it?”

“En? Oh, no. I’m used to it now. It lets me know who it is when I see myself in a mirror.”

“Good. I like it, you wore it when I first saw you. But if you change your mind, let me know.” The gear against the wall went whush, chunk! She turned and took a long strip from it, then whistled softly while she studied it.

“This won’t take long,” she said cheerfully and wheeled the apparatus over to the table. “Hold still while the protector is connected with you, quite still and breathe shallowly.” She made half a dozen connections of tubes to me; they stuck where she placed them. She put over her head what I thought was a fancy stethoscope but after she got it on, it covered her eyes.

She chuckled. “You’re pretty inside, too, Oscar. No, don’t talk.” She kept one hand on my forearm and I waited.

Five minutes later she lifted her hand and stripped off the connections. “That’s all,” she said cheerfully. “No more colds for you, my hero, and you won’t be bothered again by that flux you picked up in the jungle. Now we move to the other room.”

I got off the table and grabbed at my clothes. Star said, “You won’t need them where we are going. Full kit and weapons will be provided.”

I stopped with shoes in one hand and drawers in the other. “Star–”

“Yes, Oscar?”

“What is this all about? Did you run that ad? Was it meant for me? Did you really want to hire me for something?”

She took a deep breath and said soberly, “I advertised. It was meant for you and you only. Yes, there is a job to do . . . as my champion. There will be great adventure . . . and greater treasure . . . and even greater danger–and I fear very much that neither one of us will live through it.” She looked me in the eyes. “Well, sir?”

I wondered how long they had had me in the locked ward. But I didn’t tell her so, because, if that was where I was, she wasn’t there at all. And I wanted her to be there, more than I had ever wanted anything. I said, “Princess . . . you’ve hired yourself a boy.”

She caught her breath. “Come quickly. Time is short.” She led me through a door beyond the Swedish modern couch, unbuttoning her jacket, unzipping her skirt, as she went, and letting garments fall anywhere. Almost at once she was as I had first seen her at the plage.

This room had dark walls and no windows and a soft light from nowhere. There were two tow couches side by side, black they were and looking like biers, and no other furniture. As soon as the door was dosed behind us I was suddenly aware that the room was aching, painfully anechoic; the bare walls gave back no sound.

The couches were in the center of a circle which was part of a large design, in chalk, or white paint, on bare floor. We entered the pattern; she turned and squatted down and completed one line, closing it–and ft was true; she was unable to be awkward, even hunkered down, even with her breasts drooping
as she leaned over.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A map to take us where we are going.”

“It looks more like a pentagram.”

She shrugged. “All right, it is a pentacle of power. A schematic circuit diagram would be a better tag. But, my hero, I can’t stop to explain it. Lie down, please, at once.”

I took the right-hand couch as she signed me, but I couldn’t let ft be. “Star, are you a witch?”

“If you like. Please, no talking now.” She lay down, stretched out her hand. “And join hands with me, my lord; it is necessary.”

Her hand was soft and warm and very strong. Presently the light faded to red, then died away. I slept.

Chapter 5

I woke to singing birds.

Her hand was still in mine. I turned my head and she smiled at me. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Good morning. Princess.” I glanced around. We were still lying on those black couches but they were outdoors, in a grassy dell, a clearing in trees beside a softly chuckling stream–a place so casually beautiful that it looked as if it had been put together leaf by leaf by old and unhurried Japanese gardeners.

Warm sunshine splashed through leaves and dappled her golden body. I glanced up at the sun and back at her. “Is it morning?” It had been noonish or later and that sun ought to DC–seemed to be–setting, not rising-

“It is again morning, here.”

Suddenly my bump of direction spun like a top and I felt dizzy. Disoriented–a feeling new to me and very unpleasant. I couldn’t find north.

Then things steadied down. North was that way, upstream–and the sun was rising, maybe nine in the morning, and would pass across the north sky. Southern Hemisphere. No sweat.

No trick at all–Just give the kook a shot of dope while examining him, lug him aboard a 707 and jet him to New Zealand, replenishing the Mickey Finn as needed. Wake him up when you want him.

Only I didn’t say this and never did think it. And it wasn’t true.

She sat up. “Are you hungry?”

I suddenly realized that an omelet some hours ago–how many? –was not enough for a growing boy. I sat up and swung my feet to the grass. “I could eat a horse.”
She grinned. “The shop of La Societe Anonyme de Hippopnage is closed I’m afraid. Will you settle for trout? We must wait a bit, so we might as well eat. And don’t worry, this place is defended.”

” ‘Defended’?”

“Safe.”

“All right. Uh, how about a rod and hooks?”

“I’ll show you.” What she showed me was not fishing tackle but how to tickle fish. But I knew how. We waded into that lovely stream, just pleasantly cool, moving as quietly as possible, and picked a place under a bulging rock, a place where trout like to gather and think–the fishy equivalent of a gentlemen’s club.

You tickle trout by gaining their confidence and then abusing it. In about two minutes I got one, between two and three pounds, and tossed it onto the bank, and Star had one almost as large. “How much can you eat?” she asked.

“Climb out and get dry,” I said. “I’ll get another one.”

“Make it two or three,” she amended. “Rufo will be along.” She waded quietly out.

“Who?”

“Your groom.”

I didn’t argue. I was ready to believe seven impossible things before breakfast, so I went on catching breakfast. I let it go with two more as the last was the biggest trout I’ve ever seen. Those beggars fairly queued up to be grabbed.

By then Star had a fire going and was cleaning fish with a sharp rock. Shucks, any Girl Scout or witch can make fire without matches. I could myself, given several hours and plenty of luck, just by rubbing two dry cliches together. But I noticed that the two short biers were gone. Well, I hadn’t ordered them. I
squatted down and took over cleaning the trout.

Star came back shortly with fruits that were apple-like but deep purple in color and with quantities of button mushrooms. She was carrying the plunder on a broad leaf, like canna or ti, only bigger. More like banana leaves.

My mouth started to water. “If only we had salt!”

“I’ll fetch it. It will be rather gritty. I’m afraid.”

Star broiled the fish two ways, over the fire on a forked green stick, and on hot flat limestone where he fire had been–she kept brushing the fire along as she fed it and placed fish and mushrooms sizing where it had been. That way was best, I thought. Little fine grasses turned out to be chives, local style, and tiny clover tasted and looked like sheep sorrel. That, with the salt (which was gritty and coarse and may have been licked by animals before we got it–not that I cared) made the trout the best I’ve ever tasted. Well, weather and scenery and company had much to do with it, too, especially the company.

I was trying to think of a really poetic way of saying, “How about you and me shacking up right here for the next ten thousand years? Either legal or informal–are you married?” when we were interrupted. Which was a shame, for I had thought up some pretty language, all new, for the oldest and most practical
suggestion in the world.

Old baldy, the gnome with the oversized six-shooter, was standing behind me and cursing.

I was sure it was cursing although the language was new to me. Star turned her head, spoke in quiet reproval in the same language, made room for him and offered him a trout. He took it and ate quite a bit of it before he said, in English, “Next time I won’t pay him anything. You’ll see.”

“You shouldn’t try to cheat him, Rufo. Have some mushrooms. Where’s the baggage? I want to get dressed.”

“Over there.” He went back to wolfing fish. Rufo was proof that some people should wear clothes. He was pink all over and somewhat potbellied. However, he was amazingly well muscled, which I had never suspected, else I would have been more cautious about taking that cannon away from him. I decided that
if he wanted to Indian-wrestle, I would cheat.

He glanced at me past a pound and a half of trout and said, “Is it your wish to be outfitted now, my lord?”

“Huh? Finish your breakfast. And what’s this ‘my lord’ routine? Last time I saw you you were waving a gun in my face.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. But She said to do it . . . and what She says must be done. You understand.”

“That suits me perfectly. Somebody has to drive. But call me ‘Oscar.’ ”

Rufo glanced at Star, she nodded. He grinned. “Okay, Oscar. No hard feelings?”

“Not a bit.”

He put down the fish, wiped his hand on his thigh, and stuck it out. “Swell! You knock em down, I’ll stomp on ’em.”

We shook hands and each of us tried for the knuckle-cracking grip. I think I got a little the better of it, but I decided he might have been a blacksmith at some time.

Star looked very pleased and showed dimples again She had been lounging by the fire; looking line a hamadryad on her coffee break; now she suddenly reached out and placed her strong, slender hand over our clasped fists. “My stout friends,” she said earnestly. “My good boys. Rufo, it will be well.”

“You have a Sight?” he said eagerly.

“No, just a feeling. But I am no longer worried.”

“We can’t do a thing,” Rufo said moodily, “until we deal with Igli.”

“Oscar will dicker with Igli.” Then she was on her feet in one smooth motion. “Stuff that fish in your face and unpack. I need clothes.” She suddenly looked very eager.

Star was more different women than a platoon of WACs–which is only mildly a figure of speech. Right then she was every woman from Eve deciding between two fig leaves to a modern woman whose ambition is to be turned loose in Nieman-Marcus, naked with a checkbook. When I first met her, she had seemed rather a sobersides and no more interested in clothes than I was. I’d never had a chance to be interested in clothes. Being a member of the sloppy generation was a boon to my budget at college, where blue jeans were au fait and a dirty sweat shirt was stylish.

The second time I saw her she had been dressed, but in that lab smock and tailored skirt she had been both a professional woman and a warm friend. But today–this morning whenever that was–she was increasingly full of Bubbles. She had delighted so in catching fish that she had had to smother squeals of glee. And she had then been the perfect Girl Scout, with soot smudged on her cheek and her hair pushed back out of hazard of the fire while she cooked.

Now she was the woman of all ages who just has to get her hands on new clothes. I felt that dressing Star was like putting a paint job on the crown jewels–but I was forced to admit that, if we were not to do the “Me Tarzan, you Jane” bit right in that dell from then on till death do us part, then clothes of some sort, if only to keep her perfect skin from getting scratched by brambles, were needed.

Rufo’s baggage turned out to be a little black box about the size and shape of a portable typewriter. He opened it.

And opened it again.

And Kept on opening it–And kept right on unfolding its sides and letting them down until the durn thing was the size of a small moving van and even more packed. Since I was nicknamed “Truthful James” as soon as I learned to talk and am widely known to have won the hatchet every February 22nd all through school, you must now conclude that I was the victim of an illusion caused by hypnosis and/or drugs.

Me, I’m not sure. Anyone who has studied math knows that the inside does not have to be smaller than the outside, in theory, and anyone who has had the doubtful privilege of seeing a fat woman get in or out of a tight girdle knows that this is true in practice, too. Rufo’s baggage just carried the principle further.

The first thing he dragged out was a big teakwood chest. Star opened it and started pulling out filmy lovelies.

“Oscar, what do you think of this one?” She was holding a long, green dress against her with the skirt draped over one hip to display it. “Like it?”

Of course I liked it. If it was an original–and somehow I knew that Star never wore copies–I didn’t want to think about what it must have cost. “It’s a mighty pretty gown,” I told her. “But–Look, are we going to be traveling?”

“Right away.”

“I don’t see any taxicabs. Aren’t you likely to get that torn?”

“It doesn’t tear. However, I didn’t mean to wear it; I just meant to show it to you. Isn’t it lovely? Shall I model it for you? Rufo, I want those high-heeled sandals with the emeralds.”

Rufo answered in that language he had been cursing in when he arrived. Star shrugged and said, “Don’t be impatient, Rufo; Igli will wait. Anyhow, we can’t talk to Igli earlier than tomorrow morning; milord Oscar must learn the language first.” But she put the green gorgeousness back in the chest.

“Now here is a little number,” she went on, holding it up, “which is just plain naughty: it has no other purpose.”

I could see why. It was mostly skirt, with a little bodice that supported without concealing–a style favored in ancient Crete, I hear, and still popular in the Overseas Weekly, Playboy, and many night clubs. A style that turns droopers into bulgers. Not that Star needed it.

Rufo tapped me on the shoulder. “Boss? Want to look over the ordnance and pick out what you need?”

Star said reprovingly, “Rufo, life is to be savored, not hurried.”

“We’ll have a lot more life to savor if Oscar picks out what he can use best.”

“He won’t need weapons until after we reach a settlement with Igli.” But she didn’t insist on showing more clothes and, while I enjoyed looking at Star, I like to check over weapons, too, especially when I might have to use them, as apparently the job called for.

While I had been watching Star’s style show, Rufo had laid out a collection that looked like a cross between an army-surplus store and a museum–swords, pistols, a lance that must have been twenty feet long, a flame-thrower, two bazookas flanking a Tommy gun, brass knucks, a machete, grenades, bows and arrows, a misericorde-

“You didn’t bring a slingshot,” I said accusingly.

He looked smug. “Which kind do you like, Oscar? The forked sort? Or a real sling?”

“Sorry I mentioned it. I can’t hit the floor with either sort.” I picked up the Tommy chopper, checked that it was empty, started stripping it. It seemed almost new, just fired enough to let the moving parts work in. A Tommy isn’t much more accurate than a pitched baseball and hasn’t much greater effective range. But it does have virtues–you hit a man with it, he goes down and stays down. It is short and not too heavy and has a lot of firepower for a short time. It is a bush weapon, or for any other sort of close-quarters work.

But I like something with a bayonet on the end, in case the party gets intimate–and I like that something to be accurate at long range in case the neighbors get unfriendly from a distance. I put it down and picked up a Springfield–Rock Island Arsenal, as I saw by its serial number, but still a Springfield. I feel the way about a Springfield that I do about a Gooney Bird; some pieces of machinery are ultimate perfection of their sort, the only possible improvement is a radical change in design.

I opened the bolt, stuck my thumbnail in the chamber, looked down the muzzle. The barrel was bright and the lands were unworn–and the muzzle had that tiny star on it; it was a match weapon!

“Rufo, what sort of country will we be going through? Like this around us?”

“Today, yes. But–” He apologetically took the rifle out of my hands. “It is forbidden to use firearms here. Swords, Knives, arrows–anything that cuts or stabs or mauls by your own muscle power. No guns.”

“Who says so?”

He shivered. “Better ask Her.”

“If we can’t use them, why bring them? And I don’t see any ammunition around anyhow.”

“Plenty of ammunition. Later on we will be at–another place–where guns may be used. If we live that long. I was just showing you what we have. What do you like of the lawful weapons? Are you a bowman?”

“I don’t know. Show me how.” He started to say something, then shrugged and selected a bow, slipped a leather guard over his left forearm, picked out an arrow. “That tree,” he said, “the one with the white rock at the foot of it. I’ll try for about as high off the ground as a man’s heart.”

He nocked the shaft, raised and bent and let fly, all in one smooth motion.

The arrow quivered in the tree trunk about four feet off the ground.

Rufo grinned. “Care to match that?”

I didn’t answer. I knew I could not, except by accident. I had once owned a bow, a birthday present. I hadn’t hit much with it and soon the arrows were lost. Nevertheless I made a production out of selecting a bow, and picked the longest and heaviest.

Rufo cleared his throat apologetically. “If I may make a suggestion, that one will pull quite hard–for a beginner.”

I strung it. “Find me a leather.”

The leather slipped on as if it had been made for me and perhaps it had. I picked an arrow to match, barely looked at it as they all seemed straight and true. I didn’t have any hope of hitting that bloody tree; it was fifty yards away and not over a foot thick. I simply intended to sight a bit high up on the trunk and hope that so heavy a bow would give me a flattish trajectory. Mostly I wanted to nock, bend, and loose all in one motion as Rufo had done–to look like Robin Hood even though I was not.

But as I raised and bent that bow and felt the power of it, I felt a surge of exultance–this tool was right for me! We fitted.

I let fly without thinking.

My shaft thudded a hand’s breadth from his.

“Well shot!” Star called out.

Rufo looked at the tree and blinked, then looked reproachfully at Star. She looked haughtily back. “I did not,” she stated. “You know I would not do that. It was a fair trial . . . and a credit to you both.”

Rufo looked thoughtfully at me. “Hmm–Would you care to make a small bet–you name the odds–that you can do that again?”

“I won’t bet,” I said. “I’m chicken.” But I picked up another arrow and nocked it. I liked that bow, I even liked the way the string whanged at the guard on my forearm; I wanted to try it, feel married to it, again.

I loosed it.

The third arrow grew out of a spot between the first two, but closer to his. “Nice bow,” I said. “I’ll keep it. Fetch the shafts.”

Rufo trotted away without speaking. I unstrung the bow, then started looking over the cutlery. I hoped that I would never again have to shoot an arrow; a gambler can’t expect to draw a pat hand every deal–my next shot would likely turn around like a boomerang.

There was too much wealth of edges and points, from a two-handed broadsword suitable for chopping down trees to a little dagger meant for a lady’s stocking. But I picked up and balanced them all . . . and found there the blade that suited me the way Excalibur suited Arthur.

I’ve never seen one quite like it so I don’t know what to call it. A saber, I suppose, as the blade was faintly curved and razor sharp on the edge and sharp rather far back on the back. But it had a point as deadly as a rapier and the curve was not enough to keep it from being used for thrust and counter quite as well as chopping away meat-axe style. The guard was a bell curved back around the knuckles into a semi-basket but cut away enough to permit full moulinet from any guard.

It balanced in the forte less than two inches from the guard, yet the blade was heavy enough to chop bone. It was the sort of sword that feels as if it were an extension of your body.

The grip was honest sharkskin, molded to my hand. There was a motto chased onto the blade but it was so buried in curlicues that I did not take time to study it out. This girl was mine, we fitted! I returned it and buckled belt and scabbard to my bare waist, wanting the touch of it and feeling like Captain John
Carter, Jeddak of Jeddaks, and the Gascon and his three friends all in one.

“Will you not dress, milord Oscar?” Star asked.

“Eh? Oh, certainly–I was just trying it on for size. But–Did Rufo fetch my clothes?”

“Did you, Rufo?”

“His clothes? He wouldn’t want those things he was wearing in Nice!”

“What’s wrong with wearing Lederhosen with an aloha shirt?” I demanded.

“What? Oh, nothing at all, milord Oscar,” Rufo answered hastily. “Live and let live I always say. I knew a man once who wore–never mind. Let me show you what I fetched for you.”

I had my choice of everything from a plastic raincoat to full armor. I found the latter depressing because its presence implied that it might be needed. Except for an Army helmet I had never worn armor, didn’t want to, didn’t know how–and didn’t care to mix with rude company that made such protection desirable.

Besides, I didn’t see a horse around, say a Percheron or a Clydesdale, and I couldn’t see myself hiking in one of those tin suits. I’d be slow as crutches, noisy as a subway, and hot as a phone booth. Sweat off ten pounds in five miles. The quilted longjohns that go under that ironmongery would have been too much
alone for such beautiful weather; steel on top would turn me into a walking oven and leave me too weak and clumsy to fight my way out of a traffic ticket.

“Star, you said that–” I stopped. She had finished dressing and hadn’t overdone it. Soft leather hiking shoes–buskins really–brown tights, and a short green upper garment halfway between a jacket and a skating dress. This was topped by a perky little hat and the whole costume made her look like a musical corner version of an airline hostess, smart, cute, wholesome, and sexy.

Or maybe Maid Marian, as she had added a double-curve bow about half the size of mine, a quiver, and a dagger. “You,” I said, “look like why the riot started.”

She dimpled and curtsied. (Star never pretended. She knew she was female, she knew she looked good, she liked it that way.) “You said something earlier,” I continued, “about my not needing weapons just yet. Is there any reason why I should wear one of these space suits? They don’t look comfortable.”

“I don’t expect any great danger today,” she said slowly. “But this is not a place where one can call the police. You must decide what you need.”

“But–Damn it. Princess, you know this place and I don’t. I need advice.”

She didn’t answer. I turned to Rufo. He was carefully studying a treetop. I said, “Rufo, get dressed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Milord Oscar?”

“Schnell! Vite, vite! Get the lead out.”

“Okay.” He dressed quickly, in an outfit that was a man’s version of what Star had selected, with shorts instead of tights.

“Arm yourself,” I said, and started to dress the same way, except that I intended to wear field boots. However, there was a pair of those buskins that appeared to be my size, so I tried them on. They snuggled to my feet like gloves and, anyway, my soles were so hardened by a month barefooted on l’Ile du Levant that I didn’t need heavy boots.

They were not as medieval as they looked; they zipped up the front and were marked inside Fabrique en France.

Pops Rufo had taken the bow he had used before, selected a sword, and had added a dagger. Instead of a dagger I picked out a Solingen hunting knife. I looked longingly at a service .45, but didn’t touch it. If “they,” whoever they were, had a local Sullivan Act, I would go along with the gag.

Star told Rufo to pack, then squatted down with me at a sandy place by the stream and drew a sketch map–route south, dropping downgrade and following the stream except for short cuts, until we reached the Singing Waters. There we would camp for the night.

I got it in my head. “Okay. Anything to warn me about? Do we shoot first? Or wait for them to bomb us?”

“Nothing that I expect, today. Oh, there’s a carnivore about three times the size of a lion. But it is a great coward; it won’t attack a moving man.”

“A fellow after my own heart. All right, we’ll keep moving.”

“If we do see human beings–I don’t expect it–it might be well to nock a shaft . . . but not raise your bow until you feel it is necessary. But I’m not telling you what to do, Oscar; you must decide. Nor will Rufo let fly unless he sees you about to do so.”

Rufo had finished packing. “Okay, let’s go,” I said. We set out. Rufo’s little black box was now rigged as a knapsack and I did not stop to wonder how he could carry a couple of tons on his shoulders. An anti-grav device like Buck Rogers, maybe. Chinese coolie blood. Black magic. Hell, that teakwood chest alone could not have fitted into that backpack by a factor of 30 to I, not to mention the arsenal and assorted oddments.

There is no reason to wonder why I didn’t quiz Star as to where we were, why we were there, how we had got there, what we were going to do, and the details of these dangers I was expected to face. Look, Mac, when you are having the most gorgeous dream of your life and just getting to the point, do you stop to tell yourself that it is logically impossible for that particular babe to be in the hay with you–and thereby wake yourself up? I knew, logically, that everything that had happened since I read that silly ad had been impossible.

So I chucked logic.

Logic is a feeble reed, friend. “Logic” proved that airplanes can’t fly and that H-bombs wont work and that stones don’t fall out of the sky. Logic is a way of saying that anything which didn’t happen yesterday won’t happen tomorrow.

I liked the situation. I didn’t want to wake up, whether in bed, or in a headshrinker ward. Most especially I did not want to wake up still back in that jungle, maybe with that face wound still fresh and no helicopter. Maybe little brown brother had done a full job on me and sent me to Valhalla. Okay, I
liked Valhalla.

I was swinging along with a sweet sword knocking against my thigh and a much sweeter girl matching my strides and a slave-serf-groom-something sweating along behind us, doing the carrying and being our “eyes-behind.” Birds were singing and the landscape had been planned by master landscape architects
and the air smelled sweet and good. If I never dodged a taxi nor read a headline again, that suited me.

That longbow was a nuisance–but so is an M-l. Star had her little bow slung, shoulder to hip. I tried that, but it tended to catch on things. Also, it made me nervous not to have it ready since she had admitted a chance of needing it. So I unslung it and carried it in my left hand, strung and ready.

We had one alarum on the morning hike. I heard Rufo’s bowstring go thwung! –and I whirled and had my own bow ready, arrow nocked, before I saw what was up.

Or down, rather. A bird like a dusky grouse but larger. Rufo had picked it off a branch, right through the neck. I made note not to compete with him again in archery, and to get him to coach me in the fine points.

He smacked his lips and grinned. “Supper!” For the next mile he plucked it as we walked, then hung it from his belt.

We stopped for lunch one o’clockish at a picnic spot that Star assured me was defended, and Rufo opened his box to suitcase size, and served us lunch: cola cuts, crumbly Provencal cheese, crusty French bread, pears, and two bottles of Chablis. After lunch Star suggested a siesta. The idea was appealing; I had eaten heartily and shared only crumbs with the birds, but I was surprised. “Shouldn’t we push on?”

“You must have a language lesson, Oscar.”

I must tell them at Ponce de Leon High School the better way to study languages. You lie down on soft grass near a chuckling stream on a perfect day, and the most beautiful woman in any world bends over you and looks you in the eyes. She starts speaking softly in a language you do not understand.

After a bit her big eyes get bigger and bigger . . . and bigger . . . and you sink into them.

Then, a long time later, Rufo says, “Erbas, Oscar, ‘t knila voorsht.”

“Okay,” I answered, “I am getting up. Don’t rush me.”

That is the last word I am going to set down in a language that doesn’t fit our alphabet. I had several more lessons, and won’t mention them either, and from then on we spoke this lingo, except when I was forced to span gaps by asking in English. It is a language rich in profanity and in words for making love, and richer than English in some technical subjects–but with surprising holes in it. There is no word for “lawyer” for example.

About an hour before sundown we came to the Singing Waters.

We had been traveling over a high, wooded plateau. The brook where we had caught the trout had been joined by other streams and was now a big creek. Below us, at a place we hadn’t reached yet, it would plunge over high cliffs in a super-Yosemite fall. But here, where we stopped to camp, the water had cut a notch into the plateau, forming cascades, before it took that dive.

“Cascades” is a weak word. Upstream, downstream, everywhere you looked, you saw waterfalls–big ones thirty or fifty feet high, little ones a mouse could have jumped up, every size in between. Terraces and staircases of them there were, smooth water green from rich foliage overhead and water white as whipped cream as it splashed into dense foam.

And you heard them. Tiny falls tinkled in silvery soprano, big falls rumbled in basso profundo. On the grassy alp where we camped it was an ever-present chorale; in the middle of the falls you had to snout to make yourself heard.

Coleridge was there in one of his dope dreams:

And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil
seething-

Coleridge must have followed that route and reached the Singing Waters. No wonder he felt like killing that “person from Porlock” who broke in on his best dream. When I am dying, lay me beside the Singing Waters and let them be the last I hear and see.

We stopped on a lawn terrace, flat as a promise and soft as a Kiss, and I helped Rufo unpack. I wanted to learn how he did that trick with the box. I didn’t find out. Each side opened as naturally and reasonably as opening up an ironing board–and then when it opened again that was natural and reasonable, too.

First we pitched a tent for Star–no army-surplus job, this; it was a dainty pavilion of embroidered silk and the rug we spread as a floor must have used up three generations of Bukhara artists. Rufo said to me, “Do you want a tent, Oscar?”

I looked up at the sky and over at the not-yet-setting sun. The air was milk warm and I couldn’t believe that it would rain. I don’t like to be in a tent if there is the least chance of surprise attack. “Are you going to use a tent?”

“Me? Oh, no! But She has to have a tent, always. Then, more likely than not. She’ll decade to sleep out on the grass.”

“I won’t need a tent.” (Let’s see, does a “champion” sleep across the door of his lady’s chamber, weapons at hand? I wasn’t sure about the etiquette of such things; they were never mentioned in “Social Studies.”)

She returned then and said to Rufo, “Defended. The wards were all in place.”

“Recharged?” he fretted.

She tweaked his ear. “I am not senile.” She added, “Soap, Rufo. And come along, Oscar; that’s Rufo’s work.”

Rufo dug a cake of Lux out of that caravan load and gave it to her, then looked at me thoughtfully and handed me a bar of Life Buoy.

The Singing Waters are the best bath ever, in endless variety. Still pools from footbath size to plunges you could swim in, sitz baths that tingled your skin, shower baths from just a trickle up to free-springing jets that would beat your brains in if you stood under them too long.

And you could pick your temperature. Above the cascade we used, a hot spring added itself to the main stream and at the base of this cascade a hidden spring welled out icy cold. No need to fool with taps, just move one way or the other for the temperature you like–or move downstream where it evened out to temperature as gently warm as a mother’s kiss.

We played for a while, with Star squealing and giggling when I splashed her, and answering it by ducking me. We both acted like kids; I felt like one, she looked like one, and she played rough, with muscles of steel under velvet.

Presently I fetched the soap and we scrubbed. When she started shampooing her hair, I came up behind her and helped. She let me, she needed help with the lavish mop, six times as much as most gals bother with these days.

That would have been a wonderful time (with Rufo busy and out of the way) to grab her and hug her, then proceed ruggedly to other matters. Nor am I sure that she would nave made even a token protest; she might have cooperated heartily.

Hell, I know she would not have made a “token” protest. She would either have put me in my place with a cold word or a clout in the ear–or cooperated.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even start.

I don’t know why. My intentions toward Star had oscillated from dishonorable to honorable and back again, but had always been practical from the moment I laid eyes on her. No, let me put it this way: My intentions were strictly dishonorable always, but with utter willingness to convert them to honorable, later, as soon as we could dig up a justice of the peace.

Yet I found I couldn’t lay a finger on her other than to help her scrub the soap out of her hair.

While I was puzzling over this, both hands buried in heavy blond hair and wondering what was stopping me from putting my arms around that slender-strong waist only inches away from me, I heard a piercing whistle and my name–my new name. I looked around.

Rufo, dressed in his unlovely skin and with towels over his shoulder, was standing on the bank ten feet away and trying to cut through the roar of water to get my attention.

I moved a few feet toward him. “How’s that again?” I didn’t quite snarl.

“I said, ‘Do you want a shave?’ Or are you growing a beard?”

I had been uneasily aware of my face cactus while I was debating whether or not to attempt criminal assault, and that unease had helped to stop me–Gillette, Aqua Velva, Burma Shave, et al., have made the browbeaten American male, namely me, timid about attempting seduction and/or rape unless freshly planed off. And I had a two-day growth.

“I don’t have a razor,” I called back.

He answered by holding up a straight razor.

Star moved up beside me. She reached up and tried my chin between thumb and forefinger. “You would be majestic in a beard,” she said. “Perhaps a Van Dyke, with sneering mustachios.”

I thought so too, if she thought so. Besides, it would cover most of that scar. “Whatever you say. Princess.”

“But I would rather that you stayed as I first saw you. Rufo is a good barber.” She turned toward him. “A hand, Rufo. And my towel.”

Star walked back toward the camp, toweling herself dry–I would have been glad to help, if asked. Rufo said tiredly, “Why didn’t you assert yourself? But She says to shave you, so now I’ve got to–and rush through my own bath, too, so She won’t be kept waiting.”

“If you’ve got a mirror, I’ll do it myself.”

“Ever used a straight razor?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“You’d cut your throat, and She wouldn’t like that. Over here on the bank where I can stand in the warm water. No, no! Don’t sit on it, lie down with your head at the edge. I can’t shave a man who’s sitting up.” He started working lather into my chin.

“You know why? I learned how on corpses, that’s why, making them pretty so that their loved ones would be proud of them. Hold still! You almost lost an ear. I like to shave corpses; they can’t complain, they don’t make suggestions, they don’t talk back–and they always hold still. Best job I ever had. But now you take this job–” He stopped with the blade against my Adam’s apple and started counting his troubles.

“Do I get Saturday off? Hell, I don t even get Sunday off! And look at the hours! Why, I read just the other day that some outfit in New York–You’ve been in New York?”

“I’ve been in New York. And get that guillotine away from my neck while you’re waving your hands like that.”

“You keep talking, you’re bound to get a little nick now and then. This outfit signed a contract for a twenty-five hour week. Week! I’d like to settle for a twenty-five hour day. You know how long I’ve been on the go, right this minute?”

I said I didn’t.

“There, you talked again. More than seventy hours or I’m a liar! And for what? Glory? Is there glory in a little heap of whitened bones? Wealth? Oscar, I’m telling you the truth; I’ve laid out more corpses than a sultan has concubines and never a one of them cared a soggy pretzel whether they were bedecked in rubies the size of your nose and twice as red . . . or rags. What use is wealth to a dead man? Tell me, Oscar, man to man while She can’t hear: Why did you ever let Her talk you into this?”

“I’m enjoying it, so far.”

He sniffed. “That’s what the man said as be passed the fiftieth floor of the Empire State Building. But the sidewalk was waiting for him, just the same. However,” he added darkly, “until you settle with Igli, it’s not a problem. If I had my kit, I could cover that scar so perfectly that everybody would say, ‘Doesn’t he look natural?’ ”

“Never mind. She likes that scar.” (Damn it, he had me doing it!)

“She would. What I’m trying to get over is, if you walk the Glory Road, you are certain to find mostly rocks. But I never chose to walk it. My idea of a nice way to live would be a quiet little parlor, the only one in town, with a selection of caskets, all prices, and a markup that allowed a little leeway to show
generosity to the bereaved. Installment plans for those with the foresight to do their planning in advance–for we all have to die, Oscar, we all have to die, and a sensible man might as well sit down over a friendly glass of beer and make his plans with a well-established firm he can trust.”

He leaned confidentially over me. “Look, milord Oscar . . . if by any miracle we get through this alive, you could put in a good word for me with Her. Make Her see that I’m too old for the Glory Road. I can do a lot to make your remaining days comfortable and pleasant . . . if your intentions toward me are comradely.”

“Didn’t we shake on it?”

“Ah, yes, so we did.” He sighed. “One for all and all for one, and Pikes Peak or Bust. You’re done.”

It was still light and Star was in her tent when we got back–and my clothes were laid out. I started to object when I saw them but Rufo said firmly, “She said ‘informal’ and that means black tie.”

I managed everything, even the studs (which were amazing big black pearls), and that tuxedo either had been tailored for me or it had been bought off the rack by someone who knew my height, weight, shoulders, and waist. The label inside the jacket read The English House, Copenhagen.

But the tie whipped me. Rufo showed up while I was struggling with it, had me lie down (I didn’t ask why) and tied it in a jiffy. “Do you want your watch, Oscar?”

“My watch?” So far as I knew it was in a doctors examining room in Nice. “You have it?”

“Yes, sir. I fetched everything of yours but your”–he shuddered–“clothes.”

He was not exaggerating. Everything was there, not only the contents of my pockets but the contents of my American Express deposit box: cash, passport, I.D., et cetera, even those Change Alley Sweepstakes tickets.

I started to ask how he had gotten into my lockbox but decided not to. He had had the key and it might have been something as simple as a fake letter of authority. Or as complex as his magical black box. I thanked him and he went back to his cooking.

I started to throw that stuff away, all but cash and passport. But one can’t be a litterbug in a place as beautiful as the Singing Waters. My sword belt had a leather pouch on it; I stuffed it in there, even the watch, which had stopped.

Rufo had set up a table in front of Star’s dainty tent and rigged a light from a tree over it and set candles on the table. It was dark before she came out . . . and waited. I finally realized that she was waiting for my arm. I led her to her place and seated her and Rufo seated me. He was dressed in a plum-colored footman’s uniform.

The wait for Star had been worth it; she was dressed in the green gown she had offered to model for me earlier. I still don’t know that she used cosmetics but she looked not at all like the lusty Undine who had been ducking me an hour earlier. She looked as if she should be kept under glass. She looked like Liza Doolittle at the Ball.

“Dinner in Rio” started to play, blending with the Singing Waters.

White wine with fish, rose wine with fowl, red wine with roast–Star chatted and smiled and was witty. Once Rufo, while bending over to me to serve, whispered, “The condemned ate heartily.” I told him to go to hell out of the corner of my mouth.

Champagne with the sweet and Rufo solemnly presented the bottle for my approval. I nodded. What would he have done if I had turned it down? Offered another vintage? Napolean with coffee. And cigarettes.

I had been thinking about cigarettes all day. These were Benson & Hedges No. 5 . . . and I had been smoking those black French things to save money.

While we were smoking, Star congratulated Rufo on the dinner and he accepted her compliments gravely and I seconded them. I still don’t know who cooked that hedonistic meal. Rufo did much of it but Star may have done the hard parts while I was being shaved.

After an unhurried happy time, sitting over coffee and brandy with the overhead light doused and only a single candle gleamed on her jewels and lighting her face. Star made a slight movement back from the table and I got up quickly and showed her to her tent. She stopped at its entrance. “Milord Oscar–”

So I kissed her and followed her in-

Like hell I did! I was so damned hypnotized that I bowed over her hand and kissed it. And that was hat.

That left me with nothing to do but get out of that borrowed monkey suit, hand it back to Rufo, and get a blanket from him. He had picked a spot to sleep at one side of her tent, so I picked one on the other and stretched out. It was still so pleasantly warm that even one blanket wasn’t needed.

But I didn’t go to sleep. The truth is, I’ve got a monkey on my back, a habit worse than marijuana though not as expensive as heroin. I can stiff it out and get to sleep anyway–but it wasn’t helping that I could see light in Stars tent and a silhouette that was no longer troubled by a dress.

The fact is I am a compulsive reader. Thirty-five cents’ worth of Gold Medal Original will put me right to sleep. Or Perry Mason. But I’ll read the ads in an old Paris-Match that has been used to wrap herring before I’ll do without.

I got up and went around the tent. “Psst! Rufo.”

“Yes, milord.” He was up fast, a dagger in his hand.

“Look, is there anything to read around this dump?”

“What sort of thing?”

“Anything, just anything. Words in a row.”

“Just a moment.” He was gone a while, using a flashlight around that beachhead dump of plunder. He came back and offered me a book and a small camp lamp. I thanked him, went back, and lay down.

It was an interesting book, written by Albertus Magnus and apparently stolen from the British Museum. Albert offered a long list of recipes for doing unlikely things: how to pacify storms and fly over clouds, how to overcome enemies, how to make a woman be true to you-

Here’s that last one: “If thou wilt that a woman bee not visions nor desire men, take the private members of a Woolfe, and the haires which doe grow on the cheekes, or the eye-brows of him, and the hairs which bee under his beard, and burne it all, and give it to her to drinke, when she knowethe not, and she shal desire no other man.”

This should annoy the “Woolfe.” And if I were the gal, it would annoy me, too; it sounds like a nauseous mixture. But that’s the exact formula, spelling and all, so if you are having trouble keeping her in line and have a “Woolfe” handy, try it. Let me know the results. By mail, not in person.

There were several recipes for making a woman love you who does not but a “Woolfe” was by far the simplest ingredient. Presently I put the book down and the light out and watched the moving silhouette on that translucent silk. Star was brushing her hair.

Then I quit tormenting myself and watched the stars, I’ve never learned the stars of the Southern Hemisphere; you seldom see stars in a place as wet as Southeast Asia and a man with a bump of direction doesn’t need them.

But that southern sky was gorgeous.

I was staring at one very bright star or planet (it seemed to have a disk) when suddenly I realized it was moving.

I sat up. “Hey! Star!”

She called back, “Yes, Oscar?”

“Come see! A sputnik. A big one!”

“Coming.” The light in her tent went out, she joined me quickly, and so did good old Pops Rufo, yawning and scratching his ribs. “Where, milord?” Star asked.

I pointed. “Right there! On second thought it may not be a sputnik; it might be one of our Echo series. It’s awfully big and bright.”

She glanced at me and looked away. Rufo said nothing. I stared at it a while longer, glanced at her.

She was watching me, not it. I looked again, watched it move against the backdrop of stars.

“Star,” I said, “that’s not a sputnik. Nor an Echo balloon. That’s a moon. A real moon.”

“Yes, milord Oscar.”

“Then this is not Earth.”

“That is true.”

“Hmm–” I looked back at the little moon, moving so fast among the stars, west to east.

Star said quietly, “You are not afraid, my hero?”

“Of what?”

“Of being in a strange world.”

“Seems to be a pretty nice world.”

“It is,” she agreed, “in many ways.”

“I like it,” I agreed. “But maybe it’s time I knew more about it. Where are we? How many light-years, r whatever it is, in what direction?”

She sighed. “I will try, milord. But it will not be easy; you have not studied metaphysical geometry–nor many other things. Think of the pages of a book–” I still had that cookbook of Albert the Great under my arm; she took it. “One page may resemble another very much. Or be very different. One page can be so close to another that it touches, at all points–yet have nothing to do with the page against it. We are as close to Earth–right now–as two pages in sequence in a book. And yet we are so far away that light-years cannot express it.”

“Look,” I said, “no need to get fancy about it. I used to watch ‘Twilight Zone.’ You mean another dimension. I dig it.”

She looked troubled “That’s somewhat the idea but–”

Rufo interrupted. “There’s still Igli in the morning.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “If we have to talk to Igli in the morning, maybe we need some sleep. I’m sorry. By the way, who is Igli?”

“You’ll find out,” said Rufo.

I looked up at that hurtling moon. “No doubt. Well, I’m sorry I disturbed you all with a silly mistake. Good night, folks.”

So I crawled back into my sleeping sills, like a proper hero (all muscles and no gonads, usually), and they sacked in too. She didn’t put the light back on, so I had nothing to look at but the hurtling moons of Barsoom. I had fallen into a book.

Well, I hoped it was a success and that the writer would keep me alive for lots of sequels. It was a pretty nice deal for the hero, up to this chapter at least. There was Dejah Thoris, curled up in her sleeping silks not twenty feet away.

I thought seriously of creeping up to the flap of her tent and whispering to her that I wanted to ask a few questions about metaphysical geometry and like matters. Love spells, maybe. Or maybe just tell her that it was cold outside and could I come in?

But I didn’t. Good old faithful Rufo was curled up just the other side of that tent and he had a disconcerting habit of coming awake fast with a dagger in his hand. And he liked to shave corpses. As I’ve said, given a choice. I’m chicken.

I watched the hurtling moons of Barsoom and fell asleep.

Chapter 6

Singing birds are better than alarm clocks and Barsoom was never like this. I stretched happily and smelled coffee and wondered if there was time for a dip before breakfast. It was another perfect day, blue and clear and the sun just up, and I felt like killing dragons before lunch. Small ones, that is.

I smothered a yawn and rolled to my feet. The lovely pavilion was gone and the black box mostly repacked; it was no bigger than a piano box. Star was kneeling before a fire, encouraging the coffee. She was a cavewoman this morning, dressed in a hide that was fancy but not as fancy as her own. From an ocelot, maybe. Or from du Pont.

“Howdy, Princess,” I said. “What’s for breakfast? And where’s your chef?”

“Breakfast later,” she said. “Just a cup of coffee for you now, too hot and too black–best you be bad tempered. Rufo is starting the talk with Igli.” She served it to me in a paper cup.

I drank half a cup, burned my mouth and spat out grounds. Coffee comes in five descending stages: Coffee, Java, Jamoke, Joe, and Carbon Remover. This stuff was no better than grade four.

I stopped then, having caught sight of Rufo. And company, lots of company. Along the edge of our terrace somebody had unloaded Noah’s Ark. There was everything there from aardvarks to zebus, most of them with long yellow teeth.

Rufo was facing this picket line, ten feet this side and opposite a particularly large and uncouth citizen. About then that paper cup came apart and scalded my fingers.

“Want some more?” Star asked.

I blew on my fingers. “No, thanks. This is Igli?”

“Just the one in the middle that Rufo is baiting. The rest have come to see the fun, you can ignore them.”

“Some of them look hungry.”

“Most of the big ones are like Cuvier’s devil, herbivorous. Those outsized lions would eat us–if Igli wins the argument. But only then. Igli is the problem.”

I looked Igli over more carefully. He resembled that scion of the man from Dundee, all chin and no forehead, and he combined the less appetizing features of giants and ogres in ‘The Red Fairy Book’. I never liked that book much.

He was vaguely human, using the term loosely. He was a couple of feet taller than I am and outweighed me three or four hundred pounds but I am much prettier. Hair grew on him in clumps, like a
discouraged lawn; and you just knew, without being told, that he had never used a man’s deodorant for manly men. The knots of his muscles had knots on them and his toenails weren’t trimmed.

“Star,” I said, “what’s the nature of the argument we have with him?”

“You must kill him, milord.”

I looked back at him. “Can’t we negotiate a peaceful coexistence? Mutual inspection, cultural exchange, and so forth?”

She shook her head. “He’s not bright enough for that. He’s here to stop us from going down into the valley–and either he dies, or we die.”

I took a deep breath. “Princess, I’ve reached a decision. A man who always obeys the law is even stupider than one who breaks it every chance. This is no time to worry about that local Sullivan Act. I want the flame-thrower, a bazooka, a few grenades, and the heaviest gun in that armory. Can you show me how to dig them out?”

She poked at the fire. “My hero,” she said slowly, “I’m truly sorry–but it isn’t that simple. Did you notice, last night when we were smoking, that Rufo lighted our cigarettes from candles? Not using even so much as a pocket lighter?”

“Well . . . no. I didn’t give it any thought.”

“This rule against firearms and explosives is not a law such as you have back on Earth. It is more than hat; it is impossible to use such things here. Else such things would be used against us.”

“You mean they won t work?”

“They will not work. Perhaps ‘hexed’ is the word.”

“Star. Look at me. Maybe you believe in hexes. I don’t. And I’ll give you seven to two that Tommy uns don’t, either. I intend to find out. Will you give me a hand in unpacking?”

For the first time she looked really upset. “Oh, milord, I beg of you not to!”

“Why not?”

“Even the attempt would be disastrous. Do you believe that I know more about the hazards and dangers–and laws–of this world than you do? Will you believe me when I say that I would not have you
die, that in solemn truth my own life and safety depend on yours? Please!”

It is impossible not to believe Star when she lays it on the line. I said thoughtfully, “Maybe you’re right–or that character over there would be carrying a six-inch mortar as a side arm. Uh, Star, I’ve got a still better idea. Why don’t we high tail it back the way we came and homestead that spot where we caught the fish? In five years well have a nice little farm. In ten years, after the word gets around, we’ll have a nice little motel, too, with a free-form swimming pool and a putting green.”

She barely smiled. “Milord Oscar, there is no turning back.”

“Why not? I could find it with my eyes closed.”

“But they would find us. Not Igli but more like him would be sent to harry and kill us.”

I sighed again. “As you say. They claim motels off the main highway are a poor risk anyhow. There’s a attle-axe in that duffel. Maybe I can chop his feet off before he notices me.” She shook her head again. I said, “What’s the matter now? Do I have to fight him with one foot in a ucket? I thought anything that cut or stabbed–anything I did with my own muscles–was okay?”

“It is okay, milord. But it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Igli can’t be killed. You see, he is not really alive. He is a construct, made invulnerable for this one urpose. Swords or knives or even axes will not cut him; they bounce off. I have seen it.”

“You mean he is a robot?”

“Not if you are thinking of gears and wheels and printed circuits. ‘Golem’ would be closer. The Igli is an imitation of life.” Star added, “Better than life in some ways, since there is no way–none that I know of–to kill him. But worse, too, as Igli isn’t very bright nor well balanced. He has conceit without judgment. Rufo is working on that now, warming him up for you, getting him so mad he can’t think straight.”

“He is? Gosh! I must be sure to thank Rufo for that. Thank him too much. I think. Well, Princess, what m I supposed to do now?”

She spread her hands as if it were all self-evident. “When you are ready, I will loose the wards–and then you will kill him.”

“But you just said–” I stopped. When they abolished the French Foreign Legion very few cushy billets were left for us romantic types. Umbopa could have handled this. Conan, certainly. Or Hawk Carse. Or even Don Quixote, for that thing was about the size of a windmill. “All right. Princess, let’s get on with it. Is it okay for me to spit on my hands? Or is that cheating?”

She smiled without dimpling and said gravely, “Milord Oscar, we will all spit on our hands; Rufo and I will be fighting right beside you. Either we win . . . or we all die.”

We walked over and joined Rufo. He was making donkeys ears at Igli and shouting, “Who’s your father, Igli? Your mother was a garbage can but who’s your father? Look at him! No belly button!
Yaaa!”

Igli retorted, “Your mother barks! Your sister gives green stamps!”–but rather feebly, I thought. It was plain that that remark about belly buttons had cut him to the quick–he didn’t have one. Only reasonable, I suppose.

The above is not quite what either of them said, except the remark about the belly button. I wish I could put it in the original because, in the Nevian language, the insult is a high art at least equal to poetry. In fact the epitome of literary grace is to address your enemy (publicly) in some difficult verse form, say the sestina, with every word dripping vitriol.

Rufo cackled gleefully. “Make one, Igli! Push your finger in and make one. They left you out in the rain and you ran. They forgot to finish you. Call that thing a nose?” He said in an aside to me, in English, “How do you want him. Boss? Rare? Or well done?”

“Keep him busy while I study the matter. He doesn’t understand English?”

“Not a bit.”

“Good. How close can I go to him without getting grabbed?”

“Close as you like as long as the wards are up. But, Boss–look. I’m not supposed to advise you–but when we get down to work, don’t let him get you by the plums.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“You be careful.” Rufo turned his head and shouted, “Yaaa! Igli picks his nose and eats it!” He added, “She is a good doctor, the best, but just the same, you be careful.”

“I will.” I stepped closer to the invisible barrier, looked up at this creature. He glared down at me and made growling noises, so I thumbed my nose at him and gave him a wet, fruity Bronx cheer. I was downwind and it seemed likely that he hadn’t had a bath in thirty or forty years; he smelled worse than a locker room at the half.

It gave me a seed of an idea. “Star, can this cherub swim?”

She looked surprised. “I really don’t know.”

“Maybe they forgot to program him for it. How about you, Rufo?”

Rufo looked smug. “Try me, just try me. I could teach fish. Igli! Tell us why the sow wouldn’t kiss you!”

Star could swim like a seal. My style is more like a ferryboat but I get there. “Star, maybe that thing can’t be killed but it breathes. It’s got some sort of oxygen metabolism, even if it burns kerosene. If we held his head underwater for a while–as long as necessary–I’ll bet the fire would go out.”

She looked wide-eyed. “Milord Oscar . . . my champion . . . I was not mistaken in you.”

“It’s going to take some doing. Ever play water polo, Rufo?”

“I invented it.”

I hoped he had. I had played it–once. Like being ridden on a rail, it is an interesting experience–once. “Rufo, can you lure our chum down toward the bank? I take it that the barrier follows this line of furry and feathery friends? If it does, we can get him almost to that high piece of bank with the deep pool under it–you know, Star, where you dunked me the first time.”

“Nothing to it,” said Rufo. “We move, he’ll come along.”

“I d like to get him running. Star, how long does it take you to unswitch your fence?”

“I can loose the wards in an instant, milord.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. Rufo, I want you to get Igli to chasing you, as fast as possible–and you cut out and head for that high bank just before you reach the stream. Star, when Rufo does that, you chop off the barrier–loose the wards–instantly. Don’t wait for me to say so. Rufo, you dive in and swim like hell; don’t let him grab you. With any luck, if Igli is moving fast, as big and clumsy as he is he’ll go in, too, whether he means to or not. But I’ll be pacing you, flanking you and a bit behind you. If Igli manages to put on the brakes, I’ll hit him with a low tackle and knock him in. Then we all play water polo.”

“Water polo I have never seen,” Star said doubtfully.

“There won’t be any referee. All it means this time is that all three of us jump him, in the water, and shove his head under and keep it there–and help each other to keep him from shoving our heads under. Big as he is, unless he can outswim us he’ll be at a terrible disadvantage. We go on doing this until he is limp and stays limp, never let him get a breath. Then, to make sure, well weigh him down with stones–it won’t matter whether he’s really dead or not. Any questions?”

Rufo grinned like a gargoyle. “This is going to be fun!”

Both those pessimists seemed to think that it would work, so we got started. Rufo shouted an allegation about Igli’s personal habits that even Olympia Press would censor, then dared Igli to race him,
offering an obscene improbability as a wager.

It took Igli a lumbering long time to get that carcass moving but when he did get rolling, he was faster than Rufo and left a wake of panicked animals and birds behind him. I’m pretty fast but I was hard pushed to hold position on the giant, flanking and a few paces back, and I hoped that Star would not loose the wards if it appeared that Igli might catch Rufo on dry land.

However, Star did loose the wards just as Rufo cut away from the barrier, and Rufo reached the bank and made a perfect racing dive without slowing down, all to plan.

But nothing else was.

I think Igli was too stupid to twig at once that the barrier was down. He kept on a few paces after Rufo had gone left oblique, then did cut left rather sharply. But he had lost speed and he didn’t have any trouble stopping on dry land.

I hit him a diving tackle, illegal and low, and down he went–but not over into the water. And suddenly I had a double armful of struggling and very smelly Golem.

But I had a wildcat helping me at once, and quickly thereafter Rufo, dripping wet, added his vote.

But it was a stalemate and one that we were bound to lose in time. Igli outweighed all of us put together and seemed to be nothing but muscle and stink and nails and teeth. We were suffering bruises, contusions, and flesh wounds–and we weren’t doing Igli any damage, Oh, he screamed like a TV grunt & groaner every time one of us twisted an ear or bent back a finger, but we weren’t really hurting him and he was decidedly hurting us. There wasn’t a chance of dragging that hulk into the water.

I had started with my arms around his knees and I stayed that way, of necessity, as long as I could, while Star tried to weigh down one of his arms and Rufo the other. But the situation was fluid; Igli
thrashed like a rattler with its back broken and was forever getting one limb or another free and trying to gouge and bite. It got us into odd positions and I found myself hanging onto one callused foot, trying to twist it off, while I stared into his open mouth, wide as a bear trap and less appetizing. His teeth needed
cleaning.

So I shoved the toe of his foot into his mouth.

Igli screamed, so I kept on shoving, and pretty soon he didn’t have room to scream. I kept on pushing.

When he had swallowed his own left leg up to the knee, be managed to wrench his right arm loose from Star and grabbed at his disappearing leg–and I grabbed his wrist. “Help me!” I yelped to Star.

“Push!”

She got the idea and shoved with me. That arm went into his mouth to the elbow and the leg went farther in, quite a bit of the thigh. By, then Rufo was working with us and forced Igli’s left hand in past his cheek and into the jaws. Igli wasn’t struggling so hard by then, short on air probably, so getting the toe of his right foot started into his mouth simply required determination, with Rufo hauling back on his hairy nostrils while I bore down with a Knee on his chin and Star pushed.

We kept on feeding him into his mouth, gaining an inch at a time and never letting up. He was still quivering and trying to get loose when we had him rolled up clear to his hips, and his rank armpits about to disappear.

It was like rolling a snowball in reverse; the more we pushed, the smaller he got and the more his mouth stretched–ugliest sight I ever have seen. Soon he was down to the size of a medicine ball . . . and then a soccer ball . . . then a baseball and I rolled him between my palms and kept pushing, hard.

–a golf ball, a marble, a pea . . . and finally there was nothing but some dirty grease on my hands.

Rufo took a deep breath. “I guess that’ll teach him not to put his foot in his mouth with his betters. Who’s ready for breakfast?”

“I want to wash my hands first,” I said.

We all bathed, using plenty of soap, then Star took care of our wounds and had Rufo treat hers, under her instructions. Rufo is right; Star is the best medic. The stuff she used on us did not sting, the cuts closed up, the flexible dressings she put over them did not have to be changed, and fell off in time with no infection and no scars. Rufo had one very bad bite, about forty cents’ worth of hamburger out of his left buttock, but when Star was through with him, he could sit down and it didn’t seem to bother him.

Rufo fed us little golden pancakes and big German sausages, popping with fat, and gallons of good coffee. It was almost noon before Star loosed the wards again and we set out for our descent down the cliff.

Chapter 7

The descent beside the great waterfall into Nevia valley is a thousand feet and more than sheer; the cliff overhangs and you go down on a line, spinning slowly like a spider. I don’t advise this; it is dizzy-making and I almost lost those wonderful pancakes.

The view is stupendous. You see the waterfall from the side, free-springing, not wetting the cliff, and falling so far that it shrouds itself in mist before it hits bottom. Then as you turn you face frowning cliff, then a long look out over a valley too lush and green and beautiful to be believed–marsh and forest at the
foot of the cliff, cultivated fields in middle distance a few miles away, then far beyond and hazy at the base but sharp at the peaks a mighty wall of snow-covered mountains.

Star had sketched the valley for me. “First we fight our way through the marsh. After that it is easy going–we simply have to look sharp for blood kites. Because we come to a brick road, very nice.”

“A yellow brick road?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s the clay they have. Does it matter?”

“I guess not. Just don’t make a hobbit of it. Then what?”

“After that we’ll stop overnight with a family, the squire of the countryside there. Good people, you’ll enjoy them.”

“And then the going gets tough,” Rufo added.

“Rufo, don’t borrow trouble!” Star scolded. “You will please refrain from comments and allow Oscar to cope with his problems as he comes to them, rested, clear-eyed, and unworried. Do you know
anyone else who could have handled Igli?”

“Well, since you put it that way . . . no.”

“I do put it that way. We all sleep in comfort tonight. Isn’t that enough? You’ll enjoy it as much as anyone.”

“So will you.”

“When did I ever fail to enjoy anything? Hold your tongue. Now, Oscar, at the root of the cliff are the Horned Ghosts–no way to avoid them, they’ll see us coming down. With luck we won’t see any of the Cold Water Gang; they stay back in the mists. But if we have the bad luck to encounter both, we may have the good luck that they will fight each other and let us slip away. The path through the marsh is tricky; you had best study, this sketch until you know it. Solid footing is only where little yellow flowers
grow no matter how solid and dry a piece looks. But, as you can see, even if you stay carefully on the safe bits, there are so many side trails and dead ends that we could wander all day and be trapped by darkness–and never get out.”

So here I was, coming down first, because the Horned Ghosts would be waiting at the bottom. My privilege. Wasn’t I a “Hero”? Hadn’t I made Igli swallow himself?

But I wished that the Horned Ghosts really were ghosts. They were two-legged animals, omnivorous. They ate anything, including each other, and especially travelers. From the belly up they were described to me as much like the Minotaur; from there down they were splayfooted satyrs. Their upper limbs were short arms but without real hands–no thumbs.

But oh those horns! They had horns like Texas longhorns, but sticking up and forward.

However, there is one way of converting a Horned Ghost into a real ghost. It has a soft place on its skull, like a baby’s soft spot, between those horns. Since the brute charges head down, attempting to impale you, this is the only vulnerable spot that can be reached. All it takes is to stand your ground, don’t flinch, aim for that one little spot–and hit it.

So my task was simple. Go down first, kill as many as necessary to insure that Star would have a safe spot to land, then stand fast and protect her until Rufo was down. After that we were free to carve our way through the marsh to safety. If the Cold Water Gang didn’t join the party-

I tried to ease my position in the sling I was riding–my left leg had gone to sleep–and looked down. A hundred feet below the reception committee had gathered.

It looked like an asparagus patch. Of bayonets.

I signaled to stop lowering. Far above me, Rufo checked the line; I hung there, swaying, and tried to think. If I had them lower me straight into that mob, I might stick one or two before I myself was
impaled. Or maybe none–The only certainty was that I would be dead long before my friends could join me.

On the other hand, besides that soft spot between the horns, each of these geeks had a soft underbelly, just made for arrows. If Rufo would lower me a bit-

I signaled to him. I started slowly down, a bit jerkily, and he almost missed my signal to stop again. I had to pull up my feet; some of those babies were a-snorting and a-ramping around and shoving each other for a chance to gore me. One Nijinsky among them did manage to scrape the sole of my left buskin, giving me goose flesh clear to my chin.

Under that strong inducement I pulled myself hand over hand up the line far enough to let me get my feet into the sling instead of my fanny. I stood in it hanging onto the line and standing on one foot and then on the other to work pins and needles out. Then I unslung my bow and strung it. This feat would have been worthy of a trained acrobat–but have you ever tried to bend a bow and let fly while standing in a bight at one end of a thousand-foot line and clinging to the line with one hand?

You lose arrows that way. I lost three and almost lost me.

I tried buckling my belt around the line. That caused me to hang upside down and lost me my Robin Hood hat and more arrows. My audience liked that one; they applauded–I think it was applause–so, for an encore, I tried to shift the belt up around my chest to enable me to hang more or less straight down–and maybe get off an arrow or two.

I didn’t quite lose my sword.

So far, my only results had been to attract customers (“Mama, see the funny man!”) and to make myself swing back and forth like a pendulum.

Bad as the latter was, it did give me an idea. I started increasing that swing, pumping it up like a playground swing. This was slow wore and it took a while to get the hang of it, as the period of that
pendulum of which I was the weight was over a minute–and it does no good to try to hurry a pendulum; you have to work with it, not against it. I hoped my friends could see well enough to guess what I was doing and not foul it up.

After an unreasonably long time I was swinging back and forth in a flattish arc about a hundred feet fang, passing very fast over the heads of my audience at the bottom of each swing, slowing to a stop at the end of each swing. At first those spike heads tried to move with me, but they tired of that and squatted near the midpoint and watched, their heads moving as I swung, like spectators of a slow-motion tennis match.

But there is always some confounded innovator. My notion was to drop off at one end of this arc where it just missed the cuff and make a stand there with my back to the wall. The ground was higher there, I would not have so far to drop. But one of those horned horrors figured it out and trotted over to that end of the swing. He was followed by two or three more.

That settled it; I would nave to drop off at the other end. But young Archimedes figured that out, too. He left his buddies at the cliff face and trotted after me. I pulled ahead of him at the low point of the swing–but slowed down and he caught up with me long before I reached the dead point at the end. He had only a hundred feet to do in about thirty seconds–a slow walk. He was under me when I got there.

The odds wouldn’t improve; I kicked my feet clear, hung by one hand and drew sword during that too-slow traverse, and dropped off anyway. My notion was to spit that tender spot on his head before my feet touched the ground.

Instead, I missed and he missed and I knocked him sprawling and sprawled right after him and rolled to my feet and ran for the cuff face nearest me, poking that genius in his belly with my sword without stopping.

That foul blow saved me. His friends and relatives stopped to quarrel over who got the prime ribs before a clot of them moved in my direction. This gave me time to set my feet on a pile of scree at the base of the cliff, where I could play “King of the Castle,” and return my sword and nock an arrow.

I didn’t wait for them to rush me. I simply waited until they were close enough that I could not miss, took a bead on the wishbone of the old bull who was leading them, if he had a wishbone, and let that shaft go with every pound of that heavy bow.

It passed through him and stuck into one behind him.

This led to another quarrel over the price of chops. They ate them, teeth and toenails. That was their weakness: all appetite and too little brain. If they had cooperated, they could have had me in one rush when I first hit the ground. Instead they stopped for lunch.

I glanced up. High above me, Star was a tiny spider on a thread; she grew rapidly larger. I moved crabwise along the wall until I was opposite the point, forty feet from the cliff, where she would touch ground.

When she was about fifty feet up, she signaled Rufo to stop lowering, drew her sword and saluted me. “Magnificent, my Hero!” We were all wearing swords; Star had chosen a dueling sword with a 34″ blade–a big sword for a woman but Star is a big woman. She had also packed her belt pouch with medic’s supplies, an ominous touch had I noticed, but did not, at the time.

I drew and returned her salute. They were not bothering me yet, although some, having finished lunch or having been crowded out, were milling around and looking me over. Then I sheathed again, and nocked an arrow. “Start pumping it up. Star, right toward me. Have Rufo lower you a bit more.”

She returned sword and signaled Rufo. He let her down slowly until she was about nine feet off the ground, where she signaled a stop. “Now pump it up!” I called out. Those bloodthirsty natives had forgotten me; they were watching Star, those not still busy eating Cousin Abbie or Great-Uncle John.

“All right,” she answered. “But I have a throwing line. Can you catch it?”

“Oh!” The smart darling had watched my maneuvers and had figured out what would be needed. “Hold it a moment! Ill make a diversion.” I reached over my shoulder, counted arrows by touch–seven. I had started with twenty and made use of one; the rest were scattered, lost.

I used three in a hurry, right, left, and ahead, picking targets as far away as I dared risk, aiming at midpoint and depending on that wonderful bow to take those shafts straight and flat. Sure enough, the crowd went for fresh meat like a government handout. “Now!”

Ten seconds later I caught her in my arms and collected a split-second kiss for toll.

Ten minutes later Rufo was down by the same tactics, at a cost of three of my arrows and two of Star’s smaller ones. He had to lower himself, sitting in the bight and checking the free end of the line under both armpits; he would have been a sitting duck without help. As soon as he was untangled from the line, he started jerking it down off the cliff, and faking it into a coil.

“Leave that!” Star said sharply. “We haven’t time and it’s too heavy to carry.”

“I’ll put it in the pack.”

“No.”

“It’s a good line,” Rufo persisted. “We’ll need it.”

“You’ll need a shroud if we’re not through the marsh by nightfall.” Star turned to me. “How shall we arch, milord?”

I looked around. In front of us and to the left a few jokers still milled around, apparently hesitant about getting closer. To our right and above us the great cloud at the base of the Tails made iridescent lace in the sky. About three hundred yards in front of us was where we would enter the trees anjust beyond the marsh started.

We went downhill in a tight wedge, myself on point, Rufo and Star following on flank, all of us with arrows nocked. I had told them to draw swords if any Homed Ghost got within fifty feet.

None did. One idiot came straight toward us, alone, and Rufo knocked him over with an arrow at twice that distance. As we came up on the corpse Rufo drew his dagger. “Let it be!” said Star. She eemed edgy.

“I’m just going to get the nuggets and give them to Oscar.”

“And get us all killed. If Oscar wants nuggets, he shall have them.”

“What sort of nuggets?” I asked, without stopping.

“Gold, Boss. Those blighters have gizzards like a chicken. But gold is all they swallow for it. Old ones ield maybe twenty, thirty pounds.”

I whistled.

“Gold is common here,” Star explained. “There is a great heap of it at the base of the falls, inside the loud, washed down over eons. It causes fights between the Ghosts and the Cold Water Gang, ecause
the Ghosts have this odd appetite and sometimes risk entering the cloud to satisfy it.”

“I haven’t seen any of the Cold Water Gang yet,” I commented.

“Pray God you don’t,” Rufo answered.

“All the more reason to get deep into the marsh,” Star added. “The Gang doesn’t go into it and even the Ghosts don’t go far in. Despite their splay feet, they can be sucked under.”

“Anything dangerous in the swamp itself?”

“Plenty,” Rufo told me. “So be sure you step on the yellow flowers.”

“Watch where you put your own feet. If that map was right, I won’t lose us. What does a Cold Water Gangster look like?”

Rufo said thoughtfully, “Ever seen a man who had been drowned for a week?” I let the matter drop.

Before we got to the trees I had us sling bows and draw swords. Just inside the cover of trees, they jumped us. Horned Ghosts, I mean, not the Cold Water Gang. An ambush from all sides, I don’t know how many. Rufo killed four or five and Star at least two and I danced around, looking active and trying to survive.

We had to climb up and over bodies to move on, too many to count.

We kept on into the swamp, following the little golden pathfinder flowers and the twists and turns of the map in my head. In about half an hour we came to a clearing big as a double garage. Star said faintly, “This is far enough.” She had been holding one hand pressed to her side but bad not been willing to stop until then, although blood stained her tunic and all down the left leg of her tights.

She let Rufo attend her first, while I guarded the bottleneck into the clearing. I was relieved not to be asked to help, as, after we gently removed her tunic, I felt sick at seeing how badly she had been gored–and never a peep out of her. That golden body–hurt!

As a knight errant, I felt like a slob.

But she was chipper again, once Rufo had followed her instructions. She treated Rufo, then treated me–half a dozen wounds each but scratches compared with the rough one she had taken.

Once she had me patched up she said, “Milord Oscar, how long will it be until we are out of the marsh?”

I ran through it in my head. “Does the going get any worse?”

“Slightly better.”

“Not over an hour.”

“Good. Don’t put those filthy clothes back on. Rufo, unpack a bit and well have clean clothes and more arrows. Oscar, well need them for the blood kites, once we are out of the trees.”

The little black box filled most of the clearing before it was unfolded enough to let Rufo get out clothes and reach the arsenal. But clean clothes and lull quiver made me feel like a new man, especially after Rufo dug out a half liter of brandy and we split it three ways, gurglegurgle! Star replenished her medic’s pouch, then I helped Rufo fold up the luggage.

Maybe Rufo was giddy from brandy and no lunch. Or perhaps from loss of blood. It could have been just the bad luck of an unnoticed patch of slippery mud. He had the box in his arms, about to make the last closure that would fold it to knapsack size, when he slipped, recovered violently, and the box sailed out of his arms into a chocolate-brown pool.

It was far out of reach. I yelled, “Rufo, off with your belt!” I was reaching for the buckle of mine.

“No, no!” screamed Rufo. “Stand back! Get clear!”

A corner of the box was still in sight. With a safety line on me I knew I could get it, even if there was no bottom to the pool. I said so, angrily.

“No, Oscar!” Star said urgently. “He’s right. We march. Quickly.”

So we marched–me leading. Star breathing on my neck, Rufo crowding her heels.

We had gone a hundred yards when there was a mud volcano behind us. Not much noise, just a bass rumble and a slight earthquake, then some very dirty rain. Star quit hurrying and said pleasantly, “Well, that’s that.”

Rufo said, “And all the liquor was in it!”

“I don’t mind that,” Star answered. “Liquor is everywhere. But I had new clothes in there, pretty ones, Oscar. I wanted you to see them; I bought them with you in mind.”

I didn’t answer. I was thinking about a flame-thrower and an M-1 and a couple of cases of ammo. And the liquor, of course.

“Did you hear me, milord?” she persisted. “I wanted to wear them for you.”

“Princess,” I answered, “you have your prettiest clothes right with you, always.”

I heard the happy chuckle that goes with her dimples. “I’m sure that you have often said that before. And no doubt with great success.”

We were out of the swamp long before dark and hit the brick road soon after. Blood kites are no problem. They are such murderous things that if you shoot an arrow in the direction of one of their dives, a kite will swerve and pluck it out of the air, getting the shaft right down its gullet. We usually recovered the arrows.

We were among plowed fields soon after we reached the road and soon the blood kites thinned out. Just at sundown we could see outbuildings and the lights in the manor where Star said that we would spend the night.

Chapter 8

Milord Doral ‘t Giuk Dorali should have been a Texan. I don’t mean that the Doral could have been mistaken for a Texan but he had that you-paid-for-the-lunch-I’ll-pay-for-the-Cadillacs xpansiveness.

His farmhouse was the size of a circus tent and as lavish as a Thanksgiving dinner–rich, sumptuous, fine carvings and inlaid jewels. Nevertheless it had a sloppy, lived-in look and if you didn’t watch where you put your feet, you would step on a child’s toy on a broad, sweeping staircase and wind up with a broken collarbone. There were children and dogs underfoot everywhere and the youngest of each weren’t housebroken. It didn’t worry the Doral. Nothing worried the Doral, he enjoyed life.

We had been passing through his fields for miles (rich as the best Iowa farmland and no winters; Star told me they produced four crops a year)–but it was late in the day and an occasional field hand was all we saw save for one wagon we met on the road. I thought that it was pulled by a team of two pairs of horses. I was mistaken; the team was but one pair and the animals were not horses, they had eight legs each.

All of Nevia valley is like that, the commonplace mixed with the wildly different. Humans were humans, dogs were dogs–but horses weren’t horses. Like Alice trying to cope with the Flamingo, every time I thought I had it licked, t would wiggle loose.

The man driving those equine centipedes stared but not because we were dressed oddly; he was dressed as I was. He was staring at Star, as who wouldn’t? The people working in fields had mostly been dressed in sort of a lava-lava. This garment, a simple wraparound tied off at the waist, is the equivalent in Nevia of overalls or blue jeans for both men and women; what we were wearing was equal to the Gray Flannel Suit or to a woman s basic black. Party or formal clothes–well, that’s another matter.

As we turned into the grounds of the manor we picked up a wake of children and dogs. One kid ran ahead and, when we reached the broad terrace in front of the main house, milord Doral himself came out the great front door. I didn’t pick him for lord of the manor; he was wearing one of those short sarongs, was barefooted and bareheaded. He had thick hair, shot with gray, an imposing beard, and looked like General U. S. Grant.

Star waved and called out, “Jock! Oh, Jocko!” (The name was “Giuk,” but I caught it as “Jock” and Jock he is.)

The Doral stared at us, then lumbered forward like a tank, “Ettyboo! Bless your beautiful blue eyes! Bless your bouncy little bottom! Why didn’t you let me know?” (I have to launder this because Nevian idioms don’t parallel ours. Try translating certain French idioms literally into English and you’ll see what I mean. The Doral was not being vulgar; he was being formally and gallantly polite to an old and highly respected friend.)

He grabbed Star in a hug, lifted her off her feet, kissed her on both cheeks and on the mouth, gnawed one ear, then set her down with an arm around her. “Games and celebrations! Three months of holiday! Races and rassling every day, orgies every night! Prizes for the strongest, the fairest, the wittiest–”

Star stopped him. “Milord Doral–”

“Eh? And a prize of all prizes for the first baby born–”

“Jocko darling! I love you dearly, but tomorrow we must ride. All we ask is a bone to gnaw and a corner to sleep in.”

“Nonsense! You can’t do this to me.”

“You know that I must.”

“Politics be damned! I’ll die at your feet, Sugar Pie. Poor old Jocko’s heart will stop. I feel an attack coming right now.” He felt around his chest. “Someplace here–”

She poked him in the belly. “You old fraud. You’ll die as you’ve lived, and not of heartbreak. Milord Doral–”

“Yes, milady?”

“I bring you a Hero.”

He blinked. “You’re not talking about Rufo? Hi, Rufe, you old polecat! Heard any good ones lately? Get back to the kitchen and pick yourself a lively one.”

“Thank you, milord Doral.” Rufo “made a leg,” bowing deeply, and left us.

Star said firmly, “If the Doral please.”

“I hear.”

Star untangled his arm, stood straight and tall and started to chant:

“By the Singing Laughing Waters

“Came a Hero Fair and Fearless.

“Oscar hight this noble warrior,

“Wise and Strong and never daunted,

“Trapped the Igli with a question,

“Caught him out with paradoxes,

“Shut the Igli’s mouth with Igli.

“Fed him to him, feet and fingers!

“Nevermore the Singing Waters . . .

It went on and on, none of it lies yet none of it quite true–colored like a press agent’s handout. For example, Star told him that I had killed twenty-seven Horned Ghosts, one with my bare hands. I don’t remember that many and as for “bare hands,” that was an accident. I had just stabbed one of those vermin as another one tumbled at my feet, shoved from behind. I didn’t have time to get my sword clear, so I set a foot on one horn and pulled hard on the other with my left hand and his head came apart like snapping a wishbone. But I had done it from desperation, not choice.

Star even ad-libbed a long excursus about my father’s heroism and alleged that my grandaddy had led the chaise at San Juan Hill and then started in on my great-grandfathers. But when she told him how I had picked up that scar that runs from left eye to right jaw, she pulled out all the stops.

Now look, Star had quizzed me the first time I met her and she had encouraged me to tell her more during that long hike the day before. But I did not give her most of the guff she was handing the Doral. She must have had the Surete, the FBI, the Archie Goodwin on me for months. She even named the team we had played against when I busted my nose and I never told her that.

I stood there blushing while the Doral looked me up and down with whistles and snorts of appreciation. When Star ended, with a simple: “Thus it happened,” he let out a long sigh and said, “Could we have that part about Igli over again?”

Star complied, chanting different words and more detail. The Doral listened, frowning and nodding approval. “A heroic solution,” he said. “So he’s a mathematician, too. Where did he study?”

“A natural genius, Jock.”

“It figures.” He stepped up to me, looked me in the eye and put his hands on my shoulders. “The Hero who confounds Igli may choose any house. But he will honor my home by accepting hospitality of roof . . . and table . . . and bed?”

He spoke with great earnestness, holding my eye; I had no chance to look at Star for a hint. And I wanted a hint. The person who says smugly that good manners are the same everywhere and people are just people hasn’t been farther out of Podunk than the next whistle stop. I’m no sophisticate but I had been around enough to learn that. It was a formal speech, stuffed with protocol, and called for a formal answer.

I did the best I could. I put my hands on his shoulders and answered solemnly, “I am honored far beyond any merit of mine, sir.”

“But you accept?” he said anxiously.

“I accept with all my heart.” (“Heart” is close enough. I was having trouble with language.)

He seemed to sigh with relief. “Glorious!” He grabbed me in a bear hug, kissed me on both cheeks, and only some fast dodging kept me from being kissed on the mouth.

Then he straightened up and shouted, “Wine! Beer! Schnapps! Who the dadratted tomfoolery is supposed to be chasing? I’ll skin somebody alive with a rusty file! Chairs! Service for a Hero! Where is everybody?”

That last was uncalled for; while Star was reciting what a great guy I am, some eighteen or fifty people had gathered on the terrace, pushing and shoving and trying to get a better look. Among them must have been the personnel with the day’s duty because a mug of ale was shoved into my hand and a four-ounce
glass of 110-proof firewater into the other before the boss stopped yelling. Jocko drank boilermaker style, so I followed suit, then was happy to sit down on a chair that was already behind me, with my teeth loosened, my scalp lifted, and the beer just starting to put out the fire.

Other people plied me with bits of cheese, cold meats, pickled this and that, and unidentified drinking food all tasty, not waiting for me to accept it but shoving it into my mouth if I opened it even to say “Gesundheit!” I ate as offered and soon it blotted up the hydrofluoric acid.

In the meantime the Doral was presenting his household to me. It would have been better had they worn chevrons because I never did get them straightened out as to rank. Clothes didn’t help because, just as the squire was dressed like a field hand, the second scullery maid might (and sometimes did) duck back in and load herself with golden ornaments and her best party dress. Nor were they presented in order of rank.

I barely twigged as to which was the lady of the manor, Jocko’s wife–his senior wife. She was a very comely older woman, a brunette carrying a few pounds extra but with that dividend most fetchingly distributed. She was dressed as casually as Jocko out, fortunately, I noticed her because she went at nce to greet Star and they embraced warmly, two old friends. So I had my ears spread when she was presented to me a moment later–as (and I caught it) the Doral (just as Jocko was the Doral) but with the feminine ending.

I jumped to my feet, grabbed her hand, bowed over it and pressed it to my lips. This isn’t even faintly a Nevian custom but it brought cheers and Mrs. Doral blushed and looked pleased and Jocko grinned proudly.

She was the only one I stood up for. Each of the men and boys made a leg to me, with a bow; all the gals from six to sixty curtsied–not as we know it, but Nevian style. It looted more like a step of the Twist. Balance on one foot and lean back as far as possible, then balance on the other while leaning forward, all the while undulating slowly. This doesn’t sound graceful but it is, and it proved that there was not a case of arthritis nor a slipped disk anywhere on the Doral spread.

Jocko hardly ever bothered with names. The females were “Sweetheart” and “Honeylamb” and “Pretty Puss” and he called all the males, even those who seemed to be older than he was, “Son.”

Possibly most of them were his sons. The setup in Nevia I don’t fully understand. This looked like a feudalism out of our own history–and maybe it was–but whether this mob was the Doral’s slaves, his serfs, his hired hands, or all members of one big family I never got straight. A mixture, I think. Titles didn’t mean anything. The only title Jocko held was that he was singled out by a grammatical inflection as being THE Doral instead of just any of a couple of hundred Dorals. I’ve scattered the tag “milord” here and there in this memoir because Star and Rufo used it, but it was simply a courteous form of address paralleling one in Nevian. “Freiherr” does not mean “free man, and “monsieur” does not mean “my lord”–these things don’t translate well. Star sprinkled her speech with “milords” because she was much too polite to say “Hey, Mac!” even with her intimates.

(The very politest endearments in Nevian would win you a clout in the teeth in the USA.)

Once all hands had been presented to the Gordon, Hero First Class, we adjourned to get ready for the banquet that Jocko, cheated of his three months of revelry, had swapped for his first intention. It Split me off from Star as well as from Rufo; I was escorted to my chambers by my two valettes.

That’s what I said. Female. Plural. It is a good thing that I had become relaxed to female attendants in men’s washrooms, European style, and still more relaxed by Southeast Asia and l’Ile du Levant; they don’t teach you how to cope with valettes in American public schools. Especially when they are young
and cute and terribly anxious to please . . . and I had had a long, dangerous day. I learned, first time out on patrol, that nothing hikes up that old biological urge like being shot at and living through it.

It there had been only one, I might have been late to dinner. As it was, they chaperoned each other, though not intentionally, I believe. I patted the redhead on her fanny when the other one wasn’t looking and reached, I thought, an understanding for a later time.

Well, having your back scrubbed is fun, too. Shorn, shampooed, shined, shaved, showered, smelling like a belligerent rose, decked out in the fanciest finely since Cecil B. deMille rewrote the Bible, I was delivered by them to the banquet hall on time.

But the proconsul’s dress uniform I wore was a suit of fatigues compared with Star’s getup. She had
lost all her pretty clothes earlier in the day but our hostess had been able to dig up something.

First a dress that covered Star from chin to ankle–like plate glass. It seemed to be blue smoke, it clung to her and billowed out behind. Underneath was “underwear.” She appeared to be wrapped in twining ivy–but this ivy was gold, picked out in sapphires. It curved across her beautiful belly, divided into strands and cupped her breasts, the coverage being about like a bikini minimum but more startling and much more effective.

Her shoes were sandals in an S-curve of something transparent and springy. Nothing appeared to hold them on, no straps, no clips; her lovely feet, bare, rested on them. It made her appear as if she were on tiptoe about four inches off the floor.

Her great mane of blond hair was built up into a structure as complex as a full-rigged ship, and studded with sapphires. She was wearing a fortune or two of sapphires here and there on her body, too; I won’t itemize.

She spotted me just as I caught sight of her. Her face lit up and she called out, in English, “My Hero, you are beautiful!”

I said “Uh–”

Then I added, “You haven’t been wasting your time, either. Do I sit with you? I’ll need coaching.”

“No, no! You sit with the gentlemen, I sit with the ladies. You won’t have any trouble.”

This is not a bad way to arrange a banquet. We each had separate low tables, the men in a row facing the ladies, with about fifteen feet between them. It wasn’t necessary to make chitchat with the ladies and they all were worth looking at. The Lady Doral was opposite me and was giving Star a run for the Golden Apple. Her costume was opaque some places but not the usual places. Most of it was diamonds. I believe they were diamonds; I don’t think they make rhinestones that big.

About twenty were seated; two or three times that many were serving, entertaining, or milling around. Three girls did nothing but see to it that I did not starve nor die of thirst–I didn’t have to learn how to use their table tools; I never touched them. The girls knelt by me; I sat on a big cushion. Later in the evening Jocko lay flat on his back with his head in a lap so that his maids could pop food into his mouth or hold a cup to his lips.

Jocko had three maids as I did; Star and Mrs. Jocko had two each; the rest struggled along with one apiece. These serving maids illustrate why I had trouble telling the players without a program. My hostess and my Princess were dressed fit to kill, sure–but one of my flunkies, a sixteen-year-old strong contender for Miss Nevia, was dressed only in jewelry but so much of it that she was more “modestly” dressed than Star or Doral Letva, the Lady Doral.

Nor did they act like servants except for their impassioned determination to see that I got drunk and stuffed. They chattered among themselves in teen-age argot and me wisecracks about how big my muscles were, etc., as if I had not been present. Apparently heroes are not expected to talk, for every time I opened my mouth something went into it.

There was always something doing–dancers, jugglers, recitations of poetry–in the space between the tables. Kids wandered around and grabbed tidbits from platters before they reached the tables. One little doll about three years old squatted down in front of me, all big eyes and open mouth, and stared, letting dancers avoid her as best they could. I tried to get her to come to me, but she just stared and played with her toes.

A damsel with a dulcimer strolled among the tables, singing and playing. It could have been a dulcimer, she might have been a damsel.

About two hours along in the feast, Jocko stood up, roared for silence, belched loudly, shook off maids who were trying to steady him, and started to recite.

Same verse, different tune–he was reciting my exploits. I would have thought that he was too drunk to recite a limerick but he sounded off endlessly, in perfect scansion with complex inner rhymes and rippling alliterations, an astounding feat of virtuosity in rhetoric.

He stuck to Star’s story line but embroidered it. I listened with growing admiration, both for him as a poet and for good old Scar Gordon, the one-man army. I decided that I must be a purty goddam hot hero, so when he sat down, I stood up.

The girls had been more successful in getting me drunk than in getting me fed. Most of the food was strange and it was usually tasty. But a cold dish had been fetched in, little frog-like creatures in ice, served whole. You dipped them in a sauce and took them in two bites.

The gal in the jewels grabbed one, dipped it and put it up for me to bite. And it woke up.

This little fellow–call him “Elmer”–Elmer rolled his eyes and looked at me, just as I was about to bite him.

I suddenly wasn’t hungry and jerked my head back.

Miss jewelry Shop laughed heartily, dipped him again, and showed me how to do it. No more Elmer-

I didn’t eat for quite a while and drank more than too much. Every ime a bite was offered me I would see Elmers feet disappearing, and gulp, and have another drink.

That’s why I stood up.

Once up, there was dead silence. The music stopped because the musicians were waiting to see what o improvise as background to my poem.

I suddenly realized that I didn’t have anything to say.

Not anything. There wasn’t a prayer that I could adlib a poem of thanks, a graceful compliment to my

host–m Nevian. Hell, I couldn’t have done it in English.

Star’s eyes were on me. She looked gravely confident.

That did it. I didn’t risk Nevian; I couldn’t even remember how to ask my way to the men’s room. So I ave it to ’em, both barrels, in English. Vachel Lindsay’s “Congo.”

As much of it as I could remember, say about four pages. What I did give them was that compelling rhythm and rhyme scheme double-talking and faking on any fluffs and really slamming it on “beating on a table with the handle of a broom! Boom! Boom! Boomlay boom!” and the orchestra caught the spirit and we rattled the dishes.

The applause was wonderful and Miss Tiffany grabbed my ankle and kissed it.

So I gave them Mr. E. A. Foe’s “Bells” for dessert. Jocko kissed me on my left eye and slobbered on my shoulder.

Then Star stood up and explained, in scansion and rhyme, that in my own land, in my own language, among my own people, warriors and artists all, I was as famous a poet as I was a hero (Which was true. Zero equals zero), and that I had done them the honor of composing my greatest work, in the jewels of my native tongue, a fitting thanks to the Doral and house Doral for Hospitality of roof, of table, of bed–and that she would, in time, do her poor best to render my music into their language.

Between us we got the Oscar.

Then they brought in the piece de resistance, a carcass roasted whole and carried by four men. From the size and shape it might have been roast peasant under glass. But it was dead and it smelled wonderful and I ate a lot of it and sobered up. After the roast there were only eight or nine other things, soups and sherbets and similar shilly-shallying. The party got looser and people didn’t stay at their own tables. One of my girls fell asleep and spilled my wine cup and about then I realized that most of the crowd had gone.

Doral Letva, flanked by two girls, led me to my chambers and put me to bed. They dimmed the lights and withdrew while I was still trying to phrase a gallant good night in their language.

They came back, having shucked all jewelry and other encumbrances and posed at my bedside, the Three Graces. I had decided that the younger ones were mama’s daughters. The older girl was maybe eighteen, full ripe, and a picture of what mama must have been at that age; the younger one seemed five years younger, barely nubile, as pretty for her own age and quite self-conscious. She blushed and dropped her eyes when I looked at her. But her sister stared back with sultry eyes, boldly provocative.

Their mother, an arm around each waist, explained simply but in rhyme that I had honored their roof and their table–and now their bed. What was a Hero’s pleasure? One? Or two? Or all three?

I’m chicken. We know that. If it hadn’t been that little sister was about the size of the little brown sisters who had scared me in the past, maybe I could have shown aplomb.

But, hell, those doors didn’t close. Just arches. And Jocko me bucko might wake up anytime; I didn’t know where he was. I won’t say I’ve never bedded a married woman nor a man’s daughter in his own house–but I’ve followed American cover-up conventions in such matters. This flat-footed proposition scared me worse than the Horned Goats. I mean “Ghosts.”

I struggled to put my decision in poetic language.

I didn’t manage it but I put over the idea of negative,

The little girl started to bawl and fled. Her sister looked daggers, snorted. “Hero!” and went after her. Mama just looked at me and left.

She came back in about two minutes. She spoke very formally, obviously exercising great control, and prayed to know if any woman in this house had met with the Hero’s favor? Her name, please? Or could I describe her? Or would I have them paraded so that I might point her out?

I did my best to explain that, were a choice to be made, she herself would be my choice–but that I was tired and wished to sleep alone.

Letva blinked back tears, wished me a hero’s rest, and left a second time, even faster. For an instant I thought she was going to slap me.

Five seconds later I got up and tried to catch her. But she was gone, the gallery was dark.

I fell asleep and dreamt about the Cold Water Gang. They were even uglier than Rufo had suggested and they were trying to make me eat big gold nuggets all with the eyes of Elmer.

Chapter 9

Rufo shook me awake. “Boss! Get up! Right now!”

I buried my head in the covers. “Go way!” My mouth tasted of spoiled cabbage, my head buzzed, and my ears were on crooked.

“Right now! She says to.”

I got up. Rufo was dressed in our Merry Men clothes and wearing sword, so I dressed the same way and buckled on mine. My valettes were not in sight, nor my borrowed finery. I stumbled after Rufo into the great dining hall. There was Star, dressed to travel, and looking grim. The fancy furnishings of the night before were gone; it was as bleak as an abandoned barn. A bare table was all, and on it a joint of meat, cold in congealed grease and a knife beside it.

I looked at it without relish. “What’s that?”

“Your breakfast, if you want it. But I shall not stay under this roof and eat cold shoulder.” It was a tone, a manner, I had never heard from her.

Rufo touched my sleeve. “Boss. Let’s get out of here. Now.”

So we did. Not a soul was in sight, indoors or out, not even children or dogs. But three dashing steeds were waiting. Those eight-legged tandem ponies, I mean, the horse version of a dachshund, saddled and ready to go. The saddle rigs were complex; each pair of legs had a leather yoke over it and the load was distributed by poles flexing laterally, one on each side, and mounted on this was a chair with a back, a padded seat, and arm rests. A tiller rope ran to each armrest.

A lever on the left was both brake and accelerator and I hate to say how suggestions were conveyed to the beast. However, the “horses” didn’t seem to mind.

They weren’t horses. Their heads were slightly equine but they had pads rather than hoofs and were omnivores, not hayburners. But you grow to like these beasties. Mine was black with white
points–beautiful. I named her “Ars Longa.” She had soulful eyes.

Rufo lashed my bow and quiver to a baggage rack behind my chair and showed me how to get aboard, adjust my seat belt, and get comfortable with feet on foot rests rather than stirrups and my back supported–as comfy as first-class seats in an airliner. We took off fast and hit a steady pace of ten miles an hour, single-footing (the only gait longhorses have) but smoothed by that eight-point suspension so that it was like a car on a gravel road.

Star rode ahead, she hadn’t spoken another word. I tried to speak to her but Rufo touched my arm. “Boss, don’t,” he said quietly. “When She is like this, all you can do is wait.”

Once we were underway, Rufo and I knee to knee and Star out of earshot ahead, I said “Rufo, what in the world happened?”

He frowned. “We’ll never know. She and the Doral had a row, that’s clear. But best we pretend it never happened.”

He shut up and so did I. Had Jocko been obnoxious to Star? Drunk he certainly was and amorous he might have been. But I couldn’t visualize Star not being able to handle a man so as to avoid rape without hurting his feelings.

That led to further grim thoughts. If the older sister had come in alone–If Miss Tiffany hadn’t passed out–If my valette with the fiery hair had showed up to undress me as I had understood she would–Oh hell!

Presently Rufo eased his seat belt, lowered his back rest and raised his foot rests to reclining position, covered his face with a kerchief and started to snore. After a while I did the same; it had been a short night, no breakfast, and I had a king-size hangover. My “horse” didn’t need any help; the two held position on Star’s mount.

When I woke I felt better, aside from hunger and thirst. Rufo was still sleeping; Star’s steed was still fifty paces ahead. The countryside was still lush, and ahead perhaps a half-mile was a house–not a lordly manor out a farmhouse. I could see a well sweep and thought of moss-covered buckets, cool and wet and reeking of typhoid–well, I had had my booster shots in Heidelberg; I wanted a drink. Water, I mean. Better yet, beer–they made fine beer hereabouts.

Rufo yawned, put away his kerchief, and raised his seat. “Must have dozed off,” he said with a silly grin.

“Rufo, you see that house?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“Lunch, that’s what. I’ve gone far enough on an empty stomach. And I’m so thirsty that I could squeeze a stone and drink the whey from it.”

“Then best you do so.”

“Huh?”

“Milord, I’m sorry–I’m thirsty, too–but we aren’t stopping there. She wouldn’t like it.”

“She wouldn’t, eh? Rufo, let me set you straight. Just because milady Star is in a pet is no reason for me to ride all day with no food or water. You do as you see fit; I’m stopping for lunch. Uh, do you have any money on you? Local money?”

He shook his head. “You don’t do it that way, not here. Boss. Wait another hour. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because we are still on the Doral’s land, that’s why. I don’t know that he has sent word ahead to have us shot on sight; Jock is a goodhearted old blackguard. But I would rather be wearing full armor; a flight of arrows wouldn’t surprise me. Or a drop net just as we turned in among those trees.”

“You really think so?”

“Depends on how angry he is. I mind once, when a man really offended him, the Doral had this poor rube stripped down and tied by his family jewels and placed–no, I can’t tell that one.” Rufo gulped and looked sick. “Big night last night. I’m not myself. Better we speak of pleasant things. You mentioned squeezing whey from a rock. No doubt you were thinking of the Strong Muldoon?”

“Damn it, don’t change the subject!” My head was throbbing. “I won’t ride under those trees and the man who lets fly a shaft at me had better check his own skin for punctures. I’m thirsty.”

“Boss, Rufo pleaded. “She will neither eat nor drink on the Doral’s land–even if they begged her to. And She’s right. You don’t know the customs. Here one accepts what is freely given . . . but even a child is too proud to touch anything begrudged. Five miles more. Can’t the hero who killed Igli before breakfast hold out another five miles?”

“Well . . . all right, all right! But this is a crazy sort of country, you must admit. Utterly insane.” “Mmmm . . .” he answered. “Have you ever been in Washington, D.C.?” “Well–” I grinned wryly. “Touche! And I forgot that this is your native land. No offense intended.”

“Oh, but it’s not. What made you think so?”

“Why–” I tried to think. Neither Rufo nor Star had said so, but–“You know the customs, you speak the language like a native.”
“Milord Oscar, I’ve forgotten how many languages I speak. When I hear one of them, I speak it.”

“Well, you’re not an American. Nor a Frenchman, I think.”

He grinned merrily. “I could show you birth certificates from both countries–or could until we lost our baggage. But, no, I’m not from Earth.”

“Then where are you from?”

Rufo hesitated. “Best you get your facts from Her.”

“Tripe! I’ve got both feet hobbled and a sack over my head. This is ridiculous.”

“Boss,” he said earnestly, “She will answer any question you ask. But you must ask them.”

“I certainly shall!”

“So let’s speak of other matters. You mentioned the Strong Muldoon–”

“You mentioned him.”

“Well, perhaps I did. I never met Muldoon myself, though I’ve been in that part of Ireland. A fine country and the only really logical people on Earth. Facts won’t sway them in the face of higher truth. An admirable people. I heard of Muldoon from one of my uncles, a truthful man who for many years was a ghostwriter of political speeches. But at this time, due to a mischance while writing speeches for rival candidates, he was enjoying a vacation as a free-lance correspondent for an American syndicate specializing in Sunday feature stories. He heard of the Strong Muldoon and tracked him down, taking train from Dublin, then a local bus, and at last Shank’s Mares. He encountered a man plowing a field with a one-horse plow . . . but this man was shoving the plow ahead of himself without benefit of horse, turning a neat eight-inch furrow. ‘Aha!’ said my uncle and called out, ‘Mr. Muldoon!’

“The farmer stopped and called back, ‘Bless you for the mistake, friend!’–picked up the plow in one hand, pointed with it and said, ‘You’ll be finding Muldoon that way. Strong, he is.’

“So my uncle thanked him and went on until he found another man setting out fence posts by shoving them into the ground with his bare hand . . . and in stony soil, it’s true. So again my uncle hailed him as Muldoon.

“The man was so startled he dropped the ten or dozen six-inch posts he had tucked under the other arm. ‘Get along with your blarney, now!’ he called back. You must know that Muldoon lives farther on down this very same road. He’s strong.’

“The next local my uncle saw was building a stone fence. Dry-stone work it was and very neat. This man was trimming the rock without hammer or trowel, splitting them with the edge of his hand and doing the fine trim by pinching off bits with his fingers. So again my uncle addressed a man by that glorious name.

“The man started to speak but his throat was dry from all that stone dust; his voice failed him. So he grabbed up a large rock, squeezed it the way you squeezed Igli–forced water out of it as if it had been a goatskin, drank. Then he said, ‘Not me, my friend. He’s strong, as everyone knows. Why, many is the time that I have seen him insert his little finger–‘ ”

My mind was distracted from this string of lies by a wench pitching hay just across the ditch from the road. She had remarkable pectoral muscles and a lava-lava just suited her. She saw me eyeing her and gave me the eye right back, with a wiggle tossed in.

“You were saying?” I asked.

“Eh? ‘–just to the first joint . . . and hold himself at arm’s length for hours!”

“Rufo,” I said, “I don’t believe it could have been more than a few minutes. Strain on the tissues, and so forth.”

“Boss,” he answered in a hurt tone, “I could take you to the very spot where the Mighty Dugan used to perform this stunt.”

“You said his name was Muldoon.”

“He was a Dugan on his mother’s side, very proud of her he was. You’ll be pleased to know, milord, that the boundary of the Doral’s land is now in sight. Lunch in minutes only.”

“I can use it. With a gallon of anything, even water.”

“Passed by acclamation. Truthfully, milord, I’m not at my best today. I need food and drink and a long siesta before the fighting starts, or I’ll yawn when I should parry. Too large a night.”

“I didn’t see you at the banquet.”

“I was there in spirit. In the kitchen the food is hotter, the choice is better, and the company less formal. But I had no intention of making a night of it. Early to bed is my motto. Moderation in all things. Epictetus. But the pastry cook–Well, she reminds me of another girl I once knew, my partner in a legitimate business, smuggling. But her motto was that anything worth doing at all is worth overdoing–and she did. She smuggled on top of smuggling, a sideline of her own unmentioned to me and not taken into account–for I was listing every item with the customs officers, a copy with the bribe, so that they would know I was honest.

“But a girl can’t walk through the gates fat as a stuffed goose and walk back through them twenty minutes later skinny as the figure one–not that she was, just a manner of speaking–without causing
thoughtful glances. If it hadn’t been for the strange thing the dog did in the night, the busies would have nabbed us.”

“What was the strange thing the dog did in the night?”

“Just what I was doing last night. The noise woke us and we were out over the roof and free, but with nothing to show for six months’ hard work but skinned knees. But that pastry cook–You saw her, milord. Brown hair, blue eyes, a widow’s peak and the rest remarkably like Sophia Loren.”

“I have a vague memory of someone like that.”

“Then you didn’t see her, there is nothing vague about Nalia. As may be, I had intended to lead the life sanitary last night, knowing that there would be bloodshed today. You know:

‘Once at night and outen the light;

‘Once in the morning, a new day a-borning’

“–as the Scholar advised. But I hadn’t reckoned with Nalia. So here I am with no sleep and no breakfast and if I’m dead before nightfall in a pool of my own blood, it’ll be partly Nalia’s doing.”

“I’ll shave your corpse, Rufo; that’s a promise.” We had passed the marker into the next county but Star didn’t slow down. “Bye the bye, where did you learn the undertakers trade?”

“The what? Oh! That was a far place indeed. The top of that rise, behind those trees, is a house and that’s where we’ll be having lunch. Nice people.”

“Good!” The thought of lunch was a bright spot as I was again regretting my Boy Scout behavior of the night before. “Rufo, you had it all wrong about the strange thing the dog did in the night.”

“Milord?”

“The dog did nothing in the night, that was the strange thing.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t sound that way,” Rufo said doubtfully.

“Another dog, another far place. Sorry. What I started to say was: A funny thing happened to me on the way to bed last night–and I did lead the life sanitary.”

“Indeed, milord?”

“In deed, if not in thought.” I needed to tell somebody and Rufo was the sort of scoundrel I could trust. I told him the Story of the Three Bares.

“I should have risked it,” I concluded. “And, swelp me, I would have, if that lad had been put to bed–alone–when she should have been. Or I think I would have, regardless of White Shotgun or
jumping out windows. Rufo, why do the prettiest gals always have fathers or husbands? But I tell you the truth, there they were–the Big Bare, the Middle-Sized Bare, and the Littlest Bare, close enough to touch and all of them anxious to keep my bed warm–and I didn’t do a damn thing! Go ahead and laugh. I deserve it.”

He didn’t laugh. I turned to look at him and his expression was piteous. “Milord! Oscar my comrade! Tell me it isn’t true!”

“It is true,” I said huffily. “And I regretted it at once. Too late. And you complained about your night!”

“Oh, my Cod!” He threw his mount into high gear and took off. Ars Longa looked back inquiringly over her shoulder, then continued on.

Rufo caught up with Star; they stopped, short of the house where lunch was to be expected. They waited and I joined them. Star was wearing no expression; Rufo looked unbearably embarrassed.

Star said, “Rufo, go beg lunch for us. Fetch it here. I would speak with milord alone.”

“Yes, milady!” He got out fast.

Star said to me, still with no expression, “Milord Hero, is this true? What your groom reports to me?”

“I don’t know what he reported.”

“It concerned your failure–your alleged failure–last night.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘failure.’ If you want to know what I did after the banquet . . . I slept alone. Period.”

She sighed but her expression did not change. “I wanted to hear it from your lips. To be just.” Then her expression did change and I have never seen such anger. In a low almost passionless voice she began chewing me out:

“You hero. You incredible butter-brained dolt. Clumsy, bumbling, loutish, pimple-peeked, underdone, over-muscled, idiotic–”

“Stop it!”

“Quiet, I am not finished with you. Insulting three innocent ladies offending a staunch–”

“SHUT UP!!!”

The blast blew her hair back. I started in before she could rev up again. “Don’t ever again speak to me that way. Star. Never.”

“But–”

“Hold your tongue, you bad-tempered brat! You have not earned the right to speak to me that way. Nor will any girl ever earn the right. You will always–always!–address me politely and with respect. One more word of your nasty rudeness and I’ll spank you until the tears fly.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Get your hand away from that sword or I’ll take it away from you, down your pants right here on the road, and spank you with it. Till your arse is red and you beg for mercy. Star, I do not fight females–but I do punish naughty children. Ladies I treat as ladies. Spoiled brats I treat as spoiled brats. Star, you could be the Queen of England and the Galactic Overlord all rolled into one–but ONE MORE WORD out of line from you, and down come your tights and you won’t be able to sit for a week. Understand e?”

At last she said in a small voice, “I understand, milord.”

“And besides that. I’m resigning from the hero business. I won’t listen to such talk twice, I won’t work for a person who treats me that way even once.” I sighed, realizing that I had just lost my corporal’s stripes again. But I always felt easier and freer without them.

“Yes, milord.” I could barely hear her. It occurred to me that it was a long way back to Nice. But it didn’t worry me.

“All right, let’s forget it.”

“Yes, milord.” She added quietly, “But may I explain why I spoke as I did?”

“No.”

“Yes, milord.”

A long silent time later Rufo returned. He stopped out of earshot, I motioned him to join us.

We ate silently and I didn’t eat much but the beer was good. Rufo tried once to make chitchat with an impossibility about another of his uncles. It couldn’t have fallen flatter inBoston .

After lunch Star turned her mount–those “horses” have a small turning circle for their wheelbase but t’s easier to bring them full circle in a tight place by leading them. Rufo said, “Milady?”

She said impassively, “I am returning to the Doral.”

“Milady! Please not!”

“Dear Rufo,” she said warmly but sadly. “You can wait up at that house–and if I’m not back in three days, you are free.” She looked at me, looked away. “I hope that milord Oscar will see fit to escort me. But I do not ask it. I have not the right.” She started off.

I was slow in getting Ars Longa turned; I didn’t have the hang of it. Star was a good many bricks down the road; I started after her.

Rufo waited until I was turned, biting his nails, then suddenly climbed aboard and caught up with me. We rode knee to knee, a careful fifty paces behind Star, Finally he said, “This is suicide. You know that, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t know it.”

“Well, it is.”

I said, “Is that why you are not bothering to say ‘sir’?”

“Milord?” He laughed shortly and said, “I guess it is. No point in that nonsense when you are going to die soon.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Huh?”

” ‘Huh, milord,’ if you please. Just for practice. But from now on, even if we last only thirty minutes. Because I am running the show now–and not just as her stooge. I don’t want any doubt in your mind as to who is boss once the fighting starts. Otherwise turn around and I’ll give your mount a slap on the rump to get you moving. Hear me?”

“Yes, milord Oscar.” He added thoughtfully, “I knew you were boss as soon as I got back. But I don’t see how you did it. Milord, I have never seen Her meek before. May one ask?”

“One may not. But you have my permission to ask her. If you think it is safe. Now tell me about this ‘suicide’ matter–and don’t say she doesn’t want you to give me advice. From here on you’ll give advice any time I ask–and keep your lip buttoned if I don’t.”

“Yes, milord. All right, the suicide prospects. No way to figure the odds. It depends on how angry the Doral is. But it won’t be a fight, can’t be. Either we get clobbered the instant we poke our noses in . . . or we are safe until we leave his land again, even if he tells us to turn around and ride away.” Rufo looked very thoughtful. “Milord, if you want a blind guess–Well, I figure you’ve insulted the Doral the worst he has ever been hurt in the course of a long and touchy life. So it’s about ninety to ten that, two shakes after we turn off the road, we are all going to be sprouting more arrows than Saint Sebastian.”

“Star, too? She hasn’t done anything. Nor have you.” (Nor I, either, I added to myself. What a country!)

Rufo sighed. “Milord, each world has its own ways. Jock won’t want to hurt Her. He likes Her. He’s terribly fond of Her. You could say that he loves Her. But if he kills you, he has got to loll Her. Anything else would be inhumane by his standards–and he’s a very moral bloke; he’s noted for it. And kill me, too, of course, but I don’t count. He must kill Her even though it will start a chain of events that will wipe him out just as dead once the news gets out. The question is: Does he have to kill you? I figure be has to, knowing these people. Sorry . . . milord.”

I mulled it over. “Then why are you here, Rufo?”

“Milord?”

“You can cut the ‘sirs’ down to one an hour. Why are you here? If your estimate is correct, your one word and one bow can’t affect the outcome. She gave you a fair chance to chicken out. So what is it? Pride? Or are you in love with her?”

“Oh, my God, no!”

Again I saw Rufo really shocked. “Excuse me,” he went on. “You caught me with my guard down.” He thought about it. “Two reasons, I suppose. The first is that if Jock allows us to parley–well. She is quite a talker. In the second place”–he glanced at me–“I’m superstitious, I admit it. You’re a man with luck. I’ve seen it. So I want to be close to you even when reason tells me to run. You could fall in a cesspool and–”

“Nonsense. You should hear my hard-luck story.”

“Maybe in the past. But I’m betting the dice as they roll.” He shut up.

A bit later I said, “You stay here.” I speeded up and joined Star. “Here are the plans,” I told her.

“When we get there, you stay out on the road with Rufo. I’m going in alone.”

She gasped. “Oh, milord! No!”

“Yes.”

“But–”

“Star, do you want me back? As your champion?”

“With all my heart!”

“All right. Then do it my way.”

She waited before answering. “Oscar–”

“Yes, Star.”

“I will do as you say. But will you let me explain before you decide what you will say?”

“Go on.”

“In this world, the place for a lady to ride is by her champion. And that is where I would want to be, my Hero, when in peril. Especially when in peril. But I’m not pleading for sentiment, nor for empty form. Knowing what I now know I can prophesy with certainty that, if you go in first, you will die at once, and I will die–and Rufo–as soon as they can chase us down. That will be quickly, our mounts are tired. On the other hand, if I go in alone–”

“No.”

“Please, milord. I was not proposing, it. If I were to go in alone, I would be almost as likely to die at once as you would be. Or perhaps, instead of feeding me to the pigs, be would simply have me feed the pigs and be a plaything of the pig boys–a fate merciful rather than cold justice in view of my utter degradation in returning without you. But the Doral is fond of me and I think he might let me live . . . as a pig girl and no better than pigs. This I would risk if necessary and wait my chance to escape, for I cannot
afford pride; I have no pride, only necessity.” Her voice was husky with tears.

“Star, Star!”

“My darling!”

“Huh? You said–”

“May I say it? We may not have much time. My Hero . . . my darling.” She reached out blindly, I took her hand; she leaned toward me and pressed it to her breast.

Then she straightened up but kept my hand. “I’m all right now. I am a woman when I least expect it. No, my darling Hero, there is only one way for us to go in and that is side by side, proudly. It is not only safest, it is the only way I would wish it–could I afford pride. I can afford anything else. I could buy you theEiffelTower for a trinket, and replace it when you broke it. But not pride.”

“Why is it safest?”

“Because he may–I say ‘may’–let us parley. If I can get in ten words, he’ll grant a hundred. Then a thousand. I may be able to heal his hurt.”

“All right. But–Star, what did I do to hurt him? I didn’t! I went to a lot of trouble not to hurt him.”

She was silent a while, then–“You are an American.”

“What’s that got to do with it? Jock doesn’t know it.”

“It has, perhaps, everything to do with it. No, America is at most a name to the Doral for, although he has studied the Universes, he has never traveled. But–You will not be angry with me again?”

“Uh . . . let’s call a King’s-X on that. Say anything you need to say but explain things. Just don’t chew me out. Oh, hell, chew me out if you like–this once. Just don’t let it be a habit . . . my darling.”

She squeezed my hand. “Never will I again! The error lay in my not realizing that you are American. I don’t know America , not the way Rufo does. If Rufo had been present–But he wasn’t; he was wenching in the kitchen. I suppose I assumed, when you were offered table and root and bed, that you would behave as a Frenchman would. I never dreamed that you would refuse it. Had I known, I could have spun a thousand excuses for you. An oath taken. A holy day in your religion. Jock would have been disappointed but not hurt; he is a man of honor.”

“But–Damn it, I still don’t see why he wants to shoot me for not doing something I would expect, back home, that he might snoot me for doing. In this country, is a plan forced to accept any proposition a gal makes? And why did she run and complain? Why didn’t she keep it secret? Hell, she didn’t even try. She dragged in her daughters.”

“But, darling, it was never a secret. He asked you publicly and publicly you accepted. How would you feel if your bride, on your wedding night, kicked you out of the bedroom? ‘Table, and roof, and bed.’ You accepted.”

” ‘Bed.’ Star, inAmerica beds are multiple-purpose furniture. Sometimes we sleep in them. Just sleep. I didn’t dig it.”

“I know now. You didn’t know the idiom. My fault. But do you now see why he was completely–and publicly–humiliated?”

“Well, yes, but he brought it on himself. He asked me in public. It would have been worse if I had said No then.”

“Not at all. You didn’t have to accept. You could have refused graciously. Perhaps the most graceful way, even though it be a white lie, is for the hero to protest his tragic inability–temporary or permanent–from wounds received in the very battle that proved him a hero.”

“I’ll remember that. But I still don’t see why he was so astoundingly generous in the first place.”

She turned and looked at me. “My darling, is it all right for me to say that you have astounded me every time I have talked with you? And I had thought I had passed beyond all surprises, years ago.”

“It’s mutual. You always astound me. However, I like it–except one time.”

“My lord Hero, how often do you think a simple country squire has a chance to gain for his family a Hero’s son, and raise it as his own? Can you not feel his gall-bitter disappointment at what you snatched from him after he thought you had promised this boon? His shame? His wrath?”

I considered it. “Well, I’ll be dogged. It happens inAmerica , too. But they don’t boast about it.”

“Other countries, other customs. At the very least, he had thought that he had the honor of a hero treating him as a brother. And with luck he expected the get of a hero for house Doral.”

“Wait a minute! Is that why he sent me three? To improve the odds?”

“Oscar, he would eagerly have sent you thirty . . . if you had hinted that you felt heroic enough to attempt it. As it was, he sent his chief wife and his two favorite daughters.” She hesitated. “What I still don’t understand–” She stopped and asked me a blunt question.

“Hell, no!” I protested, blushing. “Not since I was fifteen. But one thing that put me off was that mere child. She’s one. I think.”

Star shrugged. “She may be. But she is not a child; in Nevia she is a woman. And even if she is unbroached as yet, I’ll wager she’s a mother in another twelvemonth. But if you were loath to tap her, why didn’t you shoo her out and take her older sister? That quaint hasn’t been virgin since she’s had breasts, to my certain knowledge–and I hear that Muri is ‘some dish,’ if that is the American idiom.”

I muttered. I had been thinking the same thing. But I didn’t want to discuss it with Star.

She said, “Pardonne-moi, mon cher? Tu as dit?”

“I said I had given up sex crimes for Lent!”

She looked puzzled. “But Lent is over, even on Earth. And it is not, here, at all.”

“Sorry.”

“Still I’m pleased that you didn’t pick Muri over Letva; Muri would have been unbearably stuck-up with her mother after such a thing. But I do understand that you will repair this, if I can straighten it out?” She added, “It makes great difference in how I handle the diplomacies.”

(Star, Star–you are the one I want to bed!) “This is what you wish . . . my darling?”

“Oh, how much it would help!”

“Okay. You’re the doctor. One . . . three . . . thirty–I’ll die trying. But no little kids!” “No problem.

Let me think. If the Doral lets me get in just five words–” She fell silent. Her hand was pleasantly warm. I did some thinking, too. These strange customs had ramifications, some of which I had still shied away from. How was it, if Letva had immediately told her husband what a slob I was-

“Star? Where did you sleep last night?”

She looked around sharply. “Milord . . . is it permitted to ask you, please, to mind your own business?”

“I suppose so. But everybody seems to be minding mine.”

“I am sorry. But I am very much worried and my heaviest worries you do not know as yet. It was a fair question and deserves a fair answer. Hospitality balances, always, and honors flow both ways. I slept in the Doral’s bed. However, if it matters–and it may to you; I still do not understand Americans–I was wounded yesterday, it still bothered me. Jock is a sweet and gentle soul. We slept. Just slept.”

I tried to make it nonchalant. “Sorry about the wound. Does it hurt now?”

“Not at all. The dressing will fall off by tomorrow. However–Last night was not the first time I enjoyed table and roof and bed at house Doral. Jock and I are old friends, beloved friends–which is why I think I can risk that he may grant me a few seconds before killing me.”

“Well, I had figured out most of that.”

“Oscar, by your standards–the way you have been raised–I am a bitch.”

“Oh, never! A princess.”

“A bitch. But I am not of your country and I was reared by another code. By my standards, and they seem good to me, I am a moral woman. Now . . . am I still your darling’?”

“My darling!”

“My darling Hero. My champion. Lean close and kiss me. If we die, I would my mouth be warm with your lips. The entrance is just around this bend.”

“I know.”

A few moments later we rode, swords sheathed and bows unstrung, proudly into the target area.

Chapter 10

Three days later we rode out again.

This time breakfast was sumptuous. This time musicians lined our exit. This time the Doral rode with us.

This time Rufo reeled to his mount, each arm around a wench, a bottle in each hand, then, after busses from a dozen more, was lifted into his seat and belted in the reclining position. He fell asleep, snoring before we set out.

I was kissed good-bye more times than I could count and by some who had no reason to do it so thoroughly–for I was only an apprentice hero, still learning the trade.

It’s not a bad trade, despite long hours, occupational hazards, and utter lack of security; it has fringe benefits, with many openings and rapid advancement for a man with push and willingness to learn. The Doral seemed well pleased with me.

At breakfast he had sung my prowess up to date in a thousand intricate lines. But I was sober and did not let his praises impress me with my own greatness; I knew better. Obviously a little bird had reported to him regularly–but that bird was a liar. John Henry the Steel-Drivin’ Man couldn’t have done what Jocko’s ode said I did.

But I took it with my heroic features noble and impassive, then I stood up and gave them “Casey at the Bat,” putting heart and soul into “Mighty Casey has struck OUT!”

Star gave it a free interpretation. I had (so she sang) praised the ladies of Doral, the ideas being ones associated with Madame Pompadour, Nell Gwyn, Theodora, Ninon de l’Enclos, and Rangy Lil. She didn’t name those famous ladies; instead she was specific, in Nevian eulogy that would have startled Francois Villon.

So I had to come up with an encore. I gave them “Relic’s daughter,” then “Jabberwocky,” with gestures.

Star had interpreted me in spirit; she had said what I would have said had I been capable of extemporizing poetry. Late on the second day I had chanced on Star in the steam room of the manor’s baths. For an hour we lay wrapped in sheets on adjacent slabs, sweating it out and restoring the tissues. Presently I blurted out to her how surprised–and delighted–I was. I did it sheepishly but Star was one to whom I dared bare my soul.

She had listened gravely. When I ran down, she said quietly, “My Hero, as you know, I do not know America. But from what Rufo tells me your culture is unique, among all the Universes.”

“Well, I realize that the USA is not sophisticated in such things, not the way France is.”

” ‘France!’ ” She shrugged, beautifully. ” ‘Latins are lousy lovers.’ I heard that somewhere, I testify that it is true. Oscar, so far as I know, your culture is the only semicivilized one in which love is not recognized as the highest art and given the serious study it deserves.”

“You mean the way they treat it here. Whew! ‘Much too good for the common people!’ ”

“No, I do not mean the way it is treated here.” She spoke in English. “Much as I love our friends here, this is a barbarous culture and their arts are barbaric. Oh, good art of its sort, very good; their approach is honest. But–if we live through this, after our troubles are over–I want you to travel among the Universes. You’ll see what I mean.” She got up, folding her sheet into a toga. I’m glad you are pleased, my Hero. I’m proud of you.”

I lay there a while longer, thinking about what she had said. The “highest art”–and back home we didn’t even study it, much less make any attempt to teach it. Ballet takes years and years. Nor do they hire you to sing at the Met just because you have a loud voice.

Why should “love” be classed as an “instinct”?

Certainly the appetite for sex is an instinct–but did another appetite make every glutton a gourmet, every fry cook a Cordon Bleu? Hell, you had to learn even to be a fry cook.

I walked out of the steam room whistling “The Best Things in Life Are Free”–then chopped it off in sudden sorrow for all my poor, unhappy compatriots cheated of their birthright by the most mammoth hoax in history.

A mile out the Doral bade us good-bye, embracing me, kissing Star and mussing her hair; then he and his escort drew swords and remained at salute until we passed over the next rise. Star and I rode knee to knee while Rufo snored behind us.

I looked at her and her mouth twitched. She caught my eye and said demurely, “Good morning, milord.”

“Good morning, milady. You slept well?”

“Very well, thank you, milord. And you?”

“The same, thank you.”

“So? ‘What was the strange thing the dog did in the night?’ ”

” ‘The dog did nothing in the night, that was the strange thing,’ ” I answered with a straight face. “Really? So gay a dog? Then who was that knight I last saw with a lady?” ”

‘Twasn’t night, ’twas brillig.”

“And your vorpal blade went snicker-snack! My beamish boy!”

“Don’t try to pin your jabberwocking on me, you frolicsome wench,” I said severely. “I’ve got friends, I have–I can prove an alibi. Besides, ‘my strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.’ ”

“And the line before that one. Yes, I know; your friends told me about it, milord.” Suddenly she grinned and slapped me on the thigh and started bellowing the chorus of “Reilly’s Daughter.” Vita Brevis norted; Ars Longa pricked up her ears and looked around reprovingly.

“Stop it,” I said. “You’re shocking the horses.”

“They aren’t horses and you can’t shock them. Have you seen how they do it, milord? In spite of all those legs? First–”

“Hold your tongue! Ars Longa is a lady, even if you aren’t.”

“I warned you I was a bitch. First she sidles up–”

“I’ve seen it. Muri thought it would amuse me. Instead it gave me an inferiority complex that lasted all afternoon.”

“I venture to disbelieve that it was all afternoon, milord Hero. Let’s sing about Reilly then. You lead, I’ll harmonize.”

“Well–Not too loud, we’ll wake Rufo.”

“Not him, he’s embalmed.”

“Then you’ll wake me, which is worse. Star darling, when and where was Rufo an undertaker? And ow did he get from that into this business? Did they run him out of town?”

She looked puzzled. “Undertaker? Rufo? Not Rufo.”

“He was most circumstantial.”

“So? Milord, Rufo has many faults. But telling the truth is not one of them. Moreover, our people do ot have undertakers.”

“You don’t? Then what do you do with leftover carcasses? Can’t leave them cluttering the parlor. Untidy.”

“I think so, too, but our people do just that: keep them in the parlor. For a few years at least. An overly sentimental custom but we are a sentimental people. Even so, it can be overdone. One of my great aunts kept all her former husbands in her bedchamber–a dreadful clutter and boring, too, because she talked about them, repeating herself and exaggerating. I quit going to see her.”

“Well. Did she dust them?”

“Oh, yes. She was a fussy housekeeper.”

“Uh–How many were there?”

“Seven or eight, I never counted.”

“I see. Star? Is there black-widow blood in your family?”

“What? Oh! But, darling, there is black-widow blood in every woman.” She dimpled, reached over and patted my knee. “But Auntie didn’t kill them. Believe me, my Hero, the women in my family are much too fond of men to waste them. No, Auntie just hated to let them go. I think that is foolish. Look forward, not back.”

” ‘And let the dead past bury its dead.’ Look, if your people keep dead homes around the house, you must have undertakers. Embalmers at least. Or doesn’t the air get thick?”

“Embalming? Oh, no! Just place a stasis on them once you’re sure they are dead. Or dying. Any schoolboy can do that.” She added, “Perhaps I wronged Rufo. He has spent much time on your
Earth–he likes the place, it fascinates him–and he may have tried undertaking. But it seems to me an occupation too honest and straightforward to attract him.”

“You never did tell me what your people eventually do with a cadaver.”

“Not bury it. That would shock them silly.” Star shivered. “Even myself and I’ve traveled the

Universes, learned to be indifferent to almost any custom.”

“But what?”

“Much what you did to Igli. Apply a geometrical option and get rid of it.”

“Oh. Star, where did Igli go?”

“I couldn’t guess, milord. I had no chance to calculate it. Perhaps the ones who made him know. But I hink they were even more taken by surprise than I was.”

“I guess I’m dense. Star. You call it geometry; Jocko referred to me as a ‘mathematician.’ But I did what was forced on me by circumstances; I didn’t understand it.”

“Forced on Igli, you should say, milord Hero. What happens when you place an insupportable strain on a mass, such that it cannot remain where it is? While leaving it nowhere to go? This is a schoolboy problem in metaphysical geometry and the eldest proto-paradox, the one about the irresistible force and the immovable body. The mass implodes. It is squeezed out of its own world into some other. This is often the way the people of a universe discover the Universes–but usually as disastrously as you forced it on Igli; it may take millennia before they control it. It may hover around the fringes as ‘magic’ for a long time, sometimes working, sometimes failing, sometimes backfiring on the magician.”

“And you call this ‘mathematics’?”

“How else?”

“I’d call it magic.”

“Yes, surely. As I told Jocko, you have a natural genius. You could be a great warlock.”

I shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t believe in magic.”

“Nor do I,” she answered, “the way you put it. I believe in what is.”

“That’s what I mean, Star. I don’t believe in hocus-pocus. What happened to Igli–I mean, ‘what ppeared to happen to Igli’–could not have happened because it would violate the law of conservation of mass-energy. There must be some other explanation.”

She was politely silent.

So I brought to bear the sturdy common sense of ignorance and prejudice. “Look, Star, I’m not going to believe the impossible simply because I was there. A natural law is a natural law. You have to admit that.”

We rode a few rods before she answered, “May it please milord Hero, the world is not what we wish it to be. It is what it is. No, I have over-assumed. Perhaps it is indeed what we wish it to be.

Either way, it is what it is. Le voila! Behold it, self-demonstrating. Das Ding an sich. Bite it. It is. Ai-je raison? Do I speak truly?”

“That’s what I was saying! The universe is what it is and can’t be changed by jiggery-pokery. It works by exact rules, like a machine.” (I hesitated, remembering a car we had had that was a hypochondriac. It would “fall sick,” then “get well” as soon as a mechanic tried to touch it.) I went on firmly, “Natural law
never takes a holiday. The invariability of natural law is the cornerstone of science.”

“So it is.”

“Well?” I demanded.

“So much the worse for science.”

“But–” I shut up and rode in huffy silence.

Presently a slender hand touched my forearm, caressed it. “Such a strong sword arm,” she said softly.

“Milord Hero, may I explain?”

“Talk ahead,” I said. “If you can sell me, you can convert the Pope to Mormonism. I’m stubborn.”

“Would I have picked you out of hundreds of billions to be my champion were you not?”

” ‘Hundreds of billions?’ You mean millions, don’t you?”

“Hear me, milord. Indulge me. Let us be Socratic. I’ll frame the trick questions and you make the tupid answers–and we’ll learn who shaved the barber. Then it will be your turn and I’ll be the silly stooge. Okay?”

“All right, put a nickel in.”

“Very well. Question: Are the customs at house Doral the customs you used at home?”

“What? You know they aren’t. I’ve never been so flabbergasted since the time the preacher’s daughter took me up into the steeple to show me the Holy Ghost.” I chuckled sheepishly. “I’d be blushing yet but I’ve burned out my fuses.”

“Yet the basic difference between Nevian customs and yours lies in only one postulate. Milord, there axe worlds in which males kill females as soon as eggs are laid–and others in which females eat males even as they are being fructified–like that black widow you made cousin to me.”

“I didn’t mean that, Star.”

“I was not offended, my love. An insult is like a drink; it affects one only if accepted. And pride is too heavy baggage for my journey; I have none. Oscar, would you find such worlds stranger than this one?”

“You’re talking about spiders or some such. Not people.”

“I speak of people, the dominant race of each its world. Highly civilized.”

“Ugh!”

“You will not say ‘ugh’ when you see them. They are so different from us that their home life cannot atter to us. Contrariwise, this planet is very like your Earth–yet your customs would shock old Jocko out of song. Darling, your world has a custom unique in the Universes. That is, the Twenty Universes known to me, out of thousands or millions or googols of universes. In the known Twenty Universes only Earth has this astounding custom.”

“Do you mean “War”?”

“Oh, no! Most worlds have warfare. This planet Nevia is one of the few where lolling is retail, rather than wholesale. Here there be Heroes, killing is done with passion. This is a world of love and slaughter, both with gay abandon. No, I mean something much more shocking. Can you guess?”

“Uh . . . television commercials?”

“Close in spirit, but wide of the mark. You have an expression ‘the oldest profession.’ Here–and in all ther known worlds–it isn’t even the youngest. Nobody has heard of it and wouldn’t believe it if he did. We few who visit Earth don’t talk about it. Not that it would matter; most people don’t believe travelers’ tales.”

“Star, are you telling me that there is no prostitution elsewhere in the Universe?”

“The Universes, my darling. None.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “that’s going to be a shock to my first sergeant. None at all?”

“I mean,” she said bluntly, “that whoring seems to have been invented by Earth people and no thers–and the idea would shock old Jocko into impotence. He’s a straitlaced moralist.”

“I’ll be damned! We must be a bunch of slobs.”

“I did not mean to offend, Oscar; I was reciting facts. But this oddity of Earth is not odd in its own context. Any commodity is certain to be sold–bought, sold, leased, rented, bartered, traded, discounted, price-stabilized, inflated, bootlegged, and legislated–and a woman’s ‘commodity’ as it was called on Earth in franker days is no exception. The only wonder is the wild notion of thinking of it as a commodity. Why, it so surprised me that once I even–Never mind. Anything can be made a commodity. Someday I
will show you cultures living in spaces, not on planets–nor on fundaments of any sort; not all universes have planets–cultures where the breath of life is sold like a kilo of butter in Provence. Other places so crowded that the privilege of staying alive is subject to tax–and delinquents are killed out of hand by the
Department of Eternal Revenue and neighbors not only do not interfere, they are pleased.”

“Good God! Why?”

“They solved death, milord, and most of them won’t emigrate despite endless roomier planets. But we were speaking of Earth. Not only is whoring unknown elsewhere, but its permutations are
unknown–dower, bridal price, alimony, separate maintenance, all the variations that color all Earth’s institutions–every custom related even remotely to the incredible notion that what all women have an endless supply of is nevertheless merchandise, to be hoarded and auctioned.”

Ars Longa gave a snort of disgust. No, I don’t think she understood. She understands some Nevian but Star spoke English; Nevian lacks the vocabulary.

“Even your secondary customs,” she went on, “are shaped by this unique institution. Clothing–you’ve noticed that there is no real difference here in how the two sexes dress. I’m in tights this morning and you are in shorts but had it been the other way around no one would have noticed.”

“The hell they wouldn’t! Your tights wouldn’t fit me.”

“They stretch. And body shyness, which is an aspect of sex-specialized clothing. Here nakedness is as unnoteworthy as on that pretty little island where I found you. All hairless peoples sometimes wear clothing and all peoples no matter how hirsute wear ornaments–but nakedness taboo is found only where flesh is merchandise to be packaged or displayed . . . that is to say, on Earth. It parallels ‘Don’t pinch the grapefruit’ and putting false bottoms in berry boxes. If something is never haggled over, there is no need to make a mystery of it.”

“So if we get rid of clothes we get rid of prostitution?”

“Heavens, no! You’ve got it backwards.” She frowned. “I don’t see how Earth could ever get rid of whoring; it’s too much a part of everything you do.”

“Star, you’ve got your facts wrong. There is almost no prostitution in America.”

She looked startled. “Really? But–Isn’t ‘alimony’ an American word? And ‘gold digger’? And ‘coming-out party’?”

“Yes, but prostitution has almost died out. Hell, I wouldn’t know how to go about finding a whorehouse even in an Army town. I’m not saying that you don’t wind up in the nay. But it’s not commercialized. Star, even with an American girl who is well-known to be an easy make-out, if you offered her five bucks–or twenty–it’s ten to one she would slap your face.”

“Then how is it done?”

“You’re nice to her instead. Take her to dinner, maybe to a show. Buy her flowers, girls are suckers for flowers. Then approach the subject politely.”

“Oscar, doesn’t this dinner and show, and possibly flowers, cost more than five dollars? Or even twenty? I understood that American prices were as high as French prices.”

“Well, yes, but you can’t just tip your hat and expect a girl to throw herself on her back. A tightwad–”

“I rest the case. All I was trying to show was that customs can be wildly different in different worlds.”

“That’s true, even on Earth. But–”

“Please, milord. I won’t argue the virtue of American women, nor was I criticizing. Had I been reared in America I think I would want at least an emerald bracelet rather than dinner and a show. But I was leading up to the subject of ‘natural law.’ Is not the invariability of natural” law an unproved assumption? Even on Earth?”

“Well–You haven’t stated it fairly. It’s an assumption, I suppose. But there has never been a case in which it failed to stand up.”

“No black swans? Could it not be that an observer who saw an exception preferred not to believe his eyes? Just as you do not want to believe that Igli ate himself even though you, my Hero, forced him to?

Never mind. Let’s leave Socrates to his Xanthippe. Natural law may be invariable throughout a universe–seems to be, in rigid universes. But it is certain that natural laws vary from universe to
universe–and believe this you must, milord, else neither of us will live long!”

I considered it. Damn it, where had Igli gone? “Most unsettling.”

“No more unsettling, once you get used to it, than shifting languages and customs as you shift countries.

How many chemical elements are there on Earth?”

“Uh, ninety-two and a bunch of Johnny-Come-Latelies. A hundred and six or seven.”

“Much the same here. Nevertheless a chemist from Earth would suffer some shocks. The elements aren’t quite the same, nor do they behave quite the same way. H-bombs won’t work here and dynamite won’t explode.”

I said sharply, “Now wait! Are you telling me that electrons and protons aren’t the same here, to get down to basics?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. What is an electron but a mathematical concept? Have you tasted one lately? Or put salt on the tail of a wavicle? Does it matter?”

“It damn well would matter. A man can starve as dead from lack of trace elements as from lack of bread.”

“True. In some universes we humans must carry food if we visit them–which we sometimes must, if only to change trains. But here, and in each of the universes and countless planets where we humans live, you need not worry; local food will nourish you. Of course, if you lived here many years, then went back to Earth and died soon after and an autopsy were done with fussiest microanalysis, the analyst might not believe his results. But your stomach wouldn’t care.”

I thought about this, my belly stuffed with wonderful food and the air around me sweet and good–certainly my body did not care if there were indeed the differences Star spoke of.

Then I recalled one aspect of life in which little differences cause big differences. I asked Star about it.

She looked blandly innocent. “Do you care, milord? You will be long gone before it matters to Doral. I thought your purpose these three days was simply to help me in my problem? With pleasure in your work, I realize–you threw yourself into the spirit of the occasion.”

“Damn it, quit pulling my leg! I did it to help you. But a man can’t help wondering.”

She slapped my thigh and laughed. “Oh, my very darling! Stop wondering; human races throughout the Universes can crossbreed. Some crosses fruit but seldom and some mule out. But this is not one of them. You will live on here, even if you never return. You’re not sterile; that was one of many things I checked
when I examined your beautiful body in Nice. One is never sure how the dice will roll, but–I think the Doral will not be disappointed.”

She leaned toward me. “Would you give your physician data more accurate than that which Jocko sang? I might offer a statistical probability. Or even a Sight.”

“No, I would not! Nosy.”

“It is a long nose, isn’t it? As you wish, milord. In a less personal vein the fact of crossbreeding among humans of different universes–and some animals such as dogs and cats–is a most interesting question. The only certainty is that human beings flourish only in those universes having chemistries so similar that
elements that make up deoxyribonucleic acids are so alike as not to matter. As for the rest, every scholar has his theory. Some hold to a teleologic explanation, asserting that Man evolves alike in all essential particulars in every universe that can support him because of Divine Plan–or through blind necessity, depending on whether the scholar takes his religion straight or chases it with soda.

“Some think that we evolved just once–or were created, as may be–and leaked across into other universes. Then they fight over which universe was the home of the race.”

“How can there be any argument?” I objected. “Earth has fossil evidence covering the evolution of man. Other planets either have it or not, and that should settle it.”

“Are you sure, milord? I thought that, on Earth, man’s family tree has as many dotted lines as there are bastards in European royal lines.”

I shut up. I had simply read some popular books. Perhaps she was right; a race that could not agree as to who did what to whom in a war only twenty years back probably didn’t know what Alley Oop did to the upstairs maid a million years ago, when the evidence was only scattered bones. Hadn’t there been hoaxes? The Piltdown Man, or some such?

Star went on, “Whatever the truth, there are leakages between worlds. On your own planet disappearances run to hundreds of thousands and not all are absconders or wife-deserters; see any
police department’s files. One usual place is the battlefield. The strain becomes too great and a man slides through a hole he didn’t know was there and winds up ‘missing in action.’ Sometimes–not often–a man is seen to disappear. One of your American writers, Bierce or Pierce, got interested and collected such cases. He collected so many that he was collected, too. And your Earth experiences reverse leakage, the ‘Kaspar Hausers,’ persons from nowhere, speaking no known language and never able to account for themselves.”

“Wait a minute? Why just people?”

“I didn’t say ‘just people.’ Have you never heard of rains of frogs? Of stones? Of blood? Who questions a stray cat’s origin? Are all flying saucers optical illusions? I promise you they are not; some are poor lost astronauts trying to find their way home. My people use space travel very little, as faster-than-light is the readiest way to lose yourself among the Universes. We prefer the safer method of metaphysical geometries–or ‘magic’ in the vulgar speech.”

Star looked thoughtful. “Milord, your Earth may be the home of mankind. Some scholars think so.”

“Why?”

“It touches so many other worlds. It’s the top of the list as a transfer point. If its people render it unfit for life–unlikely, but possible–it will disrupt traffic of a dozen universes. Earth has had its fairy rings, and Gates, and Bifrost Bridges for ages; that one we used in Nice was there before the Romans came.”

“Star, how can you talk about points on Earth ‘touching’ other planets–for centuries on end? The Earth moves around the Sun at twenty miles a second or such, and spins on its axis, not to mention other motions that add up to an involved curve at unthinkable speed. So how can it ‘touch’ other worlds?”

Again we rode in silence. At last Star said, “My Hero, how long did it take you to learn calculus?”

“Why, I haven’t learned it. I’ve studied it a couple of years.”

“Can you tell me how a particle can be a wave?”

“What? Star, that’s quantum mechanics, not calculus. I could give an explanation but it wouldn’t mean anything; I don’t have the math. An engineer doesn’t need it.”

“It would be simplest,” she said diffidently, “to answer your question by saying ‘magic’ just as you answered mine with ‘quantum mechanics.’ But you don’t like that word, so all I can say is that after you study higher geometries, metaphysical and conjectural as well as topological and judicial–if you care to
make such study–I will gladly answer. But you won’t need to ask.”

(Ever been told: “Wait till you grow up, dear; then you will understand”? As a kid I didn’t like it from grownups; I liked it still less from a girl I was in love with when I was fully grown.)

Star didn’t let me sulk; she shifted the talk. “Some crossbreedings are from neither accidental slippages nor planned travel. You’ve heard of incubi and succubi?”

“Oh, sure. But I never bother my head with myths.”

“Not myths, darling, no matter how often the legend has been used to explain embarrassing situations. Witches and warlocks are not always saints and some acquire a taste for rape. A person who has learned to open Gates can indulge such vice; he–or she–can sneak up on a sleeping person–maid, chaste wife, virgin boy–work his will and be long gone before cockcrow.” She shuddered.

“Sin at its nastiest. If we catch them, we kill them. I’ve caught a few, I killed them. Sin at its worst, even if the victim learns to like it.” She shuddered again.

“Star, what is your definition of ‘sin’?”

“Can there be more than one? Sin is cruelty and injustice, all else is peccadillo. Oh, a sense of sin comes from violating the customs of your tribe. But breaking custom is not sin even when it feels so; sin is wronging another person.”

“How about ‘sinning against God’?” I persisted.

She looked at me sharply. “So again we shave the barber? First, milord, tell me what you mean by

‘God.’ ”

“I just wanted to see if you would walk into it.”

“I haven’t walked into that one in a mort of years. I’d as lief thrust with a bent wrist, or walk a pentacle in clothes. Speaking of pentacles, my Hero, our destination is not what it was three days ago. Now we go to a Gate I had not expected to use. More dangerous but it can’t be helped.”

“My fault! I’m sorry, Star.”

“My fault, milord. But not all loss. When we lost our luggage I was more worried than I dared show–even though I was never easy about carrying firearms through a world where they may not be
used. But our foldbox carried much more than firearms, things we are vulnerable without. The time you spent in soothing the hurt to the Doral’s ladies I spent–in part–in wheedling the Doral for a new kit, almost everything heart could wish but firearms. Not all loss.”

“We are going to another world now?”

“Not later than tomorrow dawn, if we live.”

“Damn it, Star, both you and Rufo talk as if each breath might be our last.”

“As it might be.”

“You’re not expecting an ambush now; we’re still on Doral land. But Rufo is as full of dire forebodings as a cheap melodrama. And you are almost as bad.”

“I’m sorry. Rufo does fret–but he is a good man at your back when trouble starts. As for me, I have been trying to be fair, milord, to let you know what to expect.”

“Instead you confuse me. Don’t you think it’s time you put your cards face up?”

She looked troubled. “And if the Hanging Man is the first card turned?”

“I don’t give a hoot! I can face trouble without fainting–”

“I know you can, my champion.”

“Thanks. But not knowing makes me edgy. So talk.”

“I will answer any question, milord Oscar. I have always been willing to.” “But you know that I don’t know what questions to ask. Maybe a carrier pigeon doesn’t need to know what the war is about–but I feel like a sparrow in a badminton game. So start from the beginning.”

“As you say, milord. About seven thousand years ago–” Star stopped. “Oscar, do you want to know–now all the interplay of politics of a myriad worlds and twenty universes over millennia in arriving at the present crisis? I’ll try if you say, but just to outline it would take more time than remains until we must pass through that Gate. You are my true champion; my life hangs on your courage and skill. Do you want the politics behind my present helpless, almost hopeless predicament–save for you! Or shall I concentrate on the tactical situation?”

(Damn it! I did want the whole story.) “Let’s stick to the tactical situation. For now.”

“I promise,” she said solemnly, “that if we live through it, you shall have every detail. The situation is this: I had intended us to cross Nevia by barge, then through the mountains to reach a Gate beyond the Eternal Peaks. That route is less risky but long.

“But now we must hurry. We will turn off the road late this afternoon and pass through some wild country, and country still worse after dark. The Gate there we must reach before dawn; with luck we may sleep. I hope so, because this Gate takes us to another world at a much more dangerous exit.

“Once there, in that world–Hokesh it is called, or Karth–in Karth-Hokesh we shall be close, too close, to a tall tower, mile high, and, if we win to it, our troubles start. In it is the Never-Born, the Eater
of Souls.”

“Star, are you trying to scare me?”

“I would rather you were frightened now, if such is possible, than have you surprised later. My thought, milord, had been to advise you of each danger as we reached it, so that you could concentrate
on one at a time. But you overruled me.”

“Maybe you were right. Suppose you give me details on each as we come to it, just the outline now. So I’m to fight the Eater of Souls, am I? The name doesn’t scare me; if he tries to eat my soul, he’ll throw up. What do I fight him with? Spit?”

“That is one way,” she said seriously, “but, with luck, we won’t fight him–it–at all. We want what it guards.”

“And what is that?”

“The Egg of the Phoenix.”

“The Phoenix doesn’t lay eggs.”

“I know, milord. That makes it uniquely valuable.”

“But–”

She hurried on. “That is its name. It is a small object, somewhat larger than an ostrich egg and black. If I do not capture it, many bad things will happen. Among them is a small one: I will die. I mention that because it may not seem small to you–my darling! –and it is easier to tell you that one truth than it is to explain the issues.”

“Okay. We steal the Egg. Then what?”

“Then we go home. To my home. After which you may return to yours. Or remain in mine. Or go where you list, through Twenty Universes and myriad worlds. Under any choice, whatever treasure you fancy is yours; you will have earned it and more . . . as well as my heartfelt thanks, milord Hero, and anything you ask of me.”

(The biggest blank check ever written–If I could cash it.) “Star, you don’t seem to think we will live through it.”

She took a deep breath. “Not likely, milord. I tell you truth. My blunder has forced on us a most desperate alternative.”

“I see. Star, will you marry me? Today?”

Then I said, “Easy there! Don’t fall!” She hadn’t been in danger of falling; the seat belt held her. But she sagged against it. I leaned over and put my arm around her shoulders. “Nothing to cry about. Just give me a yes or a no–and I fight for you anyway. On, I forgot. I love you. Anyhow I think it’s love. A funny, fluttery feeling whenever I look at you or think about you–which is mostly.”

“I love you, milord,” she said huskily. “I have loved you since I first saw you. Yes, a ‘funny, fluttery feeling’ as if everything inside me were about to melt down.”

“Well, not quite that,” I admitted. “But it’s probably opposite polarity for the same thing. Fluttery, anyhow. Chills and lightnings. How do we get married around here?”

“But, milord–my love–you always astound me. I knew you loved me. I hoped that you would tell me before–well, in time. Let me hear it once. I did not expect you to offer to marry me!”

“Why not? I’m a man, you’re a woman. It’s customary?”

“But–Oh, my love, I told you! It isn’t necessary to marry me. By your rules . . . I’m a bitch.”

“Bitch, witch, Sing Along with Mitch! What the hell, honey? That was your word, not mine. You have about convinced me that the rules I was taught are barbarous and yours are the straight goods. Better blow your nose–here, want my hanky?

Star wiped her eyes and blew her nose but instead of the yes-darling I wanted to hear she sat up straight and did not smile. She said formally, “Milord Hero, had you not best sample the wine before you buy the barrel?”

I pretended not to understand.

“Please, milord love,” she insisted. “I mean it. There’s a grassy bit on your side of the road, just ahead. You can lead me to it this moment and willingly I will go.”

I sat high and pretended to peer. “Looks like crab grass. Scratchy.”

“Then p-p-pick your own grass! Milord . . . I am willing, and eager, and not uncomely–but you will learn that I am a Sunday painter compared with artists you will someday meet. I am a working woman. I haven’t been free to give the matter the dedicated study it deserves. Believe me! No, try me. You can’t know that you want to marry me.”

“So you’re a cold and clumsy wench, eh?”

“Well . . . I didn’t say that. I’m only entirely unskilled–and I do have enthusiasm.”

“Yes, like your auntie with the cluttered bedroom–it runs in your family, so you said. Let it stand that I ant to marry you in spite of your obvious faults.”

“But–”

“Star, you talk too much.”

“Yes, milord,” she said meekly.

“We’re getting married. How do we do it? Is the local lord also justice of the peace? If he is, there will be no droit du seigneur; we haven’t time for frivolities.” “Each squire is the local justice,” Star agreed thoughtfully, “and does perform marriages, although most Nevians don’t bother. But–Well, yes, he would expect droit du seigneur and, as you pointed out, we haven’t time to waste.”

“Nor is that my idea of a honeymoon. Star–look at me. I don’t expect to keep you in a cage; I know you weren’t raised that way. But we won’t look up the squire. What’s the local brand of preacher? A celibate brand, by choice.”

“But the squire is the priest, too. Not that religion is an engrossing matter in Nevia; fertility rites are all they bother with. Milord love, the simplest way is to jump over your sword.”

“Is that a marriage ceremony where you come from, Star?”

“No, it’s from your world:

‘Leap rogue, and jump whore,

‘And married be forevermore–‘

“–it’s very old.”

“Mmm–I don’t care for the marriage lines. I may be a rogue but I know what you think of whores. What other chances are there?”

“Let me see. There’s a rumormonger in a village we pass through soon after lunch. They sometimes marry townies who want it known far and wide; the service includes spreading the news.”

“What sort of service?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care, milord love. Married we will be!”

“That’s the spirit! We won’t stop for lunch.”

“No, milord,” she said firmly, “if wife I am to be, I shall be a good wife and not permit you to skip meals.”

“Henpecking already. I think I’ll beat you.”

“As you will, milord. But you must eat, you are going to need your strength–”

“I certainly will!’

“–for fighting. For now I am ten times as anxious that we both live through it. Here is a place for

lunch.” She turned Vita Brevis off the road; Ars Longa followed. Star looked back over her shoulder and dimpled. “Have I told you today that you are beautiful . . . my love!”

Chapter 11

Rufo’s longhorse followed us onto the grassy verge Star picked for picnicking. He was still limp as a wet sock and snoring. I would have let him sleep but Star was shaking him.

He came awake fast, reaching for his sword and shouting, “A moi! M’aidez! Les vaches!” Fortunately some friend had stored his sword and belt out of reach on the baggage rack aft, along with bow, quiver, and our new foldbox.

Then he shook his head and said, “How many were there?”

“Down from there, old friend,” Star said cheerfully. “We’ve stopped to eat.”

“Eat!” Rufo gulped and shuddered. “Please, milady. No obscenity.” He fumbled at his seat belt and fell out of his saddle; I steadied him. Star was searching through her pouch; she pulled out a vial and offered it to Rufo. He shied back.

“Milady!”

“Shall I hold your nose?” she said sweetly.

“I’ll be all right. Just give me a moment . . . and the hair of the dog.”

“Certainly you’ll be all right. Shall I ask milord Oscar to pin your arms?”

Rufo glanced at me appealingly; Star opened the little bottle. It fizzed and fumes rolled out and down.

“Now!”

Rufo shuddered, held his nose, tossed it down.

I won’t say smoke shot out of his ears. But he flapped like torn canvas in a gale and horrible noises came out.

Then he came into focus as suddenly as a TV picture. He appeared heavier and inches taller and had finned out. His skin was a rosy glow instead of death pallor. “Thank you, milady,” he said cheerfully, his oice resonant and virile. “Someday I hope to return the favor.”

“When the Greeks reckon time by the kalends,” she agreed.

Rufo led the longhorses aside and fed them, opening the foldbox and digging out haunches of bloody eat. Ars Longa ate a hundredweight and Vita Brevis and Mors Profunda even more; on the road these beasts need a high-protein diet. That done, he whistled as he set up table and chairs for Star and myself.

“Sugar pie,” I said to Star, “what’s in that pick-me-up?”

“An old family recipe:

‘Eye of newt and toe of frog,

‘Wool of bat and tongue of dog,

‘Adders fork and blind-worm’s sting,

‘Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing–‘ ”

“Shakespeare!” I said. “Macbeth.”

” ‘Cool it with a baboon’s blood–‘ No, Will got it from me, milord love. That’s the way with writers; they’ll steal anything, file off the serial numbers, and claim it for their own. I got it from my aunt–another aunt–who was a professor of internal medicine. The rhyme is a mnemonic for the real ingredients which are much more complicated–never can tell when you’ll need a hangover cure. I compounded it last night, knowing that Rufo, for the sake of our skins, would need to be at his sharpest today–two doses, in fact, in case you needed one. But you surprised me, my love; you break out with nobility at the oddest times.”

“A family weakness. I can’t help it.”

“Luncheon is served, milady.”

I offered Star my arm. Hot foods were hot, cold ones chilled; this new foldbox, in Lincoln green embossed with the Doral chop, had equipment that the lost box lacked. Everything was delicious and the wines were superb.

Rufo ate heartily from his serving board while keeping an eye on our needs. He had come over to pour the wine for the salad when I broke the news. “Rufo old comrade, milady Star and I are getting married today. I want you to be my best man and help prop me up.”

He dropped the bottle.

Then he was busy wiping me and mopping the table. When at last he spoke, it was to Star. “Milady,” he said tightly, “I have put up with much, uncomplaining, for reasons I need not state. But this is going too far. I won’t let–”

“Hold your tongue!”

“Yes,” I agreed, “hold it while I cut it out. Will you have it fried? Or boiled?”

Rufo looked at me and breathed heavily. Then he left abruptly, withdrawing beyond the serving board.

Star said softly, “Milord love, I am sorry.”

“What twisted his tail?” I said wonderingly. Then I thought of the obvious. “Star! Is Rufo jealous?”

She looked astounded, started to laugh and chopped it off. “No, no, darling! It’s not that at all.

Rufo–Well, Rufo has his foibles but he is utterly dependable where it counts. And we need him. Ignore it. Please, milord.”

“As you say. It would take more than that to make me unhappy today.”

Rufo came back, face impassive, and finished serving. He repacked without speaking and we hit the road.

The road skirted the village green; we left Rufo there and sought out the rumormonger. His shop, a crooked lane away, was easy to spot; an apprentice was beating a drum in front of it and shouting
teasers of gossip to a crowd of locals. We pushed through and went inside.

The master rumormonger was reading something in each hand with a third scroll propped against his feet on a desk. He looked, dropped feet to floor, jumped up and made a leg while waving us to seats.

“Come in, come in, my gentles!” be sang out. “You do me great honor, my day is made! And yet if I may say so you have come to the right place whatever your problem whatever your need you have only to speak good news bad news every sort but sad news reputations restored events embellished history rewritten great deeds sung and all work guaranteed by the oldest established news agency in all Nevia news from all worlds all universes propaganda planted or uprooted offset or rechanneled satisfaction guaranteed honesty is the best policy but the client is always right don’t tell me I know I know I have spies in every kitchen ears in every bedroom the Hero Gordon without a doubt and your fame needs no heralds milord but honored am I that you should seek me out a biography perhaps to match your
matchless deeds complete with old nurse who recalls in her thin and ancient and oh so persuasive voice the signs and portents at your birth–”

Star chopped him off. “We want to get married.”

His mouth shut, he looked sharply at Star’s waistline and almost bought a punch in the nose. “It is a pleasure. And I must add that I heartily endorse such a public-spirited project. All this modern bundling and canoodling and scuttling without even three cheers or a by-your-leave sends taxes up and profits down that’s logic. I only wish I had time to get married myself as I’ve told my wife many’s the time. Now as to plans, if I may make a modest suggestion–”

“We want to be married by the customs of Earth.”

“Ah, yes, certainly.” He turned to a cabinet near his desk, spun dials. After a bit he said, “Your pardon, gentles, but my head is crammed with a billion facts, large and small, and–that name? Does it start with one ‘R’ or two?”

Star moved around, inspected the dials, made a setting.

The rumormonger blinked. “That universe? We seldom have a call for it. I’ve often wished I had time to travel but business business business–LIBRARY!”

“Yes, Master?” a voice answered.

“The planet Earth, Marriage Customs of–that’s a capital ‘Urr’ and a soft theta.” He added a five-group serial number. “Snap it up!”

In very short time an apprentice came running with a thin scroll. “Librarian says careful how you handle it, Master. Very brittle, he says. He says–”

“Shut up. Your pardon, gentles.” He inserted the scroll in a reader and began to scan.

His eyes bugged out and he sat forward. “Unbeliev–” Then he muttered, “Amazing! Whatever made them think of that!” For several minutes he appeared to forget we were there, simply giving vent to: “Astounding! Fantastic!” and like expressions.

I tapped his elbow. “We’re in a hurry.”

“Eh? Yes, yes, milord Hero Gordon–milady.” Reluctantly he left the scanner, fitted his palms together, and said, “You’ve come to the right place. Not another rumormonger in all Nevia could handle a project this size. Now my thought is–just a rough idea, talking off the top of my head–for the procession we’ll need to call in the surrounding countryside although for the charivari we could make do with just townspeople if you want to keep it modest in accordance with your reputation for dignified simplicity–say one day for the procession and a nominal two nights of charivari with guaranteed noise levels of–”

“Hold it.”

“Milord? I’m not going to make a profit on this; it will be a work of art, a labor of love–just expenses plus a little something for my overhead. It’s my professional judgment, too, that a Samoan pre-ceremony would be more sincere, more touching really, than the optional Zulu rite. For a touch of comedy relief–at no extra charge; one of my file clerks just happens to be seven months along, she’d be glad to run down the aisle and interrupt the ceremony–and of course there is the matter of witnesses to the consummation,
how many for each of you, but that needn’t be settled this week; we have the street decorations to think of first, and–”

I took her arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Yes, milord,” Star agreed.

He chased after us, shouting about broken contracts. I put hand to sword and showed six inches of blade; his squawks shut off.

Rufo seemed to be all over his mad; he greeted us civilly, even cheerfully. We mounted and left. We had been riding south a mile or so when I said, “Star darling–”

“Milord love?”

“That ‘jumping over the sword’–that really is a marriage ceremony?”

“A very old one, my darling. I think it dates back to the Crusades.”

“I’ve thought of an updated wording:

‘Jump rogue, and princess leap,

‘My wife art thou and mine to keep!’

“–would that suit you?”

“Yes, yes!”

“But for the second line you say:

‘–thy wife I vow and thine to keep.’

“Got it?”

Star gave a quick gasp. “Yes, my love!”

We left Rufo with the longhorses, giving no explanation, and climbed a little wooded hill. All of Nevia is beautiful, with never a beer can nor a dirty Kleenex to mar its Eden loveliness, but here we found an outdoor temple, a smooth grassy place surrounded by arching trees, an enchanted sanctuary.

I drew my sword and glanced along it, feeling its exquisite balance while noting again the faint ripples left by feather-soft hammer blows of some master swordsmith. I tossed it and caught it by the forte.

“Read the motto. Star.”

She traced it out. ” ‘Dum vivimus, vivamus!’–‘While we live, let us live!’ Yes, my love, yes!” She kissed it and handed it back; I placed it on the ground.

“Know your lines?” I asked.

“Graved in my heart.”

I took her hand in mine. “Jump high. One . . . two . . . three!”

Chapter 12

When I led my bride back down that blessed hill, arm around her waist, Rufo helped us mount without comment. But he could hardly miss that Star now addressed me as: “Milord husband.” He mounted and tailed in, a respectful distance out of earshot.

We rode hand in hand for at least an hour. Whenever I glanced at her, she was smiling; whenever she caught my eye, the smile grew dimples. Once I asked, “How soon must we keep lockout?”

“Not until we leave the road, milord husband.”

That held us another mile. At last she said timidly, “Milord husband?”

“Yes, wife?”

“Do you still think that I am ‘a cold and clumsy wench’?”

“Mmm . . .” I answered thoughtfully, ” ‘cold’–no, I couldn’t honestly say you were cold. But ‘clumsy’–Well, compared with an artist like Muri, let us say–”

“Milord husband!”

“Yes? I was saying

“Are you honing for a kick in the belly?” She added, “American!”

“Wife . . . would you kick me in the belly?”

She was slow in answering and her voice was very low. “No, milord husband. Never.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. But if you did, what would happen?”

“You–you would spank me. With my own sword. But not with your sword. Please, never with your sword . . . my husband.”

“Not with your sword, either. With my hand. Hard. First I would spank you. And then–”

“And then what?”

I told her. “But don’t give me cause. According to plans I have to fight later. And don’t interrupt me in the future.”

“Yes, milord husband.”

“Very well. Now let’s assign Muri an arbitrary score of ten. On that scale you would rate–Let me hink.”

“Three or four, perhaps? Or even five?”

“Quiet. I make it about a thousand. Yes, a thousand, give or take a point. I haven’t a slide rule.”

“Oh, what a beast you are, my darling! Lean close and loss me–and just wait till I tell Muri.”

“You’ll say nothing to Muri, my bride, or you will be paddled. Quit fishing for compliments. You know hat you are, you sword-jumping wench.”

“And what am I?”

“My princess.”

“Oh.”

“And a mink with its tail on fire–and you know it.”

“Is that good? I’ve studied American idiom most carefully but sometimes I am not sure.”

“It’s supposed to be tops. A figure of speech, I’ve never known a mink that well. Now get your mindon other matters, or you may be a widow on your bridal day. Dragons, you say?”

“Not until after nightfall, milord husband–and they aren’t really dragons.”

“As you described them, the difference could matter only to another dragon. Eight feet high at the houlders, a few tons each, and teeth as long as any forearm–all they need is to breathe flame.”

“Oh, but they do! Didn’t I say?”

I sighed. “No, you did not.”

“They don’t exactly breathe fire. That would kill them. They hold their breaths while flaming. It’s wamp gas–methane–from the digestive tract. It’s a controlled belch, with a hypergolic effect from an enzyme secreted between the first and second rows of teeth. The gas bursts into flame on the way out.”

“I don’t care how they do it; they’re flame-throwers. Well? How do you expect me to handle them?”

“I had hoped that you would have ideas. You see,” she added apologetically, “I hadn’t planned on it, I didn’t expect us to come this way.”

“Well–Wife, let’s go back to that village. Set up in competition with our friend the rumormonger–I’ll bet we could outgabble him.”

“Milord husband!”

“Never mind. If you want me to kill dragons every Wednesday and Saturday, I’ll be on call. This flaming methane–Do they spout it from both ends?”

“Oh, just the front end. How could it be both?”

“Easy. See next year’s model. Now quiet; I’m thinking over a tactic. Ill need Rufo. I suppose he has killed dragons before?”

“I don’t know that a man has ever killed one, milord husband.”

“So? My princess, I’m flattered by the confidence you place in me. Or is it desperation? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know. Keep quiet and let me think.”

At the next farmhouse Rufo was sent in to arrange returning the longhorses. They were ours, gifts from the Doral, but we had to send them home, as they could not live where we were going–Muri had promised me that she would keep an eye on Ars Longa and exercise her. Rufo came back with a bumpkin mounted on a heavy draft animal bareback–he Kept shifting numbly between second and third pairs of legs to spare the animal’s back and controlled it by voice.

When we dismounted, retrieved our bows and quivers, and prepared to hoof it, Rufo came up. “Boss, Manure Foot craves to meet the hero and touch his sword. Brush him off?”

Rank hath its duties as well as its privileges. “Fetch him.”

The lad, overgrown and fuzz on his chin, approached eagerly, stumbling over his feet, then made a leg so long he almost fell. “Straighten up, son,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Pug, milord Hero,” he answered shrilly. (“Pug” will do. The Nevian meaning was as rugged as Jocko’s jokes.) “A stout name. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A hero, milord! Like yourself.”

I thought of telling him about those rocks on the Glory Road. But he would find them soon enough if ever he tramped it–and either not mind, or turn back and forget the silly business. I nodded approvingly and assured him that there was always room at the top in the Hero business for a lad with spirit–and that the lower the start, the greater the glory . . . so work hard and study hard and wait his opportunity. Keep his guard up but always speak to strange ladies; adventure would come his way. Then I let him touch my sword–but not take it in hand. The Lady Vivamus is mine and I’d rather share my toothbrush.

Once, when I was young, I was presented to a Congressman. He had handed me the same fatherly guff I was now plagiarizing. Like prayer, it can’t do any harm and might do some good, and I found that I was sincere when I said it and no doubt the Congressman was, too. Oh, possibly some harm, as the youngster might get himself killed on the first mile of that road. But that is better than sitting over the fire in your old age, sucking your gums and thinking about the chances you missed and the gals you didn’t
tumble. Isn’t it?

I decided that the occasion seemed so important to Pug that it should be marked, so I groped in my pouch and found a U.S. quarter. “What’s the rest of your name. Pug?”

“Just ‘Pug,’ milord. Of house Lerdki, of course.”

“E. C.” to “Easy” because of my style of broken-field running–I never ran harder nor dodged more than the occasion demanded.

“By authority vested in me by Headquarters United States Army Southeast Asia Command, I, the Hero Oscar, ordain that you shall be known henceforth as Lerdki’t Pug Easy. Wear it proudly.”

I gave him the quarter and showed him George Washington on the obverse. “This is the father of my house, a greater hero than I will ever be. He stood tall and proud, spoke the truth, and fought for the right as he saw it, against fearful odds. Try to be like him. And here”–I turned it over–“is the chop of my house, the house he founded. The bird stands for courage, freedom, and ideals soaring high.” (I didn’t tell him that the American Eagle eats carrion, never tackles anything its own size, and will soon be extinct–it does stand for those ideals. A symbol means what you put into it.)

Pug Easy nodded violently and tears started to flow. I had not presented him to my bride; I didn’t know that she would wish to meet him. But she stepped forward and said gently, “Pug Easy, remember the words of milord Hero. Treasure them and they will last you all your life.”

The lad dropped to his knees. Star touched his hair and said, “Stand, Lerdki’t Pug Easy. Stand tall.”

I said good-bye to Ars Longa, told her to be a good girl and I would be back someday. Pug Easy readed back with longhorses tailed up and we set out into the woods, arrows nocked and Rufo eyes-behind. There was a sign where we left the yellow brick road; freely translated it read: ALL HOPE ABANDON, YE WHO ENTER HERE.

(A literal translation is reminiscent of Yellowstone Park: “Warning–the varmints in these woods are not tame. Travelers are warned to stay on the road, as their remains will not be returned to their kin. The Lerdki, His Chop.”)

Presently Star said, “Milord husband–”

“Yes, pretty foots?” I didn’t look at her; I was watching my side and a bit of hers, and keeping an eye overhead as well, as we could be bombed here–something like blood kites but smaller and goes for the eyes.

“My Hero, you are truly noble and you have made your wife most proud.”

“Huh? How?” I had my mind on targets–two kinds on the ground here: a rat big enough to eat cats and willing to eat people, and a wild hog about the same size and not a ham sandwich on him anyplace, all rawhide and bad temper. The hogs were easier targets, I had been told, because they charge straight at you. But don’t miss. And have your sword loosened, you won’t nock a second shaft.

“That lad, Pug Easy. What you did for him.”

“Him? I fed him the old malarkey. Cost nothing.”

“It was a kingly deed, milord husband.”

“Oh, nonsense, diddycums. He expected big talk from a hero, so I did.”

“Oscar my beloved, may a loyal wife point it out to her husband when he speaks nonsense of himself? I have known many heroes and some were such oafs that one would feed them at the back door if their eeds did not claim a place at the table. I have known few men who were noble, for nobility is scarcer far than heroism. But true nobility can always be recognized . . . even in one as belligerently shy about showing it as you are. The lad expected it, so you gave it to him–out noblesse oblige is an emotion felt
only by those who are noble.”

“Well, maybe. Star, you are talking too much again. Don’t you think these varmints have ears?”

“Your pardon, milord. They have such good ears that they hear footsteps through the ground long before they hear voices. Let me have the last word, today being my bridal day. If you are–no, when you are gallant to some beauty, let us say Letva–or Muri, damn her lovely eyes! –I do not count it as nobility; it must be assumed to spring from a much commoner emotion than noblesse oblige. But when you speak to a country lout with pigsty on his feet, garlic on his breath, the stink of sweat all over him, and pimples on his face–speak gently and make him feel for the time as noble as you are and let him hope one day to be your equal–I know it is not because you hope to tumble him.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Boys that age are considered a treat in some circles. Give him a bath, perfume him, curl his hair–”

“Milord husband, is it permitted for me to think about kicking you in the belly?”

“Can’t be court-martialed for thinking, that’s the one thing they can’t take away from you. Okay, I prefer girls; I’m a square and can’t help it. What’s this about Muri’s eyes? Longlegs, are you jealous?”

I could hear dimples even though I couldn’t stop to see them. “Only on my wedding day, milord husband; the other days are yours. If I catch you in sportiveness, I shall either not see it, or congratulate
you, as may be.”

“I don’t expect you’ll catch me.”

“And I trust you’ll not catch me, milord rogue,” she answered serenely.

She did get the last word, for just then Rufo’s bowstring went Fwung! He called out, “Got ‘im!” and then we were very busy. Hogs so ugly they made razorbacks look like Poland-Chinas–I got one by
arrow, down his slobbering throat then fed steel to his brother a frozen second later. Star got a fair hit at hers but it deflected on bone and kept coming and I kicked it in the shoulder as I was still trying to free my blade from its cousin. Steel between its ribs quieted it and Star coolly nocked another shaft and let fly while I was killing it. She got one more with her sword, leaning the point in like a matador at the moment of truth, dancing aside as it came on, dead and unwilling to admit it.

The fight was over. Old Rufo had got three unassisted and a nasty goring; I had a scratch and my bride was unhurt, which I made sure of as soon as things were quiet. Then I mounted guard while our surgeon took care of Rufo, after which she dressed my lesser cut.

“How about it, Rufo?” I asked. “Can you walk?”

“Boss, I won’t stay in this forest if I have to crawl, Let’s mush. Anyhow,” he added, nodding at the worthless pork around us, “we won’t be bothered by rats right away.”

I rotated the formation, placing Rufo and Star ahead with his good leg on the outside and myself taking rear guard, where I should have been all along. Rear guard is slightly safer than point under most conditions but these weren’t most conditions. I had let my blind need to protect my bride personally ffect my judgment.

Having taken the hot spot I then went almost cross-eyed trying not only to see behind but ahead as well, so that I could close fast if Star–yes, and Rufo–got into trouble. Luckily we had a breathing spell in which I sobered down and took to heart the oldest lesson on patrol: You can’t do the other man’s job. Then I gave all my attention to our rear. Rufo, old as he was and wounded, would not die without slaughtering an honor guard to escort him to hell in style–and Star was no fainting heroine. I would bet long odds on her against anyone her own weight, name your weapon or barehanded, and I pity the man who ever tried to rape her; he’s probably still searching for his cojones.

Hogs didn’t bother us again but as evening approached we began to see and oftener to hear those giant rats; they paced us, usually out of sight; they never attacked berserk the way the hogs had; they looked for the best of it, as rats always do.

Rats give me the horrors. Once when I was a kid, my dad dead and Mother not yet remarried, we were flat broke and living in an attic in a condemned building. You could hear rats in the walls and twice rats ran over me in my sleep.

I still wake up screaming.

It doesn’t improve a rat to blow it up to the size of a coyote. These were real rats, even to the whiskers, and shaped like rats save that their legs and pads were too large–perhaps the cube-square law
on animal proportions works anywhere.

We didn’t waste an arrow on one unless it was a fair shot and we zigzagged to take advantage of such openness as the forest had–which increased the hazard from above. However, the forest was so dense that attacks from the sky weren’t our first worry.

I got one rat that tailed too closely and just missed another. We had to spend an arrow whenever they got bold; it caused the others to be more cautious. And once, while Rufo was drawing a bow on one and Star was ready with her sword to back him up, one of those vicious little hawks dived on Rufo.

Star cut him out of the air at the bottom of his stoop. Rufo hadn’t even seen it; he was busy nailing brother rat.

We didn’t have to worry about underbrush; this forest was park-like, trees and grass, no dense undergrowth. Not too bad, that stretch, except that we began to run out of arrows. I was fretting about that when I noticed something. “Hey, up ahead! You’re off course. Cut to the right.” Star had set course for me when we left the road but it was up to me to hold it; her bump of direction was erratic and Rufo’s no better.

“Sorry, milord leader,” Star called back. “The going was a trifle steep.”

I closed in. “Rufo, how’s the leg?” There was sweat on his forehead.

Instead of answering me, he said, “Milady, it will be dark soon.”

“I know,” she answered calmly, “so time for a bite of supper. Milord husband, that great flat rock up ahead seems a nice place.”

I thought she had slipped her gears and so did Rufo, but for another reason. “But, milady, we are far ehind schedule.”

“And much later we shall be unless I attend to your leg again.”

“Better you leave me behind,” he muttered.

“Better you keep quiet until your advice is asked,” I told him. “I wouldn’t leave a Horned Ghost to be eaten by rats. Star, how do we do this?”

The great flat rock sticking up like a skull in the trees ahead was the upper surface of a limestone boulder with its base buried. I stood guard in its center with Rufo seated beside me while Star set out wards at cardinal and semi-cardinal points. I didn’t get to see what she did because my eyes had to be peeled for anything beyond her, shaft nocked and ready to knock it down or scare it off, while Rufo watched the other side. However, Star told me later that the wards weren’t even faintly “magic” but were within reach of Earth technology once some bright boy got the idea–an “electrified fence” without the fence, as radio is a telephone without wires, an analogy that won’t hold up.

But it was well that I kept honest lockout instead of trying to puzzle out how she sat up that charmed circle, as she was attacked by the only rat we met that had no sense. He came straight at her, my arrow past her ear warned her, and she finished him off by sword. It was a very old male, missing teeth and white whiskers and likely weak in his mind. He was as large as a wolf, and with two death wounds still a red-eyed, mangy fury.

Once the last ward was placed Star told me that I could stop worrying about the sky; the wards roofed as well as fenced the circle. As Rufo says, if She says it, that settles it. Rufo had partly unfolded the foldbox while he watched; I got out her surgical case, more arrows for all of us, and food. No nonsense about manservant and gentlefolk, we ate together, sitting or sprawling and with Rufo lying flat to give his leg a chance while Star served him, sometimes popping food into his mouth in Nevian hospitality.

She had worked a long time on his leg while I held a light and handed her things. She packed the wound with a pale jelly before sealing a dressing over it. If it hurt, Rufo didn’t mention it.

While we ate it grew dark and the invisible fence began to be lined with eyes, glowing back at us with the light we ate by, and almost as numerous as the crowd the morning Igli ate himself. Most of them I judged to be rats. One group kept to themselves with a break in the circle on each side; I decided these must be hogs; the eyes were higher off the ground.

“Milady love,” I said, “will those wards hold all night?”

“Yes, milord husband.”

“They had better. It is too dark for arrows and I can’t see us hacking our way through that mob. I’m afraid you must revise your schedule again.”

“I can’t, milord Hero. But forget those beasts. Now we fly.”

Rufo groaned. “I was afraid so. You know it makes me seasick.”

“Poor Rufo,” Star said softly. “Never fear, old friend I have a surprise for you. Again such chance as this, I bought Dramamine in Cannes–you know, the drug that saved the Normandy invasion back on Earth. Or perhaps you don’t know.”

Rufo answered, ” ‘Know’? I was in that invasion, milady–and I’m allergic to Dramamine; I fed fish all the way to Omaha Beach. Worst night I’ve ever had–why, I’d rather be here!”

“Rufo,” I asked, “were you really at Omaha Beach?”

“Hell, yes, Boss. I did all of Eisenhower’s thinking.”

“But why? It wasn’t your fight.”

“You might ask yourself why you’re in this fight, Boss. In my case it was French babes. Earthy and uninhibited and always cheerful about it and willing to learn. I remember one little mademoiselle from Armentieres”–he pronounced it correctly–“who hadn’t been–”

Star interrupted. “While you two pursue your bachelor reminiscences, I’ll get the flight gear ready.” She got up and went to the foldbox.

“Go ahead, Rufo,” I said, wondering how far he would stretch this one.

“No,” he said sullenly. “She wouldn’t like it. I can tell. Boss, you’ve had the damnedest effect on Her. More ladylike by the minute and that isn’t like Her at all. First thing you know She will subscribe to Vogue and then there’s no telling how far it will go. I don’t understand it, it can’t be your looks. No offense meant.”

“And none taken. Well, tell me another time. If you can remember it.”

“I’ll never forget her. But, Boss, seasickness isn’t the half of it. You think these woods are infested. Well, the ones we are coming to–wobbly in the knees, at least I will be–those woods have dragons.”

“I know.”

“So She told you? But you have to see it to believe it. The woods are full of ’em. More than there are
Doyles in Boston. Big ones, little ones, and the two-ton teen-age size, hungry all the time. You may fancy
being eaten by a dragon; I don’t. It’s humiliating. And final. They ought to spray the place with
dragonbane, that’s what they ought to do. There ought to be a law.”

Star had returned. “No, there should not be a law,” she said firmly. “Rufo, don’t sound off about things you don’t understand. Disturbing the ecological balance is the worst mistake any government can make.”

Rufo shut up, muttering. I said, “My true love, what use is a dragon? Riddle me that.”

“I’ve never cast a balance sheet on Nevia, it’s not my responsibility. But I can suggest the imbalances that might follow any attempt to get rid of dragons–which the Nevians could do; you’ve seen that their technology is not to be sneered at. These rats and hogs destroy crops. Rats help to keep the hogs down by eating piglets. But rats are even worse than hogs, on food crops. The dragons graze through these very woods in the daytime–dragons are diurnal, rats are nocturnal and go into their holes in the heat of the day. The dragons and hogs keep the underbrush cropped back and the dragons keep the lower limbs trimmed off. But dragons also enjoy a tasty rat, so whenever one locates a rat hole, it gives it a shot of flame, not always killing adults as they dig two holes for each nest, but certainly killing any babies–and then the dragon digs in and has his favorite snack. There is a long-standing agreement, amounting to a
treaty, that as long as the dragons stay in their own territory and keep the rats in check, humans will not
bother them.”

“But why not kill the rats, and then clean up the dragons?”

“And let the hogs run wild? Please, milord husband, I don’t know all the answers in this case; I simply know that disturbing a natural balance is a matter to be approached with fear and trembling–and a very versatile computer. The Nevians seem content not to bother the dragons.”

“Apparently we’re going to bother them. Will that break the treaty?”

“It’s not really a treaty, it’s folk wisdom with the Nevians, and a conditioned reflex–or possibly instinct–with the dragons. And we aren’t going to bother dragons if we can help it. Have you discussed tactics with Rufo? There won’t be time when we get there.”

So I discussed how to loll dragons with Rufo, while Star listened and finished her preparations. “All right,” Rufo said glumly, “it beats sitting tight, like an oyster on the half shell waiting to be eaten. More dignified. I’m a better archer than you are–or at least as good–so I’ll take the hind end, as I’m not as agile tonight as I should be.”

“Be ready to switch jobs fast if he swings around.”

“You be ready, Boss. I’ll be ready for the best of reasons–my favorite skin.”

Star was ready and Rufo had packed and reslung the foldbox while we conferred. She placed round garters above each knee of each of us, then had us sit on the rock facing our destination. “That oak arrow, Rufo.”

“Star, isn’t this out of the Albertus Magnus book?”

“Similar,” she said. “My formula is more reliable and the ingredients I use on the garters don’t spoil. If you please, milord husband, I must concentrate on my witchery. Place the arrow so that it points at the cave.”

I did so. “Is that precise?” she asked.

“If the map you showed me is correct, it is. That’s aimed just the way I’ve been aiming since we left the road.”

“How far away is the Forest of Dragons?”

“Uh, look, my love, as long as we’re going by air why don’t we go straight to the cave and skip the dragons?”

She said patiently, “I wish we could. But that forest is so dense at the top that we can’t drop straight down at the cave, no elbow room. And the things that live in those trees, high up, are worse than dragons. They grow–”

“Please!” said Rufo. “I’m airsick already and we’re not off the ground.”

“Later, Oscar, if you still want to know. In any case we daren’t risk encountering them–and won’t; they stay up higher than the dragons can reach, they must. How tar to the forest?”

“Mmm, eight and a half miles, by that map and how far we’ve come–and not more than two beyond that to the Cave of the Gate.”

“All right. Arms tight around my waist, both of you, and as much body contact as possible; it’s got to work on all of us equally.” Rufo and I settled each an arm in a hug about her and clasped hands across her tummy. That’s good. Hang on tight.” Star wrote figures on the rock beside the arrow.

It sailed away into the night with us after it.

I don’t see how to avoid calling this magic, as I can’t see any way to build Buck Rogers belts into elastic garters. Oh, if you like, Star hypnotized us, then used psi powers to teleport us eight and a half miles. “Psi” is a better word than “magic”; monosyllables are stronger than polysyllables–see Winston Churchill’s speeches. I don’t understand either word, any more than I can explain why I never get lost. I just think it’s preposterous that other people can.

When I fly in dreams, I use two styles: one is a swan dive and I swoop and swirl and cut didos; the other is sitting Turk fashion like the Little Lame Prince and sailing along by sheer force of personality.

The latter is how we did it, like sailing in a glider with no glider. It was a fine night for flying (all nights in Nevia are fine; it rains just before dawn in the rainy season, they tell me) and the greater moon silvered the ground below us. The woods opened up and became clumps of trees; the forest we were heading for showed black against the distance, much higher and enormously more imposing than the pretty woods behind us. Far off to the left I could glimpse fields of house Lerdki.

We had been in the air about two minutes when Rufo said, “Pa’don me!” and turned his head away. He doesn’t have a weak stomach; he didn’t get a drop on us. It arched like a fountain. That was the only incident of a perfect flight.

Just before we reached the tall trees Star said crisply, “Amech!” We checked like a heli and settled straight down to a three-fanny landing. The arrow rested on the ground in front of us, again dead. Rufo returned it to his quiver. “How do you feel?” I asked. “And how’s your leg?”

He gulped. “Leg’s all right. Ground’s going up and down.”

“Hush!” Star whispered. “Hell be all right. But hush, for your lives!”

We set out moments later, myself leading with drawn sword, Star behind me, and Rufo dogging her, an arrow nocked and ready.

The change from moonlight to deep shadow was blinding and I crept along, feeling for tree trunks and praying that no dragon would be in the path my bump of direction led. Certainly I knew that the dragons slept at night, but I place no faith in dragons. Maybe the bachelors stood watches, the way bachelor baboons do. I wanted to surrender that place of honor to St. George and take a spot farther back.

Once my nose stopped me, a whiff of ancient musk. I waited and slowly became aware of a shape the size of a real estate office–a dragon, sleeping with its head on its tail. I led them around it, making no noise and hoping that my heart wasn’t as loud as it sounded.

My eyes were doing better now, reaching out for every stray moonbeam that trickled down–and something else developed. The ground was mossy and barely phosphorescent the way a rotten log sometimes is. Not much. Oh, very little. But it was the way a darkroom light, almost nothing when you go inside, later is plenty of light. I could see trees now and the ground–and dragons.

I had thought earlier, Oh, what’s a dozen or so dragons in a big forest? Chances are we won’t see one, any more than you cath sight of deer most days in deer country.

The man who gets the all-night parking concession in that forest will make a fortune if he figures out a way to make dragons pay up. We never were out of sight of one after we could see.

Of course these aren’t dragons. No, they are uglier. They are saurians, more like tyrannosaurus rex than anything else–big hindquarters and heavy hind legs, heavy tail, and smaller front legs that they use either in walking or to grasp their prey. The head is mostly teeth. They are omnivores whereas I understand that T. rex ate only meat. This is no help; the dragons eat meat when they can get it, they prefer it. Furthermore, these not-so-fake dragons have evolved that charming trick of burning their own sewer gas. But no evolutionary quirk can be considered odd if you use the way octopi make love as a comparison.

Once, far off to the left, an enormous jet lighted up, with a grunting bellow like a very old alligator. The light stayed on several seconds, then died away. Don’t ask me–two males arguing over a female, maybe. We kept going, but I slowed after the light went out, as even that much was enough to affect our eyes until our night sight recovered.

I’m allergic to dragons–literally, not just scared silly. Allergic the way poor old Rufo is to Dramamine but more the way cat fur affects some people.

My eyes were watering as soon as we were in that forest, then my sinuses started to clog up and before we had gone half a mile I was using my left fist to rub my upper lip as hard as I could, trying to kill a sneeze with pain. At last I couldn’t make it and jammed fingers up my nostrils and bit my lips and the contained explosion almost burst my eardrums. It happened as we were skirting the south end of a truck-and-trailer-size job; I stopped dead and they stopped and we waited. It didn’t wake up.

When I started up, my beloved closed on me, grasped my arm; I stopped again. She reached into her pouch, silently found something, rubbed it on my nose and up my nostrils, then with a gentle push signed that we could move on.

First my nose burned cold, as with Vick’s salve, then it felt numb, and presently it began to clear.

After more than an hour of this agelong spooky sneak through tall trees and giant shapes, I thought we were going to win “home free.” The Cave of the Gate should be not more than a hundred yards ahead and I could see the rise in ground where the entrance would be–and only one dragon in our way and that not in direct line.

I hurried.

There was this little fellow, no bigger than a wallaby and about the same shape, aside from baby teeth four inches long. Maybe he was so young he had to wake to potty in the night, I don’t know. All I know is that I passed close to a tree he was behind and stepped on his tail, and he squealed!

He had every right to. But that’s when it hit the fan. The adult dragon between us and the cave woke up at once. Not a big one–say about forty feet, including the tail.

Good old Rufo went into action as if he had had endless time to rehearse, dashing around to the brute’s south end, arrow nocked and bow bent, ready to loose in a hurry. “Get its tail up!” he called out.

I ran to the front end and tried to antagonize the beast by shouting and waving my sword while wondering how far that flame-thrower could throw. There are only four places to put an arrow into a Nevian dragon; the rest is armored like a rhino only heavier. Those four are his mouth (when open), his eyes (a difficult shot; they are little and piggish), and that spot right under his tail where almost any animal is vulnerable. I had figured that an arrow placed in that tender area should add mightily to that “itching, burning” sensation featured in small ads in the backs of newspapers, the ones that say AVOID SURGERY!

My notion was that, if the dragon, not too bright, was unbearably annoyed at both ends at once, his coordination should go all to hell and we could peck away at him until he was useless, or until he got sick of it and ran. But I had to get his tail up, to let Rufo get in a shot. These creatures, satchel-heavy like old

T. rex, charge head up and front legs up and balance this by lifting the tail.
The dragon was weaving its head back and forth and I was trying to weave the other way, so as not to be lined up if it turned on the flame–when suddenly I got my first blast of methane, whiffing it before it lighted, and retreated so fast that I backed into that baby I had stepped on before, went clear over it, landed on my shoulders and rolled, and that saved me. Those flames shoot out about twenty feet. The grown-up dragon had reared up and still could have fried me, but the baby was in the way. It chopped off the flame–but Rufo yelled, “Bull’s-eye!”

The reason that I backed away in time was halitosis. It says here that “pure methane is a colorless, odorless gas.” The GI tract methane wasn’t pure; it was so loaded with homemade ketones and aldehydes that it made an unlimed outhouse smell like Shalimar.

I figure that Stars giving me that salve to open up my nose saved my life. When my nose clamps down I can’t even smell my upper lip.

The action didn’t stop while I figured this out; I did all my thinking either before or after, not during. Shortly after Rufo shot it in the bull’s-eye, the beast got a look of utter indignation, opened its mouth again without flaming and tried to reach its fanny with both hands. It couldn’t–forelegs too short–but it tried. I had returned sword in a hurry once I saw the length of that flame jet and had grabbed my bow. I had time to get one arrow into its mouth, left tonsil maybe.

This message got through faster. With a scream of rage that shook the ground it started for me, belching flame–and Rufo yelled, “A wart seven!”

I was too busy to congratulate him; those critters are fast for their size. But I’m fast, too, and had more incentive. A thing that big can’t change course very fast, but it can swing its head and with it the flame. I got my pants scorched and moved still faster, trying to cut around it.

Star carefully put an arrow into the other tonsil, right where the flame came out, while I was dodging. Then the poor thing tried so hard to turn both ways at both of us that it got tangled in its feet and fell over, a small earthquake. Rufo sank another arrow in its tender behind, and Star loosed one that passed through its tongue and stuck on the fletching, not damaging it but annoying it dreadfully.

It pulled itself into a ball, got to its feet, reared up and tried to flame me again. I could tell it didn’t like me.

And the flame went out.

This was something I had hoped for. A proper dragon, with castles and captive princesses, has as much fire as it needs, like six-shooters in TV oaters. But these creatures fermented their own methane and couldn’t have too big a reserve tank nor under too high pressure–I hoped. If we could nag one into using all its ammo fast, there was bound to be a lag before it recharged.

Meanwhile Rufo and Star were giving it no peace with the pincushion routine. It made a real effort to light up again while I was traversing rapidly, trying to keep that squealing baby dragon between me and the big one, and it behaved like an almost dry Ronson; the flame flickered and caught, shot out a pitiful six feet and went out. But it tried so hard to get me with that last flicker that it fell over again.

I took a chance that it would be sluggy for a second or two like a man who’s been tackled hard, ran in and stuck my sword in its right eye.

It gave one mighty convulsion and quit.

(A lucky poke. They say dinosaurs that big have brains the size of chestnuts. Let’s credit this beast with one the size of a cantaloupe–but it’s still luck if you thrust through an eye socket and get the brain right off. Nothing we had done up to then was more than mosquito bites. But it died from that one poke. St. Michael and St. George guided my blade.)

And Rufo yelled, “Boss! Git fer home!”

A drag race of dragons was closing on us. It felt like that drill in basic where you have to dig a foxhole, then let a tank pass over you.

“This way!” I yelled. “Rufo! This way, not that! Star!” Rufo skidded to a stop, we got headed the same way and I saw the mouth of the cave, black as sin and inviting as a mother’s arms. Star hung back; I shoved her in and Rufo stumbled after her and I turned to face more dragons for my lady love.

But she was yelling, “Milord! Oscar! Inside, you idiot! I must set the wards!”

So I got inside fast and she did, and I never did chew her out for calling her husband an idiot.

Chapter 13

The littlest dragon followed us to the cave, not belligerently (although I don’t trust anything with teeth that size) out more, I think, the way a baby duck follows anyone who leads. It tried to come in after us, drew back suddenly as its snout touched the invisible curtain, like a kitten hit by a static spark. Then it hung around outside, making wheepling noises.

I began to wonder whether or not Stars wards could stop flame. I found out as an old dragon arrived right after that, shoved his head into the opening, jerked it back indignantly just as the kid had, then eyed us and switched on his flame-thrower.

No, the wards don’t stop flame.

We were far enough inside that we didn’t get singed but the smoke and stink and heat were ghastly and just as deadly if it went on long.

An arrow whoofed past my ear and that dragon gave up interest in us. He was replaced by another who wasn’t convinced. Rufo, or possibly Star, convinced him before he had time to light his blowtorch. The air cleared; from somewhere inside there was an outward draft.

Meanwhile Star had made a light and the dragons were holding an indignation meeting. I glanced behind me–a narrow, low passage that dropped and turned. I stopped paying attention to Star and Rufo and the inside of the cave; another committee was calling.

I got the chairman in his soft palate before he could belch. The vice-chairman took over and got in a brief remark about fifteen feet long before he, too, changed his mind. The committee backed off and bellowed bad advice at each other.

The baby dragon hung around all during this. When the adults withdrew he again came to the door, just short of where he had burned his nose. “Koo-werp?” he said plaintively. “Koo-werp? Keet!” Plainly he wanted to come in.

Star touched my arm. “If milord husband pleases, we are ready.”

“Keet!”

“Right away,” I agreed, then yelled, “Beat it, kid! Back to your mama.”

Rufo stuck his head alongside mine. “Probably can’t,” he commented. “Likely that was its mama we ruined.”

I didn’t answer as it made sense; the adult dragon we had finished off had come awake instantly when I stepped on the kid’s tail. This sounds like mother love, if dragons go in for mother love–I wouldn’t know.

But it’s a hell of a note when you can’t even kill a dragon and feel lighthearted afterwards.

We meandered back into that hill, ducking stalactites and stepping around stalagmites while Rufo led with a torch. We arrived in a domed chamber with a floor glazed smooth by unknown years of calcified deposit. It had stalactites in soft pastel shades near the walls and a lovely, almost symmetrical chandelier from the center but no stalagmite under it. Star and Rufo had stuck lumps of the luminescent putty, which is the common night light in Nevia at a dozen points around the room; it bathed the room in a soft light and pointed up the stalactites.

Among them Rufo showed me webs. “Those spinners are harmless,” he said. “Just big and ugly. They don’t even bite like a spider. But–mind your step!” He pulled me back. “These things are poisonous even to touch. Blindworms. That’s what took us so long. Had to be sure the place was clean before warding it. But now that She is settig wards at the entrances I’ll give it one more check.”

The so-called blindworms were translucent, iridescent things the size of large rattlesnakes and slimy-soft like angleworms; I was glad they were dead. Rufo speared them on his sword, a grisly shishkebab, and carried them out through the entrance we had come in.

He was back quickly and Star finished warding. “That’s better,” he said with a sigh as he started cleaning his blade. “Don’t want their perfume around the house. They rot pretty fast and puts me in mind of green hides. Or copra. Did I ever tell you about the time I shipped as a cook out of Sydney? We had a second mate aboard who never bathed and kept a penguin in his stateroom. Female, of course. This bird was no more cleanly than he was and it used to–”

“Rufo,” said Star, “will you help with the baggage?”

“Coming, milady.”

We got out food, sleeping mats, more arrows, things that Star needed for her witching or whatever, and canteens to fill with water, also from the foldbox. Star had warned me earlier that Karth-Hokesh was a place where the local chemistry was not compatible with human life; everything we ate or drank we must fetch with us.

I eyed those one-liter canteens with disfavor. “Baby girl, I think we are cutting rations and water too fine.”

She shook her head. “We won’t need more, truly.”

“Lindbergh flew the Atlantic on just a peanut butter sandwich,” Rufo put in. “But I urged him to take more.”

“How do you know we won’t need more?” I persisted. “Water especially.”

“I’m filling mine with brandy,” Rufo said. “You divvy with me, I’U divvy with you.”

“Milord love, water is heavy. If we try to hang everything on us against any emergency, like the White Knight, we’ll be too weighted down to fight. I’m going to have to strain to usher through three people, weapons, and a minimum of clothing. Living bodies are easiest; I can borrow power from you both. Once-living materials are next; you’ve noticed, I think, that our clothing is wool, our bows of wood, and strings are of gut. Things never living are hardest, steel especially, yet we must have swords and, if we still had firearms, I would strain to the limit to get them through, for now we need them. However, milord Hero, I am simply informing you. You must decide–and I feel sure I can handle, oh, even half a hundredweight more of dead things if necessary. If you will select what your genius tells you.”

“My genius has gone fishing. But, Star my love, there is a simple answer. Take everything.”

“Milord?”

“Jocko set us out with half a ton of food, looks like, and enough wine to float a loan, and a little water. Plus a wide variety of Nevia’s best tools for killing, stabbing, and mayhem. Even armor. And more things. In that foldbox is enough to survive a siege, without eating or drinking anything from Karth-Hokesh. The beauty of it is that it weighs only about fifteen pounds, packed–not the fifty pounds you said you could swing by straining. I’ll strap it on my own back and won’t notice it. It won’t slow me down; it may armor me against a swing at my back. Suits?”

Star’s expression would have fitted a mother whose child has just caught onto the Stork hoax and is wondering how to tackle an awkward subject. “Milord husband, the mass is much too great. I doubt if any witch or warlock could move it unassisted.”

“But folded up?”

“It does not change it, milord; the mass is still there–still more dangerously there. Think of a powerful spring, wound very tight and small, thus storing much energy. It takes enormous power to put a foldbox through a transition in its compacted form, or it explodes.

I recalled a mud volcano that had drenched us and quit arguing. “All right. I’m wrong. But one question–If the mass is there always, why does it weigh so little when folded?”

Star got the same troubled expression. “Your pardon, milord, but we do not share the language–the mathematical language–that would permit me to answer. As yet, I mean; I promise you chance to study if you wish. As a tag, think of it as a tame spacewarp. Or think of the mass being so extremely far away–in a new direction–from the sides of the foldbox that local gravitation hardly matters.”

(I remembered a time when my grandmother had asked me to explain television to her–the guts, not the funny pictures. There are things which cannot be taught in ten easy lessons, nor popularized for the masses; they take years of skull sweat. This be treason in an age when ignorance has come into its own and one man’s opinion is as good as another’s. But there it is. As Star says, the world is what it is–and doesn’t forgive ignorance.)

But I was still curious. “Star, is there any way to tell me why some things go through easier than others? Wood easier than iron, for example?”

She looked rueful. “No, because I don’t know myself. Magic is not science, it is a collection of ways to do things–ways that work but often we don’t know why.”

“Much like engineering. Design by theory, then beef it up anyhow.”

“Yes, milord husband. A magician is a rule-of-thumb engineer.”

“And,” put in Rufo, “a philosopher is a scientist with no thumbs. I’m a philosopher. Best of all professions.”

Star ignored him and got out a sketch block, showed me what she knew of the great tower from which we must steal the Egg of Phoenix. This block appeared to be a big cube of Plexiglas; it looked like it, felt like it, and took thumbprints like it.

But she had a long pointer which sank into it as if the block were air. With its tip she could sketch in three dimensions; it left a thin glowing line whenever she wanted it–a 3-dimensional blackboard.

This wasn’t magic; it was advanced technology–and it will beat the hell out of our methods of engineering drawing when we learn how, especially for complex assemblies such as aviation engines and UHF circuitry–even better than exploded isometric with transparent overlays. The block was about thirty inches on a side and the sketch inside could be looked at from any angle–even turned over and studied from underneath.

The Mile-High Tower was not a spire but a massy block, somewhat like those stepped-back buildings in New York, but enormously larger.

Its interior was a maze.

“Milord champion,” Star said apologetically, “when we left Nice there was in our baggage a finished

sketch of the Tower. Now I must work from memory. However, I had studied the sketch so very long that I believe I can get relations right even if proportions suffer. I feel sure of the true paths, the paths that lead to the Egg. It is possible that false paths and dead ends will not be as complete; I did not study them as hard.”

“Can’t see that it matters,” I assured her. “If I know the true paths, any I don’t know are false ones. Which we won’t use. Except to hide in, in a pinch.”

She drew the true paths in glowing red, false ones in green–and there was a lot more green than red. The critter who designed that tower had a twisty mind. What appeared to be the main entrance went in, up, branched and converged, passed close to the Chamber of the Egg–then went back down by a devious route and dumped you out, like P. T. Barnum’s “This Way to the Egress.”

Other routes went inside and lost you in mazes that could not be solved by follow-the-left-wall. If you did, you’d starve. Even routes marked in red were very complex. Unless you knew where the Egg was guarded, you could enter correctly and still spend this year and next January in fruitless search.

“Star, have you been in the Tower?”

“No, milord. I have been in Karth-Hokesh. But far back in the Grotto Hills. I’ve seen the Tower only from great distance.”

“Somebody must have been in it. Surely your–opponents–didn’t send you a map.”

She said soberly, “Milord, sixty-three brave men have died getting the information I now offer you.”

(So now we try for sixty-four!) I said, “Is there any way to study just the red paths?”

“Certainly, milord.” She touched a control, green lines faded. The red paths started each from one of the three openings, one “door” and two “windows.”

I pointed to the lowest level. “This is the only one of thirty or forty doors that leads to the Egg?”

“That is true.”

“Then just inside that door they’ll be waiting to clobber us.”

“That would seem likely, milord.”

“Hmmm . . .” I turned to Rufo. “Rufe, got any long, strong, lightweight line in that plunder?”

“I’ve got some Jocko uses for hoisting. About like heavy fishing line, breaking strength around fifteen hundred pounds.”

“Good boy!” “Figured you might want it. A thousand yards enough?”

“Yes. Anything lighter than that?”

“Some silk trout line.”

In an hour we had made all preparations I could think of and that maze was as firmly in my head as the alphabet. “Star hon, we’re ready to roll. Want to whomp up your spell?”

“No, milord.”

“Why not? ‘Twere best done quickly.”

“Because I can’t, my darling. These Gates are not true gates; there is always a matter of timing. This one will be ready to open, for a few minutes, about seven hours from now, then cannot be opened again for several weeks.” I had a sour thought. “If the buckos we are after know this, they’ll hit us as we come out.”

“I hope not, milord champion. They should be watching for us to appear from the Grotto Hills, as they know we have a Gate somewhere in those hills–and indeed that is the Gate I planned to use. But this Gate, even if they know of it, is so badly located–for us–that I do not think they would expect us to dare it.”

“You cheer me up more all the time. Have you thought of anything to tell me about what to expect? Tanks? Cavalry? Big green giants with hairy ears?”

She looked troubled. “Anything I say would mislead you, milord. We can assume that their troops will be constructs rather than truly living creatures . . . which means they can be anything. Also, anything may be illusion. I told you about the gravity?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Forgive me. I’m tired and my mind isn’t sharp. The gravity varies, sometimes erratically. A level stretch will seem to be downhill, then quickly uphill. Other things . . . any of which may be illusion.”

Rufo said, “Boss, if it moves, shoot it. If it speaks, cut its throat. That spoils most illusions. You don’t need a program; there’ll be just us–and all the others. So when in doubt, kill it. No sweat.”

I grinned at him. “No sweat. Okay, well worry when we get there. So let’s quit talking.”

“Yes, milord husband,” Star seconded. “We had best get several hours’ sleep.”

Something in her voice had changed. I looked at her and she was subtly different, too. She seemed smaller, softer, more feminine and compliant than the Amazon who had fired arrows into a beast a hundred times her weight less than two hours before.

“A good idea,” I said slowly and looked around. While Star had been sketching the mazes of the Tower, Rufo had repacked what we couldn’t take and–I now noticed–put one sleeping pad on one side of the cave and the other two side by side as far from the first as possible.

I silently questioned her by glancing at Rufo and shrugging an implied, “What now?”

Her answering glance said neither yes nor no. Instead she called out, “Rufo, go to bed and give that leg a chance. Don’t lie on it. Either belly down or face the wall.”

For the first time Rufo showed his disapproval of what we had done. He answered abruptly, not what Star said but what she may have implied: “You couldn’t hire me to look!”

Star said to me in a voice so low I barely heard it, “Forgive him, milord husband. He is an old man, he has his quirks. Once he is in bed I will take down the lights.”

I whispered, “Star my beloved, it still isn’t my idea of how to run a honeymoon.”

She searched my eyes. “This is your will, milord love?”

“Yes. The recipe calls for a jug of wine and a loaf of bread. Not a word about a chaperon. I’m sorry.”

She put a slender hand against my chest, looked up at me. “I am glad, milord.”

“You are?” I didn’t see why she had to say so.

“Yes. We both need sleep. Against the morrow. That your strong sword arm may grant us many morrows.”

I felt better and smiled down at her. “Okay, my princess. But I doubt if I’ll sleep.”

“Ah, but you will!”

“Want to bet?”

“Hear me out, milord darling. Tomorrow . . . after you have won . . . we go quickly to my home. No more waitings, no more troubles. I would that you knew the language of my home, so that you will not feel a stranger. I want it to be your home, at once. So? Will milord husband dispose himself for bed? Lie back and let me give him a language lesson? You will sleep, you know that you will.”

“Well . . . it’s a fine idea. But you need sleep even more than I do.”

“Your pardon, milord, but not so. Four hours’ sleep puts spring in my step and a song on my lips.”

“Well . . . ”

Five minutes later I was stretched out, staring into the most beautiful eyes in any world and listening to

her beloved voice speak softly in a language strange to me . . .

Chapter 14

Rufo was shaking my shoulder. “Breakfast, Boss!” He shoved a sandwich into my hand and a pot of beer into the other. “That’s enough to fight on and lunch is packed. I’ve laid out fresh clothes and your weapons and I’ll dress you as soon as you finish. But snap it up. We’re on in a few minutes.” He was already dressed and belted.

I yawned and took a bite of sandwich (anchovies, ham and mayonnaise, with something that wasn’t quite tomato and lettuce)–and looked around. The place beside me was empty but Star seemed to have just gotten up; she was not dressed. She was on her knees in the center of the room, drawing some large design on the floor.

“Morning, chatterbox,” I said. “Pentacle?”

“Mmm–” she answered, not looking up.

I went over and watched her work. Whatever it was, it was not based on a five-cornered star. It had three major centers, was very intricate, had notations here and there–I recognized neither language nor script–and the only sense I could abstract from it was what appeared to be a hypercube seen face on.
“Had breakfast, hon?”

“I fast this morning.”

“You’re skinny now. Is that a tesseract?”

“Stop it!”

I made a leg. “Your pardon, milady.”

“Don’t be formal with me, darling. Love me anyhow and give me a quick kiss–then let me be.”

So I leaned over and gave her a high-caloric kiss, with mayonnaise, and let her be. I dressed while I finished the sandwich and beer, then sought out a natural alcove just short of the wards in the passage, one which had been designated the men’s room. When I came back Rufo was waiting with my sword belt “Boss, you’d be late for your own hanging.”

“I hope so.”

A few minutes later we were standing on that diagram, Star on pitcher’s mound with Rufo and myself at first and third bases. He and I were much hung about, myself with two canteens and Star’s sword belt (on its last notch) as well as my own, Rufo with Star’s bow slung and with two quivers, plus her medic’s kit and lunch. We each had longbow strung and tucked under left arm; we each had drawn sword. Star’s tights were under my belt behind in an untidy tail, her jacket was crumpled under Rufo’s belt, while her buskins and hat were crammed into pockets–etc. We looked like a rummage sale. But this did leave Rufo’s left hand and mine free. We faced outward with swords at ready, reached behind us and Star clasped us each firmly by hand. She stood in the exact center, feet apart and planted solidly and was wearing that required professionally of witches when engaged in heavy work, i.e., not even a bobby pin. She looked magnificent, hair shaggy, eyes shining, and face flushed, and I was sorry to turn my back.

“Ready, my gallants?” she demanded, excitement in her voice.

“Ready,” I confirmed.

“Ave, Imperatrix, nos morituri te–”

“Stop that, Rufo! Silence!” She began to chant in a language unknown to me. The back of my neck prickled.

She stopped, squeezed our hands much harder, and shouted, “Now!”

Sudden as a slammed door, I find I’m a Booth Tarkington hero in a Mickey Spillane situation.

I don’t have time to moan. Here is this thing in front of me, about to chop me down, so I run my blade through his guts and yank it free while he makes up his mind which way to fall; then I dose his buddy the same way. Another one is squatting and trying to get a shot at my legs past the legs of his squad mates. I’m as busy as a one-armed beaver with paperhangers and hardly notice a yank at my belt as Star recovers her sword.

Then I do notice as she kills the hostile who wants to shoot me. Star is everywhere at once, naked as a frog and twice as lively. There was a dropped-elevator sensation at transition, and suddenly reduced gravitation could have been bothersome had we time to indulge it.

Star makes use of it. After stabbing the laddie who tries to shoot me, she sails over my head and the head of a new nuisance, poking him in the neck as she passes and he isn’t a nuisance any longer.

I think she helps Rufo, but I can’t stop to look. I hear his grunts behind me and that tells me that he is still handing out more than he’s catching.

Suddenly he yells, “Down!” and something hits the back of my knees and I go down–land properly limp and am about to roll to my feet when I realize Rufo is the cause. He is belly down by me and shooting what has to be a gun at a moving target out across the plain, himself behind the dead body of one of our playmates.

Star is down, too, but not fighting. Something has poked a hole through her right arm between elbow and shoulder.

Nothing else seemed to be alive around me, but there were targets four to five hundred feet away and opening rapidly. I saw one fall, heard Zzzzt, smelled burning flesh near me. One of those guns was lying across a body to my left; I grabbed it and tried to figure it out. There was a shoulder brace and a tube which should be a barrel; nothing else looked familiar.

“Like this, my Hero.” Star squirmed to me, dragging her wounded arm and leaving a trail of blood. “Race it like a rifle and sight it so. There is a stud under your left thumb. Press it. That’s all–no windage, no elevation.”

And no recoil, as I found when I tracked one of the running figures with the sights and pressed the stud. There was a spurt of smoke and down he went. “Death ray,” or Laser beam, or whatever–line it up, press the stud, and anyone on the far end quit the party with a hole burned in him.

I got a couple more, working right to left, and by then Rufo had done me out of targets. Nothing moved, so far as I could see, anywhere.

Rufo looked around. “Better stay down, Boss.” He rolled to Star, opened her medic’s kit at his own belt, and put a rough and hasty compress on her arm.

Then he turned to me. “How bad are you hurt, Boss?”

“Me? Not a scratch.”

“What’s that on your tunic? Ketchup? Someday somebody is going to offer you a pinch of snuff. Let’s see it.”

I let him open my jacket. Somebody, using a saw-tooth edge, had opened a hole in me on my left side below the ribs. I had not noticed it and hadn’t felt it–until I saw it and then it hurt and I felt queasy. I strongly disapprove of violence done to me. While Rufo dressed it, I looked around to avoid looking at it.

We had killed about a dozen of them right around us, plus maybe half that many who had fled–and had shot all who fled, I think. How? How can a 60-lb. dog armed only with teeth take on, knock down, and hold prisoner an armed man? Ans: By all-out attack.

I think we arrived as they were changing the guard at that spot known to be a Gate–and had we arrived even with swords sheathed we would have been cut down. As it was, we killed a slew before most of them knew a fight was on. They were routed, demoralized, and we slaughtered the rest, including those who tried to bug out. Karate and many serious forms of combat (boxing isn’t serious, nor anything with rules)–all these work that same way: go-for-broke, all-out attack with no wind up. These are not so much skills as an attitude.

I had time to examine our late foes; one was faced toward me with his belly open. “Iglis” I would call them, but of the economy model. No beauty and no belly buttons and not much brain–presumably constructed to do one thing: fight, and try to stay alive. Which describes us, too–but we did it faster.

Looking at them upset my stomach, so I looked at the sky. No improvement–it wasn’t decent sky and wouldn’t come into focus. It crawled and the colors were wrong, as jarring as some abstract paintings. I looked back at our victims, who seemed almost wholesome compared with that “sky.”

While Rufo was doctoring me, Star squirmed into her tights and put on her buskins. “Is it all right for me to sit up to get into my jacket?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Maybe they’ll think we’re dead.” Rufo and I helped her finish dressing without any of us rising up above the barricade of flesh. I’m sure we hurt her arm but all she said was, “Sling my sword left-handed. What now, Oscar?”

“Where are the garters?”

“Got em. But I’m not sure they will work. This is a very odd place.”

“Confidence,” I told her. “That’s what you told me a few minutes ago. Put your little mind to work believing you can do it.” We ranged ourselves and our plunder, now enhanced by three “rifles” plus side arms of the same sort, then laid out the oaken arrow for the top of the Mile-High Tower. It dominated one whole side of the scene, more a mountain than a building, black and monstrous.

“Ready?” asked Star. “Now you two believe, tool” She scrawled with her finger in the sand. “Go!”

We went. Once in the air, I realized what a naked target we were–but we were a target on the ground, too, for anyone up on that tower, and worse if we had hoofed it. “Faster!” I yelled in Stars ear.
“Make us go faster!”

We did. Air shrilled past our ears and we bucked and dipped and side-slipped as we passed over those gravitational changes Star had warned me about–and perhaps that saved us; we made an evasive target. However, if we got all of that guard party, it was possible that no one in the Tower knew we had arrived.

The ground below was gray-black desert surrounded by a mountain ringwall like a lunar crater and the Tower filled the place of a central peak. I risked another look at the sky and tried to figure it out. No sun. No stars. No black sky nor blue–light came from all over and the “sky” was ribbons and boiling shapes and shadow holes of all colors.

“What in God’s name land of planet is this?” I demanded.

“It’s not a planet,” she yelled back. “It’s a place, in a different sort of universe. It’s not fit to live in.”

“Somebody lives here.” I indicated the Tower.

“No, no, nobody lives here. That was built just to guard the Egg.”

The monstrousness of that idea didn’t soak in right then. I suddenly recalled that we didn’t dare eat or drink here–and started wondering how we could breathe the air if the chemistry was that poisonous. My chest felt tight and started to burn. So I asked Star and Rufo moaned. (He rated a moan or two; he hadn’t thrown up. I don’t think he had.)

“Oh, at least twelve hours,” she said. “Forget it. No importance.”

Whereupon my chest really hurt and I moaned, too.

We were dumped on top of the Tower right after that; Star barely got out “Amech!” in time to keep us from zooming past.

The top was flat, seemed to be black glass, was about two hundred yards square–and there wasn’t a fiddlewinking thing to fasten a line to. I had counted on at least a ventilator stack.

The Egg of the Phoenix was about a hundred yards straight down. I had had two plans in mind if we ever reached the Tower. There were three openings (out of hundreds) which led to true paths to the Egg–and to the Never-Born, the Eater of Souls, the M.P. guarding it. One was at ground level and I never considered it. A second was a couple of hundred feet off the ground and I had given that serious thought: loose an arrow with a messenger line so that the line passed over any projection above that hole; use that to get the strong line up, then go up the line–no trick for any crack Alpinist, which I wasn’t but Rufo was.

But the great Tower turned out to have no projections, real modern simplicity of design–carried too far.

The third plan was, if we could reach the top, to let ourselves down by a line to the third non-fake entrance, almost on level with the Egg. So here we were, all set–and no place to hitch.

Second thoughts are wonderful thoughts–why hadn’t I had Star drive us straight into that hole in the wall?

Well, it would take very fine sighting of that silly arrow; we might hit the wrong pigeonhole. But the important reason was that I hadn’t thought of it.

Star was sitting and nursing her wounded arm. I said, “Honey, can you fly us, slow and easy, down a couple of setbacks and into that hole we want?”

She looked up with drawn face. “No.”

“Well. Too bad.”

“I hate to tell you–but I burned out the garters on that speed run. They won’t be any good until I can recharge them. Not things I can get here. Green mug-wort, blood of a hare–things like that.”

“Boss,” said Rufo, “how about using the whole top of the Tower as a hitching post?”

“How do you mean?”

“We’ve got lots of line.”

It was a workable notion–walk the line around the top while somebody else held the bitter end, then

tie it and go down what hung over. We did it–and finished up with only a hundred feet too little of line out of a thousand yards.

Star watched us. When I was forced to admit that a hundred feet short was as bad as no line at all, she said thoughtfully, “I wonder if Aaron’s Rod would help?”

“Sure, if it was stuck in the top of this overgrown ping-pong table. What’s Aaron’s Rod?”

“It makes stiff things limp and limp things stiff. No, no, not that. Well, that, too, but what I mean is to lay this line across the roof with about ten feet hanging over the far side. Then make that end and the crossing part of the line steel hard–sort of a hook.”

“Can you do it?”

“I don’t know. It’s from The Key of Solomon and it’s an incantation. It depends on whether I can remember it–and on whether such things work in this universe.”

“Confidence, confidence! Of course you can.”

“I can’t even think how it starts. Darling, can you hypnotize? Rufo can’t–or at least not me.”

“I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Do just the way I do with you for a language lesson. Look me in the eye, talk softly, and tell me to remember the words. Perhaps you had better lay out the line first.”

We did so and I used a hundred feet instead of ten for the bill of the hook, on the more-is-better principle. Star lay back and I started talking to her, softly (and without conviction) but over and over again.

Star closed her eyes and appeared to sleep. Suddenly she started to mumble in tongues.

“Hey, Boss! Damn thing is hard as rock and stiff as a life sentence!”

I told Star to wake up and we slid down to the setback below as fast as we could, praying that it wouldn’t go limp on us. We didn’t shift the line; I simply had Star cause more of it to starch up, then I went on down, made certain that I had the right opening, three rows down and fourteen over, then Star slid down and I caught her in my arms; Rufo lowered the baggage, weapons mostly, and followed. We were in the Tower and had been on the planet–correction: the “place”–we had been in the place called Karth-Hokesh not more than forty minutes.

I stopped, got the building matched in my mind with the sketch block map, fixed the direction and location of the Egg, and the “red line” route to it, the true path.

Okay, go on in a few hundred yards, snag the Egg of the Phoenix and go! My chest stopped hurting.

Chapter 15

“Boss,” said Rufo, “Look out over the plain.”

“At what?”

“At nothing,” he answered. “Those bodies are gone. You sure as hell ought to be able to see them, against black sand and not even a bush to break the view.”

I didn’t look. “That’s the moose’s problem, damn it! We’ve got work to do. Star, can you shoot left-handed? One of these pistol things?”

“Certainly, milord.”

“You stay ten feet behind me and shoot anything that moves. Rufo, you follow Star, bow ready and an arrow nocked. Try for anything you see. Sling one of those guns–make a sling out of a bit of line.” I frowned. “We’ll have to abandon most of this. Star, you can’t bend a bow, so leave it behind, pretty as it is, and your quiver. Rufo can sling my quiver with his; we use the same arrows. I hate to abandon my bow, it suits me so. But I must. Damn.”

“I’ll carry it, my Hero.”

“No, any clutter we can’t use must be junked.” I unhooked my canteen, drank deeply, passed it over. “You two finish it and throw it away.” While Rufo drank, Star slung my bow. “Milord husband? It weighs nothing this way and doesn’t hamper my shooting arm. So?”

“Well–If it gets in your way, cut the string and forget it. Now drink your fill and we go.” I peered

down the corridor we were in–fifteen feet wide and the same high, lighted from nowhere and curving away to the right, which matched the picture in my mind. “Ready? Stay closed up. If we can’t slice it, shoot it, or shaft it, we’ll salute it.” I drew sword and we set out, quick march.

Why my sword, rather than one of those “death ray” guns? Star was carrying one of those and knew more about one than I did. I didn’t even know how to tell if one was charged, nor had I judgment in how long to press the button. She could shoot, her bowmanship proved that, and she was at least as cool in a fight as Rufo or myself.

I had disposed weapons and troops as well as I knew how. Rufo, behind with a stock of arrows, could use them if needed and his position gave him time to shift to either sword or Buck Rogers “rifle” if his judgment said to–and I didn’t need to advise him; he would.

So I was backed up by long-range weapons ancient and ultramodern in the hands of people who knew how to use them and temperament to match–the latter being the more important. (Do you know how many men in a platoon actually shoot in combat? Maybe six. More likely three. The rest freeze up.) Still, why didn’t I sheathe my sword and carry one of those wonder weapons?

A properly balanced sword is the most versatile weapon for close quarters ever devised. Pistols and guns are all offense, no defense; close on him fast and a man with a gun can’t shoot, he has to stop you before you reach him. Close on a man carrying a blade and you’ll be spitted like a roast pigeon–unless you have a blade and can use it better than he can.

A sword never jams, never has to be reloaded, is always ready. Its worst shortcoming is that it takes great skill and patient, loving practice to gain that skill; it can’t be taught to raw recruits in weeks, nor even months.

But most of all (and this was the real reason) to grasp the Lady Vivamus and feel her eagerness to bite gave me courage in a spot where I was scared spitless.

They (whoever “they” were) could shoot us from ambush, gas us, booby-trap us, many things. But they could do those things even if I carried one of those strange guns. Sword in hand, I was relaxed and unafraid–and that made my tiny “command” more nearly safe. If a C.O. needs to carry a rabbit’s foot, he should–and the grip of that sweet sword was bigger medicine than all the rabbits’ feet in Kansas.

The corridor stretched ahead, no break, no sound, no threat. Soon the opening to the outside could no longer be seen. The great Tower felt empty but not dead; it was alive the way a museum is alive at night, with crowding presence and ancient evil. I gripped my sword tightly, then consciously relaxed and flexed my fingers.

We came to a sharp left turn. I stopped short. “Star, this wasn’t on your sketch.”

She didn’t answer. I persisted, “Well, it wasn’t. Was it?”

“I am not sure, milord.”

“Well, I am. Hmm–”

“Boss,” said Rufo, “are you dead sure we entered by the right pigeonhole?”

“I’m certain. I may be wrong but I’m not uncertain–and if I’m wrong, we’re dead pigeons anyhow. Mmm–Rufo, take your bow, put your hat on it, stick it out where a man would IOOK around that corner if he were standing–and time it as I do look out, but lower down.” I got on my belly.

“Ready . . . now!” I sneaked a look six inches above the floor while Rufo tried to draw fire higher up.

Nothing in sight, just bare corridor, straight now.

“Okay, follow me! We hurried around the corner.

I stopped after a few paces. “What the hell?”

“Something wrong Boss?”

“Plenty.” I turned and sniffed. “Wrong as can be. The Egg is up that way,” I said, pointing, “maybe two hundred yards–by the sketch block map.”

“Is that bad?”

“I’m not sure. Because it was that same direction and angle, off on the left, before we turned that corner. So now it ought to be on the right.”

Rufo said, “Look, Boss, why don’t we just follow the passageways you memorized? You may not remember every little–”

“Shut up. Watch ahead, down the corridor. Star, stand there in the corner and watch me. I’m going to try something.”

They placed themselves, Rufo “eyes ahead” and Star where she could see both ways, at the right-angle bend. I went back into the first reach of corridor, then returned. Just short of the bend I closed my eyes and kept on.

I stopped after another dozen steps and opened my eyes. “That proves it,” I said to Rufo.

“Proves what?”

“There isn’t any bend in the corridor.” I pointed to the bend.

Rufo looked worried. “Boss, how do you feel?” He tried to touch my cheek.

I pulled back. “I’m not feverish. Come with me, both of you.” I led them back around that right angle some fifty feet and stopped. “Rufo, loose an arrow at that wall ahead of us at the bend. Lob it so that it hits the wall about ten feet up.”

Rufo sighed but did so. The arrow rose true, disappeared in the wall. Rufo shrugged. “Must be pretty soft up there. You’ve lost us an arrow. Boss.”

“Maybe. Places and follow me.” We took that corner again and here was the spent arrow on the floor somewhat farther along than the distance from loosing to bend. I let Rufo pick it up; he looked closely at the Doral chop by the fletching, returned it to quiver. He said nothing. We kept going.

We came to a place where steps led downward–but where the sketch in my head called for steps leading up. “Mind the first step,” I called back. “Feel for it and don’t fall.”

The steps felt normal, for steps leading downward–with the exception that my bump of direction told me that we were climbing, and our destination changed angle and distance accordingly. I closed my eyes for a quick test and found that I was indeed climbing, only my eyes were deceived. It was like one of those “crooked houses” in amusement parks, in which a “level” floor is anything but level–like that but cubed.

I quit questioning the accuracy of Star’s sketch and tracked its trace in my head regardless of what my eyes told me. When the passageway branched four ways while my memory showed only a simple branching, one being a dead end, I unhesitatingly closed my eyes and followed my nose–and the Egg stayed where it should stay, in my mind.

But the Egg did not necessarily get closer with each twist and turn save in the sense that a straight line is not the shortest distance between two points–is it ever? The path was as twisted as guts in a belly; the architect had used a pretzel for a straight edge. Worse yet, another time when we were climbing “up”
stairs–at a piece level by the sketch–a gravitational anomaly caught us with a lull turn and we were suddenly sliding down the ceiling.

No harm done save that it twisted again as we hit bottom and dumped us from ceiling to floor. With both eyes peeled I helped Rufo gather up arrows and off we set again. We were getting close to the lair of the Never-Born–and the Egg.

Passageways began to be narrow and rocky, the false twists tight and hard to negotiate–and the light began to fail.

That wasn’t the worst. I’m not afraid of dark nor of tight places; it takes a department store elevator on Dollar Day to give me claustrophobia. But I began to hear rats.

Rats, lots of rats, running and squeaking in the walls around us, under us, over us. I started to sweat and was sorry I had taken that big drink of water. Darkness and closeness got worse, until we were crawling through a rough tunnel in rock, then inching along on our bellies in total darkness as if tunneling out of Chateau d’If . . . and rats brushed past us now, squeaking and chittering.

No, I didn’t scream. Star was behind me and she didn’t scream and she didn’t complain about her wounded arm–so I couldn’t scream. She patted me on the foot each time she inched forward, to tell me that she was all right and to report that Rufo was okay, too. We didn’t waste strength on talk.

I saw a faint something, two ghosts of light ahead, and stopped and stared and blinked and stared again. Then I whispered to Star, “I see something. Stay put, while I move up and see what it is. Hear me?”

“Yes, milord Hero.”

“Tell Rufo.”

Then I did the only really brave thing I have ever done in my life: I inched forward. Bravery is going on anyhow when you are so terrified your sphincters won’t hold and you can’t breathe and your heart threatens to stop, and that is an exact description for that moment of E. C. Gordon, ex-Pfc. and hero by trade. I was fairly certain what those two faint lights were and the closer I got the more certain I was–I could smell the damned thing and place its outlines.

A rat. Not the common rat that lives in city dumps and sometimes gnaws babies, but a giant rat, big enough to block that rat hole but enough smaller than I am to have room to maneuver in attacking me–room I didn’t have at all. The best I could do was to wriggle forward with my sword in front of me and try to Keep the point aimed so that I would catch him with it, make mm eat steel–because if he dodged past that point I would have nothing but bare hands and no room to use them. He would be at my face.

I gulped sour vomit and inched forward. His eyes seemed to drop a little as if he were crouching to charge.

But no rush came. The lights got more definite and wider apart, and when I had squeezed a foot or two farther I realized with shaking relief that they were not rat’s eyes but something else–anything, I didn’t care what.

I continued to inch forward. Not only was the Egg in that direction but I still didn’t know what it was and I had best see before telling Star to move up.

The “eyes” were twin pinholes in a tapestry that covered the end of that rat hole. I could see its embroidered texture and I found I could look through one of its imperfections when I got up to it.

There was a large room beyond, the floor a couple of feet lower than where I was. At the far end, fifty feet away, a man was standing by a bench, reading a book. Even as I watched he raised his eyes and glanced my way. He seemed to hesitate.

I didn’t. The hole had eased enough so that I managed one foot under and lunged forward, brushing the arras aside with my sword. I stumbled and bounced to my feet, on guard.

He was at least as fast. He had slapped the book down on the bench and drawn sword himself, advanced toward me, while I was popping out of that hole. He stopped, knees bent, wrist straight, left arm back, and point for me, perfect as a fencing master, and looked me over, not yet engaged by three or four feet between our steels.

I did not rush him. There is a go-for-broke tactic, “the target,” taught by the best swordmasters, which consists in headlong advance with arm, wrist, and blade in full extension–all attack and no attempt to parry. But it works only by perfect timing when you see your opponent slacken up momentarily.

Otherwise it is suicide.

This time it would have been suicide; he was as ready as a tomcat with his back up. So I sized him up while he looked me over. He was a smallish neat man with arms long for his height–I might or might not have reach on him, especially as his rapier was an old style, longer than Lady Vivamus (but slower thereby, unless he had a much stronger wrist)–and he was dressed more for the Paris of Richelieu than for Karth-Hokesh. No, that’s not fair; the great black Tower had no styles, else I would have been as out of style in my fake Robin Hood getup. The Iglis we had killed had worn no clothes.

He was an ugly cocky little man with a merry grin and the biggest nose west of Durante–made me think of my first sergeant’s nose, very sensitive he was about being called “Schnozzola.” But the resemblance stopped there; my first sergeant never smiled and had mean, piggish eyes; this man’s eyes were merry and proud.

“Are you Christian?” he demanded.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Blood’s blood, either way. If Christian you be, confess. If pagan, call your false gods. I’ll allow you no more than three stanzas. But I’m sentimental, I like to know what I’m killing.”

“I’m American.”

“Is that a country? Or a disease? And what are you doing in Hoax?”

” ‘Hoax’? Hokesh?”

He shrugged only with his eyes, his point never moved. “Hoax, Hokesh–a matter of geography and accent; this chateau was once in the Carpathians, so ‘Hokesh’ it is, if ’twill make your death merrier.
Come now, let us sing.”

He advanced so fast and smoothly that he seemed to apport and our blades rang as I parried his attack in sixte and riposted, was countered–remise, reprise, beat-and-attack–the phrase ran so smoothly, so long, and in such variation that a spectator might have thought that we were running through Grand Salute.

But I knew! That first lunge was meant to kill me, and so was his every move throughout the phrase. At the same time he was feeling me out, trying my wrist, looking for weaknesses, whether I was afraid of low line and always returned to high or perhaps was a sucker for a disarm. I never lunged, never had a chance to; every part of the phrase was forced on me, I simply replied, tried to stay alive.

I knew in three seconds that I was up against a better swordsman than myself, with a wrist like steel yet supple as a striking snake. He was the only swordsman I have ever met who used prime and octave–used them, I mean, as readily as sixte and carte. Everyone learns them and my own master made me practice them as much as the other six–but most fencers don’t use them; they simply may be forced into them, awkwardly and just before losing a point.

I would lose, not a point, but my life–and I knew, long before the end of that first long phrase, that my life was what I was about to lose, by all odds.

Yet at first clash the idiot began to sing!

“Lunge and counter and thrust,

“Sing me the logic of steel!

“Tell me, sir, how do you feel?

“Riposte and remise if you must

“In logic long known to be just.

“Shall we argue, rebut and refute

“In enthymeme clear as your eye?

“Tell me, sir, why do you sigh?

“Tu es fatigue, sans doute?

“Then sleep while I’m counting the loot.”

The above was long enough for at least thirty almost successful attempts on my life, and on the last word he disengaged as smoothly and unexpectedly as he had engaged.

“Come, come, lad!” he said. “Pick it up! Would let me sing alone? Would die as a clown with ladies watching? Sing! –and say good-bye gracefully, with your last rhyme racing your death rattle.” He banged his right boot in a flamenco stomp. “Try! The price is the same either way.”

I didn’t drop my eyes at the sound of his boot; it’s an old gambit, some fencers stomp on every advance, every feint, on the chance that the noise will startle opponent out of timing, or into rocking back, and thus gain a point. I had last fallen for it before I could shave.

But his words gave me an idea. His lunges were short–full extension is fancy play for foils, too dangerous for real work. But I had been retreating, slowly, with the wall behind me. Shortly, when he re-engaged, I would either be a butterfly pinned to that wall, or stumble over something unseen, go arsy-versy, then spiked like wastepaper in the park. I didn’t dare leave that wall behind me.

Worst, Star would be coming out of that rat hole behind me any moment now and might be killed as she emerged even if I managed to kill him at the same time. But if I could turn him around–My beloved was a practical woman; no “sportsmanship” would keep her steel stinger out of his back.

But the happy counter-thought was that if I went along with his madness, tried to rhyme and sing, he might play me along, amused to hear what I could do, before he killed me.

But I couldn’t afford to stretch it out. Unfelt, he had pinked me in the forearm. Just a bloody scratch that Star could make good as new in minutes–but it would weaken my wrist before long and it disadvantaged me for low line: Blood makes a slippery grip.

“First stanza,” I announced, advancing and barely engaging, foible-a-foible. He respected it, not attacking, playing with the end of my blade, tiny counters and leather-touch parries.

That was what I wanted. I started circling right as I began to recite–and he let me:

“Tweedledum and Tweedledee

“Agreed to rustle cattle.

“Said Tweedledum to Tweedledee

“I’ll use my nice new saddle.”

“Come, come, my old!” he said chidingly. “No stealing. Honor among beeves, always. And rhyme and scansion limp. Let your Carroll fall trippingly off the tongue.”

“I’ll try,” I agreed, still moving right. “Second stanza-

“I sing of two lasses in Birmingham,

“Shall we weep at the scandal concerning them?”-

–and I rushed him.

It didn’t quite work. He had, as I hoped, relaxed the tiniest bit, evidently expecting that I would go on with mock play, tips of Hades alone, while I was reciting.

It caught him barely off guard but he failed to fall back, parrying strongly instead and suddenly we were in an untenable position, corps-a-corps, forte-a-forte, almost tete-a-tete.

He laughed in my face and sprang back as I did, landing us back en garde. But I added something. We had been fencing point only. The point is mightier than the edge but my weapon had both and a man
used to the point is sometimes a sucker for a cut. As we separated I flipped my blade at his head.

I meant to split it open. No time for that, no force behind it, but it sliced his right forehead almost to
eyebrow. “Touche” he shouted. “Well struck. And well sung. Let’s have the rest of it.”

“All right,” I agreed, fencing cautiously and waiting for blood to run into his eyes. A scalp wound is the bloodiest of flesh wounds and I had great hopes for this one. And swordplay is an odd thing; you don’t really use your mind, it is much too fast for that. Your wrist thinks and tells your feet and body what to do, bypassing your brain–any thinking you do is for later, stored instructions, like a programmed computer.

I went on:

“They’re now in the dock
“For lifting the–”

No help to me–A right-handed fencer hates to take on a southpaw; it throws everything out of balance, whereas a southpaw is used to the foibles of the right-handed majority–and this son of a witch was just as strong, just as skilled, with his left hand. Worse, he now had toward me the eye undimmed by blood.

He pinked me again, in the kneecap, hurting like fire and slowing me. Despite his wounds, much worse than mine, I knew I couldn’t go on much longer. We settled down to grim work.

There is a riposte in seconde, desperately dangerous but brilliant–if you bring it off. It had won me several matches in 6pee with nothing at stake but a score. It starts from sixte; first your opponent counters. Instead of parrying to carte, you press and bind, sliding all the way down and around his blade and corkscrewing in till your point finds flesh. Or you can beat, counter, and bind, starting from sixte, thus setting it off yourself.

Its shortcoming is that, unless it is done perfectly, it is too late for parry and riposte; you run your own chest against his point.

I didn’t try to initiate it, not against this swordsman; I just thought about it.

We continued to fence, perfectly each of us. Then he stepped back slightly while countering and barely
skidded in his own blood.

My wrist took charge; I corkscrewed in with a perfect bind to seconde–and my blade went through his body. He looked surprised, brought his bell up in salute, and crumpled at the knees as the grip fell from his hand. I had to move forward with my blade as he fell, then started to pull it out of him.

He grasped it. “No, no, my friend, please leave it there. It corks the wine, for a time. Your logic is sharp and touches my heart. Your name, sir?”

“Oscar of Gordon.”

“A good name. One should never be killed by a stranger. Tell me, Oscar of Gordon, have you seen Carcassonne?”

“No.”

“See it. Love a lass, kill a man, write a book, fly to the Moon–I have done all these.” He gasped and foam came out of his mouth, pink. “I’ve even had a house fall on me. What devastating wit! What price honor when timber taps thy top? ‘Top?’ tap? taupe, tape–tonsor! –when timber taps thy tonsor. You shaved mine.”

He choked and went on: “It grows dark. Let us exchange gifts and part friends, if you will. My gift first, in two parts: Item: You are lucky, you shall not die in bed.”

“I guess not.”

“Please. Item: Friar Guillaume’s razor ne’er shaved the barber, it is much too dull. And now your gift, my old–and be quick, I need it. But first–now did that limerick end?”

I told him. He said, very weakly, almost in rattle, “Very good. Keep trying. Now grant me your gift, I am more than ready.” He tried to Sign himself.

So I granted him grace, stood wearily up, went to the bench and collapsed on it, then cleaned both blades, first wiping the little Solingen, then most carefully grooming the Lady Vivamus. I managed to stand and salute him with a clean sword. It had been an honor to know him.

I was sorry I hadn’t asked him his name. He seemed to think I knew it.

I sat heavily down and looked at the arras covering the rat hole at the end of the room and wondered why Star and Rufo hadn’t come out. All that clashing steel and talk–I thought about walking over and shouting for them. But I was too weary to move just yet. I sighed and closed my eyes-

Through sheer boyish high spirits (and carelessness I had been chided for, time and again) I had broken a dozen eggs. My mother looked down at the mess and I could see that she was about to cry. So I clouded up too. She stopped her tears, took me gently by the shoulder, and said, “It’s all right, son. Eggs aren’t that important.” But I was ashamed, so I twisted away and ran.

Downhill I ran, heedless and almost flying–then was shockingly aware that I was at the wheel and the car was out of control. I groped for the brake pedal, couldn’t find it and felt panic . . . then did find it–and felt it sink with that mushiness that means you’ve lost brake-fluid pressure. Something ahead in the road and I couldn’t see. Couldn’t even turn my head and my eyes were clouded with something running down into them. I twisted the wheel and nothing happened–radius rod gone.

Screams in my car as we hit! –and I woke up in bed with a jerk and the screams were my own. I was going to be late to school, disgrace not to be borne. Never born, agony shameful, for the schoolyard was empty; the other kids, scrubbed and virtuous, were in their seats and I couldn’t find my classroom. Hadn’t even had time to go to the bathroom and here I was at my desk with my pants down about to do what I had been too hurried to do before I left home and all the other kids had their hands up but teacher was calling on me. I couldn’t stand up to recite; my pants were not only down I didn’t have any on at all if I stood up they would see it the boys would laugh at me the girls would giggle and look away and tilt their noses. But the unbearable disgrace was that I didn’t know the answer!

“Come, come!” my teacher said sharply. “Don’t waste the class’s time, E.G. You Haven’t Studied Your Lesson.”

Well, no, I hadn’t. Yes, I had, but she had written “Problems 1-6” on the blackboard and I had taken that as “1 and 6”–and this was number 4. But She would never believe me; the excuse was too thin. We pay off on touchdowns, not excuses.

“That’s how it is, Easy,” my Coach went on, his voice more in sorrow than in anger. “Yardage is all very well but you don’t make a nickel unless you cross that old goal line with the egg tucked underneath your arm.” He pointed at the football on his desk. “There it is. I had it gilded and lettered clear back at the beginning of the season, you looked so good and I had so much confidence in you–it was meant to be yours at the end of the season, at a victory banquet.” His brow wrinkled and he spoke as if trying to be fair. “I won’t say you could have saved things all by yourself. But you do take things too easy. Easy–maybe you need another name. When the road gets rough, you could try harder.” He sighed. “My fault, I should have cracked down. Instead, I tried to be a father to you. But I want you to know you aren’t the only one who loses by this–at my age it’s not easy to find a new job.”

I pulled the covers up over my head; I couldn’t stand to look at him. But they wouldn’t let me alone; somebody started shaking my shoulder. “Gordon!”

“Le’me ‘lone!”

“Wake up, Gordon, and get your ass inside. You’re in trouble.”

I certainly was, I could tell that as soon as I stepped into the office. There was a sour taste of vomit in my mouth and I felt awful–as if a herd of buffaloes had walked over me, stepping on me here and there. Dirty ones.

The First Sergeant didn’t look at me when I came in; he let me stand and sweat first. When he did look up, he examined me up and down before speaking.

Then he spoke slowly, letting me taste each word. “Absent Over Leave, terrorizing and insulting native women, unauthorized use of government property . . . scandalous conduct . . . insubordinate and obscene language . . . resisting arrest . . . striking an M.P.–Gordon, why didn’t you steal a horse? We hang horse thieves in these parts. It would make it all so much simpler.”

He smiled at his own wit. The old bastard always had thought he was a wit. He was half right.

But I didn’t give a damn what he said. I realized dully that it had all been a dream, just another of those dreams I had had too often lately, wanting to get out of this aching jungle. Even She hadn’t been real. My–what was her name? –even her name I had made up. Star. My Lucky Star–Oh, Star, my darling, you aren’t!

He went on: “I see you took off your chevrons. Well, that saves time but that’s the only thing good about it. Out of uniform. No shave. And your clothes are filthy! Gordon, you are a disgrace to the Army of the United States. You know that, don’t you? And you can’t sing your way out of this one. No I.D. on you, no pass, using a name not your own. Well, Evelyn Cyril my fine lad, we’ll use your right name now. Officially.”

He swung around in his swivel chair–he hadn’t had his fat ass out of it since they sent him to Asia, no patrols for him. “Just one thing I’m curious about. Where did you get that? And whatever possessed you to try to steal it?” He nodded at a file case behind his desk.

I recognized what was sitting on it, even though it had been painted with gold gilt the last time I recalled seeing it whereas now it was covered with the special black gluey mud they grow in Southeast Asia. I started toward it. “That’s mine!”

“No, no!” he said sharply. “Burny, burny, boy.” He moved the football farther back. “Stealing it doesn’t make it yours. I’ve taken charge of it as evidence. For your information, you phony hero, the docs think he’s going to die.”

“Who?”

“Why should you care who? Two bits to a Bangkok tickul you didn’t know his name when you clobbered him. You can’t go around clobbering natives just because you’re feeling brisk–they’ve got rights, maybe you hadn’t heard. You’re supposed to clobber them only when and where you are told to.”

Suddenly he smiled. It didn’t improve him. With his long, sharp nose and his little bloodshot eyes I suddenly realized how much he looked like a rat.

But he went on smiling and said, “Evelyn my boy, maybe you took off those chevrons too soon.”

“Huh?”

“Yes. There may be a way out of this mess. Sit down.” He repeated sharply, ” ‘Sit down,’ I said. If I had my way we’d simply Section-Eight you and forget you–anything to get rid of you. But the Company Commander has other ideas–a really brilliant idea that could close your whole file. There’s a raid planned for tonight. So”–he leaned over, got a bottle of Four Roses and two cups out of his desk, poured two drinks–“have a drink.”

Everybody knew about that bottle–everybody but the Company Commander, maybe. But the top sergeant had never been known to offer anyone a drink–save one time when he had followed it by telling his victim that he was being recommended for a general court-martial.

“No, thanks.”

“Come on, take it. Hair of the dog. You’re going to need it. Then go take a shower and get yourself looking decent even if you aren’t, before you see the Company Commander.”

I stood up. I wanted that drink, I needed it. I would have settled for the worst rotgut–and Four Roses is pretty smooth–but I would have settled for the firewater old–what was his name? –had used to burst my eardrums.

But I didn’t want to drink with him. I should not drink anything at all here. Nor eat any-

I spat in his face.

He looked utterly shocked and started to melt. I drew my sword and had at him.

It got dark but I kept on laying about me, sometimes connecting, sometimes not.

Chapter 16

Someone was shaking my shoulder. “Wake up!”

“Le’me lone!”

“You’ve got to wake up. Boss, please wake up.”

“Yes, my Hero–please!”

I opened my eyes, smiled at her, then tried to look around. Kee-ripes, what a shambles! In the middle of it, close to me, was a black glass pillar, thick and about five feet high. On top was the Egg. “Is that it?”

“Yep!” agreed Rufo. “That’s it! He looked battered but gay.

“Yes, my Hero champion,” Star confirmed, “that is the true Egg of the Phoenix. I have tested.”

“Uh–” I looked around. “Then where’s old Soul-Eater?”

“You killed it. Before we got here. You still had sword in hand and the Egg tucked tightly under your left arm. We had much trouble getting them loose so that I could work on you.” I looked down my front, saw what she meant, and looked away. Red just isn’t my color. To take my mind off surgery I said to Rufo, “What took you so long?”

Star answered, “I thought we would never find you!”

“How did you find me?”

Rufo said, “Boss, we couldn’t exactly lose you. We simply followed your trail of blood–even when it dead-ended into blank walls. She is stubborn.”

“Uh . . . see any dead men?”

“Three or four. Strangers, no business of ours. Constructs, most likely. We didn’t dally.” He added,

“And we won’t dally getting out, either, once you’re patched up enough to walk. Time is short.”

I flexed my right knee, cautiously. It still hurt where I had been pinked on the kneecap, but what Star had done was taking the soreness out. “My legs are all right. I’ll be able to walk as soon as Star is through. But”–I frowned–“I don’t relish going through that rat tunnel again. Rats give me the willies.”

“What rats, Boss? In which tunnel?”

So I told him.

Star made no comment. Just went on plastering me and sticking on dressings. Rufo said, “Boss, you did get down on your knees and crawl–in a passage just like all the others. I couldn’t see any sense to it but you had proved that you knew what you were doing, so we didn’t argue, we did it. When you told us to wait while you scouted, we did that, too–until we had waited a long time and She decided that we had better try to find you.”

I let it drop.

We left almost at once, going out the “front” way and had no trouble, no illusions, no traps, nothing but the fact that the “true path” was long and tedious. Rufo and I stayed alert, same formation, with Star in the middle carrying the Egg.

Neither Star nor Rufo knew whether we were still likely to be attacked, nor could we have held off

anything stronger than a Cub Scout pack. Only Rufo could bend a bow and I could no longer wield a sword. However, the single necessity was to give Star time to destroy the Egg rather than let it be captured. “But that’s nothing to worry about,” Rufo assured me. “About like being at ground-zero with an A-weapon. You’ll never notice it.”

Once we were outside it was a longish hike to the Grotto Hills and the other Gate. We lunched as we hiked–I was terribly hungry–and shared Rufo’s brandy and Stars water without too much water. I felt pretty good by the time we reached the cave of this Gate; I didn’t even mind sky that wasn’t sky but some sort of roof, nor the odd shifts in gravitation.

A diagram or “pentacle” was already in this cave. Star had only to freshen it, then we waited a bit–that had been the rush, to get there before that “Gate” could be opened; it wouldn’t be available for weeks or perhaps months thereafter–much too long for any human to live in Karth-Hokesh.

We were in position a few minutes early. I was dressed like the Warlord of Mars–just me and sword belt and sword. We all lightened ship to the limit as Star was tired and pulling live things through would be strain enough. Star wanted to save my pet longbow but I vetoed it. She did insist that I keep the Lady Vivamus and I didn’t argue very hard; I didn’t want ever to be separated from my sword again. She touched it and told me that it was not dead metal, but now part of me.

Rufo wore only his unpretty pink skin, plus dressings; his attitude was that a sword was a sword and he had better ones at home. Star was, for professional reasons, wearing no more.

“How long?” asked Rufo, as we joined hands.

“Count down is minus two minutes,” she answered. The clock in Star’s head is as accurate as my bump of direction. She never used a watch.

“You’ve told him?” said Rufo.

“No.”

Rufo said, “Haven’t you any shame? Don’t you think you’ve conned him long enough?” He spoke with surprising roughness and I was about to tell him that he must not speak to her that way. But Star cut him off.

“QUIET!” She began to chant. Then–“Now!”

Suddenly it was a different cave. “Where are we?” I asked. I felt heavier.

“On Nevia’s planet,” Rufo answered. “Other side of the Eternal Peaks–and I’ve got a good mind to get off and see Jocko.”

“Do it,” Star said angrily. “You talk too much.”

“Only if my pal Oscar comes along. Want to, old comrade? I can get us there, take about a week. No dragons. They’ll be glad to see you–especially Muri.”

“You leave Muri out of this!” Star was actually shrill.

“Can’t take it, huh?” he said sourly. “Younger woman and all that.”

“You know that’s not it!”

“Oh, how very much it is!” he retorted. “And how long do you think you can get away with it? It’s not fair, it never was fair. It–”

“Silence! Count down right now!” We joined hands again and whambo! we were in another place.

This was still another cave with one side partly open to the outdoors; the air was very thin and bitterly cold and snow had sifted in. The diagram was let into rock in raw gold. “Where is this?” I wanted to know.

“On your planet,” Star answered. “A place called Tibet.”

“And you could change trains here,” Rufo added, “if She weren’t so stubborn. Or you could walk out–although it’s a long, tough walk; I did it once.” I wasn’t tempted. The last I had heard, Tibet was in the hands of unfriendly peace-lovers. “Will we be here long?” I asked. “This place needs central heating.” I wanted to hear anything but more argument. Star was my beloved and I couldn’t stand by and hear anyone be rude to her–but Rufo was my blood brother by much lost blood; I owed my life to him several times over.

“Not long,” answered Star. She looked drawn and tired. “But time enough to get this straightened out,” added Rufo, “so that you can make up your own mind and not be carried around like a cat in a sack. She should have told you long since. She–”

“Positions!” snapped Star. “Count down coming up. Rufo, if you don’t shut up, I’ll leave you here and let you walk out again–in deep snow barefooted to your chin.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Threats make me as stubborn as you are. Which is surprising. Oscar, She is–” “SILENCE!”

“–Empress of the Twenty Universes–“

Chapter 17

We were in a large octagonal room, with lavishly beautiful silvery walls.
“–and my grandmother,” Rufo finished.

Not ‘Empress,’ ” Star protested. “That’s a silly word for it.”

“Near enough.” “And as for the other, that’s my misfortune, not my fault.” Star jumped to her feet, no longer looking tired, and put one arm around my waist as I got up, while she held the Egg of the Phoenix with the other.

“Oh, darling I’m so happy! We made it! Welcome home, my Hero!”

“Where?” I was sluggy–too many time zones, too many ideas, too fast.

“Home. My home. Your home now–if you’ll have it. Our home.”

“Uh, I see . . . my Empress.” She stomped her foot. “Don’t call me that!”

“The proper form of address,” said Rufo, “is ‘Your Wisdom.’ Isn’t it, Your Wisdom?”

“Oh, Rufo, shut up. Go fetch clothes for us.”

He shook his head. “War’s over and I just got paid off. Fetch ’em yourself. Granny.”

“Rufo, you’re impossible.”

“Sore at me, Granny?”

“I will be if you don’t stop calling me ‘Granny.’ ” Suddenly she handed the Egg to me, put her arms around Rufo and kissed him. “No, Granny’s not sore at you,” she said softly. “You always were a naughty child and I’ll never quite forget the time you put oysters in my bed. But I guess you came by it honestly–from your grandmother.” She kissed him again and mussed his fringe of white hair. “Granny loves you. Granny always will. Next to Oscar, I think you are about perfect–aside from being an unbearable, untruthful, spoiled, disobedient, disrespectful brat.”

“That’s better,” he said. “Come to think of it, I feel the same way about you. What do you want to wear?”

“Mmm . . . get out a lot of things. It’s been so long since I had a decent wardrobe.” She turned back to me. “What would you like to wear, my Hero?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Whatever you think is appropriate–Your Wisdom.”

“Oh, darling, please don’t call me that. Not ever.” She seemed suddenly about to cry.

“All right. What shall I call you?”

“Star is the name you gave me. If you must call me something else, you could call me your ‘princess.’ I’m not a princess–and I’m not an ’empress’ either; that’s a poor translation. But I like being ‘your princess’–the way you say it. Or it can be ‘lively wench’ or any of lots of things you’ve been calling me.” She looked up at me very soberly. “Just like before. Forever.”

“I’ll try . . . my princess.”

“My Hero.”

“But there seems to be a lot I don’t know.”

She shifted from English to Nevian. “Milord husband, I wished to tell all. I sighed to tell you. And milord will be told everything. But I held mortal fear that milord, if told too soon, would refuse to come with me. Not to the Black Tower, but to here. Our home.”

“Perhaps you chanced wisely,” I answered in the same language. “But I am here, milady wife–my princess. So tell me. I wish it.”

She shifted back to English. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk. But it will take time. Darling, will you hold your horses just a bit longer? Having been patient with me–so very patient, my love! –for so long?”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll string along. But, look, I don’t know the streets in this neighborhood, I’ll need some hints. Remember the mistake I made with old Jocko just from not knowing local customs.”

“Yes, dear, I will. But don’t worry, customs are simple here. Primitive societies are always more complex than civilized ones–and this one isn’t primitive.” Rufo dumped then a great heap of clothing at her feet. She turned away, a hand still on my arm, put a finger to her mouth with a very intent, almost worried look. “Now let me see. What shall I wear?”

“Complex” is a relative matter; I’ll sketch only the outlines.

Center is the capital planet of the Twenty Universes. But Star was not “Empress” and it is not an empire.

I’ll go on calling her “Star” as hundreds of names were hers and I’ll call it an “empire” because no other word is close, and I’ll refer to “emperors” and “empresses”–and to the Empress, my wife.

Nobody knows how many universes there are. Theory places no limit: any and all possibilities in unlimited number of combinations of “natural” laws, each sheaf appropriate to its own universe. But this is just theory and Occam’s Razor is much too dull. All that is known in Twenty Universes is that twenty have been discovered, that each has its own laws, and that most of them have planets, or sometimes “places,” where human beings live. I won’t try to say what lives elsewhere.

The Twenty Universes include many real empires. Our Galaxy in our universe has its stellar empires–yet so huge is our Galaxy that our human race may never meet another, save through the Gates that link the universes. Some planets have no known Gates. Earth has many and that is its single importance; otherwise it rates as a backward slum.

Seven thousand years ago a notion was born for coping with political problems too big to handle. It was modest at first: How could a planet be run without ruining it? This planet’s people included expert cyberneticists but otherwise were hardly farther along than we are; they were still burning the barn to get
the rats and catching their thumbs in machinery. These experimenters picked an outstanding ruler and tried to help him.

Nobody knew why this bloke was so successful but he was and that was enough; they weren’t hipped on theory. They gave him cybernetic help, taping for him all crises in their history, all known details, what was done, and the outcomes of each, all organized so that he could consult it almost as you consult your memory.

It worked. In time he was supervising the whole planet–Center it was, with another name then. He didn’t rule it, he just untangled hard cases.

They taped also everything this first “Emperor” did, good and bad, for guidance of his successor.

The Egg of the Phoenix is a cybernetic record of the experiences of two hundred and three “emperors” and “empresses,” most of whom “ruled” all the known universes. Like a foldbox, it is bigger inside than out. In use, it is more the size of the Great Pyramid.

Phoenix legends abound throughout the Universes: the creature that dies but is immortal, rising ever young from its own ashes. The Egg is such a wonder, for it is far more than a taped library now; it is a print, right down to their unique personalities, of all experience of all that line from His Wisdom IX through Her Wisdom CCIV, Mrs. Oscar Gordon.

The office is not hereditary. Star’s ancestors include His Wisdom I and most of the other wisdoms–but millions of others have as much “royal” blood. Her grandson Rufo was not picked although he shares all her ancestors. Or perhaps he turned it down. I never asked, it would have reminded him of a time one of his uncles did something obscene and improbable. Nor is it a question one asks.

Once tapped, a candidate’s education includes everything from how to cook tripe to highest mathematics–including all forms of personal combat for it was realized millennia ago that, no matter how well he was guarded, the victim would wear better if he himself could fight like an angry buzz saw. I stumbled on this through asking my beloved an awkward question.

I was still trying to get used to the fact that I had married, a grandmother, whose grandson looked older than I did and was even older than he looked. The people of Center live longer than we do anyway and both Star and Rufo had received “Long-Life” treatment. This takes getting used to. I asked Star, “How long do you ‘wisdoms’ live?”

“Not too long,” she answered almost harshly. “Usually we are assassinated.”

(My big mouth–)

A candidate’s training includes travel in many worlds–not all planets-places inhabited by human beings; nobody lives that long. But many. After a candidate completes all this and if selected as heir, postgraduate work begins: the Egg itself. The heir has imprinted in him (her) the memories, the very personalities, of past emperors. He (She) becomes an integration of them. Star-Plus. A supernova. Her Wisdom.

The living personality is dominant but all that mob is there, too. Without using the Egg, Star could recall experiences that happened to people dead many centuries. With the Egg–herself hooked into the cybernet–she had seven thousand years of sharp, just-yesterday memories.

Star admitted to me that she had hesitated ten years before accepting the nomination. She hadn’t wanted to be all those people; she had wanted to go on being herself, living as she pleased. But the methods used to pick candidates (I don’t know them, they are lodged in the Egg) seem almost infallible; only three have ever refused.

When Star became Empress she had barely started the second half of her training, having had imprinted in her only seven of her predecessors. Imprinting does not take long but the victim needs recovery time between prints–for she gets every damned thing that ever happened to him, bad and good: the time he was cruel to a pet as a child and his recalled shame of it in his mature years, the loss of his virginity, the unbearably tragic time that he goofed a really serious one–all of it.

“I must experience their mistakes,” Star told me. “Mistakes are the only certain way to learn.”

So the whole weary structure is based on subjecting one person to all the miserable errors of seven thousand years.

Mercifully the Egg doesn’t have to be used often. Most of the time Star could be herself, no more bothered by imprinted memories than you are over that nasty remark in second grade. Most problems Star could solve shooting from the hip–no recourse to the Black Room and a full hookup.

For the one thing that stood out as this empirical way of running an empire grew up was that the answer to most problems was: Don’t do anything.

Always King Log, never King Stork–“Live and let live.” “Let well enough alone.” “Time is the best physician.” “Let sleeping dogs lie.” “Leave them alone and they’ll come home, wagging their tails behind them.”

Even positive edicts of the Imperium were usually negative in form: Thou Shalt Not Blow Up Thy Neighbors’ Planet. (Blow your own if you wish.) Hands off the guardians of the Gates. Don’t demand justice, you too will be judged.

Above all, don’t put serious problems to a popular vote. Oh, there is no rule against local democracy, just in imperial matters. Old Rufo–excuse me; Doctor Rufo, a most distinguished comparative culturologist (with a low taste for slumming)–Rufo told me that every human race tries every political form and that democracy is used in. many primitive societies . . . but he didn’t know of any civilized planet using it, as Vox Populi, Vox Dei translates as: “My God! How did we get in this mess!”

But Rufo claimed to enjoy democracy–any time he felt depressed he sampled Washington, and the antics of the French Parliament were second only to the antics of French women.

I asked him how advanced societies ran things.

His brow wrinkled. “Mostly they don’t.”

That described the Empress of Twenty Universes: Mostly she didn’t.

But sometimes she did. She might say: “This mess will clear up if you will take that troublemaker there–What’s your name? You with the goatee–out and shoot him. Do it now.” (I was present. They did it now. He was head of the delegation which had brought the problem to her–some fuss between intergalactic trading empires in the VIIth Universe–and his chief deputy pinned his arms and his own delegates dragged him outside and killed him. Star went on drinking coffee. It’s better coffee than we get back home and I was so upset that I poured myself a cup.)

An Emperor has no power. Yet, if Star decided that a certain planet should be removed, people would get busy and there would be a nova in that sky. Star has never done this but it has been done in the past. Not often–His Wisdom will search his soul (and the Egg) a long time before decreeing anything so final even when his hypertrophied horse sense tells him that there is no other solution.

The Emperor is sole source of Imperial law, sole judge, sole executive–and does very little and has no way to enforce his rulings. What he or she does have is enormous prestige from a system that has worked for seven millennia. This non-system holds together by having no togetherness, no uniformity,

never seeking perfection, no Utopias–just answers good enough to get by, with lots of looseness and room for many ways and attitudes.

Local affairs are local. Infanticide? –they’re your babies, your planet. PTAs, movie censorship, disaster relief–the Empire is ponderously unhelpful.

The Crisis of the Egg started long before I was born. His Wisdom CCIII was assassinated and the Egg stolen at the same time. Some baddies wanted power–and the Egg, by its unique resources, has latent in it key to such power as Genghis Khan never dreamed.

Why should anybody want power? I can’t understand it. But some do, and they did.

So Star came to office hall-trained, faced by the greatest crisis the Empire had ever suffered, and cut off from her storehouse of Wisdom.

But not helpless. Imprinted in her was the experience of seven hypersensible men and she had all the cyber-computer system save that unique part known as the Egg. First she had to find out what had been done with the Egg. It wasn’t safe to mount an attack on the planet of the baddies; it might destroy the Egg.

Available were ways to make a man talk if one didn’t mind using him up. Star didn’t mind. I don’t mean anything so crude as rack and tongs. This was more like peeling an onion, and they peeled several.

Karth-Hokesh is so deadly that it was named for the only explorers to visit it and come back alive. (We were in a “garden subdivision,” the rest is much worse.) The baddies made no attempt to stay there; they just cached the Egg and set guards and booby traps around it and on the routes to it.

I asked Rufo, “What use was the Egg there?”

“None,” he agreed. “But they soon learned that it was no use anywhere–without Her. They needed either its staff of cyberneticists . . . or they needed Her Wisdom. They couldn’t open the Egg. She is the only one who can do that unassisted. So they baited a trap for Her. Capture Her Wisdom, or kill Her–capture by preference, kill Her if need be and then try for key people here at Center. But they didn’t dare risk the second while She was alive.”

Star started a search to determine the best chance of recovering the Egg. Invade Karth-Hokesh? The machines said, “Hell, no!” I would say no, too. How do you mount an invasion into a place where a man not only can’t eat or drink anything local but can’t breathe the air more than a few hours? When a massive assault will destroy what you are after? When your beachheads are two limited Gates?

The computers kept coming up with a silly answer, no matter how the question was framed.

Me.

A “Hero,” that is–a man with a strong back, a weak mind, and a high regard for his own skin. Plus other traits. A raid by a thus-and-so man, if aided by Star herself, might succeed. Rufo was added by a hunch Star had (hunches of Their Wisdoms being equal to strokes of genius) and the machines confirmed this. “I was drafted,” said Rufo. “So I refused. But I never have had any sense where She is concerned, damn it; She spoiled me when I was a kid.”

There followed years of search for the specified man. (Me, again–I’ll never know why.) Meanwhile brave men were feeling out the situation and, eventually, mapping the Tower. Star herself reconnoitered, and got acquainted in Nevia, too.

(Is Nevia part of the “Empire?” It is and it isn’t. Nevia’s planet has the only Gates to Karth-Hokesh other than one from the planet of the baddies; that is its importance to the Empire–and the Empire isn’t important to Nevia at all.)

This “Hero” was most likely to be found on a barbaric planet such as Earth. Star checked, and turned down, endless candidates winnowed from many rough peoples before her nose told her that I might do.

I asked Rufo what chance the machines gave us.

“What makes you say that?” he demanded.

“Well, I know a little of cybernetics.”

“You think you do. Still–There was a prediction. Thirteen percent success, seventeen percent no game–and seventy percent death for us all.”

I whistled. “You should whistle!” he said indignantly. “You didn’t know any more than a cavalry horse knows. You had nothing to be scared of.”

“I was scared.”

“You didn’t have time to be. It was planned so. Our one chance lay in reckless speed and utter surprise. But I knew. Son, when you told us to wait, there in the Tower, and disappeared and didn’t come back, why, I was so scared I caught up on my regretting.”

Once set up, the raid happened as I told it. Or pretty much so, although I may have seen what my mind could accept rather than exactly what happened. I mean “magic.” How many times have savages concluded “magic” when a “civilized” man came along with something the savage couldn’t understand? How often is some tag, such as “television,” accepted by cultural savages (who nevertheless twist dials) when “magic” would be the honest word?

Still, Star never insisted on that word. She accepted it when I insisted on it.

But I would be disappointed if everything I saw turned out to be something Western Electric will build once Bell Labs works the bugs out. There ought to be some magic, somewhere, just for flavor.

Oh, yes, putting me to sleep for the first transition was to keep from scaring a savage silly. Nor did the “black biers” cross over–that was posthypnotic suggestion, by an expert: my wife.

Did I say what happened to the baddies? Nothing. Their Gates were destroyed; they are isolated until they develop star travel. Good enough, by the sloppy standards of the Empire. Their Wisdoms never carry grudges.

Chapter 18

Center is a lovely planet, Earth-like but lacking Earth’s faults. It has been retailored over millennia to make it a Never-Never Land. Desert and snow and jungle were saved enough for pleasure; floods and other disasters were engineered out of existence.

It is uncrowded but has a large population for its size–that of Mars but with oceans. Surface gravity is almost that of Earth. (A higher constant, I understand.) About half the population is transient, as its great beauty and unique cultural assets–focus of twenty universes–make it a tourist’s paradise. Everything is done for the comfort of visitors with an all-out thoroughness like that of the Swiss but with technology not known on Earth.

Star and I had residences a dozen places around the planet (and endless others in other universes); they ranged from palaces to a tiny fishing lodge where Star did her own cooking. Mostly we lived in apartments to an artificial mountain that housed the Egg and its staff; adjacent were halls, conference rooms, secretariat, etc. If Star felt like working she wanted such things at hand. But a system ambassador or visiting emperor of a hundred systems had as much chance of being invited into our private home as a hobo at the back door of a Beverly Hills mansion has of being invited into the drawing room.

But if Star happened to like him, she might fetch him home for a midnight snack. She did that once–a funny little leprechaun with four arms and a habit of tap-dancing his gestures. But she did no official entertaining and felt no obligation to attend social affairs. She did not hold press conferences, make speeches, receive delegations of Girl Scouts, lay cornerstones, proclaim special “Days,” make ceremonial appearances, sign papers, deny rumors, nor any of the time-gnawing things that sovereigns and VIPs do on Earth.

She consulted individuals, often summoning them from other universes, and she had at her disposal all the news from everywhere, organized in a system that had been developed over centuries. It was through this system that she decided what problems to consider. One chronic complaint was that the Imperium ignored “vital questions”–and so it did. Her Wisdom passed judgment only on problems she selected; the bedrock of the system was that most problems solved themselves.

We often went to social events; we both enjoyed parties and, for Her Wisdom and Consort, there was endless choice. There was one negative protocol: Star neither accepted nor regretted invitations, showed up when she pleased and refused to be fussed over. This was a drastic change for capital society as her predecessor had imosed protocol more formal than that of the Vatican.

One hostess complained to me about how dull society had become under the new rules–maybe I could do something?

I did. I looked up Star and told her the remark whereupon we left and joined a drunken artists’ ball–a luau!

Center is such a hash of cultures, races, customs, and styles that it has few rules. The one invariant custom was: Don’t impose your customs on me. People wore what they did at home, or experimented with other styles; any social affair looked like a free-choice costume ball. A guest could show up at a swank party stark naked without causing talk–and some did, a small minority. I don’t mean non-humans or hirsute humans; clothes are not for them. I mean humans who would look at home in New York in American clothes–and others who would attract notice even in l’Ile du Levant because they have no hair at all, not even eyebrows. This is a source of pride to them; it shows their “superiority” to us hairy apes,

they are as proud as a Georgia cracker is of his deficiency in melanin. So they go naked oftener than other human races. I found their appearance startling but one gets used to it.

Star wore clothes outside our home, so I did. Star would never miss a chance to dress up, an endearing weakness that made it possible to forget, at times, her Imperial status. She never dressed twice alike and was ever trying something new–and disappointed if I didn’t notice. Some of her choices would cause heart failure even on a Riviera beach. She believed that a woman’s costume was a failure unless it made men want to tear it off.

One of Star’s most effective outfits was the simplest. Rufo happened to be with us and she got a sudden notion to dress as we had on the Quest of the Egg–and biff, bang, costumes were available, or manufactured to order, as may be; Nevian clothes are most uncommon in Center.

Bows, arrows, and quivers were produced with the same speed and Merry Men were we. It made me feel good to buckle on the Lady Vivamus; she had been hanging untouched on a wall of my study ever since the great black Tower.

Star stood, feet planted wide, fists on hips, head thrown back, eyes bright, and cheeks flushed. “Oh, this is fun! I feel good, I feel young! Darling, promise me, promise me truly, that someday we will again go on an adventure! I get so damn sick of being sensible.”

She spoke English, as the language of Center is ill suited to such ideas. It’s a pidgin language with thousands of years of imports and changes and is uninflected, positional, and flat.

“Suits,” I agreed. “How about it, Rufo? Want to walk that Glory Road?”

“After they pave it.”

“Guff. You’ll come, I know you. Where and when, Star? Never mind ‘where’–just ‘when.’ Skip the party and start right now!”

Suddenly she was not merry. “Darling, you know I can’t. I’m less than a third of the way through my training.”

“I should have busted that Egg when I found it.”

“Don’t be cross, darling. Let’s go to the party and have fun.”

We did. Travel on Center is by apports, artificial “Gates” that require no “magic” (or perhaps still more); one sets destination like punching buttons in an elevator, so there is no traffic problem in cities–nor a thousand other unpleasant things; they don’t let the bones show in their cities. Tonight Star chose to get off short of destination, swagger through a park, and make an entrance. She knows how well tights suit her long legs and solid buttocks; she rolled her hips like a Hindu woman.

Folks, we were a sensation! Swords aren’t worn in Center, save possibly by visitors. Bows and arrows are hen’s teeth, too. We were as conspicuous as a knight in armor on Fifth Avenue.

Star was as happy as a kid playing trick-or-treat. So was I. I felt two axe handles across the shoulders and wanted to hunt dragons.

It was a ball not unlike one on Earth. (According to Rufo, all our races everywhere have the same basic entertainment: get together in mobs to dance, drink, and gossip. He claimed that the stag affair and the hen party are symptoms of a sick culture. I won’t argue.) We swaggered down a grand staircase, music stopped, people stared and gasped–and Star enjoyed being noticed. Musicians got raggedly back to work and guests went back to the negative politeness the Empress usually demanded. But we still got attention. I had thought that the story of the Quest of the Egg was a state secret as I had never heard it mentioned. But, even if known, I still would have expected the details to be known only to us three.

Not so. Everyone knew what those costumes meant, and more. I was at the buffet, sopping up brandy and a Dagwood of my own invention, when I was cornered by Schherazade’s sister, the pretty one. She was of one of the human-but-not-like-us races. She was dressed in rubies the size of your thumb and reasonably opaque cloth. She stood about five-five, barefooted, weighed maybe one twenty and her waist couldn’t have been over fifteen inches, which exaggerated two other measurements that did not need it. She was brunette, with the slantiest eyes I’ve ever seen. She looked like a beautiful cat and looked at me the way a cat looks at a bird.

“Self,” she announced.

“Speak.”

“Sverlani. World–” (Name and code–I had never heard of it.) “Student food designer, mathematicosybaritic.”

“Oscar Gordon. Earth. Soldier.” I omitted the I.D. for Earth; she knew who I was.

“Questions?”

“Ask.”

“Is sword?”

“Is.”

She looked at it and her pupils dilated, “Is-was sword destroy construct guard Egg?” (“Is this sword
now present the direct successor in space-time sequential change, aside from theoretical anomalies involved in between-universe transitions, of the sword used to loll the Never-Born?” The double tense of the verb, present-past, stipulates and brushes aside the concept that identity is a meaningless abstraction–is this the sword you actually used, in the everyday meaning, and don’t kid me, soldier. I’m no child.)

“Was-is,” I agreed. (“I was there and I guarantee that I followed it all the way here, so it still is.”)

She gave a little gasp and her nipples stood up. Around each was painted, or perhaps tattooed, the multi-universal design we call “Wall of Troy”–and so strong was her reaction that Ileum’s ramparts crumbled again.

“Touch?” she said pleadingly.

“Touch.”

“Touch twice?” (“Please, may I handle it enough to get the feel of it? Pretty please, with sugar on it! I ask too much and it is your right to refuse, but I guarantee not to hurt it”–they get mileage out of words, but the flavor is in the manner.)

I didn’t want to, not the Lady Vivamus. But I’m a sucker for pretty girls. “Touch . . . twice,” I grudged. I drew it and handed it to her guard foremost, alert to grab it before she put somebody’s eye out or stabbed herself in the foot.

She accepted it gingerly, eyes and mouth big, grasping it by the guard instead of the grip. I had to show her. Her hand was far too small for it; her hands and feet, like her waist, were ultra slender.

She spotted the inscription. “Means?”

Dum vivimus, vivamus doesn’t translate well, not because they can’t understand the idea but because it’s water to a fish. How else would one live? But I tried. “Touch-twice life. Eat. Drink. Laugh.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then poked the air, wrist bent and elbow out. I couldn’t stand it, so I took it from her, dropped slowly into a foil guard, lunged in high line, recovered–a move so graceful that big hairy men look good in it. It’s why ballerinas study fencing.

I saluted and gave it back to her, then adjusted her right elbow and wrist and left arm–this is why ballerinas get half rates, it’s fun for the swordmaster. She lunged, almost pinking a guest in his starboard
ham.

I took it back, wiped the blade, sheathed it. We had gathered a solid gallery. I picked up my Dagwood from the buffet, but she wasn’t done with me. “Self jump sword?”

I choked. If she understood the meaning–or if I did–I was being propositioned the most gently I had ever been, in Center. Usually it’s blunt. But surely Star hadn’t spread the details of our wedding ceremony? Rufo? I hadn’t told him but Star might have.

When I didn’t answer, she made herself clear and did not keep her voice down. “Self unvirgin unmother unpregnant fertile.”

I explained as politely as the language permits, which isn’t very, that I was dated up. She dropped the subject, looked at the Dagwood. “Bite touch taste?”

That was another matter; I passed it over. She took a hearty bite, chewed thoughtfully, looked pleased. “Xenic. Primitive. Robust. Strong dissonance. Good art.” Then she drifted away, leaving me wondering. Inside of ten minutes the question was put to me again. I received more propositions than at any other party in Center and I’m sure the sword accounted for the bull market. To be sure, propositions came my way at every social event; I was Her Wisdom’s consort. I could have been an orangutan and offers still would have been made. Some hirsutes looked like orangutans and were socially acceptable but I could have smelled like one. And behaved worse. The truth was that many ladies were curious about what the Empress took to bed, and the fact that I was a savage, or at best a barbarian, made them more curious. There wasn’t any taboo against laying it on the line and quite a few did.

But I was still on my honeymoon. Anyhow, if I had accepted all those offers, I would have gone up with the window shade. But I enjoyed hearing them once I quit cringing at the “Soda? –or ginger ale?” bluntness; it’s good for anybody’s morale to be asked.

As we were undressing that night I said, “Have fun, pretty things?” Star yawned and grinned. “I certainly did. And so did you, old Eagle Scout. Why didn’t you bring that kitten home?”

“What kitten?”

“You know what kitten. The one you were teaching to fence.”

“Meeow!”

“No, no, dear. You should send for her. I heard her state her profession, and there is a strong

connection between good cooking and good–”

“Woman, you talk too much!”

She switched from English to Nevian. “Yes, milord husband. No sound I shall utter that does not break unbidden from love-anguished lips.”

“Milady wife beloved . . . sprite elemental of the Singing Waters–”

Nevian is more useful than the jargon they talk on Center.

Center is a fun place and a Wisdom’s consort has a cushy time. After our first visit to Star’s fishing lodge, I mentioned how nice it would be to go back someday and tickle a few trout at that lovely place, the Gate where we had entered Nevia. “I wish it were on Center.”

“It shall be.”

“Star. You would move it? I know that some Gates, commercial ones, can handle real mass, but, even so–”

“No, no. But just as good. Let me see. It will take a day or so to have it stereoed and measured and air-typed and so forth. Water flow, those things. But meanwhile–There’s nothing much beyond this wall, just a power plant and such. Say a door here and the place where we broiled the fish a hundred yards beyond. Be finished in a week, or we’ll have a new architect. Suits?”

“Star, you’ll do no such thing.”

“Why not, darling?”

“Tear up the whole house to give me a trout stream? Fantastic!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it is. Anyhow, sweet, the idea is not to move that stream here, but to go there. A vacation.”

She sighed. “How I would love a vacation.”

“You took an imprint today. Your voice is different.”

“It wears off, Oscar.”

“Star, you’re taking them too fast. You’re wearing yourself out.”

“Perhaps. But I must be the judge of that, as you know.”

“As I don’t know! You can judge the whole goddamn creation–as you do and I know it–but I, your husband, must judge whether you are overworking–and stop it.”

“Darling, darling!”

There were too many incidents like that.

I was not jealous of her. That ghost of my savage past had been laid in Nevia, I was not haunted by it
again.

Nor is Center a place such ghost is likely to walk. Center has as many marriage customs as it has cultures–thousands. They cancel out. Some humans there are monogamous by instinct, as swans are said to be. So it can’t be classed as “virtue.” As courage is bravery in the face of fear, virtue is right conduct in the face of temptation. If there is no temptation, there can be no virtue. But these inflexible monogamists were no hazard. If someone, through ignorance, propositioned one of these chaste ladies, he risked neither a slap nor a knife; she would turn him down and go right on talking. Nor would it matter if her husband overheard; jealousy is never learned in a race automatically monogamous. Not that I ever tested it; to me they looked–and smelled–like spoiled bread dough. Where there is no temptation there is no virtue. But I had chances to show “virtue.” That kitten with the wasp waist tempted me–and I learned that she was of a culture in which females may not marry until they prove themselves pregnable, as in parts of the South Seas and certain places in Europe; she was breaking no taboos of her tribe. I was tempted more by another gal, a sweetie with a lovely figure, a delightful sense of humor, and one of the best dancers in any universe. She didn’t write it on the sidewalk; she just let me know that she was neither too busy nor uninterested, using that argot with skillful indirection.

This was refreshing. Downright “American.” I did inquire (elsewhere) into the customs of her tribe and found that, while they were rigid as to marriage, they were permissive otherwise. I would never do as a son-in-law but the window was open even though the door was locked.

So I chickened. I gave myself a soul-searching and admitted curiosity as morbid as that of any female who propositioned me simply because I was Star’s consort. Sweet little Zhai-ee-van was one of those who didn’t wear clothes. She grew them on the spot; from tip of her nose to her tiny toes she was covered in soft, sleek, gray fur, remarkably like chinchilla. Gorgeous!

I didn’t have the heart, she was too nice a kid.

But this temptation I admitted to Star–and Star implied gently that I must have muscles between my ears; Zhai-ee-van was an outstanding artiste even among her own people, who were esteemed as most talented devotees of Eros.

I stayed chicken. A romp with a kid that sweet should involve love, some at least, and it wasn’t love, just that beautiful fur–along with a fear that a romp with Zhai-ee-van could turn into love and she couldn’t marry me even if Star turned me loose.

Or didn’t turn me loose–Center has no rule against polygamy. Some religions there have rules for and against this and that out this mixture of cultures has endless religions and they cancel each other the way conflicting customs do. Culturologists state a “law” of religious freedom which they say is invariant: Religious freedom in a cultural complex is inversely proportional to the strength of the strongest religion. This is supposed to be one case of a general invariant, that all freedoms arise from cultural conflicts because a custom which is not opposed by its negative is mandatory and always regarded as a “law of nature.”

Rufo didn’t agree; he said his colleagues stated as equations things which are not mensurate and not definable–holes in their heads! –and that freedom was never more than a happy accident because the common jerk, all human races, hates and fears all freedom, not only for his neighbors but for himself, and stamps it out whenever possible.

Back to Topic “A”–Centrists use every sort of marriage contract. Or none. They practice domestic partnership, coition, propagation, friendship, and love–but not necessarily all at once nor with the same person. Contracts could be as complex as a corporate merger, specifying duration, purposes, duties, responsibilities, number and sex of children, genetic selection methods, whether host mothers were to be hired, conditions for canceling and options for extension–anything but “marital fidelity.” It is axiomatic there that this is unenforceable and therefore not contractual.

But marital fidelity is commoner there than it is on Earth; it simply is not legislated. They have an
ancient proverb reading Women and Cats. It means: “Women and Cats do as they please, and men and dogs might as well relax to it.” It has its opposite: Men and Weather which is blunter and at least as old, since the weather has long been under control.

The usual contract is no contract; he moves his clothes into her home and stays–until she dumps them outside the door. This form is highly thought of because of its stability: A woman who “tosses his shoes” has a tough time finding another man brave enough to risk her temper.

My “contract” with Star was no more than that if contracts, laws, and customs applied to the Empress, which they did not and could not. But that was not the source of my increasing unease.

Believe me, I was not jealous.

But I was increasingly fretted by those dead men crowding her mind.

One evening as we were dressing for some whing-ding she snapped at me. I had been prattling about how I had spent my day, being tutored in mathematics, and no doubt had been as entertaining as a child reporting a day in kindergarten. But I was enthusiastic, a new world was opening to me–and Star was always patient.

But she snapped at me in a baritone voice.

I stopped cold. “You were imprinted today!”

I could feel her shift gears. “Oh, forgive me, darling! No, I’m not myself, I’m His Wisdom CLXXXII.”

I did a fast sum. “That’s fourteen you’ve taken since the Quest–and you took only seven in all the years before that. What the hell are you trying to do? Burn yourself out? Become an idiot?”

She started to scorch me. Then she answered gently, “No, I am not risking anything of the sort.”

“That isn’t what I near.”

“What you may have heard has no weight, Oscar, as no one else can judge–either my capacity, or what it means to accept an imprint. Unless you have been talking to my heir?”

“No.” I knew she had selected him and I assumed that he had taken a print or two–a standard precaution against assassination. But I hadn’t met him, didn’t want to, and didn’t know who he was.

“Then forget what you’ve been told. It is meaningless.” She sighed. “But, darling, if you don’t mind, I won’t go tonight; best I go to bed and sleep. Old Stinky CLXXXII is the nastiest person I’ve ever been–a brilliant success in a critical age, you must read about him. But inside he was a bad-tempered beast who hated the very people he helped. He’s fresh in me now, I must keep him chained.”

“Okay, let’s go to bed.”

Star shook her head. ” ‘Sleep,’ I said. I’ll use autosuggestion and by morning you won’t know he’s been here. You go to the party. Find an adventure and forget that you have a difficult wife.”

I went but I was too bad-tempered even to consider “adventures.”

Old Nasty wasn’t the worst. I can hold my own in a row–and Star, Amazon though she is, is not big enough to handle me. If she got rough, she would at last get that spanking. Nor would I fear interference from guards; that had been settled from scratch: When we two were alone together, we were private. Any third person changed that, nor did Star have privacy alone, even in her bath. Whether her guards were male or female I don’t know, nor would she have cared. Guards were never in sight. So our spats were private and perhaps did us both good, as temporary relief.

But “the Saint” was harder to take than Old Nasty. He was His Wisdom CXLI and was so goddam noble and spiritual and holier-than-thou that I went fishing for three days. Star herself was robust and full of ginger and joy in life; this bloke didn’t drink, smoke, chew gum, nor utter an unkind word. You could almost see Star’s halo while she was under his influence.

Worse, he had renounced sex when he consecrated himself to the Universes and this had a shocking effect on Star; sweet submissiveness wasn’t her style. So I went fishing.

I’ve one good thing to say for the Saint. Star says that he was the most unsuccessful emperor in all that
long line, with genius for doing the wrong thing from pious motives, so she learned more from him than
any other; he made every mistake in the book. He was assassinated by disgusted customers after only fifteen years, which isn’t long enough to louse up anything as ponderous as a multi-universe empire.

His Wisdom CXXXVII was a Her–and Star was absent two days. When she came home she explained. “Had to, dear. I’ve always thought I was a rowdy bitch–but she shocked even me.”

“How?”

“I ain’t talkin’, Guv’nor. I gave myself intensive treatment to bury her where you’ll never meet her.”

“I’m curious.”

“I know you are and that’s why I drove a stake through her heart–rough job, she’s my direct ancestor. But I was afraid you might like her better than you do me. That unspeakable trull!”

I’m still curious.

Most of them weren’t bad Joes. But our marriage would have been smoother if I had never known they were there. It’s easier to have a wife who is a touch batty than one who is several platoons–most of them men. To be aware of their ghostly presence even when Star’s own personality was in charge did my libido no good. But I must concede that Star knew the male viewpoint better than any other woman in any history. She didn’t have to guess what would please a man; she knew more about it than I did, from “experience”–and was explosively uninhibited about sharing her unique knowledge.

I shouldn’t complain.

But I did, I blamed her for being those other people. She endured my unjust complaints better than I endured what I felt to be the injustice in my situation vis-a-vis all that mob of ghosts.

Those ghosts weren’t the worst fly in the soup.

I did not have a job. I don’t mean nine-to-five and cut the grass on Saturdays and get drunk at the country club that night; I mean I didn’t have any purpose. Ever look at a male lion in a zoo? Fresh meat on time, females supplied, no hunters to worry about–He’s got it made, hasn’t he?

Then why does he look bored!

I didn’t know I had a problem, at first. I had a beautiful and loving wife; I was so wealthy that there was no way to count it; I lived in a most luxurious home in a city more lovely than any on Earth; everybody I met was nice to me; and best second only to my wonderful wife, I had endless chance to “go to college” in a marvelous and un-Earthly sense, with no need to chase a pigskin. Nor a sheepskin. I need never stop and had any conceivable help. I mean, suppose Albert Einstein drops everything to help with your algebra, pal, or Rand Corporation and General Electric team up to devise visual aids to make something easier for you. This is luxury greater than riches.

I soon found that I could not drink the ocean even held to my lips. Knowledge on Earth alone has grown so out of hand that no man can grasp it–so guess what the bulk is in Twenty Universes, each with its laws, its histories, and Star alone knows how many civilizations.

In a candy factory, employees are urged to eat all they want. They soon stop.

I never stopped entirely; knowledge has more variety. But my studies lacked purpose. The Secret Name of God is no more to be found in twenty universes than in one–and all other subjects are the same size unless you have a natural bent.

I had no bent, I was a dilettante–and I realized it when I saw that my tutors were bored with me. So I let most of them go, stuck with math and multi-universe history, quit trying to know it all.

I thought about going into business. But to enjoy business you must be a businessman at heart (I’m

not), or you have to need dough. I had dough; all I could do was lose it–or, if I won, I would never know whether word had gone out (from any government anywhere): Don’t buck the Empress’s consort, we will make good your losses.

Same with poker. I introduced the game and it caught on fast–and I found that I could no longer play it. Poker must be serious or it’s nothing–out when you own an ocean of money, adding or losing a few drops mean nothing.

I should explain–Her Wisdom’s “civil list” may not have been as large as the expenditures of many big spenders in Center; the place is rich. But it was as big as Star wanted it to be, a bottomless well of wealth. I don’t know how many worlds split the tab, but call it twenty thousand with three billion people each–it was more than that.

A penny each from 60,000,000,000,000 people is six hundred billion dollars. The figures mean nothing except to show that spreading it so thin that nobody could feel it still meant more money than I could dent. Star’s non-government of her un-Empire was an expense, I suppose–but her personal expenses, and mine, no matter how lavish, were irrelevant.

King Midas lost interest in his piggy bank. So did I.

Oh, I spent money. (I never touched any–unnecessary.) Our “flat” (I won’t call it a palace)–our home had a gymnasium more imaginative than any university gym; I had a salle d’armes added and did a lot of fencing, almost every day with all sorts of weapons. I ordered foils made to match the Lady Vivamus and the best swordmasters in several worlds took turns helping me. I had a range added, too, and had my bow picked up from that Gate cave in Karth-Hokesh, and trained in archery and in other aimed weapons. Oh, I spent money as I pleased.

But it wasn’t much fun.

I was sitting in my study one day, doing not a damn thing but brood, while I played with a bowlful of jewels.

I had fiddled with jewelry design a while. It had interested me in high school; I had worked for a jeweler one summer. I can sketch and was fascinated by lovely stones. He lent me books, I got others from the library–and once he made up one of my designs.

I had a Calling.

But jewelers are not draft-deferred so I dropped it–until Center.

You see, there was no way for me to give Star a present unless I made it. So I did. I made costume jewelry of real stones, studying it (expert help, as usual), sending for a lavish selection of stones, drawing designs, sending stones and drawings out to be made up.

I knew that Star enjoyed jeweled costumes; I knew she liked them naughty–not in the sense of crowding the taboos, there weren’t any–but provocative, gilding the lily, accentuating what hardly needs it.

The things I designed would have seemed at home in a French revue–but of real gems. Sapphires and gold suited Star’s blond beauty and I used them. But she could wear any color and I used other gems, too.

Star was delighted with my first try and wore it that evening. I was proud of it; I had swiped the design from memory of a costume worn by a showgirl in a Frankfurt night club my first night out of the Army–a G-string deal, transparent long skirt open from the hip on one side and with sequins on it (I used sapphires), a thing that wasn’t a bra but an emphasizer, completely jeweled, and a doohickey in her hair to match. High golden sandals with sapphire heels.

Star was warmly grateful for others that followed.

But I learned something. I’m not a jewelry designer. I saw no hope of matching the professionals who catered to the wealthy in Center. I soon realized that Star wore my designs because they were my gift, just as mama pins up the kindergarten drawings that sonny brings home. So I quit.

This bowl of gems had been kicking around my study for weeks–fire opals, sardonyx, carnelians, diamonds and turquoise and rubies, moonstones and sapphires and garnets, peridot, emeralds, chrysolite–many with no English names. I ran them through my fingers, watching the many-colored fire falls, and felt sorry for myself. I wondered how much these pretty marbles would cost on Earth? I couldn’t guess within a million dollars.

I didn’t bother to lock them up at night. And I was the bloke who had quit college for lack of tuition and hamburgers.

I pushed them aside and went to my window–there because I had told Star that I didn’t like not having a window in my study. That was on arrival and I didn’t find out for months how much had been torn down to please me; I had thought they had just cut through a wall.

It was a beautiful view, more a park than a city, studded but not cluttered with lovely buildings. It was hard to realize that it was a city bigger than Tokyo; its “bones” didn’t show and its people worked even half a planet away.

There was a murmur soft as bees, like the muted roar one can never escape in New York–but softer, just enough to make me realize that I was surrounded by people, each with his job, his purpose, his function.

My function? Consort.

Gigolo!

Star, without realizing it, had introduced prostitution into a world that had never known it. An innocent world, where man and woman bedded together only for the reason that they both wanted to.

A prince consort is not a prostitute. He has his work and it is often tedious, representing his sovereign mate, laying cornerstones, making speeches. Besides that, he has his duty as royal stud to ensure that the line does not die.

I had none of these. Not even the duty of entertaining Star–hell, within ten miles of me were millions of men who would jump at the chance.

The night before had been bad. It started badly and went on into one of those weary pillow conferences which married couples sometimes have, and aren’t as healthy as a bang-up row. We had had one, as domestic as any working stiff worried over bills and the boss.

Star had done something she had never done before: brought work home. Five men, concerned with some intergalactic hassle–I never knew what as the discussion had been going on for hours and they sometimes spoke a language not known to me.

They ignored me, I was furniture. On Center introductions are rare; if you want to talk to someone, you say “Self,” and wait. If he doesn’t answer, walk off. If he does, exchange identities. None of them did, and I was damned if I would start it. As strangers in my home it was up to them. But they didn’t act as if it was my home.

I sat there, the Invisible Man, getting madder and madder.

They went on arguing, while Star listened. Presently she summoned maids and they started undressing her, brushing her hair. Center is not America, I had no reason to feel shocked. What she was doing was being rude to them, treating them as furniture (she hadn’t missed how they treated me).

One said pettishly, “Your Wisdom, I do wish you would listen as you agreed to.” (I’ve expanded the argot.)

Star said coldly, “I am judge of my conduct. No one else is capable.”

True. She could judge her conduct, they could not. Nor, I realized bitterly, could I. I had been feeling angry at her (even though I knew it didn’t matter) for calling in her maids and starting to ready for bed with these lunks present–and I had intended to tell her not to let it happen again. I resolved not to raise that issue.

Shortly Star chopped them off. “He’s right. You’re wrong. Settle it that way. Get out.”

But I did intend to sneak it in by objecting to her bringing “tradespeople” home.

Star beat me to the punch. The instant we were alone she said, “My love, forgive me. I agreed to hear this silly mix-up and it dragged on and on, then I thought I could finish it quickly if I got them out of chairs, made them stand up here, and made clear that I was bored. I never thought they would wrangle another hour before I could squeeze out the real issue. And I knew that, if I put it over till tomorrow, they would stretch it into hours. But the problem was important, I couldn’t drop it.” She sighed. “That ridiculous man–Yet such people scramble to high places. I considered having him fool-killed. Instead I must let him correct his error, or the situation will break out anew.”

I couldn’t even hint that she had ruled the way she had out of annoyance; the man she had chewed out was the one in whose favor she had ruled. So I said, “Let’s go to bed, you’re tired”–and then didn’t have sense enough to refrain from judging her myself.

Chapter 19

We went to bed.

Presently she said, “Oscar, you are displeased.”

“I didn’t say so.”

“I feel it. Nor is it Just tonight and those tedious clowns. You have been withdrawing yourself, unhappy.” She waited.

“It’s nothing.”

“Oscar, anything which troubles you can never be ‘nothing’ to me. Although I may not realize it until I know what it is.”

“Well–I feel so damn useless!”

She put her soft, strong hand on my chest. “To me you are not useless. Why do you feel useless to yourself?”

“Well–look at this bed!” It was a bed the like of which Americans never dream; it could do everything but kiss you good night–and, like the city, it was beautiful, its bones did not show. “This sack, at home, would cost more–if they could build it–than the best house my mother ever lived in.”

She thought about that. “Would you like to send money to your mother?” She beckoned the bedside communicator. “Is Elmendorf Air Force Base of America address enough?”

(I don’t recall ever telling her where Mother lived.) “No, no!” I gestured at the talker, shutting it off. “I do not want to send her money. Her husband supports her. He won’t take money from me. That’s not the point.”

“Then I don’t see the point as yet. Beds do not matter, it is who is in a bed that counts. My darling, if you don’t like this bed, we can get another. Or sleep on the floor. Beds do not matter.”

“This bed is okay. The only thing wrong is that I didn’t pay for it. You did. This house. My clothes. The food I eat. My–my toys! Every damned thing I have you gave me. Know what I am. Star? A gigolo! Do you Know what a gigolo is? A somewhat-male prostitute.”

One of my wife’s most exasperating habits was, sometimes, to refuse to snap back at me when she knew I was spoiling for a row. She looked at me thoughtfully. “America is a busy place, isn’t it? People work all the time, especially men.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“It isn’t the custom everywhere, even on Earth. A Frenchman isn’t unhappy if he has free time; he orders another cafe au lait and lets the saucers pile up. Nor am I fond of work. Oscar, I ruined our evening from laziness, too anxious to avoid having to redo a weary task tomorrow. I will not make that mistake twice.”

“Star, that doesn’t matter. That’s over with.”

“I know. The first issue is rarely the key. Nor the second. Nor, sometimes, the twenty-second. Oscar, you are not a gigolo.”

“What do you call it? When it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck and acts like a duck, I call it a duck. Call it a bunch of roses. It still quacks.”

“No. All this around us–” She waved. “Bed. This beautiful chamber. The food we eat. My clothes and yours. Our lovely pools. The night majordomo on watch against the chance that you or I might demand a
singing bird or a ripe melon. Our captive gardens. All we see or touch or use or fancy–and a thousand times as much in distant places, all these you earned with your own strong hands; they are yours, by right.”

I snorted. “They are,” she insisted. “That was our contract. I promised you great adventure, and greater treasure, and even greater danger. You agreed. You said, ‘Princess, you’ve hired yourself a boy.’ ” She smiled. “Such a big boy. Darling, I think the dangers were greater than you guessed . . . so it has pleased me, until now, that the treasure is greater than you were likely to have guessed. Please don’t be shy about accepting it. You have earned it and more–as much as you are ever willing to accept”

“Uh–Even if you are right, it’s too much. I’m drowning in marshmallows!”

“But, Oscar, you don’t have to take one bit you don’t want. We can live simply. In one room with bed folded into wall if it pleases you.”

“That’s no solution.”

“Perhaps you would like bachelor digs, out in town?”

” ‘Tossing my shoes,’ eh?”

She said levelly, “My husband, if your shoes are ever tossed, you must toss them. I jumped over your

sword. I shall not jump back.” “Take it easy!” I said. “It was your suggestion. If I took it wrong, I’m sorry. I know you don t go back on your word. But you might be regretting it.”

“I am not regretting it. Are you?”

“No, Star, no! But–”

“That’s a long pause for so short a word,” she said gravely. “Will you tell me?”

“Uh . . . that’s just it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell what, Oscar? There are so many things to tell.”

“Well, a lot of things. What I was getting into. About you being the Empress of the whole works, in particular . . . before you let me jump over the sword with you.”

Her face did not change but tears rolled down her cheeks. “I could answer that you did not ask me–”

“I didn’t know what to ask!”

“That is true. I could assert, truthfully, that had you asked I would have answered. I could protest that

I did not ‘let you’ jump over the sword, that you overruled my protests that it was not necessary to offer

me the honor of marriage by the laws of your people . . . that I was a wench you could tumble at will. I could point out that I am not an empress, not royal, but a working woman whose job does not permit her even the luxury of being noble. All these are true. But I will not hide behind them; I will meet your question.” She slipped into Nevian. “Milord Hero, I feared sorely that if I did not bend to your will, you would leave me!”

“Milady wife, truly did you think that your champion would desert you in your peril?” I went on in English, “Well, that nails it to the barn. You married me because the Egg damned well had to be recovered and Your Wisdom told you that I was necessary to the job–and might bug out if you didn’t. Well, Your Wisdom wasn’t sharp on that point; I don’t bug out. Stupid of me but I’m stubborn.” I started to get out of bed.

“Milord love!” She was dying openly.

“Excuse me. Got to find a pair of shoes. See how far I can throw them.” I was being nasty as only a man can be who has had his pride wounded.

“Please, Oscar, please! Hear me first.”

I heaved a sigh. “Talk ahead.”

She grabbed my hand so hard I would have lost fingers had I tried to pull loose. “Hear me out. My beloved, it was not that at all. I knew that you would not give up our quest until it was finished or we were dead. I knew! Not only had I reports reaching back years before I ever saw you but also we had shared joy and danger and hardship; I knew your mettle. But, had it been needed, I could have bound you with a net of words, persuaded you to agree to betrothal only–until the quest was over. You are a romantic, you would have agreed. But, darling, darling! I wanted to many you . . . bind you to me by your rules, so that”–she stopped to sniff back tears–“so that, when you saw all this, and this, and this, and the things you call ‘your toys,’ you still would stay with me. It was not politics, it was low–love romantic and unreasoned, love for your own sweet self.”

She dropped her face into her hands and I could barely hear her. “But I know so little of love. Love is a butterfly that lights when it listeth, leaves as it chooses; it is never bound with chains. I sinned. I tried to bind you. Unjust I knew it was, cruel to you I now see it to be.” Star looked up with crooked smile. “Even Her Wisdom has no wisdom when it comes to being a woman. But, though silly wench I be, I am not too stubborn to know that I have wronged my beloved when my face is rubbed in it. Go, go, get your sword; I will jump back over it and my champion will be free of his silken cage. Go, milord Hero, while my heart is firm.”

“Go fetch your own sword, wench. That paddling is long overdue.”

Suddenly she grinned, all hoyden. “But, darling, my sword is in Karth-Hokesh. Don’t you remember?”

“You can’t avoid it this time!” I grabbed her. Star is a handful and slippery, with amazing muscles. But I’m bigger and she didn’t fight as hard as she could have. Still I lost skin and picked up bruises before I got her legs pinned and one arm twisted behind her. I gave her a couple of hearty spanks, hard enough to print each finger in pink, then lost interest.

Now tell me, were those words straight from her heart–or was it acting by the smartest woman in twenty universes?

Later, Star said, “I’m glad your chest is not a scratchy rug, like some men, my beautiful.”

“I was a pretty baby, too. How many chests have you checked?”

“A random sample. Darling, have you decided to keep me?”

“A while. On good behavior, you understand.”

“I’d rather be kept on bad behavior. But–while you’re feeling mellow–if you are–I had best tell you

another thing–and take my spanking if I must.”

“You’re too anxious. One a day is maximum, hear me?”

“As you will, sir. Yassuh, Boss man. I’ll have my sword fetched in the morning and you can spank me

with it at your leisure. If you think you can catch me. But I must tell this and get it off my chest.”

“There’s nothing on your chest. Unless you count–”

“Please! You’ve been going to our therapists.”

“Once a week.” The first thing Star had ordered was an examination for me so complete as to make an Army physical seem perfunctory. “The Head Sawbones insists that my wounds aren’t healed but I don’t believe him; I’ve never felt better.”

“He, is stalling, Oscar–by my order. You’re healed, I am not unskilled, I was most careful. But–darling, I did this for selfish reasons and now you must tell me if I have been cruel and unjust to you again. I admit I was sneaky. But my intentions were good. However, I know, as the prime lesson of my profession, that good intentions are the source of more folly than all other causes put together.”

“Star, what are you prattling about? Women are the source of all folly.”

“Yes, dearest. Because they always have good intentions–and can prove it. Men sometimes act from rational self-interest, which is safer. But not often.”

“That’s because half their ancestors are female. Why have I been keeping doctor’s appointments if I don t need them?”

“I didn’t say you don’t need them. But you may not think so. Oscar, you are far advanced with

Long-Life treatments.” She eyed me as if ready to parry or retreat.

“Well, I’ll be damned!”

“You object? At this stage it can be reversed.”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” I knew that Long-Life was available on Center but knew also that it was rigidly restricted. Anybody could have it–just before emigrating to a sparsely settled planet. Permanent residents must grow old and die. This was one matter in which one of Star’s predecessors had interfered in local government. Center, with disease practically conquered, great prosperity, and lodestone of a myriad peoples, had grown too crowded, especially when Long-Life sent skyward the average age of death.

This stern rule had thinned the crowds. Some people took Long-Life early, went through a Gate and took their chances in wilderness. More waited until that first twinge that brings awareness of death, then decided that they weren’t too old for a change. And some sat tight and died when their time came.

I knew that twinge; it had been handed to me by a bolo in a jungle. “I guess I have no objection.”

She sighed with relief. “I didn’t know and should not have slipped it into your coffee. Do I rate a spanking?”

“We’ll add it to the list you already rate and give them to you all at once. Probably cripple you. Star, how long is ‘Long-Life’?”

“That’s hard to answer. Very few who have had it have died in bed. If you live as active a life as I know you will–from your temperament–you are most unlikely to die of old age. Nor of disease.”

“And I never grow old?” It takes getting used to.

“Oh, yes, you can grow old. Worse yet, senility stretches in proportion. If you let it. If those around you allow it. However–Darling, how old do I look? Don’t tell me with your heart, tell me with your eyes. By Earth standards. Be truthful, I know the answer.”

It was ever a joy to look at Star but I tried to look at her freshly, for hints of autumn–outer corners of eyes, her hands, for tiny changes in skin–hell, not even a stretch mark, yet I knew she had a grandchild.

“Star, when I first saw you, I guessed eighteen. You turned around and I upped the ante a little. Now, looking closely and not giving you any breaks–not over twenty-five. And that is because your features seem mature. When you laugh, you’re a teen-ager; when you wheedle, or look awestruck, or suddenly delighted with a puppy or kitten or something, you’re about twelve. From the chin up, I mean; from the chin down you can’t pass for less than eighteen.”

“A buxom eighteen,” she added. “Twenty-five Earth years–by rates of growth on Earth–is right on the mark I was shooting at. The age when a woman stops growing and starts aging. Oscar, your apparent age under Long-Life is a matter of choice. Take my Uncle Joseph–the one who sometimes calls himself ‘Count Cagliostro.’ He set himself at thirty-five, because he says that anything younger is a boy. Rufo prefers to look older. He says it gets him respectful treatment, keeps him out of brawls with lounger men–and still lets him give a younger man a shock if one does pick a fight because, as you know, Rufo’s older age is mostly from chin up.”

“Or the shock he can give younger women,” I suggested.

“With Rufo one never knows. Dearest, I didn’t finish telling you. Part of it is teaching the body to repair itself. Your language lessons here–there hasn’t been a one but what a hypno-therapist was waiting to give your body a lesson through your sleeping mind, after your language lesson. Part of apparent age is cosmetic therapy–Rufo need not be bald–but more is controlled by the mind. When you decide what age you like, they can start imprinting it.”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t want to look too much older than you.”

Star looked delighted. “Thank you, dear! You see how selfish I’ve been.”

“How? I missed that point.”

She put a hand over mine. “I didn’t want you to grow old–and die! –while I stayed young.” I blinked at her. “Gosh, lady, that was selfish of you, wasn’t it? But you could varnish me and keep me in the bedroom. Like your aunt.”

She made a face. “You’re a nasty man. She didn’t varnish them.”

“Star, I haven’t seen any of those keepsake corpses around here.”

She looked surprised. “But that’s on the planet where I was born. This universe, another star. Very pretty place. Didn’t I ever say?”

“Star, my darling, mostly you’ve never said.”

“I’m sorry. Oscar, I don’t want to hand you surprises. Ask me. Tonight. Anything.”

I considered it. One thing I had wondered about, a certain lack. Or perhaps the women of her part of

the race had another rhythm. But I had been stopped by the fact that I had married a grandmother–how old? “Star, are you pregnant?”

“Why, no, dear. Oh! Do you want me to be? You want us to have children?”

I stumbled, trying to explain that I hadn’t been sure it was possible–or maybe she was. Star looked troubled. “I’m going to upset you again. I had best tell it all. Oscar, I was no more brought up to luxury than you were. A pleasant childhood, my people were ranchers. I married young and was a simple mathematics teacher, with a hobby research in conjectural and optional geometries. Magic, I mean. Three children. My husband and I got along well . . . until I was nominated. Not selected, just named for examination and possible training. He knew I was a genetic candidate when he married me–but so many millions are. It didn’t seem important.

“He wanted me to refuse. I almost did. But when I accepted, he–well, he ‘tossed my shoes.’ We do it formally there; he published a notice that I was no longer his wife.”

“He did, eh? Mind if I look him up and break his arms?”

“Dear, dear! That was many years ago and far away; he is long dead. It doesn’t matter.”

“In any case he’s dead. Your three kids–one of them is Rufo’s father? Or mother?”

“Oh, no! That was later.”

“Well?”

Star took a deep breath. “Oscar, I have about fifty children.”

That did it. Too many shocks and I guess I showed it, for Star’s face reflected deep concern. She
rushed through the explanation.

When she was named heir, changes were made in her, surgical, biochemical, and endocrinal. Nothing
as drastic as spaying and to different ends and by techniques more subtle than ours. But the result was

that about two hundred tiny bits of Star–ova alive and latent–were stored near absolute zero.

Some fifty had been quickened, mostly by emperors long dead but “alive” in their stored seed–genetic gambles on getting one or more future emperors. Star had not borne them; an heir’s time is too precious. She had never seen most of them; Rufo’s father was an exception. She didn’t say, but I think Star liked to have a child around to play with and love–until the strenuous first years of her reign and the Quest for the Egg left her no time.

This change had a double purpose: to get some hundreds of star-line children from a single mother, and to leave the mother free. By endocrine control of some sort, Star was left free of Eve’s rhythm but in all ways young–not pills nor hormone injections; this was permanent. She was simply a healthy woman who never had “bad days.” This was not for her convenience but to insure that her judgment as the Great Judge would never be whipsawed by her glands. “This is sensible,” she said seriously. “I can remember there used to be days when I would bite the head off my dearest friend for no reason, then burst into tears. One can’t be judicial in that sort of storm.”

“Uh, did it affect your interest? I mean your desire for–”

She gave me a hearty grin. “What do you think?” She added seriously, “The only thing that affects my libido–changes it for the worse, I mean–are . . . is? –English has the oddest structure–is-are those pesky imprintings. Sometimes up, sometimes down–and you’ll remember one woman whose name we won’t mention who affected me so carnivorously that I didn’t dare come near you until I had exorcised her black soul! A fresh imprint affects my judgment as well, so I never hear a case until I have digested the latest one. I’ll be glad when they’re over!”

“So will I.”

“Not as glad as I will be. But, aside from that, darling, I don t vary much as a female and you know it. Just my usual bawdy self who eats young boys for breakfast and seduces them into jumping over swords.” “How many swords?”

She looked at me sharply. “Since my first husband kicked me out I have not been married until I married you, Mr. Gordon. If that is not what you meant, I don’t think you should hold against me things that happened before you were born. If you want details since then, I’ll satisfy your curiosity. Your morbid curiosity, if I may say so.”

“You want to boast. Wench, I won’t pamper it.”

“I do not want to boast! I’ve little to boast about. The Crisis of the Egg left me almost no time in which to be a woman, damn it! Until Oscar the Rooster came along. Thank you, sir.”

“And keep a civil tongue in your head.”

“Yes, sir. Nice Rooster! But you’ve led us far from our muttons, dear. If you want children–yes, darling! There are about two hundred and thirty eggs left and they belong to me. Not to posterity. Not to the dear people, bless their greedy little hearts. Not to those God-playing genetic manipulators. Me! It’s all I own. All else is ex offico. But these are mine . . . and if you want them, they are yours, my only dear.”

I should have said, “Yes!” and kissed her. What I did say was, “Uh, let’s not rush it.”

Her face fell. “As milord Hero husband pleases.”

“Look, don’t get Nevian and formal. I mean, well, it takes getting used to. Syringes and things, I suppose, and monkeying by technicians. And, while I realize you don’t have time to have a baby yourself–”

I was trying to say that, ever since I got straightened out about the Stork, I had taken for granted the usual setup, and artificial insemination was a dirty trick to play even on a cow–and that this job, subcontracted on both sides, made me think of slots in a Horn & Hardart, or a mail-order suit. But give me time and I would adjust. Just as she had adjusted to those damned imprints-

She gripped my hands. “Darling, you needn’t!”

“Needn’t what?”

“Be monkeyed with by technicians. And I will take time to have your baby. If you don’t mind seeing my body get gross and huge–it does, it does, I remember–then happily I will do it. All will be as with other people so far as you are concerned. No syringes. No technicians. Nothing to offend your pride. Oh, I’ll have to be worked on. But I’m used to being handled like a prize cow; it means no more than having my hair shampooed.”

“Star, you would go through nine months of inconvenience–and maybe die in childbirth–to save me a few moments’ annoyance?”

“I shall not die, Three children, remember? Normal deliveries, no trouble.”

“But, as you pointed out, that was ‘many years ago.’ ”

“No matter.”

“Uh, how many years?” (“How old are you, woman?” The question I never dared ask.)

She looked upset. “Does it matter, Oscar?”

“Uh, I suppose not. You know more about medicine than I do–”

She said slowly, “You were asking how old I am, were you not?”

I didn’t say anything. She waited, then went on, “An old saw from your world says that a woman is as young as she feels. And I feel young and I am young and I have zest for life and I can bear a baby–or many babies–m my own belly. But I know–oh, I know! –that your worry is not just that I am too rich and occupy a position not easy for a husband. Yes, I know that part too well; my first husband rejected me for that. But be was my age. The most cruel and unjust thing I have done is that I knew that my age could matter to you–and I kept still. That was why Rufo was so outraged. After you were asleep that night in the cave of the Forest of Dragons he told me so, in biting words. He said he knew I was not above enticing young boys but he never thought that I would sink so low as to trap one into marriage without first telling him. He’s never had a high opinion of his old granny, he said, but this time–”

“Shut up, Star!”

“Yes, milord.”

“It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference!”–and I said it so flatly that I believed it–and do now. “Rufo doesn’t know what I think. You are younger than tomorrow’s dawn–you always will be. That’s the last I want to hear about it!”

“Yes, milord.”

“And knock that off, too. Just say, ‘Okay, Oscar.’ ”

“Yes, Oscar! Okay!”

“Better. Unless you’re honing for another spanking. And I’m too tired.” I changed the subject. “About this other matter–There’s no reason to stretch your pretty tummy if other ways are at hand. I’m a country jake, that’s all; I’m not used to big city ways. When you suggested that you do it yourself, did you mean that they could put you back together the way you were?”

“No. I would simply be host-mother as well as genetic mother.” She smiled and I knew I was making progress. “But saving a tidy sum of that money you don’t want to spend. Those healthy, sturdy women who have other people’s babies charge high. Four babies, they can retire–ten makes them wealthy.”

“I should think they would charge high! Star, I don’t object to spending money. I’ll concede, if you say so, that I’ve earned more than I spend, by my work as a professional hero. That’s a tough racket, too.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“This citified way of having babies–Can you pick it? Boy, or girl?”

“Of course. Male-giving wigglers swim faster, they can be sorted out. That’s why Wisdoms are usually men–I was an unplanned candidate. You shall have a son, Oscar.”

“Might prefer a girl. I’ve a weakness for little girls.”

“A boy, a girl–or both. Or as many as you want.”

“Star, let me study it. Lots of angles–and I don’t think as well as you do.”

“Pooh!”

“If you don’t think better than I do, the cash customers are getting rooked. Mmm, male seed can be stored as easily as eggs?”

“Much easier.”

“That’s all the answer we need now. I’m not too jumpy about syringes; I’ve stood in enough Army queues. I’ll go to the clinic or whatever it is, then we can settle it slowly. When we decide”–I shrugged–“mail the postcard and when it goes clunk! –we’re parents. Or some such. From there on the technicians and those husky gals can handle it.”

“Yes, milo–Okay, darling!”

All better. Almost her little girl face. Certainly her sixteen-year-old face, with new party dress and boys a shivery, delightful danger. “Star, you said earlier that it was often not the second issue out even the twenty-second that matters.”

“Yes.”

“I know what’s wrong with me. I can tell you–and maybe Her Wisdom knows the answer.”

She blinked. “If you can tell me, sweetheart–Her Wisdom will solve it, even if I have to tear the place down and put it back up differently–from here to the next galaxy–or I’ll go out of the Wisdom business!”

“That sounds more like my Lucky Star. All right, it’s not that I’m a gigolo. I’ve earned my coffee and cakes, at least; the Soul-Eater did damn near eat my soul, he knew its exact shape–he . . . it–it knew things I had long forgotten. It was rough and the pay ought to be high. It’s not your age, dearest. Who cares how old Helen of Troy is? You’re the right age forever–can a man be luckier? I’m not jealous of your position; I wouldn’t want it with chocolate icing. I’m not jealous of the men in your life–the lucky stiffs! Not even now, as long as I don’t stumble over them getting to the bathroom.”

“There are no other men in my life now, milord husband.”

“I had no reason to think so. But there is always next week, and even you can’t have a Sight about

that, my beloved. You’ve taught me that marriage is not a form of death–and you obviously aren’t dead, you lively wench.”

“Perhaps not a Sight,” she admitted. “But a feeling.”

“I won’t bet on it. I’ve read the Kinsey Report.”

“What report?”

“He disproved the Mermaid theory. About married women. Forget it. Hypothetical question: If Jocko visited Center, would you still have the same feeling? We should have to invite him to sleep here.”

“The Doral will never leave Nevia.”

“Don’t blame him, Nevia is wonderful. I said If–If he does, will you offer him ‘roof, table, and bed’?”

“That,” she said firmly, “is your decision, milord.”

“Rephrase it: Will you expect me to humiliate Jocko by not returning his hospitality? Gallant old Jocko, who let us live when he was entitled to kill us? Whose bounty–arrows and many things, including a new medic’s kit–kept us alive and let us win back the Egg?”

“By Nevian customs of roof and table and bed,” she insisted, “the husband decides, milord husband.”

“We aren’t in Nevia and here a wife has a mind of her own. You’re dodging, wench.”

She grinned naughtily. “Does that ‘if’ of yours include Muri? And Letva? They’re his favorites, he

wouldn’t travel without them. And how about little what’s-her-name? –the nymphet?”

“I am aware of it, my Hero,” she said levelly. “All I can say is that I intend that this wench shall never give her Hero a moment’s unease–and my intentions are usually carried out. I am not ‘Her Wisdom’ for nothing.”

“Fair enough. I never thought you would cause me that sort of unease. I was trying to show that the task may not be too difficult. Damn it, we’ve wandered off. Here’s my real problem. I’m not good for anything. I’m worthless.”

“Why, my dearest! You’re good for me.”

“But not for myself. Star, gigolo or not, I can’t be a pet poodle. Not even yours. Look, you’ve got a job. It keeps you busy and it’s important. But me? There is nothing for me to do, nothing at all! –nothing better than designing bad jewelry. You know what I am? A hero by trade, so you told me; you recruited me. Now I’m retired. Do you know anything in all twenty universes more useless than a retired hero?”

She mentioned a couple. I said, “You’re stalling. Anyhow they break up the blankness of the male chest. I’m serious, Star. This is the issue that has made me unfit to live with. Darling, I’m asking you to put your whole mind on it–and all those ghostly helpers. Treat it the way you treat an Imperial problem. Forget I’m your husband. Consider my total situation, all you know about me–and tell me what I can do with hands and head and time that is worth doing. Me, being what I am.”

She held still for long minutes, her face in that professional calm she had worn the times I had audited her work. “You are right,” she said at last. “There is nothing worth your powers on this planet.”

“Then what do I do?”

She said tonelessly, “You must leave.”

“Huh?”

“You think I like the answer, my husband? Do you think I like most answers I must give? But you asked me to consider it professionally. I obeyed. That is the answer. You must leave this planet–and me.”

“So my shoes get tossed anyhow?”

“Be not bitter, milord. That is the answer. I can evade and be womanish only in my private life; I cannot refuse to think if I agree to do so as ‘Her Wisdom.’ You must leave me. But, no, no, no, your shoes are not tossed! You will leave, because you must. Not because I wish it.” Her face stayed calm but tears streamed again. “One cannot ride a cat . . . nor hurry a snail . . . nor teach a snake to fly. Nor make a poodle of a Hero. I knew it, I refused to look at it. You will do what you must do. But your shoes will remain ever by my bed, I am not sending you away!” She blinked back tears. “I cannot lie to you, even by silence. I will not say that no other shoes will rest here . . . if you are gone a long time. I have been lonely. There are no words to say how lonely this job is. When you go . . . I shall be lonelier than ever. But you will find your shoes here when you return.”

“When I return? You have a Sight?”

“No, milord Hero. I have only a feeling . . . that if you live . . . you will return. Perhaps many times. But Heroes do not die in bed. Not even this one.” She blinked and tears stopped and her voice was steady. “Now, milord husband, if it please you, shall we dim the lights and rest?”

We did and she put her head on my shoulder and did not cry. But we did not sleep. After an aching time I said, “Star, do you hear what I hear?”

She raised her head. “I hear nothing.”

“The City. Can’t you hear it? People. Machines. Even thoughts so thick your bones feel it and your ear almost catches it.”

“Yes. I know that sound.”

“Star, do you like it here?”

“No. It was never necessary that I like it.”

“Look, damn it! You said that I would leave. Come with me!”

“Oh, Oscar!”

“What do you owe them? Isn’t recovering the Egg enough? Let them take a new victim. Come walk the Glory Road with me again! There must be work in my line somewhere.”

“There is always work for Heroes.”

“Okay, we set up in business, you and I. Heroing isn’t a bad job. The meals are irregular and the pay uncertain–out it’s never dull. We’ll run ads: ‘Gordon & Gordon, Heroing Done Reasonable. No job too large, no job too small. Dragons exterminated by contract, satisfaction guaranteed or no pay. Free estimates on other work. Questing, maiden-rescuing, golden fleece located night or day?’ ”

I was trying to jolly her but Star doesn’t jolly. She answered in sober earnest. “Oscar, if I am to retire, I should train my heir first. True, no one can order me to do anything–but I have a duty to train my replacement.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not long. Thirty years, about.”

“Thirty years!”

“I could force it to twenty-five, I think.”

I sighed. “Star, do you know how old I am?”

“Yes. Not yet twenty-five. But you will get no older!”

“But right now I’m still that age. That’s all the time there has ever been for me. Twenty-five years as a pet poodle and I won’t be a hero, nor anything. I’ll be out of my silly mind.”

She thought about it. “Yes. That is true.”

She turned over, we made a spoon and pretended to sleep.

Later I felt her shoulders shaking and knew that she was sobbing. “Star?”

She didn’t turn her head. All I heard was a choking voice, “Oh, my dear, my very dear! If I were even a hundred years younger!”

Chapter 20

I let the precious, useless gems dribble through my fingers, listlessly pushed them aside. If I were only a hundred years older-

But Star was right. She could not leave her post without relief. Her notion of proper relief, not mine nor anyone else’s. And I couldn’t stay in this upholstered jail much longer without beating my head on the bars.

Yet both of us wanted to stay together.

The real nasty hell of it was that I knew–just as she knew–that each of us would forget. Some, anyhow. Enough so that there would be other shoes, other men, and she would laugh again.

And so would I–She had seen that and had gravely, gently, with subtle consideration for another’s feelings, told me indirectly that I need not feel guilty when next I courted some other girl, in some other land, somewhere.

Then why did I feel like a heel?

How did I get trapped with no way to turn without being forced to choose between hurting my beloved and going clean off my rocker?

I read somewhere about a man who lived on a high mountain, because of asthma, the choking, killing land, while his wife lived on the coast below him, because of heart trouble that could not stand altitude. Sometimes they looked at each other through telescopes.

In the morning there had been no talk of Stars retiring. The unstated quid-pro-quo was that, if she planned to retire, I would hang around (thirty years!) until she did. Her Wisdom had concluded that I could not, and did not speak of it. We had a luxurious breakfast and were cheerful, each with his secret thoughts.

Nor were children mentioned. Oh, I would find that clinic, do what was needed. If she wanted to mix
her star line with my common blood, she could, tomorrow or a hundred years hence. Or smile tenderly
and have it cleaned out with the rest of the trash. None of my people had even been mayor of Podunk
and a plow horse isn’t groomed for the Irish Sweepstakes. If Star put a child together from our genes, it
would be sentiment, a living valentine–a younger poodle she could pet before she let it run free. But
sentiment only, as sticky if not as morbid as that of her aunt with the dead husbands, for the Imperium

could not use my bend sinister.

I looked up at my sword, hanging opposite me. I hadn’t touched it since the party, long past, when Star chose to dress for the Glory Road. I took it down, buckled it on and drew it–felt that surge of liveness and had a sudden vision of a long road and a castle on a hill.

What does a champion owe his lady when the quest is done?

Quit dodging, Gordon! What does a husband owe his wife? This very sword–“Jump Rogue and Princess leap. My wife art thou and mine to keep.” “–for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse . . . to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” That was what I meant by that doggerel and Star had known it and I had known it and knew it now.

When we vowed, it had seemed likely that we would be parted by death that same day. But that didn’t reduce the vow nor the deepness with which I had meant it. I hadn’t jumped the sword to catch a tumble on the grass before I died; I could have had that free. No, I had wanted “–to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do us part”!

Star had kept her vow to the letter. Why did I have itchy feet?

Scratch a hero and find a bum.

And a retired hero was as silly as those out-of-work kings that clutter Europe.

I slammed out of our “flat,” wearing sword and not giving a damn about stares, apported to our therapists, found where I should go, went there, did what was necessary, told the boss biotechnician that Her Wisdom must be told, and jumped down his throat when he asked questions.

Then back to the nearest apport booth and hesitated–I needed companionship the way an Alcoholics-Anonymous needs his hand held. But I had no intimates, just hundreds of acquaintances. It isn’t easy for the Empress’s cosort to have friends.

Rufo it had to be. But in all the months I had been on Center I had never been in Rufo’s home. Center does not practice the barbarous custom of dropping in on people and I had seen Rufo only at the Residence, or on parties; Rufo had never invited me to his home. No, no coldness there; we saw him often, but always he had come to us.

I looked for him in apport listings–no luck. Then as little with see-speak lists. I called the Residence, got the communication officer. He said that “Rufo” was not a surname and tried to brush me off. I said, “Hold it, you overpaid clerk! Switch me off and you’ll be in charge of smoke signals in Timbuktu an hour from now. Now listen. This bloke is elderly, baldheaded, one of his names is ‘Rufo’ I think, and he is a distinguished comparative culturologist. And he is a grandson of Her Wisdom. I think you know who he is and have been dragging your feet from bureaucratic arrogance. You have five minutes. Then I talk to Her Wisdom and ask her, while you pack!”

(“Stop! Danger you! Other old bald Rufo (?) top compculturist. Wisdom egg-sperm-egg. Five-minutes. Liar and/or fool. Wisdom? Catastrophe!”)

In less than five minutes Rufo’s image filled the tank. “Well!” he said. “I wondered who had enough weight to crash my shutoff.”

“Rufo, may I come see you?”

His scalp wrinkled. “Mice in the pantry, son? Your face reminds me of the time my uncle–”

“Please, Rufo!”

“Yes, son,” he said gently. “I’ll send the dancing girls home. Or shall I keep them?”

“I don’t care. How do I find you?”

He told me, I punched his code, added my charge number, and I was there, a thousand miles around the horizon. Rufo’s place was a mansion as lavish as Jocko’s and thousands of years more sophisticated. I gathered an impression that Rufo had the biggest household on Center, all female. I was wrong. But all female servants, visitors, cousins, daughters, made themselves a reception committee–to look at Her Wisdom’s bedmate. Rufo shooed them away and took me to his study. A dancing girl (evidently a secretary) was fussing over papers and tapes. Rufo slapped her fanny out, gave me a comfortable chair, a drink, put cigarettes near me, sat down and said nothing.

Smoking isn’t popular on Center, what they use as tobacco is the reason. I picked up a cigarette.
“Chesterfields! Good God!”

“Have ’em smuggled,” he said. “But they don’t make anything like Sweet Caps anymore. Bridge sweepings and chpped hay.”

I hadn’t smoked in months. But Star had told me that cancer and such I could now forget. So I lit it–and coughed like a Nevian dragon. Vice requires constant practice.

” ‘What news on the Rialto?’ ” Rufo inquired. He glanced at my sword.

“Oh, nothing.” Having interrupted Rufo’s work, I now shied at baring my domestic troubles.

Rufo sat and smoked and waited. I needed to say something and the American cigarette reminded me of an incident, one that had added to my unstable condition. At a party a week earlier, I had met a man thirty-five in appearance, smooth, polite, but with that supercilious air that says: “Your fly is unzipped, old man, but I’m too urbane to mention it.”

But I had been delighted to meet him, he had spoken English!

I had thought that Star, Rufo, and myself were the only ones on Center who spoke English. We often spoke it. Star on my account, Rufo because he liked to practice. He spoke Cockney like a costermonger, Bostonese like Beacon Hill, Aussie like a kangaroo; Rufo knew all English languages.

This chap spoke good General American. “Nebbi is the name, he said, shaking hands where no one shakes hands, “and you’re Gordon, I know. Delighted to meet you.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “It’s a surprise and a pleasure to hear my own language.”

“Professional knowledge, my dear chap. Comparative culturologist, linguisto-historo-political. You’re American, I know. Let me place it–Deep-South, not born there. Possibly New England. Overlaid with displaced Middle Western, California perhaps. Basic speech, lower-middle class, mixed.”

The smooth oaf was good. Mother and I lived in Boston while my father was away, 1942-45. I’ll never forget those winters; I wore overshoes from November to April. I had lived Deep South, Georgia and Florida, and in California at La Jolla during the Korean unWar and, later, in college. “Lower-middle class”? Mother had not thought so.

“Near enough,” I agreed. “I know one of your colleagues.”

“I know whom you mean, ‘the Mad Scientist.’ Wonderful wacky theories. But tell me: How were things when you left? Especially, how is the United States getting along with its Noble Experiment?”

” ‘Noble Experiment’?” I had to think; Prohibition was gone before I was born. “Oh, that was repealed.”

“Really? I must go back for a field trip. What have you now? A king? I could see that your country was headed that way but I did not expect it so soon.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I was talking about Prohibition.”

“Oh, that. Symptomatic but not basic. I was speaking of the amusing notion of chatter rule. ‘Democracy.’ A curious delusion–as if adding zeros could produce a sum. But it was tried in your tribal land on a mammoth scale. Before you were born, no doubt. I thought you meant that even the corpse had been swept away.” He smiled. “Then they still have elections and all that?”

“The last time I looked, yes.”

“Oh, wonderful. Fantastic, simply fantastic. Well, we must get together, I want to quiz you. I’ve been studying your planet a long time–the most amazing pathologies in tile explored complex. So long. Don’t take any wooden nickels, as your tribesmen say.”

I told Rufo about it. “Rufe, I know I came from a barbarous planet. But does that excuse his rudeness? Or was it rudeness? I haven’t really got the hang of good manners here.”

Rufo frowned. “It is bad manners anywhere to sneer at a person’s birthplace, tribe, or customs. A man does it at his own risk. If you kill him, nothing will happen to you. It might embarrass Her Wisdom a little. If She can be embarrassed.”

“I won’t kill him, it’s not that important.”

“Then forget it. Nebbi is a snob. He knows a little, understands nothing, and thinks the universes would be better if he had designed them. Ignore him.”

“I will. It was just–look, Rufo, my country isn’t perfect. But I don t enjoy hearing it from a stranger.”

“Who does? I like your country, it has flavor. But–I’m not a stranger and this is not a sneer. Nebbi was right.”

“Huh?”

“Except that he sees only the surface. Democracy can’t work. Mathematicians, peasants, and animals, that’s all there is–so democracy, a theory based on the assumption that mathematicians and peasants are equal, can never work. Wisdom is not additive; its maximum is that of the wisest man in a given group.

“But a democratic form of government is okay, as long as it doesn’t work. Any social organization does well enough if it isn’t rigid. The framework doesn’t matter as long as there is enough looseness to permit that one man in a multitude to display his genius. Most so-called social scientists seem to think that organization is everything. It is almost nothing–except when it is a straitjacket. It is the incidence of heroes that counts, not the pattern of zeros.”

He added, “Your country has a system free enough to let its heroes work at their trade. It should last a long time–unless its looseness is destroyed from inside.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am right. This subject I know and I’m not stupid, as Nebbi thinks. He’s right about the futility of ‘adding zeros’–but he doesn’t realize that he is a zero.”

I grinned. “No point in letting a zero get my goat.”

“None. Especially as you are not. Wherever you go, you will make yourself felt, you won’t be one of the nerd. I respect you, and I don’t respect many. Never people as a whole, I could never be a democrat at heart. To claim to ‘respect’ and even to ‘love’ the great mass with their yaps at one end and smelly feet
at the other requires the fatuous, uncritical, saccharine, blind, sentimental slobbishness found in some nursery supervisors, most spaniel dogs, and all missionaries. It isn’t a political system, it’s a disease. But be of good cheer; your American politicians are immune to this disease . . . and your customs allow the non-zero elbow room.”

Rufo glanced at my sword again. “Old friend, you didn’t come here to bitch about Nebbi.” “No.” I looked down at that keen blade. “I fetched this to shave you, Rufo.”

“Eh?”

“I promised I would shave your corpse. I owe it to you for the slick job you did on me. So here I am,
to shave the barber.”

He said slowly, “But I’m not yet a corpse.” He did not move. But his eyes did, estimating distance between us. Rufo wasn’t counting on my being “chivalrous”; he had lived too long.

“Oh, that can be arranged,” I said cheerfully, “unless I get straight answers from you.”

He relaxed a touch. “I’ll try, Oscar.”

“More than try, please. You’re my last chance. Rufo, this must be private. Even from Star.”

“Under the Rose. My word on it.”

“With your fingers crossed, no doubt. But don’t risk it, I’m serious. And straight answers, I need them. I want advice about my marriage.”

He looked glum. “And I meant to go out today. Instead I worked. Oscar, I would rather criticize a woman’s firstborn, or even her taste in hats. Much safer to teach a shark to bite. What if I refuse?”

“Then I shave you!”

“You would, you heavy-handed headsman!” He frowned. ” ‘Straight answers–‘ You don’t want them, you want a shoulder to cry on.”

“Maybe that, too. But I do want straight answers, not the lies you can tell in your sleep.”

“So I lose either way. Telling a man the truth about his marriage is suicide. I think I’ll sit tight and see if
you have the heart to cut me down in cold blood.”

“Oh, Rufo, I’ll put my sword under your lock and key if you like. You know I would never draw against you.”

“I know no such thing,” he said querulously. “There’s always that first time. Scoundrels are predictable, but you’re a man of honor and that frightens me. Can’t we handle this over the see-speak?”

“Come off it, Rufo. I’ve nobody else to turn to. I want you to speak frankly. I know that a marriage counselor has to lay it on the line, pull no punches. For the sake of blood we’ve lost together I ask you to advise me. And frankly, of course!”

” ‘Of course,’ is it? The last time I risked it you were for cutting the tongue out of me.” He looked at me moodily. “But I was ever a fool where friendship speaks. Hear, I’ll dicker ye a fair dicker. You talk, I’ll listen . . . and if it should come about that you’re taking so long that my tired old kidneys complain and I’m forced to leave your welcome company for a moment . . . why, then you’ll misunderstand and go away in a huff and we’ll say no more about it. Eh?”

“Okay.”

“The Chair recognizes you. Proceed.”

So I talked. I talked out my dilemma and frustration, sparing neither self nor Star (it was for her sake, too, and it wasn’t necessary to speak of our most private matters; those, at least, were dandy). But I told our quarrels and many matters best kept in the family, I had to.

Rufo listened. Presently he stood up and paced, looking troubled. Once he tut-tutted over the men Star had brought home. “She shouldn’t have called her maids in. But do forget it, lad. She never remembers that men are shy, whereas females merely have customs. Allow Her this.”

Later he said, “No need to be jealous of Jocko, son. He drives a tack with a sledgehammer.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what Menelaus said. But leave room for give and take. Every marriage needs it.”

Finally I ran down, having told him Star’s prediction that I would leave. “I’m not blaming her for anything and talking about it has straightened me out. I can sweat it out now, behave myself, and be a good husband. She does make terrible sacrifices to do her job–and the least I can do is make it easier. She’s so sweet and gentle and good.”

Rufo stopped, some distance away with his back to his desk. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“She’s an old bag!”

I was out of my chair and at him at once. I didn’t draw. Didn’t think of it, wouldn’t have anyhow. I wanted to get my hands on him and punish him for talking that way about my beloved.

He bounced over the desk like a ball and by the time I covered the length of the room, Rufo was behind it, one hand in a drawer.

“Naughty, naughty,” he said. “Oscar, I don’t want to shave you.”

“Come out and fight like a man!”

“Never, old friend. One step closer and you’re dog meat. All your fine promises, your pleadings. ‘Pull no punches’ you said. ‘Lay it on the line’ you said. ‘Speak frankly’ you said. Sit down in that chair.”

” ‘Speaking frankly’ doesn’t mean being insulting!”

“Who’s to judge? Can I submit my remains for approval before I make them? Don’t compound your broken promises with childish illogic. And would you force me to buy a new rug? I never keep one I’ve killed a friend on; the stains make me gloomy. Sit down in that chair.”

I sat down.

“Now,” said Rufo, staying where he was, “you will listen while I talk. Or perhaps you will get up and walk out. In which case I might be so pleased to see the last of your ugly face that that might be that. Or I might be so annoyed at being interrupted that you would drop dead in the doorway, for I’ve much pent
up and ready to spill over. Suit yourself.

“I said,” he went on, “that my grandmother is an old bag. I said it brutally, to discharge your tension–and now you’re not likely to take too much offense at many offensive things I still must say. She’s old, you know that, though no doubt you find it easy to forget, mostly. I forget it myself, mostly, even though She was old when I was a babe making messes on the floor and crowing at the dear sight of Her. Bag, She is, and you know it. I could have said ‘experienced woman’ but I had to rap your teeth with it; you’ve been dodging it even while you’ve been telling me how well you know it–and how you don’t care. Granny is an old bag, we start from there.

“And why should She be anything else? Tell yourself the answer. You’re not a fool, you’re merely young. Ordinarily She has but two possible pleasures and the other She can’t indulge.”

“What’s the other one?”

“Handing down bad decisions through sadistic spite, that’s the one She dare not indulge. So let us be thankful that Her body has built into it this harmless safety valve, else we would all suffer grievously before somebody managed to kill Her. Lad, dear lad, can you dream how mortal tired She must be of most things? Your own zest soured in only months. Think what it must be to hear the same old weary mistakes year after year with nothing to hope for but a clever assassin. Then be thankful that She still pleasures in one innocent pleasure. So She’s an old bag and I mean no disrespect; I salute a beneficent balance between two things She must be to do her job.

“Nor did She stop being what She is by reciting a silly rhyme with you one bright day on a hilltop. You think She has taken a vacation from it since, sticking to you only. Possibly She has, if you have quoted Her exactly and I read the words rightly; She always tells the truth.

“But never all the truth–who can? –and She is the most skillful liar by telling the truth you’ll ever meet. I misdoubt your memory missed some innocent-sounding word that gave an escape yet saved your feelings.

“If so, why should She do more than save your feelings? She’s fond of you, that’s dear–but must She be fanatic about it? All Her training, Her special bent, is to avoid fanaticism always, find practical answers. Even though She may not have mixed up the shoes, as yet, if you stay on a week or a year or twenty and time comes when She wants to. She can find ways, not lie to you in words–and hurt Her conscience not at all because She hasn’t any. Just Wisdom, utterly pragmatic.”

Rufo cleared his throat. “Now refutation and counterpoint and contrariwise. I like my grandmother and love Her as much as my meager nature permits and respect Her right down to Her sneaky soul–and I’ll kill you or anyone who gets in Her way or causes Her unhappiness–and only part of this is that She has
handed on to me a shadow of Her own self so that I understand Her. If She is spared assassins knife or blast or poison long enough, She’ll go down in history as ‘The Great.’ But you spoke of Her ‘terrible sacrifices.’ Ridiculous! She likes being ‘Her Wisdom,’ the Hub around which all worlds turn. Nor do I believe that She would give it up for you or fifty better. Again, She didn’t lie, as you’ve told it–She said ‘if’ . . . knowing that much can happen in thirty year’s, or twenty-five, among which is the near certainty that you wouldn’t stay that long. A swindle.

“But that’s the least of swindles She’s put over on you. She conned you from the moment you first saw Her and long before. She cheated both ways from the ace, forced you to pick the shell with the pea, sent you like any mark anxious for the best of it, cooled you off when you started to suspect, herded you back into line and to your planned fate–and made you like it. She’s never fussy about method and would con the Virgin Mary and make a pact with the Old One all in one breath, did it suit Her purpose. Oh, you got paid, yes, and good measure to boot; there’s nothing small about Her. But its time you knew you were conned. Mind you, I’m not criticizing Her, I’m applauding–and I helped . . . save for one queasy
moment when I felt sorry for the victim. But you were so conned you wouldn’t listen, thank any saints who did. I lost my nerve for a bit, thinking that you were going to a sticky death with your innocent eyes wide. But She was smarter than I am. She always has been.

“Now! I like Her. I respect Her. I admire Her. I even love Her a bit. All of Her, not just Her pretty aspects but also all the impurities that make Her steel as hard as it must be. How about you, sir? What’s your feeling about Her now . . . knowing She conned you, knowing what She is?”

I was still sitting. My drink was by me, untouched all this long harangue.

I took it and stood up. “Here’s to the grandest old bag in twenty universes!”

Rufo bounced over the desk again, grabbed his glass. “Say that loud and often! And to Her, She’d love it! May She be blessed by God, Whoever He is, and kept safe. We’ll never see another like Her, mores the pity! –for we need them by the gross!”

We tossed it down and smashed our grasses. Rufo fetched fresh ones, poured, settled in his chair, and said, “Now for serious drinking. Did I ever tell you about the time my–”

“You did. Rufo, I want to know about this swindle.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I can see much of it. Take that first time we flew–”

He shuddered. “Lets not.”

“I never wondered then. But, since Star can do this, we could have skipped Igli, the Horned Ghosts, the marsh, the time wasted with Jocko–”

“Wasted?”

“For her purpose. And the rats and hogs and possibly the dragons. Flown directly from that first Gate to the second. Right?”

He shook his head. “Wrong.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Assuming that She could fly us that far, a question I hope never to settle, She could have flown us to the Gate She preferred. What would you have done then? If popped almost directly from Nice to Karth-Hokesh? Charged out and fought like a wolverine, as you did? Or said ‘Miss, you’ve made a mistake. Show me the exit from this Fun House–I’m not laughing.’ ”

“Well–I wouldn’t have bugged out”

“But would you have won? Would you have been at that keen edge of readiness it took?”

“I see. Those first rounds were live ammo exercises in my training. Or was it live ammo? Was all that first part swindle? Maybe with hypnotism, to make it feel right? God knows she’s expert. No danger till we reached the Black Tower?”

He shuddered again. “No, no! Oscar, any of that could have killed us. I never fought harder in my life, nor was ever more frightened. None of it could be skipped. I don’t understand all Her reasons. I’m not Her Wisdom. But She would never risk Herself unless necessary. She would sacrifice ten million brave men, were it needed, as the cheaper price. She knows what She’s worth. But She fought beside us with all She has–you saw! Because it had to be.”

“I still don’t understand all of it.”

“Nor will you. Nor will I. She would have sent you in alone, had it been possible. And at that last supreme danger, that thing called ‘Eater of Souls’ because it had done just that to many braves before you . . . had you lost to it, She and I would have tried to fight our way out–I was ready, any moment; I couldn’t tell you–and if we had escaped–unlikely–She would have shed no tears for you. Or not many. Then worked another twenty or thirty or a hundred years to find and con and train anther champion–and fought just as hard by his side. She has courage, that cabbage. She knew how thin our chances were; you didn’t. Did She flinch?”

“No.”

“But you were the key, first to be found, then ground to fit. You yourself act, you’re never a puppet, or
you could never have won. She was the only one who could nudge and wheedle such a man and place


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him where he would act; no lesser person than She could handle the scale of hero She needed. So She
searched until She found him . . . and honed him fine. Tell me, why did you take up the sword? It’s no
common in America.”

“What?” I had to think. Reading ‘King Arthur’ and ‘The Three Musketeers’, and Burroughs wonderful Mars stories–But every kid does that. “When we moved to Florida, I was a Scout. The Scoutmaster was a Frenchman, taught high school. He started some of us lads. I liked it, it was something I did well. Then in college–”

“Ever wonder why that immigrant got that job in that town? And volunteered for Scout work? Or why your college had a fencing team when many don’t? No matter, if you had gone elsewhere, there would have been fencing in a YMCA or something. Didn’t you have more combat than most of your category?”

“Hell, yes!”

“Could have been killed anytime, too–and She would have turned to another candidate already being honed. Son, I don’t know how you were selected, nor now you were converted from a young punk into the hero you potentially were. Not my job. Mine was simpler–just more dangerous–your groom and your ‘eyes-behind.’ Look around. Fancy quarters for a servant, eh?”

“Well, yes. I had almost forgotten that you were supposed to be my groom.”

” ‘Supposed,’ hell! I was. I went three times to Nevia as Her servant, training for it. Jocko doesn’t know to this day. If I went back, I would be welcome, I think. But only in the kitchen.”

“But why? That part seems silly.”

“Was it? When we snared you, your ego was in feeble shape, it had to be built up–and calling you ‘Boss’ and serving your meals while I stood and you sat, with Her, was part of it.” He gnawed a knuckle and looked annoyed. “I still think She witched your first two arrows. Someday I’d like a return match–with Her not around.”

“I may fool you. I’ve been practicing.”

“Well, forget it. We got the Egg, that’s the important thing. And here’s this bottle and that’s important, too.” He poured again. “Will that be all, ‘Boss’?”

“Damn you, Rufo! Yes, you sweet old scoundrel. You’ve straightened me out. Or conned me again, I don’t know which.”

“No con, Oscar, by the blood we’ve shed. I’ve told the truth as straight as I know it, though it hurt me. I didn’t want to, you’re my friend. Walking that rocky road with you I shall treasure all the days of my life.”

“Uh . . . yes. Me, too. All of it.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“Rufo, I understand her now–as well as an ordinary person can–and respect her utterly . . . and love her more than ever. But I can’t be anybody’s fancy man. Not even here.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to say that. Yes. She’s right She’s always right, damn Her! You must leave. For both of you. Oh, She wouldn’t be hurt too much but staying would ruin you, in time. Destroy you, if you’re stubborn.

“I had better get back–and toss my shoes.” I felt better, as if I had told the surgeon: Go ahead. Amputate.

“Don’t do that!”

“What?”

“Why should you? No need for anything final If a marriage is to last a long time–and yours might, even a very long time–then holidays should be long, too. And off the leash, son, with no date to report back and no promises. She knows that knights errant spend their nights erring, She expects it. It has always been so, un droit de la vocation–and necessary. They just don’t mention it in kiddies’ stories where you come from. So go see what’s stirring in your line of work elsewhere and don’t worry. Come back in four or forty years or something, you’ll be welcome. Heroes always sit at the first table, it s their right. And they come and go as they please, and that’s their right, too. On a smaller scale, you re something like Her.”

“High compliment!”

“On a ‘smaller scale,’ I said. Mmm, Oscar, part of your trouble is a need to go home. Your birthing land. To regain your perspective and find out who you are. All travelers feel this, I feel it myself from time to time. When the feeling comes, I pamper it.”

“I hadn’t realized I was homesick. Maybe I am.”

“Maybe She realized it. Maybe She nudged you. Myself, I make it a rule to give any wife of mine a vacation from me whenever her face looks too familiar–for mine must be even more so to her, looking as I do. Why not, lad? Going back to Earth isn’t the same as dying. I’m going there soon, that’s why I’m clearing up this paper work. Happens we might be there the same time . . . and get together for a drink or ten and some laughs and stories. And pinch the waitress and see what she says. Why not?”

Chapter 21

Okay, here I am.

I didn’t leave that week but soon. Star and I spent a tearful, glorious night before I left and she cried as she kissed me “Au ‘voir” (not “Good-bye”). But I knew her tears would dry once I was out of sight; she knew that I knew and I knew she preferred it so, and so did I. Even though I cried, too.

Pan American isn’t as slick as the commercial Gates; I was bunged through in three fast changes and o hocus-pocus. A girl said, “Places, please”–then whambo!

I came out on Earth, dressed in a London suit, pass-port and papers in pocket, the Lady Vivamus in a kit that did not look like a sword case, and in other pockets drafts exchangeable for much gold, for I found that I didn’t mind accepting a hero’s fee. I arrived near Zurich, I don’t know the address; the Gate service sees to that. Instead, I had ways to send messages.

Shortly those drafts became, numbered accounts in three Swiss banks, handled by a lawyer I had been told to see. I bought travelers checks several places and some I mailed ahead and some I carried, for I had no intention of paying Uncle Sugar 91 percent.

You lose track of time on a different day and calendar; there was a week or two left on that free ride home my orders called for. It seemed smart to take it–less conspicuous. So I did–an old four-engine transport, Prestwick to Gander to New York.

Streets looked dirtier, buildings not as tall–and headlines worse than ever. I quit reading newspapers, didn’t stay long; California I thought of as “home.” I phoned Mother; she was reproachful about my not having written and I promised to visit Alaska as soon as I could. How were they all? (I had in mind that my half brothers and sisters might need college help someday.)

They weren’t hurting. My stepfather was on flight orders and had made permanent grade. I asked her to forward any mail to my aunt.

California looked better than New York. But it wasn’t Nevia. Not even Center. It was more crowded than I remembered. All you can say for California towns is that they aren’t as bad as other places. I visited my aunt and uncle because they had been good to me and I was thinking of using some of that gold in Switzerland to buy him free from his first wife. But she had died and they were talking about a swimming pool.

So I kept quiet. I had been almost ruined by too much money, it had grown me up a bit. I followed the rule of Their Wisdoms: Leave well enough alone.

The campus felt smaller and the students looked so young. Reciprocal, I guess. I was coming out of the malt shop across from Administration when two Letter sweaters came in, shoving me aside. The second said, “Watch it, Dad!”

I let him live.

Football had been re-emphasized, new coach, new dressing rooms, stands painted, talk about a stadium. The coach knew who I was; he knew the records and was out to make a name. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?” I told him I didn’t think so.

“Nonsense!” he said. “Gotta get that old sheepskin! Silliest thing on earth to let your hitch in the Army stop you. Now look–” His voice dropped.

No nonsense about “sweeping the gym,” stuff the Conference didn’t like. But a boy could live with a family–and one could be found. If he paid his fees in cash, who cared? Quiet as an undertaker–“That leaves your GI benefits for pocket money.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Man, don’t you read the papers?” He had it on file: While I was gone, that unWar had been made eligible for GI benefits.

I promised to think it over.

But I had no such intention. I had indeed decided to finish my engineering degree, I like to finish things. But not there.

That evening I heard from Joan, the girl who had given me such a fine sendoff, then “Dear-Johnned” me. I intended to look her up, call on her and her husband; I just hadn’t found out her married name yet. But she ran across my aunt, shopping, and phoned me. “Easy!” she said and sounded delighted.

“Who–Wait a minute, Joan!”

I must come to dinner that very night. I told her “Fine,” and that I was looking forward to meeting the lucky galoot she had married.

Joan looked sweet as ever and gave me a hearty arms-around-my-neck smack, a welcome-home kiss, sisterly but good. Then I met the kids, one crib size and the other toddling.

Her husband was in L.A.

Her sister and brother-in-law stayed for one drink; Joan and her sister put the kids to bed while the brother-in-law sat with me and asked how things were in Europe he understood I was just back and then he told me how things were in Europe and what should be done about them. “You know, Mr. Jordan,” he told me, tapping my knee, “a man in the real estate business like I am gets to be a pretty shrewd judge of human nature has to be and while I haven’t actually been in Europe the way you have haven’t had time somebody has to stay home and pay taxes and keep an eye on things while you lucky young fellows are seeing the world but human nature is the same anywhere and if we dropped just one little bomb on Minsk or Pinsk or one of those places they would see the light right quick and we could stop all this diddling around that’s making it tough on the businessman. Don’t you agree?”

I said he had a point. They left and he said that he would ring me tomorrow and show me some choice lots that could be handled on almost nothing down and were certain to go way up what with a new missile plant coming in here soon. “Nice listening to your experiences, Mr. Jordan, real pleasant. Sometime I must tell you about something that happened to me in Tijuana but not with the wife around ha ha!”

Joan said to me, “I can’t see why she married him. Pour me another drink, hon, a double, I need it. I’m going to turn the oven down, dinner will keep.”

We both had a double and then another, and had dinner about eleven. Joan got tearful when I insisted on going home around three. She told me I was chicken and I agreed; she told me things could have been so different if I hadn’t insisted on going into the Army and I agreed again; she told me to go out the back way and not turn on any lights and she never wanted to see me again and Jim was going to Sausalito the seventeenth.

I caught a plane for Los Angeles next day.

Now look–I am not blaming Joan. I like Joan. I respect her and will always be grateful to her. She is a fine person. With superior early advantages–say in Nevia–she’d be a wow! She’s quite a gal, even so. Her house was clean, her babies were clean and healthy and well cared for. She’s generous and thoughtful and good-tempered.

Nor do I feel guilty. If a man has any regard for a girl’s feelings, there is one thing he cannot refuse: a return bout if she wants one. Nor will I pretend that I didn’t want it, too.

But I felt upset all the way to Los Angeles. Not over her husband, he wasn’t hurt. Not over Joanie, she was neither swept off her feet nor likely to suffer remorse. Joanie is a good kid and had made a good adjustment between her nature and an impossible society.

Still, I was upset.

A man must not criticize a woman’s most womanly quality. I must make it clear that little Joanie was just as sweet and just as generous as the younger Joanie who had sent me off to the Army feeling grand. The fault lay with me; I had changed.

My complaints are against the whole culture with no individual sharing more than a speck of blame. Let me quote that widely traveled culturologist and rake, Dr. Rufo:

“Oscar, when you get home, don’t expect too much of your feminine compatriots. You’re sure to be disappointed and the poor dears aren’t to blame. American women, having been conditioned out of their sex instincts, compensate by compulsive interest in rituals over the dead husk of sex . . . and each one is sure she knows ‘intuitively’ the right ritual for conjuring the corpse. She knows and nobody can tell her any different . . . especially a man unlucky enough to be in bed with her. So don’t try. You will either make her furious or crush her spirit. You’ll be attacking that most Sacred of Cows: the myth that women know all about sex, just from being women.”

Rufo had frowned. “The typical American female is sure that she has genius as a couturiere as an interior decorator, as a gourmet cook, and, always, as a courtesan. Usually she is wrong on four counts. But don’t try to tell her so.”

He had added, “Unless you can catch one not over twelve and segregate her, especially from her mother–and even that may be too late. But don’t misunderstand me; it evens out. The American male is convinced that he is a great warrior, a great statesman, and a great lover. Spot checks prove that he is as deluded as she is. Or worse. Historo-culturally speaking, there is strong evidence that the American male, rattier than the female, murdered sex in your country.”

“What can I do about it?”

“Slip over to France now and then. French women are almost as ignorant but not nearly as conceited and often are teachable.”

When my plane landed, I put the subject out of mind as I planned to be an anchorite a while. I learned in the Army that no sex is easier than a starvation allowance–and I had serious plans.

I had decided to be the square I naturally am, with hard work and a purpose in life. I could have used those Swiss bank accounts to be a playboy. But I had been a playboy, it wasn’t my style.

I had been on the biggest binge in history–one I wouldn’t believe if I didn’t have so much loot. Now was time to settle down and join Heroes Anonymous. Being a hero is okay. But a retired hero–first he’s a bore, then he’s a bum.

My first stop was Caltech. I could now afford the best and Caltech’s only rival is where they tried to outlaw sex entirely. I had seen enough of the dreary graveyard in 1942-45.

The Dean of Admissions was not encouraging. “Mr. Gordon, you know that we turn down more than we accept? Nor could we give you full credit on this transcript. No slur on your former school–and we do like to give ex-servicemen a break–but this school has higher standards. Another thing, you won’t find Pasadena a cheap place to live.”

I said I would be happy to take whatever standing I merited, and showed him my bank balance (one of them) and offered a check for a years fees. He wouldn’t take it but loosened up. I left with the impression that a place might be found for E. C. “Oscar” Gordon.

I went downtown and started the process to make me legally “Oscar” instead of “Evelyn Cyril.” Then I started job hunting.

I found one out in the Valley, as a junior draftsman in a division of a subsidiary of a corporation that made tires, food machinery, and other things–missiles in this case. This was part of the Gordon Rehabilitation Plan. A few months over the drafting board would get me into the swing again and I planned to study evenings and behave myself. I found a furnished apartment in Sawtelle and bought a used Ford for commuting.

I felt relaxed then; “Milord Hero” was buried. All that was left was the Lady Vivamus, hanging over the television. But I balanced her in hand first and got a thrill out of it. I decided to find a salle d’armes and join its club. I had seen an archery range in the Valley, too, and there ought to be someplace where American Rifle Association members fired on Sundays. No need to get flabby-

Meanwhile I would forget the loot in Switzerland. It was payable in gold, not funny money, and if I let it sit. It might be worth more–maybe much more–from inflation than from investing it. Someday it would be capital, when I opened my own firm.

That’s what I had my sights on: Boss. A wage slave, even in brackets where Uncle Sugar takes more than half, is still a slave. But I had learned from Her Wisdom that a boss must train; I could not buy “Boss” with gold.

So I settled down. My name change came through; Caltech conceded that I could look forward to moving to Pasadena–and mail caught up with me.

Mother sent it to my aunt, she forwarded it to the hotel address I had first given, eventually it reached my flat. Some were letters mailed in the States over a year ago, sent on to Southeast Asia, then Germany, then Alaska, then more changes before I read them in Sawtelle.

One offered that bargain on investment service again; this time I could Knock off 10 percent more. Another was from the coach at college–on plain stationery and signed in a scrawl. He said certain parties were determined to see the season start off with a bang. Would $250 per month change my mind? Phone his home number, collect. I tore it up.

The next was from the Veterans Administration, dated just after my discharge, telling me that as a result of Barton vs. United States, et al., it had been found that I was legally a “war orphan” and entitled to $110/month for schooling until age twenty-three.

I laughed so hard I hurt.

After some junk was one from a Congressman. He had the honor to inform me that, in cooperation with the Veterans of Foreign Wars, he had submitted a group of special bills to correct injustices resulting from failure to classic correctly persons who were “war orphans,” that the bills had passed under consent, and that he was happy to say that one affecting me allowed me to my twenty-seventh birthday to complete my education inasmuch as my twenty-third birthday had passed before the error was rectified. I am, sir, sincerely, etc.

I couldn’t laugh. I thought how much dirt I would have eaten, or–you name it–the summer I was conscripted if I had been sure of $110 a month. I wrote that Congressman a thank-you letter, the best I knew how.

The next item looked like junk. It was from Hospitals’ Trust, Ltd., therefore a pitch for a donation or a hospital insurance ad–but I couldn’t see why anyone in Dublin would have me on their list.

Hospitals’ Trust asked if I had Irish Hospitals’ Sweepstakes ticket number such-and-such, and its official receipt? This ticket had been sold to J. L. Weatherby, Esq. Its number had been drawn in the second unit drawing, and had been a ticket of the winning horse. J. L. Weatherby had been informed and had notified Hospitals’ Trust, Ltd., that he had disposed of ticket to E. C. Gordon, and, on receiving receipt, had mailed it to such party.

Was I the “E. C. Gordon,” did I have the ticket, did I have the receipt? H. T. Ltd. would appreciate an early reply.

The last item in the stack had an A.P.O. return address. In it was an Irish Sweepstakes receipt–and a note; ‘This should teach me not to play poker. Hope it wins you something–J. L. WEATHERBY.’ The cancellation was over a year old.

I stared at it, then got the papers I had carried through the Universes. I found the matching ticket. It was bloodstained but the number was clear.

I looked at the letter. Second unit drawing-

I started examining tickets under bright light. The others were counterfeit. But the engraving of this ticket and this receipt was sharp as paper money. I don’t know where Weatherby bought that ticket, but he did not buy it from the thief who sold me mine.

Second drawing–I hadn’t known there was more than one. But drawings depend on the number of tickets sold, in units of £120,000. I had seen the results of only the first.

Weatherby had mailed the receipt care of Mother, to Wiesbaden, and it must have been in Elmendorf when I was in Nice–then had gone to Nice, and back to Elmendorf because Rufo had left a forwarding address with American Express; Rufo had known all about me of course and had taken steps to cover my disappearance.

On that morning over a year earlier while I sat in a cafe in Nice, I held a winning ticket with the receipt in the mail. If I had looked farther in that Herald-Tribune than the “Personal” ads I would have found the results of the Second Unit drawing and never answered that ad.

I would have collected $140,000, never have seen Star a second time-

Or would Her Wisdom have been balked?

Would I have refused to follow my “Helen of Troy” simply because my pockets were lined with money?

I gave myself the benefit of doubt. I would have walked the Glory Road anyhow!

At least, I hoped so.

Next morning I phoned the plant, then went to a bank and through a routine I had gone through twice

in Nice.

Yes, it was a good ticket. Could the bank be of service in collecting it? I thanked them and left.

A little man from Internal Revenue was on my doorstep-

Almost–He buzzed from below while I was writing to Hospitals’ Trust, Ltd.

Presently I was telling him that I was damned if I would! I’d leave the money in Europe and they could whistle! He said mildly not to take that attitude, as I was just blowing off steam because the IRS didn’t like paying informers’ fees but would if my actions showed that I was trying to evade the tax.

They had me boxed. I collected $140,000 and paid $103,000 to Uncle Sugar. The mild little man pointed out that it was better that way; so often people put off paying and got into trouble.

Had I been in Europe, it would have been $140,000 in gold–but now it was $37,000 in paper–because free and sovereign Americans can’t have gold. They might start a war, or turn Communist, or something. No, I couldn’t leave the $37,000 in Europe as gold; that was illegal, too. They were very polite.

I mailed 10 percent, $3,700, to Sgt. Weatherby and told him the story. I took $33,000 and set up a college trust for my siblings, handled so that my folks wouldn’t know until it was needed. I crossed my fingers and hoped that news about this ticket would not reach Alaska. The L.A. papers never had it, but word got around somehow; I found myself on endless sucker lists, got letters offering golden opportunities begging loans, or demanding gifts.

It was a month before I realized I had forgotten the California State Income Tax. I never did sort out the red ink.

Chapter 22

I got back to the old drawing board, slugged away at books in the evening, watched a little television, weekends some fencing.

But I kept having this dream-

I had it first right after I took that job and now I was having it every night-

I’m heading along this long, long road and I round a curve and there’s a castle up ahead. It’s beautiful, pennants flying from turrets and a winding climb to its drawbridge. But I know, I just know, that there is a princess captive in its dungeon.

That part is always the same. Details vary. Lately the mild little man from Internal Revenue steps into the road and tells me that toll is paid here–10 percent more than whatever I’ve got.

Other times it’s a cop and he leans against my horse (sometimes it has four legs, sometimes eight) and writes a ticket for obstructing traffic, riding with out-of-date license, failing to observe stop sign, and gross insubordination. He wants to know if I have a permit to carry that lance? –and tells me that game laws require me to tag any dragons killed.

Other times I round that turn and a solid wave of freeway traffic, five lanes wide, is coming at me. That one is worst.

I started writing this after the dreams started. I couldn’t see going to a headshrinker and saying, “Look, Doc, I’m a hero by trade and my wife is Empress in another universe–” I had even less desire to lie on his couch and tell how my parents mistreated me as a child (they didn’t) and how I found out about little girls (that s my business).

I decided to talk it out to a typewriter.

It made me feel better but didn’t stop the dreams. But I learned a new word: “acculturated.” It’s what happens when a member of one culture shifts to another, with a sad period when he doesn’t fit. Those Indians you see in Arizona towns, not doing anything, looking in shop windows or just standing. Acculturation. They don’t fit.

I was taking a bus down to see my ear, nose, and throat doctor–Star promised me that her therapy plus that at Center would free me of the common cold–and it has; I don’t catch anything. But even therapists that administer Long-Life can’t protect human tissues against poison gas; L.A. smog was getting me. Eyes burning, nose stopped up–twice a week I went down to get horrid things done to my nose. I used to park my car and go down Wilshire by bus, as parking was impossible close in.

In the bus I overheard two ladies: “–much as I despise them, you can’t give a cocktail party without inviting the Sylvesters.”

It sounded like a foreign language. Then I played it back and understood the words.

But why did she have to invite the Sylvesters?

If she despised them, why didn’t she either ignore them, or drop a rock on their heads?

In God’s name, why give a “cocktail party”? People who don’t like each other particularly, standing around (never enough chairs), talking about things they aren’t interested in, drinking drinks they don’t want (why set a time to take a drink?) and getting high so that they won’t notice they aren’t having fun. Why?

I realized that acculturation had set in. I didn’t fit.

I avoided buses thereafter and picked up five traffic tickets and a smashed fender. I quit studying, too. Books didn’t seem to make sense. It warn’t the way I lamed it back in dear old Center.

But I stuck to my job as a draftsman. I always have been able to draw and soon I was promoted to major work.

One day the Chief Draftsman called me over. “Here, Gordon, this assembly you did–”

I was proud of that job. I had remembered something I had seen on Center and had designed it in, reducing moving parts and improving a clumsy design into one that made me feel good. It was tricky and I had added an extra view. “Well?”

He handed it back. “Do it over. Do it right.”

I explained the improvement and that I had done the drawing a better way to-

He cut me off. “We don’t want it done a better way, we want it done our way.”

“Your privilege,” I agreed and resigned by walking out.

My flat seemed strange at that time on a working day. I started to study ‘Strength of Materials’–and chucked the book aside. Then I stood and looked at the Lady Vivamus.

“Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!” Whistling, I buckled her on, drew blade, felt that thrill run up my arm.

I returned sword, got a few things, traveler’s checks and cash mostly, walked out. I wasn’t going anywhere, just tataway!

I had been striding along maybe twenty minutes when a prowl car pulled up and took me to the station.

Why was I wearing that thing? I explained that gentlemen wore swords.

If I would tell them what movie company I was with, a phone call could clear it up. Or was it television? The Department cooperated but liked to be notified.

Did I have a license for concealed weapons? I said it wasn’t concealed. They told me it was–by that scabbard. I mentioned the Constitution; I was told that the Constitution sure as hell didn’t mean walking around city streets with a toad sticker like that. A cop whispered to the sergeant, “Here’s what we got him on, Sarge. The blade is longer than–” I think it was three inches. There was trouble when they tried to take the Lady Vivamus away from me. Finally I was locked up, sword and all.

Two hours later my lawyer got it changed to “disorderly conduct” and I was released, with talk of a sanity hearing.

I paid him and thanked him and took a cab to the airport and a plane to San Francisco. At the port I bought a large bag, one that would take the Lady Vivamus cater-cornered.

Charlie said he agreed perfectly and his friends would like to hear it. So we went and I paid the driver to wait but took my suitcase inside.

Charlie’s friends didn’t want to hear my theories but the wine was welcome and I sat on the floor and listened to folk singing. The men wore beards and didn’t comb their hair. The beards helped, it made it easy to tell which were girls. One beard stood up and recited a poem. Old Jocko could do better blind drunk but I didn’t say so.

It wasn’t like a party in Nevia and certainly not in Center, except this: I got propositioned. I might have considered it if this girl hadn’t been wearing sandals. Her toes were dirty. I thought of Zhai-ee-van and her dainty, clean fur, and told her thanks, I was under a vow.

The beard who had recited the poem came over and stood in front of me. “Man, like what rumble you picked up that scar?” I said it had been in Southeast Asia. He looked at me scornfully. “Mercenary!”

“Well, not always,” I told him. “Sometimes I fight for free. Like right now.”

I tossed him against a wall and took my suitcase outside and went to the airport–and then Seattle and Anchorage, Alaska, and wound up at Elmendorf AFB, clean, sober, and with the Lady Vivamus disguised as fishing tackle.

Mother was glad to see me and the kids seemed pleased–I had bought presents between planes in Seattle–and my stepdaddy and I swapped yarns.

I did one important thing in Alaska; I flew to Point Barrow. There I found part of what I was looking for: no pressure, no sweat, not many people. You look out across the ice and know that only the North Pole is over that way, and a few Eskimos and fewer white people here. Eskimos are every bit as nice as they have been pictured. Their babies never cry, the adults never seem cross–only the dogs staked-out between the huts are bad-tempered.

But Eskimos are “civilized” now; the old ways are going. You can buy a choc malt at Barrow and airplanes fly daily in a sky that may hold missiles tomorrow.

But they still seal amongst the ice floes, the village is rich when they take a whale, half starved if they don’t. They don’t count time and they don’t seem to worry about anything–ask a man how old he is, he answers: “Oh, I’m quite of an age.” That’s how old Rufo is. Instead of good-bye, they say, “Sometime again!” No particular time and again well see you.

They let me dance with them. You must wear gloves (in their way they are as formal as the Doral) and you stomp and sing with the drums–and I found myself weeping. I don’t know why. It was a dance about a little old man who doesn’t have a wife and now he sees a seal-

I said, “Sometime again!”–went back to Anchorage and to Copenhagen. From 30,000 feet the North

Pole looks like prairie covered with snow, except black lines that are water. I never expected to see the North Pole.

From Copenhagen I went to Stockholm. Majatta was not with her parents but was only a square away. She cooked me that Swedish dinner, and her husband is a good Joe. From Stockholm I phoned a “Personal” ad to the Paris edition of the Herald-Tribune, then went to Paris.

I kept the ad in daily and sat across from the Two Maggots and stacked saucers and tried not to fret. I watched the ma’m’selles and thought about what I might do.

If a man wanted to settle down for forty years or so, wouldn’t Nevia be a nice place? Okay, It has dragons. It doesn’t have flies, nor mosquitoes, nor smog. Nor parking problems, nor freeway complexes that look like diagrams for abdominal surgery. Not a traffic light anywhere.

Muri would be glad to see me. I might marry her. And maybe little whatever-her-name was, her kid sister, too. Why not? Marriage customs aren’t everywhere those they use in Paducah. Star would be pleased; she would like being related to Jocko by marriage.

But I would go see Star first, or soon anyhow, and kick that pile of strange shoes aside. But I wouldn’t stay; it would be “sometime again” which would suit Star. It is a phrase, one of the few, that translates exactly into Centrist jargon–and means exactly the same.

“Sometime again,” because there are other maidens, or pleasing facsimiles, elsewhere, in need of rescuing. Somewhere. And a man must work at his trade, which wise wives know.

“I cannot rest from travel; I will drink life to the lees.” A long road, a trail, a “Tramp Royal,” with no certainty of what you’ll eat or where or if, nor where you’ll sleep, nor with whom. But somewhere is Helen of Troy and all her many sisters and there is still noble work to be done.

A man can stack a lot of saucers in a month and I began to fume instead of dream. Why the hell didn’t Rufo show up? I brought this account up to date from sheer nerves. Has Rufo gone back? Or is he dead?

Or was he “never born”? Am I a psycho discharge and what is in this case I carry with me wherever I go? A sword? I’m afraid to look, so I do–and now I’m afraid to ask. I met an old sergeant once, a thirty-year man, who was convinced that he owned all the diamond mines in Africa; he spent his evenings keeping books on them. Am I just as happily deluded? Are these francs what is left of my monthly disability check?

Does anyone ever get two chances? Is the Door in the Wall always gone when next you look? Where do you catch the boat for Brigadoon? Brother, it’s like the post office in Brooklyn: You can’t get there from here!

I’m going to give Rufo two more weeks-

I’ve heard from Rufo! A clipping of my ad was for warded to him but he had a little trouble. He wouldn’t say much by phone but I gather he was mixed up with a carnivorous Fraulein and got over the border almost sans calottes. But he’ll be here tonight. He is quite agreeable to a change in planets and universes and says he has something interesting in mind. A little risky perhaps, but not dull. I’m sure he’s right both ways. Rufo might steal your cigarettes and certainly your wench but things aren’t dull around him–and he would die defending your rear.

So tomorrow we are heading up that Glory Road, rocks and all!

Got any dragons you need killed?

End

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
Link
Make America Great Again.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight
Types of American conservatives.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Life-Line (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

This is the short story “Life-Line” by Robert Heinlein. It describes an interesting situation. A Professor Pinero builds a machine that will predict how long a person will live. It does this by sending a signal along the world line of a person and detecting the echo from the far end. Professor Pinero’s invention has a powerful impact on the life insurance industry, as well as on his own life…

FOREWORD 

The beginning of 1939 found me flat broke following a disastrous political campaign (I ran a strong second best, but in politics there are no prizes for place or show). I was highly skilled in ordnance, gunnery, and fire control for Naval vessels, a skill for which there was no demand ashoreand I had a piece of paper from the Secretary of the Navy telling me that I was a waste of space—"totally and permanently disabledwas the phraseology. I "owneda heavily-mortgaged house. 

About then Thrilling Wonder Stories ran a house ad reading (more or less): 
GIANT PRIZE CONTEST—Amateur Writers!!!!!! 
First Prize $50 Fifty Dollars $50 
In 1939 one could fill three station wagons with fifty dollars worth of groceries. Today I can pick up fifty dollars in groceries unassistedperhaps I've grown stronger. So I wrote the story "Life-Line." It took me four daysI am a slow typist. But I did not send it to Thrilling Wonder; I sent it to Astounding, figuring they would not be so swamped with amateur short stories. 

Astounding bought it . . . for $70, or $20 more than that "Grand Prize"—and there was never a chance that I would ever again look for honest work. 

LIFE-LINE

The chairman rapped loudly for order. Gradually the catcalls and boos died away as several self-appointed sergeants-at-arms persuaded a few hot-headed individuals to sit down. The speaker on the rostrum by the chairman seemed unaware of the disturbance. His bland, faintly insolent face was impassive. The chairman turned to the speaker and addressed him in a voice in which anger and annoyance were barely restrained.

“Dr. Pinero”—the “Doctor” was faintly stressed—”I must apologize to you for the unseemly outburst during your remarks. I am surprised that my colleagues should so far forget the dignity proper to men of science as to interrupt a speaker, no matter”—he paused and set his mouth—”no matter how great the provocation.” Pinero smiled in his face, a smile that was in some way an open insult. The chairman visibly controlled his temper and continued: “I am anxious that the program be concluded decently and in order. I want you to finish your remarks. Nevertheless, I must ask you to refrain from affronting our intelligence with ideas that any educated man knows to be fallacious. Please confine yourself to your discovery—if you have made one.”

Pinero spread his fat, white hands, palms down. “How can I possibly put a new idea into your heads, if I do not first remove your delusions?”

The audience stirred and muttered. Someone shouted from the rear of the hall: “Throw the charlatan out! We’ve had enough.”

The chairman pounded his gavel.

“Gentlemen! Please!”

Then to Pinero, “Must I remind you that you are not a member of this body, and that we did not invite you?”

Pinero’s eyebrows lifted. “So? I seem to remember an invitation on the letterhead of the Academy.”

The chairman chewed his lower lip before replying. “True, I wrote that invitation myself. But it was at the request of one of the trustees—a fine, public-spirited gentleman, but not a scientist, not a member of the Academy.”

Pinero smiled his irritating smile. “So? I should have guessed. Old Bidwell, not so, of Amalgamated Life Insurance? And he wanted his trained seals to expose me as a fraud, yes? For if I can tell a man the day of his own death, no one will buy his pretty policies. But how can you expose me, if you will not listen to me first? Even supposing you had the wit to understand me? Bah! He has sent jackals to tear down a lion.” He deliberately turned his back on them.

The muttering of the crowd swelled and took on a vicious tone. The chairman cried vainly for order. There arose a figure in the front row.

“Mr. Chairman!”

The chairman grasped the opening and shouted: “Gentlemen! Dr. Van Rhein-Smitt has the floor.” The commotion died away.

The doctor cleared his throat, smoothed the forelock of his beautiful white hair, and thrust one hand into a side pocket of his smartly tailored trousers. He assumed his women’s-club manner.

“Mr. Chairman, fellow members of the Academy of Science, let us have tolerance. Even a murderer has the right to say his say before the State exacts its tribute. Shall we do less? Even though one may be intellectually certain of the verdict? I grant Dr. Pinero every consideration that should be given by this august body to any unaffiliated colleague, even though”—he bowed slightly in Pinero’s direction—”we may not be familiar with the university which bestowed his degree. If what he has to say is false, it cannot harm us. If what he has to say is true, we should know it.” His mellow, cultivated voice rolled on, soothing and calming. “If the eminent doctor’s manner appears a trifle inurbane for our tastes, we must bear in mind that the doctor may be from a place, or a stratum, not so meticulous in these matters. Now our good friend and benefactor has asked us to hear this person and carefully assess the merit of his claims. Let us do so with dignity and decorum.”

He sat down to a rumble of applause, comfortably aware that he had enhanced his reputation as an intellectual leader. Tomorrow the papers would again mention the good sense and persuasive personality of “America’s Handsomest University President.” Who knows; maybe now old Bidwell would come through with that swimming-pool donation.

When the applause had ceased, the chairman turned to where the center of the disturbance sat, hands folded over his little round belly, face serene.

“Will you continue, Dr. Pinero?”

“Why should I?”

The chairman shrugged his shoulders. “You came for that purpose.”

Pinero arose. “So true. So very true. But was I wise to come? Is there anyone here who has an open mind, who can stare a bare fact in the face without blushing? I think not. Even that so-beautiful gentleman who asked you to hear me out has already judged me and condemned me. He seeks order, not truth. Suppose truth defies order, will he accept it? Will you? I think not. Still, if I do not speak, you will win your point by default. The little man in the street will think that you little men have exposed me, Pinero, as a hoaxer, a pretender.

“I will repeat my discovery. In simple language, I have invented a technique to tell how long a man will live. I can give you advance billing of the Angel of Death. I can tell you when the Black Camel will kneel at your door. In five minutes’ time, with my apparatus, I can tell any of you how many grains of sand are still left in your hourglass.” He paused and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment no one spoke. The audience grew restless.

Finally the chairman intervened. “You aren’t finished, Dr. Pinero?”

“What more is there to say?”

“You haven’t told us how your discovery works.”

Pinero’s eyebrows shot up. “You suggest that I should turn over the fruits of my work for children to play with? This is dangerous knowledge, my friend. I keep it for the man who understands it, myself.” He tapped his chest.

“How are we to know that you have anything back of your wild claims?”

“So simple. You send a committee to watch me demonstrate. If it works, fine. You admit it and tell the world so. If it does not work, I am discredited, and will apologize. Even I, Pinero, will apologize.”

A slender, stoop-shouldered man stood up in the back of the hall. The chair recognized him and he spoke.

“Mr. Chairman, how can the eminent doctor seriously propose such a course? Does he expect us to wait around for twenty or thirty years for someone to die and prove his claims?”

Pinero ignored the chair and answered directly.

Pfui! Such nonsense! Are you so ignorant of statistics that you do not know that in any large group there is at least one who will die in the immediate future? I make you a proposition. Let me test each one of you in this room, and I will name the man who will die within the fortnight, yes, and the day and hour of his death.” He glanced fiercely around the room. “Do you accept?”

Another figure got to his feet, a portly man who spoke in measured syllables. “I, for one, cannot countenance such an experiment. As a medical man, I have noted with sorrow the plain marks of serious heart trouble in many of our older colleagues. If Dr. Pinero knows those symptoms, as he may, and were he to select as his victim one of their number, the man so selected would be likely to die on schedule, whether the distinguished speaker’s mechanical egg timer works or not.”

Another speaker backed him up at once. “Dr. Shepard is right. Why should we waste time on voodoo tricks? It is my belief that this person who calls himself Dr. Pinero wants to use this body to give his statements authority. If we participate in this farce, we play into his hands. I don’t know what his racket is, but you can bet that he has figured out some way to use us for advertising his schemes. I move, Mr. Chairman, that we proceed with our regular business.”

The motion carried by acclamation, but Pinero did not sit down. Amidst cries of “Order! Order!” he shook his untidy head at them, and had his say.

“Barbarians! Imbeciles! Stupid dolts! Your kind have blocked the recognition of every great discovery since time began. Such ignorant canaille are enough to start Galileo spinning in his grave. That fat fool down there twiddling his elk’s tooth calls himself a medical man. Witch doctor would be a better term! That little bald-headed runt over there— You! You style yourself a philosopher, and prate about life and time in your neat categories. What do you know of either one? How can you ever learn when you won’t examine the truth when you have a chance? Bah!” He spat upon the stage. “You call this an Academy of Science. I call it an undertakers’ convention, interested only in embalming the ideas of your red-blooded predecessors.”

He paused for breath and was grasped on each side by two members of the platform committee and rushed out the wings. Several reporters arose hastily from the press table and followed him. The chairman declared the meeting adjourned.* * *

The newspapermen caught up with Pinero as he was going out by the stage door. He walked with a light, springy step, and whistled a little tune. There was no trace of the belligerence he had shown a moment before. They crowded about him. “How about an interview, doc?” “What d’yuh think of modern education?” “You certainly told ’em. What are your views on life after death?” “Take off your hat, doc, and look at the birdie.”

He grinned at them all. “One at a time, boys, and not so fast. I used to be a newspaperman myself. How about coming up to my place?”

A few minutes later they were trying to find places to sit down in Pinero’s messy bed-living room, and lighting his cigars. Pinero looked around and beamed. “What’ll it be, boys? Scotch or Bourbon?” When that was taken care of he got down to business. “Now, boys, what do you want to know?”

“Lay it on the line, doc. Have you got something, or haven’t you?”

“Most assuredly I have something, my young friend.”

“Then tell us how it works. That guff you handed the profs won’t get you anywhere now.”

“Please, my dear fellow. It is my invention. I expect to make money with it. Would you have me give it away to the first person who asks for it?”

“See here, doc, you’ve got to give us something if you expect to get a break in the morning papers. What do you use? A crystal ball?”

“No, not quite. Would you like to see my apparatus?”

“Sure. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

He ushered them into an adjoining room, and waved his hand. “There it is, boys.” The mass of equipment that met their eyes vaguely resembled a medico’s office X-ray gear. Beyond the obvious fact that it used electrical power, and that some of the dials were calibrated in familiar terms, a casual inspection gave no clue to its actual use.

“What’s the principle, doc?”

Pinero pursed his lips and considered. “No doubt you are all familiar with the truism that life is electrical in nature. Well, that truism isn’t worth a damn, but it will help to give you an idea of the principle. You have also been told that time is a fourth dimension. Maybe you believe it, perhaps not. It has been said so many times that it has ceased to have any meaning. It is simply a cliché that windbags use to impress fools. But I want you to try to visualize it now, and try to feel it emotionally.”

He stepped up to one of the reporters. “Suppose we take you as an example. Your name is Rogers, is it not? Very well, Rogers, you are a space-time event having duration four ways. You are not quite six feet tall, you are about twenty inches wide and perhaps ten inches thick. In time, there stretches behind you more of this space-time event, reaching to, perhaps, 1905, of which we see a cross section here at right angles to the time axis, and as thick as the present. At the far end is a baby, smelling of sour milk and drooling its breakfast on its bib. At the other end lies, perhaps, an old man some place in the 1980s. Imagine this space-time event, which we call Rogers, as a long pink worm, continuous through the years. It stretches past us here in 1939, and the cross section we see appears as a single, discrete body. But that is illusion. There is physical continuity to this pink worm, enduring through the years. As a matter of fact, there is physical continuity in this concept to the entire race, for these pink worms branch off from other pink worms. In this fashion the race is like a vine whose branches intertwine and send out shoots. Only by taking a cross section of the vine would we fall into the error of believing that the shootlets were discrete individuals.”

He paused and looked around at their faces. One of them, a dour, hard-bitten chap, put in a word.

“That’s all very pretty, Pinero, if true, but where does that get you?”

Pinero favored him with an unresentful smile. “Patience, my friend. I asked you to think of life as electrical. Now think of our long, pink worm as a conductor of electricity. You have heard, perhaps, of the fact that electrical engineers can, by certain measurements, predict the exact location of a break in a transatlantic cable without ever leaving the shore. I do the same with our pink worms. By applying my instruments to the cross section here in this room I can tell where the break occurs; that is to say, where death takes place. Or, if you like, I can reverse the connections and tell you the date of your birth. But that is uninteresting; you already know it.”

The dour individual sneered. “I’ve caught you, doc. If what you say about the race being like a vine of pink worms is true, you can’t tell birthdays, because the connection with the race is continuous at birth. Your electrical conductor reaches on back through the mother into a man’s remotest ancestors.”

Pinero beamed. “True, and clever, my friend. But you have pushed the analogy too far. It is not done in the precise manner in which one measures the length of an electrical conductor. In some ways it is more like measuring the length of a long corridor by bouncing an echo off the far end. At birth there is a sort of twist in the corridor, and, by proper calibration, I can detect the echo from that twist.”

“Let’s see you prove it!”

“Certainly, my dear friend. Will you be a subject?”

One of the others spoke up. “He’s called your bluff, Luke. Put up or shut up.”

“I’m game. What do I do?”

“First write the date of your birth on a sheet of paper, and hand it to one of your colleagues.”

Luke complied. “Now what?”

“Remove your outer clothing and step upon these scales. Now tell me, were you ever very much thinner, or very much fatter, than you are now? No? What did you weigh at birth? Ten pounds? A fine bouncing baby boy. They don’t come so big anymore.”

“What is all this flubdubbery?”

“I am trying to approximate the average cross section of our long pink conductor, my dear Luke. Now will you seat yourself here? Then place this electrode in your mouth. No, it will not hurt you; the voltage is quite low, less than one microvolt, but I must have a good connection.” The doctor left him and went behind his apparatus, where he lowered a hood over his head before touching his controls. Some of the exposed dials came to life and a low humming came from the machine. It stopped and the doctor popped out of his little hideaway.

“I get sometime in February, 1902. Who has the piece of paper with the date?”

It was produced and unfolded. The custodian read, “February 22, 1902.”

The stillness that followed was broken by a voice from the edge of the little group. “Doc, can I have another drink?”

The tension relaxed, and several spoke at once: “Try it on me, doc.” “Me first, doc; I’m an orphan and really want to know.” “How about it, doc? Give us all a little loose play.”

He smilingly complied, ducking in and out of the hood like a gopher from its hole. When they all had twin slips of paper to prove the doctor’s skill, Luke broke a long silence.

“How about showing how you predict death, Pinero?”

No one answered. Several of them nudged Luke forward. “Go ahead, smart guy. You asked for it.” He allowed himself to be seated in the chair. Pinero changed some of the switches, then entered the hood. When the humming ceased he came out, rubbing his hands briskly together.

“Well, that’s all there is to see, boys. Got enough for a story?”

“Hey, what about the prediction? When does Luke get his ‘thirty?”

Luke faced him. “Yes, how about it?”

Pinero looked pained. “Gentlemen, I am surprised at you. I give that information for a fee. Besides, it is a professional confidence. I never tell anyone but the client who consults me.”

“I don’t mind. Go ahead and tell them.”

“I am very sorry. I really must refuse. I only agreed to show you how; not to give the results.”

Luke ground the butt of his cigarette into the floor. “It’s a hoax, boys. He probably looked up the age of every reporter in town just to be ready to pull this. It won’t wash, Pinero.”

Pinero gazed at him sadly. “Are you married, my friend?”

“No.”

“Do you have anyone dependent on you? Any close relatives?”

“No. Why? Do you want to adopt me?”

Pinero shook his head. “I am very sorry for you, my dear Luke. You will die before tomorrow.”

DEATH PUNCHES TIME CLOCK 

 . . . within twenty minutes of Pinero’s strange prediction, Timons was struck by a falling sign while walking down Broadway toward the offices of the Daily Herald where he was employed.

Dr. Pinero declined to comment but confirmed the story that he had predicted Timons’ death by means of his so-called chronovitameter. Chief of Police Roy . . . 

Legal Notice
To whom it may concern, greetings; I, John Cabot Winthrop III, of the firm of Winthrop, Winthrop, Ditmars and Winthrop, Attorneys-at-law, do affirm that Hugo Pinero of this city did hand to me ten thousand dollars in lawful money of the United States, and did instruct me to place it in escrow with a chartered bank of my selection with escrow instructions as follows: 
The entire bond shall be forfeit, and shall forthwith be paid to the first client of Hugo Pinero and/or Sands of Time, Inc., who shall exceed his life tenure as predicted by Hugo Pinero by one per centum, or the estate of the first client who shall fail of such predicted tenure in a like amount, whichever occurs first in point of time.
Subscribed and sworn,
John Cabot Winthrop III.

Subscribed and sworn to before me
this 2nd day of April, 1939.
Albert M. Swanson
Notary Public in and for this
county and State. My commission expires
June 17, 1939.

* * *

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Radio Audience, let’s go to press! Flash! Hugo Pinero, the Miracle Man from Nowhere, has made his thousandth death prediction without anyone claiming the reward he offered to the first person who catches him failing to call the turn. With thirteen of his clients already dead, it is mathematically certain that he has a private line to the main office of the Old Man with the Scythe. That is one piece of news I don’t want to know about before it happens. Your coast-to-coast correspondent will not be a client of Prophet Pinero—”* * *

The judge’s watery baritone cut through the stale air of the courtroom. “Please, Mr. Weems, let us return to our subject. This court granted your prayer for a temporary restraining order, and now you ask that it be made permanent. In rebuttal, Dr. Pinero claims that you have presented no cause and asks that the injunction be lifted, and that I order your client to cease from attempts to interfere with what Pinero describes as a simple, lawful business. As you are not addressing a jury, please omit the rhetoric and tell me in plain language why I should not grant his prayer.”

Mr. Weems jerked his chin nervously, making his flabby gray dewlap drag across his high stiff collar, and resumed:

“May it please the honorable court, I represent the public—”

“Just a moment. I thought you were appearing for Amalgamated Life Insurance.”

“I am, your honor, in a formal sense. In a wider sense I represent several other of the major assurance, fiduciary and financial institutions, their stockholders and policy holders, who constitute a majority of the citizenry. In addition we feel that we protect the interests of the entire population, unorganized, inarticulate and otherwise unprotected.”

“I thought that I represented the public,” observed the judge dryly. “I am afraid I must regard you as appearing for your client of record. But continue. What is your thesis?”

The elderly barrister attempted to swallow his Adam’s apple, then began again: “Your honor, we contend that there are two separate reasons why this injunction should be made permanent, and, further, that each reason is sufficient alone.

“In the first place, this person is engaged in the practice of soothsaying, an occupation proscribed both in common law and in statute. He is a common fortuneteller, a vagabond charlatan who preys on the gullibility of the public. He is cleverer than the ordinary gypsy palm reader, astrologer, or table tipper, and to the same extent more dangerous. He makes false claims of modern scientific methods to give a spurious dignity to the thaumaturgy. We have here in court leading representatives of the Academy of Science to give expert witness as to the absurdity of his claims.

“In the second place, even if this person’s claims were true—granting for the sake of argument such an absurdity—” Mr. Weems permitted himself a thin-lipped smile—”we contend that his activities are contrary to the public interest in general, and unlawfully injurious to the interests of my client in particular. We are prepared to produce numerous exhibits with the legal custodians to prove that this person did publish, or cause to have published, utterances urging the public to dispense with the priceless boon of life insurance to the great detriment of their welfare and to the financial damage of my client.”

Pinero arose in his place. “Your honor, may I say a few words?”

“What is it?”

“I believe I can simplify the situation if permitted to make a brief analysis.”

“Your honor,” put in Weems, “this is most irregular.”

“Patience, Mr. Weems. Your interests will be protected. It seems to me that we need more light and less noise in this matter. If Dr. Pinero can shorten the proceedings by speaking at this time, I am inclined to let him. Proceed, Dr. Pinero.”

“Thank you, your honor. Taking the last of Mr. Weems’ points first. I am prepared to stipulate that I published the utterances he speaks of—”

“One moment, doctor. You have chosen to act as your own attorney. Are you sure you are competent to protect your own interests?”

“I am prepared to chance it, your honor. Our friends here can easily prove what I stipulate.”

“Very well. You may proceed.”

“I will stipulate that many persons have canceled life-insurance policies as a result thereof, but I challenge them to show that anyone so doing has suffered any loss or damage therefrom. It is true that the Amalgamated has lost business through my activities, but that is the natural result of my discovery, which has made their policies as obsolete as the bow and arrow. If an injunction is granted on that ground, I shall set up a coal-oil-lamp factory, and then ask for an injunction against the Edison and General Electric companies to forbid them to manufacture incandescent bulbs.

“I will stipulate that I am engaged in the business of making predictions of death, but I deny that I am practicing magic, black, white or rainbow-colored. If to make predictions by methods of scientific accuracy is illegal, then the actuaries of the Amalgamated have been guilty for years, in that they predict the exact percentage that will die each year in any given large group. I predict death retail; the Amalgamated predicts it wholesale. If their actions are legal, how can mine be illegal?

“I admit that it makes a difference whether I can do what I claim, or not; and I will stipulate that the so-called expert witnesses from the Academy of Science will testify that I cannot. But they know nothing of my method and cannot give truly expert testimony on it—”

“Just a moment, doctor. Mr. Weems, is it true that your expert witnesses are not conversant with Dr. Pinero’s theory and methods?”

Mr. Weems looked worried. He drummed on the table top, then answered. “Will the court grant me a few moments’ indulgence?”

“Certainly.”

Mr. Weems held a hurried whispered consultation with his cohorts, then faced the bench. “We have a procedure to suggest, your honor. If Dr. Pinero will take the stand and explain the theory and practice of his alleged method, then these distinguished scientists will be able to advise the court as to the validity of his claims.”

The judge looked inquiringly at Pinero, who responded: “I will not willingly agree to that. Whether my process is true or false, it would be dangerous to let it fall into the hands of fools and quacks”—he waved his hand at the group of professors seated in the front row, paused and smiled maliciously—”as these gentlemen know quite well. Furthermore, it is not necessary to know the process in order to prove that it will work. Is it necessary to understand the complex miracle of biological reproduction in order to observe that a hen lays eggs? Is it necessary for me to re-educate this entire body of self-appointed custodians of wisdom—cure them of their ingrown superstitions—in order to prove that my predictions are correct?

“There are but two ways of forming an opinion in science. One is the scientific method; the other, the scholastic. One can judge from experiment, or one can blindly accept authority. To the scientific mind, experimental proof is all-important, and theory is merely a convenience in description, to be junked when it no longer fits. To the academic mind, authority is everything, and facts are junked when they do not fit theory laid down by authority.

“It is this point of view—academic minds clinging like oysters to disproved theories—that has blocked every advance of knowledge in history. I am prepared to prove my method by experiment, and, like Galileo in another court, I insist, ‘It still moves!’

“Once before I offered such proof to this same body of self-styled experts, and they rejected it. I renew my offer; let me measure the life length of the members of the Academy of Science. Let them appoint a committee to judge the results. I will seal my findings in two sets of envelopes; on the outside of each envelope in one set will appear the name of a member; on the inside, the date of his death. In the other envelopes I will place names; on the outside I will place dates. Let the committee place the envelopes in a vault, then meet from time to time to open the appropriate envelopes. In such a large body of men some deaths may be expected, if Amalgamated actuaries can be trusted, every week or two. In such a fashion they will accumulate data very rapidly to prove that Pinero is a liar, or no.”

He stopped, and thrust out his chest until it almost caught up with his little round belly. He glared at the sweating savants. “Well?”

The judge raised his eyebrows, and caught Mr. Weems’ eye. “Do you accept?”

“Your honor, I think the proposal highly improper—”

The judge cut him short. “I warn you that I shall rule against you if you do not accept, or propose an equally reasonable method of arriving at the truth.”

Weems opened his mouth, changed his mind, looked up and down the faces of the learned witnesses, and faced the bench. “We accept, your honor.”

“Very well. Arrange the details between you. The temporary injunction is lifted, and Dr. Pinero must not be molested in the pursuit of his business. Decision on the petition for permanent injunction is reserved without prejudice pending the accumulation of evidence. Before we leave this matter I wish to comment on the theory implied by you, Mr. Weems, when you claimed damage to your client. There has grown up in the minds of certain groups in this country the notion that because a man or corporation has made a profit out of the public for a number of years, the government and the courts are charged with the duty of guaranteeing such profit in the future, even in the face of changing circumstances and contrary to public interest. This strange doctrine is not supported by statute nor common law. Neither individuals nor corporations have any right to come into court and ask that the clock of history be stopped, or turned back.”* * *

Bidwell grunted in annoyance. “Weems, if you can’t think up anything better than that, Amalgamated is going to need a new chief attorney. It’s been ten weeks since you lost the injunction, and that little wart is coining money hand over fist. Meantime, every insurance firm in the country’s going broke. Hoskins, what’s our loss ratio?”

“It’s hard to say, Mr. Bidwell. It gets worse every day. We’ve paid off thirteen big policies this week; all of them taken out since Pinero started operations.”

A spare little man spoke up. “I say, Bidwell, we aren’t accepting any new applicants for United, until we have time to check and be sure that they have not consulted Pinero. Can’t we afford to wait until the scientists show him up?”

Bidwell snorted. “You blasted optimist! They won’t show him up. Aldrich, can’t you face a fact? The fat little pest has something; how, I don’t know. This is a fight to the finish. If we wait, we’re licked.” He threw his cigar into a cuspidor, and bit savagely into a fresh one. “Clear out of here, all of you! I’ll handle this my way. You, too, Aldrich. United may wait, but Amalgamated won’t.”

Weems cleared his throat apprehensively. “Mr. Bidwell, I trust you will consult me before embarking on any major change in policy?”

Bidwell grunted. They filed out. When they were all gone and the door closed, Bidwell snapped the switch of the interoffice announcer. “O.K.; send him in.”

The outer door opened. A slight, dapper figure stood for a moment at the threshold. His small, dark eyes glanced quickly about the room before he entered, then he moved up to Bidwell with a quick, soft tread. He spoke to Bidwell in a flat, emotionless voice. His face remained impassive except for the live, animal eyes. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the proposition?”

“Sit down, and we’ll talk.”* * *

Pinero met the young couple at the door of his inner office.

“Come in, my dears, come in. Sit down. Make yourselves at home. Now tell me, what do you want of Pinero? Surely such young people are not anxious about the final roll call?”

The boy’s pleasant young face showed slight confusion. “Well, you see, Dr. Pinero, I’m Ed Hartley and this is my wife, Betty. We’re going to have . . . that is, Betty is expecting a baby and, well—”

Pinero smiled benignly. “I understand. You want to know how long you will live in order to make the best possible provision for the youngster. Quite wise. Do you both want readings, or just yourself?”

The girl answered, “Both of us, we think.”

Pinero beamed at her. “Quite so. I agree. Your reading presents certain technical difficulties at this time, but I can give you some information now. Now come into my laboratory, my dears, and we’ll commence.”

He rang for their case histories, then showed them into his workshop. “Mrs. Hartley first, please. If you will go behind that screen and remove your shoes and your outer clothing, please.”

He turned away and made some minor adjustments of his apparatus. Ed nodded to his wife, who slipped behind the screen and reappeared almost at once, dressed in a slip. Pinero glanced up.

“This way, my dear. First we must weigh you. There. Now take your place on the stand. This electrode in your mouth. No, Ed, you mustn’t touch her while she is in the circuit. It won’t take a minute. Remain quiet.”

He dove under the machine’s hood and the dials sprang into life. Very shortly he came out, with a perturbed look on his face. “Ed, did you touch her?”

“No, doctor.” Pinero ducked back again and remained a little longer. When he came out this time, he told the girl to get down and dress. He turned to her husband.

“Ed, make yourself ready.”

“What’s Betty’s reading, doctor?”

“There is a little difficulty. I want to test you first.”

When he came out from taking the youth’s reading, his face was more troubled than ever. Ed inquired as to his trouble. Pinero shrugged his shoulders and brought a smile to his lips.

“Nothing to concern you, my boy. A little mechanical misadjustment, I think. But I shan’t be able to give you two your readings today. I shall need to overhaul my machine. Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Why, I think so. Say, I’m sorry about your machine. I hope it isn’t serious.”

“It isn’t, I’m sure. Will you come back into my office and visit for a bit?”

“Thank you, doctor. You are very kind.”

“But, Ed, I’ve got to meet Ellen.”

Pinero turned the full force of his personality on her. “Won’t you grant me a few moments, my dear young lady? I am old, and like the sparkle of young folks’ company. I get very little of it. Please.” He nudged them gently into his office and seated them. Then he ordered lemonade and cookies sent in, offered them cigarettes and lit a cigar.

Forty minutes later Ed listened entranced, while Betty was quite evidently acutely nervous and anxious to leave, as the doctor spun out a story concerning his adventures as a young man in Tierra del Fuego. When the doctor stopped to relight his cigar, she stood up.

“Doctor, we really must leave. Couldn’t we hear the rest tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? There will not be time tomorrow.”

“But you haven’t time today, either. Your secretary has rung five times.”

“Couldn’t you spare me just a few more minutes?”

“I really can’t today, doctor. I have an appointment. There is someone waiting for me.”

“There is no way to induce you?”

“I’m afraid not. Come, Ed.”

After they had gone, the doctor stepped to the window and stared out over the city. Presently he picked out two tiny figures as they left the office building. He watched them hurry to the corner, wait for the lights to change, then start across the street. When they were part way across, there came the scream of a siren. The two little figures hesitated, started back, stopped and turned. Then a car was upon them. As the car slammed to a stop, they showed up from beneath it, no longer two figures, but simply a limp, unorganized heap of clothing.

Presently the doctor turned away from the window. Then he picked up his phone and spoke to his secretary.

“Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. . . . No. . . . No one. . . . I don’t care; cancel them.”

Then he sat down in his chair. His cigar went out. Long after dark he held it, still unlighted.* * *

Pinero sat down at his dining table and contemplated the gourmet’s luncheon spread before him. He had ordered this meal with particular care, and had come home a little early in order to enjoy it fully.

Somewhat later he let a few drops of Fiori D’Alpini roll down his throat. The heavy, fragrant syrup warmed his mouth and reminded him of the little mountain flowers for which it was named. He sighed. It had been a good meal, an exquisite meal, and had justified the exotic liqueur.

His musing was interrupted by a disturbance at the front door. The voice of his elderly maidservant was raised in remonstrance. A heavy male voice interrupted her. The commotion moved down the hall and the dining-room door was pushed open.

Madonna mia! Non si puo’ entrare! The master is eating!”

“Never mind, Angela. I have time to see these gentlemen. You may go.”

Pinero faced the surly-faced spokesman of the intruders. “You have business with me; yes?”

“You bet we have. Decent people have had enough of your damned nonsense.”

“And so?”

The caller did not answer at once. A smaller, dapper individual moved out from behind him and faced Pinero.* * *

“We might as well begin.” The chairman of the committee placed a key in the lock box and opened it. “Wenzell, will you help me pick out today’s envelopes?” He was interrupted by a touch on his arm.

“Dr. Baird, you are wanted on the telephone.”

“Very well. Bring the instrument here.”

When it was fetched he placed the receiver to his ear. “Hello. . . . Yes; speaking. . . . What? . . . No, we have heard nothing. . . . Destroyed the machine, you say. . . . Dead! How? . . . No! No statement. None at all. . . . Call me later.”

He slammed the instrument down and pushed it from him.

“What’s up?”

“Who’s dead now?”

Baird held up one hand. “Quiet, gentlemen, please! Pinero was murdered a few moments ago at his home.”

“Murdered!”

“That isn’t all. About the same time vandals broke into his office and smashed his apparatus.”

No one spoke at first. The committee members glanced around at each other. No one seemed anxious to be the first to comment.

Finally one spoke up. “Get it out.”

“Get what out?”

“Pinero’s envelope. It’s in there, too. I’ve seen it.”

Baird located it, and slowly tore it open. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned it.

“Well? Out with it!”

“One thirteen P.M. . . . today.”

They took this in silence.

Their dynamic calm was broken by a member across the table from Baird reaching for the lock box. Baird interposed a hand.

“What do you want?”

“My prediction. It’s in there—we’re all in there.”

“Yes, yes.”

“We’re all in there.”

“Let’s have them.”

Baird placed both hands over the box. He held the eye of the man opposite him, but did not speak. He licked his lips. The corner of his mouth twitched. His hands shook. Still he did not speak. The man opposite relaxed back into his chair.

“You’re right, of course,” he said.

“Bring me that wastebasket.” Baird’s voice was low and strained, but steady.

He accepted it and dumped the litter on the rug. He placed the tin basket on the table before him. He tore half a dozen envelopes across, set a match to them, and dropped them in the basket. Then he started tearing a double handful at a time, and fed the fire steadily. The smoke made him cough, and tears ran out of his smarting eyes. Someone got up and opened a window. When Baird was through, he pushed the basket away from him, looked down and spoke.

“I’m afraid I’ve ruined this table top.”

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
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Make America Great Again.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Delilah and the Space-Rigger (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

Delilah and the Space Rigger " is a science fiction short story by American writer Robert A. Heinlein. One of his Future History storiesitoriginally appeared in Blue Book in December 1949 and was reprinted in hiscollectionThe Green Hills of Earth (and subsequently The Past Through Tomorrow).  - Wikipedia

Brief Concordance

Fair Employment Commission [mentioned in passing] Bureaucracy that protected workers against discrimination. It prohibited job applications that listed the sex of the applicant.

G. E. Kwiklok Airlock just large enough for a space-suited individual, designed to save time and air.

Delos D. Harriman Business tycoon who inspired and largely funded many space-related endeavors, including the first trip to the moon. Harriman is mentioned indirectly in most of the Future History stories, mostly in businesses and institutions bearing his name. Harriman Enterprises was the contractor that financed Space Station Oneand employed many of the workers on it.

The above information obtained from HERE.

Executive Summary

Gloria Brooks McNye, a Communications Engineer, wangles a job as a radio technician and joins the all‐male crew of construction workers building a space station. On her arrival she immediately has a confrontation with the hard‐boiled construction superintendent, who hadn’t realized she was female. He doesn’t want any women “sniffing around my boys” and orders her returned on the next shuttle…

Delilah and the Space-Rigger

SURE, we had trouble building Space Station One—but the trouble was people.

Not that building a station twenty-two thousand three hundred miles out in space is a breeze. It was an engineering feat bigger than the Panama Canal or the Pyramids—or even the Susquehanna Power Pile. But ”Tiny” Larsen built her—and a job Tiny tackles gets built.

I first saw Tiny playing guard on a semi-pro team, working his way through Oppenheimer Tech. He worked summers for me thereafter till he graduated. He stayed in construction and eventually I went to work for him.

Tiny wouldn’t touch a job unless he was satisfied with the engineering. The Station had jobs designed into it that called for six-armed monkeys instead of grown men in space suits. Tiny spotted such boners; not a ton of material went into the sky until the specs and drawings suited him.

But it was people that gave us the headaches. We had a sprinkling of married men, but the rest were wild kids, attracted by high pay and adventure. Some were busted spacemen. Some were specialists, like electricians and instrument men. About half were deep-sea divers, used to working in pressure suits. There were sandhogs and riggers and welders and shipfitters and two circus acrobats.

We fired four of them for being drunk on the job; Tiny had to break one stiff’s arm before he would stay fired. What worried us was where did they get it? Turned out a shipfitter had rigged a heatless still, using the vacuum around us. He was making vodka from potatoes swiped from the commissary. I hated to let him go, but he was too smart.

Since we were falling free in a 24-hour circular orbit, with everything weightless and floating, you’d think that shooting craps was impossible. But a radioman named Peters figured a dodge to substitute steel dice and a magnetic field. He also eliminated the element of chance, so we fired him.

We planned to ship him back in the next supply ship, the R. S. Half Moon. I was in Tiny’s office when she blasted to match our orbit. Tiny swam to the view port. “Send for Peters, Dad,” he said, “and give him the old heave ho, Who’s his relief?”

“Party named G. Brooks McNye,” I told him.

A line came snaking over from the ship. Tiny said, “I don’t believe she’s matched.” He buzzed the radio shack for theship’s motion relative to the Station. The answer didn’t please him and he told them to call the Half Moon.

Tiny waited until the TV screen showed the rocket ship’s C.O. “Good morning, Captain. Why have you placed a line on us?”

“For cargo, naturally. Get your hopheads over here. I want to blast off before we enter the shadow.” The Station spent about an hour and a quarter each day passing through Earth’s shadow; we worked two eleven-hour shifts and skipped the dark period, to avoid rigging lights and heating suits.

Tiny shook his head. “Not until you’ve matched course and

speed with us.”

“I am matched!”

Not to specification, by my instruments.”

“Have a heart, Tiny! I’m short on maneuvering fuel. If I juggle this entire ship to make a minor correction on a few lousy tons of cargo, I’ll be so late I’ll have to put down on a secondary field. I may even have to make a dead-stick landing.” In those days all ships had landing wings.

“Look, Captain,” Tiny said sharply, “the only purpose of your lift was to match orbits for those same few lousy tons. I don’t care if you land in Little America on a pogo stick. The first load here was placed with loving care in the proper orbit and I’m making every other load match. Get that covered wagon into the groove.”

“Very well, Superintendent!” Captain Shields said stiffly.

“Don’t be sore, Don,” Tiny said softly. “By the way, you’ve got a passenger for me?”

“Oh, yes, so I have!” Shields’ face broke out in a grin. “Well, keep him aboard until we unload. Maybe we can beat the shadow yet.”

“Fine, fine! After all, why should I add to your troubles?”

The skipper switched off, leaving my boss looking puzzled.

We didn’t have time to wonder at his words. Shields whipped his ship around on gyros, blasted a second or two, and put her dead in space with us pronto—and used very little fuel, despite his bellyaching. I grabbed every mail we could spare and managed to get the cargo clear before we swung into Earth’s shadow. Weightlessness is an unbelievable advantage in handling freight; we gutted the Half Moon—by hand, mind you—in fifty-four minutes.

The stuff was oxygen tanks, loaded, and aluminum mirrors to shield them, panels of outer skin—sandwich stuff of titanium alloy sheet with foamed glass filling—and cases of jato units to spin the living quarters. Once it was all out and snapped to our cargo line I sent the men back by the same line—I won’t let a man work outside without a line no matter how space happy he figures he is. Then I told Shields to send over the passenger and cast off.

This little guy came out the ship’s air lock, and hooked on to the ship’s line. Handling himself like he was used to space, he set his feet and dived, straight along the stretched line, his snap hook running free. I hurried back and motioned him to follow me. Tiny, the new man, and I reached the air locks together.

Besides the usual cargo lock we had three G. E. Kwikloks.

A Kwiklok is an Iron Maiden without spikes; it fits a man in a suit, leaving just a few pints of air to scavenge, and cycles automatically. A big time saver in changing shifts. I passed through the middlesized one; Tiny, of course, used the big one. Without hesitation the new man pulled himself into the small one.

We went into Tiny’s office. Tiny strapped down, and pushed his helmet back. “Well, McNye,” he said. “Glad to have you with us.”

The new radio tech opened his helmet. I heard a low, pleasant voice answer, “Thank you.”

I stared and didn’t say anything. From where I was I could see that the radio tech was wearing a hair ribbon.

I thought Tiny would explode. He didn’t need to see the hair ribbon; with the helmet up it was clear that the new “man” was as female as Venus de Milo. Tiny sputtered, then he was unstrapped and diving for the view port. “Dad!” he yelled. “Get the radio shack. Stop that ship!”

But the Half Moon was already a ball of fire in the distance, Tiny looked dazed. “Dad,” he said, “who else knows about this?”

“Nobody, so far as I know.”

He thought a bit. “We’ve got to keep her out of sight. That’s it—we keep her locked up and out of sight until the next ship matches in.” He didn’t look at her.

“What in the world are you talking about?” McNye’s voice was higher and no longer pleasant.

Tiny glared. “You, that’s what. What are you—a stowaway?’ “Don’t be silly! I’m G. B. McNye, electronics engineer.

Don’t you have my papers?”

Tiny turned to me. “Dad, this is your fault. How in Chr—pardon me, Miss. How did you let them send you a woman? Didn’t you even read the advance report on her?”

“Me?” I said. “Now see here, you big squarehead! Those forms don’t show sex; the Fair Employment Commission won’t allow it except where it’s pertinent to the job.”

“You’re telling me it’s not pertinent to the job here?”

Not by job classification it ain’t. There’s lots of female radio and radar men, back Earthside.”

“This isn’t Earthside.” He had something. He was thinking of those two-legged wolves swarming over the job outside. And G. B. McNye was pretty. Maybe eight months of no women at all affected my judgment, but she would pass.

“I’ve even heard of female rocket pilots,” I added, for spite. “I don’t care if you’ve heard of female archangels; I’ll have no women here!”

“Just a minute!” If I was riled, she was plain sore. “You’re the construction superintendent, are you not?”

“Yes,” Tiny admitted.

”Very well, then, how do you know what sex I am?”

“Are you trying to deny that you are a woman?”

“Hardly! I’m proud of it. But officially you don’t know what sex G. Brooks McNye is. That’s why I use ‘G’ instead of Gloria. I don’t ask favors.”

Tiny grunted. “You won’t get any. I don’t know how you sneaked in, but get this, McNye, or Gloria, or whatever—you’re fired. You go back on the next ship. Meanwhile we’ll try to keep the men from knowing we’ve got a woman aboard.”

I could see her count ten. “May I speak,” she said finally, “or does your Captain Bligh act extend to that, too?”

“Say your say.”

“I didn’t sneak in. I am on the permanent staff of the Station, Chief Communications Engineer. I took this vacancy myself to get to know the equipment while it was being installed. I’ll live here eventually; I see no reason not to start now.”

Tiny waved it away. “There’ll be men and women both here—some day. Even kids. Right now it’s stag and it’ll stay that way.”

“We’ll see. Anyhow, you can’t fire me; radio personnel don’t work for you.” She had a point; communicators and some other specialists were lent to the contractors, Five Companies, Incorporated, by Harriman Enterprises.

Tiny snorted. “Maybe I can’t fire you; I can send you home. ‘Requisitioned personnel must be satisfactory to the contractor.’—meaning me. Paragraph Seven, clause M; I wrote that clause myself.”

“Then you know that if requisitioned personnel are refused without cause the contractor bears the replacement cost.”

“I’ll risk paying your fare home, but I won’t have you here.”

“You are most unreasonable!”

“Perhaps, but I’ll decide what’s good for the job. I’d rather have a dope peddler than have a woman sniffing around my boys!”

She gasped. Tiny knew he had said too much; he added, “Sorry, Miss. But that’s it. You’ll stay under cover until I can get rid of you.”

Before she could speak I cut in. “Tiny—look behind you!”

Staring in the port was one of the riggers, his eyes bugged out. Three or four more floated up and joined him.

Then Tiny zoomed up to the port and they scattered like minnows. He scared them almost out of their suits; I thought he was going to shove his fists through the quartz.

He came back looking whipped. “Miss,” he said, pointing, “wait in my room.” When she was gone he added, “Dad, what’ll we do?”

I said, “I thought you had made up your mind, Tiny.”

“I have,” he answered peevishly. “Ask the Chief Inspector to come in, will you?”

That showed how far gone he was. The inspection gang belonged to Harriman Enterprises, not to us, and Tiny rated them mere nuisances. Besides, Tiny was an Oppenheimer graduate; Dalrymple was from M.LT.

He came in, brash and cheerful. “Good morning, Superintendent. Morning, Mr. Witherspoon. What can I do for you?”

Glumly, Tiny told the story. Dalrymple looked smug. “She’s right, old man. You can send her back and even specify a male relief. But I can hardly endorse ‘for proper cause’ now, can I?”

“Damnation. Dalrymple, we can’t have a woman around here!”

“A moot point. Not covered by contract, y’know.”

“If your office hadn’t sent us a crooked gambler as her predecessor I wouldn’t be in this jam!”

“There, there! Remember the old blood pressure. Suppose we leave the endorsement open and arbitrate the cost. That’s fair, eh?”

“I suppose so. Thanks.”

“Not at all. But consider this: when you rushed Peters off before interviewing the newcomer, you cut yourself down to one operator. Hammond can’t stand watch twenty-four hours a day.”

“He can sleep in the shack. The alarm will wake him.”

“I can’t accept that. The home office and ships’ frequencies must be guarded at all times. Harriman Enterprises has supplied a qualified operator; I am afraid you must use her for the time being.”

Tiny will always cooperate with the inevitable; he said quietly, “Dad, she’ll take first shift. Better put the married men on that shift.”

Then he called her in. “Go to the radio shack and start makee-learnee, so that Hammond can go off watch soon. Mind what he tells you. He’s a good man.”

“I know,” she said briskly. “I trained him.”

Tiny bit his lip. The C.I. said, ”The Superintendent doesn’t bother with trivia—I’m Robert Dalrymple, Chief Inspector. He probably didn’t introduce his assistant either—Mr. Witherspoon.”

“Call me Dad,” I said.

She smiled and said, “Howdy, Dad.” I felt warm clear through. She went on to Dalrymple, “Odd that we haven’t met before.”

Tiny butted in. “McNye, you’ll sleep in my room—”

She raised her eyebrows; he went on angrily, “Oh, I’ll get my stuff out—at once. And get this: keep the door locked, off shift.”

“You’re darn tootin’ I will!” Tiny blushed.

I was too busy to see much of Miss Gloria. There was cargo to stow, the new tanks to install and shield. That left the most worrisome task of all: putting spin on the living quarters. Even the optimists didn’t expect much interplanetary traffic for some years; nevertheless Harriman Enterprises wanted to get some activities moved in and paying rent against their enormous investment.

I.T.&T. had leased space for a microwave relay station several million a year from television alone. The Weather Bureau was itching to set up its hemispheric integrating station; Palomar Observatory had a concession (Harriman Enterprises donated that space); the Security Council had some hush-hush project; Fermi Physical Labs and Kettering Institute each had space-a dozen tenants wanted to move in now, or sooner, even if we never completed accommodations for tourists and travelers.

There were time bonuses in it for Five Companies, Incorporated—and their help. So we were in a hurry to get spin on the quarters.

People who have never been out have trouble getting through their heads—at least I had—that there is no feeling of weight, no up and down, in a free orbit in space. There’s Earth, round and beautiful, only twenty-odd thousand miles away, close enough to brush your sleeve. You know it’s pulling you towards it. Yet you feel no weight, absolutely none. You float.

Floating is fine for some types of work, but when it’s time to eat, or play cards, or bathe, it’s good to feel weight on your feet. Your dinner stays quiet and you feel more natural.

You’ve seen pictures of the Station—a huge cylinder, like a bass drum, with ships’ nose pockets dimpling its sides. Imagine a snare drum, spinning around inside the bass drum; that’s the living quarters, with centrifugal force pinch-hitting for gravity. We could have spun the whole Station but you can’t berth a ship against a whirling dervish.

So we built a spinning part for creature comfort and an outer, stationary part for docking, tanks, storerooms, and the like. You pass from one to the other at the hub. When Miss Gloria joined us the inner part was closed in and pressurized, but the rest was a skeleton of girders.

Mighty pretty though, a great network of shiny struts and ties against black sky and stars-titanium alloy 1403, light, strong, and non-corrodable. The Station is flimsy compared with a ship, since it doesn’t have to take blastoff stresses. That meant we didn’t dare put on spin by violent means-which is where jato units come in.

“Jato”—Jet Assisted Take-Off—rocket units invented to give airplanes a boost. Now we use them wherever a controlled push is needed, say to get a truck out of the mud on a dam job. We mounted four thousand of them around the frame of the living quarters, each one placed just so. They were wired up and ready to fire when Tiny came to me looking worried. “Dad,” he said, “Let’s drop everything and finish compartment D-113.”

“Okay,” I said. D-113 was in the non-spin part.

“Rig an air lock and stock it with two weeks supplies.”

“That’ll change your mass distribution for spin,” I suggested.

“I’ll refigure it next dark period. Then we’ll shift jatos.”

When Dalrymple heard about it he came charging around. It meant a delay in making rental space available. “What’s the idea?”

Tiny stared at him. They had been cooler than ordinary lately; Dalrymple had been finding excuses to seek out Miss Gloria. He had to pass through Tiny’s office to reach her temporary room, and Tiny had finally told him to get out and stay out. “The idea,” Tiny said slowly, “is to have a pup tent in case the house burns.”

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose we fire up the jatos and the structure cracks? Want to hang around in a space suit until a ship happens by?”

“That’s silly. The stresses have been calculated.”

“That’s what the man said when the bridge fell. We’ll do it my way.”

Dalrymple stormed off.

Tiny’s efforts to keep Gloria fenced up were sort of pitiful. In. the first place, the radio tech’s biggest job was repairing suit

walkie-talkies, done on watch. A rash of such troubles broke out—on her shift. I made some shift transfers and docked a few for costs, too; it’s not proper maintenance when a man deliberately busts his aerial.

There were other symptoms. It became stylish to shave. Men started wearing shirts around quarters and bathing increased to where I thought I would have to rig another water still.

Came the shift when D-113 was ready and the jatos readjusted. I don’t mind saying I was nervous. All hands were ordered out of the quarters and into suits. They perched around the girders and waited.

Men in space suits all look alike; we used numbers and colored armbands. Supervisors had two antennas, one for a gang frequency, one for the supervisors’ circuit. With Tiny and me the second antenna hooked back through the radio shack and to all the gang frequencies-a broadcast.

The supervisors had reported their men clear of the fireworks and 1 was about to give Tiny the word, when this figure came climbing through the girders, inside the danger zone. No safety line. No armband. One antenna.

Miss Gloria, of course. Tiny hauled her out of the blast zone, and anchored her with his own safety line. I heard his voice, harsh in my helmet: “Who do you think you are? A sidewalk superintendent?”

And her voice: “What do you expect me to do? Go park on a star?”

“I told you to stay away from the job. If you can’t obey orders, I’ll lock you up.”

I reached him, switched off my radio and touched helmets. “Boss! Boss!” I said. “You’re broadcasting!”

“Oh—” he says, switches off, and touches helmets with her. We could still hear her; she didn’t switch off. “Why, you big baboon, I came outside because you sent a search party to clear everybody out,” and, “How would I know about a safety line rule? You’ve kept me penned up.” And finally. “We’ll see!”

I dragged him away and he told the boss electrician to go ahead. Then we forgot the row for we were looking at the prettiest fireworks ever seen, a giant St. Catherine’s wheel, rockets blasting all over it. Utterly soundless, out there in space—but beautiful beyond compare.

The blasts died away and there was the living quarters, spinning true as a flywheel—Tiny and I both let out sighs of relief. We all went back inside then to see what weight tasted like.

It tasted funny. I went through the shaft and started down the ladders, feeling myself gain weight as I neared the rim. I felt seasick, like the first time I experienced no weight. I could hardly walk and my calves cramped.

We inspected throughout, then went to the office and sat down. It felt good, just right for comfort, one-third gravity at the rim. Tiny rubbed his chair arms and grinned, “Beats being penned up in D-l13.”

“Speaking of being penned up,” Miss Gloria said, walking

in, “may I have a word with you, Mr. Larsen?”

“Uh? Why, certainly. Matter of fact, I wanted to see you. I owe you an apology, Miss McNye. I was—”

“Forget it,” she cut in. “You were on edge. But I want to know this: how long are you going to keep up this nonsense of trying to chaperone me?”

He studied her. “Not long. Just till your relief arrives.” “So? Who is the shop steward around here?”

“A shipfitter named McAndrews. But you can’t use him. You’re a staff member.”

“Not in the job I’m filling. I am going to talk to him. You’re discriminating against me, and in my off time at that.”

“Perhaps, but you will find I have the authority. Legally I’m a ship’s captain, while on this job. A captain in space has wide discriminatory powers.”

“Then you should use them with discrimination!”

He grinned. “Isn’t that what you just said I was doing?”

We didn’t hear from the shop steward, but Miss Gloria started doing as she pleased. She showed up at the movies, next off shift, with Dalrymple. Tiny left in the middle-good show, too; Lysistrata Goes to Town, relayed up from New York.

As she was coming back alone he stopped her, having seen to it that I was present. “Umm-Miss McNye . . .”

“Yes?”

“I think you should know, uh, well . . . Chief Inspector

Dalrymple is a married man.”

“Are you suggesting that my conduct has been improper?”

“No but—”

“Then mind your own business!” Before he could answer she added, “It might interest you that he told me about your four children.”

Tiny sputtered. “Why . . . why, I’m not even married!”

“So? That makes it worse, doesn’t it?” She swept out.

Tiny quit trying to keep her in her room, but told her to notify him whenever she left it. It kept him busy riding herd on her. I refrained from suggesting that he get Dalrymple to spell him.

But I was surprised when he told me to put through the order

dismissing her. I had been pretty sure he was going to drop it.

“What’s the charge?” I asked. “Insubordination!”

I kept mum. He said, “Well, she won’t take orders.”

“She does her work okay. You give her orders you wouldn’t give to one of the men—and that a man wouldn’t take.”

”You disagree with my orders?”

“That’s not the point. You can’t prove the charge, Tiny.”

“Well, charge her with being female! I can prove that.”

I didn’t say anything. “Dad,” he added wheedlingly, “you know how to write it. ‘No personal animus against Miss McNye, but it is felt that as a matter of policy, and so forth and so on.'”

I wrote it and gave it to Hammond privately. Radio techs are sworn to secrecy but it didn’t surprise me when I was stopped by O’Connor, one of our best metalsmiths. “Look, Dad, is it true that the Old Manis getting rid of Brooksie?”

“Brooksie?”

“Brooksie McNye—says to call her Brooks. Is it true?”

I admitted it, then went on, wondering if I should have lied.

It takes four hours, about, for a ship to lift from Earth. The shift before the Pole Star was due, with Miss Gloria’s relief, thee timekeeper brought me two separation slips. Two men were nothing; we averaged more each ship. An hour later he reached me by supervisors’ circuit, and asked me to come to the time office. I was out on the rim, inspecting a weld job; I said no. “Please, Mr. Witherspoon,” he begged, “you’ve got to.” When one of the boys doesn’t call me ‘Dad,’ it means something. I went.

There was a queue like mail call outside his door; I went in and he shut the door on them. He handed me a double handful of separation slips. “What in the great depths of night is this?” I asked.

”There’s dozens more I ain’t had time to write up yet.”

None of the slips had any reason given-just “own choice.”

“Look, Jimmie—what goes on here?”

“Can’t you dope it out, Dad? Shucks, I’m turning in one, too.”

I told him my guess and he admitted it. So I took the slips, called Tiny and told him for the love of Heaven to come to his office.

Tiny chewed his lip considerable. ”But, Dad, they can’t strike. It’s a non-strike contract with bonds from every union concerned.”

“It’s no strike, Tiny. You can’t stop a man from quitting.”

”They’ll pay their own fares back, so help me!”

“Guess again. Most of ’em have worked long enough for the free ride.”

“We’ll have to hire others quick, or we’ll miss our date.”

“Worse than that, Tiny—we won’t finish. By next dark period you won’t even have a maintenance crew.”

“I’ve never had a gang of men quit me. I’ll talk to them.”

“No good, Tiny. You’re up against something too strong for you.”

You’re against me, Dad?”

“I’m never against you, Tiny.”

He said, “Dad, you think I’m pig-headed, but I’m right. You can’t have one woman among several hundred men. It drives ’em nutty.”

I didn’t say it affected him the same way; I said, “Is that bad?”

“Of course. I can’t let the job be ruined to humor one woman.”

“Tiny, have you looked at the progress charts lately?” “I’ve hardly had time to—what about them?”

I knew why he hadn’t had time. “You’ll have trouble proving Miss Gloria interfered with the job. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“We are?”

While he was studying the charts I put an arm around his shoulder. “Look, son,” I said, “sex has been around our planet a long time. Earthside, they never get away from it, yet some pretty big jobs get built anyhow. Maybe we’ll just have to learn to live with it here, too. Matter of fact, you had the answer a minute ago.”

“I did? I sure didn’t know it.”

“You said, ‘You can’t have one woman among several hundred men.’ Get me?”

“Huh? No, I don’t. Wait a minute! Maybe I do.”

“Ever tried jiu jitsu? Sometimes you win by relaxing.” “Yes. Yes!”

“When you can’t beat ’em, you jine ’em.”

He buzzed the radio shack. “Have Hammond relieve you, McNye, and come to my office.”

He did it handsomely, stood up and made a speech-he’d been wrong, taken him a long time to see it, hoped there were no hard feelings, etc. He was instructing the home office to see how many jobs could be filled at once with female help. “Don’t forget married couples,” I put in mildly, “and better ask for some older women, too.”

“I’ll do that,” Tiny agreed. “Have I missed anything, Dad?”

“Guess not. We’ll have to rig quarters, but there’s time.” “Okay. I’m telling them to hold the Pole Star, Gloria, so they can send us a few this trip.”

“That’s fine!” She looked really happy.

He chewed his lip. “I’ve a feeling I’ve missed something.

Hmm—I’ve got it. Dad, tell them to send up a chaplain for the Station, as soon as possible. Under the new policy we may need one anytime.” I thought so, too.

Other available copies

Other copies of this work can be found on-line. They have various formats, and various issues of one type or the other.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
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Take control over your life by using “the rule of eight”.

Today, in fact ever since the 1970’s, it has become easy for Americans to fall into debt. Here we are going to discuss how to gain control of your life financially. We are going to talk about the implementation of the “rule of eight”.

Implementation of “the rule of eight” is the fundamental first step in gaining control of your finances. I know. I know. It’s a boring subject. But, hear me out.

The trick to keeping your money and living the lifestyle that you deserve is in spending your money properly. And, that, boys and girls means that you don’t just spend money on things you want. It means, instead, that you plan on how to spend your money.

You plan on how to spend your money.

Because having full control over your money means that you will obtain full control over your life.

Full control of your money = Full control of your life.

The “rule of eight” is a very simple rule. It just means that everything that you buy must full under the “rule of eight”.

  • There are three (x3) parts to this rule.

Part 1 – Wait eight days before you buy something.

This little rule destroys impulse buying.

Most credit card purchases are impulse buys. Most of the things that get us into trouble financially are due to impulse buys. In fact, most sales in stores and on-line revolve around “sales” that are intended to get you to perform a purchase on impulse.

In fact, the source of the biggest problems in families today is that there “isn’t enough money” to live off of. Yet, if you look at their budget, you would find that the money has disappeared into a deep deep black hole. This black-hole is impulse purchases.

Stop.

You must end the impulse buying nightmare and get off the treadmill of debt.

Info-graph of impulse buying.
By controlling the purchases you make through use of the “rule of eight”, you will be able to have a very successful family budget. As such, you can then gain control of your life and steer it towards what ever goals that you set for our and your family to attain.

In practical application, the person in the household who controls the budget (this would be the woman of the house if you are in a traditional conservative family), or the owner of a wallet (if you are in a progressive family) would have money set aside as “spending cash”. In companies this goes by the term “petty cash” but the idea is simple; a set amount of money is provided for each person to use as they need for minor sundries.

Depending on the person, this could vary from $5 to $20 /week.

The rest of the money is formally budgeted. The budget would consist of “containers” where money is allocated into different uses. Again, in a traditional household, the woman (or house-person if a same-sex household) would do the budgeting.

Woman stocking the refrigerator.
Since the “Woman’s Rights” movement of the 1970’s came about, having a woman in control of all the money has been demonized. When a man insists on working, and the wife wants to tend to the children and teach them how to grow up and learn, it is considered to be a throw-back to primitive repressive times. Feminists refer to the woman as a “Handmaids Tale”, which is really nonsense. Women, most especially mothers, are far better at budgeting and managing a household than a man is. Men and women both have their strengths and weaknesses. A traditional household leverages those strengths superbly.

Some budget items might include such things as…

  • Food for home cooked meals.
  • Eating out for the one or two meals outside.
  • House payments or rent.
  • Utilities (electricity and gas)
  • Savings
  • The various payments on outstanding debt (car, college)
  • Planned purchases
  • “Petty Cash”

In the rule of eight, you wait eight days for purchase of anything outside of “petty cash” or budgeted expenses. This is eight days, or one day more than a week.

Here is an example. 

Imagine that you have a traditional conservative household. The man works a 40 hour/week job, and the wife handles the domestic responsibilities of household and childcare. Further assume that the man makes $1000 / month.

He, as a traditional conservative, would give 100% of his salary to the wife. Then she would budget the money accordingly.

Rent - $400
Groceries - $200
Utilities - $50
Savings - $150
Pay off debt - $100
Petty Cash - $50 ($20 to the man, $20 to the wife, and $5 child allowance)
Discretionary Funds - $50

With a budget, you now have a monthly allocation of $50 to use for discretionary purposes. You can plan on what to use it on. That is how a budget works.

Having a budget, and following the “rule of eight” gives you time to determine if the purchased item has value more than a momentary emotional appeal.

You will find, that the rule of eight plays a very important role in the ability to save money, budget food, and master your own household. Instead of a home filled with clutter and junk, most people who follow the rule of eight find their house to become uncluttered, and tend to eat better. They also tend to save money.

Vintage advertisement for a refrigerator. Showing the role of the housewife in the proper raising of the children.
When you have a family budget, you have a far better degree of control on what happens to the money that you make. Some families set aside large amounts of money towards saving, while others put an emphasis on delicious home cooked meals. While others spend very little, but what they do purchase is of the very best quality. Having control over your money is a fundamental staple of a happy household.

This first part of the rule of eight, effectively eliminates spontaneous impulse purchasing. As such, it is probably the most important part of this rule.

You wait EIGHT DAYS on the purchase of anything not already budgeted for.

Part 2 – Purchase by quality value.

The next component of the Rule of Eight is the quality component. This little rule assigns value to what your purchase.

What has more value? A breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and unlimited coffee at a family diner for $4, or an $8 cup of Starbucks coffee?

You start to purchase things based on their value to you.

LIve your life well; eat good food.
I well remember a restaurant that I went to. They had a special on their dinner, and the wife and I went inside to try the food and save some money. I will never forget that meal. It was the worst meal that I had ever tasted in my life. People, life is far too short to eat sub-standard quality food.

The idea here is that you start managing the quality of the products that you use.

In general, you try to avoid low-quality items for they will always, eventually one way or the other, detract from your standard of life. And, while you might want to have everything “high quality”, it will be prohibitive to do so, as they tend to be expensive.

Think of the quality of any item you purchase on a 10-point scale: a “one” is the lowest quality/throwaway item and a “10” is the highest quality available.

  1. Free sugar at a fast food restaurant. (Free = zero value.)
  2. Disposable plates and silverware.
  3. Cheap plastic toys for children.
  4. Walmart quality appliances.
  5. Canned food at a supermarket.
  6. Frozen food.
  7. Fresh fruits, vegetables, cuts of meat.
  8. Upper level quality appliances. (The “sweet spot”.)
  9. Best quality anything.
  10. Best quality on a “name brand” item. (Super expensive.)

The Rule of Eight says that once the quality of any purchased item exceeds eight on the 10-point scale, the price rises very rapidly. It rises exponentially. However, the usefulness of the item (economists call this the “utility” of the item) barely changes at all.

For example;

You can buy a second-hand car (maybe two years old) for far less than a brand new car right off the sales lot. Yet, both of them would be able to give you the same kind of functionality in the five-year period of ownership.

Because of this relationship, items that are eight and larger on the scale are considered to be “luxury items”.

Chart of the rule of eight.
Chart of the “rule of eight”. If you plot out the prices of everything sold in the world, you would get a chart a little like this. You can characterize the value of each item by using a numerical value. Eight is the “sweet spot”. This is the area where you would get the most value for your purchase.

The “sweet spot”, or the area where you get the best quality at the most reasonable price is just under the value of eight. This is to the left of the red line.

Obviously not every purchase will be in that area. However, if you use the “rule of eight” to make quality decisions, then you will discover that heavy-use items (such as automobiles, tools, and appliances) should have values from 6 to 9. Most other items can range from 5 to 7.

The relationships between good, cheap and fast.
Good and cheap won’t be fast. Fast and good will not be cheap. Cheap and fast will not be good. These are basic truths that everyone should well understand.

And by the way, keep in mind that forays into the very cheap and the ultra expensive need to be justified by careful thought and consideration.

Part 3 – Control the quantity of items purchased.

The final component of the Rule of Eight is quantity. You need to spend the vast bulk of your money on the items that provides value.

This is an easy one: 80% of your purchases should conform to the Rule of Eight. So, in practice this means that most of your spending will not be on super-high quality brands and items.

Nor will it be on the cheapest junk you can afford.

It will be somewhere in between. If the items are going to be put through daily use, like for instance, a computer or a cell phone, then you need to get a good sturdy reliable model. If, however, the item is going to only be used a few times, then the quality of that item can be far less and you can discard it when finished.

Most of the items you purchase should reside somewhere in the middle 80% of the mainline price range. Remember, you get what you pay for.

Utility plot
When you follow the “rule of eight” you will find that almost all of your products that you purchases will fall within a 80% region. You will stop buying cheap things, and no longer waste money on expensive things. Take coffee for instance. Why go to Starbucks when you can obtain a better up of coffee for a better price?

What does all this mean?

By implementing the “rule of eight” you will start to find that you are in control of your money. Not someone else.

To implement it, most people discover that they need to make some changes in their lives. Most of the changes are fundamental. That is, the most successful families are ones that have adopted traditional ways of running a household.

  • The household sets up rules that people follow.
  • Roles are established to process the rules; a “bread-earner”, a “finance manager” , and someone in charge of “domestic affairs”.
  • Members follow the rules.
  • There will be a minor period of adjustment to the rules.

What this means, is that once you are in control of your finance, that all sorts of good things start to happen to your life. I have covered them in other posts, and you might want to read about them here…

Here we talk about the two different types of familial structures that are present in the United States and how they work…

The two family types and how they work.

If you decide to have a traditional conservative type of family, then you will start to eat better, and the meals at the house will take on an entirely new dimension…

Link

Now, the reason why there is so much confusion as to roles and rules is because society has changed. American society has changed, and no one has been monitoring that change. Here, I talk about it…

r/K selection theory

Of course, the theme behind this post is that men need guidance on how to carve their life out in the world. As such, I try to offer some support here.

Build up your life

As well as other posts along this same theme…

Things I wish I knew.
Being older
Link
Travel
Thank you.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
Link
Make America Great Again.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Really Strange China (Part 7)

Here we continue with our exploration of China through some curious and amusing videos.

Please kindly note that this post has multiple embedded videos. It is important to view them. If they fail to load, all you need to do is to reload your browser.

The Baby Trials

When I was a young boy, a number of items were placed in front of me. I was allowed to go for the item that was (supposed) to represent what my interest would be in life. There was a thimble, a dollar bill, some cloth, and a few other things. It was a Polish tradition.

I don’t remember what I went for.

My father didn’t remember either. I am sure that he had entire series of pictures regarding that event. As he was a photo-buff of the extreme kind. Never the less, it probably was something having to do with my hands, like a clothes pin or something similar.

Here we see the Chinese playing the same kind of game with the young boy. I wonder what this Chinese boy will be attracted to…?

Yeah. In case you didn’t get it, he went for the $100 yuan bill. This young buck went for the cash, oh baby!

Dog’s bike riding

In China, of course, there are all sorts of rental bikes everywhere. Many have been discarded last year when they began to compete against the local towns for revenue. Never the less, they are still very popular, and getting one is a very simple task. You just scan in the QR code with your cell phone. Cost is around $0.05 USD for an hour ride. It is automatically debited to your bank account.

Here we have a dog riding in the bike. It’s pretty typical as the dog is wearing clothes, and underwear and socks. Yup, this is China. It’s a place where the children wander all over without pants letting their gunk sway in the wind, and dogs and cats wear three-piece suits. Who’d figure?

China is very dog-friendly

Speaking of pets, China does not have the same kind of prohibitions concerning animals that you would find in the United States or most other Western nations. You can bring your dogs into restaurants and go shopping with them, and no one would bat an eyelash.

China is very dog friendly.
In China there aren’t any health regulations that will prevent you from bringing your dog inside a restaurant with you. You can bring them in. Sit them down and enjoy your meal with “mans best friend”. Don’t you just love it!

We like to think that America is full of pet lovers, as it actually is. But the government is NOT pet-friendly.

The radical progressive liberal busy-bodies have put up all kinds of prohibitions regarding pets in public. This includes everything from leash-laws to businesses being off-limits to pets. All progressive democrats in office tend to treat animals as disposable props. While conservative politicians have a mixed bag of appreciation of our furry friends.

The argument is always for the “public health”. You don’t want to risk the 0.00000001% of the population that would have a violent reaction to pet fur getting harmed. Those progressive liberals are so silly!

The job of the government is NOT to protect everyone, all the time, in every way possible. It is to provide a society where the 80% majority can live in peace without government intervention.

SJW Busybody – Making your life miserable ever since 2008.

Sort of how China does it.

Anyways, you can bring your dogs and cats, and lamas (if you have one) into any establishment in China without problem. The only ones that would ask you to leave are American or Hong Kong businesses operating inside China. Their corporate structure has incorporated American and Western norms of conducting business.

Ah. The fools!

Anyways, China is sort of like this…

Yes, this is a pretty well trained dog. Most are not so well trained. But this is China, and you will get used to dogs eating at tables in restaurants, and shopping once you live here for a spell. You will. It’s pretty darn commonplace everywhere.

I like it. Part of it is because I am an animal lover. I love both dogs and cats. But, part of it is because I appreciate what freedom is. Bringing your pet with you into a restaurant is a freedom that most Americans cannot enjoy.

The difference between me and the typical American is that I know what freedom is, and what it is not. No matter how many time you try to convince me that seat-belts are important, that large sodas are dangerous, and that fire places are outdated, the laws that prohibit their use is an insult and an encroachment on MY freedom. I do not care if someone else thinks that I drink too much, eat food that is too fattening or too spicy, or care what breed my dog is. It’s none of their fucking business.

Freedom is the liberty to be left alone.

Freedom to be with your doggie.
Real freedom is one where you can practice living life without regulation, laws or rules. In China you can have the real freedom to be yourself and enjoy life without some SJW busybody calling an armed SWAT police force from the FDA on you. It’s frigging glorious.


There were many reasons for my decision to leave the USA and move elsewhere. You know, being around fat ugly aggressive women played a role. I mean, any woman that is bigger or heavier than me is a disgrace. You know, having people being promoted over you because they needed gender equality also played a role.

Taxes getting worse… Regulation increasing… News media making fun of me and my values… The constant onslaught of attempts to ban my guns… my alcoholic beverages… my smoking… and regulation on what I can do with my own body played a role.

Though, I guess a real nasty divorce from a closet radical feminist, and an aggressive IRS audit pretty much closed the deal. Trust me, if you have lived through what I endured, you would leave the shore of the USA faster than a hedgehog on fire!

Anyways, back to China and the FREEDOM and LIBERTY to eat with your dog in a public restaurant. Please keep in mind that that not all dogs are so well behaved. Like this one for instance…

Well, moving on to the next post in this series…

OK. At numerous videos for this part, let’s go and move on to the next post which covers even more strangeness inside of China this month…

Continued-graphic-arrow

If you want to go to the start of this series of posts, then please click HERE.

Links about China

Popular Music of China
Chinese weapons systems
Chinese motor sports
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
Dance Craze
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Fake Wine
Fat China
Business KTV
How I got married in China.
Chinese apartment houses
Chinese Culture Snapshots
Rural China
Chinese New Year

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Leaving the USA
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

The Chinese Business KTV Experience

This is the real deal. Forget about all that nonsense that you find in the British tabloids and an occasional write up in the American liberal press. This is the reality. Read or not.

KTV1
KTV2
KTV3
KTV4
KTV5
KTV6
KTV7
KTV8
KTV9
KTV10
KTV11
KTV12
KTV13
KTV14
KTV15
KTV16
KTV17
KTV18
KTV19
KTV20

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Contemporaneous Chinese Music

This is a series of posts that discuss contemporaneous popular music in China. It is a wide ranging and broad spectrum of travel, and at that, all that I am able to provide is the flimsiest of overviews. However, this series of posts should serve as a great starting place for investigation and enjoyment.

Part 1 - Popular Music of China
Part 3 -Popular music of China.
Part 3 - The contemporaneous music of China.
part 3B - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 4 - The contemporaneous popular music of China.
Part 5 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5B - The popular music of China.
Part 5C - The music of contemporary China.
Part D - The popular music of China.
Part 5E - A happy Joe.
Part 5F - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5F - The popular music of China.
Post 6 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 7 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 8 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 9 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 10 - Music of China.
Post 11 - The contemporaneous music of China.

Parks in China

Parks in China - 1
Pars in China - 2
Parks in China - 3
Visiting a park in China - 4
High Speed Rail in China
Visiting a park in China - 5
Beautiful China part 6
Parks in China - 7
Visiting a park in China - 8

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles sequentially by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

The Menace from Earth (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein

I first read this story when I was in Junior High School back in the 1970’s. The school library had a chrome-plated wire-frame arrangement where paper-books could be displayed. There were numerous Robert Heinlein books there, as well as collections of short stories, and works by Fredrick Pohl, and Arthur C. Clark. My favorites, give my age, were the youth-directed simplistic narratives generated by Robert Heinlein.

The Menace from earth book cover.
Book cover from the Science fiction story by Robert Heinlein.

This is a nice little story, and it remains an enjoyable read. Heinlein introduces the reader to the idea that science fiction is not a world of B-grade monsters and flying-saucers, but rather a normal day-to-day life that can and (perhaps) will, take place in exotic locations.

All during the 1950’s and the 1960’s, popular media expounded upon the ideas of “space monsters” and horrible creatures that lived in the depths of space. As a child during that time, we would watch “Space Cadet” and “Fireball XL-5” and imagine what it would be like to battle these hideous creatures.

Space Cadet
It was shows like “Space Cadet” that inspired me to study Aerospace Engineering, and desire to fly planes.

The Menace from Earth

by Robert Heinlein

My name is Holly Jones and I’m fifteen. I’m very intelligent but it doesn’t show, because I look like an underdone angel. Insipid.

I was born right here in Luna City, which seems to surprise Earthside types. Actually, I’m third generation; my grandparents pioneered in Site One, where the Memorial is. I live with my parents in Artemis Apartments, the new co-op in Pressure Five, eight hundred feet down near City Hall. But I’m not there much; I’m too busy.

Mornings I attend Tech High and afternoons I study or go flying with Jeff Hardesty—he’s my partner—or whenever a tourist ship is in I guide groundhogs. This day the Gripsholmgrounded at noon so I went straight from school to American Express.

The first gaggle of tourists was trickling in from Quarantine but I didn’t push forward as Mr. Dorcas, the manager, knows I’m the best. Guiding is just temporary (I’m really a spaceship designer), but if you’re doing a job you ought to do it well.

Mr. Dorcas spotted me. “Holly! Here, please. Miss Brentwood, Holly Jones will be your guide.”

“‘Holly,'” she repeated. “What a quaint name. Are you really a guide, dear?”

I’m tolerant of groundhogs—some of my best friends are from Earth. As Daddy says, being born on Luna is luck, not judgment, and most people Earthside are stuck there. After all, Jesus and Guatama Buddha and Dr. Einstein were all groundhogs.

But they can be irritating. If high school kids weren’t guides, whom could they hire? “My license says so,” I said briskly and looked her over the way she was looking me over.

Her face was sort of familiar and I thought perhaps I had seen her picture in those society things you see in Earthside magazines—one of the rich playgirls we get too many of. She was almost loathsomely lovely . . . nylon skin, soft, wavy, silver-blond hair, basic specs about 35-24-34 and enough this and that to make me feel like a matchstick drawing, a low, intimate voice and everything necessary to make plainer females think about pacts with the Devil. But I did not feel apprehensive; she was a groundhog and groundhogs don’t count.

“All city guides are girls,” Mr. Dorcas explained. “Holly is very competent.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she answered quickly and went into tourist routine number one: surprise that a guide was needed just to find her hotel, amazement at no taxicabs, same for no porters, and raised eyebrows at the prospect of two girls walking alone through “an underground city.”

Mr. Dorcas was patient, ending with: “Miss Brentwood, Luna City is the only metropolis in the Solar System where a woman is really safe—no dark alleys, no deserted neighborhoods, no criminal element.”

I didn’t listen; I just held out my tariff card for Mr. Dorcas to stamp and picked up her bags. Guides shouldn’t carry bags and most tourists are delighted to experience the fact that their thirty-pound allowance weighs only five pounds. But I wanted to get her moving.

We were in the tunnel outside and me with a foot on the slidebelt when she stopped. “I forgot! I want a city map.”

“None available.”

“Really?”

“There’s only one. That’s why you need a guide.”

“But why don’t they supply them? Or would that throw you guides out of work?”

See? “You think guiding is makework? Miss Brentwood, labor is so scarce they’d hire monkeys if they could.”

“Then why not print maps?”

“Because Luna City isn’t flat like—” I almost said, “—groundhog cities,” but I caught myself.

“—like Earthside cities,” I went on. “All you saw from space was the meteor shield. Underneath it spreads out and goes down for miles in a dozen pressure zones.”

“Yes, I know, but why not a map for each level?”

Groundhogs always say, “Yes, I know, but—”

“I can show you the one city map. It’s a stereo tank twenty feet high and even so all you see clearly are big things like the Hall of the Mountain King and hydroponics farms and the Bats’ Cave.”

“‘The Bat’s Cave,'” she repeated. “That’s where they fly, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s where we fly.”

“Oh, I want to see it!”

“OK. It first . . . or the city map?”

She decided to go to her hotel first. The regular route to the Zurich is to slide up and west through Gray’s Tunnel past the Martian Embassy, get off at the Mormon Temple, and take a pressure lock down to Diana Boulevard. But I know all the shortcuts; we got off at Macy-Gimbel Upper to go down their personnel hoist. I thought she would enjoy it.

But when I told her to grab a hand grip as it dropped past her, she peered down the shaft and edged back. “You’re joking.”

I was about to take her back the regular way when a neighbor of ours came down the hoist. I said, “Hello, Mrs. Greenberg,” and she called back, “Hi, Holly. How are your folks?”

Susie Greenberg is more than plump. She was hanging by one hand with young David tucked in her other arm and holding the Daily Lunatic, reading as she dropped. Miss Brentwood stared, bit her lip, and said, “How do I do it?”

I said, “Oh, use both hands; I’ll take the bags.” I tied the handles together with my hanky and went first.

She was shaking when we got to the bottom. “Goodness, Holly, how do you stand it? Don’t you get homesick?”

Tourist question number six . . . I said, “I’ve been to Earth,” and let it drop. Two years ago Mother made me visit my aunt in Omaha and I was miserable—hot and cold and dirty and beset by creepy-crawlies. I weighed a ton and I ached and my aunt was always chivvying me to go outdoors and exercise when all I wanted was to crawl into a tub and be quietly wretched. And I had hay fever. Probably you’ve never heard of hay fever—you don’t die but you wish you could.

I was supposed to go to a girls’ boarding school but I phoned Daddy and told him I was desperate and he let me come home. What groundhogs can’t understand is that they live in savagery. But groundhogs are groundhogs and loonies are loonies and never the twain shall meet.

Like all the best hotels the Zurich is in Pressure One on the west side so that it can have a view of Earth. I helped Miss Brentwood register with the roboclerk and found her room; it had its own port. She went straight to it, began staring at Earth and going ooh! and ahh! 

I glanced past her and saw that it was a few minutes past thirteen; sunset sliced straight down the tip of India—early enough to snag another client. “Will that be all, Miss Brentwood?”

Instead of answering she said in an awed voice, “Holly, isn’t that the most beautiful sight you ever saw?”

“It’s nice,” I agreed. The view on that side is monotonous except for Earth hanging in the sky—but Earth is what tourists always look at even though they’ve just left it. Still, Earth is pretty. The changing weather is interesting if you don’t have to be in it. Did you ever endure a summer in Omaha?

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Do you want to go somewhere? Or will you sign my card?”

“What? Excuse me, I was daydreaming. No, not right now—yes, I do! Holly, I want to go out there! I must! Is there time? How much longer will it be light?”

“Huh? It’s two days to sunset.”

She looked startled. “How quaint. Holly, can you get us space suits? I’ve got to go outside.”

I didn’t wince—I’m used to tourist talk. I suppose a pressure suit looked like a space suit to them. I simply said, “We girls aren’t licensed outside. But I can phone a friend.”

Jeff Hardesty is my partner in spaceship designing, so I throw business his way. Jeff is eighteen and already in Goddard Institute, but I’m pushing hard to catch up so that we can set up offices for our firm: “Jones & Hardesty, Spaceship Engineers.” I’m very bright in mathematics, which is everything in space engineering, so I’ll get my degree pretty fast. Meanwhile we design ships anyhow.

I didn’t tell Miss Brentwood this, as tourists think a girl my age can’t possibly be a spaceship designer.

Jeff has arranged his classes to let him guide on Tuesdays and Thursdays; he waits at West City Lock and studies between clients. I reached him on the lockmaster’s phone. Jeff grinned and said, “Hi, Scale Model.”

“Hi, Penalty Weight. Free to take a client?”

“Well, I was supposed to guide a family party, but they’re late.”

“Cancel them. Miss Brentwood . . . step into pickup, please. This is Mr. Hardesty.”

Jeff’s eyes widened and I felt uneasy. But it did not occur to me that Jeff could be attracted by a groundhog . . . even though it is conceded that men are robot slaves of their body chemistry in such matters. I knew she was exceptionally decorative, but it was unthinkable that Jeff could be captivated by any groundhog, no matter how well designed. They don’t speak our language!

I am not romantic about Jeff; we are simply partners. But anything that affects Jones & Hardesty affects me.

When we joined him at West Lock he almost stepped on his tongue in a disgusting display of adolescent rut. I was ashamed of him and, for the first time, apprehensive. Why are males so childish?

Miss Brentwood didn’t seem to mind his behavior. Jeff is a big hulk; suited up for outside he looks like a Frost giant from Das Rheingold; she smiled up at him and thanked him for changing his schedule. He looked even sillier and told her it was a pleasure.

I keep my pressure suit at West Lock so that when I switch a client to Jeff he can invite me to come along for the walk. This time he hardly spoke to me after that platinum menace was in sight. But I helped her pick out a suit and took her into the dressing room and fitted it. Those rental suits take careful adjusting or they will pinch you in tender places once out in vacuum . . . besides those things about them that one girl ought to explain to another.

When I came out with her, not wearing my own, Jeff didn’t even ask why I hadn’t suited up—he took her arm and started toward the lock. I had to butt in to get her to sign my tariff card.

The days that followed were the longest in my life. I saw Jeff only once . . . on the slidebelt in Diana boulevard, going the other way. She was with him.

Though I saw him but once, I knew what was going on. He was cutting classes and three nights running he took her to the Earthview Room of the Duncan Hines. None of my business!—I hope she had more luck teaching him to dance than I had. Jeff is a free citizen and if he wanted to make an utter fool of himself neglecting school and losing sleep over an upholstered groundhog that was his business.

But he should not have neglected the firm’s business!

Jones & Hardesty had a tremendous backlog because we were designing Starship Prometheus. This project we had been slaving over for a year, flying not more than twice a week in order to devote time to it—and that’s a sacrifice.

Of course you can’t build a starship today, because of the power plant. But Daddy thinks that there will soon be a technological break-through and mass-conversion power plants will be built—which means starships. Daddy ought to know—he’s Luna Chief Engineer for Space Lanes and Fermi Lecturer at Goddard Institute. So Jeff and I are designing a self-supporting interstellar ship on that assumption: quarters, auxiliaries, surgery, labs—everything.

Daddy thinks it’s just practice but Mother knows better—Mother is a mathematical chemist for General Synthetics of Luna and is nearly as smart as I am. She realizes that Jones & Hardesty plans to be ready with a finished proposal while other designers are still floundering.

Which was why I was furious with Jeff for wasting time over this creature. We had been working every possible chance. Jeff would show up after dinner, we would finish our homework, then get down to real work, the Prometheus . . . checking each other’s computations, fighting bitterly over details, and having a wonderful time. But the very day I introduced him to Ariel Brentwood, he failed to appear. I had finished my lessons and was wondering whether to start or wait for him—we were making a radical change in power plant shielding—when his mother phoned me. “Jeff asked me to call you, dear. He’s having dinner with a tourist client and can’t come over.”

Mrs. Hardesty was watching me so I looked puzzled and said, “Jeff thought I was expecting him? He has his dates mixed.” I don’t think she believed me; she agreed too quickly.

All that week I was slowly convinced against my will that Jones & Hardesty was being liquidated. Jeff didn’t break any more dates—how can you break a date that hasn’t been made?—but we always went flying Thursday afternoons unless one of us was guiding. He didn’t call. Oh, I know where he was; he took her iceskating in Fingal’s Cave.

I stayed home and worked on the Prometheus, recalculating masses and moment arms for hydroponics and stores on the basis of the shielding change. But I made mistakes and twice I had to look up logarithms instead of remembering . . . I was so used to wrangling with Jeff over everything that I just couldn’t function.

Presently I looked at the name plate of the sheet I was revising. “Jones & Hardesty” it read, like all the rest. I said to myself, “Holly Jones, quit bluffing; this may be The End. You knew that someday Jeff would fall for somebody.”

“Of course . . . but not a groundhog.”

“But he did. What kind of an engineer are you if you can’t face facts? She’s beautiful and rich—she’ll get her father to give him a job Earthside. You hear me? Earthside! So you look for another partner . . . or go into business on your own.”

I erased “Jones & Hardesty” and lettered “Jones & Company” and stared at it. Then I started to erase that, too—but it smeared; I had dripped a tear on it. Which was ridiculous!

The following Tuesday both Daddy and Mother were home for lunch which was unusual as Daddy lunches at the spaceport. Now Daddy can’t even see you unless you’re a spaceship but that day he picked to notice that I had dialed only a salad and hadn’t finished it. “That plate is about eight hundred calories short,” he said, peering at it. “You can’t boost without fuel—aren’t you well?”

“Quite well, thank you,” I answered with dignity.

“Mmm . . . now that I think back, you’ve been moping for several days. Maybe you need a checkup.” He looked at Mother.

“I do not either need a checkup!” I had not been moping—doesn’t a woman have a right not to chatter?

But I hate to have doctors poking at me so I added, “It happens I’m eating lightly because I’m going flying this afternoon. But if you insist, I’ll order pot roast and potatoes and sleep instead!”

“Easy, punkin’,” he answered gently. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Get yourself a snack when you’re through . . . and say hello to Jeff for me.”

I simply answered, “OK,” and asked to be excused; I was humiliated by the assumption that I couldn’t fly without Mr. Jefferson Hardesty but did not wish to discuss it.

Daddy called after me, “Don’t be late for dinner,” and Mother said, “Now, Jacob—” and to me, “Fly until you’re tired, dear; you haven’t been getting much exercise. I’ll leave your dinner in the warmer. Anything you’d like?”

“No, whatever you dial for yourself.” I just wasn’t interested in food, which isn’t like me. As I headed for Bats’ Cave I wondered if I had caught something. But my cheeks didn’t feel warm and my stomach wasn’t upset even if I wasn’t hungry.

Then I had a horrible thought. Could it be that I was jealous? Me? 

It was unthinkable. I am not romantic; I am a career woman. Jeff had been my partner and pal, and under my guidance he could have become a great spaceship designer, but our relationship was straightforward . . . a mutual respect for each other’s abilities, with never any of that lovey-dovey stuff. A career woman can’t afford such things—why look at all the professional time Mother had lost over having me!

No, I couldn’t be jealous; I was simply worried sick because my partner had become involved with a groundhog. Jeff isn’t bright about women and, besides, he’s never been to Earth and has illusions about it. If she lured him Earthside, Jones & Hardesty was finished.

And somehow “Jones & Company” wasn’t a substitute: the Prometheus might never be built.

I was at Bats’ Cave when I reached this dismal conclusion. I didn’t feel like flying but I went to the locker room and got my wings anyhow.

Most of the stuff written about Bats’ Cave gives a wrong impression. It’s the air storage tank for the city, just like all the colonies have—the place where the scavenger pumps, deep down, deliver the air until it’s needed. We just happen to be lucky enough to have one big enough to fly in. But it never was built, or anything like that; it’s just a big volcanic bubble, two miles across, and if it had broken through, way back when, it would have been a crater.

Tourists sometimes pity us loonies because we have no chance to swim. Well, I tried it in Omaha and got water up my nose and scared myself silly. Water is for drinking, not playing in; I’ll take flying. I’ve heard groundhogs say, oh yes, they had “flown” many times. But that’s not flying. I did what they talk about, between White Sands and Omaha. I felt awful and got sick. Those things aren’t safe.

I left my shoes and skirt in the locker room and slipped my tail surfaces on my feet, then zipped into my wings and got someone to tighten the shoulder straps. My wings aren’t ready-made condors; they are Storer-Gulls, custom-made for my weight distribution and dimensions. I’ve cost Daddy a pretty penny in wings, outgrowing them so often, but these latest I bought myself with guide fees.

They’re lovely!—titanalloy struts as light and strong as bird bones, tension-compensated wrist-pinion and shoulder joints, natural action in the alula slots, and automatic flap action in stalling. The wing skeleton is dressed in styrene feather-foils with individual quilling of scapulars and primaries. They almost fly themselves.

I folded my wings and went into the lock. While it was cycling I opened my left wing and thumbed the alula control—I had noticed a tendency to sideslip the last time I was airborne. But the alula opened properly and I decided I must have been overcontrolling, easy to do with Storer-Gulls; they’re extremely maneuverable. Then the door showed green and I folded the wing and hurried out, while glancing at the barometer. Seventeen pounds—two more than Earth sea-level and nearly twice what we use in the city; even an ostrich could fly in that. I perked up and felt sorry for all groundhogs, tied down by six times proper weight, who never, never, never could fly.

Not even I could, on Earth. My wing loading is less than a pound per square foot, as wings and all I weigh less than twenty pounds. Earthside that would be over a hundred pounds and I could flap forever and never get off the ground.

I felt so good that I forgot about Jeff and his weakness. I spread my wings, ran a few steps, warped for lift and grabbed air—lifted my feet and was airborne.

I sculled gently and let myself glide toward the air intake at the middle of the floor—the Baby’s Ladder, we call it, because you can ride the updraft clear to the roof, half a mile above, and never move a wing. When I felt it I leaned right, spoiling with right primaries, corrected, and settled in a counterclockwise soaring glide and let it carry me toward the roof.

A couple of hundred feet up, I looked around. The cave was almost empty, not more than two hundred in the air and half that number perched or on the ground—room enough for didoes. So as soon as I was up five hundred feet I leaned out of the updraft and began to beat. Gliding is no effort but flying is as hard work as you care to make it. In gliding I support a mere ten pounds on each arm—shucks, on Earth you work harder than that lying in bed. The lift that keeps you in the air doesn’t take any work; you get it free from the shape of your wings just as long as there is air pouring past them.

Even without an updraft all a level glide takes is gentle sculling with your finger tips to maintain air speed; a feeble old lady could do it. The lift comes from differential air pressures but you don’t have to understand it; you just scull a little and the air supports you, as if you were lying in an utterly perfect bed. Sculling keeps you moving forward just like sculling a rowboat . . . or so I’m told; I’ve never been in a rowboat. I had a chance to in Nebraska but I’m not that foolhardy.

But when you’re really flying, you scull with forearms as well as hands and add power with your shoulder muscles. Instead of only the outer quills of your primaries changing pitch (as in gliding), now your primaries and secondaries clear back to the joint warp sharply on each downbeat and recovery; they no longer lift, they force you forward—while your weight is carried by your scapulars, up under your armpits.

So you fly faster, or climb, or both, through controlling the angle of attack with your feet—with the tail surfaces you wear on your feet, I mean.

Oh dear, this sounds complicated and isn’t—you just do it. You fly exactly as a bird flies. Baby birds can learn it and they aren’t very bright. Anyhow, it’s easy as breathing after you learn . . . and more fun than you can imagine!

I climbed to the roof with powerful beats, increasing my angle of attack and slotting my alulae for lift without burble—climbing at an angle that would stall most fliers. I’m little but it’s all muscle and I’ve been flying since I was six. Once up there I glided and looked around. Down at the floor near the south wall tourists were trying glide wings—if you call those things “wings.” Along the west wall the visitors’ gallery was loaded with goggling tourists. I wondered if Jeff and his Circe character were there and decided to go down and find out.

So I went into a steep dive and swooped toward the gallery, leveled off and flew very fast along it. I didn’t spot Jeff and his groundhoggess but I wasn’t watching where I was going and over took another flier, almost collided. I glimpsed him just in time to stall and drop under, and fell fifty feet before I got control. Neither of us was in danger as the gallery is two hundred feet up, but I looked silly and it was my own fault; I had violated a safety rule.

There aren’t many rules but they are necessary; the first is that orange wings always have the right of way—they’re beginners. This flier did not have orange wings but I was overtaking. The flier underneath—or being overtaken—or nearer the wall—or turning counterclockwise, in that order, has the right of way.

I felt foolish and wondered who had seen me, so I went all the way back up, made sure I had clear air, then stooped like a hawk toward the gallery, spilling wings, lifting tail, and letting myself fall like a rock.

I completed my stoop in front of the gallery, lowering and spreading my tail so hard I could feel leg muscles knot and grabbing air with both wings, alulae slotted. I pulled level in an extremely fast glide along the gallery. I could see their eyes pop and thought smugly, “There! That’ll show ’em!”

When darn if somebody didn’t stoop on me! The blast from a flier braking right over me almost knocked me out of control. I grabbed air and stopped a sideslip, used some shipyard words and looked around to see who had blitzed me. I knew the black-and-gold wing pattern—Mary Muhlenburg, my best girl friend. She swung toward me, pivoting on a wing tip. “Hi, Holly! Scared you, didn’t I?”

“You did not! You better be careful; the flightmaster’ll ground you for a month!”

“Slim chance! He’s down for coffee.”

I flew away, still annoyed, and started to climb. Mary called after me, but I ignored her, thinking, “Mary my girl, I’m going to get over you and fly you right out of the air.”

This was a foolish thought as Mary flies every day and has shoulders and pectoral muscles like Mrs. Hercules. By the time she caught up with me I had cooled off and we flew side by side, still climbing. “Perch?” she called out.

“Perch,” I agreed. Mary has lovely gossip and I could use a breather. We turned toward our usual perch, a ceiling brace for flood lamps—it isn’t supposed to be a perch but the flightmaster hardly ever comes up there.

Mary flew in ahead of me, braked and stalled dead to a perfect landing. I skidded a little but Mary stuck out a wing and steadied me. It isn’t easy to come into a perch, especially when you have to approach level. Two years ago a boy who had just graduated from orange wings tried it . . . knocked off his left alula and primaries on a strut—went fluttering and spinning down two thousand feet and crashed. He could have saved himself—you can come in safely with a badly damaged wing if you spill air with the other and accept the steeper glide, then stall as you land. But this poor kid didn’t know how; he broke his neck, dead as Icarus. I haven’t used that perch since.

We folded our wings and Mary sidled over. “Jeff is looking for you,” she said with a sly grin.

My insides jumped but I answered coolly, “So? I didn’t know he was here.”

“Sure. Down there,” she added, pointing with her left wing. “Spot him?”

Jeff wears striped red and silver, but she was pointing at the tourist glide slope, a mile away. “No.”

“He’s there all right.” She looked at me sidewise. “But I wouldn’t look him up if I were you.”

“Why not? Or for that matter, why should I?” Mary can be exasperating.

“Huh? You always run when he whistles. But he has that Earthside siren in tow again today; you might find it embarrassing.”

“Mary, whatever are you talking about?”

“Huh? Don’t kid me, Holly Jones; you know what I mean.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” I answered with cold dignity.

“Humph! Then you’re the only person in Luna City who doesn’t. Everybody knows you’re crazy about Jeff; everybody knows she’s cut you out . . . and that you are simply simmering with jealousy.”

Mary is my dearest friend but someday I’m going to skin her for a rug. “Mary, that’s preposterously ridiculous! How can you even think such a thing?”

“Look, darling, you don’t have to pretend. I’m for you.” She patted my shoulders with her secondaries.

So I pushed her over backwards. She fell a hundred feet, straightened out, circled and climbed, and came in beside me, still grinning. It gave me time to decide what to say.

“Mary Muhlenburg, in the first place I am not crazy about anyone, least of all Jeff Hardesty. He and I are simply friends. So it’s utterly nonsensical to talk about me being ‘jealous.’ In the second place Miss Brentwood is a lady and doesn’t go around ‘cutting out’ anyone, least of all me. In the third place she is simply a tourist Jeff is guiding—business, nothing more.”

“Sure, sure,” Mary agreed placidly. “I was wrong. Still—” She shrugged her wings and shut up.

“‘Still’ what? Mary, don’t be mealy-mouthed.”

“Mmm . . . I was wondering how you knew I was talking about Ariel Brentwood—since there isn’t anything to it.”

“Why, you mentioned her name.”

“I did not.”

I thought frantically. “Uh, maybe not. But it’s perfectly simple. Miss Brentwood is a client I turned over to Jeff myself, so I assumed that she must be the tourist you meant.”

“So? I don’t recall even saying she was a tourist. But since she is just a tourist you two are splitting, why aren’t you doing the inside guiding while Jeff sticks to outside work? I thought you guides had an agreement?”

“Huh? If he has been guiding her inside the city, I’m not aware of it—”

“You’re the only one who isn’t.”

“—and I’m not interested; that’s up to the grievance committee. But Jeff wouldn’t take a fee for inside guiding in any case.”

“Oh, sure!—not one he could bank. Well, Holly, seeing I was wrong, why don’t you give him a hand with her? She wants to learn to glide.”

Butting in on that pair was farthest from my mind. “If Mr. Hardesty wants my help, he will ask me. In the meantime I shall mind my own business . . . a practice I recommend to you!”

“Relax, shipmate,” she answered, unruffled. “I was doing you a favor.”

“Thank you, I don’t need one.”

“So I’ll be on my way—got to practice for the gymkhana.” She leaned forward and dropped off. But she didn’t practice aerobatics; she dived straight for the tourist slope.

I watched her out of sight, then snaked my left hand out the hand slit and got at my hanky—awkward when you are wearing wings but the floodlights had made my eyes water. I wiped them and blew my nose and put my hanky away and wiggled my hand back into place, then checked everything, thumbs, toes, and fingers, preparatory to dropping off.

But I didn’t. I just sat there, wings drooping, and thought. I had to admit that Mary was partly right; Jeff’s head was turned completely . . . over a groundhog. So sooner or later he would go Earthside and Jones & Hardesty was finished.

Then I reminded myself that I had been planning to be a spaceship designer like Daddy long before Jeff and I teamed up. I wasn’t dependent on anyone; I could stand alone, like Joan of Arc, or Lise Meitner.

I felt better . . . a cold, stern pride, like Lucifer in Paradise Lost.

I recognized the red and silver of Jeff’s wings while he was far off and I thought about slipping quietly away. But Jeff can overtake me if he tries, so I decided, “Holly, don’t be a fool! You have no reason to run . . . just be coolly polite.”

He landed by me but didn’t sidle up. “Hi, Decimal Point.”

“Hi, Zero. Uh, stolen much lately?”

“Just the City Bank but they made me put it back.” He frowned and added, “Holly, are you mad at me?”

“Why, Jeff, whatever gave you such a silly notion?”

“Uh . . . something Mary the Mouth said.”

“Her? Don’t pay any attention to what she says. Half of it’s always wrong and she doesn’t mean the rest.”

“Yeah, a short circuit between her ears. Then you aren’t mad?”

“Of course not. Why should I be?”

“No reason I know of. I haven’t been around to work on the ship for a few days . . . but I’ve been awfully busy.”

“Think nothing of it. I’ve been terribly busy myself.”

“Uh, that’s fine. Look, Test Sample, do me a favor. Help me out with a friend—a client, that is—well, she’s a friend, too. She wants to learn to use glide wings.”

I pretended to consider it. “Anyone I know?”

“Oh, yes. Fact is, you introduced us. Ariel Brentwood.”

“‘Brentwood’? Jeff, there are so many tourists. Let me think. Tall girl? Blonde? Extremely pretty?”

He grinned like a goof and I almost pushed him off. “That’s Ariel!”

“I recall her . . . she expected me to carry her bags. But you don’t need help, Jeff. She seemed very clever. Good sense of balance.”

“Oh, yes, sure, all of that. Well, the fact is, I want you two to know each other. She’s . . . well, she’s just wonderful, Holly. A real person all the way through. You’ll love her when you know her better. Uh . . . this seemed like a good chance.”

I felt dizzy. “Why, that’s very thoughtful, Jeff, but I doubt if she wants to know me better. I’m just a servant she hired—you know groundhogs.”

“But she’s not at all like the ordinary groundhog. And she does want to know you better—she told me so!”

After you told her to think so! I muttered. But I had talked myself into a corner. If I had not been hampered by polite upbringing I would have said, “On your way, vacuum skull! I’m not interested in your groundhog girl friends”—but what I did say was, “OK, Jeff,” then gathered the fox to my bosom and dropped off into a glide.

So I taught Ariel Brentwood to “fly.” Look, those so-called wings they let tourists wear have fifty square feet of lift surface, no controls except warp in the primaries, a built-in dihedral to make them stable as a table, and a few meaningless degrees of hinging to let the wearer think that he is “flying” by waving his arms. The tail is rigid, and canted so that if you stall (almost impossible) you land on your feet. All a tourist does is run a few yards, lift up his feet (he can’t avoid it) and slide down a blanket of air. Then he can tell his grandchildren how he flew, really flew, “just like a bird.”

An ape could learn to “fly” that much.

I put myself to the humiliation of strapping on a set of the silly things and had Ariel watch while I swung into the Baby’s Ladder and let it carry me up a hundred feet to show her that you really and truly could “fly” with them. Then I thankfully got rid of them, strapped her into a larger set, and put on my beautiful Storer-Gulls. I had chased Jeff away (two instructors is too many), but when he saw her wing up, he swooped down and landed by us.

I looked up. “You again.”

“Hello, Ariel. Hi, Blip. Say, you’ve got her shoulder straps too tight.”

“Tut, tut,” I said. “One coach at a time, remember? If you want to help, shuck those gaudy fins and put on some gliders . . . then I’ll use you to show how not to. Otherwise get above two hundred feet and stay there; we don’t need any dining-lounge pilots.”

Jeff pouted like a brat but Ariel backed me up. “Do what teacher says, Jeff. That’s a good boy.”

He wouldn’t put on gliders but he didn’t stay clear either. He circled around us, watching, and got bawled out by the flightmaster for cluttering the tourist area.

I admit Ariel was a good pupil. She didn’t even get sore when I suggested that she was rather mature across the hips to balance well; she just said that she had noticed that I had the slimmest behind around there and she envied me. So I quit trying to get her goat, and found myself almost liking her as long as I kept my mind firmly on teaching. She tried hard and learned fast—good reflexes and (despite my dirty crack) good balance. I remarked on it and she admitted diffidently that she had had ballet training.

About mid-afternoon she said, “Could I possibly try real wings?”

“Huh? Gee, Ariel, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

There she had me. She had already done all that could be done with those atrocious gliders. If she was to learn more, she had to have real wings. “Ariel, it’s dangerous. It’s not what you’ve been doing, believe me. You might get hurt, even killed.”

“Would you be held responsible?”

“No. You signed a release when you came in.”

“Then I’d like to try it.”

I bit my lip. If she had cracked up without my help, I wouldn’t have shed a tear—but to let her do something too dangerous while she was my pupil . . . well, it smacked of David and Uriah. “Ariel, I can’t stop you . . . but I should put my wings away and not have anything to do with it.”

It was her turn to bite her lip. “If you feel that way, I can’t ask you to coach me. But I still want to. Perhaps Jeff will help me.”

“He probably will,” I blurted out, “if he is as big a fool as I think he is!”

Her company face slipped but she didn’t say anything because just then Jeff stalled in beside us. “What’s the discussion?”

We both tried to tell him and confused him for he got the idea I had suggested it, and started bawling me out. Was I crazy? Was I trying to get Ariel hurt? Didn’t I have any sense?

Shut up!” I yelled, then added quietly but firmly, “Jefferson Hardesty, you wanted me to teach your girl friend, so I agreed. But don’t butt in and don’t think you can get away with talking to me like that. Now beat it! Take wing. Grab air!”

He swelled up and said slowly, “I absolutely forbid it.”

Silence for five long counts. Then Ariel said quietly, “Come, Holly. Let’s get me some wings.”

“Right, Ariel.”

But they don’t rent real wings. Fliers have their own; they have to. However, there are second-hand ones for sale because kids outgrow them, or people shift to custom-made ones, or something. I found Mr. Schultz who keeps the key, and said that Ariel was thinking of buying but I wouldn’t let her without a tryout. After picking over forty-odd pairs I found a set which Johnny Queveras had outgrown but which I knew were all right. Nevertheless I inspected them carefully. I could hardly reach the finger controls but they fitted Ariel.

While I was helping her into the tail surfaces I said, “Ariel? This is still a bad idea.”

“I know. But we can’t let men think they own us.”

“I suppose not.”

“They do own us, of course. But we shouldn’t let them know it.” She was feeling out the tail controls. “The big toes spread them?”

“Yes. But don’t do it. Just keep your feet together and toes pointed. Look, Ariel, you really aren’t ready. Today all you will do is glide, just as you’ve been doing. Promise?”

She looked me in the eye. “I’ll do exactly what you say . . . not even take wing unless you OK it.”

“OK. Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“All right. Wups! I goofed. They aren’t orange.”

“Does it matter?”

“It sure does.” There followed a weary argument because Mr. Schultz didn’t want to spray them orange for a tryout. Ariel settled it by buying them, then we had to wait a bit while the solvent dried.

We went back to the tourist slope and I let her glide, cautioning her to hold both alulae open with her thumbs for more lift at slow speeds, while barely sculling with her fingers. She did fine, and stumbled in landing only once. Jeff stuck around, cutting figure eights above us, but we ignored him. Presently I taught her to turn in a wide, gentle bank—you can turn those awful glider things but it takes skill; they’re only meant for straight glide.

Finally I landed by her and said, “Had enough?”

“I’ll never have enough! But I’ll unwing if you say.”

“Tired?”

“No.” She glanced over her wing at the Baby’s Ladder; a dozen fliers were going up it, wings motionless, soaring lazily. “I wish I could do that just once. It must be heaven.”

I chewed it over. “Actually, the higher you are, the safer you are.”

“Then why not?”

“Mmm . . . safer provided you know what you’re doing. Going up that draft is just gliding like you’ve been doing. You lie still and let it lift you half a mile high. Then you come down the same way, circling the wall in a gentle glide. But you’re going to be tempted to do something you don’t understand yet—flap your wings, or cut some caper.”

She shook her head solemnly. “I won’t do anything you haven’t taught me.”

I was still worried. “Look, it’s only half a mile up but you cover five miles getting there and more getting down. Half an hour at least. Will your arms take it?”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Well . . . you can start down anytime; you don’t have to go all the way. Flex your arms a little now and then, so they won’t cramp. Just don’t flap your wings.”

“I won’t.”

“OK.” I spread my wings. “Follow me.”

I led her into the updraft, leaned gently right, then back left to start the counterclockwise climb, all the while sculling very slowly so that she could keep up. Once we were in the groove I called out, “Steady as you are!” and cut out suddenly, climbed and took station thirty feet over and behind her. “Ariel?”

“Yes, Holly?”

“I’ll stay over you. Don’t crane your neck; you don’t have to watch me, I have to watch you. You’re doing fine.”

“I feel fine!”

“Wiggle a little. Don’t stiffen up. It’s a long way to the roof. You can scull harder if you want to.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!”

“Not tired?”

“Heavens, no! Girl, I’m living!” She giggled. “And mama said I’d never be an angel!”

I didn’t answer because red-and-silver wings came charging at me, braked suddenly and settled into a circle between me and Ariel. Jeff’s face was almost as red as his wings. “What the devil do you think you are doing?”

“Orange wings!” I yelled. “Keep clear!”

“Get down out of here! Both of you!”

“Get out from between me and my pupil. You know the rules.”

“Ariel!” Jeff shouted. “Lean out of the circle and glide down. I’ll stay with you.”

“Jeff Hardesty,” I said savagely, “I give you three seconds to get out from between us—then I’m going to report you for violation of Rule One. For the third time—Orange Wings!

Jeff growled something, dipped his right wing and dropped out of formation. The idiot sideslipped within five feet of Ariel’s wing tip. I should have reported him for that; all the room you can give a beginner is none too much.

I said, “OK, Ariel?”

“OK, Holly. I’m sorry Jeff is angry.”

“He’ll get over it. Tell me if you feel tired.”

“I’m not. I want to go all the way up. How high are we?”

“Four hundred feet, maybe.”

Jeff flew below us a while, then climbed and flew over us . . . probably for the same reason I did: to see better. It suited me to have two of us watching her as long as he didn’t interfere; I was beginning to fret that Ariel might not realize that the way down was going to be as long and tiring as the way up. I was hoping she would cry uncle. I knew I could glide until forced down by starvation. But a beginner gets tense.

Jeff stayed generally over us, sweeping back and forth—he’s too active to glide very long—while Ariel and I continued to soar, winding slowly up toward the roof. It finally occurred to me when we were about halfway up that I could cry uncle myself; I didn’t have to wait for Ariel to weaken. So I called out, “Ariel? Tired now?”

“No.”

“Well, I am. Could we go down, please?”

She didn’t argue, she just said, “All right. What am I to do?”

“Lean right and get out of the circle.” I intended to have her move out five or six hundred feet, get into the return down draft, and circle the cave down instead of up. I glanced up, looking for Jeff. I finally spotted him some distance away and much higher but coming toward us. I called out, “Jeff! See you on the ground.” He might not have heard me but he would see if he didn’t hear; I glanced back at Ariel.

I couldn’t find her.

Then I saw her, a hundred feet below—flailing her wings and falling, out of control.

I didn’t know how it happened. Maybe she leaned too far, went into a sideslip and started to struggle. But I didn’t try to figure it out; I was simply filled with horror. I seemed to hang there frozen for an hour while I watched her.

But the fact appears to be that I screamed “Jeff!” and broke into a stoop.

But I didn’t seem to fall, couldn’t overtake her. I spilled my wings completely—but couldn’t manage to fall; she was as far away as ever.

You do start slowly, of course; our low gravity is the only thing that makes human flying possible. Even a stone falls a scant three feet in the first second. But that first second seemed endless.

Then I knew I was falling. I could feel rushing air—but I still didn’t seem to close on her. Her struggles must have slowed her somewhat, while I was in an intentional stoop, wings spilled and raised over my head, falling as fast as possible. I had a wild notion that if I could pull even with her, I could shout sense into her head, get her to dive, then straighten out in a glide. But I couldn’t reach her.

This nightmare dragged on for hours.

Actually we didn’t have room to fall for more than twenty seconds; that’s all it takes to stoop a thousand feet. But twenty seconds can be horribly long . . . long enough to regret every foolish thing I had ever done or said, long enough to say a prayer for us both . . . and to say good-by to Jeff in my heart. Long enough to see the floor rushing toward us and know that we were both going to crash if I didn’t overtake her mighty quick.

I glanced up and Jeff was stooping right over us but a long way up. I looked down at once . . . and I was overtaking her . . . I was passing her—I was under her! 

Then I was braking with everything I had, almost pulling my wings off. I grabbed air, held it, and started to beat without ever going to level flight. I beat once, twice, three times . . . and hit her from below, jarring us both.

Then the floor hit us.* * *

I felt feeble and dreamily contented. I was on my back in a dim room. I think Mother was with me and I know Daddy was. My nose itched and I tried to scratch it, but my arms wouldn’t work. I fell asleep again.

I woke up hungry and wide awake. I was in a hospital bed and my arms still wouldn’t work, which wasn’t surprising as they were both in casts. A nurse came in with a tray. “Hungry?” she asked.

“Starved,” I admitted.

“We’ll fix that.” She started feeding me like a baby.

I dodged the third spoonful and demanded. “What happened to my arms?”

“Hush,” she said and gagged me with a spoon.

But a nice doctor came in later and answered my question. “Nothing much. Three simple fractures. At your age you’ll heal in no time. But we like your company so I’m holding you for observation of possible internal injury.”

“I’m not hurt inside,” I told him. “At least, I don’t hurt.”

“I told you it was just an excuse.”

“Uh, Doctor?”

“Well?”

“Will I be able to fly again?” I waited, scared.

“Certainly. I’ve seen men hurt worse get up and go three rounds.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. Doctor? What happened to the other girl? Is she . . . did she . . . ?”

“Brentwood? She’s here.”

“She’s right here,” Ariel agreed from the door. “May I come in?”

My jaw dropped, then I said, “Yeah. Sure. Come in.”

The doctor said, “Don’t stay long,” and left. I said, “Well, sit down.”

“Thanks.” She hopped instead of walked and I saw that one foot was bandaged. She got on the end of the bed.

“You hurt your foot.”

She shrugged. “Nothing. A sprain and a torn ligament. Two cracked ribs. But I would have been dead. You know why I’m not?”

I didn’t answer. She touched one of my casts. “That’s why. You broke my fall and I landed on top of you. You saved my life and I broke both your arms.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I would have done it for anybody.”

“I believe you and I wasn’t thanking you. You can’t thank a person for saving your life. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I knew it.”

I didn’t have an answer so I said, “Where’s Jeff? Is he all right?”

“He’ll be along soon. Jeff’s not hurt . . . though I’m surprised he didn’t break both ankles. He stalled in beside us so hard that he should have. But Holly . . . Holly my very dear . . . I slipped in so that you and I could talk about him before he got here.”

I changed the subject quickly. Whatever they had given me made me feel dreamy and good, but not beyond being embarrassed. “Ariel, what happened? You were getting along fine—then suddenly you were in trouble.”

She looked sheepish. “My own fault. You said we were going down, so I looked down. Really looked, I mean. Before that, all my thoughts had been about climbing clear to the roof; I hadn’t thought about how far down the floor was. Then I looked down . . . and got dizzy and panicky and went all to pieces.” She shrugged. “You were right. I wasn’t ready.”

I thought about it and nodded. “I see. But don’t worry—when my arms are well, I’ll take you up again.”

She touched my foot. “Dear Holly. But I won’ be flying again; I’m going back where I belong.”

“Earthside?”

“Yes. I’m taking the Billy Mitchell on Wednesday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

She frowned slightly. “Are you? Holly, you don’t like me, do you?”

I was startled silly. What can you say? Especially when it’s true? “Well,” I said slowly, “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t know you very well.”

She nodded. “And I don’t know you very well . . . even though I got to know you a lot better in a very few seconds. But Holly . . . listen please and don’t get angry. It’s about Jeff. He hasn’t treated you very well the last few days—while I’ve been here, I mean. But don’t be angry with him. I’m leaving and everything will be the same.”

That ripped it open and I couldn’t ignore it, because if I did, she would assume all sorts of things that weren’t so. So I had to explain . . . about me being a career woman . . . how, if I had seemed upset, it was simply distress at breaking up the firm of Jones & Hardesty before it even finished its first starship . . . how I was not in love with Jeff but simply valued him as a friend and associate . . . but if Jones & Hardesty couldn’t carry on, then Jones & Company would. “So you see, Ariel, it isn’t necessary for you to give up Jeff. If you feel you owe me something, just forget it. It isn’t necessary.”

She blinked and I saw with amazement that she was holding back tears. “Holly, Holly . . . you don’t understand at all.”

“I understand all right. I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re a grown woman . . . but you haven’t found it out.” She held up a finger. “One—Jeff doesn’t love me.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Two . . . I don’t love him.”

“I don’t believe that, either.”

“Three . . . you say you don’t love him—but we’ll take that up when we come to it. Holly, am I beautiful?”

Changing the subject is a female trait but I’ll never learn to do it that fast. “Huh?”

“I said, ‘Am I beautiful?'”

“You know darn well you are!”

“Yes. I can sing a bit and dance, but I would get few parts if I were not, because I’m no better than a third-rate actress. So I have to be beautiful. How old am I?”

I managed not to boggle. “Huh? Older than Jeff thinks you are. Twenty-one, at least. Maybe twenty-two.”

She sighed. “Holly, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Huh? I don’t believe that either.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t show. But that’s why, though Jeff is a dear, there never was a chance that I could fall in love with him. But how I feel about him doesn’t matter; the important thing is that he loves you.”

What? That’s the silliest thing you’ve said yet! Oh, he likes me—or did. But that’s all.” I gulped. “And it’s all I want. Why, you should hear the way he talks to me.”

“I have. But boys that age can’t say what they mean; they get embarrassed.”

“But—”

“Wait, Holly. I saw something you didn’t because you were knocked cold. When you and I bumped, do you know what happened?”

“Uh, no.”

“Jeff arrived like an avenging angel, a split second behind us. He was ripping his wings off as he hit, getting his arms free. He didn’t even look at me. He just stepped across me and picked you up and cradled you in his arms, all the while bawling his eyes out.”

“He did?

“He did.”

I mulled it over. Maybe the big lunk did kind of like me, after all.

Ariel went on, “So you see, Holly, even if you don’t love him, you must be very gentle with him, because he loves you and you can hurt him terribly.”

I tried to think. Romance was still something that a career woman should shun . . . but if Jeff really did feel that way—well . . . would it be compromising my ideals to marry him just to keep him happy? To keep the firm together? Eventually, that is?

But if I did, it wouldn’t be Jones & Hardesty; it would be Hardesty & Hardesty.

Ariel was still talking: “—you might even fall in love with him. It does happen, hon, and if it did, you’d be sorry if you had chased him away. Some other girl would grab him; he’s awfully nice.”

“But—” I shut up for I heard Jeff’s step—I can always tell it. He stopped in the door and looked at us, frowning.

“Hi, Ariel.”

“Hi, Jeff.”

“Hi, Fraction.” He looked me over. “My, but you’re a mess.”

“You aren’t pretty yourself. I hear you have flat feet.”

“Permanently. How do you brush your teeth with those things on your arms?”

“I don’t.”

Ariel slid off the bed, balanced on one foot. “Must run. See you later, kids.”

“So long, Ariel.”

“Good-by, Ariel. Uh . . . thanks.”

Jeff closed the door after she hopped away, came to the bed and said gruffly, “Hold still.”

Then he put his arms around me and kissed me.

Well, I couldn’t stop him, could I? With both arms broken? Besides, it was consonant with the new policy for the firm. I was startled speechless because Jeff never kisses me, except birthday kisses, which don’t count. But I tried to kiss back and show that I appreciated it.

I don’t know what the stuff was they had been giving me but my ears began to ring and I felt dizzy again.

Then he was leaning over me. “Runt,” he said mournfully, “you sure give me a lot of grief.”

“You’re no bargain yourself, flathead,” I answered with dignity.

“I suppose not.” He looked me over sadly. “What are you crying for?”

I didn’t know that I had been. Then I remembered why. “Oh, Jeff—I busted my pretty wings!”

“We’ll get you more. Uh, brace yourself. I’m going to do it again.”

“All right.” He did.

I suppose Hardesty & Hardesty has more rhythm than Jones & Hardesty.

It really sounds better.*

Afterword by Eric Flint

Once we settled on Clarke’s Rescue Party as the opening story for the anthology, the choice for the second story was practically automatic: This one.

Well . . . not quite. The part that was more or less automatic was that it would be some story by Robert Heinlein. The question of which story in particular, however, was something we had to kick back and forth for a while.

We faced a bit of a problem. For all of us as teenagers, the Heinlein was not really the Heinlein who wrote short stories. It was the Heinlein who wrote that seemingly inexhaustible fountain of young adult novels: Rocket Ship Galileo, Citizen of the Galaxy, Have Spacesuit—Will Travel, Tunnel in the Sky, Time for the Stars, The Star Beast, Farmer in the Sky, Space Cadet, The Rolling Stone, Starman Jones . . . the list seemed to go on and on.
 

If books had infinite pages—or book buyers had infinitely deep pockets—we would have selected one of those short YA novels for the anthology. Alas, pages are finite and the pockets of customers more finite still, so we had to find another alternative.

We chose this story, because of all Heinlein’s short fiction it probably best captures the spirit of his great young adult novels. Most of Heinlein’s short fiction is quite different, often much grimmer, and—speaking for me, at least, if not necessarily Jim or Dave—not something which had much of an impact on me in my so-called formative years.
 

Plus, there was another bonus. Again, for me at least. I’m sure I first read this story when I was thirteen. I think that because I remember being absolutely fascinated by the fact that: a) the protagonist from whose viewpoint the story is told is a girl; b) she was really bright; c) she was often confused by her own motives and uncertain of herself, for all that she pretended otherwise.

Leaving factor “a” aside, factors “b” and “c” described me at that age to a T. That bizarre age in a boy’s life when girls had gone from being a very familiar, well-understood and mostly boring phenomenon to something that had suddenly become incredibly mysterious, even more fascinating—and completely confusing. 

After reading the story, I remember thinking that I really, really hoped Heinlein knew what he was talking about—and that the depiction of women and girls you generally ran across in science fiction of the time was baloney. With few exceptions, in SF of the time, a female character was doing well if she achieved one-dimensionality. And that dimension was invariably good looks. This was no help at all. I already knew girls were good-looking. What I needed to know was everything else—everything that Heinlein had put at the center of his story.

A year later I was fourteen and I had my first girlfriend, who remained so throughout my high school years. And whatever doubts I might have had that Robert A. Heinlein was the Heinlein were dispelled forever.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

The Smile (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

The Smile

By Ray Bradbury

   In the town square the queue had formed at five in the morning, while cocks were  crowing  far  out in the rimed country and there were no fires. All about, among  the  ruined  buildings, bits of mist had clung at first, but now with the new  light of seven o’clock it was beginning to disperse. Down the road, in twos
and  threes,  more  people were gathering in for the day of marketing the day of festival.

   The  small bay stood immediately behind two men who had been talking loudly in  the  clear air, and all of the sounds they made seemed twice as loud because of  the cold. The small boy stamped his feet and blew on his red, chapped hands, and  looked  up  at the soiled gunny-sack clothing of the men, and down the long line of men and women ahead. 

   ‘Here, boy, what’re you doing out so early?’ said the man behind him.

   ‘Got my place in line, I have,’ said the boy.

   ‘Whyn’t you run off, give your place to someone who appreciates?’

   ‘Leave the boy alone,’ said the man ahead, suddenly turning.

   ‘I  was  joking.’  The  man  behind put his hand on the boy’s head. The boy shook it away coldly. ‘I just thought it strange, a boy out of bed so early.’ 

   ‘This  boy’s  an  appreciator  of arts, I’ll have you know,’ said the boy’s defender, a man named Grigsby, ‘What’s your name, lad?’ 

   ‘Tom.’

   ‘Tom here is going to spit clean and true, right, Tom?’

   ‘I sure am!’

   Laughter passed down the line.

   A  man  was selling cracked cups of hot coffee up ahead. Tom looked and saw the  little  hot  fire  and  the  brew bubbling in a rusty pan. It wasn’t really coffee.  It  was  made from some berry that grew on the meadowlands beyond town, and  it sold a penny a cup to warm their stomachs; but not many were buying, not many had the wealth. 

   Tom  stared  ahead  to  the place where the line ended, beyond a bombed-out stone wall. 

   ‘They say she _smiles,’ _said the boy.

   ‘Aye, she does,’ said Grigsby.

   ‘They say she’s made of oil and canvas.’

   ‘True.  And  that’s  what  makes  me  think she’s not the original one. The original, now, I’ve heard, was painted on wood a long time ago.’ 

   ‘They say she’s four centuries old.’

   ‘Maybe more. No one knows what year this is, to be sure.’

   ‘It’s 2061’

   ‘That’s what they say, boy, yes. Liars. Could be 3,000 or 5,000, for all we know.  Things  were  in a fearful mess there for a while. All we got now is bits and pieces.’ 

   They shuffled along the cold stones of the street.

   ‘How much longer before we see her?’ asked Tom, uneasily.

   ‘Just  a  few more minutes. They got her set up with four brass poles and a velvet  rope to keep folks back. Now mind, no rocks, Tom; they don’t allow rocks thrown at her.’ 

   ‘Yes, sir.’

   The  sun  rose higher in the heavens, bringing heat which made the men shed their grimy coats and greasy hats. 

   ‘Why’re  we  all  here in line?’ asked Tom, at last. ‘Why’re we all here to spit?’ 

   Grigsby  did  not  glance  clown  at  him,  but judged the sun. ‘Well, Tom, there’s  lots of reasons.’ He reached absently for a pocket that was long gone, for  a  cigarette  that  wasn’t there. Tom had seen the gesture a million times. ‘Tom,  it  has to do with hate. Hate for everything in the Past. I ask you, Tom, how  did  we get in such a state, cities all junk, roads like jigsaws from bombs and half the cornfields glowing with radio-activity at night? Ain’t that a lousy stew, I ask you?’

   ‘Yes, _sir, I guess so.’

   ‘It’s this way, Tom. You hate whatever it was that got you all knocked down and ruined. That’s human nature. Unthinking, maybe, but human nature anyway.’ 

   ‘There’s hardly nobody or nothing we don’t hate,’ said Tom.

   ‘Right!  The  whole  blooming  caboodle of the people in Past who run the world.  So  here  we  are  on  a Thursday morning with our guts plastered to our spines,  cold,  live  in caves and such, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t nothing except have our festivals, Tom, our festivals.’ 

   And  Tom thought of the festivals in the past few years. The year they tore up  all  the  books  in  the  square  and burned them and everyone was drunk and laughing.  And the festival of science a month ago when they dragged in the last motor-car  and picked lots and each lucky man who won was allowed one smash of a sledge-hammer at the car. 

   ‘Do  I  remember  that,  Tom?  Do  I _remember? Why, I got smash the front window, you hear? My God, it made a lovely sound! Crash!’

   Tom could hear the glass falling in glittering heaps.

   ‘And  Bill  Henderson, he got to bash the engine. Oh, he did a smart job of it, with great efficiency. Wham!’ 

   But  the  best  of all, recalled Grigsby, there was the time they smashed a factory that was still trying to turn out aeroplanes. 

   ‘Lord,  did  we  feel good blowing it up!’ said Grigsby. ‘And then we found that newspaper plant and the munitions depot. and exploded them together. Do you understand, Tom?’ 

   Tom puzzled over it. ‘I guess.’

     It  was  high noon. Now the odors of the ruined city stank on the hot air and things crawled among the tumbled buildings. 

    ‘Won’t it ever come back, mister?’

   ‘What, civilization? Nobody wants it. Not me!’ ‘I could stand a bit of it,’ said the man behind another . ‘There were a few spots of beauty in it.’

   ‘Don’t  worry  your  heads,’  shouted  Grigsby.  ‘There’s no room for that, either.’ 

   ‘Ah,’  said  the  man  behind the man. ‘Someone’ll come along some day with imagination and patch it up. Mark my words. someone with a heart.’ 

   ‘No,’ said Grigsby.

   ‘I  say  yes.  Someone  with a soul for pretty things. Might give us back a kind of limited sort of civilization, the kind we could live in in peace.’

   ‘First thing you know there’s war!’

   ‘But maybe next time it’d be different,’

   At  last  they stood in the main square. A man on horseback was riding from the  distance  into the town. He had a peace of paper in his hand. In the centre of  the  square  was  the  roped-off  area.  Tom,  Grigsby,  and the others were collecting  their  spittle and moving forward moving forward prepared and ready, eyes wide. Tom felt his heart beating very strongly and excitedly, and the earth was hot under his bare feet. 

   ‘Here we go, Tom, let fly!’

   Four  policemen  stood at the corners of the roped area, four men with bits of  yellow  twine  on  their wrists to show thcir authority over other men. They were there to prevent rocks being hurled. 

   ‘This  way,’ said Grigsby at the last moment, ‘everyone. feels he’s had his chance at her, you see, Tom? Go on, now!’ 

   Tom stood before the painting and looked at it for a it for a long time.

   ‘Tom, spit!’

   His mouth was dry.

   ‘Get on, Tom! Move!’

   ‘But,’ said Tom, slowly, ‘she’s _beautiful.’

   ‘Here,  I’ll  spit  for  you!’  Grigsby  spat  and  the missile flew in the sunlight.  The  woman  in the portrait smiled serenely, secretly, at Tom, and he looked  back  at  her,  his  heart  beating, a kind of music in his ears. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said. 

   The  line  fell  silent.  One  moment they were berating Tom for not moving forward, now they were turning to the man on horseback. 

   ‘What do they call it, sir?’ asked Tom, quietly.

   ‘The picture? ‘Mona Lisa’, Tom, I think. Yes, the ‘Mona Lisa’.

   ‘I  have an announcement,’ said the man on horseback. ‘The authorities have decreed  that  as  of  high noon today tin portrait in the square is to be given over  into  the  hands  of  the  populace  there, so they may participate in the destruction of —‘ 

   Tom  hadn’t  even  time  to  scream before the crowd bore him, shouting and pummelling  about,  stampeding  toward  the  portrait. There was a sharp ripping sound.  The police ran to escape. The crowd was in full cry, their hands like so man,  hungry  birds pecking away at the portrait. Tom felt himself thrust almost through  the  broken  thing.  Reaching  out in blind imitation of the others, he snatched  a  scrap  of oily canvas, yanked, felt the canvas give, then fell, was kicked,  sent  rolling  to  the outer rim of the mob. Bloody, his clothing torn, watched  old  women  chew pieces of canvas, men break the frame, kick the ragged cloth, and rip it into confetti. 

   Only  Tom  stood  apart, silent in the moving square. He looked down at his hand. It clutched the piece of canvas close his chest, hidden. 

   ‘Hey there, Tom!’ cried Grigsby.

   Without a word, sobbing, Tom ran. He ran out and the down bomb-pitted road, into  a  field,  across  a  shallow  stream, not looking back, his hand clenched tightly, tucked under his coat. 

   At  sunset  he  reached  the  small  village and passed on through. By nine o’clock he came to the ruined farm dwelling. Around back, in the part that still remained  upright,  he  heard  the  sounds of sleeping, the family — his mother, father,  and  brother.  He slipped quickly, silently, through the small door and
lay down, panting. 

   ‘Tom?’ called his mother in the dark.

   ‘Yes.’

   ‘Where’ve you been?’ snapped his father. ‘I’ll beat you the morning.’

   Someone  kicked  him.  His  brother, who had been left behind to work their little patch of ground. 

   ‘Go to sleep,’ cried his mother, faintly.

   Another kick.

   Tom  lay  getting  his  breath.  All  was quiet. His hand was pushed to his chest, tight, tight. He lay for half an hour this way, eyes closed. 

   Then  he  felt  something, and it was a cold white light. Th moon rose very high and the little square of light crept slowly over Tom’s body. Then, and only then,  did his hand relax. Slowly, carefully, listening to those who slept about him,  Tom  drew  his  hand  forth. He hesitated, sucked in his breath, and then,
waiting, opened his hand and uncrumpled the fragment of painted canvas. 

   All the world was asleep in the moonlight.

   And there on his hand was the Smile.

   He  looked  at  it  in the white illumination from the midnight sky. And he thought, over to himself, quietly, the Smile, the lovely Smile.

   An  hour later he could still see it, even after he had folded it carefully and  hidden it. He shut his eyes and the Smile was there in the darkness. And it was still there, warm and gentle, when he went to sleep and the world was silent and the moon sailed up and then down the cold sky towards morning. 

Conclusion

Can you believe that I went to college with people who took classes that offered this story, and they never read it? Seriously. Instead, they studied the Cliff Notes and took the tests to get the grades. They completely bypassed the learning process.

Spark Notes
In colleges and universities, many students opt to study the Cliff Notes or Spark Note summaries of the stories. They do so as a quick way to hit the pints that you can be tested on. Unfortunately, once the test is completed, they forget what they crammed for, and while they might have obtained a grade, they learned NOTHING.

Not that they needed to learn. Many of whom were much wealthier than I was. They somehow got into university… somehow. Their parents were rich, or bankers, or had connections. They would run their BMW’s in pot-holes to splash icy water on me as I made my way to study in the Engineering Hall.

I find out about where they are now, by checking the University alumni rosters that are published yearly. Indeed, they are mostly doing well. Either stock brokers, bankers, or have major roles on the board of directors of companies. many obtained these role when they were in their middle 20’s.

Frat boys
Rich Frat boys at the university. Most managed to get into college through bribes or huge donations by their parents. While in school they didn’t need to study because they knew that they would be employed upon graduation for enormous amounts of money.

It’s truly amazing to me. Because I knew these ding-bats in university. They had the intelligence of a potato, and yet they somehow passed their SAT and got into university easily. Then during the entire time while I toiled and studied, they were just partying and having a great old time.

It didn’t seem fair then, and it isn’t fair now.

But you know, these stories of Ray Bradbury take us to places… strange places where our imagination can roam. They take us to places that stretch our emotions and tax our comprehension. To this, I must say to Mr. Bradbury; Thank you.

Because life is the sum total of our experiences. This is the width and the depth of our experiences. Mr. Bradbury has added color to mine. His stores made the air a little bit sweeter, the weather a little bit nicer, and my friends a little bit more important.

Those who have never experienced the stories of Ray Bradbury are denied this pleasure.

Attribution

This story was written by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. The Smile is a short story written in 1952, a year before Fahrenheit 451, which it shares a few ideas with. This story is set in the post-apocalyptic future (year 2061), where the last “bits and pieces” of civilization are destroyed by humanity itself.

I have found this version of the story on the Ray Bradbury library portal in Russia, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. (Рэй Брэдбери .RU found at http://www.raybradbury.ru ) And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

I love the way that Ray Bradbury brings advanced concepts to the masses though his very (seemingly) simplistic stories.

Background

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…” 
-R is for Rocket Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

All Summer in a Day (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

This is the full text of the Ray Bradbury story “All Summer In A Day“. If the illustrations and micro-videos are not loading properly please kindly refresh your browser.

ALL SUMMER IN A DAY

By Ray Bradbury

“Ready?”

“Now?”

“Soon.”

“Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?”

“Look, look; see for yourself!”

The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed, peering out for a look at the hidden sun.

It rained.

It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands.

A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was forever on the planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and women who had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their lives.

“It’s stopping, it’s stopping!”

“Yes, yes!”

Margot stood apart from them, from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn’t rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall.

Sometimes, at night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering gold or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with.

She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands.

But then they always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone.

All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun.

About how like a lemon it was, and how hot.

And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it: I think the sun is a flower; That blooms for just one hour.

That was Margot’s poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.

“Aw, you didn’t write that!” protested one of the boys.

“I did,” said Margot, “I did.”

“William!” said the teacher.

Children Picking on Child in Classroom again.
There was no escape. They children were relentless.

But that was yesterday.

Now the rain was slackening, and the children were crushed in the great thick windows.

“Where’s teacher?”

“She’ll be back.”

“She’d better hurry; we’ll miss it!”

They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes.

Margot stoodalone.

She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost.

Now she stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.

“What’re you looking at?” said William.

Margot said nothing.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.”

He gave her a shove.

But she did not move; rather she let herself be moved only by him and nothing else. They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city.

Bullied in school.
They bullied her. They were relentless in picking on her. She had no where to go and no defense.

If they tagged her and ran, she stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and life and games her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched the drenched windows. And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth, and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio. And they, they had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had long since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was.

But Margot remembered.

“It’s like a penny,” she said once, eyes closed. “No it’s not!” the children cried.

“It’s like a fire,” she said, “in the stove.”

“You’re lying, you don’t remember!” cried the children.

But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the water mustn’t touch her head.

So after that, dimly, dimly; she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away.

There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family.

And so, the children hated her for all these reasons of big and little consequence.

Children Picking on Child in Classroom
The children picked on her remorsefully without letting up.

They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future.

“Get away!” The boy gave her another push.

“What’re you waiting for?”

Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes.

“Well, don’t wait around here!” cried the boy savagely:

“You won’t see nothing!” Her lips moved.

“Nothing!” he cried. “It was all a joke, wasn’t it?”

He turned to the other children.

“Nothing’s happening today: Is it?” They all blinked at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads.

“Nothing, nothing!”

“Oh, but,” Margot whispered, her eyes helpless.

“But this is the day, the scientists predict, they say, they know, the sun. . .”

The children constantly bullied the poor girl.
Young girl being bullied at School

“All a joke!” said the boy, and seized her roughly.

“Hey, everyone, let’s put her in a closet before teacher comes!”

“No,” said Margot, falling back.

They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door.

They dragged her into a closet out of the classroom.
They dragged her into a closet out of the classroom.

They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it.

They heard her muffled cries.

She pounded and threw herself onto the door.
She pounded and threw herself onto the door.

Then, smiling, they turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.

“Ready, children?” She glanced at her watch.

“Yes!” said everyone.

“Are we all here?”

“Yes!”


The rain slackened still more.

They crowded to the huge door.

The rain stopped.


The rain stopped.
The rain stopped.

It was as if, in the midst of a film, concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of the blasts and repercussions and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector and inserted in its place a peaceful tropical slide which did not move or tremor.

The world ground to a standstill.


The silence was so immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing altogether.

The children put their hands to their ears.

They stood apart.


The door slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them.

The sun came out. It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling, into the springtime.

“Now, don’t go too far,” called the teacher after them.

“You’ve only two hours, you know. You wouldn’t want to get caught out!”

But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms.

“Oh, it’s better than the sunlamps, isn’t it?”

“Much, much better!”


They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus, that grew and never stopped growing, tumultuously, even as you watched it.

It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of flesh-like weed, wavering, flowering this brief spring.

It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the many years without sun.

It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the moon.

The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and squeak under them, resilient and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hide-and-seek and tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran down their faces, they put their hands up to that yellowness and that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and listened and listened to the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion.

They looked at everything and savored everything.


Then, wildly, like animals escaped from their caves, they ran and ran in shouting circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop running. And then

In the midst of their running one of the girls wailed.

Everyone stopped. The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.

“Oh, look, look,” she said trembling.

They came slowly to look at her opened palm.

She felt a drop of rain on her open palm.
She felt a drop of rain on her open palm.

In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop.

She began to cry; looking at it.

They glanced quietly at the sky. “Oh.Oh.”

A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths.

The sun faded behind a stir of mist. A wind blew cool around them.

They turned and started to walk back toward the underground house, their hands at their sides, their smiles vanishing away.

A boom of thunder startled them and like leaves before a new hurricane, they tumbled upon each other and ran.

Lightning struck ten miles away, five miles away, a mile, a half mile.

The sky darkened into midnight in a flash.

They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard.

Then they closed the door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.

“Will it be seven more years?”

“Yes. Seven.”

Then one of them gave a little cry, “Margot!”

“What?”

“She’s still in the closet where we locked her.”

Sad pupil being bullied by classmates at corridor in school
When you are alone, the rest of the children can do just terrible things to you.

“Margot.”

They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor.

They looked at each other and then looked away: They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining steadily.

They could not meet each other’s glances.

Their faces were solemn and pale.

They looked at their hands and feet, their faces down.

“Margot.” One of the girls said, “Well. . . ?”

No one moved.

“Go on,” whispered the girl.

They walked down the empty school hallway.
They walked down the empty school hallway.

They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of cold rain.

They turned through the doorway to the room in the sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces, blue and terrible. They walked over to the closet door slowly and stood by it.


Behind the closet door was only silence.


They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out.



Attribution

This story was written by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. This was first published in the March 1954 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

I have found this version of the story on the Ray Bradbury library portal in Russia, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. (Рэй Брэдбери .RU found at http://www.raybradbury.ru ) And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

I love the way that Ray Bradbury brings advanced concepts to the masses though his very (seemingly) simplistic stories.

Background

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…” 
-R is for Rocket Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

The Popular Music of China; Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Beijing – Part 5D

As we continue in our playful excursion into Chinese music and culture, please kindly take note of the following warning…

Please kindly note that this post has multiple embedded videos. It is important to view them. If they fail to load, all you need to do is to reload your browser.

China has a long history of strife and conflict. Not just in the last few decades, but for century after century, China has been embroiled in war and subterfuge.

B-24 bombing run.
The Chinese know and understand war, and they don’t want any part of it – if they can avoid it. The Western mainstream media propaganda machine about China “saber-rattling” is just yet another excuse to pull America into yet another war…

From the days of Genghis Khan to the Ming dynasty, all China has known has been one war after the other. Those that have survived the many purges, mass murders, wars, and devastation have become resourceful, sturdy and wary. They have evolved into the race of people that they are today.

They have come very far, and the last period of internal strife (when progressive liberal elements just about destroyed the nation and almost threw it back into the dark ages), they have vowed NEVER to risk it happening ever again.

They have licked their wounds and healed up. Now they are garnering their strength and they are a formidable nation to reckon with.

China is all about building upon the lessons of the past.

While everyone is in the Untied States rushing headlong towards destruction of the past to create a new progressive utopia, China is instead concentrating in the other direction. Instead, they are placing emphasis on their past and the lessons that they have learned.

The Chinese truly appreciate their past and their heritage. They are not ashamed of it. They do not teach their children about how they should be ashamed of it. They do not provide revisionist histories to indoctrinate the youth towards a progressive utopia. They do it differently.

Well… I think that I have beat this ol’ horse to death. Moving on…

The Chinese love K-Pop

Both the Koreans and the Chinese are of the Han race. As such, they look alike , think alike and act alike. The most popular music venue in Korea is Korean Pop, also known as K-pop for youse guys who have lived under a rock for the last twenty years.

The Chinese have embraced K-pop with the rest of Asia.

And here is a perfect example of why it is so popular. Many K-pop groups employ Chinese dancers and singers to supplement their Korean staff. It’s public knowledge, at least to those outside of the Untied States. For Americans, you need to deal with the processed pablum that the oligarchs decide can exact the maximum profit from you.

In China, everyone loves to sing. This includes girls, guys and animals. Music is an important part of the lives of everyone in China. The K-Pop and C-Pop concerts are interactive. It is not like you would expect in the West where everyone sits down and listens to the music. Instead it is participative.

In the last section I was complaining about the huge negro over-weight women shaking their enormous doughnut asses about. Well, you know all singers and dancers move their bodies about to one degree or the other. Here we see some chicks in a K-Pop group doing so. It;s not the same thing… not by a long shot.

But, you might ask… why is everyone participating? Why do people sing and dance? What is going on, and why is it going on?

Music is about emotions.

Here I just want to includes some songs that I personally enjoy. Here’s one of my favorite songs that I just love to sing in the KTV; “Wo de Bu Yi Yung”. I also like this video that shows how normal people, JUST LIKE YOU, can make the difference in the lives of others.

And here’s another version…

Here’s another upbeat song that goes great as a duo with a pretty Chinese girl. The micro-video is taken off a television show where they give aspiring young singers a chance at the “big time”.

And of course, I’m not the old American who loves to sing Chinese songs…Heh heh.

Let’s move on to the next part of this post…

Continued-graphic-arrow

If you want to go back to the start of this series, please go HERE.

Links about China

Dance Craze
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Business KTV
Fake Wine
Fat China
Chinese apartment houses
Chinese Culture Snapshots
Rural China
Chinese New Year

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Leaving the USA
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

The Chinese Business KTV Experience

KTV1
KTV2
KTV3
KTV4
KTV5
KTV6
KTV7
KTV8
KTV9
KTV10
KTV11
KTV12
KTV13
KTV14
KTV15
KTV16
KTV17
KTV18
KTV19
KTV20

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Why Women Need their own Personal Makeup Vanity Space

I am a big believer that men and women are different, and that the best way to maintain a strong family is to recognize these differences, embrace them and use them to our advantage. Of course, this is a traditional way of running a family household. It has worked for thousands of years. Today, I would like to concentrate on one of the fundamental elements of this traditional family setup; the Woman’s very-own Personal Vanity Space.

Men need their own spaces, of course. In Pittsburgh, the men would be given the basement, the garage, and the lower levels of a house. (Complete with a commode in the middle of the basement.) The women would get the largest bathroom in the house, and it would be “hers”. It was off limits to everyone else.

However, the need to use a bathroom as a personal vanity space was out of necessity. The ideal, of course, would be to have a separate room or area consisting of a vanity with large mirrors, great lighting and easy access to clothing. Here we talk about the specific design attributes for a vanity devoted to making a woman beautiful.

The Vanity

The most important element of this “personal space” is the vanity. This is a large specific piece of furniture that has only one purpose; for the woman of the house to preen herself and to make herself beautiful. This is because, in a traditional family, the way a woman takes care of herself is a direct reflection of how well the family is taken cared for.

It is important for a woman to take care of herself, in health, in emotion, in behaviors and in beauty.

Vanity
Here is a vanity found in a locked up “time capsule” in Paris when the 91 year old owner died. This vanity has all the elements that will be discussed herein.

The Mirror

Make no mistake. The most important aspect of the vanity is the mirror. In general, the bigger the mirror, the better. In the above picture, we see a moderate sized mirror that is wider along the horizontal axis. This shows the great consideration to the importance of a mirror.

The need for a large mirror is so that the woman can see herself as she would look within a larger setting.

That is true. During the preening and makeup process, the woman will spend hours getting ready and looking beautiful. She will look at every facial imperfection, but in the end, the real issue is how she will look when it is all finished. That is the purpose of the vanity mirror.

Note that this main mirror is NOT the primary mirror. The vanity should have a smaller mirror, often with good lighting so that the woman can spend time working on the details of applying the makeup. There are all sorts of smaller makeup mirrors that serve this purpose. Some have built-in lights. While others have an enlargement mirror that enables really closeup views of the face.

Waterfall vanity
This vanity is referred to as a “waterfall vanity” from the 1920’s. Note the generous size of the mirror. The larger mirror allows the woman to see herself in “the larger picture”. It is, perhaps, the most important attribute of a vanity.

The best vanity mirrors, in my mind are 1.5 yards in diameter. (Roughly four feet.) If you have the room, an enormous mirror of two yards in diameter would be excellent. Though, often this is not possible simply because of the constraints of the room.

What ever you do, you want to avoid the vanity table that only has a singular small mirror. That is good for closeup and facial preening, but it is totally useless for the final and overall finished effect. If you have a smaller vanity table, then you will need to supplement it with a standing full-length mirror…

Vanity 2
Here is another vanity with a nice round mirror. It is not as fancy as the others, and very plain. Never the less, it has a space for shoes, five drawers and the ability for the woman to preen herself in all her glory.

But, the standing full-length mirror is a poor substitute. A woman needs to see HOW SHE LOOKS IN A ROOM.

A full-length mirror only shows the woman how she looks. She can see if her shoes match her outfit, or how her hair looks, or whether or not her outfit matches. The best mirror for a woman is a mirror that takes it all in. The woman can see how she looks in totality.

The Table Surface

The vanity needs to have a wide table top. Here the woman can place her beauty equipment, her masks, her facial cremes, her blushes, her eyeliners and her brushes in easy reach. The ideal vanity would be wide, but not so deep. Everything on the top surface would be easy to reach and would not fall off the side.

Three mirror vanity
Here is a three mirror vanity. Usually three mirror vanities have mirrors that can be placed at angles so the woman can see how she looks at different points of view. Personally, I don’t care for them, but they do exist, and there are many women who love these types of vanities.

Some surfaces have a nice wood finish, while others might have a velvet top or nice mat. It all depends on the person who is using the vanity. Usually, it should be big enough for some small pictures in frames of loved ones, children or pets.

Drawers and Storage

There should be one lockable drawer. The rest can be regular drawers to contain other elements that the woman might want to store. I say that the drawer should be lockable simply because everyone should be afforded privacy.

Sure, any police or criminal can easily break into the drawer, but the purpose of the lock is to prevent children from getting into personal belongings, a nosy neighbor who suddenly “needs to use your bathroom”, or inquisitive kids.

Remember, having privacy does not mean that someone has things to hide. It simply means that we are permitted our own space to do with it as we may without consideration from others.

Another beautiful vanity.
Here is another beautiful vanity. I love the woodwork, the clock and the enormous mirror. This is what a vanity is all about. Notice the center table surface. It is lower than the sides. Any bottles, or pictures placed there would not obstruct the mirror. Also take note of the space under the vanity to place ones’ feet. This is an absolutely beautiful vanity.

Under Storage

Underneath the vanity should be enough area for the woman to put her feet. Also, to kick off some shoes or other items so that they are comfortably placed.

Some women like to have a pillow under the vanity so that they could rest their feet on the pillow when they put the makeup on. Such as in the 70 year old vanity picture above.

The vanity is a womans’ space. It is designed solely for the comfort of a woman using it. When a woman is “getting ready” in front of the vanity, she should be relaxed and comfortable.

The Chair

The chair should be so that it is light with a very shallow or low back. The seat must be cushioned, and adornment is fine as long as it is tastefully done. In general, the woman should have a chair that matches the vanity. It should be easy to move around and match the overall tastes and styles of the woman who uses it. Some women prefer to use a piano stool, but I do not think that that is a good idea. I believe that the chair should fit the overall style of the vanity itself.

Chair.
Typical chair for use with a vanity. This is a fine antique version that shows off the wonderful woodwork and carving details.

Why Women Need a Quality Vanity

I argue that both men and women NEED a personal place or space. In the American sitcom “Married with Children”, the father of the family treasured “his” bathroom in the basement. I have friends who have their own workshops or shed that are “theirs”. I am of the belief that we need to accept the importance of privacy in our own lives. We need to have our own spaces to take care of ourselves and relax in our own “personal space” free from interruption and concern.

Combing hair at a vanity.
Illustration of a woman brushing her hair at a vanity. These article of furniture are very important, and care must be exercised in their selection.

For the woman of a family, she is often kept quite busy with family responsibilities, the children and a multitude of other tasks. it is her time getting preened in front of the mirror that should be her little space…her little bit of time… her place where she can relax, center herself and devote all her attention on one thing, and one thing only; looking beautiful.

Conclusion

"My mom always had her own bathroom, vanity, and dressing area.  It was filled with things that fascinated me as a little girl. Things  that smelled nice and had fancy packaging. My dad also had his own area  consisting of a workshop and office. I was also fascinated with his area  and used to look inside of his toolboxes and ask him what all of these  odd-looking things were for.

Husband and I are the same way. I will not share a bathroom, closet, or dressing area with my husband and made it perfectly clear before we married. He has his personal space as well. I think this is extremely important in a marriage and contributes to overall harmony in the house. Men and women are different and complimentary. Everyone needs their own stuff and personal space for said stuff."

- grimalkin

Life is far too short to ignore the things that are important. If you are part of a traditional family, then you must take the time, the resources and the money to buy the best vanity that you can afford. It is important for the woman of the house.

It is the woman who will keep the household together in a wildly careening world. She must be given the necessary equipment to maintain the family unit to the best of her abilities. It is the responsibility of the man to recognize this fact, and to take action to make it happen.

Today we live in a world where everyone carelessly announces the desserts they eat, and what their favorite colors are to complete strangers. There are people, known as trolls, that make fun of these people, and find joyous abandon in making fun of everything they find on line. Yet the fact remains, we as people need some time alone. We need to compose ourselves and to gather our life about us. We need to define life on our terms. A pleasant space, and a moment of solitude can do wonders in this regard.

Oval mirror vanity.
Another antique vanity table and mirror. Note that this mirror is an oblong oval shape along the horizontal axis. It is perfect for the woman to get herself ready for the day.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

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Tomatos
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Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
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Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

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Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

What being an American really means

Let’s spend some time talking about what it is to be an American. For we are all a very unique and special breed of person. This is a truth that should be obvious to anyone who has the ability to think. After all, what would the 20th century look like were America not to have existed? That being said, the sad reality is that we take this role for granted.

Oh, we certainly say that “America is the best”, and we wave the flag around a lot, but we do not really and truly appreciate just how spectacular we actually are.

Top Ten Misconceptions

Here, in this article, I make the argument that we Americans have gotten used to being unique. I also posit that others, with evil intent, have used this knowledge to deceive Americans and have made us believe many untruths. They have convinced us of many things that are just not so. They are lies, or at the very least, distortions of the truth. These lies and falsehoods have deceived us. They have tricked us. They have enslaved us. Yet, we continue to follow the lies that allow us to follow a dangerous path.

The way that they have enslaved us is through deception. What a American is has been redefined. And as such, has become so inclusive that everyone and everything from the welfare-immigrant to the ratty village dog down the street now considers themselves “American”. When they are absolutely and positively not.

Being a United States citizen does not automatically qualify you to be an American. No matter how loudly the progressive left shouts this from their mainstream media outlets. Being an American is a state of mind, an attitude and a way of life. You don’t automatically become an American just because you get food stamps. You don’t automatically become an American simply because you were born here. (That includes birth-right immigration.) And, you don’t automatically get to call yourself an American by being in possession of a Green Card.

Being an American is a [1] way of life, and [2] a thought process, that [3] comes through earned experiences.

Others with evil intent have altered the meaning of what An American is. They have done this for their own purposes, just like they have redefined what “gender” is, “being white” is, and the history of America is. Here’s some misconceptions, or excuses, that we allow to enslave us.

Buckle up…

“Americans live in the United States”

Being an American is an idea, and a behavior. It is not limited by geography.

While many Americans live inside the geographical confines of the United States, not all do. Americans live all over the world, and some even live outside and above it.

ISS
The International Space Station with the American Space Shuttle docked to it. Americans are everywhere. They are not limited to Earth-bound geography.

Further, just living inside of the confines of the United States does not qualify that person as an American. Are the (reported 30+ thousand) illegals in the United States American? What about those that want to overthrow the government? Like the radical Marxists, the Antifa, the BLM and the radical SJW types? Are they Americans?

America is a great place, full of wonderful people. However, if you even suggest that there are other places, outside the USA, that are equally nice, you will be laughed at. When you tell a person that it’s a big beautiful world, full of fresh opportunities and a sense of freedom, and most people will look at you like you are crazy.

In their mind, there is only one place on the entire planet that is wonderful. That is the USA, and the USA alone.

To them, the rest of the world looks like a dark and dingy place. It looks like El Paso on a cloudy day. It looks like a Brazilian garbage dump or a “Save the Children” commercial. The rest of the world has shabby buildings, poorly dressed people, terrible food, and miserable people.

Brazilian garbage dump.
The rest of the world as described by CNN. The world is a grey and hopeless place. We must all count our blessings that we live in America and not in a Brazilian garbage dump. That’s why taxes must be kept high. Else the nations would collapse and become this image. Yikes!

That’s not true. it’s not even remotely true.

For decades, if not centuries, Americans have been subjected… dare I say it,; bombarded, with the notion that there is one “greatest” nation on the planet. It is the geographical nation known as the United States of America. Nothing else even comes close.

Of course…

That was, of course, because the United States was populated by Americans. Americans ran the nation. Americans invented things. Americans defended their freedoms. No other nation, no other country; no other geographic region possessed such a high percentage of hard-working Americans. The United States was alone in that regard.

Thus, over time, the United States became associated with “being an American”.

Ah, but, things have changed since then.

Today, real Americans are no longer a majority in the United States. They are a minority. There are over 30 million illegal non-citizens in the Untied States today. (That is six times the size of New York City.) Nearly one half of the legal population believe that security is more important than freedom. Many of these very same people do not work, nor do they want to work. They just want to feed off the government trough. In their sloth, they elect like-minded people to rule over them. (Which is the fundamental idea behind “vote harvesting”.)

Time Magazine.
Time Magazine promoting the idea that everyone is an American. It’s just the unfair immigration laws that prohibit people from becoming legal Americans.

As a result, because of these people, the United States has changed into something else.

Travel

The United States is only as great as the Americans that occupy it and rule it.

That being said, let me make something perfectly clear. Being an American is an attitude and a behavior. It is not limited by geography.

So, let me say this. Americans live all over the globe. We are special whether we live in Timbuktu, or Omaha. Being an American is not defined by geography. It is defined by attitude.

In my mind there is no comparison between an American Cowboy that happens to be living and working in Japan, or Socialist ignoramus Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez who has never set foot outside of the United States. The two are NOT the same. They might both be United States citizens, but they are NOT both Americans.

Being an American is an idea that burns in our hearts.

An American
Here is an American talking about his life. Is he bragging about all the women that he banged on his casting couch? Is he talking about the money that he made on bitcoin, or the new software startup that he is planning at Starbucks? Nope. None of that.

If the concept about liberty and freedom does not burn in your heart, if that idea is foreign to you, if that concept is alien to you, then you are NOT an American. This is true whether you physically live in the United States or not.

Quang Nguyen who escaped from Vietnam and founded Caddis Branding Agency said,

”You see, America is not just a place on the map, it isn't just a physical location. It is an ideal, a concept. And if you are an American, you must understand the concept, you must accept this concept, and most importantly, you have to fight and defend this concept. This is about Freedom and not free stuff. And that is why I am standing up here.”

- 12/29/2018, 10:53:05 AM by Retain Mike

“The United States is the land of freedom”

That was absolutely true, not so very long ago. The United States was certainly was the best – and it was unique. It was populated by Americans. These Americans made it special.

But that United States no longer exists, except as an ideal. Moreover, the geography it occupied has been co-opted by the United States, which today is run by globalists who treat it just like another nation-state. And, most unfortunately, one that’s become especially predatory toward its citizens.

It has.

The United States has changed. It no longer is what it was first intended to be.

In the 1960’s, when I was a young boy there was no such thing as the “Federal Police” – The DHS. We fought wars, but only one at a time. While there were taxes, but we didn’t need to have both parents work just to GET BY.

The United States has changed.

Reagan GIF
President Ronald Reagan tells it like it is. No one listened. Those presidents that followed him ignored his warning and the nation has suffered considerably since.

The United States is no longer the freedom loving land that it was established as. With each law, was a removal and limitation on freedom. Today, the laws are voluminous, with over two centuries of freedom limitations and restrictions.

Liberty does not thrive when you must pee in a cup to get a job.

Freedom is never having to ask permission to eat, drink or do something with your own body.

We need to take a good hard look at our life inside the United States. We need to make comparisons to what it was like for our parents, our grandparents, and our founders to see how far changed and different our life is today. It is only through these comparisons that we can see if our excuses to look outside “of the box” has any merit.

Real Americans yearn for a life where they do not ever need to prove themselves, ask permission to do anything, or maintain records of their activities. Real Americans yearn for Liberty.

The patriot.
In the British colonies, an early version of the DHS (the Department of Homeland Security) seizes a citizen under the suspension of Habeas Corpus during a “no-knock” raid. We need to look at our history using modern terminology and situations to truly appreciate our past.

“My parents and grandparents were born here; I have roots in this country.”

True. This is a truth that many of us have. It is a truth that I have. Though, truthfully, my grandparents immigrated here from Europe. The life that they found here was better than what they left.

Can I say truthfully that the life that my grandparents left – as it is today – as worse, the same or better than what I have as an a American? If being an United States citizen places you at ANY kind of disadvantage, then the liberties that was promised to you by them are lost.

This idea is based on the concept that here; in the United States that you have a place to live free under liberty. For that is what Americans yearn for. It is a chance to better the lives of your children.

The United States was founded by Americans FOR Americans.

It has since changed.

This idea of United States being for Americans with American values, was at one time true. You could really provide a decent standard of living for your family and your extended family. But this is no longer true.

It has been taken over by people who no longer share the American values. Today the only people who have a chance at a successful life are the privileged.

Hillary CLinton and the scales of justice.
Nothing should be a greater slap in the face of balance and equality as to how Hillary Clinton is treated by the oligarchy. When you have a shoplifter getting 100 year prison terms, and a serial criminal getting no punishment, obviously the scales of justice are completely out of wack and no longer functional.

For we live in a stratified society today.

It is a society that benefits from having multiple balkanized groups of disparate people. A handful of wealthy oligarchs profit from this arrangement, while the rest of the nation suffers. This is the r/K strategy, and it is alive and thriving in the United States today. The r/K strategy benefits the wealthy.

r/K selection theory

When people start to refer to “the rich”, and we have two sets of laws; one for the rich and one for everyone else. Then, we know that that our “roots” and history in this nation is on a short leash. Soon, the leash will get shorter and shorter and the world that we grew up in will no longer exist, and what ever roots we had will be of no consequence.

Pyramid of America.
The idea that America still represents the people that live there is an outdated concept that no longer has any validity. The situation has reversed itself and as time increases, it is becoming more an more untenable for the inhabitants of middle America.

Now, I do understand. This is an understandable emotion; everyone has an atavistic affinity for his place of birth. This includes our friends as well. If you buy this argument, then it’s clear your forefathers, who came from Europe, Asia, or Africa, were made of sterner stuff than you are.

Buck up and be a man. Things change. Situations change, and we have the responsibility to move with the changes. We owe it to ourselves and to our children.

A real American fights for Freedom, Liberty and Justice when there is a reasonable chance in obtaining them.

However, when the situation is untenable and the ability to procure the basic needs required of an American is no longer attainable, then the real American relocates elsewhere in the direction toward real freedom and real liberty.

We see this with many Americans home schooling their children. We see this with many Americans moving out of progressive socialist enclaves like California, Detroit, and Baltimore. We see this with many Americans wanting to put the brakes on unlimited immigration and the resultant balkanization of the United States.

We see this today. It’s all over the news. It’s just not framed in this kind of understanding. It is framed in other terms…

“Trump is trying to limit the options of other global citizens who only want a small piece of the American pie.”

“No way! I’m not going to be unpatriotic.”

Patriotism is one of those things very few even question and even fewer examine closely. I’m a patriot, you’re a nationalist, he’s a jingoist. But let’s put such a tendentious and emotion-laden subject aside.

Here, I am going to make my stance clear on this matter. Being an “Patriotic American”, is an American (that follows the criteria of the American ideal) that supports other like-minded Americans.

Being a patriotic American is NOT saying proudly that you support the Untied States, and all the people in the nation. For that is ludicrous. That is like saying that you support everyone, everything, all the time. It does not make sense.

Yet, if you query any Internet search engine, that is what you will discover.

In their minds American Patriotism is blind support for the United States government in everything that it does.

In that understanding, patriotism is support for the seven far off wars that the United States is currently fighting. (Hey! Quick sanity check; can you actually identify the seven nations that we are fighting. Quick…3…2…1… identify them.)

Today a true patriot – an effective patriot – would be acting on his / her own beliefs. These beliefs would be fundamentally founded on the basic principles of freedom and liberty. And a real patriot understands that America is not a place; it’s an idea. It deserves to be spread.

America is not a place. It is an idea; an idea of liberty and freedom to pursue life with the tools that God granted us. If you are somewhere where the tree of liberty is withering, you have the responsibility to either tend to it, or leave. A true American lives a life in Liberty.

An Americans Creed.
A real American does not NEED a place to define who or what he is. Being an American is an idea, and an ideal. A true American live a life of freedom and liberty. If where he lives does not permit that kind of life, he moves elsewhere where he can live and flourish.

A True American patriots would act in terms of liberty and freedom, and would support other (like minded) patriots.

“The best work is here where I am. I might not be able to earn a decent living elsewhere.”

Spoken like a person with little imagination and even less self-confidence. And, likely little experience or knowledge of economics. Seriously.

For many, many years, perhaps a good solid century the United States was THE place where you went to invent things, build things, produce things, and sell things. America was the only place where there was a sizable middle class that would purchase your products. America was the only place where you could get your products made. America was the only place where you could build up your life from scratch.

Times have changed.

The rest of the world does not look anything like it is portrayed on CNN, MSNBC or WaPo. It does not look like it is portrayed on FOX or Drudge either. The rest of the world is carrying on. They are living life… on their terms.

There are growing and sizable middle class communities all over the globe. You can find them in such diverse places as Argentina, Namibia, Lithuania, and China. These growing communities hunger for products. They yearn for technology. They welcome investment, and growth.

Yet closing your eyes and pretending that ONLY the United States has a middle class is a siren song. It’s a “feel good” belief that is an illusion. It prevents you from seeing what really is. That is dangerous.

Buck up! You are an American. We came from the likes of David “Davy” Crockett, James Bowie, Paul Revere, and William B. Travis. They weren’t afraid of anything. Yet, here we are today.

Build up your life

A real American welcomes others, of like mind, to join us. In our minds, the world would be a far better place with everyone living as an American tending to their families and bettering their communities. Don’t forget who and what you are!

You are an American!

A true American can live and thrive anywhere on the planet. In point of fact, though, it tends to be easier to earn big money in a foreign country, because you will have knowledge, experience, skills, and connections the locals don’t. Even at the bare minimum, you can speak English. Couple that with any working skills that you have picked up over the years, and you might be pleased to discover just how much of an expert you actually are.

Joe Banks
In the movie “Joe vrs the volcano”, the character Joe Banks was miserable living a life without freedom and liberty. Then, when given the change for adventure (with a terminating finality) he takes it and discovers that there is more to life living for money and security. He is the quintessential American.

BTW… Being an American is not defined by gender or culture.

The really great thing about being an American is that it is an attitude and a way of life. Anyone can be an American. A man, a woman, a transgender, a gay person… or anyone of those mysterious other genders (that I am still not clear on) can become an American. All you need to have is a strong inner yearning for Freedom and Liberty.

It is that yearning for freedom and liberty the right to be left alone…followed by the right to be forgotten are very important to the American.

Working American.
Americans tend to be hard-working salt-of-the-earth types. You won’t find them sitting on a latte in Starbucks, protesting some injustice way off in Africa, or demanding a handout. They work for a living and provide for their families.

And, yes, you do not have to reside inside the United States to be an American. I have met people all over the world that are far more “American” than many United States citizens I see about. Oh, you know who I am taking about; those folk in the welfare lines, riding scooters inside wal-mart, or protesting in frilly pink hats.

When every anyone hyphenates their name, using the terms like African-American or Indian-American, or Cuban-American they are not being an American. They are identifying themselves as something else entirely. They might as well call themselves a resident of Talfamadore. That is how out of touch they are with what an American stands for.

Americans view themselves simply thus. They have no need to segregate themselves into some other kind of sub-class or group.
Americans view themselves simply thus. They have no need to segregate themselves into some other kind of sub-class or group.

“I am unhappy, but I don’t have enough capital to start my own company, change my life, or make a move.”

Well, that was one thing that kept serfs down on the farm. Capital gives you freedom. On the other hand, a certain amount of poverty can underwrite your freedom, since possessions act as chains for many. For me, I didn’t experience true and real freedom until I lost just about everything that I had.

Possessions are limiting.

Wal-mart shoppers.
Wal-mart shoppers in line for their weekly run. Since when did the United States government start providing motorized carts for the obese? Since when did people start needing them to buy groceries. This picture sums up what is wrong with the Untied States today. It is no longer the land of Americans.

A real American doesn’t need them. A real American can pick up with nothing in a strange land and build up a life from scratch. Remember, being an American is a concept; an idea. It’s not a place.

Being an American is portable. You carry it with you no matter where you go. You have a feeling of self worth, and ability. When the need comes, an American will do what ever it takes to build his / her life from nothing.

An American.
Ron Swanson. I am an American. Know what this is all about. Do not fall for the illusion that being a United States citizen makes you an American. It does not.

Many United States citizens cannot do this. They are too afraid, too tied to the government, and living off the meager handouts provided to them. Whether it is food subsidies, medical attention, or reduced bus fares. They vote for more “free” stuff. They demand a paternal government.

As a result many United States citizens are becoming fat and lazy. They demand their “free stuff”. They exchange their liberty and freedom for glitzy baubles and commercially promoted gizmos. It is so insidious that even our pets are becoming overweight.

Fat cat.
Todays’ culture in the United States does not promote the ideas of liberty and freedom. It promotes sloth and a lazy culture demanding immediate gratification. It has even affected our pets.

Real Americans are so unlike these domesticated cattle that it just amazes me that they are considered to be Americans at all.

“I don’t want to give up my U.S. citizenship to live as an American should.”

There’s no need to.

I advise that every real American to live his or her life in freedom and liberty. If you can still do so in the United States, that is fantastic. Surround yourself with other like minded Americans, and teach your youth the importance of being an American.

However, there are very strong and large forces that are in the process of making the United States the antagonistic opposite of liberty and freedom. These people are a THREAT to all Americans, but most especially to you and your family.

Our Democracy
America is not a democracy, though the 12th and the 17th amendments tried to make it that way. Now, America today is a bastardized mess with the worst elements of both a Republic and a mob-ruled Democracy. Ugh!

Yes, these people are a threat. Over time, their power has increased to a point where now they can seriously influence your freedom and liberty. I suggest that you do what you can to protect you and your family for their influence.

Link

If you can, use what leverage you have at the county and state level. Make the changes needed for your happiness. If you cannot, then a serious reconsideration of life outside the United States is warranted.

Link
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Real Americans are unhappy unless they are living a life of freedom and liberty. Their very being screams for this. If they can no longer achieve it in the Untied States, they must reluctantly move elsewhere and work towards a life living elsewhere.

“The United States is a democracy with freedom for everyone.”

If you think we still have a democracy or a democratic republic, ask yourself this: When was the last time Congress did something that the people of America supported that did not align with corporate interests? … You probably can’t do it

Oh, and by the way, the ability to vote does not define freedom.

They vote in communist nations. They vote in dictatorships. They vote in totalitarian nightmares. Voting is an illusion that rulers give to common people to give them the illusion that they have some degree of control.

Deep state hydra.
If America was truly supportive of the people, then the internal American government would be supportive of this ideal. However, it is not. They run and operate against this idea and concept. They are supportive of the oligarchy and fight violently anyone that opposes them.

Everything they do has to do with corporate and personal interests. Trying to find them do something that is for the citizens alone is just about impossible. It’s like trying to think of something that rhymes with “orange.”

You feel like an answer exists but then slowly realize it just doesn’t.

Even the democrat think-tank at the Carter Center and even the former President Jimmy Carter believe that America has been transformed into an oligarchy. This is where a small, corrupt elite control the country with almost no input from the people.

There’s some news stories: “Senate Easily Passed Trump-Backed Criminal Justice Reform Bill.” There are 87 votes in the Senate for it, and yet things the American people have expressed for decades that they want, have voted over and over and over again to say that they want, have sent somebody to Washington from outside the political system to get done, and there’s no hope.

There’s not a shining chance that this is gonna get done. And they gloat and they applaud and they celebrate in Washington over this. Some of this stuff is just so frustrating and maddening and defies any kind of common sense explanation.

This is swamp behavior at its best.

This is the greatest illustration of how much of a game all of this actually is. We’re made to think that it’s cutthroat and real. And, meanwhile, it’s just all a game, how this stuff happens, in Congress, in the House, in the Senate in Washington.


-Rush Limbaugh

The rulers need the myth that we’re a democracy to give us the illusion of control.

The United States is an oligarchy. It was founded by Americans with the American values of liberty and freedom. However, other United States citizens, non-Americans all, altered it into a democracy that has evolved into an oligarchy. It is not the place where Americans can find happiness any longer.

The truth is that the United States was founded as a Republic to provide freedom and liberty for like-minded Americans. Then, in short order non-Americans who were elected to office, altered the constitution by the 12th and 17th amendments to make the United States into a democracy.

I cover this great travesty here…

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People, while we have been bombarded with the notion that the best type of government is through “rule by mob”; a democracy. that is a big lie and deception. For it puts vast amount of power into the hands of a corrupt few.

I write about it here..

Democracy

And, along these lines…

“America has an accountable and legitimate voting system. I don’t want a dictatorship.”

Sure. What ever you want to believe. Though, most people stop believing in the Easter Bunny at 5 years old. And Santa Claus at seven years old.

Gerrymandering, voter purging, data mining, broken exit polling, push polling, super-delegates, electoral votes, black-box machines, voter ID suppression, provisional ballots, super PACs, dark money, third parties banished from the debates and two corporate parties that stand for the same goddamn pile of fetid crap!

Even a casual observer, overseas, and outside of the Untied States media bubble can see this. Either [1] you are too stupid to see what is directly in front of your eyes, or [2] you do not want to face the reality and the consequences of what that reality means.

My guess is that most people do not want to face the truth. For the implications of it and what it means are ugly. I write about it here…

The elections in the United States today are all just political theater. The politics in the United States today are all just theater. The mainstream news, and even elements of the alternative news, are all theater.

Election Fraud.
America’s election system is broken. It is filled with fraud of different types and so many problems that the results of elections rarely represent the will of the people.

What part of this sounds like a legitimate election system?

No, we have what a large Harvard study called the worst election system in the Western world. Have you ever seen where a parent has a toddler in a car seat, and the toddler has a tiny, brightly colored toy steering wheel so he can feel like he’s driving the car? That’s what our election system is—a toy steering wheel. Not connected to anything. We all sit here like infants, excitedly shouting, “I’m steeeeering!”

And I know it’s counter-intuitive, but that’s why you have to vote. We have to vote in such numbers that we beat out what’s stolen through our ridiculous rigged system.

Americans need to vote, and make sure that non-Americans cannot. The election process needs to be fixed, else the United States continue the dark road towards enslaved serfdom.

American cowboy
Real Americans live for their freedom and liberty. When someone or something works to steal that and take that away from them, they take actions to secure it. Americans simply cannot live as kept creatures surviving off handouts from the government. They whither and dies. Those that survive take drugs and opioids to make their existence tolerable.

“We have an independent media that reports news and keeps the elected officials accountable.”

Ah. Have you been watching the American media lately?

Translation: “We’ve done everything we could! We’ve lied about him. We’ve tried to find the truth. We’ve tried to make everybody hate this guy, and they’re getting tired of us telling you about it!” 

So rather than slink away and go away, they add to it. They ratchet it up.

“Murphy went on to say that she believed that negative news about Trump hurt Republicans in the midterms. ‘I do think that he has paid a price if you look at the results of the midterm election, and so I don’t think people are turning a blind eye,’ she said.

“‘I think their one mechanism to show “hey, this bothers me,” “hey, this upsets me,” is through voting,'” and who knows if there’s a point to that. Pfft!

How does this stuff not hurt to some extent? I mean, that’s its purpose.

-Rush Limbaugh

Our media outlets are funded by weapons contractors, big pharma, big banks, big oil and big, fat hard-on pills. (Sorry to go hard on hard-on pills, but we can’t get anything resembling hard news because it’s funded by dicks.)

Fake News
The mainstream press media are considered and called “fake news” because they do not report news. They are comprised of entertainers who’s job is to manipulate the public.

The corporate media’s jobs are to rally for war, cheer for Wall Street and froth at the mouth for consumerism. They are primarily a collection of globalist progressive liberals with an inherent belief that government should take on a parental role, while the rest of the population obeys their dictates.

CNN
American media are elite that live within their own bubble of reality. they report DOWN to the United States citizenry.

It’s their mission to actually fortify belief in the myths I’m telling you about right now. Anybody who steps outside that paradigm is treated like they’re standing on a playground wearing nothing but a trench coat.

No one in the media holds Congress accountable for anything…

Your tax dollars at work.
Your tax dollars at work.

“We have an independent judiciary that will give me a fair shake if I ever get into trouble.”

The criminal justice system has become a weapon wielded by the corporate state. This is how bankers can foreclose on millions of homes illegally and see no jail time, but activists often serve jail time for nonviolent civil disobedience.

Sessions
Anyone who still believes this myth after the huge amount of inaction by Attorney general Rip Van Sessions should be ashamed of themselves.

Chris Hedges recently noted, “The most basic constitutional rights … have been erased for many. … Our judicial system, as Ralph Nader has pointed out, has legalized secret law, secret courts, secret evidence, secret budgets and secret prisons in the name of national security.”

If you’re not part of the monied class, you’re pressured into releasing what few rights you have left. According to The New York Times, “97 percent of federal cases and 94 percent of state cases end in plea bargains, with defendants pleading guilty in exchange for a lesser sentence.”

That’s the name of the game. Pressure people to take the plea deal because they don’t have a million dollars to spend on a lawyer. (At least not one who doesn’t advertise on beer coasters.)

The United States judiciary no longer serves Americans. They serve the interests of the monied elite. To these people, you and your family, are just resources from which they can extract from what they may and discard the rest.

“The police are here to protect you. They’re your friends.”

That’s funny. I don’t recall my friend pressuring me into sex to get out of a speeding ticket. (Which is essentially still legal in 32 states.)

The police in our country are primarily designed to do two things: protect the property of the rich and perpetrate the completely immoral war on drugs—which by definition is a war on our own people.

HIllary and the law.
Justice is no longer blind in the Untied States. There is no longer equal justice for all. The scales are so obviously corrupted that it might just be beyond redemption. We might need to destroy everything and start all over again.

We lock up more people than any other country on earth. Meaning the land of the free is the largest prison state in the world. So all these droopy-faced politicians and rabid-talking heads telling you how awful China is on human rights or Iran or North Korea—none of them match the numbers of people locked up right here under Lady Liberty’s skirt.

Americans cannot practice freedom and liberty in the United States. You risk fines and jail time for smoking in a restaurant, driving without a seat-belt, eating sunny-side up eggs, or using a plastic straw in some locations. That is not freedom. Especially when it comes with career-ending, family-ruining penalties.

“Buying things will make you happy.”

This myth is put forward mainly by the floods of advertising we take in but also by our social engineering.

Most of us feel a tenacious emptiness, an alienation deep down behind our surface emotions (for a while I thought it was gas). That uneasiness is because most of us are flushing away our lives at jobs we hate before going home to seclusion boxes called houses or apartments. We then flip on the TV to watch reality shows about people who have it worse than we do (which we all find hilarious).

Citizen cattle
United States citizens are cattle for a select few can profit from.

If we’re lucky, we’ll make enough money during the week to afford enough beer on the weekend to help it all make sense. (I find it takes at least four beers for everything to add up.) But that doesn’t truly bring us fulfillment.

So what now?

Well, the ads say buying will do it. Try to smother the depression and desperation under a blanket of flat-screen TVs, purses and Jet Skis. Now does your life have meaning? No? Well, maybe you have to drive that Jet Ski a little faster! Crank it up until your bathing suit flies off and you’ll feel alive!

American taxes
As if being told to buy things isn’t enough, the system is rigged so that the government and the rich oligarchs profit from all transactions. There are taxes and fees associated with everything you do. There is no escape from them. Like it or not. These go to many things, but the narrative that it’s all for bridges and roads far way short when other nations with much less tax revenue have better roads and bridges than the Untied States has.

The dark truth is that we have to believe the myth that consuming is the answer or else we won’t keep running around the wheel. And if we aren’t running around the wheel, then we start thinking, start asking questions. Those questions are not good for the ruling elite, who enjoy a society based on the daily exploitation of 99 percent of us.

The United States has turned into a huge resource farm. The resource consists of the United States citizenry, what they consume, what they do, and how they behave. True Americans cannot thrive in this environment, as it is inherently unhealthy.

“If you work hard, things will get better.”

This is an obvious lie. Yet few understand it.

I am reminded by the movie “Joe vs the Volcano”. For it speaks volumes in this instance…

Joe Versus the Volcano gives 20 minutes of its hour-and-42-minute runtime to the horrors of Joe’s job at American Panascope (Home of the Rectal Probe). And it’s significant that the first thing we see as people trudge to their jobs is Joe literally losing his sole.

I’ve never seen the soul-sucking despair of a bad job summed up better than in this scene. And as if that hellish circular conversation isn’t enough, there’s the green light, the buzzing flourescents, the coffee that can best be described as ‘lumpy’, and the coworkers, who are just as sad and defeated as Joe.

Watching this, I’m reminded of all the crap jobs I’ve taken to pay my bills, which I can only assume was the point: rather than the fairytale careers of most rom-coms, JVtV was trying to dig closer to the exhaustion that lies at the heart of American capitalism.

Against this despair, Joe makes only a single palliative gesture: bringing a musical lamp in as a Band-Aid to a gushing wound.

The first 20 minutes of the film are so bleak, in fact, that when Joe is finally diagnosed with a terminal ‘braincloud’ his impending death comes as a relief. This moment is even coded as comforting in the film: where Mr. Waturi’s basement is a hideously green, fluorescent dungeon, the doctor’s office is warm and wood paneled, lit by small glowing lamps and a roaring fire. It’s the first inviting space we’ve seen in the film, and we’re only there, with Joe, to learn that he’s going to die.

Then we’re shunted back to the office, where we have to confront the realities of capitalism again. Joe doesn’t have any savings, he can’t afford to go on a final trip, there’s a hole in the bucket list, but Joe has to quit.

Even with that horror written on his face, he uses his last moments at American Panascope to appeal to his boss and coworkers. Surely they can see that life in this office is actually a living death?

When Waturi, sneers at him, “I promise you, you’ll be easy to replace!”

Joe snaps, pushes Waturi against the wall, and yells,

“And why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you? I can’t imagine, but now I know. Fear. Yellow freakin’ fear. I’ve been too chicken shit afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hundred freakin’ dollars a week! My life! I sold it to you for three hundred dollars a week! You’re lucky I don’t kill you!”

This is the first time it becomes explicit: Joe has been selling his life without questioning the transaction (the way most of us do), and only now that he sees an endpoint does he realize how much more he was worth. This distillation of life into money is made even more explicit the next morning, when Samuel Graynamore shows up at his door.

Preparing myself for death with Joe vs the Volcano

According to Deloitte’s Shift Index survey: “80% of people are dissatisfied with their jobs” and “[t]he average person spends 90,000 hours at work over their lifetime.” That’s about one-seventh of your life—and most of it is during your most productive years.

Rat Race
Are you living the rat race? Is your life a constant struggle and then you get a paycheck so you can buy things? Well, that is the life in the United States. However, that is not the way it is in the rest of the world. There is balance.

Ask yourself what we’re working for. To make money? For what? Almost none of us are doing jobs for survival anymore. Once upon a time, jobs boiled down to:

I plant the food—>I eat the food—>If I don’t plant food = I die.

But nowadays, if you work at a café—will someone die if they don’t get their super-caf-mocha-frap-almond-piss-latte? I kinda doubt they’ll keel over from a blueberry scone deficiency.

If you work at Macy’s, will customers perish if they don’t get those boxer briefs with the sweat-absorbent-ass fabric? I doubt it. And if they do die from that, then their problems were far greater than you could’ve known.

So that means we’re all working to make other people rich because we have a society in which we have to work. Technological advancements can do most everything that truly must get done.

A rat race comic.
This is what work and what a career has become in the United States today. I argue that this kind of consumer-focused life is not acceptable for Americans who live for liberty and freedom.

So if we wanted to, we could get rid of most work and have tens of thousands of more hours to enjoy our lives. But we’re not doing that at all. And no one’s allowed to ask these questions—not on your mainstream airwaves at least. Even a half-step like universal basic income is barely discussed because it doesn’t compute with our cultural programming.

Joe 1
Scene from the movie “Joe vs the Volcano”. Americans yearn for freedom. When we work at a job that stifles this freedom we become unhappy. We become sick. We become ill. Remember back in the 1990’s when we had the term “going postal”? It is a natural progression of what happens when freedom and liberty are suppressed.

Scientists say it’s quite possible artificial intelligence will take away all human jobs in 120 years. I think they know that will happen because bots will take the jobs and then realize that 80 percent of them don’t need to be done! The bots will take over and then say, “Stop it. … Stop spending a seventh of your life folding shirts at Banana Republic.”

One day, we will build monuments to the bot that told us to enjoy our lives and … leave the shirts wrinkly.

There are many misconceptions about work. In the United States today, work is a tool used to control. However, it doesn’t need to be that way. A true and real American can identify what work is necessary and what work is trivial. He / she can balance their life and work without interruption from an intrusive government or legions of busybodies.

And this leads me to the largest myth of our United States society.

“You are free.”

I’m not talking about the millions locked up in our prisons. I’m talking about you and me.

As I have mentioned elsewhere, freedom is the ability to sit down at a restaurant with your dog, smoke a cigarette, drink a beer and eat a dish of sunny-side-up eggs without having the police called on you. Freedom is the ability to drive without worrying if you will get pulled over by the police.

Freedom & Liberty in China

I understand there are certain restrictions on freedom we actually desire to have in our society—maybe you’re not crazy about a big pile of shit awaiting you in the middle of your walk to work. But a lot of our lack of freedom is not something you would vote for if given the chance.

  • Try smoking a cigarette with your breakfast and coffee at the Waffle House.
  • Try sleeping in your car for more than a few hours without being harassed by police.
  • Try bringing your dog into a McDonalds and having a big Mac with him.
  • Try maintaining your privacy for a week without a single email, web search or location data set collected by the NSA and the telecoms.
  • Try running for president as a third-party candidate. (Jill Stein was shackled and chained to a chair by police during one of the debates.)

We are less free than a dog on a leash. We live in one of the hardest-working, most unequal societies on the planet with more billionaires than ever.

Meanwhile, Americans supply 94 percent of the paid blood used worldwide. And it’s almost exclusively coming from very poor people. This abusive vampire system is literally sucking the blood from the poor. Does that sound like a free decision they made? Or does that sound like something people do after immense economic force crushes down around them? (One could argue that sperm donation takes a little less convincing.)

Point is, in order to enforce this illogical, immoral system, the corrupt rulers—most of the time—don’t need guns and tear gas to keep the exploitation mechanisms humming along. All they need are some good, solid bullshit myths for us all to buy into, hook, line and sinker. Some fairy tales for adults.

It’s time to wake up.

I would like to reemphasize that it’s pure foolishness to have your loyalties dictated by the lines on a map or the dictates of some ruler. The nation-state itself is on its way out. Oh, the one wold order may never materialize, but the ideas of nations that represent the joint will of the citizens may never be wholly recoverable.

We need to carve our a home for fellow Americans where ever we are, and secure it from encroachment.

Dangerous Encounter
Dangerous Encounter. Real Americans fight and strive for liberty and freedom.

The world is changing. Over time it will increasingly be aligned with what we call phyles, groups of people who consider themselves countrymen based on their interests and values, not on which government’s ID they share.

Americans need to gyrate to an American-phyle and realize that entire swaths of the physical United States no longer welcome us.

I believe the sooner you start thinking that way, the freer, the richer, and the more secure you will become. You heard me correctly. Real Americans do not NEED the United States. The United States needs us.

The United States is populated with non-Americans

As long as we allow them to vote, and dictate their desires the United States will continue it’s downward spiral towards mediocrity. It is the duty of all Americans to either take control of this situation or leave it and protect our families before it is too late.

The United States is populated with non-Americans. Unless action is taken promptly there will no longer be any chance for recovery.
The United States is populated with non-Americans. Unless action is taken promptly there will no longer be any chance for recovery.

Conclusion

There are many lies that have developed over the years that have become accepted as given truths. They should not ever be considered a truth at all. As such, evil people have twisted these beliefs into something dangerous and are using these twisted narratives to control real Americans. Do not let them do this to you.

  • The United States is a geographical area.
  • It was initially set up as a Republic for like-minded Americans.
  • Americans place liberty and freedom first on their priority list.
  • Over the years the United States has changed.
  • Today, Americans are a minority in the United States

As such, Americans have two choices. They either can actively try to Change the Untied States back to be the home for Americans or leave for greener pastures. There are no other alternatives. There isn’t a middle ground, and sitting on the sidelines expecting an elected President to do it all on his own is lazy and unbecoming of an American.

Cat scratch lesson.
When dealing with things that are important to us, we sometimes need to make a statement; a point. Sometimes it is necessary to paddle an out-of-control child, imprison an out-of-control lunatic, and shoot a dog with rabies. Americans cannot wait until others take on this role.

I know what freedom is, and it is not what the Progressives want us to believe it is. A person who is free is never afraid.

A person who is FREE is never afraid.

Here’s a shout out for FREEDOM!

China has freedom and liberty.
Here is a shout out for real freedom. There is nothing better than living life on your own terms, and doing so without guilt or regret. That is what true and real freedom and liberty is all about.

Here’s to the freedom to speak your mind without fear! (Image Source.)

I will end with this final comment on the movie “Joe vs the Volcano”;

The film’s point is …” The point of the journey is to make thoughtful choices about how to live, and the volcano is life itself.

Preparing for death with “Joe vs the Volcano”.

Notes

The original title for this post was “Excuses that keep us enslaved.” Changed on 31DEC18.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link

Links about China

Business KTV
Dance Craze
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Fake Wine
Fat China
Chinese apartment houses

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Adventures of a 70’s Kid in an Army And Navy Store

When I was a youth, in the 1960’s and 1970’s, one of the biggest treats that my father would give us would be a trip to one of the nearby “Army and Navy” stores.

We would hop in the car, and then ride for a spell (depending on the direction) from a half an hour to an hour and a half drive. We would stop along the way to get a soft-serve cone at Dairy Queen, and then spend an hour or so in the store.

They all looked pretty much the same no matter where you went. The nearest ones to us, at that time, were in other towns. We would actually have to cross the country line to get to them. At that time, I frequented a store in Butler, Pa., and another one further up North in Erie, Pa.

I guess that they are a fading American cultural fixture today. They can still be found. However, they are mere shadows of what they used to be. Today, surplus stores can be found in strip malls in the rough part of town or as stand-alone warehouse-style buildings. In the later case, they might be a metal pole building with a huge “Army and Navy” sign in huge letters (often black on yellow) with corrugated metal roofing and very few windows.

Vintag aircraft
For a boy growing up, the world of the Army and Navy store was the first stop and a doorway to adventure. When we entered the building we encountered the world that we dreamed about. here were places with maps, treasures and tools. We loved going through the boxes and exploring the nooks and crannies of the store.

Of course, today they might not advertise themselves so openly. With all the politically correct nonsense, it makes sense to downplay your presence else an army of enraged “water buffalo” BLM females, or black clad SJW types might burn the establishment down.

Anyways, it’s true.

The Big Treat!

When I was a boy, one of the biggest treats that my father would provide for we was a trip to a “Army and Navy Store”. We would drive to the store and park on the street. A quarter would allow us to park the car for the entire day, so usually my father would just put a nickel in the parking meter. That would give us two hours of adventure. That was more than enough time for exploration.

Who knew what surprises awaited us?

Phone dialer.
Swiss army phone dialer. This was a portable unit, obviously. Don’t ask me how it worked as I haven’t a clue. We can only assume that it was used in conjunction with other gear of some type.

Today, there are still Army and Navy stores, and they still have the same layout and ambience.

When you walk in, your nose is met with that distinct army surplus smell: musty canvas mixed with metal and rubber. Flags hang from the ceiling — an American flag, flags from the different branches of the military, and of course a fine yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag. There was always a “Confederate” “American Stars and Bars” flag, as well as the mandatory black MIA flag.

There will be racks and racks of clothing. Mostly uniforms and coats. There will be bins of shoes and socks. Webbing and just brick-a-brack that defies description.

Radio Gear.
Who knows what discoveries that await you at an Army and Navy surplus store/ You can find anything from Vietnam era boots to radio sets fight out of a B-52. It’s all yours for a price. It’s a boyhood adventure.

The Army and Navy Store

Every conceivable space in the store is filled with product. You’ll see bins scattered throughout the floor filled with gas masks, canvas duffle bags, canteens, and nylon combat belts. The shelves are jam-packed with combat boots, cargo pants, and helmets. And the coat racks are stuffed with pea coats and camo as far as the eye can see.

You would find racks upon racks of military clothing. Then, tucked in every imaginable nook and cranny, were boxes of unsorted clothing. Some in disarray, as if they came from a flea market. Others, nicely folded, but never used, as if they came directly from a warehouse or factory inventory.

Near the door would always be a glass counter and a display of the more valuable items. Inside the glass case, you’re likely to find antique military items like Nazi paraphernalia, guns used during WWI, and a plethora of knives. I always liked the “trench knives” that had a built-in set of brass knuckles.

Texas Army and Navy Store
Sometimes the Army and Navy store would be alone in it’s own house, while at other times it would occupy a store front in a seedy section of town. These stores were always quite unique and special.

You could always find compasses, maps, various metals, and all sorts of smaller brick-a-brack in these counters. There also, would be some fine cigarette lighters. Some old. Some new. Many would have military sayings or logos, but Harley Davidson, and the Southern “stars and bars” were always present and popular.

For decades, the army-navy surplus store was the go-to place for individuals looking to find a good deal on products to outfit themselves for camping or hunting. It was the place prepare for the apocalypse on the cheap, or simply pick up a stylish pea coat at a bargain price. For me and my classmates, it was a place of adventure.

For there, we could outfit ourselves for our next big exploratory adventure. Who doesn’t remember how the explorer’s outfitted themselves in the movie “Journey to the Center of the Earth”? For us, the Army and Navy store was THE place to outfit ourselves for our next adventure.

While I don’t recall wheels and piles of hemp rope, they did have rope in smaller quantities. This would include nylon and various other woven types aptly suited for a Naval excursion on the high seas, or perhaps useful for constructing a tree-house ladder. You know, to keep the girls out of the “He Man Woman Haters Club”.

Journey to the center of the earth
Journey to the Center of the Earth (also called Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth) is a 1959 adventure film adapted by Charles Brackett from the novel of the same name by Jules Verne. Göteborg’s widow, Carla (Arlene Dahl), who initially believed Lindenbrook was trying to capitalize on the work of her deceased husband, learns the truth of his secrets from her husband’s diary. She provides the equipment and supplies Göteborg had gathered, including much sought after Ruhmkorff lamps, but only on condition that she go along. Lindenbrook grudgingly agrees, and the four explorers and the pet duck are soon journeying into the Earth.

With the United States fighting in just about every obscure nook and cranny of the world (for reasons unrelated to National Security… but that’s a discussion for another time) there was such a glut of military surplus clothing and gear that Army and Navy stores were everywhere. It almost seemed like you could practically throw a rock in any direction and hit an army surplus store. They were prolific and played a vital role in distributing an over-abundance of government-issued supplies that accumulated during the last ten or so wars.

Outfitters for War!

After World War Two, the extreme excess of government-issued equipment (produced by America’s “arsenal of democracy”) combined to explode the growth and popularity of surplus stores. Indeed, huge amounts of wartime leftovers flooded the market.

Crown Surplus
Army and Nay surplus stores were filled with all sorts of military gear. You could get everything there. It was a boyhood dream.

Thanks to the United States’ significant involvement in the Vietnam War, army surplus stores were able to restock their dwindling WWII inventory with updated military surplus. If you visited a surplus store as a kid in the 1980s or early ‘90s, a lot of the stuff you saw was probably from Vietnam.

I know that that was the case with what I experienced. There would be a mixture of World War II, Korean War, and Vietnam War gear. In addition there was often a mixture of foreign military gear. I was able to pick up an Africa Korps pith helmet from World War II, and a French paratroop jumper camo cape.

Desk
Here is a military surplus desk combo. It includes a chair, a desk writing surface and some fine drawers. All designed for easy transport and quick storage.

To many, the period from after WWII and until the early 1990s could be considered the “Golden Age of Army Surplus Stores.” There was just so much stuff available, and it was so widely dispersed and easily accessible to the public. Instead of ordering something from a catalog, you just had to drive a few miles to one of the many surplus stores in your city.

You could get just about anything there. My brother picked up a World War two Morse code kit in a green canvas carry bag. Who knows the stories that it could tell? Was it dropped behind enemy lines and used by the French resistance? Was it a training device for British Naval saboteurs? Was it used to communicate the successful retaking of the Philippines? Ah, such secrets…

Gear from an army and nacy store.
Typical selection of army and nay gear that you could get from a Army and Navy surplus store. One thing, you the reader probably don’t realize, is that these stores are common all over the world. They are available here in Communist China. You can get some great clothes dirt cheap, I’ll tell you what.

My good buddy ended up getting a trench shovel, and a flashlight that had a red lens cover on it. His younger brother picked up this set of dust google that looked like it belonged on the set of the “Rat Patrol” (a television show from the 1960’s). He wore them to the school, and for about a week he wore them every day (supposedly) in class until his teacher had to put his foot down and tell him enough was enough.

Tactical Parachute Shoulder Bag with Latch
Tactical Parachute Shoulder Bag with Latch. Have a fashion-minded daughter? Give her this and see what she might do with it.

Speaking of fashion…

The “Bell Bottom” fad in the late 1960’s came in being precisely due to the popularity of the navy flared (bell bottom) jeans available in the Army and Navy. This was also true for the “Pea Coat” fad that floated up and around in the middle 1970’s.

For the longest time I wore a pair of “aviator glasses that I picked up when I was twelve. My brother, not to be outdone, bought some yellow shooter’s glasses. He still has them. I still go visit the establishments to pick up some cargo pants and gloves with the fingers cut off.

Vintage Discoveries.
Who knows what vintage discoveries await the boy within the confines of an Army and Navy store. What is there? What elements of history awaits the boy who is ready for discovery?

Yeah. Army surplus stores still exist. You probably have one in your city. But it’s probably not the same kind of army surplus store you may have visited back when you were a kid. It might still have the smells and have the same kind of over all clutter, but something is missing…

If you’ve been to one recently, you likely noticed that fewer of the products they carried were actually “military surplus.” Sure, the stuff might look military-ish, but it was likely bought from a foreign company that manufactures military-ish products instead of from the U.S government, or even a foreign government.

German army shirt.
Here is a nice German army shirt. You can tell by the tiny flag on the sleeve as well as the camo pattern. You can find all sorts of military gear in today’s army and navy stores.

Other stuff…

You’ll also see product in the store that you probably wouldn’t consider “military surplus” like work pants and shirts, consumer camping gear, etc. In short, what I am trying to say is that in today’s army surplus stores there’s less army surplus.

Two big factors are contributing to the decline of true military surplus products in the marketplace. These were, or course, [1] the changing nature of war in the late 20th century and [2] the advent of online shopping.

Polish field telephone.
Polish field switchboard. It’s amazing what finds that be discovered when you venture forth into an Army and Navy surplus store.

While the United States is indeed busy fighting all over the world, how we do it has changed. (The US Military is currently fighting seven wars! Thanks to Barrack Obama.) No longer do we throw legions of troops in an engagement. Instead we use selection. We use skilled soldiers. We use drones.

Indeed, war has changed dramatically since Vietnam.

Instead of engaging in large-scale conflicts that require a draft with many millions of soldiers fighting on the ground, the U.S. military (in all branches) has shifted to a much more streamlined and surgical approach to battle — one that involves a smaller, well-trained, all-volunteer force.

Artillery graph planner
Whether you purchase American military surplus gear or foreign military surplus gear, the finds will certainly surprise. Who knows what little jewels can be found amoungst the clutter?

For example, there were over 10 million American soldiers who served in Vietnam, while only 2.5 million served in the most recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Because our most recent conflicts have required fewer soldiers, the military has required less equipment. Because the army requires less equipment, there’s less military surplus to go around to all the army surplus stores around the country.

But there are other reasons…

American police gear.
Companies that make military gear for the various alphabet agencies (IRS, CIA, FDA, FAA, ICE, DHS, etc…) supply Army and Navy stores as well. There, you can outfit your gear to include FBI tactical vests, light jackets emblazoned with the IRS logo, and all sorts of related gear.

That being said, 9-11 was a boon to the militarized police forces, and armed alphabet agencies. Now, every one from the NSA, FAA, FDA, IRS to the DHS and ICE require state of the art uniforms and gear. So while it might look like there as a dearth of “pure” military hardware, and a glut of cheap-Chinese knock-offs, that is just a reflection of the changing nature of the American government.

Today the emphasis is NOT on a large military force fighting in a far off land. Instead it is on a militarized collection of government agencies whose charter is on controlling the American population. It sounds harsh, but it is true. You just need to open up your eyes and take a gander. You can see this emphasis in the Surplus stores.

You can also read about how the United States government is busy stocking up on riot gear. You can read about it HERE.

Latest in military gear.
Much of the gear found in Army and navy stores are representative of urban police forces and crowd control. Obviously all black uniforms are suitable for either the Nazi SS and Gestapo, the American IRS or the DHS. When fighting in a military theater, the best uniforms possess a camouflage pattern.

Compounding the shortage due to smaller, more limited military engagements is that — thanks to the internet — army surplus stores now have to compete with the government itself in selling surplus military inventory.

The U.S. government has an online store where the public can buy military surplus direct, thus cutting out the army surplus middleman and saving the buyer some money. Thanks to competition from the government’s direct-to-consumer sales, army surplus store owners have had to slash retail markups on their products from a plump 100% to a smaller 30-50%.

Riot gear.
You can equip yourself and your loved ones with some pretty fine riot-gear. All you need to do is go to your friendly Army and Navy store and get some of their surplus population control gear. There are some great deals in batons, and protective padding.

The New World of Army and Navy Stores

Because of these two changes, the [1] streamlined wars and [2] the internet, the once robust army surplus store industry has taken a hit. There’s just less inventory to go around, and less money to be made in the business.

Bruce Willis
Who can forget the scene where Bruce Willis is in the Army and Navy store (or was it a pawn shop?) and decides to go after his tormentors. Ah, what a scene. As with the Kill Bill movie, the victor gets the truck (Pussy Wagon), or in this case the chopper.

To keep shelves stocked with military goods, even though there’s less government-issued military surplus available, stores have taken to importing military surplus “knockoff” products — stuff that looks like military surplus, but really isn’t. Instead it is equipment for urban riot control and police force use.

Some stores have shifted their focus from being military surplus dealers to antique military dealers. 20th-century military gear — once considered ordinary surplus — is now considered “vintage,” and collectors are willing to pay top dollar for these antiques. Army surplus stores that have been in business for awhile have used their networks developed over the years to become savvy peddlers of 20th-century military collectibles.

Never the less, if you’ve visited an army surplus store lately, you probably noticed they just aren’t what they used to be — that the quality and quantity of the selection of products isn’t the same.

But still…

These places are just fine for exploration and discovery. This is most especially true if you are a boy in your early teens. It’s an experience that all boys should be exposed to. (That and hardware stores, but that is a discussion for another time.)

Serbian Military Surplus Leather Magazine Pouches, 4 Pack, Used
Serbian Military Surplus Leather Magazine Pouches, 4 Pack, Used

These stores still exist, and the desire of boys to explore and go on adventures hasn’t at all diminished. I argue that we should feed this latent need of boys. As such, the exposure to an Army and Navy store is a must stop for all young Americans.

Conclusion

Time has a way of changing things. One of the treasures that existed when I was growing up was the presence of Army and Navy stores. I urge everyone to spend some time and enjoy a visit to one of the few remaining stores that exist in the United States. Who knows, maybe you can relive some forgotten boyhood dreams and share the experience with some close friends and relatives.

While today, I have little need for such items, I cannot help but be intrigued by them and coveting of many an odd item or two. I can’t help it. It’s the “pack rat” inside of me, not to mention the “Boy Scout” in me that screams “Be Prepared!” I am sure that one or two plastic mortar round cases might make a nice waterproof storage item for…

…things. I’ll find a use for them. You just wait and see.

Life & Happiness Related Index

Here is where you, the reader, can quickly go through key posts related to the things that make our lives complete. This is an index. I have arranged it so that the subjects can be easily searched for items of interest. Of which “happiness” is the dominant theme.  A tiny iconic representation of the article is provided along with a short, sweet summary. It is my hope that the reader find this of value.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

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Tomatos
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Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
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Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
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SJW
Playground Comparisons

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
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Link
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Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

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Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

What it was like Growing Up in 1960’s and 1970’s America

Here, I would like to relate a little about what it was like growing up as a boy in Pennsylvania. For, I am a native born American who lived through the 1960’s and through the 1970’s. I am pretty typical for my generation. The 1970’s was the decade of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford. It ended on a whimper with Jimmy Carter at the helm. Here we talk about the 1960’s and 1970’s and what it was like growing up at that time.

School

I attended elementary school. First I attended a private Catholic school in Connecticut, and then when my father was promoted we moved and I attended a public school in Western Pennsylvania.

Elementary school.
This picture is pretty typical. It is not of my school, but could have well have been. Our teachers were from the 1950’s and 1960’s, and in hindsight, certainly looked the part. Most everyone in my class where white. Our favorite television shows included the Brady Bunch and the Flintstones.

Allowance

Before I started work, I was permitted an allowance. My sisters both received an allowance with no strings attached. Mine was contingent upon my successful completion of my chores, and usually meant that I would get “paid” after I mowed the grass on Saturday (shoveled the drive in the Winter).

Mowing Grass
We had a push lawn mower. My job was to push it. We had apple trees in the back yard, and I would gleefully mow right over those suckers, making apples sauce of many of them. The hornets did love those apples, though. You had to mow quickly or suffer the consequences. Yikes! The picture depicts a boy and girl working on the lawn. Nice picture, but my sisters never helped with my chores. I was taught that they were the “weaker” sex, and that I was the one that had to work.

As a kid, my allowance of $1.00 per week was given to me every Saturday afternoon after the grass was successfully mowed. The hardest part was deciding how to spend it and get the very most out of every penny. Of course, a trip to the corner store for candy always figured into the picture!

One of my favorite treats was Dubble Bubble – a hard piece of pink bubble gum that included a tiny printed comic tucked between the gum and the outer wrapper, all for just a penny. I remember my first experience with inflation – the day when the cost of a piece of my beloved gum increased to 2¢.

Oh, the tragedy!

Another treat was Dixie Cups. These were little plastic containers of vanilla ice cream accompanied by a small, flat, wooden spoon. They had a flat circular cardboard lid that I would pull off and lick the inside top off. They were available at the local candy store (an old soda fountain that was re-purposed as a kind of local Quickie-mart) called Swede’s.  They were tiny – not more than a few bites, really – but we loved them.

Dixie Cups
I used to love eating Dixie cup ice cream. Here is an advertisement from the 1970’s.

The store was small. It had two counters. One, the main counter was were the 1950’s soda fountain was. It was all covered in canvas and unused. At least for maybe ten years. There was an old manual cash register there, and he sold cigarettes, and sundries there at the glass-topped counter.

On the other side was a long counter that resembled the kind of glass counters that you see today at butcher shops. There were shelves and shelves of candy there. We would go and point out this candy, and that candy. He would dutifully get then item, and put it in a small brown paper bag. Then he would carry it to the other counter and ring it up for us.

I will admit that the first thing that we did when we walked out the door was open up that little bag and start eating the candy inside. Heck, by the time we managed the walk home (from the store) most of the candy would be gone. Ha!

Toys & Sports

In the summer we would play softball on the side street (the traffic was really sparse in our town), and tackle football in any one of our many back yards. Basketball was also pretty popular, though I couldn’t dribble for the life of me. Sigh! We had a few class mates that had a hoop in their driveway. We would go there and play.

When I wasn’t playing sports, or “goofing off”, I liked to play “Spaceman” or “Army” with my other friends. I had a plastic “tommygun” that I would “shoot” the other kids with. We also had numerous toys that we would play with. Does anyone remember  Spirograph, Silly Putty, Etch-A-Sketch, Doodle Art, Lite-Brite, Tinkertoys, or Magic Slate? How about Sorry!, Battleship, Clue, or Payday?

I used to play with Clackers (Klackers), but they were banned because they broke your wrist. I also used to play with Jarts, but they were banned because some kids got hurt with them. I used to play with Slinky, but they never lasted more than a few days as we would eventually twist and turn them into unusable junk.

Klackers
Today you have fidget spinner gadgets, back in the 1970’s we had Clackers. We would go back and forth making such a racket with these bad boys. Not to mention using them to hit each other on the head with. Ouch!

Klackers came on the market in the late 60s and lasted into the early 70s.

They were constructed of two acrylic balls on a string with a ring or small handle in the middle.

The point was to get the two balls clicking against each other. If you got really good you could do fancy tricks with them, like build up momentum until they were hitting on the top and bottom in an arc . . . and make a hugely annoying racket.

Kids loved them and they became THE craze of the summer of 1971. But doctors and teachers weren’t so impressed after a frightening succession of serious Klacker accidents.

Unfortunately they allegedly had a nasty habit of shattering or exploding in a shrapnel-like shower and were promptly banned from every school in the western world – but kids all knew it was really a conspiracy from grown-ups because they hated the sound they made!

The similarity between this supremely popular toy and a South American hunting weapon called a bolo did not escape most teenage boys. In this capacity they proved extremely effective. After a nation outbreak of badly bruised arms and black eyes they were pretty much withdrawn from sale. – Nostalgia Central

Hair Styles

My mother sported large “bee hive” style hair, as did just about every mother. I was always trying to wear my hair long. You know, “Beatles” style. But, my father would have none of that.  As a result my middle school popularity had it’s highs and lows determined by whenever my father hauled me off to get a haircut. When my hair was long, and thus fashionable, I was popular. When my hair was short, and thus unfashionable, I was ignored.

A selection of hair styles from the 1970's.
A selection of hair styles from the 1970’s.

I once mentioned this to my uncle who made fun of me and my cousins. Saying that we (snort!) would only care if the girls thought we were cute or not. Well, at our age, it really was important.

In Pittsburgh, where there was a population of negro folk, the hair was in various types of “Afros”. These tended to look like huge balls. Some were quite enormous. I always thought that it was pretty cool to have. They liked to drive these HUGE cars, Lincolns or other high-end vehicles, and would take extra care not to mess up their hair as they went inside the car. LOL.

Bottle Collecting

My favorite thing to do when I was around eight or nine would be to go “bottle collecting”. Here I would go into the local “woods” to dig for “old bottles” (in long disused trash dumps, often 100 years old) that I would then clean and collect.

We had a couple of “dumps” that we frequented. One of the best, with the most impressive bottles, was near the river next to an old railroad spur. It was the home of many a “whittle marked” bottle, old time bitters, and about a hundred thousand Lydia Pinkham bottles. (I guess that the local woman folk must have had a lot of “womanly” problems.)

Our parents let us kids go out and play.

“I used to puzzle over a particular statistic that routinely comes up in articles about time use: even though women work vastly more hours now than they did in the 1970s, mothers—and fathers—of all income levels spend much more time with their children than they used to. 

This seemed impossible to me until recently, when I began to think about my own life.

My mother didn’t work all that much when I was younger, but she didn’t spend vast amounts of time with me, either. She didn’t arrange my playdates or drive me to swimming lessons or introduce me to cool music she liked. On weekdays after school she just expected me to show up for dinner; on weekends I barely saw her at all.

I, on the other hand, might easily spend every waking Saturday hour with one if not all three of my children, taking one to a soccer game, the second to a theater program, the third to a friend’s house, or just hanging out with them at home.

When my daughter was about 10, my husband suddenly realized that in her whole life, she had probably not spent more than 10 minutes unsupervised by an adult. Not 10 minutes in 10 years.”-The Overprotected Kid

As a kid, I would collect all kinds of junk. Not just bottles but all sorts of things.

Ah. My bedroom was a collection of old colorful bottles, scale models of tanks on shelves (and planes hanging from strings from the ceiling), as well as a quite a large collection of paperback books and comics. I had stacks and stacks of magazines. Magazines included “Lost Treasure magazine”, “Men’s Adventure”, “The Good Old Days”, “Mechanics Illustrated”,  “Popular Science”, “Popular Mechanics”, “Mad Magazine” and “Analog”. In fact, the upstairs bathroom had a closet, and the bottom two shelves were devoted to all sorts of magazines and comic books.

Money and Costs

Things were cheaper then.

In fact, most things could be paid for using coins.  If you ate at a restaurant, you would rarely need to use any bills.  Just a handful of coins (from a coin purse) was all you would need. Indeed, my father carried a coin purse and a money clip.  Wallets didn’t really become popular until the 1970’s. (When inflation had jacked up food prices to obscene levels.)

Slumber party
Another picture from my graduation year. This is a group of strangers, but they could have well been from my High School. The photo was taken in October of 1977. Mid October in Pennsylvania was a breath taking environment. All the trees were changing color and the weather was perfect.

Clothing

I wore bell-bottom slacks and (butterfly collar) polyester shirts in very 1970’s colors. I also had a couple of striped v-neck velour shirts. Every September, at the start of the new school year, my folks would troop us kids into the car and we would get new clothes for school. My mother wanted us to have the most fashionable clothes. My father, being very conservative, wanted traditional and practical clothing.

My sister wore “Gypsy” skirts (brown cheesecloth with crocheted lace at the bottom), Maxi skirts, those jeans with two front zippers, elephant bells, and had both hats and purses made out of recycled jeans. She was a big fan of Donny Osmond as well as David Cassidy and the Partridge family.

Spring 1975
Here is a more or less typical scene at a High School in the middle 1970’s. The only difference from this picture and my memories is that our school buses were yellow.

Polyester was the material of choice and bright colors were everywhere. Everyone in my class were wearing very tight fitting pants and platform shoes. By the time my senior year in High School rolled around in 1977, I was walking around I in a pair of rock-star high-heeled (side zip-up) stage boots.

Meanwhile, most of the girls wore these white high cut boots and low cut (hip hugger) pants. I did absolutely love the hip hugger jeans and the tight, tight, tight fit. This was, of course before the invention (or better yet) popularity of spandex.

High School GIrls.
Here is a photo of some High School girls taken in 1975. They are very typical. The photo was by their teacher who recorded school life during that time period.

By the time I graduated, in 1977, most of my teachers were sporting leisure suit and track suit attire. In pale greens, oranges and yellow flavors, of course. This fashion continued while I continued attending university.

I had a professor of the course “Man and the Natural Environment” who always wore the same light lime green leisure suit, day after day. It was a great class. We discussed how man is using up all the resources this planet has, and that unless we get control of our actions, a world-wide global cooling would result. Yikes! I, for one, did not want to spend my future life in the middle 1980’s inside a giant snow-cone. Burrrrr!

While the more “fashionable” and liberal professors were sporting trendy clothes, my Engineering Professors sported more traditional attire, with wide striped ties and polyester slacks.

Keg party
The movie “Dazed and confused” accurately depicted what life was for the class of 1977 at the end of the Junior year in 1976. The clothing, styles and behaviors were spot on accurate.

Sandals were starting to be popular. Though my father refused to allow us to wear them unless we wore them with socks. I was constantly belittled for this. As all of my socks were white. So at the first opportunity, I got my self a pair of “earth shoes” and didn’t look back.

A lot of men were sporting large sideburns. I tried to grow some, but it looked terrible on my 15 year old face.

Clothing styles
Fashion of the 1970’s. Here the girls wore a great variety of clothes from tight fitting jeans to long billowy dresses.

Mad Magazine

Perhaps one of the most notable aspects of my childhood was the Mad Magazines that I would collect. This was a satire magazine that I would absorb. It was filled with all kinds of articles, comics and things that would interest me (as a kid in the 1970’s). It contained things such as lick and glue stickers. 

Mad Magazine
Mad Magazine. This was a satire magazine that I would absorb. It was filled with all kinds of articles, comics and things that would interest me (as a kid in the 1970’s).

Who can forget the “Spy vs. Spy”, and the gap-toothed idiot mascot Alfred E. Neuman, who famously shrugs and asks “What—me worry?”

I was of the generation of pimply atomic-age readers, and yes they were almost all boys, as I recall, and we absolutely loved this magazine. We ate up everything this magazine put out. We lapped up the “Spicy Abridged Book Club,” with its highlighted editions of God’s Little Acre and Heidi alike.

We roared upon learning that Beetle Bailey wore his Ridgeway cap over his eyes to conceal GET OUT OF VIET NAM! scrawled on his forehead. And, being from Western Pennsylvania, we completely howled with laughter over “Some Really Dangerous Jobs for George Plimpton,” e.g., swimming Lake Erie, his body smothered not with grease but penicillin.  

Other Reads…

Depending on my age, I read voraciously. I would read everything from comic books to paperbacks, to magazines. My uncle gave me a huge stack of “Treasure Magazine” and his related collections of Argosy, True West, and Men’s Adventure.

I would sit there and read (for hours) about the discovery of buried treasures, found discoveries, and the history behind the lost treasures. Some stories concerned stagecoach robberies, other stories told about how Southern families would bury their family wealth to hide it from the Union troops during the Civil War. Yet, other stories would be concerned about how bankers would stealthfully steal gold from the locked vaults in their charge. Yet, not everything was about money.

Other stories concerned the discovery of guns and firearms found under a sagebrush, or the long discarded chest found in an attic or garage. My favorite stories were about the finds that a young kid such as myself would discover in a garage sale or antique store. This might vary from a lost ruby ring to a rare automobile worth millions.

Hiking in the Woods & Bikes

At that time in my life I spent a lot of time hiking in the woods. I would often ride my bike all over town and up and down the back roads and railroad spur lines. In the Spring the air would be fresh with the smells of lush forest canopy. In the Fall, it would be a time of warm “Indian Summers” with red and yellow leaves that would blow in the light breezes.

Old road in the woods.
We would hike and explore the woods all around us. Often we would use railroad tracks, but any road would do. We would often use the old logging access roads where possible, and an occasional abandoned road that was no longer used.

We rode day and night. And, no, we did not wear head-gear, arm pads, knee pads or sunscreen. We were wild and free. If there was a loose board, we would prop it it up and race on the board so that we and our bikes would fly off into the sky. If there were any parents or adults nearby they would stand there and nod approvingly.

That’s how we were. 

1970's bicycle
This style of bicycle was very popular with my generation. This is the “chopper” variant. Note the large rear tire, and the small front tire. Note the hand brakes, and the nice “monkey bar” handles.

I rode a gold Schwinn “banana seat” bike with “high bars” and a “drag strip” (non-tread) rear tire. Every one of my friends owned a bicycle. My sister had one with a white plastic basket in the front. My bike had these long streamers of plastic that plugged into the handles. I eventually tore those things off. But I would put a card (from a deck of cards) and attach it to the bicycle with a wooden clothes pin. That way my bicycle would make some “cool” sounds when I rode fast. It had a huge red circular red reflector on the back, right under the white “banana seat”. Like the GTO I would later drive when I was in High School, the bicycle was an orange color.

During the 1970s and 1960s all children rode bicycles. I had a banana seat bike that I rode.
We would all ride bicycles when we grew up. Which is different than kids today. Instead, today their parents drive them from event to event, instead of expecting them to get there on their own. A 1970s childhood. (Image Source)

My bike was a personal selection. When my father took me to a store to pick it out, I chose a really simple and rugged model. There were no front or rear brakes on the handlebars. To brake, you would just use the pedals. There also weren’t any gears. There was one gear only. It came with a rear view mirror, that soon broke off, and that was about it. My friends all had more complicated bicycles, and over the years, they were perpetually repairing their bikes and trying to fix them. For me, I never had that problem.

We would ride these bikes. Ride and ride them all day. If, in the event we did not have a canteen with us, we would stop and get a drink out of a nearby well or lawn hose.

It’s true, I often drank from a lawn hose in the summer when I was thirsty. It tasted like warm plastic.

If I was off away on a farm, or near a dirt road we would stop at a well and get a drink of spring water. At sometime in the 1960s all wells in Pennsylvania had to be covered up (so that no one would fall into them). Instead the placed these large iron hand-pumps (often painted red of green) that you could pump the water up and drink. The water was free to whomever needed it. Which is so unlike today where even common tap water is bottled by Walmart for a profit.

Loggin Roads.
All the hills around Pittsburgh, Pa. were mined for their coal, and iron ores. Additionally, the hills were treated as renewable resources and logged. Often, as a boy, I would ride the railroad tracks that would be used to transport coal up and down Western Pennsylvania. I would also hike and ride on the logging roads that existed all over Pennsylvania.

I was typical, and not a “bad boy” at all. When my friends started to smoke cigarettes, I refused. When I started to work, and was offered beer by the older boys, I drank and soon discovered that I was a “light weight” and numerous embarrassing events ensued. My friends chewed tobacco and often had a can of “chew” in the back pocket of their jeans (often creating a round circle of wear). I didn’t do this. 

Cub Scouts

I was a cub scout up until I entered my teenage years.  Every week we would attend meetings in the homes of one of the scout mothers (called “Den Mothers”), and they would help us work on our “badges”, and get ready for the various events.  These events included picnics, hikes, plays and social get togethers. 

We would proudly wear our uniform during parades, or on holidays like the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day.  We would salute the flag in school and lead the Pledge of Allegiance at school in the mornings. (Big change from today, when you have multi-millionaire NFL stars refusing to stand for the US Flag. I find it completely reprehensible and disgusting. But, then I am from the “old school”.)

One of the first things that I got when I joined the Cub Scouts was a blue uniform.  I well remember my mother teaching me how to put on my yellow scarf.  In addition, I got to have my very own hand axe.  It was a Rite of Passage for me.  Here at seven years old, I could carry a hand axe.  I was taught how to use it to cut trees, and how to throw it (just in case I might come across some desperate Indians…).

Boys all had hand axes when they were growing up. It was a part of being a boy in the 1960s and 1970s..
My first axe was given to me when I was a cub scout. I used it throughtout the 1960s and 1970s. I learned how to throw it, and how to use it. It was a rite of passage of all young boys. A boy’s first axe. (Image Source.)

While I went to elementary school in the 1960’s, it was my experiences during the 1970’s, which influenced my personality. Indeed, it is my feelings and experiences that reflect that period in time.

My Sister would Skip Rope

While I was doing all this, my sister would spend hours… and I do mean HOURS. Yes, hours, upon hours, upon HOURS were spent playing what Wikipedia calls Chinese jump rope but which my cohorts and I knew as Chinese skipping.

This was a game played mostly by girls – each of whom had their own set of elastics – though I do remember that every now and then some neighborhood boys might joining in on occasion.

Chinese skipping involved an elaborate set of routines and rules, some of which were made up as they went along (“tag, tag, no erasies!”). I could never figure out all the rules. Also, apparently the presence of “good elastics” (not too thick, not too thin, and just the right amount of tension) were highly coveted treasures.

Walking the Train Tracks

One of the big hobbies at that time was to follow the various spur-lines that snaked in and out of the hills. I grew up in the hills of Western Pennsylvania and there were rail lines all over the area to support the transport of iron, coal, and iron ore. Along each road was typically an access road.

Tunnel
We would often explore the surrounding countryside by riding our bikes or hiking in the woods. The easiest way to access the woods was to follow the train tracks.

The lines would typically follow the valleys and rivers of Western Pennsylvania. They would snake along the curves of the hills and dash in and out of tunnels that were cut in the many hillsides.

We would often place coins on the tracks and let the trains flatten them into a long oval.

Typically, we would hike with a branch that we had chopped using our trusty cub scout hatchet, or cut clean using our blue cub-scout knives. We would walk on the top of the rails and sometimes use the walking stick to support us. We’d kind of get attached to that hiking stick and bring it home with us. However, it was soon discarded and rarely used again.

Stand by me.
Scene from the movie “Stand by me”. It accurately depicted our boyhood adventures in the 1960’s and 1970’s. We would often explore the countryside by following the train tracks.

My one friend Dino always carried a boy scout canteen. It was a circular affair. It looked like two pie tins welded shut, with a black plastic cat at the top. It was typically draped over his shoulder and hung off his back. I, on the other hand, had a surplus World War II canteen. I got it at the local Army and Navy store. It was an aluminum canteen and it did leak. But it held a lot of water, and I certainly needed it. Drinking from the acid-laden streams wasn’t really an option.

Rail in Plum township
Rail line in Plum township near Pittsburgh in Western Pennsylvania. The rail lines all around my “stomping ground” looked much like this. The lines often followed the water.

Scale Models

One of my favorite hobbies was the building of plastic models. These were often of ships, airplanes and military hardware. I made a few models of cars, but my favorites were of military tanks and figurines.

I had a desk in my bedroom. It was an old desk inherited from my father with four drawers. I used a fold-up “card table” chair to sit at it with. On it was a 1940’s style desk lamp that my parents must have pulled out of the garbage at some time. I had books on the desk, a “multiband” radio where I could listen to FM radio, and a pencil holder made out of a decorated metal coffee cup tin.

At that desk, I would assemble, build and paint my models. It was an enjoyable pursuit. The desk faced the window in the bedroom, and I would often have the windows open, but the shade drawn down about half way. The shades were in the old 1960’s style and were meant to last. They had this kind of “life preserver” style ring hanging on a string that you could pull down to raise or lower the shade.

I needed the fresh air, as the odor from the glue was toxic and would tend to get me all flustered when I used it. I remember once, that my sister was watching her television show and they were really pushing the Rigley Chewing Gum-gum-gum… Rigley chewing gum-gum-gum commercial. It must have been running every ten minutes. I was about going out of my mind with the combination of the toxic glue odor and the subliminal programming of the chewing gum. Ugh!

The airplanes I would hang from the ceiling with string. I would display my collection of tanks and military equipment on shelves alongside my collection of centuries-old bottles. (I was an avoid junk collector and was always on the lookout for discarded bottles that I would collect from ancient trash dumps in the nearby forests.)

I collected Tamiya 1/35 scale military hardware models. I had quite a collection of German vehicles and tanks. At that time, the Japanese model maker Tamiya made the best quality models. They had an innovative introduction process that added new model to the collection every few months.

Tiger I
This is a model of the German Tiger I tank. I had numerous models of this massive beat in various scales. I even had one so complete that the interior was all detailed.

Alas, when I graduated from university I discovered that my mother had thrown away all of my models. She didn’t want all the clutter in the house. I guess one person’s treasure is another person’s trash.

Slang

Hanging out.
If you were fortunate you could get a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Mine always seemed to be at a different school district. Good thing…in hindsight. Here’s a groovy couple chillin’ out.

We used a lot of slang that has since become obsolete. The terms “groovy” was mostly used by kids only a few years older than us. As it was being phased out by the time I started to attend High School.

However, “Sock it to me”, and “You bet your sweet bippy! “, “
Verrry eenteresting… ” (both taken from the “Laugh-In” television show) and “My ding-a-ling” were all still pretty popular.

There was a tendency to say “you know” at the end of every sentence, and that just about drove my father off the wall.

Some examples are below…

  • Dig it – Means you really liked it. It was super groovy.
  • Groovy – Means very cool.
  • Cool – Means very nice.
  • Nice -Means very good.
  • Good – means “meh”.
  • Far Out – Means that you dig it and then some.
  • Outta Sight – Means that it was so far out that you couldn’t see it any more.
  • Zonked – Means that you are very tired.
  • Munchies – Means that you are very hungry.
  • Sock it to me! – Means give me some more.
  • Catch you on the flip side. – Means I will see you when I get back.
  • Bogart.‘Bogart’ meant to hold on to a joint too long without passing it– the origin comes from the actor, Humphrey Bogart, who had an iconic style of performing an entire scene with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip for an extraordinarily long time with ‘cool’ effect.
  • Bummer. – Something that is pretty bad.

There are loads of coolhttp://www.inthe70s.com/generated/terms.shtml slang from the 1970’s at THIS website. If you want to check them all out, please enjoy.

Goofing Around

It was a much simpler time. We were all permitted to spend time out of the house. In fact, it was expected. It was a rare person indeed that spent a lot of time at home with their parents. They not only encouraged us to “go out”, but expected it.

So, as a result, we ran a little loose and crazy. We did things that would give parents today heart-attacks, and would probably get people arrested. Those goofs in the movie “Dazed and Confused”, breaking mail boxes, or throwing bowling balls were all part and parcel of growing up. That’s how we rolled.

Goofing off
We were a very care free generation. We were not policed. We had a substantial amount of freedom compared with kids today. We just had fun, played around and got into trouble. That was what it was like.

I’d guess that it was pretty non-politically correct. However, we were just kids. We got into all sorts of trouble. Yet, it was just harmless fun. Today, things have ratcheted up to such a level that just being a white male can get you thrown in jail. Legions of BLM and SJW’s patrol the social media, and people are afraid to be themselves. I guess that is a progressive “paradise” for you.

Me, however, I just want to be left alone with my family. I want my cat on my lap and my dog by my side. I just want to eat my burger and drink my beer in peace.

Anyways… I am the direct result of my childhood. If you don’t like it, you can write a protest blog entry and post it up on Facebook so you and your metro-sexual friends can commiserate together.

Crusing in the truck
Scene from the movie “Dazed and confused”. This film took place in 1976 and described accurately the life in High School at that time. For I too, was a graduate of the class of 1977.

Our Idols

When I was younger, I followed the adventures of Man from Uncle, and watched Gilligan’s Island. As I got older, I started to find new interests in such role models as John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson. (Arnold Schwarzenegger did not become a movie personality until the 1980’s.)

Eventually, I started to get really interested in girls.

My bedroom was decorated as any boy of my my age would have. It was festooned with models and collections of brick-a-bract and posters on the wall.

I had a poster of Farah Faucett on my wall. She was smiling with this amazing smile, and her huge hair. We all had a crush on her. That as well as Loni Anderson and Rachael Welch . Look at her!

How can you not smile?

Farah Faucett was an attractive actress that was very popular in the 1970s.
Farah Faucett was every 1970s boy’s dream. Just about everyone had a poster of her on our wall or doors in our bedrooms. Farah Faucett was every boys’ dream. (Image Source.)

I had numerous posters on my wall. One was the mandatory “black light” poster on velvet. (It glowed under UV light.)

One was a picture of Richie Blackmore (Deep Purple) performing a guitar solo. (I had super imposed a F-14 on it for combined imagery. After all, space and high-performance aircraft and rock n’ roll was my dream.) I, at that time, was a big Robin Trower fan. I liked Traffic, Uriah Heep (come on! Someone must remember them) and Three-dog Night. Of course, Alice Cooper was the top star of my generation. The songs “18” and “School’s Out” ring a bell?

One was a Roger Dean poster (anyone remember the group “Yes”?).

Raquel Welch was a very popular 1960s and 1970s actress that made a big difference in the ideas of beauty and society during the 1960's and 1970's.
Raquel Welch was another popular actress that graced the bedrooms of many a boy during the 1960s and 1970s. (Image Source.)

Let’s not forget other television personalities. I had a real liking for Loni Anderson. She was the blonde haired secretary at the radio station WKRP in Cincinnati.

WKRP
WKRP

I became a fan of Loni Anderson in her role in the television sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati”. I think many of my friends did as well. We loved her and watching her on the show was always a highlight. That and the clueless manager who ran the office.

Loni Anderson
Loni Anderson played the role of the attractive secretary in the American sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati”.

The Cars

Eventually, I was able to drive. Oh baby, that was a turning point in my life, I’ll tell you what.

Bad Ass
This photo was taken in 1977 on High School property by Joseph Szabo. Obviously the guys had a special attachment to their cars.

This was at the age of 16. As such, I like many of my friends, would get a job. With a job came responsibilities and privileges. For instance, while the law said that I was too young to drink, my parents permitted me to do so. Because, once I obtained a job, I was a man.

Along with that benefit, I now obtained a paycheck. For me, along with many of my friends, took the paycheck and spent it on our car(s). (As well as a portion towards college, beer, and social-herbs…heh heh.) Ah, not to forget the gasoline for the car.

Gasoline prices were raising. It was so frustrating. While we were used to 25 cents for a gallon of gas, it soon climbed up to 30 cents, and then keep on raising. We were very upset about that. I well remember my father writing a letter to our Congressman to “do something” about it. (As if it would have made a difference.)

1970's car culture
My first car was a GTO. I spent all my money on it. My other friends had other vehicles. We would get tires, mufflers, carbs, and decorate the interior with shag carpeting, and a “kick ass” sound system.

Conclusion

This was just some stories about my life growing up. Unfortunately there are very few related stories on the internet. In contrast we can find all sorts of stories about the “hardships” of growing up in the 1960’s. We can read about the injustices against minorities, and about how the nation was broken and needed to move “left” to straighten it out.

It’s a comfortable narrative for the uneducated. However, it isn’t even remotely true. The true realty is something completely different. This is my story. Like it, or hate it. This is the way it was.

No, we didn’t wear helmets, and arm pads when we rode our bikes. yes, there were bruises and an occasional broken arm. Yes smoking was against the law if you were under 14 years old, but we did it anyways. We didn’t die from it, though many had to either quit or seek medical attention. It was our choice. We defined our life.

We defined our life. We did so on our terms. It was our bodies and our lives. We did not need someone to tell us how to behave or act. Though there were hawk nosed busybodies that tried. We made the decisions on our own lives. Not some elected overseer who told us what we could or could not do. And that, boys and girls , is the true lesson of this narrative.

Americans used to be free. It is in our nature. We deserve liberty and freedom. We are the generation that knows what freedom meant. Maybe, judging from the current state of affairs, the LAST generation that experienced it. And, this was our story.

Thank you.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.


Every Man Should Have a Roll-Top Desk

Here I would like to discuss a long standing dream that I have had since I was a small boy; the possession of a large roll-top desk complete with a multitude of tiny drawers, cubby-holes, and spaces for all my personal junk and treasures. I have had this dream for a long… long… long time.  With that in mind, let’s discuss this work of art; this magnificent idea and concept of the roll-top desk.

During the last century, the idea of a Roll-Top desk was appealing and very popular all over America. Many American homes had these styles of desks and throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s they faded into obscurity. There was a brief revival of Roll-Top desks in the 1980’s and then they have been forgotten as overly expensive and extravagant items of furniture. This is unfortunate, because every man should have a Roll-Top desk.

Roll top desk 8
Here’s a fine roll-top desk. It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. It’s a beautiful work of art.

The first time that I encountered a roll-top desk was a very long time ago. One of my friends had inherited it from his father. It was in his bedroom and he would work on his various projects at the desk. He had this kind of glue with a rubber top that you could use to spread glue on paper and make scrap books with .

"I believe that glue is called muslage; I don't see it for sale anymore. Really dates me, eh? if I know what *muslage* is. LOL"

-posted on 12/17/2018, 3:03:44 AM by Daffynition
Glue
During my childhood, we all used this kind of glue. My friend had it in his desk. We made posters with this. It was fun.

He also had a punching bag in his basement and we would try boxing. Ai! At such an early age! Heck! We were only in second grade, for goodness sakes. It was kinda goofy at the time, but our fathers both thought that boxing was something that all boys had to learn.

What is a Roll-Top Desk?

A roll-top desk is a large desk with drawers and a top compartment that possessed a rolling cover that could cover and lock the contents of the desk in place. This desk was made out of wood, with the vast majority of the wood being hardwood. Under the protected roll-top working area, there were all sorts of smaller drawers, and compartments for the user to store things in.

Roll-top-desk 1
Antique roll-top desk from the 1930’s. Instead of a modern reproduction, this desk sports small handled mini-drawers, pigeon holes, top, pencil drawers, and ledger spaces. Note the four drawers on both sides of the pedestal base, and the central desk drawer.

History of a Roll-Top Desk

The roll-top desk appeared just as the industrial revolution was getting started. At that time, small armies of clerks and office workers were needed to support the various duties of the factory. This included everything from managing inventor to handling the large number of workers at the factory.

The desk was designed in such a way that the top could be pulled down and protect the work from being disturbed. At that time, the office workers would be engaged in work that involved large numbers of papers and documentation. It was impractical to put every thing away at the end of the day and pull them out at the start of a new day. So the roll-top desk was invented.

Roll top desk 2
Here is another antique roll-top desk. Again, please pay attention to the mini drawers and pigeon hole compartments. The rolling cover and it’s path is clearly shown. What is not shown is the most excellent swivel chair that would go with the desk.

Further, there was a need for specialized compartments to hold various office stamps, pens and papers, and folders. This created the various styles that had miniature drawers, shelving, compartments and side pockets.

Drafting supplies.
A roll-top desk is the perfect place to store such things as drafting supplies. here is a nice set of drafting supplies that hadn’t made it’s way (yet) to the trash heap. With a roll-top desk, it could be stored safely and elegantly.

This item of furniture was the mainstay of the small or medium-sized office at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.

Roll-top desk 3
Antique Roll Top Desk made sometime between 1900 and 1950. I personally think that there is an over abundance of drawers in the desk. They are mostly all of the same size. However, different people have different needs. Aside from that, this desk has a leather mat writing surface, and some very small mini-drawers for keys and minor items. Note that this desk has sides that are on hinges. They can be swiveled out of the way for an unobstructed work area.

In the working industry, it eventually was phased out and replaced by more durable and cheaper (mass produced) steel desks.  Additionally, the idea for filing cabinets, and “flat files” came into being that would (firstly) augment the compartmentalized sections and ledgers of the roll-top desk, and secondly the determination that the roll-top desk did not fit in the modernized image of the state of the art 1930’s Art Deco decor.

These desks could often be found in various small offices, and homes throughout the 1970’s. Over time they were often left to fall apart and rot. Today they are generally rare, with some small-build reproductions floating around here and there. You can find them occasionally at antique dealers and in selected flea-markets. Aside from that, they have pretty much disappeared from the social scene.

Roll top desk 4
This antique roll-top desk has some nice compartments and nice style. It fits the grand criteria for a roll-top desk. I especially like the “mail box” slatted chubby-holes in the center.

Features

These desks had numerous features that made these desks very special. I personally believe that these features are often overlooked in our modern society – one that has an over reliance on cloud computing and storage.

important parts of a roll-top desk
While there are world-wide variations of this desk. Most roll-top desks are strictly American in design and function. Here we can see some of the important elements labeled and identified for the reader.

These features are;

  • Large, deep, and wide pedestal drawers, with compartment slats.
  • Pull-out “bread board” panels on both the left and right sides.
  • Wide and deep working area.
  • A selection of small “square” pigeon-hole areas.
  • Some desks would have small cabinets or closets (some with windows).
Desk drawer.
A man needs a drawer to place his little treasures in. He can store the things that matter to him, and the papers and documents that he must maintain.
  • A number of horizontal pigeon-holes for papers.
  • A number of vertical pigeon-holes for journals and log-books.
  • Small mini drawers, each with a metal knob and a slot for a label.
  • A slat for holding rulers, drafting triangles, or cardboard folders.
Desk drawer.
Here’s a nice vintage desk drawer. Notice that it has a movable tray compartment, and is made out of good solid hardwood. No fake plywood or particle-board construction here. Also note the beautiful grain of the wood and the overall appearance. Wonderful!
  • Medium size mini-drawers, often with a plain knob for pens, and miscellaneous tools. Sometimes lined with green felt backing.
  • The roll-top top, often made out of slats that can be locked in place for privacy and security.
  • A grand “middle drawer” that would have a wooden carved “tray” for pencils, erasers and paperclips and the like.
Details 2
Here are some details that can be found on various roll-top desks. I particularly like the leather mat writing surface, though many people simply would purchase a felt mat and place it on the surface. Note also the side pull-out “bread-board” feature. Often people would place lists of important phone numbers, addresses or codes on these boards, and pull them out when they needed to refer to something.

Accouterments

These desks would often be paired with this low swivel chair. Often with a cushion and wooden arm-rests. It would also be paired with a nice desk mat. Some desks had a leather writing surface, while many did not. In that case, a person would go to the hardware store and purchase their own writing mat.

Desk details 3
Here are some interesting details that can be found on certain roll-top desks. This includes compartments inside the writing surface and pencil trays in one or more of the main desk drawers.

The writing mat was often leather with a felt surface. The most popular was green. A “banker’s” lamp, with a green shade, and a brass base was also often employed. Though, Tiffany lamps, and lamps with cast designer bases were often employed.

Swivel chair for a roll-top desk.
Here is a fine vintage oak wood office chair. It is on a swivel base and has wheels to move around in. Note that it has a small leather cushion, though many chairs did not have this feature. It’s a fine chair just about made for ta roll-top desk.

Material

Early roll-top desks were built of heavy woods such as black walnut, and small local companies might choose from a variety of local hardwoods. There are many hardwoods that were used.

Roll-top desk 6
This roll-top desk has a working and writing surface that can be pulled out and makes for a larger working area. Notice the top of the desk as well. It can support lamps and even a shallow cabinet or bookcase.

Most popular toward the end of the 19th century, close-grained oak was often quarter-sawn, or cut to promote a particularly even grain, reducing the possibility of warping and increasing durability.

Wood for a roll-top desk.
At one time, these desks were made with care and concern for the overall appearance of the desk. Wood was selected carefully and cut with care and precision. the end result was a work of art.

Mahogany, teak and cherry also appear in old desks, but from 1900 on, most desks were oak. A desk made from cherry after 1900, for example, would have been a special order or the work of a local craftsman.

Lamp
Here is an antique “Banker’s lamp” with a Tiffany Art Deco inspired shade (instead of the traditional green glass shade). It’s certainly beautiful.

Why a Man Should Have a Roll-Top Desk

I well remember the exact moment when I fell in love with roll-top desks. My father needed to get or renew his insurance for the car. This was in the late 1960’s. At that time we had a Buick Electra. And, we were trading it in for a 1966 Lincoln Continental.

1966 Lincoln Continental
Man! I sure wish that I had this car today. I’ll tell you what. This is a 1966 Lincoln Continental. It was black with a black interior. (So hot in the Summer.) But we loved that car.

So he went over to the local insurance agent in the town. We lived in a small town at the time, and he was a friend of a friend. So dad went into his office. It was a cluttered office next to a tire dealership.

We walked in. There was centuries of dust and clutter there. Inside was this amazingly enormous man. He was built like an elephant and existed there in a state of decay and confusion. He seemed to blend in with all the clutter, piles of paper, stacks of dusty junk, dusty Venetian blinds, and the ancient Art Deco fan that was providing the much needed air flow in that tiny cramped and cluttered office.

He sat there smoking a cigar, with a largish (green plastic) AM radio playing a baseball game in the background. Next to him was a cigarette stand. You know the type, it was a metal pedestal with a handle and a large glass tray in the center. The ash tray was filed with the ashes of many a well smoked cigar.

He sat at this enormous roll-top desk, and offered me a “Orange Crush”. When I said “sure”, he flipped me a quarter and told me that there was a pop machine around the corner…

Roll top desk 5
There is a certain beauty in a roll-top desk. It is a place where a man can put his stuff. As a boy, I enjoyed the idea of a place where I could put my stuff and collectables at. At that time, I had a a small wooden cigar box that I held my “treasures”. But an entire desk…now that would be awesome.

In his office was a roll-top desk. This was not just any roll-top desk. It was enormous. I am not at all exaggerating. I haven’t seen anything like it since. This desk was easily the size of our dining table. Not only that, but that tiny office had two of them. They dominated the room, and on them was the clutter of years.

I just sat there amazed. I just looked at the amazing array of cubby-holes and mini-drawers. I loved that desk. I just sat there and soaked it all in. I listened to the baseball game and sipped on my soda.

The meeting lasted maybe two hours. My father signed some papers and then we left. On the way out, I asked my father if we could have a desk like that. He just chucked.

Office supplies
A roll-top desk is the ideal place to store your much needed desk supplies and paperwork. Instead of all the clutter, it can be positioned within easy reach for the user of the roll-top desk.

“Why do you want such a broken down piece of junk?” he asked. I just shrugged.

We walked to the car and then went and got an ice cream. But, while I never mentioned it again to my father, secretly inside, I always wanted to have my own roll-top desk.

Much later…

I was in Ridgecrest, California. I was in training at the China Lake Naval Weapons Center for my MAJestic role. At that time, I was living on Dolphin Avenue, in a small housing development. My neighbor, who also worked on the base as a contractor, just happened to have a roll-top desk that his girlfriend bought him.

I loved that thing. Sure, it was a reproduction. And, it was not a full-size desk. But, it still was pretty darn cool.

I think that the reason why I have always liked the idea of a roll-top desk was the idea that it had spaces and compartments for all my stuff. I would, over the years collect junk, papers, writings and bits of flotsam that had meaning to me, but would eventually get lost in the detritus of the house. Probably eventually collecting in dusty boxes in remote corners of the garage. Sigh.

But, if I had a roll-top desk… well, now it’s a whole new ball-game. I could store my prized fishing lures in one place, and my precious treasures in other spaces. Of course… being much older, my desk might look a little bit like this rather than my boy-hood dream ever was…

moden man's needs
As a man get’s older his tastes change. I lost many of my boyhood treasures over time. Now my needs and passions are much simpler. So, yes, I probably don’t NEED this kind of desk. yet, wouldn’t it be grand to have it to keep some prized whiskey or smokes?

Conclusion

A personally think that having a big roll-top desk would be awesome. It would be a place for my brick-a-brack and clutter.  I can well imagine a selection of pens and pencils in the various drawers, and indexed compartments full of my various treasures. I could some of my few remaining baseball cards, and my small collection of bottle openers. Not to mention a fine jewelers loupe and electricians scissors. With them I could place my small nine inch metal rule, and a few calipers.

What ever. All men need a place to keep their personal junk and a roll-top desk fits the bill quite nicely.

Free Republic Posting

This article was published on Free Republic on 16DEC18. The posting and the comments can be found HERE.

"I have one of these steelcase desks that I got from a VA hospital that was dumping them. I love this thing but my wife hates it. In a nuclear detonation or earthquake you could hide under it."

- Posted on 12/16/2018, 10:24:53 PM by outofsalt
Nuclear desk
Nuclear proof roll-top desk.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.





A Wish List of Favorite Firearms

Ah… Guns. As an American, I have a distinct interest in firearms. After all, what’s the point in having a Right given to you by God if you don’t exercise it? Here, I’d like to share my thoughts on some of my dream weapons; my favorite firearms. No, I’m not talking about a “Phased plasma rifle in the 40-watt range” that the Terminator was looking for. But rather some firearms that I have wanted for some time, but regrettably will probably never purchase.

So here’s my dream / wish list.

MP-40

Let me start with one of my long time yearnings…

MP40
The MP 40 (Maschinenpistole 40). As a boy this weapon featured predominantly in all the “War Movies” of the 1960’s

The MP 40 (Maschinenpistole 40) was a submachine gun chambered for the 9×19mm Parabellum cartridge. It was developed in Nazi Germany and used extensively by the Axis powers during the Second World War.

As I was growing up, all of the many, many war movies had actors fighting the Germans who utilized this weapon. They would burst into the room, spraying lead back and forth, back and forth, and the evil Nazi warriors would crumple to the ground. Yikes.

Hero might need to save a beautiful girl.
A hero might be needed to save a beautiful girl. Often at the hands of evil Nazi villains. OK, this guy is not using a Schmeisser. He is using a “tommy gun”. But you can get the general idea, eh?

The MP-40 was designed in 1938 by Heinrich Vollmer with inspiration from its predecessor the MP 38. It was heavily used by German infantrymen (particularly platoon and squad leaders), and by paratroopers, on all of the fronts of World War II.

Its advanced and modern features made it a favorite among soldiers and popular in countries from various parts of the world after the war.

It was often erroneously called “Schmeisser” by the Allies, although Hugo Schmeisser was not involved in the design or production of the weapon. From 1940 to 1945, an estimated 1.1 million were produced by Erma Werke.

MP-40 closeup
Closeup of the MP-40, showing off the fine lines and blued steel.

Now, I have read somewhere that there was a short limited edition manufacturing run of this weapon sometime in the 1990’s. I also understand that it was chambered in 10mm as well as 9mm calibers. However, I am at a loss as to the circumstances behind this model, or where you can get it. I sure would like to know more about it.

Comment from schurmann…

Small numbers of replica MP-40s were turned out before May 1986: modern-made receiver and original parts kits. Trade jargon for these: “tube guns.”

Further internet sleuthing found this…

Sport Systeme Dittrich in Germany is a manufacturer of a remarkably wide range of reproduction German World War Two small arms (including the FG42, StG-44, G43, MP-3008, MP-35, and VG1-5 as well as the MP-38). 

They have a mixed reputation, as they are magnificently accurate looking reproductions, but the Sturmgewehr in particular suffered from a great deal of parts breakage and reliability problems (in the US, these were imported as the PTR-44 many years ago).

Sport-Systeme Dittrich Kulmbach
Some of the product offerings from Sport-Systeme Dittrich Kulmbach.

For collectors and shooters in the United States, this is generally a moot point, because the Dittrich reproductions are too accurate mechanically to be allowable for import. 

The BD-38 semiauto copy of the MP-38, for instance, is an open-bolt carbine, which is deemed easily convertible to fully automatic under US law (a similar conclusion was reached by the RCMP in Canada).

-Forgotten Weapons

And, another interesting comment from schurmann…

"The first photo purported to be an MP-40 shows an arm missing its folding stock, but the stock is present (folded) in the second image. There have been some latter-day semi-only replicas made without stocks, so they can be “pistols” in compliance with US regulations. 

Despite what one sees in films and on TV, the gun was rarely fired with its stock folded; as an open-bolt submachine gun, its accuracy was never great, and users needed every advantage they could get. 

While we’re addressing film/TV use, it must be stressed that movie guns seem to fire at almost twice the rate of a real MP-40, or perhaps it’s mere sound effects. The actual gun fired only about 450 rds/minute: “chug-chug” more than “rat-a-tat.”"

Regarding the MP40 comments…

Hollywood movies usually (not always, just usually) liked to portray the users of the MP-40 firing “at the hip”, spraying the room (and evil grinning Nazi warriors) indiscriminately. I would imagine that it would have been a terrible waste of bullets. How could you possibly hit anything without sighting your target first?

FG-42

Speaking of fine German weapons, one of my “Dark Horse” dream weapons is the FG-42. This is an interesting design and a very fine weapon. What attracts me to this weapon is the ability to utilize both box and belt feeds.

FG-42
A continued love of German weaponry extends the the relatively unknown FG-42. This was sort of like an early Steiner, in that it could be both box and belt fed.

The FG 42 (German: Fallschirmjägergewehr 42, “paratrooper rifle 42”) is a selective-fire automatic rifle produced in Nazi Germany during World War II.

The weapon was developed specifically for the use of the Fallschirmjäger airborne infantry in 1942. Like the airborne infantry, it was used in very limited numbers.

FG42
Here is the FG-42 in operation. Look at that impressive action. Here it is being held without using the bipod.

It combined the characteristics and firepower of a light machine gun in a lightweight form. It was equipped with a bipedal stand, and was small. It was no larger than the standard-issue Kar 98k bolt-action rifle.

It is considered one of the most advanced weapon designs of World War II. In fact, the FG 42 influenced post-war small arms development. As a result, most of its design was copied by the US Army when they developed the M60 machine gun.

FG-42 and MP-44
Here is a nice photo of the FG42 along with a German MP-44. I too, would like to have a go with the MP-44. I would imagine that it would be like firing a AK-47. But that is just speculation on my part.

Of course, I would love to fire an MP-44. But these are really rare firearms and the ammo is not exactly common. I once saw a MP-44 on display in a museum when I was around 15 years old. I was amazed that it was so large. For some reason, I thought that it would be a little more compact.

Comment on the MP-44 from schurmann…

The MP-44 is indeed astonishingly weighty, and disappointingly unhandy to boot. Recoil is terrible: difficult to believe about such a tiny round fired from such a big gun. There have been recent production runs of ammunition, catering to the collector community.

Back to the FG-42. Here’s a FG-42 with a box magazine…

FG-42 with a box magazine.
Shooting a FG-42 using the box magazine.

"metallicman had better hire a more-experienced technical editor before posting anything further, on this topic (though to judge by some earlier posts of his, he may be immune to embarrassment, and facts.)

FG-42 used box magazines only, never belts. 

It did fire from a closed bolt on semi, and from an open bolt on full auto. The latter is common on air-cooled full-auto arms, to facilitate cooling, and to keep the ammunition out of contact with a hot barrel."

-schurmann

To which, I must retort. This is my personal views on guns I like as a hobbyist. I am not an expert.

Now, with that being said…

Please note that the FG 42 belt fed that I know of is the Light Automatic Machine Gun T44. And that seems to have had a side feeding mechanism similar to the prototype belt fed Kalashnikov. In this case, the Johnson belt fed seems to have a bottom closing mechanism. This would be much like the mechanism used in the HK 21.

Belt-fed FG-42
Belt Fed German FG-42. Never fielded in action, as far as I know of.

It must have been something as the FG42 eventually evolved into the M60 belt-fed LMG. As such the prototype M60 LMG’s were derived from the FG42.

T44
Prototype M60 derived from the FG42 with minor modification. Known as the T44. The belt mechanism was from the MG42.

Additionally, it is my understanding, faulted as it probably is, that the box and feeding mechanisms can be loaded from either the left or the right sides.

Note that the reader was correct. The German army fielded FG-42 was box fed. The belt-fed version was a prototype that eventually became the M60 LMG. History aside, this is an interesting little weapon, and I would not mind firing it.

Fabrique Nationale FN P90

Being a fan of weapons, and my love of science fiction, I was introduced to the P90 through television. Or more precisely the Stargate SG-1 television series. LOL. No kidding, but it is really true.

Though, I am sure that the weapons displayed were all prop replicas, it certainly piqued my interest.

P90
I was introduced to the P90, the same was as I was introduced to the MP40; through television and movies.

The Fabrique Nationale FN P90 is a Belgian-originated “Personal Defense Weapon”. It’s sort of a cross between a submachine gun (SMG) and an assault rifle.

Apparently, the gun was originally developed to arm indirect auxiliary combat units such as vehicle crews, messengers and clerk-type elements outside of active fighting zones.

The P90 is arranged as a “bullpup” assault weapon where the action and magazine feed are concentrated aft of the trigger unit. This allows a full-length barrel to be used with a more compact package. The result of this mating is a fixed, slightly oversized stock with integrated pistol grip and carrying handle.

The P90 supports use of a sound suppressor and this can be coupled with subsonic ammunition for reduced-noise operation. This is a particularly useful feature for clandestine operatives. The weapon also features select-firing through single-shot and full-automatic fire. The including rail system can adapt a variety of optics and aimers as needed.

high-velocity 5.7x28mm cartridge
high-velocity 5.7x28mm cartridge

The P90 is engineered to fire the specialized, high-velocity 5.7x28mm cartridge (SS190 Ball). These cartridges certainly maintain a unique look when placed alongside 9mm and 5.56mm types.

Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (Kurz)

Now, what “red blooded” American man doesn’t want a “popper” when the going gets tough? It’s only slightly larger than a pistol, but packs the punch of a machine-pistol.

Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (Kurz)
Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (Kurz)

The Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (“K” = “Kurz” meaning “short”) was developed to specifically meet the needs of special forces, and law enforcement. The basic idea was to provide a compact and concealable firearm with a proven action and capable man-stopping qualities.

The German concern therefore developed the MP5K from its full-sized submachine gun; the ubiquitous HK MP5 series.

Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (Kurz)
Heckler & Koch HK MP5K (Kurz) with accessories to include silencer, extra magazine and sight.. Though all that cool “stuff” takes away from the advantages of small size and portability.

Steyr MP34

Getting back to my love of fine German weapons. Consider the Steyr MP34. A long-time old friend of mine had inherited one from his father. I think that he picked it out of a mail order catalog back in the 1960’s. It’s a nice and fine little machinegun.

It was great until he had a fight with his ex-wife and lost all of his firearms when she carted them out and dumped them in the middle of the street. When the police were called, they collected the weapons and wouldn’t give them back to him. So sad.

Anyways…

 Steyr MP34
Steyr MP34

The history behind this gen is very interesting.

Restrictions in the 1919 Treaty of Versailles precluded the Germans from developing man-portable automatic weapons. Specifically, German martial firearms could not possess a barrel longer than 4 inches or a magazine capacity of more than eight rounds. This pretty much restricted the Germans of the Weimar Republic to P08 Parabellum pistols and little else.

Eager to expand the state of the art while perhaps preparing for the coming next World War, Rheinmetall acquired the Swiss Solothurn weapons factory in 1929 and began developing the S1-100, which would later become the MP34.

Although ill-suited for mass production, Solothurn did a crack job of developing and prototyping the gun. The MP34 is heavy, but its mass means the gun is remarkably controllable. It’s pretty easy to keep the gun on target even during long bursts of fire. Firing single shots, the gun remains delightfully accurate out to the effective range of the 9mm Parabellum cartridge.

Let’s talk pistols…

The Taurus Judge

Here is a great little revolver that can fire shotgun shells. Imagine that! The Taurus Judge is a unique revolver which can fire either a .45 Long Colt cartridge, or a .410 shotgun shell.

Taurus Judge
Taurus Judge

Loading birdshot in the Taurus Judge might be an acceptable choice for a self defense load. However I think these situations are indeed pretty limited. Birdshot lacks the ability to penetrate deeply enough to reach an attacker’s vital organs, which is the only reliable way of stopping the attacker before it is too late.

I have read that the 2 or 3 00 Buckshot pellets which would fit in a .410 shotgun shell, when fired out of the relatively short barrel of the Taurus Judge, will simply not penetrate the way that 00 Buckshot from a “normal” shotgun would.

Shotgun shells for defense
The firearm blog says that you shouldn’t use shotgun shells for defense.

I do not know what would be the better load for self defense purposes. The .45 long would have better penetration power, but in a panic high-stress situation, the .410 shotgun might be a better selection.

Ruger 22/45 Lite Pistol

Ruger .22
Here is a nice Ruger .22 with a laser sight and silencer. This is a perfect starter pistol that also has some nice practical uses as well.

I first came across this little beauty while I was looking for “gun porn” on Pinterest. A little sleuthing enabled me to identify it as a Ruger 22/45 Lite. Here we see it with a nice silencer, light, and sights. I would buy this beauty in a heartbeat. A great article on this pistol can be found HERE.

The 444 Marlin

This is a dream gun of mine. I had a few co-workers that told me that this little beast really was able to cut through the brush. I believe them, as this is a pretty substantial round.

444 marlin
The 444 Marlin rifle. What a beauty. I’ll tell you what.

Colt M-16A4

When I lived in California I had a collapsible stock AK that I used to cart with me and shoot in the desert. One day, I was introduced to an ArmaLite AR-15 and fell in love with it. It still remains on my wish list.

Historically, when this rifle was first fielded in Vietnam it kept on malfunctioning because it needed more maintenance than the M-14 that the soldiers were used to using. Over the years, training and improved design has resulted in a nice fine little weapon.

Gunny Highway.
Gunny Highway is an ideal that has elements that all men should strive towards. Sometimes the fiction that we see can lead us into behavior ideals that we can adopt as our own.

Beretta Px4 Storm Compact 9mm Pistol

For the need for everyday carry. Nothing beats a well manufactured subcompact that is easy to shoot, and fits the hand well.

Nice pistol
Find a gun that fits the palm of the hand well. This is especially true for the females in your family. Let them practice with it. Practice over an over until they are lethal with it.

The PX4 Storm SubCompact is among the smallest hi-capacity 9mm and .40 S&W polymer framed handguns in the world with 13+1 and 10+1 capacity. By using a polymer frame (like the Glock), the Px4 becomes one of the most manageable subcompact 9mm and .40 S&W pistols on the market.

It is adaptable to right- and left-handed users, has three interchangeable backstraps, a reversible magazine release button and an ambidextrous manual safety lever/decocker positioned on both sides of the slide. In the “safe” position, these also present additional gripping surface for drawing the very short side to the rear.

Walter P99

I always loved this pistol. My father thought that it looked ugly, but my brother, and our best friends all had this pistol and practiced relentlessly using it.

I do miss this little guy. I owned this gun for a spell when I was still living in the Untied States. It handled very well, and I was quite lethal with it. Photo is of the 380 not the 9mm version that I had.

Walter PK 380
Walter pistols allow for different sized hand grips to allow for small hands. Here is a .38 caliber version. I used to have a 9mm version that I was very partial for when I lived in the States.

Of course the pistol is chambered for different cartridges. I know that it is chambered for the 9mm, the 10mm, the .380, and the .22 cartridges.

P99
P99 chambered in the 9mm. A very nice pistol that fits the hand well and that is easy to shoot with accurately.

ZH-05

Now, of course I’m very old-fashioned. I tend to be interested in weapons around 75 years old. But, you know, I like to keep up with the times. As such, there are some really spectacular designs out there.

Here in China, everyone (who loves firearms, that is) has been talking about the new ZH-05.

China has fielding its troops with the new ZH-05. It’s an interesting weapon that combines a 5.56mm assault rife with a computer controlled 20mm grenade launcher (with a max range of 700 meters).

ZH-05
The American and South Korean weapons both have a magazine for the computer controlled grenades while the ZH-05 is a single shot weapon, requiring 20mm rounds to be loaded manually each time. This makes the ZH-05 the lightest of the three weapons, weighing five kg (11 pounds) loaded (with a single 20mm round and a magazine with 20 rounds of 5.8mm ammo).

The ZH-05 has been seen with Chinese marines sent abroad warships working with the Somali anti-piracy patrol. Chinese special operations troops have the ZH-05 and the army ordered several thousand of them so that each four man infantry fire-team will have one.

That puts China ahead of the other two countries (United States and South Korea) with similar weapons. The Chinese version is lighter, simpler and cheaper. Obviously, the Chinese feel the ZH-05 is worth buying and issuing to the troops.

The U.S. began working on this type of weapon back in the 1990s as the OICW (Objective Individual Combat Weapon) and that mutated into the XM25 (the “X” in XM25 designates a system that is still in development). The South Korean design is the K11. The three weapons are different in important ways.

The American and South Korean weapons both have a magazine for the computer controlled grenades while the ZH-05 is a single shot weapon. Thus much cheaper, easier to maintain, and easier to field.

Links

The Chinese weapons industry is an interesting one. They supply weapons around the world, and also manufacture for the Russian military. I would certainly like to get my hands on some of these beauts and have a go at them.

Conclusion

This is just a fun post chatting about my love for firearms. For a while, I actually worked as an engineer designing weapons, and thus it is both a professional and hobby interest of mine.

As I live in China, I don’t have the opportunity to shoot like I used to. I have to go to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand or Burma to go do my shooting.

The only consolation to this is that I can shoot fully automatic weapons, and many weapons not commonly available in the United States. Which really sucks, as the United States is supposed to be the bastion of freedom.

Maybe, one day, the Progressive left will be defeated by the Conservatives, and some semblance of freedom would start to undo over one hundred years of progressive meddling in the Constitution. One day.

But, I’m not gonna hold my breath. The conservative leadership in America are all dying out, and their current leadership is corrupted and weak. The strongest leader they had was traitor John McCain. Who wasn’t even a conservative, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing; a RINO.

Asshole

Perhaps Trump might turn things around. However, he is a lone voice in government. He can’t do it all on his own, but that is exactly what it looks like is going on. Each time he trys to do something, a liberal judge reverses it. He says “Hello” and a liberal assault team tries to get him for perjury. It’s simply ridiculous.

I’ll tell you what, if things do not turn around soon, and quickly, there will be a nasty regime change in America. And it will be the progressive communists driving the armored vehicles, and conservatives scattering like rabbits with a handful of  hunting rifles.

DHS vehicle
The DHS is well armed with military grade vehicles, and armor. They are trained to fight on American soil. The Obama administration has been setting up the stages for an armed conflict of Americans against Americans.

Sad. So sad.

Take Aways

  • This is simply a post that describes my interests.
  • It concerns firearms; the RIGHT that I have as an American, to own.
  • They are on my dream (or bucket) list simply because ownership is restricted, access is difficult, or they are too expensive for my budget to afford.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 21NOV18.

Adventures Exploring the Cemeteries of Indiana

When I lived in Indiana, one of the things that I did was to visit every park in the state.  I went and bought a book showing all 25 state parks.  Then, my wife and I went and visited every one of them. When we were finished, we then went to the local library.  We looked at a large map of the county and then visited every cemetery in the county.

It was an “eye opener” and very informative.

Let’s talk about this experience

Many of the cemeteries were in isolated areas. We would get to ride on little used back roads that trundled through the rows of soybeans or corn. Then the road would dead end into a tiny space of greenery that typically consisted of some rare trees, a stream or two and some small out-buildings. The park would be lonely and often deserted.

While the grass would be tended to, it was mostly a three week to a one month mowing cycle and tended to be rather lush.  There wasn’t any kind of landscaping, or care for the weeds and plants that existed besides the tombstones. The headstones themselves were often old, tilted and leaning at precarious angles.

Barrett
Barrett Cemetery in Indian is typical. It is a small isolated location that often has trees growing in and around the tombstones. No one is there, and few visit it. Is is quiet and isolated and lonely.

We would walk into the park and explore the headstones. Many dated over a hundred years ago. Obviously the settlers had a hard life. People died early. Many died before they hit their mid thirties. Many families had nearby rows of tombstones with the names of children that wouldn’t live past three or four years of age. It was sad.

Sometimes we would find a family that would have maybe twelve or thirteen children’s graves. Each one would hold a child that would be from one years old to four who had died. The mother, often would not make it past forty.  Can you just imagine that life? Can you imagine the life that they must had had? Every year, getting pregnant. Having a baby, and every year, or every other year, having one of your children die. It must have been horrific and really debilitating.

Obviously the hard life, the harsh weather, the Indians and the illnesses took a toll. To survive they needed something. They needed God and spiritual guidance. I just cannot see how they would be able to keep on living without it.

The Tombstones

While many of the tombstones were simple (weather worn) sandstone affair, there might be one or two large edifices. Sometimes these would be out of stone, but often they would be cast out of zinc and looked to be in good condition. The zinc would be aged to a dark dull grey. These monuments looked good. They really did, with fine and crisp lines and decent appearance.

The stones, on the other hand, were worn pretty severely.  Often you couldn’t make out the words on the stones. Sometimes you couldn’t even make out the shape of the stones themselves.

Those headstones made out of cast concrete tended to be in pretty good shape. They aged, but it was just dirty old concrete. Sometimes green moss would form on the folds in the cast headstone. However, aside from that, they looked pretty good.

Tree style tombstones
It is very common to find headstones that look like trees. These do not typically seem to be carved out of stone. Instead, they appear to be cast out of concrete. It is a mystery to me as to what the limbs signified. This picture is typical and shows some moss and stains on the tombstone.

One of the common theme was large stone tombstones that resembled trees, with many limbs cut off. It is an interesting curiosity. One that I have yet to understand. I guess that for a time, it must have been a kind of fad. They date mostly to 1880s to 1920s, and are pretty unique.

"The elaborately carved limestone markers were popular in the late 1800s through the 1920s, when they fell out of favor due to their expense, and contain symbols that speak volumes if you know what they're saying."

Clasped hands, if the sleeves are masculine and feminine, denote marriage, for example. Ferns are a symbol of frankness or humility; ivy can symbolize fidelity; and wheat represents the divine harvest.

Many of the symbols have dual religious and secular meanings, but in both cases they eternally memorialize the deceased's ideals and philosophies..."

-Tree shaped tombstones let the dead speak

I always found this an interesting consideration to ponder. I would go up to these tombstones and see different aspects of each one. One would just be a simple stump, like a tree that was wholly cut down. While others would represent a tree standing, but with broken limbs, sawed off limbs, and limbs mangled and distorted. The meaning of this was always a mystery to me.

"...many variations: the vertical stump, the double vertical stump, the horizontal stump, the ledger tree stump, the tree-stump bench, the tree-stump chair, the tree-stump cross, the simple tree-stump base. They could be decorated with birds, books, firearms, flowers, plants, anchors, or animals, along with the signs of fraternal orders, from unions to the Elks to the Freemasons.'

-Susanne Ridlen, in her 1999 book Tree-Stump Tombstones.

Meshingomesia
Meshingomesia. A Miami Indian cemetery in Grant Country Indiana. It is quite typical for the cemeteries in Indiana. It is isolated, quiet and lonely.

We would look at the names on the stones, the one’s that we could read, that is. We would walk around the stones, and explore the nearby wooded area. As many of the few trees in North and Central Indiana were found only at the cemeteries. The rest of the land was wholly devoted to flat fields to grow crops.

Sometimes the cemeteries are completely overgrown. Here, huge trees would grow out of the remaining tombstones, and unless you looked and searched for the site, you would never be able to find it.

Sadly, a number of the cemeteries were converted to trash dumps by inconsiderate neighbors. The trees in the areas of the cemeteries that have become overgrown, became disused. Often, the groundskeeper would only mow or care for the “front” or visible portion of the cemetery and the rest would be permitted to lapse and revert to nature. Others, often uncaring, would dump trash there. Things such as old refrigerators, 1960’s era baby strollers and old interior doors with the round brass or stone knobs would be found piled in heaps at the one end of the cemetery.

Curiosities

When a person would die and be buried, often the relatives would plant a tree, or a shrub near the grave. The thing is that these shrubs would be permitted to grow. What is often considered a small shrub, after a hundred years, becomes a worthwhile tree. These trees are magnificent and something that you will not see in or around any suburb because the tree takes far too long to mature. Heck, it’s worth while just to go out and check out these magnificent tree-shrubs alone.

Another thing that is curious is the presence of ancient and aged plastic flowers. Sure they might have looked nice in 1970 when they were first placed on the grave, however time and decades have changed them into something else entirely different. Now they look like faded dirty plastic trash. Things that should have been discard along with smiling clown paintings, and vacuum tube AM band radios.

Where Built

Sometimes the cemeteries were built around an Indian mound. These mounds were part of the previous inhabitants of the area; “The Mound Builders”. We would climb up on the mounds and survey the surrounding flatness. These mounds were huge and often had very steep sides. Most were excavated in the past, and often European settlers were buried inside the mound with tilted tombstones remaining on the sides like broken teeth.

Ball Hill.
Ball Hill cemetery located in Indiana. Sometimes the cemeteries were located on a hill. Indian is mostly flat, except in the southern section. Thus hills were a rare occurrence. The places were quiet and peaceful.

The Mysterious Blank Cemeteries

Many of these cemeteries were well mowed, perhaps once or twice a week.  Aside from the groundskeepers, no one ever apparently visited these parks.  Many did not seem to have any headstones.

It wasn’t that the headstones were set flat to the earth. No. The headstones were missing all together completely. What was supposed to be a cemetery listed int he country map in the library seemed to be just a simple lawn of grass located in the middle of ample farmland.

They ended up looking like a flat space of a lawn at the edge of the rows of corn. Sometimes with a old fence around it. However, there were no headstones at all. This was a mystery, that is, until we went to the edge of the cemetery lot.

O'neal
O’Neall cemetery in Indiana. Where are all the headstones? Why such great and wide lawns? If you go to the edge of the cemetery, near the tree line you will find a ditch. Look in the ditch. All the tombstones are there.

There, we would find many of the headstones randomly tossed into a ditch nearby. Apparently, over the years, the groundskeepers just pulled the headstones out to make it easier to mow the lawns. If a tree fell down, they would just remove the tree. It was too inconvenient to mow around it. They did not care.

They did not care.

No one checked on their work. So they would cut down the trees. They would remove the bushes, and then toss the headstones into a ditch or gully at the edge of the cemetery. No one noticed. No one cared. All that mattered is that the lowly paid groundskeeper had an easy job keeping the grass cut.

Which was, typically a young couple. Either doing so as a favor for the church, or being paid to do so by either a church or the country. Rarely would we ever see an “expert” groundskeeper maintaining these cemeteries. Oh, they do exist. Especially in the larger city cemeteries. I know, my uncle was one. However, in the smaller, rural cemeteries it was another story entirely. It was almost as if taking care of the cemeteries were an afterthought.

Bethel cemetery
Bethel cemetery. Located in Richland Township in Steuben county Indiana. It is typical with trees on one end of the cemetery, but a total absence of trees near the tombstones so that the groundskeeper could mow the ground easily and simply.

There was no need for trees, bushes, shrubs or flowering plants. Any trees or plants grew in the ditches at the edge of the field, or alongside difficult to mow areas in the cemetery plots.

A Little History

Around a hundred and fifty years ago, people would go to the cemeteries to have “outings” and picnics. As such, they were maintained with visitors in mind.  People would go to the local cemetery, layout a blanket, and eat cold cuts and maybe a pie and enjoy the day.

Massachusetts and the rest of New England lead the nation in this pastime.

In fact, I do urge the reader to go to their local libraries and look this long forgotten pastime up. I myself did not know about it until I visited the Milford, MA library and looked into the local cemeteries there.

Anyways, Indiana was founded by hardworking Germanic people, who rather frowned on leisure, and it is no wonder that the secondary use of cemeteries in Indiana was ignored and forgotten. The people had a hard, tough life to live. They needed to focus. Over the years, their children became very pragmatic and concentrated on the things that mattered, and care for cemeteries and parks just simply became an afterthought.

Which, in my mind, is a real shame.

Ah. Indiana, what is going on with youse guys?

We are transient. Our physical existence is short lived. Make the most of it.  Be the best that you can be.  Enjoy life, and the people who surround you. For one day, they too will be gone.

Irish round tower

About this picture. It’s a cemetery in Milford Massachusetts. It is a beautiful cemetery, and right next to the Wendy’s restaurant there.

Father Patrick Cuddihy came to Milford, MA in 1857 to head the St. Mary of the Assumption church. He directed the construction of a traditional Irish round tower to be built on church property in 1895. Now, these towers had been built in Ireland to help monks escape Vikings and other invaders. They were, for a time very popular and extremely useful. When the village or town was attacked, they would run to the tower and hide inside. They were accessed by ladders that were pulled up to prevent penetration by others.

Since then, the tower has become a landmark, and people come to the cemetery to chill out, rest during lunch and picnic there. The cemetery is well maintained, with enormous, big and beautiful trees. It has wonderful Massachusetts stones, and perfect areas of greenery.

While people drive their cars out to the cemetery for lunch today, it was once far more common a thing for people to participate in.

During the 19th century, and especially around the turn of the century, snacking in cemeteries happened all over the United States. It wasn’t just apple-munching either. It was something else entirely. People would bring blankets and quilts to sit upon. they would carry baskets with cooked pies, baked chicken and sides of coleslaw. They would bring bottles of beer.

They would hang out. Listen to the birds. Play catch with a baseball, or maybe try to fly a kite. It was a place where you could go that was within nature and safe.

Since many municipalities lacked proper recreational areas, many people had full-blown picnics in their local cemeteries. The tombstone-laden fields were the closest things, then, to modern-day public parks. Instead of picnic tables, the families and couples would lay out a blanket on the grass beside a tombstone and enjoy a peaceful outing under the shady trees.

One of the reasons why eating in cemeteries become a “fad,” was that epidemics were raging across the country. The reader must understand that diseases such as Yellow fever and cholera flourished. Often, children passed away before turning 10. Women died during childbirth. Death was a constant visitor for many families, and in cemeteries, people could “talk” and break bread with family and friends, both living and (figuratively) the deceased.

An outing
People used to go to cemeteries to have quiet and peaceful outings together. They would have picnics on blankets and enjoy each others company. The cemeteries were well maintained, shady, with nice lawns of grass, fragrant flowers and nice pathways.

Conclusions

Cemeteries can teach us a lot about human nature and society. All we need to do is listen.

In the past, prior to investment in state parks and recreational facilities, cemeteries were used as local places to rest and relax. People enjoyed going out and relaxing in the shade of trees, enjoying the breeze and listening to the birds. Their homes, prior to air conditioning, were hot affairs, and people would hang out on the large porches and rest on “gliders” that would sway under the eves.

Many smaller cemeteries are treated as afterthoughts. They are maintained cheaply and are viewed as a necessary labor that needs to be maintained, rather than an important part of society and culture.

Take Aways

  • Exploring your county can be achieved by visiting all the cemeteries in it.
  • To see where they are, go to the local library and look at the map there. It will list all of the cemeteries in your county.

Map
A map of your county will list all the cemeteries in it. The most comprehensive maps are found in the libraries in the county. Here, the cemeteries are highlighted in red. Map is a map of a random county.

  • For us to appreciate where we are heading in the future, we need to have an appreciation of our past. A cemetery is a first step in this adventure.
  • Cemeteries are not scary fear-filled places, but a soft place of rest and contentment.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 30OCT18
  2. Completed 31OCT18.
  3. SEO review 31OCT18.
  4. Published 31OCT18.

The Most Important Things That a Man Looks for in a Woman

All over the internet you can see advice on what a woman looks for in a man, and what a man looks for in a woman. There are many such articles. Most are subjective and have cultural, regional and ethnic biases.  Here is what I, as an American man looks for in a woman regardless as to what her race is, what culture she is from, and her age….

Please kindly note that this post has multiple embedded videos. It is important to view them. If they fail to load, all you need to do is to reload your browser.

Introduction

When I was younger I didn’t really know what to look for in a woman. My ideas of beauty and relationships came from popular movies, television and the magazines of the time.

In fact, my uncles made fun of my first girlfriend because she was so very thin and petite. They told me “she’s too thin. Trust me, you want a girl with meat on her bones…“.  I didn’t believe them then, but I can totally see the point that they were  trying to make. Their wives (my aunties) were all hourglass-shaped with impressive chests.

My father told me once “Look at the girls mother to see what she will be like when she gets older”. Again, I had no clue what he was talking about. Now… well, let’s say that I fully understand the point that he was trying to make. No, it’s not a direct correlation, but there is a genetic component that cannot be ignored.

The List

Over the years I have learned and experienced various things. This has led me to come up with a few conclusions about relationships. Especially my own. When a man, such as myself, thinks about a woman we look at  number of key features. These features are important. In fact they are critically important.
 
  1. Appearance
  2. Sex
  3. Domestic Concern
  4. Companionship
  5. Personality
  6. Self Confidence
  7. Respect
  8. Family Devotion
  9. Spirituality
  10. Shared Values

Of course, there are many other factors that we could include here. But, this is not intended to be an exhaustive study, or some kind of PC narrative. Let’s consider what I, myself, look for in women. This is my list. The things in it are absolutely critical.  You take one item out from that list, and there will be no relationship. Period.

But, I’m not other people. So if you want to generate your own list and criteria for comparisons, go straight ahead. I’m not going to stop you. This is my list, and these are my comparisons…

[1] A Woman’s Appearance

A man looks for a woman that he is physically attracted to.

Is this a truth or what? I have read some websites on the internet, obviously from a woman’s perspective, and they don’t even list appearance as a criteria. Yet it is perhaps the most important, and the most common NO MATTER WHERE YOU LIVE. Girls in Zambia Africa will get all dressed up and perfect, as will women in Communist China.

All over the world, women have bodies that scream “look at me”.

Zambian wedding.
Here is a traditional Zambian wedding. Look at how beautiful everyone is. Don’t you just love it? So amazing! Look at those smiles. Look at how they take care of their appearance and the happy attitude.

Appearance is the first thing that a man looks for in a woman. This might sound so trivial in today’s modern progressive narrative, but it is a biologically proven fact. So, if you still want to believe in fantasies, Peter Rabbit, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus, you can leave.

Sorry, but it has to be said. The good news is, every man is attracted to a different type of woman and has his own personal tastes. Meaning, I am in no way suggesting a woman has to fit a certain image of ‘beauty’ in order to be considered ‘wife material.’ 

But, as is true for both men and women, there needs to be a physical attraction between two partners to kick off a relationship, which also plays an important part in holding it together.

-The Good Man Project

We men want a woman who we are attracted to.

Attraction has to do with a combination of [1] physical shape, [2] physical appearance, [3] personal grooming, and [4] behavior.

I have seen women who have “rockin’” bodies, who dress like trailer-park trash, and were a total turn off. I have seen women who look good and yet sound like a foul-mouthed sailor when they speak. I have seen women who didn’t know how to walk in high heels and went clunk-clunk-clunk as they walked down the street. Yuck!

Joy
The character “Joy” in the television series “My Name is Earl” is a good example of a beautiful girl who is not attractive. I am sure that in person, as an actress, she is really nice. But the person who she plays is rude, brash, unmannered and uncouth. It is not attractive.

This might be surprising, but us guys really like to look at women. I really don’t know why.

It’s not a sexual thing. Oh, I suppose that some assholes like to make cat-calls and holler at the ladies, but for the most of us we are just content to watch the girls come and go. In fact, if the restaurant has a lot of women inside, I am drawn to eating there. It’s a male quirk I guess.

That being said, some things often minor things can really detract from a woman’s appearance. For instance, I have seen beautiful women, who walked and carry themselves well, wearing black high heel shoes with the red under-sole. Only to have a big white price tag sticker on the bottom.

Instead of watching her, and the way she walks, you end up focusing on that stupid price tag on the bottom of her shoe. Talk about distraction away from the image form!

Label on shoe
Ladies please keep this in mind. Please take the labels off the clothes when you buy them. It’s terribly distracting. You see a beautiful woman walking down the road with nice dress, beautiful legs and all you can focus on is the white price tag on the bottom of the shoe. Ugh!

Remember, appearance is more than just physical shape. It is also about grooming and attitude. Here’s a Chinese girl dressed in a simple dress. She is clean and well-groomed. Her hair is clean.  Her overall appearance is positive and nice. Who wouldn’t want to be with her?

I am not talking about it in a sexual way either. I am saying that she seems so nice. I would just love to take her to a coffee house and share a cheese cake with her. She would be nice to stroll along the boardwalk with. Wouldn’t you like to play in a casino with her? Come on!

In general, men and women are about the same in this regards. A woman wants a man that takes care of his appearance. She wants him to be well groomed, clean, and neat. She wants him to be tidy; to wear clean clothes and have good manners.

I think both men and women are the same in this regard.

Men are the same. We look for a woman that also takes care of their appearance. We like the women in our lives to be well-groomed, clean and tidy. Look at this beauty. Man! What a kind smile. She looks right at you and that mouth is so sweet. What is not to love?

Beautiful
Here is a beautiful American girl. Look at that smile. Look at that amazing body. What a stunner! I tell you what! She has a nice figure, and is clean and well attired. She isn’t wearing a lot of makeup or jewelry.  Her attractiveness is her sweetness.

Now, let it be well known that there are a wide range of American female body styles that I personally find quite alluring. This includes tall leggy women, to short chubby cuties. I think that many would be amazed at the things that they do, act, dress, or look like that I find amazingly attractive.

So I am not going to bad-mouth any of the particularly awesome women that live in America. I tell you the truth, there are some American women that think that they aren’t that good looking, that I would die to be with. For instance…

When I lived in Boston, there was a 30-something woman who worked in a brick-a-brack store in Brookline.  

She was very curvy, and maybe wore a size 18. She had shaved her hair really short, and wore really red lipstick. Not my type. Yet, I had such the hots for her. OMG! Every-time I tried to talk with her, I would get so flustered. She hadn't a clue how mesmerized I was for her.

It is sort of like how a woman who looks at my shoulders (and arms) and wonders how nice it would be to rest their head there and be held. I too look at women in this way. However, I think more in terms of having my head resting on their chest softly, and their fingers in my hair.

Men and women are more similar than we will admit to in public.

Beautiful ebony girl.
Look at this awesome beauty! Look at that amazing head of hair! Look at the tiny waist and hour-glass shape. Man! She must have all the guys chasing after her. Now pay attention. What an amazing smile. I’ll tell you what, the smile opens up my heart.

All this being said, I don’t like to be with a girl that is heavier than I am. It’s a personal preference. I also am not really attracted to a woman who is taller than I am either. I don’t know why, it just doesn’t do anything for me. We all have likes and dislikes. Mine are strong, please do not be offended;

  • I don’t like to be with a woman that is heavier than I am.
  • I am uncomfortable with a woman that is taller than I am.
  • I also am a little skiddish about polydactylism. It’s not that I am revolted if the girl has seven fingers on each hand, but I’m a little freaked out about it.

I feel like this is similar to a woman that doesn’t want a man that is shorter than she is. Or that doesn’t want a man with a bald spot on the top of his head. Or, maybe a man that has a big scraggly beard that is full of crumbs and such. Or, maybe a man that chews chewing tobacco.

Men and women, we all have our preferences.

[2] Having Sex

Honestly, you have to be a fucking moron not to realize that men want sex.

Heck, it’s more that just that. We need it. It is genetically programmed into males and become the focus of everything that we do. From what career we enter, to what cars we drive, to how much money we make. The driving force behind it all is getting sex. Smart women understand this.

Twitter quote
Well, that is what we are genetically programmed for. Women are genetically programmed to have babies and to take care of them. This comment, found on Twitter, illustrates how silly some people can be about basic gender roles. It shows their ignorance. It shows that they will forever be destined to live alone or find a beta male to mate with. Sad. Sad. Sad.

Any man who says that he doesn’t need, like or want sex, is either lying or homosexual. It is never the truth because sexual needs, and preferences are genetically encoded by the male chromosome. If you do not understand this, study biology 101.

What? You think that the woman’s “biological clock” is imaginary? It’s a well-known fact of life that transcends society and national boundaries.

Men and males have the same thing. Except is is called “the need to reproduce”.

Pepe le Pew
The Loony Tunes character “Pepe Le Pew” is based on the raw instincts that all males have. When we were children and watched the cartoons we knew instinctively what what going on. Yet today in the SJW saturated American culture, we are supposed to ignore the basic facts of life and accept a reality of non-genders. Nonsense!

This is how it works. Once we find an attractive woman that raises our interest, the very next thing we wonder about is having sex with her.

That is the way it is, and no SJW rewriting of culture is going to change the biology of males. In a way we are just like dogs and are led about by our “pecker” all the time. Smart women know this. Smarter women use it, and profit from it in numerous ways.

Slime Porn
Different people have different things that get them aroused sexually. I like to believe that most men prefer the female body in it’s various forms and shapes. Sometimes they like, in my view, some rather strange manifestations in interest.

Online porn is not a multi-billion industry for nothing.

Prostitution still exists because men are men, no matter how hard society, religion and zealots try to stamp it out. Men are males with fundamental male interests and needs.

Sex in the car
The sexual desires that men have vary from individual to individual. Some men really love oral sex, others are “meh”. Some men must have anal sex, while other go “yech!”. Every man is different.

That being said, sex is an individual experience. What might be fantastic for one fellow, might be terribly boring for another. That is why there are fetishes.

Some men like big boobs, others like big asses, and still others like big feet. Some men are mesmerized by a nice set of legs, while others like strange and unusual sexual positions. And yes, some men really like huge women, and others like small tiny ladies. Everyone is different.

Friendzone
Now, isn’t this the saddest expression that you have ever seen? A man NEEDS sex. If he is married, he expects sex from his wife, and when he decides to marry her, it was an expectation that he had. For her to be so ignorant of his needs, and so very selfish about their relationship shows that he needs to leave her ASAP.

It doesn’t JUST vary from person to person, but from culture to culture.

Oh, and by the way, women like sex just as much as men do. It’s just cultural in how it manifests. For example, here is a cartoon discussing relationships between and man and woman in Thailand. LOL.

Thai love
The initiation of sex and relationships vary from culture to culture. In Thailand, for example, the relationships tend to be different than that of the United States. This is true for most of Asia.

[3] Domestic Care & Concern

Here is where I sound like an old foggy-head man. However, a woman who is control of her home, tends to be in control of her life.

A woman who is in control of her home is in control of her life.

When I see that she takes care of her clothes, makes sure that the house is well run, ordered and that she knows how to cook, I start to get really interested in her. You see, in my mind, a woman who is in control of her life, would also be able to take control of my life as well.

Men will give their LIFE, their MONEY, and their very BEING to a woman deserving of it.

I once went on a date with a woman. She was nice, and attractive. To get ready for the date, I of course was presentable and clean, and I made sure that the car was washed and detailed. I picked her up. I then opened the door for her and buckled her in. (This was America, I'd never do it in China.) And we went off.

During the drive she pulled out some chewing gum and was chewing it. You know, for a pleasant tasting mouth. But, you know, she did something disturbing to me. She threw the chewing gum wrapper on my nice newly cleaned floor...

Later, after dinner, she couldn't find her lipstick, and emptied her purse on the table, and had to sort through old scraps of paper, receipts and brick-a-bract. The date ended, and we went our separate ways. 

We had fun, but I never wanted to be back with her again. You know, she probably doesn't understand why.

Men need a companion that they can turn to, rely upon, and have a family with. This means responsibility. We need a good strong willed woman without baggage and problems. Seriously, isn’t that what women look for also?

Now, of course, most modern and "liberated" women don't think like this in the Untied States. They are "independent". They can get and have their own careers, and live their own lives. Sure they can. And, be childless and unmarried into their 40's. 

The cost of being a "liberated" American female is quite steep.

It is not reality.

It is an artificially constructed narrative to seduce people into certain set behaviors. If you want to see what works for couples, then look at how families are set up in Africa. Look at how families are run in Poland. Look at how families exist in China. Five thousand years of experience won’t lie.

Pleasantville.
The 1998 movie pleasantville depicted a sort of revisionist narrative of what might happen if a modern person were to step back into time and life life as it used to be in the 1960’s. Contrary to the popular narrative, there is nothing wrong with traditional marriage and a man giving everything to his wife. In return, the wife becomes domestic and cares for him, their children, their home and their finances. She makes sure that the man can work, be relaxed and strive to improve their life. That is the traditional method, and that is what many men search for.

A traditional life WORKS. Most men WANT a traditional long-term relationship. They will give everything for it.

I fear many men, especially those afraid "to make the leap" in marriage are not convinced or ready to allow a woman to take over part or all of his life.

For a man, this is a BIG commitment.

He is not only letting the woman into his life, but he is giving her access forever to all that he earns. He is allowing her to dictate and instruct him on behavior, dress, and recreation. If the man is truly in love, and if he believes that this woman can take on that domestic role; she will GET EVERYTHING he can offer.

Roles
A man who gives everything to his wife will never leave her. For she literally BECOMES everything to him. So, have you ever wondered why divorce was so rare prior to the 1970’s? Divorce became commonplace when traditional roles fell from popularity. So ladies, if you want a man that will be YOURS… forever and would never abandon you, then you should make a reappraisal of your value system. You won’t get it on a progressive ideology. You will ONLY get it with a Conservative Traditional ideology.

When a man gets married, he should be ready to share his life. This often means letting your wife take over portions of it so you no longer have to. A good, and strong, woman will be able to manage the home. If she can manage the home, she can help the man become a success.

We have a saying that goes something a little like this; “Behind every successful man is a strong woman.”

As I get older, I see how true this is. My friends who are all very successful, all have strong and well-organized wives. They all also have relinquished some things to the wife in exchange for her domestic support. This includes [1] all of the finances. [2] What he eats. [3] How he dresses. [4] His exercises, and [5] how they relate to family matters.

Family Meal

Oh, and please forget that nonsense Hollywood narrative of what a traditional conservative woman is. (Where a traditional woman wears Amish style hats, and lives a life right out of the “The Handmaids Tale”.) That is propaganda. Do you, yes YOU, personally know anyone that is really like this? You don’t. That’s my point. It is an artificial narrative. It’s all Bull Shit.

Today, a conservative wife might have a body covered in tattoos, ear and nose rings and purple hair.  She will wear leggings, take selfies on the smart-phone, and have multiple university degrees. My Lord, it isn’t about appearances. It’s about what is inside.

via GIPHY

That is true. It is about what is inside. It is the light that resides inside the woman’s body that that special man can see and can appreciate. yes it is. It is all about the energy that lies inside…

Chinese women, as well as African, Polish, Russian, and Indian women don’t sit around watching the boob-tube, or play games on the cell-phone all day long. They do what ever is necessary to make THEIR household a success.

  • The manage the fiances.
  • They budget the household.
  • They allocate resources to jointly improve their standard of living.
  • They make sure everyone is eating well and healthy.
  • They are a model for their community and familial relations.
  • They make sure that the husband has everything he needs.
  • They push and help the husband grow as a provider.
  • They instruct the husband on how to behave, and act.
  • They make sure that the husband is presentable and carries himself well.

While they do occasionally play games, take selfies and have fun, their primary role is as a family manager. Traditional women are like full-on lionesses.

Over the years, in America, this has become treated like some kind of joke on contemporary television, on collage campuses, and in female magazines. That is a real shame. Because when both the husband and the wife work together for their family anything is possible. I tell you the truth. This is a fact. All of my friends that are successful work hand-in-hand with their wives in this manner.

Their wives take care of them.

They (the wives) set the pace, they control the family fiances. They establish the diet. They determine where to live. They set the goals. They establish the direction. The man in turn, give his everything to his wife in the complete 100% loyal trust that she will get both of them where they both want to be. For if you really do this, anything is possible.

[4] Companionship

I always look for companionship when I see a woman who interests me. I wonder if they would they be fun and interesting to be with. I wonder if this woman would be THE woman who I can devote my time with.

via GIPHY

I always look for companionship when I see a woman who interests me. I wonder if they would they be fun and interesting to be with. I wonder if we could talk about really deep and interesting subjects. I wonder if they would be willing to share in my hobbies. I look for companions.

This is true for most men.

Time
Spend time, meaningful and precious time, with those you love. Make your time quality time. Buy an ice cream cone with your retired father. Take you mother out of a morning breakfast. Call up one of your friends and go to the beach or hike in a local park. Spend time together. Companionship.

Now, most women are confused with what this means. They search for romance. They could care less about companionship. This is sad, because romance comes from companionship.

Romance is spawned from companionship.

My wife and I took a trip to Thailand, and while on a drinking binge, the taxi driver drove us to the middle of no where and abandoned us there. We had to struggle and make our way back to the hotel. That bungle was an adventure, but my wife well remembers the rural village BBQ meal as the dawn broke through the clouds, and the orange light that shined on our toes in the sand. Romantic times are unplanned. They come from companionship.

A man wants a person to share his life with.

via GIPHY

Every man that I know (with cultural differences, of course) looks for a companion. We feel empty inside without a companion; a special friend that we can share our life with. This is so very important. Forget the James Dean Rebel narrative. All men need a special lady in his life. This lady is a person that he is very comfortable with and one that he wants to obtain experiences and adventures with.

The idea that men are worthless and useless, especially white traditional Americans, is a progressive narrative. It has been around since the late 1970’s, but has really picked up speed during the Bill Clinton years, and completely got out of hand during the Obama years. This narrative has been promoted in the American media and software for quite some time.  Check out this screen capture;

Screen Cap
This is a screen capture of a comment train taken on 16SEP18. Have your eyes open, you can easily see how true this is. Do not fall for the progressive narrative. It is a lie. Go ahead do a Google Image Search for “white women with white men”. Go ahead. The image result is completely out of touch with the racial demographics of the nations. It does not match. This disconnect strongly implicates a propagandized narrative.

[5] A Woman’s Personality

Another thing that guys look for in a woman is personality. We are attracted to kindness, softness, sweetness, and compassion.

This is such a true statement that I feel that I need to repeat it. We are attracted to kindness. We are attracted to softness. We are attracted to sweetness. We are attracted to compassion.

When I come across a particularly militant American woman, I am immediately repelled. Especially when that person wants to lecture me on “white privilege” or some kind of populist nonsense that other weaker men accept. Don’t be a ugly bullyish brute of a woman. It’s not becoming.

Become the ideal. Your life is within your hands.

Pretty girl
Look at this pretty American girl. I have to admit that I have a thing for short frilly dresses. This is true whether they are black, or colorful. There is something really attractive about them. Man, she does look great in polka-dots. Wouldn’t you just love to go out on the town and have a cup of coffee and a cheese cake with this woman? I would buy her a grinder (subway sandwich) and a coke any day of the year!

To be honest, when I meet a woman and I get to know them, I am looking for companionship. I look for kindness. I look for care. I wonder how they treat animals, and the waitress. I watch how they behave around others, and what they think about things.

When I meet a new woman, I wonder if they would like to accompany me for dinner, dancing, and any of the hobbies that I love to partake in. Since I love wine, a non-drinker and myself might not fit together well. Since I love animals, when I am talking to a woman, I wonder if they would also be part of my life with dogs and cats. Since I love tomatoes, bacon, and gardens I wonder what their thoughts are on these subjects.

The personality that a woman has eventually dominates a man’s interest. In other words, while a man is firstly attracted to a woman’s look, and sexual appeal, it is her personality that will keep him by her side forever.

Never forget this. A kind personality will be the glue when the stresses of life become too unbearable.

[6] Self Confidence

One of the most important traits for both men and women is self-confidence. This is something that is hard to describe, but is fundamental to success in life.

The truth is that I am not at all handsome, but women are interested in spending time with me. When I ask them why, they tell me that it is for other reasons. They just chuckle, and smile. They say I’m being silly. Sometimes they push me on my chest and say “oh, you know why!“.

I chalk up the reasons to being positive, happy, interesting and having good self-confidence.

Because that is exactly what turns me on in a woman.

When I take a woman out, I want to be able to talk about things. I want to be able to talk about tomato plants, favorite foods, dogs and cats, and thoughts about life. I want to be with a person that isn’t so fucking sensitive that I am afraid of being who I am. I want to be accepted for me, and if you don’t like it, to Hell with you. The same goes double for women.

I would NEVER tell a woman that she shouldn’t eat dessert because she needed to count her calories.  I would never order for a woman unless she specifically asks that I do so. I would never say anything hurtful to her in public, or in private. Any arguments that we might have would be honest, and intentionally scripted to avoid emotional out-lash. As such, I would not tolerate sitting down with a woman who wanted to lecture me on the injustices of the world. No one likes a scold. Really.

No one.

People with confidence typically try to help others. They don’t try to change anyone. This is because they are happy with who they are, and other people do not factor in their personalities. People with low self esteem are the opposite. They feel that they have to control everything around them.

Men and women want to be around people with high self confidence. They will be accepted by them as they are without question.

[7] Respect

I have dated American women who have berated me in public. I have seen them talk bad about me behind my back. I have seen them make jokes about me. I have seen them be rude to me to my face. I have seen them think it was fun making fun of me while I just sat there and took it.

That was years ago. Now I know better. Now I know my place in this world; good or bad, right or wrong. I just don’t tolerate that nonsense like I used to. No more.

Today, now; my tolerance for this nonsense is zero.

Let me explain. Let’s begin with a story about an experience I had while I was working at GM. This story illustrates that different places has different cultures, and failure to understand and adapt to that culture can have serious consequences.

In this case, the story revolves around the public display of a lack of respect of a wife towards her husband.

I once was involved in some business in Brazil. As such, I had to travel back and forth between the United States and Brazil. I was, at that time, working for Delco Electronics (It's who we are), which was (at that time) a division of General Motors. I was involved in a Car computer project (ECM) for CEV, which is a pretty big Automotive company within Brazil.

This event took place in Brazil.

One day, all of the foreigners on staff were invited to a big banquet with other white-collar workers at CEV. We had some pretty important people from GM there. It was held in a big auditorium within a equally impressively large restaurant and hotel complex. Everyone sat at these very large round tables with a nice table layout on a large white tablecloth. Each couple (for the most part, everyone came as a couple) would sit in groups of two at the table. Thus, maybe five to 6 couples would sit at the table.

At a given cue, all the ladies (the wives and girlfriends) got up and went to the buffet to get their man (husbands or boyfriends) dinner. They got up, went to the buffet, selected what their husbands would eat, and returned to the table. They would place the plate in front of their man with respect, and then go up and get their own food.

The men would accept the meal their wife chose for them, and began eating it. They would sit there and eat, while all the ladies were fussing about their food, and making sure that the man's plate was full. They, each one, was particularly careful in what they selected for their man's plate. Some wives selected mostly vegetables, while others made sure that the man had goodly portions of meat.

However, the local section manager, a man who came from Michigan, well his wife refused to go up. He kept on elbowing her. She refused. And everyone at the table noticed. In fact, people at the other tables were noticing as well. They started talking. But she was adamant.

She said things like "you're not my boss", "I'm not doing it, uh uh, absolutely not. No!", and "I don't care what other people think. Do it yourself.".

Eventually, he got up and joined the rest of the ladies at the buffet counter. He was the only man to get up. He was the only man to carry a plate back to the table. He was alone in the big hall that maybe held a few hundred key employees of the company. 

All of the key employees, the bosses and the supervisory staff, watched him do this. The President of CEV, the division managers, all the middle level managers, the supervisors, and all the engineers, and their secretaries all witnessed this. They all noticed and ate. Their local conversations at their tables became subdued and quieter.

Meanwhile, his wife sat there smugly and proudly. They ate in silence. The wife, sitting proud and strong. He sat there facing his plate and afraid to look up. This happened in front of everyone, while everyone else in the room kept glancing their way.

The dinner ended. Everyone went home.

The next workday, on Monday, he noticed that his parking space was being used by someone else. (Unless you have worked in GM, you don't know how important this is.) He went into the lobby, and the guards wouldn't look at him, and just waved him in. This was a big change from what he accustomed to.

It continued. His secretary didn't come in. Then, started coming in very late. She would not do anything that he asked. No longer would she make him a morning coffee. No longer would she answer him, or even talk to him.

No one responded to his emails. His work was getting piled up. Nothing was getting done. After a month, it got so bad, and I was sent down to look into the matter, as I held an important role in the joint-venture project. Our Division manager wanted me to look into this issue as it looked like the entire multi-million dollar project might collapse. That's right, millions of dollars of corporate investment was at risk.

So I flew down.

I talked to XXXXX. I talked to his secretary. I talked to the CEV Division Manager. I talked to the rest of the staff.

At first no one would open up. Oh, sure they were friendly to me. They showed me deference. They treated me well. But when it came to the subject about what was going on, everyone shut up. Obviously something was wrong. But no one told me anything.

Eventually, to make a long story short, I went out and started drinking with the CEV workers. That's always a great way to break down barriers and get to the heart of the matter. Of course, GM never approves of drinking, but this was back in the late 1980's and I was in another country and immersed in another culture.

Over some beers, the first person who let me know what was going on was his secretary. She looked at me straight in the eyes. She put out her cigarette. And she said in her broken English, loudly with defiance and pure hate;

"Why? You ask. Why? Because he's a fucking wimp. He's not, NOT, N-O-T a Man. He's castrado!"

Then she spit on the floor. Now granted, most ladies don't go to bars, smoke and spit on the floor. But she had a few beers, and was really agitated.

She wasn't just angry. She wasn't just pissed. She had this kind of deep burning ember of a rage that amazed me when it came out. I thought she was going to tear my throat out. She spoke viciously. She spoke in a way that the words were spit out venomously. 

It turned out that in Brazilian culture, the man must be the MAN of the house. It is a very traditional nation and has unspoken social rules. One of which is that the woman must look good for her man. She must do great things for their Man, and for her family. 

In Brazil, the Man is the titular head of the family. He controls everything. He is the "face" of the family. He is what everyone sees. However, the wife has full control over what goes on inside the house. She is the driving force that strengthens the man.

The Man is the head of the family, and he must LEAD. If he cannot be a Man; if he cannot act like a Man, and if he cannot control the behavior of his wife and family, then he is a loser.

in Brazil, you do not want to associate with losers. Not in the least. It is like being a leper.

The point in this is that he wasn't just a wimp to his wife. He was a wimp to society. From the secretary's point of view, she went from being a high assistant to an international boss, to the slave of a beggar. No, to someone worse than a beggar. Her status in the company fell right off the cliff.

Not only that, but that was true of everyone who associated with him. It was as if he had a serious contagious illness. no one wanted anything to do with him. No one would even talk to him.

It was like he was a child predator who had aids.

Shortly after that, I returned back to Indiana and talked with the Division Manager at Delco. We had a long and interesting talk. To cut down on all the details, let it be understood that my boss sent him back to the States. His two year stint in Brazil was cut short. 

He was only there for four months.

Now, this is important. The thing is, when he returned home, there was no role for him to fill. His old job and position was already filled. He was a high-priced expensive executive with no home. Yes, for a short while they put him on "overhead", but eventually he was told to leave. They gave him a severance package. And that was it.

Years later, I heard that he spent a few years unemployed. He could never go back to GM, and his experience was too specialized. Eventually he took up contract work at a much lower pay grade. I do not know what happened since then, except that I know that he had to give up his free car, and had to sell the house at a loss. I do know that he moved into a small apartment later on. And, well, that's about all I know about him and his situation.

+++

What does this all mean?

A good wife can make a man into a strong leader. He can become important, successful and wealthy. His family would profit and benefit. His life, and the lives of all those around him would improve. A weak or poor wife would do the opposite. A bad woman can destroy the life of the man that she is with. This can be through destruction of his self-esteem (which needs to be maintained for career success) to improperly managing family finances, to everything in between.

Men, choose your wives carefully.

In my little story, a true one at that, Mr. XXXXXX ‘s wife not only destroyed his role (and great career opportunity) in Brazil, but also wiped out his stable career at GM. Unable to find work, he had to settle for a different kind of labor, one without a career, without any kind of advancement. I am sure that his piece-of-shit wife berated him the entire time. Telling him what a loser he was for his life, and not taking responsibility for all the destruction that she herself, wrecked.

People. This is real life. This is not a television show. This is not a movie. This is not all unicorns prancing under a progressive rainbow, where gay people, and LGBT folk are all living in united harmony. This is the real frigging’ deal.

Learn, from my experiences, or don’t.

Magical Unicorn
There is a sizable percentage of Americans who believe that the progressive illusion can actually manifest. They spend their days glued to their electronic media to such a point that they are completely out of touch with reality. People, there is no such thing as unicorns, and rainbows will still have a cantankerous leprechaun guarding that big old pot of gold.

What does this mean?

Different societies have different roles for men and women. This is an important part of culture. When you come from one society where washing your ass with your left hand is acceptable, you might have trouble adapting to a society where you shake everyone’s left hand. Yikes!

Over the years, I have lived in numerous non-American societies where the man is treated very special. I had a girlfriend from Zambia, Africa who would prepare my dinner like I was the Head of State.

She would get dressed up after she cooked my meal, with makeup and attire, and feed me while I sat at the table like a King.

Zambian food.
Here’s some fine Zambian food. This is Nshima and beef relish. Doesn’t it look absolutely great. Again, as I have stated before, in the rest of the world you are typically free to drink beer at dinner without having to show your age or an ID. You are also permitted to smoke without fear of arrest.

After making sure that I was well fed, she would clean up afterwards. While I sat there drinking my after dinner coffee.

Once you experience first-rate care, love and concern, you no longer tolerate anything less.

I had a girlfriend from Mexico that always made sure that I was well fed, and insisted that I am comfortable in “my” chair. In fact she guarded it so that no one else would be able to use it. She was there for me, how can I say this, on demand (if you catch my drift).

Once you experience first-rate care, love and concern, you no longer tolerate anything less.

My Chinese wife selects the food I eat, the clothes I wear, and the exercise I do. She wants me to be better than everyone else. She makes sure that I am up to it. She is strong like a tiger in this regard.

She treats me like a powerful mob boss. And, when I leave the house, I act that way in public.

Once you experience first-rate care, love and concern, you no longer tolerate anything less.

Yet, when I visit the United States, I see women acting just horrible. It is as if there is a war on males in the United States. It is disgusting.

To me, it is actually horrifying, as typically the women doing this look like big white water buffalo’s to me, acting like mean and horrible white-trash. They look like they belong on Jerry Springer, more than walking on the public street.

OK people, listen up.

As someone who is used and accustomed to being treated well by extremely beautiful women, I do not tolerate being treated poorly. This is most especially true for any woman that is not up to par in my (personal) attractiveness scale.

Once you experience first-rate care, love and concern, you no longer tolerate anything less.

I am not alone in this. This goes for all Americans who have traveled outside the Untied States. So, in my world, and in my reality, you can either adapt or leave. There is no room for the lowest common denominator.

  • American women really need to “up their game”.
  • American men need to stay away from disrespect in all forms.

via GIPHY

[8] Devotion to the Family

When both men and women are single, their interests are directed towards other things. The woman wants to be attractive, have fun, and maybe work on a career. A man, working on a career, have fun, and meet girls. Once both get married that all changes. They now have a family and together their family needs both of their attention.

This ability to focus on a family is not something that you learn about on a first date. It is something you discover over time and over numerous dates. The woman discovers just how comfortable the man would be letting her run things. The man discovers whether or not this girl is THE one who can build up a family for him.

It is not only about raising children, working on career goals, a devotion to the elders in the family and a shared sense of adventure. It is also about every aspect of a family. Just how willing is the woman to devote to building up a family, creating a home out of a house and just how important she places a family life in her scale of things.

Here is a transcription of a woman lamenting her decision to forego building a family and instead having a career.  Read it and cry.

Every Wednesday, the second hour of my national radio show is the “Male/Female Hour.” A few weeks ago, a woman named Jennifer called in.

For reasons of space, I have somewhat shortened her comments. Every young woman should read them. This is precisely what she said:

“Dennis, I want to get right to it. I’m 50 years old with four college degrees. I was raised by a feminist mother with no father in the home. My mother told me get an education to the maximum level so that you can get out in the world, make a lot of money. And that’s the path I followed. I make adequate money. I don’t make a ton of money. But I do make enough to support my own household.

“I want to tell women in their 20s: Do not follow the path that I followed. You are leading yourself to a life of loneliness. All of your friends will be getting married and having children, and you’re working to compete in the world, and what you’re doing is competing with men. 

"Men don’t like competitors. Men want a partner. It took me until my late 40s to realize this.

“And by the time you have your own household with all your own bills, you can’t get off that track, because now you’ve got to make the money to pay your bills. It’s hard to find a partner in your late 40s to date because you also start losing self-confidence about your looks, your body. 

"It’s not the same as it was in your 20s. 

"You try to do what you can to make your life fulfilling. I have cats and dogs. But it’s lonely when you see your friends having children, going on vacations, planning the lives of their children, and you don’t do anything at night but come home to your cats and dogs. I don’t want other women to do what I have done.”

I asked, “Was it hard for you to make this call?”

She responded: “It was. I want to be anonymous because I don’t want people that I know to really know my true feelings. Because you do act like ‘My career is everything. I love working.’ But it’s a lie on the inside for me. It’s unfortunate. I didn’t realize this until it’s too late. I don’t know if it’s too late. I would like to find somebody to go on vacation with.

“You have other concerns when you get older and you live alone. Who’s going to take you to your medical appointments? If something should happen to you, there’s no other income there to help you. These are things you don’t understand when you’re in your 20s because you don’t think you’ll ever get old and have health problems.

“I’m stuck now because I go to work every day. I smile like I love it, but it’s very painful to not plan a vacation with someone. It’s painful to not have a Thanksgiving dinner with someone. You sit home alone and you do nothing. I avoid my friends now that have children because I have nothing in common with them.

“Somebody asked me the other day, ‘Why did you stay single and never have kids?’ There’s answers: Because I was brainwashed by my mother into this. But it’s hard and it’s shameful to tell people, ‘I don’t know. I ran out of time.’

“There’s not a good answer for it except: ‘I was programmed to get into the workforce, compete with men, and make money.’ Supposedly, that would be a fulfilling life. But I was told that by a feminist mother who was divorced, who hated her husband—my father.

“She tried to steer me on what she thought was the right path, but feminism is a lie. That’s what I want women to know.

“I didn’t realize this until late in life. I want to tell women: Find someone in your 20s. That’s when you’re still very cute. That’s when you’re still amiable to working out problems with someone. It’s harder in your 50s, when you’ve lived alone, to compromise with someone, to have someone in your home and every little thing about them annoys you because you’re so used to being alone. It’s hard to undo that, so don’t do what I did. Find someone in your 20s.”

I said, “I’m thinking of transcribing your call and making it a column.”

“Do that, Dennis. I want to help whoever I can,” she said.

-From the Daily Signal.

A man looks for a partner. He searches for someone to make his life COMPLETE. He looks for a life partner. It is biologically programmed into him.

A devoted woman will do whatever it takes to make the family work.

Here’s two micro videos showing hard-working, but poorer girls, supporting their families and building their homes. For in China, the man MUST work, and the woman MUST take care of the family. Many times, that means building of finishing up a home while the man works far away.

A woman does what ever it takes. She is fearless. She is capable. Help her and empower her. You will receive blessings on your life beyond compare.

Let me explain these videos.

Many times a couple will get married in a poor village. The husband would have to accept a job in a far away city, while the wife stays home. Many times the wife would get the paychecks from the working husband and use that money to build their home. This is not at all uncommon.

She would take this money and budget it.

First thing on the agenda would be building and making a house. Sure she might get help from uncles and classmates. However, ultimately, much of the work would be up to her. So many of those houses in rural China were physically made by wives in support of their families.

People! This is what a traditional family looks like.

The man works and the woman stays home and takes care of the family. For young families, the man works like crazy in far away cities and sends the bulk of what he makes to his wife. He, in turn, lives either in small dorms or barracks or, alternatively inside very tiny apartments like this one…

Chinese man.
This is how a young married Chinese man lives. He does what ever it takes to help his new wife build up their family. He will work long hours and every day. He will eat what his employer provides, and will sleep in the very smallest of spaces. He will do this for his wife. He will do this for his family. This is what a traditional man is.

All the money he makes goes to his wife.

Maybe he will only make a few hundred yuan ($30). All of it goes to his wife. The Chinese women that I know differ from the American women. A Chinese wife would rather have 100% of what her man makes – even if it is only $30, rather than a small portion, say 5% of what he makes. That’s true even if he makes a million dollars.

I don’t quite understand it. Really. Because the millionaire would give the wife more money than a mere $30. It doesn’t make sense economically nor financially. But, there you have it. That is the way it is.

  • Chinese traditional women demand 100% from their man.
  • American progressive women look to men as a resource.

Culturally, Chinese women are very different from American women.

It is not a scene out of progressive liberal propaganda out of the American urban enclave. These are not little waifs that huddle in fear, or scenes out of the Handmaid’s Tale. This is real life. This is how the rest of the world lives. Open up your eyes to the reality.

And for Pete’s sake, get your friggin’ nose out of the propaganda being spoon-fed to you by the American elite.

[9] Spirituality

Look for a spiritual woman. I always look for a woman who understands that the universe is bigger than we understand. I look for a woman who can feel the presence of God.

I am a Catholic, but I am not referring to a religious person. I am referring to a spiritual person. My first wife was a Baptist. My second (the one who retired me) was agnostic, but raised as a Catholic. My current wife is a Buddhist. Find a woman who is spiritual.

Check to see if she is really spiritual. Watch how she treats animals. Watch how he feels about tradition, families. Pay attention to the role that she has in her own family. Just how functional or dysfunctional it is. Pay attention.

[10] Shared Values

Finally, I look for a woman that has the same values as I do. We do not have to agree politically, but the fundamentals must be comparative. If I am going to give her 100% of all my money, I should be able to trust her that she won’t use it on coke, crack, and casino trips.

If I am going to devote my life to one singular woman, I expect her to do the same. If I am planning to have a family, I expect her to want a family as well. If I want to travel and have an adventurous life, then I would expect her to want it as well. Alternatively, if I want to have a quiet sedentary life in a rural cottage, I would expect her to want it as well.

Shared dreams, shared values, and shared life are fundamental to a couple’s success.

Conclusions

We, men and women, can be choosy in who we select to be our mate. It is important because your mate, the person you marry, will have the greatest influence in your quality of life.  Therefore, we need to choose wisely.

This is true for both men and women.

I live in friggin’ communist China and the women here are extremely attractive, with long beautiful hair, mesmerizing eyes, tight butts and astounding chests, and are very traditional at home. They take care of their man and their family. When I am with these wonderful ladies they treat me like I am a VIP and I am treated like a God. I cannot stress how wonderful being treated special is.  Most especially from an amazingly attractive woman.  I mean, it is just amazing.

Conversely, many (but thankfully, not all) the women in “free” America look like they belong on the set of Jerry Springer. Are rude, crass, selfish and treat me like a piece of nothing. The differences between women in China is just astounding. I mean, what the heck happened?

White Trash
An American woman who runs a business that she proudly calls “Trailer Trash”. I am sure that she is proud of it. How would you like to be married to this chick? How do you think she would treat you when you got home from work? Do you think that she knows how to cook? Would she make a good mother?

For me, and most men would agree, you pick the wife that is suitable for you. Let the rest of the world howl. All that matters is what you decide and the reality that you create.

  • You can get an ugly, fat, foul-mouthed woman who will constantly make fun of you.
  • You can be with an attractive, kind, caring and thoughtful woman. She takes care of herself, and will treat you like a king.

You choose. Red pill or blue pill.

via GIPHY

You can choose the lady that is most suitable for you. If you cannot find that woman in your town, go to a different town. If you cannot find her there, go else where. Eventually you will find that girl. I promise you.

Finally, here’s a little secret. If you are having trouble, do this. Go to church. Many of the most eligible women attending church. They are God-fearing, traditional women who would make fine, just real fine, wives.

Women in General

There are amazing women all over the world. That includes the United States. It is my belief that the vast bulk of American women are great and kind and wonderful. It is just that the bad ones are so very awful that it makes everyone look bad.

I now live in China. So what I am going to do is post some micro-videos of some attractive and sweet Chinese girls to help illustrate that there is no set “type” of lady that is perfect. Everyone comes in different shapes and sizes. Each one is different and each one has their very own personal charms.

Enjoy.

Women come in all sizes and shapes. They come in all kinds of attitudes and personalities. I love every single one. Please, I urge you the reader not to get too hung up on the media narrative of what is attractive, instead find ladies that appeal to your own sensibilities. You might be surprised how refreshing and pleasant it is…

Here’s another gal. Sorry, but I am in China. So this is all that I have to work with. Here’s another Chinese girl. Isn’t she just adorable?

I am a big sucker for a nice smile and feigned shyness…

The point here is that attractiveness comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes. There is no set standard. If I were to specify some idea on what is attractive, I would have to say that it is the sum total of what a particular woman is. For each woman has their own charms that are displayed uniquely.

I, for one happen to like so many different kinds of women. I like different body types. I like different kinds of attitudes, and I enjoy a big healthy smile. Here is a nice Chinese gal with an impressive chest jumping around and having fun…

Each woman has their own personality. This personality can be seen how they move, and the their selection of the music that they play. Personality is one of the key aspects of attractiveness. Be kind. Be happy. Smile a lot. Let your inner being glow.

The point that I am making here is that there is no set formula on what makes a woman attractive to a man. The woman must be strong, be themselves, be kind. Sooner or later the man that fits her personality will come around. It could be you. So, be the best you can be, and look for a mate that is the best that she is. Together you will have a life that will be marvelous.

Take Aways

  • Men look for a mate that will best match his needs as a man, and who will be fitting for his future family.
  • Women who cannot fit within his expectations will need to find other men to be with.
  • These men, the ones that do not have traditional values, will tend to be short-term affairs or long-term relationships that will not conclude in a marriage. That is because the men’s absolute needs are not being met.
  • This post lists ten needs that a man has.

FAQ

Q: What if men have different needs than what is listed here?
A: That is fine. There are all kinds of people and all kinds of men. It is the difference that are important. Not what makes us all the same. Personally, I don’t like going into a Starbucks in NYC and then going into one in Shenzhen. They are all the same. I like to go to a local pizza establishment in NYC and eating a New York style pizza. I also like going into a family restaurant in Shenzhen and eating some delicious dumplings. It is the differences that are important.

Q: So don’t you think that you are full of Misogyny? Aren’t you just defending the Patriarchy? Aren’t you Cisgender?
A: I don’t know. Maybe.

If so, what’s wrong with it? What is it YOUR business?

I don’t hate women. I love women. I love my wife. I love my mother and my sisters. I love my girlfriends, and their friends.  Besides, what is wrong with a Patriarchy? Can you explain that?

Your assumptions are all terribly faulted, and you discuss them as if they are proven and have merit. They don’t.

Q: What does “check your privilege” mean?
A:  In 1998, American feminist and anti-racism activist Peggy McIntosh wrote an essay entitled “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” In McIntosh’s sense, privilege is a set of special provisions that a person acquires — or doesn’t — because of their identity.

If you are a rich, white, heterosexual man, then you’ll have it easier through life than a working-class, lesbian, woman of color. The exhortation to check your privilege became popular on internet blogs dealing with social justice themes as a reminder that we are not all dealt the same hand in life.

What the real truth is that it is an insult, and veiled threat that says “you had it easy in life”. I personally find it extremely insulting. As the person saying this has absolutely no idea what I had to do to get where I am now.

Q: What does Heteronormative  mean?
A: Heteronormative  was coined by the writer and academic Marina Warner in 1991.  It means “a world view which regards gender roles as fixed to biological sex. It treats heterosexuality as the normal and preferred sexual orientation.” Which is pretty much an accepted norm globally.

However the intention is to use distorted group think to redefine the narrative and to use this word as an insult. I am a traditional man, and I think that women are attractive to me. This fact, apparently, makes me “heteronormative”.

No problem. So was George Washington. So was Jesus Christ. So was Gandhi. So was Jimmy Carter. So was Bill Clinton. So was Ronald Reagan. So were both my parents and all of my grandparents.

So, a non-heteronormative person is a societal abnormality.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Why no High-Speed rail in the USA?
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
The two family types and how they work.
How to manage a family household.
Link
Soups, Sandwiches and ice cold beer.
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

Parable about America
What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2
What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.
What is planned for conservatives - part 4
What is in store for Conservatives - part 5
What is in store for conservatives - part 6
Civil War
The Warning Signs
r/K selection theory
Line in the sand
A second passport
Link
Make America Great Again.
What would the founders think?

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Things I wish I knew.
Link
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
How they get away with it
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons
A polarized world.
The Rule of Eight
Types of American conservatives.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Space Cadet (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
The Last Night
The Flying Machine
A story of escape.
All Summer in a day.
The Smile by Ray Bradbury
The menace from Earth
Delilah and the Space Rigger
Life-Line
The Tax-payer
The Pedestrian
Time for the stars.
Glory Road by Robert Heinlein
Starman Jones (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein.
The Lottery (Full Text) by Shirley Jackson
The Cold Equations (Full Text)
Farnham's Freehold (Full Text) by Robert Heinlein
Invisible Boy (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

What it was like being a kid in the early 1970’s

This is a walk down “memory lane” as I relate what it was like growing up as a young boy in the early 1970’s. I was in my early teenage years. I went to school, watched a lot of television, and played with my friends. Enjoy…

Introduction

As strange as it seems, there is very little on the internet about what it was like growing up in the 1960’s and 1970’s. It’s almost as if it was scrubbed from existence. In it’s place we now have the Obama narrative of a racist nation and terrible injustices. That narrative has nothing to do with reality. It is a scripted lie intended to manipulate people into believing something that just isn’t true.

Here, in my own little way, I would like to relate some stories of what it was like for me growing up as a kid.  For “shits and giggles” I have chosen the year of 1971. It was the last year that I had as a kid before I had to go out and work at 14 in the coal mines.

This narrative takes place in Western Pennsylvania. We lived in a small town about a two hour drive from Pittsburgh. It was a hilly and tree shaded world, with railroad spur lines that snaked in and out of the hills and crossed over viaducts and into tunnels.  I well knew those lines as I would often walk along them with my friends on hikes and adventures.

Allegheny hills
The Allegheny mountains are very beautiful. I miss the beauty of them in the fall, and the joys of canoeing on the river and fishing in the streams.

Visiting my Aunties

Many weekends my parents would drive into Pittsburgh to visit my relatives. Both were from Pittsburgh, though from different areas. We would take turns visiting the families. In the morning we would visit my father’s family, and in the afternoon we would visit my mother’s family.

Polish Hill at dusk.
A evening scene from Polish Hill. Polish Hill is a suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It is a community that was founded by Polish immigrants that went to Pittsburgh to find work in the Steel Mills there.

Often times, there would be other relatives that would come and say hi. I would see my grandparent’s brothers and sisters, my great aunts and uncles, if you will. And I might be persuaded to go with them to their homes. For some reason, the homes always smelled like bacon and cabbage.

There was always a pot of coffee on the stove. If it was cold they would either reheat it or make a fresh pot. The coffee pot was a percolator design. The water would start to boil and would be forced up through a metal straw into a container that held coffee grounds. You could control how strong the coffee was by the amount of ground in the upper container and how long your brewed the coffee. There was this glass bubble on the top of the coffee pot that you could watch to tell if the coffee was ready or not.

Coffee Pot
This is a very common way of making coffee in the 1960’s and the 1970’s. Every family seemingly had a percolator. This particular picture is very similar to the one that we used at home.

They would almost invariably offer me a cup of coffee and a bowl of what ever is cooking on the stove. There was something always cooking. Sometimes it was spaghetti sauce, sometimes it was chili. Sometimes it was “pigs in a blanket” (pork wrapped up in cabbage). Sometimes it was chicken soup. I could always eat my fill when I visited my aunties.

Of course, every single relative had this painting of “the last supper” on the wall in the kitchen / dining room.

The Last Supper
During my childhood every family had a painting of the Last Supper on their wall. My relatives all had it hanging in the kitchen, but many of my friends had it in the living rooms or the dining room instead.

Everyone also pretty much listened to the same radio station as well. Each kitchen had this little plastic radio (of vintage electronic tubes) that was perpetually tuned to the AM radio station KDKA. Popular Music would often be heard while we were visiting.

Pop Songs

While I was pretty much listening to Jefro Tull, Traffic and other rock groups, my relatives and classmates enjoyed the popular music of the time. In 1971 we were listening to the following. Notable songs are highlighted in BOLD.

Three Dog Night Joy To The World
Rod Stewart Maggie May / (Find A) Reason To Believe
Carole King It’s Too Late / I Feel The Earth Move
Osmonds One Bad Apple
Bee Gees How Can You Mend A Broken Heart
Raiders Indian Reservation
Donny Osmond Go Away Little Girl
John Denver Take Me Home, Country Roads
Temptations Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)
Dawn Knock Three Times
Janis Joplin Me And Bobby McGee
Al Green Tired Of Being Alone
Honey Cone Want Ads
Undisputed Truth Smiling Faces Sometimes
Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose Treat Her Like A Lady
Rolling Stones Brown Sugar
James Taylor You’ve Got A Friend
Jean Knight Mr. Big Stuff
Lee Michaels Do You Know What I Mean
Joan Baez The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down
Marvin Gaye What’s Going On
Paul and Linda McCartney Tom Jones
Bill Withers Ain’t No Sunshine
Five Man Electrical Band Signs
Tom Jones She’s A Lady
Free Movement I Found Someone Of My Own
Murray Head and The Trinidad Singers Jesus Christ Superstar
Jerry Reed Amos Moses
Grass Roots Temptation Eyes
Carpenters Superstar
George Harrison My Sweet Lord / Isn’t It A Pity
Donny Osmond Sweet And Innocent
Ocean Put Your Hand In The Hand
Daddy Dewdrop Chick-A-Boom (Don’t Ya Jes’ Love It)
Carpenters For All We Know
Gordon Lightfoot If You Could Read My Mind
Sammi Smith Help Me Make It Through The Night
Carpenters Rainy Days And Mondays
Cher Gypsy, Tramps And Thieves
Jackson 5 Never Can Say Goodbye
Lynn Anderson Rose Garden
Hamilton, Joe Frank and Reynolds Don’t Pull Your Love
Ringo Starr It Don’t Come Easy
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band Mr. Bojangles
Fuzz I Love You For All Seasons
Dramatics Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get
Carly Simon That’s The Way I’ve Always Heard It Should Be
Stevie Wonder If You Really Love Me
Aretha Franklin Spanish Harlem
Helen Reddy I Don’t Know How To Love Him
Osmonds Yo-yo
Aretha Franklin Bridge Over Troubled Water
Partridge Family Doesn’t Somebody Want To Be Wanted
Tommy James Draggin’ The Line
Ike and Tina Turner Proud Mary
Chicago Beginnings / Color My World
Bells Stay Awhile
Stampeders Sweet City Woman
Lobo Me And You And A Dog Named Boo
Paul McCartney Another Day / Oh Woman, Oh Why
Bread If
Marvin Gaye Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)
Brewer and Shipley One Toke Over The Line
8th Day She’s Not Just Another Woman
Freda Payne Bring The Boys Home
Rare Earth I Just Want To Celebrate
Delaney and Bonnie and Friends Never Ending Song Of Love
Freddy Hart Easy Loving
Three Dog Night Liar
Honey Cone Stick-up
Mac and Katie Kissoon Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep
Andy Williams Love Story (Where Do I Begin)
Cat Stevens Wild World
Jerry Reed When You’re Hot, You’re Hot
Beginning Of The End Funky Nassau
Olivia Newton-John If Not For You
King Floyd Groove Me
Bobby Goldsboro Watching Scotty Grow
Matthews’ Southern Comfort Woodstock
Judy Collins Amazing Grace
Dave Edmunds I Hear You Knocking
Bee Gees Lonely Days
Fortunes Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again
Who Won’t Get Fooled Again
Denise Lasalle Trapped By A Thing Called Love
Jackson 5 Mama’s Pearl
Buoys Timothy
Partridge Family I Woke Up In Love This Morning
Isaac Hayes Theme From “Shaft”
Gladys Knight and The Pips If I Were Your Woman
Neil Diamond I Am..I Said
Paul Stookey Wedding Song (There Is Love)
Wilson Pickett Don’t Knock My Love, Pt. 1
Doors Love Her Madly
Richie Havens Here Comes The Sun
Wadsworth Mansion Sweet Mary
Brenda and The Tabulations Right On The Tip Of My Tongue
Fifth Dimension One Less Bell To Answer
Doors Riders On The Storm
Perry Como It’s Impossible

The song “Maggie May” was played to death, and radio stations in central Indiana were still playing that song long into the 1990’s. Ugh!

Donny Osmond was terribly popular with my sister and all of her girl friends at the time. Her bedroom was covered in pictures of Donny, and she had her class room textbooks covered in “lunch paper” covers decorated with Donny Osmond related praises.

I first heard “The night they drove ol’ Dixie down” when I was riding with my dad in our car. He was involved in technical sales at the time. I would wait in the car and listen to the radio while reading the “Last Whole Earth Catalog“.

Last Whole Earth Catalog
The Last Whole Earth Catalog was a cultural landmark in the 1970’s. Kevin Kelly, who was editor-in-chief at Whole Earth was looking at an old Whole Earth Catalog came to the realization that it was a 1970s version of a blog.

Tom Jones was very popular with my mother and the mothers of my friends. He had a kind of sex appeal that really appealed to them.

Jesus Christ Superstar hit my generation hard. I cannot express how big an impact this movie made at my church and at my school. It seemed like every family had the album. I went and saw the play and it was really moving.

I saw Jerry Reed sing “Amos Moses” on “Laugh In” or “Sonny and Cher” I don’t remember which. Both were shows that hosted a mixture of singing, dancing and comedy routines that were quite popular in the day.

The song “Gypsy, Tramps And Thieves” was a big hit by Cher. Most people have forgotten about her today. You hear some blurb on the news every now and then, but she was a big thing back in the day. She was super popular.

The song “Don’t Pull Your Love” was very popular and got a substantial amount of airtime. You probably couldn’t get by a day without hearing that song at least once. Other heavily air-played songs included “Mr. Bojangles“.

Everyone in my school watched the Partridge Family . This was a television show about a family that toured schools all over the country and sang at them. Well, they also had a number of hits, as well as a had a following of fans.

The Partridge Family was a television show that was very popular int he 1960's and 1970's.
How can one talk about the 1960’s and 1970’s without mentioning the television show The Partridge Family?

The idea and concept of freedom to explore, of adventure and travel was very popular. The ideals of the 1960’s were fading away, and the 1970’s was a time where people wanted to just go forth and explore the world. The song “Me And You And A Dog Named Boo” was representative of this dream.

If there is one iconic song from that year (heck, for that decade), it is “One Toke Over The Line“. Everyone was listening to it, and everyone related to it. Even my mother who would make the “sigh” and gesture while saying “I guess I’m just one toke over the line…”.

This song “Never Ending Song Of Love” has fallen into obscurity. Yet it reflected the reality of the small town bars and the culture of friendship and love that was indicative of the era.

The song “Riders On The Storm” continued to be popular with me and my classmates long into our college years.

Barbershop

Next to my Father’s parents house was a barbershop. The shop was run by an old man, probably in his 90’s. He lived upstairs above the shop. The barbershop itself was a museum and probably hadn’t changed since the 1940’s.

Barbershop
A barbershop was a place and refuge for men to be men. We could talk about things that interested us , we could talk about sports, girls and life. All barbershops were smoker-friendly places where men could be themselves, free of political correctness and progressive rules.

My father would take me to the barber there and I would get a haircut. I really didn’t want to go because at that time, long hair was fashionable. I would go there and then pout the rest of the day. But, I’ll tell you what, those trips to the barbershop were some of the best memories that I have.

The barbershop was a “men’s only” establishment. On the tables were magazines about hunting, guns and adventure. On the walls were pictures of deer and ducks. There was a full length mirror on the wall that faced two very huge and ornate barber chairs. The barber wore an apron and wore his hair in a style that probably went obsolete in the 1950’s.

Men's magazines.
When we went to the barbershop we would read the men’s adventure magazines that would lie there, as well as the Playboy magazines that would be interspersed with the newspapers and the standing ashtrays.

The chairs were big and comfortable. He would often have friends hang out while he worked. They would sit there smoking cigarettes and watching him cut hair. A small radio would be on and often it would be tuned to a baseball or football game.

The place had it’s own kind of unique smell to it. It was a cross between aftershave and and old house. The barber lived alone as his wife passed on a decade earlier. He just ran the shop until he died. After he passed on, the place was boarded up and then demolished.

Hiking in the Woods

At that time in my life I spent a lot of time hiking in the woods. I would often ride my bike all over town and up and down the back roads and railroad spur lines. In the Spring the air would be fresh with the smells of lush forest canopy. In the Fall, it would be a time of warm “Indian Summers” with red and yellow leaves that would blow in the light breezes.

Railroad tracks.
I lived in a small town in Pennsylvania. The hills all around us were wooded and access to them was via back roads and rail lines. As a boy, I would spend a lot of time walking on these tracks and exploring the world around me.

I rode a gold Schwinn “banana seat” bike with “high bars” and a “drag strip” (non-tread) rear tire. Every one of my friends owned a bicycle. My sister had one with a white plastic basket in the front. My bike had these long streamers of plastic that plugged into the handles. I eventually tore those things off. But I would put a card (from a deck of cards) and attach it to the bicycle with a wooden clothes pin. That way my bicycle would make some “cool” sounds when I rode fast. It had a huge red circular red reflector on the back, right under the white “banana seat”. Like the GTO I would later drive when I was in High School, the bicycle was an orange color.

During the 1970s and 1960s all children rode bicycles. I had a banana seat bike that I rode.
We would all ride bicycles when we grew up. Which is different than kids today. Instead, today their parents drive them from event to event, instead of expecting them to get there on their own. A 1970s childhood. (Image Source)

My bike was a personal selection. When my father took me to a store to pick it out, I chose a really simple and rugged model. There were no front or rear brakes on the handlebars. To brake, you would just use the pedals. There also weren’t any gears. There was one gear only. It came with a rear view mirror, that soon broke off, and that was about it. My friends all had more complicated bicycles, and over the years, they were perpetually repairing their bikes and trying to fix them. For me, I never had that problem.

Television Shows

At that time the only television channels that we could watch were CBS, NBC, and ABC. We also had “channel 13” which was a government channel. All of our news, and our entertainment came from these three sources. Since we never had the kind of selection that we have today, we didn’t find anything wrong with it. It was normal for us.

Friday night TV
Here is the complete television selection for Friday night viewing in 1971. It is pretty sparse isn’t it. This is where all American got their news and found out about the world around them.

As sparse as the selection was, we were perpetually glued to the television set. There was usually a movie a night. They were often a few years old, after being shown in the movie theaters. If the movie wasn’t shown in the theaters it would be called a “World Premiere Movie”.

Television was rather primitive.

While we did have a color television, we still needed to walk across the room to change the channel. Imagine that! Remote controls were not available until the mid-1970’s. On top of it were “rabbit ears” until we were able to subscribe to cable in the late 1970’s. My grandmother had her “rabbit ears” with aluminum foil wrapped around it. She said that it improved her reception. Maybe it did. I don’t know, her reception really sucked, so it must have been really, really terrible.

My favorite after-school show was “The Flintstones”. All of my classmates watched it. There were many shows that I watched when I was growing up. It went from the black and white “Diver Dan” series, to the Fireball XL-5, Supercar, and included such staples as Gilligans Island, and the Man from U.N.C.L.E..

I would watch the news reluctantly. For me it was pretty boring.

However, I did follow the news about space. You couldn’t miss it. Everyone was talking about space, and the moon. That is all you heard about as a child of the 1960’s. The television shows also helped to maintain this theme.

As the news that played on the radio concerned our exploration of space and the Vietnam War.  Of course I didn’t know what was going on. It was a takeover of the United States government by dark forces embedded deep inside the United States government. When JFK was shot, my father insisted that I watch the television. He kept telling me that this was the most important thing to happen to the United States since the Civil War. He was a lifelong Democrat and he had real concerns that there was more to the story than what the government was saying. Later, after he died and President Trump released the transcripts, it turned out that my father was right after all.

The “Deep State” murdered our President.

“This fucker, johnson should be dug up and pissed on, and torn apart. Every modern ill can be traced to him.” 

-sowhat1929

On Sunday we watched Mutual of Omaha’s “Wild Kingdom”, and “The FBI” (Starring Efrem Zimbalist Jr) after the Walt Disney hour. If I wasn’t watching television, I was building plastic scale models, or experimenting on my Gilbert chemistry (and electrical) sets.

The A. C. Gilbert Company was an American toy company, once one of the largest toy companies in the world. It is best known for introducing the Erector Set to the marketplace. A chemistry set is an educational toy allowing the user (typically a teenager) to perform simple chemistry experiments.

During the Bill Clinton presidency (D) all sales of chemistry, electronics, and mechanical kits were put under investigation as possible routes for “home grown” terroristic activities, and were subsequently suppressed, if not outright banned. Over the Bush years (R), they resurfaced and eked out a small living.  However, by 2017 most hobby kit suppliers went out of business. Ramsey electronics, Heithkit electronics RIP.

At that time in my life, I like the rest of my classmates, watched shows like the Partridge Family and The Brady Bunch. These shows were about “us”. It was how we interacted with each other, and our families and our communities. This all began to change when the television media decided to change their programming towards minorities in urban areas. Television began a slow phase away from white families living in suburbia and began to concentrate on poor urban minorities.

The Brady Bunch
The Brady Bunch. The Brady Bunch is an American sitcom created by Sherwood Schwartz that aired from September 26, 1969, to March 8, 1974, on ABC. The series revolves around a large blended family with six children. Considered one of the last of the old-style family sitcoms, the series aired for five seasons and, after its cancellation in 1974, went into syndication in September 1975. While the series was never a critical or ratings success during its original run, it has since become a popular staple in syndication, especially among children and teenaged viewers.

Shows about black people were limited to “Stanford and Son”, and “The Jefferson’s”.

“The "rural purge" of American television networks (in particular CBS) was a series of cancellations in the early 1970s of still-popular rural-themed shows with demographically skewed audiences, the majority of which occurred at the end of the 1970–71 television season. In addition to rural themed shows, the purge also eliminated several high rating variety shows that had been on CBS since their beginning of television broadcasting. One of the earliest efforts at channel drift, CBS in particular saw a dramatic change in direction with the shift, moving away from shows with rural themes and toward ones with supposedly more appeal to urban audiences.”

-Wikipedia

The shows we watched were funnier than what you see on television today.  And, maybe, just maybe a little more innocent. “The Bob Newhart Show” was typical. The humor involved day to day situations and NEVER mentioned race (compare that to today), and had a real twisted surrealistic sense of humor. Consider “Mary Hartman. Mary Hartman”, or “Green Acres”. You can find out more here.

Hi my name is larry and this is my brother daryl and my other brother daryl.
Iconic characters from the Bob Newhart show that was popular in the 1970s and 1980s. Hi! I am Larry, and this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl. (Image Source.)

Ah, you’ve got to hear about the three yokel brothers in the (very surrealistic) 80’s “The Bob Newhart show”. I loved these guys. They might have been the highlight of the show. Heck, they could have had their own show (hint. Hint.)

“…discovering that a witch is buried in the basement of their Vermont inn. They want to find out who she was, but they also want her 300-year-old grave dug up and removed. 

The silly-from-next-door tells him he knows some guys who`ll do anything for a buck.

Next thing, three goofy-looking, backwoods brothers from the genetically weak side of Vermont show up. “Oh, Lord!” says Bob, getting a whiff. Larry--the only brother who ever talks--hands Bob their card.

“We`ll do anything for a buck,” it says.”

- Larry, Darryl And Darryl Are `Newhart` Hits

Larry was the spokesman. Darryl and Darryl never spoke except in the classic final episode. No matter how many times Larry met you, he always started off by saying “Hello. I’m Larry. This is my brother Darryl and this is my other brother Darryl.

They were quite good hearted, and obviously lived a strange, strange life. Afterall, clubbed weasel was their idea of good eatin’. Larry’s totally deadpan delivery of some very bizarre lines was always a highlight of any Newhart episode. “We went to the bakery ’cause they were advertising ‘bear claws’, but it turned out to just be a come-on.

Ah. Good times. Good times.

Movies and television portrayed westerns (with “white men” taming the wilderness), war adventures (mostly involving world war II fighting the evil Nazi army), space exploration (such as Lost in Space, Star Trek, Fireball XL-5, Thunderbirds are Go and Land of the Giants), and Spy Adventures (against the Soviet Union or against fictional organizations such as T.H.R.U.S.H.).

Scale Models

One of my favorite hobbies was the building of plastic models. These were often of ships, airplanes and military hardware. I made a few models of cars, but my favorites were of military tanks and figurines.

I had a desk in my bedroom. It was an old desk inherited from my father with four drawers. I used a fold-up “card table” chair to sit at it with. On it was a 1940’s style desk lamp that my parents must have pulled out of the garbage at some time. I had books on the desk, a “multiband” radio where I could listen to FM radio, and a pencil holder made out of a decorated metal coffee cup tin.

At that desk, I would assemble, build and paint my models. It was an enjoyable pursuit. The desk faced the window in the bedroom, and I would often have the windows open, but the shade drawn down about half way. The shades were in the old 1960’s style and were meant to last. They had this kind of “life preserver” style ring hanging on a string that you could pull down to raise or lower the shade.

I needed the fresh air, as the odor from the glue was toxic and would tend to get me all flustered when I used it. I remember once, that my sister was watching her television show and they were really pushing the Rigley Chewing Gum-gum-gum… Rigley chewing gum-gum-gum commercial. It must have been running every ten minutes. I was about going out of my mind with the combination of the toxic glue odor and the subliminal programming of the chewing gum. Ugh!

airplanes hung from the ceiling
I would build the models and paint them. Then, I would carefully hang them from the ceiling. My room was filled with models of various sizes and shapes.

The airplanes I would hang from the ceiling with string. I would display my collection of tanks and military equipment on shelves alongside my collection of centuries-old bottles. (I was an avoid junk collector and was always on the lookout for discarded bottles that I would collect from ancient trash dumps in the nearby forests.)

I collected Tamiya 1/35 scale military hardware models. I had quite a collection of German vehicles and tanks. At that time, the Japanese model maker Tamiya made the best quality models. They had an innovative introduction process that added new model to the collection every few months.

Tiger I
This is a model of the German Tiger I tank. I had numerous models of this massive beast in various scales. I even had one so complete that the interior was all detailed.

Alas, when I graduated from university I discovered that my mother had thrown away all of my models. She didn’t want all the clutter in the house. I guess one person’s treasure is another person’s trash.

Science Fiction

I started reading Science Fiction avidly. With one of the first books being the “Mad Scientist Club”.

The Mad Scientist Club is a series of stories (and books) written in the 1960’s which fueled the imagination and adventures of us children in the 1970’s. (The son of the author has a website. You can visit the website HERE.) These stories inspired me. They inspired my dreams and led me down the path towards technical excellence.

The book cover to the Mad Scientists Club.
The cover from the first book of “The Mad Scientists Club”. This is a classic book for all young children entering their early teens.

The boys in the stories used science to create all sorts of pandemonium and mayhem in their little town. They applied themselves to using science to make devices and gadgets. They played pranks. The books showed how a boy could engineer a device from techniques that they learned in school. They made balloons, talked on ham radios, devised electronics, and they did it all on their very own.

The beauty about all this was that they never asked for help or permission. They took the initiative and did it on their own. They applied themselves.

Indeed, these stories are special. But, don’t take it from me. Read what others have to say.

“This is the best kids book ever.

… In a way it saddens me when I re-read it. I don't think our kids today have as much freedom as these did (or my generation). I remember staying out until dark, riding my bike EVERYWHERE, clubhouses on vacant lots...Or maybe it's responsibility. Kids today have freedom but little responsibility. I'm getting off my soapbox now. but this is a cool book and it will make your kids fall in love with science. I imagine the Mythbusters grew up like this- or maybe their dads did!! ”

-Holly commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

I am afraid that Holly is correct. American children (and adults) don’t have as much freedom as we all used to. (It’s our fault, you know.) These books are for kids and inspires them to accomplish things through study and action. These books are not about getting a group together and finding a group consensus. It’s not about how to cautiously speak so as not to offend anyone. Nope. It is about getting things done and raising hell in the process.

It’s books like these that inspired many of us to study science and engineering. It certainly affected me. It also affected others. I am not the only one who studied about rockets and space…

“This was simply a great childhood book for any inquisitive kid who likes science, haunted houses, dinosaurs, flying machines, etc. I read this book in about seventh or eighth grade and actually a couple of times since. I believe this book helped me on my career to being a rocket scientist but it also gave me many ideas as I was growing up.

Brinley managed to capture the perfect mid-west US town and the guys in the book were great caricatures of fun loving, science minded boys with a bit of good natured mischief up their sleeves. Then Brinley took this setting and boys and produced a series of wonderful stories capturing so many things that so many boys growing up find so intriguing.

I bought a copy recently for a nephew and he was enraptured by it. The follow-ups while good never really reached the level of this first book but were fun in their own right. It will always hold a special memory of growing up back in the '60s.”

-Robert commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

He’s right you know. The stories certainly inspired me.

I like to think that there is inspiration in stories where you find adventure, freedom and independence. These are things that are absolutely missing in the modern realm of politically correct stories. Which, by the way, is a very important point. By following a “Politically Correct” narrative, you retard the growthof young boys. To paraphrase Clint Eastwood, you turn men into pussies.

“We live in more of a pussy generation now, where everybody's become used to saying, "Well, how do we handle it psychologically?" In those days, you just punched the bully back and duked it out. Even if the guy was older and could push you around, at least you were respected for fighting back, and you'd be left alone from then on.”

-Clint Eastwood

A parent has a responsibly to PREPARE their children to venture out and grow. They need to go forth and carve a life out of the wilderness. But that is not what is happening today. Instead we have children that never leave the nest. Young men, in the United States, live at home until they are in their 30’s. Instead of investing their time in building, workings, making, and creating, they are too busy looking at cat videos on the Internet while they post their latest latté on Facebook. Boys must be taught to aspire to be Men, not to be a woman’s version of a sensitive man.

Pussies.

No amount of tattoos, unique hair or beard, or cool urban clothing style is going to make you into a Man. It comes from within. Education alone won’t do it. Money and wealth won’t do it. Polite conversation won’t do it. It comes from inside. It comes from deep down inside. It comes from a place that says “you can, and must do what you need to do”. You don’t ask for permission, or consensus. You go out and carve your life out.  Alone.

By clutching on to your children like over protective mothers, the children don’t grow up. Physically they might age, but the brain and the emotions are still that of a young child. How else can you explain the SWJ mentality that demands a protective overseer? Which is what they want, you know. They demand to be coddled and taken care of by a big parental government Bernie Sanders style. Because, that is all that they know. They don’t know how to be independent. We don’t teach that anymore.

These books break us out of that mold…

“A gem. Almost unknown; but one of the most hilarious and memorable laugh-out-loud books you could ask for. It's never mentioned by anyone; it's never recommended, placed on book lists or chosen by reading-groups. This just might be because it's a series of books, which represents a 'philosophy-of-parenting’, which has fallen out of favor. That's my suspicion, anyway.

I mean, just think about it. These stories are about kids who are unmonitored; who are allowed to just go off on summer afternoons and hang out on their own; and do whatever they want.... because they are trusted by their folks. Today, this is the last thing parents want to hear. No one in today's control-freak, micro-managing America wants to imagine that children can be trusted like this.

Books for very young children ('Little Prince' or 'Giving Tree') are in abundance on Goodreads. They're sweet and harmless. There's also a new genre called 'YA' ('young adult'). But guess what? They're all very sanitary, careful, cautious, and timid. Antiseptic. Content-supervised and Content-controlled. They always instruct youngsters on the 'correct' thing to do, the 'sensitive' thing to do, the 'courteous' thing to do...blah blah blah.

'Mad Scientists' is different. Instead of caution, the author praises problem-solving, solidarity, daring, and initiative. It's a book written for kids illustrating how NOT to follow the rules. It’s a book, which shows that rules are made to be flouted.

These stories are from a time when today's endless complexities and anxieties just weren't around. It’s a book that deals with kids just... having fun. I say, there need to be a LOT MORE books like this.

The gang of boys in Brinley's tales are pre-teens; somewhere between 11 and 14. This is a strange interval in a boy's matriculation, when they need to figure out a lot of things about life (and it’s also a time when adults have the least relevant advice to offer). This is the space Brinley plays in: the theme of personal responsibility.

Teens NEED to create a few genuine catastrophes in order to learn the weight of 'cause' vs 'effect'. 'Intention' vs 'outcome'. 'Actions' vs 'harm'. They need to learn the ins-and-outs of friendship and loyalty and paying-one's-dues.

The 'Mad Scientists Club' (this is the name carved on their clubhouse door) demonstrate these themes grandly. These young scamps are precisely in that age where you learn how to make a mess and how you clean it up afterwards. By yourself!

The crazy scenarios which afflict these affable 'troublemakers' reminds us--should remind everyone-- that this process can be fun. Making mistakes and learning from them. The best way --nay, the ONLY way--to shape character.

Far cry from today, huh? Yeah. Today, we don't let kids have 'secret clubs', 'hideouts', codewords, or 'mysterious friends'. We don't let them play with equipment or tools. They must not 'wreck' anything of ours. They're certainly not allowed to 'gallivant all over creation' (love that phrase).

Modern parents are rule-mongers and control freaks. When our kids want to play, we take them to 'Sesame Place' and we monitor their nutrition and we deck them in flashing sneakers and put them in helmets and on leashes. We place them in soccer, swim class, softball, karate, dance, gymnastics.

The result? Modern kids have no idea what real 'freedom' means. We never give it to them. They turn out to be vegetables.

But Brinley's kids show the other way it can be done. This boy's club makes their own fun. They don't 'ask for permission' to do stuff--they just do it! They embrace wildness, zaniness, and unpredictability. The outcome? Well, they aren't brought up on charges from the Department of Homeland Security, for the trouble they cause. That's for sure. This is a part of small town-Americana we've let slip away.

Just one example: in one of the adventures undertaken by the Mad Scientists, they build their own hot-air balloon (using scraps from a local junkyard) and they enter it in the town's annual homemade hot-air balloon race. With no adult supervision at all. Once aloft, (!!) they engaged in an air-battle with their arch-foes and fire potato-cannons and slingshots back'n'forth in mid-air. Finally, they manage to send the enemy gang's balloon into the lake! Can you stand it? I can't friggin' stand it, can you?

This book reminds us that children used to be perfectly capable of taking care of themselves if we let them...if we weren't all scared out of our wits by molesters and semi-automatic weapons and drugs and porn and stalkers and computers, we'd still remember the kind of America found in this hilarious read. It's to our shame that we can't.”

-Feliks commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

Let me simply posit this; to all those men (not to intentionally exclude women, but I am a man addressing myself to other men) who have made something of their life. Maybe you are a barber, a motorcycle mechanic, a car salesman, or a cook, isn’t it true? To make it in this world, you need to stretch your neck out. You need to take risks, bend the rules a little. You need to apply yourself.

Book cover from the New Adventures of the Mad Scientist club.
The cover to the book “The New Adventures of the Mad Scientist Club”. This is the sequel to the first book. It is also good, though personally, I really prefer the first book overall.

Those times when life got tough, did you go and get permission? Did you go and ask for consensus? Did you politely ask for others opinions, or did you just go out and do whatever it took to achieve your goals? Was it easy? Nope, I’ll wager that it was hard, or at least uncomfortable. You might have to make sacrifices. Right? Right???

Part of the need to accomplish these tasks were goals. These goals were like this golden orb that lay there, just out of reach that you needed to obtain. You would work towards those goals. You would keep those goals in mind while you fought and persevered. A goal might be a car. A goal might be the love of your life.

A man is nothing without a goal.

A goal might be something more honorable and important, like saving the world. As everyone can’t be an evil villain like George Soros. Or, a wealthy trillionaire like Bill Gates. Someone needs to wear the mask of a hero…

The Idols

My bedroom was decorated as any boy of my my age would have. It was festooned with models and collections of brick-a-bract and posters on the wall. I had a poster of Farah Faucett on my wall. She was smiling with this amazing smile, and her huge hair. We all had a crush on her. That as well as Loni Anderson and Rachael Welch . Look at her!

How can you not smile?

Farah Faucett was an attractive actress that was very popular in the 1970s.
Farah Faucett was every 1970s boy’s dream. Just about everyone had a poster of her on our wall or doors in our bedrooms. Farah Faucett was every boys’ dream. (Image Source.)

I had numerous posters on my wall. One was the mandatory “black light” poster on velvet. (It glowed under UV light.) One was a picture of Richie Blackmore (Deep Purple) performing a guitar solo. (I had super imposed a F-14 on it for combined imagery. After all, space and high-performance aircraft and rock n’ roll was my dream.) One was a Roger Dean poster (anyone remember the group “Yes”?).

Raquel Welch was a very popular 1960s and 1970s actress that made a big difference in the ideas of beauty and society during the 1960's and 1970's.
Raquel Welch was another popular actress that graced the bedrooms of many a boy during the 1960s and 1970s. (Image Source.)

I became a fan of Loni Anderson in her role in the television sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati”. I think many of my friends did as well. We loved her and watching her on the show was always a highlight. That and the clueless manager who ran the office.

Loni Anderson
Loni Anderson played the role of the attractive secretary in the American sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati”.

Telephones

There were no cell phones; indeed most phones hung on the wall, and fully 50% of them had dials instead of push buttons.  Our home had two phones. One was an old Bakelite black phone from the 1920’s hidden away in the basement. I loved the feeling of it. There was a weight to it that you just couldn’t get during the 1970’s. We also had a “main” phone in the kitchen. It had an extra-long cord. My sister was always “hogging it up”. So one year they bought her a phone for her room. She still spent most of her time on the phone, it’s just that she wasn’t talking in the kitchen all day.

Sunday mornings as a kid in the 1960s and 1970s was very much a time of newspapers, coffee and hot fresh buttered rolls.
Sunday mornings were very much the same during the 1960s and 1970s. This included the children in PJ’s, the coffee, and the pets. Sunday mornings were stereotypical.(Image Source.)

In the house we wore “house clothes” also known as PJ’s, with a robe. Mother would make sure that there was always a pot of coffee brewing, and us kids would always fight over who would get to read the comics section of the paper first.  Of course, our dogs and cats merrily participated in the morning ritual. Picture above is not the ideal, it was the actual.

Global Cooling and the “Green Movement”

Global cooling
We were terrified of the global cooling. Thousands of experts were constantly informing us of the up coming global ice age that would turn Florida into a Siberian wasteland.

In our schools we would go on field trips to clean up the environment. We would go on “collection drives” to collect money for our environment, and we ended up with absolute bushels of money. (Don’t know where it all went, though…) We attended classes on the environment and school rallies to lecture us on the up-coming global cooling that would soon turn the world into a snow cone.

We were terrified!

Every cold day was a sign that the world was plunging into another great ice age. Magazines, the media, and the news all had stories about the coming cold period and the need to raise taxes to save our environment. Experts were paraded on television to teach us the need to raise taxes, and fund more research.

Global Cooling
Here’s a selection of some covers from Time Magazine during the 1970’s. The big concern was about “global cooling” and ho that taxes had to be increased to fund studies so as to stop it.

The “Love Canal” fiasco acted as a terrible “kick start” to the “environmental movement”. Americans began to wake up that we had been really abusing our environment. As such, immediate action had to be taken. And thus the government took action in the only way that it knew how…

  • It set up the EPA, and…
  • Raised taxes.

Which was the entire purpose of the decade long propaganda push; To [1] increase the size and scope of the government, and [2] to raise more taxes to go to Washington D.C..

“What’s it mean, anyway? Do 97% of #Scientists agree that the climate is changing? Actually, everyone agrees with that – that the Earth’s climate changes over time is why we had an ice age. Well, we had an ice age a long time ago. We did not have one after the #Science people promised an ice age in the 1970s. But shhhh! We’re not supposed to mention that.

Want to know what the proposed solution for the ’70s ice age that never arrived was? Give the liberal elite more money and power. Overpopulation was another big crisis in the ’70s too. It never arrived either. The solution to that was to give the liberal elite more money and power. And when they were warning us about acid rain destroying us in the ’80s? The solution to that crisis was also to give the liberal elite more money and power. The ozone hole? Yep, more of our money and power to the liberal elite. Back in the 1990s, the Al Gores of the world were warning us that we had just 10 years left to save the Earth unless … wait for it … we gave the liberal elite more money and power.

Sense some themes?

Each of these crises all had two things in common. Thing One was that none of these doomsdays ever produced the promised doom. Thing Two was that each was a demand to give the liberal elite more money and power.”

Family Meals

One of the things that I have come to appreciate the most was the family meal  that we had when I was growing up as a child. During my early childhood we would hold formal “sit down” meals in the Dining Room. Us children each had our own roles / chores in regards to this. On Sunday we would have the largest and most elaborate meals. Mealtime was the opportunity when we could all talk about our day, our hopes and dreams, and things that interested us.

At the time, I didn’t realize how important it was.

Then, during the 1970’s everything changed. Both of my parents had to work. (You can thank the American Federal Reserve for the decline in the value of the dollar that necessitated the breakup of our families.) A formal family meal was replaced with “help yourself” fix your own meals, out of a pot on the stove, or “make yourself a snack” out of the refrigerator. We would then scrounge something up, and eat it alone watching television.

Communication was via notes on the refrigerator.

Now that I am much older, I can see clearly the value of a family meal as well as a community meal. As such, I now dictatorially enforce an observance of this tradition within my own home.

Fishing with my Father

I will conclude with this little narrative of my experiences in 1971 talking about my father. He used to spend the time and take me and my siblings out to the river to fish. He had a couple of rods and a tackle box that he inherited from his (favorite) uncle. Using it, he taught me how to fish, and how to gut and clean the fish.

While it is a great memory of mine, the best part, and the part that remember most clearly is how he would drive out to the lake or stream, and we would then troop down to the area to fish. He was always on the lookout for isolated and secluded areas to fish in. He yearned for the “perfect spot”. One with deep water and plenty of overhanging limbs and trees that fish can hide in.

Oh, I would go fishing with my friends. They had an assortment of remote cabins, canoes and secret places that always provided us a great deal of pleasure. But, it was the times with my father that mattered the most to me. My friends were always up to something.

via GIPHY

I once had a friend who placed plastic sheeting on his garage floor and dumped a dump truck full of soil on it. He, at age 13, had constructed a worm farm, and he somehow had this crazy idea that he would get “filthy rich” selling worms to the local bait and tackle shops. He did actually manage to sell some. I think he might have made $5 or so. Eventually, he gave up the idea and paid some one to haul the dirt away. His dream of instant millions went bust.

I never became an expert at fishing. I was, I guess you could say, an enthusiastic hobbyist. For me, the time with my father fishing were some of the best moments of my life, and moments that I will treasure until I too, will die.

Conclusion

This was just a little narrative that I wrote about what it was like for me in 1971. It’s a far cry from the United States today. The USA today saddens me. Every time I read the news, I get either depressed or angered. There’s not really too much that I can do about the slide into open civil strife that America is plunging towards, all that I can do is take care of myself and think good thoughts.

This includes what it was like growing up as a boy.

Take Aways

  • Global Cooling was a sham designed to trick Americans into permitting a larger government and giving away more of their money.
  • There were only four television channels that we American had access to in the early 1970’s.
  • The family meal is the most important part of having a family. It is important to nurture and cultivate relationships.
  • Television shows used to focus on American culture instead of bastardized urban minority culture.
  • My favorite memories of my father was when we were fishing together.
  • 1970's living life.
    This is how we rolled. We were allowed to experience life in all it’s ugly and beautiful glory. Life is about living.

Posted On Free Republic

This article was posted on Free Republic in the chat section and collected a number of interesting comments. Many of which, I really do need to write about. Particularly what it was like for my sisters at that time, the cars that we drove, and the cultural things going on in society at that time. You can read the comments HERE.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed first draft 9OCT18.
  2. Completed 10OCT18.
  3. SEO review 10OCT18.
  4. Published 10OCT18.

Robert Heinlein’s “The Long Watch” – Full Text

There are often things that inspire us. This is most especially true when you are young and looking for direction. In my case, I was greatly influenced by the books that I read. My favorites were short-length science fiction “pulps”. These were often paperback books that I could shove in the rear pocket of my bluejeans. I would read them, and often reread them. The authors of these stories varied, but my favorites included Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein.

Here is one such story.

This story illustrates that sometimes, it take one person to take a necessary action. Often that person doesn’t want the role. However, there is no one else who can do it. So that person, out of necessity, must become the hero. He must do the difficult and uncomfortable job because he is the only one who is available.

This story holds special meaning to me.

Introduction

This story was written appeared in the December 1949 American Legion Magazine by Robert Heinlein, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law.

“The Long Watch” is a science fiction short story by American writer Robert A. Heinlein. It is about a military officer who faces a coup d’état by a would-be dictator.

John McClane: Do you know what you get for being a hero? Nothin'. You get shot at. Pat on the back, blah blah blah. 'Attaboy.' You get divorced... Your wife can't remember your last name, kids don't want to talk to you... You get to eat a lot of meals by yourself. Trust me kid, nobody wants to be that guy. (I do this) because there is nobody else to do it right now. Believe me if there was somebody else to do it, I would let them do it. There's not, so (I'm) doing it. That's what makes you that guy."

Enjoy.

The Long Watch

Nine ships blasted off from Moon Base. Once in space, eight of them formed a globe around the smallest. They held this formation all the way to Earth. 

"The small ship displayed the insignia of an admiral-yet there was no living thing of any sort in her. She was not even a passenger ship, but a drone, a robot ship intended for radioactive cargo. This trip she carried nothing but a lead coffin and a Geiger counter that was never quiet." 

—from the editorial After 
Ten Years, film 38, 
17 June 2009, Archives of the 
N. Y. Times  

I

JOHNNY DAHLQUIST blew smoke at the Geiger counter. He grinned wryly and tried it again. His whole body was radioactive by now. Even his breath, the smoke from his cigarette, could make the Geiger counter scream.

How long had he been here? Time doesn’t mean much on the Moon. Two days? Three? A week? He let his mind run back: the last clearly marked time in his mind was when the Executive Officer had sent for him, right after breakfast—

“Lieutenant Dahlquist, reporting to the Executive Officer.”

Colonel Towers looked up. “Ah, John Ezra. Sit down, Johnny. Cigarette?”

Johnny sat down, mystified but flattered. He admired Colonel Towers, for his brilliance, his ability to dominate, and for his battle record. Johnny had no battle record; he had been commissioned on completing his doctor’s degree in nuclear physics and was now junior bomb officer of Moon Base.

The Colonel wanted to talk politics; Johnny was puzzled.

Finally Towers had come to the point; it was not safe (so he said) to leave control of the world in political hands; power must be held by a scientifically selected group. In short—the Patrol.

Johnny was startled rather than shocked. As an abstract idea, Towers’ notion sounded plausible. The League of Nations had folded up; what would keep the United Nations from breaking up, too, and thus lead to another World War. “And you know how bad such a war would be, Johnny.”

Johnny agreed. Towers said he was glad that Johnny got the point. The senior bomb officer could handle the work, but it was better to have both specialists.

Johnny sat up with a jerk. “You are going to do something about it?” He had thought the Exec was just talking.

Towers smiled. “We’re not politicians; we don’t just talk. We act.”

Johnny whistled. “When does this start?”

Towers flipped a switch. Johnny was startled to hear his own voice, then identified the recorded conversation as having taken place in the junior officers’ messroom. A political argument he remembered, which he had walked out on . . . a good thing, too! But being spied on annoyed him.

Towers switched it off. “We have acted,” he said. “We know who is safe and who isn’t. Take Kelly—” He waved at the loud-speaker. “Kelly is politically unreliable. You noticed he wasn’t at breakfast?”

“Huh? I thought he was on watch.”

“Kelly’s watch-standing days are over. Oh, relax; he isn’t hurt.”

Johnny thought this over. “Which list am I on?” he asked. “Safe or unsafe?”

“Your name has a question mark after it. But I have said all along that you could be depended on.” He grinned engagingly. “You won’t make a liar of me, Johnny?”

Dahlquist didn’t answer; Towers said sharply, “Come now—what do you think of it? Speak up.”

“Well, if you ask me, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. While it’s true that Moon Base controls the Earth, Moon Base itself is a sitting duck for a ship. One bomb—blooie!”

Towers picked up a message form and handed it over; it read: I HAVE YOUR CLEAN LAUNDRY—ZACK. “That means every bomb in the Trygve Lie has been put out of commission. I have reports from every ship we need worry about.” He stood up. “Think it over and see me after lunch. Major Morgan needs your help right away to change control frequencies on the bombs.”

“The control frequencies?”

“Naturally. We don’t want the bombs jammed before they reach their targets.”

“What? You said the idea was to prevent war.”

Towers brushed it aside. “There won’t be a war—just a psy-chological demonstration, an unimportant town or two. A little bloodletting to save an all-out war. Simple arithmetic.”

He put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “You aren’t squeamish, or you wouldn’t be a bomb officer. Think of it as a surgical operation. And think of your family.”

Johnny Dahlquist had been thinking of his family. “Please, sir, I want to see the Commanding Officer.”

Towers frowned. “The Commodore is not available. As you know, I speak for him. See me again—after lunch.”

The Commodore was decidedly not available; the Commodore was dead. But Johnny did not know that.

* * *

Dahlquist walked back to the messroom, bought cigarettes, sat down and had a smoke. He got up, crushed out the butt, and headed for the Base’s west airlock. There he got into his space suit and went to the lockmaster. “Open her up, Smitty.”

The marine looked surprised. “Can’t let anyone out on the surface without word from Colonel Towers, sir. Hadn’t you heard?”

“Oh, yes! Give me your order book.” Dahlquist took it, wrote a pass for himself, and signed it “by direction of Colonel Towers.” He added, “Better call the Executive Officer and check it.”

The lockmaster read it and stuck the book in his pocket. “Oh, no, Lieutenant. Your word’s good.”

“Hate to disturb the Executive Officer, eh? Don’t blame you.” He stepped in, closed the inner door, and waited for the air to be sucked out.

Out on the Moon’s surface he blinked at the light and hurried to the track-rocket terminus; a car was waiting. He squeezed in, pulled down the hood, and punched the starting button. The rocket car flung itself at the hills, dived through and came out on a plain studded with projectile rockets, like candles on a cake. Quickly it dived into a second tunnel through more hills. There was a stomach-wrenching deceleration and the car stopped at the underground atom-bomb armory.

As Dahlquist climbed out he switched on his walkie-talkie. The space-suited guard at the entrance came to port-arms. Dahlquist said, “Morning, Lopez,” and walked by him to the airlock. He pulled it open.

The guard motioned him back. “Hey! Nobody goes in without the Executive Officer’s say-so.” He shifted his gun, fumbled in his pouch and got out a paper. “Read it, Lieutenant.”

Dahlquist waved it away. “I drafted that order myself. You read it; you’ve misinterpreted it.”

“I don’t see how, Lieutenant.”

Dahlquist snatched the paper, glanced at it, then pointed to a line. “See? ‘—except persons specifically designated by the Executive Officer.’ That’s the bomb officers, Major Morgan and me.”

The guard looked worried. Dahlquist said, “Damn it, look up ‘specifically designated’—it’s under ‘Bomb Room, Security, Procedure for,’ in your standing orders. Don’t tell me you left them in the barracks!”

“Oh, no, sir! I’ve got ’em.” The guard reached into his pouch. Dahlquist gave him. back the sheet; the guard took it, hesitated, then leaned his weapon against his hip, shifted the paper to his left hand, and dug into his pouch with his right.

Dahlquist grabbed the gun, shoved it between the guard’s legs, and jerked. He threw the weapon away and ducked into the airlock. As he slammed the door he saw the guard struggling to his feet and reaching for his side arm. He dogged the outer door shut and felt a tingle in his fingers as a slug struck the door.

He flung himself at the inner door, jerked the spill lever, rushed back to the outer door and hung his weight on the handle. At once he could feel it stir. The guard was lifting up; the lieutenant was pulling down, with only his low Moon weight to anchor him. Slowly the handle raised before his eyes.

Air from the bomb room rushed into the lock through the spill valve. Dahlquist felt his space suit settle on his body as the pressure in the lock began to equal the pressure in the suit. He quit straining and let the guard raise the handle. It did not matter; thirteen tons of air pressure now held the door closed.

He latched open the inner door to the bomb room, so that it could not swing shut. As long as it was open, the airlock could not operate; no one could enter.

Before him in the room, one for each projectile rocket, were the atom bombs, spaced in rows far enough apart to defeat any faint possibility of spontaneous chain reaction. They were the deadliest things in the known universe, but they were his babies. He had placed himself between them and anyone who would misuse them.

But, now that he was here, he had no plan to use his temporary advantage.

The speaker on the wall sputtered into life. “Hey! Lieutenant! What goes on here? You gone crazy?” Dahlquist did not answer. Let Lopez stay confused—it would take him that much longer to make up his mind what to do. And Johnny Dahlquist needed as many minutes as he could squeeze. Lopez went on protesting. Finally he shut up.

Johnny had followed a blind urge not to let the bombs—his bombs!—be used for “demonstrations on unimportant towns.” But what to do next? Well, Towers couldn’t get through the lock. Johnny would sit tight until hell froze over.

Don’t kid yourself, John Ezra! Towers could get in. Some high explosive against the outer door—then the air would whoosh out, our boy Johnny would drown in blood from his burst lungs—and the bombs would be sitting there, unhurt. They were built to stand the jump from Moon to Earth; vacuum would not hurt them at all.

He decided to stay in his space suit; explosive decompression didn’t appeal to him. Come to think about it, death from old age was his choice.

Or they could drill a hole, let out the air, and open the door without wrecking the lock. Or Towers might even have a new airlock built outside the old. Not likely, Johnny thought; a coup d’etat depended on speed. Towers was almost sure to take the quickest way—blasting. And Lopez was probably calling the Base right now. Fifteen minutes for Towers to suit up and get here, maybe a short dicker—then whoosh! the party is over.

Fifteen minutes?

In fifteen minutes the bombs might fall back into the hands of the conspirators; in fifteen minutes he must make the bombs unusable.

An atom bomb is just two or more pieces of fissionable metal, such as plutonium. Separated, they are no more explosive than a pound of butter; slapped together, they explode. The complications lie in the gadgets and circuits and gun used to slap them together in the exact way and at the exact time and place required. .

These circuits, the bomb’s “brain,” are easily destroyed—but the bomb itself is hard to destroy because of its very simplicity. Johnny decided to smash the “brains”—and quickly!

The only tools at hand were simple ones used in handling the bombs. Aside from a Geiger counter, the speaker on the walkie-talkie circuit, a television rig to the base, and the bombs themselves, the room was bare. A bomb to be worked on was taken elsewhere—not through fear of explosion, but to reduce radiation exposure for personnel. The radioactive material in a bomb is buried in a “tamper”—in these bombs, gold. Gold stops alpha, beta, and much of the deadly gamma radiation but not neutrons.

The slippery, poisonous neutrons which plutonium gives off had to escape, or a chain reaction—explosion!—would result. The room was bathed in an invisible, almost undetectable rain of neutrons. The place was unhealthy; regulations called for staying in it as short a time as possible.

The Geiger counter clicked off the “background” radiation, cosmic rays, the trace of radioactivity in the Moon’s crust, and secondary radioactivity set up all through the room by neutrons. Free neutrons have the nasty trait of infecting what they strike, making it radioactive, whether it be concrete wall or human body. In time the room would have to be abandoned.

Dahlquist twisted a knob on the Geiger counter; the instrument stopped clicking. He had used a suppressor circuit to cut out noise of “background” radiation at the level then present. It reminded him uncomfortably of the danger of staying here. He took out the radiation exposure film all radiation personnel carry; it was a direct-response type and had been fresh when he arrived. The most sensitive end was faintly darkened already. Half way down the film a red line crossed it. Theoretically, if the wearer was exposed to enough radioactivity in a week to darken the film to that line, he was, as Johnny reminded himself, a “dead duck.”

Off came the cumbersome space suit; what he needed was speed. Do the job and surrender—better to be a prisoner than to linger in a place as “hot” as this.

He grabbed a ball hammer from the tool rack and got busy, pausing only to switch off the television pick-up. The first bomb bothered him. He started to smash the cover plate of the “brain,” then stopped, filled with reluctance. All his life he had prized fine apparatus.

He nerved himself and swung; glass tinkled, metal creaked. His mood changed; he began to feel a shameful pleasure in destruction. He pushed on with enthusiasm, swinging, smashing, destroying!

So intent was he that he did not at first hear his name called.

“Dahlquist! Answer me! Are you there?”

He wiped sweat and looked at the TV screen. Towers’ perturbed features stared out.

Johnny was shocked to find that he had wrecked only six bombs. Was he going to be caught before he could finish? Oh, no! He had to finish. Stall, son, stall! “Yes, Colonel? You called me?”

“I certainly did! What’s the meaning of this?” “I’m sorry, Colonel.”

Towers’ expression relaxed a little. “Turn on your pick-up, Johnny, I can’t see you. What was that noise?”

“The pick-up is on,” Johnny lied. “It must be out of order. That noise—uh, to tell the truth, Colonel, I was fixing things so that nobody could get in here.”

Towers hesitated, then said firmly, “I’m going to assume that you are sick and send you to the Medical Officer. But I want you to come out of there, right away. That’s an order, Johnny.”

Johnny answered slowly. “I can’t just yet, Colonel. I came here to make up my mind and I haven’t quite made it up. You said to see you after lunch.”

“I meant you to stay in your quarters.”

“Yes, sir. But I thought I ought to stand watch on the bombs, in case I decided you were wrong.”

“It’s not for you to decide, Johnny. I’m your superior officer.

You are sworn to obey me.”

“Yes, sir.” This was wasting time; the old fox might have a squad on the way now. “But I swore to keep the peace, too. Could you come out here and talk it over with me? I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

Towers smiled. “A good idea, Johnny. You wait there. I’m sure you’ll see the light.” He switched off.

“There,” said Johnny. “I hope you’re convinced that I’m a half-wit—you slimy mistake!” He picked up the hammer, ready to use the minutes gained.

He stopped almost at once; it dawned on him that wrecking the “brains” was not enough. There were no spare “brains,” but there was a well-stocked electronics shop. Morgan could jury-rig control circuits for bombs. Why, he could himself—not a neat job, but one that would work. Damnation! He would have to wreck the bombs themselves—and in the next ten minutes.

But a bomb was solid chunks of metal, encased in a heavy tamper, all tied in with a big steel gun. It couldn’t be done—not in ten minutes.

Damn!

Of course, there was one way. He knew the control circuits; he also knew how to beat them. Take this bomb: if he took out the safety bar, unhooked the proximity circuit, shorted the delay circuit, and cut in the arming circuit by hand—then unscrewed that and reached in there, he could, with just a long, stiff wire, set the bomb off.

Blowing the other bombs and the valley itself to Kingdom Come.

Also Johnny Dahlquist. That was the rub.

All this time he was doing what he had thought out, up to the step of actually setting off the bomb. Ready to go, the bomb seemed to threaten, as if crouching to spring. He stood up, sweating.

He wondered if he had the courage. He did not want to funk—and hoped that he would. He dug into his jacket and took out a picture of Edith and the baby. “Honeychile,” he said, “if I get out of this, I’ll never even try to beat a red light.” He kissed the picture and put it back. There was nothing to do but wait.

What was keeping Towers? Johnny wanted to make sure that Towers was in blast range. What a joke on the jerk! Me—sitting here, ready to throw the switch on him. The idea tickled him; it led to a better: why blow himself up—alive?

There was another way to rig it—a “dead man” control. Jigger up some way so that the last step, the one that set off the bomb, would not happen as long as he kept his hand on a switch or a lever or something. Then, if they blew open the door, or shot him, or anything—up goes the balloon!

Better still, if he could hold them off with the threat of it, sooner or later help would come—Johnny was sure that most of the Patrol was not in this stinking conspiracy—and then: Johnny comes marching home! What a reunion! He’d resign and get a teaching job; he’d stood his watch.

All the while, he was working. Electrical? No, too little time. Make it a simple mechanical linkage. He had it doped out but had hardly begun to build it when the loudspeaker called him. “Johnny?”

“That you, Colonel?” His hands kept busy.

“Let me in.”

“Well, now, Colonel, that wasn’t in the agreement.” Where in blue blazes was something to use as a long lever?

“I’ll come in alone, Johnny, I give you my word. We’ll talk face to face.”

His word! “We can talk over the speaker, Colonel.” Hey, that was it—a yardstick, hanging on the tool rack.

“Johnny, I’m warning you. Let me in, or I’ll blow the door off.”

” wire—he needed a wire, fairly long and stiff. He tore the antenna from his suit. “You wouldn’t do that, Colonel. It would ruin the bombs.”

“Vacuum won’t hurt the bombs. Quit stalling.”

“Better check with Major Morgan. Vacuum won’t hurt them; explosive decompression would wreck every circuit.” The Colonel was not a bomb specialist; he shut up for several minutes. Johnny went on working.

“Dahlquist,” Towers resumed, “that was a clumsy lie. I checked with Morgan. You have sixty seconds to get into your suit, if you aren’t already. I’m going to blast the door.”

“No, you won’t,” said Johnny. “Ever hear of a ‘dead man’ switch?” Now for a counterweight—and a sling.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“I’ve rigged number seventeen to set off by hand. But I put in a gimmick. It won’t blow while I hang on to a strap I’ve got in my hand. But if anything happens to meup she goes! You are about fifty feet from the blast center. Think it over.”

There was a short silence. “I don’t believe you.”

“No? Ask Morgan. He’ll believe me. He can inspect it, over the TV pick-up.” Johnny lashed the belt of his space suit to the end of the yardstick.

“You said the pick-up was out of order.”

“So I lied. This time I’ll prove it. Have Morgan call me.”

Presently Major Morgan’s face appeared. “Lieutenant Dahlquist?”

“Hi, Stinky. Wait a sec.” With great care Dahlquist made one last connection while holding down the end of the yardstick. Still careful, he shifted his grip to the belt, sat down on the floor, stretched an arm and switched on the TV pick-up. “Can you see me, Stinky?”

“I can see you,” Morgan answered stiffly. “What is this nonsense?”

“A little surprise I whipped up.” He explained it—what circuits he had cut out, what ones had been shorted, just how the jury-rigged mechanical sequence fitted in.

Morgan nodded. “But you’re bluffing, Dahlquist, I feel sure that you haven’t disconnected the ‘K’ circuit. You don’t have the guts to blow yourself up.”

Johnny chuckled. “I sure haven’t. But that’s the beauty of it. It can’t go off, so long as I am alive. If your greasy boss, ex-Colonel Towers, blasts the door, then I’m dead and the bomb goes off. It won’t matter to me, but it will to him. Better tell him.” He switched off.

Towers came on over the speaker shortly. “Dahlquist?”

“I hear you.”

“‘There’s no need to throwaway your life. Come out and you will be retired on full pay. You can go home to your family. That’s a promise.”

Johnny got mad. “You keep my family out of this!”

“Think of them, man.”

“Shut up. Get back to your hole. I feel a need to scratch and this whole shebang might just explode in your lap.”

II

Johnny sat up with a start. He had dozed, his hand hadn’t let go the sling, but he had the shakes when he thought about it.

Maybe he should disarm the bomb and depend on their not daring to dig him out? But Towers’ neck was already in hock for treason; Towers might risk it. If he did and the bomb were disarmed, Johnny would be dead and Towers would have the bombs. No, he had gone this far; he wouldn’t let his baby girl grow up in a dictatorship just to catch some sleep.

He heard the Geiger counter clicking and remembered having used the suppressor circuit. The radioactivity in the room must be increasing, perhaps from scattering the “brain” circuits-the circuits were sure to be infected; they had lived too long too close to plutonium. He dug out his film.

The dark area was spreading toward the red line.

He put it back and said, “Pal, better break this deadlock or you are going to shine like a watch dial.” It was a figure of speech; infected animal tissue does not glow—it simply dies, slowly.

The TV screen lit up; Towers’ face appeared. “Dahlquist? I want to talk to you.”

“Go fly a kite.”

“Let’s admit you have us inconvenienced.”

“Inconvenienced, hell—I’ve got you stopped.”

“For the moment. I’m arranging to get more bombs—”

“Liar.”

“—but you are slowing us up. I have a proposition.”

“Not interested.”

“Wait. When this is over I will be chief of the world government. If you cooperate, even now, I will make you my administrative head.”

Johnny told him what to do with it. Towers said, “Don’t be stupid. What do you gain by dying?”

Johnny grunted. “Towers, what a prime stinker you are.

You spoke of my family. I’d rather see them dead than living under a two-bit Napoleon like you. Now go away—I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Towers switched off.

Johnny got out his film again. It seemed no darker but it re-minded him forcibly that time was running out. He was hungry and thirsty—and he could not stay awake forever. It took four days to get a ship up from Earth; he could not expect rescue any sooner. And he wouldn’t last four days—once the darkening spread past the red line he was a goner.

His only chance was to wreck the bombs beyond repair, and get out—before that film got much darker.

He thought about ways, then got busy. He hung a weight on the sling, tied a line to it. If Towers blasted the door, he hoped to jerk the rig loose before he died.

There was a simple, though arduous, way to wreck the bombs beyond any capacity of Moon Base to repair them. The heart of each was two hemispheres of plutonium, their flat surface polished smooth to permit perfect contact when slapped together. Anything less would prevent the chain reaction on which atomic explosion depended.

Johnny started taking apart one of the bombs.

He had to bash off four lugs, then break the glass envelope around the inner assembly. Aside from that the bomb came apart easily. At last he had in front of him two gleaming, mirror-perfect half globes.

A blow with the hammer—and one was no longer perfect. Another blow and the second cracked like glass; he had trapped its crystalline structure just right.

Hours later, dead tired, he went back to the armed bomb. Forcing himself to steady down, with extreme care he disarmed it. Shortly its silvery hemispheres too were useless. There was no longer a usable bomb in the room—but huge fortunes in the most valuable, most poisonous, and most deadly metal in the known world were spread around the floor.

Johnny looked at the deadly stuff. “Into your suit and out of here, son,” he said aloud. “I wonder what Towers will say?”

He walked toward the rack, intending to hang up the hammer. As he passed, the Geiger counter chattered wildly.

Plutonium hardly affects a Geiger counter; secondary infection from plutonium does. Johnny looked at the hammer, then held it closer to the Geiger counter. The counter screamed.

Johnny tossed it hastily away and started back toward his suit.

As he passed the counter it chattered again. He stopped short.

He pushed one hand close to the counter. Its clicking picked up to a steady roar. Without moving he reached into his pocket and took out his exposure film.

It was dead black from end to end.

III

Plutonium taken into the body moves quickly to bone marrow. Nothing can be done; the victim is finished. Neutrons from it smash through the body, ionizing tissue, transmuting atoms into radioactive isotopes, destroying and killing. The fatal dose is unbelievably small; a mass a tenth the size of a grain of table salt is more than enough—a dose small enough to enter through the tiniest scratch. During the historic “Manhattan Project” immediate high amputation was considered the only possible first-aid measure.

Johnny knew all this but it no longer disturbed him. He sat on the floor, smoking a hoarded cigarette, and thinking. The events of his long watch were running through his mind.

He blew a puff of smoke at the Geiger counter and smiled without humor to hear it chatter more loudly. By now even his breath was “hot”—carbon-14, he supposed, exhaled from his blood stream as carbon dioxide. It did not matter.

There was no longer any point in surrendering, nor would he give Towers the satisfaction—he would finish out this watch right here. Besides, by keeping up the bluff that one bomb was ready to blow, he could stop them from capturing the raw material from which bombs were made. That might be important in the long run.

He accepted, without surprise, the fact that he was not unhappy. There was a sweetness about having no further worries of any sort. He did not hurt, he was not uncomfortable, he was no longer even hungry. Physically he still felt fine and his mind was at peace. He was dead—he knew that he was dead; yet for a time he was able to walk and breathe and see and feel.

He was not even lonesome. He was not alone; there were comrades with him—the boy with his finger in the dike, Colonel Bowie, too ill to move but insisting that he be carried across the line, the dying Captain of the Chesapeake still with deathless challenge on his lips, Rodger Young peering into the gloom. They gathered about him in the dusky bomb room.

And of course there was Edith. She was the only one he was aware of. Johnny wished that he could see her face more clearly. Was she angry? Or proud and happy?

Proud though unhappy—he could see her better now and even feel her hand. He held very still.

Presently his cigarette burned down to his fingers. He took a final puff, blew it at the Geiger counter, and put it out. It was his last. He gathered several butts and fashioned a roll-your-own with a bit of paper found in a pocket. He lit it care-fully and settled back to wait for Edith to show up again. He was very happy.

He was still propped against the bomb case, the last of his salvaged cigarettes cold at his side, when the speaker called out again. “Johnny? Hey, Johnny! Can you hear me? This is Kelly. It’s all over. The Lafayette landed and Towers blew his brains out. Johnny? Answer me.”

When they opened the outer door, the first man in carried a Geiger counter in front of him on the end of a long pole. He stopped at the threshold and backed out hastily. “Hey, chief!” he called. “Better get some handling equipment—uh, and a lead coffin, too.”

* * *

"Four days it took the little ship and her escort to reach Earth. Four days while all of Earth's people awaited her arrival. For ninety-eight hours all commercial programs were of} television; instead there was an endless dirge—-the Dead March tram Saul, the Valhalla theme, Going Home, the Patrol's own Landing Orbit.

"The nine ships landed at Chicago Port. A drone tractor removed the casket from the small ship; the ship was then refueled and blasted off in an escape trajectory, thrown away into outer space, never again to be used for a lesser purpose. 

"The tractor progressed to the Illinois town where Lieutenant Dahlquist had been born, while the dirge continued. There it placed the casket on a pedestal, inside a barrier marking the distance of safe approach. Space marines, arms reversed and heads bowed, stood guard around it; the crowds stayed outside this circle. And still the dirge continued. 

"When enough time had passed, long, long after the heaped flowers had withered, the lead casket was enclosed in marble, just as you see it today." 

Conclusion

When George Soros offers you millions of dollars and a lifetime of service by prostitutes as long as you do his bidding, would you do it? Don’t laugh. It happened. Check this out here;

Snopes

What if you could get a nice pension for not teaching High School students the United States Constitution? Or looking the other way, when bills are passed that violate the Bill of Rights? What if by not taking any action, you would get enormous lumps of money and prestige? All you need to do is “be a team player” and “go with the flow”? What if?

Well it has happened. Go here…

How they get away with it

What if you could get a position in government and collect all the top secret documents, and sell them to the highest bidding foreign nation? What if you could get away with it, and have all of the government support you? What if you could get away with it/ Would you do it?

It’s happened. Go here…

Line in the sand

Ultimately the life we live is do to what we do, or what we do not do. The world that we live in today is a direct consequence of our actions, or (in the case of many Americans) our inaction. I think it is high time that we reverse this trend and start standing up for ourselves.

Take Aways

  • Fictional stories are enjoyable to read, but have meaning in important ways.
  • This story was written after World War II, when the idea of a tyrannical government was fresh in the minds of Americans.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 3OCT18
  2. Completed 3OCT18.
  3. SEO 3OCT18.
  4. Published 3OCT18.

A Sound of Thunder (Full Text) A Story by Ray Bradbury

This story was written right after World War II by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law.

A Sound of Thunder” is a science fiction short story by Ray Bradbury, first published in Collier’s magazine in the June 28, 1952, issue and Bradbury’s collection The Golden Apples of the Sun in 1953.

Ray Bradberry is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

Introduction

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…”

R is for Rocket

Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “A Sound of Thunder” on the Ray Bradbury library portal in Russia, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.

A Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury

The sign on the wall seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water. Eckels felt his eyelids blink over his stare, and the sign burned in this momentary darkness: 

TIME SAFARI, INC.
SAFARIS TO ANY YEAR IN THE PAST.
YOU NAME THE ANIMAL.
WE TAKE YOU THERE.
YOU SHOOT IT.

Warm phlegm gathered in Eckels' throat; he swallowed and pushed it down. The muscles around his mouth formed a smile as he put his hand slowly out upon the air, and in that hand waved a check for ten thousand dollars to the man behind the desk.

"Does this safari guarantee I come back alive?"

"We guarantee nothing," said the official, "except the dinosaurs." He turned. "This is Mr. Travis, your Safari Guide in the Past. He'll tell you what and where to shoot. If he says no shooting, no shooting. If you disobey instructions, there's a stiff penalty of another ten thousand dollars, plus possible government action, on your return."

Eckels glanced across the vast office at a mass and tangle, a snaking and humming of wires and steel boxes, at an aurora that flickered now orange, now silver, now blue. There was a sound like a gigantic bonfire burning all of Time, all the years and all the parchment calendars, all the hours piled high and set aflame.

A touch of the hand and this burning would, on the instant, beautifully reverse itself. Eckels remembered the wording in the advertisements to the letter. Out of chars and ashes, out of dust and coals, like golden salamanders, the old years, the green years, might leap; roses sweeten the air, white hair turn Irish-black, wrinkles vanish; all, everything fly back to seed, flee death, rush down to their beginnings, suns rise in western skies and set in glorious easts, moons eat themselves opposite to the custom, all and everything cupping one in another like Chinese boxes, rabbits into hats, all and everything returning to the fresh death, the seed death, the green death, to the time before the beginning. 

A touch of a hand might do it, the merest touch of a hand. 

"Unbelievable." Eckels breathed, the light of the Machine on his thin face. "A real Time Machine." He shook his head. "Makes you think, If the election had gone badly yesterday, I might be here now running away from the results. Thank God Keith won. He'll make a fine President of the United States." 

"Yes," said the man behind the desk. "We're lucky. If Deutscher had gotten in, we'd have the worst kind of dictatorship. There's an anti everything man for you, a militarist, anti-Christ, anti-human, anti-intellectual. People called us up, you know, joking but not joking. Said if Deutscher became President they wanted to go live in 1492. Of course it's not our business to conduct Escapes, but to form Safaris. Anyway, Keith's President now. All you got to worry about is-"

"Shooting my dinosaur," Eckels finished it for him.

"A Tyrannosaurus Rex. The Tyrant Lizard, the most incredible monster in history. Sign this release. Anything happens to you, we're not responsible. Those dinosaurs are hungry."

Eckels flushed angrily. "Trying to scare me!"

"Frankly, yes. We don't want anyone going who'll panic at the first shot. Six Safari leaders were killed last year, and a dozen hunters. We're here to give you the severest thrill a real hunter ever asked for. Traveling you back sixty million years to bag the biggest game in all of Time. Your personal check's still there. Tear it up."Mr. Eckels looked at the check. His fingers twitched.

"Good luck," said the man behind the desk. "Mr. Travis, he's all yours."

They moved silently across the room, taking their guns with them, toward the Machine, toward the silver metal and the roaring light.

First a day and then a night and then a day and then a night, then it was day-night-day-night. A week, a month, a year, a decade! A.D. 2055. A.D. 2019. 1999! 1957! Gone! The Machine roared.

They put on their oxygen helmets and tested the intercoms.

Eckels swayed on the padded seat, his face pale, his jaw stiff. He felt the trembling in his arms and he looked down and found his hands tight on the new rifle. There were four other men in the Machine. Travis, the Safari Leader, his assistant, Lesperance, and two other hunters, Billings and Kramer. They sat looking at each other, and the years blazed around them.

"Can these guns get a dinosaur cold?" Eckels felt his mouth saying.

"If you hit them right," said Travis on the helmet radio. "Some dinosaurs have two brains, one in the head, another far down the spinal column. We stay away from those. That's stretching luck. Put your first two shots into the eyes, if you can, blind them, and go back into the brain."

The Machine howled. Time was a film run backward. Suns fled and ten million moons fled after them. "Think," said Eckels. "Every hunter that ever lived would envy us today. This makes Africa seem like Illinois."

The Machine slowed; its scream fell to a murmur. The Machine stopped.

The sun stopped in the sky.

The fog that had enveloped the Machine blew away and they were in an old time, a very old time indeed, three hunters and two Safari Heads with their blue metal guns across their knees.

"Christ isn't born yet," said Travis, "Moses has not gone to the mountains to talk with God. The Pyramids are still in the earth, waiting to be cut out and put up. Remember that. Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler-none of them exists." The man nodded.

"That" - Mr. Travis pointed - "is the jungle of sixty million two thousand and fifty-five years before President Keith."

He indicated a metal path that struck off into green wilderness, over streaming swamp, among giant ferns and palms.

"And that," he said, "is the Path, laid by Time Safari for your use,

It floats six inches above the earth. Doesn't touch so much as one grass blade, flower, or tree. It's an anti-gravity metal. Its purpose is to keep you from touching this world of the past in any way. Stay on the Path. Don't go off it. I repeat. Don't go off. For any reason! If you fall off, there's a penalty. And don't shoot any animal we don't okay."

"Why?" asked Eckels.

They sat in the ancient wilderness. Far birds' cries blew on a wind, and the smell of tar and an old salt sea, moist grasses, and flowers the color of blood.

"We don't want to change the Future. We don't belong here in the Past. The government doesn't like us here. We have to pay big graft to keep our franchise. A Time Machine is finicky business. Not knowing it, we might kill an important animal, a small bird, a roach, a flower even, thus destroying an important link in a growing species."

"That's not clear," said Eckels.

"All right," Travis continued, "say we accidentally kill one mouse here. That means all the future families of this one particular mouse are destroyed, right?"

"Right"

"And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot, you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!"

"So they're dead," said Eckels. "So what?"

"So what?" Travis snorted quietly. "Well, what about the foxes that'll need those mice to survive? For want of ten mice, a fox dies. For want of ten foxes a lion starves. For want of a lion, all manner of insects, vultures, infinite billions of life forms are thrown into chaos and destruction. 

Eventually it all boils down to this: fifty-nine million years later, a caveman, one of a dozen on the entire world, goes hunting wild boar or saber-toothed tiger for food. But you, friend, have stepped on all the tigers in that region. By stepping on one single mouse. So the caveman starves. And the caveman, please note, is not just any expendable man, no! He is an entire future nation. From his loins would have sprung ten sons. From their loins one hundred sons, and thus onward to a civilization. Destroy this one man, and you destroy a race, a people, an entire history of life. It is comparable to slaying some of Adam's grandchildren. The stomp of your foot, on one mouse, could start an earthquake, the effects of which could shake our earth and destinies down through Time, to their very foundations. 

With the death of that one caveman, a billion others yet unborn are throttled in the womb. Perhaps Rome never rises on its seven hills. Perhaps Europe is forever a dark forest, and only Asia waxes healthy and teeming. Step on a mouse and you crush the Pyramids. Step on a mouse and you leave your print, like a Grand Canyon, across Eternity. Queen Elizabeth might never be born, Washington might not cross the Delaware, there might never be a United States at all. So be careful. Stay on the Path. Never step off!"

"I see," said Eckels. "Then it wouldn't pay for us even to touch the grass?"

"Correct. Crushing certain plants could add up infinitesimally. A little error here would multiply in sixty million years, all out of proportion. Of course maybe our theory is wrong. Maybe Time can't be changed by us. Or maybe it can be changed only in little subtle ways. A dead mouse here makes an insect imbalance there, a population disproportion later, a bad harvest further on, a depression, mass starvation, and finally, a change in social temperament in far-flung countries. Something much more subtle, like that. Perhaps only a soft breath, a whisper, a hair, pollen on the air, such a slight, slight change that unless you looked close you wouldn't see it. Who knows? Who really can say he knows? We don't know. We're guessing. But until we do know for certain whether our messing around in Time can make a big roar or a little rustle in history, we're being careful. This Machine, this Path, your clothing and bodies, were sterilized, as you know, before the journey. We wear these oxygen helmets so we can't introduce our bacteria into an ancient atmosphere."

"How do we know which animals to shoot?"

"They're marked with red paint," said Travis. "Today, before our journey, we sent Lesperance here back with the Machine. He came to this particular era and followed certain animals."

"Studying them?"

"Right," said Lesperance. "I track them through their entire existence, noting which of them lives longest. Very few. How many times they mate. Not often. Life's short, When I find one that's going to die when a tree falls on him, or one that drowns in a tar pit, I note the exact hour, minute, and second. I shoot a paint bomb. It leaves a red patch on his side. We can't miss it. Then I correlate our arrival in the Past so that we meet the Monster not more than two minutes before he would have died anyway. This way, we kill only animals with no future, that are never going to mate again. You see how careful we are?"

"But if you come back this morning in Time," said Eckels eagerly, you must've bumped into us, our Safari! How did it turn out? Was it successful? Did all of us get through-alive?"

Travis and Lesperance gave each other a look.

"That'd be a paradox," said the latter. "Time doesn't permit that sort of mess-a man meeting himself. When such occasions threaten, Time steps aside. Like an airplane hitting an air pocket. You felt the Machine jump just before we stopped? That was us passing ourselves on the way back to the Future. We saw nothing. There's no way of telling if this expedition was a success, if we got our monster, or whether all of us - meaning you, Mr. Eckels - got out alive."

Eckels smiled palely.

"Cut that," said Travis sharply. "Everyone on his feet!"

They were ready to leave the Machine.

The jungle was high and the jungle was broad and the jungle was the entire world forever and forever. Sounds like music and sounds like flying tents filled the sky, and those were pterodactyls soaring with cavernous gray wings, gigantic bats of delirium and night fever.

Eckels, balanced on the narrow Path, aimed his rifle playfully.

"Stop that!" said Travis. "Don't even aim for fun, blast you! If your guns should go off - - "

Eckels flushed. "Where's our Tyrannosaurus?"

Lesperance checked his wristwatch. "Up ahead, We'll bisect his trail in sixty seconds. Look for the red paint! Don't shoot till we give the word. Stay on the Path. Stay on the Path!"

They moved forward in the wind of morning.

"Strange," murmured Eckels. "Up ahead, sixty million years, Election Day over. Keith made President. Everyone celebrating. And here we are, a million years lost, and they don't exist. The things we worried about for months, a lifetime, not even born or thought of yet."

"Safety catches off, everyone!" ordered Travis. "You, first shot, Eckels. Second, Billings, Third, Kramer."

"I've hunted tiger, wild boar, buffalo, elephant, but now, this is it," said Eckels. "I'm shaking like a kid."

"Ah," said Travis.

Everyone stopped.

Travis raised his hand. "Ahead," he whispered. "In the mist. There he is. There's His Royal Majesty now."

The jungle was wide and full of twitterings, rustlings, murmurs, and sighs.

Suddenly it all ceased, as if someone had shut a door.

Silence.

A sound of thunder.

Out of the mist, one hundred yards away, came Tyrannosaurus Rex.

"It," whispered Eckels. "It......

"Sh!"

It came on great oiled, resilient, striding legs. It towered thirty feet above half of the trees, a great evil god, folding its delicate watchmaker's claws close to its oily reptilian chest. Each lower leg was a piston, a thousand pounds of white bone, sunk in thick ropes of muscle, sheathed over in a gleam of pebbled skin like the mail of a terrible warrior. Each thigh was a ton of meat, ivory, and steel mesh. And from the great breathing cage of the upper body those two delicate arms dangled out front, arms with hands which might pick up and examine men like toys, while the snake neck coiled. And the head itself, a ton of sculptured stone, lifted easily upon the sky. Its mouth gaped, exposing a fence of teeth like daggers. Its eyes rolled, ostrich eggs, empty of all expression save hunger. It closed its mouth in a death grin. It ran, its pelvic bones crushing aside trees and bushes, its taloned feet clawing damp earth, leaving prints six inches deep wherever it settled its weight.

It ran with a gliding ballet step, far too poised and balanced for its ten tons. It moved into a sunlit area warily, its beautifully reptilian hands feeling the air.

"Why, why," Eckels twitched his mouth. "It could reach up and grab the moon."

"Sh!" Travis jerked angrily. "He hasn't seen us yet."

"It can't be killed," Eckels pronounced this verdict quietly, as if there could be no argument. He had weighed the evidence and this was his considered opinion. The rifle in his hands seemed a cap gun. "We were fools to come. This is impossible."

"Shut up!" hissed Travis.

"Nightmare."

"Turn around," commanded Travis. "Walk quietly to the Machine. We'll remit half your fee."

"I didn't realize it would be this big," said Eckels. "I miscalculated, that's all. And now I want out."

"It sees us!"

"There's the red paint on its chest!"

The Tyrant Lizard raised itself. Its armored flesh glittered like a thousand green coins. The coins, crusted with slime, steamed. In the slime, tiny insects wriggled, so that the entire body seemed to twitch and undulate, even while the monster itself did not move. It exhaled. The stink of raw flesh blew down the wilderness.

"Get me out of here," said Eckels. "It was never like this before. I was always sure I'd come through alive. I had good guides, good safaris, and safety. This time, I figured wrong. I've met my match and admit it. This is too much for me to get hold of."

"Don't run," said Lesperance. "Turn around. Hide in the Machine."

"Yes." Eckels seemed to be numb. He looked at his feet as if trying to make them move. He gave a grunt of helplessness.

"Eckels!"

He took a few steps, blinking, shuffling.

"Not that way!"

The Monster, at the first motion, lunged forward with a terrible scream. It covered one hundred yards in six seconds. The rifles jerked up and blazed fire. A windstorm from the beast's mouth engulfed them in the stench of slime and old blood. The Monster roared, teeth glittering with sun.

Eckels, not looking back, walked blindly to the edge of the Path, his gun limp in his arms, stepped off the Path, and walked, not knowing it, in the jungle. His feet sank into green moss. His legs moved him, and he felt alone and remote from the events behind.

The rifles cracked again, Their sound was lost in shriek and lizard thunder. The great level of the reptile's tail swung up, lashed sideways. Trees exploded in clouds of leaf and branch. The Monster twitched its jeweler's hands down to fondle at the men, to twist them in half, to crush them like berries, to cram them into its teeth and its screaming throat. Its boulderstone eyes leveled with the men. They saw themselves mirrored. They fired at the metallic eyelids and the blazing black iris,

Like a stone idol, like a mountain avalanche, Tyrannosaurus fell.

Thundering, it clutched trees, pulled them with it. It wrenched and tore the metal Path. The men flung themselves back and away. The body hit, ten tons of cold flesh and stone. The guns fired. The Monster lashed its armored tail, twitched its snake jaws, and lay still. A fount of blood spurted from its throat. Somewhere inside, a sac of fluids burst. Sickening gushes drenched the hunters. They stood, red and glistening.

The thunder faded.

The jungle was silent. After the avalanche, a green peace. After the nightmare, morning.

Billings and Kramer sat on the pathway and threw up. Travis and Lesperance stood with smoking rifles, cursing steadily. In the Time Machine, on his face, Eckels lay shivering. He had found his way back to the Path, climbed into the Machine.

Travis came walking, glanced at Eckels, took cotton gauze from a metal box, and returned to the others, who were sitting on the Path.

"Clean up."

They wiped the blood from their helmets. They began to curse too. The Monster lay, a hill of solid flesh. Within, you could hear the sighs and murmurs as the furthest chambers of it died, the organs malfunctioning, liquids running a final instant from pocket to sac to spleen, everything shutting off, closing up forever. It was like standing by a wrecked locomotive or a steam shovel at quitting time, all valves being released or levered tight. Bones cracked; the tonnage of its own flesh, off balance, dead weight, snapped the delicate forearms, caught underneath. The meat settled, quivering.

Another cracking sound. Overhead, a gigantic tree branch broke from its heavy mooring, fell. It crashed upon the dead beast with finality.

"There." Lesperance checked his watch. "Right on time. That's the giant tree that was scheduled to fall and kill this animal originally." He glanced at the two hunters. "You want the trophy picture?"

"What?"

"We can't take a trophy back to the Future. The body has to stay right here where it would have died originally, so the insects, birds, and bacteria can get at it, as they were intended to. Everything in balance. The body stays. But we can take a picture of you standing near it."

The two men tried to think, but gave up, shaking their heads.

They let themselves be led along the metal Path. They sank wearily into the Machine cushions. They gazed back at the ruined Monster, the stagnating mound, where already strange reptilian birds and golden insects were busy at the steaming armor. A sound on the floor of the Time Machine stiffened them. Eckels sat there, shivering.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"Get up!" cried Travis.

Eckels got up.

"Go out on that Path alone," said Travis. He had his rifle pointed, "You're not coming back in the Machine. We're leaving you here!"

Lesperance seized Travis's arm. "Wait-"

"Stay out of this!" Travis shook his hand away. "This fool nearly killed us. But it isn't that so much, no. It's his shoes! Look at them! He ran off the Path. That ruins us! We'll forfeit! Thousands of dollars of insurance! We guarantee no one leaves the Path. He left it. Oh, the fool! I'll have to report to the government. They might revoke our license to travel. Who knows what he's done to Time, to History!"

"Take it easy, all he did was kick up some dirt."

"How do we know?" cried Travis. "We don't know anything! It's all a mystery! Get out of here, Eckels!"

Eckels fumbled his shirt. "I'll pay anything. A hundred thousand dollars!"

Travis glared at Eckels' checkbook and spat. "Go out there. The Monster's next to the Path. Stick your arms up to your elbows in his mouth. Then you can come back with us."

"That's unreasonable!"

"The Monster's dead, you idiot. The bullets! The bullets can't be left behind. They don't belong in the Past; they might change anything. Here's my knife. Dig them out!"

The jungle was alive again, full of the old tremorings and bird cries. Eckels turned slowly to regard the primeval garbage dump, that hill of nightmares and terror. After a long time, like a sleepwalker he shuffled out along the Path.

He returned, shuddering, five minutes later, his arms soaked and red to the elbows. He held out his hands. Each held a number of steel bullets. Then he fell. He lay where he fell, not moving.

"You didn't have to make him do that," said Lesperance.

"Didn't I? It's too early to tell." Travis nudged the still body. "He'll live. Next time he won't go hunting game like this. Okay." He jerked his thumb wearily at Lesperance. "Switch on. Let's go home."

1492. 1776. 1812.

They cleaned their hands and faces. They changed their caking shirts and pants. Eckels was up and around again, not speaking. Travis glared at him for a full ten minutes.

"Don't look at me," cried Eckels. "I haven't done anything."

"Who can tell?"

"Just ran off the Path, that's all, a little mud on my shoes-what do you want me to do-get down and pray?"

"We might need it. I'm warning you, Eckels, I might kill you yet. I've got my gun ready."

"I'm innocent. I've done nothing!"

1999.2000.2055.

The Machine stopped.

"Get out," said Travis.

The room was there as they had left it. But not the same as they had left it. The same man sat behind the same desk. But the same man did not quite sit behind the same desk. Travis looked around swiftly. "Everything okay here?" he snapped.

"Fine. Welcome home!"

Travis did not relax. He seemed to be looking through the one high window.

"Okay, Eckels, get out. Don't ever come back." Eckels could not move.

"You heard me," said Travis. "What're you staring at?"

Eckels stood smelling of the air, and there was a thing to the air, a chemical taint so subtle, so slight, that only a faint cry of his subliminal senses warned him it was there. The colors, white, gray, blue, orange, in the wall, in the furniture, in the sky beyond the window, were . . . were . . . . And there was a feel. His flesh twitched. His hands twitched. He stood drinking the oddness with the pores of his body. Somewhere, someone must have been screaming one of those whistles that only a dog can hear. His body screamed silence in return. Beyond this room, beyond this wall, beyond this man who was not quite the same man seated at this desk that was not quite the same desk . . . lay an entire world of streets and people. What sort of world it was now, there was no telling. He could feel them moving there, beyond the walls, almost, like so many chess pieces blown in a dry wind ....

But the immediate thing was the sign painted on the office wall, the same sign he had read earlier today on first entering. Somehow, the sign had changed:

TYME SEFARI INC.
SEFARIS TU ANY YEER EN THE PAST.
YU NAIM THE ANIMALL.
WEE TAEK YU THAIR.
YU SHOOT ITT.

Eckels felt himself fall into a chair. He fumbled crazily at the thick slime on his boots. He held up a clod of dirt, trembling, "No, it can't be. Not a little thing like that. No!"

Embedded in the mud, glistening green and gold and black, was a butterfly, very beautiful and very dead.

"Not a little thing like that! Not a butterfly!" cried Eckels.

It fell to the floor, an exquisite thing, a small thing that could upset balances and knock down a line of small dominoes and then big dominoes and then gigantic dominoes, all down the years across Time. Eckels' mind whirled. It couldn't change things. Killing one butterfly couldn't be that important! Could it?

His face was cold. His mouth trembled, asking: "Who - who won the presidential election yesterday?"

The man behind the desk laughed. "You joking? You know very well. Deutscher, of course! Who else? Not that fool weakling Keith. We got an iron man now, a man with guts!" The official stopped. "What's wrong?"

Eckels moaned. He dropped to his knees. He scrabbled at the golden butterfly with shaking fingers. "Can't we," he pleaded to the world, to himself, to the officials, to the Machine, "can't we take it back, can't we make it alive again? Can't we start over? Can't we-"

He did not move. Eyes shut, he waited, shivering. He heard Travis breathe loud in the room; he heard Travis shift his rifle, click the safety catch, and raise the weapon.

There was a sound of thunder.

Comments

And that was that.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 27SEP18.
  2. Completed 30SEP18.
  3. SEO review 1OCT18.

Kaleidoscope (Full Text) A Story by Ray Bradbury

This story was written right after World War II by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law.

“Kaleidoscope” is a science fiction short story by Ray Bradbury. It describes the last few moments of a space ship crew that survives a terrible explosion in space.

Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

Introduction

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “Kaleidoscope” on the “Scary for Kids” website, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the “Scary for Kids” website for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it themselves.

Kaleidoscope by Ray Bradbury

The first concussion cut the rocket up the side with a giant can opener. The men were thrown into space like a dozen wriggling silverfish. They were scattered into a dark sea; and the ship, in a million pieces, went on, a meteor swarm seeking a lost sun.

“Barkley, Barkley, where are you?”

The sound of voices calling like lost children on a cold night

“Woode, Woode!”

“Captain!”

“Hollis, Hollis, this is Stone.”

“Stone, this is Hollis. Where are you?”

“I don’t know. How can I? Which way is up? I’m falling. Good God, I’m falling.”

They fell. They fell as pebbles fall down wells. They were scattered as jackstones are scattered from a gigantic throw. And now instead of men there were only voices-all kinds of voices, disembodied and impassioned, in varying degrees of terror and resignation.

“We’re going away from each other.”

This was true. Hollis, swinging head over heels, knew this was true. He knew it with a vague acceptance. They were parting to go their separate ways, and nothing could bring them back. They were wearing their sealed-tight space suits with the glass tubes over their pale faces, but they hadn’t had time to lock on their force units. With them they could be small lifeboats in space, saving themselves, saving others, collecting together, finding each other until they were an island of men with some plan. But without the force units snapped to their shoulders they were meteors, senseless, each going to a separate and irrevocable fate.

A period of perhaps ten minutes elapsed while the first terror died and a metallic calm took its place. Space began to weave its strange voices in and out, on a great dark loom, crossing, recrossing, making a final pattern.

“Stone to Hollis. How long can we talk by phone?”

“It depends on how fast you’re going your way and I’m going mine.”

“An hour, I make it.”

“That should do it,” said Hollis, abstracted and quiet.

“What happened?” said Hollis a minute later.

“The rocket blew up, that’s all. Rockets do blow up.”

“Which way are you going?”

“It looks like I’ll hit the moon.”

“It’s Earth for me. Back to old Mother Earth at ten thousand miles per hour. I’ll burn like a match.” Hollis thought of it with a queer abstraction of mind. He seemed to be removed from his body, watching it fall down and down through space, as objective as he had been in regard to the first falling snowflakes of a winter season long gone.

The others were silent, thinking of the destiny that had brought them to this, falling, falling, and nothing they could do to change it. Even the captain was quiet, for there was no command or plan he knew that could put things back together again.

“Oh, it’s a long way down. Oh, if s a long way down, a long, long, long way down,” said a voice. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, if s a long way down.”

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stimson, I think. Stimson, is that you?”

“It’s a long, long way and I don’t like it. Oh, God, I don’t like it.”

“Stimson, this is Hollis. Stimson, you hear me?”

A pause while they fell separate from one another.

“Stimson?”

“Yes.” He replied at last.

“Stimson, take it easy; we’re all in the same fix.”

“I don’t want to be here. I want to be somewhere else.”

“There’s a chance we’ll be found.”

“I must be, I must be,” said Stimson. “I don’t believe this; I don’t believe any of this is happening.”

“It’ s a bad dream,” said someone.

“Shut up!” said Hollis.

“Come and make me,” said the voice. It was Applegate. He laughed easily, with a similar objectivity. “Come and shut me up.”

Hollis for the first time felt the impossibility of his position. A great anger filled him, for he wanted more than anything at this moment to be able to do something to Applegate. He had wanted for many years to do something and now it was too late. Applegate was only a telephonic voice.

Falling, falling, falling…

Now, as if they had discovered the horror, two of the men began to scream. In a nightmare Hollis saw one of them float by, very near, screaming and screaming.

“Stop it!” The man was almost at his fingertips, screaming insanely. He would never stop. He would go on screaming for a million miles, as long as he was in radio range, disturbing all of them, making it impossible for them to talk to one another.

Hollis reached out. It was best this way. He made the extra effort and touched the man. He grasped the man’s ankle and pulled himself up along the body until he reached the head. The man screamed and clawed frantically, like a drowning swimmer. The screaming filled the universe.

One way or the other, thought Hollis. The moon or Earth or meteors will kill him, so why not now?

He smashed the man’s glass mask with his iron fist. The screaming stopped. He pushed off from the body and let it spin away on its own course, falling.

Falling, falling down space Hollis and the rest of them went in the long, endless dropping and whirling of silence.

“Hollis, you still there?”

Hollis did not speak, but felt the rush of heat in his face.

“This is Applegate again.”

“All right, Applegate.”

“Let’s talk. We haven’t anything else to do.”

The captain cut in. “That’s enough of that. We’ve got to figure a way out of this.”

“Captain, why don’t you shut up?” said Applegate.

“What!”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t pull your rank on me, you’re ten thousand miles away by now, and let’s s not kid ourselves. As Stimson puts it, it’s a long way down.”

“See here, Applegate!”

“Can it. This is a mutiny of one. I haven’t a damn thing to lose. Your ship was a bad ship and you were a bad captain and I hope you break when you hit the Moon.”

“I’m ordering you to stop!”

“Go on, order me again.” Applegate smiled across ten thousand miles. The captain was silent. Applegate continued, “Where were we, Hollis? Oh yes, I remember. I hate you too. But you know that. You’ve known it for a long time.”

Hollis clenched his fists, helplessly.

“I want to tell you something,” said Applegate. “Make you happy. I was the one who blackballed you with the Rocket Company five years ago.”

A meteor flashed by. Hollis looked down and his left hand was gone. Blood spurted. Suddenly there was no air in his suit He had enough air in his lungs to move his right hand over and twist a knob at his left elbow, tightening the joint and sealing the leak. It had happened so quickly that he was not surprised. Nothing surprised him any more. The air in the suit came back to normal in an instant now that the leak was sealed. And the blood that had flowed so swiftly was pressured as he fastened the knob yet tighter, until it made a tourniquet.

All of this took place in a terrible silence on his part. And the other men chatted. That one man, Lespere, went on and on with his talk about his wife on Mars, his wife on Venus, his wife on Jupiter, his money, his wondrous times, his drunkenness, his gambling, his happiness. On and on, while they all fell. Lespere reminisced on the past, happy, while he fell to his death.

It was so very odd. Space, thousands of miles of space, and these voices vibrating in the center of it. No one visible at all, and only the radio waves quivering and trying to quicken other men into emotion.

“Are you angry, Hollis?”

“No.” And he was not. The abstraction has returned and he was a thing of dull concrete, forever falling nowhere.

“You wanted to get to the top all your life, Hollis. You always wondered what happened. I put the black mark on you just before I was tossed out myself.”

“That isn’t important,” said Hollis. And it was not. It was gone. When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illumined for an instant on space, and before you could cry out, “There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one,” the film burned to a cinder, the screen went dark.

From this outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse, and that was only that he wished to go on living. Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived? Did life seem that short, indeed, over and done before you took a breath? Did it seem this abrupt and impossible to everyone, or only to himself, here, now, with a few hours left to him for thought and deliberation?

One of the other men, Lespere, was talking. “Well, I had me a good time: I had a wife on Mars, Venus, and Jupiter. Each of them had money and treated me swell. I got drunk and once I gambled away twenty thousand dollars.”

But you’re here now, thought Hollis. I didn’t have any of those things. When I was living I was jealous of you, Lespere; when I had another day ahead of me I envied you your women and your good times. Women frightened me and I went into space, always wanting them and jealous of you for having them, and money, and as much happiness as you could have in your own wild way. But now, falling here, with everything over, I’m not jealous of you any more, because if s over for you as it is for me, and right now if s like it never was. Hollis craned his face forward and shouted into the telephone. “If s all over, Lespere!”

Silence.

“If s just as if it never was, Lespere!”

“Who’s that?” Lespere’s faltering voice.

“This is Hollis.”

He was being mean. He felt the meanness, the senseless meanness of dying. Applegate had hurt him; now he wanted to hurt another. Applegate and space had both wounded him.

“You’re out here, Lespere. If s all over. It’s just as if it had never happened, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“When anything’s over, it’s just like it never happened. Where’s your life any better than mine, now? Now is what counts. Is it any better? Is it?”

“Yes, it’s better!”

“How!”

“Because I got my thoughts, I remember!” cried Lespere, far away, indignant, holding his memories to his chest with both hands.

And he was right. With a feeling of cold water rushing through his head and body, Hollis knew he was right. There were differences between memories and dreams. He had only dreams of things he had wanted to do, while Lespere had memories of things done and accomplished. And this knowledge began to pull Hollis apart, with a slow, quivering precision.

“What good does it do you?” he cried to Lespere. “Now? When a thing’s over it’s not good any more. You’re no better off than I.”

“I’m resting easy,” said Lespere. “I’ve had my turn. I’m not getting mean at the end, like you.”

“Mean?” Hollis turned the word on his tongue. He had never been mean, as long as he could remember, in his life. He had never dared to be mean. He must have saved it all of these years for such a time as this. “Mean.” He rolled the word into the back of his mind. He felt tears start into his eyes and roll down his face. Someone must have heard his gasping voice.

‘Take it easy, Hollis.”

It was, of course, ridiculous. Only a minute before he had been giving advice to others, to Stimson; he had felt a braveness which he had thought to be the genuine thing, and now he knew that it had been nothing but shock and the objectivity possible in shock. Now he was trying to pack a lifetime of suppressed emotion into an interval of minutes.

“I know how you feel, Hollis,” said Lespere, now twenty thousand miles away, his voice fading. “I don’t take it personally.”

But aren’t we equal? he wondered. Lespere and I? Here, now? If a thing’s over, if s done, and what good is it? You die anyway. But he knew he was rationalizing, for it was like trying to tell the difference between a live man and a corpse. There was a spark in one, and not in the other – an aura, a mysterious element.

So it was with Lespere and himself; Lespere had lived a good full life, and it made him a different man now, and he, Hollis, had been as good as dead for many years. They came to death by separate paths and, in all likelihood, if there were lands of death, their kinds would be as different as night from day. The quality of death, like that of life, must be of an infinite variety, and if one has already died once, then what was there to look for in dying for good and all, as he was now?

It was a second later that he discovered his right foot was cut sheer away. It almost made him laugh. The air was gone from his suit again. He bent quickly, and there was blood, and the meteor had taken flesh and suit away to the ankle. Oh, death in space was most humorous. It cut you away, piece by piece, like a black and invisible butcher. He tightened the valve at the knee, his head whirling into pain, fighting to remain aware, and with the valve tightened, the blood retained, the air kept, he straightened op and went on falling, falling, for that was all there was left to do.

“Hollis?”

Hollis nodded sleepily, tired of waiting for death.

“This is Applegate again,” said the voice.

“Yes.”

‘I’ve had time to think. I listened to you. This isn’t good. It makes us bad. This is a bad way to die. It brings all the bile out. You listening, Hollis?”

“Yes.”

“I lied. A minute ago. I lied. I didn’t blackball you. I don’t know why I said that. Guess I wanted to hurt you. You seemed the one to hurt. We’ve always fought Guess I’m getting old fast and repenting fast I guess listening to you be mean made me ashamed. Whatever the reason, I want you to know I was an idiot too. There’s not an ounce of truth in what I said. To hell with you.”

Hollis felt his heart begin to work again. It seemed as if it hadn’t worked for five minutes, but now all of his limbs began to take color and warmth. The shock was over, and the successive shocks of anger and terror and loneliness were passing. He felt like a man emerging from a cold shower in the morning, ready for breakfast and a new day.

“Thanks, Applegate.”

“Don’t mention it. Up your nose, you bastard.”

“Hey,” said Stone.

“What?” Hollis called across space; for Stone, of all of them, was a good friend.

“I’ve got myself into a meteor swarm, some little asteroids.”

“Meteors?”

“I think it’s the Myrmidone cluster that goes out past Mars and in toward Earth once every five years. I’m right in the middle. If s like a big kaleidoscope. You get all kinds of colors and shapes and sizes. God, if s beautiful, all that metal.”

Silence.

“I’m going with them,” said Stone. “They’re taking me off with them. I’ll be damned.” He laughed.

Hollis looked to see, but saw nothing. There were only the great diamonds and sapphires and emerald mists and velvet inks of space, with God’s voice mingling among the crystal fires. There was a kind of wonder and imagination in the thought of Stone going off in the meteor swarm, out past Mars for years and coming in toward Earth every five years, passing in and out of the planet’s ken for the next million centuries. Stone and the Myrmidone cluster eternal and unending, shifting and shaping like the kaleidoscope colors when you were a child and held the long tube to the sun and gave it a twirl.

“So long, Hollis.” Stone’s voice, very faint now. “So long.”

“Good luck,” shouted Hollis across thirty thousand miles.

“Don’t be funny,” said Stone, and was gone.

The stars closed in.

Now all the voices were fading, each on his own trajectory, some to Mars, others into farthest space. And Hollis himself… He looked down. He, of all the others, was going back to Earth alone.

“So long.”

“Take it easy.”

“So long, Hollis.” That was Applegate.

The many good-bys. The short farewells. And now the great loose brain was disintegrating. The components of the brain which had worked so beautifully and efficiently in the skull case of the rocket ship firing through space were dying one by one; the meaning of their life together was falling apart. And as a body dies when the brain ceases functioning, so the spirit of the ship and their long time together and what they meant to one another was dying. Applegate was now no more than a finger blown from the parent body, no longer to be despised and worked against. The brain was exploded, and the senseless, useless fragments of it were far scattered. The voices faded and now all of space was silent. Hollis was alone, falling.

They were all alone. Their voices had died like echoes of the words of God spoken and vibrating in the starred deep. There went the captain to the Moon; there Stone with the meteor swarm; there Stimson; there Applegate toward Pluto; there Smith and Turner and Underwood and all the rest, the shards of the kaleidoscope that had formed a thinking pattern for so long, hurled apart.

And I? thought Hollis. What can I do? Is there anything I can do now to make up for a terrible and empty life? If only I could do one good thing to make up for the meanness I collected all these years and didn’t even know was in me! But there’s no one here but myself, and how can you do good all alone? You can’t. Tomorrow night I’ll hit Earth s atmosphere.

I’ll burn, he thought, and be scattered in ashes all over the continental lands. I’ll be put to use. Just a little bit, but ashes are ashes and they’ll add to the land.

He fell swiftly, like a bullet, like a pebble, like an iron weight, objective, objective all of the time now, not sad or happy or anything, but only wishing he could do a good thing now that everything was gone, a good thing for just himself to know about.

When I hit the atmosphere, I’ll burn like a meteor.

“I wonder,” he said, “if anyone’ll see me?”

The small boy on the country road looked up and screamed. “Look, Mom, look! A falling star!”

The blazing white star fell down the sky of dusk in Illinois. “Make a wish,” said his mother. “Make a wish.”

Comments

I really enjoyed this story. It’s a little sad when we know that people have died in space and that space is really very unforgiving. If the reader enjoyed this story, then I would suggest reading “The cold equations”.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Released 28SEP18.

Dark They Were and Golden Eyed (Full Text) by Ray Bradbury

This story was written right after World War II by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law.

“Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed” is a science fiction short story by Ray Bradbury. It was originally published in the magazine Thrilling Wonder Stories in August 1949, under the title “The Naming of Names”. It was subsequently included in the short-story collections A Medicine for Melancholy and S is for Space. The story takes place in the near future on Mars, as is the case with many of Bradbury’s stories.

Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

Introduction

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…”

R is for Rocket

Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “Dark they were and Golden Eyed” on the Ray Bradbury library portal in Russia, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it themselves.

Dark They were, And Golden Eyed (The Naming of Names).

By Ray Bradbury

The rocket's metal cooled in the meadow winds. Its lid gave a bulging pop. From its clock interior stepped a man, a woman, and three children. The other passengers whispered away across the Martian meadow, leaving the man alone among his family.

The man felt his hair flutter and the tissues of his body draw tight as if he were standing at the centre of a vacuum. His wife, before him, trembled. The children, small seeds, might at any instant be sown to all the Martian climes. The children looked up at him. His face was cold. "What's wrong?" asked his wife. "Let's get back on the rocket." "Go back to Earth?" "Yes! Listen!"

The wind blew, whining. At any moment the Martian air might draw his soul from him, as marrow comes from a white bone.

He looked at Martian hills that time had worn with a crushing pressure of years. He saw the old cities, lost and lying like children's delicate bones among the blowing lakes of grass.

"Chin up, Harry," said his wife. "It's too late. We've come at least sixty-five million miles or more."

The children with their yellow hair hollered at the deep dome of Martian sky. There was no answer but the racing hiss of wind through the stiff grass.

He picked up the luggage in his cold hands. "Here we go," he said - a man standing on the edge of a sea, ready to wade in and be drowned.

They walked into town.

Their name was Bittering. Harry and his wife Cora; Tim, Laura, and David. They built a small white cottage and ate good breakfasts there, but the fear was never gone. It lay with Mr.Bittering and Mrs.Bittering, a third unbidden partner at every midnight talk, at every dawn awakening.

"I feel like a salt crystal," he often said, "in a mountain stream, being washed away. We don't belong here. We're Earth people. This is Mars. It was meant for Martians. For heaven's sake, Cora, let's buy tickets for home!"

But she only shook her head. "One day the atom bomb will fix Earth. Then we'll be safe here." "Safe and insane!"

Tick-took, seven o'clock sang the voice clock; time to get up. And they did.

Something made him check everything each morning - warm hearth, potted blood-geraniums - precisely as if he expected something to be amiss. The morning paper was toast-warm from the six a.m. Earth rocket. He broke its seal and tilted it at his breakfast plate. He forced himself to be convivial.

"Colonial days all over again," he declared. "Why, in another year there'll be a million Earthmen on Mars. Big cities, everything! They said we'd fail. Said the Martians would resent our invasion. But did we find any Martians? Not a living soul! Oh, we found their empty cities, but no one in them. Right?"

A river of wind submerged the house. When the windows ceased rattling, Mr.Bittering swallowed and looked at the children.

"I don't know," said David. "Maybe there're Martians around we don't see. Sometimes nights I think I hear 'em. I hear the wind. The sand hits my window. I get scared. And I see those towns way up in the mountains where the Martians lived a long ago. And I think I see things moving around those towns, Papa. And I wonder if those Martians mind us living here. I wonder if they won't do something to us for coming here."

"Nonsense!" Mr.Bittering looked out of the windows. "We're clean, decent people." He looked at his children. "All dead cities have some kind of ghosts in them. Memories, I mean." He stared at the hills. "You see a staircase and you wonder what Martians looked like climbing it. You see Martian paintings and you wonder what the painter was like. You make a little ghost in your mind, a memory. It's quite natural. Imagination." He stopped. "You haven't been prowling up in those ruins, have you?"

"No, Papa." David looked at his shoes.

"See that you stay away from them. Pass the jam."

"Just the same," said little David, "I bet something happens."

Something happened that afternoon.

Laura stumbled through the settlement, crying. She dashed blindly on to the porch.

"Mother, Father - the war, Earth!" she sobbed. "A radio flash just came. Atom bombs hit New York! All the space rockets blown up. No more rockets to Mars, ever!"

"Oh, Harry!" The mother held on to her husband and daughter.

"Are you sure, Laura?" asked the father quietly.

Laura wept. "We're stranded on Mars, for ever and ever!"

For a long time there was only the sound of the wind in the late afternoon.

Alone, thought Bittering. Only a thousand of us here. No way back. No way. No way. Sweat poured from his face and his hands and his body; he was drenched in the hot-ness of his fear. He wanted to strike Laura, cry, "No, you're lying! The rockets will come back!" Instead, he stroked Laura's head against him and said, "The rockets will get through, some day."

"In five years maybe. It takes that long to build one. Father, Father, what will we do?"

"Go about our business, of course. Raise crops and children. Wait. Keep things going until the war ends and the rockets come again."

The two boys stepped out on to the porch. "Children," he said, sitting there, looking beyond them, "I've something to tell you." "We know," they said.

Bittering wandered into the garden to stand alone in his fear. As long as the rockets had spun a silver web across space, he had been able to accept Mars. For he had always told himself: 'Tomorrow, if I want, I can buy a ticket and go back to Earth.'

But now: the web gone, the rockets lying in jigsaw heaps of molten girder and unsnaked wire. Earth people left to the strangeness of Mars, the cinnamon dusts and wine airs, to be baked like gingerbread shapes in Martian summers, put into harvested storage by Martian winters. What would happen to him, the others? This was the moment Mars had waited for. Now it would eat them.

He got down on his knees in the flower bed, a spade in his nervous hands. Work, he thought, work and forget.

He glanced up from the garden to the Martian mountains. He thought of the proud old Martian names that had once been on those peaks. Earthmen, dropping from the sky, had gazed upon hills, rivers, Martian seas left nameless in spite of names. Once Martians had built cities, named cities; climbed mountains, named mountains; sailed seas, named seas. Mountains melted, seas drained, cities tumbled. In spite of this, the Earthmen had felt a silent guilt at putting new names to these ancient hills and valleys.

Nevertheless, man lives by symbol and label. The names were given.

Mr.Bittering felt very alone in his garden under the Martian sun, bent here, planting Earth flowers in a wild soil.

Think. Keep thinking. Different things. Keep your mind free of Earth, the atom war, the lost rockets.

He perspired. He glanced about. No one watching. He removed his tie. Pretty bold, he thought. First your coat off, now your tie. He hung it neatly on a peach tree he had imported as a sapling from Massachusetts.

He returned to his philosophy of names and mountains. The Earthmen had changed names. Now there were Hormel Valleys, Roosevelt Seas, Ford Hills, Vanderbilt Plateaus, Rockefeller Rivers, on Mars. It wasn't right. The American settlers had shown wisdom, using old Indian prairie names: Wisconsin, Minnesota, Idaho, Ohio, Utah, Milwaukee, Waukegan, Osseo. The old names, the old meanings.

Staring at the mountains wildly he thought: 'Are you up there? All the dead ones, you Martians? Well, here we are, alone, cut off! Come down, move us out! We're helpless!'

The wind blew a shower of peach blossoms.

He put out his sun-browned hand, gave a small cry. He touched the blossoms, picked them up. He turned them, be touched them again and again. Then he shouted for his wife.

"Cora!"

She appeared at a window. He ran to her.

"Cora, these blossoms!"

She handled them.

"Do you see? They're different. They've changed! They're not peach blossoms any more!"

"Look all right to me," she said.

"They're not. They're wrong! I can't tell how. An extra petal, a leaf, something, the colour, the smell!"

The children ran out in time to see their father hurrying about the garden, pulling up radishes, onions, and carrots from their beds.

"Cora, come look!

They handled the onions, the radishes, the carrots among them.

"Do they look like carrots?"

"Yes... No." She hesitated. "I don't know."

"They're changed."

"Perhaps."

"You know they have! Onions but not onions, carrots but not carrots. Taste: the same but different. Smell: not like it used to be." He felt his heart pounding, and he was afraid. He dug his fingers into the earth. "Cora, what's happening? What is it? We've got to get away from this." He ran across the garden. Each tree felt his touch. "The roses. The roses. They're turning green!"

And they stood looking at the green roses.

And two days later, Tim came running. "Come see the cow. I was milking her and I saw it. Come on!"

They stood in the shed and looked at their one cow.

It was growing a third horn.

And the lawn in front of their house very quietly and slowly was colouring itself, like spring violets. Seed from Earth but growing up a soft purple.

"We must get away," said Bittering. "We'll eat this stuff and then we'll change - who knows to what. I can't let it happen. There's only one thing to do. Burn this food!"

"It's not poisoned."

"But it is. Subtly, very subtly. A little bit. A very little bit. We mustn't touch it."

He looked with dismay at their house. "Even the house. The wind's done something to it. The air's burned it. The fog at night. The boards, all warped out of shape. It's not an Earthman's house any more."

"Oh, your imagination!"

He put on his coat and tie. "I'm going into town. We've got to do something now. I'll be back."

"Wait, Harry!" his wife cried.

But he was gone.

In town, on the shadowy step of the grocery store, the men sat with their hands on their knees, conversing with great leisure and ease.

Mr.Bittering wanted to fire a pistol in the air.

What are you doing, you fools! he thought. Sitting here! You've heard the news - we're stranded on this planet. Well, move! Aren't you frightened? Aren't you afraid? What are you going to do?

"Hello, Harry," said everyone.

"Look," he said to them. "You did hear the news, the other day, didn't you?"

They nodded and laughed. "Sure. Sure, Harry."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Do, Harry, do? What can we do?"

"Build a rocket, that's what!"

"A rocket, Harry? To go back to all that trouble? Oh, Harry!"

"But you must want to go back. Have you noticed the peach blossoms, the onions, the grass?"

"Why, yes, Harry, seems we did," said one of the men.

"Doesn't it scare you?"

"Can't recall that it did much, Harry."

"Idiots!"

"Now, Harry."

Bittering wanted to cry. "You've got to work with me. If we stay here, we'll all change. The air. Don't you smell it? Something in the air. A Martian virus, maybe; some seed, or a pollen. Listen to me!"

They stared at him.

"Sam," he said to one of them.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Will you help me build a rocket?"

"Harry, I got a whole load of metal and some blueprints. You want to work in my metal shop, on a rocket, you're welcome. I'll sell you that metal for five hundred dollars. You should be able to construct a right pretty rocket if you work alone, in about thirty years."

Everyone laughed.

"Don't laugh."

Sam looked at him with quiet good humour.

"Sam," Bittering said. "Your eyes -"

"What about them, Harry?"

"Didn't they used to be grey?"

"Well, now, I don't remember."

"They were, weren't they?"

"Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Because now they're kind of yellow-coloured."

"Is that so, Harry?" Sam said, casually.

"And you're taller and thinner -"

"You might be right, Harry."

"Sam, you shouldn't have yellow eyes."

"Harry, what colour eyes have you got?" Sam said.

"My eyes? They're blue, of course."

"Here you are, Harry." Sam handed him a pocket mirror. "Take a look at yourself."

Mr.Bittering hesitated, and then raised the mirror to his face.

There were little, very dim flecks of new gold captured in the blue of his eyes.

"Now look what you've done," said Sam, a moment later. "You've broken my mirror."

Harry Bittering moved into the metal shop and began to build the rocket. Men stood in the open door and talked and joked without raising their voices. Once in a while they gave him a hand on lifting something. But mostly they just idled and watched him with their yellowing eyes.

"It's supper-time, Harry," they said.

His wife appeared with his supper in a wicker basket.

"I won't touch it," he said. "I'll eat only food from our deepfreeze. Food that came from Earth. Nothing from our garden."

His wife stood watching him. "You can't build a rocket."

"I worked in a shop once, when I was twenty. I know metal. Once I get it started, the others will help," he said, not looking at her, laying out the blueprints.

"Harry, Harry," she said, helplessly.

"We've got to get away, Cora. We've got to!"

The nights were full of wind that blew down the empty moonlit sea-meadows past the little white chess cities lying for their twelve-thousandth year in the shallows. In the Earthmen's settlement, the Bittering house shook with a feeling of change.

Lying abed, Mr.Bittering felt his bones shifted, shaped, melted like gold. His wife, lying beside him, was dark from many sunny afternoons. Dark she was, and golden, burnt almost black by the sun, sleeping, and the children metallic in their beds, and the wind roaring forlorn and changing through the old peach trees, violet grass, shaking out green rose petals.

The fear would not be stopped. It had his throat and heart. It dripped in a wetness of the arm and the temple and the trembling palm.

A green star rose in the east.

A strange word emerged from Mr.Bittering's lips.

"Iorrt. Iorrt." He repeated it.

It was a Martian word. He knew no Martian.

In the middle of the night he arose and dialled a call through to Simpson, the archaeologist.

"Simpson, what does the word 'Iorrt' mean?"

"Why that's the old Martian word for our planet Earth. Why?"

"No special reason."

The telephone slipped from his hand.

"Hello, hello, hello, hello," it kept saying while he sat gazing out at the green star. "Bittering? Harry, are you there?"

The days were full of metal sound. He laid the frame of the rocket with the reluctant help of three indifferent men. He grew very tired in an hour or so and had to sit down.

"The altitude," laughed a man.

"Are you eating, Harry?" asked another.

"I'm eating," he said, angrily,

"From your deep-freeze?"

"Yes!"

"You're getting thinner, Harry."

"I'm not!"

"And taller."

"Liar!"

His wife took him aside a few days later. "Harry, I've used up all the food in the deep-freeze. There's nothing left. I'll have to make sandwiches using food grown on Mars."

He sat down heavily.

"You must eat," she said. "You're weak."

"Yes," he said.

He took a sandwich, opened it, looked at it, and began to nibble at it.

"And take the rest of the day off," she said. "It's hot. The children want to swim in the canals and hike. Please come along."

"I can't waste time. This is a crisis!" "Just for an hour," she urged. "A swim'll do you good." He rose, sweating. "All right, all right. Leave me alone. I'll come."

"Good for you, Harry."

The sun was hot, the day quiet. There was only an immense staring burn upon the land. They moved along the canal, the father, the mother, the racing children in their swimsuits. They stopped and ate meat sandwiches. He saw their skin baking brown. And he saw the yellow eyes of his wife and his children, their eyes that were never yellow before. A few tremblings shook him, but were carried off in waves of pleasant heat as he lay in the sun. He was too tired to be afraid.

"Cora, how long have your eyes been yellow?" She was bewildered. "Always, I guess." "They didn't change from brown in the last three months?"

She bit her lips. "No. Why do you ask?" "Nevermind." They sat there.

"The children's eyes," he said. "They're yellow, too." "Sometimes growing children's eyes change colour." "Maybe we're children, too. At least to Mars. That's a thought." He laughed. "Think I'll swim."

They leaped into the canal water, and he let himself sink down and down to the bottom like a golden statue and lie there in green silence. All was water, quiet and deep, all was peace. He felt the steady, slow current drift him easily.

If I lie here long enough, he thought, the water will work and eat away my flesh until the bones show like coral. Just my skeleton left. And then the water can build on that skeleton - green things, deep-water things, red things, yellow things. Change. Change. Slow, deep, silent change. And isn't that what it is up there!

He saw the sky submerged above him, the sun made Martian by atmosphere and time and space.

Up there, a big river, he thought, a Martian river, all of us lying deep in it, in our pebble houses, in our sunken boulder houses, like crayfish hidden, and the water washing away our old bodies and lengthening the bones and -

He let himself drift up through the soft light.

Tim sat on the edge of the canal, regarding his father seriously.

"Utha," he said.

"What?" asked his father.

The boy smiled. "You know. Utha's the Martian word for 'father'."

"Where did you learn it?"

"I don't know. Around. Utha!"

"What do you want?"

The boy hesitated. "I - I want to change my name."

"Change it?"

"Yes."

His mother swam over. "What's wrong with Tim for a name?"

Tim fidgeted. "The other day you called Tim, Tim, Tim. I didn't even hear. I said to myself, That's not my name. I've a new name I want to use."

Mr.Bittering held to the side of the canal, his body cold and his heart pounding slowly. "What is this new name?" "Linnl. Isn't that a good name? Can I use it? Can I, please?"

Mr.Bittering put his hand to his head. He thought of the rocket, himself working alone, himself alone even among his family, so alone.

He heard his wife say, "Why not?" He heard himself say, "Yes, you can use it." "Yaaa!" screamed the boy. "I'm Linnl, Linnl!" Racing down the meadowlands, he danced and shouted. Mr.Bittering looked at his wife. "Why did we do that?" "I don't know," she said. "It just seemed like a good idea."

They walked into the hills. They strolled on old mosaic paths, beside still-pumping fountains. The paths were covered with a thin film of cool water all summer long. You kept your bare feet cool all the day, splashing as in a creek, wading.

They came to a small deserted Martian villa with a good view of the valley. It was on top of a hill. Blue-marble halls, large murals, a swimming-pool. It was refreshing in this hot summer-time. The Martians hadn't believed in large cities.

"How nice," said Mrs.Bittering, "if you could move up here to this villa for the summer."

"Come on," he said. "We're going back to town. There's work to be done on the rocket."

But as he worked that night, the thought of the cool bluemarble villa entered his mind. As the hours passed, the rocket seemed less important.

In the flow of days and weeks, the rocket receded and dwindled. The old fever was gone. It frightened him to think he had let it slip this way. But somehow the heat, the air, the working conditions - he heard the men murmuring on the porch of his metal shop.

"Everyone's going. You heard?"

"All right. That's right."

Bittering came out. "Going where?" He saw a couple of trucks, loaded with children and furniture, drive down the dusty street.

"Up to the villa," said the man.

"Yeah, Harry. I'm going. So is Sam. Aren't you, Sam?"

"That's right, Harry. What about you?"

"I've got work to do here."

"Work! You can finish that rocket in the autumn, when it's cooler."

He took a breath. "1 got the frame all set up."

"In the autumn is better." Their voices were lazy in the heat.

"Got to work," he said.

"Autumn," they reasoned. And they sounded so sensible, so right.

"Autumn would be best," he thought. "Plenty of time, then."

No! cried part of himself, deep down, put away, locked tight, suffocating. No! No! "In the autumn," he said. "Come on, Harry," they all said.

"Yes," he said, feeling his flesh melt in the hot liquid air. "Yes, the autumn. I'll begin work again then." "I got a villa near the Tirra Canal," said someone. "You mean the Roosevelt Canal, don't you?" "Tirra. The old Martian name."

"But on the map -"

"Forget the map. It's Tirra now. Now I found a place in the Pillan mountains -"

"You mean the Rockefeller range," said Bittering.

"I mean the Pillan mountains," said Sam.

"Yes," said Bittering, buried in the hot, swarming air. "The Pillan mountains."

Everyone worked at loading the truck in the hot, still afternoon of the next day.

Laura, Tim, and David carried packages. Or, as they preferred to be known, Ttil, Linnl, and Werr carried packages.

The furniture was abandoned in the little white cottage.

"It looked just fine in Boston," said the mother. "And here in the cottage. But up at the villa? No. We'll get it when we come back in the autumn."

Bittering himself was quiet.

"I've some ideas on furniture for the villa," he said, after a time. "Big, lazy furniture."

"What about your Encyclopedia! You're taking it along, surely?"

Mr.Bittering glanced away. "I'll come and get it next week."

They turned to their daughter. "What about your New York dresses?"

The bewildered girl stared. "Why, I don't want them any more."

They shut off the gas, the water, they locked the doors and walked away. Father peered into the truck.

"Gosh, we're not taking much," he said. "Considering all we brought to Mars, this is only a handful!"

He started the truck.

Looking at the small white cottage for a long moment, he was filled with a desire to rush to it, touch it, say goodbye to it, for he felt as if he were going away on a long journey, leaving something to which he could never quite return, never understand again.

Just then Sam and his family drove by in another truck.

"Hi, Bittering! Here we go!"

The truck swung down the ancient highway out of town. There were sixty others travelling the same direction. The town filled with a silent, heavy dust from their passage. The canal waters lay blue in the sun, and a quiet wind moved in the strange trees.

"Good-bye, town!" said Mr.Bittering.

"Good-bye, good-bye," said the family, waving to it.

They did not look back again.

Summer burned the canals dry. Summer moved like flame upon the meadows. In the empty Earth settlement, the painted houses flaked and peeled. Rubber tyres upon which children had swung in back yards hung suspended like stopped clock pendulums in the blazing air.

At the metal shop, the rocket frame began to rust.

In the quiet autumn, Mr.Bittering stood, very dark now, very golden-eyed, upon the slope above his villa, looking at the valley.

"It's time to go back," said Cora.

"Yes, but we're not going," he said, quietly. "There's nothing there any more."

"Your books," she said. "Your fine clothes."

"Your Illes and your fine ior uele rre," she said.

"The town's empty. No one's going back," he said. "There's no reason to, none at all."

The daughter wove tapestries and the sons played songs on ancient flutes and pipes, their laughter echoing in the marble villa.

Mr.Bittering gazed at the Earth settlement far away in the low valley. "Such odd, such ridiculous houses the Earth people built."

"They didn't know any better," his wife mused. "Such ugly People. I'm glad they've gone."

They both looked at each other, startled by all they had just finished saying. They laughed.

"Where did they go?" he wondered. He glanced at his wife. She was golden and slender as his daughter. She looked at him, and he seemed almost as young as their eldest son.

"I don't know," she said.

"We'll go back to town maybe next year, or the year after, or the year after that," he said, calmly. "Now - I'm warm. How about taking a swim?"

They turned their backs to the valley. Arm in arm they walked silently down a path of clear running spring water.

Five years later, a rocket fell out of the sky. It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting.

"We won the war on Earth! We're here to rescue you! Hey!"

But the American-built town of cottages, peach trees, and theatres was silent. They found a half-finished rocket frame, rusting in an empty shop.

The rocket men searched the hills. The captain established headquarters in an abandoned bar. His lieutenant came back to report.

"The town's empty, but we found native life in the hills, sir. Dark people. Yellow eyes. Martians. Very friendly. We talked a bit, not much. They learn English fast. I'm sure our relations will be most friendly with them, sir."

"Dark, eh?" mused the captain. "How many?"

"Six, eight hundred, I'd say, living in those marble ruins in the hills, sir. Tall, healthy. Beautiful women."

"Did they tell you what became of the men and women who built this Earth settlement, Lieutenant?"

"They hadn't the foggiest notion of what happened to this town or its people."

"Strange. You think those Martians killed them?"

"They look surprisingly peaceful. Chances are a plague did this town in, sir."

"Perhaps. I suppose this is one of those mysteries we'll never solve. One of those mysteries you read about."

The captain looked at the room, the dusty windows, the blue mountains rising beyond, the canals moving in the light, and he heard the soft wind in the air. He shivered. Then, recovering, he tapped a large fresh map he had thumb-tacked to the top of an empty table.

"Lots to be done, Lieutenant." His voice droned on and quietly on as the sun sank behind the blue hills. "New settlements. Mining sites, minerals to be looked for. Bacteriological specimens taken. The work, all the work. And the old records were lost. We'll have a job of remapping to do, renaming the mountains and rivers and such. Calls for a little imagination."

"What do you think of naming those mountains the Lincoln Mountains, this canal the Washington Canal, those hills - we can name those hills for you, Lieutenant. Diplomacy. And you, for a favour, might name a town for me. Polishing the apple. And why not make this the Einstein Valley, and further over... are you listening, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant snapped his gaze from the blue colour and the quiet mist of the hills far beyond the town.

"What? Oh, yes, sir!"

Conclusion

I do not remember when I first read this story, but I am pretty sure that I was in my early teens. Sometime around 1972 or so, I picked up a paperback without a cover and started to read it. I became enraptured with the book, and brought it home where I scarfed up every juicy morsel inside of it.

I later, cut the brown cardboard backing from a note pad and taped it to the front of the book, making an ugly, but functional cover. Carefully, I wrote the the title of the work “The Martian Chronicles” using a very yellow Bic Banana pen on the cover. Under it, I printed “By Ray Bradbury”.

Bookstores would often get credit for books that they could not sell. To do this, they would tear off the front covers and send them back to the publisher for credit. Behind the bookstores would be bins full of discarded paperback books. Though finding one that you would be interested in was remarkably difficult. You had to go through a couple of hundred books that could represent anything from romance novels, to Westerns, to books on the surviving the future snowball earth as a consequence of global freezing.

Global freezing
During the 1970’s there was a big push to fund efforts to prevent global cooling. I would attend school and we would go out and clean up the neighborhood, and go on fund raising drives to collect money for the cause. The money would be collected in huge apple baskets. There was so much money collected. Baskets and baskets of donated money to prevent global cooling. Now, I don’t know what ever happened to the money. But, I am sure that someone took it and spent it in some way. Anyways, afterwards, we would eat hotdogs at a barn-fire, and sing songs. Typical songs were “If I had a hammer”, and kumbaya.

What I would do is crawl up and into the huge metal dumpster, and dig through boxes and debris to get to the books.

You could get an inkling of what the book’s content would be by looking at the back cover, but it was typically a difficult endeavor. However, for a young boy, who liked to read, climb in and out of dumpsters and get into trouble, it was like mining a treasure trove.

I would typically find four or five books of interest and throw them into my backpack / satchel (that I got at an Army Surplus store) and ride my banana-seat bicycle home. Once at the house, I could read the books at leisure, and out of the collection, I might end up keeping two or three and tossing the rest.

I was the perpetual scavenger. From lost golf balls at the local golf club to digging through the rocks at the nearby pool to look for fossils. My bed room was a collection of all sorts of junk that I would lug home. I had everything from arrowheads to piles of “Mad Magazine”, and “Treasure Magazines” stacked up in the corner. My room had model airplanes hanging from the ceiling by string, to old maps that I liberated out of the ceiling rafters of an old car garage.

I was a typical boy, and Ray Bradberry was a major influence on my life.

Take Aways

  • Ray Bradbury wrote the short story “Dark they were and golden eyed”.
  • His works greatly influenced me was a young boy into my early teens.
  • He contributed to my desire to study aerospace engineering, become a pilot in the Navy, and join MAJestic.
  • His stories are not to be studied, they are to be enjoyed.

FAQ

Q:  What would you do after you read science fiction stories?
A: Typically, I would read at the house. I was a big fan of reading while I was in the bathroom. I would read on both the toilet and while soaking in the tub. I would read in my tree house, or on my bed, or in the living room. I would read on the porch, or in the car while my father was driving us about. I read everywhere.

However, when I wasn’t reading I was typically out walking or hiking. We had various spur lines for the coal-hauling railroad all around us. They would wind in and out of the hills. I would walk those railroad tracks. Often I would walk on top like a balance beam. If a train was near, I would pull out a penny to squash on the track. I would also pick up some of the millions of little black marble-sized dirty balls that were everywhere and throw them into the bushes or into the nearby river. Sometimes I would take out my trusty (blue) cub-scout knife and cut some branches off of a beech tree and chew on the branches as I walked.

I often would walk alone and ponder my life. I might go with a friend or two, or my trusty dog Belle (she was a Siberian Husky). We would walk the spurs and climb the hills. We would talk about televisions shows, the local football game, and things that mattered to us.

Q: Should Ray Bradbury and his works be taught in school?
A: Yes and no. Stories by Bradbury are not something that can used to achieve grades. It is something that has to be absorbed. Therefore, I believe that everyone should be exposed to his work, but it should not be used as a study aid. It’s like pizza. Many people like it, but not everyone. You can study how to make a pizza, but the best thing and the best utility for pizza is to eat it.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 26SEP18.
  2. Completed 28SEP18.
  3. SEO Review 28SEP18.
  4. Published 28SEP18.

The Rocket (Full Text) A Story by Ray Bradbury

This story was written right after World War II by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law.

The Rocket” is a Science fiction short story (initially published under the name “Outcast of the Stars”) by American writer Ray Bradbury. It is also included in The Illustrated Man, a collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury.

Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

When Ray started out, the field of science fiction lacked respectability, to say the least. It was the province of the pulps: magazines printed on cheap paper, with lurid covers designed to catch the attention of immature boys. 

He was often dismissed, if not outright ridiculed, by mainstream writers, but quickly learned to ignore his critics. If they didn’t think rockets and dinosaurs were suitable subjects for literature, to hell with them. 

Ray loved that stuff, along with Martians and witches and things that go bump in the night, so that’s what he wrote about. His unique imagination was harnessed within vivid, lyrical prose, and after the publication of The Martian Chronicles in 1950, the literary elite were forced to acknowledge a striking new talent.

As Ray’s stories became more widely published and read, they fueled the imaginations of millions of young people over several generations, many of whom went on to cite his influence as a major reason they became scientists and engineers. 

His stories practically shouted that it wasn’t just okay to dream of rockets and space travel, it was wonderful, mythic, imperative—the highest accomplishment the human race could aspire to.

-The Space Review's tribute to Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradberry 1
I will ride up into space, into the stars…someday.

Introduction

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…”

R is for Rocket

Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradberry books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradberry books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “The Rocket” on the Ray Bradbury library portal in Russia, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.

The Rocket by Ray Bradbury

Many nights Fiorello Bodoni would awaken to hear the rockets sighing in the dark sky. He would tiptoe from bed, certain that his kind wife was dreaming, to let himself out into the night air. For a few moments he would be free of the smells of old food in the small house by the river. For a silent moment he would let his heart soar alone into space, following the rockets.

Now, this very night, he stood half naked in the darkness, watching the fire fountains murmuring in the air. The rockets on their long wild way to Mars and Saturn and Venus!

"Well, well, Bodoni."

Bodoni started.

On a milk crate, by the silent river, sat an old man who also watched the rockets through the midnight hush.

"Oh, it's you, Bramante!"

"Do you come out every night, Bodoni?"

"Only for the air."

"So? I prefer the rockets myself," said old Bramante. "I was a boy when they started. Eighty years ago, and I've never been on one yet."

"I will ride up in one someday," said Bodoni.

"Fool!" cried Bramante. "You'll never go. This is a rich man's world." He shook his gray head, remembering. "When I was young they wrote it in fiery letters: THE WORLD OF THE FUTURE! Science, Comfort, and New Things for All! Ha! Eighty years. The Future becomes Now! Do we fly rockets'? No! We live in shacks like our ancestors before us."

"Perhaps my sons -" said Bodoni.

"No, nor their sons!" the old man shouted. "It's the rich who have dreams and rockets!"

Bodoni hesitated. "Old man, I've saved three thousand dollars. It took me six years to save it. For my business, to invest in machinery. But every night for a month now I've been awake. I hear the rockets. I think. And tonight I've made up my mind. One of us will fly to Mars!" His eyes were shining and dark.

"Idiot," snapped Bramante. "How will you choose? Who will go? If you go, your wife will hate you, for you will be just a bit nearer God, in spare. When you tell your amazing trip to her, over the years, won't bitterness gnaw at her?"

"No, no!"

"Yes! And your children? Will their lives be filled with the memory of Papa, who flew to Mars while they stayed here? What a senseless task you will set your boys. They will think of the rocket all their lives. They will lie awake. They will be sick with wanting it. Just as you are sick now. They will want to die if they cannot go. Don't set that goal, I warn you. Let them be content with being poor. Turn their eyes down to their hands and to your junk yard, not up to the stars."

"But -"

"Suppose your wife went? How would you feel, knowing she had seen and you had not? She would become holy. You would think of throwing her in the river. No, Bodoni, buy a new wrecking machine, which you need, and pull your dreams apart with it, and smash them to pieces."

The old man subsided, gazing at the river in which, drowned, images of rockets burned down the sky.

"Good night," said Bodoni.

"Sleep well," said the other.

When the toast jumped from its silver box, Bodoni almost screamed. The night had been sleepless. Among his nervous children, beside his mountainous wife, Bodoni had twisted and stared at nothing. Bramante was right. Better to invest the money. Why save it when only one of the family could ride the rocket, while the others remained to melt in frustration?

"Fiorello, eat your toast," said his wife, Maria.

"My throat is shriveled," said Bodoni.

The children rushed in, the three boys fighting over a toy rocket, the two girls carrying dolls which duplicated the inhabitants of Mars, Venus, and Neptune, green mannequins with three yellow eyes and twelve fingers.

"I saw the Venus rocket!" cried Paolo.

"It took off, whoosh!" hissed Antonello.

"Children!" shouted Bodoni, hands to his ears.

They stared at him. He seldom shouted.

Bodoni arose. "Listen, all of you," he said. "I have enough money to take one of us on the Mars rocket."

Everyone yelled.

"You understand?" he asked. "Only one of us. Who?"

"Me, me, me!" cried the children.

"You," said Maria.

"You," said Bodoni to her.

They all fell silent.

The children reconsidered. "Let Lorenzo go - he's oldest."

"Let Miriamne go - she's a girl!"

"Think what you would see," said Bodoni's wife to him. But her eyes were strange. Her voice shook. "The meteors, like fish. The universe. The Moon. Someone should go who could tell it well on returning. You have a way with words."

"Nonsense. So have you," he objected.

Everyone trembled.

"Here," said Bodoni unhappily. From a broom he broke straws of various lengths. "The short straw wins." He held out his tight fist. "Choose."

Solemnly each took his turn.

"Long straw."

"Long straw."

Another.

"Long straw."

The children finished. The room was quiet. Two straws remained. Bodoni felt his heart ache in him.

"Now," he whispered. "Maria."

She drew.

"The short straw," she said.

"Ah," sighed Lorenzo, half happy, half sad. "Mama goes to Mars."

Bodoni tried to smile. "Congratulations. I will buy your ticket today."

"Wait, Fiorello -"

"You can leave next week," he murmured.

She saw the sad eyes of her children upon her, with the smiles beneath their straight, large noses. She returned the straw slowly to her husband. "I cannot go to Mars."

"But why not?"

"I will be busy with another child."

"What!"

She would not look at him. "It wouldn't do for me to travel in my condition."

He took her elbow. "Is this the truth?"

"Draw again. Start over."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he said incredulously.

"I didn't remember."

"Maria, Maria," he whispered, patting her face. He turned to the children. "Draw again."

Paolo immediately drew the short straw.

"I go to Mars!" He danced wildly. "Thank you, Father!"

The other children edged away. "That's swell, Paolo."

Paolo stopped smiling to examine his parents and his brothers and sisters. "I can go, can't I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes."

"And you'll like me when I come back?"

"Of course."

Paolo studied the precious broomstraw on his trembling hand and shook his head. He threw it away. "I forgot. School starts. I can't go. Draw again."

But none would draw. A full sadness lay on them.

"None of us will go," said Lorenzo.

"That's best," said Maria.

"Bramante was right," said Bodoni.

With his breakfast curdled within him, Fiorello Bodoni worked in his junk yard, ripping metal, melting it, pouring out usable ingots. His equipment flaked apart; competition had kept him on the insane edge of poverty for twenty years. It was a very bad morning.

In the afternoon a man entered the junk yard and called up to Bodoni on his wrecking machine. "Hey, Bodoni, I got some metal for you!"

"What is it, Mr. Mathews?" asked Bodoni, listlessly.

"A rocket ship. What's wrong? Don't you want it?"

"Yes, yes!" He seized the man's arm, and stopped, bewildered.

"Of course," said Mathews, "it's only a mockup. You know. When they plan a rocket they build a full-scale model first, of aluminum. You might make a small profit boiling her down. Let you have her for two thousand -"

Bodoni dropped his hand. "I haven't the money."

"Sorry. Thought I'd help you. Last time we talked you said how everyone outbid you on junk. Thought I'd slip this to you on the q.t. Well -"

"I need new equipment. I saved money for that."

"I understand."

"If I bought your rocket, I wouldn't even be able to melt it down. My aluminum furnace broke down last week -"

"Sure."

"I couldn't possibly use the rocket if I bought it from you."

"I know."

Bodoni hunked and shut his eyes. He opened them and looked at Mr. Mathews. "But I am a great fool. I will take my money from the bank and give it to you."

"But if you can't melt the rocket down -"

"Deliver it," said Bodoni.

"All right, if you say so. Tonight?"

"Tonight," said Bodoni, "would be fine. Yes, I would like to have a rocket ship tonight."


...

There was a moon. The rocket was white and big in the junk yard. It held the whiteness of the moon and the blueness of the stars. Bodoni looked at it and loved all of it. He wanted to pet it and lie against it, pressing it with his cheek, telling it all the secret wants of his heart.

He stared up at it. "You are all mine," he said. "Even if you never move or spit fire, and just sit there and rust for fifty years, you are mine."

The rocket smelled of time and distance. It was like walking into a clock. It was finished with Swiss delicacy. One might wear it on one's watch fob. "I might even sleep here tonight," Bodoni whispered excitedly.

He sat in the pilot's seat.

He touched a lever.

He hummed in his shut mouth, his eyes closed.

The humming grew louder, louder, higher, higher, wilder, stranger, more exhilarating, trembling in him and leaning him forward and pulling him and the ship in a roaring silence and in a kind of metal screaming, while his fists flew over the controls, and his shut eyes quivered, and the sound grew and grew until it was a fire, a strength, a lifting and a pushing of power that threatened to tear him in half. He gasped. He hummed again and again, and did not stop, for it could not be stopped, it could only go on, his eyes tighter, his heart furious. "Taking off!" he screamed. The jolting concussion! The thunder! "The Moon!" he cried, eyes blind, tight. "The meteors!" The silent rush in volcanic light. "Mars. Oh, God, Mars! Mars!"

He fell back, exhausted and panting. His shaking hands came loose of the controls and his head tilted back wildly. He sat for a long time, breathing out and in, his heart slowing.

Slowly, slowly, he opened his eyes.

The junk yard was still there.

He sat motionless. He looked at the heaped piles of metal for a minute, his eyes never leaving them. Then, leaping up, he kicked the levers. "Take off, damn you!"

The ship was silent.

"I'll show you!" he cried.

Out in the night air, stumbling, he started the fierce motor of his terrible wrecking machine and advanced upon the rocket. He maneuvered the massive weights into the moonlit sky. He readied his trembling hands to plunge the weights, to smash, to rip apart this insolently false dream, this silly thing for which he had paid his money, which would not move, which would not do his bidding. "I'll teach you!" he shouted.

But his hand stayed.

The silver rocket lay in the light of the moon. And beyond the rocket stood the yellow lights of his home, a block away, burning warmly. He heard the family radio playing some distant music. He sat for half an hour considering the rocket and the house lights, and his eyes narrowed and grew wide. He stepped down from the wrecking machine and began to walk, and as he walked he began to laugh, and when he reached the back door of his house he took a deep breath and called, "Maria, Maria, start packing. We're going to Mars!"

"Oh!"

"Ah!"

"I can't believe it!"

"You will, you will."

The children balanced in the windy yard, under the glowing rocket, not touching it yet. They started to cry.

Maria looked at her husband. "What have you done?" she said. "Taken our money for this? It will never fly."

"It will fly," he said, looking at it.

"Rocket ships cost millions. Have you millions?"

"It will fly," he repeated steadily. "Now, go to the house, all of you. I have phone calls to make, work to do. Tomorrow we leave! Tell no one, understand? It is a secret."

The children edged off from the rocket, stumbling. He saw their small, feverish faces in the house windows, far away.

Maria had not moved. "You have ruined us," she said. "Our money used for this - this thing. When it should have been spent on equipment."

"You will see," he said.

Without a word she turned away.

"God help me," he whispered, and started to work.

Through the midnight hours trucks arrived, packages were delivered, and Bodoni, smiling, exhausted his bank account. With blowtorch and metal stripping he assaulted the rocket, added, took away, worked fiery magics and secret insults upon it. He bolted nine ancient automobile motors into the rocket's empty engine room. Then he welded the engine room shut, so none could see his hidden labor.

At dawn he entered the kitchen. "Maria," he said, "I'm ready for breakfast."

She would not speak to him.


...

At sunset he called to the children. "We're ready! Come on!" The house was silent.

"I've locked them in the closet," said Maria.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"You'll be killed in that rocket," she said. "What kind of rocket can you buy for two thousand dollars? A bad one!"

"Listen to me, Maria."

"It will blow up. Anyway, you are no pilot."

"Nevertheless, I can fly this ship. I have fixed it."

"You have gone mad," she said.

"Where is the key to the closet?"

"I have it here."

He put out his hand. "Give it to me."

She banded it to him. "You will kill them."

"No, no."

"Yes, you will. I feel it."

He stood before her. "You won't come along?"

"I'll stay here," she said.

"You will understand; you will see then," he said, and smiled. He unlocked the closet. "Come, children. Follow your father."

"Good-bye, good-bye, Mama!"

She stayed in the kitchen window, looking out at them, very straight and silent.

At the door of the rocket the father said, "Children, we will be gone a week. You must come back to school, and I to my business." He took each of their hands in turn. "Listen. This rocket is very old and will fly only one more journey. It will not fly again. This will be the one trip of your life. Keep your eyes wide."

"Yes, Papa."

"Listen, keep your ears clean. Smell the smells of a rocket. Feel. Remember. So when you return you will talk of it all the rest of your lives."

"Yes, Papa."

The ship was quiet as a stopped clock. The airlock hissed shut behind them. He strapped them all, like tiny mummies, into rubber hammocks. "Ready?" he called.

"Ready!" all replied.

"Take-off!" He jerked ten switches. The rocket thundered and leaped. The children danced in their hammocks, screaming.

"Here comes the Moon!"

The moon dreamed by. Meteors broke into fireworks. Time flowed away in a serpentine of gas. The children shouted. Released from their hammocks, hours later, they peered from the ports. "There's Earth!" "There's Mars!"

The rocket dropped pink petals of fire while the hour dials spun; the child eyes dropped shut. At last they hung like drunken moths in their cocoon hammocks.

"Good," whispered Bodoni, alone.

He tiptoed from the control room to stand for a long moment, fearful, at the airlock door.

He pressed a button. The airlock door swung wide. He stepped out. Into space? Into inky tides of meteor and gaseous torch? Into swift mileages and infinite dimensions?

No. Bodoni smiled.

All about the quivering rocket lay the junk yard. Rusting, unchanged, there stood the padlocked junk-yard gate, the little silent house by the river, the kitchen window lighted, and the river going down to the same sea. And in the center of the junk yard, manufacturing a magic dream, lay the quivering, purring rocket. Shaking and roaring, bouncing the netted children like flies in a web.

Maria stood in the kitchen window.

He waved to her and smiled.

He could not see if she waved or not. A small wave, perhaps. A small smile.

The sun was rising.

Bodoni withdrew hastily into the rocket. Silence. All still slept. He breathed easily. Tying himself into a hammock, he closed his eyes. To himself he prayed. Oh, let nothing happen to the illusion in the next six days. Let all of space come and go, and red Mars come up under our ship, and the moons of Mars, and let there be no flaws in the color film. Let there be three dimensions; let nothing go wrong with the hidden mirrors and screens that mold the fine illusion. Let time pass without crisis.

He awoke.

Red Mars floated near the rocket.

"Papa!" The children thrashed to be free.

Bodoni looked and saw red Mars and it was good and there was no flaw in it and he was very happy.

At sunset on the seventh day the rocket stopped shuddering.

"We are home," said Bodoni.

They walked across the junk yard from the open door of the rocket, their blood singing, their faces glowing.

"I have ham and eggs for all or you," said Maria, at the kitchen door.

"Mama, Mama, you should have come, to see it, to see Mars, Mama, and meteors, and everything!"

"Yes," she said.

At bedtime the children gathered before Bodoni. "We want to thank you, Papa."

"It was nothing."

"We will remember it for always, Papa. We will never forget."


...

Very late in the night Bodoni opened his eyes. He sensed that his wife was lying beside him, watching him. She did not move for a very long time, and then suddenly she kissed his cheeks and his forehead. "What's this?" he cried.

"You're the best father in the world," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Now I see," she said. "I understand."

She lay back and closed her eyes, holding his hand. "Is it a very lovely journey?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Perhaps," she said, "perhaps, some night, you might take me on just a little trip, do you think?"

"Just a little one, perhaps," he said.

"Thank you," she said. "Good night."

"Good night," said Fiorello Bodoni.

Some Thoughts

Today, I get curious glances from the youth that often ask me “why did you want to go into space?”. To them, it is dull and uninteresting. It is the realm of satellites to measure global warming. To them, it is a racist and bigoted environment that favored “white people”. To them, is is a big void that holds nothing of interest.

But they are wrong.

The future of mankind lies in space.

This story, and others, amply the describe the strong yearning that I had for space exploration, science and solving the mysteries of the universe. I didn’t want “someday” to go into space. No. Every single fiber of my body screamed the need. I could live, sleep or do anything without thinking of space, and the huge rockets that would someday carry me there.

No. Today it is a different time with different role models. I grew up in a world where Ronald Reagan was president. Today, children grow up in a world where Barrack Obama is president.

Obama on a bike
The presidents change with the culture. While I grew up and graduated (and entered MAJestic) under President Reagan, the youth of today have different role models to follow. Instead they follow President Obama as a role model. Everyone wants to be a Social Justice Warrior and correct the illusions that seem to hurt everyone’s feelings.

So it should be no surprise that an anarchism like myself would be misunderstood.

Conclusion

This story fed my dreams when I was a young boy. Sometime in my early teens in the 1970’s I first read this story. I am sure that I read it in one complete sitting. Perhaps it was on my bed with my cat Sedwick, or chilling in my tree-house next to the kitchen. In any event, I completely loved the story, and every few years or so, I crack up the story and read it again.

Ray Bradberry 2
Perhaps one day, my sons will ride off into space. Perhaps. One day.

This story meant a lot to me, and still does. I sincerely, hope that you, the reader, have derived as much pleasure from it as I have.

Take Aways

  • This story is about a father providing an experience for his children so that they can realize that it is possible to obtain their dreams.
  • No one wants to hear that something is impossible or beyond their ability.
  • Subsisting is not living.
  • Humans are creatures that must grow and advance.

FAQ

Q: Did you study about Ray Bradbury in school?
A: No. Instead I took hard science courses, language classes including Latin, and mathematics. My goal and dream was to become a spaceman. I wanted to be a Rocket Jockey. I had friends in university that took classes in English and Literature that studied Bradbury. I could not. I had a very heavy class load.

So, for recreation, around 12:00 midnight or later, after I would finish up my homework, I would read short stories in bed for a spell so that I could decompress and fall asleep.

Q: What significance does this story hold?
A: It depends on who reads it. People take different meanings from different experiences. For instance, my sister thought Robert Heinlein was a pompous chauvinist. However, I liked to read his stories. My mother thought that while it was good that I was reading, I should have instead read the “classics” and become a more rounded person. While I did actually read many “classics”, it was the stories of science fiction and prose that influenced me substantially.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 27SEP18.
  2. Completed 27SEP18.
  3. SEO review 27SEp18.
  4. Published 27SEp18.

The Fog Horn (Full Text) By Ray Bradbury

The Fog Horn” is a 1951 science fiction short story by American writer Ray Bradbury, the first in his collection The Golden Apples of the Sun. The story was the basis for the 1953 film The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.

This story was written by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

When Ray started out, the field of science fiction lacked respectability, to say the least. It was the province of the pulps: magazines printed on cheap paper, with lurid covers designed to catch the attention of immature boys. 

He was often dismissed, if not outright ridiculed, by mainstream writers, but quickly learned to ignore his critics. If they didn’t think rockets and dinosaurs were suitable subjects for literature, to hell with them. 

Ray loved that stuff, along with Martians and witches and things that go bump in the night, so that’s what he wrote about. His unique imagination was harnessed within vivid, lyrical prose, and after the publication of The Martian Chronicles in 1950, the literary elite were forced to acknowledge a striking new talent.

As Ray’s stories became more widely published and read, they fueled the imaginations of millions of young people over several generations, many of whom went on to cite his influence as a major reason they became scientists and engineers. 

His stories practically shouted that it wasn’t just okay to dream of rockets and space travel, it was wonderful, mythic, imperative—the highest accomplishment the human race could aspire to.

-The Space Review's tribute to Ray Bradbury

Introduction

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…”

R is for Rocket

Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “The Fog Horn” on the Ray Bradbury.RU  website (in Russian; Рассказ Рэя Брэдбери), and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.

The Fog Horn

By Ray Bradbury

Out there in the cold water, far from land, we waited every night for the coming of the fog, and it came, and we oiled the brass machinery and lit the fog light up in the stone tower. Feeling like two birds in the gray sky, McDunn and I sent the light touching out, red, then white, then red again, to eye the lonely ships. And if they did not see our light, then there was always our Voice, the great deep cry of our Fog Horn shuddering through the rags of mist to startle the gulls away like decks of scattered cards and make the waves turn high and foam.

"It's a lonely life, but you're used to it now, aren't you?" asked McDunn.

"Yes," I said. "You're a good talker, thank the Lord."

"Well, it's your turn on land tomorrow," he said, smiling, "to dance the ladies and drink gin."

"What do you think, McDunn, when I leave you out here alone?"

"On the mysteries of the sea." McDunn lit his pipe. It was a quarter past seven of a cold November evening, the heat on, the light switching its tail in two hundred directions, the Fog Horn bumbling in the high throat of the tower. There wasn't a town for a hundred miles down the coast, just a road which came lonely through dead country to the sea, with few cars on it, a stretch of two miles of cold water out to our rock, and rare few ships.

"The mysteries of the sea' said McDunn thoughtfully. "You know, the ocean's the biggest damned snowflake ever? It rolls and swells a thousand shapes and colours, no two alike. Strange. One night, years ago, I was here alone, when all of the fish of the sea surfaced out there. Something made them swim in and lie in the bay, sort of trembling and staring up at the tower light going red, white, red, white across them so I could see their funny eyes. I fumed cold. They were like a big peacock's tail, moving out there until midnight. Then, without so much as a sound, they slipped away, the million of them was gone. I kind of think maybe, in some sort of way, they came all those miles to worship. Strange. But think how the tower must look to them, standing seventy feet above the water, the God-light flashing out from it, and the tower declaring itself with a monster voice. They never came back, those fish, but don't you think for a while they thought they were in the Presence?"

I shivered. I looked out at the long gray lawn of the sea stretching away into nothing and nowhere.

"Oh, the sea's full." McDunn puffed his pipe nervously, blinking. He had been nervous all day and hadn't said why. "For all our engines and so-called submarines, it'll be ten thousand centuries before we set foot on the real bottom of the sunken lands, in the fairy kingdoms there, and know real terror. Think of it, it's still the year 300,000 Before Christ down under there. While we've paraded around with trumpets, lopping off each other's countries and heads, they have been living beneath the sea twelve miles deep and cold in a time as old as the beard of a comet."

"Yes, it's an old world."

"Come on. I got something special I been saving up to tell you."

We ascended the eighty steps, talking and taking our time. At the top, McDunn switched off the room lights so there'd be no reflection in the plate glass. The great eye of the light was humming, turning easily in its oiled socket. The Fog Horn was blowing steadily, once every fifteen seconds.

"Sounds like an animal, don't it?" McDunn nodded to himself. "A big lonely animal crying in the night. Sitting here on the edge of ten billion years calling out to the Deeps, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. And the Deeps do answer, yes, they do. You been here now for three months, Johnny, so I better prepare you. About this time of year," he said, studying the murk and fog, "something comes to visit the lighthouse."

"The swarms of fish like you said?"

"No, this is something else. I've put off telling you because you might think I'm daft. But tonight's the latest I can put it off, for if my calendar's marked right from last year, tonight's the night it comes. I won't go into detail, you'll have to see it yourself. Just sit down there. If you want, tomorrow you can pack your duffel and take the motorboat in to land and get your car parked there at the dinghy pier on the cape and drive on back to some little inland town and keep your lights burning nights, I won't question or blame you. It's happened three years now, and this is the only time anyone's been here with me to verify it. You wait and watch."

Half an hour passed with only a few whispers between us. When we grew tired waiting, McDunn began describing some of his ideas to me. He had some theories about the Fog Horn itself.

"One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, 'We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I'll make one. I'll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I'll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I'll make a sound that's so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I'll make me a sound and an apparatus and they'll call it a Fog Horn and whoever bears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.'"

The Fog Horn blew.

"I made up that story," said McDunn quietly, "to try to explain why this thing keeps coming back to the lighthouse every year. The Fog Horn calls it, I think, and it comes...."

"But - "I said.

"Sssst!" said McDunn. "There!" He nodded out to the Deeps.

Something was swimming toward the lighthouse tower.

It was a cold night, as I have said; the high tower was cold, the light coming and going, and the Fog Horn calling and calling through the raveling mist. You couldn't see far and you couldn't see plain, but there was the deep sea moving on its way about the night earth, flat and quiet, the colour of gray mud, and here were the two of us alone in the high tower, and there, far out at first, was a ripple, followed by a wave, a rising, a bubble, a bit of froth. And then, from the surface of the cold sea came a head, a large head, dark-coloured, with immense eyes, and then a neck. And then - not a body - but more neck and more! The head rose a full forty feet above the water on a slender and beautiful dark neck. Only then did the body, like a little island of black coral and shells and crayfish, drip up from the subterranean. There was a flicker of tail. In all, from head to tip of tail, I estimated the monster at ninety or a hundred feet.

I don't know what I said. I said something.

"Steady, boy, steady," whispered McDunn.

"It's impossible! "I said.

"No, Johnny, we're impossible. It's like it always was ten million years ago. It hasn't changed. It's us and the land that've changed, become impossible. Us!"

It swam slowly and with a great dark majesty out in the icy waters, far away. The fog came and went about it, momentarily erasing its shape. One of the monster eyes caught and held and flashed back our immense light, red, white, red, white, like a disk held high and sending a message in primeval code. It was as silent as the fog through which it swam.

"It's a dinosaur of some sort!" I crouched down, holding to the stair rail.

"Yes, one of the tribe."

"But they died out!"

"No, only hid away in the Deeps. Deep, deep down in the deepest Deeps. Isn't that a word now, Johnny, a real word, it says so much: the Deeps. There's all the coldness and darkness and deepness in a word like that."

"What'll we do?"

"Do? We got our job, we can't leave. Besides, we're safer here than in any boat trying to get to land. That thing's as big as a destroyer and almost as swift."

"But here, why does it come here?"

The next moment I had my answer.

The Fog Horn blew.

And the monster answered.

A cry came across a million years of water and mist. A cry so anguished and alone that it shuddered in my head and my body. The monster cried out at the tower. The Fog Horn blew. The monster roared again. The Fog Horn blew. The monster opened its great toothed mouth and the sound that came from it was the sound of the Fog Horn itself. Lonely and vast and far away. The sound of isolation, a viewless sea, a cold night, apartness. That was the sound.

"Now," whispered McDunn, "do you know why it comes here?"

I nodded.

"All year long, Johnny, that poor monster there lying far out, a thousand miles at sea, and twenty miles deep maybe, biding its tune, perhaps it's a million years old, this one creature. Think of it, waiting a million years; could you wait that long? Maybe it's the last of its kind. I sort of think that's true. Anyway, here come men on land and build this lighthouse, five years ago. And set up their Fog Horn and sound it and sound it out toward the place where you bury yourself in sleep and sea memories of a world where there were thousands like yourself, but now you're alone, all alone in a world not made for you, a world where you have to hide.

"But the sound of the Fog Horn comes and goes, comes and goes, and you stir from the muddy bottom of the Deeps, and your eyes open like the lenses of two-foot cameras and you move, slow, slow, for you have the ocean sea on your shoulders, heavy. But that Fog Horn comes through a thousand miles of water, faint and familiar, and the furnace in your belly stokes up, and you begin to rise, slow, slow. You feed yourself on great slakes of cod and minnow, on rivers of jellyfish, and you rise slow through the autumn months, through September when the fogs started, through October with more fog and the horn still calling you on, and then, late in November, after pressurizing yourself day by day, a few feet higher every hour, you are near the surface and still alive. You've got to go slow; if you surfaced all at once you'd explode. So it takes you all of three months to surface, and then a number of days to swim through the cold waters to the lighthouse. And there you are, out there, in the night, Johnny, the biggest damn monster in creation. And here's the lighthouse calling to you, with a long neck like your neck sticking way up out of the water, and a body like your body, and, most important of all, a voice like your voice. Do you understand now, Johnny, do you understand?"

The Fog Horn blew.

The monster answered.

I saw it all, I knew it all - the million years of waiting alone, for someone to come back who never came back. The million years of isolation at the bottom of the sea, the insanity of time there, while the skies cleared of reptile-birds, the swamps dried on the continental lands, the sloths and saber-tooths had their day and sank in tar pits, and men ran like white ants upon the hills.

The Fog Horn blew.

"Last year," said McDunn, "that creature swam round and round, round and round, all night. Not coming too near, puzzled, I'd say. Afraid, maybe. And a bit angry after coming all this way. But the next day, unexpectedly, the fog lifted, the sun came out fresh, the sky was as blue as a painting. And the monster swam off away from the heat and the silence and didn't come back. I suppose it's been brooding on it for a year now, thinking it over from every which way."

The monster was only a hundred yards off now, it and the Fog Horn crying at each other. As the lights bit them, the monster's eyes were fire and ice, fire and ice.

"That's life for you," said McDunn. "Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more."

The monster was rushing at the lighthouse.

The Fog Horn blew.

"Let's see what happens," said McDunn.

He switched the Fog Horn off.

The ensuing minute of silence was so intense that we could hear our hearts pounding in the glassed area of the tower, could hear the slow greased turn of the light.

The monster stopped and froze. Its great lantern eyes blinked. Its mouth gaped. It gave a sort of rumble, like a volcano. It twitched its head this way and that, as if to seek the sounds now dwindled off into the fog. It peered at the lighthouse. It rumbled again. Then its eyes caught fire. It reared up, threshed the water, and rushed at the tower, its eyes filled with angry torment.

"McDunn!" I cried. "Switch on the horn!"

McDunn fumbled with the switch. But even as he flicked it on, the monster was rearing up. I had a glimpse of its gigantic paws, fishskin glittering in webs between the fingerlike projections, clawing at the tower. The huge eye on the right side of its anguished head glittered before me like a caldron into which I might drop, screaming. The tower shook. The Fog Horn cried; the monster cried. It seized the tower and gnashed at the glass, which shattered in upon us.

McDunn seized my arm. "Downstairs!"

The tower rocked, trembled, and started to give. The Fog Horn and the monster roared. We stumbled and half fell down the stairs. "Quick!"

We reached the bottom as the tower buckled down toward us. We ducked under the stairs into the small stone cellar. There were a thousand concussions as the rocks rained down; the Fog Horn stopped abruptly. The monster crashed upon the tower. The tower fell. We knelt together, McDunn and I, holding tight, while our world exploded.

Then it was over, and there was nothing but darkness and the wash of the sea on the raw stones.

That and the other sound.

"Listen," said McDunn quietly. "Listen."

We waited a moment. And then I began to hear it. First a great vacuumed sucking of air, and then the lament, the bewilderment, the loneliness of the great monster, folded over and upon us, above us, so that the sickening reek of its body filled the air, a stone's thickness away from our cellar. The monster gasped and cried. The tower was gone. The light was gone. The thing that had called to it across a million years was gone. And the monster was opening its mouth and sending out great sounds. The sounds of a Fog Horn, again and again. And ships far at sea, not finding the light, not seeing anything, but passing and hearing late that night, must've thought: There it is, the lonely sound, the Lonesome Bay horn. All's well. We've rounded the cape.

And so it went for the rest of that night.

The sun was hot and yellow the next afternoon when the rescuers came out to dig us from our stoned-under cellar.

"It fell apart, is all," said Mr. McDunn gravely. "We had a few bad knocks from the waves and it just crumbled." He pinched my arm.

There was nothing to see. The ocean was calm, the sky blue. The only thing was a great algaic stink from the green matter that covered the fallen tower stones and the shore rocks. Flies buzzed about. The ocean washed empty on the shore.

The next year they built a new lighthouse, but by that time I had a job in the little town and a wife and a good small warm house that glowed yellow on autumn nights, the doors locked, the chimney puffing smoke. As for McDunn, he was master of the new lighthouse, built to his own specifications, out of steel-reinforced concrete. "Just in case," he said.

The new lighthouse was ready in November. I drove down alone one evening late and parked my car and looked across the gray waters and listened to the new hom sounding, once, twice, three, four times a minute far out there, by itself.

The monster?

It never came back.

"It's gone away," said McDunn. "It's gone back to the Deeps. It's learned you can't love anything too much in this world. It's gone into the deepest Deeps to wait another million years. Ah, the poor thing! Waiting out there, and waiting out there, while man comes and goes on this pitiful little planet. Waiting and waiting."

I sat in my car, listening. I couldn't see the lighthouse or the light standing out in Lonesome Bay. I could only hear the Horn, the Horn, the Horn. It sounded like the monster calling.

I sat there wishing there was something I could say.

Conclusions

I spent much of my childhood being inspired by science fiction works. My favorite authors included Ray Bradberry and Robert Heinlein. The works of Robert Heinlein suited my juvenile belief structures at the time, but Ray Bradberry evoked my emotions.

While I cannot recall when I first encountered this story, I can positively state that my father wanted me to read it. He gave me a collection of Ray Bradberry short stories and told me to read this one in particular. And, so I did. I went into the living room, plopped myself down on the chair (not a lazy-boy) and started reading. I think that I read it non-stop and then went into the kitchen and made a “Dagwood” sandwich, and a big glass of ice-cold milk.

As a young boy I readily consumed every science fiction story that I could get my hands on. I loved reading about spaceships, rockets, strange adventures, time travel and dinosaurs. These were the things that shaped my life. These were the things that made me who I am today.

Take Aways

  • The short story “The Fog Horn” was written by Ray Bradberry.
  • While the story is about the confrontation of a sea beast and a fog horn, it is about much more that that. It is about loneliness and frustration.

FAQ

Q: Why does the sea monster come to the lighthouse?
A: The lighthouse calls to the monster. Somehow it hears the call, and somehow it answers the call. We do not know why it comes forth, nor do we know the motivations of the monster. We can only guess.

Q: What appeal does this story have for the reader?
A: Everyone has experienced loneliness. Everyone has experienced frustration and rejection. Thus, everyone can find compassion and understanding in the emotions of the sea monster.

Q: What makes this story so different from the Godzilla monster movies of the 1960’s?
A: Godzilla, and other monster stories, while they would often have a back-story to explain what they were doing and why, they typically did not explore the emotional aspects of the creature. This story does.  In comparison, instead of being a story about destruction of Tokyo or the collapse of a light-house, this story is one of raw emotion. It is a story that haunts.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 27SEP18.
  2. Completed 27SEP18.
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The Long Rain (Full Text) – Ray Bradbury

The Long Rain” is a short story by science fiction author Ray Bradbury. This story was originally published in 1950 as “Death-by-Rain” in the magazine Planet Stories, and then in the collection The Illustrated Man. The story tells of four men who have crashed on a planet where it is always raining. As they try to reach the safety of the Sun Domes, they end up being driven insane by the endless rains.

The story was republished in several collections and was incorporated into a film also titled The Illustrated Man.

This story was written by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

When Ray started out, the field of science fiction lacked respectability, to say the least. It was the province of the pulps: magazines printed on cheap paper, with lurid covers designed to catch the attention of immature boys. 

He was often dismissed, if not outright ridiculed, by mainstream writers, but quickly learned to ignore his critics. If they didn’t think rockets and dinosaurs were suitable subjects for literature, to hell with them. 

Ray loved that stuff, along with Martians and witches and things that go bump in the night, so that’s what he wrote about. His unique imagination was harnessed within vivid, lyrical prose, and after the publication of The Martian Chronicles in 1950, the literary elite were forced to acknowledge a striking new talent.

As Ray’s stories became more widely published and read, they fueled the imaginations of millions of young people over several generations, many of whom went on to cite his influence as a major reason they became scientists and engineers. 

His stories practically shouted that it wasn’t just okay to dream of rockets and space travel, it was wonderful, mythic, imperative—the highest accomplishment the human race could aspire to.

-The Space Review's tribute to Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradberry 1
An artistic rendering of the sun dome in the distance. Venus in this story, is a planet of continuous rain, dark and deep clouds, and lightening storms. Humans have tried to colonize Venus, but they can only do so in safe enclosures called “sun domes”. There, they survive and live safe against the rainy onslaught of torrential and never-ending water.

Introduction

“There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…”

R is for Rocket

Ray Bradbury

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

Ray Bradberry book colleciton
A small collection of well worn, well read and well appreciated Ray Bradbury books. My collection looked a little something like this, only I think the books were a little more worn, and a little yellower.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

As an side, I would sometimes help Chinese students with their English. At times, I would "assign" them a book to read. One student bought the book, and waited two full months before it arrived, and the first story that he read was this one; "The Long Rain".
When I asked him to describe what it was like, he was all over himself trying to describe an impossible world; a wet world where everything you do was soaked and wet. It was a world where you had to trudge through water, currents, mud and bog to find this elusive sun dome. To this day, years later, he still talks about this story.

I have found this version of the story “The Long Rain” on the wiki.spaces website in PDF format, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at the Ray Bradbury Library for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.

The Long Rain

Ray Bradbury

THE rain continued. It was a hard rain, a perpetual rain, a sweating and steaming rain; it was a mizzle, a downpour, a fountain, a whipping at the eyes, an undertow at the ankles; it was a rain to drown all rains and the memory of rains. It came by the pound and the ton, it hacked at the jungle and cut the trees like scissors and shaved the grass and tunneled the soil and molted the bushes. It shrank men’s hands into the hands of wrinkled apes; it rained a solid glassy rain, and it never stopped.

“How much farther, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know. A mile, ten miles, a thousand.” “Aren’t you sure?”

“How can I be sure?”

“I don’t like this rain. If we only knew how far it is to the Sun Dome, I’d feel better.” “Another hour or two from here.”

“You really think so, Lieutenant?” “Of course.”

“Or are you lying to keep us happy?” “I’m lying to keep you happy. Shut up!”

The two men sat together in the rain. Behind them sat two other men who were wet and tired and slumped like clay that was melting. The lieutenant looked up. He had a face that once had been brown and now the rain had washed it pale, and the rain had washed the color from his eyes and they were white, as were his teeth, and as was his hair. He was all white. Even his uniform was beginning to turn white, and perhaps a little green with fungus.

“Don’t be crazy,” said one of the two other men. “It never stops raining on Venus. It just goes on and on. I’ve lived here for ten years and I never saw a minute, or even a second, when it wasn’t pouring.”

“It’s like living under water,” said the lieutenant, and rose up, shrugging his guns into place. “Well, we’d better get going. We’ll find that Sun Dome yet.”

“Or we won’t find it,” said the cynic. “It’s an hour or so.”

“Now you’re lying to me, Lieutenant.”

“No, now I’m lying to myself. This is one of those times when you’ve got to lie. I can’t take much more of this.”

They walked down the jungle trail, now and then looking at their compasses. There was no direction anywhere, only what the compass said. There was a gray sky and rain falling and jungle and a path, and, far back behind them somewhere, a rocket in which they had ridden and fallen. A rocket in which lay two of their friends, dead and dripping rain.

They walked in single file, not speaking. They came to a river which lay wide and flat and brown, flowing down to the great Single Sea. The surface of it was stippled in a billion places by the rain.

“All right, Simmons.”

The lieutenant nodded and Simmons took a small packet from his back which, with a pressure of hidden chemical, inflated into a large boat. The lieutenant directed the cutting of wood and the quick making of paddles and they set out into the river, paddling swiftly across the smooth surface in the rain. The lieutenant felt the cold rain on his cheeks and on his neck and on his moving arms. The cold was beginning to seep into his lungs. He felt the rain on his ears, on his eyes, on his legs.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he said.

“Who could? Who has? When? How many nights have we slept? Thirty nights, thirty days! Who can sleep with rain slamming their head, banging away. . . . I’d give anything for a hat. Anything at all, just so it wouldn’t hit my head any more. I get headaches. My head is sore; it hurts all the time.”

“I’m sorry I came to China,” said one of the others. “First time I ever heard Venus called China.”

“Sure, China. Chinese water cure. Remember the old torture? Rope you against a wall. Drop one drop of water on your head every half-hour. You go crazy waiting for the next one. Well, that’s Venus, but on a big scale. We’re not made for water. You can’t sleep, you can’t breathe right, and you’re crazy from just being soggy. If we’d been ready for a crash, we’d have brought waterproofed uniforms and hats. It’s this beating rain on your head gets you, most of all. It’s so heavy. It’s like BB shot. I don’t know how long I can take it.”

They crossed the river, and in crossing they thought of the Sun Dome, somewhere ahead of them, shining in the jungle rain. A yellow house, round and bright as the sun. A house fifteen feet high by one hundred feet in diameter, in which was warmth and quiet and hot food and freedom from rain. And in the center of the Sun Dome, of course, was a sun. A small floating free globe of yellow fire, drifting in space at the top of the building where you could look at it from where you sat, smoking or reading a book or drinking your hot chocolate crowned with marshmallow dollops. There it would be, the yellow sun, just the size of the Earth sun, and it was warm and continuous, and the rain world of Venus would be forgotten as long as they stayed in that house and idled their time.

The lieutenant turned and looked back at the three men using their oars and gritting their teeth. They were as white as mushrooms, as white as lie was. Venus bleached everything away in a few months. Even the jungle was an immense cartoon nightmare, for how could the jungle be green with no sun,with always rain falling and always dusk? The white, white jungle with the pale cheese-colored leaves, and the earth carved of wet Camembert, and the tree boles like immense toadstools— everything black and white. And how often could you see the soil itself? Wasn’t it mostly a creek, a stream, a puddle, a pool, a lake, a river, and then, at last the sea?

“Here we are!”

They leaped out on the farthest shore, splashing and sending up showers. The boat was deflated and stored in a cigarette packet. Then, standing on the rainy shore, they tried to light up a few smokes for themselves, and it was five minutes or so before, shuddering, they worked the inverted lighter and, cupping their hands, managed a few drags upon cigarettes that all too quickly were limp and beaten away from their lips by a sudden slap of rain. They walked on.

“Wait just a moment,” said the lieutenant. “I thought I saw something ahead.” “The Sun Dome?”

“I’m not sure. The rain closed in again. Simmons began to run. “The Sun Dome!” “Come back, Simmons!”

“The Sun Dome!”

Simmons vanished in the rain. The others ran after him.

They found him in a little clearing, and they stopped and looked at him and what he had discovered. The rocket ship. It was lying where they had left it. Somehow they had circled back and were where they had started. In the ruin of the ship green fungus was growing up out of the mouths of the two dead men. As they watched, the fungus took flower, the petals broke away in the rain, and the fungus died.

“An electrical storm must be nearby. Threw our compasses off. That explains it.” “You’re right.”

“What’ll we do now?” “Start out again.”

“Good lord, we’re not any closer to anywhere!” “Let’s try to keep calm about it, Simmons.” “Calm, calm! This rain’s driving me wild!”

“We’ve enough food for another two days if we’re careful.”

The rain danced on their skin, on their wet uniforms; the rain streamed from their noses and ears, from their fingers and knees. They looked like stone fountains frozen in the jungle, issuing forth water from every pore. And, as they stood, from a distance they heard a roar. And the monster came out of the rain.

The monster was supported upon a thousand electric blue legs. It walked swiftly and terribly. It struck down a leg with a driving blow. Everywhere a leg struck a tree fell and burned. Great whiffs of ozone filled the rainy air, and smoke blew away and was broken up by the rain. The monster was a half mile wide and a mile high and it felt of the ground like a great blind thing. Sometimes, for a moment, it had no legs at all. And then, in an instant, a thousand whips would fall out of its belly, white-blue whips, to sting the jungle.

“There’s the electrical storm,” said one of the men. “There’s the thing ruined our compasses. And it’s coming this way.”

“Lie down, everyone,” said the lieutenant. “Run!” cried Simmons.

“Don’t be a fool. Lie down. It hits the highest points. We may get through unhurt. Lie down about fifty feet from the rocket. It may very well spend its force there and leave us be. Get down!”

The men flopped.

“Is it coming?” they asked each other, after a moment. “Coming.”

“Is it nearer?” “Is it nearer?” “Nearer?” “Here she is!”

The monster came and stood over them. It dropped down ten blue bolts of lightning which struck the rocket. The rocket flashed like a beaten gong and gave off a metal ringing. The monster let down fifteen more bolts which danced about in a ridiculous pantomime, feeling of the jungle and the watery soil.

“No, no!” One of the men jumped up. “Get down, yon fool!” said the lieutenant. “No!”

The lightning struck the rocket another dozen times. The lieutenant turned his head on his arm and saw the blue blazing flashes. He saw trees split and crumple into ruin. He saw the monstrous dark cloud turn like a black disk overhead and hurl down a hundred other poles of electricity.

The man who had leaped up was now running, like someone in a great hall of pillars. He ran and dodged between the pillars and then at last a dozen of the pillars slammed down and there was the sound a fly makes when landing upon the grill wires of an exterminator. The lieutenant remembered this from his childhood on a farm. And there was a smell of a man burned to a cinder.

The lieutenant lowered his head. “Don’t look up,” he told the others. He was afraid that he too might run at any moment.

The storm above them flashed down another series of bolts and then moved on away. Once again there was only the rain, which rapidly cleared the air of the charred smell, and in a moment the three remaining men were sitting and waiting for the beat of their hearts to subside into quiet once more.

They walked over to the body, thinking that perhaps they could still save the man’s life. They couldn’t believe that there wasn’t some way to help the man. It was the natural act of men who have not accepted death until they have touched it and turned it over and made plans to bury it or leave it there for the jungle to bury in an hour of quick growth.

The body was twisted steel, wrapped in burned leather. It looked like a wax dummy that had been thrown into an incinerator and pulled out after the wax had sunk to the charcoal skeleton. Only the teeth were white, and they shone like a strange white bracelet dropped half through a clenched black fist.

“He shouldn’t have jumped up.” They said it almost at the same time.

Even as they stood over the body it began to vanish, for the vegetation was edging in upon it, little vines and ivy and creepers, and even flowers for the dead.

At a distance the storm walked off on blue bolts of lightning and was gone.

They crossed a river and a creek and a stream and a dozen other rivers and creeks and streams. Before their eyes rivers appeared, rushing, new rivers, while old rivers changed their courses—rivers the color of mercury, rivers the color of silver and milk.

The Single Sea. There was only one continent on Venus. This land was three thousand miles long by a thousand miles wide, and about this island was the Single Sea, which covered the entire raining planet.

The Single Sea, which lay upon the pallid shore with little motion . . . “This way.” The lieutenant nodded south. “I’m sure there are two Sun Domes down that way. “While they were at it, why didn’t they build a hundred more?” “There’re a hundred and twenty of them now, aren’t there?”

“One hundred and twenty-six, as of last month. They tried to push a bill through Congress back on Earth a year ago to provide for a couple dozen more, but oh no, you know how that is. They’d rather a few men went crazy with the rain.”

They started south. The lieutenant and Simmons and the third man, Pickard, walked in the rain, in the rain that fell heavily and lightly, heavily and lightly; in the rain that poured and hammered and did not stop falling upon the land and the sea and the walking people.

Simmons saw it first. “There it is!” “There’s what?”

“The Sun Dome!”

The lieutenant blinked the water from his eyes and raised his hands to ward off the stinging blows of the rain. At a distance there was a yellow glow on the edge of the jungle, by the sea. It was, indeed, the Sun Dome.

The men smiled at each other.

“Looks like you were right, Lieutenant.” “Luck.”

“Brother, that puts muscle in me, just seeing it. Come on! Last one there’s a son-of-a-bitch!” Simmons began to trot. The others automatically fell in with this, gasping, tired, but keeping pace.

“A big pot of coffee for me,” panted Simmons, smiling. “And a pan of cinnamon buns, by God! And just lie there and let the old sun hit you. The guy that invented the Sun Domes, he should have got a medal!”

They ran faster. The yellow glow grew brighter.

“Guess a lot of men went crazy before they figured out the cure. Think it’d be obvious!  Right off.” Simmons panted the words in cadence to his running.  “Rain, rain!  Years ago.  Found a friend.  Of

min.  Out in the jungle.  Wandering around.  In the rain.  Saying over and over, ‘Don’t know enough

to come in outta the rain.  Don’t know enough, to come in, outta the rain.  Don’t know enough –‘  on and on.  Like that. Poor crazy bastard.”

“Save your breath!” They ran.

They all laughed. They reached the door of the Sun Dome, laughing.

Simmons yanked the door wide. “Hey!” he yelled. “Bring on the coffee and buns!” There was no reply.

They stepped through the door.

The Sun Dome was empty and dark. There was no synthetic yellow sun floating in a high gaseous whisper at the center of the blue ceiling. There was no food waiting. It was cold as a vault. And through a thousand holes which had been newly punctured in the ceiling water streamed, the rain fell down, soaking into the thick rugs and the heavy modern furniture and splashing on the glass tables. The jungle was growing up like a moss in the room, on top of the bookcases and the divans. The rain slashed through the holes and fell upon the three men’s faces.

Pickard began to laugh quietly. “Shut up, Pickard!”

“Ye gods, look what’s here for us—no food, no sun, nothing. The Venusians—they did it! Of course!”

Simmons nodded, with the rain funneling down on his face. The water ran in his silvered hair and on his white eyebrows. “Every once in a while the Venusians come up out of the sea and attack a Sun Dome. They know if they ruin the Sun Domes they can ruin us.”

“But aren’t the Sun Domes protected with guns?”

“Sure.” Simmons stepped aside to a place that was relatively dry. “But it’s been five years since the Venusians tried anything. Defense relaxes. They caught this Dome unaware.”

“Where are the bodies?”

“The Venusians took them all down into the sea. I hear they have a delightful way of drowning you. It takes about eight hours to drown the way they work it. Really delightful.”

“I bet there isn’t any food here at all.” Pickard laughed.

The lieutenant frowned at him, nodded at him so Simmons could see. Simmons shook his head and went back to a room at one side of the oval chamber. The kitchen was strewn with soggy loaves of bread, and meat that had grown a faint green fur. Rain came through a hundred holes in the kitchen roof.

“Without food, sir?” Simmons snorted. “I notice the sun machine’s torn apart. Our best bet is to make our way to the next Sun Dome. How far is that from here?”

“Not far. As I recall, they built two rather close together here. Perhaps if we waited here, a rescue mission from the other might——”

“It’s probably been here and gone already, some days ago. They’ll send a crew to repair this place in about six months, when they get the money from Congress. I don’t think we’d better wait.”

“All right then, we’ll eat what’s left of our rations and get on to the next Dome.”

Pickard said, “If only the rain wouldn’t hit my head, just for a few minutes. If I could only remember what it’s like not to be bothered.” He put his hands on his skull and held it tight. “I remember when I was in school a bully used to sit in back of me and pinch me and pinch me and pinch me every five minutes, all day long. He did that for weeks and months. My arms were sore and black and blue all the time. And I thought I’d go crazy from being pinched. One day I must have gone a little mad from being hurt and hurt, and I turned around and took a metal trisquare I used in mechanical drawing and I almost killed that bastard. I almost cut his lousy head off. I almost took his eye out before they dragged me out of the room, and I kept yelling, ‘Why don’t he leave me alone? why don’t he leave me alone?’ Brother!” His hands clenched the bone of his head, shaking, tightening, his eyes shut. “But what do I do now? Who do I hit, who do I tell to lay off, stop bothering me, this damn rain, like the pinching, always on you, that’s all you hear, that’s all you feel!”

“We’ll be at the other Sun Dome by four this afternoon.”

“Sun Dome? Look at this one! What if all the Sun Domes on Venus are gone? What then? What if there are holes in all the ceilings, and the rain coming in!”

“We’ll have to chance it.”

“I’m tired of chancing it. All I want is a roof and some quiet. I want to be alone.” “That’s only eight hours off, if you hold on.”

“Let’s eat,” said Simmons, watching him.

They set off down the coast, southward again. After four hours they had to cut inland to go around a river that was a mile wide and so swift it was not navigable by boat. They had to walk inland six miles to a place where the river boiled out of the earth, suddenly, like a mortal wound. In the rain, they walked on solid ground and returned to the sea.

“I’ve got to sleep,” said Pickard at last. He slumped. “Haven’t slept in four weeks. Tried, but couldn’t. Sleep here.”

They lay out full, propping their heads up so the water wouldn’t come to their mouths, and they closed their eyes.

The lieutenant twitched. He did not sleep.

There were things that crawled on his skin. Things grew upon him in layers. Drops fell and touched other drops and they became streams that trickled over his body, and while these moved down his flesh, the small growths of the forest took root in his clothing. He felt the ivy cling and make a second garment over him; he felt the small flowers bud and open and petal away, and still the rain pattered on his body and on his head. In the luminous night—for the vegetation glowed in the darkness—he could see the other two men outlined, like logs that had fallen and taken upon themselves velvet coverings of grass and flowers. The rain hit his face. He covered his face with his

hands. The rain hit his neck. He turned over on his stomach in the mud, on the rubbery plants, and the rain hit his back and hit his legs.

Suddenly he leaped up and began to brush the water from himself. A thousand hands were touching him and he no longer wanted to be touched. He no longer could stand being touched. He floundered and struck something else and knew that it was Simmons, standing up in the rain, sneezing moisture, coughing and choking. And then Pickard was up, shouting, running about.

“Wait a minute, Pickard!”

“Stop it, stop it!” Pickard screamed. He fired off his gun six times at the night sky. In the flashes of powdery illumination they could see armies of raindrops, suspended as in a vast motionless amber, for an instant, hesitating as if shocked by the explosion, fifteen billion droplets, fifteen billion tears, fifteen billion ornaments, jewels standing out against a white velvet viewing board. And then, with the light gone, the drops which had waited to have their pictures taken, which had suspended their downward rush, fell upon them, stinging, in an insect cloud of coldness and pain.

“Stop it! Stop it!” “Pickard!”

But Pickard was only standing now, alone. When the lieutenant switched on a small hand lamp and played it over Pickard’s wet face, the eyes of the man were dilated, and his mouth was open, his face turned up, so the water hit and splashed on his tongue, and hit and drowned the wide eyes, and bubbled in a whispering froth on the nostrils.

“Pickard!”

The man would not reply. He simply stood there for a long while with the bubbles of rain breaking out in his whitened hair and manacles of rain jewels dripping from his wrists and his neck.

“Pickard! We’re leaving. We’re going on. Follow us.” The rain dripped from Pickard’s ears.

“Do you hear me, Pickard!”

It was like shouting down a well. “Pickard!”

“Leave him alone,” said Simmons. “We can’t go on without him.”

“What’ll we do, carry him?” Simmons spat. “He’s no good to us or himself. You know what he’ll do?

He’ll just stand here and drown.” “What?”

“You ought to know that by now. Don’t you know the story? He’ll just stand here with his head up and let the rain come in his nostrils and his mouth. He’ll breathe the water.”

“That’s how they found General Mendt that time. Sitting on a rock with his head back, breathing the rain. His lungs were full of water.”

The  lieutenant  turned  the  light  back  to  the  unblinking face.  Pickard’s  nostrils  gave  off a  tiny whispering wet sound.

“Pickard!” The lieutenant slapped the face.

“He can’t even feel you,” said Simmons. “A few days in this rain and you don’t have any face or any legs or hands.”

The lieutenant looked at his own hand in horror. He could no longer feel it. “But we can’t leave Pickard here.”

“I’ll show you what we can do.” Simmons fired his gun. Pickard fell into the raining earth.

Simmons said, “Don’t move, Lieutenant. I’ve got my gun ready for you too. Think it over; he would only have stood or sat there and drowned. It’s quicker this way.”

The lieutenant blinked at the body. “But you killed him.”

“Yes, because he’d have killed us by being a burden. You saw his face. Insane.” After a moment the lieutenant nodded. “All right.”

They walked off into the rain. It was dark and their hand lamps threw a beam that pierced the rain for only a few feet. After a half hour they had to stop and sit through the rest of the night, aching with hunger, waiting for the dawn to come; when it did come it was gray and continually raining as before, and they began to walk again.

“We’ve miscalculated,” said Simmons. “No. Another hour.”

“Speak louder. I can’t hear you.” Simmons stopped and smiled. “By Christ,” he said, and touched his ears. “My ears. They’ve gone out on me. All the rain pouring finally numbed me right down to the bone.”

“Can’t you hear anything?” said the lieutenant. “What?” Simmons’s eyes were puzzled. “Nothing. Come on.”

“I think I’ll wait here. You go on ahead.” “You can’t do that.”

“I can’t hear you. You go on. I’m tired. I don’t think the Sun Dome is down this way. And, if it is, it’s probably got holes in the roof, like the last one. I think I’ll just sit here.”

“Get up from there!” “So long, Lieutenant.”

“You can’t give up now.”

“I’ve got a gun here that says I’m staying. I just don’t give a damn any more. I’m not crazy yet, but I’m the next thing to it. I don’t want to go out that way. As soon as you get out of sight I’m going to use this gun on myself.”

“Simmons!”

“You said my name. I can read that much off your lips.” “Simmons.”

“Look, it’s a matter of time. Either I die now or in a few hours. Wait’ll you get to that next Dome, if you ever get there, and find rain coming in through the roof. Won’t that be nice?”

The lieutenant waited and then splashed off in the rain. He turned and called back once, but Simmons was only sitting there with the gun in his hands, waiting for him to get out of sight. He shook his head and waved the lieutenant on.

The lieutenant didn’t even hear the sound of the gun.

He began to eat the flowers as he walked. They stayed down for a time, and weren’t poisonous; neither were they particularly sustaining, and he vomited them up, sickly, a minute or so later.

“Another five minutes,” he told himself. “Another five minutes and then I’ll walk into the sea and keep walking. We weren’t made for this; no Earthman was or ever will be able to take it. Your nerves, your nerves.

He floundered his way through a sea of slush and foliage and came to a small hill. At a distance there was a faint yellow smudge in the cold veils of water.

The next Sun Dome.

Through the trees, a long round yellow building, far away. For a moment he only stood, swaying, looking at it.

He began to run and then he slowed down, for he was afraid. He didn’t call out. What if it’s the same one? What if it’s the dead Sun Dome, with no sun in it? he thought.

He slipped and fell. Lie here, he thought; it’s the wrong one. Lie here. It’s no use. Drink all you want. But he managed to climb to his feet again and crossed several creeks, and the yellow light grew very

bright, and he began to run again, his feet crashing into mirrors and glass, his arms flailing at diamonds and precious stones.

He stood before the yellow door. The printed letters over it said THE SUN DOME. He put his numb hand up to feel it. Then he twisted the doorknob and stumbled in.

He stood for a moment looking about. Behind him the rain whirled at the door. Ahead of him, upon a low table, stood a silver pot of hot chocolate, steaming, and a cup, full, with a marshmallow in it. An beside that, on another tray, stood thick sandwiches of rich chicken meat and fresh-cut tomatoes and green onions. And on a rod just before his eyes was a great thick green Turkish towel, and a bin in which to throw wet clothes, and, to his right, a small cubicle in which heat rays might dry you instantly. And upon a chair, a fresh change of uniform, waiting for anyone—himself, or any lost one—to make use of it. And farther over, coffee in steaming copper urns, and a phonograph from which music was playing quietly, and books bound in red and brown leather. And near the books a cot, a soft deep cot upon which one might lie, exposed and bare, to drink in the rays of the one great bright thing which dominated the long room.

He put his hands to his eyes. He saw other men moving toward him, but said nothing to them. He waited, and opened his eyes, and looked. The water from his uniform pooled at his feet and he felt it drying from his hair and his face and his chest and his arms and his legs.

He was looking at the sun.

It hung in the center of the room, large and yellow and warm. It made not a sound, and there was no sound in the room. The door was shut and the rain only a memory to his tingling body. The sun hung high in the blue sky of the room, warm, hot, yellow, and very fine.

He walked forward, tearing off his clothes as he went.

Some Considerations

This story, like most of the science fiction works that I read in the 1960’s and 1970’s greatly influenced my life. I believe that I first read this story on a lazy fall weekend in late September. The leaves were crisp and just beginning to fall. It was warm, but not hot. It was calm and I was enjoying reading this story on a porch glider that we had on our porch. I just laid there, swinging back and forth, reading this masterpiece.

Early fall
I spent my boyhood in the hills of Western Pennsylvania. It was a place of hills, forests, rivers, and coal mines. I came from a small town. It was peaceful and quiet and everyone knew everyone else.

Conclusions

Today, students pay tuition at colleges and universities to read these stories. They pay enormous amounts of money, and are given tests and handouts to analyze the work. It seems like a fool’s errand to me.

You read for enjoyment, and if it evokes emotions within your very being then it is a work of art. Cherish it.

That’s never going to happen if you read a cliffs notes version so you can get a grade on a test. Life is about living. You can live, or you can follow the herd. I would suggest that you make the most out of your life. I would suggest you start doing it now.

Take Aways

  • The Long Rain is a short story by Ray Bradbury.
  • It is classified as Science Fiction.
  • It takes place on a fictional Venus where it is continuously raining.
  • The story evokes feelings of desperation, strife, fear and longing. Finally culminating in relief.

FAQ

Q: What is this story “The Long Rain” about?
A: The story takes place on a fictional Venus where there is a continuous rain. However, that is not what the story is about. It is about emotions that play when situations are encountered. When I read the story, I am reminded about a time when I was in second grade and walked home from school in the rain. I came home and my mother dried me off, and set me to the table and got me a big hot cup of coca with marsh-mellows in it and a nice warm bowl of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. The story, by Ray Bradbury, evokes those same feelings.

Q: Why is this story in your blog?
A: I used to bookmark websites that I liked, and I would return to them periodically to read and enjoy. Over time, the websites would disappear, or turn into something else. The search engines, such as Google, would prioritize other (often profit motive) websites before the ones I was interested in. They would also block others that I enjoyed. China blocks many websites, and slows internet traffic to a crawl on others. I no longer have the luxury to simply bookmark something I like. I need to preserve it’s access. Thus I place it herein for my own personal use.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 27SEP18.
  2. Completed 27SEP18.
  3. SEO Review 27SEP18.
  4. Publish 27SEP18.

Here There Be Tygers by Ray Bradbury

This story was copyrighted in 1951 by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.

Introduction

For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration.  Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.

It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.

I have found this version of the story “Here There be Tygers” on The Mother Earth News, and I have copied it here exactly as found. Credit to the wonderful people at Mother Earth News for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.

Full Text

Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.

Here There Be Tygers by Ray Bradbury

"You have to beat a planet at its own game," said Chatterton." Get in and rip it up, kill its snakes, poison its animals, dam its rivers, sow its fields, depollinate its air, mine it, nail it down, hack away at it, and get the blazes out from under when you have what you want. Otherwise, a planet will fix you good. You can't trust planets. They're bound to be different, bound to be bad, bound to be out to get you, especially this far out, a billion miles from nowhere, so you get them first. Tear their skin off, I say. Drag out the minerals and run away before the nightmare world explodes in your face. That's the way to treat them."

The rocket ship sank down toward planet 7 of star system 84. They had traveled millions upon millions of miles; Earth was far away, her system and her sun forgotten, her system settled and investigated and profited on, and other systems rummaged through and milked and tidied tip, and now the rockets of these tiny men from an impossibly remote planet were probing out to far universes. In a few months, a few years, they could travel anywhere, for the speed of their rocket was the speed of a god, and now for the ten-thousandth time one of the rockets of the far-circling hunt was feathering down toward an alien world.

"No," said Captain Forester."I have too much respect for other worlds to treat them the way you want to, Chatterton. It's not my business to rape or ruin anyway, thank God. I'm glad I'm just a rocket man. You're the anthropologist-mineralogist. Go ahead, do your mining and ripping and scraping. I'll just watch. I'll just go around looking at this new world, whatever it is, however it seems. I like to look. All rocket men are lookers or they wouldn't be rocket men. You like to smell new airs, if you're a rocket man, and see new oceans and islands."

"Take your gun along," said Chatterton. "in my holster," said Forester.

They turned to the port together and saw the green world rising to meet their ship."I wonder what it thinks of us?" said Forester.

"It won't like me" said Chatterton "I'll see to it 'It' won't like me. And I don't care. you know, I'm out for the money. Land us over there, will you. Captain; that looks like rich country if I ever saw it."

It was the freshest green color they had seen since childhood.

Lakes lay like clear blue water droplets through the soft hills; there were no loud highways, signboards or cities. It's a sea of green golf links, thought Forester, which goes on forever. Putting greens, driving greens, you could walk ten thousand miles in any direction and never finish your game. A Sunday planet a croquet-lawn world, where,you could lie on your back, clover in your lips, eyes half shut, smiling at the sky, smelling the grass, drowse through an eternal Sabbath, rousing only on occasion to turn the Sunday paper or crack the red-striped wooden ball through the wicket.

"It ever a planet was a woman, this one is/"

"Woman on the outside, man on the inside," said Chatterton. "All hard underneath, all male iron, copper, uranium, black sod. Don't let the cosmetics fool you."

He walked to the bin where the Earth Drill waited. Its great screw-snout glittered bluely, ready to stab seventy feet deep and suck out corks of earth, deeper still with extensions into the heart of the planet Chatterton winked at it"We'll fix your planet, Forester, but good"

"Yes, I know you will," said Forester, quietly,

The rocket landed.

"It's too green, too peaceful," said Chatterton. "I don't like it" He turned to the captain. "We'll go out with our rifles."

"I give orders. If you don't mind"

"Yes, and my company pays our way with millions of dollars of machinery we must protect; quite an investment."

The air on the new planet 7 in star system 84 was good. The port swung wide. The men filed out into the greenhouse world.

The last man to emerge was Chatterton, gun in hand.

As Chatterton set foot to the green lawn, the earth trembled. The grass shook. The distant forest rumbled, The sky seemed to blink and darken imperceptibly, The men were watching Chatterton when it happened.

"An earthquake!"

Chatterton's face paled. Everyone laughed.

"It doesn't like you, Chatterton!"

"Nonsense!"

The trembling died away at last.

"Well," said Captain Forester." It didn't quake for us, so It must be that it doesn't approve of your philosophy."

"Coincidence," Chatterton smiled weakly, "Come on now, on the double, I want the Drill out here in a half hour for a few samplings."

"Just a moment," Forester stopped laughing. "We've got to clear the area first, be certain there're no hostile people or animals, Besides, it isn't every year you hit a planet like this very nice; can you blame us if we want to have a look at it?"

"All right," Chatterton joined them, "Let's get it over with."

They left a guard at the ship and they walked away over fields and meadows, over small hills and into little valleys. Like a bunch of boys out hiking on the finest day of the best summer in the most beautiful year in history, walking in the croquet weather where, if you listened you could hear the whisper of the wooden ball across grass, the click through the wicket, the gentle undulations of voices, a sudden high drift of women's laughter from some ivy shaded porch, the tinkle of ice in the summer tea pitcher.

"Hey," said Driscoll, one of the younger crewmen, sniffing the air, "I brought a baseball and bat; we'll have a game later. What a diamond!"

The men laughed quietly in the baseball season, in the good quiet wind for tennis, in the weather for bicycling and picking wild grapes.

"How'd you like the job of mowing all this?" asked Driscoll.

The men stopped.

"I knew there was something wrong!" cried Chatterton, "This grass: it's freshly cut!

"Probably a species of dichondra: always short."

Chatterton spat on the green grass and rubbed it in with his boot, "I don't like it, I don't like it. If anything happened to us, no one on Earth would ever know. Silly policy: if a rocket fails to return, we never send a second rocket to check the reason why."

"Natural enough," explained Forester, "We can't waste time on a thousand hostile worlds, fighting futile wars. Each rocket represents years, money, lives. We can't afford to waste two rockets if one rocket proves a planet hostile. We go on to peaceful planets, like this one."

"I often wonder," said Driscoll, "What happened to all those lost expeditions on worlds we'll never try again."

Chatterton eyed the distant forest,"They were shot, stabbed, broiled for dinner, Even as we may be, any minute. It's time we got back to work, Captain!

They stood at the top to a little rise.

"Feel," said Driscoll, his hands and arms out loosely, "Remember how you used to run when you were it kid, and how the wind felt, Like feathers on your arms, You ran and thought any minute you'd fly, but you never quite did."

The men stood remembering, There was a smell of pollen and new rain drying upon a million grass blades.

Driscoll gave a little run. "Feel it, by God, the wind. You know, we never have really flown by ourselves. We have to sit inside tons of metal, away from flying, really. We've never flown like birds fly, to themselves, Wouldn't it be nice to, put your arms out like this —" He extended his arms, "And run." He ran ahead of them, laughing out his idiocy. "And fly!" he cried.

He flew.

Time passed on the silent gold wristwatches of the men standing below, They stared up. And from the sky came a high sound of almost unbelievable laughter.

"Tell him to come down now," whispered Chatterton. "He'll be killed."

Nobody heard. Their faces were raised away front Chatterton: they were stunned and smiling.

At last Driscoll landed at their feet.

"Did you see me?" "I flew!"

They had seen.

"Lets get down, oh, Lord. Lord." Driscoll slapped his knees, chuckling. "I'm a sparrow, I'm a hawk, God bless me. Go on all of you, try it!"

"It's the wind, it picked me up and flew me!" he said, a moment later, gasping, shivering with delight.

"Let's get out of here." Chatterton started turning, slowly in circles, watching the blue sky. "It's a trap, it wants us all to fly in the air. Then it'll drop its all at once and kill us. I'm going back to the ship."

"You'll wait for my order on that," said Forester,

The men were frowning, standing in the warm cool air, while the wind sighed about them. There was a kite sound in the air, a sound of eternal March.

"I asked the wind to fly me." said Driscoll. "And it did!"

Forester waved the others aside. "I'll chance it next. If I'm killed, back to the ship, all of you."

"I'm sorry. I can't allow this, you're the captain," said Chatterton. "We can't risk you." He took out his gun.

"I should have some sort of authority or force here. This game's gone on too long; I'm ordering us back to the ship."

"Holster your gun," said Forester, quietly.

"Stand still you idiot."

Chatterton blinked now at this man, now at that.

"Haven't you felt it'! This world's alive, it has a look to it, it's playing with us, biding its time."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Forester. "You're going back to the ship in a moment, under arrest, if you don't put up that gun."

"If you fools won't come with me, you can die out here. I'm going back, get my samples, and get out."

"Chatterton!"

"Don't try to stop me!"

Chatterton started to run. Then suddenly, he gave a cry.

Everyone shouted and looked up. "There he goes," said Driscoll.

Chatterton was up in the sky.

Night had come on like the closing of a great but gentle eye. Chatterton sat stunned on the side of the hill. The other men sat around him, exhausted and laughing. He would not look at them, he would not look at the sky, he would only feel of the earth, and his arms and his legs and his body, tightening in on himself.

"Oh, wasn't it perfect!" said a man named Koestler.

They had all flown like orioles and eagles and sparrows, and they were all happy.

"Come out of it, Chatterton, it was fun, wasn't it?"' said Koestler.

"It's impossible." Chatterton shut his eyes, tight, tight. "There's only one way for it to do it; it's alive. The air's alive. Like a fist it picked me up. Any minute now, it can kill its all. It's alive."

"All right," said Koestler. "Say it's alive." "And a living thing must have purpose. Suppose the purpose of this world is to make us happy."

As if to add to this, Driscoll came flying up, canteens in each hand. "I found a creek, tested and found pure water, wait'll you try it!"

Forester took a canteen, nudged Chatterton with it, offering a drink. Chetterton shook his head and drew hastily away. He put his hands over his face. "It's the blood of this planet. Living blood. Drink that, put that inside and you put this world inside you to peer out your eyes and listen through your ears. No thanks!"

Forester shrugged and drank.

"Wine!" he said.

"It can't be!"

"It is! Smell it, taste it! A rare white wine!"

"French domestic." Driscoll sipped his.

"Poison," said Chatterton.

They passed the canteens around.

They had idled on through the gentle afternoon, not wanting to do anything to disturb the peace that lay all about them. They were like very young men in the presence of great beauty, of a fine and famous woman, afraid that by some word, some gesture, they might turn her face away, avert her loveliness and her kindly attentions. They had felt the earthquake that had greeted Chatterton, and they did not want earthquake. Let them enjoy this "Day After School Lets Out", this fishing weather. Let them sit under the shade trees or walk on the tender hills, but let them drill no drillings, test no testings, contaminate no contaminations.

They found a small stream which poured into a boiling water pool. Fish, swimming in the cold creek above, fell glittering into the hot spring and floated, minutes later, cooked, to the surface.

Chatterton reluctantly joined the others, eating.

"It'll poison us all. There's always a trick to things like this. I'm sleeping in the rocket tonight. You can sleep out if you want. To quote a map I saw in medieval history: 'Here there be tygers.' Some time tonight when you're sleeping, the tigers and cannibals will show up."

Forester shook his head. "I'll go along with you, this planet is alive. It's a race itself. But it needs us to show off to, to appreciate its beauty. What's the use of a stage full of miracles if there's no audience?"

But Chatterton was busy. He was bent over, being sick.

"I'm poisoned! Poisoned!"

They held his shoulders until the sickness passed. They gave him water. The others were feeling fine.

"Better eat nothing but ship's food from now on," advised Forester. "It'd be safer."

"We're starting work right now." Chatterton swayed, wiping his mouth. "We've wasted a whole day. I'll work alone if I have to. I'll show this infernal place!"

He staggered away toward the rocket.

"He doesn't know when he's well off," murmured Driscoll. "Can't we stop him, Captain?"

"He practically owns the expedition. We don't have to help him, there's a clause in our contract that guarantees refusal to work under dangerous conditions. So . . . do unto this 'Picnic Ground' as you would have it do unto you. No initial-cutting on the trees. Replace the turf on the greens. Clean up your banana peels after you."

Now, below, in the ship there was an immense humming. From the storage port rolled the great shining Drill. Chatterton followed it, calling directions to its robot radio. "This way, here!

"You fool."

"Now!" cried Chatterton.

The Drill plunged its long screw-bore into the green grass. Chatterton waved up at the other men. "Watch this!"

The sky trembled.

The Drill stood in the center of a little sea of grass. For a moment it plunged away, bringing up moist corks of sod which it spat unceremoniously into a shaking analysis bin.

Now the Drill gave a wrenched, metallic squeal like a monster interrupted at its feed. From the soil beneath it slow bluish liquids bubbled up.

Chatterton shouted, "Get back, you fool!"

The Drill lumbered in a prehistoric dance. It shrieked like a mighty train turning on a sharp curve, throwing out red sparks. It was sinking. The black slime gave under it in a dark convulsion.

With a coughing sigh, a series of pants and churnings, the Drill sank into a black scum like an elephant shot and dying, trumpeting, like a mammoth at the end of an age, vanishing limb by ponderous limb into the pit.

"Fool. Fool," said Forester under his breath, fascinated with the scene. "You know what that is, Driscoll? It's tar. The fool machine hit a tar pit!"

"Listen, listen!" cried Chatterton at the Drill, running about on the edge of the oily lake. "This way, over here!"

But like the old tyrants of the earth, the dinosaurs with their tubed and screaming necks, the Drill was plunging and thrashing in the one lake from where there was no returning to bask on the firm and understandable shore.

Chatterton turned to the other men far away. "Do something, someone!"

The Drill was gone.

The tar pit bubbled and gloated, sucking the hidden monster bones. The surface of the pool was silent. A huge bubble, the last, rose, expelled a scent of ancient petroleum, and fell apart.

The men came down and stood on the edge of the little black sea.

Chatterton stopped yelling.

After a long minute of staring into the silent tar pool, Chatterton turned and looked at the hills, blindly, at the green rolling lawns. The distant trees were growing fruit now and dropping it, softly, to the ground.

"I'll show it," he said quietly.

"Take it easy, Chatterton."

"I'll fix it," he said.

"Sit down, have a drink."

"I'll fix it good, I'll show it, it can't do this to me."

Chatterton started off back to the ship.

"Wait a minute now," said Forester.

Chatterton ran. "I know what to do, I know how to fix it!"

"Stop him!" said Forester. He ran, then remembered he could fly. "The A-Bomb's on the ship, if he should get to that . . . ."

The other men had thought of that and were in the air. A small grove of trees stood between the rocket and Chatterton as he ran on the ground, forgetting that he could fly, or afraid to fly, or not allowed to fly, yelling. The crew headed for the rocket to wait for him, the captain with them. They arrived, formed a line, and shut the rocket port. The last they saw of Chatterton he was plunging through the edge of the tiny forest.

The crew stood waiting.

". . . That fool, that crazy guy."

Chatterton didn't come out on the other side of the small woodland.

"He's turned back, waiting for us to relax our guard."

"Go bring him in," said Forester.

Two men flew off.

Now, softly, a great and gentle rain fell upon the green world.

"The final touch," said Driscoll. "We'd never have to build houses here. Notice it's not raining on us. It's raining all around, ahead, behind us. What a world!"

They stood dry in the middle of the blue, cool rain. The sun was setting. The moon, a large one the color of ice, rose over the freshened hills.

"There's only one more thing this world needs."

"Yes," said everyone, thoughtfully, slowly.

"We'll have to go looking," said Driscol. "It's logical, The wind flies us, the trees and streams feed us, everything is alive. Perhaps if we asked for companionship . . . ."

"I've thought a long time, today and other days," said Koestler. "We're all bachelors, been traveling for years, and tired of it. Wouldn't it be nice to settle down somewhere! Here, maybe. On Earth you sweat just to save enough to buy a house, pay taxes; the cities stink. Here, you won't even need a house, with this weather. If it gets monotonous you can ask for rain, clouds, snow, changes. You don't have to work here for anything."

"It'd be boring. We'd go crazy."

"No," Koestler said, smiling. "If life got too soft, all we'd have to do is repeat a few times what Chatterton said: 'Here there be tygers. Listen!'"

Far away, wasn't there the faintest roar of a giant cat, hidden in the twilight forests?

The men shivered.

"A versatile world," said Koestler dryly. "A woman who'll do anything to please her guests, as long as we're kind to her. Chatterton wasn't kind."

"Chatterton. What about him?"

As if to answer this, someone cried from a distance. The two men who had flown off to find Chatterton were waving at the edge of the woods.

Forester, Driscoll, and Koestler flew down alone.

"What's up?"

The men pointed into the forest."Thought you'd want to see this, Captain. It's eerie." One of the men indicated a pathway. "Look here, sir."

The marks of great claws stood on the path, fresh and clear.

"And over here." A few drops of blood. A heavy smell of some feline animal hung in the air.

"Chatterton?"

"I don't think we'll ever find him, Captain."

Faintly, faintly, moving away, now gone in the breathing silence of twilight, came the roar of a tiger.

The men lay on the resilient grass by the rocket and the night was warm. "Reminds me of nights when I was a kid," said Driscoll. "My brother and I waited for the hottest night in July and then we slept on the Court House lawn, counting the stars, talking; it was a great night, the best night of my life." Then he added, "Not counting tonight, of course."

"I keep thinking about Chatterton," said Koestler.

"Don't," said Forester. "We'll sleep a few hours and take off. We can't chance staying here another day. I don't mean the danger that got Chatterton. No. I mean, if we stayed on we'd get to liking this world too much. We'd never want to leave."

A soft wind blew over them.

"I don't want to leave now." Driscoll put his hands behind his head, lying quietly. "And it doesn't want us to leave."

"If we go back to Earth and tell everyone what a lovely planet it is, what then, Captain?' They'll come smashing in here and ruin it."

"No," said Forester idly. "First, this planet wouldn't put up with a full-scale invasion. I don't know what it'd do, but it could probably think of some interesting things. Secondly, I like this planet too much; I respect it. We'll go back to Earth and lie about it. Say it's hostile. Which it would be to the average man, like Chatterton, jumping in here to hurt it. I guess we won't be lying after all."

"Funny thing," said Koestler. "I'm not afraid. Chatterton vanishes, is killed most horribly, perhaps, yet we lie here, no one runs, no one trembles. It's idiotic. Yet it's right. We trust it and it trusts us."

"Did you notice, after you drank just so much of the wine-water, you didn't want more? A world of moderation."

They lay listening to something like the great heart of this earth beating slowly and warmly under their bodies.

Forester thought, I'm thirsty.

A drop of rain splashed on his lips.

He laughed quietly.

I'm lonely, he thought.

Distantly he heard soft, high voices.

He turned his eyes in upon a vision. There was a group of hills from which flowed a clear river, and in the shallows of that river, sending up spray, their faces shimmering, were the beautiful women. They played like children on the shore. And it came to Forester to know about them and their life. They were nomads, roaming the face of this world as was their desire. There were no highways or cities, there were only hills and plains and winds to carry them like white feathers where they wished. As Forester shaped the questions, some invisible answerer whispered the answers. There were no men. These women, alone, produced their race. The men had vanished fifty thousand years ago. And where were these women now? A mile down from the green forest, a mile over on the wine stream by the six white stones, and a third mile to the large river. There, in the shallows, were the women who would make fine wives, and raise beautiful children.

Forester opened his eyes. The other men were sitting up.

"I had a dream."

They had all dreamed.

"A mile flown from the green forest a mile over on the wine stream . . . ."

". . . by the six white stones," said Koestler.

". . . and a third mile to the large river," said Driscoll, sitting there.

Nobody spoke again for at moment. They looked at the silver rocket standing there in the starlight

"Do we walk or fly, Captain?"

Forester said nothing.

Driscoll said, "Captain, let's stay. Let's never go back to Earth. They'll never come and investigate to see what happened to us; they'll think we were destroyed here. What do you say?"

Forester's face was perspiring. His tongue moved again and again on his lips. His hands twitched over his knees. The crew sat waiting.

"It'd be nice," said the captain.

"Sure."

"But . . ." Forester sighed. "We've got our job to do. People invested in our ship. We owe it to them to go back."

Forester got up. The men still sat on the ground, not listening to him.

"It's such a fine, nice, wonderful night," said Koestler.

They stared at the soft hills and the trees and the rivers running off to other horizons.

"Let's get aboard ship," said Forester, with difficulty.

"Captain . . . ."

"Get aboard," he said.

The rocket rose into the sky. Looking back, Forester saw every valley and every tiny lake.

"We should've stayed." said Koestler.

"Yes, I know."

"It's not too late, to turn back."

"I'm afraid it is." Forester made an adjustment on the port telescope. "Look now."

Koestler looked.

The face of the world was changed. Tiger, dinosaurs, mammoths appeared. Volcanoes erupted cyclones and hurricanes tore over the hills in a welter and fury of weather.

"Yes, she was a woman all right," said Forester. "Waiting for visitors for millions of years, preparing herself, making herself beautiful. She put on her best face for us. When Chatterton treated her badly, she warned him a few times, and then, when he tried to ruin her beauty, eliminated him. She wanted to be loved, like every woman, for herself, not for her wealth. So now, after she had offered us everything, we turn our backs. She's the woman scorned. She let us go, yes, but we can never come back. She'll be waiting for us with those . . ." He nodded to the tigers and the cyclones and the boiling seas.

"Captain," said Koestler

"Yes."

"It's a little late to tell you this. But just before we took off, I was in charge of the air lock. I let Driscoll slip away from the ship. He wanted to go. I couldn't refuse him. I'm responsible. He's back there now, on that planet."

They both turned to the viewing port.

After a long while, Forester said. "I'm glad. I'm glad one of us had enough sense to stay."

"But he's dead by now!

"No, that display down there is for us, perhaps a visual hallucination. Under all the tigers and lions and hurricanes, Driscoll is quite safe and alive, because he's her only audience now. Oh, she'll spoil him rotten. He'll lead a wonderful life. He will, while we're slugging it out up and down the system looking for but never finding a planet quite like this again. No. We won't try to go back and rescue Driscoll, I don't think 'she' would let us anyway. Full speed ahead, Koestler, make it full speed."

The rocket leaped forward into greater accelerations.

And just before the planet dwindled away in brightness and mist, Forester imagined that he could see Driscoll very clearly, walking away down from the green forest, whistling quietly, all of the fresh planet around him, a wine creek flowing for him, baked fish lolling in the hot springs, fruit ripening in the midnight trees, and distant forests and lakes waiting for him to happen by. Driscoll walked away across the endless green lawns near the white stones, beyond the forest, to the edge of the large bright river . . . .

Conclusions

Often we are given opportunities that will transform our life. But, out of ignorance, fear, or habit, we ignore the opportunity. It passes us by. Once gone, it is gone forever. We end up regretting our life. We look back with nostalgia for what could have been.

This is the story of mankind and how we have abused the world we live in. This is the story of me, and you, who have passed up wonderful companions, opportunities and adventures, for some trivial reason or the other. This is the story of the bane of our educational system that focuses on goals instead of appreciation of the moments we live.

Appreciate what you have. Be aware of opportunities and take them when they present themselves to you. For only YOU can control your life. This reality is YOURS. Please don’t squander it.

Take Aways

"Here There Be Tygers" is a short story by American writer Ray Bradbury, originally published in the anthology New Tales of Space and Time in 1951. It was later collected in Bradbury's short story collections R is for Rocket and The Golden Apples of the Sun. It deals with a rocket expedition sent to a planet to see whether or not its natural resources can be harvested for the human race. They discover a paradise which seems to provide for them whatever they desire even as they think of it. They ultimately decide to leave the planet and report that it is hostile and of no benefit to humans. 

-Wikipedia
  • The Wikipedia entry above is a pale reflection of the content of the story.
  • Cliff Notes should never be used for short stories. Just read the stories yourself and come to your own conclusions.
  • I hope that this story was as enjoyable for you the reader as it was for myself.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Generated 22SEP18
  2. Conclusion 22SEP18.
  3. SEO REview 22SEP18.
  4. Published 22SEP18.

The Hazing of New Employees – A Lost Tradition

Up until the 1980’s, the “hazing” of new employees was a time-honored tradition. Here, the new employees would be given the crappiest jobs, told to do the hardest things, and treated horribly. This all seemed to disappear in the middle 1980’s. This article is dedicated to all those older workers who had to endure the “hazing” period and what it was like…

Introduction

Today, little remains of the old days of Hazing. You can see it on College campuses and universities when people “rush” to join a sorority or a fraternity. That’s about it. The hazing during High School has pretty much been eliminated. With the only vestiges of it being the movie “Dazed and Confused“.

Dazed and Confused.
In the movie “Dazed and Confused”, High School Seniors were shown “hazing” middle school students who had graduated into High School.

People have forgotten that “hazing” was an important part of life. You went through it numerous times in your life, and one of the most harrowing was when you started work at a new job. Here, we look at this aspect of life. In it, I describe the hazing rituals that I experienced in Western Pennsylvania in the 1970’s.

Hazing in the Coal Mines

One of the first jobs that I had was in the coal mines when I was 14 years old. My father believed that the role of a man was to work, and to earn enough to provide for a family. That was what “being a man” was. Now, the law put limits on the hours and the conditions that I would work under. Never the less, I was introduced to work on the rock crusher at 14.

tipple
Here is a typical tipple in Pennsylvania. The trucks or trains would carry huge chunks of coal from the mine to the tipple. They would be dumped into a hopper that fed into a rock crusher. Then the broken coal would be scanned for debris and loaded into hoppers below. My first job was to stand over the rock crusher and make sure none of the coal would get hung up. I would have to crawl above the “jaws of death” and bash the rock with a hand sledge to break it up.

The job itself was pretty darn straight forward. I would stand above the rock crusher on metal slats. These were steel flat bars that formed a grid over the crusher. The goal was to stand on top of them, and not slip between them. They were spaced about a yard apart to left the huge chunks of coal to fall down below. I was given a large pole to help push the coal into place, and a hand sledge to break up the rocks.

Many a time I would slip on the slippery mud covered slats. I would fall down between the slats and have to climb my way back up to the top again as the coal would be moving towards the crushing death below. I would often lose my helmet as it was ultimately ground up into tiny busted up flakes of plastic.

Coal miners
Coal miners Rodney Blankenship (L), Roger Vanatter (C) and an unidentified colleague prepare for the start of their afternoon shift in the locker room of a coal mine near Gilbert, West Virginia May 22, 2014. Blankenship, 53, a coal miner for 30 years, said “You go in there, hope to have good productivity on your shift, and get out safely.” With coal production slowing due to stricter environmental controls, the availability of natural gas and a shift to surface mining, the state’s coal country has been hit hard with job losses and business closures. Picture taken May 22, 2014.

That was my normal job. Now, let’s talk about the hazing aspect of it…

Sure, I took a lot of gruff from the older workers. Most people that I worked with were in their 20’s and 30’s. The real older men were over their 40’s and tended to work at other roles in the company. I was doing the “grunt work” that pretty much didn’t pay well, and that no one wanted to do.

There were “independent” haulers that would drive their dump trucks to the mine and dump the ore into the hopper. These tended to be grizzly old truck drivers, and they all wanted to give me a hard time while I weighed out their load (they were paid by weight). They would love to call me names like “fucking-dumb pollack” and “pecker dick-boy” all the time berating me for “cheating” them out of a few pounds of ore. All nonsense. It was just a bunch of harassment that I would have to endure as they would pull in and I would need to weigh their loads. Other than that it was harmless.

Mining community
I grew up in the hills of Western Pennsylvania. Like nearby West Virginia, the area was amazingly beautiful and wooded, with small communities of homes and mobile homes along winding roads that went in and out of the mountains.

However, nothing was like the shit storm that I dealt with by the older kids, only slightly senior to me. There, they would steal my helmet and throw it into the hopper and I would have to dive in and retrieve it. You know, if I lost the helmet it would be deducted out of my salary.

They would, for instance, take my lunch and hide it in the tipple somewhere. Or, lock me in the outhouse, or out of it and put ex-lax in my coffee cup.

My supervisor would make me crawl into the trash cans and scrub them out with a hose and a brush. He would also try to cheat me out of my salary. In those days we were paid in cash. Sometimes, instead of the $45 that I was due, I would find a $5 and some change inside the envelope.

Other tricks of the trade included flattening my tires so that I would have to drive real slow to the nearest gas station, rolling down my windows (in the car) so that the inside would be soaked in an afternoon rain, and putting grease on the handle of the hand sludge so that it would slip out of my hand when I used it. The worst was putting an empty can of oil on the hood. After a 16 hour day in full sunlight, the ring impression it made could never be buffed out.

Hazing in the Steel Mills

The steel mills were a little bit different than the mines. Once I turned 16 years old, I was able to work full time. This meant that I could get a “starter job” at one of the local steel mills. I was fortunate. Edgewater Steel needed someone to stand under the ladle and hold the ingot molds in place while the hot steel poured into it.

Stell mill 1
Of course, I was given protective suits and equipment to wear. We worked a tough shift, where we were provided a rest area where we could cool down. The temperature near the steel was brutal, and the radiation burned our skin.

The work was necessary. You had to use these long poles to hold the ingot molds in place. If you didn’t do a good job, one of the sides of the ingot mold could come loose and the liquid could flow out, covering you and killing you instantly. We would work two people per ingot. Typically, we might be able to come up with ten ingots of steel from each poured ladle.

The work was hot, tiring and very dangerous. Never the less, it didn’t stop the older folk from “hazing” us newbies.

Steel mill
Here is a scene from the movie “The Deer Hunter”. It was filmed not too far from where I grew up. This is pretty much a snapshot of my youth.

I suppose it was all in good fun, but at the time I thought that it was mean and cruel. Some of the tricks included shitting into the boots that we had to wear on the shop floor, taking carbon dust and spraying it on to our lunch (sandwiches),  turning off the lights (at the breaker) when we were getting set up under the ladle. Dangerous stuff this. Though, on the other hand, no one ever got really hurt. That I know of.

Pouring steel
Here we see molten steel being pours into small ingots. Where I worked, we poured them in huge tower-like molds. They were about two yards tall and perhaps two feet in diameter. We held them in place with large hooked rods. And, we stood there while the liquid molten steel was being poured into them.

Other tricks included stealing our time (punch) card, dropping pallets (off of a fork lift) from three feet up, making a terrible racket and startling everyone. I’ve had my car keys dipped in paint, my motorcycle helmet (outside) filled with urine, and my locker door removed.

This kind of hazing would continue for months until the guys “felt” that you had “earned your place” in the “pecking order” and could be left alone. There were modifiers of course. Say you had an older relative working there, or you were close friends with some of your buddies.  All of this would modify how long the hazing treatment would last. Though, in my case, they always called me the “token pollack” at the company. That never ended.

Hazing in the Grocery Stores

For a while, I worked as a stock boy for a local grocery store. The kind of work was quite different. I wore a short sleeved white shirt, with a bow tie and a large apron that I tied around my waist. As different as it was, the hazing continued unabated. In fact, each time you started to work at a new place, you would have to go through the hazing procedure all over again.

Bagging station
Here is a typical bagging station. We all worked as “bag boys” that would put the groceries in paper bags, and then load them to the cars of the people who shopped at the store.

The hazing depended on the person who did it. The other “bag boys” would play tricks and “jokes” on the new-comer. The department managers would give you a hard time, often assigning the most terrible and awful jobs for you to do. The female cashiers would pester you mercilessly and do little things that would make your life harder than it should have been.

Hazing tricks included hand delivery of groceries to the wrong house. Having you do the hardest clean up jobs in the store; like honey, or olive oil. It would include such things as constant call-ups to bag groceries, and not being able to get your core tasks assigned, which always resulted in a bitch-out session with the floor manager.

Some of the tricks seemingly got out of hand. Like fire extinguisher soak downs as you started a long day of work. Or, scrub downs of the inside of a freezer, while it was still running. We would have to do things like move the two ton safe, scrub the floor under it and then move it back. Other tasks included parking lot cleanup in the pouring rain or snowing blizzard. It was all harmless and innocent hazing for the most part.

bag boy
As a grocery bag boy, we would perform the relatively easy job of bagging groceries, and carrying them out to the car for the customers.

Of course, everything would eventually die down. This was especially true when there were new employees to bear the brunt of all the hazing. Thank goodness.

Hazing on the Drag Lines

A drag line is a huge machine that eats into the earth, and processes it into rubble from which ore is then extracted. They are common all over Pennsylvania. They tear into the hills and extract the precious coal and ores from the land.

Dragline
A dragline excavator is a piece of heavy equipment used in civil engineering and surface mining.  The much larger type which is built on site is commonly used in strip-mining operations to remove overburden above coal and more recently for oil sands mining. The largest heavy draglines are among the largest mobile land machines ever built.

For a while, I worked on a dragline. Being the new kid on the block, I of course, became the “go-fer”. Which means “hey, kid! go fer that…”.

My first “go-fer” task was to get a hook brace located at the top end of the dragline boom. So, yeah you guessed it, I had to climb all the way up to the end of the boom and retrieve the part. Only to find that I got the wrong part, and had to go back up a second time and get it again. Being the “new kid on the block” really did suck.

Dragline bucket.
There are many parts involved in a dragline operation. Each one needed to be cared for and maintained. This is a task that is usually reserved for the new kids working the mining site.

Conclusion

Many times I lament “the good old days”, but not with this. I am happy to say “good riddance”.

Hazing in High School.
Hazing in High School.

I really do not know why humans require any type of “hazing” activities. I am sure that there must be scientist or two who can explain the phenomenon. I, for one, would like to hear why we all seem to utilize hazing as a passage into adulthood. I know that it is used in Zambia, China and Japan. What’s the point?

"In my research I've found that group benefits that could quickly accrue for newcomers –– automatic benefits –– predict people's desire to haze," he said.

"This isn't the only variable that matters –– there's some effect of age and sex, for example –– but the effect of automatic benefits suggests that potential vectors of group exploitation alter people's treatment of newcomers in predictable ways," 

-Cimino

Today, I think that most of this type of hazing is now absent in the work environment today. I haven’t seen it. However, it is possible that it has taken on new form, and has manifested in other ways, like at Google, for instance…

Take Aways

  • Hazing was an important part of American culture up into the 1980’s.
  • Schools hazed the new students.
  • Workers in industry hazed the new employees.
  • Since the 1980’s and into the 1990’s people stopped hazing the new employees at work.
  • Younger workers today have no idea or concept that hazing was a rite of passage that they would need to deal with when they started a new job.

FAQ

Q: Why isn’t hazing permitted in American industry any longer?
A: I really do not know. I think it is partly due to the rise of HR standardization of policy, the merging of government laws, and HR enforcement, and a rapid swinging volatile labor force. I would guess that any hazing today would be grounds for dismissal of an employee.

Q:  Why you think that hazing was an important part of industry?
A: The work environment consists of a tiny microcosm of society. They structure themselves in a tribal manner and creature written and unwritten rules of behavior. New members to that society must prove their value prior to them obtaining membership in the group.

Q: Are there any formal policies against hazing?
A: Yes.

Some Comments

Posted on Free Republic on 10SEP18. The post can be found HERE. Some highlights…

I recall reading about how when Mario Lemieux was a rookie with the Pittsburgh Penguins in 1984, even he did not escape that bit of hazing as when he fell asleep on an airplane in the midst of a road trip, a teammate snuck up and covered his head in shaving cream. And also the well known tale of Bobby Orr in about 1966 being dragged into the dressing room shower, covered in liniment oil, and shaved from head to toe.

- OttawaFreeper

The retired Naval aviation guys I work with tell stories about sending the noobies for a bucket of “prop wash”. lol

- V_TWIN

20+ years ago my daughter was in an award winning marching band that had a time honored "hell night" for new members. That was until one newbie went psycho and has stayed that way. The band director, school, and boosters are likely still paying off the seven figure judgement.

- buckalfa 

There's no hazing at all in the Navy these days. I remember making 3rd and then 2nd Class Petty Officer and getting my crows "tacked" on (getting punched in the arm). My arm was black and blue but I wasn't any worse for the wear. I was proud. Of course, there's always some asshole who takes it too far and someone winds up LLD with a broken arm after his arm was jumped on.

Around 2010 or so, about the same time as DADT was repealed, the Navy cracked down hard on hazing. It had long been officially banned but still tolerated. The Navy sent a message in the form of several publicized career ending NJPs that the days of hazing were over. When I made First Class, there were no punches to my arm. We got the message loud and clear.

-Drew68

Steam blanket. Prop wash. Key to the sea chest. Metric crescent wrench. Fetch a henway. And on and on and on......

- rktman 

There’s hazing, and then there’s hazing. When I stood my first messenger watch as a US Navy Seaman Apprentice, I was sent to a location on the ship to see a particular petty officer and obtain a container of red running light oil. That petty officer sent me to another location and another person, and so on for a number of contacts. Of course, there’s no such thing as running light oil...but the travels seeking it helped familiarize me with the ship’s layout and some of our senior petty officers.

Then there was the “Sea Bat” ploy. A number of sailors were gathered on the fantail around a cardboard box partly covered with a towel, and were peeking inside at it. A couple of others were doing some desultory sweeping nearby. One of my shipmates asked what was in the box and was told it was a Sea Bat. He bent over and lifted the towel to have a look, and one of the broom wielding swabbies swatted him on the rear as all the others yelled “SEA BAT”!

A new junior officer was the next victim; his swat was a bit less aggressive than the other received.

- JimRed 

One of my first summer jobs was at an amusement park. The tradition there was to be sent to hunt for a bucket of steam. Some of them are still looking.

Then there was my first “real” job at a huge factory complex. I was taken to the remotest part of the place and left to find my own way back. Took all afternoon.

- Some Fat Guy in L.A.

Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. First written 10SEP18.
  2. Completed 10SEP18.
  3. SEO Review 10SEP18.
  4. Published 10SEP18.

On Being an Older Gent

Once you get older, you change. Change is a continuous process, indeed.  But age permits one the benefit of reflection. For the person that I am now is not the boy that grew up in Western Pennsylvania. My interests are quite different, and I am quite sure that I would be shocked and surprised at what I have become, and how my life is today.

My life today is nothing like I expected it would be…

Introduction

There are so many elements of this that it is difficult for me to adequately quantify.

I look back at my High School days and view many of the actions and activities that I participated in as very trivial.  Yet at the same time, I see them all as necessary learning avenues to teach me about society and social interaction.  I now see the importance in the creation of special events, and school get-togethers. While my interests were generational in scope, they still manifest today.  They are just in different forms and shapes.

I look at the politics of today, and view them in terms of sentience selection.  I do not view them in the “black and white” terms of my boyhood. This goes double for the American media narrative.

As such, I see that I have aged and matured.

My thoughts are no longer so pristine and “black and white”.  My experiences have forged me into the person that I am today. You cannot take a person who spent their entire life in the black-negro ghettos of Chicago and expect them to walk into a directors meeting of a fortune 500 company.

Nor can you take a person who has lived their life uneducated, as a poor Muslim in the Sudan, and expect them to write the latest code and create a spectacular software program from it.

Your actions and thoughts create your destiny.

As such, I am not going to get up and become an NFL star, a blonde female social activist, or a wild playboy like Hugh Heffner. It just isn’t going to happen. Today I am the sum total of all my thoughts that I had during my entire life. I have created this world that I now live within.

Life is not a lottery that you win through the selection of a random number. The life you live is a consequence of your thoughts and your actions. Which means…

Our Life is up to Us to Configure

My life today is not at all what I thought it would be. For I thought and envisioned the kind of life that I saw on television and read in the Men’s Magazines that I read growing up. Instead, it was something else.

It became what I thought about.

A nice glass of VSOP
Now that I am older, and I don’t have to deal with the corporate lifestyle, my life is slower. It is better. I can take my time and enjoy the finer things in life. I can smoke. I can drink. I can have massages. I can take naps. I can pursue my hobbies. I can eat the foods that I like.

What did I think about? What did I dwell upon?

Well, all through my younger years, and well into university, I dreamed and strove to be a “Rocket-man”. I wanted to be a “Spaceman”; an Astronaut. I named my toys after space and future television shows. I had “Cosmos” who was a stuffed dog. I had a Naval Flight Helmet (old style) that I was given and wore everywhere. I wanted that life…

  • I wanted to be with extraterrestrials.
  • I wanted to be friends with them.
  • I wanted to fly in the rocket-ships and visit their bases.
  • I wanted to enter into airlocks.
  • I wanted to be involved in great and important work that involved top secret equipment.

All of this happened, in one way or the other. Though none of it was how I pictured it to be.

Welcome to the party, pal.
Yeah. Welcome to the party. It’s hard core. That’s for damn sure.

There are readers that believe that they would behave differently than I have.  Of course.  We are all different.  We all have different experiences and thoughts.  I experienced my life because I had been working to it, and what I experienced was in direct proportion with my desire and goals. To this, I must say, to those who think that they would be different… Of course it would be different for you. You don’t have the same kinds of thoughts that I have.

What I experienced is a direct result of my thoughts.

These objectives also created downsides.

My Role was my Life

I joined MAJestic, but it was nothing like I thought it was. No, I did not strap myself into a rocket the size of the Empire States Building. No I did not go exploring the far off heavens. No, I was not rewarded with ticker-tape parades, buxom blonde beauty pageant winners, and given the key to the city. Nope. None of that happened.

Although, indeed, yes. I obtained what I wanted, deep down in my heart. It is just that it did not resemble anything like I thought it would. It was quite different.

  • I did actually meet extraterrestrials.
  • While not exactly “friends”, I was entangled intimately with some of them.
  • Though I never flew in a “Rocket-ship”, I did utilize the same transport technique that they used to visit their bases and facilities.
  • No, I never entered an “airlock”, however I did have many opportunities to egress from a Sally-Port.
  • I was involved in important “Top Secret” work, that absolutely did involve advanced equipment.

Yet, somehow it wasn’t like I actually pictured it. It did not resemble anything that I thought it would be like.

What happened

Instead, my entire life was (somehow) scrambled and put into a different “artifice” (for lack of an appropriate word). From that “artifice” I was expected to live as a normal, average man. But I wasn’t. There was no way I was average. Not in what I had done to achieve my role, but also in what I had become.

I had be “normal”.

I had to live an average life, and while living it, my thoughts and impressions were transcribed to “others” to manipulate the MWI that I inhabited. Of course, it involved the MWI, and the very fabric of our reality.

In the end, all I can say is that had a role. I was a snow leopard who was told to wear fleece and mingle with the rest of the sheep. I was a something that had a role that no one could see. I was apparently quite important, but I and my actions and significance were completely invisible to mankind.

I lived a typical American life.

And…

It sucked. It really did.

I could not be special. I could NOT be special. By entering MAJestic I agreed to take on the role that was required of me. I had to participate in the kind of life that my fellow Americans were experiencing. I had to endure many layoffs and company restructurings, as my experiences HAD to be along the same line of the bulk of (American) humanity that I was representing.

Charlie Brown football.
What a friggin’ life. To volunteer for a role where you would be a kind of Charlie Brown constantly dealing with a horrible Lucy . All for what? To monitor the Mandelbrot migrations of a constantly evolving MWI slide? It sucked.

So yes, I was the sad sack, the Charlie Brown boy who had to endure Lucy pulling away the football, over and over again. I was the boy who picked up the golf balls at a driving range, only that I had a big bulls-eye painted on my chest. I HAD to experience the changes in American society, so that the MWI could experience the corrective slides.

That’s bad enough. In fact, it really sucked. But, that’s not all there is to it.

I Was Retired from MAJestic

I also had to endure the retirement sequence, and all the horrible aspects of it. Yeah, after thirty years of being the designated MAJestic liaison for a group of interested “signifigants”, I was retired.

Retired. I didn’t even get a friggin’ “thank you”.

But you know, it was not MAJestic that processed me. They only retired me. What they did, of course was have someone else do the “heavy lifting”. They went and utilized the state governments to take care of “my matter”. They set the State Government to process me and put me into a monitoring program.

The Constitution’s guarantee of a fair trial is disappearing.

“criminal defendants are being coerced to plead guilty,” cautions the nonpartisan National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. 

“There is no more heart wrenching task than explaining” to an innocent person that “they must seriously consider pleading guilty or risk the utter devastation of the remainder of their life.”

-New York Post

You know, the state did not know my background. The state did not care.  They just treated me like all the others in the state monitoring programs. I got no special treatment. Reports were drafted. Paperwork was filled out. Things were “rubber stamped”. I went through the entire procedure. It all looked so fair and proper…

MAJestic only cared that I be retired and put into a monitoring program “just in case”. I mean after all, “why take the chance”? Who knows what the (potentially dangerous) extraterrestrials might have “up their sleeve”?

It really sucked.

The prisoner.
In the 1960’s era televisions show titled “The Prisoner”, a secret agent is retired by placing him on an isolated island. America does not have any islands that they retire their MAJestic agents to. Instead they put them into monitoring programs. There are only two monitoring programs in the United States. Both are run by the states. One [1] is the parole system. The other is [2] the Sex Offender program. The parole system has a finite duration, and cannot be extended. The Sex Offender program is far more comprehensive and can be extended indefinitely.
So I was retired from the organization. It hurt.

I am not going to pretty it all up. I was arrested, sentenced, promised a plea bargain, and then given a completely different sentence that we had agreed to. I was told by my attorney it was because “it was political“, whatever the heck that is supposed to mean.

So, I was retired by MAJestic.

Though as far as the rest of the country knew,  MAJestic does not exist. There is no such things a extraterrestrials, and the American government does not have secrets, secret programs, or agents who participate in the programs. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I was justly sentenced. I got my due. I was a terribly evil and bad man. I was a horrible person, one that needed to be isolated, secluded, avoided and made a pariah of.

I was a man who was “given his due”…

Hard Labor in Arkansas
This was exactly what it was like for me. I did “Hard Time” in Arkansas. Photo is of ADC Cummins facility. Yup. We all did “Hard Time” in the hot and sweaty Arkansas sun. This was what was necessary to put me in a monitoring program that would track my actions, where I lived and what I would do. This is how MAJestic agents are retired. It is not pretty.

Now, there was a sort of freedom in being retired.

With the MAjestic set of probes disengaged, there was a kind of calmness and serenity that I hadn’t felt since I joined  the program. Also, you adapt. It wasn’t a fun life, but then again, I felt like I was retired.

Of course only the MAJestic probes were retired. Not my extraterrestrial probes. They never shut off. They are always on. I am always connected to the MWI. Thus my situation that I find myself in today.

  • Retired from MAJestic.
  • Still part of the MWI, forever entangled with my “benefactors“.

Yet, in the end, it all worked out. What was promised to me materialized.

Yet, in the end, it all fell into place

Now, today as an older man, I see how everything fit into place.  I no longer have to kiss up to others to achieve my goals.  (This not only includes bosses at companies, but attractive women as well.)

This is wholly satisfactory to me.

This is whether or not I am trying to have a relationship or sex with another girl and need to alter my behaviors to attract her, or whether I need to fit some corporate model and image to obtain work elsewhere. Maybe it is from what I have learned through experience, or maybe it is because some of the baggage associated with MAJestic has been turned off. What ever…

I am my own man.  I now do things on my own terms.

While it might not be popular to be a white male in America during the Obama Presidency, I no longer care. I am who I am, and I am not going to apologize for it. If you don’t like me, if you don’t like what I have done, if you don’t like what I wrote or how I wrote it, or if you are uncomfortable with my story… well that is fine.

I do not care.

I am a Man and I do not apologize for it

Gunny Highway.
Gunny Highway is an ideal that has elements that all men should strive towards. Sometimes the fiction that we see can lead us into behavior ideals that we can adopt as our own.

Real men know exactly what I am writing about.  It doesn’t matter if the reader is a male from Los Angles, Miami, or Memphis. All real men know exactly what I mean within the pages of this manuscript. A man is a man who is a Man.

I gave up political correctness when I became a man.

Prissy pussies apologize and carefully speak so as not to offend anyone. Real men say what they mean. They stand by their words, and are NOT afraid to speak their minds. Otherwise they aren’t men at all.

Even though biologically they might have a penis, and wear male clothes, they are actually a woman or boy pretending to impersonate a man.  Being a man is something that goes beyond dress.  Being a man is an attitude.

Never forget that.

Simple man
I am a simple man. I like pretty dark-haired women and breakfast food.

Men and women are both attracted to “manly” men. In fact, to the surprise of the American media, soft-feminine progressive liberal women are incredibly attracted to strong conservative men.  Don’t believe me, go HERE, HERE and HERE.

“I don't know why I am attracted to Conservative/ politically incorrect men. I am a total social justice warrior and proud of that, buy I am attracted to the opposite of that. Is anyone else attracted to their political opposite? I have a fantasy of getting dominated by an extremely anti sjw white man. I guess I want to have sex with people I hate/ people who hate me.

…

I am too. I think it takes a lot of confidence to hold a political stance that is so unpopular in our current political environment. It has a "bad boy" element to it. That's totally something that appeals to me, for better or for worse.”

-reddit

It has nothing to do with politics, appearance, social-economic influences, money, power or position. It is all about attitude.

via GIPHY

Here is the mechanism.  Pay attention, please.

Attitude is uniquely tied to ego.  That should be obvious. With that well understood, note how thoughts and ego are interrelated. Ego is tied to thoughts, and thoughts create our reality.

A woman (or a man for that matter) who “hitches up” to a strong willful man with a strong attitude will see REALITY BEND and WORLD-LINES converge to meet the shared needs of their partnership.

That is why.

I know all of this, and because I see this and understand it, I control the world around me.  I am in control.  I do not need to alter my behavior to please or appease anyone.

A real man
A real man does manly things and does not apologize for it. He is strong. He does what needs to be done without complaining. We goes after his dream without stopping. He tries, and works and then redoubles his efforts. He provides for his family.

Being a man does not mean to take on the 2016 stereotypical narrative promulgated by the American media.  For that is a false narrative that has no basis in reality except to divide, ridicule and impugn. Rather, a man must maintain all his strengths with wisdom and concern for those around him.

Men are just as capable as women to nurture, support, and find friendships with others.

Men have emotions, feelings, strengths and weaknesses.  Yet, if you follow the current American narrative, all men are a “joke” and totally unnecessary to raise children.  In fact, according to many in America today, there needs to be steps taken to replace male dominance in the workplace.

This is often accomplished with “diversity experts”, who are more often than not, social justice minority lesbian women.  Lord help the United States.  It’s in for a tremendous upheaval.

Men and compassion.
Men are capable of compassion and understanding. We are capable of many things. However, do not cross us. A real man is not someone that you want to mess around with. We will give you our best, but if you are deserving, we will give you our worst.

A real man, of course, possesses an attitude, and is not afraid to show their strength when necessary.  This can be in many forms, and is not limited to physical strength. Men have the ability to suppress, and control their emotions. Men can focus on one single thing to the exclusion of everything else. They can focus.

Women simply cannot. It is biological.

In short, let it be understood that men have abilities that are germane to their gender. Just like women also have abilities germane to their gender. Men can focus on things, plow through without the burden of emotion, and push against all odds. Women can nurture, have children, and raise a family. Both men and women have a role in our society.

Neither gender is better than the other.  We are just different.  That difference is wonderful.

Have I made myself clear?

via GIPHY

Conclusions

When I came to China and started to live a more retiring life, I came to the understanding of how different my life was from what I expected. It occurred to me that my current life is the sum total of all the thoughts that I have ever had in the past.

This included such things as joining MAJestic, to what I ended up doing. It included such things as where I live and my lifestyle. It included everything about my life as I currently experience it.

As such, I have a message for the younger men out there…

Be good. Think good thoughts and do good deeds. Live your life on your terms. If you keep mindful and are focused they life that you desire in the deepest recesses of your heart will manifest for you. Just be in control of yourself. Be a man.

via GIPHY

Take Aways

  • The life that have in your reality is created by YOU.
  • The only way out of a bad situation that you are in, is to change your thoughts immediately. Then have the discipline and the focus to work your way out.
  • My life is the accumulated thoughts of my entire life.
  • If you are good, you will end up with a good life.
  • It seems like things are beyond our control, but that is only an illusion.

Inspiration

Find inspiration in everything that you do. What inspires you might not inspire someone else. Inspiration is a very personal thing.

That being said, for me, I find that Silenus and Dionysus represents my love of life. For those of you who don’t know, in Greek mythology, Silenus (Greek: Seilenos) was a companion and tutor of the wine god Dionysus. You know, being the tutor for Dionysus is pretty cool. Eh?

He appeared together with satyrs and other creatures in the wine god’s entourage, resembling a satyr, although, he was considerably older. The character Silenus ended up as a very special genre of figure creatures known as sileni.

It kind of explains why I live the life as I do…

Cat
Yes. Well there is …..Dionysus cat!

FAQ

Q: Do extraterrestrials exist?
A: Yes they most certainly do. It’s a pretty silly question, as we now know that we share this planet with many sentient animals, of which a number of them have complex brains and societies that we are just now beginning to understand. In the enormity of the universe it is absolutely crazy to hold on to the 1960’s era belief that we are the sole intelligence in the universe.

While there are many who consider humans to be the top of societal evolution, we shouldn’t neglect the fact that we share this world with dolphins. We have larger brains than us. They have a language that they speak. They are also quite intelligent. While many consider humans to go back 10,000 years, dolphins go back 48 millions of years.

Don’t you think that it is pretty arrogant of us to ignore the intelligence of dolphins that we share this planet with?

Q: How do you reconcile the bad times that you experienced?
A: I view them as lessons and experiences. I hope to learn from them, though it is sometimes a battle to keep positive and turn off the emotional connection to them. That being stated, it is also important to control the flow of news into your head. Most news, especially American news is designed to manipulate you. Do not let it. Manipulation takes the control of your life away from you.

Q: In what ways are the life you have now different from what you expected?
A: It is different in every conceivable way. From where I live, to what I eat. To who I know and how I am treated, to what I do for fun. To what my hobbies are to what I think is important.

via GIPHY

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

These are posts and articles that revolve around how I was recruited for MAJestic and my training. Also discussed is the nature of secret programs. I really do not know why the organization was kept so secret. It really wasn’t because of any kind of military concern, and the technologies were way too involved for any kind of information transfer. The only conclusion that I can come to is that we were obligated to maintain secrecy at the behalf of our extraterrestrial benefactors.

Probe Calibration - 1

Probe Calibration - 2

How to tell...

How to tell -2

Top Secrets

Sales Pitch

Feducial Training

Implantation

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

These particular posts are concerned about the universe that we are all part of. Being entangled as I was, and involved in the crazy things that I was, I was given some insight. This insight wasn’t anything super special. Rather it offered me perception along with advantage. Here, I try to impart some of that knowledge through discussion.

Enjoy.

Alpha Centauri

Our Galaxy the Milky Way

Sirius solar system

Alpha Centauri

The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.

The Hammer inside the rock.

The Hollow Moon

The Mystery of the Lapulapu Ridge.

The Mystery of the Baltic UFO.

Mystery of the bronze bell.

Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.

Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?

The Oxia Palus Facility

Brown Dwarfs

Apollo Space Exploration

CARET

The Nature of the Universe

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

These posts are related to “reality slides”. Other more common terms are “world-line travel”, or the MWI. What people fail to grasp is that when a person has the ability to slide into a different reality (pass into a different world-line), they are able to “touch” Heaven to some extent. Here are posts that  cover this topic.

Cat Heaven

MWI

Things I miss

An Observed World-Line switch.

Vehicular world-line travel

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Revised and released 30SEP18.

Learning about China by Looking at Pretty Girls (5)

This is the fifth of a series of post on Chinese cute girls and Chinese culture.

You know, China is a very, very big nation. Many times I am asked what it is like. Honestly, there is so much to say, that I end up going on some tangent or the other. However, one thing that I noticed when talking to other men, is that what they really want to know is what Chinese girls are like…

Wow! That is in itself a huge subject. 

Here I try to compose  a series of micro-videos of Chinese girls taking little vignettes of themselves being cute, dancing, eating, and doing girl things. It is in no way comprehensive, but it should give you a general idea of what Chinese girls are like. It will also help you to get a better idea of what China is like as well.

We need to do this. No one else is.

Here is a quote from JobTubeDaily;

"Popular U.S. media perpetuates constant negative narratives about China: ghost cities, real estate bubbles, pollution, corruption. While many of these problems are real, the predominately negative coverage drowns out the positive elements of life in China and its abundant economic opportunities. In doing so, the media dissuades America’s rising students, as well as business and political leaders, from learning more about the country."

Here is a quote from LinkedIN;

"And the western media aren't particularly helpful in explaining the real China of 2018.  They're serving so much bias and prejudice about China, it is nearly impossible for the general public to get in touch with the real China."

Here we look at ten micro-videos…with another few more to illustrate some points…

Shanghai

For starters, we are talking about China. Real, honest-to-goodness, China. We are talking about the “real deal” and not the cardboard “cut out” caricature that is defined by the American media. Here, we will not discuss eating dogs, smog filled cities, and a population of millions that just can’t wait to come to America to live.

That is all fabricated nonsense.

Instead we are going to talk about what China is RIGHT NOW, today. In so doing we are going to have to shatter some terrible misconceptions that many people, especially Americans, have about the place. First of all, it is not a third-world shit hole. It is modern, state of the art, and growing larger every day.

The city of Shanghai…

Chinese cities tend to be NEW. They tend to be WELL TAKEN CARED OF. They also tend to be on the little ultra-modern high-tech side. They all have modern infrastructure, state of the art high-speed internet (that blows American speeds away), and a growing, well-educated, population.

When you move away from the cities, the quality of the buildings, and the overall appearance tends to decrease. Towns will have paved, but dirty, roads. Houses will have internet, plumbing and electricity, but no elevators. People will drive around in older cars, maybe ten year old vehicles.

It’s a lot like America, don’t you think?

Highways

When you leave the city, you will tend to take a high-speed train or airplane. China has the fastest high speed trains in the world, and also has the bulk of them. They tend to be modern, spacious, new and silent. They are a joy to ride.

There are other methods of travel, of course. You might want to take a train, a bus, or your own car and drive. China has a modern and well taken cared for system of highways. All the highways are well maintained. It is a point of pride in China to have the roads pristine, and new. Maybe that is why they tend to plant new trees and gardens all around them.

Some of the roads are spectacular. Consider this in Southern China…

I urge the reader to look for bits of discarded McDonalds and other fast food debris at the side of the road. You won’t find any.

In China, poor people do not get free welfare. Instead, they are given a job. One of which is to plant trees, flowers and pick up trash.

Hotel

Of course, if you are going to drive, you will want to stay in a hotel on the way. Hotels are everywhere in China. They range from one-star nightmares to five-star complexes. In general, the quality of hotels has greatly increased over the years. Today, many hotels are at least a three-star rating. Westerners will not have any trouble sleeping in a three-star hotel.

As always, the hotels are nice and well-taken cared for. In China, it is cultural expedient to have everything look new, clean and pristine. Part of it is pride, but part of it is marketing. No Chinese person wants to stay in a dingy hotel if they can avoid it.

Here’s a pretty lass in a hotel going to her room…

You will notice that the decorations favor white and gold. These are very auspicious colors that the Chinese find especially alluring. It is a sign of prosperity.

Exercise

She looks good doesn’t she? yeah. I most certainly think so. I would not mind at all going out and having a nice dinner, and some wine, with her. Maybe we could walk outside afterwards and enjoy the night air and chat about the glowing stars at night…

Anyways, she takes care of herself. that is for certain. Many Chinese do. There are free exercise venues all over China. Not to mention that many companies require the employees to exercise and dance at the start of each work day. Those who want more exercise can certainly attend a gym. They are everywhere and are great to work out. However, I find that they are not air conditioned. The Chinese do not believe in air conditioning and exercise. The believe the idea is to sweat out the bad qi so that the body can replenish itself.

Here is a gal who has most certainly exercised well. Her body shows it and she is going to the lockers for a shower and a change in clothes. If you want to meet some exceptional Chinese women, maybe you can join a gym.

Notice that the gym equipment is all new, the interior is well decorated, and the floor is a nice rubberized mat. This is very typical and can be seen at any of the gyms that I have been members of.

Speaking of exercise…

One of the tenets of Chinese exercise, maybe unofficial as it is an observation of mine, is that the Chinese like to exercise to music. I used to do so myself, you know. I used to lift weights in my your years, when I was in my twenty’s. I would always listen to music. You concentrate on the music, and it enables you to live and endure.

The Chinese like to incorporate music with exercise. So, for instance, instead of all the school children doing boring sit-ups, push ups and jumping jacks in the morning, they have them dance to prescribed dance routines. Here is a elementary school going through a morning exercise around 7am…

Isn’t it great?

Now, of course, the Chinese parents won’t ever say that this is good enough. The idea is to have your children be better than everyone else. NOT be equal. So the child will be expected to study harder, learn more and have a stronger and better life. Parents, might for instance, have them attend further extracurricular activities outside of the school. Like a dance school for exercise and dance lessons for instance…

I’ll bet those are happy and HEALTHY kids.

Life is what you make it. You take advantage of the opportunities as they are presented to you and you do the best with what you are given. There is no excuse for my American friends to allow their children to lay on a sofa all day, watching Netflix and playing video games. Life is meant to be lived, not plugged into a virtual reality.

Hey Greedy Don’t Fret, What you see is what you get…

Which brings me up to the various line dances and dancing grandma phenomenon that is all over China. The Chinese love to dance. They love to sing. They love to drink. They love to go on dates and have fun together. In many ways, they are just like Americans.

Here we have a line dance of a pretty famous Chinese song. I can’t transcribe the Chinese as it will be meaningless. You can listen to the song, read the lyrics and learn about the singer HERE. You can watch the Music Video HERE.

They are in a public area. You can see a subway station in the background. Notice that a crowd of people are standing around and watching. Welcome to China. This is exactly how it is done, and exactly what happens.

Note that this is in a city center. You can see the various stores and restaurants and mall access points. You can see a McDonald’s.  Hummm…

The girl in the blue pants looks like one of the backup dancers and singers from BoA. I wonder if it is her? You can compare HERE. She is the backup girl on the right wearing a black tank-top. Yeah, I know I know, BoA is Japanese. Well, surprise… people travel back and forth between japan and China like people travel back and forth between Dallas and Fort Worth. Not a big deal.

So, yeah… all this nonsense about island dispute between Taiwan, China and Japan is just a lot of hot rhetoric used by the American media to drum up support for a war. It’s just a lot of hot air. It is nonsense.

Dancing outside on the Street

All this dancing gets me thinking. You know, many Chinese like to dance and post a micro-video of them dancing on the internet.  That is where I get most of these micro-videos to begin with. Here, we have another dance video of a cute girl in a public area.

She is dancing in a very typical public square. China has thousands of these places. You can see typical Chinese stores and restaurants in the background. Notice that many have English signs as well as signs and menus in Chinese. Just about all Chinese people under the age of twenty can speak English to some degree. After all, you cannot attend university unless you can pass an English proficiency test.

I wonder if America will ever do that? You know, make sure that American students be able to pass a Chinese proficiency test in order to attend UCLA, MIT or Drexel University…

Oh, such a great “knee slapper”! As if…

OK. Here is the video of the girl dancing. She is dancing to one of the most popular dance-songs of the year. I have another post about this craze HERE. And, if you want, you can watch the original Music Video HERE.

Notice that in the background is a father taking his daughter out for a walk. This is just like fathers used to do back in the 1960’s. Also notice the girl taking her dog out for a evening walk. What? She’s not eating it! My word. Someone better had best tell the New York Times or CNN about this strange development!

Rural Kitchen

You know, many people in China live outside of the cities. They own homes and when they are not working they come back to their homes. Often the homes are not as nice as the apartments in the city. They tend to be basic. They have walls, windows, and doors, electricity and running water. However, they tend not to have nice wallpaper, fancy interior lighting or any interior decoration.

Update.
I was later informed that this was not in a rural kitchen, but rather in a test lab in a factory. That "dorm sized" refrigerator is really a heat-soak oven. Sorry.

They remind me of summer cottages that the parent’s of my friends would work on during the weekends. They would live in Pittsburgh, and then on the weekends come to the country and work on their “summer home”. Often it would have a roof and walls, but would still need all kinds of “finishing touches” to make it into a home.

Here we have a pretty country lass dancing in a rural kitchen. She is attractive and just having a good time of it all. You go girl.

The kitchen does not have custom countertops, fine faucets and center “island”. It consists mostly of some shelving with wide open spaces to clean and cook food. The girl is obviously not starving. I am sure that she eats well, but the kitchen is Spartan. She has a big waste garbage can, and a small “dorm sized” refrigerator.

She is young. She is chewing with her mouth open. Yuck!

Girl, no matter what you wear, and no matter how good your makeup is, if you cannot act like a lady, you will never be treated as one. Life is all about confidence, attitude and manners.

Doors and Keys

In China, both the doors and the keys are different than what you get in the Untied States.  I know, I have been somewhat involved with the export of doors to America. The American market wants the cheapest quality doors for the most part. The more expensive doors, are available, of course, but they tend to be made in the USA. Large volume exports of cheap interior doors is the norm to America.

Hey, don’t blame the Chinese. They make great quality doors. Many of which go to Europe and Dubai. It’s just that the American market is focused on the cheapest products to sell to Americans in bulk at huge profits.

American door composition
Door panel types. Here is a general reference of some door panel types that are available. Note that most of them have a fake core of some kind of expandable polystyrene inside. In China the doors are metal. You need a bulldozer to break one in.

It doesn’t have to be that way. However, that is just the way it is. In China, the houses and apartments wouldn’t come near those doors. Image that; flimsy hollow core doors with cheap low-quality laminate. Never happen in China.

The keys are also different as well. The keys in China are made in different ways and techniques. That is because, not so long ago, crime was rampant in China. You need good and strong locks that were difficult to break into. America is different. Most American keys are based on simple flat key blanks that can easily be duplicated.

This girl is dancing in her living room in front of a bedroom door.

The door is heavy gauge steel with very sturdy and hefty hinges. The girl is cute and dancing wearing a cute Chinese outfit that is very popular this year. She is wearing white stockings and small white shoes. She is typical with long dark hair and light, pale skin.

I will say that the style of door that she has is exactly the same style that is in my house right now.

Speaking of doors, here is yet another video of a girl dancing in front of a door…

Another Interior Door

In this example, we have a different girl in a different city.  She is dancing in what appears to be her living room. The door looks like a entrance way door. As such, it will have a real wood facing that is laminated on top of a heavy gauge steel foundation. The door will be stout and difficult (if not impossible) to crash through. Which is one of the reasons that criminals in China would rather break through the cement walls to get into a house than to go through the front door.

This is nice looking girl. She is thin and slender with nice legs, a happy smile and great eyes. She has an attractive face with a nice pointy chin.

Note that she is standing on carpet. I am sure that it is not wall-to-wall carpet. That is a rarity in China. The wall is white which is normal here. All in all, this is a pretty typical apartment. The problem is that in this video you cannot see the entire apartment.

With that being said, let’s look at an entire apartment…

A Chinese Apartment

In this video we have a Chinese girl dancing in her apartment. She is dancing from one end to the other and goes from the kitchen / dining area into the living room area. It gives a nice view of what apartments are like in China.

You can see that this is a typical apartment with white walls, a white marble tiled floor (no linoleum here, the Chinese NEVER use it), and heavy gauge metal doors. You can see her furnishings are sparse, but in no way is there any clutter. China is not a consumer nation like the Untied States is.

Conclusion

Everyone likes to look at pretty girls. Even other pretty girls. I, as a man, think that pretty girls liven up our lives and make it more interesting and fun. I would not mind taking any one of these girls out and having a nice meal or playing around in a park or some other place. Having good companionship, great conversation, and enjoying a wonderful meal would be awesome with any of these women.

For instance, I will be willing to bet that this girl would just be wonderful to spend some time with.  I would buy her a coffee and a cheesecake any day.

Today it is difficult to see what other places are like, if you are an American. Our news is heavily propagandized.

  • Those on the liberal side have the impression that China eats dogs, is full of poor waifs that sell their bodies for sex, and is full of dirty smog filled air.
  • Those on the conservative side, have the impression that China is a great war-mongered beast who wants to take over the Pacific, that they are ruthless businessmen, and want to keep their citizens imprisoned in a communist gulag.

Neither impression is correct. They are both terrible distortions.

China is a huge nation, bigger geographically than the United States, and with an enormous population far larger than America’s. In fact, there are more people in China that speak English than there are Americans in the entire world.

They live life. They work. They study hard. They try to do their best. They have fun. They raise families. They are, in many ways, like “old fashioned” Americans around 1950. While America has moved toward a progressive socialist paradise ruled by an oligarchy, China has moved in a different direction. It has moved toward free-market policies originating out of a central government. China is not at all what we think it is.

This post is my little way to help introduce China to the readership.

Take Aways

  • Chinese women are attractive.
  • Many of the buildings in China are new, and have a modern supporting infrastructure.
  • Chinese people like to dance, sing, and have fun with their friends.
  • Chinese women DO NOT look like pre-adolescent children. (Here’s a nod to the idiots in Arkansas who were absolutely convinced that Chinese women look like little pre-adolescent girls.)

Beverly Hillbillies
Here is a scene from the 1960’s era situation comedy called the “Beverly Hillbillies”. I really loved that show. Then, later on, when I went to Arkansas to be retired from MAJestic, I met actual hillbillies. It was painful. Imagine the worst aspects of the movie Idioticracity combined with an evil FBI director trying to “get Trump”. Ugh. Anyways, their understanding of life outside of Little Rock was pathetic. They thought that Memphis, Tennessee was another nation. They were that pathetic.

FAQ

Q: Why do you only have beautiful Chinese girls? What about being more diverse and inclusive? Why do you objectify girls?
A: Well, for one, this article is about attractive Chinese girls. It wouldn’t do to have non-Chinese girls in it. Nor would it be appropriate to have men, homosexuals, fat and ugly girls, children or LGBT creatures in the article.

If you want to purge beauty out of your life, no problem. Go ahead and do it. Just like American beauty pageants are no longer about beauty. Just like American airlines have purged themselves of age and beauty standards. Just like race-cars have purged themselves of attractive women. But you won’t see that in China.

Now here, I like to surround myself with beauty. I like to surround myself with things that I like and I love. That includes dogs, cats, pizza, bacon, tomatoes, friends and of course my loved ones.

Q: Why do you use micro-videos in this post?
A: I think it does a nice job of giving a snapshot of what China is like. Many of the videos have Chinese songs. They all feature beautiful Chinese girls in China doing things that beautiful Chinese girls like to do. Of course, if you would rather go to you-tube, go ahead. You won’t find very many Chinese girls there. You-tube is banned in China because it, like Facebook, Google, and Tumblr, all collect user information and pipe that information directly to the NSA for American government’s use.

Q: Why do you think these girls are beautiful?
A: Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. What constitutes for beauty in China is different from what is beautiful elsewhere. I chose these videos because I happen to think the girls are cute, beautiful or attractive. Of course, if you disagree with me, you can leave.

Now, you shouldn’t be too upset there are some rocking girls in the United States. You should see them in sweatpants. My Lord!

Links about China

Business KTV

Dance Craze

End of the Day Potato

Dog Shit

Dancing Grandmothers

When the SJW movement took control of China

Family Meal

Freedom & Liberty in China

Ben Ming Nian

Beware the Expat

Fake Wine

Fat China

Chinese apartment houses

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 29AUG18.
  2. Completed 29AUG18.
  3. SEO review 29AUG18.
  4. Published 29AUG18.

How China deals with Obesity

One thing that I really like about the world is that everyone is different. I really like that. I like that ice cream comes in different flavors. I like that there are all kinds of trucks and cars to select from. I like that there are all kinds of girls, some small and tiny, and some big and voluptuous. I really like that.

This post is a tale of two different ways of solving a problem. The problem is obesity. With high-fat foods commonly available everywhere, there is a strong propensity to everyone to get fat and put on weight. What is a nation going to do about this? Allow their citizens to get fat, and die early?

In America, you make laws to control behavior. So the American solution to obesity is to ban things. Ban super-sized drinks. Ban high-calorie meals in schools. Ban pork in prisons. America is all about control. You tell the people what to do. You make laws to enforce your wishes, and you use the police to assure compliance.

In China, to provide solutions. If everyone is eating high-calorie foods, then you provide them outlets to burn those calories off. What China did, was provide public dance forums. Now, these forums have already existed in one form or the other for years now. What Beijing did was standardize them.

Let’s talk about this…

Introduction

Over  the last few decades, groups of grandmothers would gather in the open plazas and open areas and dance. They would pull out a “boom-box” and play music that they would dance to. This was all impromptu, and often you would have competing groups of dancers in the same square with a cacophonous sound that rattles doors, windows and teeth.

For years, these grandmothers would come out and dance. They would do it in the morning and in the evening. In fact, I even have a POST on how rude they often were. For some of them would push out rock-concert speakers and aim it at my house. Ugh!

“The line dancing craze has swept the nation over the past decade, with informal groups of primarily female retirees gathering at dusk and dawn to dance on any spare piece of pavement. Chinese media has estimated that up to 100 million people take part in the activities — known as “square dances,” for the public squares and plazas where many gatherings take place.

The loosely associated groups often have a leader who hauls out a boombox blaring pop hits and folk classics. The women work through a handful of dance routines, with grizzled veterans usually taking up positions at the front and beginners tentatively following along in the back rows.”

- Matt Sheehan

In 2016, Beijing put their collective foot down and established community guidelines that defined noise levels, music to play, and dances to do.

This was welcomed by the dancing grandmothers as a good thing. After a few months of fits and starts, the program was implemented throughout China.

Only…

Now it was a little different.

Organization

Now, you have a set selection of music to dance to. No longer is the music only fifty year old pop songs. The music is contemporary and upbeat. No longer do random grannies define the dance steps, but they follow defined dance routines set by trained physical therapists and trained professional dancers, designed for most people to exercise to.

Now you have paid organizers who are trained and authorized to lead the dances. Now, you have music that you can dance to, with defined dance steps. Now you have start and end times, and music noise levels that must be adhered to.

But…

But… something happened.

Everyone Started to Dance

What began as a venue for grannies to exercise, soon became a venue where everyone can participate. There are contemporaneous pop songs that are played along traditional favorites. New songs are always added to the mix, and unpopular songs are dropped. The dances are all led by trained instructors (for the most part) and everyone can now participate…

Dance Instructor getting the crew dancing…

Something else started to happen as well. As soon as the instructors started to dance, they would bring their classes (for most of them owned dance schools) and their entire class would dance in public as well…

This action attracted many other things. Suddenly you now have high-school and college aged girls wanting to dance in the venues. After all, these dance venues are in the centers of all the civics areas. Some girls would be walking by the mall, and there is this big group of dancers, and they would put their gear down, and join them. It was all impromptu.

And, it’s not just pretty girls.

You have people of all ages and walks of life… And, yes also people who need to lose a few pounds or two. Now they find it easier to dance along with everyone else, and lose some pounds in the process. It’s a win-win. Beijing figured that if you provide people with options, fun options, they would take advantage of them. In this case, they were right.

Here’s a guy burning off some weight.

What this has done was merged pop culture and pop music with the Chinese dancing forum.  It has created it’s own popular venue on it’s own merits. As a result, you can often see and meet attractive Chinese girls dancing and singing along in the public squares together.

Here’s a group of girls. I particularly like these girls. I watch them hypnotically mesmerized by their moves and jiggling bodies.

The dance steps are often simple, but the dancer can add their own flourishes to them. We have dancers that dance as couples and others that prefer the line-dance routines. Here is a group that does a nice spin-and-stomp move…

The dances are organized twice daily. In the morning it is generally from 7am to around 9am. In the evening, it usually starts around 6pm and often lasts to 10pm. If you ever go to a mall, or shopping center you will see these people dancing up a storm. It’s all free.

Typically, you find a space in the back and try your best to follow. Eventually, over time you will get it, and there will be many who will offer to help teach you the steps. This is a great way for a shy boy to meet some attractive girls. Let me tell you what…

In China, many stores and restaurants have their staff line up for a daily briefing, and company dance. It seems strange, but it is true. However, what if your company was right next to one of these plazas? After all, they are always at major shopping and city centers. What about having your staff do a morning dance before work? Wouldn’t that be nice?

And, that is exactly what happened…

They probably all work in front of the beef noodle restaurant that they are dancing in front of. Of course, the company would provide them with an exercise uniform, though the shoes would be their responsibility.

By providing this venue, the Chinese have taken advantage of it and are enjoying every moment of it. The result is that there are no laws to enforce. No behaviors that need to be policed. The people are having fun, and they are exercising and losing weight int he process. It seems to work quite well. Don’t you think?

Here are some girls dancing as a couple. It’s all a sort of free-style within a dance routine.

Here’s some “free style” improvisation. The girls shake their tushes, and the boys do their thrusts. Check it out. In China you can be yourself.

Watch the boy first, you will see him do a thrust, then move your eyes to the girls next to him. They will do a shake of their cute behinds. Ah, you’ve got to love it.

Obviously there are numerous songs that are played with numerous dance routines. I played this same singular song to make a point; all the videos are taken all over China. They were taken on different days, with different people, at different times. Some were at night. Some were in the morning.

The music is the same.

American media reports… or NOT

What amazes me is just how friggin’ out of touch the American media is about all of this. They haven’t a clue about any of this. You would figure that if their job was to report on the news, that something like this would be reported on. Nope.

Instead they are “reporting” on other things. They are not reporting on events. They are providing their opinions of things. They package the opinions of others, and what people think, on what they heard, from others who lie all for a concocted narrative who’s objective is to keep Americans living in fear. Ugh.

With that being said, here is a final micro-video of some dancers. Here they are dancing in a kind of moving forward and sideways motion that looks like a lot of fun. It really does look like fun.

I used to do some country & western line dancing (when I lived in Mississippi) that I had a ball with. This is the same kind of thing.

If you look closely, you can see the young man in the back who is trying to learn from the girls by copying their moves. Good going, son. You will eventually get it. Just concentrate on the foot work like you are doing. It’s all just a matter of time.

Conclusion

The world has an obesity problem. With the advent of fast food, the world has been getting fatter, heavier and unhealthy. This is most prevalent in West with American and Europeans leading the pack. In fact, it is such a problem, that America has written many laws to control the behavior of Americans…

  • Laws on what you can eat.
  • Laws on the sizes of food portions.
  • Taxes on food to discourage eating.
  • Limitations on the types of food that you can eat.
  • Restrictions on portion sizes in schools.

In order to enforce these laws, more laws were written, and additional police were hired to enforce these laws.

Meanwhile, in China, they took a different approach. While in American, laws are written to enforce behavior, in China laws are designed to prevent victims. They couldn’t write a law forcing all Chinese to act in certain ways. Their government is not set up like that. All that they could do is provide healthy alternatives to an existing Chinese lifestyle.

So what they did is make it possible for everyone to exercise. They tied pop-music and pop-dance to public square. Now, everyone can dance. You don’t have to. It’s not a law, but it is available to you if you want to take advantage of it.

I think that this is a superior solution to enforcing behavior from a central all-knowing, all-powerful American government.

Take Aways

  • Obesity is a world-wide problem.
  • Different nations have different approaches.
  • In America, behavior is enforced through laws.
  • In China, solutions are provided to the citizenry.
  • China has provided an avenue for easy access to fun exercise.
  • America writes laws and enforces compliance with armed police.

FAQ

Q: Low long has this dancing venue been established?
A: The grandmothers have been dancing for decades. In the last five years they have gotten unruly and out of hand. In an effort to regain control, the dance venue was standardized and now provides opportunities for people of all ages to dance. The dances are established with health in mind. The new format was implemented sometime in 2016.

Q: Why doesn’t America provide access to dance, instead of making laws?
A: Power. Those elected and in the American government do not want to lose control of any of their power. They want to dictate behavior. They do not want solutions. They want power.

Q: What if you don’t want to dance?
A: Then you don’t dance. It is not the duty of the Chinese government to force you to do things or to adopt new behaviors. It is their role to provide solutions. It is up to you, as a citizen, to take advantage of the opportunities or not. In China, citizens are free to live life on their terms. In America, you must obey the law and fit into the prescribed behaviors established by the government.

Q: What if I don’t know how to dance?
A: No body know how to dance to the songs. They need to be instructed by the leader. Some learn fast, and some learn slow. If you watch the videos you will see old grandmothers shaking to the music even though they are not as lively as the other dancers. You just need to get up and TRY.

Links about China

Here are some links about my observations on China. I think that you, the reader, might find them to be of interest. Please kindly enjoy.

Popular Music of China
Chinese weapons systems
Chinese motor sports
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
Dance Craze
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Fake Wine
Fat China
Business KTV
How I got married in China.
Chinese apartment houses
Chinese Culture Snapshots
Rural China
Chinese New Year

China and America Comparisons

As an American, I cannot help but compare what my life was in the United States with what it is like living in China. Here we discuss that.

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Leaving the USA
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

The Chinese Business KTV Experience

This is the real deal. Forget about all that nonsense that you find in the British tabloids and an occasional write up in the American liberal press. This is the reality. Read or not.

KTV1
KTV2
KTV3
KTV4
KTV5
KTV6
KTV7
KTV8
KTV9
KTV10
KTV11
KTV12
KTV13
KTV14
KTV15
KTV16
KTV17
KTV18
KTV19
KTV20

Learning About China

Who doesn’t like to look at pretty girls? Ugly girls? Here we discuss what China is like by looking at videos of pretty girls doing things in China.

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Contemporaneous Chinese Music

This is a series of posts that discuss contemporaneous popular music in China. It is a wide ranging and broad spectrum of travel, and at that, all that I am able to provide is the flimsiest of overviews. However, this series of posts should serve as a great starting place for investigation and enjoyment.

Part 1 - Popular Music of China
Part 3 -Popular music of China.
Part 3 - The contemporaneous music of China.
part 3B - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 4 - The contemporaneous popular music of China.
Part 5 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5B - The popular music of China.
Part 5C - The music of contemporary China.
Part D - The popular music of China.
Part 5E - A happy Joe.
Part 5F - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5F - The popular music of China.
Post 6 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 7 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 8 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 9 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 10 - Music of China.
Post 11 - The contemporaneous music of China.

Parks in China

The parks in China are very unique. They are enormous and tend to be very mountainous. Here we take a look at this most interesting of subjects.

Parks in China - 1
Pars in China - 2
Parks in China - 3
Visiting a park in China - 4
High Speed Rail in China
Visiting a park in China - 5
Beautiful China part 6
Parks in China - 7
Visiting a park in China - 8

Really Strange China

Here are some posts that discuss a number of things about China that might seem odd, or strange to Westerners. Some of the things are everyday events, while others are just representative of the differences in culture.

Really Strange China 1
Really Strange China 2
Rally Strange China 3
Really Strange China 4
Really Odd China 5
Really Strange China 6
Really Strange China 7
Really Strange China 8
Really Strange China 9
Really Strange China 10
Really Strange China 11
Really Strange China 12
Really strange China 13
Really strange China 14

What is China like?

The purpose of this post is to illustrate that the rest of the world, outside of America, has moved on with their lives. That while they might not be as great as America is, they are doing just fine thank you.

And while America has been squandering it’s money, decimating it’s resources, and just being cavalier with it’s military, the rest of the world has done the opposite. They have husbanded their day to day fortunes, and you can see this in their day-to-day lives.

What is China like - 1
What is China like - 2
What is China Like - 3
What is China like - 4
What is China like - 5
What is China like - 6
What is China like - 8
What is China like - 8
What is China like - 9

Summer in Asia

Let’s take a moment to explore Asia. That includes China, but also includes such places as Vietnam, Thailand, Japan and others…

Summer Snapshots 1
Summer Snapshots 2
Summer Snapshots 3
Summer Snapshots 4
Snapshots Summer 5
Summer Snapshots 6
Summer Snapshot 7
Summer Snapshots 8
Summer Snapshots 9
Summer Snapshots 10
Summer Snapshots 11
Summer Snapshot 12

Some Fun Videos

Here’s a collection of some fun videos taken all over Asia. While there are many videos taken in China, we also have some taken in Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea and Japan as well. It’s all in fun.

Some fun videos of China - 1
Fun Videos of Asia - 2
Fun videos of Asia - 3
Fun videos of Asia - 4
Fun Videos of Asia - 5
Fun videos of Asia - 6
Fun videos of Asia - 7
Fun videos of Asia - 8
Fun videos of Asia - 9
Fun videos of Asia - 10
Fun videos of Asia - 11
Fun videos of Asia - 12
Fun videos of Asia - 13
Fun videos of Asia - 14
Fun Videos of Asia - 15
Fun videos of Asia -16
The best way to cook marshmallows.

Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles sequentially by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Learning about China by Looking at Pretty Girls (4)

This is the fourth of a series of post on Chinese cute girls and Chinese culture.

You know, China is a very, very big nation. Many times I am asked what it is like. Honestly, there is so much to say, that I end up going on some tangent or the other. However, one thing that I noticed when talking to other men, is that what they really want to know is what Chinese girls are like…

Wow! That is in itself a huge subject. 

Here I try to compose  a series of micro-videos of Chinese girls taking little vignettes of themselves being cute, dancing, eating, and doing girl things. It is in no way comprehensive, but it should give you a general idea of what Chinese girls are like. It will also help you to get a better idea of what China is like as well.

We need to do this. No one else is.

Here is a quote from JobTubeDaily;

"Popular U.S. media perpetuates constant negative narratives about China: ghost cities, real estate bubbles, pollution, corruption. While many of these problems are real, the predominately negative coverage drowns out the positive elements of life in China and its abundant economic opportunities. In doing so, the media dissuades America’s rising students, as well as business and political leaders, from learning more about the country."

Here is a quote from LinkedIN;

"And the western media aren't particularly helpful in explaining the real China of 2018.  They're serving so much bias and prejudice about China, it is nearly impossible for the general public to get in touch with the real China."

Here we look at ten micro-videos…

In a Park

In this video we see a girl dancing in a park. For some strange reason, my fellow Americans don’t seem to realize that China has parks. They also have toll booths, ATM machines, taxis, high speed trains and amusement parks. They have everything that the United States has. It’s just a little bit different.

Chinese toll booth.
Chinese toll booth. This are functionally very similar to American tool booths. They have rest areas as well.

Though, since China has undergone an amazing and enormous growth spurt over the last three decades, everything tends to be brand new and well taken cared for.

In China, there a different kinds of parks. The city parks tend to be well tended. They are typically manicured daily and trimmed at the very early hours of the day before the sun comes up. They are well maintained. In fact, depending where you live, they tend to be treated like a house with furniture that can be rearranged at will. They move trees about like your wife might want a sofa moved. They will plant flowers and then dig them up and replant something else two months later. They will constantly be painting and repainting the boxes, poles and manhole covers.

I asked some friends why this was so. They explained that China does not have a welfare system. The government does not pay you if you don’t have a job. Instead, if you need work and need money, they will put you to work. All you need to do is go to the city department of labor, and they will give you a job.

The pay is minimal, but you get free meals, and free housing if you want. You get on the government health plan, and you get Sundays off.

So with all these workers, it is very easy to employ them to take on various tasks that need to be done in and around the city. It is never considered a long-term occupation, but many people take advantage of this system. Is it perfect, I don’t think so. However, personally I do think it is superior to the American welfare system by a large margin.

Many parks tend to be on top of inaccessible hills. You need to be a mountain goat to climb up all them. I have a theory that when China was first being populated and over the last 5000 years, all the “good” and flat land was taken by farmers and businessmen.

The inaccessible and difficult land was ignored. Then, in the last one hundred years, these plots of undesirable land was remade into parks and community areas. Thus you have the parks all over China with a couple of thousand of steps to reach the top.

This cute girl is wearing the small white shoes (xiao bai xue) that is so popular in China. She is dressed typically with shorts and a small tight fitting top that shows off her chest. Like most Chinese girls, she keeps her hair long. What’s not to like?

All the parks are very well maintained. many have lighting for night time walks and strolls. Many also have music that plays out of artificial stones. Yes, they are speakers with holes so that you can listen to traditional Chinese music as you walk on the path. Of course, all paths are paved in stone.

In a Gym.

Here we have a girl in a gym. Notice the barbells are made up in American style colors. America and Americans are held in great respect by the Chinese. In fact, the Chinese name for America is Mei Guo which means “beautiful nation”. While there are many foreigners in China, most are not Americans. Most come from Australia and England. Which is sort of the reason why the English spelling and terms used by many Chinese tend to be of British origin. For instance using the word “boot” instead of “trunk”, or a “flat” instead of an “apartment”.

Which makes it even more special when there are Americans available to teach English or work with them on a project or two. Americans are considered a valuable and precious commodity.  Many stores and businesses celebrate American social customs, such as Halloween, and Christmas. They buy and set up Christmas Trees and decorate the offices with the proper holiday decorations…

…the only thing is that they leave them up all year round. It is not unusual to listen to Christmas carols in a mall in July.

This cute chick is showing off her beautiful muscle tone and nice behind. She has been working hard to perfect her body, and I for one appreciate all that she put into it. She looks absolutely stunning.

The funny thing about gyms in China is that they tend NOT to be air conditioned. The Chinese believe that a healthy body is a warm body. The purpose of exercise is to remove the bad water (sweat) from your body and replace it with good water. This and the movement of the body generates a movement of chi, or energy throughout the body. This is also one of the reasons why the Chinese love to dance so much, and all the public forums that support dancing.

In a Work Office.

Here we have another girl. She is in an office of some sort and wearing some kind of office clothes. Unlike the United States, showing your waist is acceptable in China, as is also wearing tight pants, short, short mini skirts and having long hair. They don’t have the kind of unisex taboos that have saturated American HR offices in the last two decades.

She has a nice body. She’s pretty typical with a thin waist, nice chest, and longish hair. Notice that she is very pale. A pale complexion is considered to be very popular in China. She is wearing red lipstick with is also a fashion statement and quite common.

The office itself is rather plain and unadorned. This is typical. The Chinese like to have a nice white stone floor and nice white walls whenever possible. This is most especially in the super hot Southern section of the nation. You will notice that there is a water cooler. Almost every home, and business uses water coolers. Even if the water in the pipes are no longer dangerous, you will NEVER get a Chinese person to drink water out of it.

Shanghai Apartment

This is a very nice example of what an apartment in Shanghai looks like. When people see pictures of China they see all these multi-story apartment complexes. No one ever sees what they are like on the inside. Well, as someone who has lived in numerous high-rise apartments, I can tell you. Often the view is magnificent.

In this example here, we have a great example of this.

The apartment is set off from the Bund river. It has a great view of a suburb of Shanghai, though not downtown. It is obviously the living room. As we can see the furnishings that support this. At night the view must be spectacular.

Note that she is not wearing any shoes. In China, no one wears “outside” shoes inside the house. Typically you wear house slippers.

Again, with all the large apartment skyscrapers throughout China, this is a fairly typical view that one would have in your apartment. This one is particularly nice as it overlooks the Bund and a very large and famous city.

Southern China

Hey! This looks like Bali, or Thailand, eh? Nope. It’s China. Southern China is filled with all kinds of beautiful beaches, communities and resorts. (Which is one of the reasons why I live where I do.)  The impression that all of China is a filthy rat’s hole filled with pollution and trash is simply not true.  That is like saying that all of America looks like Detroit.

Typically, you will have an Engineer come to China to do some work at a factory. His impressions of the factory regions would be very poor, and he would tend to associate all of China with those areas. It’s not his fault, he only got a small and brief look at what is an enormous nation.

To make matters worse, you will have the Western media who has an objective to keep American living in fear. They keep Americans dumb and ill-informed with the changes with the rest of the world. They do so for their own objectives.

Seriously, for the last three decades, trillions of dollars poured into China from all over the world. Are you trying to tell me that NONE of that money went into infrastructure, the people, the lifestyle and the society? Are you trying to convince me that it went into the pockets of the government and the rich people who run the businesses, even though an internal army of “Corruption Police” is active in keeping corruption suppressed? Is that what we are supposed to believe?

Incidentally, traveling to China and having a vacation here is far cheaper and better than having one in Bali, Indonesia. I know.

Outside Pizza Hut

Pizza Hut is very popular in China. In fact, it is owned by a conglomerate that also owns KFC. Together they have absolutely and effectively tapped into the Chinese market. They have taken these American products and made variations to the dishes to appeal to Chinese tastes and preferences.

It is sort of how the “Chinese” restaurants in America have taken Chinese food and “Americanized” it.

Pizza menu
Here is a photo from a Pizza Hut menu showing a popular side dish. You can get all kinds of side dishes with your meals at Pizza Hut. The Chinese love options and will spend a great deal of time perfecting their order choices.

Yes, you can get pizza at Pizza Hut. However it will be pretty pricey to order a large thin pepperoni pizza with a pitcher of coke. Instead you order set meals with option combinations. The pizzas are designed for the Chinese palate. Such as a Duran and oyster pizza with a side of quail eggs and snail meat. It does take a little getting used to.

Anyways, here we have a couple dancing in the open plaza in front of a shopping center. In China, they have different kinds of shopping centers. Typically it is a ring of stores around a large central pavilion.

It’s sort of how towns in Massachusetts were set up in the 1750’s; a “green” in the center facing a church and other buildings. Well, in China the shopping center may or may not have a mall or large “anchor” store. What it does have is a large area for communal dancing and games. Often it will have a fountain somewhere for the kids to splash and play in the water as well.

You can see the people walking and milling about. This is a very typical sight through out China from small towns to large cities. This scene could have been filmed anywhere.

Singing in English

One things that many people do not understand, especially Americans, is the enormous number of people who can speak English in China. About two decades ago, the Chinese government instituted a policy in all the Chinese schools. Every child must learn English in addition to learning Chinese. In fact, the ability to attend university absolutely requires that the student-candidate must be able to speak and write and communicate in English to a reasonable degree.

That is not to say that everyone speaks fluently. The ability to speak English varies greatly throughout China. Never the less, there are more people in China who can speak English than there are Americans on the entire planet. That is how absolutely enormous China is.

So you will hear many songs in China that have English or partial English lyrics. This is normal. It is the same with signs, advertisements and other notifications. China has developed into a nation with two languages. The dominant language is certainly Chinese, but English has a major role as well.

Here we have a Chinese girl singing in English. Obviously she is a professional. One should never be under the impression that China is a nation where no one can speak English. There are many people who can, and very many who can speak at a reasonably fluent level.

Notice that the music has lyrics in two languages; English and Chinese.

Sitting on a bench

OK. Now this is a boring video. It’s just some chick sitting on a bench in a park in China. “So what?” you might ask.

China is safe. You can go in and about all the parks any time of night and day and not get mugged, robbed, stolen from, attacked, shot at or raped. They do not have the same kinds of problems that we have in America, or in the West, simply because…

  1. There isn’t any welfare program. You must work or you die. The government will provide you with work if you cannot find a job. Those who are involved in criminal enterprises go after more lucrative targets. This includes people with vices that they can exploit and corporations.
  2. There are no “open borders”. This policy permits uneducated, un-assimilated, and fundamentalist fanatics to roam the streets in packs. Not in China. It is a polite society by design. Only qualified people can enter China. You join or you leave. There is no grey-area.
  3. Families are important. Each person in China has a support group. They all have an extensive network of family and friends that will go after criminals mafia-style if someone hurts a family member. This is unlike the USA where it’s “every man for himself”.
  4. Many girls can defend themselves. Sure they might not be “packing heat”, but many have learned Chinese martial arts when they were in elementary school. I have seen a tiny pint-sized waif take down a six-foot tall chunk of a man.
  5. Cameras are everywhere. Both city cameras and building cameras are all over the place. You are under constant surveillance. It is not that you are being watched. However, if something does happen, the Chinese forensics police can go “minority report” on your actions. They do. They have. It is televised on the news quite regularly.
  6. Police are everywhere. True they are mostly siting around playing video games, and helping the groundskeepers, but they are present. There are all kinds of guards. From regular police to security staff. They all can come and help in an instant.
  7. No social engineering of minorities. Unlike the United States, the Chinese government does not permit scaled benefits for minorities.  Thus we don’t have a nation of fatherless negro children being raised by television shows.
  8. Destruction of Slums. Unlike the United States, when communities disintegrate into crime and corruption, where the ability to live is disrupted and social harmony is nonexistent, the Chinese government steps in. Whether it is bulldozing a complete community, like it did in Hong Kong, or arresting and executing the corrupt government officials (with the Corruption Police). China does not mess around.

This is pretty typical. The young lass is wearing a nice dress and sitting in the comfortable evening air. You can see the lights of the nearby buildings twinkle and move through the trees nearby. Of course, like most of the micro-videos in this blog the music is all C-Pop.

The girl is a typical attractive Chinese female. She has nice long hair, and thin waist and a nice chest.  You will notice that all the plants are nicely cared for and trimmed. The groundskeepers take their roles seriously.

With a sofa

This girl is typical in a number of ways. First of all, consider her clothes and appearance. She has nice long straight and long hair. It is very popular in China. While she might have a tattoo or two, most Chinese girls do not have any tattoos unless they live in a Westernized city like Shanghai, Hong Kong, or Taipei.

She is wearing a nice short dress that hugs her body tight. This is very typically Chinese, and you can see all the girls dress like this when they go out int he bigger cities. She is also wearing high heeled shoes with a red colored sole. I really like these shoes, but you know, I have to tell you that I really hate it if they don’t take off that price sticker on the bottom. It really distracts from the overall appearance.

This is her apartment, and as such it is very typical. This is her living room with a Chinese-style sofa and coffee table. Note the tiny plastic trash can nearby. This is a common feature in all Chinese households, as is a tissue dispenser. The coffee table is made of glass. This is also typical.

Take a moment to look at the sofa. I, myself, do not care for this style. However it is very popular in China.  She is covering it with a blanket to protect it. We used to do that in the United States also. Furniture used to be protected by throws and other coverings. All pillows are organized and neatly laid out. The woman of the house always takes good care of the domicile. This is one thing that I do love about China.

An Ideal face

This young lass is in her early twenty’s. She is showing off her body and her nice curves. By Chinese standards she has a most excellent face and is considered very attractive. Thus the strange faces that she is making towards the camera.

She has a very pale complexion. She is soft, but not flabby. Curvy, but not fat. She has nice eyes and an oval face with a nice pointy chin. All of these features are considered highly desirable in China.

The Chinese don’t care if she has big boobs or a big ass. They prefer a nice slim fish-shaped body on the girls. A big set of boobs or a big ass won’t get very many “double takes” in China. By that standard, she is still considered attractive as her chest is proportional with her ass. She has a fish-like shape.

Though, many of the women, the thinner ones posted elsewhere, would be considered to be jaw-dropping gorgeous. In any event, this chick has quite a few followers who like to admire her face, her smile and her other charms. You go girl!

Notice that she is wearing a solid silver ring bracelet on her right arm. This is very popular in China. Both gold and silver are considered great materials. Unlike the United States these are pure materials. They are not alloys

When you go to a jeweler in the United States and ask for a gold wedding band, they will offer you gold bands. But these are gold alloys. They are not pure gold. The excuse is that gold is a soft metal. Yada Yada Yada…

I have sold gold rings and they haven’t worn out yet…

In China, when you buy gold, you buy 99.9% pure gold. You are not sold gold which is an alloy. That is how the jeweler in the United States makes their money. When I first came to China, I was having a hard time at it. I tied to sell the little that I had. I was surprised that the “solid gold” wedding band that I got in the States was only 5% real gold. The rest was an alloy of different materials.

Five. Friggin’. Percent.

If you ever want to get a nice gold ring, don’t buy it in the United States. Hop on a plane and get it in Hong Kong.

Gold store
Chow Tai Fook Jewelry store in Hong Kong. I would strongly advise Americans to purchase real gold instead of the fake gold that is being pawned off as “real” gold in the United States. Real gold is determined by the percentage of alloy in it. Real gold should have at least 95% gold metal in it. It does not require much in the way of an alloy to make it durable. While it is true that 99.999% gold is very soft, a 98% gold will be rock hard and not wear at all.

Conclusion

Everyone likes to look at pretty girls. Even other pretty girls. I, as a man, think that pretty girls liven up our lives and make it more interesting and fun. I would not mind taking any one of these girls out and having a nice meal or playing around in a park or some other place. Having good companionship, great conversation, and enjoying a wonderful meal would be awesome with any of these women.

Today it is difficult to see what other places are like, if you are an American. Our news is heavily propagandized.

  • Those on the liberal side have the impression that China eats dogs, is full of poor waifs that sell their bodies for sex, and is full of dirty smog filled air.
  • Those on the conservative side, have the impression that China is a great war-mongered beast who wants to take over the Pacific, that they are ruthless businessmen, and want to keep their citizens imprisoned in a communist gulag.

Neither impression is correct. They are both terrible distortions.

China is a huge nation, bigger geographically than the United States, and with an enormous population far larger than America’s. In fact, there are more people in China that speak English than there are Americans in the entire world.

They live life. They work. They study hard. They try to do their best. They have fun. They raise families. They are, in many ways, like “old fashioned” Americans around 1950. While America has moved toward a progressive socialist paradise ruled by an oligarchy, China has moved in a different direction. It has moved toward free-market policies originating out of a central government. China is not at all what we think it is.

This post is my little way to help introduce China to the readership.

Take Aways

  • Chinese women are attractive.
  • Many of the buildings in China are new, and have a modern supporting infrastructure.
  • Chinese people like to dance, sing, and have fun with their friends.
  • Chinese women DO NOT look like pre-adolescent children. (Here’s a nod to the idiots in Arkansas who were absolutely convinced that Chinese women look like little pre-adolescent girls.)

FAQ

Q: Why do you only have beautiful Chinese girls? What about being more diverse and inclusive? Why do you objectify girls?
A: Well, for one, this article is about attractive Chinese girls. It wouldn’t do to have non-Chinese girls in it. Nor would it be appropriate to have men, homosexuals, fat and ugly girls, children or LGBT creatures in the article.

If you want to purge beauty out of your life, no problem. Go ahead and do it. Just like American beauty pageants are no longer about beauty. Just like American airlines have purged themselves of age and beauty standards. Just like race-cars have purged themselves of attractive women. But you won’t see that in China.

Now here, I like to surround myself with beauty. I like to surround myself with things that I like and I love. That includes dogs, cats, pizza, bacon, tomatoes, friends and of course my loved ones.

Q: Why do you use micro-videos in this post?
A: I think it does a nice job of giving a snapshot of what China is like. Many of the videos have Chinese songs. They all feature beautiful Chinese girls in China doing things that beautiful Chinese girls like to do. Of course, if you would rather go to you-tube, go ahead. You won’t find very many Chinese girls there. You-tube is banned in China because it, like Facebook, Google, and Tumblr, all collect user information and pipe that information directly to the NSA for American government’s use.

Q: Why do you think these girls are beautiful?
A: Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. What constitutes for beauty in China is different from what is beautiful elsewhere. I chose these videos because I happen to think the girls are cute, beautiful or attractive. Of course, if you disagree with me, you can leave.

Now, you shouldn’t be too upset there are some rocking girls in the United States. You should see them in sweatpants. My Lord!

Links about China

Business KTV

Dance Craze

End of the Day Potato

Dog Shit

Dancing Grandmothers

When the SJW movement took control of China

Family Meal

Freedom & Liberty in China

Ben Ming Nian

Beware the Expat

Fake Wine

Fat China

Chinese apartment houses

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 19AUG18.
  2. Composition finished 24AUG18.
  3. SEO review 24AUG28.
  4. Posting 24AUG28.

Allow your Children to Play and Grow (Part 2)

This is the second part of a two part article. This little post was inspired by a little article titled “Doctor’s Orders; Let children just play” posted in the hot dog-days of summer, August 2018.

Their 10- and 6-year old were picked up by police and detained for five hours in 2015 for walking home “unsupervised” from a local park. The folks at Child Protective Services threatened to take the children away from Danielle and Alexander Meitiv.

With court battles ensuing and ample media attention, the head of Maryland’s Social Services Administration finally released a memo to staff acknowledging in creepy bureaucratic fashion that, 

“Children playing outside or walking unsupervised does not meet the criteria for a CPS response absent specific information supporting the conclusion that the child has been harmed or is at substantial risk of harm if they continue to be unsupervised.”

-Townhall

The article reinforces a notion that I have that “play is the work of children”. It is how they learn to become an adult. It doesn’t matter if you are a dog, a cat, an elephant, or a monkey, all animals learn from playing. Here, I would like to continue my discussion of things that a parent should permit their children to do…

Squash a Penny on a Railroad Track

“In many ways life was so much more predictable back then; in other ways it was much less so. Organized sports were almost non-existent in my childhood. Summer was free time on steroids, with hours, days, weeks (it seemed like forever back then!) to do nothing. I don’t recall being bored; but we played as a matter of course outside the aperture of our parent’s eye. Off to the playground on our bike; downtown to get a soda or fudgesicle; or, in the case of some of the older kids, hanging around waiting for the afternoon papers to come in before heading out on their paper route. But this day, we were in the business of sabotage. Today, we were going to do something really big … and dangerous. This could change everything….

We glanced around to make sure no one was watching. The caper was on. The penny was placed well down the tracks from our hiding place. We were tucked in under a pile of brush and ducked low so as not to be seen from the train. Then, we heard it. There was a crossing about half a mile away, and the whistle blew. There was no rushing the tracks now, no undoing what we had done.

The big locomotive could be heard rumbling toward us. Think of it –  a time when placing a penny on the railroad tracks was paramount to sedition! I would graduate to more serious pranks as I got older, but by today’s standards the bar was extremely low for our misbehaving antics…

… I remember being very nervous, praying that train would stay upright and on course. As the engine lumbered by us I recall the feeling of relief. And as the caboose faded safely into the distance, having waited to make certain no engineer could spot us, we ran to the location. There it was: the flattened penny; pancake currency and the feeling of exhilaration believing that we had taken a tremendous risk and come out of it unscathed.”

-Believeinplace Blog

In my days of yore, pennies were made of copper.  So when you would put a penny on the tracks it would flatten out into a flat copper plate.  Not, so today.  American pennies are made out of a zinc alloy. (The modern penny is made of 97.5 percent zinc and 2.5 percent copper. This is known as copper plated zinc.) Ah, it’s not the same.  I would suggest using a nickel or better yet, a dime instead.

Nickels have more copper in them than pennies do.  So it is better to flatten. Pennies only have about 2.5% copper in it, but nickels are 75% copper. The U.S. first struck 5¢ nickel coins in 1866. All nickels from that date to the present except for the famous “war nickels” (mid-1942 to 1945) are made of the same metal, an alloy of 75% copper and 25% nickel. “War nickels” were made of 35% silver, 56% copper, and 9% manganese because nickel was needed for the war effort.

Dimes are better than nickels. So, if the reader were to use a dime, as it is almost 92% copper, it is more like that of the copper pennies of our youth. As of 2014, the dime is made out of a blend of metals called “clad.” A copper center is sandwiched between two layers of a 75-percent copper and 25-percent nickel blend. The total composition of a modern dime is 91.67 percent copper and 8.33 percent nickel.

American CoinPercentage of Copper
Penny2.5%
Nickel75%
Dime92%
You do want to stay aware as you put your penny on a railroad track to be sure a train isn’t coming. If you’re going to wait for the train to come by and smoosh your coin, you also want to stand back at least 30 feet, as it could hypothetically come flying off and hit you. You don’t have to wait around for the train, though. If you decide to come back in a few hours or the next day to see what became of your penny, mark the spot with a stick before you leave for easy finding later on.

-The Risky Kid
Flattened coins
A handful of some flattened coins. When was the last time that YOU, the reader, held a flattened coin in the palm of your hand? I’ll bet that it was a long time ago.

The types of train tracks that one would try this kind of feat are freight lines, and freight lines ONLY.

High speed rail is far to dangerous to attempt.  The same is true for subway lines and similar rail.  Anything that involves the transport of humans is to be avoided. Don’t even consider it. It is DANGEROUS.

Always stick to rail that services freight, and you will be fine. Back in my school days, the freight lines carried coal, and a handful of box cars in and about the Allegheny hills.

And, while you are at it, hanging around railroad tracks, might I suggest the following activities…

  • Walk on top of the tracks and see how long you can go before falling off. (Not everyone shares my point of view. HERE is an article where it is considered the height of danger and folly to walk on train tracks. HERE is an article that says that it is terribly DANGEROUS and maybe evil to even suggest children participate in such a thing.)
  • Searching for loose railroad spikes. These are the “nails” that hold the tracks to the wood ties. (A rail spike (also known as a cut spike or crampon) is a large nail with an offset head that is used to secure rails and base plates to railroad ties (sleepers) in the track.)
Robert Livingston Stevens is credited with the invention of the rail spike, the first recorded use of which was in 1832. The railroad spike was an invention which resulted from the state of industrialisation in the United States in the early 19th century: English mainline railways of that period used heavy and expensive cast iron chairs to secure T-shaped rails; instead, Stevens added a supporting base to the T rail which could be fixed with a simple spike. In 1982, the spike was still the most common rail fastening in North America. Common sizes are from 9⁄16 to 10⁄16 inch (14 to 16 mm) square and 5 1⁄2 to 6 inches (140 to 150 mm) long.
  • Collecting those little marble sized metal ores that abound on and between the tracks. I never found out what they were and why they existed as a boy, but I used to pick up a couple and toss them into the trees as I’d walk. Later on, after the invention of the internet, I was able to figure out what these things were…
These little dirty black marble sized balls are Taconite pellets. They are iron and are formed into pellets for the trip from the mine to industry. Several materials are formed into pellets or beads in this way. Plastic is another. In a pellet form the iron, plastic, what ever, takes on more of a fluid characteristic which is easier to transport, load and unload, store, and measure.

Sword Fight With Sticks

“I fight in a group called River Run Belegarth, a realm of Belegarth Medieval Combat Society.

As per the name, we are a medieval battle game utilizing padded weapons including but not limited to; swords (large and small), shields, arrows, javelins, spears, maces, and flails. The Belegarth community spreads across the country, we even have realms in Canada and Puerto Rico.

We follow a simple honor based system. The Belegarth rules are found in the Book of War.”

-reddit

Parents are wary of anything involving sharp objects, sticks included. However, letting your kid engage in some improvised swashbuckling is too fun an opportunity to pass up because of a negligible risk of injury. One of the most memorable events is to take them to a medieval recreation or fair.  Have them dress up and enjoy (something every little girl yearns to do).

Dress-up is very big in China. Especially traditional Han clothing and outfits.

A Renaissance fair, Renaissance faire, or Renaissance festival is an outdoor weekend gathering, usually held in the United States, open to the public and typically commercial in nature, which purportedly recreates a historical setting for the amusement of its guests. 

Some are permanent theme parks, while others are short-term events in a fairground, winery, or other large public or private spaces. 

Renaissance fairs generally include an abundance of costumed entertainers or fair-goers, musical and theatrical acts, art and handicrafts for sale, and festival food. 

Some offer campgrounds for those who wish to stay more than one day. Many Renaissance fairs are set during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I of England. Some are set earlier, during the reign of Henry VIII, or in other countries, such as France, and some are set outside the era of the Renaissance; these may include earlier Medieval periods (including Vikings), or later periods, such as 17th-18th Century pirates. 

Some engage in deliberate "time travel" by encouraging participants to wear costumes representing several eras in a broad time period. Renaissance fairs encourage visitors to enter into the spirit of things with costumes and audience participation. Many welcome fantasy elements such as wizards and elves.

-Wikipedia
Sword Fight
Here is a typical event at a Renaissance fair. This is a mock sword fight. Often there are rules that must be followed for the mutual enjoyment and safety of the participants.

Ah… To dress up and role play. Don’t let the “busy body” down the street prevent your children from role play…

“In Waynesboro, Georgia, “trick or treaters” must be 12 or younger; they must be in a costume; and they must be accompanied by an adult at least 21 years of age. 

So if you have kids who are 15, 10, and 8, you can’t send them out together. The 15-year-old is not allowed to dress up, yet she won’t be considered old enough to supervise her siblings for another six years. And this is on the one night of the entire year we traditionally let children pretend to be adults.

Other schools and community centers now send letters home asking parents not to let their children wear scary costumes. 

Some even organize “trunk or treats”—cars parked in a circle, trunks open and filled with candy, thus saving the kids from having to walk around the neighborhood or knock on doors. (That would be tiring and terrifying.) If this is childhood, is it any wonder college kids also expect to be micromanaged on Halloween?

At Yale in 2015, after 13 college administrators signed a letter outlining appropriate vs. inappropriate costume choices for students, the childhood development expert and campus lecturer Erika Christakis suggested that it would be better to allow kids to think for themselves. 

After all, Halloween is supposed to be about pushing boundaries. 

“Is there no room anymore for a child or young person to be a little obnoxious…or, yes, offensive?” she wrote. “Have we lost faith in young people’s capacity—your capacity—to ignore or reject things that trouble you?”

Apparently, yes. 

Angry students mobbed her husband, the professor Nicholas Christakis, surrounding him in the courtyard of the residential college where he served as master. 

They screamed obscenities and demanded he apologize for believing, along with his wife, that college students are in fact capable of handling offensive costumes on Halloween. “Be quiet!” a student shouted at him at one point. “As master, it is your job to create a place of comfort and home for the students!””

-The Fragile Generation

Stand on the Roof

This little activity is not something that I ever thought was significant.  However, it was not until I was older that I began to realize the importance of it. My first experience was when I was (maybe) seven, and my “girlfriend” (at the time, a young cutie named Mary) snuck me into her bedroom, and we crawled out her bedroom window and hung out on her roof. Indeed, what kid hasn’t wanted to get a bird’s eye view of the neighborhood?

Ah, Mary. She taught me many things.  She was my teacher for making my first ketchup sandwich, and she taught me how to steal candy from the local store. Heh heh. 

Don’t worry, the store keeper called our parents and we got a long lecture on how bad we were. Her father used to make rock candy in his basement, and we would go down and eat some sugar from time to time.  

I suppose if we would have been a little older we would have experienced other “firsts” together… first kiss, first sex, first… However, that never materialized as we moved and I never saw her again.

Ah. Standing on the roof.

“Sandseter began observing and interviewing children on playgrounds in Norway. In 2011, she published her results in a paper called “Children’s Risky Play From an Evolutionary Perspective: The Anti-Phobic Effects of Thrilling Experiences.”

Children, she concluded, have a sensory need to taste danger and excitement; this doesn’t mean that what they do has to actually be dangerous, only that they feel they are taking a great risk.

That scares them, but then they overcome the fear.

In the paper, Sandseter identifies six kinds of risky play: 

(1) Exploring heights, or getting the “bird’s perspective,” as she calls it—“high enough to evoke the sensation of fear.” 

(2) Handling dangerous tools—using sharp scissors or knives, or heavy hammers that at first seem unmanageable but that kids learn to master. 

(3) Being near dangerous elements—playing near vast bodies of water, or near a fire, so kids are aware that there is danger nearby. 

(4) Rough-and-tumble play—wrestling, play-fighting—so kids learn to negotiate aggression and cooperation. 

(5) Speed—cycling or skiing at a pace that feels too fast. 

(6) Exploring on one’s own.

This last one Sandseter describes as “the most important for the children.” She told me, “When they are left alone and can take full responsibility for their actions, and the consequences of their decisions, it’s a thrilling experience.””

-The Overprotected Kid

This is ideal if you are at home in the United States.  This way, standing on the roof of your home is one of the more risky activities, and yet the most rewarding. In all cases, please supervise this vertical venture and take the necessary precautions: Only allow your child to attempt if your roof isn’t overly steep and is in good condition, without loose shingles and other potential hazards. Have your kid walk straight up and down the roof, standing with one foot on either side of its peak for stability, as they survey the landscape below.

High Ground
The high-ground has a tremendous impact on how you view your life. Cats understand. Dogs understand. Tigers understand. Eagles understand. Many liberal parents do not.

Here in China, access to the top floor of all buildings is easily accessible. All one need do is take an elevator to the 86 floor, and then take the stairs up to the roof. It’s not for the faint of heart, but trust me, your kids would love it.

Shoot a Gun

Children and guns
Children throughout South East Asia are taught on how to handle and use firearms. This used to be common in the United States. However, after the election of Barrack Obama the first, this has become considered unpopular and dangerous. Here we have kids in Thailand being taught.
Warning; I advocate that children should be taught to be able to use firearms safely. This is not considered proper in our new American progressive reality. Never the less, it is my strong belief. My Children all are taught here in communist China on how to handle firearms and shoot, and I believe that there is no excuse why American children can't be trusted to do the same.

When I grew up, all my male classmates were out shooting guns when they were seven.  My father, of an urban liberal persuasion, wouldn’t let me near a firearm until I was 17.  Still, I strongly believe that one of the most important skills a parent can teach their children is self defense. Dogs do it.  Cats do it, tigers do it.  Only domesticated animals like cows, sheep, chickens, turkeys, and domesticated pigs don’t.  (I guess that is why we farm them for food. They don’t fight back.)

Yes. Humans tend NOT to EAT animals that fight back.  I wonder why…

Ruger .22
Here is a nice Ruger .22 with a laser sight and silencer. This is a perfect starter pistol that also has some nice practical uses as well.

If I still lived in the United States, I would make the arrangements to teach my children how to shoot.  As it stands, here in China they have to wait until they are in their early teens before they obtain weapon training (everyone in China MUST complete basic military training as part of middle school). The good news is that they will get a very comprehensive training in both small arms, and fully automatic weapons.

Wild hogs are taught to defend themselves and fight.  When someone wants to prevent you from learning how to defend yourself, they have a REASON to do so.
Nice pistol
Find a gun that fits the palm of the hand well. This is especially true for the females in your family. Let them practice with it. Practice over an over until they are lethal with it.

Proactively teaching your kids how to safely use firearms is the best way to teach a healthy respect for them. Don’t allow them to learn by Hollywood movies.  These are very unhealthy mediums for learning about firearms. (As anyone can attest to the “sideways” pistol shooting style popularized by the negro urban youth, and the “thug” culture. It is not a way to accurately shoot a pistol.)

When they’re 7 or so, introduce them to a pellet gun and begin teaching proper gun safety rules like keeping their finger off the trigger until they’re ready to shoot and treating every weapon as if it were loaded. Set up a a target (tin cans are fun) in your backyard and let them plink away while you watch.

History of shooting
Up until recently all American boys could shoot and knew firearm safety. That all started to end after 9-11, and just about disappeared publicly during the Obama Administration around 2008.

As they get a little older, they can tote around their BB gun by themselves. Don’t worry about them shooting their eye out! Teach your children to be careful, and to follow basic safety precautions at all times. What was good for my generation, my parents’ generation, my grandparent’s generation, and all the generations before them is good for our children today. Do not buy into the political narrative that only the government should own guns. You would think that we would learn from history by now.

In fact, there is an outright war going on that is trying to stupid-down (not dumb-down) American children. This is a planned and staged effort. Here’s an article about just such an effort in Boulder, Colorado.  Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, all kinds of restrictions were being placed on the children there…

“At times, it seems like our culture is conjuring dangers out of thin air, just to have something new to worry about. Thus, the Boulder Public Library in Colorado recently forbade anyone under 12 to enter without an adult, because “children may encounter hazards such as stairs, elevators, doors, furniture, electrical equipment, or other library patrons.” Ah, yes, kids and library furniture. Always a lethal combo.

Happily, the library backed off that rule, perhaps thanks to merciless mocking in the media. But saner minds don’t always prevail. At Mesa Elementary School, which also happens to be in Boulder, students got a list of the items they could not bring to the science fair. These included “chemicals,” “plants in soil,” and “organisms (living or dead).” And we wonder why American children score so low on international tests.”

Well… so much for Chemisty, Biology, and Taxidermy.

“But perhaps the single best example of how fantastically fearful we’ve become occurred when the city of Richland, Washington, got rid of all the swings on its school playgrounds. The love of swinging is probably older than humanity itself, given our arboreal origins. 

But as a school district spokesman explained, “Swings have been determined to be the most unsafe of all the playground equipment on a playground.”

The reader should understand that a government that will restrict a child from the dangers of a swing would absolutely go bonkers over firearm training.  Those who have obtained these positions in power want to rule in absolute proclamations. They will to do so and lord their haughty positions over you and your progeny.

“You may think your town has avoided such overkill, but is there a merry-go-round at your local park, or a see-saw? Most likely they, too, have gone the way of lawn darts. The Consumer Product Safety Commission even warns parks of “tripping hazards, like…tree stumps and rocks,” a fact unearthed (so to speak) by Philip Howard, author of 2010’s Life Without Lawyers.

The problem is that kids learn by doing. Trip over a tree stump and you learn to look down. There’s an old saying: Prepare your child for the path, not the path for your child. We’re doing the opposite.”

-The Fragile Generation

My children all know how to handle firearms. In fact, it was one of the first things we did when we went to Thailand one year. I made it a special point to give them the firearm training by an expert there, and expose them to different types of firearms. Thailand is like the United States and Switzerland, citizens can own and fire firearms there.

Gun selection in Thailand
You can buy and shoot guns in much of South East Asia. Here we have a man looking in a store front at the various firearms on display for sale or rent. (For rent!)

Contrary to the huge onslaught of anti-gun rhetoric from the oligarchy, the Democrats, and their news media, there are those of us that treasure our ability to shoot back if someone tries to hurt us. For my children this is especially true. None of them have shot anyone’s eyes out. Nor have they used it to rob a gas station, or threaten a bully.

Walter PK 380
Walter pistols allow for different sized hand grips to allow for small hands. Here is a .38 caliber version. I used to have a 9mm version that I was very partial of when I lived in the States.

When they reach about age 10 or 11, you can introduce them to a .22 caliber rifle or pistol. Again, this should be done under your supervision and you should reinforce good gun safety principles the entire time.

Guns and firearms are dangerous devices.  Everyone should know how to operate one, but absolute training and safety is of first importance.  For hundreds of years, American children learned how to handle firearms.  I myself were taught in my High School gym class as early as ten years old. Of course, today, in this progressive ideal that is what the United States has become, the mere mention of this is considered heresy.

It need not be.  It is not heresy.  It is history.

In fact, one of my greatest laments is how history is not being taught at all in the United States today.  Instead, it is some kind of organized propaganda organ designed to incite diversion and discord. Most people today have no idea that those what fought Great Britain during the Revolutionary War were very young. They birthed a nation when they were in their teenage years.

Dad's girl
Ah yes. Daddy’s little girl. Pew Pew Pew.

The Journal of the American Revolution offered this imaginative and fascinating list of the ages of these and other notable figures from the revolutionary era at the moment of America’s founding.

And as one examines the list of nearly 150 of the war’s most revered and reviled, it becomes clear just how young so many of these legendary individuals actually were at the time.

The author of the piece and founding editor of the journal, Todd Andrlik goes so far as to characterize the Founding Fathers much more accurately as the “founding teenagers… or twenty somethings.” And he’s quite right to do so, according to the list.

Consider these:

  • Nathan Hale, the legendary Continental spy who lamented on the gallows that he had but one life to give for his country was just 21 in 1776.
  • Surprisingly, so was the much hated and feared British cavalry commander “Bloody” Banastre Tarleton.
  • Similarly, the supposed sewer of the first Star Spangled Banner, Betsy Ross, was just 24.
  • While the leader of the France’s forces in America, Marquis de Lafayette, was a mere 18-year-old in 1776.

Among the ranks of the war’s thirty-somethings include Thomas Jefferson (33), patriot pamphleteer Thomas Paine (39), Britain’s General Cornwallis (38) and King George III (also 38). To check out the full article (and you really should), click HERE. A fine book about just one boy can be found HERE.

This being said, there are some firearms that should wait until your child becomes an adult (or at least 18 years old). For instance, consider this little beauty…

Big gun.
Children can play, but firearms are not toys. Once the child has learned the skills to handle themselves, then they can be taught responsibility.

I would think twice before I would have my child shoot off a round from this “bad boy”. No.  This type of firearm is best left until they are old enough and mature enough to handle it.  I would dare say, that they must at least be old enough to serve in the military. Wouldn’t you think?

Which reminds me, speaking of the military, here’s a bunch of 16 to 18 year olds playing around with a quad version of the above gun…

Quad 20mm AA
Here is a quad-mounted 20mm anti-aircraft gun. Here, the Nazi German soldiers use this device against aircraft. It was also devastating against infantry as well.

Burn Things With a Magnifying Glass

There are many fun and interesting ways to start a fire without matches, but using a magnifying glass is one of the most versatile. I was first introduced to it when I was maybe six years old, and I inflicted a world of hurt on some poor unsuspecting ants near a parking lot where I lived.

Use of a magnifying glass provides you with a focused beam of heat that cannot only burn paper and leaves, but melt plastic. A kid can even use it to burn a symbol or his name into a piece of wood.

It need not be expensive, all office stationary stores carry them.

Burning an anthill
One thing that I did when I was a young boy, was sit at the side of a parking lot and burn ants with a magnifying glass. I tortured those poor things. I would watch them scurry about and try to deal with the attack that had befallen them. I was so uncaring.

They are especially useful for old farts like me to be better able to read the find print in legal documents, and get the (impossible) code on the back of Apple products.

Roughhouse

“Cross-cultural studies have found that the one thing fathers across the world have in common is that they roughhouse with their kids more than moms. And roughhousing, according to science, makes kids awesome.”

-The Importance of Fathers

Roughhousing may just look like a primitive-level melee of potentially injury-causing wrestling and hair pulling, but it actually has a bunch of high-level benefits. Whether children are mixing it up with Dad, or with each other, research has shown that good old fashioned horseplay develops kids’ resilience, intelligence, and even empathy — it teaches them how to negotiate the dynamics of aggression, cooperation, and fair play. So suplex your children more often, and don’t break up the good natured battle royales they put on between themselves.

Climb a Tree

China has the most amazing trees, especially here in the South (China).  Yet no one climbs them.  You would think that the “forever trees” would make great climbing, but no ones does so.  Why is this? Few activities feel more liberating than climbing a tree. It’s thrilling to leave the ground and test your physical deftness, as well as your daring as you decide just how high up you’ll go. Indeed, the air seems fresher among the branches.

Ban Yan Tree
The Ban Yan tree is a most enormous and kid-friendly tree that is found all over Southern China. It is magnificent. Yet, I never see any Chinese kids climb it. I guess that they are too busy studying. It is called “The Forever Tree” because it has tendrils that cascade downward and borrow into the ground to make new trees. They can become enormous and massive.
“There is rising American interest in European-style “forest kindergartens,” where kids receive little formal instruction and have more freedom to explore in nature. And in Washington, D.C., not far from where I live, we finally have our first exciting playground since the “forgotten playground” was leveled. Located at a private school called Beauvoir, it has a zip line and climbing structures that kids of all ages perceive as treacherous. I recently met someone who worked on the playground and asked him why the school board wasn’t put off by safety concerns, especially since it keeps the park open to the public on weekends. He said the board was concerned about safety but also wanted an exciting playground; the safety guidelines are, after all these years, still just guidelines.”

-The Overprotected Kid

When I was a boy I would climb anything.  In our back yard we had apple trees (that we would climb just to get the apples), “weeping” willow trees, large and big acorn trees, the magnificent chestnut trees, pine trees (and I did climb them, and ended up terribly sappy) and my all time super favorite tree the Northern Catalpa (Catalpa speciose). (Also known as the Indian Bean Tree.  My father told me that local Indians used to take the pea pods on this tree and smoke them.)

The Northern Catalpa is a tree that demands your attention. White, showy flowers. Giant heart-shaped leaves. Dangling bean-like seed pods. Twisting trunk and branches. How could you not stop to take it in? And with all of these unique features, the northern catalpa is popular with kids as well.
The Indian bean tree
Here is the awesome Indian Bean Tree. There are versions that have great and dense leaf cover. They are always beautiful and wonder places to play in and enjoy the weather and companionship with.

The banyan tree has to be the most kid-friendly tree in the world.  Here, the tree lets town hundreds of tentacles that once they take root, form new trees.  An old ban yan tree might consist of hundreds of tree trunks and a network canopy that would put the Swiss Family Robenson tree-house to shame. Climbing a tree is the most classic of classic childhood activities. Don’t deprive your children of the adventures of tree climbing.

“Yep - our playgrounds were on beaten dirt from use. We built tree forts with axes and saws and hammers and nails and climbed high trees and roofs where access was available) and had apple/slingshot/BB-gun “wars” and learned the concepts of safety by being allowed to find out that was safe and what caused pain.....and became pretty well adjusted adults who didn’t cower in fear and become emotionally scarred for life at a chalked name on some concrete on a college campus....”

-trebb 02/03/2018 5:51:01 AM PST · 17 of 21

And…

It’s not all about climbing.  It is also about building.  What about the joys and pleasures of building your own tree house? Does anyone still do that in the United States anymore?  I wonder. In most towns and cities, there is probably some ordinance or rule preventing the construction for some kind of liability consideration.  Moreover, or course if you are in a Democrat stronghold, you will probably have to pay some sort of taxes on the construction.  Ah… all the “improvements” that well-intentioned ignorant inflict on the community…

"Many websites and parental organizations suggest the parents build a tree house, and not the children.  Nonsense! Kids have been building tree houses in the USA for centuries, but all that seemed to come to a complete and sudden stop about two decades ago. 

Let your children learn.  Let them build and let them explore.  Good golly! Here is a typical website advising how to climb a tree (the child wears a helmet), and how the parents can build a tree house for the children.”  (Sigh.) 

-Kidspot
Ban Yan Tree
Here is another Ban Yan tree. It’s it awesome? I love how large it gets. In this instance, it should be much larger than it is, but obviously the caretakers are spending the time to trim it and keep it manageable.

Now, at the time of this writing, we do not live on a plot of land where we have many trees.  In fact we live in a nice large building with a shared lawn and a park surrounding us.  However, were we ever to move back to the USA or some similar location, I would help my children build a tree house.  It is a key memory of my boyhood.

tree house
You have to admit that tree-houses are great. However, I would suggest that it is far better to have a crappy rough cut and nailed tree platform made by your children alone is far better than one done by good-old-dad. You should give direction and help. You should not do it. Let them plan it. Let them make it. Let them build it. let them assemble it. It is theirs. Let them learn and have pride in it.
“Not letting your kid climb a tree because he might fall robs him of a classic childhood experience. But being emotionally overprotective takes away something else. “We have raised a generation of young people who have not been given the opportunity to…experience failure and realize they can survive it,” Gray has said. When Lenore’s son came in eighth out of nine teams in a summer camp bowling league, he got an eighth-place trophy. The moral was clear: We don’t think you can cope with the negative emotions of finishing second-to-last.

Of course, it’s natural to want to see kids happy. But the real secret to happiness isn’t more high fives; it’s developing emotional resilience.

In our mania for physical safety, coupled with our recent tendency to talk about “emotional safety,” we have systematically deprived our children of the thousands of challenging—and sometimes upsetting—experiences that they need in order to learn that resiliency. And in our quest to protect them, we have stolen from children the best resilience training known to man: free play.”

-The Fragile Generation

Cook a Meal

I first made a ketchup sandwich when I was four or five years old (Mary taught me.). Toast came later at maybe seven, and by nine years old I made my first hamburger.

All kids need to be introduced to the joys of making their own food. Cooking might not seem that dangerous, but once your kids start wanting to help make dinner, you begin noticing how many tasks involve sharp and potentially dangerous hazards. Yet, this is the perfect venue to expose your children to those hazards… right next to you at your side.

Do not fall prey to the temptation of coddling your children. It’s worth not only letting your children assist you in the kitchen, but allowing them to try cooking on their own too. More so than any other activity on this list, it will teach them a valuable skill towards grown-up self-sufficiency.

Cooking a hotdog
Why not cook a hotdog? One of my first experiences in cooking was being taught how to sharpen a stick (with my boy scout knife) and sticking a hotdog on it. Then watching how to cook it inside a nice campfire outside. What is so wrong about that? Then, later I could add all the goodies that I wanted to it. This mostly consisted of relish, ketchup, onion and cut up tomatoes.

One of the best things that my mother did was give all of us siblings an illustrated cookbook. I must have spent six months on a quest to make the perfect handmade pizza. While my sisters were busy making pies, cakes and cookies, my brother and I were deep into lasagna, homemade cream-of-asparagus soup, and different types of breads. Indeed, I was from this simple gift that I obtained my love (and appreciation) of real salted butter, extra-sharp cheddar cheese, and extra virgin olive oil.

Mothers listen up! Boys love to eat, and if you let them, they would LOVE to spend time in the kitchen with you. Who knows maybe you have a budding young chef?

Bacon and eggs
You can get children started on easy to make, but fundamental meals like breakfast eggs. You can do this on a campfire, or at home. You can teach them how to break open the eggs, and how to put oil in the pan. You can teach them about salt and pepper, and don’t forget the bacon, or the delicious pork and beans that goes with it. Oops… I mean the cut up potatoes or hash browns.

Some suggested starter activities;

  • All kids love hot (out of the stove) cookies.
  • A basic hamburger.
  • Mac & Cheese. Kids love this! (Teach them how to cook hamburger and mix it in for a basic kid goulash.)
  • Spaghetti
  • Hot dogs, especially over a camp fire.
  • Dumplings – A Chinese family favorite.
  • Grilled cheese sandwich.
  • A basic salad.

Use a Bow and Arrow

Japanese archery
My children have an interest in archery. Unfortunately, compound bows are a rare thing in China. The best chance that they can learn to shoot a bow and arrow are either by using “conventional” basic bows, “traditional” log bows, or by studying Japanese-style archery. The Japanese style is a beautiful art form that requires elements of concentration and attention to detail. Here we have the four stages of a draw illustrated. Note the difference between an American draw.

You know, kids all over the world are interested in bows and arrows. You know; archery. Instead of getting them a “safe” nerf version, give them the real thing. Expose them to real archery. If you have the means, teach them and if you cannot, hire an expert to show them the ropes.

If I were still in the states, my kids would be using compound bows and tromping in the woods every season. Ah, but that is not my reality at this time. I have to improvise.

Here in China, there are many opportunities to learn how to use a bow and arrow. Though they are actually mostly either the conventional design or a “traditional” Chinese long-bow design. However, there Japanese archery, also known as Kyūdō is available. Kyūdō is the Japanese martial art of archery. Experts in kyūdō are referred to as kyūdōka (弓道家).

There is a stress on form and function. As in Golf, the way to use your tools greatly affects your ability to hit your target. By attending these archery classes, the student can perfect and concentrate in the discipline of archery. That is a wondrous thing.

Hunting in a tree stand.
Hunting in a fine tree stand. Americans often do not appreciate what they have. They take it for granted. They shouldn’t some of the things that I really, really miss about the States are the things that I took for granted. The things that I would think would last forever. The things that I would never live without. Hunting in a tree stand is one of those things.

Later on, when we go to the states we will pick out a nice compound bow, maybe a “Bear Archery Cruzer”, or a “Diamond Archery’s Infinite Edge”. Something that will not break the bank, but will be able to provide an adjustable draw for first-timers. Trust me, a 70 pound draw is too much for children who are not used to it.

Then it’s up into the tree stand. God, I get goose-bumps just thinking about it.

Japanese archery showing a draw.
Japanese style archery is different than American style archery. However, it is a great opportunity to learn precision and discipline. Here in China, I like to think that it is the best way to learn how to use a bow and arrow.

Hammer a Nail

Why? It seems to plain and so mundane.

Yet, hammering a nail is a basic life skill that every person should master. The problem is that many parents do not let their kids attempt this task. They are too fearful of them smashing their fingers. Yes, little children are uncoordinated, but the only way they’ll ever become coordinated is if they gain hands-on experience in using tools.

The wuss-generation of super protection of children has created a nation of morons.

Hammer and nails.
Don’t be afraid, once the child smashes his finger the first time, he / she will be very careful not to do it again. That is how we learn. That is how we obtain coordination. Be there to get them started, and then go away and let them go at it. Be in ear shot, however. For eventually they hill feel some kind of pain. Though it might not be a smashed finger. It might be s splinter or two. Yikes!

Indeed, many cannot use tape measures or even hammer a nail.  Home Depot is in full-on panic mode after realizing that an entire generation of Americans have absolutely no clue how to use their products.  As the Wall Street Journal points out, the company has been forced to spend millions to create video tutorials and host in-store classes on how to do everything from using a tape measure to mopping a floor and hammering a nail. Seriously, that is pure evidence of a society in decline. Don’t allow your children join these ranks. Get them started with tools.

Don’t buy one of those plastic toy construction sets.  Just obtain a tiny (child sized) hammer. Start letting your 3-year-old practice hammering nails with a ball peen hammer. They’re lighter than the traditional claw variety and thus easier to handle. As your child’s dexterity and strength improve, upgrade him to a full-sized claw hammer, lay out a 2×4 and a box of nails, and let him go to town. Talk about cheap entertainment.

Build a Sand Castle

When I was a young boy, we used to have regular trips out to the beach.  At that time, we were living in Bridgeport, CT and a trip to the beach was only a mere ten minute drive in the family sedan. There, we could play, swim and collect seashells. I remember once, when walking along the beach, I saw a father and his daughter build this most remarkable sand castle.  It was not only “perfect”, but had little miniature statues all over the it.  The father took wet sand and dripped them down forming these little artistic shapes.  It was magnificent.

They left, and I stood by and admired the handiwork.  Then, I ran back to my sister and her “best friend” who were playing nearby.  I told them about the great sand castle, and they came with me to look at it.  There, all three of us seven to eight year olds, stood around the castle.  It was so amazing and beautiful.  Then, as if on cue, both my sister and her friend kicked in and stomped the castle into oblivion.

Meanwhile, I just stood there in shock. How and why would they do such a thing?  It was something that I had to grapple with through most of my youth.  I just could not understand the behaviors of my fellow classmates.  Sigh.

Sand castle
Here’s a nice art deco style sand castle. With sand as the cheap and free medium, use time to build and make whatever your heart desires. Most people start with a large moat and go from there. Other’s plan it out. Still others mix cheap toys and fun together to create a complex play environment. What ever strikes your fancy, do it.

Take your children to the beach. Let them have fun, explore and exercise.  Let them create, play and build.  Remember, “play” is the “work” of children.  It is how they learn.  If you want your child to learn, then do it in the framework of play.

Play With Fireworks

“Calls to eight newspapers in North Carolina found none that would take anyone under the age of 18 to deliver papers. 

A police chief in New Albany, Ohio, went on record saying kids shouldn’t be outside on their own till age 16, “the threshold where you see children getting a little bit more freedom.” 

A study in Britain found that while just under half of all 16- to 17-year-olds had jobs as recently as 1992, today that number is 20 percent.

The responsibility expected of kids not so long ago has become almost inconceivable. 

Published in 1979, the book Your 6-Year-old: Loving and Defiant includes a simple checklist for what a child entering first grade should be able to do: Can he draw and color and stay within the lines of the design being colored? Can he ride a small two-wheeled bicycle without helper wheels? Can he travel alone in the neighborhood (four to eight blocks) to a store, school, playground, or friend’s home?

Hang on. Walk to the store at 6—alone?

It’s tempting to blame “helicopter parents” for today’s less resilient kids. But when all the first-graders are walking themselves to school, it’s easy to add yours to the mix. When your child is the only one, it’s harder. And that’s where we are today. Norms have dramatically changed. 

The kind of freedom that seemed unremarkable a generation ago has become taboo, and in some cases even illegal.”

-The Fragile Generation

Everyone plays with fireworks in China.  It’s part of the culture, and Chinese New Year is a 24-7 non-stop explosion of fire and smoke.  Yet, from what I hear, it’s use is limited in the United States.  What? Is the United States run by a cadre of pussies or what?

Playing with fireworks teaches your kids how to responsibly handle fire and to have a healthy respect for exploding objects. Unfortunately, thanks to stringent fireworks laws and parents freaked out from viral stories of children losing eyeballs while lighting Roman candles, many kids today have never experienced the pure excitement and joy of igniting a fuse and waiting for the impending explosion.

Introduce your 3-5 year olds to the world of fireworks with “pop-pops” — those little paper-wrapped tadpole-like things you throw on the ground. They’re safe and the kids can have fun with them without injuring themselves or anybody else. You can also get them acquainted with sparklers. These preparatory “fireworks” offer a chance for children to learn general principles of safety: not to throw lit objects at others, touch people with a hot sparkler, handle a dud, etc.

When your kids hit age 6, you can start letting them light innocuous fireworks like snakes and smoke bombs. These don’t explode and will teach your kids how to light a fuse safely and to be aware of others as they use firecrackers.

By age 9 or 10, your kid should be ready to fire off pretty much anything you can find at a fireworks stand. You should continue to supervise their pyrotechnics until they’re teens, though.

The only caution that I would advise is not to make the fireworks yourself. It is DANGEROUS. I once worked with someone who's son was missing a hand precisely because the home-made firecracker in his hand went off. Be careful.

Conclusions

It is important that parents ACT like parent and not prison guards, or hyper-protective insecure single mothers. After all, it was that behavior that created Adolph Hitler…

Today, I have real concerns that the nation of millennials in the Untied States are exactly that. Improperly educated, with a serious retardation in basic and fundamental life skills. What ever, and when ever possible I am doing my best to prevent that from happening.

The job of a parent is to expose the child to dangerous situations in graduated steps. In such a way they learn the effects of consequences, and other important life lessons. Here are just some of my thoughts on this matter. If your child wants to gather a committee to figure out what to do, then they will never make it in the real world. They are already programmed to be a serf, a worker for others who own and run the factories and companies that your child will be programmed to live within.

Group meeting.
When there is an important announcement at your company, does it look something a little like this? Well, if it does, then like it or not, you are in a corporate bubble. If you are not careful, you will have difficulty leaving it. Be careful.

Let’s hope that it’s not too late.

Take Aways

  • Parent has an important role in teaching their children.
  • This role cannot be off-loaded to surrogates, whether a school, a television show, or a coach.
  • The role requires participation with the child.
  • The role requires a staged implementation of experiences in a controlled environment that permits learning of dangers and problem solving and avoidance.
  • These are just some of my ideas implemented in my own family.

FAQ

Q: Isn’t your ideas going to put the children into danger?
A: I do not advocate putting anyone in danger. What I suggest is that the job of a parent is to introduce the child to potentially dangerous situations in a graduated way. When I was in training to be a Naval Aviator, they taught us how to perform a dead man’s float, swim in different techniques, and how to handle ourselves. Once we mastered those basics, we were then introduced to more complex events like how to untangle ourselves from a parachute that is dragging you through the water, and how to egress from a sunken helicopter at night. You must learn in stages.

Q: Why not let the school take on this responsibility?
A: After seeing what the public schools are teaching today, I am loathe to subject my child to anything resembling an American public school. It is your responsibility as a parent to teach your children. Your child’s success in life will be heavily influenced by how to prepare them for it.

Q: Isn’t your children going to public schools?
A: Well, yes, they are. However, I am here in China. They go to Chinese public schools and learn English and American history and civics at home. We have a very aggressive teaching schedule for them, and my Chinese wife is relentless in making sure that they are learning to the best of their ability. It is what is appropriate for us today. Needless to say, if we were in the United States, we would do something quite different.

Q: Do you have other ideas on how to raise children?
A: Oh my yes. However, Google SEO requirements, as well as my own limitations has necessitated the creation of this post as shown.

Q: Why do you talk so much about China? Why are you so down on America?
A: I am in China out of necessity. That being said, I happen to love the United States. In fact, I love what it was and what it was intended to be.

Today, I am pretty discouraged with how the government is, and how the educational system is. I am pretty jaded.

Today there is a battle between those who want America to RETURN to what it was intended to be, and those who want to continue the remake; to turn it into a globalist ruled oligarchy, with Americans acting as dumbed down serf-cattle. Until it is sorted out, I will stay right where I am, thank you.

American.
I am a traditional American. I like big cars, big boobed women, big plates of bacon, big wide skies, and big pitches of ice cold beer. I also like big caliber handguns, big racks on deer, and big trucks. I enjoy a big bonfire with my friends, and we like to watch the big game together.

This is Part 1 of a Two Part Post

This is part one of a two part post. You can go to the other post HERE. This post is rather long. I have exceeded the “industry norm” (Google SEO advisement) by a significant word count. As is my prerogative. You can visit the beginning of this post HERE.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 23AUG18.
  2. SEO review 23AUG18.
  3. Published 24AUG18.

Allow your Children to Play and Grow (Part 1)

This little post was inspired by a little article titled “Doctor’s Orders; Let children just play” posted in the hot dog-days of summer, August 2018.

The article reinforces a notion that I have that “play is the work of children”. It is how they learn to become an adult. It doesn’t matter if you are a dog, a cat, an elephant, or a monkey, all animals learn from playing.

However, it is more than that, play is individualized free-roaming periods of children playing without supervision. They need to learn to be autonomous. They need to be able to use trial and error. They need to explore the idea of actions have consequences. When a child does not have this environment, they are often retarded in some fundamental areas.

The boy is a natural spectator; he watches parades, fires, fights, football games, automobiles and planes with equal fervor. However, he will not watch a clock.

A boy is a piece of skin stretched over an appetite. However, he eats only when he’s awake.

Boys imitate their Dads in spite of all the efforts to teach them good manners.

Boy’s are very durable.

A boy, if not washed too often and if not kept in a cool quiet place after each accident , will survive broken bones, hornet’s nests, swimming holes and five helpings of pie. Boys love to trade things. They’ll trade fishhooks, marbles, broken knives and snakes for anything that is priceless or worthless.

-Herbert Hoover

Introduction

In the United States today, I see a matriarchal tide that has emasculated men, and have pampered children to a point where they grow up spoiled without discipline. It does not matter if the child is a boy, or a girl, or considers themselves something in between. That is something that is not desirable for the children, families, and society as whole. Children are young and they need to learn basic rules to fit into society. After all, a puppy that is not litter trained, will deposit feces all over the house. A horse that is not “broken” will never let you ride it.

Parental Duty

A parent has a duty to teach their children and not outsource that responsibility to others. Whether it is a babysitter, a community government, or a church, a parent must provide adaptive skills and rules of behavior to their children. Otherwise, the child will become a “misfit”. They will not be able to fit into society.

Yet, a worrisome as this can be, too much supervision is just as dangerous. Too much protection is equally bad. When parents are overly protective of their children, they essentially outsource all of their offspring’s risk management to themselves. Part of growing is learning to judge risk behaviors.

Is that river to wide to swim across? Is the ice too thin to walk on? Is that tree too high to climb? Can I jump off the third story into a kiddy pool of water below?

Children need to be able to make these decisions on their own without reliance on others. Otherwise, the operating assumption is that mom and dad will always be around to keep them from harm. They will grow up expecting others to make those fundamental decisions for them.  They will believe that society and the government, can best decide and tell them how to live.

Children need to be Self Reliant

Rather than making kids dependent on you to keep them safe, prepare them to face and manage risks themselves. This doesn’t mean totally shoving them into things without a safety net. Like how my old school mates learned how to swim – their father simply threw them into the pool. No. I don’t believe in that. Rather, they need a set a staged instructions.

In fact, this system was promoted by Gever Tulley.

Gever Tulley is an American writer, speaker, educator, entrepreneur, and computer scientist. He is the founder of the Brightworks School, Tinkering School, the non-profit Institute for Applied Tinkering, and educational kit maker Tinkering Labs. 

His more recent work centers around the concept of students learning through building projects. He has delivered multiple TED talks on his work, published the book 50 Dangerous Things (You Should Let Your Children Do), and has contributed articles for many online media outlets.

Gever refers to this system as a “scaffolding” of “planning, practicing by steps, and taking reasonable precautions.” Obviously, the robustness of this scaffolding should be adjusted to your children’s age and level of maturity. You certainly do not want a toddler who can barely stand up trying to cross a city street. As they grow, you (as the parent) can then progressively withdraw the support “scaffolding”.  In this way, they can gain confidence and competence and become able to fend for themselves.

The great Mr. Rogers stated that “play was the work of children”. He was so correct about that. That is how youth learns. It is through play. Little girls learn how to raise babies through play. They play with dolls, they feed the dolls, they play “house”, and they hold “tea parties”. Little boys learn how to work together in group sports. They learn how to build cabins, tree houses, and “forts”. They tear things apart and put things together. Some girls like to do “boy activities”. Some boys like to do “girl activities”. That’s all both ok too.

The point is that play is how children learn.

The term “free play” is permitting children to learn under minimum supervision. Not only is there no supervision, but that the child knows that they are “on their own”. They know and realize that they can do what they feel like doing, but that if something goes wrong, they will be on their own. It is an adventure in risk…

“Free play has little in common with the “play” we give children today. In organized activities, adults run the show. It’s only when the grown-ups aren’t around that the kids get to take over. Play is training for adulthood.”

-The Fragile Generation

You have to teach the children to be independent.

That is not going to happen with you sitting off to the side or within earshot. You need to teach them how to judge risks, and then the decision process on how to take them. I personally believe that the best way to do this is to take these little steps with them together, first.  Then, over time, gradually let them take the risks without you being nearby.

Staged Risks

The keys to engaging in this process in a way that will not only benefit your children, but allay your own anxiety. After all, if you don’t teach your children well, you will get sick over the huge anxiety that you will need to endure. The solution is to introduce risk in graduated phases.

It’s a basic and simple process. The first step in allowing your kids to engage in a “risky” activity is to identify what exactly the risks are. For instance if you fall off of the first step in a ladder, the fall isn’t so bad. If you fall off the fourth step it is worse. They will not want to fall off anything higher. They will not WANT to.  They have learned that risks have consequences.

That’s not going to happen, if you don’t allow your child to get on the ladder. It’s not going to happen when you are there to catch them. They need to experience the consequences. It needs to be visceral.

Once you’ve identified the risks of an activity, you can figure out how to mitigate them. It should be natural for most children.  You fall down from skating on the ice; you will feel bruised and maybe have some torn skin. Let it happen!

My children do not wear arm and knee pads when they go ice skating (though, neither do the other Chinese children either). Let them fall down. Let them learn what happens and the consequences of it.

Falling down is an important part of growing up. Do not coddle and deprive. They must experience the benefits and risks together.

History

Know your history.

Up through the early 20th century, children, even very young ones, worked. They got up early in the morning and did their chores.  They washed up and trudged off to work. Often they worked 12 hours a day in the mines and the factories. They hawked newspapers on grimy street corners, or like my father, shined shoes in front of businesses downtown.

The reader should not misunderstand. There’s nothing really romantic about such child labor. They were not learning. They were not engaged in play. They were doing what they needed to do to survive. They did what they had to do. It was dangerous.

It was dangerous, and yet they survived.

Imagine that!

Consider the youth of the past. When he was seventeen, Jack London (remember him? He wrote the book “The Call of the Wild”.) Signed on to sail with a gaff-rigged schooner bound for seal hunting in the icy Bering Sea. I dare say that if a child did that today, the parents would be locked up in jail. Imagine that! Not even old enough to shave. He walks down to a port, talks to the ship’s mate and gets a job bound for icy North! What balls! Yet those types of things are what build character and makes a parent proud.

Gaff Rigged schooner
Jack London, with his belongings in a satchel walked to the bay and got a job on a gaff-rigged schooner bound for points unknown. He shook hands with the master and signed on. He just did it. What moxie! That is what self-reliance is all about.

This was not someone who grew up around boats. This was not someone who’s father was a fisherman, and who’s classmates all knew how to sail. No. Not in the least. This young man knew absolutely nothing. He knew positively zero. Yet, he knew what he wanted to do. So one day, he packed his bags and left and did it.

It sure beats getting a trophy for coming in 10th place in a sack race.

When he was thirteen, Andrew Jackson (Remember him? He was a President, don’t you know?) served as a courier for American militias fighting in the Revolutionary War. He was thirteen years old. Yet here he was going back and forth between battles and regional headquarters. He carried messages, and if he was ever caught, he would have been tortured and killed. Yet, he did so. At the tender age of thirteen.

Aim small, Miss small.
Here’s a scene from the movie “The patriot” that stunned many of the liberals in the audiences that watched it. They were surprised that small boys would be able to shoot and handle firearms. People, this is a natural rite of passage for young men. It is only recently that r-survivalist strategy has been adopted by the United States government. Boys are not girls. Treat them as the genetically programed humans that they are. Aim small, miss small.

Do you allow your thirteen year old to ride a bicycle unsupervised?

When he was twelve, Louis Zamperini left home to spend the summer living on an Indian reservation and running around in the mountains.  He lived in a wood cabin with a friend the same age and killed his own dinner each night with a rifle.

Louis Silvie "Louie" Zamperini (January 26, 1917 – July 2, 2014) was a US prisoner of war survivor in World War II, a Christian evangelist and an Olympic distance runner. 

Zamperini took up running in high school and qualified for the US in the 5000m race for the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He finished 8th in the event. 

In 1941 he was commissioned into the United States Army Air Forces as a Lieutenant. He served as a bombardier in B-24 Liberators in the Pacific. On a search and rescue mission, mechanical difficulties forced Zamperini's plane to crash in the ocean. 

Survive a plane crash
Louis Zamperini crashed in the South Pacific. he survived, but was captured by brutal Japanese forces. He survived the crash, and then he survived his imprisonment. He would have never been able to do so, were he coddled as a child and told not to take risks.

After drifting at sea for 46–47 days (island spotted on the 46th, and arrived on 47th) he landed on the Japanese occupied Marshall Islands and was captured. He was taken to a prison camp in Japan where he was tortured. 

Following the war he initially struggled to overcome his ordeal. Later he became a Christian Evangelist with a strong belief in forgiveness. Zamperini is the subject of two biographical films, the 2014 Unbroken and the 2015 Captured by Grace.

Can your twelve year old child do the same? Do you dare let them live alone in a cabin in the woods? Do you dare let them have and use a gun? Do they know how to survive in the wilds?

If these kids can sail the oceans, serve on the war-front, and live by themselves, then our kids can ride their bikes to school. Maybe, you the reader, disagree with me. Maybe you think that it is just fine to raise your children as “pussies”. After all, I have heard the arguments; it is the new progressive reality. The society has changed, and I am but an old dinosaur. Never the less…

Unfortunately, the landscapes of play and exercise for children have been both literally and metaphorically flattened, if they exist at all in the United States. As many as 40% of schools have either eliminated one or all of their recess periods, not simply to gain more classroom and testing time, but also because of liability concerns. For the same reason, climbing ropes and dodge ball games have been removed from gym class. Can the reader believe this? It’s true! The risk of someone getting hurt is too high; the risk of physical ineptitude doesn’t rate, even though it’s correlated with the risk of obesity.

To prevent my children from turning into emasculated serfs being harvested by the American elite, let me present some things that I permit my children to do…

Take a Train

I really don’t know why I personally think this is a big deal.  Yet, it is.  Every single child that I know, get really excited when they are told that they are going to take the train. There is something far different and exciting about a train.  Yes, I am aware about the excitement in taking an airplane ride for the first time.  Yet, a train is something more than that.  A train ride is special.

Locomotive
Look at this beauty. Observe the lines, the enormity of the great complex mechanical monster. Look at how small the workers look around it. Look at the environment. Absorb what it must have been like, the smells, the muggy air, and the hustle and bustle of the people on the platform in the early morning air.

From the point of view of a child, a train gives you the full (end) experience of travel. They can see what it is like. You buy a ticket, you ride in a seat, and you arrive in your destination. It is easy to understand. It is easy to conceptualize.

That isn’t so clear to a child when they fly. To a child, they have to wait in huge lines, often hours long, to pass through TSA. They have to sit on board, which at least in America is becoming more akin to herding cattle than it is to taking a trip.

Keep an eye on perspective. My father took a train to attend my nieces wedding in New York City. It had been nearly thirty years since he taken a train. His opinion? It was marvelous. They had wide and spacious seats. Plenty of legroom. They could read, play cards, and just nap. He loved it. His wife, enjoyed knitting and listening to the radio. It’s a different way of traveling.

If you, my dear reader, do not understand what I am discussing here then you obviously haven’t rode in a train lately.

Make a Fire

In China you can do just about anything, but finding a place in the woods to build a campfire is not all that easy.  However, it can be done.  Why is this important?  Because building a making a fire is a fundamental requirement of all children since the age of written history.

Young girls learned how to keep the hearths burning.  Not only to keep the household warm, but also to make sure that the food was prepared.

Young boys learned how to survive outside, far away from their home, and that included providing warmth and nourishment through cooking game that they caught.

In America, these are no longer considered important.  As there just isn’t any such thing as gender. Alternatively, societal roles, or the need to live “off the grid” and away from society. The all-knowing American police state will take care of you, don’t you know…

I strongly disagree with the progressive direction of the Obama Presidential mandates. While every other child is being groomed for slavery (or at least serfdom), my children will have the necessary skills to survive away from the American Progressive madness.

For me, I let them play with matches and light candles when they’re really young. Indeed they are pre-school age. This can be done in your house. Buy a set of candles. It might set you back a whole $1. Then, let them practice lighting it. Do it until they are bored. Then try it again and again. Soon, they will tire of it, and not want to play with fire any more.

When you ask them, they will say “Awww, not again!”.

They’ll learn quite a bit. They will learn that fire indeed burns and it hurts. However, with a flame so small, it won’t hurt too much if it glances their skin. When they get to a little older, let them build a fire all by themselves (still with your supervision, of course). A campfire is the best, but if you are in an urban environment, teach them by making candle experiments.

Candle Experimentation

You take an old can; put corrugated cardboard inside so that the spaces (holes) in the can face up.  Pack the cardboard in. I like to wrap them in a circular shape. Line the inner side (of the tin) and then add pieces until there just isn’t any room left. Then melt wax (very cheap) on a stove and pour it in the holes in the cardboard.

Let your child make this candle device. Then allow them to experiment with wax, with cardboard, with fire, with other discarded tins. The cost will be minimal, but if you allow them to do it in the safety of your supervision, it will be beneficial to them.

DIY wax candle kit
You can buy a DIY candle kit to start off with. You can get cardboard everywhere. You have scissors, and matches. Then all you need an open and airy place that is safe and secure. Then let the kids go to town.

Teach them by showing them. Then allow them to make their own.  For a campfire, gather the wood. Cut the branches. Build up tinder. Get it started burning. Children can learn this. Teach them at an early age.

Campfires

Campfires are great, and I just cannot imagine a childhood without one.

Campfire
Fire is a fundamental part of every human child’s life. We should teach and allow the child to explore this most important of elements. We need to take the time out of our day to help them to explore and learn. Let them smell the burning, hear the crackling embers, and enjoy the smoke and embers as they float upwards into the heavens.

Teach your children about how to make a fire. You gather wood. You gather tinder. You clean out a fire pit, and you surround it with rocks. You select the rocks carefully, so no “river rocks” are used. Then you arrange the wood, and start it by tinder. They can participate and help.  In no time, they will be starting the fire on their own.

Let them add sticks and wood to the fire. Let them learn how to make the fire hot, and see the benefits of the hot embers.

It need not only be about making the fire.  It can include such activities as cooking cut-up potatoes in aluminum-foil in the embers. (Easy to make and delicious.  Cut up a potato (after washing it), and an onion. Add salt and pepper and a pad of butter.  Wrap the entire thing in aluminum foil and place it in the embers and let it cook a spell.  It is delicious.)

campfire embers
One of my fondest memories is roasting hotdogs over a evening fire. We did this often as a child. This included such events as cub-scouts, school outings, and trips with my parents. Childhood needs to include campfires as a fundamental element of growing up.

It can include roasting marshmallows on a stick, or hotdogs until they are black and crunchy (the best kind).  My first roasted marshmallow occurred when I was six. It was before first grade. It can be earlier than that, but make sure that you supervise the youngster, as they do need training. Otherwise, they can burn their mouth, or fall into the fire. Yikes!

Fires are a great venue for bonding. It can include talking and telling stories, especially family lore, or hopes and dreams of the children.  You can be a great parent or uncle in these events. Don’t let them pass away. Don’t let them fade into obscurity simply because there is a new app in your cellphone.

By the way. I strongly urge all campfires to be a cellphone free zone.

make coffee on a campfire
Let your children see how easy it is to make tea or coffee on the campfire. Show them how it is done. You can also open up a can of pork and beans and teach them how to cook it on a fire in the embers (opened up) of course. Let them feel some independence, and let them do all the work. This is their experience, don’t hog it all up.

Let them participate in stories, or just allow them to stare into the burning embers and daydream. Let your child know the differences between wet wood, and dry wood.  Let them understand the differences between a pine and a hard wood.  Let them see the difference in making tinder, and how coal can make a fire much hotter. Let them learn what happens to a hotdog on a stick when you cook it deep down inside the hot embers of a fire, and what happens when you don’t.  Let them learn through experience.

I personally find it absolutely laughable that many American parents are so fearful that they will not allow their children to play with fire.  Certainly, no one wants the children to burn up a house or set a field on fire.  Yet, the knowledge of what a fire is, and how it can be controlled is an important learning exercise for children.

“If a 10-year-old lit a fire at an American playground, someone would call the police and the kid would be taken for counseling. At “the Land”, spontaneous fires are a frequent occurrence. The park is staffed by professionally trained “playworkers,” who keep a close eye on the kids but don’t intervene all that much. Claire Griffiths, the manager of the Land, describes her job as “loitering with intent.”

-The Land. The Land is an “adventure playground,” though it sounds a little too much like a amusement park. 

In the U.K., such playgrounds arose and became popular in the 1940s, as a result of the efforts of Lady Marjory Allen of Hurtwood, a landscape architect and children’s advocate. 

Allen was disappointed by what she described in a documentary as “asphalt square” playgrounds with “a few pieces of mechanical equipment.” She wanted to design playgrounds with loose parts that kids could move around and manipulate, to create their own makeshift structures. 

But more important, she wanted to encourage a “free and permissive atmosphere” with as little adult supervision as possible. The idea was that kids should face what to them seem like “really dangerous risks” and then conquer them alone. That, she said, is what builds self-confidence and courage.

Although the play-workers almost never stop the kids from what they’re doing, before the playground had even opened they’d filled binders with “risk benefits assessments” for nearly every activity. (In the two years since it opened, no one has been injured outside of the occasional scraped knee.)

Here’s the list of benefits for fire:

“It can be a social experience to sit around with friends, make friends, to sing songs to dance around, to stare at, it can be a co-operative experience where everyone has jobs. It can be something to experiment with, to take risks, to test its properties, its heat, its power, to re-live our evolutionary past.”

The risks?

“Burns from fire or fire pit” and “children accidentally burning each other with flaming cardboard or wood.” In this case, the benefits win, because a playworker is always nearby, watching for impending accidents but otherwise letting the children figure out lessons about fire on their own.”

-The Overprotected Kid

There is something primeval about fire, the smell of burning wood, and the weight of a metal lighter in your hand. (Disposable lighters are like paper cups of coffee; discardable and plain. To get the “full” experience, do it right.)

Teach them how to make a fire from tinder, and scraps.

Lighter
I personally believe that every father should buy their son a nice traditional lighter. make it memorable and let the son choose the style that best fit’s their personality. This is an important part of growing up.

Show them how to make a fire pit, chop wood, and select the best wood.  Let them know the difference between green-wood, soft-wood, and hard wood. Let them poke the fire and watch the sparks fly. Let them blow on the fire and watch the embers glow and grow.

Alternatives

One of the more memorable events in my life took place during my college years. I was out riding in the “boondocks” with a friend of mine (Sid Custer) in his pickup truck. We were having a great time, and we stopped in the middle of the dirt road for a smoke (not a cigarette) and pee. Neither of us had a lighter. So my friend siphoned some gas out of the tank, put it on a rag he scrounged out of the glove box, and used his pocketknife to create sparks, which quickly set the rag on fire.  We lit up, and continued our merry way. Yes. Men, need to be able to adapt to survive. They need to know, that in a pinch, they can “make do” and adapt.

I never forgot that event.

Later on during other stages of my life, I saw interesting improvisations that enabled people the ability to light up cigarettes. Here are some additional ways to start a fire.  I would suggest that the reader also make a point to their children that fire can be made easily and is not something to fear.

Teach them how to create fires on demand. Teach them how to control fires, and what to do, when a fire gets out of control.

  • Gum Wrapper Fire. This is a very easy method, and commonly used in prison. You take a pack of chewing gum. You remove the silver foil. Then you get a battery (any working battery, but I’ve seen type AA or AAA used effectively), and put the foil so that it touches both ends. Now the fire might start at any point along the foil, so you need to tear away some of the foil to make a narrow gap. That will focus the fire to start there. Make sure you have some tinder ready, as the fire will be short lived. It might last two to three seconds, tops.
  • Ramen Noodle Stove. Take a pack of Ramen noodles. (Remove it from the plastic wrapping.) Pour gasoline, kerosene or any other flammable liquid on the uncooked noodles. Put it on a brick, a rock or other safe surface. Then light carefully (making sure that no gasoline is on anyone’s hands or splashed on the ground nearby). It will act like a “fire starter log”. As such, it will burn for a good spell. Maybe 20 minutes to a half an hour. It makes a great kindling or fire starter, but is also a very good exercise to expose your children to.

All of the suggestions that I have provided here come with a level of danger.  There should be no doubt about that.  However, the point is that danger should be a friend and as the child grows, they can become more familiar with danger and best be able to tame it. You need to teach your children how to confront life, and not shy away from it in fear.

To quote an age-old Peruvian saying; “A life lived in fear is a life not worth living”.

Also quoted in the movie “Strictly Ballroom” (1992). Strictly Ballroom is a 1992 Australian romantic comedy film directed and co-written by Baz Luhrmann. If the reader is confused about why this quote is located here in this manuscript, and what it means in regards to raising children and exposing them to new ideas and skills, then you should watch the movie “Strictly Ballroom”.

Sail a boat

"There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. 

Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

- Spoken by Ratty to Mole in Wind in the Willows a children's book by Kenneth Grahame (1859-1932).

This might be a surprise to some readers. It need not be.

gaff rigged cutter
This is a nice photo of a gaff-rigged cutter. A cutter is a boat with a single mast. A gaff-rigged boat is one that has the mast broken into two sections; a top and a bottom. The top section has a smaller sail known as a top-sail. It is useful to get the smallest and tiniest breezes of wind on calm days.

Sailing introduces your child to art, beauty, nature, and teamwork.  You will find them wanting to help furl the sails.  You will find them steer the boat with pride.  You will watch with pride as they point out when the sails are luffing. There is something very freeing about sailing.  You glide along the water, it is almost like flying.  It is soft, quiet and peaceful.

Sails on larger vessels are typically left in place, while it is easier to remove sails from the rigs of smaller vessels. Furling a sail simply means to put the thing away after use. Sails are commonly folded and covered, or rolled into a tubular shape by an onboard mechanism.

In sailing, luffing refers to when a sailing vessel is steered far enough toward the direction of the wind ("windward"), or the sheet controlling a sail is eased so far past optimal trim, that airflow over the surfaces of the sail is disrupted and the sail begins to "flap" or "luff" (the luff of the sail is usually where this first becomes evident). This is not always done in error; for example, the sails will luff when the bow of the boat passes through the direction of the wind as the sailboat is tacked.

A sailboat can also be "luffed" slightly without completely de-powering the sails. Often this occurs on the point of sail known as close hauled, this is sometimes referred to as pinching or "feathering" and is sometimes done deliberately in order to make a more direct course toward an upwind destination (see: "beating to windward"), or to "de-power" a sail on a windy day to maintain control of the sailboat. "Luffing" can also be used to slow or stop a sailboat in a controlled manner. To offset luffing at the top of the sail one should move the sail "lead" forward until the point where the "telltales" break evenly.

In comparison, a household with young children is a noisy and clamorous affair.  There is always noise and contention.  Young children cry and demand.  Sugar and other children exacerbate this situation. However, on the ocean (or in a bay), there is none of this.  The children will calm down and start to fit into the routine and the rhythm of the boat.  Oh, they will get the “sea legs” soon enough.

“The sea hates a coward.”
-  Eugene O’Neill

If the parent is so inclined, they can help the child with sailing lessons.  In each and every case, the parent should make sure that the child knows the basics of swimming (not included in this list, as it is a MAJOR fundamental requirement for all of my children.  They learn how to swim early on.). When in the boat, all children wear life preservers, and all of them must know how to “turn a boat around” to rescue a person during a “man overboard” drill. Try it.  Your children would love it!

gaff-rigged schooner
Here we see a gaff-rigged schooner overtaking a cutter. A schooner is a vessel with two masts. The mast at the stern of the ship is the tallest. Therefore, the vessel has the largest sail area towards the stern of the ship.

Others have written about the beauty of sailing.  Consider Christopher Cross for example.

For those readers who have never sailed, I would seriously suggest that you take the opportunity to do so.  I am not talking about a little puddle boat, but a large sailing vessel with a decent beam and some real size.  It is achievable, as many boat owners offer rides in their sailboats for a very reasonable price as a way to make extra money.

For those of you who have, let me suggest that you invest in a simple boat rather than a new cellphone. In my household, tools and clothing that helps the children learn hold far greater value than what everyone else is doing. You, dear reader, should realize that your High School days are over. Those who have succeeded in life, we NOT the ones who were average and “went with the pack”. Do not allow that temptation to mold your child’s thought process.

Here’s some great links for the convinced and interested reader;

The joy of sailing
The joy of sailing on the Britannia. Everyone should have the opportunity to sail. Everyone should be able to enjoy their life on the water, with friends and companionship.

“There is a special moment in sailing after clearing a harbor and setting the sails, when you turn off the engine and feel the boat lean into the wind and silently pick up speed. In that single quiet moment, all the joys of sailing come to me in a rush: freedom from the work-a-day life ashore, the thrill of travel, the challenge of pitting myself against the forces of the sea.”

- Stephan G. Regulinski

Ride Your Bike Off a Ramp

This was something that I did when I was a kid, and something that horrified my mother. Never the less, I don’t know of anyone who ever died from it.

Bike ramp
A forest bicycle ramp. Obviously a person using this ramp should have some practice and experience first. I have had many friends who would ride their dirt-bikes (motorcycles) in the abandoned strip mines and forests of Western Pennsylvania who had been in accidents, some of which required hospitalization.

It’s a thrill and a brush with danger that is still possible in this too-sterile world. Building and riding off ramps will teach your kids some basic physics and even some construction skills. Let them be kids, for goodness sakes. Don’t end up like that joke-of-a-President Obama who rides a bicycle with helmet and protective padding. Good God!

But…

But… Let’s not leave it at that.  Riding a bike through the woods can be a great adventure.  I certainly enjoyed it as a kid growing up.  Today, in China, bike ride-share has taken the nation by storm, but these bikes are all for urban transport from one location to another.

That is not what I am writing about.

Instead I suggest aggressive bike adventures in the woods.  If you are an American, there is no reason why you can’t explore the old trails and country railroad access trails.  There is no reason why you can’t ride the deserted industrial sites and explore the “off the beaten” path adventures just waiting for there for you.  There is no reason why you can’t ride along long disused railroad tracks, ride up and down abandoned urban complexes, or explore old sections of cracked highway.

“beginning in 2011, Swanson Primary School in New Zealand submitted itself to a university experiment and agreed to suspend all playground rules, allowing the kids to run, climb trees, slide down a muddy hill, jump off swings, and play in a “loose-parts pit” that was like a mini adventure playground.

The teachers feared chaos, but in fact what they got was less naughtiness and bullying—because the kids were too busy and engaged to want to cause trouble, the principal said.”

-The Overprotected Kid

Which brings up another subject…

Explore an Abandoned Building

Ouch!  This is a painful admission. Abandoned sites are dangerous.  You can get hurt or more.  When I was five I walked on a rusty nail protruding from a board in an abandoned house near our place. I had to get some painful shots as a result.

Never the less, I explored many an abandoned building, and went in and out of local railroad tunnels throughout the Western Pennsylvania hills where I lived. I cannot say that I would promote my children doing so, but if I found out about it, I wouldn’t lambast them either. The key is preparation. The children need to know about the dangers before hand, and then with the basic tools and knowledge just let them explore a bit.

When I was in second grade I learned that if you jumped off the second floor of an abandoned building that your feet and legs would hurt.  I learned that old pipes had water, but the water was thick and red with rust.  I learned that nails were everywhere and if you weren’t careful you could step on one and need to go to the doctor and get an injection.  I learned that broken glass is everywhere in an old building and you could get hurt if your touched it.

urban exploration
There is a sub-culture called urban-exploration where young adults enter into abandoned structures for the purpose of photography and exploration. They do not deface, steal or vandalize. I see nothing wrong with this as long as they are careful and not breaking any laws. I would encourage your children to explore…

A good parent allows the child to learn.

A good parent will rather have the child experience a bruise or two rather than live a life in fear, or worse yet, walk straight into danger unawares. As a child, I was petrified of spiders, snakes, frogs, and bees. Over the years, through close contact, I have learned not to be fearful of these things. Let your child learn early. Equip them with the knowledge to live and survive in an often-unfriendly world.

Climb a Rope

Climbing is one of the crucial physical skills everyone should develop. In America, from what I gather, climbing a rope is something that is frowned upon. As is climbing stairs higher than four feet. Have you looked at what constitutes a playground these days?

Now, if schools won’t provide the opportunity for a little physical exercise, then parents ought to. I am way too old to climb, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t make the effort to show how it is done.

In the old days (about 100 years ago), every community had a playground.  These playgrounds consisted of “monkey bars”, swing sets, seesaws, and other simple outdoor childhood entertainments. Typically, they had sand at the bottom of the metal (and often concrete) structures to mitigate any cuts, scrapes or broken bones.  There was sand at the bottom of the monkey bars, sand at the bottom and end of the slides, and sand below the swing sets.

Monkeybars
Children playing on “monkey bars”. Now, pretty much banned throughout the USA by Democrat well-meaning busybodies.

This continued into my parents’ generation and mine as well.  However, over time, the playground equipment became more standardized and mass-produced.  By the time the 1980’s rolled around, there were small community organizations forming to make playgrounds “safer”, “better” and (perhaps) more “educational”.  These “improvements” resulted in making the playgrounds nice and safe and very boring.

Often centering around a “community activist”. This “activist” often had no source of financial income except what manifested as a result of litigation. Litigation was the fruit that justified their activism. Many “well intentioned” changes were just creative ways for an individual or group of individuals to make money without physical labor. Don’t like my opinion? Prove me wrong.

1900 style American playground
Old American playground around 1900. Only the strong survived recess, obviously.

For instance, slides became lower. Instead of two stories high during my parents’ generation, and one story high (8 feet) in my generation, they became four feet high. “Monkey Bars” became smaller and lower to the ground. Even seesaws and swings became smaller, or eliminated all together. These “improvements” were welcomed by all the protective parents in their respective communities, or at least by the most vocal ones.

There was only one problem.

The structures were boring and did not challenge the children.  They were instead only suitable for mentally retarded and handicapped children, infants under the age of two, and overweight mothers. My gosh! Children should be challenged while in a safe environment, not coddled until they become an adult.

Bubble wrap was intended for the protection of inanimate objects. Not for human beings. Protective attire is necessary for close combat, hazardous work, and working with tools. It should not be necessary for transportation, play or dining.

My experience, in life, has been that once the father leaves (dies or simply abandons the household); the mother tends to clutch on to the child. She becomes hyper protective. If the child is unable to go out on their own, this terrible behavior (and self-serving behavior) by the mother completely messes up the child. They become “retarded” in normal development.

Those of you readers who have accomplished anything know exactly what I speak of.

I strongly believe that children, like cats and puppies, should be encouraged to climb, fight, sing, dance, and do other tasks that involve a moderate level of risk.  It is better to climb in a park near your house than on a mountain side hours from a nearby hospital.

Children are permitted to be safe while playing in Chinese playgrounds.
All Chinese playgrounds are supervised to allow the children to play in safety.

I was reminded of this by an event in a local park here in China. There were some children being taught repelling and climbing skills by a small group of instructors.  It turns out that many malls and store complexes in China have these huge climbing complexes of ropes, and netting that children are permitted to go “nuts” over.

They are very popular here, and are well maintained and monitored. They also offer excursions in local parks.  I strongly advise all parents to utilize this resource.

Chinese mall playground
Many Chinese malls have enormous gym arrangements that are supervised for safety. The children can climb and explore. They can climb rope ladders often going up seven or eight stories. They can rappel down ropes and swing from tires hanging by a rope.

These arrangements are a multi-colored mixtures of beams, ropes, hoops, ladders, bars, and free hanging containers. The maze towers upward. Often they are five or six stories high. There is one in GuoMao in the LouHu section of ShenZhen that towers seven stories high. There is one in the JiDa section of ZhuHai that goes all the way up to the fifth floor.

You can watch the children high up, five stories above, walking a balance beam. The only thing saving them is a tethered harness so if they lose their footing, they will not fall (and die). I have seen many a petrified first and second grader carefully exploring this maze of rope and bars. Too bad American parents are too fearful to expose their children to adventure.

Safety for children
In China, safety is always a concern. No one can enter these areas without supervision and protection. For this supervision, there is a small fee that needs to be paid.

The Chinese provide their children with a fine place to climb and explore.  Sure there is an element of risk, but there are trained instructors and safety harnesses and helmets provided. Compare that to a modern American playgound.  There isn’t any risk.  There isn’t any opportunity to explore and have adventure.  It is typically in one or two colors, it consists of a few fences and railings, and some stairs to climb up.  It is also very safe.  It is the opposite of what is available in China.

American playgrounds are perfect for handicapped children and imbeciles. American playgrounds are safe at the expense of play.
Safe American playground is suitable for the most incompetent children and retarded idiots that America can produce.

American playgrounds are designed for idiots. They are ridiculously safe. Soon, someone will complain (I am sure a SJW looking for a financial award) about rain, and demanding that they be shaded and protected from the weather. Maybe the metal components are too hard, and so they will now need to be completely padded, and let’s add a paid child monitor to the mix (paid for with your tax dollars).

Notice that there are no swings, seesaws, slides, monkey bars or merry go-rounds. Too dangerous the SWJ’s (busybodies) state.

Use a Pocket Knife

I never gave any consideration to the importance of a pocket knife. I was just something that I thought all boys had and used. That is, until I saw a Chinese boy looking at them in the (underground Zhuhai) mall…

Learning to use a pocket knife with grandfather
Learning to use a pocket knife with grandpa. What a great opportunity to bond with your children, or grand children, or even great-great grand children. You go out. You sit on the porch. You pick up a twig or stick, and you start carving away.

Shortly afterwards, I read an article titled “The Complete guide to Pocket Knives”. That served as my inspiration, and cracked up a wallet just a little bit…

There’s something manly about your first pocket knife.  It doesn’t have to have 100 blades and a corkscrew, but it should have at least two different blades and maybe a file.

My (second) pocket knife was a red Swiss Army knife with maybe five different blade combinations including a can opener, and rasp. It replaced my boy scout knife that I had, as well as just about every other boy in my school, one Christmas.  It was a gift from my father.

“One day last year, a citizen on a prairie path in the Chicago suburb of Elmhurst came upon a teen boy chopping wood. Not a body. Just some already-fallen branches. Nonetheless, the onlooker called the cops.

Officers interrogated the boy, who said he was trying to build a fort for himself and his friends. A local news site reports the police then “took the tools for safekeeping to be returned to the boy’s parents.”

-The Fragile Generation

What? A boy cannot cut up wood? What planet ware we on? And the Chicago police promptly relied him of the tools and escorted him to the safety of his parents? This is friggin’ unbelievable!

“Elsewhere in America, preschoolers at the Learning Collaborative in Charlotte, North Carolina, were thrilled to receive a set of gently used playground equipment. But the kids soon found out they would not be allowed to use it, because it was resting on grass, not wood chips. “It’s a safety issue,” explained a day care spokeswoman. Playing on grass is against local regulations.”

-The Fragile Generation

Playing on the grass is against safety regulations!

Let me repeat as an underline; “Playing on the grass is against safety regulations.”

This is America.

“And then there was the query that ran in Parents magazine a few years back: “Your child’s old enough to stay home briefly, and often does. But is it okay to leave her and her playmate home while you dash to the dry cleaner?”

Absolutely not, the magazine averred: “Take the kids with you, or save your errand for another time.” After all, “you want to make sure that no one’s feelings get too hurt if there’s a squabble.”

-The Fragile Generation

By all means, protect the child’s feelings…(!)

“The principle here is simple: This generation of kids must be protected like none other. They can’t use tools, they can’t play on grass, and they certainly can’t be expected to work through a spat with a friend.

And this, it could be argued, is why we have “safe spaces” on college campuses and millennial's missing adult milestones today. We told a generation of kids that they can never be too safe—and they believed us.“

-The Fragile Generation

Ah, it’s a generation of wusses. But, my children will not be part of it. They are taught how to [1] measure the unknown, [2] put aside fears, and [3] utilize tools to accomplish their goals.

Pocket knives are great tools, and all children, boys and girls should learn to use one.  Nothing is better than using it to cut up an apple, or pear.  Use it to cut away branches to make a sling-shot, or make a fine walking stick (a teenage necessity).

If you give your child a knife with different blades, please remember to show them how each blade is used.  Do not simply expect them to understand it by osmosis. (Like my father did.) Show them the screw driver, and the can-opener blade, and let them open a can or two of pork and beans and let it cook on a campfire once opened. The corkscrew won’t come in handy until they are in college.. heh, heh.

Knives have many uses.
Knives have many benefits. This is an important point. Having a knife, being able to explore without fear, making a fire, and being able to climb a rope are things that all of our distant relatives did when they were children. These were things that they were allowed and permitted to do in a Free Society. Today, America is NOT a free society. It is a prison, increasingly populated with people and children bread to act and behave as cattle-serfs. I refuse to let my children become cattle for the oligarchy. Moo.

This being stated, I do not advise knives being brought into American schools.  The days of cub scouts having a pocket knife and bringing it into class is long, long over. Incidentally, a cub-scout pocket knife would be an ideal knife for your child int his regard. I had one when I was a boy. I had it for a while until it was replaced by a red (maybe fake) Swiss army knife.

“As a kid in the 1970’s, almost every boy carried a pocket knife. It wasn’t a weapon or for showing off, unless it was new. Sometimes you had to actually cut something and scissors just wouldn’t do.

When you were bored, you’d whittle a stick or a piece of wood with it. I have a simple walking stick carved by my great grandfather, and I recall the mystique of watching and helping as he sharpened his knife. In my keepsake box, I have a pocket knife of my father and grandfather. Interestingly, along with a Confederate $5 bank note, Lincoln had one in his pocket the night he was shot.”

-CR Smyth

Get a good knife.

You do not need to get the biggest, or the most elaborate knife. A simple knife is the best thing. make sure that it is rugged. Children are difficult on things. Make sure that it has two to three blades that the child can master. Make sure that it fits well in his hand, and that it is beautiful enough so that he will want to carry it around with him.

Explore a Construction Site

China is filled with construction sites. While I don’t advocate kids climbing about on the 60th floor of some new skyscraper, many build sites offer great opportunity for exploration and adventure.  That is fun.  Moreover, dear reader, fun and play is HOW children learn.

While I was growing up, the subdivision I lived in was still under construction, so there were always plenty of partially-built houses to explore. After the construction workers left for the day, my boyhood pals and I would cruise down the street on our bikes to check out their work and poke around the skeletal structures rising from the muddy lots. The ones that were the most fun to explore were the two-story houses. You’d have to climb up the railing-less, unfinished stairs and when you got to the top, you were able to walk to the edge of the second story’s framing and throw stuff down on your buds. What great fun!

One of the first things I learned, I was in second grade at the time, was that if you jumped from the second floor to the ground, it hurt! Ouch!

In America today, kids are not permitted “free range” play. They are constantly under observation and supervision. They are coddled and are not given the opportunity to learn some “hard knocks”. I consider this a very troubling situation, and I do not allow my children to be coddled in this way. It wasn’t always  this way.  Children used to be permitted to play.

Here is a great write up on why public playgrounds became so sterile;

“In 1978, a toddler named Frank Nelson made his way to the top of a 12-foot slide in Hamlin Park in Chicago, with his mother, Debra, a few steps behind him. The structure, installed three years earlier, was known as a “tornado slide” because it twisted on the way down, but the boy never made it that far. He fell through the gap between the handrail and the steps and landed on his head on the asphalt.

A year later, his parents sued the Chicago Park District and the two companies that had manufactured and installed the slide. Frank had fractured his skull in the fall and suffered permanent brain damage. He was paralyzed on his left side and had speech and vision problems. His attorneys noted that he was forced to wear a helmet all the time to protect his fragile skull.

The Nelsons’ was one of a number of lawsuits of that era that fueled a backlash against potentially dangerous playground equipment.

Theodora Briggs Sweeney, a consumer advocate and safety consultant from John Carroll University, near Cleveland, testified at dozens of trials and became a public crusader for playground reform. “The name of the playground game will continue to be Russian roulette, with the child as unsuspecting victim,” Sweeney wrote in a 1979 paper published in Pediatrics. She was concerned about many things—the heights of slides, the space between railings, the danger of loose S-shaped hooks holding parts together—but what she worried about most was asphalt and dirt. In her paper, Sweeney declared that lab simulations showed children could die from a fall of as little as a foot if their head hit asphalt, or three feet if their head hit dirt.

A federal-government report published around that time found that tens of thousands of children were turning up in the emergency room each year because of playground accidents.

As a result, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission in 1981 published the first “Handbook for Public Playground Safety,” a short set of general guidelines—the word guidelines was in bold, to distinguish the contents from requirements—that should govern the equipment. For example, no component of any equipment should form angles or openings that could trap any part of a child’s body, especially the head.

To turn up the pressure, Sweeney and a fellow consultant on playground safety, Joe Frost, began cataloguing the horrors that befell children at playgrounds.

Between them, they had testified in almost 200 cases and could detail gruesome specifics—several kids who had gotten their heads trapped or crushed by merry-go-rounds; one who was hanged by a jump rope attached to a deck railing; one who was killed by a motorcycle that crashed into an unfenced playground; one who fell while playing football on rocky ground. In a paper they wrote together, Sweeney and Frost called for “immediate inspection” of all equipment that had been installed before 1981, and the removal of anything faulty. They also called for playgrounds nationwide to incorporate rubber flooring in crucial areas.

In January 1985, the Chicago Park District settled the suit with the Nelsons. Frank Nelson was guaranteed a minimum of $9.5 million. Maurice Thominet, the chief engineer for the Park District, told the Chicago Tribune that the city would have to “take a cold, hard look at all of our equipment” and likely remove all the tornado slides and some other structures. At the time, a reader wrote to the paper:

“Do accidents happen anymore? … Can a mother take the risk of taking her young child up to the top of a tornado slide, with every good intention, and have an accident? Who is responsible for a child in a park, the park district or the parent? … Swings hit 1-year-old children in the head, I’m sure with dire consequences in some instances. Do we eliminate swings?”

But these proved to be musings from a dying age. Around the time the Nelson settlement became public, park departments all over the country began removing equipment newly considered dangerous, partly because they could not afford to be sued, especially now that a government handbook could be used by litigants as proof of standards that parks were failing to meet.

In anticipation of lawsuits, insurance premiums skyrocketed.

As the Tribune reader had intuited, the cultural understanding of acceptable risk began to shift, such that any known risk became nearly synonymous with hazard.

Over the years, the official consumer-product handbook has gone through several revisions; it is now supplemented by a set of technical guidelines for manufacturers. More and more, the standards are set by engineers and technical experts and lawyers, with little meaningful input from “people who know anything about children’s play,” says William Weisz, a design consultant who has sat on several committees overseeing changes to the guidelines.

The handbook includes specific prescriptions for the exact heights, slopes, and other angles of nearly every piece of equipment. Rubber flooring or wood chips are virtually required; grass and dirt are “not considered protective surfacing because wear and environmental factors can reduce their shock absorbing effectiveness.”

“Reasonable risks are essential for children’s healthy development,” says Joe Frost, an influential safety crusader.

It is no longer easy to find a playground that has an element of surprise, no matter how far you travel. Kids can find the same slides at the same heights and angles as the ones in their own neighborhood, with many of the same accessories.

I live in Washington, D.C., near a section of Rock Creek Park, and during my first year in the neighborhood, a remote corner of the park dead-ended into what our neighbors called the forgotten playground. The slide had wooden steps, and was at such a steep angle that kids had to practice controlling their speed so they wouldn’t land too hard on the dirt. More glorious, a freestanding tree house perched about 12 feet off the ground, where the neighborhood kids would gather and sort themselves into the pack hierarchies I remember from my childhood—little kids on the ground “cooking” while the bigger kids dominated the high shelter.

But in 2003, nearly a year after I moved in, the park service tore down the tree house and replaced all the old equipment with a prefab playground set on rubber flooring. Now the playground can hold only a toddler’s attention, and not for very long. The kids seem to spend most of their time in the sandbox; maybe they like it because the neighbors have turned it into a mini adventure playground, dropping off an odd mixing spoon or colander or broken-down toy car.”

-The Overprotected Kid

Well-wishing “do gooders” “busy-bodies” with a profit angle and political influence ruined the educational benefits of pay for nearly two generations of American children.

There is not too much that I can do about it, except for what I do with my children. And, my dear reader, kindly note that they are permitted to play in a fundamentally non-sterile environment.

Shoot a Slingshot

In a time not too long ago, the archetypal boy had a handmade slingshot dangling from the back of his pocket. Today, most boys have never touched one. Which is a shame because slingshots can provide hours of fun and they’re a great way to introduce firearm safety to your young ones (e.g., only point at what you plan on hitting). Yes, you could just buy your kid a fancy manufactured slingshot on Amazon, but how about exposing them to even more positive danger by letting them make their own? They’ll learn how to handle a saw safely and get to practice some knife wielding skills to boot.

However, depending where you live, possession of a slingshot might be problematic.

Some busybody might call the ATF and insist that your child’s slingshot meets the all the regulations for a projectile weapon, such as barrel length, whether or not it has a “bump stock”, magazine size, and whether or not it appear paramilitary.

If you live in in an area where they shut down lemonade stands run by five year olds, then you might want to reconsider the activities that you permit your child to participate in.  If you live in the USA, I would suggest moving to a place where there are not such idiotic regulations, like Communist China or Thailand. Here you can do anything you want within reason.

Read about this sad state of affairs;

Today, americans can be arrested for the slightest cause. America is no longer free. Policemen and cops will arrest anyone, even children.
Here is an American police officer frisking a child on the television show “Cops” showing how important it is for Americans to obey the law.

This is Part 1 of a Two Part Post

This is part one of a two part post. You can go to the other post HERE. This post is rather long. I have exceeded the “industry norm” (Google SEO advisement) by a significant word count. As is my prerogative. You can visit the rest of this post HERE.

Conclusions, “Take Aways” and FAQ can be found on the second post.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
A womanly vanity
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Make America Great Again.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 23AUG18.
  2. SEO review 23AUG18.
  3. Published 23AUG18.

Life Lessons from Working within the Corporate Dream (Part 1)

You know, many of us work for a living. As such, if you have a university degree, the chances are that you migrated to a corporate job in a corporate environment. You probably received a decent salary, a nice (if bland and sterile) working environment, and considered yourself well on the way towards corporate greatness in a solid career.

It’s a nice fantasy. It’s all a big lie.

Most Americans waste their lives working in this environment. They get up and go to work. They deal with traffic, an uncaring boss, and suffer through the various rules that HR implements. They endure mindless and mind-numbing meetings, answer a pile of round-and-round email trains, and fill out form after form.

That’s not a life worth living.

A life worth living is one with purpose, direction, participation and fulfillment. Within the now-popular “corporate model” we have the worst elements of 1920’s-style progressive social-engineering intermixed with 1980’s-austerity. It is a most horrible mixture. Couple that with modern surveillance technology, unified HR standards, and the sterile ideal, you have a nightmare on your hands.

Here are some thoughts on corporate life, particularly American corporate life, now that I moved on elsewhere. These thoughts are just general ramblings, and the reader should not get too offended by them. We are all different.

Those of you who own your own companies and who set them up can ignore this post. This is not written for you. This is written precisely for the people who have to work in the “corporate” environment. One that often springs up out of the model you created.

This is a Two-Part Post

This is the first of a two part post. To see the second part, please kindly go HERE.

Anyways, for starters…

The more hoops you jump through to get the job, the worse you will be treated.

To start, I would like to make this astute observation. The companies that treated me the worst during the interview process, also treated me terribly at work as an employee.

Now, I am not talking about the inconvenience of waiting an hour in the lobby, or having to park at the end of a very large parking lot. No. I am talking about a structured interview process that treats you as a commodity instead of a person.

Corporate board
The hiring process in a corporate environment is oven a laborious affair. The candidate must perform and go through many test, hoops and interviews.

These were the companies that gave me ten face-to-face interviews; a marathon interview day, made me take written exams, and required a peer assessment. They all uniformly treated me poorly when they employed me. Do you really need to interview with ten people to be assessed properly? I mean it. Interviewing by committee can be terribly limiting.

The more you need to do to get hired, the worse you will be treated when hired.

I well remember one interview. I arrived at eight in the morning. After HR gave me some documents to fill out and sign, I was whisked off to go through my rounds of interviews. I had fifteen minutes to interview a person, followed by another one, and then another one, and then another one. That day I had been interviewed by ten people before lunch.

Then, I was given a break where I could eat a sandwich and a coke that they gave me, followed by a continuation of another six interviews, a timed test, and a presentation that I had to make in front of some committee. Then, finally, I was scheduled to meet the person who I was supposed to work for, only to find that he was out, and I would have to come back at a later date.

You are often treated as your perceived value is worth.

You should never equate that relief in finally passing battery after battery of tests to be the same as an appreciation of your value. It isn’t. Instead it is an indicator that the company is far too bureaucratic and too lacking in common decently to treat anyone like a human. We are not machines, pets, or clothing articles at Target. We are unique.

Smaller companies, or even large ones, with a single interview made by the lone person who makes the hiring decision will be the one that will treat you decently.

[1] If you must work for a company, make sure that you report to only one person. Be wary of hiring by committee. Be wary of any company that needs to test, evaluate, or investigate you.

Value does not equate with money.

We are often under the impression that if a company pays us a decent chunk of money, that they value us. This is false. Your value comes from what you can do towards the team that you work with. It does not come from a HR policy or budget analysis made by accounting.

Once we learn to separate value from money our life becomes simpler.

dollar value
When we trade our time and skills for money, we place an “apparent” value on it. Our goal is to keep the value as high as possible over time.

I once had an employee who was stealing from the company. Over a two year period of time he stole a sizable chunk of money right from under our noses. He thought that stealing the money from the company made him richer. In the short term, perhaps it did…

But, do not look at it that way.

Instead of stealing money, he stole someone else’s value. His value did not increase by taking away the value of someone else. It only appeared to be the case.

Once we let him go, his value on the job market was severely handicapped. By trying to reduce the value of others, he ended up reducing his own value and worth.

For us to be happy, we need to separate out “money” and replace it with “value”. Is having a two hour commute with a $150,000/year salary as good as a five minute commute and a $75,000/year salary? Is being expected to be on call 24-7 as good as being able to take a half of day off to see your son play in the local game?

[2] Never, ever, make decisions only on money. The most valuable thing you possess is time. Do not squander it for pieces of paper. Do not confuse your value with a paycheck. They are not the same.

You are only valuable for what you can provide.

Speaking of value…

If you cannot provide a value for your role, then you are useless to the company. Why pay a boy to mow your lawn if you don’t have one? Why buy that great deal on dog food when you don’t have a dog? If you cannot help the company, then there is no need for you to be employed.

In the “old days” employees without an active project would be put on “overhead” to keep them employed until a new contract came through. In those days, it was considered important to keep “knowledge” workers around for the next big project. Not so today. If the work is over, then you are out the door.

This big march to remove employees once their direct usefulness is over was led by Kodak back in the 1980’s. They got rid of most of their knowledge workers and started to rely on cycles of employees that they would hire and fire to meet the market swings…

…perhaps that is why many people today are unaware of how big that company used to be.

Broken Door
To better appreciate the corporate work environment, we need to scale it down to a manageable size. Imagine that you would hire someone to fix your broken front door. Would you keep him employed once he finishes repairing the door? No, of course not.

Think of a guy that you want to fix your broken front door. You look in the classified and you find a guy to do it. You tell him what needs to be done. You watch him fix the door and then you pay him and he leaves. There is no need for him to stick around. Your door is fixed. Nothing else needs to be repaired.

Corporate life is like that too.

The truth is that today, in many a corporate environment, you would be sacked faster than a soggy Doritos chip if you couldn’t contribute to the company bottom line.

Doritos
Nobody wants to eat a soggy Doritos chip. Though, I would if it was part of a taco salad. I would also eat them if they were in a nice bowl of chili. In fact, I think that I would eat them if I was drinking a frosty cold beer. Now that I think of it, I am not corporate, so of course I would eat Doritos chips. However, soggy Doritos would not go over well in the corporate environment.

You are only as valuable as long as you can produce something.  In fact, the rarer of what you provide is, the more valuable you are. This is certainly more applicable for many other fields in life, personal relations, friendships and yes, girls as well.

Your value is tied to what you can produce.

[3] Remember, that our value is what we can produce or the benefit that we can provide to others. Never forget that. If we cause more problems than the benefits we give, then our relationship(s) will end. This is true with both companies and with relationships.

Companies often operate above the law

Many do, but not all.

Do you think that Facebook is playing by the laws? Do you think that Exxon, Kerr-McGee, and Google are? What about the biggest company in your city? How is it that corporations always seem to get away with things?

Big Business.
American corporations have become enormous entities often dwarfing small nations. They can align themselves with other corporations and work together for their combined mutual profit. Often times this is done in deference to the “little guy”.

This is true. Here are three examples;

  1. Don’t follow the law. When I worked at (name deleted) in Boston, they paid me once a month. Yet the law stated otherwise. The law stated that they must pay bi-weekly. When I confronted the HR about this, they were not happy. They said that they would take it under consideration. They made the necessary arrangements and I was fired two weeks later. Naturally, I went to the State government in Boston to resolve the matter. They told me that I was correct, and the company did wrong by firing me. Yet no action was taken either way.
  2. NDA’s are used to keep let-go employees complaisant. One of the things that White Collar professionals sign are NDA agreements. A NDA is a document that restricts the disclosure of confidential information. That is why it is called a Non-Disclosure Agreement. These agreements make it difficult to work at another company or find further work if the company decides to black list you. When it is time to be laid-off or let go, the company will use the NDA and tell you that if you sign it, and not contest their actions, that they will allow the State Government to give you unemployment benefits. This is a very common thing and every company from California to Massachusetts does this.
  3. Patent transfer is a joke. Under the law, if you work on a patent, you get title to the patent, even if you do so under the roof of a company. To get around this, the companies make you sign a “transfer of patent rights” form. The transfer is not complete unless they give you a one dollar amount to show that there was a monetary transfer that took place. Truth be told, I have yet to ever see any individual financial compensation at all from any of my patents.

via GIPHY

Now, the reader should not get confused. I am not particularly bad-mouthing any one company. However, we should all be made aware that organizations that have many employees, operate in the millions of dollars and who pay into the State Revenue banks, have capabilities that are larger than what any one of us has individually. We should be aware of this. We should accept this. As it is a fact of life.

[4] We all have a place on the food chain. It’s not fair. It operates within it’s own set of rules and laws, and is separate from us. We need perspective, and we need to keep that in mind.

Meetings typically are a waste of time

One truth is that meetings often are poorly planned and often poorly executed. Meetings between key players in a given project is very important and necessary. For business is based on people relationships and interactions. However, the weekly meetings, and odd-ball meetings that seem to include everyone are often a waste of time that adds to the inefficiency of a given organization.

Meetings should be kept at a minimum, and replaced with face-on-face individual communication.

Boring Meeting
It’s a typical scene and well known in corporate environments. Businessman speaking before inattentive colleagues at meeting.

In short, learn this. Meetings are a waste of time. Always. Nothing good has ever come out of them, really. Most people aren’t listening, and the ones talking are far away from reality.

[5] Get into the habit of talking to people one on one. Stop having meetings. Talk to people personally, face to face. When you do, give them every attention. Business relationships are based on people. They are not based on spreadsheets and reports.

via GIPHY

Everyone everywhere basically wants the same thing

While we all come from different backgrounds and different interests, we are human with basic human needs. We want to be productive. We want to perform a good day’s labor. We want to be appreciated fro our contribution. We want to provide for our families. We want to have some down time to play.

The problem comes in when we go corporate. There, we fit into a role. We become a cog in a machine with other cogs. We all become the same color, the same size, and the same image. When we go corporate, we start to separate our work-life from our personal-life.

That is a great danger.

life-work
A nice PPT slide from IBM that captures the significance of this statement. By now, everyone pretty much realizes the importance of a life-work balance. The big problem is that is is difficult to integrate into a traditional corporate business environment.

For a truly happy man is one who can merge his industrious pursuits with that of his interests and family. We become whole. Work and labor is what we do. No one questions it. We work, and then we provide for our family. It is the traditional, time honored, family model that has held up for at least 10,000 years.

When we separate work and labor from family and happiness, we dilute what we can give.  We give eight hours to the company. We give four hours to ourselves in prep for the company. The balance is split up between family and survival needs. This model is different from the traditional model.

We can’t give 100% of what we have. We end up in this grey area, this grey zone of not good enough.

The key to success in the corporate world is to be who you are totally. Do this whether you are in a corporate work environment, or if you are running your own company. Do not fall into the trap of segmenting yourself into various roles. In doing so , you dilute who you are.

[6] Do not dilute yourself. When we start separating ourselves into small specialized pieces, we dilute the whole. Don’t do that. Be true to who we are. Give and devote ourselves 100% of who we are.

Deferring your happiness to the future is a terrible idea

I have seen this time and again. In fact, even I have done this myself. I would accept a job “for now” to achieve some monetary gain or advantage, so that later I could… do something else.

Group meeting.
When there is an important announcement at your company, does it look something a little like this? Well, if it does, then like it or not, you are in a corporate bubble. If you are not careful, you will have difficulty leaving it. Be careful.

Indeed, this is a terrible truth. Too many people assume that when they have that one thing they can work towards for years then “everything will be alright”. Indeed, there will come a time when you will take up a job just for the money and nothing else.

This is delusional. It is nonsense. It is bullshit.

I think this comes from our educational system. You go to Elementary School to strive to go to High School. You go through High School to go to College or University. You go through University to “Get a Good Job”.

There isn’t an alternative.

After some 14 to 16 years or more of this mind-set it becomes ingrained within your very being. By the time you hit your early productive years, you are firmly fixated in a goal-oriented life. This runs in direct opposition to an integrated life.

Unless you have no money, and no savings and you need money RIGHT THEN and NOW, don’t do it. We are not one-dimensional cardboard cutouts. Our life is colorful and dynamic with many, many aspects to it. We cannot take a part of it and set it aside while we nurture other aspects of  our life. We just cannot.

When you finally get it, they’ll be something else missing in your life.

We need to think of ourselves as a unified whole. We need to think of balance and happiness. Instead of pulling a piece here and then working on it, and then pulling out a piece there and then working on it.

Really, that is crazy. I fundamentally believe that long-term pure happiness comes being content with what we have, live in the now, all while enjoying the progress and changes we are making.

Motivational saying on life.
There is more to life that going to the “next step”. You weren’t born to just pay bills and die. You are a purpose. You are a role. You were granted with who you are. Do not let and allow others to bleach it out from you. Be who you have been meant to be.

Instead of working for a decade to eventually get a vacation in Florida, how about packing up and moving there? Instead of saving and saving for a nice Lamborghini, how about getting a job in a Lamborghini store as a salesperson? Instead of wanting to go out and date that buxom blonde in the office, how about going up and asking her out for coffee?

[7] We need to change the mindset ingrained in us by the educational system. We all need to stop deferring our happiness.

You need game 

If you really want to make it in the business world, whether it is a corporate environment, or your own “shoe-string” business, you will need “game”. You will need to “up your game”. You will need to push and strive to be better than your peers or anyone else.

Success does not favor the average or the bland, and mundane. Success favors the unique and exceptional.

Barry White
Consider Barry White. Many people today haven’t heard of this man. Yet he was a true man, full of confidence, and “game”. Perhaps we all need to tear a page out of the Berry White playbook and emulate him.

We know this. We know that we need to fight to get a job at a company when there are a thousand applicants that we must fight against. We know that we need to be the best. However, what usually happens is that we stop once we have achieved our goal.

Yeah. That’s what happens. Usually, we just stop when we reach our goal. This is because a goal-oriented mindset is one with objectives.

Don’t let that be you.

We must keep on striving to be the best at whatever we do. We need to be the best and stay at it, even when our goals have been obtained. Instead of a goal, we should strive continuously. If we achieve various achievements, good for us. But, that won’t stop us. Instead we will keep on going on.

By having and maintaining “game” we will obtain confidence in the process. Confidence is a powerful tool that can open many doors. Unsurprisingly, people in positions of power often have a great deal of confidence; this means that they can easily recognize when confidence is genuine and when it is posed.

This same advice applies to girls; you are far better off being genuinely confident, thus projecting a natural vibe of superiority that no faking can attain.

[8] Do your best. Smile. Be confident. Be you, and be the best YOU that you can achieve.

Efficiency is a lie

The more efficient you are at your work, the more you will be burdened with it. You work hard, your supervisor will give you more to do. When someone sees you taking a break, they will give you more work to fill in the “gap” in workload.

To many people, a lack of busy-work is a sign of inefficiency. To them, the cure for inefficiency is more work, more responsibilities, and more tasks.

Additionally, there will be others that will try their best to convince you that you are not doing your best, that you are not giving your best to the company, and that you could do better. Is it really the truth, or is it something that they say to get you to alter and change your behavior?

Water test in Japan
Dr. Masaru conducted a very famous test on the power of thought. He placed written words on jars of water. He then placed them all together in an isolated room. The only difference from any of the jars is the words written on the jars. He then, after a period of time, tested the water , froze it, and took photographs of the results. The jars with the negative and hurtful words created the worst shaped crystals, while those with the nicest words had the best shaped crystals. The only difference between the crystals are the thoughts associated with the words on the jars. Since humans are mostly composed of water, what do you think a critical work environment would do to the human body? What about the words “You are not good enough”?

Forget what others say. Remember that they are not with you 24-7, nor do they know your past and your day to day interactions. No one knows your life better than you do.

So, let’s break this down. Only one to two situations come into play;

  1. They are right, and you are not giving your best.
  2. They are wrong, and you are doing your best.

Depending on the situation, the following is what will happen in a corporate environment.

If you are not giving your best, you risk losing your job. Therefore, you need to up your game and improve. What this means is that you must improve, AND also look like you are improving. That is where corporate politics come into play. It can get uncomfortable.
If you are doing your best, then the perception is out of alignment with reality. You could risk losing your job. Even if you exceed your current known abilities, then you will still need to fight the political battles that will rage around you. In any event things will get uncomfortable.

Thus, this is a catch-22 and a no-win situation. Being in these situations are the bane of the corporate environment.

[9] When the world around you complains, forge on anyways. Listen to what others say under advisement. Remember that your “best” will change from day to day. No one aside from yourself will know what your peak efficiency is. So forge on…

Nobody Cares

I hate to break this to you, the reader. But you know what? Nobody cares about your individual progress in the corporate world. All that matters is what you contribute to the company.

Most of the smiles you get are fake. Most of the platitudes are empty ones.

via GIPHY

We must realize that unless you are close to a person… close enough to get shit-faced drunk with them… when your guards are down… and there both of you have to trust each other…

Otherwise, it’s all a lie.

Which is why in China, business meetings are conducted in such a way that “face” is maintained and large quantities of heavy alcohol is consumed in enormous quantities. Business, real productive business, is conducted when the interpersonal barriers are down and weak. My father once told me a saying that his grandfather taught him’ “Never trust a teetotaler.”.

via GIPHY

Shared strife… shared experiences… shared understandings… can break down walls and build long lasting friendships. When we try to go corporate, and when we try to be good, we lose the importance of rough-house bonding.

If you don’t have shared experiences, the chances are that you don’t have anything.

[10] We can only trust those whom we have shared events and deeply bonded with. Other than that, it’s all just a facade, a “white wash”, and nonsense.

Be practical.

People seem to have a strange concept of how luck works. I think maybe this is due to the local lottery and the news media announcing yet another multi-million dollar winner. We watch television shows where people are living in mansions, and driving around in expensive cars. Do you remember the television show “Miami Vice”? How can two cops get to drive around in all those expensive cars, live in all those mansions, and meet all those hot chicks?

Hollywood is the great lie.

via GIPHY

People seem to think that somehow that their luck will come because “they deserve it”. They want to believe that one day things will eventually fall into place for them. In other words, you are “due” to win the lottery or you will get swept away by prince charming any day now. “You deserve it” (as if others don’t).

This is terrible misunderstanding of how the world actually works.

Do not wait around for luck to materialize. You must put things in place for things to happen. You MUST put things in PLACE for your dreams to manifest.

Don't misunderstand, there are cycles in this world that we live in and a reality that has aspects of auspiciousness, and unfavorable climates. Never the less, nothing is going to manifest unless we plan and do things about it.

Do you want the pretty girls to smile back when you open the door for them? Lose ten pounds, and practice making the happiest and biggest smile that you can think of. Dress well. Have a nice hair style. Be clean…

…opportunities will manifest.

Do you want to get a raise at work? Then play the political game, work harder than everyone else, and be friends with your boss. Start taking credit where credit is do, and come in earliest and leave late. Play the game…

…opportunities will manifest.

sandwich and palm trees.
Instead of spending time dreaming a a fine sandwich and beer, maybe we should get up off the chair and go make it happen. It’s not that hard to do. However our level of comfort is what often prevents us from doing things.

Do you want to have a turkey sandwich and a ice cold beer while watching the sun set over an ocean, then you need to set yourself up so that materializes. We have the ability to physically manifest change in our life. Go to a store, buy the ingredients. Get some beer and put it in the freezer. Then make it all up and go out to the beach. Don’t put it off… Oh, and by the way, ask that pretty girl that you have been thinking of to join you. I’d bet she’d love it.

[11] Be the master of  your life. Do not rely on fate to control your life.

There is no such thing as “Destiny”

In the corporate world, you are expected to accept things as they are presented to you, while in your private world you act within the terms that you have grown accustomed to. Both are lies.

We exist within this reality with the POWER to change it. Never forget that basic fact.

While it is nice to change and cycle through the MWI using external technology, it really isn't all that necessary on a personal level. We have the inherent ability to do so naturally.

We live within a preset and pre-programmed reality. We do not like to believe in fate, and destiny and other “superstitions”. Yet there is some truth to our existence. There is some purpose. There is a reason why YOU are reading this.

As such, we need to accept the fact that while things appear to be fated, pre-ordained, or just destined. That is not the case. We have the ability to make changes to our reality.

Desk work
Is the life that you live within your company the life that you really thought that you would get after university? Is this the ideal? Do you live for the paychecks, or are the paychecks something that supports your lifestyle. If there is any discomfort in your life, then you do need to change it.

In short, the life you live is like a highway. You are placed in the middle of it, and cars come and go. You can obey the signs and follow the highway. That is the easy way to live your life. However, it is not destined.

I suggest that you do not ride the life that is laid before you. You can change it.

You can drive fast or slow. You can change lanes. You can ride on the curb. You can stop, and even go into reverse, if you wanted to. Heck, you can even go off road, for the “bumpy” experience.

via GIPHY

So there is no such thing as destiny. There are only your thoughts and your desires. I suggest that you start following them…

The first step in changing things is to change our thoughts. The second step is to change our actions. The third step is to change our habits.

By making these changes we can change our life.

Your limitations are not set by who you know, where you were born, what genes you have, how much money you have, how old you are right now, what you did before or other things that you can claim are your stamp of failure for life. If you are determined enough, there can be opportunities in life that are totally achievable with minimal cash, regardless of who you are.

[12] We can control our reality to obtain advantage in our life.

Caretaker cottage.
Groundskeeper cottage. I found this wonderful image on tumblr. Image that you would work on a huge estate, and you would be provided with this cute little, tight home to live in. How cozy. So I wonder, what’s stopping you? Why not live in a house, or a place, at a job, with a family that you determine? Why do we always seem stuck with the life that those around us decide for us? Why is it? It doesn’t have to be that way.

Desk Jobs will kill your creativity

I’ll bet that you, the reader, were all full of ideas, spunk and optimism when you graduated from university. Weren’t you? Well, what happened? Where are they now? What killed them off?

Office working environment
Here is a still from the genius movie “Joe vs the volcano” starring Tom Hanks. It accurately portrayed the plight of many an office worker who toils in a terrible office work environment, and drinking coffee that is best described as “lumpy”. Not to mention those energy-saving piss-poor lights that serve to illuminate most of our productive hours.

Was it your friends? Your family? The grocer down the street? Your barber? Or, better yet, was it your workplace, and your boss? Has your boss or any of your supervisors ever given you any hope and cheering on for your dreams? Have they? For if they have, then you are a rare and lucky person, indeed.

There is nothing so absolutely mind-numbing than working in a sterile neutral-color cubicle under fluorescent artificial lighting that will sap the life and drain the energy out from you.

Poor lighting
Any company that will not install natural lighting in a place that you will work for eight hours a day, just to save a few pennies, is not a company that cares about your well being. Humans are creatures that need, yes need, a healthy environment to work. It amazes me that they will ban smoking and install various dress codes, but they will refuse to install natural lighting for the employees.

Unless you are thriving in this now-standard working environment, you will need to seriously reconsider the career choices that you have made. Or, at least, reconsider your work place environment.

[13] Take seriously the environment that surrounds you. Know that it will affect your thoughts and actions. This influence is dangerous as it can influence your life for better or for worse.

Motivational saying.
Never change your originality for the sake of others. This is because no one can play your role better than you. So be yourself and be your best.

Avoid “Echo Chambers”

An “echo chamber” is a place, a group of friends, a work environment, a series of websites, a news media that all says the same thing. By staying within that “echo chamber” you get the FALSE impression that everyone around you thinks like you do.

That is false.

Even within an “echo chamber”, your mind will think and operate quite differently from those around you.

We all know examples of “Echo Chambers”.

  • The main-stream American press.
  • College universities.
  • HR polices in a corporate environment.
  • An NFL football team.
  • The BLM membership.
  • The Liberal Narrative
  • The Conservative Narrative
As much as I tend to believe strongly in traditional conservative values, I find that if you completely close your mind to only those outlets you get a distorted view of reality. I'm not bad-mouthing conservative values and principles. However, we need to understand that many times what we want to hear is repackaged to us as an echo chamber.

This hasn't been so obvious as when I moved to China.

I was expecting enormous crowds. Well, I saw that. I was expecting a kind of dingy world. Well, indeed there are some pretty ugly areas. I was expecting ancient and ruinous infrastructure, millions of blue clad workers riding bicycles, a police and military force everywhere, and hordes of poverty ridden poor from the countryside clamoring to be led into the mega-cities. NOT FUCKING TRUE.

It's not even remotely true.

I was expecting a scene from a "Save the Children" commercial, and instead what I experienced was a futuristic Tokyo. 

Trust me. You need to get out of whatever echo chamber you are in now, and look around you. It's a new world, with new rules. Not just in the corporate world, but in life as well. Realize it. learn from it. Get out of the echo chamber. Go out and see for yourself.

You will discover that many of the people are just repeating what they have read and heard from others. Others who have been repeating what they, in turn, have read and heard. From others who are repeating what they have read and heard.

Modern China…

Modern China…

We have to be careful… always. Today in our digital age, it is so easy to be led into a “echo chamber”. Those on university campuses today have a terribly distorted view of what America is like. heck, many of them cannot even name one Right listed in the Bill of Rights. They think that everyone outside of their city is a racist bigot. What amazing ignorance.

Do not fall into the “echo chamber” trap.

What happens is that when you meet someone with a very different belief system to yours, it’s better to get along than to try to “convert” them. This is as true for how the world works as it is for anything else. We tend to want to be part of the herd. We do not want to stand out, or be ostracized. We want to belong.

Echo chamber
The social media in America is one huge “echo chamber” that is dominated with progressive liberal socialists. They have made it so that anything other than what they want to hear is withheld. They offer all kinds of excuses, usually the same tired old lame excuses… hate, deplorable, racist, bigot…etc. Yet, the fact is that this is exactly against what America stood and stands for… the freedom to say your peace. Don’t live in the echo chamber.

When someone is sure about something and has believed it for many many years, then you cannot convince them with a few cleverly picked words.  We tend to call this person a “close minded” person. But, yet is it really that way? Maybe it’s us that is the close minded one. Indeed, maybe it’s important to acknowledge that maybe we are actually the wrong one in this case.

The world is much more fun with people of varying interests and beliefs.

Spending time exclusively with people who agree with you on everything would never challenge you or allow you to learn so much more. We need challenge. We need exposure to different things. We need to be with others who are different, who are colorful, who have ability, and who are themselves.

The problem with the corporate environment is that conformity is policed. When you reach the boundaries of conformity and step outside them, you will be considered to be undesirable, and termination is only a short and brief paycheck away.

I once had a friend who lived in North Carolina. He told me that the key to happiness is to be unique on your own terms, but hide it from everyone else. You must conform, and not make waves, but in the privacy of your house and your life, you can live the life on your terms.

Now that I am older, I can see some benefit in his advice. Yet, I do not wholly convinced to agree with him. I say, instead, that a real man is himself no matter what and pretends for no one.

[14] Expose yourself to as many different things as possible. Go outside your “echo chamber”. Never take anything said by anyone at face value. Get multiple sources, and make sure they are isolated from each other. Beware of the corporate one-company is one-mind trap.

As an aside, it is well known that you do not want a person who has worked some twenty years in a singular role within a large company. They tend to be too inflexible and too rigid in their thinking process. I wonder why that is?

Living a good life is the best way possible to convince people

Have you ever spent time and time again, just arguing with people? They have their view, and you have yours. They don’t want to hear your view, for some reason. You do not want to hear theirs. You and they are both in a dead lock.

So what?

Enough with the words and enough with the arguing. Just live by example and soon you’ll have people on your side when they see your results. Over time they will come around. They will see your passion, and your earnest belief in who you are.

They will find that their assumptions about you, who you are, the life you live, and your values are not what they thought. They will come around. Don’t argue with them. Show them.

via GIPHY

There is no longer a need to convince them of anything. You just be who you are and show them. Eventually they will see that you weren’t so crazy after all.

Now, in the corporate world, there is only one answer. That is the answer that your boss tells you it is. Nothing else matters. Which is, when you think about it, terribly limiting. In China there is a saying…

There are many ways to get to Beijing.

Which of course, means that you can eventually make it to your objective. You need to select the way that is the best one. For some, the quickest and most expensive, might be the best method. For others, the cheap and slow might be best. So, whether you fly, walk, hitch-hike, take a train, or ride a donkey, eventually you will make it to Beijing.

The problem with the corporate culture is that all these various answers and solutions can be withheld from you. Unless you are in the vaulted decision-making process to make these decisions, you will start to rely on the decisions of others. And, that my friends, is a great trap. Be careful.

[15] You need to start living your life on your terms. As such, your success will speak for itself. There will not be any question that you were doing something right. Though others might chalk it up to luck or fate, they will invariably be wrong.

Nobody has the Answer

We have grown accustomed, through school, through society, through the news media, and through the legions of statists, that there is a “perfect” truth. That there is a perfect reality and singular solution. We mistakenly follow them through our 16 years of educational schooling. We are constantly searching for the ideal mate. We are constantly searching for the ideal job. We are constantly searching for the “secrets of the universe”.

It’s all a big lie.

There is no singular answer. No, let me be the first to crush this fantasy; the NWO, one global government is not going to be the solution to all the world’s ill’s. Nope. No way. No how. I know… just, listen I know. I mean I really, REALLY know.

Truth
There is no universal truth, at least nothing that we would recognize as such. There are, instead, relative truths that vary from observer to observer. This is quantum mechanics at it’s primeval level.

You have to get a grasp on the reality you live is yours and yours alone. It is not a shared reality. No matter how real that appears to you now.

Stop comparing yourself to others. They look richer. They seem happier. They appear to be smarter. They seem to have more fun. They seem to have all the luck. It’s all illusion. Almost everyone has problems and puts on a brave face in spite of it

Everyone is living their reality. They are living their life, and within that life are collapsed dreams, hardship, hurt, terror, worry, sadness and sacrifice. They all had it. Not only you. Never casually dismiss them as being more fortunate than you are. You do not know their story. So stop comparing yourself.

Which brings me around to the corporate environment. The business and corporate environment is one that that mandates appearance. Some companies permit you to put a picture or two on your desk. Some are even so bold as to allow you a potted plant and a different colored pen to use from time to time. Corporate workers are expected to be drones that work in a state of bland sameness.

Be careful.
We need to be careful of a set cultural, societal, or corporate environment. They expect followers to act as drones for the collective good. Often they will discard you when you are no longer useful, or even worse, they could demand that you do dangerous things for the good of the company. Be careful.

Over time, this attitude affects us. We start to believe it. We spend all day with our coworkers and believe that we are all the same. Then we go home and see the life as portrayed on the television, the internet and the movies. We yearn for that excitement and that closeness. But it’s a fiction. Everything outside of your personal experience is a fiction.

Nothing exists until you PERSONALLY experience it.

[16] There is no singular answer or solution. All there is is an “answer” for YOU and the reality that you live.

It is fine to say “I made a mistake”

We have grown up over the years to be ashamed of making mistakes. Our school would punish us for making mistakes. Our parents would punish us for making mistakes. Indeed, our spouses would punish us for making mistakes.

Hey! Here’s a news flash for you. You are an adult. You are not a child.

You are an adult. You are not a child.

Making mistakes is how we grow. You learn through mistakes. What do you think Hillary Clinton will do next time she wants to set up a hidden secretive computer server to suck up Top Secret emails to give to Pakistan? I’ll bet you that she would do things much differently. Next time, oh at the rate AG Sessions is going yeah there will be a next time, it will be more secretive, better guarded and better protected.

HIllary Clinton.
Lock her up by Ben Garrison at Grr Graphics. All credit to the artist. Hillary Clinton sure has managed to get away with a lot. This is a characteristic of a third world banana republic. It is not the characteristic of a functioning Republic.

A true and real person is not afraid to say that they made a mistake. You don’t even need to justify it. You don’t have to come up with reasons. All you need to say, is that you understand that you made a mistake and that you are putting systems in place to prevent that mistake from happening again.

If the other(s), whomever they are, do  not accept that, then they can FUCK themselves. Seriously,  in business or in your family, you must be a man. You set the standards that you live by. No one else does. Be a man, or be a child. There is no in between.

[17] Be honest with yourself, with those around you, and with your loved ones. You are no longer a child that has to lie and make up falsehoods to avoid confrontation.

via GIPHY

At some point you are going to need to work very hard.

I have got to say, after years and years of working hard, finally I was eventually able to secure some senior level positions. Now, let it be told, that although having an senior position is a fantastic way to earn a living, it is really hard work.

Don’t buy into that Hollywood lie. You don’t get into management by drinking coffee at the local restaurant. You cannot automatically drive a Lamborghini by being a police officer, and you won’t become a billionaire by writing some code. The route to success is often paved with hard work.

And… sacrifice.

And… pain with misery.

I do not mean to scare the Dejesus out of anyone, but I really do want to make a point. You need to plan, and devote your time to doing and performing useful labors. Often you will not see any results. Or maybe what you are doing won’t pay for your rent and you will need to do something that you don’t like.

That’s just the way life is. That is the story of your reality.

[18] If you want something, you will need to put in the time to get it. You will have to think about it. You will need to imagine it, and you will need to do real physical work to cause it to manifest.

More money will NEVER solve your problems

Somehow, in America, many people believe that only if they had more money all their problems would go away…

Nope. It doesn’t work that way. Instead, more problems will materialize. Not only that, but the problems will balloon to a level that you are unaccustomed to. The size of the money you have is exponentially proportional to the problems associated with it.

Now, I am not advocating poverty. However, I have to say that many of the things… the baubles and the latest iPhone, and that nice car are not germane to your happiness. Personally, I have done a lot of thinking, and my fondest memories, the ones that I treasure the most, occurred when I really didn’t have much in the way of money.

In fact, what I had at that period in my life was TIME and COMPANIONSHIP.

Time
Spend time, meaningful and precious time, with those you love. Make your time quality time. Buy an ice cream cone with your retired father. Take you mother out of a morning breakfast. Call up one of your friends and go to the beach or hike in a local park. Spend time together.

As long as you are not living in the street or going hungry, then you do not “need” more money. When you spend enough time with people who are actually living on next to nothing, but having a full life, then you will truly understand this. Everything that is wonderful about life doesn’t cost a penny, and the rest is way cheaper than you think it is.

[19] Think about the people that surround you. Think about spending time with them. Take your mind off the need to make money to purchase things. Concentrate on relationships and spending time with those you love. Remember, you can always make more money, but you can never make more time.

Respect is earned, not demanded.

Work is mostly a meritocracy.

Yes there are exceptions, and the higher up you get, the sillier and strange the effects manifest. However, in general, the more you work, the more skills you acquire. The more “war stories” you can elaborate on, and the more money that you can command.

Holding an executive position has levels of respect and even reverence that are intrinsic to it. I am often looked after and praised. But much like in the military you salute the rank and not the man. In the corporate world often time it is very much like this—people care about the position you hold instead of you.

Nothing is truer than in China. Where I am giving a “God Like” status as a vaulted Boss.

Never the less, one false move and you could lose all that respect in a heart-beat. Status and respect, especially in China, is tied to the concept of “Face”. It’s a difficult concept to grasp, but it is an important one.

Face is very visible in the Chinese business environment and plays an important role in inter- and intra-company communication, business negotiations, and the development and maintenance of relationships. 

In China, company hierarchy is much more important than in many Western countries. Not only are leaders  and managers placed on a higher pedestal, but the distinction between different levels of management is much clearer and more important. 

Many Chinese leaders and managers expect respect from their subordinates and in many cases expect to be obeyed without question, no matter the rationality or fairness behind a request.  

Not obeying “the will” of a Chinese leader or manager does not give them the perceived necessary prestige they (and others) feel is deserved. Indeed, survival in a Chinese company depends on knowing one’s place, and Face plays a very important role in facilitating that function.

-China Culture Corner

[20] You need to earn your place at the table. You cannot demand it.

This is a Two-Part Post

This is the first of a two part post. To see the second part, please kindly go HERE.

Posts about Life and Happiness

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Feducial Training for ELF-Based MWI Access

As the reader might recall, I was attending training to become a Naval Aviator for the United States Navy. One day, the base commander summoned me and another (known in this manuscript as Sebastian) and offered us a special role in a “new” program put in place by the President of the United States.  We discussed the opportunity with him and we agreed to join the program. We exchanged our (very) valuable and coveted Naval Aviator positions for something else in a special program (otherwise) known as MAJestic. We stood up after the meeting with him and exited his office in the ELF sub-compound at the Naval base. This post discusses what happened next…

This is a very important post, but it is also a bit bland. There are segments within this post that are very valuable. I would suggest the reader pay attention and be on the outlook for those nuggets of gold.

We Began Immediately

The first thing that happened after we signed up for the program was [1] an introductory lecture on what a SAP was, and [2] the training associated with brain-centering technology. This chapter discusses that subject.

We left the office, then went a short distance down the hall.  We exited the building, crossed the parking lot and entered an adjacent building that was nearby. It was the largest building in the sub-complex and I thus assume that it was the most important.

“The classification was, from the outset, above Top Secret, so the vast majority of U.S. officials and politicians, let alone a mere allied minister of defense, were never in the loop . . . “

-Paul Hellyer, former Canadian Minister of Defense (2005)

We opened a side door and went in. We found ourselves in a large dim warehouse.  It was bare for the most part with a few huge objects covered with large canvas tarps off to the sides.  There was a small group of approximately twenty people, all women, clustered around a relatively tall petty officer who was explaining things on a portable chalkboard.  There was another seaman, off to the right, standing against the cement brick wall.  We walked closer to observe, but stayed apart from the group.

We just stood there and watched the presentation.

The Lecture

“I now (personally) have three completely independent examples of individuals whom I trust reporting to me that individuals they trust have admitted to handling alien materials in "our" possession in the course of secret official duties. And in yet two more cases, I am similarly one (trustworthy) step removed from a former head of a federal government agency who was involved with reverse engineering efforts and a head of state of a G8 country who also said he had been officially briefed on that program.

Now the Air Force Project Blue Book of the 1950s and 1960s did have both a public and a classified side. I suspect that after the public half of Blue Book closed up shop following the Condon Report, its classified half may have continued, existing today as a black special access program…”

-Bernard Haisch.  (ufoskeptic.org)

We missed the beginning of the presentation, but it was easy to follow the lecture.

We listened intently, not quite understanding everything that he was talking about.  While the basic idea was simple, he was using unfamiliar terms, and referring to units and organizations that we knew nothing about, but apparently referred to the audience he was addressing.  He spoke expertly as if he had made this presentation numerous times before.

The girls.
We walked in on a lecture in process. There in the large room were a group of cute and attractive girls, all that same age was us two AOCS. They were stunning.

The audience, that he was making a presentation to, had nothing to do with us.

I assume.  Perhaps they were staff that were being trained to be the “black widows” that retired agents.  Perhaps they were being trained to do various secretary level activities.  Perhaps they were part of some kind of off-world breeding program.  Who the heck knows?

They were all female, wearing civilian clothes, and all very attractive.  We walked into a “mother-load” or attractive girls.  They were all beautiful, and ranged from cute to full blown stunning. They were there at the ELF facility for other purposes unrelated to us.  We knew nothing about them and they knew nothing about us.  We were entering one SAP program.  They were entering another.  Both programs were under MAJestic control.  Both programs utilized static portal access. Both programs required us to register our desires.

The Level of Secrecy

We listened to the presentation.

He explained to us that we were all joining a special program.  (The name of the program was not given; or if it was, I do not remember it.)  This program was an “Unacknowledged (When questioned; a government official will deny and disavowal knowledge and understanding and existence of the project.) Special Access Program” (U-SAP).

Special access programs (SAPs) in the federal government of the United States of America are security protocols that provides highly classified information with safeguards and access restrictions that exceed those for regular (collateral) classified information. It may be a type of black project.  In addition to collateral controls, a SAP may impose more stringent investigative or adjudicative requirements, specialized nondisclosure agreements, special terminology or markings, exclusion from standard contract investigations (carve-outs), and centralized billet systems. 

Two types of SAP exist: acknowledged and unacknowledged. The existence of an acknowledged SAP may be publicly disclosed, but the details of the program remain classified. An unacknowledged SAP (or U-SAP) is made known only to authorized persons, including members of the appropriate committees of the United States Congress.

The nature of the program and the tasks that we were involved in required that we be implanted with special memory controlling technology.  As it was explained to us, this was necessary for our own safety.  It doesn’t matter which program that you are in or what role you will have in that program.  Everyone must be implanted with probes in their brain.  Not all probes are the same, and some probes have other functions other than for security.  But, everyone in our class of SAP, absolutely MUST be implanted with a basic kit.

“Everyone in the program must be implanted with probes in their brain.”

He then looked at me, Sebastian and the Commander.  He nodded at us, and added that some of us would be involved in even more secretive programs.  These were very important programs, and required even more important (or complex) technology.

He called the program that we were to be involved in as a” Waived Unacknowledged Special Access Program” W(U)-SAP.  He said that these programs report to the highest levels of authority and answer to absolutely no one else.

Waived SAP's are a subset of unacknowledged SAP's in the Department of Defense. 

These SAP's are exempt by statutory authority of the Secretary of Defense from most reporting requirements and, within the legislative branch, the only persons who are required to be informed of said SAP's are the chairpersons and ranking committee members of the Senate Appropriations Committee, Senate Armed Services Committee, House Appropriations Committee, and the House Armed Services Committee.

Of course, to us at that time, it was all “Greek” to us and went completely over our heads.

That's Greek to me or It's (all) Greek to me is an idiom used in the English language. It basically expresses that something is not understandable.  

The idiom is typically used with respect to the foreign nature, complexity or imprecision of verbal or written expression or diagram, often containing excessive use of jargon, dialect, mathematics, science, symbols, or diagrams.

Implantation

Thus, before we could begin our mission assignment, we needed to be implanted.  And before we can operate with the implants we first need to know how to use them.  Fundamentally, to use them, and unlock their full range of capabilities, you need to be able to focus and control your mind.  Not everyone has had a course in transcendental meditation, and because of this external tools and techniques are used to focus your mind.  The purpose of this was to (more or less) put our mind in “idle”.  We had to turn off random thoughts and random synapses firing, and be able to “calm” the activity in our brain down to a “neutral” level of activity.

Implantation (that he was referring to) is the physical placement of small (I assumed to be computerized) probes inside your brain.  There are different kinds of probes and they come in different forms and styles; known as “kits”.   To use the probes, they had to be engaged, and to engage the probes the mind needed to be “centered”.

The implants, or probes, have different capabilities.

  • They enabled us to be tracked.
  • They enabled us to be identified, because each probe has a unique identification signal.
  • They enabled us to control and improve our memory to some extent.
  • They gave us the ability to learn new skills and knowledge, with the proper training.
  • They also permitted the compartmentalization of our memories to prevent secrets from falling into the hands of adversarial forces.  This included the suppression of memory (though memories are never erased).
  • They also have the ability to monitor body functions.
  • They also have a limited ability to control various bodily functions.
The ability to control our biological functions were mostly retarded.  They could somewhat control our muscle reasons, making them quick or slow.  They could improve or retard the efficiency of our biological functions such as the stomach, kidney, liver, and genitals.  They could also affect our general health through use of these controls.

Finally, and most importantly,

  • He said that the most important aspect of the probes was that they were a kind of special key that enabled us to “unlock” a very special kind of door.

All of this caused some concern with the ladies.  However, he reassured them, and told them not to worry.

He said that the strictest protocols were involved and absolutely no one would misuse the program.  Further, access of the probes was by a very rigorous  method that precluded accidental or malevolent abuse.

He specifically told the young ladies that no one would alter their emotional desires unless there were good cause to do so, and that no matter what happens, they would always retain who they were.  Their personality would never be affected.

Finally, he stated that the probes were only used sporadically, and they are never used unless really good reasons justify it.

Further, he assured them that one’s memory is never truly erased. That would require extensive cranial surgery. Instead, the way our brain searches for the memory is altered.  People still remember everything.  All the training, and the missions, are remembered.  However, they lose their significance, their value and their importance. The events become ‘commonplace’.  An example would be like the fifth time when you opened the bathroom door in your grandmother’s house. Remembered, but considered to be unimportant.

Context-dependent memory refers to improved recall of specific episodes or information when the context present at encoding and retrieval are the same. In the case of the probes this is easily facilitated or retarded depending on the memory.  Thus, a given memory can be blocked through withholding items that aid in the recall of it.  One particularly common example of context-dependence at work occurs when an individual has lost an item (e.g. lost car keys) in an unknown location. Typically, people try to systematically "retrace their steps" to determine all of the possible places where the item might be located. Based on the role that context plays in determining recall, it is not at all surprising that individuals often quite easily discover the lost item upon returning to the correct context.

Now, not all probes could do this, but ours could.  They monitored temperature, pulse, blood pressure and mental activity.  They also monitored eye movement and what our visual cortex observed, including dreams and thoughts that had a visual component.

If our thoughts accessed the visual cortex they could be observed remotely.  I tell the reader this two times; what we viewed though our eyes was physically observed by our handlers at MAJestic.  Therefore, if I watched a movie, read a book, had sex, or ate a pizza, the handlers, if they were monitoring me, could observe exactly the same things that my eyes saw.

This was twenty years before Bill Clinton (D) became President and started using each and every resource at his fingertips to push his own domestic agenda, often not even knowing what the resources were used for and what impact they would have on other programs. When Hillary Clinton was Secretary of State, it is well known that she surrounded herself with a large number of “special” women who were fiercely loyal to her.  Knowing what I do, I can’t help but muse about the source of this loyalty.

Focusing for the Probes

In order for us to best be able to use the probes and utilize their features, we needed to be able to access them.  To do this, we needed to be able to calm and center our mind.  And, to be able to do that, we need to be instructed to use the tools provided to do so.  The probes would not operate efficiently unless the brain and thoughts were “centered”.

There were numerous methods, but the one adopted by the US Navy was the “fiducial” method.

Learning How to Focus using the Triangular Feducials

The feducials in the cement blocks was a unique, but important element of the ELF program.   These symbols are used to center, focus and control the mind.

It is a simple and easy system. Throughout the United States are grey cement block buildings, walls, and other structures.  This is a universal and standardized building material in America.  This common building material is used as the focusing medium for the ELF program.  (This is not the case in other nations or countries.  There are different kinds of building materials, bricks, sheet panels, and other building elements too numerous to mention here.  But, in the USA the plain, unadorned, cement block is the most common building element.)

Feducials
The feducials were a shape that was embedded within a cement block. There were two different blocks. One had a basic triangular shape, and the other block had two triangular shapes.

There are two special cement blocks. They are placed side by side. The block on the left contains only one triangle. It is shaped into the mold used to create the block. It is not chiseled in. The second block on the right contains two triangles. One above the other. Each triangle is one inch long and 1 inch high. It is approximately 1/2 inch deep. The angles on the triangle are oriented in such a way that the left side edge is vertical.  And the other two edges of the triangle are at a 30 degree angles off from the horizontal. This is true for both blocks.

General feducial dimensions.
The above is the dimensions for the “two triangle” fiducial block. The feducials always use two blocks. There is a “single triangle” fiducial block and a “double triangle” fiducial black. The “single triangle” block is always placed to the physical left of the “double triangle” fiducial block. The dimensions are standardized and aside from the indentations in the blocks, they are just ordinary cast cement blocks. There are no embedded controls, antennas or electronics of any kind inside the blocks.

During the presentation, the seaman standing against the wall, would move his left hand in an open hand gesture to show the fiducial imprints that was being discussed.  He first pointed to the fiducial triangle in the left block.  Then, in short order he took a few steps and then pointed with his open hand to the two right fiducial triangles.  It was a simple method and very easy to understand.

You know, that might make a nice Tee-shirt. You could put a picture of the three triangles on the shirt. Maybe have it white on black.

Using the Focus Method

To use the feducial focusing method, you relax your vision. As you do so, the image blurs and the two images superimpose over each other. Such then it appears that there are three triangles in a straight line. One above each other. This is an important relaxation step. That is because the visual cortex has to be stabilized in order to properly operate the probes.

It wasn’t any more complicated than that.  To operate the probes, the mind must be relaxed by using the feducial triangle relaxation method.

The presentation ended, and the two seamen and their all-female audience left the building.  We three; Sebastian, myself and the Commander, walked forward past where the presentation was held and entered another door, which led into a wide well-lit hallway.  We followed the corridor for a few seconds and found ourselves in a wide open room.  He stepped out for a minute and returned with a Naval doctor and told us that we would be “in good hands”, and that he would return later to get us.

He then left us there.

Three Triangles as an Identification Nomenclature

One of the common identification nomenclatures between differing black project groups is the three triangle symbology.

Obviously, for us, the three triangle symbology refers to the indexing feducials used to focus our attention when entering the primary implantation facility. These symbols are always chiseled into the cement blocks of all facilities that have ELF transmitter access.   (The investigator will find these feducials in the basement walls of certain government and state buildings, intake barracks of prison facilities, military bases, and in certain secure agency buildings.)  In general, where there is a transmitter, the ‘software’ inside the implants can be accessed.

Typically, where a fiducial is found, a small localized transmitter is located inside a nearby locked closet.  Typically the closet has a heavy gauge door with secure hinges and high-security lock mechanisms.  The transmitter inside has its own breaker box, and is used to provide a kind of localized field (of which I can in no way describe) that is benefited by a person focusing on the feducials on the wall.

Always, without exception, we need to be activated under controlled conditions. Thus, the feducials are an important part of a mind relaxation technique to harmonize the mind. As such, those who are using the fiducial triangles to focus upon needs to do so in a secure, safe and private environment.  Typically, in many buildings, this can be achieved by accessing the feducials and transmitter after common working hours, or though the establishment of a safe area through locking the doors and providing a safe environment.

I do not know if this is the same reason that other black project participants identify themselves, but I suspect that it might be.

I make this statement because I know (from the doctor) that some of the other agencies and organizations get implanted and they also need to focus their minds to utilize the calibration routines for the probes.   If you are part of the highest levels of MAJestic, or part of one of the many specialized (associated) SAP programs you will be implanted.  If you are not implanted, the program that you were part of was NOT important enough.  (Although I do not know of the differences from the MAJestic probes and the probes of non-MAJestic operatives.)

What I do know is this.  Make no mistake. If you are a member of MAJestic, you will have the implants, and you WILL be able to use the “key” to access the “portal” door for MWI access and world-line egress.

It is well known that some alphabet groups use a triangle for membership identification.  This is most often shown on a ring with a triangle on it.  Some people state that this indicates allegiance with the illuminati.

The Illuminati (plural of Latin illuminatus, "enlightened") is a name given to several groups, both real and fictitious. Historically, the name refers to the Bavarian Illuminati, an Enlightenment-era secret society founded on May 1, 1776 to oppose superstition, prejudice, religious influence over public life, abuses of state power, and to support women's education and gender equality.  For the record, I have no opinion whether or not this group is still active at this time.

Some people claim that it belongs in association with other occult groups.  Still others believe that this is associated with secret societies.  Alternatively, they might claim that it represents “the all seeing eye”.

The Eye of Providence (or the all-seeing eye of God) is a symbol showing an eye often surrounded by rays of light or a glory and usually enclosed by a triangle. It is sometimes interpreted as representing the eye of God watching over humankind (or divine providence). In the modern era, the most notable depiction of the eye is the reverse of the Great Seal of the United States, which appears on the United States one-dollar bill.

I know nothing about all of that.  The conspiratorial theories that seem to propagate around the New World Order, and the triangle nomenclature are foreign to me.  I was never asked to join such an organization, nor was I ever exposed to any except peripherally.  As far as I am concerned, the similarity between the three triangle nomenclature and the secret society nomenclature is coincidental at best.

As a conspiracy theory, the term New World Order or NWO refers to the emergence of a totalitarian one-world government.  

The common theme in conspiracy theories about a New World Order is that a secretive power elite with a globalist agenda is conspiring to eventually rule the world. Their plan is to do so through an authoritarian world government which replaces sovereign nation-states. They manufacture this narrative through an all-encompassing propaganda agenda that ideologizes its establishment as the culmination of history's progress. 

Significant occurrences in politics and finance are speculated to be orchestrated by an unduly influential cabal operating through many front organizations. Numerous historical and current events are seen as steps in an on-going plot to achieve world domination through secret political gatherings and decision-making processes.

I do not consider myself a member of this or any related organization in any way.  Nor do I know factually if any of the NWO, and secret societies actually exist. While I do believe in conspiracies, and “the deep state”, I can offer no proof that it actually exists.

Next Phase

You can read about what happened after this short period of training. I wrote about it HERE.

I had to get my MAJestic probes installed. Then I needed to have a kit of extraterrestrial probes installed.

Take Aways

  • After I joined MAJestic, I participated in a lecture discussing “Special Access Programs” and probes.
  • The probes would be surgically inserted in our brains.
  • The probes controlled our memories, and possibly our emotions.
  • The probes acted as a kind of “key” that could open a special type of door or portal.
  • In order to utilize the probes, we needed to be trained to calm and center our mind.
  • The method we were trained to do so was the “Feducial” method.

FAQ

Q: What was the purpose of the young ladies there?
A: I do not know. We only shared the lecture with them. Later on we entered a ELF gateway center together. However, we all had different destinations.

Q: Can you enter the “gateway” without using the feducials?
A: Maybe you actually can. But, I wouldn’t want to try. The MWI is and can be quite dangerous. You might really mess up your brain in doing so. You really don’t want to take risks with technology that you know nothing about. Right?

Q: How do you know what the dimensions are for the feducials?
A: When I was in the ADC, at the Pine Bluff facility, as I entered my retirement, the feducials were right outside my cell. That floored me. I well remember walking up to the wall to see if they were real. I then measured them using my fingers to confirm the dimensions.

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

These are posts and articles that revolve around how I was recruited for MAJestic and my training. Also discussed is the nature of secret programs. I really do not know why the organization was kept so secret. It really wasn’t because of any kind of military concern, and the technologies were way too involved for any kind of information transfer. The only conclusion that I can come to is that we were obligated to maintain secrecy at the behalf of our extraterrestrial benefactors.

How to tell...

How to tell -2

Top Secrets

Sales Pitch

Feducial Training

Implantation

Probe Calibration - 1

Probe Calibration - 2

Leaving the USA

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

These particular posts are concerned about the universe that we are all part of. Being entangled as I was, and involved in the crazy things that I was, I was given some insight. This insight wasn’t anything super special. Rather it offered me perception along with advantage. Here, I try to impart some of that knowledge through discussion.

Enjoy.

Secrets of the universe
Alpha Centauri
Our Galaxy the Milky Way
Sirius solar system
Alpha Centauri
The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.
The Hammer inside the rock.
The Hollow Moon
The Mystery of the Lapulapu Ridge.
The Mystery of the Baltic UFO.
Mystery of the bronze bell.
Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.
Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?
The Oxia Palus Facility
Brown Dwarfs
Apollo Space Exploration
CARET
The Nature of the Universe
Type-1 Grey Extraterrestrial
The mysterious flying contraptions.

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

These posts are related to “reality slides”. Other more common terms are “world-line travel”, or the MWI. What people fail to grasp is that when a person has the ability to slide into a different reality (pass into a different world-line), they are able to “touch” Heaven to some extent. Here are posts that  cover this topic.

Cat Heaven
MWI
Things I miss
How MWI allows world-line travel.
An Observed World-Line switch.
Vehicular world-line travel
Soul is not consciousness.

John Titor Related Posts

Another person, collectively known by the identity of “John Titor” claimed to utilize world-line (MWI egress) travel to collect artifacts from the past. He is an interesting subject to discuss. Here we have multiple posts in this regard.

They are;

Articles & Links

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How Rocket Scientists Build Paper Airplanes

When I was attending university, my classmates and I would get drunk and fly paper airplanes. We were all studying engineering. Myself and my buddy Jay were both in a joint program where we studied Aerospace Engineering, while my buddy Peter studied Mechanical Engineering. All told, we had a significant amount of class overlap. As young college students, full of “piss and vinegar”, we would get into all sorts of trouble…

There in the dorms, we would launch our bottle rockets at paper airplanes that we would fly out the windows. The overall goal was to create a paper airplane that would stay aloft the longest. This was maintained by up-drafts and the design of the paper craft.

Let’s look at some of the design features that we incorporated into our tiny paper devices…

Weight and Balance

One of the most important considerations for aircraft (as well as munitions) is the ability for the airplane to be well balanced. This takes into account the center of gravity of the craft relative to the uplifting force on the wing design.

Imagine walking a tight-rope. If you had a large and robust body and butt, the center of gravity would be closer to the rope. Yet if you were tall and skinny with an enormous “pumpkin” head, the center of gravity would be further away from the rope. The distance between the center of gravity of the two body shapes would be different. The longer and taller person might have a more difficult time walking on the tight-rope than the fatter person.

In a like way, the center of gravity of a plane is important. There is a relationship between the center of gravity of the place, and the lift on the wings, as well as the propulsive force at the tail.

In general placing weight forward is desirable

Placing weight forward is desirable.

The place where the paper airplane balances on the tip of your finger is called the Center of Gravity (CG). This is the point of balance. In addition, for aircraft, there is a secondary point of balance. This is a specific CG position known as the Neutral Point. This point provides neutral pitch stability.

Center of gravity of an aircraft.
Balancing considerations of an aircraft. Illustration shows the center of gravity relative to the center of lift.

Here is the rule of thumb. If the airplane has a CG ahead of the Neutral Point, the plane is stable, if its behind this point its unstable.

As a matter of course, all airplanes without computer assisted flight controls need a CG ahead of their neutral point. Thus almost all airplanes prior to assisted flight controls (invented in the late 1970’s) were designed this way. I guess you could refer to it as a sort of “classical” aviation design.

For rectangular wings the neutral point is ¼ of the distance from the nose to the tail. For delta wings (such as the common dart paper airplane) the neutral point is ½ of the distance from the nose to the tail.

Stability

Stability means the plane, if disturbed, will return to its original state. This is a very important behavioral feature when there are fluid dynamics that alter flight regimes. In general, you want a stable plane. If you don’t have one, you will have a crash. That would really ruin your day.

For pitch stability it means the plane will seek a single airspeed.

A plane which is unstable in pitch will either pitch up into a stall, or nose dive, but won’t settle out anywhere in between. A stable airplane will tend to oscillate up and down a few times, but converge on a steady flight speed.

Many typical paper airplane designs are stable, but just… just… barely.

As a plane becomes more and more stable, it wants to fly faster and faster. To counter this tendency, up-elevator must be used to produce a good trim airspeed. This is why many of the classic paper airplane designs are nearly neutrally stable. Few people realize good pitch stability requires a heavy nose and some up-elevator.

Elevators are flight control surfaces, usually at the rear of an aircraft, which control the aircraft's pitch, and therefore the angle of attack and the lift of the wing. The elevators are usually hinged to the tailplane or horizontal stabilizer. They may be the only pitch control surface present, sometimes located at the front of the aircraft (early airplanes) or integrated into a rear "all-moving tailplane" also called a slab elevator or stabilator. 

-Wikipedia

The classic aircraft designs rely on the small inherent “up elevator” effect. This effect is known as a positive zero lift pitching moment. It is a direct result from the design of the wing. Often the primary factors are the swept wing, and possibly the airfoil shape.

The problem with paper airplanes is that they are initially designed without a up-elevator effect. Thus many classic paper airplanes are flown with no elevator adjustment. Sometimes they fly well, many times they don’t, and they always have poor stability.

To Improve the plane you incorporate an up-elevator effect

In general, the changes that one must make to a paper airplane to fly well are mostly the same adjustments which make hand launched gliders fly well.

Most people have the crazy idea that a good paper airplane needs no adjustments. You just simply fold up a piece of paper into the shape of an airfoil, and that all there is to it. You make the basic folds and then you are all finished.

This is really unfortunate.

All real airplanes have trim tabs that are used to make small adjustments to the plane. As such, it should be clear that all paper airplanes also need small adjustments to fly their best.

Elevators in an aircraft
The aircraft is typically “trimmed” to have it maintain balance and stability in flight. These features are called stabilizers, to well… stabilize the aircraft in flight.

Once, the paper airplane is properly balanced, the following suggestions might help the budding paper airplane designer in keeping their work of art in the air.

Anhedral Wing Design

One of the most common paper airplane mistakes is to leave the wings folded down at an angle. Don’t tell me that you don’t know what I am talking about. It is perhaps the most common way of making paper airplanes.

Folding the wings down along the side at an angle is called “anhedral” shape.

The problem with an anhedral wing design is that it reduces the lateral stability of your paper airplane. To combat this, you can have a different design and shape for the wings.  Instead of a anhedral wing, you can have one in a different shape.

Wing design types
Wing shape to include anhedral designs. For paper aircraft the wing design has a great deal of impact on the overall stability of the aircraft.

What you want is called “dihedral” wing design which is when the wing tips are the highest part of the wing. The resulting lateral stability will help keep your paper airplane flying straight. Or maybe, at the worst, in a gradual turn.

This is important, as a plane with lateral instability will tend to roll over on its back and crash. Alternatively, it might enter into an ever tightening spiral which becomes a spiraling dive. To prevent this, all you need remember is the simple rule; keep your wing tips up.

Keep your wing tips up.

Sideslip

A slip is an aerodynamic state where an aircraft is moving somewhat sideways as well as forward relative to the oncoming airflow or relative wind. In other words, for a conventional aircraft, the nose will be pointing in the opposite direction to the bank of the wing(s). The aircraft is not in coordinated flight and therefore is flying inefficiently. 

-Wikipedia

Technically dihedral provides a stabilizing rolling moment due to a condition known as sideslip.

It works like this, if the plane yaws to the left (positive sideslip), the right wing has a slightly increased angle of attack (AOA) because of the dihedral. As this is going on, the left wing’s AOA is decreased (this is most easily imagined if you think about 90 degrees of sideslip). As a result, the resulting rolling moment is to the left, which is stabilizing.

Slide slip on an aircraft.
Sideslip illustrated. Sideslip is created by the differences in the lift on the wings. It is a natural consequence of the flight regime and the design of the aircraft.

During a level turn, the yaw rate combined with the stabilizing yawing moment (due to yaw rate) results in a little bit of sideslip. The sideslip is positive for right turns, and negative for left turns.

That small amount of sideslip together with a stabilizing rolling moment due to sideslip (dihedral effect) results in the plane wanting to roll out of the turn. Which is exactly what we want.

With anhedral, the plane wants to roll into the turn, resulting in a “graveyard spiral”. This is something that we do not want. (Unless you are designing some kind of gravity directed munition…)

Graveyard spiral.
Graveyard spin compared to graveyard spiral. Image credit to FAA.

Now, to understand this tendency; the movement to roll into or out of a turn is called the “spiral mode”.  This mode is controlled mainly using dihedral.

Most real airplanes have to limit the amount of dihedral they use to keep the Dutch roll mode (which is a rapid left and right oscillation), under control. While dihedral makes the spiral mode more stable, it reduces the damping of the Dutch roll.

Dutch Roll
Here is a visualization of a dutch roll from both a bird’s eye view and a head-on view. The oscillation movement can clearly be seen.

You probably won’t have any Dutch roll problems with paper airplanes.  This is likely due to increased yaw rate and roll rate damping that is associated with low airspeeds.

Because of this,  all paper airplanes should be flown with plenty of dihedral.

Paper airplanes should be designed with plenty of dihedral.

Up-Elevator

You should add a tiny amount of up elevator to the classic pointed nose paper airplanes. This will make sure they don’t dive on you.

If you have the time and materials, you might want to add a few layers of tape or (maybe) a paper clip to the nose of the plane to improve its stability.

Paperclip on the airplane
The placement of a paperclip on a paper airplane can be used to move the center of gravity about on the plane. By adjusting the location of the paperclip, the stability of the plane can be improved.

Most “square” paper airplanes have plenty of weight in the nose, and require some up elevator to fly well. The amount of up elevator needed on a paper airplane is a pretty good indicator of its pitch stability.

So, when you build a paper airplane (of any kind) and place a paper clip on the nose. You need to go ahead and take it out for a few flights. Go ahead, make a few flights to determine the best amount of up elevator that is needed.

Now give it a few flights and see how it performs.  Practice by moving the weight back slightly. Move it back a few cm, maybe a half an inch or so. Then try again.  Keep on doing this. Experiment. See how the weight adds to the stability of the air plane.

The amount of up elevator needed is reduced, and the plane becomes more sensitive to elevator adjustments. Now, take note. When the paper clip has been moved back to a point where you are using nearly no elevator deflection, and you can’t get the plane to fly well, there is a reason. What is going on, is you have the CG at the neutral point (try to balance the plane on a finger, the point where it balances is the neutral point).

Airfoil shape

Contrary to what many people might think, airplane wings are not flat sheets of metal. They are curved.  Which means that they are “Cambered”.  Being cambered can be explained that if you took a cross section of the wing, it would look like a tear drop  shape. In general, the top of the airfoil is rounded and the bottom is kept fairly flat.

That being said, paper airplane wings must be thin to work well.

Overall, the wings on the paper airplane need very little camber. Now, generally any curvature is limited to the front portion of the wing.

Cambered wing.
The cambered wing is designed to create areas of high and low pressure when air moves on the surface of the camber.

Generally, because most paper airplanes look a lot like “flying wings”,  only small amounts of camber are practical.  Now, large amounts of camber create nose down pitching moments which need tails to balance.

Hints and Tricks

Try to use a little curvature at the leading edge of the wing. You can use a pencil to round up the leading edges. You really do not need to have a fully cambered airfoil shape on a paper airplane. Typically, paper airplane performance is not noticeably degraded with flat, un-cambered airfoils. You know, the reason for this is likely due to low Reynolds numbers.

Reynolds number
Movement of a fluid over a surface. The Reynolds number is the relationship between velocity, and the properties of the gas (or liquid) as a function of the shape of the surface.

To keep the paper airplane aloft for as long as possible, we need a turbulent boundary layer. Which is to say that the air is mixed up and confused; turbulent. We have to keep in mind that that a large portion of the boundary layer across the front of the wing is laminar flow, but for high lift we need a turbulent boundary layer.

Conclusion

I like to think that the most efficient way to learn is through play. As such, I agree with Fred Rogers. Play is the “work” for children.  We learn how to become adults, socialize, think and build things through play.

Syracuse University Quad
The Syracuse University QUAD. It is the center of the university. As under graduates we would cross this area on our way to and from classes and the dorms.

While we were attending classes in aerospace engineering, it was our “hand’s on” play with paper aircraft that provided a visceral understanding of the basics of flight within the earth’s atmosphere. As such, I have never forgotten such adventures.

Of course, as young men, we were preoccupied in a mix of pursuits that all college boys engage in. Beer, girls, cigars and building paper airplanes (and shooting them down) ranked high on our enjoyable endeavors. I wanted to shot them down with BB guns, but my liberal friends wouldn’t have any of that. However, they had no problems with fireworks, and bottle rockets. Combined, we would tend to get drunk, make experimental paper aircraft designs which we would launch, and then subsequently try to shoot down using manually targeted bottle rockets.

In the process we improved both our aviation design skills, as well as our understanding of basic rocket ballistics. We would chug down a beer as a reward for downing a paper airplane in flames. As I recall, we would also quaff down a beer if we had a close miss… Now, that I think about it, we also drank a beer if we missed by a long shot.

Maybe that is why we were always so drunk after trying to shoot down the airplanes…

Takeaways

  • The building of paper airplanes can teach the basics of aviation design.
  • Play is an efficient technique to learn.
  • Those bottle rockets that lit up the sky decades ago over the Syracuse University campus were actually anti-paper airplane projectiles.
  • Physical science isn’t really all that complicated. People tend to use knowledge to obtain power and respect, instead of sharing for mutual benefit.
  • Never discount the importance or value of fun.
  • Don’t be a “purist”, paper airplanes can incorporate staples, paperclips, tape, glue, cardboard, and other features that could improve the design.

FAQ

Q:  Why did you want to shoot down the paper airplanes?
A: We were drunk and at the time, it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. We started with some bottle rockets that one of our friends had. We became so enraptured with the concept that it became a semi-regular event. It was often done surreptitiously in the dark night. We would launch them from the windows in the day room of the dorm where all my friends lived.

Q:  How did you get started in making paper airplanes at university?
A: My friend Peter was always fiddling with his hands. For a while, he began to start making paper airplanes. Over the months together, we started playing with them. We put them in races, and tried to find out how long that they would stay aloft.
Q:  Did you ever get into trouble for launching bottle rockets?
A: Not me personally, but there were complaints. It was certainly against campus rules, but the rest of the dorm were either too stoned to complain, or too busy studying to notice. At that time, there weren’t too many busybodies on campus. People had a Laissez-faire attitude about life. It was best summed up as “live and let live”. So you could pretty much live your life on your terms, within limits of course. That is totally unlike today, where the campuses are populated with busybodies, and crybabies that are easily offended about everything.

American universities today.
American universities today are “safe spaces” where everyone can get offended by the slightest remark. It is Orwell gone amok. It’s a pretty bad situation. I, for one, am glad that I am not attending university today.

Q:  Do you still make and fly paper airplanes?
A:  No.  Occasionally, I make one to two to amuse a child, but that is the extent of it.
Q:  Did you ever make paper airplanes out of aluminum foil?
A:  No, but it is an interesting concept. If the foil is thick enough it might lend itself to some interesting wing designs.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Compiled 19JUL18.
  2. Completed 20JUL18.
  3. SEO review and Release 20JUL18.

How to Build Up Your Life from Nothing.

Here are my thoughts on what a young man can do to build up his life when he exits school. It does not matter if the school is college, High School, or elementary school. There comes a point in time when you need to make the transition from a student to a worker.

Everyone has their thoughts on this. Here are mine.

...And I had so many misconceptions about how the world worked. For  example, I thought that in any… Because I had seen it in other fields. I  thought that if you are successful in a particular line of work, a  particular area, that everybody in that area kind of acknowledges it,  recognizes it, and respects it and welcomes you in? Ho-ho-ho. Is that  ever not true! 

-Rush Limbaugh

What Can we do?

If you are a millennial, and you do want to work and provide a living, but cannot. There is some hurdle in the way; some problem. Maybe you don’t even know what it is. You have zero guidance. It’s just a big blank slate.

What to do?

(laughing) It turns out it’s the exact opposite. I was a fool. I was  so naive about things. Now, it didn’t take me long to figure it all out,  but I wish I would have known some of it before I began this... 

Nobody that I knew was able to tell me how to deal with it, how to  respond to it, how to deflect it, how to ignore it, whatever to do.  Nobody told me. 

 -Rush Limbaugh 

Here is what you do. You need to seek out help and advice. Do not try to do it on your own. Ask for help. Keep asking until someone helps you. People will brush you off. Ignore them. Get answers get help.

Do not be passive about it. Ask for help. Go to different people. Go one by one. Keep on trying. Keep going until you have someone willing to help you.

via GIPHY

Don’t try to do it the hard way, on your own. Seek guidance. Go to a favorite uncle. Ask your father, or your grandfather. Ask. Never be afraid to ask.

Go to a crowded barber shop and ask. You will hear all kinds of bullshit, but through all that bullshit, you will find one or two men who will genuinely offer help and suggestions.

Talk with other men. Heck, I am always willing to take hardworking people under my wing.

I spent three days a week for 10 years educating myself in the public library, and it's better than college. People should educate themselves - you can get a complete education for no money. At the end of 10 years, I had read every book in the library and I'd written a thousand stories.

-Ray Bradbury

Education

All my life I was taught, by my father, to get a good education. That education will in turn, enable me to get a “great job”. In which case, I will be “set for life” because I would be valuable to the person employing me.

Hogwash.

It sucks working for another person. That person, can and will tell you how to live your life, and will hold your family income over your head like the sword of Damocles. They will use you as they feel fit and discard you when they are through with you.

Some experiences I had…

  • Working 1.5 hours every day, all week, but only during the busy time of the day. They wanted 150% efficiency from me, and nothing else.
  • When I won a round trip airline ticket to Europe for the weekend, my boss told me that if I used it that he would fire me.
  • Time and time again, I was let go… fired with ZERO notice. Three times it was on a Christmas eve. Once, in Shreveport, it was a half-an-hour after I received my award for “Best Employee of the Month”.
  • Having my monthly salary cut to zero because a co-worker made a mistake.

Listen up!

Education serves but one, and only one purpose.

That purpose is to give you advantage. If you do not get anything or any advantage, then that education has zero benefit to you.

  Jay started off by asking the crowd if it was weird for them to be  listening to a speech by him, since he had never attended university. To  him, being extraordinary and to be able to stand in front of everyone  does not depend on how much one has studied, but rather, if he has a  strong skill set. He named a few of his peers who did not study much,  but whose work have been taught in university classes.

 Advice: Having a particular skillset that you are good at is more important than how much you study. 

-Five Lessons form Jay Chou

Money gives you Ability

A young man needs to work. He needs to carve out his life, and do it on his terms. That takes money.

The first thing you need to do is get a job; any job. Start getting money into your pocket.

Start putting money in your wallet.

Keep in mind that the hardest and most unpopular jobs pay the best. That might mean that you might need to wash windows in a skyscraper. You might need to crawl inside of a railroad container car and scrub it out. You might need to empty industrial waste, or scrub toxic biological germs out of a hospital. You might need to work from three in the morning to seven in the morning cleaning up an office building. You might need to shovel pig shit, or determine the sex of chickens (you shove your pinky in the rectum of a chicken).

It doesn’t matter what you do. Work. Get some money and save it.

Save the money you earn. You will need it later.

Humphry Bogart as Dobbs
Don’t be under the impression that I had it easy. I actually lived in a van for a number of years. I starved, and lived off of onions and mustard packets. I worked at jobs and had my pay stolen by the managers. Life can be difficult, but a man endures. Even so while everyone around him laughs.

Don’t be under the impression that I didn’t do what I had to do. I did the ugly stuff, and the difficult stuff, and I smiled when I did it too. That’s life.

You will come home with blood-blisters on your hands, and so tired that your hands shake. You deal with it. Your neck might be so sunburned from the hot sun that when you put on a shirt the searing pain might cause you to pass out. Your hands might be so covered with oil and grease that it would be impossible to clean them entirely. The gasoline stains in your clothes might be so terrible that they never come out. Your girlfriend might want sex, but you are too tired to service her. Hey, that is life, if you are a man. That is what real work is.

The entire time while you are working and saving, plan. Remember that you are a Man. You plan.

Men plan, and map out the life that they will live.

Plan on how you can use that money to improve your work situation. Don’t fall into the corporate trap; you get a good high-paying job and plateau. That is a trap that you will never get out of. Don’t use the money to enhance your life. That you can hold off for a year or two. Just concentrate on a real (short) intense period of making your life happen.

Plan.

Keep going forward. Some days it will seem that you are hardly making any progress. Ignore that. Just keep going. Do not give up.

via GIPHY

Keep this in mind. You need to do is understand that everything around you is fake. The news is fake (unless you are still part of the 0.000001% who still thinks that Donald Trump is a Russian spy). The food is fake. The taxes and the promises of what they will be used for is… fake. You are in the world. Fight for what you need. Fight, and don’t give up. You will make it.

  1. The first and most important thing that a young person can do today is to make money.
  2. This is your task. Find a way to put money into your pocket. Then once you get that money HOLD ON TO IT.
  3. Money can be easily squandered. Do not let that happen to you. You get the money, and you stash it away safely.

Do not follow the Herd

No. Don’t follow the herd.

Do not do what the rest of the people are doing.  You ONLY what will benefit YOU. Life is not a some-size-fits-all. You take the opportunities as they present themselves to you. If college will help you achieve your goals, then go do it. If it doesn’t then do something else.

 Growing up, Jay realized that he wasn’t one for studying hard.  Instead of fighting that, he chose to pursue his interests of learning  to play the piano and basketball.

 If not for his interest in piano and music, he wouldn’t have ended up  where he is today. If not for his interest in basketball, he wouldn’t  have ended up filming “Kung Fu Dunk”. The interests he had when he was  younger made him who he is today, but he could only connect those dots  looking backwards. 

 Advice: Pursue your interests and life will take care of itself. 

-Five lessons from Jay Chou

When I went to college, it was at a time when only a handful of people could attend. The education was valuable and you could obtain a job based on your studious efforts. That is not the case today.

Everyone can go.

Today everyone can go to college. As such, you just become a debt-serf in the process. Today, we really need to see if this is what is in your best interests. Are you willing to become a debt-serf and give a huge percentage of any money you earn to a bank AFTER you give a huge percentage of your money to the government in taxes? Think about it. College might not be right for YOU.

Take a good long and hard look at what your options are. Only go to college if there is a very strong chance that you can benefit from it. Otherwise, I would suggest some other avenue of approach.

Bogart and the Mexicans
A man strives and moves forward no matter what the dangers are. For people WILL certainly see your poverty and youth as a weakness. They will take advantage of you. But move forward anyways.

Today, I look at my High School classmates. You know, the ones that I went to school with a half a century ago.

Today, the rich ones are actually the ones who started their own stores, gas stations, laundromats, and tie-dyed tee-shirt shops. These were the “average” kids in school. They just started a simple business. They worked at it. Rain, or shine. Now they are all quite wealthy. They are, and have always been, their own bosses.

Meanwhile, the smart ones, those of us who attended college, are “professionals”.  Like me, I suppose. Yeah. However, the fact is that we generally live “hand-to-mouth” at the whims of market forces. Without a doubt,  our employers often don’t give a “Rat’s ass” about our lives. Up-sized, laid off, down sized, restructured, renegotiated positions… it’s all the same. It sucks to be a worker for someone else.

Do NOT be like me. Be your own boss.

Options:

  • Learn a TRADE; plumbing, electricity, construction…
  • Join the military; Coast Guard, Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force…Join a Union
  • Apprentice
  • Take over a Family Business
  • Start you own business
  • Community College
  • Crash courses and take night classes while you work
  • Work with key friends and start a business

College and Universities are now flooded with people, thus diluting the job pool. Further they teach you how to work for someone else. You become a well-taught monkey, or an obedient drone in a big, big mega-corporation.

You will NEED to be an exceptional person to survive the market trends when you leave college. Instead, consider using the four years (normally reserved for college) to strike out on your own, and give you advantage.

That’s the key. That’s the secret.

You need ADVANTAGE.

Dobbs looking for gold.
Life can be really hard, especially when it seems like everyone else is doing better than you. Do not be fooled. many are not. They are just wearing the necessary masks and driving around in rented machines. Don’t fall for that illusion. You are a man. Stand up and carve out your life.
'Imagine you're at a concert, and you stand up to see better. Now imagine if everybody stands up.'

I already did imagine that which is why I didn't purchase a $100 concert ticket, and I instead purchased the album and stayed home.

-MusicIsYou

Here are some ideas on how to obtain advantage

Be Positive and Kind

The world is full or grouchy old stogies like myself, and young bucks that haven’t a clue. Don’t be like us. The secret of success in this world is an open heart and a willingness to learn. Be kind, and everything will work out.

Turn off the news. It’s full of bullshit.

Tone down the social media. Most people on it, you wouldn’t want to share a pizza with, so why waste your time chatting with them? Shut off your negative friends. Life is too short.

Put only good stuff in your body. That is the stuff that you like, and to hell with everyone else. Don’t listen to anyone else. Follow your heart.

Dobbs on his own.
Life can be unfair. Everyone will tell you that you are wrong. Everyone will tell you what a fool you are and how hopeless your dream is. Do not believe them.

That means good food, good water, good thoughts and surround yourself with the good in his world.

For the longest time, especially when I was down and the world seemed to be against me, I would listen to motivational tapes. Listen to Les Brown. Keep your outlook positive. Follow your dream. Do not get sidetracked. Follow it.

“If you take responsibility for yourself you will develop a hunger to accomplish your dreams.”
 Les Brown

Follow you dream. Do not allow anyone to tell you that you cannot have it.

My background was from my time. This is YOUR time, and you are a direct result of it. It is neither right nor wrong. It is just simply what it is.

As such, you need to make the most of it.

There is one important step that you need to take to claim this as yours; be kind.

Be a Man

Bronco Billy is living his dream.
Be like Bronco Billy. Live your dream. You don’t have to be a poor shoe salesman in New York city. You can recreate your life into something that appeals to you. Don’t be afraid. Follow your dream.

In a cutthroat world, it is refreshing to meet a man who keeps his word, looks another in the eye, shakes your hand solidly and says what he means. You can choose to be the man that you want to be, or you can be the image of what others want you to be. It’s your choice.

If you don’t know what I am talking about, watch the movie “Bronco Billy”. Learn from it.

  • Speak with integrity.
  • Say only what you mean.
  • Never say anything negative about yourself.
  • Never say anything bad about anyone else.
  • Never be afraid of hurting someone else’s feelings. That’s their problem.

Start today. Start NOW.

Bronco Billy.
We can reinvent our life. Do what Bronco Billy did. You can define your life on your terms, by doing things YOUR WAY. Don’t let others tell you who you are. You do it.

Act like an American

I like to say, “Act like an American”, but over the years this saying has turned into a insult. I blame socialist progressives rewriting the narrative. Never the less, when I suggest that you “Act like an American” I mean this…

The American's creed.
What being an American actually means. You know the internet has rewritten what the American’s creed is. Now, it has been rewritten to be something much different. It is now a pale reflection. Go to Wikipedia and read the new “politically correct” rewritten version. Sad. I really hate how the internet is being used to rewrite history. This rewrite you can blame President Obama on. The Americans Creed (Image Source.)

If you, the reader, are unaware of the saying and what it means then I strongly suggest that you have been propagandized and manipulated by a false narrative and bogus history. Isn’t it great about the internet? You can rewrite anything when you control the history books!

Ha! What are you? (Are you) a socialist puppet parroting the common narrative or a free man living life on your terms? You choose. Be the parrot, or be who YOU are.

If you want to carve out your life, then you will need to saw off those chains that limit you.

Do not take anything personally

Which brings me up to this important point; don’t take anything personally.

 Jay never took failure as an acceptable outcome. When the songs he  wrote for other artists were rejected, he used them and sang them  himself. Several of those songs have become instant hits with people and  fans around the world.
 
 Advice: Be the best in your field; do not give in to failure. 

-Five lessons from Jay Chou

Nothing that other people do is because of you. When another person does something, they do it, based on their decisions. They make those decisions based on their knowledge, emotions and personality. If you had any role in it, it would have been a terribly tiny one.

via GIPHY

When others blame you, know that they are just using rhetoric . It is a technique to manipulate you. It is a technique used to control you. It plays with your emotions and often results in things that are not in your favor. Do not believe them.

Stay away from people who blame you, condemn you, and make your life miserable. Real men avoid them. Be a real man. You know guys, sometimes you need to cut off an arm when bitten by a rattlesnake.

Don’t make Assumptions

For you to be successful, you will need to be able to communicate.

If you don’t know something, ask. If you want something, ask for it. If there is something that you need, communicate.

You need to have the courage to ask questions and express what you need. You need to do so clearly. Otherwise, you risk misunderstanding and drama.

Remember this; if you do not ask the answer will always be no.

  • If you want a job, ask for it.
  • If you like a girl and want to be with her, ask her out for lunch.
  • If you want a raise, ask for it.
  • If you want an extra straw for your soda, ask for it.
  • If you want to  live in a nice house, ask about it.

Take note that some people enjoy drama, and will pretend not to understand you. It is a form of manipulation. Avoid these people. They have nothing to offer you.

Go to Church

If you read some of my other posts, you might be surprised in this. Yet it is true. We need religion and ritual. We need to connect with a higher power and a higher sense of purpose. We need God.

This isn’t an option. We as human beings need, NEED, God in our life.

Keep on walking.
Have faith. Things will change. You just need to keep on going. As the saying goes… “When you are going through Hell… keep on walking.”

You might have the entire world up against you. You might be dirt poor. You might be alone and full with negative people. You might be starving, but there is one place where you will be welcome NO MATTER WHAT. Go to church.

Go to church.

I’m not going to preach to you. I just suggest that you go to a place that will not judge you. I suggest you go to a place that will welcome you with open arms.

If I would be so bold, I would suggest an “Assembly of God”. They tend to be very open to new faces. I have attended a wonderful Baptist church in Corpus Christi, and a fantastic Methodist church in Erie.

You might need to “shop around”, but go and seek out a church for yourself. There are churches full of busybodies, and churches that are just “old”. Go to a church that has life, one that is full of people in your age group.

Maybe the church of your parents just doesn’t fit you, well do not let that limit you. Explore and try to understand. God is greater than any of us. Give yourself up and meet others who are exactly like you.

I suggest that you go to church, worship God and join the community there. You might be surprised what you will find there.

Do your Best

By doing your best, you can accept failure.

You will find out that your “best” is going to change from minute to minute. There will be days when you are super healthy and will be able to take on the world, and then there will be days when you cannot. It will be different when you are healthy as opposed when you are sick. If you know that you did everything you could at the time, then you know that your defeat was beyond your ability (at that time).

Under any and all circumstances, simply do your best.

Do your best. Keep trying. Keep on doing your best. You will make mistakes. You will face failures. You will hear from everyone else telling you that you were a fool, a dupe, a rube, and just plain stupid. It doesn’t matter. Just keep doing your best.

Don’t believe them.

The successful people NEVER tell you this. This is what unsuccessful people say. When these losers tell you that you have failed, do what I do. I recite a poem, snort quietly (with disdain), smile, and leave. Never look back. Don’t pause no matter what they say to your back. Just leave.

They usually stand there perplexed not understanding what just transpired.

It's going to be okay.

The formula for individual success is well proven and documented. Do not give up. Keep to your plan. Keep working it. Avoid distractions and keep moving forward. It will be alright. It will work out fine. Things will be ok.

No Excuses

via GIPHY

"We have been destroying most of the chances any young White Male has to get ahead for decades. I especially like how old men will talk about how they made it with nothing in their pocket and traveling to a new city when they were young. 

I always think "Ya try that today". I am an X'r myself and I can see how much easier I had it over these kids today. Sure the bright top 1% still manage but we have placed so many blockers in front of young White Men these days it's a wonder they haven't turned on us by now."

-Beltain

Do not use any excuses for anything. Forget about race. Forget about ability. Forget about what other people are doing. Forget what your friends say. Forget it all.

Do not compare yourself to anyone or anything. Focus on one thing at a time. Focus like a laser beam, and don’t give up

Never give up.

via GIPHY

Never. Ever. Ever. Ever. E.V.E.R. give up. Fight for what you want.

Be a MAN.

Fight, and fight, and fight, and fight.

When it gets hard, keep it up. Don’t give up. No excuses.

Be the robot that will never give up. You get punched down, and you get right back up and keep on fighting.

Fight. Fight HARD. Never give up.

Be the robot that never gives up.
The movie “Real Steel” is about many things, but here it is the story of the little underdog robot that would never give up. It just went out there, into the ring. Time and time again, it would go out and fight…fight…fight. It never gave up. Be that robot.

Even if you are on your knees, and are being pummeled left and right, keep it up. Don’t give up.

Keep fighting.

Fight until you cannot. As you lie there, blood running from between your smashed teeth, open your one swollen eye, push yourself up off the floor. And keep on fighting.

Never give up. Never Surrender.

While this was a catch phrase on a movie parody of Star Trek it resonate in that there are many disguised truths protrayed within it. Never give up and never surrender is one such truth.
You must never give up. Never surrender.

The girl says no.

You ask her out again. She might say no, yet again.

Wait a day or two. Ask her out again.

Don’t be a stalker. Just be nice and friendly. Tell her that you like her and you just want to share a coffee or a meal and talk. Expect nothing else. Keep on trying.

Keep trying.

Never give up.

Sometimes it works. I asked a girl out every day for two weeks before she finally went out with me. 

We’ve been married 51+ years.

-chaosagent

Aside from obtaining your goals and objectives, you might find that your ability to get what you desire is extremely attractive to the opposite sex.

Worked for my son-in-law. He asked my daughter out...she said no, he would wait a month or so and ask again. 

She said the reason she did not want to date him is he was over confident to the point she thought he was “cocky” and she didn’t like men like that. 

One day she said yes, after she dated him she realized he was not a jerk just confident. 

Today they are happily married with a son. 

-Tammy8

Don’t be a wimp. Be a fighter.

via GIPHY

Opportunity

By being “out there” and trying, your efforts WILL be noticed.

You can say that others might notice, or you can say that the “spirits” will notice. Whatever. You will be noticed, and opportunity comes from hard work.

Opportunities arise from effort.

When an opportunity does come up, give it EVERYTHING you have. It will come. It will probably be unexpected, and will not be what you intended. It doesn’t matter. Treat each opportunity as exactly what it is and grab it like a starving dog with a bone. Hold on and don’t ever let go of it.

via GIPHY

Do your best. You must. Come in early, work better faster and harder than everyone else. Don’t complain. Smile a lot. Be the best worker that you can be. Be the best;  get so good at your job that you are “invaluable”. Become important in your role.

When we were kids my mom and dad ran a little business. We weren’t poor, but neither were we rich. 

When I turned 14 my father informed me that I would be working there during the summer and every school holiday. He made sure to give me the worst possible jobs at the lowest possible pay. 

At the time I hated him for it. 

After he died I took over the company, and by then I’d learned the value of a hard won dollar and an honest days work, so I was unspeakably grateful for what he’d done. 

He was a depressed, miserable, and cranky old bastard, and he was one of the best teachers a man could ever have. 

-Three Economic Lessons I Learned from my Dad

Again. Do your best.

You must.

Come in early, work better faster and harder than everyone else.

Don’t complain.

Smile a lot.

Be the best worker that you can be. Be the best;  get so good at your job that you are “invaluable”.

Become important in your role.

My company just hired this new 18 year old kid, a real go-getter, always getting up on your grill asking meaningful and relevant questions and actually trying to learn the trade. He's always watching to see how you do things and then wanting (if not demanding!) a crack at it himself. 

That's one thing I don't mind a young kid demanding: go for it dude, I sense that you've watched me enough and can do it to a quality standard. 

At the end of the day I don't even have to ask the kid to grab a broom, he just sweeps and packs up tools. He'll really work out. Says he's saving to buy a house and, you know what, he'll have it by the time he's 21 or so without all the college debt and the brainwashed mind.

-Zero Hedge comment by Mazzy

Make the person who gave you that opportunity feel good about you. Doors will open wider for you.

via GIPHY

Role Models

My dad was a great, flawed, successful failure of a man who taught me many things. He loved us but he was mean, he took care of us but he was cheap, he was fun to be around and a nightmare. He was social but had hangups, he divorced my mom but never abandoned us. He was a showman, a curmudgeon, a viper, a friend, an enemy. A complicated man who enjoyed simple things. About as easy to understand as a rubic's cube.

I miss that magnificent bastard.

-Three Lessons in Economics that I Learned from my Dad

You should have a good role model to emulate. I am not talking about fictional characters like Tony Sopranos, or Rocky Balboa. I am talking about real flesh and blood individuals who lived life on their terms. I for one, admire the “Rat Pack”. But you can decide who you would like to emulate.

You are your own boss.
Find a guide. A sure way to get lost in the woods is to explore an unknown area without a guide. In business, find a mentor to guide you through the wilderness.  

What ever you do, don’t be a raunchy playboy like Justin Bieber, or some metro-sexual like Barrack Obama.

Choose someone who defines life on their own terms. Like, perhaps, that fellow who landed on the beach on D-Day wearing a kilt and carrying a broad sword. Or, maybe like this man. Here is a man who lived life to the fullest. I can only wish that someone would write up my biography with such amazing aplomb.

Irishman Dies from Stubbornness, Whiskey  14DEC16

Chris conners
The late, great, Chris Conners.
Chris Connors died, at age 67, after trying to box his bikini-clad hospice nurse just moments earlier. Ladies man, game slayer, and outlaw Connors told his last inappropriate joke on Friday, December 9, 2016, that which cannot be printed here. 

Anyone else fighting ALS and stage 4 pancreatic cancer would have gone quietly into the night, but Connors was stark naked drinking Veuve in a house full of friends and family as Al Green played from the speakers. 

The way he died is just like he lived: he wrote his own rules, he fought authority and he paved his own way. And if you said he couldn’t do it, he would make sure he could.

Most people thought he was crazy for swimming in the ocean in January; for being a skinny Irish Golden Gloves boxer from Quincy, Massachusetts; for dressing up as a priest and then proceeding to get into a fight at a Jewish deli. 

Many gawked at his start of a career on Wall Street without a financial background – but instead with an intelligent, impish smile, love for the spoken word, irreverent sense of humor, and stunning blue eyes that could make anyone fall in love with him.

As much as people knew hanging out with him would end in a night in jail or a killer screwdriver hangover, he was the type of man that people would drive 16 hours at the drop of a dime to come see. 

He lived 1000 years in the 67 calendar years we had with him because he attacked life; he grabbed it by the lapels, kissed it, and swung it back onto the dance floor. 

At the age of 26 he planned to circumnavigate the world – instead, he ended up spending 40 hours on a life raft off the coast of Panama. 

In 1974, he founded the Quincy Rugby Club. In his thirties, he sustained a knife wound after saving a woman from being mugged in New York City. 

He didn’t slow down: at age 64, he climbed to the base camp of Mount Everest. Throughout his life, he was an accomplished hunter and birth control device tester (with some failures, notably Caitlin Connors, 33; Chris Connors, 11; and Liam Connors, 8).

He was a rare combination of someone who had a love of life and a firm understanding of what was important – the simplicity of living a life with those you love. 

Although he threw some of the most memorable parties during the greater half of a century, he would trade it all for a night in front of the fire with his family in Maine. 

His acute awareness of the importance of a life lived with the ones you love over any material possession was only handicapped by his territorial attachment to the remote control of his Sonos music.

Chris enjoyed cross dressing, a well-made fire, and mashed potatoes with lots of butter. His regrets were few, but include eating a rotisserie hot dog from an unmemorable convenience store in the summer of 1986.

Of all the people he touched, both willing and unwilling, his most proud achievement in life was marrying his wife Emily Ayer Connors who supported him in all his glory during his heyday, and lovingly supported him physically during their last days together.

Absolut vodka and Simply Orange companies are devastated by the loss of Connors. A “Celebration of Life” will be held during Happy Hour (4 p.m.) at York Harbor Inn on Monday, December 19.

Amen Chris. Amen.

Alternative Path

Here is another opinion by another person. He has a similar point of view as mine, and I present it here for you, the reader, to enjoy.

January 9, 2019

Kim du ToitAdvice, Business, Guy Stuff, Men & Women

I have often ruminated that young men need to evaluate their career choices very carefully before picking the one they think will work best for them.

Increasingly, it’s become apparent that going to college is not a worthwhile option for them — unless they want to be hounded, harassed and vilified just for the “crime” of being a man, that is.  (10,000 instances of false accusations, man-hating professors and the courses they teach have been omitted on grounds of brevity.)

Now, we’ve seen in other spheres what men do when they feel that the game rules are loaded against them, or that participation leads not only to inevitable failure, but even to a compromised future.  The dating game is one such activity, where men have either deliberately turned the rules of the game against women and used them to their own benefit — or have simply eschewed all participation in the face of assured failure (going their own way — MGTOW) and simply created a parallel life outside the game.

I’m suggesting an alternative to the career game.

Don’t go to college, at least until the rotten system has collapsed under the weight of its own prejudice and misogyny misandry, and been replaced with a better deal.  Ignore the vested interests of people and institutions who preach the lie that you can only be successful with a college degree.

If you’re super-smart and driven like Michael Dell or Bill Gates, of course, you don’t need to be told this.  But only a very few men, in any  activity, are in that rare 0.00001% of super-achievers.

But for the vast remainder, there is an option:  work in industries where the vast majority of women can’t or won’t participate.  I’m talking about the heavy, dirty and sometimes thankless jobs (Mike Rowe-type Dirty Jobs) which not only don’t require a college degree, but where a college degree might even be a hindrance and not a qualifier.

Just last week I came across a guy who was an oil field worker.  He’d fled from Venezuela right after that thug Hugo Chávez came to power, and in the eighteen years since had worked his way up the ladder, in oilfields all over the world.  Now, at age 45, he’d finally reached the point where he didn’t have to work  the oil rigs, just visit them and see how things were going.  Along the way he’d acquired a wife, two preteen kids, and a $750k house in Plano where I picked him up to take him to the airport.  He’d completely lost his Hispanic accent (when he left Venezuela he couldn’t speak a word of English) and was also fluent in Arabic and (ahem) German.  When I asked him if he had a university degree he just laughed and said, “What for?”

What for, indeed.

Here’s the point.  I know it’s going to be difficult for Millennials and their successors to handle this, but working dirty jobs is hard.  It requires dedication, stubbornness and of course a willingness to get one’s hands dirty, and sadly, because of the education industry’s indoctrination of kids, this choice is often dismissed or demeaned.

It shouldn’t be.  If you weigh the eventual benefits of dirty work — where, by the way, your exposure to militant feminism is going to be minimal to nonexistent — against a useless degree coupled with crippling debt, this should not be a difficult decision.

Is this risky?  Not as much as you’d think.  Just the other day, our local community college broke ground on a campus which apparently is going to be dedicated almost exclusively to the “hard” careers — automotive service and repair, construction, welding, plumbing, electrical work, manufacturing and so on — but I’m not going to suggest you look to such an institution for your education / training;  what’s important is simply to realize that for such an event to have taken place, there must be a crippling shortage of young men willing to get into those fields, and this is the Establishment’s attempt to address it.  (It’s complete bollocks, of course — you’d do better by getting an apprenticeship at a real place of work.)

So, in the paraphrased words of Ayn Rand, go “Galt” and make your own way in the world.  You may not succeed, of course, but remember that failure is equally (or, in these times, more) likely with a freshly-printed college diploma clutched in your hand.

Become a watchmaker, if you’re mechanically inclined.  Work in construction, if you’re strong in body.  Get an apprenticeship in a trade, preferably an ugly, dirty and tough one where just by virtue of being a man you face no competition from women.  I guarantee you, there’s a tough job out there for any man if he’s prepared to go for it.  And if your first one (or several) choices don’t work out, find another one that does.

Let women take over non-jobs like human resources, clerical jobs at the DMV, cubicle management, bank tellers or benefits administration at Global MegaCorp Inc., and laugh as the life force is drained from them.

Here’s the challenge:  be a man

Not today’s version of “male” figures who argue over craft beers and fashion accessories.  I’m talking about real  men, who do things for themselves, push aside barriers with confidence and, eventually, end up with women (like my friend Raul, above) who appreciate them for their qualities and for the security and families they can provide.

When I asked Raul if his wife worked, he looked at me in puzzlement and said, “What for?”

If this guy taught a class, he’d create a generation of achievers.  He would never do such a thing, of course, although he would (and does) train other men to succeed as he has.

Now get out there and make something of your life that does not include words like “curriculum”, “term paper” and “Diversity Studies”.  You’ll be a world better for it.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

OOPARTS

Here are some OOPARTS explained through my eyes while I was associated  within MAJestic. In all cases the discussions are based on what I was exposed to. Most of which is considered to be fringe and “tin hat” stuff. Whatever. Enjoy.

The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.
The Hammer inside the rock.
The Hollow Moon
The Mystery of the Lapulapu Ridge.
The Mystery of the Baltic UFO.
Mystery of the bronze bell.
Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.
Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?
The Oxia Palus Facility

Links about China

Business KTV
Dance Craze
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Fake Wine
Fat China

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Bronco Billy and the 25th law of power

When we were young, we were taught how to act, and told how to behave. The opinions of our peers decided what we would do, who we would date, and how successful our life could be. For those of us who never left our home town, these demands have become forged as the tightest shackles that bind us to the demands and needs of others.

However, once we leave that environment, we find ourselves in a new place with new friends and a new life. We are thus given and provided the opportunity to reconstruct our life. We are provided with the chance for us to define our life for ourselves. We can break forth through the limits placed on us by others.

Not only is this desirable, but it is often necessary. For true growth, and to be the most that you can be, comes from you defining how you will live, and under which terms that you will define your life.

The 25th Law of power

Law 25 
Re-Create Yourself 

Do not accept the roles that society foists on you. Re-create yourself by forging a new identity, one that commands attention and never bores the audience. Be the master of your own image rather than letting others define it for you. Incorporate dramatic devices into your public gestures and actions – your power will be enhanced and your character will seem larger than life.

The book “The 48 Laws of Power” is a classic work that defines methods and techniques by which a person may obtain power. Power can be defined many ways. It might be money, sex, relationships, ownership, control, or as pure military might.

The book goes into great detail on this subject, providing multiple examples that illustrate each technique.

48 Laws of Power
The 48 Laws of Power is a world famous book that describes numerous techniques for obtaining power. The power can be used for good or bad, it is up to the user.

One of the laws, or techniques, of power is the ability to recreate your life on your terms. This is law #25. Indeed, it is a powerful technique. For unless you have lived a charmed life, humans need to grow and expand beyond themselves. We are like a snake that sheds it’s skin, or a caterpillar who undergoes chrysalis to become a butterfly. We need to constantly strive, adapt and grow. For that is how we obtain experience.

For example motivational speaker Les Brown was classified as developmentally disabled. He was told that the best he could do was to become a janitor or a field laborer. Yet, he refused to believe that. With everyone of his classmates laughing at him, and most teachers shaking their head in sorry distain, we went ahead and forged a new life for himself.

He took on a new role; a better role as a motivational speaker.

Or consider, another radio talk show host; Rush Limbaugh. Always controversial, and bombastic, he was constantly hired and fired from jobs. No one wanted to touch him. We was considered a “wild card” and uncontrollable. Yet, by honing his abilities, and working on his strengths, he preserved and became a very famous and a very rich talk show host.

Often times, we need to move away from the thoughts, ideas, concepts of what other people think of us. Do you want to be treated as a successful businessman and not the class clown? Then you need to move away from your school mates. Do you want to be considered to be a brilliant scientist? Then you need to move away from people who call you a “book worm with no common sense”. Do you want to become a suave and sophisticated “ladies man”? Then, you need to remove yourself from the women who make fun of you and who don’t appreciate you qualities.

Now, you shouldn’t become confused. It is often more than just moving away geographically. You have to learn and hone the skills that you desire. If you want to become a “world renowned doctor”, you will need to study and cultivate your presence globally. If you want to be a “Ladies Man”, you will need to hone your relationship skills, and work on your presentation. If you want to live the life on your terms, you will have to work at it.

Have a Dream

We all need an objective. This is something that we can visualize and conceptualize. It is something that we can embrace as a target and an ideal that we can achieve.

"Bronco Billy McCoy: I've got a special message for you little pardners out there. I want you to finish your oatmeal at breakfast and do as your mom and pa tell you because they know best. Don't ever tell a lie and say your prayers at night before you go to bed. And as our friends south of the border say, 'Adios, amigos.' "

Have a Plan

Without a roadmap we are just lost in the wilderness. We need a plan to follow with a set goal to achieve. So set a goal. Describe the person who you want to be. Go into great detail. List what you want to be and what you don’t want to be.

Indian snake dance.
In the movie “Bronco Billy” all the members of his travelling fair were misfits. They were shoe salesmen, draft dodgers, and losers, who decided to step outside of their world and become something different. Here is a man who wanted to be an Indian chief.

You don’t need to use Microsoft Project to generate a plan, but you do need to take active steps. Get a notebook. It is cheap. Do not rely on your computer or cell phone to do this task. They are full of distractions. Go old school.

One cheap notebook. One pen (or pencil).

That notebook is your roadmap. Title it what ever you want, but in short it should be about one thing and one thing only; who you want to be.

Also note that it is going to be a journey. Right now you are NOT ready to be who you want to be. Some changes will be necessary. Indeed, you will need to change some things. Additionally, you will need to learn some things, and prepare some things as well. You will need to plan it out.

You can be who you want to be.
This rule applies to both men and women. It is not gender specific. In the movie “Bronco Billy”, a sad and unhappy, but filthy rich socialite ends up transforming her life into HER idea of what she wants.

For instance, using the “Ladies Man” example above, you will need to read books on how to seduce. You will need to subscribe to websites, forums and feeds with like minded people. You will need to establish goals and a training program. The training program will not only be about learning new things, but it will also be about unlearning old bad habits.

You will need to do daily positive affirmations. These are sentences that you repeat to yourself over and over to undo the programming that you have endured over the years. For instance;

  • I am calm, cool, and collected.
  • I am always happy, smart, know what to say.
  • I am lucky.
  • I dress right, my hair is perfect, and I know how to handle myself.

Positive affirmations need to be written down, and repeated daily. They work. Let them do their magic.

Work your plan

Once you map out your goal and how to get there; do it. In life, it is better to be 60% ready than wait forever to be 100% ready. You need to learn the basics and then plan on “faking it until you make it”. Close your eyes and make it happen.

Trust me, you won’t die.

"Bronco Billy McCoy: Now look! I don't take kindly to kids playin' hooky from school. I think every kid in America ought to go to school... at least up to the eighth grade. 

Young kid: We don't go to school today, Bronco Billy. It's Saturday! 
"

You will experience hurtles and problems. So what? That is life. For instance, let’s suppose your dream is to move to Bangkok, Thailand and become a go-go bar owner. It is obtainable, but it will be a lot of work. You might need to break your plan into smaller bite-sized bites and then work those pieces.

Let’s suppose your dream is to become a sheep rancher in New Zealand. It is possible, but you will need to know some basics about sheep herding, and you will need to work on the immigration paperwork.

Troubles for Bronco Billy and friends.
In the pursuit of our dreams there will be setbacks and troubles. However, they will never end your dream. It will just put it aside for a spell. Do not give up. Never give up. Never, and I do mean NEVER let ANYONE ever steal or take your dream away from you.

No matter what you do, you will need to have a plan that not only covers the physical changes that you need and want to bring about, but also covers the emotional and behavioral ones as well. But you know what? You can do it, because it is in YOUR nature.

You do not need a machine to make the world-line switch. You can do this on your own.

It gets easier over time…

"Lorraine Running Water: Do you understand what Bronco Billy and the wild west show are all about? You can be anything you want. All you have to do is go out and become it! "

The longer you work towards your dream, the easier it becomes. You always become what you think about. But actuating your thoughts with physical and tangible actions you will be able to achieve your dreams, and trust me you will be amazed how successful you will become.

Bronco Billy on stage.
You can achieve your dreams. You only need to have a plan. Keep it simple and direct and work it relentlessly. It is the one thing for you and you alone. Never let anyone steal it away from you.

When I was planning on moving to China, I studied Chinese. I had no one to practice with. I had no one to listen to. So I did it on my own, while the people around me snickered and made fun of me.  You will overcome the nay-Sayers and losers. You just follow your dream and stick with your plan.

Don’t let anyone steal that from under you.

Other Sources

In the movie “Bedazzled“, a man who is helplessly in love, signs away his soul for a change to spend life with the girl of his dreams. The devil gives him six opportunities to remake himself (all, of course, with a devilish twist). The point in the movie is that you can remake yourself to obtain objectives, but that there will be a tradeoff in the process.

I won’t go so far as to say that you cannot change because it will have undesirable effects. But, I will say that what ever the image that you want to become… make sure that it is an extension of WHO YOU ARE inside.

Choose
Only you can choose who you will be? Scenes are from the movie “Bedazzled”.

Conclusion

"Antoinette Lilly: Are you for real?
 
Bronco Billy McCoy: I'm who I want to be."

The movie “Bronco Billy” is a full embodiment of the lessons of Law #25 of the “48 Laws of Power”. All of the members within his little band of entertainers were redirecting their lives toward their dreams. While it is only a Hollywood movie, and received moderate praise by the “geniuses” in Hollywood, the lessons are important and valid.

It certainly deserves a second look. Especially today with the way things are in the world today.

Don’t give up.

You can recreate your own life in the form that you want it to be in. If you are tired and exhausted in living the life as it is today, you can exit it. You are not tied to anything. You really aren’t. You can bail.

  1. Set a goal.
  2. Make a Plan.
  3. Follow the Plan.
  4. Implement it.

Live your dream. Do not let anyone stop you.

Bronco Billy is living his dream.
Be like Bronco Billy. Live your dream. You don’t have to be a poor shoe salesman in New York city. You can recreate your life into something that appeals to you. Don’t be afraid. Follow your dream.

Takeaways

  • The 25th Law of the 48 Laws of Power suggests that we can create the life that we want to live. We should not accept the life that others want us to live.
  • This is attainable.
  • To achieve this dream, we need to set a goal, learn, and work towards that goal.
  • The movie “Bronco Billy” is all about the 25th Law of Power.
  • By watching the movie, you get a very good understanding of what the 25th Law of Power is and how it can be applied to your life.

FAQ

Q: Is my dream achievable, even if it sounds crazy or unobtainable?
A: Yes. However, it does need to be realistic. You cannot dream about being a turtle. However, you can dream about being a caretaker for turtles in Bora Bora.

Q: My spouse thinks it is a waste of time to pursue any dreams. What do I do?
A: This is a common problem. You have a choice. You can either enlist your spouse to share in your dream, or you will be forced to follow the dream without them. In any event, if you are forbidden to live your dream… that is not a life, no matter how anyone else tries to rationalize it.

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Q: How can I find the time to do all that I need to do to obtain my dream?
A: If you do not find the time, your dream will never materialize.

Q: Where can I find the movie “Bronco Billy”?
A: Try Netflix or any decent torrent site. Torrents are free, and most movies can be downloaded in a few days. Rare movies might take weeks.

Bronco Billy and Lilly.
Life is too short to be unhappy. It is like a bowl of cold chili. It is up to you to make it the best best life that is possible. You need to set your foot down and take command of your life. Make your dreams happen.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Link
Link
Link
Tomatos
Link
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Link
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
Link
The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Link
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link
Link

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed, edited, SEO checked and released. 27JUN18.
  2. Corrections. 27JUN18.

The Amazing Bremelanotide PT-141 (Vyleesi)

This post was updated 5JUL19, when I received word that the FDA approved Bremelanotide PT-141 under the name Vylessi. I updated this post, and subsequently added the name Vylessi to all mention of Bremelanotide PT-141, and added updated histories and commentaries at the end.

We have a tendency to think inside the box. We try to improve what we know. We try to work within the framework of what we have. We actually do need to think "outside the box"...

As a man gets older, your body changes. Your hair starts receding, and starts to fall out. You start to become bald. Your hair turns white. Your teeth start giving you problems, and you start to gain weight. Getting rid of that weight becomes problematic. No longer can exercise alone keep you trim and fit. You have to change your diet as well.

All men eventually start to have erectile disfunction (ED). Usually it seems to start in your early 40’s depending on your stress level, lifestyle, and general health. You can postpone it for a few years, but it will eventually strike. It will.

Typically, erectile disfunction more closely resembles a moderate soft erection. This is due to the blood pressure in the penis. As a man gets older, his ability to create solid rock-hard erections diminishes. Instead, when excited he produces short-lived soft and “spongy” erections, often cycling between a moderate “soft” erection and no erection at all.

This is what it is like to grow old.

Now, you can exercise. You can eat special foods, and you can have a stress-free life that can all significantly reduce these effects. For instance, leeks and eggs, bitter melon and oysters can certainly help the man in the bedroom. It will do wonders, as will a daily glass of red wine…

Enter Viagra

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Who hasn’t heard of this “miracle” pill?

Viagra entered the world in the 1990’s and revitalized the world of the American male. No longer did older men need to live a sex-less life. All you need do is pop in a “little blue pill” and all your troubles are over.

Of course, there are some tradeoffs.

For one, you need to get a doctors’ prescription. America is just about the ONLY nation that has this bastardized restriction. Everyone can just get the medicine off the shelf just about anywhere. Secondly, you have to pay REAL money for it. In a world where the raw material of Viagra (sildenafil) costs $100 / kg, and where a single dosage of Viagra is 25mg, the price difference is astounding.

Sildenafil
You can purchase the raw material for Viagra in China. This is Sildenafil. You have a MOQ, minimum order quantity to content with, which is often at least a gram. Price is around $0.000002 / pill.

It costs ten cents a gram for sildenafil, or ten cents for 1000mg. That’s ten cents for 40 pills. But Big American Pharmacies and their associated industries are charging an insane amount for this pill.

The cost for Viagra oral tablet 25 mg is around $447 for a supply of 6 tablets, depending on the pharmacy you visit. Prices are for cash paying customers only and are not valid with insurance plans.
-Drugs.com

It’s a good thing that I live in China, where I can get a bag of 100 generic pills for under $1.20.

Ah, but I digress…

"Abroad, getting Viagra is no problem as it is readily available over the counter in many countries. In countries I’ve been to, it sells for $1 a pill. Then, it’s party on. No such luck in the police state known as America. Got to have a doctor’s prescription, and it’s pricey. But, it’s worth it for the occasional twosome or threesome when there’s blow involved."

-If you are going to use Cocaine use Viagra

Enter Cialis

While it is certainly convenient, the problem with Viagra is that it tends to give you a headache, and does not mix well with alcohol. Which really sucks as most of us older folk prefer to drink and have fun, often leading up to a sexual romp or two.

And then came Cialis…

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You take a Cialis pill on a Friday, and you are good to go up until next Tuesday. That’s four days, boys and girls. OK, well, three days of erection when you want it, and as long lasting as you need it. Four days it begins to sputter out. It’s erection on demand, and they are of high quality and long duration. Perfect for cuddling with that special person in your life. The real problem with this is that it takes around three hours to work, so it doesn’t lend itself to spontaneous sexual encounters.

It is ideal for a married man who wants to spend quality time with his wife.

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Cialis is not licensed in China, so the only way you can get it at a pharmacy is to pay “full price”. Which is often 120 RMB/pill, or roughly $20/pill. That in itself pretty much sucks. Salaries in China are far below the salaries in the United States, so when you spend $20, it’s like spending enough to cover a weeks amount of food.

Chinese Pharmacy
Typical Chinese Pharmacy. The girl behind the counter will typically look up your medicine request on the computer and giver you the option of a local generic Chinese brand or a (cheap) cost version of a Western equivalent.

But then again, you can simply buy the (Tadalafil) powder here. Weigh it out. Mix it up yourself and use it.

I understand that a generic version is available in the UK, which would be a good alternative if you didn’t want to have a closet full of 500,000 Cialis pills lying around after your mix up your own batch. (BTW, India doesn’t really care about these licensed patents, and makes the pills anyways. Licensing and FDA be damned. So you can get great quality Cialis Generic out of India for maybe a fraction of the cost for what you would pay in the USA.)

It’s worth it, you know. You can spend quality time and focus on the time together instead of just one central activity.

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Shelf Life

As an aside, it does have a shelf life. After I made up a couple of million pills, I had to throw away large garbage bags full of old pills. They had begun to age. As they got older, they started to develop side effects, such as stomach gas, indigestion, headaches, and vision irregularities. So don’t use any Cialis that is over three years old. When I threw them away, there must have been five large green-black bags of pills that were thrown into the dumpster. Such a waste. Such a waste.

Anyways, I would have say that Cialis is the preferred conventional medication for ED, hands down.

Anyways…

The Design Team

Ah, but now for some bad news. What is really sad about it is what happened to all the researchers and developers who invented this product. You want to guess? Come on, what do you think happened to them?

Guess.

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Key team leaders in the ICOS Corporation developed the drug. They conceived it, they developed it and worked on it. However, the FDA has all kinds of testing and qualification hurtles that needed to be overcome. There was no way that the medicine would be approved. They were told this, and they knew that they had to link up with an “insider” or two to get the product approved. So the ICOS Corporation teamed up with Eli Lilly and Company to help get the drug approved through the FDA.

Of course, Eli Lilly is a big company with a lot of pull. They were able to “pull some strings” and get the drug approved.

As soon as they were able, Eli Lilly and Company bought the ICOS Corporation. They did so in 2007. It didn’t come cheap. They bought it for $2.3 billion. As a result, Eli Lilly now owned Cialis. As soon as they acquired the company, they immediately closed the ICOS operations. Thus they ended the joint venture and fired most of ICOS’s approximately 500 employees. Five hundred employees fired. Five. Hundred. Employees. Good Golly!

So…

Now you know [1] why the drug costs so much, and [2] why it sucks to work in corporate America.

Chinese pharmacy.
You can buy just about any medicine in the world at a Chinese pharmacy. You don’t need a prescription and the costs typically are much cheaper than in the United States. You just write what you are looking for on a slip of paper and give it to the girl behind the counter. No Chinese language skill is necessary.

Enter Levitra

This is an interesting little drug. It is a single dose drug like Viagra, but with a cost comparable to Cialis. It works a little bit differently than either of the two drugs already discussed. However, functionally it is like Viagra except it is made by a different company. You can consider it the Pepsi equivalent to Coke-cola.

I prefer it over Viagra simply because it interacts better with wine. I also like the (ahem) feeling I get when I use it. I feel (somewhat) better “packed” if you know what I mean.

What does it matter?

So now, men can take a pill and get an erection whenever they need it. Depending on where they live the access to this medication may be relatively easy (like in China) or restricted (like in America).

The thing is that life is not two dimensional.

It’s not ONLY about having a nice hard erection, it is about the mood, the feeling, and the emotions that you have when you are engaged in lovemaking. People, we are NOT animals. We have feelings and urges. Just getting hard and going through the motions is fine for a robot, but it is really weak compared to the real thing that you experienced when you were young.

For instance, consider the humble tomato. It was bred to look delicious, and ship safe. With taste being an afterthought. How we have thousands of tomatoes that look like plastic fruit and taste like cardboard. We have turned it into a two-dimensional shadow of what it was.

There are a host of things going on inside our brain when we are engaged in a sexual encounter. We express a litany of emotions, and feelings. We experience different sensations in our bodies. We connect and feel things that we share with our partners.

For both men and women, there are different aspects to a relationship that can be enhanced or (better yet) compensated for, instead just focusing on having an erection.

So…

Maybe we should start to pay attention to these other aspects of our life. Maybe we should consider them as playing an important role in our life. Maybe we should consider the entire aspect of who we are and what we are doing.

Enter PT-141 (Bremelanotide) Vyleesi

Instead of being a PDE5 inhibitor like Viagra and Cialis, consider a melanocyte stimulating hormone (MSH).  MSH induces lordosis in animal subjects. Or in other words, lordosis is a sign of physical preparation for copulation. It is a hormone that tells the body “get ready, we are going to have sex”.

It is a hormone that puts an animal in “heat”.

It is hardwired in our brains.  In animals such as dogs and cats, it tells the female to rise up their butts, and tells males to start thrusting. Now, as man has evolved this hormone has been repressed. We have replaced it with other cultural triggers. Or, in other words, what we visually see that has value has replaced this hormone. The natural lordosis behavior  has atrophied in humans.

Not so when you take this drug. This drug reactivates it.

PT-141
PT-141 Bremelanotide is easily available outside of the United States. You can buy it in many English speaking countries such as Australia and the UK, as well as communist countries such as Communist China and Russia. However, Americans have been FORBIDDEN to have access to this medicine.

This drug was being developed by Palatin Technologies. It showed great promise as it works equally well on both the male and the female sexes. (Though who knows about the other 55 genders that somehow mysteriously popped into existence under the Obama administration.)

It’s not only that men can get a nice sold and hard erection. It is more than that. People who take this also feel differently. People who take it feel young and horny like a sex-crazed 16 year old.

There’s only one problem. The FDA decided to ban it.

The FDA refused to permit Americans to access this drug.

The FDA approval process.
Here is the FDA approval process. It’s pretty tight. In a way it is helpful , but in another way it is counter productive. You need a medicine that works, under specified conditions for 90% of the population. You can NEVER find something that works for 100% of the population. They could have released this medicine as approved with limitations on use, rather than directly banning it completely.

Yes, it was banned in the United States, much to the surprise to all the doctors, scientists, and research participants.

They were shocked, as they should be. This was not just a “so so” drug. The test results were ASTOUNDING, and yet…yet… it was banned.

So, in defiance, the staff who developed this amazing medicines put it ALL out on the internet. That’s right. All of the chemical formulations, all of the test plans, and all of the documentation was uploaded to the Internet.

Just like Keannu Reeves did in the movie “Chain Reaction”.

Chain Reaction starring Keannu Reeves
In the movie “Chain Reaction”, Keanu Reeves played a scientist that had the secret to limitless energy. However, dark powerful forces (namely the “swamp” and Big Business) wanted to stop him, and keep the information to themselves. What he ended up doing was to take all the information and upload it to the cloud so that everyone could have the information for free.

There, for everyone to see, is the amazing test results and the absolutely stunning levels of corruption at the FDA.

They put it all out there. Everything, including the formulation and sequencing information.

Scientists talk among each other. It’s a small world. Sure, maybe the well-paid FDA bureaucrats ($440,000 / year just to say NO!)  are oblivious to this fact, and only chat with each other in their mansions and country-clubs, but the real workers, developers and key inventors care about their work and research.

In short order, it became obvious that the FDA was a corrupt organization, and that America had banned this medication because it would compete against Viagra. It also became obvious that this medication was very special. Very… very special.

If Viagra could be compared to a French Fry, PT-141 Vyleesi was a full thanksgiving meal with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, salad, cranberry dressing, pumpkin pie and soft fresh buttered rolls. There is no comparison. None at all.

Not only that, but now the formula was available for everyone to replicate. As soon as it got out on the Internet, everyone was making it. People could buy it and try it and use it. Everyone, that is, except Americans.

So for the last two decades, this amazing drug has been used all over the world (outside of America) with amazing success, and absolutely ZERO fatalities. (So much for the so called, concerns about possible high blood pressure in a fringe section of the population.)

It has since become a legend. PT-141 Vyleesi is the stuff of dreams…

Pfaus showed me stunning testimonials from human test subjects. “On the five-point scale, I would rate the erection I had as a six,” said one of the 1,300 anonymous testers. 

"You get this humming feeling,” said another. “You’re ready to take your pants off and go.”

The drug worked equally well on women, who chronicled “an intense arousal” that lasted from six to 72 hours. “I was focused on sex,” said one of the women.

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Yes, but what is even more interesting is that this works on both men AND women. So while you might have a raging hard-on, your wife can now feel the same as you at the same time. She can feel like she was a sex-starved girl in the throes of “puppy love”.

Ah! What an amazing age that we live in!

“A dose of PT-141 results, in most cases, in a stirring in the loins in as little as 15 minutes. Women, according to one set of results, feel ‘genital warmth, tingling and throbbing’, not to mention ‘a strong desire to have sex’.”

-Julian Dibbell at ScienceBase

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User Stories

People can buy the PT-141 Vyleesi outside of the United States. And, they have been doing so for around two decades now.

The FDA has no jurisdiction off-shore, and people have taken advantage of this to try different kinds of medications for their own purposes.

You know, you don’t always have to listen to that busybody down the street to do things. So what if the FDA wants to FORCE you to pay outrageous prices for Viagra, and forbids you from using medications that you can get just about anywhere else on the planet.

Chinese Pharmacy.
Every nation has pharmacies. Here is one in China. However, you can go to a pharmacy in Mexico if you don’t want to fly to China. I am sure that it has many of the medications listed herein at a fraction of the cost of American versions.

You can hop on a plane and go to a nation that is freer, and get the medications yourself. I would suggest going to a nation that allows people more freedom than America allows.

“With PT-141 Vyleesi, you feel good, not only sexually aroused,” reported anonymous patient 007, a participant in a Phase 2 trial, “you feel younger and more energetic.” 

Said another patient: “It helped the libido. So you have the urge and the desire. . . . You get this humming feeling; you’re ready to take your pants off and go.” 

And another: “Twice me and my wife had sex twice in one night. I came in [to work] and I just raved about it: ‘Jesus, guys . . . 58 years old and you don’t do that.’ ” 

Tales of pharmaceutically induced sexual prowess among 58-year-olds are common enough in the age of the Little Blue Pill, but they don’t typically involve quite so urgent a repertoire of humming, throbbing, tingling, and double-dipping. 

Or as patient 128 put it: “My wife knows. She can tell the difference between Viagra and PT-141 Vyleesi .”

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The stories about this drug are amazing. Consider this from TheIronDen;

My buddy said research the stuff and see what the dosing was supposed to be because me made a HUGE mistake and took to much. He took double what we took and I will tell you DAMN!!! DOSING is .10-.20cc NO MORE below is the story.

As many of you know I am a bouncer on the weekends well I was told take this 45 minutes before going to bed, I had read where this could take a few hours to take effect so at midnight we went to the car and took the preloaded insulin pins I brought with me. 

Well I felt nothing and the wife didn't either by 3:30 when we got home. I was pissed at her and she didn't know it so watched TV awhile then I slept on the couch, she came in the next morning and woke me up, we went in the room and talked a min, then it was on. 

We have never had sex 3 times in 4 hours and she has never orgasmed 3 times in 1 day, we were so tired from sex that we couldn't hardly move and wanted more but our bodies wouldn't let us. bremelanotide  Vyleesi is AMAZING, I even wanted it last night, she was in the mood but couldn't as she has other medical problems and the pain in her hip was too much.

What it does:

Men - makes you horny as hell and increases blood flow to the cock making it more sensitive.

Women - floods the vagina with blood making it WAY more sensitive and very aroused.

Of this from a woman who took it with her husband…

3 hours after injection bremelanotide (PT-141)  Vyleesi hit like gangbusters.* 

We were sitting in the lounge area of a restaurant when my nether regions made themselves known. Increased sensitivity to any movement I made in my seat i.e. shifting or leg crossing. 

This was coupled with increased sexual thoughts. 

It is difficult not to think in sexual terms when some body parts are demanding your attention! My husband had a difficult time getting up from his chair to even approach the restaurant table. Next time we will time the injections better LOL

There are many, many…. MANY opinions by users, that actually run counter to the decisions made by the FDA.

I have to wonder if the agencies such as the FBI, FCC, FDA and IRS are actually being made to benefit Americans. I just seems like they all have their own agendas and treat American citizens like toilet tissue. It really seems that way. It really, really does.

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Heck, if the FDA was around when ice cream cones were first invented, I am sure that they would have banned them.

The same goes for such staples as Coke-cola, bananas (they will need to have a Blue Ribbon Panel study the “banana issue”), and chewing gum. Of course they would have banned chewing gum “for the children”.

Absolute power CORRUPTS absolutely.

When any agency causes more harm then benefit, it should have it’s doors shuttered and the workers discharged. Perhaps these “protected” governmental agencies should start to feel what industry has been like since the 1960’s for us “fly over” folk.

Women state that the sensation given from injecting bremelanotide (PT-141)  Vyleesi is like being in heat! 

One colleague in particular stated that she didn’t know what was going on…but she had wanted “it” all day long after dosing the night before.

-TheIronDen

History and Timeline

Here’s a quick timeline of events that begins with Palatin Technologies’ submission to the FDA in the United States.

August 30, 2007

Right off the bat, the FDA declined Palatin Technologies’ application for approval of Bremelanotide to treat erectile dysfunction. The reason was there were “concerns” of increased blood pressure in a small percentage of the test subjects. Especially in light that Viagra was approved and it too had test subjects that had increased blood pressure.

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...the rejection of Bremelanotide by the FDA is especially puzzling, at least to a "lay person", when seeing posts online (including this one on the Yahoo finance message board for Palatin Technologies) claiming Palatin insiders have told them that only 2% of test subjects experienced a significant increase in blood pressure.

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 "It was up to 30 for 2 percent (I spoke to Steven W aka investor relations). The avg was 3. Not a medical person but those few people that hit the 30 mark killed brem."

Click here to read about the FDA decision about Bremelanotide

There are all kinds of conspiracies as to why this drug was declined because one or two of the thousands of test subjects had slightly raised blood pressure, when other approvals (with higher percentages of problems identified by test subjects) were approved.

I, such as myself, have speculated that huge companies (like Pfizer for instance) may have strongly influenced the FDAs decision regarding approval of this relatively small company’s competitive product. If you don’t know what I am talking about, watch the movie “Tucker, a man and his dream“.

September 10, 2007

Palatin Technologies and King Pharmaceuticals end their collaboration. Palatin regains full rights to the Bremelanotide program.

September 11, 2007

Competitive Technologies announced they presented Palatin Technologies with a Notice of Termination of the PT-14 technology license agreement. For those not aware, CTT “discovered” the original compound that led to PT-141 (Brem’s initial designation) via the University of Arizona, and licensed Palatin to develop it in 1998.

This issue was resolved on January 22, 2008 with Palatin paying $800,000 to CTT and maintaining the rights to Bremelanotide.

September 28, 2007

Palatin Technologies announced positive results from an at-home Phase 2 trial evaluating bremelanotide for the treatment of female sexual arousal disorder (FSAD).

Post menopausal women "showed statistically significant improvements, compared to baseline and placebo, in desire and arousal success rates, and overall satisfaction at one and two months. In these patients, the FSFI domains of arousal, desire and orgasm were statistically significantly improved compared to placebo at one month. The arousal and orgasm domains were statistically significantly improved compared to placebo at one and two months."

Premenopausal women also "showed statistically significant improvements, compared to baseline, in desire and arousal success rates, and overall satisfaction at one and two months."

May 14, 2008

Palatin Technologies reported it was abandoning Bremelanotide as a sexual dysfunction drug. Instead they intend to resubmit it to the FDA as a treatment for shock due to blood loss.

They are beginning studies for a new compound called PL-6983.  This compound works like Bremelanotide but with significantly lower problems related to blood pressure issues. Read Palatin Technologies’ 2008 Objectives plan here.

Then something happened... In 2016, Donald Trump was elected and immediately put businessmen instead of political hacks in charge of the FDA. Three years later...

July 1, 2019

The FDA approved the drug! I am absolutely shocked! As well as pleased. Very, very pleased. Now Americans can finally get what we in the rest of the world has enjoyed for almost two decades now.

It can now be bought in the United States under prescription. It goes by the name Vyleesi. I’m sure that it will be much more expensive for Americans to buy, but it will now be available, and that is a big step towards freedom.

Vyleesi (bremelanotide) PT-141
Vyleesi (bremelanotide) PT-141

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Details

Here is a write up that has been circulating online over the last decade or so. As websites come and go, it behooves us to keep this information alive and available for all the poor sops in America who are FORBIDDEN from using this wonderful product;

What is Bremelanotide (PT-141)?

Bremelanotide (formerly PT-141) is the generic term for a new medication for use in treating sexual dysfunction in men (erectile dysfunction or impotence) as well as sexual dysfunction in women (sexual arousal disorder). It is a synthetic aphrodisiac. Unlike Viagra and other related medications, it does not act upon the vascular system, but directly increases sexual desire.

Originally, the peptide Melanotan II that bremelanotide was developed from was tested as a sunless tanning agent. In initial testing, Melanotan II did induce tanning but additionally caused sexual arousal and spontaneous erections as unexpected side effects in eight out of the ten original male volunteer test subjects. In clinical studies, bremelanotide has been shown to be effective in treating male sexual and erectile dysfunction as well as female sexual dysfunction. It is currently being tested by Palatin Technologies.

Bremelanotide is a cyclic hepta-peptide lactam analog of alpha-melanocyte-stimulating hormone (alpha-MSH) that activates the melanocortin receptors MC3-R and MC4-R in the central nervous system. It has the amino acid sequence Ac-Nle-cyclo[Asp-His-D-Phe-Arg-Trp-Lys]-OH or cyclo-[Nle4, Asp5, D-Phe7, Lys10]alpha-MSH-(4-10). PT-141 is a metabolite of Melanotan II that lacks the C-terminal amide function. Its molecular formula is C50H68N14O10 with a molecular weight of 1025.2.

Are these nasal? Oral, Injectable?

Currently the nasal and oral routes have not been made efficient. PT-141 is a sterile injectable made for sub-q injection, like insulin.

What's the dosing schedule...how much do I take?

0.5mg-2mg is the range which people dose. Taking 2-4 hours before game time is ideal. The window of opportunity is very unique.

Say you had a dinner and movie arranged. Taking before dinner may be the best route, however during the climax of the movie may interfere with one of your own…read between the lines there

Is there any reconstituting involved?

Yes and bacteriostatic water is the recommended solvent here. 

To mix the vial with bact water, take one syringe (BD Ultrafine II 1cc or 1/3 cc are excellent and I recommend them) and grab your vial of bacteriostatic water. If using a 1 cc syringe (100 units), use the syringe to withdraw 1 full ml (1cc) and inject that into the vial of PT-141 through the rubber. 

Be sure to aim the needle towards the glass, so that it will trickle down and not harm the peptide. 

Swirl the vial to thoroughly mix and let the peptide dissolve. The key here is to be gentle. 

Say you had the vial of PT-141 stored in the freezer, move the vial of PT-141 to fridge for an overnight stay. Then you are ready the next day to reconstitute the same temperature refrigerated bact water with the PT-141 in the most efficient manner. (Just some tricks of the trade here.)

So now you have 100 units (1cc) of bacteriostatic water mixed with 10 mg of PT-141 in your vial ready to go. A 1mg dose would be 10 units or .1ml (.1cc). Make sense? Hope so.

How is it stored?

The lyophilized powder (freeze dried state) can be stored in the freezer or refrigerator. Once reconstituted (mixed with water) it will be good for a month in the refrigerator before it begins to degrade.

Does this help give erections or just put you in the mood?

With PT-141, you feel good, not only sexually aroused, as reported anonymous patient 007, a participant in a Phase 2 trial, you feel younger and more energetic.

The precise mechanisms by which PT-141 does its job remain unclear, but the rough idea is this: Where Viagra acts on the circulatory system, helping blood flow into the penis, PT-141 goes straight to the brain itself. And there it goes to work, switching on the same neural circuitry that lights up when a person actually, you know, wants to.

Basically this takes men back to middle school. You may find yourself in a similar situation as you were in 8th grade science class with the teacher bent over helping the student in front of you. It may be necessary to do a "tuck up" if at the office or especially at the public pool!

via GIPHY

Enter PL-6983

This is an “improved” version of PT-141 that doesn’t have any of the “concerns” that the FDA has raised. Of course, no matter how successful the medication is, the FDA will probably ban it’s use anyways. Anyways, this medication is under development currently and the formula is secret. Maybe one day, we can find out more about this medication. However, for now, we will have to wait.

PL-6983 is a synthetic peptide and selective MC4 receptor agonist which is under development by Palatin Technologies for the treatment of female sexual dysfunction and erectile dysfunction. It was developed as a successor to/replacement of bremelanotide (PT-141) due to concerns of the side effect of increased blood pressure seen with the latter in clinical trials. Relative to bremelanotide, PL-6983 produces significantly lower increases in blood pressure in animal models.The drug has reportedly been in pre-clinical development for all medical indications since 2008. Palatin has stated that "We are focusing development efforts on bremelanotide for [female sexual dysfunction], but are continuing evaluation of PL-6983." The chemical structure of PL-6983 has yet to be made public.

-Wikipedia

You can read about it in detail HERE.

Enter Oxytocin

You do not need to take various medications to enhance your bodies’ desire for sexual intercourse. There are hormones that do this. For example, Oxytocin is a hormone that also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain and known as the “love hormone” or “cuddle hormone”.

via GIPHY

In humans, it is believed to be released during hugging, touching, and orgasm in both sexes. Oxytocin is also involved in social recognition and bonding, and may be involved in the formation of trust and generosity.

A researcher at the University of Zurich has stated that women are more susceptible to oxytocin than men, due to enhancing effects of estrogen, so women may show a stronger effect.

via GIPHY

If you are an American it would be pretty difficult to obtain. You would have to have your doctor prescribe it for you, and at that, it is heavily regulated and very expensive. Or, you could do what everyone else on the globe does. They buy it from China.

Enter Flibanserin

Now, of course, women have different biology than males. Their urges, needs and desires can not often be switched on and off like a light-bulb. Consider Flibanserin. Here is a drug that showed some real promise in helping women reengage their sexual desire.

Addyi
Addyi has been developed to help women with their sexual needs and desires. Personally I think it is a good thing. I have noticed that when both mean and women are getting their sexual and relationship needs fulfilled, they are often healthier and much happier.

It was developed by a small company called Boehringer Ingelheim, and they submitted it to the FDA for approval. Of course, the FDA halted all approvals, and the development of this product ended.

Well, some “back door” meetings were conducted. Some money changed hands. Then, suddenly the rights to the drug were then transferred to Sprout Pharmaceuticals. What do you know? Suddenly all the roadblocks fell and the FDA approved of the drug in August 2015.

via GIPHY

Of course! Only certain companies are permitted to get products approved by the FDA. It’s a small closed club, don’t you know.  Hum. I wonder how much money exchanged hands at the FDA. I’ll bet that it was significant.

Heroes and attaractive people have followers.
Some people end up having followers or groupies. Anyone can be a follower. That can include newscasters. I am sure that this gal would do anything that this man asked.

The product was developed as BIMT-17. Current brand name is Addyi.

Flibanserin has been dubbed the “Female Viagra” and “the little pink pill”; however compared to Viagra, flibanserin has a distinctly different mechanism.

The proposed mechanism of action of flibanserin involves regulation of several brain chemicals that may affect sexual desire, although the exact mechanism is not known. Flibanserin is a post-synaptic 5HT1A receptor agonist and 5HT2A receptor antagonist, as noted in FDA briefing documents, and has action in the central nervous system. 

The manufacturer states that flibanserin corrects an imbalance of dopamine and norepinephrine (both responsible for sexual excitement), while decreasing levels of serotonin (responsible for sexual satiety / inhibition). 

Flibanserin is not a hormonal drug and does not affect blood flow like the class of drugs approved for men with erectile dysfunction.

-Drugs.com

Like all FDA approved medications, there are limitations.  The medication has to be taken daily and is costly, about US$800 per month with a prescription.

But no worries. You can buy the materials by the Kg in China, and only end up paying $0.0000002/dose. Of course, you would need to measure the dose out on a scale. So it is not as convenient.

via GIPHY

If you want to save money, and not have to worry about self dosing, I would suggest this far cheaper alternative.

  1. Buy a round-trip ticket to China.
  2. Get a five-star hotel room.
  3. Go to a pharmacy, and pay $20 for a three month supply.
  4. Return home.

You won’t need a prescription in China. The Chinese government trusts their citizens to know how to take care of their own bodies.

Contrary to what the American Media says, the Chinese government trusts their people.

What about Kisspeptin

Kisspeptin is a naturally occurring hormone, so it’s present in all men and all women. And it’s mainly found in the brain, especially in the center of the brain in the area called the hypothalamus.

via GIPHY

At the moment we know that it works to control other reproductive hormones like testosterone and estrogen using its actions in the hypothalamus. There are receptors for this hormone in the emotional areas of the brain.

In trials, 29 healthy young male volunteers were given an injection containing kisspeptin. They were then shown a variety of images while in an MRI scanner, including sexual and non-sexual romantic pictures of couples bonding. The same men were also administered a placebo during the two-stage controlled study.

Researchers analyzing the brain responses of the men found that after the injection of kisspeptin, when viewing sexual or romantic images of couples, there was increased activity in structures in the brain typically activated by sexual arousal and romance.

The researchers say the findings, published in the Journal of Clinical Investigation, show for the first time that the hormone that is vital in all of us to stimulate puberty can also alter the way that our brains behave.

Roll Call

So we have PDE5 inhibitors like Viagra and Cialis that enable the male to have erections. It doesn’t do anything in regards to feelings and emotions. All it does is enable men to perform biologically like they did when they were in their 20’s.

We have melanocyte stimulating hormones (MSH) that induces primeval lordosis in humans. This works on both men and women. The FDA forbids Americans to use this medicine, but it is being used around the world with great and stunning results. This is available in PT-141 and possibly (one day) in PL-6983.

We have normal human hormones such as Kisspeptin and Oxytocin that regulates feelings and emotions leading towards relationships and sexual activities.

Finally, we have “designer medicines” such as Flibanserin (Addyi). Which is a post-synaptic 5HT1A receptor agonist and 5HT2A receptor antagonist for female use.

The Future

The future for Americans is rather bleak, I am afraid.

The House of Representatives voted on Friday to create a new schedule of banned drugs under the Controlled Substances Act, called “Schedule A,” and to give Attorney General Jeff Sessions broad new powers to criminalize the manufacturing, importation, and sale of substances that are currently unregulated, but not illegal. 

The bill is now headed to the Senate, where co-sponsors Dianne Feinstein (D–Calif.) and Chuck Grassley (R–Iowa) will likely have little problem whipping votes.

-Michael Krieger via Liberty Blitzkrieg blog

Did you know that the natural betel nut is banned in the United States? Do you even know what it is? It is a nut from the betel tree, and people in South East Asia chew it, much like Americans chew birch bark and leaves. It’s not at all popular in the United States, but in Asian expat communities, they do chew this nut.

Well, the FDA banned it. Do you know why?

Was it because it was dangerous? Was it because of “the children”? Was it because it might cause addiction or develop into a desire for other vices? Nope. It was banned because they COULD NOT find anything wrong with it. So to be safe, they banned it until they could find a benefit in chewing it. You know, “better safe than sorry”.

What kind of backwards logic is this? That is America for you. There is absolutely no freedom. Now, if you want to chew a betel nut you need to go to a freer country that allows you this little pleasure.

You need to go to a country that has more freedoms than America allows. You know, like friggin’ communist China!!!!

Summary

As an American, all we know is what we are told. We think that there is only one medication available for men with ED issues. When in reality, there are a host of solutions. It is just that Americans are barred from trying any of these other solutions simply because…

Simply because…

You, know. Because…

But not to worry. These medications are easy to get outside of the United States. They do not need doctors prescriptions or any proof of age or other barriers that one often finds in the United States. You just go to a pharmacy, write the name of the drug on a piece of paper, and they sell it to you directly at the cash register.

As you get older, you start to realize that “someday, I will...” is actually right NOW. There no longer is a “someday“. All you have is the NOW, and nothing else. You have friends who have died, and you truly know how short life actually is. You don’t have the will to wait for “someday…“.

You don’t have the time, or the patience to wait until some well-fed bureaucrat in the American government grants you the right to do things with your own body. You say “piss on this“, and go do it yourself anyways.

Every day that you live could be the last.

That moment that you could spend with your wife, holding and snuggling, while the storm rages outside might be your last. Those bureaucrats in Washington, D.C. don’t care about you at all. They are not sitting at the table with you now. They have no idea what color your socks are, and do not know which side of the bed that you sleep on.

How dare they TELL YOU what to put in YOUR body!

Our rulers
Here are the people who operate the enormous bureaucracy in the United States. You know, the ones that say one things and do the other. John Brennan. James Clapper, and their ilk. You know what they think of YOU and your family, don’t you…?

Freedom actually means something. It is not just a meaningless slogan that you hear on the fourth of July. It means something, gosh darn it!

The freedom to live your life on your terms is what freedom is. And that is why I am in communist China of all places. At least here, I can take whatever medication I please. No over-paid Washington bureaucrat can do anything about it.

Hey! I’m not seeing an opioid crisis over here…

Oh, and by the way! I like well-cooked bacon as well, with sunny-side up eggs! I like “runny” yellows on my eggs. You don’t like it? You can go to hell.

This is MY time and I am living it on MY terms. I strongly recommend that you, the reader, do so as well. You go live YOUR life as YOU see fit.

via GIPHY

Takeaways

  • PT-141 is a superior ED medication.
  • PT-141 is illegal in the United States, even though it’s qualification trials were acceptable. This is true even though this drug is available world-wide with no reported problems what so ever.
  • To pass approval in the FDA, there is apparently a need for graft, kick-backs and large American-based company partnerships. Nothing is ever approved on merit alone.
  • Americans do not need to suffer the extremely high costs of medications in the United States. They can get them outside of the USA at a fraction of the cost (airfare included).
  • ED medication is often used recreationally by young men who don’t need it. However, there is a real and serious need for men over 40 years old.
  • The roles of touching, cuddling, holding and passionate embraces are just as important than the sexual act alone.

FAQ

Q: What is PT-141?
A:Bremelanotide (tentative brand name Rekynda; former developmental code name PT-141) is a peptide melanocortin receptor agonist which is under development by Palatin Technologies as a treatment for female sexual dysfunction. It works equally effectively on both male and female humans.

Q: Is it available in the United States?
A: No. The FDA has banned it.

Q: Why is PT-141 banned in the United States?
A: The official reason is because a small subgroup of patients using the medication experienced higher than normal levels of blood pressure. The actual reason is because this is a small non-American organization, and they did not have any connections with large American pharmacy organizations to pay for the vice and graft that the FDA expected.

Q: Is PT-141 safe?
A: Yes. Since the product went globally public since 2007, there has not been one fatality or hospitalization when using this medication. NOT ONE.

Q: Other medicines in other nations cheaper than in the USA?
A: Oh, my yes.

"$8 per vial in competing developed-world nations and $38,892 in the U.S. That says it all."

-Charles Hugh Smith via OfTwoMinds blog

5JUL19 Update

The FDA approved Bremelanotide PT-141 for sale under the trade name Vyleesi. Amazing!

And the “swamp creatures” in Washington DC are furious!

A Final Quote

Dr. Robert Pearl, writing in Forbes last September illustrated the greed exhibited by the industry. He used the CEO of Nostrum Laboratories to make his point. Nostrum recently raised the U.S. price of their antibiotic nitrofurantoin from $474.75 to $2,392. It was developed back in 1953 and should have gone off patent during the Nixon era.

In an interview with the Financial Times, Nirmal Mulye Nostrum chief executive, said “I think it is a moral requirement to…sell the product for the highest price.”

Mr Mulye compared pricing decisions to that of selling “a painting for half a billion dollars”. He was “in this business to make money”. Of course, all businesses are in business to make money. But, none enjoy the monopolistic protections granted to the pharmaceutical industry here in the United States.

Note: a three day supply of nitrofurantoin tablets in Alberta sells for $15 Canadian.

The American system has been allowed to metastasize into an unaffordable monster. Our political leaders have allowed it. It is long past time for Americans to demand that they change it. This is not a matter of right versus left. It is a matter of right versus wrong. It is simply wrong for our government to allow sick Americans to be held hostage to the predatory prices imposed by these government protected monopolies.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos
Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Composed 15JUN18.
  2. Final composition 20JUN18.
  3. SEO review 20JUN18.

Why an American Man should Leave America (If just for a bit…)

No, this is not a bash the United States post. This is a post about stepping out of your comfort zone and seeing what is “out there”. Here, I argue that travel, and adventure, are the best ways to make us appreciate America, what we have. As well, as to appreciate what we don’t have.

After all, if you live in the desert you begin to appreciate grass, trees and rain. You need to “shake things up” from time to time.

When one speaks three languages: they are trilingual.
When one speaks two languages: they are bilingual.
When one speaks only one language: they are American.

I’ve done my fair share of travelling, and I can say that no place is perfect. Some things are great here, and some things are better there. What is important is the exposure to those things. It helps us grow.

Have you ever wondered what would happen to the people of North Korea if they were exposed to what it is like outside of North Korea? Can you just imagine? They have never been to a McDonald’s restaurant. They have never seen a K-POP video. They don’t carry smart phones, and don’t know what a search engine is. Imagine what a shock to their system it would be.

They are stuck there in their own echo chamber, in their own bubble of reality.

Just like us Americans. We too are stuck in a echo chamber and our own bubble of reality. My golly, that should most certainly be obvious after the 2016 election of Donald Trump and how outrageous the news media has become afterwards. Everyone is living this fake world and this fictional understanding of life. Everyone. From the news-babes on CNN, to the CEO of Starbucks. Everyone is living in some kind of Bizzaro World.

The weekends in Egypt are not same with ours!
This also broke my common sense, I thought the weekends is Saturday and Sunday all over the world! But there're Friday and Saturday in Egypt!

Anyways…

Let’s chat a little bit about stepping outside of the United States as an American Man, for just a spell. Just for a little bit of time, not for long. Just for a little bit. Then return back. Then to think about how to improve our life inside the United States. For now, we have a new and fresh perspective of what it is like outside the United State’s borders…

Step out. Look around. Step back.

Remember, I am a MAN, so this article is from my, a male’s perspective. I am sure a woman would have a totally different viewpoint. 

Why a man should leave America

If you’re an American living in the United States, I’m sorry, but you probably aren’t using your nationality to its fullest potential. Sure, you get to honor the flag during baseball games, barbecue hotdogs on the 4th of July and express your loud political opinion. But ultimately, the best way to celebrate your Americanism is to leave the USA.

-The Privileged Life of an American Living in Asia

Since I have been outside of the USA, I have lived a freer, happier life.  While I have tried to tell and relate this fact to the reader, it is just incomprehensible to most Americans because many have not left the United States. What I relate to and describe is completely foreign. I wish it wasn’t this way, I really do. However, that is simply the truth.

I will have to be honest, it wasn’t until after I left America that I really began to appreciate it.

As well as get really angry as to what it has become.

Here's just a few of the things that I have come to miss...

The first day of hunting season. A big garden full of tomato plants, peppers and onions. Football on lazy Sunday afternoons. The local sports section in the newspaper with photos of friends, relatives, and their kids. Fishing brook trout. A compound bow. A Ruben sandwich with real coleslaw. Rummaging around in a auto junkyard and scrounging some spare parts.

Meeting some friends at the local bar, or club. Chatting about the latest movies. Depth-charges, and pickled eggs. Cleaning out the gutter, and raking leaves. (Yeah, really.) My riding lawnmower.

My tree stand and salt lick.

Chilling out with my uncle while jazz played on the stereo in his living room. Having a "Dagwood" sandwich. The editorial section of the Pittsburgh Press. Taking my motorcycle out for a spin on a nice sunny summer day. "Lighting up" next to a hopper while the Indian summer breeze blew some leaves about.

You take these things for granted. It is not until you live without them that you begin to miss them, and appreciate them.

Here is an interesting little vignette from an American who went to visit a coffee-shop in Amsterdam, and discovers that instead of selling coffee, it sold weed and magic mushrooms!

Yeah right, coffee shop that doesn’t serve coffee, but space cakes and magic mushrooms. 

So, I am from a country where you get skinned, shot at, and hanged for having this stuff. 

Of course, now I had the freedom to do that, and hence, I headed to a coffeeshop. As a noob, I had no idea how this works. There was a “consultant” to assist you, like a pharmacist!” No kidding , that was crazy! 

I remember the lady introducing all the products from space cakes and magic mushrooms to philosophical stones and recommend that a noob like me to try the mushrooms. So I asked, “How do you eat this?”

She replied, “ Just eat it like eating French fries.”
Me after an hour : Damn the French fries was good!

-What was the biggest culture shock you ever faced?

This posting is inspired by an article titled “10 Reasons Why Heterosexual Men Should Leave America” written on 16DEC13 written by RooshV. As good as it is, it is (perhaps) a little too dominated by sexual excursions and other opinions by that author. It’s kind of a “turn off”, don’t you know.

Again, and I must REPEAT, this is not an article that bashes America. It is my suggestion that travel to different places, and exposure to different things is beneficial.

We all NEED to Grow

For us to grow and advance in both the physical and spiritual aspects of our beings, we need to adapt to the changing circumstances that surround us.  We need to adapt to the environment as we find it.  We need to do this with acceptance, and without trying to alter or change the environment; for it is only us who will be able to change. We can only change ourselves, not the environment around us.

In my case, I left the United States, and I moved to China.

Before I left to Beijing for my weekend trip, my friends from Macau & Hong Kong told me how air quality is going to be bad, smog everywhere, take a mask, etc., but when I went to Beijing, I saw bluest sky I have seen and air quality was excellent. When I showed some of my photos, no one would believe, then I saw an article in New York Times how china could change the climate and air quality if they want to. 


Not sure if this is true but it was a very beautiful day

-What culture shocks did you experience when coming to China

Well I moved to China.

As such, I needed to adapt to the Chinese way of doing things. Which was, in many ways, very different from what I have come to expect. This shock to my system, and what I have learned from it was eye opening. As such, I wish to write about some of the things that I have learned. Though, I will have to tell you (the reader) that many of what I will relate will not make any sense, and you will probably not believe me anyways.

“Most people do not believe traveller’s tales.”

-Glory Road

Differences are always good

I was in Singapore this Feb 2017. Our tour guide proudly asked us in the bus to look outside and tell us what they notice or see different than our country - India. Everyone looked outside, few minutes passed by and people shouted “Traffic police?”. She said, “Yes! We have no traffic police. Everything is monitored on the CCTV cameras. One of the reasons there is so much obedience in public”.

What a boring place the world would be if all we could eat was salt-free oatmeal, and warm water. Even for you oatmeal lovers out there, it would be boring. Day in and day out. The same old… same old. Lucky for us, it isn’t that way. We can choose to eat ice cream, pizza, pork chops, bacon, and French fries. What a wonderful situation!

Philly Cheese sandwich.
It is wonderful to have choices. Yet, many times we do not realize that we have choices. We are stuck in our groove of conformity. We always get a McDonalds burger, or a Starbucks coffee. We don’t think of alternatives. I argue that we should. For that is how we grow. Picture is of a Philly Cheese Steak sandwich.

If we wanted to, we could eat chicken fried steak with sunny-side-up eggs. We can eat butterscotch milkshakes and brownies. We can eat thick pan, double-stuffed pizza and wash it down with a pitcher of icy cold Budweiser. We can eat bagels and cream cheese and a wash it down with a nice hot cup of coffee with real cream. My goodness! Isn’t it great to be able to have choices?

That means, boys and girls, having choices is a good thing.

You can live in Boston if you want bagels and coffee from Duncan Donuts, or live in California if you want taquitos and coffee. You can live in Florida if you want nice sunny skies, or you can live in Wisconsin if you like ice fishing. Choices are good. Having different choices in different places are good.

That’s pretty important.

That is why it is so great to live in Europe. A two or three hour ride will take you to a different part of Europe with different customs, languages and lifestyle. Well, it used to, anyways. That is until the progressive started to run Brussels and dictate conformity throughout the EU. Anyways, I digress…

Different things are really great.

Tacos
Having different choices is food is a very good thing. You can have a taco if you are too tired of hotdogs, and hamburgers. I think that it is not just food, but drink as well. Instead of a icy coke, how about a nice frosty PBR or local beer? Different choices are a good thing.

It doesn’t matter what it is. Not really. Different types of food are nice. Like, for instance, getting a cup of coffee at the Café du monde in New Orleans as opposed to walking into a Starbucks franchise.

Not just about food and drink, mind you, but other things as well. How about having different pets. Having a few dogs around the house to liven it up, and having a few cats to mellow things out and keep everyone in line, is a good thing.

Or maybe having different cars. Like having a beat-up pickup to go mudslinging, or a cheap car to commute to work back and forth, or having a nice big Lincoln to go out to the lounge in the big city.

Different is good. It is really, really good.

Burger platter
You know, seemingly small things can make a big difference. Consider using a different kind of bread or cheese on your hamburger. You expand the taste and I dare say…improve it! Maybe a cooked sweet pepper, or some crumbly blue cheese, and olives. Hey, don’t just snort in incredulity, Try it.

We need to Broaden our Experiences

Now, I contend that the greater your experiences are with different things, the broader your personality becomes.

For instance, I never had any Mexican (or Tex-Mex) food until after I graduated from university. Yet, when I had my first taco and burrito, I became hooked. How I could, I possibly live in a world without refried beans, melted cheese, and tacos? Since then, this type of food expanded my experiences. It made me a better person. And, perhaps, a little thicker around the middle.

club sandwich
How about a fine club sandwich to put a nice big smile on your face. I really like to eat it with a side of coleslaw and some thick “Texas” fries, and a nice cup of “bottom-less” coffee (or sweet iced tea). Yum!

It doesn’t mean that all that I ate before (my discovery of Mexican food) was bad, it is just that I found another food that I like just as well as (stuffed) pork chops, pizza and double tomato hamburgers. It was equal.

Later, when I experienced “real” Southern cooking and had my first “real” BBQ in Mississippi, I added yet another food to my list of favorites. Shortly after that, I added deep-fried catfish, pickled tomatoes, and hushpuppies.  Some of the things that I was exposed to completely replaced the old “standbys”. For instance, once I had “real” Southern mint iced tea, I never bought a regular “iced tea” from a fast food restaurant ever again.

My experiences expanded me.

Muslims male could have more than one wife.
My Egyptian friends told me that the Muslims in Egypt could have four wives maximum, that's legal.

having experiences is good. That is a good thing. We have to keep on constantly pushing, striving and working on growth. Instead of just ordering the same $5 pepperoni pizza from Domino’s pizza, mix it up a little and try a Greek gyro with salad and French fries. Instead of a number #2 meal out of Burger King, order their new “signature” special and try it out for a change. Instead of drinking a Coke out of the 7-11, go a little nuts and drink a Dr. Pepper. Let your “hair down”, live a little bit.

Stop going to McDonalds and KFC all the time. Go to “Quaker Steak & Lube“, “Submarina“, “The Hat“, “Portillo’s Restaurants“, “Duchess“, “The Varsity“, “Honey Dew Donuts“, “Bojangles“, “Runza“, “Arctic Circle“, or “Blake’s Lotaburger“.

Please, believe me. You should try different things.

Not all hamburgers are the same. Fast food is NOT about a basic McDonalds hamburger. It can be anything. There are choices out there you know. You have choices. You can decide what YOU want to eat. Your choices are not limited to either [1] a cheeseburger, [2] a big mac, or [3] a quarter pounder.

Step outside your comfort zone. The world is filled with all kinds of things that are are quite different from what you have grown accustomed to. Different is good. Listen to me, different is GOOD.

It’s not only about food either. It’s about everything.

Party on Hangover II
Yeah, the Hollywood movie “Hangover II” was a fiction, but the life that it represents can be easily obtained. You just need to step out of your comfort zone and experience new things. Anyways, who wouldn’t mind hanging out with your best friends with a monkey in a “Rolling Stones” vest, drinking VSOP?

This includes different types of personalities, different fashions, different styles of buildings, different weather, different  ways of doing things. Each one has their good and bad aspects. There is no “best” way to do anything. You can select and you can choose.

They use almost every part of the animal in their food. It was a shock when I ordered Chicken in my hotpot, expecting just the meat and find that there is literally a chicken head, chicken feet etc. in my soup.

Don’t fall for the conventional narrative that there is only ONE best way to do things (the way everyone else does things). You are your own person. You can make your decisions and you own choices.

You, yes YOU, can decide.

"I certainly had no idea about sex until I was 52 and living in Asia. 

But I didn’t understand what I was missing either, so can sympathize with a lot of the white guys living in their home towns. 

I don’t even bother telling my pals back home about sex out here, they just claim I’m lying, or at best think I’m lying."

-John

We need to Push and Strive

You have to push to learn and improve your life.

Unless you push, strive and experience, you will become fat and lazy. We have to constantly push ourselves to be better people. To do this we need to strive. Strive to be good men. Strive to be good fathers. Strive to be great employees. Strive to do what is the best. Strive to learn.

"Of course the game is rigged. Don't let that stop you--if you don't play, you can't win."

-Robert Heinlein

In most cases this will not happen if all you do is sit on your lazy-boy and play video games all day. You need to break out of what you know and enter the realm of what you don’t know. You need to go “outside” and experience other ways of doing things, and other ways of thinking. This might mean that the way pizza is made in Chicago tastes better to you, than the way pizza is made in New York City. Or not. Maybe you end up liking both types of pizza. (Like I do.)

A slice of pizza is delicious.
Pizza is just awesome, but you know what? There are different kinds of pizza, and different kinds of styles. I think that they are all awesome. Though, I not a big fan of oyster and mussels on a pizza, personally.

But there will be one take-away from your comparative experience. That is, at least you will know the difference between a pizza in Chicago and one in New York. That knowledge is a good thing.

Next time that you eat a slice of your favorite pizza, you will end up appreciating it even more.

Different Food can be found in Different Nations

I have to tell you that I have eaten some of the most amazing food, that I ever ate, in China. You know the Chinese-American food “General’s Tso’s Chicken”? Well, you should try the real authentic Chinese dish; Gongbaojiding.

Real Chinese food
According to Wikipedia; Kung Pao chicken is a Sichuan cuisine originated in the Sichuan Province of south-western China and includes Sichuan peppercorns. The dish is found throughout China, there are regional variations that are typically a little less spicy than the Sichuan serving.

I have to tell you that Thai food is amazingly delicious. I also love the noodle dishes from Vietnam. Singapore and Malaysia has some of the best and tasty dishes that I ever ate. Australia has some pretty awesome steaks, and my goodness, the cheese out of New Zealand is absolutely amazing.

Come on! If you haven’t had Guinness stout on tap, you haven’t lived.

via GIPHY

And… Please understand, there are some amazing wines out of Chile and Australia. You owe it to yourself to try some, if just once. You should understand why many Australians are so relaxed about life, and why everyone says that Morocco is a cool place to visit. You need to go there and learn.

OK. Well, I would hope that I made my point.

The world is filled with all kinds of things. These things are both good and bad. You should not rely on some television or Internet “expert” to tell YOU which is good or bad. I argue that you should go out and sample them yourself.

So, please don’t get too upset. I personally think that YOU, the reader, should know what you want and what you like. You are the expert on YOUR life.

It's like the mainstream news media getting upset because we go to the internet for our news. We do not need the info-babe telling us what the President said. We can listen to his speech directly ourselves.

You are the expert of YOUR life. You can decide what you like and what you don’t like.

Why you should expose yourself to other ways of living…

You, the reader, should not get mad but I really think that YOU should be the one who decides what you like and what you don’t like. Not some “expert” who tells you what to eat, how to live, where to live and what to do.

"Once you go abroad it’s difficult to go back. 

My first extended experience living overseas opened my eyes in a variety of ways. People will always be people but I believe that culture is the single biggest influence on people. There is definitely something wrong with America in this respect. 

America may be a lot of good things.. productive, prosperous, and relatively free but the socialization of its citizens is much less advanced than other (much more economically poorer) countries I’ve been in. 

The way I look at it quality of life isn’t just all about money. It’s about what you can do with yourself in that society and how comfortable you feel around others. 

In America I was never truly “comfortable” but always felt tense or slightly agitated at the people around me. There’s definitely a hostility and tenseness to social interaction there that I don’t feel anywhere else. 

That’s a lot of negativity to deal with daily so it’s not surprising that out of all industrialized first world countries Americans generally have the least healthy lifestyles and shortest overall life spans.”

-Happierabroad

With this being made clear, let’s take a look at why an American man should step out of America from time to time and sample the customs elsewhere…

[1] It is not as bad as you fear

First of all, other nations are not as bad off as you have been led to believe.

Being in a echo chamber, with our only window outside of the USA is the news media, gives us a really warped idea of life. Particularly, life outside of the United States. If you believe the American news media, the world is a cold dark sooty place, with only the United States glowing in the light.

Hah!

Let me be the first to correct this crazy perception. Nope! It is not that way at all. Those pesky Russkies are in so many ways like your typical middle class American. Those evil commie Chinese are like Americans from the 1950’s. Those Africans from Zambia and Kenya are more conservative than the most conservative Republican can ever be.

What you think is real, it all just a big friggin’ lie!

Hey guys, there just aren’t any high speed trains in the USA. We stopped making advances in rail technology when the American government took over control of the rail. via GIPHY

When I first stepped foot outside, I was stunned. Heck! They had toll booths, ATM machines, cell-phones, taxis, and universities. People wore the same clothes that I did. I could get sunny side up eggs and a great freshly brewed coffee just about anywhere. The girls were amazingly attractive, and the girls in Australia all had these lion manes for hair. It was stunning.

Good golly! The girls are friggin’ stunning. Korean, Chinese, Australian, Singaporean, Zambian… Zambian… oh, did I say Zambian? Stunning!

Korean girls via GIPHY

People had homes with yards, garages, sun-porches, dining rooms, and nice Western-style bathrooms.

Sure they did things differently, but it really wasn’t all that bad. It most certainly doesn’t look like a “Save the Children” commercial, or a Brazilian garbage dump. Other nations have weather girls, news programs, forensics television shows, and often many rights that are no longer available to Americans…

Especially, the freedom to keep your personal records private.

Yes, they have highways. They have their own local pop music. They play games on their smart phones, and they like to fish. Guys like to watch sports, and really get involved in it. Men do household chores and everyone really cares for their children.

Speaking of children. In fact, I was stunned that children in Thailand can buy and own firearms! I was under the impression that American was the ONLY nation that had the “second amendment”. Boy, oh boy was I wrong. I was terribly wrong.

Thailand Guns.
Any Thai citizen can buy a gun in Thailand. There are no age limitations, or a need for federal registration or background checks. Thailand residents are fully trusted by their citizens to own guns of all types, and calibers. Including full automatic weapons.

When the democrats are eventually successful in repealing the second amendment, American will obviously need to look to Thailand as the beacon of liberty and freedom.

Anyways…

People in other nations have pets, often treating them like children (for example like in China), and not breeding them as food like CNN likes to announce. And speaking about lies from the media, all these “bird flu” conflagrations are all nonsense. The various illnesses that are developed overseas will not kill you. It is all a manufactured reality to keep you in fear.

And, by the way, Christmas Trees will not kill you. No matter what the big media wants to convince you.

In short, and in summary, the rest of the earth outside of the United States is not what you think it is.

Travelling will make you take a good hard look at what you thought was reality. via GIPHY

[2] You will get to experience real FREEDOM

Another big thing is that you get to compare and contrast. You get to see what “freedom” actually and really is.

Once, you as an American, leave the United States you will finally get to feel what real freedom is like. This is a really big thing with me, as I feel very betrayed by our elected politicians. Today, for the vast bulk of Americans, we DO NOT KNOW what real freedom is.

"But the biggest culture shock of all was that it never felt like you were in a communist country at all"

-What culture shocks did you fell when you visited China?

In the USA we always talk about how “free” America is. We talk about it, we sing about it, we praise it, but we don’t live it. We have forgotten what real freedom is. We are just talk about it. It’s all talk, talk, talk.

Yadda… yadda…yadda.

I wonder how many people, not just Americans but those in other countries, have come to the conclusion that the United States today is a less free and less aware society than the societies in the dystopian novels of the 20th century or in movies such as The Matrix and V for Vendetta. 

Just as people in the dystopian novels had no idea of their real situation, few Americans do either. 

 -Paul Craig Roberts

It’s a truly sad situation, where we don’t realize how absolutely decimated our freedom has become. We think we are “free” when we have to report to the IRS. We believe that we are free when need to show a driver’s license to buy a beer. We are convinced that all is good, and our freedom is intact, when CNN announces that the President suspended habeas corpus. We pat ourselves on the back for exposing the crimes of the FBI. 

A truly free society wouldn’t NEED a FBI, let alone use it against the citizens.

Yah, we parrot what the News Media says. “We are FREE!” in the best nation on the planet forever!” Woo Woo.

“Americans should travel internationally, especially in Asia. When they return to the States they will see what a police state it has turned into.”

-roddy6667 Jan 8, 2018 3:19 AM

Yeah. It becomes obvious.

America has laws for just about everything, and high police budgets ensure you’re always watched by those in power.

via GIPHY

This means everything. All behavior is policed, and it is so very easy to get arrested. In America you are always watching out for the police. We no longer even notice it. It has become an automatic reaction, like when you look down at your speedometer when you see a police car nearby. This all means you’re one party away from getting arrested and going to jail.

Foreign countries are different.

An absence of heavy police presence, combative women, nanny state laws, and surveillance cameras means that you can enjoy your time instead of worrying about getting arrested. Take some beers to beach or drink in the park with your group of friends. Drink a beer in the open or on a city bus. It’s not a problem.

Remember, boys and girls, true freedom is stinky and messy. The more organized and proper a nation is, the less free it is.

[3] You will begin to compare different nations to the USA objectively

You can compare the things that matter to you.

It doesn’t matter what the think-tank in Washington D.C. says about a particular nation. Or, what the Washington Post has to say about you not being taxed enough. You can decide for yourself.

Instead of parroting the narrative that the United States the best and greatest nation in the history of the universe, you will actually get a chance to decide for yourself.

You will see what the differences are from the USA to another nation. You can compare eating a breakfast in your home town against one in Indonesia. You will be able to compare dating a girl in Vietnam as opposed to one in your home town. You will be able to compare the costs of buying groceries in Australia as opposed to buying them in your home town.

You will be physically able to make your very own comparisons yourself.

North Korea
North Korea is very clean and sanitary. It has laws for just about everything. As a result the people obey the laws or suffer the consequences. Look at all the people living their lives in joyous abandon! Nope! It is a sterile but beautiful place.

In places where there just isn’t very much freedom, there is a tendency to be boxed in by rules and regulations. People are afraid to go out and live life. They hide for the most part. When they do go out, they are very well behaved and keep to themselves.

They don’t bother to direct any attention to themselves, least a police officer come over and arrest them. The trash cans are all clean, and there isn’t much in the way of litter. There are no beggars on the streets, and the buildings are all pristine and sanitary.

Kish island in Iran
Americans don’t get many opportunities to see what Iran is like. It is a big black news layout. All we know is that it is a theocracy, or a nation run by strict adherence to Islamic law. As a result it is a very organized and clean nation. But, it is not a free nation.

In places where there is freedom, people are permitted and allowed to experience life. But you know what? Freedom is not pristine and controlled. It is stinky, messy and chaotic. People go about and live their lives in crazy abandon.

Freedom is where you are permitted to live your life free of interference.

All the laws, and all the police, and all the regulations are considered a “price one must pay”. It is considered the price that you must accept to “live in the greatest nation on the earth”. America has the “Bill of Rights” that are always protected. No one will ever try to take away the freedom to speak, or your guns, or your ability to worship as you wish. Not in America!  It’s just the price you must pay if you want to be an American.

Which, of course, leads me to think about things.

Water market in Thailand. Here, people sell things on the water by boat. This would be regulated into oblivion in the United States. Why you wouldn’t be able to do anything because of “mah children!”via GIPHY

[4] Comparisons will be stark

Comparisons on FREEDOM between the USA and China

So, in comparison with my Chinese friends, I have discovered that I have more freedom in China than what I had in the United States.

WHAT?????

No shit, Dick Tracy… Let me explain.

Here in China, the IRS won’t come smashing my door down at three in the morning with an armored vehicle. I don’t ever have to report my yearly income to them, and there are no help-lines to assist me in doing my taxes. You simply don’t need them. The Chinese never have to report anything to their government.

One of the first things that I noticed when I moved to China…

The sad truth of the matter is that we as a people have been too propagandized and naïve to admit how corrupt and vicious our government has become, irrespective of who resides in the oval office. 

Our current problems are deeply systemic and therefore cannot be solved by obsessing over the symptoms and switching out a president. 

We need to face reality before we can recover as a society, and to do this we must admit certain uncomfortable truths.

Most significantly, we need to come to terms with the dangers of allowing extremely secretive and all-powerful agencies to multiply and grow to the extent they have. 

When well-documented abuses from the NSA, CIA and FBI go on for decades with little to no accountability, what do you think’s going to happen?

Meanwhile, superficial pundits and hack politicians are out there telling us about how great the FBI is, yet historical facts point to the opposite conclusion. 

That this is an agency that’s always been more focused on protecting the status quo than protecting the people. 

Are we supposed to pretend that the FBI didn’t write a letter to Martin Luther King Jr. telling him to kill himself? Are we supposed to pretend COINTELPRO didn’t happen?

- Mike Krieger via Liberty Blitzkrieg blog

One of the very first things that I noticed was that China has roads. Nice, really nice and beautiful roads. Roads with well-tended gardens on both sides filled with flowers and decorative trees.

We need taxes, we are told. You know, for roads and infrastructure...

They have high speed trains, and all sorts of infrastructure. Yet, surprisingly  the people don’t seem to be raped by taxes for every little thing. In fact the opposite is true. They have one tax. Only ONE single tax., and it is a small one.

You want a bottle of coke, it costs you 1 yuan. Not $2.98 with tax. You are never, and I mean NEVER, trying to figure out the overall costs of something you buy. A noodle lunch costs 15 yuan. A liter of gas is 4 yuan. A bag of betel nuts costs 10 yuan. Simple costs. Simple math. No hidden taxes at all.

American state police.
Here is Freedom – American style. People, listen up! America is a police state. It really and actually is. Once you leave the United States you actually see how much it has become a big nasty police state.

So China has roads, bridges, infrastructure, and it’s nicer and newer than what we have in the states. So, why do Americans pay so much in taxes, and get so little back in return?

Personally, I think that there is a significant amount of kick-backs, corruption and graft in the various American governments. There is also an enormous amount of waste. Why is the USA constantly at war? Why are taxes constantly going up and up and up, and the government is just giving the money away to everyone EXCEPT the American people?

Here in China, the FDA will not shut down my business because of some complaint. I can refuse service to anyone for any reason. I can take and buy any drug that I want. I can chew a betel nut and not feel afraid of the police. You can buy any drug ever made by man, at ridiculously low prices, and yet, the Chinese just don’t have an Opioid Addiction crisis. Why is that? Think about it. I do not need PERMISSION to put something else in my body, food, drug, or smoke. No permission is required.

Here, the DHS will not freeze my papers and subject me to household detention for undisclosed reasons. They won’t arrest my children for trying to sell lemonade in my front yard. They won’t run their armored personnel carriers and tanks on my rose bushes.

DHS vehicle
The Constitution clearly forbids stationing troops on American soil, as they could be used against American citizens. But it doesn’t matter. The government did it anyways. Only instead of calling it an army, they call it the DHS.

But, you know, it’s much more than that. It is everything…

So many things we take for granted. It’s almost like we view the cleanliness and design of our handcuffs as a sign of freedom.

The biggest culture shock I ever lived was in Texas. I was arrested, Starsky-and-Hutch style, and jailed, basically for excessive speed.

I was on a visit at Texas A&M University at College Station, when friends from Dallas (ca. 180 miles = 300 km north) invited me for the Easter weekend. On the I-45 motorway, I drove at 80-90 mph, so as to alleviate the boredom from the long and monotonous route. 

I was aware of the speed limit at 75 mph, but I felt safe as most drivers did the same, and some drove even faster.

As I was getting close to Dallas, I noticed a police car behind me, with its red lights on. Based on the way the police behave in most countries, I took this for a request to make way. So I pulled over to the right lane and slowed down a little; and I didn’t bother more about it. Then, I noticed the police were still there, but I didn’t understand what was going on. 

I guessed they were after somebody, but did not figure out it was me: on the one hand, I wasn’t driving faster than most people around; on the other hand, I never thought they would quietly stay behind me if they wanted me to stop — my generation wasn’t addicted to U.S. series. 

Our home-grown cops order drivers to stop, not by staying behind them, but by moving to their left and signalling with the right arm. I was beginning to find the situation weird, when another police car came to my left, and a policeman signalled me to stop. I immediately did.

Then the big show began. The policemen yelled at me to get out of the car and put my hands on it. One was pointing a gun at me. I complied; they frisked and handcuffed me. They asked me why I hadn’t stopped at once; I answered that I had not understood. 

At first they obviously didn’t believe me, but I explained that the practice is different in my country. They insisted that I had no valid driver’s licence, as I didn’t possess a Texan one. However, I showed them both my French licence and an International Driving Permit, which is recognised in Texas. I had purposely fetched it at my prefecture before leaving France.

I felt eerie, as though I had gone out of my body, and watched myself caught in a cheesy crime TV series. Without subtitles: my command of spoken English is sufficient for daily communication but, well, not perfect. Broad Texan shouted at machine-gun speed, with a twang as thick as guacamole, is a bit of a challenge for me.

Progressively, I figured out the situation. Those who had chased me first were from Ellis County, and the one who had signalled me to stop was from Dallas County. I had crossed a county line, so the Ellis policemen had to request the help of the Dallas police. 

I had made them look like fools before their colleagues, so they were quite upset. But my crossing the county line also qualified as “evading arrest”, and evading arrest in a motor vehicle is a felony in Texas law. The Ellis County policemen called their superiors; after a one-hour wait in their car, still handcuffed, I learned that I was going to be taken to jail. The cheesy HBO nightmare was going on.

So I was introduced to the Ellis County jail in Waxahachie, Texas. The inner child thought: “What a name! Sounds like the chant of the Indian warrior, after he has captured the white guy who ventured too far, and tied him to the torture post”. My adult self added: “They have killed and removed the Indians, but they have kept the tortures”.

The prison personnel seemed surprised to see someone jailed for an offence he did not knowingly commit. They even said the charges should be dropped, as I did not know the custom and had never been arrested before. But, anyway, the sheriff had ordered to jail me, so they had to accommodate me. 

The check-in formalities are surprising. For instance the disinfection shower: you undress, a guy comes with a big sprayer like those used in vineyards, and sprays the cold stinking disinfectant on you, first front, then rear. You put on a heavy brownish overall. 

If you ask for reading material, they give you a Bible, a special edition with a foreword saying that God forgives even the worst offenders. Why not? This was Good Friday, after all. I read all of St Matthew and half of St John during my stay.

It was time to proceed to the detention room. I was quite anxious, expecting to spend the night in a cell with a few hardened felons, and wondering how they would deal with me. Fortunately, petty offenders are kept in large dormitories of 40-odd beds, with a TV set, tables… and a jailer staying in all the time. No way to pick on anybody when 40 witnesses and an armed guard are present.

I won’t say it was a pleasant time, but it was interesting. There was the local drug pusher, locked up without bail until his judgment: he was accused of “destroying evidence”, because he was cleaning his weed pipe when he was arrested. 

There was the blockhead who had tried to steal the sheriff’s own bathtub. Everybody was baffled by my story; Hispanic people were surprised to see a blue-eyed and fair-haired guy so ignorant of Anglo-Saxon habits and culture.

People had a deck of cards, they asked if I would play with them. I tried to teach them belote; obviously it was too tricky… I was asked many interesting questions: Do you have McDonald’s in France? Do you have Twinkies? This one puzzled me: I didn’t know the stuff. 

They offered me one! Let me thank them: the “official” meal that came on the morning was the most disgusting of my whole life. 

As they had taken all my money from me, I only had the normal prison grub, while the inmates could buy crisps, sweets and cakes. The drug pusher — a smart guy, actually — explained to me that the whole prison system was geared toward extracting as much money as possible from the inmates. A shocking revelation.

There came the curfew; I had to find a bed. To my surprise, I realised that the dorm was neatly divided: the whites on the left, the blacks on the right. And the only place left was in the black section. 

Just below me was, say, the kingpin. During hours and hours, he kept talking to his visibly sycophantic neighbours, yelling “wawawawaw Nig**r… wawawawaw Bro”. I just could catch those two words. Once he turned to me and, switching to more standard English, ironically commented “This is a f**king professor at A&M…” before returning to his mumbo-jumbo. 

Was the irony directed at me, or at the system that had put me there? I didn’t get it. Frankly, I would rather have slept, but I found it ill-advised to complain about the loud neighbourhood.

The next morning, I was called to arraignment. Of course, I didn’t know the word; I drew a smile from the jailer by ingenuously asking: “who is Raymond?” A judge first lectured me in legal gobbledegook, I panicked as I just could catch one word now and then. He explained to me again in plain English: the case was not dropped, but I could be released if I paid a sum of money. 

The jailer who had accompanied me expressed again his surprise that the charges had not been dropped. I could call my friends from Dallas, they undertook the formalities for my release. Together we discovered the fantastic world of bail bond agencies, roamed the county to find the pound where my car had been taken (no one had told me about its whereabouts)… One of their neighbours gave me the business card of a lawyer.

I flew back to France as soon as I could, shivering with the fear that one could detain me. The judicial process ran its course. The grand jury did not dismiss the case, but finally my lawyer negotiated the re-qualification. The “evading arrest” charge was dropped. I was fined twice, once for excessive speed, once for “failure to give right of way”. The total cost of this fine little joke (bail deposit + car pound + lawyer fees + fines) was almost $10,000.

I never came back to the US. In the form that must be filled to obtain the “visa waiver” (actually, almost as complicated as the visa was), there is one question: 

“Have you ever been arrested or detained in the U.S.?” I can’t even think of that.

-What was the biggest culture shock you ever faced?

America is a de facto police state. It is not just the local town and state police, but it is the entire federal apparatus.

The FDA will not require me to have a doctor write me a prescription. Nor will they ban anything. Instead, I can simply go to a pharmacy and ask for a drug and they will give it to me, no questions asked. I do not NEED to have a doctor prescribe ED medication. I go to the pharmacy and tell the woman behind the counter what I want. She gives it to me at a fraction of the price available in the United States. I do not need to ask PERMISSION.

The FCC will not limit my bandwidth on my cell phone. They will not monitor or restrict what I can watch, write, say or listen to. They won’t limit it, and I don’t need to ask PERMISSION to change it.

The NSA will not be monitoring, recording, and indexing all my computer activity. Nobody will care. It’s true, and I say this as I am in mainland China, supposedly behind the “Great Firewall of China”. Yeah, more bullshit American propaganda. Dudes, what you think China is … is a big piece of bullshit propaganda.

The NRO (National Reconnaissance Office) won’t be proudly launching spy satellites over my house with logos that look like they came from the evil side of the a 007 James Bond movie.

NROL-39
NROL-39 Nothing is beyond our reach. Looks like a logo from Dr. No or some other 007 James Bond villain.

The CIA won’t be trying to spy on my though my household appliances. They won’t be trying to blackmail me with some attractive prostitute. Though, I kinda wish that they would try…

The FBI won’t be monitoring my email, or smashing down the offices of my attorney. Putting me on a “hit list” of politically connected people, or trying to frame me for some obscure crime or two. And while on on this subject, why do American police dress like SS Storm troopers? Why? Why is the FBI permitted to act and behave exactly like the dreaded Nazi Gestapo?

Evil Peter Strzok
Peter Strzok in his meeting with Congress. He pledged to have systems to prevent an elected President from taking office, and promised that those who voted for the President would not get their wishes fulfilled. Instead, he would take care of it, as he had backup plans.

However, here in China I am not subject to the American police state. The FBI has no jurisdiction here. I can live my life AS I SEE FIT, not as how the busybodies in government think it should be lived.

I can pick up a water cannon and enjoy the holidays without worry that I might upset someone.

Songkran water festival. Try doing this in the United States. You will probably be shot on the spot. None of the water guns have the red caps at the end, and Lord only knows what will happen if some busybody biddy gets wet! Yikes! via GIPHY

Now, to someone sitting in front of their computer in the United States, this is all very interesting, but doesn’t mean much. “So what?” you ask. We have the Second Amendment, and we have Habeas corpus.  Yes, we do. But, you know what? They are not enforced. Not a day goes by without them being infringed.

Habeas Corpus is meaningless if basic English Common Law is not observed.

Not one elected official is defending the Bill of Rights. Not on the federal level, and not on the state level.

Before the reader “has a cow”, let it be understood that what I am discussing is day-to-day freedom and liberty. This is the freedom and lifestyle that you experience every day.  This is how you live your life in doing your normal activities. These are the simple things in life.  These things include working; eating, spending time with your family, travel, saving money, and spending money.  These are the comparatives.  These are the measurables and the deliverables that one can use to actually determine how free they are.  As well as comparatively determine their overall standard of living compared to the rest of the world.

So instead of pretending to be a “blue ribbon panel”, or “think tank” sitting high up in an “ivory tower”, get off your high horse, and experience life with me.

Life is what YOU personally experience.

It is not what is described to you that you SHOULD experience. True freedom is being able to plant a garden in your front lawn. It is being able to build a geodesic dome on the roof of your house, and being able to make your own home-made moonshine in your basement…

…all without worry that the police will come smashing your door down and throwing you in prison for fifteen years.

Freedom is being able to live your life, to act and think, and do things to your own body without worry that someone else will be offended. True and real freedom is being able to sit down, order a super sized coke, and sunny-side up eggs in a restaurant in New Jersey with your dog sitting next to you on the sofa, and not worry about being arrested. You can do this in friggin’ communist China, but are forbidden to do so in the “land of the free”, the United States.

Dudes! This – is – NOT – freedom.

Once you leave the United States, you get a taste for REAL freedom.

Freedom in Thailand.
Freedom is the ability to live our lives as we want without interference. Liberty is the ability to practice freedom without restriction.

Freedom is never having to take a drug test for anyone, for any reason, at any time. Freedom is never having to fill out a transcription of all the money your earned, and ask for deductions to the all-powerful IRS. Freedom is the ability to withdraw all of your money from your bank when you want without consequence.

Caution: Wet Floor signs in clear view after someone mopped the tiled entrance of a hotel? Nope. 

Guard rails on steep trails, foot paths, or overhangs on cliffs? Not really. 

Red tape or warning signs around crumbling sidewalks or two foot wide uncovered man holes? Nada. 

We do admit seeing a Caution: Hard Hat Area sign where construction was being performed. Yeah, several times, actually.

At first we were startled to see such lack of warning signs in Thailand. How could people properly function in society without being spoon fed safety warnings?! But the longer we lived here, the more refreshing it was. One can argue that Thai citizens and foreigners are expected to open their eyes and take responsibility for their own actions.

And you know what? Using common sense works!

To this day, no one we know has gotten hurt by their own lack of awareness and tried suing the life blood from the company or property where the accident happened. Americans, take a hint!

-Tieland to Thailand

Freedom is the ability to light a cigarette at the dinner table in a restaurant. Freedom is not being politically correct. Freedom is doing unhealthy things to your own body. Freedom is home-schooling your children. Freedom is being able to build a tree-house on your property without a permit.

Freedom is having a ladder that doesn’t have any safety warnings on it. It means having a mattress that you are allowed to tear the tag off of. It is the ability to buy beer in a grocery store on Sunday. It is the ability to ride a bicycle without a helmet, safety gloves or arm protection. It is the ability to give your child a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in public without confrontation.

It is the ability to OWN a house, and never, ever…ever pay any kinds of taxes on it.

The mere fact that I have to describe this, and elaborate on it, in such detail is an indicator to how far down the culture and society of America has fallen.

So yeah, when you leave the United States you will be able to do things that are forbidden in the United States. You will feel free simply because you will no longer feel afraid to do the “wrong” thing.

China has freedom and liberty.
Here is a shout out for real freedom. There is nothing better than living life on your own terms, and doing so without guilt or regret. That is what true and real freedom and liberty is all about.

[5] You will experience less anxiety

In USA nothing is easy. Nothing is efficient. To pay rent, you have to use a check? I have never written a check at that time . The last time I got a check was maybe 5 years ago, from my Uncle. 

Getting an apartment takes so long as opposed to other countries I have lived in where it's just a handshake. That's it. 

I went to the post office yesterday, and I was waiting in line for maybe an hour—and there were only five people in front of me. 

I felt like I went from a Western country to a third-world country. People here with money have access to things, but the rest of the people are just trying to survive."

You will experience less anxiety.

via GIPHY

To an American it seems like an insurmountable mountain that one must climb. You have to buy tickets, often expensive, smash through language barriers and deal with customs that you don’t understand. Plus, on top of that, you just don’t know anyone there. It seems impossible.

But it isn’t.

"I think generally, the biggest culture shock that people experience in the US is not between their country and the US but between what they thought the US would be and what it actually is. 

Books and movies about America make the place appear very free and exciting and happening and the people are so interesting and emotional. There is sex and fun and romance going on. 

When they arrive, the place looks very conservative and the people appear robotic and quiet. Sex is subdued and hard to come by. The people are not open at all, they look closed and mistrustful. 

Everybody is just working and looking tired and apathetic. 

Talking to strangers is taboo. There are thousands of little rules and laws and social mores that seem as dogmatic and strict as those in a Muslim society. And every time you are at risk of breaking yet another law and facing very dire consequences. That is the biggest culture shock of all." 

-Happierabroad

When I first moved to China, I didn’t understand that most people use WeChat and email, and social media to communicate. Packages are sent by TNT. ChinaPost worked, but was generally slow and being phased out. I needed to get up to speed with the new and different ways of doing things.

In America, I was always worried about the police. That was the case even though I was doing nothing wrong. I have been pulled over just so the cop can see my license. I have been observed just because. I have heard stories of how the police find out that you have money and just simply take it for themselves. That is NOT freedom.

In China, I am never fearful of the police. They tend to be very laid back. It’s almost a “Mayberry RFD” vibe. Yeah, going to China forced me to learn new things. Learning was uncomfortable.

Like how those electronic mail lockers worked, how to use DD, and how to use a squatter toilet without falling over myself.

For many years in the United States, I took anti-anxiety medication to control the work stress of life. I took Buspar and Trazadone and they certainly helped me, but you know what, I don’t need them in China.

via GIPHY

I no longer have bosses throwing chairs in the conference room, HR that patrol the halls making sure that the “sterile desk policy” is being enforced, and gossipy coworkers. It is fairly rare to be laid-off without notice, the police won’t arrest you for jay-walking, and you don’t need to prove anything to any faceless government bureaucrat.

These common-place American things are unheard of in China.

The sustained constant beat of stressors on your life will no longer be present. You will start to feel free. That feeling is wonderful.

via GIPHY

[6] You will be exposed to more traditional human beings

The world is filled with all kinds of people. However the childish notion that a large percentage of people are gay, lesbian, transgender or some other kind of hyphenated and abused minority is simply not true.

In the United States, this narrative is being shoved down our collective throats with impunity. But, it’s all a big lie. It is a manufactured construct for purposes of control.

It is a big lie.

As an American, I particularly HATE being lied to.

Most people outside the United States have real traditional values, and run their families in a very traditional manner. The man works, and he does what ever it takes to feed his family. The wife stays at home, she takes care of the family and provides a safe haven for the family. She is the anchor of the family unit.

The woman is measured by her appearance and how well her family is treated.  Even the poorest family will have a clean home, and the best meals that the family can provide will be given to the children.

"Thankfully, traditional beliefs are alive and well in many foreign countries, and homosexuals have to be more respectful of how they behave in public. 

Another benefit to more traditional societies is that women understand their role of appearing beautiful and submitting to strong men, something that is sorely missing in American culture.

Once you live in a country where women spend more time looking good for an afternoon walk than American women do when they go to the club with their grenade friends, it’s really hard to go back."

-RooshV

Heck, the girls I knew in Zambia were more traditional than white American conservative grandmothers. It surprised me. I was expecting something similar to the monolithic liberal African-American personality.

I was wrong.

They really know how to treat their men. Let me tell you!

My shirts were always folded “new package” style. Everything was pristine and spit shined. Clothes were crisp and creased perfectly.  Dinners were hand made with a balance between taste and what was good for me.

The lady of the house would not only prepare it, but would dress up for it!

It was like a formal dinner with a head of state. Dinners were laid out formally because I was the “man of the house”. I was provided with “my chair”, and absolutely NO ONE was permitted to sit in it, except me.

Folded shirt
Properly folded shirt. This is how all my shirts were washed, cleaned, starched, and ironed. This woman was from Lusaka, in Zambia and let me tell you that they are proper, conservative in values and very much know how to really their men properly.

It is a different feeling and experience to be given such a degree of respect.

To be respected by others. To be treated with respect, and to be held in high regard by others who were polite and proper makes a big difference in your life. Once you are treated with respect, you will never go to somewhere you are not.

Compare that to the huge “white water buffaloes” with attitude, that pass for American women today, and the contrast is stunning.

[7] You can be yourself without shame or fear of exile

I am sure that there will be those offended by my statement about “white water buffaloes” with attitude, but that is just what they are called out here.

There is nothing particularly right or wrong about that, it is exactly what it is. Fat obese chicks with poor manners, unkempt appearance, and foul aggressive manners. It’s horrible and disgusting. Here in Asia, these examples of the female form, are laughed at and snickered to behind their backs.

And guess, what else?

I can say it without shame or social exile. I just did.

Real freedom is to live life without fear. Not a fear of saying something politically incorrect. Not a fear of saying something that sounds hurtful. Not just fear from the IRS, or the latest swine flue from China, but fear of being yourself.

You can live your life on your terms.

Hey! You want to pull out a pocket knife and carve up an apple on the bus, go for it. No one will bat an eye. Hey! You want to take your dog with you while you take a dip in the hotel swimming pool? Good for you. Just go and do it. Hey you want to drink some XO on the porch and watch the pretty girls go by? Do it, as no one is going to take notice.

You can speak your mind, and say your piece.

That’s REAL freedom.

[8] You will pay less for healthier food and a better lifestyle

America has changed. Why does everyone that visits here from the USA seem to be obese? I mean it. Everyone is huge. They are enormous!

I personally think there are many reasons for this. Stress, medications, and GMO saturated high fatty foods, with sugar in just about everything has certainly contributed to this.

Westerners in Thailand.
Here is a bar street in Thailand. Can you spot the Westerners? Do they look healthy to you? What is going on, and why do you suppose they appear so different?

When I lived in the States, I was always rushing to make it in time for work. Sure, I might work late nights, but come in one minute late in the morning and you could lose your job. It was always rush – rush – rush. I’d grab a couple of donuts and coffee in the morning and eat a greasy fast food burger for lunch. Dinner was better, but not by very much.

All of this affected my metabolism.

When you leave the United States your life takes on a new pace. You eat differently. You have different friendships and different problems. In general, you do eat better. While you might get the impression that everyone outside of the United States is starving, that is not the case at all. They just eat substantially better than Americans do.

People walk more. It’s nicer to walk, and there are things to do.

When I was in the states, I drove everywhere. Nothing was nearby. If I wanted to walk somewhere it took hours, and I often found that there was a noticeable lack of sidewalks and pedestrian-friendly paths. America has devolved into a very toxic and unhealthy environment. You can see it if you go outside the echo chamber and see the world from my chair.

Most American cities are made for cars. Most foreign cities are made for people. Even poor South American cities have more efficient and extensive public transportation than America, as it was quite a shock to me to ride the Caracas metro system to find trains running more frequently than in Washington DC.

Food is fresher and cheaper and doesn’t contain a billion Franken-chemicals whose long-term effects on humans are not understood (many packages of food in Europe contain a ‘No GMO’ label as a selling point).

-RooshV

[9] You will be exposed to less corporate propaganda

All my life I have been exposed to advertisements and corporate jingles. You sit down to watch a show and you suddenly have an urge for a coke and lays potato chips. Why is that? Not in China. I never have those urges. But when I sit down and watch an American television show, I immediately get the urge.

I wonder why…

When you’re in a foreign country, the propaganda ends for one simple reason: you don’t understand the ads! They’re in a different language. You stop watching television, stop listening to radio, and instead download all of your entertainment without the ads, though you’ll still be consuming it on a much lesser scale than while living in the US.

The result is you stop feeling the urge to buy things just to get a dopamine rush as if you were a caged rat hitting a lever to get a cocaine pellet. You ease into a minimalist lifestyle where accumulating things no longer positively affects your mood. In fact, you start feeling guilty when you buy things, because now you understand that objects don’t bring lasting happiness.

That is the truth. I rarely have any desire to buy anything.

via GIPHY

Instead, I have invested in lifestyle, peace of mind and comfort. Where before, I was a rat racing through my cubicle maze at work.

[10] You start to see the real world and your place in it

I know that what I have written will seem like complete bullshit to someone still plugged into the Matrix. If I were reading it from my house in the states, I would be skeptical. I probably would snort, and say “bullshit” while I clicked on something else on my browser.

Americans are the most manipulated people on the planet.

There is absolutely no friggin’ way that they are free. Dudes, having to ask permission to get YOUR money from YOUR bank is not freedom. Having to resort to (twice a decade) elections to get any kind of changes done, and then finding out, year after year that nothing changes…

Just how much control do you actually have on your life?

To continue believing we have a "representative" government of the people, by the people, & for the people is to continue believing in a grand deception. It's an illusion.

Our government has been incrementally supplanted by Progressive dissidents to form a dictatorship of arrogant, autocratic, ruling class elitists.

[11] Women and Relationships are Different

Although it's a really different culture than the states, I actually had an awesome experience in China. It definitely opens your eyes to a whole different side of the world. I met some really awesome people and it's very safe.

-What is the biggest culture shock you ever faced?

I pulled this title from RooshV. Sounds so chauvinistic, eh? Well, maybe so, maybe so. Yet it is TRUE.

Now, the reader should not misunderstand me. I do happen to like (and love) all women. In fact, my personal tastes in women’s body shapes run a pretty wide gambit. I love both small petite women, and large voluptuous women in equal measure. I really do. In fact, there are women who think that they are far too fat, that I would just die to be with. I find a kind sweet disposition is worth more than being 50 Kg overweight.

I am not at all kidding. I find that each have their various charms, and when coupled with a sweet and caring disposition, I tend to fall “heads over heels” over them.

via GIPHY

But, getting back to my point…

Over the last twenty years, something has happened in the United States. Both men and women have gotten larger. But gosh golly, the women are really enormous. Most women in the United States have tended to get on the large size. This is obese, in case you are not reading my meaning correctly.

Personally, I really don’t like being with a woman that weighs more than I do. Seriously, it just doesn’t feel right. I think that both men and women should have the correct body weight for their height. I think that it is healthy.

via GIPHY

Why women are like this in the United States, I think is due to the unhealthy and stressful lifestyle, the saturation of salt, sugars, fats and GMO’s in American food, and maybe the lack of tasteful and healthy alternatives. Then, after the Obama Administration, it seemed like everyone wanted to look like Michelle Obama. As she was considered to be the ideal beautiful woman, I am not at all kidding!

I personally do not think that Michelle Obama is that beautiful at all. At best, she is rather plain. Of course, I’m no great looker either. But, you know there are all kinds of people and we all come in all kinds of different packages.

American girls…

via GIPHY

Yikes!

Like all women, American women can be quite beautiful if they maintain their appearance, but there still exists problems with their attitude that often comes from American culture.

In general, I have found that many foreign women simply have softer and pleasanter personalities: they are sweeter, kinder, more deferential, more interesting, and most importantly, more pleasing. The urban ghetto culture that has taken over the United States does not exist offshore. You don’t see “trailer trash”, “Jerry Springer types” or “Big-assed “Wal-Mart” shoppers offshore.

They are more demure instead of outwardly crass.

This greatly increases the enjoyment you get from male-female bonding. Dating only American women gives you a distorted view of how women are really like. When you date and spend time with women from other nations you get to experience the differences. Some of which are good, and some of which are shocking and a tad mercurial.

Anyways…

Why is this important? Well, I like to think that that a man should be a little taller than his wife. I think that he should be stronger and weigh more. But many of the women that seemingly come from the USA today are so much bigger than me. They are bigger and taller. It is disturbing.

Here is an Amish family. They eat well. No one is obese. The wife is a little shorter and lighter than her husband. I don’t know… it seems right. Doesn’t it?

Amish family
A typical Amish family. I think that they seem to be good folk. No one is fat. They seem to take care of themselves, and the family all seems to be balanced. It seems good and right to me.

I really don’t know of too many women who would rather be married to a man who was shorter than them. I’m sure there are a few, but it’s really not a preference. I have always been under the impression that many women liked “tall, dark and handsome” men.

Fat, chubby men, with bald heads and beer guts were not anything that a woman would find attractive or even interesting. But, you know, if the man is a “good man”, kind, and just, his faults can be overlooked.

So, what I am saying is that this goes both ways.

The Important Takeaways

So, what are the takeaways? Once an American man lives as an expat for a few years, and then returns back to the United States, what can be learned?

  • You can learn the limits of freedom and how to leverage the freedoms that are important to you personally.
  • You can see what is important to you.
  • You can better appreciate the things that you have missed.
  • You can appreciate the United States more, and work towards bringing it back to how and why it was created in the first place.
  • You can see how easily manipulated you have been, and take steps to prevent the continuation of that in the future.
  • You can work towards bringing things BACK to a more or less, “normal” reality. One that is free from all the progressive distortions and distractions of the last few decades.

You won’t find that many fat pink-haired femminazi’s in heart-land USA. They cluster in urban enclaves. That is their echo chamber. You won’t find drug abusing mental patients shitting in the middle of the street (San Francisco style) in small-town America. They would be kicked out the old fashioned way; Clint Eastwood style.

It’s time that we start putting our feet down and taking America BACK to what it used to stand for. We can start with one person, and one voice. We can start here, and now. Then two people, and then three.

If the FBI wants to emulate the Gestapo and pay criminals enormous salaries to maintain a jack-booted reality, we can disband the agency.

The DHS is a domestic Army in defiance of the Constitution. It can be disbanded.

If the FDA wants to ban everything, to a point where Americans need to exit the nation to get things forbidden to them, then it is certainly time to disband the FDA.

We have collectively told the government that we do not want to be spied on. Still the NSA exists. We can shut it down.

Any thoughts on the IRS…?

FAQ

Q: Why is it important to travel?
A: You can learn new things and get exposed to different ways of doing things. When you are exposed, you can discover the aspects of life that you like, as well as the aspects that you do not like. You can pick and choose.

“I'm writing this from the West Coast of USA, in a very quiet, very peaceful duplex. I have returned to the US after 3+ years living in Bangkok. I'm still deciding what really happened out there. My decision to move to Thailand, back in 2010, was based on a lifelong dream of living out of the US for at least one year of my life. I had originally wanted to live in Europe, but during the time I was looking for the right place to land, European economics were in meltdown. So I started researching Asia. For work purposes I almost went to Singapore, but then decided Bangkok would be more fun.

I was right.

It wasn't just the sex. I never had trouble landing women in the States. I broke up with a very attractive Thai / Cambodian woman in the US before I left. She was fun, but a bit of a bitch at times. I know enough about women to understand that ratio changes the longer you're in a relationship. Married, she would have been a bitch that was a bit of fun at times. She wanted kids and I didn't. That was that. Before that I had two different 20-something girlfriends, great sex, lots of drama, not long-term but fun. I had learned stellar game skills and liked landing semi long-term relationships with pretty women. It was worth the pursuit, the hunt, the thrill of the conquest and of course, all the great sex. So I didn't go to Thailand for sex. I went to fulfill a lifetime goal of living out of my country for a year, and when I added up how I was supporting myself, what the costs of living were, and the fact that English teaching provided a safety net if things went wrong, Thailand just made sense.

I landed in Bangkok and fell in love with the place. I had lived most of my life in New York City, and spent time in Paris, Rome, London, LA, Berlin, Caracas and many other amazing places. But Bangkok blew my mind. The chaos, the sexiness, the otherness, and just how freaking different it was from the staid, plain US was like medicine. Even New York City – supposedly that wild town – is to me, a very processed and predictable place when compared to Bangkok. 

So I loved it. I traveled Thailand for a month and returned to Bangkok.

I set up shop pursuing my dreams. I got lucky with real hard work, landed my business contacts back West, and managed to live for more than three years in Thailand. I had a nice condo, pool on the roof, and money to play with. There were a few rough patches for sure, but also some nice straight-aways. Basically, it turned out to be what I was looking for: the adventure of a lifetime.

That adventure meant broadening my horizons. I loved learning the language. I was a Thai language class nerd. I made a few Thai friends and played badminton religiously. I put a damn good pool game together. I travelled all over, made expat friends, and had a blast. I even finally got a local job offer in my industry, which is really tough to do, and held that for a while, living the Bangkok executive life although admittedly not on the high end of that scale. Still, it was all really remarkable.

However, when a job offer came up with an old employer in the West, I took it. After more than three years, I was ready to leave. They flew me back, settled me here, and I plugged in. I actually landed on the fourth of July, if you can believe that. And I was thrilled to be back. I hadn't been back in the US for even a holiday the whole time I was in SE Asia. Any time I had to travel, I had gone all over Thailand, Laos or Cambodia. I love SE Asia, but my reasons for repatting were professional. The jobs are better in the US. I stayed with mine for five months. It was a contract. When I was offered a full time job, I turned it down in order to start another business I had been planning. And that's where I am now.

I loved being back in the States when I landed. I loved being back in familiar settings, and hearing familiar speech. I loved catching up with friends. I fully intended to plug back in here, and resume life where I had left it when I had jetted to Thailand. Thailand had been working against me in the half year before I left. I was getting fed up with the visa issues, and the outsider status. I became depressed at how hard it was to positively affect the business world there, or even the fate of the country. I like to think I can make a difference where I am. Of course, there are charities, and I did a bit of work with those. But ultimately, Thailand is for Thais. God bless them for that, is my attitude. 

In this One World homogenization that is happening, I have lots of respect for countries that retain national values and identities. Although I respect it, that doesn't mean I wasn't frustrated by it, and ultimately, living as a constant outsider was getting to me. 

I had also come to the conclusion that marrying a Thai, or even having a serious Thai girlfriend wasn't what I liked, due to the many reasons cited in other posts here. I dated “civilians” who weren't in the leisure industry, but found the culture gap too huge to leap. Plus the adjustment I had to make in terms of being 3rd on the totem pole (Family, Career, Boyfriend) never did it for me. After that decision, I partied too much. I was drinking and balling and more than a bit adrift before I left. That's why I was really happy to be back in the US. It was just time to go. My hand had been played. I felt very lucky to leave when and how I did.

But here's the problem.

After the glow of happy returns wore off, I have to be honest with the fact that I just don't like the US lifestyle. I came back to give the west a full on fair shake. I even saw it with new eyes. And there's much I really love about US that I had to be away from before I could appreciate it. It truly is a tremendous land of amazing professional opportunity, as well as a place where self development is encouraged and valued. 

Every system is crooked, but the corruption here is way toned down compared to SE Asia. The work place has some clowns, but is largely a meritocracy, where good workers are advanced, and losers get let go. People try hard. They want to make things better. The innovate. But what's really turning me off is how processed it all is.
 
How boring. 

It feels like this grey machine. A conveyor belt. Relationships feel flimsy. 

Everybody works...

Watches TV...

Works more... 

The amount of hostility towards men is repulsive, as it plays out in the workplace and in media. But the underground of MGTOW and Red Pill is filled with a tremendous amount of hostility as well.
 
I just really can't believe how unhappy and depressed most people in the west are. 

It's like there is this War on Love, destroying relationships between lovers, friends, and communities. There's not much neighborhood or local cohesion. 

I feel everybody keeps busy busy busy all the time, working buying and watching, working buying and watching, to avoid admitting how bleak and punishing the average life is here. I don't want to support it. I don't want to fit in and be part of it.

I have no regrets I left Thailand, and in terms of timing, when I was pulled back here was really a blessing. But I can't deny the fact that I feel a huge void in my life out here. 

I believe what I miss most is the excitement and adventure and just fantastic thrill – with all the tribulations that went with it – which living abroad in SE Asia provides. 

I just had more fun there. I felt more alive there. And what's also really difficult is that all of the experiences I had in Thailand aren't really welcome out here. 

Beyond the natural bias that women have of "men who go to Thailand", I'm just shocked that nobody really wants to know what life in another land is like. 

Maybe I'm a bad story teller. But maybe Americans are just living in their bubble. My countrymen have little frame of reference outside of their work and TV shows. It's heartbreaking, really. 

So much of the world, so much to see and hear about, and nobody wants to hear about it. I read a lot of columns on Stick that talk about how Thais don't really know much about the outside world. But in a way, the Americans don't either. So I'm left with this huge piece of living, and no place to process it. It's disheartening.

The place runs well. 

The trains are on time, as they say, but psychologically, I feel the West is a very hostile and weird place these days. Especially when it comes to men / women relationships. I am shocked at the deterioration in relationships that I have seen, in just the past ten years. It's just so aggressively mercenary. 

The romance has been drained from the punch. There's very little charm in the process. I found dating pretty pointless, but still fun and sweet enough in Thailand. Even it if leads nowhere beyond walking around a mall and having some sex, it was lighter and more pleasant. 

In America, dating is this grim operation to perform: shit tests, hoops, Social Market Value, and the flat-out rude bossiness that has become the modern American woman. Joyless. Probably that's what this entire post comes down to… that one word: Joyless. 

America is not a life. 

It's a job. The job is work. And work sucks.

Thais value fun. They like life light. Sanuk isn't just something in tour books. They have an art to daily living that has a pleasant ambience based on a healthy injection of “I don't give a damn”. All of us who have lived there have been on the maddening side of it. But from where I'm writing now, I see it now as a great way to resist the corporate take-over of every part of life.
 
Why the fxxk should we all have to work so hard? 

Who's getting rich off our sweat? Just this morning I read that a new crisis on American college campuses is that many American university students are killing themselves or crowding counselor's crisis centers. Shouldn't higher learning be a better experience? They are probably feeling total dread at what the American system has laid out for them: joyless toil. It's like we're all fighting as hard as we can to jam our way into jobs that shred us. 

Why? 

Life shouldn't be so damn serious. Thais know that. I miss that. I miss them. I miss their land.

With luck I'll be back and honestly, probably bitching about lots of the things I just heralded in the previous paragraph. lol. Should fate decide otherwise, and slugging it out in the US is my path, I have my memories. They will remain a precious jewel for life. Either way, I am richer, wiser, and more the man I dreamed of being for having spent my time in LOS.

Enjoy it out there, gentlemen. Play smart and it's a brilliant part of the world to live life. Play dumb and it's still one hell of an adventure. My time there was a blend of both and I wouldn't trade it for anything. “ 

- “After 3+ Years in Thailand, Reflections From Home” by Rich Archer on the Stickman Blog. Reader submission. May 2015

Q: What do you talk about the USA so much?
A: I am an American. It is what I know, and it is the point of reference that I refer to.

via GIPHY

"America is a country for doing business, not living life."

-Happierabroad

Q: Do you think American girls are bad?
A: No, not at all. I have dated many a wonderful girl (lady) in the United States. I think, for me, I prefer soft and calm tender moments together, rather than the brash clash of what seems to be popular today. This makes me feel like an old man; a fossil. I think that men and women are different. We are not equal. I think that June Cleaver on the 1960’s television show “Leave it to Beaver” was awesome. I think that Lisa Douglas on “Green Acres” was awesome! I believe that Elly Mae from “The Beverly Hillbillies” was just about the perfect girl. Like I said, I am really super old fashioned. American ladies today are different.

When you are exposed to women who are different than American girls are, you tend to be pleasantly surprised. Like I stated previously, differences are good. You can pick and choose the life that you prefer.

"She looked at her husband, he did like this: You may speak. 

And she spoke! 

And I was like, now that's pussy control for you! You know, because I'm used to American women saying: You don't own me." 

- Eddie Murhpy

Q: Is America free?
A: No, it is not. I contend that it used to be free, but today it more resembles a dictatorship. The only way that you can see this is to compare America outside, and then step back in and look around you.

The problem with saying this is that people immediately get defensive. “No it isn’t!” is the retort.

But the truth is that we are in an echo chamber. We cannot see how really bad it is until we step outside. Which is, I must remind everyone, the entire point of this exercise.

If I want to sit in a restaurant, with my dog, smoke a cigarette and drink a beer. It would NOT be against the law. The fact that it is, and the fact that I can do it almost everywhere else outside of the Untied States is a pure indicator of how REPRESSIVE the USA has become.

At least you could do that in Nazi Germany. Yes you could. Drink a beer with your dog, smoke a cigarette all inside a restaurant.

But you cannot do it in America.

When you can do something in Nazi Germany, that is forbidden in the USA, then you have a real problem. Come on, don’t you think that there is something wrong here?

Anywho, I blog about this all the time(American bashing). I hate their laws, legal system and almost everything about America. I was raise and lived my entire life in NYC but has since moved back to my place of birth in the Caribbean.

One will only know how bullshit America is when they actually visit other places on the globe. Americans segregate themselves to just America, and they’re unable to see true freedom.

Here in the Caribbean(and almost the entire globe),I can walk around with 100 cans of beers and drink them unconcealed all I want to, and I don’t have to worry about BS tickets.

Kids can go into liquor stores and buy alcohol, cigarettes, etc. Not that they use them, but let’s say I as a father cannot make it to buy some booze, I can just send my 10 year old son to do that.

The list goes on and on. America falsely prides itself on freedom, but it has no freedoms compared to almost every nation on the globe.

It’s like a guy bragging about having a huge dick, then when his pants come down, his 2 inches is exposed. That is America,hypocrisy to the 10th.degree. And one will only know that America has ZERO freedoms only when they begin to travel internationally.

-SocialKenny

Q: Is the United States bad?
A: No, not at all. The United States is AWESOME. But, it is not what it was first intended to be. It has changed and today it is a real pale shadow of what it used to be.

It is a police state ruled by elite “insiders” all with political and banking connections. The American citizens work as serfs to service the needs and desire of their overseers.

“The expat rule is, you have found paradise and you don’t want to share it with anyone, especially those you believe to be unworthy.”
-Stephen365

Q: Is it ok to retire overseas?
A: From a financial point of view it certainly seems like a good option. There are many places that are far cheaper to live than in “the land of the free”. For instance, you can go to “the land of smiles” or LOS. Which is Thailand, for instance. The problem is that the older you become the less you want to leave the things you know and love.

For instance, I fell in love and moved to China after I was retired out of MAJestic. It was a necessity for my own personal sanity. Yet, there are many tradeoffs that I now miss. For instance, it is impossible to get a “over easy” style egg. Bagels can be had, but I need to make a day long trip to get them. Talking with people who know who John Wayne was is also an impossibility, as is cruising around in a GTO with a trunk full of beer. Those things are now beyond my reach.

If you do retire overseas, you need to be careful where you go. For instance, the UK has gone full-on Orwell. And prices are going up everywhere. Some places have customs and manners that are strange to accept if you spent much of your life in the American echo-chamber. You need to research, and then visit the country that you plan to move to.

Q: Will you return to the United States?
A: Oh yes. My home might me in China, but my heart is in America.  As soon as I am able to save up enough money, then I will book a flight out there. I have been daydreaming of doing some brook trout fishing.

I’d buy one of those big donut tire motorized trikes and head down to the state game lands. I’d have a big red cooler filled with beer, probably Bud or Michelob, and just go riding and drinking all day long. It will be a good time, I’ll tell you what. Maybe go plinking with a .22 L. I just pick up some ammo at the 7-11 and get to it. Or, just eat my fill of some BBQ chicken and corn on the cob over a open fire in the backyard. It will be great. I just can’t wait to see the red embers float up into the night sky as I poke the fire.

Yeah, and another thing that I’d do is go to a restaurant and get a Monty Crisco sandwich. I’d eat it with fries and a bottomless cup of coffee, served in one of those “bang on the table” thick rimmed coffee cups. I’ll go in, and grab one of those spare newspapers that are resting on the counter and read the local news.

Maybe I’ll pull into one of the large parking lots at the mall. I’ll go inside and get an Orange Julus or a Sbarro and get a slice or two of pizza. Then go and pick up some gear at Sears or Target. Yeah. It’ll be a great time. Yessur!

Posted for Comments on Free Republic.

This article was posted on Free Republic on 17JUL18 for comments. You can read the comments HERE.

Other Articles by other people on this subject

Television Tax. If you live in Germany and you own a radio, a television or a computer, then you are obliged to pay the TV license fee (Rundfunkbeitrag) and you can't escape this!

Here are some decent articles written by others. We share the same idea that humans need to experience life and often that means stepping out of their comfort zone.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Links about China

Business KTV

Dance Craze

End of the Day Potato

Dog Shit

Dancing Grandmothers

When the SJW movement took control of China

Family Meal

Freedom & Liberty in China

Ben Ming Nian

Beware the Expat

Fake Wine

Fat China

China and America Comparisons

SJW

Playground Comparisons

The Last Straw

Diversity Initatives

Democracy

Travel outside

10 Misconceptions about China

Top Ten Misconceptions

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1

Pretty Girls 2

Pretty Girls 3

Pretty Girls 4

Pretty Girls 5

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Compiled and written 10JUN18.
  2. Completion 17JUN18.
  3. SEO review and posting 17JUN18.

When the SJW movement took control of China

Many Americans have no idea that the SJW phenomenon is cyclic. It happens in cycles in many countries. It is never a new event. It is a cyclic event with new faces, new technologies, but age old objectives. It is a time when the youth makes an attempt to wrest control of the government by the “power of the mob” and makes an attempt to erase the past and construct a “new” world upon the ashes of the past.

Today, we are in the midst of a critical time when elements of a SJW movement is trying to gain control of the American government with help from other various malevolent political energy centers. This has happened before. In the 1960’s, SJW were useful pawns of the Democrat party. While they didn’t really change the government as they had hoped, when they became older they reformed the government from the inside. It is because of the 1960’s movement that we have people like Hillary Clinton, Louis Learner, James Clapper, and Jessie Jackson in government today.

In China, a nation larger and more populated than the United States, there have been numerous SJW movements. This includes the falun gong movement, the Free Democracy Movement, and the Cultural Revolution. Most Americans are unaware of these movements. They are unaware of the impact that they have had on Chinese society, and why the Chinese strongly believe in the necessity of squelching each and every SJW effort, no matter how small or apparently harmless.

Let’s take a look at this issue, shall we…

Introduction

BEIJING, May 17 (Xinhua) -- The Communist Party of China's (CPC) official newspaper has condemned the Cultural Revolution 50 years after it began, calling it "a mistake... that can not and will not be allowed to repeat itself."

China has learned its lessons from the decade of tumult between 1966 and 1976 and is now determined to avoid any social unrest that would disrupt national progress, according to the commentary in Tuesday's edition of the People's Daily.

"The Cultural Revolution was a major detour in the development path of the Party and the nation," it said.

Since introducing the reform and opening-up policy more than 30 years ago, "the nation has been growing stronger and stronger and people's living standards have been improved markedly," according to the commentary.

"The historical lessons from the the Cultural Revolution must be firmly kept in mind" in this context, it said.

"The Chinese people have never been so close to realizing the goal of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation," it went on, urging the CPC and the public to "dispel all disturbances" to ensure the goal is achieved.

May 16 this year marked the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Cultural Revolution.

-Lessons of Cultural Revolution must be learned: People's Daily.

Ah, these are pretty strong words, especially when you know that it comes from the central government. The Chinese government “cannot and will not” permit any SJW activity in China. Not now, and not in any foreseeable future, if ever.

Man, you would think that United States would have such “big brass balls” and stand up to the SJW movement at home.

Background

There are many, many books and opinions on what caused the “Cultural Revolution”, but one thing is certain; there was a growing dissatisfaction with the Chinese government and culture especially across the youth. In order to shore up his control and the control of the government, Chairman Mao leveraged the youth movement to achieve his political objectives. The problem was that he lost control of it. It took on a life of it’s own…

SWJ in America compared to China.
SWJ is not about what they talk about. They are following the same formula. It is the overthrow of the status quo by powerful interested people who wish to remain hidden.

One of the hallmarks of any and all SJW movements is a distain for the past. They believe that the old must be destroyed and buried, so that a new order can manifest. In their youthful exuberance, they go about pillaging and purging the history and culture of society.

In China, one of the first things that they began to do was tear down monuments and statues. They viewed them as dangerous monuments to past folly and mistakes of the highest order. Even the names of the people and the heroes of the past needed to be purged and obliterated from all records.

Often, children would attend and there would always be someone singing or playing a musical instrument. All this clamor and excitement would bring hordes of on-lookers, some would clap and cheer, while most would look on helplessly. Eventually the SJW in their revolutionary zeal would start attacking the bystanders for their perceived lack of civil duty and attention to the destruction.

SWJ in China compared to those in America.
SWJ is not about what they talk about. They are following the same formula. It is the overthrow of the status quo by powerful interested people who wish to remain hidden.

The SJW would worship their leadership. In their mind, their leaders can do no wrong. They are above the common man. They deserve special considerations and special attentions.

Consider, today, with all the Obama “worship” by the SJW…

During the cultural revolution, many of the SJW would carry a little red book, a statue, or a picture of Mr. Mao. We see that same kind of behavior with other cult personalities such as Obama.

Obama as a God.
In many parts of the United States, President Obama is worshiped like a God. It is silly, but those in power and in control of the government promote this.

Statues

Posters

There is a degree of reverence that SJW offer to their idols. In China, Mr. Mao became bigger than life. he could do no wrong. The militant SJW believed that they were acting on the behest of Mr. Mao and that everything that they did in his name was sanctioned.  Thus, over time, the wilder and crazier their actions became, the more out of control the movement became.

What started as just the destruction of a few statues and a handful of book burnings, now expanded into a complete full-on conflagration. Museums and libraries were raided, looted and precious and unique art works were destroyed.

SWJ in China compared to the United States.
SWJ is not about what they talk about. They are following the same formula. It is the overthrow of the status quo by powerful interested people who wish to remain hidden.

It wasn’t just books and history that the SWJ went after. They went after individuals. They attacked successful businessmen, educators, and scientists. The sent millions to work in the poverty stricken rural fields, and set back the Chinese culture by centuries.

The would publicly shame and humiliate business owners. Often these people would have to endure torture and public scorn while wearing signs because they did not speak the “proper” politically correct phrases. At that time there were things that you could say and things that you could not.

Organizations started to set up offices to support these initiatives, and paid people to enforce the demands of the SJW armies.

SWJ in China is the same as SWJ in The United States.
SWJ is not about what they talk about. They are following the same formula. It is the overthrow of the status quo by powerful interested people who wish to remain hidden.

Today in America, many universities are implementing these exact policies that China today regrets. They have hired politically correct “police” and staff to implement “diversity” efforts. When in reality, all they are doing is enabling a disastrous monster that will eventually consume the school.

Today in the United States, SWJ are typing to enforce “diversity initiatives” through purposed speech controls by targeting “white privilege”. They are successful in controlled environments such as liberal universities and liberal strongholds. However they cannot do it outside of those areas because Americans have firearms.

If they try to implement these initiatives in public in “fly over America”, they will probably be punished pretty aggressively.

China SWJ public shaming.
Top Party officials are denounced during an afternoon-long rally in Red Guard Square: Li Fanwu, (right), provincial Party secretary and governor of Heilongjiang, is criticized as a “careerist”. Harbin, 29 August 1966
Shame and torture of anyone opposing the SJW movement.
Anyone who did not agree with the SJW was denounced publicly. They were humiliated, and tortured. The youth ran the nation into the ground.
Shame of Chinese elders.
The older generations were attacked by the youth of China. The SJW were whipped into a frenzy of emotion. They attacked anything and everything. Nothing was safe.
Chinese traditions and people were shamed and tortured.
In every city, and in every town, armies of SJW marched up and down the streets. They destroyed everything they could lay their hands on. They attacked books, history, art, families and culture.
Public shaming by SJW.
Chinese SJW would capture anyone who they disagreed with. They would shame them in public and destroy their life and their families. The poor person would suffer at their hands while emotion laden demands would be forced on the poor sap that had to endure their insults and tortures.

The damage that the SJW youth wrecked upon China was enormous. It wasn’t the history, books and art that was destroyed. But it was the entire society. Factories were shuttered closed. Educational institutions were closed. An entire generation of angry and emotional teenagers ran the nation into the ground.

For the SJW youth, it was a great time. They got to go out and sing and march and feel important and empowered. It was a time when it was “hip” to be a SJW. They were the cultural icons of their generation.

Chinese SJW demanding change and a destruction of traditions.
FILE – In this file photo taken Aug. 10, 1966, a young woman identified only as Ms. Zhou calls out to embolden her fellow Red Guards in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square at the start of the 1966-76 Cultural Revolution. On May 16, 1966, the Communist Party’s Politburo produced a document announcing the start of what was formally known as the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution to pursue class warfare and enlist the population in mass political movements. Launched by leader Mao Zedong, it set off a decade of tumult to revive communist goals and enforce a radical egalitarianism. (AP Photo, File)
The cultural revolution was a time of SJW activity.
Young Chinese women during the “cultural revolution” waving the SJW icon of the time; the little red book of Mr. Mao.

There are many writings on this interesting time in China. The reader is encouraged to explore other thoughts and opinions on this time. The only point that I want to make is that the American SJW efforts of today is identical to the SJW movement in China during the late 1960’s.

The End

Mr. Mao lost control of the “Cultural Revolution”. Things were getting increasingly untenable, and the military had to be called upon to restore order. By the time that order was restored, the damage was already done. It would take decades to reverse all the ruin and destruction that the SJW movement created.

China SJW during the cultural revolution.
Mr. Mao lost control of the youthful SJW that he tried to manipulate. They began to destroy China, and tear apart the fabric of Chinese society. The military had to be called in to restore order.

Postscript

Thirty years after the cultural revolution, another SWJ movement tried to wrestle control of China.  This movement was the “Pro-Democracy Movement”. It garnered great Western press. They held mass meetings and demonstrations in Tiananmen.  They made a miniature “statue of Liberty”, and the SJW would pose in front of the Western television networks like the BBC and CNN.

But, China knew that they could not ever allow a second “cultural revolution” to ever manifest.

They tried to reason with the SJW leadership. Yet, it was to no avail. The SWJ wanted everything and their list of demands was enormous. The government called in the military to frighten the SJW activists. But they wouldn’t budge. To them, it was some kind of a game. “Of course”, they thought, “The Chinese would NEVER use the military on their own people.”

Tank in Tiananmen.
A young SJW poses in front of a Chinese military tank while the Western Media films. The SJW realizes the importance of Western media support, but totally underestimated the actions of the Chinese government out of Beijing.

What they didn’t realize was that China was still suffering from the last SJW eruption. There was no way that another one would ever be permitted to come to fruition.

Use of Children

One of the most common techniques of government overthrow is to utilize children. It is in our inherent nature to protect our children. As such, we tend to protect them and ignore the damage that they are creating.

"Children across the country are deeply involved in an exciting game they call "Invasion". Their parents think of it as harmless fun until the invasion actually occurs."

-Wikipedia entry for "Zero Hour" from the collection of short stories known as the Illustrated Man, by Ray Bradbury.

This occurs time and time again.

Whether it is trying to overthrow the Chinese government, or enact gun control, ban alcohol or prevent a border wall from going up, children are the weapons of choice.

Consider the Ray Bradbury story “Zero Hour”. Here, an alien invasion force is unable to breach the strong military might of the United States. So, they come up with a different plan. They utilize American children to invade the United States…

Zero Hour Summary

Seven-year-old Mink Morris tells her mother that they're playing "invasion". All the children under ten join the game, while the rest of the street's residents go on with their normal lives. Mink directs activities. 

Mink tells her mother that Drill is waiting for her. Drill is one of the invaders, maybe not from Mars but from another planet. He's having trouble invading Earth, and thought of contacting children using the fourth dimension. Drill promised no more baths and that kids can stay up until 10:00 and watch two shows on Saturday. 

The older kids make fun of the game, and Mink says they'll kill those kids first. Drill promises to let the young kids rule the world. Mrs. Morris hears from a friend in Scranton, that children there are also playing invasion.

Mink says that zero hour is five o'clock. Mr. Morris...

Links

Here are some interesting links in regards to the SJW situation;

Takeaways

  • SJW are everywhere in every nation.
  • There are periodic SJW eruptions that seem to occur every three decades or so.
  • The contemporaneous American SJW is just a rehash of the 1966 Chinese SJW event.
  • SJW are often used as pawns by interested political parties.
  • The Chinese “cultural revolution” was a SJW event that went terribly wrong.
  • In China, there is absolutely no tolerance for SJW.
Triggered SJW
Triggered Social Justice Warrior somewhere in the United States. Notice how they are acting like children, while the rest of the adults just sit by in incredulity.

FAQ

Q: What was the “cultural revolution”?
A:  A group of Chinese SJW was manipulated by the government for political purposes. The government lost control of the movement. As a result the SJW movement almost destroyed China.

Q: This time the SJW is different, there are new people, and new causes that are more important. So the latest SJW movement is something completely new and different. Right?
A:Whatever you want to believe, is ok with me.

Q: How many people died during the cultural revolution?
A: Over 30 million people died. Thirty million! The disruption caused by the youth was so enormous that the entire nation suffered. To put this into perspective, New York City has four million people. The Chinese government has never forgotten this. Any new SJW effort will NEVER be permitted to reoccur.

Q: What is the “Cultural Revolution” referred to, or called in China?
A:The Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (文化大革命).

Q: What started the “Cultural Revolution”?
A: Many historians believe that the entire SJW mobilization began after the release of a document out of Beijing titled “May 16 Notification”.

Links about China

Popular Music of China
End of the Day Potato
Dog Shit
Dancing Grandmothers
Dance Craze
When the SJW movement took control of China
Family Meal
Freedom & Liberty in China
Ben Ming Nian
Beware the Expat
Fake Wine
Fat China
Business KTV
Chinese apartment houses
Chinese Culture Snapshots
Rural China
Chinese New Year

China and America Comparisons

SJW
Playground Comparisons
The Last Straw
Leaving the USA
Diversity Initatives
Democracy
Travel outside
10 Misconceptions about China
Top Ten Misconceptions

The Chinese Business KTV Experience

This is the real deal. Forget about all that nonsense that you find in the British tabloids and an occasional write up in the American liberal press. This is the reality. Read or not.

KTV1
KTV2
KTV3
KTV4
KTV5
KTV6
KTV7
KTV8
KTV9
KTV10
KTV11
KTV12
KTV13
KTV14
KTV15
KTV16
KTV17
KTV18
KTV19
KTV20

Learning About China

Pretty Girls 1
Pretty Girls 2
Pretty Girls 3
Pretty Girls 4
Pretty Girls 5

Contemporaneous Chinese Music

This is a series of posts that discuss contemporaneous popular music in China. It is a wide ranging and broad spectrum of travel, and at that, all that I am able to provide is the flimsiest of overviews. However, this series of posts should serve as a great starting place for investigation and enjoyment.

Part 1 - Popular Music of China
Part 3 -Popular music of China.
Part 3 - The contemporaneous music of China.
part 3B - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 4 - The contemporaneous popular music of China.
Part 5 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5B - The popular music of China.
Part 5C - The music of contemporary China.
Part D - The popular music of China.
Part 5E - A happy Joe.
Part 5F - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 5F - The popular music of China.
Post 6 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 7 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Post 8 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 9 - The contemporaneous music of China.
Part 10 - Music of China.
Post 11 - The contemporaneous music of China.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

The Pleasures of Fresh Baked Bread with Butter

Everyone, most especially Americans, know about bread. It is an American staple. We simply cannot picture a meal without bread. Breakfasts have toast. Lunches consist of either a sandwich or a hamburger. Dinners usually have some kind of bread, whether it is a loaf of white bread or some dinner rolls. The point is that we, as Americans, consider bread to be an important part of our day to day meals.

As such, we don’t appreciate bread.

We take it for granted. We buy loaves of pre-sliced bread off the store shelves. We eat hamburgers using preserved hamburger buns. We eat hotdogs using a package of pre-made hotdog buns. Dinners use (at best) instant frozen buns. We never really give any thought to the IMPORTANCE of having fresh, crusty bread served daily.

I would like to talk about this…

Growing Up

When I was a little boy, we (of course) ate bread. My mother would pack us a sandwich made out of white bread (usually Wonder Bread) and put it in a little lunch box that I would carry to school with me. I had a couple of lunch boxes over the years. I had a Flintstones, a Diver Dan, a Fireball XR5, and a Jetsons lunch box. I even had a Beatles lunch box, but I gave it to my sister as she really wanted it.

Each lunch box would have a small thermos inside. My mother would fill it with soup. We would have various kinds of soups. Almost all the time they were Campbell’s soups. We typically have tomato, chicken noodle, chicken rice, vegetable, and beef vegetable soups.

The sandwich would be either a baloney, ham, chicken salad, egg salad or peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It would always be cut diagonally into two halves. It would be packaged within a plastic bag and sat there with a napkin, and a piece of fruit; usually an apple. Other fruits included bananas, peaches, plums, grapes or a box of raisins.

At that time, I really didn’t know much about food. I grew up with white-bread sandwiches and didn’t give them a moment’s thought. My sister and brother, on the other hand, had very strong feelings about the bread used. It just HAD to be “Wonder Bread” brand of sliced bread. They absolutely refused to eat anything other than that particular brand of bread. Eh? Who figures?

Dinners were always served with bread. Typically it was also white bread. My mother would place the plastic wrapped loaf on the table and we would help ourselves to whatever bread we wanted. Butter was always on the table in a rectangular glass dish. For the most part, it was salted butter, but she switched to margarine because the cost of butter was getting too expensive for casual family use.

She would make homemade bread on major holidays such as Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving.  She would also buy frozen rolls from Pillsbury, and bake them in the oven.

For me, my experience with “real” fresh bread and rolls occurred when I visited my grandparents in Pittsburgh. For there, they had access to bakeries. We didn’t as we lived in the country.

Bakeries

Both of my grandparents lived in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. One was on “Polish Hill” which was a hill overlooking the “main drag” of Pittsburgh known as Liberty Avenue. The other set of grandparents lived in Lawrenceville. It was a Northern suburb that served various industries up-river.

Polish Hill at dusk.
A evening scene from Polish Hill. Polish Hill is a suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It is a community that was founded by Polish immigrants that went to Pittsburgh to find work in the Steel Mills there.

Polish Hill was great. It was settled by immigrants from Poland and it had a kind of old-world European flavor to it. I was just about related to everyone there. There were various bars, bakeries, grocery stores, and small family run establishments up and down the streets. Of course, the Catholic Church dominated the hill, and the Polish Falcons club was on a side street.

There was a bakery that was just down the street. On the weekends, my grandmother would walk down and buy two dozen hard rolls. Thus, when we would visit them, we could eat our fill of fresh hot hard rolls and salted butter. She would get a selection of rolls that would include poppy seed, sesame seed, onion, and salt rolls that we could choose from. Typically, I would eat them with good strong black coffee that I used to drink with sugar and cream.

If we were having a brunch, she would lay out some cold cuts. We would then make us a sandwich out of the hard rolls and the cold cuts. She (well, both of my grandmothers) would lay out a “spread”. This would include fresh Lettuce, onion, sliced tomatoes and a big jar of Miracle Whip or mayonnaise. We would them make us a sandwich from those fixings. It would end up something like this;

Cold cut sandwich on a Sunday in Polish Hill.
If were were going to stay for lunch, often times my grandparents would allow us to make our own sandwiches. Here, they would lay out a “spread” of cold cuts. We would then make sandwiches and drink soda while our parents and relatives would drink beer.

Lawrenceville was similar. They also had a couple of bakeries that they would frequent. However, instead of buying rolls they would buy a loaf or two of bread and have the bakery slice it for us. Typically an Italian loaf, a thick loaf of Rye bread, or a crusty black loaf were what my other grandmother would buy.

In this case, the sliced loaves would be laid out on the table and we could make sandwiches out of the slices. The layout was similar, except there would also be pickles, olives, coleslaw, homemade potato salad, sausage, mustard, and horseradish on the table. For some reason, my relatives from that side of the family really liked to make sandwiches with coleslaw on it. I have tried it a number of times and I must admit that it really was quite tasty.

A typical sandwich that I would eat as a kid in Pittsburgh.
My other relatives would allow us to make cold cut sandwiches using sliced bread. Here the bakery would slice rye or fresh “farm” bread. We would then use it to make our sandwiches out of. Typically we would eat ham, and baloney. We would also have bacon and cheese slices as well.

Both grandparents had different ways of doing things. My grandparents from Lawrenceville would lay out a spread, and the entire family would sit around playing cards, snacking, and chatting. Us kids would be running around in the back alleys and jumping from rooftop to rooftop over the narrow alleys. (My mother lost her 14-year-old sweetheart that way; he fell and died when he didn’t make it to the other roof.) We would go down into the basement and get a bottle of soda and continue playing.

My grandparents on Polish Hill would do things differently. There it was coffee, buttered rolls, newspapers, and television. We could go out and play. Typically, I would go out with my cousins and hang out at their homes, listening to 45 records on record players, and reading comic books. Like all homes (well, maybe most homes) there was always a case or two of glass bottled soda (in a wooden box) sitting on the basement stairs for us to get at will and drink.

There was something else too.  For some mysterious reason, most basements in Pittsburgh had a commode sitting in the middle of the basement floor. (Read more about it HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE.) Which was handy if you needed to go to the bathroom, but uncomfortable as it was like taking a dump in the middle of a basketball court.

“The "Pittsburgh Shitter," as I've heard it called -- and not just when readers suggest alternate names for CP -- is a treasured bit of local folklore. Basement toilets have long been celebrated as a connection to the city's industrial legacy; they've even been featured in Rick Sebak's recent documentary Underground Pittsburgh.

"The story is that you came home from work in the mill, and you used the basement to wash up before you tracked grime all over the house," says Ron Baraff. An archivist and historian at Homestead-based Rivers of Steel, it's Baraff's job to delve for local working-class history. Obviously, he finds it in a lot of basements.

Frequently, he says, "If you go into these older homes, there's often a cast-cement tub down there as well. I have heard from dozens of steelworkers and their families that this was the daily routine -- especially before the 1950s, before there were big shower rooms installed in the plants themselves."

Still, he says, while the bathrooms are rare, they are not unheard of: "I know of other towns where people have the same sort of thing. You tend to find them in a lot of working-class towns" -- including Cleveland, where a toilet in the basement arguably seems a little redundant. But "there are older towns in Oregon where they have them as well," Baraff says.

Pittsburgh's basement toilets are somewhat unusual, Baraff allows, because they very often don't feature amenities like, well, walls. "They're just right out in the open. It's the fact that they are stand-alone facilities, with no walls or anything else.”

-Chris Potter

A commode in the basement of Pittsburgh.
Many Pittsburgh homes have a commode in the basement. This seems to be native to Pittsburgh. While the story goes that the commodes were used by the workers to clean up and wash, when they came home from the steel mills, I do not buy into that. The reason is that a shower head is more important than a commode for cleaning up. The truth is that in Pittsburgh, typically the men had their own bathrooms. The women folk had their own bathrooms that they shared with the children. Thus, the basement was the domain of the men-folk. That is the real reason for the commodes in the basements of Pittsburgh.

It might not be politically correct, but up until the 1960’s and 1970’s, men (in Pittsburgh) had their own areas or domains. As did their wives and the ladies in their lives. The women had control over the “upstairs” bathrooms, the kitchen and the laundry room. The men had control of the “basement” bathroom, the work area, and the storage area. Everything else was shared.

It worked out well that way. The woman folk always had the bathrooms clean, tidy and sanitized. The menfolk would have privacy and peace in their own bathrooms.

Ah. Today is a different time, and we have forgotten the workaround that older generations used to cohabitate together. Today we think that everything was equally shared and equally maintained. Ha! No such chance. The men had their own areas, and the women had their own areas.

My Own Experiments

I have to say that as much as I enjoy eating bread, my attempts to make it have been abject failures.  I would follow the instructions. I would add the yeast properly, and pound and knead the dough just like the instructions said. I would let it rise and then put it in the oven. Yet…

Yet…

They never seemed to come out as good as the hard crusty loaves of bread that we could get at the bakery.

They were bread. That much was clear. They smelled like bread, they even tasted somewhat like bread. But they weren’t the tasty loaves that I could buy at a bakery. What was I doing wrong? I have never been able to figure it out. I followed the instructions, but each time I did it, the loaves just turned out…um, plain.

The bread never became hard and crusty. The nice big pockets of air never materialized. The taste was never, at all, like what I was expecting. Ah, this was a big disappointment. Let me tell you.

I know that it is a big disappointment when my dog just sniffs it and then turns his back and walks away from it. I know that there is something wrong when my wife refuses to be in the house with me when I am making the bread. She can’t stand to see all the mess and the big disappointment on my face when the loaves are finished. I know that it is a big disappointment when I try to give it away to my staff, and then they go around and just throw it away in the trash can.

I guess that baking bread isn’t one of my strengths. Sigh.

Hamburger & Hotdog Buns

Let’s chat a little bout hotdog buns and hamburger buns. You know one of my favorite quotes is from the movie True Stories (This is not the “Bulletproof Monk” quote. They stole it from the original movie.);

"It's like how hot dogs come in packs of 10, and buns come in packs of eight or 12 - you have to buy nine packs to make it come out even."

-Quotes from "True Stories"

I remember watching this movie for the first time. It was during my MAJestic training at China Lake. I was living in Ridgecrest, California at the time, and when I would leave the base after a day of training in the “chamber”, I would come home to beer and watch a movie rental. I believe we watched it in BetaMAX at the time.

THe movie "True Stories" is a 1980's classic.
The cult classic 1980’s oddball movie “True Stories”. Why it’s all about “specialness”. If you, the reader, have the opportunity, I would strongly suggest you watch this oddball movie. (Maybe you like the music group the B-52’s, eh?) Ah, the Huffington Puffington Post has an answer to this. If you want to read their justification, it’s up to you. For me, it’s just the way that it is. They seem to have stumbled on some sort of global conspiracy between the wealthy oligarchs, and the FDA with the innocent housewives trapped in the middle. Oh, My!

Anyways…

You know, even though I grew up with them all my life (hotdog and hamburger white bread rolls), I really don’t think that they are all that good. Certainly, the rolls can be improved somewhat. If you eat them alone it is like eating a rather bland sponge.

Don’t you think?

The simple truth is that a hamburger bun at the grocery store is the same as a hamburger bun at a cub scout gathering, a picnic, a McDonald’s restaurant, or a typical diner. They are all the same. There is nothing special about it, and no special attention is given to the selection of the bun.

It’s a shame. It’s really sad.

Portuguese Rolls

Which brings me to the joy of eating “Portuguese Rolls”.

Milford, Massachusetts.
Milford, Massachusetts is a wonderful small town. It has everything. It feels like a small town, but is very close to downtown Boston. In fact, you can drive over to the town next door and take the “T” all the way into Boston. Photo credit to Cathy Leite Photography. What a great photo, don’t you think? I think that have a certain ability, or talent. Here are some other examples of their work. Beautiful.

You know, I was first introduced to the joys of Portuguese Rolls while I was living in Milford, Massachusetts. There, in the surrounding area, was a sizable community of immigrants from Portugal.  The town of Milford was really quite nice. When I lived there, it was in the mid to late 1990’s and it still had the Mayberry RFD “feel” about it.

There were numerous bakeries there. I would get to eat fresh rolls, bagels, Italian bread, and of course, Portuguese Rolls.

I remember the event quite clearly. We were making up a crock-pot full of sweet Italian sausages with cut up onions, peppers, and tomato sauce. We added some basil, garlic and some oregano for flavor and let it cook away for around five hours or so.

Ah… the house smelled marvelous.

Italian sausage on a roll with onions and peppers.
There is something simple and delicious about sweet Italian sausages cooked in tomatoes with onions and peppers. It is absolutely wonderful if you put it on a nice hard crusty bread.

We had bought some Portuguese Rolls from the bakery, and we thought they might be good with the sausages. Boy was we in for a treat! The rolls were tough and crunchy on the outside, but warm and moist on the inside. They were not circular like a normal hard roll would be. Instead, they were more like a football shape. They were also a little small.

Fresh baked Portuguese Rolls.
Nothing beats some fresh hot Portuguese Rolls. It is most especially delicious when eaten with sweet Italian sausage and peppers.

I fell in love with them the first time that I tried them. They were so absolutely delicious. It was sort of like eating a hard roll, except that the skin was just a little bit crunchy. That, and the skin ran deeper. It was thus, a little chewier. It was amazing when you coupled it with the sweet Italian pepper sauce. Yum!

Fresh Baked Italian Bread

Tutuilia island in American Samoa.
Tutuila island has some of the most spectacular colors and views in the entire world. It is an area of fresh air and amazing people. This photo is not photoshopped!

I have always enjoyed freshly baked bread. In fact, my favorites have been both French and Italian baked loaves of bread. Of course, that is pretty difficult to come by outsides of Europe, though there are some pretty good bakeries around the world.

One of the best moments that I ever had regarding fresh loaves of bread occurred in the tiny town of Lli’ili (yeah, it’s a pretty odd name) on the island of Tutuila in American Samoa. I was there working as a Project Engineer building a medical complex near Pago Pago.  After the day’s work, we would hop into the truck and drive to the market and get some beer. We could get it at just about any small store, but we liked to go to our favorite grocery store.

We would go get our groceries from a market in Lli’ili. They had a pretty big selection of food, which was pretty hard to come by (and expensive) since we were living on a remote and distant island in the middle of the South Pacific.

Tutuila island.
Tutuila is the biggest island in the American Samoa islands. To the West of it is the other (non-American) Samoan islands, known as West Samoa.

Every day they would bake fresh Italian bread. Fresh. When you pulled in from the road and walked into the grocery store, your nostrils would fill up with that wondrous aroma.

My wife, Chinese, has never been a big fan of bread. She buys them and eats them with me. However, for her, she prefers seafood such as conchs, and snails. (After all these years, I eat them, but they are not my favorites.) Yet, when she tried this bread she fell in love with it. It was so delicious and tasty. We ate it with real salted butter. The butter would melt inside the soft white moistness of the warm interior. It was delicious and so wonderful.

We went and bought two loaves, and scarfed them both down with Ice cold Valima beer.

Valima beer.
Valima Beer is manufactured on the Western Samoa islands. It is exported to American Samoa. It is a good beer and quite tasty. It is a big size as all Samoans are big people.

Bread in China

Speaking of my wife’s preferences in food, are you aware of what constitutes bread in China? Yeah. It’s quite different than what is “real” bread back in the States, or out in Europe.

BreadTalk is a Chinese chain bakery.
BreadTalk is a chain of bakeries that operate within China. It has taken the McDonalds fast food environment and adapted it to the production of Chinese style loaves of bread and pastries.

Yes, they do have bakeries. Yes, they also carry a wide selection of loaves of bread, pastries, and confections. Bakeries are actually a pretty common thing in China. You actually can’t visit a town or city without running into one every other city block.

In general, Chinese bread is typically [1] sweet, and [2] very soft. It is like eating sponge cake. That is pretty much what it is like. Imagine sponge cake made into rolls, biscuits, cakes, cookies, and long loaves of bread.

Imagine each bread or pastry having different flavors as well. While there are the common flavors such as cherry, blueberry, lemon, banana and other well-known fruit sensations, they also have other tropical flavors to suit the Chinese palate.  They have durian, mango, papaya, guava, and star-fruit flavors as well. Of course, they also carry a wide selection of cakes.

One of the odd things about Chinese bakeries is that they tend to use this kind of strange pork dust flakes that they really like to sprinkle on everything. They especially like to sprinkle it on loaves of bread. So you can get a cherry flavored (sponge cake) bread, for instance, with pork flakes on top of it. Who’d figure?

It’s odd, I know.

Bread at a Chinese bakery.
The bread in a Chinese bakery is typically soft and sweet. It more closely resembles sponge cake than anything else. Here are some typical loaves of bread that can be found at just about any bakery in China.

No pies though. It’s difficult to get a pie in China. The closest thing to a pie is at McDonald’s fast-food franchise. There you can get a McDonald’s red bean pie, instead of (the American staple) an apple pie.

There is good news, however. Most bakeries in China do know how to make long French bread. Most will have this kind of hard bread on sale. The typical cost varies from 6 yuan (approximately $1) for a loaf all the way up to 12 yuan ($2) at the more expensive stores.

Fresh Italian Bread with Dinner

Now with this in mind, we typically buy a loaf or two at the store. We cut it up and put it in the freezer to eat with our dinner. Not every meal that we eat is a Western meal, so we typically only eat the bread with a “Western Style” meal.

Italian bread sliced.
The best loaves of bread, I think, come from fresh and hot Italian bread right out of the oven. The bread is permitted to harden somewhat. It is delicious with real salted butter.

If the meal is Western, it is served with bread. We buy a loaf or two of “French bread” from the local supermarket (D, RenRen Le, Carrefour, Taste or Park n’ Shop). There they make “real” crusty bread, not the super soft sweet bread that is so common in Chinese bakeries. Typically we purchase it beforehand when it is made fresh and then we freeze it. We take it out and heat it up in the oven or microwave as necessary.

Salted Butter. We eat bread with REAL SALTED butter. This is one of the little pleasures that I missed over the years. In the rush to make everything “healthy” in the United States, everyone switched to unsalted butter and margarine. Bullshit. You lose the taste, and you still die early. It’s all nonsense. In my house, we cut the bread, heat it up in the oven, and place it in a bowl covered under a cloth. It is served with the formal family meal.

The selection (and presentation) of butter is very important. The butter is in a large glass butter container (twice the size of the one we had as I grew up in the 1960’s) and is left out for a few hours to soften up. Butter is ALWAYS “salted” butter (which we buy on the internet), in a pinch, we will use “lightly salted”. We absolutely never use “unsalted” butter.

Fresh baked bread
Now, this is how bread should look. Crusty on the outside and nice and fluffy with voids inside. Note that the voids are in different sizes and shapes. I have always treasured this feature.

Hard Crusty Rolls on a Sunday

Back in the day, I went to Syracuse University to study Aerospace Engineering. When I was attending university, I lived off campus. I lived on the “East Side” of Syracuse in the “German Section” of South Salina street. This area was a cultural enclave of German immigrants who moved to Syracuse from Germany. At that time, I lived with a German family who rented a room out to me.

They were good folk. Heinz came to the United States with his wife Gertrude after the collapse of Nazi Germany after World War II. He was hard of hearing because of a war wound. (He was a military police officer on the Russian front.)

Ah, the stories they would tell me! They would talk about the collapse of society and the war. Gertrude would tell me about the awful, awful things the Russian soldiers would do to the German girls, and Heinz would tell me about the struggles that they had escaping from Germany during the collapse.

Heinz had built a secret room in the basement behind a fake set of shelves.  He told me that you should never expect things always to be good and great; that you should always prepare for the worst. He kept a couple of firearms in the house in hidden locations, and always made sure that the “emergency safe room” was always stocked up and safe. Now, as far as I know, he never ever needed to use that room. Good thing, I am sure.

Anyways…

Every morning I would get a fine German breakfast. It consisted of toasted bread, peanut butter, cut up lettuce, tomato, and onions. I would also get a soft boiled egg and some coffee. It was actually very delicious. Sometimes there would be some liverwurst that I could spread on top of the toast. It has become one of my fondest memories.

Now the bread was just normal store-bought bread. Sometimes, it would be a rye or a wheat bread. However, for the most part, it was a plain white “everyday” bread.

German style breakfasts can be made anywhere as long as you have the ingredients.
German breakfast spread (Image source.)

They always gave me a great breakfast. I would take my time making the toast and putting all kinds of things on the bread. It was most certainly delicious.

However, for some reason, Sundays were different. Gertrude liked to watch a religious television show at the time. I think it was called the 700 club. During the show, I think it ran all the time, but on Sundays, she was “glued” to the set in the living room. As such, she couldn’t make me my regular or “normal” breakfast meal.

Instead, she or Heinz would bring a paper bag of hard rolls from the neighborhood bakery and place them on the table. I could help myself to a few rolls, some sliced tomatoes, butter, cream cheese, and coffee. It wasn’t the same as the regular German breakfast spread, but it was just as nice.

Poppy seed hard roll.
Hard rolls from the local bakery down the street was a little enjoyment that I have come to miss. We would get a dozen warm rolls, and eat them with real salted butter. This is a wonderful thing to have with coffee.

In fact, I must confess, I have taken a real liking to hot hard rolls with real salted butter, and fresh (from the garden) tomato slices with salt and pepper. Thus, the reason for this post, don’t you know. You just cannot get these rolls here in China. It is simply not possible. As such, it is one of those little pleasures that I have come to miss terribly.

The Importance of a Local Bakery

So what is more important, having fresh hard loaves of bread or being able to go next door and get them? Well, you would think that (of course) bread is a food that you eat. So, therefore, to eat the bread is the most important thing. I disagree. I think that the most important aspect of having a good, high-quality meal, is to have a local bakery in your neighborhood nearby.

Forget about all that “modern” 1930’s gibberish about the “new, modern and progressive” life. It never materialized. Forget, also, the siren song of the convenience of the 1960’s. It materialized and ended up as a horrible out of control monster.

The lofty dreams of the idealists got us tomatoes that taste like water-filled cardboard, plastic wrapped bread that tastes like a clean mop head, and fake butter that makes your face break out in pimples. Oh, but they meant well…

The best and most important aspect of personal satisfaction is how we control our lives. That means ourselves and of our families. We need to have a stress free life. We need to have a life that is filled with happiness and contentment. We need to have a life that is filled with good things, and one that is all around us. Yes, we need to have a life where those things that matter to us surround us.

yes, we need to have a bakery nearby.

A small neighborhood bakery.
It is those small things that we take for granted. We have forgotten the importance of the small local neighborhood bakery, and how much it can enhance our lives.

Bagels

Now speaking about bakeries, let’s talk about the joys of bagels. Now that is one food that I haven’t eaten in years. Literally…years!

You just cannot find bagels in China. Not commonly, that is. There was a small expat bakery in Shekou (a suburb of Shenzhen) for a while. They made bagels. I also heard that you can get bagels in some of the more upscale regions of Shenzhen. However, real and fresh bagels have eluded me. Ah, this is such a shame.

Bagel with creme cheese.
A basic bagel with creme cheese. It is so delicious when hot right out of the oven. What I like is to slather fine salted butter, and creme cheese inside a sliced bagel. I used to eat these most delicious items at an American chain restaurant known as Panera Bread (with coffee, of course).

When I was in Boston, I couldn’t walk five feet without running into a bagel. (Well, obviously that is an exaggeration.) However, it is true that you could get them just about anywhere. They were good, hot and FRESH. There is nothing so tasty as a fresh hot bagel with creme cheese. Of course, I would drink it down with some coffee.  Ah, good times. Good times.

Peanut Butter Bagel with Peanut Butter

One of the most amazing experiences that I had (and one that I will never forget) was when I went through a drive-through at a bagel hut (sort of like a Pizza Hut, only for bagels) and ate a fresh hot peanut butter bagel with slathered peanut butter. My God! It was like I died and went to peanut butter heaven!

Who figures? Right?

After that most amazing experience, I started to go to the company cafeteria where I worked. I would order a toasted bagel with butter and creme cheese as a mid-breakfast snack. Now, of course, this was just a pale reflection of the “real thing”. The butter was actually unsalted margarine (for the employee health), the bagels were store bought in bulk and not crusty at all, and the peanut butter was generic (not Jif). It wasn’t really all that good, but you make do…

Which is the point behind all this discussion…

We tend to accept things as they are and don't fight for the Little things that really matter to us. We accept things blindly without even thinking about them. 

We don't miss the good things in life, because we have forgotten their importance to us. 

When we do actually remember their significance, we tend to substitute cheaper (and pale) alternatives blindly. We fail to realize that the substitution degrades the value of our experience.

Crumpets (English Muffins)

I always liked “English Muffins”. My mother would buy them from the grocery store. It was all that I knew. They would come packaged in a plastic wrapped rectangle. Inside the bag would be six muffins that were about the size of an open hand palm.

They toasted really nice. The butter would melt on them quite readily and they were delicious.

Later, when I would go on business trips with my father (I could go on selected trips in my early teens) we might stop at a restaurant and get an “eggs benedict” which would be a poached egg on an English muffin.

Classic eggs benedict.
Classic eggs benedict. Here there would be a poached egg placed on top of ham over a toasted English Muffin and covered with Hollandaise sauce. (Image Source.)

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that China, Hong Kong, and Macao all had Crumpets!

I actually had to do some unlearning at that stage. For me, the Lander’s brand of English muffin was the “Gold Standard”. I didn’t know that it was a mass-produced and down-sized crumpet for the American consumer. The English crumpet is actually larger, and thicker than their American cousins.

They were also fresher.

The crumpets were made locally, and thus they tended to be (at most) a few days old, as opposed to the American versions that were often weeks old. This resulted in a better taste. This also resulted in a greater appreciation for the crumpet that I did not have previously.

British crumpet.
English crumpets are a substantially different creature compared to their American cousins the “English Muffin”.

Since it is larger, it needs to be cut up into individual pieces to be eaten properly. The American version is tiny and you can eat it in the hand as a sandwich. You know, just like the famous McDonald’s breakfast sandwich is.

English Muffin Pizzas

I think everyone knows about this DIY hack. You make a mini-pizza out of an English Muffin. It’s a great little trick, and if you don’t know about it, then you are truly missing out.

English muffin pizza.
One of the little hacks that I learned during my Senior Year in High School was how to make an English muffin pizza. This is a great little DIY trick and wonderful to teach your children to do.

I was introduced to this DIY hack by a girl that I was dating in High School. I once visited her family while they were hanging out on a Friday night. (They had a house that they were building on the river. They were from Pittsburgh, and they were making the house to be a weekend home. They pretty much were living in the basement, while the father and uncles were building the upper floors.) I came over and was offered these amazing little mini-pizzas. At the time we were playing pool on their pool table. I fell in love with them the first time I took a bite.

They couldn’t get over the fact that I had never had one of these before.

However, the truth is that my family didn’t really make pizzas at home. At best we would get a frozen pizza, or a pizza kit and make up something. Pizza was a food that we would go to a restaurant for. At that time, the nearest “decent” pizza restaurant was all the way in Pittsburgh, which was a two-hour drive for us. So we only ate pizza on special occasions.

Then, when I was a Senior in High School, they opened up a Pizza Hut franchise in the nearby city of Butler, PA. Once that opened up we could get thin crust cheese and pepperoni pizza and a large pitcher of coke. I do wonder if they still offer that kind of pizza in Pizza Hut in the States today. I can tell you that, here in China, it is very hard to get a Pizza Hut thin-crust pepperoni pizza without paying extra for it. All the meals are pre-packaged “kits”. If you want something different, you will need to pay a premium for it.

Polish Bread Pizza

English Muffin Pizzas are very similar to a well-known (in my family) Polish food. Here we can talk about the Polish Open-Faced Sandwich (Zapiekanka). We eat Polish food as a way to explain our heritage to our children, and anyone else who wants to listen.  Indeed, all Polish dishes serve as an opportunity for me to explain our Polish-American heritage.

Hey, I am Polish-American. Though I don’t hide behind it and ask for handouts like my liberal and progressive friends. I do try to keep some of the heritage alive.

Casserole
We can make Zapiekanka here in China. The only ingredient missing is the authentic sauce. That is the most important part of the open-faced pizza. However, we do manage to make a reasonable alternative.

Polish open-faced sandwiches (also known as French-bread pizzas) are popular street food in the bigger cities of Poland, not to mention my old family stomping ground in Pittsburgh (Polish Hill). They’re known as zapiekanki (plural) or zapiekanka (zah-peeyeh-KAHN-kah), which is singular. Most zapiekanki sandwiches start with French bread, sautéed mushrooms, cheese, and ketchup, but there are Greek-style with olives and feta cheese, Italian style and many more.

What makes the open-faced sandwich authentic is a thick drizzle of Polish ketchup across the top, no matter what cuisine the zapiekanka is trying to emulate. That’s the secret.

Home-made Submarine Sandwiches

How can we possibly talk about good fresh crusty bread without talking about subway sandwiches? Here, for those of you who are unaware like my wife (was), it is a sandwich that is made from an entire loaf of hard crusty bread and filled with cold cuts, cheese, and vegetables. There are variations that include meatballs (one of my favorites), shrimp, tuna, and lobster. It can be heated or eaten cold.

Needless to say, subway sandwiches are awesome!

Italian Sandwich.
I personally love a good Italian subway sandwich. There is a nice mixture of cold cuts and vegetables in a loaf of fresh bread with a nice slather of mayo. Heck, I get hungry just thinking about it.

There are many kinds of subway sandwiches. There are “Hero sandwiches”, “Subway sandwiches”, “Hoagie”, “Grinder”, and “Po Boys”. It depends where you live.

Hoagie Hero Sandwich.
Here is a fine Hoagie sandwich. It goes by many names. There is “subway”, or “Hero”, or “Po Boy”. All pretty much describe the same thing. All are delicious.

Sub sandwiches. This is short for Subway sandwiches. However, not every place know this. This is a pretty common way to ask for a submarine-style sandwich. If you were to go to a restaurant in the United States and asked for a “Sub Sandwich”, the chances are that they would know what you are talking about. Yet, if you start talking about a “Subway sandwich”, some places might actually not know what you are talking about at all.

Subway sandwiches. Many people know what a subway sandwich is because of the subway sandwich food chain. It is true shame that they have downsized and cut back on their business. I have always enjoyed the food and the fresh ingredients.  I think that they are not appreciated as much as they should be.

Hero sandwiches. It’s another name for this most amazing of sandwiches. Personally, I think that it’s use is limited to certain geographic regions in the United States. In general, I would consider the term “Hero sandwich” to be a backup term for “Subway sandwich” that is in use in about 60% of the United States.

Hoagie sandwiches. The same is true for Hoagie sandwiches. It is a term that seems to be limited to certain sections of the United States. For the term “Hoagie”, it seems to be limited to the North East area. This is strange because this area also uses the terms “Grinder”, and “Torpedo” for these sandwiches.

Grinder. A “Grinder” is never called a “Grinder sandwich”. It is always a “grinder”. It is common in Massachusetts. In fact, the first time that I came across this term, I didn’t know what the heck they were talking about. You know, grinders can be egg and onion as well as the standard hoagie fare. When I ate grinders, the meat tended to be cut up in smaller pieces compared to what you would normally assume to see in a subway sandwich.

Wedge sandwich. This is a name that I am not at all familiar with.

Zeppelin sandwich. This also goes by the name of a “Zep sandwich” which is obviously a short form of ‘Zeppelin sandwich”.  Apparently, it is common in West Central Pennsylvania, though I have never heard it used that much.

Torpedo sandwich. This is a regional name variant for a subway sandwich. I only heard it used once before in Tupelo, Mississippi. It was a scorcher of a day, and I went inside this small establishment at the side of the road and ordered a subway sandwich. They said “what?”, and then I explained it to them. Their response was, “oh, you mean a torpedo sandwich”. The sandwich was pretty good. It was a crawfish torpedo sandwich.

Po Boy Sandwiches. This is common in Mississippi and Louisiana. These are just different names for subway sandwiches, except that there tend to be more regional variations. In Mississippi, for instance, there would be catfish po boy sandwiches, lobster, and shrimp sandwiches as well as the normal selections that you might find elsewhere.

The joys of Rye Bread

One of the things that I miss (being here in China) is rye bread. It’s true. You can’t get rye bread anywhere.

Which is a real shame. Oh, how many times have I eaten a breakfast in the United States and the waitress asked me what kinds of bread that I would like to have, and I would choose wheat instead of rye because it was (supposedly) “healthier”. Really?

Why miss out on such great goodness? Because some “expert” conducted a “study” that stated that wheat bread was healthier for you to eat! Really! I was such a darn fool! I fell hook, line, and sinker for that nonsense!

Toasted rye bread.
I strongly suggest the reader enjoy the toasted goodness of hot rye toast with salted butter. Life is too short to deprive yourself of such goodness.

Look, next time you have an opportunity to eat toasted rye bread do it! Let those “experts” pontificate all they want. When it comes to your little enjoyments, I say let your hair down and indulge!

Potato Bread is best for Toast

Did you know the secret about potato bread? It’s perfect for toast. It really is. It makes the best crunchy bread out of the toaster. Who would figure? Eh? You might think that it would taste like a potato or something odd like that. But, it doesn’t.

Potato Bread. This is a Russian loaf.
Potato bread is idea for toasting. Somehow the potato strengthens the bread and leads to nice and even toasting qualities. It is not what you would expect, but it is true.

The first time that I ever tried this bread was through an argument with my mother.  I must have been in my middle teen years and she was buying bread at the grocery store. I wanted some raisin bread, but I knew that she was tired of me asking every week for it (I was in a teenage phase at the time.). So I tried to be a little passive-aggressive. I told her, “Let’s try something different this time.”

So she bought a bag of potato bread.

Now, no one in the family would eat it. I didn’t and towards the end of the week, she complained that no one was eating the bread that she bought. So, out of guilt, I went and grabbed two slices and put them in the toaster. Wow! Was I surprised. The crust was so nice and even. It was even crunchier when toasted than regular white or wheat bread. Yet it was still soft and nice and warm inside.

It was amazing to me, and it quickly became one of my favorites at that time. That and pickle loaf from the deli. (BTW, it was a different time and different place, don’t you know.)

Coffee

Now, one of the things that I would like to do is enjoy a bagel (with creme cheese), or a well buttered fresh roll with a nice cup of coffee. Talking about coffee is something that I have reserved for another post. However, I would like to say a few words (just a small number, please) on the coffee cup that coffee is served in.

My words are simple, and my opinions are strong. Coffee should be served in a thick, bang on the counter-top, (off) white coffee mug. Anything less is a disservice to the drinker. I NEVER get a cup of coffee out of a paper cup (unless it is McDonalds) of course.

A good coffee mug.
Coffee should be served in a thick coffee mug. I like to call it a “bang on the table” mug as it is just about indestructible. This kind of mug used to be very common, but it has somehow gotten out of fashion. Which is quite sad. Don’t fret though, you can still pick them up in yard sales and bargain basement stores.

Bread in the ADC

For a period of time, I lived within the confines of the Arkansas Department of Corrections. This is also known as the “ADC”. We always had rough bread. The bread was made of a mixture of 50% white flour and 50% horse feed. Make no mistake here. I am not exaggerating.

While it is possible that this was done to save money, I would actually guess that it was done to create a “tough” environment inside the prison. Actually, how much money can you possibly save by buying horse feed instead of flour?

ADC Horse Feed
The ADC mixed horse feed with the flower to make a nice crunchy hard bread. I don’t think that it would really hurt or kill us, even though the bags were labeled with “not for human consumption” on it.

Therefore, I am convinced that it was done intentionally to create a very harsh environment to make prison as uncomfortable as possible. After all, when Bill Clinton (D) was Governor he set up the “Punishment” rules that that ADC now implements.

The bread was made from horse feed and whole-wheat flour. I know. I worked in the kitchen. It was written on the sacks that the feed came in. It said (in all bold letters, in Arial font) “NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION”.

The result was tough crunchy bread that belonged on Beowulf’s table. I laugh now, but the bags of food in the kitchen all were marked “not for human consumption” on them. I am sure that the prison officials would argue that this was not the case, but I can tell you that this is EXACTLY what we ate. I did work in the kitchen and I can attest to this fact.

In life, what is supposed to happen, and what actually happens are often diametrically opposed.

Just because something is not supposed to occur, does not prevent it from happening.

ADC bread
Bread in the ADC looked a little something like this. It was made from a mixture of normal flour and horse feed.

The bread was hardly tasty, and we only ate it as a last resort. It would hurt our teeth. Some inmates would take the bread and put it in their cup and fill it with milk. Then by adding something sweet like stewed tomatoes, or crushed up candy, they would be able to eat it as a kind of poor man’s dessert. We would never get fruit, ice cream, puddings or Jell-O. Those were truly luxury items for us.

The guards that worked the kitchen were generally humane and understood that they couldn’t always serve us gruel (in the ADC, they served us institutionalized gruel called “Global”.) After all, if they continued to do so, riots or worse might occur.

Life in prison was always a balance between how much punishment they could dish out before we would revolt. Thus they tended to break up the meals so that every day or so there would be biscuits made of real bread, or real meat, or decent vegetables as a side. It wasn’t always so horrible.

For instance, sometimes we got raw onions that we could mix with the beans. That was always a treat. Or at other times, we would get a hamburger and there might be a pickle or ketchup on the side so that we could make a sandwich. (Ah. Good times!)

The ADC always gave us a good great meal for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The same was true for the 4th of July. Truly, the guards were pretty decent folk. However, aside from the major holidays, some days were truly a waste of time marching down to the mess hall. We would grab the tray and just deposit it into the cleaning booth without even trying it.

Again…

You do not appreciate what you have until you lose it.

Summary

All this talk about bread… what’s the “big deal”?

You don’t appreciate things until you live without them. We take them for granted. Oh, sure you are far to busy to visit your grandparents today. maybe next month. Right? Yeah, sure, you can visit them next holiday. Not today. You have far too many things to do. After all, you are exhausted and tired, and just don’t feel up for the ride.

Oh, and a sandwich is just a sandwich. Why pay the extra two dollars at that nice family restaurant for a Montie Crisco sandwich, when you can go to McDonald’s and buy a number one meal effortlessly?

Montie Cristo sandwich.
Why do we settle for less than what we deserve? Why don’t we treat ourselves just a little bit better? Why do we “nickel and dime” ourselves in little ways without appreciating our time, our money, our friendships and our relationships with others?

Besides, everything takes time. Everything costs a little bit more money. Everything comes with a cost. You can save money, and you can save time. You just go for fast-food. You just purchase the readily available “off the shelf” loaves of bread at the supermarket. It’s not a problem.

You can save the money and save the time…

The Montie Cristo sandwich is a simple example of what we deprive ourselves of in order to “improve” our lives. We sacrifice taste for convenience. We neglect our friends and family for the time that we can give to our employers. In the end, we just hurt and deprive ourselves.

Take Aways

  • Bread is an underappreciated item.
  • We sacrifice our time and our money on trivial things instead of devoting them to quality items.
  • We do not appreciate things until we live our lives without them.
  • We think and believe that what we have now will always be there for us.
  • We need to appreciate what we have now, and relish it.
  • I like fresh bread with salted butter with coffee.
  • If there isn’t any coffee, a nice dry red wine, chardonnay or an ice cold beer would go great with fresh warm crusty bread.

FAQ

Q: What are loaves of bread like in China?
A: Typically, the Chinese manufacture commercial loaves of white bread for supermarkets just like what is done in the United States. However, there are some differences. Typically they are smaller at half the length. They also tend to be larger. Maybe 20% larger in size. They taste the same, however, which is like a bland sponge. They also make loaves of long Italian or French bread as well.

Q: What is the best kind of bread?
A: Fresh crusty bread, fresh out of the oven that is still hot. I like Italian, French and Russian loaves of bread. I think that bread is meant to be served warm and fresh. The idea that we can package week-old bread in a supermarket is an idea from the 1930’s that has really damaged the quality of meals in the United States over the last half of century or so.

Q: Why are sandwiches so popular?
A: Oh that is an easy question with an easy answer. Sandwiches are popular because they are made with bread. Fresh and toasty bread enhances everything… even vegetables.

Q: What is the best way to eat bread?
A: I personally believe that the best way to eat bread is to have it warm out of the oven (or reheated) and served with real salted butter.

RFH

I wonder if there is anyone out there who knows the secret for making hot warm crusty bread. My efforts have been complete failures. I really don’t know what I am doing wrong, but uniformly I just cannot bake bread at all. I really do not know what it is.

I guess that I am not made for making bread. I am just good for eating it.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Tomatos

Mad scientist

Gorilla Cage in the basement

Pleasures

Work in the 1960's

School in the 1970s

Cat Heaven

Corporate life

Corporate life - part 2

Build up your life

Grow and play - 1

Grow and play - 2

Asshole

Baby's got back

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older

Civil War

Travel

PT-141

Bronco Billy

r/K selection theory

How they get away with it

Line in the sand

A second passport

Paper Airplanes

Snopes

Taxiation without representation.

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. Compiled at first draft 19MAY18.
  2. SEO review 19MAY18.
  3. Edited by request 19MAY18.
  4. Release 19MAY18.
  5. Updated featured image 20JUL18.

Top Secrets and Flying Pigs

When I was growing up, I used to watch spy shows, adventure shows, and War movies. In each of which the hero would be asked to join a special organization, or obtain special “secret” clearance so that they could be briefed on their tasks and projects. When I got older and was actually offered a role in one such program, I was surprised at how different it was from the Hollywood narrative that I had so expected.

Hollywood is NOT reality.

Here, I would like to take a moment to discuss how Top Secret programs are actually implemented in the United States. Now, of course, all that I can state is all that I know, and do so relative to my very narrow understanding of it. As such the reader can do with it as they will. Most of what I relate can be found elsewhere, by I am sure, better people than myself. When I was exposed to all this, all I was told was what I needed to know to perform my role, and nothing else.

I entered the program blindly on promises, and gave up my role as a Naval Aviator in the process.

As such, I maintained this new role for over thirty years, and was then retired. I learned a lot during my stint, even though it was narrowly defined. Here is my attempt to disseminate the information that I learned, provided that I do not jeopardize any secrets in the process. It is important, I believe. For, to best understand what we humans are, where we are going, and our place in the universe, you will need to know a little about my role and the program that I was in. You will need to know a little bit about MAJestic.

Not the popular narrative, mind you, but the “real deal”.

That’s going to be a hard sell.  Because, in the United States, everything is placed in compartments or boxes. Only a very limited group of people have access to any of the boxes, and often they can only have access to but one box only. Within each box, are other levels or compartments. Your role within the organization that you are part of will determine what compartments you can access.

This system of boxes, and internal compartments, are collectively known as “Special Access Programs”, or SAP…

When Pigs Fly

The truth is that the United States government has a very sophisticated system in place regarding secrecy.  No longer are secrets simply handled by oaths, and promises.

(SAP programs are) “so sensitive that they are exempt from standard reporting requirements to the Congress”.

-A 1997 US Senate report

No longer are they classified only as “confidential” and “top secret”.  (For those are just general classification groupings.)  Instead, they are classified as “access to information” routes. People only know the absolute minimum of what they need to know, and no more.

To repeat; no one person knows everything about anything. We are all just ants working on our little tiny role in the construction of the anthill.

Pretend that there is a a top secret program that concerns the ability for pigs to fly.
For our purposes, let’s construct a fictitious secret program. Let’s call this program the “Flying Pig Program”.

For instance, imagine that you are in a top secret program. In this program, you would be part of a team designing a system so that pigs can fly. Now, you don’t know why you are doing it. At best, you might be told that it is for “National Security” concerns. Nor do you know who authorized the program. Though, you might be told that “it was authorized from within the highest levels of the government”. You would not know any of the background information’s of who, what, why or where.

Naming the Program

Instead of giving this program a name like “Operation Pig Flight”,  you would give it a much different name. You would call it project N5638U11.

Ah, good old program N5638U11. It just rolls of your tongue. Doesn’t it?

Now, since this is a very important program, and it regards issues of the upmost interest to the national security (or at least that is how it has been explained to us), members wouldn’t work together or collaborate either. People collaborate on all kinds of things as needed. But not in absolutely-secret programs. For, after all, it is a REAL secret program. (Ah… there are secrets and then there are SECRETS.)

There’s not a secret place where meetings are held. Nope. Sorry. Nor are there coffee mugs with cool logos and mission patches either. You won’t have a mission patch of a pig flying with fire out of its ass and an inscription in Latin saying something like “flying pigs to the stars”. (ad astra volantem porcos.) It just won’t happen.

Need to Know

You, as a very important member of this team, would only know just what you needed to know and no more.

Now, let us suppose that you would be involved in ignition thermodynamics. In your role, you would be in charge of the ignition system of pig farts. The idea being that once ignited, that the pig would have the necessary propellant force to fly about in the sky. As such, that is all that you would know. It is the only thing that you would know as well. You would have no idea about navigation, landing, sustained flight, or anything else. All you would know was how to ignite farts.

Your role would be carefully specified and narrowly defined.

That way, if some nefarious mad scientist wanted to capture you and extract all of the valuable pig information that you had, they would have a hard time. As such, they could only get (at most) the limited amount that you know and nothing else. That way they cannot extract your information and the information from the entire team.  They could only learn about the combustive properties of pig farts. They could only learn about your personal opinions on bacon, and maybe a tale or two about your opinions of notable pig personalities on television (like Arnold the pig, on “Green Acres” or  “Miss Piggy“).

Cells of Three People

To keep it secret and so that they don’t go after your other team members, you would only know two others. You would work independently within a “cell” of three people. Further, where possible, you would also be isolated geographically from the others, and only contact them when it was absolutely important to do so. You might be located in Paducah, Il, and your nearest cell member might be in Kalaupapa, HI. So there wouldn’t be a company with a sign out front that says “Flying Pig Industries, Inc.”, nor would there be a webpage, a twitter account, a toll free number, or a LinkedIn profile. Real secret programs operate in parallel with other processes.

A Secret Life

You would be working in your “secret” role while you were working at “ACME Widgets”.

In that case you might be a line supervisor officially, and a “pig fart expert” secretly. Which brings up one of the most important points in this dialog, real secret agents work two roles simultaneously. They must juggle two roles at all times.

The secret role is known to no one. Not even the wife of the pig scientist. The boss at ACME Widgets wouldn’t have any idea that his star employee is also designing flying pigs. Your friends wouldn’t have a clue, and when ever you went out with them for a beer, you wouldn’t even bother to mention it.

Let me repeat this very important point.  Real secret agents maintain two roles. One is their “white”, and obvious role. It is the role and work that everyone knows that they do. The other is their “black’ and secret role. No one knows this role except the two other members in their cell. No one else. Not even their family.

They live like Batman. Or, like Superman. They have a obvious life, and a secret life.

Surreptitious Communication

Because of this, and the nature of the work, communication would be surreptitious. In fact, you would use a form of secure communication. It would be encrypted, and possibly only able to broadcast and not receive. It would involve something way different from normal radio, internet or conventional communication techniques. Let other people try to hack into the internet. Let others try to peer into radio waves. You communicate using a totally different method altogether. Maybe you use smells, fruit or temperature gradients.

Your method of communications would not look anything like communication. It would be unhackable. Because no one would be aware that anyone could even be able to communicate using these other methods.

Again, boys and girls, real secrets are SECRET.

The Aggregator

There would be one person in the project that would know everything about it. This person would be the aggregator. He would compile the information, distill it into a viable program. He would direct tasks, set up milestones and organize the entire operation. Ultimately, he would create an executive summary (summarizes and makes recommendations) to HIS supervisor. The supervisor would monitor all such programs, but would not know any of the details. Only the aggregator would know all of the details of the project. Because the aggregator would be in possession of such important information, they would be kept isolated and apart from everyone else. Their role would be the most important, and because of it, they would be the most isolated.

The supervisor would at best only know the rough outline of any of the programs under his purview.

None of the agents would ever know who the supervisor was, or who the aggregator was. They would only know the three people within their team cell. They would not know the roles of the people either. They would only know that they worked on pig farts at the same time that they clock into work at “ACME Widgets”. They would report their findings through the secure communication method and work independently.

They would work in secret and live their life. They would have a black and a white life. The program would exist for a set defined period of time. It would have goals, objectives, and a sunset. Once the program is over, it would close down. But, now you have a problem. What is going to stop the agent from going about and talking about the program?

Program Shut Down

It’s easy enough to do while the agent is still working the project. He is still connected to the organization. He is constantly monitored and observed. Of course the agent will keep quiet.

How do you keep the agent quiet, once the program is shut down?

What you do is put him in a monitoring program.

That is right. You would [1] monitor him, and all his communication, where he lives and who he associates with. You would also [2] do something that would make him shunned. You don’t want him to have close friends either.

You want to keep him isolated and monitored, for after all you don’t want an evil organization to get their hands on thirty-years of information on pig farts.

Well, the monitoring of Americans is pretty much illegal. (I know, I know, with Facebook, DHS, the FCC, and the NSA. But these systems did become capable until after 2000.)

There’s only two ways to monitor the agent. You either [1] slam him in jail, and keep him there for a nice long time, or [2] you put him in a strong monitoring registry. Now, it’s going to be pretty difficult to put a person in prison unless you have a dead body lying around. You need some kind of mechanism that will make it easy to accuse an agent, arrest them, and put them in prison. Then, you will need to keep them shunned from society, and then monitor them for a long time after release.

This is not the television show “The Prisoner” where the retired agent is sent to an isolated island. You cannot do that. That is far too visible a solution, and while the retired agent is quite isolated from the general society, he is part of a community of other retired agents.

No. What you need is a system that makes the agent completely shunned by everyone. You want to make it so that every time the agent opens his mouth, he is shut down and silenced. When he says something… immediately no one even hears what he says. You must make a cartoon out of him. You must paint him as a pariah.

There is only one monitoring registry in the United States; it is the sex offender registry. So what you would do, when it is time to retire your agent after thirty years of service, you would arrest him for sex crimes and place him in a lifetime monitoring program.

The moment the retired agent opens his mouth, you just scream “SEX OFFENDER” at the top of your lungs and point at him. No one will ever pay any attention to what he has to say.

And that dear boys and girls is how a REAL SECRET program operates.

Top Secrets and REAL Secrets

Now, the reader probably doesn’t have a clue as to what I am talking about. Because we know that there are secrets that are being released in the United States daily.

Look at all the leaks in the White House. Look at WikiLeaks. Heck, we know that Hillary Clinton even made her own computer server-farm and vacuumed up every secret she could get her hands on, and successfully sold them to foreign agents for huge wads of money. The money then accumulated into a huge “slush fund” that her family drew upon to live a kingly life. Ah, she was investigated, and the investigator Comey couldn’t find a motive which made her innocent. Duh! As if pure raw greed isn’t a motive! And, the need for a motive was more important than the crime itself! My Gawd!

But I digress.

Now, let’s not get confused. This particular article isn’t about how secrets are kept in the United States. It is about how REAL secrets are kept within MAJestic. As such, you all had best pay attention as this is not how everyone thinks things work. Those “leaks” out the White House are no more than (unofficial) releases of confidential information. Those documents found by Wikileaks are “secret”, and many might even be part of a SAP. However, they are not SECRET. Real secrets are something else altogether.

When there are REAL secrets that must be kept secret, you don’t mess around. You put real strong systems in place.

Which is quite different from what everything thinks. In fact, I am quite surprised about it. Even though many people are aware of Special Access Programs, and they know that a big nation like the United States has secrets, everyone still treats things as if all you need is to take an oath and put your hand on the Bible.  Well, maybe for the State Department it is that way. Maybe for certain military operations it is that way. But not for REAL secret programs, and most certainly not for MAJestic operations.

There are Secrets and there are SECRETS

There are many levels and types of access programs, and this particular post deals with the subject in some level of detail.  Thus to understand my story, one must understand the system.

The reader, like all typical Americans, knows about “secret government programs”.  Indeed, the three-tier standard government security clearance levels are well known: confidential, secret and top secret. There are of course, other systems, as well. While at NAS China Lake we used that basic system, as does all contractors, by a color coded system. You can tell by the color of the badges. For instance, confidential access is shown as a green badge color.

However just having a clearance at anyone of these levels does not automatically give access to any information at that level. You can have a “Top Secret” badge and still not have access anywhere.  There must  be a demonstrable “need to know” in order to be briefed or read in on a given project, program, facility or intelligence product.   There are thousands of “Top Secret” programs.  Does a person in one “top secret” program have access to another “Top Secret” program?  No, of course not.  Each program is identified by a specific identifier and only those assigned to that identifier can access it.

This system seems to work pretty well.

Outsiders are Always Compromised

The problem with this system is that there are people and organizations outside the program that might know of the existence of the program.  (Therefore, how can they be actually and ultimately “secret”?) For instance, the person who makes the badges and puts them together, knows that a particular person has “Top Secret” clearance. This includes the clerks in Washington, D.C. who process the various piles of paperwork that the particular person signs. So, yeah. It can get difficult to keep secrets. Everyone can, in one way or the other, touch on the works of a “secret” operation.

These people generally also include the elected Congress and Senators who rotate in and out of government circles and are highly subject to compromise in various forms.  In fact, I urge the reader NEVER to trust an elected official.  They have already been compromised.

Which is why the MAJestic organization DOES NOT includes elected officials in the organization.  (There are always rare…rare exceptions, of course.) That knowledge by those people is dangerous in that it comprises the program at its most fundamental level.  Therefore this system is merely the visible side of the security system.

Example

Here is an example of a Federal Judge…

First some background. In a period of time ranging somewhere between 1975 and 1979, Peter Gersten, a lawyer representing CAUS (the Citizens Against UFO Secrecy) sued the NSA after its refusal to release requested files via FOIA (the Freedom Of Information Act).  In 1980, the chief of the Policy Office for the agency, Eugene Yeates, sent a document larger than 20 pages to Gerhart Gessell, the Federal Judge who was overseeing this particular case, explaining why the files in question must remain classified. This is known as the Yeates Affidavit. But, this document was classified as well.  The judge was not authorized to read the actual content of the files, but the letter itself convinced him alone.

Here is what he said.

“The public interest in disclosure is far outweighed by the sensitive nature of the materials and the obvious effect on national security their release may well entail.”

-Gerhart Gessell , Federal Judge, when explaining why the government would not release any information regarding UFO’s. 

Systems that Control Systems

There has to be a system that controls “outside” knowledge of the secret programs from everyone whom might discover the presence of such programs.  Therefore, there is a massive secret “black” (non-visible) system as well.   The existence of which is known while the details (naturally) is deeply hidden. This structure has been described (by some) as a “shadow military” existing in parallel with open or overtly classified programs. It is designed for programs considered to be too sensitive for normal classification measures.

These “black” programs are called Special Access Programs (SAPs).

SAP – Special Access Programs

These programs are protected by a security system of great complexity.

In fact, many of the SAPs are located outside of the United States government. Instead, they are located within technical industries directed and funded through special contracts. In the United States, this occurs under arrangements known as “carve-outs”. Here, such programs and funds become removed from the usual security and contract-oversight organizations.   After all, how can you compromise a given secret program, if you don’t even know where the heck it is?

The way to keep them secret is to move them outside government control and reporting structures. You “carve them out” of the huge government organization.

We know, for example, that in 1997 there were at least 150 SAPs. Thus, there were at least 150 programs that NO ONE in the government knew the details of. All they knew was their alphanumerical designation and the necessity of funding them.

Levels of SAP

“The way things are supposed to work is that we’re supposed to know virtually everything about what [government officials] do: that’s why they’re called public servants.

They’re supposed to know virtually nothing about what we do: that’s why we’re called private individuals. This dynamic - the hallmark of a healthy and free society - has been radically reversed. Now, they know everything about what we do, and are constantly building systems to know more. Meanwhile, we know less and less about what they do, as they build walls of secrecy behind which they function. That’s the imbalance that needs to come to an end. 

No democracy can be healthy and functional if the most consequential acts of those who wield political power are completely unknown to those to whom they are supposed to be accountable.”  

-Glenn Greenwald

Just being in a special access program is not enough. There are also levels of SAP, the first being a division into acknowledged and unacknowledged SAPs.  All SAP’s can be classified into belonging into one type or the other.  These types are “acknowledged” and “unacknowledged”.

Secrets are protected by a system of special access programs.
Special Access Programs can be divided into acknowledged and unacknowledged.

What the point here is whether it will EVER be admitted that this program exists.  An “acknowledged” program, can and might eventually be recognized as a program of importance to various people.  However, an “unacknowledged” program never will be recognized as existing at all.  It never; ever will be.  It will forever be kept secret and the members will keep the knowledge of its existence to their graves.

As the reader can tell, there are all kinds of designations for the government to collect information. But that is not really what I am referring to.  Instead, this is what I specifically refer to dig down deeper and involves much more serious issues.

  • A “Black Program” is slang for a SAP. (SAP).
  • A “Deep Black Program” is slang for an unacknowledged SAP. (U-SAP).
  • Any program that is more secret than a U-SAP is waived from all reporting and has no slang designation. (W(U)-SAP). It is a waived unacknowledged special access program.

An unacknowledged SAP is so sensitive that its very existence is a “core secret.” Indeed, some unacknowledged SAPs are so sensitive to the extent that they are “waived” (a technical term) from the normal management and oversight protocols.  My program; the one that I was in was a “waived” unacknowledged Special Access Program. I tend to refer to this as a W(U)-SAP, but this is my own nomenclature.

It’s pretty serious stuff.

Appropriations Committees

Indeed, even members of Congress on appropriations committees (the Senate and House committees that allocate budgets) and intelligence committees are not allowed to know anything about these programs. In the case of a waived SAP, only eight (8) members of Congress (the chairs and ranking minority members of the four defense committees) are even notified that a given program has been waived (without being told anything about the nature of the program). Such a program is certainly a deep black program.

Top secret programs are funded by congress. Congress sets up and allocates funds. They have no knowledge o many of the things that they actually fund.
American appropriations committee going over the funding for Special Access Programs. Appropriations Committee.(Image Source.)

The number of people with access to multiple SAPs is deliberately very limited.  Most members of a SAP are involved in ONE and ONLY ONE Special Access Program (SAP). Such as myself, I was only involved in one W(U)-SAP.

This assures that no one knows what is going on in another program.

Black programs are often covered by white (normal classification system) or unclassified programs.  For instance, the U2 spy-plane was covered by a weather-research aircraft program.  The Roswell crash was also covered by a Weather balloon.  (Such was the mindset in the 1960’s.) Such covering allows technology to be relatively openly developed until such time as it is ready for application to a black program. The overt cover program is then usually cancelled, having accomplished its purpose.

The X-30 NASP

Indeed, this happened to the X-30 National Aerospace-plane project (NASP) in 1994.   To the media and the public, it appeared to be an unrealistically ambitious program that was eventually cancelled, but was in reality a cover project. The media had a “field day” making fun of Ronald Reagan’s (R) “Orient Express” as he politically named the program. They praised Bill Clinton (D) for killing the program. When the real truth was hidden from the American people; the program was a stellar success.

That narrative and dialog was promoted by the military DARPA and their spokesmen, with the objective being to have the United States media parrot what they wanted everyone to think.  The truth was that the program was a success, and showed far more promise than they expected.  What we know now, decades later, is that this project went “deep black”.  Indeed, this is a project for what is almost certainly a black-world hypersonic aircraft.

Many programs go from white to black when they become successful and show promise.
The X-30 NASP National Aerospace Plane was a successful program that existed the “white” world and went “black” for geopolitical advantage. X-30 NASP. (Image Source.)

Very Secret SAP – Unacknowledged

So far, we have discussed some black programs. These are normal, “everyday”, and typical SAP’s; diplomatic relationships, secret funding methods, gun running, and other “everyday” enterprises of the State Department. In addition there are the more secretive aspects of technology; a cutting edge spy plane, the recovery of an extraterrestrial spaceship, and a LEO ferry vehicle. These are things we can understand. While there are hoards of deniers, and skeptics, these things are all understandable. They are vehicles, machines, and technologies that are plausible. Even if you refuse to accept the idea of them.

Now, let’s put that all aside for a minute. Let’s get to REAL secrets.

Here is a world that is very far beyond what “normal” people consider reality. It is a world where there are extraterrestrials, science, technology, and abilities far in advance of what is considered to be normal. Oh, there a science fiction movies about this kind of reality. Time travel, dimensional doors, and mind control are all popular themes. But they could never actually exist… right?

It’s all just science fiction. Right?

Right?

Passive Measures

It is important that secrets be kept secret.

Someone read in on an unacknowledged SAP would be required to deny even its existence, i.e. even a “no comment” would be a serious breach of security. It can also happen that someone, such as a general or admiral (ostensibly responsible for certain types of programs or areas of technology) would be kept ignorant of the program. Indeed, they would not even be briefed on the existence of a program. Even if it was within his jurisdiction.

The towering wall of denial in the deep black world can thus be maintained.  It can be accomplished by both deception and a deliberately crafted lack of cognizance. That way, the head officials can truthfully deny the existence of any deep black project.

Active Measures

In addition to passive security, active measures can also be deemed necessary.  You know, keeping all the key people ignorant only goes so far. What happens when a farmer stubs his toe on a buried extraterrestrial fuselage? What happens when an agent has a hernia operation and starts reciting code to the startled nursing staff? What happens when an agent starts to phase in and out of reality while being interviewed on television? Yikes!

These include [1] disinformation, and of course [2] probe implantation.

Discrediting Binder

One disinformation ploy is to divulge both real and fabricated information of equal apparent credibility mixed together to someone or some group. The fabricated information can then be used to discredit claims, individuals or organizations.

A discrediting binder is attached with all MAJestic members to enable and instigate a formalized, exacting plan to complete discredit anything that they say or do.  Part of this discrediting protocol is retirement of W(U)-SAP agents though the Sex Offender registry. (No one ever believes a sex offender.  They are shunned, and automatically discredited even before they even open their mouth to speak.)

This is a highly effective way to keep a major secret. Make it so that no one ever listens to an ex-agent. Make it so that they are shunned, isolated, and ridiculed.

Probe Implantation

When you join a deep-black program you are implanted. Everyone is implanted. There are no exceptions.

The implants control memory access among other things. These probes are put within your skull. They come in different “packages” or “kits”. The most basic is a simple system that controls your ability to recall certain memories.

Everyone who is part of MAJestic is implanted.  EVERYONE.

E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E.

Of course there are other kits with other purposes and abilities. These other kits provide “keys” that enable the implanted person to access certain “dimensional doors”. There are also kits that enable a given agent to be entangled with other devices, artifices, and creatures for various purposes. There are also kits that provide one with the ability to switch world-lines.

Like I stated previously, deep back SAPs are the stuff of science fiction.

Now, boys and girls, this is also the litmus test for membership in MAJestic. If you are going to disclose anything of importance regarding actual extraterrestrials, then you will have these memory probes. They can be viewed on an MRI, and with an X-ray. If you don’t have them, you were never in the organization. It’s very cut and dry and very clear. I have them. In fact, I have three complete sets, all with very specialized purposes.

So when someone makes claims of “space marines”, and top secret MAJestic projects, test them at a hospital. Otherwise forgetaboutit.

Carve Outs

You never keep real secrets within the government. All governments are compromised. So you put them elsewhere. You keep them out of the government, and put them within private companies.

“Careful consideration of the record as it is available to us leads us to conclude that further extensive study of UFOs probably cannot be justified in the expectation that science will be advanced thereby.”

-1968 University of Colorado report to the Air Force.

Deeply buried programs in contractor facilities are called “carve outs”.

As such, and in the case for most of MAJestic operations, you will need to have a technical background to even be able to walk into the door there. For what it is worth, you would need a university degree and membership in some military organization before you would even be considered to go near any MAJestic program. So when I see these non-technical people spouting off nonsense about MAJestic on the internet, I just end up shaking my head. The two fundamental requirements to work in MAJestic are that you must be part of the military (at some point in time) and have a technical degree.

What is truly ironic is that the Hollywood actors that pretend to be members of a W(U)-SAP are paid millions of dollars, when the actual and real members are generally not paid at all.  Or if they are, the agents are paid in small amounts. Matt Damon played the role of a person in a Hollywood version of a U-SAP and made millions of dollars in doing so.  However, I was the “real deal” and the most I made while in training was $9/hour. WTF?

Ah, just keeping it real you know.

The reader should realize that the MAJestic umbrella consists of W(U)-SAP “carve outs” that operate as IRAD entities.  These entities are outside the government, but operate under their protection elements. They operate in the Military-Industrial theater, and are managed by former military with technical backgrounds.

Selection for inclusion in MAJestic is under the purview of a non-human species. MAJ membership must first obtain permission prior to implantation.

“I find it hard to imagine something as explosive as recovered alien technology remaining under wraps for decades. So while I have no reason to believe there is any recovered alien technology, I will say this: 

If it were me, and I were trying to bury it deep, I’d take it outside government oversight entirely and place it in a compartment as a new entity within an existing defense company and manage it as what we call an “IRAD” or “Independent Research and Development Activity.”

-Christopher Mellon

Duration

Political leaders come and go, pandering to the masses for votes. As such, all of us have varying degrees of respect and trust for them. Deep black programs are quite independent of any given administration. What this means is it would certainly be unrealistic to assume that a given president has been briefed on every SAP.

A president does not automatically have a need to know.

“Read the books, read the lore, start to understand what has really been going on, because there is no doubt that we are being visited. . . . 

The universe that we live in is much more wondrous, exciting, complex and far reaching than we were ever able to know up to this point in time. . . . [Mankind has long wondered if we’re] alone in the universe. [But] only in our period do we really have evidence. No, we’re not alone.” 

 – Dr. Edgar Mitchell, ScD., NASA astronaut (6th man to walk on the moon)

I do not know of any fundamentally limiting factors in the potential longevity of a program. The extreme compartmentalization and limited oversight would tend to keep a program in existence, perhaps indefinitely.  Most programs that I know of seem to indicate a total lack of [1] program management audits, [2] performance measurables tied to longevity, and [3] sunset procedures.

Most importantly, Freedom of Information Act requests cannot penetrate unacknowledged special access programs. So, to the reader, all I can say is “good luck” in trying to get an FOA to penetrate MAJestic secrecy.

Would the President be Briefed on a W(U)-SAP?

If the reader expects that “someday” a United States President will tell the truth of MAJestic and the knowledge of extraterrestrial life, they are seriously in error.  It will never happen.  The presence of the organization, it’s missions, it’s purpose and it’s activities will NEVER be disclosed. EVER.

NEVER. N-E-V-E-R.

Elected officials, with some notable exceptions, are never privy to this information.  They are, and properly so, considered to be compromised.  The best bet or likelihood of a disclosure would be from a Presidential candidate who has strong military and aerospace connections.  Typically, that would imply a Republican elected official.  That is the truth and the facts, no matter how disgusting the concept might be to the reader.

Hillary Clinton (D)

On January 6, 2016, Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton (D) announced she would “get to the bottom” of the mystery behind UFO’s.  CNN reported this as a humorous joke, but others took it seriously.

Well, I personally wish her the best, but the truth is that she is exactly the kind of person who is banned from knowing anything about MAJestic.  The reason is quite simple, her political philosophy is in direct opposition to the interests of the industrial leadership that is part of MAJestic.  Further, she is not secure.  She has a wide ranging web of political and financial ties in which she is indebted to.  She is thus easily compromised.  Finally, and perhaps most importantly, her sentience does not fit the sentience requirements for MAJestic. I say this knowing just how apparently well-connected she is. She does not have, nor will ever have, the qualifications to be privy to many of the secrets of MAJestic.

Those in MAJestic consider her (as well as most Republican political players as well) as a serious threat to the security of the organization.

In MAJestic we all view our tasks at a level far above that of the petty squabbles between nations.  Sure, we are often personally affected by the decisions and laws of the nations, but our role and purpose is of a much higher order.  A Presidential candidate such as Hillary Clinton would turn the great and grand effort into something far less; a temporary media circus, and eventually disassembly into components that could be sold off to the highest bidder for short-term political gain.  No.  People and individuals such as herself are forever banned from the fountain of knowledge that is MAJestic.

She can promise the world to her loyal followers, but her ability to deliver substantive results is minuscule.

“This thing has gotten so highly-classified…it is just impossible to get anything on it. 

I have no idea who controls the flow of need-to-know because, frankly, I was told in such an emphatic way that it was none of my business that I’ve never tried to make it to be my business since. I have been interested in this subject for a long time and I do know that whatever the Air Force has on the subject is going to remain highly classified.” 

Senator Barry Goldwater , Chairman of the Senate intelligence committee, discussing his attempts to find out exactly what the US government knows about UFO’s.

Jimmy Carter (D)

In 1976 presidential candidate Jimmie Carter promised the American people that he would open any government UFO files that might exist.  The reader might also recall that while governor of Georgia, Carter had a UFO sighting and actually filed a report.   Then, after winning election to President, Carter met with CIA Director George H. W. Bush seeking a briefing on the topic.  There was no question that the new President wanted answers and the full extent of the United States involvement with extraterrestrials and/or “UFO’s.

Could you blame him?

I am sure that the wanted to find out what those things were that were flying about. Perhaps he might even has suspected that there might have been a recovery of one or two craft. Of course, that is so laughable. MAJestic has been working with the caretakers of this planet for many decades.

However, as the reader has probably guessed, Mr. Bush turned him down, claiming that neither [1] as President nor as [2] Commander-in-Chief did he have a “need to know.” Obviously this was a severe “let down” for the new President.

This seems rather harsh and blunt, because the common misconception is that the United States President is the highest authority in the land.  However, that misconception is flawed and very, very wrong.

The President is the highest authority of only one of the three branches of government (the executive branch), and the highest authority of the military.  Unless the program is tied to the executive branch, or the military, the President has no authority over it.

In extraterrestrial matters, our extraterrestrial partners select who has access to their programs.  Not us.  They specifically exclude certain individuals for specific reasons.

Elected officials who have not met the sentience requirements are routinely disbarred from participation in the programs.

Anyways, back to Jimmy Carter…

A few months passed.

Once, firmly in office, Carter turned to NASA for information. It was his hope that the Space Agency would be able to help him in ways that the others were unable or unwilling to.  To this end he directed presidential science advisor Frank Press to ask NASA administrator Robert Frosch to “form a small panel of inquiry” to investigate the UFO situation.  (Ugh!  Yup, another one of those “Blue Ribbon Panels” to unearth secrets and investigate with solutions. Yeah, I have a personal distain for these political panels full of borderline losers who managed to climb to undeserved positions of power and authority.)

However, to the surprise of many in the UFO field, nothing at all came of this.

The story of “the great thud” was recounted by Richard C. Henry — then a young astrophysicist (now a prominent Johns Hopkins professor) working as a deputy to the director of what was the Astrophysics Division at NASA headquarters .  It was on his desk this “hot potato” request landed.

When asked about this request, and what actions the “Blue Ribbon Panel” took to resolve the questions asked by the President, Richard C. Henry couldn’t say. For five months, NASA went through some amusing twists and turns, recounted by Henry, before politely declining.

The exploratory panel found out nothing.  They investigated nothing.  They wrote no summary’s, and provided no answers to the President at that time.

The information regarding UFO’s, extraterrestrial species, treaties with them, their technology, and the social implications of communication with them are not, and never was, part of the administrative functions of the President of the United States.

They would only become an issue with the President when it became a matter of National Security involving military personnel.

This was the case during the formation of MAJestic with Truman, and when Ronald Reagan became involved in the program. In both cases there was a concern about military intervention using military forces. Other than that, relations with the core extraterrestrial species have been cordial and did not require presidential participation.

 “I recall instances when White House officials sought briefings on highly compartmented DOD programs and were flatly refused.  

Access to such programs is on a need to know basis. In general, nobody outside DOD, including the Secretary of State, is deemed to have a need to know. Officials like John Podesta and Secretary Clinton can easily serve for years in senior positions and be avid consumers of classified intelligence analysis but never obtain access to DOD’s compartmented programs, which mostly relate to new weapons systems. 

Information about such programs rarely leaks because it doesn’t circulate, unlike the constant stream of leaked information regarding classified intelligence activities.”

-Christopher Mellon

The Extraterrestrial issues

Our relationship with known extraterrestrials is via their conveyance.  They control the technology egress.  They control our lives, and they control us.  They have reasons and purposes for operating here on the earth.  Their sole concern is to help the human sentience establish itself into a quantum configuration that is galactically approved.

Special access Programs are carefully vetted and monitored. Not everyone can enter the program.
When you lie on your resume and still get the job. In general, American elected officials do not quality for MAJestic membership. Most American Presidents are not qualified to join MAJestic. (Image Source.)

With that being stated, they control [1] how we interact with them and [2] what information is dished out to the human population in general.  [3] They control MAJestic, and they control [4] the membership of MAJestic.  It is important for them and the success of the program to do so.

Thus, from their point of view, it makes no difference what the person’s role or position is in the earth human society.  They do not care.  It does not matter if they are attractive, famous, rich, intelligent, powerful, or popularly elected.  They have a completely different set of criteria by which to make a determination of who will be involve in MAJestic and what their role would be.

Here is the truth.

If a newly elected President wants to know all about extraterrestrials and their role in the world of UFO’s and society, they will first have to meet the requirements of acceptability by the governing extraterrestrial species.  Their requirements are specific and unwavering.  No exceptions are permitted at all.  These participation requirements are;

  1. Must have a “Service to Others” sentience. Every single person in the MAJestic organization is of the same sentience. There is no blending of sentience’s for diversification purposes. Humans in general are confilicted with three types of sentiences. The organization requires homogeneous sentience’s. This is an extraterrestrial requirement.
  2. Must have a fairly “clean” or “pure” quantum cloud envelope. This is also an extraterrestrial requirement. More about this later on.
  3. Must be willing to give up a part of their soul towards the good of the human species. To join you must give up a part of what you are and who you are. It is a sacrifice, but I like to think of it more like a “down payment”. This is a fundamental extraterrestrial requirement.
  4. Must place the well being of the human race before any government or nation. Of course, this is an extraterrestrial requirement.
  5. Must not be part of any entrenched political machine. This is because they might “owe” some favors that might compromise the good of the program. It is an extraterrestrial requirement.
  6. Must not be famous or well-known. (Group thoughts are terribly polluting to the quantum cloud.) It is a requirement, though I am not sure if it is wholly an extraterrestrial requirement.

Examples

The reader might doubt the policies of MAJestic.  They might question the reasoning behind why a given political personage would be forever barred from joining the organization.  They might argue that the President absolutely must be the most secure person to hold a secret.  This would simply be because of his position.

However, the arguments are completely and wholly inaccurate.

Hillary Clinton and Membership in MAJestic

Consider the 2016 Presidential Candidate; Hillary Clinton.  Here is a famous “Service to self” candidate.  Well known, and much beloved by her followers.  Her political strengths are legendary.  Her connections and experience are outstanding.  Yet she would be denied membership in MAJestic, and forever barred from any MAJestic related information.  Why?

Well, aside from her sentience type (all MAJestic members are of one set sentience), the mere fact that she is a politician is reason for concern.  Politician’s do not keep secrets.  They are unable to.  The mainstream population might think and believe that everyone in the Whitehouse holds and keeps secrets, but that is not the truth; nor the reality.

As of early 2016, at least a dozen email accounts handled the “top secret” intelligence that was found on Hillary Clinton’s server and recently deemed too damaging for national security to release.  Officials said the accounts include not only Clinton’s but those of top aides – including Cheryl Mills, Huma Abedin, Jake Sullivan and Philippe Reines – as well as State Department Under Secretary for Management Patrick Kennedy and others.  Secondly sources (not authorized to speak on the record) said the number of accounts involved could be as high as 30 and reflects how the intelligence was broadly shared, replied to, and copied to individuals using the unsecured server.  As of 2017, we were collectively shocked to discover that the number of “mishandled” secret documents was much, much higher than that.  This sort of rampant mishandling of classified material cannot be minimized.  This is actually a rather common practice, and well understood by the MAJestic leadership.

She was “cleared” by the FBI Director Comey due to political concerns.  However, the aligned extraterrestrial leadership would not be so understandings were they to judge her actions.

Political personages CANNOT keep secrets unless they believe in a higher order or purpose.  This is impossible for “service to self” sentience. Most, if not ALL, service to self sentience DO NOT BELIEVE in a higher purpose.  This is true no matter how much they pretend to believe in a God, or in Nature, or in an improved social order.  They only believe in one thing; THEMSELVES.

It is precisely because of this kind of behavior that certain classes of human sentience are forever disbarred from information access with MAJestic.

MAJestic Agents

When you first join MAJestic you are typically young and in your 20’s. You make commitments, and receive training. You are then set loose to live your own life. That might be anything from being a CPA to working as an engineer in an appliance company.

You are just let loose to build up a life.

You get married. You have children. You go from job to job as the markets expand, contracts, and society carves it’s tentacles into your life. You get promoted, and your career expands. You get fired, and you suffer losses. You have divorces, and accidents. You have children, and train them to be good citizens. You have parents that get old and pass on. Life continues for everyone. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop if you are a member of a secret organization either.

Life happens to everyone.

While all this is going on, the agent is expected to work in his role. Whatever that role might be. Situations will arise to make it easier for the agent to their role. Even though agents are left to fend for themselves, there is a sort of support arm that makes it possible for the agent to survive and maintain their dual roles. Though the support arm could certainly be improved somewhat.

For instance, the engineer working on the “Flying Pig Program” might lose his job at “ACME Widgets”, and end up being a manager at a Burger King restaurant.  He might work long shifts. He might be involved in a corporate expansion program, and might be dealing with twin daughters. When he is not doing his “day” job, he is taking care of his family responsibilities at the same time that he is working as an agent. He will receive communications, process tasks, and report to his cell-mate. No one will know the difference.

He will be the master of hamburgers in the day, and the creator of flying pigs in secret.

The MAJestic W(U)-SAP

Let’s talk about MAJestic.

Overall, it is a very close-knit and secretive organization.

Members at my level of involvement were all members of three-man cells, in addition to all of us being implanted.  That was just how secretive the organization was / is.  No one knows the entire extent of this organization.  I don’t. Nobody knows.

September 24, 1947

MEMORANDUM FOR THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE

Dear Secretary Forrestal,

As per our recent conversation on this matter, you are hereby authorized to proceed with all due speed and caution upon your undertaking.  Hereafter this matter shall be referred to only as Operation MAJestic Twelve.

It continues to by my feeling that any future considerations relative to the ultimate disposition of this matter should rest solely with the Office of the President, following appropriate discussions with yourself, Dr. Bush and the Director of Central Intelligence.

-Harry Truman

Those whom wish more details can find other books on the subject elsewhere.  In all cases, public knowledge is greatly retarded.  No one person knows the full extent of the organization.  No one person knows the full extent of the program  No one does.  This includes the highest levels of the organization itself.

Anyone who says that they know all about the organization is lying.

It is important that imerging species be nurtured and protected.
What happens when a technologically advanced culture meets a technologically inferior culture? Absorption, modification, enslavement, or genocide? It happens all the time. Which is why it is important that emerging sentience’s be protected in a planetary nursery and policed by extraterrestrial guardians. Superior culture meets a primitive culture. (Image Source.)

Interesting photo this. It looks like it is from the “Golden Age of Travel”.  At that time, the world was still a big place, and many regions maintained their own culture, customs, dress, and history.  The more advanced cultures and nations provided outlets for exploration and adventure using the modern contrivances of that time.  During such adventures culture encounters were varied and meaningful.

The MJ-12 “MAJestic” Committee is tasked with the study and management of all extraterrestrial events and phenomenon.  This is an organization that does actually exist.  (To repeat; this is an actual organization that functions within the framework of the United States government.)  It is not a figment of some kind of “tin foil hat” conspiracy.  It is a real and actual organization.  It does exist.

While I know very little about its initial formation and earlier incarnations, I do know about the manifestation of what it had evolved into while I was involved in it.  This was from 1981 through to 2006.  (What it is today, and how it works today, is unknown by myself at this time.  I exited from the active participation in the organization in 2006, and exited from my “retirement” in 2011.)

Conspiracies do exist. In the 1920 and 30s, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Boston, Seattle and countless other major American cities had sprawling electric streetcar rail systems until General Motors, Standard Oil, Phillips Petroleum and Firestone bought up a controlling interest in National City Lines.

Once the monopolizing companies owned the railways, they shut them down, forcing Americans to buy cars or ride GM-manufactured buses, fuelled with Standard Oil and Phillips Petroleum, and fitted with Firestone tires.

This deliberate campaign to kill the electric-powered streetcars is known as the General Motors conspiracy. The full story didn’t become public knowledge until a Harvard Law began investigating the conspiracy in the seventies and took it all the way to the Senate.

During the hearings, which brought forward the proposal to restructure the automobile, truck, bus, and rail industries, General Motors was described as ‘a sovereign economic state’ and affirmed that the company played a major role in the displacement of rail and bus transportation by buses and trucks.

By the time the Justice Department caught wind of what was going on, National City Lines had already acquired and taken control of 46 transit network lines. In 1946, nine corporations were indicted in federal district court, accused of “conspiring to acquire control of a number of transit companies, forming a transportation monopoly” and “conspiring to monopolize sales of buses and supplies to companies owned by National City Lines”.

Five corporations, including GM and the usual suspects, were convicted of conspiring to monopolize the sale of buses and related products to local transit companies controlled by NCL; but were acquitted of conspiring to monopolize the ownership of these companies.

General Motors was fined $5,000.

GM treasurer H.C. Grossman was fined $1.

The General Motors conspiracy is also frequently dismissed however, claiming the corporations’ did nothing that wasn’t already happening to a bankrupt system which was already being dismantled across the country. An in-depth Vox article on the subject (one of the vocal mouthpieces of the oligarchy) points out that

From publicly disclosed information (that is contentious), apparently MJ-12 was first authorized in 1947 by President Truman.

This program was kept secret and entirely hidden from the public for many decades.  It wasn’t until a surreptitious public disclosure (Released by request upon the death of one of the original MJ-12 members.) was made that others became aware of it.  (Hotly and fiercely disparaged by NSA infiltrators and vocal statists.)

Disinformation Campaign

During my time in the program, no one knew about our organization or our involvement in it.  Thus, when it’s existence was disclosed, it sent shock waves through the UFO and conspiracy-minded community.  As a result, it forced an immediate debunking and disinformation campaign.

This continues to this day, with many (of the more popular and well known) conspiracy and UFO web sites and organizations touting the official government party line.

“…ongoing research indicates that many, possibly all, the so-called MJ-12 UFO documents were officially fabricated as instruments of U.S. covert psychological warfare . . .”

-International Space Sciences Organization (ISSO)

DO NOT BELIEVE THEM.

What can be Told

The reader should not be deceived by the disinformation campaign. This program is real and quite active.  Though what form and designation it currently has contemporaneously is unknown to me at this time.  Some important considerations must be taken into account;

About nomenclature;

  • MAJestic falls under the MAJI (the Majority Agency for Joint Intelligence) umbrella.
  • I prefer to refer to this organization as “MAJestic” simply because that was the terminology used at the time of my entry into the program. I do not know what it is actually called today.
  • Only the top members of the organization referred to it using the MAJestic nomenclature. Everyone else in the organization referred ONLY to their specific part within the organization.  Typically using slang or their alphanumerical designator when necessary. Personally, we referred to it as “the program”.
  • This program is often confusingly referred to as “MAJestic”, “MJ-12”, “MAJI”, “MAJIC” or as “MAJestic-12”. The various names used all refer to specific areas of procedural interest, but are often used incorrectly though inadvertent ignorance.
  • This program has hundreds of tiny sub-programs that all have dedicated membership.
  • The umbrella organization operates “programs” and “projects” that are unaware of the overall parental control.

The above should be quite understandable, no great secrets are being disclosed. I think that the reader can come up with this information on their own if they looked hard enough. It’s really all over the internet, no matter what efforts were put forth by disinformation experts. Now, to further elaborate on some of the secrecy aspects…

  • In most specialized sub-programs, all direct and active members operate in 3 man cells. No one person knows the full extent of the program.
  • Most members are not told anything other than what they immediately need to know to accomplish their tasks.
  • All members in this organization are part of the W(U)-SAP security classification.
  • It is not a political organization. Political members are typically considered to be security risks, with only the ones with the strongest religious or national values even considered to participate.
  • Officially, the United States government disavows all knowledge and involvement in this organization. But it does exist.  This is why a W(U)-SAP has the “U”. All involvement is denied.

None of this should be a surprise. Again, all of this can be found on the internet in one form or the other. All real genuine secret programs operate this way. To continue on some of the more uncommon or UNKNOWN aspects of MAJestic secrecy…

  • All members in the organization, from the very top to the lowest member are implanted with probes into their brains. The minimum requirement is a Core Kit #1 set of probes. I know of NO member who was not implanted. If you fall under the MAJ umbrella, you are implanted.
  • Individual members typically stay within one project for their entire stint within MAJestic. There are absolutely no cross-project transfers.
  • Members in possession of Core Kit #2 probes have to alter their “normal human” behaviors and lifestyle as it might interfere with their operations. This behavioral “lock out” is maintained through various methods and is only released upon retirement.
  • Members are in the organization for life. Retirement typically involves memory lock-out and a lifetime of monitoring (such as the sex offender program).
  • Any risks to the security of the organization results in termination of the individual without debate. There are no exceptions.

Now, why this organization exists in the first place. This information can be derived through the internet to some extent, though most of the available information is incorrect or in error.

Here is the real deal.

  • MAJestic was established to work with the various extraterrestrial species that humans would encounter for [1] geopolitical concerns and to [2] acquire advanced technology. The idea was to obtain technological advantage so that global world-wide leadership could be maintained.
  • MAJestic has since made an agreement to assist certain extraterrestrials in the monitoring of this planet. They did this in exchange of certain technologies and geopolitical advantages.
  • Extraterrestrials work with MAJestic to assist in the policing and maintenance of the “human sentience nursery”.
  • It is tasked with the coordination of ALL things extraterrestrial around the world. This includes all relationships, treaties, interaction, science exchanges, and reengineering efforts.
  • Some MAJestic projects involve the [1] biological aspects of extraterrestrials, while others were involved [2] in their technologies. Some are involved in [3] projects that assist in maintenance of the human nursery.

Now, perhaps some word can be said about the projects.  I know nothing about other projects, there are some things that one can (through extension) figure out.

About the projects…

  • The organization is quite large consisting of various “projects”. Each project has a bland alpha-numeric designator.
  • It is wholly a United States organization, though it does have relationships with other nations.
  • The senior level or executive management in MAJestic is the only level with any idea of the scope and extent of the organization.
  • Executive management does not know any of the details. They only know a simplistic overview. No one person knows everything about the organization. Not even the top head of the organization.
  • Details of the “projects” are limited to the various heads or project managers of the projects. This is an extraterrestrial requirement.

Now, to best help differentiate between the bullshit on the internet, and some real hard intel, let’s talk about membership. Let’s talk about personnel and selection…

  • Every person that I know of who was directly associated in the program had a technical background. To be in direct contact with extraterrestrials, one needed to possess a technical background. There are NO exceptions.
  • Every person that I was aware of, in the organization, had [1] a minimum of a four-year college education in the sciences, and [2] a military background of some sort.
  • Membership is carefully selected and culled. Most, if not ALL, members come from the military community, either directly or indirectly.  All must be approved by our extraterrestrial allies. (Actually, the extraterrestrials select the candidates first, and then MAJestic recruits them.)
  • Membership to the organization can only come from approval AND selection from our extraterrestrial allies. At no time will a person be selected for membership without extraterrestrial approval and vetting.
  • All MAJesticmembers, are “service to others” sentience.

About the membership…

  • The organization is entirely separated into isolated groups. No one person knows the full extent of everything. NOT ONE PERSON.
  • The MAJestic organization has a top level steering committee within the highest levels of the American government. But they only know the basics. Their understanding about things is laughingly simplistic.
  • The individual projects has one person who functions as the aggregator. They know everything regarding one very specialized project.
  • Agents within MAJestic are very specialized and are the only ones that interact with extraterrestrials personally and directly.
  • Most MAJestic activities, that do not involve extraterrestrial interaction, are farmed out and placed under U-SAP program “carve outs”. They might handle artifacts, and conduct studies. They might be involved with reverse engineering efforts, but they do not interact with the extraterrestrials directly. No matter what you read on the internet to the contrary.
  • Retirement is handled outside of the MAJestic sphere, and is monitored by non-MAJestic personnel.

Finally, about THIS disclosure…

  • Disclosure of MAJestic information, without prior approval by our extraterrestrial allies, will result in the death of the person disclosing the information. (Including everything posted by myself if it is not already preapproved.). That means myself. So NOTHING herein is NOT preapproved.
  • I only post, and carefully vet, what I am approved to release. I say this TWO TIMES.
  • In no way, was I in a leadership or management position in the program.
  • I held a very specialized role within the program.
  • In a way, you could actually say that this blog is my ULTIMATE task within the organization. The MAJestic membership, and our extraterrestrial friends both see a need to release SOME basic information to the public. Provided that the information released does not compromise any ongoing efforts.
  • This posted article was APPROVED for posting. I made sure of it.
  • Most of what is published on the Internet regarding MAJestic is fabricated nonsense.

Key Points

We, as agents of the program, have always referred to this program as the “ELF program” or the more simpler version “The Program”.  However, that is a misnomer.

  1. ELF refers to the mandatory implant procedure to control thoughts and memories of agents.
  2. “MAJestic” refers to the parent organization (old name and description) that oversees the specific program and the ELF implantation procedure. To this date, MAJestic has continued to exist in various forms and names depending on who was involved and what their role was.  I am not absolutely sure of what its current incarnation is.

This organization is one huge (multiple compartment) black-budget program that answers to the highest reaches of the American Political-Scientific-Industrial cabal.

Depending on who is President at the time, they may or may not be included in MAJestic membership.  Even if included, their access to the true scope of information and issues regarding MAJestic would be severely limited.

This is a huge organization.

All members of this organization, except those at the very top of the administration pyramid, are implanted.  They enter the program, usually via military channels, and are implanted and instructed that they are entering a “Special Access Program”, or SAP.

Depending on their particular involvement in the program they might fall into various subsets of access and authority.  Those involving direct contact with extraterrestrial technologies and individuals are generally classified as an “Unacknowledged Special Access Program” designator, or U-SAP.  Those involved in much more serious and controversial projects, such as ourselves, answer only to the highest levels of administration and are given the “Waived & Unacknowledged Special Access Program” designation, or W(U)-SAP.

Conclusion

There is an organization that is embedded deep within the United States. It was initially set up by President Truman, but is no longer under Presidential authority. While it operates internally to the United States, it operates independently of it.

The organization is known as MAJestic.

All agents work as an element of a W(U)-SAP. They enter through a very careful vetting procedure. They are all implanted for memory control, and retired after thirty years of service. Agents are typically retired as sex offenders. That way they are carefully monitored and their actions are controlled.

MAJestic agents assist the maintenance of this sentience nursery that we consider to be our planet.

Take Aways

If you read the news in America today, it is full of “leaks” and stories of “hacks”. It seems odd that real serious programs never seem to be breached. Maybe that is because either [1] they don’t exist, or [2] they do exist, but their secrecy is of upmost importance.

I suggest the second answer;

  • There are secrets, and then there are REAL SECRETS.
  • Real secrets are maintained most carefully.
  • Agents are selected carefully, implanted, and trained for their roles.
  • Agents are monitored at all times through probes.
  • Agents are retired after thirty years.
  • After retirement, the probes are turned off, and agents are monitored as sex offenders.

RFH

How about a Request For Help? I tire of busybodies and statists who poke fun at the ideas and theories of others. They offer no constructive dialog. Rather they just make fun, ridicule, and then scurry under a rock.

I use this forum as a way to disseminate some of the things that I learned though my thirty years of involvement in MAJestic. However, I am forbidden to posit my knowledge directly. I cannot tell the interested, the “secrets of the universe”. The best that I can do is share my opinions about things that interest me, and flavor it indirectly with my forbidden understandings.

To help put this in perspective, put yourself in my shoes…

Imagine that you are working at a company with a brutal NDR. Perhaps it is lead by Tony Soprano. You cannot divulge anything about what you are involved in for any reason.

Now, let’s suppose that for thirty years you were involved in training unicorns to dance with bigfoot inside of crystal castles in the sky. To help with your training, the Lock Ness Monster would gather “magical beans” that you would award the unicorns when they did a particularly impressive dance move; like the cha cha or a nice rendition of the samba.

Now, there is no way that you can talk about unicorns, bigfoot, or the Lock Ness Monster. But, the NDR doesn’t cover “magic beans”. So in the best interests of society, you might want to posit your thoughts about growing “magic beans” and how they might be of interest to imaginary creatures.

That is the situation that I find myself in.

I can talk about how the cha cha might be improved if horses danced it. I can talk about how to grow “magic beans” in chicken poop. I can talk about OTHER crystal castles in the sky. I can talk about many things about my life. But I cannot divulge anything that might compromise the project I was part of.

So, if you, the reader, were so interested, I would welcome your thoughts on how Hillary Clinton had thousands of SAP documenation on a home made server, and wasn’t killed on spot when it was discovered. I would welcome your thoughts on the structure of very secret organizations, and why the USA maintains organizations without “sunset” clauses. I am “all ears”.

This is my callout, to you the reader, to assist all of us in solving these mysteries. After all, this is a far better use of the internet than for looking at Justin Bieber videos.

FAQ

Q: Does MAJestic operate fleets of patrol vessels or a military force of some type.
A: No. Not that I am aware of. My role did not involve anything that looked like that in any way.

Q: What can you tell us about your role in MAJestic?
A: I am sorry, but

  • [1] I cannot divulge anything that would compromise my project, nor [2] any existing projects.
  • I can [3] explain some things that I have been exposed to that were not part of my project.
  • I can [4] put together already known public knowledge in a form that presents clarity.
  • I can [5] introduce the reader to an overview of the true reality, provided that it does not compromise MAJestic in any way.
  • I can [6] summarize certain things in a distilled narrative for (pre-approved) public consumption.

Everything posted is scrutinized by my handler and edited appropriately. Let it be understood that my program is no longer active. I am retired, and my handler is a non-human entity. I only post what has been approved. You the reader can think what you may. I don’t give a shit.

Q: Is MAJestic involved in reverse engineering efforts of extraterrestrial hardware.
A: Yes and No. They have a broad degree of control over the disposition of any item of extraterrestrial origin. However, agents themselves are not involved in any type of reengineering.

That task is “farmed out” to other groups that fall within a SAP.

For instance the C.A.R.E.T. program was one such program. The engineers working there were not members of MAJestic. However, the supervisory and management staff all had to have SAP clearance.

Q: What is the overall role of MAJestic?
A: The initial tasking was as an organization to monitor, control, and utilize any information, experience, or technology that could be obtained from other extraterrestrial intelligences.

Over the years, as we have become more familiar with our role in this galaxy and the role of humankind, MAJestic has been tasked with assisting in the monitoring and growth of the human sentience in the sentience nursery that we call the earth.

Q: What was your role?
A: You know, what is conventionally understood about extraterrestrials via Hollywood, and the esteemed brilliant minds in their ivory towers are not part of the reality at all. I am reminded of the pictures of robots at the turn of the 19th century, and how people pictured the future. It was wildly incorrect.

What people picture the future and reality to be is often wildly incorrect.
This is what people thought computerized cars would look like at the turn of the century.

Turn of the century robot, and what people thought automated cars would look like. In a similar way, this is the image that Hollywood paints of extraterrestrials. (Image source.)

I am also reminded about a movie titled “Defending your life”. The guy is in Heaven, and he’s trying to understand how everything works there. So he asks his assigned angel to tell him what he was doing. The angel tells him, and it makes absolutely no sense to him. The reason being, of course, is that his understanding of the physical reality is completely different than is understanding of the absolute reality. The two are not the same.

Yeah. I gave up being a trained rocket scientist and a naval aviator to join MAJestic. They couldn’t tell me what my role was going to be because even the MAJestic management couldn’t understand it’s utility. The reader should ask themselves WHY a person of my background would be chosen, and for WHAT particular role would I be assigned.

Nope, it was NOT about reverse engineering of technology, I can certainly confirm that. Nor was it about being a pilot of the “Space marines” or something like that.

Sorry that is all Hollywood nonsense.

What I can say is that physicists are publically divided into the reality of MWI. While they are arguing back and forth, back and forth, seemingly endlessly, others have just moved passed the debate stage. Indeed, there are others who have the funding and resources to work with extraterrestrials in these fields of debate.

But of course, MWI is unproven. Extraterrestrials don’t exist. Man has no place in the universe outside of this planet, and the government is always looking out for our best interests.

Don’t you know…

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

These are posts and articles that revolve around how I was recruited for MAJestic and my training. Also discussed is the nature of secret programs. I really do not know why the organization was kept so secret. It really wasn’t because of any kind of military concern, and the technologies were way too involved for any kind of information transfer. The only conclusion that I can come to is that we were obligated to maintain secrecy at the behalf of our extraterrestrial benefactors.

How to tell...

How to tell -2

Top Secrets

Sales Pitch

Feducial Training

Implantation

Probe Calibration - 1

Probe Calibration - 2

Leaving the USA

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

These particular posts are concerned about the universe that we are all part of. Being entangled as I was, and involved in the crazy things that I was, I was given some insight. This insight wasn’t anything super special. Rather it offered me perception along with advantage. Here, I try to impart some of that knowledge through discussion.

Enjoy.

Secrets of the universe
Alpha Centauri
Our Galaxy the Milky Way
Sirius solar system
Alpha Centauri
The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.
The Hammer inside the rock.
The Hollow Moon
The Mystery of the Lapulapu Ridge.
The Mystery of the Baltic UFO.
Mystery of the bronze bell.
Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.
Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?
The Oxia Palus Facility
Brown Dwarfs
Apollo Space Exploration
CARET
The Nature of the Universe
Type-1 Grey Extraterrestrial
The mysterious flying contraptions.

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

These posts are related to “reality slides”. Other more common terms are “world-line travel”, or the MWI. What people fail to grasp is that when a person has the ability to slide into a different reality (pass into a different world-line), they are able to “touch” Heaven to some extent. Here are posts that  cover this topic.

Cat Heaven
MWI
Things I miss
How MWI allows world-line travel.
An Observed World-Line switch.
Vehicular world-line travel
Soul is not consciousness.

John Titor Related Posts

Another person, collectively known by the identity of “John Titor” claimed to utilize world-line (MWI egress) travel to collect artifacts from the past. He is an interesting subject to discuss. Here we have multiple posts in this regard.

They are;

Articles & Links

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Mad Scientist Explorations

Now what do you suppose this Mad Scientist is up to? Image source.

As a young boy, I dreamed of being a “Mad Scientist”. At that time my imagination was fueled by Vincent Price movies, the gadgets of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”, and of course the reading of “The Mad Scientist Club”.  Later, as I grew older, I actually had opportunities to work in laboratories, work in top-secret facilities, and design and cobble together all kinds of curious and interesting gadgets. I think that it is a yearning of most boys to build, create and utilize inventions. Let’s take a look at this underappreciated need…

Vincent Price and His Movies

To people today, the name Vincent Price is meaningless. However, to children of the 60’s and the 70’s the name had meaning. For these were the movies that played during lazy Saturday afternoons, and during late night scare-fests. Vincent Price was more than just an actor, he was a legend. He, in some ways, defined a generation of children. He introduced us to monsters. He introduced us to the evils of man. He introduced us to ideas and concepts that were not taught to us in school. He introduced us to B-grade movies and the “Mad Scientists” the inhabited them.

“The Professor is working on something, and won’t tell anyone what it is. He’s got a secretary with the kind of attitude that makes it seem she was weaned on a pickle, and who looks a bit like a gene-spliced offspring of an elderly Betty Davis and Vivian Vance. To make this comparison more apt, her character is called “Ethel.” To make things even more spooky, the actress’ real name is “Viv!” “

-SATURDAY AFTERNOON B-MOVIE CRAPFEST: “The Phantom From 10,000 Leagues” (1955)

This actor was quite a significant player in my boyhood. His movies, aside from “The Abominable Dr. Phibes” and “Dr. Phibes Rises Again” were just typical horror / Science Fiction flicks. (Maybe it’s because I had crush(es) on his amazing assistants.) The movies were easy on the eyes, and fun for a ten-year-old boy to watch.

Vincent Price made many movies during the 1960's and 1970's, and his Dr. Phibes series were amoung his best.
One of my favorite Vincent Price movies was the Dr. Phibes series. Here he is with one of his pretty assistants.

It wasn’t only Vincent Price who participated in those movies. There were many other actors, yet they all shared a basic similarity. The laboratories were all seemingly set in basements, often with hidden or heavily bolted doors. Behind those doors were often evil experiments. One movie might have evil Hitler Nazi’s being woke up from cryogenic sleep, while another might have brain transplants. Some were involved in the reanimation of the dead, while others involved the creation of strange huge machines that would revolutionize or destroy the world.

Indeed, the role of Nazi’s in these movies was quite significant. For instance, you have King of the Zombies where zombies are used to conduct Nazi operations against the United States. There is The Frozen Dead where a scientist reanimates frozen heads of Nazi war criminals to revive Third Reich. There is They Saved Hitler’s Brain where Nazis in South America kidnap scientist to maintain living head of Adolf Hitler in order to revive the Third Reich. In Shock Waves we have an Island-shipwrecked party who encounters former SS commander leading zombie storm troopers. Yikes!

This theme continued with The Boys from Brazil where a Nazi hunter discovers doctor’s plot to revive Third Reich by cloning Hitler in Paraguayan jungle. Death Ship where a Nazi prison ship sails the seas since end of war luring unsuspecting victims aboard. Not willing to give up on this theme, we also have such movies as The Keep. Where the German Army and “Einsatzkommandos” occupy Romanian citadel with demonic forces.

Dr. Phibes movies were very popular Vincent Price movies during the 1970's.
There were two Dr. Phibes movies. Each one used a different assistant. I was in love with both. Yikes! Image credit to Metro Goldwyn Mayer for their promotional photo.

The underground lairs always involved some kind of nefarious laboratory. Inside there were always these big clunky switches that took your entire hand to pull down or push up to engage. In the dark corners of the lab were always these arc generators with bolts of electricity shooting through the air. (I believe it was there to keep the air nicely ionized for personal health and longevity.) There were always counters full of glass vials, beakers, and glassware filled with colorful liquids percolating away over lit Bunsen burners.

These movies were inspirational in that they led a boy, such as myself, to believe that a single lone individual with a dream can make it happen. Oh sure they were portrayed as villains. However, I am quite sure that the reason was because they just weren’t very well understood. You know, each and every one had a reason, which in their mind was just and good. All that you need to do is learn science. Study hard. Focus on your dream and apply yourself.

All you need is a dream, and to study and apply yourself to make that dream happen.

The Mad Scientist Club

The Mad Scientist Club is a series of stories (and books) written in the 1960’s which fueled the imagination and adventures of us children in the 1970’s. (The son of the author has a website. You can visit the website HERE.) These stories inspired me. They inspired my dreams and led me down the path towards technical excellence.

The book cover to the Mad Scientists Club.
The cover from the first book of “The Mad Scientists Club”. This is a classic book for all young children entering their early teens.

The boys in the stories used science to create all sorts of pandemonium and mayhem in their little town. They applied themselves to using science to make devices and gadgets. They played pranks. The books showed how a boy could engineer a device from techniques that they learned in school. They made balloons, talked on ham radios, devised electronics, and they did it all on their very own.

The beauty about all this was that they never asked for help or permission. They took the initiative and did it on their own. They applied themselves.

Indeed, these stories are special. But, don’t take it from me. Read what others have to say.

“This is the best kids book ever.

… In a way it saddens me when I re-read it. I don't think our kids today have as much freedom as these did (or my generation). I remember staying out until dark, riding my bike EVERYWHERE, clubhouses on vacant lots...Or maybe it's responsibility. Kids today have freedom but little responsibility. I'm getting off my soapbox now. but this is a cool book and it will make your kids fall in love with science. I imagine the Mythbusters grew up like this- or maybe their dads did!! ”

-Holly commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

I am afraid that Holly is correct. American children (and adults) don’t have as much freedom as we all used to. (It’s our fault, you know.) These books are for kids and inspires them to accomplish things through study and action. These books are not about getting a group together and finding a group consensus. It’s not about how to cautiously speak so as not to offend anyone. Nope. It is about getting things done and raising hell in the process.

It’s books like these that inspired many of us to study science and engineering. It certainly affected me. It also affected others. I am not the only one who studied about rockets and space…

“This was simply a great childhood book for any inquisitive kid who likes science, haunted houses, dinosaurs, flying machines, etc. I read this book in about seventh or eighth grade and actually a couple of times since. I believe this book helped me on my career to being a rocket scientist but it also gave me many ideas as I was growing up.

Brinley managed to capture the perfect mid-west US town and the guys in the book were great caricatures of fun loving, science minded boys with a bit of good natured mischief up their sleeves. Then Brinley took this setting and boys and produced a series of wonderful stories capturing so many things that so many boys growing up find so intriguing.

I bought a copy recently for a nephew and he was enraptured by it. The follow-ups while good never really reached the level of this first book but were fun in their own right. It will always hold a special memory of growing up back in the '60s.”

-Robert commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

He’s right you know. The stories certainly inspired me.

I like to think that there is inspiration in stories where you find adventure, freedom and independence. These are things that are absolutely missing in the modern realm of politically correct stories. Which, by the way, is a very important point. By following a “Politically Correct” narrative, you retard the growth of young boys. To paraphrase Clint Eastwood, you turn men into pussies.

“We live in more of a pussy generation now, where everybody's become used to saying, "Well, how do we handle it psychologically?" In those days, you just punched the bully back and duked it out. Even if the guy was older and could push you around, at least you were respected for fighting back, and you'd be left alone from then on.”

-Clint Eastwood

A parent has a responsibly to PREPARE their children to venture out and grow. They need to go forth and carve a life out of the wilderness. But that is not what is happening today. Instead we have children that never leave the nest. Young men, in the United States, live at home until they are in their 30’s. Instead of investing their time in building, workings, making, and creating, they are too busy looking at cat videos on the Internet while they post their latest latté on Facebook. Boys must be taught to aspire to be Men, not to be a woman’s version of a sensitive man.

Pussies.

No amount of tattoos, unique hair or beard, or cool urban clothing style is going to make you into a Man. It comes from within. Education alone won’t do it. Money and wealth won’t do it. Polite conversation won’t do it. It comes from inside. It comes from deep down inside. It comes from a place that says “you can, and must do what you need to do”. You don’t ask for permission, or consensus. You go out and carve your life out.  Alone.

By clutching on to your children like over protective mothers, the children don’t grow up. Physically they might age, but the brain and the emotions are still that of a young child. How else can you explain the SWJ mentality that demands a protective overseer? Which is what they want, you know. They demand to be coddled and taken care of by a big parental government Bernie Sanders style. Because, that is all that they know. They don’t know how to be independent. We don’t teach that anymore.

These books break us out of that mold…

“A gem. Almost unknown; but one of the most hilarious and memorable laugh-out-loud books you could ask for. It's never mentioned by anyone; it's never recommended, placed on book lists or chosen by reading-groups. This just might be because it's a series of books, which represents a 'philosophy-of-parenting’, which has fallen out of favor. That's my suspicion, anyway.

I mean, just think about it. These stories are about kids who are unmonitored; who are allowed to just go off on summer afternoons and hang out on their own; and do whatever they want.... because they are trusted by their folks. Today, this is the last thing parents want to hear. No one in today's control-freak, micro-managing America wants to imagine that children can be trusted like this.

Books for very young children ('Little Prince' or 'Giving Tree') are in abundance on Goodreads. They're sweet and harmless. There's also a new genre called 'YA' ('young adult'). But guess what? They're all very sanitary, careful, cautious, and timid. Antiseptic. Content-supervised and Content-controlled. They always instruct youngsters on the 'correct' thing to do, the 'sensitive' thing to do, the 'courteous' thing to do...blah blah blah.

'Mad Scientists' is different. Instead of caution, the author praises problem-solving, solidarity, daring, and initiative. It's a book written for kids illustrating how NOT to follow the rules. It’s a book, which shows that rules are made to be flouted.

These stories are from a time when today's endless complexities and anxieties just weren't around. It’s a book that deals with kids just... having fun. I say, there need to be a LOT MORE books like this.

The gang of boys in Brinley's tales are pre-teens; somewhere between 11 and 14. This is a strange interval in a boy's matriculation, when they need to figure out a lot of things about life (and it’s also a time when adults have the least relevant advice to offer). This is the space Brinley plays in: the theme of personal responsibility.

Teens NEED to create a few genuine catastrophes in order to learn the weight of 'cause' vs 'effect'. 'Intention' vs 'outcome'. 'Actions' vs 'harm'. They need to learn the ins-and-outs of friendship and loyalty and paying-one's-dues.

The 'Mad Scientists Club' (this is the name carved on their clubhouse door) demonstrate these themes grandly. These young scamps are precisely in that age where you learn how to make a mess and how you clean it up afterwards. By yourself!

The crazy scenarios which afflict these affable 'troublemakers' reminds us--should remind everyone-- that this process can be fun. Making mistakes and learning from them. The best way --nay, the ONLY way--to shape character.

Far cry from today, huh? Yeah. Today, we don't let kids have 'secret clubs', 'hideouts', codewords, or 'mysterious friends'. We don't let them play with equipment or tools. They must not 'wreck' anything of ours. They're certainly not allowed to 'gallivant all over creation' (love that phrase).

Modern parents are rule-mongers and control freaks. When our kids want to play, we take them to 'Sesame Place' and we monitor their nutrition and we deck them in flashing sneakers and put them in helmets and on leashes. We place them in soccer, swim class, softball, karate, dance, gymnastics.

The result? Modern kids have no idea what real 'freedom' means. We never give it to them. They turn out to be vegetables.

But Brinley's kids show the other way it can be done. This boy's club makes their own fun. They don't 'ask for permission' to do stuff--they just do it! They embrace wildness, zaniness, and unpredictability. The outcome? Well, they aren't brought up on charges from the Department of Homeland Security, for the trouble they cause. That's for sure. This is a part of small town-Americana we've let slip away.

Just one example: in one of the adventures undertaken by the Mad Scientists, they build their own hot-air balloon (using scraps from a local junkyard) and they enter it in the town's annual homemade hot-air balloon race. With no adult supervision at all. Once aloft, (!!) they engaged in an air-battle with their arch-foes and fire potato-cannons and slingshots back'n'forth in mid-air. Finally, they manage to send the enemy gang's balloon into the lake! Can you stand it? I can't friggin' stand it, can you?

This book reminds us that children used to be perfectly capable of taking care of themselves if we let them...if we weren't all scared out of our wits by molesters and semi-automatic weapons and drugs and porn and stalkers and computers, we'd still remember the kind of America found in this hilarious read. It's to our shame that we can't.”

-Feliks commentary on the book. Found at Goodreads.

Let me simply posit this; to all those men (not to intentionally exclude women, but I am a man addressing myself to other men) who have made something of their life. Maybe you are a barber, a motorcycle mechanic, a car salesman, or a cook, isn’t it true? To make it in this world, you need to stretch your neck out. You need to take risks, bend the rules a little. You need to apply yourself.

Book cover from the New Adventures of the Mad Scientist club.
The cover to the book “The New Adventures of the Mad Scientist Club”. This is the sequel to the first book. It is also good, though personally, I really prefer the first book overall.

Those times when life got tough, did you go and get permission? Did you go and ask for consensus? Did you politely ask for others opinions, or did you just go out and do whatever it took to achieve your goals? Was it easy? Nope, I’ll wager that it was hard, or at least uncomfortable. You might have to make sacrifices. Right? Right???

Part of the need to accomplish these tasks were goals. These goals were like this golden orb that lay there, just out of reach that you needed to obtain. You would work towards those goals. You would keep those goals in mind while you fought and persevered. A goal might be a car. A goal might be the love of your life.

A man is nothing without a goal.

A goal might be something more honorable and important, like saving the world. As everyone can’t be an evil villain like George Soros. Or, a wealthy trillionaire like Bill Gates. Someone needs to wear the mask of a hero…

Speaking of heroes…

The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

In the 1960’s, most Americans were worried about the “Red menace”; Communism. Yikes!

Here, in pockets around the globe, progressive socialists had gotten control of various governments and were implementing progressive social “utopias”. This included the Soviet Union, “Red” China, Northern Vietnam, Cambodia, North Korea, and other socialist paradises.

In these utopias, everyone lived in a progressive liberal society.

In these nations, in these societies, everyone was equal. There wasn’t any racism. Everyone knows what they can speak about and what they dare not say. Everyone wore approved clothing so not to offend anyone. Everyone conformed to society for the good of all. All they had to do was give all their possessions, body and soul to the all-powerful central government…

…and the citizens were quite miserable as a result.

Ah, but that didn’t stop them from expansion. They were out to take your (American) freedom away, don’t ya know. They sent out spies, and agents of destruction. As a result, we had to set up spy networks to counter their spy networks. We had to be ever vigilant against the evil of liberal progressive socialism. This meant a network of trained and motivated experts.

Enter “The Man from Uncle” where a special force of well-trained agents went to fight the roots of the evils that manipulated governments. Because, while we were all busy fighting the “Red Menace”, the true evils laid hidden, for they were the REAL levers of control behind the scenes.

Here, the secret agency (named U.N.C.L.E.) went to fight a very sinister agency that was set on destroying the global world order (named T.H.R.U.S.H.). In many ways it is sort of a cross between the Clinton’s financial network and the George Soros organizations.

The Man from Uncle television series.
The Man from Uncle was a television show that united the cold war foes into an organization that would fight the “Deep State”. For it was recognized then, as well as now, that the “Deep State” was the source of all the ills that befell Mankind.

Against this backdrop were groups of evil villains. For, after all, there are more powerful people than well-established individual nations.

These villains would form their own networks of confederates and together they would implement all kinds of mischievous and dangerous activities. Movies and shows about this emerging phenomenon were everywhere in the 60’s. We have secret agent James Bond fighting all kinds of evil doers like Doctor No.

Evil has no borders, and calls no nation home.

We had agent Flint  saving the world from militant feminists who were hell bent on depose the ruling American patriarchy with a feminist matriarchy.  Ah, Mr. Flint. There were others, of course. We had Alec LeamasJoe Turner and Harry Palmer.

We also had television shows like “Get Smart”, “I Spy”, “Mission Impossible” and “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” as they battled T.H.R.U.S.H..

As a boy I would watch The Man from U.N.C.L.E. with my father. He would sit there with his wine and cheese wedges, and I would eat my potato chips while we watched television together. For me the shows were all black and white, but that was because at the time our television was a black and white TV set.

My father liked the main character, Napoleon Solo while I preferred his Russian counterpart Illya Kuryakin which reminded me of the singing group “The Beatles” who were quite popular at the time. We would watch them operate in secret, while fighting the equally secret evil organization T.H.R.U.S.H.. Of course, they had all these secret codes, interesting devices, gadgets and inventions. As a boy, I was quite enraptured by them. I would imagine what it would be like if I too were a secret agent, using these contrivances and fighting evil to save the world.

What better thing for a young boy to aspire towards?

Prank Central

However, as exciting as it all looked, my attention was elsewhere. For I was young, and boys like being mischievous and playing tricks. It’s a boy thing I suppose. (I just don’t remember any girls doing these types of things. Though, I am quite sure that they were involved in more cerebral activities playing “head games” with other girls.) Boys like to see the physical results of their torment. They want to see girls react in horror to a toad. They want to light firecrackers outside people’s bedrooms, and set bags of dog poo on fire on people’s porches.

Advertisement for toys and gadgets inside a vintage comic book.
When I was growing up, we would find these types and kinds of advertisements inside of our comic books and magazines. They would be full of all kinds of fun things to amuse a young child.

I remember as a boy how we had somehow come across a gadget catalog that was advertised in the back of one of the comic books that we would often read. You know the kind. Pages and pages of things like magic tricks, pranks, books on Black Magic, fake (pellet shooting) fingers, trick buzzers, masks and ”pea shooters”. As a kid, we loved it and wanted everything. We must have circled over a hundred items in that catalog.

I think that it is an interest of growing children to expand and explore these tricks and devices of prankster humor. Too bad that the days of yodeling pickles are long gone. Indeed, you need to leave the ultra-sanitized United States to find some politically incorrect playthings for your child to enjoy.

…Or, do you?

Let me introduce the reader to the Archie McPhee store.

This is the kind of place that is a young boy’s wet dream. Inside the store (physical as well as the Internet version) are absolutely enormous assortments of useless pursuits. They’ve got boxing nuns and bacon scarves. They’ve got yodeling pickles and finger hands. Don’t know what a finger hand is, well then go HERE to find out. They have stuff that only a madman could think of.

“Less talk. More monkey.”

How about rotisserie chicken flavored candy canes, emergency inflatable toast (why?), rubber chickens (big and small), and propeller beanies. Ah we all wanted one of these as a kid. They have trick gum, Holy toast, and bags of busted businessmen. They carry x-ray glasses (yes, you wanted these didn’t you?) and hypno-glasses, wind-up lederhosen, and strange action figures to include horrified movie victims. They’ve got everything from plastic arks, to singing fish. It’s a childhood delight. This store brings out the little kid in all of us. It’s many things, but above all, it’s the go-to place for plastic poop.

I just can’t stop! It’s such an amazing place.

“If there’s a heaven for the deranged, Archie McPhee is probably it.”

-Josh B in Seattle

How about vinderhosen, an emergency Santa kit, crime scene sandwich bags,  and classic disguises. What about underwear for your pet squirrel, inflatable turkey (again, why?), and contemporaneous prayer cards. Here is probably the only place where you can find cool World War II occupation money. How about medical posters from India, they’ve got religious themes, cat themes, food themes, mad scientist themes, and themes that defy description. I am not at all kidding!

The Archie McPhee store in Seattle.
There is a store in Seattle. The rest of us are limited to visiting their (most comprehensive) website.

Do yourself a favor. Let your child buy something from this store. Give them ten dollars to spend, and wait while they go back and forth, back and forth deciding what to buy. It’s all in good fun.

Build your Own Gadgets

When the children are old enough, or for you adults that just never grew up (like me, heh heh) there are outlets for obtaining the tools and supplies to build your very own mad scientist lair. Over the years I have bought from these various outlets and cobbled up some pretty interesting gadgets. In the past I have made such things as television bicycles, remote control automobile deactivators, electronic snooping equipment detector, remote control devices for insects, and all kinds of household appliances.

Here are some of my favorites;

McMaster-Carr

If there was ever a catalog for inventors it is this. It has everything from hardware to materials (that can be bought in small quantities). To use these parts, you will need to have an idea of what you want to build. Then you go through the catalog to find parts or components that you can use. It is wonderfully, and functionally illustrated. Additionally, most of the parts have PDF drawings, and CAD drawings that you can export to your CAD system and made up on the computer. I, of course, highly recommend it.

“The best way to describe McMaster is to say that they carry everything you need to build anything. Items that you could normally only order through factory distributors, or materials that could only be ordered in large quantities, are easily available in any size and quantity, no matter how small. (No minimum order, either!) Their prices are excellent and they tend to only carry good merchandise. Amazingly, when I order stuff at 5:30 p.m., it arrives the next morning with their normal shipping. Their catalog has long been difficult to get because you had to be a reasonably sized business with a Dun and Bradstreet number and established credit to have them mail it to you. But now that they have added an online service, everyone can easily order from them with a credit card.”

Alexander Rose

As a point of curious interest, they used to have a large thick catalog in a bright yellow cover. I used to keep an old catalog, I think it was #93, in my bathroom and would spend my time looking through all the cool stuff while I was on the throne attending to my needs. As I stated previously, this is the go-to-first catalog for emerging Mad Scientists.

Mc Master Carr Catalog
If you have an idea, a concept, a gizmo that you want to build; well Mc Master is your first stop. It is where I go to get the parts I need to cobble together designs and make specialized parts.

Science Hobbyist

When I was a boy, I used to read the Scientific American magazine. In the 1960’s the magazine was appropriate for most people, including myself, interested in science. (Then during the 70’s and 80’s they just became another mouthpiece for the professional elite in the ivory towers in universities. The articles became too specialized and dry for casual reading.)

Anyways, back in the 1960’s the magazine had a section titled “The Amateur Scientist” which was a wonderfully illustrated section describing how a hobbyist can make their own gizmos and gadgets to explore scientific principles with. This website is sort of the modern day equivalent.

A page from the Scientific American section titled The Amateur Scientist.
Here is a sample page from the section in Scientific American titled “The Amateur Scientist”. Just by reading the articles I believed that I too could make my own scientific experiments and inventions.

This site “Science Hobbyist”, should be your first stop if you want to begin cobbling up devices, and making interesting stuff. For starters, I would suggest this section on projects to start a project or two that you might be interested in. You can go HERE to find out some projects for practical jokes. You can go HERE for some really strange projects (after all that’s what Mad Scientists do). This should be a starting point for Tesla coils and other interests such as lasers and infrared goggles.

Radio Shack

When I was growing up, Radio Shack was THE place to get parts and supplies for all sorts of cool stuff. In fact, when I was in High School around 1974 through 1977, it was almost the ONLY place where you could get computer parts and accessories. Indeed, around 1977 they cornered the PC market with nearly 100% market share.

Of course, poor management caused that market share to fall like a rock, and the CEO was sacked a few decades alter when the market share was under 1%. I wonder why that won’t happen to those in charge of the Federal Reserve. Oh, but I digress…

Anyways, Radio Shack has these cool little books and booklets called “The Engineers Notebook”, which is sort of a “cookbook” for playing with electronics. You can cobble all kinds of cool things together using the easy to read instructions and diagrams. Want to make a countdown times for a self-destruct button? Want to make a bug to listen on to what others are saying? Want to make a gadget to shock your friends? All here.  Go for it…

The Engineer's Notebook.
The Engineer’s Notebook is a great source of information for students, kids, mad scientists, and loony troublemakers. It is well worth the few dollars it costs.

The Art of Electronics

Speaking of electronics, if you are really interested on playing around with electronics, then don’t go for a boring text book. Go for a text book that was written by an enthusiast. Read “The Art of Electronics“, and get the LAB book as it is amazing!

"Far and away the finest book on the subject of electronics ... in the last decade. I cannot recommend this book highly enough to anyone whose research or experiments require some electronics." 
Optical Engineering

"A delightful book...The circuits actually work, the schematics are all readable." 
Review of Scientific Instruments

"This book is filled with a tremendous diversity of valuable information. More importantly, this book is a joy to read...It's not at all like studying--it's too much fun." 
EDN (News Edition)

"This book provides a painless way to learn about electronic design. It is also a good read for those already experienced in electronics." 
EDN (Magazine Edition)

"..it comes as close as any book we've seen to fulfilling the promise inherent in its title...written as though to educate the novice, but practicing engineers will encounter many useful tidbits they didn't know, hadn't thought about, or had long forgotten." 
Analog Dialogue

This book was written as a joy by someone who took a real pleasure in cobbling things together. It is super easy to read, and very interesting to boot. If you have the slightest interest in electronics, you will totally relish this tome.

The Art of Electronics.
The Art of Electronics. Here is a stack of the various editions by a fan. Trust me, if you love cobbling things together, then you WILL become a fan.

Websites to DIY Gizmos

In the internet today, it can become pretty daunting if you do not know the correct “buzz words” or Google-approved code words to use in your searches. If you are not careful, you will be sent to websites that are nothing more than product stores offering cool geeky products, but nothing that would interest a true Mad Scientist.

Well, never fear. Here are some FUN links;

Normally, I really do not like many of the websites on the internet. Basically, you have some millennial who constructed a website for profit. They googled similar terms and packaged it in some kind of “hipster” presentation of the day. It’s all packaged nonsense for a profit.

What is missing is HEART. That is to say; websites written by people who LOVE… LOOVVVVEEEEE the subjects that they are writing about. They can go on and on and on about them. Sort of like me and what I like to write about. For instance, HERE is a website that has some heart. That is different from these other websites…

The people who made up these websites don’t eat and drink and love gadgets and gizmos. It’s just a job to them. They are setting up a business model and their plan is to create an income stream off of it. Never the less, they DO have some benefit, if they can help point you in the right direction.

Go visit these two sites, and you will see what I mean…

Supply Catalogs

There are many places where you can get parts for your inventions. The best place is at companies that specialize in the purchase of excess inventories at factories. You can pick up radar dishes used on military ships, the inner workings of laptops, and all kinds of stuff for a mere fraction of what it costs to make. There are stories galore about these places. One man in Canada used military surplus to open up dimensional doors. Another used the equipment to build a personal submarine. While still another blew up his garage by pressing the wrong button. You got to be careful, don’t ya know.

Electronic Goldmine

This should be your first stop when looking for cheap parts, and orphaned mechanisms to use in your creations. You can find things from cameras used in cell phones to robotic parts here. The only problem is that most of the parts do not come with instructions or schematics. However, a little bit of experimentation and simple observation can help determine what goes where and how. I especial like the “grab bag” of who-know-what that you buy really cheap…

Surprise box of parts from the Electronics Goldmine.
Surprise box of parts from the Electronic Goldmine.

I once took a sensor board used for checking microwave leakage from appliances, it cost me a dollar, and turned it into a bugging sensor. You know, all electronics emit radiation. So, this little device was able to go over a wall or automobile and find out where electronics are. Heh heh. Another time, I took a speaker and turned it into a low frequency generator that I used to attract fleas with. (It was more sanitary than a bug bomb.)

Surplus Shed

Here is another website that offers surplus stuff. It has a different set of products and some are quite interesting indeed. You can make a pretty impressive telescope from the parts here. They mostly seem to carry things related to optics. This site is very good if you want to fry an ant’s nest.

American Science and Surplus

There are other places on the Internet from which you can order amazing things. May I also suggest another very interesting store, the American Science and Surplus store.  It’s most especially good for young boys and girls who have a mad scientist interest. Here are a mixture of chemistry sets, military surplus, industrial surplus, jokes and gizmos, and just plain strange stuff. You can make your own chewing gum. You can grow crystals.  You can make all kinds of liquids and potions that glow. You can start on rock collecting, or get started making mechanical gizmos. Explore and have fun.

This would be where you can get toys and gear for your growing children. There are all kinds of scientific goodness here.

Fair Radio

This website, Fair Radio, is a great source for used military electronics and equipment. It’s really not the place to purchase parts to cobble up designs. It is the go-to place to obtain things related to really big projects. I once knew someone who bought the laser rangefinder out of a tank from them. Their stuff can be quite eclectic. With all kinds of things ranging from mine detectors to weather balloons. Never the less, it is worth a look.

Aircraft communication and radio station.
There are all kinds of interesting things that you can buy, as long as you know where to go.

I once lived in an apartment in Milford, Massachusetts. It was an old Victorian mansion renovated into six apartments. I really liked the place, the location and the convenience. That was, unfortunately, until a section eight family moved in and had the entire neighborhood over for all night teenage parties to six in the morning. You know, it’s one thing wanting to help out low income people, but it’s another thing entirely when your rent is very large (because you work) and your neighbor gets a much larger apartment and pays nearly nothing for it (because they don’t).

Ah… Welcome to Massachusetts.

via GIPHY

For some reason, our new neighbors decided to host teenage parties in the apartment. (I remember knocking on her door at 4:30 am asking them to turn the music down. The woman looked at me in a daze and asked “Oh, you need to work tomorrow?” It was only Monday night, for Pete’s sake!)  Anyways, teenagers could come over starting at 9pm and play basketball inside the living room. (On the wooden floor, in the firggin’ living room.) They would crank up the music to level that made it impossible to think, talk on the phone and sleep. They would do drugs; typically smoke “crack” that would fill up the entire house with smoke. When the parties would get large, over thirty teenagers, the noise would be excessive, and police would come. They would break up the parties. Book the juveniles, and arrest the tenants. The peace and quiet would last one or two days, and then it would repeat. It was a nightmare.

It was really a problem, and the laws in Massachusetts could not do anything about it. My landlord couldn’t do anything either. Once they moved in they refused to pay rent, and the State protected them for six months until they could be forcefully evicted. (What a scam, huh? You get someone to take you in. No financial deposit. No first, lasts rent and security deposit. Just a paper from the welfare office. You don’t pay rent, and you can’t get evicted. It’s legislated squatting.) The youth and their instigators were protected. They were starting to break the windows in our vehicles parked outside, and were engaged in all sorts of hyperactive activities that were too rowdy for a quiet neighborhood. I could not sleep. When I would arrive at work, I would be sleep deprived, and terribly irritable. After about two months of sleepless night, I took matters in my own hands. I devised a contraption to put an end to their rock concerts.

I took a furnace igniter from Fair Radio, and placed two long wires in it. Then put the device on a five-minute timer starting at 10:30 at night. (After 10:30 it would turn on and off in five minute intervals.) The result being that I had a device that was an unshielded electric arc generator. I made a Jacob’s Ladder. (How to make one can be found HERE.) Being unshielded meant that all their loud electrics would get fried by noise. Thus when they blared their music, after five minutes a horrible howl full of static would assault their ears and blow out their speakers.

The first time it was used was amazing. It was wonderful. W-O-N-D-E-R-F-U-L. There must have been sixty teenagers (60) next door. There couldn’t have been anywhere to stand inside. Kids were crapping and urinating outside our bedroom windows, and sitting on all of our cars and vehicles. The music was thumping. It was mostly black urban rap at jet engine noise levels…. It was still early. At 10:30pm, I plugged in the Jacob’s Ladder. Turned on the timer and let it rip.

The screeching howl must have permanently damaged the eardrums of each and every teenager. This continued for about thirty seconds. Then it stopped. They turned off the stereo. They mulled about. Talked some. Brought another keg of beer over. Then, they turned on the music again. For five minutes it played on. Then, I hit the “on” button to the gizmo. The howling screeching was horrible.

This continued for about an hour. They would wait. Turn on the stereo. Five minutes later, I would turn on the device. They would shut everything down…. Heh heh. This continued for about two hours and then they broke up and went elsewhere.

Needless to say, they eventually had to find other places to hold their youthful teenage celebrations. Sometimes, when the system fails you, and you need to do something, a creative (and unexpected) solution is always preferred.

Mad Scientist with his assistant.
You don’t mess around with a Mad Scientist. Who knows what creative solutions he may come up with to counter your nefarious activities.

Herbach & Rademan

This is a great source of supply for motors and generators and all sorts of gears and stuff. I once worked with an electrical engineer in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. He used the electrical motors from here and put them in an old car without the engine. He added some batteries and made a fully electric car. It was pretty darn cool. H&R is a pretty good place for motor controllers, decent low-priced motors and the like.

If I wanted to make a two story tall robot (Japanese style), or a mechanical metal spider the size of a truck (Russian Style), I would get the parts from this store.

AllElectronics

AllElectronics is not a surplus store. Rather it is a regular store that sells electronic parts and individual assemblies. It is quite useful for throwing together some prototypes and making things work from scratch. For instance I used the voice module in a prototype for a room air purifier I was working on. When the filter became too dirty, a voice would come on saying “Please change the filter.”

You know, we first experimented with a man’s voice (one of the techs) but it sounded too ominous. It sounded like Boris the Great was coming to eat you. Then we asked the group secretary to do it, and it sounded hilarious.  This was because she had a strong Brooklyn accent.

You can find things like strobe modules, and power strip modules. All would contain instructions and hook up diagrams to help in the installation into your projects. There are also all kinds of project boxes and other kinds of hardware that are quite useful in your mad scientist creations.

Inspiration

As a boy, I was inspired by Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein. If you have teenagers, I would suggest you buy them one of both of these two Ray Bradbury books, and let them devour them. They are filled with awe, mystery and excitement. They are works of art that inspires and directs.

DREAMERS! BE ENCOURAGED. YOU ARE UNDERSTOOD.

Ray Bradbury’s R is for Rocket is a book about and for dreamers… and those who truly desire to understand them. A common character type in his work is the wide-eyed, yearning dreamer who reaches too high, often for a dream beyond his capacity, and who inevitably teeters on the brink of success and failure.

It’s no surprise that Bradbury produced so many pieces that gave voice to themes of blue skies since he himself was a dreamer, a voracious reader and enthusiastic writer from an early age, a man who thrilled himself (and his fortunate readers) on the wild imaginings of his literary soul.

In R is for Rocket, the story “The Rocket” is an excellent example of the author’s heartfelt kindness and sympathy for — and identification with — the hopes and heartaches of a dreamer, in this case one Fiorello Bodoni, a middle-aged, married-with-many-children man obsessed with dreams of rocket travel and space exploration in the face of those who are quick to discourage him.

Excerpts from the story:

“I will ride up in one someday,” said Bodoni.

“Fool!” cried Bramante. “You’ll never go. This is a rich man’s world.” … “No! We live in shacks like our ancestors before us.”

“Perhaps my sons—” said Bodoni.

“No, nor their sons!” the old man shouted. “It’s the rich who have dreams and rockets!” … “No, Bodoni, buy a new wrecking machine, which you need, and pull your dreams apart with it, and smash them to pieces.”

The old man subsided, gazing at the river in which, drowned, images of rockets burned down the sky.

“Good night,” said Bodoni.

“Sleep well,” said the other.

I have read and loved Ray Bradbury’s stories for over forty years because his prose is beautifully delivered and because, as a dreamer myself — who often reaches too high for his own good — I identify deeply with his wonderfully tragic heroes. There were many times that his captivating tales allowed me to escape from grim childhood days and nights, and for that I say to him, now in the Great Beyond for Great Writers: “Thank you!”

This review was written by Kevin Polman, author of THE EXTRA KEY and STORIES.

What you can do…

If you have children, I would strongly advise you let them play.

This does not mean sit them down in a structured environment and teach them how to do some kind of organized activity. I mean set them down with a broken radio, give them a pair of wire cutters and let them go to town. Let them go explore an old abandoned building. Take them to a state park and walk and explore there. Let them know about the Indians who used to live there. Walk them to a junk yard, and let them spend all day at it. Go to a local stream under a bridge, while you take a nap, let the kids play.

Spend time with them. Let them know that it is just fine to go about and throw things together. Give them the resources and then stand back. Give them some room. Let them figure it out on their own. Let them be children without supervision.

Take Aways

  • Boys like to build things.
  • Boys like to watch the reactions of others when they do something.
  • Funneling these interests into fun and innocent activities can be rewarding.
  • In the past, boys were free to build and experiment.
  • There are avenues to keep this interest alive if you know where to look.
  • A thinking person can use their scientific skills to provide answers to pesky problems.

RFH

How about a Request For Help? I tire of busybodies and statists who poke fun at the ideas and theories of others. They offer no constructive dialog. Rather they just make fun, ridicule, and then scurry under a rock.

I use this forum as a way to disseminate some of the things that I learned though my life.

So, if you, the reader, were so interested, I would welcome your stories about the shows and movies that you watched growing up and how they influenced you. I would welcome tales about how you did “experiments” with your chemistry kit, or made electrical devices to pull practical jokes with. I would love to hear about your various adventures.

This is my callout, to you the reader, to assist all of us in solving these mysteries. After all, this is a far better use of the internet than for looking at Justin Bieber videos.

FAQ

Q: Who was Vincent Price?
A: He was an iconic actor who made many famous horror movies in the 1960’s and 70’s. He greatly influenced culture at the time as his movies were typically B-grade horror flicks, and thus were provided free for children to watch at home.

Q: What is the Mad Scientist Club?
A: It is a series of stories written for children in their pre-teen years. It describes a normal life of a boy in the 1960’s. Today the behavior of the boys would be considered criminal, and the DHS might come and arrest the parents.

Q: What is the Man from Uncle?
A: This was a spy vs. spy television show that was popular during the 1960’s. It was full of spys and technology and top secrets of the day.

Q: Is it fun to be a mad scientist?
A: It is worth a try. Everyone has a little bit of crazy inside of them. Tools, and a little bit of creativity can create wondrous things, and great pranks.

Q: What does this have to do with MAJestic?
A: This has nothing to do with MAJestic. I am permitted to chat about anything that I am interested in. I like science, gadgets and playing around. So here you are. Perhaps reading this might enable you to get a little into my head. So that you can see that I am just a normal guy (or asshole, if you prefer).

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

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Tomatos
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Mad scientist
Gorilla Cage in the basement
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Pleasures
Work in the 1960's
School in the 1970s
Cat Heaven
Corporate life
Corporate life - part 2
Build up your life
Grow and play - 1
Grow and play - 2
Asshole
Baby's got back
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The Warning Signs
SJW
Army and Navy Store
Playground Comparisons
Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

More Posts about Life

I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.

Being older
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Civil War
Travel
PT-141
Bronco Billy
r/K selection theory
How they get away with it
Line in the sand
A second passport
Paper Airplanes
Snopes
Taxiation without representation.
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1960's and 1970's link
Democracy Lessons

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

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Articles & Links

You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.

  • You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
  • You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
  • You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
  • You can find out more about the author HERE.
  • If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
  • If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Notes

  1. First draft on 8MAR18.
  2. Revised by request 24MAR18.
  3. Revised by request 27MAR18.
  4. Revised by request 4APR18.
  5. Revised by request 20APR18.
  6. Ready for internet posting 23APR18.
  7. Added section for inspiration. 9JUL18.
  8. Added GIF 11JUL18.